Obituary - Mount Ayr, Newton County, Indiana, Thursday, March 3, 1910

Mrs. James T. Blankenbaker Dies Sunday
One of the Most Highly Respected of our Aged Ladies Gone. Congestion of the lungs being given as the Cause of Her Death.

After an illness of several months Mrs. James T. Blankenbaker passed away Sunday at about 10 a.m., at her home just west of town. Although her illness was long, it was not considered serious until just recently, and all the care bestowed upon her by loving hands availed nothing. She passed away quietly and peacefully as though simply going to sleep. She was conscious until the last few hours, recognizing her children as they gathered about the bedside of their dying mother.

Impressive funeral services were held at the home Tuesday afternoon, conducted by her favorite Pastor, Elder Thompson, of Greenfield, Ind., after which all that was mortal of this good woman was tenderly conveyed to our Silent City, where she now sleeps in peace.

Mrs. Blankenbaker was an every day Christian. The beautifying influences of a pure religion were spread over a life and character as spotless and charming as was ever possessed by any of the noble women who have lived and died during the ages that are gone. As such a life was a blessing and benefaction to all within the sphere of its influence so is the death of such a one a public misfortune, as well as an irreparable loss to the home circle made desolate by her departure. It is difficult to pay a fitting tribute to the memory of so noble a woman-one whose every day life was embellished by the most charming and lovable attributes of her sex. A perfect lady at all times-under all circumstances, she seemed born to inspire the love and respect of all who were so fortunate as to be acquainted with her. No one was more willing to aid the suffering, cheer the desponding, sustain the weak and to throw over the frailties of our race the mantle of Christian charity, and when sickness and death came to her, as it comes to all, neighbors and friends vied with each other in acts of loving kindness and tender solicitude, and many were the willing hands and hearts ready to assist him upon whom rested the responsibility of attempting to fight back the ravages of disease-to avert the inevitable-and in whom were united the devotion of a friend, the untiring skill and watchful care of the conscientious, painstaking physicians, but love and skill were equally of no avail. The great destroyer had placed his signet on her brow and today, hundreds who loved her living, mourn her dead.

In the presence of such a sorrow, how cold and impotent are words and how doubly deep would be the grief over the graves did not the rainbow of Christian hope span the dark gulf between times and eternity, and such pure, bright lives inspire the belief that there is a better world beyond, where, filled from the corroding cares of earth, the good and true are reunited "after life's fitful fever."

As the death dew gathered on her marble brow, around her bedside gathered her "girls" and "boys"-always girls and boys to her, though now grown to mature years with boys and girls around their own firesides. The life so long interwoven with theirs, with tearful eyes they watched as it, slowly but surely passed over. The love of a mother for her children passeth human understanding. The boys and girls that gathered about the cot of this dying mother and so bravely fought the Death Angel, long ago passed out from the home circle. Business cares and their own home circles have encroached upon their time, may have robbed mother of their companionship, but she was ever just the same; rejoicing in their successes and grieving at the misfortunes. They may have grown away from her, but she never from them; they were still her boys and girls. We know that years hence the memory of her unselfish devotion will make them better men and better women and her precepts be their guiding star.

Vain is any attempt to measure the loss of a mother to her children; after all the poets have sung and lovers dreamed, outside of heaven there is no love like mother-love. We believe the tender care devoted to those nearest and dearest, went with her to the better land, and in the possibilities of eternity, may be needed hereafter. We fancy her awaiting them in the place prepared for her, a little apart from the innumerable company in bright array; perhaps in one of the-----"palaces of ivory
Its windows crystal clear" of which old Bonar quaintly sung. In the light, not of the sun, neither of the moon, we see her beyond the fields of fadeless asphodel, under the waiving palms, beside the still waters bordered with silver lilies. These may be merely figures, but they bear a precious meaning to yearning hearts made for the deep household loves; hearts that will not be comforted because the Angel of the House is missing.

Eliza A. Crisler was born August 11, 1847, and departed this life February 27, 1910, aged 62 years, 6 months and 16 days.

Deceased was married to James T. Blankenbaker August 15, 1869. To this union was born six children, four boys and two girls: Wilbur, Walter, Clarence, Archie, Mrs. Marion Dunn and Mrs. David Hochstettler; all of whom were present and, together with the husband and father are left to mourn her death.

Besides these she leaves to mourn her loss two sisters, three brothers and four grandchildren.

May 21, 1892 she united with the Primitive Baptist church and lived a consistent Christian life until death called her to her reward.