THE SHOPLAND FAMILY
(Family history research into the SHOPLAND family)                                                                             Research - America                  
 
Samuel Shopland (1817-1872) was the youngest son of Hugh Shopland (1767-1843) and his second wife, Margaret Martin.  Samuel arrived in America on the 15 June 1849 on the ship "Wellington" and embarked in New York.

These two articles were printed in "The Scranton Weekly Republican" newspaper dated July 1872.
OBITUARY

"A cable dispatch announced the death Monday of Mr. Samuel Shopland of this city.  The intelligence was a greater shock to his friends because they were not aware of his illness.  Mr. Shopland died in England, the land of his birth, whither he said about the first of May in company with his wife, Mr. and Mrs. C. P. Matthews, and Mrs Emma Pearce.  He left here in his usual health and in full expectations of returning this fall, but has been stricken down in the prime of life, and a further career of usefulness suddenly cut short.  Mr. Shopland was born at Bradstow (Bridestowe), Devonshire, England, September 23, 1817.  He went to London in 1835, and in 1845 came to America and located in Honesdale.  He moved to Scranton about 1854, and commenced accumulating the competency he afterwards enjoyed.  He was a genial companionable man, of strong personal attachments, free-hearted and generous to all in whom he was interested.  He once occupied a seat in our select City Council, to which he was unanimously elected from the Eighth Ward.  He was public spirited, possessed shrewd business qualifications, and was generally esteemed and popular with all classes.  His remains will be brought home by Mr. Matthews for burial: green be his grave".

THE LATE SAMUEL SHOPLAND
Funeral services Wednesday.

The funeral services of the late Samuel Shopland took place Wednesday afternoon at two, at the house and at three at St. Luke's Church.  The Rev. Philip Krone, of Lock Haven, delivered the address at the house, and remarked during its delivery that he had not been so deeply affected for the last eighteen years, since the death of his father as he was when he heard the sad intelligence of the death of Mr. Shopland.  A large number of people were gathered in the church.  As the solemn procession moved down the aisle, the officiating clergyman, Rev. Mr. Marple, read the customary service, as prescribed by the ritual of the Episcopal church, and Mr. N. A. Hulbert placed a dirge on the organ.  After the relatives and friends were seated, a quartette, consisting of J. D. Fuller, Chas. Dermann and wife, and Miss Eliza Chase, sang a beautiful anthem, accompanied by Mr. Hulbert on the organ.  Rev. Mr. Marple then read a portion of Scripture, from Paul to the Corinthians, and after singing by the choir delivered the following discourse:

'Three months ago I went, as some others also went, to the railroad station in this place to take leave of a company of friends starting out for a distant land - a land far away across the deep waters of the Atlantic.  The leave-taking was by no means sad.  The possibility of calamity was doubtless felt.  But against this possibility there was the apparently bright promise of improved health, enlarged knowledge, and fresher springs of joy.  And so as we said good-bye our voices were not choked, but clear - not sorrowful, but jubilant.

Night before last, I went to the same "station", and awaited the coming of the friends to whom months before I had said "I wish you good luck in the name of the Lord".  We had rejoiced with them that did rejoice, and now we were called upon to weep with them that wept, for the familiar face of one of the travelers was covered by the shroud into the coffin.  His body is here.  But he himself did not come to us again.  He had gone to that country from whose bourne no traveler returns.

Samuel Shopland, in whose memory this funeral service is held, died sixteen days ago at Torquay, in England, after an illness of several weeks.  The immediate cause of his death was disease of the heart.  He was hopeful of recovery.  Besides, he was fearful of exciting the anxiety of dearly loved ones on this side of the water.  It must have been with no slight bodily effort that he wrote to them, only ten days before his death, and spoke of his sickness as a temporary trouble from which he expected relief.  But relief did not come.  His bodily strength declined, and the solicitude of his friends grew apace.  One day, about a week before his final departure, he suddenly fell to the floor.  He might then have quickly passed away but for the fact that a skilled attendant was at hand, who, assisted by devoted ones, wrought intelligently and successfully for the maintenance of life.  The danger of that critical hour was overcome, but the power of disease had not been mastered.  Then, as if realizing in some degree the serious nature of his sickness, he expressed a desire to reach the land of his adoption, where far the greatest number of his friends and relatives abide.  He had expected some years of quiet enjoyment with friends and relatives.  Then he longed for the few weeks that would suffice to restore him to his home here; and then he learned that in a few days the doors of the home beyond would open to receive him.  His physician - the Lord bless a profession so beneficient and so self-sacrificing - was another St. Luke, "a beloved physician", who could minister to the  body and to the mind.  He not only informed his patient that his health was not such as to justify any expectations of a return to America, but he addressed to him words of Xtian guidance, consolation and hope.  About 6 o'clock on Monday morning, July 18th, the great change came, and it came suddenly.  Strong arms were near to raise and support the dying man.  He died calmly, conscious of the preciousness of human friendship, and of a Divine Saviour's forbearance and love.

Samuel Shopland was for several years a vestryman of St. Luke's Church, and as such he assisted in the careful administration of its affairs.  He was one of the Vestry, that, more than nine years ago, united in extending a call to me to accept the Rectorate of this Parish.  The position I occupy, I occupy partly through his instrumentality.  As his old Pastor I lament his death - the death of a man possessing public spirit, integrity, warmth of heart, and a devout trust in a "Divine Redeemer".
It was in accordance with his own request that his remains were brought to this country for interment.  He died in the land of his birth.  He is buried in the land of his choice.  Some may have wondered at the sentiment which inspired the 'wish'.  The sentiment is founded on nurture and has manifested itself time and again.  When the Patriarch Joseph died, we read in the book of Genesis that "he took an oath of the children of Israel, saying God will surely visit you and ye shall carry up my bones from hence". -Gen.50:25.  Years afterwards they took his embalmed body with them, and at last deposited it - not in the cave of Macpetab; where his ancestors , Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were entombed - but in Sheehem, where the two powerful tribes, Ephriam and Marasseh, the descendants of the sons of Joseph, received their portion and gathered around their great father's remains.  The dead Joseph lived on in the recollections of those who were bound to him by the sacred ties of relationship.

The instinct of life which has been given to us manifests itself in various ways.  We desire not only to add to the number of our years, but to perpetuate our memory.  That we should be at once forgotten, would cause a pang to each and every one of us.  We would live in the affectionate remembrance of friends, relatives, and descendants.  The graue (?) that is among strangers is beautified with no flowers, is hallowed with no tears.  The graue (?) that is among those who bear a true and tender affection towards the one whose remains are placed beneath this grace tells us not of oblivion but of a friendship that lasts, of an affection that is undying.

We find a representation of that life which we now love on the earth in that Father of the faithful who went out not knowing whether he went.  We begin the day, and are unable to tell what its revelations will be.  We enter upon some plan or scheme, and are quite ignorant of the mysterions openings through which it will lead us and others to the most unexpected discoveries.  We start upon a journey, it may he with doubt and dread, and not one of our forebodings is realized, or it may be with the brightest anticipations, and the result is, that disappointment awaits us at every turn, and the most substantial of our visions are as deceptive as the miriage which looms up before the wearied traveler.  We go hither and thither, and the realities which we would fain grasp prove to be a phantasm and the intenser life we sought resolving itself into the shadow of death.

We know not whether we go, but there is nevertheless a Divine hand guiding us; our steps are not without a purpose; our life is not without a plan and destiny.  It is God who guides us, though we know Him not; guides us as He did Cyrus, the Persian King, to run the race which is set before us.

Uncertainty allures us and tempts us to action, when otherwise our powers would be dormant.  The child with untutored sight sees an object that is beyond its reach, and having no adequate measurement of distances, it seeks to grasp which it cannot touch.  It is surprised, disappointed and grieved.  And is that all?  Far from it.  Why, it is thus learning to adjust itself to the new relations of that marvellous world into which it has been introduced.  And when you can explain the mystery of life than we can unfold all the results of such attainments.

We are as that child.  "If the child is father to the man, what are men but children of a larger growth?"  It is not what we have that contents us.  As long as there are possibilities of our being not yet realized, we cannot but be restless.  Something within us will ever be saying as Jesus said to the Disciples, "Arise, let us go hence".  We must go on and on.  The goal of life, where is it?  Abraham did not reach that goal, when he abode in Canaan; not when he sojourned in Egypt; nor when he was buried in the cave of Macpetab.  Man is a stranger upon the earth from which he sprang.  His home is not here.  But all the parts of the existence now enjoyed have their indelible relationships with our Heavenly Father's home - a home which is co-existensive with the limitless boundaries of space.  The great prophet and leader of God's people only saw the land towards which he had struggled with passionate earnestness for forty years.  He was not permitted to go over Jordan and he could not change the divine determination.  He had lived long and achieved much, and yet experienced the keenest disappointment - a disappointment  which with all the power of importunate prayer, be sought to avert.  Was his life a failure - was all the experience of his eventual career lost because he did not enter the promised land?  He work was done.  Others were called upon to endure the heat and burden of the day.  And he was to enter into kingdom compared with which Canaan was poor and meagre.  And he entered it with a nature, disciplined-strengthed and exalted by the dealings of the Lord our God with him.

Continued as we are, "pilgrims passing on but never fully attaining" life, cannot but be, in one sense, a series of disappointments.  "You may tell the man who has received the heart shock, from which in this world he cannot recover, that life has nothing left, yet the stubborn heart still hopes, on, ever near the prize - wealthiest when most undone."  And this hope is not to be discouraged, for it is the indication that somewhere there is the fullest provision for all the wants of man's wondering nature.  In our Fatherís house there is bread enough and to spare; bread which will strengthen man's soul; bread in the eating of which we shall live forever.  It is Jesus who says "I am the bread of life;" "I am the living bread which came down from heaven; if any man eat of this bread he shall live forever.  The bread which I will give is my flesh; which I will give for the life of the world."

The following named gentlemen acted as pall-bearers:  J. C, Burgess, H. B. Pierce, W. W. Winton, W. N. Monies, Geo. Dickson. M. H. Dale, E. P. Kingsbury, Thomas Orchard, Thomas Lyddon, Jacob Bryant, S. G. Oram, and Judge Howells.

The remains were followed to the cemetery by a long train of those who mourned the loss of the departed, either as relatives, friends or fellow-citizens.
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