The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1912-03-06
eEu T was right to demolish the
temple that 1t might be
builded right"

past.
We did not go into the conflict of
the Civil war with hatred in our
hearts. We felt little hostility. We
believed our nationality would grow
greater and stand better by unity.
Dissolution would be a calamity.
Those of the South were antagonistic
to this belief Their principle was a
right to them which we in human
itys sake thought was wrong to en-
slave human being. The war was
inevitable. There was but one way
to settle the dispute. 1t was done.
Might and the majority and right
prevailed.
The war ended, as it had begun,
with malice towards none, and the
united States.
In narrating this, my great war
story, l do not claim to have done
more, or suffered more than other
comrades of the Civil war, whose
lines were drawn as mine. Nor
should l have published it only to
comply with the request of many
friends and comrades to whom
sketches of it were known. More
especially from several, who heard
my talk seven years ago, under the
auspices of Olympia Post, No. 3, G..
A. R., at Olympia.
| write this true story of pure pa
triotism from actual scenes OF deyo-
tion and loyalty at a time when a
mere denunnciation of our flag meant
life and liberty to men who were dy-
ing by scores.
1t is not often of late years that
a soldier of the Civil war is called
upon for inisences-perhaps be-
cause they have already talked too
much. TO some, their stories have
become old and secondhanded. Peo-
pie have lost interest in their deeds
of valor, and occasionally you will
hear the remark, Too much old SOL
der"
| can remember time when there
was not too much old soldier-sol-
diers young or old. In. fact, we
sometimes thought there was not
enough soldiers.
| myself was reminded of too much
war talk on an occasion where ! had
delivered my story at the city OF st.
Josept, Missouri, under the auspices
of Custer Post, No. Z, and the w.
R. c. Several comrades next day
were gathered around the festive
board of a generous friend. Eata-
bles and drinkables were numerous
for the occasion. Comments on my
great war story, given the evening
before, were freely INDUCED in. One
old gray-haired veteran, more espe-
Hcially directed his talk to me in the
following lines:
81 have sang their praise in prose
and verse
And shouted them near and far,
OF the blood they spilled,
And the Rebs they killed,
These boys OF the q, a. r.
But ! am free to say at this late day,
And while | have life and breath,
That the number they slew,
We're but one to two,
OF those they have talked to death"
am aware of public criticism. 1
do not expect all to fall in with my
great story and say, bravo! But it
has come to be regarded that the
loftiest expression of loyalty given
during the Civil war, by any class of
soldier, was that of the prisoner of
war.
Nearly 1900 laid down their
lives with the Battle Hymn on their
lips, Christ died to make men holy;
Let US die to make men free" Mar
tyrs, as well as heroes, they dragged
out the joyless, almost hopeless days
in hunger and torture of heart and
cold and storm, with only rags as a
covering. The pain of disease and
vermin racking their poor, emaciated
CT n L n hourly in thair.
midst, yet, through it all, to the al
Turing promises of liberty and plenty
If they would forswear their coun-
*try's flag, under whose folds they
had fought to the end, they were as
unyielding as our Saviour on the
mountain top TO the offered bribes of
Satan.
1t was a brave soldier, that charg-
ed into the forlorn hope, under the
Excitement of martial music and
blooming guns. But what credit
should we give the prisoner of war
who for days, weeks, months, and
some nearly years, stood upon the
brink of his own grave? Who, with
#shriyeled frame, and hollow eye, gaz-
ed into its yawning abyss, from the
rising OF the morning sun, till the
stars faded into twilight. No strains
or music inspired his soul to the
charge. No bugle call nerved him
for the fray. But the low-hummed
dirge of death crept over him each
day as he looked across to the prison
graveyard and watched that noun
tain of bleaching bones rise as COM
rade after comrade contributed his
body to its ghastly contribution.
A cold, white marble shaft stands
sentinel over that spot to-day that
time and age will never efface.
Friends and families will come to
the parting of the ways; generations
slumber, mold and decay; the light
nings flash and thunders rattle
around its spherical form; but the
Inscription written in letters of blood
will remain. Perhaps some lady will
read this whose husband approached
her with the startling news that
Sumpter had fallen, "our nation is in
peril Shall ! go to war and fight
for preservation of the union?" She
Hooked down at the little ones en-