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Full text of "Reminiscences of my home : read at the family reunion, Feb. 18, 1902 ; The 50th anniversary of the marriage of father and mother"

Gc M. L 

929.2 

M36003m 

1950195 



RbYNOLUS HlolOKiCAL 
GENEALOGY COLLECTION 



ALLEN COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY 



3 1833 01414 9097 



K e m i niscen.ce^ 
of j\/ry Ho oie 



Kf.-l(l Ml 



IMie K.ariiilv Re-Iliii* 



)ii. 



Kebriiiiry l.'S, ISJOU 



^^^'^/.V; 



ii \\ '>n./.vt. 



Tlie P^iftietli A 



II n I x'ei^tsr i r\- 



ot tilt? ^vI.Mrrii:^o;t' ol h": 1 1 1 it- r ;.j n< I Mt>tlH 



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1950195 







homestead: 



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V ',''-. 



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Hiick nny 7 



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Front 



Family Group, 



Taken ill year 1002 and iiiinibeicd in order of tlieir 
birth as follows: 



+ Fa tiler. 

1 Mollie. 

2 Ida. 

8 Ellie. 

4 Liiura. 



+ Afother. 

5 Willie. 

() Dick 

7 Hannah. 

8 Mat. 



9 Joe 

10 Luther. 

11 Florence. 

12 Omar. 
18 Forest. • 



INTRODUCTION. 



You who are assembled here today, listen to me and I 
will a tale unfold. Not the story of The Chuzzelwit Family, 
nor the history of Swiss Family llobinson, but the story of 
a simple, peasant life, the history of a family reared amid 
rural, country scenes. 



A Remarkable Family. 



This is a remarkable family from a numerical stand- 
point, there being that awful, mysterious, superstitious, 
dreadful iiumber 18 children. Many curious stories are 
told about this number. During the late Spanish-American 
Avar it is said that the soldier, in many of the companies, 
wearing the number 13, was killed. A young man who 
formerly went to school to me was one of the unfortunate 
ones He was the 13th in his regiment. A recent railroad 
accident occurred 13 miles i'rom a certain town, the bridge 
that went down had 13 spans in it. The number of the 
train's crew was 13. Tlie number killed in the wreck was 
13. And so these instances might be multiplied, but, suffice 
it to say, tliat there are luany today who fear the number 
13 as they do death. Hut with all tlie superstitions that 
cluster about this number, and with tlie long train of at- 
tendant evils connected with it, T ^et believe it still has vir- 



i l-'ii -( 



>il 



tuc. Did you ever stop to think Iuav luaiiy lliiii<'S this num- 
ber suggests? Tlie sum of the digits multiplied hy tlie 
right hand digit gives 12 and ilie ditt'ereiice of the digits 
multiplied by the right hand digit gives thf half of 12 or (1 
The same relation is true with the number reversed For 
instance, the number reversed is 81. The sum of the digits 
multiplied by the right hand digit gives 4, and their ditl'cr- 
ence multiplied by tin- ligli hand digit gives the half of 4 
or 2 Then, again, the tiMi added to the number obtained 
\)y multiplying the right-hand digit by the ditferenei' of 
the digits and this sum sulnracted from rhe number 
re\eised gives 15, the total numbei- of this family. 

The light hand digit of this nnnibei' is connected with 
the most wonderful problems of geometry, the problems of 
the triangle. The triiingle has three sides and three angles 
There aie three Hinds of triangles. The sum of two sides 
of a tiiangle is gn^ater than the third side The difference 
of two sides is less than the thiid side The sum of tln^ three 
angles of a triangle is equal to two right angles. Triangles 
are eipial when a side and two adjacent angles of the one 
equal respectively a side and two adjacent angles of the 
other, when two sides and the includ(3d angle of the one 
equal resijectively to twu sid(^3 and the in( luded angle of 
the other, and when three sides of one ecjual res]»ectively 
to the three sides of the other, and so on until we reach 
the ])rettiest problem of the triangle, commonly known as 
the 47tli problem of Phiclid Thus it is seen that in <'a(h 
of the above problems three things ai-e mentioned, and three 
is an important digit in the number \',i 

The left hand di''it of the num]>er is the beginniu"- of 



>■ 1 






all matliematical onmuenition. Tlieie must be a one before 
there can be a iioo. There must be. a one hundred, before 
there can be a two huiidied, -Aone thousand before a ftro 
rlioiisand and so on iiilinito. 

The number 18 has a scieiitihc value. It introduces us, 
at ouce, to the study of the fundamental of tlui^ ])hysical 
scieiices, chemistry. There are 13 of the n(»n-metalic ele- 
ments froiu which all the ^ases and acids known to human 
a,f;ency are manufactured Acids used in assaying and 
as dissolvents, those used as medicine aud as <lisiufectants. 
Gases, w<' inluile jind exhjile, those we burn and those 
used by the medical profession 

Then this uuuibei- is indirectly, if uot directly, cou- 
nected with the study of astronomy, for the various phases 
of tilt* moon in its rev(»lutions has given rise to the 1:5 luuar 
months in our calendar y<'ar. It was the absence of moou- 
liglit that caused those Chalda'n shepherds to make obser- 
A'ations aud to lix nuiny of the relations now believed to 
exist between the stars and ]^lanets of our Sidereal system. 
The Great Dipper and its position with inference to the 
North Star, the constellation known as the Seven Sisters 
and others are matters now of common helief. Hut the 
Great Dipper is mad*' up of se\en stars and so is the con- 
stellation of the Se\en Sisters: hence the number 18 is 
(dosely related to and connected with tliai famous, biblical 
number. 7. Who has notheaid of the \ iitue of the numbei' 
7'{ Seven times around the walls of Jeiico caused theni to 
fall, seven dips in the river cleansed of the lejjrosy, the 
seven fat kine and the seven lean kine indicative of the 
se\cu yeais of jfleiity and the se\ eu years of lamine. 



But rliis not all. The number 18 has u valuable liis- 
torioal connection. It will encompass the greatest men of 
military fame. Joshua who commanded the sun to stand 
still until he could whip the Phillistines. Alexander who 
cried because there were no more worlds to conquer, 
A'erxes who crossed tlie Hellespont with the largest army 
known to human history. Caesar who conc^uered Rome 
in sixty days after he crossed the Rubicon, and who penned 
the laconic dis])atch, *'Veni, Vidi, Mci — T came, I saw, I 
rontiuercd." Napoleon who revolutionized France and 
made hiiiiself master of the French people in a few brief 
years. Biuce who freed Scotland fjom British invasion. 
Wellingtoir who saw Napoleon's star of destin}' set at 
Waterloo. Wjishington who freed the American colonies 
from the tyranny of British oppression, and who was first in 
war, first in peace and first in the hearts of his countrymen, 
•lacksou who was known as the hero of New Orleans. Scott 
of Mexican lenown, Grant the great Union general, IjCB 
the famous confederate general, and Dewey the hero of 
Manila. Moreover, the United States consisted at lirst of 
13 Colonies which have since increased and expanded until 
lii(\V now number some 45 or 40 states. So with this family; 
it has increased until the number including the children, 
the grand-children, the great grand-children, sons in-law, 
daughters-in law is now 46. Concerning the colonies, 
Washington once said, "We are one nation today and 
thirteen tomorrow." So with us, we are one family today 
))ut ])ractically thirteen tomorrow. So after all, 1 am di.s- 
posed to believe that those who look upon the number I'A 
with such dire superstitions and forebodings of evil, nuiy 



'\y - , 






j! ,-. ;• '? ■ ■ ■,>('; ■(■>:.* /•'!' 



be mi.staken. For certainly il would seem so when applied 
to tliis family. 

This is a remarka))l(3 famil}^ in that, of all this numhrr, 
none liave l)ecome famous, nor have any as yet bc^-ome in- 
famous. AVe have n(»t heard of a single one who has 
])e('ome one of tile world's mone],^ ('hani;ers. wlio has pla3'ed 
U])()n the i)()ai(l of Trjide and cornei'ed the grain markets 
of tlie world, who lias yet become a railroad magnate, a 
cattle kiui!,-, or the merchant i)rince of his day. Nor have any 
a<'cumulated any great amount of this woild's goods, unless 
it be some of the girls who luu'e marritMl. as Josh l^illings 
says "(bitside of the family, and thereby ae([uiredllie 
means of whieh they do not Jiave full })ossession." Nor 
have we heiird of any gieat statesnu^n, mathematicians, 
scientists or literary celebrities coming from this family. 
No authors, no poets, no orators — none who are likel}' to 
write their names on the scroll of lame. 

But we are glad to record the fact that all are respected 
in the communities in which they live, that ihey are honest, 
ui)right, industrious, useful citizens and good neighbors. 
To nie this is fai' better than all the accumulated wealth of 
the i)ast, the gold of Ophir, or the diamonds of Golconda. 

Yet thei-e is another remarkable thing that exists in 
this family. Of all the children, icared as we were on this 
old farm, surrounded by the serines of country life, edu- 
cated and trained in the duties and labors of the farm, there 
are only two of all this number who I'eallv can l>e co)isid- 
<'red farmers. Of the six boys only one remains lo tell the 
stoiy of the faini, and I understand that he is re;id\ to 
lea\e it as soon as an op])ort unity presents itself. The 



others liavc Icfr tliu (iiiietiidt' of the farm tV^r the noisy, 
busy life of the town or (•it3\ Yet tliere may liave l>eeii a 
well toiinded reason foi- tliis; for to have given each of the \',> 
chihlrrn a farm, such as a farmer of today shonhl liave, 
meant a distril)ntion by long (li\ision. r)nt how many 
men in ]laMdol])li county own enough land to give eacli of 
thirteen a farm of 100 acres? Or granting tlmt the girls 
man-ied men who own their own farn»s, how man}' men 
wonld have hecn able to give each of six boys a farm of 
the alio\ .• numher of acres ( To each of 1 he al)o\ •' (|uestions 
my fathei- was not al)h' to give a fa\dral>l(3 icsiionse. l)iit 
there may lia\ e been another reason for se(d;ing the nil'an 
life; lieing at all times a very large family, our social 
natures must Imve been highly de\(do})e(b We lo\-ed each 
(jtliei' rheii. as we do now. \\'(^ ]ila} c'(l togel her, weeiiji yed 
each other's society and we always had a good tinie. Ihit, 
as the older members became of age and eithei' married or 
left the honu'stead. the others mitnrally souglit that society, 
'H>y and jdeasure to w liich they had l>een accustomed Not 
liuding this on the old farm, ihey ver\ natuially drifteil 
away from it into the towns and cities. I'ut this condition 
of atl'airs is true in a great many fannlies of the ])resent 
generaliiHi. E\eiy'body is lining to get into the townsand 
cities, ami so congested is the niban ])i)])nlation of toda}', 
that the condition arising theitdVom consiitiiles one of the 
gi-eate-:t social proi>lems of the age. 

Something mnst be done !»» Ivcep the boys and girls on 
the faiins. and I am tiaily sorry that more of our fainil}', 
esjieciall}' the boys, are not farmers. The cities must h»ok 
to the great agricnltiiral districts for siippiu't. .\s the great 



Silver ('liain})i()]i said in his famous Cliica^o spcccli : '•IJuni 
i down A'oiii- cilies, and your cities will spring- up a,uain as if 
l)y nia.uic; l)Ul destroy ourt'ai'ius and the <irass will grow in 
the streets of evej-y city in tin- country.'' 

Again, this family is leiuarkaM*' in the deptli. power, 
rttrengtli and intensity of the family tie. We aic brothers 
and sist<'rs today as much as we \Nei-e in the da}s gone by 
wln-n we ^\•ere children around the same fireside and at the 
same fannly altar. Time; distance, change (d' scein-s and 
of intei'cst have not weakened, l)ut have strengtheiu'd tins 
faniils feeling. How ble,sse(l it is that brothers and sist<'rs 
(•an dwell together in iiidty, that with the diversity of in- 
terests and witli the midliiilied res])onsi Wilities of life, that 
with (Uirown families and the jdeasures and duties aiising 
tlierefioiu. ueha\t' ne\eryet lost the love, the feeling and 
I he inteii'sl in I he home of our childhood da_\ s. 

I veni ure the a-^sertion thai should ealamitv hefall any 
nu'ml)er of this family, the otheis N\oidd move as if hy 
magic tti his idief and would con hi hut e ol' his m.-ans r\ en 
to the division of his last penny. 1 trust that it nniy iumci- 
he otherwise for tlds is tin- kei'uel, t he ]»o\ver and the secret 
of onr fa mily iiidty . 

Ibii the iiiosi remarkable thing connected with this 
faiuih i> the \'in-[ thai the destroyinu' angel, death, has not 
\cl iii\ade(l its lanks, Where on the face of the iireen 
glohii would you go to lind anothei' family so large and so 
i\)\\ unali' f ( 'iMtaiidy . the (ii\ er of all u->od izifts has ])oured 
out lii> richest hlessiims n])oii n< in the iialiiic of life. 
Ilea It h and liap})ines<. 

We lia\e.all i)assed throuiih the jjeriod of childhood 



i ' , t 



and youth and iiiaiiy of us far into luanliood and woman- 
hood. Some already liave the snows of many winters 
spiinkled al)out thoir Itrows. They now have cliildi'eii and 
,<i-raiHl-chiidren of their own, and so the family has ^rowu' 
until it now consists of four t;-eneratious. 1 believe that 
this condition is sufficient to challenge the admiration of 
all mankind. 



My Recollections of the Different Mem. 
bers of this Family. 



.My earliest. positi\«' memory of sister .Mollie dates 
hack to my lirst da\' in school, though I am not sure but 
that she had s}»aidved me many times before then. It was in 
the Spring of the year that I followed her to school to meet, 
for the tirst time, that awfid si^'cter, the "skule maiin." 

Mollie was a beautiful girl. She had a gentle nature, 
a modest and retiring disposition. She was studious, 
thoughtful, obedient and popular with her sclioohuates 
and her teachers. She was always very solicitous about 
the other children of the family, caring for them and look- 
ing after their interests at school as Mother would <lo at 
home. She would spread the noon day lunch and ap])ortion 
the same with great care among us. We all carried our 
school troubles and grievances to her for adjustment and 
to this day, I look u])on her as my fostei' mother. 

I remember distinctly the day she was married. Ft 
was a keen, shar]), frosty morning. The sky was (dear and 
eai'ly the ijiNited gusts began to anive. 1 hung aiound the 



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I .! M'i 



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M* 



fi-unt door steps in the nun to keep my feet warin and to 
walcli Ui<^ uriiviil of relatives and friends. I stood at the 
fi'ont door hy tlie side of my fatlier wliile tlie ceremony 
was l)eing said, and! shall never fdi-uct the impiession that 
scene made upon me. Wlim I saw lier leavt- tlie house by 
ihe sid'' of the one she had chosen as her life companion, 
I he feeling ol' sadness and soriow which came over me will 
follow me to my grave. 

Ihit after MoUie left, sister Ida hecame the leader and 
the oni' to whom we, as children, naturally turne<l for conn- 
sel and guidance She was fully etjiial to theresponsi- 
hilitv and filled the vacant place with nincli satisfaction lo 
us all, though it was a long time before we could accusloni 
ouisehes to the continued absence of Mollie. 

Ida was always of a Jolly, ha))])y nature, full of life, 
merriment and fun. She believed in a good time and al- 
ways had it where\'er she went. She seemed to be ])eifect- 
ly at home in any thing and everything she undertook to 

do. 

At all gatherings where conx ersation and l)Iay of any 
kind were the leading entertainment and amusement of tlie 
hour. Ida was ahvays mistress of ceremonies. She was one 
of the best actors in a charade 1 ever saw, suiting the action 
to the word and the word lo the action. In addition to 
this, she i-ecited well and her inteijirelation of ])ieces was 
most excellent. 

1 remeinl)er that 1 was somewhat slo\\' to recognize 
Ida's supremacy in matters pertaining to the children. 
Uut one little incident wlii(di 1 shall here relate seiNcd to 
settle this (piestion and to ])UI to rest forever any doubt in 
m\- mind as to her authority. 



' 1 ; , : , J 1 



10 



It was jiart of our daily duty to help Motlicr milk and 
to cai-li was a.sr^igiu'd a certain cow. 1 was to milk old 
iiosf, as we called lier. and Ida was to milk old Li/. One 
cold iiioiniug ,iust after a saow, I liajiiHiiied to be the first 
one to reach the ndlk ])en and lindinu' Ida's vow at tln^ 
l>lace of milking, I decided to milk her ralher than trudge 
through the snow to dri\"e up my own. 1 had hardly com- 
menced the task when Lhi appeared upcvn the sceiu' anel 
immediately Ix-gan to interiogale nu- as to why I should 
be milking her cow. I replied that 1 was cold and that 
old lA/. was the lirsi cow I saw in place and 1 ha<l decided 
lo iiulk //cr. She reastnied with me and trieil to show me 
that I was \sr(jng, but 1 was in lU) condition at ihat time to 
l)e coiiN inct'd. finally, she demanded of me that I should 
go u'el my own cow. 1 positiNcly lelhsed (o c(>m}ily with 
the demand. Now, I shall not relate \\'hat took place th«'i-e 
and tinn, l>nt my coat receixcd a thorough dusting that 
morninu- and J linally went after my own cow. But not 
)>eing sati.-^licd with Lla's adjustnuuit of the case, 1 cairied 
the mattei- to father ami .Mothei- for linal settlenieid. Thev 
(h'cidcd that Ida was light. I do not beliew; that I (Wfr 
([uestioned Ida's authority after this im'ideiit. 

Ida ^^•as married in nndwinter. It was one of those 
old fashioned, cold winteis when the snow not onl\' lay 
dee]) on the ground, but was ])iled in gieat drifts here and 
theie that blocke(l all passage. I leinember this w«dl for I 
had grow n sullicieutly to be general lackey boy and did 
s})ecial ser\ice on this occasion. I was sein oni to bu\ 
egL^s to nuike the rakes and eg^nog foi' the comiiiL:- event. 
It seemed at this tim<' that the old hens had uone on a 



1 1 



sti'iki',f()i- oa'gs were very scarcr and tln' price was mmaual- 
Iv liiiili. It took lilt' sincral (lavs to }»rociir<* tlic icquiriMl 
iiuniher. but 1 tiiially tlid so. 

Tlie weddiiiu' was a \<'iy lar.u<' one. despite the cx- 
treiiily cold ucatlici-. it seemed to me that rveiybody was 
tlieie, Ida uastlie veiy i)ictiire of beauty and hope to iiu', 
as she stood l)cl'oi*' the iiianlaui- ;iltar. How eaiiiestly she 
took tlie mat liauo \(i\vs and how lirndy she has ke})t th(Mn. 
Al iieh of tixe sunshine ol" our hone- wt-nl out wlicii she was 
lakcn a\\;i}'. 

I now stc]) more into i he '(hunaiii of actual exi)erii'nce 
\\hcii 1 take u}i I'dlie and Ijania. the two sisters w lu) _joint I \' 
succeeded |(hi. They uiideistood eneh other jx'rfectly and 
were the most (h'\oti'd sisters then and are now that I lia\e 
i'\-er seen, 'lliey Were always to,u'ethei' One wtudd not 
o() withoul the oihei'. Wdiat one de-^ired tlie other wanted, 
w h;il one said the oilier saiiclioiied. w hat one did the oilier 
;ippio\ ed, and ;il)out the only diU'eience of opinion that 
e\t'i' existed keiween ihein was in the select ion. of their 
liusl)aiids. The}' did marry ditfereni men. 

1 went with the'u most everywhere, imt as a paui; luit 
more as a companion, for I had now mown old enough lo 
stop lidinii,' behind and to take n horse foi- myself. WC 
went sisitini;- toueiher. we went to }»icnics and ])arlies and 
to (diiirch toi;'elher. I'^'roni these eommou eX]>erience.N there 
sjjianii' 11)) a c()mp;inion--hip akin to atimiration We told 
each oilier of lilt; nice lhin<_;-s that were saitk 1 ifpoiied It) 
them about the boys and lliey to me about the <i;iils. When 
about ihe htuise. I was with them at their work, eilhei dis 
cussing wlial lia<l taken place on soim' pie\ ions neeasiouoi 
what we would tlo at some future tinu'. 



(. ! I 



I'i 



KIlic was one of the liaudiest ])ersoii.s with the scissois 
and needle I cvit saw. Slie could cut, tit aiul uuike most 
au^•tlliuo: in the way of clotliini!- .she desired. Ilci- clotliiiiir 
always ht as though they had glow n dii lier. Siie had ex- 
ceUent judgment and tast(?. It was to her 1 usually went 
to advise about my own clotliing, codar and tie, hat, coat, 
vest, pants, etc. Her ai)])idval was sullicieiit. Ht'r ad\ ice 
linal. 

I'illie was an excejuioiuiliy good litih' giil 1 am tohl. 
it is said of her that she uouhl phi}- for hours alone, that 
she was never contentious and that site was easily 2jleased 
and satislied I know that she was a ^(mmI girl at school 
and a har<l student. The subject of aiithmelic was alwa\s 
difhcult for her. It was the l)ugl)ear of hei- school room 
existaiice. 1 have seen her many a time go to slee]) o\rr 
this lesson at night. Ihit she never ga\(^ uj), she would 
nod awhile and try it again. She always a]>])eared e;is\' 
and natural in conveisatioii and manner at home and in 
society. What she did and said seemed ro bi^ the most 
natural thing to do and to say, and best of all she has 
ever l)eeii willing to assist the younger children in their 
ill tem])ts to get a start. 

Tjaura was natuially endowed with a strong intellect 
and a brilliant inuigination. She conid jtlaii a, narrative 
with correct ju'Oi^ortions. Tlie (diaracters and scenes would 
blend in ])eifect harmony. So com}ilete the plot, so well 
did the characters act their ])arts, .so natural and well suited 
the scenes that it was indeed dillicuit to believe the story 
to be tictitious. She seemed to Ihink the narrative Ihroiigh 
an<l to know where aiul how to Iniug in the ]iarts in order 
to giv I' the stoiy complete unity. 



•J- h 



r b: 



1^ 

81ie was gifted with a melodious voioi^ and could sing 
most anything that .she liad ever heard suiif;-. With tlic 
strcntli, eoniiDass and command she had of her voice, 1 
believe, if trained, she wouhl have mad»* a gi-eat singer. I 
speak tenderly and comi)assionatt'ly of sister Laura be- 
cause of her early atlliction. I painfully remember when 
she had to be kept in a dark room on account of her afflict- 
ed eyes. Those of us who were tlien in the family vied 
with each oi!ier in paying our devotions to her, and words 
fail to express our Joy Avhen we realized tliat lier eyesight 
would be it^stored. 

I remember that 1 once stood ou the bank of an excited, 
swollen stream, just after a big rain, and saw Laura fall 
in. She sank twice out of sight and was about to sink the 
third time, when, as 1 believe to this day, it was by a 
stroke of ])rovidence she was saved. 

Lanra is a i)e]son of the very tenderest sympathies, 
and in the power and stre'ugth of her devotion to the family 
she excels us all. Elbe and Lauia, as was Mollie and Ida, 
were both o])edient, good girls and genuine, true sisters. 
They were my hrst real companions and, looking back to 
that period, 1 believe now that T was really devoted to them. 

T would do violence to the story, at this ])oint, were I 
Jiot to mention what seems too me to have been the atlopted 
iueml)er of this famil}*. Noah Birkhead. Noah was an own 
<-ousin who ha<l come to board with us, but fioni the tiist 
was treated as a menibei' of tlu^ family. He was one of the 
purest boys 1 ever knew. He was honest and upiiuht in 
all his dealings. Noah Joined our ciiM h- and there wei-e 
foui- of us, instead of three, to vie with each, othei- in the 



1 - 



14 



good rimes we tlicii had. ' He most ulwiiys went with Laura 
and tliey always appeared to have a great deal to talk 
al)out. He wouhl consult Laui'A aljcmt matters as I woukl 
Ellie, and so nothing was evei- thought of tlu' attentions he 
])ai(l to her. I noticed, howev(^r, tiiat Noah was a little 
sh»w to pay attention to other girls. His hrst consideration 
was for Kllie and Lauia, but when sifted to its final analy- 
sis, it was always for Laura. lie had the tenderest 
solicitude for her, earefid and thoughtful of her interest 
and ])lt.isure. ^\'hen Laura was old enough, they w^'re 
married. Nu one could have objected to this match, 
though related as they were, for it was the result of love 
])ure and simple. As I view it now, it seems to me that 
Noah and Laura Just grew up together and were mated. 
Noah was one of the truest friemls I ev<'r had, and I can 
n<'\er look u])on him in any other light than that of a 
leal luotliei-. 

1 couK' now to ont' of the most energetic, hustling, 
stirring members of the family, commonly known as Little 
Dick. Dick was a very fat little fellow and could sleep 
longei- and oftener than any of ns. He was ver)- hard to 
waken of moridngs. He went to bed early and got uj) late, 
and. if he had half a chance, would sleep some during the 
<lay. But this seeming inactivity was nothing more than 
a matter of latent energy or ])ent U]) force which has given 
vent in later \'ears to a most active, business life. Dick 
was always an iideresting character to 7ne because of his 
individuality. H(^ thought foi- himself, made nj) his own 
unnd about matters and things, acted on his owii Judgment, 
ami kept his owncounsel. 



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ihyi'''- 



15 

His fust day in school was clianictcristlc of the V)oy. 
At noon us Uncle Dit'k Martin wlio was hauling rails from 
the '"big woods," passed l)y with a load, Dick hopped up 
on the wagon and went home. AVhen he reached home he 
was asked why he came home, and he said 'because he had 
learned all that teacher ''knowed" and he thought he might 
as well come home.' Dick liad little fondness for books 
and he acted as though the scviool was too little a thing 
for him to ^ol with, ilis thoughts were more of a practi- 
<'al, business nature. 

He and I have done many a hard day's work together 
on this (dd farm, but Dick was always too slow for me. 1 
could never get him to hurry unless we were linishing uj) 
a ])iece of work. He would then increasi' his speed and 
both of us would stiike up a whistle. Father used to say 
that the whistle was an unfailing sign of a task tiuished or 
a piece oi' work comi)leted. l?ut oiu' thing was jujticeabh'. 
When Dick was through with a ])ieci! of work it was well 
done. This was not always true of my work. I was gen- 
erally in a huny. 1 believed in quantity rather than (jual- 
ity. I had exalted ideas and was sonu'what of an exi)an- 
sionist, as one little incident will show. When mothei- had 
(h'cided that I should w<Mir pants instead of dresses, I 
insisted that she should cut my ])anta out by Uncle Dick's 
pattern. 

Dick could handle an ax with ai)]«;irent ease. He was 
a good hand to cho]) down trees, cut and s])lit rails. He 
knew how to set the wedge to S])lit the log with the giain. 
and he could lay as pretty a fence worm as 1 ever saw. In 
jiddition to this, he was a masterlnmd with the cr.idle. He 



■:)•■'■ -en ■■i.. .1. !<. 



H5 

could swiuo- it uitli perfect freedom and to follow liim all 
day ill the wheat or oat tirld was no easy task. 

Another thin<;- about Dick. He could make a dollargo 
farther than any ]>ody. We could be given the same amount 
t»f moiit^y, Dick would always bu}^ more and have more h'ft 
than it was ])0S8ible for mc to do. In this In* gave evidence 
of what, in later years, has developed inro a successful ele- 
ment of a good merchant — that of being a good buyer. I 
am mon* convinci'd of this now from the tbllowing incident: 
1 was on the tiain not long since and liappened to sit down 
l>y tra\ eling man. Pretty soon after being s*'ated, we l)e- 
gan a conversation on the ett'ects of the dry weather as to 
the sah' of goods. He said tliat lie liad noticed l)ut little 
ditlerence, tliat merchants were laying in al)oiit the usual 
amounts. After discussing tiie jtros and cons of tlie situa- 
tion, the conversation turned on what constitutes a success- 
ful merchant. We l>oth agr<'ed that the tirst element of 
success was to b(i a good buyer, tliat the second element, 
was to know the demands and needs of your customers, 
tlie third, not to overstock this demand, fourth to be a 
good seller, and hfth was to he a good collector. The next 
]toint in tlie conversation was on tlie iips and downs of the 
merchant in the smaller towns and villages, and so the con- 
versation continued from oiu' topic to another along this 
line, until, riiiallv, we l)egan to discuss individual merchants. 
Hy this time I found out that he was a traveling salesman 
for a clothing house, and so I asked him who were some of 
the successful clothing mertdiants in .Moberly. He men 
tioued a iiuml)er but linally said, "'riiere is one of the most 
hustling, pushing, little clothing merchants in that town I 



I 1 



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17 

know of aiiywiieie. lie knows how tol)u_)\ lie knows what 
liis ciistoniers need, and he knows how to sell." ''Now," said 
he, ''if he is a good collector, and I believe he is, he will 
one day he the nierchajit jninc*' of that town." I said, "'to 
wh(»ni do yon refer?" He I'eplied. ''to little Dick Martin of 
the Little Dick Clothing (/oin])any. lie knows how to 
work n}) tradt^ and he knows how to hold it, when he gets 
it" 1 inqnired if he always met his bills proni])tl}'. He 
said "Yes," that Little Dick always disc()unted his bills. 
"Then," 1 asked, "is he honest and upright in his dealings j*" 
He said, "yt^, he is as straight as a stiing. 1 wonld sell 
him any amonnt of goods-" "Well." said I, "1 ani Ncry 
glad inde(td to hear this, liittle Di(dv is a l)i-other of mine." 
"What 1 " said he, "a broth<M- of yours.'''' I said "yes, he 
is a brother of mine." "Well." lie says, "yon don't look 
any thing alike, theic is no more resemblanct; between yon 
and him than there is between yon and me." "1 can't hel]) 
that, he and I are brothers," 1 said, "and we ha\e done 
many a day's work together." "Well, that beats me," he 
said, and gi\ing nn* his hand, he added, 'dfyonareas 
well u]) in yoii)' bnsiness as Little Dick is in his. yon are a 
dandy." 

I ]io}>e that all the gentlenum said abont Dick in this 
conversation is trne. foi- In^ certainl}' deser\es the highest 
measure of snccess. One thing is certain, that no member 
of the family Inis done m(U(' to keej) n]> the family tie 
than Dick. He h.'is always borne more than his share of 
the exjx'iises of onr meeting, and has ever been the mo\ing 
sj)irit in this direction. The nn'eting today is dne more 
largely to his efforts than to the efforts of any othei' mem- 
ber of this fannh . 



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* There uie, inmost;,, faiuilies, some" necessaiy adjuncts ' 
wliieh form an iiicidcntnl iiart of tlieir history. Our family 
f is 110 exception to 1 his riih'. So far i'li tliis story tliose of ns ■ 
j' niciitionecl, remeniLer, no (]()ul)t, old S])(mic(H' and i^liocLe 
{ the i'nniily lioi r.<'S. and (.Id Ilin^- the, family \vat(di dog. 
I ,' , .Si)encer v.-as tli^' hor-^o that Grand})a Davis gave to 
ik •mother '.vlit'U s)ic '>vas :!ianied. Hti served our family for 
I many years. I think he was about 80 years old when lie 
; died, lie v/ns a Ix^aulifnl l)ay iiorsi', neat and trim in 
l)uild aiul ll(>et of foot SiJenci-r was gentle and Avell dis- 
'-. ])()silion(,'d, agood woik horst;, and a splendid saddle animal, 
by In his old days it was impossible to keep him fat, and as a 
iT'sult his bones seemed to protrude. I have a very distinct 
^|: and painful recollection of his sharp back bone, for at that 
p.dime, I was at the i-iglit age to ride l)i.diind, open gates and 
ilv^hitcli horses. 

''Old Phoebe," as we called lusr, was a liltle chestnut sor- 

/■ rel nag, compact in build and v(qy easy to keej). She was 

» what} w^ usu'illy-terai id a v.jry, luird}^ animal, but in many 

I"'' resi^ects, the.nieanost Hag I ever had any thing to do Aviih. 

'v^fany a time has i'ather sent nn^ to the pastures alter 

," the , horses when Old ,nioebe would run me out. 

I^iiti, T soon- learned that she was a coward, that if I 

-Avould takc^'. a whip or a clul) and stand my ground, Old 

^Phoelx^ would let nie severelj'' alone. She Avould balk on 

I all occasions without :])rovocation or warning, and no 

t amount of whipping w(mld induce her to move, but if y(^u 

'^took her by the bridle bit, you could easily lead her to pull 

'a tremendous load. \\''ith all her mean traits, she was a 

'valuable animal in that she was a magnillceiit brood marc. 



I 



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Pliucbi.', like; Sponcer, livt d to a iii)t' old i\ix<\ and when far 
along- on lifo's jt^nirin^y, tli(3y were givcii^tlio'ir frtH'dom; tliat , 
is, the}^ wer<^ not used as vegnlar work lior^es, l)nt more to - 
do what miglit be termed cliores abont the farm. For in- 
stance, on liog-killiiig da3'S tliey wei-e thonglit safe to nse in 
as mncb as tliey wonld ni,)t scare at the dead animals, 
However, we were all mistaken in this. On one of these 
delightful oceasi(ms, at noon wlicn the hogs had all been, •■ 
killed, scalded, scraped and ])nt on the sled to b(^ hanlccb .': 
to the smoke honse, mother annonnced the dinner lionr. Tf: 
.I'athi r thought it i)erfectly safe to lea\'(; the sh-d in care of '.'. 
Pho(d)e and S})encin" while we at(^ onr dinners. Tie di<l not V. 
tlnnk it m.^cessar}" to even drop the traces of tliese old, gen- f 
tie h'n'ses. But to onr surprise, for sonic reason nidviiown , . 
to any one to this day, Old Phoebe ami Spencer did get ^;i 
scared and ran otf with that sbnl of liogs. The^^ scat- :;'.' 
[ tered hogs from the 3'ard fence to tlie ba(dv side of the iield, ;• 
, but when found, mutlicr of them was hnrt and both W(U(^«' 
ready to retrace their st^ps and to stop at invei'vals to get 
) the bogs scatt4,u"ed along the way. This amusing incident 
.! t:LUglit US a lesson that it is ])etter to b(i on the safe side 
5^,and always drop the trace:'. ' > v-;/-../ v;-. ry .■.';-^vt:;lt^^' ^ 

I take ])leasni'e in paying' my respects to Old King;, for'[ 
|;he was in no way a harmful dog. He was found of' the ' 

children and would let us ride on his back and i)lay with 
; him for hours at a time. He would take hold of (uie end of . 
f a sti(d\ with some of us .at the other end, and would ti'ot 
i across the 3'ard in an attitude of seeming joy and delight. 
" Il(^ would caleli us by the hand ami no matter how exciting 
(tin; ii-aim^ he never so far ioru'ot himself as to leave even the 



:M) 



prints (if his tL't-tli. We could h'tivc our coat.s and huts oi 
anything, as to tliat matter, in (Jldlliug's care and lie wouhl 
iie\er leaxc them until we icturued- lie was faithful to 
Ids mtistcr. Wdu-n father \\()uld be away at nights. Old 
IJing wcjuld take his stand on the elay haidv and would 
howl at inteivals during the night, ilr ahviiys made it 
known when a gu(^st or a strangei- arrived, though he was 
ne\«'r \ icious nor dangerous. As a hunter, Old Jxiiig was a 
signal failure. I doubt if he e\er caught a rabbit in a fair- 
siiuare race. Howevei-, he served the fannly well and lived 
to a ii'ood ripe doi^ au'e. 

Now I turn my eyes down the family line and write 
more from memory than from actual expeiience and associ- 
ation. The Second division of this family, like the lirst, 
begins u ilh girls. 

Ifaniia and .Mat were like Mollie and Ida in nature, 
disjiosition and tastes. Hannah beiuLi- of a modest i-etirin<'' 
disposition, while Mat was more of a hap])y, jolly nature. 
Hannah was conservative and s\o\v to act and speak, Mat 
was aggressive and (pdck to act and to exi)ress herself. 
Hanmdi would weigh and consldei'. Mat would nuike u]) 
her mind, act and jiass on. llaujiah was old in ways lie- 
fore she reached womanhood, .Mai bid fair to always be 
blithe and young. 

l)Ut with all theii- natural dill'eiences they were hap- 
])ily suited to each other. Hannah constituteil the balance 
wheel, .Mat the mo\ iiig foi'ce. Ilaunali would take much 
and sa_\ little, .Mat ^\onld say much and take little. ITau- 
nah wa.^ easily im])osed u})ou, .Mat woidd stand her grouml 
and contend for eveiy inch of it. Kacli acted as acln-ck' to 
the other. 



/j.ii'A' rozr 6 




Family Group. 



Taken ill year 188f) and iiiiinbered in order of their 
birth as foHows: 

+ l'\itlier. f Mother. 1) Joe. 

1 Mollie. r> Willie. 10 Luther. 

2 Ida. () Dick II Flortince. 
•A Ellie. 7 Ha 11 nail. 12 Oniar. 

4 Laura. 8 Mat. \'A l^'orest. 






'',P' 



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21 

'rii'\\' wci-e! hoLli u'ood liiils ;it school, ITamiali otic of 
tlie bi'st and Mat, oiir (tfthe wittiest. Mat was not afiaid to 
j veiitiuv ail asseriioa, and to aiiiuc tin- point. Slie was ])os- 
' iti\e, vivacious and catliiisiastic in a recitarion. TIannali 
j Would never ii'citc nnUiss (^ailfd ajton. She never s})olve 
! unless spolven to. She Nva8 unasseri i ve, even as to luu' own 
i ri-hts. . - 

They came upon the scene of action wdien tlieirhelp 
was most needed. Mothei' liad reached that period in life 
when the hea\'}' \v(uk of ]tie\ious 3'ears was already t<'ll- 
iiiLj,- (»n her. But TIannali and Mat were fully equal to the 
situation and toolv liold of the woik in a tellinu and satis- 
factoi'V way. They soon ^avc; evidence of theii' willing- 
ness and ability to do. They took ^-leat interest in the 
alfairs of the home and, altli<uiuh directly opjiosite in tlieii' 
di>])ositious aiul luituies, they wcri^ ixut'ecily harmoious 
in their associai ituis and lalxus. They were ij,(>od girls, 
hij,li minded und uolile, olx.'dient and u-^eful. 

Ilanmih was liki- MIlie, she could cut, tit ami make 
most any kind of ^armeiir. Mat. likt^ Laura, could learn 
to siiiL;- riKKst any sonii' she he;ir(k I lia\e the fondest 
recoiled i(ms (d'theiii in their childhood da\'s. The}' were 
such clean. lU'at, nire little iji:irls, and I shall always cluu- 
ish these memories with ])ride and satisfaction. 'I'hey did 
their part to make this home klessed. 

I remeuilier tlieui also as youm;' ladies. They were 
\(U-y (^oinpauioiialile with me when at lioiiie ou my summer 
\acations. I flat ter my ^elf yet that tlii'V ^vere ulad to see 
me fui' they acted that way. We weul much to<i,et leu- and 
enjoyed each others society. I soon I'oiiiid myself at a 



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I'm' ' Kf MtTiPn/rrf, 



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loss wiiliout tlicin. Tlic}' were uifoiiuly coiirt(H)us and 
kind to me and paid great deference to my Judgment. 

My earliest nieuior}' of Joe is connected with rather an 
amusing incident, thougii at tlu^ time we thought it a very 
aerious matter. Joe liad l)een gi\cn his lirstpair of i>ants 
and in liid hihirity <)\er the matter was running htire and 
then- about the prendses having a general good time. One 
day sdinetinng hap}»ened to get into one of his eyes. We 
I liought it was a hayseed, a line cinder or some foreign 
substance. Any way it joained the little fellow \'ery se- 
verely, lie cried continuously for a day or two. b'inally, 
a })hysician was summcnied, ))ut he failed to tind anything 
and gave it as his ojtinion that Joe W(.)uld be all i-ight in a 
da}^ or so. One thing was noticeable, however, the doctor 
could not get Joe to o})iui his eyes at all, and he seemed to 
think that the eyelids on the inside were son- from crying 
and holding the tcais. It was suggested that the eyes be 
bathed in cold wati-r and that J(»e ])e taken out into the 
open air late of evenings and early of mornings. This 
task, or duty, fell to my h^t. 1 see tlu^ little fellow plainly 
now as I would })lace him in front of me astride of "Old 
r>(^t" when we would start out for the ride. 1 would tell 
stories about the things 1 saw, how interesting and beaidi- 
lul the\' were, etc., in orch'i' to induce Joe to o])en his 
eyes, but to no avail. One nuu-ning early, while the dew 
was yet on the grass and spaikliiig in the early sun light, 
1 started out to take him for his usual ride. It was a 
delightful morning, I felt good and ni}- imauiuation w:is at 
its bt'st. 1 jtroccrded with my story telling. We luid 
uone but a little distance when 1 saw a beaut ifid bird in a 









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t !. ,!..; -'• 



AV 



ti'oo just a heiul of us, and I exclaiiiicd, Oh, what a jiretty 
Lird that irs ! Look, Joe! h)()k ! It's the i)rettiest thing I 
ever saw ! Joe raised liis head a litth'- and said, "Wliey ? 
I don't tee dat bud." I h>oked down and his eyes were 
itkM)i)eu. I was very uiucli gratitied, but I was afraid to 
>ay any thing about his eyes for fear he wouhl close tliiMu 
again. So I continued to talk about the birds, trees, grass, 
tlowers, etc , aiul linall}' turned Old Het around and started 
l)a(dv lionie. We had not })roceed far when Joe ])egaii to 
talk, and by the time ^^■e reached home, he was talking 
about e\eiything along tile road. I rode u]) to the front 
styles and called mother to take Joe down, i wish you 
could have .seen that expression of Joy on her face when 
she disco\ere(l that .Joe had his ayes ojien. 1 sliall ncNcr 
foiget it. 

Joe was a good boy, and always a good worker. lie 
was a great home body and early gave evideiicc of liis 
interest in and lo\-e for the home. He is now the oidy one 
of I he children whosi' liiune ties have never ))een l)roken. 
lie has jiractically always ])eeii at ho:ue. The burden of 
caiingforthe farm luis l)ern u])on liim for a number of 
}'i^ars. He was e\ce]»tionally good to his sisters, and took 
])leasure in i)roviding ways and means for them to go, 
and he enjoyed going with them. This to me was one of 
his most comiuendal)!e traits. Ihit above all Joe has Ix-eii 
good to his ])ai'ents. He has never left them and to tliis 
da3' they dejx-nd upon him. 

kutlier was a \ery delicate, Utile Itoy. It was thought 
for long time that he would never out grow il, but he did 
timilly. He was very slow in learning t(» talk, and some 



'M 



of his eaily ;itr(Mii[)ts at speech wei'ti vrvy aMiusiiii;' iiKh^^d. 
l^efori^ lie had gaowii sullieienrly tall to I'each the door 
I. Itch, and when he wished to ]):iss from one room to 
aiiothei', he woidd walk \\\) to the door, utter some soit of 
ex})i'essioii, the i»hi"tiseoloL:,\' of which no one ever under- 
stood, but the meanini;' of \\ liich ^\•e all knew, and, if this 
did not briiiii' yome one to open the door, he would then 
knock with his foot instead of iiis hand. 

Luther was a ^reat jxirson to \'isit Tie enjoyed goinu,' 
to N(»ali's, Uncle J)ick"s, Uncle Tom's and around in the 
nigliliorhood generally, to stay all night, not occasionally 
hut fre(iuently. lb' was jircunl and b)nd of di-ess,bulas to this 
all'ection W( can all j)lea(l guilty, father used to say tliat 
oui" j)i ide and love of dress would alwa}'s kee]> us ])oo]-. 1 
think, we shoidd remember that dress does not a'- 
wa\ s make the man, but that t lie la«'k of it sometimes does 
mak<' the fellow. [juther could kee]) a suit of <'lothe,s 
cleaner, niciu- and for a longer time than any of the boys. 
He was \('ry particular about how his clothes lit him. 
This is a very commendable trait in any one, b)r there is 
nothing more uiicomf )rtable and annoying than an ill litting 
garment. 

Luther was a very slow eater, and this iiKue than any 
oihei- one thing has been conducive to his good health. 
What a blessiu:; it would be if more of us were likiHiim in 
this i-es})(n't. Husiness and j)rofessioual men and those of 
sedi'utary habits should lake time to eat. They should 
never eat in a hurry. 

fjutlier w .IS always honest and uj)riglit, persevering and 
ambiti(tus. lie was v^'vy anxious \{) do senii'thiui;- an I to 



25 

1)6 somebody; lie had liigli aims and uohh^ aspirations. I 
am told that he stands well in the community whei-e he 
lives, that he is trusted and respected by all classes of cit- 
izens and that he is a great success at his chosen calling. 
T am i)roud of this for he once made liis home with me, and 
I discovered in him then what has since proven to be the 
mark of a successfnl man. 1 am i)roud of iiim. 

Joe and Luther were good boys to work and the old 
farm took on new life and vigor nnd(u- their nuiuagemeut. 
It seems to me that they did more worlv in the same length 
of lime than Dick and I did. They could not have been 
better workers than Dick, ])iit lliey were better 
eqiiii)ped for work than we were. They ])rodnced more 
fodd, they raist'd more stock, the farm was kt'itt in better 
repair, and a i)ei'iod of i)rosperity seenie(l to ])revail. It 
was during this ])eri(Kl that tln^ new house was built and 
othi'i- im]tid\»'iii(Mits v.'ere made. 

1 spent ni V vacations at home then and 1 had amiile op- 
])ortuiiity to ol)serve them at their work. They both had 
the air of business aVtout them. They let nothing frivolous 
or foolish interfere with their daily tiiities. They worked 
early and late, and I thought then as I think now, that 
they weic a bh^ssing and a benediction to this home. 

I'^lorenct^ was the ])rettiest little baby 1 think 1 have 
<'\er seen. She was a plum]), round faced, fair skinned, 
l)lue- e\'ed little girl. 1 rtunember very well my lirst sight^ 
of her. 1 had been down to Uncle Noah Martin's on a 
visit, and when 1 returned, I was told that a little \i-<itor 
had arriv(Hl at our house. Of course I was anxious to see 
who it was. I could hardly wait until I could get into ihe 



( u. r ■::.(,]. lU .i 



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Jioiise. When f ciitcied, I was told to look at the foot of 
the 1>(*(1 and to .see what I could liiid tliere. [ turned the 
(•o\-ers down and to my surprise, I found the little stranger 
and guest. I N\'as so animated w'ithjoy that I projiosed 
theic and then to take her up in my aims, hut mother ob- 
jected and I had to content myself at lookingdown through 
the (h'ep covers at the ohject of my admiration. 1 was 
somewhat (Usa])pointed when tliey told me it was a girl 
foi' I thought W(^ Jieededuiore hoys in the fandl}'. I know 
that I shall never forget liow she looked, nor how 1 hdt 
o\('r the new disco\'er>" I had made. 

Florence was a very modest, ictiiing, diffident little 
girl, and very shy of strangers. I can see her now secret- 
ing herscdf beliind mother, or hieing away when strangei's 
would ente]-. Her modest air and de}>orlment tluMi, hetok^ 
eiied li(*r womanly ([Ualities and virtues UdW. 

One thing that 1 noticed about her eaily in life and 
it is a ])r<>Miinent trait yet, when she undertook to do a 
thing she never sto}»ped until she had completed it. She 
seemed to have been e[idowed from the \'ery beginning of her 
life \\ith an unusual amcuiut ol'e)t<*!g}% ambition and de- 
terininati(m. She is the only one of all the children who 
com})leted a course of study at school. She never (piit un- 
til .she had obtain<'il her diploma and had received the a[»- 
]»laudit, "Well done thou good and faithful servant." 

Fhjrem'e was the seventh girl and therefoie by \irtue 
of this fact has a halo of glory alxmt her She has had 
the actiunulated experience, counsi-l and ad\ice ol' .-^ix 
older si->ters and the ad\anlages thai the progress of the 
times and the famih' could '•ive. She has a ureat futuic. 



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27 

Ilcr education and training togctlier with li('ranil)ition and 
indnstiy only anait an ()])2)oitunit y. The time is not far 
wiicn siie will he in tlie t'lont rank of her newly <'liosen 
])roffession 

It has bee]i diflicnlt indt-ed for nie to look npon her in 
any other light than that of a little girl, for it is the mem- 
ories of lier childhood that most fondly cling to me. But 
dining th«' past year I ha\<' had an op])oi-tuntiy to study 
her in hci' more womaidy i|nalities. She is scru])ulousIy 
lioiiest. Siu' is energetic, industrious, })erst'vering and 
ambitious and one of the best studi'Uts I ever saw. In ad- 
dition, I lind her woi'thy and well (lualilied, modest, u])- 
right and honorable. TIk^ little blue-eyed, diffident girl 
has now grown to be tlir niod(\^t, dignilied woman, a blessing 
to us all and a shiniuLi' mark in this family. 

I now come to two of the greatest Itoys in tins family, 
Omar and Forest. iSiich Ionc and friendshij), such coiili- 
dcnce and companionship in boys aic rarely met with. I 
know of no greater exami)l<' in all lustory and but one inci- 
dent that in any way ai)])roacl!('S it, and this is found in the 
story of Damon and Pythias. There is no condition in life 
in wdiicli these boys coidd not be found battling shoulder 
to shoulder in each others cause. They seem to be so 
lirndy bctuiid and so closely united one to the oi her, that 
nothing so far in life has shaken their faith or even loosen- 
ed the cords of lo\e that bind them. They have lU'vei' 
been sepaiatefk They ])layed togeth^^r as children, they 
worked togethej- as boys, thev \\-eie playmates at scliool. 
they were a^sociatetl as youths and as young men. and, at 



(;;. 



28 

this time, tJiougli engaged in different lines of business, 
th(^3' are witli each other daily. 

[ confess that tliey have been the objects of much 
study to me. I iiave tried to hnd out the sei-ret of thi'ir 
devotion to <'ach other. They are in many respects very 
diiferent boys. Onuir is of a bilious tenii)eranient Forest, 
of a nervous temperament. Omar has dark complexion 
and (hnk eyes, Forest, light complexion and l)lue eyes. 
They look nothing- alike, there is iko striking family resem- 
l)hii]ce between tln-m. They are diU'en'nt types of human- 
ity. And so I iuive concluded that they are far enough 
a}»art in dis])Osition and naliire to ha\e no unph^asant dis- 
agreements and yet closi^ enough logfiher to h>ve each oth- 
er (h-arly. 

Omar has been from his early chihlhood a great talker, 
lit; has ne\('r l)een wauling in thejjouer to express him- 
self. When ;i little bo V he e\ iuced a readiness and an eager- 
ness to lellalxmt what he heard and saw. This fact alone 
has developed in him the })ower to observe closely and to 
discriminate accurat*'!}'. The ordinary ha])penings of the 
day woidd furnish sullicient material with which Omar 
could entertain the family for an hour at a time, and one 
ndght consider hiujself lucky if got a woid in "edgeways." 
He has always liad a great ''ktiack" at imitating, lie can 
re])resent with })erfect ease the sjiei'di. voice, facial expres- 
sion, gestui'e ami attitude of those he imitates. This pow- 
er in Omar, if it had been tiained in the line of sketching, 
would hav(,' made him one of the world's great cjirtoonists. 
IL' was always the life of the family. 

While Forest is not lacking in the i)ower to express 



29 

himself, he is no iiKiteh for Omiiv in a talking contest. 
\Vhen a story or an incident, kiunvn to both of them, is to 
be related he readily defers to Omar. 

Forest is the baby boy, and the thirteenth child in 
the family. He is therefore envelojxMl in the mysteries of 
this nia^ic nunib<n-. Whatever he does, whatever of snc- 
cess or faihire he may make, whatever calamity may be- 
fall him must be attributed t<» this fact. But so far in lift; 
fortune has smiled ujjon him. Ib^ has been a success 
and the futnre for him looks ])righter than the past. When 
a little fellow, Forest was a great boy to do chores for his 
mother, carry in the stove wood, get the kindlings, draw 
water and the like. lb; would hunt the hens' nest in the 
high W(ie(ls and the hay mows and gather in the fresh eggs. 
He wonld drive the cows to antl from tin; pasture and 
"kee]) the calves olf at milking time." lie was always 
his Mama's boy, taking his dihiculties, tronbles and dis- 
ai)i)ointuients to her, and strange to say, lu; never went 
away without her consolation and sympathy. But Ouiar 
was much the same way in this ])articular. They both 
to this day fondle around mother as they did when little 
boys. They seem to vie with each other in their demon- 
8trati(ms of love for their parents. This is one of tludr 
■'most commendable traits. 

Ouiar and Forest were both good boys to wT)rk, lia])])y 
and jolly, full of life and hope. They wei'e natures real 
noblemen. 

"They knew of the bee's luorulug chase, 
Of the wild Mower's limi' and i)lace. 
How the ant digs his cell. 



How tlie ground niolt^ sinks his well, 
! ' How t\u' bird feeds its young, 

How the robin's nest is hung. 
They knew where the whitest lilies blow, 
WHiere the ripest berries giow, 
Tiiey had outward sunshine, inward joys, 
They wenMiature's real boys." 

They are today about the hap})iest, most hopeful 
young men 1 know of. They see the l)right side of life. 
The sun shines for them, the ])ii-ds sing in their trees and 
lifi^ is W(uHi the living What a blessed condition this is! 
Why })erniit the (douds to ho\'er near, when so much sun- 
shine is everywhere? 

Omar and Forest ([uit tlie farm ratlier young in life, 
pro))al)ly due to tiie fact that they entered the town 
schools eailier, and tlius acquired a love for city life. 
They nuule their home with sister Ida who has been a real 
mother to them, and has done much to give them the sun- 
shine of life. No one dare make an unfavorable criticism 
on Ida, or any member of her family, in their i)resence. 
They are very devoted to her and th(^y should be. In this 
conne(^tiou I wish' to pay my devotions again to Ida and 
Mollie, for I have nuid(i ni}' hoiiu'with both of them. They 
were alwa}'s good to me and very much interested in my 
futiut'. 

Omar and Forest are to me great boys and give much 
]tr()udse to their moie matured manhood. They are yet 
young and havc^ numy years of usefulness before tliem. 1 
cherish the fondest hopes for their future. 



; ' I r-- 



' ; ,:.!"( 



31 

This vsketcli would be im-omplete without a milogy 
oil Old FishtT, the fauiily horse, wliich cauie upon the 
scene a number of years after the death of Old Spencer. 

Fisher was a little iron gre}' horse, s})irited and gay 
and gifted witli all the gaits known to horseth-sh. He was 
the most useful horse we ever had. ITe serve.d in all 
capacities, iu the jjIow, wagon and l)Uggy and was a mag- 
niUcient saddle animal. He was game, wiry and long 
winded, there was n(^ eml to his '"bottom." lie could go 
all day and never exhibit the least fatigue. lie was an 
auil)itious horse, proud, full of life and always in the lead. 
He has served this entire fanuly, though the older members 
had left home before the })tuiod of his reign. We all cdaimed 
him, and when more than one of us wished to go at the 
same time, the contest was always for who should have Old 
Fisher to ride or to drive. I know that 1 was unusually lia])- 
l)y when it lell to my lot to use him. In fact I would ])lan 
ahead, book dates, trade around and "'snitch" a little on 
the others in (U'der to multiply and increase my chances to 
use Old Fisher. 1 remembei' that I once had him liooked for 
four Sundays in succession. 1 had used him on two succes- 
sive Sundays and had him saddled and ready for use on the 
third, when all of a sudden, it seemed to occur to tlie others 
that I was monopolizing too much of his service. They 
consi)ired against me and ap})liedto Father for redress of 
their grievances. Father was standing before the '"Big- 
Glass" shaving, and as I i)assed out to start on my Sun- 
day's tri}), he calknl to me, and (h'manded an ex})lanation. 
1 told him that 1 had traded for the use ot Fisher and that 
I thouuht it was all riulit to use him. Fie sai<l to me. tliat 



c'- '■ 



iU 



DC' i 

■ ■ n 



■ f I '• 



. .I'lj ■ ■ -rl 



t ' ''. ' I 



; Ml 






f'-J 



H2 

Fisher ])rfl()ng"ed to the family and no one had a right to 
monopolize liis .survicc, and that I had l)L'tter saddle one of 
the other horaes and use it that day. I did so, l)nt it was 
with the very greatest relnctance. 

I recite the above incident to show the popularity of 
Fislier. He liad his faults it is true, hut tliey were so in- 
sigiiilicaiit wlieri compared witli iiis many virtues that I 
refrain from mentioning a single oiu; of tliem. Certain it 
is, that his long and faithful service deserved for him a 
decent burial and a marble slab erected to tell of his last 
resting place. 

I must not forget in passing to mention "Old Watcli" 
tlie second "watch dog" that belonged to this family. He 
was a largt^ black dog, full of litV; and determination. He 
could snilf the air and scent a stranger for miles away. He 
was proud and at times a little boastful, and somewhat 
ferocious in his nature, f(U- he would bite. No stranger or 
guest entered the yard wahout tirst making his peace 
with "Watch." I know it used to be a question with me 
when I woidd comt.^ home on a visit, esi)ecially if I arrived 
an night, just how I should nninage "Old Watch." I knew 
it would never do to light him for he was a brave dog. 

On one occasion I reached home about midnight and 
it was with the greatest difliculty that I obtaiued AV^atch's 
])ermission to enter the yard. He evidently had forgotten 
me, but before I reached the front porch he recognized wlio 
1 was. 1 sludl not soon forget his demoustratious of joy 
and delight at this recognition. 

"Old \Vatch" was Mothei's dog. She could do nnue 
with him than any of us. If trouble arose he went to her 






'■" :t 



■- 'i ' 






ns 



for ]>i()t<'f'tioii. He would lie down at lierf(^et and seemed 
to ft't'l jteifcctly safe in her ])reseii('e. He was alwa} s at 
Motlit'i's eoniniaiid. He would keep the chickens, ducks 
and ueesc out of the front yard for her, and, no matter how 
eager the chase, when slie commanded iiim, lie would stop. 
He lived to he an old dog and at all times })ioved himself 
to be a usei'ul adjunct to the family. 

It is hardly necessary that 1 should say anything 
much about myself, since so many litth^ incidents con- 
nected wit h my home life arc' scattered throughout this 
skeicli. Then again the memories of ni}' boyhood days 
crowd upon me so thick and fast that it would be imi)ossi- 
ble at this time to record them all. Ihit as I \ iew my early 
life, 1 realize more than ever that 1 was a gimuine boy, full 
of ])o}'ish s})orts and games. 1 enjoyed running, /)nm])ing, 
wrestling, pitching luuse shoes, i)laying mumble-])eg, mar- 
bles, town ball and bull i)en. 1 was fond of the chase and 
h)\ ed the bow and arrow, the cross-bow and the gun. 

I had also a ])eculiar fondness for horses and I took great 
care of the team I worked oi' the horse 1 rode. My team 
was ahsays curried ami rubl)ed sleek before going to work 
and lliis fact often caused me to lie late in getting out 1o 
the lield. 

1 loved study ami got along fairly well at school. 
Then- was onlv^ om* da}^ in all the school year that 1 could 
be induced to stay at home with any degree of content- 
ment, and that was 'diog killing day." This was to me a 
great event and I looked forward to it with much ])leasiire. 
Afiei- I learned how to read and how to get the tlujught 
from thi'|)rinte(l paue. T b(.^<'ame \'eiy fond of books and 



34 

most of my IcLsuie liours thereafter were sjjent in reading;-. 
0]ie littJe incident in this connection will show in\' eager- 
ness to obtain knowledge. 

\Ve were short of horses one spring and Fatlier bouglit 
one from Uncle Dick. Tlie horse was a little old at the 
time and sul)]ect to wliat we call '^thnm])s " lie conld 
in)t stand hard \vurk in the summer seasons without l)eing 
subjected to these sjx'lls. Knowing this fact, I chose him 
as my plow hoise. This was somewliat of a suri)rise, for 
'"Old Dave" as we called him \Nas not a very attractive 
hoise. Then this was an unusual ])r(>ceeding on my part, 
f(»i' I was always ver}' ])articular aln)Ut the horses T worked. 
T took my book to tlie lield with me, and would jdow ''Old 
Dave" just as fast as I could make him go until I would 
get him to •'thumi)ing," then of course 1 was compelled 
to sto[i and let him rest. 1 would then get into tlie shade 
ot'a t'encc cornel- and i<'ad while he was resting. In this 
way duiing the summer, I committed the constitution of 
the United States, read the life sketches of Hamilton, 
Jefferson, Clay, (Jalhoun, Webster and Benton. 

1 have ahvays felt a little conscience stricken over the 
matter, for I doubt seriously whether or not the end Justi- 
lied the means. 1 remember oiioe buying a book, entitled 
"Footprints of Time." I think 1 jjaid live dollars for this 
])ook. 1 made the money in the month of Au^'ust diiririna- 
y pond. I know the weather was extremely hot at the time 
and T had to work very hard. What attiacted me most to 
the ])ook was the luief history it contained of the Aruieiu 
Eastern iMonarchies, the Grecian Stales and the Ronian Re- 
public. I knew nothing mu<-h of Ancient History, and of 



.^ '-J 



ifi'';('- ■■' 



(•(Hirse was veiy iniicli ])l(^ast'(l over n\y })Uiclias»'. T toolv 
the l)o()k to Fatlier. lie examined its coiiteiils and said, ''My 
son, T am afraid you have paid too imicli for tliis ))ook. 
\\''hat it contains can be found in an\' good Ancient liis- 
tory and the liistory of the United States." 1 knew tlien 
tliat Fatliei' did not fully a]ii)i'o\e of tiie purchase, and I 
have found ont since that what he said about the book is 
trne, hnt at that time it was a source of niu(;h infornuitioji 
an<l inspiration to ine. It was here that 1 lirst learned 
about Persia, Urt^ece ami Home, Darins and X<'ixes, T)e- 
uiosthenes and Pericles. Caesar and Hannibal. I became 
very anxious to know more about the liistory of these 
nations and the doini^s of these men. So after all I am dis- 
posed to beh'ive that the ])nrchase of this book has proven 
to be a great event in my life. 

And so I might continue, but tliis is sufficient to show 
the trend of my early life. As I now hiok back on my 
boyhood days, I am snre that 1 was not always the good 
bo}' I shoidd have been, but 1 hope to live h)ng enough to 
rectify tile childisli ingi-atilndes of my earlier }ears. 

1850195' ' 



•m 




My Father and Mother, 



I f'oiiie now to r1ie most iMi])ortant division in tliis 
hiicf liistoiy of the t'liniily, tli:it of Father and Mother. Li 
dis])osition and nature tliej^ stand in dii-ect contrast. 
J''athi'r is i|uiet, nnasnniing and i-etirinii' in his nature, 
whih' luotlier is energetic, vivacious and aiiiniating. Ont^ 
re})reseiits the conservative, tht; other tlie aggressive ele- 
nieut in oui' natures. Father is cool, calm and deliberate. 
Mother is nervous, excita])le and i[uick. She is the most 
alert woman f ever saw. Nothing esca])es her notice. Slu^ 



37 



cded only the circunist;inces in tlir case ro predict with 
rtaiiity what we would do. Ycni cutild .iiol deceive lier 
ither always waited and with held his Judgincut aad 
'cisioii until all the evidcnct-, l)oth direct and indirect 
as laid l)ef'ore liim. Had he ])e('n a lawyer', he would 
ive made one of the hest judm^s in the world. We us- 
illy went to hiui for advice, l)ut wlicn wc wanted any- 
dni;- done we always went to Mother. \Vc lienerall}' i^ot 
is consent thiough her. She knew how to bring things to 
ass. She was more easily approached, luit more se\'ere 
:i her ciiticisms. When we were able to i-each Father by 
irect methods, we felt tliat we had gained a great victor\\ 
le always pointed unt tlie danger signals and the possi- 
)ility of troubles along the way. Alotlu'r furnished tiie 
Mithusiasm and the hoi)e. Father the counsel and the cau- 
tion. And so every (dement in ouriuitnres isdiicctly tiace- 
il)le to either tlie one or th<^ othei-. 

My h'ather is the l)est man 1 ever knew. 1 have always 
had the profounih'St respect foi- him, and 1 believ<' to tliis 
day were he to tell me to do a thing, 1 would in\'i)bin- 
tarily obey him. He was my lirst (;om}>aidoii in the held 
of lai)or and veiy eaily in life he began to ask my o])inion 
al)oul the best ])lan of (h)ing the woi'k. I did not iindei-- 
stand then why he did so. but f see now that he wished to 
delelojj in me self reliance and judgment. He knew me 
better than I knew myself, and when lie disco\ered that I 
was <'Si»(Mdally fond of horses, and then^ was any work to 
do with a team, I was most always assigned to tin' laslx. 

He was my ideal man. 1 inntated him in every thing. 
I would try to choji like him, stand and walk like him. lix 



!l>^ 



;i )i 



i JS(»/:. 



)i.;'.i , ■/.' 



f % . 



>■-- i ■ : > 



A -:i: 



my h:it, boots and clotlics likt' tiis. I would follow aftpv 
him and stfj) in his tracks. He iiever punisht'd mc l)iit 
once in my life, and that was for followiiii;- liini. I liad 
the ha])it (vf following!,- him every whcit^ he went. He did 
not ohjcct to thi-s in and about the home, but he very 
much disliked the idea oi' ]»ein^- followed to town. I would 
follow some distance l»eliind him until he would get to 
town, then I woidd run n]) to Inm ami walk by his side. 
One day he started to town ami left nn^ to do some worlv 
wliile he wa^s gone, [insisted that! wanti^d to go with 
him. but he positively forbid nu^ doing so. He Imd gott<'n 
Init a little distam-e when 1 started aflei- him. When In^ 
discovered that 1 was following, lie stop])ed andwai\ed to 
uw to go hack. I sto})j)e<l and waited until he started on. 
Tie did this a number of tinu's, but 1 did not ictnin. b'in- 
ally, I lost sight of him all at once and thought that he 
had increased his sjieed ami had gotten out of sight, so I 
began to run to catch up with him. Thiid^ing, of course, 
it would ))e as it always had In^en, but just as I was cross- 
ing a little I'aviiie, Father emerg<'d from a hazel thicket 
with a keen switch in his hand and said, "Yonng man, J 
ha\'e giv('n yon fail' warning, now, <()me to me. 1 intend to 
])ut a stop to this." x\u(\ he did, fori never followed him 
again without his pernnssion; ami what is nu)rt^ the mem- 
ory of that whi])ping, rhongli not severe, bites like a ser- 
pent and stings like an a(hler. 1 shall not forget how he 
looked and the way he talked. It was this moie than the 
w hiiijiiiu;' that tool; etfecl. This was the oiil\ ](iini>limenl 
that Father e\cr gave me. When 1 was older and began 
t» ass<'rt niyscdC m(»re, Father always s])oke to nu^ in such 



I - in 



■ I ; ' ■ . t 



(!' 



nil-.! •• 'M I4 ! ' 



:^0 

a way that iiotliirig fuitlier was iiooessaiy to secure obed- 
ience. . • 

Another rhinu' alxtii! Father, he never g()ssi])ed. nor 
did lie allow us to do so in his jiresence. He never s])oke 
ill of his neighbors, nor (»f any one els*-, and 1 have never 
heard to this day of anyone ever speaking ill of him. 
If he has ever had an enemy, I have not heard of him. 
l^'ather stands high iu)t only in this immediate neighbor- 
hood, but AvluMever \ui is known. When a young man Just 
starting out iH life, I was im])resse(l with this fact. I fre- 
(jnently nift strangeis and would be at strange ])laees, but 
when it, :vas known who my Fathei' or my Mother was, 1 
always had a. warm welcome. This was always a sourceof 
great satisfaction to me. 

Fathci- was a good story tdler and in the winter seas- 
on of evenings wln-u the chores were all dont- and su])])ei' 
o\er, 1h' woidd gather ns about hiin f)cfore the bla/ing tire 
Jdace and tell us about the early settlers, the indians and 
the tra]j})t'rs. lb:* was well jiosted in tlu^ histoiy of tln^ 
early settlements in this country, of the Indian de])r<'dations 
and of the eaily adventnreis. I icmembej' to this day 
many of the stories he told tluMi. lb' was our Santa Clans 
at Christmas tiuies ami tilled our stockings with the things 
that ])leased our cliildisli fancies. 

fatlier was always a hard worker and great home 
body. His lib' has been given in the service of his home 
aud his family. He lU'ver sought jiublic notice oi- ]Mibli<' 
honors, lb' is honest, upright, high minded, noble, i-oii- 
servative. sym])athetic and geiKM'ous to a fault. Such is my 



40 

Fullier and I would give a ^reat deal could [ l)ut approxi- 
iiiatf his character in my own litV\ 

My Mother is the luosf cncr^-ctic, persevering, untiring 
woman I have evtM- stu-n. Her constant servic(% self sacri- 
lice and devotion to this family is to me something per- 
fectly wonderful. She has ntner had a leisure monu-nt 
since he]' lirst child was born. Toil, car(\ anxiety and le- 
sponsihility have tner been u])on her. She did her oavu 
woik and looked after hei- own household. Tt is simpl}' a 
niysterj' how she has reared such a family of children. 
We were subject to all the ills and diseases common to 
childhood; measles, mum})s, whoo])ing cough, chills and 
fever. She has cared for us through all these and has 
consequently obtained a degree of ellicieiu'y in the sick 
room nneipnijed and um'xcelled. I would rather ha\'e her 
in an ordinary case of sickness than any ])h\'sician I know 
of. She has a gentle touch and a most soothing, (piieting 
manner about the sick bed. I know when I was sick no 
one could attend to me like Mother. 

Mother has always idolized her childi-en Sh(3 has 
e\(;r worshi]>ped at the family alter. She has exhibited the 
greatest ambition for oni- welfare. Thei-e is not a child Imt 
that touches a tender sjjot in her heart. She has a])lace for 
ea(di om^ of us. So thoroughly did slu^ know us and so fidly 
was she in sympathy with every tibtu- of our being that sin; 
(^ven knew when the absetd ones were sick oi- were couung 
honn^ on a visit. She was very anxious that we should al- 
nays make a good a]>])earance. She tried to kee]) us neat 
andch'an and W(dl dressed. \ i-fmeml)er once that 1 inor- 
tilied her verv nnicli. it was on the last (bi\' of school and 



41 

I was to be on exliil^ition in oral examination. I went to 
one of the neighbors from school the ni^ht before and 
wore my every (hiy eh)thes. The next morning in my 
hurry to get to school, 1 forgot to go by home and change 
my clothing. The pants I had on were patched in tlie 
seat and my coat was rather short, and of couj'se when 
1 turned to tlic blackboard to work, the patches would 
sliow. Th(^re was a hirge crowd of visitors at scliool 
that diiy and about ten o'clock some one knocked at the 
door, 1 was at the blackboard at the time working a 
])roblem. The teacher went to tin; (k)or and then called 
me. When I got to tin; dooi- whom should 1 set^ hut 
Mother. .She wanted luc to go and ]iut on my good 
suit. I objected on the ground that the visitors had al- 
ready seen me aiul I did not care to call particular atten- 
tion to a change at tliat time. The teacher hel])ed nn* ont 
of th(^ ditliculty by sa3nng that no one had noticed my 
])atches, that they were watching me, and at noon, I <'onhl 
go and change my suit. While this did not ]>lease moth- 
er exactly, sIk; linall)' consi^ited to let me rtMtwtin. 

Mother always encouraged us in our undertakings 
and helped us to pusli them forward to a successful teiiu 
illation. She believed in goiiui- ahead and in doing some- 
thing. She looked into the future and o))served what 
would b(^ acceded, and then she laid her ])laiis to meet 
these necessities. She worked all llu^ time from earl,T 
iiKU'Ji till late at night. After su]»per of eveninu's. when 
the* dishes were wusIkmI and ])Ut away and the kitchen ]iut 
in order. Mother would sit l)y the light and darn, patch uv 
'•run the new knit stockinu' heel" while l^'ather told us 



42 

stoiics. Slic was usually tlu^ last to retire at night, hut 
hcfoj-c doing so slic always went around to see if the cov- 
ers were tucked good aud snug about us. 

As I view her now, I am simply amazed at her forti- 
tude and courage, her patience and endurance. She could 
not have been anything less than a great woman. Her 
exhil)itions of love, devotion and self sacrilice to this fam- 
ily, her keen and active interest in cnich of us today are 
the elemi^nts of Iter greatness. She has ever Ix^en tJie 
moving si)irit in the progress of the family and whatever 
else I iniglit say of her, the pi-ondest thing to me is the 
lact that she is my mother. 

It is to I'^atlier and Motln-r that we are indebted for 
our e.vistence. They nutured us in our iid'ant years and 
whate\(.'r of success or fortune we may obtain, we must at. 
last \iiy our ti'opliies at their feet. Their term of service 
is over. Years have crept slowly by and they have moved 
gradually I'rom youth to manliood and wotmmhood and 
them-e to age. They have now passed Ix^yond that ])eriod 
of life when they would be expected to aid and assist 
their children. They have reached a. ])oint where they 
should aiul l)y right ought to expect the care and assist- 
ance which only devoted children can give. I know I 
voice tile sentimtfut of all of us when I say that we cannot 
live long enough to compcinsate for the trouble and anxiety 
we have caused them, it is this feiding of indebtedness, 
this h>ve, res])e(!t and admiration for them that has ]U(Mnided 
us and 1ms moved us \)y one coiunu)n iuii)ulse to nu'ct aiul 
]»ay our devotions to tln^n. All honor is diu' them ami we 









( I' > ■!• •' • 'I 



43 



must iiBvci' ceust,^ in our (efforts to try to make tlieir decliu- 
iiig years peaceful aud happy. 

Today they jiass the ,i;okh^n luile.stniie on tlie road of 
wedded life. This road lias not ahvaj's been a smooth 
ou<^ Tlieje have been many obstach-s in the way, but so 
far they have made the journe}^ successfully. 

I doubt scriousl}' if any of us live to be so fortuiuitc, aud 
certain it is that if we do, we will not have such a 2)rog('ny 
to assemble to do us honor. 

Tiiey have witnessed numy chano-cs during- this time. 
The wooden moidd board has given ])lace to the steed 
shear, the rea]* hook to the cradle and this in turn to the 
reaper and the self binder. Likewise the log house, with 
its dirt or i)unclieon tloor, has l)een ie})laced by the more 
modern frame, brick or stone. So the ox has gi\-en way to 
the lioi'se and this again to steam and (dectricity. They 
ha\-e witnessed also I lit' iuvention of the telegra})h, t(^le- 
phoae an 1 ])honograi»li. Tiiey have seen the prairies 
fenced and the forests cleared away and made to l)lossom 
as the ros '. They havi' also seen the territory of the 
liuited States expand westward from the Mississippi to 
tht^ coast and thence to the isles of the sea, in<dudiug 
Hawaii, Porto Rico, (Tiiani and the Phillipiiies. They 
have lived thioimh three of our country's wars; the war 
with .Mexico, the Great Civil War, and the late Spanish- 
American war. They have seen the close of the greatest 
century of the World's progress, and lia\e witnessed the 
dawn of the m^st ]U'ospecti\(' century since the a^^es began. 
How WDudiU'fur. Yet more wond(U-ful still is the fact that 
they have lived to l)eliold tile Joys of this(hiv. Here gath- 



II.; 



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44 



eivd aromid this liresidts tin' entire family for the thinl 
tiiiit- ill its history. 1 think iiiysidf tlia.t this scene l)eggars 
■all description arid marks a tni nini>' point in the life his- 
tory of tlie family. We may never all be together a,i;ain 
jis a family. We shonld therefort; make much of this 
nn^eting. L(^t every monu'iit be one of genuine apprecia- 
tion hn- (;ach othci. We should gatlier ins])irati()n from 
this days association that will point us to higher heights 
and nobler aims. We art' no longer boys and girls. We 
are men and women, with the i('S])onsibilities of manhood 
and womanhood upon us. Jjet us meet them ])ravely, and 
let us ''so live that when our summons comes to join the in- 
nnmbcrabh^ caravan which moves to that mysterious 
ri'alm where each shall take his chamber in the silent 
lialls of death, that we go not like the (juarry slave at 
night scourged to his dnngt^on, but sustained and soothed 
by an unfaltering trust, let us approach our giaves like 
one who u ra])s the drajx'r}' of his (^oucli about him and 
lies down to ])leasant dreams." 

If. //. .)[ARTIN. 



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