News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1888-07-12
In Menoriam.
STUART MEAD BAKER

On the 4th of July, in the very midst
of nations jollity, a noble young life in
our village went suddenly out and left
behind crushed and broken family cir.
Gle, and horror-stricken, sympathizing
town. Strong men walked the streets
and cried like children. while small bows
forgot the usual sports and noise of the
day and gathered in groups. only to
| speak under their breath of Stuart and
his dreadful accident. Not vet 10 wears
old, life all opening up before him full of
| rose colored promise, strong and active
he yet faced the terrible ordeal of ampu-
tation like a hero, though, his father
| being absent. there was no one of his
| kith or kin to stand beside him, When
at the station. his loving sister and foster
mother would have crowded around him
| and oveTfiowed with tenderest sympathv
he generously sent them away, unwillino
that they should witness his terrible su.
fering. With surprising fortitude he en-
dIred the torture which blanched his
cheeks and lips to marble. and after the
surgeons knife had done its dread work
and he had been laid on the bed from
which he was never to rise, his ouIat
cheerfulnesS in extreme pain was won
der to those who anXiOusly watched nv
him. Eight years ago his dying mother
put on his finger ring and heard him
eagerly promise that nothing prOfane or
vile, in speech or substance, includino
tobacco, should ever pass his lips. He
wore and still wears the ring. The prom
Use was hid in his heart; he wound II
about his finger; it was written upon his
forehead. Was this easy? Was he \ re-
cluse? He was passiOnately fond of
sports, of good times. leader among
the boys and faYorite with the girls Of
his set-a large one. Adverse influences
existed, sufficient, in the judgment of
many, to bury the early promise TO his
mother under the debris of shattered res
olutions. How did he succeed? Who
helped him? Who stood by him?
Let us see. He was a constant, atten- |
tive church goer, often at prayer meet |
ing. always at Sunday school and a nat !
tern scholar. Quietly, so quietly. he !
tried to bring his intimate friends with
him. Lying on the station floor the
walls of the room disappeared and he
saw the shores of the river of death. |
Looking into the fearful face of his loved |
employer, SherWin, he said, "Enos. | |
am not afraid, [ am not afraid to die" |
Was this sublime strength of his own |
creation? Was he alone?
With his first consciousness after the
second amputatiOn he asked the doctor
what had been done. When told his feet
were both gone he said cheerfully, "Tbat
is not very bad" Did this matcbIess
spring from soil unwatered
by the dews of grace divine? Was he
alone, or did there stand beside him in
his everlasting arms, the man of men,
the Galilean?
When, in few hours after the acct
dent, it became evident that he could not
rally from the shock and that life was
rapidly ebbing away from the poor
manned body, a saddened hush fell upon
the street-a solemn awe-which none
who witnessed will ever forget. The elab-
Drate display of flowers at the funeral
was fitting tribute to his memory, and
an exponent of the loving esteem in
which he was held by those who knew
him best. To US all, and especially to
he circle of young men, his mates, this
sudden death comes as warming. We
NOW not who will be called next, nor
low sudden the summons may be.
"Ohl had it been yours to mark
Whose lamp of life was dim,
Out from yOn rank of fresh-lpped men
Would ye have singled himt" Il