The Jimplecute. (Jefferson, Tex.) 18??-1907, 1906-08-04
OBITUARY.

w. r. Proctor, and took from it
homes brightest jewel-wife and
mother. Her untimely death was
shock to all her many friends.
Her illness was of short duration
and ere relatives and friends
realized that the end was near the
words that have saddened hearts
and clouded homes in every age
and cline were spoken-"she 10
dead"
Mrs. Nellie Underwood Proctor
was born in Carthage, Tenn. in
July, 1857. Her girlhood was
spent in that grand old state where
natures beauty and grandeur
moulds noble character. The
soul in constant tune with natures
harmony, where fertile valley does
homage and lays her boquet of wild
flowers at the feet of lofty noun.
tain, where murmuring mountain
brooks speak only purest poetry,
and where happy song birds sing
only sweetest melodies, is uncon-
sciously influenced toward the
image of NATURES God.
In the year 1887, at the age of
twenty years, she was married to
w. R. Proctor, in Nashville, Tenn.
and moved to Texas the same year,
where she has lived until her un.
timely death. Amid a. host of
friends who had gathered to pay
her their last sad tribute of honor.
and beneath wilderness of
flowers" plucked by loving hands,
she was laid to rest in New Pros.
pect cemetery, on July 81, 1906.
At the age of thirty-nine years,
in the brilliant noon. tide of life,
she was cut down. She died in
love with life. Having host of
friends, an affectionate husband,
and happy children, when life as.
sumed it's most beautiful dress and
promised greatest happiness, the
summons came which must be
ucouou NY 6dCn anu Sii.
1t seems to us a strange dispen.
sation of Providence that after the
battles of life have been fought and
won, and we are just entering the
period of earth's highest enjoy
ment, that we should be sum.
moned to embark upon the dark,
mysterious and unfathomable sea
of death. We look upon a mys.
terry that we cannot fathom when
we look upon life's ship as she
steers through the stormiest period
in her voyage and looks to safe
anchorage in the haven in the mel.
low twilight, and see her at the
height of noon-tide as she enters
the calm. strike the hidden reef,
and the white capped pillows roar
above her forever We may I'm.
derstand how man, leaning heavily
upon his staff IN the evening of
life, may welcome the sunset. and
using his burden for a pillow"
enters the dreamless sleep that
knows no waking; but the call to
prattling babe, to buoyant youth,
and TO strong man and woman,
when life presents her fairest
features, to cross over into the un-
known, is clothed in mystery.
And yet it is true that death is
confined to no age, class or cline.
We see the ripened fruit gathered,
and also the withered bud ere it
upfolds its blossom Upon the
soil made fertile by the decay of
old and young, pauper and prince,
the nodding roses bloom without
discrimination.
Because of the mystery that
clouds our minds let us not allow
the finite to take to task the in
finite Let us believe, rather, 10
spite of doubts that God, under
whose wing .nestes the shining
universe, doeth all things we'll.
She leaves to mourn her loss an
affectionate husband and six chill.
dren, These would we console,
yet we know how inadequate are
words to heal the wounds of
heart lacerated by grief We can
not fill the void in the heart nor
the vacant chair, Her wifely and
motherly affection and deeds of
kindness and sacrifice will ever be
tender vine, interviewer in sweet
memories, whose tendrils will ever
entwine our hearts. Let US find
consolation in the belief that God,
whose spring zephyrs kiss into life
the beautiful violets after winters
blast, will awaken from sleep this
noble wife and mother after tba