GLORE. John Glore, at hit residence near Florida, Henry county, Ohio, was born about the year 1821, died March 3d, 1882, aged about 58 years. He died of Asthma and Lung fever; he had long been a sufferer of that dreadful disease Asthma, and at many times in the past he had come to the conclusion that his end had come when he was gasping for breath till his face turned black. He had long been a resident of Henry county, and few men were more extensively known among us than Mr. Glore, and it was always pleasant to be In company with him, for he tried to make every one feel well and happy. The reputation of no one could suffer in his hands, for if he could not say something good about an individual he was not likely to say any harm. As a parent he was kind and indulgent, as a husband and companion he was affectionate and confiding, as a citizen he was loyal and law abiding, as a neighbor we believe he was actuated by the golden rule to do to others as he wished others to do to him. Long will his memory be cherished by his many friends and especially by those who knew him best; we trust that the community will recognize in the funeral text delivered by Rev. George W. Bechtol, pastor of the United Brethren Church, from the fifth chapter of Second Corinthians "For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands eternal in the heavens." The funeral took place at the United Brethren Church at Florida, after which his body was laid away in the cemetery two and a half miles northeast of Florida. We may truly say another man has fallen, and as might be expected, and we trust his end was peace. Although his affections were long and severe, he bore them all with christian patience and without a murmur, and in the morning previous to his death he talked to the little boys and told them to be good to mother. He leaves a grief stricken companion and a number of children and many other relatives and friends to mourn. May God comfort them in their present tribulation, until that day when they and we will meet again never to part from him in that blissful shore, where death does not come and disease It not known, but where all is joy and love. My father dear who was so near, Is taken away and gone, It grieves our hearts, 'tis hard to part With one who was so kind-- But he It gone, In dust he lies, And we are left behind. J. W.