SERMON AND ORATION 
 
 WITH TIIK PROCEEDTXr.S OF 
 
 ^Irotmion ¥oiiiif lU. 28, 3*. 0. (f). f.. M. jt. 
 
 IN COMMEMOItATIO.V OF 
 
 COL. ISAAC M. TUCKER. 
 
 Who fell at the Battle of Gaines* Mills, before Richmond, 
 June 27, 1862. 
 
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 SERMON AND ORATION: 
 
 Sermon ^racljcir hn €. ^l O^rabot, 1). g. 
 
 IN THE THIRD TRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, NEWARK, N. J. 
 JULY 20, 1862, 
 
 ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF COL. I. M. TUCKER, 2d REG'T N. J. VOLS., WHO 
 FELL AT THE BATTLE OF GAINKS' MILLS, BEFORE RICHMOND, JUNE 27, 1862. 
 
 ©rattan MikvtHi to ira. |(ol]u |}. foster, 
 
 OW INVITATION OF 
 
 PROTECTION LODGE No. 28, 1. 0. 0. F. 
 In 3d Pres. Church, Newark, N. J., July 29, 1862, 
 
 IN COMMEMORATION OK THE DEATH OF P. G. REPRESENTATIVE ISAAC M. TUCKER, 
 COL. 2d REG'T N. J. VOLS., AND A MEMBER OF SAID LODGE. 
 
 NEWARK, N. J. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY PROTECTION LODGE NO. 28 I. 0. 0. R 
 1862. 
 
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Ir. ^-raben's Sermon. 
 
 IL Samuel, 1 : 25-26. 
 
 " How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle ! Oh ! Jonathan, thou 
 wast slain in thine high places ; I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan ; 
 very pleasant hast thou been unto me." 
 
 These words, form a portion of David's lament, when iie 
 heard the sad news of the death of his friend Jonathan. 
 That noble young man — the pride of his nation, whom in the 
 beginning of his lament, the Psalmist styled " the beauty of 
 Israel" — went forth with his father to do battle in a holy 
 cause, even the defence of his country. But God smiled not 
 on the hosts of the chosen people, even though the^^ were 
 defending the right, against unrighteous enemies ; and soon 
 the fearful news reached the ears of the absent David, of dis- 
 aster and defeat — to him, aggravated by the fact that his 
 friend, in the last struggle, when striving to turn the tide of 
 victory against the foe, had fallen upon the heights of Gil- 
 boa. The sad lament of which the text forms a part — one 
 of the saddest — one of the sweetest — one of the most touch- 
 ing ever penned by man — was deserved by Jonathan at the 
 hands of his friend, for he was a noble man — he had died in 
 a noble cause — he had died nobly. 
 
 But a few days ago, and the bruit of battle was borne to 
 our ears. With it came the Avhisper of disaster; that whis- 
 per began to deepen in intensity — it soon became like the 
 roar of the tempest, and thundered in our ears that thous- 
 ands of the beauty of America were lying cold and dead in 
 the lowlands and on the high-places of Virginia. Amongst 
 the names'of those who had fallen, we heard that of one well 
 known in this community — in this sanctuary, the name of 
 one respected by all — loved b}' many — a leader in the host — 
 the leader of one of our own loved regiments. You well 
 know to whom I refer — to Col. Isaac M. Tuckek — one of our 
 
own- number. Col. Tucker was one for whom I entertained 
 something of thefecKngs entertained by David for Jonathan., 
 He was my respected friend — endeared to me by long and 
 pleasant acquaintance, and by many kind offices. Concern- 
 ing him I can truly take up the words of David — " I am dis- 
 tressed for thee, my brother ; very pleasant hast thou been 
 unto me." It is fitting that I, his friend and pastor — in this 
 sanctuary where he so long and constantly worshipped — 
 should pay my tribute of respect to his memory. It is fit- 
 ting that here I should address words of consolation to his 
 bereaved family ; that here I should use the sad occasion of 
 his death to give instruction to you who knew him, who 
 loved him, who respected him. 
 
 J. Concerning our departed friend, I remark, in the first 
 place, that like Jonathan, he was a noble man. Like the 
 Prince of Israel, he formed a part of what is fitly styled 
 " the beauty " of his people. I hazard nothing in saying 
 that he was one of the foremost young men of our land. 
 
 He was of a fine and commanding personal appearance — 
 intellect was throned upon his brow ; frankness and gener- 
 osity were stamped upon his features ; his smile was cheer- 
 ful and winning ; his manners genial. Nor did the outward 
 appearance belie the man — he icas what he seemed to be. 
 
 His intellect was of no common order. This no one could 
 doubt Avho had ever listened to his conversation or read his 
 letters. His perceptions were quick — his po^^'ers of obser- 
 vation singularly extensive — his judgment sound — his reason- 
 ing powers at once acute and strong — his taste exquisite. 
 No better proof of remarkable intellectual powers can or 
 need be given than the presentation of the main facts of his 
 life. Having but few advantages of early education ; passing 
 the first years of his life — until he had attained his majority — 
 as an apprentice, and a few following years in an engrossing 
 business; he, by his own almost unaided efforts, before he 
 reached the age of thirty-four years, had acquired an excel- 
 lent general and legal education, and had become an accom- 
 plished and powerful Avriter. At tlie age of thirty-four, he 
 was admitted to the bar of this his native State ; he at once 
 took an umisually high position for one just entering on the 
 
 «r 
 
practice of his profession — a position which he continued to 
 hold and advance during- the three years of his professional 
 life. 
 
 His affections were strong and ardent. Though not demon- 
 strative, he was a deeply affectionate husband and son and 
 ^ father. His impulses were generous — he Avas ever ready to 
 make any sacrifice or to perform any labor for a friend. By 
 nature he was an enthusiast — his propensity to enthusiasm, 
 however, was in a great measure held in check both by his 
 judgment and the experience derived from his early life and 
 training. 
 
 He was a man of unflinching courage. I refer not now so 
 much to mere physical insensibility to danger — the meanest 
 of the virtues, if with propriety it can be called a virtue- 
 judging from his physical organization, I should say that lie 
 possessed this to a remarkable degree ; but I refer not so 
 much to this as to the nobler courage of the soul, which, 
 whilst it perceived and appreciated a threatening danger, 
 can still hold the man calm and unflinching at the cannon's 
 mouth — in the very jaws of death. 
 
 He was a man of irrinciple. He could be trusted. He had 
 his faults — and who has not — but his was the noble nature 
 that when error was committed, could acknowledge and re- 
 pair it. 
 
 Of his religious character,! regret that I cannot speak more 
 particularly than is in my i)ower to do. He was, as you all 
 know, not only a supporter of the gospel, but a regular 
 attendant upon its ministrations. What professed follower of 
 Jesus was more regularly in Iiis seat in the sanctuary ? I 
 know that he was a lirm believer in the truths of the gospel. 
 During our long intimacy, I had with him several close and 
 particular conversations — especially on the eve of his depart- 
 ure for the seat of war. Nor did our intercourse on this sub- 
 ject cease with his departure — it was continued by letter. 
 He always met me, when I introduced the subject of religion, 
 intelligently — frankly — kindly ; with evident interest. He 
 parted from lue M'ith t!ie assurance that he would give the 
 subject of his personal interest in Christ his earnest atten- 
 tion — an assurance which he nnsolicitedly renewed bv letter. 
 
 ■o> 
 
6 
 
 The Chaplain of his regiment, in a letter written to me since 
 his death, bears a testimony precisely similar to my own. 
 He died with the words "My God ! My God!"' upon his lips. 
 Of the nature and consequences of that cry, we can, in this 
 life, know nothing ; but, may we not exercise the trust that 
 it was the publican's cry for mercy ? With his father's and 
 his mother's God — for he was a child of the covenant — with 
 hoi)e, we leave him. 
 
 Whilst we cannot but regrei — nay, mourn deeply — that, 
 during his continuance with us, he was not a professed and 
 decided follower of Jesus ; we may say, and say emphatically, 
 that he was one of the flower of our people — the beauty of 
 America — a noble man. 
 
 11. I remark, in the second place, that like Jonathan, 
 he died in a noble cmise. He died in the defence of his 
 country. 
 
 The phrase, my country, is one of the most complex — the 
 most inclusive — that can be uttered. It includes the land in 
 which I dwell — the whole land. Each and every section of it. 
 It includes its scenes of beauty and loveliness and grandeur — 
 its lakes — it? rivers — its hills — its mountains — its plains — its 
 valleys — its seats of industry — its marts of commerce — its 
 cities — its villages — its hamlets — its well-tilled fields. It in- 
 cludes the graves of my fathers — the house where I was 
 born — the spring at which I drank in childhood — the field 
 over which I sported. It includes the home I have gained 
 for myself — the home of my loved ones. It includes the 
 nation of which I form a part — its grey-headed grandfathers — 
 its strong men — its gentle mothers — its laughing maidens — 
 its croAving infants. It includes my parents — the companion 
 of my bosom — my little ones. It includes the government 
 under which I dwell — which gives me protection — the just 
 and equal laws that government administers. It includes tlie 
 security — the sense of security — the prosperity — the wealth — 
 the happiness — the civil and religious liberty — which I and 
 mine enjoy. It includes not only my v>-cll-being at home, but 
 my security — my consideration abroad. It includes the 
 memories, the glories of the past — the prosperity of the pres- 
 ent — the hopes of the future. My Country ! It is the 
 
most precious earthly boon which God has given mc— which 
 God has given earth. It is the home of freedom ; the beacon- 
 h'ght of the oppressed of all nations— of suffering humanity. 
 It is the grandest earthly instrument for the accomplishment 
 of good, the enfrunchisement— the evangelization of the 
 nations. Next to the Church, purchased by my Saviour's 
 blood, it is the noblest thing this world contains. Next to 
 the service of Jesus hers is the noblest service in which man 
 can engage. Next to the mart^n-'s death, deatli for her is 
 the noblest man can die. 
 
 In the service of his country—of our country — Tucker 
 died. Yes, in her service. True, no foreign foe had landed on 
 our shores, but paricidal hands had been reared to dismem- 
 ber the father who begat them— to tear asunder the loving 
 
 mother from whose bounteous bosom they and we drew life 
 
 and with filial love and gratitude he had rushed forward to 
 beat down those impious hands. Yerily, it was a noble cause 
 in which he died. 
 
 HI. I remark, in the third place, that he died noblfj—ns 
 Jonathan died. 
 
 He fell like a brave man— at the post of duty— with his front 
 to the foe. He fell cheering on the noble band which each mo- 
 ment was lessening at his side under the fierce and overwhelm- 
 ing attack of a fearfully outnumbering enemy. He fell with 
 the words upon his lips — " men ! we must stand around 
 OUR COLORS AND DRIVE THEM BACK." His was not the courage 
 of madness, nor the courage of despair— it was the courage of 
 a brave man who knew his duty and was ready at every hazard 
 to perform it. Brethren, I know it— though few do— that our 
 friend entered upon this war expecting to die. This he implied 
 by word and action Avhen he first informed me that he had vol- 
 unteered—when he afterwards bade me farewell— and in evcrv 
 letter that he wrote me after his departure. A few intimate 
 friends with whom he freely conversed, witness the same. 
 A mutual friend wrote me that for a few days before the bat- 
 tle in which he fell he was sad— but calm, as thougli expect- 
 ing to die, but ready to meet death. A friend who parted 
 with him at the bridge of the Chickahominy, as he was 
 leading his men to the field of blood, perceived the same 
 
 -O 
 
sadness — the same calmness. He expected to die — and yet 
 was calm. 
 
 " So marched he calmly to that field, 
 Thence never to return ; 
 Save bearing back the Spartan shiekl, 
 Or on it proudly borne." 
 
 Under a withering cross-fire — with but four companies 
 strugo-linc: acrainst the attack of a repriment, "he dressed his 
 men as calmly as though at evening parade " — and nobly fell. 
 Even in the agonies of death, he could think of others. He 
 bade those who were bearing him from the field, to lay him 
 down and save themselves. And then, with the words " My 
 God ! My God !" upon his lips, he gave up his spirit to his Ma- 
 ker. The death became the man and the cause — he nobly died. 
 
 To those bereaved, I cannot here — in the glare of day — be- . 
 fore the multitude — speak those words of consolation and in- 
 struction which are proper to the private chamber of grief 
 But, to the mourning, I can say, you have the knowledge of 
 what your loved one ivos — the knowledge of the noble cause 
 in which he labored, and in which he died ; the memory of 
 these things is a priceless treasure — it will increase in value 
 as the 3''ears roll on, I can say, that in your grief you have 
 the sympathy of all — of all who knew him — of this whole 
 community — of all true hearts in the nation for whose wel- 
 fare he died. Above all, I can say, that you have the sym- 
 pathy of Jesus — the friend of the sorrowing. You have the 
 sympathy of him who came to earth that he might sympa- 
 thize — that sympathizing, he might speak a word in season 
 to him that is weary. You have the sympathy of Him who 
 was himself a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief — of 
 Him whose heart knew bereavement — of Him, who though 
 now exalted up on high (and therefore able to help) still bears 
 for the suffering a brother's heart. It is my privilege and my 
 duty, also, to say, that your Father hath smitten you. He ever 
 chastiseth His children in love — for their profit that they may 
 become partakers of His holiness. See that ye despise not the 
 chastening of the Lord, nor faint when ye are rebuked of Him. 
 
 To you, who sympathize Avitli this mourning family, I now 
 turn. 
 
 'd 
 
@. 
 
 The cause in wliieli our friend perished is a nolle cause. 
 Dying in it, and as he died, he claims your respectful renieuL- 
 l)rance. Above his grave should Ijc reared tlic rnouument 
 which we accord to heroes ; and, by the side of that monu- 
 ment, we and, our children should stand with uncovered 
 Iieads and speak with bated breath. 
 
 The cause in wliich he perished is our cause — the cause of 
 our country— the cause of all the interests enwrapped in that 
 pregnant phrase "our country;" he deserves our lasting 
 gratitude. 
 
 Nay, more— I should be false to myself— lalse to you — false 
 to my country— false to my God, did I here stop. The cause 
 for which he died — the cause of our country — that cause S(^ 
 dear to him, to you, to humanity, is still in danger — it is even 
 now trembling on the verge of ruin. He is no safe counsellor 
 who says otherwise. It may — humanly speaking— be saved; 
 but it can be saved only by toil and sweat and blood— it can 
 be saved only by the putting forth of all the power, the tax- 
 ing of all the energies of the Republic. The l)lood of thous- 
 ands of your brethren calls upon you — not for vengeance— no 
 not for vengeance - for it is written " Vengeance is mine ; I 
 will repay, saith the Lord." Another cry comes up from the 
 highlands and lowlands of Virginia, of Kentucky, and of Ten- 
 nessee. The cry comes to you. Will you let us die in vain ? 
 Will you suffer the blood we have shed to be of no avail to- 
 ward accomplishing the end for which we shed it ? Will you 
 permit that glorious cause for which we died — our cause — 
 ijour cause— the cause o? freedom— t\\Q cause of humaniti/— the 
 cause of God — to go down in darkness ? 
 . What is your answer? Fathers! Afothers! will j-c hold 
 back your sons ? The tears of thousands of parents shed 
 over the bodies of their sous slain for you, will cry shame 
 upon you. Wives! will ye hold back your companions? 
 The tears of unnumbered widows shed over husbands slain 
 for your benefit, will cry Shame upon you. Mk^— young 
 men— will you hold back? The blood of your brethren, en- 
 riching the plains and hill sides of the South, will cry shame 
 upon 3'ou. Hark ! — a cry comes to you from every grave 
 filled bv a patriot slain. 
 2 
 
10 
 
 Will you let us die iu vain ? In vain, indeed, we die, if 
 we have fruitlessly perished in the cause of dastards who dare 
 not emulate our example; who will put forth no effort to 
 perfect for themselves that which we have commenced for 
 them. 
 
 Young- men, I do not say that it is the duty of all whom I 
 address to leave the delights of homo and go forth to brave 
 the dangers of the battle-field. Well do I know that it is the 
 duty of some to remain at liome ; but, as well do I know that, 
 it is the duty of some to go. It forms no part of my duty to 
 declare how many shall go — or who shall go. The ques- 
 tion — "shall I go?" each individual must answer for himself. 
 My brother, in the light of God's word and providences, with 
 prayer for the illumination of the spirit, seek thou the answer 
 to that question ; or rather, seek thou the answer to that 
 other question — shall I stay at home ? If duty point thee to 
 the field of battle, go forth ! go forth, as went our friend, 
 bravely — calmly — resigned to die, if need be, in thy country's 
 cause. Go forth as a Christian, seeking, first of all and above 
 all things the Kingdom of God and his righteousness ; that, 
 if thou survive the contest, it may be not only to enjoy the 
 iemjyoral fruits of thy labors, but to fulfil the highest duty of 
 a freeman — even the faithful service of thy God ; that, if 
 thou fall, it may be, not only to live in the grateful remem- 
 brance of thy people, but also to live forever in the glorious 
 presence of that God whom, in serving thy country, thou 
 didst faithfully serve. 
 
PROCEEDINGS 
 
 TAKKN HY 
 
 CONCERNING THE DEATH OF P. CI. KKP. ISAAC JL TUCKER, 
 
 A MEMBER OK SAID LODGK. 
 
 At a regular meeting of tlie Lodge, held July 14, 1862., 
 P. G. Master James D, Cleaver offered the following pre- 
 amble and resolutions, which were unanimously adopted : 
 
 '■' Whertas, There no longer remains any reasonable doubt as to tlio dcatli 
 of our esteemed Brother, Past Grand Representative Isaac ^[. Tucicgr, Col. 
 2ud Regiment, N. J. Vol., who fell at the battle of Gaines' Mills, on the 
 2Tth day of Jane last, while bravely rallying his troops around the Regimental 
 Colors — therefore be it 
 
 Resolved, That a Committee of five members be appointed to prepare an 
 e.xpression of the feelings of this Lodge, in view of this sad event. 
 
 Resolved, That a Committee, consisting of all the Past Grands of this 
 Lodge, be appointed to make arrangements for a public demonstration in 
 m3mory of the brave soldier who has thus cheerfully given up every interest, 
 and even his life, a willing sacrifice upon his country's altar. Said demonstra- 
 tion to consist of a funeral Oration or other appropriate services, becoming 
 the solemn occasion." 
 
 Tiie Committee — Past Grands Cleaver, Douglas, Eoss, 
 Force and Stainsby — appointed under the first resolution, re- 
 ported, at the next meeting of the Lodge, July 21, 1862, the 
 following, which was adopted with great unanimity : 
 
 To the OJJicers and Members of Protection Lodge, No. 28, I. 0. 
 
 0. F., of Newark, N. J. 
 Brothers : 
 
 Your Committee appointed to prepare an expression of 
 the feelings of this Lodge respecting the death of our esteemed 
 
 o« 
 
12 
 
 friend and brother, P. G. Isaac M. Tucker, would respect- 
 fully report, and recommend the adoption, of the following 
 
 MEMORIAL AND RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 Brother Isaac M. Tucker, the subject of this paper, was 
 initiated into the I. 0. O. F. in this Lodge on the 11th da}^ 
 of March, 1846. 
 
 lie was installed Financial Secretary on the 1st day of 
 July, 1846. 
 
 He was installed Recording Secretary'- on tlie 1st day of 
 October, 1846, and continued therein until September 1, 1847, 
 when he resigned the position. 
 
 On the 16th day of December, 1850, be took a card of 
 clearance, having removed to Richmond, Virginia, and en- 
 gaged in business there. 
 
 In 1851 he returned to this city, and on the 8th da}' of 
 September of that year, he again deposited his card with this 
 Lodge, and gladly renewed his old associations ; taking a deep 
 and lively interest in the welfare of this particular Lodge, 
 and of the Order generall}'. 
 
 He was installed V. G. on the 5th day of Januar\', 1852 ; 
 and passed the Chair of the N. G. with the term ending 
 December 27th, 1852. 
 
 On the 8rd day of January, 1853, he was again installed 
 Recording Secretary, and served in that capacit}'' during 
 the whole of that year. 
 
 On the 9th day of January, 1855, he was a})pointed by 
 tlic N. G., to the important position of C, and continued to 
 hold the place, under the appointment of successive Nol)lc 
 Grands, for three consecutive terms. 
 
 He was, on the 8d day of July 1854, unanimously elected 
 as the Representative of this Lodge in the R. W. Grand 
 Lodge of this Jurisdiction. 
 
 He was elected in 1855, as the Grand Representative of the 
 R. W. G. L. of New Jersey, in the G. L. U. S., for the years 
 1855 and 1856. He was again elected in 1857, by the R. W. 
 G. Encampment of this State as her Grand Re])resentatiye in 
 the G. L. L". S., for the years 1857 and 1858. At the Session 
 of the G. L. U. S. held in 1858, he was appointed by Grand 
 
18 
 
 Sire Craighead, as the Grand Marshal of that Grand- Body, 
 for the years 1859 and 1860; and in that capacity he had in 
 charge, at the 40th anniversary of tlie Order, observed in 
 New York City, A]-)ril 26, 1859, one of the largest processions 
 (composed of one Order alone,) ever seen on this continent. 
 He also attended the Session of the G. L. U. S. for the year 
 1860, which convened at Nashville, Tennessee ; and at which 
 the profuse expressions of love for the Union, uttered by the 
 brethren from the North and South and East and West, gave 
 no cause to suppose how near and fearful was the terrible 
 tempest of death and desolation which since then, has baptized 
 the land in blood and carnaii-e. 
 
 This, in brief, is an outline sketch of the history of brother 
 I. M. Tucker, in his connection with our Lodge and the Order. 
 It would be profitless to speculate upon what his career might 
 have been, had his life been spared. 
 
 But beside these honors conferred upon him by the Order, 
 (and of which it is but simple truth to say, he accjuitted 
 himself most admirably, reflecting great credit upon his 
 State, his Lodge and himself,) he was for many years active, 
 zealous and constant in the Lodge, shirking no responsibility, 
 and de(;lining no service that could benefit*the brethren. 
 
 He was a safe, willing and prudent counselor to any one 
 who went to him for advice — and he had much to do in 
 bringing about that system and method" which we are now 
 enjoj'ing, and which was reached only after years of clfort 
 and care. 
 
 Thus it halJi been. But now ? ah ! rum- .- lu)\v is it ? 
 
 " Jt is appointed unto man once to die.'" 
 
 ''' Dulce et dccoriuit cd jiro ])al.ria mori.'^ 
 
 That appointment TucKEK has met. ^ray (iod cheer our 
 hearts with the hope that in liis hour (^f mortal agonv, his 
 Soul tasted the sweetness of a jtatriot's deatli upon tlu^ altar 
 of Duty and Country. 
 
 For the past year Death has l)een very 1 )usy. Mounted ui)oii 
 the grim chariot of fiercest, civil war, he hath di-iveu over 
 our once peaceful hind and reaped a harvest of mortality, 
 enormous in extent. By the fatal breath of his nostrils he 
 hath blasted hecatombs of lives, and reared upon the blood v 
 
 o* 
 
u 
 
 gleaning, great fountains of grief, whence shall llow through 
 generations of Life, over myriads of crushed and sorrowful 
 hearts, floods of dark waters, of more than ]\[arah bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 All classes have felt the smiting. In response to the call 
 of a mother's voice, crying for help to redeem her life from 
 the matricidal blows of a portion of her children, there 
 sprang to the nation's aid her loyal sons from ever}^ trade 
 and profession. Right gladly and gallantly they went out to 
 defend our political Mother, even at the utter peril of their 
 lives. 
 
 How full of danger that duty was, the mute eloquence 
 of an hundred thousand graves of loyal men — of an army 
 ot sick and wounded heroes — and of the tens of thousands of 
 smitten hearts, scattered all over our land — can truly testify. 
 
 From our own Altar and Lodge-circle there went a score 
 of brave souls, with their lives in their hands, to help make 
 up a living breast-work of gallant manhood Avith which to 
 stem the mad torrent of Treason, then, and still, setting with 
 the energy of maniac hate against the corner-stones of the 
 National existence ;.bent on uprooting and annihilating " the 
 Union and the Constitution" of our Fathers, -and nullifying 
 and defying " the Government and the Laws," established by 
 "the People," under that Union and that Constitution. 
 
 Of that little band who went out from us attended by our 
 best wishes and warmest prayers, and over whose footsteps 
 in the battle-field and the camp, we have ever since kept fra- 
 ternal watch ; wc know that, to-night, two are prisoners of 
 war : Another, is at home again, a victim to disease engen- 
 dered in the malarious atmosphere of peninsular Virginia : 
 Another is also at home ; a shattered, torn and mutilated 
 witness, that those who could conspire for the destruction of 
 the besfgovernment God ever vouchsafed to man, do not hesi- 
 tate to pour volley after volley into wounded men being 
 borne from the battle-field in the arms of faithful comrades. 
 But of that little group who used to minister at our shrine, 
 and who left our peaceful service at the call of duty, there is 
 another : — that other is not now in command of his Regiment ; 
 he is not at home on sick leave ; nor docs he la}'' bruised and 
 
 6 Q 
 
-9 
 
 15 
 
 wounded in some hospital ward; nor is lie languisliing a 
 prisoner in the hands of the enemy. "Parade" and "drill" 
 for him are no more ; the " reveille " will not again break in 
 upon his morning slumber ; for him the Master above has 
 sounded the "long-roll," and his soul stands now marshaled 
 on high, where the Lord of Ilosts holds grand review. 
 
 That other one left us in the very prime of life, and in the 
 strength of glorious health. And now, oh ! where now is 
 tliat out-gushing volume of life, and health, and vigor ? Gone, 
 all gone. Withered and blasted within the pestilential 
 swamps of the Chickahominy, surrounded by hundreds of 
 other brave ones who fell, like him, defending our dear old 
 flag, his body is now " mouldering away to join its kindred 
 dust." — Ko hand of friend was there to bless his mortal re- 
 mains with decent sepulture, but there where his hard press- 
 ed comrades were forced to lay him down to die — there in 
 the bushes, with face up-turned he rests to await the last 
 trump which shall summon quick and dead. Peace to thy 
 ashes, and a brotherly benison be on thee, fallen, but heroic 
 one. 
 
 It is fitting that we should "contemplate the scene ;"' and 
 in preparing this memorial of his virtues and his worth, we 
 should strive to lay to heart "the solemn admonition it 
 affords, — let it sink deep into our hearts." Remembering 
 him, let us ever aim to be in the path of duty ; let us try to 
 live, in all things, so that when the enemy assails us (as he 
 surely will) — in whatsoever form he come — we ma^^, like our 
 gallant friend and brother, "rally around our colors and beat 
 him back ;" or, failing in that, let ns, like him, fall nobly 
 battling for the Right, with our armor on and faces toward 
 the foe. 
 
 Our brother is no more. Uis bright and genial smile will 
 never again illumine our meetings here ; his deep earnestness 
 of manner and impulsive eloc|uence of voice and gesture will 
 not again, as it has so often in the past, sway the minds and 
 move the hearts of the brethren around this Lodge-room ; not 
 again on earth shall we feel the warm grasp of that brotherly 
 hand of his, which, magnetized by one of the truest and teu- 
 perest' hearts that ever animated human breast, to us has so 
 
10 
 
 many times within these walls l)een given, in sign and token 
 of greeting or instruction — in sweet memento of friendship 
 and covenanted love. " All that remains on eartli of him '' 
 we now mourn over, is hut the " sad memorial of man's mor- 
 tality — the warm heart that throbbed for others' woes,"' now 
 lies hushed and pulseless, where his noble soul plumed itself 
 and took flight to God who gave it. 
 
 Ilard-by, in 3^onder street, where for so many years he had 
 a pleasant home, a faithful wife and the enshrined memory of 
 a dead but darling child, there now lives a lonely, broken 
 hearted widow — liis widow — our sister. In the noon-day's 
 tide of life, in the solemn, awfid stillness of the deep night- 
 watches, that widowed wife paces her desolate chamber, looks 
 out upon the far oft' stars, looks in upon her own bruised 
 heart, and turns to the picture on the wall of her dead one — 
 and wuth tearfid eyes and tremulous lips, enquires, " u:ill he 
 nsver come back ?" "will he never come back"?" And stars 
 and heart and speechless picture, in measured cadence re- 
 spond to the agonized question — " never ! never ! never !" 
 
 Ai litis hearth-stone, too, oh ! brethren of ours, there is a 
 vacant chair — here, as well as yonder, must there for all time 
 remain a void — that picture of his on these walls, whose 
 frame is now so freshly and so doubly draped with the funeral 
 trappings ; that picture looks down upon us, to-night, and 
 whispers, responsive to the sighing night- winds and the pain- 
 ful throbbings oi our hearts — "never I never! never!" 
 
 The stern necessities of war deny us the mournful pleasure 
 of seeing his mortal remains committed to the tomb. But we 
 know that his memory is safely enshrined in the repository of 
 our fiiithful hearts, where we shall ever cherish it, green and 
 blessed ; a sanctified treasure, a holy heritage — which shall, 
 to some extent at least, beckon us on toward him ; draw us 
 by the sweet compulsion of love, to higher aims and nobler 
 aspirations. 
 
 Brave, true, loving, loyal brother of ours I the sacrifice thou 
 didst make w^as a tremendous one. Thou gav'st up worldly 
 interests, friends, home, wife, a dear'son's grave — yes, and 
 life itself, at thy country's call. And as we think of all that 
 thou hast done and suffered, let us reverently invoke thy 
 
 'Q 
 
17 
 
 spirit to fall upon our hearts now, and baptize them with the 
 noble impulses which made thy life beautiful, and thy death 
 enviable. Oh ! may the lesson taught by thy example be not 
 utterly in vain. May those of us who were in former days 
 thrilled and swayed by the potency of thy voice as it rang out 
 "with no uncertain sound," but pure and clear, as Truth, and 
 Right, and Humanity wei-e advocated by thee within these 
 walls : may we now, to-night, feel withniour inmost hearts as 
 we listen and catch the utterances of the '' still, small voice '" 
 whisjjering from thy soul to ours, sweet as the melody of far- 
 off silver bells — a yearning for the better things, a longing- 
 after more substantial good, which, coming to us, shall '• im- 
 prove and elevate our character, give us proper concep- 
 tions of our capabilities for good," and lead us onward and 
 upward to a more close communion with our God and 
 Father. 
 
 The labors of our brother are ended — he has gone to his 
 rest — we cannot rc(;all him — we can only mourn our loss and 
 cherish his memory. 
 
 He was, emphatically, a self made man ; he wrought out 
 his own destiny. With no unusual advantages of early edu- 
 cation, he yet, with unfaltering faith and intelligent zeal 
 luorhal. He became a most thoroughly informed man. An 
 enthusiast by nature, he loved with passionate ardor to study 
 and analyze political and humanitarian c[uestions ; his acquaint- 
 ances ranged through all classes of life and shades of politics, 
 and it is a crowning glory of his character, that he greeted 
 as warmly and cherished as dearly, his shop-mates of old, as 
 he did Senators, and Governors, and Cabinet Ministers — all 
 of whom were glad to number him on their list of friends. 
 
 Yes, our brothers life-work is done — his destiny fultilled 
 -and he has gone to that " undiscovered country from whose 
 bourne uo traveller returns.'' Thank God ! he died bravely, 
 and met his fate — 
 
 '•Not like the (juarry slave, at nigbt, 
 Scourged to his dungcoTi ; but sustained and soothed 
 V,y an unfaltering trust * * -^ * * * * 
 Like one that draws the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." 
 
 ©■ 
 
i I Q 
 
 18 
 
 The following extracts will indicate in what estimation 
 our deceased brother was held by those outside the Order and 
 with whom he has been thrown into intercourse. As signifi- 
 cant parts going to make up a character possessing so much 
 that is worthy of emulation, they deserve a place in this our 
 brotherly, monumental record (and the only one we can at 
 this time erect) of our beloved dead : 
 
 From a private Letter to Mrs Tucker, written by Cliaplain Proudfit, of 2nd 
 Regiment, Neiv Jerseij Volunteers. 
 
 City Point, Va., July 2, 1862. 
 
 la accordance with the request of Coi. Tit'KER, 1 write you a few liues. 
 As you are aware, no doubt, until recently this regiment had never been in 
 action unci had thus been almost entirely exempt from the distressing cusual- 
 ities of war. 
 
 On Friday last, however, the 1st New Jersey Brigade was ordered to 
 Woodbury "s Bridge, over the Chickahorainy, there to meet Gen. Porter's 
 Division. Hix companies of the 2nd regiment were, at that time, on picket 
 duty, under Lieut-Col. Buck, in the advanced rifle-pits of our lines. Colonel 
 TocKEB led out the remaining four companies with the rest of the Brigade. 
 From Woodbury's Bridge, our Brigade, with several others, was sent to en- 
 gage the enemy near Gaines' INCills. 
 
 Our troops were soon engaged ; they fought bravely and long, but unsuc- 
 cessfully, owing to the thick, bushy character of the country, their unfavor- 
 able position, and the overwhelming superiority of the enemy's numbers. 
 
 Under the gallant lead of Col. Tucker, the soldiers, both officers and pri- 
 vates, of the 2nd New Jersey Begiment, honorably sustained the historic repu- 
 tation of their native State. Though greatly outnumbered and flanked by 
 the enemy, they were the last to leave their portion of the field. 
 
 All accounts agree in ascribing to Colonel Tucker, particularly, signal 
 courage, discretion, and self-forgetful attention to the welfare of his men. 
 But the exhibition of these qualities only made him a more conspicuous mark 
 for rebel bullets. Some disorder commencing under the severe fire of the 
 enemy, he endeavored to rally his men about their colors. Just after, or 
 while waving his sword and loudly calling upon them to stand by their flag, 
 he was wounded in the side. Several sprang to his assistance, and began to 
 bear him from the field. But the cruel foe, not regarding the. disabled and 
 suffering condition of a wounded man, or the errand of mercy in which his 
 friends were engaged, made the little party a special target for their fire. 
 Lieut. J. W. Root, one of the party, was wounded in three places. A 
 moment after. Col. Tucker was again wounded, and exclaimed, " The coward- 
 ly fellows, they fire on wounded men." Then, perceiving that his wounds 
 wore mortal, he told his attendants to leave him and save them;'dves. ''I'hcv, 
 
19 
 
 however, persisted in bearing him forward a little further, and at length laid 
 bini down near some bushes, remaining during his hist moments. These were 
 very few. Soon, exclaiming, " My God ! .My God !"— with a gasp his spirit 
 passed away. 
 
 On Saturday morning, the enemy then occupying the field of battle, I en- 
 deavored to procure a flag of truce, intending to obtain Col. Tucker's body 
 and forward it to Newark for interment, but under the existing circumstances, 
 our commanding (general thought it impossiljle to send such a flag, and I 
 deferred the execution of my pui-pose. No opportunity has yet occurred. 
 
 {From the Newark Daily Mercurij,Jidij5.) 
 DEATH OF COLONEL TUCKER. 
 
 A rumor that in the late battle before Eicbmond ColonellsAAC M.Tucker, 
 of the Second New Jersey Regiment, had been killed, reached this city on 
 Thursday afternoon, but was generally discredited. On Friday, however, 
 tlie rumor proved to be but too true, his name appearing prominently in the 
 ]ist of killed and wounded, and letters giving details of his death being re- 
 ceived and published. The effect of this intelligence in the community it 
 would be difRcult to describe. It fell upon thousands with the power of a 
 personal affliction. Few men among us were more widely esteemed than Col. 
 TrcKER. Of most pleasing manners, possessing the highest order of intelli- 
 gence, and exhibiting in all his intercourse with the world the truest instincts 
 of the gentleman, there was no man anywhere whom he did not esteem it a 
 pleasure to serve, and no man. consequently, who did not regard him as a friend. 
 For at least ten years past, though comparatively a young man, he had been 
 influentially identified with the politics and public movements of the State, 
 and there are few, among our most eminent citizens, whose judgment and abil- 
 ity in the wide range of political operations, were his superiors. In ISad he 
 wa« a member of the State Republican Executive Committee, and both in 
 his official and private capacity, rendered important service to the cause 
 which he so loved. Before the formation of the Second Regiment — surren- 
 dering a lucrative practice at the bar — in June, 1861, he was elected as 
 Lieut-Colonel, being subse(iuently promoted to the Colonelcy on the retire- 
 ment of Colonel McLean. With his men, he was most popular : and as he 
 would have chosen, he fell at the liead of the command which he had so care- 
 fully and laboriously trained to fight for tlie principles of nationality and 
 Union. 
 
 Not only here, but throughout the State at huge, tlie news of his fall upon 
 the field will occasion deep and profound porrow. But lie fell in a holy cause 
 — in the day of the nation's resurrection to a better and sublimer life, and in 
 the annals of this war he will be immortal. Mi\y (Jod soothe tenderlv the 
 hearts, from which this blow has rent away the stay and proj). 
 
 O' 
 
20 
 
 {From the Army Corrc^iiondent of the Newark Daily Advertiser.) 
 
 HEROIS^E OF THE " JERSEY BLUES.' 
 
 In Camp, near James River, ) 
 July r)tli. 18G2. j" 
 
 The Ist New Jersey Bri.2:ade has at last been baptized in lilood. New 
 Jersey has lost many of her sons, but they died fighting bravely ; they died 
 like heroes — let our little State mourn its loss. 
 
 Col. I. M. Tucker, of our city, was, I regret to say, killed in the action. 
 He fell severely wounded at the head of his regiment, while rallying his men, 
 and as he was being carried from the field was again shot, and fatally. He 
 was being assisted from the field by Lieut. J. W. Root, who was severely 
 wounded by a shell while doing so. Col. Tucker's praise is on every tongue, 
 and his regiment is inconsolable at their loss. He was cool, calm and brave 
 as a lion, and almost his last words were, "Don't mind me. boys, but go ahead 
 and give it to them." I met the Colonel just before he entered the woods 
 with his regiment, and shook hands with him. He was perfectly collected, 
 and smilingly said, "Things are rather hot in there, and I think some of us will 
 never come out, but the Jei-sey boys will do their duty." Poor fellow — he 
 died a soldier's death and merits a hero's name. 
 
 THE LATE COLONEL TUCKER. 
 'I'he New Brunswick Fredonian, speaking of the death of Col. Tucker, says : 
 He was a true patriot, and went into this war under the high impulse of duty. 
 His services to his regiment were most valuable — he being ever active and 
 laborious in training his command for the important part it was to perform 
 on the battle-field, and the behaviour of the men on that trying occasion was 
 his best eulogy. He fell, as a soldier should fall, with his face to the foe, 
 urging his men to rally around the banner of their country, and protect it 
 from the assaults of its dastardly enemies. Green may the grass grow over 
 his noble form, and his example be ever kept prominently in view by all gal- 
 lant souls. His death will certainly long be mourned by all who knew him, 
 as we did. 
 
 Much more might be added — less we could not say in 
 justice to our brother, and to our own feelings : 
 
 "Our dead are like the stars, by day 
 
 Withdrawn from mortal eye. 
 
 Yet holding unpcrceived their way 
 
 Through the unclouded sky. 
 
 By them, through holy hope and love. 
 
 "We feel, in hours serene. 
 Connected with a world above, 
 
 Tnmiortal and unseen. 
 
21 
 
 For death his sacred seal hath set 
 
 On bright and bygone hours ; 
 And they we mourn arc witli us yet , 
 
 Are more than evci- oar's ; 
 Our's, by the pledge of Love and Faith, 
 
 Hy hopes of Heaven oh high ; 
 By trust, triumphant over death, 
 
 In immortality." 
 
 Resolved, That while we mourn, most sincerely, the lo?s of our brother 
 Isaac M. Tucker, our sadness is mellowed by the reflection that he fell at the 
 post of duty. 
 
 — That to his afflicted widow we offer the true, genuine sympathy of 
 fraternal hearts ; who know by their own sorrowing, something of the deep 
 suffering she is now experiencing ; and measurhig her grief by our own, we 
 feel that for the consolation she needs in this hour of bitter trial, she must 
 look alone to Him who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and " in 
 whose hands are all our ways." 
 
 — That the Charter ot this Lodge and the Chair of the P. (r. be draped 
 in mourning for the period of six months. 
 
 — That this memorial be entered upon the Journal of the Lodge, and a 
 copy thereof, under the Seal of the Lodge and signatures of the N. C and 
 Secretarv, be forwarded to Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 JAMES T). CLEAVER. | 
 
 B. B. DOUGLAS. | 
 
 THEODORE A. ROSS, 1 Committee. 
 
 FRANK R. FORCE, | 
 
 WM. STAINSBY, | 
 
 The Committee appointed under the second Resolution, 
 having in charge a public tribute of respect for the memory 
 of our deceased brother, made the necessary arrangements 
 hy inviting Brother Jonx Y. Fostek, of Protection Lodge, 
 to pronounce the Oration, and the Choir of the Third Pres- 
 byterian Church to perform the Music — the Rev. Dr. Cjiavkx, 
 Pastor of the Church, olficiating in Prayer. 
 
 The services took place on Friday evening, July 25, 1862. 
 An immense audience was in attendance, who manifested by 
 their close attention and reverent demeanor, the high respect 
 and warm love of this community for the fallen hero, Tlu^ 
 edifice was chastely hung with appropriate emblems, the 
 beautiful banner under Avhosc folds he died being intertwined 
 
o- 
 
 22 
 
 with the mournful sables of grief. Over the pulpit hung a 
 beautiful wreath of ivy leaves and white blossoms, emblems 
 of Immortality and Hope. 
 
 At 8 o'clock the brethren of tlic Lodge, with delegations 
 from the Grand Lodge of Southern New York, and from 
 Paterson, Jersey City, Trenton and other places in this State, 
 entered the Church in a body and took their seats in the 
 middle aisle pews — the front seats being occupied by a num- 
 ber of officers and soldiers of the Army of the Potomac, 
 now in this city, among whom was Lieut, Root, Avho 
 was severely wounded while assisting Colonel Tucker from 
 the lield. There were also present several invited guests of 
 high distinction in the Order. 
 
 Passed Grand Master David Campbell, presided over 
 the exercises, which were opened with some feeling remarks 
 by him ; a chant by the Choir was then performed, after 
 which Rev. Dr. Craven offered an appropriate prayer, fol- 
 lowed by the singing of the following invocation, written for 
 the occasion by P. G. Bailey B. Douglas : 
 
 Almighty Father, God ; 
 
 Before Thy throne we bow ; 
 With this infliction of Thy rod, 
 
 Thy grace, oh Lord, bestow 
 
 Our hearts in sorrow bleed 
 
 By thine affliction sore, 
 Thy promises oh Lord, we plead. 
 
 They are forever sure. 
 
 Be Thou the widow's God, 
 
 Be Thou her shield and stay, 
 And spread thy mercies, all abroad 
 
 Her life's now darkened way. 
 
 Give her to feel Thy love 
 
 In all that thou dost do ; 
 Oh may she on this heavy cloud, 
 
 Of promise see the bow. 
 
 Afake us oh Lord, to learn, 
 / By thy mysterious ways ; 
 
 Our hearts to wisdom now to turn. 
 And number too, our days. 
 
It is Avith no idle thought that I address myself to the duty 
 your partiality and kindness have devolved upon me to-night. 
 I feel that we stand in an august presence — the presence of a 
 life sanctified by martyrdom to high and holy duty ; exalted, 
 and in its influence and exafiiple made immortal in the very 
 hour its mortal pulse was stilled. I feel, moreover, that this 
 is a solemn time — a time, in whose heart- beats the life 
 of liberty and humanity is being measured in majestic 
 rhythm — in wliich upon every loyal soul is laid the burden 
 of a nation's fate ; and it befits us, in so grave a time, to walk 
 with reverent steps where the Father leads us, and contem- 
 plate with profoundest earnestness, the providences He orders 
 — the duties tliey evolve. 
 
 We come to-night to record, in this holy place so fiimiliar 
 to liim living, our feeble tribute of respect to a friend and 
 brother, dead — to testify before the world of the grievous loss 
 we have, as Odd Fellows, and as citizens, sustained. Yet, 
 friends and brethren, I shall pronounce no jianegyric upon 
 the departed one. Isaac Miller Tucker needs, at my hands, 
 no eulogy. " None knew him but to love him, none named 
 him but to praise." His life is its own eulogy — his death 
 was a panegyric of more than epic grandeur. I have, there- 
 fore, but briefly to sketch his association with our Order, his 
 services in the field, and then interpret, as best I may, for our 
 niutual i>rofit, the suggestions of this occasion. 
 
 The connexion of the deceased with our Order dates from 
 the 11th day of March, 1846, when he was initiated as a mem- 
 ber of Protection Lodge. Taking from the first the liveliest 
 interest in the Order, he rapidly advanced from grade to 
 grade, until in December, 1852, he passed the Chair. In Julv, 
 1854, he was unanimously elected the Representative of Pro- 
 
24 
 
 tection Lodge in the Grand Lodge of this jurisdiction, and in 
 the following year was chosen as the Kepresentative of the 
 Grand Lodge of Kew Jersey in the Grand Lodge of the 
 tnited States, being again elected in '57 by the Grand En- 
 campment of this State as her Eepresentative in the highest 
 Assembly of the Order. At the session of the National Grand 
 Lodge in 1858, he was appointed by the Grand Sire as Grand 
 Marshal of that body for the 3'ear 1859 and 1860; and in 
 that capacity he had in charge, at the celebration of the 4th 
 anniversary of the Order, observed in New York city, April 
 26, 1859, the largest procession ever seen, perhaps, on this 
 continent. During all this period, in which the highest 
 honors of the Order were worthify conferred upon him, its in- 
 terests were steadily sought to be promoted ; and we feel that 
 we, of all men, have a right to mourn his loss and to exalt his 
 name in the eyes of all around. 
 
 But it is not alone or mainly as an Odd Fellow that we 
 think of our dead friend to-night. It is as the true-souled 
 patriol, giving his life unto his country, that we chiefly love 
 now to remember and do him honor. But even tlu's aspect 
 of his career we may only view in hurried panorama, two 
 views i)resentin£f its commandimr features : 
 
 On the 27th day of June, 1861, the Second Eegiment of 
 New Jersey Volunteers, 1,000 strong, Lieut-Col. Tucker in 
 command, broke camp at Trenton, and under direct orders 
 from Gen. Scott, left for Washington. It was my privilege 
 and good fortune to accompany them in their journey. All 
 the w;iy irom the Delaware to the Potomac, their progress 
 was one continuous ovation. In the Monumental City 
 especially — and I record the incident in this connexion be- 
 cause it involved in it an illustration of the resolute character 
 of the deceased—the reception of the Jersey Blues was mag- 
 nilicent in its enthusiasm. The Regiment reached that city 
 on the morning of the 2Sth, but a few hours after the arrest 
 of Marshal Kane, and the discovery of secreted arms on his 
 premises. Not forgetting that Massachusetts' blood stil) 
 freshly stained its pavements : that treason loitered still with 
 shotted gun and whetted knife in all the purlieus of Pratt 
 street. Col. Tucker, a little distance without the city limits, 
 
@. 
 
 had ordered his flank companies to load their pieces with ball 
 cartridge — resolved, that if attacked, the Regiment should 
 defend itself to the last. No Regiment, it should be here re- 
 marked, had for many days marched through the city, but 
 Col. Tucker was determined not to steal under cover of the 
 cars, and the protection they offered, to his destination. Tin- 
 men were disembarked, the line was formed, the music broke 
 into a merry peal, and with lirm and steady mien, the Regi- 
 ment marched out into the crowded streets* — hailed evei}'- 
 where with rapturous acclamations — cambric welcomes wav- 
 ing from balcony and window ; smiling fiices, with now^ and 
 then a scowling visage peering through, brightening all our 
 way. Every man of that brave thousand rejoiced to follow 
 their leader where so few, since that dark April day, had 
 gone ; and all felt, and justly too, that in the hour of peril 
 and of death, he would not falter nor turn back. 
 
 How fully our brother realized, in his brief career, this 
 thought and expectation of his command, I need not here 
 pause to show. It need only be said he was the brave and 
 faithful soldier ever, and met a soldier's death with a soldier's 
 royal fortitude. 
 
 On the 27th day of June, 1862, the Second Regiment, lying 
 at Gaines' Farm, on the Peninsula, was ordered to a post of 
 danger, strongly menaced by the enemy. Four companies, 
 under command of Col. Tucker, advanced boldly into the 
 breach. Soon the battles' roar and death engulphed them. 
 Fiercely, and in the Hush of triumph, heavy masses of the 
 foe dashed against their weakened columns. But nobly they 
 stood their ground, meeting with uublanched faces the tem- 
 pest of hail and fire. But still the masses of the foe pressed 
 in upon them on every side. Then it was, that in the very 
 mouth of death, our friend and brother signalized the real 
 heroism of his soul. In the very thickest of the danger his 
 form appeared — and above the diapason of musketry and 
 cannon, his rally ing-cry was heard. And then it was he 
 fell — fell in front of his command — bravely otYering his life 
 on the nation's altar — fell, with the battle's din around him — 
 the old flag flying still above him — loll, his face to the foe, 
 as he had wished to fall, if fall he must. 
 4 
 
26 
 
 But one little year from that hour in wliicli death came to 
 him amid the glare of deadly strife, at the head of his com- 
 mand — with drums beating and .bugles playing, and stand- 
 ards gaily flying, with a wifely kiss fresh upon his lips, he 
 had marched out from camp with face turned Yirginia-ward. 
 Then, from unnumbered voices, rapturous acclaims pealed 
 upon the air. Now, with a ruthless foe pressing' hard upo)i 
 him, with life ebbing — with no time to speak fare wells — hard- 
 ly with time to sob a snatch of prayer — the soldier has found 
 death and immortality on the field whereto he came with ex- 
 ultant hope and nerved for any fate. 
 
 Few men in the army of the Union liave made greater 
 sacrifices in quitting the familiar j^cenes of home for the tent- 
 ed field, than Colonel Tucker. Enjoying a social position 
 occupied by very few of like age and antecedents ; promi- 
 nently identified with all public movements of whatever 
 nature ; possessing in a rare degree the i.)Ower to control men 
 and parties; successful in every rightful ambitious aim of 
 his life — with a career of usefulness and honor spreading out 
 invitingly before him — it was to him a sacrifice, indeed, to 
 drop every tie, surrender all the fondly cherished purposes 
 of his life — abdicate the possibility of civil elevation and pre- 
 ferment — and, with his life in his hand, enter upon scenes 
 entirel}'- foreign to his habits. No man loved more than he 
 the tijiP, of power for jn'oper ends — the applause and esteem of 
 his coteraporaries — the enjoyments of familiar pursuits. But 
 he rightly discerned that all honors must pale in a time like 
 this, before that the defender of his country wins; he felt it 
 was his duty to go to the field ; it was a conviction penetrating- 
 all his thought and feeling that community had a right to ex- 
 feet of him, and others like him, a prompt and hearty re- 
 sponse to the nation's call. In that conviction, lie left all — 
 friends, home, ever^'thing — he girded his armor on, stood in 
 his lot as a brave man should ; and to-night we have his 
 memory only, with these badges of a mourning that not yet 
 is comforted. 
 
 But, my friends, there is a higher than a personal signifi- 
 cance in the services of this hour. 
 
 The thought which this occasion especially suggests nn- 
 
-9 
 
 27 
 
 doulDtcdly is this, that the prosecution of the war against 
 Rebellion invDlves a tearful sacrilice of property and life — 
 incalculable injiny to all materialinterests, with wide-spread 
 exhaustion of the vital ibrccs of society and the State. AVe 
 have already convincing evidence that a revolt so formidable 
 and defiant, — so murderous and infernal in all its instincts 
 and aims — a revolt whose capital criminality is in its as- 
 sault upon constitutional suftVage - can only be subdued liy 
 measures the most terrible and dead!}' — by fire and sword, 
 through sufferings and desolation such as, perhaps, no later 
 century has known. How many orphaned ones, w^alking 
 through the coming years, will bear in their lives, stripped 
 of their foliage and bloom, the scars this war has made ? 
 How many fathers, how many mothers, marching with solemn 
 pace to the land, up yonder, whose hills are white with tents, 
 will mourn the dear son fallen in life's sweetest prime ? 
 Upon how many door-posts, the red finger-print will shine in 
 the eyes of coming generations: in how many grave-yards 
 upon mouldering and moss-hung tomb-stones, your children 
 and mine, wandering thitherward, hand-in-hand, in golden 
 summer-days, will read this epitaph and prayer : " Here lies 
 one wdio gave his life for liis countr}^ — may God's Angels 
 roll the stone from the grave's mouth away, in the day of His 
 coming." Yes, this war is making bloody havoc, in saddest 
 truth, throughout our land. Its scythed chariots roll with 
 maddest fury and unrestrained velocity, everywhere. Over 
 all ranks and conditions of society, its baleful shadow 
 svveeps. None can escape its calamitous influence — no inter- 
 est is exempt from its desolating touch. Commerce no longer 
 floats her argosies in every inland sea and river, making all 
 our harbors vocal with cheery sailor-songs. Science no more 
 explores in forest depths or Artie seas for treasures the world 
 has, through all the ages, been searching for. Art no more 
 interprets in chiseled column and on speaking canvass the 
 thought and outbreaking life of aspiring peoples. The busy 
 hands of labor, far and near, are prone and still — the loom 
 and spindle, the adze and saw and chisel— all these are hush- 
 ed in silence ; and in shop and factory doors the spiders 
 weave their webs all undisturbed. War is abroad in the 
 
 X 
 
o 
 
 28 
 
 land ; Death and Desolation are treading down the dearest 
 interests and affections. 
 
 Now, inevitably because logical!}', the enquiry which 
 arises from a contemplation of these fearful desolations is 
 this : Is the stake of the conflict worth the price we are pay- 
 ing? In order that we may answer intelligentl}- and wisely 
 this grave enquiry, we must understand perfectly luhat it is 
 we are fighting to maintain. And as a means to this, it will 
 not be improper to address us for a moment to a considera- 
 tion of the principles and the structure of our Government, 
 and the animus and purpose of the men who seek its destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 The study and effort oi the great and good of all times, 
 and of all the systems of civil polity that ever warmed the 
 world with a single ray of freedom, has been to secure^ under 
 the swcuj of law, ih.Q persons and properties of the people. The 
 Government of this Union is the highest and broadest em- 
 bodiment and expression, which has yet been given, in any 
 age or country, to this grandly humane idea. It is construct- 
 ed essentially upon the principles that only by the restraint 
 of each from doing injury to any^ can the safety of all be 
 secured. In it the people themselves are miaged, and, as it 
 were, epitomized. Every citizen is a constituent in the ag- 
 gregate of responsibility and authority. However complica- 
 ted our system of public polity, it is all rooted in and branches 
 from the trust of the people — the trust of powers which they 
 have granted, to be returned in protection. This, summarily 
 stated, is the theory of our Government, and it is plain upon 
 mere inspection, that the Government is. and must be, as in- 
 destructible as the people themselves. 
 
 Now, this rebellion proposes the establishment of a princi- 
 ple which would necessarilv be fatal to our existence as one 
 comjDOsite nation. The American Union represents the con- 
 stituent sovereignty of all the States. In it, every State is in 
 itself — whether normally or not, we will not stop now to con- 
 sider — a sovereignty in the exercise of absolute jurisdiction 
 and authority, save over a certain class of subjects, which it 
 lias surrendered and given Congress the power expressly to 
 control. Each State is secure in the enjoyment of perfect 
 
 6 O 
 
2U 
 
 freedom and independence, being subject to no restraints that 
 are not Aviiolly self-imjDosed, while, at the same time, overall, 
 the national authority in its oneness, is, in all that concerns 
 the nation's self, independent and supreme. The grand idea 
 of nationality, — of nihering, original life in the State — un- 
 derlies our whole structure of Government. The thought 
 which was in the Father's hearts when, to escape the evils of 
 the Confederation and "establish a more perfect Government,"' 
 they formed the Constitution, was this, that the Union being 
 the sovereignty of the People chrystalizcd, was a perpetual 
 principle, competent always, — nay normally and necessarily 
 endowed with the ri//hi,. to protect its own existence, and to 
 put down with a strong hand, all turbulence and faction, all 
 revolt and insurrection, in whatever form appearing. They 
 never conceived it to be possible that the People would rebel 
 against themselves, seeking the annihilation of their own 
 sovereignty— forming their only and exclusive protection 
 against license and oppression. They believed, and they were 
 right, that the central authority of a Government resting in 
 the affections and the interests, and consolidating within it- 
 self the rights of the people, would be sufficient to maintain 
 the nation's life, however formidably menaced ; and herefrom 
 it arises that so absolute is the freedom of every citizen that, 
 in so far as any restraints it imposes are concerned, he may 
 live for years without in his personal experience, save only i'l 
 the protection he enjoy?, realizing that we have any Govern- 
 ment at all. 
 
 This, then — the sovereignty of the people— respect for the 
 rights of eve/'i/ citizen, with the idea of inherent nationality, 
 indissoluble and perpetual — forms the basis of this Govern- 
 ment. But the theory, lor sixty years, of Southern politi- 
 cians has directly antagonized this of the Fathers. They hold 
 that each individunl State is absolute — complete in all the 
 functions of nationality — owing no allegiance to the Union 
 conflicting with its actual or imagined interests as a State : 
 that the relation between it and the Union is in no acta;il 
 sense imperative or perpetual, but may be dissolved when- 
 ever the State may elect to resume so much of its sovereign- 
 ty as it may have jibdicatod : that in one word, their allegi- 
 
so 
 
 ancc is duo first to the Siate^ and only secondarily to Federal 
 authority, and then for such time only as it may itself deter- 
 mine. This, we sa}', is the theory of the South, and it needs 
 no argument to show that this theory is a standing menace 
 to the liberties and franchises of the peojDle. Indeed, it is 
 already proclaimed in Secessia, that '" the right to govern 
 resides in a very small minority ; the duty to obey is inherent 
 in the great mass of mankind." Debows Review^ the recog- 
 i'ij 1 ex ponent of Southern aristocracy, exjjlicitly avows that 
 the aim of tlie insurgents is to establish propertied restraints 
 upon the exercise of the right to vote, and to build up an 
 Aristocratic class, in which the chief power shall be lodged. 
 '■ To make an aristocrat in the future," says this organ, '• u:e 
 must sacrifice a tJtoiisand paujjers." Even from Southern pul- 
 pits, this same doctrine is announced. Says a Charleston 
 Divine : " The source of all infidelity, vice and national de- 
 moralization is attributable, in a great measure, to the loose- 
 ness of the Declaration of Independence, and the existence 
 of its natural out-growth, the absurd doctrine of universal 
 suffrage.' 
 
 It certainly cainiot be doubted, in view of these declara- 
 tions, that it is primarily, this principle of hostility to the 
 p(jwer and rights of the people, and to that element of sov- 
 eignty wliich knits all the States into one, that the men in 
 revolt propose to establish. It is easy to perceive that their 
 success upon the doctrine that a State may at will secede from 
 the Union, would be fatal to the Eepublic and the sovereign- 
 ty of the people. The triumph of this sentiment, would 
 present to the world the spectacle of people abdicating the 
 right to live, and practically invoicing the horrors of revolu- 
 tion. It would lead, inevitably, to a process of disintegra- 
 tion, in which our nationality would be as utterly and hope- 
 lessly extinguished as the glory of the old Eepublics, when 
 they split into factions and discordant cabals. Instead of 
 forming, as in the present, a great constellation of States, 
 revolving around the central orb of Constitutional Liberty, 
 we would crumble, hopelessly, into chaos, — the weak falling 
 victims to the stronger — Lust and Passion seizing from the 
 hands of Sobriety and Reason the svmbols of Authority, and 
 
o- 
 
 31 
 
 Oppression writing on all its altars, in characters of blood, the 
 mournful epitaph of a nation self-destroyed. 
 
 Now it certainly can need no argument to determine that 
 a stake substantially involving our own existence, and all the 
 rights and issues proceeding from it, is worth the vastest ag- 
 gregate of values possible to be accumulated. Life, no less to 
 the nation than to the individual, is the organic necessity for 
 whose satisfaction all things, witliin human reach, will be 
 given. To save it, to sustain it, at whatever amount of sac- 
 rifice or of suffering, is a primal duty no less than an ele- 
 mental instinct : and we may therefore assume, without any 
 logical elaboration of the suggestions of the case, that the 
 life of this nation — the vindication of our menaced integrity 
 — is worth ail the terrible price we are paying for it in this 
 day of suffering and carnage. 
 
 There is another aspect of this subject which should not 
 be overlooked in a consideration of the significance of the 
 present struggle, and our duty in reference to it. While it 
 is sadly true that this unhappy conflict is weakening all tlie 
 foundations of social tranquility and order, demolishing in a 
 common ruin its private and corporate interests, and supplant- 
 ing the holiest and most sacred impulses of benevolence and 
 love by the fierce antagonisms of section and of faction, it is 
 equally true that in this experience there is nothing novel or 
 unnatural. As a people, whatever may have been our pros- 
 perit}!', however profound our peace, in the past, we had no 
 right to expect an exemption from the casualties and afllic- 
 tions common to all national growth and expansion. No 
 people whose eminence has been sufficient to engage the his- 
 torian's pen, have ever altogether escaped the ills of war and 
 bloodshed. In all ages of the world, it has been through the 
 gaps and seams and rents which the sword and scimetar have 
 made, that God has poured upon mankind the blessings of 
 expanded knowledge and a higher civilization. This Ameri- ' 
 can Republic, from whose royal arches traitor hands seek to- 
 day to pluck the Keystone, was reared through years of suf- 
 fering and strife, its every stone baptized in blood and tenrs. 
 Indeed, oui* marvellous growth and progress as a nation 
 may legitimately be said to bo chiefly due to the stern disci- 
 
32 
 
 jDline our'character sustained in the beginnings of our liisto- 
 ry — a discipline which inculcated a love of freedom and hu- 
 manity, taught us the value of the homelier virtues, and es- 
 ]3ecially dignified in our eyes man as man, without reference 
 at all to adventitious circumstance. Through the sufferings, 
 tlie chaos, the embarrassments from which we emerged at the 
 formation of the Government now assailed, the national 
 character was compacted and knit together, the sturdiest vir- 
 tues and loftiest humanitarian graces being woven into its 
 texture. In that long straggle, all crudities and dissimilari- 
 ties before existing, ivere melted down and removed ; we were 
 molded into one solid, homogeneous people. But in these 
 later years, forgetting the principles of the father, worship- 
 ping Mammon rather than Truth and Duty — ceasing to care 
 for principle, but pursuing, day and night, worthless pelf, — 
 we have grown materialistic — have suffered stalwart wrongs 
 to grow up in our national life — have mocked at human 
 rights, and made sport of the weak, and now God comes to 
 us in the thunder and the whirlwind, shaking down the 
 strongholds of our pride and ambition, shivering the altars 
 where we have burned incense to the gods of this world, and 
 stirring to their lowest depths the currents of our national life. 
 This, we repeat, is the exact method by which the Almighty 
 has, in all ages, roused earth's besotted peoples to a percep- 
 tion of tlieir duty and their errors, — causing them to walk 
 amid the ruins of their prostrated ambitions, that they might 
 see there is a higher standard of living than any man will 
 institute or maintain. Especially in the earlier ages were 
 most striking illustrations afforded of this Divine disciplining 
 of the nations. "Who — standing amid the desolations that 
 overwhelmed tlie Roman Empire, when the Northern barba- 
 rians, in resistless irruptions, laid waste all its borders, would 
 have supposed that out of these very desolations a new and 
 ■ better civilization would arise, and be carried to the for ends 
 of the earth, a]:>pearing, as the years went on, in new and 
 vigorous nationalities, in whose veins flowed no drop of the 
 old corruptions? In that day when Attilla had overrun all 
 the plains of Italy, the civilized world seemed sinking into 
 savage barliarisni and decay : religion, literature, and the arts, 
 
 ■a 
 
seemed crumbling never again to rise. Yet, God was in tlic 
 tempest, and from this very chaos, He raised grander and 
 worthier States, — commonwealths whose stateliness and pow- 
 er for centuries stood the amazement of the world. Rome, 
 once omnipotent and pure, had ceased to be worthy of re- 
 spect ; her manners were corrupted — her literature and relig- 
 ion were debauched by superstition ; genius, liberty, virtue, 
 had altogether ceased ; all things had become venal ; the race 
 was steeped in corruption. There was no hope or possibility 
 that U])on tlie foundation of Roman life and culture, a gospel 
 civilization could be budded. Therefore, from the heart of 
 countries unknown to this degenerate people — from tlie 
 North and East'and South, with great tumult of arms, in- 
 numerable hordes of barbarians rushed in impetuous masses 
 over the land, driving the people before them in dismay — 
 overturning nation after nation — first beating down the 
 gates of Rome, then bursting over the ramparts into the af- 
 frighted streets of Carthage, pitilessly destroying the 
 wrecks of Rome, thither tlown for refuge — tJien desolating 
 Gaul, leaving a trail of blood and tire behind them every- 
 where. But in all this destruction, unconsciously to tlie 
 scouri2:ing barbarians themselves, tht^re was method and or- 
 der, for from the ruin a new world was to emerge. Tlu^ 
 great catastrophe of the annihilation of Rome as a nation, a 
 work of years, was accomplished by the operation of causes 
 which liad been gathering strength and force for centuries. 
 And wlien the winds of God had scattered tlie dust of the 
 countless armies of Alaric, Genseric and AttiHa. around tlic 
 few feeble pillars of the old nationality which remained, God 
 grouped his gospehbuilders, under whoso genial touch a new 
 civilization gradually arose, which, broadening and deepen- 
 ing as the years went on, became at length paramount and 
 supreme, conipellini: a world to respeet its authority and 
 ])Ower. 
 
 We need not, surely, ].)oint to the history of other nations, 
 or to later times, in further illustration of (uu- i)ostulute that 
 every people, commissioned of God to perform some part in 
 His economy and administration, must expect to endure, as 
 their assessment of benefits to the connnoii troasurv ofman- 
 
 O- 
 
34 
 
 kind, the perils and disasters of strife and war. It is only 
 through toil and privation — in the midst of dangers the most 
 absolute, demanding the assertion of all their energies, that 
 a people can comprehend and develope their real strength, 
 or learn to respect the Divine impulses of our nature. And 
 thus we can readily discern that this war is by no means an 
 evil without compensation. It may swallow up our best be- 
 loved, — it may open graves in the very paths in which we 
 walk — it may fill the land with mourning, but still, up from 
 its ghastly furrows, a harvesi of good will rise, which, if not 
 ourselves, our children will, in coming years of recompense, 
 joyously gather in. 
 
 That, in this aspect of this subject, we should rather re- 
 joice than sorrow over the sufferings we are experiencing, 
 must be obvious to all. No one will pretend that we did 
 not deserve the chastisement tliat has come upon us. Yet, 
 deserved as it is, our very punishment, in the yearning love 
 of the Father, is made a means of elevation and improve- 
 ment. With all our frailties and shortcomings, He yet dig- 
 nifies us as instruments for achieving results involving the 
 benefaction, not onl^'- of ourselves, but of the world at 
 large. Certainly to any higher altitude than this it would 
 1)0 impossible for any human soul to aspire ! In the grand- 
 est disciplinary Providences wdiicli the century has known, 
 we are directly God's servitors, doing immediately His office- 
 work ; — that is the verdict which is passing into history of 
 each and every man who in this conflict does his duty with 
 fearless soul. Thus, every mother who gives her darling — 
 every wife who, Avith a kiss and blessing, sends her husband 
 to the field ; — every sister who gives a brother, every child 
 who gives a father, is a contributor to the Grand Result 
 which God purposes to mature, out of these troubles and 
 alarms. And through all, since the peril and the suffering 
 reach doivn to all, our character as individuals and as a nation 
 is being radically purified and exalted ; we are learning the 
 value of our institutions and our liberties — we are growing 
 up to the highest standards of duty and of citizenship ; vce 
 are learning to reverence, not the forms, but the soid of our 
 civilization. We are fiffhtinc;- the battle of Freedom and 
 
Humanity — are vindicatini;- anew, on oia- battle-fields, the 
 truths of all the ages which the rebellion menaces with de- 
 struction, and the essential dignity of the cause attaches 
 necessarily to our personal character and efforts, clothing us 
 with a halo whose rndiance shall shine far down the cominfr 
 centuries. 
 
 It is true, undoubtedly, that we cannot with propriety in- 
 terpret the purposes and doings of Divine Providence ; but 
 this general principle is indubitable, that " out of evil, God 
 still and uniformly educes good." However dark and mys- 
 terious His plans, by whatever sufferings and trials of man- 
 kind. He advances His purpose, that purpose always con- 
 templates His own glory and the highest good of His crea- 
 tures. We may, therefore, unhesitatingly assume that all 
 these present troubles and afHictions tend to some glorious 
 end, and that also, our cause is approved and favored of 
 Heaven. From the very outset, there have been the most 
 marked and conspicuous Divine interpositions in our behalf 
 What was the disaster at Bull Run but a blessing in dis- 
 guise ? And what a signal Providence was the flood of the 
 Potomac immediately thereafter, preventing a movement by 
 the enemy against the Capital of the Nation, and forbidding 
 the possibility of a raid, (while our army lay panting and 
 helpless about Washington,) into Maryland, so long coveted 
 l)y the victorious foe ? And again, in that famous naval com- 
 bat in Hampton Roads, what a striking Providence Avas the 
 appearance, just at the pivotal moment, of the little Monitor, 
 whose exploits not only saved the Federabfleet, but revolu- 
 tionized the whole science of naval architecture and coast- 
 wise defences? AVc need not enumerate the instances in 
 which the Almighty Arm has been signally revealed in our 
 defences ; it is enough to say that these interventions have 
 been the marvel of the War ; and it should solace and 
 strengthen our hearts in every hour of disaster that the 
 God of our Fathers has, indeed, spread His shield over our 
 heads in these days of carnage and peril. 
 
 These/ads, my friends, in the suggestions this occasion es- 
 pecially presents, may be accepted as satisfactorily proven. 
 That tlie suppression of revolt involves a fearful expendi- 
 
36 
 
 ture of life and property : that the stake involved in the 
 conflict is wortli the price we pay ; and that this cost, or 
 penalty, if thus you choose to call it, is but a natural con- 
 dition of our being as a people — a legitimate and inevi^ble 
 contribution we, in common with all nations of the world, 
 must make toward the general fimd of human growth and 
 happiness. 
 
 But, iu the present attitude of national atfairs, to which it 
 is eminently proper in this connection to refer, the question 
 naturally thrusts itself before the mind : Con this rebellion 
 be suppressed, and the Union reconstructed upon an endur- 
 ing basis ? This, we say, in view of late events, is a ques- 
 tion of paramount interest and importance. In its consid- 
 eration, we afiirm, 23rimarily, that the suppression of the 
 revolt is esscniial — essential alike to the stability of society 
 and the domination of civilization itself. We affirm next, 
 that because we believe it to be essential, it will, in our 
 opinion, come to pas.^. 
 
 We believe, also, that the rebellion will be feduced, be- 
 cause, negatively, it is impossible for the revolted States to 
 withdraw from the Union — the entire question being subor- 
 didate to fixed and immutable laws ; these being physi- 
 cal and geographical disabilities to separation, which are no 
 more capable of removal, than the Alps can be quarried from 
 their base with a wisp of straw. Contemplate for one mo- 
 ment the dif&culty of division. Who, in case of separation, 
 .shall possess Washington ? Who shall fix the frontiers ? 
 Will the inhabitants of the vast and' sturdy W^est, of those 
 States which form the basin of the Mississippi, Missouri and 
 the Ohio, give up the navigation of those essential avenues, or 
 consent that ISTew Orleans, sitting by the mouth of the imperial 
 Father of Waters, shall belong to another — a hostile country ? 
 Can any man believe that this great American Republic 
 — whose power reaches to the remotest ends of the earth — 
 whose influence measurably shakes the policy of every ci-vil- 
 ized nation — with a territorial expanse neaily ten times as 
 great as that of Great Britain and France combined — three 
 times as large as the whole of France, Britain, Austria, Prus- 
 sia, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Holland and Denmark; togeth- 
 
37 
 
 er; of equal extent witli tlie Komaii Empire and that of 
 Alexander — whose resources and al)ility //i((y embrace a con- 
 tinent — will consent to be dei)rived of its Southern frontiers, 
 its ports in the Gulf — of Louisiana, of Florida, of Texas, 
 which we bought with a price? Can any one believe that, 
 once . divided, it will ever be possible to adjust accounts with 
 an insolvent neighbor, establishing a tariff of damages due 
 for Federal property, for repudiated debts, and for reciprocal 
 sequestrations? To separate North and South, it would be 
 necessary, as one has said, to draw I know not what indefi- 
 nite line through the loyal and the insurgent States — across 
 rivers, and mountains, and railways, and canals, and inland 
 seas, — every point of which it would be necessary to guard 
 by a customs-officer and a soldier. Wlio believes, thus divi- 
 ded, the two sections could ever be at peace — that border 
 strifes, and savage, relentless retaliations could possibly l.)e 
 avoided.? No, my friends, separation is impossil^le — the or- 
 ganic life of a nation eniliodying the people's sovereignty can- 
 not thus be destroyed or dismembered. 
 
 But, this is merel}^ the negative side of the question. We 
 answer, positively, to the (j^uestion w^hether this rebellion can 
 be suppressed, that it can be and it will be. Leaving theory 
 altogether aside, what is the fact ? It is i)recisely this that, 
 up to the present time, we have subdued the rebellion at ev- 
 ery point save one against which we have, in full earnest, 
 directed our forces. We have subjugated, not communities 
 merely, but entire States. The South to-day is sealed her- 
 metically against the world. Practically the Federal authori- 
 ty is already restored in every one but five of the revolted 
 States, and these lie at our mercy. We may safely, therefore, 
 affirm that the Union caji be re-established. Not that Union 
 in which, for long and weary years, debauchery and crime 
 — oppression and injustice — sat in gown and powdered wig 
 in all places of authority — not that Union in which mousing 
 })oliticians liave mocked the people, crucif^'ing with demo- 
 niac rupture the saving princijiles of Virtue, Litelligenceand 
 Truth, and the prolligate Ambition of pomjious ^lediocrity 
 has pushed its way o\'er the wise and good into eminence — 
 not that Union in wliieli, by inexplicable perversions of its 
 
 6- 
 
38 
 
 intent and object, tlic Government has been employed, not 
 for the good of all, or even of the majority, but for the bene- 
 fit of the Few — not ilils Union, but the Union as tlie Fathers 
 formed it and meant it ever should be — the great support of 
 Liberty in the earth — a nation full of all the precious influ- 
 ences of justice, enlightenment and religion — gathering to 
 itself from all the centuries the good, the truth which neither 
 martyrdoms nor scourgings could destroy — tin's Union will he, 
 must be re-established. And this is the lesson of this hour, 
 thai: in the work of its final restoration, tre are to stand, each 
 man firmly in his lot, enduring sacrifice, privation, death itself, 
 if need be, for the nation's sake. 
 
 The nation is to be saved — our duty is to aid in its salva- 
 tion. Not upon a few, not upon a class, Ijut upon all, equal- 
 ly and alike, the work depends. And to-night the cry is, Fill 
 up the ranks, fill up the ranks of our armies everywhere. 
 From far battle-fields, the blood of dear ones fallen calls to 
 us to bear forward, on our shoulders, the cause in whose de- 
 fence they died. From hospital and camp, where our heroes 
 lie maimed and beleaguered, the appeal is heard : " Come to 
 our help, oh. Brothers, that Liberty may not be slain in the 
 house of her friends." That appeal is to yoit and we, and it 
 is the cry not of a brother only, but of the nation, in deepest 
 agony. Let us see to it that we heed it and obey its sum- 
 mons. If we cannot go to the field ourselves, let us find sub- 
 stitues who can. Let the rich pour out their wealth — the 
 poor give their mite — all give or do something for the coun- 
 try's sake. The nation must and shall he saved. 
 
 Some hearts there are that shrink and falter under adverse 
 fortune. Why they should consider this an hour of gloom, 
 we cannot see. It is rather, as it seems to us, the dusky twi - 
 light through which the* full-orbed Day is to rise and shine. 
 There are grounds of hope to-day we never had before. We 
 fully comprehend, at last, the magnitude of the Revolt with 
 which we have to do. We realize fully the necessity of meas- 
 ures imperiously stern and unsparing — that it is not by soft 
 phrases and gloved hands Ave are to subdue the vaulting 
 spirit of turbulence and insurrection. Hitherto we have 
 failed altogether to recognize the deep intensity of hate and 
 
 ©■ 
 
o 
 
 89 
 
 malignity witli wliicli avc had to deal ; liave fed the monster 
 of rebellion with syllabul), rather than with leaden physic. 
 Now, seeing that pelting this infernal ci'ime with grass has 
 been of no avail, "we mean to sec what virtue there is in 
 stones. Now we go in to conquer i^eace, order, obedience on 
 ever}' foot of our soil. Henceforth, the traitor, wherever 
 found, must j:>ay the penalty of his treason. No longer must 
 federal bayonets protect the comfort and estate of the disloy- 
 al. The march of our armies in the h<?reafter will be to the 
 music of freedom, and behind them as they go, twenty mil- 
 lions of resolute and determined souls will throb with death- 
 less purpose. There is new ground for hope, we say, in this 
 resurrection of the nation from the indolence and partial 
 comprehension of our duty, which has hitherto characterized 
 our movements. Employing for the suppression of rebellion 
 all the elements of strength God and nature have placed with- 
 in onr reach — with augmented vigor and a uniformly unspar- 
 ing policy, success must in the very nature of the case attend 
 our eflbrts, since, precisely in the proportion we increase our 
 strength, the power of the insurgents must gradually dimin- 
 ish, — the zenith of their ability being already reached, and 
 henceforth, without accruing resources, liable with each pass- 
 ing day, to be more and more exhausted. 
 
 Let no one, therefore, be discouraged. The sun is shining- 
 still upon the mountain-tops. We read in sacred story that 
 in the exodus of Israel's opj)ressed and weary tribes from the 
 land of Egypt, they one day came, with heat and travel o'er- 
 labored, to the Red Sea shore, and there, lay down to rest. 
 Thus far upon their way they had come, all undisturbed and 
 triumphant. But as by the river's rim the wearied bands 
 lay at ease, suddenly, a cloud of waving spears and banners 
 appeared along the distant sky. In pomp and martial pride, 
 with columns dun and swarthy, with chariots and liorsemen 
 all unnumbered, Pharoah pressed down upon the fugitive 
 and affrighted tribes. What wonder that, as the truth dawn- 
 ed on their thought, despair fdled every heart, that 
 " Tlio liiint ami weary train. 
 Red from the scourge and recent f'mni the chain, " 
 with straining eves looked cvcrvwherc for some outlet ot es- 
 
40 
 
 cape ! l^'rom bondage and death, tliey had come witli jo- 
 cund and exultant hearts, dreaming all the way of liberty ; 
 now, suddenly, the oj^pressor's arm is again stretched out 
 against them, and all seems lost. But, even then, God's eye 
 was on them, and His Arm deliverance brought : 
 
 " The man of God 
 O'er the wide waters lifts his mighty rod, 
 And onward treads The circling waves retreat, 
 III hoarse, deep murmurs from his holy feet ; 
 With limbs that falter, and with hearts that leap 
 Down pass the host — a slippery way and steep — 
 Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread. 
 The beetling waters storming 'bove their head — 
 While far behind retires the smiling day, 
 And fades on Edom's lulls its latest ray." 
 
 So in the darkest hour, deliverance came. For 
 
 •• From Edom's coral strand 
 Again the prophet stretched his dreadful M^and, 
 With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep, 
 And all is tumult — a dark and turbid deep — 
 Yet o'er those seething waves what murmurs passed, — 
 A mortal wailing swelled the mighty blast — 
 And strange and sad the whispering breezes bore 
 The firoans of Egypt to Arabia's shore." 
 
 Ourselves, my friends, are pictured in this scene of Heber. 
 As did Israel's bands of old, so we, panting with the heat 
 and burden of desperate battle, lie now by the brink of ovr 
 Red Sea of Tribniation, seeking rest. Flushed and strong, 
 tlie foe is pressiTig down upon us. We remember from what 
 evils wo luu'o in the; past escaped — to Avhat hand of Prom- 
 ise, beari)ig the world's hope blazoned upon our banners, 
 we arc journeying ; and f(\ar assails our hearts, overshadow- 
 ing and oppressing us. But still, God is over all, — still He 
 holds wide open the crystal portal of deliverance. In His 
 own good time, He will part the waves that we may walk 
 through them with trinmphant feet, to the green land beyond, 
 from whose lofty heights, it may be, we shall see our foe cn- 
 gulphed and swept away in the blood-red waters wherein 
 they hfi]>ed to extinguish, forever and forever, the lights of 
 
 ■1 
 
1 7 
 
 Virtue Of civilization and of freedom, borne up of us in our 
 armies van ! i ui 
 
 So to-night, with liope still shining upon our banners- 
 appreciating as we should the value of the stake for which it 
 ^s our privilege and prerogative to contend-tliankfu] that we 
 are permitted in a time so full of grandest impulses to act our 
 part tor Freedom and Humanity-thankful that it has been 
 ours to give a Iriend and brother to the nations cause, we set 
 up here a white stone to the memory of our dead, and go 
 forth unto the work that awaits us. We know there are 
 seams and rents in the quivering life of the nation, but we 
 see as well that God is sowing in them, as in furrows, new 
 elements of strength and vigor. We know there are manv 
 dead lying, unshrouded and uncoffined, on ghastlv battle- 
 tields, but we do not forget that in other years our children's 
 children, living in the perfect freedom these spent lives re- 
 deemed, will gather daises from the ashes of these lost ones 
 -that no human life is ever vainly spent in a holy cause: 
 and that contents our souls. We feel, especially, "here to- 
 night, that one is missing who shall never come again to his 
 old familiar place ; wliose genial smile shall never Hash a-ain 
 Its sunshine over any liere ; whose kindly courtliness of diar- 
 acter and mien shall never more, here on e-arth, win homao-e 
 or applause. We know there is a home where a widow^l 
 one bows through weary hours before a picture on the wall 
 whose eyes still speak with kindliest look; that there are 
 bves in whose bending boughs the singing-birds of Joy and 
 Teace shall sing no more forever ; we know all tliis. and yet 
 if we clioose to lift our eyes heavenward, we shall see the 
 "orient gates" still wide ajar,_the bow still lifting its star- 
 ry arch above them. There are graves, indeed, but there 
 could be no resurrection without them: there are losses, too 
 but there are gains as well. It is written that a cannon ball 
 m the Crimea tore its destructive way tlirough the ranks of 
 the soldiers, and covered the ])lain witli the dead and dyino-- 
 but It buried itself at last in the hillside, and opened thcro-1 
 clear spring of water, to slaicc the tliirst of tlie perishino- 
 battalions, ^o every shattering blow of this .sid war, only 
 causes some new spring of joy, .somowliere, fo break forth"; 
 
42 
 
 from every wound, it may be, some healing balm will flow. 
 Let lis mouru not, therefore, over dear ones fallen. Along ' 
 the royal road of Duty, tJiey have marched to glory, while we 
 are still loitering here, ou dusty ways. Let us be up and 
 doing. God and our country call. Over the sapphire walls, 
 the shining Inunortals lean, beckoning us to duty — bidding 
 us through blood and sacrifice, to come up thitherward. Let 
 us, men and brethren, be on the march, to join the company, 
 — the martyrs and heroes of whatever age, who through great 
 tribulations have won the crown. In the field, our sons and 
 brothers are standing bravch' and with unfaltering faith, for 
 Liberty and Law. Challenged of disease, nnd pain, and 
 death, tliey stand yet inflexible and stern. Tlic surges of 
 oppression and revolt beat against them, but still like 
 massive sea-walls, immo^•able they stand. iJe it ours, to fill 
 ov.r lot as courageously and faithfullj^ as they. Bo. it ours to 
 keep l)right and clear upon every altar the fires of Liberty 
 and Trutli. So, when these our heroes come flocking home- 
 ward with their scars upon them — with their torn and blood- 
 stained standards fluttering above them — when Peace at last 
 shall be proclaimed from every throblnng belfry in all the 
 land, and the ravelled nation's life shall be gathered up again, 
 we, one and all, may fitly join in the nation's jubilee, coming 
 with song and timbrel to celebrate ov.r triumph. So, the 
 st(jne being rolled away, indeed, from every grave this war 
 has made, the Angel of God, descending, may rest upon it, 
 while from the heights their valor won, all the ascended ones 
 may look down upon the work in whose achievement they 
 earned the recompense of a nation's love and a world's ap- 
 plause. 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
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 Oi-ders sent to tlic undersigned Committee, will be prompt- 
 ly iilled, and the copies ordered sent by mail, postage paid. 
 
 .l.\MES 1). L'LEAVEIJ, ] 
 
 BAILEY ]?. DOUGLAS, V (\nninHhr. 
 
 JOnX C. AIANDEVILLE, ) 
 
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 Np.WAriK Daily MRr.ci'HV Stkam Towek PiiK.f.-~— 2Sf! I'.uoah ^Tl:l•.^•r. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 013 703 846 8 
 
 ^ 
 
 TERMS: 
 
 Twenty-Ftyk Cents for single copies. 
 
 For Clubs of ten, or more, sent to one address, Twext^' 
 Cents per copy. 
 
 Orders sent to the undersigned Committee, Avill be prompt- 
 ly iillcd, and the copies ordered sent by inuil, postnge paid. 
 
 .1 A:\IE.S 1). CLEAVE! !, 
 liAILEY V,. POrdLAS. 
 JOHN C. :iLi>rDEVILLt:, 
 
 (omrnillt 
 
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 Newark Daily MKitntTRT Steam Tower Press— 2SS Bkoau stkkkt.