E 462 .1 .A19 T5 LIBRA] QDDQbmOT^a ^^ , & , o « o * JR rJUT? &* ^ 7 " lP*Ku ADDKI .SS /of JOHN M.TIHIRSTON AT I H i: A.NNI \!. B \\i ill: 1 OF THE MICHIGAN CLUB AT DETROIT, PE] SRI :.\KY 21st, IS9< >. I\ RESPONSE TO 1 "The Man Who Wears the Button 1 Sometimes in passing along the street I meet a man who, in thr left lapel of his coat, wears a little, plain, modest, unassuming bronze button. The coat is often old and rusty: the face above it seamed and furrowed by the toil and suffering of adverse years: perhaps be- side it hangs an empty sleeve, and below it stumps a wooden peg. But when I meet the man who wears that button I doff my hat and stand uncovered in hi> presence yea! to me the very dust his weary foot has pressed is holy ground, for I know that man. in the dark hour of the Nation's peril, bared his breast to the hell of battle to keep the Han- of our country in the Union >k\ May be at Donaldson lie reached the inner trench; at Shiloh held the broken line: at Chattanooga climbed the flame-swept hill, or stormed the clouds on Lookout Heights. He was not born or bred to soldier life. His country's summons called him from the plow, the forge, the bench, the loom, the mine, the store, the cilice, the • A' 66 4 .) r vt % " college, the sanctuary. He did not fight for greed of gold, to find adventure, or to win renown, lie loved the peace of quid ways, and yet he broke the clasp of clinging arms, turned from the witching glance of ten- der eyes, left good bye kisses upon tiny lips to look death in the face on desperate fields. And when the war was over he quietly took up the broken threads of love and life as best he could, a better citizen for having been so good a soldier. What mighty men have worn this same bronze but- ton! Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Logan and an hun died more, whose names are written on the title pane of deathless fame. Their glorious victories are known of men; the history of their country gives them voice; the white light of publicity illuminates them for every eye. Bui there are thousands who, in humbler way, no less deserve applause. How man} KNIGHTLIEST ACTS OF CHIVALRY were never seen beyond the line or heard of above the roar of battle: I know a man wearing the button whose modest lips will not unclose upon his own heroic deeds. Let me the story tell of one. On the morning of July 1, 1862, 5,000 confederate cavalry advanced upon Booneville, Mo., then held by Col. Philip Sheridan with less than a thousand troopers. The federal line, being strongly intrenched, was able to hold its ground against the greatly superior force. Bu1 Sheridan, fearful of being outflanked, directed n young captain to take a portion of two companies, make a rapid detour, charge the enemy in rear, and throw its line into confusion, thus making possibles simultaneous and successful at- tack in front. Sheridan said to him: k I expect of your command the quick and desperate work usually imposed upon a forlorn hope;" at the same time bidding him what promised to be an eternal farewell. Ninety- two men rode calmly out, knowing the supreme moment of their lives had come. What was in their hearts dur ins: that silent ride? What lights and shadows flashed across the cameras of their souls? To one pale boy there came the vision of a quaint <>l cents on the dollar. To-day the bondholders are clipping their coupons, and the veterans their bandages. The written obliga- tion of the governmenl to the one class has been loyally kept by Republican legislation, supported by the sol- diers vote. Its unwritten obligation to theother should be no less binding on the conscience of the Nation. A surplus in the treasury and heroes in the poorhouse is not creditable to a brave people. Applause. The men vvho wear the button are dropping away one by one and in a few more years they will .-ill have an- swered to Heaven's reveille, bul their sons remain. Their -on- remain, not only to enjoy the heritage of good government, prosperity and peace, but take their fathers* places in the ranks of the grandesl party God's favor ever shone upon. Most of the son> of men who wore tin' button are Republicans by inheritance, by con- viction and by choice. They will follow the precedents their fathers set. I remember one. In November, L864, the union prisoners in Andersonville held an election in all due form of law. New- had reached them from beyond the lines that the Republican pai'ty had renominated Abra- ham Lincoln upon a platform which declared for the prosecution of the war to the bitter end. They had heard that the Democrats had nominated George I> McClellan on a platform which declared the war a fail ure, ami called for the cessation of hostilities. They knew that McClellan's election would result in a speedy exchange of prisoners and a return to home. Hew much that meant to a man penned up there, (io<\ only knows. To walk once more the shady lane: to see the expectant faces of love in the open door: to hold against his breast the one woman whose momentary em- brace seemed more to him than hope of heaven doc- to you and me; to raise in yearning arms the sturdy boy who was a baby when hi- father marched away. It meant this, and it meant more. It meant life, and hope, and home, and love, and peace for him: hut for the flag, dishonor) and foi the Union, dissolution. THE RE-ELECTION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN meant the indefinite continuance of the war: prolonged captivity, suffering and death, amid the horrors of Andersonville. They knew the i>sue and they solemnly prepared to meet it on that election morning. A mock election. say you? Yes, a mock election. Its result would never be returned to swell the grand total of loyal votes in liberty's land, but in the golden book of life, thai mock election is recorded in letters of eternal splendor. (Applause.) They took for their ballot-box an old tin coffee pot; their hallots were army beans. A black bean was for Lincoln, the Republican party, the flag and the Union, hut the man who east it could never expect to see home, wife or babies any more. A white bean was for McClellan, the Democratic party, the Union sacrificed, its flag in the dust: I nit it also was a promise to those despairing men of all most dear to human hearts. Some walked to the polls; some crawled there, and some were borne in the tender arms of loving comrades, and with the last expiring breath of life dropped in the bean thaJ registered a freeman's will. And when the sun had set and the glory of evening filled the sky, eager hands tore oil' the lid and streaming eyes looking therein saw that the inside of the old coffee pot was as Mack as the face of the blackest eont riband with votes for Abraham Lincoln and the Republican party. (Applause.) God bless the men who wore the button! They pinned the stars of Union in the azure of our flag with bayonets, and made atonement for a nation's sin in blood. They took the negro from the auction block and at the altar of emancipation crowned him citizen. They supplemented "Yankee Doodle" with "Glory Hallelujah," ami Yorktoun with Appomatox. Their powder woke the morn of universal freedom and made the name ••American" lirst iu.aH the earth. To us their memory is an inspiration and to the future it is hope. W 60 i: W ^ •«§e <^** V* ■ WERT BOOKBINDr Cfintville Pa March Apri< 198?