Charles Rufus Skinner.

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

. (page 14 of 31)
Online LibraryCharles Rufus SkinnerManual of patriotism : for use in the public schools of the State of New York → online text (page 14 of 31)
Font size
QR-code for this ebook

advanced at the head of armies to imperial rank; but in what instance
has an admiral usurped the liberties of his country? Put our strength
in the navy for foreign defense and we shall certainly escape the whole
catalogue of possible evils painted by gentlemen on the other side.


If anything can preserve the country in its most imminent dangers
from abroad, it is this species of armament. If we desire to be free
from future wars (as I hope we may be), this is the only way to effect
it. We shall have peace then, and, what is of still higher moment, peace
with perfect security. — John C. Calhoun.


By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,

And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their dead redeem,

When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare

To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare

The shaft we raise to them and thee.

— Ralph Waldo Emerson.

No praise can be too great for the American volunteers, who passed
through days of battle, enduring fatigue without a murmur, always in
the right place at the right time, and emerging from the fiery ordeal
a compact body of veterans, equal to any task that brave and disci-
plined men can be called upon to undertake. — Gen. George McClellan.

General Grant said: " We did our work as well as we could, and
so did thousands of others. What saved the Union was the coming
forward of the young men of the nation. They came from their homes
and fields, as they did in the time of the Revolution. The humblest
soldier who carried a musket is entitled to as much credit as those
who were in command. So long as our young men are animated by
this spirit, there will be no fear for the Union."



The man who wears the shoulder straps

And has his sword in hand,
Who proudly strides along in front,

Looks good, and brave, and grand;
But, back there in the ranks somewhere,—

Just which I cannot see, —
With his gun upon his shoulder, is

The soldier boy for me!

The man who wears the shoulder straps

Is handsome, brave, and true,
But there are other handsome boys,

And other brave ones, too!
When there are heights that must be won

While bullets fill the air,
'Tis not the ofrker alone

Who braves the dangers there.

The man who wears the shoulder straps

Is cheered along the way,
And public honor dulls his dread

Of falling in the fray;
But there behind him in the ranks,

And moving like a part
Of some machine, is many a man

With just as brave a heart.

The man who wears the shoulder straps

Deserves the people's praise;
I honor and applaud him for

The noble part he plays;
But, back there in the ranks somewhere,

Stout-hearted, is he, —
Prepared to do, and nerved to dare, —

The soldier boy for me!

— i\ E. Kiser.





A cheer and salute for the admiral, and here's to the captain bold,

And never forget the commodore's debt when the deeds of might are told!

They stand to the deck thro' the battle's wreck, when the great shells roar and

screech, —
And never they fear when the foe is near to practise what they preach;
But off with your hat, and three times three for Columbia's true-blue sons, —
The men below, who batter the foe, — the men behind the guns!

The steel decks rock with the lightning shock, and shake with the great recoil,
And the sea grows red with the blood of the dead and reaches for its spoil, —
Tut not till the foe has gone below, or turns his prow and runs.
Shall the voice of peace bring sweet release to the men behind the guns!

— lohn James Rooney.

At Grant's tomb, when speaking of the perils, the services, and
the heroism of the men who made up the Union armies. President Mc-
Kinley put the matter none too strongly when he said: "What is
true patriotism? It is an absolute consecration to country. It is an
abandonment of business; it is turning away from cherished plans,
which have been fondly formed for a life's career; it is the surrendering
of bright prospects and the giving up of ambition in a chosen work;
it is the sundering of ties of blood and family and almost snapping of
the heartstrings which bind us to those we love; it is the surrendering
of ourselves absolutely to the demands of country; it may mean dis-
ease; it may mean imprisonment, insanity or death; it may mean hunger,
thirst, and starvation. In our Civil War it meant all these."

The captains and the armies who brought to a close the Civil War
have left us more than a reunited realm. The material effect of what
they did is shown in the fact that the same flag flies from the Great
Lakes to the Rio Grande, and all the people of the United States are
richer because they are one people and not many, because they belong
to one great nation, and not to a contemptible knot of struggling
nationalities. But beside this, beside the material results of the Civil
War, we are all, North and South, incalculably richer for its memories.


We are the richer for each grim campaign, for each hard-fought battle.
We are the richer for valor displayed by those who fought so valiantly
for the right, and by those who, no less valiantly, fought for what they
deemed the right. We have in us nobler capacities for what is great
and good, because of the infinite woe and suffering, and because of the
splendid ultimate triumph. — Theodore Roosevelt, in " American Ideals."


Oh, the roses we plucked for the blue
And the lilies we twined for the gray,

We have bound in a wreath,

And in silence beneath
Slumber our heroes to-day.

Over the new-turned sod

The sons of our fathers stand,
And the fierce old fight
Slips out of sight

In the clasp of a brother's hand.

For the old blood left a stain

That the new has washed away,
And the sons of those
That have faced as foes

Are marching together to-day.

Oh, the blood that our fathers gave!

Oh, the tide of our mothers' tears!
And the flow of red,
And the tears they shed,

Embittered a sea of years.

But the roses we plucked for the blue.

And the lilies we twined for the gray,
We have bound in a wreath,
And in glory beneath

Slumber our heroes to-day.

— Albert Bigeloiv Paine.




We have no standing army?

Nay, look around, and see!
The man who ploughs the furrow

The man who fells the tree,
The statesman and the scholar,

At the first word of fear
Turn to their country, breathing,

" My mother, I am here I "

Not of a dumb, blind people

Is this, our army, made;
Where schoolhouse and where steeple

Have cast their friendly shade
Our army grows in knowledge,

As it to manhood grows,
And, trained in school and college,

Stands ready for its foes.

The brawny arms of gunners

Serve minds alert and keen;
The sailor's thought has travelled

To lands he has not seen.
Not for the joy of killing,

Not for the lust of strife,
Have these come forth with gladness

To offer up their life.

Behold our standing army —

Not, as in other lands,
An army standing idle,

With empty minds and hands.
But each one in his station;

And peaceful victory
Is training for the nation

Heroes of land and sea.

— Margaret Vandegrift.

Mark Trafton, D.D.


John W. Tufts.

^— -^ r l> r— 1 , . i

f w




1/ ' r if i W'WI W~i/

i. Our martyred dead! On each low bed . . Green be the chap-let,fresh the ros -
2. Hail, he- ro shades! Your bat- tie blades A wall of steel our homes sur-round








N -

-A— fV




3. No mar-ble cold May guard your mold, . But living hearts a-round are swell - ing;

4. Yoursa-cred dust Be the choice trust . . Of Freedom's grateful sons and daugh - ters'-








a — I'-pi r '-




Our martyred dead ! On each low bed ... Green be thechap-let, fresh the ros - es:
Hail, he-ro shades! Your bat-tie blades A wall of steel our homes sur - round - ed ;


-A— A-

No mar-ble cold
Your sa-cred dust





Maymarkyour mold, But liv - ing hearts a - round are swell - ing;
Be the choice trust Of Free-dom's grate -ful sons and daugh - ters;


-v— v-





_j — r r3 h J N e

Oh, light-ly rest On each calm breast The turf where each in peace re - pos - es.
Yourdeeds have won From sire to son. . . Love,joy and grat - i - tude un - bound - ed.




Each dar-ing deed Shallgainthe meed Of praise from all hearts rich -ly well - ing.
While fu-ture days Yourfame shall raise From At-lan - tic's to Pa-cif-ic's wa - ters.


*5= tf 1 v — V-







By special permission Silver, Bip.dett & Co.



If those who win battles and save civilization are dear to the
hearts of men, how cherished will be the memory of the tenacious
soldier whom nothing could shake off from success.

Breaking up on the Rapidan in early May, Grant forced his fiery
way through the Wilderness and was called a butcher. By one of the
most masterly and daring of military movements, he forced the enemy
within their capital and was called incapable. " He'll do no more,"
shouted the exultant friends of the rebellion. They did not know the
man. Undismayed by delay, holding Richmond in both hands, he
ordered Thomas to annihilate Hood, and he did it; he ordered Terry
to take Fort Fisher, and he took it; he ordered Sheridan to sweep the
Shenandoah, and he swept it clean. The terror of Sherman's presence,
one hundred miles away, emptied Charleston of troops. Across
Georgia, across South Carolina into North Carolina, he moved, scourg-
ing the land with fire. Then the genius of the great commander, by
the tireless valor of his soldiers, lighted all along the line, burst over
the enemy's works, crushed his ranks, forced his retreat, and over-
whelmed Lee and his army. — George William Curtis.

By the sacrifice of the Union soldiers, some questions were settled^
never to be reopened, over which politicians, and statesmen, and philos-
ophers had wrangled a hundred years. No man will ever after this
claim that in politics a part is greater than the whole, or a state greater
than a nation, nor will any have the rashness to maintain that " E
Pluribus Unum " means many out of one.

The graves of 300,000 patriots are our witness to-day, that hence-
forth, from the pine forests of our cold northern border to the orange
groves of the gulf, from the great Atlantic metropolis of the Empire
State to the golden gates of the Pacific, the stars and stripes will brook
no rival. On every headstone of the graves decorated to-day may be
read, albeit in invisible characters, yet unfading as though written by
the hand of fate, " Liberty, Union, Equality;" " One Flag and One
Country." Such was their contribution to their country, to humanity,
to posterity. Do we not justly enroll their names among earth's bene-
factors, and garland their graves as those of heroes and martyrs? — -
Oscar D. Robinson.


At the battle of Mission Ridge, General Thomas was watching a
body of troops painfully pushing their way up a steep hill against a
withering fire. Victory seemed impossible, and the General, even he,
that rock of valor and patriotism, exclaimed, " They can't do it! They
will never reach the top." His chief of staff, watching the struggle with
equal earnestness, said softly, "Time, time, General; give them time;"
and presently the moist eyes of the brave leader saw his soldiers victo-
rious upon the summit. They were American soldiers — so are we.
They were fighting an American battle — so are we. They were climb-
ing a height — so are we. Give us time, and we, too, shall triumph. —
George William Curtis.

" Did you hear that fearful scream? " asked a Union soldier of his
comrade in the early days of the Civil War, as they pressed on in the
deadly assault up the bloody slope. " Yes; what is it? " " It is the Rebel
yell. Does it frighten you? " " Frighten me! " said the young soldier,
as he pressed more eagerly forward, " Frighten me! " it is the music to
which I march! " And they planted the starry flag of victory upon the
enemy's rampart.

When the enemy's yell is the music to which the soldier marches,
he marches to victory. Patience then, and forward. — George William


We may not know

How red the lilies of the spring shall grow;

What silver flood,

Sea streaming, take the crimson tints of blood.

We may not know

If victory shall make the bugles blow;

If still shall wave

The flag above our freedom or our grave.

We only know

One heart, one hand, one country, meet the foe;

On land and sea

Her liegemen in the battle of the free.

— Frank L. Stanton.


The shot which the embattled farmers fired at Lexington echoed
" round the world," and produced most of those revolutions in all lands
by which power has fallen from the throne and been gained by the peo-
ple. It was the echo of that shot which in 1861 aroused the national
spirit to the protection of the national life, and while Lexington
founded the Republic, the memory of Lexington preserved it. —
Chauncey Mitchell Depew.


How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy ringers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there.

— William Collins.

The great Civil War was remarkable for the inventive mechanical
genius and the resolute daring shown by the combatants. This was
especially true of the navy. The torpedo boat managed by W. B.
Cushing against the Confederate ram, Albemarle, was an open launch,
with a spar rigged out in front, the torpedo being placed at the end.
The crew consisted of fifteen men. Cushing not only guided his craft,
but himself handled the torpedo by means of two small ropes, one of
which put it in place, while the other exploded it. Cushing possessed
reckless courage, presence of mind, and high ability. On the night of
October 2,7, 1864, ne left the Federal fleet, steamed a dozen miles up
river, where the great ram lay under the guns of the fort, with a regi-
ment of guns to defend her. He was almost upon her before he was
discovered. The rifle balls were singing about him, and he heard the
noise of the great guns as they got ready. Still erect in his little craft,


he brought the torpedo full against the side of the huge ram and ex-
ploded it just as the pivot gun of the ram was fired at him not ten yards
off. At once the ram settled, the launch sinking at the same time,
while Cushing and his men swam for their lives. — Adapted from Theo-
dore Roosevelt.

Tears for the slave, when Nature's gift

Of all that man can be
Wastes, like the scattered spars that drift

Upon the unknown sea.
Tears when the craven sinks at last,

No deed of valor done;
But no tears for the soul that passed

When Honor's fight was won.

He takes the hand of heavenly fate

Who lives and dies for truth.
For him the holy angels wait,

In realms of endless youth.
The grass upon his grave is green

With everlasting bloom;
And love and glory make the sheen

Of glory round his tomb.

— William Winter.

The American Republic was established by the united valor and
wisdom of the lovers of liberty from all lands. The Frenchman, with
his gay disregard of danger, the German with his steady courage, the
Pole with his high enthusiasm, and the Irishman with all these quali-
ties combined, were here in the long and bloody struggle for inde-
pendence. Lafayette, the beloved of Washington; Hamilton, who rode
by his side, and assisted to organize the government; Pulaski, Mont-
gomery, Steuben, all were born under alien skies, and came to the ban-
quet of battle and of death because of their love for human freedom.
At every subsequent period of American history the foreign-born citi-
zen, in council and in the field, has been faithful to the common cause
of liberty. — Daniel IV. Voorhees.



Eight volunteers! on an errand of death!

Eight men! Who speaks?
Eight men to go where the cannon's hot breath

Burns black the cheeks.
Eight men to man the old Merrimac's hulk;
Eight men to sink the old steamer's black bulk,
Blockade the channel where Spanish ships skulk —

Eight men! Who speaks?

"Eight volunteers!" said the Admiral's flags!

Eight men! Who speaks?
Who will sail under El Morro's black crags —

Sure death he seeks?
Who is there willing to offer his life?
Willing to march to this music of strife —
Cannon for drum and torpedo for fife?

Eight men! Who speaks?

Eight volunteers! on an errand of death!

Eight men! Who speaks?
Was there a man who in fear held his breath?

With fear-paled cheeks?
From ev'ry warship ascended a cheer!
From ev'ry sailor's lips burst the word "Here!"
Four thousand heroes their lives volunteer!

Eight men! Who speaks?

— Lansing C. Bailey.

In the midst of other cares, however important, we must not lose
sight of the fact that the war power is still our main reliance. Our
chiefest care must still be directed to the army and navy, who have
thus far borne their harder part so nobly and well. And it may be
esteemed fortunate that, in giving the greatest efficiency to these indrs-
pensable arms, we do also honorably recognize the gallant men, from
commander to sentinel, who compose them, and to whom, more than
to others, the world must stand indebted for the home of freedom,
disenthralled, regenerated, enlarged, and perpetuated. — Abraham Lin-



The heart so leal and the hand of steel

Are palsied aye for strife,
But the noble deed, and the patriot's meed

Are left of the soldier's life.

The bugle call and the battle ball

Again shall rouse him never;
He fought and fell, he served us well;

His furlough lasts forever.

— Samuel P. Merrill.

" We bring, O brothers of the North, the message of fellowship
and love. This message comes from consecrated ground. All around
my native home are the hills down which the gray flag fluttered to
defeat, and through which the American soldiers from both sides
charged like demi-gods. I could not bring a false message from those
old hills, witnesses to-day, in their peace and tranquility, of the imper-
ishable union of the American States, and the indestructible brother-
hood of the American people." — Henry W. Grady, in New York.

At Gettysburg, the world witnessed a battle-field disfigured by no
littleness and spoiled by no treachery. So long as the world lasts men
will differ about the best strategy in war, and concerning the wisdom
of commanders and the quality of their generalship. But no criticism,
however clever, can at all belittle the supreme glory of this day and
field. Here the world saw a great army confronted with a great crisis,
and dealing with it in a great way. Here all lesser jealousies and rival-
ries disappeared in the one supreme rivalry how each one should best
serve his country, and, if need be, die for her. — Henry C. Potter.

To be cold and breathless, to feel not and speak not; this is not
the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into
the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters
on the pillars of the age, who have poured their heart's blood into
the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods
of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not
pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his



ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with
the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye?
Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon,
is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house? That
which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that
traced the charter of independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent
lips that sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived,
resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men " make it
life to live," these cannot expire:

These shall resist the empire of decay,
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away;
Ccld in the dust the perished heart may lie,
But that which warmed it once can never die.

— Edward Everett.

Whiter, for the fires that strove to blacken and blast its fame;
purer, for the blood that watered its base; stronger, for the tramp of
armed men around its assaulted portals, — we, now and here, rejoice
in the rescued temple of our liberties. The credit and glory of the
undesecrated walls of that temple and of its unmoved foundations are
due to the work and hardships of the American soldier. It was their
service which made us to-day fellow-citizens enjoying the same rights,
the same chances, the same incalculable career, whether we hail from
the East or from the West, from the North or from the South. Honor
then to the American soldier now and ever! Honor him in sermon and
speech! Honor him in sonnet, stanza, and epic! Honor him in the
unwasting forms by which art seeks to prolong his well-earned fame!
Honor the volunteer soldier, who, when his work of devastation and
death was ended, put aside his armor, melting into the sea of citizen-
ship, making no ripple of disturbance upon its surface! Honor the
citizen soldier of America, who never knew the feeling of vindictiveness
or revenge ! — John L. Swift.

To-day the nation looks back and thanks God that, in a great
crisis, the children whom it had nurtured in peace and prosperity sud-
denly showed the stuff of heroes; they were not afraid to dare and to


die when the bugle rang clear across the quiet fields. Whenever and
however duty called, they answered with their lives. Let the nation
thank God that it still breeds the men who make life great by service
and sacrifice; that time and work and pleasure anc, wealth have not
sapped the sources of its inward strength; that it still knows how to
dare all and do all in that hour when manhood alone counts and
achieves. — The Outlook.

On a beautiful May Day more than thirty years ago, there gath-
ered beneath the overhanging boughs of a fruit-bearing tree, beside an
open grave, the friends and kinsmen of one who, though a mere boy,
had smelled the smoke of battle, felt the sting of rebel lead and won
for himself the golden crown of martyrdom in the military service of
his country. There were also gathered there a few of his old compan-
ions in arms — bronzed veterans — survivors of the dreadful carnage
at Malvern Hill and the awful slaughter of Gettysburg, who had come
to drop a tear at a comrade's grave and breathe a prayer for the safety
of his soul. Just as the solemn rites of burial were over and the last
shovelful of earth had been heaped upon his last resting-place, God's
breath shook the overhanging boughs and sweet and beautiful apple
blossoms came gently down and decorated that young hero's grave;
and ever since, when the pleasant days and fragrant flowers of spring
come, the loyal people of this country gladly follow the example Heaven
so graciously set and see to it that no veteran's grave is neglected. —
From a Memorial Day address of Col. Anson S. Wood, Commander
Department of New York, Grand Army of the Republic.

Look to your history, — that part of it which the world knows by
heart, and you will find on its brightest page the glorious achieve-

Online LibraryCharles Rufus SkinnerManual of patriotism : for use in the public schools of the State of New York → online text (page 14 of 31)