uching the stars.
Behind these the men stacked arms, and stood, tense and motionless, as a hushed sea. Those faces spoke depths of manliness, and reaches of deeds words do not record.
The veterans of terrible campaigns, the flushed faces from Appomattox, the burning hearts turned homewards, mighty memories and quenchless love held innermost.
On the open face of the square, on a little mound, we planted the red Maltese cross of the division,--itself emblem and memorial of great things sufferedreedom and right, he gave us back to ourselves, better soldiers, and better men. Who that heard those burning words can ever forget them?
And who that saw, can ever forget that congregation in the field?
Meekly returning from their glories at Appomattox, and sternly sharing — for it was of theirs also — the sacrifice at Washington.
Steadfast and noble in every test, unto the end. God bless them beyond, likewise!
That evening came the orders for the corps to stretch itself out for permanen