The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1882-01-19
THE GREAT SECRET.
IngersOlI's Address Over a Little
Boys Grave.

Ing tFSOll -AuufeSS ONef n LlJCl6
Boys Grave.
Washington Postl
In a remote corner of the Congress
siOnal Cemetery on Sunday afternoon,
a small group of people with uncovered
heads ranged around a newly-Opened
grave. They included Detective and
Mrs. George o. Miller and family and
friends, who had gathered 10 witness
the burial of the formers bright little
son Harry, "a recent victim of diphthe-
ria. As the casket rested upon the tres
Ties, There was painful pause, broken
only by the mothers sObs, until the un-
dertaker advanced toward a stout,
h0rld compleXiOned gentleman in the
party and whispered to him, the words
being inaudible to the lockers on. This
gentleman was Colonel Robert G.. Inger-
soil, a friend of the Millers who at
tended the funeral at their request. He
shook his head when the undertaken
nrst addressed him, and then said sud-
denly: docs Mr.. Miller desire itP''
The undertaken gave an affirmative nod,
MIR. Miller looked appealingly toward
the noted orator, and then hastily Colo
mel lngersOll advanced to the side of
the grave, made a motion denOting a
desire for silence, and in a voice of ex-
quisite cadence delivered one of his
characteristic eulOgies for the dead.
The scene was intensely dramatic. A
fine drizzling rain was falling, and eV-
cry head was bent and every ear turned
to catch the impassiOned words of elO-
quence and hope that fell from the lips
OF the distinguished speaker. Colonel
IngersOll was unprotected by either hat
or umbrella, and his invocation thrilled
his hearers with awe, each eye that had
previously been bedimmed with tears
Frightening, and sObs becoming hushed,
Colonel IngersOll said
My FRIENDS-I know how vain it is
to gild a grief with words, and yet l
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 with 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 rlpened 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 do not know
whether the grave is the end of this
life. or the door of another, or whether
the night here is not somewhere else a
dawn. Neither can we tell which is the
more fOrtunate-the child dying in it's
mothers arms, before its lips have
| learned to form word, or he who jour
neys all the length of life's uneven
road, painfully taking the last slow
| steps with staff and crutch.
! Every cradle asks us "Whence?" and
| every coffin "WhitheT?" The poor bar
barian, weeping above his dead, can
answer these questions as intelligently
| as the rObed priest of the most authen-
| fln t,n Il ..,FN
one Is just as conSOling as the learned
and unmeaning words of the other. No
man, standing where the horizon of a
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 of worth to life. If those
we press and strain against our hearts
could never die, perhaps that love
would witheT from the earth. May be
this common fate treadS from out the
paths between our hearts the weeds of
SelhshnesS 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 nObleT faith
in all that is and is to be, tells us that
death, even at its worst, is only perfect
rest. We know that through the COM
mon wants of life-the needs and du-
ties of each hOur-their griefs will
lessen day by day, until at last this
grave will be to Them place of rest and
peace-almOst of joy. There is for
them this consultations: 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 Telig-
ion, and it is this: Help for the living
Hope for the dead.
At the conclusion of Colonel Inger-
soils remarks, the little coffin, covered
with beautiful and fragrant flowers,
was lowered into it's last resting place
by the pall-beaTers, Detectives McEl-
fresh, VOss and Combs, and Mr.. John
Sergeant.