The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1908-12-09
JUDGE eULLocK'S ADDRESS

The following eloquent address was
! the presentation Of the loving cup TO
! Mrs. Fannie r. Gary. yesterday:
! Is tkis a dream as listen to the
! CHATTER Of the hOofs. rumbling noise Of
the wheels on the paved streets and
/ hear those familiar names of the days
( gone by and l look down the vista Of
/ time. ten, twenty. thirty, forty years
! oh, a half century ago. with magic
power it takes me back TO childhood's
hours, when with bare feet and tOus-
| led hair, with boyish fun l tumbled
and rolled in the deep sand bed
around the public square OF the Oldl
court house in Ocala.
| Truly, my friends, it seems a
dream. l can scarcely realize the
stern reality of truth. There are
/ things that We feel that we cannot
express, and as / stand before you
on this delightful occasion, when ev-
cry word, thought, act and deed is
! filled with inexpressible gratitude to
God for such manifestation of his
| ineStimable love toward us. / am
overcome. l am filled with such emo
ton that / cannot find words, the or
! binary and common vehicle of
| thought, TO speak 10 you. | know
| that / shall be unable to convey to
you the most infinitessimal concep-
| ton of how all of this ceremony has
! impressed me- Oh, what recOllec-
| tiOns, what "reminiscences, sweet and
bitter, in panoramic form passes be-
fore me on this occasion. The sweet
memories of childhood, the green pas
ture TO life. The old circle of friends
and families, their life and death. The
passing away of the old conditions as
We watch the unfolding Of the new.
The ebb in the tide of life runs on
and on. Life and death. What
theme for contemplation!
To many of you, my friends, this is
but a ceremony. You but honor a
worthy president With me it is diff
ferent. To me il Is a volume, a book
with many pages, an unwritten his
tory. To me it is a mirror rejecting
the images of those who have gone
on and passed over the hill of life,
and out of sight, but whose memories
I cherish in fondest recollection. By
the side of some Of these we have
walked and listened to their counsel.
/
ed in death. To some of them We are
listening still. They are still climb
ing, moving on and on, and at the
head of the same procession. tread
ing in the same paths Of life, toiling
in the same vineyard, waving the
same banner that they have proudly
borne for fifty years.
Comrades, friends, Daughters Of the
Confederacy, those names spoken in
my hearing with magic power take
me back to childhoods hour. Where
are those familiar faces and voices of
my childhood days, the voice OF Badg-
ier. DeBruhl, Mcconnell, Rodgers, Nc
Clure, Bullock. Gary. Martin, Dick
'son Long, Harris. and a score of 9TH
lers? Only here and there a tottering
frame. The large majority have join
ed their old comrades on that other
shore.
God bless those who are with us
still, and we will honor ourselves with
strewing the end of their path Of life
with roses of sweet perfume-of
honor, love and respect.
This OCCASION is not only one to
pay tribute of respect to those
noble patriots who bore the muskets
and Wore the uniforms, but emphat-
ically to honor that noble patriot
who stands at the head of the column
of patriots and to take part in these
exercises testifying our love, affection
and esteem of the matchless charac-
ter of Frances Rosa Gary.
Talk about patriotism; my friends,
it was the noble, pure women of our
loved Southland, that were true pa
triOts There was no beat of the
drum. nor rattle of the musketry, led
whoop of the comrade TO cheer the
patriot women as they stood at the
gate for the last farewell to husband
and son as they marched from home
for the last time. But amidst the
stern realities of truth. the loneliness
OF home, when the shadow of the
evening was come, when the song
bird had ceased its music. when
faint flicker of home made candle
burned dimly in the corner, or per
chance a few burning embers from
the old fire place reflected a shadOwy
ray across the bare coarse floor
there were prattling, innocent sweet
faced babies gathered around her
knee. They could with sincerity. truth
and resignation say. Father. thy will
be done This is patriotism. second
only To the patriotism of the Prince
of Peace. whose pure life was poured
out for our transgressions.
In 1864. when | was a little boy
eight years old, | saw this same noble
patriot woman we honor today. then
81 years of age, sweet young woman.
then in the beauty. prime and vigor
of womanhood. with that Christian