Pioneer Families
of Henderson County TN


THE SMALL FAMILY HISTORY

Written by Alfred Franklin Small
Son of John Wesley and Sarah Ann Margaret (Lovell) Small
Grandson of Andrew Jackson and Mary (Seago) Small
Great Grandson of Daniel and Mary (Hutchings) Small
Contributed by William L. Altom

Photo on "Henderson County Tennessee Connections" by Brenda Fidler
Photo contributed by Opal (Altom) Jarrett (Photo about 1922)
From Left: Opal Altom Jarrett, next are children of Tom Small. Others from left: Gertrude Small, Pat Small, Winnie Small,
Delia Derryberry Small, Cancis Small, Ada Small, Tom Small, Luther Small, Palie Small and Lally Small.

- My Beginning -

In the beginning - 1 was created in an auspicious time. It was 25 years ago. That was a year eventful in the world. Historians have failed to chronicle some of the real great events and, I suppose, for that reason, you have not seen my name in the categories of the great. In those days men lived and worked and builder and enjoyed, directly the fruits of their own labor from their own hands. Not so much today. And the time is swiftly passing to the time when we may enjoy, only, the work of other hands. 25 years ago, men seemed to be living, more to enjoy the association of others living. 25 years ago seems to have been a real human time. It seems to have been a time when ancient greed had faded out and a lull before modern greed should (appear).

Out of all this new world's millions, so few were dependent. None asked for a better thing than to have a chance to take care of himself and his. They were turned loose in nature's plenty of America to make their way, to survive or perish on their own source. Yes, "A man is a man for a that and a that.

Certainly, 25 years ago was eventful of great things. And here I came to weave and wiggle my way, to find my place in the realm of humanity. Just one of the earth's millions coming forth as a flower, only to be cut down and wither away. But I came and am here for "a that and a that" on the way to my faraway home. Yes, I loosed many silver cords. I broke many golden bowls. The way was cleared for my performance and I must have made a hit, for I had a comeback at everything. No sooner that one thing was destroyed, than here came another to be destroyed. Isn't that in line with the run of humanity?

Seldom great men write their own histories. Is this history? Well, I might say that common men seldom write their own histories. Now, have I you guessing whose doing this? It is something and it's true as can be. Only experiences and observations. All I am saying about the time, 25 years ago, is not guess work, for I was there. I know. And besides, evidence of so many tried and true and so many natural, permanent things bear me testimony. 25 years ago lived the best woman in all the world since the mother of Jesus. 25 years ago lived the best man in the world since the Divine. That is what I thought of my mother and father.

At this notable date, auspicious and famed,
He that cometh no one knew till named,
Nor who nor when could it be known,
Till the spirit of God in him was shown.

Eventful, of course and much anticipation,
Signaled greetings from all creation,
For time had come and nature pleaded,
To fill a place with a man, badly needed.

In this memorable year the earth was awaking,
For the greatness of life then in the making.
The why and the wherefore was not for me to say,
So, 25 years ago, I was born one day.

Centuries, Eighteen of them had come and gone,
Most all creation still intact, but man, alone,
Going forth to replenish the earth,
Living and growing and making birth.

Living at the peak of the world's civilization,
Assured and secured in the world's greatest nation,
Freedom proclaimed in the realm of men,
An auspicious time for life to begin.

Everything at its best, tho not known to me,
Till I could live long enough to see,
Written on the lintels of everything seen,
The beauty and glory of the world supreme.

Greater, far, than all mankind could give,
That he who would, might look and live.
That was the world as I found it to be,
Great and good and all for me

When I came.

Now, Lord, all praise to Thee I was born in peace,
Thy footstool has welcomed me here,
Give me to live, and with Thy grace,
See even a better world with Thee up there.
-Bitty-

-CHUBBY AGE-

I was first discovered on the 17th of December, 1875, about two miles east of Hare's Mill (Alberton) in Henderson County, Tennessee. At that time I was very young and inexperienced. I had just jumped into the big world and knew very little of what it was all about. I was a prospector in about the most inviting environment tho, that could be thought of, or that a newcomer had ever had. I say it was a big world, beautiful and abundant. My sphere, tho extremely limited, seemed boundless, and only the sky and the horizons the only visible barriers. But, serpent-like, I had to start out, crawling on my belly. It took a fellow a long time to investigate and inspect such a big world in that style. I do not remember when I first pulled myself up to walk, but I do remember my mother carrying me over the bad places and then putting me down to try it alone over the good places. There was no panic or depression, but my adventures were somewhat limited for several years. Then quite a variety of enterprises, industrialettes and opportunities were before me. I followed my older brother and sisters into forbidden paths, sometimes with a ladened diaper almost dragging my tracks out.

Yes, I remember that. About the first real big thing I recall of my ventures, was riding a broom handle for a stick horse. Some- how dolls didn't appeal to me, and I have bitten off more than one doll's head and left the mutilated boys on my trail. Then, of course, I had to reckon with my sisters. And there was my first victory in diplomacy. Then I found myself with a real stick horse, a string on it for a bridal, and the right-of-way was mine, for I was off to town. I had a stick horse that Pa trimmed out of one of those straight slick sour woods, and named him Charley for me. I thought as much of old Charley and rode him with as much pomp and safety as any grown-ups did of their real Dobbins. By this time, Brother Luther, who discovered America about a year later than i, was right along with me. I always felt better, safer and surer after Luther joined my ranks. Then Pa and Brother Tom made us a little wagon. The wheels were sawed out of a blackgum tree. We called it a truck-wagon. I suppose we had more fun and more genuine pleasure with that truck-wagon than with anything of all the play things we ever had. We would haul everything on it, sand and gravel, logs, bales of cotton and tons of corn - in our imaginations. I recall - once I was pulling the truck-wagon along and Luther was clipping along on his stick horse and we met Pa. Luther was having trouble with his bridal. So he said to Pa - "Pa, will you leather-string my horse?" He meant to give him a leather bridal such as were used on real horses. I remember Pa laughing in his sieve.

We didn't have any brightly painted factory-made toys such as Santa Claus brings these days. All the toys we had were what we made. But we had the opportunity and privilege to roam the most beautiful and unlimited forests, to gather the prettiest and sweetest of nature, And build our own toys, tools and castles.

-The Kid-

When we were big enough to climb, we scaled the saplings like a bear and, by weaving and swaying back and forth in the tops of those saplings, would pass from one to another for hundreds of yards without touching the ground. That was an accomplishment in sport that seemed to be our own discovery. In my mind, I can see, yet, those large trees sprawled out there in the forest with their streaming long limbs for us to ride on. That was better than anybody's factory-made see Saw.

That is touching, very lightly, the immensity of nature's own useful wonders and beauties, in the country where I made my debut. Youthful, as well as adult hearts, could not wish for better environment. Far out in the country of forest, flowers and fragrance, I was free to grow and learn and use to my heart's content. Plain, simple and plentiful as they were, there was something new every day. I was not looking for it all along, but, when I think of it, that has been my experience all my life, something new every day. Well, I have put twenty five years behind me to this date, each of which gave me three hundred-sixty five days to live, observe, learn, use, and enjoy. Retracing again, my steps in Henderson County, Tennessee—I came on the scene, it seems, when style was somewhat stabilized. Changes were few and far between. At times, it seemed they would never come. My own wearing apparel, which was largely the prevailing custom of the country, was among the first things I sought to fashion. The home style for little boys then was to go in their shirt tails. This style, really, might have been brief, but my memory is, that, it took a long, long time to live thru it.

Some of the more fortunate youngsters were wearing breeches and body by the time they got big enough to go to school. Breeches and body was a most substantial diversion in styles. It was the connecting link of the style between long tailed shirts and real coat and breeches. I thing, from the day I could stand alone, till long after I started to school, I went in my shirt tail. There were just a few of my acquaintances that had real suits all the time. You know, it has always been, that a certain few had luxuries. So a few skipt going in their shirt tails and even the breeches and body. I must have worn out many, many long tailed shirts before I was allowed to discard them, for I remember well how troublesome it was to keep myself in order when company came. But they were real convenient at times. And how easy it was to go to bed. Didn't even have to undress, As I made my round and round thru the woods, or wherever, I could sometimes feel the jerk and hear the crack of my tail at corners and crooks in the path, especially if I was scared or in a hurry. I finally got to the point where it was really embarrassing in my shirt tail, for, in windy times no telling just how that shirt was going to behave. I remember that once upon a time, there was going to be an extra function in the community. Of course, I was invited. I had visions of what a glorious time there would be that day with my presence. But every time I got enthused in anticipations, my feathers would fall when I calmed down to think of the fact that, if I go, I'd have to go in my shirt tail. But I was thinking. I had already presented my desires for some breeches and body. Ma seemed to be in the notion, but, of course, Pa had to do the buying. Well, the only answer I got was a gentle reminder that I should have them before long. In my anxiety, I thought I might help things along. So, I induced Luther to join me in the enterprise. We went out in the woods and took the axe along. We sat down on a log and talked it all over, pro and con, and decided that, if we could get rid of our shirts, we would, automatically or mysteriously, some way, get some of the new styles. So we took off our shirts, and chopped them to pieces on the log. Then went back to the house to see about the results. And are you guessing what the results were? Omph - that flogging was a plenty. Even a shirt would have been some help.

Well, we were about cured. I should have taken a double whipping and relieved Luther, but I didn't. I induced him into that mischief and he had to suffer the same as I for it. But it wasn't long till we got the breeches and body. They were mighty fine in cold weather but a little bothersome disrobing when in a hurry. I was nearly grown when I got my first shure-enough coat and breeches. I had my first jacket with the first suit I bought after I came to Texas. I think it was soon after this that they were called vests and about that time, breeches were called pants.

Possibly, my first view, in life, of things outside the house, was when they were covered with snow for my advent was during the month of white Christmas. From that time on up till I was big enough to do chores we had to stay pretty close in during the winters. While I wore breeches and body I grew and learned to ride horses, cut sprouts, pile brush and to do most all work of which I was capable. On off days, I made trucks, sleds, whips, etc. A present day boy who wants a toy would not think of taking his axe and saw and start for the woods to find a suitable black gum tree, out of which to saw off wheels for a little wagon and to find a straight hickory sapling out of which to hue the axles, tongue, etc. Well that is what we did in the country where we lived when I was a boy. Pa owned 700 acres of that country which gave me a fine outlet for my business. I always considered myself in some kind of business. Some people don't look on a child as being anything but a child, or as having anything. Just a cry-baby and then just a mischiefous kid till he is grown. I remember riding in my mother's lap on the side saddle, to Grand Pa's once- I rode behind her going back. Grand Mother and all said to me that I was a fine brave boy. That was when I learned what brave meant. It meant to do something bigger. It made me feel as if I was somebody and I have actually tried ever since to make that stick. I don't think I ever went to Grand Pa's and left there without a much cherished gift. It might have been only a valueless paper box, a marble, a streeked smoked sourwood stick, but I cherished it and kept it. It was mine. As I came on up the line, I always appreciated the little things for little things were all I could get. And, after all, I don't know but that everyone is better off if he never has but the little things. My territory, its true, was very large, but it was full and little things. When I was barely old enough to be out alone, I found myself beholding the greatness of it, and looking for some little thing I might acquire or accomplish and call it my own. Brother Tom, older than I, was some pumpkin. He had fine clothes, even a jacket. He had a horse and saddle. He went with the girls and had perfume on his handkerchief. He was permitted to take the gun and go hunting. Sometimes he would let me go with him to turn the squirrels. Some times he would rest his gun on my shoulder to get a good bead on the squirrel. Tom's catch in hunting went a long way in furnishing our table with variety in meats. When he killed a fox-squirrel, we would tan the skin to make shoestrings. They were dandies.

I became famous as a hero. One night I went with Tom Possum hunting. We went a couple of miles into the big forest. Bob, the dog, treed something up a big tree. It was very dark down near the earth among the trees and bushes, but, looking up to the top of the tall tree, with the clear sky above, we could see two coons jam up in the top of that tree. There was no way to get those coons except to cut the tree. We had no axe and no gun, but it was unthinkable that we should leave those coons and not even try to get them. Tom was not accustomed to giving up. He studied a moment and said to me"Son, would you be afraid to stay here and mind this coon tree while I go for and axe?" I was already shaking, but managed to say -

"Sure I'm not afraid". The darkness prevented Tom's detection of my extreme fear, and he started for the axe. As he walked away, I wished I hadn't said it. Ail the bigness I had ever felt seemed to have left me. I felt less and less, till I felt like nothing. As Tom vanished out of hearing, I backed myself up against that tree and was doing pretty well as long as Bob stayed with me, but he, apparently thinking it impossible to get the coons from the top of that big tree, pulled out and followed Tom. I didn't say a word to him for fear Tom might hear me and think I was getting scared. But as they went and the sound of their walking thru the leaves and bushes grew fainter and fainter, I would have given anything that very moment if Tom would come back. He didn't. He was bent on capturing those coons and on he went to get the axe. I didn't know where he was going, but he did. I don't know how far it was, but it seemed ages before I heard him coming back. I stuck to that tree and don't know whether I was breathing or not. Neither do I know whether the coons were still up there or not when Tom holloed and expected an answer from me to guide him to find his way back. But I was afraid to open my mouth. I was as silent as death. I held my breath for fear of making a noise. Tom came nearer and holloed again. This time, he was near enough to give me some courage. So, I yelled as big and loud as if I was the bravest man in the whole country. Tom was soon there, and then my blood resumed circulation. I felt good once more, and Tom bragged on me and said I was a brave little hero for staying away over there in the dark forest and keeping those coons up that tree. Had I kept them up there? I didn't know. Tom cut that big tree all by himself in the dark and when it fell, I was holding Bob so it would not fall on him. As it neared the ground, I let Bob go and he caught both of those coons there in the dark before I knew what was happening. Thus is the story of how we caught two coons. Torn didn't take any praise to himself for that night's venture. He did it all, but I was the hero. And Tom just kept heaping praise on me until my fame was known in all parts around. But those two coons could have climbed down that tree, used me for a jump-off, and then carried me away with them, thinking they had found a dead one. We skinned the coons, tanned the hides and tacked them up on the smokehouse to dry, and every one seeing them had comments of me as the hero. This gave me a big send-off. I was getting to be quite an important fellow. Things were looking good and business picking up.

-SCHOOL-

I heard them talking of school. I had no idea what it was like or what it was for. But I saw that every one bigger than I, was going to school. Of course, I wanted to go. I bided my time till the opportunity came. I already knew my ABC's. I was ready for advancement. I begged to go. Pa bought me a blue back speller, a slate and pencil and intended to present them to me some morning as a surprise. Of course, I didn't know it, but I had caught a little whiff of a rumor and was really expecting to get to go soon. So, one morning while I was out in the corn crib, shucking corn, all alone, Luther came running to tell me I could go to school. Without a word, a sign, a book or anything, I leapt out of that corn crib, and for fear I might be seen and that they might change their minds, I darted into the woods and ran thru the woods all the way to the Lovell School House which was only about two miles away. Uncle Albert Lovell was the teacher. He asked why I had been running and where my book, slate and pencil. I didn't know what to say - only that I had come to school. A little later my sister came and brought my blue back speller, slate and pencil. Then I was equipt and rearing to go.

Book time came and every one rushed into his seat and, presently, all were down in deep study. So was I. I sized up everything and went over my ABC's and then was ready for something else. Eph Rush, an acquaintance, who could not talk plain, sat, all humpt over on the bench next in front of me, his shirt drawn tight. It was too tempting. Like a clap of thunder out of a still cloud, the silence was broken. Something had happened. Eph let out a yell that alarmed the whole house. Yes, something had happened. I had punctured his rear with a pin. I didn't do it tho, for any notoriety at all. It was only to satisfy the temptation. It was big fun and every one joined me in the laugh. But not a single one ever contributed their sympathy when Uncle Albert took both of my hands in his left, and with a 4 foot hickory in his right, proceeded to strike me ungently. That was my introduction. Well, if that was school, I just as soon be back in the corn crib shucking corn. But all was quiet the rest of the day. The older pupils were not much disturbed, they seemed to be accustomed to such occurrences. I formed the acquaintance of Jim Carrington who sat next to me on the split log bench. Me and Jim caused many troubles, criticisms and applause's. We were so intimately associated and connected in so much mischief that we both got a whipping every time either of us violated a rule. I attended school there a short time, each, under Uncle Albert Lovell, Uncle Dave Lovell, Mrs. Dodd, Link Davis and John Cruse, and I suppose I must have gotten at least a dozen whippings from each of them. One memorable event was while John Cruse was teacher. He had to be absent one day and got Jim Lovell to teach for him that day. Jim was a good fellow and a good sub, and all went well that day for awhile. Then pandemonium reigned. During the stillness of study, me and Jim decided it was about time for a spree. It just wouldn't do for the whole day to go by without some entertainment. There was only one door in the house and the teacher sat near it. So Jim jumped out thru one window and I thru another. The house -sprang to its feet to see what was happening. We played hide and seek with the teacher around the house for a while, and when he called for some of the larger boys to help him, we took to the road that led off toward Bill Lewis' and the teacher after us. It was summer time and we were barefooted. We outran him so badly, he soon turned back. We stayed out till about time for school to close, then went back and made faces at the new teacher, which, of course, caused a continual disturbance in the house. This spoiled the good day that had started off so serenely. Next morning the regular teacher was there, and our case was the first on the docket. Without council or witnesses or a trial, we got ours. It was nothing unusual, of course, just another day, and we were ready for something else. But something new turned up every day. If it didn't we turned it up. Notwithstanding all the fun and all the mischief, I learned to spell, read, write and figure all from the blue back speller, the only book I had. It was fun for me to start at the foot and spell my way to the head of the spelling class. I could do that about as quickly as any one in school. I had so many head marks I couldn't keep up with them. I kept Pa posted as to these head marks etc, but I didn't tell him of all my activities at school. If I had, part of them would have been duplicated.

When Friday evenings came, I could sing out Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as perfectly as anybody. We were very cautiously drilled in public speaking. The first order was to bow. Without the bow, any one was a complete failure. All kinds of bows were forthcoming. Some tasteful, some timely, some straight and some crooked. On one occasion Uncle Fuqua Lovell was called on to perform. He was one of the leaders in school. Usually, what Fuqua did, was regarded as an example. This time, when his name was called out for him to perform, he promptly responded, all attired in his fashionable shirt tail, marched to the front, bowed his head very low as if to introduce a new trick in bowing and proceeded to flip a complete summersault, regardless of whether his shirt clave to his limbs or not. Did he have applause? Well - he did it so gracefully and everything resumed its place and immediately, he stood erect and showed his mastery of his subject, bringing down such continuous roar of applause that the teacher forgot all about his duty as master of ceremonies. Some fellows, you know, can do most anything and most any way and get by with it. Fuqua was one of those fellows. I had a mighty good idea what would have happened to me if I had played that role. It seemed that I couldn't do anything any more without getting a lickin. I got so, many and with such regularity, that I felt entirely out of place if a day passed that I didn't get one. Every known device was used on me and Jim- but it was like the Doctor's sweet pills -had little effect. There was a writing desk made high on the wall so several could stand and write. One day when we had company in school, me and Jim were apprehended as suspects of some violated rule. Well- when anything of that character happened they didn't look any further than me and Jim. We were just jerked up and attended to without investigation. But on this occasion, the teacher decided on a diversion of procedure, and gave us a suspended sentence. We were placed on top of that writing desk with our backs to each other and the seats of our breeches and bodies pinned together. We were suspended about half way between the floor and ceiling, and couldn't do a thing. We were afraid to move, that we might fall. And the desk was none too substantial. There we posed for an hour. Finally the desk began to give way.

We jumped and both fell in a pile on the floor. It was quite a scramble but no one was hurt. It was fun for some and fright for others, but that's that. The blue back speller was my course of study but I majored in mischief. (They call it Physical Ed out here in Texas.) When I quit school at the Lovell School House, I boasted myself of spelling everything in that book from "Oiver to civer." in the order in which it came without opening the book. And that was something to be talked bout. The arrangement of that old book from ABC's to the pictures, is pictured in my mind like a winding, mountainous country road. The ABC's and scattered letters at the front like so many lateral paths uniting at the foot of a mountain to form, in terrace style, a steadily increasing volume of letters that make up the gradually larger and more difficult columns of words from AB's to incomprehensibility. And don't you doubt that it was music to hear the whole school spelling, aloud, preparing their respective lessons all the way thru the book. There could be heard all parts from bass to tenor as they scaled up via Baker, Horseback, Banishment, Cessation, Immateriality, and Incomprehensibility.

-TOBACCO HABIT-

our backs to each other and the seats of our breeches and bodies pinned together. We were suspended about half way between the floor and ceiling, and couldn't do a thing. We were afraid to move, that we might fall. And the desk was none too substantial. There we posed for an hour. Finally the desk began to give way.

We jumped and both fell in a pile on the floor. It was quite a scramble but no one was hurt. It was fun for some and fright for others, but that's that. The blue back speller was my course of study but I majored in mischief. (They call it Physical Ed out here in Texas.) When I quit school at the Lovell School House, I boasted myself of spelling everything in that book from "Oiver to civer." in the order in which it came without opening the book. And that was something to be talked bout. The arrangement of that old book from ABC's to the pictures, is pictured in my mind like a winding, mountainous country road. The ABC's and scattered letters at the front like so many lateral paths uniting at the foot of a mountain to form, in terrace style, a steadily increasing volume of letters that make up the gradually larger and more difficult columns of words from AB's to incomprehensibility. And don't you doubt that it was music to hear the whole school spelling, aloud, preparing their respective lessons all the way thru the book. There could be heard all parts from bass to tenor as they scaled up via Baker, Horseback, Banishment, Cessation, Immateriality, and Incomprehensibility.

I was feeling my importance more and more and could see other things I thought might make me great. Most all the big boys and some of the little ones used tobacco. Brother Tom was one of them. He was very sly about it tho, for a long time, for Pa didn't use it and was outspoken of his hatred of it. In fact, no one on our place used it till Tom stole into it. But Tom was a big fellow and did so many things I couldn't do. I thought that whatever Tom did was OK. But boys no bigger than I used tobacco. Pa and Ma were so far from it, seemed they thought it unnecessary to advise or warn me against it. I wanted to be as big, at least, as other boys of my size, and several of my chums were chawers and spitters.

One Johnny Derryberry, a friend, was an outstanding participant in the art. He could dip and smoke, chew and spit, all of which looked very big but not exactly attractive. He could hold his fingers over his lips and squirt a stream of tobacco juice and knock the center out of any spot ten feet away, and then look as complacent as a judge. I can't say that exactly appealed to me either, but it did look mighty big. Tom still doing it, and all this enticing me, was a temptation that got most boys. I'm sure that if it had been something good and clean, I would have taken to it more readily. But friend Johny offered to teach me to use it. He told me of the prestige it would give me, and that he could soon teach me to squirt brown as big as he could. It was then late in the fall after the oak leaves had turned brown. I was ready. Johnny's folks lived near us and was handy. He began one morning by having me chew oak leaves. I took the lesson with all accuracy. I chewed leaves all day and spit brown till my jaws were tired. This was repeated the second day and I was doing fine. The third day morning he gave me a cud of his twist and told me to cut down on it just like I had the leaves and everything would be OK. I did. I bore down on it just as I did the leaves. Johny told me I could swallow a little of it (but not much). Well I didn't think I had swallowed any of it, but things were soon chewed. Things looked twittery. I felt like a jumping Jack looks. Then the trees got to bending to the earth and the earth rising to meet them. Soon I was stepping like a blind horse, then rolling like a worm in hot ashes. I couldn't chew, I couldn't squirt, I couldn't even spit. I couldn't do a thing but vomit and grunt. Oh me! It was so different to the lessons I had at school. Altogether different. Castor oil and quinine would have been as sugar and honey. But I had to "tough it out and I spent the day at Johnny's trying to regain my composure for I knew I had to face Pa at supper time. In the evening I braced up the best I could and went home. I steered clear of Pa and Ma. I was afraid they would smell my breath. That was another lesson I didn't report to Pa. And I flunked every one of Johnny's lessons after that. I was thru. I shunned the very mention of tobacco and from that miserable day hence, all the pent up pleasure that others seemed to get out of the nasty stuff, has never again appealed to me.

-PARTNERSHIP-

By this time, I had, besides Pa and Ma, ten up and going partners in my business. Pa had married and had three children prior to his marriage to my mother. When his first wife died, Alex, the baby, was taken by his grand parents and reared by them, and never lived with us, but he was a good partner and came over often. If he had stayed with us, there would have been thirteen in our family. The other children of Pa's first marriage were Mary and Tom. They lived with us and I didn't know, until I was half grown but that they were full sister and brother. So far as I ever knew, we all got along perfectly. The order in which we were, is this - Pa, Ma, Mary, Tom, Margaret, Ada, Alfred, Luther, Hugh L., Homer, Martin and Priest. We were all real partners. We had lots of land, fields, timber, creeks, horses, cattle, sheep, hogs etc., and of course, always had plenty to do. If we didn't do it with a will, we didn't lack for other incintives, but, all in all, we got the jobs done. When we all lived there and worked and played together, we were, in my mind, a truly happy family, a home family and a family home. To all intents and purposes, every one in this partnership family was true blue for the general welfare. I can think of nothing greater than that this great family, in harmony, worked, played, planned, sang and lived together. I remember distinctly seeing Pa sit down in his big chair and take every one of us in his lap, on his shoulders, on his back, in his arms and on his feet - all at once. There we would hang on and each trying to love him most. But with all that gang sitting, hanging, holding, clinging on to Pa, is a picture to me, greater than any artist could paint. Then we would fall off, one by one, and go to Ma who was anxiously looking on and wondering why she couldn't have a part. Then we would be found, all standing around Pa and Ma and all together singing hymns. Singing was a natural gift of the Smalls, and it has always been my thrill.

Soon time would come to bed. Well, the big ones and the middle sized ones had regular places to sleep. The little ones would fill in wherever circumstances made space. And some times it was not very spacious. The trundle bed was always filled with little ones. When the time to retire was announced, there was a scramble for the trundle bed. First one got hold of it, had zibbs on it. That settled it. Those of the little ones who failed to get on the trundle bed had to be provided for by any of the big ones who ware disposed. Of course, Pa and Ma had a bed. They most always took the baby in their bed in cold weather but put him in the cradle in hot weather. Ma suggested that the little ones divide themselves into teams and take turns for the trundle bed.

Then there would be no confusion over it. From then hence, it worked like a charm. It was fun to pull the trundle bed out from under the big bed at night and push it back under there next morning. And, say, that was fine snoozing on that little bed just below Pa's reach. Sometimes Pa would roll us around on that little bed waking us for breakfast. Sometimes, in real cold weather, Tom would take a little one in bed with him. And Mary would take one so they could look after him if he had croup. But in hot weather it was a free-for-all on a big pallet on the floor. Tom was the only one that snored. Sometimes he sounded like a mule braying. Then again it would sound like distant howling of fox hounds. The whole family was supposed to be at the table for breakfast. When no company, peddlers, travelers, or strangers were there, which was seldom, all of us could get to the table at once. When we did, it was great. A rare privilege. Did you ever see a real big family all seated at the table at the same time? If you haven't seen a family of twelve there eating, listening to Pa and Ma talk and all talking and laughing when Pa and Ma were not, you missed one of the greatest scenes known. The company or lodgers who ate with us most every day caused disruption and some anxiety, but the cold fact that we had to wait and take the leavings was so established at our house, that it was taken for granted, even by those who had to be deprived. And you who have never had to wait, have missed something else worth while.

Since that became only a memory and I have gotten so far away and alone so much and have observed so many things, I can best compare it to a mother quail and her brood of a dozen going to water. They all line up at the water edge and all drink. Every sup the little ones take is followed by a look at the mother. Then another sup and another look till all are quenched. That is the scene when all at home alone. Most of the time company or some stranger was there and some of us had to wait till the first table was thru. Then there would be a scramble for Pa's place and Ma's place. With much long suffering I have waited and waited and seen all the best parts of the chicken devoured and only the neck and feet left, if any at all, when I got there. My experience was, that, at the table, I never knew that a chicken had anything but neck and feet. But then, when hog killing time came in winter, I made up for all that lack in chicken, for ribs, backbones, sausage and ham were in abundance, and the first table and the 2nd table and even the 3rd table, if you please, could but only diminish the supply. Too, in berry season, cherry season and fruits of all kinds, the leavings of a pie, or apple dumplings were just as good as the first helping - And the quantity was never questioned.

Not every time was I content when I had to wait. Sometimes I would be so hungry and it seemed the first table would never get thru. I well remember when I would peep around to see what was going on and to see if there was going to be anything left. I also remember when Pa would catch me at it - that straight look he gave me was sufficient to quiet me. But I never did get mad at Pa and Ma. They were as divine to me. I never did get so tired, disgusted and out of sorts while waiting that I didn't want to get to their place to eat even without washing the plate. Seemed that everything had its place and turn.

-SINGING-

As well as Pa liked singing it seemed that it, too, had a certain turn and was out of place if done any other time. Once after we had sat up late the night before singing and learning new songs, I was the last one to the breakfast table and came singing and didn't stop when seated. Pa reached over one or two and gave me a swat that I came near tumbling off the bench. He said "now will you remember that you must not sing at the table?" Pa was a good singer and led our family group in many, many evenings, joined in singing hymns. A song that seemed to be Pa's favorite, was -Waiting and Watching at the Beautiful Gate. It was only a song to me. I liked all of them and never realized what the words to that song meant until later on. More beautiful, sweeter words for a song have never been written. It has always been my thrill to sing and listen to singing of hymns. "Waiting and Watching at the Beautiful Gate." Most every time Pa led the singing at church, he would include that song. I also remember those were his last words. When we stood around his bed, and his last breath was near, he said he would be waiting and watching for us at the beautiful gate.

Sweet memories, memories so dear,
Fills my heart like childhood cheer,
Sweeter than all the world to me,
Sweeter and sweeter as memory can be.


Uncle Andy Small (photo from Opal (Altom) Jarrett

There were singings at the Lovell School house on Sundays. As leaders, besides Pa, I recall Uncle Dan Small, Willis Small, John Small, Andy Small, Tom Small, Harve Azbill and Hint Woods. It may seem a little strange to you, but I remember the first song I ever heard Pa lead at church. It was "Waiting and Watching at the Beautiful Gate." It was at Holly Hill one Sunday when Pa and Ma got on their horses and took Luther and me behind them and Hugh L. and Homer in their laps and went. I also remember the first song I ever heard Harve Azbill lead at the Lovell School House. It was "Ye Children of Jesus Whose Bound for the Kingdom, Tune Ail Your Voices and Help Me to Sing". I don't know the title of this song, but the above was a phrase of it that Mr. Azbill would sing while all the others dwelled. I learned that. As I have heretofore said, singing is my thrill and I just had as well been a good singer. But it is a little difficult to explain. I was always listening for melody. If I could hear it, I listened still, but never took a lesson in music of any kind. Always enjoyed singing and as well as I like to sing, to this day, I frequently find myself silently listening when a congregation is singing. As far back as my memory goes, I always wanted to be on time when going to church or where there was to be singing. I have walked two or three miles to a singing just to hear others sing. And as I approached the place and heard the sweet strains of the melody as it floated out above the braying of mules and neighing of horses that were hitched around, I couldn't walk fast enough to get into the house where I was sure to not miss any more Of it.

They had a way of marching, two by two at gatherings, and singing as they marched. I thought that was the prettiest program I ever saw. I think so yet. We lived about two miles from the Lovell School house. One bright Sunday afternoon, they formed a parade of everybody present and, with two fiddlers in front (Alex one of them), marched all the way to our house where Mother lay sick. They sang as they marched around the house and paused at Mother's window to sing her favorite hymns. Tho that was many years ago and all now out of date, but, have you ever seen or heard anything by anybody that would give you sweeter memory? It was not long after that when dear Mother had to give up the life merely begun on earth, and passed into the eternal home where suffering never comes again and where singing, sweet singing has no end.

-OUR HENDERSON COUNTY HOME-

Our home in Henderson County, when I was a boy, was a beautiful place just carved out of the woods. Pa did the most of that work. He cut the logs that made our house, barn and other buildings. He cleared the land that made our fields. We had four fields -

The Todd field, the Willis field, the Middle field and the Burl field. We had the big orchard in the middle field, the Burl orchard in the Burl field and the little orchard just east of the garden east of our house. We never knew what it was to want for any fruits or vegetables common to the country nor for any provisions such as flour, meal, meat, lard, milk, butter and eggs. We raised all that in abundance. Don't suppose Pa ever bought a pound of anything to eat except sugar and coffee. So far as natural necessary resources were concerned, we had it by raising it at home. Pa always raised lots of crop but there was no market for anything except cotton. A pride of his was to have good livestock. He butchered ten to twenty big fat hogs every year, fattened on corn. Always having plenty and, to spare, of good meat.

-GOING TO MILL-

We shelled the corn and carried it to mill to be ground into meal. We had wheat to thresh, and after threshing it would carry it also in sacks on horseback to mill to have it ground to make the flour for all our biscuits, cakes and pies. It was an important stage in a boy's career when he got big enough to go to mill. The turn, as it was called, was evenly divided and thrown across the horse's back and the rider sat upon that. If a bad job was done in dividing the turn on the horse's back, it was troublesome, and really dangerous for the boy rider. A man could take the turn off the horse and put it back, but a boy couldn't do that. When it was not evenly divided, and wore over to one side, the boy had to ride out on the little end to make a balance. I remember, more than once when the miller came out and lifted me off the horse, the turn fell to the ground on the other side.

Yes, we raised things to wear too. We sheared the wool off the sheep, picked the burrs out of the wool, carded the wool into bats to be spun by the spinning wheel to be weaved by the loom into cloth to make all our clothes. When Pa wanted to build a house, he first sharpened his axe, went next to the forest, cut the kind of trees he wanted, sawed them, split them or hued them, dried them then had a house-raising. Just sent word to as many neighbors as he needed and plenty help was forthcoming. If he wanted to cover a house he cut a white oak tree, sawed off cuts, shingle lengths, split them into squares, take a fro and fro out shingles or boards just like he wanted. He used to have me hold the fro while he hit it with the mall. I always liked to help Pa do something. Always felt better over it. Of all the buildings we had, Pa cut the trees and worked them into the proper parts needed. He never bought a thing to go into those buildings except the nails, glass windows and locks for the doors.

I was large enough to do considerable work and to relieve Pa in many instances and made a regular hand going to mill. That was one of the big things. Others were -going with Tom to hunt the stock on the public range, going to the river, going to the gin and riding up into the upper story of the gin in the cotton car. When the Thresher would come. When the molasses mill came. Log Rolling and Hog Killing and going to the river. These were regular yearly special times. Then our time was sparse to breaking in yearlings, working them to our truck wagon, going swimming in the old churn hole, as we called it, in Brown's creek between our house and Uncle Dan's, making hickory whips and popping them, making fluttermills and jumping with corn stalks. These were almost routine, taking in all seasons.

Going to mill was an all year proposition. Had to go thru snow and ice, high water any time the bin runs low. While we were learning to work, we were caused to learn to be systematic. Pa had a place for everything and he meant to keep everything in its place. I think the first field work I did was cutting sprouts. Every winter Pa would clear up a small tract and we called it the new ground. The one that was cleared the year before, we called the old new ground. It would have sprouts on it that came up from the stumps. I cut corn stalks, piled and burned them. Pa and Tom did the plowing and other big work. In my study of the past, I see how I gradually became a regular hand and was given certain laid out tasks to perform. I had that to learn also. While teaching us to work, it taught us to know something about what we could do. Then it went on to rewarding us if and when we performed a certain task. For instance, if I should do so much on a certain job I might go to Grand Pa's Saturday night. Well, that job was surely done to order and on time. I don't remember that we ever had a dull time at home. But the seasons brought many special occasions and opportunities that we didn't fail to recognize and observe.

To the west, northwest and southwest were fields and pastures. The Todd field to the north of the Willis field. Then came the middle field immediately west of the horse and hog lots. To the south of the middle field and directly west of the house and the cow and sheep lots was the pasture. It extended, as did the middle field, to Brown's Creek. South of the pasture and the Public road was the Burl field which also extended to the creek. A zigzag rail fence enclosed all fields and a nice paling enclosed the yard. Extra high heavy fences enclosed the lots. All fences everywhere were hog-proof and sheep-proof.

Our house was situated in a triangle of roads, in a large yard, with trees on the outside and Blue grass and flowers inside. The house was of logs and built on the old style. large room with chimney and fire-place in the west end and also an upstairs. There was space in that room for two big beds and for the trundle bed and ample room for chairs, table etc, before the fire-place. A large side room or L to the north large enough for cooking and equipment and supplies and a dining table to seat twelve. An east porch to this that extended round and formed a hall between the two front rooms. Across this hall, from the first room described was another room same size with chimney and fire-place in the east end. On the south side of this room was a dressing room. A wide porch extended full length of both large rooms facing the south which was the front. There were 9 beds - 4 upstairs. To the west of the kitchen was the well. To the north was the smokehouse. The garden and strawberry patch lay next to the Yard east. Then, adjoining east of it, was the little orchard. The main road ran along south of it all. A road ran along on the north. A road branched off the main road west of the house running north separating the house from the horse lot, cow lot, hog lot and sheep lot, all of which were kept separately and considerable distance from the house. Woods of big trees on the north, east and south and the fields to the west. The woods sparsed with hickory, chestnut, hazelnut, walnut, huckleberries, grapes and muscadines.

-THE BIG FIRE-

While burning corn stalks one windy March day, fire got beyond control. The grass afire would take it to the dead trees in the field and it would blow from one to another. It soon got so bad that it was threatening our barn. The blame of this fire was laid to Ada. She let it get started out of her reach and by the time the rest of us came to help, it was raging. Willis came to help. He and Pa cut dozens of dead hard oak trees to keep the fire from blowing onto the buildings. They actually performed a feat there that approached the impossible. Several other neighbors saw our plight and came to help. The fire crawled along thru fences, crossed roads and got into the woods. Then it seemed the whole country would be ravaged. Forgetting dinner and everything else, we worked and schemed all day by going far enough ahead to rake paths and fire against it. For more than a mile we had clean paths raked thru the woods. Some guarded there while others surrounded and turned the fire into creeks and roads. It was a terrible mass of flames and ruined much timber, but by late in the afternoon the wind ceased and we had it under control. I remember Pa calling everybody, telling them the fight was won and for all to get ready for supper. After supper we retraced our raked paths and made secure, all questionable places. That was one of the biggest days of my experience.

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-TRAGEDY-

One time, when Hare's mill was out of fix, Pa sent me to Cisson's mill with a turn of wheat all by myself. I had been there once before with Pa, so I thought I could find the way, and i did. When I got there I was riding way over on the left side of the horse to balance my turn and it was then about ready to fall off on the right side. Mr. Cisson and a negro man came out to meet me. The negro caught the turn before it hit the ground while Mr. Cisson caught me. When they poured up my sack of wheat into the hopper, Mr. Cisson cautioned me to not get close to the belts. He showed me spots of blood that had been dashed out of a negro boy about my size who had come to mill just ahead of me, and who was told to stay away. Those spots of blood were on my mind many hours. I didn't need to be told again to stay away. There was just one other incident that I remember that made me feel worse. That was when

Mr. John McMiltin hung himself. We were at school when Eli Derryberry came galloping up to the door and motioned for the teacher. He had come there to narrate it over the country. School was dismissed and some of us went by to see him. There he hung by a rope tied to a protruding log high up on the corner of his barn, the other end of the rope wrapped tightly around his head. One look was enough for me. He had done a good job of it. Nothing slipt and he hung there, black in the face and his tongue out. Yes, one look was too much for me. I got away from there, and didn't sleep a wink that night. It absorbed my mind. Mr. Mack, as he was called, was a very fine man of the community. He would take it on himself to make all children in his presence behave in the absence of parents, and all the children liked him. I have never since, liked to see tragedy, and I have always gone the other way, or kept my distance when I heard of, or saw a fuss, a fight, a killing or anything of the kind coming on.

-BRAVE?-

I thought I was very brave in some ways and very timid in others. One evening, after we had supper and were resting from a hard day's labor, we heard horses running. Pa and I went out to see about it and found that they were Uncle Dan's horses. They had gotten out of their lot and were going places, having big times, serenading the neighbors. Well, Pa said "We must direct these horses toward home. Very likely Dan don't know they are out. Are you not afraid and want to drive these horses to the creek, that they may go on home?"

Uncle Dan lived about a mile from our house and there was a creek about halfway between (Brown's Creek). Our houses were in plain view of each other. I have heard Pa and Uncle Dan talk with each other on still mornings from their respective places. I knew that I was the proper one to respond and altho I was afraid, I spoke up and said - "I'll go." Pa helped get them started and he went back to the house, thinking his brave son would do the job. I followed the horses, hooping them up and did fine, running and holloing till they had crossed the creek and were galloping and playing on toward home till they were almost out of my hearing. I stood there to see if they went one, and they did. What about me down there in the bottom, in the dark, alone? It is difficult to describe. I couldn't go on, I was not supposed to. Turning about and seeing nothing but darkness, I stood and stood. I was afraid to go. I was afraid to stay. I was beyond calling distance. Well, I had to do something. I swallowed my cud and started. I could hardly find the road for looking back. I went a few steps at a time and stopt to see if anything was after me. After the patter of the horses feet ceased, everything was silent and still as death, except the above mentioned. I was dumb as dodo. I thought of everything of which I was capable. Ail the ghost stories I had heard Grand Pa Mack tell, of Bears, Panthers screaming, Wild cats jumping from tree to tree, mad dogs foaming at the mouth and slipping up on people, whitely attired somethings appearing in the road and jumping at people in the dark and all that, and I found myself backing up in the corner of the rail fence by the side of the road to stand awhile. Oh, if some one had gone with me. If some one would come along. Twas only but a half mile to the creek, but going back seemed a hundred. All I could hear was crickets and frogs. How

I did wish I could be a frog and just sing to the top of my voice and not be afraid. I would move slowly along at times from one corner of the crooked fence to the other, keeping my back to the fence, until I had gotten to where I could see the light in our house. I breathed deeply. Then came the memory of my renown from the coon hunt and I braced myself, cleared my throat and made a dash for the house, holloing and singing as if I was the happiest lad under the stars. The folks came out on the porch to see what it was all about, but o man! Did I feel good once more when I had closed the yard gate behind me, while the rest of the family stood on the porch yelling at me? And when Pa asked me if I put the horses over the creek, I said yes sir and stayed there and listened to them run till they must have gotten home. Mary said-Weren't you afraid? Nooo - But Pa asked why I was so long getting back. O, I was in no hurry. I had been gone over an hour, when I should have been back in fifteen minutes.

-SHIFTING-

As time went on, Pa married again. This time to Miss Jennie Ross. She was a relative of the Hares, and there is where Pa found her. Pa was already talking of selling out and finding a new location. He talked of going to Illinois and to Texas. He had been to Illinois and knew what a fine country it was. His father, Grand Pa Small, lived there. He had a fine prairie farm near Jerseyville in Jersey County, Illinois. But, after his 3rd marriage, being persuaded, by the new wife to go to Carroll County, Pa began to look that way. He looked around Roan's Creek and Clarksburg with a view of selling his place and buying in Carroll. This, no doubt, became known to Lige Derryberry who owned a farm in the New Hope Community in Carroll County. Mr. Derryberry's kin all lived near us in Henderson, Lige wanted to go to our community in Henderson. So, one day while all of us happened to be at the house, Mr. Derryberry rode up on his sorrel horse, lit and came right in. He had come to see if he could trade his place in Carroll for ours. That was I in Henderson County. Good old Henderson, its woods full of huckleberries, blackberries, dewberries, grapes, muscadines, hazelnuts, chestnuts, hickory nuts, walnuts and it seems, everything else all of which were in abundance and wild and free for the gathering. One could live very well in Henderson County without other than its own native supply. The one place known to me as nature's choice, was the 700 acre plantation in Henderson County.

But Pa was looking for advancement, not specially in nature, but in man's power to accomplish. More refinement, culture and enlightenment. So, he traded our place with Lige Derryberry for 360 acres in Carroll County.

-WE MOVE TO CARROLL COUNTY-

Some time, in some winter, I don't know when, Pa had several wagons and plenty help engaged to move us. He put some out to drive the livestock thru and the others of which I was a helper, loaded everything and struck out for Carroll County. It was fifteen miles away and all to go in one day. I had never been so far from the old home. We had to go right by Grand Pa's and if I hadn't been bound up in the moving I couldn't have passed Grand Pa's without stopping.

We loaded the day before and had everything ready to start early. Away we went up by Grand Pa's, Ki Lovell's, Old Negro Mack's, on to the Natchez Trace. A few other people of our acquaintance had been over that part of the Old Natchez Trace from Old Negro Mack's to Bucksnort and we had heard a little about it. It was historic and, that part of it uninhabited. It was a trail along a ridge thru the forest some seven or eight miles. The only signs of human exploration was a turkey blind here and there. Do you know what a turkey blind is? Well, it is just a few poles stacked up to hide behind to kill wild turkeys. Somewhere on that old Natchez Trace, Pa said we were half way. There we had the first picnic dinner I ever had a part in. We stopt only a few minutes and ate, but didn't take time to feed the teams for Pa wanted to get to our destination while it was day light and some of the neighbors who hauled loads wanted to get back home that night.

We drove on thru Bucksnort, viewing the impressive grandeur of the town, the largest some of us had ever seen. It consisted of Irye Hester's white house, Mr. Holbrook's store with up-stairs for Masonic Lodge, Dr. Town's beautiful white house and office and, at the other end of the land, Wylie Carrington's fine white house. That was the town. After passing thru, we again resumed our normal feeling and drove on down by Hint Bolen's, Jim Rosser's, Mr. Gooch's and Dr. Hill's, to the Derryberry place where we were met by several future friends, there to take up our abodein our new home. We were picked up at our old home in Henderson County and set down in our new home in Carroll. There things had to start again.

-ENVIRONMENT-

Our new Farm lay south of and along Sandy River and along the Huntingdon and Camden Highway and the intersection of the Huntingdon and Perryville Highway, between Sandy River and Hatch Creek, about 5 miles Southeast of Clarksburg and one mile from New Hope Baptist Church. The farm was not more than half as large as the one we left, but was more level and publicly located. Its location too, we found out, was deep in the malarial district. At this time the government had never thought of straightening creeks and draining sloughs and swamps.

We were caught and soon found ourselves victims of Malaria fever before we knew what we really faced. Where we had lived in Henderson County was almost free from malaria and we had never heard of such a plague.

While we went about looking, learning, investigating, several new friends came by and introduced themselves. We were not long getting the situation in hand and then started to school. The school house was not so far away as the Lovell school in Henderson but was across Hatch Creek from us. I had better luck my first day there than I had at the Lovell School. I didn't get a lickin for several days. I was a good big boy then and was having some judgment and consideration. There seemed to be a little different air in this Carroll County school to what we had been accustomed. There were several subjects taught that I hadn't heard of. John Hill, one of the oldest and most advanced, was the leader. John soon, was our teacher, and from that, he went somewhere to attend college. The next we saw of John, he came home, wearing a Derby hat and graduated. We had seen but few derby hats and our impression was that only rich and high sounding fellows wore them. In Henderson County, we went to school only in summer, about a month. Here in Carroll, we went in winter. We plunged right in to everything -we kids going to school and Pa and Tom straightening up things and getting ready for a crop. There was plenty to do and all of us were called to the colors at every out-of-school. There was only a trail from our house thru the woods and across the creek to school. Most of the time it was muddy. A big, smooth tree had been cut and felled across the creek for a footlog. Ordinarily, it was of no consequence to cross the creek, but, in freezing weather when the log was covered and slick with ice, it was different. We didn't stop going and when we came to the ice-covered footlog, may be we walked it and may be we didn't. Some times the girls would crawl. Luther showed us once how simple and easy it was to walk that log. He took off his shoes and socks, took all our books and clipped along across that icy log as composedly as you please. Of course, he said his feet didn't get cold, but, really, that was shure enough ice, and the temperature was probably more than halfway down between freezing and zero. Other times when the water was up and we could not get along without wading, military tactics were again brought into play when those of us who had boots, would carry the others over, one by one, then go back and get our boots and the dinner. It was generally understood that graduates knew everything in the world. That was what I thought, graduating meant. When John Hill returned, graduated, he was no longer John. He was Professor Hill, and the derby hat simply capped it off, and he stood out, far out, in the lead of all the country's bouts. I was sure that a derby hat was one of the requisites of graduation.

Back to our new home as spring came - Everything was taking on delightful status. The place cleaned up, the buildings repaired, orchard pruned and we were ready to clear out the fence corners, cut the sprouts and the corn stalks, and ready for the plows. As the birds began to sing that once again 'tis spring and the frogs in the swamps got their guttering underway till the sound thereof pealed out the loud and lonesome, yet thrilling tones that would have drowned out the shrill grind of a thousand plaining mills.

Forest blooms and shrubbery blossoms burst forth and blended their fragrance to give us the joy that crowned the happiness of our new home. The alder by the river, the willow in the vales. Honeysuckles perfumed the air while the flutter mill sails. Thus the glow of beauty of Carroll County's spring was no less than that of our native Henderson and just as our dreams of happiness in our new home were corning true, that still and unseen terror was slowly creeping into us to destroy us. That was malarial fever. It came upon us and into us, taking us by surprise, like war, dealing misery and death. The nearest doctor was five miles away, at Clarksburg, and he was the kind that, no matter what was wrong with a fellow, he gave him little sweet coated pills.

He either didn't know, or was afraid to attack the monster. Several of us had slight attacks, but, of course, didn't know what it was nor the means to combat it. Sister Margaret seemed to absorb the deadly poison more freely and to have been picked as the victim in its first onslaught. Apparently, before we realized the danger, she was fast giving way and before we got a doctor, was critical. The meager attention and lack of skilled treatment certainly let her go rapidly from bad to worse until within only a few weeks the death angel called her from her misery to join her mother in still another new home. I can't think of a thing about Margaret, that she ever said or did but goodness, sweetness, purity and loveliness. She must have been one of the earth's most perfect members. She came forth as a flower, and was cut down in the very budding of life, at the age of about 14. We took her body back to Henderson County and buried her by the side of her mother in the Lovell graveyard. About the time we were recovered from Margaret's death, sister Mary married and left. That left only nine of us. We had a struggle to keep ourselves able to adjust ourselves and do the work. We struggled on for about a year after Mary left and the death angel called again. The same monster enemy continually lurking, struck again and claimed brother Homer. I had seen our step-mother, in her partiality, mistreat Homer so much that, in my sorrow, I had a thought of gladness of his passing. We buried him in the Clarksburg cemetery. The rest of us survived the malaria and did well for some time. Pa had learned that quinine was about the best remedy and he kept a big jar of bulk quinine and capsules as large as my little finger on hand all the time. He required every one to get up early every morning, stir around and take one of those big capsules of quinine before breakfast.

-ENVIRONMENT--PLAY-

Our environment was luring, tho very dangerous, that, of course, we children -didn't know. There was a creek some distance away on the south, west and north of us that we could play in, and we boys played in it about four months of the year. Girls didn't go swimming. They stayed out of the water entirely. That was strictly boy's fun. Our best swimming pool was in Sandy River by the bridge where the highway crossed. It was the favorite pool for the whole community. The worst drawback was that it was in plain view of the bridge. Everyone crossing the bridge could see us, and of course, that wouldn't do at all. We had to be on the lookout for the passersby. Some times we would dive and stay under water until they were out of sight. Some times we had to come back to surface before they got out of sight, and then Bathing suits hadn't been invented and when we went in the water, we were naked. Some times people crossing, would stop on the bridge to watch us and then we would pull off a show worthy of their time, but we couldn't go out on the bank or get up out of the water at all, you know. There were times we were in that pool when Pa thought we were in the field at work while he went to Clarksburg. Well, we had to keep close watch for him, for if he should see us on such occasions, business would certainly pick up for us. But we had the advantage of warning. For considerable distance in each direction of the river bridge, there were slough bridges and we could hear the sound of the horses' feet when they first struck the slough bridges, before they got to the river bridge. That was big play for us, and while it was suicidal, I suppose it was impossible to keep us out of the water. But Pa kept pouring quinine down us with daily regularity, and, no doubt, that is what pulled us thru.

-OUR CARROLL COUNTY HOME-

The setting was somewhat similar to our Henderson County Home. The highway ran east and west by our house and the house was on the north side of it, facing south. Across the road was a beautiful landscape gently sloping south, covered with big trees sparsed as if planned and placed by a survey. But it was natural, the handiwork of the Supreme architect of the Universe. This gradual slope of natural beauty, blended into a gentle rise and over a hill to Hatch Creek. On the west was the big level field to the Hopper House. Still farther west was a slope to Hatch Creek that curves to the north, along which was a built up levy for the highway that leads north across Sandy river. To the north of our house was a large orchard - then the Taylor field around which lay the other part of our big farm to the river bottom. Still north of our field was the wide Sandy river bottom covered with much fine timber and some swamp. We were bounded on the east by Mr. Granvil Hatch's place - the Maple Creek road branching off from the highway near our house -forming the boundary. The house, as in Henderson County, was of logs-Two large front rooms, a chimney at each end and a hall between. On the north of the east room was an L or side room with chimney in its east end. Across the hall west of the L room, and north of the west room was another side room. Over the east front room was an upstairs. No porch except the hall. Each of the two front rooms was about the size of those in Henderson County and always had two beds each. And the trundle bed was in the east room, which was the family sitting room. There were, also, 9 beds. The L room to the north of the east room was a kitchen and dining room combined as in our Henderson County house. A large yard. To the north-west was the well. To the northeast the smokehouse. To the east the strawberries.

To the southeast the cow lot. Across the road and to the west the big barn and horse lot. To the south of it the hog lot. We had no sheep in Carroll County. This was a house by the side of a much traveled highway where all mankind, alike, found shelter and comfort. It was close and handy to the New Hope Baptist Church and Baptists and all others came and were welcome. Pa was the only man in the neighborhood that attended the Church of Christ. The nearest was Rone's Creek near Clarksburg, about 5 miles from home.

-ACQUAINTANCE - HOSPITALITY-

Our acquaintance became extensive. It grew until we knew and were known for fully two miles in every direction. Our place, that is, our house was on the highway, in a very attractive and convenient location. It seems that but few people passed without stopping or halting. We had almost continuous company. There were but few nights when we didn't have strangers, Agents, Drummers, peddlers, preachers or travelers of some kind. Some paid, some didn't, some could, some couldn't, hut we were always glad to see any one come.

It was Pa's delight to succor those in need. If he ever made a charge I never knew it. If he ever turned any one away, it was because he had no more room. Ail this was making happiness. Pa was continually improving the place until we had one of the most beautiful country homes in the county. He added to the house, not only for the enjoyment of his family, but for all who might come his way. He built a house for every purpose. A smokehouse, potato house, apple house, wood shed, tool house, implement house, wheat house, cotton seed house, cow feed house, saddle and harness house, chicken house. All these besides the big barn. There was never lack of food or feed for all seasons and circumstances. Preparations were made for everything in its season. And there was not a season of the year we didn't enjoy if we had health. Springtime there was real life in work and play from the blooming of the Dogwoods, the hickory, the alder, the Spicewood and maple, honeysuckles and roses on thru summer, blessing us with their fragrance for us to live and enjoy. Then the reaping and gathering of the fruits of our labors for our sustenance thru the winter. And that was real life. That was the setting of the John Small family in Carroll County.

-OUR HOME-MAKING COME TO AN END-

Pa didn't get to enjoy his newly built up home very long. Seemed that things had turned for the better for us, but suddenly, the tragic hand linked itself with the undermining tactics of the old dreaded disease and snatched Pa from his brilliant activities in the mortal realm and wafted him to his certain abode with the immortals of eternity. Pa and all of us who were left were doing fine till one day when he and I were hauling hay out of the field to the barn. We were getting the last load and trying to beat a cloud that was boiling up and looked very much like rain. We got it on the wagon and, in a rush to get it to shelter before the rain, Pa drove as fast as he thought was safe. He was on top of that big load of hay and had no way to brace himself to hold the team. I was behind him trying to help him hold them. But the team got into a trot and from that, to a run and excited with all that was going on. Pa's efforts to hold them down were futile. They were, by this time, badly scared, or determined to make a runaway of it and, indeed, they succeeded, and Pa was helpless. They had to go thru a narrow gate just wide enough for a wagon. Just before reaching the gate Pa told me to slide off behind for fear they would hit a gate post and wreck us. But after I slid off they ran thru the gate and didn't hit a thing. But shortly after passing the gate, the road made almost a right angle turn. Just before reaching that, I saw Pa trying to get off. He tried to slide off at the side but became entangled some way and fell in a twist that caused injury. It was thought internal injury. As there were no doctors in our reach, it was never known how bad. Our nearest and only doctor was at Clarksburg - 5 miles away. Just at that particular time, the bridge over the river on the Clarksburg road was torn up for repairs and we had to go up the river several miles to get across. I was sent for the doctor. I had to go twice the distance to get there. I got to the doctor's place after dark and he was gone. They said he would come when he could. Then I went back and had difficulty finding the way. Took me half the night to get home. Then we didn't know when to expect the doctor. Pa was lying there sweltering with fever, and nothing we could do. No telephones, not even in Clarksburg. Then the doctor came the following day but arrived late. Two days had passed before we had any medical attention.

By that time, while being treated for the injury, malarial fever was well set, and it was too late for anything that could be done to save him and the deadly power of the fever forced its way and conquered, in a very few days, before we realized the seriousness of it, and Pa was gone. Thus passed the fourth one of our great family. By the loss of Pa, it seemed that all was lost. We children were still unable to comprehend the full realization of plight. None but the older of us realized the situation. It meant that we could never again look to Pa nor hear his gentle father, a husband, a man and a citizen, I suppose he had no superior, for I have never heard so much as a criticism of him during the whole of his 46 years of life.

Now only six of us left with a step-mother. Pa left us this fine farm and plenty of good horses and cattle etc, to operate it, and all clear of debt. But we were at the mercy of a stepmother of very poor judgment. We were almost blank in every other respect. Not old enough nor large enough to manage nor to do much work and no leader to take our parent's place. Tom tried to stay with us and help us, but for reasons known to everybody in our settlement, he had to give it up.

-THE DERRYBERRY YEAR OR" THE YEAR OF REVOLUTION"-

About 8 months after Pa's death she married Lige Derryberry, the man with whom Pa had traded places. He had 4 children and there were six of us. When the announcement of the wedding became known it seemed good news to Ada and the younger boys. Without a serious thought of the matter, they thought it an innovation. But when she took me back into the side room, closed the door and said to me in a low voice, that she and Mr. Derryberry were going to be married, and wanted to know what my attitude was. I promptly responded, in my youthful boldness, that I thought she was playing hell. Was I wrong that time? Well, I might have been, but as near as I can learn what that play is, I am inclined to believe I was right, and that she made a real job of it. Of course, everything was lovely to begin with. Mere visiting for a few days, for it was late winter or early spring. Then Mr. Derryberry made his lineup. He sent his children to school all the year and told us that if we would work hard all the year and make a good crop, he would give us a lot of money Christmas. We had never had any money and that sounded might good to us. It was a trade. We were ready to go. We worked both places and worked up a fine crop. Joe Derryberry, Henry Talent, Luther, Hugh L. and me. It was the biggest year's work we had done. We had something to look forward to. You know its no trouble to work when you know that there is something worth while coming. We made lots of corn, cotton, hay and other things.

It was a year of uncertainty, mysterious-like. It was far from the whole-soul, whole-heartedness free for all and all for freedom which we had been used to. We couldn't look down the road of our ambition. Our ambition was, at least, held up temporarily. Imagine we had a feeling akin to slavery. But there were some interesting things, some good times and a few bright moments mixed along with the drudgery. Yes, we had some fun. Twould be unbelievable, that out of all that gang of youngsters, nothing but drudgery. I'll be fair. More than once I saw Old Lige trying to single out the fellow who threw away his tobacco or put a cucumber tine under his chair so it would slip. You can guess now who that was, but Pa-Lige never knew. I slipt Old Mrs. Lige's snuff bottle once and hid it. When she was ready for a dip she didn't find it and caused dilligent search to be made in the various parts of the premises. She had the whole family, including me, looking the place over. I felt a little skittish at times, but what composed me most, was that she remarked that some outsider must have taken it. I made it a point to look closely where I hid it so that no others need to look there. Search was made but the bottle could nowhere be found. Then we quit. When I hid it, I intended to finally find it but she pounced on me, just on general principles, and I lay low about the bottle of snuff till I got a good chance and took it to the Willis Hole and buried it neath six feet of water.

What a cat she was the day she had to do without her snuff. That incident was a strong reaction on my part. No one ever knew the disposition of that bottle of snuff. It just seemed that I had to do something for revenge. At least, to revenge my own feelings and I couldn't do openly. I had to do it secretly. That is human nature and altho it does no one any good, there certainly is satisfaction in it.

There were many interesting incidents during this year of the revolution, as we children referred to it. As a whole, it must have been, really a commendable one, considering the setup of the conglomerated mixup of the family. There weren't any better boys than Joe Derryberry. There weren't any better girls than Delia. We and Neely and Tolley had some skirmishes but rounded up as brothers. The two heads of that gang were, of course, the ones that caused both the beginning and the lamentable outcome. We had some fun, notwithstanding the touchous and inflamable situation.

It was easy for only a spark to flare up a flame but it seems there were sufficient levelheadedness to avert seriousness. Splendid cooperation and mutual assistance prevailed - considering -We would fight among ourselves all day and then if an outsider, such as the Tigers (the Blankenship boys) should start something with any of us our whole bunch, to a boy, landed on them in our common defense. The Tigers, the sons of Mr. Blankenship, a neighbor, were not dangerous. They were really good fellows if some one would just show them where to head in. They could be the worst and the best of most any body. They always had good clothes. They were always dressed up and never did go in their shirt tails as nearly all the other boys had to do. They joined the Old Shelter Church and would shout and have as big times as any of them during a big meeting. They even came to see Ada and Delia. And even while they were sparking the girls, we boys would call them out and diff em one for some past offense they had committed on some little fellow alone. Joe was most too large and good to have a hand in the frills of the little ones but he seemed to know no difference between us, and came to the rescue of all alike. I'll never forget the time he helped save me from the old ram. We had a very large Billie. He had long, double circling horns. When he was mad or made a lunge at anything he looked vicious. Mr. Derryberry and Joe were not afraid of him. They could catch him by the horns and throw him down and he would not tackle them. One night

I was helping Delia milk. The way we helped milk was that we pulled the calf away and minded him while the women milked. I was sitting in a trough minding the calf. It was dark and the old ram was in the lot. He sauntered around, presumably, looking for a victim. He finally came right up close to the trough in front of me and just all but said to me - "I dare you to get out of that trough". I didn't accept his challenge, but presently, I had to get out to see about the calf and he saw me. Here he came like a steam engine down a track. I ran for the fence and just as I was reaching for the top rail he gave me a but in the rear that brought me down. I was screaming bloody murder at the top of my voice. By that time Joe was there to help me. The old ram backed off, I suppose to make another lunge at me but Joe came between us and I ran for the wagon. I tipped the brake and step and landed in the wagon bed but he was so close to me and gave such a hard but to get me that he broke his horn on the wagon wheel. I was still yelling and when Joe got the ram by the horn and held him, told me to get down and get out of the lot, which I did, but I was so scared and out of breath that, when I was spoken to I couldn't say more than "old sheep."' It took me several days to get over that.

Well, after the crop was all made, and we went to the big singing at Scrouabout and to the big meeting at the Old Shelter, then it was gathering time. We gathered everything in, and there it was, an abundance to show for our year's labor. Then with everything spick and span for Christmas, believe it or not, about the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve, Mr. Derryberry called us all in, his boys included, and presented each of the whole ten of us 50 cents. He bragged on us and said that he had made the biggest crop of all his life and was proud of us for doing the work. There wasn't a word said. We accepted that 50 cts with great appreciation. As much as if it had been a check for a $100. We were triumphantly elated at this generous reward for our year of faithful service. It was great. That half dollar looked immense and we struck out for Clarksburg to buy out the town. We bought and bought and bought till we were loaded down with fine things, and had money left. Wasn't that a history-making year? And what an innovation! He and she, no doubt, planned for us all to go together and do big things. Well, we went together all right, and we did some pretty big things, but the ball that rolled and accumulated so bountifully that year for him came to its melting point in less than twelve months from the day of that happy uniting, but long enough for our horses, cattle, hogs and equipment to be squandered and our set-up all demoralized. That was the play that I had predicted, and I was still bold to use my prerogative and say-1 told you so. It went against the grain with our stepmother, and as I continued to resent and criticize the affair, she made it hot for me, and during my remaining stay at home, I was miserable. Nothing of our real home was left to me but a sad memory.

-MY WINDUP-

I had no money, no clothes, no liberty and no opportunity. In our Carroll County farm, we had the big field next the house, the Hopper field, the Sigh Patch, the lower field and the little field below the barn. We worked all of it but I never did get any more money. I was getting to be a big boy. In modern times, I was big enough to be squinting at the girls. But I didn't try to go with them. I couldn't. It was too embarrassing for me to even be seen by the pretty things. Girls were looking interesting to me but thats all. I went to gatherings and looked on. I usually stood round behind some other boys or back in the dark, if it was night. Occasionally some pretty sweet girl that some big boy was with would squint her cute eye my way and say "Hello Alfred" but it was awful to know that was all I amounted to. t was snapped a time or two at parties. Then what? Well, I'm bound to admit that I never allowed a bid from a pretty girl to go unheeded. Why I just held my hand over the hole in my breeches and caught that girl. Then I had to snap and of course, I snapped the girl most congenial to me but I was mighty careful to keep my good side to her, and when she caught me, that let me out and I was glad to get back in the dark.

Them days boys, young men had to dress up to go with the girls. And, for that matter, the girls had to dress all over to go out. But now days boys can go with the best girls in the country with their collars open, their shirt tail out and their pants almost dragging. And the girls too, will now just try to see how much of themselves they can leave uncovered. Those days, no one would have been caught, girls or boys with only a bathing suit on. Girls didn't go in the water at all. In fact, there weren't such things as bathing suits. No decent girl, nor even a decent boy would not have thought of being in company with their naked legs exposed. The grown girls then wore long scarfs around their shoulders, and it would fly and wave as the girl ran, and if they had a drop of perfume on them, that was about the most attractive thing I had ever seen. Fact, to this day, I have never seen a style that had greater appeal for me. If I could have had a few dollars, or even a few cents, I could have been in the swim, without any perfume to obscure everything. But, we boys at home didn't know then that, when in Rome, do as Rome does. We did know that we had an indefinite time to abide and take what came. We had plenty sense and our manners were up to the average and while our dress was below par, the thing we lacked was money. Other boys who didn't have half as good home as we had, and even those who had no home at all, had plenty money. They could buy silk handkerchiefs, French harps, whisky and pistols, perfume and candy galore. But we couldn't go the gates. Just simply victims of misfortune and had to accept the situation. We had heard of other boys catching possums, coons and such and taking them to town and selling them. We hadn't thought much about that, but one day Luther and I were out in the forest and saw a big fat possum on a grape vine. We swung that vine till we shook him off and caught him. We thought now was our time to market a possum and get us some money. We cut a hickory sapling and chopt off about ten feet of it, split it in the middle enough to get the possum's tail in the crack. Thus Mr. Poor Sam was securely fastened on the pole, and with one end of the pole on Luther's shoulder and the other on mine, we took off for Maple Creek, a little town 4 miles away.

No one knew where we were. We intended to surprise the folks that evening with a lot of money. It was winter and the roads were veritable mud puddles. But we carried him all the way to Maple Creek and displayed him all over town, but found no buyer. We were tired, hungry and outdone. We turned Mr. Poor Sam loose in front of the store and it caused such commotion that the Town Authorities made us catch him and take him a mile out of town before we could turn him loose. That is ail we got out of that deal, except to wade back home thru the mud. That let us down pretty low but we didn't give up. We were bound to have some money. We were getting lots of eggs. We knew they would sell. We studied. Finally, we decided we would slip out some eggs of every batch we gathered up and hide them in a big hollow log down by the pasture fence. Eggs began to pile up down there and we were watching for a chance to go to town with some neighbor that might carry our eggs. We got no chance. We stored eggs till we had a hundred dozen and still no chance to market them. We became uneasy that they would spoil. Finally, being thoroughly convinced that the jig was up with us, we must get rid of the eggs some way. Finding the stepmother gone one day, we took them out, a basket full at a time, and could have thrown them in the creek or buried them and that would have been the last of it. But the temptation of throwing and bursting them was too great. So we had a throwing match. We didn't get far enough from the house, and when we bursted those rotten eggs there was an awful odor that filled the air for a long way. It reached the house, and when it was sniffed by the stepmother, investigations were made. We had lots of hopes, anxiety and fun over the venture, but couldn't possibly stir up an alabi. It was too openly plain on us to even try to get out of it, and just faced the music and took whatever was coming. That was a plenty. I was the oldest and usually, the leader, but I was, apparently, at my row's end. I couldn't get any money at home. There seemed to be no chance of selling commodities. There were no public works, and it just seemed I was doomed to drag along. I was getting big enough to feel somewhat mannish and to command some personal liberties. The stepmother was envious because I attempted to do things as Pa had done without asking her. I thought I ought to do something, but everything I went about, I was balled out for it. I had always despised quarreling. Pa didn't quarrel. Neither did my mother. There was no use of it. It has never served any good purpose to any one. But my stepmother, undoubtedly, enjoyed it. It got worse and worse and I resented rather than condone it. That too, inflamed. My station became shaky. I had made up my mind that I wouldn't take any more whippings. I couldn't get enough to eat. I couldn't sleep.

-LEAVING HOME-

One fateful day about first of October 1890, she ordered me to leave. I didn't say a word, but secretly arranged matters with Luther and Hugh L. I secreted my other old hickory shirt and my fuzzy breeches, that the others called my preserves, and tied them up in one of Pa's old worn out coats and intended to make my getaway by slipping out at the back door, but as I came round the house, I was headed off by my dear old step-mother, who seemed to have recanted, when she saw my pack, and wouldn't let me out at the front gate. I again submitted without a word. I took my rags back in the house. I had an idea. We had heard that Grand Ma Lovells were getting ready to go to Texas. Uncle Gladden Lovell had been in Texas several years going to school at Springtown, and he was back home winding up affairs to take the family. No one had thought of my idea. It was a secret. It was revealed to Luther and Hugh L. only. They were my conspirators and fell right in line on anything I suggested. Here is the idea - We would lay low and keep mum, but work up a visit for all of us to go to Grand Ma's before they got off for Texas. I would try to have Uncle Gladden take me to Texas with them. If it worked, I would not return home. If it failed, I would still not return home for Cousin William Small had just told me I could stay with him. In any event, I did not intend to return home. But now, how was I to secrete all my belongings so the scheme would not be detected this time. Well, another idea. I planned that, when the time came for us to start to Grand Ma's, I would put on my tother hickory shirt for an undershirt, use my everyday breeches for drawers and of course, wear my preserves, and may be, in the rush to get off, I would not be noticed. I had heard of other boys wearing under clothes and had actually seen a few with drawers on. Tom had been wearing them ever so long. It worked perfectly. When we all scampered around there, getting off to Grand Ma's, everything went like clock work precision. It was a great time in my life, but I knew that all would be well, only, that ended well. The day was set. All hands were on their guard. It was decided that Ada and Hugh L. stay home, for they had already been. Luther and I hitched up Jack and Fed to the wagon and we were off. I had it understood with Hugh L. that I had better not tell him and Ada goodbye.

That might have caused an explosion. But away we went to Grand Ma's, fifteen miles to drive and it took us half a day to make it. All that way and all that time, Luther and I were dumb. We had but little to say for fear of suspicion. We had a fine visit and everything and everybody was talked over. Soon after we arrived at Grand Ma's I saw Uncle Gladden drive into the horselot. I didn't lose any time. Luther and I ran down there to see him, and we didn't more than get thru with salutations, I couldn't wait. I popped the question right then and there. "Will you take me to Texas with you?" And Uncle Gladden said certainly. He didn't know things were so bad at home, but I told him to not let the stepmother know it. Pretty soon I saw Uncle Gladden whispering to the others around the house, something secret-like. I felt sure, then that everything was fixed, and it was. Early in the morning that we were to return home, Uncle Fuqua bade my folks goodbye, for he had to go to the field to gather corn. I got Luther off and gave him the final word, told him goodbye and went with Uncle Fuqua. When the roundup was made to return home, I wasn't there. Then, for the first time, the stepmother caught it. But the coupe was complete and it was too late for her. Everything had been cut and thoroughly dried. I was long gone. No more quarrels for me. No more was I to gaze upon the old plantation, its beauty and splendor and see everything go to the bad. I was altogether gone. I helped to do the work and finish up things at Grand Ma's for it was only a week till we should borad the iron horse and take our flight for the far off Lone Star State.

-GOING TO TEXAS-

Um It seemed too good to be true, but it was a reality.

Just one week and good old Tennessee was to be no more for me. I was counted as one of them, Grand Ma, Aunt Tennessee, Aunt Ellen, Aunt Eliza, Uncle Gladden, Uncle Fuqua and me. When we went to Chesterfieid to take the train, Uncle Gladden bought me a $5 suit and a $1.50 over coat. Think of me wearing an overcoat! Let me tell you, folks, I was stepping up. I could hardly notice anybody. I just hit the high places.

Tho, we were all sad, of course, leaving our old home and friends, but when Grand Ma's folks and I went to Chesterfield the day before we were to board the train and spent the night there with Dovie Dennison, I was feeling my importance, with a store bought suit and a sure-enough over coat, and when we slept into the train next morning, those fine train men with caps and uniforms on, I imagined, couldn't tell but that I had been on trains before, and never dreamed that I had on a hickory shirt for an under shirt and no drawers at all. Well, we loaded on, all of us carefully observing the great and beautiful coaches and the big choochoo as we filed in, each carrying a bundle, and Fuqua and I, each with a bushel basket of grub. It was the first choochoo any of us, except Uncle Gladden, had ever been on and the first one some of us ever saw. But we were all set and off for Texas. I didn't know whether our next meal would be in Texas or what. I thought, from the day that thing was running as it came thundering into Chesterfield that morning, it was a whizzer. It gently pulled out and we almost lost our breath as it gained speed and it went all the way to Jackson the first day. That was astounding to me, to go that far in a day. We spent the night in Jackson, waiting for another train that was to take us to Memphis. It rolled up next morning, a still bigger and finer train than the first one. We loaded on with our luggage, but Fuqua's and my load were lighter by several pounds. And we went all the way to Memphis that day and got there before night. Just think of it. To Memphis in two days. That was some stepping choochoo. It was November and the weather was very foul.

His experiences and observations - Written while living out at 4 section claim in Lipscomb County of the Panhandle near Canadian, Texas, 1901.


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