for the strife of battle are felt no more forever! What was grander than to win a name, and march at the head, perhaps, of conquering legions! Andersonville! Libby Prison! Who can think of them without a shudder! The gay and handsome Murray of the Ist Artillery-gentle as a woman, but a born soldier-loved by every one who knew him-and yet he too must suffer and starve, and die like a dog in that sink of hell in Georgia. No mother's hand to soothe his brow or moisten his lips, or whisper words of consolation. His bright eye dimmed, his fair form wasted to a shadow by wounds uncared for and by gradual starvation, his brown curls matted with filth, he crept over the "dead line," was shot, and buried in a ditch with dozens of others, never to be identified. "Our Dead" of the Army of the Tennessee. The list is very long and rich with precious names. I could not number them, or name them if I would. From Belmont to Bentonsville is a long road, as traveled by our army, via Donelson, Holly Springs, Vicksburg, Meridian, Atlanta and Columbia, and many brave and gallant hearts were "mustered out" before the journey ended. I can not mention all, but it is fitting now to speak the names of Rawlins, Ransom, Crocker, Wallace, Smith, Maltby, Fairchild, Howe, Fry, Hughes, Pierce, McCook and Yorke. It is not for me to attempt to pronounce eulogies upon these soldiers. While an abler hand than mine must write out their military record in camp and field; while abler lips than mine must recount their selfsacrificing devotion to the country, their nobility of character, and their remarkable ability as soldiers, and how step by step they fought their way from subalterns to high positions in our army, I trust I may be pardoned for referring briefly to those two chosen spirits of our Society who have passed away since last we met. McCook, that rough but gallant soldier, whose interest in our Society was only equaled by the zeal with which he served his country's cause, whose hearty greeting and genial laugh will never more be heard at our social gatherings. And Yorke, he too has passed away. Not by violent hands, but by the slow, but not less certain, instrumentality of disease contracted while in the service of his country. A genial, whole-souled soldier and citizen. Ever foremost in the advance, he carried with him into private life that energy and perseverance for which he was so distinguished as a soldier. Brave, generous and self-sacrificing to a fault. he leaves behind him a brilliant, spotless record-a record that we of the Army of the Tennessee will ever point to with pride and pleasure, and leaves many a comrade upon whose heart his name is engraven in letters of gold. One name remains upon the list, not yet mentioned but not forgotten-one whose memory is very dear to the Army of the Tennessee-McPherson, its third commander, "who fell in battle." to use the language of General Sherman, "booted, belted, and spurred, as the gallant knight and gentleman would wish." As I gaze around me to-night upon this brilliant scene, I recognize the companions of many a hard-fought field-of many a long and arduous campaign-of many a lonely bivouac-soldiers who have shared together the dangers and privations, and the joys and sorrows of years of active campaigning against a common enemyscarred with wounds and covered with honors dearly won, they have congregated here on this joyous occasion to do honor to the memory of the dead and living heroes, and to that Army of the Tennessee, whose footprints can be traced on nearly every successful battle-field. I see before me many of the brigade, division and corps commanders of our army-the men who led our gallant soldiers to battle and to victory. I see those whose names are familiar household words around every fireside, but I miss one familiar face, I see one vacant chair-one link in the chain is missing-McPherson is not here. In the language of the lamented Rawlins, “He has been mustered out of the Army of the Tennessee and enrolled in that other army, who went before him to the Better Land. They are bivouacked to-night around the Celestial Throne. Reputations do not suffer there, nor honors ever fade." Rawlins, Ransom, Crocker, Wallace, Smith, Fairchild, Maltby, McCook, Yorke, and hundreds of our bravest and best are with him there to-night. Peace to the gallant dead, eternal gratitude to our martyred heroes. Your comrades and your countrymen will ever do saintly reverence to your costly sacrifices! How vividly I recall the closing scene in McPherson's life! I see him now as I saw him that last time-straight as an arrow, a smile lighting his handsome face, and his eye full of the fire of battle. "Join me at Giles Smith's," he said, and stooped over and patted the neck of his favorite horse that had carried him safely through scores of engagements from Shiloh down, took a fresh cigar, laughed at the shell that burst above his head, drew on his buckskin gauntlets, gathered the bridle reins firmly in his left hand, and rode down to “that bourne whence no traveler returns." Oh! that I could have been with him in those last moments of suffering and of death, and held his hand and wiped the death-damp from his brow, and taken his last message and closed his eyes. All alone, amid whistling shot and the roaring of heavy guns, with no one near him but that brave young Reynolds of the 15th Iowa, his lamp of life burned out. Only one more added to the list! Only one more head bowed low in the dust! Only one more soul thrust from its mortal habitation to drift out upon the ocean of eternity! There is not a soldier of our army whose heart does not ache for the loss, and whose eyes will not drop tears of anguish for years over his sad fate. "Rest quietly, glorious McPherson, in thy rural home at Clyde, in the orchard by the brook!" No cannon's sound, or bugle note, or whistling Minnie can wake thee! Thou art sleeping thy last long sleep with the many thousands who have gone before thee to the spirit land. No more will thy firm, manly voice ring out amid the din of battle, leading thy soldiers on to victory. "Closed the eyes, mute the lips, still the heart," and forever hidden from sight all of him who was so idolized by his soldiers, and whose memory is so revered by his countrymen. MUSIC: "Dirge." EIGHTH TOAST:-"The Geneva Arbitration." "Peace hath her victories No less renowned than War." Response by Hon. M. R. WAITE. Yes, Mr. President, peace hath her victories. They are quiet but effective. They maintain the honor of a nation's flag, but never stain it with blood. Peace, herself, keeps in the front rank of civilization, and as that advances her laurels increase. She asks the support of arms, but strives to stop short of their use. Her place is on the line between reason and force, and she ought never to step aside for arms until reason has become powerless for good. Arms are the reserve of peace, and should never be called into action until all else fails. Peace achieved her grandest triumph at Geneva. On the one side of that great arbitration was a nation of soldiers—then, it is true, plain citizens; but their past history had given them an inalienable right to a record such as brave soldiers can only have. It was a nation young, active and determined. On the other side was a nation powerful in all that wealth, credit, prestige and complete organization could make it. Pride was equal on both sides. Ours was the pride of youth-theirs that of age, well preserved and commanding everywhere the highest respect. They were English-we Americans. We spoke their language. We sprang from their stock. We had just passed through the hardest struggle for life, against internal foes, the world had ever seen. War had achieved its proudest victory. We had saved ourselves from ourselves, and compelled all at home and abroad to acknowledge us a nation. In our struggle we thought we had cause of complaint against them. If our complaints were just, we had cause for war. Peace in her own good time promoted and concluded a treaty between us and them, by which the rights of each were to be determined, our wrongs, if any, vindicated, due reparation made, and war averted. This done, and it was found that peace had but commenced her work. A nation under trial, like men under the same circumstances, becomes restive when the testimony submitted begins to accomplish its work. This was their case. Peace again calmed the troubled spirits, healed the irritating wounds and held the contending parties to their bond of faith. The trial proceeded. The testimony was read, the arguments heard, the case considered and the judgment rendered. Justice was done. The condemnation money has been paid, and the victory of peace is complete. But the glory of the victory is not hers alone: War has the right to claim a share. As I have said, we were a nation of soldiers fresh from the laurels of war's great victory! We still had our soldiers, and they had their tried and faithful commanders. The people, in their gratitude for the work that had been done, had placed the General of the Army at the head of the administration of civil affairs. You, who are now here assembled to renew old friendships and fight over again old battles, remained, as you ought to be, his trusted friends. Truly, if war could ever usurp the place of peace in the national councils, it might have done it then. It did not, and it did not because in these days of our advanced civilization good warriors are good men. War did as it should-yield to peace when peace is consistent with honor. Both peace and war have therefore the right to be proud of this victory. But there is more: This victory reaches beyond the two nations immediately interested in its result. We on the one side accused them of wrong. They submitted to a trial upon that accusation. No two nations had ever before done the same thing. The example thus set is one the world must heed. A long step has been taken in the direction of universal peace. Surely, Mr. President, we have the right to hope the end of this victory is not yet. MUSIC: "America." NINTH TOAST:-"The memory of Major-General Thomas." MUSIC: "Dirge." TENTH TOAST:-"The Judiciary." Response by Major-General FORCE. A few minutes ago, Mr. President, while serenely enjoying this supper, I was notified that Judge Bond, who was to respond to this toast, was absent, and that I should try to say something in his place. I do not know what Judge Bond would have said. But in a gathering like this, of men who have all served as soldiers, many of whom have adopted the profession of arms for life, he would undoubtedly have acknowledged the gallantry, the strict notions of duty, the high sense of personal honor that characterize the military profession. At the same time he certainly would not abate an iota of the importance and dignity of the office of the judiciary. It is true an old maxim says, “Amid the clash of arms laws are silent." And this, indeed, is the rule of war. But another maxim, equally venerable, says, "Arms yield to the sway of peace." And it is the judiciary that regulates the sway of peace. There is nothing splendid or romantic about the office of judge. His business is simply to ascertain what is the truth, what is the law, and to announce that without fear, without favor. His is a modest office; but it is lofty and is vital to the State. I remember hearing General McDowell say, at a meeting of the Army of the Potomac, "War is the natural state of man." While listening to his admirable address, this seemed to be true. But if |
