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

WHAT THE YEARS HAVE BROUGHT 329
Another, a young woman, wrote in the same paper:
He had planned to go to the convention Tuesday, and was so eager
that he got up twice in the night to see if it were not time to rise.
Then when morning came he seemed so well and so happy, and spent
the time getting ready to go and talking with those who called.
One of the hrethren spoke of that most glorious reward, the "Well
done, good and faithful servant" of the Master. Father Watkins
said: "\'es, that is a glorious promise — a glorious promise." These
words were no sooner uttered than death came to him, relieving him
of life and fulfilling all his beautiful hopes of the life beyond. They
say he died from apoplexy of the heart; who knows but what his
death was caused by the great joy which he felt in meeting old friends
and in thinking of heavenly things! He died about 11 :30 a. m. . . .
Surely it could be said of him as of Monroe: "If his soul were turned
inside out, there would not be a spot on it." He wanted to die, and
said Tuesday morning that he had prayed to Cod to take him from
the earth if He could use him no longer."
Then the editor of the paper, his friend J. H. Garrison,
goes on to say:
Blessed forever the memory of one who could inspire such reverence
and affection in a young heart! That, perhaps, was the "use
God had for him on earth" in his old age, even to manifest to the
world the sweetness and beauty and glory of a fully developed
Christian character. Blessed indeed the church that was permitted
to enjoy the benefits of his counsel and inspiration of his example.
May they not soon forget the lesson of his character and life and his
tender exhortation: "Little children, love one another."
It was on March 15, 1890, that this event occurred, and
we were without either of our parents. I remember how the
word smote my heart when it reached me in Hiram, Ohio,
where I had gone to be with Adelaide and WdHam while they
were being educated at that institution. This chapter has
not been easy for me to write. I have felt almost hke letting
my pen fall. I have wished that my work upon these records
might have been finished before so many of our family had
gone, and yet I know what we have been more free from
tragedy and untimely suffering than most families.
Our father's wife went to Des Moines, Iowa, after his death
and settled in a cottage near Drake University. There she
lived for a few years, when it was found necessary for her to
go to a hospital for an operation, under which she passed