BEDFORD MAIL BEDFORD, INDIANA FRIDAY, NOV. 29, 1901 Lloyd, son of Mr. and Mrs. Ben Cupps, two and one half years old, died Monday at 4 o'clock, and was buried Tuesday at Green Hill. *********** FRIDAY, DEC. 6, 1901 The Little Grave. Out in Green Hill cemetery you will see the grave of baby Cupps, son of Mr. and Mrs. Ben Cupps, on K street. Floyd (Lloyd) was only two years and six months old when he was taken, and he was placed in a little white casket and laid away last Monday. He was a sweet baby boy and no one can know the measureless grief that fills the home in which this child of promise has lived his baby life. The world can never know or ought not to know the depth of desolation which parental hearts touch when the voice of death calls the only child. God's flowers will bear to the stricken hearted mother and father their beautiful message of love and sympathy and then we can do no more. The little man whose life has so quickly gone out had in him the prophecy of robust and intellectual manhood; he was as bright as sunshine and sweet as a rose. Lloyd will leave tokens of affection in the home that never can be forgotten. He has not lived and died in vain. He was Christ's child. Our Lord said of him and all such like, "Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Their angels do always behold the face of My Father which is in heaven. Even so it is not the will of your Father in Heaven that one of these little ones should perish." And that little grave on the sunny side of the hill teaches its lesson whither that mother and father will go often. They will know that their little darling is safe and safe forever. No tears, no storm, no trials can ever reach their darling boy now. Let us try to put their feelings into words. They would tell us of their visits to that little mound. "Yes, hither we hasten," they say to us, "night and day and in and in patting the soft grass we feel as if conveying some sense of love to the little sleeper far down. Let us have our way. We can never forget our little boy. Baby was so young when like a dew drop he went up to meet the warm sun, yet he left our hearts, as we have seen ground left out of which a storm had taken a great tree." Ah, you talk about the power of great thinkers and speakers and great writers, but what about the influence of a baby's power? Oh child of our hearts, no poet has been so practical, no soldier so victorious, no benefactor so kind as thy tiny unconscious self. We feel now thy soft kiss on our lips and would give all we have for one look into thy sweet blue eyes and for one more smile from thy sweet face. But we can not have it now. Yet God is love. "Some sweet day some sweet day" this is all we can say now. Not dark doubt not staggering argument, not sophism, but child death makes us wonder and cry in pain especially where there is but one. Baby! Baby! We could begin the world again without a loaf and without a friend if we have but thee. It would be welcome poverty it would be welcome misery! We shall not wonder that the summer grass will grow over that little grave and that the summer birds will sing their tenderest notes, as they sit on the branches of the trees near by. Oh Father in Heaven, is not the loss of a dear little child the heaviest cross which crushes the heart of man in his weakness? Yet that green grave, not more than three feet long, is to us rich with precious, precious memories. We can pray there, we can hope there, we can weep there. There we meet our darling angel. There we see all the mothers and fathers whose spirits are above and who have joined their dear ones. And there our hearts are saying, by the grace of God, "Baby we are coming, coming soon." Will you know papa and mamma? Do you see us? Do you look down from sunny places and remember those who loved you dearer than life? Oh baby, baby, we will try for your sake to be better than we have ever been. We shall not slight those little beckoning hands. And we will be kind to other little babies and tell them, we too had a sweet little baby, and we will let them play with your toys but Oh baby, baby how our hearts sob and break. BY A FRIEND.