THE DEBT WE OWE

39_wyeth_drums_chapter28

Or as Abraham Lincoln once put it:

The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

We can’t let this republic die, murdered by a tyrant.  We just can’t.

Illustration by N. C. Wyeth.

Click on the image to enlarge.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>