The Coconino Sun, Flagstaff, Arizona, Friday, March 5, 1909
A MOST CRUSHING SORROW
John Emett Dies at Lee's Ferry
150 Miles North of Flagstaff
WOMEN MAKE THE COFFIN
And Bury the Remains on the Banks of the Colorado - - - Pathetic Story Illustrating the Hardships and Trials Incident to Frontier Life.
It would hardly be possible for more sorrow and pathos to be crowded into a few lines than was expressed in a letter which John Francis received this week from his friend, James Emett, living at Lee's Ferry, 150 miles north of Flagstaff. The letter is as follows:
Lee's Ferry, Feb. 13, 1909.
Friend John: I am writing to convey to you the sad news of the death of my son, John. He contracted a severe cold last fall which developed into consumption. His death occurred January 27. The most grievous part of it was that I was away at Kanab, and only the women folks were at home when he died. They made his coffin and buried him. John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return.
Trusting all is well with you and yours, I remain,
Your friend
James S. Emett.
(Mr. Emett ‘s son was grown and married, and with his wife and several small children was living in his father's household at the time of his death)
It is hard enough to have a loved one blotted from life's page when we are surrounded by kind, compassionate friends, whose fellow feeling and sympathy to some extent assuage our sorrow and dispel the gloom of death. But in the absence of all these how crushing and overwhelming must have been the sorrow and agony of this family of women, all alone out on the frontier far beyond other human habitation, when they received such an awful visitation.
In our western life scarcely is there ever a darker picture than this must have been with these sorrowing women collecting a few pieces of rough lumber, most likely gathered from the drift, and making an impoverished casket to contain the remains of one to whom they were bound by the tenderest ties of love and kin. Then the burial in a damp grave by the river's side, with no priest or clergyman to perform the last sad and solemn duties to the dead. No choir to sing "Nearer My God to Thee." But in that dark and dreary hour the little mound, as it was heaped by women's hands trembling with sorrow, became a hallowed spot, being sanctified by the scalding tears of the grief stricken wife, mother, and sisters.
The simplest words of our language, when they come direct from the heart, are often the most touching, and no one could fail to be moved to sympathy by Mr. Emett's plain, open expression to his friend: "John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return home."
A MOST CRUSHING SORROW
John Emett Dies at Lee's Ferry
150 Miles North of Flagstaff
WOMEN MAKE THE COFFIN
And Bury the Remains on the Banks of the Colorado - - - Pathetic Story Illustrating the Hardships and Trials Incident to Frontier Life.
It would hardly be possible for more sorrow and pathos to be crowded into a few lines than was expressed in a letter which John Francis received this week from his friend, James Emett, living at Lee's Ferry, 150 miles north of Flagstaff. The letter is as follows:
Lee's Ferry, Feb. 13, 1909.
Friend John: I am writing to convey to you the sad news of the death of my son, John. He contracted a severe cold last fall which developed into consumption. His death occurred January 27. The most grievous part of it was that I was away at Kanab, and only the women folks were at home when he died. They made his coffin and buried him. John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return.
Trusting all is well with you and yours, I remain,
Your friend
James S. Emett.
(Mr. Emett ‘s son was grown and married, and with his wife and several small children was living in his father's household at the time of his death)
It is hard enough to have a loved one blotted from life's page when we are surrounded by kind, compassionate friends, whose fellow feeling and sympathy to some extent assuage our sorrow and dispel the gloom of death. But in the absence of all these how crushing and overwhelming must have been the sorrow and agony of this family of women, all alone out on the frontier far beyond other human habitation, when they received such an awful visitation.
In our western life scarcely is there ever a darker picture than this must have been with these sorrowing women collecting a few pieces of rough lumber, most likely gathered from the drift, and making an impoverished casket to contain the remains of one to whom they were bound by the tenderest ties of love and kin. Then the burial in a damp grave by the river's side, with no priest or clergyman to perform the last sad and solemn duties to the dead. No choir to sing "Nearer My God to Thee." But in that dark and dreary hour the little mound, as it was heaped by women's hands trembling with sorrow, became a hallowed spot, being sanctified by the scalding tears of the grief stricken wife, mother, and sisters.
The simplest words of our language, when they come direct from the heart, are often the most touching, and no one could fail to be moved to sympathy by Mr. Emett's plain, open expression to his friend: "John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return home."
The Coconino Sun, Flagstaff, Arizona, Friday, March 5, 1909
A MOST CRUSHING SORROW
John Emett Dies at Lee's Ferry
150 Miles North of Flagstaff
WOMEN MAKE THE COFFIN
And Bury the Remains on the Banks of the Colorado - - - Pathetic Story Illustrating the Hardships and Trials Incident to Frontier Life.
It would hardly be possible for more sorrow and pathos to be crowded into a few lines than was expressed in a letter which John Francis received this week from his friend, James Emett, living at Lee's Ferry, 150 miles north of Flagstaff. The letter is as follows:
Lee's Ferry, Feb. 13, 1909.
Friend John: I am writing to convey to you the sad news of the death of my son, John. He contracted a severe cold last fall which developed into consumption. His death occurred January 27. The most grievous part of it was that I was away at Kanab, and only the women folks were at home when he died. They made his coffin and buried him. John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return.
Trusting all is well with you and yours, I remain,
Your friend
James S. Emett.
(Mr. Emett ‘s son was grown and married, and with his wife and several small children was living in his father's household at the time of his death)
It is hard enough to have a loved one blotted from life's page when we are surrounded by kind, compassionate friends, whose fellow feeling and sympathy to some extent assuage our sorrow and dispel the gloom of death. But in the absence of all these how crushing and overwhelming must have been the sorrow and agony of this family of women, all alone out on the frontier far beyond other human habitation, when they received such an awful visitation.
In our western life scarcely is there ever a darker picture than this must have been with these sorrowing women collecting a few pieces of rough lumber, most likely gathered from the drift, and making an impoverished casket to contain the remains of one to whom they were bound by the tenderest ties of love and kin. Then the burial in a damp grave by the river's side, with no priest or clergyman to perform the last sad and solemn duties to the dead. No choir to sing "Nearer My God to Thee." But in that dark and dreary hour the little mound, as it was heaped by women's hands trembling with sorrow, became a hallowed spot, being sanctified by the scalding tears of the grief stricken wife, mother, and sisters.
The simplest words of our language, when they come direct from the heart, are often the most touching, and no one could fail to be moved to sympathy by Mr. Emett's plain, open expression to his friend: "John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return home."
A MOST CRUSHING SORROW
John Emett Dies at Lee's Ferry
150 Miles North of Flagstaff
WOMEN MAKE THE COFFIN
And Bury the Remains on the Banks of the Colorado - - - Pathetic Story Illustrating the Hardships and Trials Incident to Frontier Life.
It would hardly be possible for more sorrow and pathos to be crowded into a few lines than was expressed in a letter which John Francis received this week from his friend, James Emett, living at Lee's Ferry, 150 miles north of Flagstaff. The letter is as follows:
Lee's Ferry, Feb. 13, 1909.
Friend John: I am writing to convey to you the sad news of the death of my son, John. He contracted a severe cold last fall which developed into consumption. His death occurred January 27. The most grievous part of it was that I was away at Kanab, and only the women folks were at home when he died. They made his coffin and buried him. John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return.
Trusting all is well with you and yours, I remain,
Your friend
James S. Emett.
(Mr. Emett ‘s son was grown and married, and with his wife and several small children was living in his father's household at the time of his death)
It is hard enough to have a loved one blotted from life's page when we are surrounded by kind, compassionate friends, whose fellow feeling and sympathy to some extent assuage our sorrow and dispel the gloom of death. But in the absence of all these how crushing and overwhelming must have been the sorrow and agony of this family of women, all alone out on the frontier far beyond other human habitation, when they received such an awful visitation.
In our western life scarcely is there ever a darker picture than this must have been with these sorrowing women collecting a few pieces of rough lumber, most likely gathered from the drift, and making an impoverished casket to contain the remains of one to whom they were bound by the tenderest ties of love and kin. Then the burial in a damp grave by the river's side, with no priest or clergyman to perform the last sad and solemn duties to the dead. No choir to sing "Nearer My God to Thee." But in that dark and dreary hour the little mound, as it was heaped by women's hands trembling with sorrow, became a hallowed spot, being sanctified by the scalding tears of the grief stricken wife, mother, and sisters.
The simplest words of our language, when they come direct from the heart, are often the most touching, and no one could fail to be moved to sympathy by Mr. Emett's plain, open expression to his friend: "John, it was one of the trials of my life to meet my heart-broken family on my return home."
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