It has become my painful duty to chronicle the death of my beloved husband, A. G. Adams. He fell asleep in Jesus about 1 o'clock on sixth-day morning after a protracted, and a portion of the time painful illness, aged 30 years 2 months and 20 days. He was attacked nearly five months ago with Bilious Fever which in one week passed into Lung Fever of a typhoid nature; and after a severe illness he seemed to be recovering, was able to walk out a short distance, and sit up all day; but for the last five weeks, which is all the time during his sickness, that I have been with him, he appeared to be gradually failing.
His end was peaceful and his trust in Jesus firm and unshaken; and upon my saying to him some time after he was past speaking and when his end was apparently near, You know where your hope is placed? he pressed my hand in token that he did. He appeared to be perfectly clear and calm in mind, while he was capable of expressing it even with his eyes. I cannot speak of all he was; but those who knew him will see that his death corresponded with his life, calm, strong, and peaceful.