Country Life in Georgia
in the Days of My Youth:
Electronic Edition

Felton, Rebecca Latimer, 1835-1930

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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

LC Subject Headings:
• Felton, Rebecca Latimer, 1835-1930.
• Women -- Georgia -- Biography.
• Feminists -- Georgia -- Biography.
• Georgia -- Social life and customs.
• Georgia -- Politics and government.
• Country life -- Georgia.
• Women -- Suffrage -- United States -- History.
• Georgia -- History.
• United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives, Confederate.

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  finished TEI-conformant encoding and final proofing.
  
  
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• 1997-10-20,
  Kathleen Feeney
  finished scanning (OCR) and proofing.
  
  

Country Life in Georgia
In the Days of My Youth

ALSO
Addresses Before Georgia Legislature Woman's
Clubs, Women's Organizations and other
Noted Occassions

BY

REBECA LATIMER FELTON,
Widow of Hon. W. H. Felton

Copyright - 1919 by Mrs. Felton

Printed by Index Printing Company
Atlanta, Ga.

DEDICATION.

IN LOVING OF MY BELOVED FRIEND,
THE LATE MRS. RUSSELL SAGE,
OF NEW YORK CITY.

        The greatest woman philanthropist in the known world. She gave millions upon millions of her wealth - to education - to philanthropic institutions - to charity - to every good enterprise which appealed to her - and dying after ninety glorious years of good deeds-she left many other millions to other institutions - to war support and other magnificent benefactions.

        She was also a noble Christian woman.

        She had a broad vision as to proper uses for great wealth - a lofty example of unselfishness.

        Untold generations and unborn millions will be benefited by her noble gifts, and they will rise up and bless her name and memory!

THE AUTHOR.

WHY THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN.

        Why this Book was written after I had passed my eighty-second year deserves an explanation. Understanding the infirmities of age, which can be easily increased by worry and overwork, I had almost decided to allow my accumulated manuscripts to remain after my decease, when those who survive me might give them to publisher if so desired. But when I gave this statement to a number of my sincere friends I was met with a storm of protest. They said I might do this work, if I would be careful as to health, and with frequent rest spells. I explained that while my memory was still good, and my condition normal, still I was a very old lady - much of my physical strength abated - and old people by reason of age were almost sure to become garrulous, talked too much (if they have impatient kinspeople) and were set in their ways of thinking as well as of saying and doing things, and are old-fogyish in regard to modern methods and activities. Nevertheless they have insisted and reminded me that while we have Southern histories concerning the Civil War, compiled from data furnished by political and military leaders, the outside world really knows very little of how the people of Georgia lived in the long ago, before the days of railroads, telegraphs, telephones, cook stoves, sewing machines, kerosene oil, automobiles, tri-cycles and a multitude of other things now in common use. "We can read about those things with a greater relish when we hear about the olden time, than when they were unknown propositions." They reminded me that Boswell's Life of Johnson really gives more satisfactory information about the early habits and homes of English people than all the fine and elaborate histories by illustrious writers. Finally I concluded to send some of my already printed articles to a distinguished Georgia gentleman who has never held political office, or sought any preferment or promotion, but whose name

is a synonym of lofty integrity and honest purpose, and who could easily command the votes of his state and section. He had at several times insisted upon my printing or collecting together the literary accumulations of my long lifetime, urging their preservation, etc.

        When his reply reached me I finally decided to set my face to the task. I copy here a few lines of his highly prized letter: "I am returning herewith your papers, registering the package in order that there may be no possibility of their being lost. I assure you it gave me much pleasure in reading these articles of the past, giving me an opportunity of knowing something of the history of the politics of Georgia with which I am not familiar. In your reply to Hon. ---- you demonstrated your full knowledge of the political situation and issues of your day and the records of the public men of the time. It is needless for me to say, you used your pen in a vigorous manner. Your usual vigorous style of writing was stimulated in this case by your determination to protect the good name and acts of one near and dear to you. The other articles read like prophesy. They could be used in present customs. You have lived to see part of your dreams realized. It must give you great and added pleasure and incentives to labor for causes you advocated long before 1900.

        "It is information of this kind that is contained in the articles you sent me, which I do hope you will incorporate in a forthcoming book, along with all other similar data, for only in this way will it give to coming generations an opportunity of appreciating in full the work which you did for Georgia and which will give them the advantages of a true insight as to the political history of the State during your lifetime. Sincerely yours ----."

        My attachment to the readers of the Georgia newspapers is something like the affection that an aged grandmother feels towards her great grandchildren. We understand each other, and generally we think alike. Numbers of these readers (in their loving confidence) have named children for me. I prize their

affection. I wish for them Heaven's richest blessings when their faithful old friend can write no more! They write to me and touch my heart, and some of them say further - "You have a large following in the State of Georgia who are devoted to you, especially among the rural citizens, the plain people of the State. They always feel assured you will state facts and furnish proof if your statements should be questioned.

        We will be glad if you will consent to write and publish this chronicle for those you have loved so long and served so well."

        Longfellow's beautiful poem, 'Morituri Salutamus,' is pertinent as my reply and acceptance of the task:

                        "Something remains for us to do and dare
                        Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear.
                        Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles
                        Wrote his Grand Oedipus and Simonides
                        Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers,
                        When each had numbered more than forescore years.
                        And Theophrastus at fourscore and ten
                        Had but begun his Characters of Men.
                        Chaucer at Woodstock, with the nightingales
                        At sixty wrote the Canterbury Tales.
                        Goethe at Weimar, toiling to the last,
                        Completed Faust when eighty years were past.
                        These are indeed exceptions, but they show
                        How far the Gulf Stream of our youth may flow
                        Into the Arctic region of our lives,
                        Where little else than life itself survives.
                        For age is opportunity no less
                        Than youth itself, though in another dress,
                        And, as the evening twilight fades away,
                        The sky is filled with stars.
                        Invisible by day."

CHAPTER I.

SOME INDIAN REMINISCENSES.

        Among the recollections of my childhood, the most startling to my youthful mind, was a story told me by my mother of an Indian raid that came near enough to my grandfather's home to massacre and scalp the whole family of friends, Brantly by name. Within a very few miles of the Brantly's there was a large settlement of whites, who owned their farms - some had lands inherited from their parents. For many years they had not been thus molested and the massacre of the Brantly family came like a shock from a clear sky. Mr. Brantly was plowing in a nearby field, his wife, with a servant woman, was washing at the spring branch, when the red skins swooped down upon them and tomahawked the last one of them.

        Morgan county, Ga., was not a border county either, and when the alarm was given, my grandfather Swift, then a comparatively young man, saddled a gentle horse, helped my grandmother into the saddle, lifted my small uncle, William, up behind her, and placed the three-months old baby (my own dear mother) in grandmother's lap. Armed with a musket, he walked beside the horse, until they were in sight of my great grandfather's home, when he bade his little family goodbye and went back to join the near neighbors who had agreed to pursue the Indians. Night and day these armed men hunted the tracks of the murderers, but to small effect. This occurred in the year 1813.

        My mother's aunt, born a Talbot, went to Texas with her husband and children - two in number - with a slave woman who had been given her by her father before she left her girlhood home for the "wild west." They arrived at their destination in Texas, cleared some land, built a house and were comfortably settled,

to start a home and make a fortune. The little family were at supper table one night, the four-year old boy in his high chair close at his father's right hand and the year-old baby girl also in her high chair, with a home-made doll in her arms, when the Mexican Indians raided the place, killed and scalped the husband and wife, also the little boy. They took with them the baby girl and the colored nurse and departed. The family in Georgia were informed by some means that the Mexican Indians would ransom the little girl, but she was twelve years old before her mother's brothers got on track of her, and they made the long, wearisome trip on horseback to a place designated in Texas and found their sister's child (still in care of the servant woman who had taken up with one of the natives). The ransom was paid as agreed upon. The young girl was mounted on a Mexican pony, the colored woman on another pony, and the faithful uncles started on the long return trip to Georgia.

        All went well the first day. On the second day the colored woman lagged behind for some purpose. Before the uncles were apprised of her ruse, she was whipping the two ponies and escaping. Another long parly was had, and another ransom was handed over. The colored woman was left behind this time, but the journey through Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama was a fearful one, constant anxiety about Indians was added to the fatigues of the long travel, all on horseback.

        The girl brought her doll with her, the only memory that remained to her of her parents and little brother. She died early - was never fully at ease with her surroundings and slow in adapting herself to the ways of her kindred.

        The girl was my mother's own cousin and I found myself constantly pondering over what had happened to her in that wild country. So it is easy to understand that my early life was much concerned about Indians. I was really three years old when the Cherokee tribe was forcibly removed from Georgia in 1838, and were started on their long trip to Indian Territory. It has been stated that four thousand died on

the way before the exiles could stop and find a resting place. There were 14,000 who began the march. The journey of six or seven hundred miles was performed in about five months. Chief men of the Cherokees were assassinated on the trip. Those who took an active part in negotiating the treaty with the United States government, at New Echota, Major Ridge and his son, John, with Elias Bondinat, thus met their untimely fate. Forty years ago I met in Washington City another Elias Boudinot, a direct descendant of the murdered Cherokee Chief. He had held office under the Confederate congress and was then employed as agent for his people in their dealings with the Federal Government, when I questioned him concerning the fate of his ancestor. This final treaty with the Cherokee Indians was held in Murray county, Ga., and the house that John Ross lived in is still standing within the town limits of Rossville, Walker county, Ga, only a few miles from Chattanooga, which was named for him, then known as "Ross' Landing." Ross opposed the removal of the Cherokees and the factions for and against were known as the Ridge party and the Ross party. The Indians were finally collected at Ross' landing (Chattanooga) on June 10th, 1838, for the State of Georgia took possession of this Cherokee Country on 24th of May, 1838.

        In Bartow county, where I have been a citizen since the year 1853, there are most remarkable mounds on a plantation which has been in possession of the Tumlin family for more than seventy years. These mounds seem to antedate Indian occupation. So far as known the Indians have no tradition concerning them. They are the work of skilled architects and some of the relics found in those ancient mounds are exquisite productions. There is a vase of artistic shape and high coloring which was unearthed by an unusual flood time, in the Etowah river, that we may reasonably suppose was fashioned by a race of people who occupied this section of the country long before anything was known of the rude and illiterate aboriginal Indians of America. Also a large platter of beautiful workmanship was purchased by the authorities of the

Smithsonian Institute and highly prized by American scientists. The red Indians were in possession when Columbus landed in 1492. Those who erected these mounds were here before the Indian period of occupancy in earlier centuries.

        In this Cherokee section of Georgia the Indian names for rivers are still preserved without change, and many of Georgia's streams in other sections have the names of Indian origin. Except the mounds, there is but little else remaining to tell the story of the red man who refused to be the white man's slave, prefering to be bayonetted off the continent, in his love for freedom. When the full story of world democracy is chronicled, in the light of this world-wide European war as connected with the Republic of the United States, what relation will the Red Indian bear to the Russian peasant who has so lately accepted democracy in lieu of Czarism? The Red Indians of North America refused to become the white man's slave, while Africa made no resistance. The aboriginal Indian received the white man as a friend until the white man taught him to drink "fire water" and dispossessed him of his "happy hunting grounds." The African in the slave-holding states did not rise up in defense of democracy or human freedom when the Federal armies of the North had overrun and subjugated the slave owning Southern Confederacy. Whoever writes the true story of the red man must give him credit for higher ideals and loftier patriotism than the Mongolian or any of the yellow or black tribes can furnish.

        The story of Georgia for a hundred years and the methods used to dispossess the Indians of their happy hunting grounds will ever be a humiliating confession of the Anglo-Saxon's greed and injustice against their red brother.

        Perhaps the most thrilling recital of such assumacy and violence is found in the city of Washington, where the government of the United States has chronicled it, found in various volumes under the title of American State Papers, and I read the story of the "Yazoo Fraud" forty years ago, in certain of these

volumes that I procured from the House Library upon application with a Congressman's written order.

        There had been a bill passed through the Georgia Legislature, and which Gov. George Matthews signed, which sold to certain trading companies all the lands owned by Georgia, from the Oconee river to the Mississippi, and from the Tennessee line southward to Florida, a tract that covered the two states afterwards organized into Alabama and Mississippi, besides the entire western part of Georgia. These lands, as described in the petitions and deeds, amounted to nearly 22,000,000 acres. As soon as these lands were corruptly sold the companies computed the tract as containing 40,000,000 acres. Wars with Indians had been expensive to the taxpayers of Georgia and a lying title was made to the bill for sale of these so-called "Yazoo" lands, and a provision was inserted looking towards payment of state troops with the money that these lands sold for. The forty-million tract was really bargained away for $500,000, the state getting one-fifth of the money in hand, the balance mortgaged to be paid within ten months. There were four of these companies, the Georgia Company, the largest of the four, took half the gross amount, $250,000, the Georgia-Mississippi, $155,000; the Upper Mississippi, $35,000, and the Tennessee Company, $60,000, each getting by metes and bounds the lands proportioned to these respective payments. The state of Georgia sold twice the land that these pretended traders claimed to receive, and for half the money that was really brought forward. A lying title was made to cover the outrageous swindle, and the legislative act forbade the sale of an acre of the land to any "foreign king, prince or potentate." It was worded to attract foreigners as well as emigrants from other states of the Union. Having bought a principality at less than the eighth of a cent per acre, the plan was laid to sell at very low figures and sell as quickly as possible.

        Augusta was the capital of Georgia, and the record shows that the honor of the state and her greatest public interests were bartered off by traitorous Representatives and the Chief Executive. Except one man,

Robert Watkins by name, the official record in Washington city shows that every man who voted for the sale was corruptly influenced. The Senate of Georgia consisted of 20 members - ten voted for the sale, 8 against it. In the Lower House there were 34 members - nineteen voted for the sale and nine in the negative. In these volumes, called "American State Papers," the amounts paid to these traitorous representatives are set down. Some received cash, some large grants of land, some had negroes conveyed to them, etc., but the whole story is blazoned in full in these official records. I copied down every single name and the amount received, but I have made a lifelong rule in discussing matters of this kind, to spare the names for sake of innocent relatives who might be hurt by a public exposure of such evil things, unless certain actors in public betrayaal of their constituents had made personal attacks on me or mine, then I made the story very plain with names, dates and proof. A judge of the Supreme Court of the United States was one of the active conspirators in this Yazoo Swindle, James Wilson by name, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, also a member of the Continental Congress, a member of the convention that formed the Constitution of the United States, and at the time that this Yazoo sale was carried through the legislature of Georgia, one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of the United States, and so elevated in public confidence that he was one of the original selections for the organization of the first Supreme Court of the United States. Prepared by his position to adjudicate the very first test case that might be made - appealed by these corrupt Yazooists. He became a leading partner and interested to the extent of a million acres in this unparallelled swindle in barefaced wickedness. Side by side with this schemer on the bench and unworthy official, was Nathaniel Pendleton, District Judge for the Northern District of Georgia, also Andrew McAlister, District Attorney of the United States for Georgia. There were only two Superior Court districts in the State, and one of the two judges was William Stith, who accepted $13,000 in cash and promise

of the traitors to elect him the next Governor of Georgia. The contrast was great between Judge Stith and Judge George Walton, who illustrated his office and retired from the bench without a spot or blemish on his character.

        The active man in Georgia, the chief conspirator, was United States Senator James Gunn. He came from Virginia during the revolutionary war, and joined Gen. Greene's army when Gen. Washington dispatched Gen. Greene to recover the Carolinas and Georgia. After the losing battle of Camden, Gen. Greene had a fuss with him about disreputable horse racing and it is reported that he swindled a woman who was seeking to recover pay for a celebrated race horse belonging to her husband's estate. In Simms' Life of Gen. Greene, some of these things are related. But Gunn was adroit in his methods. In 1789 he was chosen to the U. S. Senate with Senator Wm. Few. When he ran for re-election the Yazooists were his champions and he prosecuted the Yazoo Fraud to the limit of his ability and he prostituted his senatorial influence and used his ignoble opportunity to its successful promotion. His last term in office expired in 1801; after the vengeance of Georgia had descended on the ignoble men who had vilely betrayed her trust. When the people awoke to the certain knowledge that the men who had bought the "Yazoo lands" had bribed the majority of the Georgia legislature and the Governor, the Congress of the United States also became aroused to the infamy of the transaction. Gen. James Jackson, the other Georgia Senator, resigned his seat in Congress, came home to Georgia and was elected to the Legislature which rescinded the Act, and the tempest of indignation against those who were bribed made some of them uneasy as to what would happen to them at home. The Yazoo sale was denounced in the Legislature as a fraud, the Yazoo Act was rescinded and the records were publicly burned in Louisville, Georgia (then the State Capital), by fire drawn from Heaven by a sun glass. In the days when matches were very scarce, these sun glasses were common. I well remember seeing them in my childhood's

home. Georgia's title to the immense tract sold to Gunn and Wade Hampton of South Carolina, and their co-workers was seriously questioned in Congress. Our disturbances with Spain and the dread of Indian alliances with Great Britain made Gen. Washington anxious. After years of dispute and political chicanery Congress finally appropriated five millions of dollars to settle the claims of innocent purchasers, and then the lands were divided as at present, between Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi.

        But the Yazoo swindlers soon passed out as owners. They sold out rapidly and covered their ill-gotten gains into their plethoric pockets. This Yazoo history is fully told in the American State Papers alluded to in this article. I read these facts myself in Washington city. One declaration by the Congress of the United States remains vivid in memory. The names, the amounts paid to bribed officials and the shame of this transaction, are to be carefully kept, so long as the government of the United States remains in force, as a living witness so to speak of the infamy of the actors, forevermore.

        In Gov. Bullock's time there were ugly stories of bribed legislators, and there have been various legislative and congressional investigations that make the people at home aware that frauds and swindles were still active in political centres, but the only part of my life that came in actual touch with corrupt politicians in high places when my husband was in Congress, was that well-known era of graft and bribery that attended the corrupt progress of Pacific Railroad legislation in the national congress in the 70s and 80s, when men of high position in many states were openly pointed at as being owned by these railroad authorities and serving in their pay, and yet holding commissions as senators and congressmen in the highest legislative body in the world. Supreme Court judges were also known to be their willing servants, appointed under agreement as filling campaign pledges and Pacific Railroad lobbyists had the finest quarters and highest salaries known to that period in Washington city

homes and hotels. History repeats itself. Human nature is the same in all ages.

MY KINSPEOPLE.

        At the risk of appearing egotistical I must tell you a good deal of my grandparents and parents, because it is to their memories and traditions that I owe very much of the information which it is my purpose to relate in these pages. As I knew of these personages better than all others, I am doubtless impressed by their opinions, and their hereditary associations and trends of thought have been more or less perpetuated in their descendants, I cannot, therefore, very well avoid such opinions or omit such mention.

        So far as known my forbears were either Virginians or Marylanders in the early days of the Republic. My father was a boy of seven years when his parents moved from Maryland to Georgia. Both of his parents had progenitors at that time who had been living in Maryland nearly one hundred and fifty years, and both of his grandfathers served in the Army of the Revolution. There was a trunk full of papers, letters and various valuable documents in my childhood home, once the property of his mother, and many of the letters were written to her, after she moved to Georgia, by the Maryland kin. I can recall the delight it gave me to examine my grandmother's papers when I was a bit of a girl. I recollect she was married by a bishop of Maryland - she was a staunch Episcopalian - and the Bishop's name was signed to the marriage contract that closely antedated the wedding festivities and ceremonies. Alas! When "Sherman marched through Georgia" the trunk, with the letters and papers, were all destroyed, as were thousands of other properties of like interest in countless Georgia homes during the Civil War. But the ownership of her own estate is substantiated by the records at Annapolis, Md., and in the court house of LaPlata, Charles county, where deeds and wills are fortunately

of permanent record. The various farms which she sold before moving to Georgia, and also the sale of "Marshall Hall," on the Potomac river, are recorded in the records here mentioned, and it is interesting to note that a Maryland woman did own and manage and sell her own lands as early as the year 1803. "Marshall Hall," on the Potomac river, as many of my readers know, is nearly opposite to Mt. Vernon, and is the great picnic grounds for Washington city people. In the mid-summer of June, 1916, there were seven of the largest church organizations in the nation's capital that picnicked there in one day when I chanced to go along on a river boat, and it was said that ten thousand tickets were sold at the 7th Street wharf during the day here mentioned. These river steamers touch first at Mt. Vernon and then continue to "Marshall Hall." As early as 1650 a Marshall bought and owned a place named "Marshall," and of this tract on the Potomac river he willed two hundred acres to his daughter Barbara. She married a Hanson and this two-hundred acre tract continued in the ownership and occupancy of Marshalls and Hansons as late as 1847, and has been known as Marshall Hall for considerably more than two hundred years. My grandmother inherited it from her father's estate and sold it in 1803 to her brother, preparatory to removal, as before stated, to Georgia. There were three brothers (her uncles and father) by name John, Richard and William. All three owned a part of an estate called "Three Brothers." Richard died and his will was dated October 30, 1757, before the war of Independence. John Marshall died in 1801. William Marshall died in Chas Co., Md., in 1793. John, William, Philip, son of John, and Thomas, son of Richard, all took the oath of allegiance between 1775 and 1778. (It is recorded that Hon. Benj. Few, one of Georgia's noted Revolutionary officers, was born in 1744, at "Three Sisters" plantation, near Baltimore, Harford Co., Md. He has a Georgia descendant in Dr. Jas. E. Dickey, president of Emory College in Georgia.)

        In the time of Charles the 1st he who lost his head in Cromwell's time, Maryland was inhabited by Indian

tribes. A gang of bandits, however, settled on Kent Island in the Chesapeake bay. Charles the 1st conferred a grant in Newfoundland on George Calvert, the first Lord Baltimore, and who had been Knighted by James 1st of England.

        The climate was so forbidding that Calvert traveled southward and beheld a country lying on the Chesapeake bay and the Potomac river, which greatly pleased him. When he returned to England he so impressed Queen Henrietta Maria with his accounts of that part of the New World that King Charles conferred this Maryland grant on George Calvert. Soon after he sickened and died. His title and estates were turned over to his son and heir, Cecil, the second Lord Baltimore. Cecil afterward commissioned his brother Leonard to take possession, and the new country was given the name of Maryland in honor of the enthusiastic Queen. Two hundred and four Englishmen, with their families, sailed in two small ships called The Ark and The Dove, and after a tedious voyage, landed on Kent Island. Among those who came over with Governor Leonard Calvert, Lord Baltimore (Cecil never came to Maryland) were four young Hansons, wards of the Queen Henrietta Maria. Two of them later returned to England. Randolph Hanson, one of the four, and who died in 1699, married in early life Barbara Marshall, before mentioned, who had inherited the two hundred acres forming a part of the plantation called "Marshall."

        In "Sidelights on Maryland History" it is recorded that the title to "Marshall Hall" was made by an Indian Chief and patented by Lord Baltimore. There were frequent intermarriages between the Hansons and Marshalls. In the list of fourteen Marshalls that can be seen in Colonial Hall, Washington city, as signers of the oath of allegiance in 1775-78 there is a John Marshall Hanson, a John Hanson Marshall, and Thomas Marshall Hanson. It was a Hanson, an official who took down the names of these signers in Chas Co. Each name had a date, also a number and this signature is considered the highest test of loyalty.

        In the recorded will of Capt. Randolph Brandt, who

died in 1699, and whose will I copied some months ago, in the Land Office at Annapolis, he gives his son, Randolph Brandt the 2nd, "two hundred acres lying on the Potomac river near land of Randolph Hanson's, wherein Brandt is now dwelling, called Hammersmith." Randolph Brandt the 2nd witnessed the will of Randolph Hanson, in 1698, likewise did Richard Harrison, progenitor of two Presidents Harrison, both of Hanson lineage. This data I collected from "Maryland Calendar of Wills" with proper dates, books of record and numbers on pages in folio.

        The title deeds from the Indian chief are said to be still in possession of Marshall and Hanson families. The present owners of "Marshall Hall have been seeking the Bible record of these early owners and offered some aged relatives five hundred dollars for a Bible containing the names of a number of them, but the offer was declined."

        One of these Hansons was so highly respected in Maryland that the state has presented his statue to the Hall of Fame in U. S. Capitol. Along with Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, the two represent their native state. John Hanson, whose magnificent marble statue can be seen in this Hall of Fame, was a grandson of John Hanson, the emigrant and son of Robert Hanson. This distinguished John Hanson was early elected to the General Assembly of Maryland, and is known in Colonial history as one of the most noted of its citizens. He was also distinguished in Revolutionary affairs. He was president of congress when the seat of government was located in Philadelphia, and welcomed General Washington before the U. S. Congress when he returned from Yorktown after the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. These facts can all be found in the Library of Congress, in "Sidelights on Maryland History." Both the Presidents Harrison were of his lineal descendants. U. S. Senator James Alford Pearce was a descendant. Hon. John Hanson Thomas was U. S. Senator from Maryland, dying in 1815. Dr. John Hanson Thomas was in the Legislature of Maryland, 1861-65. He was confined in Federal prison for six months. Pages 121-324 "Sidelights of

Maryland History." This John Hanson of the Hall of Fame was born in Charles county, 1715, died 1793. There were two dominating factions in the State of Maryland before and during the Colonial wars. John Hanson represented the Protestants while Lord Baltimore and his following were zealous Catholics. Hanson's grandfather, the emigrant, known in Maryland records as the "Colonel," was doubtless a brother to Randolph Hanson - both wards of Queen Henrietta Maria - the latter, as before stated, living at Marshall Hall, and married to Barbara Marshall after 1650 and mentioned in her father's will, probated in 1698, and is of record in Annapolis at this time. Randolph Hanson's will was made in 1698, and all these Hansons and Marshalls were citizens of Charles county, named for King Charles of England. Their wills are all recorded.

        General Washington's half brother, Lawrence, inherited the magnificent estate of Mt. Vernon on the death of his father. Lawrence became the guardian of George when the latter was twelve years old. Lawrence married into the Fairfax family, one of the most distinguished in Colonial history. George therefore spent much of his time at Mt. Vernon when he was very young. In 1752 Lawrence died, leaving an infant daughter and when the little girl died, George, the future President, succeeded to the estate of Mt. Vernon as legal owner. The Washingtons came into Virginia as early as 1657. It will be seen that these Marshalls and Hansons were even then their neighbors, their lands being divided only by the Potomac river. This nearness accounts for the fact that fourteen Marshalls residents of Charles county, Maryland, just across the river, signed the oath of allegiance to the Revolutionary cause in 1775-78. If General Washington had failed every one of these neighbors would have been exiled, their lands confiscated and doubtless their heads would have adorned a pike. My grandmother, Rebecca Marshall Latimer, inherited Marshall Hall on the death of her father in the year 1793. Gen. Washington died at Mt. Vernon in 1799. My own father was born in 1799. The ownership of

this Marshall tract began in 1651 according to "Maryland Calendar of Wills." It is obvious that Marshall Hall and Mt. Vernon House were erected near the same time. It is family tradition that brick were brought in from England, possibly as ballast for sail-vessels. Furniture and other things came in also, possibly exchanged for tobacco, the market crop of early Marylanders. This tobacco brought ready money in pounds shillings and pence. Tobacco is still grown in Maryland on a large plantation known as Lord Baltimore's "Dower House," seventeen miles below Washington city. I visited the old Dower House in 1914 with a party of friends and the owner and hostess told us of her growing tobacco crop that day. This old Dower House was built to withstand Indian attack. A secret outlet, like a tunnel, was constructed as a means of escape should the red skins overcome the whites in this great house. There were friendly Indians as well as hostiles, and another ancestor of our family had a good deal to do with this Indian warfare about the same era of Maryland history.

        Capt. Randolph Brandt might have been born in the Barbadoes, where his father and mother and oldest brother lived and died, for their wills are recorded there in proper form and order, but family tradition tells of English birth and lineage for the ancestors. Capt. Randolph Brandt came into Maryland before 1660, upon the invitation of Lord Baltimore. They were close friends and patriotic workers during life and "Maryland Archives" preserved in the Library of Congress, is full of the story of Capt. Brandt's unusual patriotism. He and Lord Baltimore were zealous Catholics through life. Capt. Brandt had a wife and children when he settled at "Penguiah Manor," about the year 1670, in Charles county, and the name of the plantation is still connected with the soil, and the land lies quite near the county site of LaPlata.

        The county site of Charles county up to the close of the Civil War was "Port Tobacco." Federals and Confederates had numerous clashes. It was evident that county records were in danger of destruction. These books, of incalculable value to future history

were conveyed to the Land Office in Annapolis as a place of safety. After a splendid court house, erected at LaPlata, the new county site, had been finished these valuable records have going back into the custody of Charles county officials. The room in which they are stored at LaPlata is modern and fireproof. It was at LaPlata that I found fuller records of my Maryland kindred, although the Land Office at Annapolis is a wonderful storage place for Colonial and Revolutionary documents. I found in LaPlata a deed of sale made by my grandmother, Rebecca Marshall Latimer (for whom I was named) to three plantations called "Walker," "Poquasket" and a part of "Three Brothers," all lying and situated in Charles county, where she and her progenitors were born and lived. For the three places here mentioned she received £1,063, ten shillings, current money at that time, nearly six thousand dollars. All plantations have a name in that section of the country. The clerk of La Plata court house told me that he himself had purchased and then owned a part of "Penguiah Manor," and named other nearby places that had names noted in the wills of the Brandt's, the Latimer's and Marshalls.' I found these facts in Book "I. B." pages 365-372 inclusive. Book "I. B." No. 7 was compiled in 1806.

        Capt. Randolph Brandt was captain of Maryland militia in 1678, member of General Colonial assembly in 1682, Commissioner of Indian Affairs when Wm. Penn was also Commissioner of Indian Affairs in State of Pennsylvania. Mary, his daughter, married James Latimer, who died in Charles county, 1718. Their son, James Latimer 2nd, married and left a son, Marcus Latimer. Marcus Latimer, grandson of James who married Mary Brandt, took oath of allegiance 1777-8. His son, William Latimer, married my grandmother, Rebecca Marshall Latimer. The sale of "Marshall Hall" is recorded Liber "C" No. 2 page 147, Land Office, Annapolis.

        James Latimer, son of James Latimer 1st and Mary Brandt, and grandson of Capt. Randolph Brandt, Lord Baltimore's friend, was prominent in early Colonial

days. This data is here set down, for the benefit of relatives who may be seeking genealogical data in days to come, and because of their connection with our forefathers.

        Capt. Brandt was expressly engaged to protect the towns of Charles county from hostile Indian invasion. He also protected friendly Indian tribes from the hostiles, who continually threatened to exterminate all Indians friendly to the white settlers. In that time of stress and strain he raised a large military company at his own expense. In remembrance thereof the Colonial assembly of Maryland voted to Capt. Brandt several thousand pounds of tobacco as a part refund for money expended in behalf of the Commonwealth. To those of our kindred who feel inclined to consult "Maryland Archives" in the Library of Congress will find on page 357, vol. 17 the following: "Capt Randolph Brandt, precept: to protect the towns of Charles county. His course of diplomacy and devotion to duty characterized Capt. Brandt's career in Maryland, and mark him as one of her noblest founders of colonial families." I copied a part of his will in the Land Office at Annapolis. He left four hundred pounds English money to the minister who would officiate at his funeral exercises. He divided lands and slaves between his heirs, also spoons and silver and gold cups, and made provision for the education of his minor children. There were five Latimers who took the oath of allegiance to Gen. Washington's cause with several of other families, sons-in-law and near kindred. It is well to copy here this oath of allegiance, as taken from records in Colonial Hall, D. A. R. documents in Washington city: "I do swear I do not hold myself bound to yield any allegiance or obedience to the king of Great Britain, his heirs and his successors; that I will be true and faithful to the State of Maryland, and will, to the utmost of my power, support, maintain and defend the freedom and independence thereof, and the government as now established, against all enemies and traitorous conspiracies and will use my utmost endeavors to disclose and make known to the governor or to some one of the justices

or judges thereof, all treasons or traitorous conspiracies, attempts or combinations against the State or Government thereof which may come to my knowledge. So help me God."

        Both of my Maryland great grandfathers took that oath. Both served under General Washington, who lived across the Potomac river, in sight. Several of my great uncles took the same oath. One was a major in the Revolutionary army, who willed his valuable sword to his daughter's son and his namesake, provided he (the youth) should serve his government with loyalty and patriotism. This brave old kinsman died in 1801, only surviving his great general, Washington, barely one year. His will, recorded in La Plata courthouse, Charles county, covers seven mammoth pages, and these pages are nearly or quite two feet square. In this will he bequeaths his part of "Three Brothers" to his son, Philip. In the will of Richard Marshall (1750) a part of "Three brothers" was given to his son, and his riding saddle and wearing apparel to his beloved brother, William Marshall (my grandmother's father). And William Marshall's part of "Three Brothers," passed to her, when he died intestate in 1793. Each of these three brothers owned a part of a tract called "Point St. William" in addition to "Three Brothers."

        The Fendalls of Maryland were related to these Marshalls, as John Fendall owned a part of "Three Brothers," also a part of Point Marshall. Thomas Hanson Marshall owned a part of "Marshall's Adventure."

        Among the early Maryland settlers appears the name of Ann Marshall, 1641; Richard Marshall, 1658; Rebecca Marshall, 1643; William, 1640, and another Richard, 1646. These arrived in Maryland before the advent of the Brandts. There is recorded an early settler, 1645, belonging to Latimer family.

        The Bealls, who intermarried with the Marshalls, two of them marrying my grandmother's sisters, sold their plantations in 1793, preparing to move to Georgia - one as late as 1803. Emigration was afterwards heavy toward Georgia.

        "The Yazoo Fraud," of which I have written elsewhere, and more fully had been exposed and finally settled by Congress, which opened up a vast territory of fine lands, well watered, reaching from the Oconee river to the Mississippi river and these lands having been cleared of all difficulty as to government title, became exceedingly attractive to Virginians and Marylanders. As a rule they were slave owners and they sought more land to expand their agricultural pursuits, and many of those of whom I have here written, sold out and undertook the long overland journey with only wagons and carts for their necessary transportation. Many North Carolinians were also seized with this moving fever, and among them we can place all of my great-grandparents, parental and maternal on both sides of the house.

        It must have given my grandmother Rebecca Marshall Latimer, a pang of regret to vacate the beautiful Marshall Hall on the Potomac river, owned by her family for nearly two hundred years, and to start southward across three states, to find a home at last in the wilds of Georgia, in Warren county. The little seven-year-old boy (my father) has often told his daughters of crossing the Potomac river on a flat-boat. The family left behind them the splendid brick residence, the capacious barn and outbuildings, all built of brick, perfectly sound and useful at this present time, a home of former wealth and luxury, to adventure life, fortune and happiness in a sparsely settled country, fully half of which was still inhabited by red Indians. They had also to leave the graves of their kindred in the cemetery which is still enclosed at Marshall Hall and full of Marshall dead. But there is a record on a gravestone showing that a Thomas Hanson Marshall was an owner and buried there as late as 1843, with an inscription signed by his beloved wife, who then survived him. There are inscriptions showing this burial place of Marshalls as early as 1680, and there are living kinspeople, who tell of a visit to this old family home and still owned by relatives as late as 1872 and 1880.

        It is now the property of the Potomac Boat Company, and as before stated, transformed into a great recreation pleasure grounds, where the residents of the National Capitol are delighted to assemble on every fair day in the summer time with pleasant weather, beautiful river trip and outing.

        In Georgia there are many of the descendants of those Marshalls, Brandts, Bealls and Latimers, all of whom are more or less familiar with Charles county, Maryland, traditions and memories, among them the Furlows, the Hollingsworths and others that I fail to remember at this writing. Before leaving the subject of Maryland's kindred, it is a matter of history that James Latimer and Mary Brandt, daughter of Capt. Randolph Brandt, were entrusted with the guardianship and care of two Fairfax orphans. Lawrence Washington married a Fairfax, and you can find the following in "Sidelights on Maryland History," page 315. "In the absence of Parish registers or complete early Charles county records, the exact relation of the Latimers and other Charles county families is not exactly proven, but the fact that John Fairfax left his minor children, Ann and William, to live with James Latimer and the close ties shown in the records to have existed between the families, imply kinship. John Fairfax was the earliest of the Charles county Fairfax family, many years before Lord Fairfax became identified with Maryland." James Latimer herein named, had a family home called "Maycock's Rest," which descended to my great grandfather.

        In this compilation of genealogical data of family history my main object has been to give information to surviving kinspeople and also in a general way to show to our readers how Georgia was settled in the early years of the 19th century.

        This influx of cultivated people from states that had superior advantages in wealth and culture, gave Georgia an uplift that was felt in many different ways to the immense benefit of the English settlers who had come over with General Oglethorpe seeking a refuge from autocracy and royal mandates, the victims of

oppressive laws and debtors who were thus released from prison bounds. The first ten governors of Georgia were English born. Archibald Bullock, Theodore Roosevelt's ancestor, came from S. Carolina, Gov. George Walton was born in Virginia, Stephen Heard came from Ireland, Lyman Hall, Connecticut; Samuel Elbert, South Carolina in 1740; Telfair, Scotland, 1735; George Matthews from Virginia, he who wrecked a magnificent military and legislative record with affiliation with the "Yazoo Swindle." Jared Irwin, he who signed the rescinding act of the Yazoo law, seems to have been a native Georgian. Gen. James Jackson and the ancestors of Gov. Milledge came to Georgia from England. Peter Early came to Georgia in 1795 or 6 from Virginia, one of those who emigrated from with great numbers from Maryland and Virginia. Matthew Talbot, my mother's kinsman, and a lineal descendant of Capt. Matthew Talbot, distinguished in Revolutionary war, was born in Virginia and moved to Georgia in 1785. Governors Clark and Rabun came from upper North Carolina. Gov. Troup was a native Georgian, elected in 1823. Forsyth was a Virginian, also Wilson Lumpkin, born in 1783. Wm. Schley, elected in 1835, was a native of Maryland. Afterwards native-born governors were the rule and not the exception in the gubernatorial chair of Georgia. Rev. Hope Hull was born in Maryland, Rev. Henry Holcombe was born in Virginia, two very great leaders in Methodist and Baptist organizations in primitive Georgia days. Colonel Wm. Few was born in Baltimore county, Maryland, in 1748, a magnificent Indian fighter in Georgia. He was United States Senator from Georgia in 1793. Governor Matthew Talbot filled the office of Governor with credit to himself and to the family. My maternal grandmother was Lucy Talbot with a direct line to Capt. Matthew Talbot of Virginia and a kinswoman of Governor Talbot who settled in Wilkes county in 1785, afterwards removing to Oglethorpe county in Georgia. In White's miscellainies it is recorded "He died on 17th Sept., 1827, aged 60 years, leaving behind him the character of an honest and patriotic

citizen." In "Men of Mark," compiled by ex-Gov. Northen, we hear more of Gov. Talbot. The State of Georgia fitly perpetuated his memory by naming one of her counties for him. I remember hearing Hon. Alexander Stephens speak of the lofty integrity of Matthew Talbot, as one of Georgia's most patriotic citizens.

        My maternal grandfather was Thomas Swift, a member of one of Georgia's very excellent families that settled in Morgan county after the Revolution. My grandfather was the eldest of four brothers, and married Lucy Talbot near the year 1810. His father was a planter and slave owner, and tradition has it that the Swifts and Talbots emigrated from Virginia after the Revolutionary war and obtained lands on Sandy creek in Morgan county, which their descendants owned for at least a hundred years. The next brother was Dr. Elias Swift who married a sister of Major Taylor, of Athens, Ga., who was a practicing physician and died in Madison, Ga., when a young man. The succeeding brother, Dr. John Swift, married in early life a sister of Messrs. John and Stewart Floyd, of Newton county. She died, leaving two children, one of them the late Mr. E. S. Swift, of Columbus, who has surviving children. Dr. John Swift was married the second time to Miss Mary Ann Harris, a sister of Hon Y. L. G. Harris, one of Georgia's noted philanthropists. She became the mother of a large family of children, being left a widow when the most of them were small. Mrs. Mary Ann Swift lived to be nearly one hundred years old. Mr. William Augustine Swift married a Miss Keller, of Abbeville, South Carolina, and two of his sons, Thomas and John, are still living in Elbert county, while the aged widow is nearing the century mile stone and is still a very remarkable woman of the olden time. This longevity is worth mentioning as in striking contrast to the fragility of more modern women. There were two sisters of this early Swift family, Mrs. Mary Darden and Mrs. Bethenia Lewis, who also raised large families.

        My Maryland grandmother died several years before I was born, so it was my Georgia grandmother,

Mrs. Lucy Talbot Swift, around whom my early recollections cluster and are well remembered up to this good time. I was often at her home (which she inherited, and was her father's early residence) and I was a close observer of her housekeeping methods and of her abounding hospitality. The mother of eleven children, all reaching maturity, except two that lived to eleven and twelve years, her industry, her management and her executive ability in caring for and carrying on her household affairs are still wonderful memories, and have continually lingered with me as examples in the progress of my own extended life. It was a fine specimen of a Southern planter's family and home in ante-bellum times. Grandfather had a plantation, a grain mill and saw mill, which kept him busy with his own duties as a provider, but it was grandmother's skill as a home-maker, with an eye single to her domestic duties and diligent attention to home economies, that impressed me most in that early time of my life when I trotted around after her as she went from the dwelling to the garden, and to the milk dairy, to the poultry house, to the loom house, to the big meat house, where rations were issued once a day, and to the flour and meal house where there was always a superabundance of supplies for white and colored. She had fowls of all domestic kinds to look after and there were fattening pigs in the pen also. She had geese to raise feathers for the family beds, because there were no mattresses in that early time. When one of the children married there was a substantial outfit prepared to set them up for limited housekeeping. There were no such things as "comforts" eighty years ago, but quilt making was never interrupted, winter or summer, and in early Georgia homes woolen "coverlids" woven at home, and quilts innumerable, made by hand, were the bed coverings in all such well-to-do Georgia homes. I distinctly remember that my own mother made and quilted with her own nimble fingers, fifty good, serviceable and good looking quilts in the first ten years of her married life. In that early time, before there was a railroad in Georgia, our own home became a regular stopping

place for travelers and there was urgent need for beds that could meet the demand when people traveled from Savannah and regions lower down south even to Nashville, Tenn., going north, and after stage coaches were set going the coach expense was so great at ten cents a mile, that the bulk of the travel was still made in carriages, carts, gigs and on horseback. In event of stormy weather these travelers were often detained at our house. Sometimes floods in rivers and washed-out roads intercepted travel. All mules and horses and hogs brought into the state were driven from Kentucky and Tennessee, as there was no railroad in Georgia to furnish markets in southeastern Georgia. When my grandmother, Lucy Swift, began housekeeping, wool and flax were the dependence of housekeepers for clothing their families. Silk culture was exploited in Gen. Oglethorpe's time, but the use of cotton was handicapped. Before there were any cotton gins the cotton lint was picked from the seed by human fingers. The lint was then carded by hand, spun on home made wheels, then reeled into what were called "hanks," by use of home-made reels, then the warp was prepared for the home-made loom, by a variety of processes, all tedious and slow and all the work done by the house mother and her helpers. The thread was "sized" with a thin corn meal mush, then rolled on to home-made corn-cob spools from these stiffened "hanks," then the spools were carefully placed and manipulated on warping bars, then rolled on the beam of the loom, then drawn thread by thread into the "harness," keeping exact count of each thread, one to go up and another to go down when the treadles were moved by the weaver's foot, then carefully pulled through what was called a "sley," fashioned from canes gathered in swamps. After all this was performed the soft spun thread for "filling" was carefully transferred to small spools that were fitted into "shuttles." The warp being thus made ready for the weaver's shuttle, the process of cloth making was nearly accomplished, so the weaver pressed one treadle with her right foot and rushed the shuttle through, then pressing the other treadle with her other foot, she

again dashed the shuttle back again, each time beating up the "filling" by fierce muscular strength in her arms. In this slow, tedious, intricate and nerve-racking and painstaking way all the wearing apparel of the masses was constructed. Well-to-do men generally contrived to get a broadcloth coat, maybe once in a lifetime. The rest had coats of plain jeans. Silk dresses were scarce and with scanty lengths and they were only worn occasionally, at weddings or brilliant occasions. A "Leghorn bonnet" would last a woman a lifetime, and kid slippers were the fashionable and expensive footwear of the belles of the period. The shoe problem was an immense proposition and the hides were generally tanned in dugout troughs, stretched out, dressed and dried at home. The traveling shoemaker made periodic visits and one pair of shoes per annum was considered a liberal provision for grown-ups. Suffice to say the children as a rule all went barefooted summer and winter, and how remarkable they were for good health and lusty frame, and their longevity was astonishing. And this perplexing shoe-making problem lasted a long time. I recall with vivid memory the first time the family shoe-maker measured my feet for a pair of shoes. He brought along a piece of white pine board, and I stood flat-footed on the board, while he marked a line in front of my toes with his big coarse horn-handled knife. Then he marked another line behind my heel and cautioned me that I must not draw my toes together or try to crumple up the bottom of my foot. I felt quite a somebody when the new shoes came home and I had liberty to lay aside the red-morocco baby shoes to which I had been accustomed. Stumped toes in summer and cracked heels in winter were always in evidence with pupils during my school days, when the country child had a log cabin for a school room and "puncheon" benches for seats, and the farmer boys and girls of the rural neighborhood wore coarse home-fashioned clothes spun and woven in looms at home. Towels, table cloths and shirts were made in the same slow way, and even the "best-fixed" families were glad to use "thrums" for towels and soft soap

in a gourd to wash hands, and the family had a shelf for the wash basin outside for young and old.

        In the rough, country-made looms, the last ends of the warp were cut loose and the warp made slack and thin, so these rough sleazy lengths were only good for towels and wash clothes. The old timers called them "thrums," and the modern factories call them "mill ends." All the men's wear was woven at home, coats and pants, and the wool was grown on the farms and picked of cockelburrs by hand, spun and woven just as cotton and flax cloth was fashioned. Men's socks were home knitted of woolen thread (they generally went sockless in summer) and overcoats were an unknown quantity. Grandfather Swift owned and wore a blue camlet cloak, with a cape on it. It was a family treasure, perhaps it was an heirloom. Grandmother owned a woolen shawl made up North. In cold weather the women folk used the shawl if they had to go on an outside trip. But the homespun clothes were warm and enduring. My mother and grandmother had "bed-gowns," short affairs when I was a child, and the young women had chemises and bare arms for nightly repose. Home-made sun bonnets were always in evidence. A pretty white complexion was the call of that period. The young women were emphatic on this line. They were constantly busy, often with cloth making work, but they were scrupulous in care of the skin. They wore gloves for washing dishes or when washing clothes. "Tomboy" girls were sometimes encountered, but the belles of Georgia enjoyed beautiful complexions. They also laced very tight, and it was fashionable to faint on occasions. Weddings were sumptuous affairs. When my mother married there was a crowded wedding at night and three more days of festivities, with a different dress for each day. "Infairs" were popular, where the wedding spreads were transferred to the groom's home. Everything good to eat was bountifully furnished, meats in abundance, all sorts of home collections and concoctions topped off with pound-cake and syllabub. There was always a sideboard where gin, rum and peach brandy held distinction. Loaf sugar

brought from Charleston and Augusta by wagons was uniformly present. I can remember with accurate recollection those beautiful snowy cones of white sugar encased in thick bluish-green papers, that were always in request when company came, and the sideboard drinks were set forth in generous array. "Peach and honey" was in reach of everybody that prided in their home. Those primitive farmers had abounding peach orchards and bee-hives were generally in evidence more or less on Georgia farms. Everything to eat and to wear that could be grown at home was diligently cultivated and the early fortunes of Georgians were promoted by such thrift, economy and conservation of resources. In the summer time the drying of fruit was diligently pursued, and it was a poor and thriftless domicile which failed to supply itself with dried peaches, apples, cherries, pears, etc. My careful grandmother put up bushels of dried white English peaches of which she often made family preserves for home consumption in the scarcer spring-time. In this present emergency of war strenuosity the remembrance of those affluent households with always something good to cook inside, and no stint anywhere in big-house or negro cabin, appeals to me with most suggestive force. The present generation lives in paper sack supplies. They buy everything in paper sacks, from a goober-pea to a small sack of meal, when everybody knows the soil will yield a superabundance of good eatables if it is only "tickled with a hoe." I plead guilty. I am now buying peaches (July) at thirty cents a dozen, when I might be handling the fruit from that many peach trees planted on my own waste ground and with a minimum of expense in the care of them.

        My grandmother made all the starch she used, sometimes from whole wheat, oftener from wheat bran Her seven girls, big and little, delighted in dainty white muslin frocks, and laundry work for thirteen in family was always going on, and insistent in that large household. She was a rare soap maker and every pound was prepared at home with diligent care. The meat scraps and bones were utilized and cooked with

lye, drained in ash-hoppers. It made perfect soap for domestic uses. Hard soap was prepared for the big house in various ways, tempered with age and used by young and old alike. For wounds and baby usage there could be bought Castile soap, but the soaps of the multitudes were prepared at home. Except salt, iron, sugar and coffee, everything was raised by those early Georgia planters necessary for human comfort and sustenance. Coffee was scarce and high, sometimes a Sunday morning luxury, and brown sugar was generally used, the exception being the beautiful loaf sugar brought from the North. The family loom was kept going from Monday morning until Saturday night. My grandmother's home was a two-story frame dwelling also with a brick basement, largely above ground. In that brick basement there were three spacious rooms. The principal room was used for the family meals, with capacious fireplace and safes stationed around the wall. In these safes or cupboards there was storage room for all sorts of domestic supplies. The middle room was the "loom room," the third was the kitchen, with wide hearth, cranes in the chimney for hanging pots and kettles. (I never saw a cook stove until I was grown) These rooms had brick floors and were well ventilated. My grandmother had an easy chair in the dining room and the coffee and tea were made under her direction. She supervised the cooking in her kitchen and that cloth-making business went on exactly where she could overlook it. The colored women were always busy and likewise the mistress. The daughters were taught to spin and weave, to knit and sew, and to overlook the dairy, etc., as the mother directed. There was plenty of work for all because a large slave family had to be clothed from that busy loom, and the cloth was to be cut out and made into garments as soon as woven, and that large house was to be kept in "apple-pie order."

        And the abounding hospitality! My grandfather was a deacon in the Baptist church at Sandy Creek church and the Saturday and Sunday meeting days always brought friends and neighbors for at least one meal, many to spend the night. My mother said it looked

like a camp meeting when the kinspeople, the neighbors, the beaux and girl friends alighted from their horses and the crowd collected in the house. Servants carried the riding saddles into the harness room in the barn yard. The daughters prepared the Saturday big dinner while grandmother went to conference meeting. On Sunday grandmother supervised the big Sunday dinner and the girls mounted the riding horses, wore their best dresses, and went to church, and, as was the custom of the time, there was a lot of courting going on when the beaux rode home with the girls they were inclined to marry. It would take the genius of a Judge Longstreet to faithfully picture what took place on these big meeting days, after the congregation vacated the meeting house. Sometimes an unlucky swain would find himself "cut out" as a shrewd fellow would often mount his own horse and watch his rival as he led the young lady to the horse block to mount her steed, and before the latter could untie his nag and start the shrewd fellow was cantering off with the girl. In some old books that I read with delight in the long ago, it was told how the young swain would hold out his hand, the beautiful girl would place her left foot in his hand and he would swing her up to the saddle with a skilful use of his muscular strength. That was not the early Georgia style in the up country. There were always horseblocks prepared for use at church and at home and at country stores to mount from, and it accorded likewise with the modesty of the girls and the timidity of the boys. Every woman who rode horseback had a riding skirt made of substantial home weaving with a belt, but open to the hem. These riding skirts protected the dresses and were in universal use when my mother and grandmother were young. After I came along, also a horseback rider until I was seventy years old, I owned once or twice a riding habit, but I had my early training with my mother's riding skirt and side saddle. I began to ride at six years old and one of the proudest days of my life came along when my father slackened his firm hold on my pony's bridle and let me go alone to manage for myself. To this delightful

and frequent horseback exercise I attribute much of the vigor of my later life. It is essentially a delicate woman's opportunity for healthful recreation and it never lost its charm for me even when I became a grandmother, for I could canter over the fields and farm lands with perfect freedom, assured of my ability to manage my horse. I always had some sort of a horse to ride up to old age.

        This universal use of horses for men and women contributed very greatly to the raising of fine stock in the early days of Georgia, and Kentucky furnished droves of them to supply any lack at home. My father prepared barns and lots for such horse drovers and they were sometimes detained for days by high water at our house. During one long period of detention, the drover ran short of funds and the horses were "eating their heads off." When starting time came he led out a fine pony-built horse and told my father he would give him the horse for his feed bill. Pointing to my small self he said, "pony will be a treasure for your little girl. He has sense like folks, and is as gentle as they are made." So I came into ownership of dear old Pony at a very early age. Everybody could ride him in the family, including children. The negro boys learned to plow with him and he was the dependence for going to mill, with a sack of corn on his back for more than a dozen years. When I married he was still in fine appearance and doing good service, and one of the most beloved appurtenances of the family home. We owned also a twin pair of "claybank" horses at one time, a perfect match, named Pompey and Caesar, in my early girlhood days. Hitched to a barouche they sped along in famous style, flinging white manes and tails to the breeze, and it was perfectly delightful to me to see my father and mother, mounted on the "claybanks" for a horseback ride, and both were good riders in their early prime and dearly loved the sport.

        We had singing schools in our section seventy-five years ago, about the time I could be trusted to ride Pony and hold my own in a merry crowd of youngsters. It was three miles from our home to Macedonia

meeting house where the whole neighborhood gathered for education in old fashioned round and square note books, and where we closed the exercises by marching around and singing, old and young, to the bent of our inclinations. We traveled along a leafy road, crossed two or three clear branches, and occasionally the big girls and boys raced their horses. This racing woke up in Pony's brain a remembrance of his "Old Kentucky Home." Whenever I saw him lay back his shapely ears and arch his proud neck I always clutched the horn of the saddle to hold on. The race was all right for the rider and pony were in full accord in a frolic of that sort.

        In the long ago the "stars fell." My mother saw the falling. She often told me of it. Uncle William, the oldest of Grandmother's children, was to be married in November, 1833, to Miss Elizabeth Furlow. The preparation was immense in the Swift family, getting ready for the "infair." My mother, as eldest daughter, was the mainstay of her mother and they were working far into the night with some sewing for the children of that large family. There were blazing fires in the living room and candles on the sewing table. Going out on the back porch between midnight and day, for some wood to replenish the fire, my mother saw the "falling stars." The negroes down at the quarter also witnessed the wonderful sight. They rushed to the big house in a panic of fear as "the world was coming to an end." Soon everybody was up and wondering what would come next. Grandfather went out on the back porch and then discovered that no star ever rested on the ground. The star disappeared and its light went out, when it reached the dirt. He therefore quieted the frightened people but all hung about the big house until daylight came. Uncle William got married all right and raised a large and splendid family of children in Houston county. Charley Northen was the oldest grandson in that delightful household, late clerk of the Georgia Senate for a long term of years. Another of the Furlows married my mother's sister, Harriet, and Hon. Charles Furlow, their father, married, as his

second wife, my Aunt Maria Latimer, born in Maryland, and my mother married Maria's brother, Charles, my father. All these weddings and infairs came along in rapid succession. Matrimony, like the measles, is undoubtedly catching, and Grandmother must have had a strenuous time of it, in getting feather beds, quilts, bed linen, china and silver spoons for the newly wed, as their lawful marriage portion. Grandfather, with lofty impartiality set down in a book what he gave as a marriage portion to each of his children, and my mother was fond of telling us, how rich she felt when he made his first visit to her, bringing a set of mahogany furniture, the household effects before noted, along with an excellent servant woman and a fine saddle horse. When I arrived on the stage of action, Agnes, the servant woman, was ready to nurse and love the little new comer, which strong affection remained intact as long as she lived. En passant. I own two of those early silver teaspoons that were in use for my comfort eighty-two years ago, also two tablespoons, part of a set given by my father to his bride, with their united initials engraved thereon. In those days there was not much to be bought but whatever was purchased was sterling and lasting. I remember well the china plates. In the centre was painted a lovely pink rose also a delicate border. When I was uncommonly good I had my molasses on one of these precious plates, and as I sopped my biscuit across I contrived to get a continuous good look at the centre rose until the lunch was concluded. My education in art, although very limited, was early begun.

        It required a day and a half to make the annual journey by gig or barouche to Grandmother's house, one night of lodging to be secured on the trip. I might go to California or Europe nowadays with fewer thrills and expectations, and a globe trotter might envy the delight that pervaded my soul when we came in sight of the dear Grandmother's home, and when the aunties snatched me to themselves and kissed and petted me to my heart's content. Blessed are the grandchildren that can go on such annual journeys and revel as I did in such pure affection.

My Uncle John, who made his home with us for various years, carried me along to his wedding with Miss Elizabeth Paxton, when I was but a tot, and from the wedding we made a bridal tour to see the grandparents. With the "claybanks" in fine mettle and my Sunday best in wearing and with my extra promotion as a wedding attendant, I certainly was in ecstasy. When we arrived at our journey's end and saw the kinnery swarm out from piazzas and Grandmother from the basement, with her cap strings flying, and I could so easily connect her with the good things to eat that were awaiting our arrival.

        There was in Grandmother's big, clean yard, a small structure, a little house, mounted on long legs. It was called the "milk dairy," and butter and milk were kept therein for immediate use. Besides the milk and butter ready for the table supply, there were pies and cakes that could be handed out to little folks when they were hungry. This milk dairy was stationed under an enormous white oak tree, which afforded a dense and delightful shade in summer time. There was also a long bench nearby where little folks might sit and enjoy a bowl of bread and milk before sleepy-time came along. Oh! The delights of that old-fashioned milk dairy. And the odor of those pies and cakes still visits me in memory. It has hardly been a year ago since Rev. G. A. Nunnally, of Rome, an octogenarian like myself, lately deceased, and who was grandmother's nephew (sister's child) said to me: "Do you ever forget the wonderful goodies that Aunt Lucy could hand out from that milk dairy when we sat on the bench in that cool, clean-swept yard, when we were little people?" Nor do I ever forget those wonderful beaten biscuits that I ate for breakfast along with rich red ham gravy, or the dinner-time experience with a plateful of chicken and dumplings, and also a generous slice of pot peach pie, smothered with cream and sugar. And can I ever forget those enticing plum orchards where we young ones were prone to linger until my frock would be so tight in the belt that I could hardly stand it. When I see children of the present time racing to the soft-drink store,

with every nickel they possess, and cramming on the painted candy until they destroy their digestion, I wish they could see what children had to eat nearly a hundred years ago in such abundance and such truly pure foodstuff. And the watermelon time beggars description. Wagon loads found their way into a dark, cool cellar and all that were not O. K. went to the pigpen when everybody had liberty, black and white, to cut and eat until satisfied so long as the crop lasted. There were no selling places for such superabundance and if any neighbors failed in such crops the way was clear to participate without stint with the lucky ones. Home-grown wheat, home-raised meat, home-pressed lard, the whitest corn selected for meal, poultry abundant and fresh eggs collected every day, and milk, cool and sweet, with cakes of yellow sweet butter and plenty of colored help to cook it all and serve it, and partake bountifully on what was left over. I honestly believe that Georgia farmers were the best fed people on the globe in our ante-bellum days. All owing to industry and thrift.

        Large families were the rule, visiting was constant, and in times of festivity or bereavement, there were crowds of willing helpers to laugh with the happy or weep with the suffering ones. When my mother was quite small she soon became expert with a needle, and she remembered going with grandmother to neighbor Gov. Wilson Lumpkin's home to a "family sewing." She sat in a high chair near a table and "backstitched" a seam in a pair of men's breeches on that occasion and I thought it was fine when I could sit in my low chair and "backstitch" seams in a pair of breeches for Uncle Dave who was our faithful colored family fire-maker. I never saw a sewing machine until I was full grown and twenty one, but there was no lack of dainty finger work in those early homes. There is a revival of this fine hand-sewing in later days and it is good fortune to find somebody with ancient experience to show what our ante-bellum women could do on this line. Homespun dresses were not to be despised by any means. Carefully spun and woven with indigo dyes and turkey red to form a pattern,

they made admirable dress materials, washed well and endured mightily. Just think however of the toil that went with their home manufacture when the cotton had to be handpicked from the seed and every thread, warp and filling spun by willing and painstaking hands. What energy, persistence and fortitude. When my grandmother's brood of eleven circled around the big open fireplace in the evening, knitting work in hand, she understood without doubt, that she must rise early and work late, start before daylight and endure until after dark to put clothes on them and keep them with changes and well-fed for their health's sake. If cotton mills and factories were blotted out today is there sufficient fortitude, energy and persistence in the present generation to conquer a similar task?

        Grandmother raised her brood in credit with genteel manners and fine reputation and her grandchildren have sung her praises and paid glowing tribute to her industry and fidelity. None of us are clamoring for a return to the hard work and unremitting effort to make cloth by hand or do sewing with fingers or cook meals on open hearths in hot fireplaces, but I hope the day will never dawn that succeeding generations shall fail to applaud the vigorous self-sacrificing and unfailing industry of their forbears. Now-a-days there is a mania for spending. In those earlier days there was a well-formed habit of saving. Therein lies the difference between the new and the old. In the present generation we tear down spacious, convenient and comfortable church buildings and replace them with palatial edifices partaking of cathedral appearance. The struggle to compass big salaries for the pastorate has advanced into strenuosity. The meek and lowly feature has entirely vanished and unless our modern congregations are out on dress parade the mass of the people remain at home on Sundays to read the daily papers or go on an auto ride to the most attractive nearby town or city for Sabbath diversion. My mind reaches back to the old-time country meeting houses where there were religious services not oftener than once a month. Everybody

was anxious to go. It was a great time with children, negro nurses and dogs. There was always a spring of good water close about. The mothers provided biscuit and teacakes for their hungry tribes. A quilt or shawl was spread on the church floor, the babies that could sit alone were thus made comfortable, and the preacher was in no wise disturbed by their various activities when the little pitcher of fresh water was brought in and the young ones were duly watered. I remember these things with accuracy because I own the quaint little pitcher that Nurse Agnes carried along for my use and comfort, and it represents nothing similar in modern ware as to shape and coloring. It may be more than a hundred years old. I can vouch for more than eighty years myself. The women occupied one half of the building. The men and larger boys kept to their own side of the house. And the preacher was a discourser. He got but little as to pay and he expected little, but he omitted nothing as to creed and doctrine to explain his views to the congregation. Hard Shell Baptists had a large following in Middle Georgia a hundred years ago. I have seen a number of foot washings and I have always queried as to why the Saviour's attitude towards the washing of His disciples' feet should have been abandoned by any Christian organization. If His command as to sacrament administration is imperative it seems to me that foot washing is likewise an imperative example.

        Some will ask about the preacher's pay in those early times? I remember well what was told by Capt. Felton, my husband's father, speaking on this particular line of church work sixty odd years ago. There was never, he said, a discussion, as there was no salary. At one time in the history of Oglethorpe county where his father had settled (and had removed from North Carolina, at the close of the Revolutionary war) there was however something said on a certain meeting day as to some tangible remuneration for the minister's services. Being as before said a delicate subject, there was considerable hesitation until a brother who could tan leather quite satisfactorily from cattle

hides, rose up and contributed a pair of shoe soles, and another neighbor who was also skilful as a tanner, matched the proposition by offering the uppers for the preacher's footwear. There the question halted for a spell until the best shoemaker in the neighborhood agreed to get the preacher's measure and would proceed to make the shoes on the first day when it was too wet to plow. "And you young ones needn't smile," said the Captain, who was a veteran of the war of 1812, "for a man who owned such a reliable pair of shoes as preacher ---- was given was very happy in such possession." It is a good place to set down the fact that Capt. Felton was in the famous Indian battle of "Chalibbee" when he was commanding Oglethorpe county troops, serving under Gen. John Floyd. After a six-months campaign on the frontiers of western Georgia, helping to build Fort Hawkins at Macon, they went forward by regular marches until there was a line of forts and block houses extending from the Ocmulgee to the Alabama river. There was a Fort Mitchell erected on the right bank of the Chattahoochee river and where Antossee battle was fought, where the crafty Indians inflicted heavy loss on Georgia troops.

        The battle of Chalibbee was begun before daybreak and in White's Miscellainies you will find that the Indian surprise did not affect these brave Georgians, not a platoon faltered and Gen. Floyd made a valiant charge after daylight and won the battle. Capt Felton lived to be 80 years old and despite his military services in 1812 and heavy losses in Civil War, he declined to ask for a pension. He said "pensions should be for those who were maimed or wounded in service, that every man owed duties to his country in time of war or peace. Those who were spared in life and limb were fortunate and should not be a burden on the community." According to this creed and practice, he refused to apply for a pension. His survivors are in possession of a little cow-leather traveling trunk that he could strap on the rear of his saddle by aid of iron rings and in which he carried a six months outfit for heavy and exhausting army service, exposed to

Indian attacks day and night all the time he was absent. He had a change of underclothing, a pair of extra socks, some writing materials, and his razor in this small military outfit. One suit of good, strong, homemade jeans carried him through and he made no complaint as to finding himself in service to his country more than a hundred years ago. And he was an officer, better equipped and mounted than the privates.

        In his early time there were no banks or safety vaults for depositing money. Salt was one of the main articles of domestic use, and he and his wife kept an open salt barrel in the kitchen. Black and white dipped out salt, as needed for cooking, saving meat and for salting horses and cattle. This salt barrel constructed of a hollow poplar log with a well-fitted bottom, was always kept half full of salt or over. Silver money was the favorite coin of the period. Down at the bottom of the salt barrel the early Felton's kept their silver money in a sack, and although they were accustomed to make journeys to South Carolina and eastern Georgia, they also made a safe-deposit box still safer by emptying a fresh sack of salt on top of what was still in the kitchen barrel as a preparation for leaving home. No thief or burglar ever thought of finding money in a place that was never locked and covered with salt. There were no banks in those days.

        I wish I could remember all he told of the early settlers of Oglethorpe county, formerly Wilkes. He was familiar with his near neighbors, the Lumpkins, and Gov. Gilmer, Rev. George Lumpkin was his pastor at Beaverdam church and he occasionally came to see us in Cass county, now Bartow, when preacher and Captain were old men. After I married into the Felton family I gathered a lot of information as to the way Georgia pioneers lived from such reminiscences. One of the stories that delighted me was their recollections of some famous race horses that were trained and raced at Lexington, Ga. These were four-mile heats and sixteen miles to run to be declared the winner. As I recollect Col. Wade Hampton's medium-sized

gray mare was the best racer of that early time. Money was staked by men from a number of different states, and crowds attended from all eastern Georgia.

        Augusta was the great market place a hundred years ago. Cotton and wheat were waggoned long distances to be sold in Augusta. It required about five days steady driving from Lexington with strong teams to make the round trip to Augusta. The neighbors managed to go in large companies, camping out, with a supply of cooked victuals already prepared. After the produce was sold, salt, sugar and iron were purchased for the return trip. Store goods were bought in limited quantities for the women at home with an occasional bonnet and slippers. Calico was scarcer than silk velvet at the present time, and the stuff which was laid in for a coming baby's Sunday frock was called Leno, a medium white cloth, lighter than bleached domestic and heavier than plain white lawn. We preserved such a baby frock as an heir-loom made for Dr. W. H. Felton in 1823 (who died not long before he was eighty-seven). A queer little frock, low necked and with long sleeves and it ranked as something extra for quality when it was completed, about a half yard in length with a two-inch ruffle at the bottom. But it differed greatly from the cloth made in the home looms, where the cotton seed were picked out by hand before the thread was spun or woven. Everything a grown man wore as before stated was prepared at home from the cotton in the seed and the wool on the sheep's back down to the knitted suspenders and fingerless mittens.

        Nutmegs with other spices were hunted for in Augusta, brown sugar and black molasses were in demand. There were small stores in little towns and some creditable country stores also. My father had a country store where he sold pins and needles, lute string ribbon and prunella shoes on one counter and dealt out thick black molasses and kit mackerel within ten feet of the millinery. Can I ever forget the day when my Uncle John who had adventured to Charleston to buy goods and returned with a wax doll and how I could not be parted from it and how I slept with

it, ate with it in my arms and finally wrecked it by going to sleep before a great log heap fire in the living room and where the heat melted its head and spoiled its beauty for all time? Anything so rarely beautiful had never crossed my experience before. I have often wondered as to how the nude red Indians felt to see white people in accustomed dress for the first time. The change from my clumsy rag dolls to the Charleston beauty with real curls and blue eyes must have produced somewhat similar effects on the small Georgia cracker who had never seen a bought doll before in her four years of mortal life.

        We had for small silver change thrips and seven pences, value 6 1-4 cents and 12 1-2. I had a few of each that were my very own and I would have given all I was worth for a recipe to restore my doll's pristine loveliness.

        In these country stores there was large traffic in cotton and woolen hand cards, and joy without measure when cotton factories were built in Georgia and "spun thread" could be bought for the warp, because homespun warp was not easy to manage by inexpert weavers. It needed harder twist and stronger thread for warp uses, while the filling could be spun softer and with less care. We have preserved some of the store accounts of the early period. Indigo, madder, turkey red and copperas were staple goods for dye purposes and the housewives of early Georgia history went to meeting (church services) with every finger nail as blue as indigo mud would paint them. It was considered a badge of efficiency, experience and culture in cloth making. The wool dyes, made women's hands almost black with logwood and walnut leaves. Men's summer working breeches were copperas dyed and those plain men-folk were as yellow legged as our choicest breeds of chickens.

        Among the Felton neighbors a hundred years ago was a farmer and his industrious wife who spun and wove all their wearing apparel and who had manufactured enough cloth to provide her husband with two strong, good shirts. When he returned at night from the hot corn and cotton plowing and his shirt

was wet with prespiration she had always a clean, dry garment ready for she did a bit of laundry work as regularly as she washed and dried her breakfast dishes and this good woman's fame has followed her down as an extraordinary manager and capable married woman. I was impressed as to her super-excellence, because the family washing in such plain homes was done once in seven days as a rule and where children were numerous they might take off their one garment and sit in their skin on hot days until a clean shirt or frock was ready for use. In the olden times farmer boys of eight, ten, even twelve years, were provided with a summer shirt of extra length (perhaps the pattern has been retained for men's night shirts) and the youngsters had nothing to hinder their agility in athletic sports. It would be refreshing to find a chronicle of the self-made distinguished men of early Georgia who were glad to own and wear these one-piece, home-made suits when cloth was scarce and hard-work in the field a necessity for family subsistence.

        In those early days the children said "Dad" and "Mam" and as history repeats itself the petted child of 1917 is happy to call his well-groomed father "daddy." Fifty years ago it was a mark of very common raising to say daddy and mammy. Virginia and North Carolina children said "Paw and Maw." The Hugenot or French strains said Pere and Mere, while another breed of folks in upper Georgia said "Pap and Mam." The most of well-raised folks said Par and Mar.

        But the folk raised in that early period of Georgia's history were brought up to wait on their elders and reverence for the aged was the habit inculcated early in their childhood. Old people then and now were apt to be garrulous and sometimes tiresome with their advice and platitudes, but the neglect of aged grandparents, common in many sections today, was of rare occurrence in the homes of the pioneers of our Southern country.

        The first wedding I ever attended was in 1840. My baby sister had very lately arrived, but the good

neighbors insisted that my father and myself (barely five years old) should be there. Black Mammy had me in charge, also the brass candlesticks and silver spoons that were loaned for the big gathering. Mammy belonged to the F. F. V. colored, in old Virginia. She always fixed her head dress turban shape with a big white neckerchief around her neck and shoulders and a big white apron about her capacious self. Mammy was an expert on big table arrangements. There was a girl in the neighbor's family with whom I had slight acquaintance but the wedding festivities accelerated our friendship. I saw the bride and groom walk out to be married and the latter had been so unfortunate as to split his big toe with an awkward axe, so his unlucky foot was outside the upper part of his shoe in a white store stocking. The rest of the time I devoted to seeing the people eat, tablefulls giving way to new comers as fast as they could be served. My new girl friend agreed with me that it was tedious waiting. Finally she made her way between crowds and found that a quantity of plates had been emptied into a capacious tin pan under a side table. I questioned the advisability of going under that table cloth and helping ourselves as one pig helps another. I did go, and I did partake, and when I was missing it was black Mammy who discovered the lost child in her ignoble plight. Time has never quite erased the feeling that possessed me when my escapade was narrated at my mother's bedside on our return. To start out as I had done with my best bib and tucker, traveling in fine style with a pair of matched horses and a driver, with the comfortable feeling that I was going to a big wedding, and then to be brought home in some sort of disgrace, because I ate under a table, out of a scrap bucket, with all the indignation that Mammy was capable of expressing by words and looks and gestures, I was given a lesson as to table manners and wedding feasts that always remained with me. So far as I know nobody but Mammy ever suffered stifling mortification about it, nevertheless the memory of it has lasted nearly fourscore years with the delinquent.

        The first funeral I ever attended still haunts my memory. The dead wife and mother left a family of small children, two of them my school mates. There was a poor little baby, two months old, and the children were left in deep sorrow and gloom.

        The dead woman and my mother had been girlhood friends. I loved her like I loved my kin, and I almost cried myself sick with those lonely children who came to us to get relief from the sad home. There were no hearses in those days. Neighbors took hold of coffin handles and carried the coffin to the grave yard. The preacher took the hand of one of my sobbing school mates and walked behind the coffin. The snow was falling and the gloom of the whole business was almost too much for us all.

        The coffin was made in the town. I saw the people tack on the outside black cloth and the inside white linings. It filled me with an awful dread that my mother might die, too. I was worked up into a sort of hysteria. When the clods fell on the coffin I could scarcely repress a shriek. Little children can suffer intense agony under similar conditions.

        I do not recall any particular mourning garments. In rural districts death always caught the people at a disadvantage. Home-made coffins were clumsy. Shrouds were made around the dead body. Neighbors had to dig the graves and do all things else, as there were no bought things to help along. Crowds could be had to sit up with the dead. Silver coins were laid on eyelids to hold them down. When a person got so low down in reputation that he deserved the meanest that could be said, you would hear "He is mean enough to steal the silver on a dead man's eyes." Graves had to be made nearby unless there was a meeting house within convenient distance. People were generally buried on their own land and enclosed like a tiny garden, with wooden palings.

        I recall an incident that stays with me. Occasionally my mother helped in the store, in push times. I was in evidence too. One day a lady with several children came and bought big bundles. When she left I found my mother crying and to pacify me she told the

reason. The customer had a dreadful cancer and felt she was going to die. She desired to prepare a good supply of children's clothing (there were no such things to be bought) before the crisis came. Just before she started home, in her carryall a sort of conveyance in general use, she went with my mother into the back room of the store and showed her bosom with the cruel ravages made in her breast. And those children were so happy and knew so little about the heroism of their mother who faced death like a martyr.

        The first railroad in Georgia coming from Augusta and toward us in northwestern sections created much excitement. This excitement became intense when the legislature passed a bill to construct another railroad starting from our section going to the Tennessee line, with State's money, and to connect with the other road known as the Georgia railroad, at Marthasville.

        The civil engineer of the Georgia road made his headquarters at our home off and on for perhaps eighteen months. The progress of both undertakings was a topic of daily conversation where I could wonder and also listen. When the state railroad was able to lay down rails from Atlanta, then known as Marthasville, to Marietta, twenty miles, the engine, freight car and passenger coach were hauled from near Augusta by mules, over the stage line, and the wonderful new cars were halted in the big road in front of my home. They had already come over one hundred and fifty miles when I saw the three before named.

        It was decided to celebrate the opening of the state road by an excursion to Marietta from Marthasville with a big ball at the latter place and considerable speech-making from the politicians. It was the first adventure of that sort in the Southern States and broke the ice for internal public improvements. My parents were invited by the beloved civil engineers. I was included, a tot of seven years, and I could now paint scenes, if I was an artist, with distinct remembrance of what I saw on that great trip.

        The future Capitol of Georgia then had one building, the rough plank depot, with a shed room equipped

with a fireplace where all sorts of good liquor could be bought, etc.

        It was a cold day in the late fall and my father and mother, with my small self, reachtd Thompson's Hotel in Decatur, where the excursionists assembled and where a fine dinner was provided. It was a six-mile drive to Marthasville and conveyances were in demand. We were delighted when Maria Gertrude Kyle took a seat in our barouche on my mother's invitation, and she was well known as authoress and poetess, in our few Georgia papers. She had lately married and her new clothes interested me, and I was even more interested to see her dance that night in some of the new sort of dances, different from the Virginia Reel and cotillions that I had been accustomed to, in our own home, by tourists who traveled from Savannah and Augusta to Nashville, Tenn., and regions beyond, either in a stage coach or private carriages. The supper was handed to us as the people sat on benches around the Marietta ball room. Some people had syllabub strong with Maderia wine, but I had a wine glass of jelly and a spoon with which to dip it out.

        I soon had enough of the frolic and was put to sleep in a bed, already a foot deep with shawls, capes and bonnets. The joyful folks danced all night. There were relays of fiddlers to keep the tunes going. I remember I thought I had been awake all the time because the music and the calling of dance figures and the dancers' feet seemed to be going on until daylight in the morning.

        The trip homeward was as dull as the going had been hilarious, but I have always taken satisfaction in the thought that I was a trip passenger on the very first passenger train that ever left the Union Depot in the present city of Atlanta. Judge Warner, the grandfather of Judge Warner Hill, of Supreme Court, was on board with his little daughter, now Mrs. Hill. So far as we know she and I are the only two known to be living, and fellow travelers on that momentous occasion when a railroad was adventuring into Cherokee Georgia where the Cherokee Indians had been living only ten years before. A Mr. William Longstreet had

invented a steamboat before that time and should share honors with the so-called inventor who got the credit. My father used to sing for me the following ditty based on Mr. Billy Longstreet's new fad.

                        Billy boy, Billy boy, can you steer the ship to land?
                        Billy boy, Billy boy, can you steer the ship to land?
                        Yes, I can steer the ship to land
                        Without a rudder in my hand.

                        Billy boy, Billy boy, can you row that boat ashore?
                        Billy boy, Billy boy, can you row that boat ashore?
                        Yes, I can row that boat ashore
                        Without a paddle or an oar.

        I remember also a Maryland corn-shucking song that my father would sing to me in my baby days. He came from his native state when a small boy, but he brought to Georgia many songs that delighted me. One of the many still remains. Among the Maryland chronicles of wills and deeds, mention is seen of the Notleys. The song runs thus:

                        "Mighty wedding over the River (Potomac)
                        Hoosen Johnny - Hoosay!
                        Notley Dutton courts the widow.
                        Hoosen Johnny - Hoosay."

        These Marylanders and Virginians had corn-shuckings. They were almost universal in Georgia in my childhood. The ripened corn was hauled to the barn lot and heaped on the ground outside the crib. Word was sent around that so and so would have a corn-shucking on a certain night. White farmers came with their colored men. A great supper was prepared for all who came - substantials - plenty of it. In the big house there was a bountiful table, in the kitchen another table just as plentiful for the blacks. It was a big time for everybody. Before the daylight came the shucked corn was safely housed. Everybody had a good time and "all went home in the morning."

        Those corn-shucking melodies are yet twittering in my recollection, and when my own babies came along

in the early days, for my first born arrived when I was only nineteen, I found myself singing "Papa's Corn Songs" that he brought along from his old Potomac home.

        And I must not forget the "quiltings." Fashionables would call them "quilting bees," but they were popular gatherings. The women of the neighborhood were delighted to entertain. Each guest brought along her own thimble, maybe a needle or so; as needles were scarce and high. Along about midday the husbands began to come, some afoot, others on horseback. And the dinner, was a spread that tested the skill and industry of the hostess to be sure. The "tables groaned" with everything that the mistress and her colored women could prepare. After dinner was over the farmers returned to their work and the women finished the quilt, even to binding the edges in first class style. And there were famous quilters abroad in the land in those industrious days.

        I had almost forgotten to say that when a farmer was very sick and unable to work and watch his crop his neighbors would go over on a day agreed upon, with all their forces, plow hands, horses and plows and before dark came the crop was in good order.

        A couple of fine Georgia gentlemen whose grandparents were my father's early neighbors, told me the following story about two years ago. The grandfather became ill and died - left a widow and a house full of children. There were slaves but nobody to direct but the anxious woman who had this large family, black and white, to provide for. Everybody had to fence the cultivated land. Old-fashioned worm fences were all they had. The widow could not get the "worm of the fence" laid straight. My father heard about it and early one morning he went over (about a mile) and carried every field hand he had, and he made a straight fence out of a crooked one before nightfall. When she sold her crop he kept the matter straight for her, whenever she needed advice she knew where to go to find a willing helper.

        After eighty years or more had passed the grandchildren of the widow told me of the esteem and affection

that lasted with their family when all the actors were dead and largely forgotten. All along down the line they said they were told of the "best neighbor Grandmother ever had." These fine, elegant Georgians requested the privilege of carrying my sister and myself on a visit to our birth place in an automobile. Also to the girlhood home where both of us had been married, neither of which I had seen since the Civil War was over. It was a day of days for us. What they knew and could tell was largely tradition and hearsay, but what we knew and felt, words cannot fitly express. The river plantation passed away from us in my father's lifetime. We had, therefore, no financial interest in it. It had changed hands several times within the half century. It had gone down in decay but it was a thrilling place for two aged women who had been happy, active girls when we called it "home."

        Somebody sent me the following circular before it passed into the present owner's hands. As it gives me kind mention, I wish my descendants to know of the occurrence. In our day we had crowds of company, music, good living, all the things that belonged to a comfortable country home in upper Georgia.

"BIG AUCTION SALE

of Farming Lands, at Court House in Decatur, on Wednesday, September 15, at noon.

        "Panola Plantation to be Subdivided and Sold.

        "One of the finest plantations in DeKalb County, the famous Panola Plantation, will be divided into eleven farms by the enterprising Real Estate firm of H. F. Sanders and Shelby Smith, of Atlanta, and sold at public outcry to the highest bidder at the Court House in Decatur, on Wednesday, September 15, at twelve o'clock, noon. The plantation contains 725 acres. It lies on South River, fifteen miles east from Atlanta, ten miles from Decatur, five miles from Lithonia, and seven miles from Ellenwood.

        "Panola Plantation, from our best information, was the childhood home of Mrs. W. H. Felton, whom all Georgians love and honor. Maj. Latimer, the father of Mrs. Felton, built the fine colonial home on this place. The body of the house is in a fine state of preservation.

        "Mr. R. M. Clark was the next owner of this place. He supervised the Oglethorpe Manufacturing Company, which built

a cotton mill there. This plant was burned several years ago. In connection with his milling interests, Mr. Clark maintained on this plantation a very fine stock farm, raising in great abundance, all kinds of provender, such as wheat, corn, oats, hay, etc. In addition to the cultivated lands, he had very fine pastures.

        "There are several public roads that converge at this place, making it a good point for a public store. There was at one time a store and post office there.

        "This plantation was later bought by Col. Milton Candler, and afterwards sold to the present owners.

        "It will be seen from the above, that this plantation is historical.

        "These eleven tracts as subdivided, for quality of land, value of timber, convenience of location, and many other points, have never been equalled at any auction sale in DeKalb county."

        Among the notable family occasions that I recall was the wedding of our miller, colored, and the housemaid, that would doubtless interest the northern people as a feature in Southern country life before the war. Ben was quite a catch in his early manhood, and Minerva was one of the three colored girls given my mother by her father. She generally journeyed with the family to Grandmother's home when we children were small, as my sister's nurse. She was not a field hand but remained in the big house as house maid. The match was of prominence therefore.

        They were to be given a house of their own, a plain cabin, but close and comfortable. Ben had a new suit of clothes for a bridal present. The bride got her outfit from we girls. There was a preacher to marry them and a good supper for the occasion. There were a happy couple, had a family of sprightly children and were a part of my sister's allotment after she married and had her own home. The surrender turned everything upside down and Ben went back to the old Panola home and secured a position as miller. As the years rolled on Ben lost his wife and his boys married and he was lonely in his old age. He came back to his "Mis' Mary" and she gave him a house to live in, coal to burn, clothes to wear, was fed from her table at every meal and he swept the sidewalks and did errands for my sister as well as he could. After he had passed eighty years he was often infirm, sick at

times. One of his sons was comfortably fixed and sister advised the old negro to go there to be properly waited on. She gave him the money to get there. Inside of two days Ben turned up again with nothing to say beyond "Mis' Mary I've come back." When he died "Miss Mary" furnished the coffin and burial clothes and had been his best friend in his extreme poverty and weight of years, when he was too infirm to help himself. He died two years ago.

        Once I was "candle-holder" at a big negro wedding at Grandmother's home. The girl was a housemaid but the groom lived several miles away and came to his wife's home every Saturday night to stay until Monday morning daylight. The patrol system was in force throughout the South. Colored men going to the wife's house were given a "pass" and it was a wise precaution. Slaves were too valuable to allow one of them to be beaten because he did not have a "pass." The colored boy came one night after supper to "ask for the girl," and I was present at the asking. I was very fond of the bride-to-be, and I became a close listener. There seemed to be a sort of matrimonial catechism for such occasions. "Will you treat your wife decent, if I allow you to marry her?" "Will you act the dog and beat my good darky when you get mad with her?" He gladly answered "no." "Now I expect you to behave yourself if you come here to live. It's my house you will live in with your wife but you are welcome if you behave yourself."

        As a wind-up Grandfather said "Now, Jim, my own colored men that go to the wife's house, always cut up plenty of firewood for house and kitchen before they start on Saturday afternoons. Mind you, now, if you take any of their wood and are too lazy to go to the woodpile to make your wife a good fire by your own labor, I'm as certain to thrash you as I find it out, and they will be sure to tell me." The crowd that attended the wedding had to be entertained out of doors for the ceremony. No cabin could give them standing room. As "chief cook and bottle washer," or rather director of arrangements, I held the candle for the colored preacher to read the marriage pledges. He

had a newspaper clipping in his hand and I saw it was upside down, but it served to raise a laugh when my part of the performance was over, and I repeated to Grandfather what I saw and heard as an official at the marriage. And I was so welcome for I was Miss Ann's oldest little gal, and I was to tell about it when I reached my own home, and you may be sure I was a faithful narrator to a very eager set of people while I was doing it.

RAILROADS, SCHOOLS, SCHOOL TEACHERS,
AND REVIVALS.

        My father's early plantation was twenty miles from Covington, Newton County, Ga., and ten miles from Decatur, and situated on the main highway coming down from Nashville, Ten