San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1882-01-26
Another Funeral Address From Col.
Robert u. Ingersoll. .


Robert q. Ingersol'.
A year OF two since, an address OF
Col. Ingersoll at the funeral of his
brother, went therounds Of the press,
and was much admired for its elo-
quence and pathos. Quite recently he
delivered another at the funeral
of child, which is not less remark
able. We copy 1T below. The reader
we think cannot fail to see in this
utterance of an avowed infdel to the
Christian faith the unquestionable in
Auence of that faith, however uncon-
sciously to him, on his mind and heart.
Where else could he have derived
his "hope for the dead" beyond their
"perfect rest?" Even this avowed
atheist finds comfort in the traditions
of the Christian faith. The speech is
permeated throughout by yitsinfuence.
We think the idea would be quite in
conceivable of purely pagan phil
osopher making such ON address on
such an occasion.
Washington Special to Cincinnati Enquirer.
At the funeral of the little son OF
George o. Miller, detective and an
active politician of this city, this after
noon, Bob Ingersoll officiated. There
was no service at the house. The
coffin was taken to the Congressional
Cemetery, where Colonel Ingersoll
joined the funeral party. He madea
brief address when the coffin had be en-
lowered into the grave. The folltw-
ing is the full text of his oration:
My Friends-I know how vain It is
to gid grief with words, and vt |
wish to take from every grave it's fear.
Here in this world, where life and
death are equal kings, all should be
brave enough to meet what all the
dead have met. The future has been
filled with fear, stained and polluted
by the heartless past. From the
wondrous tree of life the buds and
blossoms fall with ripened fruit, and
in the common bed of earth patriarchs
and babies 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 blessing-life or death. We
cannot say that death is not good,
We do not know whether the grave
is the end Of this life or the door OF
another, or whether the night there is
not somewhere else a dawn. Neither
can we tell which is the more fortr-
nate-the child dying in it's mothers
arms before it's lips have learned to
form word, or he who journeys all
the length of lifes uneven road, pain
fully taking the last slow steps with
staff and crutch. Every cradle asks
us, "Whence?' and every coffin,
"Whither?" The poor barbarian,
weeping above his dead, can answer
these questions as inteligently and
satisfactorily as the robed priest OF
the most authentic creed. The tear
full ignorance of the one is just as
consoling as the learned and unmeap-
ing words of the other.
No man standing where the horizon
of life has touched grave, has eny
right to prophecy future filed with
pains and tears. Itmay be that death
gives all there is of worth to life. If
those We press and strain against otir
hearts could never die, perhaps that
love would wither from the earth.
May be this common fate treads from
out the paths between our hearts the
weeds of selfshness and hate; l had
rather live to love where death IS king
than have eternal life where love IS
not. Another life is naught, unless
we know and love again the one who
loves us here.
They who stand with breaking
hearts around this little grave need
have no fear. The larger and nobler
faith in all that is, and is to be, tells
us that death, even at the worst, Is
only perfect rest. We know that
through the common wants OF life
the needs and duties Of each hour
their grief will lessen day by day, un-
till at last this grave will be to them
a place Of rest and peace-almost Joy
| There is for them this consolation
The dead do not suffer. If they I've
AGAIN, their lives will surely be as goo 3
as Ours.
We have no fear. We arc al chil-