“And help us to be true to the best that we know with hearts courageously hungry for the truth.”

Minneapolis Star | 2 January 1926

Minneapolis Star | 4 July 1941

Mrs. J Foster Terry SH to JH

January 1926

personal collection

Dear Jess:

I’m so glad you wrote me, and in the way you did, about Bill Foster’s going. In a cowardly way I had not written to his wife because I had not “lifted up mine eyes” and because I had been thinking in an all too human way only of the lonely, lonely way she must walk alone hereafter and the two babies she must lead and teach without his wise and loving help. I had written to his sister Maria because I knew what it meant to lose a well loved Brother and I knew where comfort lay.

Do you write to Mrs. Bill. You always had the gift of understanding sympathy. Their address is 304 Ontario St. SE, Minneapolis. I had a card at Xmas time with snapshots of the 2 little girls—one 3 ½ and one 8 months. Among other things it said “Bill is getting positively fat.” I had written them and told them we missed them last summer but that next summer they’d surely be here and we’d gather with the Jesse Halseys and have an old time reunion.

I understand he was take with pneumonia Xmas Eve and went to the hospital and daily the family here got telegrams of his condition. Pleurisy

--> set in and he died January 2^nd. Jo was teaching in the university too—I’m not sure what—psychology maybe too. One time she had charge of the correspondence courses they gave. She plans I hear to finish the year there. His body was not brought on—it was his wish that he be cremated and that to the family here was an added horror. His mother (so Mrs. Mourse Lafevre told me) is deeply religious and believed it for the best—only the cremation was a sort of sacrilege. (Personally I would not have been surprised had he willed his body to a hospital.) And unfortunately the cremation has given rise to some most unfounded conclusions. Cousin Amie Goodale in telling mother said, “But what could one expect for he did not believe in the resurrection.” I thought if that were neighborhood gossip you might through cousin Ida Fordham be able to slay it. No man who tho’t as deeply and thoroughly as he, could be unreligious. If his views were not all entirely orthodox, they were none the less sincerely religious and every one fought out with a fierce hatred for hypocrisy. Long ago he showed me a prayer he wrote. I learned it at the time and so to my regret did not write it down. Now I can recall but one line: “And help us to be true to the best that we know with hearts courageously hungry for the truth.”

If you have not written his family (in Water Mill) you might stress that religious side—for in your talk with him that evening here you found nothing but reverence I am sure.

I shall be glad to have your calendar—as you know.

Love from the Terrys to the Halseys,

Bess

P. S. I hope Helen is so pep-y and huskey that she is a regular gad-about. Did I tell you on the Xmas card of the twins we are waiting for in the spring? Little Pallas Napoleon and Cassandra Boneparte Fordham Terry, named for my great-great Aunts.

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"rendering up her life in homage for the gift of motherhood"

Southampton Press | 25 March 1926 |Elizabeth Fordham Terry

The community was greatly saddened by the death last week of Mrs. Elizabeth Fordham Terry, wife of J. Foster Terry. Her death followed a short illness which suddenly developed serious complications, and she passed away Friday evening at the Southampton Hospital, where she had been taken that morning. She was 37 years of age.

The funeral services were held at her home on Hildreth Street Monday afternoon and were attended by a large number. The Rev. Jesse Halsey of Cincinnati conducted the services, Mr. Halsey having come for the purpose as a warm friend of the family.

Mrs. Terry was greatly beloved in the village and her death is a sad blow to a large circle of friends. Her bright and inspiring personality and her unfailing consideration for others made her a welcome addition to every group. She possessed a brilliant mind and had unusual gifts as a conversationalist and a writer. She received her education at the Southampton High School, from which she graduated in 1905, and at Vassar College, graduating from the latter institution with the class of 1910. After graduation she taught for several years in the Bancroft School at Haddonfield, N.J.

During the World War, Mrs. Terry served as the local district nurse for the Red Cross. In the epidemic of influenza, he sympathetic ministrations and faithful services endeared her to the unfortunate families where the disease was rife, and there are many of our foreign-born citizens who expressed their grief at her passing.

She is survived by her husband and by two young children, Malcolm and Helen; one sister, Mrs. Albert Burr Craft of Yonkers; and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Frank T. White. Her only brother, Malcolm R. White, was killed in France during the war.

In a beautiful tribute to the deceased, the Rev. Mr. Halsey said in part, “This earthly tenement was the habitation of one of the finest spirits I have ever known. Her loss to this community seems irreparable. She lent her aid to every good word and work. Many families of our less-fortunate citizens remember her many kindnesses in time of need.

A brilliant intellect; a remarkably balanced and sane outlook on life, a keen sense of humor—these and many other rare qualities of mind and heart endeared her to a  large circle of friends [indecipherable] when we cry, “To what purpose is this waste” can mean, but one [indecipherable] meaning [indecipherable] ever. It means that out beyond the Mystery there is some other room of our Father’s House where character and capacity are valued and where high service is to be performed.

While our presence and our poor words try to express our sympathy with this household, we renew our Faith in the Life Immortal, whose portal we call death, more homelike seems the vast Unknown since she has entered there.

“I have always thought of Malcolm White as the reincarnation of Captain George, and the faith, and courage of the soldier as he “went West” is paralleled in his sister, who with a smile upon her lips went out unafraid, rendering up her life in homage for the gift of motherhood.”

“One who never turned the back

But marched breast forward.

Never doubted clouds would break.

Held, we fall to rise, and baffled

To fight better; sleep to wake.”