Flora Ann Cook
Nov. 15, 1853*-April 23, 1858
Niles Republican (Niles, Michigan), Saturday, May 1, 1858, page 3, col. 1, microfilm Niles District Library
DIED—On Friday morning the 23d of April, of malignant scarlet fever, terminating with congestion of the lungs, on the 9th day of her illness, Flora Ann, second daughter and youngest child of D.B.** and Jane M. Cook, aged four years, five months and seven days.
To have friends in time of affliction, is a blessing which we and ours know how to appreciate. The loss of our dear little Flora, brings them to sympathize with us, and those who are bowed down with similar afflictions; but no mental power can heal the wound which Death has made. Poets may sing to us, and friends may reason with us, but who can stay the grief at parting with such a lovely gem as our little flora—all life, all sunshine, all love and purity, the youngest joy of the household, the lover of music and flowers, the lover of every body and every thing in nature which her eyes rested upon. Her mirthful voice is hushed. No more we listen to her evening prayer, or take her fond night kiss. Oh, we miss her at home. We miss her in our office, where she was setting type when she was taken ill, we miss her as we approach our house—we miss her every where. It is not even consoling that a life of care, toil and turbulent strife was before our Flora, and she shuns it. We view her not through the medium of our reason, but our affections. Summons to our aid aid all the attributes of our manhood, with which we would meet and hurl defiance at the cold, selfish schemes by which we may be surrounded, and in an emergency like this, they are powerless. We remember the little cheerful, budding, blossoming and inquiring mid, how easily we stamped impressions upon it, with what entire innocent confidence it leaned upon its parents, with out a shade of suspicion that they could possibly be in error, and we realize painfully how feeble are all the efforts in rhetoric or mere taste in the rejection of language when compared with the eloquence of childish innocence; the first creates a buzz of satisfaction in the head, and in a moment is forgotten; but the last seizes upon and moulds even the most world-calloused hearts in something of it own fashion, leaving impressions so permanent as to arrest the mind, neutralize it impurities like electric flashes through the miasmatic[sic] atmosphere and assist in reconciling us to the closing scene. Twas hard to stand by the death bed of such innocence—to see the suffering jewel of our heart gasping for breath, it voice hushed, but with conscious look and motion--”father, mother, can you not help! Open the widow, give me the pure morning air!” That languid, haggard look upon a face that was to be decked at all times with joyous smiles. Oh, reader, though we were a man, we did melt down in the deep anguish of a bleeding heart. She kissed us all farewell, and when the scene closed up, she fell asleep in Jesus' arms so gently as the sun of spring came up. Letters from friends and various communications do not dispel the clouds that lower upon our house, and naught but a firm faith that He, who forth all things well, and taketh little children in His arms and blesses them and claims them as his own, and that her little happy spirit will be at the portals of eternity to conduct those who dearly loved her and whom she dearly loved, through the dark gloom into the dazzling splendor of the angelic world, can soften the pangs of bleeding hearts. Oh, we do miss her at home.
. . . 3 lengthy poems follow . . .
We tender our thanks to the proprietors of the Enquirer*** for aiding us during the last week, directing our mail, and otherwise assisting us during the time of our affliction.
*Date of birth calculated from age at date of death as set forth in Obituary
**Flora Ann was child of Darius B. Cook, editor of the Niles Republican, which may explain this unusually long obituary in a time when many deaths were not reported in the newspapers.
***Enquirer was the other weekly newspaper in Niles at that time.