The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1917-11-06
DIR. F.. Y. PRESSLY'S ADDRESS
AT THE FUNERAL OF
MRS. LILA MORSE BONNER
(The A. R. Presbyterian.)

c]umstances that distinguish it, we all
come to the same end. st is ap-
pointed unto men once to die"
Whether high or low, rich or poor
noble or ignoble, learned or un-
learned, all distinctions are lost in
the grave. We play u little part
on the stage of life, and quickly pass
away into silence and forgetfulness.
The Pslamist puts it graphically:
GAS for mar his days are as grass"
What is more ephemeral than grass?
In the morning it groweth up, in the
evening it is cut down and withereth.
"As for man his days are as grass;
as a flower of the field so he flour
isheth, 70 rthe wind passeth owe it
and it is gone; and the place there
Of shall know it no more" A flower
Of the field! Suddenly il unfolds
it's petals to greet the rising sun,
a its cen ser of fragrance il the
passing breeze, but ever while We adj
mire it Groops and passes away, leav-
ing no mark behind it. "The place
thereof shall know it no more" How
striking is this symbol, and withal
how true to fact! The folded hands,
the sightless eyes, the unhearing ears
the pulseless heart, the shroud, the
grave; and the one brief chapter in
the history of a life comes to an
end.
But this is not all the truth. Life
has another aspect. Men do not die;
they live on in the words they have
spoken, in the deeds they have done,
in the influences they have set into
motion, and in the characters they
have builded. Our earthly existence
is only a term of seed-sowing, and
those of us who live longest see on
ly the first fruits of the harvest that
is to be gathered.
Yesterday, the announcement pass
ed from lip to lip, "Mrs. Bonner is
dead The telegraph flashed the
tidings to far distant places; and ev-
erywhere the announcement was re-
! ceived with sadness and sorrow. We
all said, "a beautiful and useful
life is ended" But not So. Only
the first brief chapter was ended;
there remains much to be written
yet. Her time of seed-sowing was
long, her tired hands had lost their
skill, her weary feet had lost their
bouyancy, and she fell to sleep. But
the end is not come. Her days of
service we're extended beyond the
appointed span of human life; she
was permitted to see and to rejoice
in many of the precious fruits OF
her labors, but she could not see, nor
can we, the full harvest that is yet
to be garnered.
Measured by the ordinary stand
ards that the world applies, her life
was not a success. She did not win
far-extended fame, nor did she amass
wealth. But neither of cheese were
objects of thought and care. These
were not the awards that lured her
onward through the long years of
s~elf-denying labor. She had a higher
and correcter estimate of values.
Her energies of body and soul were
concentered on nobler aims; and
who in the disillusioning light of
this solemn moment will feel that
she did not choose wisely?
I will not attempt to speak in de-
tail of her life. The facts are known
to most of you, inasmuch as the lar
ger part of her active life was spent
in this community. At the tender
age of eighteen she came from her
northern home to the Southland to
begin her career as a teacher. With
rare wisdom and tact she fitted her
self into her surroundings, and that
too under conditions most difficult,
for the civil war soon began. When
she came to the Due West Female
College it vas the day of small
things. The infant institution, born
at a time apparently most inoppor-
tune, was a pioneer in the field of
the education o fwomen, Everything
seemed to fortoken failure, and only
a heroic faith and devotion to duty
could nerve the hearts that fostered
it. But neither of those was lack
ing. To me the passing over of Mrs.
Bonner is especially sad because it
lrea.3 Tie last link that binds US to
that splendid, heroic past. From the
very beginning she identified herself
with the struggling institution, made