"The Star of Empire'' 
 
 
 
 
 E 642 
 .D22 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 Copy 1 
 
 By 
 
 
 
 JASPER T. DARLING 
 
 
 Delivered at 
 
 
 Elkhart, Indiana 
 
 
 On 
 
 
 Memorial Day 
 
 
 1911 
 
 
 .-#". 
 
 
 ^J 
 
 
 Under auspices of Indiana National Guard, the G. A. R., 
 
 
 Woman's Relief Corps and kindred bodies. 
 
^^^. 
 
 REPRINTED FROM "TRUTH 
 
<r 
 
 One of the features of the afternoon services was the address by 
 Jasper T. Darling, of Chicago. His talk was pleasing, instructive 
 and eloquent, }he audience being held throughout the address, despite 
 the intense heat of the day. 
 
 Comrades, Men of the National Guard, 
 Ladies and Fellow Citizens: 
 
 Cover them over with beautiful flowers. 
 Deck them with garlands, those broth- 
 ers of ours: . 
 Lying so silent by night and by day, 
 Sleeping the years of their manhood 
 away: 
 
 Year's they had marked for the joys of 
 
 the brave; 
 Year's they must waste in the sloth of 
 
 the grave. 
 All the bright laurels, that promised to 
 
 bloom, 
 Fell to the earth \v'hen they went to the 
 
 tomb. 
 
 Oover the thousands who sleep far 
 
 away — 
 Sleep where their friends cannot find 
 
 them today; 
 They who in mountain and hillside and 
 
 dell 
 Rest where they wearied and lie where 
 
 they fell. 
 
 , Softly the grass-blade creeps 'round 
 
 their repose; 
 S^VKeetly above them the wildftow-ret 
 
 blows; • 
 
 Zephyrs of freedom fly gently o'erhead. 
 Whispering names ot our patriot-dead. 
 
 Bravely the cross of their country they 
 
 bore, 
 Words of devotion they wrote with their 
 
 gore; 
 Grandlv they grasped for a garland of 
 
 light. 
 Catching the mantle of death-darkened 
 
 night. 
 
 Inspired by sentiments such as 
 these, we have assembled today to of- 
 fer our garlands of love at the shrine 
 where valor sleeps. 
 
 Knightly men and queenly women 
 never forget their dead. They may 
 not hear our songs, they may be in- 
 sensible of our praises, but we shall 
 be exalted as we praise them. 
 
 There has been no day recorded in 
 all the long calendar of time, except 
 the "Holy Sabbath," so reverently ob- 
 served, as our Nation's "Memorial 
 Day." 
 
 And while it has been thus desig- 
 nated and thus safe-guarded by legal 
 enactment, yet, had not a deep and 
 lasting love of its sentiments been en- 
 shrined within the hearts of a true and 
 
 loyal people, soon it would have .been 
 forgotten and long ere this it would 
 have ceased to awaken the souls of 
 men. 
 
 And were it not for the spirit of' pa- 
 triotism which quickens the heart and 
 fires the soul in the contemplation of 
 brave deeds and unselfish sacrifice; 
 then this day would never have been 
 recorded upon the pages which tell 
 the story of that heroic period when 
 this republic, torn and trembling be- 
 neath the mighty tread of war, was 
 rescued and redeemed from the mail- 
 ed hands, sworn and struggling to de- 
 stroy it. 
 
 As if by one common impulse all, 
 who love liberty and appreciate its 
 great worth, assemble within this sub- 
 lime edifice of Freedom, and study 
 anew the lessons which emblazon the 
 brightest pages of our Nation's his- 
 tory — lessons which were written 
 around the watchfires, upon the weary 
 march, amid the roar of battle, and 
 where famine clutched each bony 
 throat — where service and sacrifice 
 won the unfading laurels which the 
 hand of devotion so tenderly bequeaths 
 today. 
 
 Forget the graves where your de- 
 fenders sleep and soon all the legisla- 
 tion of the land in just recognition of 
 valiant deeds would become a mock- 
 ery and be cast aside amid the buried 
 archives of bygone days. 
 
 In all the ages since history began 
 every nation, worthy its name, receiv- 
 ed its most exalted baptism in , the 
 arena of mortal conflict; but,;i)L re- 
 mained for this nation to dedicate a 
 day for the indulgence of sacred mem- 
 ories, thereby paying homage, . alike, 
 to the humble hero, whose penciled 
 epitaph is but the unrevealing name, 
 "Unknown," and him, whose towering 
 shaft or granite pile tells of imperish- 
 able renown. 
 
 And so, in keeping with these senti- 
 ments, may these memorials be per- 
 petuated, not upon parchment alone, 
 
ibut in tlie devoted heart oT a lofty pa- 
 triotism, and in the heroic manhood 
 of a brave and chivalrous republic 
 throughout the great centuries to 
 <5ome. 
 
 The lessons wh.icli may be learned 
 in the school of Freedom's civiliza- 
 tion are broader than biography and 
 far greater than the power of gifted 
 speech to proclaim. 
 
 At these altar-fires of patriotic love 
 torches of true devotion should be 
 lighted anew year by year, and gen- 
 eration following generation, to burn 
 with unceasing light along the aisles 
 of time, tfirowing outward their far- 
 reaching rays as freely and as gener- 
 ously as the rich, red blood, poured 
 out over countless fields where bay- 
 onets fiashed — where batteries roar- 
 ed — where the "Grim Reaper" gather- 
 de his appaling harvest, but from 
 whence the rallying ranks of the sur- 
 vivors never turned back until the 
 majesty of right prevailed — until the 
 "Divine Law" of human liberty was 
 redeemed, and the bonds of Union 
 were made indestructable forever. 
 
 How beautiful the vision as we 
 look along the vista of oncoming time: 
 
 The broadening infiuences of our 
 Republic in the world's advancement 
 reveal an ever growing glory around 
 the victories which made this Union 
 what it is, and what it stands for to- 
 day. 
 
 In one vast commonwealth it rises 
 like a consummate star above the hor- 
 izon of Nations, its beacon fires light- 
 ing the dome of Liberty's skies; and 
 making brighter the pathway of pro- 
 gress for all the civilizations of the 
 earth. 
 
 But, my fellow contrymen, were it 
 not for the heroic deaths on many 
 fields made holier by patriot's blood, 
 and were it not that our emblem was 
 borne onward by brave hands to the 
 throne of final triumph, then all the 
 grandeur of this great Republic would 
 have faded and fallen, even as did 
 other proud nations of the past, leav- 
 ing this land a helpless and hopeless 
 prey to alien greed, to alien ambition 
 and to the destroying hand of alien 
 powers. 
 
 What a lesson has thus been be- 
 queathed for the unborn ages! 
 
 When the great hour struck, had 
 not the sons of the North rallied in 
 support of the stars and stripes — had 
 their souls lacked the fires of faith, 
 
 and had their hearts been found want- 
 ing before the sheeted flames of Trea- 
 son's tempests, then the light of hu- 
 man liberty would have gone out; 
 and this Temple of lofty hopes and 
 high ambitions would have closed its 
 doors in darkness forever! 
 
 On bended knees both North and 
 South should assemble before the 
 graves of our Nation's dead and give 
 thanks unto God for all the patriotism 
 — for all the sacrifices — and for all the 
 sufferings that saved this Republic 
 from the blind furies of Rebellion's 
 storms. 
 
 The men of battles and campaigns 
 may say but little of the part they in- 
 dividually played upon that mighty 
 stage of human tragedies; but the 
 world knows, and it should never for- 
 get, that, by the valor of those who 
 perished where heroism saluted death 
 in the name of liberty and humanity, 
 and by the virtue of those who sur- 
 vived the storms, this benign Re- 
 public was redeemed to become the 
 brightest day-star in the firmament of 
 nations. 
 
 From the days of the Revolution 
 our flag had been looked upon as false 
 to its teachings and untrue to the pro- 
 fessions made. 
 
 One of the world's most renowned 
 poets — Thomas Campbell — pictured it 
 in these scathing words, 
 
 "United State.s, your banner wears 
 Two emblems — one of fame; 
 Alas! the other that it bears 
 Reminds us of your shame. 
 
 Your standard's constellation types 
 
 White Freedom's by its stars; 
 
 But, what's the meaning of the 
 
 stripes? 
 They mean your negro's scars." 
 
 That was a true conception of the 
 Stars and Stripes until Abraham Lin- 
 coln wrote the Emancipation Decree, 
 and Patriotism enforced it with heroic 
 bayonets in the hands of the boys in 
 blue. 
 
 But at what a price was it purified 
 and its shame erased! 
 
 At what a price was it preserved 
 that it might wave in glory and honor 
 along the pathway up which all peo- 
 ples of the earth shall come in Grod's 
 appointed time! 
 
 And notwithstanding the cost, the 
 penalties paid in blood and tears and 
 travail for disobedience of Divine 
 Laws — notwithstanding all this, with 
 what conscienceless determination un- 
 
scrupulous men attempt to grasp at 
 the great and growing opportunities 
 made possible by those whose mem- 
 ories we revere today! 
 
 Around the watchfires of war, you, 
 my comrades, learned well the lesson 
 which should be heeded and respected 
 throughout all time — that lesson of 
 • "eternal vigilance — the price of lib- 
 erty." 
 
 Lest we forget, and that the rising 
 generations may the better know, it is 
 well each recurring Memorial to 
 calmly take a retrospective view, and 
 consider how near the engulfing tides 
 this Nation trod during her darkest 
 years. 
 
 It is well that a fair comparison be 
 made, that a lesson may be drawn, 
 showing tile causes and conditions 
 which, in the ages past, precipitated 
 other nations and other peoples down 
 to their doom forever. 
 
 And when we so consider, we find 
 that there is but one reasonable con- 
 clusion which the fair mind can reach. 
 The victories, achieved by those who 
 wore the blue, saved this land from 
 the shadows of a night so dark and so 
 desolate that no human being would 
 venture the portrayal of a picture in 
 worthy colors. 
 
 For a few moments let us take a 
 retrospective view. 
 
 In vision let us contemplate the 
 rise and fall of Nations, and trace the 
 impress of the Divine Hand on the 
 great historic page. 
 
 As in the East the first light of day 
 appears, so in the distant East there 
 appeared the first faint light of civili- 
 zation's dawn. 
 
 In the morning of time China rose, 
 giving forth her timid evidence of life, 
 only to lapse into added centuries of 
 silence and sleep. 
 
 The glories of Egypt, once the pride 
 and power of the Eastern world, faded 
 and crumbled into desolation and de- 
 cay. 
 
 Other Nations appeared, and for a 
 while they were lighted up by the ma- 
 jestic orb of civilization, as it moved 
 over them, and then sank down into 
 the all-containing sepluchre, while the 
 "Stars of Empire" moved steadily to 
 the West along the pathway of the 
 sun. 
 
 And, as he advances through hi& 
 storied and mysterious zodiac, we see 
 him rising to his zenith above a proud 
 and imperious Nation, which, with 
 iron hand, dominates the Eastern 
 world. 
 
 For ages Rome ruled with a power 
 sublime and a sovereignty complete. 
 
 But at last luxury and riotuous liv- 
 ing undermined the very foundations 
 of her National life. 
 
 Vice overcame virtue. 
 
 Sensuality was wedded to Slavery, 
 and licentiousness led the Nation 
 along a pathway illumined by the "red 
 lights" of crime and shame. 
 
 Immorality intoxicated her soul, 
 and gnawed at the very fibres of her 
 heart. 
 
 Unrighteousness so cankered and 
 corroded her being that she became 
 the victim of barbarian hosts. 
 
 Amid the temples of her fame, and 
 beside the monuments of her renown, 
 Rome fell. 
 
 She had disobeyed God's laws, and 
 she faded, even as into a dream of 
 things that were. 
 
 And, as the shadows of night fell, 
 like a funeral pall, over that hapless 
 Empire, we see the "Herald of State" 
 moving to the Westward, the "ancient 
 days" closed forever, and the history 
 of the "Mediaeval Period," with all 
 its cruelties, about to begiij. 
 
 We unfold the alluring pages, and 
 we read the story of another thousand 
 years, telling of conflicts and of car- 
 nage and how the tyranny of mon- 
 archs trampled down the rights of 
 man — and how they were wont to as- 
 semble their subserviant hosts, fight- 
 ing for position and added power upon 
 the chessboard of conflicting Common- 
 wealths. 
 
 But, as sure as heaven's voice is 
 heard in the thunderbolts, God was 
 leading the way, and helping to up- 
 lift mankind. 
 
 Divine laws had long been disre- 
 garded, and the prayers of human 
 hearts were heard, sending up their 
 appeals to high heaven against the 
 tyranny of monarchs and thrones. 
 
 And so the crimes and cruelties of 
 Mediaevalism were doomed to give 
 way before the steady growth of lof- 
 
tier sentiments, and loftier emotions, 
 fast possessing the souls of men. 
 
 Out of the darkness of the "Dark 
 Ages." God's hand guided the frail 
 bark of the mariner across the un- 
 tried and trackless deep to the shores 
 of the new world. 
 
 He had reserved this land where 
 truth and justice were finally to tri- 
 umph, and crown humanities hopes. 
 
 And this marked the morning of a 
 new life for civilization in the onward 
 march of time. 
 
 But how truly it has been said: 
 "The hand of God worketh by hidden 
 and mysterious ways," for here, on 
 these shores, the greatest battle 
 ground for the uplifting of humanity 
 was destined to be. 
 
 Here the strength of a Throne w'as 
 to be tested in the crucible of war, 
 and tyranny was doomed to go down 
 in everlasting defeat. 
 
 Here the majesty of American man- 
 hood, made brighter and stronger 
 around the w^atchfires • of patriotic 
 zeal, was to receive its baptism on 
 fields made red with patriot's blood. 
 
 Across the seas the mailed hand 
 was stretched to oppress and sub- 
 jugate, and the voice of a monarch de- 
 manded obedience to his claimed 
 rights of Divine Powder, 
 
 Then the spirit of a new^-born life 
 rose up, and brave hearts and loyal 
 hands wrote a decree which said that 
 oppression must depart forever from 
 these shores. 
 
 The majesty of heroic manhood 
 stood erect and defied the edict of a 
 kind. 
 
 The Declaration of Independence 
 w^as written defining the heaven-or- 
 dained heritage of man. 
 
 Plowshares w-ere forged into bayo- 
 nets, and patriotism declared its reso- 
 lution to defend, if need be, man's in- 
 alienable rights in the arena of mortal 
 conflict. 
 
 A new flag was made, with stripes 
 of red for valor, of white for purity, 
 with a field of blue for justice, and, 
 within that field, they set a cluster of 
 starsi— one for each State and all uni- 
 ted i.i?,,ilie bonds of a "National Un- 
 ion."' '/ 
 
 "British red coats" and "Hessian 
 Hirelings" assailed this new flag, and 
 every principle for which it stood; but 
 God had raised up a Washington and 
 a Hamilton and the rugged patriots 
 who wrote across that banner, in let- 
 ters of blood and flame, the name of 
 Lexington, Bunker Hill, Concord, Sar- 
 atoga, Valley Forge and Yorktown — 
 each succeeding field cementing the 
 bonds of Union stronger and stronger 
 by the priceless carnage, so freely and 
 so generously given. 
 
 At last, after almost eight years of 
 hardships, where marching feet made 
 red the drifting snows, where priva- 
 tions, unparalelled in all history, w^ere 
 endured — after it all there came the 
 glory of a free and independent Re- 
 public! 
 
 Time swept on its rapid flight which 
 tested the Nation strength and, amid 
 the struggles and dangers of other 
 years, the pen of Genius traced these 
 heroic lines: 
 
 "Lift up your eyes, desponding freemen, 
 Fling- to the winds your needless fears; 
 He, who unfurled your beautiovis ban- 
 ner, 
 Says it shall wave a. thousand years. 
 
 "A Thousand years, my own Columbia; 
 'Tis the sclad days so long foretold, 
 'Tis the glad morn, whose early twilight 
 Washington saw in times of old. 
 
 And so the "Star of Empire," which 
 had completed here the cycle of his 
 wondrous course, stood at mid Heav- 
 ens over this valiant people of the 
 Western World. 
 
 For forty centuries he had' journey- 
 ed, and here he shone upon this 
 Temple of God's covenant, here to re- 
 main unless some destroying power 
 should come to overwhelm and sweep 
 it away. ~ 
 
 Prosperity multiplied until, em- 
 boldened by their success in controll- 
 ing the reins of Government, the great 
 South, fast growing into an aristocracy 
 through the gift of the bondsman's 
 toil, became restive under the restraint 
 of a centralized power. 
 
 And so Northern hearts, beating to 
 the transports of joy under Freedom's 
 flag, were fast becoming the objects 
 of hate by Southern hearts, beating 
 to the love of human slavery. 
 
 Like the sins which once under- 
 mined the power of Rome, so the sins 
 of that unholy institution were as 
 surely polluting the heart, poisoning 
 the brain and intoxicating the soul of 
 
« the slave-ridden South, while her lead- 
 ers, emboldened by their long domina- 
 tion, were resolved to rule, or to deso- 
 late their domain with the mailed 
 hand of civil war. 
 
 Southern press and pulpit turned 
 their half closed eyes backward, 
 claiming to find in the remote ages 
 the Divine right of shackles and 
 chains. 
 
 And, while they were clamoring 
 and demanding the privilege of ex- 
 tended power, treasonable hands were 
 stealthily preparing for the supreme 
 struggle. 
 
 For a time only the mutterings of 
 discord were heard, and then the 
 harsh voice of disunion began to chal- 
 lenge the strength of the constitution 
 itself. 
 
 These sentiments continued to grow 
 and become more intense until the 
 startling truth dawned upon the peace- 
 loving of the land that the stability 
 of tile Republic must ere long be 
 tested amid the tumult of embattling 
 blade?, or allowed to crumble and per- 
 ish from the face of the earth for- 
 ever.- 
 
 In the halls of Congress master- 
 minds met, and the passions of de- 
 bate intensified until the North awoke 
 to the realization that these mutter- 
 ings from Rebellious lips were like 
 distant thunder roar, faint at first, but 
 approaching, ever growing stronger 
 and stronger until the tempest was 
 destined to burst forth in all the 
 strength of its gathering fury. 
 
 For half a century a few leaders of 
 the South had moulded the minds of 
 the masses, even as wax is moulded 
 in the master's hand, ever preparing 
 the way for the destroying test of 
 deadly steel which they knew was 
 sure to come. 
 
 Ho:)ing to turn the tide, to stem 
 the thickening storm which could end 
 only through the martyrdom of vast 
 myriads, such as those around whose 
 gra'-es the feet of millions tread today, 
 that fearless champion of the consti- 
 tution — Daniel Webster — appealed 
 with all the strength of his transcend- 
 ent power. 
 
 Standing beside the cradle of his 
 fondest hopes, pleading for the life of 
 the infant Republic, its enemies revil- 
 ing it and resolved to tear it down, 
 he spoke as one inspired — as one be- 
 holding a .«ad vision afar. 
 
 And could he see contending hosts 
 of blue and gray? 
 
 Could he see the old flag, crowned 
 with her shining stars, emblematic of 
 unbroken States, confronted on two 
 thousand fields of human blood, chal- 
 lenged by a new flag cursed with the 
 bars of hapless bondage? 
 
 Could he feel the lessening heart- 
 beat of the Republic as the blood of 
 her bravest was flowing fainter and 
 fainter, fast ebbing away? 
 
 Could he behold the valley of de- 
 feat at Bull Run, or the glories of 
 Gettysburg baptized with the blood 
 of almost fifty thousand as the price 
 there paid? 
 
 And did his vision reach beyond the 
 rising mists of Appomattox, that he 
 might behold a new Nation — a Nation 
 whose beacons were to burn so 
 bright that they would illuminate the 
 world ? 
 
 Let us recall the vision. 
 
 "I have not allowed myself to look 
 beyond the Union to see what might 
 lie hidden in the dark recess behind. 
 I have not cooly weighed the chances 
 of preserving liberty when the bonds 
 that unite us together shall be broken 
 asunder. I have not accustomed my- 
 self to hang over the precipice of dis^ 
 union to see whether, with my short 
 sight, I can fathom the depth of the 
 abyss below. 
 
 "While the Union lasts we have 
 high, exciting, gratifying prospects 
 spread out before us and our children. 
 Beyond that I seek not to penetrate 
 the veil. God grant that on my vision 
 never may be opened- what lies be- 
 hind. 
 
 "When my eyes shall be turned to 
 behold, for the last time, the sun in 
 heaven, may I not see him shining on 
 the broken and dishonored fragments 
 of a once glorious Union; on States 
 severed, discordant, beligerant; on a 
 land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, 
 it may be, in fraternal blood! 
 
 "Let their last feeble and lingering 
 glance, rather, behold the gorgeous 
 ensign, of the Republic, now known 
 and honored throughout the earth, still 
 full high advanced, its arms and tro- 
 phies streaming in their original lus- 
 ter, not a single stripe erased, or pol- 
 luted, not a single star obscured, bear- 
 ing, for its motto, no such miserable 
 interrogatory as — what is all this 
 worth? — nor those other words of de- 
 
lusion and folly — Liberty first and 
 Union afterwards — but everywhere 
 spread all over in characters of living 
 light, blazing on all its ample folds, as 
 they float over the sea and over the 
 land, and in every wind under the 
 whole heaven, that other sentiment, 
 dear to every true American heart, 
 'Liberty and Union, now and forever 
 one and inseparable.' " 
 
 These were the closing words of the 
 most profound speech ever delivered 
 in the Senate of the United States. 
 
 Mr. Webster was the leading orator 
 of the age, and he thundered, in logic 
 sublime and eloquence unanswerable, 
 his exposition of the written law. 
 
 But there was a resolute determina- 
 tion in the South which no hand could 
 stay, no reason could control, and no 
 power could dictate. 
 
 There stood a bonded strength, blind 
 to every interest except the expansion 
 of slavery, and determined to throw 
 its shadow athwart the pathway of 
 Freedom's progress, no matter what 
 the cost. 
 
 The fires of passion were kindled 
 and the bitterness of debate hastened 
 the inevitable hour when orthorical 
 voices were to give way to the roar of 
 battle, where death was to be king 
 where desolation was to ride supreme 
 amid the furies of the storms. 
 
 At last the all-polluting curse, nour- 
 ished upon the breast of slavery, lift- 
 ed its hybrid head and hissed defiance 
 to the flag that Washington had un- 
 furled, and beneath which he had led 
 his patriot hosts to victory. 
 
 No longer would the slave powers 
 listen to his teachings — him whom the 
 generations had loved to call "The 
 Father of His Country" — him whose 
 most earnest admonition was for the 
 stiength and stability of an indivisi- 
 ble Union of States. 
 
 They refused to heed the warning 
 voice Qf Jefferson who, in contemplat- 
 ing the crime of slavery, said: "I trem- 
 ble for my country when I refle'.l that 
 God is just." 
 
 But no! perfidious hands were 
 stealthily preparing the way to battle- 
 fields where bloody tragedies were to 
 reveal the horrors of a patricidal war. 
 
 Southern leaders had long since re- 
 solved that the umpirage of slavery 
 should rule the western world. 
 
 They — the embroilers of the fight — 
 were determined to become the high 
 arbiters of every question between 
 North and South. 
 
 The forum of debate was closed. 
 
 The forum of battle was about to 
 begin. 
 
 Magnanimity had bended its knee 
 for the last time, and then the great 
 heart of the North — the heart of con- 
 ciliation — almost stood still. 
 
 And would the humble sons of toil 
 rise to the supreme test? 
 
 Would they meet the military spirit 
 of the imperious and impetuous South? 
 
 Was the verdict of arms to break 
 forever the bonds of Union? 
 
 Were the anathemas of human lib- 
 erty to endure? 
 
 Must Freedom perish? 
 
 Was the history of the Roman down- 
 fall to be repeated on these shores? 
 
 And was this no longer to be "a 
 government of the people, by the peo- 
 ple and for the people?" 
 
 These were the questions" which 
 could be answered only by loyal hearts 
 which were soon to beat beneath the 
 uniform of blue. 
 
 These were the questions which 
 could be settled only as Northern man- 
 hood was to march forth to meet the 
 battering engines of Rebellion's hosts. 
 
 As Brutus poised the casca of 
 treachery, and struck deep, piercing 
 the mantle, and penetrating the heart 
 of Caeser, so the uplifted hand of Jef- 
 ferson Davis poised the dagger of 
 Treason, impatient for the auspicious 
 hour, then plunged it deep, hoping to 
 destroy the mantle of sovereign law, 
 and penetrate the heart of Liberty it- 
 self. 
 
 And as the Brutus of the ancient 
 days beheld the life of the Roman 
 Republic oozing out through the 
 wounds of Caeser, so this Brutus of 
 the modern days — Jefferson Davis — 
 embittered by disappointed ambitions, 
 hoped to see the life of the American 
 Republic ooze out through the blood 
 of those who might dare to question 
 his right to commit the crime. 
 
 But the moment the first lanyard 
 was pulled, hurling his message of 
 hate against the battlements of hu- 
 
man liberty, Northern valor sprang in- 
 to life and accepted the challenge. 
 
 As the lightning flashes and sends 
 forth its fiery tongues from the bosom 
 of the gathering storm, so the fires 
 of battle sprang into raging tempests 
 which never ceased until Treason was 
 reduced to ashes and consigned to its 
 ignominous and eternal tomb. 
 
 How loyal! How true! And how 
 steadfast were the hearts that beat in 
 the defence of Union, and how sincere 
 the voices that rent the air with their 
 brave "hurrahs" amid the roar of bat- 
 tle, the roll-call of the unreplying dead 
 told the fateful story. 
 
 They died in the ravines. 
 
 They died upon the hilltops. 
 
 They saluted death as they climbed 
 the mountain sides. 
 
 They sank down into dreamless 
 sleep beneath the rolling rivers and 
 roaring sea. 
 
 They rest beneath the willows and 
 the pines where only the birds break 
 the silence of their repose. 
 
 On many a field, as the night drew 
 its folds about them, they sank down 
 to rest in sad contemplation of the 
 coming day: 
 
 "^Comrades brave around me lying, 
 Filled with thoughts^ of home and God; 
 For well they know that on the mor- 
 row 
 Some will sleep beneath the sod. 
 
 Tradition tells us that Greeks sat 
 "combing their yellow hair before the 
 fight at Thermopylae that in death 
 they should be well favored." 
 
 On the eve of Cold Harbor's gory 
 struggle the Boys in Blue sewed their 
 names, written on bits or white cloth 
 or paper, onto their uniforms, that 
 when dead they might be identified, 
 and then laid down in their last liv- 
 ing sleep before the breaking furies of 
 that awful storm whose history was 
 drenched in gushing blood. 
 
 Beloved of liberty! They sleep 
 where "glory guards, with solemn 
 sound, the bivouac of the dead." 
 
 Everywhere they fell; manhood in 
 its meridian; boyhood as fair as was 
 ever kissed by fond mother's lips, or 
 held in love's embrace — all alike on 
 thick-strewn fields where pale faces 
 
 were turned upward to receive the 
 dews of eternal night, dying that the 
 Nation might live. 
 
 But above the fire and smoke of 
 battle— above the thunderbolts roar- 
 ing and resounding from brazen 
 throats— and above the bombs that 
 flew on fiery wings. God's hand 
 guided the destiny of this Republic, 
 and rebuilded it stronger than ever be- 
 fore. 
 
 The vision of Daniel Webster was 
 fulfilled in all the horrors of his real- 
 istic dream, and his prayer was an- 
 swered in fullest measure, for God haa 
 closed his eyes that he might not see 
 his loved land "drenched m fraternal 
 blood. " 
 
 That his vision was complete, and 
 that the mutterings of Treason's ton- 
 gues then heard in that august ben- 
 ate did grow into voices louder than 
 were ever hurled from an angry sky. 
 and that the tempests of rebellion and 
 the black clouds of the deadly storms 
 did drench this fair land m the blood 
 of America's bravest and best, the 
 graves of the unreplying dead from 
 the Mississippi to the sea, bear their 
 mute testimony, and will to the end 
 of time. 
 
 But, beyond the storms of leaden 
 hail, and through the holocausts of 
 hurtling deaths, his vision was unable 
 to penetrate. 
 
 No mortal eye could then behold 
 that which the blood of these dead 
 purchased, and that which your valor, 
 my beloved comrades, and your vic- 
 tories maintained: "Liberty and Union 
 now and forever, one and insepara- 
 ble." 
 
 Out of the mists of Appomatox's im- 
 mortal morn, with the voice of hostile 
 cannon hushed, the smoke of battle 
 fading fast and forever away, there 
 arose in all her queenly grace The 
 Goddess of Liberty," robbed in re- 
 splendent light, her diadem radiant 
 with every star redeemed, her tear- 
 stained eyes lighted up with hope as 
 as she uttered these immortal words 
 —words which had fallen from the 
 lips of him who was marked so soon 
 for the sacrifice. 
 
 "With malice towards none, with 
 charity for all, let us bind up the Na- 
 tion's wounds. Let us do all that may 
 achieve and cherish a just and lasting 
 peace among ourselves and with all 
 Nations" — a message such as never 
 
before, in all the mighty tide of time, 
 had been extended to a crushed and 
 conquered foe. 
 
 The remnant of the survivors, 
 wearied with years, and bent with the 
 burden of their toil, are passing — 
 rapidly passing away. 
 
 Other hearts and other hands must 
 keep bright the watchfires of patriot- 
 ic zeal. 
 
 Persistent attempts are now being 
 made to destroy and sweep away the 
 distinguishing line between National 
 patriotism and sectional treason. 
 
 All such malignant efforts should 
 receive their just rebuke before dan- 
 ger-fires are kindled again to menace 
 all these great blessings secured 
 through patriot's toil and the travail 
 of Martyr's blood. 
 
 In keeping with the sentiments of 
 the day I feel that it will not be out 
 of place for me to tell a story of that 
 great struggle. 
 
 Tennyson immortalized the "Charge 
 of the Light Brigade," and yet, there 
 was one charge in the Civil War by a 
 handful of cavalrymen more sublime 
 and more heroic, than that of "The 
 Noble Six Hundred." 
 
 It was at Chancellorsville. 
 
 Stonewall Jackson had effected a 
 flank movement and was driving the 
 Eleventh Corps of Hooker's army in 
 route and almost certain defeat. 
 
 Time must be bought that the bat- 
 teries might be brought into position 
 to save the day. 
 
 With his quick eye Gen. Pleasanton 
 grasped the danger and comprehended 
 what must be done. 
 
 He ordered Maor Peter Keenan 
 with his three hundred cavalrymen to 
 charge against the oncoming twenty 
 thousand. 
 
 Oh! what a scene! what a sacrifice! 
 a scene well worthy the entablatures 
 of immortal fame. . 
 
 The poet tells the story: 
 
 By the shrouded gleam of the western 
 
 skies, 
 Brave Keenan looked in Pleasanton's 
 
 eyes 
 For an instant — clear, and cool, and still; 
 Then with a smile, he said: "I will." 
 
 "Cavalry, charge!" Not a man of them 
 
 shrank. 
 Their sharp, full cheer, from rank to 
 
 rank. 
 Rose joyously, with a willing breath — 
 Rose like a greeting hail to death. 
 
 Then forward they sprang, and spurred 
 and clashed; 
 
 Shouted the officers, crimson-sash'd; 
 
 Rode well the men, each brave as his 
 fellow. 
 
 In their faded coats of the blue and yel- 
 low, 
 
 And above in the air, with an instinct 
 true. 
 
 Like a bird of war their pennon flew. 
 
 With clank of scabbards and thunder of 
 
 steeds. 
 And blades that shine like sunlit reeds. 
 And Strong, brown faces bravely pale 
 For fear their proud attempt shall fail. 
 Three hundred Pennsylvanians close 
 On twice ten thousand gallant foes. 
 
 Line after line the troopers came 
 
 To the edge of the wood that was ring'd 
 with flame; ' 
 
 Rode in and sabered and shot — and fell; 
 
 Nor came one back his wounds to tell. 
 
 And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall. 
 
 In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his 
 fall, 
 
 While the circle-stroke of his saber 
 swung 
 
 'Round his head, like a halo there, lum- 
 inous hung. 
 
 Line after line; ay, whole platoons. 
 Struck dead in their saddles, of brave 
 
 dragoons, 
 By the maddened horses ' were onward 
 
 borne, 
 And into the vortex flung, trampled 
 
 and torn; 
 As Keenan fought with his men, side by 
 
 side 
 So they rode, till there were no more 
 
 to ride. 
 
 But over them lying there, shattered and 
 mute, 
 
 What deep echo rolls? — 'Tis a death sa- 
 lute 
 
 From the cannon in place; for. heroes, 
 you braved 
 
 Your fate not in vain; the army was 
 saved! 
 
 Over them now — year following year — 
 
 Over their graves, the pine-cones fall, 
 
 And the whip-poo'-will chants his spec- 
 ter-call; 
 
 But they stir not again; they raise no 
 cheer: 
 
 They have ceased. But their glory shall 
 never cease, 
 
 Nor their light be quenched in the light 
 of peace. 
 
 The rush of their charge is resounding 
 still 
 
 That saved the army at Chancellorsville. 
 
 Bear with me for a moment while 
 I repeat a few lines picturing a scene 
 many times enacted during that great 
 struggle — a scene which brings back 
 to my own mind the vision of a coun- 
 try hillside — a home back in New Eng- 
 land whence five boys went forth, two 
 of them soon to be wrapped in their 
 faded blue, and laid down in their 
 eternal sleep. 
 
There were over two hundred thou- 
 sand lads in that war who enlisted 
 when under seventeen years of age. 
 
 This is a brief story of one of them. 
 
 Out of the clovei- and blue-eyed grass, 
 He turned them into the river-lane; 
 
 One after another he let them pass, 
 Then fastened the meadow bars again. 
 
 Under the willows and over the hill. 
 He patiently followed their sober pace; 
 
 The merry whistle for once was still, 
 And something shadowed the sunny 
 face. 
 
 Only a boy! and his father said 
 
 He never could let his youngest go: 
 
 Two were already lying dead 
 
 Under the feet of the trampling foe. 
 
 But after the evening work was done. 
 And the frogs were loua In the mead- 
 ow swamp, 
 Over his shoulder he swung his gun, 
 And stealthily followed the foot-path 
 damp, — 
 Across the clover and through the wheat 
 With resolute heart and purpose grim. 
 Though cold was the dew on his hurry- 
 ing feet, 
 And the blind bats flittering startled 
 him. 
 
 Thrice since then had the lanes been 
 white. 
 And the orchards sweet with apple- 
 bloom; 
 And now, when the cows came back at 
 night, 
 The feeble father drove them home. 
 
 For news had come to the lonely farm, 
 That three were lying where two had 
 lain; 
 
 And the old man's tremulous palsied arm 
 Could never lean on a son's again. 
 
 The summer day grew cool and late; 
 He went for the cows when the work 
 was done; 
 But down the lane, as he opened the 
 gate, 
 He saw them coming one by one, — 
 
 Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess, 
 
 Shaking their horns in the evening 
 wind. 
 Cropping the buttercups out of the 
 grass — 
 But who was it following close behind? 
 
 Loosely swung in the idle air 
 
 The empty sleeve of army blue; 
 And worn and pale, from the crisping 
 hair, 
 Looked out a face that the father 
 knew; — 
 
 For Southern prisons will sometimes 
 yawn. 
 And vield their dead unto life again; 
 
 And the day that comes with a cloudy 
 morn 
 In golden glory at last may wane. 
 
 The great tears sprang to their meeting 
 eyes; 
 For the heart must speak when the 
 lips are dumb, 
 And under the silent evening skies 
 Together they followed the cattle 
 home. 
 
 I will close with a poem which fit- 
 tingly and pathetically applies to ev- 
 ery parade where now the men of the 
 Grand Army of the Republic fall in 
 line to go forward beneath the flag 
 they followed through the vicissitudes 
 of war, and which waves in triumph 
 over the proudest Nation and the most 
 prosperous people of all the earth. 
 
 "See them come. 
 
 With shrill and fife and roll of drum — 
 Old, gnarled, storm-beaten, hobbling by, 
 The men who breasted joyously 
 Wild war's red wave with horrid crest — 
 These mighty warriors of the West — 
 And keep the flag unstained and bright, 
 Eternal emblem of the right! 
 
 "Unbidden tears, 
 
 And leaping hearts and sob-choked 
 
 cheers — 
 Involuntary tribute these 
 To men who faced the Hoods and Lees' 
 They pass! And at their colmn's head 
 March the old colors which once led 
 The hosts of freedom through the sea 
 Of blood and strife to liberty! 
 
 "And as we gaze, 
 
 We seem to see through time-born haze, 
 The ebb and flow of long past fights. 
 And all the glorious, ghastly sights 
 Of war, which, born of human hate, 
 Served none the less to make men great! 
 Grant, Sherman, Sheridan still lead 
 The Nation's hosts in hours of need! 
 
 "No gold could buy 
 These tattered flags! We see them fly 
 From Lookout's top and on the slope 
 Of Gettysburg — a nation's hope, 
 We strive for wealth and fame and pow- 
 er 
 Yet would give all for one great hour 
 Of manly grappling with grim death. 
 Robed in the cannon's angry breath! 
 
 "So they creep past — 
 
 Those who once charged in war's hot 
 
 blast! 
 The nation seems to fall in line — 
 The dead are here, the old ensign 
 Waves proudly over all; And we 
 Pray God to keep us ever free. 
 True to our mission, honest, brave 
 As those who fought this land to save!" 
 
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