Reverence is the measure not of others but of ourselves. This assemblage
on the one hundred and forty-third anniversary of the Battle of Bunker
Hill tells not only of the spirit of that day but of the spirit of
to-day. What men worship that will they become. The heroes and holidays
of a people which fascinate their soul reveal what they hold are the
realities of life and mark out a line beyond which they will not
retreat, but at which they will stand to overcome or die. They who
reverence Bunker Hill will fight there. Your true patriot sees home and
hearthstone in the welfare of his country.

Rightly viewed, then, this day is set apart for an examination of
ourselves by recounting the deeds of the men of long ago.

What was there in the events of the seventeenth day of June, 1775,
which holds the veneration of Americans and the increasing admiration of
the world? There are the physical facts not too unimportant to be
unworthy of reiteration even in the learned presence of an Historical
Society. A detachment of men clad for the most part in the dress of
their daily occupations, standing with bared heads and muskets grounded
muzzle down in the twilight glow on Cambridge Common, heard Samuel
Langdon, President of Harvard College, seek divine blessing on their
cause and marched away in the darkness to a little eminence at
Charlestown, where, ere the setting of another sun, much history was to
be made and much glory lost and won. When a new dawn had lifted the
mists of the Bay, the British, under General Howe, saw an intrenchment
on Breed's Hill, which must be taken or Boston abandoned. The works were
exposed in the rear to attack from land and sea. This was disdained by
the king's soldiers in their contempt for the supposed fighting ability
of the Americans. Leisurely, as on dress parade, they assembled for an