The times and democrat. [volume] (Orangeburg, S.C.) 1881-current, 1909-10-02

TOul lu6 ullu ITllAShI
To endless day"
1t Is hard for Edgefield to realize
that Col. James T. Bacon, the loved,
the admired, the benefactor of all,
has passed away.
Only a few days since, as he lay
on his bed of suffering, he gazed
lovingly into the eyes OF his sister,
who was dearer to him than aught
else on earth, and said, with deepest
feeling: You and I have gone
hand In hand through the deep Red
Sea, but now I leave you to so out
alone into the great beyond.
In the peaceful grave they have
laid him to resin the village ceme-
terry, near his sainted mother, Mrs.
Sarah Agnes Wigfall, who died a
few years ago, and close beside
the resting place Of his grandmother.
1t seemed like giving him back to
the arms that had Graded and car
ressed him. He never wearied speak
ing of their love and goodness to
him. His face would soften, his
voice tremble, when he recorded In
cidents of boyhood's days, and his
great love and devotion to these no.
BILE women. Not as the wit, not as
the journalist, no as the brilliant
editor, will the memory of James I.
Bacon linger longest in the village
to which he gave his life, but as the
helper Of the helpless, the comfort
er of the afflicted, the uplifeter of the
desolate, the support of the needy,
the widow, the fatherless. In his
whole career there was no thought
of self, only Of what he could give
or do for others.
When sonjourning few years ago
in Europe, surrounded by wealth and
adulation, his letters home all breath
ed OF loving devotion and a yearnins
to shield them from care and
trouble.
His amusing letters, written to
The News and Courier describing
New York's subway, his ocean voy-
age, his observations of Europeans,
scintilated with a freshness AMI
originality peculiarly his own,
quality lacking In many world re-
nowned humorists. The editor of 4
New York daily copied an article
written by Mr.. Bacon, describing
party in Edgefield and added:
The person who wrote that piece
ought to leave the small village of
Edgefield and come to New York,
where he would make fortune.
His European letters always brought
tears of laughter to the eyes of the
readers. The same mail would
bring letter with foreign stamp
to the home folks-so full Of patho7
of heart-sickness, to join the dear
circle that it's pages would be blot
ted with tears.
Artistic in every sense, Mr.. Bacon
had passion for music He had
studied in Germany under famous
masters; his technique was thorough,
his execution faultless. He played
with the expression of one to whom
music was souls prayer.
One of his chief pleasures was gar
denilg His lilies and carnations
were beautiful, but his roses were
like the little children he petted and
gathered around him, the lovliest
ever seen. Among them he seemed
like loving dreaming boy; no trac-
es Of age or suffering lined his brow
when looking into the fair innocent
faces if Gods children.
A man with his talents, his genius,
could have gone into the big world
and carried an immortal name for
himself on the tower of fame, but his
deep love for his own people made
it Impossible for him to leave Edge
field.
He is sleeping now with the flow
ers he loved so we'll above him, but
his spirit will live forever in the
hearts of those who knew him.
Can toried urn or animated bust
Back to it's mansion call the fleet.
Ing breath?
Can Honors voice provoke the silent
dust;
Or fatt'ry soothe the dull. cold
ear Of Death?"
Mrs. MCGOWAN Simkins.