Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1867-11-28


felt them can describe the Sizing MIME
ball, which does it's work DO nsatly and
so well? Who can describe that last look
OF the soldier as he appeals for help that
man cannot give, or who the dread scenes
at the surgeons table, or at the burial
trench? What artist will attempt that
night scene when the gunboats and
transports ran the batteries of Vicksburg?
that long black line ofiron-clads, follow
ed by the frail transports, in darkness
and silence-bardly a ripple or breath
heard when, as by the lightning's fash,
the whole sky was lit up by the bonfires
and burning buildings on shore, illumi-
mating city and feet, and make every
floating object target for those terrible
batteries. Who will attempt to paint
that grand panorama Of battle at Chat
tanooga, with its ten miles ofcontinuous
fire, plainly visible from our hill just be-
fore the setting of the sun? Or who but
the poet would venture to express that
intense feeling of joy which pervaded all
minds when, at cur camp at Lovejoy, we
heard in the distance the faintreverbera-
tions Of the exploding magazines at At
lanta that told us the Rebels were
evacuating the city, and that at last we
had reached the goal assigned to us in
that grand drama of war which extend
ed over the whole country.
l have always wished that some artist
like Bierstadt or Kaufman, could have
stood by my side on Kenesaw that beau
tiful October morning, and fixed on can
vas that beautiful picture of the vast for
est at our feet, with its bright Autumnal
foliage, and the long lines of soldiers
pointing toward Dallas, while in the far
distance was Altoona, begirt with the
white cnOha of tho Rabal aesault and
the occasional glimpse of the little signal
flag through an embrasure which told
me, through the signal officer by my
side, that COrse was there, and, conse-
quently, that the place was safe. Or,
better still, that Beard or Healy could
have caught that gorgeous picture as we
rode cut of Atlanta that beautiful morn
ing in November, and turned to look at
Atlanta smoldering in its ruins, while
long lines of soldiers with their white
topped wagons were starting southwark
they knew not whittier, and the whole
air resounded with that favorite anthem
of "John Browns soul goes marching
on" taken up from the band by the
marching columns as by common in
stinct. Or who will attempt the scene
when Hazen's old Division, after long
weeks and months of perilous marching
down to the sea, walked with colors fly
ing and dressed by brigades on the CEN
ter, right into Fort McAllister, and the
loud shouts of his men reached us across
those rice fields, and even carried TACK
to our main camp, telling them that our
fleet was gained and Savannah's fate
was sealed? Or who but one who was
present can feel the magic effects of that
shrill steam whistle when the little tug
Davidson came up Cape Fear Rivertous
at Fayetteville, and the wild yells of our
men told us what every man realized that
it was a message from home? Who does
not remember the heartfelt joy when al
| Smithfield we heard the glad tidings that
Richmond had fallen? that Lee was in
full retreat, followed so soon by the news
of his surrender?
But liz our wearied experiences, we had
at times, to drink of the bitter cup oi
death and loss. Do you suppose any one
can describe to me the bitter anguish OF
that moment when Mcpherson, who had
just left me In joyous health was brought
back and lay dead at my feet? or that
terrific yell when the Army of the Tenn
essee learned that their noble cofnman.
der, whom they loved SO well, would
never again be seen in life, and that to
them was consigned the dread task OF
revenge? And last of all, when at Raj
us all for days like pail, that Mr.. Lin
coin, our beloved President, had been as
sassinated by the coward villain Booth?
Even now l tremble when l think what
might have befallen the people of Raleigh
had not our men been long schooled in
the lessons of bloody war. Oh! how
we had all looked forward to that day
when he should come forth to meet us,
with his tall form and beaming eye, to
welcome us back again to our homes,
after our long and devious wanderings
but it was not reserved for him, and an
other did it in his stead, while the whole
nation stood by, to proclaim with shouts
of joy: Well done, good and faithful sol
diers! And now 1, your old commander,
after n lapse of more than two years, re-
echo the same sentiment, and tell you
You have your reward, not in money or
precious jewels, not in land and houses,
but in the consciousness of noble duty
well done, and in the possession of these
priceless memories that will become more
and more precious as time rolls on.
The day will come when not a man in
this land of ours but would share with
you his wealth, could he say, like you,
that he, too, was of the Army of the Ten
nessee, and could tell his children that
he had heard the first hostile shot at
Fort Henry, and the last boom of cannon
at Raleigh. .-..
I could thus go on, my friends, for
hours, and recall from the past endless
visions of deep interest to us all; but
we live in busy world that will not
pause or stop for us. The seasons follow
each other in quick succession, the sun
pursues its endless course, and We who
still survive must plod on to our appoint.
ed time, and mingle with the present and
grapple with the future. Therefore, al
considerable personal risk, 1 feel COM
PEELED to deal with them.
/ have often been asked by my fellow
soldiers, when troubled by the reports OF
the disturbed condition of things at the
South, whether, after all, our labors had
not been in vain? Whether we might
not again be called upon TO repeat the
scenes of 1868 and 1854? Or whether the
Rebels, defeated in battle, might not, in
the hurly-burly of time and politics, re-
gain their "lost cause" and their lost
pride? On these points 1 feel no great
solicitude, but whether can convey To
your minds the same conviction, will
not say. History rarely goes backward,
and events In the past are usually as real
as the granite rock on which we stand.
Surely no men ever had more glori-
Gus cause than we. And never, in my
Judgment. did war so completely fulfill
its natural office. When we laid down
n u Il a. l~s