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STEPHEN Bo WEEKS 
 
 CLASS OF 1886; PH.D. THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSnT 
 
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 UNIVIEIRSimY OF NdDlOT CMIDIIMA 
 fflE WEEKS CdDLlLECTlKDN 
 
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 CAROLIMANA 
 
 L51IW 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00032695922 
 
 FOR USE ONLY IN 
 THE NORTH CAROLINA COLLECTION 
 THIS TITLE HAS BEEN rv'.iCroriLMED 
 
This BOOK may be kept , out TWO 
 WEJSKS QNLY, nnd is subject to a fin? 
 of FIV&r-CENTS a day thereafter.. It was 
 
 take^HT'out on the day indicated below 
 
^/^■, y'Ay/^- 
 
 In ^emoriam 
 
 M. x«a. X. 
 
SERVICES 
 
 HELD IN THE 
 
 Chapel of Rest, Yadkin Valley, N. C. 
 
 AT THE FUNERAL OF THE LATE 
 
 CAPT. WALTER WAIGHTSTILL LENOIR 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 Sermon 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. JAMES A. WESTON 
 
 AND 
 
 A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE DECEASED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. & J. B. YOUNG & CO. 
 
 COOPER UNION, FOURTH AVENUE 
 1890 
 
/^ 
 
 '^ 
 
 0^ 
 
 The funeral services of the late Captain Walter W. 
 Lenoir were held in the Chapel of Rest, at eleven 
 o'clock, July 28, 1890. The solemn Burial Service 
 of the Protestant Episcopal Church was read by the 
 Rev. James A. Weston, who also preached the Me- 
 morial Sermon. The Body was reverently laid to 
 rest in the Lenoir Family Cemetery, at Fort Defi- 
 ance, by the side of his wife and child. 
 
The beautiful hymn, "Abide with me, fast falls 
 the even-tide," was sung at the beginning of the 
 service. At the close, as the large congregation 
 slowly and sadly walked up the aisle to take a last 
 look at the peaceful face of their departed friend, 
 the following hymn was sung as a solo : 
 
 I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 
 *' Come unto me and rest ; 
 Lay down, thou weary one, lay down 
 
 Thy head upon my breast : " 
 I came to Jesus as I was, 
 
 Weary, and worn, and sad ; 
 I found in Him a resting-place, 
 
 And He has made me glad. 
 
 I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 
 " Behold ! I freely give 
 The living water, thirsty one 
 
 Stoop down, and drink, and live : " 
 I came to Jesus, and I drank 
 
 Of that life-giving stream ; 
 My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, 
 
 And now I live in Him. 
 
SERMON. 
 
 " For he was a good man." — Acts xi. 24. 
 
 ON last Easter Day, in this beautiful, 
 hallowed Chapel of Rest, I adminis- 
 tered the Sacrament of Baptism to Walter 
 Waightstill Lenoir. It was an impressive 
 and touching service. I can never forget it. 
 I feel sure that not one of the large congre- 
 gation then present can ever forget it. There 
 were few unmoistened eyes, and most of the 
 congregation were deeply affected as the Can- 
 didate solemnly dedicated himself in Holy 
 Baptism to the service of Almighty God. 
 Every one felt that this was no formal, cere- 
 monious act, but that the man who thus stood 
 up and confessed God before men, and took 
 upon him the highest of all possible obliga- 
 tions, was fully resolved, the Lord being his 
 
 5 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 Helper, *' obediently to keep God's Holy 
 Will and Commandments, and to walk in the 
 same all the days of his life — to continue 
 Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto his 
 life's end." It was a spontaneous, a hearty, 
 a grand tribute to the character of the man. 
 He had lived among this people the greater 
 part of his life and they knew him. They 
 knew that he was a true man — true in all the 
 relations of life, true in every profession that 
 he made, true in word and in deed, in mind 
 and in heart — honest, manly, generous, mer- 
 ciful, humble. They loved him. They hon- 
 ored him. They trusted him. And, my dear 
 friends, no one can desire a richer reward 
 than this, a better memorial, a greater mon- 
 ument. Oh, I tell you here to-day that I 
 would rather have the love and confidence of 
 my people, the people among whom I live 
 and labor — not the rich, the great, the influ- 
 ential merely, but the plainest, the poorest, 
 the vilest, the lowest — I would rather have 
 the love, and confidence, and devotion of all 
 my people, than to possess all the silver, and 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 gold, and jewels of earth, or to wear the 
 crown of the richest, mightiest monarch that 
 ever lived. Such heart-treasure is worth 
 them all, a million times over. For crowns, 
 and kingdoms, and riches perish. They are 
 of the earth, earthy. They '* pass away." 
 But character, a good name, loving, virtuous 
 deeds ; these do not pass away. Truth lasts. 
 It is like the little seed which is sown into the 
 earth, and springs up, and multiplies itself 
 from year to year, and from century to cen- 
 tury, until it becomes lost in the vastness of nu- 
 merical computation. The influence of a just, 
 and pure, and gentle, and holy life dies not 
 here nor hereafter. It goes on, and on, and 
 on, widening, deepening, strengthening, hon- 
 oring God and blessing mankind, long, long 
 after we have gone the way of all the earth 
 — and it will ultimately, by God's blessing, 
 form a part of our ever-growing, immortal 
 life. It becomes a part of Eternity itself. 
 Not here in all its beauty and power will 
 the sweet, noble, Christ-like life, now ended 
 among men, be unfolded to our view. Wher- 
 
 7 
 
Memorial Sermon. 
 
 ever our friend was known, wherever his 
 7ianie was known, his character was held in 
 the highest, the most reverent estimation. 
 His word was his bond. It was the syno- 
 nym of sincerity, and candor, and faith. 
 One of his old friends — than whom I never 
 knew a more honorable, a more estimable 
 man — said to me with deep emotion the day 
 after his death, " Oh, I would have trusted 
 him anywhere, at any time, under all circum- 
 stances to the ends of the earth." It is the 
 universal verdict. 
 
 None knew him but to love him 
 None named him but to praise. 
 
 Such a testimonial is above all price. When 
 such a man dies the people mourn. It is 
 a public calamity. The days are full of 
 evil. The public conscience is fearfully de- 
 bauched. Corruption stalks, brazen-faced in 
 high places and in low. Men are bought 
 and sold like sheep in the shambles. Suc- 
 cess is openly, shamelessly proclaimed as the 
 
 only standard of right. License is Freedom. 
 
 8 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 Lawlessness is Law. Society, for the most 
 part, is honeycombed with false ideas of 
 morals and religion. Vice, richly gilded, 
 boldly usurps the throne of virtue. And 
 Home, the first temple of God, sacredest 
 and dearest of places, the fountain of life 
 and liberty, of all right thinking and right 
 living, is desecrated, and its foundations, 
 threatened by the demon of so-called Prog- 
 ress and Reform. We need men like Cap- 
 tain Lenoir — God only knows how sorely 
 we need them — to stay these mad waves of 
 intemperance and selfishness in their hy- 
 dra-headed forms, to give to public life, to 
 social life, to family life, a purer, a soberer, 
 a softer, a more healthful tone. 
 
 Captain Lenoir was a man of the loftiest 
 patriotism. He loved his country and his 
 people with boundless devotion. There 
 was no period of his life when he would not 
 most cheerfully have made any sacrifice, 
 however great, even to the laying down of 
 his life, in defence of their sacred, their in- 
 alienable, their Heaven-born rights. Few 
 
 9 
 
Memorial Sermon. 
 
 persons, beyond the circle of those who 
 knew him well, would have supposed that 
 this quiet, modest, unassuming man was cast 
 in a heroic mould. And yet no man had 
 more firmness or more courage — none 
 could be more intrepid and daring when 
 the occasion demanded it. War hardens 
 most men's hearts. It softened his. 
 
 The bravest are the tenderest, 
 The loving are the daring. 
 
 He was a man of large public spirit. He 
 took the deepest interest in the social, in- 
 dustrial, and economic questions of the day. 
 The past was dear — inexpressibly dear to 
 him — but he fully realized the fact that his 
 duty to the living was paramount to every 
 other consideration, and he nobly, unsel- 
 fishly addressed himself to the task of bet- 
 tering the condition of those amonor whom 
 he lived, of rehabilitating, as best he could, 
 their fallen fortunes, and lifting them up to a 
 more hopeful, and a happier life. Whatever 
 measures, public or private, tended in any 
 
 lO 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 way to the good of his people were sure to 
 have his hearty, persevering, efficient sup- 
 port. Broad, cultured, clear-headed, practical, 
 liberal, many sided, conservative in thought 
 and feeling, fully sympathizing with all that 
 was best in the progressive spirit of the age, 
 no man was more useful to the community in 
 which he lived, or to the people generally 
 among whom Providence had cast his lot. 
 
 But it was in his simple, unostentatious 
 private life that his virtues were most con- 
 spicuous, his charities the sweetest, his char- 
 acter the loveliest, his influence the greatest. 
 Ah, no one but our Heavenly Father knows 
 the good that that man has done. The 
 poor, the sick, the suffering, the needy, the 
 little ones of earth will rise up at the last 
 Day, and call him blessed. '' In the name 
 of Heaven," said one of his neighbors, 
 '* what will the poor people do now ? No 
 one can take his place." He fed the hun- 
 gry, he clothed the naked, he comforted the 
 sorrowing and desolate. The '' blessing of 
 him that was ready to perish " came upon 
 
 II 
 
Memorial Sermon. 
 
 him, and he '* caused the widow's heart to 
 sing for joy." He was '' eyes to the blind, 
 feet to the lame, a father to the poor," a 
 helper of the helpless : every form of adver- 
 sity found in him a sympathizing and active 
 friend. And the very manner in which he 
 performed these kind offices gave a double 
 charm and value to all that he said and did. 
 It was worth as much as, or more than, the 
 benefactions themselves. A cold, formal, 
 unfeeling charity may be, and often is, a 
 curse, instead of a blessing. You may give 
 a pair of shoes to a poor boy with naked, 
 bleeding feet, but the manner of your giving 
 may be such as to cause him indignantly to 
 throw them away, and to walk on in pain 
 and in blood. Captain Lenoir's manner was 
 so sympathetic, so unselfish, so affectionate, 
 so full of the Christ-like spirit, that he 
 seemed to be the one upon whom the char- 
 ity was bestowed — the recipient of his 
 own gifts. Love must go with your gifts. 
 Love begets love. Love is omnipotent. 
 A little with love is infinitely better than 
 
 12 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 much without love. Our dear brother 
 knew, as few know, the meaning of the 
 Master's words, *' It is more blessed to give 
 than to receive." This is true Humility — 
 the crowning grace of the Higher Life. 
 *' Whosoever shall be great among you, let 
 him be your minister. And whosoever will 
 be chief among you, let him be your servant. 
 Even as the Son of Man came not to be 
 ministered unto, but to minister." Captain 
 Lenoir was never happier than when minis- 
 terine to the wants of others. Sir William 
 Jones has beautifully said : '* If I am asked 
 who is the greatest man, I answer, the best ; 
 and if I am required to say who is the best, 
 I answer, he that has deserved most of his 
 fellow-creatures." How true. Who does 
 not feel that Walter Waightstill Lenoir was 
 a great man ? In the light of such a life 
 and character, we have the best commen- 
 tary upon those words of Holy Scripture, 
 *' Then shall the King say unto them on his 
 right hand, ' Come, ye blessed of my Father, 
 inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
 
 13 
 
Memorial Sennon. 
 
 the foundation of the world : for I was an 
 hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was 
 thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a 
 stranger, and ye took me in : naked, and ye 
 clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me : 
 I was in prison, and ye came unto me.' 
 Then shall the righteous answer him, say- 
 ing, ' Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, 
 and fed thee ? or thirsty, and gave thee 
 drink ? When saw we thee a stranger, and 
 took thee in ? or naked, and clothed thee ? 
 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and 
 came unto thee ? ' And the King shall an- 
 swer and say unto them, ' Verily I say unto 
 you. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one 
 of the least of these my brethren, ye have 
 done it unto me/ " 
 
 Dear brethren and friends, let us try at 
 all times to recognize, as our dear brother 
 recognized — not theoretically, but practically 
 — the great truth of the Fatherhood of God, 
 and the brotherhood of man. God is our 
 Father, We are all brethren. Let us live 
 as brethren — eye to eye, hand to hand, 
 
 14 
 
Memorial Sermon. 
 
 heart to heart. This is Christianity. Let 
 us build upon this Rock, and the country is 
 safe, the people are safe, your souls are safe. 
 All social questions will readily, naturally, 
 adjust themselves — ^just as surely as water 
 will seek its level. Objections arising from 
 this source are the unfailing refuge of sel- 
 fishness and treason — treason to the King 
 of Kings and Lord of Lords — treason to 
 the meek and lowly Jesus who went about 
 doing good to the souls and bodies of men. 
 Let us build upon this Rock, and an era 
 of unexampled peace, and prosperity, and 
 happiness will dawn upon us. Nihilism, 
 and Socialism, and Communism, and kindred 
 evils, will flee away, because they cannot 
 stand before this unselfish, christian conse- 
 cration and sacrifice. There will be less 
 poverty, and sickness, and sorrow, and pain, 
 and suffering, in this *' troublesome world " 
 — fewer anxieties, and cares, and tears, and 
 burdens of every kind. There will be so 
 many light hearts, and bright eyes, and cheer- 
 ful faces, and erect forms, and elastic steps — 
 
 15 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 so many happy men and happier women: 
 Heaven upon Earth. Captain Lenoir was 
 for many years the child of affliction and sor- 
 row. We cannot tell how much he suffered. 
 Every heart knows its own bitterness, and 
 there were times when his cup seemed to be 
 almost full. But he was entirely resigned to 
 the will of God. Those who were with him 
 most alone know with what courage, and 
 patience, and cheerfulness, and fortitude he 
 bore whatever his Heavenly Father was 
 pleased to send upon him. 
 
 A marked trait of our friend's character 
 was his love of kindred. His affection for 
 them was simply beautiful beyond descrip- 
 tion. It was holy. We cannot enter into 
 this inner Sanctuary. We draw the veil here. 
 
 That our Brother had faults, that he com- 
 mitted errors, no one was so ready to ac- 
 knowledge as himself — no one so deeply de- 
 plored them. But of him we may truly say 
 in the language of one who loved every- 
 body, and whom everybody loved. 
 
 Even his failings leaned to Virtue's side. 
 i6 
 
Memorial Sermon, 
 
 As the end drew near, he grew, day by 
 day, riper and riper for the Kingdom of 
 Heaven. A large portion of the Church's 
 daily services was read to him every morn- 
 ing and evening, and afforded him unspeak- 
 able comfort. It was his daily bread — his 
 manna from Heaven. His Bible was con- 
 stantly by his side, and his explanations and 
 expositions of striking and difficult portions 
 of Holy Writ were a perfect revelation to 
 those who ministered to him. Passages 
 of Scripture which seemed to have no spe- 
 cial meaning grew radiant with beauty and 
 power, as he interpreted them. *' The en- 
 trance of thy Word," says the Psalmist, 
 '* giveth light. It giveth understanding to 
 the simple." Captain Lenoir was a man of 
 large and varied attainments, and had for 
 many years been a diligent student of the 
 Bible, but may we not believe that God's 
 Word, now entering deeply into his soul, 
 kneelinof on the border-land between Earth 
 and Heaven, gave him abundant light, and 
 enabled him to communicate this light to 
 
 17 
 
Memorial Sermon. 
 
 others ? I cannot doubt it. A short time be- 
 fore the final stroke, he wished to be alone, 
 like Jacob at the ford of Jabbok, to commune 
 with his God, and to plead for special grace 
 and strength for the approaching trial. Re- 
 ligion is a sacred thing, and it is never so real 
 as when we wish to be alone with God, when 
 no eye but His can see us, no ear but His 
 can hear us. Our affections in social, every- 
 day life, are purest, and sweetest, and strong- 
 est when the lips are silent — when the heart 
 alone speaks. Words are so cheap, so cheap. 
 It is the holiest of emotions — this desire to 
 be alone with God. Our dear Lord, standing 
 in the shadow of that Awful Death, wished 
 to be alone in the Garden of Gethsemane. 
 
 And thus our dear friend and brother, in 
 sweetest, closest communion with his Lord 
 and Saviour, passed peacefully away to that 
 '' rest that remaineth to the people of God." 
 
 God's finger touched him, and he slept. 
 
 We shall no more look upon that kindly 
 
 face, so calm, so peaceful, so loving, even in 
 
 i8 
 
Memorial Sermon. 
 
 death. His Works follow him. His re- 
 ward is sure. '' For he was a good man." 
 Let the record stand thus. Let it go down 
 from generation to generation, to guide, and 
 comfort, and bless those who are to come 
 after him, until the trump of God shall sum- 
 mon to the bar of final Judgment both the 
 
 quick and the dead. Let the record stand : 
 
 i. 
 
 He was a Good Man. 
 
 He is eone. He cannot come to us, but 
 we may, by God's mercy, go to him. Dear 
 friends, God grant that we may so live in 
 this world that we may meet him in that 
 better Land where parting shall be no more. 
 
 God grant it. 
 
 19 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 Walter Waightstill Lenoir died at his 
 home, at Stonewall, Watauga Co., N. C, on 
 the evening of July 26, 1890. He was born 
 at Fort Defiance, Caldwell Co., N. C, March 
 13, 1823. He was the son of Thomas and 
 Selina Louisa Lenoir, and the grandson of 
 General William Lenoir of Revolutionary 
 memory, and of Colonel Waightstill Avery, a 
 true patriot, and one of the signers of the 
 Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence. 
 
 In 1843 he graduated with high honors 
 at the University of North Carolina. There 
 were but two others of a large class that took 
 first distinction ; and it being necessary to 
 draw for the Valedictory, the prize fell to 
 him. He studied Law, was admitted to the 
 bar in 1845, and came easily to the front 
 rank of his profession. He was especially 
 
 21 
 
Memoir, 
 
 regarded by his legal brethren as one of the 
 best judges of Law in North Carolina. 
 
 On the loth day of June, 1856, he was 
 united in marriage to Miss Cornelia I. Chris- 
 tian, of Staunton, Va. — a union so congenial 
 that perfect happiness was vouchsafed to 
 them until the death of their lovely child, 
 Anna Tate Lenoir. The mother soon fol- 
 lowed, leaving wound-prints in his heart that 
 were never healed ; but being of noble mould 
 he was soon convinced that usefulness lay 
 not in a selfish indulgence of sorrow, but in 
 the path of duty. That path was soon made 
 plain to him. The Civil War came, and he 
 quickly decided how he could best serve his 
 country. He declared his firm belief in the 
 justice and sacredness of her cause, and said 
 that he was ready cheerfully to sacrifice in its 
 defence, whatever it might need, of his means, 
 his strength, his time, and his capacity of en- 
 durance. In December, i86|, he entered 
 the Confederate Army as a Private. In Jan- 
 uary, i86Jvhe was promoted to the Captain- 
 cy of a Company that had been in active ser- 
 
 22 
 
Memoir. 
 
 vice. It was with serious mismvinofs that he 
 accepted the office ; but he proved himself a 
 wise and efficient leader, gladly sharing the 
 hardships of his men, and endearing himself 
 to them by many acts of unselfish kindness. 
 Their love for him amounted to devotion. 
 He was wounded at the battle of Ox Hill, 
 September i, \Z6%. His brave company, ot 
 which one-third only was left after the sec- 
 ond battle of Manassas Plains, was exposed 
 to a terrific fire, and all but three were either 
 killed or wounded. His account of himself 
 in this hotly contested action is most charac- 
 teristic. He says in his Diary, *' In the twi- 
 light, toward the close of the battle, I had 
 thrown myself on the ground from sheer ex- 
 haustion, and was talking to Captain Morris, 
 who was in the same attitude. I turned my 
 face from him to speak to my men, when I 
 felt an excruciating pain in my leg.' I said 
 to him in my natural voice, ' Captain Morris, 
 my leg is broken by a musket-ball.' Very 
 soon after I felt another blow upon the same 
 leg, and I said to him again in the same tone, 
 
Memoir. 
 
 ^ I am wounded aofain in the same lee.' Af- 
 ter finishing the conversation — commenced 
 before I received the second wound, which 
 shattered both bones of my leg — he was 
 summoned away, and I dragged myself about 
 ten steps or more to a place a little more ele- 
 vated than the fence at which we had been 
 fiehtinor, thinkinof there would be a better 
 chance of my being found. While there, I 
 had sand thrown over my face various times 
 by musket-balls which struck the ground 
 near my head, while the shells from the ene- 
 my's battery which was enfilading our line 
 passed in fearful proximity to my body. I 
 felt a wonderful deo-ree of calmness and res- 
 ignation to my fate in this alarming situation. 
 I thought that if the wounds I had already 
 received did not prove fatal, it was very prob- 
 able that I would be struck again and killed 
 — but I felt that I was in the hands of a mer- 
 ciful God and He would do with me what 
 was right. In a few hours one of my men 
 found me, and with the assistance of three 
 
 others bore me off on my blanket, stretched 
 
 24 
 
Memoir. 
 
 between two fence-rails, to a house about a 
 quarter of a mile distant, and laid me on a 
 narrow porch which was so crowded with 
 the wounded that there was only room for 
 me at the entry, and my wounded leg was 
 often struck by passers-by, to my great tor- 
 ture. Next morning I was carried on my 
 stretcher for nearly a mile, and laid on the 
 ground in an old field, with other wounded, 
 to aw^ait surgical aid which could not be 
 obtained until September 3d, when, to my 
 great relief, a surgeon amputated my leg." 
 In another part of his Diary he says : "■ The 
 life of a soldier is calculated in many respects 
 to have a hardening influence on the heart, 
 but somehow it seemed to soften mine. 
 When in that hard campaign, I saw the suf- 
 ferings of my men, and thousands of others 
 — their weary gait, their bare and bleeding 
 feet, and their heroic patience, my heart 
 was touched to the core, and I often found 
 the tears unconsciously coursing down my 
 cheeks. . . 
 
 '' At the battle of Cedar Run I was con- 
 
 25 
 
Memoir. 
 
 stantly with my men, encouraging them, and 
 assisting them, and others whom I knew, to 
 load, etc. They were so worn out by the 
 march and the fight, that, although much ex- 
 hausted myself, I had to assist two of my 
 men in the last charge through the corn- 
 field, by having them to lean on my shoulder 
 for awhile." Other extracts from his Diary 
 might be given which show not only his un- 
 swerving devotion to duty, but his exceed- 
 ing gentleness of nature. After the close 
 of the War, he turned to peaceful and more 
 congenial pursuits. He lived for several 
 years in Haywood County. From that 
 place his duty called him to Watauga Coun- 
 ty, v/here he lived until his death. Under 
 the very shadow of the Grandfather Moun- 
 tain he loved to abide, and among the noble- 
 hearted people of that mountain section he 
 was best known and appreciated. In 1883 
 he was elected a member of the State Legis- 
 lature from Watauga County, and his grate- 
 ful constituents would have continued thus 
 
 to honor him, but for his absolute refusal 
 
 26 
 
Memoir. 
 
 longer to continue in public office. He pre- 
 ferred a quiet, unobtrusive life among- his 
 own people, where his large-hearted bene- 
 ficence could find ample scope. No man, 
 perhaps, has ever done so much for the peo- 
 ple of Watauga as Walter Waightstill Le- 
 noir. He was to them at all times a wise 
 counsellor, a true friend, an unfailing helper. 
 His place cannot soon be filled. A gener- 
 ous, sympathetic Christian life — who can tell 
 its influence ? 
 
 "• Say not his work is done, 
 No deed of love and goodness ever dies, 
 But in the lives of others multiplies ; 
 Say, It is just begun." 
 27