[On the 4th of July, 1888, Col. Sam. Scott, of Kansas City, Mo., presented to the Soldiers’ Home, at Leavenworth, a large wagon, fitted with reclining chairs for the sick and maimed members of that institution, and four horses. Governor Martin was selected to acknowledge this generous gift, and did so in the following speech:]

Those who have seen Joseph Jefferson in his great character of Rip Van Winkle, will recall the tender, touching pathos of his simple words: “Alas, how soon we are forgot!” There are tears in his eyes as he utters this sorrowful plaint, and tears in the eyes of all who hear it. Even to the wild, improvident, careless vagabond, the consciousness of oblivion is a grievous wound.

There are times, I am sure, when this mock grief of the play-actor is a real grief in the hearts of thousands of Union soldiers. Time was when they were central figures in the grandest drama ever enacted on the world’s great stage. What they thought or said was the inspiration of millions; what they did lifted manhood to sublime heights, and filled the eyes of women with tender, happy tears. Thousands gathered to see them as they marched away to the war, while every window and housetop blossomed with the colors they loved, and every tongue voiced the grateful thankfulness and exultant pride of those who watched them go. For years thereafter they enriched the annals of the age with their splendid deeds, and every word that came to them was fragrant with praise. The bells in every steeple rang with jubilant triumph, and eager throngs of people, gathered in every city, town and hamlet throughout the land, shouted, danced and wept with joy when the bulletins from the front told how the soldier boys, amid the fierce storms of battle, had kept unstained the fervor of their faith and the valor of their aspirations, and carried the old flag to victory. Their glory was the theme of exulting songs, and the thanks of legislatures and of Congress were showered upon them in unstinted measure. And when at last they marched back to their old homes, their faded and tattered battle-flags radiant with the lustre of victories greater and grander than men had ever before won, how the generous welcomes that everywhere greeted them touched and warmed their brave and simple hearts. These were so fervent, so spontaneous, so universal, that it was as balm to the sore hurts of sickness or wounds, and blotted out all recollection of the hardships, privations, perils and sacrifices of their service. They had saved the Republic, they had exalted the Nation to sublime heights, they had preserved Liberty with its blessings, and brought back the joys and contentment of Peace. This was their glory and their reward, and in their exultant strength and happiness they asked nothing more.

But alas! “how soon we are forgot.” Not a quarter of a century has passed and gone, and all the glorious memories and still more glorious deeds of the great war are as “a tale that is told.” The men who then “rallied around the flag” are growing old, and seem, at times, to have outlived their age. The far-away days that are so real and so vivid to them, are a dim and misty past to the new generations. They hear and read and see many things that wound them as did the bullets of their country’s foes. This practical, pushing era looks askance when they “fight their battles o’er.” The old stories of march, and camp, and battle-field, so full of never-ending interest to them, fall on dull ears and cold hearts unless they are told at some reunion or camp-fire where only their old comrades hear, and sympathize, and understand. At times it seems to them as if the Nation exulted in forgetfulness; as if the thousands of their countrymen, enjoying the peace and prosperity their valor won, regarded it as a crime to talk of the war; as if the men of to-day esteemed their victory over armed treason a moral wrong, to be regretted and apologized for, rather than a glory to be cherished and remembered forever. They find the children at school—even their own sons and daughters—reading histories in which the heroism, the love of country, and the military genius of Greek, Roman, French, German and English soldiers and generals are eulogized in eloquent and fervid language, while the valor, the patriotism, the skill and ability of the soldiers and commanders of the Union army are “damned with faint praise,” or dismissed with the most meager statement of facts. They hear cruel sneers about “the old-soldier racket,” and loud complaints concerning “the burden of the pension lists.” And, most grievous of all to their sore hearts, they see men whose bullets laid their comrades low in death, men who waged a bloody and relentless war against the life of the Nation, men who were glad when the Union army suffered defeat and mourned when it was victorious—they see these men exalted to high places, and honored above those who suffered, endured, and braved so much that the Republic might live. It is not strange, in view of all these things, that the soldiers of the Union often think themselves forgotten, and cry out, in bitter grief, that their sacrifices and services were all in vain.

It is true that, in many respects, the Nation has not been unmindful of or ungenerous to its soldiers. No other country, in any age, has paid to its maimed defenders such pensions as our Government pays. In no other land are such Homes as this provided for the care and comfort of disabled veterans. Nearly two thousand men, torn by wounds, or enfeebled by disease, or broken by the infirmities of old age, are here sheltered, fed and clothed, and in the five Homes now established, fourteen thousand are thus cared for. But, after all, the mere necessaries of life do not make a home. The members of this institution have a right to expect something more than these. They have a right to know that they are not forgotten by the people who enjoy the fruits of their perils and their sacrifices. They have a right to feel that the citizens of the Republic kindly remember and gratefully appreciate their heroic services. This knowledge, this consciousness that they are not forgotten, will, I am sure, warm the cockles of their hearts, and make the bare walls of every barrack glow with the soft, sweet light that shines in the dearest, happiest homes in all the land—the light of peaceful content, and trusting, confident love.

I am glad and proud to be the bearer of such a message of remembrance and gratitude to the members of this Home. It comes, too, from an old comrade—from one who carried a musket during the far-away days of the great war, and who shared, with you, the just pride of duties well performed. Time and fortune have dealt kindly with him. It is said that he is a rich man. I have not cared to verify this story by an examination of the commercial reports. But that he is a thoughtful and a generous man, the useful and costly present he makes to this Home is conclusive evidence. He has not forgotten the men who once touched elbows with him in the forming lines. The music of battle-bugles still rings in his heart, and he hears, in his dreams, the steady tramp of the marching columns and the hum of the camp when the evening fires were lighted. Thus remembering, and thus inspired with a true soldier’s sympathy, and a true man’s thoughtful generosity, he has brought to you a gift that will, for many years to come, relieve the suffering and brighten the daily life of hundreds of the sorely stricken members of this Home.

In the name of all the officers and members of the Western Branch, I thank you, Colonel Scott, for your generous gift. No language at my command would, I am sure, fitly express their thankfulness and their gratitude. But the prayers and blessings of all the stricken men who enjoy your gift, will, I know, be for you and with you; and the consciousness of having brought into their lonely and broken lives some rays of joy and contentment, and given to these old and war-worn veterans the dear assurance of remembrance and appreciation, will be your rich reward.

CONTENTS.

PAGE.
Pennsylvania and Kansas,[7]
The First Kansas Volunteers,[14]
The Wyandotte Constitutional Convention,[17]
Eighth Kansas Veteran Volunteers,[36]
Accepting Nomination for Governor, (1884,)[45]
Address before Republican Convention of Atchison County,[47]
The Republican Party,[50]
The Campaign of 1884,[63]
First Inaugural Address,[67]
The Grand Army of the Republic,[69]
A War-Time Picture,[72]
How Kansas is Advertised,[74]
Birthday of General Grant,[75]
The State University,[77]
The State Normal School,[80]
General Grant—Memorial Address,[84]
Kansas Farms and Farm Interests,[91]
American Soldiers,[100]
The Kansas National Guard,[106]
Address of Welcome to the A. O. U. W.,[108]
The Irish National League,[110]
The School Teacher,[112]
Installation of Officers of Lincoln Post, G. A. R.,[115]
Quarter-Centennial Address—“The Development of Kansas,”[119]
Our Duty to the Union Soldier,[137]
In Memoriam, (Address at Wichita on Memorial Day,)[140]
Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen,[155]
The Swedes in Kansas,[158]
Accepting Nomination for Governor, (1886,)[166]
Republicanism in Kansas,[168]
Address Before the General Assembly of the United Presbyterian Church of North America,[196]
Completion of Water Works at Clay Center,[197]
Mexican Journalists,[200]
Thirtieth Anniversary of the First Congregational Church of Topeka,[201]
The Kansas Pioneer,[202]
Floral Festival,[206]
Dedication of “Snow Hall,” (State University,)[207]
Welcoming Teachers’ Association,[208]
Second Inaugural Address—“The Governors of Kansas,”[210]
Memoirs of the March,[213]
Kansas During the War,[217]
Odd-Fellowship in Atchison,[222]
“Modest Kansas,”[227]
Farmers’ Protective Association,[229]
Northwestern Editors—Welcome to,[234]
Temperance Laws in Kansas,[236]
Address at the Thirty-sixth Session of the International Typographical Union,[240]
A Present to the Soldiers’ Home,[242]