Ottumwa weekly courier. (Ottumwa, Wapello County, Iowa) 1872-1899, 1876-10-04
An Elocuent outburst !.

SOHi 0uoss tuC Ivy as Dsuct So sss'
Indianapolis convention, the inspira
ton Of the occasion caused him Il
give impromptu uttcrance TO the fol
lowing eloquent, touching, and pa
thctic passage. We have never reat
anything of the kind equal to it. I
proves him to be natural born ora
tor of the first order.
lie was recalling the scenes of th,
war, and said:
The past rises before mo like ,
dream. Again we are in the grca
struggle for national life. We heal
the sounds of preparation--the musi,
Of the b0isterous drums-the silver
voices of heroic bugles. We see thou
sands Of assemblages, and hear tn,
appeals of orators; we see the pal,
cheeks of women, and the flushed
faces Of men and in those assembling
es we see all the dead whose dust W,
have covered with flowers. We LOST
sight of them no more. We are will
them when they enlist in the grea
army of freedom. We see them par
from those they love. Some ar,
walking for the last time in Quie
woody places with the maidens they
adore. We hear the whisperings and
vows of eternal love as they linger.
ingly part forever. Others are bend.
ing over cradles, kissing babies that
are asleep. Some are receiving the
blessings of old men. Some are part.
ing who hold them and press them te
their hearts again and again, and say
nothing and some are talking with
wives, and endeavoring with brave
words spoken in the old tones t.
drive ont from their hearts the awful
fear. We sec them part. We Gee
the wife standing in the door with
the babe in her arms,-standing in
the sunlight sobbing,-at the turn ot
the road hand waves. she answers
by holding high in her loving hands
the child. He is gone, and forever.
We see them all as they march
proudly away under the Haunting
flags, keeping time to the wild, grand
music of war-marching down the
streets Of tho great cities, through the
towns and across the prairies, down
TO the fields o. glory, to do and to die
for the eternal right.
We 20 with them one and all. We
are by their sides on all the CORY
fields, in all the hospitals of pain, or
all the weary marches. We stand
guard with them in the wild storm
and under the quiet stars. We are
with them in ravines running with
blood--in the burrows of old fields
We are with them between contend.
ing hosts, unable to move, wild with
thirst, the life ebbing slowly away
among the withered leaves. We sec
them pierced with balls and torn
with shells i'm the trenches by forts,
and in tho whirlwind Of the Charge,
where mon become iron with nerves
of steel.
We arc with them in the prisons OF
hatred and famine but human speech
can never tell what they endured.
We are at home when the news
comes that they are dead. We see the
maiden in the shadow of her frs,
sorrow. We see the silvcred head OF
the old man bowed with the last
grief.
The past rises before us and we see
four millions of human beings gov.
erned by the lash ; we sec them bound
hand and foot; We hear the strokes
Of cruel whips; we see hounds track.
ing women through tangled swamps
We sec babes torn from the breasts
of mothers. Cruelty unspcakable
outrage infinite!
Four million bodies in chains, four
million souls in fctters. All tho sa-
cred relations of wife, mother. father
and child trampled beneath the bru-
tai feet of might. And all this was
done under our beautiful banner OF
the free.
These heroes are dead. They died
for liberty, they died for us. They
are at rest. They sleep in the land
they made free, under the flag they
rendered stainless, under the solemn
pines, the sad hemlocks, the fearful
willows and the embracing vines.
They sleep beneath the shadow of the
clouds, careless alike of sunshine or
storm, each in the windowless palace
of rest. Earth may run red with 9TH
er wars-they are at peace. In the
midst of battle, in the roar Of conflict,
they found the serenity of death. ( A
voice-"Glory."l l have one senti.
ment for the soldiers living and dead
cheers for the living and tears for
the dead.