Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 26.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

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[186] when we fail to tell that the beauty of roses paled and ‘morning sunbeams cast shadows’ in presence of the bloom on the cheek and the light in the eye of the homespun clad girls of Dixie.

Some years ago I had the honor to offer some remarks at the opening of the bazaar, inaugurated by the ladies of the Memorial Association to further the erection of this splendid monument. For years without remuneration or recompense other than the consciousness of a noble duty, these noble ladies have been working for this good day.

Somewhere I have read ‘that it is more blessed to give than to receive.’ That Divine utterance had a sacred illustration when Woman anointed the head of the Saviour, and washed his feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair.

Humanity, I speak reverently, can make no nearer approach to it, than woman's sacrifice on the altar of unselfish devotion.

The gentle footpace, the soft touch, the tender words—oil on grieving wounds—the balm of consolation to breaking hearts, have enshrined the names of Florence Nightingale and Clara Barton in the hearts of humanity.

So, inspired by generous impulse, these noble women of the Memorial Association have enshrined in granite and bronze, the memory of the Confederate dead; that memory will be green when granite has crumbled and bronze has corroded, around the apex of that splendid shaft, kissed by the first rays of the rising sun, there will forever linger a halo, in memory of the loving hands that reared this shaft and of the unselfish devotion that inspired it. They have reared a noble monument to the memory of the Confederate dead, and in doing so, have safely perpetuated their own glorious memory and worth.

At the conclusion of Colonel Sanford's eloquent words, Miss Gorman sang ‘Dixie,’ in a sweet voice, to the accompaniment of the Second Regiment band.