Thornton - Earnest
Indiana Nov 23, 1905
Earnest Thornton died at North Salem Sunday morning after being sick about a month with consumption. He was buried at that place. He was married about four months ago to a Miss Murphy, also a mute, whose parents live near North Salem. They lived for a time in Crawfordsville then Indianapolis where Earnest took sick and was in the hospital for some time. They then went to North Salem where they lived with Mrs. Thornton's grandmother. Everybody here knew Earnest, this being his home from boyhood. He was a barber by trade and was educated at the Death Mute Asylum at Indianapolis. - kbz
Note: Ernie is buried in Barnard Cemetery, Putnam County, Indiana. He was born there in March of 1874 in Russell Township, not far over the Montgomery/Putnam County line. He was the son of Joseph B. and Susan Dow Clark Thornton, his mother having preceded him in death. He had two brothers, John and Sanford also having preceded him but had one sister, Mary of Russellville and brothers, Will and Albert of Indianapolis.- kbz - Although his wife, Florence Morphew (not Murphy as noted in obit above) remarried James Grover Shaw and they had son Harold Nathan Shaw, she is buried with Ernie in the quiet country graveyard in Barnard, Putnam County, Indiana.
Below: Dr. Joseph Russell born 23 July 1815 in Bourbon County, Kentucky son of Joseph P. Russell and Elizabeth Penn was a doctor in the Russellville-Waveland area and also a poet of some note. Although, he didn't write poetry about each of his patients, he loved to write about those who either touched his heart or infuriated him. Assuming Ernie touched his big heart ! He fathered 9 children, six daughters and three sons.
to "The Deaf Mute, Ernest Thornton" from his doctor, Dr. Joseph Russell --
Poor Little Ernie Thornton made a hapless heir of fate,
That has clouded all his prospects, till a season of late
When an infant in his mother's arms, a charge of special care
Disease crept in within the door and shut the hearing ear.
Shut and sealed the sense of hearing, Little Ernie is a mute,
With his movements quick and lively, his perceptions are acute;
Though the inroads to his senses are revealed alone by signs,
Yet he's on the road to learning now and soon will read these lines,
He will read the sad disaster, of his father quickly slain,
Without one moment's warning by the speedy flying train,
But of mother's aching heart and grief he need not now to learn
With hers his grief was mingled well with hers his soul did yearn.
Ah, no, he need not learn it now, he need not learn it o'er
The bleeding heart may well recoil from what was felt before
And rather choose that memory's niche where sad events are stored
Might by oblivion's friendly touch, remove what is deplored.
But little Earnie's happy now, with scenes of life so changed,
Within the grand asylum walls, where all is well arranged;
For score and hundreds like himself are here enrolled and trained;
Their hearts with high emotion swell, as knowledge here is gained.
Here the mutes all learn by felling and the glorious sense of sight
And 'tis here they learn in reading 'tis here they learn to write,
'Tis here their souls are gladdened, with a pleasure undefined,
As born again from darkened depths, by light and truth combined.
In this institute of learning, where the poor receive the light,
When the tongue is mute in silence, when the ear has suffered blight;
Oh, it's grand to see their faces bright, their eyes lit up with glow
That has clouded all his prospects, till a season of late
When an infant in his mother's arms, a charge of special care
Disease crept in within the door and shut the hearing ear.
Shut and sealed the sense of hearing, Little Ernie is a mute,
With his movements quick and lively, his perceptions are acute;
Though the inroads to his senses are revealed alone by signs,
Yet he's on the road to learning now and soon will read these lines,
He will read the sad disaster, of his father quickly slain,
Without one moment's warning by the speedy flying train,
But of mother's aching heart and grief he need not now to learn
With hers his grief was mingled well with hers his soul did yearn.
Ah, no, he need not learn it now, he need not learn it o'er
The bleeding heart may well recoil from what was felt before
And rather choose that memory's niche where sad events are stored
Might by oblivion's friendly touch, remove what is deplored.
But little Earnie's happy now, with scenes of life so changed,
Within the grand asylum walls, where all is well arranged;
For score and hundreds like himself are here enrolled and trained;
Their hearts with high emotion swell, as knowledge here is gained.
Here the mutes all learn by felling and the glorious sense of sight
And 'tis here they learn in reading 'tis here they learn to write,
'Tis here their souls are gladdened, with a pleasure undefined,
As born again from darkened depths, by light and truth combined.
In this institute of learning, where the poor receive the light,
When the tongue is mute in silence, when the ear has suffered blight;
Oh, it's grand to see their faces bright, their eyes lit up with glow