There were wounds. There was suffering. There was heartache. There were asperities. There was death. There was bereavement. These were inevitable. But there was a nobility about it all, that, seen through the intervening years, silences discord, softens hate, and makes forgiveness easy. To-day we laugh and weep together. Wounds are healed; asperities are forgotten; the past is remembered without bitterness; glory hovers like a benediction over this immortal field and guards with solemn round the bivouac of all the dead, giving no heed to the garb they wore. Their greatness is the legacy of all—the heritage of the Nation. Reconciliation has come with influences soft and holy. The birds build nests in yonder cannon. The songs of school children fill the air. Indiana has come to Mississippi to dedicate monuments erected by her to the memory of her soldiers, living and dead, who struggled here; but she comes with malice toward none, with love for all. With you, sir, the Governor of this Commonwealth, and with your people she would pour her tribute of tears upon these mounds where sleep sixteen thousand of our uncommon common dead. Her troops were here with Grant. One of her regiments, the 6th, sought out the way for the army beyond the river yonder. They were the “entering wedge.” They were in every battle. At Champion’s Hill, Hovey’s division bore for hours the battle’s brunt. Fighting under the eye of the great general himself, they captured a battery, lost it, and recaptured it, and at night slept upon the field wet with their blood.