Knoxville journal. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1874-1986, 1876-10-05

ing ana Qchu. i tuuuA yVu oo
and again, and again.
AN ELOQUENT PASSAGE.
The past rises before me like z
dream. Again we are In the great
for national life. We hear
the sounds Of preparation-the music
ofthe boisterous drums-the silver
voices of heroic bugles. We see
OF assemblages, and hear
the appeals Of orators; we see the
pale cheeks Of women, and the flush
I'd faces of men; and 10 those assem-
olages we see all the dead whose
lust we have covered with flowers
We lose sight OF them no more. We
are with them when they enlist In
The great army Of freedom. We see
them part with those they love.
Some are q walking for the last
time In quiet woody places with the
maidens they adore. We hear the
whisperings and the sweet vows OF
eternal love az they lingeringIy part
forever. Others are bending over
cradles, kissing babies that are
asleep. Some are receiving the
blessings OF old men. Some are part
ing with mothers who hold them
and press them to their hearts again
and again, and say nothing; and
some are talking with wives, and
endeavoring with brave words spo-
ken in the old tones TO drive
from their hearts the awful fear.
We see them part. We see the VIE
standing In the door, with the babe
in her arms standing in the sum
light sobbing-at the turn OF the
road a hand waves answers ~
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 wildgrand
music of the war-marching down
the streets Of the great cities, through
the towns and across the prairies--
down to the fields Of glory, TO doand
to die for the eternal right.
We go with them one and oil. We
are by their side on all the CORY
fields---in all the hospitals of pain
on 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 IN
blood--in the burrows Of old fields.
We are with them between conten-
ding hosts, unable TO move, Wild
with thirst, the life ebbing slowly
away among the withered leaves.
We see them pierced by balls and
torn with shells In the trenches by
forts, and In the whirlwind OF the
charge, where men become iron,
with nerves ofsteel.
We are with them in the prisons
of hatred and famine; but human
speech can never tell what they en-.
dured.
We are at home when the news
comes that they are dead. We see
the maiden In the shadow Of her
first sorrow. We see the silvered
head Of the 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 see them
bound hand and foot-we hear the
strokes of cruel whips,-we see the
honods tracking women through tam
gled swamps. We see babes sold
from the breasts OF mothers. Cruel
ty unspeakable! Outrage infinite!
Four million bodies In chains
four million souls In letters. All
sacred relations Of wife, mother,
father and child trampled beneath
the brutal feet OF night. And all
tins was done under our own beauti-
full banner OF the free.
The past rises before us. We hear
the roar and shrek Of the bursting
shell. The broken letters fall. These
heroes died. We look. Instead OF
slaves we see men and women and
children. The wand Of progress
touches the auction block, the slave.
pens, the whipping post, and we see
homes, and flresides, and school
houses and books, and where oil was
want and crime and cruelty and
letters we see the faces 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 the SUM-
shine or OF storm, each in the win.
dowless palaces of rest. Earth may
run red with other wars--they are
at peace. In tho midst OF battle, In
the roar Of conflict, they found the
serenity of death. IA voice-"Glo.
ry."] have one sentiment for the
soldiers living and dead--cheers for
the living and tears for the dead.
THE BACHELOR CANDIDATE.
Samuel j. Tilden IL an attorney; O
legal spider that weaves webs Of
;echnicalities, and catches In lie
neshes honest incorporated flies. He
1as stood on the shores OF bankrupt
" and clutched the drowning nv ina