The past is buried in oblivion.
The mantle of charity has long ago fallen upon those who think
differently from us. We remember no longer wrongs and injustice done us
by anyone on earth. We are willing to forget and forgive those who have
wronged and falsified us. We look up above and beyond all these petty
groveling things and shake hands and forget the past. And while my
imagination is like the weaver's shuttle, playing backward and forward
through these two decades of time, I ask myself, Are these things real?
did they happen? are they being enacted today? or are they the fancies of
the imagination in forgetful reverie? Is it true that I have seen all
these things? that they are real incidents in my life's history? Did
I see those brave and noble countrymen of mine laid low in death and
weltering in their blood? Did I see our country laid waste and in ruins?
Did I see soldiers marching, the earth trembling and jarring beneath
their measured tread? Did I see the ruins of smouldering cities and
deserted homes? Did I see my comrades buried and see the violet and
wild flowers bloom over their graves? Did I see the flag of my country,
that I had followed so long, furled to be no more unfurled forever?
Surely they are but the vagaries of mine own imagination.
Pages:
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362