What more resplendent record could man attain? What prouder fame be shouted down the ages?
His epitaph is written in the hearts of his people. His memory is enshrined in the love of a nation.
Let us leave him to repose.
DEDICATED TO HUMANITY.
From the “Sandersville Herald and Georgian.”
The usual joyous season of Christmas tide has been saddened by funeral dirges over the loss of Georgia’s gifted son. Since the death of the eloquent and lamented Ben Hill, the loss of no man has aroused deeper sorrow than Henry W. Grady. Greater demonstrations of grief with all the emblems of mourning were perhaps never before exhibited in Georgia. Memorial services were held not only in Atlanta, the city of his home, but throughout the State, voicing the great love of the people and their deep sense of the magnitude of his loss. More touching, beautiful eulogies and panegyrics have perhaps never been pronounced over the bier of any man.
The intensity of the admiration for Henry Grady grew out of the fact that his grand powers were all dedicated to the interests of humanity. His magic pen, that charmed while it instructed, that delighted while it moved, was laid under contribution to the good of his fellows. Eager for the development of his State and her resources, he traversed the lowlands of the South, and depicted her vast possibilities in the cultivation of fruits, melons, etc., that have added so much to her material wealth. Turning to the rock-ribbed mountains and hills of North Georgia he pointed out the vast treasures of iron ore, marble and coal, but waiting the hand of industry. In all sections he portrayed their resources, their fields for manufacturers, the importance and value of increased railroad transportation—in fact, leaving nothing undone that seemed to promise good and prosperity to his people.
The sunny heart which he always carried into his labors was his chief charm. The playful yet ardent spirit which he always had he seemed happily to be able to impart to others. Indeed, he seemed to be a gatherer of sunbeams, his blithe spirit seemed to sing,