Thursday, April 19, 1906
Page Two

(Note: The following was written before the recent visit of Mr. Atkinson to Talbotton)

A spirit of garrulity dominates me, and I am in a reminiscent mood. Two pictures are in my mind; one is the home of my boyhood, three miles east, and the other four miles south of Talbotton, Ga.

Were I again to visit those scenes, I would find few I once knew. Most of them have gone as voyagers over that sea, upon the crest of the waves a homeward bound sail has never seen.

Some perished amid the red glare of battle; others fell asleep surrounded by the weeping ones they loved.

It is now April, and how vividly is pictured Friday, the 26th day of that month in 1861, when Capt. B. Curled led from anguished mothers, sisters and friends, the Southern Rifles, the first company to leave home in defense of all our people held dear.

Dinner was served at the side of the Methodist church. My father led in fervent prayer, and Judge E.H. Worrill in a patriotic speech. First Augusta, then to Norfolk, and for the first battle array, the Fourth Georgia with Company A on the right, faced a hostile foe at seven pines.

Of the more than eighty who left, less than twenty returned, not bearing the trophies of victory, but bronze to a Spartan mother's breast, on as many glory shields. Of the many men of the older generation I knew in those days was Zacheriah Trice, a sturdy, uncompromising union man. If the old Baptist church yet stands in Talbotton, I could were I there, point to the seat he always occupied. Cold water and brandy were his only medicinal agents, and his great success in his ministrations to the sick, won for him a large clientele, and for his services he never charged a cent. He was a man of large means and could afford to practice gratis. He frequently received calls as far away as Augusta, Ga., and one I recall from South Carolina. He owned more than one hundred slaves and there were fourteen members of his own family, and his boast was that for ten years there was neither a death or a doctor in his home.

James Lennard is well remembered. One of his legs was stiff at the knee, and the old gentleman, in order to conceal his baldness, always tied his hair in a knot on the top of his head. He lived west of Talbotton about four miles, but his seat was never unoccupied when there were services at his church. His family and that of Jesse Carter were connected by marriage.

'Uncle Jesse', as he was familiarly called, was in 1860, an uncompromising Douglas man; but after Douglas went with Lincoln in 1861, he would have none of him. In the early part of Lincoln's administration Douglas died, and the next Sunday at the close of service, Mr. Carter was asked to lead in prayer. His first utterance was, 'O Lord, we thank Thee for the death of Douglas.' For a few moments the old gentleman's emotions overcame him so he could not proceed.

Thomas H. Persons was one of the leading citizens of Talbotton on those days. He was a merchant, a gentleman of the old school, and one who possessed the confidence and esteem of all who knew him, 'a combination and a form indeed, where ever God did seem to set his seal, to give the world assurance of a man.'

In this day of low commercial morality it is refreshing to recall the life and character of a man like Thomas H. Persons. 'Take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again.' Mrs. Henry Persons. I do not know whether the gracious lady, who in youth plighted her troth to Henry Persons, be yet by his side or not. Anyway, I send a greeting across the troubled years since 1859 to that benign presence, which left its impress then upon my childish vision. My father and I dined with her one day and when we went to our home I found a picture of Queen Victoria, taken when she was the virgin ruler of England. My father agreed with me that Mrs. Persons and Queen Victoria were strikingly alike.

Thomas Lumsden was my youthful ideal of the upright citizen and Christian gentleman. Any cause gained strength and popularity if it were known that Thomas Lumsden was its adherent.

Henry Leonard; I think, was his name. He was one of nature's nobility. I met him in the spring of 1865. I wonder if living, he yet recalls the time when he left an infant of a few hours old and came and camped by the roadside with two boys? His purpose was to protect us from any depredations, as the northern part of the county was then infested by desperate characters, but the boys did not know it. If yet living, I want to say to you, that, that one generous act made a hero of you then in my boyish imagination, and your memory has been cherished through all these years.

'Mr. Mac' and Mr. Gardner. Every Collingsworth boy of the later sixties knows who these were, and they were not known as 'professors', and this is a modern appellation for every 'a-b' ab and 'e-b' eb crossroads teacher. I am glad the students at the University of Virginia have dropped it. Mr. Gardner, I know, has long since gone to his reward. Where Mr. McLaughlin now is, or if he yet be in life, I do not know. While at Collingsworth, I learned to know and honor.

Walter B. Hill and Joe Bannerman two of the worthiest young men I have ever met. Both have crossed to the other side. Noble, manly, generous, Joe Bannerman, knighthood flowered again while you lived. You never chagrined another, or tortured with a cruel joke that you might smile at a brother's discomfiture.

Walter Hill, you showed by your life that the manliest thing beneath the stars was to be a humble follower of the meek and lowly Nazarene. Par nobilie fratrum, few loftier souls than yours ever wore earth about them.

Miss Sarah Carter is so well remembered. She was in the days of my youth one of the pillars of the Baptist church. She was one of God's elect. But space is wanting. I close wafting greetings to others, to Mizell, Smith, Proctor, Kimbrough, Tucker, Persons, Maxwell, Blunt, Dennis and to those not named who are legion.