The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1908-10-08
In Sacred Memory.

z d uOfudS, SsN Oiliy SHiN Va
and Mrs S " Yorng, was born IN
this county January 4, 1891, and
after an illness OF only few days
of blood poison, her young life was
waited into eternity on the morning
of July %, 1908.
As the day came in her life went
out like burning taper or a
lighted lamp in gust OF wlnd--a
slight flicker and the light was gone,
leaving her husband, little babe,
father and mother to mourn their
loss.
She had beea married little more
than a year; in fact, her whole life
measured only about seventeen and
q half years. But dnring this short
term she was the light of mama and
papa's home-all their hopes were
centered in her; all their ambitions
pointed towards her aud all their love
went to her, like Dianna's kiss, Gun
asked, unsought" She was also the
queen of her husbands little home
and ir dying cast a gloom over both,
virtually breaking the hearts in
the two homes.
Her faults the writer never
knew. These are two reosons why.
First, maybe because they we're 50
few; second, because love is blind.
AS to her virtues, / shall not extol
them on account of the ties of blood,
but the many loving hands and
hearts that lent tender aid IN her
illness speak for themselves. She
has written her own epitaph on the
hearts of the people with whom she
was associated, especially in the
affections of the poor and illiterate.
Many a tear moistened the sun
Drowned cheeks of the laborers as the
doctors would shake their heads
from time to time when questioned
as to her condition.
After the days of weary, anxious
watching the fever, like a consuming
fire, burned her precious Ito uS) lite
up. After she had been laid tender
ly in the casket, then placed in the
silent grave, and the ever sad cere-
mony of "from dust thou art to dust
returneth" was completed, let US
follow the mourners back to their
homes.
In our minds eye let US follow
the parents, especially the mother,
whose devotion the writer has never
seen equaled. As she goes back
home to take up the thread of her
life again, when she nears the yard
the shrubbery, the flowers, the vines
that climb their trellis and hund.
red other things silently tell her
that they were planted by the hand
that is forever stilled.
On entering the house she sees
many, many things that remind
her of her darling child; possibly
there still remain some of her toys
or dolls that carry the mother back
in fancy to the sweet days of child.
hood; for i1 seems only yesterday
since little Vera sat on my knee,
PLAYED in the orchard-and made play
houses and frog houses in the lane.
But, alas! the revereie is abruptly
broken and she remembers the owner
of the toys and the joy of Eer life
has passed out of it forever! 1t
pierces her very soul; it eats her
heart like a canker; there is an
'aching void' by day and BY night;
there is just something we can't
explain that "bids MS moura.'
It is too true that the sadness of
the singer makes the sweetness of
the strain. As her mind covers the
situation fitting here and there vain
ly trying to light on some sweet hope,
be it ever 80 forlorn, that will bring
her child back, she realizes her ut
ter inability ard just here she takes