asion, dedicated to the dead, to speak of and to the survivors of these their comrades, who so nobly made up their accounts and passed away, leaving a duty, a sacred duty, to be performed by the living.
There are many of those living who were true in the rank and file of the army, who were to tread with cautious steps and not forget to pay and not to mistake the way of paying the debt due to the fallen.
You propose to build them a shrine.
That shrine will be nothing—it will be vain, a mockery—if every one of your own hearts and heads are not shrines, in which the memories of these men are embalmed.
Your hearts cannot be their shrines if you have not performed your part too like true men, worthy of their example.
Let us, the living, gather their ashes to the grave-yards of the old homesteads, and con the moral of their lives and deaths, that—
Integrity of life is fame's best friend, Which nobly beyond death shall crown the end. [From the New Orleans Picayune, Feb 10, 1895