co-heirs in the greatest civilization which the world has ever seen. We are the same in blood, in race, and in traditions. Together we have blazed out the broadest path in the world's civilization. Together we have builded a government more glorious than any ever touched by human hands or inspired by human thought. Together we have stood in the ranks in the defence of its eternal principles. Then, sir, as a people united not alone by the bonds of mere governmental measures, but by the better and dearer ties of a people necessary to each other, appreciating, understanding, and ministering to each other.

"In the room

Of this grief-shadowed present, there shall be
A Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw
The heart, and never shall a tender tie

Be broken! in whose reign the eternal Change
That waits on growth and action shall proceed
With everlasting Concord hand in hand.”

But yesterday the sweet voice of Henry Grady was hushed, and every patriot mourned the loss of him who was binding together the broken bonds and healing the wounds yet not closed. In the city of Buffalo last month the one upon whom his mantle has fallen and whose lips are attuned to the sweetness of that great follower of Him who said, "Love your enemies and bless them that curse you," teaching the sweetness of love, of faith, and of hope, in touching and tender

words pictured the faith of the toiler in the fields as the sweet bells of the Angelus came through the glory of the autumn sunset summoning his soul to prayer ere the evening of the day. Many of us have been touched and helped by the holy significance of the spirit of the simple faith breathed by the Angelus and so beautifully interpreted by the great orator. When reading his sweet words where he so aptly taught the faith and hope of the lowly workman, there arose to my mind a picture teaching to me a far holier and sweeter lesson than that of the bowed toiler of the Angelus. It hangs in a little cottage home in the Blue Ridge of Virginia under the fragrant shade of the whispering pines, where the mountain and the valley gently touch and kiss each other into kindness. The simple picture has none of the surroundings of the Angelus, no mellowed, artful light, no golden frame, no thrill of reverent obeisance for the dead painter who so wonderfully interpreted for mankind the sweet spirit of Faith and Hope. Its frame is formed of the brown birchen bark, and decorated with the cone of the mountain pine. It was not created by the cunning hand of a great painter, but it is a simple wood-cut, representing a broken mountain plain in the gray morning of an April day. In the misty foreground there stands an army of men, with want and sorrow pinching and distressing them, with their ragged gray uniforms hanging in tatters from their gaunt forms, with bowed heads and swimming eyes, with ruin and disaster surrounding

ΤΟ

them like grim phantoms. Over beyond them is a gray-eyed man with his slouch hat in his hand. It is Grant at Appomattox, and he is saying to Lee's broken army, there will be no Roman triumphs, no passing under the yoke, no humiliation, no imprisoning. “Men, go home and take your horses with you. You will need them to put in your crops." Great commander ! splendid leader! friend of the South! whose memory will ever sit enshrined in the hearts of the sons of Lee's ragged soldiers at Appomattox. Before the picture of this exceeding charity the notes of the Angelus grow soft,

"Your voices break and falter in the darkness,

Break, falter, and are still,"

and touch but gently the souls of those, who, bowing their heads, wait for the inspiration which comes from their mellow cadence. The Angelus teaches Faith and Hope, but the little woodcut, resting under the benison of the Blue Virginia mountains, voices a Charity beyond compare. "And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, these three, but the greatest of these is charity." Gathering the spirit of the great commander and holding the glory of his exceeding charity before us as an inspiration and guide, let us consecrate ourselves to the immolation of the wounds and sorrows and uncharities of the sad old past on the glowing and rekindled altars of a re-united Nation. For, oh, my brothers, there is something that we of the South de

sire that is more boundless than your commerce, richer by far than your gold and silver and your gems, more yearned for by us than your broad harbors filled with the ladened ships of the nations, and more priceless to us than the fruit of your looms and your shops and your manufactories. Something before which gross utilitarianism and materialism are but ashes and dust. We want your love. Ours in all of its plenitude and richness we freely give to you, and withhold of it not a jot or a tittle. The winds to-night, whispering over the mountains of my far-away Southern home, softly sing of our boundless charity and love. The sweet Southern sun has long ago kissed away the crimson stains from our fields, and our hearts are as redolent of charity and love as the magnolia and the lily are of their sweetness and perfume. The nodding cotton ball and the meadows richly green are fast covering the rent and hurt of war. The great heart of the South is full and yearns for its once estranged brother with a love that passeth all understanding. Our old battle flags are laid away in that hallowed ark of the household where lie the faded glove, the old lace collar, the worn garments, the little keepsakes, the lock of hair of our mothers, and the little worn child's shoe with sweet enchantment bringing to memory's silent halls the lullaby of little feet, and on those sacred days when with reverent hands we tenderly touch them and gently smooth away the wrinkles of time, the faint odor of rosemary and lavender breathes only of love and ten

derness. With outstretched hands, we of the South ask your love, your charity, and tenderness, and within the touch of the most memorial year when we on the battle-fields of the nation have commingled the consecrated blood of the North and the South, upon whomsoever for partisan purposes, or private or political gain, would rekindle the fires of sectional hate, we would invoke the thunders of Him who holds the nations in the hollow of His hand. Then, my brothers, with your strong arms about the South, strengthened, encouraged, united, and glorified, the world would hear the majestic and solemn tread of a free and constitutionloving people carrying its civilization and commerce and its religion to the nations of the uttermost parts of the earth. Without irreverence, with this great glory trembling upon us, in the words of the old Prophet of the Most High, "Behold thou shalt call a nation that thou knowest not, and a nation that knew not thee shall run unto thee, because of the Lord thy God, and for the Holy One of Israel, for he hath glorified thee."