Ul£ UNlVi^ r , rv L/bh*/.i.iV' Jn fUemoriatn. Mvn. mntouvn M, ^nUtttlL Ci 77' 2? 3Jn Mttnovium, MRS. EDWARD A. ANKETEIvL. Her children arise up and call her blessed ; her hus band, also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. I^ov. JI : 28, 2g. E1.1ZABETH Rogers Plant, daughter of John and Angelina B. Plant, was born in Bran- ford, Conn., on the i8th of August, 1845. From childhood her disposition was singularly sweet and engaging, thoughts for the comfort of others being always first with her. Indeed it was said of her by one who knew her inti mately from her childhood that she was ' ' born a Christian." At the age of 17 she united with the Broad way Congregational church in Norwich, in which city she spent nearly four years attending school, afterwards completing her education at Grove Hall, New Haven, in 1865, where, at the house of a mutual friend, on the last evening of her school-life, the writer of this tribute made her acquaintance, an acquaintance which rapidly grew into an affedlion which even death does but strengthen ! On July 1 2th, 1871 she was married to Edward A. Anketell, in the Branford Congrega tional Church, by Rev. Elijah C. Baldwin, the pastor, assisted by Rev. Dr. George 1,. Walker, the pastor of the First Congregational Church, New Haven. Four children, three sons and a daughter, were born to her, three of whom survive her. The first-born son died in infancy. Attacked some years ago by an incurable malady, her fortitude in suffering was marvelous. Her physician used to say of her, ' ' She is a Spartan!" During the last weeks of her life, although very weak much of the time, she never failed to appear with the family some portion of the day, except two or three days during the last week, coming down on the elevator the evening of the day before her death ; as we now believe for the sake of the pleasure it would give us. She died peacefully, surrounded by all her immediate family and a dearly loved niece, on Sunday evening, November 2 2d, 1896, at about six o'clock. In the absence from the State of our pastor, Dr. Phillips, the funeral services were condudled by the Rev. Stuart Means, on Tuesday, Nov. 24th, at her late residence, No. 627 Orange street. A quartette sang ' ' Abide with me, ' ' and ' ' My times are in thy hand," the latter of which was an especial favorite of my wife's. Our pastor furnishes the following : I count it one of the great privileges of my life that I was permitted to know Mrs. Anke tell, and one of the sorrows of my ministry that I could not speak some words of affec tionate appreciation at her funeral. Her friend ship, her conversations, her example have been a constant inspiration to me ; for her's was one of those rare natures through which God makes spiritual things very real and beautiful to us. She had all those things which commonly make people supercilious and selfish : blood, culture, position, abundance ; but she was hum ble as a child, kindly, considerate of all. Her piety was not self-assertive or ostentatious, but deep, controlling, fragrant. She held herself to rigid rules of right and truth, but she was charitable of the failings of others : she knew what the struggle of life was, and sought occa sion to praise rather than blame, to help rather than to condemn. I think if you sought the interpretation of her life you would find it in these two questions: "How can I best honor the Christ ?" "How can I best help the age ?" These were the great words she taught us : loyalty, service. The personal ministry is in terrupted, but the ministry of her memory will never cease. The good we do is not buried with our bones, since God is God, and truth is truth : it must live and help the world after we depart. This sweet, strong, unselfish life is still a living force in the family, the church, the community. No wife ever loved her husband more tenderly : no niother ever yearned more fondly over her children. Day and night her prayers arose for them : her spirit will ever watch and woo them, until, one by one, they join her in "the Father's house." As her pastor I shall miss her bright, sympathetic face from the family pew, where her place was never vacant until sheer weakness imprisoned her at home : as her friend I shall miss the quiet talks in her home, and especially in her sick-room ; but the memory of those talks will be beauty and fragrance in my life. The shadows have lifted for her, she has found the place of light and song, and, "if we faint not," we shall find her in the summer-land. Watson L. Phillips. As an illustration of how she was esteemed I will introduce a brief extradl from a story founded on fadl, written some thirteen years ago, by one who knew her well, merely premising that the ' ' Dr. Robb ' ' therein referred to is the family physician before alluded to, and that ' ' Arthur's mother ' ' is the subjedf of this sketch. ' 'As Dr. Robb dashed gaily off, Arthur's mother came down quietly, as she always does whether her boys are ill or well, like a Sister of Charity, or a saint, or a sweet refined woman, which is much the same thing. She had a cup and spoon and a little slip of paper. 'O, Arthur,' she said, with her sweet, low voice and her pleasant smile, ' you are just in time to take this prescription for Eddie : you know where Clarke's is, on the corner. You can ride on your velocipede across the Green. Now go quickly.' " The folio-wing extradls from a memorial notice of her elder sister, who died at about the same age some seventeen years ago, are so appropriate to the subje<5t of this sketch that I venture to copy them. ' ' The face on which loving eyes looked so tearfully was peaceful with the very peace of God. It seemed as if even the wasted flesh had caught the refledlion of that glory into which the spirit had so surely entered. To those who had seen through all the months the soul's patience, its unmurmuring, submissive trust, it seemed most fitting that deatH should have left an impress like that of sleep. To their grateful thought it was almost as if the mortal had already put on immortality. They knew that for her the woe had passed, and that the release had come. The spirit seemed to say anew, ' Blessed are the dead who die in the lyord.' The closing of the beautiful, steadfast life on earth made not a few feel that their loss was per sonal and great. i]> t^ 5^ ^ ^^ Certainly the children of such a mother are still heirs of a priceless inheritance. The pain of bereavement is, for them, lighted up with glory that has been and that now is sealed with eternity's seal. They may think that though they have suddenly become bereft on earth they have become the more rich in heaven. For us all there remains the suggestion of a similar consolation. The community below will miss her : the community above has welcomed her ' to go no more out forever. ' ' ' The following is from the pen of a school-mate at Grove Hall : "As room-mates we were in perfedl accord. I do not remember that anything ever disturbed the harmony of our companionship. As I remember Lizzie in school she was always gentle and pleasant : more quiet than some : never a ring-leader, but always ready to join cordially in the plans of others, and heartily enjoying all the fun that the school-life afforded. She was kind and sympathetic in joy or sor row, and ready with a helping hand whenever it was wanted. I remember well on one occasion when she had been the vidlim of a pradlical joke how pleas antly she took it, and when, as the result of it, the perpetrators found themselves locked out of the house rather late in the evening, instead of retaliating upon them, as she might have done by turning a deaf ear to the appeals made under her window, she lighted her candle and went quietly down two flights of stairs and through a long, dark passage, and unlocked a door in the rear of the house, so that the teachers need not know of their prank. There were some girls in the school who were born torments ; but I never heard her speak unkindly of them, though many times she was annoyed by their adlions. However much she might have been disturbed inwardly, there was no outward manifestation. She was invariably serene and pleasant." The following brief extradls from letters received after her death will show some of her characteristics which were most marked. One friend who had known her for many years writes : "We who have known your dear wife so long know her perfeEl charadler : know best the weight of your sorrow. We feel the desola tion in the home where everything bears the im press of her lovely, loving nature, and how your heart will be wrung at the sight of everything her touch has sandfified. May a loving Father give you strength sufficient to your day. In my long life I have known no one else of whom I could truly say that she was a faultless wife and mother. You have her beautiful memory in the years to come." A neighbor writes : " Mrs. Anketell has seemed very near to me, and has been very sweet and tender to me, and her going out of this life is a terrible grief and loss to me. I cannot help but speak of the wonderful heroism of her life as I have seen it almost daily since last Christmas : such weakness of body and constant suffering, and such unselfishness in hiding it from her family to the very end. ' ' Another friend, who during the last five weeks of our loved one's life was like a ministering angel to her, says : ' ' I feel that my loss is a life-long sorrow ! Did I in any way contribute at all to her pleas ure, or minister to her in her hours of beautiful, 13 patient suffering, I am more than grateful. It was as nothing to what my love would have prompted could there have been any relief. ' ' A very dear friend of happy memories in former years in the mountains says : ' ' I wish to assure you, my dear friend, of my heartfelt sympathy in your great bereavement, feeling that I can indeed deeply sympathize with you, knowing somewhat how great is your loss in her inestimable worth, and having myself experienced a kindred bereavement. Our happy summer days among the Catskills have never been forgotten, and the sweet mem ory of our associations has been sacredly cher ished through the years. It has been a joy to me that as families we ever met, and I had hoped that we all might meet again. How sad the changes of the years ! Surely our Christian faith is our only cheer and consolation. I assufe you it was with most sorrowful inter est that I read the marked article, thinking of you and the children ; but I finished the perusal thinking that her beautiful and useful life still goes on, and that she still lives as truly on earth as in heaven ; for ' to live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.' " As illustrating her kindness and also her tadl in her relations with the employed I will men tion the fadl that in more than twenty-four years of housekeeping no servant was ever discharged by her for cause, nor did one ever leave in anger, but some left to get married, and one, alas ! to die. One, our faithful Ella, has been a member of our household for upwards of twenty years. In this connedfion I cannot refrain from giving entire a note written by our gardener. ' ' Dear sir : I am very sorry for the death of Mrs. Anketell. It has been my lot in life ever since I was twenty years of age to work for good and prom inent people, and I must willingly say that Mrs. Anketell was the most perfedl lady whom I ever worked for or had occasion to speak to. She was good : in fadl, she was superlative. I can not find words good enough for the respedl I had for her ; and I hope and I have reason to 15 believe that God in his justice has taken her to the Kingdom of Heaven. May God bless you, Mr. Anketell, and the children. Yours with sorrow and sympathy." At the last meeting of the Mary Clap Wooster Chapter, D. A. R., it was Resolved, That the Chapter oflfer their warm sympathy to the family of Mrs. Anketell. Her death is a public as well as a private loss. She was an earnest and aftive member of the society, and had shown a true enthusiasm for its largest and best interests. She was also most zealous in her conscientious attention to those details of committee work which tend so largely to the success of an organization. Her help will be greatly missed, and her absence deeply felt. Resolved, That a copy of the short memorial of Mrs. Anketell, read at the meeting, be sent with the previous resolution. ELIZABETH F. JBNKINS, Cor. Sec. New Haven, December i6th. Mrs. Elizabeth Plant Anketell (whose loss has come to us since our chapter assembled) was, so far as her zeal and interest in this society con- i6 cerns us, so valued a member that it has seemed to me a little sketch of her work among us would not be inappropriate at this time. Mrs. Anketell was so modest and retiring that few among us were privileged to know her true worth. When our Chapter was first organized she was among the first members who came forward to enroll her name, and from the time she received her papers of acceptance to almost the hour of death she worked for and kept her interest in its aims. At the time of the first State Conference, held in New Haven, Mary Clap Wooster Chapter entertaining, she was ap pointed colledlor of funds from those who did not care to contribute otherwise, and as business manager of the Refreshment Committee to assist Mrs. Sperry. So well did she perform this duty that when all bills were paid no tax had been made on our Chapter treasury, and a small surplus was turned over to it. Most of you remember the liberal and rare exhibit she made at our Relic meeting in May, 1895. Many of the articles she loaned at that time were searched 17 out from their musty hiding places in unused chests and big old country attics, and brought over at the expense of much time and trouble from her ancestral home in Branford. Among the most interesting and rare were the old flint lock musket, the beautiful powder-horn, and the saddle-bags and holsters used all through the Revolutionary War by one of her ancestors. Then, too, did she from her own personal store of Revolutionary treasures loan all the gowns in which our six young lady waitresses were so quaintly and so fittingly attired, and also the two little maidens' garb, of a similar period. She also loaned family portraits and old silver of no mean value, and china much ante-dating the revolutionary period. It was through her kindness that a lady at that time made for your Regent the delicious and genuine ' ' eledlion cake ' ' which was so en joyed that not a crumb remained after the feast. She was, for one season, appointed chairman of the programme committee. How ably she filled that arduous position you all recolledl too well to need reminder. And when by reason of illness she was for a time compelled to retire and leave the work with one of her valued assistants on that committee, her only care was that she might be over-burdening another ! You all remember how energetic she was in selling tickets for the Rev. Mr. Gessner's lec ture on Concord, disposing of sixty herself to my knowledge : when I, knowing her extreme delicacy, asked her if she was not very weary, she said in her gentle way, " No, but a little disappointed as to the interest there seems to be, and a little fearful for the amount it may bring our treasury. ' ' You see how much we owe her in that undertaking. Then, late as the June meeting at Wood- bridge, to her and her assistants belongs the credit, in great measure, of the success of that ' ' Outing, ' ' which you all have so graciously but I fear, incorredlly, attributed to the hostess of the day. Ha-ving made all the preliminary arrangements, she brought in her own carriage some of the " substantials " of the feast, and 19 took all care of the entertainment in her own hands, that your hostess might be free to attend to her official duties. This too, when health and strength were fast failing. This was her last official work for us, but her interest never flagged. When I in a recent brief visit, as concisely as possible, lest I should weary her, told about the presentation of the "gavel-block" from Dan- bury, and the incidents of the meeting, she was greatly pleased to hear all, and regretted her inability to be among us on that occasion. It was the old New England resolution and ' ' grit ' ' that sustained and helped her to bear, with heroic fortitude, suffering equal to any that battle-field or army hospital could reproduce. Uncomplainingly, unfalteringly she kept at her post till the "Captain of the Innumerable Hosts ' ' bade her halt, and the fight was ended. With her domestic life and the great beauty and strength of her personal charadler this Chapter has naught to do. One incident of her sweet unselfish thought for others I would like to mention in closing. I^ast summer, when, in the heated term, most of us were away from the city seeking change of air and cooler skies, did this dear. Christian woman rise early and pick her beautiful roses and other flowers with the dew yet upon them, and after breakfasting take them in her carriage down to the shops of our city. There she distributed them, dozens at a time, among the young women who, as clerks, passed the hot, tiresome days behind counters, with never a glimpse of green and freshness to rest their eyes upon. Can we wonder that the advent of this " Good Samaritan ' ' was eagerly looked for, and that she always left them with hearty thanks upon their lips, and the sweet fragrance of her kindly deed, literally, in their hands. And now she has passed from our midst, but ' ' her works do follow her. ' ' I