CRISWELL, James S. (1837-1909)

CRISWELL, MCKINLEY, STROHL, BELLWOOD, EACRETT, STEELE

Posted By: Kathy Weaver (email)
Date: 5/10/2016 at 09:40:54

Malvern Leader
Oct 14, 1909

ANSWERS LAST ROLL CALL
Jas. S. Criswell, One of Mills County's Best Citizens Called to His Reward.

Our entire community was saddened last Sunday morning when it was made known that James S. Criswell, one of our best known citizens, who had been so sick for a week past, had passed away. Everyone knew "Uncle Jim," as he was affectionately called by many, and everyone liked and respected him. Few men we know of had a greater number of personal friends. While he had lived in Malvern but a short time comparatively, he had lived in the county a great many years and had always made his influence felt for the best interests of the community in which he lived. We were glad, personally, when he moved to Malvern for we had always enjoyed his companionship and we were pleased to have him near us and had hoped that he might be spared to us a good many years. His loss is a personal one to as many people as any one who ever passed from among us.

The funeral was held Tuesday afternoon from the Methodist church, conducted by Rev. W.A. Black, the pastor. The G.A.R., the O.E.S., and Masonic fraternities, of which he was a member, each attended the funeral in a body in large numbers. The music was furnished by a special choir, Messrs. Fred Stone, Shelby Watson, Lawrence Talbott and Reed Graves and Misses Bertha Bushnell, Lottie Deardorff, Emma Boylan and Mrs. F.R. Chantry, who sang songs that were favored by the deceased. Misses Ruth Kneeland, Ruth Young, Della Ware and Grace Churchill acted as flower bearers.

The honorary pallbearers were members of the G.A.R.: Messrs. A.J. Chantry, C.W. Black, Isaac Dice, J.H. Suits, Richard Hammond and H.H. Woodrow.

The active pallbearers were from the Masonic order: Messrs. Fred Durbin, W.G. Clark, L.W. Miller, H.E. Boyer, George Schurr and C.E. Peer.

After the sermon at the church the members of the O.E.S. gave their beautiful ritualistic service and at the cemetery the Masons conducted the final ceremonies.

The church was crowded to the utmost to contain those who came to pay their last respects to the dear departed. The fore part of the church was fairly banked with flowers sent by friends and relatives of the deceased and by the orders to which he belonged.

Preceding the sermon at the church Charles E. Eacrett, a life long friend, gave the following obituary:

James S Criswell was born in York county, Penn., April 2, 1831, and died Oct. 10, 1909, in Malvern, Mills county, Iowa. He lived on a farm until 1861 when he enlisted in the 76th regiment of Pennsylvania volunteers. He re-enlisted in the regimental band at Washington, D.C. He came home on a furlough in December, 1884, and married Mary J. McKinley, after which he went back to Washington, and stayed until June, 1865, when the war was over.

Eight children were born to this union: Mrs. Jennie Strohl, Robert G. Criswell, Mrs. Abbie Bellwood, Mrs. Mattie Eacrett, Mrs. Agnes Steele, Stephen M. Criswell, Miss May Crisswell, and Charles Criswell, all living in Mills county except Mrs. Mattie Eacrett, whose home is in Laurel, Montana.

"Uncle Jim," as he was familiarly called, came west in 1871, "when was heard the tread of the pioneer - the first low wash of waves, where soon shall roll a human sea." He settled on eighty acres on which the present farm home stands, which was the nucleus about which by his industry, thrift and good practical ideas, he added several hundred acres to the original entry. He was a close observer of nature and often at Farmers' Institutes gave instructive talks along agricultural lines. "Uncle Jim," the writer once said to him, "our bees all died last winter." "Fasten your empty hives up in the trees; the bee sends a scout out looking up in the trees for a new home." We did so and were rewarded with an abundance of honey.

He was a jolly good social fellow, having an unlimited supply of stories which he told in his inimitable way. But with all his jollity he had his serious side. He joined the Methodist church when twenty years old, ever sustaining the church of his choice, giving of his wealth to her cause and needs. Some thirty-five years ago we recollect of Mr. Criswell drilling us on a Sunday School song, founded on Isaiah 2:2 and 3, "And it shall come to pass in the last days that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountain, and shall be exalted above the hills and all nations shall flow unto it." "And many people shall go and say, come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, and he will teach us of his ways." The song was, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord," and the refrains was, "and he will teach us of his ways."

We have reason to believe that our friend who passed over would, when depressed in some slough of despondency, hie himself away to the mountain tops that the Lord might teach him the way. Strange that that song of Mr. Criswell's should come to mind after the lapse of over three decades.

"Come with me, Mary," were the last words to his wife. No doubt similar words were spoken at the betrothal among Pennsylvania's hills. "Come with me, Mary," when they turned their faces westward to found a home and family. That world within a world. That Kingdom within a Kingdom. What joys; what sorrows; what responsibilities! As broad as the world and as high as Heaven.

I have no patience with the namby pamby, goody goody, agnostic Sadducean theology that says that Heaven is a place of continued psalm singing and palm waving - that says we "don't know." That there is no resurrection, no spirit, no Heaven, no hell. We can know; we do know. "Nunc Licet" is written above the door of the Temple of Wisdom, and we enter into the Mysteries of Faith, if we will, see of the employments and enjoyments of Heaven; see of the distress and disasters of hell.

Our friend is not dead; even now angels are ministering to him and with words of ineffable kindness are instructing him. Those arms that carried the musket, that guided the plow, that bound the sheaf, are useless now. The real man has gone forth, substantial and enduring; a thousand fold more perfect; ten thousand fold more able to perform the work and service of the Kingdom of God.