DIED.
In Baltimore, on the 21st of October, ISAAC WRIGHT, youngest son of Elizabeth R. and the late Morehead Wright. He was born on the 11th day of June, 1854, at Rosewood, the homestead of his mother’s family, near this city.
We called him “Tysie,” the name given by the lisping tongue of a baby sister, when his bright spirit was first ushered into life. Each year of his short pilgrimage here but added to the rich rare attributes, which betoken a glorious manhood, in his noble character. And no language can so fully express what he was to those who loved him, as the simple words, none knew him but to love him.
Oh Tysie! ’tis grievous to know we can never welcome your dear face in your far Southern home again. Montilize will be dreary without your manly form, and through the coming years we will ever miss you.
An innate love of the most chaste and sublime music was one of his ruling passions on earth. Now his dear voice has joined the seraphic strains of the Angel choir in which so many loved treasures have already gathered from our fold. Our golden band is broken, the silver cord is loosed, fond mother, loving sister, mourning brother; but our precious boy has gone from this world of sin and suffering, to his mansion in the skies, ere his pure soul was blackened by the evil here. We can live, that we may meet him, and all who have gone before to that blessed shore, and only sing to our sad hearts now.
Hope thou on a little longer,
Doubt not! Joy will come at last.
J.
—The Daily Gazette newspaper (Little Rock, Arkansas), Monday, November 5, 1866, p 2, col 3.
[Obituary provided by Find A Grave contributor Gravestone Recorder.]
In Baltimore, on the 21st of October, ISAAC WRIGHT, youngest son of Elizabeth R. and the late Morehead Wright. He was born on the 11th day of June, 1854, at Rosewood, the homestead of his mother’s family, near this city.
We called him “Tysie,” the name given by the lisping tongue of a baby sister, when his bright spirit was first ushered into life. Each year of his short pilgrimage here but added to the rich rare attributes, which betoken a glorious manhood, in his noble character. And no language can so fully express what he was to those who loved him, as the simple words, none knew him but to love him.
Oh Tysie! ’tis grievous to know we can never welcome your dear face in your far Southern home again. Montilize will be dreary without your manly form, and through the coming years we will ever miss you.
An innate love of the most chaste and sublime music was one of his ruling passions on earth. Now his dear voice has joined the seraphic strains of the Angel choir in which so many loved treasures have already gathered from our fold. Our golden band is broken, the silver cord is loosed, fond mother, loving sister, mourning brother; but our precious boy has gone from this world of sin and suffering, to his mansion in the skies, ere his pure soul was blackened by the evil here. We can live, that we may meet him, and all who have gone before to that blessed shore, and only sing to our sad hearts now.
Hope thou on a little longer,
Doubt not! Joy will come at last.
J.
—The Daily Gazette newspaper (Little Rock, Arkansas), Monday, November 5, 1866, p 2, col 3.
[Obituary provided by Find A Grave contributor Gravestone Recorder.]
DIED.
In Baltimore, on the 21st of October, ISAAC WRIGHT, youngest son of Elizabeth R. and the late Morehead Wright. He was born on the 11th day of June, 1854, at Rosewood, the homestead of his mother’s family, near this city.
We called him “Tysie,” the name given by the lisping tongue of a baby sister, when his bright spirit was first ushered into life. Each year of his short pilgrimage here but added to the rich rare attributes, which betoken a glorious manhood, in his noble character. And no language can so fully express what he was to those who loved him, as the simple words, none knew him but to love him.
Oh Tysie! ’tis grievous to know we can never welcome your dear face in your far Southern home again. Montilize will be dreary without your manly form, and through the coming years we will ever miss you.
An innate love of the most chaste and sublime music was one of his ruling passions on earth. Now his dear voice has joined the seraphic strains of the Angel choir in which so many loved treasures have already gathered from our fold. Our golden band is broken, the silver cord is loosed, fond mother, loving sister, mourning brother; but our precious boy has gone from this world of sin and suffering, to his mansion in the skies, ere his pure soul was blackened by the evil here. We can live, that we may meet him, and all who have gone before to that blessed shore, and only sing to our sad hearts now.
Hope thou on a little longer,
Doubt not! Joy will come at last.
J.
—The Daily Gazette newspaper (Little Rock, Arkansas), Monday, November 5, 1866, p 2, col 3.
[Obituary provided by Find A Grave contributor Gravestone Recorder.]
In Baltimore, on the 21st of October, ISAAC WRIGHT, youngest son of Elizabeth R. and the late Morehead Wright. He was born on the 11th day of June, 1854, at Rosewood, the homestead of his mother’s family, near this city.
We called him “Tysie,” the name given by the lisping tongue of a baby sister, when his bright spirit was first ushered into life. Each year of his short pilgrimage here but added to the rich rare attributes, which betoken a glorious manhood, in his noble character. And no language can so fully express what he was to those who loved him, as the simple words, none knew him but to love him.
Oh Tysie! ’tis grievous to know we can never welcome your dear face in your far Southern home again. Montilize will be dreary without your manly form, and through the coming years we will ever miss you.
An innate love of the most chaste and sublime music was one of his ruling passions on earth. Now his dear voice has joined the seraphic strains of the Angel choir in which so many loved treasures have already gathered from our fold. Our golden band is broken, the silver cord is loosed, fond mother, loving sister, mourning brother; but our precious boy has gone from this world of sin and suffering, to his mansion in the skies, ere his pure soul was blackened by the evil here. We can live, that we may meet him, and all who have gone before to that blessed shore, and only sing to our sad hearts now.
Hope thou on a little longer,
Doubt not! Joy will come at last.
J.
—The Daily Gazette newspaper (Little Rock, Arkansas), Monday, November 5, 1866, p 2, col 3.
[Obituary provided by Find A Grave contributor Gravestone Recorder.]
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