Morris tribune., 1881-02-10
WORD PAINTING.
The Remarkable Grafton of Col. Robert G. In
gersoIl at the Grave of His Brother.

Inc RemarkaDle UfallOn OF Cm hODeFt u. HI
gersoll at the Grave of His Brother.
The following Grafton of Robert Ingersoll
at the grave of his brother, who died some
time ago, is SO tender in its sentiment. SO
touching in it's pathos, so beautiful piece
of word painting, that we reprint it, The
custom of friendly oratory over the grave of
loved and honored ones is French. 1t is
beautiful, it is appropriate, that around the
last resting place Of those we love we
should gather, covering the fresh earth with
flowers, solacing with eloquent words the
bruised feelings of mourning friends.
My FRIENDS: l am going to do that
which the dead oft promised he would do
for me. The loved and loving brother,
husband, father, friend, died where man
hoods morning almost touches noon, and
while the shadows still we're falling toward
the west He had not passed on life's
highway the stone that marks the highest
point, but, being weary for moment he
lay down by the wayside, and using his
burden for pillow, fell into that dream
less sleep that kisses down his eyelids still.
While vet in love with life and raptured
with the world, he passes 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 thea bil-
lows roar above sunken ship. For beth
er in mid-sea or among the breakers of
| the further shore, a wreck must mark at
last the end of each and all; every life, NO
matter if its very hour is rich with love,
and every moment ieweled with JOY, will
at it's close become tragedy as sad, and
deep, and dark as can be woven of the
| \ go, e%o,.x or,II
| brave and tender man in every storm OF life
was oak and rock, but in the sunshine he
was vine and flower. He was the friend of
| all heroic souls.
He climbed the heights, and left all SUI
perstitions far below, while on his forehead
| fell the golden dawning of a grander day.
He loved the beautiful, and was with color,
form, and music touched to tears. He
sided with the weak, and with a willing
hand gave aims, and with loyal heart and
with the purest hand he faithfully discharg-
ed all public trusts. He was a worshippe1
of liberty, friend of the oppressed. A
thousand times have heard him quote the
and all seasons summer" He believed that
happiness was the only good reason the only
torch, Justice the only Worship, humanity
the on " leligion, and love the only priest
He added to the sum of human joy, and
were every one for whom he did some low
ing service to bring blossom to his grave,
he would sleep to- night beneath wilder
| ness of flowers. Life is narrow vale be-
tween 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 unreplying dead
there comes no word; but in the night
of death Hope sees star, and, list
ening, Love can hear the rustic of wing
He who sleeps here, when dying, mistakine
the approach of death for the return OF
health, whispered with his last breath, 81
am better now" Let us believe, in spite
of doubts and dogmas, and tear and fears,
hatthese dear words are true of all the count.
less dead. And now, to you who have been
chosen from among the many men he loved
to do the last sad Office for the dead, we
give his sacred dust Speech cannot con.
tain our love. There was, there is, no gen.
| tier, stronger manlier man.