The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1879-06-12
Col. Lngersoll at His Brothers. Funeral.

Bob Ingersoll, says the Charlotte o.
serrer, is undoubtedly very bad lot, and
those who follow his system Of theology
will 20 the way of Wards ducks, or in
other words the way in which Johnston
County went on election day in 1876;
but for all that he is called "the eloquent
infdel," and there is more poetry and
music in him than in one out of thou
sand men, even of those who are going to
heaven. His funeral discourse over his
brother, whose system of theology was
like his own, is highly suggestive of
Dickens chronicle of the death of Little
Nell. Indeed there is hardly line of it
that would not have done credit even to
Dickens. The following is the funeral
grafton:
DEAR FRIENDS: am going to do that
which the dead oft promised he would
do for me.
The loved and loving brother, hus-
band, father, friend, died where man
hoods morning almost touches noon, and
while the shadows were still falling to-
ward the west.
He had not passed on life's highway
the stone that marks the highest point;
but being weary for the moment, he laid
down by the wayside, and using his bur-
den for pillow, fell into that dreamless
sleep that kisses down his eyelids still.
While yet in love with life and rap
tured with the world, he passed to silence
and pathetic dust.
Yet, after all, it may be best, just in
the happiest, sunniest hour of all the
voyage, while eager winds are kissing
every sail, to dash against the unseen
rock, and in an instant hear the billows
roar above a sunken ship. For whether
in mid sea or 'mong the breakers of the
farther shore, wreck at last must mark
the end of each.and all.
And every life, no matter if its every
hour is rich with love, and every moment
ieweled with q Joy, will, at its close, be-
come tragedy as sad and deep and dark
as can be woven of the warp and woof of
mystery and death. This brave and ten
der man in every storm of life was oak
and rock, but in the sunshine he was vine
aud flower.
He was the friend of all heroic souls.
He climbed the heights, and left all su-
perstition far below, while on his fore
head fell the golden dawning of the gran
der day.
He loved the beautiful, and was with
color, form and music touched to tears.
He sided with the weak, and with will
ing hand gave aims. With loyal heart
and with the purest hands he faithfully
discharged all public trusts.
He was worshipper Of liberty, q
friend of the oppressed. A thousand
times / have heard him quote these words:
"For justice all place temple and all
season summer" He believed that hap
piness was the only good, reason the only
torch, justice the only worship, human
ity the only religion and love the only
priest.
He added to the sum of human joy |;
and were everv one to whom he did q
loving service to bring blossom to his
grave he would sleep tonight beneath a
wilderness of flowers.
Life is narrow vale between the
cold and barren peaks of two eternities.
We strive in vain to look beyond the
heights. We cry aloud, and the only
answer is the echo of our wailing cry.
From the voiceless lips of the unreply.
ing dead there comes no word; but in the
mig int of death hope sees astar, and listen
ing love can hear the rustic of wing.
He who sleeps here, when dying, mis-
taking the approach of death for the re-
turn Of health, whispered with his last
breath: 81 am better now."
Let US believe, in spite of doubts and
dogmas, of fears and tears, that these
dear words are true of all the countless
dead.
And now, to you, who have been chos-
en- from among the many men he loved
to do the last sad Office for the dead, we
give his sacred dust.
Speech cannot contain our love. There
was, there is no gentler, stronger, man
lier man.