Poston
"I dedicate this book to my children and grandchildren."
"Backward, turn backward,
O time in your flight."
As I sit musing in my comfortable chair by the fireside, memory carries me again to my childhood, brought to mind by a book which has just been read to me, Rolling Years, the scene of which was laid in Pennsylvania near Pittsburgh, my old home. I keep thinking of the lines, "Backward, turn backward, O time in your flight; Make me a child again Just for Tonight."
I think my grandparents must have passed away early in life since I cannot remember either. However, my mother told me about her grandfather, Alexander Murdoch, being a typical Scotchman. He came to this country in 1755 and settled in Pennsylvania. He was killed by the falling of a bee tree in the presence of his daughter, Elizabeth, one day while taking a supply of honey.
Recently we found in our State Library a book called, "Robert the Bruce," by Herbert Maxwell, giving the origin of the Murdoch family and showing the coat of arms.
"From the eastern shore of lonely Lock Dee - a sheet of water separated from Loch Trool by a mountainous pass - rises a hill called Cragencallie - the old woman's crag. Here, in a solitary cabin, dwelt a widow, the mother of three sons each by a different husband, and named Murdoch, MacKie and MacLur (sic). It was on this hill that the king of Scotland, when he caused his followers to separate, had told them to reassemble, and hither he came along after the loss of his foster brother.
He asked the old widow for food, of which he stood in sore need. She bade him come in, for that all wayfarers were welcomed for the sake of one.
"And prithee who may that one be?" asked the King.
"I'll tell thee that, quoth the good wife: it is none other than King Robert the Bruce, rightful lord of this land. His fees are pressing him hard now, but the day is at hand when he shall come into his own."
Upon this, the King made himself known, was welcomed into the house, and set down to a good meal. While he was discussing the homely fare, the three sons returned. Their mother made them do obeisance straightway.
"The King, so it is said, desired to test their prowess with the bow. The oldest, Murdoch, let fly at two ravens perched on a crag, and transfixed both wit the same arrow. MacKie then shot another raven, flying overhead, but MacLurg (sic) missed his mark. When the widow's words came to be fulfilled by the King coming to his own, he asked her how he could reward her for her timely succor.
"Just give me," said she, "the wee bit hassock of land atween Pulnoro and Pankiln."
Her request was granted and the bit hassock being of considerable extent, about five miles long and three broad, was divided between the three sons. Hence the original of the families of McKie of Larg; Murdoch of Cumlodon and MacLurg of Kirouchtrie."
Uncle Alex Murdoch, always interested in our family history macde a trip to Europe to find out more about it. They told him the King favored Murdoch, making him a member of his household. The king continued being surrounded by his enemies. One day while walking on the ramparts of his castle he noticed two ravens pierced by a single arrow. The king said, "No one but a Murdoch could do that," and he knew it was a warning of danger, the enemy lay in ambush near. Realizing Murdoch had saved his life he knighted him for his loyalty.
My mother's early days were spent at Morganza, Pennsylvania, near Cannonsburg, on a farm owned by her father. She was one of four sisters. While a girl, Mother made many lovely quilts. She spun and wove the linen for one which is now in my possession, from the flax grown on the farm at Morganza. The design of different fruits was appliquéd and stuffed with cotton. The calico still retains its original color. My sister, Mrs. Cook, being the eldest, fell heir to this treasure. While visiting her in Florida, I saw this old quilt of Mother's. Yellowed with age, it had been stored in an old pillow case for preservation. She gave it to me. It has since been exhibited at several clubs and historical societies. Since it was made for an old-fashioned two decker feather bed, it was very large and unwieldy, so we cut it in half and now have two nice quilts for the twin beds. They are two of my dearest treasures
My father, Joseph Breneman Musser, was a lawyer, practicing in Harrisburg. At the time of his marriage to my mother, he was a widower with two lovely daughters, Emma and Dorcas, of whom my mother was very proud. In fact, she was so proud of them that she made over her laces and lovely silks for them. When we, her own daughters were growing up, there were no silks and laces left.
My mother and father went to housekeeping in Harrisburg, later moving to Washington, Pennsylvania, where resided Ma's brother, Uncle Alex Murdoch. He was an eminent lawyer, at the head of the bar for years without ever taking a criminal case.
Not long after moving to Washington, Mr. Musser's health failed. At that time the disease now known as infantile paralysis was unfamiliar to doctors and no cure was known. He remained an invalid to the time of his death, which occurred some 15 years later.
Because of Pa's illness, Ma was obliged to become the bread winner, so she established a private school for girls. It was during this time that tragedy came into our home.
Emma's, Pa's second daughter, was terribly burned when her clothing caught fire from an open fireplace. The burns were of a disfiguring nature and Emma was very sensitive. She would never appear in public without a heavy veil. She was 14 at the time of the accident. One day, a famous surgeon from Philadelphia came to the home of Ma's cousin a doctor. In the course of conversation, the doctor related Emma's case to the surgeon. He immediately became very interested and expressed a desire to see her. He conferred with the family and obtained permission to perform an operation, Emma willingly consenting. In those days the doctors knew nothing about the grafting of skin. They made an incision, turning over Emma's skin. The surgeon used 30 silver pins to hold it in place. A large frame was made to fit over her, preventing clothing from touching her. She had to lie in one position under the frame for almost a month, before the pins could be removed. It was a marvelous success. The report went down in medical journals, as being the most successful operation of its kind on record. Emma always wore a velvet ribbon about her throat afterward and very few scars were discernible.
My earliest recollections of childhood are on an incident when as a lanky, long-legged, cross-eyed tom boy, I ran a rusty nail in my foot. I was obliged to go on crutches. It was so much fun and I became so adept at using them, that I would run races with other children. Finally, after months of using them, when no longer needed, Ma hid the crutches, fearing I might become crippled for life should I continue their use.
One of the stories my mother told me as a child concerned Mathew Henderson, her grandfather, who in "Chambers' Encyclopedia," is called next to John Knox, Scotland's greatest reformer.
He was the first Seceder minister west of the Allegheny Mountains. He settled in Washington County, Pennsylvania, and established his church. The one-hundredth anniversary of this church was held in Cannonsburg while I was teaching there. The celebration lasted two days. He was an eccentric old gentleman, with a great sense of humor. A story is told of one of his church services. Two young girls with new calico dresses would rise, go out and then return. Each time spreading their gowns proudly. Finally, the minister said, "Sit doon, lassies, sit doon. We've all seen your new goons." Needless to say they sat down.
One day, while Reverend Henderson was walking along the road, he met two young men who were the worse for drink. They were in a quarrelsome mood and wished to fight. Finally the minister, removing his stove-pipe hat and laying it with his cane on a bank said, "Reverend Henderson, you lie there. Now, Mathew, you pitch in." He rolled his sleeves, and gave both boys a complete trouncing.
It may have Ma inherited her courage and sense of humor from her grandfather Henderson.
When we moved from Washington to Cannonsburg we attended the UP Church which was about one-half mile from town. My mother was deeply religious and believed in taking her whole flock to Sabbath School and Church. Sabbath School began at 9:30, this followed by morning church worship. After the sermon we would eat our lunch, which we took with us during the summer. We sat on the green hillside during pleasant weather and visited together. Then about 1:30 we would return to church for another sermon.
As the church did not believe in instrumental music, but rather congregational singing, the music left much to be desired. The hymn book was called the Psalter and was made up exclusively of the Psalms which were lined out and chanted first by a precentor (sic). Sometimes it took many a twist of the tongue on the last word to get the rhythm, each vowel being long drawn out. I remember especially one line, "Praise the Lord all ye nations." (na-she-yons)
I remember how embarrassing it was for anyone to take a nap in church. At one time a precentor passed up and down the aisle and any head seen to nod was touching upon the nose with a long stick, resembling a fishing rod.
While no one ever laughed or whispered in church, nevertheless to this day I chuckle when recalling amusing incidents: especially the Sabbath Elder McCoy's wig blew off as he entered the door by the pulpit just as the morning service was about to begin. The wind blew it, with him following, right across the front of the church and each time he made a grab for it the wind took it a little farther on, until he disappeared with it out the door on the other side of the church.
Nor will I soon forget a "break" a visiting minister made on one occasion. It was a hot Sabbath morning and he read from the Scripture, he kept fanning himself vigorously and he said, "the Lord spoke unto Moses, saying Shoo-Fly." The pulpit shaking as his hand descended upon the offending insect.
The catechism always seemed to stand out as the most important thing for children. The little catechism consisted of simple questions for the younger children. I was very young when I learned my first catechism and I did not know the meaning of the larger words. Having learned it, however, it all comes back to me with its true meaning.
Since we had no evening Service, the neighbors took this opportunity for gathering in the various homes to drill the children. They always lined up in the same order each night. I remember on one occasion when they were ready, the first little boy was absent and the boy who was second in line became the first for that night. He was asked, "Who made you? And he said, "The boy which God made isn't here tonight but I was made from the dust of the earth."
No hand was lifted in unnecessary work on the Sabbath. Everything possible, such as baking, mending, etc. was done on Saturday. With all the strictness of Ma's upbringing she did not want to appear rigid with her children. She always wanted us to have a good time if at all possible. Once a little girl came to visit us who wanted me to take a walk on Sunday afternoon. Since we never took pleasure walks on the Sabbath, I was a little surprised when Ma said, "Yes, you can take a walk with her but take it in the Cemetery."
We observed close communion - only members in good standing being allowed to partake. It was celebrated twice a year and was the most important event in the life of the church.
On Saturday before Communion, the Communicants all went to the church to pray and to receive their tokens. Not a word was spoken as the members passed by the grave Elders. To us children they seemed like the very gate keepers of heaven - handing out tickets of admission. The tables, covered with white muslin were long benches down the center aisle and across the front, with lower benches on each side for the communicants. A precentor (sic) would stand at the end of each table to receive the token. Anyone not having a token was barred from communion.
One of the rules of the church at that time was one could not become a member without first learning the confession of faith or the larger catechism. Another of the UP beliefs was predestination - once in grace, always in grace.
Years later, I was back in Cannonsburg upon a visit and found a great change Since so many wished organ music it had been decided to allow each Presbytery to vote upon the question. Many voted for music and the organ took its place in the church. They were much more liberal in their views than when I was a child.
Looking back, I can see that the church had very narrow views, although we did not think so at the time. For instance, I remember a young UP theological student who had just finished his course. He had been invited to preach at the Presbyterian Church in the absence of the pastor. According to custom, the organist played the prelude. The pompous young minister arose and asked them to praise God with the lips only. I can still remember the furor this created. On the way home, it was the main topic of discussion. One member said, "Even David played the harp for singing." Another spoke up and said, "But David had many failings."
I was 5 or 6 when we moved to Cannonsburg, and shall never forget my first day in school. On Friday before entering, the Superintendent had promised all the pupils who failed to have their primer lessons, a whipping on Monday. Without explaining I took a whipping with the others. Feeling the injustice of it, I vowed, "I would remind him of it some day." But not until after I had received my professional certificate, this same man, Billy Fee, giving me my examination, did I venture to remind him of the injustice.
Our home in Cannonsburg was a large house near the college. It was purchased with a view toward Ma keeping college students as roomers. We had several Southern boys who could do nothing for themselves. They always set their shoes outside their doors at night to be polished by Old Johnny Land who came every morning to bring water to their rooms. My mother, being a great temperance woman, did not like their attitude toward a demijohn which they left on their table. She told them to keep it out of sight, or the contents would find its way into her vinegar barrel. They obeyed for some time, but one morning the demi-john (sic) was upon the table, a glass beside it. Being a woman of few words, she quietly took the demijohn and preceded to make good her words. The boys took the news good naturedly, but had received their lesson.
At the time the Civil War broke out, the boys were given notice to leave. They went home to fight in the Confederate Army. Many of them were killed, none of them returned to school.
At this time, my brother Alex was a student in college. Coming home form school one day, he announced he had enlisted and was leaving with the boys for the war. Ma, without a word, put on her sun-bonnet and went to Capt. McDaniel's office, who was then recruiting the company. She explained Alex was not fit to go to war because of a sunstroke he had received when younger. She said, "He can't tell a man from a pump." Alex' name was dropped from the list. When Alex heard it, he was as angry a boy as you ever saw. He said, "Now, you've done it, Mother. I did want to go in Capt. McDaniel's Company with our own boys. Now, I'm leaving this afternoon for Wheeling, West Virginia to enlist where I am not known." My mother, not wishing him to go with strangers, had to return to Capt. McDaniel and ask for his reinstatement. He was away for 3 years and then reenlisted for three months.
Alex was wounded seriously in the thigh in the battle of the Wilderness. He lay in a hospital for some time and then came home on furlough. Coming home, he was compelled to ride from Pittsburgh on horseback through the rain for 18 miles.
At this time we purchased milk from an old maid who lived across the way. She would not sell milk on Sunday, so we had to buy enough on Saturday to last until Monday. When Alex came home on a Sunday evening, we went for milk for Alex' supper. The old maid said, "If you come in the morning you can get it."
Her folks were very stingy and not very neighborly. One day, much to our surprise, they sent us over a bowl of Cider apple butter - which we enjoyed very much. However, the next week a little girl that lived with them came over to play. She said, "What do you think? We found a gallon jar of apple butter the other day and there was a mouse in it!"
About this time, Dixon and Dunbar started a normal school in the old Jefferson College building, which had been closed since the college was moved to Washington, the county seat.
There were about 50 or 60 pupils enrolled, taking a three years' course to fit them for teaching. An examination was held at the end of the course. At the time I graduated 49 took the examination which lasted two days until midnight the second night. As there were no electric lights at that time, each student brought his own lamp. I was the 49th to be examined. As it was so late at night, the few last ones were given oral examinations.
During my history test, I was asked by Billy Foo, whether I could tell something about DeSoto. I answered his questions ending my remarks by saying, "In the dim light they lowered his body into the Mississippi River, which he discovered and it was at this time," (being midnight).
Some of the students laughed and whispered, "You're getting smart. You'll get something for that." But to my surprise the teacher said, "Yes, that will do," and I was dismissed from further examination. I received my professional certificate but never used it.
During the year 1876, the World's Fair was held in Philadelphia. I was teaching in the country about 5 miles away. The school was dismissed for a week that I might attend the Fair, but I contracted rheumatism and was unable to attend. It settled in the paracardium (sic) about the heart. I was forced to give up teaching. When improved, I left on a visit to my sister, Dorcas, in Wheeling. From there I went to Nelsonville and visited another sister, Mrs. cook, whose husband was the Presbyterian minister in Nelsonville. It was there I met Mr. Poston. I was introduced to him by his mother, at an ice cream social. At that time, Mr. Poston was engaged, but he proposed to me before I left Nelsonville. I told him, he had better be off with the old love before he was on with the new. We were married at Cannonsburg May 15, 1878. We went to the Musical Festival in Cincinnati on our wedding trip. Our trip home had a humorous beginning. On our way to the train, we stopped for breakfast. Carl Cable, Mr. Poston's cousin, saw us. He said, "You must hurry, the train is almost ready to go and you'll miss it." We were laden with luggage, including some early strawberries, a fine canary singer which Mr. Poston had bought for me. Carl rushed on the train, beckoning us to hurry. We hurried, and had just gotten on and the conductor came thorough as the train started and said, "This train to Kentucky." Carl dived off with me on his heels and Mr. Poston bringing up the rear. I alighted sitting down on the rails, packages scattered all about and the canary on my lap. The conductor said, "Lady, if you'd waited, we would have stopped." But I had not wanted to go to Kentucky. I then laughed until I cried, becoming hysterical.
Mr. Poston's father, a land owner, had died the year previous to our marriage. He had left a farm for each of his 7 children. Mr. Poston fell heir to a farm of 300 acres, pleasantly located in the valley along the canal. The house stood near the canal, and the railroad ran beyond it. A little farther back was the river with fields of corn, millet and clover between.
We first went to housekeeping in Nelsonville, where we lived until Eddie, our oldest son was 10 weeks old. Then we decided to locate on the farm. We moved on a canal-boat with our coal, furniture and even a setting hen on eggs. Everything was loaded on without packing. After moving, we had much company, never eating a meal alone. Friends came in everyday as the Postons were one of the oldest families and kept fine Kentucky horses.
The canal was a never failing source of interest to our visitors. They would sit for hours on the banks, waiting to see a boat go through the lock. The story was told of an Irishman who was taking his first ride on the canal boat. As they were going through the lock he was watching closely. The captain called, "Look out there!" The Irishman looked out suddenly and said, "Bo Jabors! You told me to look out and you'd better have told me to look in." Watching the boats was an interesting sight, as they were raised or lowered as the case might be, by the water in the locks.
In the Autumn following our marriage Mr. Poston raised a large bunch of hogs. As the market was low in price, he decided to sell them after they were butchered. I, having no idea of the amount there would be, asked for the pigs foot. Mr. Poston, thinking that I would balk at such a large amount, brought the pigs feet, a barrel full, but I was game. With a woman to help me we started to work. Using the Buckeye cookbook which I consulted on all occasions, we worked for more than a day getting the feet ready to pickle. Then we cooked them in a large new wash boiler and boned them. E had a six gallon jar full after they were boned. I said, "I have never had enough pickled pigs foot." Mr. Poston said, "You'll have enough before you're through with them." About two weeks later, on opening the jar, the queerest odor came forth. The feet were all spoiled. I have never cared for pickled pigs feet since that time.
While on the farm, one of the important members of our family was Von Be Lo, our dog. He was the ugliest dog I have ever seen (Mrs. Poston thought him handsome), but he was nice and had wining ways. One day, we were having a dinner party from town. Susie, our octareen cook, whose father was a red-headed Irishman and mother was black, prepared the dinner. She was one of the best girls I ever had. When Susie served the dessert course, she brought in one lone piece of pie, handed it to Mr. Poston and said, "Von Be Lo got the rest." She had cut the pie and put it on plates to cool on the table near the window. Von Be Lo licked every plate but one, which was out of reach.
Another time, Von Be Lo refused to eat. He moped and we could not find the trouble. One day he came into the room and laid his head in my lap and opened his mouth. I put my hand into his throat and pulled out a forked twig, it had lodged in his throat. He walked off, wagging his tail and appeared very grateful.
My mother liked to spend her summers with us on the farm and would go into town with my sister for the winter. She was a widow at that time, Pa having passed away a short time before. She had sold her home and come to be near her children. My sister, "Gin", was teaching in Nelsonville school, being principal. Another sister, Mrs. Johnson, also taught there.
All we Musser girls married Nelsonville boys and lived to celebrate our golden wedding anniversaries. Blanche attended a luncheon for home folks in Columbus, Ohio, a few years ago. She told me about a remark Lou Cable Jones made. She said it was the coming of the Musser girls that made Nelsonville the good town it afterwards became. I can readily understand how this could be. It had been a mining town with little attention paid to art, religion and all the good things our mother insisted upon. We girls were brought up in a college town where culture came first and great stress was laid upon the significance of the church.
When Blanche was 3 years old, Ma, blanche and I went back to our old home for a visit. Blanche was a very active child. Uncle Alex declared she would be the death of him. One day he came home panting and perspiring. He exclaimed, "Where do you think I found her? Leaning over the ditch where the men were laying the gas line! Just about to fall in." Ma laughed and said, "You worry too much about her. Don't you know the child has had the range of a 300 acre farm?"
Ma always enjoyed a good circus. When Ed was a little fellow, Ma and I decided to take him to see Barnum & Bailey. We dressed him in his white suit and started. He espied his father plowing in the field nearby and decided he wished to go to his papa. I gave him a spanking. This was the last time I ever had to spank him to get him to go to a circus. However he was determined to with his father. So Irvin put him on old Maude & Eddie, as his custom was, rode until he went to sleep and fell off. Irvin spread out an old sheepskin in a furrow and Eddie slept all the afternoon, while Ma & I went to the circus.
In the fall of _____, my mother was with my sister, Helen Johnson, in Nelsonville. A bazaar was being held in the church across the street. Ma was so anxious to go, as she wanted to buy gifts for each of us. While at the bazaar, she suffered a stroke of apoplexy and never regained consciousness and passed away. After her death, we took her back to Pa and laid her beside my father.
A young minister conducted her funeral and after the service some one said to him, "It's a pity you didn't know Mrs. Musser's worth and what a fine woman she was so that you could have told about her."
"Know her worth?" the young minister said.
I know her worth. When I came to school, a homesick boy, she took me in and mothered me through school. I think I know her worth."
After living in the country for six or seven years, we moved back to Nelsonville, where I became the 12th Mrs. Poston. Soon after Uncle Alex came to visit us, he remarked, "Do the Postons own this town? Every other sign I see has Poston on it."
Then Mr. Poston became interested in the brick business. Leavins us at Nelsonvile, he went to Veedersburg, Indiana and built a brick plant. He was there for 8 years but the family only lived there one. Emmett was a little fellow with curls but he wanted his hair cut. So one day we took him to the barber. When he returned home, Emmett looked in the mirror and exclaimed, "Why Mamma, I is a boy!"
Moving to Indiana with us came Nellie and Jim, the two Shetland ponies, given to the children by their father when we left the farm. I made the girls riding habits and it was a familiar sight to see them galloping down the road to the brick plant about a mile away. Nellie, the black pony, was a very gentle and not much larger than a large Newfoundland dog. Emmett always declared this pony swallowed his teeth, because one day while he was eating an apple Nellie took it right out of his mouth and with it disappeared two of Emmett's teeth.
Jim was the stunt pony. He liked to walk about on his hind legs looking at the sky. He never went into the water without taking a roll-thus seeming to aspire to the high and low places of the universe.
I remember one time the children went down into the country to spend the day with Ruth Gookins' (now Mrs. Ruth Cassiday of Spencer) grandmother and Jim, carrying double, took a roll in the middle of Sand Creek, thoroughly soaking them all. The grandmother was very good to the children, giving them complete changes of clothing - much to the amusement of the girls who liked to display themselves in old skirts and shawls.
While we resided in Nelsonville, Eddie and blanche would hitch Jim to the little wagon each Saturday morning and drive up to their old home to bring down the farm produce. One day after they were all ready to make the return trip Jim wanted a drink of water, so they drove him into the canal and without warning down he went. The jar loosened the shafts and the pony walked out on the other side of the canal while the wagon rolled down into the deep water leaving Eddie and Blanche up to their chins in water. The wagon was loaded with good things to eat including several chickens with their legs tied together. We heard afterwards the farmers living along the canal as far south as Haydensville, two miles away, did a lot of wondering as they salvaged articles of food strewn along the banks.
As the school house at Veedersburg had been condemned, I taught the children through the winter months. Then in the summer, the children had their first business experience. As Satan finds work for idle hands, I gave them each a dollar and told them to invest in chickens, letting them decide just what kind they wanted so they scoured the country. I had thought this would be a very simple undertaking, but some complications arose when one of them brought in turkey eggs. Blanche had a lovely flower bed and the chickens persisted in scratching there. One morning I found a half-grown chicken with its head severed lying by Blanche's flower bed. On inquiry, Blanche said, "Well I told it to keep out of my flower bed and if it didn't I'd cut its head off." As it was still warm, it found its way to the frying pan, so I had chicken, which otherwise I probably would not have had.
We moved to Crawfordsville in 1894 where the children had the advantage of good schools. Mr. Poston came on and built a plant at Crawfordsville and after all the years, it is still called the Poston Brick Company.
In 1902, Ed graduated from Wabash college - four letter man. I liked to attend the athletic games and was usually seen following the rah! Rah! Boys to "Milligan" field when I had some interesting chats with friends and neighbors - especially when one of my boys was hurt and they tried to divert my attention.
I remember upon one occasion Dr. Millis, then Supt. Of the HS stood in front of me and started a very animated conversation while just back of him two doctors worked over the prostrate form of my first born for an extra long "time out." For this I'm going to tell some jokes on Dr. Millis in my next book which I expect to write when I am one hundred.
This last paragraph recalls a saying of Thomas Baxter who thought he was going to die so he wrote a book which he called, "The Last Words of Thomas Baxter." Later he felt so much better that he wrote an addition which he called "More Last Words of Thomas Baxter."
We had always expected Ed to study medicine, so he entered Columbia University. He was there for almost two years when he developed trouble with his eyes. He came home, bag and baggage and announced that he was through. His father told him that he had always thought checks grew on rose bushes and all he needed do was just pluck them. It was decided that ed would take his $500 which his grandmother had left for each of the children and start in business. Mr. Poston told Ed to start out and see what he could do. Ed started to Chicago, and I was so fearful that he would take cold, that I packed his woolen underwear.
He read of a vacancy at Marshall-Fields in Chicago, so he lined up with 200 other applicants, holding his diploma. But they wanted experience, not diplomas, so he did not get the job. After watching the advertisements for some time, he learned a man wished a partner in a restaurant business, at the end of a car line. He applied, was accepted and took charge immediately. It was not an inviting-looking place, so Ed immediately bought new china dishes and table clothes. The owner did not approve of so much expenditure.
Bertha Kelsey, the girl to whom Ed was engaged, went to Chicago to visit a cousin. She went out one day to see Ed. The casher was absent from the restaurant that day, so Bertha volunteered to take his place. To her dismay, two Crawfordsville students happened to come in. One of them was a son of the Wabash College president. Bertha was embarrassed until she learned that they had come to borrow money from Ed.
The restaurant was not a paying proposition for two owners, so the original owner suggested they dissolve partnership, one either buying or selling. At this time, one of Ed's fraternity brothers had recommended Ed for a job as shipping and receiving clerk at one of the CB & Q Railroad offices. Ed sold out his share of the business and took the job. He rented a typewriter and learned typing in the evenings. He was there long enough to learn the business thoroughly.
There was need of a bookkeeper at Mr. Poston's plant in Crawfordsville. Ed learned about it and tried out for the place by sending a sample of his bookkeeping work to his father. Mr. Poston was much pleased by Ed's ability and sent for him to come home and keep books. That was Ed's initiation into the brick business.
When we first came to Crawfordsville we went into the Center Presbyterian Church under Dr. Cunningham's pastorate. When he learned that we were descendants of Mathew Henderson, he was very much pleased. He had formerly lived in Pa and knew of our ancestors. It made him seem an old friend.
Bess was the artistic one of the family. She would often go to the yard of Lew Wallace to paint. One day she was painting the Ben Hur tree, a beech tree under which Wallace had written Ben Hur. Mr. Wallace came and watched her and criticized her work. He was pleaded to find her painting his favorite tree and helped her in her work.
After renting for several years, we built a home of our brick. Mrs. Lane, general Wallace's sister and Governor Lane's widow, lived across the street. She sent her man over with loads of flower plants and shrubs for our new home, even planting them for us.
Mrs. Wallace was rather eccentric. We would see her pass by with her dress caught up in front and trailing behind, a lace veil over her face, and a little parasol the size of a dinner plate over her head. She helped General Wallace in his writing. While they were writing the Prince of India, Dr. Cunningham went to call. They had not, as yet, named the book. T he minister was much interested in it. When Mrs. Walllace came to the door, Dr. Cunningham said, "And How is our Prince of India today?"
"That's just what we'll call it," she said. "We've been wanting a good name for it."
When Lew Wallace was sent as ambassador to Turkey, the Sultan presented him with a cigar box studded with diamonds. In the center was a large diamond surrounded with smaller ones. The Sultan presented Mrs. Wallace with a large brooch in the shape of a crescent. I remember having seen her wear it. Mrs. Wallace took the gifts to Tiffany's and asked them to put a price upon them. She was told they could not put a value upon them as they were priceless.
I was out driving one day, and Mrs. Wallace came out of the bank, carrying a small parcel. On seeing me, she beckoned me to drive to the curb and asked me to driver her out of town and she would show me something. As we drove out of town she said that some celebrities were coming to see the General and she had taken the famous Wallace diamonds from the bank for the visitors to view. She exhibited the jewels to me and I was amazed at the number. I said, "Why, are those real?" She said, "All but two." Those had been removed as gifts for nieces and had been replaced with paste stones. I never knew what became of the diamonds, but suppose the General's son fell heir to them.
Evelyn was our first grandchild. She was not a strong baby, so we decided to rent a cottage for the summer at Ludington on Lake Michigan. Several other Crawfordsville people who had cottages were there. We took Julia, the maid-of-all-work. Evelyn took a cold so we sent into Ludington for a doctor.
When he came he began to hunt the child in a mass of comforters. When he found her he said, "I think what this child needs is fresh air." He prescribed onion juice and his bill was five dollars.
Ed was a great fisherman. He would fish all day and bring in loads of fish. Our friends were always glad to see him come in as he shared trout with them.
I took Julia, the deaf girl, with me into Ludington one day. We stopped at the drug store for a cherry phosphate. The clerk placed the straws in the drink. Julia had evidently never used straws, instead of sipping, she blew into the straw and of course the contents of the glass went over the table, to the amusement of the clerks. I told her how to use the straws and she said, "Oh, that's it, is it?"
Reverend Smith of Crawfordsville had just been married to May Wright Sewell, teacher of oratory. She was on the lecture course of the Chatauqua at Ludington. We home folks went into town and secured a dish pan full of lovely sweet peas then came to our home to arrange them for the shower.
Julia came in, saw us and said, "Whose funeral?" We all sat in a group at the lecture with the flowers hidden. A t the close, as Mrs. Smith turned to leave the stage, we showered her with our bouquets. She turned, almost overcome and said, "It's just because it's home folks, you know!"
I was telling Mr. Smith the next day about Julia asking, "Whose funeral," and he laughed and replied, It came very near being our funeral, we were so overcome."
Another summer we went to Winona Lake. Mr. Poston's brother, Clarence, had expected to go with us, but after we had rented the cottage, he could not go. The cottage belonged to Dr. Wishard of Indianapolis, who because of a death in their family, were not coming up that year. It was a large house with lovely furnishings, and servants' quarters outside. We invited Mrs. Wilson, our minister's wife and her two sons, about Emmett's age to be our guests. W e were glad to have them for company.
Mrs. Willis and Ben, her son, also about Emmett's age came up for awhile. The boys surely had exciting times. There were so many of us, the boys slept in the servants' quarters, which were nice and clean.
Emmett had asked for long pants, wishing to become accustomed to them before he returned home, so the boys would not tease him. We all rowed over to Warsaw with Emmett to make his purchase. He wanted everything to match, sox, shoes, and even his garters and they HAD to be gray. To the amusement of us all, we would look back to see him admiring his new clothes. Emmett always excelled in athletics - carrying home form the lake first medals in swimming, diving and tennis.
Our summer almost ended in tragedy. Mrs. Wilson had a cold and bought some couth drops. She kept chewing the drops while I was away and when I returned she was lying on the bed, eyes closed and faintly breathing. I hurried to the hotel and summoned a doctor. He rushed on ahead of me, and when I reached the cottage the doctor was examining her. He ordered hot coffee and forced her to drink it. We walked her about until we had her awakened. She had been drugged by the cough drops. That taught me to be careful about what kind of medicine I used.
After living in Crawfordsville for 15 years, Mr. Poston wanted more stock in the brick factory. No one wanted to sell, but they all wanted to buy. Since the boys were grown, Mr. Poston wanted to make for them in the business. Being unable to buy stock, he sold out and planned a new factory in a new location.
Of course, the factory had to be built where a certain type of shale was available. It was hard to find, but finally they decided that Martinsville was favorable. So we moved that fall, 1907.
Just before we left Crawfordsville, Mrs. smith, the lady whom we showered with sweet peas at Ludington, gave a farewell dinner for me. It was held at the country club and all my old neighbors and friends were guests. Mrs. Smith's mother sat at the right of the hostess and I sat at the left. After we were finished eating, Mrs. Smith beckoned to the caretakers, who brought a small package. She opened it and revealed a loving cup, which she gave to her mother. She told her to pass it on, each one filling it with loving remembrances. I remember Mrs. Lane saying she wanted it filled with good wishes, overflowing, pressed down and running over. After all 26 guests had held the cup and expressed kind thoughts it was handed to me. I was so overcome by their expressions of good will that it old them I was like Pat in the well. Pat had fallen in the well, and Mike, his pal, leaned over and called, "Pat, are you dead?" No answer. He called again. "Pat are you dead?" From the bottom of the well the response, "Faith, I'm not dead, but I'm speechless." I still treasure the cup as one of my dearest possessions.
Not long after this, Martinsville became my home city. We had trouble finding a house. We knew no one but Dr. and Mrs. Kessinger, formerly of Athens, Ohio who helped us find a home. They lived in what is now the Cure and Hensley Funeral Home. We stayed with them until we could find a place. We were fortunate in getting Mrs. Fanny Park's home, she wanting a smaller house. Later we moved into the Comer home and lived there until we built our own home.
Emmett brought basketball to Martinsville, being the first coach, much to the annoyance of Superintendent Robinson, who believed in cultivating the head instead of the heels. The first game was played in the old Skating Rink, now used as a feed store. The boys thought they had a fine crowd, if as many as 12 turned out. Emmett was captain of the basketball team at the University of Illinois for several years. After Emmett had finished his college course, he married Beryl Nutter. Within a few months, they moved to Springfield, Illinois and Mrs. Poston built a brick plant for Emmett.
We decided to made them a visit. We went in Ed's seven passenger Cadillac. It was packed full as sardines - Bertha, Evelyn, Eileen, Bess and baby Irvin, Mr. Poston, Ed and myself. Just as we started, a black cat ran across the road and one of the children said, "Oh, we'll have bad luck," and we did. When we were about 6 or 7 miles from Springfield, our bad luck began. A torrent of rain, suddenly came down, making the road slippery. There were no hard-surfaced roads then. We skidded across the road into a ditch, leaving the car at an angle of 45 degrees. Passing folks were kind but could do nothing to help us. The car was so large. Ed was going for help when a man, driving a tea wagon into Springfield came along. He offered assistance for two. It was decided that I should go with him and take Eileen. W e drove into the lane and Beryl & Emmett were sitting on the portico waiting for us. Beryl called out to the tea wagon driver, "We don't want nay tea, today." When we laughed, they noticed us and called out, "Where are the rest of them?" I told Emmett to hurry with the chains. They were stranded in a ditch. So he started out. He took the wrong road and landed in the ditch near the spot where we had been. By that time, Ed had received assistance and had come on. Emmett left his car and came home on the interurban, getting home about two a.m. He found every one there and in bed asleep, Ed having been towed in with two mules. We were there a week, before we were able to travel the roads. I am not superstitious, but I wondered about the black cat!
The last time we visited Emmett, Dow was learning the brick business from the ground floor up, just as his father and grandfather had done before him. Bill was following in his father's footsteps in athletics, winning many medals. Joella was so sweet and thoughtful. I am very fond of her. She was named after her two grandmothers, Luella Nutter and myself, Josephine. I wish they lived nearer as I would so much enjoy watching them grow up.
I think I have reason to be proud of all my grandchildren. As I sit musing, I close my eyes and see them one by one.
Irvin, his grandpa's namesake, the courteous, well-liked honor student, who plans to be a lawyer.
Charles, so artistic (like his mother) always handy about the house, helping Bess most with home responsibilities.
Josephine, my namesake, "standing with reluctant feet, where the brook and river meet," popular with the young people, lively and witty.
Last, but not least in my affections, Roy, the youngest of Bessie's family. An industrious boy, he never misses a chance of earning an honest penny, carrying papers, running errands, cutting grass or anything.
I am pleased that the children, with the exception of charles, received their foundations in musical training with Evelyn, who cannot be excelled as a piano teacher. Having graduated from the New England Conservatory of Music, she went back for two years post-graduate work.
The children are all a source of joy, and especially at Christmas, when they come home for the holidays bringing gifts. Many happy memories linger of the hours spent with my dear ones.
Polly, the parrot, a very entertaining member of the family, enjoys the family dinners or any other company. One day, Mr. See of Bridgeport came to see Mr. Poston on business. When he knocked, he heard a distinct, "Come in." Mr. See entered then hearing another, "Come in" from the dining room, he went on through to that room. Mr. See was still looking for the hidden voice when Mrs. Poston descended the stairs. Then suddenly Polly gave one of her loud, ha - has and both men and Polly almost burst their sides laughing.
When Polly's mistress, Mrs. Kelsey, passed on, her daughter Bertha wanted me to have Polly. One of Polly's sayings is "Polly has the toothache, ha ha ha! Mrs. Kelsey also taught Polly the first line of "My Country, Tis of Thee," and she is so much company I expect to keep her always. We could not get along without her.
After Mr. Poston had turned the brick business over to the boys, he could not be idle, so he bought a small farm, one mile east of town, which we called, "Maple Ridge." He built a summer home there and it has been a favorite picnic spot for the family ever since. We generally have a family picnic out there on the fourth of July ending the day with fire works.
I have always enjoyed the family picnics. For the past few years all the Postons, including the four Attica families, have held a family reunion, usually at one of our lovely state parks. Several years ago we went to the park at Nashville to spend the day, where Charles saved a man's life. The "Reporter" the next evening gave the following write up: "Arthur Ream, of Indianapolis dived into the pool, struck his head on a ledge or the bottom and was rendered unconscious and did not rise to the surface, the body remaining prone on the floor of the pool. Only a young girl was near and she frantically waved her arms. Mrs. McFarland, sitting in an auto 20 feet away screamed to her son, who had been swimming and gone to the dressing room. T he son hearing the call of his mother, sensed danger and ran to the pool and seeing a man's motionless form lying face downward on the floor, dived at once to the rescue. TA life was saved. The man after sometime when the art of resuscitation had been applied, breathed again. T he deed was recorded by those who had gathered about as a feat of heroism. Lasting honor should be bestowed upon the one who so courageously risked his life to save another. Then the next week he was a guest of honor at a chicken dinner given by the Lions Club. At this meeting resolutions were adopted commending Charles' heroic act. "Men have and always will praise the exhibition of courage. The deeds of the brave are written in letters of gold. The World lauds her heroes who have sacrificed self and risked life and limb for the safety of others. One of the finest examples of heroism took place in our midst at the Brown County State park Swimming Pool, June 4, 1934, when one of our lads, Charles McFarling, 15, son of Mrs. Bess McFarland of Martinsville, Indiana saved a man from drowning!
One of the happy surprises of my life was the golden wedding celebration which Blanche planned for us. On the evening of May 15, 1928, Mr. Poston and I had been invited up to Bessies's for what we thought was to be a quiet evening meal. Bess met us at the door, dressed in my wedding gown. T he table was heaped high with all the good things we liked to eat. The table cloth was one of my wedding gifts, a beautiful lace in fern leaf design. To the great surprise of both of us a very unique program had been arranged for the occasion. Ed was the toastmaster and presided in a most happy manner. Life on the farm was retold by the children and Emmett recounted the wedding journey. Dances which her grandfather enjoyed in his younger days were given by Eileen Poston in a very charming manner. As a closing dance she gave "ma-zoo-vie-ann (Mr. Poston's favorite dance) inviting her grandfather to be her partner, who readily complied and at the close she told her grandfather she would rather dance with him than the young men of today, because of the grace and rhythm of his movements. Dow Poston gave a recitation, "I love my grandma" and another was given by Irvin McFarland, "Grandma on the Old Farm House veranda."
Then the following program was given in unison:
Grandchildren: "We children with to greet you now by making you our very best bow And show our love if you'll allow with a shower of kisses all for you."
Sons: Give 3 cheers for the groom, Hip hoorah, hip hoorah, For this big day make room Hip hoorah, hip hoorah
Daughtesr; Give 3 cheers for the bride Hip hoorah, Hip hoorah! Great joy ever with her abide, Hip hoorah, hip hoorah Hoorah!
ALL: Now let us all sing to the bride and to the groom there by her side, so loyal true what'er betide a health because that knot was tied. HOORAH for the 50 years HOORAH for the Golden wedding!"
Sing to the tune of Sweet Genevieve :
"Oh Grandmamma, dear Grandmamma,
No flapper arts do you employ
No lipstick, smokes nor flaming cheeks,
We do you homage, with great joy.
Oh, Grandpapa, dear Grandpapa
Give up your pipe - well, not just now
For what is life without a friend
To give you comfort to the end?
The secrets hidden within its bowl
Are safe indeed from ev'ry soul
No fuming, spurious cigarette
Will part you from your pal and pet.
Receitation: Grandma on the old farm house veranda" - Irvin McFarland
Sing - All
Put on your gray bonnet
With the blue ribbon on it
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay
And through the fields of clover
We'll drive to Dover
On our Golden Wedding Day.
Dedicated to IG Poston on the Anniversary of his Golden Wedding by Mrs. AG Rose.
Grandpa danced when he was young
And a wicket foot he flung
Dark haired sheik -his out-a-away
Put to share the "togs" today
Yes he was a handsome beau
For my grandma told me so
Now he sits there smoking, smoking
Enjoying radio and joking
Talking of our new inventions
Sometimes too glazed brick he mentions
No modern golf club does he wield
But with the hoe he tills the field
He knows his onions have no weeds
His brand of golf the nation needs'
Here's to grandpa this golden day
An old time dance in the old time way
My sweetest bow, my merriest smile
Will say it with "ma-zoo-vio-ann." Dance
We received many presents in keeping with the golden wedding celebration
My wedding dress was made Princess style of taffeta in peach-blew tint with a white lace overdress. The material came from abroad -- a gift form my sister, Emma, who purchased it in Paris. It is fitting that I close my book of memories with the following lines, since the desire of my life has been to live according to this my favorite motto.
"I shall not pass this way again
If therefore, there is any good that I can do, or any
Kindness that I can show,
Let me do it now
For I shall not pass this way again!"
Transcribed by: Karen Bazzani Zach