{"sEcho":1,"iTotalRecords":100,"iTotalDisplayRecords":100,"aaData":[{"dia_id":1,"dia_surname":"Allen","dia_name_short":"Lewis Ashbury Allen Letters","dia_name_long":"Letters from Lewis Ashbury Allen to his father","dia_sub_fk":32,"sub_fullname":"Owsley, Sandy Garrett ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":null,"dia_text":"

\"PicturePhoto of Lewis Asbury Allen<\/sa> (1846 - 1925) was taken at Mayjer, Columbia County, Oregon. Lewis<\/sa> was the son of William A. Allen<\/sa> & Mary 'Polly' Ward Allen<\/sa><\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Background:<\/sa> William A. Allen<\/sa> was born in 1819 South Carolina. His brother, Wilson B. Allen<\/sa> is mentioned in the The Biographical Souvenir of the State of Texas<\/sl><\/bg>, [along with an article on his nephew, Stanmore J. Allen<\/sa>], and was one of the first settlers of Fannin County in 1837. The following year, he brought his Mother and siblings to Fannin County from Haywood County, Tennessee. Lewis Asbury Allen<\/sa> was born in Fannin County in 1846. He may have been born at Allen's Point.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Wilson B.<\/sa> and William A. Allen's<\/sa> mother, Mary Wilson Bruce Allen<\/sa>, received a total of 3,520 acres from the Republic of Texas (unsure of reason). As head of household, Mary<\/sa> received 320 acres of land north of Honey Grove, and 320 acres on N. Sulpher Creek.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

In addition, she received 160 acres for each of her two single daughters, and 320 acres for her three single sons. The two older sons, Hiel S.<\/sa> and Wilson Bruce<\/sa>, were both married and each of them received 640 acres in grants.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

By 1874, Lewis Asbury Allen<\/sa> had moved to California and wrote to his father, William A. Allen<\/sa>, who was still in Fannin Co. Texas:<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Letter One<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Dec the 18 1874
Shingletown, Shasta Co. Cal.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dear Father<\/sa>,<\/p>\r\n\r\n

I avail myself of this oportunity to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well and think I had better stay here.\r\nTo _____ ______ & have bin told by a gentle man that he would in _____ me 15 dollars per bushel for bardarch [Bois d'Arc] seed delivered in Kansas City. I can stay here and send you all the money I can make and you get the seed out and I will go to kansis city by the time you get redy to ship them and I will write to what house to ship to and sell them and come home. I will send you money enough to pay all the expenses and give you half. I will send you money each month if you think it will pay. You find out what the cost of the shipment will be and make calculation whether it will pay or not. The chances is we will get more than 15. I think 15 dol will give us a good proffit. The cost of shipment here is 50 cts\r\nper hundred. Write as soon as you get this. As ever your son until death,<\/p>\r\n\r\n

L.A. Allen<\/sa><\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Letter Two<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Jan the 22 1875 Klatts Mill Shasta Co. Cal<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dear Father<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

I avail myself of this opportunity to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well hoping when those few lines comes to hand they will find you and family injoying the same blessing.\r\nWhen you write to me write to the same place Klats mill Shasta co California. I have bought in ten shears in a quick silver mine.I am going to make or brake. The company has been offered 20 thousand dollars already for the clame. I am the 12 Shear holder. I think in the spring they will offer one hundred thousand. The company sais they will sell for that and no less.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

If I get the twelfth of the amount I will come home on the jump. I own a ranch and about 90 head of hogs. I am getting along in this country so far ______ well. I guess I had better stay as long as I am doing well. I spoke to you in the other letter about bordarch [Bois d'Arc] seed. If they hit a good crop I will send you money in freight expenses getting them out. You need not work a lick yourself. I hope to hear from you soon.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Lewis<\/sa><\/sa><\/p>"},{"dia_id":2,"dia_surname":"Braly","dia_name_short":"Hugh & Nancy Braly Letters","dia_name_long":"Letters to and from Hugh & Nancy Braly of Honey Grove, Texas","dia_sub_fk":33,"sub_fullname":"Fry, Steven ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":null,"dia_text":"

Steve is related to the following families: <\/sa>Fry<\/sa>, Braly<\/sa>, McCrary<\/sa>, Adams<\/sa>, Peery<\/sa> and others in Fannin County. The Frys<\/sa> settled in Ladonia.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

All of these letters are written to Daniel Adams<\/sa> and his wife, Susan McCrary Adams<\/sa>. I have transcribed them EXACTLY as written--mistakes and all. They are sometimes hard to read due to a lack of punctuation and spelling errors, but they give wonderful descriptions of life in Fannin County, TX in 1847. The originals of the letters are found in the Johnson County Heritage Library in Warrensburg, MO.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The first two are from Hugh Braly<\/sa> and Nancy Braly<\/sa> of Honey Grove, Texas and Elijah M Braly<\/sa> (Elijah<\/sa> including a note on his father's letter). They mailed on the 11th April 1847 to Mr. Daniel Adams<\/sa>, Johnson County MO Warrensburg (according to the envelope's information).<\/p>\r\n\r\n

April 10, 1847
\r\nState of Texas Fanin County<\/p>\r\n

Dare Brother and Sister,
\r\nI have once more got my pen in hand to write a few lines to you to let you know that we are all yet in the land of the living and injoying tolerable good health and hops thos lines may find you all well. We rec'd your letter dated January 10th, 1847 which gave us grate satteshfaction to hare of your wellfare, James Cummons<\/sa> and family is in tollerable good health at preesnt, we have had a verry hard winter and a backward Spring. people are backward and with thear planting yet, wheat looks wors this Sprin than common but it is begining to rise and it may make a good crops yet, wheat now is worth one doller per bushel corn fifty cents per bushel; the mxeican war is going on yet one coumpany of vollenteer Started from this county last Sunday,the Indians has been Stealing horses on trinity and about the ..x..timbers, all winter we are expecting a call for men to go theare as the rangers has ben cawled off to the mane armey, I wount you to tel Hobson<\/sa> that I am neading what he is owing me and I wount him to pay you forth with, I may go to se you this Spring but I have not farely determend, Mary Adams<\/sa> is living with James Cumons<\/sa>, Henderson<\/sa> and Melissey<\/sa> is living with me if I could get fixt with horses and a suteable wagon I would take the childern to thear grandfather Adams<\/sa>, Cummons<\/sa> wounts to keep Mary<\/sa> but for my part if Some of the childern is sent back I wount them all to go to geather Kates<\/sa> brot his child to Cummons<\/sa> last fale and left it theare and waus to have been back for it in march but he has not come yet, I wount you to write to me as soon as you can when you gete this, I got the Ponny by chance that W T Braly<\/sa> sent back to me from Srievesport an have Sold him for three cows and calves gave my respects to friends and neighbors, We remone your loving Brother and Sister while life Shal last
\r\n\r\nHugh Braly<\/sa>
\r\nNancy Braly<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

[Also written at the bottom of the letter were the addressees:]
\r\nDaniel Adams<\/sa>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Susan Adams<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Elijah<\/sa>'s section starts without salutation or date:<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

It is comomon to make fills her on vacant land and I hav found a vacancy in fathers leter and now I file on it father leter comes back I will come back with him you sed in yur leter that ma by you wod winter heir and we have got alarge frme bilding onhans and if you come we hav got two good fier places and if you shold come we can fix fir you to stay with us very comptabel if we donte come back we will finish the house this fall then we will hav rome a plenty, I am now agoing to till youhow the winter has Sarved us it has made sum of the catle mosts racked [a fold in the original makes this word difficult to decipher<\/sa>] poore we hav had ice three inches thick and sum sno but not a nuf to cover the ground the timber and praries is gren and beautiful so no moor at presant<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Elijah M Braly<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

The next letter is from E. M. Braly<\/sa>. The envelope reads:<\/sa>
Wright to me on the Recept of this I think hour letters are pass now without interRuption. E. M. B<\/p><\/sa>\r\n

Addressed to:
\r\n\r\nMr. Daniel Adams<\/sa>
\r\nWarren Burgh
\r\nJohnson Cty Missouri
<\/p>\r\n\r\n

It has 2 postmarks:<\/sa>
\r\nPaid and HONEY GROVE TEX NOV 9
\r\nHoney Grove Texas. November 6th\/ '55<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dear Uncle<\/p>\r\n\r\n

My self and Fathers family are in tolerable health at ths time hoping if this comes to hand it may find you all enjoying the same<\/p>\r\n\r\n

I recd yours of Oct the 4 which was much satisfaction for me to heir from you, the friends and Relations are all well as far as I am aquainted at this time Wm Joseph Dickson<\/sa> and his oald Lady lef heir yesterday. They are all well out in Colin Cty. This has bin a verry healthy season For the Docters are a bout to starve or work for a support. Times are hard in this country money scarce and stock high Good work mules are worth $100--mules coates 30 to 40$ Oxens run from 40 to 65$ pur yolk. Cows and calvs are worth 16$. and stock cattle are rating by this lot at 7 & 8$ per head. Hogs no sails. I was at a sail a few days since whair a lot of Spanish Mars of one hundread Head was soald at from 35 to 71$ pur head on a twelve months credit such as I have and purchest in Mexico for 15$ pur head and colt throad in and the coalts are worth 15$ pur head now tho I woud not take that for them as they are no expence to to me and will make a big interest on the money I soald two mares & one mule of the same stock at that sale on 12 months credit for curiosity One of them braught 65$ & the other 61$ & the mule 45$ them was big licks for Texas money is is hoped to be plenty in a year from now.<\/p>\r\n

We are all in grait spirits about the grait Picific Rail Road, evry man in this country has taken stock but me and I doant want any Road stock Polaticks in this state is at a high pitch and getting worse all the time. Democrat & nonuthings is all the talk<\/p>\r\n\r\n

I have declined coming to Missouri this winter with stock as I think it would be a dull business I may go to Saint Louis in February next if the River rises to get some mashienry and try my hand a gain in that line I either have to leave Texas or Get married or brake a promise and to leave the state is much the easiest for me to do tho pretty girls is pleanty heir and Land is Remarcable cheap and wheat groes fine & sells well and some Cheat to the wheat crop in this County is rated at one Hundread & twenty five Thousand Bushells by the men that run Thrashrs in this County. And if next year is a crop year for wheat they will be as much again or more. The preasant crop is about soald out at and $100 pur Bu Corn is selling at 50 cts pur Bushel & pleanty at that. Tho if the foart contracters comes in heir they will raise the price Corn n the western cty is now worth 100$ pur Bu. Groceries is verry high salt is worth 12$ pur sack & verry scarce. Coffee 25 cts pur pound. Sugar 16 2\/3 cts. I have nothing of intrest to write to you tho you can sea that from the above lines<\/p>\r\n

Mother send hir respects to you all and that Aunt Elizabth Cummins<\/sa> Has as bad health as she allways has. Aunt Caroline<\/sa> & Uncle Stephans<\/sa> is a doing vrry well they have two children one sun & one Daughter & naims being William Albert<\/sa> & Nancy Ana<\/sa>, I can say for Uncle Hiram Kimzey<\/sa> he is well and lives one mile from heir & Bachelors as is common with him he is a Justice of the Piec and maks a vrry good Judge.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Yours Fraternally, E. M. Braly<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

The next letter is from Elijah McCrary<\/sa> to his son and daughter in Buchanan MO [his daughter is Susan McCrary<\/sa> who married Daniel Adams.<\/sa>]<\/p><\/sa>\r\n\r\n

May the 25th 1846\r\nBuchanan MO<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dear Son & Daughter I take this privilege of Sending you a few lines I am tolerably well at present and all the friends except on of Pleasant Yates<\/sa> little sons are well. Wishing these lines may find you enjoynig good Health -- Times are hard the peple are very late in pitching there crops and Some are not Done Planting yet -- I wish to know if you have ever heard from the Land office yet whether the Pattent has come back yet I wish to come Down as Soon as I get word that the Patent is come If you get any word Send me a Letter -- We have got two Letters from Texes Since I was There Cates<\/sa> and Coming had Landed Safe and Betsy<\/sa>'s [Elizabeth Cummins<\/sa>]<\/sa> health was much improved and They were all well pleased with That country -- I have notheing of importance to write to you but remains yours affectionate Father Till death<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Elijah McCrary<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The final letter is from Levi Braly to Daniel Adams.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Fannin Co. Texas august the 31 1856<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Deer ucle and family I this Take my pen to inform you that J and Martha an is both well hoping these lines may reech you enjoying the same state of helth I havent any thing of much intrest to right to you. our County has been remarkeable dry this yer. Stock water is very scers, corn crops and onls [or ouls, but that doesn't make sense either]<\/sa> are not more ten half as good as comun though ther will be enougf made for the next yer half is cheap. cows and calfs can be baught low enoughf Mules are hy enoughf threw tis cuntry. Negros bares a very fare prise field hands are worth one thousand Dollars and one Sanies [???]<\/sa> are much higher then that Land is raten low enough aman can by vry good tractes for one dollar puracre I have baught aplas joining Uncle James Cumins<\/sa> our houses are not more the one quarter of amile apart. His family is all well he is doing vry well.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n

Fathers family ws all well the other day grandfather and grandmother is as well as could be expected I havent hrd from uncle William Peeryes<\/sa> for thre weeks they wore al tolerab well at that time James Peery<\/sa> was elected surveyor in the Deestrict of Cook County he got a majority of 40 vots sow that there friends ware very neere equall brother Elijah<\/sa> has been running a thrusher the Last three mounths I havent herd any word from ol uncle Abrim Adams<\/sa> or his family<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Tell them if they are liven yet that John Adams<\/sa>es children are bote well [a third child, Melissey<\/sa>, died in 1853 and is buried in Grayson County]<\/sa> that Mary<\/sa> is a stoute helty good looeking yewng Lady well behaved and industres & Henderson<\/sa> is as large of his age as any he is a sensable Smarte boy. Wright to me when you can you and ant Susen<\/sa> My PO is<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n

North Sulpur Fannin Texas
\r\nI remain yowrs
\r\nLevi Braly<\/sa> [full name is Hugh Levi Braly<\/sa>]<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

To Mr Daniel Adams<\/sa>
\r\n\r\nJohson Co Misouri<\/p>"},{"dia_id":3,"dia_surname":"Dunn","dia_name_short":"Martha Ann Senter Dunn Remembers","dia_name_long":"Martha Ann","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":null,"dia_text":"

\"John Martha Ann \"Mattie\" Senter Dunn<\/sa> recorded her memories and dedicated them to her children. She started working on her memoirs in 1969 and last worked on them in 1971.<\/sa> <\/p>\r\n

In the course of her Memoirs, Mattie<\/sa> never discloses her parents' names, her maiden name, nor her husband's name. Since she wrote the memoirs for her children...who already knew those answers, it was not necessary to include their names. For us, however, it was unclear if her married name was Dunn<\/sa> or Senter<\/sa>. In the course of investigating the answer, we uncovered a good bit about Mattie<\/sa> 's family and have included our research notes<\/sl>. For the record: Mattie<\/sa> was the daughter of John R. Senter<\/sa> and Emma West Senter<\/sa>. Her husband was John M. Dunn<\/sa> <\/p>
\r\n\r\n

My Youth<\/h4>\r\n

I was born the 7th day of January 1890 five miles south of Bonham, Texas in Fannin County. I was born in a log house. My father cut the logs for the log house. Father<\/sa> bought forty acres of timber land. That was long before I was born. He cleared the land and sold the logs in Bonham to help pay for the land. Father even dug the stumps out. I suppose part of them were burned out. We had a fireplace. Every night Father<\/sa> called us all in and he read the Bible and prayed. Father<\/sa> worked hard and was tired and he went to bed.<\/p>\r\n

Some time later Father<\/sa> built on a side room with boards on the north. We did not have rugs of any kind, just board floors. Our one room log house was eighteen by twenty feet, as far as I can remember. We had cane bottomed chairs. Later on in years Father bought a one room shack with a porch. He joined it to the log house. The porch was a breeze-way. The room was our kitchen, fourteen by fourteen feet. It was on the west side of the log house. Then on the front he made a small bedroom, a small porch on the west. All the building took place before I was ordered.<\/p>\r\n

My Father had a well dug there close to the house. The well was walled up with brick. That big well has been there eighty years or over and it has never gone dry. I have drawn lots of water from that well. The well was dug before my time by a Negro named Plez<\/sa>. He worked for the Purdys. I remember seeing him when I was little.<\/p>\r\n

I lived in the old house with my folks until I was fourteen years old, the year that Florence<\/sa> was born. Father<\/sa> had the old building moved away and in September he had a four room house, all made new.The house had four porches and three fireplaces. A hall was between the fireplace rooms. The south room was us girls' room.<\/p>\r\n

I remember a lot of things that happened when I was a little girl. One time Mother<\/sa> told me not to climb in the loft. We had two big barns. Mother<\/sa> called, \"Where are you?\" I said. \"Here I am.\" I told her I wasn't in the loft. I lied to her, I was like other kids. I got a licking for that. One time she sent me to wash the dishes and I went out on the porch and sat down. Then I got licked again. This all took place in the old house.<\/p>\r\n

In the Senter<\/sa> family was twelve children that lived to be grown. One brother died at eight years of age (Neely<\/sa>), and Albert's twin sister<\/sa> died at three months old. Mother<\/sa> had several mishaps. There would have been six girls and nine boys. I can't remember all about the others. I did all the washing at fourteen and most of the cooking. So you see I have worked ever since I was knee high to a duck.<\/p>\r\n

Florence<\/sa> was born July 25, 1903. That was the year Father<\/sa> built the new house. Virgie<\/sa> and Florence<\/sa> said I was their second Mother. I took care of them or helped Mother. I even changed the diapers on the little ones when I was a very small girl.<\/p>\r\n

Us kids walked two and a half miles to school in the black mud. No pavement roads. At that time the little town was called Edhube. It had one school, two churches, a post office in a store. All of you children thought you had a hard time on the Householder<\/sa> farm. Us kids didn't have Sunday clothes. I had one pair of shoes. The boys milked the cows in a dirty lot. They got mess on their shoes and didn't have any to change to put on to go to school. They had overalls and blue shirts. Mother<\/sa> made all the underclothes out of cotton flannel. I never had a pair of store-bought panties until I was married, not even a bought slip. I wore black stockings to school.<\/p>\r\n

I wasn't by myself.<\/p>\r\n

We all had a good time and plenty to eat. Father<\/sa> killed eight big hogs every year. When I was sixteen I took a half bushel of eggs to Edhube to the market. I walked and carried them, no other way to go.<\/p>\r\n

Florence<\/sa> was born in 1903 while we were still in the old house. Vernie<\/sa> was the only one of the kids born in the new house. I cooked the first meal in the new house. Mother<\/sa> wasn't able to do any work so it was up to me. After Father<\/sa> died I helped the boys to milk the cows. They were drying up the cows to where we didn't get very much milk and butter. So the old cows mended up. That was boys for you, with no father.<\/p>\r\n

Years after Father<\/sa> bought the first forty acres he bought another forty acres. He cleared the land of trees and that was what we called the lower forty.<\/p>\r\n

The year that me and your Daddy<\/sa> moved to Bonham, we lived in that room that was our kitchen before the new house was built. Luther<\/sa> was nine months old and Edna Mae<\/sa> was a little girl at that time. Mother<\/sa> and Father called that room the smoke house. That was where they salted all those hogs down, in the old house. Aunt Sally<\/sa> and Uncle Mose Hickenbottom<\/sa> would come and have meetings in that breezeway. At that time I had the mumps in one side. Mother<\/sa> had the mumps at the same time.<\/p>\r\n

The last licking my Father gave me was over Pearl<\/sa>. That was in the old house. Mother<\/sa> went to a neighbor's to help her have her baby. Pearl<\/sa> asked me for some bread. I broke a biscuit in half and gave to Pearl<\/sa>. She let out a big cry. Father<\/sa> gave me a good hard licking with a peach tree limb. I didn't slap her like Pearl<\/sa> said. I was hurt because I knew I didn't do anything to get such a licking. After I got over my cry I told Father<\/sa> I did not slap her. He said \"I'll never whip you any more\". I wasn't too old, neither was Pearl<\/sa>. Pearl<\/sa> has caused me to get more than I deserved.<\/p>\r\n

I remember when Luther<\/sa>, my brother, would swipe eggs from the henhouse and get candy. He would give me part of the candy. I never told on him I liked candy too. I remember when I was sprinkled in the Methodist Church. I was only three years old. I cried when the water ran down my neck. I still have the certificate. It was in 1893, the eleventh day of August. The paper is rotten.<\/p>\r\n

When I was a girl at home, we didn't have bought soap. We took a bath with lye soap. And we didn't have dusting powder, we used starch. I am sure Father and Mother<\/sa> did their best with all us kids. I don't hold anything against them. I believe they did their best.<\/p>\r\n

Mother<\/sa> said I was a cry baby when I was a little girl. I guess I am still a bawl-bag. I can cry at most anything. When I was a little girl we didn't have store bought play-things. We made our playhouses with old broken dishes. Some of them was cups and plates to us. We had a big wood yard with several big oak trees, nice shades. One of the boys made a swing and we would see how high we could swing. Years later we had a well dug in the mule lot. It was an artesian well and the water ran day and night. It went down through the field in a deep gully. Us kids would wade in the water. East of our house about a quarter mile was a big hog lot, about two acres. Once my cousin and I were out walking. I climbed the gate into the lot. There was a great big boar hog. I heard him coming. Believe me, I got out of the pen in time.. That hog would have killed me. I knew he was in there. You see all kids take chances. Another time I jumped off a big haystack and almost broke my neck. Uncle Jimmie West<\/sa> lived with us when we was in the old house. You all remember him when he stayed with us on the Householder<\/sa> farm one winter.<\/p>\r\n

When I was a wee little girl I didn't know about a washing machine. We had a wash board. That was a hard way to wash. This day and time we couldn't wash on a board. I remember when Mother<\/sa> and Father would make hominy in our big washpot outdoors. Sometimes it would be yellow corn. Mother<\/sa> would pack it in big churn jars.<\/p>\r\n

And we made green tomato pickles and put then in big stone jars, five or six gallon jars. We also made chow-chow and put it up the same way, also kraut. This day and time we can everything or put stuff in the deep freeze. Time sure has changed in the past seventy-nine years, or fifty years ago. Under the old house we had what we called a cellar where Mother<\/sa> would put canned stuff and we kept our milk in the cellar sitting in a tub of water. We changed the water every day. All the ice we had was in the wintertime.<\/p>\r\n

After Father<\/sa> had the new house built we had screens on the doors and windows. That house is empty now and going to rack.<\/p>\r\n

Father<\/sa> was a farmer. He raised corn, cotton, wheat, and we had two big pecan trees on the lower forty. We sat by the fireplace in the wintertime and ate pecans. Those trees were there the year your Dad and I were married. Dad<\/sa> planted turnips so you see we ate turnips and cornbread. Boy, was they good! We would churn every day. We did not have enough buttermilk to pour out to the hogs. We had a little black dog. He sure was good to kill rats. When us twelve was all at home, for breakfast we had biscuits, syrup, butter, and most of the time we had eggs. The old hens would go on a strike and stop laying eggs. We never bought eggs. We ate gravy and did not grumble because it wouldn't do any good. I sat at the end of the table where I could wait on the table, go get hot bread and pour the milk. Then after each meal was my time to wash dishes. Sometimes Pearl<\/sa> would dry the dishes. She would leave them wet so next morning I would get bawled out. I said \" Pearl<\/sa> dried them.\" I got slapped in the mouth by Mother<\/sa>. She thought the sun and moon rose in Pearl<\/sa>. I got all the blame.<\/p>\r\n

I had the sweetest Dad in the world. It nearly killed me when he died. Dad<\/sa> was so nice to me. He was fifty-five when he died. I guess I was like other kids. I did a lot of crazy things. Lewis<\/sa> and I got out in the hog pen after it had been raining. Wasn't any hogs in the pen and we had a time wadeing in the hog pen. We both got a good licking. I am sure we needed it. So you see you kids didn't get all the lickings. I can look back and see that I didn't go to school clean. This day and time it's a bath every night. I can't remember washing my hair in the wintertime. Now I wash my hair every week.<\/p>\r\n

I have an enlarged picture of my Father and Mother. It was taken before my time.<\/p>\r\n

When I was small we still lived in the old house. Mother<\/sa> raised geese and she had a small pen to keep them in. While Mother<\/sa> picked the feathers, I had to hold the geese and they would bite me. Then I'd have to cry. This is where Mother<\/sa> got all the feathers to make pillows and feather beds. I have a feather bed that my Mother<\/sa> had and one that Daddy's Mother<\/sa> had and I put both of them together so you see the bed is quite old. You see I am a scatterbrain with no schooling. I get things spelled wrong.<\/p>\r\n

Sometimes I wonder how poor old Mammy<\/sa> got along having all her children. Mother<\/sa> raised twelve to be grown and married. You see I did the work for Mother, like washing, cleaning house, cooking, washing dishes. I suppose Mother<\/sa> didn't feel like doing very much work so they all called on me. That's why I never went to school very much.<\/p>\r\n

I was eight years old when I started to school after Christmas, after my birthday. I was kept out of school off and on the first year. That year I did learn my a b c's. I couldn't even write my name when school was out in June. Every time there was work to do Mammy<\/sa> kept me home. That was the way I had to do until I was sixteen. The year that Vernie<\/sa> was born, I was kept out of school one year. I quit going to school because I wasn't learning anything. Mammy<\/sa> was sick all the time. That's why I had to stay home. I washed for all the family. In between the big washing I had to wash diapers. Then I washed on the washboard. We had oil lamps and that was my job to fill the lamps and clean the lamp globes. Mammy<\/sa> taught me how to quilt long before I was sixteen. When we lived in the old house,in the afternoons Mother<\/sa> had to make clothes for us children and I would have to rock the baby in the cradle. And I pieced my first string quilts. I pieced them on paper by hand. We still lived in the old house. I don't remember just how old I was at that time. One time Mother<\/sa> and Aunt Dovie<\/sa> went to Gainsville, Texas on the train to visit her sister, Aunt Nancy Winton<\/sa>. I was left at home with my Pappy. I had to cook and wash clothes. I don't know who was the baby at that time. Mother<\/sa> was gone a week. I cooked for several of my brothers. Sometimes Pappy<\/sa> would help me cook. We were still in the old house. Mammy<\/sa> had me to catch a fryer and kill it. I didn't break the chicken's neck. Mammy<\/sa> said I choked it to death. You see we were in the old house until after Florence<\/sa> was born. I was sixteen in January when Vernie<\/sa> was born in Feb, I believe.<\/p>\r\n

I'll try to tell about my Pappy. He was a tall slender man with a good head of hair. His hair was reddish color mixed with brown. My Pappy<\/sa> was well thought of. He was honest. He had a mustache ever since I can remember. The year he died I suppose he was too sick for anyone to keep it clean, so someone shaved it off. Pappy<\/sa> and Mammy<\/sa> loved each other. He made a good living. Pappy<\/sa> would buy sugar by the barrel. Sometimes it was brown sugar. Every day I'd get me a big lump of sugar and eat it. Us kids never got much candy. At Christmas time Pappy<\/sa> would get a sack of apples and a bag of stick candy. Mighty few playthings that we got. Pappy<\/sa> didn't have the money. We'd have pound cake that Mammy<\/sa> made.<\/p>\r\n

She would bake them in a big pan that we cooked biscuits in. And no icing.<\/p>\r\n

Mother and Daddy<\/sa> would go to Bonham in the wagon for groceries and other things. It was five miles to Bonham. Mother<\/sa> would leave the children with me. Even a baby that was about six months old. I would give the baby milk to drink and feed him or her with a spoon.<\/p>\r\n

I was only fourteen or fifteen years old. I nearly forgot my age so you children see I learned to be a Mother very young by helping Mother<\/sa>. I could go to the kitchen and cook a big meal for company, while Mother<\/sa> would visit with the ladies that came. After we all ate I washed the dishes and then I'd have to take the little ones out and play with them. The company would go home. Then I'd have to wash diapers and take them out to the well, draw water and wash them out. Pour out the dirty water and put them in clean water and get soap and rub them on a wash board. You never did have to do diapers the hard way. I am not sorry that I learned to work. I guess I should have said I have washed diapers every since I was big enough. All I knew was work, work.<\/p>
\r\n\r\n

My Love<\/h4>\r\n

\"JohnFirst I'll say, before I was married, my Grandpa West<\/sa> and Aunt Dovie<\/sa> and Uncle Jim Ferguson<\/sa> lived at Byers, Texas. Grandpa<\/sa> took me home with him to Byers for a visit. I stayed two months with them. Clara Ferguson<\/sa> was Pearl<\/sa>'s age and some younger than me. We both had a swell time going places. Clara<\/sa> had a boyfriend by the name of Abner King<\/sa>. I have pictures of him now. Clara<\/sa> and Abner<\/sa> made a blind date for me on Sunday. Uncle Jim<\/sa> lived down close to the Byers Lake. On Saturday evening Clara<\/sa> and I went for a walk between sundown and dark. Here came your \"Daddy to be\"<\/sa>. And I met him there. He was to be my blind date on Sunday. He was farming out south of Byers and was on his way home. I didn't know what to think. He was living at Aunt Mat Wallace<\/sa>'s. She was Maude Herrin's Mother<\/sa>. Maude<\/sa> and Cora Wallace<\/sa> were sisters to Lou Spence<\/sa>. The Wallace<\/sa>'s lived where Pearl<\/sa> lived in that two room house across the street north of Bertha<\/sa>'s place. Bertha<\/sa> didn't live there at that time. The house Bertha<\/sa> lives in now was the Methodist parsonage. Then it was sold to Mr. and Mrs. Lynn<\/sa>. They ran a dry good store in Byers.<\/p>\r\n

I went with your Daddy<\/sa> every Sunday. Clara<\/sa> and Abner King<\/sa> and us. We two couples stayed close to each other. Clara<\/sa> and I had a special time to be back at the house. Us four would go to church on Sunday night.<\/p>\r\n

I helped pay my way while I was at Aunt Dovie<\/sa>'s. I washed and ironed for Mrs. Tucker<\/sa> so you see I didn't lay around while I was on a visit. I helped Aunt Dovie<\/sa> with the work. Clara<\/sa> didn't take hold of work like I did. I was the oldest. Aunt Dovie<\/sa> told me I could stay with them and Clara<\/sa> and I would pick cotton together. I had to work hard at home. Mother<\/sa> wrote me and told me to stay if I wanted to. Of course I wanted to. Willie<\/sa> came out and said I had to go home. Willie<\/sa> was always trying to run somebody else's business. At Aunt Dovie<\/sa>'s every week I jumped in and helped Aunt Dovie<\/sa> wash. We only had a wash board. Clara<\/sa> cried when I left to go home. Us four went lots of places at Byers. I couldn't go there now. At that time a boy didn't have a lot of money to spend, so us four never did go anyplace to eat like young upstarts this day and time.<\/p>\r\n

After I got back to Mother<\/sa>'s I had to wait on some of those lazy brothers. Christmas after I was visiting Aunt Dovie<\/sa> in July and August, your Daddy<\/sa> came to Bonham to see me. Oh yes, Daddy<\/sa> and Abner King<\/sa> had a nice rubbed tire buggy. It had a top. The two boys had good horses to drive. Each had a different buggy. Us four sure had some good times together. Your Daddy<\/sa> was the nicest boy I ever went with. He said I was the girl for him and I just laughed at him. Ever who reads this will think it's silly. I'll try to have it typed and have the mistakes all fixed right. Lots of water has run under the bridge in the last sixty years. Time sure has changed, never to be that way any more.<\/p>\r\n

After Daddy<\/sa> came to see me that Christmas he left Byers and went out somewhere in West Texas and got a job, and was thinking of going to California. So he wrote me in March 1909 and ask if I'd be his wife. I put it off from time to time and wouldn't tell him. I wanted to be sure I loved him before I said yes, so we made it by writing and we set the date, April 18, 1909. We were married in Mother<\/sa>'s house at 2:30 in the afternoon by a Brother Tarpley<\/sa>, a Baptist preacher. We stayed two weeks with Mother<\/sa>. That was our honeymoon. Then I packed up what I had. We caught a train to Wichita Falls, then went on to Byers We lived with Grandpa Dunn<\/sa> and Bertha<\/sa> for several days. Then we went to Jim<\/sa> and Irene Collins<\/sa> and stayed a while. I got tired of staying with people. We rented Mrs. Boyd<\/sa>'s little two room house. We did not have much but we was happy. That meant everything.<\/p>\r\n

The first year we were married we moved to Erick, Oklahoma in a covered wagon. With two old plugs to drive we was heavy loaded. We also pulled a buggy behind the wagon. We hadn't drove very far till Dad<\/sa> got out to walk and drive. He got too close and the front wheel ran over his foot and mashed off the big toenail. We stopped at a house of someone Dad<\/sa> knew and had his foot dressed. Then we went on our way. It took us eleven days to make that trip. I got sick on the road and we stayed all night in a wagon yard in Vernon, Texas. Dad<\/sa> saw a doctor. He told him what was wrong. So by noon we left there. The last night we camped out it came a big snow. We only had to drive four or five miles on. We went to the one room house. There wasn't any windows in the house. I stayed with a neighbor and Dad<\/sa> went into Erick and got windows and put them in. In two or three days he was home. So you see we had it rough. We had up two stoves and boy was it cold! It was the last of December or the first of January. That was one move we did wrong. We lost our first baby girl<\/sa> in Erick. I nearly died. Mr. Willson<\/sa> had sent Dad<\/sa> out to Erick to look at the place. After we got there and set up housekeeping, Dad<\/sa> dug a well and put up a windmill. There was an old half dug-out there . That's where we put the horses out of the wind in the winter. Now I can look back and that was a horrible place to live. Though we were happy.<\/p>\r\n

Sometime the last of January, Tommie<\/sa> came to see us and was we happy he came. In wheat harvest time Lewis<\/sa> came out. Me and Dad<\/sa> was working. Dad<\/sa> run a bundle wagon and I cooked at the cook shack. I got $2.00 per day and Dad<\/sa> got $1.50 per day. I liked the work. I had twenty-five men to cook for three times a day. Then we ran into gyp-water and I couldn't take it so we quit and went home. Lewis<\/sa> stayed on the job. When he finished, Lewis<\/sa> came back to our place and stayed a while, then left for home.<\/p>\r\n

That fall, Dad<\/sa> picked cotton just a mile from our house. I picked some cotton at that time. I was expecting Edna Mae<\/sa> in March. I picked 100 pounds a day. Edna Mae<\/sa> was born the 27th of March, 1911 at Denton, Texas. We stayed at Denton and made one crop of corn, no cotton, and then moved to Ponder, Texas, just sixteen miles from Denton. A man by the name of Blair<\/sa> rented us a house. We put in a big cotton crop and corn. There was two houses on the place. Jim<\/sa> and Irene<\/sa> lived in one. We did not get a thing out of that year's work. Jim<\/sa> and Dad<\/sa> had it round and round. Jim<\/sa> tried to boss Dad<\/sa> in everything he did. So Dad<\/sa> got all he could take. We loaded up and caught the train at Decatur, Texas and went back to Byers. Jim<\/sa> has always tried to be boss, what I call a smart-alec. Those two\r\nnever did get along.<\/p>\r\n

Grandpa Dunn<\/sa> had a grocery store and Dad<\/sa> went to work for Grandpa<\/sa>. We got a house to live in. The very next year Jim<\/sa> got fired and came back to Byers and he got smart with the landlord. Byers is the last place I'd want to live. So you children see what a rough time we had. You all had it better when you got married than we did. Poor old Dad<\/sa>, I still love him though I have been alone little more than five long years. Now I can look and see many changes in the years gone by. Dad<\/sa> got a lot of bumps and knocks on his head. I know me or Dad<\/sa> never got to go to school much. Dad<\/sa> had a scar on his head where a 30 lb. iron fell on his head while he was working on the windmill at the Byers ranch. Edna Mae<\/sa> and Luther<\/sa> was very small, too small to remember. That hard lick he got on his head like to killed him. That is the reason he is where he is now, that lick did something to his brain. And when Dad<\/sa> was in Wichita Falls hospital to have his appendix removed, he went out of his head and jumped out of a window fifteen feet down on top of the men's toilet. Dad<\/sa> was out of his mind and didn't know what danger it was. It was all caused from that lick on his head. You know I have always prayed that nothing would happen to your Dad<\/sa> until all you children were grown. It would have been bad for me if I had been left with all you children small. Years went by and a little more than five years ago he got sick and I was left alone and It's been a very unhappy life for me.<\/p>\r\n

Remember old Roy Estes<\/sa> run into Dad<\/sa> when we lived on the Householder<\/sa> place. Broke several ribs. He was caved in pretty bad. That was another hard lick on his head. And one more time he was hurt, I forget just where we lived. Dad<\/sa> got a hard fall after we came to California. Seems like poor old Dad<\/sa> has had plenty of trouble. Then this finally showed up on Dad<\/sa>. He hadn't been well for a year or more until he had the first stroke on Sunday night. We were in the Assembly of God Church when it hit him. I noticed something was wrong and I said let's go home. He couldn't tell me what was wrong after we got home. In a little while he went to bed. Next morning he still couldn't talk. I got hold of Madeline Reynolds<\/sa>, a nurse that lived across the street. She came over and she knew he had a stroke. We got him in the car and took him to the county hospital after Madeline<\/sa> called. He never did get better.<\/p>\r\n

You all know what all took place then. Rufus<\/sa> caught a plane from Guam soon as he found out his Dad<\/sa> had a stroke. It sure has been hard on me to see him in that shape.<\/p>\r\n

We lived in Erick, Oklahoma when we lost our dear baby girl by the name of Christeen Dunn<\/sa>, January 2, 1910. I hurt my back and she came early. She was born dead. Edna Mae<\/sa> was born at Denton, Texas March 27, 1911. Melvin Leach<\/sa> was born dead in Byers, Texas October 2, 1912. We lived in Mr. Long<\/sa>'s house, south of Bertha<\/sa>'s place in Byers, down the street. Luther Lafayette<\/sa> was born in Byers, September 19, 1913. We lived in Mr. Doyle<\/sa>'s house, the last house on the right going out to the Householder<\/sa> farm, west of Byers. Rufus<\/sa> was born January 9, 1920. We lived up near the school in a two room house. Bessie Lee<\/sa> and Jessee Dee<\/sa>, twins was born September 27, 1921. Both died. Eula Faye<\/sa> was born in that two room house March 13, 1923 near the school. Udell<\/sa> was born in the same house December 31, 1924. Haul<\/sa> and Paul<\/sa> was born March 7, in the same house. Nobie<\/sa> was born January 24, 1930 in our three room house in town North of Bertha<\/sa>'s house down the street. Woodrow Oberlin<\/sa> was born on the Householder<\/sa> farm September 7, 1933. He didn't live. It's a thousand wonders I am alive today. I nearly died several times giving birth to my children.<\/p>\r\n

This is the 18th day of April 1971. Sixty-two years ago me and your Daddy<\/sa> was married on the 18th day of April 1909. I can look back and remember many, many things. We had Brother Tarpley<\/sa>, a Baptist preacher that married us. In 1910 my Mother<\/sa> married to Walter Roberts<\/sa> by Brother Tarpley<\/sa>. If I am not wrong, Brother Tarpley<\/sa> married Pearl<\/sa> and Virgie<\/sa> the first time they were married. Since 1909 lots of water has run under the bridge, so to speak.<\/p>"},{"dia_id":29,"dia_surname":"Dunn","dia_name_short":"Martha Ann Senter Dunn Research Notes","dia_name_long":"Martha Ann Senter Dunn Research Notes","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":2,"dia_prevnext":"28|0","dia_text":"

Senter\/Dunn Research Notes<\/h2>

In the course of her Memoirs<\/sl>, Mattie<\/sa> never discloses her parents' names, her maiden name, nor her husband's name. Since she wrote the memoirs for her children... who already knew those answers, it was not necessary to include their names. For us, however, it was unclear if her married name was Dunn<\/sa> or Senter<\/sa>. In the course of investigating the answer, we uncovered a good bit about Mattie<\/sa> 's family and have included our research notes below. For the record: Mattie<\/sa> was the daughter of John R. Senter<\/sa> and Emma West Senter<\/sa>. Her husband was John M. Dunn<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

On the 1920 Census, she is Mattie Dunn<\/sa> (born about 1900) with spouse John M. Dunn<\/sa> (born about 1886). They are living in Byers, Clay Co. with children Edna M<\/sa> (abt 1912) and Luther<\/sa> (abt 1914).<\/p>\r\n \r\n

On the 1930 Census, they are still in Byers as John M Dunn<\/sa> (abt 1886) and Mattie A Dunn<\/sa> (this time birth date is abt 1890) with children Luther<\/sa> ( age 16), Rufus<\/sa> (age 10), Ula F<\/sa> (age 7), Udelle T<\/sa> (age 5), twins Hall<\/sa> and Paul<\/sa> (age 3 1\/2) and dtr Nobbie G<\/sa> (age 3 mos). John M Dunn<\/sa> is a laborer on a cattle ranch. These all match her descriptions.<\/p>\r\n\r\n \r\n

The 1900 Census, Justice Precinct 1 (south part), Fannin, Texas, lists John R. Centers<\/sa> b. Jan 1853 in Illinois; wife: Amie E.<\/sa> b. Jun 1867; Children: Albert A.<\/sa> b. Jun 1885; William L.<\/sa> b. Oct 1886; Thos M.<\/sa> b. Jan 1888; Martha A.<\/sa> b. Jan 1890; John L.<\/sa> b. Mar 1891; James N.<\/sa> b. Jun 1892; Luther D.<\/sa> b. Apr 1894; Laura P.<\/sa> b. Jan 1896; Floyd O.<\/sa> b. Dec 1897; and Virgie<\/sa> b. Nov 1899.<\/p>\r\n\r\n \r\n

Mattie<\/sa>'s mother was called Emma<\/sa>. On the 1910 Census, Emma<\/sa> (age 42, born about 1868) is living in Fannin Co. with her second husband Walter Roberts<\/sa> (age 27, abt 1883). This matches her note about mother remarrying Walter Roberts<\/sa>. Residing with them are stepchildren of Walter Roberts<\/sa>. These children are: Luther Senter<\/sa> (abt 1894);Pearl Senter<\/sa> (abt 1896); Floyd Senter<\/sa> (abt 1898); Virgie Senter<\/sa> (abt 1900); Bluford Senter<\/sa> (abt 1902); Florence Senter<\/sa> (abt 1904); and Vernia Senter<\/sa> (abt 1905). Mattie<\/sa> is not listed here but she indicates she may have left home before this. Emma<\/sa> was reported to be the mother of 15 children, 12 still living. In Family trees on Ancestry, she is Emma Ellen West<\/sa> with birth places and death places in several conflicting areas. Some show she died in Colorado, but none mention Walter Roberts<\/sa>.. All of them do; however, show her husband as John Raven Senter<\/sa> (born 9 Jan 1853 in Flora, Clay, Illinois) and died 14 Mar 1908 in Bonham. One family tree shows children of Emma<\/sa> and John<\/sa> to be Martha Ann Senter<\/sa> and Luther Delano Senter<\/sa>. View JR Senter<\/sa> Death Cert (limited info) in Texas Death Certificates.<\/p>\r\n\r\n \r\n

Family trees in Ancestry also show Emma's father as James T. West<\/sa>---------that matches her \"Grandpa West\"<\/sa>. James T. West<\/sa> in Ancestry Trees also had a daughter, Dove \"Dovie\" West<\/sa>who married James Alexander Ferguson<\/sa>----------that matches her Aunt Dovie<\/sa> and Uncle Jim Ferguson<\/sa>.<\/p>\r\n\r\n \r\n

She mentions they stayed with Grandpa Dunn<\/sa> and Bertha<\/sa>. On the 1920 Census, Joseph T. Dunn<\/sa> and wife Bertha<\/sa> were in Byers, Texas. He was age 70 and Bertha<\/sa> (wife) was age 39). Looks like Grandpa<\/sa> remarried a younger woman. He was a Post Master and she was a clerk in the Post Office. Mattie<\/sa> said he had a grocery store, but maybe that was at a different time.<\/p>"},{"dia_id":32,"dia_surname":"Hampton","dia_name_short":"Interview of Nicy Gilbert Hampton","dia_name_long":"Interview of Nicy Gilbert<\/hi> (Fuller) Hampton, 17 Nov 1893","dia_sub_fk":430,"sub_fullname":"Rogers, Donna ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":null,"dia_text":"

The Dallas Morning News<\/bi>
\r\n18 Nov 1893<\/p>

\r\nDays of Indian Raids<\/bi>
\r\nWhen the Torch Aided the Knife and Rifle
in Desolating Settlements<\/hi><\/p>

\r\n\r\nLast night the News reporter called at the residence of Mr. S. J.Hampton<\/sa> editor of The Review<\/hi>, for the purpose of interviewing his mother, Mrs. Nicy A. Hampton<\/sa>, who resides with him, in regard to her recollections of early times in Texas.<\/p>

\r\n \r\nMrs. Hampton<\/sa> is one of the few surviving pioneers in Texas, and is the daughter of Mabel Gilbert<\/sa>, a fearless, brave, and nobel pioneer, who settled in Fannin county as early as 1837, a few months after the fall of the Alamo, and about the time the resolution of censure against President Jackson<\/sa> for the removal of United States money from the national bank was expunged from the records of the senate of the United States, very largely through the efforts of Thomas H. Benton<\/sa> of Missouri. The panic of 1837 burst upon the country as the family was en route to Texas. Thousands of business men found themselves ruined, and even states became bankrupt. The government was forced to an irredeemable paper currency. Farm credit was annihilated.<\/p>

\r\n\r\n\r\nThe President of the United States could not get his salary when due from the United States Treasury. This panic was due to assaults on capital following a fever of speculation, such as Texas has witnessed the last two years. And much foreign and American capital was withdrawn from industries and commerce that necessarily collapsed.<\/p>

\r\n\r\n\r\nMabel Gilbert<\/sa> and family settled on a claim about three miles south from where Bonham now stands, and about the same distance from Fort Inglish,which was strongly garrisoned and kept as a place of refuge for the early settlers in case of an Indian uprising against the whites.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nIt is said that Mabel Gilbert<\/sa> made friends with the Indians and for a while he and his family lived in peace. Such was his tact in gaining the friendship of the Indians he was called a second William Penn<\/sa>. But this did not last long. The Indians became more excessive in their demands and Gilbert<\/sa> being unable to meet them began hostilities against him. Finally the savages were guilty of so many outrages he joined an expedition from the fort and rendered signal service in assisting them in capturing an Indian village situated in Cooke county, and recovering a large number of stolen stock, and other property belonging to the settlers.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nThis and many other tales are told of Mabel Gilbert<\/sa>, the father of Mrs. Hampton<\/sa>, who, in answer to questions said:<\/p>\r\n\r\n

\"I am the daughter of Mabel Gilbert<\/sa>, was born in Dixon County, Tennessee in 1822, came to Texas with my father in 1837. He settled on 1280 acres of land donated to him by the government about three miles south of where Bonham now stands. We arrived here Oct. 1 of that year. Where now you see the thriving little city of Bonham there was nothing to be seen but buffalo trails, wild turkey, deer, antelope, wolves, coyotes and occasionally a few buffalo. My father erected a substantial house on his claim and for a time we lived in peace. Indians frequently came to our house and partook of the bounty of my Father, who always treated them kindly. Finally the Indians went on the warpath, killing and scalping a number of settlers and carrying off their property. This created consternation in the settlement, and we frequently went to Fort Inglish for protection. This Fort was situated in the Northeastern part of where Bonham now stands. I can recollect one day when the Indians had made a raid, killing and murdering a number of settlers. My father and all the men folks went in pursuit of the savages.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\nAt that time we had a small block house at our place, built by my father for protection in time of danger. We saw about twenty Indians approaching the house all in war paint. There being no men left to defend the block house, my mother, then having a nursing babe, realized that it was impossible for her to escape. She called all of us children to her and told us to flee through the forest to Fort Inglish and give the alarm, if we could evade the savage foe. She said she was tired of this kind of life and would stay and die. Of course we were all greatly alarmed and all vanished in the woods, except a young negro named Smith<\/sa>, who my father had raised. He refused to [?], and told my mother he would stay with her and die.\"<\/p>

\" \r\n\r\nMy mother told him to get an ax and hide behind a tree; that she would step out and meet the Indians, and if they attacked her for him to spring out and fill as many as he could before they killed him. The brave negro promised to comply with her request, and firmly gripping his ax took his position behind a tree. She then advanced a step or two to meet the Indians with her babe in her arms. To her great surprise they began making signs of friendship, and one of their number, who could speak a little English, gave her to understand that they were friendly Indians and meant her no harm, and asked permission to camp in the grove near by. Se readily consented and gave them bountifully of what she had in store. A runner was sent after us children and we were informed of the glad tidings: that is most of us, for others reached the fort and gave the alarm.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\nCaptain Bullard<\/sa> organized thirty men and a number of negroes, and heavily armed, they hastened to the rescue. When Capt. Bullard<\/sa> arrived at our place he found that the Indians had gone into camp, and we were all back home strolling about the place unmolested. He was about to attack the Indians, when my mother interfered and prevented a battle. But it was very difficult to do this as Capt Bullard<\/sa> was mad and desired to kill the Indians. When they was Capt. Bullard's<\/sa> intentions, the Indians sprang to their arms, but my mother rushed in between them with her babe in arms, and after much persuasion prevailed on Capt. Bullard to not molest the Indians. This he finally reluctantly consented to do, but did not leave until he had given their chief a sound cursing and telling them if he ever caught them in that vicinity again he would kill every one of them. This very much displeased the Indians, and they muttered considerably to themselves, casing angry glances at Capt. Bullard<\/sa> and his men, but my mother soon pacified them and Capt. Bullard and his men returned quietly to the fort. The next morning after many assurances of friendship to my mother, the Indians departed for their village in the West.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\nAbout 1840 I married Berkley Fuller<\/sa>, and we settled on a piece of land just across Bois D'Arc creek east of where Fisher Mills now stands. One day I went down to the creek to wash. Along late in the evening I heard turkeys gobbling, wolves howling, and cries of strange birds in different parts of the woods near by,I knew these sounds came from Indians and fled to the house, where we barricaded the doors, expecting an attack every moment during the night. But day dawned without our being molested. During the day we visited the place where I had left all my clothing hanging out to dry, and found that they had indeed been there and stolen all our clothing. Going further into the settlement they had stolen a lot of stock. The alarm was given and a large party of settlers gave pursuit. In their retreat they dropped a number of the articles of clothing they had stolen from us. The pursuing party followed the Indians to their village, burned it, recovering a large number of horses and cattle which had been stolen from the settlers. These were brought back to the fort and restored to their owners.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\n\r\nSome time after this, my father, Mabel Gilbert<\/sa>, went out on an inspection tour. He went as far west as Little Wichita River, when he suddenly rode upon a thousand Indians camped in a valley. He thought he was lost, and seeing that the Indians were aware of his presence, he knew it was useless to retreat, so, putting on a bold face he rode down into their camp, and through it unmolested, for there were many Indians there who knew him and whom he had favored at some time or other.\"<\/p>

\" \r\n\r\nIn the meantime my first husband died. About the year 1849, I married John Hampton<\/sa>. Soon after this marriage the small pox broke out in our settlement, and in defiance of all we could do there were many deaths. Our graveyards, small heretofore, were enlarged to an alarming extent. Many a home was made vacant and desolate, sorrow and mourning was in the settlement. It took many weary months for the settlement to recover.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\nMy nearest neighbor was Sheriff Cotham<\/sa> and family. Game was plentiful in those days.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\nI remember one day while the men folk were all absent, the hounds jumped a large buck and were pressing it so close it ran into Sheriff Cotham's<\/sa> yard where the hounds succeeded in seizing the deer. Thereupon began a terrible struggle between the buck and the dogs. After a while the buck was about to come off victorious when Mrs. Cotham<\/sa> who was standing in the door witnessing the struggle, seized a large stone from the rude fireplace, ran out and after repeated blows succeeded in despatching the buck. When her husband arrived, she surprised him with a fine venison, well dressed and ready for the pan, pot or coals.\"<\/p>

\"\r\n\r\nAh\", sighed the old lady as she gazed thoughtfully into the fire, \"those were happy days, even when exposed to hardships. After household duties were over I spent my time carding, spinning, weaving, and making clothes for the family. I kept my cows milked, made butter and cheese and raised poultry in abundance. But things have changed since then. When I look around me on the streets of this thriving little city, I see the women and girls going about dressed in the height of fashion. Now days it seems to be considered a disgrace for a woman or a girl to go into the kitchen and cook a meal of victuals, wash the dishes or go to the wash tub and wash the clothes. Ah yes, things have changed, and it seems now that it is growing to be the fashion to consider woman's only mission on earth is to shine in the parlor in society, in the ballroom, and to spend their leisure moments in thumping the piano. We were happier in those days than many of our sisters of today. Old as I am I never, unless I am sick, permit anyone to wash my clothes, and I yet assist in the household duties of my home, and am not happy unless I am doing something useful. And as my days are growing to a close and I can only look into the great beyond for a renewal of my youth and everlasting happiness, I cannot help but reflect with pleasure on the incidents of my pioneer days.\"<\/p>"},{"dia_id":28,"dia_surname":"Johnson","dia_name_short":"Sally Lane Johnson Diary","dia_name_long":"Sally Lane Johnson Diary","dia_sub_fk":119,"sub_fullname":"Commission, Fannin County Historical ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":"0|29","dia_text":"

On the Road to Texas from Kentucky<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Letters from Sally Lane Jameson Johnson<\/sa> to L. C. Jeffries<\/sa> and her diary is from the files of Margaret Johnson Clements<\/sa> The source is unknown. The note at the top of the first page by an unknown source says: \"Sally Lane Jameson<\/sa>, daughter of Milton Jameson<\/sa>, was born in Montgomery County, on Minksoton Creek on the 29th of November 1839. She was married March 12, 1856 to James Johnson<\/sa>, died age 37 years, ten months, 28 days.<\/p>

Oct. 10th 1877, James Johnson<\/sa> stayed with us last night. He left this morning, this will probably be the last time he will ever be with us. He has gone to Texas. (after taking his wife home to Kentucky for burial).\"<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mr. Goodwins<\/sa> near Athens, Fayette County, Sept. 6, 1871.<\/sa> I am now thirty miles on my road to Texas. I cannot realize that I have started. Yet my sadness tells me that some great change has been going on since yesterday morning. Oh, it was so hard to part with my relations and friends. Some it did seem that I could not leave. But the parting has to be and though it grieved me sadly, it has taught me who are my true and loving friends. Though sad, we ate heartily of cake and grapes on a large rock on the Grassy Lick Pike. I will always remember it. Cousin Jim<\/sa> (Sallie<\/sa>'s husband) stayed with the wagons last night. They got here about four P.M. today. They all seem cheerful and seem to think that we may probably get to Honey Grove (Texas) tomorrow night. (This must have been a joke!)<\/p>

\r\n\r\nSept. 7th<\/sa> 5:00 o'clock P.M. We left Mr. Goodwin<\/sa>'s at eight this morning. Came through Athens and then across to the Lexington and Richmond Pike. Traveled several miles on it, crossed to the Nicholasville Pike, where we have put up for the night. I am at Mr. Davis<\/sa>'s and have already found out from his wife that they were good rebel's during the war, and of course kind people. Cousin Jim<\/sa> will remain out with the wagons tonight, and Milton<\/sa> (Jim<\/sa> and Sallie<\/sa>'s young son) will stay in the house with me. I have been thinking so much today of the dear ones left behind and wish that they could be with us. We have passed through some beautiful country today and have seen some pretty houses. But the crops are not near so good as they are in old Montgomery. The land is poor and that of course is the cause of it.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nGarrett County, (Kentucky) Sept. 8th<\/sa>. We have just crossed the river and Cousin Jim<\/sa> insisted that we should put up at Mrs. Baker<\/sa>'s. So here I am, both weary and sad. I do not like the appearance of the people here. I know that when somebody reads this, they will think we are taking our time.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nSept. 9th.<\/sa> The lady we stayed with last night was very kind. I went into her store and got her to weigh me. I weighed 98 one-half lbs. We came through Danville at one o'clock today. I never saw a prettier town. We are at Mr. Cozart<\/sa>'s, eight miles from Danville. Oh, it has been so warm today. I have not been well. But we have traveled farther than usual.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nSept. 10th.<\/sa> We are at a Mr. Greene<\/sa>'s on the Lebanon. It is a very pretty town, but not near so pretty as Danville. I feel tired enough to sleep tonight and hope that I will as I did not sleep any last night.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nSept. 11th.<\/sa> We left Mr. Greenes<\/sa> at eight this morning. Traveled about eleven miles and then took the old Nashville Road and found it very rough. We were directed the wrong way and traveled a mile over the worst hills I ever saw. Cousin Jim<\/sa> suspected that we were wrong and asked a gentleman. He told us that we were wrong. I think I never heard such language as Cousin Jim<\/sa> used when we had to drive out in bushes to turn around. We were detained so much that we only came five miles on this road. We are at a gentlemen's by the name of Morris<\/sa>, who had a son in the Yankee army, under Burbridge<\/sa>. He says he was stationed at Mr. Sterling<\/sa> for a year. His face looked familiar so I could not help remarking to Mr. Dishong<\/sa> that I thought he had assisted in searching our house.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nSept. 12th, Green County<\/sa>. Really, I never saw such a tired and worn crowd as we are this evening. This is the first time our mules have seemed at all fatigued. We came twelve miles this morning over what I thought was the roughest road that anyone ever traveled over, and when we thought we would put up for the night. But alas, this was not easy to do as we had thought. So we crossed the Green River at the termination of the twelve miles and came six miles further. We are now at Mr. Mitchell<\/sa>'s on the bank of Little Barren River. The name of the house ought to be called Big Barren for really I never saw such a dilapidated affair. When we got here, I heard Mrs. M.<\/sa> ask her daughter where the coarse comb was. She told her that she had it Monday morning and that she must look under the floor and perhaps she would find it. It was at last found under the bed, showing how long it had been since the room had been swept. Their heads show for themselves when they were combed and if the house is barren. We are over the worst road to Bowling Green now and are forty eight miles from there. We have gotten along so well that I ought not to murmur. Bit if I had known the roads were so rough, I would not have consented to leave the pike.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nSept. 13th, Bear Wallow.<\/sa> With the very meanest pen and ink in the world, I am now trying to write. I have been wanting to write to you and family for several days, but had had no opportunity. We put up so late in the evening, and start so early next morning and then I am surrounded with a dozen of the whitest headed filthiest children I ever saw. All peeping to see all they can. That you know I have not time to write, but I have sent many loving thoughts to you all since I was forced to part with you. You cannot think how often I wished to be back with you and when I should say that I would try to not think of absent friends so much so that I would not be sad. Then I see something to remind me of them for I have received so many proofs of affection from them. I have ruined my gold pen, am forced to write with a pencil, as this country cannot furnish good pens. We have gotten along very well indeed, until we came to some hills yesterday that were almost perpendicular. They were the other side of Green River and when we got to the river, the hill was short and very steep on this side. I was driving, Charlie<\/sa> and me drove up on the bank and waited for the others. Two mules tried to pull the wagon out, but could not and Cousin Jim<\/sa> and Mr. Dishong<\/sa> put another in front of them. Mr. Dean<\/sa> thought they would do better if he would ride the front mule. He got on it and it began to kick but nary bit did it pull, but by the boys starting the wagon for them they got out. After we were up safely we laughed heartily at how Mr. Dean<\/sa> looked. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> says we will have no need to go to a circus. I tell you that to let you know that our journey is not all sad. But we have a little enjoyment sometimes. Oh, I do wish so often for Leora<\/sa>. I know that she would enjoy the trip so much and then with her I would find so much pleasure in it.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nEditor's Note:<\/sa> There is a skip in page numbers from 1 to page 11. We do not have an account of the remainder of their trip out of Kentucky. Perhaps the date for that account beginning on page 11 is October 4th as \"at Memphis\" is penciled at the top of the page.<\/hi><\/p>

\r\n\r\nThe letters only made me want to see you all the worse than ever. They made me sad and I could not help it. I will read them many time. I have but a short time to write in. It is late in the evening and Mr. Dishong<\/sa> has gone to the river to see if we can cross tonight. Cousin Jim <\/sa> sold a pair of mules for $250.00 today. He is not well this evening and I was never so anxious to leave this place as I am this. If we do not leave tonight I fear that he will not be able to go. I regret very much that you have not been well. You must take good care of yourself. You are to thoughtless of yourself. What would become of us if you our loved physician were gone? I am sad this eve and this thought makes me doubly so. Cousin Jim<\/sa> was very glad to get your letter. Says he never received a letter that he appreciated more. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> did not get your letter. He was disappointed. He was very happy indeed to hear from his Pa<\/sa> & Ma<\/sa>. I want you and Leora<\/sa> and Mrs. Jeffries<\/sa> to write me many long letters, just as those were I got this morning. I cannot get a letter from you al where there is too much said. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> has come. He says we cannot cross until eight in the morning. I am sorry, but cannot help it. If it were not for Mr. Dishong<\/sa>, I do not know what I would do. I would love for you all to see Milton<\/sa> and Rich<\/sa>. They never tire of gazing. Tell Aunt Caroline<\/sa> that Rich<\/sa> (negro accompanying the Johnson<\/sa>'s) has been anxious to get to Mississippi to see the boats and it is now keeping us busy to prevent him from getting lost. I wrote, too, that he was sick. He had two chills, but is well now. Mr. Taylor<\/sa> took me to a grocery and weighed me. I now weight 102<\/sa> and \u00be lbs. I am improving some, but if I were to sleep in the wagon every night, I wouldn't live long. My lungs hurt me more after the night I camped out than they did all the time before. I had quit coughing late in the evening until then. Though Since then, I do not cough as much as I did at home. I tell you this for I know you want to know about my health. The mosquitoes are singing around me by the dozens and oh, such large ones. I will be anxious to get to Little Rock. I will get letters from you all and Leora<\/sa>'s pictures. I want to see it so much, I will prize it highly. This is a hard, cruel worlds of ours, too hard for me ever to try to battle alone. I feel tonight that if I were thrown out upon it, I would give up and die. My tears fall and I cannot help it. I am homesick tonight. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> bids me give his love to you all and to tell you that a Negro man cut his valise open last night and took a cloth coat and a shirt out. The police got on his track this morning and got them back.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 5th, Crittenden County, Arkansas.<\/sa> We left Memphis at eight this morning. We came five miles on the ferry boat and overtook the other party at six o'clock this evening. Cousin Jim<\/sa> has been sick today. Is no better yet. I have had to drive today and not noticed anything. But we have been in a swamp all day, and everyone is sick on the road with chills.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 6th, Cross County.<\/sa> Wearied we all were when we came to St. Francis River this eve at six o'clock. It was too late to ferry all our wagons, so none crossed. There was no house on that side of the river for me to go to. Cousin Jim<\/sa> came down to the crossing place and got a Negro woman to come and take Milton<\/sa> and I over in a canoe. She brought us over to the ferry man's house. He and his wife are not at home. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> and Mr. Sallee<\/sa> have just come over to stay with us. When they came I was very much relieved, for there were four men here who did not make me feel at all at home. Indeed I have less use for Arkansas and the fold therein, than I did for Tennessee. I never want to see them again. Where we have traveled since yesterday morning, we cannot see a foot from the road. Cousin Jim<\/sa> is almost well now, and I am so glad. We have come twenty-five miles today. There are marks on the trees all along the road where the water come to in wet weather. It comes twelve feet upon the trees.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 7th,<\/sa> We have come only twelve miles today. None of us have been well. I coughed last night and this morning and it has made me feel badly all day. We are at Mr. Lawrence<\/sa>'s in Cross County. I guess we will stay here tomorrow. The weather is terribly cold. On Thursday it was warmer than our August days. But since yesterday morning it is equal to November at home.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 8th,<\/sa> I got so cold and it was so dark yesterday evening that I thought I would quit writing until this morning. But this morning we heard that there was a Methodist meeting going on in the neighborhood. So old Mrs. McLane<\/sa> and I got Mr. Dishong<\/sa> to drive for us and we put on our best and went. I have just gotten back to camp and eaten dinner and am now in the wagon for the purpose of finishing my letter. We listened to the sermon, but failed to see the point as to having a thought to strike him. Nary one had he and of course he was not like Brother Reynolds<\/sa>. I know you would have enjoyed going to church in Arkansas with us. The people looked just as they do in Stanton. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> fell in love with a lady who it was plain to see was wealthy, by her watch, chain and rings and cross like yours, but without a particle of taste. Last night the girls went from Mr. Lawrence<\/sa>'s without bonnets or hats.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 9th, Jackson County.<\/sa> We came about twenty miles today. They may talk of level roads in Arkansas but if they are level they are full of stumps. So that our wagon is constantly running over one. I have had neuralgia all day from sleeping last night and the night before in a room with cracks between logs large enough for me to get through. We are tonight where I don't know the names of the people. There is a lady and a gentleman, a young married couple here tonight on their way from Kentucky to Missouri. They are nice intelligent people. Then there are about twenty hands to pick cotton, both men and women and where they are to put us to sleep, with but two room, I cannot tell. I have seen but two.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 10th,<\/sa> We have gotten to a worse place than ever. We have come about ten miles today and seem to have been traveling all of the time too. I am at a Mr. Vaughn<\/sa>'s. There is but one room to the house and it is more open than a barn. There are five men to sleep in this room tonight, besides Mr.<\/sa> and Mrs. Vaughn<\/sa>, Milton<\/sa>, and me. Oh, I didn't think I could dislike anyone or anything as I do Arkansas and the people who live here in this state. All they think of is money.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 11th, White County.<\/sa> We have come sixteen miles today, the day has not been so cold as yesterday was. I am weary and sad this evening. Everything seems to go wrong with me today. I think I want to be at home worse this eve than I have since I left. I have not been sleeping well for several nights. Perhaps this is why I feel so badly. Came through a little town today called Grand Blaize. It is on the White River.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 12th.<\/sa> We have come twenty miles today. Have had rough roads. Crossed Little Red River this evening. It was low and we did not have to ferry it. Came through a very pretty little town called Searcy. I am with a widow lady. Her name is quite new (Smith<\/sa>). When I stayed at St. Francis River, a man asked me if I was keeping a diary, I told him yes. It is so dark that I cannot see to write in my diary.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 13th, Prairie County, Arkansas.<\/sa> We have come twenty three and one-half miles today and have had a better road than we had yesterday. It has rained some today and has turned so much warmer that I fear we will have a good deal more. We came through Austin this eve. It is a very small village with no beauty at all.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 14, Pulaski County, Arkansas.<\/sa> We have come twenty miles today. Have had good roads. It is very warm and has rained some. We are within six miles of Little Rock. I am in a house where there are three families living. They started to Texas last fall from Ballard County, Kentucky, it got too wet and cold to go on. They rented a house and raised a crop. They will leave for Texas as soon as their cotton is taken care of. The lady where I stayed last, did treat me so kindly. She is the nicest lady I have seen in Arkansas. She asked me to correspond with her. If I have time when I get to Texas, I will write to her.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 15th.<\/sa> Really, I never spent such a lonely Sunday. I will be glad when morning comes so that I can be traveling. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> says he hardly had sense enough to ask for letters as the first thing he saw was a Negro postmaster. They have Negro policemen, also, in Little Rock. The Negroes there and around are thought by many to be better than the whites. I dread to go through there.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 16th, Pulaski County.<\/sa> We came through Little Rock this eve. We are now ten miles from there. I am in camp as we could not get a house to stay in. We are all very angry tonight. While we were at Mr. Wicks<\/sa> Sunday, he told us that Negroes were very impudent in Little Rock and that they insulted white people whenever they had the opportunity. The ladies of our company fear to pass through the town. We were afraid some off the boys might shoot a Negro, if he have him any impudence. But all went smoothly until we were just ready to start. Then it was that we found the Negroes had been talking to Rich<\/sa> and telling him that we were taking him to Texas to sell him. We asked for the police, but there could be but one white one found and he was afraid to speak a word. There were over a hundred Negroes just around my wagon where I had called Rich<\/sa>, hoping that would make them leave him alone. It all did no good. They were armed with pistols and guns and all the white citizens, even to the merchants, left the streets as there were eleven of our crowd who were all armed. They thought there would be a fight and there would have been I guess if Rich<\/sa> had said he wanted to go with us for they inted to keep him anyway. I asked him and all the balance of us asked him if he wanted to stay or go. But all we could get him to say was that if were going to treat him as they said, he would rather stay. I then talked to him and asked him if he did not insist upon us bringing him and if we had not been kind to him? Also asked him which party he knew better. But to none of these questions did he give an answer. Indeed he was frightened too badly to say another word. For there were at least twenty of the Negroes had a hold of him. Then Cousin Jim<\/sa> thought if he would order Rich<\/sa> to get in the wagon and drive on, they might leave him. But after they stood back to let him do as he wanted, he could not move an inch. So they dragged him away after Mr. Dishong<\/sa> gave him his clothes. Oh, I do feel sorry for him. He is not to blame. Neither are we for he is silly as a child and was scared into it. I kept Cousin Jim<\/sa> by me and would not allow him or Mr. Dishong<\/sa> to resent the insulting language used to them and to me. For what good would it have done. Our friends would have been killed and would not have saved Rich<\/sa> after all. I sympathize deeply with his parents, for even if they are black they loved their child. My God, I cannot realize that we have taken such impudence. I never want to see Arkansas again, nor do I ever want to look upon another Negro.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 17th, Hot Springs County.<\/sa> We have only come nineteen miles today. We are at Mr. Dysart<\/sa>'s in sight of the camp. I think I will like the people. We crossed the Wasetaw (Ouchita?) River this eve, but did not have to ferry it. I never saw a stream of water have so rough a bottom. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> was riding a mule across it to show us the ford and it fell down with him, wetting his feet.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 19th, Clark County.<\/sa> We have come twenty six miles today. I am compelled to stay in camp tonight. We are all tired and I am not well at all. We crossed the Caddo River this eve. I think it is in Clark County. We only came across the corner of Clark. We came through a beautiful little town called Arkadelphia.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 20th, Clark County.<\/sa> We have only come eighteen miles today. All are tired and think we will not travel tomorrow. I could get no house to stay in tonight, we will remain in camp. I would not dislike sleeping in camp so much, if we had known that I would have to do so and had prepared for it. Mr. Sallee<\/sa> has kindly let Cousin Jim<\/sa>, Milton<\/sa> and me have his wagon, but I think it an imposition to take it so much. We passed through a little town this eve nicknamed Spoonbill. I do not know the right name.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 21st, Clark County.<\/sa> After having a good night rest, I had a very pleasant time in camp today. It has been very warm, but I have been busy and well entertained. Several persons have passed the road and looked at us in utter amazement. Mr. Tuppman<\/sa> is not well. He, Milton<\/sa> and I will leave camp tonight We will travel tomorrow, and in the morning and the other party leaves us.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 22nd, Pike County.<\/sa> Oh, what a rainy, sad Sunday we have had. This morning at ten o'clock all the wagons came by the house where we were and there it was that we said good-bye. We all hated to leave each other, but it had to be. We had a very pleasant little party left. I think we will all get along charmingly. Our party came only four miles from Antoine, the little town where we stayed last night. We will stay here until tomorrow. I wish so much that I could see my home and the loved ones around today.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 23rd, Pike County.<\/sa> We have only come sixteen miles today. It has quit raining and has cleared off warm. We are at a widow Victuro<\/sa>'s. Our camp looks quite small tonight, without the party. We came through a small village called Murfreesboro. I am not very well tonight.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 24th, Severe County.<\/sa> We are at a Mr. Shannon<\/sa>'s tonight and I am very sleepy and tired. We have come twenty miles and over rough roads. We cam through a small village this eve called Center Point. We paid $1.25 per bushel for corn tonight. The first time we have paid over a dollar.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 25th, Severe County.<\/sa> We have come nineteen miles today and over the meanest of roads. We are all tired tonight and it is raining hard. I have been eating in camp this week, Mrs. Royse<\/sa> and I cook together. After our supper tonight which was of sweet potatoes, Cousin Jim<\/sa>, Mr. Tuppman<\/sa>, Milton<\/sa> and I all came up to Mr. Miller<\/sa>'s to sleep. They seem to be kind enough, but oh, filthy! Mrs. Miller<\/sa> chews and smokes and she has several children who are from five years to sixteen and all chew and spit, equal to the Powell County Folks. We crossed two rivers today the first was called Saline and the other was Costock (Cossatot). We did not have to ferry. If we did not have Mr. Royse<\/sa> along, we would not have any fun. He get a stick with a hook on the end to lift the lid from the skillet and calls it the Judy Actor. He says that is seems impossible for us to reach Texas and to keep it from moving as we do, that he will have to have an iron judy actor made to hold it until he can reach it with our wagon. We came through a very little town called Belleville. They had a store in which there was nothing but whiskey and snuff.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 26th, Little River County.<\/sa> We have come sixteen miles today. We are at a Mr. Todd<\/sa>'s. The roads are yet very rough. We ferried the Little River at noon today. We are just in the edge of the Indian Nation. Will have eighteen miles to travel through it. We did not sleep any last night for the bugs. We were forced to lie on the floor after trying the bed, and have a sore throat and my lungs hurt me for doing so. Mr. Tuppman<\/sa> killed a rattlesnake today with two rattlers on it.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 27th, Bucy (Bowie?) County, Texas.<\/sa> We have at last reached the long looked for state. We crossed Red River this eve in a little flat boat that I was afraid to cross in, and came four miles from the river. Really, I have never seen roads that were as tiresome to us and the horses as those we came over today. It was in a swamp and the mud was up to the hubs of the wheels nearly all day. We have come twenty one miles today, eighteen of which was in the Indian Nation. Saw plenty of Indians, but did not talk with any of them. They are thinly settled where we came through. Texas looks now just as Arkansas did. We are at Mr. McCarys<\/sa>.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 28th, Red River County.<\/sa> I have been eating in camp and cooking with Mrs. Royse<\/sa>. We will soon be at Honey Grove. I do not see any difference between Dudley<\/sa>, the boy we had hired at home, and the Indian men, except Dudley<\/sa>'s hair is not straight. We passed one house in the Nation where there were children, larger than Milton<\/sa> with but a shirt on. I am at Mr. Yocum<\/sa>'s, only six miles from where we stayed last night. We stopped there at a blacksmith's shop to get our wagon mended. Have been detained all day. I know that I have never suffered with neuralgia in my head as I have today. I have a large boil on my right cheek that is very painful I have felt well until this week.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 29th,<\/sa> We have traveled all day and have come twenty one miles. The roads have been very good. We came through Clarksville and Mr. Dishong<\/sa> asked in the post office for me but did not get anything. I was disappointed for I had hoped so much that I would get letters from my dear Friends. But it will only be about two days until we are at Honey Grove and then I know I will be made very happy by getting many sweet messages from the loved ones at home. Clarksville has about six hundred inhabitants. It is so pretty at Mt. Sterling<\/sa>. We are with a very nice family by the name of Van Dyke<\/sa>. It is warm and has been raining I did not like the appearance of Texas at first, but we got into the prairie at ten o'clock today and the land and people have been improving every since.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 30th, Lamar County.<\/sa> We have come twenty three miles today. It has been raining very hard all day. We have been traveling through what they called black mud today and yesterday and it does not take much rain to make it impossible for mules to pull through it. Our mules stopped twice today and it was some time before we could get them to pull the wagon out. We are at a Mr. Shell<\/sa>'s. Mrs. Royse<\/sa> and her children, Milton<\/sa> and I are sleeping and eating at the house, the gentlemen are eating at camp. We are within twenty six miles of Honey Grove. I would far rather travel through the Arkansas swamps, than the black mud on the prairies of Texas.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nOct. 31st.<\/sa> We are yet in Lamar County and are eight miles from Honey Grove. We have come eighteen miles today but the mud was so deep that Mr. Royse<\/sa>'s mules gave out and he had to put one of ours in front of his. The wind has been blowing very hard. Our road has been on the prairie all day. But I have been so cold and my jaw pains me so severely that I could see none of its beauties. While the others admired it, Mrs. Royse<\/sa> was busy trying to keep her children warm and I was almost shedding tears from pain. Mrs. Royse<\/sa>, her children and I are sleeping at a Mr. Rutherford<\/sa>'s. The others are sleeping in the wagons.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nNov. 1st, Fannin County.<\/sa> We at last have gotten to the long looked for place. We got into Honey Grove at noon today. Left Mr.<\/sa> and Mrs. Royse<\/sa> there. Found Laura<\/sa> and Mr. Daily<\/sa>. She came out to her fathers with us. We found them all well and glad to see us. She looks just as she always did except she has no front teeth. Hathaway Johnson<\/sa>'s wife is just exactly like Mary McDonald<\/sa> and talks and dresses like her except she is not as intelligent nor so much a lady in her manners. We are tonight three and one-half miles from the Grove. We will live five miles from there. My jaw is very painful and I am sad and homesick. I found several letters here this eve. Mr. Dishong<\/sa> went to the office and got several such welcome ones.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nNov. 2nd.<\/sa> Mr. Dishong<\/sa>, Mr. Davis<\/sa>, Milton<\/sa>, and Mr. Stone<\/sa> (a hand of H. Johnson<\/sa>) all went over to our home with Emma<\/sa>, Laura<\/sa> and me this morning. After they unloaded the wagons, they shook the carpet while we put the leather on the tacks and swept the floor. We put the carpet down and unpacked the boxes and Emma<\/sa> got us a little dinner by the time cousins Jim<\/sa> and Hathaway<\/sa> come from the Grove with two bedsteads, a safe, a stove, a candlestick, sifter, tub, coffee mill and other articles. We then put the beds up and fixed up generally, until it really seemed a little like home. When I first went to the house, I thought I could never be satisfied. But I am determined to try and be cheerful and bear everything bravely. We will have precious little to live on. As Emma<\/sa> says it will be beef and cornbread.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nNov. 4th.<\/sa> We are having a beautiful fall day. But as cold as it is in Kentucky the first of November Cousin Jim<\/sa> and his brothers are killing a beef today. He and Mr. Dishong<\/sa> went out hunting a few minutes yesterday evening and killed five birds and two rabbits. We had rabbit, birds, cornbread and coffee for breakfast. I am writing by the door where I can see the prairie. Just a moment ago we saw an old deer and a fawn running across the prairie with the dogs after them. Milton<\/sa> is all excitement over the deer.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nNov. 9th.<\/sa> We had several people to see us since we came here. Hathaway<\/sa>'s family last week. There was a neighbor called Mr. Spelts<\/sa>. He reminded me very much of the pocket people. Looks very much like Harrison Johnson<\/sa>.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nNov. 12th<\/sa> A letter to me from Mrs. Highland<\/sa> and one to Cousin Jim<\/sa>. Mrs. H.<\/sa> seems very sad over Col. Johnson<\/sa>'s marriage. I am truly glad that he is married.<\/p>

\r\n\r\nThis ends the transcribed diary. The following was added as a \"NOTE\": This family was moving to Texas thinking that it would be a healthier place to live. Sallie<\/sa> was a victim of consumption (Tuberculosis). Her diary not only reveals her hardships but the trials of the pioneer women who endured traveling by wagon train.<\/hi><\/p>"},{"dia_id":4,"dia_surname":"Lamb","dia_name_short":"Rev. Charles E. Lamb of Dodd City","dia_name_long":"Rev. Charles E. Lamb, Dodd City - Confederate Veteran","dia_sub_fk":35,"sub_fullname":"Freeman, Bunny ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":null,"dia_text":"

Confederate Veteran Magazine<\/sa>
\r\nVol. 8 No. 7
\r\n\r\nJuly 1900<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Comrade Lamb<\/sa>'s Reminiscences<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Rev. Charles E. Lamb<\/sa>, Dodd City, Tex.: <\/p>

\"I entered the Confederate service May 1, 1861, in Company G, Thirteenth Louisiana Regiment, R. L. Gibson<\/sa>, colonel. I was wounded at Farmington, near Corinth, in May 1862; was transferred to Fuller<\/sa>'s Louisiana Battery, and captured on Ref River in the summer of 1863; paroled and exchanged at Demopolis, Ala.; commissioned second lieutenant in a regiment from the Trans-Mississippi Department; resigned and served until the close of the war as first duty sergeant of Holmes's Louisiana Battery. Late in the winter of 1865 we were manning Battery No. 8, Shell Road, Mobile, with the Federal fleet at anchor about nine miles down the bay, when I was sent on an expedition commanded by Capt. Holmes<\/sa> to the Mississippi River. This expedition was under orders of Gen. Maury<\/sa>, and composed of picked men and officers, all from the C. S. Navy except Capt. Holmes<\/sa> and me. It turned out to be a fruitless attempt to regain and hold a part of the river long enough to cross men for Johnston<\/sa>'s army. We lost many good men, among them Lieut. Elwood McDermott<\/sa>, as brave and noble a soul as ever died in battle. He was a past midshipman (or ensign, as they call the grade now) at the commencement of the war. He had resigned from the U. S. Navy, come South, and was lieutenant on the C. S. ironclad Tennessee at the fight in Mobile Bay. I should be delighted to hear from any of his family or friends, or any of my old comrades.\"<\/p>"},{"dia_id":6,"dia_surname":"Lawhorn","dia_name_short":"Vista Merle Woods Lawhorn Interview","dia_name_long":"An Interview with Vista Merle Woods Lawhon","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":null,"dia_text":"

An Interview<\/sa>
\r\nPublished in The Ladonia News<\/sa>
\r\narticle undated<\/p>\r\n\r\n

\"ImageIn a study of interviews in journalism, each student was required to make an interview of someone not in the journalism class. The following was so very interesting that we decided to use it as part of our space in The Ladonia News. Mrs Lawhon<\/sa> was interviewed by Donna Pease<\/sa>.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mrs. Vista Merle Woods Lawhon<\/sa>, an only child of Mr.<\/sa> and Mrs. C. H. Woods<\/sa> was born April, 1893, six miles north of Ladonia.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

In an interview with Mrs. Lawhon<\/sa> we learned that she began her education in 1900 in the Ladonia school with Mrs. John Miller<\/sa> as her teacher. She recalls a big bell that rang at 8:30 to begin school every morning and again at 4:30 to dismiss school She is reminded of marching to and from recess to the music of a drum which was sounded by the janitor. From her first grand class thee are only tow of her classmates still living, Mrs. Joe Haden, Jr.<\/sa> and Mrs. B. Gladys Bartley<\/sa>. Mrs. Lawhon<\/sa> graduated form high school in 1911. She then attended Texas Christian College, where she received her Bachelors Degree majoring in English. She then taught in public schools for three years as well as doing some substitute teaching.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mrs. Lawhon<\/sa> was married to Edgar C. Lawhon<\/sa> in 1921. Their only son, who has found children, lives in Honey Grove. Mr. Lawhon<\/sa> was associated with Otto Cain<\/sa> in a drugstore [in] downtown Ladonia.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mrs. Lawhon<\/sa> has lived in her present home on the corner across from the high school since 1905.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

She has been active in many cubs and in other civics activities. She has been a member of the Literary Club, which is now called the 1937 study Club, and the Book Club. She has been a member of the First Christian Church since August 1905.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mrs. Lawhon<\/sa>'s favorite color is blue and her favorite song is \"What a Friend We Have in Jesus.\" She has no particular passtime [sic] or hobbies -- just routine work.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

by Donna Pease<\/sa><\/p> \r\n\r\nArticle Provided by:<\/sa>
\r\nThe Ladonia Historical Preservation Society"},{"dia_id":9,"dia_surname":"Lee","dia_name_short":"Bob Lee's Own Words","dia_name_long":"Captain Bob Lee's Letter to the Bonham News","dia_sub_fk":36,"sub_fullname":"Bartholow, Donna ","dia_page":3,"dia_prevnext":"8|10","dia_text":"

Editors Texas News:<\/p>\r\n

\"If you will permit me the use of your valuable columns, I would like to give you a true statement of what is known the Pilot Grove difficulty, notwithstanding there has been no killing in Pilot Grove at all except Dr. Pierce<\/sa>.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

But to begin:<\/p>\r\n

\"PictureI was raised in this state, and enlisted in the Southern Army, and fought the best I could, until the surrender, when I laid down my arms and returned home to live, as I thought in peace the balance of my life. But how badly I was disappointed you will soon see.<\/p>\r\n

A short time after my arrival home, one night when I was sick in my bed, I was arrested by a party of men: (Israel Boren<\/sa>, Lewis Peacock<\/sa>, James Maddison<\/sa>, Bill Smith<\/sa>, Sam Bier<\/sa>, and Hardy Dial<\/sa>) wearing the U.S. uniform, and was told by them that I would be carried to Sherman to stand trial for offences committed during the War. Of course, I surrendered and was perfectly willing to yield myself. After we had proceeded a short distance from my home another party (in citizens dress) fell in with us. Among these citizens I recognized a party known as \"Doc\" Wilson<\/sa> and several other thieves. Well as we proceeded to Sherman \"Doc\" Wilson<\/sa> began to hint to me that I should buy out and not go to Sherman. Now, you can imagine my dismay, when our entire party, U.S. soldiers and all, halted in Choctaw Bottom this side of Sherman, when off the road, and stationed a guard over me apparently with a view of staying some time. In the meantime \"Doc\" Wilson<\/sa> still persuading me to buy out and escape the punishment at Sherman which he presented as very severe. I repeatedly begged to be taken to Sherman, sick hardly able to sit up, surrounded man. Now then I was in Choctaw Bottoms Surrounded by a band of thieves. After keeping me thirty-six hours, my sickness growing worse all the time, and I begging them to take me Sherman, I finally agreed to accept their offer and obtain my release. I agreed to give them my mule, saddle and bridle, a $20 gold piece which I had in my pocket, and executed my note to \"Doc\" Wilson<\/sa> with my father's name for security for $2,000 in gold payable on demand and to leave the country forever.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Having no pen and ink Wilson<\/sa> made a pen of a toothpick and ink of gunpowder and water mixing it in my brother's hand. (He came with me when arrested) Now after being arrested I thought to try the civil law on these scoundrels, and to prevent me from doing so they have ever since tried to kill me. One day about twelve after this occurred, I was in Pilot Grove and met Jim Maddox<\/sa>, a friend of Peacock's<\/sa>, and I told him that if he desired to fight me I would loan him a pistol, but the coward said he did not want to hurt me and proposed taking a drink, saying he was sorry he had done what he did. After drinking with him I told him I wanted to be let alone and he said all right. However he went out of the grocery store, borrowed a pistol from a friend, slipped up behind me while I was making a contract with a Negro to do some work, and shot me in the face. He then left me on the ground for dead and bragged that he shot Bob Lee's<\/sa> brains out. I was in a very precarious condition for some time and would have perished but for the timely aid and skill of the late Dr. Pierce<\/sa>. I may add here that the excellent gentleman (soon after my recovery) was called to his gate and brutally murdered in the presence of his family by one of the clan, Hugh Hudson<\/sa>. The Doctor's<\/sa> death is attributed to his kindness in taking care of me in his house and nursing me. Still the civil authorities take no notice of these things. I have done everything I could to procure peace: I have even tried to buy it with money; and I have done every way in my power to do right and be peaceable: still I am hunted by a squad of U.S. soldiers assisted by a number of horse thieves who come to my house, throw fire in the beds, drag my children by their feet over the floor and insult my wife. Yet the U.S. troops stood by and said not a word. These \"Good Union\" men were principally deserters from the Southern Army and lay in the bush during the war, the lowest of God's creation; and these good Union men, \"truly Loil\" are biasing the judgment of the men (U.S. troops) who should protect us impartially. I further wish to say that Elijah Clark<\/sa>, a young man, was taken from his horse, which he had bought from one of these thieves, by the gang and was tied and murdered on the prairie, the U.S. troops being present. Also William Dixon<\/sa> was followed some twenty miles from his home, at Hog Eye, and taking refuge in a mill kept thirty men at bay. After flirting with death and firing many times at Dixon<\/sa>, the party told him if he would surrender they would not hurt him. When Dixon<\/sa> came to the door of the mill and threw down his pistol they riddled him with bullets, the U.S. Soldiers being present at the time. They robbed his pockets at the time, turning them inside out, and even took the dead man's spurs.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

In conclusion, I would like to say that Hugh Hudson<\/sa> received his reward of $300 from the \"Clan\" for killing Dr. Pierce<\/sa>, and has since died. Wilson<\/sa> and Maddox<\/sa> have left this country for a new field in Southern Texas. Nance<\/sa>, Baldock<\/sa>, Bud Favors<\/sa> and several others have been killed while pursuing me. Sanders<\/sa> and Peacock<\/sa> have been wounded, the latter twice. Now I will not cease to punish these men so long as I can find them. Peacock<\/sa> still hires men to kill me, and they must take the consequences.\r\nI will trust the U.S. troops will cease their interference and I will clear the country of this band of thieves. Finally I am perfectly willing to surrender myself to any impartial civil authority at any time, but will not give myself up, unarmed to thieves and robbers. I am sorry to take so much of your valuable time and space, but a great many people, even the military, have no idea of the true origin of all trouble, so I give you all the particulars.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

I remain yours, Robert Lee<\/sa>\" <\/p> \r\n \r\n
\r\nThe Lee\u2013Peacock Feud<\/sl>
\r\nDixon Blood, The Feud Continues<\/sl>
\r\nBob Lee's Own Words<\/sl>
\r\nLetter from Mrs. John Lee<\/sl>
\r\nFeud Bibliography<\/sl>"},{"dia_id":10,"dia_surname":"Lee","dia_name_short":"Letter from Mrs. John Lee","dia_name_long":"Letter to the Frontier Times<\/hi> by Mrs. John Lee","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":4,"dia_prevnext":"9|11","dia_text":"

Sent in response to an article about the Feud that had appeared in their Dec 1924 edition.<\/p>\r\n

This article appeared in Frontier Times Magazine Vol.2 No. 5, p. 15, 25 Feb 1925<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Keeping the Record Straight<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Frontier Times is pleased to publish the following letter from Mrs. John Lee<\/sa>, of Upland, California. Mrs. Lee<\/sa> is a sister-in-law of Bob Lee<\/sa>, who was mentioned in an article which appeared in Frontier Times a short time ago.<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Upland, California
\r\nDecember 3, 1924<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Editor Frontier Times:<\/p>\r\n \r\n

\"I wish to correct a statement made in Frontier Times, No. 1, 7 Vol. 2, by Mr. T. U. Taylor<\/sa>, regarding the killing of Bob Lee<\/sa>. The Federal soldiers never killed Bob Lee<\/sa> in Fannin county. He was killed three quarters of a mile from my home, on the road to his home, by Henry Boren<\/sa>, who, with a crowd of bad men, waylaid him in a thicket. Boren<\/sa> shot him in the breast with a double-barrel shotgun. As soon as Boren<\/sa> shot him off his horse he ran to Bob<\/sa> and tried to get him to talk to him, but Bob<\/sa> would not answer him. Henry<\/sa> then went home, four miles below in Hunt county, where he had lived neighbor to Bob Lee<\/sa> from boyhood, and gave a dance that night. Early the next morning, after the dancers had all gone home, Henry Boren<\/sa> was shot down by his nephew, Bill Boren<\/sa>, at the corner of his own house. Bill Boren<\/sa> and Bob Lee<\/sa> had fought as comrades for four years in the Confederate army, and stuck together to the last. I do not know what became of, Bill Boren<\/sa>, he was a fine man and well thought of.<\/p>\r\n\r\n \r\n

Robbery was the commencement of Bob Lee<\/sa>'s troubles. The Boren<\/sa> bunch of robbers came to Bob Lee<\/sa>'s house one night and took his brace of fine ivory-mounted pistols and pretended to arrest him. They took him to a big creek bottom southeast of Sherman, and told him if he would give them $2,000 and leave the country they would turn him loose. The federal soldiers were stationed at Sherman at the time, and these fellows pretended that they had orders from the federals. But this was later proved false. Bob<\/sa> sent word to father that he was held prisoner by certain men and that they intended to kill him if he did not procure the ransom money. His father and brothers tried to raise the money, but could not do so, and they went to the thicket and told the kidnapers that they believed if Bob<\/sa> was free he could get the money from his friends. They made a pen out of goose quill, and my husband, John Lee<\/sa>, made some ink out of powder and the kidnapers wrote a note for the amount and forced Bob Lee<\/sa>, his father<\/sa> and brothers<\/sa> to sign it. Then they told Bob<\/sa> to get the money and have it at a certain place and they would give him back the note. Later the affair was taken into the courts, but owing to the union sympathy that existed for the robbers they were acquitted. One day at Pilot Grove some of these fellows shot Bob Lee<\/sa> from behind, the ball entering near his left ear, and ranging toward the roof of his mouth. He was taken to a physicians house, where he was tenderly cared for, and one night the assassins called the physician to the door, and shot him down. I have forgotten this physician's name.<\/p>\r\n\r\n \r\n

I am now nearly 83 years old, and have forgotten many names. Bob Lee<\/sa>'s father and all his brothers are dead.\" <\/p>\r\n \r\n
\r\nThe Lee\u2013Peacock Feud<\/sl>
\r\nDixon Blood, The Feud Continues<\/sl>
\r\nBob Lee's Own Words<\/sl>
\r\nLetter from Mrs. John Lee<\/sl>
\r\nFeud Bibliography<\/sl>

\r\nDan'l & Bob Lee Family Cemetery<\/sl>"},{"dia_id":7,"dia_surname":"Lee & Peacock","dia_name_short":"The Lee & Peacock Feud","dia_name_long":"The Lee & Peacock Feud","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":1,"dia_prevnext":"0|8","dia_text":"

A feud by it's very nature has two sides. The Lee<\/sa>-Peacock<\/sa> Feud is no different. It is difficult to present the story without displaying some kind of apparent bias. Although the Feud occurred after <\/sa>the Civil War, the sides were basically divided along Confederate (Lee<\/sa>) and Union (Peacock<\/sa>) lines.<\/p>\r\n

Denise Maddox has an excellent website<\/al> devoted to the Lee<\/sa>-Peacock<\/sa> Feud. Because her research focus has been on the Boren<\/sa> & Maddox <\/sa>families, much of her information has come to her from the Peacock<\/sa> (Union) perspective. It is clear that she has tried to offer a balanced view. Another good summary can be found at Legends of America.<\/al><\/p>\r\n

We, too, have tried to offer a balanced perspective but we appear to have strayed closer to the Lee<\/sa> (Confederate) view of the issues. All sites have some overlap with the others but, by reading all of them, you should come away with a better understanding of the times. See the bibliography for further reading.<\/p>\r\n

The article below was written by W. W. Sherrell<\/sa> and first appeared in The History of Leonard, Texas<\/sa> compiled and copyrighted by the Leonard Preservation League, pps 14-15. It is reprinted here with permission.<\/sa><\/p>\r\n

The portrait of Bob Lee<\/sa> used for illustration below was done by Marilyn Todd-Daniels<\/sa> of Whitewright. She has done an entire series on the Four Corners Region of North Texas. Please visit her Woodsong Institute of Art<\/al> website for more examples of her work.<\/sa><\/p>\r\n

The Lee-Peacock Feud<\/h3>\r\n

In the southwestern part of Fannin County, in the northwestern part of Hunt, in the southeastern part of Grayson and the northeastern part of Collin counties, there was an area covered by thickets of various names. These thickets were known as Mustang Thicket, Black Jack Thicket, Wildcat Thicket, Jernigan Thicket and some times as the Big Thicket. As late as 1877 there was a dense thicket about seven miles long and a maximum width of four miles south of the present town of Leonard, into which few people had penetrated and through which only one man had ever gone. During the Civil War these thickets were the rendezvous of army deserters, slackers, and fugitives.<\/p>\r\n

In the northern part of one of these thickets whose southern boundary was the Fannin-Hunt county line, Daniel W. Lee<\/sa> patented a track of land and there built his home and reared his family.<\/p>\r\n

\"PaintingAt the beginning of the Civil War his son, Bob Lee<\/sa>, joined the Confederate Army, and served in Tennessee and Louisiana. Bob Lee<\/sa> was \"tall, dark, and handsome.\" He generally wore a black suit, a black felt hat with the brim turned up and a black plume in it. He held the rank of captain in the Confederate Army. At the end of the war, Captain Bob Lee<\/sa> returned home with better clothes and a better horse and saddle than most Confederate soldiers and some gold coins. <\/p>\r\n

The Union League, an organization led by the Freedmen's Bureau, carpet- baggers and scalawags, with Federal support, had its North Texas headquarters at Pilot Grove, about seven miles from the home of the Lee <\/sa>families. The leader of the Union League was Lewis Peacock<\/sa>, whose home was south of Pilot Grove on the Fannin-Grayson County line. He had arrived in Texas in 1856.<\/p>\r\n

It was not long until the news of Bob Lee<\/sa>'s return was known everywhere in the Red River Valley. The Confederate veterans were happy about it, for now they felt they had a leader. To Peacock<\/sa>, Captain Bob Lee<\/sa>, the cavalryman, with his good clothes, his plumed hat and gold coins, was too big for the \"Corners\" and would have to go.<\/p>\r\n

Peacock<\/sa> and other members of the Union League conceived the idea of extorting money from Bob Lee<\/sa>. They came to his house one night and arrested him and started to Sherman with him, but stopped in Choctaw Creek bottoms. They took Lee<\/sa>'s watch and $200 in gold and he and his father, Daniel W. Lee<\/sa>, were to sign a note for $2,000. Bob Lee<\/sa> was released. The Lees<\/sa> refused to pay the note. Suit was brought in Bonham and the Lees<\/sa> won the case.<\/p>\r\n

The robbery in Choctaw Creek bottoms started the Lee<\/sa>-Peacock<\/sa> War. During the latter part of 1867, all of 1868, and until June, 1869, the war raged. All told something like 50 men would be killed. By the summer of 1868 the war had gotten so hot that the Union League called for help from the Federal Government. On August 27, 1868, General J. J. Reynolds<\/sa> issued a notice of a reward of $1,000 cash to be paid for the delivery of Bob Lee<\/sa> to the Post Commander at Austin, or Marshall, Texas.<\/p>\r\n

Bob Lee<\/sa> did what many others had already done: he built a hide-out in the brush, In late February, 1867, Bob Lee<\/sa> was in Pilot Grove. In a local store he ran across Jim Maddox<\/sa>, a Union man suspected of being in the party that had kidnapped Lee<\/sa>. Bob Lee<\/sa> offered Maddox<\/sa> a gun so they could fight. Maddox<\/sa> declined Lee<\/sa>'s offer, Later in the day Lee<\/sa> was standing on the street and Maddox<\/sa> slipped up behind him and shot him the the back of the head. Lee<\/sa> was knocked unconscious. He was taken to Dr. William H. Pierce<\/sa>, who treated him in his home until he was able to go home. On February 24, 1867, Dr. Pierce<\/sa> was called to his door and shot to death by Hugh Hudson<\/sa>, a known Peacock<\/sa> man.<\/p>\r\n

Hugh Hudson<\/sa>, according to a theory by Dr. W. C. Holmes<\/sa>, who had taken over Dr. Pierce<\/sa>'s practice, was killed at Saltillo, a teamster's stop on the road to Jefferson. Dr. Holmes<\/sa> was called on to identify a man said to be Hudson<\/sa>. The description met that of Hudson<\/sa>.<\/p>\r\n

One day early in the spring of 1868 Elijah Clark<\/sa>, a Peacock<\/sa> man, called on Hester Anne Dixon<\/sa> to invite her to go with him to a dance. She refused him. In his frustration and disappointment, he ran out of the house without his gun which he had left on a table. He met Hester Anne<\/sa>'s brother, 16-year-old Billy Dixon<\/al>, a Lee<\/sa> man, Elijah<\/sa> grabbed Billy<\/sa>'s gun and shot at him, Billy<\/sa> ran in the house, grabbed Elijah<\/sa>'s gun and ran out of the house and shot Elijah<\/sa> off his horse, dead. <\/p>\r\n

In less than a month, Billy Dixon<\/sa> met death on the Jefferson Road. He was on the way to Jefferson with a load of cotton when about 20 miles from home the wagon broke down. His cousin, Charlie Dixon<\/sa>, was with him. They were repairing the wagon when suddenly a dozen men appeared and surrounded them. They told Billy<\/sa> to march ten paces with hands up, Five paces, six, seven; a single bullet split the air and Billy<\/sa> slumped in his tracks.<\/p>\r\n

The Lee<\/sa> crowd was not inactive during this time. At one point two of Peacock<\/sa>'s men forced the Lee<\/sa> women to feed them. The men were only able to get a few hundred yards into the brush before their saddles were emptied by shotgun blasts. <\/p>\r\n

In mid-May, at the Nance<\/sa> farm there was a meeting in which three men were killed, Peacock<\/sa> and some of his men were holding a meeting at the Nance<\/sa> farm, Messengers had reported the meeting to Bob Lee<\/sa>, in Wildcat Thicket. Lee<\/sa> and a posse of his men made a raid on the horse lot, where the meeting was being held. In the fight that ensued three Peacock<\/sa> men, Dow Nance<\/sa>, John Baldock<\/sa> and Dan Sanders<\/sa>, were killed. There were no Lee<\/sa> casualties. <\/p>\r\n

The $1,000 reward for Bob Lee<\/sa>, dead or alive, was attracting bounty hunters to \"The Corners.\" Three Kansas \"Red Legs,\" dressed as citizens, laid plans to capture or kill Bob Lee<\/sa> for the reward. It was in the early spring of 1869. The Lees<\/sa> had reason to suspect the three Red Legs were ready to make their move and were ready for them. <\/p>\r\n

When daylight came the scene appeared serene. In the kitchen of Bob Lee<\/sa>'s home Dorinda Pierce<\/sa> and Melinda Lee<\/sa> were chatting about the day ahead at the Lee<\/sa> School where Dorinda<\/sa> taught, Suddenly the serenity was shattered by the sound of shots. They rushed down the read leading to Pilot Grove and found three dead men who were strangers. The bodies of the three \"Red Legs\" laid all day where they had fallen. Peacock<\/sa>'s men were afraid to come and get the bodies for burial. Later the two women buried them.<\/p>\r\n

Lewis Peacock<\/sa> planned retaliation and revenge. He asked for, and obtained, more troops. The troops, under Captain Charles Campbell<\/sa>, had orders to settle the feuding in Northeast Texas by capturing the leader of the Southern sympathizers.<\/p>\r\n

Lee<\/sa>'s loyalty ring was broken by a neighbor and erstwhile friend, Henry Boren<\/sa>. The Lees<\/sa> and Borens<\/sa> had come to Texas together and the families had been friendly, yet Henry<\/sa> was to betray the secret trails to Lee<\/sa>'s hide-out in Wildcat Thicket. <\/p>\r\n

On the morning of May 24, 1869, Bob Lee<\/sa>, dressed in his black suit, boots and black hat with plume, and with all his side arms, announced that he was riding to a neighbor's home not more than three miles away. If his secret plan was to ride south to Mexico, he had waited too long. <\/p>\r\n

His journey was short. Less than half a mile from his home and before he reached the outside, he was caught by the flash of Federal musket fire from the guns of Captain Campbell<\/sa>'s 6th Infantry. Between eight and fifteen shots were\r\nfired and Bob Lee<\/sa> slid from his saddle without a word.<\/p>\r\n

As an aftermath to Lee<\/sa>'s death, Bill Boren<\/sa>, a nephew of Henry<\/sa>'s, rode up to his uncle's house the next morning, called to his uncle to come out. Henry<\/sa> came out and was instantly killed by his nephew:, who silently turned and rode away, Death to a Traitor was evidently the opinion of some of the Borens<\/sa>.<\/p>\r\n

After the death of Bob Lee<\/sa> in June 1869, his followers scattered to other parts of the state and the Peacock<\/sa> gang broke up, but a few of them stayed together, Peacock<\/sa> was the ring leader of the force. <\/p>\r\n

Dick Johnson<\/sa>, a Bob Lee<\/sa> lieutenant, had gone out to West Texas to keep out of trouble. Peacock<\/sa> and his gang had killed his three half-brothers, Simp Dixon<\/sa>, Bob Dixon<\/sa> and Charlie Dixon<\/sa>. Charlie<\/sa> was killed at Black Jack Grove, now called Cumby. Charlle<\/sa> and his father had started the lumber mills near Winnsboro for lumber; Peacock<\/sa> and his gang followed them to Black Jack Grove and shot Charlie<\/sa> to death. Dr. Dixon<\/sa> brought the body of his son home in an ox wagon and buried him. Dr. Dixon<\/sa> soon died and left three daughters. The Peacock<\/sa> gang sent them word that they were going to burn them out of house and home and they would\r\nnot have a rail left on their farm. The girls wrote to Dick Johnson<\/sa> out in West Texas to come home and protect them. He came in a hurry and the news soon reached Pilot Grove that Dick Johnson<\/sa> was back home.<\/p>\r\n

When Peacock<\/sa> heard the news he was in the drug store of Dr. Kuyrkendall<\/sa> in Pilot Grove. He remarked, \"Some morning when Dick<\/sa> gets up and comes to the door to get wood to, make a fire, I will be laying for him and will get him. The remark was carried to Dick Johnson<\/sa> without delay and this remark cost Peacock<\/sa> his life.<\/p>\r\n

Joe Parker<\/sa> was another of the Lee<\/sa> crowd who was still in the country, and he and Dick Johnson<\/sa> were both anxious to have the honor of slaying Peacock<\/sa>. About the first of July 1871, one of them climbed a lone elm tree on the prairie in sight of Peacock<\/sa>'s home and hid himself in the thick foliage; one writer claims that this watchman was Dick Johnson<\/sa>, while others claim it was Joe Parker<\/sa>. It is unimportant as to which of these was on watch in the elm tree. The two were working in unison and with the same object. Peacock<\/sa> was seen to approach his home and Johnson<\/sa> and Parker<\/sa> that night made preparations to kill him the next morning. They put Peacock<\/sa> s threat into action and waited until early next morning when Peacock<\/sa> came to the door to get wood to make a fire. He was slain in his own yard.<\/p>\r\n

Dick Johnson<\/sa> was never arrested, and he and his wife moved to Missouri,\r\nwhere they lived for many years. He was seen in Fannin County in 1920 and was last heard of in Red River County, Texas. <\/p>\r\n

W. W. Sherrell<\/sa> <\/p>\r\n
\r\nThe Lee-Peacock Feud<\/sl>
\r\nDixon Blood, The Feud Continues<\/sl>
\r\nBob Lee's Own Words<\/sl>
\r\nLetter from Mrs. John Lee<\/sl>
\r\nFeud Bibliography<\/sl>

\r\nDan'l & Bob Lee Family Cemetery<\/sl>"},{"dia_id":8,"dia_surname":"Lee & Peacock","dia_name_short":"Dixon Blood, the feud continued","dia_name_long":"The Lee & Peacock Feud ...continued","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":2,"dia_prevnext":"7|9","dia_text":"

The article below was also written by William Sherrell<\/sa> and first appeared in The History of Leonard, Texas<\/sa> compiled and copyrighted by the Leonard Preservation League, pg. 17. It is reprinted here with permission.<\/sa><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dixon Blood<\/h3> \r\n\r\n

If a young man could have had his druthers in the generation following the Civil War it might have been to have had no Dixon<\/sa> or Boren<\/sa> blood in his veins. They were neighbors, friends and kin at first but later they were \"cussing kin.\" Better said, \"shooting kin. Another kinsman and neighbor was Daniel W. Lee<\/sa>. They were all thick as molasses, according to legend. Richard<\/sa> and Henry Boren<\/sa> lived in the Lee<\/sa> household. Henry<\/sa> was the leader of the Lee<\/sa> Gang, a band of young hellions whose pastime and livelihood was derived by rowdy civil disobedience. Like robbing travelers and hijacking freight wagons along the Jefferson Road; after the war murdering freedmen and patriotic American citizens, (locally known as Unionists): stealing cattle and horses, only the latter was considered a serious crime at the time. The happy family, as far as the Lees<\/sa> and Borens<\/sa> were concerned, began to fare badly when the families took opposite sides as the war clouds began to grow. Lees<\/sa>, though they had no slaves, espoused the rebel cause. The Borens<\/sa> avidly took the Union cause.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The inevitable was not long in coming. In a bare knuckle and skull contest Henry<\/sa> came out winner over one of the Lee<\/sa> boys, by a large majority, something no prideful Lee<\/sa> could endure, Dan<\/sa> took his sons part, helped by some of his other numerous sons, stooges and his trusty blacksnake whip, an item which, along with, a double\u00e2\u20ac\u201cbarreled 10\u00e2\u20ac\u201cgauge shotgun, completed Dan<\/sa> 's everyday dress. The whip was to teach the freedmen and white trash proper respect. The shotgun was for more worthy opponents. Dan<\/sa> was not at all averse to killing for lesser cause and why he did not kill Henry<\/sa> is left to conjecture, kinship perhaps, Dan<\/sa> \"snaked\" a goodly portion of hide off Henry<\/sa>'s backside and turned him loose. Henry Boren<\/sa> was a bit of a prideful man himself. He promised Dan<\/sa>, his sons and the aforementioned stooges that he would extract a bucket full of bright red Lee blood<\/sa> for every inch of hide taken.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The story above was related to me many years ago by my cousin, W. R. Watson<\/sa>, and foster cousin Mike Scolam<\/sa>, and explains why Henry<\/sa> betrayed his cousin, Robert Lee<\/sa>, to the military for a promised portion of the reward and, of course \u00e2\u20ac\u201c\u00e2\u20ac\u201c revenge.<\/p>\r\n \r\n

Some of the Dixons<\/sa> settled in Limestone and Freestone counties when they came to Texas. Three others settled along the Jefferson Road. Jack <\/sa> (sometimes known as John<\/sa> ) started a freight wagon business at the Mounds, 2 miles south of Pilot Grove. His contribution to infamy was Billy<\/sa> and Simp<\/sa>, the latter a sometimes member of the Quantrill<\/sa> gang. Their careers would have shown brightly, except that they were overshadowed by Bob Lee<\/sa>, whom they idolized and were fiercely loyal to. <\/p>\r\n\r\n

The Colonel<\/sa> (sometimes called the General) settled near Blue Ridge. He had a family of 4 girls and two boys. The Colonel<\/sa> was said by the family to have committed suicide, Of course, there were rumors that it was a family affair, but no investigation was ever made.<\/p>\r\n \r\n

Doctor Dixon<\/sa> settled in Black Jack Thicket, near present day Sulphur Springs. His contribution was Charley<\/sa>, who disappeared, or at least no trace of his fate can be found today.<\/p>\r\n \r\n

The Dixon<\/sa> brother who settled in Limestone County contributed Tom<\/sa>, Bud<\/sa> and another whose name I cannot now remember. These worthies were the prime movers in an episode, dimly recorded in history as \"The Freedman's Revolt,\" This was a name contrived to indicate that the ex\u00e2\u20ac\u201cslaves had revolted against their former masters, and used to cover up a blood binge in which blacks were murdered, man, woman and child. This largely unrecorded reign of terror began to wind down when some civic minded citizens discovered Bud<\/sa> and Tom<\/sa> in jail for some other matter of civil disobedience. Finding the two boys in jail unarmed resulted in a tremendous upsurge in public spirit. A mob rushed the jail, where they also found Joe Hardin<\/sa>, Wes'<\/sa> brother. They grabbed him too, mostly because his name was Hardin<\/sa> and strung him up with Bud<\/sa> and Tom<\/sa>. Simp<\/sa> had been terminated at the Springfield gin three years earlier by a possee. The other unnamed Dixon<\/sa> disappeared, yet we must always remember, it was a time when justice was often a personal thing. <\/p>\r\n\r\n

Contrary to legend there is not one bit of evidence that Henry<\/sa> actually shot Bob Lee<\/sa>, even though he was in the posse. All the Borens<\/sa> had not espoused the Union cause, Some of the young bloods had admired and ridden with Bob Lee<\/sa>. Bill Boren<\/sa> had ridden with Quantrill<\/sa> during his forays into Texas. News of his uncle's shooting of Bob<\/sa> was more than Bill<\/sa> could take. Early the next morning he went to his uncle's house and called him to the door, engaged him in a cussfest, drew his gun and shot him down in cold blood. <\/p>\r\n\r\n

The shooting of Bob Lee<\/sa> is amply covered in dozens of yarns, legends and some fairly accurate history. However, very little is known of how it blew the Boren<\/sa> family apart. Bill<\/sa> 's killing of Henry<\/sa> ignited a Boren<\/sa>\u00e2\u20ac\u201cBoren<\/sa> feud that wiped out all the male members of one family and caused the death of many others. It was an inter\u00e2\u20ac\u201cfamily affair. The warring families apparently didn't want any interference of law officers, simply went to hoshwacking each other with gusto. Descendants today are probably not aware that such a feud ever existed.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The killing of Henry<\/sa> by his nephew was never officially authenticated, except I have a letter<\/al> in which Bill<\/sa> tells how he baited his uncle into a gun fight and shot him down. It is known that Bill<\/sa> disappeared a few years later. It is not generally known that Bill<\/sa> was baited back and killed by Henry<\/sa>'s son. Forgotten is that three Borens<\/sa> were ambushed nearby and buried in a wagon bed in the Dulaney<\/sa> Graveyard.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

W. W. Sherrell<\/sa> <\/p>\r\n\r\n
\r\nThe Lee-Peacock Feud<\/sl>
\r\nDixon Blood, The Feud Continues<\/sl>
\r\nBob Lee's Own Words<\/l>
\r\nLetter from Mrs. John Lee<\/sl>
\r\nFeud Bibliography<\/sl>

\r\nDan'l & Bob Lee Family Cemetery<\/sl>"},{"dia_id":11,"dia_surname":"Lee & Peacock","dia_name_short":"The Lee & Peacock Feud: A Bibliography","dia_name_long":"The Lee & Peacock Feud: A Bibliography","dia_sub_fk":1,"sub_fullname":"GenWeb, TXFannin ","dia_page":5,"dia_prevnext":"10|0","dia_text":"

    \r\n
  1. Handbook of Texas Online<\/al><\/sa>:\r\n