Died Poor
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"It was a sad funeral to me," said the speaker; "the saddest I have attended for many years."
"That of Edmonson?"
"Yes."
"How did he die?"
"Poor — as poor as poverty. His life was one long struggle with the world, and at every disadvantage. Fortune mocked him all the while with golden promises which were destined never to know fulfillment."
"Yet, he was patient and enduring," remarked one of the company.
"As patient as a Christian — as enduring as a martyr," was answered. "Poor man! He was worthy of a better fate. He ought to have succeeded, for he deserved success."
"Did he not succeed?" questioned the one who had spoken of his patience and endurance.
"No, sir. He died poor, as I have just said. Nothing that he put his hand to ever succeeded. A strange fatality seemed to attend every enterprise."
"I was with him in his last moments," said the other, "and I thought he died rich."
"No. He has left nothing behind," was replied. "The heirs will have no concern as to the administration of his estate."
"He left a good name," said one, "and that is something."
"And a legacy of noble deeds that were done in the name of humanity," remarked another.
"And precious examples," said a third.
"Lessons of patience in suffering; of hope in adversity; of heavenly confidence, when no sunbeams fell upon his bewildering path," was the testimony of another.
"And high truths, manly courage, heroic fortitude."
"Then he died rich!" was the emphatic declaration. "Richer than the millionaire who went to his long home on the same day, a miserable pauper — in all but gold. A sad funeral, did you say? No, my friend, it was, rather, a triumphal procession! Not the burial of a human clod, but the ceremonials attendant on the translation of an angel. Did not succeed! Why, his whole life was a series of successes. In every conflict he came off the victor, and now the victor's crown is on his brow. Any grasping, soulless, selfish man, with a moderate share of brains, may gather in money, and learn the art of keeping it; but not one in a hundred can bravely conquer in the battle of life as Edmonson has conquered, and step forth from the ranks of men, a Christian hero. No, no; he did not die poor, but rich — rich in neighborly love, and rich in celestial affections. And his heirs have an interest in the administration of his estate. A large property has been left, and let them see to it that they do not lose precious things through false estimates and ignorant depreciations."
"You have a new way of estimating the wealth of a man," said the one who had first expressed sympathy for the deceased.
"Is it not the right way?" was answered. "There are higher things to gain in this world, than wealth that perishes. Riches of priceless value ever reward the true merchant, who trades for wisdom, buying it with the silver of truth and the gold of love. He dies rich, who can take his treasure with him to the new land where he is to abide forever. And he who has to leave all behind on which he has placed affection, dies poor indeed. Our friend Edmonson died richer than a millionaire; his monument is built of good deeds and noble examples. It will abide forever."
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