ADDRESSES OF MAJOR LACEY 249 



all we meet on this scene as friends rejoicing in a Union 

 cemented by so much of sorrow and strife. 



From Bull Run to Appomattox as the crow flies is only 

 one hundred and twenty miles, but that journey covered 

 thousands of miles through many states. Measured by 

 time it was a journey of four years: measured in blood 

 and tears it was a thousand years. 



The journey was by various and devious routes: 

 through mud and mire, through sunshine and through 

 storm, through summer heats and winter snows, through 

 dangers by flood and fire, through dangers by stream and 

 wood, through sickness and sorrow, and by the wayside 

 death always stalked and grimly claimed his own. 



The real monument of that war after all is not the 

 marble and granite that celebrates the life and death of 

 heroes, or preserves their features or names for the study 

 of generations yet to come. 



Under St. Paul's Cathedral in London is the tomb of 

 Sir Christopher Wren, who designed the beautiful build- 

 ing and constructed it from corner stone to spire. His 

 epitaph is short and simple : " If you would see my mon- 

 ument, look around you!" 



If you would see the true monument of these dead, and 

 of their surviving comrades, look around you wherever 

 you may be. A united country is their monument. Their 

 monument can be seen from the car windows of forty- 

 eight prosperous states. 



The monuments erected by the living to the dead honor 

 the living even more than they honor the dead. And here 

 upon this southern battlefield, surrounded by men who 

 fought on both sides, we may quote with our approval the 

 immortal and prophetic words of Shakespeare : 



Our peace will like a broken limb united 

 Grow stronger for the breaking. 



