ed in the "Morte d'Arthur," Sir Launcelot "ever after eat but little
meat, nor drank, but continually mourned until he was dead." They bore him
to Joyous Gard, where he had desired to be buried, and thither came Sir
Ector, who for seven years had been vainly seeking his brother.

The second utterance is the eulogy which was pronounced by the late Robert
G. Ingersoll at the funeral of his brother, E.C. Ingersoll. Under similar
conditions of grief no deeper note has been so eloquently sounded. Colonel
Ingersoll touched the meanings of life, and, infidel though he was,
ventured a noble hope in death.

SIR ECTOR TO SIR LAUNCELOT.

And then Sir Ector threw his shield, his sword, and his helm
from him; and when he beheld Sir Launcelot's visage, he fell
down in a swoon; and when he awoke, it were hard for any
tongue to tell the doleful complaints that he made for his
brother. "Ah! Sir Launcelot," said he, "thou wert head of
all Christian knights. And now, I dare say," said Sir Ector,
"that Sir Launcelot, there thou liest, thou wert never
matched of none earthly knight's hands; and thou wert the
courtliest knight that ever bear shield; and thou wert the
truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and
thou wert the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved
woman; and thou wert the kindest man that ever struck with
sword; and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came
among press of knights; and thou wert the meekest man, and
the gentlest, that ever eat in hall among ladies; and thou
wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put
spear in the rest."

INGERSOLL'S EULOGY.

Dear Friends: I am going to do that which the dead oft
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, t