Hood's army speak for him. Of all that magnificent army that defended Atlanta, and later marched to Franklin and Nashville, scarcely five thousand ever again came together. We have the testimony of the Memoirs that Thomas's movements were always "" so deliberate and so slow, though effective in defence." The enemy can bear witness to the rest.

The Memoirs were written under the stress of personal financial embarrassments, and amidst the shadows of impending death. They are the recollections of a dying man. There was no time for searching records or gathering data; and we all know what a treacherous thing is memory after the lapse of twenty years. The marvel is, not that they contain mistakes, but that there are so few. If, in the light of the records, which the author of those Memoirs had no time to consult, we can point out errors, we would not do it in a spirit of hostility to him, we would not do it in a spirit of controversy or unkindness, but merely that others may not suffer from statements whose only value comes from the prestige of his great name. With the name of Grant are associated the proudest recollections of the war. On his head rests, as a halo, the wreath of well-earned victory. With entire loyalty to him, without detracting one iota from his great fame, we would defend the memory of him whom we trusted as a leader and loved as a father, General George H. Thomas. In the religion of Rome there was room for all the gods of every conquered province. In the American heart there is a place for all its honored names.

Before closing, permit me to add a few words more, not in further defence of General Thomas, but that, through the mists of a quarter of a century, we may catch glimpses of the greatness of his services and of the nobility of his character.

When the war began, he was one of a remarkable group of men, constituting the field officers of the Second United States Cavalry, - Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston, Lieu

tenant-Colonel Robert E. Lee, and Majors Hardee and Thomas. He was forty-five years of age, and so in the full vigor of life. A born soldier, a graduate of West Point, and a veteran of twenty years of active service, he was thoroughly equipped for the impending conflict. It is not necessary to follow him through all the trying events of that great struggle. His is the history of the Army of the Ohio and the Cumberland. He organized and commanded the force that won our first important victory at Mill Spring; and three years later, at Nashville, he destroyed the last armed opposition in the West. During those three years, men came and went, fields were lost and won, but he was always on duty, never made a mistake, and "so ordered his command as to retrieve it from the mistakes of others." He never sought a command and never shrank from responsibilities. He had confidence in himself, in his plans, and in his men. He was a believer in organization and preparation. He had that foresight which prepares for emergencies. He had the military instinct to discern the weakness of an enemy, and to tell him when and where and how to strike. was never unduly elated or depressed. His fixity of purpose and unbending will were stamped upon every line of his face. "We will hold the place until we starve," was his telegram from Chattanooga to Grant at Louisville. And yet this stern man of duty, who rarely smiled, was genial and humane, and from his great kindness of heart, from his ever-watchful care, was known to all his "boys" as "Pap" Thomas. Growing in strength as his burdens increased, he was at the close of the war everywhere recognized as one of our four great commanders. He was not ambitious. When ordered to relieve General Buell, he asked to have the order suspended; when urged to be a candidate for President, he refused. He never complained. To officers who were overlooked in the organization of new regiments in the regular army, he said: "I have taken great pains to educate myself not to feel ;" and

He

though his sensitive soul must have often suffered from injustice and neglect, he was as silent then as now. He served without a murmur under General Rosecrans, his junior, and gave to him the most loyal support. He never boasted; nor was he jealous of the success of others. He never asked a favor for himself, and he never lobbied for himself or friends. He declined a sum of money about to be raised for him by friends in Cincinnati, and proposed that it be given to the widows and orphans of soldiers. He was not a member of any church, but from his Welsh father and Huguenot mother he inherited the firm belief in an overruling Providence, and in those great truths of Christianity that underlie all the churches. He enjoyed stories; and, if of the proper kind, would listen to them for hours; but he rarely told one. In his thoughts and actions he was as pure and modest as a girl. This commander, so great in his simple modesty, so great in his honesty and humanity, so great in all the elements of a successful soldier, was great also in his loyalty. Born in Virginia, he was one of the few officers of the regular army from the South who remained true to the Union. What it cost him cannot be measured by our poor experiences. To him it meant the sacrifice of the associations of a lifetime, of the ties of kindred and of home; and to this day he is throughout the South regarded as a traitor to his State. For this, if for no other reason, his name should be remembered lovingly to the latest generations.

In June, 1869, General Thomas arrived in San Francisco and took command of the Department of the Pacific. It was his last assignment. On March 28, 1870, at noon, he was attacked, while in his office, with fainting; he was not conscious after three o'clock, and at 7.15 P. M. he died. His body was borne by loving hands across a continent to Troy, N. Y., where, eighteen years before, he had been married; and on April 8, under bright skies and amidst the newly awakening life of spring, he was forever laid at rest.

Standing on the Pacific's shore and looking out through the Golden Gate to the West, we see again the East. We look across an ocean where the new and the old come together, where the days with the meridians meet, where time and eternity seem one, on its ever changing, ever changeless waters. From that shore, on that March evening eighteen years ago, the spirit of our old Commander passed through other golden gates to other shores, where, on the peaceful waters of God's eternal love, all things are ever new, the days are a perpetual morning, and time and its mutations are unknown.

THE SOLDIER'S PLACE IN CIVILIZATION.

A

BY FRANCIS A. RIDDLE.

[Read April 11, 1889.]

STUDY of military events, the consideration of the causes and consequences of war, of the services and fortunes of heroes, the vicissitudes and victories of armies, the results of battles, and the successes, achievements, and fate of great captains, these have been, in all ages, subjects of supreme fascination to men of all classes, creeds, and conditions.

The principle of war is inborn in man. It lurks with sleepless rancor in the evil nature and destructive tendencies of the human heart. Its form is evoked and its terrible forces set in motion by the most dreadful necessities of human society. It is a storm-cloud forever rising and never completely dispelled. The spirit of peace may hover timidly in the distance, but the form of war is always near. War is the dark background of all the human passions. It fascinates, it appalls, it destroys; and civilization has never yet found a charm to repress its terror nor to obviate its necessity. It enlists in its service the best and the meanest; it recruits its ranks. from the bravest and the noblest of earth, and in its pitiless sway immolates upon its altar the good and the bad, and sacrifices without a shudder the guilty and the innocent alike.

The spirit of war originates in sin. It feeds on hate, fattens on revenge, rejoices in cruelty, exults in ferocity, triumphs through oppression, outrages justice, reviles truth, stamps out generosity, and revels in villany.