His headstone reads "Harace Houx" and he is buried next to his grandfather, George Washington Houx. I believe that the headstone is incorrect because he is listed as Horace in both his sister Pearl's Bible as Horace and in the newspaper articles.
Lexington Intelligencer, October 27, 1888
IN MEMORY OF LITTLE HORACE HOUX
"There is a reaper whose name is death,
And with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between."
The aged and the young alike are gathered in life's harvest from the living of earth. One of the most beautiful and most fragrant of the flowers growing between "has been gathered by the loving Savior to adorn the mansions of light." Little Horace was a quiet, delicate child, ever thoughtful beyond his years, stealing into the hearts and affections of all who knew him and quietly removing thorns and stones from the paths of his loved ones, he had become the angel of little sacrifices among the dear ones who'll miss him so sadly. Dark indeed would it have been to his mother's love and his father's fond hopes to consign to the silence of the grave this loved one, whose noble and tender life with its sweet young charms made the sunshine of domestic joys, were it not for the bright lessons of inspiration bridging the darkness of the grave, and illuminating their vision of a brighter, happier home in the glorious habitation of God. May the thought that the harp of a new made angel has sounded its first notes of praise among the evermore blest, reconcile us in giving in tears and pain.
"The flower we most did love,
For we know we shall find it again
In the fields of light above."
A Friend.
-------------------------
His headstone reads "Harace Houx" and he is buried next to his grandfather, George Washington Houx. I believe that the headstone is incorrect because he is listed as Horace in both his sister Pearl's Bible as Horace and in the newspaper articles.
Lexington Intelligencer, October 27, 1888
IN MEMORY OF LITTLE HORACE HOUX
"There is a reaper whose name is death,
And with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between."
The aged and the young alike are gathered in life's harvest from the living of earth. One of the most beautiful and most fragrant of the flowers growing between "has been gathered by the loving Savior to adorn the mansions of light." Little Horace was a quiet, delicate child, ever thoughtful beyond his years, stealing into the hearts and affections of all who knew him and quietly removing thorns and stones from the paths of his loved ones, he had become the angel of little sacrifices among the dear ones who'll miss him so sadly. Dark indeed would it have been to his mother's love and his father's fond hopes to consign to the silence of the grave this loved one, whose noble and tender life with its sweet young charms made the sunshine of domestic joys, were it not for the bright lessons of inspiration bridging the darkness of the grave, and illuminating their vision of a brighter, happier home in the glorious habitation of God. May the thought that the harp of a new made angel has sounded its first notes of praise among the evermore blest, reconcile us in giving in tears and pain.
"The flower we most did love,
For we know we shall find it again
In the fields of light above."
A Friend.
-------------------------
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