Each fight was victory, he held the rein-
The master spirit of the battle plain,
'Gainst adverse fate and every cross-grained star
He seemed in arms the very god of war;
You sent him thus prepared to aid the free-
That man of silence and stern destiny —

To break the fetter, to unchain the slave,

To stay the storm then sweeping o'er the brave,

To bid the powers of red sedition cease

Their work of blood and crown the land with peace.

Goddess of Freedom, with thy native grace,
Shroud thy fair form and veil thy beauteous face
To hide the tear-drops in thy love-lit eyes-
Like glist'ning dew-drops falling from the skies-
Tears for the peerless soldier resting now
With all Columbia's laurels on his brow,

He bore thy standard, wore thy starry shield,

And did thy bidding on the battle-field;
His cool and steady hand was at the helm

When banded anarchists would overwhelm
The ship of state; when clouds obscured the light
Without the fiery pillar in the night;

When freedom's sun did his bright presence shroud
And hid his burning face behind the cloud;

When moon and stars seemed all eclipsed and dim,
You looked for light and succor both to him.
His the bold hand to lead, the head to plan
His sword flashed dazzling in freedom's van;
He conquered all the (then) unconquered hosts
That madly mustered at their trysting posts,
And fiercely fought to build a new-born power,
A myth, a whim, the idol of an hour.
The tameless, dauntless warriors who could give
Life, home and fortune that a freak might live,
Who in wild ecstasy their flag unfurled,
To turn the current of the living world
Backward and downward, pedestal and dome,
To foster slavery in fair freedom's home,
Chivalrous spirits, who in weal or woe,
Are more than match for any equal foe,
These were the men, fair Goddess, that beset
Thy starry flag, these were the men he met
On every field, and his grand genius won,
From his first siege at gory Donelson,
To his last field, and Appomatox rose

The monument that marked the conflict's close.

Oh star-gemmed flag! now drcoping at half-mast.
If things inanimate could cry or weep,
Thy wailings would be heard upon the blast,
Wher'er the compass points, on land or deep,
Star-studded banner, emblem of the free,
His blade bestowed eternal bays on thee,
Flag draped in woe above the pulseless hand,
Of him who rescued freedom's holy land.

Oh starry flag! enfold the hero's breast,
Cover the soldier in his dreamless rest,

Oh heaven-gemm'd banner, to his heart so dear,
With thy bright folds enshroud his honored bier.

Oh! spirits of our soldiers dead

Who rest upon the higher plain,

Who for our land and freedom bled,

He goes to join your august train

That camps before the great white throne;
Tender him welcome of your own,

Such welcome as befits the brave-
Who struck the shackles from the slave.
Warm welcome to his rich rewards,

Welcome! commensurate with his renown,
Offered by heaven's tried veteran guards-

To him who won the conqueror's crown.

Soldiers! who followed where the hero led,

Comrades! who marched with him and fought like kings, 'Neath his command who camped, or charg'd or bled, And earned the double fame that valor brings,

Comrades! who nobly trod the scarlet press,

Vicksburg and Richmond with their wild alarms,

The bloody tangles of the wilderness;

The crater and the avalanche of arms,
The storm, the hurricane, the battle cloud,
Again in memory recross our view-
And the wild thunderbolts so fiercely loud,

The graves all coffinless, for soldiers true,
Filled with our gallant dead, the battle's roar―
Shall wake them not, they rest, rest evermore.
Comrades! the heart will throb, the eye will fill,
The sigh and tears are ours, 'tis God's great will,
Oh! sanctified each spot, sacred the sod,
O'er which our mighty captain fought, or trod,
His last great battle's o'er,

His last great victory won;

Now on the higher shore.

He stands with Washington.

Oh! cannons, mortars, implements of war

Whose thunders shook the earth and rent the clouds, Oh! send your parting peal both loud and far

A signal to the sorrowing, weeping crowds-
That he has entered on his life of rest,
The welcome soldier and the honored guest
Of God, the God of battles, God of love,
Promoted to a high command above.

Oh! swords and sabers glist'ning in the light,
Lances and bay'nets gleaming in the sun,
Oh! flash bright blades, as his flashed in the fight,
A bright adieu to him whose work is done,
A finished work, which time can not efface,
A rescued land, emancipated race,

A work the brave alone would dare or do,
Flash blades of heroes - for the hero true.

Announce the holy vigils which we keep

Above the coffin where his relics lie,

Relics of him who was not born to die,

A name, embalmed in every heart and head,

A name to live when kings and thrones are dead.

Oh! drum, wild rolling drum, let thy loud sound
Be heard in every vale, on every hill;
Oh! beat the reveille the wide world 'round,
Inform the nations that his heart is still;
Yes! still in death — as it in life was true,
Yes! sound, oh! drum, the soldiers last tattoo,
The last "long roll" for him, oh! glorious drum,
Roll to the world his hour of rest has come.

The President:-The next on our programme is something fresh -"Marche Funebre et Chant Seraphique." He read the words. with a broad English pronunciation, and with a sort of "excuse my French" air which elicited an outburst of laughter from the audience. The organ broke in with the wailing strains of the march, which at the close of the selection died away into a soft musical murmur, which rendered it quite uncertain as to when it actually came to an end. After waiting patiently awhile, General Sherman said:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:

I think the music is over, but I am not certain. [Laughter.] We have now reached that period of our exercises when a little fun, something sparkling and witty, will be perfectly in order. The members of our Society have a perfect right to call upon any person upon the platform to speak to them extemporaneously. I do not think the audience possesses that privilege (cries of Logan! Logan! Logan!) although it seems they have taken that privilege. [Laughter and renewed cries for Logan.]

General Logan came forward and was received with cheers. He addressed the audience as follows:

MR. PRESIDENT:

I have a complaint to make against you, sir, [laughter] because you have notified this audience that they could call upon anybody to make fun. [Laughter.] Ladies and Gentlemen, after listening to what we have to-night, I do not know that I could say anything that would be in the slightest degree interesting to you. Since listening to the most eloquent remarks that have been made in reference to one that I loved as dearly as man could love man, and while we have been considering his character and calling to our minds that which is calculated to arouse the grief which rests in our bosoms, I know that I cannot say anything to interest you, but of him I will say one word. I knew him well. He was my friend. There have been few times in the history of the world, reaching back for a thousand years, so solemn as this time. But a few days since, when, on the mountain top and in the valley, on the broad ocean, in hamlet, town and city, in every part of the civilized world, the people were listen

ing for the words which at last went sweeping over the spiderweb of the telegraph that penetrates everywhere; and our heads were bowed, and grief penetrated the heart of every man, woman and child, when that short sentence reached us: "Grant is dead." With but one exception, no such impression has been made upon the civilized nations of the earth as was made by the death of this man. Why was this? He was a plain man. He was simple in his habits. He was not an orator, as Brutus was, who could stir up the multitudes. He was not brilliant or dashing. It was not that. He was a man of genius, a man of great intellect, a man of sound judgment, a man of great heart, a man of deep feeling and of great thought, a man whose genius towered far above the genius of men who are known to history, a man who could by one word move armies, a man who could win victories and not exult, a man who could receive the plaudits of the civilized world without changing a feature, a man whose pride was in his simplicity. I will say more, perhaps, in speaking of him as compared with others than would be received by some as being correct. I believe, as firmly as I believe that the God of Heaven has given me an existence to-day, that he was the greatest man as a military genius that ever lived on this earth. [Applause.] When he died, he fell as the tall oak falls, before the sharp winds, as it stands in the forests, and causes the earth to tremble around about it. So in his fall were the vibrations heard from the rivers to the ends of the earth. Such a man was Grant and such was the feelings of the people at his death. The clouds that were once thrown around his fair name, by the unfortunate and malicious whisperings of his enemies were driven from sight by thoughtful people, and the sunlight of justice opened his honest bosom to the world's examination, and they found it as pure as the thought of an angel. [Applause.] I do not believe that Grant ever had an evil thought. I believe his intentions were as pure as the dew drop that hangs upon the lips of the most beautiful flower that is produced by the highest state of cultivation. He sank down into the earth as pure a man as God ever threw from his plastic hand and breathed life into his nostrils, that he might become a living soul. [Applause.] As the Army of the Tennessee, that he first commanded, and which your humble last commanded, we bid farewell to that commander who had the love and admiration of each and every man that ever obeyed his voice, in moving forward for the preservation of the