Lewiston Teller

SPEECH OF A. QUACKENBUSH

On Sunday: May 30th, Decoration Day, at the Cemetery of this City.

Soldiers of the Grand Army and fellow citizens.

In the progress of American institutions, and since the establishment of our National identity among the races of men; distinct periods of time have been selected, and certain days set apart to be respected and observed as public or national holidays. These seasons of gayety and rejoicing, or of meditation and penance, are in celebration, either of some grand achievement in the affairs of our country, or in sad commemoration of a public calamity. Twenty-five years ago, this day, and the occasion of its bringing us together, were not marked by any special significance in the annals of our country's events. But, to-day we are here--and Why? Why this public visitation of the living, to a city of the dead? Whence come these strains of marshal music, and the measured soldiers tread? Why strew upon yonder grave the flowery decorations of love's bouquet? These earthly mounds are but cold, inanimate clay. They give back no response to such holy tribute; and yet we immerse them in the inspiring fragrance of God's emblems of purity and innocence. What peculiar offering is this we make at this appointed time, and upon this unresponsive altar of death? Ah, my fellow countryman! the echo of Sumter's guns ever reverberating through the death chilled caverns of memory's sepulchral past, answers the question. The tattered remnants of the thousand of America's blood bespattered and lead riddled battle flags answer the question. The imperishable record of our late theater of war; of Bull Run, Donelson, Antietam, Shiloh, Stone River, Lookout Mountain The Wilderness, Chancellorsville, Chickamauga, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Nashville Atlanta, and many other bloody fields of mortal strife-answer the question. The presence here of these war worn and battle scarred veterans of the grand old army, clad in the typical livery of the Federal uniform, also tell us why we are here. Beneath that floral shroud, so tenderly and graciously placed upon our mother earth, is a silent vault, where sleep the mortal remains of a soldier of the American Union. He who pledged his life in the defence of home and country, and to sustain the glorious principle of human liberty; and folded around the lifeless form of this majestic dead, is the emblematical, spiritual shroud of the old "Star Spangled Banner." Perhaps in battle's din, the fatal shot consigned him to this tomb; a generous, willing, holy sacrifice to freedom's sacred cause. Or, otherwise forsooth, neath prison walls, he yielded up that proud, patriotic spirit, chained and enslaved to the merciless fates of war. No matter how or where, truly may it be said of him he died that we might live. How oft buoyant life and war-like vigor, with these surviving comrades, has he "mounted" to the bugle's call or "fallen in" at the reveille's beat, shoulder to shoulder and breast to breast, forming a bulwark of human flesh around the sacred folds of that dear old flag. The flag which he revered the liberty he prized and the home that he loved, may have been lost to him in his unselfish martyrdom. If spared to see the end of war and join in the loud huzzas of victory he bore among us, the royal diadem of Columbia's honored son. Twenty years ago, at the disbandment of the victorious army of the Union, our war department numbered upon its muster rolls, a million and one-half of men. The killed and those who had previously retired on account of wounds and other causes; after making due allowance for re-enlistments in the veteran service, were at least a million more. And yet, we wonder not, at the magnitude of this fighting host; inspiration of liberty united in battle array to maintain and perpetuate our Union of the States, and to transmit, unimpaired, to our country's children the blood bought legacy of freedom. Of this vast throng of philanthropic souls, how many to-day, sleep the sleep that knows no waking? Since the victory of loyal arms, spoke peace to our common country, this mighty host of steel tried warriors is known only to grateful memory. Time-that ever restless traveler, whose march with mankind is from the cradle to the grave--is fast removing from the theatre of human action, the age worn veteran, "Boys in Blue;" leaving to us but the comfortless and yet cherished privilege of strewing flowers over their tombs. And the ordinance of this day; our meeting here to reanimate this spot with the brush of memory's artist; has a broader, deeper holier; significance; than the simple picture here displayed. It is associated with the mother's sigh, the widow's tear and the sister's undying sentiment of affectionate remembrance. It is love fond memento of constant devotion to the welfare of departed friend. It is comrade's tribute of loyal memory to one who; with him, in camp and field in weary march and battle storm shared fate to fate in the dark hour of our country's peril. It is a nation's baptism of gratitude at the shrine of its loyal sons. It is the smile of omnipotence gracing a hallowed sacrifice upon the altar of human liberty. Keep green this spot. Tis sacred ground. It mutely speaks of noble deeds, in the nobility of man. It inspires within the breasts of our children that patriotic devotion to home and country, which is the only safeguard of our national life and character. And when the mantle of government falls upon their shoulders, as soon it must, the great Ark of the Covenant wrought in the liberty loving genius of our country's fathers, and transmitted by us in its untarnished purity and sacredness, will be as faithfully guarded from the invasions of foes without, or of enemies within. And in the solemnity of this hour, in the sacredness of the day and in the sad memories engendered by this occasion; may we not hope, (under the benediction of universal liberty spoken to us by the Lord of Hosts and God of Battles, through the bloody ordeal of fire and sword of which this scene is commemorative) that the holocaust of war may never again devastate the landscape of our beautiful America. That we may recognize no east, no west, no north no south; and remain as one family united in the imperishable bonds of fraternal union. Bearing allegiance to but one flag; loyal devotion to but one people and worshipful reverence and obedience to but one Almighty Father.