The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1911-06-02
MEMORIAL DAY
Continued From Page one)

1t was half-past eleven o'clock
when Glen Dyberry was reached,
where the memorial services of the
Post was held, Commander Judge
Henry Wilson presiding.
The long roll was beaten, the as
sembly called, and the opening in
vocation given by Rev. c. c. Miller,
who thanked the Almighty for be-
ing caused to be born in land of
Christian light and knowledge" and
prayed that the noble deeds of the
veterans may teach to generations
yet unborn the benign principles of
patriotism and unity
Opening Address.
Commander Wilson made a brief
opening address, in which he said:
THE duty of this day is one of i'm
pressive significance. We are as
sembled to honor our dead; to en-
phasize patriotism; to recall their
services and sacrifices in the cause
of their country; to renew our pledge
of love to our country and flag; and
to cement the bond of loyalty
among those who remain, We en-
ter upon this duty with the reverent
spirit which it's character inspires"
While the band played The
Star Spangled Banner Mrs. VIM.
Clark raised the flag. Mss Jennie
NJ. Ball draped Captain Hams grave,
the drum corps playing Glory
Hallelujah."
The Rev. w. H. Swift, D. D., de-
livered an eloquent address in men,
ory of the Unknown Dead, He
spoke as follows:
Doctor Swift's Address.
THE service l render to-day,
though it comes from my heart,
must seem poor indeed, after lis
tening to the thrilling story of
the Civil war told by men who
were a part of that they tell;
men who fought for the flag, look
ed into the cannon's mouth, list
ened to the whistle of flying bull
let's, and the shrek of bursting
shell, and waited in prison pens
for the day-dawn of peace with
horror; men who longed for the
hour to strike, when the cruel
war should end; men who faced
loneliness, and fever, and death,
till, at last Home, Sweet Home"
fell upon their ears out yonder
on the ''far flung battle line"
stirred their hearts and made the
tramp, tramp, tramp" of marching
feet the sweetest music to which
they ever listened, as they turned
their faces toward the loved ones
waiting for them in the loyal
North, to receive from the coun-
try they fought to save a well
come that will yet echo when
the earth grows old, and the stars
grow cold"
This day stands for much in
our national history. Our lips
tell once more the story of sacri-
fees made that our flag, cleansed
in the blood of our soldier dead,
might float over our country with
out one star missing. We speak
of the lonely sentinel, of the fir
ing line, of the men who fell and
the unknown dead" lying in
graves far away in the Sunny
South land-graves, over which
the silent stars keep their un-
wearied vigil; and It's we'll that
we do so-cheers for the living
boys in blue! Flowers for the
dead! Tears for those who sleep
in unknown graves
q have stood by the tombs of
Washington and Grant; by the
grass-coVered mounds beneath
which lie all that is mortal of the
gallant Phil Sheridan, and the
heroic Admiral Porter. | have
stood with uncovered head in
cemetery, in which were lying 20,-
600 soldiers dead. l have rest
lessly paced the floors of Libby
prison, communing with the brave
spirits who there sealed their de-
votion with death for the cause
of freedom. But never have my
feelings been so stirred as when
standing by that sarcophagus in
Arlington cemetery, just west of
the Temple of Fame, beneath
which lie in one common grave
Pill unknown dead, with this
simple inscription above them:
Here lie the bones of 2111 un-
known soldiers. Their remains
could not be identified, but their
names and deaths are recorded in
the archives of their country, and
its grateful citizens honor them
as their noble army of martyrs.
May they rest in peace!
Silently we stand with bowed
neduS, ,Wnlle SOU gentle nandS
lay sweet spring flowers on this
grave in loving memory of our
unknown dead. One word more!
'Tis the gentle, loving hand of
woman which lays these blossoms
on this grave, and fittingly. Do
we ever hear the orator, in his
impassioned plea, speak of the
matchless sacrifice made by the
silent mothers and wives of the
unknown dead; the silent moth
ers and wives, who kept a lonlier
vigil; who day and night were
on the firing line; who suffered
the agonies of a thousand deaths;
who have listened for years for
the footballs of those who come
not, but sleep in far-off graves
The mothers and wives of the
soldiers! Who will breathe for
us a fitting tribute, or weave for
us garlands rich enough fair
enough, bright enough to place
upon their brows! Not till the
curtain lifts and we read in the
clearer light of the undimmed fu-
ture the story once more, when