ul tomb stands on the heights over the Hudson.

I remember an incident that will illustrate this, the only one that I
can give to-night. I am ashamed of it, but I don't dare leave it out. I
close my eyes now; I look back through the years to 1863; I can see my
native town in the Berkshire Hills, I can see that cattle-show ground
filled with people; I can see the church there and the town hall
crowded, and hear bands playing, and see flags flying and handkerchiefs
streaming--well do I recall at this moment that day. The people had
turned out to receive a company of soldiers, and that company came
marching up on the Common. They had served out one term in the Civil War
and had reenlisted, and they were being received by their native
townsmen. I was but a boy, but I was captain of that company, puffed out
with pride on that day--why, a cambric needle would have burst me all to
pieces. As I marched on the Common at the head of my company, there was
not a man more proud than I. We marched into the town hall and then they
seated my soldiers down in the center of the house and I took my place
down on the front seat, and then the town officers filed through the
great throng of people, who stood close and packed in that little hall.
They came up on the platform, formed a half circle around it, and the
mayor of the town, the "chairman of the Selectmen" in New England, took
his seat in the middle of that half circle. He was an old man, his hair
was gray; he never held an office before in his life. He thought that an
office was all he needed to be a truly great man, and when he came up he
adjusted his powerful spectacles and glanced calmly around the audience
with amazing dignity. Suddenly his eyes fell upon me, and then the good
old man came right forward and invited me to come up on the stand with
the town officers. Invited me up on the stand! No town officer ever took
notice of me before I went to war. Now, I should not say that. One town
officer was there who advised the teacher to "whale" me, but I mean no
"honorable mention." So I was invited up on the stand with the town
officers. I took my seat and let my sword fall on the floor, and folded
my arms across my breast and waited to be received. Napoleon the Fifth!
Pride goeth before destruction and a fall. When I had gotten my seat and
all became silent through the hall, the chairman of the Selectmen arose
and came forward with great dignity to the table, and we all supposed he