The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1886-02-11
BLOODY PAPERS!
NUMBER XVII.

Who that saw the lively little fusi-
lade upon Kenesaw Mountain can evel
forget it? It seemed improbable that
a sparrow could have found room be-
tween the dropping shot to live, not
to think of so large creature as a
man. In fact this seems to have oc-
CURED to Gen. Johnston, as the next
mornings sun found him moving
away from that immediate neighbor-
hood. It is not necessary, in this
short article, to attempt to speak of
all the sad scenes about the saucy old
mountain. But there was one picture
which impressed itself upon our mind
as we moved beyond the mountain.
There was a comfortable little home
but short distance away from the
mountain, and though the wave of
war had heaved and dashed about the
little home circle, the head Of the
household was permitted to remain at
home, possibly being physically in
capacitated for active service-for all
able-bodied men were taken from
homes and put in service against the
flag of their country, in that part of
Uncle Sans dominions. This man,
who had become familiar with scenes
of passing troops, yet had not known
much of the real terrors Of war,
evinced a natural curiosity upon hear
ing the distant thunder of heavy guns,
and while standing in his own door
yard was struck by stray shot from
Federal cannon. and crippled for
life, possibly died, for aught we know.
This was an illustration of war being
brought home to the doors of the peo-
pie. All along the line of marching
and fighting between Chattanooga
and Atlanta, the people evidently ex-
pected Sherman's forces to be stopped,
and driven back. Still elaborate
earth-works were thrown up for the
use of Johnston's army if by any pos
sible misfortune that army should be
driven back. There was every indica-
ton that his people believed in the
power of the raveSSouthrons to
drive back the horrid invaders from
the North. They had been 80 taught.
and the idea that a Northern man
as an armed soldier-would ever reach
Atlanta, was probably entirely foreign
to them. Yet here, in this quiet
Southern home, the dreadful picture
begins to materialize.
First the long lines of merry men
in gray, on their way Northward; !;
next the line of shattered and bruised
men in gray being transported back;
next the far distant rumbling Of Fed
eral and Confederate guns, mingling
their harsh voices in song of death; j;
then nearer, nearer, until the shrek
Of shot and shell, and the terrific roar
of battle; men are killing one anoth-
er; homes in the South are being
thrown into mourning, while the sad
tidings go Northward, that loved ones
who marched away full Of life will
never return; the man who has never
doubted the promise of the complete
overthrow Of the ''Yanks,' steps out
before his door to listen, in alarm, to
the tremendous uproar; shaft from
the great battle strikes him down.
Now, while lying upon bed of agony,
this citizen Of the United States has
time to reflect upon the long train Of
circumstances that eliminated in such
disaster. He has heard, in the thun-
dering guns, what Atlanta heard, a
few days afterward, in the blowing up
of ammunition trains. What
was the cause, what great principle
had been demonstrated Was this the
sacrifice to worldly ambition? Was
all this suffering. and danger, and
death, the result of the selfish schemes
Of men? In vain will he seek for any
other conclusion.
A land which was made beautiful
by bright sunshine, balmy breezes
blooming flowers and pretty trees,
was transformed, by the seductive
voice of political intrigue, into vast,
gloomy, graveyard. Men died at
their own doors-honest men, who
believed in the righteousness Of their
cause, and who were in utter ignor-
ance of the spirit Of life and progress
that prevailed at the North. Mortal
tongue car never tell the story in all
its horror Of detail. True, the killing
is past, but the evidences of the
slaughter remain. They will not be
blotted out. Officials under the pres
ent administration may efface from
captured Rebel cannon the inscrip-
tions that offend sensitive vanquished
Rebels, but there are yet more strik-
ing evidences remaining, to tell of
the horror of the work of the Demo-
cratic party. Reader, you know the
record. Had there been no Demo-
cratic traitors, the war would not
have been. and homes North and
South would not have been in mourn
ing over the slaughter of brave men,
neither would these pictures Of which
we speak find place upon the map Of
history.
A Marietta cow-which, when
butchered made excellent beef y
had in her stomach fourteen pieces of