Arizona weekly citizen., 1893-06-03
A DREAM OF THF WAR.
Bob Ingersol1's Matchless Elcquence
 on a Subject Now Timely.

With this sesson of honor to the old soldier the following beautiful word painting, speech by Bob Ingersoll to veterans at Indianapolis, is timely:
 The past, as it were, rises before me like dream. Agaln we are ia the great struggle for national fife. We hear the sound of pTeparation-the music of the boisterous drums--the silver voices of h-roic bugl,s. We see thousands of assemb age, end hear the appeals of orators; We see the pale cheeks of women, a d the flushed faces Of men; and in those as mbiageS we see all the dead whose dus, we have covered with flowers. We lose sight of them np 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 m8ldens they adore. We hear the whisperings the sweet VOWS of eternal love as they liugeringly 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 press luOul bO lnCAA II oA 10 urall and again, and say nothing; and some are taking with wives, and endeevoring with brave words spoken in old tnnes to dive 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 sDbbing-at the turn of the road hand waves-she answers by bolding high in her loving Lo T l. 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 clties-throueh the towns and across the prairies-Goen to tte fields of glory, to do and to die for the eternal right.
 We go with them one and all. We are by their side on all the gory fields, in all the hospitals of ps!n---on all the weary ma ches. We stand guard with them in the wild storm ard under the quiet stars. We are with them in ravines running with blood in the furrows of old fields. We are with them b tween contending hosts, unable to move, wild with thirst. the life ebblGg slowly away among the withered leaves. We see them pierced by balls and torn with shells in the trenches of 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 endur,d d.
 We are at home when the news comes
 hat they are dead. We see ths maiden in the shadow of her s'rrow. We zee 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 being governed by the lash---we see them boucd hand and foot--we hear the strokes of cruel whips---we see the hounds tracking women through tangled swamps. We See babes sold from the breasts of mothers. Cruelty unspeakable Outrage infinite!
 Four million bodies in chains--four million souls in letters All the sacred relations of wife, mother, father and child trampled beneath the brutal feet of might. All tn was done under our own beautiful banner of the free.
 The past rises before us. We hear the roar and shriek of the bursting shell. The broken letters fall. The heroes dIed. We look. Instead of slaves we See men and women snd children. The wand of progress touches he auction block, the slave pen, and the whipping post, aud We see homes and firesi les, and school-houses and books, and where ali was want and crime, and cruelty and fear, We see the faces of the free
 These 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 stain less, under the solemn pines, the sad hemlocks, the fearful willows, the en- braciug vInes. They sleep beneath the shadows of the clouds, careless alike of sunshine or storm. each in the window less palace of rest. Earth may run red with other wsrs---they are at peace. In the midst of battle, in the roar of con- fict, they found the serenity of death. 1 have one sentiment for the soldiers living and dead --chners for the living and tears for the dead.