Occasions now and then occur in the great commonwealth that mark a mile post on life's highway. Pleasing incidents so thrilling that we are charmed, even fascinated and spell bound, and made to wonder if it is real or only a dream.

The pretty town of Murphey -- a city in miniature -- situated most delightfully amid the mountains of North Carolina, enjoyed a red letter day on the 11th of August, 1917. The occasion was the unveiling a beautiful fountain placed on the public square by the Woman's Club in memory of Judge Archibald D. Murphey, for whom this town was named. Thus fittingly recording their admiration for this great and good man. The exercises were so beautiful, impressive and entertaining, that the occasion ought not to pass without notice.

Mrs. Oliver Kinsey, former President of the Club, presented the fountain to the Mayor of the City and in behalf of the city the Mayor accepted it in a few well timed and appropriate remarks. Mrs. Kinsey's presentation speech was ornate, impressive and beautiful, and was later characterized by one of the subsequent speakers as a Bunch of Roses; recounting and giving proper credit to the devoted members of the Club for their combined efforts to secure this handsome token of appreciation dedicated to the memory of this noted jurist and educator. She was followed by Hon. J. H. Dillard, who was the orator of the occasion. He appropriately and fittingly traced the history of this great North Carolinian from the morning to the evening of his life. In a well modulated voice, his speech was marked by deep pathos, and at all times eloquent, while the great audience responded enthusiastically to his grand periorations.

The Woman's Club was seated on an improvised stage under the shade of those great elms on the public square. Hundreds of people nestled about this stand, flags were waving in the glad sunlight, automobiles were parked in a semicircle, and the school children of the city thronged the vacant spaces about the stage and square. Sweetly and softly these children sang the "Old North State," and the vast crowd joined in the chorus, while just in front stood this exquisite pink colored marble shaft with snow white vase, gurgling from its summit pure water from the mountain that fell like a bridal veil over the base. Pure as a limpid, stream clean as the chizel marble are the hearts and motives of those patriotic women, who made it possible that this splendid fountain stands in the public square of Murphy, North Carolina, today.

Superior Court was in session, and the venerable and distinguished Judge Shaw called a recess, and he and the court officers, the local bar and visiting attorneys all joined and aided by their presence to honor the occasion. It was truly a cosmopolitan audience; the southern visitor joined in the chorus as they sang the "Old North State."

Strange it is that the greatness of all the great is magnified as they recede from our view down the long vista of the past, but such is the human habit. We do not seem to recognize the strength and height of human character, unless we stand at a distance and take a retrospective view. We often measure great men and great lives as we take the height of the mountain trend at a distance, we see lone peaks more lofty than their fellows upon whose summit the storm cloud rests, whose towering head is guilded with the first rays of the morning sun, and receives the last lingering ray of the same at eventide; and we compare our dead heroes to these great supernal heights. They inspire us with grandeur and greatness, and ought to beget within us a spirit of emulation.

H. N. Wells

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