Excerpt from Letters to My Son, Vol. 1
To William Lawrence Gordon Gibson.
My Dear Bill: During the years you were in school at Charterhouse we kept up a regular and chummy correspondence.
About the time you came home to Pittsburgh and entered the Institute of Technology, I happened to be called to Cincinnati to pay my last tribute of respect to an old friend, Mr. W. J. Murphy, Vice-President of the Cincinnati, New Orleans and Texas Pacific Railway.
On my arrival at Cincinnati almost the first individual to be encountered was Professor F. Paul Anderson, who had come there from Kentucky on the same sad errand which brought me from Pennsylvania. Anderson and I were old and intimate friends, and we went to the funeral together and sat in the same pew.
The Reverend Father conducting the service had been devotedly attached to Mr. Murphy who during his life was an excellent and deeply religious man, and had been active in church and charitable work.
In delivering the funeral oration the reverend gentleman was greatly agitated, and got quite mixed up in his eulogy. As a matter of fact it had neither beginning nor ending, and the poor man's English was past human understanding.
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