The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1876-10-05
20. tell You to-" Laughter.] In the
Republican party there are no followers.
We are all leaders [Cheers. There is

lash. Any man that does not love this
country, any man that does not love lib
erty, any man that is not in favor of hu-
man progress, that is not in favor of Civ
ing to others all he claims for himself,
we don't ask him to vote the Republican
ticket. [Cheers. You can vote it if you
please and if there is any Democrat
who expects to die before another cleo
ton, we are willing that he should vote
one Republican ticket, simply as a con-
ISOLATION upon his death-bed. TGreat
laughter.
Free labor, love, affection-they have
invented everything or IN tho -re.la.
[Cheers. I am o Republican. I tell
you, my friends, the world is getting
better every day, and the Democratic
party is getting smaller every day. We
have got the first free country that ever
existed And right here want to thank
| every soldier that fought to make it free
Cries of "Good, "Good," and cheers
| every one, living and dead. l thank you
ulu again stiltt Ss3itlu.
AN ELOQUENT PASSAGE.
The past rises before me like dream.
Again we are in the great struggle for
national life. We hear the sounds of
preparation-the music of the boisterous
drums-tho silver voices of heroic bug
les. We see thousands of assemblages,
and hear the appeals of orators We see
the pale cheeks of women, and the flush
| ed faces of men and in those assemble.
| ges we see all the men whose dust we
/ have covered with flowers. We lose
sight of them no more. We are with
them when they enlist in the great army
| of freedom. We see them part with
those they love. Some are walking for
the last time in quiet woody places with
the maidens they adore. we hear the
whisperings and the sweet VOWS of love
as they lingerlngly part forever. Others
are bending over cradles, kissing babies
that are asleep. Some are receiving the
blessings of old men. Some are parting
with mothers who hold them and press
them to their hearts again and again, and
say nothing and some are talking with
wives, and endeavoring with brave words
spoken in the old tones to drive from
their hearts the awful fear We see
| them part. We see them standing in the
door, with the babe in her arms-stand-
ing in the sunlight sobbing +; at the turn
OF the road hand waves-she answers
by holding high in her loving hands the
child. He is gone, and forever.
We see them as they march proudly
away under the Haunting flags, keeping
time to the wild, grand music of war
marching down the streets of the great
cities-through the towns and across
the prairies-down to the fields of glory,
to do and to die for the eternal right.
We go with them one and all. We are
by their sides on the cory felds-in all
the hospitals of pain-on all the weary
marches. We stand guard with them
in the wild storm and under the quiet
stars. We are with them in ravines run
ming with blood-in the burrows of old
fields. We are with them between con-
tending hosts, unable to move, wild with
thirst, the life ebbing slowly away among
the withered leaves. We see them pierc-
ed by balls and torn with shells in the
trenches by forts, and in the whirlwinds
of the charge. where men become iron
with nerves of steel.
We are with them in the prisons of
hatred and famine. but human speech
can never tell what they endured.
We are at home when the news comes
that they are dead. We see the maiden
in the shadow of her first sorrow. We
see the silvered head of the old man
bowed with the last grief.
/ The past rises before us, and we see
four millions of human beings governed
by the lash-we see them bound hand
and foot-we hear the strokes of cruel
whips-we see the hounds tracking wo-
men through tangled swamps. We see
babes sold from the breasts of mothers.
Cruelty unspeakable Outrage infinite
Four million bodies in chains--four
million souls in fetters. All the sacred
relations of wife, mother, father, and
child trampled beneath the brutal feet
of might And all this was done under
opr own beautiful banner of the free.
The past rises before US. We hear
the roar and shrek Of the bursting SHE'LL
| The broken fetters fall. These heroes
died. We look. Instead of slaves we
see men and women and children. The
wand of progress touches the auction
] block, the slave-pen, the whipping post,
and we see homes ana fresiles and
school-houses and books, and where all
was want and crime and cruelty and fet-
| ters we see the faces of the free.
Those heroes are dead. They died
for hberty-they died for US. They sleep
| in the land they made flee, under the
flag they rendered stainless, under the
solemn pines, the sad hemlocks, the
fearful willows, and the embracing vines.
They sleep beneath the shadows of the
clouds, careless alike of the sunshine or
Gf storm, each in the windowless palace
/ of rest. Earth May run Fed With other
wars-they are at peace. In the midst
of battle, in the roar of conflict, they
found the serenity of death. A voice
''Glory."1 have one sentiment Tor the
| solaiers living and dead-cheers for the
i &nn. L.. H. 4