The last name on their lips.
When Stonewall Jackson was dying, when his senses had ceased to respond to the scenes around him, and his thoughts were with his brave troops, and he was once more in imagination at the head of his invincible corps, he called the name of the commander of the ‘Light Division’ on whom he had never called in vain: and ‘Tell A. P. Hill to prepare for action’ fell from his dying lips. And in General Lee's last hours, when his mind reverted to the stirring scenes of his military career, and once more he rode at the [386] head of his armies, directing their movements he, too, called upon the commander of the Third corps, on whose strength he had so often leaned in the hour of peril, and his last command was ‘Tell A. P. Hill he must come up.’ In personal appearance General Hill was about five feet ten inches high, slightly but perfectly formed, and looked every inch a soldier born to command. His features were regular and his face attractive but not handsome. His every posture and movement was full of grace, and in any dress, however remote from camps, his military bearing and martial step would betray the soldier by birth and by training. He was a splendid horseman and was always well mounted. He was simple in his taste and dressed plainly but neatly, preferring the ease and comfort of his fatigue jacket to his general's uniform with its stars and its wreath. He cared little for the pride and pomp of war, and commonly went attended by a single staff-officer or courier. As has been so well said by another: ‘In all his career he never advanced a claim or maintained a rivalry. The soul of honor and of generosity, he was ever engaged in representing the merits of others.’ Of all the Confederate leaders he was the most genial and lovable in his disposition. And now our task is done, but the memories of the past cluster thick around us, and we could linger on this spot for hours talking with comrades. Of this warrior tried and true,Who bore the flag of a nation's trust,
And fell in a cause, though lost; still just;
And died for me and you.
Loved comrade, brilliant soldier, chivalrous spirit, true-hearted friend, accomplished gentleman, ardent patriot—Ambrose Powell Hill, we dedicate this monument to thy memory as a feeble token of the love of old comrades and a faint expression of the admiration of the Southern people, for whom you fought and died so bravely. We hail thee as a hero! worthy of a monument in this historic city by the side of thy great commanders, Lee and Jackson; and fit companion for him who was ‘first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.’ Greater honors than this has no man received, and none greater can any man aspire to.
