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015 - Appendix D - A Memorial Day Meditation · Prison Life in Andersonville

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  Speaker 1: Appendix D of Prison Life in Andersonville by John Levi Miley.
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  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
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  Speaker 1: Jeffrey Smith, New Orleans, Louisiana. A Memorial Day meditation by
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  Speaker 1: Reverend H. H. Proctor d D. Of Atlanta, Georgia in
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  Speaker 1: the Congregationalist of May two, nineteen o five. The thirtieth
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  Speaker 1: of May is sacred to the nation. With its return,
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  Speaker 1: the heart of the country instinctively turns to those eighty
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  Speaker 1: three national cemeteries, mostly on southern soil, wherein one hundred
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  Speaker 1: ninety four thousand, four hundred ninety two known and one
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  Speaker 1: hundred fifty one thousand, seven hundred ten unknown graves lie
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  Speaker 1: three hundred forty six thousand, two hundred two men who
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  Speaker 1: fell fighting for the flag, And in all the land,
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  Speaker 1: fittingly enough, there are no spots more beautiful than these.
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  Speaker 1: For their care and improvement, the national government spends one
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  Speaker 1: hundred thousand dollars a year. The cemetery at Andersonville, Georgia
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  Speaker 1: gains additional interest in view of the famous prison connected
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  Speaker 1: with it. Of these I wish to speak. No one
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  Speaker 1: can spend a day there as I did lately without
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  Speaker 1: drinking deep of the patriotic spirit. The very ground on
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  Speaker 1: which you stand seems holy when you think how brave
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  Speaker 1: men suffered and died there. The very air seems charged
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  Speaker 1: with their spirit. Still, some disappointment is felt when, over
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  Speaker 1: one hundred miles south of Atlanta, you get off at
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  Speaker 1: a little station with a few straggling houses here and there,
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  Speaker 1: but in the distance a mile away, the national flag,
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  Speaker 1: waving invitingly, bids reassurance. At length you stand at the
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  Speaker 1: entrance of the cemetery. Entering through the strong iron gates
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  Speaker 1: of the thick, ivy covered brick wall, twelve thousand, seven
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  Speaker 1: hundred eighty two known and nine hundred twenty three unknown
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  Speaker 1: men are buried within many things at once interest you.
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  Speaker 1: Walks lead to every part of the grounds, trees, shrubbery,
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  Speaker 1: and flowers. In enhance the natural beauty of the place.
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  Speaker 1: Feathered songers of the South chant daily requiems. Each grave
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  Speaker 1: is marked by a white marble headstone, on which is
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  Speaker 1: generally carved the number, rank, name, and state of the
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  Speaker 1: dead soldier. Here and there we read the sad inscription unknown.
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  Speaker 1: The white stones, contrasting with the fine green sword under
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  Speaker 1: the soft southern sky, make an impressive scene. This is
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  Speaker 1: especially true in that part of the grounds where stands
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  Speaker 1: the splendid Monument of New Jersey, as shown by the
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  Speaker 1: accompanying illustration. In a convenient place there is located an
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  Speaker 1: octagonal rostrum, where every Memorial day gathers a large concourse
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  Speaker 1: of people to pay homage to the sacred dead. After
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  Speaker 1: the exercises, the most impressive act of all follows. Each grave,
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  Speaker 1: officers or private, white or black, known or unknown, is
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  Speaker 1: decorated with a miniature flag. And what a transformation. Instead
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  Speaker 1: of the monotonous rows of bare white stone, a field
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  Speaker 1: of flags, by the magic of loving remembrance appears. But
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  Speaker 1: as impressive as is this cemetery, more impressive still to
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  Speaker 1: me was the prison. It is only a few rods away,
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  Speaker 1: Its notoriety is universal. Blaine, in his memorable speech in Congress,
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  Speaker 1: immortalized its more than Siberian horrors. Some of the posts
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  Speaker 1: of the old stockade fence. Survivors of that dread prison
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  Speaker 1: will be interested to know still stand there. Within a
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  Speaker 1: space of thirteen acres, fifty two thousand, three hundred forty
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  Speaker 1: five men, the very flower of the Republic were kept
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  Speaker 1: in a pen for thirteen months. They were exposed in
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  Speaker 1: that rude stockade, to the heat in summer and the
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  Speaker 1: cold in winter, to blistering sun and chilling blasts. From
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  Speaker 1: cruelty and exposure, hunger and thirst, disease and dirt, they
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  Speaker 1: died like sheep. Every fourth man died. The story of
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  Speaker 1: Providence Spring is universally familiar. It proves that God is
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  Speaker 1: yet with men as of old. The water's supply for
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  Speaker 1: these thousands in that small space consisted of but one
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  Speaker 1: little brook, which, of course, soon became unspeakably foul. In
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  Speaker 1: their thirst, they cried unto God for water. He who
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  Speaker 1: hears the cry of the raven could not be dumbed
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  Speaker 1: the prayer of the suffering soldier. It was night. Soon
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  Speaker 1: the sky was overcast with clouds. The lightnings flashed, the
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  Speaker 1: thunders rolled, and a great rain came that night. Next morning,
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  Speaker 1: a fountain of living waters sparkled in God's sunshine, near
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  Speaker 1: where the devout soldier had knelt in prayer the night before.
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  Speaker 1: In recognition of God's providential gift, they christened it Providence Spring. Today,
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  Speaker 1: a pavilion of stone erected by the Woman's National Relief
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  Speaker 1: Corps commemorates the spot. Two significant utterances are carved on
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  Speaker 1: marble tablets in the pavilion. On one we read the
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  Speaker 1: words the prisoner's cry of thirst rang up to heaven.
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  Speaker 1: God heard, and with his thunders cleft the earth and
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  Speaker 1: poured forth his sweetest waters, gushing here over the fountain,
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  Speaker 1: which has never ceased from that day to this. Carved
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  Speaker 1: in Georgia marble, are the great words of that great Man,
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  Speaker 1: in whose big soul the nation was born again, with
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  Speaker 1: charity to all and malice toward none. As I stood
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  Speaker 1: by this spot and looked up on the hill, I
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  Speaker 1: felt a new love of country stir within my heart.
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  Speaker 1: I could but say in my heart, I would rather
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  Speaker 1: be a plain American citizen, though black, than a knighted
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  Speaker 1: Roman under Caesar. As we think of that prison, we
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  Speaker 1: are thankful for the cemetery. The prison typifies suffering. The
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  Speaker 1: cemetery is the symbol of peace. Through that gateway of suffering,
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  Speaker 1: our martyrs entered into peace. How typical of the nation.
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  Speaker 1: Through the crucible of suffering it entered into peace. End
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  Speaker 1: of Appendix D