Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1863-11-13


side your sunshine there, with which began
this letter. II Is white, dusty ridge in Ala
bama; tall, slim oaks sprinkle II, and beneath
them in streets with a strange, far-eastern look
stand the tents of one Of those blessed Cities OF
Mercy--a Field hospital. The sun p0urs hOtiy
down; distant drum snarls now end then rs u
in dreamj the tinkling concert Of n cloud Of To-
custs--the cicada Of the South--comes like the
dear old sleigh-bells' chime, from distant tree.
"The loud laugh that tells the vacant mind is
unhcard; the familiar sound Of closing doors and
chldrens carol never rises there; the tents swell
white and sad and still. Within them lie all
most three thousand soldiers, marred with oil
wounds conceivable wasted with pain, parched
with fever, wearly turning, weari1y waiting, TO
take up the blessed march--H0 for the Northl
That is the word, the ever-abiding charmer that
"lingers still behind" II is Stevenson; IL is
Nashville; il is Louisville; IL is home; it is beav-
enl Alas, for it, how they falter and slecpby
tho way. And every one Of these men was some
body's boy once; had n mother once, a wife,
sister, sweetheart, but "better is a friend that
is near than brother afar off" and now comes
the blessed mission Of women. True, there are
only two here in person, but how many in heart
and work.
You have been thinking, my sisters, where is
our work, in all these scenes3 That snowy roll
oflinen; that little pillow beneath the sufferers
head that soft fold across the gashed breasti-
that cooling drink the rude, kind, stalwart nurse
is putting 10 yonder boys white lips; that deli
cacy this poor fellow is just partaking; that
dressing gown whose broidered hem those long,
thin fingers are toying with; the slippers, a
world too wide for the thin, faltering feet; the
dish of fruit the left hand is slowly working at
his right hand laid upon our Federal altar at
Ohickamauga, never TO be lifted more. Your
tree, my sister, bore that fruit; your fingers
wrought, your heart conceived. What do the
women say about US boys at home2" slowly
asked poor wreck ofa lad, as ! sat by his side
That brow of his ached, know, for the touch Of
loving hand, sand the sound of voice that is
still" AT the moment he asked the question
he was turning over little silken needle book
that one of you laughing girls made some day,
and tucked in corner of bag labeled "U. 5.
Sanitary Commission" On the cover of that
book you bad wrought the words playfully per-
haps, any bold soldier boy" l silently point
ed TO the legend; the reply struck home to his
heart and he burst into tears. / assure you they
were not bitter tears, 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 l thought it was the pic
ture 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 into forget t-me -nOts."
Your work is everywhere Go with me to that
tent standing apart; it is the Dead-house tent.
-Four boys in their brown blankets, four white
wood collins four labels with four names on four
still breasts. Two of the four garments the
sleepers wear are of linen from your stores,
stitched by your fingers Verify, the Ladies'
Soldiers Aid Societies should be named "Mary,"
for are they not like her of old "last at the cross
and earliest at the gravel
"When can l go home Doctor2" is the ques-
Z.
the eyes, as he goes his daily rounds. There
was train of cars at last-bOx cars-cdtge cars,
if you like it better-drawn up opposite the hos
pital, and l stood there on a bright morning at
nine o'clock, as the four hundred poor boys,
lame, bandaged, supported, carried outright,
came over the hill to take the train. 1t was the
Wounded Brigade, and three of every five wore
some token of woman's remembrance-of your
loving Kindness. 1t was announced to them
| the night before that they were to go at five,
and there was no sleep for Joy. Some of them
had actually watched the night out in the open
air. like the Chaldean shepards lest by some
chance the train should go away without them
But they were hopeful and heartful for they
would go by-and-by. That Wounded Brigade
made my eyes dim as they came; no ''pomp and
circumstance" now; no martial step, no rustling
banners, no cleaning arms. / should have been
less than human had not swallowed my heart
all day as i thought of that Brigade, the grand
the cars were .foored with the sick and wound
ed, and we moved slowly away, and must tell
you that all the way along that weary ride of
twenty hours to Nashville, it was the thought
full gift of woman that kept their hearts up
Not on the field of Chickamauga, not in the
woods of Alabama, not on the train in Tennessee
could l get out of sight of the Aid Society, the
Sanitary Commission, the Florence Nghting-
gales of The Northwest. want to describe that
| ride to-day, but cannot; how they waited hours
! till Major Generals swift, commodious car
should pass; how they crept along the rear of
everything alive. 1t is worth chapter and it
shall have it. And so my sisters, have given
you hands breadth of the shadow which that
sunshine of yours has pierced and glorifed like
the comming of morning. When the scenes
amid which we wall and labor pass into the
grand eternity of the historic page, the heart Of
the world viii warm to the Women of the North
west; soldierly daring and womanly deeds will
be blended forever; the kiss of the daughters
will not stain the sword of the sons; the violet
lilly and laurel will bloom immortal together
and the lost Eden of old will smile once more OF
the map of the globe. B. F. 7.