When I was younger than I am
now, I spent whole hours in studying
the "Hermit," by Goldsmith,
and in working my feelings up to
believe with him, that it was possible
for a man to so give way to
his impulses of remorse, as to
make him lose all faith in humankind,
and seek the caves and
deserts of the earth, with scarcely
a desire to live, and without the
courage to die, but riper years
bring serious doubts, whether that
person ever lived who saw no
good in men ; but if Goldsmith
was right, and such a character as
he draws should stumble upon
these records one who would not
stretch forth his hand to snatch
from oblivion the most gifted product
of the human brain to bless
the comine aires ; I say, if there '
be such a man, and he has not
yet passed the boundary of hope,
for his own good he should repair
to yonder hill, and read on the
tablets there the silent plaudits to
well spent lives ; and after having
been awakened to a serious apprehension
of a more exalted existence,
he should seat himself with
Col. Tom Ford's immortal poem
in his hand, beneath the shadow
of the State monument, whose
symmetrical shaft is covered on all
sides with deeds of honor, performed
by men reserved by fate
for a glorious manhood, and there
learn and resolve to imitate those
graces of character and virtues of
life found, approved and recorded
even on the tomb. Such a man
could read with profit, on such an
occasion, the wonderful ode to
"our city of the dead," which you
will hear read so eloquently today
by Miss Nannie Browder, and
in contemplating the scenes
around him, be brought to realize,
in some degree at least, the
truth of the couplet, that
"Glory guards and genius weeps
WlieieTheoiIoie O'll.ua sleeps"
Such are some of the rich treasures
found in these records. In
the name, and by the authority of
the present generation of living
people, they are now handed over
to your keeping, but generations
yet unborn will demand of you
and of your successors, their pres
ervation and their proper use.
