Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1891-05-28
1nqersolrs Dream Of the war.

--zO-8OAA . 0-O III VIC w GAls
THE following words Of matchless elOquenee
were addressed by Col. IngersOn to the Veteran
Soldiers Of Indianapolis:l
The past, as it were, rises before
me like dream. Again we are in
the great struggle for national life.
We hear the sound of preparation
the music of the boisterous drums
the silver voices of heroic bugles.
We see thousands of assemblages,
and hear the appeals of orators; we
see the pale cheeks of women, and
the flushed faces of men; and in those
assemblages we see all the dead whose
dust we have covered with flowers.
we lose sight of them no more. We
are with them when they enlist in the
great army of freedom. We see them
part with those they love. Some are
walking for the last time in quiet,
woody places with the maidens they
adore. We hear the whIsperings and
the sweet VOWS of eternal love as they
lingeringly part forever. Others are
bending over cradles kissing babes
that are asleep. Some are receiving
the blessings of old men. Some are
parting with mothers who hold them
and press them to their hearts again
and again, and say nothing; and some
are talking with wives, and endeavor-
ing with brave words spoken in the
old tones to drive away the awful
fear. We see them part. We see the
wife standining in the door with the
babe in her arms-standing in the
sunlight sobbing-at the turn of the
road hand waves-she answers by
holding high in her loving hands the
child. He is gone, and forever.
We see them all as they march
proudly away under the Haunting
flags, keeping time to the wild music
of war-marching down the streets
of the great cities-through the towns
and across the prairies-down to the
fields of glory, and do and to die for
the eternal right
We go with them one and all. We
are by their side on all the CORY fields,
in all the hospitals of pain-on all the
weary marches. We stand guard
with them in the wild storm and I'M
der the quiet stars. We are with
them in ravines running with blood
in the burrows of old fields. We are
with them between contending hosts
unable to move, wild with thirst the
life ebbing slowly away among the
withered leaves. We see them pierre
ed by balls and torn with shells in
the trenches of forts, and in the whirl-
wind of the charge, where men be-
come iron with nerves of steel.
We are with them in the prisons of
hatred and famine, but human speech
can never tell what they endured.
We are at home when the news
comes that they are dead. We see
the maiden in the shadow of her sor-
row. We see the silVered head of
the old man bowed with the last grief.
The past rises before US, and we
see four millions of human beings
governed by the lash-we see them
bound haad and foot-we hear the
strokes Of cruel whips-we see the
hounds tracking women through the
tangled swamps. We see babes sold
from the breasts of mothers. Cruelty
unspeakable! Outrage lnfnitel
-Four million bodies in chains-four
million souls in letters. All the sa-
cred relations of wife, mother, father
and child tFampled beneath the bru-
tai feet of might. all this was done
under our own beautiful banner of
the free.
The past rises before us. We hear
the roar and shrek Of the bursting
shell. The broken fetters fall.
There heroes died we look. In
stead of slaves we see men and women
and children. The wand of progress
touches the suction-block. the slave
pen, and the whipping-post, and we
see homes and firesides, and school
houses and books. and where all was
want and crime, and cruelty and fear
we see the faces of the free.
These heroes are dead. They died
for liberty-theF died for us. They
are at rest They sleep in the land
they made free. under the flag they
rendered stainless. under the solemn
pines, the sad hemlOcks, the fearful