31 March 2014

Caroline Augusta Scott: Not Dead, But Sleepeth

She Is Not Dead But Sleepeth

Caroline Augusta
Daughter of Isaac and Caroline Scott:
Born in Macon, Georgia September 25, 1840;
Died in Macon July 27, 1868.

Erected by Her Fond Mother in Memory to an Affectionate
Daughter.  We are Parted in this Life, but Hope to Meet in a Happy
Eternity; Where there is No More Parting, Sorrow or Tears.

"Blessed are they who die in the Lord, for they rest from their labors."

13 March 2014

Old Veteran George Keith Dies, Then Waits

He survived the Battle of Chancellorsville, but he couldn't beat old age.  I just hope he wasn't lonely in the end.

On his 1908 Indigent Soldier Confederate Pension Application, George A. Keith stated, "Have no family. Children all married. So far as I know they have no homestead or property." George's wife Sarah died in 1901, and he had been living in the Soldiers' Home of Atlanta, Georgia since 1904. Upon his death in 1919, this was the headline and article that ran in the 8 November edition of the Atlanta Constitution:
GEORGE H. KEITH DIES
Old Veteran Had Been Missing for Several Days.


George H. Keith, 78 years old, and a resident of the Confederate Soldiers' home, died Friday morning at 8:30 o'clock at 129 1/2 Edgewood avenue from an attack of heart failure. The body was carried to Harry G. Poole's chapel and will be held there pending funeral arrangements.

Several days ago the old veteran left his comrades of Bull Run, Appomattox, and his whereabouts in Atlanta were unknown until the announcement of his death was made.

Immediately after his disappearance the police were notified to institute a quiet search for the old veteran, but no trace leading to his recovery could be found.
George's death certificate can be freely viewed online at FamilySearch.org. It shows he "died suddenly" of "heart failure". And it appears some of the certificate was filled out before an informant could arrive.

Same such situation surrounds his burial. George was not laid to rest in Rose Hill Cemetery until almost a week after his death, waiting for family to arrive.

George A. Keith
Pvt Co B 2 Battn Ga Inf
Confederate States Army
Dec 22, 1841 - Nov 7, 1919

Photo by James Allen

30 January 2014

Another M. Muldoon & Co. Monument

As I continue the painstaking task of entering all of my Rose Hill Cemetery information into one central database (I'm up over 1,200!), I came across this quick little tidbit and thought to share.

Some of you might be readers of my Southern Graves blog (thank-you!). A post from June 2012 describes and shows the work of marble cutter Michael Muldoon. While his American shop was based out of Louisville, Kentucky, he had a studio and workshop in Italy. Seems most of the actual carving of the Italian marble was done there, possibly by a French sculptor named Charles Bullit. It's interesting to note at least one of those Muldoon creations ended up in Rose Hill Cemetery (I dare say there are likely more).

The double columned and arched monument placed for Amanda R. &
T. J. Shinholser was crafted by M. Muldoon & Co. of Louisville, KY.
It's likely made of Italian marble and possibly carved in Italy.

Amanda R. Shinholser (1818-1898)
and
T. J. Shinholser (1802-1879)

Maybe after the snow melts, I'll return and get some better photos!

05 January 2014

To Bury Six Children

It's an unthinkable thought. So I doubt James Williams, originally from North Carolina, foresaw the heartache that would befall him when he purchased the lot in Rose Hill Cemetery about a year after it opened.

James William Lot
Central Avenue Division East, Rose Hill Cemetery

James and his wife Catherine Arnett had to make the trek to the cemetery over and over again. Six times. Seven times for Catherine, since she outlived her husband as well. I can only imagine the scene. Entering the cemetery and following the main road until it starts to slope downward. Then turning right and climbing up a slight elevation. Unfortunately, the path likely became well known and worn. No thought was required for the direction of their steps.

Funerals were held in the spring, summer, and winter. And they lost children at ages ranging from 17 months, to 15 and 29 years. No rhyme or reason is apparent.

Little Catharine Arnett, Mary Jane, Sarah Mason, and Henry James.

In addition to the four mentioned in the caption above, there was also James E., aged 15 years, and Felix A., who was a railroad fireman before his death.

Sarah Mason
Daughter of James & Catharine Williams
Died 28th July 1841
Aged 18 months & 26 days

Henry James
Son of James & Catharine Williams
Died 7th May 1859
Aged 17 Months and 25 days

In Christ He Sleeps
James Williams
Born in Edgecombe Co, North Carolina Feb 10, 1795
Died in Macon, Ga Oct 17, 1871

Catherine Williams
Wife of James Williams
Born Nov 4, 1805
Died Sep 8, 1882

The last lines of Catherine's epitaph are especially poignant, and I hope they are true --
Sweet be thy rest, Till He bids thee arise.

All photos © 2014 S. Lincecum.

25 November 2013

Now I Know Franklin Adamson's Cause of Death

Way back in February 2009, I wrote an article about Franklin Green Adamson. He was the son of Samuel Taylor Adamson and Mary Elizabeth Bright. All three rest in the Cabiness Ridge section of Rose Hill.

Franklin Green Adamson
Sept 4, 1875
May 1, 1922
He Loved To Make Others Happy

In the article mentioned, I noted that Frank had died at the young age of just 46 years and wondered what was the cause. Well, now I know.  I revisited Mr. Adamson, conducted more research, and brought up an image of his death certificate.

"Georgia, Deaths, 1914-1927," index and images, FamilySearch
(https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/JDXW-FFF : accessed 25 Nov 2013),
 Franklin Green Adamson, 01 May 1922.

The document answered my initial question -- Frank's cause of death was "heart disease with pneumonia." Most everything else on the certificate of death was as expected.  Frank was married, he was a locomotive engineer for G. S. & F. Railway Company, his father was S. T. Adamson, and his mother's maiden name was Bright.  This information was provided by Frank's brother Edward.

A tidbit that should be noted, however, is the birth date.  The document states it as Sept 5th, 1876.  But Frank's ledger marker in Rose Hill Cemetery gives it as Sept 4, 1875.  Hmmm...

08 November 2013

But Some Must Die, Even Some in Beauty's Bloom

In the Central Avenue Division of Rose Hill Cemetery rests Jane P. Shackelford, her ledger marker describing the sweet young lady she was, and the classy woman she was surely to have become. The article following details her tragic end.

In Memory Of
JANE P. SHACKELFORD
a member of the Junior Class in the Georgia Female College
who departed this life
Jany 26th, 1841
in the 15th year of her age.

Never was there a happier commingling of all the virtues that adorn the
female character, than was to be found in this early victim of the grave.
In childhood's hour she had been taught the precepts of the adorable
Saviour, and in after life she exemplified in her meek and pious
deportment, that those divine precepts had been deeply engraven upon
her heart by the Spirit of God.  Though sudden was the call, yet was she
prepared through the merits of her Redeemer, to enter upon the realition of
the Heavenly World.  This humble tribute is from one, who would ill become
to utter flattery or praise, but who can calculate the measure of that pang,
which strikes the parents heart upon the loss of such a child.  Whither shall
he go for comfort.  Let him look up and say,
"Thy will, O God, be done."
DIED,
At the Female College, in this city, on the 26th ult., Miss JANE SHACKELFORD, daughter of F. R. Shackelford, of Darien, formerly of this place, in the 14th year of her age.

But some must die, e'en some in beauty's bloom
Be laid within the cold and silent tomb.

The melancholy circumstances attending the untimely death of this young lady, are briefly these: -- She was a member of the College, and on the Wednesday preceding her death, whilst alone in her room, thoughtfully engaged in preparation for her customary recitations, her dress accidentally came in contact with the fire, near which she was sitting, and was instaneously [sic] enveloped in flames. With that calm self possession, which the war-worn veteran, who has faced danger and death at the cannon's mouth can never acquire, and a resolution unknown to ordinary intellects, she endeavoured by her own exertions to extinguish them; as calmly as if it was a premeditated act, she strove to arrest their progress, but the advance of the devouring element was too rapid to be subdued, by such means, and in the attempt her hands were dreadfully burned. Assistance was called, and quickly came, but all too late. The fire was quickly subdued, but its progress had been fatally rapid. Every exertion that skill or kindness could devise to relieve the sufferer was put in requisition, but in vain. She lingered in agony until the Tuesday following, when her pure spirit took its flight to another and better world... [Macon Weekly Telegraph (Georgia) 9 February 1841, pg. 3]
Credit: original photo by James Allen. Slightly cropped variation above by S. Lincecum.

07 August 2013

Midnight in the City of the Dead, Pt 2

MIDNIGHT IN THE CITY OF THE DEAD (continued)
...We could but listen. Thoughts, for which neither reason nor training are responsible, at times flash over the mind, and so we stood there with all this night tremulous with this strange rapture, there came a dream, that this weird melody, born out of the silence of death, was chastened grief turned to joy, and made immortal in melody. It came and passed, casting a fleeting shadow on Belief, as the shadow of a bird falls upon the upturned face of an infant that watches, and leaves its mark only upon the memory.

Just out of the line of these aisles our companion pointed to a group of pines, whose trunks and branches wove themselves into the semblance of a ruined cathedral. The columns were standing, and the rotten roof, across whose opening the white moon was swiftly gliding, seemed just ready to drop downward. A low, murmurous breeze shook the foliage, and like the far, faint chanting of a hymn, we heard its whispers. This low-voiced breeze, this only sound which reaches us from eternity (DeQuincy), heard through this temple of the pines above the graves of many thousand, spoke its message not in vain.


On we pass, up the river, turning once to look into the hollow aisle we have forsaken. The deep, transparent shadows, lie within. It is the back ground Correggio loved, the
shades Rembrandt learned so well. It only needed a fair face beside the scarred beech, to make the picture perfect, and who can doubt but there have been wanderers there, who, turning from a flower-decked tomb, have paused to look upon the perfect picture wrought by Memory's potent touch.

And so lingering no more, we continue the journey. White robed forms stand back among the trees pointing to heaven: a child sleeping upon a marble bed with upturned face at rest; a boy kneeling forever with hands clasped in prayer, and silent crosses keep watch. Into the light, into the shadow, we pass back and forth, as these slumberers had passed through joys and sorrows. The river is far away behind us, the broad entrance before. As we pass out we think if all the grief that has sobbed beneath that arch could return and find voice, the walls of heaven itself would tremble and the angels' song be hushed.


[Author of text unknown. Item published in the 7 October 1881 "Georgia Weekly Telegraph" (Macon, GA). Photos © 2009-2013 S. Lincecum.]
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