My Child-hood Days in the Hill's of Old Kentucky

My great aunt, Lulie McCall, Jordan, wrote this story Saturday, February 27, 1935, . She was terminally ill and wanted to leave her daughter, Ruth Jordan a part of her life she had neglected to share.

“My Child-hood Days in the Hills of Old Kentucky. “

Wrote especially for my dear daughter Ruth Jordan.

By her Mother Lulie McCall, Jordan Feb. 27^th. 1935

“_Kentucky Days_”

 

My earliest recollection and memories is of my Log house home, of my Mother (Millie, Barnes, McCall, one of the best”), and of my Father (Peter McCall) older brothers and sister, for six years I remained the baby of the family. Then my baby brother was born, completing a family of 10 children. I was the youngest of the girls and Orland of the boys. As the baby of the family he was made much of, we played together and worked together and of all the family grew the closest and dearest. Our’s was a comfortable home. The house was roomy enough to house us all comfortably and I remember how cozy it was gathered around the big open fireplace in the winter, mother with her sewing or mending or knitting. My brother John, with a book or magazine, reading us interesting stories of adventure or mystery while we roasted potatoes or chestnuts and pop corn in the hot embers and ashes. I remember one night when quite small, going over to the window and looking out, the moon was at it’s full and a bright light over a world covered with white snow and frost gleaming everywhere. The hills, I have no words to describe the cold clear beauty of that winter seen, and after standing for some time I turned back to the cheerful warmth of the great open fire with a feeling of real joy that Mother and Dad was there, but that picture was then and is now imprinted upon the very deepest depths of my memory, it was so beautiful yet so cold and sad, it left a dull ache or pain not easily expressed in words,

            We were taught much of the history and beauty of our State and grew up to love our flag and our country. My farther was a Civil War Vet, and very proud of the small part he had in that war. He cast his first vote, on the eve of a big battle, for Abraham Lincoln, was always proud his first vote was cast for him.

Of Scotch-Irish decent, his people had settled in Pa. Later migrated with others early settlers to Ohio, where my farther was born. Mothers people came from somewhere in the Old world. Their name was DeWitt but after coming to the U.S.A. they dropped the De and was known as Witt. Her farther like my fathers people migrated from Pa. To Ky. And settled in the Cumberland MT. Country where my mother was born. Her Grand-farther Richard Barnes was a skilled Scout and with other early settlers, helped to settle that part of Ky. Then held by savage and war-like tribes of Indians.

 

Many stories of Indian warfare and cruelty was told to us around the fire, in the winter of being chased by wolves and panthers of which there was many in the old days, also we were taught a deep respect and reverence for God and his house, and a very great respect for old and helpless people. Our early training was fine and good. The reading of Gods word and the family alter of prayer was not neglected in our home life.

Our winter sports was skating, sled riding down a long hill over the snow, and tramps in the woods, along the creeks and valleys. Our brothers set traps and snares and done much of hunting with rifle, and fishing, also there was school. We always kept open house at our home. Real hospitality and cheer, everyone was welcome there. Our friends used to say that something dreadful would happen at our place sometime because my farther never turned away anyone who needed lodging and food. No matter what nationality or color.

 

Our nearest town was 12 miles away and was called Vanceburg, the Co. seat of Lewis Co. The next nearest town was Maysville 18 miles and as people in those days traveled by horse and buggy or wagon we had many visitors. I recall one cold rainy and sleety night in winter, it must have been about 7-30 when a traveler drove up to our front gate and yelled “Hello the house”. He was almost frozen and the horses about give out. The boys got the lantern and went out, put up the team, fed and watered them and after the stranger got warmed and fed, he proved to be Bob Pollet of Vanceburg out selling Cottage Organs, he tried to stop at a little Village called Martin, 4 miles from us, but the people told him to drive on up to “The Good Samaritans House” that McCall took folks in. For 2 days and 2 nights the storm raged and Bob stayed with us. My farther, and brothers helped him carry in the organ and we bought it. After that he always made our place, when ever possible. I am glad my Dad was called the Good Samaritan; he deserved the name and always lived up to it. As the last 5 children got older our home was a Social Center for the young folks; many parties and musical gatherings was held there. There was violins, guitars, banjo and organ and much community singing. Mother and Dad enjoyed it all very much.

 

            I want to describe a spring in the hills for you Ruth, as my earliest remembrance was of winter, I will now tell you of the other 3 seasons of the year, Spring, Summer and Fall. How glad we all was to see the first indications of Spring, I have often watched the green shoots of a little plant called “the snow drop”, push up through the snow and slush and the flowers was white and shaped like a star, looked like white wax flower and smelled so sweet. There was a little wild flower looked like Easter-Lilies and Johnny-Jump-ups and Violets, we always was out to find the earliest ones. My mother loved nature in all its moods and forms, she taught me the beauties of all the seasons and I enjoy storms and sunshine, we always had heavy storms in the spring, but first I will tell you about the red-bugs and dog-woods blossoms Spring is from 4 to 6 weeks earlier down there than here in Illinois in April the hills and valleys are covered with a bush or brush called red-bug, the leaves are beginning to show green, everywhere you look is masses of red and scattered here and there through-out is white of dog-wood blooms The two are like wax and shaped like a wild rose and then soon follows the wild grape bloom and Oh, the sweetness of the air all about, and purple and white lilacs; everywhere you look is beauty coming out of her winter sleep. And then along the hills sides and valleys, people are raking and burning brush and leaves and sowing tobacco beds with canvas stretched over them, ads a bit more of white on the green.

Mother and I always cleaned our yard in March or the first of April trimmed up all the trees and shrubs and burned up the leaves and trimmings. I can see that old yard now. Dad built a frame house when I was about10 years old but the old one stood behind it for many years. I know now farther and mother hated to see it go, they had lived there for years, raised the most of the family there, 5 of us children had been born there, so we moved into the new place and used the old as a kitchen and dining-room and when we young folks had company, a fire was started in the stove or fire-place and we spent many happy hours there.

The yard by May was a riot of color and perfume, roses everywhere and honey-suckles, we had two big posts set in the ground on either side of the front walk, cross pieces nailed up the posts and the whole was a riot of vines, green leaves and yellow and white blossoms, and how they did smell. I recall how my sister used to twist the blossoms in her hair and enjoy the fragrance of the crushed blossoms, and we had two bird housed set up high on posts. Our neighbors used to laugh at them because they was not handsome or artistic like some they made but we always had birds. I remember how the sparrows used to build in them every winter after the blue Martins left and how each spring they would return and whip out the sparrows and take their old home. I have watched the battles every spring for a long time. I know one bright sunny morn I was hanging the wash on the line, the wire was fastened to the bird-house post, mother always said the martins liked a clean shire wash on the line, they would come out on the little stoop or porch of their home, and just sing and sing and fly about busy and happy. All of us loved those birds and as I hung up the wash I was thinking the blue martins are late this year, when all at once I heard a commotion above me, I looked up and there was several pairs of them and such a chatter and racket as they and the sparrows made. I ran and called mother and we came and watched the battle in and around and around they flew, pecking each other but it always ended the same, the sparrows eventually flew away worsted. I have seen a blue martin dive right into the door and drive out the sparrow sitting on her eggs, then carry the eggs out and drop them one by one and then they would clean house. While Mrs. Martin pulled out every bit of the straw and old nest material Mr. Martin would carry new material and they would build a new nest and raise their babies and enjoy home life and sweet content. Mother taught me much of their habits and ways and soon as the martins come you could look for the mocking-bird. This bird because of his dark brown color is hard to see. There was a peach tree that grew up by my bed-room window, I slept up stairs so could see out in the top of the tree, he used to start his song bright and early, he would sing and sing, I used to get up, creep over to the window and listen in, often I could see him, such bird music I never heard the notes so clear and ringing he would sing and sing till his little body was just a quivering mass of feathers, then he would spring high in the air and still singing he would begin to drop lower and lower till he was dropping from limb to limb and branch to branch, his song gradually decreasing in volume till alighting near his mate on her nest, he would just pour out heart in the softest sweetest notes you ever heard. I have been told later, that this is the mating song and sung only in the spring and early summer. What a lover he is. I hope you and I can see it all together some spring. You will love it.

 

Then come our garden and house cleaning, but mother always took time off to pack a lunch and taking me, sometimes my brother go off on a tramp in the hills. Being far from Drs. (Doctors) and towns, mother who knew something of the medical value of roots and herbs, used to gather and make our own spring tonics and salves. I can see us yet, we always took one or both of the dogs because of snakes mother used to say but I believe now more because they loved the trips as well as we did. They were large shepherd dogs, named Jack and Mingo, the special pride of my bother Blaine. Our lunch, a hatchet and a hoe and big collapse knife and a sack for carrying what we gathered. We never saw many snakes but mother was match for them, armed with a hoe. We gathered wild cherry-tree bark, and dogwood for a tonic and yellow fariller root and redpercoon roots and lots of others I have forgotten. Mother watched the sun and when it got directly overhead we would hunt a cool shady spot near a spring or small stream of water, then mother would call and whistle in the dogs and after asking Gods blessing we would eat our dinner there and feed the dogs. Then for an hour and sometimes two, we would rest and talk, mother told me how she come to know so much about the healing of herbs, she said, on the farm her farther owned in the Cumberland Mts.  There had once been a camp or small village of Indians and for years an old Indian his squaw and daughter used to come back in the summer, he was an old man then and very kind. They always let him pitch his teepee on the farm near a creek and he told grand-farther many stories and legends he had never heard. They gave them butter, eggs and milk and he cured the family of many ills. Mother was his favorite and he taught her much of the art of healing by the simple things that grew all around there. He also told grand-farther there was a silver mine or vein up in the hills on his land but he would not tell where, they looked everywhere but never found it, so gradually lost faith in the story.

 

            She (Mother) never forgot to teach a lesson of God and his goodness, one day she showed me the leaves turned all wrong side up and so hot and scorched looking in the heat, “see,” she said the leaves are praying see how still and hushed every thing is, they are asking God for rain. A few hours later after we go home I watched a storm form over the valley, it was about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and then she come and stood beside me. What a change from a few hours before, the heavens was dark and big clouds of wind and rain was racing across the sky, there was a steady drone upon the hills in the tree tops, the leaves began to rustle and sing, now said mother, the leaves are rejoicing and clapping their hands, soon God will speak in the thunder, and rain will come. The horses and cattle came racing down the valley before the wind, mother turned to me with her eyes all smiles, look at the horses and calves, they know a storm is coming and they are racing before the wind, you must not be afraid and loosing my hair, she would say, go now and run too, run to the end of the walk and back, see how many times you can do it before the rain comes. Don’t be afraid of the thunder and lightning, put your head and chest back and run,” you see 2 Drs. (Doctors) told her my chest development was not right and I would die of T.B. before I was grown up, so I would tear out of the door and down the walk with my hair flying everyway and the dogs racing with me up and down. You shall try it Ruth, even if you are strong, if we ever get down there. It is the most wonderful sensation, you are running against the wind and you can hardly get your breath, you gasp and laugh and sputter and you want to yell and cant, then you are at the end of the drive, you have turned, the wind whips your hair straight out in front and in your eyes, the thunder booms, you yell all you are a mind to then. The wind is pushing you along almost lifting you and then comes the first dash of rain and you dash for the house and the dogs pole in after you or before you and if the storm was too sever, we sat by a window and watched, if not near the door. I recall asking mother, who taught her all those things about the leaves and running before the storm? And she told me, the old Indian did, he had taught her to run just as she had taught me. I am sorry I have forgotten his name but it is so long ago, I did. After the storm there would be renewed beauty everywhere and so the spring would slip by and the time of the opening of flowers and the singing of the turtledove was again in the land. Another of mothers sayings there is nothing more mournful or sweeter than the notes of the turtledove high upon a hill or in some lonely valley, I thought of this story told by my mother by the old Indian so long ago and so many stories come to us.

 

            Many mounds and places of burial is found all through Ky. On our farm at home, a high hill or mound stands many feet high; on top is many mounds or an Indian burial place. All the graves are covered with stones. That was to keep out the wild animals, like wolves, panthers and such man-eating critters. I recall my farther and his friend John McCann and my brother Blaine opened one of the graves. I went along we found part or a skull, the axe part of a tomahawk and the broken bowl of a stone pipe, so we decided it was a Indian burial place. It is very interesting, many flint and arrow heads was plowed up near and around there on this flat by my farther. The name of the valley was lived in was, “Quick’s Run” They said a man by the name of Quick, a hunter and early settler, with another man had left the fort at Boonsburg near Maysvelle and wandered up into the valley, quite a ways from the fort, they were found by the Indians, ser upon and his comrade killed, Quick, who was fleet of foot, and a good runner set out to try and outrun them and escape. As they were between him and the back trail, he ran for miles, they say he made the end of the trail to where the creek empties into the river near Rome or Vanceburg and there utterly spent and on the banks of the Ohio he was caught and tortured. Some years later this creek was called by his name and still is to this day. Lots of dew-berries and blackberries grew up on the hill at home and uncle John said he believed this point was also used to send up signal smokes across the hills and possibly a place of worship, or these Indians often worshiped the Sun and by so many indications he thought it possible, anyway, I used to get a queer creeping feeling if I caught myself up there alone any way near Sundown, another thing I loved was the summer sunsets. I used to hurry through my work in the kitchen, then take an old quilt or blanket and a couple of pillows and go out in the back wood lot close to the back yard fence. There was most always a sled there used for hauling wood and plows and other things about, I would fold my blanket on that and with my pillows make a comfortable bed, I have spent many a eve till bed time there and listened to the song of birds and the sky was a never ending source of wonder and joy to me. Here is a pen picture of what I saw. All over down here, in the valley, where I was, was in shadow, a deep sort of purple haze was covered with a bright golden glow, up there the trees leaves were a bright shimmer of green leaves, further down the slope a darker green till at the foot of the hills the green took on the purple haze of summer twilight and the sky, as the sun got closer and closer to the line of hills, such colors you never saw, all colors and so beautifully blended, so rich and wonderful. Then the sun was gone down below the hills and even the hilltops are in the shadow. Across the meadows you can hear the tinkle of the cowbells, the bark of a dog, the croak of the frog and soon the fire-fly’s begin to go, only we called them (lighten bugs). Slowly the lights fade and then the stars begin to come out, one thing we are bothered with very little and that is mosquitoes, and after a wait of sometime, the moon comes sailing up above the tree tops. It used to remind me of a fire on the other side of hill but there was no grander sight than the moon sailing up over the treetops on a warm summer eve. Those nights was beautiful beyond compare. Mother often called and scolded because I did not want to come in or go to bed on a night like that. The whippoorwills would be out in numbers and their lonesome cry could be heard everywhere and the cry of the screech owl is such a scary creepy cry. I never liked it.

Ruth, so far I have told you of the beautiful things of Ky. And try to give you a true pen picture of them impressions on my heart and life by them. Our’s was a large family and I recall the Sundays were spent as the children grew older in various ways to suit themselves. Dad usually took himself off somewhere and the younger ones to Sunday school but sometimes my farther would be gone several weeks at a time. I can recall several occasions on Sundays, I wasn’t very old and my brothers small, mother would fix a lunch and fill a jug then with a book or her little bible and the 2 dogs my brother and me, set out for a high hill top somewhere. We would climb up to the top or ridge and there under pines and other trees , seated on the ground or pine needles we could look away out along the ridge and see the valley and our home far below us. We would play and race about the trees, pines and chestnuts and oaks, seemed like she knew something nice about all of them and we would have our lunch there and a walk out there, afterwards with mother along, then down to the valley and on the way home. There was many things not so pleasant, but I am writing you a book of pleasant memories now.

 

The fall was a lovely time there too, we began to gather in the fruits and store them for winter use. We cut and dried many peaches and apples gathered and canned all kinds of berries, we could fine them everywhere and then as it grew later the hill took on a different look. There was still plenty of green from the cedars and pine but the leaves of the trees was a riot of colors. There was the reds and gold and yellow. Mother often stopped her work about the farm or yard to show to us some bright bit of color or something we could have missed here and there. She called the hills at this season Gods rainbow of fulfilled promise and as she spoke of the abundance of fruit and harvest and of his care for all of his creatures, we could seem to see his smile in the beauty of nature all around us. Then we would go Ginseng hunting that is the herb or root used in many medicines also yellow root or golden seal. I remember the small of the rich black earth as we used to dig around the roots and pull them out. I used to love to go on those trips. Mother told us many interesting feats about the herbs, we gathered the rhodonrand or ironweed as we called it, it grew in great abundance. We used to gather lots of that and golden-rod our State flower and have a large bunch or them for winter bouquets, and strange as it may seem hay-fever was unknown there, we was not afraid of the flowers or weeds only poison ivy and that never affected me. In the lower part of our yard just over the hill in the fence corner was a tall stump of an old dead tree and this was covered with a heavy growth of Trumpet vine they call it here but my mother called it jessamine, it was lovely in the fall also some black haw trees grew near there. They look something like huckleberries and taste fine then persimmons and papaws grew. There was plenty of all kinds of fruits wild plums and grapes, we always went grape hunting after they had some frost that was often was a all day affair and we would come back with sacks full all we could manage to carry or haul. These grapes grew way back in the hills and coves, were larger than the ordinary wild grape and had a white or frosty sheen to them. Mother was partial to these and we sometimes went several miles to find them. Then we liked to go hazel nut hunting and chestnut hunting, one of the older and stronger boys went along for this, we needed a axe and hammer for shelling the nuts. My brother would shake the trees; we would gather and pile the burs and  what a time everyone would hull out the nuts and by eve we would go home with a supply for winter. I liked to go hazelnut hunting, alls there was hickory nuts and walnuts to gather and late in fall there was persimmons, papaws and black haws the last was a great favorite with us youngsters.

I want to tell you something of my girl friends; I wish you could have such true fine clean minded girl friends as I had. I want to tell you first about Jewell, she was the oldest daughter of uncle John McCann and a sweet girl with a lovely mind, high ideals and principals. She was about 16 when God called her away, we spent many happy hrs in each others company and homes also went to school together she took T.B. the quick kind, she came to see me one Sunday, after dinner we went out in the lower part of our big yard there was 2 big apple trees there, my sister and I had put boxed seats up there and when we wanted to be alone to read or write we often climbed up there and enjoy a quit hour. I remember Jewell and I went out there to the largest tree, two could sit in the seat up there and we settled ourselves to talk, soon Jewell said, Lulie I want to tell you some thing I hate to make you sad but I feel I may never sit in this tree with you again, I am going away before long and I am not coming back I want you to know how I have loved you and will continue to, even after I am gone. I wish you and some of the rest could go too but some day sooner or later you will come and I shall look and wait for you. I know we cried and held each others hand, she told me she was so young she hated to go but was not afraid to go, dear little pal of that long ago time. She was right, she never again sat in the tree with me and early the following spring I seen her layed beneath the sod in the little country graveyard near the church we both loved and where we attended S.S. and I often think of her and know she will be one of the first to welcome me when I go. Then there was Nellie Henderson dear bright Nell with her big brown eyes and olive complexion, your friend Ellen Schmidt looks like her, she had a lovely voice and when we got older led the choir, she married a preacher, had several children and died after I left there what a fine girl she was and how she and I enjoyed being together as girls. Then there was Edith Carr both she and Nell have lost their mothers early in life, Edith lived with her Dad, she was one of the finest and best pals I ever had. She spent lots of weekends at our place and later married a boy there I knew, he only lived a year after they was married, I seen her when I was home on a visit and how she grieved for that lost husband. I hear she is married again and living on a farm near Danville, Ill. But I lost track of her.

 

Chapter 2

 

Then there was Mother Bilyew, how we loved her and how we enjoyed visiting her, I want to take you up the hollow and over that hill someday and show you the old home of course Mother and Dad Bilyew is gone now and strangers live in the old house we used to go there for music party’s and mother and I often went to spend the day how I loved to go over there. Then there was the best friend of all, Maggie the one of the bunch that I still hear from and love the best, our friendship dates back from early babyhood but she left home when about 14 so I lost her early on life but as she stepped back again after all these years and for the past yr has been a great comfort to me as I hope my letters have been to her.

Then there was a group of lesser friends Naude Marshall, Florence & Hattie Parish, Lulu Jackson and many others but I only had, had about 4 real close friends.

I want to tell you about the beauty spots near my home not far from us up on a hollow or cove on aunt Jerusha Brothers farm was a natural spring of clear cold water yellow and black sulpher water both vains run out of the same hill and the springs was side by side, one Sunday a group of us wanted to go up there so mother and aunt Jerusna and Anna Jane the lady who lived with her went with us. There was about 5 couples of us youngsters, we took cups along and went up there. The cove was deep and cool and sort of soft twilight in places although the sun shone bright and hot outside. Around the springs and all up the sides of the hill grew ferns the most beautiful and gorgeous I have ever seen. Sulpher water smells like rotten eggs but tastes fine and cold as ice. I remember how some of the kids held their noses. Some of those ferns grew waist high, there was the long lacy hair ferns the " Boston ferns and so many others, it is one of the most beautiful spots I ever saw. We rested, some of the boys cut wild grape vines and we took turns swinging, it was fun and cut our initials on the big trees there. I will never forget that afternoon of clean good fun. Then there was a spring up a hollar south of this one on my bother John’s place, it came out of the cliffs and rocks poured over the green mossy stones down into a big wooden tub, there was a natural stairway of rocks leading up on top the cliffs and hill above the spring. We used to play there but we had to look out for snakes. Further up another hollow opposite, this one was a cold spring that flowed out of the hill and a basin had been cut in the solid rock, you could see the bottom, made a clear pool of the finest drinking water. The hills was wonderful to play in and many and varied was our games as children, Blackman, Blind man buff, Ante Over, Skip the rope, one of our favorite pastimes was to go down under the hill near the house, choose a bush, bend it over and get up an it and ride it as a horse, by making it spring up and down; often we would fall off and tear our clothe but we always wore old things when we went for a ride. Then we would go down by the branch and find a tall slim willow, climbing to the top we would grasp the center limb and swing up and down to the ground letting it fly back and we would climb up again and again and swing out. We always had playhouses, could play visiting each other. We enjoyed our school days also, life as I look at it was fine and sweet as I look back on it, the girls clean and good the boys respectful and jolly good times. We do not appreciate our homes and parents enough when we have them and sometimes our friends either. I always loved our Sunday school, I hope to be able to take you to that little country church some day and show you about, there is many interesting things I can tell you there, memories how they come back to us after all the years, how fine some of them are, people say it is a rough country and the hill people ignorant and uneducated but I found much of the beautiful in everything there. People were neighborly and most of them willing to share all they had with one another. To me Ky. Stands for the fairest and best in my life, I love every mountain, valley and hill in all her varying moods. I have watched a storm come up on a hot summer afternoon and pass. The sun come out and shine on a world washed clean, raindrops hanging and flashing like diamonds on trees and bushes. The rose bushes bending under a load of water soaked blossoms, the air heavy with the perfume of countless flowers, the clean smell of the wet earth and grass. The birds out and singing like mad for joy. I have looked on all this loveliness and felt the tears sting my lashes and I have thought, can heaven be more beautiful or purer than this and my soul come close and touched the divine being who created it all. Again I have aros4 at 4 o’clock on the morn when the dew was heavy on the earth and a fog covered the entire valley and hills, thick and damp like a wet blanket, I have heard the first call of the birds, seen the sky change and brighten and walked to the top of the hill to see the sun rise and as it climbed higher and higher see the fog gradually being to lift and whirl away before the heat of the Suns rays, how God must love the hills and valleys for he has made them so beautiful. I can sympathize with the feelings of the early settlers for if it is so beautiful now what must it have been in its wild state. I have known of peace and contentment there and there I found God or he found me. I hope to go back some day and there renew my covenant with him once more before I die. I am glad I got to visit the Cumberland Mts. Also saw there many points of interest including Cumberland Gap or Wilderness Road and found the people kind and friendly, much given to hospitality and ready to share what they had with others, I loved it all. I will tell you of one girl who never had a chance, she was easily led and fell into bad company and ways but I liked her, she used to visit our place a lot and my mother was always kind and good to her. Her mother came from the Cumberland Mts. Not far from where my mother came from she was a widow and very poor and like lots of other mothers she set a bad example before Ida, she never sent her to school or church and she was a very pretty girl, my heart used to ache for her, she used to lay her head in my lap and cry because she didn’t have a home like other girls and gave me good advise about staying clear of men. I am sure her influence was not bed for us and I know she enjoyed visiting us. She married and died before I left there, she had two little girls, one she named Lulie -pal. I have often wondered what become of them. We had many pets’ lots of dogs and cats, once a pet crow, we called him Bobby and 2 pet squirrels, Bobby was the cutest though. We had plenty of work to do also it was not all play, we had a big garden upon the bench back of the house, you went up a hill then out on the flat or bench till you came to the garden. I can see it yet, we raised all kind of vegetables and there was gooseberries, pie-plant and sage. Mother and I used to go up and work in the garden in the afternoon and how hot it seemed and how glad I was when we could pick up our water pails and going out the bench a ways further, go down under the hill to the cold spring and get a good cold drink of water and some to take home. Our Post Office was four miles away and many morn I would take a basket of eggs and walk there and back before dinner, no it was not all fun, we learned to use our legs and walk there and thought nothing of it. I remember Nellie H and I walked it one morn and we met a boy we knew as we were coming back, he said, good morn Lulie, good morn Nellie its nice and warm today, we said, Yes, he said Yes Sir, and the pike is nice and dusty. I remember how we laughed when we passed on, we didn’t somehow enjoy the heat and dust as Husten did. There was many odd characters scattered around there in the hills. I wish you could have heard them talk; and so I have wandered, the world is wide, far from the State I’d love to see, but then I’ve found at last that she, means all the world to me. When we was young and had company for dinner the children was not allowed to eat with the older people, my job was to stand behind my furthers chair and keep a long handled brush or streamer moving to see that no stray flies settled on the food, my sister who was older and bigger than me waited on the table, try and imagine how you would fee, standing by a table loaded with pie and cake, mashed potatoes, gravy, green-beans and corn, fried chicken, hot biscuits, then just stand there and see the preacher and Slidin Elder and maybe 3 or4 more, eating it all up and hear Ms insist on the preachers taking another biscuit, many time when you knew there wouldn’t be enough for the kids that was  left, Well, that has been my predicament many times. I remember once two girls had come home with us from church and we was having ham and hot biscuit there was no flies to switch that day so we was keeping pretty close watch as we waited on the table, just as we started out in the kitchen for more biscuits and coffee the preacher cackled and reached over in the meat platter and took the last slice of ham, then much to our disgust and surprise he took a half of a biscuit and wiped out the plate, we was awful hungry, when we got out in the kitchen Rose turned around and shook her fist at the dining room door and said, “yeh cackle, cackle you old son of a (so and so) and leave us starve, I thought that Lill would blow up, we couldn’t laugh very loud either, then she put on the skillet and put more ham on to fry. I have laughed over that many times since, mother did too when we told her about it, those was happy days.

We never could interrupt when older people were talking, our parents said children were to be seen and not heard. We haft to say, Yes Sir No Sir or Mam as the case might be. One of the dearest and sweetest old Ladies I ever knew was Aunt Elizabeth Fitch; always called her Betty; I was a favorite of hers, and she taught me many things, she always said I could cook the best tomatoes she ever ate, it was quite a little ways over to our house, she would come over for milk, mother would always slip a lb. Of butter down in the milk so Dad would not know and ask questions or know that she had given it. We would always set out a lunch for her when she came and she would always bow her head and say grace before she started to eat, she was a devout Christian and so thankful for everything, we all love her, then there was Marier Pool who used to ride upon her side saddle and long black riding skirt floating in the breeze and stay to dinner but very soon after dinner she would say, well Ancy, get my hoss, I’ve got to go home now, gee but Andrew hated to see her come. She always lit into him for something, but us other kids liked her she talked so funny and snapped her eyes lids shut in such a funny way and some times she smoked a pipe, O we did sure enjoy aunt Marie. Then there was the old lady I told you about aunt Vick McCly was she ever funny, nut she didn’t come as often as some of the others. One of the most happy and pleasant times I can remember is when my sister and I Maggie and Nell used to go gathering wild flowers the older girls would leave us and soon we would be deep in the woods that grew near our home. I wish you could see the violets that grew down there, they were purple, white and delicate pink and such long stems as they have, how we loved them and May day blossoms there was so many I do not know the names of them all. Then along the streams was many kinds of ferns, we used to go and get great bunches of them and mother had two tall stone jars for pickles and they was tall as stone churns, we would clean out the fire-place fill it with cut cedar and pine, then set up the screen----to the woods and gather armfuls of tall ferns, then place them in the jars on either side of the fireplace, always there flowers and green plants in the house and big bouquets of fall flowers for winter.

 

Today is Easter Sunday, April 21, 1935 as I lay here alone, I or you and Daddy are at church, My mind goes back to Easter Sundays of long ago, some of the as beautiful as this and warmer we always attended S.S.  And church on those days and many happy memories are mine. I used to hurry home and after dinner with books and dogs mother and I would set out for a walk in the hills and fields, and not get in often till sundown, when we had the cows to milk, chickens to feed eggs to gather and supper to prepare. I love to recall all the pleasant things we used to do, sometimes we would go over the hill and up a deep ravine where there was cold clean water running over moss covered rocks, then down the other side of the steep hill to mother Bilyews, how I lived to go there, there was no girls there my age but there was so much of interest there in books, music and a big yard. They had a old shepherd dog and we used to go up in the orchard above the house and play. I would lay in a bed of grass for hrs. watching the clouds sail by and when Old Rover got tired if digging for moles and chasing rabbits he would come back, curl up close tome and go to sleep, yes I had lovely times in my child hood days, we had a big grapevine swing down under the hill a ways Dad and Blaine cut it loose near the ground, spit it up the center nailed a broad board seat in the split and we could sit and swing it was great. Another thing Blaine made was to take a wide plank board and bore a hole in the center, in the barnyard was a big old stump of a tree several ft. high he took a iron pin, drove it thru the center of board into the center of the stump and then one kid got on either end and we would run around fast till we got it going fast then by laying across the board on our stomachs we got the sensation of flying something like the things we called ocean wave in our parks today, then teeter totter a plank thru the fence, a kid in either end, and that was also fun, work and play we had plenty of both, horse back riding was another pleasant diversion and shooting with bow and arrow, rifle and pistol, playing Indian and hunter in the hill, often the Indian chased Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton we did everything but burn each other at the stake. It was lots of fun building an Indian village, we liked to play hide and seek in the moonlight and ante over. One thing I always loved was to sit out in the yard in the moonlight and with mother and Dad and the rest of the family, sing songs and tell stories of Civil War days or early Settler days, many tales of daring and bravery was told also ghost stories, don’t believe those are so good for children though. Nowhere does the moonshine brighter than in the hills of Old Ky. And the stars millions of them, so big and bright and close and the mournful hoot of the owl is heard and the weary screech of the screech owl and the loud call of the whippoorwill a land of dreams and a land that will always be beautiful. The people will change and the ties change but the hills and MTs. Are ever the same that is why they are so wonderful to me.  I often stood on a high hill overlooking the valley in which I lived and as the wind passed over the trees and pines they seemed to be trying to tell me things out of the past. I could picture the Village of Indians down on Quick’s Run not so far away from my home. I could imagine I was looking at a crowd of them on their ponies, riding across the meadow lands, their war bonnets flashing in the sun and then I would wonder if some early white settler had not stood where I was and seen it all. Many times perhaps the great Boone himself. KY. Has been rightly named for they tell us Kentucky as the Indians pronounce it means Beautiful Land of Dreams, it is a place to dream in and one can well imagine it’s wild and glorious beauty in it’s primitive state. No wonder the Indians fought for it and Boone loved it. The Cumberland Mts. Was settled by a race of men almost gone now, the Scotch, Irish, what fighters they were, my mothers people were all Cumberland Mt. People and she loved it with a great love and taught me many of its beauties. For years Ruth I’ve planned a trip down to take you to all these places I know and loved, I wonder if ever I can now. I imagine I could never now climb those hills to take you to the top of Sunrise hill on Dads farm to see the sun come up and out on slate ridge and up east of our house to Pine ridge, O so Many places, you would love it I know but if I get better we will surly go some day and worship God on a hill somewhere under some tall pines and maples, chestnuts with the winds in the tree tops for our orchestra and the valley below us for our text and sermon and Gods love all around us.

 

            July 24,1935 Well Ruth, I guess you will maybe see some of these places but of course now with Dad or someone and not with me for I am going away into a far country where you will someday join me. It is Gods will and we must see it that way, you know how it is when you have worked hard all through the year then you begin to plan a trip or vacation you make ready by getting your trunk or suit case ready, we plan each step, then look forward with a great deal of pleasure to the actual journey, even to buying out ticket and hearing the conductor say,” All Aboard”, so it is on this journey only you get a one way ticket and you don’t come back, your ticket is got thru prayer and faith, often through much suffering but all our lives is simply a preparation for this change. Jesus is our conductor and this faith in him we face the new venture. The new journey, they tell is, it is a lovely place, no sorrow there. God grant it may be so. So live your life to get ready when the time comes. I am leaving you to carry on where I left off. You are better trained than I was, it is a joy to know you can take my place in the church and do even better work than I did and may the God who has thus far supplied all my needs, also take care of yours and Dads. It will comfort you someday to know I am out there ahead of you, just as I feel my father and mother will be waiting for me, but I am putting all my trust in Jesus, that by his help I can get safely over. Never neglect your prayer life, people and circumstances may hinder you in your religious life but they can never over come your prayer life that is hid alone with God. Learn to pray in public for that is needed but your greatest strength will come thru your inner prayer life. You have ever been a joy and comfort to us and I thank God daily for you. Go to aunt Molly for help and advise and trust your Dad. He will if he keeps his word to me, you will still have 4 happy years of school ahead of you so I must close, I hope you will like this little book, I wrote it for you so Good Bye till we meet again. Always, your loving Mother.