| Notes |
- The Newnan Herald and Advertiser, Friday, 18 February 1910
IN MEMORIAM OF HENRY ABNER CAMP
Henry Abner Camp was born in Coweta county, near Moreland, Ga., on March 17, 1850. He was the son of George W. and Mary A. Camp and next to the youngest of five children. His father was among the pioneers who, with strong arms and brave hearts, felled the forest and made the wilderness blossom as the rose.
Henry spent his early years on the farm working during the busy season and attending school at idle times. Pioneer life inured him to hardship and toil and stamped indelibly upon his character those principles of industry, economy and perseverance which characterized in a pre-eminent degree his entire life. He loved with tender devotion the old home on the farm and he loved farm life. It was, therefore but natural that in choosing an avocation he should turn to agriculture. He bought on credit a splendid farm in the upper part of Troup, which was afterwards, by special act of the Legislature, cut off into Coweta county. By close application to business, good management and an almost unerring judgment, he soon paid for the place, and a princely one it was, consisting of nearly a thousand acres of fertile land lying on Yellow Jacket creek, with a fine old colonial home crowning the hill that overlooked the lowlands.
There was now but one thing lacking to complete his happiness and that was a good wife to share his joys and divide his sorrows. In the selection of a helpmeet he was peculiarly fortunate. On the 16th of November 1871, he led to the altar Miss Coos B. Simms, eldest daughter of Benjamin T. and Elizabeth P. Simms and thus were united two of the best families in the county. The writer of this memorial was one of the honored guests at the celebration of their nuptials, and it was indeed a happy occasion. To them were born six children, three sons, Bennie T., Rigdon H. and Johnnie P., and three daughters, Mary A., Dormer I. and Bernice E. Camp, all now living and grown to manhood and womanhood, and all but two happily married.
In young manhood, the deceased was converted and joined the M.E. Church, South, and lived a consistent life to the end; and when the final summons came he was ready and willing to go. On the 17th of December 1909, he died in the triumph of the Christian faith and went home to Glory. It so happened that the wife of the deceased belonged to a Baptist family of long standing and was herself a regular communicant of that faith and order; but with a devotion worthy of emulation, she withdrew from the church in which she had been born, cradled and nurtured, in order that she might worship at the same shrine with her husband, kneel at the same altar and partake of the same communion.
The deceased was modest and unassuming, and possessed of a nature as gentle as that of a woman. He was unpretentious, unself-assertive. He interfered with no man's business but attended strictly to his own.
His rugged honesty and his devotion to truth and the right for right's sake impressed all within the circle of his acquaintance and will no doubt prove an inspiration to help many to nobler and better lives. If "an honest man is the noblest work of God", then he was the peer of any man, for he was strictly honest.
When the panic of 1873 came, it found his father George W. Camp, engaged in the mercantile business at Carrollton. He sold supplies to the farmers on credit. His effects were in the hands of the people and failure to collect threatened financial ruin. He came to Grantville and applied to his son Henry for assistance. Without hesitation, Henry turned over to his father the title deeds to his land and told him to use them as he saw fit. The land was mortgaged to Silvey & Dougherty of Atlanta for a large debt due them for merchandise, and failure on the part of the father to pay the money left the son once more without a home. But he was still in the strength and vigor of manhood and never despairing he went to work and paid the farm in full a second time. For awhile all went good. He bought another farm and built a home in town. In the meantime his son entered the mercantile business in Grantville. His success for several years was the wonder of the town and community.
But the panic of 1894 came when cotton sold at 5 cents per pound and under. In common with thousands of others, it crippled the young merchant financially and after struggling for a season to keep above the waves, he was forced into involuntary bankruptcy, owing a vast sum of money for which his father was surety. The father gave up everything he possessed except the house and lot in town. He seemed to be one of those unfortunates whom "disaster follows fast and follows faster". Such hard luck, such cruel fate, would have crushed the very life out of the average man. But he never despaired. The same energy and determination which had stood him in such good hand in the past did not fail him in the present extremity. He went to work and paid for the farm the third time. Not only this; he bought the farm adjoining, with the ancestral home which in the years long gone, he had wooed and won his bride.
Such indomitable will power, such deathless perseverance, such sublime devotion to honest, truth and right, elicit the admiration of the world, and best of all, this is no empty eulogium, no exaggerated panegyric, but a plain statement of facts, the record of the noble life of an honest man.
But nothing that we can say can benefit the dead. His work is done, nobly done! He died honored and esteemed by all who knew him, and he went away "owing no man anything but to love him." He has gone to that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler ever returns. But the lessons of his successful life and triumphant death will be forgotten. His noble achievements will be an inspiration to every young man struggling to rise above his environments to a nobler and better life. But let us remember that beyond the reach of mortal vision, he still lives.
"He has but passed,
Beyond the mist that binds us here,
Into the new and larger life,
Of that serener sphere.
Where he hath gone,
Time doth not work in days its golden flight,
The sun is dimmed by heaven's greater light.
And there are never tears no lonely night,
Where he hath gone.
We'll not forget thee, we who stay,
To work a little longer here,
Thy name, thy faith, thy love shall lie,
On memory's page all bright and clear,
And when o'er wearied by the toil,
Our life, our heavy limbs shall be,
We'll come and, one by one, lie down,
Upon dear mother earth with thee."
Grantville, Ga., Feb. 10, 1910
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1850 - 1909 (59 years)
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