The Portland daily press., 1889-08-21
AN ECHO OF ANTIETAM.
tFrom the July Century.l
Ill

Who that does not remember those battle
summers can realize from any telling bow
the fathers and mothers, the wives and sis
tiers and sweethearts at home lived through
the days when it was known that great
battle was going on at the front in which
their loved ones were engaged2 TWAS very
quiet in the house on those days of battle.
| All spoke in hushed voices and stepped
lightly. The children, too small to under
stand the meaning of the shadow on the
home. felt it and took their noisy sports else
where. There was little conversation, ex-
cept as to when definite news might be ex-
pected. The household work dragged sadly,
for though the women sought refuge from
thought in occupation, they were constantly
dropping whatever they had in hand to rush
away to their chambers to face the PRESENT.
menf, perhaps suddenly borne in upon them
with the force of conviction, that they
might be called on to bear the worst. The
able was set for the regular meals, but there
was little pretence of eating. The eyes of
all had a far-off expression, and they seemed
barely to see another. There was an intent.
listening look upon their faces, as if they
were hearkening to the roar of the battle a
thousand miles away.
Many pictures of battles have been painted,
but no true one yet, for the pictures contain
only men,. The women are unaccountably
left out. We ought to see not alone the OPP
posing lines of battle writhing and twisting
in death embrace, the batteries smoking
and flaming. the hurricanes of cavalry, but
innumerable women also, spectral forms of
mothers, wives, sweethearts clinging about
the necks of the advancing soldiers, vainly
trying to shield them with their bosoms, ex-
tending supplicating hands to the foe, raising
eyes of anguish to heaven. The soldiers,
grimfaced, with battle-lighted eyes, do not
see the ghostly forms that .hrong them, but
shoot and cut and stab across and through
them as If they were not there-yes, through
them, for few are the balls and bayonets that
reach their marks without traversing some
OF these devoted breasts. Spectral, alas, is
their guardianship, but real are their wounds
and deadly as any the cOmbarants receive.
Soon after breakfast ON the day of the
battle Grace came across to the parsonage,
her swollen eyes and pallid face telling of
sleepless night. She could not bear her
mothers company that day, for she knew
budb cuC ndu hCNCl 6iOou5 hhCN hihP'
Miss Morton was very tender and sympa-
thetic. Grace was little comforted by Mr..
Morton's saying that commonly great battles
did not open much before noon. 1t was a
respite to be able to think that probably up
to that moment at least no harm had come
to Philip. In the early afternoon the min
lister drove into Waterville to get the earliest
bulletins at the Banner" Office, leaving the
two women alone.
The latter part of the afternoon neighbor
who had been in Watervlle drove by the
house, and Miss Morton called to him to
know If there were any news yet. He drew
piece of paper from his pocket, on which
he had scrubbed the latest bulletin before
the Banner" office, and read as follows:
The battle opened with vigorous attack by
our right. The enemy was forced back.
stIbbornly contesting every inch of ground.
General Is division is now bearing the
brunt of the fight and is suffering heavily.
The result is yet uncertain"
The division mentioned was the one in
which Philips regiment was included, rs
suffering heavily"-those were the words.
There was something fearful in the way the
present tense brought home to Grace sense
OF the battle as then actually in progress. 1t
meant that while she sat there on the shady
piazza with the drowsy hum of bees in her
ears. looking out on the quiet lawn where
sleepy eye on the birds as they fitted in the
branches of the apple trees, Philip might be
facing storm Of lead and iron, or, maybe,
blent in some desperate hand-to-hand strug-
gle, was defending his life-her life-egainst
murderOus cut and thrust
To begin to pray for his safety was not
to dare to cease, for to cease would be to
withdraw sort of protecti0n-all, alas! she
could give-and abandon him to his enemies.
Ii she had been watching over him from
ahnua ha hot on xUitnnCC
carnage going on that afternoon on the far
off field, she could scarcely have endured
more narrowing suspense from moment to
moment. Overcome with the agony, she
and lay quivering, with her face buried in
the pillow, while Miss Morton sat beside her,
stroking her hair and saying such feeble
soothing words as she might
1t is always hard, and for ardent tempera,,
ments almost impossible, to hold the mind
balanced in a state of suspense, yielding
oyermuch neither to hope nor to fear, under
circumstances like these. As relief to the
torture which such state Of tension ends in
causing, the mind at length, If it cannot
abandon itself to hope. embraces even des-
pair. About 8 o'clock Miss Morton was
startled by an exceeding bitter cry. Grace
was sitting upon the sofa. 70 Miss MortOnP'
she cried, bursting into tears, which before
she had not been able to shed, ''he Is dead"
'Grace! Grace! what do YOU mean?"
''He is dead, know he is dead" walled
the girl; and then she explained that while
from moment to moment she had sent up
prayers for him. every breath cry to God,
she suddenly had been unable to pray more,
and this she felt was a sign that petition for
his life was now vain. Miss Morton strove
to convince her that this was bnt an effect Of
overweight nerves, but with slight success.
In the early evening Mr. Morton returned
with the latest news the telegraph had
brought. The full scope OF the result was
not yet known. The advantage had prob
ably remained with the national forces,
although the struggle had been one of those
close, and stubborn ones, with scanty laurels
for the victors, to be expected when men of
one race meet in battle. The losses on both
sides had been enormous, and the report was
confirmed that Philips division had been
badly cut up.
The parsonage was but one Of thousands
of home in the land where no lamps were
lighted that evening, the members of the
household sitting together in the dark
silent, or talking in low tones of the far
away, star-lghted battlefield, the anguish OF
the wounded, the still heaps of the dead.
Nevertheless when at last Grace went
home she was less entirely desparing than in
the afternoon. Mr.. Morton, in his calm,
convincing way, had shown her the ground
lessness of her impression that Philip was
certainly dead and had enabled her again to
entertain hope. 1t no longer rose, indeed, to
the height Of a belief that he had escaped
wholly scathless. In face of the terrible
tidings that would have been so presumptu-
GUS But perhaps he had been only
wounded. Yesterday the thought would
nave been insupportable, but now she was
eager to make this compromise with provi-
dence. She was distinctly affected by the
curious superstition that If we voluntarily
ep con something to fate while yet the facts
assn moy nnown, we gain sort of equitable
assurance against worse thing, 1T was
settled, she told herself, that She was not to
pS overcome OF even surprised to hear that
Phlilp was wounded-slightiy wounded.
should be wholly spared. 'A 'na' ne
The paper next morning gave many names
| of officers who had fallen, but Phillips was
| not among them. The list was confessenIv
| incomplete nevertheless, the absence of lis
| name was reassurlng. Grace went across
| the garden after breakfast to talk with Miss
i ~ and the auc,ainio..s