The Confederate Soldier By H. W. GRADY Henry Woodfin Grady (1851-1889): An American journalist and orator. He is best known by several addresses describing the condition of the South during and since the war between the states. This selection is from "The New South," an address delivered in New York at the banquet of the New England Society, December 21, 1886. The speaker has drawn for you of the North, with a master's hand, the picture of your returning armies. He has told you how, in the pomp and circumstance of war, they came back to you, marching with proud and victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes! Will 5 you bear with me while I tell you of another army that sought its home at the close of the late war— an army that marched home in defeat and not in victory, in pathos and not in splendor, but in glory that equaled yours, and to hearts as loving as ever welcomed heroes home? Let 10 me picture to you the footsore Confederate soldier, as, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket the parole which was to bear testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith, he turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of him as ragged, half-starved, heavy- 15 hearted, enfeebled by want and wounds; having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in silence, and, lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins 20 the slow and painful journey. What does he find — let me ask you who went to your homes eager to find in the welcome you had justly earned full payment for four years' sacrifice- what does he find when, having followed the battle-stained cross against overwhelming odds, dreading death not half so much as surrender, he reaches the home he left so prosperous and beautiful? He finds his 5 house in ruins; his farm devastated; his slaves free; his stock killed; his barns empty; his trade destroyed; his money worthless; his social system, feudal in its magnificence, swept away; his people without law or legal status; his comrades slain; and the burdens of 10 others heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very traditions are gone; without money, credit, employment, material, or training; and beside all this, confronted with the gravest problem that ever met human intelligence -the establishing of a status for the vast body of his lib15 erated slaves. What does he do, this hero in gray with a heart of gold? Does he sit down in sullenness and despair? Not for a day. Surely God, who had stripped him of his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruin 20 was never before so overwhelming, never was restoration swifter. The soldier stepped from the trenches into the furrow; horses that had charged Federal guns marched before the plow; and fields that ran red with human blood in April were green with the harvest 25 in June. Never was nobler duty confided to human hands than the uplifting and upbuilding of the prostrate and bleeding South, misguided, perhaps, but beautiful in her suffering; and honest, brave, and generous always. In the record of her social, industrial, and 30 political evolution we await with confidence the verdict of the world. The speaker: Dr. Thomas De Witt Talmage, a distinguished clergyman and lecturer, whose speech had preceded Grady's. På rōle': promise upon one's faith and honor to fulfill stated conditions, as not to bear arms against one's captors, or the like. Děv'as tāt ĕd: laid waste. Feu'dal: like the feudal system of the Middle Ages, by which a vassal or tenant held land, giving service to his superior and receiving service from his inferior. Sta'tus: state; position. My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. The hills of the Highlands forever I love 5 10 5 Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow; Strǎths: a Scotch name for river valleys. An Escape from the Press Gang BY THOMAS HARDY Thomas Hardy (1840): An English novelist and architect. He has written "Far from the Madding Crowd," "The Trumpet Major," and other novels. This selection is from "The Trumpet Major." The scene is laid in England in 1805 — when England was at war with France, and was in daily expectation of a descent upon the coast by Napoleon. The English coasts were well guarded by the navy, and seamen on shore were all liable to be impressed for service. Bob Loveday, the sailor son of Miller Loveday, had given up the sea and was helping his father at the mill. One night he returned to the mill with his half-sister, Anne Garland, from a visit to the theater at the neighboring seaport of Weymouth, where they had heard that a press gang belonging to a frigate called the Black Diamond was on shore looking for hands. I Having reached the privacy of her own room, Anne 10 threw open the window, for she had not the slightest intention of going to bed just yet. The tale of the Black Diamond had disturbed her by a slow, insidious process that was worse than sudden fright. Her window looked into the court before the house, now wrapped in the shadow of the trees and the hill; and she leaned upon. its sill, listening intently. She could have heard any 5 strange sound distinctly enough in one direction, but in the other all low noises were absorbed in the patter of the mill and the rush of water down the race. However, what she heard came from the hitherto silent side, and was intelligible in a moment as being the foot-10 steps of men. She tried to think they were some late stragglers from Weymouth. Alas! no; the tramp was too regular for that of villagers. She hastily turned, extinguished the candle, and listened again. As they were on the main road, there was, after all, every prob- 15 ability that the party would pass the bridge which gave access to the mill court without turning in upon it or even noticing that such an entrance existed. In this again she was disappointed; they crossed into the front without a pause. One of the men spoke. "I am not sure that we 20 are in the right place," he said. “This is a mill, anyhow," said another. "There's lots about here." "Then come this way a moment with your light." Two of the group went toward the cart house on the 25 opposite side of the yard, and, when they reached it, a dark lantern was opened, the rays being directed upon the front of the miller's wagon. "Loveday and Son, Overcombe Mill!" continued the man, reading from the wagon. "Son,' you see, is lately 30 painted in. That's our man." |