Johnston County, NC - Obituaries - Squire Bill Rose File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by Guy Potts The Smithfield Herald December 21, 1915 In Memoriam. "Bill Rose is dead !" "Who ? Squire Bill Rose ?" "Yes, he died Saturday with something like apoplexy, living only a few hours, never regaining consciousness, is to be buried this afternoon at Hood's Grove Church. Can't you go to the funeral and burial." These were the unwelcome words addressed to me by Judge W. S. Stevens, as I entered a barber shop in Smithfield on the morning of the 6th of December, 1915. I did go, for if I had a devoted friend on this earth, it was Bill Rose, Jr. and it was seemingly to me the saddest interment I ever attended, my own kindred not excepted. Commrades in the same military company for four long, bloody years of war, sharing each other's blanket, wormy hardtacks, blue beef, muddy midnight marches, hazardous scout and treacherous picket duty, as well as the sharp- shooting skirmish line and an awful infantry charges against battle-lines of infantry and masked batteries of artillery, witnessing the carnage of friend and foe alike. Yes, after the war through these long years, we never forgot or abandoned that sweet comradeship all through the dark days of Reconstruction, carpet- bagism, Freedman's Bureau indignities, Republican red string, Union League Secret political organizations, that had to be over-thrown by the Ku-Klux organization that brought final white supremacy triumph. Our shut anchors were side by side, and in 1870 when I shuffled off my single-blessedness, Bill Rose was my "best man," as true as steel. I will remember his beautiful screw-ball mule and palafox goat hide buggy robe that kept his bridesmaid so warm and snug in that thirty-mile ride. We studied Free Masonry together, took lectures from B. W. Hatcher until we could drop a piece of Lebanon timber, square a rough ashler from the quarries, stand them in the North East corner, do the speculative work on the five points of fellowship and lose him with the free use of the Lion's Paw of Judah. And the "Eastern Star" degrees for the Ladies will today attest. In politics, we always agreed, he having been partially rewarded for his unflinching democracy, with a seat in the State Senate, and a wise and useful member he made. He also wrote the splendid sketch of the 24th North Carolina Regiment, after all the nigh graduates of the regiment had failed to heed Judge Clark's request. One of the most valuable and interesting documents in our Court House was compiled by Bill Rose, and shame upon the county, he was so poorly rewarded. I refer to the Roster of Confederate Soldiers (with comments) who went to the Confederate War from Johnston County. (In it is found Barney King dead at Elmyra Prison in New York of small pox.) He was on the Pension Board for many years, even up to death, but too modest to ask for anything for himself. He served for may years as Justice of the Peace and his knack of happily marrying couples and diplomatic manner of compromising and adjusting all causes of litigation among neighbors made him the prince of diplomacy. For many years, he was Township Tax Assessor and List-taker, whose judgment was always in line with law and equity. His uniform courtesy and bland greetings to all was universally remarked. But after all, he was only mortal. After passing the alloted three-score and ten by four years, the summons came, the chilly hand of death was laid on him. His loving family and admiring friends will never meet him again on this earth, and have the benefit of his wise counsel and pleasant greetings. He was consigned to the tomb by his friends with Masonic honors by the Lodge that he was so long Master of, Judge W. S. Stevens, of Fellowship Lodge officiating by an agreement with the deceased, that the longest living should so honor the other. A large number of relatives and friends attended and listened to the most appropriate sermon that I have heard for many a long day. Even the Negroes in the community came for a last sad look at their life-long friend. "Sleep, soldier sleep, though many regret thee, Who stand by the cold bier today; Tears from each comrad are falling, For the widow and the orphan are there, But he hears not the voices of their mourning, Nor awakes to the bugle's sound." The spade that opened his will ere long open our graves; the coffin that contains his, will ere long contain our remains, but by faith in the new dispensation and Judah's Lion, the resurrection is clearly taught. Then let us emulate this good man so that when the grim monster comes, he may be a welcome messenger. My sympathies go out to the bereaved family. May every one of them be comforted by divine grace and at last meet him in the house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens. C. S. Powell Smithfield, December 15, 1915 ============================================================== USGENWEB NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, data may be used by non-commercial entities, as long as this message remains on all copied material. The electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or for presentation by other persons or organizations. 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