Introduction
Born: March 14, 1856, Columbus, Ohio.
Died: October 30, 1885, Painesville, Ohio, of typhoid fever.
Buried: Evergreen Cemetery, Painesville, Ohio.
Born: March 14, 1856, Columbus, Ohio.
Died: October 30, 1885, Painesville, Ohio, of typhoid fever.
Buried: Evergreen Cemetery, Painesville, Ohio.
Minnie was the daughter of Michael Boyd Bateham and Josephine Abiah Penfield Cushman.
“At age twelve, Minnie folded her wings under the touch of the angel of suffering…
“For weary months and years [she] bore such intense pain that it was a marvel the frail body endured…Never again was Minnie to be wholly free from her chains, yet she became a fine student and an earnest worker for Christ, as well as a true poet of the heart, and her great luminous eyes and bright face always bore a message of faith and love, till in early womanhood thee cage was opened, and the freed spirit entered the larger life for which it had been in training…
“As time passed on she had longer intervals of rest from pain, and these became still longer, until the prospect changed from that of a speedy journey to the palace of the King, which she so greatly coveted, to one of life-long invalidism and suffering; yet her sweet spirit never really murmured…
To enlarge and sweeten the child’s shut-in life, her mother usually spent a part of each day reading aloud from the best poets and prose writers, and in her comfortable hours Minnie pursued her own studies, wrote letters and competed, usually with success, for prizes offered by different periodicals for the literary productions of children.
Nine years after Minnie’s death, her mother wrote a touching biography of her, The Invalid Singer.
How well I loved in early spring
To roam the meadows through,
To hear the wild birds sweetly sing,
And hunt the violets blue.
Now I lie quiet on my bed,
And cannot even move;
But then the others tell me all,
And bring the flowers I love.
And I can from the windows look,
And breathe balmy air,
And soon, I’ll hope, be wheeled around,
Reclining in my chair.
This is the second spring that here
In helplessness I’ve lain;
And possibly I ne’er shall be
Able to walk again.
But when all nature’s putting on,
Of green leaves, all her wealth,
I hope that He who made the Spring
Will raise me up to health.
But still I say, ‘Thy will be done,’
And surely feel that He
Who cares for every tender flower
Knows what is best for me.
Minerva Dayton Bateham
The Invalid Singer, 1895