Married James Walling, the second son of Hoseah Walling. James Walling was a brother of Sarah Walling who married William Gordon, a brother of Patsy Gordon. They lived near Grapeland, Texas and had children: Amanda, Robert, Hosea, Elisha, Richard, Elizabeth, Sarah Jane, Joseph, and Davison "Dave." Davison Walling had a son living in Grapeland, Texas.
1860 United States Federal Census about Wm Killen
Name: Wm Killen
Age in 1860: 59
Birth Year: abt 1801
Birthplace: North Carolina
Home in 1860: Beat 11, Rusk, Texas
Gender: Male
Post Office: Bellvue
Household Members: Name Age
J W Sykes 26
Eliza Sykes 22
Thomas Sykes 2
Wm Killen 59
Julia Killen 17
Mrs. Zuleika Cullers
1401 S. Cornwall
Yukon, OK 73099-5501Memoirs Written by Laura Gordon Coker, 1956-1957 (when she was past eighty)
LAURA'S STORY
Chapter I
My father, George Washington Gordon, was born June 8, 1849 near Luray, Clark County, Northeast Missouri. He had lived for several years in Illinois and Iowa before he came to Texas with his parents to Lamar County in 1868, settling five miles west of Paris on the Paris and Bonham Road. They improved their farm and saw their children leave one by one for the adventures of making homes and rearing and training families of their own in their turn, as God designed that they should, to fulfill their purpose in this life.
In 1871 George too decided that he was ready to start out to face the world and find what was in store for the labor of his hands. His father gave him a span of good mules and harness and a new wagon fitted out with extra side boards, feed box, spring seat, sheet and bows. He was healthy and strong and a willing worker.
George decided to go to visit his Uncle Dave Gordon of Houston County, Texas, whom he had never seen. His uncle hired him and he joined up with the other workers. They all liked him as the new addition to the working forces. His uncle had two stepsons still at home. He had married the widow Martha Mobley who had six children and owned land adjoining his farm. She had lost her husband near Corinth, Mississippi before the Civil War--- to be exact, it was in August, 1857. While there, George visited an Aunt Polly Pennington, a sister to his father and to his Uncle Dave also, and her husband, Uncle Dick, who had several children to company with.
As time went on, while he was in the home and working, he became infatuated with Miss Mary Jane Mobley, the charming stepdaughter of his uncle. They were married in her home on December 7,1871.
His cousin, Henry Pennington, had gone with him to Crockett, the county seat, after his license and he went to his Aunt Polly's to get ready for the great event, and in his haste, no excitement of course!, he laid has license under a pillow and never thought of it again until the minister asked to see it!! I can hear him now, in imagination, exclaim, "Lord bless my life"!, as he so often did a11 through his long and useful life.His cousin Henry rode a mule the four miles back home after the license "while the parson waited." Miss Mary's mother and Uncle Dave gave them a big supper and dance to celebrate the happy occasion. Her mother gave her $125.00 to buy herself a sewing machine and Uncle Dave paid George for his several months work and they went to his parental home for Christmas. His father asked them to stay with them, which they did the first year of their married life.
They bought cows with their money and bought the sewing machine later from the increase. Two better workers were never hitched together than my parents were, but Papa insisted on managing the business and made many bad moves --- always hunting a better farm, more grass or something different---always trying to better themselves.
He rented land to farm a good part of the time and did well, but always wanted something better and craved a nice home of his own.Andrew was born October 3, 1872 while they lived at Grandpa's. They farmed near his parents the next year (1873) and enjoyed visiting each other. The next year (1874), Uncle Joe Little, a half brother, persuaded Papa to come to him in Northeast Missouri and farm with him and made him a most wonderful proposition to help him buy land and own a home.. . .
Lewis was born on December 29, 1874 near Luray, Missouri. Papa never liked the idea of going into debt. It was terribly cold up there, and after two years, they went from there to Denton County, Texas. His parents visited them there. Andrew borrowed Grandpa's pocket knife one day and got up into the wagon. He had a new hat that they had brought him and he cut it full of holes. On being questioned as to why he did it, he said that he "was trying to see what it was made of." He was about 3 1/2 years old.
Chapter II
Papa rented a farm nine miles northwest of Denton January 1, 1876 from the Bob and Crowe Wright brothers on Bitter Creek, two miles southeast of Boliver. I was born on April 4, 1876, the first year we were there, but in the home of mother': parents near Grapeland in Houston County, Texas. The first thing I remember was a visit we made to Uncle Mat Mobley's in the late summer of 1878. Their baby was only two weeks old and Luther, four years old, started to take her off the bed to show her to us and I thought he would drop her and kill her. I suppose I was so scared was the reason I remembered, for I was only 2 1/2 years old. Aunt Pamelia died when Mattie was six weeks old. George and Luther were kept by Papa and Mama while Uncle Mat was gone to take the children to his mother's. All the little boys were playing around the sorghum mill. Someone was pushing the sweep that turned the big iron rollers that ground the juice out of the cane. George got his right middle finger between the rollers which burst the finger---and how Mama doctored and bandaged it for him. He was always such a sweet person, and that finger stayed flat the 22 years he lived. I never will forget how sorry I felt for him and how the finger bled, and how Papa petted him when he came home.
When Uncle Jim and Aunt Addie Gordon visited us, Mortimore and my brothers played all over the threshing machine and all of us waded in Bitter Creek; I dipped and poured with a tiny white china pitcher that Myrtle brought to me. That creek was the most beautiful place I have any recollection of.
Aunt Addie was teaching where they lived and told how she had to sit up nights to keep ahead of her algebra class. The rocks were so big and flat. Mama washed on the bank and would stand on those rocks and rinse clothes in the creek.
Some of us had chills and fever while in Denton County. Papa had a hard time making crops and keeping cattle from eating them up while we were sick.
My mother was born Mary Jane Mobley in Lawrence County, Mississippi to
Harvey and Martha Thames Mobley on April 3, 1854 on their farm near Corinth on the Pearl River in Mississippi where her father died in 1857. The widow being left with five sons; Jeff, James, Andrew, Monroe, and George and two daughters, Mary and Laura.Jeff, at the tender age of 17 years, volunteered his services under the command of General Hood, Tennessee Regiment, in 1861 and was killed in action near Franklin, Tennessee in one of the last battles fought in the Civil War.
Grandmother sold out and came to Texas, crossing the Mississippi River in a ferryboat in 1855 and located in Houston County between Grapeland and Crockett where she bought land and, with her children's help, made a home. After having lived a widow for 14 years, she married a Mr. David Gordon who was an uncle to George Gordon who, in later years, became my father. Mr. Gordon's farm and that of Mrs. Mobley's joined. She sent her children to school at Daly's in their district. The Daly’s store had a post office for 10 years or longer.
My parents were ambitious, honest, energetic, truthful and upright in all of their dealings and taught their children the principals of right living all of their lives and "practiced what they preached." They taught us that "If a man's word wasn't of any account, he wasn't either."
We were taught to work and to do it well, and if we couldn't get a good job, to take the next best and to practice thrift and economy, make the most we could out of everything we undertook and that cleanliness was one of the first essentials toward healthy living. To have courage and faith and hold our heads up if we tried hard.I am indeed very grateful to my parents for all of their struggles, sacrifices, what they taught us in the way of democracy, and patriotism. They have instilled deeply into our minds the principals of true religious worship which, after all, is the main thing that counts in this life.
We were taught to do whatever our hands found to do. Adversities are usually stepping stones to something better. No matter how big the obstacle seems, it will disappear into the dim past. Poverty taught us how to be thrifty. Poor health taught me to build up my body with the proper food, exercise and rest in order to have a normal resistance to disease. Disappointments have taught me to pray. One of the greatest blessings God has given us is the ability to learn; ordinarily I stay too busy to be lonely.
I have memories of Mama telling us how she helped seed cotton by hand during and after the Civil War. Her mother carded the cotton into rolls, spun into thread, and wove into cloth for clothing and bed clothes for her family, making dye from barks and berries of different kinds from the woods. The family kept enough sheep to furnish wool for the suits, blankets, shawls, and to knit sox and stocking for the family and bought flax for her sons' "best" summer suits and were sewn with homemade thread which just lasted "always". The blankets were left natural color. Mama wove homespun blue and white for herself a dress when she was eleven years old. I saw my own mother shear sheep (once while Papa was ill), wash, card, spin, dye, and knit sox and stockings for every member of her family. She used Diamond dye and set the colors with vinegar.
I remember how the little boys gathered locusts in Mama's milk bucket and left them in the yard in the shade, and how they sang!
The first time I ever saw Aunt Willie Mobley she was making biscuits in a long wooden bread tray. Maria had two aunts who were considered wealthy and who gave Mama and Aunt Laura the only silk dresses they had when they were children.Mama took a wagon and team and the Elliot girl's produce, as well as her own chickens, eggs, and butter to Decatur to do some "trading", as we called it then. We would say we paid a "shilling" a yard for this piece, a "bit" a yard for that piece, six pence for that, "two bits" for another and "four bits" for the other. A lot of people I know never heard of paying a shilling a yard for so and so.
They did not have factory made thread plentifully those days. "O.N.T.", the trademark appearing on spools of thread, meaning "Our New Thread", was first used in 1862 by the Clark Thread, Company which had developed a thread suitable for both hand and machine sewing. Sewing machines were just coming into general use. Shortly after, the phrase was abbreviated to O.N.T. to stimulate curiosity. The trademark appears today on all Coats and Clark threads.When we got a pair of shoes, they were packed down tight (without any kind of wrapping) into barrels or big wooden boxes and were tied in pairs by a cord run through the "spurs" and tied. Many of them had brass toes and there was no right and left. They were alike and Papa was careful to watch us so that we changed often and would not wear them out in one place before we did the other. I never wore a pair of brass "toed" shoes but my brothers did, and I have the most precious picture of my husband, John Kenner Coker, who had on brass toed shoes in his first picture made when he was a year old or less. I wouldn't part with it!
I don't remember all that was purchased on that trip to Decatur, though it was a memorable one. On the way down, we children got tired during the long hot drive---took most of the day as I recall. Lewis stood up and looked as far as he could see and said, "I believe I see Decatur." We felt encouraged and hoped he did. Andrew asked him what it looked like. He said, "It looks like a grove of horses." We camped on the edge of town, watered and fed the team, and "staked" them out as we had taken "stobs" and "lariats."
I saw my first jersey cow in Decatur. We had our bedding and provisions and camped out the first night and were late in getting started the next afternoon. We intended to drive home that night as the "dear old moon" was at its best and so big and round and high and bright. It came up a rain cloud and in spite of haste, we were caught in the rain. It had begun to rain when we got to a nice farmhouse where they took us in hurriedly, and made us welcome and comfortable through the night. The man and boy helped Andrew take care of the team and the lady and big girl helped get us children and the new dry goods we had purchased into dry quarters.
The Elliot sisters helped all they could and those people have been thought of very kindly all of my life. We ate breakfast and went the extra miles we were from home. There's always been good people "living by the side of the road to be a friend to man," God bless them all.Kenner said the first time that he was ever in Decatur that a goat was walking a ledge around the top of the court house! (Decatur was the county seat of Wise County, Texas with a court house three stories high.) We could see it when we were miles away but not after we got to town. When we were west of town, the sun shone against the windows and we saw the reflection several miles away.
Chapter III
Once when Papa was 18, he was freighting with three yoke of oxen. A terrible rain came on him, raising the streams, then turned violently cold. The north wind rose and turned to a blizzard. Night came on. His heavy load and muddy road retarded travel. He drove into a stream not knowing how deep nor how swift it was. Soon his cattle were all swimming. They finally got across but were so cold and wet all over that they became unruly. He said while his clothing froze on him, he uncoupled them and loosed them from the wagon, turning two yoke of them loose. He saw a lamp light in the distance and drove one yoke toward it, holding to their tails. When he finally reached the farm home, he could scarcely make them understand his plight. The kind people did everything possible for him---had to thaw his clothes before they could be removed. They put dry clothing on him and put him between two feather beds to try to stop his chilling, and saved his life. He thought this a bare escape. He said he got so deathly sick when he began to get warm. He loaded his wagon at Springfield, Illinois but doesn't remember where he was taking it. That was in the winter of 1867-1868. He was healthy and strong as a lion. Said the walking and bouncing that he did while holding the tails of his oxen was just enough exercise to keep him from freezing to death that awful night.. The other two yoke of cattle were so tangled up and almost frozen when he went after them. I wish I could know that farmer.
Another narrow escape he made was in 1885 when he came so near getting drowned in the main Brazos River, west of Graham (think between Archer and Young Counties), while crossing on a young gelding during a rainy spell. Papa wore a slicker with big pockets, also high top boots. His saddle had large saddle pockets. When he got out near the main channel of the river, his steed got into quick sand. He lunged and plunged with all his might and main, trying to get out, but seemed for a time to be getting deeper. Slicker pockets, boots, and saddle bags were all full of water and Papa could not swim a stroke, else he would have gotten off the horse. He said he realized that death was so near to him and prayed to God to spare his life. The strong, active horse finally pulled himself loose from the jaws of death and swam out in the right direction. I can well remember this incident and know that Papa had stronger faith in God ever afterward.
Chapter IV
Andrew wanted to get into the wagon where two hired boys were unloading corn. They told him that they could cut his ears off, but he climbed on a wheel and stood on the brake while Lewis and I ran, so scared, to tell Mama that those big boys were going to cut Andrew's ears off. We didn't know any better than to believe what we heard. She said “they didn't mean it." I sure loved my brothers. I thought she ought to watch those boys. We stayed close to Mama and watched about Andrew. To think of that now---it seems that we were mighty little then---really, it was 78 years ago.
Once when a heavy hail storm caught Lewis out herding sheep, Andrew went to his rescue and found he had taken refuge in a grove of large oak trees with his shepherd dog and all sheep in safety.
How deeply I was affected when Mama gave my bleached, lace trimmed waist, panties, and underskirt for a little girl to be buried in. I was consoled when Mama told me that she would make me some more. I was five years old then.
I remember when Mama played the accordion and sang sentimental and spiritual songs including "Mollie Darling" and "There's No Place Like Home," which were Papa's favorites, and "Little Brown Jug" for Andrew and Lewis.
I remember when I gathered yellow wax beans for Mama to sell. She got herself a New Testament and parasol; and for me, my first fan. How happy I was!
I remember Mrs. Beckham gave me my first chicken, a speckled pullet, when I was five years old.
I remember seeing my father "cradle" wheat. Later he bought a Buckeye Down Binder. Tanning deer hides of which Mama made buckskin mittens for him. Making feed baskets, ax handles, ox yokes, bows, plow tongues, double trees, single trees, spade handles, scoop, shovel, pitch fork handles, and cultivator pins. ...
I remember Mama read the Bible to us and taught us to sing. Of her making "salt rising" bread, curling our hair, quilting, etc. I loved my brothers' pigeons. How we "chinked" the rail fence to keep the geese from eating early corn and gardens up.
I remember my brothers herding sheep and gathering pecans, building a little chimney and fireplace of white stone where they fried eggs and served meals to four little sisters while Mama sewed. Gathering plum blossoms for Mama on her birthday when she had measles and gathering live Oak acorns and plums in the fall.When we disturbed a bumblebee's nest and had to seek refuge in other quarters.
I remember my brothers herding sheep and gathering pecans, building a little chimney and fireplace of white stone where they fried eggs and served meals to four little sisters while Mama sewed. Gathering plum blossoms for Mama on her birthday when she had measles and gathering live Oak acorns and plums in the fall. ... When we disturbed a bumblebee's nest and had to seek refuge in other quarters.
I remember Fannie and I going with Papa to Jack County after our seed wheat and one of his horses died. A friend loaned him a mule to drive home. We each had a new dress to wear, also new roach combs. Mrs. Craig gave me a beaded hair net and Mama put it in a pie pan and burned the net and strung the beads for me. I thought they were so pretty! ...
I remember Papa petted me and I would hold a plank when he bored a hole in it. I loved to help him when I could.
My paternal grandfather was past age to be drafted into the Civil War but tanned leather and made shoes for his large family and all the neighbors.
Once while Ivy and Annie were playing on ice on a tank, both had on little red-top boots. Annie walked into a hole in the ice that had been cut for sheep to drink. She spread her arms, which kept her from going through and Ivy held onto her while I ran and told Mama, who lifted her out and told us we would drown if we got into the water. Annie asked "would she die before Papa could get home?" ... Fannie was up in a tree but almost fell out of it. I was below the dam making a play house.It was sometimes hard to cope with the many and varied circumstances that we would find ourselves confronted with. Sometimes caring for a sick child in camp or losing a horse on the road; but a solution was always found to our most difficult predicaments. The worst of all calamities we ever had was nearly perishing for water once when traveling. The creeks and wells had gone dry.
I remember when Papa bought me a side-saddle. I'll tell you how---Andrew gave $25.00 in cash and Papa, a beautiful blaze-face cow. I remember when I gathered eggs from setting hens before Mama got around to marking them and bought myself a new dress for the first celebration of the opening of the Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservations to settlement. How we sisters rode our horses in a gallop, trot or lope with either bridle and saddle or cirsingle, blanket, halter, or just an odd length strap or calf rope. In those "pioneer days," we helped to "work the roads."
Chapter V
In January, 1880 we moved to the Jim and Joe Ventchner farm on Crooked Creek, 12 miles east from Grafton in Jack County. Papa bought a herd of sheep and hired Charlie Turner to help care for them ‘til Lewis got big enough to follow them. The Ventchners were cattle men and the three Craig Brothers ---Jess, Jim, and Sam--also were stock people. A family consisting of a brother, D. K. Elliot, and sister Fannie and Amanda, lived on the place real near to us. They kept Fannie a lot and were at our house a lot when D. K. could not be at home nights while on a "round up." They had a brother, Olliver, who had a family. Bird Craig, a son of Jess Craig's, herded sheep for Papa. The Choice family also lived near us and their daughter, Lidia, was my age. All were nice neighbors.
Papa built on the pasture land which was called "Free Range." He had all the farming land along the creek. It was fenced with "worm" rail fence with "stakes and riders." We raised fair crops the first year; then it turned dry as could be the second year. When the creek ran dry, Papa and Mr. Bill Parr dug several wells in the creek bed, but no water.
Once a hog fell into one of the wells. Lewis found her but I don't know how they got her out---I guess, like Papa sometimes said, "By main strength and awkwardness."The first church service that I have any recollection of ever having attended was a protracted meeting at Burton Springs, northwest of where we lived on the Ventchner Farm in 1881. The minister preached vehemently about a place for those who were not good. A baby cried terribly and its mother carried it away among lots of wagons and teams until I heard it no more. I felt deep concern about what became of the baby. I didn't understand much, but did listen. We went in a wagon with a quilt spread for us children to sit on. Liffie Harding, a neighbor girl, put her little chair in and went with us. ...
..Burton Springs was toward Post Oak from us, where the widow Bunch lived. When she had some hogs running out living on the "mast", a group of crooked men got them up and were going to beat her out of them. Kenner's Uncle Polk Coston went to her rescue and helped her keep every one of them. ...
Mama would pin our bonnets to our hair so we couldn't take them off. She came in one day when I was about to take a teaspoon full of Laudanum for my stomach ache! That would have been my last one! ...
When Grandma brought Mattie to visit us, she brought Mama a beautiful quilt of appliquéd tulips. ...
Once Mama took us children to visit the Elliot sisters. They made a cobbler of plums that they had weighted down in a 15 gallon keg and covered with boiling water and tied heavy cloths over it. They kept perfectly, but were not soft when they "canned" them.Andrew, Lewis and I went to school to Mr. James Harrison Timberlake in New Port Clay County, Texas during the Winter of 1882-1883. Mr. Timberlake was a fine young man and splendid teacher and had the nicest school closing exercises that I have ever seen---with public examinations and exhibition with dinner on the ground and entertainment at night.
The Perkins Timberlake Company is the dry goods firm with headquarters in Wichita Falls, Texas. They have stores at Decatur, Vernon, Electra, Bowie, Haskell, Olney, Seymour, Texas and Frederick, Oklahoma. I received a nice long letter from E. P. Timberlake, a son of my teacher in 1948. ...
...Papa bought the Vaughan farm near New Port where we moved January 1, 1882.
Once Papa was taken violently ill with indigestion and Mama sent me to the field, where Andrew was plowing corn with a little Georgia stock plow with one horse, to tell him to go to New Port after Dr. Whitaker or Dr. Baker either one. We knew them both. He unbuckled the hames, then had to get on a stump to unfasten the collar, and stripped the harness off so fast. I had left the bars down by the well and he rode Old Kate as fast as she could go those 3 l/2 miles through dry hot sand. I got to the house long before Dr. Baker rode up to our front yard gate on a very large, fat bay horse and a Pancake saddle. Dr. Baker was very short and very fleshy. I wondered if he would have to stand on the rail fence to get on his horse. ...
...There was a style-block at most every house where ladies got on their Once again a hog got into our smoke house and turned the spigot on our sorghum. Gold as it was. it had trickled across the cow lot and down the hill among the rocks. Lewis found it out while "holding calves" for Mrs. Long while she was milking. Mrs. Long was Mama's housekeeper while Ivy was a tiny baby. She promised Andrew one of Old Queen's puppies and Papa got him when he took her home. We were all so proud of him, for he was a beautiful black curly shepherd with white feet, face, and white neck. He was kind and a nice watchdog and began going with Lewis to herd sheep when quite small. ...
Miss Pamelia Sutton was the first teacher Andrew and Lewis ever had.
We had seldom heard of a funeral. A hearse had passed and Lewis told me in his excitement more about it when he and Andrew came home. It was more than I could believe! Silk fringe and tassles, glass windows and doors, and silk shades, etc., with a man riding outside to drive! ...
... Lewis was a close observer. He always took notice but could not always express himself as he wished; but, generally he "put the idea over." Ivy was born November 7, 1880. ...
Andrew admired the little girls at school who wore bangs. And, so, he tried to improve upon my looks. Poor me!! I thought I was so homely I almost despised myself. After breakfast, Mama went to milk Old Dunn and Brindle. Before he started to school he told me how pretty the little girls at school were who had bangs and prevailed upon me to let him fix me so I would look pretty too. I was sure Mama wouldn't consent to any such procedure, but I think I was much in favor of just almost anything that would improve upon my looks; so I agreed and he "banged" my hair. He reached for his little new tin dinner pail with a tin cup soldered on the lid for sorghum and butter and another tin cup with a handle that turned down to cover the other, and hurried away as fast as he could "to not be late to school,"---or maybe he didn't want to be there when Mama came in with the milk. She was so bewildered and heartsick to see how he had haggled my hair. She said it was ruined and why did I let him cut off my pretty curls? She would not let anyone comb it for fear they would break off some of it. I feared she would punish him for not asking her about it. I think she was a little in sympathy with his feelings and mine too. She talked to him and tried to show him that he had ruined my hair. He had tried desperately to make me look pretty but hopelessly failed. Andrew had confidence in his ability to do things, but sometimes his judgment wasn't the best. Though he had to do a man's work from a small boy, he never shirked or failed his responsibility. ...
When Andrew was nearly 9, Papa sent him to Crafton to mill with a wagonload of grain to have ground for feed. He sent a note to Mr. Wallace, the miller, who was a family friend! We all knew his family. Mr. Wallace was not at the mill that day, and in the afternoon Jasper, or "Mit," asked Andrew what he wanted and he gave them the note asking that they get busy and get him started toward home as soon as they could; but he did not get home until way into the night. Mama would walk down the road and listen and wait, then come home without any news. All of us were to be quiet while Papa would listen for the wagon wheels. Sometime prior to that date, a 14 year old boy had been scalped by Indians on his way home from school not far from where we lived. They were so uneasy about Andrew---Mama would go again to listen for her boy! Finally she said the wagon wheels announced his coming. She met them coning at slow speed. He had wound the lines around the handle of the dashboard and was lying on his sacks of feed and was fast asleep. Old Kate and Nellie were jogging along at their own leisure. ...
One day in the Spring of 1881, a "pretty common looking" old fellow rode up to our house and instead of coming to the front door to make his business horses. Everybody rode horseback. The ladies invariably rode sideways; they each a side saddle blanket, bridle. and a quirt. ... The doctor gave Papa some medicine that relieved him and I was relieved too. I was always so perturbed when Papa would get so sick and look like he would die. ... I watched the road through the heavy timber for Andrew and the doctor. The doctor said, "That little man rode fast going, but won't come home that way." ...
I remember Mama had a "hit and miss" carpet woven at Crafton, and how proud we children were when it was laid and tacked down. That was a four room house of hewn logs with a 12 foot hall running north and south. It was whitewashed inside and Mama kept the windows clean and bright and made long, bleached muslin curtains with ruffles all round. They looked so pretty. ..•The Beckham family harvested our sweet potatoes and late crop of beets. One beet was too large to go in our iron dinner pot, so Mama roasted it in the fireplace overnight. She could have cut off one side and long roots, but didn't want to "bleed the color" out. The largest sweet potato weighed more than seven pounds! We kept it all winter just to show to people. It was very irregular in shape too. ..
One night in the late summer of 1882, a neighbor came to tell Papa that Jimmie Tucker, 5 years old, was lost. His father had sent him to drive some goats out of the field in the afternoon and he never came back. They lived one half mile from us. Everyone who lived near was summoned to look for him. They searched the woods, hills, and fence corners all night long. The next morning at sunrise an old fellow came riding up with the dear little Jimmie riding behind him. He said, just before dark the little child came to his place, about 9 or 10 miles away from home and wouldn't talk; but he did tell them that he went to drive the goats out of the field. They tried every way and he finally asked Jimmie, "Whose hat is that you have on?", and he answered, "It's Bob's hat." The old fellow said that he had heard of an old man up in the hills who had a grown son named Bob and that he had some goats. •••
We lived near enough to each other in 1888 to visit in Indian Territory when they lived on "Nigger Prong" and we on "Wild Horse". Mr. John Bob Frensley of Velma said, "Wild Horse was only a colt" when he came to Pickens County, and "Cow Creek was only a calf." What was Pickens County in territorial days is Stephens County now and Duncan county seat.
Once when Miss Fannie Elliot was riding a horse to visit her sister, Mrs. Sam Craig, west of New Port, a large surley became infuriated and chased her horse as fast as he could carry his load. Mr. Col Bowman opened his gate so she could escape the animal's horns. She admitted that that was her worst scare!
Mama used a little wooden bucket, formerly a "paint barrel" which held about a gallon and had a bail like a well bucket and iron bands. She kept "Ash hopper" on "Drip lye" soap in it all the time to wash and use in the kitchen. Once she sent me to the smokehouse to get her some soap and I came so near falling into the barrel. ... She had an Ash hopper and made that kind of soap for several years. Some smokehouses had troughs. I have seen some made of hollow trees and some of heavy lumber with legs (like benches). These vats stood on legs against the wall and had board covers.
Papa sawed a fifteen gallon keg across the middle to make two keelers like little wooden wash tubs. They were so handy for foot tubs in our big family. Everyone wanted to wash his feet every night in summertime. We kept them on the back steps of the hall where the afternoon sun warmed them and were much better than water freshly drawn from the well which was one hundred feet deep and walled all the way with rock from a quarry two and one half miles away.Once Papa loaded his wagon with long muslin sacks of wool and went to Gainesville to market his "wares." When he came home he brought furniture --- two big bedsteads, a trundle bed, a rocking chair, six dining chairs, and the largest safe and cupboard combined that I ever saw, excepting the homemade type. We were all happy with his purchases. Miss Alabama Wallace stayed with us while he was gone. ...
Charlie Turner and Robert Dove helped take care of the stock while Andrew plowed cotton. Andrew drew water with a windlass. We all went with him and filled everything on the place. ...
Once Aunt Willie came to help Mama quilt. She was left-handed and could quilt so fast. We children cooked dinner. Laurinda made biscuits, Andrew fried meat, made gravy, and cooked okra. About the time that was all done, George and I began slicing tomatoes and dressing onions. Anyway, they bragged on us and laughed, too, at our procedure. ...
Sister Annie was born on September 1st, 1882, as the school term opened in New Port. We children loved so to go. The schoolhouse was near a small stream, heavily wooded and so beautiful. When the roses bloomed in the spring, the big girls would braid my hair at either side full of roses or hollyhocks.Chapter VI
So many things come to view as I look back over memories, pages, ... like once when I was watching some men corral some horses to brand them; and Ivy fell into a wash kettle full of rainwater setting by the house. I went screaming to pull her out, not knowing I could. Mama was right there to take her. ... When we children played in the wheat and Ivy got a grain in her ear. ... I remember well when my father would lace my shoes and button my clothes dawn the back. ...
Mama got some oil paintings and gave each of us two of them. I have mine yet, and framed---"The Evening Song" and "Moss Rose." Lewis's was the "Guardian Angel." Fannie's was a little girl feeding the birds.
... Andrew was so young t have to do a man's work. He was quick motioned and strong, but couldn't buckle a throat latch nor even put a bridle on a horse without standing on a wagon tongue or a stump. ...
An old man by the name of Purser got sick at our house while working for Papa. Andrew said he heard Lewis ask him, "Mr. Pusser, are you any wosser?" He was such a case, but I think he manufactured most of the stories he told on him.
Lewis always carried a memorandum in his pocket and knew about the new lambs everyday. He was a real businessman---"Sheep Man"---and was so little. Lewis claimed Arla Davis. Andrew said the book read something like this: "Monday, March 1st, 4 new lambs; Tuesday, March 2nd, 7 new lambs; Arla B. Davis; Wednesday, March 3rd, 13 new lambs. Arla B. Davis---Specializing in writing Arla B. Davis! He wrote a better hand as a child than the average grown person and could draw wonderfully well. He would have been punished if ever attempting to draw a picture at school. He never liked for Andrew to examine his memorandum, nor did Papa want him to, but wanted so to get a good laugh himself sometimes. ...• Uncle George and Aunt Addie Mobley visited us on their way to New Mexico in 1881 in late summer. ...
Lewis and I sewed cloth around corncobs for dolls and Mama would thread our needles. I would put dry sand in bottles for doll medicine. ...I once had the most beautifully clear marble streaked with every color. I found it in the yard, broken, when we came home from Papa's parents.
We children took turns at churning, which was always done right after breakfast before anyone had time to get "tired." Not one of the clan liked to churn and it was so easy to get "tired." We always churned while Mama did up the kitchen work, along with putting the milk away. ... "Always moving with delight, among her milk pans silver bright, while father, busy all the day, plowing corn or raking hay. We children just home from school set free, filling the garden with glee." These lines from the dear, old, McGuffey's Reader are so dear to me.
(I'm a member of "The McGuffey Readers Club.")
... First time I ever saw Papa smooth shaven---I always ran to meet him, but that time he looked so different. His voice was natural and I knew old Daisy, but it affected me so. He always took me up on his horse to ride with him, but I didn't want to that time. ...
Mr. Jim Craig and Miss Fannie Elliot were married and bought our farm.
In the spring of 1883, Papa drove a team out to Young County and bought a quarter-section of pre-emption land west of Graham, the county seat near Eliasville on the Clear Fork of the Brazos River. Gage Creek ran diagonally across our farm. We moved to Young County in late summer. Left home the last week in August and were about 10 or 12 days "grazing" the stock through. Annie had her first birthday while on the way..
One day Mama told me to hold the lines of the team she was driving, which was hitched to a heavily loaded wagon, while she helped Papa and the little boys to get the cattle and sheep across a timbered creek and going down the road again. They were tired and hot and the cool shade was so inviting to them. She also told me to watch Annie, who was in a high "spring seat" beside me playing with the wash pan, trying to put it on her head, Guess I became more absorbed in the performance of getting the stock straightened out than I was in watching my own business; and, all of a sudden, Annie fell clear to the ground, holding fast to the wash pan, and landed on her head in it. We were all frightened terribly, but she never seemed to be hurt in any way. She did cry a little, but it seemed more from fright than hurt. I sure had neglected my post in one way.
Mama drew threads from red "oil" calico and embroidered pillow slips while the stock rested. She cooked every meal on the campfire. Our farm had almost all kinds of timber, including pecan, walnut, elm, oak, blackjack, live oak, some ash, and chittum wood. Farming land was all on the east side of the creek. ..Had the nicest place for a sorghum mill where Papa got a Mr. Davis to bring his mill and make molasses for us. ...We lived in the Eliasville School district, but there was no bridge on the river, so we had to walk three and one half miles to the Gage Creek School. Mr.. Ludwick was our teacher, but was sick and often absent two days out of a week. Sometimes it would be noon before he would get there. Our desks were just benches which had legs that stood out like legs on a "battling block," and it was hard to get around in the room: They did not have any backs either. The windows were wooden shutters. ... We had the coldest road, over prairie most all the way. On wintry days it was very dark, but that did not make much difference to us because we played outside most of the time anyway.
Once we were playing "Blackman" inside after the big boys had piled the seats against a wall, and "Dinky (Lula) Hughes was wearing the blindfold (a big red bandana), she fell sprawling into the fireplace which was just full of coals, embers, and hot ashes. She was pulled out at once and the only thing anyone knew to do for her hands (she sure was suffering terribly) was to pour the molasses and butter out of their cups (on the lids of their dinner pails) and apply biscuits that were buttered or had meat in them to ,try to exclude the air. One girl, I think it was Esther Russel, wrapped her apron around the poor suffering child's hands. Aenous and Ida took her home. It was near noon and the teacher had not yet come to school.
Before the term of 1884, the Gage Creek district built a new school house with eight windows, good homemade seats and desks, a long blackboard, and a big stage. During that term of school, Mr. E. E. Keller was our teacher.
I felt so sorry if Andrew or Lewis missed a word in our spelling class. Everyone was better in arithmetic than I was. I thought I'd never learn the multiplication tables. My brothers would try so hard to teach me, but I simply couldn't learn. One day the teacher said that if I couldn't say the "two's" the next morning, he would not let me have my recess. He was lenient at that. I had never had to stay in, nor been scolded, and that nearly killed me. Mama had tried before to help me. That night she took broom straws and broke them into little pieces so that I might learn them, and before too long, I was getting the "hang" of it. The next morning I was so happy I could scarcely get to school fast enough. I could say the "two's" before I went to sleep, and, with a little time, I could say all the tables. Long division was awfully hard for me, but, to be exact, arithmetic was all hard for me and I wanted to learn it most of all.The Free School system had not been perfected at that early date. So, educational facilities were still at a low ebb, especially in the sparsely settled western area of the state. We only had terms of three months length those days and we hated to miss a day. Bad weather never did stop us from school.
Once when the ice was very thick on the creek, we decided to "skate home." I was the only girl on our road, but I tried it. Charlie, Travis, and Harvey Nelson, Andrew and Lewis were having such fun skating and running on the ice till I fell and hurt my head so badly that I was too sick to walk or even stand. Night was coming on fast and it was so cold. Charlie, Travis, and Andrew were scarcely equal to the task, but had to carry me home. Since then I have tried to avoid being on ice; however, I think nothing is more beautiful than winter scenes. I have been so in love with them, especially those in color. I love so to look upon:
"General Andrew Jackson, the hero of New Orleans."
"Washington crossing the Delaware the evening previous to the battle of Trenton, 1776."
"Steamboats passing at midnight on Long Island Sound."
"Steamboat 'Isaac Newton,' the largest in the old or the new world."
"Bridal Veil Falls and Pioneer Cabin in Yosemite National Park."
"In the northern woods where they maple sugar in the early spring."
Once Ivy was sliding down a pine plank that the boys put through a panel of fence for a "see-saw" and she got a long splinter in her knee. It didn't bleed at the time but did hurt. Papa stropped his razor real good and dipped it into boiling water and cut along the splinter on top of it 'til they could pull it out. Then it did bleed. They bound it up in the blood with sugar and turpentine. It never even got sore and never put any water on it until it healed.
... Some of our friends at Eliasville were the Wiley Jones family, the Bill Donalds, Tom Donalds, the Daws, the Stewarts, the Ed Davis family, the DeLongs and the Longs. ...
We "chose up" and spelled down one Friday and "said speeches" the next. It was voted on and became the rule, as it was carried by a big majority. Some didn't want to give readings. Andrew thought he just couldn't, but memorized "Woodman Spare That Tree," and would try but cried instead. Mr. Keller was patient and kind to him and others. Mama took time to help and encourage him. He got so he really did well and enjoyed reciting poems. Lewis's favorite was "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck," but would shed tears while reading it.
We often had visitors on Friday afternoons who would participate in our activities. We soon learned who among the group were the best spellers and each wanted them on "our side." Lewis and I used to recite "A Child's Prayer" in unison. I loved to recite and learned many of the poems in The McGuffey's Readers.
... Mr. and Mrs. Steve Davis stayed at our house one night for he was helping Papa cradle wheat. Mr. Davis was called "Rock House Davis" because they lived in a rock house. ...
I used to climb upon a high stump to sing "Home Sweet Home" for Lewis evenings as he came in after sundown with the sheep, thinking he would think I could sing beautifully: I thought my singing was pretty! I doubt if he ever heard me through all the bleating and tinkling of the bells that filled the air.
... We had our best times around the kitchen fireplace where Andrew would roast lots of sweet potatoes and turnips in the fireplace by wrapping them in shucks dipped in hot water and buried in real hot ashes sprinkled with hot water; then lots of embers on top of that and coals on top. We had to wait a long time for them and then, after waiting another long time, we would watch him go into them carefully so as to not get ashes next to them. He seemed to always know just how to do it. He made molasses candy for us and popped corn. Sometimes we would eat our popcorn in sweet milk. We'd all make popcorn balls, but never learned the right technique. I knew how to cook black-eyed peas and lady peas in a big iron kettle. I usually did it in the fireplace and had to cook them so slowly for they "boiled down" so fast.
Chapter VII
We attended church at Eliasville. There is, however, a high steel bridge at the same identical place now. Mary stopped her car at the highest point on the bridge when she took me to visit at Eliasville in 1948 and made a picture of the old Tom and Bill Donald Brothers' Mill where my father had our wheat and corn ground for our bread and feed for his stock sixty-five years previously. ... Where massive Elm trees leaned over the water's edge, making the same beautiful picture to me that they had when I was a child. This trip brought a revival of many happy memories to my mind. The farm we sold had been resold to a daughter of an old friend who now lives in Fort Worth, Texas. There were 22 oil wells on the land. Improvements all gone---including house with three chimneys and fireplaces---and the timber all gone. ...
Once Andrew, Lewis and I attended a Christmas tree and school program at Eliasville. It was so nice. They always had nine month terms there. No doubt we could have been in the exercises had we been able to attend school in our "own" district. The night was cold but riding next to a horse's body and arms around Andrew, I didn't suffer. We forded the Clear Fork just below the Donald Mill and Dam. ...
One day we were playing by the road and a young man came riding by and halted to talk to Ivy who had gotten the greater share of beauty in our family. We all knew. We always saw him at church. He told Ivy that "she was his girl." She ran to the house so excitedly and told Mama that "Mista Bill Dawes said she was "his girl," brushing her curls out of her eyes with both hands like it would never do to forget a word of it, and talking so fast.
I can see her yet. Precious sister, so sweet and beautiful, but has long since departed from this life. We loved each other so dearly a11 of her life. She had a winsome smile. ...
No difference where we have seen fit to live, we have always had at least a few good neighbors. Our parents always said if we wanted a good neighbor, to take one with us, which is a good rule to go by. .
Ida and Lula Hughes invited me to spend the night with them, which I did. They were really in the hills and had a rock yard fence. Mr. Hughes was County Commissioner. They lived comfortably and the teacher always boarded with them. Aenas was the oldest pupil and I am sure he knew more than anyone else. I sure thought so. He was a good boy. The goats walked on the roof of their house. It sure annoyed me. ...
Neighbors often hitched the team to the wagon at night and trotted over to "sit 'til bedtime," which custom seems almost abandoned anymore.
... We children gathered the most beautiful pink daisies and brought them to Mama till we'd have all our goblets full. ...
In 1886, in Young County, Mrs. Cannaday and children, former neighbors in Jack County, spent a weekend with us near Old Fort Belknap. Then I went home with them and spent two or three days and learned to crochet. They were very nice people. ...
Andrew and Lewis went to haul a couple of barrels of water from the Brazos River and heard a terrible roaring. They decided they would drive out of the river bed and see what it was. They had barely driven out when a wall of water several feet high rolled down past them! We never knew why. We couldn't believe it had rained anywhere above us or anywhere near.... Eppie was born January 23, 1885 near Eliasville, Young County, Texas.
When Fannie was helping Mrs. Long with dishes, she dropped and broke six plates at one time. We didn't have six more either. She was too little to try such a big job. ...
... I felt sorry for Lewis when he had to wear my bonnet after he had the measles to protect his eyes from the light. ...
Miss Bill Long was the first caller we had after we moved to Young County. She brought her embroidery along. Papa hired Jonnie Gilfoil to clear five acres to "new ground" and he raised cotton on the ground. ...
Some blue razorback hogs nearly ate our corn crop up one year. I think they were wild and when we chased them, they jumped over the rail fence. They had the longest, sharpest noses. ...
We children had to help our precious mother while she cut, basted, notched, sewed, pressed, knitted, and washed in a wooden tub on a wooden board. I well remember when she got a number three zinc washtub and a "Brass King" washboard. She washed, combed, curled and braided hair for a group of little girls, cut hair for Papa and two boys; piecing, quilting, and helping everywhere work was to be done. The tasks seem almost innumerable that were hers. .. Cooking and making beds, which were not to be touched until night, excepting the trundle bed. ...I have a scar that I received while I was playing in the fire, after having been taught the dangers in it. When I told my mother, she said, "Well I sure am glad," and it almost broke my heart in two. I thought she didn't love me anymore. She said she warned me but I had to learn the hard way. Needless to say, I quit playing in the fire. I was four and one-half years old then. ...
When we moved, our dog became footsore. The skin came off of the bottom of his feet and we hauled him in the wagon. He was such a good watch dog. He was afraid of Negroes and would watch them with a cautious eye.
Here are a few of the names of the children we went to school with while in Texas: Aneous, Ida and Lula Hughes; William and Johnnie Hefner; Lee, Pearl, Will, Arla and Dillard Davis; Tom, John and Mollie Curtis; Lizzie, Esther and Daisy Russell; Stella and Eunice Ellis; Ada and Lunar Jackson; Davy Jones; Vina Stone; Horace and Pearla Akers; Larry, Chester and Fineley Pratt; Q., V., Alice and Mattie Long; Charles, Travis and Harvey Nelson; Mary and Theodore McCorcle; Cora, George and Ruth Daniels; Andrew, Lewis and Julia McNew; Laura and Lizzie Clark; Ema, Will and Perry Dawson; and the Roach girls. ...
Mr. Keller always asked us kindly not to laugh at the performance of others. He kept the best order with the least effort of anyone I ever knew. When the little children had any difficulties, instead of jerking them around and punishing them, he'd sit down and talk to them like they were his little brothers until they were repentant and said they were sorry. He would coax them until they were not mad at each other and said they loved each other. He always got things settled without anymore fighting and always "buried the Tommy Hawk" good and deep.
How I wish that I had kept "tab" on my dear teachers, for I liked them all. If a child had to be punished, the teacher did it according to his own judgment, knowing that the parents, their friends, school board, and county school superintendent would not all be in on him the next day for a "reckoning with him." Those days parents wanted their children to behave themselves and mind their teacher. Most parents controlled their children instead of pampering them all the time to get along with them. There were no open trials at school for the teachers when I was a child. Teachers didn't dread the parents of "spoiled brats"---no such procedure where civilized parents sent children to school.
When the county school Superintendent came to visit the school, he usually got in so quietly that I wonder if the teacher knew he was there till he would be seen. Then he would be introduced to the school and he would talk to the teacher, also pupils, always encouraging us to do our best and always hold our teacher in high regard. Time has wrought drastic changes as we see them today. Some for the better along various lines, but I always did and still sincerely believe in implicit obedience of children to their parents and teachers, and respect for the aged and others less fortunate than themselves. I believe in teaching by precept too, but from observation and experience. I surely believe that the most lasting and most efficient way to teach is by example. Just practicing in your daily living what you preach. Be sure to live as you would like for your children and neighbors to be."Hue close to the line" everyday. If all children were taught the fundamentals of right living from the cradle up, there would be many school fights stopped. ... I have said that if parents would teach babies while in the high chair, that most of them would escape the electric chair.
The only time that I remember of ever having seen the ordinance of foot washing, as a Bible command, performed was at our Gage Creek Schoolhouse when members of the Primitive or Missionary Baptist washed each others feet, as Christ washed the Apostles' feet. It was indeed a touching scene---so sacred and looked so perfectly like the Bible pictures that we had seen. It was a solemn ritual in that church.
... Ivy's way of playing with Ring, our dog, just her age, was to peck one foot 'til he'd move it and so on 'til he'd go lie down elsewhere. Sometimes she would follow and repeat the procedure but he never offered to bite her. ...
I expect the younger generation will wonder at this story, but it is a
true one. ... I began washing dishes after supper while my mother did the milking I had to stand in a chair with its back against the table. Mama would fix the dishwater for me and I would stand on the floor to dry the dishes, always the goblets first. Sometimes I would get through and lie down on the trundle bed and go to sleep. After she fixed water for me, she would put another kettle full of water to heat for the milk vessels.
Once Mama heard a disturbance---guess old Ring was barking ---and she lit the lantern and went to the sheep lot to see what was wrong. Guess it was a false alarm. We saw nothing unusual excepting every sheep was on its feet and facing toward the light---looked like a thousand eyes looking at us. I'll never forget that sight. Mama wasn't afraid of anything or anybody.Chapter VIII
In the Spring of 1884 Papa decided that he would take Mama and us children to visit her mother and other relatives where she had lived at the time of their marriage. He took her to town and bought new things for every member of the family, and lots of sewing had to be done. The dear neighbors came to help every way they could and took sewing home with them after Mama "cut it out." Papa had Johnnie Gilfoil hired and he cared for the stock and "laid the corn by," plowed, and hoed the cotton. A family by the name of Cannon came from Tennessee to visit their relatives that summer and came and stayed at our house , milked our cows, and shared our garden; roasting ears, etc. They were very nice people and loved our creek, hills, and woods. They had never seen so many wild flowers in their lives as they could gather everyday, and packed so many in their trunks to take home.Two young men in the group played guitars and harps so sweetly. We had a trip of pleasure for the most part, but had some frightful experiences too. Once, one of our horses came so near pushing its mate off a bridge. The banisters were gone and the creek was rising, and driftwood floating along. ...
We should have driven to Houston County in a week or ten days, I suppose, but it rained on us terribly---at least the last half of the trip across several counties, including all parts of Jack, Palopinto, Parker, Hood, Tarrant, Johnson, Hill, Ellis, Navarro, Stone, Leon, Freestone, Anderson, and perhaps Limestone, Walker, and several others. We were up and down the river from the northern part of Freestone County across Leon and to the southern point of Madison County, Texas.When we got to the Trinity River, the bridge was gone, water like a lake on both sides, and it rained on!! Instead of water going down, it rose steadily for three weeks "while we waited." We were within twelve miles of Grandmother's home. Finally, our parents decided to cross on a ferryboat, which they did. The boatman had rope tied from tree to tree until we got into deep water. The river was three and one half miles wide where we crossed. Papa helped the boatman wield the oars after we got into deep water. They unhitched the horses from the wagons by tying a horse at either side of the boat and put a halter on the colt and tied it by his mother and took the wagon sheet off of the bows and cautioned us children not to go too near the edge of the boat. We drove onto it at one o'clock p.m. and got off it at dusk late in May or early June of 1884.
One night we camped on the bank of a stream in a gin and mill yard. Mama cooked outside, but we slept in the engine room where everything was dry. It was still raining next morning, after pouring rain most of the night. Mama told Papa to get us out of there early as the creek was rising. He thought we should stay in the dry. At her insistence, he put the bedding in the wagon and said he would run up town on the hill and talk to some of the old timers, who said they had never seen the creek, so high before. Several came down to look at it and helped hitch our team to the wagon while we all piled in. In the meantime, Mama had decided we better go into the gin house upstairs. So we started! Mama carrying Annie and her arms full of things she gathered up ---Lewis and I leading Fannie in water knee-deep---Andrew was in the lead carrying Ivy who was nearly four years old. He stepped into a hole with water up to his neck and splashed all over Ivy---scared us all frightfully. Just at that time, Papa and those men arrived on the scene. They insisted that we go to one of their homes and, in our embarrassment, we went. They were so wonderful to us---sympathetic and kind---had us to eat dinner with them, as, in our haste and excitement, we failed to get our provision box. When the men-folks all went back to watch the creek rise beyond all former records, the mill house had washed away, leaving nothing except the big engine. By noon the creek bed had run down. Our chairs were on the far side hanging to limbs of trees, and our food and dishes and cook vessels were down the creek bed, some half buried in sand. My beloved little churn was half full of lard and half covered with sand. A jug of sorghum was found, also a slab of bacon. Most of our things were recovered, but I don't think the one-half sack of flour was found; and in those early days one never heard of buying a loaf of bread, however, we could get a pan of biscuits baked at a farmhouse by waiting a few minutes.
Finally, the sun shone and we "went on our way rejoicing"---or at least thankful that none of us were drowned. We crossed the Trinity River at Melvern, in Madison County. Every rail fence along the countryside was loaded with wild blackberry vines and they were all covered with fruit, both green and ripe, which we enjoyed so much. They were as nice as any tame ones I ever saw.
We reached Grandmother's house about noon the next day, which was Sunday. Grandmother had a colored woman helping her and had a nice dinner. One thing I remember she had on her table was blackberry pie. Before we got there, Papa said that the little boys would "gather some berries for 'mother'." They were thick on every rail fence. They gathered a cedar bucket full in almost no time at all.
Cousin Harvey Mobley came right after dinner. Uncle Andrew had been sending him everyday to see if "Sis" (her brothers and sisters called her "Sis") had gotten there. We sure enjoyed their nice big house. They had fireplaces upstairs and down, with two chimneys and four rooms and a fireplace in the old part of the house, There was a big hall between the four new rooms---all were painted white on the outside, with a blue trim. A wide porch ran across the south side, which was two full stories high inside. The front had eight rooms all together, with four rooms on the first floor and four on the second and a twelve foot hall between each room. The stairway was in this hall. There were eight rooms besides the old part. There were several steps and nice banisters. ...Then there was a wide, long porch west of the back part of the house. The well was on that porch and they drew water from it for the teams as they came at noon. Every mule was driven by a Negro man who plowed with a little "Georgie stock" plow. The water was poured into a long milk trough and ran out of that into a thirty foot trough across the back yard to a big tank where all were watered.
The garden was west and next to the house, and the orchard still west and north---had the nicest garden and peaches. Uncle Dave did his own work in his blacksmith shop by the smoke house. They had lots of black walnuts, and we children enjoyed eating them. They had worlds of flowers, as did most all white people and some Negroes. Everybody worked. Uncle Dave fed twenty Negro men at noon every work day in the week. Grandmother and a Negro woman and two colored girls did the work, the milking, churning and everything. Those working men came in nearly together and ate at one long table in the back hall. They had good food and lots of it. It sure took a lot. As soon as they had finished, that table was cleared, dishes washed, and table prepared by the colored women for the family to eat at our own leisure while the colored women ate in the kitchen. We often ate in the northwest room (dining room) of the new house. We always ate breakfast in the dining room, but it was cooler in the back hall, which was kept immaculate. No smoking went on there. They could have smoked, and maybe did, outside. Everything went on like clockwork. Grandmother worked right beside those colored helpers and guess they took over when she would go visiting with us in the wagon.
... She sure was a fine woman. A young man passing by one day stopped to visit with her briefly. He embraced her and kissed her and called her "Mother Gordon." She introduced him as Mr. French who was the carpenter who had built their house for them eight years previously, and had made her the nicest black walnut dining table with extra leaves and drawer for table silver. He had made the screens, too, for her fireplaces, which looked hand painted. He stayed only a short time, but asked about her children and went on his way.
... Uncle Dave had beehives, and I think that we ate honey all the time we were there, but it took so much of everything to feed so many people. It was such hot weather that Uncle Dave had to take special care to not let his hogs die while we were there. He had them in a timbered pasture, some place off from the house. We never saw them, but Papa, Andrew, and Lewis did---said that their main trouble was that they were too fat.
Mama knew nearly everybody around. We visited with Uncle Andrew and Aunt Calidonia and are had a good time with Harvey and Lena. They had two smaller children. Aunt Calidonia was Papa's cousin, a Pennington. At Uncle Monroe's we children had great times with Johnnie, Emma, Frank, Mamme, and Cecil. Tommy and Carrie were small children. We drank our first sassafras tea while there: Aunt Mattie was a White before her marriage and after Uncle Monroe died, a Mr. Black married her. We visited Aunt Laura and Uncle Frank Meriwether. Jessie was 7 years old and Gertrude 4 years. Franklin Lewis, Jr. was a baby. I thought Uncle Frank very handsome. Aunt Laura had a colored boy to help her. He brought water and wood, swept, built fires, dressed chickens, gathered peaches at the orchard, and washed dishes. H2 had his quarters in the yard and always stayed there.
... Ivy had the prettiest black hair. She was pretty and so smart and could recite little poems and knew nearly all of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." I am sure that Andrew had taught her to recite. He taught me to read before I went to school. We had school at home sitting on sacks of wheat. He was our teacher. I had not gone to Mr. Timberlake long till Papa got me a second reader. ...Annie had a nice suit of blonde hair, but had a spell of fever while we were at Grandma's and had to have it cut off. Fannie had gone to school with Mattie that day, and when they came home, Fannie said, "Oh, she isn't our baby," and cried like her heart would break. It really had changed her looks more than one could imagine. We were so glad when she got well. As time went on, she grew another heavy suit of nice long hair. She was our baby and we all loved her so dearly.
... "Captain Pridgeon" came to see "Miss Mary," as all of Mama's friends called her. He told her to be sure and have George bring her by on their way home and he would rob a beehive for them. When we got there, he and two sons had on their big hats and veils and were straining a five gallon can full of honey for them to take home. Uncle Dave had butchered a beef and and it was so good. He gave us a flour sack full when we started for home. Grandma made a lot of white sugar cookies for us. We thought she was a mighty dear grandma. While there, we visited Uncle Dick and Aunt Polly Pennington. She had a Mrs. Wade to help her keep house and do her cooking and milking. We visited in the White home. They were Aunt Mattie Mobley's parents. Three grown girls were at home. They "put the big pot in the little one" that day. Their big white house faced the North, with a long driveway lined on both sides with pretty trees and berry vines. The house was upgrade from the road and set in the edge of the orchard and had big trees all around, but I don't know what kind, excepting fig trees---so very big with limbs branched out from just above the ground. I loved so to go up into the higher limbs and look over the place as far as I could see. Figs were not ripe.They had lots of ducks and geese. Everybody had berry pies. The whole countryside was black with them and fences were loaded with vines. It had rained so much that everyone had good gardens and roasting ears. ...
We attended the program at the close of their school. Suppose a full nine months term. It was very nice. Mattie had a part in the program, and Grandma had made all her clothes of white and she had white hose and white kid shoes to wear that night. She looked so nice. She was a pretty child and so healthy. That was her first school. Many people came to visit while we were there---lots of young people.
Chapter IX
We were so happy to get home in the latter part of August, although the trip was uneventful, except Papa shot a wolf, crippling it, before we got home at noon.
... Once Mama sent me to Mrs. Nelson's after some camphor and I repeated it all the way. Their pack of hounds all began barking at me and I forgot what I went after and was afraid to go back. After Mrs. Nelson died, the Pratt family came to live with them. They were the best of neighbors, but stayed to make only one crop. Then they bought a new place by Eliasville and found oil on it many years ago. They have lived there constantly since 1885. (Mary and I visited the oldest son, Larry, and his wife in 1948 and they were still raising a good crop in seasonable years on the same land.)Eppie was born on January 23, 1885. Papa's father came from his home in Lamar County, Texas in January and stayed with us most of that year and enjoyed the change. I think he loved us, although he was old and we children made him nervous. He didn't like to hear the hens cackle and he would have us children to run them off---clear away from the house---but they would come right straight back. Mama would say, "Poor old fellow," and I wondered if all old people did that way. When Andrew took him to Ranger to catch the train back to Paris, he bought a present for each one of our family and he had given me grandmother's breast pin.
Grandpa had our best room with a big fireplace, and Andrew and Lewis kept wood for a fire. They had a bed in the same room, but were in there very little except to sleep. Mama cooked to suit him as best she could. He seemed so lonesome and we felt sorry for him. He dressed very well and was so clean and looked so nice. Mama washed and ironed all white shirts for him to wear all the time. He had no other kind. Papa would take him with him when he went to town or to the mill.
Papa sold the farm January 1, 1886 to Mr. Layfayette Hefner. Then Papa them to take home. Uncle Dave had butchered a beef and and it was so good. He gave us a flour sack full when we started for home. Grandma made a lot of white sugar cookies for us. We thought she was a mighty dear grandma. While there, we visited Uncle Dick and Aunt Polly Pennington. She had a Mrs. Wade to help her keep house and do her cooking and milking. We visited in the White home. They were Aunt Mattie Mobley's parents. Three grown girls were at home. They "put the big pot in the little one" that day. Their big white house faced the North, with a long driveway lined on both sides with pretty trees and berry vines. The house was upgrade from the road and set in the edge of the orchard and had big trees all around, but I don't know what kind, excepting fig trees---so very big with limbs branched out from just above the ground. I loved so to go up into the higher limbs and look over the place as far as I could see. Figs were not ripe.
Papa rented a nice farm between Graham and Belknap and planted a garden and corn, but the seed never sprouted in the ground. It was so dry that nearly all water dried up and stock died by the hundreds. Papa would dress a fat sheep (they stayed fat on leaves) twice a week and put it in a barrel and tie a cloth over it to keep it clean,: and drive to town and peddle it out. He got groceries and came home after dark. Mama would bake all of the mutton he didn't take with him. He always believed she could cook mutton the best of anyone he ever knew.
When we left after selling our farm near Eliasville, we rented the "True" farm between Graham and old Fort Belknap, Young County, Texas. Graham County seat of Young County was established in 1872. In 1871, Col. E. S. Graham, who came to Texas sometime prior to that date as a shareholder of the Texas Emigration and Land Company, established a Salt Works on Salt Creek, about nine miles north of where that stream runs into the Brazos River.
At the time Col. Graham established the Salt Works, all the adjacent territory was heavily populated with buffalo, and the fact that those animals seemed to prefer the Young County territory above that of much of the land in surrounding areas, caused him to get the idea that the Young County territory would be one of the finest cattle raising districts in the entire state of Texas. For that reason, in 1872, he decided to establish a town in Salt Creek Valley adjoining his Salt Works; so surveyed and plotted a town site with unusually wide streets, large blocks and spacious lets with the name of the town, of course, coming from its founder. Graham was made the county seat of Young County in 1874; the County was founded from adjoining Throckmorton and Archer Counties in 1856 and organized in 1874. Its founder was William Cook Young, ranger and Confederate soldier. The first county courthouse was erected in 1876. The "Graham Leader," the community's first newspaper, issued its first edition on August 16, 1876. The first editor was J. W Graves. This weekly publication is still in existence and is the oldest publication in northwest Texas and has never missed an issue.
The farmers began coming into the territory in 1877. In that year there were approximately one hundred buildings in the town. Graham had, at that time, the only means of communication with the outside world for considerable distance in every direction, other than the mail service, in that it was the terminus of government telegraph lines in northwest Texas. Graham's first public school in 1876 had an enrollment of fifty students with J. M. Brantley serving as Superintendent.
The first church in Graham was a Presbyterian, organized by a Mr. C. H. Dobbs in 1876. On February 17, 1877, about one hundred of the representative cattlemen of north and west Texas gathered in Graham and formed the Cattle Raisers Association of Texas. The organization meeting was held under a large live oak tree near the northwest corner of the public square in Graham. This tree is still in existence. The most outstanding and far-reaching occurrence in the history of Young County, from the standpoint of making noticeable changes, has been the development of the gas and oil resources of the territory. As early as 1910 there was some production of oil in Young County. Graham is a prosperous growing city of approximately 8,161 people; the trading center and supply point for oil companies, farmers, and stockmen.
The 160 acres that we sold to Mr. Lafayette Hefner near Eliasville, has been resold and now belongs to Mrs. Stella (Davis) Caldwell of Fort 'Worth, Texas. She is one of the daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Steve (Rock House) Davis who was one of our neighbors. That farm had 22 oil wells on it in 1948 when Mary, my daughter, took me back to E1iasville to visit my old friends, Larry and Mollie Pratt, who still live on the farm that he helped his father clear of post oak and blackjack timber in 1835. The land had a lovely home on it. ... Had oil interests on some of their land and had purchased several hundred acres adjoining the home place. ..Larry passed away in 1952; after having attended services regularly at the Church of Christ, and was an officer in the congregation for many of those years. (He attended the congregation for 63 years.) ..
While with Larry and Mollie on that visit, we got acquainted with part of their family---Will Davis, who is a brother to Mrs. Stella (Davis) Caldwell, came to visit us one afternoon. Will was the same age of brother Lewis and both were "shepherd boys" together.
Larry and Mollie Pratt accompanied us to Woodson in Throckmorton County, where we visited my cousin, Mrs. Cora Carpenter, who was their friend also. We got acquainted with her children and attended Sunday School and church on Sunday morning. Brother Don Mansur preached. Then we drove 10 miles south on the Woodson Breckenridge Highway to where another cousin, Mr. Jessie Lenoir, and her son, Waldon, and his wife lived. The Clear Fork of the Brazos River runs across her 480 acre farm. We were met there by Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Mobley and Mrs. Neil Mobley, wife of the late Estes Mobley, and several of their connections from Baird in Callahan County, Texas. We enjoyed a most delightful visit together. They all served lovely meals which we enjoyed. Much visiting was done and many pictures were made that day; one individually of me holding a little chair 72 years old.
Uncle Matt Mobley had made a set of dining chairs, a big rocker, a cradle, a little chair, and a large chest a11 of white oak timber. The chairs had rawhide seats and could be washed off in a tub of suds, but had to be thoroughly dried before they could be used again. When I saw the little chair, it brought back memories of times awhile gone by. It had been made a rocking chair, but the rocker were worn out and gone, the legs were worn off to the rungs that held it together. I felt like I wanted to hold the little treasure in my arms. I remember how I would tussle with Luther trying to take it away from him when I was 5 years old. Aunt Willie would coax and persuade him to let me rock my doll to sleep and I was afraid to go lay it down because he would get the chair again!
On this trip with Mary, she stopped her car at Eliasville at the highest point on the steel bridge and made pictures of the old Donald Brothers Mill where my father got corn and wheat ground for our bread, also for stock, sixty-three years ago. The mill and waterfall, also the large elm trees that overhung the banks, all looked so natural to me after the long absence. We had attended baptisms at the identical spot and forded it so many times:
Here, many years ago, Lewis would drive our sheep out to the mountains north of old Fort Belknap (really in the brakes of the Brazos River). He would leave home shortly after daylight and come home a little before dusk ordinarily. He failed to return one night at his usual time. He was eleven and one half, very delicate and so small for his age, but very dependable always. ... No dog, no sound of sheep bells. Needless to say, we all felt deep concern for him. At noon Lewis had shared his lunch with old Ring, while the sheep lay in the shade of the trees and went to sleep. Lewis and his dog had gone to sleep too. He said when he awoke that all had wandered farther away and he found them about eight miles from home, which made him late. Ring stayed with the poor little "shepherd boy" and all were long into the night coming to where the tinkle, tinkle of the bell could be heard and dear little, faithful Lewis with this ring-necked dog bringing up the rear. We thought it a thousand wonders that he was not devoured by a mountain lion or bitten by a rattlesnake; but believe his protection that dark, lonely night was the fervent prayers of our dear father and mother. His dog was his companion.
Chapter X
We knew very few people around us the few months that we had lived on the "True" farm in the Graham and Belknap area. However, we did get acquainted with a few! The Goldens, Maises Allens, and the Stifflers. Mr. Otis Lee later lived in that community and his son Clyde, who was our friend, was born there. He now resides in Kiowa County, and is an extensive wheat farmer. It was Clyde Lee who wrote a beautiful tribute in form of a poem for the J. K. and Laura Coker's Golden Wedding celebration, which we very much appreciated and thank him. (We have copies of the poem.)Old Fort Belknap, ten miles northwest of Graham, is reputed to be the first command of Robert E. Lee and has been honored by the command of Albert Sidney Johnston and other generals of note.
Belknap is the center of one of the oldest settlements in Texas and the site is still marked by the remains of the old Fort and especially constructed markers installed by the patriots of Texas. It was established when the west was thickly infested with Indians and was yet the vacant land of Texas; brought the first inhabitants and the Southern Pacific mail and stage line and brought others. When Young County was reorganized after the Civil War, the Texas Emigrant Land Company and the opening of the Indian reservations enticed many a pre-emptor.
I have seen chimneys standing near Fort Belknap where Indians had burned the houses down, have seen bullet holes in the doors of houses where skirmishes had been fought between the whites and Indians in Wise County in early days of Texas history.
... During the drought and famine and horrible blizzards in the late winter of 1885 and 1886, which prevailed all over west Texas, cattle died by the thousands. Feed supplies were exhausted. Water had dried up everywhere, excepting a few spring fed creeks. People were gathering bones by the wagon load to sell to buy their own daily bread. No telling how far those conditions extended. We children could scarcely go to school because the scent was horribly choking. No way to escape the scenes because they prevailed on either side of our way in the pastures we had to cross. Those conditions prevailed all over the country. No wonder our parents decided to hunt "greener pastures" elsewhere.
Papa decided he had better get out of that drought stricken area. He had a bunch of hogs and traded about twenty of them to a farmer for a good Winchester, then called the rest hone, as usual by blowing our "dinner horn" to feed them a little salted bran, "swill." He and the little boys penned them in our big rail fenced sheep lot and caught and marked and branded them, one at a time, with a "Half Circle G 7 "on the right hip. Marked lower crop in the left ear, and swallow fork the right ear, and turned them out, poor things, to "root hog or die." Seventeen of them, and I am sure they rooted the best they could. We never heard of them again. Hope some poor people benefited from our loss.
Mama always said Papa was the best hand to pack and load a wagon for a move of anyone she ever saw. I think he should have been, for he surely had practiced a lot. Should have reached perfection at it. We caught all of our chickens that we could and had them on back of the wagon in a crate. We told the John Tussey's they could have the rest of them, if they could catch them.
We started from home about the 4th of July with the sheep, cattle and five head of loose horses. Don't know how many head of cattle, but was thirty or thirty-five head and, I suppose, 250 or 300 sheep, and very poor range to graze on along the way. We, as well as the stock, nearly perished for water. First place we found good crops, he got" a Man to take our sheep to winter on the shares and told him he would come back after them when he found a place to take care of them.We were headed far Lamar County where a lot of Papa's people lived and had the most wonderful crops I ever saw growing.
.. Next thing he left were the horses so they could be cared for in Jack County, Texas, near Wizzard Wells, and got to Wise County with the cattle and left them near Chico with Uncle Mat Mobley to keep until we could return for them. After leaving Montague, Clay, Denton, Grayson, Collin, and Fannin Counties and may have crossed into others. Needless to say, it was a long, hot, dry trip.
... We reached Lamar County late in July and went to picking cotton the 5th day of August; Mama, Andrew, Lewis, Fannie and Ivy at 60 cents per one hundred pounds and boarding ourselves.
We were furnished a house to live in and Papa hauled rock for a railroad bridge. I took "care" of Annie and Eppie and cooked dinner and supper for us every day on a campfire. We had left all of our furniture in Wise County. Mama cooked breakfast before daylight. Papa would "come home" to us every Saturday night and go back to his job on Sunday evenings.
Gardens were good. Vegetables compared favorably with the "cotton picking prices." A wagon of fresh beef came around three times a week and was good and reasonable too. We got it for two and one half to three cents per pound, and we bought all we could use. The greatest responsibility I had was not getting on fire myself while cooking, or letting my little sisters get burned, and to have the meal on time. Old Ring was our protector from strangers. He didn't like them, though we were never molested or harmed. Mama worked near the children at all times and we lived very near the farmhouse and well. We bought vegetables, milk, and butter from the farmers for whom we worked.
When it came a rainy spell, Papa bought us a 16 by 20 foot tent and a box wood heater He always did a good job setting the tent. He put up the ridge pole just right, put boards around the walls, banked dirt on the outside, and stretched every rope good to its anchor so that it never sagged, blew or leaked. We cooked most all of our food on the heating stove. We baked all of our bread in an oven with the lid on it so that we could put coals on top. We baked lots of meat, potatoes, and sometimes apples in the oven, also cake and light bread.Our mother was as good at cooking on a campfire as Papa was at packing the wagon for a trip. After the weather got too cold to pick cotton Papa bought a team of big black geldings "Mack" and "Henry," good matches and pulled together perfectly. He also bought a new Bain wagon with spring seat, extra side boards, feed box, sheet and bows. Our other wagon had all these extras and were essentials to traveling.
Papa and Andrew went to work on the railroad with scrapers and teams. He had Andrew drive the big team of horses while he drove the mares. He cautioned Andrew so much about being careful, to watch his business, "and keep in line." The “boss” was a good one and watch ed all the corners at the same time and was kind, especially to Andrew, for he was the only child driving a team. One day the boss told Papa to "Pull his team aside, for it was lighter than he wanted on the works.” Papa said, "All right, that black team comes off too." "No," he said, "I don't want to give it up, it's one of the best teams on the job." So Papa stayed on too. No fault of his own that he got "fired." Andrew said, "They fired him and hired him over."
Chapter XI
January 1887
Once when we were going to move down the line a few miles, from one camp to another, Papa and Andrew had left with two loads -of-firewood, feed, etc., when an aged man came to our tent with an overcoat on. He was so cold and had Eppie inside his heavy coat. She had started to follow our wagons; she had no sign of wrap on and was bare headed and would surely have frozen to death if no one had found her. 4!e had not missed her. She was about two years old. Mama said she felt she never wanted to turn her loose again. How grateful we were that she was rescued. She, too, was glad to get back home. Mama said she must have been like the woman in the shoe and had so many children she didn'.t know what to do. She never had a child seriously hurt.
There were commissaries all along where everyone could buy all kinds of groceries and they sure were high. They worked about four months on the Cotton Belt Railroad grade works after Papa quit hauling rock. The Cotton Belt Railroad ran from Paris to Dallas. Then Papa took a contract to put up one half mile of railroad grade bed for the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railroad Company. This branch ran through Dallas. The job he took was at Wolf City near the north line of Hunt County, Texas. When they finished that project, we left Wolf City for Wise County on April 1, going across parts of Hunt, Fannin, Co11in, Denton, and Wise Counties.Papa got the idea of coming to the Indian Territory and felt that the soldiers at Fort Sill were taking care of the Indian situation and that we had nothing to dread along that score, so Andrew went back to Wizzard Wells in Jack County, or near there, after our horses. Getting our belongings assembled after being scattered for near a year, we started out from Wise County while it was misting rain on May 19, 1887. 1887. Uncle Mat corralled all of his stock so they would not try to follow ours, and he went as far as Chico with us to help get the stock started. He rode to a store and selected a nice piece of percale for Mama a dress, and came to the wagon she was driving to tell her good-bye. She loved him so dearly. He was her elder brother, since Uncle Jeff was killed near Franklin, Tennessee in one of the last battles fought in the Civil War.
We had a very nice and almost uneventful trip until we reached Red River, where we crossed the wagons and teams on a ferryboat. Had rained some of the night along the way, but were able to ford all streams; there were no bridges, and roads were not maintained by an overseer, so we just did the best we could with what we had at hand. Papa would pitch camp, net up the tent and we fared "most sumptuously, compared with some of our travels previously. However, moving by wagon and team is a very great hardship on the family and furniture. The more moving, the more hardships.
We traveled the northern direction as nearly as we could find roads. There had been travel on most of them, but no bridges. We went across part of Wise County and all of Montague and what is now Jefferson County, Oklahoma and part of Stephens County, which was then Pickens County, Indian Territory.
When we got to Red River early in the afternoon, it was running full, and so swift and red. A ferryboat was there and a big strong man to operate it. They decided to swim the cattle and horses over first. Was so hard to drive them in. There were thirteen young calves and none of us had ever heard such a commotion before. We thought every little calf would surely drown and Papa and Andrew, too; but Mama tried to comfort us the best she could. The old ferryman assured Papa that each cow would take care of her own calf. Nearly killed me to see Papa and Andrew ride into it. No one ever saw worse milling around and bawling of cows and calves. The water was over all of them except their noses and horns. Finally every cow had milled around until she had her own calf by her left side---the upper side, and it was leaning against its mother, swimming along holding its little nose above the water.
We were one bunch who "never batted an eye" while that procedure was in progress. The river looked very wide. Papa and Andrew rode their horses close to the stock but did not crowd them. We all but cried fear and sorrow for Papa and Andrew, and the stock as well.
Lewis stayed with us and the ferryman helped them by riding one of the horses. We were all so thankful when we got across in the ferryboat, we should have planted a flag had we possessed one, and I remember our mother praising God that he had been with us in our trials. We know that God does care for his own!! When we all got across the river it was getting late, almost sundown. The stock were tired from their days journey and the tiresome, long swim in that awful swift water, so muddy and red. It really deserved the name of "Red River." I guess we felt a bit like the Pilgrims after they landed at Plymouth Rock This crossing was near where Ringold now stands.
We drove about a quarter of a mile away from the river to pitch camp. The ferryman stayed all night in camp with us---he and Papa must have had a good deal "in common." He was an old farmer, and they enjoyed talking together. He told us that there had been rattlesnakes killed in that area and to "just be careful." The next morning we were letting the stock graze in fine grass; Lewis was in the edge of the timber that was pretty heavy down to the river. One of our heifers we called "Blaze" and a stray cow matched a fight and Lewis was interested, like any child, to see if ours whipped. He just squatted by a thick clump of bushes to watch the proceedings when soon he heard limbs and leaves crackle real close behind him and just turned himself, without getting up to see what it was making the noise when a bear was on his hind feet ready to spring onto him!! It scared him terribly. He knew bears perfectly well, but had never had such close contact with one before. It wasn't more than three or four feet from him. Said he didn't know how he got up and started to us, but was screaming and almost in hysterics; Papa went to him and carried him to camp. It's tracks were found and two men with their hounds got after it. Later, after crossing the river twice, they let it get away. Lewis had to be put to bed, and we drove a few miles and "laid over" to let him recover; then resumed our journey.We reached Velma late one evening. Papa asked at the McFall farmhouse if we might get drinking water and camp in a nice grove by their farm. Papa always got acquainted readily and told this man that he wanted to buy a crop and find a decent place to live. Most of the houses were merely shacks. Mr. McFall told him he had a friend who was sick, and had a crop to sell, so he could leave the farm.
Chapter XII
The next morning Papa and Andrew left camp by sunrise on two saddled horses, and by noon the next day we moved into the place. Papa had bought the Charlie Bobbins crop and all his implements, milk vessels, garden and chickens for cash. The crops were fine, but that one sure was lost in weeds. Hadn't been cultivated at all. We moved into part of the house and they moved to Gainesville, Texas in a week or so, where he died that summer. He had owned the only store and established the post office there a year or two previously and named it after his little daughter Velma. They also had a little boy who was younger.
While we were in camp, we all cleaned up and Mama went to another house close by and got acquainted with Dr. Long's wife who afterward became one of the best friends that Mama had.
The six years we lived near there, “Velma, Indian Territory,” was our post office. Velma Dobbins was a beautiful child. She was fair with blue eyes and curly black hair. Mrs. Dobbins and her helper prepared dinner for us while we unloaded. Andrew went back to Velma and got four new hoes. They were really nice people, and had t e best set of improvements in that whole community. Mr. Jim Doak, a Galvanized ( ed. civilized?) Indian, owned the farm, so we bought the crop, but paid rent to Mr. Doak---one third of the corn and one fourth of the cotton. Andrew and Papa went to plowing with two horses and walking cultivators while Mama, Lewis, Fannie and Ivy went to hoeing cotton which could scarcely be found among high weeds. Corn was waist high and fine as could be and a good season in the ground. They all worked like Trojans and got over the crop both hoeing and plowing and that was the third of June. It came a heavy hail storm and cut down every stalk of cotton and beat it into the ground---the corn into stubs. Papa risked the corn coming out, but planted the cotton over and planted a patch of cane, watermelons, muskmelons, and a garden. The ground was warm and clean and everything did fine. Several people gave us potato vines that were cut off by the hail, and we raised lots of sweet potatoes.
.,. Papa and Mama took us to Velma on the Fourth of July to their annual celebration. Had a speaker who talked about the "Five Civilized Tribes of Indians,' and I wondered what the Indians were going to do. I got little good from the speech Mrs. Doak had visited Mama and insisted we all go to the picnic, which was mostly dancing. We decided all at once to go. Mama fried a couple of chickens and fixed a quick lunch. Lots of free barbequed beef and light bread, brought from Gainesville, Texas, were served. Mrs. Doak was a Tennessee raised woman; nice, refined, cultured, and dressed beautifully. She brought several of her lady friends and introduced them to Mama, and treated her with every courtesy possible.
She was one of our best neighbors and another was "Uncle Andy" and "Aunt Vira Allen," a family of colored people, old Southern type. Their grown boys, Tyler, Sam, and Boaz, helped Papa brand cattle and horses and butcher hogs, and any hard work there was to do. ... In the fall, when Papa was ready to go to the railroad to market several bales of cotton, the colored man asked Papa if he cared for him going along; he seemed to be afraid that white people might molest him. Papa told him that he was welcome to accompany him. Several neighbors had planned to go together, as was the custom in territorial days. Of course, no one would attack a group of men.
The Allen boys carried water from our well and anytime they saw that we had company, Aunt Vira would send her two grown girls to cook dinner for us and as soon as they could wash the dishes and sweep the floor, they would go straight home.
When I had inflammation in the middle ear and had go to Dallas for treatment, these girls came and did our family washing and took the clothes home and ironed everything as nicely as anybody could have done it, and Mama got my new clothes made and ready to go.
Mrs. Doak let Mama have a piece of red and black check, all wool homespun flannel, for me a dress. Papa took me to Dallas on the train from Pauls Valley after driving there by wagon and team. He got Mr. Netherland to go along to take the wagon and team back home. We camped that night near White Bead, now Garvin County, Oklahoma. Papa and I stayed in a farmers home that night. He stayed with me a week and went with me everyday to the doctor's office. We boarded with a very nice family in Dallas, Mr. and Mrs. . Little who had a grown daughter, Flora, and two sons, Willie and Johnnie.I stayed more than two months with them. I never saw but one person that I had ever seen before. Papa ran into a Mr. Gus Long, whose mother took care of Mama and Eppie while they had the measles when we lived in Texas, early three years previously.
I left Mrs. Little's on New Years Day, January 1, 1988 to go home. She had a lovely dinner on her table with turkey and all the trimmings cake and boiled custard, etc., but I was so afraid I would miss my train that I could not eat a bite! The weather was bright but cold.
Mr. Little went with me to the station, which was not far from his home, and told the ticket agent that his little "Chickasaw Indian girl" was going to her home in the Indian Territory. I left Dallas around 12:30 P.M., I think, and got to Gainesville at 6:00 P.M. "Slow Train," it must have been. A Mr. Turner, proprietor of a big hotel, met me.
I was then a child from the country and city life was quite a contrast to me. The dining room in the Turner Hotel was the most beautiful one I had ever seen; walls, ceilings, also tables were white as snow, with beautiful coal oil lamps and a swinging lamp hanging over the largest table in the center of the room. Table, silver, and lovely crystal and china also dazzling in the brightness of the many coal oil lamps throughout the entire spacious room, made a beautiful sight. The Turner family was very nice to me while I had to lay over the four hours for my train north to Pauls Valley. I could not go to sleep, but was ready to go north at 10:00. Mr. Turner carried a lantern and a few packages for me and put me on the train. The conductor stopped by and talked to me a minute as he went through the train and told me not to try to get off when it stopped until he could help me off, and he put me right into Papa's arms at Pauls Valley where he and Lewis met me at the Gulf, Colorado, and Santa Fe Railroad depot at three o'clock in the morning. Papa checked and my trunk was lost, but a tracer soon located it, and we had to wait for it. (As we went from Pauls Valley to Gainesville, Texas, we crossed Garvin, Murray, Carter, and Love Counties.)
Pauls Valley was called Smith Pauls Valley, but when the Santa Fe people nailed the sign on the new depot, they left the Smith part of it off. As we went down two months before, we saw Sam Paul for the first and only time in my life. (This branch of the Gulf, Colorado, and Santa Fe Railroad was built in 1887; it was brand new when we were there and the paint was not dry on the first hotel, owned and operated by the Bakers, where we waited several hours for our train as we went to Dallas.) None of us slept a wink all night. Papa put us two children on a feather bed in the wagon on a lot of straw while we waited for my lost trunk, which was soon recovered. We drove out several miles southwest from White Bead to eat breakfast with the Wommack family who had been our neighbors when we lived on -"the Wise end" of Jack County, Texas, some years earlier, and had made Papa promise to do as he had gone by.
We enjoyed the best country breakfast of fresh spare ribs, sausage, gravy, hot biscuits, butter, sorghum molasses, plum butter, jelly, pumpkin butter and milk. Everything tasted so good to me and we surely enjoyed and appreciated their most generous hospitality. We sat in front of a big roaring fire in the fireplace.
We left the Wommacks in their warm house about 7:00 A.M. and drove until sundown, in a sweeping trot, all day before we got home. The children all met us away up the road, Andrew carrying Eppie on a hip and Fannie, Ivy, Annie, and old Ring all coming as fast as they could. I was so gloriously happy to get home to them all, and we and Mama nearly smothered each other with kisses. Oh! It was wonderful to get home to those I loved dearer than my own life. It's awfully hard for children to stay away from home. "Be it ever so humble" (and ours was), there is no place like home.”I believe the more humble our homes are, the dearer they seem to us. We are bound closer together when we are too poor to have anything more than each other to love and live for.
Mama had cooked their New Year's turkey the day I got home with all that goes with it, for a good dinner. She was waiting for us at the front gate when we drove up; we were one happy family!
As we drove out to the Wommack home, January 2, 1888, along about 4:00 or 5:00 A.M., no settlements at a11, the moon was full, but partly cloudy. We were going over prairie for the most part, with a few scattered trees and sage brush. Papa thought he saw a man running along a little ridge not far away. He checked his team to a halt and the man stopped too. He repeated the performance two or three times with the same results, then he told Lewis to come hold the team till he could get his Winchester and he'd find out if it really was a person. We both held the lines, and he drove up and his man started too, so Papa called to him to halt, and he decided it was a part of an old tree that really looked like a man. He said that made him think of one of William Holmes McGuffey's stories, "Harry and the Guide Post," anyway, there were many depredations committed in the Indian Territory those days with little law or order. Mostly robberies.
There were U.S. Deputy Marshals through our part of the country ever so often picking up horse thieves and moon shiners and trying to run down all such. Mr. Heck Thomas was a U.S. Marshal who would stay overnight sometimes at my father's home, and I recall that he came to our house once with another officer and three prisoners and asked my mother if she could feed him and his men and let them feed their horses. He said they were very tired, they looked tired too. It was about 2:30 P.M. She told him that she would do her best. I helped her get a fire in the wood stove, and ground coffee. She cut a ham, made hot biscuits, gravy, we always has sorghum molasses, milk, and butter that was well kept in a trough of cold water. We put a white tablecloth on the oilcloth and put up a clean roller towel where they washed in the hall. By the time they were ready, we had a quickly prepared meal on the table, while they rested and ate. Mr. Thomas expressed his appreciation for her kindness and paid her well, and they were soon on their way. We felt sorry for them all. The prisoners were all pretty young looking men.
Chapter XIII
.. We had a good house with two good stone fireplaces and chimneys (most of the chimneys in that part of the country were made of sticks and mud). We had good rains and made fine crops the five years we lived near Velma. As Dr. Long would go up the country to see patients and pass by our house, he would bring Mrs. Long and their two little children to visit my mother. Later, I boarded with them and went to school to Professor Vandiver.
Uncle Charlie Gordon brought his family to Velma from Paris, Texas and rented the Moss farm and came with my father to the opening of Old Oklahoma in 1889, April 22. He drove team and wagon with food, bedding and horse feed, while Dr Long had Papa ride with him in his buggy, since he had just recovered from a hard siege of double pneumonia with other complications and was confined to his bed for more than three months. Papa and Uncle Charlie each took a 15 year lease under Mr. Star Jones, on Pipe Creek about eight miles southwest of Velma. Each improved them with native timber, building a one and one-half story hewed log house. They fenced with worn rail fences, dug wells, made double cribs with hall between, and Papa made a large tank by putting up a dam across a deep ravine and had lots of water for stock and geese. Had to almost chink and daub the fence to keep geese from eating the garden and early corn.
We had a miserably cold winter, but Mr. Netherland taught school about two months at the Rock Hill Schoolhouse and Andrew, Lewis Fannie, and Ivy attended, along with 12 or 15 others. Sister Jessie was born near Velma Indian Territory, January 15, 1888, while we lived on Wild Horse Creek. We had good rains and raised fine crops every year that we lived in the Indian Territory.
Uncle Billie Gordon brought his family from near Van Buren, Arkansas March 1, 1900, arriving at our house. He also took a lease on land under Mr. Jones. All worked for the mutual interest of each other, clearing land of timber, making rails, burning brush and the "thousand and one" turns we needed to do incident to making homes in a new country. Papa put out a nice peach orchard, not only that, but he took care of it. After trimming our shade trees to a nice shape, he whitewashed our house inside and out and also the trunks of the trees with lime and thick, sour milk, which adhered almost like glue.
Andrew and Cousin Henry Gordon broke the land with two yoke of oxen and a bull tongue plow.
Brother Walter was born May 21, 1890 near Velma on Pipe Creek. Uncle
Charlie Gordon lost his dear wife, Aunt Miranda (Owens) Gordon, April 4, 1890.... There were a great many political speakers at the various picnics those days always talking about the "Organic Act," the "Dawes Commission," and always "The Five Civilized Tribes." Some were white men and some educated Indians all talking about the Indian affairs and the possibility of getting free homes. Everyone seemed agreeable and we never saw any drinking done, however, we did hear of it sometimes. There were always protracted camp meetings in the summertime and much dancing during the winter months. ...
We had Bible study at Rock Hill where everyone came together to study. Our leader was Mr. McCaskill. We also had singing Sunday afternoons, but those activities ceased early in the fall when crops were matured and required gathering. Neighbors visited during the Sunday school season and we found lots of good among the people.
Southeast of Chickasha, in 1891, we visited near Fred with Uncle Mat Mobley and family over the Fourth of July when their daughter Laurinda was married to Mr. Bill Ellege. ...
... Papa took us children down on Wild Horse Creek and picked 12 or 15 bushels of black walnuts which were so good in cookies. Once we all went fishing and I caught my first fish, about twelve inches long, and gave it a hard sling out onto the ground and it flopped back into the water! I was a child and that was an exciting time for me. We never thought of going swimming those days, thereby missing a lot of fun. ...
Papa killed a white owl in a tree in our yard; there were a few tan feathers on it. We often heard the closing notes of an owl's serenade in the stillness of the nights when we lived in Stephens County among heavily timbered area. When one would advance through a timbered area and suddenly come upon a deer, it would break its silent reveille and run away toward a thicket of trees to hide itself. Wild turkeys were plentiful during territorial days in Oklahoma. A large covey of quail was a common sight at anytime, and how we loved their "Bob White calls!" ...
Andrew, when yet a child, rescued a man from a well that had damps in it. Being let down to put a rope around his body in order that he could be drawn out with a windlass. He then rode one of Papa's horses after Dr. Long to treat the man whose name was Will Slaughter, a brother to Mrs. Andrew Meredith. ...
The M. K. & T. Railroad was first to lay tracks across what is now Oklahoma in 1872. Then the Santa Fe came along in 1887. ...In the fall of the year Papa, Mama and vie children would go down into the Wild Horse Creek bottom and gather wild grapes which were so good. Some people called them opossum grapes. Anyway, Mama made pies and cobblers of them.
Once Andrew found a nest of wild turkey eggs. Mama set a chicken hen with them and raised several turkeys, eight or nine as I remember.
My father bought half sole leather in about 18 inch to 24 inch squares and half soled all of our shoes, cutting his leather to fit each individual pair of shoes, using wooden pegs made of oak, I suppose, while I stood by handing him one little peg at a time, (he bought them in tiny paper bags at the time he bought the leather) until I would have to lean against him and almost go to sleep before he could finish. He owned a shoe stand and several varied sized lasts and always did his own work, like a sign on a shoe shop: "WE HEEL THEM and SAVE THEIR SOLES and ATTEND THEIR DYING NEEDS." Papa always wore the "good neighbor boots." ...
In 1891, during a very busy time in late summer while we were making molasses early and late, gathering peas for winter use, gathering corn and feeding hogs, it was announced that Brother John Hall of Clay County, Texas was going to conduct a meeting at the Arthur Schoolhouse, eight or nine miles away on Wild Horse Creek. So we managed to quit work early so we could attend the services, which we did nearly every night. My mother had converted me to the one faith. Please read all of Paul's letters to the Ephesians, and I obeyed Christ's Gospel by being baptized into His death, the last Sunday in August. The preaching was plain reasoning, yet forceful. All the converts were baptized in a beautiful clear pool in Owens Prairie on the last Sunday of the meeting. Brother Hall later homesteaded land at Burns Flat in Washita County where the family lived for many years.
... At school on Pipe Creek we had great times playing together with some swinging on the grapevines, and everyone enjoyed our "Spelling Bees." On Friday afternoons we had a contest and lots of fun when we would "choose up" and "spell down," and usually had visitors who joined in. We soon learned who were good spellers and all wanted "them on our side." The boys main sport was playing ball and Andrew could not play because he had gotten an arm hurt earlier and had it in a sling for several weeks in the summer. ...
Andrew made a full hand when corn gathering time came as he never shirked his work in his life. Papa hired a man to help Andrew with the planting and every thing during that spring and summer. Mama had a fine garden and raised all the chickens she could. ...
Chapter XIV
Uncle Charlie Gordon and children were living in Duncan when we moved. Papa and Mama drove by to see them and Fannie and Ivy spent the night with them. Lewis with his ox teams and wagons, and I with my cattle driving "position" kept to the main traveled road at the west edge of town. We camped about three miles northwest or town, but not before the rest of the caravan had over taken us. I would be so tired when night came that I just wanted to lie down on the ground. Next morning we got on the road early. Papa and Mama went back in the hack to get my sisters and a new dress for each of us.
Most all of the new settlers smoked pipes and raised their own tobacco. One of the nearest and best neighbors had a pair of twins "Daniel and Meedie" about three years old. "Uncle Tom" Chapman, as we called him, was so proud of Daniel's accomplishments; by the time he was two, or before, he'd say "just watch how Daniel can spit," and it really was too comical for words. And you know it was disgusting too. Papa disliked the thoughts of tobacco so dreadfully that it was pitiful, but he actually had to laugh at Daniel's performances. He would walk up onto the hearth, put his right foot forward and spit clear behind the back log with the greatest of ease.
Mrs. Duncan, a Chickasaw Indian whose maiden name was Thornhill, had the only store in Duncan for many years before the railroad went through Duncan in the early spring of 1892. Then Duncan went on a boom! Mrs. Duncan had a brother whom she visited, and when his children (their mother had died) would get new clothing, my mother would do their sewing.
Papa cleared land, dug out roots and stumps while the boys plowed that which was already cleared. Lewis, Ivy, and I piled and burned brush for three months. Got it all cleared excepting a five acre pasture. I could go to Velma seven or eight miles away after the mail about every two weeks. I ran my horse nearly to death, didn't hurt her though. I wanted to kill her, she was so mean to catch; I made a noose, got on, and made her lope to the house. As she turned the corner at the tank I fell backward and struck my head back of my right ear. Papa was watching and came to me. I really suffered from that fall and couldn't go after the mail.The first time I ever cut anyone's hair was "Uncle Tom Chapman's." I never saw a thicker suit and nearly curled up around his collar. I really was joking when I asked if he wouldn't like for me to give him a haircut. He said, "Why yes, if you think you can." He really needed it, and I said, "I never did that for anyone in my life, but maybe I can." So I started in under the shade of a tree in our yard. There it was light and cool. For a long time I just cut around and round thinking I would try to keep it the same length and would have no trouble when I got it short enough. His hair was so black and his scalp so white that I began to go easy and trim a little here and a little more there and less some other places; his family and ours all began laughing at him, and I think feeling sorry for me, but maybe more so for him. I did my very best from the start to the finish I could not yet it all the same length until I had it all as short as I could yet it all over. I was tired, embarrassed and so amused, but ashamed to laugh, and sorry enough for him to have cried had it not been for the laughing by everyone. It was after their protracted meeting had closed for which I was thankful. He said I cut off enough hair to stuff a horse collar. I felt that it was a wonder that he didn't get mad at me. His head looked like the proverbial "peeled onion." I learned then, that I would never make a barber!
The two Chapman brothers and their families and relatives and friends Bates, Shaws, Ashs, Wises, Lowes, a colony of Texas people came there and settled in one community, making homes for themselves; all hard working people as you could imagine. They used the timber for their houses and fences, stables, sheds, and storm caves too. They grubbed out the stumps, roots and all, and many broke their land with ox teams.In the early days back in 1887, Velma, Indian Territory, got mail only twice each week by stagecoach from Pauls Valley as I remember and came on Monday and Friday. The stagecoach driver always stayed overnight in the McFall home where he took care of his four horse team and left before daylight in winter time.
.. I have stood by and watched cotton being ginned, and then got a cotton sack full to take home with me for a mattress and quilts. The "beating" is the hardest part of making a mattress. When I watched meal being ground from corn, I marveled that no grit or sand was in the meal. Don't think many of the mills like that are used these days. However, in the old states you see one occasionally, and a friend of our daughter Jewell got some fresh ground cornmeal in Virginia from a water mill for her at Christmas time in 1956. That kind is so "live," ready to rise, sweet and fragrant as well as good tasting. I'm sure a lot of old people remember how good it t was. I saw one of those mills in Yosemite National Park in September 1956, also an old sawmill in operation.... People who do not have sorghum to cook with are handicapped. We made pumpkin butter and pumpkin piles with sorghum. We made egg butter by beating eggs into boiling sorghum, taking it right from the stove and adding a pinch of allspice.
In 1900 old Mr. Terry borrowed Papa's log chains and Papa told him to please bring them home when he was through with them, but he never did---guess he didn't like the "orders." Papa sent me on a horse and his saddle on a cold, damp March day after them. Was several miles through heavy timber. I wasn't afraid, but did get frightened when old Daisy jumped a terrible leap to one side when she saw, before I did, a monstrous deer. It was the largest of all the bucks I have ever seen. He evidently was asleep in or by the road and had just crossed it in front of me when I saw it. I wasn't scared of it but Daisy did scare me when she came so near jumping from under me. The buck held his head so high and had such big wide antlers that it was difficult for him to go very fast among the trees. Since I first heard of Kodaks, I have wished for a picture of him as he ran away frightened worse than Daisy was. She was gentle as a house cat.
... With part of the children hoeing cotton, I had churned and put the butter and buttermilk in the long trough to keep it cool. Had to put the milk in stone jars to keep it cool. Had churned in a big red cedar churn. ...
Mama made lots of jars from gallon stone jugs, and some larger that were on the place when we went there. She had learned that if she'd wrap and saturate with coal oil, strings around a jug, and let them burn off (to heat the jug through) then put in a tub of cold water , that it would break the top off and it worked in most cases. Therefore, we had more than a dozen of those nice jars. We would paste a cloth over the top of the jars so it would cool, which never would have in the wooden churn.
The place where we lived had been settled and improved by Mr. Dunford and sons, Alonzo and Jack. Mr. and Mrs. Dunford also had three daughters, Fannie Mattie, and Annie. The old couple had died before we went there; they were a family of nice people. The neighbors invited us all to go with them on a fishing trip up on the Washita River that summer, but I was sick and no one of us went excepting Papa. He took our tent and outdoor cooking utensils on the trip and got a few messes of fish was all. Fish would not have kept to bring home if they had caught a barrel. They all had a great time and got better acquainted with each other. Mama made Papa a new pair of gray jeans and a brown linen shirt for the trip and he looked so nice, always when shaven. He had big brown eyes and black curly hair.Andrew and Lewis walked about three miles to a school beyond Velma for a short time in August which was taught by a Mr. Cornelius. He, too, was a sick teacher, but had a substitute who was Miss Bell Ice. They liked the teachers but the term was too short to learn much. Mr. Cornelius brought his wife and children to visit us one Sunday afternoon and was a nice family.
Lewis and I went to school a few weeks at Rock Hill the spring of 1888 to Miss Dora White. Sometimes her brother Oscar would bring her behind him on a horse. She had another brother Dee who married Miss Minnie Applegate. I visited one day with Miss Dora and her mother who lived on Sigman's Prairie with Oscar. Their nearest neighbors were Mr. and Mrs. Midkiff and their three sons, Will, Frank, and Oscar.Their daughter, Miss Mattie, was in Fort Worth going to school. Miss Dora White married a Mr. Holman. After his death, she canvassed Stephens County for an office. I never knew if she was elected; she was a fine young woman.
Chapter XV
I want to pay tribute to a yoke of oxen since they have been important in making Oklahoma what she is today.
"A heave of mighty shoulders to the yoke,
Square patient heads, and flaring sweep of horns,
The darkness swirling down beneath their feet
The night wind's volley upward bitter-sweet;
Where sweeping Valleys stir and feel the dawn;
Uncouth and primal, on and up they sway,
Taking the summer in a drench of day,
And the dew shatters to a rainbow spray Under the slow-moving cloven feet.
There is a power here that grips the mind;
A force repressed and inarticulate,
Slow as the swing of centuries, as blind,
As destiny, and as deliberate.
They will arrive in their appointed hour Unhurried by the goad of lesser wills, Bearing vast burdens on.
They are the great unconquerable spirit of these hills."... It was in 1887 that I went outside the yard and across the road, maybe it was near one hundred yards to a stump to pick up chips to cook dinner. The trunk of the tree has been used, possibly in the building of the house or making rails, and the tree top was intact with branches and leaves still there. I never thought of being afraid though I should have called Ring for protection. I was singing as loudly as I could, as was my habit, and had filled my bucket with chips and almost a lap full too, when all at once I looked toward the top of the tree and there, not more than ten feet away, stood a leopard or something looking at me like a house cat. Its body was longer and bigger than our seven year old shepherd dog! It had been asleep, I suppose, and had been awakened by my singing and was partly with its side toward me and looking back at me with its teeth shining and kind of a snarl, but just trotted away sidewise, looking at me as long as I watched it. It was most white with black spots all over and long bushy tail, as well as I remember. I sure went to the house in a hurry to my two little sisters, Annie and Eppie. It could have killed me there. If it had come toward me I couldn't have run a step. I was eleven years old. It wasn't more than a quarter mile to where all of the family was at work in the field, but I didn't call them because the varmint was gone and I had to hurry to cook dinner and have it ready on time.
When we had lived real near to Mrs. Midkiff, she would insist on having Ivy or Annie stay with her. And Annie did go and spend a day with her once while her family was away from home making hay. She was a lovely lady, but very delicate Frank helped her in the house most of the time just like a girl.
Turkeys were plentiful in the woods when we moved to Pipe Creek. They came sometimes right to our corn cribs to eat. Papa shot and killed a gobbler while standing on our front porch early one morning. Wasn't an uncommon occurrence for any of our hunter neighbors to kill a deer in the fall or winter. There were lots of quail those days. I always enjoyed listening to the rain on the roof when we lived in houses that were not ceiled and the rain could be heard so plainly. I have been in numerous houses that had home riven boards for the roofs. I have seen lots of shingles made by a shingle machine. The timber is first sawed the desirable or regulation length, split several times, then boiled in clear water, then "fed" through a splitting mill run by horse power, then wired into bundles while wet and weighted down to dry straight.In 1887 Papa bought a sorghum mill from Mr. Davenport and we made our own molasses and hundreds of gallons for custom. They were all good; some extra and some not so good, owing to the nature of the land or soil the cane was grown on. It was a big mill and the equipment the best I ever saw. The whole affair was well arranged in the shade of a nice grove of oak and blackjack trees---the best location for it. Everyone worked and most of the time we had at least one man to help. Sometimes a man would want to help make his own crop of cane up which would help save expenses. Well and good if he could do anything right. If he ground cane, he would overload the mill; if he piled cane by the rollers, he would get it crossways and tangles; if he drove the horse, he would have it in a trot; if he carried pummies away, he would lose half on the way and leave for the horse to walk over; if he skimmed at the vat, he would likely as not dip back skimmings to front and throw front skimmings in the waste instead of in the back vat. If you know how to make molasses you know what I mean. Was hard to train some people. Some could catch on right now and make a good hand. Any department is a responsible task, and I say making molasses is work! We began before daylight and sometimes were until midnight finishing a batch of cane. We kept everyone's cane separated from all other. Most people around us raised their own cane and we made it up for them. Any of our family knew when molasses were done, but no one did the drawing from the vat excepting Papa, Mama, Andrew or Lewis. Cooking for the family and comers and goers was a big job and nearly always had extra men for dinner who were hauling their cane to the mill and unloading it. Some who were there to investigate the progress while others prospectors. Some wondered if he would be required to furnish the cord of wood it would take.
Most people were honest and wanted to be reasonable while some knew so little about the expenses and hard work it took, that they were hard to deal with. We shared the work equally as we could, each one doing all he could as the case demanded. One hand, a good one, a burly big man always came in time to eat breakfast. We served meals in relays, generally taking dinner enough for two to the mill.
The man from whom Papa bought the mill had the most ideal place for it that I ever saw. It was real near their improvements in a very large fenced tank lot which had a lovely grove of big trees in it, and had so many big boys to run it. Nine of them in all; could have changed shifts at noon every day if that "set up" had suited their fancy. They were Charles, Trudell, Weldon, Stilwell, Walter, Whitfield, Emmett, Samuel, William, and Marshall. Our family knew them all; they were never all at home at the same time. C. T. was our teacher for short periods at different places. Everyone worked by the month for some farmer stockman. They also had four sisters, Lillie, Clara, Mary, and Hattie. I boarded at their house and went to a summer school that C. T. taught at the Fitzhue Schoolhouse on Owens Prairie, several miles southeast of Duncan in 1889. Mr. Charlie, four brothers, and we four girls went from the Davenport home to school.
Mrs. Davenport was a Jennings by birth and a blood relative to our beloved William Jennings Bryan. Her Mary sent her obituary to me and I have it in one of my scrap books. Some of the boys and girls who attended that school were Gabe Fitzhue; Stella, Dora, and Pressley Mayberry; Jerry, "G," Della, and Nellie Gray; Pat and Clyde McCarley, besides the eight Davenports and Andrew and me. Andrew rode 7 or 8 miles horseback from home. We children attended about six weeks of school at Rock Hill one summer along with Boyd, Scott and Minnie McCaskill; Will Frank, and Oscar Midkiff; Mattie, Ollie, and Willie Richey; Archie and Nellie Meyers; Mattie Dunford; Erastus, John, Bill, and Fred Copeland; Frank, Will, and Ella Kensley, and a short term at Pipe Creek with Lizzie, Esther, and Andrew Meredith; Mattie and Mollie Medley; Frank, Mamie, and Cecil Mobley; John, Lizzie, Buck, Lou, and Mattie Wise; Patan, Archie, Lou, and Alice Chapman; Sam and To