garrison duty throughout the Northwest, but later performed gallant service in the Indian wars that were ever in progress.
I wish that it were possible within the necessary limits of this article to write down some of the many deeds of matchless heroism wrought by the loyal men of the Northwest in the dark days of the war—deeds fit to rank with the gallantry of Sheridan's dashing troopers, with the glorious achievements of Sherman's March to the Sea, with the steadfastness of the iron phalanxes of the immortal Grant. But we can at least pay our tribute of praise to those rude frontiersmen of the Pacific, who loved their country, their country's flag, and the cause of freedom,—who fulfilled, without murmur, the self-sacrificing duty placed upon them by the martyr President, who wrought out in blood and fire the destiny of the Northwest, and whose only reward has been the sense of duty done. Of each of them the beautiful words of Tennyson are peculiarly appropriate:
"Not once or twice in our rough island story
The path of duty was the way to glory:
He that walks it, only thirsting
For the right, and learns to deaden
Love of self, before his journey closes,
He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting
Into glossy purples, which outredden
All voluptuous garden roses.
Not once or twice in our fair island's story
The path of duty was the way to glory:
He that ever following her commands,
On with toil of heart and knees and hands,
Thro' the long gorge to the far light has won
His path upward, and prevailed,
Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled
Are close upon the shining table-lands
To which our God himself is moon and sun.
Such was he, his work is done.
But while the races of mankind endure
Let his great example stand
Colossal, seen of every land,
And keep the soldier firm, the statesman pure:
Till in all lands and thro' all human story
The path of duty be the way to glory."
