From the Anderson Democrat newspaper, January 6, 1882:
It is our painful duty, this week, to record the rather sudden death of Mrs. Sophia Biddle, wife of the present efficient Sheriff of the county, who died of lung fever after an illness of a few days, at the Sheriff's residence on corner of Washington and Jackson streets, on Friday afternoon last week. She was buried Sunday, in the Baptist cemetery near Columbus, being followed to her last resting place by a large concourse of friends.
Mrs. Biddle was born in Pasquotank county, North Carolina, March 24, 1830, and moved with her father's family to this county and settled on Fall Creek, July 16, 1832. She was married to Randle Biddle Oct. 10, 1850, with whom she has lived happily, devoting her time and energies to promote the comfort and happiness of her husband and children.
Such was her manner of life, her gentleness and love, and patient forbearance that she was more than loved - she was idolized by her children and husband, who are left sorrow stricken and disconsolate indeed by her death.
The old saying "that death leaves a shining mark," has proven only too true in her case as she was the "sunshine" of the Biddle household - the charmed center of attraction of a large group of personal friends who knew and appreciated her worth.
"No single virtue we could most commend,
Whether the wife, the mother, or the friend,
For she was all in that supreme degree,
That, as no one prevailed, o all was she,
The several parts lay hidden in the piece;
The occasion but exerted that, or this."
Although early impressed with a strong religious belief, she did not unite with the church until in 1862, when she became a member of the Baptist church remaining a devoted Christian until death.
In referring to the departure from this life, of a woman so noble and pure, the term death hardly seem appropriate:
There is no death! What seems so is transition,
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suberb of the life elysian,
Whose portals we call Death.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's polution,
She lives whom we call dead.
It is our painful duty, this week, to record the rather sudden death of Mrs. Sophia Biddle, wife of the present efficient Sheriff of the county, who died of lung fever after an illness of a few days, at the Sheriff's residence on corner of Washington and Jackson streets, on Friday afternoon last week. She was buried Sunday, in the Baptist cemetery near Columbus, being followed to her last resting place by a large concourse of friends.
Mrs. Biddle was born in Pasquotank county, North Carolina, March 24, 1830, and moved with her father's family to this county and settled on Fall Creek, July 16, 1832. She was married to Randle Biddle Oct. 10, 1850, with whom she has lived happily, devoting her time and energies to promote the comfort and happiness of her husband and children.
Such was her manner of life, her gentleness and love, and patient forbearance that she was more than loved - she was idolized by her children and husband, who are left sorrow stricken and disconsolate indeed by her death.
The old saying "that death leaves a shining mark," has proven only too true in her case as she was the "sunshine" of the Biddle household - the charmed center of attraction of a large group of personal friends who knew and appreciated her worth.
"No single virtue we could most commend,
Whether the wife, the mother, or the friend,
For she was all in that supreme degree,
That, as no one prevailed, o all was she,
The several parts lay hidden in the piece;
The occasion but exerted that, or this."
Although early impressed with a strong religious belief, she did not unite with the church until in 1862, when she became a member of the Baptist church remaining a devoted Christian until death.
In referring to the departure from this life, of a woman so noble and pure, the term death hardly seem appropriate:
There is no death! What seems so is transition,
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suberb of the life elysian,
Whose portals we call Death.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's polution,
She lives whom we call dead.
From the Anderson Democrat newspaper, January 6, 1882:
It is our painful duty, this week, to record the rather sudden death of Mrs. Sophia Biddle, wife of the present efficient Sheriff of the county, who died of lung fever after an illness of a few days, at the Sheriff's residence on corner of Washington and Jackson streets, on Friday afternoon last week. She was buried Sunday, in the Baptist cemetery near Columbus, being followed to her last resting place by a large concourse of friends.
Mrs. Biddle was born in Pasquotank county, North Carolina, March 24, 1830, and moved with her father's family to this county and settled on Fall Creek, July 16, 1832. She was married to Randle Biddle Oct. 10, 1850, with whom she has lived happily, devoting her time and energies to promote the comfort and happiness of her husband and children.
Such was her manner of life, her gentleness and love, and patient forbearance that she was more than loved - she was idolized by her children and husband, who are left sorrow stricken and disconsolate indeed by her death.
The old saying "that death leaves a shining mark," has proven only too true in her case as she was the "sunshine" of the Biddle household - the charmed center of attraction of a large group of personal friends who knew and appreciated her worth.
"No single virtue we could most commend,
Whether the wife, the mother, or the friend,
For she was all in that supreme degree,
That, as no one prevailed, o all was she,
The several parts lay hidden in the piece;
The occasion but exerted that, or this."
Although early impressed with a strong religious belief, she did not unite with the church until in 1862, when she became a member of the Baptist church remaining a devoted Christian until death.
In referring to the departure from this life, of a woman so noble and pure, the term death hardly seem appropriate:
There is no death! What seems so is transition,
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suberb of the life elysian,
Whose portals we call Death.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's polution,
She lives whom we call dead.
It is our painful duty, this week, to record the rather sudden death of Mrs. Sophia Biddle, wife of the present efficient Sheriff of the county, who died of lung fever after an illness of a few days, at the Sheriff's residence on corner of Washington and Jackson streets, on Friday afternoon last week. She was buried Sunday, in the Baptist cemetery near Columbus, being followed to her last resting place by a large concourse of friends.
Mrs. Biddle was born in Pasquotank county, North Carolina, March 24, 1830, and moved with her father's family to this county and settled on Fall Creek, July 16, 1832. She was married to Randle Biddle Oct. 10, 1850, with whom she has lived happily, devoting her time and energies to promote the comfort and happiness of her husband and children.
Such was her manner of life, her gentleness and love, and patient forbearance that she was more than loved - she was idolized by her children and husband, who are left sorrow stricken and disconsolate indeed by her death.
The old saying "that death leaves a shining mark," has proven only too true in her case as she was the "sunshine" of the Biddle household - the charmed center of attraction of a large group of personal friends who knew and appreciated her worth.
"No single virtue we could most commend,
Whether the wife, the mother, or the friend,
For she was all in that supreme degree,
That, as no one prevailed, o all was she,
The several parts lay hidden in the piece;
The occasion but exerted that, or this."
Although early impressed with a strong religious belief, she did not unite with the church until in 1862, when she became a member of the Baptist church remaining a devoted Christian until death.
In referring to the departure from this life, of a woman so noble and pure, the term death hardly seem appropriate:
There is no death! What seems so is transition,
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suberb of the life elysian,
Whose portals we call Death.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's polution,
She lives whom we call dead.
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