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Charles Rufus Skinner.

Manual of patriotism : for use in the public schools of the State of New York online

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tyranny and lift the Cuban to the joys of Freedom. Do not fear that
such a service will celebrate the glories of war, and so create a warlike
spirit in youthful hearts; no, for it commemorates, rather, the sorrowful
and heart-aching phases of strife. Nor fear that the keeping of such
a day will stir up a spirit of bitterness against the conquered South;
no, that has died away by the healing effects of time, by the thought
of a common origin and common destiny of all the states in the Union.
The South as well as the North keeps its Memorial Day — for sorrow
for the dead, as Washington Irving has told us, is the only sorrow
from which we refuse to be separated. But in recent years — on plat-
forms, in burial-grounds, wherever and however Memorial Day has
been kept, — the " Boys in Blue " and the " Boys in Gray " have met
and each borne testimony to the valor and honor of the other. If the
teacher of a school cannot arrange for an exercise in the school, at
least see to it that the boys and girls have a part in any commemoration
arranged by a G. A. R. post or committee. And whether in school,
in public hall or assembly, at a cemetery — wherever Memorial Day
is kept, — let it be understood and impressed that it is always the
mission of Right and Duty to declare and carry on war, whenever the
Union is in peril, or the cause of Freedom demands the sacrifice.



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THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY. 2 0Q



QUOTATIONS.

Mid the flower-wreathed tombs I stand
Bearing lilies in my hand.

— Thomas Wentworth Higginson.

The light that shines from a patriot's grave is a pure and holy light. — Homer
Everett.

Proudly do I give
A song to you who kept the banner old,
The dearest flag o'er any country blowing.

— Maurice F. Thompson.

Let us scatter over their graves the brightest beauties of life — the glad tokens
of a blessed immortality. — George S. Mitchell.

Wherever Honor's sword is drawn,

And Justice rears her head,
Where heroes fall and martyrs bleed,

There rest our Country's dead.

— Cornelia M. Jordan.

There is a shrine in the temple of ages where lies, forever embalmed, the
memories of such as have deserved well of their country and their race. — John Mason
Brown.

Foes we were in the years long past,

Now friends in Union true;
And the tie that binds our loyal love

Is the Red, the White and Blue.

— Anon.

So long as the glorious flag for which they died waves over our reunited country,
will each recurring spring see fresh laurels on the graves of our country's dead. —
Anon.

* * * fallen in manhood's fairest noon, —
We will remember, mid our sighs,
He never yields his life too soon,
For country and for right who dies.

— Atlantic Monthly.

Our Country's Gallant Dead— Our country's soil gives them all sepulture. They
sleep beneath the Stripes and Stars. — Joseph H. Twitchell.

14



210 MANUAL OF PATRIOTISM.

The Northern Lights are blending

With the rays of the Southern Cross,
And the gulf is bridged between them

By a common sense of loss.

— Susan J. Adams.

They have not died in vain. The great hope that inspired and armed them has
been realized how gloriously! They saved their country — they and such as they. —
George Putnam (adapted).

They throng the silence of the heart,

We see them as of yore;
The kind, the true, the brave, the sweet,

Who talk with us no more.

— Anon.

Invoke all to heed well the lesson of Decoration Day, to weave each year a fresh
garland for the grave of some hero and to rebuke any and all who talk of civil war,
save as the " last dread tribunal of kings and peoples." — Gen. William T. Sherman
(adapted).

Their names resplendent on the roll of fame,
Their monument each flag that floats on high:

Why should we weep? No, no, they are not dead;
A grateful country will not let them die.

— Thomas F. Power.

In the fie!u of Gettysburg, as we now behold it, the blue and the gray blending in
happy harmony, like the mingling hues of the summer landscape, we may see the
radiant symbol of the triumphant America of our pride, our hope and our joy. —
George William Curtis.

Sleep, comrades, sleep in calm repose,

Upon Columbia's breast;
For thee with love her bosom glows

Rest ye, brave heroes, rest!

— /. Henry Dzvyer.

Every act of noble sacrifice to the country, every instance of patriotic devotion
to her cause has its beneficial influence. A nation's character is the sum of its
splendid deeds; they constitute our common patrimony, the nation's inheritance. —
Henry Clay.



THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY. 2II

* * * in the great review

When crowns and uniforms shall never fade,
Heroes, receive your honors due

On grand parade.

— John A. Murphy.

All the great and good shall live in the heart of ages, while marble and bronze
shall endure, and when marble and bronze have perished, they shall " still live " in
memory so long as men shall reverence law and honor patriotism and love liberty. —
Edward Everett.

Glorious and meet
To honor thus the dead,
Who chose the better part
And for their country bled.

— Richard Watson Gilder.

"Dead on the field of honor!" This is the record of thousands of unnamed
men, whose influence upon other generations is associated with no personal distinc-
tion, but whose sacrifice will lend undying lustre to the nation's archives, and richer
capacity to the national life. — E. A. Chapin.

Soft stream the sunshine overhead,
Green grow the grasses on your graves;

Heaven will remember you, though dead,
Ungarlanded, immortal braves.

— Harper's Magazine.

Those who fought against us, are now of us and with us reverently acknowledge
that above all the desires of men move the majestic laws of God, evolving alike
from victory or defeat of nations, a substantial good for all His children. — Gen.
George A. Sheridan.

Sleep soldiers! still in honored rest

Your truth and valor wearing;
The bravest are the tenderest, —

The loving are the daring.

— Bayard Taylor.

We join you in setting apart this land as an undying monument of peace, brother-
hood, and perpetual Union. We unite in the solemn consecration of these hallowed
hills as a holy, eternal pledge of fidelity to the life, freedom and unity of this cherished
Republic. — Gen. John B. Gordon, Address on behalf of Confederate veterans, Gettys-
burg, Pa., July 3, 1888.



212 MANUAL OF PATRIOTISM.

A debt we ne'er can pay

To them is justly due,
And, to the Nation's latest day,
Our children's children still shall say,

" They died for me and you."

— Anon.

By the homely traditions of the fireside, by the headstones in the churchyard
consecrated to those whose forms repose far off in rude graves, or sleep beneath the
sea, embalmed in the memory of succeeding generations of parents and children, the
heroic dead will live on in immortal youth. — Governor Andrew, of Massachusetts.

So close the Blue and Gray have fought,

So near they lowly lie,
God grant, that now their life-work wrought,

Their arms be linked on high



Peace blesses all our happy land,

One flag from lake to sea.
Great God! each loyal heart and hand,

And voice is praising Thee.

— D. H. Kent.

To-day it is the highest duty of all, no matter on what side they were, but above
all of those who have struggled for the preservation of the Union, to strive that it
become one of generous confidence in which all the States shall, as of old, stand
shoulder to shoulder, if need be, against the world in arms. — Ex-Attorney-General
Charles Devens.



SELECTIONS.

Your marches, sieges, and battles, in distance, duration, resolu-
tion, and brilliancy of results, dim the luster of the world's past
military achievements, and will be the patriot's precedent in de-
fense of liberty and right in all time to come. In obedience to
your country's call, you left your homes and families, and volunteered
in her defense. Victory has crowned your valor, and secured the pur-
pose of your patriotic hearts; and with the gratitude of your country-
men, and the highest honors a great and free nation can accord, you



THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY.



213



will soon be permitted to return to your homes and families, conscious
of having discharged the highest duties of American citizens. — Ulysses
S. Grant (from his farewell to the Union Army).

The soldiers of the Republic were not seekers after vulgar glory.
They were not animated by the hope of plunder or the love of con-
quest. They fought to preserve the blessings of liberty and that their
children might have peace. They were the defenders of humanity, the
destroyers of prejudice, the breakers of chains, and in the name of the
future they slew the monster of their time. All honor to the Brave!
They kept our country on the map of the world, and our flag in heaven.
The soldiers of the Republic finished what the soldiers of the Revolu-
tion commenced. They relighted the torch that fell from their august
hands and filled the world again with light. — Robert G. Ingersoll.

Grander than the Greek, nobler than the Roman, the soldiers of
the Republic, with patriotism as taintless as the air, battled for the
rights of others; for the nobility of labor; fought that mothers might
own their babes; that arrogant idleness should not scar the back of
patient toil; and that our country should not be a many-headed mon-
ster made of warring states, but a nation, sovereign, grand, and free.
Blood was water, money, leaves, and life was common air until one
flag floated over a Republic, without a master and without a slave.
The soldiers of the Union saved the South as well as the North. They
made us a nation. Their victory made us free and rendered tyranny
in every other land as insecure as snow upon volcano lips. They rolled
the stone from the sepulchre of progress, and found therein two angels
clad in shining garments — Nationality and Liberty. — Robert G. Inger-
soll.

I share with you all the pleasure and gratitude which Americans
should feel on this anniversary (July 4). But I must dissent from one
remark to the effect that I saved the country during the war. If our
country could be saved or ruined by the efforts of one man, we should
not have a country. If I had never held command, if I had fallen, if all
our generals had fallen, there were ten thousand behind who would
have done our work just as well, and who would have followed the



214 MANUAL OF PATRIOTISM.

contest to the end and never surrendered the Union. We should have
been unworthy of our country and of the American name if we had not
made every sacrifice to save the Union. — Ulysses S. Grant.

Sometimes in passing along the street, I meet a man who, in the
left lapel of his coat, wears a little, plain, modest, unassuming bronze
button. The coat is often old and rusty; the face above, seamed and
furrowed by the toil and suffering of adverse years; perhaps beside it
hangs an empty sleeve, and below it stumps a wooden peg. But when
I meet the man who wears that button, I doff my hat and stand un-
covered in his presence — yea! to me the very dust his weary feet has
pressed is holy ground; for I know that man, in the dark Hour of the
nation's peril, bared his breast to the hell of battle to keep the flag of
our country in the Union sky.

May be at Donelson, he reached the inner trench; at Shiloh", held
the broken line; at Chattanooga, climbed the flame-swept hill; or
stormed the clouds on Lookout Heights. He was not born or bred
to soldier life. His country's summons called him from the plow, the
bench, the forge, the loom, the mine, the store, the office, the college,
the sanctuary. He did not fight for greed of gold, to find adventure,
or to win renown. He loved the peace of quiet ways; and yet he broke
the clasp of clinging arms, turned from the witching glance of tender
eyes, left good-bye kisses on tiny lips, to look death in the face on
desperate fields. And when the war was over, he quietly took up the
broken threads of love and life as best he could, a better citizen for
having been so good a soldier. — John H. Thurston.

The Minute Man of the Revolution! And who was he? He was
the husband and father, who left the plough in the furrow, the hammer
on the bench, and kissing his wife and children, marched to die or to
be free. The Minute Man of the Revolution! He was the old, the
middle-aged, the young. He was Captain Miles of Acton, who reproved
his men for jesting on the march! He was Deacon Josiah Haines, of
Sudbury, eighty years old, who marched with his company to South
Bridge, at Concord, then joined in that hot pursuit to Lexington, and
fell as gloriously as Warren at Bunker Hill. This was the Minute Man
of the Revolution! The rural citizen, trained in the common school,



THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY. 01 -

2I 5

the town-meeting, who carried a bayonet that thought, and whose gun,
loaded with a principle, brought down, not a man, but a system!
Intrenched in his own honesty, the king's gold could not buy him;
enthroned in the love of his fellow-citizens, the king's writ could not
take him; and when, on the morning at Lexington, the king's troops
marched to seize him, his sublime faith saw, beyond the clouds of the
moment, the rising sun of the America we behold, and careless of
himself, mindful only of his country, he exultingly exclaimed: " Oh!
What a glorious morning! " — George William Curtis.

All honor to the Army of the United States. Truly is its muster
roll shorter than the list of its achievements. Yet amid all strictures,
cavil, and carping it has a place well earned and warm in the heart of
this people, for its generals have never sought to be dictators, nor its
regiments pretorian guards, and with them the safety of the country
and the liberties of the people are secure. And long, long may it be so!

William E. Furness.

Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured name, every river
shall keep some solemn title, every valley and every lake shall cherish
its honored register; and till the mountains are worn out and the rivers
forget to flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs, and the
springs forget to gush, and the rills to sing, shall their names be kept
fresh with reverent honors which are inscribed upon the book of
National Remembrance. — H. W. Beecher.

Thank God for deeds of valor done!

Thank God for victories hardly won!

That such as you need never know

The anguish of those days of woe;

For time and peace old wounds have healed,

And flowers now strew the battle-field.

But ah! the graves that no man names or knows,
Uncounted graves, which never can be found;
Graves of the precious " missing " where no sound

Of tender weeping will be heard, where goes
No loving step of kindred.
But nature knows her wilderness,



21 6 MANUAL OF PATRIOTISM.

There are no " missing " in her numbered ways,
In her great heart is no forgetfulness,
Each grave she keeps, she will adorn, caress;
We cannot lay such wreaths as Summer lays,
And all her days are Decoration Days.

— Helen Hunt.



The muffled drum's sad roll has beat

The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet

That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping ground

Their silent tents are spread.
And Glory guards, with solemn round,

The bivouac of the dead.



Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead!

Dear is the blood you gave.
No impious footsteps here shall tread

The herbage of your grave.
Nor shall your story be forgot

While Fame her record keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot

Where Valor proudly sleeps.

*******

— Theodore O'Hara.



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THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY. 2 IQ



SELECTIONS.



BUGLES OF GETTYSBURG.

Sound, bugles! sound again!
Rouse them to life again,

Awake them all!
Here, where the Blue and Gray
Struggled in fierce array,
Wake them in peace to-day;

God bless them all!

Sound bugles! sound again!
Sound o'er these hills again,

Where gather all;
Those who are left to-day,
Left of the battle's fray,
Left of the Blue and Gray;

God bless them all!

Sound bugles! sound again!
Bid all unite again,

Like brothers all;
Here, clasping hands, to-day,
With love for Blue and Gray,
Dead is all hate to-day;

God bless them all!

— Welle sky Bradshaw.

No nobler emotion can fill the breast of any man than that which
prompts him to utter honest praise of an adversary whose convictions
and opinions are at war with his own; and where is there a Confederate
soldier in our land who has not felt a thrill of generous admiration and
applause for the pre-eminent heroism of the gallant Federal admiral
who lashed himself to the mainmast, while the tattered sails and frayed
cordage of his vessel were being shot away by piecemeal above his
head, and slowly but surely picked his way through sunken reefs of
torpedoes, whose destructive powers consigned many of his luckless
comrades to watery graves? The fame of such men as Farragut, Stan-
ley, Hood, and Lee, and the hundreds of private soldiers, who were



220 MANUAL OF PATRIOTISM.

the true heroes of the war, belongs to no clime or section, but is the
common property of mankind. They were all cast in the same grand
mould of self-sacrificing patriotism, and I intend to teach my children
to revere their names as long as the love of country is respected as a
noble sentiment in the human breast. — Lawrence Sullivan Ross.

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.

By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the one, the Blue;

Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,

Those in the gloom of defeat;
All with the battle-blood gory,

In the dusk of eternity meet;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours,

The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers,

Alike for the friends and the foe.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;

Under the lilies, the Gray.

So, with an equal splendor,

The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,

On the blossoms blooming for all.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue;

Mellowed with gold, the Gray.



THE FLAG HALLOWS MEMORIAL DAY. 2 2I

So, when the summer calleth,

On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth

The cooling drip of the rain;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;

Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,

The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading

No braver battle was won.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;

Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war-cry sever,

Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever

When they laurel the graves of our dead.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue;

Tears and love for the Gray.

— Francis M. Finch.

As to the kind of preparation which sound policy dictates, the
navy, most certainly, in any point of view, occupies the first place. It
is the safest, most effectual, and cheapest mode of defense. If the force
be the safest and most efficient, which is at the same time the cheapest,
on that should be our principal reliance. We have heard much of the
danger of standing armies to our liberties. The objection cannot be
made to the navy. Generals, it must be acknowledged, have often



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