The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1884-08-13
THE SOLDIERS FUNERAL.
CHE PATHETIC STORY OF A PRI-
YATES BURIAL.

surrounded by Comrades, Far Away
From Home, lie Dies and is Laid
Away Forever.
Some of the bows will remember the
day we buried Billy Taylor, private,
company, Forty-seventh Illinois infantry.
| remember, because it was the first time
| ever marched in a military funeral, and
| was only boy; hadn't seen my nine
teenth year then, and l wasn't much
taller than the musket / carried. Billy
wasn't killed in battle. He had passed
through dozen fights; every time the
Forty-seventh went in he was close by
the colors, and shot or bullet never
touched him, but the gods of war de-
manded more lives than the rife and
cannon could pile upon his reeking altars,
and so death, wearying may be, of the
red carnage of the field, often came to
our tents to select victim for the sacri-
fee. So Billy was excused from duty
one day, and sat about in the tent, and
tried to shake off the sickness that came
creeping over him, and had time to write
part of letter, and then he planned
what he would do to morrow. And
the next day he was excused again, and
stayed in his bunk, but it was hard,
and he could feel the knots in the
board under the blanket, and it
made him restless, and he thought if he
didn't feel better to-morrow--but he
knew he would-he would go to the
/ regimental hospital. And the next day
he was better; so much better that he
was pronounced well, and his name was
stricken from the sick-list. 1t was also
stricken from the company roll and he
was marked off duty forever Six men
were detailed for pail bearers, a corporal
and eight men for escort, and following
marched the men and officers of the COM
pany, in the inverse order of their rank
Somehow, the sunshine seemed dim
and misty as the muffled drums spoke
mournfully, and our slow steps seemed
to be marked off by heart breaking sobs
in distant home away up in the far
away Northland. The wailing flies
breathed the pathetic strains of "The
Land O. the Leal until the air seemed
filed with tears:
There's nae sorrow there, Jean;
There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is ever fair
In the land O. leal
We could hear the sweet voices of
women, tremulous, grief ef-stricken in the
mourning flies. Women Since he
kissed mother, sister and sweetheart
good-by in the Prairie State he had not
heard woman's voice syllable his name.
! His last dying looks were bent upon
bronzed, bearded faces; and the kind
hands that dressed him for the funeral
march were hard, calloused with toll and
war and scented only with the cartridges
they had last handled. The voice of a
woman would have sounded to him like
the blessing of God. To die, so far
away from home; to die and know that
at that moment, ignorant of his passing,
the dearest of earth were joyous, sing
ing, laughing, may be; to die and know
that the days would creep on into
weeks, and the weeks drag on
into months before they whose names
were quivering on his loving, praying
lips, would know it; to die and know
they would be still writing letters to
him when his eyes would be closed and
the heart that longed and loved would
be stilled forever. 1t is sad, sad thing
to bury soldier.
But sorrows sell wears past, Jean,
And joys comm fast, JEAN
The joy that's aye to last, Jean,
In the land o. the leal.
And they-what would be the measure
of their sorrow in the stricken home.
His dying kiss, his last goodby, the 10y
ing look in the closing eyes, the peace
that death would print upon his face
they would never see it, they would
never hear it, they would never know it.
What wonder our soldiers hearts were
heavy as the burden on the bier, and our
tears were faster than our measured
steps! And the mournful drums in their
sad monotone, pattering like tears upon
a coffin lid, sobbed on like the murmur-
Gus rushing of troubled stream, hush
ing the shrill grief of the complaining
fifes, softening their cries into the plain
tive moaning of a sorrow that has wept
its violence away, and mourns with the
whispers of the plaintive night wind:
"Haltm and how softly the corporal
voiced his orders. crest on-arms!"
The chaplain is reading something from
the only book man read at that time:
81 am the Resurrection and the Life;
he that believeth in Me, though he were
dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever
believth in Me shall never die"
With broken voice he prays above the
der4 and our hearts echo his prayer, as
~ sm TO lie in the rude coffin with
LIr comrade.
Attention. Shoulder-arms Load
at will-frem
How the ringing volleys over the
grave, making a thousand discordant
echoes in the woods about r- break
in abruptly and harshly upon ief
by platoon, right wheg march
Column, forward, guide left, quick
marchg"
Cheerily the flies sang out the dancing
measures of "Gerry Owen, merrily rat
tie the close-strung, spirited and inspir-
ing drums, with pieces at a right
shoulder" Gaily back to the camp we
marched