Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1892-08-11


Sioux-it is they who see the other side
of the picture, and ask: ''To what pur-
poser To what end?"
Outbreak has followed outbreak, cam
paign has followed campaign, each
marked by bitter losses in many a regi-
ment, each swelling the list of the
widowed and the fatherless. each ter
minated by the final surrender of hostile
bands satiated with the summers slaugh-
ter and shrewd enough to know that
they have only to wave the white rag of
submission to be restored to public con-
fdence and double rations Step aside
now, gentlemen Of the army, bury your
dead, patch mp your wounds, go back to
your stations and get ready for another
shindy in the spring You have had
your annual outing, the Indian only his
first innings. Now comes his second.
Now the bureau takes hold, and away
90 the prominent leaders of the red re-
volt in the annual pilgrimage, the an
nual starring tour through the east, and
the sentimentalists swarm to meet them,
and wheresoever they stop hosts of our
fellow citizens throng to smile upon
them, eager to clasp and shake the hands
that less than a month ago We're reeking
with the blood of mutilated soldiery for
whom desolate women and bereaved lit
tie ones are wailing hopelessly today.
Yfe victisl
Go on in your triumphal circuit, red
brothers Rain-in-the-Face, Thunder
Bear, Blizzard Hawk. Rejoice in the
sunshine Of your prosperity; go back to
your new lodges and unload your chests
of plumber, the free will offerings of
your palefaced kindred. The war has
made you rich Your squaws and chill
dren revel III food and finery galore, and
should supplies begin to slaclsen up lit.
tie with the coming of another spring
shoot your agent, carry off his wife and
daughters, and start in for another sum-
mer Of fun. AS for you, weeping widow
and children of Captain Something -Pve
forgotten his uame-shot from ambush
by the Sioux last fall, get back to the
east as best you can, dry your tears, and
be happy on twenty dollars month.
It's what one must expect in marrying
into the army
And now the last Of the blue column
has passed through the western gate,
and throng Of comrades surges after,
every man in the garrison, not other
wise on duty, trudging down through
the mist and mud to see Berrien's bat
TALON to the waiting train. The guard
springs to arms and falls in line-the
~
lieyed at eight a. m.-and again the
major lowers his saber in acknowledge
ment of their salute, and so, down the
winding road, tramp, tramp, steadily,
cheerily, even joyoasly, they go, and
the broad parade above is silent and de-
serted Women are sobbing in one an
others arms, and Mrs. Berrien, seated
at an upper window looking out to the
west, is stroking Winifred's glossy, rip
pling tresses- Winifred, who, kneeling.
has buried her tear stained face in her
mothers lap. Fainter ana RAINIER the
martial strains come floating up from
the wooded valley The band is play
ing another quickstep now, its prelude
full of vim and life and spirit, and
then What strange inspiration has
possessed the leader? Listenl hstenl
Winifred raises her head and looks one
instant with dilated eyes into her moth
er's pallid, quiyering face; then, cover
ing her ears with her slender hands,
burrowing again into her mothers lap,
she bursts into passion of tears. Listeni
Sweet, soft, sad, the beautiful notes Of
the thrice beautiful old song are waited
up on the gentle beeeze. Godl TO how
many breaking heart, how many q
world worn, weary, yearning soul has it
not spoken!
Love not. love not, ye hapless sons of clay.
1t is too much for Mrs. Berrien. Brave,
self controlled, uncomplaining as She
has been through it all, this is test be
yond her strength Down comes the
window with sudden clash, and then,
drawing her daughter to her breast,
clasping her in her loving, sheltering
arms, the mother heart gives way, the
sorrowing wife bows her head, and
rocking TO and fro in worthless grief,
mingles hen tears with those Of her be-
loved child.
Cheer upon cheer comes swelling on
the morning air. Cheer follows cheer
as Berlien's men return the soul stirring,
soldierly goodby. Guidons wave from
the tAronging platforms. Bronzed faces
peer from every window. Hats and
forage caps are tossing on high. Men
rush alongside the slowly starting train
for one last handclasp of the departing
comrades. The echoes ring to the roll
licking notes Of their old charging,
fighting tune. The trumpets answer
from the crowded cars. The sun bursts
through the eddyipg mist and streams
in glorious radiance upon tho scene. All
here ut the station throbs with soldier
song and spirit and enthusiasm, but
above-above, where in mournful pre-
monition one poor army wife is weeping
over three little curly heads pillowed in
her straining arms, there comes no sound
of soldier triumph, no echo of soldier
song. Sunshine and stirring music fol-
low the swiftly speeding train, but all is
dark and desolate now where gladness
reigned but day gone by.