The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1894-09-06
THE GIRLS OF 81.
How They Helped the Boys to Stand Fa


EDITOR NATIONAL TRIBUNE: Since becom-
ing regular reader Of THE NATIONAL TRIB-
USE | feel endowed with a sixth sense, sense
of reawakened comradeship with the heroic
souls who were the wonder and the solicitude
of my early girlhood In the High School of
which was member in the Spring of 81, all
but four of our boys enlisted in that m memorable
April, under Lincoln's first call. Those four
were TOO young to go. Suddenly forms and
faces shone TRANSPORTED that were common
place before. Not the schoolroom favorites
alone rose to the OCCASIONS grandeur but the
dull, the plain fellows, we girls had deemed
them, some of whom walked daily in to school
over dusty country roads. with the smell of the
furrow Oil their cowhide boots and big red ap-
pies for lunch bullying out their pockets; boys
whom only the fear Of our impartial teachers
eye had sometimes saved from demonstrations
OF sly merriment on our part at their clumsy,
frightened defamation of the patriotic pieces 4"
from the school speakers Of those days.
All at once they stood before us obedient to
the heavenly vision; strong men and true
realizing in their own persons the grandest
sentiments OF Patrick Henry, or Nathan Hale or
Daniel Webster. though their tongues may have
but awkwardly interpreted them on the purga-
torial rostrum Of Defamation Day." 1t was
our object lesson, never to be unlearned there
after in the splendid possibilities of American
manhood.
We had a wise and patriotic teacher, and
were well trained in the songs that inculcate
love OF home and native land. my Country
IT'S of Thee" tho "Star Spangled Banner"
The Red, White and Blue" had always been
among the interludes to our daily exercises;
and how we did sing and sing and sing them
now as a relief to our over-charged feelings in
the days that followed those leave-takings-
just flock of girls with few young boys. not
bass voice among u.s. I'VE missed those dear
hat had rt, ,;tk
From time to time new songs were added TO
our list, songs born in that period Of storm and
stress. Thus our souls marched on" with
John Brown, our feet kept time to the pIaintive
Tramp, Tramp" from the prison cell !; we
scared into prophetic regions with "a Thou
sand Years, My Own Columbia" and we made
our own that pathetic wait from the Southern
land whose refrain ran something thus:
But yet. but yet, we cannot forget
That many brave boys must fall"
Then, too, we organized High School Sock
society," oil which our teacher was private men,
Der; but her genius for thoroughness kept US
from making those huge, impossible specimens
OF footgear for our warriors which were usu-
ally sent to the front by the amateur knitters
OF those days. She showed US that even an
army sock might be sklfuly and elegantly
fashioned; and how benevoently oblivious she
was when We girls slyly stitched our locks Of
sun bright hair into the hens of silken COM
pahy hags. or wrought words of good cheer into
the crash and damask towels that went out
among the sanitary stores Many soldier in
hospital or field tent must have stared in
amused surprise, fancy. when about to wipe
bis face on sentiment daIntily conveyed
through the medium of red mark ng cotton, to
the effect that We're praying for you," or
God bless our soldier boys" or ITO the dear
est boy in the army"
One can smile now of remembering those in
nocent ebullitions of the deep and mighty surge
of feeling in which We had our common share.
But true it is that whatever we did then was
done tremendously in earnest-was done with
blessing and prayer. We lived very near
to God then, o. my sisters; we had to, else how
could we have borne our heavy part in the
universal sorrowP How consecrating, how en-
dearing were those experiences we underwent
together Is it not Emerson who says, "The
woman who has shared with US the moral sen.
timent. her locks must appear to US sublimean
And hence, in all my world of beloved women's
faces the sweet and shining memory OF the
girls of 1861 Is 40 the brightness of the frma.
ment. And BOW, and now
They show me spots Of dislpled sod,
They say the girls Of old are there
Oh, no! they swell the chors OF God,
The dear old songs everywhere"
~-EsTHER MAREpEAop