Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1878-11-24
IN MEMORIAM.

I'VE know that all Will be well with thee in the
future"-the blissful future of which dream, bu
know not Of They have crossed the river to rest il
the shade of the trees. On August 18th, at 6:lE
am, Miss LOUISA LATsCH aged 81 years; at IN
August 18th, Miss AMELIA LATsCH, aged 10; al
1920 pm, Mrs. BERTHA KLOsTERMAYER, ("ee
Latsch) aged II; at am, Au2ust 27th, JONI
LATCH, ST., aged 45 In Cincinnati, at 10 am.
September 9Th. c. FRANK KLosTERNIAYER, aged 4
years L months and % days; in Louisville, at &c
am, September 18th, JOHN LATsCH, jr., aged 81
God, in His all wise Judgment has seen fit to
family Oh, why is it that pity, sorrow and regret
are born in the human heat? Why is 1t such ter
Why Is IL we cannot part with our loved with
out pain, knowing they enter the dim hereafter with
love them! Aye love them. To be with them-to
embrace them once again-oh, 'twould be worth
Sorrow and suffering, with their train of gloomy
SpectreS fee from us when the angel OF God bids us
hope! Hope that we may meet them again in the
land where all is sunshine and lowersi where love
reigns supreme where sadness, sorrow and repinlng
the certainty of future-a happy future? Kloster-
mayer old friend, the burden of your sorrow has
been terrible vo All yP t Loved T ne one dear
gone. The dearly beloved wife, Bertha, in whom
your love and regard was centared then the pride of
your ife and joy of the household little Frank Oh,
Infinite Being why could not he be left to solace the
unhappy father with his innocent prattle for the
10 OF the other loved ones? Only one left-a
bright, beautiful little boy, and each night as he
leans on his fathers knee and repeats the simple
prayer his mother used to teach him, will he cali to
mind the loved and lost, and breathe through the
gathering tears, Father, thy will be done" Oh,
the terrible scourge of 1878 may be written
strangers will the facts, and shudder with hor-
lost their loved to feel the biting sting o. sor-
row. The destroying angel has stricken the infant,
the youth and the aged and carried away the light
of our friends life May the Great Am temper
the wind to the shSrn Lamb and guide him in the
with the dear ones gone before.
TURNER On Thursday, October 25, 1878, at
son of T. B. and Myra Turner, aged seven years and
nine months.
There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen
He reapS the bearded grass at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between"
In the silent watches of the twilight at the saddest
family of Thomas Turner, and while the devoted
mother bent in gush over the form of her idol boy
BILE plague, all unconscious of his impending loss,
the gentle spirit of little ToNNrrE TURNER, winged
bird of beautiful plumage, to delight the beholder
Softly and sveetIy from a passing cloud,
Death fell upon him.
1t is the beauty of these little flowers nesting so
Reaper He cuts them down in all their loneliness,
to transplant them where no noxious vapOrs will mar
their delicate FORMS Kind friends had to keep the
secrt of the little nobemans death from his devoted
father but after two weeks Of fearful concealment
all was told, and his grief knew no bOunds-he had
lost his nameSake-he had lost his favorite son, in
whom his tendereSt thoughts and highest hopes
tered. remarkable boy has died. His sweetness
of disposition his genteneSs which charmed us all,
the glorious promise of his young life, has left
too soon His death will be mourned By all who
knew him. and If grieyes strange hearts to
so young aud promising fade from earth how bound
less and unspeakable must be the anguish of the
father and mother who first guided his lettering
steps with the hands OF love and lived in the sun
shine OF his brightest smiles Their friends JON In
their grief and drop tears their bright sweet
noble son. p.
Apron August %, 1875 Miss LILLE APP, In the
year of her age.
Lille.
Lille was our household treasured
Pride ana sunlight Of our home,
Giving joy beyond measure
Meath our little cottage dome.
Lille was our precious flower
How we loved her none can tell.
Joy and sunlight of each hour
Gone above where angels dwell.
Gone across the shadowy river,
Never to return again;
Gone to find the bright forever,
Leaving us In tears and pain.
OH how much our hearts will miss her,
Day by day for her we'll sigh
Bat we know the angels kiss her
Sweet somewhere beyond the sky. R.