The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1866-03-06
THE ANDERsONyILLE DEAD

Miss Clara Barton, forming an additional
and eminently praiseworthy example of the
loyal earnest and devoted spirit which charae.
terized the women of the loyal states during
the war, has collected and published q list OF
the Union dead buried at Andersonvile. In
this closely printed pamphlet of more than
seventy pages are the numbers of 1920
Union graves with the names ofthe tenants of
all ofthem save four hundred
Prolific as this subject is in reflection both
sad and bitter, we shall not here indulge in
any, Only this one extract we make from
Miss Barton's report accompanying the list.
She is speaking of the Andei sonyille Stock
ade
The treacherous nature OF the soil, parch-
ing to seams in the sun, and Outlying and
sliding under their feet with every shower
must have augmented their ills almost beyond
conception. | watched the effect of heavy
fall OF rain upon the enclosed grounds and in
thirty minutes the entire hill sides, which had
constituted their sole abiding place, were one
rolling mass Of slippery mud. and this the ef
feet OF a mere summer shower. What of the
continued rains of autulAn? Think of thirty
thousand men penned BY close stockade up
on twenty.six acres of ground, from which
every tree and shrub had been uprooted for
fl ell to cook their scanty food, buddled like
cuttle. without shelter or blanket, half clad
and hungry, with the dreary night setting IN
after dav of autumn rain. The hill-tops
would not hold them all, the valley was filled
with the swollen brook: seventeen feet
from the stockade ran the fatal dead line,
beyond which no man might step and live.
What did they do2 | need not ask where did
they 90, for on the face of the whole green
earth there was no place but this for them
but where did they place themselves? how
did they live? Aye how did they die ?
But this is only one feature of ftheif suffering
and perhaps the .ightest. OF the long daz-
cling months when gaunt famine stalked at
noon day, and pestilenee walked by night :
and upon tIe scanned and parehing earth the
cooling rain fell not, | will not trust me TO
speak. | scarce dare think. II my heart
were strong enough to draw the picture. there
are thousands upon thousands all through our
land too crushed and sore to look upon it.
But after this, wherever any man who has lain
aprisoner within the stockade of Andersonvllle
would tell YOU of his sufferings. how he faint
ed scorched, drenehed, hungered, sickened
was scof'ed. scourged, hunted and prosecuted
though the tale be long and twice told, as
you would have your own wrongs appreciated
your own woes pitied, your own cries foi
mercy heard, charge YOU, listen and believe
him. However definitely he may have
spoken know that he hes not told you all
However strongly he may have outlined, OF
deeply he may have colored his picture. know
that the reality calls for better light, and {
nearer view than your clouded, distant gaze
will ever get. And your sympatbies neec
not be confined to Aaders onville, while sim
liar horrors glared in the sunny light, anc
spotted the flower girt garden fields of tha
whole desperate, misguided, and bewildereo
people. Wherever stretched the form OF ;
Union prisoner, there rose the signal tol
cruelty and the cry of agony, and there, da.
by day, grew the skeleton graves ofthe name
less dead.
As we look on the sad picture and th'
graves of those who were thus murdered TO
learn hate. albeit to think of that prison hel
and its scenes and tortures, almost frenzies
and those voiceless graves become like th'
wounds ofCaser ''poor, poor, dumb mouths
speaking for the living and the dead, and in
citing IKE the ghost of Denmark s King re
vange Tor TINS toul and unnatural murder.
But hate IS not for us now. Only kindl,
cherishing forever the memories of these a
part Of the price of the Union. The blood o
the martyrs is the seed of the Church. LIE
us take care that from the graves of our deat
at Andersonville and elsewhere, there springs
more luxuriant growth ofliberty which i, shall
be our care to cultivate and foster. We vii
not draw thence hatred and revenge, but
should make us strong TO defend the cause 70
which these men were sacrificed, and to max
no compromises with the spirit oftreason an
slavery which slew them.
IHE popular song Of Crock Me to Sleep
Mother, was first published FIVE or six year
ago, under the signature of Florence Percy,
the nom de plume Of Mrs. Elizabeth Akers
widow of Paul Akers, the sculptor. Th
words have been set to music by eight dif
ooppoeors in this oor~t-~ /.