Clearfield Republican. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1851-1937, 1879-11-19
)LE NO. 26n CLEARFELD Pa WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 49, 1879
A WONDERFUL WOMAN.

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[from the Washington Post, Nov. loth.l
Mrs. Gen. Eaton died last Saturday
at her residence, on Ninth street, after
q brief illness. Though she had been
failing in health for some months, il
was only within few days that alarm.
ing symptoms were developed, and il
became evident that she could not live
long. Friday evening Dr. Townsend
was called, and pronounced her dan
gerously i'll For months past she has
been great sufferer, but until short
time before her death she was not
deemed in immediate danger. She
knew that the end was approaching
and was hot afraid to die. at is q
beautiful world to leave" she said the
day before her death, looking out into
the sunshine; 81 am not afraid to die,
but it is such beautiful world" 1t
had been q beautiful world TO her, and
she clung to its last sights and sounds
with the strong tenacity of an organi.
zation endowed with intense vitality,
which has preserved in her strength
and vivacity unusual at her age. The
complication of disorders from which
she suffered had made it impossible tor
her TO sleep, except in n sitting post
urc, and when at last she lay down on
her bed, it was evident that the final
surrender had begun. At the last all
the vital forces gave way at once. and
there was no prolonged struggle, Up
TO within ten minutes OF her death she
retained full consciousness, neither
sight nor hearing were impaired, and
she would respond TO the question,
ADO you know me ?" with slight i'm.
patience in tho affirmative, as though
wondering why her recognition should
be questioned. The minister. who was
summoned, read and prayed with her,
and she expressed her faith in Christ,
and her willingness TO depart. She
repeated in q clear. firm voice the
hymn 81 would not live Away Dur.
| ING the last night she grow very rest.
less. and said often. "The night is so
long If morning would only come p
She was fully conscious of the nenr an.
proach of death. In answer to a sug.
restion of something that should be
done on the morrow. she answered.
"Not tomorrow | shall be here only
a little while morrow" The morn.
ing she longed to see came. and by
noon all was over At ten minutes
past IL. with her hand clasped in those
other grandchildren. Mrs. Eaton passed
calmly and peacefully away. The
funeral will beattended from the house,
512 Ninth street northwest, TO morrow,
and the remains will be inferred be-
sides those of her husband Gen. Eaton,
at Oak Hill cemetery. On tho family
lot there lie buried also her mother,
her daughter, Mrs. Randolph, an infant
child Of the latter, and the late Col
Fred Aiken. Mrs. Eaton is the last
member of her own immediate family.
She leaves one daughter, living in
Paris, the Duchess de Sampayo. Her
only other child was the daughter, Mar
garet, who married DIR. Randolph, Of
Virginia, and who died years ago.
The only immediate relatives in this
city are her grandchild, John Ran.
dolpb, and Mrs. Beaumont, who have
cared for Mrs. Eaton through the lat.
ter years Of her life, and with whom
she was living at the time of her death.
Margaret O'Neill Eaton was born
on Twentieth street northwest, nearly
opposite what is now the French Min.
isters residence. While she was still
child her father, William O'Neill, q
native of New Jersey, and a descend
ant of that noblest of all Irish families,
the O'Neills of Ulster, opened tavern
or boarding. house on the corner OF
Twentieth and | streets. His hovel
was patronized by gay and reckless
class of guests, members of Congress,
gentlemen OF wealth visiting Washing.
ton, particularly young Southcrncrs,
officers of the army and navy, and the
upper grade of departmental clerks.
Henry Clay, in his faster days, was q
continuous guest, and he was o far
TYNE Of the occupants. In such society
grew up tho child Margaret. Her
marvellous beauty of face and form,
and her lissom grace of manner could
not fail to be noticed by the gay, wild
jewellers who made her fathers house
their home. and they flattored her
without thought and without stint.
Surrounded from childhood with such
unconventional associations it was i'm
possible that she should not herself
become markedly unconventional. A
faircr bud never ripened into more
perfect blossom. She was as brilliant
in intellect as she was graceful in
movement, and as sparkling in conver-
sational charms rs she was beautiful in
person. She was ambitious, and her
childish associations stimulated in the
young maiden the determination to
enter and reign, as one born in the pur.
pie in the magic circle of that society
upon whose threshold only sho had