West Branch Times, West Branch, Iowa, Thursday, October 15, 1903
Transcribed by Sharon Elijah, October 14, 2018
BRIEF SKETCH OF AUNT SALLIE COWGILL
By Elias Branson Cowgill. West Branch, Iowa, Oct. 8, 1903
Sarah Cowgill was born in Belmont county, Ohio, January 29, 1826, and died at Topeka, Kas., Oct. 4, 1903. Her parents were Ralph and Betsy (Spencer) Cowgill. She was the last survivor of a family consisting of Phineas, Jonathan, Jeptha, Ann (Satterthwait), Sarah and William. Most of these settled in this vicinity in 1852-3.
As a child on her father’s farm in Ohio, Sarah, who as long ago as the writer can remember was affectionately called “Aunt Sallie,” petted all of the stock, helped about the household work, including the spinning and weaving, and was general utility maid, especially useful and sympathetic when anybody or any animal was sick or in trouble. At school she was too full of mischief and fun to do the best work. When her oldest brother was the teacher, he sought to punish her by placing her on a bench with some little boys. The boys were more punished than she. They crowded off to the further end of the seat. This was fun for her and she quietly slid along the bench toward them. They crowded away harder and harder until finally the little fellow on the end of the bench fell off.
After coming to Iowa she became the owner of two farms. Of course she entered fully into the social life of the new county.
The death of the mother of the writer, wife of Phineas Cowgill, had left a work which she accepted as hers. She became housekeeper for her brother, and faithful, cheerfully, gladly and well she performed the part of mother to the two little boys. Other changes came and Aunt Sallie became the general helper in every time of need for the several families of her own relations and many others who soon learned to value her quick sympathy, her jovial cheerfulness, and her willing helpfulness, as well as her quick interest in their affairs.
When the great war began to make calls for the help of the women, as well as the men, Aunt Sallie was keeping house for a number of her nephews and nieces who were attending the Iowa State University. There was a call for nurses. Under the auspices of the U.S. Christian Commission, Aunt Sallie answered this call. Quickly arranging her affairs she went to the front. She was at Chattanooga when the men wounded in the dreadful carnage at Chickamauga were brought in. Here were subject enough for her deepest sympathies. Men and boys covered with the blood and grime of battle—armless men, legless men, men shot through the head, shot through the breast, shot through the abdomen, men with saber cuts and bayonet thrusts, men and boys begging for water, imploring that a letter be written home to mother, to wife or to sweetheart, men dying for the tender touch of a woman’s hand or for a look at a kindly woman’s face, men thrown upon hard floors to be placed upon beds—work, work and sympathy.
Aunt Sallie was not found wanting at this terrible hour, during these terrible days, nor weary as they lengthened into weeks. There were other good angels there and they cheered the life into many a dying soldier, they eased the death struggle of many an expiring patriot, and the boys in blue will never cease to bless them and revere them as long as there is left one who passed through the ordeals of the greatest war in history. Aunt Sallie staid by the work until, overcome by fever, she was compelled to fall back to Cincinnati.
After the war she entered the service of the state of Iowa as a cottage manager in the soldiers’ orphans’ home at Davenport. Here she had 80 little girls in charge. These have risen in various parts of the country to call her blessed. After several years of this work, trouble with her eyes, resulting in blindness, compelled her to take a rest.
In 1870 she disposed of her two farms in Iowa and with her brother William and family settled in Wilson county, Kansas. The country was new and society was in the formative state during the years of her sojourn there. The writer has visited that section and the kindly inquiries about Aunt Sallie and the warm words of commendation from the old settlers show that there as elsewhere her active interest in everything and her deep sympathy with everybody’s sorrow and her ever ready helpfulness were not laid aside on account of the hardships of the frontier.
Later, ways opened for work among the Indians and she took a position in the Indian school at Fort Sill, I.T. Still later, she was employed at Haskell Institute, the Indian school at Lawrence, Kas. Her strong Christian character was the element needed in these schools. She impressed it on those around her. Her contact with the Indians and the access which her active sympathies gave her to the best there was in them, gave her an abiding confidence in the red men’s capabilities to rise. If those in control of Indian affairs could get next to the Indians as she got next to them, many of the mistakes of Indian management might be avoided, if indeed there were exercised sufficient honesty to deal justly and wisely with poor Lo.
While Aunt Sallie was filling her engagement at Fort Sill Indian school the writer was bereft of his companion. She was not long in deciding that her place was with the stricken father and little daughter. When other changes came and she was again free to devote herself to the great world, she went forth with the assurance that as long as she lived there would be a home that was hers to come to at her pleasure. The succeeding years were spent in going about doing good. Her ministrations extended from Ohio to California. Her excessive generosity grew upon her and became the one weakness against which she had to contend. Everywhere she found people who needed things worse than she, and she gave. Her property and all she earned disappeared in this way.
Her long illness at West Branch and her Christian character manifested during the long months when she lay face to face with death are so well known that they need not be recounted here.
About the first of last July she signified to the writer that she would be able to make the trip to Topeka by the middle of that month. At the time appointed he came for her. She stood the trip well. After residing in Topeka one month, she was weighed and was somewhat disappointed to find that she had gained only 1 ½ pounds. She had grown much better and stronger, however, and was able to wait upon herself in every way. Her sight was so much better that she could read, and she insisted on helping with the mending. At the end of two months she was weighed again and rejoiced to find that she had gained 10 pounds in all. This was on Friday, September 25. She was in high spirits and very jolly. The next day she remembered that she had neglected to pay a dressmaker 50 cents which she owed. She insisted on driving right over and paying the debt. The morning was cooler than she thought and she got quite cold. The afternoon looked bright and she again rode down town, but the weather turned cooler and she was chilled when she reached home. She seemed well as ever on Sunday morning, went to church and remained for half an hour after church to be introduced to people.
This was the Central Congregational church, of Topeka, Rev. Charles M. Sheldon, pastor. She had made application for membership in this church. She was unanimously elected at the midweek meeting on Thursday evening, Oct. 1, and was to have been publicly received on Sunday, Oct. 4 She and Mr. Sheldon had formed a very warm friendship, and she began to think that in this church of active workers there might yet be some work for her to do. On Monday morning she was up early as usual and said she felt well. During the forenoon she took a severe chill. About noon she started to go up stairs and fell on the lower step. She was helped to her bed and Dr. Stewart, one of the first physicians of Topeka, was called. Her case turned out to be a light attack of pneumonia. This soon yielded to treatment. Torpidity of the bowels followed. This was somewhat obstinate, but was overcome. On Friday she was feeling so much better that she suggested discharging the trained nurse. The latter part of Friday night she was restless and delirious. On Saturday morning she joked about her delirium and considered it as nothing in comparison with what she had experienced during her long illness at West Branch. During Saturday forenoon she complained of headache; just at noon she complained of very severe pains in her head and immediately went into a comatose state. Dr. Stewart arrived a few minutes later and after examination, gave it as his opinion that she had suffered the rupture of a blood vessel in the brain. Later she seemed to recognize those who ministered to her, she tried to talk and could not, but indicated by signs that she wanted water or to be turned on her side. The heroic treatment with nitroglycerine and strychnine was resorted to. She grew weaker as the hours passed and finally at half past five on Sunday morning ceased to breathe and looked as if she had fallen asleep.
Before she went to Topeka she arranged that at her death she should be brought back to West Branch for burial. On Monday afternoon the neighbors and friends she had met in Topeka gathered at the house and covered her coffin with flowers. Mr. Sheldon conducted a brief service in which he pointed out the excellence of a life of self-sacrificing service and the value and immortality of such a life in the world.
The body arrived at West Branch on Tuesday morning and was immediately taken in charge by the Grand Army Post of which she was long an honorary member. The comrades tenderly placed the bier in the room which Aunt Sallie had so long occupied at Mr. McClellan’s, where the kindly smiling face was viewed by the friends of many years. At one o’clock appropriate services were led by Rev. H. H. Barton of the M.E. church, and Friend Archibald Crosbie of the Friends. The Grand Army took charge and conveyed the body to the Hickory Grove meeting house of Friends, where the burial forms of this Society were observed, after which all that was moral of Aunt Sallie was laid away near the grave of her only sister in the quiet little graveyard on the hill.
Aunt Sallie was the last of her family. She lived to a riper old age than any of them. She probably had not an enemy among the thousands of people that knew her. She found the good in everybody and by encouragement enveloped and enlarged it. The written memory of her extends over more than half a century. During all that time she petted and encouraged him, she petted and encouraged all of his children and grandchildren, and her memory is a heritage that would not be exchanged for money.
