There is nothing left of that civilization now but a few remnants of its gray columns—_themselves_ grown gray as if in honor of the uniforms they wore—and the thrilling and pathetic story of its vanished prestige and power lingering among its tombstones and monuments like the fragrance of roses that are faded and gone. Never again will the white-columned mansions of the masters glorify the groves of live oak and the orange and the palm where Southern beauty was wooed and won by Southern chivalry, and life was an endless chain of pleasure. Never again will the snowy cotton fields and rice fields, stretching away to the Gulf or to the river, teem with happy slaves and ring with their old time plantation melodies. Hushed forever is the music of the Old South! Closed are the lips of its matchless orators! The dust of its statesmen mingles with the dust of the heroes who died to save it. Only three are left in the counsels of the nation: Morgan, the brave and the true, the able, the eloquent and learned Senator from Alabama; Pettus from the same state, the peer of Morgan in all the exalted traits of character that distinguish the unswerving and incorruptible representative and defender of Southern ideals and Southern traditions; and Bate, that grand old man of dauntless courage, that fearless soldier with many scars, the hero of Shiloh, the strong and faithful Senator who in private life is as pure and gentle as the mother of his children, and in war as bold and daring a cavalier as ever drew a sword![1] It is true there are other splendid men from the land of cotton and cane in Congress, whose heads are silvered o’er, and who have nobly led Southern thought and sentiment. They are superb exponents of the old ante-bellum civilization, but they were too young to taste the sweets of its glory. Some of them were born soon enough to listen to the lullaby of the old black mammy and to sit in the negro cabin and listen to the blood-curdling tales of uncle ’Rastus about ghosts and goblins; some, like Daniel of Virginia, Berry of Arkansas, and Blackburn of Kentucky, were old enough to follow Lee and Jackson and to fight to the finish; but their youth forbade them from sitting on the throne of living ebony with these older men, who, in reality, are all that is left of the Old South in the national legislature; and in whose presence all men, whether of the North or of the South, delight to lift their hats with that profound reverence which true nobility of character always commands. What a shame there are not four! Footnote 1: Senator Bate has died since this was penned. [Illustration: SENATOR WILLIAM B. BATE. ] [Illustration: GOVERNOR JAMES B. FRAZIER, OF TENNESSEE. ]