Died.

Mounce - In Tammany, August 9, 1888, of consumption, Mrs. Callie J. Mounce, wife of Eben Mounce, aged 32 years, 7 months and 23 days.

Lewiston Teller
Lewiston, Idaho, August 16, 1888

Obituary.

Mounce. - The subject of this sketch, Mrs. Callie J. Mounce, whose maiden name was Rose, was born Jan. 14, 1856. She married to Eben Mounce Nov. 25, 1883, and left the home of her parents in Iowa and came to Idaho Territory, where they had since resided. After a lingering illness of more than a year with consumption, she died Aug. 9, 1888, leaving her husband and one child - a bright little girl nearly four years old - to mourn her loss. She was 32 years, 7 months and 23 days old at the time of her death. Funeral services were conducted by the writer at the residence of Mr. Isaac Mounce in Tammany Hollow on the tenth inst., after which her remains were taken to the Lewiston cemetery for interment; near the cemetery the procession was joined with the Knights of Pythias (of which Mr. Mounce was a member), who gave evidence of their sympathy and respect for their grief stricken brother, including a beautifully appropriated song, then the body was consigned to its resting place, to await the resurrection day.

Sister Mounce was a member of the Church of Christ, having confessed her faith in the Savior several years before leaving Iowa, and, although she would not yield to admit that she must die, until within a few hours before her death, she frequently expressed her hope of everlasting life, saying that she feared not to die, and, like one of old, prayed for the Lord to receive her spirit; shortly before she expired she took her little girl by the hand and said to her that she would "soon be with her little Erwin," (who died fifteen days before, and was one year and six days old) "and where the angels are singing in heaven." "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord."

"There is no death! The stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore:
And bright in Heaven's jewelled crown
They shine forevermore.

"There is no death! An angel form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread;
He Bears our best loved things away,
And then we call them "dead."

"He leaves our hearts all desolate,
He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers;
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.

"The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones
Made glad these scenes of sin and strife,
Sing now an everlasting song
Around the tree of life."