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					Memories of a Long Life


          By
     Mrs. Lucy Jane Williams



Transcribed by Mary Jane Sparks, 2005

     Additional Comments/Links
     added by Mel Harman, 2006
             TABLE OF CONTENTS



Comments by Mel Harman


3
Forward, My One Desire


4
Chapter 1, The Old Stage Horn


5
Chapter 2, Early Memories


8
Chapter 3, My First School Days

                                          14
Chapter 4, Some Religious Recollections

                         18
Chapter 5, Family Afflictions


22
Chapter 6, My Many Trials


29
Chapter 7, School Teaching and Later Memories

42
Index



54
            Personal notes & comments of Mel Harman:

 First, thanks to Mary Jane Sparks for transcribing Mrs. Williams’ book. It
  was a goal of mine for years, and I just never seemed to find the time, so I
  greatly appreciate her help in getting this project going.
 A copy of this book was received from Merry Alpha Gean-Gardner-Downs
  in 1991, and she herself did not have an original copy. If anyone has an
  original copy we would love to have a copy made using today’s Xerox/copy
  capabilities.
 Lucy Jane Gean-Williams was born 3 Aug 1840 and died 7 Mar 1934.
  There is no date of publication in the copy of the book that we have, however
  from information found in this book, the book was written/printed about
  1928/1929. This book was not a book of “Family History”, but instead was
  a book of different memories of hers. There is no doubt that Lucy was a God
  fearing woman, but her sense of humor and honor can also be seen
  throughout the book.
 There are several duplications of events in this book and it does not appear
  in chronological order, but seems to be put together as she developed the
  thoughts. However, its historical value cannot be over looked because of
  that.
 There are some people that we have not been able to determine her exact
  relationship to, but of those we have been able to identify, we have not found
  anyone that she claimed a relationship to that wasn’t related. This table of
  contents was not an original portion of the book. Nor, was the index at the
  end. Additionally, due to the differences in fonts the page numbers here are
  not the same ones used in her book. Because we were not able to find a
  format that would exactly replicate the pages as Mrs. Williams had them
  laid out, we did not start the chapters on a brand new page (unless they just
  fell that way).
 Unfortunately the copy we have is a copy, of a copy, of probably another
  copy, and we have not been able to get clear copies of them. This means
  that the pictures of Lucy Jane Gean-Williams, Cynthia Harmon-Gean and
  Albert Gean are horrible copies, but maybe someone has an original and
  doesn’t realize it, so we have included them.
 If there is an individual in the book that you have more information on
  please let me know at host@gean-ealogy.com.
                                   MY ONE DESIRE

       I do want to write a little of my life. In what I write I will surely not try to
harm the readers, if people do read the book. I do hope young girls, also boys, will
take the advice I give, for it is all given in a spirit of true love for their good here
and their happiness in the world to come. Listen to one who loves all the children.
I have taught school in different counties in North Carolina and in other states, and
have never taught a school but it was said by parents and children that they were
sorry for me to leave and they would love to have me come back. Since I have
been in the city of Durham I have made many friends, and many among the
children wherever I go, for I never refuse to speak kindly to any child anywhere
and say a word to little ones on the street. Sometimes I meet a child looking sad an
lonely, sometimes hopeful and gay. Never, dear children, speak a word to father or
mother but in a true and polite way, and when you are told or asked to do the
smallest little errand do not wait to be told the second time. Remember a good
father and mother will never leave or forsake you, and if you get in trouble, go to
mother for sympathy and advice. Never keep anything from mother even if you
have said or done some wrong. I am glad that I never kept anything from mother,
and it did her good. I never put any paint or rouge on my face nor used anything to
keep my hair from turning gray. I have put something on my face after taking a
bath if I expected to go out in the wind, but that was not often. I think sometimes I
will, but will forget to, not that I think it sinful but because I care so little about it.
                                   CHAPTER ONE


                           THE OLD STAGE HORN


      My father was raised in Orange County, and the place where I was raised,
south of Pittsboro, was on and near the public road, some would say the
Fayetteville or McQueen road. Anyway, it went to Fayetteville, and I heard an old
man, one that lived to be one hundred and sixteen years old, say he was a little
chap running around, so little he had on one loose garment, as he ran out to see the
red coats. I remember the old man but he has been dead many years, but I cannot
forget that old man and my childhood days after my father got a farm that would
make enough so that he could go with a load of flour to Fayetteville in the fall.
Sometimes there would be four to six wagons of his kinsfolk from Orange, it being
a good long drive to get to our house to camp, and we little children would hear the
―hello‖ and hardly ever fail to run. We loved to hear the bells ringing on the
hames [sic] of the two lead horses, there were two bells on each pair of horses, and
the driver did not have to pop his wagon whip and say ―get up,‖ but the horses
were so trained that when they were ready the two in front just gave their head a
shake and all started. Oh, such music! I do love good music, but I never expect to
hear any that sounds sweeter to me than the stage horn or the bells on the horses, or
the geese going south when cold weather was coming on. Even our mother would
go out to see them go by, they went all in a row, one right behind the other, all
singing and it was music, too, too good not to hear. Those days are all gone, never
to return.
      The Plank road was not built at that time, and there was but one railroad in
North Carolina, called the North Carolina, now the Southern. Morrisville was the
nearest depot or stopping place, and all the mail or people traveling that were
coming to Pittsboro or anywhere in the neighborhood from Morrisville came on a
stage coach drawn by four horses. It was closed up in cold weather and the driver
had a seat high up in front. He had a bugle horn, and most people would say,
―Stage is coming, I hear the horn.‖ Mr. Nelson Foushee was the man who was the
driver then. He came up what was then called the lower Raleigh road in the
evening and it seemed he knew about the time our school turned out at Moore‘s
schoolhouse. He would begin to blow his horn, and all the children cam running to
get out to the road or in sight so they could see Mr. Foushee and hear him blow his
horn. If we got out to the road and he saw us he would wave and commence
blowing, and no piano was ever as sweet to me or any of the children. He came
twice a week for years, and would spend the night in Pittsboro and go back what
was called the upper Raleigh road. Happy, happy days, never to be forgotten! Mr.
Foushee died some years ago in our neighborhood, and I often think these days
how pleasant he was and so cheerful. After a railroad was run to Pittsboro there
was no more of the stage coach, nor did we ever hear the horn blow. Mr. Foushee
lived in our part of the country, with his wife and four children, two sons and two
daughters. I taught a school near, not a public school, just a neighborhood school.
His children, or some of them, went; I visited his family and they all treated me
well. His wife, I thought, was a true, good woman. She died soon after I left for a
school in another part of the state, so I never saw him again. But I often wondered
if when all his traveling and work here was ended was he ready and could he hear
the roll call up yonder and could he answer as cheerfully as he once blew for us
little children? I hope he did. Both his sons died before he did.
                                   CHAPTER TWO


                              EARLY MEMORIES


      Well, I commenced to write some incidents of my childhood and young life.
I can tell of an incident I remember when I was only two years old; it seems as
clear as if it had happened but yesterday. The little log cabin is plain in my mind
now. My mother‘s brother (just next to her), from Elwood, Indiana, who had been
living there came to see my mother. I do not remember how long he had been
here. It was warm and I, a child, after dinner got sleepy. Sister Sallie put me on
mother‘s bed. It was a high post, called a teaster bed, with curtains that went to the
floor, with a trundle bed under it. Well, Uncle William [this is William Polk
Harmon] and mother were both crying as it was parting time. He said, ―I must tell
the baby goodbye.‖ He came and I remember he took me up in his arms, hugged
me to his bosom, kissed me two or three times with the tears running down cheeks.
About forty-eight years after he came back to North Carolina, Uncle Thomas [this
is Thomas Watts Harmon] and wife, one grandson, one niece and one nephew, and
spent perhaps five or six weeks. He agreed before they all left Indiana that he
would pay the railroad fare coming and going back, but when he got ready and said
go, that all must prepare to return. It was a sad parting. I never saw one of them.
Uncle William lived to be 91 or 92. Uncle Thomas lived to be 82. His half sister,
[this is Elizabeth J. Harmon-Boone-Smith] who went out there, married, had one
daughter how lived to be grown and married, and she was a widow the second time
they left Indiana and came to Philadelphia. She came back to North Carolina once.
I was off teaching, so never saw her again.
      When I was about three years old they told me I had a little sister. The one
next older was some seven or more years older. I thought it was grand to have a
little tiny sister, if we were in a log cabin. She was put to sleep in a little cradle,
and if she seemed to wake up I was taught to sit on the side, put my right hand on
the other side, and rock the cradle and sing ―Rock-a-by baby on the tree-top.‖
While I could not say a word that but few could tell at all, yet I did love to rock and
try to sing to my little sister. Of the two oldest living (the one oldest of all died
small), one was grown, the other 8 or 10 years, so perhaps some will imagine me a
happy child that winter. My father was preparing to build a house large enough to
have several rooms. My father and biggest brother were trying to get stables or a
shelter for the cow and horse which were saved when my father and family were
living in Pittsboro. My father was a jailor when I was a baby. Mother said she got
up to give me some tea as she though [sic] I had the colic. My father had gone
after a prisoner; she saw the light, thought it was he coming and the light was his
lantern. He was coming and saw it and gave the alarm, but they saved only what
was in the big front room. There were some men boarders; they, with my oldest
brother, hurried down when they heard the alarm, but as they saw it burning so fast
some one thought of brother William. A man got up there, took him in his arms
and just did get down as it fell in. Well, I know all this is not my life‘s history, but
I thought it would explain why were living in cabins. My father had agreed to buy
a small farm; only the two cabins were on it. Now I will leave that and try to go
back to my childhood days, and tell a little of my young days and middle age,
some bad and some good, some deeds bad and some good.
      The spring after I was two years old my father had gotten some lumber and
had some workmen framing or putting up some part of the house. I do not
remember all the men‘s names, but after the frame was up and the cover on, I can
remember so well the work bench of Mr. Simon Webster and his oldest son. The
sleepers had been laid, and one Sunday several neighbor girls were there and were
all trying to see who could walk the sleepers and not fall off. My big brother, (I
could not say brother Thomas; I‘d say bud Tommie) petted me to anything [this is
Thomas W. Gean]. He had made me a little mallet, and I was sitting on one of the
sleepers hitting the one in front with my mallet. One of the big girls wanted me to
get off so she could walk, but I was both stubborn and selfish, and did ugly. I hit
her as she tried me again; I hit her with my mallet. Sister Sallie took my mallet,
put it in the fork of a little bush in the yard. My grandfather had his hand on the
bush, bending it down, his knife open to cut id down. Father saw him and asked
him not to cut id down; he wanted it to stay and be a big tree for him to sit under
the shade. My grandfather, laughing, said to my father that he would never live to
see it make a shade big enough; but he did and sat many hours in its shade. It was
30 feet around the bottom long before father died, and he has been dead more than
51 years. Last year I measured it and the one at the lower gate. They both
measured more than 35 feet. I‘ve done many little things that did not make me the
good child my mother wanted me to be, but I am so glad that I can say truthfully
that I never spoke one word back when she said do or go. I loved my mother too
truly and deeply to disobey.
      Mr. Webster and Mr. Thom had their work Bench, they had planes to make
the plank smooth to make the floor. They would put me on the work bench, and
when they had some long shavings they would put some on my head for me to
have some curls, and then sometimes they would lift me down for me to go let my
mother see me. Well, after the house was so we could get in it, the little cabin was
used to cook and eat in until we got several rooms done and furnished and the
cabins fixed up for some colored people. I was a girl old enough to go to school
when my father had good oak logs cut and had a great big house built so a good
colored woman could have her bed and some other furniture in it, and two colored
children. Father had two large rooms built as an ell on the west side of our
dwelling and had a chimney put to the room farthest from the main part of the
living and sleeping rooms. There were two looms, two or three spinning wheels; it
was called the working room. Weaving and spinning was almost daily music to
hear. I loved the work and during the Civil War I did lots of work to make
blankets for our soldier boys in camps, and many of them never returned, some
that were near and dear to me, and some mother had a boy that was dear to her
heart that never came back, no could she ever see his grave, for many were buried
on the battlefield; some were sent back. I had one cousin who was noble and true,
take prisoner at Gettysburg, died in Point Lookout, New York and one of our near
neighbors, Mr. Jake Womble, also died and was buried out there.
         Well, I must leave my happy childhood days and come on to girlhood, when
I was learning to card and spin, then on to the loom. I was so glad when I could
get the treadle so I could make the figure that was called ladies diamond with four
treadles. I was as proud as the little girl with her new red dress that I heard about
when I was child, but it was true.
         I wove to make men‘s clothes called jeans, with three treadles, for a man
from London, England, who had come to our land, and it was during the war
between the North and the South. They were wealthy and well educated. I went to
the lady‘s home and was treated well, with all due respect, not as a servant of low
caste.    I have found some good, true people among the wealthy and highly
educated, but I never tried to push myself on them, but I tried to behave as a lady,
not be forward. I have never been in any part or any county but somebody treated
me kindly, and I do try to speak kindly to all I meet. I feel it is best. Even today I
went out on the street just for a little errand, and saw a dog which looked sad and
lonesome; I spoke to him and he jumped up and rand around and back to me in a
playful way. Such is life, even a kind word to a dog is not lost. Now as I am
writing I feel sad at heart and try to ask my dear loving Saviour to let the people,
mothers and fathers, to be gentle and kind to all, to their own children especially,
but to be firm when they tell a child to do a think, if it is only to sit down or get up
or pick up a spool or anything else, but, mother, mother be loving and kind! I love
all the little children – well, I love big folks, too – and I do want to see people kind
one to another, everywhere I go. Now as I have been writing on being kind I will
say that I have been in a home where there were sisters that spoke unkindly one to
another. I tried to speak in a gentle voice but I fear I did not, for I spoke short
when I heard one child speak in such an impolite tone to their mother that I forgot
to keep my mouth shut. I was sorry and tried to pray.
      Many years ago I was left by myself when I was through my day‘s work. I
did not want to stay all night by myself, and no one lived in hearing, so I went to
spend the night with a near neighbor. The woman had a grandson that she and the
boy‘s aunt, or his mother‘s half sister, had taken. That boy just wanted to go and
come as he pleased. He did not come until his grandmother had fed the mule (the
live on the farm), milked the cow, got supper, and eaten. She fixed his supper. He
soon went to bed, and the next morning she had done the chores and we had eaten
breakfast when he got up. I fixed up the bed; his grandmother was sweeping the
floor where he had brought in trash and mud. She had right much swept up, and
just to fret her he went and kicked the trash back over where she had swept. I
turned to him and said, ―If I were you grandmother I‘d bread a chair over your
head or I‘d give you a bruised head.‖ He just ran up to me, stuck his face up to
mine and said, ―Ha, ha, you do it.‖ When he did I gave him all the strength of my
right hand – it wasn‘t broken then. He acknowledged that it taught him a lesson he
never forgot.
                                 CHAPTER THREE


                          MY FIRST SCHOOL DAYS


      I will now write about my first school days. We were allowed to go at five
years old to a free school, and it was mostly taught in summer. My father had but
two boys and (one of them was grown when I can first remember him) I had one
sister older and one younger than myself; we three girls had our hoes to chop in the
corn; so during the school term we would be out two or three weeks before we
would get the chopping over to go back to school. Howe gland when we got over
and went back to school, yet I loved farm work and love it yet. Have never been
ashamed that I was taught to work, to cook, was and milk.
      Well, I attended the common school, but not for long. The first teacher I
ever went to was Miss Eliza Bynum, the oldest daughter of Mr. Joseph Bynum, the
good man who started the first Sunday school in the Moore schoolhouse after Mr.
Joseph Bynum gave the land to build a church, Mt. Zion. She was a good teacher.
I was a little child. I loved her and tried to mind in every way. Then came
another. She was an old maid, wore a wig. I thought that was the queerest thing.
She was said to be a right good teacher, but I did not love her as I did Miss Eliza,
yet she never struck me. An old man had the school for a short time, but he would
go to sleep and some of the boys just cut up and played pranks. He did not teach
very long. Miss Lizzie Moore came and I think every child loved her.
      After two full terms I was in history, geography, arithmetic, and first
grammar. Dictionary was one study I did not miss. Janie M. Clegg and myself
had not missed a word in some weeks; she was at head and I was second. Her
mother and sister had come on a visit from Orange County, as they were preparing
to leave North Carolina. A colored girl came after Miss Janie to go home, as her
aunt and her husband never expected to come back to our land. Well, then, that
was why I was at the head, but Janie came back. She had to go foot, that was the
rule, but she was a good speller and it was not long before she stood next to me,
but I never missed one word. We were preparing for a big time at the close. A girl
some three or four years older than I begged me to let her go head that last day.
She thought she would get me to exchange places with her. ―Now, Lucy, if you
will I will give you a gold finger ring,‖ but no sir, her gold ring did not get me to
give up my place, I was only about ten or eleven, and it was there I acted my first
dialogue and my part was a temperance part. We had odd fellows, freemasons,
juniors.
      Well, the last day came, and it was a great day, but not one person is living
that was there during the school or attended the closing exercises, male or female,
but the one who is doing this writing, and I am hoping to live to write some little
incidents of what happened when I went to school and after I was teaching.
      Mr. Thomas Harris, Mr. David Clegg, Mr. Luther Clegg, Mr. And Mrs.
Wright, and some other people, got timber and built a house; the playground was
on the edge of my father‘s land. The house had two rooms with a chimney at each
end, half way between a partition, so the teacher could have a view of each. An
educated lady from Syracuse, New York, came not only well up in a knowledge of
the books, but she had the gift to understand children. Her plan of training the
little ones was wonderful, not only in the books, for she would try to teach us all to
sit correct and to walk with arms and shoulders erect for the sake of good health.
All her talking was in a quiet, subdued voice. She spent some years, and our love
and confidence were as true when she left us as at the first term. She was teaching
when the war commenced between the North and the South. There were two
companies made up in Chatham, one was called the Chatham Rifles, and a squad it
was called, about 30 in number, came out all dressed in their uniform. They
marched around, then came to a halt and faced each other. We girls all, two by
two, marched and presented each of the soldiers with a bouquet of flowers. We
had a table and dinner, my father built the table and had a shoat barbecued. Miss
Mary J. Brooks was our teacher‘s name, and she named the school ―Woodville
School.‖ Well, as she was raised in New York and all her people lived there, she
went back North but was some time getting home‖: after Lee surrendered. All
seemed to be as before she left, she wrote me, and encouraged me not to give up,
nor did I. I had been through an examination, got a certificate to teach a public
school at Hopkins, a schoolhouse built on the road that was called the main or
public road that ran from the little town of Haywood to the coal mine. When the
state was voting for a capital, Raleigh only had one more vote than Haywood,
many said, as it was right where Deep River and Haw River run together. Rocky
River runs into Deep River, New Hope into Haw River, just below the two run
together and make the Cape Fear.
      My first school at Hopkins in the fall of 1864, but as I did not commence
until late, and stopped for Christmas and did not commence until some weeks had
passed, the weather was very disagreeable.       One old grandmother living in
Greensboro said that she went to school to me there and that was all that she ever
went. One old woman now living in Sanford, two old men in Chatham County are
about all of forty that I can find living, but there are many children and
grandchildren living whose parents attended my school. I feel thankful that I often
meet up with men and women now with grown children that I taught some forty,
fifty, or sixty years ago. All seem so pleased to see me and can go back in memory
to their childhood days that I am now in my eighty-eighth year and am able to walk
around, can see to read and write some and so some little work, but I feel now that
I am getting weak and cannot hold out much longer so I am writing to leave
something for perhaps the young people to read when I am gone Home. I want the
young girls and boys also, to please take the advice of an old woman who loves
them. I try to pray that God will be their guide, and that all may ever trust
MOTHER. Go to her with all your troubles and if she is a true, good mother, one
that has the Bible as her guide, she will not advise you wrong. I am glad that I
never got a letter from a young man that my Mother did not read, nor did I write
one that she did not read; and I feel so much better that I can say with not a blush
that I never did speak one word back to my Mother. I am sorry that I spoke back
to my father once, when I was eighteen or nineteen years old, but he gave mea slap
that almost turned me around. He did right, but he accused me of doing something
he had forbidden. I had not, and he learned that later that I had not, so I say to
parents was well as children to try always to have a knowledge of what was said or
done before verdict is passed.
                                  CHAPTER FOUR


                   SOME RELIGIOUS RECOLLECTIONS


      When I felt that my sins had been all forgiven in my Saviour‘s blood, I felt
that I wanted to go to tell the poor heathen of God who so loved the world. I soon
found that I did not have the education, and it would cost more than my parents
could afford. Some of the wealthiest and best of the Pittsboro people talked
together. They felt like I would do good work if I could, and several of the people
purposed to pay my expenses. My mother was in Pittsboro. Mr. J.J. Jackson‘s
wife called her in and told her if she could dress me (they all wore uniform in those
days) they would help me. My mother was surprised, and came home and told me.
Well, I did not go about to tell it, nor did any of my people from home, but the
news got out ―Lucy Gean‘s going to college.‖ I had some kind that had been
envious of me. I was just in my teens but I had learned to work, and I was not
afraid nor ashamed to be seen cooking, washing, milking, or chopping. There was
a young man who lived in the neighborhood going around talking about what the
women had made in gardens, so he came to our house and asked my mother how
much she made in her garden. I remember she told him she had 18 bushels of Irish
potatoes. He said, with a kind of slur, ―You don‘t mean 18 bushels.‖ She said, ―If
you don‘t believe it you had better go measure them.‖ After awhile he asked for a
drink of water, and mother told me to go bring him a drink. I went and brought it
(we used gourds in those days). He said, with a slur, ―Well, Lucy, I hear you are
going to college; do you think you could get a diploma there? ha, ha!‖ It stunk me.
I said, ―Yes, sir, I thank you. I already have two.‖ ―Who gave them to you?‖ ―My
mother gave me one in the cook pot and my daddy gave me one in the cornfield.‖
Mother spoke to me about snapping him up so, but if I was no more than a child I
had had some raising.      My mother had always told me to speak polite to
everybody, but my temper sometimes is like a match, just strike it, if you don‘t
hear the pop you can see a blaze. I know I was trained, or was tried to be, to use
politeness, but with my pride and temper it is not for me to take a slur, or was not
in those days. For the last few years I have been praying that I would not say
anything in a short or crabbed voice, but to speak in a gentle and kind tone. I have
found it best, and am praying every day, not only every day but every hour, and yet
sometimes I find it hard to be under a guard so true.
      The North Carolina Annual M.E. Conference was held in Pittsboro. I was
but a child. I know it was the last ever held there for it got to be so large that
Pittsboro was not thought to be able to support it. Well, the people came in
wagons, buggies, very few carriages in those days, most of the preachers came in
buggies, a few on horseback. My father took several horses to feed and tend to.
Well, on Sunday, as I was to go, the Methodist Church was so crowded the aisle
had chairs, my mother in one, I sat in her lap. Bishop George F. Pierce was in the
stand. I remember just how he looked, his hair white, parted on the left and
combed back or up, his full face as he opened his Bible and his text, I have never
forgotten, and many words that he said during his sermon I‘ve never forgotten. I
know I was small, but I love to think of the man, the text and the sermon. If I did
or said something wrong my mind went back to Bishop Pierce and his sermon in
the Methodist Church in Pittsboro.
      After leaving Pigs Branch, which was near Bear Creek Baptist Church in
upper part of Chatham, I taught several months a few miles up north. A man, Mr.
Brooks Burke by name, had known several years I had faith in his being a good
man. He proposed a Sunday school so we formed one. Then he suggested a
meeting. I invited a good humble man, a local preacher, Rev. Mr. Johnson, to
preach. I closed my school. The meeting lasted eight days. We had two sermons
a day and dinner in the yard. It was a great success for many that had almost given
up as lost were converted. I did go around and asked for a little money to pay the
preacher, but since the preacher refused to take but a few dollars I gave the rest to
Mr. Brooks Burke to start a church, as Bear Creek was about three and a half miles
south. I knew that most of the people were Baptists, or of some similar faith. It
was not long before we had the church built. I think all were proud of it. I called
my school ―Sandy Pond,‖ but when the church was finished it was called ―Sandy
Branch.‖ I attended the association which was held there, commencing the 23 rd of
September 1927. Many mean and women with families had not forgotten me.
They seemed glad to see me alive, for it had been sixty years since I taught. Most
of the older people and those who attended my school were gone.
      After dinner I noticed some men digging a grave, so I went on in church. A
casket was brought in and opened. I went to the casket and in it lay the body of
little Johnnie Emmerson, who went to me for his first schooling, the only one of
the family that was living.
      Well, I cannot write of the few years that I have been in the town of
Durham, N.C. I could not get the education to go to foreign fields so I have done
some home-work since I was given the work as a missionary in my native country.
If anyone wants to know of my life here go to the Wright Refuge in Durham, or
any poor, destitute widow or orphan and to the different orphanages in North
Carolina.
                                  CHAPTER FIVE


                           FAMILY AFFLICTIONS


      I visited Mrs. Edwards, a widow, who had six children and was a dear, good
woman. She told me whenever I came to Raleigh to come to her house and make
it my home. Well, I did. Her oldest son, C.B., the head or chief man of the
Biblical Recorder office; the second son W.J., lived in Oxford; then two sisters,
Bettie and Ida. We were classmates, and loved each almost as sisters. Well, Bettie
was taken sick, I was sent for, I went and she did not want me to leave. I spent
about three weeks. She did not want me to leave, saying that she felt she was
going to die and that she did not want anyone but me to was and dress her, and she
told me what she wanted me to put on her. I never left her long at a time, just to
take a nap and eat. She seemed so happy, it was good to be there. I was holding
her hand, her brother, W.J., seemed so devoted to her, and as he saw she was most
gone, he just dropped on his knees by her bed and cried out, ―Bettie, Bettie, speak
one more word, and to me.‖ It seemed as if I saw her spirit go upward as she said
―At Home.‖ I felt she had entered Heaven, the gloryland. After I had her dressed
for her long sweet sleep, I went into another room to bathe my face. Ida came in,
put her arms around me with her head on my shoulders, and with tears in her eyes
said, ―You be my sister, I‘ve no other but you.‖ Well, the brother that knelt by
Bettie and saw her breathe her last lived about ten years, and had a wife and three
little girls. His wife sent for me, and I was by his bed when he died. I wrote some
verses in memory of Bettie‖


       Lines in Memory of Miss Bettie Edwards, Dedicated to her Mother,
                       Sister and Brothers, by a Classmate
                   My dear, loved Bettie, and can it be
                         That thou art gone to thy home on high.
                   Thy face, thy form, no more shall we see
                         Till we join thee above the bright blue sky?


                   Sweet converse now we‘ll hold no more,
                         No earth bright flowers for us will bloom,
                   For many hearts are sad and sore
                         Since thou art laid in thy quiet tomb.
                   Sad is the mother you loved so well,
                         Thy brothers dear, by sorrow riven,
                   Thy sister‘s heart with grief doth swell,
                         But, blessed thought, we‘ll meet in heaven.


                   Shed tears for the living, not for the dead,
                         Said a good old friend, one sad, sad day,
                   For pain and sorrow are now all fled
                         Out of that casket of beautiful clay.


                   Now oft in days that are past and gone
                          We have walked together the pleasant street,
                   And talked of friendship, budding flowers,
                          And our teacher‘s smile we loved to greet.


                   Our classmates dear, Oh! where are they
                          Who joined with us, the music to swell?
                   Out in the world – they can never know
                          How much I loved them, and how well.


                   Farewell, my dear, departed friend,
                          My mournful task is almost done;
                   Eternity, I hope, we‘ll spend
                          With Jesus, thy Saviour, in heaven our home.


      Well, I got news ere I left Mrs. Edwards‘ to come home. The people of
Providence wanted me to teach a school, so I came and spent about five months
teaching. Rev. John Tillet was pastor of the Pittsboro Circuit and had a meeting of
about two weeks in the church. The schoolhouse, was, we could say, in the church
yard, so my school was stopped during the revival. It was a good time. My father
came and took such an interest that he said he felt he was willing to give up his life
of sin and do better. Well, in the fall brother J. B. Mansfield was living at the
Governor Manley place, superintending a farm out east of Raleigh; Sister Ann
wrote to me and I went; in November I had another little niece come. Well, after
Christmas Father came and brother Jimmie Johnson. I came back and brought
Walter and Wilbur with me [Ann did have a son named Walter Mansfield, but I am
not sure if Wilbur was hers, or who’s. She did have two sons that had the middle
initial W. and I don’t know what it stood for. Wilbur was not the son of Jimmie &
Sarah Johnson.]. Early in March Father‘s last and only sister died [this is Martha
Gean-Knight]. Not long after her death, as he was coming home, a neighbor that
lived on the road was having a log rolling; he asked my father to stop, said he did
not want him to do anything but just look on. It was on Friday, and a cold, piercing
wind was blowing. The man‘s little son came to my father and said, ―I want to sit
close up to you, it is so cold.‖ Well, father told him that it was so cold he would
get on home, so he came, and told me to get something and rub his jaw, that it was
almost like toothache. I rubbed his throat and gave him something to gargle.
Saturday he said after breakfast that he would go over to Pittsboro. Sister Maggie
had been brought home from Hickory Mountain sick, and sister Mary had been
confined some time. Well, father got home a little before night. The dining room
had fallen in so we did not use it. I was cooking in the kitchen, which was off from
the house. I got the supper; my two sisters could not get out, and father said he did
not feel like going. I brought their supper to all three, while the little boys and
myself ate in the kitchen. Well, not much did I or any of them sleep that night.
Sunday morning I got up, had a cow to milk and then get breakfast. If the little
boys had not been so quiet and good I do not know how I would have done. I did
what I could, and it was bed time Sunday night ere I had time to get my Bible.
When I did I sat down by father‘s bed and opened my Bible, not thinking only to
read my Bible. Well, I read that if I went through fierce trials the deep waters will
not overflow, etc. I had read only a few verses when father wanted me to get up
and fix his pillow and do something for his throat; and both sisters to be waited on.
I did not count the boys. Well, sister Sallie, her husband and four boys lived near,
so I sent for her to come and take charge of the kitchen and do what she could. If I
opened my Bible to read in a month I do not remember it; but I would go from
room to room, fix beds, etc., or any call obey, but I held to the promise the flames
should not devour or the waters overflow. Oh, the comfort I had as I went in and
out, up and down the steps. I first had them in my mind and heart, but two or three
days after I had the doctor sent for and the people learned of my trouble and how it
was, and not a day or night for a time but some one came with help and sympathy.
My father was in a bad fix, and it had been two weeks and perhaps a few days over
that I had hardly lain down, and there were so many around in both rooms, my
father in one, both sisters in the same room. A neighbor girl was there for us, to
attend up stairs, so I went; had not gone to sleep before cousin Henry Knight (a
dear, good man, one that was faithful from the first to the last—I shall ever love
and cherish his memory) came upstairs calling me, asking where to find some
underwear (he wore flannel in winter), saying Uncle Albert‘s underclothes were
real bloody. I told him where he would find some in a drawer. There was no one in
the room, it being early in the morning. Father called me, said to fix his pillow. I
found his hands and some of his clothes were smeared with blood. I spoke as
gently as I could. He gave a spring and off the bed. I did what I could, got him
back, and went out. Brother Jimmy Johnson was there with two mules and the
wagon to go for wood (a two-horse load being burned in a day and night); I said,
―Go for the doctor.‖ He did. Dr. McClenhan and Dr. Lucian Hanks both came
while I happened to be on the porch. Dr. Hanks made no stop, but passed in; Dr.
McClenhan stopped and asked me had I found where the blood came from. I told
him I had, and when I told him where he threw both hands above his head and said,
―My God!‖ Well, I felt that it was serious. My father [Albert Gean] died the fifth
night of April, 1877 (Thursday), and was buried Saturday. My younger sister
[Mary A. Gean] died just twelve days after. Sister Maggie, who was next younger
than I, was so low that for some time we were very careful. When she got able to
ride she was carried to Aunt Nancy Mattox [nee - Nancy C. Harmon] ‘s so I could
get everything straightened up. A good colored woman, one I believe honest, Terry
Farrow, came and for two or three days we were in and out, upstairs and down, but
in a few weeks I got things so I felt like I could rest. Dr. Moore, whose people
lived in Pittsboro, would come out and spend awhile as a friend. He was a little
man and had a foot so small he said all the socks he got were too large. Well, I
took great pains spinning and preparing some thread—I love the work—and when
I would sit down from heavy work I would knit, so I knit a pair of socks just large
enough for my foot. Dr. Moore saw them and offered to buy them. I made him a
present of them and was well paid to see how he did appreciate them. He would
talk as a brother or friend; he said for me to go off and get with some young people
and try to cheer up, saying that I was not so strong and really needed rest, although
I was not really sick. I went over in Moore County; Mr. Neal Tyson‘s family
invited me to their house. His wife was a Boon, first cousin of Uncle John Boon. I
spent five weeks with that family the first summer the Lemon Springs was opened
for the public. Uncle Jehu Boon, Mrs. Lois Womble and Miss Sallie Johnson came
and spent a few weeks at the springs; they were the first visitors that came for their
health. I went a few times, made my home at Mr. Tyson‘s; they were all just as
good and kind to me as any could be. Several times if I felt rather weak some one
would bring some of the water over. With the rest and the water I was much
improved. I taught school a short while in the neighborhood, boarding at my cousin
Thomas Harrington‘s, and found some true, good friends. Well, J. B. Mansfield
had moved up to a place he had bargained to buy, where brother William built on,
as he could not get any land adjoining. He rented my place for five years, he and
family moving there. He died ere the five years were out, but he made good while
he was there. His oldest son worked out awhile and then went to school, as he
could pay his way until he got far enough to stand examination and was given
license to preach. The family broke up, thinking they could do better at public
work. James Johnson, my brother-in-law, was dead; Sister Sallie, his widow, with
four boys, lived in the house by the spring, so I told them they could stay if they
would tend the land and take care. They all left, moving to the house where Sister
Ann and family left to go to Durham.
                                   CHAPTER SIX


                              MY MANY TRIALS


Well, I taught a school in the upper part of Moore County, N.C. The schoolhouse
was near Fair Promise M. E. Church. Rev. W. F. Clegg was the pastor on that
circuit. The people in the neighborhood wanted a school, and their pastor told them
from the pulpit that he had known me all my life (I was raised nearby), so I was
engaged. The people were all just as kind as I could ask, even more so. Uncle Bob
Phillips, as he was called by many, married Uncle Edward Gean‘s widow
[Milberry Groce-Gean-Phillips], my father‘s baby brother. He and Aunt Milberry
told me that they would give me my board and bed free. Aunt would do my
washing rather than let me do it on Saturday. It was winter and about a mile from
their home to the schoolhouse, but I did not mind the walk. Rev. Louis Phillips,
younger brother of uncle Bob, lived so near the church the preaching and singing
could be heard. He and his wife, with a maiden sister, three daughters and his son
and his wife, all lived in the house, yet they told me to come and stay. I would be
so near that even in rain or snow I could get there without danger. Well, I went,
and oh, they were all so kind. There old Mrs. Betsey Womble, a widow with a
grandchild, wanted me to come and board with her. She did not live more than half
a mile, and would give me board and washing. I did hate to leave them, for I will
say I have boarded in a great many families, but that is one in which I never did
hear one unkind word. Well, I went to board with Mrs. Womble. Her
granddaughter, she said, was not as quiet as she wanted her to be, and she felt that
if I would I could be a help to her granddaughter and a comfort to her, as she was
too old and feeble to watch over her. They all, even Aunt Caroline, the colored
woman, seemed anxious to wait on me. I had always loved to make up rhymes, so I
got the names of all the scholars, boys and girls, rhymed them and set them to a
tune, and wrote a copy for every family. We practiced singing the tune until all
could sing it so well that when I closed the session I had some pieces spoken and
the song sung by all standing in a circle, and it was complimented. If I could
remember all the children‘s names I would try to write it again, for I would be
willing to pay fifty cents, yes, one dollar, for it. Well, when my session ended and I
came home it was in summer. My father had planted cotton, but it was hard to get
anyone to chop, so he asked me if I would chop in his cotton. I went out and it was
not long ere I had queer feeling, and I went into the house. ―Well,‖ father asked
me, ―are you too proud to chop cotton for your father?‖ It hurt my feelings, so I
went back and it was not long ere two came. I do not know where some one saw
me fall or how it was, but I had a sunstroke, and it was quite awhile ere I was so I
could get out or do but little at all. My eyes and all my face were so swollen that
some of my friends who, having heard that I had come home, had come to see me,
said they did not know me. Father had Dr. John Hanks to come, and he told father:
―You had better have lost every stalk of cotton than for her to lose her eyes, which
she may, but we will do all we can to save them.‖ I cannot tell my suffering, but I
am so thankful I got all right. I wore glasses for my eyes for quite awhile after I
was so I could get about and do almost any kind of work.
      Well, for quite awhile I did not try to teach but went about to stay with my
married sister and children, for perhaps a year, then I got a school on a public road
that went to Harper cross roads not very far from Bear Creek church. The
schoolhouse was called Pig‘s Branch. That was in January. While teaching there I
first boarded at Mr. Jesse Glasson‘s, who married a cousin; then, it being near, I
boarded with a widow, Mrs. Martha Evans, a dear, good woman; her five children
were in school under me and they all were true. I do not remember that I ever had
a switch or that I ever needed one. Well, I did not stay idle long; I went right over
to Sandy Pond, a mile up north from Major Dunlap‘s. Mr. Brooks Burke lived right
near the schoolhouse. It was 3 ½ miles north of Bear Creek Baptist Church, about
three miles south of Reeve‘s Chapel, so Mr. Burke said let‘s have a Sunday school.
He was a good singer, I truly believe a true, good man, so we had Sunday school. It
was not but a few months ere he, with others, was greatly interested, and we soon
built a brush arbor and a rough stand and acted a dialogue and had some speaking
and singing. Then in a month or so Mr. Burke proposed tome to have a protracted
meeting. The arbor and stand were all there, so I went down to my home near
Pittsboro, nearly 20 miles. Col. James Reeves saddled his horse, so I went down
home Saturday morning as there was to be a baptizing at Uncle Isaac Clegg‘s mill
pond, and I could get some word to a local preacher. Mr. Burke said he would have
Sunday school in the afternoon, not turn out until four o‘clock, give me time to get
back, was just coming out as I rode up with the news that a preacher would be here
to spend a week. The preacher came on Saturday afternoon and was at my
schoolhouse to preach at 11 o‘clock. Mr. James Reeves, Mr. Dunlap and all the
people around attended, and some from Mt. Vernon Mineral Spring. The meeting
went on for eight days, with two sermons a day, and a Baptist preacher, Uncle
Billy Lineberry, came one day. There were a great many who found Jesus, some
old and gray-haired and some dear little ones. I made up some money and gave the
preacher some who spent a week, and gave Mr. Burke somewhere in the teens of
dollars to build a church. In a few years there was a nice one built. I went to the
association there that opened the 28th of September, 1927. It had been 57 or 58
years since I had taught there. Some old men with grown children were there to
give me a welcome, and they did.
      The State Normal School was held in Chapel Hill for several years. I
attended for four or five years and felt that I was benefited. One of my neighbor
girls did not believe in them at all, and she was looked upon as being truly
sanctified. She would not go. One summer while I was there she made a visit to her
mother‘s people. One of her cousins proposed to go over to Chapel Hill and see
how it was over there. Well, she met me soon after she got there, and after passing
a few words she said, ―Well, Lucy, have you learned anything since you have been
here?‖ I said, ―Yes, I have learned one thing well.‖ ―What have you learned?‖ she
asked. I replied, ―I have learned that I knew nothing when I came.‖
      When I came home Uncle Jimmie Harmon sent over to know if I would go
up to his son-in-law‘s, whose wife and her four children were all down with
typhoid fever, two doctors there every day and not a nurse, white or black, could
they get anywhere [this was the family of Johnson Clark and his wife Elizabeth
“Lizzie” Harmon]. ―If we cannot get Lucy we will have to give up,‖ they said. I
said I would go, got a valise and put in a change of clothes. Uncle Jimmie drove
up in his jersey, so I got in and he carried me. It was about ten miles. When we
arrived Dr. Stroud was there. I think he was there every day, and Dr. Lucian Hank
right often. Well, I spent several weeks. Only one woman was in the house.
Cousin Lizzie Clark was not able to nurse her baby, so I took it and had to prepare
food and feed it. I did the best I could for all for several weeks; not a night did I
undress to lie down. I had given Cousin Lizzie a change when I could. I noticed on
Friday that she seemed weaker. I asked her if she could turn over or raise up so I
could bathe her and put on a clean change. She said she would try, and she did. I
got a basin of water and gave her a bath the best I could and put a clean gown on
her. She seemed so weak that I felt uneasy, and I went and got an old colored
woman to come and sit up with me. Not a person, white or black, had ever spent
one night; Mrs. Dixon, the only woman that had been in the house, having spent
one evening. The colored woman would not sit on the side next to the bed. I did
get her to hold the baby for me to turn Cousin Lizzie. I felt that she was failing.
Well, just about twelve o‘clock, a whippoorwill commenced to holler or sing. The
old woman said, ―Listen, did you ever hear anything like that?‖ She knew
something was going to happen; it is common for colored people to look for
something. Well, that was Friday night. Saturday morning her husband had gone to
mill, about three miles, the colored man was in the field with two mules plowing. I
told one of the little boys to run to the field and tell Uncle Ed [this should be
Lizzie’s brother John Edward?] to come as quickly as he could, and one of the
other little boys to run up and tell Mrs. Pheba Barefoot to send me some mustard
seed, your mother is bad off. I told the colored man to go for Mr. Clark quick as
you can. I got back to the bed and she was sinking fast. She begged me to get the
phlegm out of her throat. ―Please don‘t let me strangle to death.‖ I stood right by
her bed and did all I could, but she was so near gone that she could not speak when
her husband got to the bed. Cousin Isaac Womble was at the mill. He came right
on, but got on his horse, went to Pittsboro, and came back soon with goods to make
a burial robe. Well, I sent to three houses, and not one person could I get to come
and help me dress her body. I sent to get some women to make the robe; three
came, two old ones and one young girl, but I had to carry the machine out through
the hall to the front porch, so they went to work, and I went in a back room and lay
down. Well, Dr. Stroud came. He asked for me and they told him I was lying
down. I heard him. He said, ―Just where I expected to find her.‖ He came into the
room, my head was next to the door, and as he came he laid a hand on my head.
As he came around he sat down, took hold of my hand and felt my pulse. He felt
uneasy for far I had gotten fever. I told him I was only jaded, but he said he was
going to give me some medicine, which he did. In about three weeks the baby boy
died, and two weeks later the second girl, 10 years of age, died. Isaac was very
low. Sunday when they were going out with his mother a corpse, he just burst out
crying, saying, ―Everybody going to leave me by myself to die.‖ I went and knelt
down by his bed (on a low bedstead), and said, ―No, Isaac, I am going to stay with
you.‖ Well, he was so glad that he threw both arms around my neck (he was but a
little boy), and cried. I did all I could to console the child, and when they got home
from church, where she was buried, he seemed better. I spent a few weeks. The
people in the neighborhood wanted me to teach a school, say two or three months,
until cotton opened as the children had to go to picking. Well, by staying and
waiting on the sick I barely got four weeks, but I did not complain. I felt that God
would not let me lose my reward; if lost here, I will receive it in heaven. I had
never made a charge.
      Some time after that year, I had my right hand hurt and I had an offer to sell
some Sunday school song books from Aldine Keiffer, Va. I went around some and
sold a book, ―Talks to Children About Jesus.‖ I was in Pittsboro the latter part of
December. There came a big snow, but a little boy whom Uncle Luther Clegg had
taken to raise, came to where I was, on a horse, and said that Mr. Rufus Clegg sent
him to find me. He told me to come, his wife was bad off and wanted me. I got on
the horse, the little boy behind me. She was in a queer fix. Dr. H. P. Chaffin and
Dr. Willie Meaden both came and did all they could but finally sent to Person
County for her brother, Dr. Ralph Baynes. He came, making three doctors in all.
After the examination it was proposed that she be carried to the hospital. Dr.
Baynes went back home to prepare to come and carry her. He came the 20th of
February, and the next morning some of the neighbor men came and toted her out
to the railroad crossing in a big chair. They got to Baltimore on the 22nd, that was
Washington‘s birthday. The doctor that her brother wanted to examine her had
gone to Washington, but he got back that afternoon, but he did not examine her
until the next morning. In a few days she stood an operation, which was a success,
but it was some weeks before she could be brought home. Her sister came and
kept house with her children and husband. I heard she had got home, so I went the
next day. She met me in the door, put her arms around me, half crying and half
laughing, and said, ―I looked for you to come yesterday.‖ I replied that I did not
get the word in time. ―Well,‖ she said, ―I felt you would be the first one to come to
see me when I got back.‖ ―Well, am I not the first?‖ I asked. Her sister, Mrs.
Thompson, was with her for awhile and left. She wrote me a nice letter some time
after. Uncle Luther, as I had always called him, and my mother were sisters‘
children [Luther Clegg was a 1st cousin of her mother Cynthia Harmon-Gean]. He
told his own nephews that not one of them had waited on him as good as Lucy.
Well, I sat up the first night he was set up with. The next morning I went to Rufus‘
room and told him to do something. He asked if I thought him bad off, and I
replied, ―It is his death, or near,‖ so he sent to Orange for his two sisters. They,
with their husbands, came. He lived several days. Aunt Tilly, his last wife, one
that was true to him always, returned to her people. Rufus and family moved in
the house. He was the only son; he had two sons, both of whom died just in the
bloom of young manhood. I went whenever I could. Lillie said, ―Come, Lucy,
whenever you can; I think often how you stayed by me [this was Lillie J. Baynes].
I would send for you, but I know Maggie is down and needs you [this is her sister
Lydia Margaret Gean-Crutchfield]. I want you to come every time you can.‖ She
was taken, and I went. She had said, ―I am going to see my two boys.‖ She did. I
went and helped to dress her body. Farewell, Lillie, till we meet in heaven.
      My last living sister was helpless for two years. She would be up and down,
sit in a big chair, but we would put quilts and pillows to help her. My niece,
Mildred Mansfield she once was, was living with me. I do not know how I would
have done but the Lord was with us every day, nay, every hour. I was bitten by a
rattlesnake pilot. When my helpless sister heard me call that I was snake-bitten,
she got to the door and down the steps on a crutch to help kill it. After I got the
snake killed and put it so the people could see it, I went to the public road, to my
mail box, and I did some hollering. Sister Maggie said, ―Sis Lou, you will alarm
the neighborhood.‖ I replied, ―That is what I am trying to do.‖ Little Raymond
Leighton had gone for the doctor, but I did not stop. I went again to the road,
hollering. Cousin John Harmon and his son, Obed, were out hunting and heard
me; they came, and when I told them what had happened, he said, ―Come, we will
go back to the house, as the doctor has been gone after; I will go look for snake
week.‖ Well, he had Obed to split wood and make a fire, and he had the weed
boiling when the two doctors came, and they commenced to do something, and that
fast. Cousin John asked the doctor what about the snake weed, and he said, ―Do all
you can; let‘s save her if we can.‖ And Dr. Chapin did, and many deeds for which
I hope he is now wearing a crown with many stars. His son, Willie, is coming on;
may his life be as true and faithful as the father‘s that is gone, so that when the last
call is made all the family will be united in their home in heaven.
      On the first of October, 1918, a letter came to me, saying on the back,
―Deliver in haste; important.‖ That was Monday; I had gone to my nephew
Graham Johnson‘s on Saturday, rather than spend Sunday alone, and did not get
home until late. I had got my night work over and prepared for bed when some
one called me, saying he had a letter of importance for me. I went to the door; it
said come on the next mail, three down with influenza. I did not get off till
Wednesday. As I went through Pittsboro several asked, ―Aren‘t you afraid?‖ I
said, ―No, if I had got the word they had smallpox I would have gone.‖ Before I
got to the depot I met Dr. Farthing, who asked where I was going, and I told him
where and what for. He said, ―I wish there were fifty women like you in this
country. We need them. I went and was met by Prufert Johnson, who said he had
met every train for they believed I would come. I found Mollie had taken a
relapse, Ernest and Margaret both in bed but doing right well. I did the best I
could. Ham did the best he could, and tried to look out for my well-being and
comfort. Well, I did what little I could, and that was not much, but they all seemed
glad I came. Prufert, Ernest and Harvey, when I fixed to leave, all wanted to give
me something, so they got me some of the nicest straight pieces of fat lightwood. I
split it up when I needed kindling, and it lasted me a long time. I would not make
a charge, so when I left, Mollie paid my railroad fare and gave me a cloak.
      After Christmas I had one of the little boys and had gone to Oscar Petty‘s.
He spent the night and went back next day around the big road. It had rained
during the night. Camp Creek was up. I got the little boy over on the rocks, as
there was not foot log, but one of my feet went into the water over my shoe. It was
two miles home. Some of my teeth were bad, so I went to Pittsboro to Dr.
Chapin‘s office; he took out four on the side; then there were four in front, of
which he took out two. He pulled two at the same draw—he had seen they were
grown together. He then said he had seen it and knew he had it, quite a curiosity. I
went home, went to bed, showed my teeth. Little Henry, as they lay on the table,
and while I was suffering and did not notice him, got a knife and cut them apart,
said he waned to see what it was [was this Henry Leighton, son of Mildred
Mansfield-Leighton?]. In a few days I was suffering severe pain and could not get
about. Dr. Chapin came and said it was sciatica and inflammatory rheumatism; for
six weeks if they would try to move me my suffering was severe, and for nine
months I did not walk a step. Dr. Chapin did all he could to give me some ease; he
would insert something in my flesh. Late in the fall I got so I could be up a little in
a chair.
      During the time two Mormon elders came and waned a night‘s lodging. I
did not know but they would pay. It was after sundown, and I agreed for them to
stay. My niece was waiting on me, so she prepared supper and a bed for them. My
bed was in the room they were to go through in going to the dining room. There
was some fire in it, so after supper Mr. Leighton and the men took a seat in my
room. I could not get up at all. They had a great deal to say. Mr. Leighton asked
one about having more than one wife. The way they got out of it, not to own or
deny it, they said, ―Don‘t we live under the same law as you do?‖ Well, they
talked so till I believe they had Mr. Leighton converted to their faith. They went
so far that while I could not raise up I could not stand it. They said that God would
not keep a soul in torment after it had been long enough to pay for the crime, just
as the judge and jury set months or years to punish for crimes, and all such talk.
Well, I was so worn out and worried with this talk that my patience could hold out
no longer, and I said, ―I want to hear no more, I‘ve a Bible and read and not
anything such is in it, and I want to hear no more, so I want you to get out and go
to bed.‖ And they did. Next morning they left with no pay or thanks, got Mr.
Leighton‘s address and in a few days mail was coming in my box. The children
would bring it in and I would tell them to lay it in the fire, if I was not up so I could
put it in myself.
      I improved so that I could be on a crutch some, and Henry L. Mansfield
heard it and wrote me to come, that his house was not large, but it was big enough
for me to have a room. I went, stopped at East Durham, telling of the Mormons,
and heard that the same two had spent a week there free and that Bud Smith had
run them out. My nephew, Graham Johnson, got a conveyance and brought me to
the depot at Pittsboro to come to Durham.
      Dailey Mansfield, the baby or youngest child, said he waned me to go to
Sunday school. I told him all right, if Sunday was a fair day and I was well I
would go with him. So the day was bright, and little Dailey then seemed as happy
as any child could be. I made my home there. I had a good bed but I would sit in
the room with Lillie and Henry until bed time, then Lillie would go with me to
where I slept, as we all had prayer in their room; when I got on the bed she would
tuck the cover to my back so I would not be cold [Henry married Lillie Shaw].
      Well, in the spring Wilbur Mansfield, who had married a widow in Danville,
Va., had come on their wedding trip to my house, where I treated them so kindly
that his wife said she would come again, and did. Well, after I came to make my
home in Durham, Wilbur‘s wife came in April and spent two weeks. He said for
me to prepare to go back with her. He would come on Sunday and for his wife to
have me come with her to the station, and all his folks that could. So we were
there, his brothers, one sister, her husband and one niece. It was on Sunday, the
10th day of May, 1914. We got there safe, but in jerking up our handbags—as
Wilbur had to go on the train to Washington, D.C.—he was in such haste to get us
to his home that when we got out and went into the house, I had, or Wilbur had,
taken up my handbag. When I rested I wanted to write back and when I looked for
my little purse with all the money I had, it was gone. I never heard anything from
it, and not one dime did I have. Now I try every day to ready my Bible, I believe it
teaches that all things shall work together for good to them that love God and keep
his commandments. I ask myself if I love and keep His law in all things, or do just
and right in all things. I do not want to fail in one jot or tittle. I want to so live that
if the call comes I will be ready, be it at morning, noon or night.
       I came back to Durham, but did not stay long.              Mildred wrote to me
[Mildred Mansfield-Leighton]. It was in July when I got down home, and I found
Mildred with two little boys, twins, I had never seen, named Robert Lee and
Woodrow Wilson, called Wilson and Robert. We had a pleasant time for awhile
till some of the folks talked to Mildred and Raymond about a man that had a farm
on Deep River and would give them an extra good chance. I was hurt badly. I
cried, for I loved them al, but I told Mildred if they could do so much better, why I
would not be against them. I wanted them to do well, but oh, how I was hurt. I
loved them all and would be so lonesome if they left me. Raymond had been told,
and the man had shown him, how level the land was, not a rock to hit his plow, the
house comfortable; he would have a well dug in the yard as the water was so far.
A man came and was digging the well when they got there with their furniture, but
did not finish it, left and never came back. The water was quite a distance and they
had to cross a stream. Well, neither Raymond nor Mildred was at all satisfied, nor
do I think any of the children were. Cornelia had chills, and I believe that move
was the cause of Mildred having pellagra. They were so dissatisfied that they
came back to the old neighborhood. I would have been glad for them to have come
back into my house, but it was locked up and I away. I feel that it was the cause of
her death. She got so bad off she went to Durham. I had returned from a trip to
Greensboro, High Point and Thomasville Orphanage. I was so glad, and I was
right ready and went with her to Watts Hospital, where she spent a few days and
then returned home. Oh, how sad it was. One of the women down in the old
neighborhood asked Mildred about her stay. She told me she said, ―Don‘t ask me.
The worst day‘s work I ever did was the day I left Aunt Lucy‘s, so I don‘t want
anybody to ask me; it was such a mistake.‖
      The winter that she and her family were down there I made first stop in
Durham. Wilbur came on Sunday, had about two hours to stay, and carry me back
in January. I went to Danville and spent one week. He came and brought me to
High Point to one of my nieces, Ester Brooks, who lived there. I spent one week
with them. She had a chum and they were almost like sisters; they treated me good
and kind. I wrote to Dr. Luther Kistler that I wanted to come and be there one
Sunday to hear the preacher. He answered and said I could come. I never went
without carrying a supply of something for the orphans; I have a feeling for all the
orphans. I attended Sunday school and preaching the 2nd day of February, and left
on Monday.
                                  CHAPTER SEVEN


               SCHOOL TEACHING AND LATER MEMORIES


      My first teaching was a neighborhood school.           I seemed to please my
patrons well enough that they asked to teach the public state school in 1864. I
taught and in 1864 had a vacation a few weeks Christmas time. I resumed my
school in January, 1865, and was teaching when Robert Lee surrendered. I was
paid off by Mr. James Lassiter, who had the money in charge. He paid me near
two hundred dollars. I got two twenty-dollar bills, four ten-dollar bills, and twenty
five-dollar bills, some three and two-dollar bills, with a 25 cent paper bill called a
shin plaster, and not a loaf of bread could I buy, but I was young and able to work
those days and I did work and am glad I did. I have never been afraid of work,
anything I could do.
      My brother-in-law ran a farm for Mr. Thom Jenkins some 5 miles below
Raleigh; I came and taught a Moore Schoolhouse. Brother William lived with us.
Aunt Sallie Johnson‘s baby child lived with us and attended my school. She went
with me. In 1873 and 1874 I was teaching a neighbor school at old Mr. Billy
Boon‘s. He had a vacant house so the neighbors just hired me; four of the people
said they would give me a month‘s board if I would give a poor widow her
children‘s tuition free, so I did; had quite a nice little school. It was about seven or
eight miles from home and I would only go home once a month. I got word to
come and bring two or three men with me. I went then. Well, that night I had the
deed of my father‘s home place made over to me. Baxter Johnson and Abner
Johnson signed by putting down heir names.
      My father had me to go to Pittsboro courthouse and have my deed recorded.
I did and it was from then my father told some neighbors that he was not uneasy,
that he would ever feel it was not his home, nor did I ever say one time ―my home‖
until after my father was dead.
      I was taken with my throat on Friday. Monday the doctor gave me out
before day. Tuesday morning my jaws locked. My brother and two sisters could
not pry my mouth open, and not one drop of water did I drink nor one word did I
speak in six or seven days, but I lived and got able to go and wait on others that
had it in the neighborhood. More than one family lost their last child; but I went
and nursed, never refused. I did all I could. When no one but my sister and two
doctors would come into the house I never refused. I was sent for by a family with
five down with typhoid fever, and two doctors. I went, spent several weeks; three
out of five died; not one person could I get to help me dress the dead woman, but I
helped and waited on five that died. I did all I could the fall that the diphtheria was
so bad. Mr. John Elkins had four children, all died; Mr. Jasper Fooshee had five,
four died in just a few weeks; all had a hope of a home in heaven. One 11 years
died in my arms, so happy. One that never made a profession of Christ plead with
me to pray for her. I got down on my knees by her bed. I plead with God to spare
her as he did the fig tree, give her time to repent. He did, she got up and lived
several months.
      I was asked to go to Moore County to teach a school, a few days after
Christmas, at a place called Horse Shoe. I went, had a big school, that is, a great
number of scholars, only a few could read or write. I taught for five months. Not a
scholar that had a Bible, not but one that had ever read one. There were but three
families that owned their homes. I gave two Testaments and they read the first
chapter with my help. Well, when the winter broke, the man that I boarded with
(not a professor) proposed to me to have a Sunday school, said there was no
church, and as it was in the bend of the river some would go fishing on Sunday. I
did, and my little schoolhouse could not seat near all that were there during the
next weeks. All the scholars that could work built a brush arbor, got slabs from an
old saw mill and made seats. Well, all the school children, with many of their
parents and old people, came, and it was interesting; I believe it did good. Not
long after I wrote to Mr. Ben Watson, a Baptist preacher, to come, which he did,
and preached one Sunday. Well, I closed my school with acting and dialogues. I
spent a week or more visiting all; that is, what was called the poor working people.
There were eight or ten families that were tenants, for they did not own their
homes. I made a call or visit to all. I took my Bible. I never found one Bible. I
found one Testament. I went to one widow, her mother a widow; she told me she
had never attended church; her mother said it had been fifteen years since she had
been, that was when she lived near Bear Creek. To walk now it was so far; she
was old and could not walk. The daughter said I brought the only and first Bible
that was ever in her house, and I was the only person that ever prayed or had ever
told her that she had a soul to save. Her heart was touched and made tender with a
little love and kindness. When I bid her goodbye both her eyes were full of tears
raining down her cheeks. I never saw her or any of her people again, but the
neighborhood got a church built in 1886, just 100 years after Bishop Asbury first
came into North Carolina, but I cannot tell of the first Sunday school. I was given
a school at Providence for five months; Rev. John Tillet was on the charge. I let
my scholars attend and did myself. My father consecrated his life anew. I have
hope of his life, though short. He died in April, 1877.
      Well, a man sent me word that if I did not ay what he said my father owed
him he would sue me. I did not know that he owed one dollar, but I did know that
the same man came to my father, to get a barrel of sorghum syrup. Heard he had
500 gallons. Father let him have a barrel. I know that he never paid him a penny.
Well, everything was sold and he got what he claimed. I told some of the people
that if he had acted unjust that God would send some judgment upon him, and it
was not very long before he went crazy and died in distress for how he treated me.
I did pray that he would repent of all his wrong, that his soul might be saved.
      Now 1928 is near a close, and I may not live to see another year. I have
tried to do some little good to those that were in need. I heard the first of
November of a family that was in distress. I did not know the name nor where
they lived. I walked until I had about given out, and went into another house and
was told that such a family they heard was in need. I went and found, oh, such
sorrow. I saw a family was moving nearby and I thought they were strangers. I
proposed to the head of the home to go to see them and give them a welcome, as I
was taught from a child to do, or if at church I see strangers, to go ask their name
and tell mine, with a welcome. But the head of the house, said, ―No, I cannot go or
let you go while you make my house your home: I do not know that they are nice
people, and I don‘t visit people unless they are nice.‖ Well, I will say, as I told
some of the neighbors, if they are in need and trouble I will go, and if they are not
nice I will try to help them get nice, and I asked some if Christ, while on earth, did
not go about to find the nice people to help? I read my Bible. I think that His
business was the poor and fallen ones were the ones He was helping, and I feel that
if I am to follow Him that I must do so, and, with His smile and help, if I meet a
convict I will try to speak a kind word and look pleasant as I can.
      As a nurse and a home missionary I have never refused to go to those sick of
any disease. I have nursed every kind of fever but yellow, and I never knew that to
be in our part of the country. I was asked once to go to a home where there were
five in bed with typhoid fever. I was to receive two dollars a day, but no other
white or black could be hired or persuaded to go. I went. It was ten miles and I
spent five weeks. Three of the five died and not one person offered to come stay
day or night. The mother died first. I sent to get some neighbors to come but none
would come so I did the best I could with her dead body. I feel that she entered
Heaven. In a few weeks a baby went Home and a dear, sweet girl ten years old
was called. I left the rest improving.
      I never made any change when the diphtheria was so bad in Chatham
County some years ago. A little girl about seven years old died in the
neighborhood. After she was buried I was sent for, so I went. The oldest, a girl,
died in the night. It was next morning after daylight that her father left to go to
Pittsboro to get material for her burial dress, and I made it. One dear girl about
eleven years old, lying on an old bed in the middle of the room, asked me to sit
down so that she could lie down in my lap. I did, and she told me that she wanted
me to fix her for burial because it would not be long before she was going Home.
She was just as happy as she could be while speaking of going Home. She told me
that she wanted to go to the old spring to get a drink of water from the gourd there.
We went and I acted as if there was nothing the matter. We came back and I sat
down and she laid her head in my lap again. In less than an hour she was a corpse.
Next a grown brother died. Not a person came except a colored man who dressed
his body, my sister and myself, and the man who made the coffin and put him in it.
It was a very sad time, but all that had been called Home had their lamps trimmed
and the oil in theirs burning. The only sad time was when one girl of seventeen
years of age refused Christ. Her cries were so sad. She called for me so I went. I
knelt down beside her bed, pleaded with God to save her life as He did the fig tree;
give her a change [sic] to reflect. He did. She got up for awhile, but I was called
over to Moore County to teach a school. In a few months I heard that she was
dead.
        I will say a few words about fourteen years ago last October. There was a
new disease that a doctor said he could not define his first case, but while he was
by the bed a little sister of his patient, with her little pet dog, opened the door to go
in the room of the sick one. The little dog ran in. It was named Inzie, so the little
girl said in flew Inzie. The doctor said (so I heard), ―That is what I will call this
disease, ‗Influenza‘.‖
        Well, a letter came from Southern Pines from a nephew of mine to come on
the next train because there were three down with influenza and they could get no
one to come to nurse them. I went. I spent five weeks in Pittsboro. On my way to
the depot I met Dr. Farthing. He asked me where I was going, so I told him. He
said, ―I wish we had fifty men like you. We need them right around here.‖ I feel
that I do want to do a little for my fellow beings in this world. I have been in many
states and many counties and visited some of the poor people. If I could give a
little help I did, but even when I couldn‘t help them I could always speak a kind
word and try to be cheerful. I have visited some of he wealthiest and highest
educated people and many governors also, from ―Athens to Rome.‖ I was treated
well and asked to come again but I never tried to intrude. I felt and new that I was
just a poor country raised girl, but I tried to let people see that my mother had tried
to teach me and I tried to follow her advice and teaching.
      In writing something of my life going up and down, I‘ve not written any of
my married life. I shall say but little of that, for it was so unpleasant, I would not
want the people of the country or city and own to know what I had to suffer.
      Old Mrs. Bowles, Mr. Williams‘ first wife‘s mother, was the tallest woman I
ever saw. She was 88 years old. While she was with us I tried to be kind and do
little deeds that were but little ones. I felt she was old and perhaps not as limber in
arms and knees as she had been. One day I thought perhaps she would feel some
better if she had a bath. I got a little tub or basin, had warm water, a good wash rag
and towels. She was in my room. I told her what I was preparing to do. After I
had her body clean, as she wished, I had her put her feet in the tub. I got down with
a towel, bathed about her knees, wiped them all off good, and then she said, well,
she did not know what to say, for I was the first and only person that had ever
offered to perform such a service for her.     If any one ever had, it was when she
was a child. She had the man who was tending her farm, she told him to bring her
back the second time, that she had spent one winter at John Williams‘ since he
married Lucy Gean and was treated so well, and knew she tried to please and do
her duty, and that she wanted to go back, wanted to die there. She told this, and
the man who worked for her told it. As she was on her dying bed, Jefferson
Ellington, her oldest daughter‘s only child, took him, raised him and loved him, her
only living daughter, Mrs. Howell, with three girls and Jefferson were all sent for.
Mr. Williams‘ two daughters were all in the room. She, old Mrs. Bowles, sent for
me, told me to sit down in a chair by her bed; I did. She took my hand and held it,
told Eva to go bring her her [sic] black silk bonnet, took it and said, ―Now I want
you all to hear me, one daughter and five granddaughters with my grandson to hear
me. I want Lucy to have this bonnet, and you all to hear me say she has waited on
me, done what not one of my granddaughters or my one daughter has ever done.‖
She held my hand until death released her grip. Her body was carried back to her
old home neighborhood. I hope to meet her in heaven. We shall know each other
there. I will say with tears of sorrow that I did speak in a tone of voice not as
gentle as I should and as was pleasing to God‘s sight.
      In the year 1919, Henry L. Mansfield, my nephew, came to Pittsboro on
Monday morning before Christmas to see me. Well, as I was expecting to go to
another nephew who lived near Haywood in Chatham County, I had gone to
Pittsboro. I saw Mr. Joseph Moore and wife. As my friends they told me to bring
him to their house. I had heard he was in town. I went and found him and carried
him to Mr. Moore‘s, introduced him. Mrs. Moore fixed him a room and bed, he
spent the night and seemed to enjoy it. They said any of my people, if I said they
were all right, would have a welcome at their house. Tuesday we went first to Pete
Gunter‘s. He wanted him to spend one night and day with them. He told Henry
they had both worked under him in Durham Hosiery Mill and they had a room and
bed prepared, thinking he would surely stay, but Henry told them as his valise, etc.,
were at Mr. Moore‘s he would spend part of the day with them and then go back to
Mr. Moore‘s at night. Wednesday he offered to pay them but they refused and told
him if he ever came to Pittsboro again to come to see them. He came back to
Durham Christmas Eve, spent a few days and had the second stroke of paralysis.
He was put on his bed. For three years and twenty days he lay there, then God
called him home. I was at my old home and did not get the word to go. I came
some time after. Lillie said I could stay and if anything happened I would know
about it [this is Lillie Shaw-Mansfield]. Well, as her son, Henry, was off at work
and sent her a money order, she had to go up to the post office to get it cashed, and
I could be with or near if he needed anything. I was glad to do just a little
something. I was glad, yet my heart was sad to see him lie there so helpless. I
would look at him and try to pray, but it seemed my prayer was almost as naught.
I tried to be as little trouble as I could and not be in the way, but as I am almost
helpless I feel in the way, not at Mollie Johnson‘s, for I‘ve put enough here to
support me.
      I spent awhile, kept house in Pittsboro. One of my nephews, P.H. Johnson,
and wife, with four children, came down one Sunday and took dinner with me.
Well, I had rented living quarters in an office belonging to Mr. Arthur London. It
was once the office of Lawyer John Manning. I heard that it had been built nearly
a hundred years. My nephew and his wife had me come up and stay with them.
They were then living on a farm ten or twelve miles south of Durham, near the
Chatham line. I had some of my furniture, a bed room to myself. My youngest
nephew had given me a cook stove with biscuit oven, pot and griddle, a heater with
two tops. I could make coffee and cook bread, and one of the children came and
slept with me. They were all good to me, but they found they could not live on a
farm and keep bread and pay the rent, so they left and came to town, Durham.
Well, they did right well when all got regular work. I came and would stay with
different ones for 18 or 20 months. Then I got a room for awhile on Main Street,
but it was very disagreeable. The folks who lived there and those near were all
good to me, but I got a room from Mr. Parson on Stokes Street. It was small but
comfortable, and all the near neighbors were just as good and kind to me as I could
wish. I was not feeling well. The last of January I got in such a fix that Dr.
Schuler came to see me. I was carried to Watts Hospital, where I spent February.
I was treated so kind and was greatly improved, but I cannot even write of the next
four weeks. As I was not expected to do much more I was as some of the old
preachers, just put aside. But God has been good to me and I will still trust Him,
for I feel that if I am to be called home soon I want to be ready.
      I will write about what I did in 1927. I was in Durham. I got a room on
Main Street. Mr. Will Smith had the house rented from Mrs. Cole, a room on the
north bottom floor, where the water was for all in the house. A Mr. Perry with a
wife and two little boys had two rooms upstairs. Wilbur Mansfield said if I could
get a room he would pay a dollar a week. That was in September, 1927. I went to
see Mr. Pope and he let me have bedstead, mattress, a heater and a resting chair. It
was a cold room and not much comfort, so I found I could get a room on Stokes
Street where I could be more comfortable, yet there was no fireplace or closet for
clothes. A Mr. Parson had the house in charge. My room had a porch on the back,
with steps to go down to the ground. A Mr. Ham with a wife and one child, a girl
4 or 5 years old, had two rooms adjoining mine. The little girl was with me a great
deal and they were all good to me. Mr. Parson put a glass in a window where one
was out at his own expense, and paid light bill. Mrs. Ham paid me several dollars
while I was there for taking care of her little girl, while I spent some time with
some of the people from the churches up in the city. I was in what was Edgemont
section, but at that time I did not know but few. Dr. Lee Battle‘s wife was a
relative of mine; we were raised near each other and attended school, being in the
same classes in most of our studies. Her family were all of the M. E. Church. As
Dr. Battle was Baptist, she joined with him. When I came to Durham I often spent
a few days with them and went with them to their church. I think that is the cause
of the people hunting me up, hearing that all my people were dead and I was
afflicted. The little verse I pray to practice says I must give a strict account of
every idle word.
                                            Then set a watch upon my lips,
                                            And guard my tongue, O Lord.
                                           I want to wear a crown of glory,
                                        When I get home to that good land,
                                          I want to shout salvation‘s story,
                                     In concert with the blood-washed band.
                                          I‘m going there to see my Savior,
                                           To sing His praise forever more,
                                           I‘m only going over Jordan. . . .




                                                                    Index


Asbury,                                                                       Mary J. .................................................. 16
  Bishop ................................................... 44             Burke,
Battle,                                                                       Brooks ............................................. 20, 31
  Lee (Dr.) ................................................ 51             Bynum,
Baynes,                                                                       Eliza ...................................................... 14
  Lillie J. .................................................. 36             Joseph.................................................... 14
  Ralph (Dr.) ............................................ 35               Chaffin,
Boon,                                                                         H.P. (Dr.)............................................... 34
  Billy....................................................... 42           Chapin,
  Jehu ....................................................... 27             Dr. ................................................... 36, 38
  John ....................................................... 27             Willie..................................................... 36
Brooks,                                                                     Clegg,
  Ester ...................................................... 41             David ..................................................... 15
  Isaac ...................................................... 31    Ham,
  Janie M. ................................................. 14        Mr.......................................................... 51
  Luther ........................................ 15, 34, 35         Hank,
  Rufus ..................................................... 34       Lucian (Dr.)........................................... 32
  William Fletcher (Rev.) "W.F." ............ 29                     Hanks,
Dunlap,                                                                John (Dr.) .............................................. 30
  Major ..................................................... 31     Harmon,
  Mr.......................................................... 31      Cynthia .................................................. 35
Edwards,                                                               Eizabeth "Lizzie" .................................. 32
  Bettie ..................................................... 22      Elizabeth J. .............................................. 8
  C.B. ....................................................... 22      James Edward "Ed"............................... 33
  Ida ......................................................... 22     James H. "Jimmie" ................................ 32
  W.J. ....................................................... 22      John ....................................................... 36
Elkins,                                                                Nancy C. ............................................... 27
  John ....................................................... 43      Obed ...................................................... 36
Ellington,                                                             Sarah C. "Sallie" ................................... 42
  Jefferson ................................................ 48        Thomas Watts ......................................... 8
Emmerson,                                                              William Polk ........................................... 8
  Johnnie .................................................. 20      Harrington,
Farrow,                                                                Thomas .................................................. 27
  Terry...................................................... 27     Harris
Farthing,                                                              Thomas .................................................. 15
  Dr. ................................................... 37, 47     Indiana
Fooshee,                                                               Elwood .................................................... 8
  Jasper..................................................... 43     Jackson,
Foushee, Nelson .......................................... 6           J. J. ........................................................ 18
Gean,                                                                Jenkins,
  Albert .............................................. 24, 26         Thom ..................................................... 42
  Ann C. ............................................. 24, 28        Johnson
  Edward R. ............................................. 29           Rev. ....................................................... 20
  Lucy ...................................................... 48     Johnson,
  Lydia Margaret "Maggie" ......... 25, 26, 36                         Abner..................................................... 42
  Martha ................................................... 24        Baxter .................................................... 42
  Mary A. ................................................. 26         Clark J. .................................................. 32
  Sarah C. "Sallie" ....................... 10, 25, 28                 Graham ............................................ 37, 39
  Thomas W. ............................................ 10            James P. "Jimmie" .................... 24, 26, 28
  William Polk ......................................... 42            Mollie .................................................... 50
Glasson,                                                               Prufert ................................................... 37
  Jesse ...................................................... 31      Sallie ..................................................... 27
Groce,                                                               Kistler,
  Milberry ................................................ 29         Luther (Dr.) ........................................... 41
Gunter,                                                              Knight,
  Pete........................................................ 49      Henry..................................................... 26
Lassiter,                                                            Pierce,
  James ..................................................... 42       George F. (Bishop)................................ 19
Leighton,                                                            Pope,
  Cornelia ................................................. 41        Mr.......................................................... 51
  Hieronymus Peterson ............................ 38                Reeves,
  Raymond ......................................... 36, 40             James (Col.) .......................................... 31
  Robert Lee ............................................. 40        Schuler,
  Woodrow Wilson .................................. 40                 Dr. ......................................................... 50
Lineberry,                                                           Shaw,
  Billy....................................................... 31      Lillian M. "Lillie" ........................... 39, 49
London,                                                              Smith,
  Arthur .................................................... 50       Bud ........................................................ 39
Manning,                                                               Will ....................................................... 51
  John ....................................................... 50    Stroud,
Mansfield,                                                             Dr. ................................................... 32, 34
  Dailey .................................................... 39     Thom, Mr. ................................................. 10
  Henry L. .......................................... 39, 49         Tillet,
  Jefferson B. "J.B." ........................... 24, 27               John (Rev.) ...................................... 24, 44
  Mildred ............................................ 36, 40        Tyson,
  Wilbur ....................................... 39, 41, 51            Neal ....................................................... 27
Meaden,                                                              Unknown
  Willie (Dr.)............................................ 35          Barefoot, Mrs. Pheba ............................ 33
Moore                                                                  Bowles, Mrs. ......................................... 48
  Lizzie..................................................... 14       Cole, Mrs............................................... 51
Moore,                                                                 Dixon, Mrs. ........................................... 33
  Dr. ......................................................... 27     Edwards, Mrs. ....................................... 22
  Joseph.................................................... 49        Evans, Mrs. Martha ............................... 31
New York                                                               Howell, Mrs. ......................................... 48
  Syracuse ................................................ 15         Thompson, Mrs. .................................... 35
North Carolina                                                         Womble, Mrs. Betsey ........................... 29
  Durham ................................................... 4         Womble, Mrs. Lois ............................... 27
  Haywood ............................................... 16         Waton,
  Morrisville............................................... 6         Ben ........................................................ 44
  Orange Co. .............................................. 5        Webster,
Parson,                                                                Simon .................................................... 10
  Mr.......................................................... 50    Williams,
Perry,                                                                 John ....................................................... 48
  Mr.......................................................... 51    Womble,
Petty,                                                                 Isaac ...................................................... 33
  Oscar ..................................................... 37       Jake ....................................................... 11
Phillips,                                                            Wright
  Louis (Rev.) .......................................... 29           Mr. & Mrs. ............................................ 15
  Robert H. "Bob" .................................... 29

				
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