Excerpt from The Monitor of the Civil War, Vol. 8
The old ship Monitor has lain at the bottom of the sea these many decades. Her plans were crude; but her mission was large, and the hopes which she bore as a part of her armament have lived and grown with the passing of the years.
The tale set forth in the following pages was first told to me, one summer"s evening, as the old preacher and I stood looking at his garden. He was small, as stature goes, and his voice had weakened with illness and the coming of age. But as he unfolded that gallant tale, his voice became full and strong and he seemed to grow a giant in stature. He lived over again the scenes on board the Monitor, and he told the tale in so convincing a manner that it seemed that I too could see that eventful engagement with the Merrimac, feel the shock of shot pounding on the armor of the turret, - and finally, hear the roar of the wind and the sea, as they sang the death song of that little vessel.
Such tales are heritages which we cannot afford to lose. So long as our country has such hopes and ideals and such sons to support them, brave and gallant gentlemen all, from Lexington to Argonne Forest, so long will she stand firm through every peril - the true representative of real democracy.
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