Roxana Howe Waller was my three times great grandmother. Roxana was the daughter of Seth Howe and Achsa Washburn. She was born in Pennsylvania in 1802 and came to Elba, New York with her parents. In Elba, she married Orrin Waller, and bore at least seven children, one of whom was our Martha Cordelia Waller Taylor. Roxana died on Christmas day, 1858--at age 56 years.
We
do not know much of Roxana, but luckily, her daughter Cordelia wrote in yearly
journals and did other writings, such as poems and articles. From her, we learn
a bit more about Roxana. When her mother died, Cordelia wrote:
Dec. 29th. My best of mother’s was yesterday consigned to her last resting-place, the cold—damp silent tomb. Oh! my Heavenly Father, sustain & support us through this trying hour of deepest affliction. We are sustained in view of her happy departure from this world of sin and sorrow,& the hope of again being reunited in a better world. Oh! my God, how can I bear up under this terrible blow. It is indeed, the greatest grief of my life. Nought is able to sustain me, but the all-sustaining grace of God.
Roxana's Gravestone
But oh! my dear, dear Mother, how dearly I loved her, how dearly we all loved
her, & oh! it is so hard to part with her. That holy Christmas day was her
last upon earth. Sweetly did she fall asleep in Jesus & was borne by angels
to that blessed land where the inhabitants say not, I am sick. Oh! our hearts
are all bleeding & torn, but we are comforted when we reflect upon the
sweet expressions & passages of Scripture full of happiness & trust in
her “blessed Savior” that fell from her lips in her dying moments.
And
a later poem echoed the pain and loss of her mother:
My Mother’s Bible, By Martha Cordelia Waller Taylor
This
book is all that’s left me now,
Tears will unbidden start.
With
faltering lip and throbbing brow,
I press it to my heart.
For
many generations past,
Here is our family tree.
My
mother’s hand this Bible clasped
She, dying, gave it me.
Ah!
Well do I remember those,
Whose names these records bear,
Who,
round the hearth stove used to close,
After the evening prayer.
And
speak of what these pages said,
In tones my heart would thrill.
Though
they are with the silent dead,
Here they are living still.
My
father read this holy book
To brothers and sisters dear!
How
calm was my poor mother’s look
Who leaned God’s word to hear
Her
angel face I see it yet,
What thrilling memories come,
Again
that little group is met,
Within the walls of home.
Thou
truest friend man ever knew
Thy constancy I’ve tried
When
all were false, I found thee true
My counselor and guide.
The
mines of earth no treasure give,
That could this volume buy,
In
teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.
How
I wish we had that Bible with its
‘For many generations past, Here is our family tree.’
Roxana---Thank
you for being my great great great grandmother! And, Cordelia, thank you for
writing about your mother so that we can feel a bit of Roxana’s spirit.
2 comments:
Wow, quite a feat to write an article with a grandmother who's been gone for over 100 years! I'm impressed!
I love how the letters and diaries we have give us insights into the people who came before us. How I wish so much hadn't been lost! But I am grateful for what we do have.
Thanks, Pat!
We are so fortunate to have all these journals to read of days long past! Sometimes, one can see a tiny portion of one self in ant act. Then you know that your early relatives are "helping " you along your path! helps to understand them better! Thanks, Pat for ALL your work on this blog!!
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