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JOHN GRAY 
 
 Mount V e r n o n 
 
 Last Soldier of the Revolution 
 
 Born near Mount \'ernon, \ a., Januarv 6, 1764; 
 Died at Hiranishurg, Ohio, Marcli 29, 1S68. 
 
 Aged 104 Years. 
 
 "Chap. LXV'III. — An act for tin; Relief of John Gray, a Revolutionary Soldier. 
 
 '■'■Be it enacted by the Senate ami House of Representati'vei of the United States of America, in 
 " Congress assembled. That the Secretary of the Interior be, and he is hereby, directed to place 
 " the name of John Gray, of Noble County, Oiiio, upon the Pension Roll, and that there be 
 " paid to said John Gray, out of any money in tiie Treasury, not otherwise appropriated, the sum 
 "of $500 per annum during his natural life, payable semi-annually, commencing on tlie 1st day 
 " of July, 1866." 
 
 [See Statutes at Larj^e, XXXIX Congress, Sess. II, Chaji. 5S, p. 44. j 
 
 t WASHINCiTON : 
 
 Gibson Brothers, Printers. 
 1868. 
 
DEDICATION, 
 
 t 'Z66 
 
 
 To the Old Dominion, the birth-place of' John Gray, and to Ohio, where 
 
 his sacred ashes rest, and to the American people, whom he loved, 
 
 and for whom he fought, this memorial of the last Soldier 
 
 of the Revolution is respectfully dedicated h\ 
 
 JAMES M. DALZELL, the Author, 
 
 an! 
 
 WM. VVOOUBURN, uk Ohu), tlie Author'. {;,fnerous I'liend. 
 
HISTORY OJ^' -lOllN (iKAY, 
 
 OK MUl'NT VKHNON, VA., 
 
 THE LAST SOLDIER OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 State of OiiiO;, Executive Department, 
 
 Columbus, Fehruari/ 2, J 807. 
 Dear Sir: Yours of 29th ultimo is received, and the letter to 
 the State Journal has been delivered. My duties are inconsistent 
 with my acting as the trustee ot" a fund for the benefit of any 
 j)rivate citizen, and I must beg you to find some business man or 
 lirm of known character, in the vicinity of the residence of the 
 veteran John Gray, of the Revolution, to do that work. It would 
 involve a good deal of correspondence which could only be intelli- 
 gently done by those who are near enough to be personally cogni- 
 zant of the wants and necessities of the old patriot. 
 
 Earnestly sympathizing with the spirit which induces your 
 action, 
 
 I am, very I'espectfully, yours^, &c., 
 
 J. D. COX, 
 
 Governor of Ohio. 
 
 J. 'M. Dalzell, Esq. 
 
 [We here acknowledge ourselves inueli intlebtcd to Iloiiorahle Judges 
 Welker and Spalding, and Capt. ]5aug]i, of Ohio, the Lilirarians of Congress, 
 Heads of Departments, and many otlier high officials at Washinglon, wlio 
 have aided us in the laborious task of compiling from the records of Congress 
 and the Departments the authentic statements of this book.] 
 
 For more than three-i[uartei's of a century alter the close of the 
 war of the Revolution, John Cxray lived a life of quiet and retiracy 
 upon or near the banks of the beautiful Ohio. He left his native 
 Virginia, the banks of the Potomac, the home of his childhood, 
 the State for which he had done battle service in no less a cause 
 than the independence of that State. Tie left her because she 
 denied and refused the ri<?ht ol" suflVao-e to those of her sons who 
 
had not "caught Dame Fortunes golden smile," and made his 
 home where — 
 
 •' An honest man, llio' e'er so poor, 
 Is king of men lor a' tluit." 
 
 He wended his way over mountains and rivers, through the then 
 almost unexplored wilderness of what is now West Virginia, and 
 coming out on the borders of Western civilization, at Morgantown, 
 Va., he constructed a rude craft, on which he descended the 
 Monongahela to its junction with the Alleghany, and thence down 
 the Ohio to the Flats of Grave Creek. Here he made his first 
 settlement, and entered with ardor upon the duties of frontier life, 
 having for his companions in toil, privation, hardship, and frontier 
 Nvarfare, such men as the Poes, Wetzel, Hughs, Wheeler, Boone, 
 Kenton, and others, who have made their names conspicuous in 
 the annals of the West. Time rolled on, and the beautiful region 
 "north-west of the Kiver Ohio" was, in the year 1802, erected 
 into a State, and John Gray, after changing his residence once or 
 twice, settled down on the waters of Duck Creek, a tributary of 
 the Muskingum, within the present limits of Noble (then Wash- 
 ington) county, in the new, free, and prosperous State of Ohio. 
 
 Here, for nearly threescore years and ten_, he lived and stud- 
 ied. He lived to see the almost unbroken wilderness " blossom as 
 the rose," and Ohio proudly take her position, the third State in the 
 American Union. He lived to see men born upon the soil grow 
 up and take the highest positions, military, civil, and ecclesiastic, 
 in the land, men of whom any State or nation might well be 
 proud. He lived to witness the most wonderful achievements of 
 science of any age or any nation in his own countr3\ He saw the 
 majestic steamboat take the })lace of the frail canoe upon her lakes 
 and rivers. He saw the giant locomotive drag tlnj ponderous 
 train over the highest peaks of the Alleghanies, through tunnels 
 under mountains, over rivers and plains, through forests and 
 ])rairies, and to the very summit of the Kocky Mountains. He 
 lived to see the inventions of Franklin and Morse distance time 
 in the transmission of intelligence from London to New York, and 
 crossing the continent to San Francisco, return the" answer to 
 New York just as old Father Time reached the shores of America. 
 
 During all this time John Gray had neither sought nor ob- 
 tained from the Government any recognition of his services in the 
 war of the Revolution. Never rich, indeed ])()iir in purse, he was 
 
yet too proud to ;isk ;i riclily-uiciilcd ammity, .'uid it was not (ill 
 the frosts of a liutidretl winters had whitened his h)cks, and iv^e, 
 decrepitude, and want invaded liis citadel, that lie ^ave a reluc- 
 tant consent for his friends to apply for a pension. 
 
 On the iirst day of the second session of the Tliirty-ninth Con- 
 ijjress, December o, 18G0, lion. -John A. Bingham, a member of 
 the House of Representatives from the 10th district, tiian whom 
 Oiiio has not a brighter star in her galaxy of living statesmen, 
 arose in his })lace and introduced House bill No. 835, for tlie 
 relief of John Gray, a soldier of the Tlev(dution, which was read a 
 first and second time, and referred to the Committee on Invalid 
 Pensions. (See page (>, Congressional Globe, second session, 3yth 
 Congress.) 
 
 On Thursday, December \',], 1800, ten days after the introduc- 
 tion of the bill, Mr. Mclndoe, from the Committee on Revolution- 
 ary Pensions, reported back, with a recommendation that it 
 do not pass, House bill No. 835, for the relief of John Gray, and 
 the bill was laid on the table. (See Congressional Globe, 2d 
 session, 39th Congress, page 3.) 
 
 Nothing daunted, the patriotic and indefatigable Bingham, after 
 introducing the most incontestable proofs of identity of wdiich the 
 case would admit after the lapse of so many years, in which tlie 
 old patriot had "outlived the generation born with him," on 
 Friday, January 25, 1807, succeeded in getting a bill re[)orted 
 (No. 10-44) by Mr. Price, i'rom the Committee on Revolutionary 
 Pensions, " for the relief of John Gray, wdiich was read a first 
 and second time. It directed the Secretary of the Interior to place 
 the name of John Gray on the pension roll at the rate of |200 per 
 annum, payable semi-annually." "Mr. Delano, of Ohio, in- 
 quired whether the bill had the approbation of any Committee." 
 He was answered by Mr. Price " that it had the approbation of the 
 Committee on Revolutionaiy Pensions." "This applicant," said 
 Mr. Price, "is one hundred and three years old, and I have another 
 similar case to report, in which the applicant is one hundred and 
 seven years old, (referring to the case of F. D. Bakeman, of New 
 York, since deceased,) and botli these men are sup[)orted by public 
 charity."' 
 
 ]Mr. Spalding, of Ohio, moved lo amend the bill by striking out 
 " two hundred dollars " and inserting in lieu thereof five hundred 
 dollars, and the amendment was agreed to. The bill was then 
 
6 
 
 ordered to be engrossed, and it was accordingly read a tliird time 
 and ])assed. 
 
 " Mr. Bingliaiii tlien moved to reconsider the vote by which the 
 bill passed, and also moved to lay the motion to reconsider on the 
 table. The latter motion was agreed to." (See Congressional 
 (;!lo1)e, 2d session, 39th Congress, page 754.) 
 
 On the same day, January 25, 1867, a message was received in 
 the Senate from the House of Representatives by its Chief Clerk, 
 Mr. Lloyd, announcing among other things tliat the House had 
 passed bill No. 1044, for the relief of John Gray, a Revolutionary 
 soldier, which, with others, was twice read by its title and referred 
 to the Committee on Pensions. (See Congressional Globe, 2d 
 session, 3'Jth Congress, page 730.) 
 
 On Wednesday, January 30, 18G7, in the Senate, Mr. Lane, from 
 the Committee on Pensions, reported without amendment House 
 bill No, 1044, for the relief of John Gray, a soldier of the Rev- 
 olution. (See Congressional Globe, 2d session, 39th Congress, 
 page 853.) 
 
 On February 14, 1867, " in the Senate, on motion of Mr. Lane, 
 the Senate, as in Committee of the Whole, proceeded to consider 
 House bill. No. 1044, for the relief of John Gray. The bill di- 
 rects the Commissioners of Pensions to place the name of John 
 Gray, of Noble county, Ohio, upon the pension roll, and that 
 there be paid him the sum of five hundred dollars, payable semi- 
 annually during his natural life, commencing on July 1, 1866. 
 
 Mr. Lane said "■ the bill, as it passed the House, was wrongfully 
 drawn. I move to amend it by striking out the words 'Com- 
 missioner of Pensions,' and insert Secretary of the Interior, so as 
 to make it conform to our legislation." The amendment was agreed 
 to. (See Congressional Globe, 2d session, 39th Congress, page 
 1309, et. seq.) 
 
 The bill was reported to the Senate as amended ; the amend- 
 ment concurred in, and ordered to be engrossed and read a third 
 time. The bill was then read a third time and passed. 
 
 On the 15th of February, 1867, the bill as amended and passed 
 in the Senate was sent to the House, where, on the motion of Mr. 
 Price, the amendment of the Senate was concurred in. (See 
 Congressional Globe, 2d session :>9th Congress, pages 1262 and 
 1275. 
 
A iiiutioii to iccoiisidt'i' tli<; voti: (■(mkmu riii;^ in Uio Senate aiiioiid- 
 iiiciit was laiil on the table, and a nicssago sent to tlie Senate, 
 announcing- tliat tlie House liad passed bill No. 1044, for tlie 
 relief of Jobn Grvay, a Revoltitionary soldiei-. 
 
 ]n tbe House of llepreseiifatives, on tlie Hltli of February, 18P)7, 
 Mr. Tro\vbri(^p;e, from tbe Committee on lairolled JJills, reported 
 tbat tbe committee bad i'ound, U})on examination, bill No. 
 1044, for tbe relief of Jobn dray, a llevolutionary soldier, truly 
 enrolled by its proper title, wbercupon tbe Speaker signed tbe 
 same. (See Congressional Globe, 2d session, 30tb Congress, 
 l)ag;e 1285.) 
 
 On tbe same diiy, a message was received in the Senate, an- 
 nouncing tbat tbe Speaker of tbe House of Re})resentatives bad 
 signed tbe bill as engrossed, and tbereupon it was signed by tbe 
 President ;*ro tern, of tbe Senate. Tbus Jobn Gray was placed on 
 tbe pension roll at tbe rate of five hundred dollars per annum. 
 
 Two days after, February 18, 1867, Samuel Downing, of New 
 York, was placed on the Revolutionary pension roll. From tbe 
 report of the Commissioner of Pensions for tbe year 1867, it 
 appears tbat the names of John Gray and Samuel Downing only 
 remained upon the roll ; the rest were dead. Of tbat uoble band 
 of patriots, they alone survived. Late in the fall of 1867, Samuel 
 Downing died at Edinburgh, Saratoga county, New York. John 
 Gray still lived, unquestionably the last soldier of tbe Revolution, 
 till tbe 29tb of March, 1868, when b(> died. The soldiers of the 
 Revolution are extinct. 
 
 " This was the noblest Roman of them all ; 
 The last of all the Romans — fare thee well." 
 
 It is time to prove the leading statement of this history, namely 
 tbat Jobn Gray was tbe last soldier of tbe Revolution. That he 
 icas a Revolutionary soldier is proved elsewhere in this book ; but 
 here we are to show that be Avas the last Revolutionary soldier. 
 
 I wrote to the Commissioner of Pensions at "Washington, D. C, 
 to settle this. He replied by an endorsement on my letter, stating 
 tbat " Jobn Gray, of Ohio, and Samuel Downing were the only 
 two soldiers remaining on the ))eusion rolls of tln^ Revolution, 
 and tbat they were both alive in September last." Then I saw 
 there were only two left. Tbe (juestion came up, is Samuel Down- 
 ing dead ? If he is, then John Gray is the last soldier of the 
 
8 
 
 Rovuliitioii, Ir\voiuI a iloiil»t. So 1 wroU', ami ri'i-eivoJ the lollow- 
 iii;4 lottor. wliirh settles the ([uostiou torover : 
 
 Fosi' Office, JSauatocja Sruixos, 
 April 10, ISOS. 
 Sir : In unswor to your letter of the \2t\\ instant, I have to say 
 that Samnd I)otnii)i(j ilietl last fall at his home in Ivlinhnri^h, 
 this county. Yours, respect full v, 
 
 M. A. riKE, r. M. 
 
 [XoTE. — ll will be riMiu'iiiluTOil tli;it Jo/ni (7riU/ dial a/Ui-wdnh, Miurh 20, 18GS, ANn 
 
 WAS TlIERKKOliK TllK LAST SlUVIVOU OK Till: UkVOH' llOX . Atul tllUS tllO qllOStioU is SOttU'll 
 
 fororer.] 
 
 A liriiiht day in June, ISOT, I visited Joiix Gray, of iMount 
 Vf.uxox, Va., for the last time. I felt a deep interest in the old 
 hero, because 1 knew him loni;- and well, hut chietly heeanse 1 
 knew he was the last living man who couhl say oi' a truth — 
 
 '• 1 HAVE SHAKEN HANDS WFl'lI WaSHINC.TOX ANU FOUC.HT UNDER 
 Hl.M. I WAS 150RN AT MoUNT VfRNOX AND WAS HIS WARM PERSONAL 
 f RIEND."' 
 
 I knew no nuirtal man except John (J ray could say these words. 
 I soui:;ht for his history. He had a history worth knowing-. To 
 till out the volume of our Colonial and Revolutionary history only 
 one name more was left — it was the name of John Gray, of ^[ount 
 Vernon. But to get his history was no easy task. He had been 
 a common man. His deeds were not in print. Only iVom his 
 lips could 1 gather up the ravelled thread of his life. To him, 
 therefore, I went, and to his neighbors i and from them gleaned 
 the fragmentary points presenttHl in this volume. If the reader 
 will read as patiently as I have written, he will lay down this 
 book satisfied that John Gray was the last survivor of Washing- 
 ton's army. If the reader finds any discrepancies or contradic- 
 tions, let him remember that the field from which I glean is one 
 a hundred years old, grown over thickly with the weeds of for- 
 getfulness, and covered, for the most part, with the fog of oblivion. 
 John Gray did not figure in public life. He was a plain man, 
 like Lincoln. From such a life it is hard to gather strange inci- 
 dents. I give the facts as I got them from time to time, from an 
 old man, nearly in his grave. He had no writings. He had no 
 records. And I make no comments, as is the fashion of prosy 
 historians. 1 enter a new domain of history, and do not repeat 
 the familiar storv of the Kevidntiiui. Von know all that histm-y. 
 
\'nii ciiii sec .Tohii (»i;i\'s liiiiiiMc cuii iicci ioii willi i;rc!it evt-iits, 
 witlioiit piittiiiii; oil my ;^da.s.s('s. So I iiicrt'ly <lro|) tlic fUcts. ^'oii 
 may clahoriitc. I deal witli [xtints. You nniy detail. I ])roiess 
 to tell the world a new and woiiderf'nl story of" a wond(>rt'nl old 
 man. This is all 1 claim. 1 ])oirit to the evidence in the acts of" 
 (.'on^ress, and in the h-tter oi' the (governor of ()hio. A vast 
 crowd of" witnesses attest the trutli of thi.s histoi'y. '^IMie ])roof" is 
 l)lain. It is <ji;iven in t'rai^nients. You can ])ick them out. It 
 will interest you as story never interested you before. Such is the 
 ]ilan of" tliis histoi-y of th(? last man of the Iicvolution — a jtlain 
 tale of tiiith. If I take my own way of tellin^i; the old man's story, 
 you cannot hlame me after you have read it. 
 
 " Washinj^ton is in the clear upper sky," and John Gray, liis 
 last soldier, has joined him in the land of spirits. Sixty-oi<:jlit 
 years ago \Vashin;^ton died. .I(din (Jray died ^Tarch 2'.), 1808. 
 Wasliinf^ton was the first soldier of the lievolution. .John Gray 
 was the last soldier of the Ticvolution. The whoh; army had died 
 hel'ore John Gray died. Alone John (Iray remained as a venera- 
 ble monument of tliat noble *!;eneration. Washington was a Vir- 
 ginian. John Gray was a Virginian, too. Washington was a 
 patriot and a Christian ; so was John Gray. Washington f"()Uglit 
 for our liberty and inde[)endencc; so did Jolin Gray, One after 
 another the Revolutionary soldiers dropped off, until John Gray 
 alone survived. Likethe sentinel of Pomj)eii, John Gray remained 
 sublimely resolute at his post of duty until (iod had removed all 
 his companions in arms by death, and then he folded his hands 
 (juietly ovei' his ])atiiotic heart and fell asleep in Jesus, in his 
 lOoth year. Washington's hon)e was Mount Vernon. John 
 Gray's birth-place was Mount Vernon. It would seem as if this 
 coincidence worked a charm to preserve John Gray alive. It 
 would seem as if to be born at Mount Vernon were to inherit 
 immortality, as of one bathed in the fabled stream whose waters 
 were said to confer immortality. It seemed as if born at Mount 
 Vernon he could not die. 
 
 And here we submit material for a grander history of John 
 Gray ; for this history is an unhewn BovMcr of Trutli. 
 
 Whoever may liereafter visit Mount Vernon, let iiini rcincmber 
 that \Vasliington"s last soldier was born upon its am})le acres. 
 Let him remember, too, that John (iray wasa dear ])ersonal friend 
 of Washington. That hand crumblintr to dust in that white 
 
10 
 
 cotHti tlieio luis Kt'toii piws.seil tin' li;uul of John (Jiay. Wherever 
 hereiil'ter you go about the tlear shades oi" Mouut \'ernou, remem- 
 ber that Johu Gray's sturdy arm felled trees here, and his skilful 
 hands helped to adorn ]\Iount Vernon for his Chieftain's eye. 
 Washington little thought, when last he pressed the hand of his 
 soldier John Gray, that John Gray was to outlive him by nearly 
 three generations, and speak his fame to another eentury. Wash- 
 ington was only thirty years older than John Gray. His ehanees 
 to live as long as John Gray seemed fair and flattering. But 
 John CJray outlived his eliief well nigh three-quarters of a een- 
 tury. It is of this wondert'ul old man this book speaks. His 
 fame should keep company with tiie venerable fame of Washing- 
 ton forever. Washington the tirst soldier — John Gray the last 
 soldier. Worthy every way is John Ciray of a place beside the 
 name of Washington, lor his life was pure and good. The volume 
 of tlie history of the llevolution remained open till John Gray 
 died. The volume now closes. This hook tinishes the history of 
 the Revolution. Nothing more remains, but that we forever 
 revere the memory and imitate the virtues of such men as Wash- 
 ington and John Gray. 
 
 3Ir. Gray narrated to me the following anecdote of General 
 Washington, in June last. 1 believe it has never before been 
 published, and as it gives a new view oi' (ieneral Washington's 
 characteristic kindness, it is worth preserving. 
 
 "At this time (after Mr. Gray had returned from the Continental 
 Array) he lived near Mount Vernon. There was then a saw-mill, 
 running by water-power, of course, on a stream called Dog Run. 
 The General's negroes came there with Avhip-saws in their hands 
 one bright May morning, and with them also came John Gray, 
 with a wliip-saw, too. Sawing was a slow business then. What 
 could not, however, be sawed with the large saw, j\Ir. Gray and 
 the slaves easily sawed with the whip-saws. As he was busily 
 sawing one day, and musing over his Revolutionary experience, 
 who should ride up but General Washington himself. With 
 characteristic kindness the great man calletl to doi\n (Jray, \'ov he 
 knew him well. .lohn dropped his saw, and in a twinkling was 
 shaking hands with the General. The (general in([uired kindly 
 t'or his health, and telling him not to work too hard, bade him 
 iiood bve and rodeawav. " If did me <rood tt) hear the old vetcriiii 
 tell it. I might fill a volume with similar anecdotes, for Mi', (iray 
 never tired of speaking of General Washington. 
 
11 
 
 EULOGY OX .lOlIN (IKAY. 
 
 " Eul(),ii;i('.s turn into elegies." Indeed, the eul<)«;y and v]v<^y 
 come })roi)eily at one and the same time. The final jud<^menl 
 cannot be pronounced, either in this world or the next, until the 
 man is dead. "Well done, good and faithful sei'vant ' ' luis already 
 welcomed John (xi-ay to Heaven. The welcome of the skies may 
 well lind an echo here. A life of virtue, in its fullest sense, was 
 the life of tliis grand old man. Listen. John Gray was a citizen 
 of Ohio for threescore years and ten, and you cannot find in that 
 State one man, woman, or child wlio can recall one evil word lie 
 ever said, or one had act he ever did. Nay, more. Not one man, 
 woman, or child in Ohio has ever so much as said that such a 
 rumor ever was heard. This would he great praise. ]jut we can 
 go further. Until stricken hy the infirmities of age he lahoi-ed 
 hard with his hands, and led a life of noble usefulness, prayer, 
 and virtue. Because he was inoffensive^ it does not follow that 
 he lacked mental capacity. By no means. But he sought to do 
 good and be good, and he accomplished it. What an example to 
 hold out to the rising generation. This man was a patriot — he 
 fought for your liberty. This man was a Christian during a long, 
 long life. He never injured his neighbors in thought, word, or 
 deed. Was he not worthy to be Washington's last soldier? He 
 was not as great, but he was as good as Washington. And are 
 there not purj)oses of God ])lainly seen in his life? Did God jjro- 
 long John Gray's life until John Gray alone remained of all the 
 Ilevolutionists, and this without a purpose? Verily, no. God 
 had a jjurpose in it. Might it not he that by his pure life he 
 might forever stand as an example to coming generations? 
 
 And has not Labor her heroes? There are heroes who marshal 
 armies and rule nations. Are there not heroes, too, in humble 
 life? To be good as John Gray was, and do his whole duty to his 
 God and his fellow-man, is such heroism as stands high above 
 that of Napoleon. Therefore, I honor John Gray. Therefore, I 
 gather up what 1 can of his life and write it here, that coming 
 generations may see and admire the pure and unpretending vii- 
 tues of Washington's last soldier. 
 
 In June last, wlien I visited him at his home, he was sitting by 
 the fireside. The day was hot, but the old man had quite a fire 
 burning, and he sat u[) close to it^ for, as I have elsewhere said, 
 
 "His blood had lost Uie fervor 
 of a hundred vears asro." 
 
12 
 
 I (-atno in. The old luiiii IdoIvluI up, and liai<lly kjiow me at 
 first. i\Iy IViend, Matthew McClary, Esq., called to tlie old man, 
 and told him who I was. Instantly he recognized me, and reached 
 out that hand whieli had so often grasped the hand of Washing- 
 ton. I seized his hand and kissed it^ and felt that I was blessed 
 to have the privilege. The old man's hearing was quite dull, and 
 his eyesight very dim. But he could both see and hear a little. 
 He told me lie was five i'eet eight inches high, though as he sat 
 doubled up in an old man's way, he appeared much shorter. lie 
 was grown heavy, but by no means corpulent. He laughed as 1 
 remarked that he was not much fatter tlum he was the last time I 
 had met him. "0, no," said he, laughingly, " we old men don't 
 fatten miu;]i on hog and hominy, and the poor tobacco we get 
 now-a-days." He had a large spittoon by his side, a wooden box 
 that would hold half a bushel — contents thereof better imagined 
 than described. But we pass it by with a forgiving smile. It 
 was his only fault. He had chewed tobacco for about a hundred 
 years, and could not leave it off. 
 
 THE APtMY IN HEAVEN. 
 
 The Army in Heaven to-night, 
 With garments twice covered witli Ijlood, 
 Once washed by the dear Crucitied, 
 Once rolled in the battle's red flood ; 
 The Army in Heaven to-night 
 Arc calling to us o'er the wave, 
 And bidding ns stand for the Right 
 Till v.-e triumph like they o'er the grave. 
 
 Over our flag they are keeping 
 As fiiithful a guard as of yore ; 
 No sentinel spirit is sleeping 
 That pickets the line of the shore ; 
 The voices of music are ringing, 
 And anthems are gushing abroad — 
 The Army in Heaven are singing 
 The praise of America's God. 
 
 The River of Death intervenes 
 Rctween us and angels to-night; 
 We dwell in humanity's scenes, 
 They soar up in heaven's pure light : 
 Tlie sentinels jiaciiig each side 
 Of that dark and fathomless stream. 
 Conversing as sweet o'er the tide 
 As Heaven and earth in a dream. 
 
 J. .M. I)ai,/.ki,i. 
 
13 
 
 Mr. Gray's religious principles were linn ami inunovable. Ihit 
 he was not one to accept a dogma or creed without a good iciison 
 therefor. In his earlier years he had some douhts as to the trntli 
 and inspiration of the Bible. But upon examination his reason was 
 fully satisfied of its blessed truth, and his heart iully converted to 
 its holy teachings. He told me that in his boyhood he read the 
 ([nibbles of the infidel Paine, whom he had often seen. " You 
 know," said he to me, " St. Luke asserts that Jesus ascended to 
 heaven from Bethany, and !St. Slatthew says that it was from Gali- 
 lee, and there are also some other things hard to reconcile. But of 
 the truth of the l^ible I now have no doubt. Passages there are 
 which 1 cannot explain or understand, but there is enough for me 
 that I can understand. 1 know that ' my lledeemer livetli.' I know 
 that Christ died for me, and that tlirough Him I hope for life eternal; 
 and that makes me liap{)y, and is enough for me. I can't ex[)lain 
 everything in the Bible. Neither can I explain how corn grows. 
 No man can. But I can understand enough of the Bible that is 
 l)lain. I know corn grows, even if I can't tell how it grows. I 
 know the sun shines, but I don't know what it is made of. These 
 hard things I leave to wise men. I have not much learning. 
 Bless God! I can read the Bible,, and understand what I must do 
 to be saved. That is enough. It makes me happy. God has 
 been good to me. I love Him, jind try to serve Him, and hope to 
 see Him yet in heaven. That is my religion." And in that 
 I'eligion John Gray lived and dietl. 
 
 Let it be borne in mind that John (jiiay was not illiterate. His 
 l)arents were pooi', and lived witli much difficulty by their daily 
 labor ; but they took pains to give John the best education at 
 tjieir commantl. John could read and write when he went into 
 the army. He said about the greatest pleasure he had while in 
 the army was in writing home to his poor old widowed motluu'. 
 He told me that he went to school two winters to Joseph Poss, .'i 
 gentleman who kept school at his own house, about four miles 
 from where John lived. He used to be up bright and early, clioj) 
 wood, kindle the fires, feed the stock, and be olF on his lour miles 
 of a morning walk to school, before seven o'clock in the winter 
 time. Little did he or his teacher then think that these humble 
 studies he then pursued were to be useful to him for well nigh a 
 hundred years of after life. Certain it is, that, for the last ninety 
 years of" John (i ray's life, the little reading- and wilting whirh he 
 
14 
 
 learned of Joseph Ross were John Gray's greatest comforts. He 
 read but few books, but with great care, and remembered almost 
 every word. The Bible, Pilgrim's Progress, The Plain Man's 
 Pathway, and the Constitution, ho could repeat oif the book, 
 almost word for word. 
 
 His want of })roperty excluded him from voting in Virginia for 
 his beloved Washington. And he often said, had it not been for 
 that, he might have lived and died in Virginia. But he was a 
 Republican at heart, and could not well get over the insult thus 
 levelled by aristocratic distinctions against his proud manhood. 
 Saving this, John Gray was a true lover of Virginia. He often 
 mourned and even wei)t over Virginia's wayward course in the 
 Rebellion — fur John Gray was loyal ; but when the war was over 
 all his feeling against Virginia left him. He remembered that 
 Washington and he were born in Virginia, had fought a common 
 foe in Virginia, and had returned in triumph from a war that 
 closed so grandly in Virginia. No Virginian need ever blush to 
 acknowledge John Gray's fame. He was a true Virginian, proud 
 of tlie Old Dominit)n — with all her faults loving her still. 
 
 I asked him last June if he would hang Jeff. Davis. "0, no," 
 said the old man, " that would do no good. The war is over. It 
 would only raise bad feelings against us. He can't do us any 
 harm. Let him live," I asked him if he thought the South 
 would come back all right, "0, yes, I guess so," responded the 
 old soldier, " when she cools off a little. You know those South- 
 ern folks are pretty hot-blooded ; but they'll come around all 
 right by and by." 1 asked his opinion of Grant. " Well," said 
 he, musingly, " he is a great General ; but I can't see into him 
 vei-y well. l:)Ut he will be our next President, though." 
 
 JOHN GRAY'S IDEA OF WAR. 
 
 In my conversations with the last soldier of the Revolution, I 
 was careful to get his opinions upon all kinds of subjects. He 
 thought deeply and spoke slowly at first, but kindling with his 
 subject, he would sometimes pour forth torrents of eloquence — 
 never shall I forget his earnest manner as he spoke to me about 
 war. He had been a soldier for his country. Of this he was 
 grandly ])roud. He had been one of Washington's favorite 
 
15 
 
 soldiers. Of this lie was doubly i)roud. His eyes had iirst opened 
 to see the liglit of day near Mount Vernon, Ya. As the old man 
 recalled his memories of the Revolution, its hardships and trials, 
 iiis bosom swelled, his eyes filled, and his voice trembled v/ith 
 emotion. (J, how he loved Washington ! The name was music 
 to dohn Gray. He had never got done s[)eaking of Washington, 
 and Mount A^M-non w^as dear to him. Often did he wish he might 
 once more see his own dear Mount Vernon, the home of his hon- 
 ored General. Washington was Well when John Gray left 
 .Mount Vernon, Sixty-eight years afterwards John (Jray was still 
 living, but Washington had been in heaven sixty-eight years. It 
 seems like a miracle, but it is all true. Ijiit 1 was speaking of 
 John Gray's idea of war. He detested war, except in defence oi" 
 our flag ; he knew what war was. I cannot better give you John 
 Gray's idea of war than by (juoting tlie following from him, 
 nearly as he uttered it to me : 
 
 Here is John Gray's idea of war — 
 
 •' The muses crown the gory hea<l of Mars with gay I'antastic 
 laurels ; the graces follow in his train ; the Fauni come leaping 
 from the woodS;, and the Nereids dancing from the waters, and all 
 the arts of poesy, painting, and scul^jture, combine their magic 
 elforts to adorn his bloody tem[)le, into which the millions of a 
 continent are crowding to do him honuige. 
 
 "The new Juggernaut is hailed with more than Hindoo ])ride 
 and enthusiasm by prostrate millions. 
 
 " Up go the shouts, and songs, and incense from the altars of the 
 great temple^ where thousands are daily immolated, and on rolls 
 the relentless car, while the })eoi)le dance and shout, and the vic- 
 tims die. 
 
 " Poetry ought to be true_, humane and rational, to be beautiful. 
 We may, however, admire the rhythm and pathos of the poetry 
 without approving those things it celebrates. The poet may 
 describe well what he detests at heart, and so I think of all this fine 
 writing, and fine singing, and fine talking about war. War is 
 ciuel, and rei)ulsive, and hideous, and yet we admire it ; we glory 
 in it. To have killed a man in time of })eace brands one with the 
 mark of Cain forever ; but in time of w^ar, the man who kills or 
 attempts to kill is held up as a paragon of all good. Use what 
 pretty words you please to express it, ))ut we are become a nation 
 of assassins. l^)lood used tomak(^ tlu! licholdcr shudd(>r and shrink 
 
16 
 
 away ; but now the more that he sees shed the more he is pleased. 
 It provokes a song, a great ])icture, or a speech, to do it honor. 
 Im})lements oi' war are more highly honored by us than tlie most 
 sacred elements of the sacraments. A cannon outshines a Bible ; 
 the 'school of the battalion' laughs at the universities; tlie 
 implements of the agriculturalist are deemed useless and fit only 
 to be handled by old women and cowards, and tlie ' councils of 
 war' sneer at the councils of law and religion. The common 
 citizen of yesterday is the strutting tyrant of to-day, and the one 
 time independent man is his involuntary slave. The law of the 
 Medes and Persians was not more irrevocable and relentless than 
 the thoughtle^ edicts of the man of ' brief authority ' who glories 
 in his rank. The humble soldier has no right that an officer is 
 bound to respect, while the officer can give no command that the 
 private is not bound to obey. An officer is as sinless as Jesus, 
 and a common soldier as fallible as Adam. Rank is everything. 
 You uiust wait till you receive its commands, as if you were a 
 condemned galley slave. 
 
 "The "^ Grand Lama,' or the Emperor of China are not more 
 absolute tyrants than many who wear the uuilbrm of officers in 
 tlie army. Crowd men together, and vice will as surely be the 
 result as that this massing of mixed classes in an unwholesome 
 place will produce disease. 
 
 " Language becomes polluted as well as thought and action. It 
 is the devil's rarest, choicest school. If you doubt me, go and 
 stay as long among the soldiers as I was, and you will not quarrel 
 with me for all this plain truthing. And yet you praise war, the 
 cloud of battle. And the figures of contending men look Avell on 
 paper. 
 
 " You cannot hear the groans, and the tliumler of battle is far 
 from your hearing. The wounded dying uncared for ; the hungry, 
 weary thousands lying in the snow ; the groans and cries of strong 
 men, who never murmur till the agony of disease or wounds makes 
 them cry aloud. Are all these pretty, fascinating things to 
 contemplate ? 
 
 "The soldiers in the field only laugh, as I well know, at the 
 thought that such pictures are beautiful^ and while they see 
 through all the hollow poetry of the war, they only take a simple 
 prose view of it." 
 
17 
 
 Our Fatuehs wkuk un thI'; KniiiT Side. 
 
 As our yoimt;- world ^rows older, 
 
 And wiser, and better with lime, 
 
 So men, with the care of a miser, 
 
 Will hoard up their j^lory sul)lime: 
 Forth to their children showint;' 
 Its l)eant_v and honor, and pride, 
 The i)atriot paj^cs still glowin'j, 
 
 ''Dm KATIIEUS WKHK ON TIIIC KKillT SIDIC." 
 
 Heroes will haste to the altar, 
 
 And swear the American youth. 
 
 Firm as the base of Gibraltar, 
 
 To stand for the cause of the truth. 
 Tide of seces.sioti still beatiiiL^ 
 iShall tind them too stronjr for the tide, 
 Ijijis with a (juiver repeatinjj, 
 " Our fathers were on the ritiht side.'' 
 
 Cumberland, U., Ajn-W^^ I8C18. 
 .1. .M. Dalzell : 
 
 J)car Sir — Yoti liave tldubtless heard ere this of tlio death <>/ 
 .lohn (Jray. lie died kSabhath eve, Marcli 29th, a<j;ed 104 years, 
 2 montlis and 215 days. I have his photogra})h and ;iutogra})h 
 e<)[)yri<i;lited ; they will be ready ibr delivery soon. 1 want yon 
 to send 1110 the jjrecise date ol" the act of Congress making him a 
 l)ensioner, as I wish to place a lew items of the old man's history 
 on the back of the pictures. JIow would you like to secure a })ie- 
 ture of the (Jray residence for your liistory? Please re[>ly by 
 return mail. Yours, truly, 
 
 1. N. KNOWLTON. 
 
 IIiramsbuik;, Nohee County, ()., April I, 1808. 
 Mr. James Dalzell: 
 
 Bear Friend : The last Revolutionary Hero is gone. Those 
 eyes that saw the inl'ant colonies engaged in deadly contlict with 
 the mother country are now closed. The tongm? that helped to 
 swell the notes of victory is now dumb. The heart that for more 
 than one hundred and four years kept tht; blood coursing through 
 the veins has ceased to l)eat — John (rrtiy is dead. Sunday, March 
 29, A. I). 1808, at fifteen minutes before nine o'clock, the s})irit 
 took its flight. The mortal remains now repose in the family 
 vault. 
 
 I take the liberty of writing to you to inform you of his death, 
 knowing that you have felt a great interest in the old hero. 
 
 I am sorry to inform you, and I know that you will be sorry to 
 hear, of the death of Dr. N. P. (yO|M'. He was buried on th(> 
 12th of March lasl. 
 
 These things s[u'ak for themselves. 1 will makt; no comnuints. 
 
 We have had no mail to puss through here for the last ten days. 
 You will see the difriculties under which we are laboring, but I 
 
18 
 
 suppose we cannot loi^k for any clianj^o for tlie V)etter for the next 
 four years. Truly, yours, 
 
 P. BURLINGAME, P. M. 
 
 f I'araphriv.sprl Crnm the Constitutional Union, Mr. Florence's paper.] 
 
 Birthday Ode on the Last Soldier of the Revolution. 
 
 Noarly a hundred years iigo — 
 
 A iituidred years to-day, 
 Our fathers met the British foe, 
 
 In that immortal fray. 
 At Vorl<town then old .John Ciray stood, 
 
 Gave Britain her last hlow, 
 And strurlv to drive the British olf, 
 
 A litindred years ajro. 
 
 Nearly a hundred years ago, 
 
 Our hero in his prime; 
 But now his head is wliite as snow, 
 His limbs grown weak with time ; 
 
 But let us gatlier round John Gray, 
 T/ic lad mail now alive, 
 
 And not forget this glorious day 
 Makes him one hundred and five. 
 January (3, 18G8. James M. Dalzeli-. 
 
 HiRAMSBUiujH, Ohio, February 1, 1868. 
 Mr. J. M. Dalzell, Wasliington, I). C: 
 
 Well do I remember what you have done to make old John 
 Gray's name and fame known to the world. When you were 
 living here, I remember that you did all you could to stir our peo- 
 l)le up to do something for the old man, in his poverty and his 
 old age. John Gray speaks of it kindly, and remembers you for 
 it. Last Saturday I went over — you know it is only a little way 
 from here — and saw him. I read him Mr. Jackson's poem, and 
 your poems too. He liked them very much. He says, as indeed 
 all our people do, that you deserve to be remembered with a 
 kindly remembrance, at least, for interesting yourself so much for 
 him, in s])reading his fame abroad throughout the land. The old 
 man is a little ambitious. He is proud of being the last man oi" 
 the Revolution. When he heard of Mr. Downing's death he shed 
 tears. "Ah," said he, "we two only remained. Now Mr. 
 Downing is dead. And as the prophet said once, well niay I say 
 now, ' I only am left,' " and the old man wept. fHs mind wanders 
 a little at times, and he often imagines himself talking to the 
 " Ginral," as ho always calls Washington. Alas, he will soon 
 talk with Wasliington " in the clear, u])per sky.' 3Ir. Gray's 
 dog still guards the old man's cViair. The old man si ill chews as 
 much tobacco as ever. I believe he could not live without his 
 tobacco. Just think ol'a man chewing tobacco for <| century? Jl 
 is the only fault the old man has. We all love him. Thanks to 
 the 39th Congress, and to Judge Bingham, especially, the old 
 
19 
 
 man has a ^ood [iciisioii. lie wants yoii to wiitt' liis history wlieii 
 he is <;(>ne. Will you do it? 1 know you will find it- a hard jol), 
 lor the old man's life has been very quiet. 
 
 Yours, truly, ' N. P. COl'K, M. J). 
 
 NoTK. — Iloctor Co]ie li:is since (lio<l. Sic /nnisit t/loria mniuU. 
 
 Mr. (iray was very iond ofdoj^s. He said he had always owned 
 a dog or two. " Though,"' said he, with a merry laugh, " 1 
 sometimes have had nothing else hut a dog ;" and musing a mo- 
 iniMit he added, " a plug of tobacco, of course, i'or without a dog 
 or tobacco 1 should feel lost." A little white dog lay coiled U}> 
 near his chair. " What is the name of your dog, Mr. Gray," 1 
 in([uired. "Nice," responded he; " is not that a ?</ce name," 
 h(> naively inquired, wliile his sides shook at the witticism. He 
 told me the biograpbies of several of his canine friends. I remem- 
 ber one only. When Mr. (Irays father first went into the army, 
 John was but thirteen years of age; but being the eldest of eiglit 
 cliildren, the care of the family devolved upon him. They had no 
 meat. They had nothing but a little cornmeal — rather a spare 
 lardei", my i'air reader of the nineteentli century's fulness. So 
 John w^ent out and caught rabbits to feed the family. His dog 
 "Lade" always was his companion u[)on these expeditions. What 
 John's gun failed to bring down, Lade's flying feet soon brought 
 low. I am glad that Mr. Uray has left us a picture of Lade. She 
 was a red female hound, with a white ring around her neck. He 
 told rae that he never cried harder than he did the day he last 
 saw Lade, except when he was leaving home to enter the Conti- 
 nental army. He told me that she died old and full of years, and 
 he laid her down gently to sleej) in tlie deep recesses of the woods 
 of 3Iount Yernon. 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO JOHN GRAY. 
 
 The frosts of five scorr, 
 And many years more, 
 
 Have whitened your l)lessed ohl hair: 
 Of glory a crown. 
 By Heaven sent down, 
 
 Now, fatlier, yon solemnly wear. 
 
 (), this is a crown. 
 By Heaven sent down, 
 
 More beautiful far than a king's ; 
 For angels in glory 
 Have made it so hoary, 
 
 And kissed all its silvery strings. 
 
20 
 
 Then wear the white crown 
 By Heaven bent down, 
 
 For vonr feel sliall soon prebS tlie hright sliore; 
 When yonder in ghiry 
 "V'our hair no more hoary, 
 
 Will wave in the skies evermore. 
 
 ( >, fair is the erown 
 l!y Heaven sent down. 
 
 For righteons old lathers in a.u'e : 
 A promised reward 
 Frinn hands of the Lord, 
 
 Laid down in the Bible's sweet page. 
 Fr/iniari/ 22, 1808. J.a.mks M. Dal/.icll. 
 
 Office of CiirioF Contractor, 
 St. Louis, Vandalia, and Tfrre Haute liAiLKoAi*, 
 
 St. Loi'is, Mo., February 10, 18(>8. 
 
 My Dear Dalzell : RccoUectino; with unaffected j)leaHuri; tlie 
 many intellectual bouts we have had, and preservini^ a lively 
 recollection ot'a lew of 3^our auiusin^j idiosyncracies, sucli as " no 
 )nau who wears a <jjood coat and is educatetl cau be hung in the 
 United States ;" and " the rising young man of the present gen- 
 eration conceals his drinking I'rom tlie jniblic eye, while the ' old 
 stager' drinks all around the circle, and a nation jokes about it." 
 '■'■It's a queer loay they have." I am to-day forcibly reminded of 
 your enthusiastic admiration for ^'^ Old John Gray," by seeing a 
 notice of that veteran pensioner in the Cincinnati Comniercial, of 
 the 8th inst. I grieve to add that my memory always has been 
 painfully impressed, when it recurs to the ''bouts" above referred 
 to. Let me, in calling your attention to a bad habit of " Old 
 John Gray" — \\z : tobacco-chewing — ask you to draw therefrom a 
 useful lesson. He chewed tobacco, and now at the jiremature age 
 of 104 years, is about to sink into an early grave. How deep and 
 yet unavailing must his remorse be? Take warning ! My dear 
 fellow^, 'tis nine months (by the clock) since we ])arted, and I 
 trust in that period that your ha})])iness has been uninterrupted 
 and your ])rosj)erity unbroken. May Fortune and Fame smile 
 upon your future. Permit me to send this under cover to Charlie, 
 and believe me to be really and truly, now and ever. 
 
 Abstemiously, your friend, 
 
 C. W. GARDINER. 
 
 The notice referred to above is as follows : 
 
 The " last man " of the Revolutionary War is John Gray, who 
 lives with his step-daughter, Mrs. McElroy, in Brookfield town- 
 ship, Noble county, Ohio. He is lO-l years of age, having been 
 ])orn in Virginia, a low miles I'rom Mount A^ernon, January (>, 
 1704. lie was at. (be siege of Voildown when in his iSili year. 
 but never obtaineil a jKMision until a yi'ar or two since, wlieii ii 
 was granted to him l)y a sjiecial act of Congress, through tlie 
 
21 
 
 etiorts ot" lion. John A. liiiii^haiii. Ik* is now nearly lic'l|i]es.s, 
 his lu'iirint;' bad, and liis t'yt'siL;lit nearly j;'<tiit', yet he can walk en 
 crutc'lii's. lie lias been a L;r('ai lohaiH'o-clunvcr all his lite, to 
 wliieli his preniatuie decay is j)rol)al)ly altrihntahle. 
 
 l-'roin the Wavkulky, of DectMubcr, ISCiJ. 
 
 THE LAST MAN OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 \)y the re[»ort of the Ooniniissioner ot" Pensions, !)nt one of the 
 Reva)hitionists is now living. The immortal army of Washing- 
 ton, all but one solitary veteran, has gone to the grave! Tlie 
 honor of the old guard lias been sung by more than two billions 
 of human tongues that long sinee have gone to the dust. And 
 yet this old hero lives on to hear a new billion of tongues trum- 
 peting the fame of the army of which he is the only living re{)re- 
 sentative. In the thii'd generation he is still living to see the 
 glory which Washington and his comrades achieved by valor and 
 [latience. But the writer knows of one lievolutionai-y soldiei- 
 whose name was never on the pension rolls of tiie United States ; 
 dohn Gray, now 103 years of age, who resides with his dauglitei', 
 in Noble county, Ohio. He was born at Mount Vernon, Vii-ginia. 
 .lanuary 6, 1704. He was but a mere boy when the war began, 
 and his father being in the army, he, the oldest of eight chiblren, 
 remained at home to help su})port the family. He says that Ik; 
 and his brother would go to the forest and fields to catch rabbits, 
 aiul that was all the meat they had. At one time he worked a 
 whole week at ploughing lor two bushels and one-half of corn. 
 His father fell at White Plains, and he, then only about Ifi years 
 -if age, promptly volunteered, took up the musket that had fallen 
 from his father's hands, and carried it until the war was over, 
 lie was in a skirmisli at William^burgh, and was one of the one 
 hundred and fifty men on that dangerous but successful ex]x.Hli- 
 tioii of ]\Iajor Ramsay. 
 
 He was mustered out at Richmond, A'irginia, at the close of the 
 war, and returned to field labor near Mount Vei'non. Mr. (jlray 
 inarried twice in Virginia, and once in Ohio. He survived his 
 three wives and all his children, except one daughtcu', who is now 
 nearly eighty years of age, and with whom \\o i-esides in Noble 
 county, Ohio. 
 
 He has always been a poor man and a Christian. He never 
 attem])ted any kind of speculation or business ; but has literally 
 earned his bread by the labor of his hands as a farmer all his life. 
 Eor seventy-eight years he has been a consistent member of tin' 
 Methodist Church, and never missed a single Sabbath from church 
 when it was possible to attend. He joined church at twenty-five. 
 He lias lived a sober, regulai", and industrious lile ; insomucdi that 
 he is now, and has been for half a centui'y and more, a model of 
 
22 
 
 ])iety to hiscliurcli in a degree not excelled by any of his brethren 
 in Christ. His hours of rising, working, and sleeping are regular 
 as the clock. He retires early, and rises before the sun. Seldom 
 is any Christian permitted so long and so well to be a "living 
 epistle, known and read of all men." More tiian tlireescore and 
 ten years has he lived to adorn the doctrine of the ^^aviour, by a 
 daily walk with God. Schooled as he was in that pure and honest 
 school which made Washington a good man, learning his lessons 
 from the fathers of the church and State who formed that beauti- 
 ful system of government under which we live, John Gray has 
 ever been a model man. Not one man ever was heard to doubt 
 John Gray's sincerity as a Christian and as a patriot. On visiting 
 the old man recently he said to us, in reply to the question "why 
 he enlisted so young," "I lived and was born near Mount Ver- 
 non, the home of Washington ; how could I do otherwise?" Such 
 an answer speaks volumes for the old patriot. 
 
 James M. Dai-zell. 
 
 In a conversation with Mr. Gray one was often sui-[)rised at his 
 wonderful powers of description. We shall have occasion more 
 than once to notice this in the course of his history. He was a 
 great admii-er of Mr. Lincoln, and in speaking of him often be- 
 came eloquent. We have room for only one of these fine passages. 
 The following is substantially as it fell from the old man's lips, 
 and in point of truth and beauty is the linest eulogy we ever read. 
 It is doubtful if a finer passage occurs in the works of any living 
 man. Here is Lincoln's eulogy by John Gray, only slightly 
 changed : 
 
 Where the clear waters of the Shenandoah join the turbid 
 current of the Potomac, are three great peaks of the Blue Ridge 
 Mountains ; three mighty granite columns, from whose lofty 
 summits the eye can see an area of more than three thousand 
 square miles of mountain, plain and valley. These three spurs of 
 the Blue Ridge are Bolivar Heights, Loudon Heights, and Mary- 
 land Heights. 
 
 Approach the traveller as he stands ui)on the bridge below, and 
 ask him which he deems the greatest of the three, and he will tell 
 you that in height, breadth, and all mountain majesty, the 
 heights of Maryland leads off tiie palm of superiority over its 
 other mighty brothers. Ascend Maryland Heights, and look up 
 the Valley of the Shenandoah, or the beautiful Valley of the 
 Cumberland, and from tliis height you can sec further than from 
 
23 
 
 riouclou or Bolivar. And at'ttM' you have turnetl your eyes back 
 u})on Maryland Heiglits, and j:;()ne twenty miles away, still it 
 looms u|) in lull view liii^U above Bolivar or lioudon. Bolivar is 
 grand, Loudon is beautiful, but Maryland is sublime. The sun- 
 shine ot" summer, the rain of autumn, and the frost of winter liave 
 pressed against its granite brow for sixty centuries, and yet it 
 stands hrm, unchanged, and full of grandeur as when it rolled 
 out of the smooth right hand of Grod. Emblem of beauty and 
 sublimity, an everlasting monument of Almighty power and 
 wisdom. The lightnings of heaven have spent their tiery passions 
 in iVuitless rage against its flinty brow, and the iron hail of battle 
 luis Ijeen sluittered often against its rocky breast, but still it stands 
 mocking the artillery of heaven and earth, frowning grandly 
 evermore at all the chance and change of its servant. Time. 
 Twin brotlier with Eternity, unchanged and unchangeable, there 
 it shall stand forever. How this mountain came to be here, we 
 cannot tell, for we were not present when the foundations of the 
 earth were laid; how long it shall stand, we cannot tell, for we 
 liave no access to the counsels of the Eternal. Enough to know 
 that there stands the lofty mountain peak, lifting its rocky crest 
 high u[) into the blue sky, away U}) to the region of the clouds, 
 (•rowned with garments of sublimity, and mute and solemn as 
 eternity. 
 
 At the commencement of this decade, three of the most promi- 
 nent })nblic men, perhaps, were Abraham Lincoln, 8te[)hen A. 
 Douglas, and Jefferson Davis. The name of JefVerson Davis is 
 mentioned here, perhaps, not in f^ood taste, but with a view to 
 contrast the fair fame of Lincoln and Douglas with the black 
 damnation of Jeff. Davis. 
 
 Davis was befbi-e the j)co[)le for office. The Charleston conven- 
 tion was a failure, and Davis, determined lather to reign in the 
 Confederacy than to serve in the Union, became the chief ct)ns[)ii'- 
 ator — the President of the Confederate States. The great heart 
 of Douglas was broken by defeat, and he died of disap})ointed 
 ambition. Lincoln outlived the war. 80 did Davis. Lincoln 
 f(dl a martyr; Davis lives in dread of the rope of the traitor; lives 
 witli the deep curses of a nation on his head, and in his dreams 
 is forever haunted with the gibbering ghosts of his victims, and 
 lives on in torture looking Ibrward to a death on the scailbld as a 
 traitor. But high above the names of Douglas and Davis, as 
 
24 
 
 ^Maryland above Bolivar and London^ stands the immortal name 
 of Lincoln . 
 
 Pure as snow is tlie cliaractcr of Abraham Linct)ln. The na- 
 tions revci'o him as their benefactor. The [)oor black man, as lie 
 prays daily to the Eternal B'ather of us all, piays that God may 
 make him as good as Lincoln. Lincoln was the redeemer of the 
 negro ; Lincoln is deilied in the negro's soul, for did lie not break 
 off his chains and set him free V 
 
 Accustomed as we are to try to account for the linal causes of 
 every great man's success, we naturally ask how did Abraham 
 Lincoln attain that high })Osition among men? We shall seek in 
 vain for a satisfactory answer. He was great. He made for 
 himself a name that shall never die. How he did it we cannot 
 tell. Tlie sibyl of fate has the secret in her own keeping, and her 
 ilumb lips will never open to tell us how the destinies of Abraham 
 Lincoln were sha})ed to make him what he was. 
 
 A book might be written on the schools and schoolmasters of 
 Abraham Lincoln. It almost moves a smile to s})eak of his schools 
 and schoolmasters. His biograi)hers tell us that he never went 
 to school more than twelve months in his life. His advantages 
 were small for gaining book learning. In fact^ he never knew 
 much about books, that is the most of books. In the school of 
 experience, and not in academic schools was this mighty genius 
 reared. Genius Lincoln undoubtedly had. It was not the genius 
 that can write an Iliad, or yl<]neid, or Paradise Lost ; it was not a 
 genius, perhaps, that could invent like that of Franklin, or Morse, 
 or Fulton ; it was not a genius like that of Na})oleon or Grant, 
 but it was a greater genius than any of these ; at least so it seems, 
 loved and worshipped almost as Lincoln is above all who have 
 lived or died. 
 
 He knew more of men than of books, Webster and Sumner — 
 Calhoun and Davis were masters of arts — but Lincoln master of 
 hearts. The learned and erudite teachings of the schools were 
 mysteries to Lincoln. He never translated Thucydides, or Ter- 
 tullian, Homer, or Virgil — he knew nothing of fluxions or e(|ua- 
 tions. Lincoln was no scholar — he might have been a great one — 
 but of books he was indeed ignorant. 
 
 But how high does his name loom above those of Webster and 
 Sumner, of Calhoun and Uavis. They knew more of books. They 
 were great scholars. He knew more of men. He was more 
 
25 
 
 earnest, more luniest and j)ersi.stent in his opinions, lie read tlie 
 great rout2;h heart of the American ])eople till lie conld repeat it 
 easily. lie sympathized with the }»oor, tor lui was jxtor. lie 
 sympathi/eil with the t)})[)ressed, lor he was o[)])ressed. lie sym- 
 pathized with the ignorant, tor he was ignoiant. He had thonght 
 deeply, .lust as soon as he learned anything he put it into 
 instant practice. He did not theorize and dream. He was neither 
 ])()et nor philosopher. He knew nothing of the rhetorician's rules, 
 hut he knew how to talk plainly, and sometimes with wonderful 
 effect, as witness his great short speech at (JettysLurg. He hardly 
 ever trimmed up his si)eeches and rounded oif his periods. He 
 was no orator, as Charles Sumner is — but he was greater, llo 
 saw all that was in a question — dug down to the roots of things, 
 and applied common sense to the explanation. He cared for 
 Truth and Justice. He was a RepuLlican from his heart. He 
 loved men, even as a man loves the woman of his choice. He 
 would do anything he could for the poor. He loved meicy. 
 (iod made him so. He followed these natural instincts when he 
 spoke against slavery. He hated wrong. He tried to make 
 wrong appear wrong, and right appear right. This inherent love 
 of right came from God — and it was the strongest power in Abra- 
 ham Lincoln, for he was thrice armed, having his quarrel just. 
 He had no care tor forms or formality. It was little matter to him 
 about ornaments, either in clothes or speech. He was a plain 
 man — so plain i)eo})le loved him. He was an humble man — so 
 humble })eople loved him. He was a poor man — so poor people 
 loved him. He was a friend of the downtrodden and they loved 
 him. He was loyal to his heart's core — so his loyal countrymen 
 loved him. He dived to the bottom of the questions of the day, 
 and the people loved to hear his wisdom and behold his familiar 
 look. He never could " i)ut on airs." The words of his li{)s wcmo 
 "like ai)i)les of gold " — all [)recious, and therefore beautiful. He 
 was too ])usy to ti'ifle with men. He was honest and leared God. 
 He never said fine speeches. He acted and talked the same way. 
 He spoke to one poor man, in his office at kSpringtield, just tln^ 
 same as to ten thousand poor meii in a crowd, or to the richest in 
 the land at the White House, He only had one face — it was a 
 l)lain one. He had been brought up poor. He had mingled with 
 the poor. He thus h.'arned his lessons from the ])oor. He raised 
 himself u}i bv dint of studying human nature- human wants — 
 
2G 
 
 huiiiau necessities, and adapting himself to them. If a man 
 wanted to know Abraham Lincoln's views on the slavery ques- 
 tion, if he would listen he would soon be told. He used parables 
 as Jesus did. This made his style simple and plain. This made 
 his words go home to the people's liearts. They understood 
 him, and he understood them altogetlier. There was no double- 
 dealing. What Mr. Lincoln learned from books never made him 
 pedantic. He seldom went to Virgil or Horace ; to Tupper or 
 Tennyson. He had plainer and better words than theirs, and so 
 he used his own words. His college had a large faculty. Every 
 man he met taught him. In school he learned of Dorsey, the 
 country school-teacher. At the grave of his mother the poor old 
 illiterate })reaclier taught him. At the legislature Trumbull 
 taught him, and Douglas taught him on the stump; of everybody 
 and everything he learned, and then he turned around and taught 
 the whole world, by example and ])recept, a lesson that they had 
 never known, at least never so fully practiced before, 
 
 "And so I close as I began," said Mr, Gray, "the three 
 mountain peaks of Maryland, Bolivar, and Loudon, shall stand 
 together forever in mute and solemn majesty, and even so the 
 three names of Lincoln, Davis, and Douglas, close together, shall 
 endure through all the coming ages, high above all men of these 
 times. But high up in the blue sky of an everlasting and glorious 
 fame, infinitely above the majesty of Douglas, and the infamy of 
 Davis, will ever stand the i)eerless name of the Martyr President, 
 Abraham Lincoln," 
 
 From the NoVile County (Ohio) Republican, of May, 1867. 
 
 OLD JOHN GRAY'S PENSION AS A PtEVOLUTIONAPtY 
 
 SOLDIER. 
 
 Wm. H. Erazier, Esq., of this place, received on Saturday 
 evening last, the Pension Certificate of Old John Gray, the old 
 Revolutionary soldier, 103 years of age, and who resides in Brook- 
 field township, Noble (this) county. Congress passed a special 
 act, Eebruary 22, 18G6, giving him a pension of $500 per annum, 
 to be paid semi-annually; said act taking effect July 1, 18GG. 
 When he receives this money, it will be the first he has ever 
 received from the Government which he so long and faitlifully 
 served, since he received his last pay under General Washington, 
 
 Wo ho])e that tlie old veteran may yet live to enjoy many pay- 
 ments of tlie bounly tliat has been provided i"or him by Congress, 
 
27 
 
 through the kind ititci'po.sition of our noble I'ejji'esentative, lion. 
 John A. Bingham, of Oliio. The old man greatly needed this 
 bounty. The pt'ople with whom he lives are very poor, and now 
 that .Mr. (i ray's liealth is declining he is (j[uite a charge ujion 
 them. The pension will be no less welcome to these poor people 
 than to poor old John himself. It will come like a welcome bless- 
 ing from heaven to their ])oor cabin. The Bible jiromises to the 
 righteous are herein verified : " Wiieri father and mother leave 
 thee the Lord will take thee up." " Lo I am Avith you always." 
 " I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Truly, it would be a 
 ]»itii'ul commentary on public justice, if Washington's last soldier 
 sliould be left to starve in the United States, llis pension came 
 late, but, thank God ! not too late. 
 
 From tlie Ohio Republican, uf March, 18C7. 
 
 THE LAST MAN OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 Iq the chill and snow of winter, 
 
 A dark and hitter night. 
 
 While the wind is mourning sadly, 
 
 Like a lone and ruined sprite. 
 
 In a cottage in Ohio 
 
 A poor and lonely man 
 
 Sits counting o'er the hundred years 
 
 Since first his life began. 
 
 In that cabin is one window 
 
 With many a broken pane, 
 
 Through which the snow keeps drifting 
 
 With all its might and main ; 
 
 And the old man sits and shivers, 
 
 For his tire is very low. 
 
 And his blood has lost the fervor 
 
 Of a liundred years ago. 
 
 His grey head bows in sadnes.s, 
 His prayer is murmured low, 
 But God can hear him now as well 
 As a hundred years ago. 
 
 ('all the roll of the noble old heroes 
 
 Who battled at Washington's side. 
 
 And only this voice in the ('abin 
 
 Will answer — for all the rest died ; 
 
 In poverty, sick, in distress, and alone. 
 
 Forgotten, neglected, yc-t he 
 
 Adores the fair banner he fought for of yore. 
 
 And prays for the "Flag of the Free." 
 
 J. .M. Dalzei.l. 
 
 Meagre as it is, what 1 give of John (nay's histoi'y is all Jhat 
 can ever be stated witli truth by any man, although poets, histo- 
 rians, and novelists will repeat my story through all coming 
 ases. 
 
28 
 
 My last visit to Mr. Gray, as before intimated, was in June, 
 18G7. At tliis interview I was determined, if possible, to get 
 nioie definite inlbi'mation in legard to liis [)arenta<;e and early 
 life. ^ly friend Mattliew McClary, of Noble county, Ohio, was 
 with me. I transcribe the notes which I then and there made of 
 that interview. I am sorry I could not make them more full and 
 accurate. Let future historians do so. It is my duty to give these 
 facts just as John Gray gave them to me, without addition. Mr, 
 Gray had grown quite infirm, and could hardly hear us speaking. 
 His memory, of course, had somewhat failed. So this may account 
 tor some discrepancies in this book. I will not try to explain 
 them. In the main they are not such as to give the reader any 
 trouble, satisfied as his mind must now be of the general truth of 
 my story. So here are the fragmentary facts elicited by that last 
 interview. Mr. Gray's father enlisted in 1777, and fell at White 
 Plains. Mr. Gray belonged to the militia under Captain Sanford, 
 and they were called out in the fall, in October i)rior to the year 
 tlie war closed. 
 
 I now give his words : "I was a mighty tough kind of a boy in 
 them days, I tell you. I saw big, heavy men give out, but I 
 never lagged a foot behind. We started from Fairfax C. H. and 
 went to Fredericksburg, and from there to Yorktown. When we 
 were near AVillianisburg orders came to send out a scouting i)arty 
 to feel of the British, who were then trying to come up to Wil- 
 liamsburg. AVe were too weak to fight them. But our captain 
 called for volunteers to go out on a skrimmage, and I volunteered 
 witli sixty others. We had gone only two or three miles wlien 
 we came u})ou the red-coats, in large force. Just as we got near 
 enough to fire I could see day-break. It was pretty hot for a little 
 while, I tell you. They had cannon — we had none. They fired 
 grajie shot at us ; but it was on rising ground, and they fired over 
 us. But we had to fall back, and so we then marched to Rich- 
 mond. In the next year Cornwallis surrendered. Our time was 
 out the day we came in sight of Yorktown. I went back to hard 
 work near Mount Vernon when the war was over. My people 
 was mighty i)oor, and there was a big family of us; so as I was 
 th(^ oldest of a large family, I had to go to work to support them. 
 There was eight children of us. I used to take my dog and go 
 out and catch rabbits. It was about all we had to eat sometimes. 
 I was married to Nancv Dowel! when I was twentv years old. I 
 
29 
 
 first niovi'il to M()rL:;;iiilu\vii, \'ir_L;Miiiii. \Yv liii<l all (iiif lliiii_i:;s in 
 a \vii;j;oi!. I took a notion I would <j;o down to Kentucky. So 1 
 built a boat, and put my I'ainily and liorses aboard, and went down 
 as far as Dilly's Bottom. There I stopped for nine years. From 
 there 1 went to Fisli Creek, took a lease to clear some land, and 
 stayed there seven years. 1 often came up through these parts in 
 them days. There was a salt-lick n[) on Duck (/reek, and we used 
 to come u[) and hunt of winters. I saw Indians, a ])lenty of them. 
 I remember the year of AVayne's defeat. I tell you the settle- 
 ments was badly skeered then. 1 may have shot one or two red- 
 skins -no matter. 1 was mari'ied to my second wife; at tlie Flats 
 of (Trave Creek. Her name was iMary Kagan. i don't know 
 where my children is now — I am afeerd they are all gone, except 
 my step-daughter. I have my crutches and a })ension to su})port 
 me. I am very well satisfied. God bless Judge Bingham lor 
 getting that pension he got for me. He was always kind to me. 
 1 always voted for him, because I have always known him to be a 
 good man. 1 tell you we hav'nt many more such men. He is 
 the soldier's friend. 1 saw that all through the war. He is 
 always ready to do a good turn lor a soldier. No wonder the 
 boys all like him." 
 
 Thus closed the old man's story. There he sat alone. He had 
 outlived his generation. His white hair, still abundant, ilowing 
 down over his bent form, made him seem a patriarchal hero. We 
 bade him good bye. 
 
 For the guidance of future liistorians, who shall lietter ])erform 
 the task of wiiting tiiis old mans l)iography, I would refer them 
 to Howe's history of Ohio, and also to a similar work on Virginia. 
 L)oul)tless the names of some of Mr. Cray's freinds may be found 
 there. The descendents of his (^arly fi-iends around JMountain 
 Vernon, ]\Iorgantown, Wheeling, Fish Creek, Dilly's Bottom, 
 and Flats of Grave Creek, may have some curious legends of his 
 early life. The history of Virginia does give the names of many 
 who knew John Gray of yore. So does the history of Ohio. To 
 those fond of the antiquarian task of searching old chronicles, 
 much ol" interest there would undoubtedly be in such researches 
 after the early history of John Gray. Noah Zaiu?, the AVetzels, 
 I'rakcses, Gossetts, llipsleys, Boneys,Thra})ps, Morrisons, Fosters, 
 Knoxes, Pipers, Htonekings, Scotts, (iearys, I'etei'ses, (;!oodrichs, 
 llarmans, Wileys, Pariishes, Nol)les, and a multitude^ of other 
 
30 
 
 pioneer families of Ohio, niiist have known Jolin Gray. So with 
 many ohl lamilies in Virfi;inia, much may yet he gleaned from 
 these. 1 have made no researches of that kind ; I liave con- 
 tented myself with taking; the few grains of I'act, and leaving 
 otliers to beat the ohl hnndles of dry straw for their aninsement. 
 I suppose John (iray knew his own history, that is, the history 
 wliich I give you. One might dilate much and digress more, and 
 parapliraso infinitely. The field is inviting, but it is left for 
 others. Think ol" the events wliich have occurred since John 
 (rray was born. Think of the events his life outlived. Is there 
 not a lield for comments When Bancroft, Headley, or Motley 
 come to write up the history of John Gray, in what stately peri- 
 ods, with wliat abundant metaphor they will recount these mighty 
 ])arallelisms. It will afford them an opportunity to rewrite Avhat 
 everybody knows. We will not try it. Our task is to gather up 
 here a little, there a little of John Gray's history. We are not 
 writing an old history ; we are not rehearsing American history, 
 we are finishing the history of the revolution with the history of 
 its last soldier. The rejected stone has become the head of the 
 corner. One niche only remained, in that we reverently Nvrite 
 John Gray ; and thus is finished, at last, the beautiful temple of 
 the history of the Revolution. 
 
 It may seem strange, that from the beginning, I have taken 
 such an interest in John Gray's history, I explain this by saying 
 that John Gray was my neighbor in Ohio for well nigh twenty 
 years, and that I loved tlie old man as if he had been my father. 
 I admired him — who could help it?- — for his rare and excellent 
 qualities of mind and heart. I loved him because he had fought 
 l'()s^the same flag that 1 had, and 1 loved him because he was so 
 much like Washington — plain, simple, honest, and good. I bow 
 down not to genius and rank, I worship only the heroes of the 
 true and the good. He was such a hero. His name should not 
 and cannot rot in oblivion. Through all coming time his name will 
 be named with that of Washington. I look upon him as preserved 
 through four generations to show his children and his children's 
 children what a noble type of men were our revolutionary fathers. 
 He was a worthy sample of that good old stock. Ask the people 
 of Ohio, and they will tell you there never lived in Ohio a better 
 man than old John Gray. 
 
31 
 
 III tlio midst lit' a iiieaddw is a CMhiii, in trunt nl tiif door is 
 an ()l(l-tUsliioned well, on tli(3 hill just above, and in full view, 
 perliaps two hundred yards off, is a little enclosure <^rown over 
 with weeds, where sleej) the remains of .John (Jrays people. As 
 1 approached the cabin, the ohl man's do<; ran out and barked 
 liercely at me. As I entered the cabin, a sweet <.!;irl_, of perhai>s 
 i'ourteen years, met me with a smile and invited me in. There 
 belbre rae stood John- Gray on his crutches, an old, old man, the 
 oldest I ever saw, and the most reverend. On his crutches leanin<;, 
 his hair ialling in snowy showers about his shoulders ; his hands 
 large, for he had lived by hard labor ; his feet small as a woman's ; 
 he was five feet eight inches high, broad, very broad of chest, and 
 with a massive head of perfect symmetry. He looked up at me 
 with his two sweet blue eyes and smiled. He was not ugly. His 
 smile made him look handsome; his voice trembled a little, l)ul 
 was pleasant ; a subdued and musical treble like that of a child. 
 i expected him to sit down exhausted ; he had been moving about 
 on his crutches, and was indeed tired. But, on sitting down, he 
 at once began to talk to us. His dog walked around and lay down 
 quietly beside Mr. (Iray, the sentinel of the old revolutionist. 
 Thus appeared John Gray in his 105th year, in his home in Noble 
 county, Ohio. Doubtless artists will yet set the picture in a beau- 
 tiful iVame in the Capitol of the nation, and thus for the first time 
 do honor to a poor .max. 
 
 [From tlic Gukkxsey Times, Ohio.] 
 
 THE LAST SOLDIER OE THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 Washington, D. C, April Id, 1868. 
 Dear Jiepubliccm Friends and Brolhers of (he Times : 
 
 1 have just learned by a {)rivate letter, from my sister, Miss M. 
 A. Dalzell, that John Gray, the last of Washington's army, is 
 ilead. The Sixteenth Congressional District will sincerely mourn 
 the departure of this wonderful old hero. I knew the old man 
 well. He was born at Mt. ^^'rnon, Va., January ('>, 1764, and 
 was in the one hundred and lifth year of ag(^ at the time of his 
 death. His father fell at White IMains, in the rK!Volutioiiary 
 army. Lik(!atrue patriot, .loim dlray took U[) the musket which 
 had I'allen from the hands of his father, and carried it like a hero 
 throughout the war till the surrender of Cornwallis. He was 
 present at that memorable event. Mv, Gray returned home to 
 field labor after the war. 
 
32 
 
 He told 1110 liiujsclt' that tliu first day lie ever \V(jrlve<l out was at 
 Mount Vernon, for General Washington. Just think of that! 
 
 John Gray moved to the Territory of the Northwest soon after 
 Wayne's defeat. He has lived in Ohio ever since, till his deatli. 
 Wasliington was born in Virginia — " first in peace." John Gray 
 was born in Virginia— last soldier of the Revolution. Historic 
 honor enough ibr "the Old Dominion." Alas, the fair escutcheon 
 of A^irginian glory has been darkened Ijy treason, since. John 
 Gray belonged to the JMethodist Churdi for eighty years — cer- 
 tainly the longest membership ever held in tliat great popular 
 church. No one ever said a word against him. His character 
 throughout life was as pure as that of a mortal can be. Imbued 
 witli strong religious feelings and deep patriotic instincts, he was 
 the truest, highest type of the Christian patriot. Forgetful of 
 self, Christ and country were all in all to him. A better, braver 
 heart never beat. It is impossible to be extravagant in his praise. 
 John A. Bingham, who knew him well, almost adored the glori- 
 ous old hero. You remember Judge Bingham found the old man 
 in poverty and distress, gave him money out of his private purse 
 and ])rocured a magnificent pension for him. 
 
 Strangely enough, on the 22d day of February, 1867, the bill 
 was approved granting John Gray $500 per annum — a fitting 
 tribute to the last soldier of the Revolution — on Washington's 
 birth-day. 
 
 Herald it to the world that the last soldier of the Revolution 
 died in Ohio. Rear a marble column to tell coming generations 
 that John Gray, Washington's last soldier sleeps in Ohio. Men 
 of the Sixteenth District of Ohio, aye, of the whole great Com- 
 monwealth of Ohio, bestir yourselves to honor Washington's last 
 soldier. Strike some plan by various and early subscription to 
 raise a marble column to his memory. Washington's last soldier 
 died in Ohio. Governor Cox wrote me last year that he sympa- 
 thized deeply with a scheme to rear a monument to John Gray's 
 memory. All good citizens of Ohio will contribute to it. Set me 
 down for a dollar. Are there not ten thousand other dollars ? 
 
 IjCt a column rise to Heaven 
 
 'Till sk_y and marble meet, 
 And sunlight of the mornin,;,^ 
 
 All its pallid beauty greet. 
 
 Yours, truly, 
 
 Dalzell. 
 
 The question may arise, have T a right to write and ])ublish a 
 history of John Gray. The following will settle that (luestion in 
 a constitutional way — for now-a-days, you know, a man must 
 show his constitutional right to do anything lie may do : 
 
33 
 
 At this point it may not be auiiss to look back to the first pro- 
 visions nunle by the iathers of the Constitution for (he advance- 
 ment of h'arnin;j; in the Uniti'd States. 
 
 Theii' intention was to begin our (ioviMiiment on the [irinciph* 
 of universal human equality, and so in all things to give all men 
 an equal chance in the I'ace of" life. This is the dominant idea of 
 our Constitution. George Washington, Roger Sherman, Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, and Charles 
 ]*inckney, were all literary gentlemen^ and in framing the Con- 
 stitution they carefully provided for the interests of literature, not 
 less than for the interests of commerce and civil government gen- 
 erally. It would have been strange indeed, if gentlemen so 
 eminently skilled in the use of our language had neglectetl lo 
 make the fullest and i'airest provisions lor art, science, and litera- 
 ture. But posterity has to thank the fatiiers for an early and 
 wise legislation in behalf of learning. Tiie (Constitution says but 
 little about literature, but the little it does say is ample enough 
 to meet the case, in all points. 
 
 The rights and privileges of authorship are sti-ongly chalked 
 out in the Constitution. All legislation since had on the subject 
 has found full authority in tliat instrument. The Constitution 
 recognizes no graduation of human rights otlier than that writ- 
 ten by tiie finger of God in the heart of num. An e([ual chance 
 is given to all to compete for the })rizes of honor, wealth and 
 official dignity. No caste is recognii^ed. Tiie })en of the poorest 
 boy in Oiiio is as free and untranimeled by any constitutional 
 law, as is the pen of a Governor or a President. You, whoever 
 you are, my reader, have the same right, and as much riglit to 
 trace your opinions on paper as has the greatest num in 
 America. If the ])eople care to read your thoughts, you aic 
 at perfect liberty to })ublish them broad cast over the land. 
 Your hands are not fettered. Your tongue is not tied. Your 
 thought that is in you may be freely and fearlessly ])roclaimed 
 wlierever you please. This is liberty of the ])ress. Tiiis 
 is liberty of speech. And to o})])Ose you by force in the exer- 
 cise of this undoubted right is a crime, punishable by law^ JOvcu-y 
 one knows tiiese things are so. And tiiey are so because our Con- 
 stitution makes them so. We are not left to guess what are our 
 rights to print and speak. Let us read the words of the Consti- 
 tution itself, and see what guarantees it contrains for authors and 
 inventors. Article first, section eight, enumerating the powers 
 of Congress gives to that body the })ow^er " to promote the pro- 
 gress of science and useful arts, by securing, for limited times, to 
 autlioi's and inventors, the exclusive right to their respective 
 writings and discoveries." Three years afterw^ards, at the second 
 session of the First Congress, "an act for the encouragement of 
 learning" was passed in conformity with the foregoing provisions 
 
34 
 
 ol" the Constitution. The sole right of publication was thereby 
 secured to authors for fourteen years only, with a privilege of con- 
 tinuing for a second term of fourteen years upon certain condi- 
 tions. At the same time s[)ecial ])rovisi()ns were made to so secure 
 the exclusive right to the author tliat he might pi'oceed against 
 and })unish others printing his work without his consent. In this 
 alone does our country difler from despotic kingdoms. 
 
 The Constitution puts no chains or fetters on any tongue or pen. 
 The points to which your attention is called are, that the First 
 Congress fully appreciated the interests of literature and took the 
 first and earliest o{)portunity to make the most wise and liberal 
 laws to promote and encourage all kinds of literature. The rights 
 of citizens as such, the rights of States, too, were all provided for; 
 but still the great absorbing interests of literature were not over- 
 looked or passed in silence by the frainers of our great organic 
 laws. The aim was two-fold— to furnish the people with useful 
 books, and to secure the right of selling the books to those whose 
 brains had made them. That section of the Constitution which 
 we have quoted, refers also to all kinds of inventions and discove- 
 ries which are of public use ; but wc pass tliem by for the pi'csent 
 to consider the provisions made in the interests of literature alone. 
 At ])resent let us see what are our laws about printing and 
 speaking. 
 
 American liberty is em[)hatically freedom of s[)eech and of the 
 [)ress. Not only are the rights of publishing and selling the 
 books confined to the authors, but the Constitution goes further, 
 and leaves the field o})en lor universal competition in the nuitter 
 of originating and publishing one's thoughts. Authorship is not 
 limited to any class of citizens : all who have the mental power 
 and culture to do so may write and j)ul)lish books, and secure 
 to themselves alone the copy-right thereof. No class privilege in 
 that. No monopoly in that. No man can write a book, })ublish it 
 and say to you or me, " there is my book, write one at your ])eril ; 
 1 have the right, you have not." No, sir. Brain and cultui'e, 
 sense and education, these are all the requirements for author- 
 ship. No man is born to it. Any one who has genius may write. 
 No man dare stop him. That is what we mean when we say 
 " freedom of the press." It means I have as good a right to go 
 into })rint as the President has. No man has a better right to 
 write than 1 have. There is and can be no monopoly of letters. 
 No monopoly of printing or speaking is given to any^ American 
 citizen. In the eighth section of the first article of the Constitu- 
 tion, I read these words : " No title of nobility shall be granted 
 by the United States." That means something ; I think it is like 
 all the rest of the C'onstitution, plain and easy to see. It means 
 just that, and nothing els(\ So then we see that we are to have 
 no poet laureates who shall liv(» on government salaries and 
 
35 
 
 government honors. xA.n equal chance is hehl out to you and nie 
 to write and publish, precisely as we ])lease, as much as any other 
 man can. That is all of it. Away with this nonsense about Tom, 
 Dick, or Harry having a better right to [)ublish his opinions than 
 you or 1 have. You and I are the judges ol' the whole matter. 
 We will write and publisii if we please, and ask no man. We 
 run the risk. If we ])lease to publish, no man can prohibit us 
 from so doing. 
 
 You will observe that all citizens are perfectly equal herein. In 
 the second section of the fourth article of the Constitution : " The 
 citizens of each State shall be entitled to all privileges and immu- 
 nities of citizens in the several States." When I want to go into 
 print in Arkansas or Maine, in California or Texas, all I have to 
 do is to settle these questions. 1st. Am I a citizen of any State ? 
 2d. Does any man in any State publish a book, a newspaper, or a 
 speech? If the answer to these questions is, " Yes," then all I 
 have to do is to go on and enjoy my Constitutional right of ])ub- 
 lishing freely any opinion I may have. Of course this freedom 
 has some restrictions, as every political privilege has. Everybody 
 sees that. Of course, no man ought to appear in j)rint until his 
 education and his genius warrant it. These things need hardly 
 be said. But yet let it be reniembered, the laws of the United 
 States do not deny to any man the right of freedom of speech and 
 i'reedom, with all proj)er legal restraints, of the press. 
 
 It is absurd to say any man has other rights than I have. 
 Chas. Sumner has a right to s})eak. So have I. Horace Greely 
 lias a right to publish a paper. So have I. I have the same 
 right, and as much right, to speak and write as Chas. Sumner 
 and Horace Greely. Precisely the same. Let us liear no more of 
 this monopolizing the press in America. One has the same right 
 another has. Let this be impressed on every mind — that no 
 writer in America has any more privilege under our Constitution 
 than you or I may have. We have no Princes of the Pen. We 
 have no Dukes of the Tongue. No man has tlie exclusive right 
 1o speech or of printing. No, no, the field is open for all. All 
 may enter, and contend for the honors. The people are the judges, 
 livery candidate for literary honors will stand or fall by the; 
 amount of talent, tact, and learning that he has. No man dai-e 
 t(i exclude him from the area. The Presid(Mit has no moie i'ree- 
 douj of pressor freedom of speech than has 
 
 \'(iurs, truly, 
 
 DALZELL. 
 
36 
 
 [From Chronicle of April nth, 1808.] 
 
 THE LAST SOLDIER OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 'To iJie Editor of the CJtronicle : 
 
 1 liave just learned through a private hUter iVuia Ohio, that 
 John Gra}', the last soldier of the Revolution, expired at his resi- 
 dence in Noble county, Ohio, on the 29th ot"]\Iarch. I knew the 
 old man well, having lived for nearly twenty years within sight 
 ol' his house, and frequently met and conversed with him. There 
 never lived a purer or better man. During the twenty years that 
 I knew him, I never heard one word against his character. 
 (Jreater praise than that is impossible. Every citizen of Noble 
 county, Ohio, knew and loved the old man. 
 
 John dray was born at Mount Vernon, January ('>, lld-i, 
 and was consequently in his one hundred and fifth year when he 
 died. He told me that he worked many a day on the jMount 
 Vernon estate for General Washington. At sixteen years of age, 
 John Gray entered the Continental army, and served till the 
 close of the war for our independence. He was at the surrender 
 of Yorktown. Mr. Gray removed to Ohio before it was a State, 
 and remained there till his death. His history will be written, 
 but I give these few facts as they come to my mind to-day. 
 
 Hon. John A. Bingham, of Ohio, knew old John Gray well, 
 and did much to help the old hero in his declining years. 
 
 The last soldier of the Revolution was an earnest friend of Mr. 
 liingham. Mr. Ringham i'ound the old man in very destitute 
 circumstances a few years ago, and determined to do all he could 
 for him. For some reason, Mr. Gray had never received any 
 ])ension. So I\Ii'. Bingham gave the old man some money to 
 relieve his most urgent necessities, and afterward juevailed upon 
 Congress to grant him a pension of $500 per annum. This act of 
 generosity and i)atriotism to Washington's last soldier was I'e- 
 membered greatly by old John Gray to the last hour of his life 
 The peojde of the IGth district of Ohio will never forget it. 
 
 Yours, K^c, J. M. D. 
 
 Washington, D. C, April 4, 1SG8. 
 
37 
 
 Tl 
 
 Fioiii SdMicfi' I'l-ii'ii'l. 
 
 r.ijiK AND Tiir: (Uiav 
 
 ^'(IU may sini;- of tlu> liliic .iiid ilic (Iray. 
 And iniiiglc their lines in yunrrliynn . 
 iiiit the Bine that we wow in the fray 
 Is covered with jiiory snldiine. 
 So, no more let ns hear of the Gray, 
 
 The symbol of treason and shame — 
 \\'e pierceil it with liullets — away ! 
 Or we'll jiierce il with Imllots atjain. 
 Then np with llie iilne. and down willi the Cii-ay, 
 And hurrah for llie i!lne that won ns llie day ! 
 
 Of the rebels who sleep in the firay. 
 
 Our silem.'e is liltini;' alone, 
 We cannot afl'ord them a hay, 
 A sorrow, a tear, or a moan. 
 
 Let oblivion seal np their ;^raves 
 
 Of treason, dissirucc and defeat : 
 Had they trinni])hed, the Bhu; had iii'en .-lave^-. 
 And the Union been lost in retreat. 
 Then np with the IMne and down wilii (he t!ray. 
 ,\nd hurr.ah for ihi' I'.liir that won ns thedavl 
 
 Of the rebels whom our mercy still spares 
 
 To boast of the traitorous fray, 
 .No lioy in the Blue thinks or cares. 
 I'or Ilu; strugulo is ended to-day. 
 
 Let them come as they jjronnsed to couje. 
 
 L'nder Union and Loyalty too: 
 .■\nd we'll hail tliem with fife and with drum. 
 And forget that they fired on tin; Blue. 
 'J'heii up with tiie Bine and down with the Gray, 
 And hurrah for tlir Blue th.at won us the d.-iy. 
 
 As they carried yotir (lag through the tray, 
 
 '^"e Northmen, ye promised the Blue 
 That yc'd never disgrace with the dray 
 The colors so gallant and true. 
 
 Will ye trace on the leaves of your souls 
 
 The Blue and the Gray in one line, 
 And mingle their hues on the scrolls 
 Which glorify Victory's shrine. 
 And cheer for the false, and hiss at the true. 
 And np with the Gray and down with the Blue? 
 
 Let the traitors all go if you may, 
 
 (Vonr heroes would punish the head,) 
 But never confound with the (Jray 
 'j'he Blue, wheliier living or dead. 
 
 Oh ! remember the price that was [laid — 
 The blood of the brave and the true — 
 .And you can never sutler to fade 
 The laurels that cover the Blue. 
 Then up with the Blue and down with the Gray, 
 And hurrah for the Blue that won ns the day I 
 
38 
 
 From The Soldier's Friend. 
 
 THE vp:teran,s begging. 
 
 BY JAMES M. DALZKU., 
 
 Of ihc Onr Hundred and Sixteenth Ohio Vol. Inf. 
 
 (Hi ! lis 11 jiiteous sight to see 
 
 All aged father come 
 And beg for bread, and be denied 
 
 By liaughtv sons at home. 
 Iiijrnititude of darkest dye, 
 
 More Jiiteous far tlian that. 
 To see tlie wounded soldier Imld 
 
 I''or alms his slonehinp hal. 
 
 Oh I see him stand for hours and days, 
 
 Where wealth and pride are near, 
 Lean on his crutch, and beg for bread, 
 
 With many a burning tear. 
 His proud heart pulses crimson pride 
 
 O'er manly cheek and brow, 
 But hunger mutters through his soul — 
 
 '• In battle hrave. be iioiv.'^ 
 
 Again he feels the battle-shock, 
 
 The bullets whistling by, 
 Tiie whizzing shell, the blinding smoke. 
 
 The demon rebel cry : 
 Again he feels, oh ! ten-fold more — ■ 
 
 More sore because afresh — 
 The bullets tearing through his limbs, 
 
 And crushing bone and flesh. 
 
 lie wakes, but not a rebel yell 
 
 Nor rebel host is there ; 
 Hut Peace sits smiling on the scene. 
 
 While Plenty hoards with care. 
 He feels his wounds anew again — 
 
 God ! can this be so ? 
 The soldier wounded by his friends 
 
 As well as by the foe ! 
 
 Let Peace still smile upon the scene, 
 
 And Plenty pass him by, 
 And all the promised gifts of these 
 
 Pass into words and die ; 
 But tell me not a grateful land 
 
 Can suffer this to be, 
 Till every star in Freedom's Flag 
 
 Is quenched in Treason's sea. 
 
 Wasiii.vgton, D. C, 18G8. 
 
JOHN GRAY'.S OPINIONS ON VAIUOUS ^3UBJE0To= 
 
 iN'rij<)si'K(n^A. 
 
 T'.Nij |i,iir of cyc^ to sec, 
 
 One ))!iir witlioiit, ;niil (jiii' 
 
 To scan the world within, 
 
 i!y man :irr si-hloni won. 
 
 Tilt,' ox lias eyes to sec 
 
 Till' straw on which hi- liaiiii'S, 
 IJiit in that inaniniolli Imlk 
 
 Tlici-c liiirn no spirit huiips. 
 
 Man alone lias iiowur to ji;az( — 
 And few Dicn even this — 
 
 • In lieaiitv's charms, and feci 
 I'llcctric ronianc{>, hiiss ! 
 
 This is the cync I love. 
 
 The power to look within. 
 To till the eiiii)ty air 
 
 Willi visions hriiihl akin. 
 
 To the higher tonus and inovilda 
 Ho transulistantial liroad ; 
 
 The olowinf;- bust divine 
 
 ( If I'.cautv, Music, (iod. 
 
 To hear anthems pealinj; 
 
 The spirit aisles all thron^^li. 
 Till the heart i|uakps with joy, 
 
 Slirrin;^. siildinie, and true. 
 
 I see shapes in the nijilit 
 
 No other eyes can see ; 
 1 hear strani^e voices ring 
 
 In accent.^ full of rjlce. 
 
 And pale groups of ghosts 
 
 Around my pillow flit. 
 And I wake from ghostly dreanu 
 
 " To many a nmsing fit.'' 
 
 1 feel ihe touch of hands 
 
 No other mortals fuel; 
 And fight, with demon arms. 
 
 Ho.«t.'5 mailed in more than steel. 
 
 1 talk familiar with 
 
 The spirit of Perfect Life. 
 And see her footsteps strike 
 
 From earth, its toil and strife. 
 
40 
 
 I touch hands, a? if friends, 
 With Beauty ranging all 
 
 Nature's pure and sweet domains, 
 And feel her blessings fall. 
 
 This is a high joy to nie, 
 
 And I love to live in 
 Creations thus illumed 
 
 With lamps just lit in liea\cn. 
 
 The dust^' toil and drag 
 
 Of a weary life, and poor, 
 
 I would not lengthen out a day, 
 
 Were I compelled to live a boor. 
 
 But sometimes it seems to me 
 'Twcre better I were dead, 
 
 Than drink at founts of joy 
 
 By the heart's red current fed. 
 
 For tiiese jiassion lamps must drink 
 
 The being's ripest oil, 
 And end its fiickerings all 
 
 With life of aimless toil. 
 
 r.uiMi on ye lamps within, burn 
 Till yv burn the spirits down : 
 
 Then ashes fly in Fate's cold face. 
 And tell her I was not a clown I 
 
 t^inie, ye cold eternal winds, 
 
 And tia]i your wings into my face, 
 For sooner shall it cool not 
 
 In time's tempestuous chase ! 
 
 J. M. Dal/,kll. 
 Wa.shington, D. (J., April 29, 1868. 
 
 Where did our Bible come from ? God liandcd it down to his 
 j)eople in the country. Ho addressed his meek servant i'vom a 
 hiirnin^ hush ; He opened tlie heavens and descended in thutuhu'- 
 ings and lightnings upon trembling Sinai ; He sent his people to 
 dwell in a land flowing with milk and honey ; He hid his prophet 
 in a rock ; PTe sent the ravens to feed anotlnu' holy man ; He sent 
 ►Samuel to annoint a country-boy as the king of Israel ; and in a 
 thousand places, and in diverse ways showed his will and pleasure 
 in the country. The reader of r(!velation need not he reminded 
 that almost ev(>ry ins])ired writer liveil in the sacred solitudes, 
 away from llo' city. Some were shepherds, some were farmers, in 
 a certain sense ; and nearly all lived in tho(;()untry. And then 
 the sweet jxtetry of every age ; where did it Spring from ? As tiie 
 shell sings of the sea, so genuine poetry sings of the scenes tliat 
 
41 
 
 fjjtive it birth : ami liciici' wad your |»()(_'tr\', iiiid .see how much ol' 
 it was pi-odiiced in I'ural scenes. Tlio j)oetry ol' the I'ihle, tlie 
 sul)limest songs, because tVoni the suLlimest source, the poetry of 
 tlie Bible, came from the simple children of nature. Go read 
 that iirst sonjj^ of emancipation, sung on the l)loo(ly shores of the 
 lied sea, after the '•' bubbling death groan " of the Egyptian host 
 had died away i'orever ; read the tender, tou(;liing story of Uuth : 
 folhnv the sweet singer of Israel through his heavenly ilights ; go 
 then to the "Song of Songs," and as you read there the tender 
 address of tlie liedeemer to his redeemed people, inhale that holy 
 enthusiasm that will (jualify you for joining with Isaiah, \o sing 
 strains of divine music. The Bible, the poetry of the Bible, thi; 
 celestial imagery of inspiration, as if too pure and holy for the 
 city, were iirst poui'ed down in rural scenes. 
 
 Painting and sculpture Avere at least commenced away from the 
 clamor and smoke of crowded cities. You can easily imagine 
 some shepherd, sitting on a green hank, looking down into a (juiet 
 stream, and there seeing his own image reflected, starting u}) to 
 make an imitation of it on some smooth rock, with his shepherds 
 crook ; or marking witli hlood, or the Juice of the red-mountain 
 l)erries upttn the great leaves that lie has plucked from the palms 
 1)elow. And again you behold him stooping down to collect some 
 red clay, with which he is to form a rude image of his dog or his 
 sheep. Here may have been tlie commencement of those fine 
 ;irts that since have engaged the genius of a Wren, a lleynolds, a 
 Parr, and a West. In fine, we see the peasant or the shepherd at 
 one time a philosopher, reasoning on the causes and eftects of rain, 
 sunshine and darkness ; at another, a j)oet singing the praises of 
 Pad, or faithful (Jer(\s, upon an oatstraw pi})e, invoking the aid 
 of his imaginary muse : at another time, the subject of a ])ower- 
 ful inspiration, writing " what man is to believe concerning God, 
 and what duty God requires of man ;" at another time we hear 
 him uttering strange sounds, and see him Avriting on bark and 
 leaves and skins, always inventing or discoursing, always begin- 
 ning the work of civilization, reformation, and general education. 
 All honor, then, to the farmer !--that he is always foun<l in tlie 
 vanguard ol" evei-y noble and etfective work, dust as the sons of 
 the sf)il, the men of stalwart Ibrm an<l giant limbs are first to 
 clear our forests and prepare our roads, they are first to polish the 
 rude, unclassic mind, and elevate the race. He sits no longer, like 
 
42 
 
 til*; simitlc' ;uirioiii.s, uii tovvtM'.s ami clili's to (^alcli t,li<' sliailow of 
 (■•iiiiiii^^ events iVdiii the tlij^lit oC birds, itr listeti to the sound of 
 their wings, or hurning laurel, or star-gazing ; but in tlie clear, 
 |)lain sunshine of intelligence he thinks, reads, and thinks, and 
 judges witli a ehnir head and a pure lieart. No longer does he 
 stand, like Andromache, pouring out milk and blood on the hono- 
 rary tomb of a liero, but near the real tomb of his patriot fathers 
 he swears eternal vengeance to tyranu}^, and eternal allegiance to 
 IVeedom. He goes to no Helicon and Parnassns to drink inspira- 
 tion from faldcd muses, gods, and fountains, but he luirries to 
 Mount A-'ernon, tlie Delphian vale of America, and stands anon 
 on Bunker Hill with enthusiasm, and a desire to make America 
 worth tlu' l:)lood that was there poured out for her redemption — 
 and to make lier thus great and noble by cultivating her generous 
 soil, and improving her extensive lands. He remembers the time 
 when a devastating army wasted and impoverished his country so 
 tliat a cartload of continental money would not buy a wisp of hay, 
 and he determines to make his country rich and strong, so that if 
 a warlike force should invade his land, it will have tlie power to 
 repel his violence and drive him away with si)eed. He is an 
 upright, honest man, the " noblest work of fTod," " eyes nature's 
 walks, shoots tolly as it flies, and catches the living manners as 
 they rise." God has appointed him to be his treasurer, and he 
 feels it ! 
 
 There are persons who, as Halleck says, " Are too proud to 
 weep," and too polite to swear, Avho imagine that the honors of 
 the peasant are very humble and mean. Would such a one hear 
 an illustration of the principle that contentment, not station, im- 
 parts happiness? A Roman general was once passing the Alps, 
 and stopping at a little village of simple mountaineers, he was 
 praised, and one asked him if he were not very happy. He 
 replied, " Indeed I am not I I would rather be the chief of this 
 village than tlie ])roudest general of Rome I"' 
 
 No one knew how heavy his honoi's jiressed upon his proud 
 heart, as he vainly strove to satisl'y that unholy ambition which is 
 so common to the high and noble, and so seldom Ibund among the 
 inhabitants of the country. A certain woman ol)serving iVristo- 
 zones weaving a splendid diadem, expressed her opinion that he 
 must be happy. " 0, mother," returned he, " if you knew how 1 
 I feel. If you saw a diadem lying on a dung-hill you would not 
 
43 
 
 pick it i\]>." O, tlie siiiiplc .joys of tlie country. TIow iiir they 
 transcend flu; pleasures of tlie camp, the city, oi' the ".^reat empoii- 
 iinis of trade. 
 
 Survey now tiie history of departed ages ; call the roll of the 
 mighty dead, the dead that are yet, like Wehster, livings and as 
 you call their names, ask them whei-c they were horn, and tell nic 
 how many hoarse voices reply, in the country. Is it not a multi- 
 tude that no man can number ? 'VUoso. who \vvvt) horn in the city 
 are the exce])tions ! (xcometi-y, that pure, natui'al sci(!ncc ; 
 algebra, that system of signs and symbols, and surveying, all 
 were born in the country. The whole system of circles, curves, 
 j)lains, triangles, and lines, is ma[)ped out in the fields and on the 
 shores of every land, and from things so simple as the curve of a 
 liver, or the angles of lands and stones, men })roeeeded by imita- 
 tion, co})ying nature and reducing her laws and forms to rules 
 and systems. 
 
 It is a matt(u- of history, that only for the inundations of the 
 Nile we should probably yet have to write that "Things which 
 are equal to th(> same thing are e(|ual to each other ;" or that 
 other law, that, "The square described on the hypothenuse of a 
 right-angled triangle is e({uivalent to the sum of the squares 
 described on the other two sides." 
 
 To Arabia we owe the discovery of ai-ithmetic — to a country 
 where towns are rare. 
 
 What in science do we not owe to the country r" 
 
 P)ut Son of Science, will you acknowledge that the simple chil- 
 dren of nature — the peasant and th(> shepherd have given you 
 your dearest themes ? 
 
 You say Homer, th(> rich old bard of Scio's isle was a country- 
 man. Undoubtedly he drank his inspiration from the classic 
 shores, from the pleasant hills and vales of blooming Greece. 
 But was not the mother of Demosthenes a root-gatherer? what 
 a contrast ; one day to see the boy following his mother to the 
 fields to dig herbs and roots in the hills of (Ireece, and another to 
 see him standing up before thousands of his asseml)l(Ml cnuutry- 
 men, 'making the very throne of Philij) rock and tremble. r>rutus. 
 rvincinnatus, Scii)io, Cato ! AVhat a constellation of country- 
 men I Virgil himself cultivated a farm near ^Mantua, as is evident 
 from the fact that after the lands around about that place were 
 divided among the Roman soldiery, Virgil's lands were restored 
 
44 
 
 t'» liiui by Aii;^ii.stiis. (Joni|);ii'o Antony, raised and paiujjcred in 
 luxury, to plain uuas.suraing J>rutu.s, willing only to die tor oi' 
 I'rue liis country. How often is the contrast between the prou.d 
 citizen and the liunihle ])easant as great. As we pass, notice 
 Jerome and Augustine, the sterling lathers of Christianity, and 
 tell rae did they s[)end their lives in bestial Itome or haughty 
 Atliens? Newton was not in a city when he discovered the law 
 of gravitation— he was sitting in an orcliard I Gassendi was 
 travelling through the country when he })i'oved to his boyish coni- 
 |)anions that they saw the clouds and uot the moon moving. Gold- 
 sinith aud Burns were nearly always in tlie country. Byron and 
 Scott and Moore spent much of their time in the fields. 
 
 It seems reasonable for mau communing with nature to rise in 
 liis thoughts to the Author. " If there is design, there must have 
 l)ecn a designer ; and that designer was (lod." Thus, Tliom['- 
 son, speaking of the Seasons, says : 
 
 "These, as they cliau^i^'e. are hut tlie varied fJod."' 
 The drift of all these i-emarks is to sliow tliat it re(|uii'es Chris- 
 tianity to make even the fanuer happy. I believe it is easier ibr 
 the farmer to be a Christian than any other man, merely because 
 lie has fewer cares and simpler joys and less temptation. I don't 
 i)elieve they are the only happy men, but tliey are the uiost gene- 
 lall}" lia}>py of any other class of luen. 
 
 But, as I am to speak about the country without coloring too 
 highly the picture of rural felicity, let us leave the poet's iiction 
 and fancy and ask first, what do we owe to the country? We all 
 love music. It was born among the hills and valleys. The 
 " morning stars sang together" — "■ the sons of God shouted for 
 joy." We read about " tlu^ music of the spheres," and how 
 "when music, heavenly maid, was young, first in early Gi-eece she 
 sung." Wo have listened to the old legend that a shepherd attend- 
 ing his flocks on the mountains broke off a reed and was rejoiced 
 to hear the sweet sounds he could produce upon it. Nature gave 
 us music, Itut yet she retained eternal volumes of it for the country. 
 She has placed a l>ipe in th(» mouth of every menibei- of the 
 leathered clioir, and among the branches of her Icnfy children 
 they delight t(i make musii; all the year. Break youi' pianos, 
 melodeons, and dulcimers, and every stringed instrument of 
 music, and come with me to the mountains and listen to the 
 music of the waterfalls, and the perpetual base of the ocean below, 
 
45 
 
 or the iltM^iei' Ijast' of the thunders ahove, and the wihl s()|>rano of 
 tlie winds and think you, can we not reproduce tliose insti'unient.s 
 again ? 
 
 The t'arnier si'arclies causi's and ell'ects ainon;.;" ihe eh-ments. 
 He renienihers the time when the sea-weed was counted useless, 
 hut now hears that iodine is usel'ul in daguerrotyping and more 
 useful in curing scrofula ; he knows the crocus yields a most 
 effective cure for the gout ; he knows the ])otato in Peru was 
 once thought useless, and he laughs as he smokes his evening 
 ]>ipe to read ahout a certain king writing a great hook against 
 tohacco; he knows the use of the twisted leaf of China, tlie cane 
 (if the Indies, and the fragrant gums of Arabia. All these 
 things the true i'armer knows, and by them he is encouraged to 
 study everything and see what use it can be put to. He believes- - 
 
 " That they whom tnitli and science lend. 
 May gather honey from a weed ;" 
 
 He " reads sermons in stones, hooks in running brooks, good 
 in everything." The zephyr, the harebell, the hyacintii, 
 [\\o, rose that blo(»ms in his garden, and the eglantine and 
 myrtle that circle round liis " old house at home ;" the thundei', 
 the storm, tlie calm, the seasons, the fields — everything teaches 
 him some useful lesson. He is a student of Nature. Only one 
 great slur has ever been put u[)on the peasant. It is liis 
 want of refinement and breeding. If refinement is to dissimu- 
 late and act the hypocrite, then the farmer has not tnuch refine- 
 ment. He is usually a plain man. He tells a man he thinks that 
 lie is honest, that he is dishonest, that he is a wise man or a fool — 
 just what bethinks, i)lainly. Refinement says "don't speak youi' 
 mind, be cunning !" 
 
 O that those who charge clownishness and im[)oliteness on the 
 l)easantry, would remember the time they must spend in the sun- 
 shine and the shade, and the rough labors of the fields and forests. 
 Fops and useless dandies in cities and towns, good for nothing 
 and burdens to community, should never be allowed to say an}- 
 thing against the honest farmer. 
 
 The farmer has no time for travel and reading, says aTiolher. 
 He has little time I admit, but in this little time his mind is frcsli 
 and clear and active, and hence we find many larmers who are 
 Well ac(juainted with politics, science and religion, fjord liuileigli 
 advised his son llolx^t (yVcil, afterward I']arl of Salisbury, " Not 
 
46 
 
 to suffer his sons to cross the Alps, for they shall learn nothing- 
 there but pride, blasphemy, and atheism ; and if by travel they 
 get a few broken languages, that sliall profit them nothing more 
 than to have one meat served in diverse dishes." We know this 
 is true. How oi"ten have we scon our young men go out like the 
 prodigal son and spend all their substance in riotous living, and 
 then return and settle down in a rented cabin to starve them- 
 selves and families. We do not expect farmers to be travellers 
 and readers, like Taylor and Benjamin, any more than we expect 
 stage actors and tailors to be expert at making rails and driving 
 oxen. "Act well your part," says some one, "for there the 
 lionor lies." Cicero affirmed that it was not the part that we 
 liave in the play, but the way that we act our part that gives us 
 tlie honor. 
 
 * ;|: :i: ;[: ;f; * :i: * 
 
 Slavery was the mother of treason and adultery in a thousand 
 forms, the prolific parent, too, of rapine, murder, and a thousand 
 forms of oppression. 
 
 Slavery ignored human rights. The cry was not against tlie 
 black man alone, it was against all the poor. 
 
 Slavery loved to live in dark places, concocting and executing 
 hellish crimes. 
 
 When the slave system was shattered to pieces with Union bul- 
 lets the cry of vengeance rose iVom the black lips of treason as it 
 stood shivering over the bloody remains. Then Booth fired, and 
 Lincoln fell. Then the traitors banded together to renew the con- 
 flict. Then innocent blacks were shot and hung, and Union men 
 murdered in their beds. Following this came the riots at the 
 South. Then tlie miserable rebel governments came insolently 
 knocking at the doors of Congress. Blatant blackguards and 
 traitors, with hearts like devils and faces of brass, dared to parade 
 Pennsylvania avenue in rebel uniform. They dared even to pro- 
 fane Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, with shouts of treason 
 at tlie Convention in August. Here was born the Ku-Klux-Klan. 
 
 Alarmed at these signs of reviving treason, the friends of the 
 country rallied once more to save the Government. Thank God, 
 by the ballot they have succeeded well. Thanks to Boys in Blue. 
 
 The men wlio murdered unoffending negroes at the Soutli, and 
 the men who incited riots there, and the men who preached a 
 crusade against the Thirty-Ninth Congress, called themselves 
 
" Conservatives." A mild name, indeed, that is lor men who could 
 fire on the star-spangled banner. Conservatives — Conservatives ; 
 ves, these same Conservatives fired on tlie flag at Fort Sumter, and 
 never ceased their fiendish eft'orts to destroy the Union, till Grant 
 compelleil them at Apponuittox to surrender up themselves and 
 their arms. How were the mighty fallen then I Then they prom- 
 ised, aye swore to submit to the Government of the TTnited States. 
 Kow well tliey have kept these oaths history shall tell. Their his- 
 tory since 18G0 will be comprised under the heads of Perjury and 
 Treason, when the new Encyclopiedia American comes out. 
 Grant compelled them once to surrender. 
 Grant will compel them to surrender again in November. 
 But what do you call the men who oppose all these rebels ? Why, 
 they are Union men. None of them ever fired on the flag. These 
 men are the Republican Party, the only Union party in the land. 
 These are the men who fought your battles at Bull Run, at Shi- 
 loh, Stone River, Antietam, Gettysburg, Atlanta, and the Wil- 
 derness. This party always said slavery was wrong. This party 
 killed slavery. This party saved the Constitution of the United 
 States. The Conservative party tried to destroy the Constitution. 
 But some call the Union ])arty Radicals. Radical indeed they 
 are. P^arnest men are always Radical. Good men are always 
 Radical. Bad men are always Conservative. A Conservative 
 winks at one man, and then at the othei'. A Radical has one 
 face only. A Conservative has two i'aces, and can smile on one 
 side, and frown on the other at the same time. A Radical believes 
 all men have rights, and tries to secure these rights to all. A 
 Conservative thinks Rights are all bush, and he thinks no one but 
 himself has rights. 
 
 A Conservative begins his prayers with " O, good God," or 
 "Good devil." The Radical, knowing he is right, looks up man- 
 fully to God, and says " Our Father." The Conservative kisses 
 like Judas, and denies like Peter. The Conservative trembles lest 
 he oftend somebody. The Radical knows offences will come to 
 every one who endeavors to free and enfranchise his fellow uien. 
 
 The better impulses of our nature are radical. When I see a 
 man strike a woman or a child, I feel like knocking the rascal 
 down. That is radicalism working. P)Ut next I reflect that I 
 may get myself in trouble, and then 1 do nothing to save the 
 defenceless. That is conservatism. Conservatism thinks one 
 
48 
 
 thing and says another. A fat office will make a conservative 
 still more conservative, that is make him afraid to squeak. 1 
 know men who are so scary ahout position^ that they v/ould swear 
 that Andrew Johnson is the Tycoon of Japan if they thought 
 that would keep them in ofHce. A real guilty rehel iiates a man 
 who has so many tongues. 
 
 The spirit of the age is intensely radical. Majorities at the 
 ballot-hox show it. The increase of schools and churches proves 
 it. Our people are not so bad, after all. The majority are good 
 peo[)le, and ^>adicals. The minority will soon succumb. When 
 a majority is so good, and so strong, too, it must prevail. Surely 
 all men will soon learn that all others have rights as well as 
 themselves — and that is all the Radical party preaches. Radical- 
 ism will advance over the ruins of slavery and treason. The j)eo- 
 ple will learn to do right between man and man, and peace and 
 prosperity, secured by wise and wholesome laws, and not by the 
 thunder of battle^ will follow — and that right soon. And, con- 
 eludes Mr. Gray : 
 
 " Men are growing tired of fighting against Right — the spirit of 
 the age. Wrong and Oppression have marshaled their hosts, and 
 their battle has been fought and lost. Right and Freedom are 
 triumphant to-day. Men will learn how dearly tyrants pay for 
 trying to oppress their fellow men. A sense of those higher 
 Christian duties which each owes to the other will soon dawn on 
 the yet darkened intellect of our race, and all men, moved by a 
 good impulse, will yet ' do unto others as they would have others 
 do unto them.' " 
 
 MR. GRAY'S NOTION OF A HOG IS VERY AMUSING. 
 
 The hog thinks a heap of himself, and hates you. A hog is a 
 man that wants his own share of everything, and your share, too. 
 He is generally a sole corporation without a soul. If he goes into 
 business, he goes it by himself. If the hog takes anybody into 
 partnership with him, he takes him in. He never studied gram- 
 mar any further than ^^ mine" — he left school before he got to 
 "Ihine." He is lull of parables. You never heard a better 
 preacher than the hog. To hear the hog talk you would considei- 
 him a saint disguised in flesh, consenting to be a man for a while 
 just to teach men how to live. But just wait till he acts once, and 
 
40 
 
 you will see Ik; is ;i ii'iil swine, with the devil inside iiiid a man's 
 coat on the outside. The hog eats all he can reach. The hot; 
 does all the talking in the coni[)any. The hog never listens. The 
 hog is always rooting the dirty mud up, and putting it on some- 
 body's clean character with his ugly black snout, and goes along 
 rooting and stinking, and grunting as he roots, 
 
 1 want U) lie 11 iiojj, 
 
 Anil with the lioggios dwell. 
 
 VIA) .MEN VERSUS YOUNU MEN. 
 
 Tile prevailing idea is that old men are better than young men. 
 Jt is false in fact, entirely false. Youth is full of fire and energy. 
 Old age is stupid, cold, and slow of movement. Why could not 
 old llalleck or old Scott do as well as young (}rant or young 
 Sheridan? The answer is simple— they were too old ibr use. 
 
 Is it not so in official positions here, too? Old fossils usurp the 
 places of young blood and young brains. Of course, we would 
 avoid extremes. Too young a man is zero. Too old a man is 
 zero. But old age is venerable. True, it is and ought to be ven- 
 erable, but old age should charge no money for being venera- 
 ble. Old age is time for rest. Youth time for action. Decrepit 
 age should make way for young blood and brains. When old 
 fossils hang on too long, death, the friend and ally of human pro- 
 gress, sweeps old age into oblivion. 
 
 A THOUGHT. 
 
 Thought moves the world. Thought is (lod. Matter is the 
 universe. Thought set it going, and keeps it going still. A 
 thought of a man is a tlirob of his spirit. When spirits think 
 they live. When spirits think not they are dormant, dead for the 
 time. Thought s})rings from the brain, as the goddess s[)riing 
 from the sea. Thought controls men. Thought makes watches 
 and pins. Thought uses the steam and electricity whicli God 
 made. It flows out of the brain, and makes the material world 
 dance again. It leaps like lightning out of mind. A thought 
 never dies. Immortality is stamped on every real thought, and 
 it cannot die till God dies. To find out one of God's thoughts is 
 to discover an island beautiful and grand in the boundless God- 
 head. 
 
50 
 
 EXHAUSTION VERSUS SUGGESTION— PREACHERS. 
 
 I used to lu'ar a very [)i()us, l)nt very simple old preacher preach 
 every Siiruhiy. The old man was very exliaustive. He was very 
 learned and very diffuse. He never for a moment supposed his 
 congregation knew anything exce})t what he told them in his ser- 
 mons. He would use np two hours of a hot summer Sunday 
 proving that sin is wrong, that man is mortal, that God is good, 
 or that hell is hot — ;just as if the merest child in the congregation 
 was not already fully convinced, before he said a word. His ser- 
 mons were exhaustive ; they exhausted me, for many and many a 
 long snooze I took under the awning of his preaching. And they 
 exhausted the old man, too ; for he took the sore throat, or some- 
 thing that way, and died, and now slee{)s in the old church-yard, 
 a victim to exhaustive preaching. 
 
 There are multitudes of preachers just like him — yes, and 
 writers, too. They take up a subject and consider it objectively, 
 and subjectively, and mentally, and morally, and physically, and 
 ■proximately, and absolutely, and practically, and emblematically, 
 and horizontally, and latitudinarily, and every other way, until 
 they exhaust themselves and you. And so they think by l)ursting 
 one of these learned bomshell.s over you to terify you with their 
 mental power, but after all it's only smoke and dust, just like the 
 bursting of a puff-ball. 
 
 We like suggestive writing and speaking. We love to be left 
 to think for ourselves. We want no writer or speaker to do all 
 our thinking for us. To touch and go, and sip the foam of many 
 themes — this is our idea of agreeable and useful writing and 
 speaking. Franklin is full of hints. Solomon is full of suggest- 
 ions. You can take up Solomon's suggestions, or Franklin's 
 hints, and think and think about tliem. Yes, the perfection of 
 writing and speaking alike is to be full of suggestions. 
 
 HUE AND CRY. 
 
 The old common law process of pursuing with horn and with 
 voice all felons, was adapted well to the day and age in which it 
 was used. No sooner was a crime known to have been committed 
 than pursuit was made from town to town, and from county to 
 county, until the felon was taken and delivered to the sheriff. 
 All the people were commanded to join in this hue and cry by 
 voice and honr, and to follow the criminal on foot and on horses. 
 
51 
 
 blowinj^ hoiiis ami ciyiii^^ aloud until tlic criminal was overtaken, 
 apprehended, or killed. If the town or hundred iailed to join in 
 this })iil)lic outcry and pursuit, action lay against the hundred. 
 
 Railroads, steamboats, and telegraphs have rendered this old- 
 t'ashioned method useless, for now the hue and cry after the fleeing 
 felon is made by the whistle of the steamer^ the scream of the loco- 
 motive, and the lightning click of the telegraph. No man can 
 outrun the steatn or the lightning, and the public press simulta- 
 neously raises the hue and cry all over the land. Wherever tlie 
 criminal flees, the hue and cry is around him, and he cannot 
 escape it. 
 
 GOD. 
 
 Do you know what God is? I do not; 1 can conn»rehend a 
 little of anything, but not much, for my capacity is very small. 
 1 could understand 2, 4, or G, may be 139 or 100 ; but when it 
 comes to a 1,000 or 1,000^000 at once, it is too much for my little 
 mind. We are finite, but we can't comprehend all finite things. 
 The national debt of l)illions I can say over, but I cannot cora})re- 
 hend it, and yet it is finite, that is, it is limited. My eyes can see 
 a big ])icture, but not the whole sky, nor the whole sea, and yet 
 these are finite. But there are God's thoughts more numerous 
 than the dollars of our national debt ; there is God's presence 
 covering sea and sky, and more. If I had God's mind I could 
 understand all his infinite and eternal attributes, but with my 
 feeble powers, I can only view the infinitude of God, as a man 
 born blind sees space. 
 
 SLEEP AND DREAMS. 
 
 Sitting alone in my room, I reasoned thus of sleep and dreams : 
 Philosophy, in vain, attempts to explain the mystery of sleep 
 and dreams. They lie away beyond the boundaries of human 
 reason. The waking mind seems to be one, and the sleeping mind 
 another. The waking body seems to be one, and the sleeping 
 body another. l')Ut if is the same mind, and it is the same body 
 whether awake or asleep. r»ut in sleej), the powers of the body 
 are no longer obedient to the volitions ol' the mind. The form 
 seems to be lor a time divorced from its spiritual mate. The mind 
 wanders off and forgets the body. The body breathes the air, 
 circulates the blood, and passively awaits the return of the 
 
52 
 
 waiideriii|^^ .spirit. VVlifii thu spirit rcluni.s Ironi its .'urial fliglits, 
 the body shakes olF its slumbei's, and arises, l^'or a moment time 
 and place seem strange. The awakened eye looks wonderiugly for 
 a little time at the real world before it, and it is only after an effort 
 of the will, now master of soul and body again, that the clouds of 
 tlie spiritual world are lifted from the vision, and one sees the 
 tangible forms as they exist. With these half-formed views in 
 my mind, I fell asleep. Sleep fell gently upon me, and my ears 
 were closed to all terrestial sounds, and my eyes blind to all sub- 
 lunary scenes, and my hand lay familiarly in the hand of the 
 Invisible, while my spiritual eyes saw new intangible creations, 
 and my ears drank in the very essence of music. I trod the soft 
 floor of the infinite, while a blue sky, not round, spread itself, 
 like an illimitable sea, before my view. I was no more " of the 
 earth earthy," but purely spiritual. Corporeal things had van- 
 ished forever from me. The incorporeal essence of things, thought, 
 and being, rolled its thin gauze around my soul. I was all soul. 
 Body had perished, and lived not even in memory. The universe 
 was no more a hard thing upon which to fall was to be crushed. 
 It was soft, spiritual, light as air. One could drop through mil- 
 lions of miles of this canopy of spirituality and feel no more shock 
 than he would from the act of breathing. There were no wings. 
 The child's idea of cherubs and angels having wings seemed gross 
 and absurd. All was thought. Thought needs no feathered 
 wings, no more than light needs wings. To wish was to will, and 
 to will to accomplish. One volition of the will transported one, 
 quick as lightning, just as far as the soul would wish to go. This 
 was sleep and dreams. 
 
 James M. Dalzell. 
 
 THE MOTHER'S PRAYER FOR HER SOLDIER BOYS. 
 
 An old man sits in liis easy chair, 
 
 His eyes grown dim witli years, 
 And the frosts of age are on his hair ; 
 
 His cheeks are wet with tears. 
 
 The old man sits in his lonely chair, 
 
 His wife is long since dead ; 
 His heart is full of an echoing prayer, 
 
 The last on earth she said ! 
 
 " My two brave boys in thy mercy spare, 
 God, if it be thy will. 
 Wherever they may be to-night, there 
 Thy goodness guard them still." 
 
53 
 
 Her spirit tied to the far s\vet.'t land — 
 
 Her boys bad goue before : 
 Uj) from the Viattle reaching- a hand 
 
 To greet her on that shore. 
 
 'rill' old man sils in hi.s lonely ihair, 
 His wife is lont; since dead : 
 
 His heart is fnll as it echoes the prayer 
 The dvintr mother said. 
 
 J. M. I).\r.-/Ki.r,, 
 
 Contrast is what regulates our estimate of things. When tiiis 
 contrast is strongly marked, we call it novel. A long succession 
 of occurrences of the same kind wearies us. Hut let tlie scenes he 
 shifted, and we are somehow delighted at tiie change, let it he 
 what it may. This is the leaven that keeps the world working — 
 the desire of change is what makes change, as the desire for heirs 
 causes tlieir procreation. 
 
 But what we most desire to look at now is this reality of lil'e. 
 Whatever costs us labor, soon becomes irksome, for we naturally 
 love ease. The real duties of life will often be found to contlict 
 with our own wishes. " Necessity knows no law," and by the 
 sweat of our brows must we earn our bread. This is the rule that 
 governs mankind — -whether they will love it or not, they must 
 obey it. 
 
 Physical man needs exercise to keep the vital machinery in 
 healthful play, and this exercise in some way or another must be 
 employed in gaining subsistence for the body— the feeding of the 
 stomach is at last tlie grand ultimatum of human labor, »Some 
 preconceit of tlie thing destroys our capacity for investigating and 
 understanding its essence. We will carry a kaleidescope and see 
 tilings all discolored and distorted, when, if we would look at them 
 with the clear eyes God has given us, we could see them just as 
 tliey are. Every one designs and projects plans and purposes for- 
 eign to his taste or his abilities. It was well for Alexander to be 
 Alexander, because he could be nothing else; but we, in attempt- 
 ing to be Alexanders shall probably be nothings. And it is not 
 improper to plan and purpose early and well, and to these to 
 adhere witli diligent perseverance, but this mapping out of a 
 future course in life should be the legitimate offspring of a careful 
 and thorough self-examination, and a correct knowledge of our 
 own powers and ])(»ssi])ilities. W the unreasoning hap-hazard 
 self will have me di. 1.h<> tiling, 1 shall ask judgment to sliow me 
 
54 
 
 why, and how, first of all, the end shall be attained. No more 
 common error besets our paths than this, that my strongest desire 
 is the index of my ability to do. But we shall not forget that the 
 critics show us that the mistakes arising from this is what makes 
 the lowest comedy. A man of eighty, by some hallucination, is 
 led to imagine that he is strong, agile, and handsome. Under 
 this delusion goes into society to play the gallant, and the poor, 
 deluded old fool becomes the by-word and the sport of the rosy 
 young damsels, who tolerate his ridiculous attentions for the 
 amusement that he affords them. My desires and my abilities 
 may be as widely separated as those of the old man just cited. 
 No, this is not the rule. Put him at what he likes best, is a fossil- 
 ized adage that nine times in ten puts the man out of the way of 
 doing the only one thing he can do well. Universal genius is like 
 the diamond — it is scarce and precious, and easily detected. But 
 the most of us have but limited minds. We must not attempt too 
 much, or we shall do nothing. For this reason the old temple 
 had written above its doors, " Know thyself." To know this is 
 to know our whole power and duty. My bowels will listen to no 
 sophistry, and as Emerson says, " the belly will not be reasoned 
 down." 0, Stoics, how have ye failed, inasmuch as all your false 
 formulas could never make a starving wretch think he had been 
 well fed. Epicureans, tugging at the other extreme of Error's 
 lengthened chain, how have the gross vessels of the animal man 
 discomfited you, and vomited back in your very teeth the super- 
 fluous trash with which your philosophy had burdened them. 
 " The last feather breaks the camel's back," says the proverb, and 
 the moral of this, as applied to the wants of men, would seem to 
 be, that more than enough is as bad as less than enough, 
 and that breaks down the system by its superfluous weight, 
 as the other suff'ers it to decay by reason of its insufficiency. 
 What we want is a golden mean in all the economics. 
 
 Most of us see nature through a glass darkly; I mean most of us do 
 not allow our mental eyes to look at the naked principles of nature. 
 
 What should we think of the mariner who would leave a good, 
 sound shi}), his accustomed track u[)on the sea, and embark on 
 unknown waters in a crazy old vessel, and without a compass, 
 and all this merely to gratify a whim? And yet, thousands do 
 precisely this on the sea of life, without consulting age and experi- 
 ence as well as their own minds, hearts, nerves, blood, and limbs — 
 
55 
 
 without standing face to face lionestly with self, and trying to 
 see if the means and tlie end are in any rational relation to each 
 other, we rush into things either to gratify our own wrong preju- 
 dices and had passions, or otherwise to gratify cunning or foolish 
 counsellors. If a man tsliould advise me to lly, i would laugh at 
 his gratuitous folly, hut should he very sorry to make the attempt 
 of flying from the church steeple. And so if he should advise me 
 to undertake some mission for which I had no manner of fitness, 
 or to enter some ofiiice or profession which was either dishonor- 
 able,, worthless or hazardous, would I not he (juite as foolish to 
 take that advice as the other i^ 
 
 If we take cool and judicious glances at the things tliat sur- 
 round us, and measure with a careful eye the forces that are in 
 us, we shall generally find scope for all we can do of any given 
 work. First comes the survey of the land, marking out the metes 
 and boundaries of the field in which our short life is to be spent ; 
 then comes the preparation for the work, then the work, ami last 
 of all the results. The agriculturalist, standing face to lace with 
 nature's stern truths all the time, more nearly follows her bidding 
 than any other man. lie pre[)ares the ground in due season and 
 with great care, sows good seed in good ground, and cultivates 
 the ground while the tender corn is growing, and leaves the rest 
 to God until the harvest time. If in other things there were such 
 method in our labor, what grand results could be attained. Some 
 begin at the wrong end. Expect a harvest before any labor is 
 done. 
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY. 
 Reality may be fitly compared to the broad, l)lne sky ; and 
 romance to the occasional clouds that Hit across it. Ileal ity is 
 oftener found than romance. Indeed this is the chief excellence 
 of romance, that it is rarely seen. I have not much notion that 
 life would afford us much pleasure in the aggregate, if all sorrow 
 and pain were banislied from the world. We would then never, 
 it is true, be tormented with any mental or physical suft'ering ; 
 but life would be one unvaried succession of insipid }»leasures. 
 Constituted as our frames now are, a more desirable state of things 
 than that we now live in cannot be conceived. We are ])laned, 
 mortised, and built in with the lust of (Jod's works. We may 
 mourn over the wants and weakness of humanity^ struggle on 
 
56 
 
 vigorously nmong the waves that we know shall at last swallow 
 us ; and with eyes almost blinded and hands almost palsied, hope 
 against hope, and tight against fate — this is the reality of lite. 
 
 Romance rears palaces in the clouds, opens cooling fountains 
 in the Sahara, and makes things seem other than they are. Ko- 
 uuince throws enchantment around everything that the heart may 
 desire, and almost uniformly deceives its infatuated followers. 
 Attachments the most sacred in name, but the most vile in essence, 
 are often formed through the magic influence of romance. Would 
 it not be romantic? Then, by the gods, I will attempt it. This 
 is the philosophy of unphilosophic youth. It is the tem})ter and 
 destroyer oi' virtue, truth, and hap[)iuess. Youth does not ask 
 what is " the true, the beautiful, ami the good," hut what is the 
 strange and wonderful. The stern truths of history, the mild 
 teachings oi' {)hilosophy, the abstract reasonings of pure mathe- 
 matics — how quickly are these left for the " Lamp of Aladdin," 
 " Jack the Giant Killer," or " Goody Two Shoes," This is the 
 period of memory and imagination, of staring wonder and marvel- 
 lous fancy. It runs on into manhood, too, sometimes, and when 
 indulged merely as a pastime, ami not entertained with earnest- 
 ness and avidity, and pursued witli unreasoning diligence, 
 romance has its uses. It is a beautiful pastime. It is a painter 
 that frescoes as well the cottage of the j)easant as the paluce of the 
 king. It fills the sky, the sea, tlie earth, and even the illimita- 
 ble region of mind with pictures sublimer and grander tar than 
 any of Apelles or Raphael. 
 
 For, if eighteen hours out of the twenty-four the black clouds 
 frown upon us, and the other six are illumed with sunshine or 
 gemmed with stars, or crowned with rainbows, we shall love these 
 six hours the more, and enjoy them the better. 
 
 At times all is quiet in nature, scarce a leaf moves in all the 
 forest, and the greatest sound we hear is the chirp of the cricket, 
 or, perhaps, the cheerful warbling of the thrush. But on comes 
 the storm apace ; the zephyr at first gently rustling the myriad 
 leaves of the forest, growing into a gale, swelling into a storm, 
 and mounting at last into a terrific liurricane, screaming and 
 liowling to the wild accompaniment of the sublime thunders that 
 hurst j)eal u])on peal from the great batteries of heaven. The scene 
 tlius presented suddenly to us awakes the most sublime and the 
 noblest findings. We are filled with wonder, and staml in mute 
 
57 
 
 and sacred a.sti)iii!sliiiieiit in the presence of the unveiled toice.s of 
 nature. + > ^^ * Youn^ men, scarcely out 
 
 of college, <^raHi> at jxisitions designed alone for age and experi- 
 ence. Of course they fail. Others see fitness in themselves lor 
 things that they cannot thj ; others see in themselves a capacity 
 that no other man can see. In short, a great multitude elect 
 themselves to places where God never designed they sliould he, 
 and where they never will he. 
 
 Piomance lies at the bottom of all these fatal delusions. What 
 Fancy produces that the hand attempts to grasp, hut too often 
 finds, when it is too late for amendment, that the glittering toy is 
 filled with ashes. I could wish myself such a man as he, the hero 
 of the story that 1 have just read. 1 get the fancy into my brain 
 .somehow, that I can ef[ual or sur])ass him. l-'ollowing my ideal 
 of perfect manhood with diligent imitation for years, I at length 
 find that 1 am upon the wrong track ; I have some things which 
 he liad and some which he had not, but I finally discover that that 
 one thing which I lack, was just the very means by which he suc- 
 ceeded — so I stop short discouraged. In vain I try to work after 
 some other model. My young, fresh ardor is lost, and I do not, 
 if I can, attain to any measure of success at anything. 8o my will 
 is puzzled, my hands and ray brain paralyzed, my ambition and 
 self-confidence gone, and I settle down, thinking I have tried hard 
 njy best powers, and if they can do no good, why then it is of no 
 use to fall back upon my second rate talents. Useful lives are 
 tlius lost, as battles are lost by rash and ill-planned attacks. Can 
 another point out the exact mathematical measure of my abilities ? 
 Or must I judge all about it myself? Others, to be sure, and 
 especially my enemies will mark my blunders as they fall, and 
 hold them up to tlie derisions of the mob. 1 can leain much Ity 
 hearing what my enemies say of my blunders, and what my circle 
 of IViends tell al)out my merits. Putting these togetiier, letting 
 judicious and calm tfioiight try all their opinions by the best rules 
 within my reach, I can learn much that I ought to know. What 
 others advise me to do, if" judgment approves, that I should at- 
 tempt. Put if a man fails in a thing for a long time, is he to 
 jiersevere in it, or turn to something else? There is another 
 momentous question. Failures will often attend the wisest and 
 noblest efforts. "There is no such word as fail in the vocabulary 
 of man." " What man has done man can do."-— These two 
 aphorisms, however clothed in woi'ds, always come n[> to the mind of 
 
58 
 
 the determined but unfortunate adventurer. But there is much 
 I'alsehood, ruinous counsel in both, inasmuch as the one encour- 
 ages a blind perseverance, even to inevitable ruin, while the other 
 is notliing but a lie. Man cannot do whatever man has done. 
 Thousands of men stand out as heroes in history, whose lives and 
 actions have been parodied by herds of unsuccessful imitators in 
 all ages. No, no, if you can perform some great feat, which it is 
 out of my power to do, I can never do it, and that is all of it. 
 But how shall I know before I try ? Very well — one should know 
 liis own capacity, and then judge, if it be in his power, to accom- 
 plish the required task ; and if it be wortiiy of him, and not an 
 idle whim, lie should attem[)t it, and he will accomplish it. The 
 old by-the-way of the Latins, tlie qualifying word for almost any 
 pro[)osed possibility, is a good thing to I'euiembcr " aeteris 
 paribus." This done^ let the critics hiss while I whistle ! 
 
 We are indebted to Hon. 1). IS. Gibbs, Probate Judge of Noble 
 county, Ohio, for a copy of tlie will of John Gray. The will, as 
 eveiy one knows, could not be probated until after the death of 
 tlie testator. The will was probated April IG, 18G8, and reads as 
 
 follows : 
 
 COPY OF JOHN GKAY'S WILL. 
 
 In the name of the Benevolent Father of all, I, John Gray, of 
 tlie county of Noble, and State of Ohio, being now in tlie 104th 
 year of my age, of sound mind and memory, though my limbs 
 are feeble, and I am the last survivor of the Revolutionary war. 
 
 Item 1. I give and devise to my only daughter, Nancy McElroy, 
 and heirs, forever, all the moneys, goods, chattels, and effects, of 
 whatsoever kind or nature, that may be in my possession at tlie 
 time of my decease, only asking that she, the beloved Nancy, will 
 still continue to take care of me while I live, as she has done here- 
 tofore. And the above devise is made to compensate so far as I 
 am able the said Nancy McElroy for the care, kindness, and atten- 
 tion tliat I always have received at her hands. 
 
 Item 2. I do hereby revoke all i'ormer wills by me made. In 
 testimony whereof I liereunto set mv hand and seal this 14th day 
 of February, 1867. " JOHN GRAY, [seal.] 
 
 Signed and acknowledged by said John Gray, as his last will 
 and testament, in our presence, and signed by us in his presence. 
 
 PHILIP BURLING AME, 
 JOHN W. SCOTT. 
 
 A true cojiv from the records of the court. 
 
 D. S. GIBBS, 
 [seal.] Probate Judge, Noble county, Ohio. 
 
59 
 
 Tlu' t'ollowiui^ beaiitit'ul poem is tVoiii tlu' pen of ;iii esteemed 
 brother Sicma Chi — J. Wicklifte Jackson, the i»oet. When I 
 was retuiiiing tVoiii my visit to .loliii (iray hist summer, 1 met 
 l)rother Jackson at Wheeling, and we came tlirough together to 
 Washiniiton. I had met this kind brother before on the occasion 
 of the last Biennial Convention of tlie Sigma Chi at Dr. Samson's. 
 It will be remembered that on that occasion he was the poet of 
 the day. When 1 met brother Jackson at Wheeling, he was 
 leturning tVom the commencement of Indiana State University, 
 where lie liad delivered a i>oem at the re<[iiest of our brothers 
 Sigma Chi. He is, perliaps, the most distinguished poet in our 
 fraternity, and one of whom we are justly })roud. l)rt)tliers Samson , 
 Wahl, Devol, Dixon, Murray, Meredith^ Weills, and all the rest 
 of my brothers will bear me out in this assertion : 
 
 On our way to Washington, I related Jolm Gray's story to 
 brother Jackson, and he promptly transformed it by the talismanic 
 touch of genius into the following " rhythmical creation ol' 
 beauty,'" which 1 here insert alike in honor of John dray and the 
 Sigma (.'hi : • 
 
 [From lliu Noble County, Uliio, lleiniblicati.] 
 
 JOHN GRAY. 
 
 1!Y .1. WRKI.IKKK .IACK.«0.\. I)K WILMI.NtiTON. DKI. 
 
 [JoH.N Gray, tlie subject of this I'oem is, iictordiu^- to the reconls of the War Depart- 
 iiu-nt, the last man of the Revolution, lie now resides in Hrooklielil tuwiHhip. thi> 
 county, and will be 104 years of age ne.\t January. — En. Kkpubi.ican.J 
 
 1. 
 
 One by one the severed links have started 
 
 Bonds that l)ound us to the sacred i>ast : 
 One by one, our patriot sires deiiartecl, 
 
 Time hath brought us to behold the last ; 
 Last of all who won our early glory. 
 
 Lonely traveller of the weary way, 
 Poor, unknown, unnamed in song or story, 
 
 In his western cabin, lives John Gray. 
 
 Deign to stoop to rural shades, sweet Clio ! 
 
 Sing the hero of the sword and plow : 
 On the borders of his own Ohio, 
 
 Weave a latirel for the veteran's brow. 
 While attuned until the murmuring waters 
 
 Flows the burden (jf thy [lastoral lay. 
 Bid the fairest of Columbia's daughters, 
 
 O'er his locks of silver, crown John Gray. 
 
60 
 
 Slaves uf self and serf's ut' vain uiuhition, — 
 
 Toilful strivers of the city's mart, 
 Turn awhile, and bless the sweet transition, 
 
 Unto scenes that soothe the careworn heart : 
 Turn with me, to ^^onder moss thatched dwelling, 
 
 Wreathed in woodbine and the wild-rose spray ; 
 While the muse his simple tale is telling', 
 
 Tottering on his crutches, see John Grav. 
 
 When defeat had pressed his bitter chalice 
 
 To the lips of England's haughty lord,- — 
 Bowed in shame the brow of stern Coruwallis, 
 
 And at Yorktown claimed his blood}- sword : 
 At the crowning of the seige laborious — 
 
 At the triumj)h of the glorious day. 
 Near his chieftain, in the ranks victorious, 
 
 Stood the youthful soldier, brave John Gray. 
 
 While he vowed through peace their love should burn ou- 
 
 While he bade his tearful troops farewell. 
 One alone unto thy shades. Mount Vernon, 
 
 Called the Chieftain with himself, to dwell. 
 Proud to serve the Father of the Nation, 
 
 Glad to hear the voice that bade him stay, 
 Year by year upon the broad jilantation. 
 
 Unto ripened manhood, toiled John Gray. 
 
 Sowed and reaped and gathered to the garner 
 
 All the Summer plenty's golden sheares, — 
 Sowed and reaped, till Time the ruthless warner 
 
 Whispered through the dreary autumn leaves : 
 " Wherefore tarry V Freedom's skies are o'er tiiee ; 
 
 Winter frowneth ere the blush of May : 
 Lo ! Is not a goodly land before thee? 
 
 Up! and choose thee now a lionie, John Gra^-." 
 
 III. 
 
 Thus he heard the words of duty's warning. 
 
 And he saw the rising Empire-star 
 Dawning dimly on the nation's morning — 
 
 Guiding westward Emigration's car : 
 Heard and saw and quickly rose to follow, 
 
 Hore his rilie for the savage Jirey, 
 B(»i(' iiis axe, that soon in greenwood hollow 
 
 Timed thy .sylvan ballads, bold John Gray. 
 
 BU'Ssed with love, his lonely laljors cheering, 
 
 Blithe the hearthstones of that forest nook, 
 Where arose his cabin in the " clearing," 
 
 Near the meadow with its purling brook : 
 Where his children from their noonday laughter 
 
 Turned at eve and left their joyous play, 
 Hushed and still, when lh(> great hereafter 
 
 Spake the Christian father, meek John Gray. 
 
61 
 
 IV. 
 
 (111. tlio ycMis (if iniii;;l('(l Jiiy ;iiiil .';.-i(llir.';.^ 1 
 
 Oil, llic liour.s — till' coiiiilics.s Imur.s (if toil, 
 Sliarcd alike tlirouj;h .sorrow ami throtif^'h <;la(lncss 
 
 l?y loved liands now inoiilderiii},' \n the j;uil ; 
 Oil, the iinguish stifled in the shadow 
 
 Of the f^lootu that bore her form away I 
 'Xeath yoii mound she slumbers in the meadow, 
 
 Waiting:, uieekly waiting; thee, John (iray. 
 
 All day long u[)on the threshold sitting. 
 
 Where the sunbeams tliroug:li the briglii leavns .sliiiic- 
 Where the zephyrs, throun;h his white loeks flittitii.'-, 
 
 Softly whispers of " the days lang syne." 
 How he loves on holy thoughts to ponder; 
 
 How his eyes the azure heaven survey. 
 Or toward yon nu'adow dimly wander^ — 
 
 Yes, besich- her thou shalt sleep, Jolui Gray ! 
 
 In the tomb thy eomrades' bodies slumber, — 
 
 Unto heaven their souls have fiown before ; 
 Only one is " missing " of their number, — 
 
 Only one to win the radiant shore : — 
 Only one to join the saered chorus, — 
 
 Only one to luirst the bounds of clay : 
 Soon the sentry's triimi)et sounding o'er us. 
 
 To their ranks shall summon thee, John Gray. 
 
 Peace be with thee — gentle spirits guard thee, 
 
 Noble type of heroes now no more ! 
 In thine age may gratitude reward thee, 
 
 In thy need may bounty bless th^^ store ; 
 Care of woman, gentle, true, and tender. 
 
 Strength of manhood be thy guide and stay ; 
 Let not those who roll in idle s[)lendor. 
 
 To their shame, forget thee, lone John (iray. 
 
 Five-score winters on thy head have wiiitened — 
 
 Five-score summers o'er thy brow have passed; 
 All the sunshine that thy pathway brightened. 
 
 Clouds of want and care have overcast. 
 Thus the last of those who won our glory, 
 
 Lonely traveller of the weary way. 
 Poor, unknown, unnamed in song or story, 
 
 In his western cabin, lives John Gray. 
 
 WiL.Mi.NGTo.N, Del., Scjit. 11, 18G7. 
 
WASHINGTON AND GRANT. 
 
 A Birth-day Ode, delivered before the Irving Lyceum, at City 
 Hall, Washington, D. C, February 22, 1868, by James M. Dal- 
 zell, a member of the Lyceum : 
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 Ve spirits that around the Rocky ruoiintaiiis roam, 
 
 And on the Blue Ridge summits rear your cloufly dome, 
 
 Or in tlie deepest shades of western forests keep. 
 
 Or rock the storms upon " the cradle of the deep ;" 
 
 Ve genii dwelling in the cis-Atlantic caves, 
 
 Or waving golden banners o'er Pacific's waves, 
 
 Or singing down the Mississippi's silver line, 
 
 Or musing sweetly where the great lakes' waters shine ; 
 
 Ve children of the far jirairie's tioral plain, 
 
 Where Beauty, iMirth, and Harmony forever reign^ 
 
 Ye guardian angels of my dear, my native land, 
 
 Some noble inspiration give — 0, guide this trembling hand. 
 
 On this the natal day of him whose valor won 
 
 Our Freedom — this the natal day of Wnshington. 
 
 ' PROEiM. 
 
 Washington ! a name familiar to us all 
 As that our mother called us by ; a name 
 As oft repeated 'round the family hearth 
 As that of mother, home, and heaven. 
 Washington ! familiar is the grand old name. 
 The sweetest name the world hath learned, and still 
 Wherever floats fair freedom's flag there swells 
 From ])atriot tongues the name of Washington. 
 The child just risen from it's mother's knee, 
 And standing first upon the sacred soil, 
 First learns to lisp with reverent awe 
 The awful Name above all names — and then 
 The next name learned is that of Washington. 
 , The old man, folding up his meek ])ale hands. 
 
 And making ready for the sleep of Death, 
 In acceats trembling with his dying breath, 
 His weeping children bids to serve the I.ord, 
 And still l)e true to that bright banner 
 Which first became the cherished symbol of 
 A people's freedom in the hands of Washington. 
 In every cabin in the western wilds. 
 In every palace in the eastern world — 
 By every tongue, in every land beneath the sun. 
 Where human hearts are fond of liberty, 
 Evermore resounds the name of Washington. 
 Familiar as the name is grown to men, 
 They love to hear it sounding yet, and still 
 As ages pass, and kingdoms fall, and right prevails. 
 And nations grow more free, and ju'oud, and glad, 
 The airs of freedom to the echoes joined 
 Will cover all the earth with one sweet sound 
 In harmonies combined, repeating Washingtt)ii. 
 'Tis fitting, then, that we, on this his natal day, 
 Should celebrate the birth of Washington. 
 Recalling what he did and dared for us 
 
63 
 
 And all the heirs of that liriglit hpiitage 
 Carved (Voni desjiot hands liy his hrif^ht sword, 
 'Tis (itliMf; tluit wc- here reeall his virtues, 
 And record, though with imperfeet lunse, 
 Our love for our own Washington. 
 0. come, 
 Ve lofty spirits from the fields of sonjr. 
 In all your " sing^in^ robes" and flowinj^ trains, 
 And voices chanting out melodeous verse, 
 And us inspire with fitting thought, and words 
 Aglow jvitli some of that seraphic fire 
 Which made such glowing harmony on the lips 
 Of Otis, Henry, Adams, Jefferson, 
 When they with fervent praise of Washington, 
 With kindling ekxiuence, in Freedom's name 
 Proclaimed him leader of^ their glorious cause. 
 And there is one, another Wasliington, 
 Whose fame with his the hands of fate iiave joir.ed, 
 And while the nanu; of Washington is named 
 Hy patriot tongues, another mighty name 
 Siiall ring with gramleur thro' our fair doniiiin : 
 .Vnd Freedom's sons can ne'er forget the chief 
 Who saved the flag from rebel hands, and now 
 Is still defending with a hero's might 
 The flag of Washington, of you and me. 
 Need I rejieat in bliml and staggering verse. 
 And accents rude, and numbers illy tuned 
 TLat chieftain's name which echoes now 
 la verse and prose throughout the land ! 
 Need my imi)erf'ect muse repeat the name 
 Of himWlio flung our banner to the breeze of War, 
 And by it stood through all the fiery storm, 
 Thundering with the might of Jove at Treason's gates 
 Far down the iMi.ssi.-;sip|)i's bloody stream; 
 Or turning to the Fast when Vicksburg fell. 
 To drive the traitor from his last foul den. 
 And wrest the l)loody sword from Traitor hands 
 At Appamatto.x, and so close the wnr ! 
 Ah, no ; that name is written in tlic nation's heart. 
 That name is sacred to tlu' army yet. 
 And Freedom stands with V'ictory now. 
 And, smiling, both are crowning him with fame, 
 And all the loyal land repeat Grant's name. 
 
 FIRST IN WAIt. 
 
 Foremost among the mighty names that make 
 
 The times of Revolution brilliant yet, 
 
 Chief of all that patriot host that won 
 
 For us our freedom, and our glorious flag. 
 
 " First in War," the lirightest sjjirit of them all — 
 
 Behold the Chieftain, Washington ; 
 
 A man rot moulded in a lordly hall. 
 
 Nor reared in splendor near a kingly throne, 
 
 Nor taught to jabber in a classic shade, 
 
 Nor trained for War by printed rules: 
 
 But in the wilderness of tiiis far lan<l. 
 
 Born and nurtured in the plainest scenes 
 
 That plain and rugged Nature can provide, 
 
 To manly indeiiendence eve»y thought attuned, 
 
 And every act conformed to Nature's plan. 
 
 And all the man controlled by love of Right, 
 
 His great heart full of love to God, and man. 
 
 He grew up strong in body, strong in mind. 
 
 In ])urpose strong, and armed with right, 
 
64 
 
 Go'l anil the jicoiile huldin;^ \i\i liis liaiiilr.. 
 Aiui ^uiiliiit;' and siipiiortinj^ him Ihroiif,^! all. 
 Ik' took the Army, and A'ictury loved 
 To leave the tyrant and to come to him. 
 
 FIRST IN PEACE. 
 
 And when the war-clouds rolled away, 
 
 And all the Nation's sky \vas bright with I'eace, 
 
 He, the "First in War," the con([uerinji; eliicl', 
 
 The lirave, resistless General liecame 
 
 Ai;ain the First, the "First in Peace, ' * 
 
 And at the Nation's helm, in Peaee again, 
 
 Saul-like, with head and shoulders over all, 
 
 Tiie grandest, greatest President ho stood. 
 
 And words of wisdom from the cherished chief 
 
 .Still guided our young nation's early ])hins, 
 
 And every danger he foresaw and turned 
 
 The Ship of State around ere she had touched 
 
 The rocks of discord lying near. 
 
 His Farewell to the people whom he loved, 
 
 His Farewell words still linger yet, and oft 
 
 With tender memories rushing though the mind 
 
 Do millions read those Farewell words — ■ 
 
 Words of counsel caught from heaven, 
 
 Words of hope and words of cheer. 
 
 The last words of the great immortal chief, 
 
 WMiile Americans still love the land he loved, 
 
 And still revere the Hag to him so dear. 
 
 Will his words linger in the people's hearts, 
 
 And guide the people's hands, and keep 
 
 Still sacred and secure, the liberties 
 
 Wrung for us from tyrants' hands. 
 
 And first made safe by Washington. 
 
 FIRST IN THE HEARTS OF HIS COUNTRYMEN. 
 
 Millions have lived and died since the tomb 
 
 Closed first upon the corpse of Washington. 
 
 That corpse in marble wastes, and dries to common dust, 
 
 .And ashes now are all we have of Washington. 
 
 Though he is dead and gone to the dust, 
 
 His spirit lives, and breathes in all our laws. 
 
 And is the talismanic Word that makes these States 
 
 In harmony and Union ever one. 
 
 The Declaration, Constitution, Laws, 
 
 The Union, Flag, and Nation's Arms, 
 
 Are bound in volumes with a golden thread 
 
 That reaches through the people's hearts, 
 
 Is fastened to the throne of God, and runs 
 
 All through the frame of Washington. 
 
 Let marble blush if it would tell 
 
 How dear is Washington to every heart : 
 
 His memory is not encased in stolid stone. 
 
 Nor j)ent up in your marble monument — 
 
 It lives in living men, and every tide 
 
 Of warm life-blood in every heart 
 
 Still murmurs sweetly as it courses on. 
 
 And all its crimson streams are vocal 
 
 With the praise of Washington. 
 
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