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LIEUTENANT COCHRAN :

Before we go, I want you to see another man and then another, and then all of us will go to see a man. I want you to see GENERAL FULLERTON, Our Treasurer.

GENERAL FULLERTON:

Comrades, Ladies and Gentlemen-As I looked at this magnificent audience, as I looked down on this sea of upturned faces when my friend, GENERAL THRUSTON, was addressing you, I became enthused and thought that I, too, under such circumstances, might make almost as good an address as the very excellent one you have just heard. As the enthusiasm grew my courage came, till I actually wished I, too, could have a chance to talk. The opportunity has come, but the enthusiasm has gone, and my courage, like BOB ACRES'S, has slipped out at my finger ends. Indeed, just now, I wish that I might be anywhere else than here. I feel very much like an old negro whom I knew of in Kentucky some years ago. He was very religious, unusually pious, and powerful in prayer. Every night before going to bed he got on his knees and made his little log-cabin ring with prayer, praying loud enough to be heard not only in heaven but on the greater part of his earthly master's plantation. He told the Lord of his good deeds, and always ended with this fervent request: "O Lord, my time is about over on dis yer earth; I wants to stay no more wid de wicked. Send down now de Angel Gabriel to take poor ole William home to glory." Some of the white boys in the neighborhood, who had often heard this prayer, thought on one occasion to test old William's sincerity and courage. So, taking a fireman's horn, one of them climbed on the roof of the cabin while William was vociferously shouting his evening prayer. Just as the usual request for the Angel Gabriel to call for him had been made, a great, loud, solemn voice, was heard coming down the chimney, saying: "William! William! William! Are you thar?" "Who's dat? Who's dat?" cried William, in an excited and tremulous voice, and the solemn and loud

voice responded: "T is the Angel Gabriel come to take poor old William home to glory!" Quickly and excitedly the venerable darky replied: "Go way from dah! Go way from dah! Dis yer am de wrong place. Old William done move away from here two weeks ago!"

Now, I feel like the old negro when he was caught. I wish I could satisfy you by responding: "Tis not I; I moved away from here two weeks ago."

I don't know what it is, but there is a sort of intellectual palsy strikes a man when he is suddenly and unexpectedly called upon to make an extempore speech, especially when the call comes from such an intelligent and discriminating audience as this. His ideas become confused, his words hide in the dark corners of his memory, and his enthusiasm, if he has such (as I had but a few moments ago), like an electric current, a connection established with the platform, quickly passes down his legs, chilling and weakening them as it goes out.

Now, I am talking against time. When I take my seat, when it's too late, I shall think of many good and perhaps wise things I might have said. In fact, in these days, when stenographic writing newspaper reporters abound, when they can be found wherever there is speaking, wherever two or three meet together, catening every word spoken--and many that are not-public speaking has become very dangerous business. And as for impromptu speaking—well, they have killed that; 't is a lost art. Who can stand up and speak his thoughts with a calm and unruffled mind, or with any thing like coherency, when he is afraid to talk? When he must stop to select words and try at the moment to think out sentences that can be parsed? His very fear that he may make some little journalistic mistake that will certainly be published, just as made, in the next morning's paper, will make one unaccustomed to impromptu speaking so nervous that in blindly groping along he will tumble headlong into a mess of confused ideas, nouns, adjectives, and verbs-maybe I have done so now.

Now, let me give you an example. It was in this very city, at a meeting of this Society, ten years ago, and on a like occasion, when one of the most distinguished of our generals was suddenly called up for a few remarks just as you are calling us, less distinguished sur

vivors. The call almost stunned him. He turned to me and said, in a terrified voice: "Oh, I can not, I can not; look, there are reporters!" By this time GENERAL SHERIDAN had him by the arm pulling him forward. In piteous tones he asked to be excused, but SHERIDAN said: "Just tell them you are obliged, and then sit down.” So, with heroic effort and trembling legs, he came forward, and feebly said: "Gentlemen and ladies, I thank you for your kind attention. I am not prepared to speak to-night, but I hope to have the opportunity to address you on some previous occasion.” And some of you now present may remember another impromptu speech at that same meeting, made by perhaps the readiest and most eloquent man of his day. He was then in the beginning of his Presidential canvass―our departed and beloved comrade, GENERAL GARFIELD. You may remember his touching tribute to THOMAS, our greatest soldier, and then his beautiful peroration describing part of the march of the Army of the Cumberland through Georgia and up to Washington, telling how it "passed in splendid review before our noble martyr-the greatest of Presidents." He then took his seat, when, walking over to him, I offered my congratulations on the beautiful address, and told him I was glad to hear him say such fine things about my good old friend, PRESIDENT ANDREW JOHNSON, before whom the review was made! In great haste he said: "Quick, FULLERTON, see the reporters; stop them; don't let them publish that. I was thinking of LINCOLN." Together we saw the reporters, and that slip did not appear in the next morning's paper. When such ready speakers as GARFIELD are caught up what can be expected of ordinary talkers? Yet this thing of calling for impromptu speeches ought to be done away withat least at our army meetings. A man can't do himself justice on such occasions. Had I known there was a possibility of a call being made for me I would have quietly slipped off this platform when the last speaker was delighting you-or, now being caught, I would like to be able to go off in some other direction, like the Louisville dude who was caught on spelling. It was last summer. He was on the way to Narragansett. Having arrived in New York, he saw a girl working on a typewriter in his hotel. "By George," he said to him

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self, I'll write home to my best girl a printed letter." So, having engaged the services of the artist, he commenced this dictation: "Dear Molly, arrived New Yok t'day." Got that? "Yes," she said. "Tomorrow go to Nar-r-r-gast.” "Where?" said the typewriter. "Why, Nar-r-r-gast." "How?" "Didn't you hear? Nar-r-r-gast! Narr-r-gast!! Nar-r-r-gast !!!" "Oh," she said, " How do you spell it?" "Spell it? Do I have to spell it?" "Yes," was the stern response. "Well, then, I'll go to Newpo't!" I wish I could turn off of my course now as easily as the young lover, but as I can't, I shall only thank you kindly for this call, for I esteem it a great honor to speak to such an audience, and only wish I could say something that might interest you. These meetings are sort of love-feasts of old comrades, and we can't help talking about one another, and of what we did, and how we whipped the enemy. To-night, however, we have had something new from our gallant comrade, THURSTON, And let me say just here that though he looks so very young he is much older than some of the rest of us. I remember that he was one of the old boys long ago when I entered the freshman class at college. Indeed, he may be classed, notwithstanding his youthful looks, as an "old" soldier. I can tell those of you who are not familiar with the history of the Army of the Cumberland that he was not only a very gallant and brave soldier, but also one who did some very important and well-timed work on the fields of Stone River and Chickamauga. To-night he changed the current of our usual addresses, and told us something new, for he told how some great military work was done by the general-in-chief of our opponents during the former "unpleasantness." With what he said about LEE I fully agree. I believe LEE was a great general; that is, great on the defensive. He was educated and a soldier, and had training as an engineer officer. Our war showed that such officers excelled in defensive fighting. But when LEE came to the offensive fighting he was not nearly so great, and did not succeed very well. After STONEWALL JACKSON's death his offensive operations were failures. In JACKSON's death the Confederates lost their great offensive fighter. In offensive fighting he was greater than LEE, and so was LONGSTREET. But I do not, and I am sure

our Orator does not, have any thing like the exaggerated opinion of LEE that was held by a young Virginian I heard of a short time ago. Now, what I am about to tell you, let me say, en passant, is illustrative of the perishability of human fame. Down in New Orleans, a short time ago, a lot of small, yellowish, thin-legged Creoles, were shivering before a summer fire in the Shakespeare Club, talking about things in their own beloved Acadia in the State of Louisiana, when this young Virginian came up and engaged them in conversation. The theme he introduced was the war. In the course of conversation he remarked: "Yes, sah! I tell you that this country, or no country, yet has produced such a great general as GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE. Don't you think so, sah?" To his surprise, mortification, and indignation, the response was, I do; no, sah. I have no hear of GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE." Great heavens, never heard of GENERAL LEE!" "No, sah," the young Creole responded, and turning to his nearest companion said: "Alphonse, you hey hear of GEN-A-RAL ROBERT E. LEE, no?" "No, sah, I hev not." Turning to the next: "Julian, you hev hear of GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE, no?" "No, sah, I hev not; ah! tournez, tournez, I sink I hev hear GENERAL BO-GAR, spake well of 'im!" BEAUREGARD is the Creole's hero! The young Virginian left the club in disgust. (Turning to THRUSTON.) GATES, send copies of your speech, when printed, down to the Shakespeare Club.

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Now, my friends, there is to be a symposium after this meeting, and when I say this, my Comrades, I see your eyes glisten with delight. I shall not do any thing to keep you from it. Only, my Comrades, let me hold you for one moment till I perform a conscientious duty, and I assure you it is a very painful duty. There is here a member of your Society who passes in Toledo for a highly respectable citizen. He now sits on this platform (turns to GENERAL DOOLITTLE). As I turned round a moment ago, and saw him on this stage chatting with reputable members of our Society, and himself passing as such, old memories revived, and I thought of him as a man who had committed, and been convicted of, a great crime! There is the man-GENERAL CHAS. C. DOOLITTLE! I am a consci

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