The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1908-04-25
THE Weird CITY
Of The Dead ;
An EUening' 5 Solfloquy
BY j. POLK RACINE

Have any OF my readers ever sat in a
great metropolis at even, when the
shades OF night are gathering from all
around, and hang like huge demon
just above
| have many, yes, many dear old
friends yonder in the great dead city,
adjacent 10 Howard street.
Now, | am not Spiritualist. but
do love to- sit near to the windowless
Palace OF dead friends and comrades,
in the Silly night and muse, and pom
der over things, OF which those depart
ed friends have played leading part.
Ii was on a beautiful evening re-
Gently that my little dog, Fannie,
pranced around me and begged with
her soft brown eyes, more eloquent
than speech, to take her for a walk
Dear old Fannie dog, for over nineteen
years the always faithful friend OF hei
master. the Scribe.
When we started for our evening
stroll, said, Which way, Fannie'"
And she led me to the lonely city OF
the dead. When we arrived at the por-
tai OF the silent city. the herring frogs
were sweetly chanting their evening
vespers, in the marsh below. and the
lovely twilight was being pushed to
the background by that other pheno-
menon which follows Immediately after.
All, yes, now we are in the heart OF
the monumental city. oh, how the
city has grown, how faithful have the
builders been in laying out blocks on
every side OF the vistas, within the
few years since the city had started
"Ah, yes" soliloquized, here thew
are lying all around me, hundreds OF
them. who are jewellers OF this new
city, and knew them nearly all, in
life. Many OF them had worked for,
and many had worked with. Two OF
my brothers are occupying dark pal
aces nearby. And many dear old COM
rades are in this silent bivouac OF the
dead"
But just now church bell breaks
the stiffness Of the lonely graveyard,
and never did call from God i'm
press me more fully than the pealing
OF this church bell on this occasion.
II seemed that the spirits OF every one
OF my erstwhile friends were whisper
ing, pleading in my ears, something
like this: Hasten to the call, that
you may get ready to enter this, our
silent city" But how awful, how SOL
emn was the old bell sounding, mid the
weird bowling OF the canine tribe yon-
der on Main street Little Fannie
started tiny chant OF bow-wo-wo-wo.
but gently slenced her, because
were yet more than needed from
withou, the lonely city.
But must linger just here. for a
short period. while name over sew
cral OF the dear old comrades. who
are quietly resting in this last bivouac.
On James eternal camping ground,
Their silent tents are spread.
And glory guards with solemn sound
The bivouac, OF the dead"
All, how ravenous has this lonely
city been, in gathering in the old boys
OF the blue. And is there any wonder
that | was sentimental while sitting
in this dreary bivouac and surrounded
by the tombs OF many, with whom |
had messed, bunked, sang, marched
and even fought at Antictam and Bloody
Lane. | repeat, is there any wonder
that sentiment comes into my old heart,
and starts me raving as though | were
mad' Yes, hther, ,hithcr and yon,
are lying, these brave and once joyial
comrades H. H. Bennett, John b.
Dunbar, George W. Lewis, William
Davis. William J. Aldrich, William J.
Collins, William r. Drew, John w
Draper, Charles Martin, d. l. Sloan,
Thomas W. Tyson, John w. Cantwcll,
\mos McNcal George Turner, John
Davidson. Richard Thomas, Jacob