Daughter of Elizabeth Minta and John Cox. Married to Richard Cordley on 09 May 1859 in Hamburg, Livingston Co, MI.
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The Emporia Gazette, 13 Oct 1905, Friday
SHE WAS LONELY
This dispatch was in this morning's Kansas City Times: "I am lonely and want to die." These words were spoken by Mrs. Richard Corrdley (sic) as she was rescued from drowning in the river this afternoon by a policeman. Mrs. Cordley had gone to the river bank, left her hat and a note explaining her purpose and then waded in. She was discovered and was taken out before she drowned. Richard Cordley was for many years one of the leading Congregational ministers in the west. He died two years ago and since that time his widow has been disconsolate. She was taken home and will not be left alone any more.
The Cordleys lived in Emporia at one time, Dr. Cordley being the pastor of the First Congregational church here several years. They lived in Lawrence in the early years, moved here, and then returned to Lawrence.
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The Emporia Gazette, 02 Dec 1914, Wednesdat
MRS. RICHARD CORDLEY DEAD
Mrs. Richard Cordley, of Lawrence, died yesterday noon at her home in that town. She was the widow of the late Dr. Cordley, a former pastor of the First Congregtional church, and was held in loving esteem by many Emporia people. The funeral was held this afternoon in Plymouth Congregational church, in Lawrence. Yesterday's Lawrence Journal says:
The death of Mrs. Richard Cordley recalls the early experiences of Dr. Cordley and Mrs. Cordley in Lawrence. In his book, "Pioneer Days in Kansas," Dr. Cordley wrote appreciatively of the first home and of the home-maker who survived him.
"It was just a little cottage on a gentle slope on New York Street," Dr. Cordley wrote. "It stood on the open prairie, but soon we had spring flowers and shrubs growing, and it became an attractive spot."
"Six hundred dollars a year, as prices then were, did not allow a large margin for costly furniture but the pastor's wife had a knack for home-making, and a few dainty touches can make simple things show to advantage. A cheap but pretty paper transformed the walls, a simple but bright carpet covered the floor, and everything in the room seemed as if it belonged there. It was as cozy a home as anyone could find anywhere.
"And that little home entertained more people than many a pretentious mansion. Lawrence seemed to be one day's journey from everywhere. Brethren, traveling, always spent a night at our home, naturally going and returning. It was a rare company of people which gathered in that little home from time to time, and their presence brightened our lives wonderfully. Sometimes it threw a burden on the pastor's wife, but she bore it cheerfully and I can testify that the most cultured of our visitors seemed to enjoy her dining room more than they did my study.
"One day a handsome team drove up with a couple of gentlemen. They were one of our pastors and a wealthy layman of his church. They were both charming men and we enjoyed their visit. In the morning they lingered a while after breakfast. After they were gone, Mrs. Cordley began to clear the table, and found that the lay brother had left a dollar under his plate. She sat down and had a good cry. She had enjoyed their visit so much and it spoiled it all that he thought hospitality could be bought with money.
The superintendent of missions, Rev. Louis Bodwell, made our house his headquarters when he was in Lawrence. At other times my college chum, Parker, would come up and spend a few days. At another time it would be the reverend J. D. Liggett, of Leavenworth. He was a different kind of a man, a lawyer, an editor and a politician before he was a minister. The budget he opened was different from the rest, but none the less stimulating and inspiring. Those were rare days, days which the changed conditions make it impossible to repeat.
"The pastor's house was also a sort of parish house. Mrs. Cordley had a meeting of young women nearly every week at our house to spend the afternoon. Her chief aim was that the meetings should never be tedious and that they should never degenerate into frivolity. Our home was none the less to us because we made it of some use to others, and our own lives were surely enriched by the varied experiences which flowed through them.
Mr. Cordley had just finished a three weeks' exchange with the Kansas City pastor, when the Quantrill raid came. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley were glad to get back from Kansas City, he writes, and have forty miles between them and the border ruffians. Of the return home, he writes:
"Our little cottage had just been repainted, and as we approached it in the moonlight that evening, it seemed a gem among the trees that were growing up around it. It was our first home, and like all first homes, was very dear to us. We saw it in all its beauty that night, walking about to view it from different points. We had the full comfort of it all the next day.
Then came the raid. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley had to run for their lives to escape the ruffians. In the afternoon, after that terrible morning of doing what could be done to help the bereaved ones, they found to visit the ruins of their home. This is the scene as described by Dr. Cordley:
"All that remained was a bed of embers and ashes. Not a book or sermon, not a letter or paper, not a relic of childhood or memento of friend was saved. As we stood looking at the disconsolate scene, Mrs. Cordley quietly wept. Bodwell turned to her and said in his gentlest tones:
" 'Don't cry, Mary. You have got all you asked for. We are all here.
"No more tears were shed for the ruined home. So many all about us were carrying heavier sorrows that we could but be thankful at our own escape."
*******************************************
*******************************************
The Emporia Gazette, 13 Oct 1905, Friday
SHE WAS LONELY
This dispatch was in this morning's Kansas City Times: "I am lonely and want to die." These words were spoken by Mrs. Richard Corrdley (sic) as she was rescued from drowning in the river this afternoon by a policeman. Mrs. Cordley had gone to the river bank, left her hat and a note explaining her purpose and then waded in. She was discovered and was taken out before she drowned. Richard Cordley was for many years one of the leading Congregational ministers in the west. He died two years ago and since that time his widow has been disconsolate. She was taken home and will not be left alone any more.
The Cordleys lived in Emporia at one time, Dr. Cordley being the pastor of the First Congregational church here several years. They lived in Lawrence in the early years, moved here, and then returned to Lawrence.
*******************************************
The Emporia Gazette, 02 Dec 1914, Wednesdat
MRS. RICHARD CORDLEY DEAD
Mrs. Richard Cordley, of Lawrence, died yesterday noon at her home in that town. She was the widow of the late Dr. Cordley, a former pastor of the First Congregtional church, and was held in loving esteem by many Emporia people. The funeral was held this afternoon in Plymouth Congregational church, in Lawrence. Yesterday's Lawrence Journal says:
The death of Mrs. Richard Cordley recalls the early experiences of Dr. Cordley and Mrs. Cordley in Lawrence. In his book, "Pioneer Days in Kansas," Dr. Cordley wrote appreciatively of the first home and of the home-maker who survived him.
"It was just a little cottage on a gentle slope on New York Street," Dr. Cordley wrote. "It stood on the open prairie, but soon we had spring flowers and shrubs growing, and it became an attractive spot."
"Six hundred dollars a year, as prices then were, did not allow a large margin for costly furniture but the pastor's wife had a knack for home-making, and a few dainty touches can make simple things show to advantage. A cheap but pretty paper transformed the walls, a simple but bright carpet covered the floor, and everything in the room seemed as if it belonged there. It was as cozy a home as anyone could find anywhere.
"And that little home entertained more people than many a pretentious mansion. Lawrence seemed to be one day's journey from everywhere. Brethren, traveling, always spent a night at our home, naturally going and returning. It was a rare company of people which gathered in that little home from time to time, and their presence brightened our lives wonderfully. Sometimes it threw a burden on the pastor's wife, but she bore it cheerfully and I can testify that the most cultured of our visitors seemed to enjoy her dining room more than they did my study.
"One day a handsome team drove up with a couple of gentlemen. They were one of our pastors and a wealthy layman of his church. They were both charming men and we enjoyed their visit. In the morning they lingered a while after breakfast. After they were gone, Mrs. Cordley began to clear the table, and found that the lay brother had left a dollar under his plate. She sat down and had a good cry. She had enjoyed their visit so much and it spoiled it all that he thought hospitality could be bought with money.
The superintendent of missions, Rev. Louis Bodwell, made our house his headquarters when he was in Lawrence. At other times my college chum, Parker, would come up and spend a few days. At another time it would be the reverend J. D. Liggett, of Leavenworth. He was a different kind of a man, a lawyer, an editor and a politician before he was a minister. The budget he opened was different from the rest, but none the less stimulating and inspiring. Those were rare days, days which the changed conditions make it impossible to repeat.
"The pastor's house was also a sort of parish house. Mrs. Cordley had a meeting of young women nearly every week at our house to spend the afternoon. Her chief aim was that the meetings should never be tedious and that they should never degenerate into frivolity. Our home was none the less to us because we made it of some use to others, and our own lives were surely enriched by the varied experiences which flowed through them.
Mr. Cordley had just finished a three weeks' exchange with the Kansas City pastor, when the Quantrill raid came. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley were glad to get back from Kansas City, he writes, and have forty miles between them and the border ruffians. Of the return home, he writes:
"Our little cottage had just been repainted, and as we approached it in the moonlight that evening, it seemed a gem among the trees that were growing up around it. It was our first home, and like all first homes, was very dear to us. We saw it in all its beauty that night, walking about to view it from different points. We had the full comfort of it all the next day.
Then came the raid. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley had to run for their lives to escape the ruffians. In the afternoon, after that terrible morning of doing what could be done to help the bereaved ones, they found to visit the ruins of their home. This is the scene as described by Dr. Cordley:
"All that remained was a bed of embers and ashes. Not a book or sermon, not a letter or paper, not a relic of childhood or memento of friend was saved. As we stood looking at the disconsolate scene, Mrs. Cordley quietly wept. Bodwell turned to her and said in his gentlest tones:
" 'Don't cry, Mary. You have got all you asked for. We are all here.
"No more tears were shed for the ruined home. So many all about us were carrying heavier sorrows that we could but be thankful at our own escape."
*******************************************
Daughter of Elizabeth Minta and John Cox. Married to Richard Cordley on 09 May 1859 in Hamburg, Livingston Co, MI.
*******************************************
The Emporia Gazette, 13 Oct 1905, Friday
SHE WAS LONELY
This dispatch was in this morning's Kansas City Times: "I am lonely and want to die." These words were spoken by Mrs. Richard Corrdley (sic) as she was rescued from drowning in the river this afternoon by a policeman. Mrs. Cordley had gone to the river bank, left her hat and a note explaining her purpose and then waded in. She was discovered and was taken out before she drowned. Richard Cordley was for many years one of the leading Congregational ministers in the west. He died two years ago and since that time his widow has been disconsolate. She was taken home and will not be left alone any more.
The Cordleys lived in Emporia at one time, Dr. Cordley being the pastor of the First Congregational church here several years. They lived in Lawrence in the early years, moved here, and then returned to Lawrence.
*******************************************
The Emporia Gazette, 02 Dec 1914, Wednesdat
MRS. RICHARD CORDLEY DEAD
Mrs. Richard Cordley, of Lawrence, died yesterday noon at her home in that town. She was the widow of the late Dr. Cordley, a former pastor of the First Congregtional church, and was held in loving esteem by many Emporia people. The funeral was held this afternoon in Plymouth Congregational church, in Lawrence. Yesterday's Lawrence Journal says:
The death of Mrs. Richard Cordley recalls the early experiences of Dr. Cordley and Mrs. Cordley in Lawrence. In his book, "Pioneer Days in Kansas," Dr. Cordley wrote appreciatively of the first home and of the home-maker who survived him.
"It was just a little cottage on a gentle slope on New York Street," Dr. Cordley wrote. "It stood on the open prairie, but soon we had spring flowers and shrubs growing, and it became an attractive spot."
"Six hundred dollars a year, as prices then were, did not allow a large margin for costly furniture but the pastor's wife had a knack for home-making, and a few dainty touches can make simple things show to advantage. A cheap but pretty paper transformed the walls, a simple but bright carpet covered the floor, and everything in the room seemed as if it belonged there. It was as cozy a home as anyone could find anywhere.
"And that little home entertained more people than many a pretentious mansion. Lawrence seemed to be one day's journey from everywhere. Brethren, traveling, always spent a night at our home, naturally going and returning. It was a rare company of people which gathered in that little home from time to time, and their presence brightened our lives wonderfully. Sometimes it threw a burden on the pastor's wife, but she bore it cheerfully and I can testify that the most cultured of our visitors seemed to enjoy her dining room more than they did my study.
"One day a handsome team drove up with a couple of gentlemen. They were one of our pastors and a wealthy layman of his church. They were both charming men and we enjoyed their visit. In the morning they lingered a while after breakfast. After they were gone, Mrs. Cordley began to clear the table, and found that the lay brother had left a dollar under his plate. She sat down and had a good cry. She had enjoyed their visit so much and it spoiled it all that he thought hospitality could be bought with money.
The superintendent of missions, Rev. Louis Bodwell, made our house his headquarters when he was in Lawrence. At other times my college chum, Parker, would come up and spend a few days. At another time it would be the reverend J. D. Liggett, of Leavenworth. He was a different kind of a man, a lawyer, an editor and a politician before he was a minister. The budget he opened was different from the rest, but none the less stimulating and inspiring. Those were rare days, days which the changed conditions make it impossible to repeat.
"The pastor's house was also a sort of parish house. Mrs. Cordley had a meeting of young women nearly every week at our house to spend the afternoon. Her chief aim was that the meetings should never be tedious and that they should never degenerate into frivolity. Our home was none the less to us because we made it of some use to others, and our own lives were surely enriched by the varied experiences which flowed through them.
Mr. Cordley had just finished a three weeks' exchange with the Kansas City pastor, when the Quantrill raid came. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley were glad to get back from Kansas City, he writes, and have forty miles between them and the border ruffians. Of the return home, he writes:
"Our little cottage had just been repainted, and as we approached it in the moonlight that evening, it seemed a gem among the trees that were growing up around it. It was our first home, and like all first homes, was very dear to us. We saw it in all its beauty that night, walking about to view it from different points. We had the full comfort of it all the next day.
Then came the raid. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley had to run for their lives to escape the ruffians. In the afternoon, after that terrible morning of doing what could be done to help the bereaved ones, they found to visit the ruins of their home. This is the scene as described by Dr. Cordley:
"All that remained was a bed of embers and ashes. Not a book or sermon, not a letter or paper, not a relic of childhood or memento of friend was saved. As we stood looking at the disconsolate scene, Mrs. Cordley quietly wept. Bodwell turned to her and said in his gentlest tones:
" 'Don't cry, Mary. You have got all you asked for. We are all here.
"No more tears were shed for the ruined home. So many all about us were carrying heavier sorrows that we could but be thankful at our own escape."
*******************************************
*******************************************
The Emporia Gazette, 13 Oct 1905, Friday
SHE WAS LONELY
This dispatch was in this morning's Kansas City Times: "I am lonely and want to die." These words were spoken by Mrs. Richard Corrdley (sic) as she was rescued from drowning in the river this afternoon by a policeman. Mrs. Cordley had gone to the river bank, left her hat and a note explaining her purpose and then waded in. She was discovered and was taken out before she drowned. Richard Cordley was for many years one of the leading Congregational ministers in the west. He died two years ago and since that time his widow has been disconsolate. She was taken home and will not be left alone any more.
The Cordleys lived in Emporia at one time, Dr. Cordley being the pastor of the First Congregational church here several years. They lived in Lawrence in the early years, moved here, and then returned to Lawrence.
*******************************************
The Emporia Gazette, 02 Dec 1914, Wednesdat
MRS. RICHARD CORDLEY DEAD
Mrs. Richard Cordley, of Lawrence, died yesterday noon at her home in that town. She was the widow of the late Dr. Cordley, a former pastor of the First Congregtional church, and was held in loving esteem by many Emporia people. The funeral was held this afternoon in Plymouth Congregational church, in Lawrence. Yesterday's Lawrence Journal says:
The death of Mrs. Richard Cordley recalls the early experiences of Dr. Cordley and Mrs. Cordley in Lawrence. In his book, "Pioneer Days in Kansas," Dr. Cordley wrote appreciatively of the first home and of the home-maker who survived him.
"It was just a little cottage on a gentle slope on New York Street," Dr. Cordley wrote. "It stood on the open prairie, but soon we had spring flowers and shrubs growing, and it became an attractive spot."
"Six hundred dollars a year, as prices then were, did not allow a large margin for costly furniture but the pastor's wife had a knack for home-making, and a few dainty touches can make simple things show to advantage. A cheap but pretty paper transformed the walls, a simple but bright carpet covered the floor, and everything in the room seemed as if it belonged there. It was as cozy a home as anyone could find anywhere.
"And that little home entertained more people than many a pretentious mansion. Lawrence seemed to be one day's journey from everywhere. Brethren, traveling, always spent a night at our home, naturally going and returning. It was a rare company of people which gathered in that little home from time to time, and their presence brightened our lives wonderfully. Sometimes it threw a burden on the pastor's wife, but she bore it cheerfully and I can testify that the most cultured of our visitors seemed to enjoy her dining room more than they did my study.
"One day a handsome team drove up with a couple of gentlemen. They were one of our pastors and a wealthy layman of his church. They were both charming men and we enjoyed their visit. In the morning they lingered a while after breakfast. After they were gone, Mrs. Cordley began to clear the table, and found that the lay brother had left a dollar under his plate. She sat down and had a good cry. She had enjoyed their visit so much and it spoiled it all that he thought hospitality could be bought with money.
The superintendent of missions, Rev. Louis Bodwell, made our house his headquarters when he was in Lawrence. At other times my college chum, Parker, would come up and spend a few days. At another time it would be the reverend J. D. Liggett, of Leavenworth. He was a different kind of a man, a lawyer, an editor and a politician before he was a minister. The budget he opened was different from the rest, but none the less stimulating and inspiring. Those were rare days, days which the changed conditions make it impossible to repeat.
"The pastor's house was also a sort of parish house. Mrs. Cordley had a meeting of young women nearly every week at our house to spend the afternoon. Her chief aim was that the meetings should never be tedious and that they should never degenerate into frivolity. Our home was none the less to us because we made it of some use to others, and our own lives were surely enriched by the varied experiences which flowed through them.
Mr. Cordley had just finished a three weeks' exchange with the Kansas City pastor, when the Quantrill raid came. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley were glad to get back from Kansas City, he writes, and have forty miles between them and the border ruffians. Of the return home, he writes:
"Our little cottage had just been repainted, and as we approached it in the moonlight that evening, it seemed a gem among the trees that were growing up around it. It was our first home, and like all first homes, was very dear to us. We saw it in all its beauty that night, walking about to view it from different points. We had the full comfort of it all the next day.
Then came the raid. Mr. and Mrs. Cordley had to run for their lives to escape the ruffians. In the afternoon, after that terrible morning of doing what could be done to help the bereaved ones, they found to visit the ruins of their home. This is the scene as described by Dr. Cordley:
"All that remained was a bed of embers and ashes. Not a book or sermon, not a letter or paper, not a relic of childhood or memento of friend was saved. As we stood looking at the disconsolate scene, Mrs. Cordley quietly wept. Bodwell turned to her and said in his gentlest tones:
" 'Don't cry, Mary. You have got all you asked for. We are all here.
"No more tears were shed for the ruined home. So many all about us were carrying heavier sorrows that we could but be thankful at our own escape."
*******************************************
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