Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1893-05-30

DIR. GEORGE L. SPINNING.
terrific battles Of the war noticed q blue coat
sleeve and a hand protruding from a grave.
1t was tender appeal and farewell. A voice
came to me from that grave saying: Forget
not!' Never did Israel in Babylon bow more
Loyalty than I, saying: "1f forget thee let my
right hand lose its cunning"
This Memorial day is to this land and nation
hand OF memory, representing 500, 000 COM
rades.
There was q time when the shadow of death
fell on the land of Egypt, when Israel was de-
livered by the mighty hand Of God. To forget
that deiveraEce was crime. An anniversary
was instituted for the observance and education
OF coming generations. That was 1000 years
ago. and still tho Jews observe it. There are
some things in our national history we dare not
forget without being guilty Of a treason that is
execrable and doubly damned-treason to the
memory of BOO, 600 loyal, martyred dead.
This day, therefore. we devote to them. The
ancient Greeks and Romans built temples to
Vesta. the goddess Of the family. and the state,
considered as larger family. In the heart of
Rome her ancient temple may still be seen.
There burned the sacred and perpetual fire,
ministered to by chaste and beautiful vestal
virgins. Once year in solemn procession they
entered her temple, purified and repienished
the sacred flame.
OUR LOYAL DEAD
public than any mythical goddess ever did
for Rome. The grand temple to their memory
is the unbroken fabric of a union whose base is
a continent and whose dome towers among the
stars The sacred fires which we dare not let
die is their memory, and in this the day of SOL
emn procession to the affairs Of patriotism we
come as true-hearted patriots to repIenish the
sacred flame. This not an anniversary day.
We come not here to triumph over a fallen
have sounded in the days when the land
trembled with the shock of bursting guns
il We had said to those who be-
came the breastwork of liberty: go
forth into the cloud Of deadly hail, achieve
our freedom. starve in the prison pen, agonize
in the hospital, die on the battlefield; when
your wives are wido wed, your children father
less we have grown rich from golden harvests
springing from your graves and from a soil
watered with your blood. then in a craven
charity for the feelings Of the foe from whom
you defended US and by whose hand you fell
we will not even cast a flower Of remembrance
on your graves" We will whisper of MUIR
dered Lincoln. expurgate the literature in
which Americas proudest heroisn is recorded
write history with no personal mention. raZe TO
the earth our soldiers monuments, burn your
battle flags, whitewnsh Andersonville, and as
kindly nature weaves vioiets and forget-me-
nots into the green and lowly tents under which
300 900 warriors rest pass them with no recog-
milton, treat our hOllest impulses as serpent9
and strangle them at birth.
There Is not q soldiery heart on this CONT
nent, whether 1t once beat under the blue or
the gray, that does not instinctively damn such
treason as this. We need this day and We need
our dead. The great truths for which they
died must pass into our lives and into the life
of the nation, and be transmitted into deeds of
heroism in working out the problem Of national
destiny, indicating the principles Of law and
government embodied in our national consti-
tuition.
WHAT OUR FLAG MEANS.
Our flag. for which they died. means that no
form of human slavery is tolerated by law. By
our legislative enactments there must be no
class legislation or class exemptions such
will stultify us in the eyes Of the world and
make our flag Haunting lie. The war taught
us that class legislation was almost a fatal ex-
pertinent.
1t is said that in one of the battles Of the
wilderness that when the nations life depended
upon a single battle and a single brigade that
brigade, without leader and riddled with bull
lets, wavered for a moment, preparatory to a
crisis, there suddenly appeared in the front
rank an old man. with white hair, who, with
fintlock musket. stood his ground loading and
firing. The sight of him rallied the brigade.
With n deafering cheer the brigade charged
and swept the field like tempest. May such
be the mission of this Memorial day to our be-
loved nation IN all its conflicts for liberty, for
humanity and for God.
The poet of the day at Congressional GENE.
terry was Thomas Calver. His production, en-
titled 1.-The Soldier Sleeps" was as follows:
The Soldier Sleeps.
He sleeps the soldier sleeps no more
To wake at break of day
To hear the morn ny guns glad roar
No more to hear til bugle note
Borne on the waking breeze.
Or see the smoke from camphres float
Above the arching trees.
Nomo-e to breathe the incense sweet
From sold ers' homely fare.
As busy hands and hurried feet
The morning meal prepare;
No more the breakfast call to hail
~ WITH nth,n merry e, agi r., and ia jest,
From those he loved the best.
Its lovely folds un:nri
Against the sky's soft amber light
And clouds of gold and pearl;
No more at mounting of the guard
Or reap the morn reliefs ward
The weary sentry's thanks.
No more to pass the long. long day
On lonely picket post,
Where oft the bushes. far away,
seen an advancing host
With dreams DER fragrant apo
Or plucking dear. familiar flowers.
Or luscious berries ripe.
No more the campfre's genial glow
At eventide to seek.
Where tales of love and Joy and woe
1ne laugh or tear DcSpeak;
Or as the blackened brerwood bowl
us cheering vspor oreathes,
Along the heecy wreaths
He sleeps. the soldier sleeps. no more
To waken to the fray,
The lannon's loud defiant roar.
The bugie's blatant bray.
The shout Of sentries, rushing in,
The long roll of the drum,
The shells wild scream and horrid din
The bullets deadly hum.
The battle line. the cleaning steel,
The voley's binding FASH
The charge. the stricken comrades reel.
The venzeful forward dash.
The grandeur Of the serr}ed rank
As DER the field it sweeps
Tie struggle ON the breastworks' bank
For, To- tie soldier sleeps.
Sweet be his sleep. for all he had
HIS life-he freely
That DER a land with peace made glad
The flag he loved might wave;
And while his grave the chaplet bears
Above its lowly sod.
The crown of daty done he wears
Before the throne oil God
Grafton by j. Madison Cults.
At the exercises at Battle cemetery this after
noon J. Madison Cuts delivered the grafton of
the day. as follows:
Comrades and Friends: The blind Milton,
although divinely gifted, before recounting in
heroic and immortal verse the story of Para
disc Lost invoked heavenly inspiration and the
aid of the All-powerful and All-wise Ruler Of