| Notes |
- The Kalamazoo Telegraph
January 11, 1869
It is with peculiar feelings of sadness that we announce the death of Mrs. C. A. Hascall, wife of Mr. H. E. Hascall and daughter of the late and greatly lamented Wm. A. Alcott. The announcement will fall with a tearful shock upon her numerous friends, few of whom, it is presumed could have known of her illness ever so quickly did her disease - Typhoid fever - terminate in death. It was scarce three weeks since her mother had left her, im her usual health, to go east for the winter. As soon as her disease assumed a serious character, Mrs. Alcott was recalled, but arrived but a few hours before the death of her daughter - too klate to be recognized by her. A most lovely, cultivated, refined, Christian woman, her death will be deeply felt by all who knew her; but most of all in her family, where she was eminently a light and joy.
From the shock of her father's death which occurred a few months since, Mrs. Hascall had never recovered. Between father and daughter there was, in all things, a peculiar and most tender sympathy, and since his death, all her friends had noticed a depression of spirit, from which she seemed to find it impossible to rally, and the circumstances operated most unfavorably for her recovery, when disease attacked her. Mrs. Hascall leaves two children. Her husband accompanied her remains to Boston, where her father's were borne - to the graves of their father.
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The Kalamazoo Telegraph
March 3, 1869
We recieved to late for publication last week the following beautiful tribute to the lively character and many virtues of Mrs. C. A. Hascall, but on the reception of the communication from Rev. Mr. Flagg, which will be found in another column on the inside, we were requested to withhold this. At a late hour for this issue, however, we are again requested to publish it as first ordered, which will account for the separation of the two articles:
" In Mount Auburn, the beautiful city of the dead, where art vies with nature to adorn and make attractive the last resting place of humanity, a plain marble stone, has been placed at the head of a new made grave, bearing this inscription, " Carrie. Faithful."
Hundreds of miles away, in one of the most beautiful towns of the far famed West, is the counterpart of this history. In the first month of the new year, as the shades of evening were gathering around, a thick and impentrable darkness enveloped a family circle, as with the tearful eyes and saddened hearts they stood around the death bed of one who was the light and joy of the household. Everything that love or skill could suggest for the recovery of the loved one had been tried, and a hope was kindled that proved but the flickering of an expiring flame. "God's messenger of death seemed blindly stern.
For the first time in life the mother could get no response from her first born, most dutiful child, the very life chords of whose heart were so tenderly entwined with her own, that it seemed as though life could not be continued in one and yet become extinct in the other. Around this whole life, now waning what sunny memories clustered! How bad the sensitive, sympathetic nature of this dying one till now responded with unwavering fidelity to every demand made upon it, and given forth filial love in all its richness and fullness. The words "My wife" which had ever fallen on the ear like sweet melody brightening the eye and gladdening the heart, now fell unheeded. The ear had become deaf to earthly sounds. The call "to come up higher" was sounding from heavenly voices. There was granted then to her spirit a glimpse of her other home - those blessed "mansions" that her Savior had gone to "prepare for her," and in her vision a spirit unseen by others was waiting to conduct her to the realms of the Blest. It seemed to beckon her, and her face radiant with smiles, she answered, "Coming, Father, coming, but not quite yet." Heaven opened to take its child home, and forever consecrated the place from which her spirit ascended.
In her Eastern home, while surrounded with youthful pleasures and gayeties, her soul had craved better and more enduring sources of joy. She listened to the still, small voice of God's inviting love, and chose the better portion that life nor death could take away. She lived henceforth a life of obedience to her Savior, in the spirit of that heavenly charity that " seeketh not its own."
Five years since, in God's own house,, with a trusting, cheerful, joyful heart, she took the vows of wedded love to be her own no longer. Well did she keep those vows. With a love that knows no bounds, and an entire self-renunciation, no care, or service, or sacrifice was too much for husband, children and friends. The blessed consciusness of making others happy was happiness enough for her. New springs of love and joy were opened as years flew by; not cloudless years, but happy still in the serene pride and chastened dignity of wifehood and motherhood. Gentle Carrie! loving heart! thou didst thy mission in love. Sweetly does the memory of thy good deeds rest on many a heart, and acceptably has their incense arisen to heaven, where thou now dwellest a glorified saint, reaping the reward of a sweat, amiable, self-sacrificing life.C.E.G.
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1839 - 1869 (30 years)
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