The enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 188?-1899, 1894-11-07
AT HIS BROTHERS GRAVE.


The funeral Of Hon. EbOn C. mgersOll,
brother of Col. Robert G. IngersOll Of
Illinois, took place at his residence in
Washington, D. c., June 2, 1879. The
ceremonies were extremely simple con-
sisting merely of viewing the remains
by relatives and friends, and funeral
Grafton by Col. Robert G, mgersOll,
brother Of the deceased.
Soon after Mr.. mgersoll began to read
his eloquent characterization of the dead,
his eyes filled with tears. He tried tC
hide them behind his eye glasses, but
he could not do it, and finally he bowed
his head upon the dead mans coffin in
uncomfortable grief. 1t was after some
delay and the greatest efforts at self
mastery, that Col, IngersOll was able to
finish reading his address, which was as
follows:
My FRIENDS: | am going to do that
which the dead often promised he would
do for me. The loved and loving brother,
husband, father, friend, died where man
hood morning almost touches noon, and
while the shadows still were falling
towards the west. He had not passed
on life's highway the stone that marks
the highest point, but being weary for a
moment he laid down by the wayside, and
using his burden for pillow, fell into
that dreamless sleep that kisses down
his eyelids still. While yet in love with
life and raptured with the world, he
passed to silence and pathetic dust. Yet,
after all, it may be best, just in the
happiest, sunniest, hour of all the voy-
age, while eager winds are kissing every
sail, to dash against the unseen rock,
and in an instant hear the billOws roar,
a sunken ship. For, whether in mid-sea
or among the breakers of the farther
shore, wreck must mark at last the end
of each and all. And every life, no mat
ter if its every hour is rich with love
and every moment jeweled with joy,
will. at its close, become tragedy, as
sad, and deep, and dark as can be woven
Of the warp and wOOf Of mystery and
death. This brave and tender man in
every storm Of life was oak and rock, but
in sunshine he was vine and flower. He
was the friend of all heroic souls. He
climbed the heights and left all supersti
tiOns far below, while on his fOreheadfell
the golden dawning Of grander day. He
loved the beautiful and was with color,
form and music touched to tears. He
sided with the weak, and with willing
hand gave aims; with loyal heart and
with the purest hand he faithfully dis
charged all public trusts. He was
wOrshipper of liberty and friend of the
oppressed. A thousand times l have
heard him quote the words: For justice
all place temple and all season sum-
mer." He believed that happiness was
the only good, reason the only torch, JUS
tice the only wOrshipper, humanity the
only religion, and love the priest.
He added to the sum of human joy, and
were everyone for whom he did some low
ing service to bring a blossom to his
grave he would sleep tonight beneath a
wilderness Of flowers. Life is narrow
vale between the cold and barren peaks
Of two eternities. We strive in vain to
look beyond the heights. We cry aloud,
and the only answer is the echo of our
wailing cry. From the vOiceless lips of
the mreplying dead there comes no word;
but in the night Of death, hope sees
star and listening, love can hear the rus
tie of wing. He who sleeps here, when
dying, mistaking the approach of death
for the return Of health, whispered with
his latest breath, 81 am better now"
Let us believe in spite Of doubts and dog
mas and tears and fears that these dear
words are true of all the countless dead.
And now, to you who have been chosen
from among the many men he loved to
do the last sad Office for the dead, we give
his sacred dust. Speech can not contain
our love. There was, there is, no gen
tier, stronger, manlier man.