The grasses in potter's field are beginning to show signs of green. The buds on the trees are opening. The birds are calling to their mates. But for them, it would seem silent as the tomb, indeed. When one wishes to philosophize, let him visit potter's field.
Every mound is a token, every rough slab is a forceful recollection.
These camps make provision for the helpless and needy Confederates within their reach, each one doing noble and most generous charity. They buy medicines for the sick, provide physicians, supply food and clothing and fuel and bury their indigent dead. It was the chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy of this city that raised the money and purchased the headstones for these graves. No Confederate can ever sleep in the Potter's field in Dallas or elsewhere if the Confederates know of his death. Dallas Times Herald, pp.