George Newton Kintzley (1856-1883)

KINTZLEY

Posted By: Dorian Myhre (email)
Date: 6/22/2015 at 17:24:15

From Ames newspaper September 1, 1883

IN THE MEMORY OF GEO. KINTSLEY

"How hard it is to give him up, and yet the grave hath won him."

It is our sad and painful duty to chronicle the death of George Kintsley, aged twenty-six years and six months. Struck down in the midst of health and happiness, just at the gate of earthly paradise, yet not allowed to enter.

Postmortem exaggerations are not necessary.

He had lived and died in our midst, with a reputation known to all; and as he lived he died, calm and peaceful leaving behind an example of pure and noble manhood.

The harvest which his young and honest hands still waits him coming, for he himself hath yielded to the harvest.

The old college bell, whose tones have roused him from his slumber and sounded the hour of retiring these many years, rang with his spirit's flight and all was over.

So patient, so hopeful, so noble, so true he was that the fatal truth sounds like a mocking upon the ear.

Ye who believe in the beauty and the strength of 'Evangeline.'

Ye who said beauty and sadness in 'Enoch Arden' or sorrow in the story of 'Romeo,' think of a tale of more woe.

Let me whisper these words sad and low-- who have loved in death, ye know how hard it is to see life go.

"Ye who believe in the strength and beauty of woman's devotion," bleeding and torn is a young heart to-night.

Sympathy, friendship, all unavailing; leave her home with her sorrow and death.

In duty's path she will find relief with surer aim, on faith's strong pinions rise, and seek hope's vanquished anchor in the skies.

Yet still in him shall fond remembrance dwell, and to the world his worth delight to tell.

Immortal hope! come lend thy blest relief, and raise the soul bowed down with mortal grief.

Teach her to look for comfort in the skies; "earth cannot give what heaven's high will denies.

The gloom of death falls heavy in the heart.

A widowed mother, sisters and brothers mourn the death of one so dear;

How calmly would that dear old mother have drank the cup to the dregs could it but restore her George.

How willingly she would have died for him.

The funeral services were conducted by Professor Knapp in the M. E. Church at Ontario, and the beautiful casket upon which reposed a wreath of pansies and an anchor, pure white, was lowered to its final resting place.

We cannot think that George is dead; but a noble life intensified by a true affection, has gone out, and if we live again his life will be high up, he was.

Letter from Capt. Brown.