The weekly true Democrat. (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1905-1912, 1909-04-30

Few years ago, Wfeu We went LOFLu 70
/ war against a foreign foe, Puritan and
Cavalier once again side by side, and
this time we trust forever, showed 70
/ the world what a dangerous foe the
American was, when South and North
united 10 hgIt the battles Of the Re-
I public.
Like the metal in the cruciDle, melt
cd by the fierce heat Of the furnace, 90
we're the warning and discOrdant ele-
ments OF the American Republic melted
IN the fiery crucible Of battle, and on
the mighty anvil Of war, fashioned by
the hammer and stroke Of cannon, these
elements were st last welded into one
grand and glorious whole.
Forth from the homes and hresides
Of the South went, in the early sixties,
a mighty army Of brave and loyal men,
and what has become Of them7 Shall
I tell you Only q few are left, but a
thin gray line Of that once mighty host,
and the rest are sleeping the last long
sleep.
Thousands hsve died since peace
spread her white wings over our land,
and many, many thousands fell upon
the battlefield Today they sleep on the
hills Of Virginia, beneath the waving
bluegrass OF old Kentucky, by the
shores OF the Atlantic and beyond the
Mississippi Valley. And many Of those
gallant and brave heroes sleep in the
cities Of the dead Of our own beloved
State.
"By the flow Of the inland rivers,
Whence the fleets Of iron have fed;
Where the blades Of the new grass
quivers.
Asleep are the ranks Of the dead.
Unknown and unmarked are many Of
their graves, but over them drift the
leaves OF autumn with their mournful
signs And in the Spring the whippOor-
will sings lis requiem. Dead and their
graves unknown, but yet not forgotten,
for they are enshrined in the hearts Of
the Southern people. We love and
cherish the memory Of the SOuth's
chieftains, and down through the ages
we should pay tribute to them
And just here ! desire 20 especially
pay tribute % the memory Of the pri-
Vate soldier Of the Confederate army.
The Generals who commanded him
have been immOrtalized. Their names
are known throughout the civilized
world Their brilliant achievements have
become a part Of the history Of our
country Their names are chisled in the
everlasting granite which hands down
10 pOstedty the names Of Lee, Jackson. !
Of Hood and Bragg, Of G. OrdOn and Hill, |
and Kirby Smith, Of our own fair State !
But OF the private soldiers who
fought and toiled and marched and suf |
fered, whose deeds made the men whose !
names we have just mentioned famous.
but little has been written.
Here and there a lonely marble shaft |
lifts its head 10 the blue dome Of Heav- |
en- In cOmmemOratiOn of those humble |
men, and here and there some match |
less orator has told his story Of devotion |
But no words Of mine can tell of the |
courage and fidelity of this humble but |
matehless soldier OF the South, IS can /
those beautiful words OF Fitzhugh Lee, |
In which he said:
THE picture Of the private soldier Of
Lees army 1t Sharpsburg, as he stood
In the iron hail with his old, torn, slOuch
hat, his bright eyes glistening with the
excitement, his 20 Eder.stained face,
rent jacket and torn trousers, blanket
IN shrsds, and the print Of his shoeless
feet In the dust Of battle. He was a
very tatterdemalion loading and firing
his rifle with no hope Of reward. no
promise Of promotion, no pay and scan
ty rations. II he stopped one Of the
bullets he would De buried
where the battle ragged, In an unknown
grave. and be fOrgotten, except by
comrades, and possibly by a pool old
mother who was praying In her South
em home for the safe return Of her sol.
der boy" Surely this picture ought 10
be framed, as General Lee said Il should
be, In the hearts Of all who love true
courage wherever found. One Of the
saddest sights, and one which causes the
tears 10 dim the vision, Is to stroll
through a cemetery where rest our sol
der dead. and see on the pale white
stones that single word, unknown"
Perhaps of him who sleeps beneath II
might be said that he was the braveat
Of the brave. Perhaps he died in the
rush Of battle, the colors falling from
his dying hands. Perhaps his mRngled
form, crushed and bleeding, BY flying
hoOfs and wheels Of artillery, was left
upon the field Of battle, a mute bur elO-
luent witness, protesting against the
brutality Of war. and who can tell the
hopes that may have been wrapped in
The soldier who sleeps beneath
In his far away Southern home his
yray-haired mother may have waited
long years for his return; a fond and
trusting wife may have listened in vain
for the footballs which once brought Joy
10 her heart. Possibly Il was children,
orphaned In their babyhoOd, who would
never know the loving touch OF q faith
ar's hand; or perhaps q sweetheart,
hoping against hope for the return Of
her soldier lover who sleeps IN an un.