Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1882-01-31
whence and whittier,
Washington Post.

!" 'euhote corner Of the Congress
slonal cemetery yesterday afternoon.
small group Of people with uncov-
eredsheads ranged around a newly-;
opened grave. They included Detec-
tive and Mrs. George O. Miller, and
family and friends, who had gathered
to witness the burialof the formers
bright little son Harry. AS the cas-
ket rested upon the trestlcs, there was
painful pause broken only by the
mothers sobs, until the undertaken ad-
vanced toward stout, forid- complex
loned gentleman in the party and
whispered to him. This gentleman
was Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, friend
Of the Millers, who attended the fu-
neral at their request. He shook his
head when the undertaken first ad-
dressed him, and then said suddenly:
docs Mr.. Miller desire it," The un-
dertaker gave an affirmative nod, Mr..
Miller looked appealingly toward the
noted orator, and then hastily Col
Ingersoll advanced to the side Of the
grave, made a motion denoting the
desire for silence, and in voice of
exquisite cadence delivered one of his
characteristic eulogies for the dead.
The scene was intensely dramatic. A
fine drizzling rain was falling, and ev-
cry head was bent and every ear
turned to catch tue impassioned words
that fell from the lips OF the speaker.
Col. lngersoll was unprotected by Ell
thcr hat or umbrella. His invocation
thrilled his hearers with awe, each eye
that had previously been bedinmed
with tears frightening, and the sobs
becoming hushed. Col. IngersoIl
said 6 Ia 3.
Ny FRIENDS: | know how vain ii
is to gild grief with words, and yet
| wish to take from every grave its
fear. Here in this world, where life
and death are equal kings, all should
be brave enough 10 meet what all the
dead have met. The future has been
filed with fear, stained and polluted
by the heartless ast. From the Won
drous tree of life the buds and BIOS
SONS fall with ripened fruit; and in
the common bed of earth the patrl-
archs and babes sleep side by side.
Why should we fear that which
will come to all that is? We cannot
tell, we do not know, which is the
greater l;lessing, life or death. We
cannot say that death is not good
We do not know whether the grave is
the end of tits life or the door OF an
other, or whether the night here is
not somewhere else a dawn. Neither
can we tell which is the most fortunate
the child dying in lis mothers arms
before its lips have learned to form a
word, or he who journeys all the
length of lifc's uneven road, painfully
taking the last slow steps with 'staf1
and crutch. Every cradle asks Us
whence" and every coffin "Whlth
err" The poor barbarian, weeping
above his dead, can answer these
questions as rntelligently and salts
factoriIy as the robed priest OF the
most authentic creed. The fearful
ignorance of the one is just as consol-
ing as the learned and unmeaulng
words of the other. No man, stand
ing where the horizon OF llte has
touched grave, has any right to
nropesy future filed with pain and
tears. 1t may be that death gives
all there is of worth to life. II those
we press and strain against on'
hearts could never die, perhaps that
1--we would wither from the earth