Weekly journal-miner., 1912-12-04
MEMORY 0F DEPARTED
 BROTHERS IS HONORED
Elks Gather Sunday in Annual Lodge Of Sorrow---Eloquent Address
 Given by Judge Smith.


 Lodge No. $50, E. r. o. F.. Sunday afternoon, at the opera house, in memury of those members who de- parted life during the year. Morris Goldwater, exalted ruler, presided, and with the assistance of the other officers of the lodge the occasion was made one long 10 be remem- bered. The departed brothers for whom the lodge of sorrow gathered were: William P. Murphy. George Walker, William o. Harreli, NJ. O.. Rollins, Charles Crider. Henry Rock mark, Joseph Mackin, Ben N. Beieh- CT, John F. Tomlinson.
 The following was the program Funeral March---Mrs Smiths or chestra.
 Opening Ceremonies-The Lodge. Quartette, "Sleep, Thy Last Sleep" Messrs C. Vyne. K. Vync. Russell, Lamson.
 1nvocation-Rev. j. Redwood Jen- kins.
 Violin Solo-"Largo,"-Miss Irene Wells, accompanist. Mrs. Leo Me Mahon.
 Rsading-"The Angel and the Star Mrs. II. T. Southworth.
 Address--Brother Frank O. Smith. Ouartette-"Rock of Ages,"-Messrs c. Vyne, R. Vyne. Russell, Lam Closing Exercise-The Lodge. Doxology-Audience.
 Benediction-Rev. J. Redwood Jen- kins.
 Music Melody "Elgie,' - Mrs. Smiths Orchestra. The memorial committee compris- ed w. H. Timerhof, chairman; J. s. Gales, Milton Tregallas, Rufus Walters and Lester Ruffner.
 Judge Spith's Address.
 The address of Judge Frank O. Smith was an eloquent tribute to the memory of the departed and words of wisdom for the living. He spoke as follows:
 Again we are gathered in solemn service to remember those who no longer answer our roll-call. Another year has come and gone and the grim hand of Time has added many names to our lengthening list of ab- sent brothers.
 Under the high tension of the rapid life we are living in this age. we cannot pause to mark the swif. passing of the weeks and months, and it is only when bleak winter reaches out its whitening arms to embrace and lock nature to it's chill ing breast that the dying leaves and flowers remind us that our friends, likewise stricken, are gone. Only then do we turn from our beaten paths of labor and pause to give them this Aeeting hour of memory and meditation.
 The gveat cities of the world have collected rare works of art in magnificent cathedrals, museums and galleries. The nations of the world glory in the immortal names of their artists. Men of wealth worship at their shrines and gather their mas terpieees for their own personal pleasure and enjoysRnt.
 But. envy not the rich their col lcetions, for every man is the owner of priceless treasures. Deep in our hearts we have treasures with which we would not part for all the wealth of the world. The snows of win ter, the breath of spring, the roses of summer, and the golden glow of autumn touch us SO gently that we do not mark the flying years, but from the seasons, as they come and go, we gather the fair, the good and the true. All that we love we remember. and add to our treasures Where is the heart that doth not
 keep
 Within its inmost core
 Some fond remembrance hidden deep
 Of days that are no morel
 When we turn aside from the noisy world and wander through our halls and galleries of memory, we live again those precious hours of the days that are no more. There, everything is just as it used to be; the old home, with the naples shad- ing the we'll; the willows down by the wooden bridge; the white school house, where the four roads meet; grandfather's barn, fragrant with newmown hay; the dusty village street; all these visions, through the