APRIL 11, 1913


Died at her home in Harmon, Okla., Monday morning March 31st Mrs. Ethel Castiller, wife of Charley Castiller, who up till a short time ago run a general store at Harmon. She was the eldest daughter of Mrs. Wm. McCormick, who formally ran the Demo Hotel at Arnett.

None but hose who have sat in the Shadow of a great bereavement can justly weigh such a sorrow as this. Those who have gone down into the valley of suffering and stood for months by the side of a loved one, as hope after hope dropped away as the petals fall from a fading flower, know that such anguish cannot find solace in the tenderest words. She who has gone forth could not be supported on her solitary path by any earthly friend.

The husband with a devotion few men are capable of, whose strength was given sweetly, tenderly to this previous invalid, whose heroic devotions never faltered, could not detain her by the clasp of earthly love; but after the last word had been spoken, the last sign of recognition was gone, a look of peace settled on her face which proclaimed victory, and he knew she was resting on a might arm.

To the bereaved we extend our sympathy and can only say: That each death is a link that binds us to the beyond, so let us live and do that when our time comes we will be found a good link in the endless chain of the plan of nature.

APRIL 11, 1913

Poetry written by Mrs. Lizzie Smith in rememberance of Mrs. Ethel Castiller.

As I looked on your face to-day Ethel;
In the casket so white and cold
My mind flew back to the sweet little girl,
Which I knew when 14 years old.

It seemed that I loved you darling
When first we met that night,
For your heart seemed so loving and true,
And your face so happy and bright.

More than ten year have since gone by,
And over nine you have spent,
As the gentle wife of the man you loved;
Being happy and well content.

But to-day they carried your body, Ethel;
To the graveyard on the hill;
And left it sweetly sleeping.
In the grave so cold and still.

While poor Charley, mamma, papa,
Grandpa, Uncle, and sisters
Sadly wended their homeward way,
But oh' how sad is that home to-day.

But sleep on Ethel, take thy rest
None would call thee back if they could,
For you have passed through the valley and
shadow of death,
And have paid the debt which all must pay.

Submitted by: Gordon Richard


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