DEATHS
In Woonsocket, October 23rd, Mr. John Foss, aged 57 years, a native of Riddings, England, son of Robert Foss, and eldest brother of the publisheer of this journal.
The poor sufferer is at rest. For many years the subject of this tribute was the victim of inflammatory rheumatism in its most aggrevated form. He suffered as few men suffer. At times there were respites from his pain; but of late years, these were lesss frequent and of shorter duration. A courage that approached the highest heroism sustained him, and he complained comparatively little in view of his hard lot. "Great sorrows have no leisure to complain." For a month past he had said: "There is no help for me. The physician's art cannot alleviate my suffereings. I long to go hence, and be at rest"."
"O suffering, sad humanity!
Patient, though sorely tried."
He was aware that this last illness was to be the closing scene. He spoke of it, calmly and resignedly, to sister or brother who attended him. When asked on one well occasion, if he would not like to still live, he replied --"Yes, if to live is not to suffer."
"A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps."
In Woonsocket, October 23rd, Mr. John Foss, aged 57 years, a native of Riddings, England, son of Robert Foss, and eldest brother of the publisheer of this journal.
The poor sufferer is at rest. For many years the subject of this tribute was the victim of inflammatory rheumatism in its most aggrevated form. He suffered as few men suffer. At times there were respites from his pain; but of late years, these were lesss frequent and of shorter duration. A courage that approached the highest heroism sustained him, and he complained comparatively little in view of his hard lot. "Great sorrows have no leisure to complain." For a month past he had said: "There is no help for me. The physician's art cannot alleviate my suffereings. I long to go hence, and be at rest"."
"O suffering, sad humanity!
Patient, though sorely tried."
He was aware that this last illness was to be the closing scene. He spoke of it, calmly and resignedly, to sister or brother who attended him. When asked on one well occasion, if he would not like to still live, he replied --"Yes, if to live is not to suffer."
"A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps."
DEATHS
In Woonsocket, October 23rd, Mr. John Foss, aged 57 years, a native of Riddings, England, son of Robert Foss, and eldest brother of the publisheer of this journal.
The poor sufferer is at rest. For many years the subject of this tribute was the victim of inflammatory rheumatism in its most aggrevated form. He suffered as few men suffer. At times there were respites from his pain; but of late years, these were lesss frequent and of shorter duration. A courage that approached the highest heroism sustained him, and he complained comparatively little in view of his hard lot. "Great sorrows have no leisure to complain." For a month past he had said: "There is no help for me. The physician's art cannot alleviate my suffereings. I long to go hence, and be at rest"."
"O suffering, sad humanity!
Patient, though sorely tried."
He was aware that this last illness was to be the closing scene. He spoke of it, calmly and resignedly, to sister or brother who attended him. When asked on one well occasion, if he would not like to still live, he replied --"Yes, if to live is not to suffer."
"A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps."
In Woonsocket, October 23rd, Mr. John Foss, aged 57 years, a native of Riddings, England, son of Robert Foss, and eldest brother of the publisheer of this journal.
The poor sufferer is at rest. For many years the subject of this tribute was the victim of inflammatory rheumatism in its most aggrevated form. He suffered as few men suffer. At times there were respites from his pain; but of late years, these were lesss frequent and of shorter duration. A courage that approached the highest heroism sustained him, and he complained comparatively little in view of his hard lot. "Great sorrows have no leisure to complain." For a month past he had said: "There is no help for me. The physician's art cannot alleviate my suffereings. I long to go hence, and be at rest"."
"O suffering, sad humanity!
Patient, though sorely tried."
He was aware that this last illness was to be the closing scene. He spoke of it, calmly and resignedly, to sister or brother who attended him. When asked on one well occasion, if he would not like to still live, he replied --"Yes, if to live is not to suffer."
"A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps."
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