Decorah public opinion. (Decorah, Winneshiek County [Iowa]) 1895-1928, 1904-06-01


the child Of Norway's ice bound shore
is made forgetful that one day in Nav
time is the anniversary Of freedom in
his fatherland.
The SONS OF Eme, aid Isle have wan
dered to the extremities Of the earth,
but ON the seventeenth of March, up
on the breast Of each. is seen the green
shamrock, emblematic of the faith of
their fathers, and commemorating the
name day of him whose inspired word
charmed their holy island home from
the thrall Of Paganism.
| And what man is there who has ever
trod American soil, conscious of the
dignity and privileges of American
citizenship; who has seen above him
the star spangled hammer and lister ned
to the Tapping of its folds as they rose
and fell in the caressing arms of exul:
| tant breezes that traverse q continent
from ocean to ocean and touch no spot
wherebout man dwells, and fan no
brows but those of sovereign freemen,
whose pulse does not quicken and
heart rejoice, no matter toward what
land his exile steps lave turned, when
the rising sun of July 4th proclaims
the natal day of his country's free.
dom.
| The dark pages of human history
are preserved to us only by the ever
present incident of devotion that like
the silver lining of the mantle of the
tempest, relieve the blackness Of the
scroll by the white light of purity,
and the page that tells Of the triumph
truth is never dimmed by the black
setting Of intrigue or misgovernment
that set in motion the invincible ma
chinery of righteousness.
With an impulse of loyalty that
throbs from Atlantic's lash wave to
the placid waters of the Golden Gate,
the American people unite upon this
day as one of commemOratiOn OF that
war of nearly half century ago, up.
ON the issue Of which depended the
cause of human freedom not only in
America bat throughout the civilized
world, and which cost the loyal people
of the north the lives of 400, 900 of
their best and bravest young men.
True to the instinct to which have
referred we dwell not upon the per-
fidy and crime responsible for that ter
rife conflict, and the dark and bitter
chapters of the history of those four
years of human slaughter are re-
counted no more except as incidents
in the splendid annals of the heroic
devotion of the soldiers of the Union.
In this beautiful season Of May when
the green Of every bud surpasses the
larest emerald; when every dew drop
Nesting in the cup Of tiny flower. or
trembling on lts slender stem, is
sparkling diamond; when the flashing
sun light is smile of Providence
and the balmy breezes are as sweet and
light as mothers kiss on sleeping
infants brow; and the gentle rain
comes like Heavens benediction on
the waiting, hopeful world below.
we forget the words of denunciation
for the traitor hearts that betrayed the
flag and the traitor hands that sought
to strike it down and our hatred for
the hosts Of treason is lost in the
depths of our gratitude toward the
men who saved the nat on, and we say
/" Thank God for the Union soldier"
Thank Him again and again Tor that
soldiers devotion and prowess in the
time they tried mems souls-for the
might of his arm on the battlefield
for his daring bravery beneath leaden
hail and in the face of bursting she'll
for his patient watchfulness through
the weary hours of the silent night
when the very stiffness whispered of
secret foes along the lonely picket
lines-for his constancy and enduI.
ance in hospital and prison pen and
with hearts overhowing with graft
tude and arms laden with garlands
woven from May times scented bloom
and foreheads barred in respectful
reverence, we come today To render
homage to the memory of the dead
and pay tribute to the living.
see in the group of old men before
rue remnants Of shattered column
that the shock of four years combat
and the wasting of forty years of the
unstaying hand of time has all but
annihilated. OF these panaplied
legions that at Lincoln's call sprang
full armed in their devotion to the
flag, and disciplined in the school of
their country's peril, and shook the
earth with the tread of their march.
ing feet. and stilled the tempest with
the thunder of their guns, the leat
majority have passed away, leaving to
Us the heritage Of nation, strong and
great. united east with west and
north with south and cemented in that
unity until time shall be no more by
their sacred blood, and they are
known to us no longer save as a
memory that grows more tender as the
years roll by.
That was q host 1000, 600 strong,
superb in the youthful viRor of iron
sinewed American manhood. and you
may we'll ask. where are they today?
Go ask an hundred southern battle
fields where the red riot of carnage
moved them down in swaths and
where the soil is rich with the dust
of our unknown dead. Go ask the
specter of pestilence that lowered
over the camp and darkened the line
of march and swept away more lives
in its silent blight than was claimed
in the din and shock of battle. Go
ask the dead walls of the silent hos
pital for its tale of haggard faces ana
mangled forms. Go ask the dis
mantled stockade at Andersonville to
give voice again to the agonized moan
Of the last extremity Of starvation.
Go ask the national cemeteries of the
Union where stndied art lends kindly
hand to nature in beautifying 100000
Of THAR oravas % ask tno mOssv