Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-01-22
a Funeral address by Robert G.. InOers0U
From the Washington POST

In remote corner OF the Congress
ional cemetery yesterday afternoon, a
small group of people with uncovered
heads ranged around newly opened
grave. They included detective and
Mrs. George o. Miller, and family and
friends, who had gathered to witness the
burial of the formers bright little son
Harry. AS the casket rested upon the
trestles, there was pause broken only
by the mothers sobs, until the
undertaken advanced toward stout
tlorid complexioned gentleman in the
party and whispered to him. This gen.
tleman was Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, a
friend of the Millers, who attended the
funeral at their request. He shook his
head when the undertaken first addressed
him, and then said suddenly: "Does
Mr.. Miller desire it," The undertaken
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 a desire for silence, and in
voice of exquisite cadence deliv-
cred one of his characteristic eulo-
gies for the dead The scene was in
tensely dramatic. A fine drilling rain
was falling, and every head was bent and
every ear turned to catch the impassioned
words that fell from the lips OF the
speaker. Col. Ingersoll was unprotected
by either hat or umbrella, and his invoca-
ton thrilled his hearers with awe, each
eye that had previously been bedimmed
with tears Frightening, aud the sobs be-
coming hushed. Col. Ingersoll said:
My friends: l know how vain 1t is to
gild a 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 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 the patriarchs 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 bless
ing-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 here is not some
where else dawn. "Neither can we tell
which is the more fortunate-the child
dying in its mothers arms before its lips
have learned to form word, or he who
Journeys all the length of life's uneven
road; painfully taking the last slow steps
with staff and crutch.
Every cradle asks US "Whence?" and
hn ho,
barian, weeping above his dead, can an
swer these questions as intelligently and
satisfactorily as the robed priest of the
most authentic creed. The tearfulignOr-
ance of the one is as consoling as the learn
ed and unmeaning words of the other. No
man, standing where the horizon of a
life has touched grave, has any right to
prophesy future filled with pain and
and tears. 1t may be that death gives all
there is worth to life. If those we press
and strain against our 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 selishness and hate,
and l had rather live and love where
death is king, than have eternal life
where love is not. Another life is naught
unless we know and love again the ones
who love us here.
They who stand with breaking hearts
around this little grave need have no
fear. The larger and the nobler faith in
all that is and is to be tells us that death,
even at it's 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, until at least this grave will be to
them place of rest and peace-almost
of Joy. There is for them this consola-
ton: The dead do not suffer. If they live
again, their lives will surely be as good as
ours. We have no fear. We are all chill
dren of the same mother, and the same
fate awaits us all. We, too, have our re-
ligion, and it is this: 'Help for the liv-
ing; hope for the dead.'
At the conclusion of Col. Ingersolps
remarks, the little coffin, covered with
beautiful and fragrant flowers, was low
cred into it's resting place,