The state chronicle. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1883-1893, 1889-12-06

blood to waste in hero worship. They are
not hero worshippers. They are men of
action and caution and with little senti-
ment. Their acceptance of the Constitu-
tion proved this, their lack Of effusion
over their great men now prove it; they
are co ored with the Cromwell tint. they
are b.. I'd headed, common -sensed, men of
conviction. nnforgetting, unenthusiastic,
except over colossal events. with a large
bump of action and a small bump of sen
timent, though love runs deep in them
ALL
Well, what going to and fro there was,
and corn whiskey was not slighted.
There was much merriness and toddy
drinking, but as Sergeant Jetton tells me
there was not a single case of breaking of
the peace Men were packed everywhere
within the open arms of the old town.
Fourteen IN my room at the Lafayette!
On entering, a tight wag invited me in
saying "You are 81" ''31 let me intro
duce you to S. He kept us all up until
nearly three in the morning, he taking
drink nearly every ten minutes, and call
ing each time on sleeping %, or II or 43,
or some other number to join him. Under
meath, down stairs, the bar went bowling
with belated young swells who had not
The city was brilliant as an old city
could be, and the Marine Band from
Washington was glorious and unsurpass-
ing in its varied music. Vance and Dixie
were the only things that got good live
hurrah from the crowds.
Amid the surging crowd in the court of
the Lafayette which, by the bye, is fine
hotel, stood a tall man with little boy
His eyes were out and on his breast hung
placard with this legend: "a Blind Con-
federate Soldier God save the State,
thought l, to have it's veterans begging!
1t touched my heart as nothing else has
touched it for some time, and ''thlnks l."
! am poor myself, bHt I'll split my pile in
two, and so l did, and l say this at the
risk of delicacy to give witness that my
hand went with my heart. He probably
wasn't much, bent down by the freside
at home, but he was the head of the fami-
ly and the bread winner when he was on
inspection among true men, for not
man passed him hardly without donation,
and the old fellow must have cotton in
right smart, and thank God for it, if his
State did let him beg it.
There were sixty-six marshalls as aids
to Julian S. Carr. Chief Marshal, among
them Joe Caldwell, Dave Vance and Matt
Ransom, il. The parade WAS an inspir-
ing one, an the little Davis Institute
boys stepped out brayely among the older
companies.
Fayetteville Undertook great task and
did her work wei Fayetteville is small
town and had large and varied crowd
| did not hear complaint Her hospital
ity seemed to suit every want of the
guests. and hundred years hence, hope
she will be there with another celebration
Of such credit to herself. Before | close
| do not want TO forget mention Of Ran
SONS exquisite tribute to Davis at the
close of his speech. nor yet the prayer of
the old Episcopalian clergyman which was
as eloquent an ADDRESS to the Almighty
as Ransom's was to the people, if not
more so. Nor again, must | fail to men
tion jeff Davis's letter, which is printed
i'll another column. 1t bears the polish
s.ad power Of The man, and thou.h doI't
think that JEFF Davis or the Confederacy
had anything rightly TO do with this Ma
tional Celebration, still Southern men ap-
preciate liberty all the more for their ex-
perience in their fight, and my intellect
fell fat in the face OF my heart when
they and Jeff came forward in speech.
Jeff Davis is great ruin. kuskln has said
he did not like America b cause it was a
land without ruins. Davis Is one. He is
an eloquent ruin, and has toppled from
dtion of a new stone and with the vines
of poetic decay now clinging around him.
To change the figure, looked with pecu
liar feeling once upon the crumblng mis-
sion in Southern California The bells
have been taken away and swing afar off
with the stroke of their tongue all the
mellower for the age of them. All! the
mellowness of those mission bells! In
jeff Davis's letter We have another tongue
stroke against the true metal of an old
belief the tones are still mellow as the
mission bell, though the once gathering
votaries are scattered and dead. The
cause of the South is crumbled like the
old pile in the Arcadian Valley, but the
tongue of the old bell rings and still is
music, and amid bustling and newer
life we listen and say it is sweet, and for
get not the melody and sacredness of past
memories. because we are mindful now
only of the music of the Union.
w. &c.