The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1899-04-01

age, and because he would not bow or
! bend-loved him because he accepted de-
| feat with the pride of a victor. He loved
| Grant, and in the temple of his heart, over
! the altar, in the highest niche, stood the
great soldier.
Mature was kind to our friend She
gave him the blessed gift of humor This
filed his days with the climate of autumn,
| so that TO him even disaster had its sunny
side On account of his humor he ap-
preciated and enjoyed the great literature
OF the world. He loved Shakespeare, his
clowns and heroes. He appreciated and
enjoyed Dickens. The characters of this
great novelist were his acquaintance.
He knew them al; some were his friends
and some he dearly loved He had wit of
the keenest and quickest. The instant the
steel of his logic smote the flint of alb
surdity the spark glittered And vet his
Wit was always kind. The flower went
with the thorn. The targets of his wit
were not made enemies. but admirers.
He was social, and after the feast of
serious conversation he loved the wine Of
Wlt-the dessert Of a good story that bios
somed into mirth. He enjoyed games-was
delighted by the relations of chance-tFe
curious combinations of accident He had
the genius of friendship. In his nature
there was no suspicion He could not be
poisoned against a friend. The arrows of
SANDER never pierced the shield of his
confidence. He demanded demonstration.
He defended friend as he defended him
SIT. Against all corners he stood firm, and
ne never deserted the field until the friend
had fed. 1 have known many MANY
friends-have clasped the hands of MANY
that L loved, but in the journey Of nv
life l have never grasped the hand of a |
better, truer, more unselfish friend than
he who lies before us clothed in the per- /
feet peace Of death. He loved me living /
and I love him now
In youth we front the sun; we live in |
light without fear, without a thought I
OF dusk or night We glory in excess
There is no dread of loss when all is
growth and gain. With reckless hands /
We spend and waste, and chide the f1ving |
hours for lettering by the way.
" The future holds the fruit of iov: the
present keeps us from the feast. and so.
with hurrying feet we climb the heights
and upward look with eager eyes. But
when the sun begins to sink and shadows
fall in front, and lengthen on the path.
then falls upon the heart sense of loss
and then we hoard the shreds and crumbs
and vainly long for what we cast away
And then with miser's care we save and
spread thin hands before DEFENDERS half
fed Pickering flames, while through the
glass Of time we moaning watch the few
grains OF sand that hasten to
their end. In the gathering gloom the
fires slowly die. while memory dreams of
youth, and hope sometimes mistakes the
glow Of ashes for the coming of another
morn.
But our friend was an exception. He
lived in the present; he enjoyed the sun
shine of today. Although his feet had
touched the limit of four score, he had
not reached the time to stop, to turn and
think about the Travelled road. He was
still full of life and hope. and had the in
berest of youth in all the affairs of man.
He had no fear of the future-no dread
He was ready for the end. 1 have often
heard him repeat the words of Epicurus:
why should I fear death? If l am, death
g not. If death is, I am not Why should