Chapter four of Ancestors of interest

 

Linnie and Lou George, 1880. Linnie was Mrs. Dirking, and Lou was Mrs. Spect

The George sisters 1901

L to R: Mary Jane George Cammack, Sarah Louise George Tompkins, Elizabeth Ann George Gaines, Susan Sophia George Thomas, and Melinda Elliot George Dirking

MEMOIRS OF LOUISE GEORGE TOMPKINS

Part 6

MOTHER’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY CONTINUED AS TOLD BY HER DAUGHTER, MYRTLE T. WILKINS

 

While a student at Mt. Lebanon College in Louisiana, Louise George and Mary Tompkins, a girl from Edgefield, SC became close friends.  Mary’s brother, Tommy, was studying law and assisting some of the students in mathematics in a nearby men’s college (also Mt. Lebanon).  However, he had never met his sister’s chum.

One Friday, when the Mt. Lebanon girls were dispersing for the weekend, one of them took a beautiful rose from a vase and handed it to Mary, saying: “Give this rose to your brother with my compliments.”  Louise, standing nearby, picked up a dusty, bedraggled rose from the floor, and, in a spirit of fun, she handed it to Mary, saying: “And give this rose to your brother with my compliments, Mary.”  Mary grabbed the withered rose from her hand, and with both roses ran away.

Tommy did not respond to the gift of the lovely, fresh rose, but to “Lou” he sent a beautiful poem of thanks for the wilted rose.

Soon after, he was introduced to her, and then began their courtship.

On the fourth day of December 1860, Louise George and Thomas Brooks Tompkins were married, at the home of her father in Marion, La.

Her father, Rev. Elias George, was a well-known and popular Baptist minister.  Being proud of his daughter, he insisted on having an outstanding wedding for her, though she preferred a quiet one.  However, he had his way and invited 200 people to attend the wedding, over which he presided.  The bountiful feast was the result of three weeks of baking, barbecuing, and making dozens of pies, cakes, custards, etc.

Several months after they were married, the Civil War began, and Tommy was called into service.  Lou lived with father’s family until the war ended but saw Tommy now and then when he came home on a furlough.

Their first child, Paul Garnet, was born in Marion, LA., on the 24^th day of September 1861.

When the war ended, she and Tommy, with their little son, moved to Farmerville, La., where Tommy began his practice of law.  In later years he was elected Judge of the District.

On the 5^th of January 1864, their second son, Samuel George, was born in Farmerville, La.

Annie Brooks, their third child, was born on the 21^st of March 1870, and on the 3^rd of February, 1872, Myrtle Louise arrived on the scene.

Though urged to run for State Senator, Judge Tompkins declined, on account of failing health.  He and his wife planned to move to California where his two sisters and their families resided.

Unfortunately, Judge Tompkins did not live to start on their westward journey, though they had shipped their household effects ahead.  He died without knowing that the boat carrying their belongings had burned on the Mississippi River, and nothing was saved.  Among valuable books that were burned was a volume of his own poems.  His wife seemed to deplore that loss more than she did the loss of many other treasures.

Now that everything had been swept away except her four children, she determined to move with them to California as she and Tommy had planned.  In the spring of 1873, she boarded the train with her little flock, and after a long, wearisome journey, they arrived in Yuba City, where they were welcomed by Dr. John Key (her brother-in-law) and Tommy’s sisters, Mrs. Savannah Key and Mrs. Mary Murphy, and their mother, Mrs. Eliza Thurman Tompkins.

After a good rest and visit, Dr. Key, being a Mason (as Tommy had been), took Tommy’s widow to Colusa and introduced her to his many masonic friends, and, together, they organized a “girl’s school” for her to conduct.  They arranged for her to reside and teach in a large building called “Spect’s Academy,” and soon the “Young Ladies’ Seminary” opened with 13 or more pupils.  The school grew and prospered, and the girls did not mind if the two little girls, Annie and Myrtle, played with their dolls under the teacher’s desk, not daring to talk aloud.  Paul and Sam attended the public school.

Mrs. Tompkins eventually sent for her sister, Linnie, to assist in teaching.  Oil painting and piano were added to their curriculum.

After two years of teaching, Mrs. Tompkins was married to Mr. Jonas Spect, a wealthy attorney, owner of Spect’s Academy and other properties.

A widower for over fifteen years, he built a nice four-bedroom home for her family, and provided a Chinese cook who was with them until Mr. Spect’s death in 1883.

Now that her time was practically her own, Mrs. Spect became active in church and charity work.  She produced many entertainments which were staged in the “Colusa Theatre” which was owned by her husband.

Among the entertainments she presented and directed were, “Madam Jarley’s Waxworks,” “King Oberon and Queen Titania” (a spectacular fairy play), “the Old Folks’ Concert” (humorous), and others.  These entertainments were well attended, and the proceeds given to charity.

Being ardently religious, Mrs. Spect organized a weekly prayer meeting which was held in private homes.  She usually conducted the meetings.  In her own home she held family worship each night with prayer and a chapter from the Bible.

Sunday school and church attendance for herself and children was a “must.”

After nine years of marriage to Mr. Spect, she again was left a widow.  Mr. Spect died with a heart attack at the age of 63.  At his funeral many of his tenants were weeping.  Sixty-two conveyances followed his body to the cemetery.

In 1887, Mrs. Spect, with her two daughters, moved to San Jose where her son, Sam, was attending College of the Pacific. At that time San Jose was a village.  Its small, horse-drawn streetcars carried passengers between Seventh (then Fourteenth) Street at the bridge and the town of Santa Clara.  The fare was 10 cents; that being the smallest coin.

A few years after she moved to San Jose, her son, Paul, who was a telegraph operator in the Western Union, was given a position in the San Jose office and arrived with his wife, Allie.  Their arrival united the entire family, and Mrs. Spect could not be censured for resuming her former name of “Tompkins.”  Her many talents and accomplishments enabled her to do much good during her long life.  A fractured leg confined her to a nursing home for two years, where she passed away on the 23^rd day of July 1936, at the age of 94 ½ years.

Her descendants to this date number 45.

-Myrtle T. Wilkins - 1960

Lou Tompkins 1930s

I am so appreciative of Lou Tompkins and her daughter's records of her life. There are many gaps, but the details which are included are so rich. I've learned much about the way families in Perry AL moved to Louisiana, which many of my own ancestors also did.  She does talk about some of them as they were also part of her life.

Chapter three of Ancestors of Interest

 

Home of Rev. Elias George, built in 1850. Photo taken in 2011.

19 June 1896 Lou Tompkins with her grandson, Raymond G. Wilkins, (son of Myrtle Louise Tomkins Wilkins)

There's a breaking place at this point, and then the following title:

 
THE MEMOIRS OF LOUISA GEORGE TOMPKINS
PART 5:  PLANTATION LIFE

 After the death of my mother, father seemed so disconsolate and broken in
spirit, that his friends and older children encouraged him to find a companion
for himself and a mother for his children.  He finally wrote to Mrs. Ross,---a
very excellent lady of character, culture, and refinement, reared and educated
in Richmond, Virginia and who was then living on a plantation that adjoined
our former home in Alabama.  This lady and her sister, Sarah and Mary, were
both widows; Mr. Bryant, husband of Mary, had died soon after moving to
Alabama, and Mr. Ross, Sarah's husband, died not long after we came to
Louisiana.
 
 It was satisfactorily arranged between my father and Mrs. Ross,---and the
following spring (1852), father went back to Alabama and they were married. 
It took two or three months to arrange her affairs and get all things in order
for the moving to Louisiana.  As the sisters would not be separated,
transportation for the two families had to be made and each had many slaves
and several children.  It was a big responsibility but it effectuality
diverted father's mind from his own personal grief.
 
 Finally, the second caravan left the same neighborhood for Louisiana, similar
to the first which had gone four years before,---with many vehicles and
covered wagons.  All arrangements for homes and land had been made previously
and were awaiting their arrival.
 
 One afternoon, when Sue, Jane, and I were attending school, a handsome youth,
about 18 years old, came into the classroom and asked for the George
sisters,---introducing himself as Jim Ross, our stepbrother.  On looking out
of the window, we were surprised to find the street lined with carriages,
buggies, wagons, and horses.  The young people had come in advance of the
wagons, while my father's wife and her sister were in a carriage to the rear. 
My father was on horseback and there were several others (bottom of original
page cut off).
 
 Our teacher excused us and we went out to meet our new relatives who insisted
that we go home with them, which we were only too delighted to do.  We didn't
even ask permission of our aunt, with whom we were boarding, but sent word
where we were.
 
 Father was so busy seeing that the negroes were settled, that he did not know
until that night that we had come home with the crowd.  When he finally came
into the house, three eager girls unexpectedly threw their arms around him. 
Imagine our amazement when he did not respond, but seemed dismayed at our
presence.  He said that we must return to school early in the morning, because
there was cholera among the negroes,---contracted while passing through the
Mississippi swamps.  A negro woman had died of it that night just as the wagon
in which she rode, stopped at the gate.  The next morning before breakfast, a
girl 12 years old, came in and said she was sick.  Father examined her and
gave her the cholera remedy, but at noon she was dead.  The place was
immediately quarantined.  In two weeks 16 negroes had succumbed.  After that,
there were no new cases, but it was many weeks before we were permitted to go
home again.
 
 When, once more, things were running smoothly on the plantation, work began
with speed on the new house in Marion which father had stopped building after
mother's death.  During that period, we resumed our former custom of weekend
visits to our country home and this gave us much pleasure.  We were always
taken back on Monday mornings, for school began at 8 a.m. and closed at 5
p.m., with two hours for recreation.  We liked horseback riding, and by
request, they would bring horses with side-saddles for us to ride home. 
Ladies were never seen to ride astride then, but many became fine equestrians,
even running through the forest in a deer or fox chase,---the horse leaping
over logs or anything that happened to be in his way.
 
 We sometimes brought home two or three school mates and what jolly good times
we had romping all over the place.  The younger children played " Ring-around
a rosy" , "Blind fold" , " Puss-in-the-corner" , and" You can't get out of
here" ,---and there were other games that I don't recall.  The last mentioned
game was played by six or seven forming a circle by holding hands; one was the
prisoner within the circle jail, out of which he was to break if he could. 
While trying to escape he would sing, " I'll bet you a dollar, I'll get outer
here!"   When he did, the one from whom he broke had to be the prisoner.
 
 During dear mother's life, we were allowed to romp and play with the children
of the house servants.  Although we worked and played together, the colored
children were obedient and kind, and we were taught to be just and kind to
them.  My mother, (Miss Ann, as they called her) settled any differences which
arose between us.  As I see it now, she was impartial in her judgement, but
then, I thought she was partial to the colored children.  Each child over six
had his little chores and appointed tasks, according to his age, which had to
be done before he was allowed to play.  Our little hands kept the knives,
forks, and other silverware shining and bright; scoured the milk-pans,
buckets, and dippers, and all the tin and copper vessels.  Also, the children
kept the yards clean.
 
 May 1st was always looked forward to with great pleasure, for on that day we
all, white and colored children alike, were permitted to leave off our shoes
and stockings for the first time since the last early autumn, and what joy was
ours for this privilege.
 
 As we grew older and started school, the pathway between servant and mistress
became more marked,---the servants took their places in deference and respect. 
At the same time, our love and childhood associations bound us together in
life-long affection and friendship.
 
 The new home in Marion, with all the outhouses for the servants, was at last
ready for occupancy.  The house was commodious with parlor, dining room, six
bedrooms, each with a fireplace, and every convenience known at that time. 
Father had a large hall built over the kitchen and a spacious storeroom. 
Steps to this hall were built from the outside to a porch above and the hall
was furnished with chairs, tables, and beds, and many extra mattresses which
were stored away for use during the occasions of summer church revivals,
school concerts and exhibitions, and examinations, when people came from far
and near.  At this time, there was not only a large family of our own, but
father, having a cordial, hospitable nature would never turn anyone away even
if he'd been consulted, and the public seemed to think "Parson George"  has
established a wayside inn with a " Welcome to All! without money and without
price" , because he had a big house and plenty of servants.  When we moved in,
the furniture which had been purchased in New Orleans was delayed in its
delivery, and the family had to make use of whatever furniture that was at
hand.  The floors were bare and rooms comparatively empty and the echoes that
resounded from the plastered walls and the uncarpeted stairways, were fearful
to little children, for the negroes, who were very superstitious had taught us
to believe in ghosts,---and when going up to our bedrooms at night, we could
easily imagine that "spooks"  inhabited every corner.  It was a long time
before I overcame this fear.
 
 Our home was located in a beautiful, level grove of oaks and pines.  There
were 25 acres.  Five-hundred yards in front of us, with no buildings to
obstruct, was the school.  To the rear of our dwelling, the land sloped down
to a bold spring and a running brook which was about four-hundred yards away. 
Outward surroundings rapidly improved; the grounds were laid out in oval,
diamond, and star-shaped beds and there were various kinds of mounds and
frames for vines.  Cape jasmine hedges sent their fragrance all over the
village which was steadily assuming the proportions of a town with two
churches, and several stores.  One church, the Baptist, of which father was
the pastor, was built on his land at the end of the garden.  A gate near the
side entrance of the house opened into a beautiful grove of oak trees in the
midst of which was the church with its white copula and bell extending a
welcome to all.  A large orchard of peaches, apples, plums, figs, and pears
had been planted in the back of the servants'  houses; and to the right of the
orchard was the horse-lot, corn-crib, and stalls.  In front of these were the
carriage and buggy houses, in which were kept the saddles for men and women.
 
 Our home was full of merriment and joy with young people often meeting for a
social evening.  My sisters and step-brothers, with piano, violin, and flute,
added by other members of the family, never lacked for entertainment.
 
 It was necessary to keep quite a coterie of servants.  Their individual
duties were as follows:  two cooks, Ann and Emoline; dining room maid and
helper, Easter and Rose; seamstress, Harriet; Laundress, Louisa.  Mother's
maid, Leta, a girl of 15; Linn, Bud' s (Elias, Jr.), and my maid, Rose;
gardener, Carter; and two 15 year old boys, Sam and Lex to keep fires, attend
horses, and do other chores.
 
 In the summer of this year, there was a big Baptist meeting held at Concord
Church which was two miles from town, the oldest meeting house (so-called
church) in that part of the country.  Father and other Baptist ministers were
in charge.  The greater part of Marion and the surrounding country attended
all-day services, with dinner on the grounds.  I became very much interested
in my soul' s salvation at this time.  I learned from God's Word that I must
repent my sins and " be baptized for the remission of sins".  I made up my
mind to obey God and was baptized according to Matthew 3:11-13.

No date but before 1902: Standing L to R:  Sarah Louise George Tompkins, Melinda Elliot "Linnie" George Dirking.  Seated L to R:  Mary Jane George Cammack, Elizabeth Ann George Gaines, Susan Sophia George Thomas.

And there's another chapter to come...

Chapter two of Ancestors of interest

Yesterday we left off with hearing Louisa George report of the yellow fever taking servants as well as  more dear ones. To continue... 

 Our father and mother were almost overwhelmed with grief.  Three good
servants were dead and three children were expected to die at any time.  But
the cup of sorrow was not yet full and once more the death angel appeared,
taking our faithful, devoted, and precious mother.  
 
 She had been for the last time to see her sick servants.  She found the maid
dead and the cook in a dying condition.  Mother prayed with her and comforted
her as best she could.  Upon leaving, Julia put her arms around mother' s neck
and said, " Miss Ann, meet me in heaven" .
 
 The next day mother was not feeling well, but did not go to bed.  That night,
she had a congestive chill, and at four a.m., she went to meet Julia in
heaven.  Her death was so sudden and unexpected, that father was beside
himself with grief and for several months the physicians were afraid he would
lose his mind.
 
 We three children were now wholly dependant on relatives, friends and
servants.  Although mother died in a room across the hall from where we were,
we knew nothing of her death till three weeks later.  The first thing that
seemed to call me back to consciousness was brother Elias crying and begging
for mother.  Father was holding him on his lap and when he continued to plead,
father burst into tears and told him mother had gone to be with God in heaven. 
With this explanation my brother ceased to call for her.  I was too weak, I
suppose, to realize the meaning, and never did until we moved back home to
begin life anew,---without our dear mother and faithful servants.
 
 I grieved for mother and Sarah, the girl who was my competitor in knitting.
(End of the original page cut off).

....all the time.  Sometimes I wanted cube sugar, and another time, brown
sugar; and again it would be sugar cane.  Once, I wanted oranges,  but none
could be had, even in Monroe, which was 60 miles away.  But I could not be
reconciled, and father sent Carter, the carriage driver and gardener to
Lakeport on the Mississippi River, over 100 miles away and told him not to
come back without oranges.  It took three or four days for the trip, but when
he returned with plenty of large, sweet, juicy Florida oranges, I feasted on
them till I was satisfied.
 
 Beginning to walk a little, I decided I wanted to go to Aunt Caroline's, and
seeing that I was determined, Mammy Chloe took me up on her shoulder and
carried me over.  Dear old Mammy Chloe,---how I loved her.  Right here, I want
to say that she nursed me when my first child (Paul) was born in my father's
home where we were living during the Civil War.  Mammy died during the War.
 
 Aunt Caroline let me stay as long as I desired (several weeks), and when the
last strand of hair disappeared from my head, she knitted me a black silk cap. 
She also bought some red, green, and white material for a quilt and taught me
how to sew the squares together into a double-chained square.  This was a very
wise thing to do, for I was very irritable and discontented, but upon getting
busy with my quilt, I was no longer any trouble.

(Note: Aunt Caroline was Rev. George's younger sister, Caroline Holt George McAdams, (1822-1887)
 
 As I grew stronger, my greatest joy was in the garden.  It was now Autumn,
and the chrysanthemums were in greatest profusion.  I had been with mother
when she superintended the planting of these flowers.  There was a cozy nook
with a cape jasmine bush on one side, a frame of honeysuckle vines on the
other, and in the rear, a frame of Marshall Neal roses.  Here, it seemed, I
could realize her presence more than anywhere else, and I was comforted in my
quiet solitude.  But I missed her more than anyone could realize and my heart
ached with its longing, finding relief in tears.  Sue, who was now 14, took me
under her wing and looked after my every need and ever after maintained that
same motherly interest, which endeared her to me more than the fondest, most
devoted sister.  She is still living in her old home in Marion which she and
her husband bought soon after the Civil War.  She was 90 years old last
January 6th of this year (1926).  (end of original page cut off)

(NOTE:Sister Sue was Susan Sophia George Thomas, (1836-1926) who would only have two sons of her own, one of whom lived to be an adult)

(Here we're hearing about the slaves...)
 
...can realize the strong personal attachment which exists between them.  The
fact of ownership and responsibility on the part of one, and the childlike
dependence of the other formed a mutual love, akin to parent and child; the
parent to control and the child to obey.
 
 We were indeed a sad family.  My oldest sisters (Lizzie and Sue) had to leave
school to be at home with us four younger children,---three of us still
invalids, though slowly gaining in health.  Sue and Lizzie were children in
experience but brave, dear sisters who did what they could.  The new
house-servants were untrained for domestic work but they were good and willing
to learn, and under the supervision of father's sister, Aunt Caroline McAdams,
who lived on a high hilltop nearby, they became quite proficient.  Aunt
Caroline was a widow with one daughter and three sons, and she did all within
her power to mother and care for us.  We saw little of father; he was so
stricken, yet he saw that we had everything needed.  He was so depressed in
spirit that he stopped building the house in Marion.
 
 Besides Aunt Caroline, sister Elizabeth cared for us four younger children. 
The youngest, Linn was four years old; Elias, 6; I, 8; and Jane, 10.  Lizzie
was a good sister, fond of reading, study, and music.  A new piano at this
time was company for her and Sue.  They did what they could for the happiness
of all and we were a peaceful and harmonious household.  But we missed our
family worship which mother never neglected, nor father, when he was home. 
But now he stayed on the farm with the overseer, coming home occasionally to
see that all was right.
 
 Father was troubled on all sides.  His good overseer, whom he brought with
him from Alabama, had also died and he hired another who understood very
little of superintending a large plantation of negroes and farm work. 
However, it was a good thing, even a blessing that father had to supervise
till the new manager was fully initiated into the routine of duties devolvent
on him.  The sight of his motherless children was a fresh stab of the dagger
to his poor bleeding heart.
 
 The three months' sickness left me no flesh nor strength. I was so emaciated
that they carried me around like a baby.  Dr. Traylor, the physician said I
could have all the sugar and sugar cane I wanted.  I kept a bowl of sugar on
the bed-table (bottom of original page cut off).
 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF LOUISA GEORGE TOMPKINS
 PART 4:  SCHOOL DAYS

 A year had passed since dear mother left us and I was stronger, so father
decided to send Sue, 15; Jane, 13; and me, 9 to school and board us with Uncle
Dick (Bass, mother's brother) in Marion.  Sissy, now 17, had to stay at home
to look after Bud (Elias), 7; and Melinda, 5.

(NOTE: This episode takes place in Marion LA, not Marion AL.)

 
 I can't express the great delight and joy when I was permitted to go to
school, and to have a slate, book, and a pencil of my own; and to have a
lesson assigned me in Webster's Blue Backed Spelling Book
---one of which I have now, and which I treasure as a souvenir of my first
school days and which, like myself, remains alone,---a relic of the past.
 
 Marion was then a village of about 20 families, the most of whom were
prosperous farmers with plantations a few miles out in the country.  These were
cultivated by negroes and supervised by competent white overseers.  Though a
village in size, Marion had the finest school in north Louisiana.  The
principal was a highly accomplished lady from Virginia, and her sister was the
music teacher.  Their names were the Misses Harriet and Mary Whiting, and I
want to say that they were the best teachers I ever had,---even better than
those in the Judson College.
 
 There were only three of us in the primary class,---and the other two were
about my age.  All of us were ambitious to excel, and each of us was generally
perfect in lessons and deportment.  Occasionally, at the end of the month, one
would get an average of 99 (100 was perfect).  Then, for the other two there
would be much grief, but Miss Harriet would promise to cancel the failure if
we were perfect in everything the following month.  While at school I often
had chills and fever, but I could not be induced to go home to be doctored,
till Miss Harriet promised to give me my credits if I would study and recite
my lessons to Sue, who agreed to hear them and make faithful reports.  I would
often lie in bed and study while I had fever. 
 
 Doctor Traylor, father's family physician, finally took me from school and
kept me in his home for three weeks while he doctored and finally cured me. 
He was the father of Kate Traylor, one of my classmates and rivals.  He was
like a dear father and had Kate and me sleep in a trundle bed in his wife's
room.  I had every care, with a servant in an adjoining room to be called if
needed.  Kate and I were devoted friends until her death in Temple, Texas in
1914.  I had visited her the previous summer.  At this time I lived in San
Jose, California, and was returning from Marion where I had been visiting
Sister Sue.

(NOTE: Dr. Traylor was probably John Randolph Traylor MD, 1807-1864, my 3 times great uncle. The daughter closest in age to our Lou George was Sarah Katherine Traylor, 1847-1914. His wife, Sarah Simpson Traylor had been born in France, and they had 12 children together. Dr. John Traylor was brother of my 3 times great grandmother Nancy Jones Traylor Powell.)

 
 Coming back to school,---I began to take music lessons at the age of ten
(1852).  As I was very fond of music and liked to practice, it was not too
many months before I was in Class A,---out of 40 pupils.  We had a fine
teacher and her recitals, then called concerts, excelled those in larger, more
prominent schools.  At the age of twelve (1856) my teacher had me learn and
play at her recital, a solo with variations which the music teacher of the
College in Farmerville, the county seat, had played at one of their concerts,
for there was great rivalry between the schools.  At this time also, by my
father's request, my teacher had me play "The Battle of Buena Vista" , with
cannons, fife, drums, and battle raging.  Then I was the principal alto singer
and had to supply the need in duets and choruses, as well as in character
songs.
 
 I trust that you will bear with this egotism, by recalling that I am writing
my autobiography, and am speaking of self as of another person.  I reveled in
music and art and had made such progress in drawing and water colors that my
teacher often called upon me to help her in assisting and finishing the work
of her class which was too large for one teacher.
 
 School days in Marion were drawing to a close.  Our devoted teachers, Misses
Harriet and Mary Whiting, whom we all loved and respected, honored, and
obeyed, were leaving.  Miss Mary, the music teacher, married a lawyer and
located in Omaha.  Miss Harriet returned to Virginia and was later married.
 
 Our next teacher proved to be a failure,---many of her pupils being more
advanced than she in every way.  She was really a "back letter"  and did not
command the respect of her school.  Under our former teachers, we were taught
to be courteous and respectful to everyone.  We were required to be thorough
in each study, and we all seemed to be inspired with an ambition to be first
in our studies because we loved our teachers.  It was the difference between
these teachers that first gave me to understand that respect must go before
love.  Our parents soon learned their mistake and after one term, discharged
her.

 
 The next Fall (1856) father decided to send me and my two stepbrothers, who
were 16 and 17 years old, back to school in Marion, Alabama where there was a
large female college (The Judson) and male college (The Howard) of 300, and
each was a Missionary Baptist college.  We had been there only two months when
the boys were called to the deathbed of their mother who passed away soon
after their return.
 
 I remained throughout the whole term which closed with graduating exercises
and a concert,---the grandest it has been my pleasure to hear and in which it
was my privilege to have part in several instrumental numbers and choruses. 
The Concert, with all the closing exercises, was held in the city auditorium
and about 150 pupils took part.  The first piece on the program was the "Norma
March and Variations".  This was one of my numbers.  Nine pianos, arranged in
a circle on the rostrum faced the center where there was a full orchestra,
including an Italian harp.  There were 27 performers at the pianos---three at
each instrument.  I also played in another number with 18 performers at nine
pianos.  In a chorus called, " Scenes that are Brightest", 17 of us played
guitars which were suspended from our shoulders with pink ribbons.  The
principal of the music department was a German professor.  Under his
supervision were three music teachers (Ladies) of whose work and efficiency he
was responsible.  He had a musical family of five boys and girls from eight to
sixteen years of age, and each played a different instrument.
 
 We wore uniforms at Judson.  Our winter uniform was a green suit with a green
dolman for a wrap.  There was no jewelry, not even a breastpin for the collar,
which was of plain white linen pinned neatly at the throat, and there were no
low necks or short sleeves.  In summer, the uniform was pink and white.  At
the close of the study hour on Saturday night, the Governess, who was in
charge would tell us what we were to wear to church the next day.  One time,
it would be a pink dress and a white berege (fashionable dress material at
that time) talma (a circular cape with a bias ruffle).  Perhaps the next time
we would be told to wear a white dress and pink talma.  The bonnets were white
woven mohair, circling around the face and tied under the chin with a bow of
pink ribbon.  There was no trimming whatsoever, but they were lined with pink
and had a circular skirt of pink ribbon with narrow straw braid at the bottom. 
We wore these summer and winter.
 
 There was no difference shown with richest or poorest; all fared and shared
alike.  One a month, each girl was permitted to have fifty cents worth of
candy, nuts and fruit.
 
 The governess was not a teacher but had general supervision over the girls
out of school hours which were from seven to nine p.m. and from five-thirty to
six-thirty a.m.  She also supervised morning and evening study hours. 
Breakfast was at seven and school started at eight, with two hours for noon. 
School then began at two and closed at five.  From five to six, we were free
to play out in the beautiful grounds or park surrounding the buildings.
 
 The day began at five a.m. with the ringing of a large bell at the top of the
College, which was so loud that its peals could be heard all over the city. 
We sleepy girls had to bathe and dress as best we could in thirty minutes
before the school bell rang for study in the assembly room.  When the tap bell
was given for order and roll call, anyone not answering to his name was marked
tardy and received five demerits.  I always managed to be present, but once,
when I was not feeling well, I stayed in bed till the last minute, when I
jumped into slippers and study gown and with stockings in hand, rushed
downstairs to the study hall, reaching my desk just as the bell tapped for
silence.  That was the nearest I ever came to being tardy during the three
terms I spent there.
 
 When I first entered the College, I was assigned to the Junior Class.  The
first day I went to grammar class, they analyzed sentences, something I had
not been taught in our village school.  My teacher, however, told me to give
attention while (bottom of original page cut off).
 
 About a month later, father came to Alabama on business and visited me.  I
was so happy I cried for joy and became very homesick.  And since I was also
discouraged with my schoolwork, pleaded with him to take me home.  After much
persuasion he consented, and what joy!  I began that day to pack my trunk as
we were to start the next day.
 
 Bidding friends and teachers goodbye, we took the train the following morning
for Selma, where on the Alabama River there was a boat for Mobile and thence
we crossed the Gulf to New Orleans.  After spending several days in that city,
we boarded one of the finest and most popular boats at that time, the " Doctor
Buffington", which ran from New Orleans to Little Rock.  Her patrons were
mostly farmers and merchants.  There were so few railroads in the country that
all transportation was dependent on river navigation.  These were fordable in
summer but out of service to large steamers, except in the winter.
 
 The boat landed at nine a.m. on the third day of our trip from New Orleans
and five of us landed.  There was Hattie Bryant, a girl of my age, and two
young men from Marion.  Father went ahead on horseback to Marion which was ten
miles away.  Our baggage was sent in a wagon and we had to wait until father
sent the carriage for us.  But we started walking to meet the carriage and had
gone two miles before it approached us.
 
 (1858) I had not been home long when my father began to receive numerous
answers to an advertisement which he had placed in the " New Orleans Picayune"
calling for a school teacher and a music teacher.  He had me help him make a
choice.  From among the thirty or forty letters, I selected a mother and
daughter and this letter also suited father.  This he answered and a few weeks
later Mrs. Harrison and Anna Porter were added to our family.  They were all
that could be desired both as teachers and as companions.  Both were well-read
and quite intellectual.  Porter sang and played beautifully.  She was a fine
entertainer,---so full of life and vivacity and with never a loss for a word. 
The first time I ever heard "Kathleen Mavourneen"  was when it was sung by
her.  She and I became constant companions even though she was two years older
than I.  And what she was in companionship to me, her mother was to Sissy
(Sister Elizabeth).  They were both fond of reading and search for knowledge. 
Sissy often wrote continued stories for the "Boston Olive Branch"  and her
nom de plume was "Isabelle Gayle".  She also wrote for "Godey's Ladies' 
Magazine".
 
 Porter and I learned many vocal and instrumental duets which kept us in
practice and added pleasure and entertainment.  My life-long bosom friend,
Georgie Goldsby, was still at school in Memphis, Tennessee.  Her parents were
neighbors and dear friends of the family.  They had several children and the
oldest was a son named Miles; a very bright, intelligent, and handsome young
man, with no bad habits, such as tobacco, intoxicants, and swearing.  Although
he was generally admired, I cared very little for him.  He and Porter became
mutual admirers, which developed into stronger ties; but her mother, ever
watchful of her daughter's welfare, and being a wise and practical woman,
objected to anything further than mutual friendship.  The Harrisons suddenly
left Marion that Fall, but Porter left her heart behind.  This episode
resulted in the popular ballad, "In The Gloaming".

 
 After Porter and Mrs. Harrison left us, Sissy and I decided to move back to
her own farm called "OakLawn", a beautiful place which I shall describe at
another time.  There were many pleasant episodes at this delightful home and
my dear sister did everything possible for my happiness and welfare.  Georgie
Goldsby returned from Tennessee and we spent many pleasant months together. 
But the time came when Georgie and I realized that we were wasting golden days
in taking ease, comfort, and pleasure which could never return.  Our better
judgement decided us to return to school that Fall (1859) which was near at
hand.  Little did we think that the halcyon days of our close companionship
were drawing to an end.  She returned to her aunt in Memphis where she
attended college.  After graduating, she married a gentleman named Smith whom
I met.  He lived only a few years, dying in Memphis, and leaving her with two
little boys.
 
 At this time, I also, left for Mount Lebanon College in Farmerville,
Louisiana---a Baptist college of much notoriety at that time.  There was also
a large Baptist Male college in the same town, which my youngest brother,
Elias, 15, attended.  My youngest sister, Linn was with me at college.  The
Fall term opened September 1st of .(bottom of original page cut off).  

Our
president was named Prescott, a fine man of reputation as an instructor of
booklore.  Before taking charge of the female college, he was for several
years president of the male college.  The trustees elected him to the change,
hoping to have it established and managed on the same basis, rules, and
regulations as the Judson in Marion, Alabama.
 
 When Professor Prescott learned of my having attended the Judson School, he
requested me to assist him in formulating rules for governing each department,
just as they were at Marion.  All these he followed, except the uniforms,
which could not be adopted at that time.  In a few days, the school was in
order and all seemed to understand that it was a place for study and the
obedience to its laws,---and all were strictly enforced.
 
 On the first of October, the County Fair was opened in town for one week. 
Our school laws were suspended for the time and students were free to attend
it with suitable chaperons or escorts.  During that week, I made many pleasant
acquaintances, among them several very nice gentlemen,---one of whom I shall
specifically mention.  This was Doctor Key, son of Martin Key, a very fine man
who never forgot me after our meeting on this occasion.

------------------

NOTE: the following note came with the text as presented, where it changes to an observation of Louisa George and her future husband, Thomas B. Tompkins.

 
 Note:  At this point, the school days were brought to a close.  Dr. Key was
indirectly responsible for the romance between Louisa George and Thomas Brooks
Tompkins and the story will be told in another chapter.

=============

And there are some important changes coming into Sarah Louise (Lou) George's life soon.

1860s woman's dress

Ancestors of interest...chapter one

First, let's look at how she's related to me. I just like knowing the ancestors strings, tangled though they may be.

Sarah Louise (Lou) George Tompkins' mother, Mosley (Molly Ann) Bass George, 

b. 17 June 1812 in Perry AL, d. 17 Oct. 1850 Marion, Union Parish, LA 

was sister to my great great grandfather...

Col. Richard (Dick) Bass 

b.3 Jan 1819, Perry County AL, d. 5 May 1880, Waverly, Walker County TX.

so she was my first cousin three times removed.

This first part of her memoirs covers from her birth in 1842 to the yellow fever epidemic in 1850.

(I will use italics for my comments as Notes)

  THE MEMOIRS OF LOUISA GEORGE TOMPKINS

Union Parish, Louisiana

Submitted by Chuck Kinnison.

Sarah Louise (Lou) George Tompkins Specht


  
 (WRITTEN IN 1926 AT THE AGE OF 84 YEARS)
  BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION
 
 
 To gratify the insistent desire of children, grandchildren, and friends, I
shall begin a book of reminiscences.  Some have suggested that an unvarnished
life story, if frankly and simply told, might be of interest and help to
others.
 In the careful introspection of my life I realize I have achieved so little;
that there is not much to tell.  Material for a book, the foundation of which
depends on the gleamings from a "child's" life which began more than
three-fourths of a century ago, will be mixed with much that is of little
interest to anyone but the writer.
 
 While unraveling the threads that were used in the woven garment, many knots
had to be tied, leaving the blemishes of neglected opportunities.  Still, with
the many imperfections, I am glad to say there are also happy reflections of
the opportunities embraced.  The seeming egotism in the book will be pardoned
when it is observed that I am trying to give honor to the Great Friend who
inspires the hearts of the willing and obedient.
 
PART 1:  THE FIRST HOME
 I was born on a farm near Hamburg, Perry County, Alabama in 1842.  Elias
George and mother, Ann Bass George, were the parents of nine children,--four
sons and five daughters, of whom I was third from the youngest.  All lived to
maturity, married and raised families, except one brother, "Jeffy" , two years
my senior, who at the age of eight years was thrown from a runaway horse.

 My parents were missionary Baptists, and we were early taught to reverence
the name of Jesus, respect the Sabbath day, be kind and charitable to the
poor, to servants, and to animals.  There was family worship every night
before retiring, and my mother would have the servants come in and to join us
at such times.  We were a happy family because children and servants were
taught obedience to those who ruled them.  We loved our servants and they
loved us.
 
 My father, being a slaveholder, had a large plantation on which many supplies
for home consumption were raised, such as corn, cotton, potatoes, barley, and
peas.  The home was a large, rambling two-storied building, and each of the
various rooms had a fireplace.  But the room that charmed me most was the
nursery,--a large room with windows facing southward, overlooking the pasture,
and in the springtime there was much interest in the horses and the little
lambs as they chased each other and gamboled in the field.
 
 Our black mammy Chloe, was installed as guardian and caretaker of the
nursery.  Its inmates included three children, from one to five years old and
two nurse girls, Mariah and Harriet, who were ten and eleven years old.  The
girls, under the supervision of mammy Chloe, would see to our bathing,
dressing, and feeding.  When the weather permitted, we were kept out doors in
the sunshine and although the girls ran and played with us, our black mammy
was ever near and watchful that no harm befell us.
 
 It is difficult to make it understood what love we had for Mammy and the
girls.  This attachment lasted even to old age.  Mammy died just a few
years (original sheet cut off).
 
 I would not have one think that our precious mother neglected her little
children under these conditions and surroundings.  She had duties devolving
upon her, which could not be done by others.  There were nine children to
clothe and feed.  While she had servants who cooked, washed, ironed and sewed,
she supervised each department.  There were no sewing machines nor ready-made
clothing.  We were strangers to most of the conveniences in common use today. 
Even soap and candles were made at the plantation.  My father raised
everything possible at home and a yearly trip to New Orleans resulted in the
equivalent of a carload of provisions, dress goods from England or New England
and many other things needed for the plantation.  Oranges, apples, dried
fruits, and candy were bought by the barrel.
 
 How well do I remember the picturesque surroundings of our home.  There was a
long sloping hill to the rear of the house, at the foot of which was a cold,
gushing spring, and directed channels went forth to the house lot, chicken
yard, and other needed places.  A milk house was built over this spring, the
floor of which was laid of large, flat rocks, so arranged that the stream was
conducted over a channel two or three inches lower than the floor and wide
enough to hold several pans of milk and butter.
 
 Our home was surrounded with mocking birds, swamp sparrows, field larks,
whip-poor-wills, blue jays, and cardinals.  They were never disturbed and
consequently, many became quite tame, often feeding with the chickens, geese,
ducks, turkeys, and peafowls.  The whip-poor-wills could be heard at night in
the swamp below, sometimes coming into the garden as though they wanted to
serenade us from the branch of an oak tree near the house.  I recall an
evening twilight when one ventured on the lawn near the house-steps and called
lustily " Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!"  and after satisfying himself, he
flew to his companions in the swamp and soon the air was filled with their "
Whip-poor-will"! and "whip-will, the widow!"   Their concert lasted through
the night, interrupted occasionally by the deep, sonorous voice of an owl
loudly calling, " WHO! WHO! WHO! WHO! WHO! ARE YOU!".   The loud laugh of
another owl answered, " WAH! WAH! WAH!".   I would often lie awake 

(original page cut off) of sounds was inharmonious and weird; nevertheless, their
singing kept me from being lonely on wakeful nights.
 
 I can't leave this subject without taking you to the squabbery, which had to
be entered by climbing a stairway into a large room built in the poultry yard. 
It had hundreds of nests built in the wall.  I often went with Mary, the maid
to get squabs for breakfast and many were given to the neighbors.
 
 Other impressions of this home were the negro quarters which were a half-mile
from the house.  And there was a summer-house covered with coral and French
honeysuckle vines where the mocking birds often built their nests.  Also,
there were the flowers which grew profusely along the branch and filled the
air with their fragrance.
 
 These are the memories of my first home.
 

 THE MEMOIRS OF LOUISA GEORGE TOMPKINS 
 PART 2:  MIGRATION TO LOUISIANA
 
 
NOTE:  The first page of this chapter is missing.  She is evidently describing
the wonders of the new country in Louisiana which induced her father to sell
his home and migrate to Louisiana in 1848.
 
 _____________________contributant (bayous, creeks, and branches) flowing in
every direction, with cane breaks and swamps and filled with deer, bear
panthers, wolves; all of which helped to enhance the reports previously given
him by friends,---to say nothing of the natural growth of several kinds of
fruits and nuts.
 
 It is needless to say that the dear old home where my mother and father had
lived since their marriage and which had been the birthplace of their nine
children, was doomed.  Also, a beautiful new home near Marion, Alabama was
being completed.  This was a large, two-story house, quite modern in all its
appointments (for that time).  The inside work was superior to anything of its
kind today; the plastering was very hard and glazed.  The parlor and hall were
heavily frescoed around the edges of the ceiling, with a large wreath of
flowers in the center of each for the chandeliers.  My older sisters and
brothers were at the age when they needed to be in college, as they had
outgrown the country school.  To educate them had been the incentive for
building in Marion, as it was a residential city of schools and churches.

NOTE:The "beautiful new home near Marion, Alabama" was in Perry County AL, where they had been living. So it was a city home as compared to the plantation.

 
 But to my father, nothing was too great a sacrifice for this "Land of
Paradise" ,---not even the many friends and relatives with their earnest
protests, or his popularity as a minister of the gospel.  Nothing could
outweigh his desire to possess a home in this unexplored wilderness---a
venture of toil, self-denial, hardships, and untried experiences.  Without
taking it to the Lord in prayer, and seeking divine guidance of Him whom he
served, he straightway sold his valuable plantation and lovely new home at a
sacrifice, and was soon in readiness for the journey by caravan.  (bottom of
page of original cut off)

  parting with life-long friends, one of whom was her favorite sister for whom
I was named.  She had three sisters who were living in Louisiana, and also her
mother, near whom she expected to live.  But this pleasure could not
compensate for the pain of parting with that precious sister who lived but
three months more and whose death was mother's first great sorrow.
 
 Early in the spring of 1848, the day for departure arrived.  Three or four
families decided to cast their lot with us in going west, which at that time
was as far distant as is California now.  The trip had to be made in private
conveyances, drawn by horses and mules, and it would take weeks to reach our
destination.  Besides this, my father was taking with him 400 Durham cattle
which were to be driven by herdsmen.
 
 The caravan included about 50 covered wagons, carriages, carry-alls, and
buggies.  These and the horseback riders assembled at our home, and many
friends came to bid us "un bon voyage" .  How well do I remember that first
day, which to me seemed a gala affair with many more to follow.  I was too
young (six years) to realize what it meant to those on whom the burden fell,
nor what awaited us in the future.  The morning was bright and beautiful, and
although the sun gladdened the earth, it was unable to penetrate the gloom
which hung like a pall of dark foreboding in the hearts of some who
reluctantly bade a last farewell to loved ones.
 
 My mother rode in a carriage with four of her young children; a brother older
and a sister and brother younger than I.  The driver' s seat was high in
front, and in the style of the period, the nurse's seat was in the rear.  This
was supplied with a step or foot rest and arms, as with an armchair.  The
first day being cold and crisp, mother had the driver stop at a store as we
passed through Greensborough, and bought us children beautiful wool hoods and
each a tin cup, painted red and blue, with " Boy"  or " Girl"  stamped on it. 
These were suspended from our necks with ribbons.
 
 The caravan necessarily traveled slowly and when we children were tired of
riding, mother would let us get out and walk, always attended by the nurse. 
(Original page bottom cut off).
 
 Long before night, the captain, (father) always went ahead to find and
arrange for a suitable camp ground where wood and water could be obtained, for
provisions also to be made for the cattle as well as the teams of mules and
horses.  Having found such a place, he would wait for the crowd.
 
 The camp ground reached, the overseer of the negroes superintended the
location of wagons, tents, and animals.  The negroes' tents were grouped by
themselves and the white families were in a different location.  Each family
of negroes had its separate tent; each woman cooking for her own family, while
the men got the wood, attended to the feeding and caring for the stock and
pitched the tents.  There were log fires in front of family tents, and after
all were fed and the little children were in bed, the white families would
visit each other,---sit around and exchange experiences and jokes till nine or
ten o' clock.  The negroes would have their social time until the gong sounded
for retiring; after which quiet soon reigned, except for the occasional lowing
or neighing of an animal.  At five o' clock, the gong again sounded and all
were up and hustling with preparations to travel.  Then at noon, a stop for a
couple of hours was made, with rest and lunch for man and beast.
 
 We had to cross the Tombigbee River in Alabama which we found to be a
half-mile wide from recent rains.  It took two or three days to make the
crossing, for the cattle had to be ferried across.  Upon taking one load, the
cattle became frightened and stampeded, and several leaped from the flat-boat
and were carried by the swift current down stream, and two or three of these
were never recovered.
 
 Having surmounted this obstacle, we proceeded on our journey with nothing of
importance to note except that one night we camped in a lovely grove of oak
trees enclosed with a rail or worm fence.  A railroad track ran along the
outside of this enclosure, and we were warned not to cross the fence; that a
train would pass by very soon.  We hadn't waited long when a shrill whistle
heralded its approach.  We all stopped and gazed at the wonderful monster, as
it seemed to me, for in those days, railroads were rare to country people.
 
 At last we reached the Mississippi, which we crossed at Vicksburg on a
ferry (bottom of original page cut off) 

have been indelibly stamped on my

young mind.  We finally reached our destination which was a beautiful grove of

oak trees, in the midst of which was an eight-roomed cottage.  Also, there was
a summer-house covered with coral honeysuckle and woodbine and in the yard
there was an abundance of flowers.  My father had purchased this farm with 600
acres of improved land and under cultivation, to serve as a temporary home
until there were further developments.
 
 This home was three miles from Marion, a village in north Louisiana, in Union
Parish.  It was settled and named for Marion, Alabama by its earliest settlers
who had come from that place. 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF LOUISA GEORGE TOMPKINS
PART 3:  THE FIRST YEARS IN LOUISIANA

 Father had bought 4,000 acres of timbered land within four miles of Marion,
which was to be cleared and converted into a plantation,---with cottages for
the negroes, a dwelling for the overseer, and with gardens and outhouses. 
This kept all hands busy for the first year, with only time enough to
cultivate the 600 acres of the home place.

 Soon after being installed in our new home, my second brother (Frank, 17) and
brother Jefferson, 8 years old, started to school in Marion, riding horseback. 
Coming home one evening, the horse ran away with them; the saddle girth broke,
and my younger brother was dashed against a tree.  He lived only a few hours. 
Brother Frank (cousin Onie's father) after lingering between life and death
for several days finally survived.  This was mother's second deep sorrow. 
Indeed, to all the family, it was the darkest day we had ever known.
 
 In the Fall of that year, a baby girl was born to my oldest brother's wife. 
On being told that I was its aunt, I rose several degrees in self-importance
in the fact that I, six years old, was an aunt.  Seeing sister Mat (baby
Josephine's mother) tatting, I gave her no rest till she had taught me how to
do it and I persevered till I had made about a yard which satisfied me for
that time, but I never forgot how, and often used this knowledge along the way
of life.  It was soon after this that mother taught me to knit.  There was a
negro girl of my age (daughter of the milkmaid) whom mother was training for a
house-servant.  She was also taught to knit.  Mother would measure off five
yards of thread; tie a knot; and when we had finished this task we could play
for a half-hour; then she would call us and repeat the task.  We would race to
be the first to finish and in this way we became rapid knitters.  At the age
of seven, we could each knit stockings from the beginning to the end without
help.  Mother would have us knit the winter socks for the negro boys who
worked on the farm.  The thread was spun at home from wool sheared from the
flock of sheep,---a flock of four or five hundred.  My father had bought them
with the farm also, many hogs.  There were numerous milk cows, some of which
gave a large bucket of milk twice a day.
 
 The next Fall, found that much had been accomplished in clearing and
building, and by the time winter had set in, all the negroes were comfortably
housed with large fireplaces in their cabins and good beds and plenty of wood. 
For our family, a temporary dwelling had been built about a mile from the
plantation on a high hill with a good spring of water, and to the rear of the
house was a branch running in a ravine.  In the spring many wild-flowers
filled the air with their fragrance.
 
 After moving into this newly built forest home, five miles from town, my two
oldest sisters, Lizzie, 15 and Sue, 13 attended school in Marion, boarding at
the home of mother's brother, Uncle Dick Bass.  The carriage was sent for them
Friday afternoons, and took them back early Monday mornings.
 
 The Spring following, father began to build a residence in Marion, having
purchased 25 acres of land with a bold spring and a branch of fresh water
flowing from it, which soon ran through the horse-lot and orchard, all of
which was prearranged when planning the home surroundings.  Our parents were
bending every effort to hasten the time when we could move to town and get
those old enough into school.
 
 But alas! alas!  " Man proposes but God disposes."   Although our forest home
stood on a beautiful hill, with a spring of pure water,---and to all
appearances, a most healthful location, we little dreamed that an enemy was
lurking in the air, having risen from the low damp marshes and stagnant pools
of water which had not been drained; and that the dying vegetation was filling
the atmosphere with poisonous germs and these were inoculating almost every
member of the family (white and colored) with yellow fever germs.
 
 We were all infected about the same time the physicians advised the family's
removal to an old and settled place.  My grandmother's home was about four
miles distant,---and being unoccupied, we moved into it---carrying four sick
children on beds in a carry-all.  The children were a sister (Jane), my
brother Elias, a colored girl my age, and myself.  Two of the house servants
(Julia, the cook), and Mary, the house maid, were removed to the plantation. 
The gardener and the milkmaid escaped.  These along with two other women from
the farm went with the family as house servants and to help nurse the sick. 
Everyday, mother rode horse-back to visit Julia and Mary to see that they were
properly cared for.  Physicians attended them daily and every effort was made
to save them,---but all in vain.  Mother was heart-broken over this sad
calamity for they were almost like her own children, and they were devoted to
her.  The little negro girl my age who was taken to Grandma Bass's place, died
a few days later.  There were no trained nurses in those days, but the
neighbors did everything they could in caring for the sick.  In a pioneer
country, citizens were dependent upon each other in times of adversity.

---------------------------

A sad time, and more sickness occurs before recuperation begins for Louisa George, our narrator. This was in 1850.

Tomorrow I'll share a second chapter, but there will be several more about this interesting ancestor's life.

Sharing with Sepia Saturday.