th is indeed
stranger than fiction. Think of it! What could be stranger? There we
met, both dead, each of us presenting to the other the most absolute
proof of the resurrection of the dead.

But stranger still, perhaps, is the friendship true and lasting begun
under such auspices. What could be further removed from the realms of
probabilities than a confiding friendship between combatants, which is
born on the field of blood, amidst the thunders of battle, and while the
hostile legions rush upon each other with deadly fury and pour into
each other's breasts their volleys of fire and of leaden hail. Such were
the circumstances under which was born the friendship between Barlow and
myself, and which I believe is more sincere because of its remarkable
birth, and which has strengthened and deepened with the passing years.
For the sake of our reunited and glorious Republic may we not hope that
similar ties will bind together all the soldiers of the two
armies--indeed all Americans in perpetual unity until the last bugle
call shall have summoned us to the eternal camping grounds beyond the
stars?

THE NEW SOUTH

Address by Henry W. Grady, journalist [born in Athens, Ga., May 17,
1851; died in Atlanta, Ga., December 23, 1889], delivered at the
eighty-first anniversary celebration of the New England Society in
the city of New York, December 22, 1886.

MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN:--"There was a South of slavery and
secession--that South is dead. There is a South of union and
freedom--that South, thank God, is living, breathing, growing every
hour." These words, delivered from the immortal lips of Benjamin H.
Hill, at Tammany Hall in 1866, true then, and truer now, I shall make my
text to-night.

Let me express to you my appreciation of the kindness by which I am
permitted to address you. I make this abrupt acknowledgment advisedly,
for I feel that if, when I raise my provincial voice in this ancient and
august presence, I could find courage for no more than the opening
sentence, it would be well if, in that sentence, I had met in a rough
sense my obligation as a guest, and had perished, so to speak, with
courtesy on my lips and grace in my heart. Permitted through your
kindness to catch my second wind, let me say that I appreciate the
significance of being the first Southerner to speak at this board, which
bears the substance, if it surpasses the semblance, of original New
England hospitality a