Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

288 ANNALS OF OUR ANCESTORS
the fourteen miles to St. Cloud through the deep snow to get
the doctor, who proved to be a Catholic priest. When he
heard the description of our mother's symptoms he pronounced
her disease dropsy of the brain, an incurable sickness.
She would lie in an unconscious state for hours, and then at
intervals complain of a dreadful pain in her head. Hearing
returned to the ear made deaf by scarlet fever, and that sense
became so acute that she could hear the slightest sound.
During her delirium she would break forth in strains of
eloquence, and in most sublime diction would speak the
praises of the great Creator. Never for one moment did she
forget her harp was tuned to sacred melody, nor did she once
utter light word or jest. As the end drew near, she called
father and Ida and Datus to her side and sent last messages
of love to her absent children. Brother William as well as I
was in Ohio; Joseph was in Plainview, just establishing him-
self in business. These were her last words: "Do all diligence
to meet me in Heaven;" and she added that she loved us all to
the last.
How deep was the snow and how impassable the roads on
that sad day will appear when I state that the drifts began to
break down and traffic was pronounced impossible. Once
more our neighbor, Thomas Stanley, came to our assistance.
At one time he had been an undertaker, and he made in his
own little shop a casket for our precious mother's remains.
All through her illness of three weeks, those kind neighbors on
the prairie had done all possible to help. They made the grave
near the garden on the farm — a place she and father had once
selected for their last resting place. There she lay for more
than thirty years, when Brother Joseph had the remains removed
to his burial place in Wmona.
Time began to drag heavily with our dear father, as it had
never done before. Always he had found solace and pleasant
occupation in the study of his beloved books, especially the
devotional and critical study of the Bible; but how sad and
lonely he was after mother's death will appear in this poem
written by him in 1870: