Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 26.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

From a period of dreary, rainy weather, yesterday dawned crisp and clear as if nature had lent her auspices to the unveiling ceremonies. Visitors had come to Montgomery from all over the South to witness the exercises. The Ladies' Memorial Association had arranged an impressive programme and nothing occurred to mar its rendition.

Tasteful floral decorations had been arranged around the pedestal of the monument, and benches were erected for the accommodation of 2,000 persons. But the assemblage that had gathered at noon stretched from the northern wing of the capitol to the northernmost edge of the hill.

The bright colors of the women's gowns, the crimson sashes and immaculate white dresses of the pretty sponsors and the gaudy trappings of the militia combined in lending to the situation a gala aspect. But the solemnity of the occasion was breathed in the speeches of the orators, was reflected in the earnest faces of the gathering and was told all too plainly by the purposes of the programme.

Now and then something occurred to stir to enthusiasm the aching hearts of grizzled veterans who had assembled to pay homage to the memory of dead comrades. Some telling phrase in an oration or an irresistable bar from ‘Dixie’ would bring to these mourning patriots a fancy of ‘those other days.’ At such moments, tears glistened in sad eyes or the ‘rebel yell’ resounded.

On the temporary platform, erected between the capitol and the monument, were stationed the members of the Ladies' Memorial Association, members of the Legislature, Governor Johnston and members of his staff, and other prominent persons. The pedestal of the monument itself was tastefully garnished with ferns and chrysanthemums. Long before noon, Capitol Hill was rich in color with the dresses of several thousand women. The spectators experienced some disappointment over a delay in the parade. But their patience did not desert. It was a good natured crowd. Many of the spectators stood uncomplainingly for three hours, straining their ears for phrases from orators who were concealed from view.