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Show ' '" "' 'J '- ii i " Sloan Funeral. George, sixteen , or seventeen-year seventeen-year old son of Hobert W. nnd Mrs. Nettie Sloan, died Inst Friday Fri-day evening, the result of inflnm-thntory inflnm-thntory rheumatism. The funeral service was held at the family residence Sunday at noon, Bishop B. 0. Thatcher, Edmund Spencer and W. S. Lnngton 'speaking kindly of the deceased and offering offer-ing words of love nnd sympathy-to sympathy-to the bereft parents. A vocal quartette consisting of Messrs. Prank Baugh, B. G. .Thatcher, M. J. .linllard nnd 0. W. Thatcher, And n string fpinrtetto composed of ' Prof. Spicker,"r-Gebr'ge W. Tlmtclier, Miss Phyllis Thatcher and Mrs. Linnartz, rendered,, a,P 'propriatc musict Mr. nnd Mrs. SJonn linve the sincere sympnthy of n wide circle of friends who will join with tlte Snlt Lake Herald's Her-ald's editorinl expression, ns follows fol-lows : "His sun lias gone down while it wns yet morning." As they mingle their tenrs over n new-made grave at Logan today to-day mnny a henrt will throb in keenest .sympathy with Mri and Mrs. Robert W. Slonn. To them hns come one of the greatest tragedies of life, the loss of n son' in the first bloom of boyhood. At a time when he wns becoming the comrade of his father, the champion cham-pion of his mother, the boy has been cnlled to eternnl rest. There arc episodes in the lives of every one of us when human sympathy is pitifully wenk, tragically tragi-cally ineffective; there nre henrt wounds for which no enrthly bnlm may be found. To even offer sympathy seems almost a profanation, pro-fanation, nnd yet there must be for those who tiro stricken some comfort in the knowledge thnt there are henrts thnt go out to them, hearts that know how to feel for them and with them the weight of the tragedy that is theirs. Always in death there nre living liv-ing wbo nre wounded. And nl-ways nl-ways consolation may be found. Even in a case like tbis where, in the flower of his youth, a beloved boy is taken, the palliation is concealed beneath the pain. This world at best is but n little journey jour-ney 'townrds tbe infinite. The paths of some lie in pleasant places. s they walk along they pass nearly alwnys through flowers flow-ers sprend out beneath a sky of clearest blue, across a land that is flooded with sunshine. But into every life must stalk the grim figure of tragedy, With some it is a constant companion, with others only a ehnnee acquaintance. No human being lives long without it, though, whether he be cut down in vthe noontime or journeys serene nnd unnfrnid into the lengthening shadows. I , The boy who is dead is- spared the tragedy. Jle 'is sparedthe heat and the burden of the day. In the gentle sunlight of the morning he lias entered into everlasting ever-lasting pence. For him there will be no tears, no more suffering. The grief of his parents is too poignant today to permit of nny thoughts save of their present affliction. But as the tomorrows come and go "they will dull the edge of grief and bring to thoso who mourn, not fprgetfulnesa, but knowledge, the knowledge that the goodGod doeth' all things Weill .... . i ., |
