The reaper, Death, has been in our midst once more.  He had gathered the grain for his sheaf before he reached us and all that remained now for him to do, was to pluck a beautiful flower to bind up in the sheaf, that his work might be more pleasing in the sight of the Master.

Jessie McCracken Smitherman, daughter of Edgar and Lou McCracken, was born October 7, 1880.

One short week after this tiny babe was born, the dear mother was called to her rest leaving this little blossom to battle in life without a mother's care, but the patient grandparents of this blue eyed babe, Jessie Louise, took her to their hearts and loved her as their own and through all of her sickness, not one moment have they neglected one thing for Jessie's comfort. May blessings rest on them in their great affliction.  Also the devoted husband, he will miss Jessie more than all.  

Jessie died March 20, 1906.  But a few weeks ago she was with her friends and though she was in delicate health then, none of them were prepared for the sorrow of witnessing her demise after a few days of intense suffering.  Why she should have been called from earth in her early life, is one of the mysteries solved only by Christ's love for mankind.

Her many friends feel that the brightest gem in friendship's crown is gone and though their grief draws them nearer to one another there is a broken chord that will never again be united.

Jessie Louise McCracken and Kerley Smitherman were united in marriage October 24, 1901.  One little babe was given them and then was called by the Master and little Ralph is joined today by his mamma.

When Jessie was fifteen years old she was converted and united with the Friends Church. Although she said nothing about death, she had previous to her sickness made the statement that life was dear to her and she wanted to live, but death had no terrors and she was ready for the summons, and even in the last struggle as she was approaching the dark valley, she verified these statements by passing away as though she was entering on pleasant dreams.

Gone where no mortal can return
And left us here behind to mourn.
As roses wither and decay
Dear Jessie from us faded away.
Til at last her spirit fled
and what remains is cold and dead