Coon Rapids Enterprise June 12th 1891
There is much joy in life. So many rays of sunshine, so many gifts but tend to make us cheerful and cause our hearts to bound in gladness, that we are to think of life as a merry song. And so we enjoy it. But bye and bye, sometime along in these cheerful, fleeting years, sadness comes and a grief catches at our hearts with a cruelty that seems to almost break them. Life is then transformed. We see nothing but lowering clouds and no earthly handle voice can give us comfort except it be the kindly ministrations so thoughtfully tendered by loving friends. Many of us have yet to pass through this dark Valley, but let us hope to be spared a similar sad affliction that came upon two of our home Sunday morning. Little Mignon Asher then fell asleep. The cheery faced bright-eyed little girl that was often seen merrily tripping along our streets, chatting with her companions, or bringing smiles to older faces by her cheerful, sparkling eyes and lift some nature, felt the breath of death. Her warm heart had been chilled and no response came from her once ready lips as her loving parents tried again and again to call her back. It was a sad moment for Mr and Mrs. W.H. Asher, their little daughter dying in her sixth year at an age in which a child is dear to its parents than their own lives. There were other hearts touched by like grief. A little babe had also just been called away and the fond parents left too long for its cooing voice, the embrace of loving little arms, or the patting of the face by dimpled hands. Its warm breath, so often felt as it is nestled in its parents arms, had gone forever, and its cold form was all that remained of Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Clark's baby boy. Such sorrows as these makes the whole community again for who can fail to be touched by the grief of neighbors and friends and make their sorrows a part of our own. About noon Sunday the caskets containing the little forms were conveyed to the cemetery attended only enough to perform the last side rights as a precaution against the spread of diphtheria and there, under these peculiarly sad circumstances were lowered into the grave after a feeling prayer by Reverend Fawcett.
There is much joy in life. So many rays of sunshine, so many gifts but tend to make us cheerful and cause our hearts to bound in gladness, that we are to think of life as a merry song. And so we enjoy it. But bye and bye, sometime along in these cheerful, fleeting years, sadness comes and a grief catches at our hearts with a cruelty that seems to almost break them. Life is then transformed. We see nothing but lowering clouds and no earthly handle voice can give us comfort except it be the kindly ministrations so thoughtfully tendered by loving friends. Many of us have yet to pass through this dark Valley, but let us hope to be spared a similar sad affliction that came upon two of our home Sunday morning. Little Mignon Asher then fell asleep. The cheery faced bright-eyed little girl that was often seen merrily tripping along our streets, chatting with her companions, or bringing smiles to older faces by her cheerful, sparkling eyes and lift some nature, felt the breath of death. Her warm heart had been chilled and no response came from her once ready lips as her loving parents tried again and again to call her back. It was a sad moment for Mr and Mrs. W.H. Asher, their little daughter dying in her sixth year at an age in which a child is dear to its parents than their own lives. There were other hearts touched by like grief. A little babe had also just been called away and the fond parents left too long for its cooing voice, the embrace of loving little arms, or the patting of the face by dimpled hands. Its warm breath, so often felt as it is nestled in its parents arms, had gone forever, and its cold form was all that remained of Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Clark's baby boy. Such sorrows as these makes the whole community again for who can fail to be touched by the grief of neighbors and friends and make their sorrows a part of our own. About noon Sunday the caskets containing the little forms were conveyed to the cemetery attended only enough to perform the last side rights as a precaution against the spread of diphtheria and there, under these peculiarly sad circumstances were lowered into the grave after a feeling prayer by Reverend Fawcett.
Coon Rapids Enterprise June 12th 1891
There is much joy in life. So many rays of sunshine, so many gifts but tend to make us cheerful and cause our hearts to bound in gladness, that we are to think of life as a merry song. And so we enjoy it. But bye and bye, sometime along in these cheerful, fleeting years, sadness comes and a grief catches at our hearts with a cruelty that seems to almost break them. Life is then transformed. We see nothing but lowering clouds and no earthly handle voice can give us comfort except it be the kindly ministrations so thoughtfully tendered by loving friends. Many of us have yet to pass through this dark Valley, but let us hope to be spared a similar sad affliction that came upon two of our home Sunday morning. Little Mignon Asher then fell asleep. The cheery faced bright-eyed little girl that was often seen merrily tripping along our streets, chatting with her companions, or bringing smiles to older faces by her cheerful, sparkling eyes and lift some nature, felt the breath of death. Her warm heart had been chilled and no response came from her once ready lips as her loving parents tried again and again to call her back. It was a sad moment for Mr and Mrs. W.H. Asher, their little daughter dying in her sixth year at an age in which a child is dear to its parents than their own lives. There were other hearts touched by like grief. A little babe had also just been called away and the fond parents left too long for its cooing voice, the embrace of loving little arms, or the patting of the face by dimpled hands. Its warm breath, so often felt as it is nestled in its parents arms, had gone forever, and its cold form was all that remained of Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Clark's baby boy. Such sorrows as these makes the whole community again for who can fail to be touched by the grief of neighbors and friends and make their sorrows a part of our own. About noon Sunday the caskets containing the little forms were conveyed to the cemetery attended only enough to perform the last side rights as a precaution against the spread of diphtheria and there, under these peculiarly sad circumstances were lowered into the grave after a feeling prayer by Reverend Fawcett.
There is much joy in life. So many rays of sunshine, so many gifts but tend to make us cheerful and cause our hearts to bound in gladness, that we are to think of life as a merry song. And so we enjoy it. But bye and bye, sometime along in these cheerful, fleeting years, sadness comes and a grief catches at our hearts with a cruelty that seems to almost break them. Life is then transformed. We see nothing but lowering clouds and no earthly handle voice can give us comfort except it be the kindly ministrations so thoughtfully tendered by loving friends. Many of us have yet to pass through this dark Valley, but let us hope to be spared a similar sad affliction that came upon two of our home Sunday morning. Little Mignon Asher then fell asleep. The cheery faced bright-eyed little girl that was often seen merrily tripping along our streets, chatting with her companions, or bringing smiles to older faces by her cheerful, sparkling eyes and lift some nature, felt the breath of death. Her warm heart had been chilled and no response came from her once ready lips as her loving parents tried again and again to call her back. It was a sad moment for Mr and Mrs. W.H. Asher, their little daughter dying in her sixth year at an age in which a child is dear to its parents than their own lives. There were other hearts touched by like grief. A little babe had also just been called away and the fond parents left too long for its cooing voice, the embrace of loving little arms, or the patting of the face by dimpled hands. Its warm breath, so often felt as it is nestled in its parents arms, had gone forever, and its cold form was all that remained of Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Clark's baby boy. Such sorrows as these makes the whole community again for who can fail to be touched by the grief of neighbors and friends and make their sorrows a part of our own. About noon Sunday the caskets containing the little forms were conveyed to the cemetery attended only enough to perform the last side rights as a precaution against the spread of diphtheria and there, under these peculiarly sad circumstances were lowered into the grave after a feeling prayer by Reverend Fawcett.
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