The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1886-06-10
ELEVEN YEARS AGO.

Address of Grover Cleveland at tho death
of Oscar Folsom.
1t is now nearly eleven years since
President Cleveland, then practicing
lawyer, delivered the following touch
ing and eloquent address at the meet
ing of the Buffalo Bar association upon
the death of Oscar Folsom, his most
intimate friend, the father of the lady
who has just become his wife.
lit has been said Light SORROWS
speak-great grief is dumb, and the
application Of this would enforce nv
silence on this occasion. But canno,
60 so far, nor let the hours pass with.
out adding a tribute of respect and love
to my departed friend. He was nv
friend in the most sacred and complete
sense of the term. l have walked with
him, talked with him, eaten with him,
and slept with him-was he not my
friend?
Il must not, dare not, recall the
memories of our long and loving friend
ship. And let not my brethren think it
amss if force back the thoughts that
come crowding to my mind. shall
speak coldly of my friend, but the
most sacred tribute of sad heart, be-
lieve me. is unspoken.
'lu the course OF life not entirely
devoid of startling incidents l can
truly say l never was so shocked and
overwhelmed as when l heard on Fri
day night of the death of Oscar Folso "a.
l had an engagement with him that
evening, and was momentarily ex-
pecting him when received the in
teiligence of his injury; and before !
reached the scene of the accident /
was abruptly told of his death. !
shall not attempt to describe nv
emotions. Death seemed so foreign to
this man; and the exurberance of his
life was so marked and prominent that
the idea of his dying or death seemed
to me homogeneous and out of place.
And before l saw him dead found
myself rejecting How strange he
would look dying or dead
II had seen him in every other part
in the drama of life-but this-and for
this he seemed untitled.
His remarkable social qualities
won for him the admiration of all with
whom he came in contact, while his
great kind heart caused all to love him
who knew him well. He was remark
ably true in his friendship, and having
really made a friend, he .grappled him
with hooks of STEEL Open and frank
himself, he opposed deceit and indi-
rection. His remarkable humor never
had intentional sting; and though i'm
pulsive and quick, he was always lust.
In the practice of his profession andl,n
the solution of legal questions he saw
which was ri ght and just. and then ex-
pected to find the law leading hindu
rectly there.
Ills it not strange to find Joined to
a jovial disposition kind and gen err
GUS heart, but he had besides these q
broad and correct judgment, and a
wonderful knowledge of men and
affairs, and the instances are numerous
in my experience when his strong COM
nonsense has aided me easily through
difficulties. Such was my friend.
The sadness of his taking off has
no alienation. Ishall not dwell upon
the narrowing circumstances. On Fri
day afternoon Oscar Folsom, in the
midday of life, was cherishing bright
antlcipations for the future. Among
them he had planned home in an adj
joining town, where he calculated upon
much comfort and quiet. He had al
ready partially perfected his arrange
ments, which were soon to be fully
contaminated. Within forty eight
short hours he reached the town of his
anticipated residence. But God had
interviewed. The hands of loving
friends bore him to home, but not the
home he had himself provided. He
found peace in the home that God pro-
vides for the sons of men, and quiet,
ali, such quiet!-in the grave. l know
how fleeting and how soon forgotten
are the lessons taught by such calami-
ties. The gay will laugh, the solemn
brow of care plod on, and each one
as before pursue his favorite phantom.
But it seems to me long, long years
will intervene before pleasant memoir
les of his life will be unmingled with
the sad admonitions furnished by the
death of Oscar Folsom.
Let us cherish him in loving remem-
brance, and heed we'll the lesson of his
death. and let our tenderest sympathy
extend to a childless father, widowed
wife, and fatherless child.
The man in the Lowell Courier who fur-
n1Shes chestnutS under the head ttNOta