The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1864-06-30
correspondence Of the Telegraph.

write you letter not because | want
to give publicity to my name, not from any
selfish desire but because my soul is full,
and must give some expression, feeble
though it be, as all expression is, to the
whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, that
God through His wonderful works has call.
ed into being, trusting that there are hearts,
whose chords are tuned in unison with my
own, hearts that will vibrate in answer to
each thought and feeling not deelning them
silly exaggerations, Or crazy fancies, and to
such as these, through you, hunbiy offer
my little sketch,
BEFORE ten days ago had never seen a
mountain. [ was very careful not to men
ton this to those who did not know it, for |
felt it to be almost crime to live in so
great a world, having seen so little Of it,
and sometimes felt it to be hard fate,
that kept me SO long stationary inhabitant
of the Badger State. Though often in inn
agination, away from the solitude and suffer.
ing Of the sick-room, l travelled the wide
world all over, | never felt very desirable
amount Of satisfaction at the end of my
journey.
Who, then, has felt himself made purer,
nobler and better, drawn nearer the Creator
by study of His Creation, will wonder
that my eyes were almost blinded and my
soIl filled with indescribable emotions, when
| gazed for the first time upon that wonder
full new page in my life-book, written by
Gods own hand-the mountains, the rivers,
the valleys? Never before had I felt so sen
sibly, so fully, the immediate presence Of
the Divine Peing, Creator of the heavens
and the earth, as when l saw standing 81
lently before me those mountains seeming
to me like 50 many mighty fingers guiding
a sinful and suffering world to the life be
yond; to God, toheaven, to rest; and far be-
low the silver waters lying calmly and
peacefully in their bed of green, emblem OF
purity and humility. thought of that first
glad song in heaven. how when the angels
touched their harps of gold, and sang praises
to the Holy One, the mountains bowed THEN
heads, the wind withheld its motion, streams
stood still and did not murmur." A strain
Of music is blended with my picture, and it
is perfect. How could God when looking up
on this glorious creation, do aught else than
,,ropounca - oil E.GooJ9,,
A great landscape painting is before my
eyes. The beginning is in Kenosha, the enc
in Baltimore. 1t has forests and rivers; is
lands and lakes mountains and valleys
large cities and little villages; a lovely sun
set, and glorious sunrise, all blended il
perfect harmony, and cannot spoil my pic
ture by breaking it up and giving you a lit
tie piece at time. cannot describe it as
Wholesome might as well try to describe
perfect strain of music, so | give impression
rather than descriptions.
It is beautiful, I have said it was perfect
but it has one sad feature there is one sha
dow upon it that all the light and glory ant
beauty cannot erase. That shadow is a rude
pine coffin--a soldiers coffin. | passed il
rapidly only saw it thrown carelessly
down, as though it had not held the precious
clay of some fond mothers boy, as thougl
it had not held the sacred dust of one whose
life had gone out to help pay the price Of hi:
country's ransom, one who even died tc
shield those who We're now using his poor
cold clay so rudely Did they think of this
1t was all the same to the dead body in tbs
coffin, That knew no rudeness that felt nc
unkindness, but there were living, loving
aching hearts, to whom this lifeless clay was
dearer than anything else of earth. Them
hard cruel men, if you have not soul enough
to hold.sacred the memory of the noble dead,
have pity for the living, and when a soldiers
rude coffin comes again in your way, take
itup gently, reverently. Send it home ten
Derby Let not those whom Gods hand has
thus far spared the anguish that has fallen
so heavily upon thousands of hearts, grow
cold and Indifferent to suffering, and let not
those who have keenly and bitterly felt the
smitingrod, grow too selfish in their grief -