Morning journal and courier., 1886-06-01

From General BlakesIee's Grafton.
General Blakeslee's grafton was full of
eloquent passages. He spoke from vivid ex
perience of camp, bivouac and battle. After
speaking of the lapse of years since the great
struggle, and the vast army of veterans who
have passed from earth since the close Of the
war, he said: How can I make mighty
experience in the nations life, which to some
of my auditors is the real thing in all their
memory while to others it is but history,
glow anew to the one, and become real to
the other. Let me do it by dwelling on
some insignificant yet representative things
Sumpter had surrendered reached q quiet lit
tie New England village too far from the
city to be troubled with rush and excitement
on a Monday morning. The call for $4,000
men brought the patriotic impulses of the
little village to focus. Brave speeches
deeds. 1t was grand and solemn
time Our newly enlisted volunteers
met to choose their officers, and
strange as it may seem none of them desired
leadership. 'fOfficers can't carry a gum"
they said, and not to carry gun was too
great privation. To their practical minds
the best way to ruin rebellion was along the
barrel of loaded musket. That was a great
day, INV comrades, when we broke camp and
started for the front. How firm the tread of
the strong, full ranks as the men cheered and
the ladies kissed their hands while the regi-
ment marched out as if on 8 triumphant gala
day How changed the scene when thy
came marching back again. The clothes
were old and faded and torn. The ranks
were thin. Of the thousand who marched
away SO grandly three years before
but a few scores remained. Where were
the resta Ask the battlefelds, ask
the hospitals, ask the prison pens, ask the
ask the murmuring south winds, which from
the tepid gulf to the cold St. Lawrence go
everywhere breathing soft requiems over the
named and nameless graves. If there was
less stir and fewer cheers it was not for lack
of joy that they were back again, but mems
hearts had grown weary of the war, and to
almost every looker-on the returning victors
symbolized some personal loss which made
it easier for them to weep than to cheer.
To many in the hall, especially the young,
General Blakeslee's description of battle
scene was highly interesting. He said:
What shall 1 say of the first battle? Per
haps it was in the glory of morning dawn
shrek of his shell startled you out of the
deepest sleep into the widest kind of
wakefulness. The ping of his bullets
as they swept across your camp had
certain terrible sound which made your
cheek pale for a moment. You were too
ger made you re olute. You took in the
whole situation and without waiting for Or
ders ran forward to meet the enemy. The
enemy was beaten back and his object de-
feated Or perhaps it may have been under
the broad light of day after hours of anxious
waiting. You have reserved yourself for the
conflict over and over again till the nerve
power is nearly exhausted by long delay.
You have heard the balls roaring all around
YOU and have alternated between fear and
hope until both seem painful. Anything
YOU think better than this dreadful waiting
in suspense But look out, there they
h Their rd l0Rg gray line tanks i issuing .na
stretches farther than you
on either side. What if they should out
flank US or our lines should break. Our bat
teries open on them. They close up the gaps
and move straight forward. They seem to
be irresistible at first. Now comes the roll
of musketry drowning all other sounds.
They stop before, it waver, turn and fly,
and now our bugles sound the charge. A
long blue line advances and sweeps on ma
jestically passing over ground, but just now
hot with shoe and shell you stand painting
on the very breastworks out of which they
charged you short time ago. The foe has
disappeared, you miss your comrades in
arms who marched next in line. Where is
he? Then you remember how you heard a
dull thud down by you as you charged up
the slope. You go to see and find
him lying as he fell. He was 80 good
and brave you weep for him, you bury him,
you care for his effects and write a sad, sad
letter to his mother. shall never forget the
first dead soldier saw. 1t was on the South
Potomac. Stonewail Jackson is on the top
of that high hill yonder. At sunset the in
fantry is ordered to dislodge him. The cav
airy can do nothing, 80 sit on my horse and
watch it all. I mark the advance of our
men by the flash of their muskets. They
struggle up the hill toward that putting line
of white smoke on the summit. There go
the ambulances tearing toward the front.
Down the road comes stretcher borne by
two men. They stop near me. 'Deadf' I
hear an officer say. eyes," it is answered,
"died on the way down" How my heart
tainted at that sound and nay throat was
choked, my eye was dimmed and cold
shudder ran over me.
To the soldiers of both sides alike we may
ascribe honor for their valor, even though
we cannot commend alike the cause for
which they fought. I have spoken of single
things and not of many. have spoken OF
little things and not of great. But yet has
not the memory of those four years come
back to us2 You recall the gloom whose
power was broken on Cemetery Ridge; also
you recall the glorious spring of 1865,
when General Grant stretched out his
left to the south and west of Petersburg
SO far that the frightened rebels
left their long line Of earthworks and fed