Stilesboro Dots.

THOS. W. BRANDON, our Patriarch, “is an Israelite, indeed, in whom there is no guile;” living amid all the plenty, peace and quiet of his well regulated farm.  His sons and elder daughters being settled off, and all, with steady habits, doing well; his younger daughters and grand-daughters are like olive plants around his table and fireside, shedding sweet fragrance upon his declining years.  This pillar of the Methodist church at Brandon’s Chapel, seldom lets his seat, near the pulpit, be vacant, when in his power to fill.

“A few more rolling years, at most,
Will land him home on Canaan’s coast.”

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June 3, 1874
Page 3

THOS. W. BRANDON, one of our most exemplary citizens, seems to be quite on the verge of the grave.  Uncle Tommy, as he is familiarly known, is our stand by, model pattern of uprightness.  Some slow wasting disease, scarcely recognizable by physicians, is bearing him away, “as dies the wave along the shore.”  In the 71st year of his age, he realizes that full assurance,

“Even down to old age all my people shall prove
My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love.”

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June 17, 1874
Page 3

THOMAS BRANDON died at his residence on the Etowah river in this county, on Thursday evening last, 6 o’clock, in the 73rd year of his age, after a long and painful illness, which, for many months, he bore with signal fortitude.  Mr. Brandon was born in Virginia, grew up in Gwinnett county, Georgia, and removed to this county in the year 1835.  He is one of the first settlers in the 17th, at the time of his becoming a resident there being only ten voters in the district; so that for nearly forty years the most active and useful portion of his life has been spent in this county.  No man ever resided in a community more respected and beloved by all who knew him than the subject of this notice.  In the strongest sense he was the best of citizens; and the place which he filled in the Church and society, so peculiarly his own, can never be filled.  At the early age of 16 he made a profession of religion and joined the Methodist Church, of which, from that day to the day of his death, he was not only one of the most consistent and godly members, but the man of all men to whom she is indebted for her prosperity in the region where he lived.  He stood by her in her smallest beginning, and lived to see her strong and flourishing; and by his irreproachable life, warm heart, and constant devotion and Christian zeal, illustrated the power of the religion which he professed.  Happy always, his was a religion which shone out in everyday life, mellow, full and ripe, and best of all, comforted, consoled and caused him to triumph over the last enemy.  His whole-souled hospitality, --his honest, upright, manly yet humble Christian life, read and known of all men, --his true, undeviating friendship, --his zeal for all that was good, and most for God, --not only endeared him to the community of Christians, among whom he cast his lot, but made him what he was—honored and beloved beyond what falls to the lot of most men.  His large and respectable family connection, the district in which he lived, his immediate neighbors, the weary traveling preacher, the whole brotherhood of Christian denominations, but most of all, the church to which he belonged, Brandon’s Chapel, which bore his honest name, will all miss him –miss him sorely—his quiet, unostentatious yet eloquent life, his fervent prayers and his unbounding zeal.

The day after his death, Rev. L. J. Davies preached his funeral sermon before an unusually large and deeply interested congregation, for all had come to pay a last tribute of affection to one whom all had loved in life.  Well might one say, in contemplating his life and its closing hours, “let me die the death of the righteous, and may my last end be like his.”