will cry against you out of the ground—Cain! where is
thy brother? Now in war you bring together 50,000 men
like him on one side, and 50,000 of a different nation on
the other. They have no natural quarrel with one another.
The earth is wide enough for both ; neither hinders the
sun from the other. Many come unwillingly; many not
knowing what they fight for. It is but accident that determines on which side the man shall fight. The cannons
pour their shot—round, grape, canister; the howitzers
scatter their bursting shells; the muskets rain their leaden death; the sword, the bayonet, the horse's iron hoof, the wheels of the artillery, grind the men down into trodden dust. There they lie, the two masses of burning valour, extinguished, quenched, and grimly dead, each covering with his body the spot he defended with his arms. They had no quarrel : yet they lie there, slain by a brother's hand. It is not old and decrepid men, but men of the productive age, full of lusty life.
But it is only the smallest part that perish in battle. Exposure to cold, wet, heat; unhealthy climates, unwholesome food, rum, and forced marches, bring on diseases which mow down the poor soldiers worse than musketry and grape. Others languish of wounds, and slowly procrastinate a dreadful and a tenfold death. Far away, there are widows, orphans, childless old fathers, who pore over the daily news to learn at random the fate of a son, a father, or a husband! They crowd disconsolate into the churches, seeking of God the comfort men took from them, praying in the bitterness of a broken heart, while the priest gives thanks for "a famous victory," and hangs up the bloody standard over his pulpit!
When ordinary disease cuts off a man, when he dies at his duty, there is some comfort in that loss. "It was the ordinance of God," you say. You minister to his wants; you smooth down the pillow for the aching head; your love beguiles the torment of disease, and your own bosom gathers half the darts of death. He goes in his time, and God takes him. But when he dies in such a war, in battle, it is man who has robbed him of life. It is a murderer that is butchered. Nothing alleviates that bitter, burning smart!
Others not slain are maimed for life. This has no eyes;
