The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1880-01-08
" the Citizen.l
Mrs. John z. Eaton.
BY EsTELLE YEHsK.

soil lies Wondering in the grave
and her dust mingling with mother
earth and her loved ones In the Ma
TONS great capital, Islander sheathes
the penetrating knife and after all
the years of vituperation proclaims
in a tardy manner the possibility of
the victims innocence!
"Alas! fer the rarity
Of Christian charity"
There has scarcely ever appeared,
since the flaming sword flashed
above the gate of Eden, beautiful,
accomplished woman with rare tact,
winning brilliant triumphs in the
social world, who has not been pur
sued by enemies writhing with envy
and hate, envenomed at being
thrown into obscurity by her supe-
rior charms, and fancying them
selves robbed by her of the applause
they deserved and would, but for
her presence. monOpolize.
In every age she has been forced
to tread her path amidst sneers and
ISLANDERS of her interiors in charms
and attachments. Her opponents
in self-indulging fickleness and fri
volity OF fashionable society have,
like sleuth hounds kept wait and
watch for her, and like Iago, stolen
the handkerchief and used it to
damn her to ruin in the worlds es-
TEEN, and she has in some instances
gone to an untimely grave with an
undeserved tarnish upon her fair,
womanly brow Mrs. Eaton pos
sessed a fine and lofty soul. She
was hlgh-spirited with immense
self respect. We knew Mrs. Eaton
in our early school-life and ever re-
membered her graceful, smiling,
winning manner. Size was petite, a
blonde of delicate mould with the
most beautifully shaped brow and
head set upon a swan like neck and
dropping shoulders-and a very
queen in her bearing. In renewing
our acquaintance with her in Wash
ington several years ago, our name
seemed to bear a charm for her,
and almost her first question in
much earnestness to US, was, "Did
you marry relative OF Andrew
Jackson?" Notwithstanding her
seeming disappointment In our neg
alive, she besought US to come to
see her often. She had great
reverence and love for the memory
of Andrew Jackson. We found
her, even at her advanced age,
most charming, cheerful, cultivated
companion; and it was like reading
one of the thrilling novels of Dumas
or Ouida to listen to her life in
Spain, as also her life in the CaLi |
tol. She would grow SO animated |
sometimes in her narratives and an
ecdotes of the past that we would |
forget her age in the sparkle of her
bright blue eyes and the gesticula
ii, MS of her little white hand. Her
conversational powers were Insur-
passed in brilliancy and interest, |
for one at her age. She was sensi |
tive and suffered over newspaper
squibs. . Never shall we forget the |
tears that rolled down her faded |
old cheeks one snowy, stormy even
ing, as she pointed Gus to US some
scurrilous article In a Pennsylvania |
paper. There seems to US such an
guish in old peoples tears. Alas
what a world OF memories the para
graph may have stirred, as she sat
there in her isolation and loneliness |
in her poverty and old age. She |
who had once reigned in her fair
beauty, wealth and loveliness in |
Americas great capitol, the coHnnoi
Seur of all eyes and the envied of
many hearts, now forgotten by all,
save few warm friends, and the
now and then scurrilous paragraph
ist, hungry for foul food. The lit
tie paragraph, not above two inches
in length, stuck at the foot of a col
umn, marked around heavily with
ink and probably sent by some
friend (2l-heaven save the mark
spoke of the vain and pretty Peg.
O'Nei's marriage with the fiddling
Italian boy-her loss OF property
through him, and his running off
with her granddaughter, and the
years she had for penance for her
silly vanIty-winding up with some
sneering inslnuations. Such wounds
never heal; they bleed while the
heart throbs to feed them. When
We laid the paper down her only re-
mark, at was the fatal error of my
life, "-meaning her last marriage.
She did not recover her wonted ami
nation, but soon led off in CONVEX
sation foreign to the disquieting,
< nh
1t was our l,asy visit before leaving
Washington. AS we rose from the
sofa to go she gently detained US by
the hand saying, "stay yet a min
Ute" and soon putting her arm
around our neck. with choking sobs
made this request: "If am gone
when you come again to Washing
ton. go to Oak Hill cemetery and
look upon the grave of your old
friend, and know that she is resting
at last with her Savior and loved
ones" 4
''REsTING AT LAsTP
What volumes in that short sem
tence! 1t vibrates upon our heart
and ear, even from the grave
amidst the dark, tangled shade of
the spreading oaks upon the
heights of Georgetown to the ST.
lence of these hills!
"REsTING AT LAsTr
The whitening breath of distrust,
the tolerant look, the polite sheer
ing and the SANDER of foul tongues,
can no longer pale her proud cheek,
or bedim her eyes in tears. With
her pale hands folded above the
pulseless heart that quivered under
each stab dealt by the hand of the
mercless. She rests, latter life's
fitful fever"
"May the rod she bore so calm,
In Heaven, be q martyrs palm
'The Hills" Dec. 1879.