Page 168 - Arkansas Confederate Women

"The Daughter oe the First Arkansas Regiment" 145

presented to her by the veterans of the Confederate camp at
Newport, Ark. To insure the preservation of the treasure, Mrs.
Cockle has since presented it to the Confederate Museum at
Richmond, Virginia.

During a visit to her sister, Mrs. Watson, in Newport, Mrs.

Cockle was given a reception by the loyal daughters of Arkansas,

who, through her, paid tribute to her father. Arkansas' illus-

trious son. Colonel Minor, in behalf of the "Daughters," pre-

sented Mrs. Cockle a little flag, with the following touching re-

marks: "As the 'daughter of the First Arkansas Regiment/
we do you but slight honor in this impromptu affair. Your gal-
lant father led this flag in many a deadly battle, honored it and

loved it until the day of his death, in peace ; but bowed ever
with submission to the inevitable when the conditions so re-

quired. In behalf of the Daughters of the Lucian C. Gause

Chapter, I present you with this slight token of the renewed

love of those of the First Arkansas Regiment who are left

behind for the time being, and yet cherish the love that was close

and sweet in the sixties, hoping that you have in no wise di-

minished in the faith you imbibed in those days, but will hold

to your children's children and their generations the old love for
the South, and that the Confederacy will, in the memory of

all, live forever."

Mrs. Cockle was the guest of the veterans of Fagan Camp

Aat Barren Fork, Ark., in the fall of 1905. parade of the

veterans through the little town, and a service at the church,

were features of the welcome and abundant hospitality accorded
the daughter of their old comrade. The occasion was replete

with reminiscences of valliant deeds in the heroic struggle for

the right, and pictures of the past would grow, "soldiers of the
Confederacy," standing as they might have stood on the eve of
battle, some summer day in the early sixties, in long trim lines,

silk and gold above them, and the green hills of Virginia stretch-

ing away behind ; the pictures would give way, and in their stead
with youthful, eager, boyish faces; with the flashing of flags

would appear the reality of the hour, the veterans sitting there

listening to

'The tales that will not die/ "

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