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An Introduction Cyrus
Allison Jr. (1840-1845) was the fourth child of the itinerant preacher, Rev.
Cyrus Allison and his wife, Eve Hoover. Their
eldest daughter, Phebe Jane Allison, born in 1831, was 14 when her younger
brother died. Phebe Jane wrote the following obituary for insertion in the
Christian Guardian. Sadly,
Phebe Jane died the following year at the age of 15. Phebe
Jane’s story can be found in the December 2024 Newsletter. |
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Although it is not customary to notice particularly the deaths of
young children, or those who die in childhood; yet as there are several
circumstances relating to my little brothers’ death, which may be interesting
to his relatives (and perhaps to some other) I send you a few items which I
leave at your disposal. The subject of the following sketch was the second
son of my now afflicted parents, the Rev. C.R. and Mrs. C. Allison. He was born at Consecon, March 16th, 1840 and departed this
life, November 6th, 1845, consequently aged five years, seven
months and twenty-one days. During the first few months of his short life his
health was in a very precarious state, and it was doubtful whether he would
be long spared to us. However, he recovered and at the age of three months, my parents took
him to Belleville (where the Conference was in session) and dedicated him to
the Lord, in baptism, by the name of Cyrus Ryerson. He was baptized by the
Rev. William Ryerson, for whom in part he received his name. The next year we were stationed at Napanee. While here, we thought my
little brother had perfectly recovered his health as it appeared to be very
good. At this early age, he gave indications (by talking when a year old) of
possessing a powerful mind which was
much strengthened as he grew older. In 1842 we were removed to Prescott. At this place, his health
continued to improve until November, at which time he was taken ill with the Whooping
Cough with which he suffered severely until the following May. During this period,
my dear father bid him farewell several times when he would leave him, to go
to a distant part of the District, not expecting to find him alive at his
return. But it please our Heavenly Father to spare his precious life and in
June he began to recover. For the first year that we resided in Bath, his health was good, but
in July, the second year, he, with every member of the family, suffered a
severe attack of the Influenza, from which we now think he never fully
recovered. But still he appeared to be tolerable well, with a few exceptions
until his last sickness. On the morning of Nov. 1st, 1845, he was taken ill with a
pain in his knee, which continued with very little intermission through the
day, with some fever. In the evening the pain and fever increased so much
that we became much alarmed. My father remained at home until late in the
evening, when he left for what is called the “Huntington Route.” On Sabbath
morning we sent for a physician, who did all he could to stop the disease,
but to little effect; however, he appeared to be a little better until evening,
when the pain and fever became very violent. His mind at this time became
very delirious and twice during the night it was thought the fatal hour had
arrived. This was a time of great distress. We expected my dear brother would
die before morning and my father many
miles from home. But our heavenly Father turned the dart aside for this time.
We sent for my father in the morning and when he came found my little brother
(as we supposed) better. He conversed with my father quite freely form some
time and asked him among other questions whether he would not stop preaching
and remain at home more? He was much
worse through the night, but on Tuesday morning appeared to be better and
talked considerable with my afflicted mother about his sickness and the
probability of his not getting well. He said, if he died, he would go to a “good
place.” Then he wished his Mamma to bring all the family (calling them by
name) to the “good palace” where he was going. My mother telling him she
would do so, his countenance seemed to brighten up while he added, “well,”
and then remarked, “I am glad I learned to be good while I was little.” He
then repeated the Lord’s Prayer and the first five verses of the second
Chapter of St. Matthew, shortly after which he appeared to be much worse,
until the next day at 3 o’clock. For a few hours at this time, he appeared to
be so much better, that both the hopes of his kind physician and our own were
very sanguine of his recovery. But alas! Our hopes only seemed to increase
our affliction and pain. Although my dear brother appeared to be better, yet
he soon became worse and it was apparent to all present that the solemn
crisis was near at hand. A little before the break of day on Thursday morning, he rallied a
little and turning to my weeping mother, asked, “Mamma, must I die?” My
mother told him she thought he would, but the good Lord would take him to
himself. My brother then said, “yes, he will; “ after which he said no more,
but continued to sink in the embrace of death, without any visible agitation
of body or mind. Oh! who but those who have drank the same bitter cup, can tell the
anxiety and distress that filled our hearts while waiting to see the grim
monster complete his last work. At a throne of Grace several petitions were
offered up, that this darling child might have an early visit through the
valley of death. At length the fatal moment arrived and these prayers were
answered; for at half-past eleven o’clock Thursday, November 6th,
this little suffering lamb truly sank in the arms of our blessed Saviour as
easy as though he had fallen into a natural sleep. And now is it possible (was the thought that filled our hears) that
our dear Cyrus is not more! The answer was, his little spirit has certainly
left this “vale of tears.” The question now proposed was: Where shall his
lovely remains be deposited (on which a sweet smile rested) till raised by
the last trumpet? It was first thought to inter him in the burial ground a little east
of the Parsonage, where lied the remains of Mrs. P. and many other valuable
friends. But as many of our dear relatives are buried in Adolphustown and
probably many more will be, it was finally resolved to take the corpse of my
dear brother to that place. On Friday we left home, accompanied by a number
of the Sidney friends, as far as Belleville; at which place we expected to
take the boat the same evening. But, as the steamer did not arrive in the
evening, we were delayed until Saturday at eleven o’clock at which time we
left and arrived at Adolphustown in the evening, where we found many of our
kind friends and anxious relatives waiting our arrival at the wharf. We took the lovely clay of my dear little brother to my much respected
uncle, Joseph B. Allison, where we remained through the night. Here we had often
stopped during the last three years, when my dear little brother was the
delight of the whole family. But oh !! how changed the scene! He, who was
once the joy of us all, is now looked upon by one after another who return
from his remains overwhelmed with grief. The next day (Sabbath the 9th)
an appropriate sermon was preached by the Rev. J. Black, Superintendent of
Bath Circuit, from Eccle. Vii. 14. We were then called to take the last view of what was dearer to us
than a thousand worlds – the remains of my dear and ever-to-be remembered
little brother. We kissed the lovely clay, took the look and then bid the
dear child farewell till the last day. We soon returned to his Parsonage, which has ever since worn a great
gloom. But, amidst our great affliction, there are several things connected
with the life an early death of my little brother, on which we reflect with
painful delight. He learned his prayers when very young and we do not
recollect of his ever refusing to say them once. Soon after he was three years
old, something crossed his wishes and he refused for some moments to say his
prayers. He soon wept freely for what he had done, then knelt down and said
his prayers and my dear mother thinks there was a change and improvement in
his disposition from that evening till his death. So attentive was he to his
prayers that in his last sickness he requested my mother to lift him out of
the bed to say his prayers. My dear mother told him that, as his knee was
very lame, he could say his prayers in bed. He said he could kneel on one
knee and would not rest until he had been taken up and had prayed. He was
very fond of going to meeting and would pay such attention that he could
often repeat the text and several important items connected with the sermon. Soon after he was two years old, he would say he wished to be a
preacher. Being once asked what text he would take, he answered; “Little children, keep yourselves from
idols; for Papa once preached from that.” By making inquiry it was found that
my dear father had preached from the above text, some months before in his
presence, about which nothing had been mentioned to him; yet still he had
stored it up in his retentive memory, although not then three years old. He was
particularly fond of singing and would often come to my mother and say, “let
us sing my hymn,” which was “O! that will be joyful.” &c. He attended
meeting a few evenings before his last sickness at which he heard a tune that
delighted him so much that he would request different members of the family to
go with him alone and sing it with
him. A short time before he died, he requested my dear father to sing, during
which he kept for some time quiet although in great pain. My dear brother was very anxious to read the New Testament through by
course. For this purpose he often commented, but never accomplished it. There
were several pieces in other books, which he was very fond of reading and
hearing read; particularly the story of “old Sylvester,” or “I shall soon be
ten years old,” which is found in the “Child’s Companion” which I received as
a reward from the much respected Superintendent of the Bath Sabbath School. But to conclude, my dear little brother is gone, never more to cheer
the family circle below. We greatly mourn our loss, but must think that it is
the stroke of a kind and heavenly father. May each remaining child of my much
afflicted parents be prepared to meet our little brother Cyrus in a happier
world. My dear parents desire to return their sincere acknowledgments for the
kindness which they received from the friends in this place, during my little
brother’s sickness, on their way to and at Adolphustown. By a slight
alteration and a few addition, the following lines, some of which we think to
place on the tomb-stone of my dear brother, are so appropriated, if at all
consistent with the great demand on your excellent paper, I wish inserted: - “Tity” is what he called himself, when a
year old, and the name by which he was generally known. The spell is broken! never more Can mortal life again seem gay; No future ever can restore The perish’d and
the past away! Though many a blessing gilds our lat, And bright eyes still our hearth illume, Yet, O dear Tity,
thou are not, And half the heart is in thy tomb. Sudden was felt the fatal shaft Which struck dear Tity
low in death; And while grief’s betterest
cup be quaff’d, We lean upon the Saviour’s
breast, Life faintly ebb’d
and ebb’d away, Till ass was still and ere the sun A seventh time shed his parting ray, Our lovely Tity’s
race was run! And O, dear Tity,
thou art gone; Beloved boy and can it be, That now to us remains alone Our unavailing grief for thee? Yet when we trace thine
upward track, To where immortal spirits reign, We do not, dare not wish thee back – Back to this world of care again; P. JANE
ALLISON Sidney, December 10th, 1845. |
