From the “Union News.”
Hon. Henry W. Grady, of the Constitution, died at his home in Atlanta this morning at 3:40.
This cruel blow shivers every heart with agony, even as the thunderbolt of heaven rends the mighty monarch of the forest.
His death is a loss to Georgia. Every man feels it as a personal bereavement. He has done more for the material development of the State than any other one man in it. He was an enthusiast in the cause of education, an upholder of the church, an advocate of industrial training, a promoter of every enterprise calculated to benefit Georgia and her people. He was a friend to humanity, true to himself, to his country and to his God.
The most brilliant light in Southern journalism is veiled in darkness—a manly heart has ceased to beat; the tongue that has electrified thousands with magic eloquence is silent forever; the fingers that wielded the pen of genius and never traced a line in bitterness or malice, but was always uplifted in behalf of charity, love and good will, in behalf of progress, industry and enterprise, in behalf of the South and her institutions, his State and her people, are cold in death; the once warm hand of benevolence and fraternal greeting is chilled forever; a golden life is ended, but his works live after him, as a priceless heritage to his State, a boon to his people. The influence of his example pervades the State as a delightful aroma.
The dispensations of Providence are mysterious. It is strange fate, past all human understanding, why so excellent a spirit, a man of so much influence, should be cut down in the glory of his life, in the richest prime of his royal manhood.
Only a few days ago he stood in a blaze of glory in a Northern city and electrified thousands by his matchless oratory, in the presentation of a question that did the South great good and justice, and did much to soften the animosities of the North toward the South, and establish more fraternal relations between the two sections. But even while the plaudits of the admiring multitude were ringing in his ears, and the press of the country was singing his praises, the fatal hand of disease was laid upon him, and he was brought back to his own sunny and beloved Southland to die.
Mr. Grady was a popular idol. He was destined to reap the highest political honors in the State. His name was being prominently mentioned in connection with the Governorship and Senatorship of Georgia. Democratic leaders sought his favor. His influence was felt throughout the entire State. His support was an omen of success.
Ben Hill died, and his place has never been supplied in Georgia. Mr. Grady approached nearer to it than any other man. Now Mr. Grady is gone, and his duplicate cannot be found in the State. No man in recent years could so attract the eye and fasten the attention of the North. The death of no other Georgian at this time would have been so calamitous.