The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1897-06-25
GOV. TAYLOR'S ADDRESS.
He Welcomes the Old Con-
federate Veterans
at Nashville.

Ladies and Gentlemen-Why need
say welcome to the men of the
South? Every heart in Tennessee
throbs a welcome to you, and every
loyal home smiles a welcome. |
think if | could draw back the veil
which separates Immortality from
this vale of tears, you would see a
vision of your old comrades, who
have answered to the roll call of eter-
nifty, crowding the air, and you
would hear them shout, welcome,
thrice welcome!
l love to live III the land of Dixie,
under the soft Southern skies, where
summer pours out her flood of sun
shine and showers, and the grateful
earth smiles with plenty. l love to
live on Southern soil, where the
cotton fields wave their white ban
ners of peace, and where the wheat
fields wave back their banners of
gold from the hills and valleys which
were once drenched with the blood
of heroes. | love to live where the
hooking birds fiutter and sing in the
shadowy coves and bright waters
ripple in eternal melody by the
graves where our heroes are buried
/ love to breathe Southern air that
comes filtered through jungles of rO-
SEES whispering the story of Southern
deeds of bravery. | love to drink
from the Southern springs andSouth-
ern babbling brooks which once
cooled the lips of Lee and Jackson
and Forrest and Gordon, and the
worn and weary columns of brave
men who wore the gray. | love to
live among Southern men and wO-
men where every heart is as warm
as the Southern sunshine, and every
home is a temple of love and liberty.
| love to listen to the sweet old
Southern melodies which touch the
soul and melt the heart and awaken
to life ten thousand precious mem
cries of the happy long ago, when
the old-time darkeys used to laugh
and sing, and when the old-time
black nanny soothed the children
to slumber with her lullabies. But,
oh, the music that thrills me most
is the melody that died away on
the lips of many Confederate sol
dier as he sank into that sleep that
knows no waking:
81 am glad / am IN Dixie"
/ doubt if the world will ever see
another civilization as brilliant as
that which persisted in the South a
third of century ago. It's white
columred mansions under cool,
spreading groves, its orange trees
waving their sprays of snowy bios
SONS, and its cotton fields stretching
away to the horizon alive with toll
ing slaves who sang as they toiled
from early morn until the close of
day; its pomp and pride ana revel-
ry; its splendid manhood and the
dazzling beauty of its women, placed
it in history as the high tide of
earthly glory. But the hurricane
of civil war shattered it and swept
it away. Billions of wealth dissolv-
ed and vanished in smoke and flame.
| The South lost all save honor. But
the Confederate soldier, the purest
and proudest type of the AnglO-Sax-
on race, stood erect amid its charred
and blackened ruins. The earth
was red beneath him, the sky was
black above him, his sword was
broken, his country was crushed.
But without a throne he was no less
a ruler; his palace had persisted, he
was no less a king. Slavery was
dead; magnificent in the gloom of
defeat, he was still a master. Has
he not mastered adversely? Has he
not rebuilt the ruined South?
Look yonder at those flashing
domes and glittering spires; look at
the works of art and all the fabrics
and pictured tapestries of beauty.
Look what Southern brains and
Southern hands have wrought. See
the victories of peace we have won,
all represented within the white
columns of our great Industrial Elk
position, and you will receive an in
spiration of the old South, and you
will catch glimpses of her future
glory.
| trust in God that the struggles
of the future will be the struggles
of peace and not of war. The hand
of secession will never be lifted up
again. The danger to the republic
now lies in the mailed hand of CEN
tralized power, and the South will
yet be the bulwark of American lib
erty. If you ask me why, l answer,
it is the only section left which is
purely American; answer that an
archy cannot live on Southern soil;
answer that the South has started
on a new line of march, and while
we love the past for its precious
memories, our faces are turned to-
wards the morning.
Time has furled the battle flags
and smelted the hostile gun. Time
has torn down the forts and leveled
the trenches and rihe-pits on the