Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1876-10-11
An Eloquent Outburst.

When Col lngcrsol addressed the BOYS
in Blue, at the indianapolis Convention,
the inspiration OF the occasion caused him
to give impromptu utterance to the fol-
lowing eloquent, touching and pathetic
passage. He was recalling the scenes of
the war, and said:
The past rises before me like a dream.
Again we are in The great struggle for Ma
tional life. We hear the sounds of prepare
tion-the music Of the boisterous drums
the silver voices Of heroic bugles. We see
thousands of assemblages, and hear the APP
peals oil orators; we see the pale cheeks of
women, and the flushed faces OF men; and in
those assemblages we see all the dead whose
dust we have covered with flowers. We lose
sight of them no more. We are with them
when they enlist in the great army of free
dom. We see them part from those they
love. Some are walking for the last time in
quiet, woody places with the madens they
adore. We hear the whisperings, and the
sweet vows of eternal love as they lingering
ly part forever. Others are bending over
cradles, kissing babies that are asleep. Some
are receiving the blessings Of old men. Some
are parting with those 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
spoken IN the old tones to drive from their
hearts the awful fear. We see them apart
We see the wife standing in the door, with
the babe in her arms-standng in the sun
light sobbing-at the turn of the road hand
waves-she answers by holding high in her
loving hands the child. He is gone, and for
ever.
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 the great
cities-through the towns and across the
prairies-down to the fields of glory, to do
and to die for the eternal right.
We go with them one dad all. We are by
their side on all the CORY felds--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 with blood--in the
burrows of old fields. We are with them be.
tween contending 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 of steel.
We are 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 first sorrow. We see the
silvered head Of the old man bowed with the
last grief.
The past rises before US and we see four
millions of human beings governed by the
lash; we sec them bound hand and foot; we
hear the strokes of cruel whips; we see the
hounds tracking women through tangled
swamps. We see babes sold from the
breasts of mothers. Cruelty unspeakable,
Outrage nfinitei
Four million bodies in chains-four mill
ion souls in letters. All the sacred relations
of wife, mother, father and child trampled
beneath the brutal feet Of might. And all
this was done under our own beautiful ban
ner 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 pen,
the whipping-post, and We see homes and
hresides, and schoo-houses and books, and
where all was want, and crime, and cruelty,
and letters, we see the faces of the free.
These heroes are dead. They died for
liherty-thcy died for us. They are at rest.
They sleep in the land they made free, under
the iIag they rendered stainless, under the
solemn pines, the sad hemlocks, the fearful
willows and the embracing vines. They
sleep beneath the shadows Of tho clouds
careless alike Of the sunshine or OF storm,
each in the windowless palace ~ rest. Earth
may run red with other wars--they are at
peace. In the midst of battle, in the roar of
conflict they found the serenity of death.
"A voice" Glorvrl | have one sentiment
for the soldiers living and dead--eheers for
the living and tears for the dead.