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Now I didn't come to Little Rock to preach you a sermon - This
is no{struckthrough: t} {struckthrough: the} place for it {added:}-- which reminds me of a tale they tell on
my father. One Sunday he was ushering in Christ Church,
Nashville when during the {struckthrough: service}sermon a lady sitting far down on the
left side of the center aisle began voicingher approval of the
sermon by loud exclamations and Amens. After a conference {x-ed out: with}
among the ushers it was agreed that he should go down and remonstrate
with her. So he walked down the aisle, tapped the lady on {struckthrough: her} the
shoulder and said: "Madam, please try to be a little more quiet.
You are disturbing those around you." She looked up in a very
surpri{"s" written over the "z"}ed manner and said "Why, Mr. Gale, I am just getting
religion". Without thinking my father replied "Well, this is
no place for it." It seems to me however, that one of the
best {struckthrough: sentiments}sermons that could be preached is a review of the life
and works of a noble and valiant man, a soldier of {x-ed out: the Cross} Christ
and a soldier of the Confederacy.

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{illegible x-ed out}

was supposed to have been one of the authors of the legendary
Mecklenberg Declaration of Independence and

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His mother was Sarah Hawkins, a daughter of Philomon Hawkins
a former governor of North Carolina.