OBITUARY. Died, June 16th, 1886, Cora Estella, only daughter of Alfred and Florence Brubaker, aged 2 years, 6 months and 27 days. Her death was one of the most peculiar distressful occurrences ever coming under our knowledge. A party had gathered at John Brubaker's, the grandparents of the child, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of their wedding day, the golden wedding. Oh day of anticipated pleasure, of bright dawning of uninterrupted enjoyment and happiness, to have such terrible, such sorrowful ending. Late In the afternoon the little girl having fallen asleep was lain upon a bed, upon the same pillow where previously three other children had lain daring the afternoon and supposed to be in perfect safety, and a mother's loving care kept watchful guard over her peaceful slumber, looking upon her occasionally while asleep, as did also a young girl residing in the family, having seen her but a short time before she was found in death. About 5 o'clock the mother upon again going to see if she had awakened was horrified to find her hanging over the foot board of the bed; it was one of the old style of bedsteads with foot board and roller, with about a space of inches between, and it is supposed that rolling about in her sleep she slipped through the space, her head catching across the board, the weight of her body hanging down strangled her and thus from the sleep of Life she passed into the sleep of death. In the twinkling of an eye, where unalloyed happiness, festivity and mirth had reigned the scene was changed to wailing and sorrow, the deepest, bitterest the heart can know. Only those who have passed through the dark waves of woe can realize what the blow to the stricken parents. Great and unceasing efforts for more than an hour were made for resuscitation but all proved unavailing. Oh the despair when forced to abandon all hope, to realize that it was indeed too late. The scene was one to be indelibly impressed on the minds of all who witnessed it. And human heart finds it hard to submit unmurmuringly to such heavy chastening, and feel "He doeth all things well." Oh, Coral bright and fair as the pure white lilies clasped in thy folded hands, as the sweet white roses on thy pillow strewn, thy little life has been. Lilies fair and roses sweet, thyself the fairest, sweetest flower of all. How our hearts with sorrow ache as we realize that to us in this earthly life are forever closed the laughing eyes, hushed the prattling tongue, motionless the dimpled hands, and stilled the tripping feet. Yet the sweet comfort is ours; she has gained a home with him who said: "Suffer little children, to come unto me and forbid them not," that our darling forms one of the white robed angel band about the Savior's Throne. Help us to bow submissive to the Fathers will in transplanting this lovely bud from Love's enfolding arms to Eden's blooming bowers. A warning this sad and terrible that in the midst of life, yea in the very fullness of Joy, Death is there and that it behooves us each and every one to make preparation that when and where the shaft may fall, it finds us ready. She was a particularly winsome child, unusually precocious for one of her years. Funeral services at the M. B. Church, Thursday afternoon. A most feeling and impressive discourse by Rov. C. S. Barron, 1st Samuel, 3rd chapter, last clause of 18th verse. "It is the Lord: let him do what seems to him good." The remains were followed to the cemetery by a very large concourse of relatives and sympathizing friends. Interment in Brey's cemetery.