ADDEE8SES.
 

SPEECH OF ALGEENON S.  SULLIVAN.

Me, Cooper:

In poetry there is an imaginary flower that never
fades. It is the amaranth, which, though born in the
glow of fancy, always has the power of a reality. We
know it unfolds its beauty as nowhere else in hearts
where are well-springs of active charity, and in that
atmosphere of grateful love which sweet charity ever
inspires. As your pathway in life is self-bestrewn
with these immorteUes, they spring up in Arcadia to¬
night, mantling all her meadow banks and mountain
slopes in welcome. They wreathe themselves into all
the associations, sympathies, and purposes of this trib¬
ute to you. They tell us of a good life, full of good
purposes kindly and wisely executed; a life diffusing
blessed sunshine, and which, even to its later period,
is a rich autumn ; a life which illustrates the meaning
of the most perfect of Grecian games, whereat Athe¬
nian youths, bearing lighted torches, ran a race on the
banks of the Ceramieus, and the victor was he who