Of his private life all may speak. We know it well. It is familiar to us all as household words, though his charity and his kindness were without ostentation. He was generous without stint, and whether it was as the boy making up a fund to buy a poor schoolmate a handsome suit to graduate in, or as the man lending a helping hand to lift or guide the needy, self was forgotten in his kindness to others. In thousands of homes he will be
Named softly as the household name
Of one whom God has taken.
His city, his State, and his country will build for him a shaft, but his greatest monument will be in the hearts that mourn his death.
A great and loving soul has passed.
IN MEMORIAM.
From the “Henry County Times.”
The public heart, still quivering and aching from the shock occasioned by the death of its venerated and talented leader, Jefferson Davis, had its cup of woe and grief filled to overflowing by those words of doom—“Henry Grady is dead.” In the natural course of events, the first catastrophe was one that might have happened any time in the past ten years, as the great Confederate chief had long since passed the limit of three-score-and-ten, the average limit attached by Biblical authority to human life. Mr. Davis descended to his grave full of years and honors, and while he was universally and sincerely mourned in the South, still, it did not fall upon us with that electric suddenness which so shocked and agonized the Southern heart as when our young Demosthenes became a victim to the fell destroyer.