Newspapers/Obit: Mary E. Dansby Dunston, Claiborne Parish LA Submitted for the LAGenWeb Archives by: Lora Peppers loradpeppers @ hotmail.com Date: Jul. 2000 ********************************************** Copyright. All rights reserved. http://usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://usgwarchives.net/la/lafiles.htm ********************************************** Submitter's Note: I have no relationship to this person. I am indexing obituaries from early Ouachita Parish, Louisiana papers and thought this may help someone here. Hope this helps! --------------------------------------------------------------- The Weekly Telegraph Thursday, October 26, 1865 Page 2, Column 5 OBITUARY. "Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field." "Glide softly to thy rest, then: death should come Gently to one of gentle mould like thee- As light winds wandering through groves of bloom, Detach the delicate blossom from the tree: Close thy sweet eyes calmly and without pain, And we will trust in God to see thee yet again." DIED-At the residence of her father, Col. J.D. Dansby, near Homer, La., on the 24th of Sept., 1865, Mrs. MARY E. DUNSTON. She was born in Troup county, Georgia, Sept. 25th 1842. Professed religion and joined the church during the camp-meeting held at Pisgah church, Claborne parish, La., in Sept., 1861; and was married to Walker Dunston, on the 13th of July, 1862. She died perfectly happy, saying she was going to Heaven, where she would meet her mother, and hoped also to meet her brother William, who was wounded at Petersburg, and died shortly afterwards. Her greatest desire was to get well, that she might raise her infant son, William Dansby, and two motherless sisters, for whom she had been acting the part of mother, since the death of her mother, which occurred Feb. 11th, 1862. Never a better mother lived than was Mrs. Dunston to her little sisters. She lived a Christian life; spoke no ill of any one; and a more affectionate and devoted wife never lived. She now rests in the Homer Grave-Yard, with her two infant sons- Joshua Henry and William Dansby- on either side. The first of these little babes was born on the 24th of April, 1864, and died same day; and the later was born the 15th Sept., 1865, and died Oct. 1st, 1865. Thus ends the brief, sad record of a sainted young wife and mother, and her sweet and blessed offspring. As the perfect woman is the most lovely object in nature, so is her loss to man the most deplorable. The woman who is both a devoted wife and good mother is a treasure which once lost can never be regained or replaced on earth, and forms the best gift that God or nature can bestow on man. To have such a blessing snatched from us at the first fruition-at the first perfecting of that ripe loveliness which promises so much of pleasure and happiness to the future-seems a fate so sad, so deplorable, that we look in vain to the reason and philosophy of man for a paliation. Why should one so lovely, so pure, so kind, so affectionate, and so desirable in every sense that is commendable to the refined taste and cultivated appreciation and sensiblities of the human heart and the human soul, as was Mrs. Dunston, bloom on and gladden and cheer the pathway of life for only a brief moment, to the mere verge or commencement of earthly glory and happiness-for she was but in her first bloom of her perfect and well-matured womanhood-and then suddenly pass from the embrace of those who so devotedly worship her and go down to the "damp, cold vault of death," to return to dust, and nevermore gladden the hearts of kindred and friends with her kindly and welcome presence on earth? It is a hard question-who can answer it? It may indeed be in accordance with the fixed laws of nature, and may accord with the perfect and just will of God; but does it not seem a sad, sad, fate, indeed? It certainly does. There can be but one answer and but one conselation: Those who die shall live again. The scenes of earth, however pleasant and lovely, are but fleeting and momentary, while the beauties of Heaven are eternal and ever expanding. What we lose here by death shall be regained in eternity with a renewed glory which knows no limits. But how the heart of every one who has the first impulse or faintest touch of human kindness or human sympathy must bleed and agonize with the poor heart- broken husband who weeps over the untimely tomb of the young and loving wife! The world may pass on and think but little of such things, and that little may be all coldness and indifference; but the cultivated and thoughtful mind and the cultivated and sympathetic heart will leave a different record. I have seen and heard the devoted husband of this lovely departed wife dwell upon the deep, sad story of her last moments-sad, yet most inspiring and glorious-in an agony of soul which told but too true of his tender and undying affection for her memory, and furnished a monument to her many virtues and devotions more enviable and more to be desired than any "storied urn or animated bust" which the ingenuity and cold colculations (sic) of the world could leave or invent. His MARY was to him and his heart more than any can realize who has not like him lost such a treasure. But his blessed MARY is now in Heaven; and when he asks, as did the poet Burns- "My MARY, dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest?" -it may be taken as only a form of sympathetic speech, to express a devoted thought; for he will still know perfectly well that her "place of blissful rest" is in Heaven-and her society there the God of Purity and His ministering angels. Nor shall the last resting place of the earthly remains of one so pure, so beautiful, and so good, be unvisited and unhallowed in a spiritual sense, or left to be noted alone by the physical and decaying marks of time. The unseen essence of thought and very loveliness of affection descending from God's own pure Throne in Heaven, shall dwelt upon and bless and sanctify every sprig and flower which bourgeons and blooms about the tomb of this blessed departed mother and her two little sweet boys. To lovely MARY's grass tomb Soft maids and village hands shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove, But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No withered witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew; The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew. The redbreast oft at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds, and beating rain, In tempests shake thy sylvan cell, Or midst the chase on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell. Each lonely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed; Beloved till life can charm no more. And mourned till pity's self be dead. Then on the resurrection morn shall the dear sweet wife and young mother, with her blessed little infants, arise in the full bloom of perfected glory and immortal happiness, and come forth to be seen and known by those who now weep over their ashes-never again to taste death or to be separated--"and sorrow and mouning shall flee away." A FRIEND. # # #