John Barnett, or Uncle John as everybody called him, was born December 14, 1812 in Northumberland
County Virginia. He was united in Marraige April 2, 1834 with Miss Alice S. Moore who was born on the
same day and the same county as himself.
They came west to Henderson County Illinois in June of 1837 and opened out a farm one mile west of
the present village of Smithshire, then a wild prairie. Upon this same farm, husband and wife lived
happily, toiling and rejoicing in the fruit of their labor, until the death angel called for Uncle John
on the morning of August 31, 1892, and he went out from the old homestead to a better country, to a new
citizenship in a land prepared for the people of God; where there are no old settlers, but eternal
Ten children were born to Uncle John and his wife, three sons and seven daughters. One son and five
daughters survive him, also sixteen grandchildren and thirteen great-grandchildren.
In August of 1843 John Barnett was converted and united with the Methodist Episcopal Church. Some
years ago a Church difficulty, in which his sympathies were with the accused party, caused him to cease
his Church activities, but he never lost his hold upon the cross of Christ, but held on, until for him
the cross moved upward, and lifted him up to God. He was a man of deep Sympathies, of warm and
impulsive nature. He loved his fellow man and with an intense loyalty, he loved his native land.
The writer was in his house several times ten years ago, when pastor at Ellison, and found him to be
a true man, and Christian, and promised to preach his funeral if called upon, which promise was
discharged in the presence of a large company of appreciative friends, Friday September, 2, 1892, at 12
o'clock at the old homestead. The body was interred in the Kirkwood Cemetery.
In the mystery of providence of the aged wife, almost a helpless invalid for years, (unable to read
next sentence) Together, in point of time, they began the course of life, and from marraige for 58
years, they passed down the river of life together. What matter if one has touched at the upper
landing, and there is sorrow and seperation, the other tarries but a little time.
And so beside the windows sitting,
While the moments by are flitting,
Sitting in afflictions shadow,
Looking out across the meadow,
Past the place of toil and weeping
Where the friends of yore are sleeping,
Past the moaning and the sighing,
Past the suffering and the dying,
To the land of ancient story,
To the realm of life and glory,
Sitting in the twilight gloaming,
Watching for the angels coming:
Sitting in the place of sorrow,
Waiting for the glad tommorrow,
This obit was signed R.A.B. for R. A. Brown
This Obit was provided by one of our lookup volunteers Gary L.