The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921, 1903-09-26
IN NlIIMOISlAM

Homer MOuCOn, JOufnallSU,
lOgician, loyal friend, died Sept.
18th, 1908, at the age of "a
years.
He was man of simple tastes,
sturdy virtues, and broad reli
giOuS mind.
Duty in all the relations of
life was the standard to which
he endeavOred to raise his con-
duct. He made his mark upon
his time in the short while al
lOtted to him on earth, and his
name will be cOmmemOratcd
among his native people for
whom he labored, by association
with their inStitu tons of com
merce, education and charity, Of
which he was ever the steadfast
and generous friend.
OF good habits, clear head ,
and honest purposes, his actions
always proceeded upon high
planes and with a fidelity which
won for him the respect of friend
and opponent alike, and secured
for him also the gratitude and
affection of his associates.
He was strongly impressed
with the seriousness of life, and
ne possessed keen sense of the
sublime in human nature. Dur
ing his lifetime it was our habit
land our pleaSure,) to bring to
each others notice writings CON
tanning a rare idea or some beau
tiful thought, and 1 remember
that only a short time before his
death l laid on his desk the fol
lowing little poem, which he
afterward published:
1t is hard to shout when things go wrong,
And the world seems a heartless place:
/, is hard, indeed, to whistle a song,
Or go with smiling face;
1t is hard, | know, to endure, an me!
When we feel the javelir;
Eu, if all things went right there would be
no victory - win.
And 50, think, 'twcre better to take
he bitter, well as the sweet,
And hravely Lear. though the heart must
ache,
And must lie the feet:
For, life all felicity,
With never a cross for men,
Oh where would be tn: victory,
Or need Of heaven, then
His mind quickly seized the
RI
as if to echo the lofty sentiment
to which they gave expression
he handed to me to read with his
approval, this other little poem
dealing likewise with mans inn
mortality:
Out of the night that covers me,
Black the pit from pole t" pole,
I thank whatever gods may lie
For my unconquerah'e soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance.
have not WINGED ctiel aluui,
Under the blu;'gconings of chance
My heart is blonIy bat unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror OF the shade.
Md yet the menace OF the years
Finds and snail inti me unatraid.
1t matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishment, the school
l am the master Of my fate:
am the captain of my SOUL
By IFILIioUs f.. HWIr.
At peace with man, with trust
in God, he met death with the
cOmpOsure of a brave soul. We
weep over the grave of Oul
friend, but how cOnSOling the
divine assurance that what we
call death only opens to the
freed spirit of the just and the
good, the highway to a life i'm
mortal, unweighted by sorrow
Some time the secrets of this
overwhelming mystery of deatf
we shall know. But now, it is
enough that in faith we truS'
that whether this be given, OF
that withheld, yet are all things
done in wisdom and justice, a:
in love and mercy, to the sons O
men. And this was the belle
and the hope of him whose los:
we mourn.
! The deceased was my friend
and with revercnt hand I lay OF