EULOGY

A loving tribute to the memory of Cleveland Cone by his teacher, B. H. Culbreth.

Whom the Gods love, die young; Was said of yore.

This morning - Monday - our town is shrouded in profound gloom. A guest has visited one of our homes - a guest unbid - who, armed with resistless power, remained without a welcome from his host. For nine long days, this guest loitered around the room with lawless freedom, and at night, would stalk into the room, and cast his shadows on the walls. At last he grew more familiar, and bending lowly over the couch, called the noble, generous spirit of Cleveland to the God, who gave it. There is something exquisitely touching in the tolling of a church-bell amid the silence of quiet country folks. The plowman stops his horse to listen to the solemn tidings of mortality. The sympathizing mothers forget their work, and with the needle suspended tremulously over the garment before them, give a deep sigh, and wonder who it is that is gone to his long home; And the innocent children, cheerful as their glee, and merry as their songs, pause amid their merry gambols and catch the melancholy sound and cover their little heads when they go to bed at night. And this is death.

If a man die, shall he live again? Yes; and more abundantly.

Cleveland died at the approach of morning, just as the stars were fading away, one by one, from the gray heavens, and night had slowly receded before the approach of golden morn. It was one of the loveliest customs of the ancients to bury their young at early morning twilight. They gave a soft interpretation to death, believing that Aurora, the goddess of light, who loved the young, took them to her soft embrace, and forever looked after their happiness. Better for us, that we should think more of the happiness and beauties of Heaven, than have such fearful concern about that other place. Is there anyone so faithless as to believe that God will not provide for those for whom his Son died!

I believe that my young friend, Cleveland, is safe in the embrace of a loving Savior. He left this life just as he was merging into the prime of manhood. He was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Warren Cone of this place. He was a pupil of the Barwick school, and be it said to his credit, that during two terms, her never had to be corrected. He knew his duty and always did it.

(This far along it is uncertain exactly what malady brought about Grover's death. We know that he had contracted measles and had sat out on the porch on a rainy night prior to his passing.)


*Grover Cleveland Cone was my great Uncle. I found this eulogy to be among the finest and most eloquent I have ever have the privilege of reading.