Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1892-06-11

clinging arms OF sweethearts, all locke,
at the beautiful banner Of their country
choked down their rising sobs, graspe
the sword of war and rushed to tn
South to overthrow the champions o
secession and exterminate the vice O
Slavery.
Who can describe the events of thos
dreadful. days, when the image of wa
set on every cloud and the spirit of strif
breathed bloodshed in every breeze
Who can depict the anguish of partipgs
the fears that filled the soldiers home
the prayers that were uttered, the tear
that were shed. the long anxious years o
waiting and hoping for the footsteps tina
never came, the shrieks of woe that fol
lowed the news of death until words be
came became pangs and sentences con
vulsions of agony. No adequate express
ion can be given in human language Of
the sharp misery brought upon the
homes of this land by that wicked
rebellion.
More difficult still it is to tell the trials
and sufferings OF those who went to the
front, through mud and morass, exposed
to the scorching sun of summer, OF
pierced by the bitter blasts of winter,
moved southwark, this irresistible forest
blue.
It was noble sight to see an army OF
free men, marching in defence of freedom
and the flag.
Sometimes in green and fowery val
leys, sometimes on rugged and barren
slopes, near to beautiful rivers or by
baleful swamps, WIGS pitched the white
city of tents where the grand army had
camped. Here guarded by the sleepless
vigilance of the sentinel. the soldier slept.
Above him smiled the peaceful moon or
the clear stars. Here in dreams he WIS.,
tied the loved ones at home, looked again
into the faded face of his mother, saw
the loving smile of his wife and heard the
merry prattle of his children, felt their
little dimpled arms about his neck
dreams full of love, joy and peace, but,
alas! How sweet and short, from which
be must awake to hear the call, to arms!
the roar Ut battle and see the face of
death.
He'll hath no fortunes but what follow
in the wake of war. Disease of the
most loathsome and deadly character
hover in the air and lurk in the earth
about the soldiers tent, forebodings of
a long, lingering, loathsome, furnishing
death far from home and friends, and an
unknown grave in strange land, are in
mind.
Death whistles in the air about him.
He breathes the powder blast. He wades
in blood. He is blinded by the smoke.
He is deatened by the roar, his friends
fall, he has no time to weep, he is wound
ed, he heeds it not, he is infatuated by
the spirit of strife. Like mad lion he
rushes pell NELL into the jaws of death.
He is part of the awful whirwindIof war
that swallows all. The battle won-the
joys of victory are lost by the sight of
dead anddying comrades. With
aching heart and fearful eyes he cares
for the wounded and buries the dead.
Would you observe the horrors of war?
Wait until the smoke has cleared away
and then go upon the battlefield. See
the mangled, bloodstained and battered
dead. Here war has done its worst and
all lay ghostly, pale and still. Go then
to the hospital and see the bloodstained
piles of amputated legs and arms; hear
the heart-piercing groans while sur
geons probe the bleeding wounds of VIC
Tins for the fatal ball; listen to the lag
ging utterances of the dying; observe the
hand of death draw his ashen veil over
the soldiers face.
These sights are horrible, most hor-
rible, but they are pleasant to behold
with many of the spectacles
in rebel prisons. Happy indeed
was the soldier, who in the tumult of
battle, found the peace of death COM
pared to the poor victim of hellish
cruelties who was captured and sent to
In this charnel house of
horrors, infested with filth, vermin and
pestilence, starved and rotted into the
most lingering, loathsome and painful of
deaths thousands of the patriotic sons of
this Republic.
The inhuman fiends. who invented and
operated this internal machine need no
erected to preserve their
memories. As long as the earth shall |
have history their names shall be bis |
tered upon its pages as the basest, vilest |
nhuman wretches who ever walked the
lace of Gods footstool.
This great Republic now is and forever
shall be lasting monument to the men, |
Dry OF the boys in blue. Many of them
may sleep in an unknown graves and the |
grass of the meadows and weeds of the |
wilderness may grow in indistinguished
rerdure over the soldiers tomb, but we