in tears—but, O God, so altered, so emaciated, that I should never have recognized her, had I not known that there were none else in the room.
Instead of the tall, robust woman, blooming in health, whom I saw last, she is now bent up by “fell disease,” pined away to almost a skeleton, and unable to walk.
She is under the necessity of being bolstered up in bed, being incompetent to lie down, as it would immediately choke her.’
The next two or three weeks, during which Lloyd
was able to remain with his mother, were precious to them both, for they had many things to talk of before their final separation,—Lloyd's prospects for the future; the mystery attending his father; the recent death of his sister; and the possible fate of his wayward brother James, from whom nothing had been heard for years, and who was destined, poor waif!
to be tossed and driven about the sea, suffering incredible hardships, for nearly a score of years longer, before he was finally discovered and rescued by his brother.
Not long after Lloyd
had taken farewell of his mother and returned to Newburyport
, a cancerous tumor which had formed on her shoulder necessitated an operation, from the effects of which she never rallied, and she steadily sank until the 3rd of September, when death1
ensued. Everything was done by the friends about her to make her last days comfortable, and her remains were interred in the private burial lot of a family who had been especially attached and devoted to her. Her son recorded her decease in the Newburyport Herald
of September 9, 1823, as follows:
died. In Baltimore, 3rd inst., after a long and distressing illness, which she bore with Christian fortitude and resignation, Mrs. Frances Maria Garrison, relict of the late Capt. Abijah G., formerly of this town, aged 45.
[The printers of the Eastport Sentinel and St. John Star are requested to copy this death into their respective papers.]
With three exceptions, when he contributed some trifling and unimportant verses under his old signature