Evening star., 1902-02-27
A Life Typically American.

inadequate efforts to speak OF him worthily.
A Life Typically American.
The life Of William Mckinley was. from
his birth to his death, typically American.
There is no environment. should say. any,
where else in the world which could pro-
duce just such a character. He was born
into that way OF life which elsewhere Is
called the middle class, but which In this
country is so nearly universal as to make
OF other classes an almost negligible guam
tity. He was neither rich nor poor, neither
proud nor humble: he knew no hunger he
was not sure Of satisfying. no luxury which
could enerVate mind Of body. His parents
Were sober God-fearing people: intelligent
and upright without pretension and without
humility. He grew UP In the company OF
boys like himself; wholesome honest. self
respecting. They looked down on nobody;
they never felt 1t possible they could be
looked down upon. Their houses were the
homes of probity. pfety, patriotism They
learned In the admirable school readers OF
fifty years ago the lessons Of heroic and
the past. They read in their weekly newspa-
pers the story Of the worlds progress. In
which they were eager to take part, ana or
the sins of wrongs Of civilization with which
they burned to do battle. 1t was a serious
and thoughtful time. The boys Of that day
felt dimly. but deeply. that days Of sharp
struggle and high achievement were before
them. They looked at life with the wonder
ing yet resolute eyes Of a young esquire Ia
his vigil Of arms. They felt a time was COM
ing when to them should be addressed the
stern admonition Of the apostle, Quit you
like men; be strong"
1t is not easy to give to those OF later gen.
Grafton any clear idea of that extraordinary
spiritual awakening which passed over the
country at the first red signal fires OF the
war between the states. 1t was not our
earliest apocalypse; a hundred years be-
fore the nation had been revealed to itself,
when after long discussion and much
searching of heart the people OF the
colonies had resolved that to live without
liberty was worse than to die, and had
therefore wagered in the solemn game of
war their lives, their fortunes and their
Dor unutterable. the country had been ham,
mered and welded together; but thereafter
for nearly a century there had been MOTH
ing in our life to touch the innermOst foun-
tain of feeling and devotion; we had had
| rumors Of war-even wars we had had, not
without sacrifices and glory-but nothing
which went to the vital self-consciousness
| of the country, nothing which challenged
| the nations right to live. But in 1860 the
nation was going down into the Valley Of
Decision. The question which had been de-
| bated on thousands of platforms. which
| had been discussed In countless publica-
tfonS, which, thundered from innumerable
pulpits. had caused in their congregations
Ithe bitter strife and dissension to which
| only cases of conscience can give rise, was
everywhere pressing for solution. And not
I
was it alive and clamorous About every
! ffreside in the land, in the conversation Of
| friends and neighbors, and, deeper STILL in
| the secret Of millions Of human hearts. the
| battle of opinion was waging; and all men
| felt and saw-with more or less clearnesS-
| that an answer to the importunate ques-
| ton, Shall the nation live? was due, and
| not to be denied. And do not mean that
| in the north alone there was this austere
| wrestling with conscience. In the south
| as We'll, below all the effervescence and ex-
| citement of people perhaps more given
| to eloquent speech than we were, there was
| the profound agony of question and an
swer, the summons to decide whether honor
| and freedom did not call them to revolution
and war. 1t is easy for partisanship to say
| that the one side was right and that the
| other was wrong. 1t is still easier for an
| indolent magnanimity to say that both were
| right. Perhaps in the wide view of ethics
| one is always right to follow his conscience,
though it lead him to disaster and death.
But history Is fnexorable. She takes no
account Of sentiment and intention; and in
her cold and luminous eyes that side Is
stars in their courses. The men are right
| through whose efforts and struggles the
world is helped onward, and humanity
moves to a higher level and a brighter day
His Military Service.
The men who are living today and who
| We're young in 1860 will never forget the
glory and glamour that filled the earth
and the sky when the long twilight Of
doubt and uncertainty was ending and the
| time of action had come. A speech by
| Abraham Lincoln was an event not only
| of high moral significance, but of far
reaching Importance; the drilling Of mi
litia company by Ellsworth attracted ma
! tional attention; the fluttering Of the flag
| in the clear sky drew tears from the eyes
| of young men. Patriotism, which had been
rhetorical expression, became a passion
| ate emotion, in which instinct, logic and
| feeling were fused. The country was worth
saving 1t could be saved only by fire; no
/ sacr1hce was too great; the young men of
| the country were ready for the sacrifice;
| come veal. come woe, they were ready.
| AT seventeen years Of age William Nc
He was the sort Of youth to whom a mill
| tary life in ordinary times would possess
no attractions. His nature was far diff
ferent from that Of the ordinary soldier.
pleasures, than that Of marches and bat
ties. But to his mind there was no choice
or question. The banner floating in the
morning breeze was the beckoning gesture
trumpet called him-him and none other
into the ranks His portrait In his first
uniform is familiar to you all-the short
stocky figure; the quiet, thoughtfm face;
lad who could not stay at home when he
thought he was needed In the field. He
! was Of the stuff Of which good soldiers are
made, Had he been ten years older he
would have entered at the head Of q COM
pany and come out at the head OF q divi-
| sion. But he did what he could. He en-
listed as a private; he learned to obey.
His serious. sensible ways. his prompt
| alert efficiency. soon attracted the atten.
ton Of his superiors. He was so faithful
in little things they gave him more and
more to do. He was untiring In camp and
on the march; swift, cool and fearless In
fight. He left the army with field rank
when the war ended, brevetted by Presi.
dent Lincoln for gallantry in battle.
| In coming years when men seek to draw
| the moral Of our great civil war nothing
will seem to them so admirable in all the
| history Of our two magnificent armies as
| the way in which the war came to a close.
| When the confederate army saw the time
| had come, 1t acknowledged the pitiless
| logic Of facts, and ceased fighting. When
| the army OF the Union saw 1t was no longer
| needed, without a murmur or question.
making no terms, asking no return. In the
| flush of victory and fullness Of might. 1t
| laid down its arms and melted back into
| the mass Of peaceful citizens. There is
| no event. since the nation was born. which
has so proved its solid capacity for self
| government. Both sections share equally
in that crown Of glory. They had held q
| debate Of Incompatible Importance and