On Wednesday, November 23, 1927 as the somber shadows of Thanksgiving eve drew on apace, from the country home of her devoted daughter, Mrs. Ivy Neff, of Madison township, Carroll County, Indiana, the immortal spirit of Mrs. Ida McCain Jackson, without a moments warning, for even a parting saluation to her loved ones, passed out into the great unknown. Surviving, besides Mrs. Neff, are three other children, Ben, Bryan and Helen Jackson, and four grandchildren, two other sons, Roy and Larry having proceeded her in death. She also left surviving three sisters, Mrs. Jennie Buckley, Mrs, Addie Groninger and Mrs. Pearl Allen and two brothers, Charles E. and Frank McCain. Mrs. Jackson first saw the light of, day from the old pioneer McCain homestead, two miles east of the city of Delphi, on September 16, 1856, where she grew to well rounded womanhood, after attending the country school, and also teaching several terms in the surrounding rural districts. On her birthday, September 16, 1879 Ida McCain became the wife of James Jackson, a life time acquaintance and like her a descendant of a pioneer family. Early in their married life, Mrs. Jackson and her husband left their native Hoosier state and went west, where, for thirty years they heroically braved the rigorous hardships of frontier experience in a dug-out on the bald prairies of southwestern Kansas, in which humble surroundings three of her children were born. Later the family returned to Indiana, and in 1908 settled down upon a romantic tract in Cass County, seven miles west of the city of Logansport where, after many years of happy wedded life, the husband sickened and died on November 23, 1922. Here she continued her residence, long before having named the cozy cottage home “The Wren Nest,” and here, occupied with a multitude of busy cares, she was always charmed with her somewhat solitary life, amidst the sylvan environment of wild flowers and warbling birds, early becoming an enthusiastic and useful member of the Asa Gray Memorial Chapter of the Agassia National Botanical Association, in which organization she long enjoyed a recognized prominence among the professional and practical botanists of the Mississippi valley. Meanwhile her optimistic spirit took delight in versification of a high order, and her inspiring lines, breathing the poesy of rural life, found welcome prominence upon the pages of the Indianapolis Star and other publications. She was an active constructive, earnest advocate of right living in all its phases, and her kindly ministrations as a mother, a grandmother, a sister and a loyal friend will be sadly missed by the scores who today mourn her passing. To those, who in her early and after life were privileged to enjoy her confidence and esteem, there comes, at this darkened hour, with double force, the thought founded upon the old-fashioned belief, that the friendships of youth, formed in the years agone, in the "quiet" little country school house, are more lasting and more gripping than the formal, forced companionship so often cultivated amidst the crowded, bewildering destructions of city activities. Here was indeed a woman of high ideals, whose personality, whose versatility, whose attainments and Christian practices marked her as a most lovable, outstanding motherly character, either in a sod house upon the western planes or in a bungalow upon the sunny slopes of the classic Wabash; an adept at either pastry or poetry. Long live her like. Ida, mother, sister, friend of the years, your mission here completed, we bid you a fond, a regretful farewell, believing that you have reached “That evergreen shore” in “The Land of Lost Days,” to which you sought passage in your pathetic plea to the “boatman” as penned by you- in the following poetic lines, which seem almost prophetic of your passing, and in your own words is this tribute to your memory, touchingly conclude. ‘The Land of Lost Days” Ho! Boatman, we're waiting; come carry us o’er To the Land of Lost Days, where „the purple peaks rise in the distance so dimly, and jubilant skies. Soft showers of sunbeams exultingly pour. And the smiling sea kisses the white sand shore. There the fugitive spring time trill ‘Love never dies,’’ And a bird in the almond bush, “Never’' replies. O haste, boatman, haste, we’ll return nevermore. So grandly we’ll gather, so gaily we’ll sing. When from this sad burden of years we are free. That the forests will listen, and listening, will fling back the echoes, sweet echoes, to you and to me, it gleams in the distance! That evergreen shore. O haste, boatman, haste, we’ll return nevermore. Funeral services were held at the Delphi Presbyterian church at 2:00 o’clock Saturday afternoon. Rev. R. Dale Le Count officiating. Burial in I. O. O. F. cemetery. Delphi Citizen December 8, 1927