Mrs. Marcellus Pritchett

 
The Cartersville American
Cartersville, Georgia
March 11, 1884, page 3
 
Transcribed by:  
 

“The Tattler Talks.”

Facts and Fancies Gathered Here and There and Told by the Tattler to Tickle the Gossips and Turn the Tedious Hours into Talk.

[This is a regular column that covers a wide range of topics—this issue is two columns long and I have transcribed a portion of the article that deals with a death.—L. B.]

The angel of Death has darkened the door of one of Cartersville’s happiest homes, and robbed it of the dearest treasure a home can have. Just at the time when to her family it seemed she was most needed, Mrs. Pritchett was taken away. It was a touching sight to see the husband and seven little grief stricken children follow their mother from home to the grave. Many hearts that saw it beat in tenderest sympathy with them in their sad loss, a loss to which nothing can be compared. A home without a mother is no home at all. How I pity the child who has not seen the light and love that beams from a mother’s eyes. Who has never felt the tender caress and gentle pressure of a mother’s hand, who has never cuddled in a mother’s arms and listened to her sweet words and been lulled to sleep by her song. The memory of these happy hours, and the echo of the mother’s song and prayer has often restrained the boy from evil in the hour of temptation in after life. How hard it must be to meet the battles and temptations of life without the aid of a mother’s counsel or the help of a mother’s prayer. Yet we know that “all things work together for good to them that love God,” and we can follow the injunction of the prophet when he says “comfort ye my people” and give the bereaved father and children, our prayers and sympathy. In the great future God’s purpose in taking the mother will be revealed, and we will then see and know that “He doeth all things well.” Mrs. Pritchett was a noble, true-hearted Christian woman, and left an example that will live after her. The tribute to her memory that appears elsewhere in these columns was written by one who knew here intimately and loved her well. She was a member of the Baptist church and an earnest worker in the Woman’s missionary society. How grand it is to live and die a Christian.


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In Memory of Mrs. Marcellus Pritchett.

“Man cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth as a shadow, and continueth not.” If to our beloved sister of the cross, “The sun has gone down while it was yet day,” it was that Jesus would take to himself one that he loved. “Where I am. There shall ye also be.”

We see not as God sees; we thought that our sister was just at the meridian; God knew that her race was run; her mission ended. He gave her a work to do; she did it nobly.

As a friend she was generous, charitable, and sincere. As a mother, firm and affectionate. She was one of the few mothers that never sacrifice the real good of their children to appearances. She wisely worked for the future of her children. In her, her husband could safely trust. The interests, the joys, and the sorrows of her husband touched her as they did him. In her death the church and Woman’s Mission Society have lost an efficient member. May the memory of her life of good works, be a lasting inspiration to her pilgrim friends.

“He liveth long, who liveth well;
All else is life but flung away;
He liveth longest who can tell
Of true things, truly done each day.”


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Cassville Clatter.

We deeply sympathize with our friend, Mr. C. B. Conyers, in the sad bereavement of his sister, Mrs. Colonel Pritchett, of your city.

 

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