Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1880-06-02
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The, GRAFTON.
Delivered by n. ~. Heath,
ESQ.,, in Granite HALL.


ESQ, in Granite HALL.
i Nineteen years ago the Sixth Massachu-
sets Regiment was marching through the
streets of Baltimore; fired upon BY the rebel
populace, three of its members fell welterng
in blood in the streets Of that city. On re-
ceipt of the news, Gov. John A. Andrew, that
noble man. who had the heart of woman
and the courage ofalion. telegraphed in reply
.Send them to us tenderly.' The spirit of
that telegram has given birth to these SER
vices, and in commemoration Of the death of
three hundred thousand brave men, this Gus
tom has arisen.
Customs are photographs of national life.
We come in imitation of an impressive Athe
nian custom,-a custom hallowed by time,
born in that City Of Philosophers, that en-
bellished ancient Greece, and beautifed aD
all that is noble in mankind. Percles, her.
son. said at is debt of justice to pay supe-
rior honOrs to those who had devoted their
lives in fighting for their country Pagans
they were, but worshippers of the lofty emo
tions of the soul. Marathon, to them, was
living reality the heroes Of that glorious
battle ground we're demi- gods. Yearly their
funeral urns blossomed with offerings fresh
from the lap of bounteous Nature. Such SER
vices are the ins .inct Of greatness.
To-day, silence is golden; tributes Of
speech empty, hollow, unworthy. Upon their
graves lies the narcissus, the flower Of quiet
sleep, and glowing from its petals, the hya
cinth-to bloom immortal. Fifteen times the
falling snow has blarketed their sleeping
forms. Fifteen times the springing blades of
grass, lifting heavenward, have typified their
resurrection.
In the silent city of the dead, you have de-
posted your tributes of love and grateful re-
membrance. The memory of your fallen
heroes lives in your hearts. as fresh and green
as though it were yesterday. Old wounds
are bleeding. The burning iron Of time can
not cauterize them. A nation weeps. With
solemn tread, they come. Down from the
golden slope Of the Pacific, across the rolling
prairies Of the imperial West, along the iron
bound coasts of New England, countless
thousands wend their way to that Mecca Of
American freemCn, a soldiers grave. Stand
uncovered! Royalty sleeps beneath that
grassy mound, for every American citizen is
King Earthly mausOleums, they contain all
that is mortal of Kings that died, my friends,
for you We love them, we bless them, we
reverence their sacrifice.
To-day, the mystic chords Of memory
stretch from Northern homes to Southern
battleficlds Some died beneath the burning
sun of the Peninsula when Mcclellan was
crashing at the walls Of Richmond and North
ern hearts grew faint amid disaster. The bat
tie over, the roll was called and many
mother mourned her son lying at Fair Oaks
or Malvern Hill, his face upturned to the
God of battles, his old blue coat his only
shrond his soul with God. Some fell at
Antietam, when with impetuous power the
massive columns thundered in that charge
1 Al 1@1 [,r~ &c
Lodi. Victors and vanquished that night
slept the sleep of death beneath the stars.
Your Maine heroes were there; steady and
true, they did their duty well. Some at
Fredericksburg. All day long they charged
up the burning mari, and Maine was there.
Fathers fell upon that terrible feld sons lay
down to wake in heaveri. Keeling and bro
KEN their columns fell back and around TIE
bivouac that night many comrade was miss
ing. Loving hands ministered to the wants
of suffering ones, as the life blood ebbed
away and the failing voice sent messages Of
love to the dear ones in the far away North
ern home.
"The groan the tear the knell, the pail, the bier,
| And all we know. or dream, or fear
| Of agony are thine"
| Some fell at the triple struggle at Gettys-
burg, and Maine was in the thickest of the
fray. An day long her sons battled with the
hosts Of rebeldom. With the rising sun each
dav her hardy veterans renewed the fearful
conflict. Baffied and beaten, sullen and
sore the traitorous hosts fell back. no more
to desecrate our Northern land. The brooks
ran red with blood. They died, generals
and privates. Only privates. Yes. only pri-
Yates, but every private was somebody's SON.
| Some mother loved him. some wife waited
his coming, but in vain. Some fell at
| Vicksburg, perchance as day after day. the
coils wound closer and closer around the ia
ted citadel. Some in the Wilderness; be-
meath the trees, Gods sylvan temples, they
fell, a sacrifice, by whose side historic tales
fade into nothingness. Perhaps some lived
to see the glory Of Appofnattox, when Lee
and his thousands once again swore allegiance
to the flag of Washington. and with a spirit
of maguaninlity, unparalleled in history
were allowed to return to the pursuits of
peace. Some were there that day; they
lived only to die in loving arms at home.
You, their comrades. are here to call the roll
and number the missing. Upon the graves of
many your offerings lie; but many sleep
beneath Southern sun, uncoffined save by
the blanket in which Won laid them ten
derly. The story of their sacrifice is an epit-
ONE of the war. from the disastrous blow at
Bull Run to the triumphant p@ans that
| sOuUutu Wucu iudiSHtu NUN AZ
Iania tc the sea.
I What brought them here? What was the
issue, when brothers met in deadly combat ?
1t was a contest between an earlier and later
civilization. The history of liberty is written
in letters of blood. Centuries before Christ
it began in Pagan India; priesthood against
the people, the people against the aristscrats.
The people failed; the star of liberty sank in
an ocean Of despair, and the dark shades of
tyranny clouded the growth Of Eastern civil
lization. The pages of Roman history are
but the annals of . constant struggle of the
people for enlarged liberty. The patricians
against the plebeians. Concession after con-
cession was wrung from the reluctant nobili-
ty.. But the Empire came, and Rome fell
from her pinnacle of glory to he dashed
to pieces upon the rocks of imperial corrup-
ton In England, Cromwell the man, at
Naseby fought the peoples cause; but Crom-
we'll. the Protector, ,throttledth the sucking child
of liberty, and monarchy seized the estate
and took letters of administration without
probate
i The cause of popular rights slumbered; but
on this grand continent of the west, it grew
and waxed strong. The booming guns at
Sumter struck at the heart of the peoples
cause. To every American heart came the
lquestion, Shall AbeTty tsiamph. or shall the
people of the world lose oil hope? Has the