Our dead are not forgotten. The custom of strewing flowers on the graves of the dead soldiers, in the cemeteries of the North and South, has taken a deep hold upon the hearts of the people, and yearly the beautiful ceremony is faithfully observed, Thousands wend their way to the resting-places of the dead and cover the green mounds with those sweet emblems of remembrance and love. [Illustration: 0269] It {261}is a blessed thought that, though they have gone hence, and their battle cry sweeps no more like a whirlwind in the faces of the enemy, yet the sacred anniversary brings back the memory of their heroic deeds, and as the bands of music peal out in solemn strains, and the tongues of orators are heard, recounting the story that will never grow old, the heart is stirred by a tender love for them, and goes out to the dead of the army who wore the gray as well. They were dear to their friends, among their most precious possessions, who mourn them deeply yet. The boys in gray laid down their lives with a complete renunciation of self, and their graves should be honored and remembered. Memorial Day has become what its name signifies--a mingling of the friends of the Blue and the Gray, and a cordial exchange of mutual courtesies. The graves of both are decked in unison in many of the resting-places of the nation's soldier dead. The thought of decorating the graves of their dead comrades originated with the Grand Army men, and they inaugurated the custom on May 30, 1868. Let this hallowed duty be observed in every graveyard of our land. And when the blossoms of beauty are borne to their resting-places, scatter them with lavish hands over the men who wore the Blue and the Gray, alike. They are slumbering peacefully under the green sward, and the sounds of conflict will disturb them no more. As we stand at their graves, let gentle thoughts of love and sympathy drive forever away all harsh or bitter memories. Let us think of them as having finished the battle--it is over, and they have gone to their reward. The sun shines kindly down upon them; may its beams brighten and bless every living soul on whom they fall. When the veil fell upon the drama of the Civil War, it was believed that the throes of battle would never again convulse' our land. Peace was welcomed and hopes were indulged that it would be perpetual. Brothers met brothers again in the walks of social and business life, the scars of discord were healed and the rude sounds of dissension were banished. {262} [Illustration: 0271] TWO VOICES. A {263}SOUTHERN VOLUNTEER. Yes, sir, I fought with Stonewall, And faced the fight with Lee; But if this here Union goes to war, Make one more gun for me! I didn't shrink from Sherman As he galloped to the sea; But if this here Union goes to war, Make one more gun for me! I was with 'em at Manassas--