{
  "schema": "tga.work.v1",
  "identifier": "dresden:vol-12:tribute-to-richard-h-whiting",
  "slug": "tribute-to-richard-h-whiting",
  "title": "A Tribute to Richard H. Whiting",
  "subtitle": "Memorial tribute.",
  "excerpt": "Memorial tribute to Richard H. Whiting.",
  "year": 1888,
  "volume": 12,
  "category": "Tribute",
  "author": {
    "name": "Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "wikidata": "Q360326",
    "viaf": "44331023"
  },
  "isPartOf": {
    "title": "The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll",
    "edition": "Dresden Edition",
    "publisher": "C. P. Farrell",
    "year": 1900
  },
  "license": "https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/",
  "url": "https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/tribute-to-richard-h-whiting/",
  "wordCount": 468,
  "body": "A Tribute to Richard H. Whiting\n\nNew York, May 24., 1888.\n\nMY FRIENDS: The river of another life has reached the sea.\n\nAgain we are in the presence of that eternal peace that we call death.\n\nMy life has been rich in friends, but I never had a better or a truer\none than he who lies in silence here. He was as steadfast, as faithful,\nas the stars.\n\nRichard H. Whiting was an absolutely honest man. His word was gold—his\npromise was fulfillment—and there never has been, there never will be,\non this poor earth, any thing nobler than an honest, loving soul.\n\nThis man was as reliable as the attraction of gravitation—he knew\nno shadow of turning. He was as generous as autumn, as hospitable as\nsummer, and as tender as a perfect day in June. He forgot only himself,\nand asked favors only for others. He begged for the opportunity to\ndo good—to stand by a friend, to support a cause, to defend what he\nbelieved to be right.\n\nHe was a lover of nature—of the woods, the fields and flowers. He was\na home-builder. He believed in the family and the fireside—in the\nsacredness of the hearth.\n\nHe was a believer in the religion of deed, and his creed was to do good.\nNo man has ever slept in death who nearer lived his creed.\n\nI have known him for many years, and have yet to hear a word spoken of\nhim except in praise.\n\nHis life was full of honor, of kindness and of helpful deeds. Besides\nall, his soul was free. He feared nothing, except to do wrong. He was\na believer in the gospel of help and hope. He knew how much better, how\nmuch more sacred, a kind act is than any theory the brain has wrought.\n\nThe good are the noble. His life filled the lives of others with\nsunshine. He has left a legacy of glory to his children. They can\ntruthfully say that within their veins is right royal blood—the blood\nof an honest, generous man, of a steadfast friend, of one who was true\nto the very gates of death.\n\nIf there be another world, another life beyond the shore of this,—if\nthe great and good who died upon this orb are there,—then the noblest\nand the best, with eager hands, have welcomed him—the equal in honor,\nin generosity, of any one that ever passed beyond the veil.\n\nTo me this world is growing poor. New friends can never fill the places\nof the old.\n\nFarewell! If this is the end, then you have left to us the sacred memory\nof a noble life. If this is not the end, there is no world in which you,\nmy friend, will not be loved and welcomed. Farewell!\n"
}