National Republican., 1883-04-16
THE FUNERAL OF JOHN G. MILLS.
Address by Col. robert G. IngersOll.


The funeral services of the late John G..
Mills were celebrated yesterday afternoon at
the residence of Col. N. w. Fitzgerald, No.
1916 X street northwest. The spacious house
was packed with people, and the sidewalks
were lined. great number of distinguished
persons were present. The remains lay in an
elegant state casket covered with black cloth.
A silver plate was inscribed with John q.
Mills, died April IL, 1888, aged 80 years and
months" Tho floral tributes were numerous
and elegant The services began with the
playing by Prof. Ulke Of selection from
Beethoven, and Col Robert G.. lngersoll then
pronounced the following funeral address,
Again we are face to face with the great
mystery that shrouds the world We quos-
tion, but there is no reply. Out on the wide
waste seas there drifts no spar. Over the
desert of death the sphinx gazes forever, but
never speaks. In the very May of life
another heart has ceased to beat. Night has
fallen upon noon, but he lived, he loved, he
was loved. Wife and children pressed their
kisses on his lips. This is enough. The
longest life contains no more. This ILLS the
vase ofjoy.
peace of death was q kind and loving husband
and good father generous neighbor, an
honest man and these words build monu-
ment of glory above the humblest grave.
lie was always child-sincere and frank
as full of hope as spring. He divided all time
into to-day and tomorrow. Tomorrow was
without cloud, and of tomorrow he bor-
rowed sunshine for to-day.
He was was my friend. He will remain
so The living oft become estranged, the
dead are true.
He was not Christian. In the Eden of
his hope there did not crawl and coil the SER
pent of eternal pain. In many languages he
sought the thoughts of men, and for himself
he solved the problems Of the world. He ac-
cepted the philosophy of Auguste Comte. HUI
manity was his God-the human race the Su-
preme Being. In that Supreme Being he
rested. He believed that we are indebted for
what we enjoy to the labor, the self-denial,
the heroism of the human race, and that as
we have plucked the fruit of what others
planted we, in thankfulness, should plant
| for others yet to be. With him inn
own good acts He believed that every good
thought, every disinterested deed, hastens
| the harvest of universal good. This is a re-
| ligion that enriches poverty, that enables us
to bear the sorrows Of the saddest life, that
peoples even solitude with the happy millions
yet to be; religion born not of selfishness
| and fear but of love and hope; the religion
that digs wells to slake the thirst of others
that gladly bears the burdens of the unborn
In the presence of death howbeliefs and
dogmas wither and decay How loving
words and deeds burst into blossom Pluck
from the tree of any life these flowers, and
there remains but the barren thorns Of big
| otry and creed.
All wish for happiness beyond this life. All
hope to meet again the loved and lost. In
every heart there grows this sacred flower oi
eternal hope. Immortality is n word that
hope, through all the ages, has been whisper.
ing to love. The miracle of thought we
cannot understand. The mystery of death
and hope we cannot comprehend This chaos
| called the world has never been explained
| The golden bridge of life from gloom emerge'
and on shadow rests. Beyond this we do moi
know. Fate is peechless-destiny is dumb
and tho secret of the future has never YET
| been told. We love, we wait, we hope. The
more we love the moro we fear. Upon the
| tenderest heart the deepest shadows fall. All
paths, whether filled with thorns or flowers
| end here. Here success and failure are the
| same. The rag of ofwretchedncss and the purple
robe Of power lose difference and distinction
| in this democracy of death. Character alone
survivors. Goodness alone lives. Love alone
| is immortal
But to all these comes time when tho fe
vered lips of life long for the cool, delicious
kiss of DEATH Tired Of tho dust and glare
of day, they hear with joy the rustling gar
ments of the night.
What can We say of death? What can We
say of the dead2 Where they have gone
Reason cannot go, and from thence Revelation
has not come. But let us believe that over
the cradle Nature bends and smiles, and
lovingly above the dead in benediction holds
her outstretched hands.
AT the conclusion of the address Mrs. Ulke
played Beethoven's funeral march, the under.
taker, Mr.. W. r. Speare, had tho casbet
placed in an outside box of oak and the pail
bearers, Senator Van Wyck, Judge J. j. Noah,
Hon. Il. b. Murch, DIR. H. N. Howard, Prof
Henry Ulke, Mr., ID. ID. Lum, Mr.. w. w
Jackson and Col. r. l.. De Akers, bore their
silent burden 10 tho hearse 1t was placed on
the $3.50 p. M. train and carried to Port Jervis
N. Y, where interment will be had.