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I have not time now to describe the great battles in which Lee was engaged the battles with McClelland about Richmond; the second battle of Bull Run; Chancellorsville; Gettysburg, and the long and terrific struggle with Grant in the Wilderness.

It would be useless, if not improper, to compare Lee with other American generals. We are only fifty years from the awful conflict. Such comparisons still arouse antagonisms and do more harm than good. It is enough to say that Lee's name is fully worthy to rest by the side of that of Grant or Washington or Napoleon or Wellington or Charlemagne or Cæsar. History has furnished no greater soldier, and his fame as a superb military genius is not dimmed by reason of the fact that he was finally overcome. Napoleon was finally overcome; so was Leonidas; so was Hannibal, thought by many to be the most marvelous genius for war in all antiquity.

Among others there have been two great Americans whose deaths were peculiarly beautiful-McKinley and Lee. McKinley, pierced by the bullet of an assassin, lay upon his bed and died with a prayer upon his lips. Lee also died in prayer. He was accustomed to ask the blessing at his table. While thus engaged, and, as was his habit, in a standing posture, he was stricken and fell. In the brief delirium that antedated death he thought he was in battle in the Sunny South. And thus this great soldier passed over the river and into that land where there shall be no more night; "And they need no candle, neither the light of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light, and they shall reign forever and forever."

MCKINLEY MEMORIAL ADDRESS.

(From Address at Memorial Services of President McKinley.)

Y friends, I am an active, enthusiastic Democrat. But with men of all parties, North and South, I stand today as an American at the grave of the Nation's Chief.

M

Another sun that shone so long in our national skies has gone down and death is enshrouding us with his chilly shadows. As a great nation, we are again halted here along life's mysterious highway and in the silent gloaming, stand gazing into the dark beyond. We are all come once more to the great parting of the ways. A distinguished fellow traveler, warm in heart, resplendent in intellect, but mortally wounded and worn out and exhausted by the awful march, has taken his last faltering step, made his last gasp for life and then dropped dead in the weary road. We cluster close about him. We see his familiar form, the clayey tenement in which he dwelt, but he himself is absent. In silent wonder we gaze at one another and each reads in his fellow's face the dread question, "Whither has our brother gone?" But no answer comes from there. In the deepening twilight we look all about us to see naught else save a single sign board on which is painted the iron finger of death, pointing immovably into the black and pathless abyss beyond, and the great question presses down upon our heartsfor reason now lags behind-"If a man die, shall he live again?"

From out this stilly hush there come three voices giving answer to this momentous question.

The first voice says:

"As to whether your brother's spirit is dead or still alive, we have not sufficient evidence; we do not know; we cannot decide. It may be that a brighter day has dawned, and in the warming sunlight the bud has burst and died that a fadeless flower may grow, or it may be that unending night has come and the bud is wrapped in the icy frost of eternal death; we have not sufficient evidence; we do not know; we cannot decide. It may be that he who loved

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THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX

TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

companionship so well is now in the rich fruition of his fondest hopes 'midst spirits just and angels bright, or it may be that like some luckless star suddenly losing his moorings, he has plunged out into boundless space, there to wander on forever, lone and unattended in the pathless void. We have not sufficient evidence; we do not know; we cannot decide."

Oh! Agnosticism, is this the only solace thou canst bring? Is this the only drink thou canst give to a soul athirst? Is this the cold rock to which hapless Prometheus must be forever bound, whilst the ever forming vitals of hope are in turn to be plucked out by the eagle of despair? In the dread solitude of an hour like this is indecision, the nervous old parent of mental torment, the only companion thou canst suggest?

There comes another voice, more cheerless than the first. It says: "Your brother, mind and body, is dead. As the lighted candle burns itself out and as a candle is obliterated forever, so he has passed away. He will never think, or love, or feel again. Reason ever fresh with conquest shall still march on, but he who fought so knightly amidst her quivering plumes shall never poise his lance again; your brother's intellect is dead. Love, sweet goddess, filling human hearts with bliss, shall still abide, but he who loved so truly shall never love again; your brother's heart is dead. Music, harmony of the universe, shall still roll on, but he whose soul was stirred so deeply by its rapturous swell, will ne'er be thrilled again; your brother's soul, if soul it could be called, is dead."

We may not know just why, but whatever we may have said at other times, some resistless power deep within us, now cries out, "Stand aside, Atheism; oh, stand aside! Thou shalt not place the black cap of annihilation upon the noble brow that sleeps before us."

"Blessed be that great and Holy Spirit who breathed us into being and made us immortal like Himself," there comes another voice. It is nature's voice, prompted to speak by nature's God. In this night of life, in which we have lost our way, it is the caged bird of paradise singing darkling in every human breast and telling us that anon the morn shall rise. Yes, it is more than this. To us, athwart whose favored skies the beckoning lights of revelation have been swung, it is the "still small voice" of the religion of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. This voice says, "William McKinley still lives-lives where clouds shall never lower and suns shall set no more."

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