DADE COUNTY GEORGIA R.H. and Minerva Dabbs (McKraig, Morrison) ***************** Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/ga/gafiles.htm *********************** This file was contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by: Janet Harnden THE HISTORY OR BIOGRAPHY OF FIVE GENERATIONS April 1, 1910 Mrs. Nettie Williams Rome, Georgia My dear daughter, you have requested me to write you a history of my parents and grandparents, and a sketch of my own past life. Now, you know it will be a poor biography, I can get up for you. I am a bad Penman, and a very poor composer. But unto my forgotten memory, and weak mind, and limited education, I will do the best I possibly can. You are the first one of the twelve that has ever taken that much interest in my people. My connection on both sides were all poor. If I ever had any rich relatives, I never knew of it. But they were all honest honorable, upright and square & law abiding citizens. Most of them were industrious, hard working people. Therefore, they had plenty to live on. A good many of them gained considerable prosperity, but didn't get rich. My people on my mother's side (Sarah Ann McKaig) were Irish. That is, on her father's side. My mother's father and grandfather came across the waters from the old country. My Grandfather Francis McKaig married Elizabeth Sullenger, who was my blessed grandmother. My grandfather had one brother that I knew. His name was John. We all called him Uncle Jack. He married Evelina Sullenger, a sister to my grandmother. We all called her Aunt Lina. They all immigrated from North Carolina to sonewhere in Tennessee. I don't remember what part. They moved from Tennessee here to Georgia, bought a farm above Trenton, and lived there for several years. I think my grandfather had some sisters, and probably more brothers, but I never knew anything about any only Uncle Jack. I knew there was one sister for I have heard my mother speak of her Aunt Betty Shaftner. I think she lived in Bedford Co., Tenn. I guess that I have seen her, but when I was very small, therefore, I can't remember her. My grandfather and grandmother (Francis & Elizabeth) raised a family of three boys and five girls. I think they lost two or three children while small. Uncle Hugh, the oldest son, married a girl in Eygep Hollow by the name of Emily Gouger. She was a good industrious woman. I was never much acquainted with her. They raised a large family of boys and girls. A good many of them are scattered here, there and yonder. But Uncle Hugh, Aunt Emily and some of their children have long since passed from earth away. Uncle Jack, the next oldest, married a girl in Bradford Co., Tenn. by the name of Millie Webster. He brought her to Georgia, and lived here for several years. She was a small woman, and well thought of among all the connection. She was one of my favorites among all on my aunts. The raised a large family of boys and girls. They lost one girl, when she was small. Deer Aunt Millie had so much sorrow and trouble. They moved from Georgia back to Bedford Co. where she came from. After they had several children, and raised all of their children to be grown, except the one little girl. Well, Uncle Jack died while some of the children were small. They lost one grown son before Uncle Jack died. After she got them all raised, she lost two grown daughters and I think it was four sons. The death of the girls wasn't more than two or three months apart. Poor Aunt Millie left this world of sorrow about two years ago, to join the loved ones that had gone. She came to see Sarah and I before my father died, and while here, she told me that she had never seen anything but trouble, and after that she lost all of those children. I was so sorry for her, because I loved her so much and so did Sister Sarah. Well, it looks like I have gotten off the subject, but I could not refrain from telling you something about Poor Aunt Millie and her sad and sorrowful life. Well, Uncle Frank, the youngest child of my grandparents married a girl in Bedford Co., Tenn. Her name was Liza House. He brought her to Georgia. They raised two boys and four girls. The oldest girl died after she was grown. I always loved Uncle Frank. He always seemed to think so much of my mother, and would visit her as long as she lived. After she died, he would visit the rest of us as long as he was able. Poor fellow, you know he died six or seven years ago. But I suppose his wife and children are still living. At least they were the last I heard from them. I don't remember which was the oldest daughter of my grandparents, but will say Aunt Eveline. She married a man by the name of Gwin. He had a good home to take her to. He was a well to do farmer and Merchant. They raised a large family of boys and girls. I think she had born to her seventeen children. It seems to me there were two sets of twins. But she lost several children while they were young, and their oldest son went off to the war, and he never did return. They never knew what became of him. His name was Bryan. I loved Aunt Evelyn, although I never knew much about her until I was grown, and not very much then. Aunt Evlyn lived at Rising Fawn, Georgia all of her married life and they never did visit my mother, although my father and mother visited them. Aunt Eveline (Sarah Ann McKaig Morrison's sister) and Uncle Hen have been dead several years, and I think all of their children, about six or eight have died. Aunt Minerva, the one I was named for married a man by the name of James Clark. I think they lived down about Morganville or Weldwood for a few years. Then they moved to Iowa. I don't remember Aunt Minerva. I was small when they moved away. Aunt Minerva died after they went to Iowa and left three girls and three boys. The girls, Sarah, for my mother, Elizabeth for my grandmother, Vina for Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Nathan Cole. She was her Aunt. The boys were Sam, Frank, and Thomas. After Frank was grown, he and some other boys, some of his connection came down to Georgia to visit their kinfolks. Frank certainly was a nice young man, and real good looking. He never remained in Georgia very long. Some of his kinfolds said he was engaged to be married to a girl back in Iowa was the reason he was in such a rush to get back, and I suppose that was it, as he was married soon after he went back. While they were out here, Mr. and Mrs. Naylor, their kinfolks, gave a party in honor of the Iowa boys, and I with some other girls were invited and we all went. There was a large crowd there. They had fiddles and how we tried to dance. It was the only dance I ever went to. My mother did not like it because I went to that one. But My father wanted me to go, because he thought so much of Mr. Naylor and his wife. They were such nice people. Mrs. Naylor was Mr. Cole's daughter. I thought so much of her. She was such a dear and good woman. We all did enjoy being there, but I always did feel mean for going against my mother's will. Another one of my grandmother's daughters' name was Julia Octavia. Old Uncle Jack and Aunt Lina McKaig raised her. They had no children of their own. I think they partly raised Aunt Evelina. I just can remember Aunt Julia. My mother said she was a beautiful girl, and had many admirers. She finally married a man that was poor and unworthy of her affection. His name was Sam Harris. She only lived about six months after she was married. So ended a life, so brief, so young and so fair. Like the flowers of spring that bloom to fade and die. It seems that the Lord saw that she was too pure and frail and fair to battle with the hardships and trials of life so took her away. I was at her grave about five years ago. I was up at Elise's when she lived near Uncle Andy Brown's. Mrs. Turner took me out to show me Aunt Julia's grave. It was just a little piece from the back of their garden. There were several Graves there. Mr Brown's wife was burried there. He has been laid there by the side of her since then. You see, Uncle Jack & Aunt Lina once lived right where Mr. Andy Brown Lived, and where Mrs. Turner now lives. It made me feel so bad to look at the grave where my dear little aunt had been laid, so many years ago. So long that large trees were growing on her grave. Another one of my grandmother's daughters was Alafair. She was the youngest girl, and one of my favorite aunts. I suppose it was because I was with her more than all the rest of my mother's sisters. She married a man by the name of Thomas Sharrock and married against her parents' will. They lived in Trenton the first year of their married life. During the war, they lived in Chattanooga. He was a blacksmith and worked in the shops, helped to make repair guns for the Southern army, and was living there when the Yankees cananaded the town. My mother and I were in there that day. Aunt Alafair bundled up herself, her two children and came home with us. She left her house and everything she had. Only what few clothes she brought with her. The Yankees took the town. She never saw or heard of her things any more. The Southern Army left there and went south and took her husband with them. So she never saw him any more, for a long long time. She had to take her children and go live with her father and mother until after the war. And then they lived up at Trenton for a few years and then at Rising Fawn. Then moved to Bedford Co., Tenn. and lived there the rest of their lives. They raised a large family of boys and girls. But Aunt and Uncle have been dead for several years. Now there is one more daughter, Julia and Aunt Alafair are both younger than she. Her name was Sarah Ann. Her people called her Sallie Ann. At the age of eighteen she married a man by the name of Shadrick H. Morrison who became my father. And she became my blessed mother, and a better mother and better woman never lived on this earth to never have professed to be Christian. My father and his brother William owned this home farm, from where I am now living. Well, they were in debt for part of it. After they were married, he brought my mother here, and they settled down to hard work, and she lived here the rest of her days. She was born March 24, 1827, died Jan. 29, 1891. My father was born April 8, 1820, died July 26, 1901. He was seven years older than my mother. They were married Feb. 19, 1846. They raised a family of five girls and three boys. The oldest, William McKaig was born May 17, 1848. The next was myself, Minerva, born May 8, 1850, the next was John, born Sept 22, 1851. The next Eveline, born Oct. 26, 1854. Next was born a little boy, July 23, 1857, and died July 25, 1857. The next was Julia Octavia, born Aug 11, 1858. The next was Sarah, she was born April 19, 1860. The next was Lee, who was born July 13, 1864. The next was Elizabeth. She was born July 10, 1868. She was the last, my mother's baby child (Aunt Betty) and the pride and darling of my heart. You see, I was 18 years old when she was born, so I was the one who nursed and cared for her until my mother was able to be up and take care of her. Then I would attend to her and was a perfect fool about her and her life. And she was foolish about me. I could have taken her away from my mother when I lift home. She loved me so much, she would always visit me every time she could get a chance as long as she lived, Sweet Sister. Like the flowers of Spring that bloom for a day and fade and die, and are no more. She was 23 years and six months old when the Lord took her from us. She died Jan. 11, 1891. She went to Chattanooga to have some teeth worked on. She took ill and it run into pneumonia fever and she lived only a few days. Sister Sarah was there with her. She told Sarah the night before she died, she was prepared to go. Sarah said she suffered a great deal, but went off like one asleep. So ended another life, so tender and fair, so free from sorrow and care. I suppose the Lord thought best to take her out of this world of sorrow and trouble. But it must have broken my poor old mother's heart. For she taken down in a few days after Bettie died with something like Latripp, but I am confident that grief was what killed her. She was so foolish about her baby child. My poor dear mother never knew anything in raising her children but hardships, hard work, trials and sorrow. She and my father both were industrious, and worked very hard to finish paying for the home, and raising their family, and to give them a fair education, which was limited on account of the war coming up. He made enough to buy Uncle Bill out, and then bought the (Raymond Doyle's place) the lower Place (farm). They always had plenty of fruits, vegetables, chickens, eggs, butter, milk and everything else they wanted. In my childhood days, happy days long past and gone, my tender heart was free from care, no sorrow did I know. When my two brothers, Mac and Jack and I, we romped and played in the old apple orchard and ate the delicious fruits. It almost makes my mouth water to think about the nice good peaches and apples we once did have. I think that there were about five acres of apple and peach trees. It seems to me that we nearly always had plenty of good peaches in those days, and my father always raised so many nice water mellons and mushmellons. And it was the pride and delight of his heart, for his neighbors and friends to come and help eat the fruit and mellons. And everybody that came to his table were so perfectly welcome to eat all they wanted. He was so pleased for any of his or mother's people to visit us. I never knew much about my father's people. Only his youngest sister and brother. His mother died when he was a boy. I heard him say she had Consumption seven years before she died. He had to stay in the house to help her do the work. They lived in Warren Co., Tenn. After his mother died they came to Georgia. He had a sister Jane. She married a man named Henry Etter. They lived in Warren Co, Tenn near McMinville. I never did see Aunt Jane, but have always heard my father talk about her. He seemed to think that she was the smartest person that ever walked the earth. She married a well-to-do merchant. He owned a home and a lot of negroes. They raised a large family. The girls names were Harriet, Caroline, Mary, Eugenia, Emma, and Maggy. The boys names were William, James, Eugene, Charles, I believe that there was one named Harry and died when Maggie was small. Now I suppose these children, or some of them are scattered thru the world. I haven't heard from any of them in several years. My father had a brother William who married Harriet Pace. Uncle Bill and Aunt Harriet were Bud Morrison's father and mother. They had three children to die while they were young and very small. And one girl who's name was Elizabeth. She died after she was grown. Poor Bettie, everyone loved her so much. Aunt Harriet, I always loved her more than I did my own aunts. I guess it was because I was with her so much more than any of the rest of my aunts. She was always so good to us in sickness or anything else we needed her in. I always did enjoy going to her house when I was a child, and on as long as she lived. She would let us rip and play and have such nice times. Bettie would come here very often and spend a week with us. But Bud never seemed to enjoy being with us as much as she did. But poor Uncle Bill did not live to ever see Bettie. He taken sick, and lived only a few days. Died before she was born. I can remember him when they would come to see us and our father took us all up there. When he did, I can just remember seeing him after he was laid out. Poor Aunt had a hard time to raise and educate her children. Tho she had a good home and plenty. She worked very hard and so did Bud. Father was always foolish about her and the children. My father had another brother whose name was Samuel. We called him Uncle Sam. He lived with father when he and mother were married. I don't know how long they kept house after they moved over here from Tennessee. He had another sister. Her name was Nancy. He called her Nan. I know they broke up housekeeping and his brother and sister, Nan, went back to Tennessee and she lived with her sister Jane. I don't know if her father lived with her or not. He went kinda deranged in his mind, and did not live very long after breaking up. My father went back over there and went to school at Irwing College. I don't know how long though, before he was married. I know he and Uncle Sam lived here together. When father brought my mother to live here. I have heard her talk so much about him, and she thought so much of him. She said he was so kind and good to her. I remember him well. He lived with us after he went to Irwin College. I don't know how long he went to school. I suppose he came back here and lived a while before he went to Texas. I know I have heard my father and mother talk about his chilling after he came back. They said he was full of Texas Malaria and finally took down with fever and died. Us children thought there was nobody like Uncle Sam. He always brought us candy when he went to town or anywhere he could get it. I think I was just five years old when he died. I remember well the day he died. The house was full of women standing around his bed crying, I suppose they were mostly kinfolks. Five years after he died, father went back over in Tennessee and brought his sister, Nan home with him to live with us. She was a smart industrious woman and was lots of help to mother. I did not love Aunt Nan as well as I should have. She would scold and fuss at me and threaten to tell Pap on me when I would do any little badness. And she would brag on Aunt Janes's girls being so smart. She got me kinda sour toward her and it never did get out of me. Of course, I guess I was to blame, for I suppose I was stubborn and contrary, for they told me I was. When we were small, we would romp around and play. When we would get into badness, as all children do sometimes, they would accuse me of being the ring leader, and it sure did hurt. For I thought the others were just as much to blame as me. And then it was my heart's desire to want to be good and do right, and always have been from childhood up. I never did want to miss treat anyone in my life. I surely wasn't such a very bad child. I don't remember of ever getting but three whippings in my life. My father gave them to me. Now I do not say I did not need them, for I guess that I needed brushing many a time. But if my mother ever whipped any of her children with a switch, I never remember of it, and I believe she raised a family of as good children as a woman ever did. Well, you know sister Sarah, and I know there never was any better girl ever lived. She was a good girl from childhood up, and she lived a pure unselfish life always mindful of the comforts of others, and so good and patient to the sick. Sister Julia, dear sweet sister. She always was so good to me, and I always loved her so much. I loved for her to visit me when I lived up in the hollow. I would get so lonesome. I would be so proud when I would see her coming. She was always so lively and so full of talk. More so than Sarah, in those days. But dear sweet sister we have drifted apart. I suppose I'll never see her any more. I often long to see her dear sweet face and to know that the love is as of yore. Well, back to my childhood days, and the whippings that I got. The first one I got was for telling my Pap a story. I was very small. We three Mac, Jack and Myself had been running some switches in a barrell of molasses and I denied it. He gave me a little whipping for telling him a story. The next whipping was for crying for my supper while mother was very busy preparing supper for a corn shucking crowd. Aunt Harriet was here helping her, and he came in on me while I was whinning around her, crying, sleepy, and wanted to go to bed. So he just grabbed me up and took me out and whipped me. I suppose it seemed he hurt me a great deal more than he did. Poor little Jack was the one that always did the yelling when I got a whipping or hurt. The next whipping I got, Mack and I got into a fight. We were great big children, about nine and ten years old. I don't remember what we fell out about, but we were whising shoes at each other when Pap came in on us and wore us out. We might have killed each other if we had been left to fight it out. These are the only whippings I remember ever getting. When I went to school, the teacher would make me stand up on the floor, and sometimes throw big switches at me, and make me carry them up. And sometimes would keep me in with the class for punishment. I don't ever remember of ever getting a whipping at school. I remember of falling when I was a little girl. Mack, Jack and I were all playing at the barn. There was a corn bin built of rails. There was only one crib there then. I told the boys I could beat them climbing to the top. I started up as fast as I could. I don' know if whether either one of them started up or not. I think tho Mack did. The pen was very high. When I got over half way to the top, I grabbed a piece of rail that was in a crack, it pulled out and I went right on my back. It knocked the breath out of me. Jack yelled and screamed till he brought Pap and Mother both running to see what was the matter. I could hear him squalling but could not get my breath until they came and rolled me about. They were scared very badly. Poor little Jack was scared almost to death. He seemed to think I was killed. Pap carried me to the house and I soon got all right. But you can rest assured that I was careful about climbing a rail fence ever after. But remember I was very small when that occurred. The sweet memories of my childhood was when we would go to visit my mother's home. Sometimes Pap would take us in a wagon with a yoke of Oxen to pull it. And sometimes we would go horseback. When we would get ready to set out, Pap would help mother up on her horse and put Mack up behind her, and Jack in her lap. Until he could get up on his horse, he would set me up on the fence till he could get up. When he would get up I would start bawling, thought they were going to leave me standing on the fence, and Pap would threaten to whip me for being so silly. Me so small, I had to ride astride. But it was all right after we would get to Grandmother's. We just thought it the greatest place on earth. Their (Francis & Elizabeth McKaig) home then was over on the creek, where Bud Morrison now lives. Grandmother had Chickens, geese, turkeys and ducks, and so much nice fruit. She would very often kill a turkey when we would go. They had a spring house. They run the water through pipes made of logs, from a large spring at the foot of Lookout Mt. They put the logs under the ground and brought the water up nearly to the kitchen door. Had one log perpendicular and a large spout about three or four feet from the ground. The cold icy water flowed out into a large trough, and another trough carried it in to the spring house through troughs where she kept the milk & butter and anything else she wanted to keep cold. Of course, there was a stream of water running all the time, out of the back of the spring house. That was where those ducks played. I just thought they were the prettiest things I ever saw. They were the old f! ashioned kind. At the water spout was where us children wanted to play. It kept some of them busy keeping us out of the cold water. My great grandmother (Sarah) Sullinger lived with my grandmother (Elizabeth) during my childhood. She seemed to be very old then, when I was very small, but she lived until I was thirteen or fourteen years old. She was a good Christian woman. I have heard some of them, about her after she got to be so old. She was forgetful and got out her work on Sunday morning and would go to work and some of them would tell her it was Sunday. She would put it away, and it would grieve her so much because she was working on Sunday. She lived with Aunt Lina (Evelina Sullinger McKaig) her last days. Grandmother and Aunt Lina were Christian women. I loved Aunt Lina, of course I dearly loved my dear old grandmother. She was the most jovial and full of life, as long as she lived. I think she was 82 when she died. I never saw her very angry and never have any guile come out of her mouth. Everyone loved her that knew her. When I was small, I was a little afraid of my grandfather (Francis McKaig). Not that he ever even scolded me, but it seems he had a crabbed way of speaking that made me afraid of him. I suppose that it was the Irish that was in him, that caused his crabbedness. He seemed to think so much of my mother. On his death bed he told Grandmother, (Elizabeth) Sallie Ann was a good woman. I don't believe there ever was a better woman than my mother was. (Sarah Ann McKaig Morrison) I have often wished that I could have a lowly and contrite spirit like hers. I never did hear her talk (or tattle) anything that wasn't nice and becoming. I never did hear her fly into a fit of passion and say hard words to hurt anyone's feelings. She always got along nicely with neighbors and everybody, and was always so thoughtful of the poor and needy. I never knew her to turn anyone away that came to her in need. Poor old man Richman, who once lived up in he hollow, fooled my father when they bought their little home. They cetainly would have suffered if it had not been for my mother. She has helped them so much when they were on starvation. He and his wife were old and not able to work. They had to sell their home and go and live with their daughter. They are not the only ones she was good to, for she never turned anyone away that came to her in need. She did not like to give to people who were lazy and wouldn't try to work and have something. I have heard her say "What's the use of helping people that won't help themselves". But still she could not turn them off. When they came begging for something to eat. Poor Dear Mother did so much hard work during the first ten or twelve years of her married life. She could card, spin, weave and make cloth for our clothes, coverlids and counter paynes for the beds. I have some now that have been in use for sixty years, and if taken care of, will last sixty more. Mother and Father both worked so hard to gain something and to raise and educate their children, but the Civil war came up and knocked Education and everything else out for about six or seven years. Well, more about Uncle Jack and Aunt Lina. (Jack and Evelina Sullinger McKaig) I told you they had no children of their own, but raised Aunt Julia and they owned some negroes. A negro woman she had six children. Aunt Lina helped raise the old negro woman. Just before the war came up, Uncle Jack had a cancer to come on his lip. It ate up his face. My father went to see him often before he died. He made his will and willed four or those negroes to my father and mother. A negro woman and a girl about my age, about twelve years old, and a negro boy and a little negro boy. He willed the other two to Aunt Lina, a boy and girl, I think about sixteen and eighteen years old. The woman he willed to Pap and Mother was married, but Uncle Jack didn't own her husband. After Uncle Jack died, Pap had to wind up his estate. Then he moved Aunt Lina and all of those negroes down to the house with us. I have heard him say many times that he brought them the very day Old Abraham Lincoln took his seat. I don't know how long that was before the commencement of the war, but I do remember that we were much cramped and was until they build a house for the negroes. Aunt Nan Morrison lived with us then. We children thought it grand to have those negroes to help with the work. We all had lots of fun romping and playing together. Violet, the negro woman was a grand, smart negro. She was a Mulatto. We children thought there was no lady like Violet. The girl and I were great cronnies. We romped and played and had the biggest times together. I think we were at the top of every apple tree in that orchard, I told you about. We used to climb to the top of that old Mulberry tree that stood almost in front of the old house. But it wasn't so far to the back as it is now. It is a wonder we didn't break our necks. We would climb up in the barn loft to hunt eggs. We got along so nicely. Never had any falling out. Only about the churnning. I would try to make her churn and she would try to make me churn. I hated churning worse than any other kind of work, so we would fuss over it until mother would get after us. She would make me work just the same as if there was no negroes here, only I had more time to play and run about than I did before they came. Mother would make Candie (that was the girl's name) and me spin. She made cloth in those days. She would lay off our task for the day, and when we would get that done she would let us play. But Bill, the little negro boy was the meanest thing. He would get mad and squal and fight. I knocked two of his front teeth loose one day while we were all playing. He got mad and tried to fight me. I wouldn't take it off of him, so I tried to knock him down. Law, how he did squall. The blood just flew, but he left me alone after that. Baan was the oldest boy. Marian and Laurence were the two that Uncle Jack willed to Aunt Lina. Poor old Aunt. She thought as much of those two negroes as if they had been her own children, I reckon. Well, she was foolish about all of them. She raised them, I suppose was the reason. She was so silly about them that she and mother didn't get along so well on account of the negroes. So she took her two negroes and moved off to herself. She hired Marian to Aunt Harriet. She and the negroes and her mother lived in a house at the back of Aunt Harriet's where she lived then. I don't remember anything about how long they lived at Aunt's but they finally moved back to her home in Johnsons Crook near Rising Fawn, Georgia. Uncle Jack had willed the home to her as long as she lived, and then she lived there for several years. You know when the war ended, the negroes were set free. So the negro boy left her, but I think that the girl remained with her. At least I know she was when she took down sick, layed a long time and finally died. She had been married and she and her husband parted. I believe she must have gone back to her old mistress after she and her husband parted. After Lawrence died, our girl, Candie went and lived with Aunt Lina, but I don't remember how long. But she finally took sick and died. Then poor old Aunt was left alone. And then she got helpless and Aunt Eveline took her to her home and took care of her until she died. But my poor old mother was so proud to get rid of the negroes, when they were set free, for she never did want them. I don't know why. I wish I was as good a woman as the negro woman Violet was. She knew how to do any kind of work. She could cut and make clothes just like a white woman. She was so trustful mother would go off and stay all day and leave the baby and the rest of us in her care. She went to Chattanooga one day and left the baby with Violet. Sarah was the baby. And Annie Hale came to get her, to take her home with her to keep her all day. But Violet would not let her go. Although Annie begged and pleaded with her, she said she would take just as good care of her as she could. Violet told her NO! Mrs. Sarah had left her in her care, and she couldn't let her go. Annie got awful mad at poor Violet for trying to do her duty. Poor Mother worked just about as hard when the negroes were here as when they were not. She did not do the washing while they were here. As I told you before, they worked so hard to raise their children, and tried to give us our education. But we had very few schools for a while after the war. Mr. Benton Cole taught a very good school. I don't remember just how long after the war. I did not go to him, but the other children went. Everybody was very hard run after the war was over, and I didn't think I could fix up nice enough to go to school to a young man. But I took old clothes of Mother's and mine and fixed up clothes for the little girls, Julia and Sarah, and kept them going. Just wouldn't let them miss a day. Pap would carry them on the horses when it would be raining and go after them at evening. They sure did learn fast. But they had two other sorry schools before that. That I went to, but seemed like I didn't learn much, for they were poor teachers.! Then we all went to school over in Murphy's Holler, to a lady. It wasn't much of a school either, though better that none, I reckon. After that there was a young man made up a subscription school of five months. There had never been any fee school in Dade Co. up to this time. Pap sent all of us to this school only the baby. That was the best school. A large crowd of young men and women. He would make us all review at the end of every week what we had gone over. There were large grammar classes. He called one the big class and the other the little grammar. Brother Jack and I belonged to the big class, Julia and Sarah belonged to the little class. There was three or four Arithmetic Classes, and two or three Spelling classes. Another girl and I studied Geography together and at the end of five months the most of us knew what we had gone over. The last day, we had examinations. It lasted all day. We carried our dinners and stayed up there until evening. The old Academy wasn't very large. It was crowded with spectators. A crowd from Trenton ate dinner with us. We all did well with our studies, and everybody, or most of them bragged on our examinations. And that night we had an entertainment. We called it an exhibition. There were so many people, they couldn't near all get in the house. They were from Trenton, Whitesides, Morganville and from everywhere around. We had songs, dialogs, speeches and compositions and not a single one of us had ever been in an entertainment before. We sure did have a good one. At least everybody bragged wonderfully on it, so we felt like we came out Victorious. Well, the patrons were so well pleased with this young man's teaching my father and several other old men got after him to come back to teach the fall fee school, which was only for three months, and he accepted. This young man came from Coffee Co., Tennessee. He commenced his first school on the first day of March 1871 and closed some time in July. This young man's name was Rufus Henry Dabbs. After going to school to him five months, and him boarding here with us during the time, he and I got to thinking pretty well of each other, but had never made love, and don't know that we ever would, if he had not come back and taught the fall school. Tho that might have influenced him. I believe that he acknowledged afterwards that it did. But we did not take him to board. He boarded at Mr. Dugan's. I did not go for five or six weeks there, because there was so much work to do and I had been going all Spring and part of the Summer. I felt that I should stay at home and help mother and them. It wasn't very long after he came back till we were engaged. I suppose I thought I had education enough as I was going to get married. (Silly me) But if I had my time to go over, I would go on and learn all I could. We were engaged about one year and five months before we were married. So he came back again the next fall and taught for the fee money and he boarded at old Mr. Bennets's during that term, tho he came to see me quite often. The children, I mean Mother's children were perfectly foolish about him, and so was I. We were married March, 1873. The day we were married there were 20 here counting our two selves. Out of the 20 only 7 remains. Sister Sarah, Brother Lee, Bud Morrison, Nathan Cole, James Bennett and our two selves. Isn't it terrible, but it's 41 years after we were married. Your daddy went over in Tenn. and tried to make him up a school, but failed to get the one that he wanted. He decided to come back to Georgia and make a crop. So he rented the field next to the Williams garden from my father. There was no where else for us to live and keep house only in the Richmond Hollow, so on the 24th day of April, 1873 we moved up there. We wanted chickens and garden. Your daddy had a young mare. Mother gave me a cow and some hens. Pap gave me two shoats. The summer before we were married, your daddy made a crop over in Tennessee. When he came to Georgia he had a pen of corn to sell and a couple of yearlings, and he had a bunch of hogs. The first summer we lived in the hollow, it was very lonesome for me after living on the Public road all of my life where people were coming and going and passing all the time. Just think what a change, a mile up in the hollow with mountains all around. Then I would scarcely see anyone until someone would come to see me. I was alright when your daddy was with me. You see, he couldn't stay with me all the time, and work to make a living. I would go with him to the field some times to keep from staying by myself, and help him drop corn, but we had awful bad luck with our chickens. I had about 30 or 40 hatched out in the spring after we moved up there, but we had no dog and the varments caught most of them. Didn't raise any scarcely the first year, nor never did any good until we got a dog. We would fasten them up at night and the foxes would catch them in the daytime. In the summer after your daddy got through with his crop he and I took a trip over in Tenn. where he was raised. We went horseback. We started on Saturday after dinner, and went on the other side of Jasper and stayed all night, and made it there the next day a little after dark - 100 miles. I sure did enjoy the trip. We Crossed Cumberlain Mountain. The weather was very warm. We would get very thirsty and would have to stop at springs to get water. We carried our drinking cups with us so all we had to do was to find the spring. Well, it was after dark when we reached our destination. We spent the night with some people by the name of Trusell, whom your daddy was well acquainted with. When we got within a half of a mile of the house, your daddy hollered just as loud as he could, and the girls told their mother they heard Roof Dabbs holler and they didn't even know we were coming. The next day, we went to preaching. They had a protracted meeting going on at the Methodist Church. After preaching we went home with your daddy's Uncle Henderson Sherrell and his wife. We had dinner with them, we also spent the night with them. And we spent some of the time with his Uncle Henry and with his Uncle Bill's folks. His Uncle Bill had died just four days before we went. They all lived close together. Everybody seemed to be so proud to see us. Everybody treated us so nicely. I enjoyed my visit so much over there. A few days after we were there, Brother Jack (Morrison) came to help your daddy drive the hogs home. Uncle Frank (McKaig, Sally Ann's brother) was over here. He and Jack went over there together. He was on his way home. He lived in Bedford Co., Tenn. (Uncle Frank McKaig) We stayed there until Thursday, and started for home with our hogs. Your daddy had 2 sows and a bunch of shoats, about 10 or 12, and 3 good hogs to fatten for meat. He sold his yearlings rather than to drive them through. It was late in the morning when we got started for home, so we only got as far as Mr. Partons on top of the mountain. We stayed all night with old Mrs. Wells, who was Mrs. Patons sister. I was very bad off all that night, but was able to travel next day. And when we came on to this side of Cumberlain Mt. at the foot of the mountain we stopped and got our dinner, though it was way after dinner time. We got a very nice dinner. We enjoyed it so much, for we were very hungry. Then we came to the place where we stayed all night as we went over there. We stopped there and stayed all night again. The next day we came to the Tennessee river. We tried at two places to get to stay all night, but they wouldn't take us in. It was almost dark, and us with that drove of hogs, so we went to a house about a mile off the road. We got to stay all night. You see, we couldn't travel fast with those hogs and it was hot weather. The next day was Sunday, but we came on through, but it was in the evening when we got home. We took our hogs home and we put them up. We all came down here to my mother's and got our dinner. I think that Brother Jack, as well as myself enjoyed the trip very much. Everybody treated us so nicely and the trip didn't hurt me one bit. Well, we had to get back to our work. Rather, your daddy had to. I was poorly all that summer, wasn't able to do much hard work, but did my housework and washing and ironing. We commenced without scarcely anything in the house. We sure were poor. I cooked on the fire for about three years. We did without everything that we could rather than go in debt for things that we could do without. Though we always had plenty to eat, and we sure did believe in eating. Before we moved to ourselves, your daddy bought a lot of meat, sides, shoulders and hams. The cow that mother gave me had a young calf, so we just had all the milk and butter we could use. We raised a garden. We had all the vegetables we wanted. There was a nice apple orchard and we had lots and lots of nice good apples. There was so many nice blackberries all around the house. I would make all kinds of pies and dumplings. Your daddy was so very fond of them. I would almost break my neck to please him. I would keep my milk and butter in the little spring at the foot of the mountain, and could have such good milk and butter to eat with those pies and dumplings. We raised a patch of cabbage. They headed up in the summer and began to rot, so we made up a tub of kraut, and put it in the cave to keep it from spoiling. We had sweet and Irish potatoes to put up for the winter, and your daddy raised a patch of turnips. We planted peas in the corn. In the fall he pulled fodder, and I would go with him and pick peas. We had a lot of those little lady peas and the white black eyed peas. Oh, there wasn't very many of them, but we had all we wanted and some to sell. Your daddy fattened his three hogs, and put them up for our meat. We fattened the two that my daddy gave me and sold them, as the three were plenty for us. We have never been without meat for these 40 years until last summer. I tell you this to show you the difference in those that work and try to have something, and those that don't. The people that lived up in that hollow several years before we did always seemed to be on starvation half the time. There were men and children to work. Of course your daddy didn't depend entirely on the hollow for a living, but we raised all the vegetables then that we could use after we had a large family, except sweet potatoes. He would have them in the field where he would have his corn. Well, on January 27, 1874 our child was born. We were proud of our boy. I just thought he was the grandest thing on earth. I thought that he was the prettiest little baby I ever saw, and everyone that saw him said he was pretty. Well, I didn't go to the field and help plant corn the next spring, for I thought I had my hands full, not very stout and a baby to care for. In the summer after Albert was born, and after your daddy got his crop made, he taught school a while at the old Academy, and I would go with him to help him. We carried Albert with us. We would ride horseback and carry a quilt along to make him a pallet to set and lay on when he was asleep. The little girls would all nearly eat him up. At play time he was very little trouble to me, but I didn't keep business up long, for I had too much at home to do. On January 9, 1875, our next baby was born, another boy, and Albert couldn't walk alone. But he soon went to walking, and of course he was more trouble than the little one, till warm weather came. In the spring after Marbert was born, Brother Jack and some other boys, Bud Taylor, Henry Jacoway, and Charley Duboise all rigged up and took a trip to Texas. Bud Taylor was Hassell Taylor's father and Henry was William Jacoway's brother. Charley Duboise was a brother to Shade Hale's mother. (Bond Hale's kinfolks) They were young men then, you know. My father gave Jack a horse and saddle. The other boys had a hack or some kind of a vehicle, so they traveled through by land. Jack went through Memphis. The others took another route. Jack sold his horse in Memphis and carried his saddle. (Walked and carried it) I don't know how long it was before he sold it. I think he came almost being arrested. I don't know if he and the other boys ever got together or not. Anyway, Jack went on through. After he got there, he went in with Cousin George Morrison, who lived out there. He moved from Dade Co. They made a crop of cotton, and after they had it baled they lost it. It was destroyed by fire. So Brother Jack was left flat. He wrote to Pap for money to come home on, and he sent him money enough to bring him home. After he got the money he decided to try his luck on something else, and went in with some kind of a show. I think he lost all in that. So he made him up a school, and I think that he was getting along fine with that. He sent a picture home of his school. It seemed to be a large school, and a good many grown boys and girls. I don't remember how long he had been teaching when he took sick and died. The man that he boarded with wrote to Pap that he had been poorly for several days. The man said he and his wife had to go several miles to attend court and took Jack and left him with the doctor. As they had to be gone several days. He said that Jack taken suddenly bad off and died before morning. The man signed his name N. B. Mars. He said that Jack was a good moral man, and well thought of by everybody. He wrote to Pap that he would send his clothes and things if he wanted him to, but I don't think he ever did write to him at all. We never heard any more about him. So that was my first sorrow. He died in the fall before Sally was born. Dear sweet brother, he was always such a good boy, and was always so good to me, so good to go to church with me, or anywhere else I wanted him to take me. You know, I loved him so much it almost broke my heart when I heard that he had died. I knew that I could never see him any more. We were all so foolish about him, and everyone thought so much of Jack, for he was such a good boy. Never heard of him being into any meanness at all. A year or two before your daddy came over here to teach, Jack had a spell of very bad sickness - Pneumonia or Typhoid fever. He came very near dying then. I guess that it would have been more satisfaction to Dear Mother if he had been taken then, than for him to be spared to go so far from home and die among strangers. Pap thought lots of Jack too. He wanted so much to give him an education. He sent him to several good schools. Besides the one he went to your daddy, he went to two or three good schools in Trenton. It was so sad for such a good and well educated man to be taken away. He was about 26 years old. Poor mother had many trials. But I suppose Brother Mack (William McKaig Morrison) was her greatest burden. You know what a weak mind he had. I have heard her say when he was a little boy he was a very bright child. He had a spell of Ereycipleas in his head and face. It came very near killing him, and it injured his mind, so he was never so bright any more. And after he was nearly grown he had another of Ereycipleas in his head and face and that came very near killing him. That spell affected his mind worse than ever. It seemed like the older he got the weaker his mind became. Mother just had to watch after him like he was a little child. Tho he was always industrious and would work and do such things as he could do. Well, for several years he could plow or do most any kind of work in the field, but he never could learn. They used to send him to school but he never could learn to read, it seemed like. It worried them so because he couldn't learn, especially Pap. Well, you know he got to where they quit sending him to the field to work much, but he was always so good to help mother in the fruit and everything and carried water and cut wood. Mother seemed to be perfectly foolish about Mack. If he was out anywhere from the house and would be gone longer than she thought he should, she would send someone to hunt him. She could never go to bed at night until she knew Mack was safely in. The night she died, just a little while before she passed away, she asked if Mack ever got in. Poor old mother, she had the care of him all his life, and he was on her mind in her dying hour. She could not go to her long rest without knowing that Mack was safely in. I trust that they are both safely in the fold where there is no more anxiety to mar their peaceful rest. Well, I better go back to my subject. When Marbert was a baby, he was a puny little thing all summer, and in the fall he had a bad spell, and we came very near losing him. We carried him out to Cole City to Dr. Davie. We stayed all night and didn't get to see the DR. so we came home and your Pa went after Dr. Deakings away down at Wildwood, and he didn't get there till the next morning and he gave him some medicine and left some for us to give him. He got well, but the Dr. told your daddy afterwards that he didn't have but very little hope for him, when he was there and saw him. Well, January 1, 1876, our next child was born. Another boy, and Marbert couldn't walk, So I had three babies to tend to, and to tell which was the most trouble. On December 25, 1876 our fourth boy was born and the oldest was not three years old and Frank couldn't walk. There were four babies to tend to. Talk about working, I wasn't able to do my cooking and tend to those babies. Your daddy kept a woman hired for nearly four months afterwards. He paid her one dollar a week. It was old Lizzy Hughes. She certainly was a good hand, and so good to help me with the children. But we were so hard run, and your Pa had to work so hard. Seemed like we couldn't afford to keep a woman any longer. So I hold him if he would buy me a cook stove, I thought I could get along without Lizzie with his help. So we let her go. Your Pa was always good to help me with the work and with the children. He would do most of the cooking when I would feel too bad. He did all the milking and carried most all of the water. He hired the washing done. Don't you know it was awful hard on him to do all of his own work and have to do so much of mine. But I did all I possible could and more than I was able. On February 18, 1878 our fifth child was born - a girl. That was Sallie and Ed couldn't walk. Sallie was very puny, weakly thing. It didn't look like we could ever raise her. Well, on June 17, 1879 our sixth child was born - another boy. That was Will. So your daddy had to just keep hustling. But never complained of so many children. We didn't care. We were proud of our children, and am yet. We thought it was grand to have so many fine looking boys and pretty girls. Everybody bragged on them, and said they were such fine and good looking boys and pretty girls. On November 18, 1880, our seventh child was born - another girl, and that was little Ethel, who died February 14, 1881. During her life she was a delicate little flower and never seemed well. I think she taken cold before she died. She wasn't sick only a few days. She didn't cry but very little during the time she was sick. Didn't seem to be very much the matter with her, only she would scream when I would lift her up. I doctored her, but she didn't seem to get any better. So your daddy went after the doctor on Sunday morning. He didn't come but sent her some medicine. I gave it by the directions and she seemed to be resting easy that night so we went to bed with her. After midnight, she seemed to be fretting. I got up with her and attended to her. She looked at the light and her eyes looked so bright. I know that death had struck her, but I didn't think of such a thing then, for we thought she was better. Poor little darling, that she was, so I went to bed with her, and went to sleep. A little before daylight, she awakened me. She was kinda fretting. I tried to get her to nurse, but she wouldn't. So I thought she wasn't hungry. And as she didn't cry, I dropped off to sleep. As I was always so worn out. In the morning before I got up I looked at her and she seemed to be asleep. So I didn't bother her. I went to the kitchen and cooked breakfast. I couldn't put it on the table until I could go and see about the baby. When I looked at her she was dead. The poor little darling. I knew that she was dead when I looked at her. Your Pa was gone to the spring for water. I ran to the door and told him the baby was dead. He just sat the bucket of water down and ran into the house to see if I wasn't mistaken. But when he looked at her he said Yes she is gone! His father was living with us. He sent him after, or to tell my folks, and they all went just as soon as they could get there. My children did without their breakfast until they got there and gave it to them, for I was so grief stricken I didn't think of breakfast. But the thing that has always grieved me most was because we didn't know she was so bad off, so that we could have sat up with her and attended to her better. I have never gotten over it, with myself for not staying up with her that last night. I have taken many a cry over it. And it seems just as fresh in my memory today as if it had been but yesterday. I have not grieved because the Lord took the little darling, for I know that she is with the Angels, and out of the world of sin, sorrow, pain and trouble. But have grieved over the way she went, and felt it was our neglect, and I would give worlds were they mine to give, if I only could call the time back, and take that precious little darling in my arms and sit down in the corner and hold her on my lap till Jesus took her for his own. You know I felt so lonely and so sad for a long time after my baby died. You know I had been having a baby to attend to for seven years. I mean a small baby, and had two or three for six years, though not so small, I mean some of them. Well, having no baby to attend to for nearly two years, I worked myself to death. I put together and quilted several quilts. You see, I hadn't been able to quilt for so long, and didn't have the chance if I had been able, and so many children coming on. I was half in need of quilts. Although I had hired several quilts made, so many boys to kick them out, so I worked hard. Made all I could and did my other work and sent the children to school. I think the four oldest went. Your daddy taught at the Academy. He taught a school at Cole City in the summer before Ethel was born. Albert and Marbert went with him. They sure did learn fast. Albert was just five years old, the first school he ever went to. Marbett was five, Frank was five the first school he went to. Edd was four years old. Albert learned his letters before he was three years old, and we taught him to spell, and then he taught Marbert his letters, and taught him to spell. Well, on October 9, 1882, our eighth child was born - another boy and that was Orville. On February 18, 1884, our ninth child was born - another girl, and that was Elsie. She was a very tiny little thing and awful cross all spring and summer, all thru the day, but good at night. On July 5, 1885, our tenth child was born, and that one we called Nettie. All that summer and fall, I was in awful health - could not have done my cooking if the older children had not been large enough to help me. I was not able to lift a feather bed. All summer and fall I thought sure I had Consumption. But you were such a good baby. You weren't much trouble. In the winter, on Christmas day, we moved out of the hollow to the lower place. I was so proud to get out of that hollow. I was getting sick and tired of living there. I believe that I would have died if I had stayed longer. We hadn't been moved but a few days till there came a big snow. Then it turned off cold, and we had the coldest spell of weather I ever saw. It came before we got things straightened up. Didn't get the cook stove up, and had to cook on the fire for a few days. We sure had a time of it. It kept your Pa and the boys busy cutting and carrying in wood to keep us from freezing. But after the cold weather was over I enjoyed living there. My health got better, and I felt so much stouter. You know your daddy built a house right in the middle of a large thicket of trees and sapplings. They trimmed it out till it was a pretty place to live, up on a hill where we could see all around, and could see the trains go by. But the water was so far away. The boys had to carry it. It was a good place for the chickens. I raised lots and lots of them. And Oh! how we did enjoy eating fried chicken. Twelve in the family, you know it took two or three to make a meal, especially when we had company. Well, that fall your daddy taught another school. It was at the academy. I sent six children to school. So I had seven to fix up dinners for. On March 5, 1887, our eleventh child was born. That was May. She was a very puny little thing till she was two or three years old. Didn't look like we could raise her. I had to get up at nights with her. Sometimes two or three times during the nights, till she was about two or three months old. One evening after she was three or four months old I commenced to bathe her. She looked so white and lifeless I thought sure she was dying. I sent some of the children to the field after your daddy. He hurried to the house, and I told him that I believed that she was dying. He looked at her and felt of her pulse. He said No, she isn't dying but awful sick at the stomach. But she got better before morning, and I went to church with her. It was Sunday. In the fall we moved to the Hearld place. (New England) After we had been there a while May had another bad spell. Looked like she couldn't live, but I worried long with her. She began to grow stronger and went to crawling. Then she was into all kinds of badness. One day, she crawled up the stairway in the hall, and I heard her rolling down. She came down tumbling and bumping. I ran but she was at the bottom when I got there. I didn't know which was scared the worst, she or I. It didn't hurt her though. We had a garden down below the house. One morning I was down there working when May crawled out on the back porch. The porch was very high off the ground. She started toward the edge, just throwing up her little hands and laughing. I ran just as hard as I could but she beat me and got to the edge before I got to her and over she tumbled to the ground on her head. I just thought she was almost killed, but it didn't hurt her much. Along in the fall after that, she was missing one day. I hunted all around in the house for her and everywhere around the house and calling her, but couldn't hear anything of her. I was frightened and didn't know what to do. I started out at the kitchen door. The smokehouse was in front of the kitchen door. There was a loft in it and a window that went into the loft from the outside. There was a ladder to go up to the window into the loft. I just happened to look up and there she sat, up in that loft, as still as a mouse. She had climbed up that ladder. If she had not been sitting where I could see her, I don't know when I ever would have found her. She was so still, I never would have thought she could have climbed that ladder without falling, but I got her down safely. There was an old well in front of the kitchen door covered with a plank, and I was awful scared that she might jump in there some day. But the planks were too heavy for her to move. She never did get in the well. I don't remember of any other very bad scrapes that she ever got in to. On August 29, 1889 our twelfth child was born. Another girl, and it was Hassell. When she was three or four weeks old, a company of men came from the North and boomed up the little town of New England. Mr Herald sold them their place where we were living. Your Pa had the place leased and it lacked two years of being out. So he made them pay him three hundred dollars before he could give up his possessions, and then he wouldn't move until Christmas, or the day before. We pulled up and moved back to the lower place. In the fall of 1890 Hassell had a bad spell. It came on suddenly. I was sitting on the porch with her on my lap. My father was there. We were talking and she was nursing. All of a sudden, she threw her head back and closed her eyes and shut her mouth tight. I jumped up with her and ran around shaking her, asking Pap what is the matter with her? I thought she was dead. But she came back to life. Although I was very worried about her and your daddy was gone from home, I didn't know what to do. So Pap went home and sent Sarah down there to stay all night with us. Mother sent me word, Hassell must have had a fit caused by worms. She had another one after Sarah got there. So I sent after another woman to stay all night with me. We all three sat up and doctored and worked with her all night. She had one hard fit after another until we got them stopped. I sent after some worm medicine and gave her a dose or two. We put hot clothes on top of her head. An old lady sent me word to do that. I never had a child in that fix before, and I didn't know what to do, for I didn't know what was the matter. The worm medicine helped. We thought she was getting along all right, but later in the fall, I think it was in November, she took bad off again, and your Pa went after the Dr. for her. He came and gave her a dose of medicine, and left another does for us to give her in case she vomited up the first one after he was gone. She vomited it up. Then we gave her the other dose and it stayed with her. The doctor told your Pa, if she had vomited the second dose, he could not have saved her. She came very near dying anyway. Your Pa went back after the Doctor the next morning. He came and stayed all day. While they all ate dinner I got down beside her cradle and prayed to my Heavenly Father to spare my little darling if it was His will. But, I said Thy will be done. Not mine, Oh Lord. My dear old Mother and sister, Betty were there and stayed all night. Betty and I sat up half of the night. Your Pa and Mr. Alison sat up the balance of the night. I don't remember just how long she was sick, and forgot whether the Dr. came back or not. I thought he told your Pa afterwards that he had no hopes of her the day he spent the day with her. I think she had Pheumonia fever. I know it was several days before she could eat a bite. When she did begin to improve, she just cried nearly all the time for something to eat. Your Pa was so afraid I would give her too much. He just stayed in the house with her to watch over her. Mrs. Commings and Mrs. Gentry came one morning to see her. She was bawling just like something was killing her. They flew around making tea and trying to help us doctor her. We thought she had the colic, but we found out she was just starving, and was crying for something to eat. Poor little thing, I was so sorry for her, I couldn't keep from crying, for we were afraid to give her much at a time. We never had any peace with her until she got to where we could give her all she wanted, and that was several days. I never can forget how pitiful she would look when she would cry for something to eat. She would nurse but that didn't satisfy her for she didn't get much. Her daddy was perfectly foolish over her. Well, after Hassell got well and sometime in January, Dear Sister Betty died. You know she died in Chattanooga, but they brought her out here and buried her in the Bethelhem Graveyard, and about eighteen days after she died my dear old mother took sick and died. You know I told you when brother Jack died that was my first grief, and when my baby died was my next grief. I forgot to tell you in less than ten years after my baby died my dear old Grandmother died. She was here at my mother's when she took sick and didn't live many days. In the spring before you were born, your Grandfather Dabbs died. He took his bed in the fall. He was down seven months before he died. He lost his mind after he got sick. We had to feed him and attend to him just like a baby. The boys and I sure did have a time with him for two or three months before he died. He was perfectly delierious. We couldn't hardly keep him in the bed, till he got so weak he couldn't get out. I think he died on May 18, 1885 before you were born in July. So you know that I wasn't in much of a fix to worry with him. I don't know what I would have done if it had not been for my boys. They were so good to help wait on him. They would make the bed and wash the bed clothes for I was not able, and it had to be done every day or two. You Pa had so much to do. He just couldn't stay in the house all the time, but had to let the boys or some of them stay with him all the time toward the last. Well, after my mother died we moved up here. Your Pa rented the farm and came here to take care of my father, Mack and Sarah and to take care of the home. We had to build us a home to live in. After Hassell was seven years and five months old Dock was born. You know something about what a time I had from then on. But it wasn't near as heard on me as it was when the older children were small. For Dear Sallie, you know was grown, and the rest were large enough to be lots of help. Well, you know my dear old daddy died and Sister broke up housekeeping. She went away to make her own living, so we took over Mack and kept him till he died. We have worked hard and economized and raised our children and gave them a pretty good education and saved up money and bought our home and built us a house. Now our children are all married and gone except our baby children. I don't suppose it will be long till they will be gone. Yes all gone and most of them have homes of their own and little tots of their own to care for. When the other two leave, we will have this large old farm and on one to work it, and this big old house and nobody to live in it but our two selves. But you know, it can't be too long till our toils will be over and all will go in hands of strangers. So what is the benefit of toiling for others to reap? If only it could go into the hands of some of our children, I could be better satisfied about it. Maybe you all can make someone pay a good price for it. But there is so many of the children that there won't be much argument if it is divided up. Well, I guess that I have worried you enough and better bring this thing to a close. You see, it has been five years since I began it. Of course it has lain up for months untouched. But many friends and some loved ones have passed away from this earth since I commenced this biography, so thought I would hurry up and finish it before I might be called away. You know, our poor Dear Sallie was taken away on July 24, 1911. That has been the greatest trial in my life. Didn't feel for a long time that I could ever get over it. And later on Albert's little Gladys was taken away. Then January 30, 1914 my dear sister Julia (Octavia) was taken away. I told you at the beginning, I had always wanted to be good and do right and treat everybody right. But I was never converted until I was eighteen years old. I went to church one night with two other girls. One was Annie Hale. You know, Julia and Annie Hale were my very dearest friends. In my childhood days and after we were grown. I mean outside of home, we were almost raised together. They seemed more like sisters than cousins. Well, the other girl that went to church with me, Ollie Dubose, who afterwards became Shade (Hale's) mother. Ollie and I went into the church house together, went and took our seats in the very back end of the house, which was very large and but a few people in it. I don't know what on earth possessed us to go away back there to ourselves, or I don't know what made us sit back there and make fun of the preacher, for I had never done such a thing before in my life. But that is what we did and the preacher saw us. But I never did know whether he thought we were laughing or crying. I know he preached right at us and got us to crying. He came down to where we were sitting and commenced talking to us. We sure did bawl. I suppose we were deeply convicted for he had us down on our knees before he left us. I certainly did repent of the way I had acted. After that, I would go to the mourner's bench every opportunity I had and was a mourner for fifteen years. I would feel discouraged sometimes. I thought that I would die and be lost, but I was determined to never quit praying while I had breath. After I was married and had so many little children, I didn't have much chance to go to church for several years. And after I had been married ten years, I was in bad health, and I go to reading my Testament a lot, and began to get uneasy for fear I was going to die and be lost. I would pray and read. One day I was lying on the bed reading in Romans and I began to have faith in Jesus and to believe He would save me from my sins. Then I began to feel better. I had been feeling awful bad over my condition. Then I got up and went in the kitchen to wash the dishes, and while washing them I commenced to sing good old hymns. Amazing Grace, How Sweet The Sound That Saved A Wretch Like Me. Then I began to feel so happy. I got to the verse, Yes, this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease. I shall possess within the viel of life joy and peace. And right along then a strange feeling came over me. I hardly knew what I was doing. I know I must have been shouting. For I was feeling very happy. I believe the Lord had blessed me. And I was determined to try to serve Him. But it was eight years before I ever had an opportunity to join the church and be Baptized. You know, I joined at New Liberty and I was emersed in the creek down below Mr. Cole's with two other women. I have tried to live a Christian life, and felt like I was alright, until I heard the Holiness people preach and talk, that you have to be sanctified before you can be saved. I used to feel very disappointed over it at times, and have been praying for twelve years for the Lord to sanctify my heart that I may live a Holy life, but as yet, I have never received that blessing. I'm going to live hoping and praying the Blessing will come. I guess that I don't have the faith that I should have. I wonder somethines if there is anyone that lives a pure and Holy like without sin at all. Well, I have tried to live right and treat everybody right, and I've tried to do my duty. I have been true to my husband and tried to be faithful to my children, but my faith has not been strong with roses. For I have come through joy and sorrows, griefs and woes, afflictions and trials that no heart knows but a mother's heart would know. But by God's Grace and tender mercy, I have been spared to raise my dear children, children that my mother should be proud of. When I look on the past, I think if I had my time to live over, I would try to live a different life. I'd teach my children more about Jesus. For I feel that I haven't done my duty in that line. I have prayed to live and to raise them, and to see every one of them converted to God and living Christian Lives. But I sometimes feel that my time on earth is short. But when my trials on earth are over I hope the Blessed Lord will give me a bright rich reward. I hope that we will all neet in Heaven without a single one being lost. Then we can get together around that great white throne with Jesus and the Angels to sing His praises forever more. I will leave this Biography for you to finish as you see fit. Farewell, dear children. I want you all to meet me in heaven, where pain and sorrow can never come and there will never be no more Good Byes. Your Loving Mother Mrs Minerva Dabbs MARRIED R. H. Dabbs of Coffee County, Tennessee And Minerva Morrison of Dade County, Georgia on the 26th day of March, 1873 at S. H. Morrison's by Justice of Peace for Dade County, Ga. Henrey Bennett Witness N. W. Cole Witness W. G. Morrison }