DIED
At the residence of her father, in Colorado County, October 9th 1862, Summerville[sic] Thatcher, daughter of George W. Thatcher, in the seventeenth year of her age. Her disease originated while at boarding school. She went in blooming health but returned a pale sufferer doomed to early death. She lingered for several years, but a fond mother’s anxious care the devotion of her family and friends and the best medical skill were all unavailing to stay the steady progress of her decline and having passed in great feebleness through heat of summer, she fell like a frail and tender flower at the first rude blast of autumn. All who knew her loved her and mourn her loss, but as she was patient in death, they “mourn not as those who have no hope.” The writer saw her a few days since for the last time in life. She lay calm, cheerful, beautiful, knitting socks for the soldiers. She had knit several pair, but that on which she was then engaged she never finished. She worked thus in weakness and almost to the last for the brave defenders of her home and country’s rights and rest now we trust in Heaven.
W. G. F.
At the residence of her father, in Colorado County, October 9th 1862, Summerville[sic] Thatcher, daughter of George W. Thatcher, in the seventeenth year of her age. Her disease originated while at boarding school. She went in blooming health but returned a pale sufferer doomed to early death. She lingered for several years, but a fond mother’s anxious care the devotion of her family and friends and the best medical skill were all unavailing to stay the steady progress of her decline and having passed in great feebleness through heat of summer, she fell like a frail and tender flower at the first rude blast of autumn. All who knew her loved her and mourn her loss, but as she was patient in death, they “mourn not as those who have no hope.” The writer saw her a few days since for the last time in life. She lay calm, cheerful, beautiful, knitting socks for the soldiers. She had knit several pair, but that on which she was then engaged she never finished. She worked thus in weakness and almost to the last for the brave defenders of her home and country’s rights and rest now we trust in Heaven.
W. G. F.
DIED
At the residence of her father, in Colorado County, October 9th 1862, Summerville[sic] Thatcher, daughter of George W. Thatcher, in the seventeenth year of her age. Her disease originated while at boarding school. She went in blooming health but returned a pale sufferer doomed to early death. She lingered for several years, but a fond mother’s anxious care the devotion of her family and friends and the best medical skill were all unavailing to stay the steady progress of her decline and having passed in great feebleness through heat of summer, she fell like a frail and tender flower at the first rude blast of autumn. All who knew her loved her and mourn her loss, but as she was patient in death, they “mourn not as those who have no hope.” The writer saw her a few days since for the last time in life. She lay calm, cheerful, beautiful, knitting socks for the soldiers. She had knit several pair, but that on which she was then engaged she never finished. She worked thus in weakness and almost to the last for the brave defenders of her home and country’s rights and rest now we trust in Heaven.
W. G. F.
At the residence of her father, in Colorado County, October 9th 1862, Summerville[sic] Thatcher, daughter of George W. Thatcher, in the seventeenth year of her age. Her disease originated while at boarding school. She went in blooming health but returned a pale sufferer doomed to early death. She lingered for several years, but a fond mother’s anxious care the devotion of her family and friends and the best medical skill were all unavailing to stay the steady progress of her decline and having passed in great feebleness through heat of summer, she fell like a frail and tender flower at the first rude blast of autumn. All who knew her loved her and mourn her loss, but as she was patient in death, they “mourn not as those who have no hope.” The writer saw her a few days since for the last time in life. She lay calm, cheerful, beautiful, knitting socks for the soldiers. She had knit several pair, but that on which she was then engaged she never finished. She worked thus in weakness and almost to the last for the brave defenders of her home and country’s rights and rest now we trust in Heaven.
W. G. F.
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