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night. But, thanks to the good God above us, to us again appears and smiles the gentle moon, and again beam the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

In mourning now for him who has joined the throng who have gone before and are for a time lost to us in the mysterious abodes beyond our mortal sight, we must not grieve as those who are without hope. Certainly we should not be anxious about him whose Christian life was an illustrious example for right living. He has passed over the dark river which separates us from the heavenly country. He is only a little in advance and awaits our coming to join him as we enter into the unfathomed mysteries of eternity.

As one grows older and begins the descent toward the evening of life he comes to feel how little, after all, is the value of this brief span of life. We come, we tarry just a little while, and depart. The pleasures of living, the transitory joys of existence, thrilling and intense as they sometimes seem, are of little permanent value; the true worth of life is to be found in the opportunity it gives for the formation of character. The character which is formed by the experiences of our earthly existence, whether brief or long, makes us, after all, what we are, and alone goes on with us to the life beyond, thus making life worth the living, for it makes desirable immortality, which is the inalienable and indestructible birthright of every human soul.

If, then, our philosophy is correct, we ought not to mourn the loss of our friend. He lived long enough to form a noble, Christian character, fitting him for better than earthly service. He has gone a little before at his Master's call, to do his Master's service in a happier sphere, with clearer vision, with higher freedom and purer affections. What lesson, then, is there in this death and this memorial service for us who for

a little time survive? Can it not be found in heeding the injunction:

So live, that when thy sunimons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

ADDRESS OF MR. CALDERHEAD, OF KANSAS. Mr. SPEAKER: I do not rise for the purpose of making any extended eulogy upon my dead comrade, whose memory we honor to-day, but rise more for the purpose of extending my thanks to his colleagues who have already addressed the House in this connection, and who have presented the high character of the man, and his capacity and ability on the floor of the House and in connection with public affairs. Most of them knew him longer and more intimately than I. Most of them had a personal acquaintance with him better than mine, but I counted as one of the special privileges of my life the fact that I became acquainted with him and appreciated him as such a man must be appreciated by all those who know him.

When I was elected a member of the Fifty-fourth Congress I came to Washington about the conclusion of the preceding session of the Fifty-third Congress for the purpose of making the acquaintance of the members and familiarizing myself with the business of Congress. Mr. BROSIUS was the first member whose acquaintance I formed. We recognized each other as comrades by the button that we wore—the badge of the Grand Army. He asked my name and gave me his name and our acquaintance began. During my service in that Congress and afterwards I became intimately acquainted with him. He was my personal friend, and we served together upon the same committee. It is true that at times we differed as to the work of the committee. I remember well one case where we differed materially. I objected to a proposition pending in the committee which was advocated by him, upon which he had spent much labor. I joined with others who opposed the measure and endeavored to prevent it. I thought it likely that he would perhaps administer some rebuke or make some suggestion of the feeling that he entertained in reference to the matter when I afterwards met him. But instead of that there was the same kindly smile upon his face, the same warm hand was extended to me, and there was an assurance in his every act of the kindly feeling which had always animated him toward me.

And again, Mr. Speaker, long afterwards, after our acquaintance had ripened, and in another Congress, when I shook hands with him here in the Hall, a shadow of pain passed over his face, and I found that he was suffering from an injury which he had received during the war. He said: “My lame arm pains me greatly." I said: “Where were you wounded?'' I intended to inquire at what battle. He put the other hand upon his shoulder and said: “I have lost this shoulder joint and it pains me severely this morning.” We walked out in the corridor and had a little conversation about the place where it occurred, about the time when it happened, about his age and mine during the days of the great rebellion, and about the battle for the life of the nation, and I think he never spoke of his wound again. But I began to realize that it was something in connection with that wound that had made him so gentle and patient. It was something that had put him on guard against the passions of life; and recently, since this memorial day was appointed, I have endeavored to make some further inquiry concerning his service and the action in which he was wounded.

Nearly all the facts of his ancestry and of his own boyhood life that are known have been detailed to you by those who were acquainted with him and who had better sources of knowledge than I have; yet in my inquiry I found that the charge in which he was wounded was one of the most heroic of all the great charges that were made in the battle—the preservation of the life of the nation. More than once I have attempted to recite to my comrades some description of the charge of the First Minnesota Regiment at Gettysburg, when it was sent out for only about 250 yards with 287 men, and in a few short minutes left all but 34 of them strewn upon the ground. I have considered it one of the most costly charges ever made by a regiment of men. I found on investigating the charge in which my comrade was wounded at Green Plains that his regiment, a little less than 300 men, were ordered into a charge upon Pickett's division, consisting of 2,000 men, with less than 400 yards of ground to pass over.

By somebody's blunder they were not supported either by artillery or by flanking regiments. During the charge seven color bearers were shot down and the eighth one came back with the staff in two pieces and the flag riddled by over a hundred rebel bullets. They passed nearly to the rebel lines before the bugle sounded their recall. At that moment a minie ball struck MARRIOTT BROSIUS square in the breast and lodged in a little leather-covered diary in his breast pocket. As they turned to come back a wounded boy fell at his feet. He stooped to pick up the boy to carry him off, when another ball crashed through his shoulder and he fell. He was carried from the field and first taken to Point of Rocks, and then after a month was brought to the hospital at Baltimore. It was three months from the day he was shot until the wound was probed. The smashed and splintered bones were yet in the wound and it was in a terribly diseased condition. He lay upon one bed until the bones of his hip joint came through the flesh.

I want you to remember, my comrades and my colleagues, that he was then only a boy of 21 years, smooth faced, trained

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