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**Mother’s Birthday.Sunday. last, July 11th, was the 68th anniversary of the birthday ofptoshtyplt;piarseisMrs. Julia A. Ernsperger, the respected mother of the large family of that name who have so long re-I sided and are so well known in Ful- S ton county. Besides the boys, F. M., Frank B. aud IT. Benton, she num-A-tf 1 hers among her direct living descend-ants Mrs. Aaron Berry, Mrs. Charles n u Jackson, Mrs. M. V. Bates (Margaret is, Holmes), Mrs. Sam. Keely, Mrs. Dr.Nafe, Mrs. A. J. Davidson and Mrs. d. Samuel Nafe. She has thirty living no grand children, and ten great-grand y| children.id Mrs. Ernsperger was born in Som-id erset county, Pa. Her maiden name s- was Entsminger. When she was n- five years of age her parents remov-c- ed to Wayne county, Ohio, where, at re the age of 17,* she was married to s- Christopher Ernsperger, with whom to she lived in happy wedlock until his of death, which occurred two years ago n last May. The family removed to le Fulton county in 1858, and have ever [y since made this their home. Here i- all the boys and several of the girls c- were married, and all have made a their records. Joy and sorrow have rs I mingled in about equal proportions in the current of their lives, but their it I affection for mother has never di-d minished nor grown cold. On the l- occasion of her last birthday her i. gifted daughter, Mrs. M. V. Bates 11 (better -known to the reading public is as Margaret Holmes), wrote and it forwarded the following beautiful e | lines in her honor. They are a tribute of affection’s rarest flowers, a I and worthily adorn • the venerated y j brow upon which they are bestowed: mother’s birthday, july IItii, 1880.Throw wide the windows and doors;Let the golden sunshine in;® I Let it flood the walls and floorsS While the pleasant summer dinq J Of birds, in the rustling trees,And the fragrant winds that blow.The droning hum of bees, t. | And the brooklet's mnrmuring flow.Steal round us women and men With our weight of sin and care,Till we feci like children again ^With a mother young and fair.WiUnAuL11RoRhHeNeTon1l1IttThe years we will lay aside I, I Like a garment worn and old;j I Throw off the mask of pride,And drop Ill-gotten gold.Our hands we’ll fill with flowers,1| As in the dear old days,When our feet, through sunny hours, Knew all the pleasant ways.By the creek where blue flags grow, And the spice-wood scents the breeze; And the bloseoms, white as snow!Fall from the dogwood trees.Letus look In each other’s eyes, And trust as we trusted then In those gorgeous, long Julys,Y | Belorc we were women and men.Letus talk of dreams fulfilled;B | (Child dreams are always fair,)Then help each other build Our castles in the air.We will tell of wonderous things,As children always do;Of enchanted wreaths and rings,And of times when lights burn blue.And when we’ve done the task, Before we go to rest.As we nsed to do, we’ll ask, “Which story of all was best?”I have no tale of grand Old times with kings and queess; No story of fairy land,Of giants or giant beans.’No hero of battle plain Snail dim your glistening eyes;No saint nor mar ty s, slain.Shall wake your pitying Blghs,No priestly fancy wild Of slaughter, and the flight Of the virgin and her child.Through all the shadowy night. Not of anguish and dispair On mount of pilgrims trod,When the earth shook, and the air S’ghed for a dying God.litpothlt;grhe tie tie all g r:FaTbtheitwtoufacbatolatabtoiBut my story is old as earth With her blooming hills and dells; A story of death and birth,And of merry wedding bells.And ’tie all so true aud sweet —I scarce can find a rhyme In which I dare repeat This story, old as time.No words can ere express—No song fling on the air The depth and tenderness Of mother’s love and c are.We know’Lis this enfolds All earth in its living bars; Through ages it broods and holds True as ihe golden stars.But the story is long; you’d grow So tired; I’ll only say A word for n mother we know, Who is sixty-eight to-day.Through so many bnsy years,Like so many trodden miles,Our griefs have received her tears.Our joys she has blessed with smiles.We have had unstinted praise, Censure, so kindly light,And toil has filled her days,. And watchings many a night;And time, like a thief has come;And grief with unsparing hand; And death, from the walls of home Bore to the unknown land,Her dear ones; yet, though bereft. She ne’er forgets to bless The circle about her left.With love and tenderness.This is part of the story long. Made up of smiles and tears; Or joy and grief and wrong.And hope through all the years.The temple* of gods decay,The swords of our warrior* rust; Their memory dies in a day,When they have returned to the dust;’T will he always so, but when This story no raptures give,*T will be that mothers of men Have ceased to suffer and live.tillCOllinthlt;miThtieCaedpeveinaatehilterhe:in*SOInoprlt;frcascoibetdei1thethntooeaain°poientanttur1 ylt; pre cle; vid It: soi for do: da’ the oftlicsheantoldthiicortyijflaccplathe8L8t!ofnerSt]pitcie
Newspaper Details
Rochester Republican
Rochester, Indiana, US
Thu, Jul 15, 1880
Page 3
Full Page
Clipped by
Jerry E.
USA 04 May 2019
Other Publications Near Rochester, Indiana
Rochester Mercury
Rochester Independent
Rochester Daily Republican
Rochester City Times
Rochester Indiana
