Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1897-01-24

| our years as O tale that Is told" Noble
| words, lofty sentiments, holy purposes,
! but dying into silence, ending In nothing,
| hushed In idle inactive sleep. What a
| vast and wasted sacrifice! nations
tears In vain. It's noblest blood shed for
| naught its prayers unheardi
SO as they looked at the past from the
human standpoint, II was full of baffiing,
inscrutable mystery. upon which reason
| could project not the slightest ray or
light AS we listen. do not these echoes
| OF tho past voice our thoughts? Tonight,
like the Hebrew soldiers OF my text,
these survivors of so many battles. these
veterans OF the great war. pitcn their
tents I'm the Border Land. almost upon
the brink Of the Mystic River. AS the
pilgrimage is coming 10 an end. as the
sunset Is In their faces and the ripple OF
the river grows louder In their ears, they
draw close together In the winter OF Ire,
tell over its story. We think OF tnat
wonderful life which began by the nash
OF the Potomac and ended, IKE the ire
of Moses, amid the sunset glory OF the
mountains. We think OF the virtues ana
the graces which adorned IT. the iortl-
tude, the genius, the piety, the seii-re-
pressIon. the lights and shadows that
checked Il and by their blending hues
made Il so beautiful and so grand
LIKE AGAMEMNoN OF OLD.
Once more the majestic figure OF our
great leader moves before us, our
Aeamemnon King OF men, VeritaDle
Mars and god of war. We see MN go
ing forth 10 battle like plumed knight
OF old, the ideal soldier. the highest
blossom and Towering forth OF our
southern civilization, it's model ana JUS
type. its pledge and proof TO all coming
ages: we follow him step by step
L.
chill and gloom OF the stormy autumn
evening In the house of prayer; we
see the klngly figure as he stands Tor
the last time on the earth, reVerently
folds his mighty hands with the Ialth
and love of a little child, lifts his race
TO speak with God; silent, speechiess,
as II before the vistas Of glory that
| shone through the opening portals %
death-and then he falls; and, unglins
amid the stars.
ut seemed there came but faint,
A ~ from beyond the limit Of the
world;
Like the last echo born Of a great cry.
Sounds as II some fair city were one
voice,
AROUND king returning from ms
wars"
we gather IN thought around the
white recumbent figure that covers his
| grave, and fifty typifies the purity ana
| the faultless proportions OF TIE form
| that sleeps beneath; and then memory
reverts to the cause he loved so wen;
| We follow the southern cross from tnat
j spring day when it was first unfurled
| amid the soft. sweet fragrance Of tropic
| flowers to the tragic end. when 1t hut
tered for the last time from the mast
| head Of the Shenandoah In the frozen
regions Of the Arctic, and the Aurora
Borealis flung its splendor over the
closing scene as It was lowered and
furled forever. What wonderful story
WHAT A MYSTERY 1T SEEMS.
No tale ever told by a campfire was
fuller of beauty, Of thrilling deeds. and
brilliant achievements; but, withal, how
sad! When we look back at the war,
merely from the human standpoint,
what a mystery 1t seems. we
see another nation, like the Hebrews,
making its exodus TO attain separate
existence. Did they not believe they
were following the voice that spoke
from the pillar Of cloud? Did not the
! smile of God seem TO rest in the be-
| ginning upon their exodus? Why, then,
was it led through years Of fruitless
wandering in the wilderness, only TO
come at last TO Aceldama, the field OF
! blood? How many graves lined the
way? Our path, like that of the
Hebrews. was strewn with dead; the
I youth, the chivalry Of the land cut
| down like a flower by the Reaper's
scythe; high hope. and beautiful en-
! thusiasm withered as the grass. extin-
| guished in nothing. going out in smoke.
AS we think Of those lonely, un-
marked graves shrouded in the gloom
| of the wilderness, on which the winter
storm now is heating, so cold and pitt
| less; as we think Of the hope, the love.
| the Joy buried there; as We think OF
| the sorrow Of mothers and widows and
orphans In thousands Of southern homes;
4 we may well take up and reecho
the lament OF those watchers by the
campfire in the Moabitish hills; what
! a costly and a wasted sacrifice, laid on
the altar Of war in vain. The chill Of
a great paralyzing doubt falls upon US
as upon them After ALL were We mis-
taken? Was the war an error Of human
! craftsmanship Were we following
only the inclination of our own hearts.
and not the leading of the divine and
unerring mind? Wandering blindly.
aimlessly, uselessly in the wilderness,
wasting our lives and spending our
year as a tale that IS told?
But that campfire teaches another les
son. When they looked at the past from
the human standpoint 1t was full of
darkness and despair. but we learn from
the context they looked at It also from
the divine standpoint, and when they rose
TO that lofty view, how different it SEEM
ed There are two lights in this "
/ one IS the fame man kindles on the
/ tops Of life; its light is both dim aud
! limited; it only Eliminates the little circle
in which man moves; its horison Is bound
/ ed by cradle and a grave its whole cir
/ conference fringed around with eternal
and impenetrable blackness. The other Is
the light of revelation, which Gods hand
/ kindled and whose flame is famed by His
breath; it casts a steady, unchanging ray
beyond the bounds of life, across the
sweep Of time, and far into the depths OF
| eternity itself.
GODS FOOTSTEPS VISIBLE.
! In its nlimitable circle God moves; we
see His footsteps as He marches through
history over PROSTATE nations TO work
! HIS will and battle His sword in Heaven.
/ OH IL makes a wonderful difference
whether we look at this world from the
| fire in the camp of man or the fire in the
| camp Of God. So, when these watchers
ceased 10 look down into the fading en-
bers, when they looked up to the bound
less fields where angels march and keep
their camp-fires, the vision changed; over
all the dark and troubled past, a glory
was reflected; through its tangled and
confused wanderings a golden thread OF
unity ran; out of its apparent waste
| rich and abiding harvest came; out or It's
! loss and defeat, triumph and victory
Beyond the shadowy outlines Of the
mountains and the circle Of the world
(< gRY5E5W WNHyuE NJ