Contributed by Gigimo
Description: Mary Pownall.Date: September 2 1915
Newspaper published in: Houston, MO
Again the Grim Messenger has visited our community and another of our neighbors has launched her frail back for the voyage on that ocean whose waters touch the other shore. Her life's work here is ended, but the other life upon which she has entered will be as enduring as immortality itself.
Mary Pownall, the daughter of Thomas Young and Jane McLaughlin Young, was born in Wright county, Missouri, May 29, 1915, after an illness lasting only eight days. She was first married to John W. Rook, and to this union were born six children, five of whom survive their mother: Mrs. Nola Rainey, Mrs. May Carr, Everett Archie and James Rook. Another son, Arley Rook, died and after a few years of widowhood she was married to Charles A. Pownall, who is left to mourn the loss of a faithful companion. She was a member of the Christian and of the Rebekah lodge at Plato. To her church she was a faithful attendant at all of its services; to her lodge she was a devoted attendant, always performing any duty that was assigned her to do. She will be sadly missed at all the meetings.
Time in its ever flowing stream, bears our friends away, one by one. How soon the ferryman shall call for us we know not. We know that we should not mourn for those who now dwell in that Heavenly Home, yet the severance of earthly ties brings a grief which cannot well be restrained. O, the longing for the touch of the vanished hand, and the sound of a voice that is stilled. To the companion and the children and grandchildren whose hearts are so saddened through this separation, we as neighbors and friends give our sympathy, deep and sincere, and while we bow in submission to the will of an Allwise Father, we will try to emulate the virtues of our departed friend and commend the dear ones left behind who mourn their loss to Him who doeth all things well, ever remembering that ere long, we too, will be numbered with those who have taken passage with the silent ferryman for that shore from whence no one returns.