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The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On fame's eternal camping-ground,
Their silent tents are spread;
And glory guards, with solemn round,
That bivouac of the dead.
As medical men, our duties do not lead us in the path of political struggle, but indirectly we may be drawn into the whirl of excitement incident to the great political questions of the day. May we not then exert an influence in quieting the passions of men, and by our efforts, aid in effecting the consummation so devoutly wished of rebuilding the fabric of our national prosperity? May we not, by precept and example, help to restore the harmony and unity of feeling, which, as one sentiment, dear to the great American heart, should pervade the entire Union of the States?
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