r of the deceased. A large
number of distinguished gentlemen were present, including Secretary
Sherman, Assistant Secretary Hawley, Senators Blaine, Vorhees, Paddock,
Allison, Logan, Hon. Thomas Henderson, Gov. Pound, Hon. Wm. M.
Morrison, Gen. Jeffreys, Gen. Williams, Col. James Fishback, and
others. The pall-bearers were Senators Blaine, Vorhees, David Davis,
Paddock and Allison, Col. Ward, H. Lamon, Hon. Jeremiah Wilson of
Indiana, and Hon. Thomas A. Boyd of Illinois.

Soon after Mr. Ingersoll began to read his eloquent characterization of
the dead, his eyes filled with tears. He tried to hide them behind his
eye-glasses, but he could not do it, and finally he bowed his head upon
the dead man's coffin in uncontrollable grief. It was after some delay
and the greatest efforts of self-mastery, that Col. Ingersoll was able
to finish reading his address, which was as follows:

My Friends: I am going to do that which the dead often promised he
would do for me. The loved and loving brother, husband, father,
friend, died where manhood's morning almost touches noon, and while the
shadows still were falling toward the west. He had not passed on
life's highway the stone that marks the highest point, but being weary
for a moment he lay down by the wayside, and, using his burden for a
pillow, fell into that dreamless sleep that kisses down his eyelids
still. While yet in love with life and raptured with the world, he
passed to silence and pathetic dust. Yet, after all, it may be best,
just in the happiest, sunniest hour of all the voyage, while eager
winds are kissing every sail, to dash against the unseen rock, and in
an instant hear the billows roar over a sunken ship. For, whether in
mid-sea or among the breakers of the farther shore, a wreck must mark
at last the end of each and all. And every life, no matter if its
every hour is rich with love, and every moment jeweled with a joy,
will, at its close, become a tragedy, as sad, and deep, and dark as can
be woven of the warp and woof of mystery and death. This brave and
tender man in every storm of life was oak and rock, but in the sunshine
he was vine and flower. He was the friend of all heroic souls. He
climbed the heights and left all superstitions far below, while on his
forehead fell the golden dawning of a grander day. He loved the
beautiful and was with color, form and music touched to tears. He
sided with the weak, and with a willing hand gave alms; wit