The San Francisco call., 1905-03-25

There Is no Death. What seems so Is transi-
This life of mortal breath
Is but suburb of the life elysian
Whose portal We call death.
1t was with this spirit Of resignation
the highest. noblest conception of the
Christian soul-that Jane Lathrop
Stanford was laid to rest by the side of
her loved ones gone before.
Glad broke the day over the valley
where the dead awaited sepulcher-
The dripping clouds that had hung
heavy over the house of mourning, at
midnight broke asunder, making way
for the golden sun in the east-a resur-
rection of joy after shadow.
And this was the tenor of the COM
initial service of yesterday, perhaps the
most impressive funeral ceremony seen
in California since the burial of Thomas
Starr king-and not unlike the COM
initial of the we'll beloved divine, with
out material display and without bonn
bast What demonstration there was
came from the hearts of people.
BY IL o'clock the campus. green with
the freshness of early spring, was alive
with people resident and from abroad,
bent upon paying a last tribute to the
foremost woman in California-she
whose name was to-day upon every
tongue, and voiced in tenderest tone
even by the thoughtless.
BY l o'clock crowds had massed at
the entrances to the chapel, where the
final services were to be held. But by
a sympathetic understanding between
the officers in charge and the arriving
hosts. not murmur OF dissent nor a
sound of confusion was heard above
the hum Of lowered voices.
Within the sanctuary reared By
command of the dead was scene not
soon forgotten such as see and feel
The sun was pouring in through the
splendid windows over the marble
altar, throwing a living light into the
prophetic story they strove to tell-the
Prince Of Peace, with his promise; the
crucifixion. with it's sorrow; the resur-
rection, with it's triumphs. And it was
a dramatic thing when at the height
of the service the lowering sun threw
it's rays full upon the Triumph over
Death''-a comforting thing, solace
to the sorrowing.
Soon the great church filled-and in
that gathering Of 1000 men and women
there was not a face of frivolty-not
one that might have strayed in or hap
pened in. They came and they came
with a purpose, these men and women
of activities. AS to the presence of
bitter sorrow, such as one can feel only
at a close personal loss, there was no
sham evidence-hot tears and silent
biting grief were the portion of the rel
atives and the close friends and serv-
ants.
But the students who tasted daily Of
her bounty, but who knew her only
impersonally, mourned silently, re-
spectfully. And this was the attitude
of the people-the plain people, so we'll
beloved by the dead woman. They
mourned silently and respectfully.
The psychological moment appeared
when the eight stalwart university men
bore the coffin up the aisle to the altar,
the great organ sobbing it's sorrow
A beautiful pail of violets and lilies
of-the-valley fell over the bier, which
rested where the ruby light from the
chancel windows fell upon it. On
each side stood the floral tributes, a
few wreaths. tulle-veiled; column OF
leaves, wreath bound. and a great
white cross from the devoted niece Of
Mrs. Stanford. bearing the mute salu-
tation, "Auntie." Upon the altar stood
two simple punches of Bermuda lilies
sweet tokens of Christian character
and tenderness.
Through all the service of word and
song there was oneness of thought
1t could be felt as a tangible thing
that the soul was thing that lived.