The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-05-30
INGERsOLL's DREAM.
n Indiananolis in 1876

Speech at Indianapolis in 1876.
The past, as ii were, rises before me like
dream. Again we are in the great strug-
gle for national life We hear the sound of
preparation-the music of the boisterous
drums, the silver voices of the heroic
bugles. We see thousands of assemblages,
and hear the appeals Of orators; we see the
pale faces of women and the flushed faces
of men; and in those assemblages we see all
the dead whose dust we have covered with
flowers. We lose sight of them no 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 the quiet. woody places
with the maidens they adore. We hear the
whisperings and the sweet vows of eternal
love as they iageringly part forever Others
are bending over cradles kissing babes that
are asleep. Some are receiving the bless
ings of old men,. Some are parting with
mothers who hold them and press them to
their hearts again and again, and say
nothing; and some are talking with wives.
and endeavoring. with brave words spoken
in the old tone, to drive away the awful
tear. We see them part. We see the wife
standing in the door with the babe in her
arms-standing in the sunlight sobbng. At
answers by holding high in her loving hands
the child. He is gone, and forever.
We see them all as they march proudly
away under the Haunting flags, keeping
marching down the streets of the great
cities-througn the towns and across the
prairies-down to the fields of glory. to do
and die for the eternal right. We go with
them one and all. We are by their side on
all the CORY fields, in all the hospitals of
pain, on all the weary marches. We stand
guard with them in the wild storm and un-
der the quiet stars. We are with them in
the ravines running with blood-in the fur
rows of old fields. We are with them be-
tween the contending hosts, unable to move,
wild with thirst, the life ebbing slowly
away among the withered leaves. We see
them pierced by balls and torn with shells
in the trenches of forts, and in the whirl-
wind of the charge. where men became iron
with nerves of steel We are with them in
the prisons of hatred and famine. but hu-
man speech can never tell what they en-
dured We are home when the news comes
that they are dead. We see the maiden in
the shadow of her sorrow. We see the sill
last grief. The past rises before us We
hear the roar and shrek of the bursting
shell. The broken fetters fell. These heroes
died. We look. Instead of slaves we see
men and women and children. The wand of
progress touches the auction block the
slave pen and the whipping post. and we
see homes and firesides. and schoolhouses
and books, and where all was want and
crime. and cruelty and fear, We see the
faces of the free.
These heroes are dead. They died for lib
erty-they died for us. They are ar rest
They sleep in the land they made free nm
der the flag they rendered stainless under
the solemn pines. the sad hemlocks. the
fearful willows. the embracing vines. They
sleep beneath the shadows of the cIouds
careless alike of sunshine or storm. each
in the windowless palace of rest Earth
NAV run red with other wars-thev are %
peace. In the midst of battle in the roar
of conflict, they found the serenity of death
have one sentiment for the soldier. liy-
ing and dead-cheers for the living and
tears for the dead.