“Affairs in the City.”

The recent death of Miss Berta Hazlewood has cast a gloom over quite a circle of young friends with whom she is a favorite.

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November 28, 1895, Page 6:

In Memoriam.

Miss Berta P. Hazlewood, of Town Creek, Ala., after a lingering illness of four months with typhoid fever, departed this life at her father’s home, on the morning of the 17 th of November, 1895. No sweeter spirit ever left earth for heaven, than was embodied in the form of this beautiful girl. God called her home on a bright Sabbath morning—a day of love and peace, emblematic of her own gentle character. Heaven is brighter today; the ties binding us to earth have grown weaker. A desire for something better than earth can bestow, steals into our souls, as we long for her presence. In August, 1892, this lovely girl came from her Alabama home to complete her education in West End Institute. It was my privilege to be associated with her in the tender relation of teacher and pupil, where all the pleasure that gentle obedience and respect could bring me, was mine; in my home, almost the fond tie of mother and daughter existed between us, her confidence and love I possessed in an unlimited degree. She came to the school, a shrinking, timid stranger, she left in 1894, when she graduated, enshrined in the hearts of classmates and friends. Kind, gentle and loving in her nature, she scattered sunshine in her way. My home was brightened by her coming, upon leaving it, a void was made which can never be filled. Leaving us, we looked fondly for her return in 1895, for a promised reunion with her classmates, she came, and for a brief time gladdened our hearts. Bidding us adieu, we little thought that we should see her no more, until we should meet her above the skies.

Mysterious are the dispensations of providence, and it is only thro’ faith that we become reconciled to these sad bereavements. Beyond the dark clouds, we shall meet thee again, dear Berta—where the angels are, and where sad partings can come no more. God Keep thee in his bosom, dear one till we come!! [A poem follows—signed, Mrs. J. W. Harris, Sr.]