“Cass Station.”

In Memoriam.

Just as the morning sun of the sixteenth day of September was coming up from behind the eastern hills, little Henry, son of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Tappe, was dying. Henry was sick just a day or two with croup.

He struggled with the grim monster death with all of the powers of his little body. But God relieved him from his pain when the angel pulled away the veil that hides the brighter sphere. Henry was nearly three years of age, he was the light of the household, the joy of a mother’s heart.

His funeral was preached by Rev. L. E. Roberts and his little body laid to rest in the cemetery of Raccoon church.

Henry our darling has left us,
But some day we shall meet,
There where the angels are singing,
There at our Saviors feet.

L. E. R.