," when even the mournful voices of the bells were
silenced?

Viewed in the glorious light of to-day, how like a prophecy fulfilled
appear the beautiful lines of Father Ryan,--

"There's a grandeur in graves, there's a glory in gloom,
For out of the gloom future brightness is born,
As after the night looms the sunrise of morn,
And the graves of the dead, with grass overgrown,
May yet form the footstool of Liberty's throne."

Years of bitter strife have left sad traces all over this beautiful
Southland. In lovely valleys, upon every hillside, in the majestic
forests, lie, side by side, the Gray and the Blue. The sun clothes
every mound with equal glory, the sky weeps over all alike. Standing
beside these graves, angry passions die in the hearts of brave men;
"one touch of nature" moistens manly eyes, softens obdurate hearts.
Involuntarily hands meet in a firmer clasp, which expresses respect as
well as sympathy.

The soldiers on both sides have learned to appreciate and understand
each other, so, in spite of those who would fain prolong the strife,
the long-oppressed people of the South are free to mourn their dead,
and

"The graves of the dead, with grass overgrown,"

indeed

"Form a footstool for Liberty's throne."

To-day the veterans who met and fiercely battled at Shiloh unite in
doing honor to the memory of General Johnston and of the men who, with
him, won immortality upon that bloody field.

To-day imperishable laurels bloom afresh upon the upturned brows of
the men who hail with loud acclaim the image of their chieftain placed
here to guard forever

"War's richest spoil,--the ashes of the dead."

It is fitting that, on this day of memory, rich strains of martial
music should awaken long-silent echoes in this city of the
dead,--fitting that nature should be despoiled of her floral treasures
to deck this sacred place which, indeed, is "not so much the _tomb_ of
virtue as its shrine."

The flowers that yield their beauty and fragrance to grace this scene
will fade and die. Yon radiant sun will set, but not before it has
burned an indelible record upon the young hearts of thousands to whom,
ere long, we must trust this precious spot.

Of the remnant of the once magnificent Army of Tennessee gathered here
it will soon be said,--

"On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread."

But the figure of their chieftain will be left to tell the story of a
patriotic