MUSCATINE COUNTY IOWA REGISTER OF OLD SETTLERS BOOK ONE

Source: REGISTER OF OLD SETTLERS , BOOK One, page 478
submitted by Ronna Thuman, December 12, 2007

OBITUARY
Mrs. Mary Featherstone.

Saturday, June 8, was held the funeral of Mrs. Mary Featherstone. The services were conducted by Rev. Crull, of Sweetland, in the presence of many sorrowing friends and realtives. Mrs. Featherstone was a woman who because of her many virtues had a strong hold on the affections of those who knew her. She was conscientious and kind, ever ready to lend a helping hand, a faithful wife and mother.

She was born in Ireland, of Scotch ancestry, in 1817. Her maiden name was Mary McBride. She married James Waddle and several years later, in 1847, came with him to the United States. On the way over her fourteen-months-old babe died and was consigned to the deep. Immediately after arriving in the United States her husband died, when she became a doctor in the Clifton Springs Water Cure in New York. Here she married James Featherstone Jan. 9th, 1851. They came to Iowa in 1853, locating in Muscatine. Later they moved to Louisa county, where they lived seventeen years, when they moved to Fruitland township, from there moving to Sweetland in 1886, where they since resided. While yet a child she united with the Scotch Presbyterian church. In 1868 she united with the Methodist Episcopal church of Fruitland and with the same denomination upon her removal to that township. She was a consistent member and faithful worker in that church until her death. She had been sick for twenty-three months and during all this time received the devoted care of her husband. Three children, Sarah N., David A., and James, have preceded her to the land beyond. She leaves the grief-stricken husband and daughter, Mrs. Bessie Farnsworth, and four grandchildren, Jas. A., John, Howard J. and Carrie Farnsworth, to mourn her loss.

There were profuse floral offerings, among which was a wreath of white lilies, roses, carnations, sweet peas and ferns, from her nearest neighbor while a resident of Fruitland, Benjamin Lone.

Fading a little day by day.
Deeper the curves, grayer and grayer;
Dimmer the vision did appear.
As came and went the flecting year.
Weaker and weaker, the trembling frame,
Feeble, feeble, the vital flame;
Memory fadieth a little now.
The well-built fabric begins to bow.
A mist at times upon the brain.
Like clouds before the coming rain;
Atwilight in the place of moon,
October in the place of June.
‘Tis sundown now—the day of life
Is ended with its cares and strifes;
The twilight of eternity
Has broken o’er Death’s dark sea.
Thou are there.
Thou woman of faith and prayer,
To rest on that unfading shore
Where tears and toils and cares are o’er.

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