C. H. Turner, Artist, a Former Hampton Boy, died November 24, 1908.

CHARLES H. TURNER

The many friends of Mr. Charles Turner, Hampton, were shocked to hear of his death last week. Mr. Turner spent his boyhood here and, for many years after his marriage, returned for the summer months, to his ancestral home, which he had beautified and improved in a pleasing manner; later he with his wife, have made their summer home in Jackson.

His daughter, Mrs. C. V. Souther, with her husband and children have since occupied the home here during the summer months, and are well known residents. Mr. Turner also leaves a wife and one son, Charles H. Turner. Mr. Turner was beloved by hosts of friends here, as well as in his other homes, always the same kindly, courteous gentlemen. His loss brings sadness to many hearts. Many friends gathered in the cemetery here on the arrival of the friends from Boston, with Mr. Turner's remains. The flowers were especially beautiful, completely covering the grave. The following from the Boston Transcript of Nov. 27, will be of interest to friends here:

"Rev. Elwood Worcester D. D., of Emmanuel church conducted the simple services at the funeral of Charles H. Turner, the artist, which was held at the late home of the deceased on Mount Vernon street. Master Percy E. Walbridge and Chaplain A. B. Shield of the Winslow Lewis lodge, A. F. and A. M., finished the services the with the ritual of their order. Mr. Turner was junior deacon of this lodge and many fellow members were present and joined in the Masonic service. "Abide with me, ""Lead Kindly Light" and several other hymns were sung by the Albion Quartette. The parlors of the house were well filled with friends and relatives of the deceased. The burial took place at Hampton, New Hampshire, which was Mr. Turner's native home.

Mr. Turner had been for years a summer resident of Jackson, N. H., occupying the commodious and tastily arranged studio which he had built on the northeasterly slope of Duck's Head, a spur of Iron mountain, and commanding a beautiful and extended view of Thorn, Tin, Black, Double Head, Eagle and Wild Cat mountains, Carter's Dome and the summits of the Presidential Range. Looking downward, the view comprises the Jackson valley with its various hotels and cottages, the summer golf links, the junction of the Wildcat and Glen Ellis rivers and a great variety of scenery which furnishes a never-ending delight to an artistic mind.

Mr. Turner had spent many happy summers amid these scenes of beauty, some of which he had transferred to canvas and placed on exhibition in his large gallery, to which summer visitors in the town were welcome and where Mr. Turner dispensed a hospitality both whole-souled and generous. Perhaps in no circle outside his immediate family will there be greater sadness at the loss of Mr. Turner than among those scattered far and wide in the land who have in recurring seasons found his charming companionship and friendship a real feature of their summer rest."

Oh friend, thy bark has drifted with the tide,
     And darkness veils it from our mental sight;
But safely it has reached the other side;
     Sailed out of darkness, into noonday light.
For him it brought release from torturing pain,
     For those who're left, sore grief and crushing loss.
But memories so dear, help to sustain
     The burden; help to bear the heavy cross.
His was a rare sweet soul, cheery and kind,
     An artist, loving men, and trees, and flower
And all things beautiful, nor ceased to find
     Work for the busy hand, each fleeting hour.
Throngs daily gathered where his work was wrought,
     And lingered long the artist's work to scan;
With long and arduous toil, his fame he bought,
     We loved him most as a true and upright man.
Dear friends who mourn, oh dry your tears;
     Let this thought ease your sorrow;
You'll meet him in a few short years,
     It may be on the morrow.

Lucy A. Marston