The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1893-12-26
Written For the Scdalia BAzoo.
BRONTE OEMUTh.
A Tribute BY the Famous New
York Sculptor, Wilson
Macdonald,

The flight of a human spirit from
out OF this 'puddy Vesture" OF
mortal existence is the most ordinary
and common al all changes. Twelve
hundred million of human being.
pass into the spiritual world from thi.
planet every ihirty-six yea.s.
luie,d death Is IN reality beautiful
in almost any view. if it is true, as
the agnostic say that we pass ut the
phenomenon of death Into unsympa-
thetic dust" that is peaceful, even
rrsIiul, indeed eternal rest. If, upon
the other hand, we plume our wings
with immortal pinions and go out
INFO the light of an eternal day, that
Is most beautiful and where there is
no night, but that We will meet those
we love is soul satisfying-real lovely.
harmonious and eternally progressive !,
Funerals, instead of gloom, dark
drapery, sable plumes, grief and de-
spair, should be occasions of Joy,
peace and music. This with the
aged, who have filled their mission
here, should always be joyful instead
of sad.
But when bright, intelligent,
sensitive young soul takes its final de-
pa iure from earth, il is but natural
that one should grieve. 1t is the re-
suit OF education we cannot be
reconciled to the loss.
For the young genius, my nephew,
Bronte Demuth, we mourn for a lit
lie season, we cannot help it. Our
reason tells it is better for him; our
and our loves tell another
story.
Bronte was a >uper-sensitive spirit
- u eh'id of geniu>-and in this cog
Wheel. >'.-cs,lec practical and grossly
material are, 1t wa> ..ot possible that
ne couia bo under>,Oo!. us germs
'oull not be appreciated. Tb" ord !
lary .catherers of pelf could
,ever feel the thrill. of his imp.is-
,ioned soul lie lived in luaier |
world. The ideal which i the real
world. He knew the harmony, the /;
Melody, the language Of music. He |
ived III the atmosphere Of his divine !
.rt. The voices of nature, The sigh |
ng winds and the scngs of birds fell !
lpoI his refined senses.
Glorious boy, When the scenes o. !
.arth were failing from his moltal !
;ision and he saw that he was soon
o put on the immortal robes OF the
hadow Land, his diving eyes rested |
lpon his favorite and loved violin.
lie asked that it might he
landed to him, and us his
pirit was about to take its flight,
he ran his weak, thin fingers over the
trings for the last time who can
imagine the unspeakable joy he must
ave felt as the last chords fell upon
Iis fast fading senses.
Think not, We pilgrims who survive
lin, that those melodies he invented
'ere. can ever die-they are immortal
5 lie ;s-they will live in his heart of
learts to be reproduced in other ard
lappier spheres. Nothing beautiful
an ever die. Unfortune boy! He
anne into this rude world, with all
is youth and unknown hopes
n the worlds heart; his ambition
as % charm it with melody and
lusir anil touch it to tears. There IS
% sympathy with such sou! in this
&c il which we nov I've ~ :, Ia,
eyond, tins ID, mt spirit t. II
nst gone out into the light, ~.
wake to higher life. Those that
owed him here, who are over there,
I'LL be present to greet hin on that
ther real and beautiful shore. Grief
nd sorrow engulphed him here. Joy
nd gladness will greet him there.
Who can imagine mothers joy a
he clasps her boy, her youngest born,
Gain To her bosom never to part.
| would that some tender friend
-ould plant daisies ON the mound that
overs his beloved form. For when
come 10 stand there. | know 1.-THE
aisieS lis in little wind, will move
, tell me the boy Is there. {
For little while. dear boy, good
We. Wait at the portals for your
tiectIonate uncle,
WILSON MACDoNAID.
lew York, Dee. -. 1898.
amaze Mas,iripa ~ Cvoc thu RoMaie arb ,