The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-04-27

their days before them and the tumult of their life for scared veterans, who had followed him through days of suffering, nights of sorrow.
 Even then he spent no days in un- availing sorrow, no nights in useless re- pining. In the college, forever ennobled because it bears his name. he counselled the young manhood of the south that when dreams of victory have melted away in the dawn of defeat. it is the part of lofty souls to wipe away the burning tear to look with bright vision toward the morrow and to bow in knightly reverence to the will of God. He bade them culti- vate the arts of peace, learn the litera- lures which the centuries have transmit ted, master thoughts that soar to the pin nacle of human wisdom and revere the memories of other days by making them incentives to live according to the com mands of enlightened conscience and the purposes of Jehovah.
 "In a great oak forest at Chancellors- vile stands d monument that marks the spot where Thomas Jefferson Jackson fell. The stone bears legends, the words
  command, Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees. From the time when Jackson broke down in prayer in the Presbyterian church at Lex ington, Va, and yet declared that he would conquer such timidity, until the sad night when four lieutenants bore him stricken from the field, he gave to his- tory one of the noblest characters that the world has ever seen. Winning tri- umphs that would have honored a Ma poleon, he gave to God the praise and bowed in lovely reverence before his cap tain, Christ.
 Live on, leaders, live,
 While time shall count it's years, And then at last in heaven above
 Dwell mighty mid your peers.
 Nor Greece, nor Rome, nor land fresh
 born,
 Nor gray with age,
 Has written names of heroes nobler yet
 On history's burning page
 And our land had other leaders, so many and so brave that the wings of fame grew weary as she bore them to the stars.
 The Southern Soldier.
 What of the lesser officers and the private soldiers of the south? They were no mereenaries such as swelled the armies of Carthage; no barbarians such as fol- lowed the eagles of Rome as they screamed defiance from the shores of the German ocean to the sands of the Lybian desert.
 "To whom shall we liken these sol diers of the south? Most do they resemble the men of republican Rome, when stern virtue ruled their lives, when the fires of patriotism ever burned upon it's altarsi most are they like unto the men of Attn ems and Sparta, when the age of Pericles gave glory to Greece, when Leonidas an1 his soldiers at Thermopylae awaited, grave and stern, the outset of the Per sian host awaited too death and the graves of heroes most do they resemble the men of enthralled Hungary and dis membered Poland, conquered, yet never enslaved.
 "These men of ours boys in the bloom of youth, men in the meridian power of life, old men under the burden of the years, left the old homeland left the clinging arms of mother, wife, children, to go to the march. the bivouac, and the battle For four years these men in the old slouched hats, in tattered gray, in broken shoes, hungry, sick, weary, but men who shamed with courage the lion about to spring upon his victim; the eagle sweeping down from hlJ Nmountain crag upon his prey, followed where duty showed the way and led where glory beck oned onward.
 AS they sleep this quiet Sabbath day. we may speak to them in words graven on a granite shaft in another southern city:
 Come from the four winds o Breath, And breathe upon these slain, That they may live,
 Resting at last in the glorious land Where the white flag of peace is never
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