MILLER, Eva Dora

Fort Collins Courier (Fort Collins, Larimer CO) May 17, 1891 Death of Eva Miller Precisely at 10 a.m., Sunday, May 17, Eva D., only child of Dr. and Mrs. C. P. Miller, closed her eyes in death and her sweet, precious spirit, poising a moment in its flight, as if to take a last lingering, loving farewell of papa, mamma, grandma and teacher, winged its way to the bosom of that blessed Savior who cannot forge his love while upon earth for little children. The little hands were folded above an innocent heart, the little limbs were composed and the little lifeless morsel of clay was made read for the grave. Fluttering carpe at the door on that bright, beautiful Sabbath morning confirmed the fears of church-foers and passers-by and told plainer than words of the sorrowful transformation that had taken place that erstwhile happy, but now desolate home. Strong, proud men bowed their heads and wept when they saw it, and every pulse throbbed with grief for the bereaved, heartbroken parents. “Babe” Miller, the only child and idolized darling of the household, a favorite with all who knew her and the pride of her teachers and schoolmates, had at last answered the summons and bidden the world a last farewell. Death is an unwelcome guest at any time. It is sad to bid a final farewell even to those who have lived long years, who have completed their life work, who have finished their race, whose lives are full of achievements, full of attainments and who are ripe for the reaper, death, but how much more sad, how much grater the affliction, how much deep er the sorrow when it comes to one in the spring time of life, when the bud is just opening with promise of the loveliest bloom--to one like sweet little Eva. In the inheritance she has left us there are only sweet memories of winsome, living, clinging childhood. If it be that in the future, beyond tht mysterious river that divides this world and the next-between the living and the dead--departed friends have the power to look back upon those they left on this side, Eva will look down upon us and she will not see a single heart that does not beat with sorrow and keen regret because she has left us. She had scarcely caught a glimpse of the garlands of youth, ere she was summoned to fathom the mysteries of the Great Beyond. Today Eva is wiser than any of use, wiser than all the wisdom of this earth-she has penetrated the secrets of eternity, the secrets of our very existence. No mortal hand can raise the veil and show us the eternity to which she has gone. Yet, we do believe that beyond that darkening flood, there lies a grander, a fairer, a better land than this. We do believe that Eva, blest, light-hearted and free, is coursing the streets of Paradise, amid the fragrance and perfumes of never-dying flowers in the realms of bliss. Farewell, Eva. We miss you, oh, how much no tongue hath words to tell. Eva became ill with diphtheria, on the afternoon of Friday, the 8th inst., and despite the efforts of the combined skill of local physicians, aided by the counsel of the leading Denver doctors, and despite the best of nursing and care, she gradually grew worse, and soon it became apparent that it was beyond the power of human skill to save her. Though a child in years she was a patient sufferer and only when told by her papa that she could not live did a murmur escape her lips; “I do not want to leave my papa and mamma,” she said. Then brightening, as of the light of the Savior’s countenance had suddenly flashed upon her, she asked if she would go straight to Jesus when she died, and seemed contented with the reply. She was a most lovable child, thoughtful of others, kind and true and affectionate to a degree. She seemed a veritable well-spring of hope, light and joy. One day, while suffering the most, her mamma brought to her bed a cluster of heliotrope in bloom, of which she was very fond. She expressed her thankfulness and then asked if she could not send the flowers to her teacher, who she greatly loved and showed plainly the pleasure which the granting of the request gave her. Eva was devotedly attached to her papa and mamma and she loved her teachers, her school and schoolmates and all her friends ,large and small and was beloved by them. Had she lived until the 10th of next June, she would have been ten years old. The interment of her remains took place Sabbath afternoon, at 4 o’clock, the rites being hurried forward on account of the nature of her disease and the danger to others by delay. Notwithstanding there were no public services, a very large concourse of friends followed the remains of the dear little girl to their last resting place in Grandview cemetery.