Thank you for posting this. I am descended from Miriam's father, William Ormskirk Bowler. Her sisters married into a number of local families: Jolliff (Catherine), Huntington (Maria), Prickett (Sarah) and Slack (Susan).
This obituary is interesting because it is the only mention of Miriam and it confirms that William's middle name was Ormskirk, not Omskirk.
In the same paper was the following poem written by her father:
A CAVEAT AGAINST MURMURING;
Occasioned by the death of the author's Daughter.
Child of motality whence comest thou!
And why do thy tears overflow;
Why hangs discontent on thy sorrowful brow -
The cause of thy grief let me know?
I mourn to behold the decay of all things,
That nature to ruin all ends -
That swift Time in his flight still constantly brings
Some being, something to its end.
The rose I have seen in its beauty and bloom
To the sun its gay foliage display;
While the busy wild bee like a plunderer came
And bore all its sweetness away.
The insects I've seen in their gaudy attire,
Enjoying the beams of the sun;
They darted like lightning, they sparkled like fire,
And in giddy circles did run.
I returned and saw that the evening breeze
Had swept them away like a dream;
The martin and swallow vast numbers had seiz'd,
And millions were sunk in the stream.
A tall stately tree I beheld on the green,
It spread its wide branches around;
The fowls of the air on its foliage was seen,
And the beasts in its shade on the ground.
I return'd and the worm, like the tooth of Old Time
Had into the heart made its way;
The branches were lopp'd by the husbandman's axe:
It mouldered and fell to decay.
A man I have seen in the pride of his youth;
He leaped, he walked around:
He boasted of wisdom, of virtue and truth,
And his heart did with gladness abound.
I retun'd and behold creation's fair king
Upon the cold ground was laid dead;
His hands could not move & his tongue could not sing
- His beauty and glory were fled.
I had a fair daughter just rising sixteen,
Who lately resigned her breath;
My hopes were all blasted - my anguish was keen
To see her led captive by death.
And now, my companion in sorrow and woe
Seems likely to share her doom:
Her griefs are corroding, and will not be slow
in pushing her on to the tomb.
I weep to behold the Destroyer of man
Spread direful destruction abroad,
And seems discomposing the beautiful plan
That was laid by the wisdom of God.
All things that have life are the subjects of death -
All beings haste on to decay;
Creation is treading destructions wide path,
And to ruin is hastening away.
O cease mournful mortal! O cease to repine!
Nor with sorrow thy breast discompose;
Thy station is fixed by wisdom Divine,
And the depths of his counsels who knows.
Can infinite wisdom have faults in his plan?
Can his smallest purpose be cross'd?
The designs of a God there's no mortal can scan -
In the depths of his wisdom were lost.
Then let us forego every murmuring thought,
Nor suffer ourselves to complain;
For we into being by wisdom are brought,
Who never could make us in vain.
Then cheerfully take of the bounty he gives,
And thankfully lift up our voice;
Since praise is a tribute he freely receives,
Let us in all goodness rejoice.