Maud Hull

Hello, My name is Maud Hull. I was the youngest child of Dr.

William and Margaret Church Hull. I died quite suddenly when

I was only 16. It was December of 1886...I barely got a chance

at life.

You might recognize my mother's maiden name....Church. Her

father-my grandfather-was Jeremiah Church, the founder of

Carlisle. In fact, if you look closely at my stone, I am buried

beside both my Mother and my Grandfather.

Shortly after being laid to rest, a heavy snowfall came to

Carlisle. Right after that snow, a young boy was taking a

shortcut through the cemetery and noticed tracks in the snow.

Those tracks led to my grave where they plainly showed that

my grave had been disturbed. Thankfully, the young boy ran to

town to notify my family.

My oldest brother Dr. Frank Hull, took charge of the search for

my missing body. The search went on night and day but to no

avail.....Until a shoe salesman from Carlisle, named Andrew

Clark heard something disturbing. He passed on the clue he

had heard while fitting shoes for two medical students from

Des Moines. Those students just couldn't resist talking...thank

goodness for that.

After collecting a few more tips, my brother, the detective and

his friend, Mr. Fry, went to a medical building in Des Moines,

and looked down through a skylight into a dissecting room. In

my day, unfortunately, bodies were sometimes snatched to be

used to further the education of medical students. What they

saw when they peered in confirmed their hunch. It was me,

lying on a table. They entered the building and brought me

back to my resting place here in the Carlisle Cemetery pulled

by a horse-drawn sledge.Then quietly and reverently, they

placed me in my final resting spot.

Someday you might wander through this pleasant area and

you will spot some graves with cement over them. To ward off

would-be thieves, it became a popular thing to do.

For some time afterwards the good people of Carlisle took

turns at night guarding and watching over the graves of their

loved ones and fellow citizens here in the cemetery.

Sadly the grave robbers were never even punished.

Martha Casebeer

Good evening,

My name is Martha Casebeer. This is my grave right here. It’s

nice to see visitors in this old part of the cemetery. Very few

people come here anymore and even fewer come to see me.

You see, I’m not from here. I have no folks here. We was just

passing through. I was born in Ohio in 1818. My Pa was a

blacksmith in his early life and later turned to farming. We had

a good life.

Then the war came. My brother, James went for a soldier in

the Ohio Volunteers. He died in 1863. He left a widow and 8

children. At 27, I was nearly an old maid when I married

Soloman Casebeer. He was a widower with a child so I

became a wife and a mother in the same day. Soon I was a

mother for real. All together we had 6 children. After both

James and Ma died, the whole family decided to pick up and

move west. Leaving the only homes we had ever known was

frightening but we knew there was a better place for us. A

place where we could heal from the wounds the war had left.

We could only take a small part of our belongings.

Mostly we walked. Folks was friendly and often we

stopped along the way for some time just to get over the

weariness. There was something new to see with every mile

that passed. I never saw such a mighty big river as the

Mississippi. My brother Austin found a spot for his family in

Brooklyn, Iowa. Pa stayed there too. He was sick of travelin’.

Me and Soloman and our family kept on going. When winter

came we stopped here for a while. It’s a nice place but

Soloman planned to move on in the Spring. The weather was

damp and cold. That cough I had turned nasty and there was

no medicine to help. I went quick. That was January of 1875.

I’ve been right here for 141 years. That is all there is to the

story of my life. I wasn’t nobody special. I never did anything

important but everyone deserves to be remembered. I hope

you’ll come and visit me again someday.