Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1882-01-19
aWHENCE AND WHITHER?" ?"
The Eloquent Ingersoll at a Little
Boys Grave.
Washington Post of Monday.


Boys Grave.
Washington Post of Monday.
In remote corner Of the Congression-
al Cemetery on Sunday 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 of the formers bright
little son Harry, recent victim Of diph-
liberia. As the casket rested upon the
trestles, there was painful pause, bro
ken only by the mothers sobs, until the
undertaken advanced toward stout,
fiorid complexioned gentleman in the
party and whispered to him, the words
being inaudible to the lookers-on. This
gentleman 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 address,
ed him, and then said, suddenly: "Does
Mr.. Miller desire it?" The undertaken
gave an affirmative nod, Mr.. Miller
looked appealingly toward the noted or
ator, and then hastily Col. Ingersoll ad-
vanced to the grave, made motion de-
noting silence, and in voice of exquis-
ite cadence delivered one of his charac-
teristic eulogies for the dead. The scene
was intensely dramatic. A fine drizZling
rain was falling, and every head was
bent and every ear turned to catch the
impassioned words of eloquence and
hope, that fell from the lips of the dis
tinguished speaker. Col. Ingersoll was
unprotected by either hat or umbrella,
and his Innovation thrilled his hearers
with awe, each eye that had previously
been bedimmed with tears frightening,
and sobs becoming hushed. Col. Inger-
soil said:
Ny FRIENDs-I know how vain it 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 to meet with all the dead have
met. The future has been filled with
fear, stained and polluted by the heart
less past. From the wondrous tree of
life the buds und blossoms fall with ri
pened fruit, and in the common bed of
earth the patriarchs 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 do not know
whether the grave is the end of this life,
OF the door of another, or whether the
night here is not somewhere else a
dawn. Nither can we tell which is the
more fortunate-the child dying in its
mothor's arms, before its lips have learn
ed to form word, or he who journeys
all the length of life's uneven road, pain
fully taking the last slow steps with
staff and crutch.
Every cradle asks us "Whence ?" and
every coffin 'Whither?" The poor bar
barian. weeping above his dead, can an
swer these questions as intelligently and
satisfactorily as the robed priest of the
most authentic creed. The fearful ig-
norance of the one is just as consoling
as the learned and unmeaning words of
the other. Ne man, standing where the
horizon of life has touched a grave,
has any right to prophecy future filled
with pain 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 selfshness and hate, and had rather
live and love where death is king, than
have eternal life where love is not. An
other life is naught, unless we know and
love again the ones who love US here.
They who stand with aching hearts
around this little grave need have no
fear. The, larger and the nobler faith
in all that is to be, tells us that death,
even at its 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 at last this grave will be
to them a place of rest and peace-al-
most of joy. There is for them this con-
ISOLATION: 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 children of the same mother, and
the same fate awaits us all. We, too,
have our religion, and it is this: Help
for the living-Hope for the dead.
At the conclusion of Col. Ingersoll's
remarks the little coffin, covered with
beautiful and fragrant flowers, was low
cred into its last resting place.
Edward Warlield, one Of the largest
planters on the Yazoo River, was killed
in the machinery of his ginning house.
Gen. Hancock has resigned as Presi-
dent of the National Rifle Association,
and has been succeeded by Gen. e. L.
Nolineaux.
The Kentucky House has passed
bill to strike from the statutes impIis-
onments for life for murder, but it is
thought the Senate will defeat it.
The burning of dry Christmas tree
in the residence of VIM. Kurtz, New
York, caused the destruction of twenty
oil paintings, valued at $4,000.
At Richburgh, n. Y, drunken man
aamed George Holly, fired three shots
nto crowd of men. Louis Wasson
was struck in the groin and will proba-