Collins Family Biography - Letter by E. E. Collins

	Letter submitted by Lois Ralph, great-granddaughter of E. E. 
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								Vermillion, S.D.
								February 1, 1940

To our five sons and two daughters:

	Last evening I finished a short, six-page history of the Vermillion, 
Methodist, pioneer church. Brownie is milked, the calves fed, the chickens 
cared for and there is wood in the basement for future fires. Why should I not 
use the time in putting on paper some facts and thoughts concerning your 
ancestors and yourselves? If necessary labors press for your time, as for many 
years they did for mine, you make not take time out to read these lines til 
you have reached the eightieth mile stone. Now my time is my own and I would 
be glad indeed to read, in some detail, concerning the thoughts and acts of my 
forebears and their fellow pioneer associates. “Time marches on” and some day 
you, too, will have satisfied the pressing demands and will get real pleasure 
in reviewing factors that influence people who through heredity have handed 
down to you tendencies some of which, no doubt, have become life habits with 
you.

	First, then, about your grandfather, Edward Carleton Collins, born May 
18, 1836 in Concord, New Hampshire. His parents, Joseph Collins and Phebe 
Heath Collins with their family moved to Michigan where the eldest son, Edward 
C. met and married Charlotte Ann Cook August 18, 1857. The writer, E. E. C. 
was born June 27, 1859, and Joseph Erie August 26, 1862. The father farmed and 
taught a rural school. He and the wife’s brother, Joseph Cook, could cradle 
and bind more grain in a day than other Cass County harvesters and they were 
unique because they did not use alcoholic drinks to keep them cool in the 
harvest time or to keep them warm in the winter wood chopping.

	March 1864 the Collins family started west and arrived April by way of 
St. Joe, Mo., the Missouri steamboat to Sioux City where met by Uncle Kirk 
Collins who had driven Father’s team of horses across country. The homestead 
was located two miles northwest of Elk Point. With oxen Father broke up the 
raw prairie, planted sod corn, some potatoes and cotton wood saplings. It was 
a dry year and the hoppers came in the fall to eat what little had grown. I 
have no memory of a word of complaint from either parent. Your grandparents 
could take whatever came with the grit of true Puritan stoics. The half dozen 
families in that New Michigan settlement had not left their religion back east 
and soon organized Sunday gatherings in their various homes. Such a meeting at 
our home December 1, 1864 was attended by B. C. Galliday presiding elder of 
the Des Moines district in Iowa. Father spoke to our neighbors that day and 
Galliday must have felt that the farmer-stock raiser could do some good in the 
community for he licensed him to preach, bury the dead, marry the young and 
exhort sinners to repent of their sins and turn to clean living. I cannot 
remember Father’s style of speaking nor the lessons he presented to listeners. 
However, I have a little blank book which contains texts and outlines of more 
than forty of his addresses and these give me a glimpse into his mind and 
heart. ...

	As I remember Father he appears as a practical man whose feet were upon 
the solid ground, nevertheless, he must at times have tried to look beyond the 
todays for once he preached upon Revelations 21 a chapter full of the visions 
of John and again from Luke XX, 35 and 36 in which Jesus tried to tell 
listeners that spirit, mind, soul, personality is the real individual and the 
body only the dwelling house for a brief time.

	Father liked to trade horses, cattle, and other goods with neighbors. I 
never heard a word of anger, or criticism during such dickering and while a 
boy was told, “Be half as good a man as your father and you will satisfy us.” 
I have studied his legislative talks and votes and they seem to verify 
neighbors’ high regard for him.

	My father’s parents were typical Puritans, never breaking nor even 
bending. But out of their home came at least four fine characters, gentle, 
kind, true to high ideas and without a trace of bigotry. Aunt Nellie, Uncle 
Kirk, my father and Aunt Jennie loved, and were ever ready to help, everyone 
in need. These two sisters and one brother of Father’s I, as a man, knew well. 
Aunt Nellie Shattuck’s children are all dead, I believe, but Uncle Kirk, who 
died in Idaho some years ago, left two and three sons and one daughter, all 
still living, I think, in the neighborhood of Moscow, Idaho. If your travels 
take you through that city, look them up.

	Aunt Jennie Wood produced Gertie, Vernie, Eddie and Harley. Vernie is 
dead, but Gertie Wood-Parker has a good home in Elk Point; Eddie Wood lives in 
Lincoln, Neb, but Harley I’ve lost track of. All three are fine folks and 
would be glad to visit with you at any time.

	I visited Aunt Sarah Merrill at her home in Petoskey, Mich. Many years 
ago. A son and a daughter were then living but I seem to remember hearing that 
both died. Uncle Joseph Erie Collins died in the Civil War unmarried. Uncle 
Albert Collins had three girls--Josie Collins-Marshall and Viva Collins-Finnie 
both now live in Hawarden, Iowa. We lost track of Edna.

	Doubtless, you all have vivid memories of your mother’s father, Gramp I. 
N. Flanagan. In many ways he was like my father; both loved a good joke; both 
had many friends and few enemies; both had decided view upon most questions 
and would uphold those views with sound logic and, on Gramp F’s part, with 
keen repartee. Both were generous and openhanded--no hungry person appealed in 
vain to either. Gramp F. loved a game of cards; under pressure could say a 
cuss-word, but his anger soon disappeared and he never held grudges. He 
delighted in good horses and told me of working for a southern planter in his 
early years where his work was caring for and conditioning Kentucky 
thoroughbreds. We never learned whether or not he had Irish ancestry, but he 
certainly sympathized with the Irish in their opposition to English 
domination. He told me once of joining a band of Fenians that invaded Canada 
but they were driven back across the ice and many were thrown into jail. If he 
served time for the escapade, he did not admit it. He was born October 16, 
1814. The largest attempt against Canada was made in 1866 at which time he 
would have been more than fifty years old. Probably he joined one on the small 
groups that were active in 1848.

	Grandma Flanagan was born in Ontario, Canada, Sept. 12, 1823 as Mary A. 
Drinkwater. She died when Connie was seven years old, so none of you can 
remember her well. She was a small woman but not frail in body till well 
advanced in years. She was the mother of nine children, all of them died 
except the youngest, your mother. Unlike the other three of your grandparents 
she was a quiet, retiring person who never obtruded her person or her opinions 
upon others. She could not be called a good mixer, nevertheless, those who 
knew her well prized her friendship and admired her tenacity in holding to her 
ideals.

	My mother was a large plump woman who enjoyed good food and jolly 
friendships. Hospitality was large in her nature and in her practice. Both 
grandmas were excellent cooks and took great delight in seeing their children 
and others as well, sample their handiwork.

	Connie united with the church September 18, 1892 when Gilbert D. 
Cleworth, the "Boy Preacher," was our pastor. March 25, 1894 Mable was passed 
by the same man. Chester and Cecil were admitted to full member ship February 
13, 1898 by the able and congenial gentleman, John Prince Jenkins, who the 
following year was promoted to the superintendency much to the sorrow of all 
Vermillion people. September 24, 1905 Laurence, Marjorie and Harold completed 
our group by joining under the leadership of Arthur C. Shepherd. What a jolly, 
warmhearted companionable fellow "A.C." was. He, too, was lifted from 
Vermilion and made superintendent of the Mitchell district. Our folks made 
quite a fuss and were induced to submit, only when promised Will B. Shepherd.


							Dad

							E. E. Collins