The Saline County journal. [volume] (Salina, Kan.) 1871-1893, 1882-11-16


In . remote corner Of the Congress
sional cemetery 1t Washington, q
small group of people. with uncovered
heads, were arranging around newly
opened grave. They were Detective
and Mrs. George A Miller and friends,
who had gathered to witness the
burial of the formerly bright little son
Harry A. The coffin rested upon the
treaties, there was q painful pause,
broken only by the mothers sobs IN.
til the undertaken advanced toward
stout, lorid complexioned gentleman
In the party, whispered to him, the
words being inaudible to the lockers
on. The gentleman was Colonel
Robert IngersoIl. . friend of the Mil
lers, who attended the funeral ut their
request. He then shook his head and
said:
docs Mr.. Miller desire IL ="
The undertaken gave an Affirmative
nod. Mr.. Miller looked toward ::the
noted orator, and then Colonel Inger-
soil hastily advanced TO the side of the
grave, and made one of his character
istic eulogies for the dead He stood
unprotected from the drilling rain,
and said:
MY friends, you know how vain Il
is TO gid grief with words, and yet,
wish to take from every grave its fears.
Here i'm the 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 tears, stained and polluted
by the heartlcss past. From the won
drous tree Of life. the buds and bios
Soms fall with Iipened fruit, and In
the common bed of earth the patri-
archs and 0abes sleep side by side;
Why should We fear that which will
come to all that is? We can not tell
We do not know which Is the greater
blessing-iife or death. We can not
say that death Is not rs good we do
not know whether the grave Is the |
end of this life or the door Of another, |
or whether this night here is not
somewhere else nj dawn. Neither can
we tell which Is the more fortunate;
the child dying in its mothers arms.
before Its lips have learned To form b
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 u-.
'Whence?' and every coffin, Whittier
The poor barbarian, weeping above |
his dead, can answer IA intelligently
and satisfactorily ms the robed priest |
Of the most authentic creed. The |
fearful ignorance of the one il just rs |
good as the learned and unneaning
words of the other. No man standing |
where the horizon of a life has touched |
q grave, has any right TO prophesy q /
future filled with pain and tears. 1t |
may be that death gives all there IL of |
worth to life. III 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 selfishness and /
hate, and had rather live and love
where death is king, than have eter-
nal life where love Is not. Another
life In naught, unless we know and /
love again the ones who loved us here.
Those who stand with breaking
hearts around this little grave, need
have no fear. The larger and the
nObler faith in all that Is, and il 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 griefs will lessen day by day,
until Mt last these graves will he q
place Of rest and peace-almost OF
Joy. There Is for them this consola-
ton the dead do not suffer. Ii they
live again, their lives will surely
be 40 good as ours. We have no fear (;
we are all children Of the same mother
and the same fate awaits; us all. We
TOO have our religion, and il is this
Help for the living, hope for the
lead"
At the conclusion of the eloquent
,ration, the little coffin was depos
ted in Its last resting place. covered
With nowers .