140 lines
7.2 KiB
Plaintext
140 lines
7.2 KiB
Plaintext
By Mark Twain
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It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country
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was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the
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holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands
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playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers
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hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the
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receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a
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fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the
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young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in
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their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters
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and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy
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emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings
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listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the
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deepest deeps of their hearts and which they interrupted at
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the briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears
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running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the
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pasters preached devotion to flag and country and invoked the
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God of Battles, beseeching His aid in our good cause in
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outpouring of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.
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It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half-dozen
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rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast
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doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and
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angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they
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quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.
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Sunday morning - came - the next day the battalions would
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leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers
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were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams -
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visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the
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rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe,
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the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the
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surrender! - then home from the war, bronzed heroes,
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welcomed, adored, submerged in golden proud, happy, and
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envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and
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brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win
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for the flag or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths.
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The service proceeded; a war prayer was said; it was followed
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by an organ burst that with glowing eyes and beating hearts,
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and poured out that tremendous invocation -
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"God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest,
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Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!"
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Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of
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it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language.
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The burden of its supplication was that an ever-merciful and
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benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young
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soldiers and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their
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patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle
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and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make
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them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset;
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help them crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and
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country imperishable honor and glory -
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An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless
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step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his
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long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his
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head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to
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his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to
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ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he
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made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the
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preacher's side and stood there, waiting. With shut lids the
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preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving
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prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in
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fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord
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our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"
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The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -
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which the startled minister did - and took his place. During
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some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn
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eyes in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice
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he said:
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"I come from the Throne - bearing a message from Almighty
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God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the
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stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard
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the prayer of His servant your shepherd and will grant it if
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such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have
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explained to you its import - that is to say, its full
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import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in
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that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -
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except he pause and think.
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"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he
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paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -
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one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of
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Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the
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unspoken. Ponder this - keep it in mind. If you would
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beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent
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you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you
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pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it,
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by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some
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neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by
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it.
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"You have heard your servant's prayer - the uttered part of
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it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other
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part of it - that part which the pastor, and also you in your
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hearts, fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and
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unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these
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words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is
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sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into
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those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When
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you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many
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unmentioned results which follow victory - which must follow
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it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of
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God the Father fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He
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commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!
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"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts,
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go forth to battle - be Thou near them! With them, in
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spirit, we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved
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firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear
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their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to
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cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their
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patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with
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the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to
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lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help
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us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with
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unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with
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their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of
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their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of
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the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken
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in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge
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of the grave and denied it - for our sakes who adore Thee,
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Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their
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bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way
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with their tears, stain the white snow with blood of their
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wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who
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is the Source of Love, and Who is ever-faithful refuge and
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friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with
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humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
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(After a pause) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it,
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speak! The messenger of the Most High waits."
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It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because
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there was no sense in what he said.
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