DITTENHAVER In Napoleon. Wednesday, March 15, 1893, Mrs. Elisabeth Dittenhaver died from congestion of the lungs. Funeral services were held from the late residence on Haly Avenue, Friday, March 17, Rev. M. L. Donahey in charge. Remains interred in Glenwood cemetery by the side of her husband, George Dittenhaver, who preceded her to Eternity ten years before. Mrs. Dittenhaver was born at Dresden, Ohio, July 14, 1815. making her 77 years, 8 months and 1 day old at the time of her death. She was married in 1882 to George Dittenhaver, the result of this union being 11 children, 10 of whom survive her. The family came to Henry countvy in 1861 and the war breaking out shortly after, the husband and father, although beyond the age required for service, left home at a nation's call and served through the 4 years of strife, leaving the mother in charge of the family. The greater portion of the deceased's life was one of care and consideration for others, which seemed to increase rather than lessen with years. Thus at an old age we see her an invalid of long standing, the result of voluntary assumption of other's burdens. Particularly were the last few months of Mrs. Dittenhaver's illness of the greatest suffering, the grief to those left behind at her death just as the long bleak winter has passed and the advent of Spring and hope is noted, is unutterable. Friends she had many who sadly comply with the injunction "Come away: for Life and Thought Here no longer dwell; But in a City Glorious A great and distant city have bought ' A mansion incorruptible.' Would they could have stayed with us." Yes, would this life could have stayed with us at least until beloved children could once more have gathered around a mother whose constant thought was with them! Some were here to palliate her suffering while others were thousands of mile distant, one of whom it was not known if he were, or had been for years among the living. When the patient mother is taken away and we know that never more on this earth shall we meet her loving glance, or hear her voice always lifted in our welfare, the heart will yearn and its utterances will be, O, for a touch of the vanished hand and the sound of a voice that is still. All through the slow, sad hours of her last illness, although her pain was intense, no murmur of complaint passed her lips. Instead, she manifested, to the last, solicitude for those caring for her, often requesting them to take needed rest. The aching heart and tired limbs have at last found respite from all earthly ills. She was taken at the sunset of life, and the dear hands, with each a loving heart to direct them, and which were never happier than when doing deeds of kinds, have ceased their labors, and she has found rest in the arms of the Redeemer whom she always clung to with the assurance that he was near. At the very last her countenance betokened perfect Joy, and with a bright and loving glance upon her children, and a smile whose sweetness was born of communion with saints and in sight of home beyond the dark river, she passed into eternity to meet those who had gone before and wait for loving ones left behind.