Ashland tidings. [volume] (Ashland, Or.) 1876-1919, 1912-11-28
A WARTIME THANKSGIVING.

The day after the battle was
Thanksgiving, and we had services in
Chattanooga-sad, solemn, grand.
The church bells hung dumb in their
towers, indeed, and you shall know
why in its time, but for all that,
there were chimes so grand that men
uncovered their heads as they heard
them. At u o'clock the great guns
at Fort Wood began to toll. Civil
ians said, The guns are not shotted,
and the sound is too regular for
work" l hastened out to the fort,
and the guns chimed on. A dim i'm
preston had received before bright
ened as | stood upon the parapet and
looked over the scene. What it was
like flashed upon me in a moment:
the valley was grand cathedral,
Fort Wood the pulpit of the mighty
minister, and far down the descend
ing side in front rose Orchard Knob,
the altar. The dead were lying
there, far out to the eastern wall, and
Gods chandelier hung high in the
dome. They were the accents of
praise | was hearing; thirty-four syl-
tables of thanksgiving the guns were
saying: "Oh, give thanks unto the
Lord, for He is good; for His mercy
endureth forever!" And the hills
took up the anthem and struck sub
timely in from the Ridge it came
back, Give thanks unto the Lord -
and Waldrons height uttered it, for
His mercy endureth," and Lookout
valley sang aloud, forever, forever, "
and all the mountains cried, "Amen!"
And the churches of Chattanooga
had congratulations Those who
composed them had come silent and
suffering and of steady heart; had
come upon stretchers; come in mems
arms, like infants to the christening
ambulances had been drawing up t
the church doors all night with theil
burdens, and within those walls i
looked one great altar of sacrifice
The nearest of these edifices is hard
ly dozen PAGES from my quarters
and | go out and sit upon its ste
wherein the gifted Murdoch, only
few days before, had given his splen
did renderings of drama and lyric
l do not hear the music of his voice
neither do l hear moan. The door
are noiselessly opening and closing
and l see pale faces-bloody gar
ments. Right hands lie in the pore
that have offended and been cut off
castaway feet are there, too, bu
there is nothing about SHINING fee
in the Sermon on the Mount. 1t i
not the house of wailing on who's
threshold l am waiting; it is tn
house of patience. Five still figures
covered by five brown blankets, ar,
ranged on the floor beside me. Thei
feet are manacled with bits of slen
der twine, but a spiders web coulC
hold them. | lift a corner of tn,
blankets and look at the quiet faces
By the gray coat | see that one is {
dead rebel. Do men look nearer
alike when dead than when alive
Else how could it have chanced thai
one of these sleepers in federal blue
should resemble him nearly enough
for both to have been 'twinned al
birth? They are not wounded in the
face, and so there is nothing to SHOCK
you; they fell in their full strength
Tread lightly, lest they be not dead
but sleeping. The silence within op.
presses me; it seems as if an accent
of pain from some sufferer in thai
solemn church would be a welcome
sound, and | think of a brave bird
wounded unto death, that / have held
in my hand, its keen eye undimmeC
and full upon me, throbbing with the
pain and dying, and yet so silent
b. F. Taylor