His life, Mr. Speaker, was a truly noble one.  It was on the highest plane.  His character had no spot or blemish upon it that sweet charity would now consign to oblivion, but it was robust, well-rounded, and symmetrical, open as day.  His ambition was not to attain but to deserve the praise of the good, and that higher benediction, to be pronounced by the final Judge of the world:  “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joys of thy Lord.”

He was an earnest believer in the Christian faith.  The abstruse doctrines of the church formed no part of his creed.  His faith was in the Christ the Saviour of mankind; a faith which illumined his pathway in life, lightening his burdens, exalting his nature, and which sustained him without fear when he met the last enemy of the race as he walked through “the valley of the shadow of death.”  It was the faith of a little child—­

                           An assured belief
    That the procession of our fate, howe’er
    Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being
    Of infinite benevolence and power,
    Whose everlasting purposes embrace
    All accidents, converting them to good.

His funeral and burial, Mr. Speaker, will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it.  The autumn sun was fast sinking behind the bright curtain of the west, bathing “the mellow autumn fields” of Old Virginia with its purple hues.  Untrumpeted by official authority, scores of friends from city, town, village, farm, and cabin gathered at Ravensworth to pay the last sad honor to their beloved friend.  White and colored, rich and poor, high and low, soldiers, citizens, and statesmen, all were there.

His body was borne from the house to the ivy-clad family graveyard by the sturdy yeomanry of the neighborhood.  In the presence of that vast throng, with uncovered heads, his comrades, who had followed him on many a hard-fought battlefield, performed the last sad rites, and with their own hands filled his grave and planted upon it the “immortelles” of their affection and devotion.  Faces that never blanched amid the storm of battle paled; hearts that never quailed in the presence of an enemy broke in the presence of the last enemy of us all, and the silent, pitiless tear which fell from the eye was hidden by the lengthening shadows of the evening, which were fast gathering round the scene.

    Beloved friend, farewell and hail! 
      Removed from sight, yet not afar,
    Still through this earthly twilight veil
      Thou beamest down, a friendly star.

    The prophet’s blessing comes to thee,
      The crown he holds to view is thine;
    Forever more thy memory
      In heaven and in our hearts shall shine.

ADDRESS OF MR. O’FERRALL, OF VIRGINIA.

Mr. SPEAKER:  These occasions of tribute-offering in this Hall never fail to impress me with extreme sadness, increase my awe and reverence of Him who holds in the hollow of His hand every moment we live and every breath we draw, and teach me the lesson of our mortality.