The establishment and perpetuity of our Union have been secured by the sacrifices of war. The Declaration of Independence preceded seven weary years of conflict, whose culminating sufferings were experienced in the British prison ships and in the winter camp at Valley Forge. In this contest the patriotic soldiers of the north and of the south made common cause, and what they did and what they suffered indicates a measure of the enduring worth of our national life. The story of revolutionary days finds an enlarged counterpart in the sufferings of the civil war. A phase of the great struggle is recalled in the following narrative of events, which belongs to a rapidly receding past. Soon no survivor will be left to tell the tale; hence the desirability of putting it into permanent form before it fades altogether from recollection. To some the story of the breaking out of Providence Spring may seem to have been given undue prominence in this record; but it is around that event that these reminiscences gather, and the circumstances attending were so indelibly stamped upon the memory of the writer that they call for expression. Probably he was the youngest of the group of Andersonville prisoners who participated in the concert of prayer that preceded the unsealing of the fountain, and on that account he may be the only survivor. In the course of the narrative unpleasant things have been referred to in the interests of truth, but nothing has been set down in malice. The Great Healer has closed up many wounds of hearts as well as of bodies, and the grass has grown green over the graves of buried controversies. The boys in gray and the boys in blue now fraternize around common campfires and under a common flag. But while the writer has none save the kindliest feelings toward his brothers of the lost cause, he cannot help rejoicing that alike in the clash of arms, and in the more peaceful conflict of ideas which has followed, the principles for which he and others bled and suffered have gained the victory and are among the things which never perish from the earth.
“We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi’s winding stream and from New England’s shore.
We leave our plows and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear;
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before—
We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand more.
“If you look across the hilltops that meet the northern sky,
Long lines of moving dust your vision may descry;
And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside,
And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride;
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour—
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more.
“If you look up all our valleys, where growing harvests shine,
You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line;
And children, from their mothers’ knees, are pulling at the weeds,
And learning how to reap and sow, against their country’s needs;
A farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door—
We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand more.” |
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