The Dawson news. (Dawson, Ga.) 1889-current, 1922-05-02

mo in the morning sun we beheld
little family group out on the edge OF
the lawn. The boy is clothed as sol
der. His pockets and his haversack
are stored with little convenences
made by the loving hands OF mother
and sister and sweetheart, and the
sad vet proud hour has arrived, Tor
Richmond is calling for soldiers and
the bow is ready to go. Sisters, smll-
ing through their tears, filled with
commingled pride and sorrow, kiss
and embrace their great hero
The mother with calm heroism sup
pressing her tender maternal grief inn
presses upon his lips fervent, never
to-be-forgotten kiss and resigns him
to his God. his country and his honor.
The father. last to part grasps his
son by the hand gazeS with inettable
love into his bright eyes. and fearing
TO trust his feelings for a more
lengthy farewell. says simply, Good
bye my boy; God bless you, be a
man"
You whose loved ones left you to
become units in the recent titanic
struggle which shook the earth from
center to circumference have known
the heartacheS and sorrows OF sending
a husband or brother or sweetheart
out into dark and uncertain future
Let those scott who will, but let them
know that such a parting is itself a
new and wonderful power worth all
the danger and toll and suffering of
the soldier. The sisters tears, the faith
er's words, the mothers kiss planted
in the memory of that boy must sure
ly bring forth fruits as beautiful as
mothers love.
The boy hurries away with the
companions of his childhood days; he
is soon swallowed up by the camp
life; he is a soldier now. His to do
and dare and, if need be, die. He
marches. Dares he to murmur or
complain? No; endurance grows ST.
lently till pain and WEAKNESS are ia
miliar, and are cheerfully borne. He is
hungry; so are others, and he must
not only bear the privation, but he
must divide his pitiful meal with his
comrades; and so generosity strikes
down selhShness. When war assumes
her more serious dress he sees the
helpessness of women and children,
he hears their piteous appeals, and
chivalry burns him till he does his ut
most of sacrifice and effort to protect
and comfort and cheer them.
Through campaign after campaign
this boy fought as never man fought
before, ever against overwhelming
odds and even the irony Of fate it
self Perhaps he was one of that dis
consulate band that tramped the weary
miles to the south OF Appomattax; or,
mayhap he fell before the belching
batteries that frowned down from the
heights OF Gettysburg torn and bleed
ing, yet with triumphant smile as
he realized that to him there had come
a commission in the eternal army OF
the God of Hosts See this warrior
before us lie.
"He leans upon his hand-his
manly brow consents to death, but
conquers agony, and his dropped
head sinks gradually low-and
through his side the last drops, ebb
ing slow-like from the red cash,
fall heavy, one by one, like the first
Of thunder shower; and now the
landscapes swims around hin-he is
gone"
Today he sleeps his last sleep on
some little hill side in quiet secluded
spot and no sound could awake him to
glory again. Yea, he sleeps. But he
shall not be forgotten till the sun
} grows cold, and the stars grow old,
and the leaves of the judgment book
unfold
The world has never seen finer
fighting men than our own ragged
rebels. There were combined in them
the "clan" of the Frenchman the
logged obstinacy of the Englishman,
the careless gaiety of the Italian and
the accomplishing fortitude of the
Greek How cheerfully they bore
hunger and thirst and heat and cold
and all kinds of wretchedness, yet how
magnihcently they moved forward un-
der the storm of shot and shell! The
Confederates considered that fight a
mere skirmish in which they did not
lose at least a fourth Of their numbers.
European warfare had been but child's
play as compared with that waged by
the dauntless sons of Dixie. Robert
E.. Lee said to an English visitor i'll
his tent, 81 am ashamed for strangers
to see my ragged, barefoot boys in
camp, but l would be proud for all
the world to see them on the field of
battle"
We could spend days recounting the
exploits of these men led and encour-
aged by their matchless leaders. The
English say that Lee is the greatest
general the Anglo-Saxon race has pro-
duced since the Duke of Marlborough.
The pages of history even when writ
ten by foes of the south are strong
in their praise of the magnificent
Shenandoah Valley campaigns of Jack
son. We can never forget the gallant
Stuart who rode into battle ever in
front of his men and in the thickest
of the fight, with his black plume
waving in the breezes, and his ringing
voice singing out above the roar of
cannonSand musketry, "Old Joe Hook
er won't you come out the wilder
ness?" We could forever sing of the
deeds of the two Johnstons, Beaure-
gard, Gordon, Walker, Longstreet
Dan Morgan, Hill and Wheeler and
scores of others.
These names are sacred to everey
southern heart, and our hearts beat
loud with pride as we reflect that they
were sons of our own fair southland
A. Al. r. a..