The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1882-01-25
All ELOQUENT GRAFTON.
Cot. :nrerGcii'3 Tficuto al
the Grave Of q Friend's
Child.

y Washington special to the IT. Ioui,
GIobc-Dcmocrdt, under date Of Jan. s,
contains the following:
In Il remote corner Of the Congress
slonal Cemetery, this afternoon, small
group Of people with uncovered heads
we're arranged around II ncwly-opcncd
grave. They included Detective and
Mrs. George A. Miller and friends, who
had gathered 10 witness the burial Of
the formers bright little son, Harry
As the coffin rested upon tac trcslc.
there was Il painful pause broken only
10y the mothers sobs, until the under.
takci advanced toward stout. nuril-
compl"Nioncd gentleman in the party
and whispered TO him, the words bcinr
maudibic to the looker-on. This gen.
tleman was Col. Robert G.. Ingcrso!I, =
friend Of the AilIIcrs, who attended the
funeral at their request. IIcthcn shook
his head aud said, "Doc3 Mr.. MilIcf3 &c,
sire tY The undertaken cave an aNir-
native mad, Mr.. Miller looked toward
the noted orator, and then hastily Col,
lngcrsoll advanced to tie side Of fine
grave and made one Of hi, characteristic.
cuIogics for the dead. He stood unpr,. /
icc;cd from tie driazIing rain, and said F..
My friends, know how vain it isto'
gid grief with words, and yet, / wish to /
take from every grave its fear. licrc
IN this world, where lie and death arai
equal kings, all should be brave enough
to meet what all the dead have met.
The future has been flied with fear
stained and polluted by the hcarlc.,
past From the woudrous tree of life,
and in the common bed Of earth the M.
iriarchs and babies side by side. WHY
should We fear that which will come lo
Ill that is? We cannot tell. We do
not know which is the greatest BLESSING ,
life or death. We cannot say thai ,
'cath is not good; we do not know =
'heiher the grave is the end Of this life "
+ the door TO another; or whether the =,
light here is not somewhere else a dawn !;
either can we tell which is more forth. !,
ate, the child dying in its mothers !
rms, before its lips have learned TO :,
'rm word, or he who JOURNEYS all the :,
myth Of lies uneven road, painfully =
lkng the lust slow steps with staA'nnd =
rutch. Every cradle asks ps !
" hence ? and every coffin, 'Whithcr p l.
he poor barbarian, weeping above his o..
cad, can answer these questions rs in. !.
diligently and satisfactorily rs the robod g
rlest of the most authentic creed. The -
arinI ignorance Of the Que is lust rs ~,
rod rs the learned aud unmcaninr ~
lris Of the other. No man STANDING y.
here the horizon Of a life las touched =
crave las any right to prophesy Il fu- y,
re flied with pain and tears. it may :. =,
that death gives all there is of worth =,
life. If those we press and strain ~
nlnst our hearts could never die. per. T.
ps that love would wthcr from the ~,
'th. Maybe this common tMe lreads ~, ~
m out the paths between our hearts -, ~.
weeds of seIlighness and hate, and | -"
l rather live and love where death is w ~,
lg, than have eternal life where love y,
not. Another life is naught, unless -
know and love again the ones who go %
cd US here. They who stand with W.
aklng hearts around this little grave n%
d have no fear The larger and no. ' J4
r faith in all that il, and is to be s''1
us that death, even at its worst, is
perfect rest. We know that
Iush the common wants Of life, the
is and duties Of each hour, their Pre-
u will lessen day by day until at Dire
these graves will be to them place GRO
est and peace, almost fjoy There
or them this consolation, The dead e
lot suffer If they live again their
viii surely be as good as ours. We terC
no fear; we are all children ofthe He
mothor, and the same fate awaits Aec
l. We, too, have our religion, and
this Help for the living, hone ]
ie dead" tbo