The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1905-02-10
THE LAST HOME COMING.
Charles N. Butler Brought to HIS
EnaiEarthy Rest.
Funeral servicesat the Presbyterian Church
Sunday-Text of the Appropriate sermon
by Rev. III. w. Harvey.


whose death at Whitehall was mentioned
in this paper last week, was held in the
Presbyterian church in this village at
1890 Sunday morning. A large lumber
of Masons attended in body, and con
Quoted the burial service of the order at
the grave in the Wildey cemetery. The
funeral service was largely attended, Mr..
Butler having been a prominent and pop
ular resident of this community for
many years. The service was conducted
by Rev. H. w. Harvey, assisted by Rev.
c. e. Hutfer. The music was by quar-
tette, Mrs. Ferguson, Miss Slovenian,
Messrs Spicer aud WEIGH; solo was also
sung by Edward Merrill.
REV HARvEY's SERMON.
Brought home to rest. We pause here
a moment TO surround him with this
old time and familiar scene. 1t is break
in the Journey There are those here
who have known him from childhood
who will want to see his face again;
there are some who will want this quiet
hour to re live the years in which he
took a part.
There is pathos in this brief pause
the picture of vigor and strength which
we once knew exchanged for this OF
utter inability; the old-time play OF
feature and expression exchanged for
this rigidity and silence; he who was so
companionable, now so passioness and
still, lying without the power OF greeting,
with no word or look of recognition, no
welcome to these friends who have come
to meet him on his return home. Gloss
it as we will, the closing scene OF life is
like the closing scene of the year, "Tis
an hour for memory and for tears"
This is the last home coming. Each
year he has been one of the happy num-
Der who have returned TO spend week
among old friends and scenes. Last
August be was here. The August before
he was here. Now he comes again in
the depth of winter to spend not home
coming week but a home coming cycle of
years.
"Till the stars are no more, and the
sea to its shore and the earth to its core
crum5les into the DUST" this is mis- final
earthly home.
He would not wish it otherwise. He
is to lie in spot just across the street
from where he was born. His cradle
and his grave are but a few rods apart.
In sight of his last resting place he played
as boy Along the very street that
skirts the cemetery he went to school.
Some of the neighboring fields he helped
to subdue. Here also, across this street
in the old village school house, he re-
l. l. / In
neighboring districts he taught those
who are now men and women. Here he
married his young wife and established
his new home. Here his child was born.
Here with his wife be received his friends
in the old days, for they both were al
ways of a social nature. Here for four
years he was county officer and after
wards was a merchant in our village. His
whole life history was written here.
This whole scene was familiar to him
from the time that he first opened his
eyes upon the world. What so suitable
as that he should sink into it at last and
mingle his dust with the very dust OF
the scene that had grown to be part oil
him. 1t may be but a sentiment, but IT
is beautiful, this love for the childhood S
home, this instinct for return as strong
as that of the birds. At last the journey
for the final home coming He could not
wing his owD way back, but kindred
honored the final wish, and here he Is al
last, soon to be housed within the sacred
dust.
1t does not matter where we sleep, we
say. IT'S true. Any other spot would
have given him sepulcher. New made
friends would have laid him away relig
iously, other lips would have spoken his
eulogy, other singers would have SUNG
his requiem, other brothers of his craft
would have consigned him to the grave
and with uplifted hands commended his
soul to God. Still all this would lacl
the familiar accent 1t would be the
ministratons of almost strangers In &
strange land.
How the home corners are dropping
away! Here lies one. In California Is
another, Mr.. Annable. How active the!
both were in that frst year of greeting
Two of the seemingly strong men then
only little past the noontime of life
with long bright afternoon of existenc,
DeIOTe LUbuls anu uOW VIC Sldli SSb dD'
hear them no more. What commen
tary upon the crumbling quality of on
human ties, so fragile, so riven with I
breath, so solvent in the gentlest heat
How Unexpectedly they melt away. /
continual surprise awaits US. No soone
does one sad marvel pass than anothe
flashes upon us. But such a changefu
world is better than world of stagna
ton. This dissolving view of life has it
charm, even though it has its pathos
There is a beauty about it that coulc
never come from fixity or rigidness. Tn
colors change. The scene is foreve
shifting. These men suddenly drop on
of our view. They march out of on
line of vision They sweep on amid tina
vast and invisible company that is seek
ing a country that is permanent, just a
the winds of the sky and the floods o
the rivers and the pillows of the sea
rush on to find their place of rest.
One of the lessons taught here to-da
is that of friendship. 1t is that myster
ious bundle of afiinities that hold