This day is sacred to the great heroic host who kept this flag above our heads,—sacred to the living and the dead—sacred to the scarred and maimed,—sacred to the wives who gave their husbands, to the mothers who gave their sons.
Here in this peaceful land of ours,—here where the sun shines, where flowers grow, where children play, millions of armed men battled for the right and breasted on a thousand fields the iron storms of war.
These brave, these incomparable men, founded the first Republic. They fulfilled the prophecies; they brought to pass the dreams; they realized the hopes, that all the great and good and wise and just have made and had since man was man.
But what of those who fell? There is no language to express the debt we owe, the love we bear, to all the dead who died for us. Words are but barren sounds. We can but stand beside their graves and in the hush and silence feel what speech has never told.
They fought, they died; and for the first time since man has kept a record of events, the heavens bent above and domed a land without a serf, a servant or a slave.
DECORATION DAY ADDRESS.
* Empty sleeves worn by veterans with scanty locks and
grizzled mustaches graced the Metropolitan Opera House last
night. On the breasts of their faded uniforms glittered the
badges of the legions in which they had fought and suffered,
and beside them sat the wives and daughters, whose hearts
had ached at home while they served their country at the
front.
Every seat in the great Opera House was filled, and hundreds
stood, glad to And any place where they could see and hear.
And the gathering and the proceedings were worthy of the
occasion.
Mr. Depew upon taking the chair said that he had the chief
treat of the evening to present to the audience, and that
was Robert G. Ingersoll, the greatest living orator, and one
of the great controversialists of the age.
Then came the orator of the occasion Col. Ingersoll, whose
speech is printed herewith.
Enthusiastic cheers greeted all his points, and his audience
simply went wild at the end. It was a grand oration, and it
was listened to by enthusiastic and appreciative hearers,
upon whom not a single word was lost, and in whose hearts
every word awoke a responsive echo.
Nor did the enthusiasm which Col. Ingersoll created end
until the very last, when the whole assemblage arose and
sang "America" in a way which will never be forgotten by any
one present. It was a great ending of a great evening.—The
New York Times, May 31st, 1888.
New York City.