HEROES OF THE NAVY
T. DeWitt Talmage
James, 3: 4: " Behold also the ships."
IF this exclamation was appropriate about eighteen
hundred and seventy-two years ago, when it was
written concerning the crude fishing smacks that sailed
Lake Galilee, how much more appropriate in an age
which has launched from the dry docks for purposes
of peace the Oceanic of the White Star Line, the
Lucania of the Cunard Line, the St. Louis of the Ameri-
can Line, the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse of the North-
German Lloyd Line, the Augusta Victoria of the Ham-
burg-American Line; and in an age, which, for pur-
poses of war, has launched the screw-sloops like the
Idaho, the Shenandoah, the Ossipee, and our ironclads
like the Kalamazoo, the Roanoke, and the Dunderberg,
and those which have already been buried in the deep
like the Monitor, the Housatonic, and the Weehawken,
the tempests ever since sounding a volley over
their watery sepulchres, and the Oregon and
the Brooklyn, and the Texas, and the Olympia,
the Iowa, the Massachusetts, the Indiana, the
New York, the Marietta, of the last war, and
the scarred veterans of war shipping, like the
Constitution, or the Alliance, or the Constellation that
have swung into the naval yards to spend their last
days, their decks now all silent of the feet that trod
them, their rigging all silent of the hands that clung
to them, their port-holes silent of the brazen throats
that once thundered out of them. If in the first cen-
tury, when war vessels were dependent on the oars that
paddled at the side of them for propulsion, my text
was suggestive, with how much more emphasis and
meaning and overwhelming reminiscence we can cry
out, as we see the Kearsarge lay across the bows of
the Alabama and sink it, teaching foreign nations
they had better keep their hands off our American
fight, or as we see the ram Albemarle of the Confed-
erates running out and in the Roanoke, and up and
down the coast, throwing everything ...
T. DeWitt Talmage
James, 3: 4: " Behold also the ships."
IF this exclamation was appropriate about eighteen
hundred and seventy-two years ago, when it was
written concerning the crude fishing smacks that sailed
Lake Galilee, how much more appropriate in an age
which has launched from the dry docks for purposes
of peace the Oceanic of the White Star Line, the
Lucania of the Cunard Line, the St. Louis of the Ameri-
can Line, the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse of the North-
German Lloyd Line, the Augusta Victoria of the Ham-
burg-American Line; and in an age, which, for pur-
poses of war, has launched the screw-sloops like the
Idaho, the Shenandoah, the Ossipee, and our ironclads
like the Kalamazoo, the Roanoke, and the Dunderberg,
and those which have already been buried in the deep
like the Monitor, the Housatonic, and the Weehawken,
the tempests ever since sounding a volley over
their watery sepulchres, and the Oregon and
the Brooklyn, and the Texas, and the Olympia,
the Iowa, the Massachusetts, the Indiana, the
New York, the Marietta, of the last war, and
the scarred veterans of war shipping, like the
Constitution, or the Alliance, or the Constellation that
have swung into the naval yards to spend their last
days, their decks now all silent of the feet that trod
them, their rigging all silent of the hands that clung
to them, their port-holes silent of the brazen throats
that once thundered out of them. If in the first cen-
tury, when war vessels were dependent on the oars that
paddled at the side of them for propulsion, my text
was suggestive, with how much more emphasis and
meaning and overwhelming reminiscence we can cry
out, as we see the Kearsarge lay across the bows of
the Alabama and sink it, teaching foreign nations
they had better keep their hands off our American
fight, or as we see the ram Albemarle of the Confed-
erates running out and in the Roanoke, and up and
down the coast, throwing everything ...
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