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 TEUMAN B. RANSOM, 
 
 COLONEL OF THE NINTH REGIMENT. 
 
EULOGY, 
 
 AT NORWICH, VERMONT, 
 
 FEBRUARY 22, 1848, 
 
 DURING 
 OF 
 
 TRUMAN B. RANSOM, 
 
 Colonel of tl)c ^Intlj Hegimcnt. 
 
 By FREDERICK W. HOPKINS, Esa., 
 
 Adjutant-General of the State. 
 
 SeOONO EDITION. 
 
 TROY, N. Y.: 
 
 FROM THE PRESS OF FRESCOTT AND WILSON, CCXXV RIVER-STREET. 
 
 1849. 
 
403 
 
 o 
 
 •Tt Hi 
 
 Noi^AvicH, Fd. 24, 1848. 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 At a meeting of the Committee of Arrangements, on the occasion 
 of the Funeral of the late Col. T. B. Ransom, holden on the 2'3d instant, 
 it was unanimously decided to express to you their thanks for the highly 
 appropriate and jiatriotic Eulogy, delivered by you at this place on the 22d 
 instant: and the undersigned were appointed a committee for that purpose, 
 and to request a copy of the same for pubiicaiion. 
 
 With high esteem, we are. Sir, 
 
 Your obedient servants, 
 
 IRA DAVIS, 
 DIXI CROSBY, 
 JOHN WRIGHT. 
 To Adj. Gen. F. W. Hopkins. 
 
 Adjutant and Insp. General's Office, ) 
 Rutland, Feb. 28, 1848. ) 
 Gentlemen : 
 
 To your kind and flattering request, I briefly reply : — Seldom has a 
 man a right to make an apology for what he voluntary undertakes ; but it 
 is sometimes urged upon him from the effect of his position. In my official 
 capacity I was requested to speak of him, who, when he left us, was one 
 of the first military officers of the State, and my particular friend, I ac- 
 cepted the appointment, with short notice, and with an hour here and there 
 snatched from a daily attendance in a court-room, during a session, and 
 with scant materials, it is performed. 
 
 No consideration, but the wishes of the relatives of the deceased, per- 
 sonally expressed, would induce me thus to throw out upon the public my 
 first thoughts of him whom all hearts loved, and whose loss all mourn. 
 
 I discharged it as a duty to him and to yourselves. As such please ac- 
 cept it. With considerations of highest regard, I am, gentlemen. 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 F. W. HOPKINS. 
 To Col. Ira Davis, Prof. Dixi Crosby, John Wriout, Esq. 
 
EULOGY. 
 
 We are all here, the citizen and the soldier, the com- 
 panion and friend, the father and the son. There is 
 thouo^ht upon the brow, and sadness in the heart. 
 Wherefore are we here, and why is this sadness ? 
 
 Heard ye that bu^le note t Heard ye that gun as its 
 report echoed from hill side to hill side, and died away 
 in the distance ? Heard ye that shout as it arose on 
 the air, rolled along these vallies, and passed on ? What 
 meant that note, but as the rallying signal for impend- 
 ing danger, or for the redress of wrongs unavenged ! 
 W^hat meaning was conveyed by that gun, whose rap- 
 idly successive reports start the senses and arouse the 
 latent energies of the mind, but that the home of the 
 free-born is assailed and the foot of the stranger is on 
 the hearth-stone ; or, that the honor of our county is 
 tarnished ! Why arose that shout 1 but to tell of vic- 
 tory, and death ! 
 
 Heard ye it not, as sitting under your own vine you 
 peacefully enjoyed the blessings of a divine hand, and 
 thought only of the petty trials of life, and wondered 
 
if the future would be as the past ? Ye thought, per- 
 haps, of the vicissitudes in the life of another, but that 
 to you the sun would rise on the morrow, more preg- 
 nant with the pleasures of existence than its many sit- 
 tings had been. Your cultivated fields, your vine-dres- 
 sed gardens, told how you hugged to your hearts the 
 home of your youth, the hearth-stone of your happiness 
 and the companions of your toil. 
 
 The home-bird sat upon your boughs, and the lark 
 called you forth to the daily orison and the daily task. 
 Nought but New England scenery surrounded your 
 home, nought but domestic felicity filled your heart, 
 nought but selfish enjoyment lulled the soul to quietude 
 and peace. 
 
 Ye heard it not ! Ye heard it not ! But there was 
 one from your midst, to whom it conveyed a certain 
 and significant import. He heard it, a^ho now lies sleej)- 
 ing quietly there, with his shroud enfolded about him. 
 He, who was your citizen, your friend, and your neigh- 
 bor. He, who breathed with you the serene air of 
 these hills, and with you enjoyed the pent up happiness 
 of these vallies — surrounded with all the blessings of 
 life, and bound to you by the more sacred ties of affec- 
 tion and love. He heard the far off" gathering of the 
 armed host, and the voice of the spirit, stirred within 
 him, awoke, and broke forth into a cheerful and ready 
 answer, responsive to the call. 
 
 He looked forth around him. He perceived at a 
 glance the claims of his country, of society and his 
 home. Here upon his own soil, shone a sun-light, than 
 which, no country or clime could boast a brighter, a 
 calmer or more peaceful. He was every where at 
 home — companionable with all ; in every man he found 
 a friend. Yonder institution, the child of his thoughts, 
 
5 
 
 his hopes, his energies, and his exertions: stretched 
 forth its hands in pleading accents ibr protection to its 
 patron and parent. Society claimed him, liis home, 
 and his soil. Away from society, away from friends, 
 away from his home, and all its endearments — from her, 
 who called him husband ; from those, who, with uplifted 
 hands and tearful eyes, called to him "father, father, 
 leave us not," from this blessed sunshine of heaven, 
 and of his prosperity and usefulness, he turned with 
 anguish ; while in the far off distance, in a clime 
 fraught with disease and death, and where the sky was 
 clouded with the smoke of the battle-field, and where 
 volley after volley added to the overhanging vapor, he 
 descried through the misty chasm, surrounded with ef- 
 fulgence, and alluring light, one lone star ; it was the 
 star of honor, and his State's pride — the star of glory 
 and renown — the star of his country's fame, vindicated 
 by his own prowess and success ; his country, his own 
 country, now and forever, the star of his ow7i destiny. 
 
 Soon was heard, echoing from hill to hill, the war- 
 cry, "to arms, to arms for our country." And along 
 these vallies, where the foot prints of a Warner and an 
 Allen have not yet passed away, was he alone to hear 
 that cry ? Nay, here, and there, and there, before you, 
 were those, who breathed something of the same spirit 
 with hiyn who lies there, and rallied to his call. In (juick 
 answer and patriotic haste were gathered the sons of 
 Vermont, and in their prompt rally and zeal was exhibit- 
 ed the spirit of New-England. The pulse beat quick, and 
 the arm was nerved. Thus went they forth — the strong, 
 the brave and the free — at their country's call, and for 
 their country's honor. Thus periled life, for a name to 
 live. Alas, how few there are, in the wide world 
 around us, who are content to die and leave no name ! 
 
6 
 
 How few, in whom it is the ultimate hope, to spring into 
 being, wrestle through life, die, and be remembered no 
 more ! Yet, what creatures are we of destiny! How 
 little know we of the object and end of living. Here 
 and there, on the grand panorama of life, birth is given 
 to genius, as though specially endowed as the direct 
 offspring and favorite of Heaven. It struggles up into 
 existence, and all along, its pathway is marked by signs 
 unerring and not to be mistaken. Upward and on- 
 ward is its course, and we follow its progress with ad- 
 miring gaze, while difficulty after difficulty is sur- 
 mounted, until it seems just ready to burst upon the 
 world in one resplendent beacon light, every ray of 
 which would indicate a talent, a virtue, or an accom- 
 plishment to guide us over the trackless Ocean Wave 
 of life. If ever a great design and object of being, and 
 a providential end of existence were apparent, they 
 would seem to be indicated here. It would almost 
 sometimes seem, that upon such a particular instance 
 of existence, depended the progression of society. But 
 suddenly, a faint whisper from the fiat of the Almighty 
 is breathed, and that light is dashed out forever ; we 
 know not why ; we know not wherefore. Yet life 
 moves on again, as though that light had never been — 
 as though there was not one star less in the galaxy 
 wide spread above us. 
 
 Occasionally, under our own observation, occurs an 
 instance of our general proposition. 
 
 Do you see that lad, with his waivjs dark hair, and 
 his keen eye dancing with intelligence, truthfulness and 
 mirth ; his satchel thrown over his shoulder, as he 
 wends his way to his school, his mates and his lessons. 
 He is descended from brave ancestors, who were all 
 found aiding their country in the war of the Kevolu- 
 
lion ; and one of them bravely fell by the side of Mont- 
 gomery in liis fatal attack of Quebec. And now at 
 the age of ten years, and in this boyhood of life, has 
 he lost a father, the protector of his youth, and the 
 guide of his riper years* He is left penniless, and de- 
 pendent upon his own exertions and his own brave 
 heart. With an ambition beyond his years, a hope 
 beaming up from the depths of adversity, with a manly 
 courage and determination, he looks around him, ob- 
 serves his bearings, and then strikes out into the cur- 
 rent of life, confident that his efforts will soon land him 
 on firm standing, and enviable ground. He leaves his 
 home and all that boyhood cherishes ; his mates, his 
 mother, and his all. Ardent in his temperament and 
 his hopes, he sees only the future in its brightest perspec- 
 tive. With a less determined spirit, he would have ex- 
 aggerated the obstacles that surrounded him, and turned 
 back disconsolate and forlorn. But his career once 
 commenced— progress once made, his ambition " grows 
 with what it feeds on,*' and he seeks at once to enter 
 the arcana of literature, science and the arts. By me- 
 chanical skill and toil, by industry, zeal and fidelity, 
 relying upon his own resources, and, unaided by others, 
 he commences a class of classical studies ; and by a 
 manly perseverance, and a strict economy, he success- 
 fully completes his academical course. The same am- 
 bition and zeal, lead him to enter upon those studies^ 
 embraced in a collegiate course, and especially the 
 higher branches of mathematics. These he accom- 
 plished, and now stands forth in society a man among 
 men, and not only in literature, and the practical sci- 
 ences a scholar, but in the world at large, as a young 
 man of general intelligence, virtue, and Avell fitted to 
 adorn society. That lad, and that young man is Ran- 
 som. 
 
8 
 
 Such was his proficiency, his scholarship and his 
 skill, that he was selected as one of four, the most ad- 
 vanced, to survey the Connecticut river, with all its 
 difficulties ; and his results are not surpassed, in the 
 truthfulness of their delineations and the correctness 
 of their design. Possessing the energy of character and 
 acquirements that he did, his talents could not long be 
 concealed. We see him next a teacher of Mathematics 
 and Military Science, in a High School in Connecticut. 
 Soon a Principal of a Military School in New Jersey. 
 Then in the same capacity in North Carolina. A Pro- 
 fessor of Military Tactics and Mathematics in Missis- 
 sippi. At length a Professor of Mathematics in the 
 United States Navy. Thus far have we traced him ; 
 and success, and the affection of all communities fol- 
 lowed in his footsteps. 
 
 We find him again among us, as the President of 
 Norwich University. We all know with what zeal 
 and energy he applied himself to an adequate discharge 
 of the duties of this office. Here were called forth 
 those powers which characterized him as as a scholar. 
 Here were manifested the developments of the moral 
 man— thai decision of character, uprightness of pur- 
 pose, urbanity of manner, and gentlemanly deportment, 
 which as a citizen and member of society opened to 
 him the hearts of all. Here daily were exhibited those 
 affections of the heart, that endeared him to his pupils, 
 as the kind parent and guardian, and the laithful moni- 
 tor and friend. Here shone too that military talent, 
 which he possessed in an eminent degree. Perhaps, 
 nowhere in New-England, could be found a more sys- 
 tematic, correct and perfect tactician. 
 
 The military art, to which, as making up a part of 
 the character of Col. Ransom, we are called upon to 
 
9 
 
 allude, is something more than what the crude notions of 
 the bigoted man, the manof limited views, or the calcula- 
 ting utilitarian would give it credit for being. It does 
 not at all consist in the imposing display, the military 
 garb, and the tasteful appointments of war. These are 
 but the insignia of rank of our day, and are in some 
 measure the substitutes merely of the ancient and then 
 more necessary armor of defence, made useful by their 
 method of warfare ; when the shock of battle and the 
 clash of arms were no mere figurative expressions. It 
 does not all consist in the beautiful evolutions, as 
 spreading out before us the imposing array, the accu- 
 rate, yet rapid movement of bodies in change of po- 
 sition to meet the ever-changing scenes and circum- 
 stances of the battle-field ; and the march of column 
 in beautiful deployment. It is a science, to the success- 
 ful study of which must be brought a taste susceptive 
 of appreciating the beautiful and the grand ; a mind 
 capable of possessing and valuing the higher and no- 
 bler qualities of our moral nature. It embraces within 
 its limits many of the most useful and practical sciences 
 and unites them in one grand developement of the phys- 
 ical man and the active, intelligent and discriminating 
 powers of the mind. Such a science, when carried out 
 by its mathematical accuracy, by its philosophical 
 knowledge, by its topographical correctness, by its his- 
 torical information, both physical and natural, into the 
 useful and proper understanding of the resources and 
 defences of a country, brings with it upon that country 
 a conscious security and peace ; and as a consequence, 
 the progress of agriculture, science and the arts. With 
 such a country will a foreign nation, with a knowledge 
 of such resources and position, raise but few difficul- 
 ties, and when raised will speedily adjust them. 
 
liD 
 
 As such a science, did General Ransom study it. In 
 this science did he become an enviable proficient ; and 
 under his instructions, discipline and skill, did it seem 
 to be invested with new life and to develop new beau- 
 ties. 
 
 In 1839, he was elected by the Legislature to be 
 General of Division ; and to this office he carried the 
 confidence of the whole people. The militia system 
 was for a time, the subject of his first thoughts, and 
 his untiring exertions ; and his greatest ambition was, 
 that among all the States of the Union, to Vermont 
 should be given a system preeminently the best, the 
 most complete, and perfect in all its parts. To this end 
 were directed all the energies of his active mind, all 
 the influence which he possessed. But a vitiated pub- 
 lic sentiment, as faithfully expressed by its assembled 
 wisdom, frustrated his designs and rendered abortive 
 all his efforts. He was well aware, that to the igno- 
 rance of many of its officers, and to their want of ap- 
 plication to a right understanding of its duties, the re- 
 sponsibilities it involved, and the instructions it im- 
 posed, was attributable much of the censure and pre- 
 judice, to which it had become obnoxious ; and by his 
 presence, encouragement, example and thorough drills, 
 he endeavored all in his power to remedy the defect. 
 And there were many who ably co-operated with him. 
 
 Of the political character and life of General Ran- 
 som, was there time to do so, I could speak freely, and 
 with the highest respect and honor for his conduct and 
 opinions, although I did not think with him. But it is 
 a characteristic of the people of Vermont, that when 
 they agree to differ they well know how to respect and 
 appreciate the talents of each other. Unfortunately 
 for the political preferment of General Ransom, he was 
 
u 
 
 in the minority in his native State. He belonged — in 
 all his opinions, feelings, and associations, to that party, 
 who openly and manlully proclaim themselves to be 
 the Democracy in our government ; and a noble speci- 
 men he was. His frequent nomination to the highest 
 offices in the gift of the people, manifest a right appre- 
 ciation of his talents, and does credit to the judgment 
 of his party. 
 
 In the war commenced with Mexico, it became ne- 
 cessary for the general government to make a levy of 
 men upon the different States of the Union ; and for 
 the raising of this levy, one regiment was assigned to 
 New-England, and to Vermont one company. In this 
 regiment, covering so large a territory, and conse- 
 quently exciting a rivalry in zeal for the service of 
 their country, an office in which was sought by all 
 classes among the many States, which compose and 
 claim that proud name. General Ransom was honored 
 with the field officer of Major ; an office which he ac- 
 cepted, although far below his expectations, or his 
 merits. Soon after, while the recruiting service was 
 vigorously pushed by the faithful officers already ap- 
 pointed, the promotion of Colonel Pierce, who had been 
 appointed to its command, to the post of Brigadier 
 General, made a vacancy in that command, to which 
 Major Ransom was most justly and opportunely raised. 
 "With the renowned Pierce for its General, and the gal- 
 lant Ransom for its Colonel, who could fear for the 
 character of New-England. 
 
 In hot haste were gathered the boys of the Green 
 Mountain State — in hot haste were they joined with 
 New-England's sons, and in hot haste were they laun- 
 ched forth upon the wide wave that bore thom from 
 their country, their soil, and their home, to a foreign 
 
m 
 
 clime, and a country that welcomed them not. Their 
 farewells were quickly spoken, and their last words 
 died upon the shore. They have gone, the father, the 
 brother, the husband and the son. As those sails were 
 wafted away from our sight, how many a home was 
 left grieved ; how many a heart feeling its anguish ; 
 how many a hearth-stone was left desolate. 
 
 But here w^e must stop. From these homes of our 
 fathers — from these mountains of contentment and 
 peace — -from these wide- spread vallies, where industry 
 and happiness dwell, a voice calls us to the fields of 
 Contreras, Cherubusco, Molino Del Rey, and that fatal 
 Chapultepec — a country scarcely revealed to us but 
 through the misty medium of fable — a country Math 
 which is associated the city of the Aztecs, the Temple 
 of the Sun, a Cortes, a Montezuma, the pyramid and 
 the ruin — a country of the Orange grove, the story and 
 the song — but a country with which is now associated 
 in our minds the disease of climate ; the lone, aban- 
 doned sickness, with no fair hand to smoothe the brow ; 
 with the appaling thought of a far off home, and friends 
 away : with the war cry, the fearful struggle and the 
 groans of the dying, and the graves of the dead. 
 
 Towards his Regiment, from the time he first met 
 them at Fort Adams, to the day of his death, there 
 seemed to spring up an attachment, that increased with 
 their intimacy, to an almost fatherly afiection ; and 
 when in camp at Vera Cruz, many were its exhibitions 
 in acts of the kindest attention, to their wants, their 
 comforts and their feelings. Was there a soldier wrong- 
 ed ; j)rompthj did he obtain for him, the peaceable and 
 manly redress. Was there one whose sick bed needed 
 attention and care, he personally saw that he had it. 
 Was there one who did not do hi,s duty ; he instructed 
 
13 
 
 his ignorance, or kindly reasoned with his inattention. 
 Nor was his attention confined merely to the health 
 and physical comfort of his regiment. All along were 
 they reminded of the religious and moral influences, 
 that surrounded them. When service upon the Sab- 
 bath vv^as practicable it was strictly enjoined. All 
 who survive will recollect, when, at Perote, the first 
 Sabbath in August, the regiment was formed under the 
 east wall of the castle, the hymns of New-England 
 were first swelled out upon that mountain region. In 
 a word, he seemed to have a mind for every emergen- 
 cy — a heart for every duty. 
 
 In following our friends through the land of the 
 stranger, of the bold, the faithless, and the false ; through 
 the way-laid mountain pass, and the secret foe of the 
 chapparal, we must know something of where we are- 
 We must discard from our view, the fair and open 
 battle-fields of Europe, and our own land ; the beauti- 
 ful array of armies, and the skill of strategy. And if 
 we are selected to conduct a diversion, for the deception, 
 or surprise of our enemy, it becomes us to look well 
 to our footsteps. On the one side, is an almost impassa- 
 ble bog, on the other a field of volcanic rocks, and la- 
 va ; here, a ditch, and there, a ravine ; a narrow cause- 
 way in front, the only accessible means of communi- 
 cation ; an aqueduct, a bridge to pass, a mound to 
 overcome, or a parapet to surmount. Many of these 
 impediments were thrown into the case, in the attack 
 of Contreras, in the taking of which Colonel Ransom 
 was designated to the command of a brigade, composed 
 of the Ninth, the Third, Twelfth, and Rifle Regiments, 
 for the purpose of a diversion or an attack as the cir- 
 cumstances of the case should require. It proved an 
 attack, and at the appointed time he not only made the 
 
14 
 
 movement to divert, and distract the enemy, but, after 
 crossing a deep ravine in his front, advanced and pour- 
 ed into the works and upon the fugitives many volleys, 
 from his destructive musketry. This was but one in 
 the series of his gallant achievements. From this fort* 
 into which he boldly led his command, without rest, 
 without food, he proceeded on to flank the batteries of 
 Cherubusco. The capture of Cherubusco, a strongly 
 fortified convent, and a strong field work, was the re- 
 sult of the third signal triumph of the day. The citadel 
 of the enemy followed in the conquest of our arms. 
 At Molino Del Rey, it became the sad duty of Col. Ran- 
 som to see the wounded and dead collected and safely 
 conveyed from the battle-field. This duty was most 
 faithfully and nobly done, while a large force of Mex- 
 ican Lancers, the advance guard of the enemy, were 
 drawn up within fifty yards of the spot ; and while too 
 within point blank shot, and almost directly under the 
 castle of Chapultepec. Nor was he content merely to 
 command on this melancholy occasion ; corpse after 
 corpse did he take in las oion arms and convey them 
 fiway to the ambulances, as if each one was the re- 
 mains of a brother. Did ever commander do this ! — If 
 ■SO, tell me where I may find it. 
 
 And now, Chapultepec lies before us — a strongly for- 
 tified post, high up on an abrupt and steep hill, and 
 which commanded the city of Mexico, and its passes. 
 •''It must be taken," says the Commander-in-Chief 
 " It shall be taken," echoed the Ninth, and to General 
 Pierce's brigade was assigned the advance, and to the 
 Ninth, the coveted privilege of leading in the attack. 
 On this occasion, fired with gratitude and zeal, the ar- 
 dent Ransom grasped the hand of his brave General, 
 and uttered the prophetic words, " I pledge my word to 
 you, to lead my regiment into that castle or die. 
 
16 
 
 Previous to the battle, do our eyes follow him as he 
 c:oes the round of the camp, visits liis brave men and 
 compatriots in arms, and mingles his deep, kind voice 
 with theirs in encouragement, zeal and hope. 
 
 He assembles his officers about him, and with a flash- 
 ing eye and a flushed cheek, he looks upon them with 
 confidence, while he points them to their far off Green 
 Mountain State, whose name is fast upon the annals 
 of her country, whose flag has never been tarnished, 
 and whose credit they are now to sustain. He reminds 
 them of their State's pride and her honored dead, 
 whose names are cherished by her sons, and whose 
 dust is bosomed in her soil. 
 
 It is often an incident in war, that if a leader, in 
 whose valor, wisdom, and foresight, great confidence is 
 placed, is picked off and killed, sudden confusion fol- 
 lows, want of concert of action, retreat, the rally is not 
 heeded, and defeat ensues. Colonel Ransom was there- 
 fore strongly urged — that if he could not be dissuaded 
 from leading, surely to throw off* the badges of his of- 
 fice, and not permit himself to be a mark for the ene- 
 my. But he chose to advance as he was, and he es- 
 teemed it the proudest moment of his life to lead the 
 brave, the New-England Regiment. 
 
 On the morning of the 13th, was his Regiment drawn 
 up in precise and proud disposition. And as he passed 
 along the flanks of its column, how familiarly and 
 kindly does he notice by name every one known to him. 
 And even in the excitement of the onset, how does his 
 quick eye, detect and approvingly encourage the con- 
 duct of his known and tried friends. He placed him- 
 self at their head ; he glanced his proud eye once on 
 those upon whom he relied, and then turned with cheer- 
 ing hope upon the flag, that proudly waved above him. 
 
16 
 
 The signal was given, " Forward, the Ninth !" Then 
 waiving his sword, in encouragement to the advance — 
 he fell and died. A well aimed Escopette ball entered 
 his brain, and ended his life without a struggle or a 
 groan. 
 
 Thus fell a brave and an accomplished man. To 
 the Army he was an acquisition, notwithstanding their 
 prejudice to the new levies, as all that came under his 
 command, most effectually ascertained. To the State 
 he was a loss, deeply to be deplored, for his talents, his 
 acquirements, and his devotion. Among the militia, 
 who is there that will espouse their interests with 
 such heart and zeal ? In society who will so deeply 
 feel his absence as the citizen, and the neighbor ? And 
 in the home of the deceased, who can depict the lone 
 absence of the husband, and the kind counsels of the 
 father 1 
 
 The green and joyous spirit of youth, fledged and 
 bosomed among our hills, and pinioned upon the in- 
 spiration of our mountain home, perceives no limit to 
 its vision— no boundary to its aspirations. It struggles 
 up and away through the vicissitudes of life, proud of 
 its origin and its freedom. It inspires its own intelligence 
 wherever it appears, and breathes a consciousness of 
 power unfettered as its home — a power nurtured in the 
 valley and on the cliff — amidst the humility and the 
 grandeur of nature in close proximity ; it upbears a 
 mind commensurate to the vastness of thought and the 
 freedom of mental action. With all its intelligence — 
 with all its conscious power, it is doomed to mingle 
 with the spirits of earth, where man meets man, and 
 mind clashes with mind. No land, whose soil is not 
 pressed by its footsteps ; no sea, that bears it not upon 
 her waters. Who can mark out its flight 1 Who can 
 predict its destiny 1 
 
17 
 
 III the fortunes of one, blending the strong power of 
 intellect, the keenest susceptibility, and the most vivid 
 imagination, with all the incongruities of physical in- 
 aptitude, it may struggle on into life, exciting no voice 
 of sympathy — no thought of fraternity. With the 
 breath of the cold world blanching its cheek, and icing 
 its life-blood, and no hope lighting its eye, but the hope 
 of futurity. It moves along noiseless amidst the clam- 
 our of ambition, pride and prosperity around it — alone 
 amid the wilderness of humanity ; its trials, its sor- 
 rows and its thoughts are its own. No story tells its 
 struggles — no poem measures out a thought of its being. 
 Disheartened, wearied and dying, it returns again to 
 our hills, our homes and our hearts. We seek to tin ;e 
 again the blanched cheek ; again the expiring hope is 
 kindled by our prayer ; again it lingers for a time 
 among us, until, while nestling amidst its youthful as- 
 sociations and thoughts of home, it wings its way to a 
 better and a more congenial clime. 
 
 It is again manifested in the life of another — the 
 lamented and melancho y one before us. One in 
 whose birth and progress, as in those of many others, 
 the equality of mental endowments is proved a fiction, 
 and its origin a mistaken philosophy, discouraging as 
 its falsity may be to the many, and full of hope to the 
 few. Born in poverty and friendless, like thousands 
 around us ; — reared by no fatherly hand, and watched 
 over by no paternal solicitude ; — the difficulties of sud- 
 den youthful independence overcome, and the obstacles 
 that circumstances threw around him surmounted, the 
 final success in the attainment of education and places 
 of distinction and trust, develop an energy of charac- 
 ter, a concentration of purpose and powers of mind of 
 no ordinary worth. With a form stamped with nature's 
 3 
 
18 
 
 nobility, and a manner to enforce his personal accom- 
 plishments — a manly bearing and a manly soul ; a mind 
 varied in its acquirements, acute, observant of men and 
 the world they live in, active and energetic, affable and 
 courteous, yet appreciating himself, and ambitious of the 
 world's thought, and mindful of the God who made him 
 as he was, he seemed a combination of physical and 
 mental worth, 
 
 " To give the world assurance of a man." 
 
 Thus, and such as he was, goes he forth and away 
 from these peaceful scenes, and strikes out for himself 
 the path of glory and renown. He leaves sad, but 
 trustful hearts behind him — yet the eye of the adven- 
 turer kindles as he leaves his native shores in the dis- 
 tance, and the heart beats, and the cheek is flushed' 
 with hope for the laurel that is to crown his brow, and 
 the nation's gratitude that is to flood his heart. Away 
 from his home — away from its endearments, its friends 
 and all that the heart loves to look upon, he is upheld 
 by his high purpose, he cherishes a consciousness o^ 
 mental power, and a manly prowess adequate to the 
 cause he has espoused. With all these thoughts and 
 hopes and fears crowding around the heart, proudly 
 and onwardly he careers. But soon the ideal no long- 
 er, but the reality appears in the perspective ; and to 
 imagination no longer does fancy furnish the aliment- 
 The field is before him — a field on which is to lie his 
 buried hopes, or to be gained his toon name. The flag 
 of his triumph waives above him. His progress is only 
 onward, and God his shield, and his success is complete. 
 
 But, let the smoke of the battle field shut out from 
 our view the struggle of mind with the destiny of man ! 
 
19 
 
 where the spirit is struck down in its pride of strength, 
 although fame he won. Alas, what to us is life but the 
 mirror of our own being ! Well is it for us that the 
 hope of earth is but the shadow of brighter and more 
 permanent aspirations ! Well is it for us that the 
 spirit of mind finds no scope, no resting place but in a 
 boundless hereafter ! Well is it for us that our sadness 
 and our sorrows are but our wings to the only " field of 
 glory" commensurate to the soul's sublime and perfect 
 action. 
 
 The wave of life has borne him back again upon 
 our shore — a wreck upon the strand — and sorrow is 
 written upon the valley and the hill, upon the home 
 and the heart. 
 
 AVe are all here — and the dead too, is loith us. There- 
 fore are we here ! TJierefore is sadness upon our 
 hearts ! He was there in his duty. He is here before 
 you, to remind you of the loss of your country, of tal- 
 ents extinguished, and of his virtues only remaining. 
 
 Lay him gently down in his quiet resting place ; raise 
 over him the monument of your affections, let the tear 
 be shed over his grave, and let the successive volley 
 speak out our appreciation of his virtues, his valor and 
 his renown. 
 
 The breeze of the Norther still sweeps o'er the plain, 
 And the night-bird still shrieks o'er the dust of the slain, 
 But time's whelming tide, like the deep sea wave. 
 Shall not raze from mem'ry the Vermonter's grave. 
 O'er mountain and vale, the moon-beams still play. 
 And the sun still sheds its ephemeral ray. 
 But, brighter, far brighter the star of the brave, 
 As its mild lustre beams on a Ransom's grave. 
 
46 
 

 
 
 
 
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