Died at her home Tuesday, Jan. 27, of peritonitis, Mrs. Jennie Powell Maurer, in her 24th year.

Seldom, if ever, have the populace of Farnam been called upon to attend a funeral where such sorrow had reached its height. A dark gloom spread over this community when it was gently whispered from one to another "Jennie is gone."

December 20, 1905 she was married to Oscar Maurer, whom she leaves with an infant girl, besides, a father, mother, two sisters and a brother to mourn her loss.

Mrs. Maurer's sickness was of short duration, seemingly with us today, active in life's round of duty and love, but gone tomorrow. Here she played as a child, here she developed into beautiful girlhood, here she married and helped to establish a home of her own, here her busy life was spent, her faithful services rendered to the world. In this dearest of all places to her, she lies down to sleep and rest where sleep so many of her life long friends.

To her struggles and burden bearing of life are ended, we confidently trust that like one awaking from a troubled dream, she has awakened to see life's endless morning break and know herself at home with all the vast throng of loved ones, missed from earth, about her.

Everything that medical aid and tender nursing could do, proved fruitless.

The floral offerings surpassed in beauty and profusion anything seen here before. The "broken wheel," the wreath, the lilies and roses, gifts from her friends, were but slight tokens of the love and respect she deserved, of all might be said: "These flowers so typical of the life of her we mourn mutely speak the pathos of word, and are placed upon this casket by friends who loved the sweet sleeper. On these petals are tears for the parting, and hopes for the meeting beyond the gates."

Rev. A. E. Riney conducted the services at the Baptist church Wednesday afternoon Jan. 28, and the sweet, solemn music of the choir touched every heart.

After the services all were permitted to look for the last time upon the face of the departed, then the sad cortege moved on to our silent city, where she now awaits the coming of resurrection morn. Nothing on earth has changed, only a loving wife and mother gone.

The Farnam Echo, Vol. 6, No. 9, Saturday, Jan. 30, 1909