At seventeen years of age William McKinley heard this summons of his country.  He was the sort of youth to whom a military life in ordinary times would possess no attractions.  His nature was far different from that of the ordinary soldier.  He had other dreams of life, its prizes and pleasures, than that of marches and battles.  But to his mind there was no choice or question.  The banner floating in the morning breeze was the beckoning gesture of his country.  The thrilling notes of the trumpet called him—­him and none other—­into the ranks.  His portrait in his first uniform is familiar to you all—­the short, stocky figure; the quiet, thoughtful face; the deep, dark eyes.  It is the face of a lad who could not stay at home when he thought he was needed in the field.  He was of the stuff of which good soldiers are made.  Had he been ten years older he would have entered at the head of a company and come out at the head of a division.  But he did what he could.  He enlisted as a private; he learned to obey.  His serious, sensible ways, his prompt, alert efficiency soon attracted the attention of his superiors.  He was so faithful in little things that they gave him more and more to do.  He was untiring in camp and on the march; swift, cool and fearless in fight.  He left the army with field rank when the war ended, brevetted by President Lincoln for gallantry in battle.

In coming years when men seek to draw the moral of our great Civil War, nothing will seem to them so admirable in all the history of our two magnificent armies as the way in which the war came to a close.  When the Confederate army saw the time had come, they acknowledged the pitiless logic of facts and ceased fighting.  When the army of the Union saw it was no longer needed, without a murmur or question, making no terms, asking no return, in the flush of victory and fulness of might, it laid down its arms and melted back into the mass of peaceful citizens.  There is no event since the nation was born which has so proved its solid capacity for self-government.  Both sections share equally in that crown of glory.  They had held a debate of incomparable importance and had fought it out with equal energy.  A conclusion had been reached—­and it is to the everlasting honor of both sides that they each knew when the war was over and the hour of a lasting peace had struck.  We may admire the desperate daring of others who prefer annihilation to compromise, but the palm of common sense, and, I will say, of enlightened patriotism, belongs to the men like Grant and Lee, who knew when they had fought enough for honor and for country.