The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1899-06-26
IN EULOGY OF THE DEAD


ready to bear with the faults of con-
trite brother.
In benevolence our every act shall be
sweet as a perfumed flower, and in low
ing service we will brush away the
tears of sorrow and wreathe the face
of the bereaved with the smiles of hope
and joy.
In the language of one of the most
eloquent of modern writer's, we realize
that life is narrow vale between the
cold and barren peaks of two eterni-
ties 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 unre-
plying dead there comes no word; but
in the night of death hope sees a star,
and listening love can hear the rustic
of a wing.
They who stand with breaking
hearts around the grave need have no
fear. The larger and the nobler faith
in all that is, and is to be, tells us that
death, even at its worst, is only perfect
rest. We know that through the COM
mon wants of life-the needs and duties
of each hour-their grief will lessen
day by day, until at last this grave
will be to them place of rest and
peace-almost of joy. There is for them
this consolation: the dead do not suf-
fer If they live again, their lives will
surely be as good as ours. We have no
fear. We are all children of the same
mother, and the same fate awaits us
all. We, too, have our religion; it is
this: Help for the living and hope for
the dead"
But the poet says:
There is no death,
What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
is but the suburb of the life Elysian,
Whose portals we call DEATH"
DR.. Hammond then read from manu-
script beautiful eulogy of the dead,
synopsis of which follows:
True heroism is not confined to the
exhibition of bravery in the facing of
danger. The short and simple annals
OF the poor furnish many a striking il
lustration of that endurance of heart
and body, of that fortitude, of that un-
self1sh devotion to duty which consti-
tute the highest type of hero!sm. Some
may face death that their names may
become famous, but how many there
are in our land who daily go uncom-
plainingly to trials in comparison with
which death were easy, no record of
whose deeds can ever be made, and
whose martyrdom must always be veil
ed in obscurity. The husband toiling
daily for the barest sufficiency to keep
in meager food and scanty clothing his
beloved family; no hope beyond this for
the future and the most probable pros
poet being loss of occupation; disease,
and finally, necessary resort to public
charity.
Sad indeed is it to think of one who
must rely on graveyard architecture
alone to perpetuate his memory. Each
in his own sphere and environment is
the architect of his own best monument.
The memory of noble actions will out
last the crumbling stone or the chiseled
marble.
Probably no visitor in Syracuse
| could find the last resting place of the
| brave soldier upon the story of whose
| actions our order is founded, but can
| Pythias ever be forgotten? His mem
! Dry grows brighter with each successive
century And on the imperishable
| pages of history the deeds Of Washing
| ton, Of Lincoln, of Grant. will shine
| with ulster until time shall be no more. !
| The Silver Bow Glee club sang II
! Would Not Live Always" "The Vacant
| Chair" and THE Closing Ode"