USA > Illinois > Complete history of the 46th regiment, Illinois volunteer infantry, a full and authentic account of the participation of the regiment in the battles, sieges, skirmishes and expeditions in which it was engaged > Part 28
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The bugle's blast and the drum's quick beat,
The clatter of hoofs in the stony street,
The cheers of people who came to greet,
And the thousand details that to repeat
Would only my verse encumber- Till I fell in a reverie sad and sweet,
And then to a beautiful slumber. When, lo! in a vision I seemed to stand In the lonely Capitol ! on each hand Far stretched the portico; dim and grand, Its columns ranged like a martial band Of sheeted specters whom some command Had called to a last reviewing. The streets of the city were white and bare,
No footfall echoed across the square; But out of the misty mountain air I heard in the distance a trumpet blare,
And the wandering night wind seemed to bear The sound of a far tattooing. And I saw a phantom army come,
With never an arch save the vaultless
But keeping step to a muffled hum
Of wailing and lamentation : The martyred heroes of Malvern Hill, Of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville. The men whose wasted bodies fill The patriot graves of the Nation. An there came the unknown, the men Who died in fever swamp and fen, The slowly starved of the prison pen ; And. marching beside the others. Came the dusky martyrs of Pillow's fight.
With limbs enfranchised and bearing bright;
I thought-perhaps 'twas the pale moonlight- They looked as white as their brothers.
251
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
And so all night marched the Nations's dead, With never a banner above them spread Nor a badge nor a motto brandished ; No mark-save the bare, uncovered head Of the silent, grim Reviewer ; With never an arch save the vaultless sky; . With never a flower save those which lie On the distant graves-for love could buy No gift that was purer or truer. So all night long swept the strange array, So all night long till the morning gray, I watched for one who had passed away, With a reverent awe and wonder- Till a blue cap waved in the lengthening line, And I knew that one who was kin of mine Had come; and I spoke-and, lo! that sign Awakened me from my slumber.
COVER THEM OVER.
(By Carleton.)
Cover them over with beautiful flowers; Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours; Lying so silent, by night and by day, Sleeping the years of their manhood away; Years they must waste in the sloth of the grave. All the bright laurels that promise to bloom Fell to the earth when they went to the tomb. Give them the meed they have won in the past; Give them the honors their merits forecast; Give them the chaplets they won in the strife; Give them the laurels they lost with their life. Cover them over-yes, cover them over ---- Parent, and husband, and brother and lover; Crown in your heart these dead heroes of ours, And cover them over with beautiful flowers ! Cover the thousands who sleep far away- Sleep where their friends cannot find them to-day ; They who in mountain and hillside and dell Rest where they wearied, and lie where they fell. Softly the grassblade creeps round their repose, Sweetly above them the wild flower blows; Zephyrs of freedom fly gently o'erhead, Whispering names for the patriot dead. So in our minds we will name them once more, So in our hearts we will cover them o'er ; Roses and lilies and violets blue, Bloom in our souls for the brave and the true. Cover them over-yes, cover them over- Parent, and husband, and brother, and lover ;
:
252
HISTORY OF FORTY-SIXTH REGIMENT
Think of those far-away heroes of ours, And cover them over with beautiful flowers! When the long years have crept slowly away, E'en to the dawn of earth's funeral day ; When at the archangel's trumpet and tread, Rise up the faces and forms of the dead ; When the great world its last judgment awaits; When the blue sky shall swing open its gates, And our long columns march silently thru, Past the Great Captain, for final review ; Then for the blood that has flown for the right, Crowns shall be given, untarnished and bright ; Then the glad ear of each war-martyred son Proudly shall hear the good judgment, "Well done." Blessings for garlands shall cover them over- Parent, and husband. and brother, and lover ; God will reward those dead heroes of ours, And cover them over with beautiful flowers!
WAR.
We wait beneath the furnace blast The pangs of transformation ; Not painlessly doth God recast And mold anew the Nation. Hot burns the fire Where wrongs expire; Nor spares the hand That from the land Uproots the ancient evil.
The hand-breadth cloud the sages feared Its bloody rain is dropping ; The poison plant the fathers spared All else is overtopping. East. West, South. North, It curses the earth : All justice dies, And fraud and lies Live only in its shadow.
Then let the selfish lip be dumb, And hushed the breath of sighing ; Before the joy of peace must come The pains of purifying. God give us grace Each in his place To bear his lot, And, murmering not, Endure and wait and labor !
-Whittier.
253
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
THE BIVOUAC OF THE BLUE.
(By T. C. Harbaugh.)
There's a sound among the pine trees In the battle-haunted glade, And a bird her mate is calling Where the fiercest charge was made, And a river fair is flowing 'Neath the bivouac of the true, And the wind is gently blowing Thru the old camps of the Blue.
Yonder stalks a ghostly sentry, Ah, you cannot hear his tread, For his beat but dimly stretches Thru the long aisles of the dead, And a single drum seems beating Where the old ranks used to form, And a thousand wait the signal For the bursting of the storm.
On a hilltop floats a banner Gaily out against the sun, And the light glints fiercely, bravely, On the silent brazen gun ; There are violets in the valley, And the clover fields are red, And the squadron brave. retreating, Leaves behind a line of dead.
'Tis a dream! To-day are falling Bud and blossom for the true, And the wreathlet and the chaplet Lie upon the breasts of blue ; From the mountain to the river, From the river to the plain, 'Neath the drooped and bordered banner Come the marchers once again.
And a thinned and silvered remnant Of the ranks that long ago In the thickest of the battle Sought in youth the eager foe, Bent, and proud and noble daring Step again behind the drum, And to comrades 'neath the cedars Say with faithful lips, "We come."
With the blossoms of the meadows, With the bloom that flecks the wold, With the roses in their beauty And the lily's heart of gold, Down the street they bear their off'rings, Wet with Heaven's star-kissed dew, And the winds of night will stir them On the bosoms of the Blue.
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17
254
HISTORY OF FORTY-SIXTH REGIMENT
Aye, from every mart and hamlet, Aye, from every loyal home, Come the blossoms for the heroes, Who once fought on land and foam; Peace and Love unite to crown them Over all the land to-day, And upon each mould'ring bosom . Fall the treasured bloom of May.
Let the wild war drum be muffled, Let the silent tear be shed, While Columbia crowns her children In the bivouac of the dead ; There's a rose for every hero, There's a wreath for all to-day. .
And the Nation's love grows stronger 'Neath the bended skies of May.
-- Casstown, O.
SOMEBODY'S PRIDE.
(By Clement Scott.)
Plume on the helmet, and sword to the shoulder, Sound the advance! Never call the retreat ! Some are as fair, not a man can look bolder, Reigning his charger, to ride down the street. Up with the windows. the regiment passes, Glory will cover the old colors that droop; Love lights the eyes and the lips of the lassies, Somebody nods to the Pride of the Troop.
Dust on his helmet, and sword that is broken ; Sound the recall to the scattering men ; Victory wavers, with death for its token ; Hundreds return to us. Where are the ten? Lone in a chamber a maiden is weeping- Eyes that have sparkled with sorrow can droop; Dead on the battlefield heroes are sleeping- Somebody prays for the Pride of the Troop.
Laurel on helmet, a sword that is rusted, Gather the women and marshal the men ! Honor is due to the soldiers we trusted Cheer for the hundred, but weep for the ten ! Out from the crowd a young maiden is lifted, Lifted on shoulders that gallantly stoop; Tears are forgotten, and sorrow has drifted, Somebody kisses the Pride of the Troop!
255
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
DECORATION DAY.
(By Susie M. Best.)
Here is a lily and here is a rose, And here is a heliotrope, And here is the woodbine sweet that grows .On the garden's sunny slope.
Here is a bit of mignonette, And here is a geranium red,
A pansy bloom and a violet I found in a inossy bed.
These are the flowers I love the best, And I've brought them all to lay
With loving hands where soldiers rest, On Decoration Day.
THE NATIONAL CEMETERIES.
The Number of Interments in Each Up to the Close of the Last Fiscal Year.
War Department, Office of the Quartermaster-General, Washington, D. C., July 1, 1906.
List of National Cemeteries, showing the number of interments in each, June 30, 1906:
Interments.
Name of Cemetery.
Known
Unknown
Total
Alexandria, La.
551
772
1,323
Alexandria, Va.
3,427
124
3.551
Andersonville, Ga.
12,794
925
13,719
Annapolis, Md
2.304
204
2.503
Antietam, Md.
2,921
1,830
4,751
Arlington, Va ..
15,751
4,625
20,376
Balls Bluff, Va.
1
24
25
Barrancas, Fla ..
920
710
1,630
Baton Rouge, La.
2,559
532
3,091
Battle Ground. D. C.,
43
43
Beaufort, S. C.
4,862
4,5-44
9,406
Beverly, N. J ..
181
7
188
Brownsville, Tex.
1,480
1,379
2,859
Camp Butler. Ill.
1,013
356
1,369
Camp Nelson. Ky
2,464
1,189
3.653
Cave Hill, Ky.
3,760
582
4,342
Chalmette, La.
7.159
5,745
12,904
Chattanooga, Tenn
8,439
4,970
13,409
City Point, Va.
3,780
1,379
5,159
ยท
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HISTORY OF FORTY-SIXTH REGIMENT
Cold Harbor, Va.
672
1,290
1,962
Corinth, Miss ..
1,794
3,936
5,730
Crown Hill, Ind.
953
33
986
Culpepper, Va.
463
912
1,375
Custer Battlefield, Mont.
983
244
1,227
Cypress Hills, N. Y.
6,129
381
6,510
Danville, Ky
349
8
357
Danville, Va
1,175
156
1,331
Fayetteville, Ark.
482
782
1,264
Finns Point, N. J.
113
2,539
2,652
Florence, S. C ..
209
2,801
3,010
Fort Donelson, Tenn
163
512
675
Fort Gibson, I. T.
257
2,212
2,469
Fort Harrison, Va ....
243
575
818
Fort Leavenworth, Kans.
1,941
1,549
3,490
Fort McPherson, Neb.
478
353
831
Fort Scott, Kans.
631
125
759
Fort Smith, Ark.
869
1,485
2,354
Fredericksburg, Va
2,508 12,802
15,310
Glendale, Va.
238
. 969
1,207
Grafton, W. Va
643
620
1,266
Hampton, Va ..
8,914
600
9,514
Jefferson Barracks, Mo
9,172
2,932
12,104
Jefferson City, Mo
401
411
812
Keokuk, Iowa.
725
43
768
Knoxsville, Tenn.
2,311
1,067
3,378
Lebanon, Ky.
596
277
873
Lexington, Ky.
840
112
952
Little Rock, Ark.
3,474
2,370
5,844
Loudon Park, Md.
2,993
381
3,374
Marietta, Ga.
7,386
2,978
10.364
Memphis. Tenn.
5,206
9,017
14.223
Mexico City, Mex.
765
750
1.515
Mill Springs, Ky
354
368
722
Mobile, Ala.
843
229
1,072
Mound City. 111
2,632
2,732
5.364
Nashville, Tenn
11.972
4,711
16,683
Natchez, Miss.
471
2,780
3,251
New Albany, Ind
2,319
676
2,995
Newbern. N. C.
2,259
1,100
3,359
Philadelphia, Pa.
2,712
188
2.900
Poplar Grove, Va.
2,200
4,012
6,212
Port Hudson, La.
600
3,239
3,839
Quincy, Ill.
230
57
287
Raleigh, N. C.
639
572
1,211
Richmond, Va.
871
5,700
6,571
Rock Island, Ill.
290
20
310
Salisbury. N. C.
112 12,035
12,147
San Antonio, Tex
1,289
284
1,573
San Francisco, Cal
4,844
467
5,311
Santa Fe, N. M.
394
442
836
Seven Pines, Va.
163
1,225
1,388
Shiloh, Tenn.
1,240
2,377
3,617
Gettysburg. Pa.
2,005
1.631
3,636
257
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
Soldiers' Home, D. C ..
6,802
291
7,093
Springfield, Mo ..
1,029
740
1,769
St. Augustine, Fla
1,696
73
1,769
Staunton, Va ..
237
527
764
Stone River, Tenn.
3,819
2,333
6,152
Vicksburg, Miss.
4,094 12,769
16,863
Wilmington, N. C.
749
1,577
2,326
Winchester, Va.
2,102
2,387
4,489
Woodlawn, N. Y
3,068
7
3,075
Yorktown, Va.
756
1,435
2,191
Total. 201,282 152,103 353,385
Of these interments about 9,300 are those of Confederates, being mainly in the National Cemeteries at Camp Butler, Cypress Hills, Finns Point, Fort Smith, Hampton, Jefferson Barracks and Woodlawn.
APPOMATTOX.
To peace-white ashes sink war's lurid flame, The drums had ceased to growl, and died away The bark of guns, where fronting armies lay, And for the day the dogs of war were tame, And resting on the field of bloodbought fame,
For conquered peace o'er horrid war held sway
On her won field, a score of years to-day,
Where to her champion forth a white flag came.
O, Nation's chief ; thine eyes have seen again A whiter flag come forth to summon thee Than that pale scarf which gleamed above war's stain To parley o'er the end of its red reign --- The truce of God that sets from battle free
Thy dauntless soul and thy worn life from pain.
THE PASSING OF THE VETERAN.
(By J. E. Gilman.)
The years roll by. Time swiftly wings its flight, We're growing old.
The wintry blast has touched us with its blight, We're growing old. Our eyes are dimmed, our ears refuse to hear, Our faltering steps proclaim the end is near.
It was not thus when treason raised its head. Then we were young. When strong men paled and all was doubt and dread, Then we were young. At Lincoln's call we fought for liberty. A land we saved, a people we set free.
F
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HISTORY OF FORTY-SIXTH REGIMENT
We murmur not at our advancing age, Thy will be done ; We've played our part; we're passing off the stage, Thy will be done. We wrought for God, for country and for right, We've born our cross. O. may our crown be bright.
Close his eyes, his work is done! What to him is friend or foeman ! Rise of moon, or set of sun, Hand of man, or kiss of woman ? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow ! What cares he? he cannot know Lay him low.
As man may, he fought his fight, Proved his truth by his endeavor ; Let him sleep in solemn night, Sleep forever and forever. Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow ! What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low !
Fold him in his country's stars, Roll the drum and fire the volley ! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking folly ? Lay him low, etc .--
Leave him to God's watching eye, Trust him to the hand that made him. Mortal love weeps idly by : God alone has power to aid him. Lay him low. etc .--
MAY 30.
(By Harry J. Shellman.)
Hang out the flag, the dear old flag, upon the outer wall. I hear again the fife's shrill notes. the bugle's mellow call. Once more the veterans fill the ranks. in files not serried tho, As when they marched into the South some 40 years ago. I hear the sound of marching men, the tramp of myriad feet, The steady footfalls echo all along the paved street. They follow where "Old Glory" leads, with solemn step and slow, Not light and springy as they marched some forty years ago. Year after year they fewer grow, their ranks are thinning fast
And more graves dot the hillside slopes as every May goes past, And gray heads nod along the line where dark hair used to grow
4
259
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
When marching down in Dixie's Land some 40 years ago.
I
seem. to view again the scenes when men went marching forth ;
I seem to see again the grand uprising of the North; I hear again the echoing cheer, the plaudits of the crowd, And see the boys march to the front with valiant mien and proud. I see the father's brief farewell, the mother's fond embrace; I note the lover's sad good-by, the lorn wife's tear-stained face; The children's half bewildered look so suited to their years,
When tin'sel and display so ill seem cause for mother's tears.
I hear the ringing cheers for those who're marching forth to meet Honor and fame and victory, perchance death or defeat. Some went to meet a shattered life. with valiant hearts and brave, And some like those who march to-day, were marching toward the grave. I seem to see again arise the clouds of sulphurous smoke ;
I hear again the clanging hoofs, the saber's vigorous stroke; I hear the p-i-n-g of minie balls, the cannon's loud-mouthed roar, The clash of steel, the human yells. the fiery hate of war. I see the bloody pictures made upon a landscape green ; I see the comrades' parched lips wet from the same canteen : I see men die for other men; I see the true and brave Form comradeship and brotherhood that lasts beyond the grave. I hear again the battle cry that rang at Malvern Hill, The cheer that rose at Round Top, the shout at Chancellorsville; I see again the sailor men sweep up through Mobile Bay ; I see the sights on Lookout Heights and Allatoona's fray. I see the famous seaward march; I see the bummer's foray ; I see the mine at Petersburg burst up with columns gory. The panorama passes on, with shriek and yell and rattle, The pandemonium and din and carnage of the battie, Now all goes calmer once again, and Johnnies homeward march, And flags are waved, and cheers are given, and towns their highways arch. Sweet peace smiles on the land once more, but many sad tears flow For those who stayed in Dixie's Land some 40 years ago. The panorama's passed away ; the years have sped along ;
I hear again the tramping feet, the murmur of the throng. "fis not a gala day parade. nor yet a martial show,
As when they marched to Dixie's Land some 40 years ago. Hang out the flag, the dear old flag, upon the outer wall When sounds again the shrill-toned fife, the bugle's mellow call. Once more the veterans fill the ranks and tramp with footsteps slow To honor dead who tramped with them some 40 years ago. They hide no liatred in their hearts for those who wore the gray, But comradeship of bygone years will bind brave hearts for aye. With those who struggled side by side fraternal love must grow
As ranks grow thin of those who marched some 40 years ago.
THE SLEEPING SOLDIERS.
(By Arthur J. Burdick.)
Some sleep 'neath the soft Summer sun of the South, Where the flowers never fail and the vine never springs; Where the air bears perfume and the echoes repeat The rapturous song that the mocking-bird sings.
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HISTORY OF FORTY-SIXTH REGIMENT
Some rest mid the vales and the hills of the North
Where the pine and the hemlock stretch sheltering arms; Where the warring winds pipe in the treetops as loud As the bugle once sounded its brazen alarms.
Some wait the last trumpet 'neath pepper and palm; Some lie in the lowlands and some on the hill; Some sleep in the billowy arms of the sea,
And in far. distant islands some lonely graves fill.
Wherever they lie, North or South, East or West, We have garlands to-day for these brave sons of ours. Our hearts give them love, our lips offer praise, And our hands strew their graves with beautiful flowers.
Ah, rough were the roads that were yours in the march, And fiery and bloody the paths that ye trod,
But peaceful and quiet and flowery the way Henceforth till earth's heroes are summoned to God.
WE'LL MARCH IN GRAND REVIEW.
(By P. F. Zeise, 4th W. Va., Middleport, O.)
Well, boys, it's up to you'ens all to say what should be done 'Bout marchin' on Encampment days and brilin' in the sun. Some say we're lame and tottering now and don't look well in line, But you jest bet your last five cent piece I take none o' that in mine.
I kin march as good as ever, p'raps not quite so long nor fast, As we used when huntin' "Johnnies" in them way back days 'ets past ;
But when I hear the bass drum snort and the soul-inspirin' fife I'll wobble into ranks, "by gum," and march to beat yer life.
I em bound to play the soldier. jest as long es I'm alive, And when in line I'm back agin to sixty-one and five,
And I'm jest as young as ever then, my heart's as glad an' light, Ef my steps hain't quite so stiddy and my hair hez all turned white.
Hit does my ol' frame lots o' good to dress up to my "Com," And start my left foot foremost when I hear the big bass drum; And while I'm marchin' down the street, my feelin's rise sublime, And w-a-y off I hear 'em shoutin' when they break the rebel line.
Oh. yes; we're gettin' older. Of course, that's what they say ; But we gits a trifle younger when et comes reviewin' day ; And don't furget we'll be thar, jest like when we freed the slave, And there's nothin' here kin stop us, exceptin' hits the grave.
There hain't no use expoundin' uv the ills that vex us now, 'Bout rheumatiz and failin' sight, bent forms and "frostypow ;" You air still one of the "boys," you know, that had the vim and grit To come when "Uncle Abram called," and I guess you've got some yit.
261
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
S'pose we "brother up" in ranks once more, and hev another tramp, And 'magine we're in Dixie Land and marchin' into camp;
Don't let nothin' ever hinder you, fur et makes our ole hearts swell When they holler that we're comin' and the crowd begins to yell.
And the darlin' little children, with their flutterin' hearts and flags, Air wild with joy to see you-some's in silks and some's in rags- But that doesn't make no diff'runce to nether me nor you;
When we see 'em wave "Old Glory," why, we know their hearts is true.
Strike out all this contendin' and a-chawin' of the rag, 'Bout marchin' on Encampment days behind the good ole flag That you fetched from down in Dixie, and they always helt so dear ; We soon shall cross life's Rubicon to reach a higher sphere.
And when we're all assembled there together-"Gray and Blue"- We'll form the column all in one, and march in Grand Review Before the Throne, while angel songs our souls with rapture swell, And salute the benediction, "Thou hast done thy duty well."
Take back the tattered banners From the laughing light of day, In the twilight and the silence Lay them tenderly away ; You have blest them thro' the years, You have kissed them with your tears, You have rushed with them to glory In a rhapsody of cheers.
Where their rainbow-beauty beckoned You have followed, you have stood, When the blood of brothers eddied At your feet, a purple flood- In the dreadful days agone, You have borne them on and on, Till the night of carnage ended In the splendor of the dawn.
Every star upon those banners Is a blazing diadem, Set there by Freedom's fingers When she consecrated them In a holocaust of strife, As she panted for her life, Midst the thunder and the tumult Of the trumpet, drum, and fife.
Every broken, battered staff Over which your flags are furled, Was a crutch the Nation leaned on As she watched the doubting world. Proud in all her queenly splendour, Yet with loving heart and tender, Waiting for each holy promise Which the God of right might send her.
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HISTORY OF FORTY-SIXTH REGIMENT
Take back the tattered banners- And let not a tear drop gleam As you yield them to the ages That are moving, like a dream, Down the long and lighted way, To the glad and golden day, Which your valor purchased for them, In the old, historic fray.
Take back the tattered banners; Let their sisterhood of stars Light the inner shrines of Freedom, Till Eternity unbars The fields of Asphodel, Where the martyred heroes dwell, And the symphonies seraphic In unending chorus swell. -James Newton Mathews.
THE MAJOR'S DECORATION DAY.
"Raise my pillow higher, Mary, Open wide the window ; there, Now I feel the blessed sunshine, Now I breathe the sweet May air ; See the pink-white apple blossoms, Drifting lightly o'er the sod, Where our soldier-boy lies sleeping. Where the bright-eyed daisies nod.
Born a soldier's son, my Mary, He has heard the Cuban's cry, He has fought a soldier's battles, He has died as soldiers die. Bring his sword and mine. together Lay them here across my bed. Garland them with ferns and lilies, Roses white and roses red.
Hark! the muffled drums are beating Funeral measures deep and low : See, my brave old comrades coming ; In their ranks one year ago. I was marching with them. Mary. To the silent camp where sleep Fallen comrades. while above them Sentry shafts their lone watch keep.
Lift me higher, I would see them, And the dear old flag they bear : Next year when they bring their garlands I'll be camping over there.
ILLINOIS VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
263
Find my epaulets, dear Mary, Let the major wear his straps ! Bless my soul ! Believe they see me ! Yes-why-see! they've doffed their caps !
No, that ain't a tear-drop. Mary, Just the sweat rolled from my brow. , Seems-as if the room-grows closer- Can't see you so well-somehow ! But I hear them singing -- yonder, And the low beat of the drum -- "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, Cheer-up-comrades, they -- will come."
Now his quavering voice is humming That old war song once again ; Now, his fancy seems to wander, He is riding with his men Down the hill to meet the charges Of the daring, dashing foe. Silence : now the white lips murmur- "Roll-call! Mary-I-must-go!"
LILLIAN BARKER BEEDE, Ames, Iowa.
MEMORIAL DAY, 1888.
(Veterans in line, 30,500; graves decorated, 34,778 .-- Report of De- partment of Ohio. G. A. R., for May 30, 1887.)
BY KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD. Comrades and brothers, soon shall we all Join the majority.
Those who went up from Bull Run, In the first throes of rebellion ; Those who went up from Antietam ; Up from the Wilderness, Marye's Hights, Chancellorsville; Those who went up from Cold Harbor, The dire Chickahominy swamps. and from Richmond ; Up from the Petersburg mines and from Gettysburg ; Those who gave sign for sign, signal for signal, Heroes and patriots, aye, and our kinsmen.
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