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bearers shot down, one after the other. As each one fell another would spring unhesitatingly into his place and grasp the flag before it could reach the ground.

The soldiers were on the point of retreating before the fierce rain of bullets, and as the fifth flag-bearer fell mortally wounded the captain of the company seized the flag from his dying comrade, mounted a stump, and there held the starry banner aloft, waving it and cheering the boys on. At sight of Old Glory the troops rallied and fought with renewed courage.

Major Friedly said he remembered distinctly at this same battle, that as the boys slowly advanced to the firing line, those of them who were addicted to card-playing, began to search their pockets for their card-decks and away they went as far as they could be thrown.

The little pocket Bible which mother had given, came out in their stead, and the boys hunted frantically for some comforting passages to read as they awaited orders of "forward march" to almost sure death. Not many soldier boys wanted to be found with a deck of cards on his dead body. I was told by one of the Executive Committee of the National Association of Civil War Musicians, that out of the eightyseven members of their fife and drum corps who were in attendance here, that there were only two who were to any extent addicted to the use of liquor. This is in marked contrast to some of the other visiting brass bands made up of young men of this generation.

One old gentleman, a fife major of his regiment, told me that he was nearly seventy-five years old, and had never in his life even tasted liquor in any form. He said he

knew of many others of the organization who could say practically the same thing. A pretty good record I call it, for men who have seen years of active life as soldiers, amid all sorts of trying and terrible experiences and situations. It only goes to support the assertion that the Civil War called out the very best men of our nation to defend its honor.

I noticed with a great degree of satisfaction that there were very few of the veterans who appeared at any time to be under the influence of liquor. This fact was generally noticed and commented upon. I have been associated with the work of the Grand Army, and with the veterans themselves, all my life. I know them and their worth as citizens. I know how true and loyal the majority of them are, and I cannot remember the time when my heart did not thrill with pride to know that my father was one of these loyal defenders of the nation. And I feel that as long as one of the old guard is left the sacred heritage of the nation, just so long should we strive to honor them and to show by word and deed that we appreciate the great privileges they won for us at such a terrible cost to themselves.

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We realize more and more their worthy service, and know that without it, we would not now be enjoying the inestimable privileges which are ours today.

One could not look with dry eyes on that magnificent parade of gray haired veterans.. Strong men wept unashamed at sight of those old heroes with their bent forms and whitened locks. Their steps were faltering, their eyes dimmed by time, and yet their worn faces were lighted up by the fires of un

dying patriotism. The dimmed eyes grew bright as they rested for a moment on the dear flag which they had given some of the best years of their youth to save.

At sound of the old fife and drum that had cheered them along many miles of weary marching in the old days, their steps grew firmer, their bearing more erect as they strove to march as proudly as ever to the tune of "The Girl I Left Behind Me."

The lesson of their service was written in their glorified countenances, and every patriotic heart could not fail to read the message. One realized with a pang of sadness, that that parade was the last for many of them. That next year would see fewer of the old bovs there. The veterans themselves realized it. Many were heard to remark "I never hope to parade again." Relentless time is thinning the ranks. One by one they are answering the call of the Great Commander. One by one they fail to respond to the revielle. Taps are sounded above them, and life's battles for them are ended: peace comes to the soldiers' weary heart. A few years more and the last member of the G. A. R. will have received his final marching orders; will have gone to witness the last grand review. This will mean the end of the organization of the Grand Army of the Republic, but not the end of the great work it has accomplished. The influence of the lives and sacrifices of these men will not die, but will live on and on to bless and strengthen all those who shall come after.

At Saltair I gave an impromptu concert to a large number of old veterans and their friends. After several patriotic songs which met with a hearty response from the old. soldiers, a tall old man in a gray

uniform came up to me and expressed his pleasure at hearing me sing. Then he put out his hand and asked if I would shake hands with an old "Johnnie Reb.". told him "Yes" and that I supposed my father had fired a few Yankee bullets at him in war days. He replied, "Wall I 'spect he did, but I reckon I fired a few back at him, and I'm powerful glad they didn't kill him, or I'd never have heard you sing, 'The Flag Without a Stain,' and that's my flag now."

It has always been a great pleasure to sing "Annie Laurie" but there is a new interest in it since hearing one of the veterans tell of his experience with it during the war. It was at the Siege of Vicksburg, one night a little after midnight. A soldier lay dying in a trench and he began to sing "For my bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and die." His feeble voice was reinforced by another comrade close at hand. Soon another and still another took it up, until the whole Company made the echoes. ring with the beautiful o melody. Any veteran who was with the 130 Illinois Volunteers will remember the occasion.

Now when it is sung, a mental picture can easily be drawn of that night when our boys were lying out there in the darkness. Some of them wounded and dying, others knowing full well that on the morrow they too would be lying in unmarked graves. Yet there they were, singing, in the very face of death. Men who can sing under such circumstances are worth while. There is no doubt that the old soldiers as a rule are given a love and reverence that no other group of men in the whole nation receive. Yet there are a few of the thoughtless and ignorant who sneer at the homage paid these veterans. I heard

one woman say, "Oh, to hear these old men talk, you'd think they were all great heroes and that the victories of the war depended upon them individually!" And she in her foolish sneering spoke the truth. She sounded the key note of the situation, for the victorious ending of the War did depend upon each one individually. If each one had "individually" taken to his heels and run off with a coward's spirit to seek the shelter of his dishonored home, where would the army as a whole have been? Scattered to the four winds of heaven. Sherman's victorious march to the sea would never have been undertaken or accomplished by General Sherman alone. Grant could not have marched alone up to Appomatox and demanded the unconditional surrender of Lee and his troops. No indeed! It was the men we have entertained here this last month, who made such glorious deeds possible. A man who stood the terrible test of that Civil War without deserting or turning traitor to the cause is worthy of our serious consideration to say the least. If he never did another earthly bit of good in the world but that he is a Hero with a great big H, and he will get a hero's reward.

One of the old Army nurses remarked as she saw the Salt Lake High School Cadets marching along in the parade,

"If you want to know how our boys of '61 looked as they marched off to the war, look at those cadets. Most of them were just about that age and many of them not a blessed bit bigger. Now look at those same 'boys' in comparison."

It is stated on good authority that fifty per cent of the boys of '61 were under twenty-one years

of age. Think of it! It's a wonder they didn't all run home to their anxious mothers, when the bullets began to fly. But they didn't. They were made of better material than that, and so they remained at their post of duty until peace was declared. One cannot help feeling the greatest contempt for the individual who selfishly enjoys the privileges of citizenship, good government, and the dearly bought blessings of liberty, and yet who fails to appreciate the sacrifices of the men who gave us all these things. A man without patriotism is in the same category as the man "who hath no music in him." He is indeed only fit for "treasons strategems and spoils." A nation without patriotism cannot endure. Neither can the individual live without it except in a very narrow and unprogressive sense. And I think that one of the greatest benefits to be derived by the country at large through these annual G. A. R. Encampments is from the fact that they do not fail to create and revive the spirit of patriotism among many who may be inclined to forget that all we are enjoying as American citizens we owe to those who gave their lives and their best years to the preservation of the Union. Through associating even for a short time with these real patriots who actually saved our country from ignominy and dishonor, through hearing from their own lips the stories of their bitter hardships, their terrible prison experiences, their days and nights of weary marching and desperate fighting, and their ultimate glorious victories, we are brought to more fully realize our obligation to all those who have given us this great heritage of liberty.

Veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Ruth May Fox.

Seamed and marred in the struggle of life
Scarred with the wounds of a Nation's strife,
Worn by the marching to drum and fife,
Veterans, we greet you.

Stalwarts, you came at your country's call;
Little cared you for powder and ball,
Each by your colors to stand or fall,
Soldiers, we cheer you.

For the pains you've borne, and tears you've shed
Solemnly bowed o'er the nation's dead,
For freedom' cause in which you bled,
Heroes, we hail you.

For the broken homes, and widows' cries,
Which vexed the earth, and pierced the skies;
For mouldering heaps, where devotion lies,
Utah mourns with you.

For your battles lost or battles won,-
A Gettesburg, or a dark Bull-Run,
For Sherman, Grant, and revered Lincoln,
Utah salutes you.

Her once barren vales, bloom now for you,
She bids you tent 'neath her spangled blue,
And drink from streams, which ever renew
From life-giving fountains,—

Forth gushing from mighty, hoary peaks,
Where snow-drifts nestle, and thunder speaks,
Where the lofty pine-top sways and creaks,
In the fresh'ning breeze.

Her wonderful inland sea awaits
Your presence at our western gates,
Where the sun shines through and varigates
The billowy sky,-

Casting a shimmering trail of gold
With which to crown our warriors bold,
She glints for you the lake and wold,
While the wavelets sing.

Peace broods over your columns today,
Floats with your flag to lands far away.
Our flag, which floats for blue and for gray,
And liberty true.

Your glorious wreathes shall never fade
While mountains tower above the glade,
Or rain descends on flower and blade,
Or the stars endure.

You saved the Union, by God's grace,
And caught the radiance from His face
In the starry folds, which holds the race
To glory in Old Glory.

Martin Luther's Love for Children.

Levi Edgar Young.

One of the most pleasing phases of the life of Martin Luther was his marriage, in 1525, to Katherine von Bora. Luther had already renounced the Church of Rome and the infallibility of the pope, and was in the midst of great discussions and politico-social disputes, when he stopped long enough to fall in love and to renounce forever his former vows of celibacy. He had been educated in a monastery of the Augustinian monks and the University of Erfurt, and had taken those VOWS which would have isolated him forever from the world had he lived up to them. When the time came as it did in the early part of the sixteenth century for him to begin his fight against the Church of Rome, and to write his celebrated lectures on religion and philosophy, he renounced the idea of asceticism, and having helped to abduct eight girls from a nunnery in Saxony, Luther fell in love with one of them and married her. This was Catherine von Bora. She was a beautiful woman, and well educated. There is a picture of her painted by Cranach, in the Gallery at Dresden which is remarkable for its portrayal of Catherine's character. She loved Luther with an intense devotion, and made him a devoted wife and housekeeper.

After their marriage, they lived at Wittenberg. Luther continued his lectures at the University where he had at first taken up the cudgels against the church. In 1520, the peasants' revolt broke out, and Germany found herself in the throes of civil war. Luther did all he could to

appease the people in their madness, for madness it was. The people had become divided religiouly, and religious wars are among the worst of all history. He traveled much from place to place defending doctrines, but in the midst of all his work, he was a devoted husband and a thoughtful father.

Luther's and Catherine's firstborn was called Hanschen. In the year 1530, while the father was at Coburg visiting friends and trying to appease the peasantry of that part of Germany, he wrote a letter to his boy, which for tenderness and exquisite beauty, is hardly surpassed by anything else of its kind in history. It shows that the great reformer was able to adapt his thoughts and language. to all classes and conditions of people. The letter reads as follows:*

"My Dear Hanschen: Grace and peace in Christ, my darling little son. I am glad to see that you study and play hard. Continue to do so, my little boy, and when I come home, I will bring with me some fine things for you. I know of a beautiful and pleasant garden, where many children with little golden coats go, and gather from the trees fine apples, pears, berries, and plums. They sing and play and are happy all the time. They have pretty little horses, with golden bits and silver saddles. I asked the owner of the garden whose children these were. He replied: 'They are the children who love to pray and to learn and to be od.' I then said: 'Dear

*Whether or not this letter has been translated into Engilsh before, I cannot say. I have kept close to the original text in translating, though at times the translation is rather free for the sake of good English.

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