The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1882-05-25


perhaps fell by his side? How great his
grief then, when something down the
soldiers cheek washed off the stains ol
powder" How high his privilege now wher
the wand Of peace is waving wide through
sea and land; now, when no war or battle
sound is heard; now, when the idle shield
and spear are high up hung, and the broken
chariot stands .,unstained by the soldiers
blood, to stand around
THE MONUMENT
which rises here 10 commemorate our love
for the memory Of the fallen braves.
You know, my fellow-citizens. our tat
tered, dusty ensigns no longer wave DER
victorious fields You know over the
graves OF our soldiers no triumphal banners
rise; but above them-yea, above them
shall Z" increasingly roll all the glory OF the
heavens" and 10y them shall "pass forever
the grandly glorious procession OF the
neyer-ending seasons"
When those Of you here to-day shall have
answered to your final roll-call the eyes OF
generations yet unborn will greet this good
work OF yours, and, with inherited fire,
will flash when, touched by the hand OF
memory, they are told they are the descend
ants Of the men who fought upon the side
OF the South in the war between the States.
Your participation, ladies and gentle
men, in these scenes should strike no dis
cordant string i'm the hearts OF true men,
whether in sympathy for those who fought
for the Federal blue or died to maintain
the Confederate gray. | invoke the bless
ing OF Heaven upon this conSecrated work
OF your hands, and in the lamentation OF
David over Saul and Jonathan will eX-
claim: "Thc beauty OF Israel il slain upon
thy high places. How are the mighty
fallen!
The symphony Of grand past is indeed
heard when
THE HAND OF MEMORY
sweeps over such golden strings. The
living soldier in thus honoring the memory
Of trusted comrades honOrs himself, and
pays true tribute to those who have in
deed "fought their lust battle" because
"no sound can ever awake them to glory
again." Oh sleeping Confedcrates, it
may be that no towering monumental
shafts rear their lofty spires toward Heaven
in cOmmemOration Of your name and fame.
Bounteous treasures are not expended by
the nation to guard your solemn resting
places. The loving mantle OF govern
mental authority does not spread its
capaciouS folds over your remains, but
we, your comrades, know you were true to
your commanders, true to your colors, II tie
to your country, true to your cause, and
we ask for you no epitaph more glorious
than " Here lies a Confederate soldier irhO
fell as q fireman." As he fell with his face
to the foe and his musket in his hand,
TIE True MAKTYR
OF the fight, his companions may have
swept on to victory, as the best means OF
protecting the spot where he fell-this
"SOnebody'S ddriinq!" Private soldier
though he may have been, buried in Il
namcless grave, sleeping beneath a simple
wooden board, he was
Somebody's darling. so young and so brave,
Wearing siiil on his sweet. pale face,
Soon TO be hid In the dust Of the grave,
The lingering light Of his bOyhoOd's grace.
General Lee repeated this whole Poem
with fine effect, and many eyes were
dimmed with tears.
II Scotland's plaided soldier can
find music in his bag-pipe as he chants the
slogan OF victory; if the son Of the noun
tain land OF Tell, who yet disdains the cap
OF Gesser, winds through his mellow
horn with patriotic pride his "Randes
Nachc": il along the yine-clad hills OF
the Rhine and the sunny banks Of the
smiling Seine the Frcnchman goes wild
under the magic of his " Marseillaise -; if
"God save the Queen" is the part Of staid
old England, may we not, too, worship the
genius that inspired our
"LAND OF DIxIE?"
Ave, il the thistle OF old Caledonia is
worshipped with Calyinistic devotion, as il
waves upon the verge OF Ben LomOnd cr
casts its shadows IN the Clyde; ii the red
cross OF st. George had its staff over the
palace Of st. james, upheld by the British
lion. while its folds, that flutter in every
breeze. is the boast Of hcraldry and the
pride Of power; ii the Ottoman bows be-
fore the crescent with an eastern idolatry
as il floats over the BoSphoruS and around
the Golden Horn; il the young eagles Of
France are fledgcd under their feUr-de-liS,
and step beneath it, folds with an historic
pride, may we not, too, look back with
purcSt emotions and remember with the
sweetest and saddest affections the cross OF
II. Andrew with its stars and bars as il
waved in triumph over hundred battle
fields and was baptized in the best blood OF
the land ere II became the conquered
banner" immortalized in verse by the in
spired pen cf our own poet, Father Ryan
Turl that banner. true Ms CORY.
Yet lis wrcathed around with glory.
And Twill live in song and story
Though its folds are In the dust.
Ave, II is holy. Holy! because beneath
its futtering folds fought
THE SONS OF THE SOUTH.
HOLY! because it was planted amid the
whirlwind Of shot and shell upon many a
victorious battlcment by the yalOr OF south
ern troops before il was furled forever.
HOLY! because the men who fought with
Lee and Jackson wreathed it around with
glory. Holy because it was once the ban
ner OF the soldier whose heart snapped
from the woes Of his people, and who rode
into the presence OF his Maker with not one
blot upon his knightly shield. Holy be-
cause IT moved steady upon the crested
front Of the heaying billows Of death at the
command Of this soldier right here at Rich
mond.
Once more. Holy to me, be-
cause whenever in my dreams | hear the
measured tread Of phantom cavalry, and
fancy see them, so solid, so stln, so spec
trail. rs in column OF fours, boot to boot,
with cold hands clasping rigid sabres, they
noiselessly ride 5y, at their head, proudly
stepping with arched neck and royal bear
ing, / always see the black horse OF their
leader and on his back
THE PRINCE OF CAVALIERS.
As recall the heavy Mexican spurs that
Jingle upon the riding-boots, the French
sabre swinging so quietly by his side, the
.sfghting jacket" buttoned back, the
dropping hat and black feather, the strong
figure and big brown beard, the piercing
laughing blue eye, know before me ride
the commander Of the cavalry OF Northern
Misunderstanding j. T.. Il. Stuart.
.. Love it. 1t was bathed In Tho
life blood OF this cayalryman at Yellow
l i..lnnAAn1 IlI