Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1890-03-07

flew half dressed to the windows com
handing a view of the scene. The
roar of cannon was distinctly heard,
and the house seemed to tremble and
shake with the unusual noise: the rat
tie of musketry, the flying OF bursting
bombs from the Federal boats, the in
cessant smoke and the rumble Of name
less battle sounds, kept us in suspense
and excitement, pride and fear, alarm
and enthusiasm, that were painful.
Gen. Breckinridge's name had always
carried victory with it in civil life,
where we knew him best. So. as [
watched and prayed, 1 could not bring
my thoughts tt the point that Il men
could be beaten on their own ground
under my very eyes! Ny thoughts
turned from these exultant channels to
what at first seemed to be stampeded
sheep, emerging from the foggy mist
in the far-away bend Of the road, swell
ing and surging, and rushing in the
widest hurry and fight, through a
volume of dust made ten times more
sitting by the fierce heat. These We're
not sheep. but human beings, running
pell-mell, under intense excitement, as
fast as their legs could carry them.
1t is a sad commentary on humanity
that individuals are swallowed up in
masses. When we prayed that our
troops might conquer and prevail, no
thoughts Of the hearts that might be
made desolate forever by the fatalities
Of war came to us. Victory! victory!"
was the cry OF every woman as she
buckled on the sword and sent her hus-
band and son to fight. No thought
came OF her own or any other woman's
desolation. So, that morning, stand
ing alone at my window, watching
through the dim mist what seemed to
be the ebb and flow of battle, hearing
in the distance the booming, kissing,
and rattling sounds of conflict, L never
once thought Of the homes of that be-
sieged city. of the women and children,
the old men and the sick-never once
thought Of them, s o swallowed up the
destiny Of the day every other consid-
Grafton. But when that struggling
mass was revealed to me-pouring,
painting, rushing unanimously down
the hot, dusty road, hatless, bonnet
less, some with slippers and no stock
ings, some with wrappers hastily
thrown I'VE night gowns; now and then
a coatless man on a bareback horse,
holding a helpless child in his arms be-
fore him, and a terrified woman cling
ing on behind; men trundling children
too young to run in dirty wheelbar-
rows, while other little half-clad, bare
footed ones ran beside, weary and cry
ing; an old man, who could scarcely
totter along, bearing a baby in his
trembling arms, while the distracted
mother carried an older child with
wounded and bleeding feet; occasion
ally could be deserted a battered UNI
brella held over some delicate woman
to temper the rays of what was fast be-
coming a blazing August sun. Some
ran, some stumbled along, others fall
tered and almost gave out. but before
l could hurry on my clothes they
poured into u gates and invaded the
house, a small army Of them, about SOC
tired, exhausted, broken-down, sick,
frightened, terrified human beings--all
routed from their beds by firing and
fighting in the very streets; rushing
half-clad from houses being riddled
with shot and shell; running through
streets filled with men fighting hand
to hand; wildly running they scarce
knew whittier, being separated from
children and wives and mothers in the
midst of the roar of battle, and no time
to look for them; no turning back; or
-on-on through yards and owe,
fences and down narrow, dusty lanes