The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1863-12-18

(Fron B. =. Taylor's Chattanooga
the CIhic ago JournAil


(Prom B. T. TayIor's Correspondenes With
the CIhicAgo JournAi1
1t is white, dusty ridge in Alabama
tall, slim oaks sprinkle it. and beneath them.
in streets with strange, far eastern look.
stand the tents of one oil those blessed Cit
les OF Mercy-a Field Hospital. The sun
pours hotly down; distant drum snsrls now
apd then AS if in dream; the linking con
cert of a cloud Of locusts-the cicada OF the
South-comes. like the dear oil sleigh bells
chime Iom a distant tree 1.-The loud laugh
that tells the vacant mind" is unhesrd; the
familiar sound OF closing doors and chill
dren's carol never rises there; the tents
swell white. and sad. and still. Within them
lies almost three thousand soldiers. marred
with all wounds conceivable, wasted with
pain. parched with fever. wearily turning.
wesrily waiting to take up the blessed
march. Ho, for the morrill, Thst is ihe
word. the ever abiding chsrmer that '.lingers
still behind" 1t is Stephenson; it is Nash
vile; il is Louisville; it is home: it is hesv-
en-. Alas for it, how they falter and sleep
by the way. And every one of these men
was somebody's boy once; had a mother
once, a wife. a sister, sweetheart; but bet
ter is a friend that is near than a brother afar
of, and now comes the blessed mission OF
woman True, there are only two here in
person. hut how many in heart and work!
You have been thinking, my sisters,
where Is work, ia all these scenes?
That snowy roll OF linen; that little pillow
beneath the sufferers head; that soft fold
across the gashed breast; that cooling drink.
the rude, kind stalwart nurse is putting to
yonder boys white lips; that delicacy this
poor fellow Is just partsking; that dressing
gown whose broidered hem those long thin
fingers are toying with; the slippers. world
too wide for the thin. faltering feet; the dish
of fruit left hand is slowly working at, his
right laid upon our Federal altar at Chica-
mauga, never to be lifted more loar tree.
my sister, bore that fruit your fingers
wrought, your heart tconceived.-"What do
the women say about US boys at homer
slowly asked poor wreck Of a lad. as | sat
by his side. That brow of his sched l
know, for the touch of loving hand, .'and
the sound of a voice that is still. At the
moment he asked the question, he was turn
ing over little silken needle book one of
You laughing girls made soma day, and
tucked in a corner Of bag lsbeled ~. S.
Sanitary Commission On the cover of
that book you had wrought the words. play
fully. perhaps. "my bold soldier boy" l
silently pointed to the legend; the reply
struck home to the heart, and he burst into
tears. | assure you they were not bitter
tears he shed. and as he wiped them away
with white film of a handkerchief you
girls had hemmed for him, his question was
twice answered and he was content His
eye lids closed down. his breathing grew
regular; he had fallen asleep, and thought
it was picture of the Soldiers Dream"
over again.
You hear of the malappropriation Of your
gifts, but never fear, one grain may fail.
but two will spring up and blossom out in
to "torget- me nots." Your work is every
where Go with me TO that tent standing
apart; i, is the dead house tent. Four boys
in their brown blankets, four white wood
coffins. four lsbles with four names four
still breasts. Two Of the four garments the
sleepers wear are of linen from your stores,
stitched by your fingers. Verify the La
dies Soldiers Aid Societies should be nam
ed Mary" for are they not, like her of
old, ''lasI at the cross and earliest at the
gravel