permitted to make a few extracts.

It is very significant that at any time during these twenty years of
your life here, it would have been just as delightful to meet and say
the pleasant words that leap to our lips, as it is to say them to-day.
You, whom we delight to honor this afternoon, have held the same post
of honor all these years, but many of us do not know how delightfully
you hold that place, so I, who have known you so long, am asked to
explain, and if this hasty sketch seems too flattering to be given in
your presence, I fear you alone are responsible. If you had put less
into your life for us to admire, we could put less into our expression
of admiration.

We know how you lost early a good mother, and that your father was
taken when you were only eighteen; but the missionary spirit of that
father was repeated in the daughter. We know of your being discouraged
by a missionary Board because applying so young, but of your being
finally accepted, and going to Hampton, reaching that now famous
school even before the veteran--General Armstrong.

Then came the year of teaching at Charleston, a year so full of
privations in those pioneer days, that though repeated calls came to
you from Florida and Georgia, as well as the old fields, you shrank
from farther hardships and decided to remain at home, till one Sunday
morning in Connecticut, twenty years ago, these words were unfolded in
a sermon, "Simon, Son of Jonas, lovest thou me? Yea, Lord, thou
knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my Lambs." How easy
it is for us now to see the beautiful Providence of those wonderful
words finding a swift response in your heart and bringing you at once
to Atlanta. There are those before me now that greeted you then in