Caspar R. Babcock died at his residence in this village at 3 o'clock, Friday morning, March 17, 1881, of pulmonary consumption after a long illness, the last four of five weeks of which confined him to the house. During the morning of the day of the funeral, the body which lay in a beautiful casket at the late residence of the deceased, was viewed by a great number of persons who came to take a last look at one whom they had long known and it was a source of great satisfaction that the features had undergone no change in appearance since death had claimed its victim. The funeral services were held in the Baptist Church on Tuesday, March 21, 1882. Rev. A. A. Safford preached an excellent and appropriate sermon on the occasion, from the 14th verse of the 19th Psalm: "I am fearfully and wonderfully made." The casket containing the remains of the deceased, which was placed in front of the altar, was covered with beautiful natural flowers. Notwithstanding what the weather and the traveling were the worst possible kind, a large congregation gathered to attend the services. After the conclusion of the ceremonies at the church the body was borne to the cemetery by the bearers and deposited in its last resting place. Mr. Babcock was born in the town of Pharsalia, Chenango county, NY in the year 1835 and hence was 47 years of age at the time of his death. When about 8 years of age he removed with his mother, brothers, and sister to Rhode Island, where he passed the early years of his youth. At the age of 19 he returned to the state of New York, where for some years he held various positions of business responsibilty, winning the confidence, love and respect of all with whom he became associated in a business capacity, as also, in all of his social relations. Ambitious to make his own way in life and deeming the west to offer the best opportunities for the realization of his ambition, he turned his steps westward bringing with him a few hundred dollars, the fruits of honest toil and established himself in the mercantile business in the village of Sun Prairie. This was in the year 1860. He was married in Shoreham, VT on September 12, 1864 to Miss Sarah Jones, who survives him. For over a score of years, in the midst of a community, which respected and esteemed him for his many good qualities, he has been a commendable example of business energy and enterprise and has borne an enviable reputation for perfect fairness, honesty and sterling integrity. During much of this time, too, he fought almost unceasingly a hard and stubborn fight against a mortal disease. The battle was well fought – fought with a force of will, a power of endurance truly wonderfully fought inch by inch; fought, too, uncomplainingly. But the end came; came suddenly to him, yet not unexpectedly to those who had witnessed its steady and sure approaches, especially during the last weeks of his sickness. An earnest home on the part of his friends struggled against a general fear, only to be held the more lightly as the days passed by, until the most sanguine became convinced that death had claimed his victim. To those who shared in this conviction there was perhaps, but a single exception, and the exception the man who had for so many years had so strenuously battled against a deadly foe. He never gave up the struggle – never despaired of final recovery. On the night of his death, only a few hours before the end came, he was planning business enterprises for the future; so certain did it seem to him that he would live and not die. But, as has been said, "not as he hoped, not as he anticipated, was the end to be. Death triumphed"; the silver cord was loosed; the golden bowl broken, and the place that once knew him, now knows him no more. The last view has been taken by kindred and friends, the funeral dirges have been sung, the last words have been spoken, and now all that was mortal of one who filled so large a place in our community, lies at rest where loving hands have laid him. He was and is not. And yet he is; for he still lives in the warmest affections of those to whom he was nearest and in the memory of the larger circle of the many who in life held him in high esteem; whose friendship time served only to strengthen, until to them he seemed in his own place almost a necessity. Already is the question asked, "Where shall we find the man to fill his place?" It were unseemly here – as it would be impossible – to attempt to portray the keen sense of loss felt by those to whom he was husband, father, sons, and brother, or the burden of their sorrow; ever the threshold of his home we may not pass, within the circle of his kindred we may not enter, for such a purpose. But we may say that the many who took the last look on the face of the dead, who gathered at the funeral service, who laid the body to its rest, did so, not only to show their regard for the dead, their sympathy with the living, but also, and as well, their own sense of personal loss – of the greatness of that loss. We have learned that the closing lines of Bryant's beautiful poem, "Thanatopsis" were greatly admired and often repeated by Mr. Babcock in life and now in view of his death, these lines come to the living with special emphasis." Babcock was a member of the village board at the time of his death.