The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-06-19

o trees which he planted here third of a century since have already be- come stately groves. As this sun shines out and this June evening fades ies of our State. there is not to be seen within it's borders a prettier spot than this.
 MT. Beardsley's end was tragic. He He had carried out his cherished plan. His health was good, his mental and physical strength unabated, and he looked forward to many years of hap piness and usefulness. He did not suppose that he had an enemy in the world. But by that strange fate which turns our very virtues into weapons for our mortal hurt, his benevolence was his destruction. His munificent gift to the city created the general belief that he was wealthy, and inspired the minds of wicked men to rob and murder him. One evening, towards the close of December, 1892, he was seated at his desk in his ii- of this city, when two masked robbers entered the adjoining room where his aged sister wa, sitting, and drove her, at the point of a. pistol, into the H- brary. As he rose to resist them, they c1utched him and after severe strug- gle forced him back into his chair, one of them pressing his knee heavily upon his abdomen, besides otherwise
 
 suit of his injuries he failed rapidly and died at ha1f-past two in the after noon of Sunday, New Years Day. 1893. His murderers were never discovered.
 This sketch would be defective, in it's most important trait, did it not state that he died, having the testi- mony of a good conscience, in the com fort of a reasonable, religious and holy hope, and in perfect charity with the world.
 The funeral took place the following Thursday. On a severe winters day, after prayers at his late residence, the body was taken to Trinity church in Nichols. where the services were held. friends attended. The Mayor of our city and other prominent citizens act ed as pall-bearers. A specially ap- pointed pointed con committee na of the Common Con non family vault at Nichols Farms was opened and in it the body was depos- ited amid the remains of many of his ancestors. The grave has rarely closed over a character of greater ex- cellence. Perhaps, by that time, he was walking on sun and moon and stars in the Garden of Paradise of God. to apply an expression of Richard Baxter's.
 Such is the brief story of the life and deeds of the subject of this statue. Simple as it is, who can doubt that it will outlive ir this community even lulS pICtlZG. Ou luS lOIilp in St. Paul's church, London, of Sir Christopher Wren, its architect, is this single sentence, 'If you seek his monu- ment, look around you.'' MT. Boards ley twined his hopes of being remem- bered in his line with this park. The desire to be remembered after we are gone, though not the earliest to be awakened, is yet the strongest pas sion in the human breast and the last to die.
 ''For who, to dumb -forgetfulness This pleasing anxious being e'er re-
 signed.
 Left the warm precincts of the cheer
 full day,
 Nor cast one longing lingering look
 behind"
 ''Een from the tomb the voice of na-
 ture cries,
 Even in our ashes lived their wonted
 fires.''
 Already all of his generation have sunk into the grave or are tottering on it's brink and all who knew him shall shortly follow. yet, today, eighty rine years after his birth we see the little children of tEis whole city troop ing here, in holiday attire, to do him honor.
 This statue is placed at the very en- trance of the Park, fronting the long avenue of approach from the city, that it may seem to welcome. as he would do if he were here, all who come. And in the coming ages. how many these