The Life And Testimony Of Elizabeth Gadsby (Gee)

Gospel Standard 1872:

Death. On Dec. 14th, at the residence of her parents, Finchley New Road, South Hampstead, aged 35, Elizabeth Leete Gee, wife of Mr. Wright Gee, manager of the Manchester and County Bank, Wigan, and daughter of the publisher of this magazine.

She had for some time been in a delicate state of health, and the unfavourable symptoms were greatly increased after her last confinement. It was hoped that a change might, with the blessing of God, prove beneficial to her. She was, therefore, on a visit to her parents.

The last attack, inflammation, or probably peritonitis, was most acute, but brief. She lay during the day as in a stupor, scarcely speaking. Her husband, who had been telegraphed for, arrived just in time to hear her last word, “Yes!” with a smile, in answer to the question, “Is your mind at peace?” She soon afterwards passed away without a movement.

That this peace was well grounded,—“peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” those who best knew her in life can testify.

She was married by Mr. Philpot, in Gower Street chapel, April 25th, 1867, and will (D.V.) be interred where Mr. Gee’s father was interred, at Brooklands, near Manchester, by Mr. Taylor, on the 19th. She has left two dear children, one under three-and-a-half years, and the other under five months.

It is no exaggeration to say she was beloved by all who knew her.

Dec. 16, 1871.

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Death. Elizabeth Leethe Gee.—On Dec. 14th, 1871, aged 35, Elizabeth Leete Gee.

The meagre account which was given last month of my daughter has called forth expressions of regret, and a desire to have further particulars.

It may be that some who have never once had their thoughts directed to the certainty of death and the uncertainty of everything else here may read this brief account. May the reading thereof be the means, if the Lord’s blessed will, of opening their hearts and showing them where they are, and what they are, as sinners, before a heart-searching God; and then of leading them to Christ as their only Saviour.

As far back as I can remember, my dear father was in the habit of having all his family, children and grandchildren to the very youngest, at his house on Christmas day, my dear mother’s birthday. After his decease I adopted the plan, and uniformly carried it out, except when abroad. Last year it was arranged that my daughter, being unwell, should come up with her two children and nurse before the time, and that her husband should come for her on Dec. 23rd, all returning together after Christmas day.

My daughter’s birthday was on Dec. 6th; and we had on that day several of her dear friends,—Miss Oakshott, Miss Philpot, and others, to spend that day with her.

Never, says the nurse, did she before see anyone so delighted at the prospect of seeing her parents as my daughter was; and never, surely, were parents more pleased to see their child. But O! How short-lived were to be these mutual pleasures! “Go with her,” said the doctor at Wigan to the nurse, “for she is a delicate creature;” and this was, indeed, true. She suffered acutely from a pain in the stomach, which we thought arose from indigestion; but it would appear that it arose from an old ulcer, which caused a vomiting of blood some years ago. She had medical advice; but on Dec. 12th, on my return from chapel, I found her much worse, and called in another doctor, who did not then seem to anticipate anything very serious; but the next evening, seeing no improvement, I sent for a physician. He at once saw the danger, and desired me immediately to telegraph for her husband. I need not dwell upon this. The telegraph offices were closed, and her husband did not arrive until about  6 o’clock on the 14th, evening. She had been through the day in a kind of stupor, the effect probably of the medicines, and scarcely noticed anything; but two of her aunt’s, Mrs. P. and Mrs. A., and her cousins, calling to see her, she said to them, “O! How kind of you to come to see me!” and she embraced them and kissed them. They said to her, “Lizzie, dear, you are very poorly.” She smiled, and said, “Better soon!” She felt she should soon be in a better world. She knew her husband and me when we went to her bedside. We spoke to her of her knowledge of herself as a sinner and of the preciousness of Christ as a Saviour; being well persuaded that not only was her heart right in the sight of God, but that her judgment was also sound in the truths of the gospel. She lay the whole time without moving. Mr. Gee engaged in prayer; and I then said to her, “My dear child, is your mind at peace?” She smiled, and said, or rather whispered, “Yes!” And soon afterwards her happy spirit departed.

That this peace, as was said last month, was well grounded,—”peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” those who best knew her in life can testify. A dear friend, the widow of one of the dearest friends I ever had in my life, writes as follows:

“From a little child, I remember her as being so kind and pleasant, so honest and straightforward. She was a great favourite with my dear husband. How often I have heard him say how much he liked Miss Gadsby, and found her so kind in visiting at your house; and how many will bear witness to the same. I have a particular remembrance of one walk I took with her alone from Cowley Hall to Uxbridge, and had a conversation on many weighty matters. I have thought of that walk, and the impression it left on my mind. That word has been very precious to me since last Sunday night: ‘My grace is sufficient for thee;’ sufficient for life and sufficient for death, and for all the trials we have to go through. I am sure you and dear Mrs. Gadsby do truly need grace at this time to bow to the stroke and to say, ‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!’ My prayer to God is that you may be supported and sustained.”

I take the liberty of giving also the following:

“I can set my seal to what is said about your daughter’s kindness and regard for those that feared the Lord, having experienced it in your house in former years; and I noticed in her a sterling worth of character and underlying seriousness too, which would not misbecome some who profess more than she in those days did. 

“G. HAZLERIGG.”

The immediate cause of her death was perforation, or probably peritonitis; that is, the ulcer having eaten through the lining of the stomach. 

She was strictly conscientious. I do not believe she ever told an untruth in her life.

It is no exaggeration to say she was beloved by all who really knew her. Indeed, the letters I have received, bearing testimony to this fact, are most numerous. Her kindness to the poor was quite up to her means; indeed, sometimes beyond her means, as she would deny herself the purchasing of some article of dress that she might have the more to give; and she was always delighted when she heard I had sent a trifle to some poor minister, or given liberally at some collection or to some “charity.” Her name will be familiar to many as the Honorary Secretary to the Special Fund for the Aged Pilgrims’ Friend Society, when, in conjunction with Mr. Philpot, who highly esteemed her, about £1,100 was raised. She was married April 25th, 1867, by Mr. Philpot. One minister writes as follows:

“I have a most affectionate remembrance of the departed. You may have forgotten the circumstance; but I remember it well. Some years ago, when I was in London, to the best of my recollection you and Mrs. G. were from home. She asked me about Mrs. S. in the usual way; Mrs. S. at that time was very ill. I thought no more about it. Not so with my departed friend; she laid her plan, and a few days after my return I had a note and a sovereign, which she had obtained from you for Mrs. S. I felt deeply touched with her kind consideration, and I trust she found mercy with Him who has promised not to forget a cup of cold water given to a disciple in the name of the Lord.

“Ramsgate.” 

“R. SHARPE.

She was interred by Mr. Taylor, on Dec. 10th, in the cemetery at Sale, Cheshire, near to the grave of Mr. Gee’s father.

This world is sometimes called “the land of the living;” but that is certainly a mistake. It is the land of the dying. As a good American senator once said, when on his deathbed, “I am leaving the land of the dying and going to the land of the living.” O that we could always view it in the same light! Solomon, or rather the Lord by Solomon, said, “There is a time to be born and a time to die.” Is it not singular he did not say there is a time to live? It was as though there was not a time to live, only a step between our birth and our death.

“The moment we begin to live We all begin to die.”

John Gadsby