DIED.-Mrs. Rose Hudleson. At the home of her mother in this city on Thursday, March 1, 1894, aged 18 years, 4 months and 19 days, Rose was born at Kalamazoo, Mich., on May 13th, 1875, and came to Nebraska with her parents when a small girl. She was married to Oliver Huddleson in Nov. 1891, and the fruits of this union was a bright little boy which she left under the care of her mother. She united with the Baptist church something more than a year ago, and during her last trying hours she was happy in the knowledge that rest awaited her beyond the grave. She was an affectionate and dutiful wife and mother, a conscientious Christian woman, and her untimely death is mourned by a large circle of friends. Her funeral was preached at the Baptist church at 2 o'clock on Saturday by the Rev. James Sheppard, and her remains were lovingly consigned to mother earth in the Blair Cemetery. Poor girl! She suffered much, let her rest.

#2 Printed in the Thursday, February 15, 1894 Pilot

Mrs. Rose Huddleson, whose husband recently deserted her, is lying dangerously ill at her mother’s, Mrs. Connors’, on Washington Street. It is said that she cannot recover.

#3 Printed in the Thursday, March 8, 1894 Pilot

DRIVEN TO HER GRAVE

As will be seen by an obituary published elsewhere in this paper, Rose Huddleson, the poor, abused, neglected, heart-broken wife of Oliver Huddleson, has crossed the dark river of death, her soul has returned to its God, and her body is at rest in the tomb. Robbed of all that made her life worth the living, scorned, abused and mistreated by her husband, she gave up in utter despair and died with a broken heart. Poor girl! How happy her childhood, how bright the days when budding forth into promising womanhood, and how sad and miserable her untimely death. Her life was an uneventful but happy one,, innocent alike of the wickedness of the world and the depths to which a brute in human form would stoop to accomplish his desires and wreck and ruin a young life, she trusted, loved, was wooed and won by the author of all her misery, the reprobate who unfortunately was her husband. Up to this time no cloud had darkened her sky. She had never known a sorrow, which made it all the easier for this villain to crush out her young life and cast her off as a child would a plaything. All that was left her was her little boy, but he could not bind up the wounded, bleeding heart of mother, and ere the flowers of spring time came to gladden the heart of the world he was destined to be left an orphan, with his father an indolent, idle, worthless wart on the community. The child will be cared for and reared by Mrs. Connors, mother of the deceased according to her dying request.

Rose grew up in Blair and ripened into a light-hearted and merry girl of sixteen, with the rays of God’s sunlight illuminating her heart and shining forth with brightness upon all her future pathway. Her many friends looked forward to her future, which seemed full of promise, with much concern. She was beloved by all, and her premature death is mourned with genuine sorrow, while the unhappy circumstances, together with the inhuman treatment endured at the hands of her husband and members of his family who aided and abetted him in his damnable persecutions, are condemned in no unstinted terms by all who are acquainted with the circumstances.

The poor girl was deceived into this unholy marriage by the fawning flattery of young Huddleson, who evidently belongs to that class of individuals who have no regard for the chastity or virtue of a woman,, who look upon them as their prey, and have sunk so low in the scale of humanity that they have no respect for the sacredness of the love of a pure woman’s heart, and who fear neither God, man nor the devil. He led her to the altar while she was yet a child of only sixteen, and soon as the honeymoon was over his passion was appeased, his ardor cooled, her society no longer congenial, and he became a frequenter of the saloon, the gambling hell, and other disreputable dives, his associates the idlers, loafers and bums of the streets. At times he was driven to extremes to get money on which to bum. He robbed his own wife of ten dollars at one time which she had saved up, and claimed that the house was burglarized. After this his poor suffering wife was reduced to absolute want but endured it all with closed lips and submissive patience. At last the fatal blow came. Night after night he was away from his home, and her loneliness and abject misery was almost beyond endurance. She would frequently go to her mothers, and remain overnight, and on two of these occasions he compelled her to get up at two o’clock and accompany him home. But still she was uncomplaining. Finally, one morning on returning home she found a note from him lying on the table informing her that he had “hit the road” that morning. He had removed his feather bed and clothing to a relative, and it is only a wonder that he did not take the personal effects of his wife and child.

But still he was not satisfied. Under this great load of sorrow his poor heart-broken wife soon sickened, and physicians were called. But medical science was not skillful enough to bind up and heal the wounds of her bleeding heart, and soon the friends of the poor woman were informed that she must die. This soon reached the ears of the inhuman husband, who immediately saw a doctor’s and an undertaker’s bill loom up in the near future for him or his father to pay, and steps were taken to avoid it. He immediately commenced suit for a divorce, though only separated a little more than three months. Simultaneously with this proceeding he posted his wife warning people to not trust her on his account and succeeded in getting it published twice. This notice was entered for six weeks, but the motives of the scoundrel and his true character were ascertained, and its publication ceased. The poor woman has lain for weeks at her mother’s, utterly helpless, praying that his hard heart might be touched with sympathy and pity if nothing more, and that he might return and make her last fast fleeting hours more endurable, but her prayers, entreaties and tears were in vain. He went to see her just once, and then through entreaty of friends who believed her dying. He then closed the door between himself and her for ever. Yea, for ever! He has sinned away his day of grace, and if he is ever worthy a place beside her in that upper and better world it will indeed be a miracle.

Not one of his family ever saw her while she was sick, nor attended her funeral after she was dead. They have shown the inborn principles underlying their selfish and despicable natures and branded themselves as devilish and mean in the extreme. His family were in town when she was buried, and drove out a part of the way to the cemetery in front of the hearse, and then turned out to watch the procession go by. Young Huddleson was either at his father’s or at Herman and entirely unconcerned about the matter.

He poured out her cup of bitterness full to the brim. It is one of the most infamous cases of low down cussedness and ill treatment that has ever come under our observation, and is looked upon with disgust and utter contempt by people in all stations of life. It is a pity that such infamy and abuse can be practiced upon a defenseless woman in a Christian community. The odium and stigma of his sin should follow him all through his life and no doubt will.

~~~Obituaries courtesy of the Nebraska Washington County Genealogical Society. Newspaper clippings on file in the Public Library, Blair, Nebraska ~~~

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