The Dallas weekly herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1885, 1874-10-24


Shoe your horse? Well yes, sir, I reckon
Here, Johnny, come brush OF the files like a
/ Fine scenery Yes, but II you. were to try
To plough up that hillside, you'd understand
why
And smooth about Charleston - perhaps
| you've been there.
am old for my trade! am Just sixty-four,
But some years are long as n lifetime, nay
Ten times have passed slnce-but never
mind that,
Here, Joe, bring chair-take the gentle
And, Susie, my blossom, run quickly and
A nice cup of water from grandpa's cold
spring.
Yes, grandchildren; orphans. sir; three little
They are all we have left now, for all our four
Are dead; James and Harry, and brave little
Gray,
Who, worn out with marching, dropped dead
With lis drum on his back; a mere boy, sir.
ofhis mother, who never has smiled since
he died.
They were starving, poor fellows halfnaked
But they charged in their rags, and were
mown down like grass,
Left lying and dead in the frozen morass.
Have You ever been hungry, sir, day after
You don't know how 1t takes mans spirits
away.
But they charged in their rags! They rushed
On the enemy's ranks as they slowly drew
near
The blas;ceated ,; 90, yankees, well clothed and
Who, wondering, looked at our poor fam
When, the struggle SO hopeless, so weak
Gaunt, shoeless, and ragged, they lay on the
shore.
Into the Wilderness, Harry and James.
They never came out. We saw their two
Reported as "missing;" and Harry's young
wife
Just pined away-pined away-out of this
Then we rode to join Lee, old horse Dobbin
AS the four boys had died, so the father could
die!
The thin ranks were swelled by old men with
And Boys under age-those last days OF des-
pair
Had drained from the South every man, and
And the heldf were unploughed save by wo-
mems weak arms.
How we marched on our our rag-covered,
How the poor lads paraded, with nothing to
eat!
don't know what makes me run on in this
There-the shoe is quite fast, sir-I bid you
A quarter Yes; thank you. That road to
your right
Five Ferks, did you say9 Was in that
l was and this bony hand fired the last gun
OF our last haggard rally ere victory was won.
By sheridans men, full of beef and hard
With miles CT fat wagon trains safe at their
back;
While the ragged Confederate frightened his
To hold in the sickening hunger he felt.
Then came Appomattox, the contest was
The long struggle over-you Yankees had
And is, is not peace better' you ask. Can
My thoughts are away where my four strong
boys fell.
TO s,gSs the question never 1SS % was agesaoa good
We must 20 with our State-and can't tmake
TO my mind that my four boys have all
died in vain
perhapsy ou are right--you talk like a book |
I'm old and tired out, and SO can't look
Away back to "principles -; all can do
Is plough up that hillside and set Il horseshoe |
TO feed these poor children; but sometimes
dream
)f the old days in Charleston--how far off |
they seem!
)h proud was old Charleston, down there |
by the sea.
And bright were those days; but they're over
for me
Forever. Yes-Time; but he never can give
Ny boys, who had only their one life to live.
don't understand, and it's no use to try;
But the Lord understands, and He'll tell me
why
some day when, at last, my four lost boys
will come
FOCAL their old father, and carry him home.
There's u horse wants u shoe-yes, they're
rs Judge Brown of this district. (Eh, what's
that you say?
He's colored? OF course; we're used to that
hereD
let me hold your horse, Jude. Run, Joe,
bring chair.