Obituary (several)

8 February 1866 The Tumut and Adelong Times 

During the past few days death has been busy amongst the inhabitants of this and neighbouring districts.

Old familiar faces that we have been in the habit of greeting for years past - who have been, as it were, the patriarchs of the community - have passed away from us forever. 

Nor have the young or middle-aged escaped; men, women, and children have each succumbed to the Hand that made them, and daily in some graveyard the soil is flung upon the dead.

Each day some pearl drops from the jewelled thread of friendship, some well-known voice, in which we have been wont to listen, is hushed forever.

There is something very sad in the death of friends.

They die and are taken, from us and we weep; and survivors tell- us that it is not wise to grieve, for that all which is mortal perisheth.

They do not know that we grieve the more because we grieve in vain.

If our grief could bring back the dead, it would be stormy and loud - we should disturb the sunny quiet of the day - we should startle the dull night from her repose.

But our hearts would not grieve as they grieve now, when hope is dead within us.

We seem to provide for our own mortality, and to make up our minds to die.

We are warned by sickness, sleepless nights, and a hundred dull infirmities; but when our friends pass away, we lament them as though we had considered them immortal.

The death and burial of old and good friends is a solemn and impressive event.

In the   presence of death the noisy strife of party is hushed, and for awhile, at the grave side, men often feel the "touch of Nature  that makes the word akin".

As we have above said, death has made havoc amongst us within the past few days.

The younger branches of the families of Mr. Charles Long and Mr. Walter Kitto of Lacmalac have been laid low in the earth; and scarce had the mournful ceremonies terminated when the electric fluid transmitted to us the mournful intelligence of the decease of the beloved wife of the Rev Samuel Fox, of Wagga Wagga, I formerly pastor at Tumut.

This sad bereavement occurred on Monday last, and, following so speedily the death of the rev. gentleman's only daughter, has cast a gloom over the countenances of   those to whom he was more familiarly known.

On Tuesday evening the affectionate and tender-hearted wife of Mr. James Eagan of Tumut suddenly breathed her last in her 59th year.

The good old lady had been ailing for many years past, but on the morning of her decease she appeared in her usual health and spirits, and visited the stores to make purchases.

In the evening medical aid was summoned, but too late, she was beyond recall, and at about eight o'clock death claimed her for his own.

Mrs. Eagan was a member of the Roman Catholic faith, and a resident of Tumut for upwards of twenty years.

Her remains will be interred this day at 11 o'clock.

And, lastly, Mr. Charles Jones, of the Old Rose Inn, "fell to dust and was gathered to his fathers". 

For over twenty years Mr. Jones has been resident in this neighbourhood, and during that period his heart and pocket were alike opened to all who needed aid. He had been a severe sufferer for many years, in fact the beginning of his infirmities may be dated from the time of the great flood at Gundagai, on which occasion, in the prime of life, with almost superhuman strength, he took a most active part in rescuing his unfortunate neighbours, and for days was without a dry garment upon him.

But the strongman was at last wasted to a mere shadow, and as helpless as a babe. We need not expatiate on the kindness and liberality of the deceased - his name is too deeply engraven upon the hearts of his fellow townsmen to require any eulogy at our instance, and few there are who ever visited Tumut that have not heard of the genuine goodness of heart and kindness of disposition which endeared him to so wide a circle of friends and neighbours who now weep, and crave for the "Touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still." 

The deceased had attained the ripe age of sixty four, and all that is mortal of him will be interred in the Church of England Cemetery this afternoon at four o'clock.