I believe I have omitted no important detail of the reunion.  Each day was just like the preceding one.  Meetings and partings “tried men’s souls,” and women’s hearts were stirred to their depths.

At last the end came; afterwards to many painful reaction.  Still it was passing sweet to meet old friends and comrades, and to find that memory had not proven faithless to her trust.  For many a day in the future we shall stand in the light of the surpassing glory which streamed through as the curtain, which has so long obscured the past, was lifted again and again by tender, reverent hands, under the oaks at Dallas.

An Incident of the Dallas Reunion.[3]

    [3] Written at the time for the Shreveport paper by Colonel
    Henderson, a true and gallant soldier, who has since died.

(The scene here described is to me a “memory” passing sweet, and one which I desire to perpetuate.  This feeling is far removed from vanity.  Had the “Lost Cause” been triumphant, my lips would have been sealed as to my own service.  As it is, I glory in having served it, and cherish fondly even the slightest token that “my boys” do not forget me.)

“On the last day of the Southern Soldiers’ Reunion at Dallas, and when sentiments had been read in honor of this and that officer of distinction in the service of the Lost Cause, a lady occupying a somewhat retired position on the platform handed to General Gano a slip of paper on which was traced the following noble sentiment as read by General Gano in a clear, distinct voice, and in tones that expressed his entire concurrence.

“The sentiment and the name subscribed are sufficient of themselves.  We give it as follows: 

  “’THE PRIVATE SOLDIER OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES ARMY.

“’He bore in his bosom a heart of oak; he withstood the brunt of battle and sustained the heat and burthen of the day.  His blood nourished the laurels which otherwise had never bloomed to grace the brow of Lee and Jackson.  For myself, no blessing has ever crowned my life more highly prized than the God-given privilege I enjoyed during four years of the war, of ministering to the boys who wore the ragged, unornamented gray.

  “’Your devoted friend and comrade,

  “’MRS. FANNY A. BEERS,
  “‘Late of the Confederate Army.’

“To this sentiment came the response of three cheers and a regular rebel yell, repeated and repeated for the space of twenty minutes.

“But the most touching feature followed.  A number of old Confederate soldiers, who had in wounds and sickness received gentle and healing ministrations from the hands of Mrs. Beers, and learned just then that she was present, in defiance of all order, rushed to the stand and gathered about her.  Each and every one bore the mark of some wound received in the war, and wore about their person some fragment of Confederate uniform—­a hat, a coat, or other article—­as souvenirs of the days of trials and glory.