  Rosa M. Jones 18 December 1873 - 5 July 1898 The Sunday Gazetteer Sunday, July 10, 1898 pg. 4 ROSE MYRTLE JONES DEAD Miss Rose Myrtle Jones, daughter of Dr. J.L. Jones, died Tuesday afternoon at the old homestead east of the city four miles. No death ever fell with such poignant grief or affected the community more deeply. This is the third child, one son and two daughters, that now sleep side by side at the old family burying ground near the homestead. Miss Jones was sick less than a week. Her case was considered hopeful until Sunday, when the most alarming symptoms were developed, and she steadily grew worse until Monday, when death gave her a blessed relief. The most eminent medical skill availed nothing. All that human aid could render was powerless to avert the saddest event in the history of the human family. Rose Myrtle; what a pretty name; it breathes the fragrance of flowers, and was in keeping with the spotless and beautiful character of one, who now sleeps among the the roses and the myrtles. Rose Myrtle Jones was at the time of her death in her 25th year. With the exception of her recent school days her whole life was passed in this vicinity and city. At an early age Miss Jones developed a taste for music. Her father, who was wrapped up in his child, gaver her the advantages of the very best instructions in Texas. She was educated and graduated with distinguished honors at the St. Xaviers Academy. To round out her musical education in 1895, she was placed in the Nashville Conservatory of Music under the finest instructor in the South, August Schemmel. She was a competitor for the prize offered for the best march for the Tennessee centennial with 300 others, and although not successful in the contest Miss Jones received favorable mention and was placed second ono the list. She has since published a number of pieces. One was dedicated to the empress of Germany, who, upon receipt of a copy, returned a very complimentary letter to the fair Texas composer. The Dallas News complimented her with the notice that she gave promise of taking rank with the foremost composer of the south, if not of America. She was a young woman of prodigious energy. Although the purse strings of a well to do father were always open to her, and who was happy to gratify her every wish, she proposed like a young woman of spirit to carve out her own destiny. With this laudable ambition in view, she has for the past year or more given music lessons, her patrons embracing a number of the leading families of this city and the surrounding country. She was devoted to her profession; her heart was in her work. Rose Myrtle Jones was not only a musician by instinct, but she possessed that rare faculty of elucidating her knowledge in musical composition which has delighted so many thousands. Many a noble virtuoso has honored her musical composition in public. Her public career was growing when death came and snapped the brittle thread of life. Why should the fates be so pittiless and unspairing, that is what a heart-broken father is asking to-day. It has become almost trite to wonder at the mysterious providence of this character and yet each recurring instance of the kind startles and shocks us. The fact is so incongruous with our ideas of what would be our ordering under the circumstances that we cannot but receive the blow and wonder and murmur in our helplessness, "Thy will be done!" City and country turned out to pay the last respects to the memory of one whom they had loved so much in life. The life which closed with the death of Rose Myrtle Jones grows no less beautiful and admirable as we realize that she has gone. She has left imperishable momentoes through which she will live wherever human hearts beat to genuine emotion. The thousand flowers that crowned her grave will fade, but the memory of the good never fade, never die. The closing scenes, the last tribute to the departed one, took place Wednesday afternoon at the home of Dr. J.L. Jones, four miles east of the city. It was a spontaneous outpouring of hundreds of city and country friends. The funeral cortege, in single file, was over two miles in length. At least 200 vehicles went from this city carrying one, two, three and four people. The country people among whom the deceased had passed the happiest moments of her childhood days were present in large numbers. The funeral services were conducted by the Rev. A.F. Bishop, pastor of the Presbyterian church. Rev. Father Crowley was also present and offered words of condolence. The most affecting scene was at the old burial ground. Few dead have been so admired, so mourned. On a gentle declivity leaning to the kiss of the southern suns, a sheltered sequested spot, fit place for rest, after life's "fitful fever" lies the Lankford burial ground. In their retired spot reverent hands laid all that remained of Rose Myrtle Jones. It was Mirabeau, the great French orator, who said, "cove me with flowers after I am dead;" and it was done of this grave. Such an offering of flowers was never seen. If the grave had been left open to receive them they would have more than filled it. There were beautiful fragrant roses, garlands and wreaths of flowers. If roses are the tear drops of the angels as the beautiful Arab belief puts forth in poetry, then is this lonely mound a hallowed spot, and needs not the sculptured stone, the fretted column and the obleisk. Above the narrow, dreamless abode of the great heart now pulseless, the leaves shimmer in soft light, the fragrance of flowers lingers above the turf lovingly, and the sweet July stars distill their dews to keep the grasses green.  Lankford Cemetery Susan Hawkins © 2024 If you find any of Grayson County TXGenWeb links inoperable, please send me a message. |