Olivia Warren was the daughter of Jemima Clark Whitney and Samuel Warren. She married Lorenzo Dow Williams in Chagrin Falls, Ohio in 1837. They had four children: Louisa, Octavius, Albert and Mary Adelle.
∼The girlhood home of Olive T. (Warren) Williams, her privations, desire for and lack of schooling etc. were very similar to that of her husband, as is well illustrated by the manner in which she found opportunity for study. As soon as she was large enough to turn the large wheel for spinning woolen yarn, she had much of this to do and while so engaged had her spelling book or her multiplication table so placed at the head of her wheel that as she stepped forward to wind up her yarn she could catch a word or sentence to be committed to memory as she backed away and spun out more yarn. They both attended Sabbath school and a hundred verses of New Testament committed to memory during the week was a very command task for either of them. When quite young, she taught in select school. She was of quiet and amiable disposition, so plain and unassuming that she might easily be mistaken for a Quakeress. Although much of their married life was a life of privation, the clouds always had a silvery lining for her.
His last years were years of intense suffering, and when the end came and friends were assembled for his funeral, she, leaning on the arm of her son, Albert M., came down stairs to take a parting look at the face of her beloved. She stood beside the coffin for a moment, then stooped to kiss his brow, and in an instant, grief had done its fatal work. Bravely had she stood by him through years of struggle and privation, entering with a will into all his plans, seeing only the sunny side, or if she saw another side, covering it with her own sweet words of comfort. But this was the last straw. Literally heartbroken, she sank to the floor, as her sweet spirit took its flight to join his in the spirit land. The next day we laid them side-by-side in Greendale Cemetery.
∼The girlhood home of Olive T. (Warren) Williams, her privations, desire for and lack of schooling etc. were very similar to that of her husband, as is well illustrated by the manner in which she found opportunity for study. As soon as she was large enough to turn the large wheel for spinning woolen yarn, she had much of this to do and while so engaged had her spelling book or her multiplication table so placed at the head of her wheel that as she stepped forward to wind up her yarn she could catch a word or sentence to be committed to memory as she backed away and spun out more yarn. They both attended Sabbath school and a hundred verses of New Testament committed to memory during the week was a very command task for either of them. When quite young, she taught in select school. She was of quiet and amiable disposition, so plain and unassuming that she might easily be mistaken for a Quakeress. Although much of their married life was a life of privation, the clouds always had a silvery lining for her.
His last years were years of intense suffering, and when the end came and friends were assembled for his funeral, she, leaning on the arm of her son, Albert M., came down stairs to take a parting look at the face of her beloved. She stood beside the coffin for a moment, then stooped to kiss his brow, and in an instant, grief had done its fatal work. Bravely had she stood by him through years of struggle and privation, entering with a will into all his plans, seeing only the sunny side, or if she saw another side, covering it with her own sweet words of comfort. But this was the last straw. Literally heartbroken, she sank to the floor, as her sweet spirit took its flight to join his in the spirit land. The next day we laid them side-by-side in Greendale Cemetery.
Olivia Warren was the daughter of Jemima Clark Whitney and Samuel Warren. She married Lorenzo Dow Williams in Chagrin Falls, Ohio in 1837. They had four children: Louisa, Octavius, Albert and Mary Adelle.
∼The girlhood home of Olive T. (Warren) Williams, her privations, desire for and lack of schooling etc. were very similar to that of her husband, as is well illustrated by the manner in which she found opportunity for study. As soon as she was large enough to turn the large wheel for spinning woolen yarn, she had much of this to do and while so engaged had her spelling book or her multiplication table so placed at the head of her wheel that as she stepped forward to wind up her yarn she could catch a word or sentence to be committed to memory as she backed away and spun out more yarn. They both attended Sabbath school and a hundred verses of New Testament committed to memory during the week was a very command task for either of them. When quite young, she taught in select school. She was of quiet and amiable disposition, so plain and unassuming that she might easily be mistaken for a Quakeress. Although much of their married life was a life of privation, the clouds always had a silvery lining for her.
His last years were years of intense suffering, and when the end came and friends were assembled for his funeral, she, leaning on the arm of her son, Albert M., came down stairs to take a parting look at the face of her beloved. She stood beside the coffin for a moment, then stooped to kiss his brow, and in an instant, grief had done its fatal work. Bravely had she stood by him through years of struggle and privation, entering with a will into all his plans, seeing only the sunny side, or if she saw another side, covering it with her own sweet words of comfort. But this was the last straw. Literally heartbroken, she sank to the floor, as her sweet spirit took its flight to join his in the spirit land. The next day we laid them side-by-side in Greendale Cemetery.
∼The girlhood home of Olive T. (Warren) Williams, her privations, desire for and lack of schooling etc. were very similar to that of her husband, as is well illustrated by the manner in which she found opportunity for study. As soon as she was large enough to turn the large wheel for spinning woolen yarn, she had much of this to do and while so engaged had her spelling book or her multiplication table so placed at the head of her wheel that as she stepped forward to wind up her yarn she could catch a word or sentence to be committed to memory as she backed away and spun out more yarn. They both attended Sabbath school and a hundred verses of New Testament committed to memory during the week was a very command task for either of them. When quite young, she taught in select school. She was of quiet and amiable disposition, so plain and unassuming that she might easily be mistaken for a Quakeress. Although much of their married life was a life of privation, the clouds always had a silvery lining for her.
His last years were years of intense suffering, and when the end came and friends were assembled for his funeral, she, leaning on the arm of her son, Albert M., came down stairs to take a parting look at the face of her beloved. She stood beside the coffin for a moment, then stooped to kiss his brow, and in an instant, grief had done its fatal work. Bravely had she stood by him through years of struggle and privation, entering with a will into all his plans, seeing only the sunny side, or if she saw another side, covering it with her own sweet words of comfort. But this was the last straw. Literally heartbroken, she sank to the floor, as her sweet spirit took its flight to join his in the spirit land. The next day we laid them side-by-side in Greendale Cemetery.
Family Members
Advertisement
Records on Ancestry
Advertisement
