Fergus County argus. [volume] (Lewistown, Mont.) 1886-1946, 1891-06-11
THE DEAD HEROES.
Robert @. Ingersolrs Speech at Indianapolis.

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 boisterous drums-the silver
voices of heroic bugles. We see thous-
ands of assemblages and hear the ap-
peals of orators. We see the pale
cheeks of women and the flushed faces
of men; and in these 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 sweet VOWS of eternal
love as they ingeringly part forever.
Others are bending over cradels, kiss
ing babes that are asleep. Some are
receiving the old men. Some are part
ing with mothers who hold them and
press them to their hearts again and
again, and say nothing; and some are
talking with wives and endeavoring
with brave words spoken in bold tones,
to drive away the awful fear. We see
them part. We see the wife standing
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 i'm her low
ing 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 grand, wild
music OF war; marching down the
streets of the great cities, through the
towns and across the praires; down
to the fields of glory, to do and to die
for the eternal right.
We go with them, one and all; We
are by their sides on all the glory
fields, in all the hospitals OF pain, in
all the weary marches. We stand
guard with them in the wild storm and
under the quiet stars. We are with
them i'm the 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 pierced by balls and torn with
shells in the trenches OF the forts, and
in the whirlwind of the charge, where
men become 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 sorrow.
We see the silver head of the old man
bowed with grief.
The past rises before us and We see
4,OOO,OOO human beings governed by
the lash-we see them bound hand and
foot-we hear the strokes of the cruel
whip-we see the hounds tracking
Y 5men through tangled swamps-we
see the babes sold from the breasts of
mothers. Cruelty unspeakable; out
rage infinite!
Four million bodies in chains
4 900, 900 souls in fetters-all the sa-
cred relations of wife, mother, father
and child trampled beneath the bruta
feet OF might-and all this done under
our OVID DeauUllul DdLiltT vi Tic iTec.
The past rises before. We hear the
roar and the shrek of the bursting
shell. The broken fetters fall. Their
heroes d ed. We look, and instead OF
slaves we see men, women and children.
The wand of progress touches the auc-
ton block, the slave pen and the whip
ping post, and We see homes and fire
sides, schoolhouses and books, and
where all was want and crime and
cruelty and fear, We see thief ofthe
free.
Those heroes are dead. They died
for liberty; they 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 hemlock, the fearful
willows, the embracing vines. They
sleep beneath the shadows OF the
clouds, careless alike of sunshine or
storm, each in the windowless place OF
rest. Earth may run red with other
wars-they are at peace. In the midst
of battle, in the roar of conflict they
found the serenity of death. have
one sentiment for the soldiers, living
and dead-cheers for the living, tears
for the dead.