“Leaves have their time to fall,
and flowers to wither at the north wind’s breath,
And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own—O, death!”
Perhaps no death has struck such consternation to the hearts of the people of Milton, as that of Miss Mary Emma Maloy Atkins, youngest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Atkins, which occurred on Thursday [February 9]. The young lady went skating on Saturday previous, and while in a state of perspiration, jumped into a sleigh and went riding. On her return home she was seized with convulsions from which she never rallied, but died in a state of unconsciousness, as above related. Deceased was 19 years, 5 months and 16 days old and one of the fairest flowers that Milton ever produced. This is saying much, but we believe our encomium is merited. Her equal may be found in our town; her superior certainly cannot. Death is terrible at all times, and under all circumstances; but when one is suddenly snatched away in the bloom of fair maidenhood, the terror becomes doubly heartrending. Miss Atkins was a good church worker in the denomination of her choice, well and highly respected, and the especial love of the young people of the community. Possibly no parents ever idolized a child more than Mr. and Mrs. Atkins May—and their love was by no means misplaced; could not have been. What can we say about this dread monster—death! When shall we look for his insidious approach?
“Is it when spring’s first gale
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie;
Is it when roses in our path grow pale?
They have one season—all are ours to die!”
Thou art where billows foam,
Thou art where music melts upon the air.
Thou art around us in our peaceful homes
And the world calls us forth—and then art there.”[i]
Funeral services were held on Monday afternoon; the Revs. H. S. Johnson and Mullineaux, former ministers of the M. P. Church, officiating and amid a large concourse of mourning friends the remains were deposited in the M. E. Cemetery by J. R. Atkins, undertaker. The funeral was held at the home of the parents.
“It was so sudden,” the white lips said
How we shall miss her, the beautiful dead,
Who take the place of the precious one bed?
But God knowest best.
We know he watches the sparrows that fall,
Hears the sad cry of the grieved hearts that call
Friends, husband, children, He loveth all
We can trust for the rest.”[ii]
There is much sickness in Milton.
This communication was intended for last week; but owing to illness in our family and the sickness of the author it was mislaid, and the mistake not discovered until Friday morning, when it was too late to send it. In answer to the letters received from Frederica friends regarding the convalescence of our family, we will say they are much better, but by no means well.
P. J. Hart, of the Hart House, has been sending out by farmers considerable quantities of feed for the birds, which are starving in the woods and fields.
J. B. Welch received on the 14th, a valentine fourteen years old, and will be pleased to show it to many of his friends.
The extremely bad weather keeps almost everyone within doors, and on account of this fact much news cannot be had. On Monday it rained all day; and while this has had the effect of carrying off the snow, it has put the roads and streets into a most lamentable condition.
Edward Sharp and Jacob Coffin are improving from their illnesses.
William S. Lank, of Milton, passed the State Board of Pharmacy of Pennsylvania on Thursday of last week, and is now a registered pharmacist, to own or manage a drug store.
The monthly meeting of the Missionary Society of the M. E. Church was held on Sunday afternoon, the 19th inst., and the Missionary Anniversary of the same Sunday School on the evening of the same day. $112.00 was raised.
Dr. R. T Wilson is convalescing from pneumonia.
J. M. Lank, chief officer of the Trust Company Bank, is a candidate for State […] Council of the Jr. O. U. A. M.
Captain Thomas B. Robinson died at his home at Robinsonville on Tuesday, aged 62 years, 9 months and 3 days. Funeral services were held on Thursday afternoon at Connely’s Chapel, and internment made in that cemetery. Rev. Strickland performed the last sad rites, and S. J. Wilson & Son inhumed the body.
The deplorable fact cannot be denied that there is some suffering in Milton among the poorer classes, and, doubtless, this is the case in other towns and cities. The Milton people are generous, and are giving aid where aid is needed. It has been suggested that a committee be appointed by Town Council to visit those who are sick and supposed to be suffering; and the necessary funds furnished from the town treasury for their alleviation. Then all would bear the portion of the burden. Be it said, to the credit of the physicians, they are giving their services free; and the druggists are furnishing medicine free, also—to them who are unable to take care of themselves.
[i] Verses excerpted from The Hour of Death, by Felicea Dorothea Brown Hemans
[ii] From the poem Rest, by Mary Torrans Lathrap (1839 – 1895)