FIFTH TOAST.-"Our Navy."

Response by Rev. GEORGE T. DOWLING.

MR. PRESIdent:

I scarcely know why I should have been honored by having been requested to respond to a toast on Our Navy, unless it may be, perhaps, that the committee on arrangements chanced to be aware of the fact that before becoming an Episcopal clergyman, I was for several years a Baptist.

They may have supposed that I might have been acquainted with this topic, because I may have had some experience in the naval department of the army of the Lord. I am not now, however, connected with that department, even though I have so many warm and dear and noble friends in that magnificent denomination of Christian brothers.

My present attitude reminds me of a statement of a friend of mine down there in Brooklyn, Rev.- -, formerly pastor of the First Baptist church of that city. He had Irish blood in him, and of course he was a very bright man. He was accustomed in speaking to use the Irish brogue, which gave an additional interest to what he said, and around the corner there was a Methodist church, which was accustomed to send its candidates to him for immersion, as they had no baptistry, and he was very glad to accommodate them; but after a time it came to be a little monotonous, baptizing so many candidates for other churches, and one Sunday morning he gave the following notice: "I want to give notice that this evening the ordinance of baptism will be administered in this church, and I want it understood that this church wants to be kind and obliging towards all sister churches, but at the same time I want it further distinctly understood that this church doesn't take in washing."

My topic, however, is not an ecclesiastic one, but is the Navy of the United States. We have a navy. I need not remind you of that. You remember better than I do the name of Farragut. You remember how he said to those brave fellows, who were going into the battle, where the shot and shell were flying about them, "Don't you be afraid of that fire, boys, remember there is a hotter fire than that for every man who is afraid to do his duty." But not only had we a navy, but we have a navy. We have two navies; we have the United States navy, and then we have the

Spanish navy, just where it ought to be, down at the bottom of the sea. At last we have the Spanish navy, just where they sent the Maine. They have found that after centuries of misrule in their colonial possessions, the mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small. Not that I would glory over a fallen foe. That would be not magnanimous in you or me.

One of the grandest passages of that magnificent address, to which we have just listened, was that glorious tribute to the bravery of those who, when you were soldier boys, faced you as enemies, but now are standing with you, shoulder to shoulder, as friends.

And so I remember that one of the grandest episodes in the war, which has just fortunately closed, was when Captain Philip of the Texas heard his men begin to shout, as they saw their shot and shell take effect, and he said, "Don't shout, boys, remember those poor fellows over there are dying."

All the Spaniards were not bad. When you think of that lonely old man, going back to his country, without his navy, to be robbed of all his honor for many years, Admiral Cervera, you wish he had been engaged in a better cause. But we must remember that we have Hobson today, because Admiral Cervera was not only a Spaniard, but he was a man and a soldier.

And yet, on the other hand, when I think of the cruelty of Weyler, of the duplicity of Blanco and their kind, when I remember that toward Cuba and Porto Rico, and the Philippines, Spain, the mother country, was never a mother at all, but only a motherin-law, then I can but feel that it would be better, far better for humanity at large, if all such Spaniards were in heaven. I can but feel that it would be only just to them, if their souls should ascend to the sky in some way, as did the soul of that young lady, who was gracefully skating with her George Washington Adolphus Dobbs, and she said, "Oh, isn't this perfectly delightful, it is so exhilarating, it is perfectly charming, I feel just as though my soul was ascending to the skies," and she hadn't any more than said it before both her soles ascended to the skies.

The wicked stand in slippery places. We have seen the Spanish souls ascend to the skies, but if they do not live a different life than they have been accustomed to, they will rapidly go in the other direction. They will have not only a bright future, but a lurid one.

We have a navy, and we need a navy, and we will need a - larger one, because, let me remind you of the fact that with our colonial possessions, unless they are properly defended, as they only can be by a navy, they will be sources of weakness instead of strength; because whenever an enemy masses its forces against our nation, it will select our weakest and most unprotected link in the chain of our possessions, and no local force can ever defend against an enemy concentrating its strength against one of our colonial possessions. Unless we have a navy larger than we have at present which can be called instantly to defend our outlying possessions, those possessions will become a weakness instead of a strength. This, you remember, was Napoleon's mistake, when he said, concerning San Pedro, Corfu and Malta, "If we get them, we will hold the Mediterranean," but he did not, because he did not have the vessels to hold them. It is not enough for us to have possessions. We must have a fleet of ships which can defend those possessions; otherwise it will only be as when that learned professor was in a little boat, with a boatman, on the deep sea, and presently he said to this boatman, "My friend, have you ever studied geology," and the boatman said no, he never had. Well, said the professor, "One-quarter of your life is gone." Presently he said, "My friend, have you ever studied zoology," and the boatman said he never had. Well, said the professor, "One-half your life is gone," and just then the boat lurched, and both tumbled into the water. "Can you swim?" said the boatman." "No," said the professor. "Then the whole of your life is gone."

Though we may have wealth in our states and in our colonies, unless we have a navy that can swim the seas, the whole of our wealth may be gone at any time. We need a navy. The surest way to avoid war with other nations is to be prepared for it.

And we need such a navy as that we can say to the whole world, if need be,

"We don't want to fight, but by jingo, if we do,

We've got the men, we've got the ships, we've got the money, too."

So that tonight, while I rejoice to honor the names of those who fought in our army, while I rejoice at the glories that cluster around such names as those of General Grant, General Logan, General Garfield, General Sherman, and General Sheridan, and

Teddy Roosevelt, the next Governor of New York State, I rejoice also at the glory that crowns the names of Admiral Schley, of Admiral Sampson, and of Admiral Dewey, and of Hobson, and, Mr. President, I can not better conclude these remarks this evening than by quoting the closing words of that magnificent national anthem, words which must ever kindle to a white heat the enthusiastic response of every genuine American who loves his country forever,

"The army and navy forever,

Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue."

After the song, "Tenting on the Old Camp Ground," General Hickenlooper introduced the next speaker, in these terms:

The next toast, "Our War with Spain; What shall the Harvest be." Of the gentleman who is to respond to this toast I had last night occasion to say that it was unnecessary to introduce him. After the delivery of that eloquent oration, how much less necessary it is for me to introduce our comrade, General John C. Black.

SEVENTH TOAST.-"Our War with Spain; What shall the Harvest be."

Response by General JOHN C. BLACK.

MR. PRESIDENT, AND FELLOW-CITIZENS.

It was said by the voice of divine wisdom, many centuries ago, Moreover that which a man planteth he shall surely reap." And we that are gathered here tonight, citizens loving our country, and desiring that its future may be assured in peace and glory, as its past has been kept by war and glory, not having the power of divination, yet may comprehend that the majestic rule is unaltered. That which is sown will surely be reaped! This is one harvest time. For four hundred years the laborers have been preparing the field, and sowing and cultivating the grain, and it is ripe for the gathering. For four hundred years the most cruel and despotic power known to the earth has scattered the seed, now in the Netherlands, now in the Caribbean, now in Peru, and now in Mexico. It has planted the seeds of blood and tyranny and wrong, seeds scattered by the most remorseless infantry of

modern times, seeds selected by the gloomy bigotry of Philip, by the cold cruelty of Charles, by the calculating, merciless energy of administration after administration; seeds that were scattered on all the fields of Europe; for wherever liberty was making an effort to live, the Spanish steel was at the service of the tyrant, to extirpate and destroy it; seed which bore the impress of the inqui sition, which had been gathered into the granaries of the escurial, which had been carried abroad to the islands of the seas, in the countless armadas that knew but one quest, and that was gold, and had exercised but one power, and that was the power of the shedding of blood.

And now, at last, after all the earth had been filled with such seeds these crimes, and these offences, on the 1st day of May of this year the harvest opened, and that colossal empire which had darkened the vista fell before the thundering demand of Dewey's squadron in Manila bay.

And now they have left the field to us. Spain may hope by diplomacy a little longer to hold to some of the possessions of her centuries of cruelty, she may hope that in the emergencies of European politics something will appear that will plead for or fight for her cause, she may hope that in the chapter of accidents there may be some outlet afforded for her, but the truth is again everlasting, that that which she sowed in crime and blood she must reap in ruin and tears. Her empire is gone. The master of the harvest is the mighty archangel, Justice, the master harvester who leads in the field is Destiny, and it seems as if those that follow closest in the track of destiny, unto this old ruin cumbered ground, to cultivate it on other lines are the American people. And what is it that we must do? For it will be true of us as it has been true of Spain, and as it has been true of every other nation in the world, that what we sow we will reap hereafter. Destiny has planted the American flag suddenly and without the purpose of its people demanding it, without human projects having foreordained it, without human counsels having declared it. Destiny has suddenly planted our flag where that of the cruel Spaniard waved, in both the hemispheres, and through the wide extent of the two great oceans. We stand upon the very verge of the time when we must begin to prepare for our harvest. And how will we do it? and what is there for us in this work? If I read aright the history of the American people, Mr. Chairman, a