Wayne County, NC - Collections

Posted with the permission of Kathleen King Weiss, daughter of the
author of this autobiography.

Written by Sarah Virginia "Jennie" Jones, granddaughter of Newman and 
Susan Marinda Lewis Potts, Sr, Wayne Co, NC, daughter of Matthew and 
Susan Marinda Potts Jones.


                      FOOT STEPS IN THE SAND


     Once upon a time - which happened to be February 17, 1887, an event 
took place at the home of Matthew Mile and Susan Marinda Potts Jones, 
which, though of no particular importance to the world at large, 
nonetheless, was the beginning of a new life for me.

     According to the report of my brother Redic, he was aroused from 
sweet dreams and restful slumber in the early hours of the morning and 
dispatched with haste to the cabin of old Nancy Blount, the colored mid-
wife, whom he escorted to the bedside of my mother where this eventful 
incident was destined to precipitate my debut into a strange world of 
past affluence and present post-war poverty. Yes, I was born on the 
fringe of the "Reconstruction" days, and in the very path of Sherman's 
March to the Sea, some twenty five years before.

     By the time the sun had risen behind the pine crested horizon, I had 
won the marathon, and had arrived at the port of entry about thirty 
minutes ahead of my twin sister who never could keep up with me. Although 
I won the race, she stole most of the spotlight by having a more 
difficult struggle to survive. We had both been over anxious for less 
cramped quarters and had made our appearance seven or eight weeks before 
the scheduled time of arrival; however with the help of the mid-wife and 
the constant care of grandma and mother we were pulled through the first 
hurdle and over the top. After which I asked no odds from anyone, sucking 
my sugar tit in contentment while everyone fussed over my puny twin 
sister, who, not being satisfied with stealing the first act, now 
contrived to get all the attention by breaking out in a rash, thereby she 
received double attention, and was carried around on soft downy pillows 
for a while.

     I was one of the youngest of twelve sons and daughters. My parents 
belonged to that class in the South called the "poor but proud" or the 
"genteel poor". If I ever asked myself what we had to be proud of, I did 
it in silence, and true to the unwritten law and unspoken code of the 
family, proud I was.

     I actually did not know we were poor, I had the things I desired 
most, and all I expected. One misses only the things he has become 
accustomed to. I was more inclined to pity others than to envy them, they 
might have better clothes and finer homes, but I was sure I had the most 
wonderful parents in the world, and that no amount of wealth could 
compensate for such a blessing.

     Frankly, I was one of the richest little poor girls that ever dug 
her bare toes into the deep white sand along the cow trails around Dudley 
and Everettsville, in Wayne County, North Carolina. 

     It was sometime before I was able to fathom the meaning of the 
familiar phrase "before the mill burned down" or "after the mill burned 
down" which seemed to indicate a dividing line of some kind, and that is 
what it proved to be, the dividing line between prosperity and poverty. 
As this catastrophe happened before I was born, I was spared the dubious 
unhappiness of learning to do without the things I had become accustomed 
to. No doubt the older children missed some comforts and small luxuries, 
which us younger ones never knew. I must confess I was a woman and had 
left childhood home before I fully realized how few were the years 
between my birth and the end of the "War Between The States". I remember 
one day, a strange young Negro man came to our house, and when mother 
recognized him, she was very delighted to see him, she began questioning 
him about his mother, where she lived, what she was doing, etc.. After he 
had gone, we hurried to ask her who he was. We were told he was the son 
of one of grandfather Potts' slaves. She had not seen him since he was a 
little boy. He called her "Miss Susan", as he had when she was a young 
woman and he a little slave. I thought nothing of gathering pieces of 
rare old china in the fields, which might have dropped from the sassafras 
bushes or the cotton and corn stalks, for all the curiosity to excite in 
us children as we picked the broken bits up to play with. And the 
blackened ruins with their crumbling chimneys, standing amid old groves 
of ancient elms and oaks, where flowering shrubbery was still struggling 
for survival in the tangled mass of briers and half grown saplings, was 
just as common. Though old Everettsville was completely destroyed during 
the war, it is still a mystery to me how that broken china got scattered 
so far and wide.

     The home of Matthew and Susan Potts Jones, though modest and humble, 
was always clean and well kept and from the manner of my parents, might 
have been a mansion, no apology or excuse was ever made for comforts or 
luxuries which were lacking. I believe for such a large family, our home 
was rather orderly and refined, this no doubt being due to the fact that 
pa's and ma's word was law, and though kindly spoken, was none the less 
binding. They would not tolerate loud talking, boisterous playing, or 
quarreling and fighting in the house. We learned at an early age to curb 
our temper and bridle our tongues, at least when our parents happened to 
be near. There is another lesson I am grateful to my parents for 
teaching, whether by precept or example - to love one another, and to 
respect each other's rights. "Do unto others as you would have them do 
also unto you" was a much quoted proverb in our home. And onethat has had 
a lasting effect on my life. Whenever a misunderstanding arises, though I 
may act or speak too hastily, I immediately begin to put myself in the 
other persons place, and to ask myself if I have acted as I would want 
him to act. These thoughts usually lead to an apology and making amends.

     When I decided to write my story, I didn't know where to start, I 
had to face the fact that as far as I knew I had never done anything of 
great importance in my entire life. Indeed, I came from a surrounding 
that was anything but conducive to the encouragement and development of 
daring deeds or spectacular accomplishments. However, I do share a few 
things in common with the greatest and noblest of the earth. I was born 
to have lived and shall die; between birth and death is life, filled with 
vast and varied experiences, which differ according to time, place, and 
the conditions under which we labor, and the capabilities with which one 
is endowed. I am reminded of the mountain and the squirrel - "If I am not 
as large as you, you are not so small as I". It has pleased me to go back 
as far as my mind can carry me, and it has been a most pleasant 
experience for me.

     I have journeyed back to the days of long ago, traversed again the 
dimly remembered trails leading up through the many phases of my 
existence, I've haunted the musty halls of time, followed the fleeting 
images of bygone days, listened to the echoes of the past, resounding 
like ghostly footsteps along the winding corridors of memory, finally 
penetrating the nebulous mists surrounding my infancy, and have come at 
last to the first thing I remember perhaps it is only the shadow of a 
memory - my first step.

     Yes, I think I remember my first step. Sometimes while watching a 
baby learning to walk, a vague memory stirs within me, and I seem to 
recall letting go of some supporting object, probably my mother's hands, 
and plunging forward to grasp another object, to which I clung in safety 
and triumph. Again, I seem to remember standing at the top of a stairway, 
looking down fearful of attempting the dangerous descent alone. I cannot 
remember calling for help, but it seems that someone carried me down.

     This must have happened at grandpa Potts' old home, where mother 
lived as a child, and where I was born, for the place we moved to from 
there had no stairway. After my first steps I must have rested on my 
laurels, for I can recall nothing else with any degree of clarity until 
the day we left the "Potts' place" when I was about three years of age 
and moved to the "Giles Place", a farm owned by Giles Kornegay.

     The reason for this move was because there was no house on the land 
mother inherited from her father's estate. Her portion lay next to land 
on which the house stood, and she was allowed to live there for several 
years, now the owner either wanted to live there or rent it, and so, the 
move to the Kornegay farm. This farm lay west of Goldsboro, in what is 
known as the "Quaker Neck District", near the Steven's Mill.

     I cannot remember leaving the old home, it was as if I found myself 
suddenly in a strange new world, bound for an unknown destination. I 
remember being seated among soft comfortable bedding on top of a load of 
household goods. I know now that is what it was. The wagon was creaking 
and bumping along a narrow road that wound through a green forest of 
pines. I could hear the tinkle of a bell which seemed to follow us; I 
learned later that old Suke, the family cow, had been tied behind the 
wagon. I was drowsy and must have fallen asleep as I cannot remember who 
was driving the wagon.

     The arrival at the old gray farmhouse was much more clear in my 
mind. I was lifted down from my cozy nest and soon found myself seated on 
grandpa Jones' knee; I believe my twin sister was on the other. 
Remembering my early exuberance, I suspect I was held to keep me out of 
mischief while the furniture was being unloaded. That was the first and 
last time I have any recollection of being held on grandpa's lap. He was 
a rather stern appearing man and the fact that he had but one eye made 
him appear even more forbidding. There were conflicting stories as to how 
he lost his eye. Some said he lost it in a duel with swords - there were 
rumors that he was quite a sport in his younger days; others maintained 
he lost it in a rough and tumble fight with a ruffian who clawed it our 
with his fingers. This leads me to believe that no one ever actually 
pinned him down to the truth or details of the story. It doesn't matter 
except that the highly colored stories and his somber appearance caused 
me to look on him with more awe and morbid speculation than love. No 
doubt he was a fine man and I never heard of any irregularities in his 
later life. Both he and grandma were staunch Primitive Baptists. I cannot 
remember when I first saw grandma nor when I learned to love her; I 
imagine it was simultaneously. She was a jolly little Scotch-Irish woman 
with twinkling eyes and a cherrie word for everybody. She was the mother 
of thirteen children, nearly all of them seemed to inherit her happy 
attitude towards life. They all possessed good voices, as well as musical 
talent.

     Although I was born at the Potts' Place near Dudley, Wayne County, I 
have always felt that my life began at the Giles Place, for 'twas there I 
first remember "pa and ma, my brothers and sisters"; there I seemed to 
emerge from my cocoon and beheld the beautiful world around me. I found 
it a wonderful and interesting world. The most wonderful and interesting 
thing about it was my family as they began to emerge from some obscure 
place and take on flesh and blood as they made their appearance one by 
one. Nine brothers and sisters - Julius and Jesse had not been born and 
little Mathew died before my birth. What my past relationship with my 
family had been, I can only judge by my regard for them as they entered 
my life with first memories.

     I regard my father as a great and wonderful man and imagined him to 
be a person of importance in the world - had he not been too hard with 
perhaps a little assistance from General Robert E. Lee (whom he 
resembled) and General Joseph E. Johnston, killed all the dragons and bad 
boogy men so that little girls had nothing to be afraid of. I thought he 
was as handsome as General Lee whose picture hung the wall, beside that 
of General "Joe" Johnston.

     Mother soon assumed the position of the hub of the family life, 
around which we all revolved. She fed us when we were hungry, comforted 
us when we were hurt, and nursed us when sick. I cannot remember clearly 
having castor oil and epsom salts forced between my clinched teeth, the 
very thought of either makes me shudder, even now.

     I recall standing in the foot-tub in the kitchen while mother bathed 
me, I suppose the thing that stamped this on my memory was the entrance 
of my brother, Redic, and his teasing remark about me to mother, like 
Eve, I beheld that I was naked, and longed for a fig leaf.

     I knew without the shadow of a doubt that I had the best and 
loveliest mother in the world, yet I am afraid I took advantage of her 
love, and good nature, as so many children do. I have forgotten how old a 
certain despicable little girl was, when after begging to be allowed to 
go visiting with her lovely mother, she decided on her way home, it would 
be fun to have a piggy-back ride, so she started lagging behind 
complaining about how tired she was and just couldn't take another step. 
After trying unsuccessfully to convince the little imposter she was not 
that tired, mother squatted down in the road and I climbed on her neck to 
have my piggy-back ride. I remember, I felt too guilty to get much fun 
out of the ride, and soon slid to the ground and trotted behind mother, 
relieved to be an honest child again.

     Perhaps, this is the place to introduce the rest of the family I 
became involved with at the Giles Place. I will begin with my twin sister 
Julia, who was about the same age as me. She was a little taller and 
prettier too. We were always together; where one went, the other wanted 
to go, what one had the other had to have, what one did, the other tried 
to do. If she was taller and prettier, I had my advantages, I was 
healthy, could run faster, jump higher and skin-the-cat quicker than she 
could, although I will have to admit, she was a good sport and tried to 
keep up with me. It is a wonder she lived through it! The only thing I 
disliked about her was that she cried so easily and I couldn't, this made 
me always appear to be the blame in all our squabbles, when, sometimes, I 
wasn't.

     William P. was the eldest of my brothers and sisters, therefore he 
was esteemed most by his little sisters, to whom he was always kind and 
pleasant. He was studious and intelligent and a general favorite with his 
family and friends and no doubt deserving of the admiration they had for 
him. He was very bashful and never went steady with the girls for fear 
they would expect him to propose to them. He had one love but lost her 
because he didn't know how to ask her to marry him. Years later he 
married a widow with children - he was then about forty. We always 
suspected that she did the proposing.

     Redic Hannon, the second of the Jones' children, was dashing and 
handsome and didn't appear to suffer much with bashfulness, as Willie 
did. He had a way with the ladies and was popular with the younger set, 
but was not as understanding with his brothers and sisters as Willie was, 
however, he bought me and Julia the most beautiful dolls we ever owned. 
He could ride standing up on his horse's back, which made me very proud 
of him.

     Saphronia Ann was the first girl in the family and was sandwiched in 
between four boys; she was also the first granddaughter in both father's 
and mother's families, so it was but natural that she was the idolized 
darling of her grandparents and her adoring young uncles and aunts. The 
trial of being one girl among four brothers probably off-set much of the 
over indulgence of the others. She was pretty and petite and had many 
admirers as she grew into womanhood. This period of her life, I witnessed 
with both agony and ecstasy, as my heart nearly broke whenever she cast 
off one of my favorites among her suitors, such as Dave Porter whose 
baritone voice singing impassioned love songs, and the musk cologne that 
made pa and the boys snorted in disgust, won me completely.

     I thought Fronia, as she was nick-named, was about as old as ma and 
I feared her even more, for she was intolerant of my tomboyish ways, my 
scuffed shoes, torn dresses and snagged stockings and my inability to 
stand still while she fitted my dresses on me. She threatened to let mine 
hang in bags - as they never seemed to fit as nicely as Julia's, I 
suspected it was Fronia's revenge.

     John Livingston and Barney Bryant were the other part of the 
sandwich between which poor little Fronia was pressed. Livey followed 
Fronia, he was quiet and placid in disposition, but like father, few 
people tried to push him around. He was probably the most talented one of 
the children; playing both banjo and harmonica. He had a dry humor that 
was entertaining and amusing. I never saw him greatly disturbed about 
anybody or anything, so he was a nice kind of brother to have.

     Barney, on the other hand, was impulsive, quick tempered, talkative 
and witty. He was very good natured except before breakfast when he was 
hungry, he would then fight a buzz-saw. If you understood this, you could 
get along with him very well. He was generous and self sacrificing but 
had the misfortune to be less strong than the other boys, having a 
bronchial condition - strange to say he was the most stable and 
dependable of them all. My first remembrance of Barney and Livey was of 
them wrapping themselves in white sheets and pretending to be ghosts, to 
frighten us girls; it was a frightful lot of fun!

     Susan Marinda, or Sudie as we called her, was the second daughter 
and occupied a position similar to Fronia's when she was a child being 
one wee girl among three brothers. I would think having a twin brother 
Matthew and then Willie and Redic old enough to be protective, with 
Fronia at the age to be attentive, she would not have quite the same 
difficulties that little Fronia had. The event of a baby sister when she 
was two years old no doubt, kept her from being too pampered which she 
probably would have been, for they say, she was a beautiful little thing. 
When she was a young lady her honey-colored hair hung below her knees, by 
bending back she could make it touch the floor. One summer, she went to 
Wilmington on an excursion, wearing her hair in a long braid down her 
back. People followed her asking if it was her own hair. A man approached 
Willie who was with her, and offered to put her in his show at a good 
salary - he was selling a famous brand of hair tonic, of course the offer 
was declined.

     Her twin brother Matthew was fatally burned when he was about two or 
three years of age. Ma had left him in the house with Fronia who was only 
nine or ten, to watch him and the other children while she went to the 
barn to milk the cow. Hearing the children screaming, she knew something 
was wrong and ran towards the house. Before she reached them, there was 
little Matthew, his clothing in flames running towards her. Fronia and 
the other children were following him trying to blow out the flames. As 
she passed the well, ma grabbed a bucket of water that happened to be 
sitting there and threw it on him putting out the fire. He had been 
burned critically and passed away a day or two later. This was, I believe 
the first death among the grand-children of both the immediate families 
and was taken very hard by all the family. Ma kept his little burnt 
clothing as long as she lived and many is the time I looked at them with 
a sad heart and tear-dimmed eyes. It has been said that Aunt Betsy 
dreamed she saw a house burning and knew some of the family was in it. 
Her dream depressed her so much, she hired a man to drive her over from 
Johnston County, a distance of ten miles and got there in time to help 
nurse little Matthew and comfort the others.

     Harriet (Hattie) whose arrival kept Sudie from being a pampered 
darling, came at rather an unfortunate time for mother as it kept her in 
bed when her father died with pneumonia. She could not go to his bed-side 
nor to his funeral. Her mother had died four months before of the same 
disease. Though she could not go to her father's bed, I would think the 
event of the new baby should have been instrumental in helping to divert 
her mind from her double loss. Hattie, like Barney, was jolly, witty and 
talkative, liked to be in the center of whatever was going on and usually 
managed to be. She had a real gift of story-telling that seemed wasted; 
she should have been an actress. We often laughed at her glorified 
versions of common-place happenings.

     At the Giles Place, life seemed to be one adventure after another. I 
think the most frightening one was the hurricane that blew the barn roof 
off. I still remember how the old house trembled and rocked on its 
foundations until even mother became worried and wrapped us and took us 
through the awful storm over the hill and told us to lie flat on the 
ground between the rows of corn. When the worst of the storm was over we 
went on to Mr. Hollowell's, whose house was larger and more substantially 
built. It was a terrible experience but as I look back on it, I think the 
excitement stole away most of the fear and I had an abiding faith in 
mother's ability to keep me safe from harm. I was shamelessly thrilled 
the next morning when we found the barn roof lying flat upon the ground, 
and knew we had an unusual play house.

     I've no doubt that Julia shared this exultation with me. We romped 
bare-foot over it for weeks, regardless of nails and splinters and I 
don't believe we so much as stumped a toe. Though I do faintly recall 
something about dirty and chapped feet.

     There is another unpleasant experience attached to this place, 
though it happened so quickly I cannot remember much about my feelings, 
unhappy or otherwise. A wagon loaded with cotton ran over me and 
miraculously didn't even hurt me, however it taught me never to climb on 
a wagon wheel when it was about to be in motion.

     Then there was the time I stepped on my pet chick while I was in the 
process of testing the relative power of a tantrum and killed the little 
thing; this nearly broke my heart but there was no great amount of 
sympathy wasted on me, repentant though I was. I hope this incident 
taught me not to throw any more tantrums. I cannot recall another one.

     Father's two brothers, Jethro and William Green, were Baptist 
preachers and sometimes held revival meetings in our neighborhood. We 
younger children were never taken to these revivals but we were sometimes 
entertained and greatly amused by brother Willie's skillful ability to 
imitate uncle Jethro, who it seems was strong on the "fire and brimstone" 
doctrine and a firm believer in "Hell and damnation". I am not casting 
any reflections on uncle Jethro's belief or his ability as a preacher 
because I never had the pleasure of hearing him. I did enjoy their visits 
when they were holding these revivals as they usually brought cousins 
David, Felix, and Sammy to lead the singing and they held their song 
practice at our house. In my childish judgement, they were magnificent. I 
learned later they were considered so by more experienced judges than me. 
Sometimes aunt Sally, Hettie and Nettle came with them. I remember them 
more for their pretty dresses than for anything they did.

     Aunt Catherine lived across the Neuse River from us and it was a 
pleasant occasion for everyone when she brought Louetta and Lillian over 
for a visit. They were Sudie's and Hattie's age but Julia and I enjoyed 
tagging along behind them admiring them and wishing we were big girls and 
could talk and do the things they did. When time came for them to go 
home, someone would row them across the river, which was closer than 
driving around by the bridge.

     Another frequent visitor in our home at the Giles Place was Fronia's 
friend, Matilda Worley, the little girl saw her parents murdered by old 
Noah Cherry, a Negro. She was a handsome and charming young lady at this 
time - the story of her bravery as a child made her very interesting to 
me. I have a paper Fronia gave me with the account of this tragic story, 
which I heard talked about when I was a child.

     It seems to me there was always a group of young people at our house 
on Sunday afternoons. Fronia and Redic were both popular with young 
people in that community and would often combine their groups to meet at 
different places for the afternoon, probably getting together at church 
and going on from there. The Providence Baptist Church was not far from 
us. I believe our family were members and regular attendants there.

     I loved the cherry tree that stood by the west fence overlooking the 
land that lay between our house and Mr. Hollowell's; it was a thing of 
beauty in the springtime when it was in bloom and made a real nice place 
to retire when you wished to be alone to quietly ponder on the great 
mysteries of life. By climbing on the fence you could reach and seat 
yourself on one of the higher limbs and from this point of observation, 
look into Mr. Hollowell's pasture and barn lot. From this secluded place 
one day, I was the horrified spectator at a tragic drama of bovine life. 
Mr. Hollowell's bull came across a dead calf and it seemed to be more 
than the poor thing could bear. He rolled his head on the ground, 
bellowing fearfully, digging the dirt up with his hooves and throwing it 
over his back. It was a dreadful sight and impressed me with the 
awfulness of death; even dumb beast felt it's mysterious power. The other 
cattle drew near and stood looking on either in solemn awe or placid 
indifference.

     Another memorable day at the Giles Place was a day Julius was born. 
I had become aware that mother was very sick and was growing steadily 
worse; father and others, perhaps the midwife or a neighbor, were in the 
room with the door closed. When ma's moans became screams, I was sure she 
was being tortured, perhaps even murdered. That father was involved was a 
thought too horrible to bear. With Julia to accompany me, I screamed at 
the full capacity of my lungs, both of us pounding on the door with both 
hands, finally we were gently removed from the scene, by whom I cannot 
recall.

     That is all I can remember about July the third, eighteen ninety, 
after that, there was a tiny baby brother in the house, who soon 
developed into a handsome little boy. Fronia who was a fine seamstress, 
took special pride in making him nice clothes, which I am sure mother 
appreciated. By this time sister Fronia was the chief dress-maker in the 
family. When Julius was three years old, we moved back to the land of our 
inheritance, the land mother received from her father's estate.

**********************

BACK TO THE OLD HOME PLACE

     A house having been built on mother's land, we were moving back 
again to Dudley. Strange as it may seem, I can remember nothing about 
leaving the Kornegay farm, nor the arrival at our new home but distinctly 
remember waking up the first morning and listening to the crowing of the 
old rooster and it seemed to me there was a different something to the 
sound that I had ever heard before, it was a part of the strange new life 
I was entering. It gave me the feeling that I was a lost spirit in 
Paradise. With the rising of the sun and after a hearty breakfast, I was 
back to normal and ready to start exploring the immediate surroundings. 
The Wilmington and Weldon R.R. ran within a mile and a half of our house, 
every evening a train called "The Shoe Fly" (I've no idea why it was 
called that or if it was a passenger or freight train) passed and it's 
whistle gave me the same weird thrill that the crowing of the rooster 
did, but that was quite natural, for there was a story which said, there 
was a young engineer killed in a wreck on this train, ever after the 
whistle said "Wil-lie Lee, Wil-lie Lee, O Willie, O Willie," and I could 
say I heard it.

     A narrow strip of pine woods hid the trains from view of the house; 
our farm or most of it, lay between the woods and the house, so it made a 
nice walk on a Sunday afternoon, to see the trains pass. This was looked 
forward to with eager anticipation, though I always had to hold onto 
someone, as I had the sensation of being drawn toward the train. I was 
actually afraid of being sucked under it, though I believe this is the 
first time I have confessed as much.

     What a wonderful sight that train was to me, though the smoke stack 
was almost as large as the engine. I suppose those trains gave me my 
first realization of a world beyond the boundaries of grand-father Potts' 
old plantation - peopled by my uncles, aunts, cousins and a few friends.

     I found our new home to be even more interesting than the "Giles 
Place" had been, probably because the house stood at the edge of a forest 
- every farm had its portion of wooded land, which was almost as 
essential as the farm land, as it furnished fuel for the "cook stove" and 
the fire places. We children thought it a lot of fun to build play houses 
on the green moss under the oak trees. Though it was some time before we 
would venture too far into the forest, it was a gay and happy place in 
the day time, when the birds were singing in the trees, and the 
butterflies flitting gaily everywhere, but at night it had many voices 
and mysterious sounds. As soon as it was dusk the crickets and frogs 
started up their chorus, with the whip-poor-will sometimes joining in 
with a lonesome call, then the bull bats came out in numbers flitting and 
swooping almost to the ground. Sometimes it seemed they were aiming 
straight at me, but would swerve quickly and up again they would go, the 
old Carolina moon smiling down benignly on the scene. The crunching acorn 
and hickory nuts by the hogs running loose in the woods sometimes took on 
such proportions in my imagination that I could almost believe wild 
ferocious beasts were devouring human bones in the darkness. But the 
worst time of all was when Julia and I had lingered a little too long at 
aunt Cynthia's playing with Talithia and Lora, and dusk found us hurrying 
down the "Avenue" toward home, we would sing to keep from hearing the 
snapping of twigs, the slithering rattling of the leaves, and a throaty 
sound of some feathered denizen (an inhabitant) of the wood.

     One evening we were playing in the edge of the woods only a few 
yards from our back yard, the moon was shinning brightly; suddenly a man 
came out of the woods and just stood there. I thought the figure looked 
familiar, but Sudie and Battle screamed and ran to the house, Julia, 
Julius and I following as fast we could, frightened near to death. I 
actually thought my heart would burst with pain. When we reached the 
house, Hattie and Sudie turned, laughing, they knew it was Willie. I was 
so pale mother was alarmed. A large family is a lot of fun, if you can 
take it, but you certainly have to learn the hard way.

     At the back of the house was a foot path leading to the "Avenue", a 
narrow road cut through the scrub-oak woods, by my father, as the old 
road had become so sandy it was almost impassable. The "Avenue" extended 
from the entrance to the grounds of grandfather Potts' old home, almost 
to aunt Cynthia's land, which lay a mile or two south of mother's, with 
uncle Newman's between. Uncle Newman Potts and uncle John Fields were 
always feuding, and finally each fenced his own land, which left a lane 
between the two farms, this became known as the "Devil Lane". If I ever 
heard what started the feud I have forgotten. I believe they buried the 
hatchet before uncle John sold his land and came to Utah, a few years 
after mother did.

     Looking north from our back porch we could see the "Potts" family 
burying ground, just across our garden lot. On bright moon light nights, 
the gleaming white stones seemed to sway ever so slightly like eerie 
ghosts, and if I was ever outside alone at night, I was careful not to 
look in that direction.

     Of course Livey and Barney found fresh stimulus for their devilry, 
in this close proximity to the resting place of their ancestors, and 
availed themselves of every opportunity to add more and better material 
to ghost stories and pranks. I suppose mother was helpless in preventing 
them from carrying on their playful operations. I still blame them for 
some morbid ideas and silly superstitions I secretly harbored for more 
years than I like to recall. I was a grown woman before I overcame my 
fear of going into a dark room. I imagine Julia felt the same way, for 
some of my worse moments came from having to go to bed with her, because 
she was afraid to go to bed alone. Years later, she had chronic 
appendicitis. As it got worse, she had nightmares and imagined she saw 
apparitions in white, floating around the room, sometimes stopping to give 
her a friendly smile. Any protection she had from me was purely 
imaginary, I made sure I was under the covers and out of sight, and no 
one will ever know how near I came to suffocating. I call this the acme 
of refined cruelty to a child. I earned a medal of honor suffering in 
silence. I recall once when I was in bed with my head under the covers, 
or so I thought - a wisp of hair was hanging out, and when I felt 
something pull it, I came out of hiding with a scream that woke the whole 
house. When the lamp was lit, my little pet kitten was found purring 
softly and blinking in surprise.

     We had not lived in our new home but a few months when, one day with 
no preliminaries, we were taken to grandma Jones' to spend the day, that 
is the first I recall visiting at the home of grandpa Jones, which was 
within a few miles of where we lived. I cannot remember what was said 
before we left home, but on the way I whispered to Julia and told her I 
thought there would be a new baby at our house when we returned. She 
looked at me in wide eyed wonder. I was somewhat precocious of a few non-
essentials, she listened to my deductions in silence. Mother had been in 
very poor health lately, and disposed to discuss her condition only with 
Fronia, and that rather furtively. Besides, one day I had noticed little 
belly bands like aunt Cynthia put on her babies, and three cornered 
cloths hanging on the clothes line.

     During the day aunt Martha, who was a spinster, threw out a few 
hints which confirmed my suspicions, so, none of us were surprised when 
father came to take us and announced the arrival of a new baby brother. 
We could hardly wait to get started. Aunt Martha said they captured the 
baby running around in the woods, we asked her how he could be running 
around, for tiny babies could not walk; with only a slight hesitation she 
came forth with the astounding disclosure that babies are always lambed 
during the capture. We accepted her story in silence, scorning to reply 
to such a silly fabrication, though we knew little about the birds and 
the bees, we recognized a fairy story when we heard one, and hers was 
fantastically ridiculous.

     Little Jesse was the joy of our lives, he was a beautiful dimpled 
darling and his adoring family thought he was exceptionally bright. 
Julius was now a handsome boy of three, a little too near my own age to 
be fully appreciated, the older members of the family saw that he was 
given the necessary attention.

     I believe little Jesse was really advanced for his age, he could 
walk when Julia and I had started school. After school was out, when we 
came in sight of the house, we would have a foot race to see who could 
get to him first. He enjoyed the game and ran to meet us crowing with 
delight. This always made it more fun for the victor.

     I shall never forget my first day at school. I trudged behind Sudie 
and Hattie, Julia at my side, towards the old Casey school house where a 
new world was awaiting me. Drawing nearer and nearer with every step I 
took, and with my heart growing fainter and fainter as I came closer to 
the school house, I was thankful that my sisters Sudie and Hattie were 
experienced and unafraid. I feel sorry for little girls who never have 
had older sisters, as I have always had older sisters to lead the way.

     I hardly know what I expected, but realized it was a very important 
step and meant to prepare us for any eventuality. I had learned my reader 
backward, forwards - all but upside down and sideways. I learned to count 
to a hundred the same way but I was still doubtful about my ability to 
comply with all the requirements. Needless to say, I was surprised that I 
survived the first day without any unpleasant incidents. My fears were 
groundless, for I soon learned I need have no fear of not being able to 
cope with whatever difficulties the first grade primer might hold.

     Miss Minnie Raiford was my first teacher. It was not long before I 
took my place at the head of the class, a position I never found 
difficult to maintain; especially in the spelling class, where I modestly 
confess, I was a whiz. When one missed a word the next student in line, 
if he spelled the word correctly, would step up ahead of the one that 
missed. When one reached the head of the line, he stayed there until he 
missed a word and then he went back to the end of the line. I must have 
missed a few words, as I seemed to have to step up along with the others. 
I tried loyally to keep Julia with me when we happened to be standing 
near each other, we slyly tried to prompt one another by whispering under 
our breath, behind the hand; this was usually ignored - I cannot believe 
it went unnoticed. However, twins were sort of privileged beings, and 
granted favors not enjoyed by those of lesser distinction. I must say, I 
was not aware of this until much later.

     There was a day when being a twin got me no favors; my teacher Miss 
Ida Moore was standing at the blackboard with her back to the class, when 
a general buzz of whispering broke out in the room, she turned demanding 
to know who was whispering - mine was the only guilty looking face in the 
room. She looked at me reprovingly and asked me if I had been whispering. 
I had to confess that I had been. Much to my humiliation and indignation, 
I was told to stand in the corner, however, she soon relented and told me 
to take my seat.

     That was the only time I ever knew Miss Moore to be unfair to 
anyone, for I could not understand how she could think it possible for 
one shy little girl to make such a noise of turning, shuffling and 
buzzing as went on behind her back that day. Perhaps, she did realize it 
after her hasty action, but could not admit her error without some loss 
to her dignity as a teacher.

     Another day we had a visitor at school. This lady was a student of 
phrenology, I suppose Miss Moore thought it would be interesting to see 
her demonstrate her knowledge, and naturally the heads of twins would 
make a study in comparison. I have forgotten whether she felt the heads 
of any of the students besides Julia's and mine, or what she said about 
Julia's head; but when she was through feeling around the surface of my 
cranium, she announced that I had a big bump of self esteem. Miss Moore 
quickly came to my defense, as if she thought it was bad. She told the 
lady I was one of her most modest and unselfish pupils, and acted as if 
she thought the lady must have made a mistake. However that may be, I 
still have that bump on my head, and if it is self-esteem, I am only 
sorry that it did not give me the self-confidence to overcome my 
inferiority complex, instead of forever lurking behind a foolish facade 
of extreme modesty.

     It seemed our little brother Jesse was not destined to be with us 
long, for when he was about three years of age, it was discovered that 
something was wrong with his eye. The pupil had become dilated and began 
to change color, finally resembling an opal. He was taken to a 
specialist, who diagnosed it as a glioma, and told us his eye would 
have to be removed as quickly as possible before it reached the brain. My 
mother took him to Goldsboro, where Dr. Hyatt of Raleigh performed the 
operation. They stayed at aunt Lizzie Starling's, and remained there for 
a week or two so that he could be under the observation of the doctor. 
Great was the rejoicing in our home the day they returned.

     We had hardly became used to seeing our baby brother with only one 
eye, when complications set in and he had to be taken back to the doctor. 
Though his condition was discretely kept from us children, we sensed the 
anxiety of the older members of the family, and waited anxiously for 
their return from town. We were told before-hand our little brother could 
live only a short time, and that we were to act natural and happy when we 
saw him. I imagine this was probably to keep mother from breaking under 
her grief. We did not need to be told to act happy for we were really 
overjoyed to see him. Little Jesse was just as happy, he looked so well, 
we could hardly believe he would soon be taken from us. He had spent 
three happy years with us.

     In a few weeks he had become a very sick baby; his suffering was 
terrible at the last. It was heart-breaking for those who had to witness 
it. Before he died, he called each of the family to his bed separately, 
between paroxysms of pain and kissed each of us, not missing anyone or 
asking for anybody twice. After that, he went into a coma and didn't know 
anyone. I have never forgotten how his little dimpled hands looked folded 
on his breast, as he lay in death. I stole away myself and prayed to God 
to restore him to life. When my prayer was not answered, I realized I had 
asked the impossible of God. My grief was deep, and I missed him for a 
long time, but in time he was just a precious memory.

     I haven't said much about Julius up to this point, naturally with 
the advent of baby Jesse, he had to take second place, but I cannot 
remember him seeming very disgruntled over this. I suppose they probably 
had a lot of fun together when the rest of us were at school, in the 
cotton field or at our play house, for we would not tolerate any 
masculine intrusion on the sacred reserve of our play houses; except on 
occasions when there was something we wanted in exchange for such a 
privilege of some secret we wished to worm out of the said intruder.

     Julius liked playing in the fields where the men were at work, or 
following Newman and David Potts, when they were supposed to be working 
in their fields which adjoined our land. Then, there were times he was 
Fronia' escort when she went to Dudley to get the mail, or he was until 
Julia and I were old enough to take over this rather enjoyable chore. 
Sometimes we would meet strange Negroes on the road, and if they happened 
to be black we were a little frightened - remembering the story of old 
Noah Cherry. But they invariably gave a broad smile and a "howdy", they 
sometimes stopped and asked us if we were Mr. Mathew Jones' daughters, 
saying they thought we must be because we favored him. Sometimes we would 
meet a strange cow, and we were always greatly relieved when we had 
safely passed the poor harmless animal. If ever a yearling or sizeable 
male animal came along, we gave them a wide berth. At the time, livestock 
was allowed to graze in the woods.

     No doubt, Julius would have liked to go along with us, but I cannot 
recall that he ever did. My dearest memories of him about this time, is 
the trouble mother had making him go to school. sometimes, he would 
disappear from school, and then join us somewhere on our way home from 
school. He had a habit of running away from home whenever a whipping was 
in the offing. One day, there was quite an exciting time when he ran away 
and hid in the woods, when it was nearly sunset, mother began to worry 
for fear he would not be able to find his way home. Barney, flanked by us 
girls, began to beat the brush for our little brother. We knew he had his 
dog "Bull" with him and Barney called the dog every now and then, after a 
while we heard the dog barking and followed the sound until we came to 
the hiding place of his desperate little master. If I remember correctly, 
Julius got a sound whipping, even though we were all happy to find him; 
and perhaps a little was added just to pay for the bad time he had given 
everyone.

     Mother was always as good as her word, when she promised one a 
whipping, she never forgot to give it to him; so, when I had a whipping 
coming, I preferred to get the inevitable over as soon as possible. In 
those days parents believed if you spared the rod, you spoiled the child, 
and I can testify that mother had the courage of her convictions. I 
thought at the time that she could have been less severe about some 
unimportant offenses, such as forgetting what she told me to do, or not 
to do.

     However, I remember one whipping she gave me that I thought was 
undeserved, and I am inclined to think so still, because it was given 
when a good talking to would have been much more effective, besides it 
was given in anger; Julia and I got into a fight, I've forgotten what it 
was about, or who started it, but I scratched her. I had discovered 
something about her that no one else knew she was stronger than me and to 
keep her from getting me down and beating me up, with my last ounce of 
strength, I would scratch, pinch or kick her, which never failed to stop 
her short and she'd start crying. I cannot recall being asked for an 
explanation, just "did you do it?". I never lied to escape my punishment, 
I sensed that self-preservation was law of nature, and regretted that 
this did not apply to me.

     Well, that day mother thought I should apologize to Julia, and say 
that I was sorry. When I refused, she said if I didn't, she would have to 
whip me. I still refused, I knew why I did it, and felt justified. I had 
been taught that it was a sin to tell a lie. She got a fair sized switch 
from a tree, and called me to her. I stood before her with every nerve 
tensed, I did not flinch when he applied the switch, after two of three 
applications, she asked me again if I was sorry. I was more defiant and 
less sorry than ever and shook my head. Mother was really angry by this 
time, and just about wore the whip out on me, but not a sound came from 
my lips or a tear to my eyes. I didn't even flinch. It was more than she 
could bear, she threw the whip, or switch down and covered her face with 
her hands and wept. Without glancing right or left she walked from the 
room, with a face as stolid as that of a little red Indian. I am sure no 
one caught me crying though I was very sorry I had made mother cry.

     I believe my dear mother always tried to be fair to all of her 
children, and did very well considering the number she had and the 
difference in their dispositions and temperaments, and the fact that most 
of them were endowed with a generous share of hot Irish in their blood.

     In 1898, there was some excitement in the family, when it became 
known that Newman Jones, the only child of uncle Ben and aunt Mary, had 
enlisted in the Army, to fight in the Spanish American War. He was just 
twenty one, but they tried to get him released because they needed him at 
home to help them run the farm. They were unsuccessful in their efforts, 
however, and he was sent to Jacksonville, Florida for his training.

     He was double cousin, as uncle Ben was father's brother, and aunt 
Mary, mother's sister. He visited in our home frequently, he was almost 
like a brother, so we felt bad to see him go to war. There were some in 
the family who thought the experience might be good for him, as it was 
about the first time in his young life that he had taken the initiative 
in doing anything on his own.

     I imagine sister Fronia was a great help and comfort to both aunt 
Mary and uncle Ben; she stayed with them at this time, more than she did 
at home. I can understand now why she was their favorite. The same might 
be said of Livey.

     "Newey", as we all called him, had been gone only a few weeks, or 
months, when word was received, saying that he was ill with yellow fever. 
This news was quickly followed by the message conveying the sad news of 
his death.

     I shall never forget the day his body arrived. We lived, as I have 
said, within a few hundred yards of the Potts' burying ground, so the 
family had gathered at our house to wait for the arrival of the funeral 
cortege. When it arrived, it was accompanied by two soldiers in uniform, 
who stood guard over the flag draped casket; this proved to be fortunate, 
for there were one or two in the family who thought the casket should be 
opened, as aunt Mary, in her deep grief, had expressed her desire to see 
her boy. When it looked like the Army would lose the battle, and was 
ready to give in to the request, the soldiers told the women and children 
to leave the cemetery so that they would not be exposed to the dreaded 
plague yellow fever. This seemed to be more effective than the orders not 
to open the casket had been, so it was not opened. Newman Potts Jones was 
laid to rest to become a family hero of the Spanish American War.

     The government checks for the next three and a half decades were but 
a small compensation for the love of a son, and his strong arm to lean 
upon in their last days.

     They thought brother Livey and Newey looked so much alike that they 
told Livey, if he would live with them, they would leave everything they 
owned to him, at their death. He worked for them for a year or two, but 
did not agree to live with them for the rest of his life. This was 
another disappointment to them but again, Fronia was their main comfort. 
However, they were frequent visitors at our home and were always received 
with open arms and hearts by all the family.

     The next thing of importance to happen in the family was the 
marriage of brother Redic, to a distant cousin, Frances Lewis. This event 
took place on January 20, 1898, at candlelight ceremonies, in the home of 
her father, Major Lewis. We were very proud of our new sister-in-law. She 
was nice and kind to us children. Redic rented a farm from Uncle William 
Potts, where they began housekeeping.

     Uncle William raised strawberries on his farm for the market. Every 
spring Sudie, Hattie, Julia and I would stay at Redic's and pick 
strawberries for uncle William. I will never forget the spring when a 
terrible hail storm destroyed the strawberry crop and cut short our 
visit. It was the worst hail storm I can remember. As I recall, that was 
the last time we went there to pick strawberries.

     The following year, we left our beloved North Carolina and moved out 
"West" to Salt Lake City, Utah.

     On a sweltering day in the summer of 1899, the family of Mathew 
Jones had just finished their mid-day meal, and those who were in the 
habit of taking an after-dinner nap were about to retire to their 
pallets, or pillows on the floor, when two men in long black prince 
albert coats were seen approaching the house, along the path leading from 
the "Avenue". As I have explained before, this was a long narrow road 
running straight through the scrub oak woods which bordered the eastern 
edge of mother's farm.

     We watched the two men approach, with varying degrees of surprise 
and curiosity, as it was seldom strangers passed that way on foot. The 
men introduced themselves as Elders H. O. Hurst and George Cook, 
missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This 
information did not mean too much to us at the time, but when they said 
they were traveling without purse, and were several miles from the homes 
of friends and would appreciate the privilege of stopping a while to rest 
and partake of some refreshments, mother understood instantly. She 
invited them in and set the left-overs from dinner before them, which if 
I remember correctly, was more than ample - our dinner usually consisted 
of collards, cooked with ham or pork side, new potatoes, okra, tomatoes 
and cucumbers in vinegar, pone bread, and if we were lucky, huckleberry 
or apple dumplings.

     While they ate, the missionaries explained briefly some of the first 
principles of the Gospel, as taught by the "Mormons", as they were 
called. After listening until the conversation became boring or perhaps 
over our heads, Julia and I retired to our play house in the barn loft. 
This was where we usually spent our time following diner as it was cool 
there; but mostly to escape the monotonous task of fanning the flies off 
mother while she took her afterdinner siesta.

     When we returned to the house, the "Mormon" Elders - I'm afraid my 
modern and ancient history was somewhat confused, had gone; after 
obtaining permission to return a week later when all the family would be 
home. Mother had promised to invite her relatives and friends to this 
meeting. Some instinct told me this invitation would not be very 
graciously received, and my intuition proved true. I don't know how many 
mother invited, but few availed themselves of the opportunity of hearing 
the peculiar doctrine of Mormonism, explained. This seemed rather 
strange, for attending "Revival" meetings, where someone always fell into 
a trance and was saved, was almost as exciting as going to a circus, and 
not to be missed.

     It seems there was a certain man, who had to be saved every year, 
and he got quite a reputation as an eloquent performer on the "saw dust 
ring" and he earned it. As I recall it, he would cross over that river 
Jordan and return before he came out of his trance. To my disappointment, 
I had to get this second hand.

     Well, these people wanted nothing to do with Mormons, and those who 
would not come to the meeting at our house, later came to warn us against 
the wicked designs of the Elders of that church. They meant well, and we 
were sorry to disappoint some of them; I remember how sad I felt the day 
uncle William Green Jones came to have a talk with mother and Fronia 
after they had decided to join the "Mormon Church". Uncle William Green 
was father's brother, and a Baptist minister and, for some reason, we had 
a special admiration for him. He was more gentle of nature and kind in 
his condemnation of sinners than his brother Jethro, whose fiery sermon 
Willie liked to imitate.

     In spite of warnings of friends and the prejudice of the other 
churches, all the family were impressed with the beauty and logic of this 
new religion, and it's close conformity to the teaching of Christ. The 
more they heard, the more sure they were that they had found the right 
church at last.

     We became aware of the difference between the beliefs of the Church 
of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and the other churches, the 
greatest of which was latter day revelation. As the Savior said there 
should be Prophets, Seers, and Twelve Apostles at the head of His church, 
we could not see why a church claiming all of these should be reviled and 
persecuted. So that we might worship God according to the dictates of our 
own conscience and with dignity, mother decided to sell her farm and go 
to Salt Lake City, Utah, or "Zion", as it was called, where a Temple of 
the Lord was built for the Saints to worship, and perform the ordinances 
required of them.

     I am not certain how many other factors influenced her decision, but 
she sold her land and prepared to leave the land of her birth, her 
kindred and friends.

     Fronia wanted to go ahead of the family and being the most bold and 
fearless and a born leader, it was decided that she should go and make 
preparation for the rest of us. In the late summer of 1900, she left for 
Utah.

     I watched these proceedings with mixed feeling, being probably, the 
most sentimental of the family, with a deep love for my home and native 
land burning inside of me. Poetically speaking, "I wandered lonely as a 
cloud", not even sharing all my secret sorrow with Julia. I wanted to be 
alone when I bid good-bye to the crooked old tree, whose friendly limbs 
had held me when I needed to escape the cruel realities of an un-friendly 
world; when I looked the last time on the sun sinking in a ball of glory 
behind the piney woods, the beauty of which I never expected to see 
again. I did not know then of the gorgeous splendor of the western 
sunsets but that is life. I didn't want to ever forget any of the 
inanimate objects of my childish affection, and tried to impress them all 
on my mind, so nothing could erase their memory, and I very nearly did. I 
can still see the patch of wire-grass which Julia and I turned into a 
beauty salon; something that we had never heard of. Each of us had 
bunches of grass so well trained that we could do it up into the 
semblance of a very pretty hair-do. Some were even recognizable as 
belonging to certain people we knew.

     I have no doubt that the rest of the family felt very much as I did 
about leaving the old home and, like myself, tried to hide their 
sentiments behind a whistle or song. I can only imagine how it must have 
hurt mother to leave her childhood home and her beloved brothers and 
sisters.

     Uncle Ben and aunt Mary Jones, who had left wayne County several 
years before, sold their home in Greene County, and moved back. They 
bought a farm within a few miles of us (bless them), knowing they were 
very near and dear to us, they thought they could influence the family 
and prevent us from going to Utah. Even they could not sway mother or any 
of the family from following the course they believed to be right. Did 
not Christ say we must give up father, mother, brothers and sisters, even 
our children, if need be, for His name's sake.

     Our house became a meeting place for the Elders and Saints, in that 
part of Wayne County. After the family were baptised, sacrament meetings 
and sunday school were held there. Uncle John Fields and his family were 
the only relatives who attended the meetings, occasionally our cousin 
Jasper Potts attended. One Elder told us of an amusing encounter with 
Jasper's mother, aunt Mary Potts. He asked her if he might leave her some 
of his tracts, and she replied that - "he certainly could, but with his 
heels toward the house." That was typical of her native humor.

     Poor aunt Mary, her grandson William Percise, joined the Church of 
Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, a few years ago. He is the first close 
relative in the family that I know of who has joined since we left there 
in 1901. We were delighted in the summer of 1959, to receive a letter 
from him saying he and his family were coming out west to go through the 
Temple. Since then, other relatives and friends have received the church.

     At the time we left North Carolina in 1901, meetings were held in 
any old building that could be secured for the occasion; sometimes it 
would be an old unoccupied school house, or an abandoned church. Now in 
the city of Goldsboro, a beautiful Church has been erected at a cost of 
$318,000. As you drive along the highways of the state, beautiful chapels 
are seen everywhere. Oh yes, great changes have taken place in old Dixie, 
as in the rest of the world. It 16 true, the more learning and wisdom one 
acquires, the less prejudice he has towards other's beliefs and 
convictions.

     As I have mentioned before, sister Fronia had gone ahead of the rest 
of the family. She had borrowed money to pay her way to Utah, and now she 
was working in a tailor's shop, at what we then thought was an attractive 
salary. Her letters telling of her new home and friends and experiences 
were so interesting that they did a great deal to make our departure from 
our dear old home less sor8rowful. We naturally looked forward to our 
trip west, and the new home we were going to. It was with great sorrow 
that we bid good-bye to our father and brother Redic, who could not then 
give up their ties to their homeland. It was also hard to leave our 
little dog Bull, whom we loved like a member of the family; Julius 
claimed him as such. One day Julius dressed himself in clothes which 
dragged and bagged to the ground, and with a hat so large that it almost 
hid his face, emerged from the house; he was such a funny looking figure, 
his little dog didn't recognize him, and started barking at him fiercely. 
Julius had to then make himself known. He said "Bull, you ought to be 
ashamed, barking at your own brother". We used to tease him about his 
brother; it became a family joke. You can imagine the sad parting that 
last day when little Bull tried to follow us and had to be sent back.

     There was another sad parting that day. Sudie's boyfriend drove her 
to the train, and on the way, tried to persuade her to elope with him. 
She may have been tempted, but being a quiet home girl, she could not 
bear to let her family leave without her.

     Utah seemed so far away, and she was such a conscientious person 
that she would not upset any plans at that late hour. She met and married 
a nice young man about a year after we arrived in Utah. It was love at 
first sight for both of them and they had a happy married life.

     We heard that the young man she left behind married a distant 
relative of ours, and had a very happy marriage. Who can deny the old 
adage "all is well that ends well"?

     It is said that our departure from North Carolina was the object of 
a lot of attention, and some adverse comments, when after we'd left, The 
Goldsboro news papers came out with the sensational story that a train 
load of the fairest daughters of old North Carolina had left Goldsboro 
bound for Utah, accompanied by a half dozen Morman Elders.

     Mother, her four daughters, four sons and Luther Coats, mother's 
convert, must have made quite an impression on the ticket agent.

     The trip to Utah was almost indescribable. We younger children had 
never been on a train before, and to me it was almost too thrilling; 
every time it rounded a curve, it seemed to me it nearly left the track. 
I clung to the arms of my seat to keep from being flung in the isle. The 
creaking of the cars was frightening. After the first day or two, I began 
to enjoy the scenery more. I still remember how I admired the hills and 
cliffs of Tennessee, and the green fields of Kentucky, with the white 
houses in the distance and the white fences everywhere.

     In Corinth, Mississippi, where we had to change trains, we stopped 
several hours. Hattie met a young man in uniform who was so impressed by 
her that he later went to Utah, and they corresponded for a while. He 
even proposed to her. 'Twas my task to compose the letter of refusal to 
his offer of marriage. It seems I could always tell others what to say, 
though I was always speechless when I had to speak for myself.

     As the train took us farther and farther west, we began to watch for 
the mountains and the first snow capped mountain we saw were a wonderful 
sight for all of us. When we got into Wyoming, miners began to get on the 
train with their heavy coats and telescopes and suit cases. The women 
wore the first fur-trimmed coats I had ever seen. Finally, we were in 
Utah and our feelings were such that it was easy for us to imagine how 
Brigham Young felt when he said the famous words, "This is the Place"

     We arrived in Salt Lake City, after our long and extremely tiresome 
journey, on a cold slushy day in March 1901. I will confess, I was 
slightly disappointed as it was such a grimy looking place, not at all 
like my imaginative conception of a beautiful "Zion". However, seeing the 
spires of the Temple in the distance, towering against the majestic snow-
capped mountains, gave me hope there was a more attractive part of the 
city than that surrounding the Oregon Short Line Railroad Depot. In my 
eagerness to reach our new home, I soon forgot my apprehension and 
entered whole heartedly into a new and different way of life.

     Fronia had been out west six months before us and had rented and 
furnished a house and was awaiting our arrival. It was with much 
curiosity and great anticipation, that we entered the little gray house 
of West Third South; to me it was something pretty wonderful. Imagine new 
furniture in every room! This was just one of the many new things that 
were beginning to enter my life.

     The first evening in our new home, we were given a kind of house-
warming as a welcome to Salt Lake City. It was a surprise party, by a few 
of the friends Fronia had made in her new surroundings. Among them were 
the Ashton girls, whose mother was from North Carolina. While I was 
enjoying the evening and appreciative of the gesture of friendship, f 
became aware of the difference in our manner of speaking. I was charmed 
by their quick fluent flow of speech and wondered if I would ever be able 
to drop my southern drawl and accent to speak as they did. This became my 
aim - but I never attained my goal. After fifty years, people ask me 
where I'm from.

     We soon learned that our dialect and accent had nothing to do with 
making friends. Our small, over-crowded house soon became the meeting 
place of old and new friends. Some of our friends from North Carolina had 
preceded us to Utah, and others soon followed. With the returning 
missionaries stopping in to see how the Jones' family was making it in 
Zion, as they reported to the church headquarters, it is no wonder some 
of the neighbors, who didn't know this, began to speculate about the 
coming and going of 60 many people to the little house across the street.

     About two or three weeks after our arrival, we all broke out with 
the measles. A nurse had to be engaged, as the whole family was in bed, 
and as I remember, we were very sick too. I am sure I was not as ill as 
the rest of the family, for I lay and listened to the others moaning and 
groaning and wished they wouldn't make such a to-do about it. This was 
another new experience for me, as it was the first time I had ever had a 
contagious disease, or a disease of any kind. It was the first time I had 
seen a house quarantined, so the yellow flag tacked on the front of the 
house spelled more than measles to me.

     I was so thrilled and happy in my strange new environment that I 
never once wished for any cotton to hoe, or tobacco beds to weed. I 
simply luxuriated in idleness. That first summer I ran wild and free 
enjoying the things I had never seen before - the street sprinkler being 
but one of them; with the other girls as old as we were, Julia and myself 
ran barefoot behind it, having the time of our lives, and unashamed. What 
would fourteen year old girls of today think of such childish conduct! 
Today, girls of that age think they are quite adult. f suppose having 
older sisters who were adept at keeping younger ones in their place, made 
me rather slower in daring to assert my rights to the privileges so 
sacred to the budding adolescence.

     I will confess I was in no hurry to give up the freedom and fun I 
was enjoying as a care-free tom-boy, and being somewhat small and young 
looking for my age, I could get away with it, though there were times 
when I was quite annoyed when I was referred to as "your little sister" 
by friends of my brothers and sisters. This had not bothered me when we 
were in the South, where most of the boys in school were relatives, or 
acquaintances of such long standing that they had no romantic interest 
for me.

     Now, young men in our neighborhood began casting exploring eyes in 
the direction of our house. As they passed and repassed, they were 
probably aware that four damsels lurked behind the lace curtains at the 
windows. I imagine Suddie and Hattie were the chief attractions, being at 
the approved ages of seventeen and nineteen.

     Julia and I were beginning to come into our own, as we too enjoyed 
being noticed by the opposite sex. Joe, who lived a few houses down the 
street, already had his eyes on Julia, and Andy, from around the corner, 
though too bashful to look at me when he passed, was dropping apples over 
the fence for me. I, though too bashful to let him know I was picking 
them up, ate them with far more enjoyment than I would have enjoyed his 
company, I am sure.

     Speaking of apples, reminds me of an amusing incident with the girl 
next door. At that time, there were many old orchards in our part of the 
city, the fruit going to waste, so of course, everybody helped 
themselves. This day a friend, Mary Rose, and I decided to go to a 
certain old orchard and partake of the fruit thereof; we took a flour 
sack (I've often wondered why we didn't take two), anyway, when it was 
full I started to lift it. Mary put her hand out and said, "let me pack 
it," I stared at her a second and then said, "I'11 tote it", then the 
humor of the situation struck us and we sat down and had a good laugh. We 
then took turns carrying the apples home, where they were divided between 
us.

     It was about this time that I turned down my first date. The boy 
across the back fence sent his sister over to ask me if I would go to a 
show with him. I wanted to go to the show, but I had never been to one, 
nor on a date with a boy, so not knowing what would be required of me, I 
was too timid to take the venture. I sent word back that I didn't want to 
go.

     In September of 1901, Julia, Julius and I, started to school at the 
Franklin, one of the first schools built in our section of the city. I 
felt just about as frightened and curious as I had been the day I 
followed Sudie and Hattie to the old Casey school, long ago. I soon found 
that it was much the same as in North Carolina, and I soon felt that 
everything was going my way. Then out of clear skies came calamity. I 
came down with typhoid fever; as I had never had a real sick day in my 
life and having nothing to judge by, I didn't know whether I was ill or 
just too tired to live. I decided not to say anything about it, so I just 
drooped around the house and sat by the stove with my head in my hands, 
wishing everybody would quit asking me what was the matter. I just didn't 
have the energy to open my mouth. I had no idea of the terrible fear 
which was beginning to take root in my mother's mind.

     At night, I would have nightmares and go to mother's bed and crawl 
in by her side, and tell her that I was afraid to be alone. One day I was 
trying to stay up, but had reached the limit of my strength, everything 
turned black before my eyes. It was then that I was put to bed and it was 
the last thing I knew for two or three weeks. Luck was with me, a friend 
of the family, who was a maid at Doctor Mayo's, the county physician, 
said she would send the Dr. down to see me and as soon as she reached 
home, which she did. He pronounced my ailment typhoid fever, in an 
advanced stage. They told me after I was well, that when they put me to 
bed, I told mother not to worry, just call in the Elders and I would not 
die. This gave her hope when I was at my worst, and little hope was held 
for my recovery.

     I faintly remember being put in a bed that was swinging and swaying 
not unpleasantly (I always enjoyed swinging). As things turned out, it 
was fortunate that there was an Elder, Henry Sullivan boarding with us, 
and Andrew Godwin who also held the Priesthood, and could assist in 
administering to the sick, for every night about mid-night my fever would 
rise, and I would rave in delirium - the doctor had warned mother that I 
would have to be kept very quiet, or the consequences might be fatal. So, 
when I would start to rave, someone would go for the Elders, and I 
invariably fell asleep under their hands. Dear old Bishop Ek, formed the 
habit of stopping every morning and evening, on his way to and from his 
work, to pray for me, I became famous as "the little girl of great 
faith". So that I might have kept that title, but I do give thanks and 
credit to my heavenly Father that I was allowed to live, and though I 
have not lived up to my own ideals as well as I could have done, and have 
fallen short of my goal - I have never lost my faith.

     I didn't go back to school that year, it was after Christmas before 
I was strong enough, and by that time my hair was falling out like 
feathers from a scalded chicken, and I looked like a little plucked 
skeleton for a long time. Mother hadn't the heart to force me, and 
yielded to my plea to be allowed to stay home.

     The next spring we, moved to Sugar House, which is a suburb of Salt 
Lake City. At one time there had been a sugar mill built there by Brigham 
Young, and that is how it came to be called Sugar House. It was much 
nicer than the "west side" where the railroad shops and freight trains 
kept everything dingy from smoke.

     After that, living in sugar House was like being back in the 
country. Late that summer me and Julius came down with diptheria, we were 
quarantined, only mother and Hattie stayed home to nurse us. I remember 
how Julius carried on, every time he got an anti-toxin shot. I learned to 
take this without flinching, not because I didn't want to scream, but 
because I simply couldn't let Doctor stewart see me acting like a 
frightened baby, doctors were new and awesome in my life, I could hardly 
feel pain in their presence, I never could tell them where my misery was 
when they asked where I hurt.

     Julius and I were among the first to be given anti-toxin, which took 
much of the fear out of diptheria. We had not fully recovered when school 
started, and much to my chagrin, had to miss the first month. After being 
out so long with typhoid, I was really worried. But after looking over 
the books Julia brought home, and doing some of the lessons with her, I 
decided I would have no trouble keeping up with her. Skipping a grade, I 
went with her into the sixth grade. Miss Fannie Alien was our teacher, 
she was followed by Miss Della Pendleton, and Mr. James E. Moss. Julia 
had made friends and sort of paved the way for her shy-crop haired twin 
sister. There was one boy Julia especially singled out as her favorite. I 
am sure she never expected to have any competition from me, but he must 
have thought I looked boyish and funny, and took an instant liking for 
me, and started passing notes to me to participate in the fun. The thing 
that made more fun, I think, was that Julia got so angry at me, no one 
knows how close I came to getting banged over the head with a book. That 
boy, who was a future attorney of some prominence, was my escort to the 
school parties for a while.

     Another day I wrote a note in which I made a slithering remark about 
a certain boy in the room, the note was to a girl, but one of those fun 
loving boys got it and pretended they were going to the boy, I had 
nothing against the boy, and knew I should not have said what I did. I 
was so desperate to get the note back I was causing quite a commotion, 
the more desperate I became, the more fun it was for those boys. Finally 
I jumped up and went after it. Miss Allen, who was a hot-headed teacher 
who took no fooling, laughed and made them give it back to me, saying 
"next time be careful what you write".

     Aside from the school-day romances with boys who were hardly old 
enough to be taken seriously, I had not had much experience with the 
opposite sex. I was shy and bashful and avoided the ones I really liked 
most, and being so young looking for my age, I am sure they never 
suspected the romantic ideas I was harboring.

     My first date with an adult young man came about by accident. Julia 
had made a date with Bill Martin, a nice, handsome young man, but in the 
mean time had went to spend the summer with sister Fronia in Idaho. There 
were few telephones in those days, so I had to break the bad news to him 
when he arrived. As he drove up in a shinning rubber-tired buggy, drawn 
by an equally shinning horse, I greeted him at the door and apologized 
for her. He asked me if I would go in her stead. I was afraid he was 
asking me just to be polite, and hoping I would refuse. I hesitated, 
making some lame excuse. He insisted that I go, saying he had rented the 
shinning outfit for a few hours, and wanted to use it, and would be happy 
if I would go with him, so I did and enjoyed the summer evening very 
much. I was surprised when he asked for another date, and another. We 
went steady for sometime, probably a year. While I liked him well enough, 
we were both rather bashful. The only thing he could talk about with 
fluency was perpetual motion, which he was trying to invent, and he 
talked about it perpetually. This became boring but when he talked I 
didn't have to - I was always a good listener. I don't know how long this 
would have gone on, or where it might have ended, if fate in the person 
of Hattie and her friend Elsie hadn't intervened.

     Elsie's pet sport was collecting the scalps of any young man she 
could get her hands on; to hear her tell it she had collected quite a 
few. When Hattie had a friend she was terribly loyal, and I mean 
terribly. The whole family heaved a sigh of relief when her friendships 
had leveled to normal.

     These two started making a big fuss over Bill, pretending they were 
falling in love with him. This seemed to worry the poor fellow. I became 
so disgusted with him for taking them seriously and not being able to see 
that they were pulling his leg, that I was getting ready to turn him over 
to them, with my blessings and thanks, when his best friend Mitch, a 
handsome young Irishman came to my rescue. We had double dated with him 
on a few occasions, and I thought he would be fun to go with, so when he 
asked me for a date, I gladly accepted. I don't think it was quite as 
much fun for Hattie and Elsie after that. I didn't bother to find out. 
Mitch and I went together for sometime but after a misunderstanding, 
which was brought about by Bill and his sister-in-law. I was so furious 
at the time that I would not listen to Mitch's explanation or forgive 
him, so our friendship ended.

     I have laughed about it since. It seems that my girlish efforts to 
win a little more lover-like display of friendship such as holding my 
hand - was misconstrued and confided to his friend. Then Bill and his 
sister-in-law passed it on to me knowing I would do just what I did.

     With the exception of the small pox epidemic, life in sugar House 
went on smoothly and happily for all concerned. Fronia had married before 
we left the west side, and was living near us. Livey had married a Sugar 
House girl, Mary White, daughter of an English convert to the church, 
Alfred White. That fall after a "love at first sight" and whirlwind 
courtship, Sudie became Mrs. Frank Bywater. His parents were residents of 
Sugar House. Frank's father was Joseph G. Bywater who was an engineer for 
the DBRGRR where Frank was also employed as a locomotive fireman. They 
moved to the west side where he would be near the Round House. Hattie was 
also destined to meet her future husband, Ervon Fairbanks, in Sugar 
House.

     About this time, Fronia and her husband moved to Parker, Idaho, a 
little town in a farming community. He was working as a brick mason on 
the Sugar Factory then under construction in what is now known as Sugar 
City, Idaho. Mother went up to visit them in the summer of 1904. While 
she was there Barney, who was twenty-five, had rode to Hehi on his 
bicycle to see a girl friend, he came back hot and exhausted and went to 
bed. He woke up during the middle of the night with severe chest pains.

     We sent for Dr. Stewart, who pronounced it pneumonia. He advised us 
not to send for mother, he thought he could control the virus, he was 
very attentive, and made two and three calls every day, but the 
treatments seemed to get no results, and finally we sent for mother 
because he kept asking when she would be home. A neighbor, Mrs. Chi 
Alston, came in and helped us nurse him, and other friends did all they 
could.

     When we told him she would soon be home, he would ask us every time 
the street car came up the hill, if mother was on it. He passed away 
before she could reach his bedside, as she had been delayed in making the 
trip home. It didn't seem fair for him to die without seeing his mother, 
as he tried so hard to live until she got there.

     While Fronia lived in Idaho, I stayed with her one winter and 
attended school, I was in the seventh grade. Mr. Johnson taught the 
seventh and eight grades, and every few weeks the two grades faced each 
other in a spelling match, I was the champ for the seventh grade, a girl 
I shall call Mona Mason the eight grade leader. So far I had stood up 
with this girl after all the rest of the students had missed a word and 
taken their seats, and had won every time, this had become a rather 
monotonous event to the teacher. One day a long list of words were 
written on the black board, we were allowed to study them for probably 
ten or fifteen minutes, then they were erased and we formed a line for 
the spelling match, which proceeded as usual with the usual results, 
except for a tense moment when I thought I would lose my championship; I 
had mispronounced a word, which nearly threw me. When that word was 
called I didn't recognize it as being on the list. I wondered if a word 
had been slipped in to trip me, I knew everybody in the room wanted Mona 
to win, she being a local girl, I stood silent until my mind had swept 
down the list of words until I reached the word that must be the one just 
called, and spelled it, correctly.

     Instead of Mona taking her seat when she missed the next word, she 
was allowed to stand until I missed a word, then Mr. Johnson said it was 
a tie. Mona was a very nice girl, and probably a better all-round student 
than I was, but I have wondered if Mr. Johnson's dubious decision was 
justified. It may have saved her pride, and to a degree upheld the local 
spirit, but I never respected him as much again. I'm not completely 
honest in everything, but in a contest or game, I have to be, or I cannot 
feel that I have won.

     Barney's death brought about drastic changes in the financial 
affairs of the family, he had been the main support of the family, 
Willie's wages could not suffice. We all had to go to work. Though I 
wanted to continue my schooling, I was not encouraged to do so, mother no 
doubt thought it would be unfair to the others to have to support me. It 
is easy to say where there is a will there is a way. I was like a babe in 
the woods, without encouragement and a helping hand, I was lost, and 
neither one was extended.

     I heard of a lady who wanted a girl to live with her as a sort of 
combination companion-maid relationship, her husband was a traveling man, 
and she didn't like being left alone, she paid small wages, but the work 
was very light, and knowing my limitations, I didn't expect much. Mrs. 
McQueen was a lovely lady, and we got along exceedingly well from the 
start. I lived with her about a year, but when I heard of an opening at 
the Union Paper Box Company, which would pay me twice as I was now 
getting, I thought I had better take it. Mrs. McQueen understood and I 
left with her best wishes, after promising to go back and visit her 
whenever I could. I liked my new work, I was assistant at one of the 
machines that pasted paper on shoe boxes.

     Mother had decided to take in boarders, Frank Bywater, Sudie's 
husband, who was now an engineer on DBRG advised her to move to the 
west side near the Round House, (where the engines are turned) so she 
could board railroad men, they were a good risk, and he could send her 
all she could take care of. She moved back to the west side near where we 
had lived when we first came to Salt Lake City. Julia quit her job and 
went home to help mother with her work.

     Mother made it clear that she wanted us girls to keep our hands off 
her boarders and we solemnly promised not to touch them. I had no idea I 
would ever have more than a passing interest in any of these men, so 
promises were easy to make. Mother believed us, and trusted us, but 
neither she, nor any of us, reckoned with the natural attraction, when 
youth meets youth of the opposite sex.

     I shall never forget the day I came home from work, and Julia, who 
was staying home to help mother, met me and told me that two boarders had 
arrived and were upstairs in their room. The stairway came down through 
the kitchen, and needless to say, I stayed where I could see them when 
they made their appearance, which they presently did - that was how I met 
the man I was to marry.

     He was a tall, lanky young man, being the youngest of the two, and 
the most unsophisticated. I can't say that I was particularly impressed 
by him at the time, but was later attracted to him because of his obvious 
efforts to appear indifferent. It seems he was more drawn to me, as he 
told me later that he had said to himself, "This is the girl I am going 
to marry". So it was love at first sight with him. The other boarder was 
older and more friendly and talkative. Before dinner was over, he was 
laughing and talking to everyone. No doubt, he was the more attractive of 
the two, at least more sophisticated.

     As time went on, I found myself using what subtle methods I knew how 
to employ, to attract the attention of that rather homely young man from 
Iowa, whose name was George King. My bashful efforts were rewarded, but I 
didn't know how well I had succeeded until the actions of others, who had 
no such intentions, precipitated the matter.

     It was New Years Eve 1905, Hattie and her friend Elsie had time 
hanging on their hands, Ervon, who was Hattie's fiancee, was in Canada, 
and Elsie, probably thinking they were new conquests in the Jones' 
boarding house, was a constant visitor. This day they were itching for 
excitement. Frank Bywater had told us if we wanted to go the Round House 
and help blow the old year out and the new year in, he would get 
permission from the Round House foreman to let us in. Now Hattie and 
Elsie wanted to go, but for some reason, which I think was the lanky 
young man from Iowa and another boarder, Chuck Johnson, they didn't want 
me and Julia to go with them.

    When they invited Bill Martin and Jud to spend the evening; (these 
young men were ex-boyfriends of Julia and myself), we thought there was 
something rather strange, but it was not made plain until after the young 
men arrived and soon afterwards Hattie and Elsie disappeared. I will say 
in all modesty that the young men seemed to be perfectly satisfied to be 
left behind, but I was determined that Hattie and Elsie were not going to 
get away with any more of their meddling escapades. I knew where they had 
gone and pretending a gaiety I was far from feeling, I then proposed that 
we all go over to the Round House and join in the fun. Julia and the 
young men fell with my plan and away we went, merrily rushing into the 
foreman's office, where we found Hattie and Elsie surrounded by a group 
of young railroad workers, some of our boarders included. The girls 
seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, but looked like they had been 
caught stealing sheep when they saw us. If Bill and Jud knew they had 
been jilted or stood up, and used, they didn't seem to mind, and 
apparently had as much fun as any one.

     I was quite surprised when George King, who was the host or helper 
that evening, left Elsie's side and practically took possession of the 
land-lady's little daughter. I was boosted onto every engine he moved 
that night, helped into the engineer's seat and given the cord to pull 
the blow whistle. It seemed wonderful to be a part of all the tremendous 
noise and fun, welcoming the fateful year of 1906. That lark broke down 
the barrier of reserve between George and I, and from that evening on we, 
more or less, went steady.

     George was working nights, so we had to go to the afternoon shows, 
on my days off. Some mornings he would walk to the Box Factory with me 
before he went to bed, after getting home from work. One morning, while 
we were walking to my work, we noticed a crowd of people gathered in a 
vacant lot on the other side of the street, being naturally inquisitive, 
I wanted to cross the street to see what had happened. We crossed the 
street and pushed our way through the crowd, until we could see what had 
drawn the crowd. A dead man was sitting against a tree with a gun in his 
hand, sightless eyes staring into space. I thought for a moment I was 
destined to share the fate of the curious cat. My senses reeled, and my 
stomach almost heaved beyond its bounds, only by hurrying away was I able 
to keep my equilibrium and also my breakfast. It was a very distressing 
experience and when I reached the Box Factory, I was so pale the girls 
wanted to know what was the matter, I tried to tell them my ghastly 
story.

     Happily, that was the only time our walks to and from my work ended 
with unpleasant consequences.

     In July of 1906, George's brother Jim, came to Salt Lake City and he 
also bearded with mother. About that time Hattie became engaged to Ervon, 
and I became fiancee of George, having given my promise to exchange with 
him "I do", about Christmas. Julia and Jim had double dated with George 
and I several times during the summer, though not engaged, they were 
going rather steady.

     Hattie and Ervon Fairbanks were married in November of 1906 and in 
December, George and I took the same step. We were married in the old 
City and County Building, with County Clerk David A. Smith performing the 
ceremony. Julia and Jim acted as witnesses. We rode the trolley car, and 
on the way, it jumped the track, as it was snowy and slippery. I secretly 
feared it was a bad omen. In the evening a family reception was held, and 
a nice dinner served. The next day we left for Iowa, where we spent our 
honeymoon.

     If ours was not an exciting honeymoon, as some honeymoons, it was 
our first and only one, and quite wonderful in our simple and 
unsophisticated minds, though I would not recommend a trip back to the 
old home as the most ideal place to spend a honeymoon. Especially if one 
happened to be as shy and self-conscious as I was. At times, I felt like 
a specimen on display. Many of George's family and friends had never seen 
a Mormon, and their veiled curiosity and scrutiny gave me the feeling 
that they were looking for my horn. A few times some friendly kidding was 
cut short by a silent signal, or a hurrah "George's wife is a Mormon". 
This was a little embarrassing to me, but didn't bother George at all, he 
just laughed it off and seemed to be more proud than otherwise, of his 
little Morman wife.

     I fell in love with his father and mother, who were very nice to me, 
and made me feel that they accepted me. I liked all his folks.

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