Tag Archives: Doddridge County

Chapter 19 – Synopsis of My Teaching Career

April 19, 2009

So ended 51 terms of school teaching-27 in Ritchie County, 3 in Harrison County, 4 in Doddridge County, 1 in Taylor County, and 16 in Braxton County. I have taught about 1500 children. Very few teachers have had a chance to do more good to the rising generation. This was a long time to teach. During this time I have seen many changes.

When I began teaching, almost anyone who could answer the questions asked by the Board of Examination could get to teach-in fact, if they could answer three out of four. Often there was much cheating so that many teachers could not work fairly simple problems in arithmetic and knew nothing about history. I remember well in my first exam that one question was, “How many teeth has an adult?” A young fellow asked the examiner, “What is an adult?” The reply was, “What do you think it is?” The boy replied, “I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe it was a sick person.” I am glad to say he did not get a grade.

At the time I began teaching, there were no teachers in Ritchie County with a degree except the principal of a large high school. I doubt if there were any, or very few, teaching in the rural schools who were high school graduates. The rural schools were all one-room schools. In fact, they didn’t begin to consolidate schools and haul the children in buses for 30 years. How many of the teachers now are not only high school and normal graduates, but have a degree!

The salary for a First Grade was seldom over $30 per month for a term of four months. When in 1903 they increased the school term to five months, they cut the salary to $23 per month. After paying your board, you had less than $100 for five months’ teaching. You ask why any one would teach for that? The answer is easy-there was no work you could get during the bad winter months, and it was an honor to be a teacher. When school was out, you could raise a crop or get a job on a farm (farming was about the only work to be had in the rural sections). Your school gave you a little cash, for money was scarce.

After World War I teachers’ wages were raised to $108 per month, which seemed like a princely wage. But this did not equal the wages paid in factories. Many teachers went to the cities, and there was trouble to get teachers in many sections. They had to take boys and girls without any preparation who did not intend to make it a life work but merely wanted to make some easy money, not caring whether the children learned anything or not.

I will tell a story one teacher told me. She passed a school house early in the fall, about 1:30 p.m. The teacher had on a man’s white shirt and a pair of slacks, with her feet on the desk, leaning back against the wall sound asleep. Probably she was happy!

The wages in Union District, Ritchie County, were always low until the county was made a school unit and a minimum wage was set in 1919. The towns had paid much higher wages, but this law did away with independent districts, which pleased me for I hated for them to feel that they could laud it over us rural teachers.

Stories Told by County Superintendents: I will tell a few stories told by county superintendents. There was a time when there was a blank space after each name on the register for the teacher to make remarks about the pupil. One teacher wrote, “Kissed the teacher three times.” After another name was written, “The prettiest girl in school.” The same superintendent read us a report from one teacher of an attendance of 200% (this was better than I ever could do). All of this shows that many teachers were lacking in education, judgment, and good common sense,

Another superintendent told me of visiting a school which showed lack of order and any sign of teaching ability. All at once a big boy in the back of the house yelled out, “Gobbler,” (the teacher’s name was Garber) “what time is it?” After school was out, the teacher said he was going into something that would pay him better than teaching. The superintendent told him that was the thing to do.

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Chapter 11 – Our Children

April 19, 2009

Brady was born: It was July 28, 1896, when our first child (Brady) was born. There was no milk for him and neither of our cows’ milk was fit for him, so Watie got on a horse and swam the river to get milk for him. He was so hungry that he took two bottles of milk, then went to sleep and slept like a pig.

Pine Grove School, 1897: The spring of 1897 I taught a select school of small children in the old Pine Grove meeting house. I had a fair-sized school, which paid me well. They were a bunch of bright children and did good work. One day Jennie taught, and some of the larger girls tried to scare the little children by telling them they saw a ghost. John Bee (the doctor’s boy) just said, “All magination, all magination.” I enjoyed this school very much.

Lower Bone Creek School, 1897-1899: The next two winters I taught the Lower Bone Creek School. The winter before a girl had taught it, and she had not been able to manage it at all. They would not mind her at all and annoyed her every way they could. I had no trouble and enjoyed it very much.

February 12, 1898, was the coldest time I ever saw. It was clear as could be, but the air was full of frost-that is, the moisture in the air was frozen into snowflakes. I had a black cow in a barn by herself, and she was covered with frost until she was white. We could hear the trees cracking in every direction. I had to go one-half mile to feed my sheep, milk the cows, and feed the stock, and then go to school. It was 10 a.m. when I got to school, but there was no one there. The fire builder had stock to feed by the school house; so he had built a fire, fed the stock, and gone home for his breakfast. In one-half hour one came; in an hour three more came; and at noon Rupert and Arlie came. So we had six that afternoon-all boys. It registered 44 degrees below zero. Most of the orchards in the valleys were killed. All of the beech trees half way up the hills were killed, and nearly all of the dogwoods also were killed. Nothing like this was ever seen here before nor since. That afternoon it got much warmer, and by Monday the snow was gone and it was warm and nice.

Measles Outbreak: Erlo Sutton came to the last day of school that spring with an awful cold, felt bad all day, and in the morning he had the measles. He gave them to everyone he saw that day, which was at least 75. One girl about 15 in my school died; also, an old lady in Berea. Jennie, Brady, and I had them at the same time. Erlo had no idea where he got them. The next spring the trustees asked me to close the school a day early to avoid the danger of spreading disease.

Farming Enterprises: That spring I cut the dead trees on a field for Ellsworth and raised a fine crop of corn; it was worth only 35 cents a bushel when I husked it. Some different from what it is now!

In the fall of 1898 I bought an interest in a cane mill with Dad Sutton and made molasses until late fall. The next fall we began to make molasses the 29th of August and finished the 6th of October. After that we never made so many, for people quit raising cane. I enjoyed it, but it was hard work. We would begin before daylight and work until 9 or 10 at night.

About this time I bought an interest in a reaper and binder with Ellsworth. We did a lot of work for three years. Then people began to quit raising so much wheat; and I sold my share to Uncle Sam Stalnaker.

The Stansburry School, 1899-1900: In the school year of 1899-1900 I taught on Spruce (the Stansburry School, and may I receive forgiveness for teaching in such a place). There was just one family which was interested in an education (George Brissey’s), and they were the only ones coming at the end of the term. Mr. Brissey said he always had to furnish all the scholars the last month of school.

I had 59 in school, and 19 of them were in the first grade. Of these one was a 16-year-old boy who was almost as heavy as I was One was a girl of 6 who wasn’t larger than a pound of soap after a hard day’s washing or a minute and it half gone.

The most of these first graders had no book but a speller! I told each of them to ask their parents to get them a First Reader, for I couldn’t teach little folks in the speller. The next morning I asked the children what their parents said. Some said their mother said she would get a reader that day; others said she would get one at the end of the week. The little girl before mentioned said that her mother said whenever they learned what there was to learn in the speller, she would get them a reader. I thought, “Poor kids; they will never see a reader.” Their father was working in Ohio. When he came home, he got them a reader. Think of a country school of eight grades and 19 in the first grade!

Now this little girl I wrote about had a sister 7 and a brother 8, and the girls were too mean to live. One day I was hearing a class when they got very much amused, and I asked what was the matter. One of the class told me that Flossie was spitting on Donie; so I told Flossie to go up and sit on my seat. She began to cry and said, “Donie was spitting on me, too.” I then told Donie to go up and sit there too, which tickled her for she thought she would have a lot of fun. But when I told her I would sit between them, she said, “No.” I tried to get her to sit on the bench, but she wouldn’t so I held her on my lap. She fought and kicked and tried to bite, but I just held her while she yelled, “Let me down mister; let me down.” I held her for about a quarter of an hour; then she sat on the seat all right. They did not come back, and the mother said I was holding the girls on my lap so she had to keep them at home. When the father cane home, he sent them back.

They were liars and had little idea of honor or right. I don’t think they were as much immoral as they were unmoral. They had a very low order of intelligence; in fact, they did not want to know much. I will give one instance of lying without cause or reason. A boy got mad at a boy behind him for putting his feet under his desk and said to him, “If you don’t keep back, I’ll cut your guts out.” I whipped him. A girl got excused to go home at recess (she was 14 years old) and stopped at a house on her way home and told them we had had an awful time up there that afternoon. She said that Okey Bird had taken a knife and ripped Russell Haddox right down his belly and then cut him right across. Of course, she was bound to have known they would find out she was lying, but she just wanted to tell a lie-probably to keep in practice, but I don’t think she needed any practice.

I had trouble with a McDonald who told that I had hurt one of his boys seriously. I sent him word to show up or shut up. When I saw him, he agreed to shut up. Of course, he didn’t, because that is not the nature of such people. But it did me no harm, for I still got schools without any trouble.

Harold was born-January 1, 1900. He was a very happy little fellow who endeared himself to everyone. Of course, we did not know that he would not be with us for only two short years. (If we could only know about these things, we might be so different.)

Lower White Oak School, 1900-1901: This next summer I bought the Parker place of Aunt Polly Kelley and moved over there that fall. I taught the Lower White Oak School the winter of 1900 and 1901. This was a rather long trip, but I had a very nice school. I had a very nice First Reader class of four. They each tried very hard to be the best in the class, so I told them one day that the next day I would tell them which was the best. The next day they were all excited about who would get the honor of being the best in the class. Of course, I was likely to get in bad; but just watch what I told then. I told them that the best one in the class was the one that studied the hardest. Everyone was happy, and each one studied his best to let no one in ahead of him. One has to try many things to get the best results.

Watie and Elzie Sutton (Jennie’s brothers): Watie came home from New York with Maggie this winter. They lived in Berea for a while, and Watie got a job with Fox and Meredith. The next summer he got a chance to buy Steve Bee’s farm by the Deep Ford. I got the money for him to pay for it. He stayed here until he went to work for Flanigan. From there he went to Doddridge County to an oil pumping job, which he kept till he retired. He was a hard-working, honest, truthful man who could be depended upon every time. He and I were great friends. Every time I go to Salem, I go to see Wilma, who is his only daughter and a very nice woman with a very nice family.

While I am writing about Watie, I will also write about Elzie, who was one of the finest boys one would want to see. He went to Salem when he was a young man and went to work for Uncle Lloyd Randolph about 1902. He then went to work in Uncle James’ store. He stayed there until Uncle James broke up, when he went to work as a carpenter. In the meantime he married Ethel Lynch. He was so industrious that he exposed himself by working in the rain to finish a job and took pneumonia, which ran into tuberculosis. He went to Colorado, where he lived for ten years. Ethel and two girls are still living in Boulder, Colorado. Ethel is very industrious, saving, and a fine manager. She is a loyal worker in the Seventh Day Baptist Church at Boulder. Bobbie (the third boy) died at Berea nearly fifty years ago.

Typhoid Malaria: In the summer of 1901 Jennie was very sick for several weeks, so that we had to have a hired girl. Watie and I raised a big patch of cane, and it was very fine. A good deal of the cane was down, and it rained nearly every day. We were wet nearly all the time while we stripped it. There was lots of typhoid fever in the neighborhood, and I felt sure I was taking it. So I went to the doctor and got some dope before we got the molasses made. We had 115 gallons.

Sabbath noon, after we got through, I took a chill, went to bed and sent for the doctor. He said I had typhoid malaria. As soon as the doctor said I had the fever, the girl went home. Jennie could just walk about the house a little, and Brady was five years old. John came down that evening and gave me a sponge bath. He said he would be back the next night, but the next night he had the fever. Ellsworth had always helped, but Arley and Aunt Mat each had the fever, so they couldn’t help. The neighbors were so afraid that they would not come near. A neighbor boy (Creed Collins) came and offered to go and get me a school (I had no school), but he would not come into the house. He got me the Upper White Oak School. I was glad for that friend.

Brady gave me the medicine and water, and Mama got us something to eat. I was up in two weeks. It was in late September, and I had to stay in bed for a few days as there was no wood to warm the house until Riley Davis (our pastor) came down and cut some wood. A friend in need is a friend indeed, so I have never forgotten Creed Collins and Riley Davis.

One more I must mention. Someone (I never found out who) went to one of my trustees and told him that I had got me another school. At the same time I was in bed with the fever Tom Bee was carrying the mail in that neighborhood, so they came to the post office to ask him. He told them I had the fever, but when the time came I would be there and teach them a good school. The first chance I got, I thanked him for it; I have thought more of him ever since. Jennie’s father had the fever, and I went there and waited on them. I think there is where I got it. There were over 30 cases of fever about Berea that summer and fall, and only one death.

Whooping Cough-Harold Died, Ashby was Born: I had a fairly nice school this winter. But it was a very sad winter, for Brady and Harold got the whooping cough. When I came home at the end of the week (January 17) Harold did not come to meet me. Jennie said he was sick, that she had had the doctor and that he said it was brain fever. Just one week later (the day Ashby was born) Harold died. That was a sad day for us. We kept Brady in another room in hopes Ashby would not catch the whooping cough. It worked, and Ashby did not get it.

We had a very nice girl (Edna Campbell) working for us. Brady would get lonesome as he could not go into the room where Jennie was; so Edna would take him up and sing to him. In fact, she taught him to sing.

This winter I boarded with a Baker near the school. They had five children in school. Mrs. Baker would help them in their studies every evening after supper. There were three in the same class, and the youngest was the best of the three. They treated me very well.

Middle Fork School: The next winter I taught on Middle Fork. The winter before a girl had taught who could do nothing with the children at all. When she said anything to the big girls, they would jump up, shove up their sleeves, and tell her to look at their muscles and that she couldn’t do anything with them. They took a B-B gun to school, put a mark on the blackboard and shot at it in time of school. I soon tamed them some and had a very nice school.

I fixed up a house on Elva and Dow’s farm and lived there as it was too far to go from home and there was a river to cross. This was a very pleasant winter for us although there was some deep snow and some cold weather. We were all well and happy. We kept the house good and warm, with the best hickory wood you ever saw; and we had plenty to eat. So what more could anyone want?

Friends in Ritchie County: Yes, and we had good friends near, which made it still nicer. I wonder if we ever appreciate friends as we should. We have always had friends, but I still think of the friends back in Ritchie-Mr. Haddix, Mr. Colgate, John Meredith, Mintee Fox, Mr. Wagoner, John Bee, all the Maxsons, Jack Hudkins, Mr. Kelly, Karl Bee, Art Brissey, Maynard Brissey-yes, and so many more that I can’t begin to name them all. But I must mention Uncle Frank and Uncle Herman, Reuben and Albert Brissey, Ves Collins. Yes, and I mustn’t forget Jess Kelley, with whom we used to hunt so much.

Sun Rise School-Avis was Born, October 30, 1903: The next winter I taught at the Sun Rise School. This was a long trip, so when Marshal Ehret wanted us to move into his house and feed his cattle and let me have hay for my horse, I agreed and moved up there. Before we could move, our only girl (Avis) was born. We had a very pleasant and profitable winter there.

I will tell one thing that happened at the house while I was at school. The stove pipe went up through the roof without any flue. One day when Jennie was alone with the baby, she saw that the roof was afire. The spring was a quarter of a mile from the house. She had a pan of dish water on the table and a rung ladder set against the side of the house. She grabbed the pan, climbed the roof, threw water on the fire, and put the most of it out. Then she took her hands and scraped the coals off the shingles. She burned her hands some, but she saved the house. This took lots of grit, but she did it. The baby was only a month or six weeks old.

We did not take our cows with us as there were several there. He promised to pay for the feed for the hens if they didn’t lay enough to pay. Snow came right away, and they didn’t lay enough to amount to anything; in fact, not a dozen all winter. He did not pay me anything as he said he had left some flour and meal, which he thought would pay for the hen feed. This was no pay at all, but I didn’t say anything as I expected to stay there some more because it was handy. I fed nearly 30 head of of cattle and calves. He came out and saw his stock just before school was out and was very well pleased with them. School went very well; but, as in most of the schools, some of the children would not try to learn.

Father Died, Fall 1903: The fall of 1903 Father came to Salem for Conference, where he and many others got ptomaine poison. He got better and came out to Berea. On the train he got worse and was never out of bed after he got to Ellsworth’s. We had two doctors, but they could do nothing. As the children were all there except Virgil and Cleo, they decided to settle the estate at once. There was no will nor debts, so each would share alike. Mother Randolph said she only wanted enough to keep her while she lived; if the children would give her 4 percent of their share per year, she would be satisfied. This was very generous of her, and I feel sure the children all appreciated it.

Ashby had Scarlet Fever, 1904: We went to Commencement at Salem in 1904 and left the children at their grandpa’s. When we came back, Ashby had the scarlet fever. He was very bad for two weeks. In fact, it did not look like he could live at all. He did not cry or make any noise except when we doctored him, which was every half hour; then he would make a very peculiar noise. When he began to get better, he was too cranky to live. When we gave him a drink in a cup, if he wanted it in a glass, he would throw it as hard as he could. If he wanted it in a cup and we brought it in a glass, the same thing happened-we never knew which one he wanted.

The first day I left the house I went a half mile to hoe my corn and stayed all day. When I got home, I found Jennie scared nearly to death. Aunt Sarah Colgate had been there and told her Ashby was deaf, for he wouldn’t notice when they called to him; in fact, he wouldn’t notice anything they said or did. I told her of course he would do nothing they wanted him to do. This did not convince her, so I stepped out in the dark, picked up a board, hit the side of the house; and he nearly jumped out of the cradle. This settled the question of his hearing. He did have a lot of trouble with his ears and nose that fall and later. I think this will be enough about Ashby for the present.

Ellsworth died in 1905: Ellsworth did not have his farm all paid for. He told me in the spring of 1904 that he could pay out by selling his stock. He was killed in the spring of 1905 logging for Zeke Bee. This changed many things for me, as we had always worked together. I would help him when he needed help, and he would help me.  When Blondie was a very sick baby, we went night after night and sat up with him. Then when Ashby had scarlet fever, they came for two weeks and sat up with him. As I said before, “Never did any one have a better brother”. It was during this winter that Ashby was so very sick that he would not notice anything. We were alone for two or three days, but Ellsworth came up as soon as they heard of it and stayed all night. It was this night that he really began to improve. When something did not suit him, he cried for the first time he had made any noise for three days. Never was there a brother that stood by better than Ellsworth.

Middle Fork School: That winter I taught again at Middle Fork. A young man had taught the winter before. He had paid attention to Ada Knight, which had made the Zinn girls very angry. When school began, I found that I had a job on my hands. If I smiled at the Zinn girls, the Knight girl wanted to kill me; if I smiled at the Knight girl, the Zinn girls would try to kill me. They would not sit near each other at class. In two months they decided that Zinns and Knights were all the same to me; so we got along all okay.

One boy gave me a lot of trouble the first winter. He was easily influenced, and a big boy and girl put him up to mischief. But the second winter I got him interested. He studied hard and decided to go on to Salem, which he did and got a good education. I am always very glad when I can get a boy or girl interested in going ahead to school. I feel the school a failure if no one is inspired to go ahead along the road toward education. Every teacher should be able to fill his pupils with such a thirst for knowledge that they will never be satisfied until they have drunk deep of that fountain. I am proud of the fact that I have inspired many to go on in their studies. I am especially proud of the fact that, where no one had ever gotten a diploma from the eighth grade in one school in Braxton County, now more than a dozen have finished high school. I am proud because I know that I was directly responsible-but more of this later.

My First State Teaching Certificate, 1905: My certificate expired in 1905, and I did not try for a school. In July Mr. Mason sent me word to come up and get the Sun Rise School. He said that Port Campbell was wanting the school but that the district did not want him. Mr. Mason, Mr. Hayden, and Mr. Campbell were the trustees. Mr. Campbell could not help hire Port, so he resigned and tried to get someone else appointed who would help Mr. Hayden hire Port. Mr. Hayden said he would be glad to sign my contract. I went up to see Mr. Mason and then to Mr. Hayden. We ran him down, and he squirmed like possessed. At last he said that I could have the school, so I got a certificate. This was my first state certificate.

When Port heard I got the school, he said I could not get a certificate for I couldn’t get anything on “Grammar.” He got 65 percent on grammar, and I got 93 percent. He said the grammar didn’t suit him. It sure didn’t. Since that time Port and I have been good friends.

In spite of all handicaps, I had a fairly nice school; indeed, it was above the average, so I think.

Working in New York for Gene Jordan

Randal was Born: On February 3, 1906, our fourth son (Randal) was born. He was a delicate baby; soon after we got to New York he had a serious case of pneumonia. We were lucky to get a very fine doctor for children (Dr. Loughbead), who fixed a formula for feeding him, and he did much better on it. He was a Seventh Day Baptist at Nile, and we were very lucky that we got him.

We sold some of our household goods and left some. Very little of what we left was to be found when we got back. We took some bedding with us, but little else. The weather was fine, and we had a very nice trip. A livery man took us from Cuba (seven miles) to Gene’s. We stayed there for over a month before they could get our house ready. We had a fairly comfortable house to live in. We put in several potatoes and some corn. Gene drilled a gas well near our house, but it was not much good. Soon after this, he got a contract to drill several wells in Pennsylvania. The boys went down there with him.

He bought a new horse and came up to start harvest. When he tried to work the horse, it proved to be an awful kicker. He went back and told me to work her and they would come back and help me put the hay up when I got a lot of it cut down. They came back and put up 35 acres. He had 30 acres he wanted to get put up on the shares. I told him Brady and I could put it up (Brady was nearly 10 years old). We put the 30 acres up, for which I think Brady got about $7. This wasn’t much, but it was dear gain, and it paid Gene very well.

In the early fall Gene’s family went down to Pennsylvania. We spent the winter in their home so we would have a warmer house and be closer to the feeding and milking. We had a fine lot of winter apples. I had so much work to do and no help that I only got a start when 8 inches of snow came (the 8th of October). It only lasted a day or two, when I went on with the picking. Before I got them picked, we had hard freezing. I would just wait till they thawed out and go on picking. I finally got them all in the cellar, and we had apples till after the middle of July. Two years later the tenant did not get the apples picked till after a freeze and lost them all.

The first summer we were there, Brady caught 25 woodchucks. He would hide near their den, wait till they got away from it, then beat them to it and get them. There are a great many woodchucks in New York.

Brady had a lot of trouble in school. Some of the larger boys would beat up on him, and the teacher would just laugh at him. I, or we, got tired of this (he was having a headache all the time) and took him out of school. The teacher reported him, and the truant officer came. I was prepared for trouble, but he said that the former teacher, who lived in the district, told him the way Brady was treated and said she would not send him a day. A neighbor told him it was a shame the way he was treated and that the trustee said he told one of the boys to let Brady alone, but the boy said he would do as he pleased and he couldn’t help it. The teacher denied this, but the officer told her if she wouldn’t take care of the children he wouldn’t make them come. So he said he would get his stepson, who was a doctor, to give him an excuse. The teacher tried again, but the officer paid no attention. He told her he didn’t do his work twice.

Trading a Kicking Horse: I spoke of a horse that could kick. We called her Maud, and she could kick! She took it by spells. Sometimes she would work for several days without kicking any; then she would kick things all to pieces for a few days. Oh, she was a honey! I saw a man in Nile who wanted to trade for her. I told him she would kick some but that I had worked her at everything I tried but one and that was plowing. He wanted to know what she did. I told him she kicked, ran back, acted the fool, and did everything but plow but if we didn’t trade, I would plow her. We traded even, and he had new shoes put on the horse I got. The blacksmith where we traded told me that the man I traded with said he wouldn’t take less than $125 for her. There was a number by, and he thought he would have some fun at my expense. I just looked at him and said if she had suited me I would not have taken less than that, but she did not suit me so I let her go. The crowd roared. I never saw the man I traded with again, but I learned he was a regular horse trader so I presume he came out all right. The horse I got was a fine worker but very slow, so I came out all right, thank goodness,

Ashby and Avis: The first summer we were at Gene’s, Ashby and Avis went with me up there (Ashby was 4 and Avis was 2). When I got the team ready to go to work, I told them to run on home, which was one-fourth mile away. It was thundering, and they were afraid; so Cleo went along. Avis said, “We’s too good for thunder to hurt us, ain’t we, Auntie?” They were very good just then.

This next story was told by a doctor. He asked Cleo about her little children. She said she had no little children; they were all grown up. Then he told her that he was going by there the year before when he saw two little children playing in a swamp and he said to them, “What are you doing, little children?” The boy said, “We are catching bullfrogs.” Then the little girl piped up, “You mustn’t say that, Ippie; you must say cow frog.” Cleo knew who they were, for Avis always said “Ippie.”

Ashby had a lot of trouble with a gobbler that Cleo had. He could make it too much for Ashby. Gene had a collie pup he called Romulus which thought a lot of Ashby. Whenever the turkey would see Ashby, he would jump on him, and Ashby would say, “Come on here, Romulus, he’s coming.” Romulus would right off and run the turkey away. As soon as the turkey saw the dog was gone, back he would come; and the same talk would happen again, “Come on back here; he is coming again.” He never called for any of us to help, and the dog always ran the turkey away.

Back to West Virginia, Fall 1907

It was not a very successful year. The cows Gene bought did not prove to be fresh in the spring, as the man he bought them of said they would. We did not get much milk (which is the chief money crop in that neighborhood). Jennie was sick most of the summer and fall, and things did not look good for the future. Therefore we decided to come back to West Virginia, which we did in the fall of 1907. I sold the team and some other stuff to the renter Gene got to take our place. Gene took the man’s note for the team. For the rest of the things I got some money, a cheap railroad ticket, and a little surplus which he promised to send-but of course he never did. On the whole I made a good deal with the man, so I never worried about the unpaid balance.

Coon Hunting before We Left New York: The renter said he had a good coon dog, so Gene and the boys and I went out before we left. We got a coon in a little while, and later we treed another in a slump of trees. We decided to watch it. As it began to get daylight, we decided the coon had gotten away, so we started home. But the dog struck a track right away and in a few moments treed. Gene said he saw one and shot it out. I told him to let me have the gun, and I shot another one. This made us three coons in one night, which we thought was quite good.

We stayed in a hotel the first night in Pittsburgh. The next evening Elva met us at Pennsboro with a wagon. We lived in a house on Uncle Elisha’s farm, where he had lived for many years. I taught the Upper Otter Slide school. This was a very pleasant school with one exception. Tom Gribble got mad at me about his son Paulie and took him out of school. He raised a fuss about my being partial toward my children. I called the trustees in and demanded a hearing. They failed to get Tom to come, so they came in and told the school that there was nothing to what he was telling so I let it go. The trustees were Al Kelley, Tom Ward, and I’ve forgotten the other one. Tom Gribble objected to Ashby’s going as he wasn’t quite 6 (Tom sent his children before they were 5, and Ashby was there once).

More about Ashby and Avis: As I have already said, Ashby did not go to school the latter part of December and until January 24. One cold day Jennie got to wondering what the two were doing. She found them playing meeting. Ashby was the leader, and he told Avis to get up and speak. She said, “I don’t know what to say.” He told her to get up and say, “The Lord has gone from me, and the crows are carrying my chickens away.” How quickly children can learn to imitate older people!

Avis was very successful in getting her way with children, but Ashby had a fine way to get her to do as he wanted her to. He would say, “Avis, if you don’t do this, I won’t watch the snakes off of you.” She would always say, “I’ll do it, Ippie, if you’ll watch the snakes off of me.” She feared snakes very much and was certain that Ashby could keep them off of her. Children are so trusting, but they soon learn to doubt us for we fail to do as we say exactly all the time.

Randal Died: We were to move into Pa Sutton’s house in Berea as soon as school was out. Aunt Rachel had not moved out yet, so we had to wait a few days. I was working for Dow and had just gotten back to work after dinner when we heard Jennie calling that Randal (our baby of two years) was dying. She had carried him for about one-half mile. He was dead. Jennie thought he had choked to death, but he hadn’t. He had taken some kind of fit or spasm and died without a struggle. Had he choked, he would have struggled for breath and his face would have turned black, none of which happened. He had never been strong. We were glad he went without suffering rather than being sick and suffering for weeks. It was a terrible blow to us, especially to Jennie. Although she did not talk much about it, I doubt if she really got over it until after the birth of Elmo. Even now it is a sad thing to write about, so I will write no more about it.

A Big Bass: We moved to Berea and raised a garden down at the Polly Place as well as in Berea. One day Brady and I were down there working in the garden when Brady got tired and wanted to go down to the river. He said he heard a big fish on the riffle. I told him to go on as he had worked very well, and I thought he was tired. As soon as he got down there, he began to holler, “Come down here quick! There’s a big fish here.” I knew there was no big fish that we could catch, but I went to please the kid. When I got there, what do you suppose I found-a bass one-half as long as your arm in a hole of water 10 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 6 inches deep, with very shallow water on each side.

I told Brady to drive him up to the upper end where I had put a cross tie so he couldn’t get away, and I would kill him with a club. I didn’t think he would go below, but he seemed to be afraid of me and only came part way. All at once he went by Brady on the dead run. I yelled at him, “Now you let him get away.” The water was so shallow that he had to turn on his side and flop. Brady rushed for it and hit it on the head with all his might. That was the end of the bass! It was 18 3/4 inches and weighed 3 lbs. 14 oz. and made more than we could all eat in a meal.

A Home in Berea; Lower Room at Berea School: That fall I sold the Polly Place and bought the house and lots where we lived in Berea. I got the lower room to teach at Berea, and Ernest Campbell was principal. I did not ask for a place at Berea. When the one they gave the lower room to would not teach, I got it and had a very nice time. I had to teach the first five grades as Ernest would only teach three. He would not try to keep his boys from running over those in my room. One day at noon my room and some of the upper room were playing trim a Christmas tree when Orin Hammond came down and began to tear it up. Then Hose Brake made for him, and they had a time. Orin never bothered my kids again.

I had a bunch of girls from 8 to 10 who were said to be so badly spoiled that they could hardly be controlled. I found them as good students and as nice to get along with as one could ask. They were Guerney Brake, Jessie Hayhurst, May Douglas, Darla Bee and some others. They would do anything I wanted them to do. They each wanted to do more than the others. This winter Guerney Brake came to school the first day with the mumps. We all had them but me, and I still have not had them. Brady had them very hard, for he took a backset on them.

Auburn School, 1909: The summer of 1909 I taught a school for advanced scholars in Auburn. I had a large school, which paid me quite well. I had 40 students. I did so well with the lower room that they gave me the principal’s place the next winter. This was a much harder job, but I got along fairly well. I got the ill will of Tom Jackson and Ell Douglas, which caused me a considerable trouble.

The Grange: About 1908 they organized a Grange, which did a lot of good for a few years. Two years we had a Farmers’ Institute with fine speakers from other parts of the state. This was very fine. Then for two falls we had a Farmers’ Picnic with fine speakers. The fall of 1912 we had five or six of the best speakers in Ritchie and one (a very able speaker) from another section. There were hundreds of people there, and it was a very successful affair. I was lecturer and had charge of the program, and I think I had a small part in its success. We tried to start a Grange store. We bought a suitable building and lumber to fix it up, but we failed to find a manager. We sold the property, lumber and all so that we did not lose anything. Mr. Wagoner moved away, we went to Salem, and the Grange died.

Building onto our Home: After finishing my school at Auburn, I decided to add another story to my house as it was a one-story house. I took some of the ceiling and upper floor from the Polly House, which I still owned. This was red oak and hard maple, very fine, tongued and grooved. I also bought some fine dressed lumber at a sale very cheap. This way I was able to have a good two-story house.

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Chapter 4: Our Wedding and Early Married Years

April 6, 2009

Ashby’s Memories

It must have been at the Christmas vacation when I went to see Ruth at her home near Roanoke. We had been engaged since September and were expecting to marry in June after graduation. All of a sudden one evening we decided it would be better to marry December 23 so we would have the Christmas vacation together.

The 23rd came–a snow-covered, icy, cold day. I had just recovered from a short sick spell. I don’t remember how I got to Clarksburg, but I know I went to Weston on the trolley. Ruth met me at the station. We hurried to the courthouse, where we got our license and got back to the trolley station in less than one-half hour so we could catch the next trolley to Lost Creek. At Lost Creek we went to Pastor H. C. Van Horn’s, where he married us in the parsonage.

We caught the next streetcar to Clarksburg. Everett Williams and Ruth’s sister Susie met us in their big Oldsmobile and took us to my home in Salem. Before we met Everett, we hunted a restaurant and ate ice cream on raisin pie. For many years raisin pie with ice cream on it, if possible, was a special anniversary treat.

It was a very short two-week vacation, mostly spent at Ruth’s home playing Rook with my new in-laws and Ruth’s neighbors and relatives. We had the luck of the Irish–never losing a match.

Ruth’s Memories

That summer of 1925, 1 completed my Standard Normal. One of my good friends from West Milford and I were hired to teach the two room school at Kennedy Station near Jackson’s Mill. We were real excited about it.

Ashby and I had been corresponding since I had sent him a Christmas card. I saw him a time or two while I was in school at Salem College that summer. He was kept quite busy all that summer trying to save up enough money to go to school and get his Standard Normal the next summer.

Ada was teaching at Mt. Clare that year, and Lydia was teaching in Clarksburg. They were both staying with Susie and Everett (also his father and sister were staying there). Their schools started one week earlier than my school was to start in Lewis County. They had just started their school when llama fell and hurt her hip so badly she could not do her work. Someone had to stay at home and help out. Ada and Lydia were both willing to come back,, but I was already there and had time to notify my Board of Education so they could hire someone to take my place. Papa favored that plan, too. (Perhaps he was thinking he, too, might have some help.)

I really enjoyed being home. After Ashby enrolled in college, he came up home for the weekend once a month. We were engaged that fall but did not plan to be married until he finished school in June.

Main was teaching near home that year. We had a lot of pleasant evenings playing Rook with Harvey and Vesta Heavener. Most of the time they came down home.

Ada and Lydia gave me $25 a month for spending money, so I got along real well.

Our Wedding, December 23, 1925.

Christmas vacation started December 18 that year,-and Ashby came up home for the weekend. Sunday afternoon we decided it would be much more fun to spend most of the vacation together. He had to go home Monday, and we planned to meet in Weston on Wednesday at the streetcar terminal.

Tuesday Lydia and I took the train to Weston. We shopped around for a new dress, then went to our cousin Aura Tillman’s to stay overnight. (It was good winter weather–about a foot of snow was on the ground, but the streets were well cleared.)

We met Ashby at ten o’clock as planned and went to the court house to get our license (quite simple in our day!). We got back to the streetcar terminal in time to get on the same car he had come on.

We stopped over at Lost Creek and went to the Seventh Day Baptist parsonage. Ashby had stopped there on his way home on Monday and made arrangements, but he had not told the pastor who the bride would be. H. C. Van Horn was one surprised man when he met us at the door! He had marriage certificates, but he said had he known it was for me he would have had a much nicer one. His wife and daughter were the only witnesses. Orville was living about three miles away. He got to Lost Creek in time to wish us well before we left on the next streetcar to Clarksburg.

It was about noon when we got to Clarksburg, but we were not very hungry. We decided to just get raisin pie with ice cream.

We went to Everett and Susie’s home on Broadus Avenue. He had said he would take us to Salem to Ashby’s home. He had the car all decorated and a “Just Married” sign on the back. He drove slowly through Salem, but there was scarcely anyone on the street. Ashby’s family made me feel much a part of the family–and that feeling remains.

Elmo and some of his friends on the hill serenaded us that night.

The next morning we took the nine o’clock train to Clarksburg, then on to Roanoke, arriving about 2 p.m. Main met us at the train. We were busy the rest of the day making popcorn balls and candy to have ready for the serenaders that night.

We played Rook a lot that vacation, and “Luck” was with us most of the time. All too soon, vacation was over; and Ashby was back in school.

Our First Year of Marriage

Ashby’s Memories — Completing My Standard Normal Degree.

Soon I was back in school, leaving my queen at her home because she had to take care of her mother (who had hurt her hip). I did go back some weekends, and Ruth came to my home for a week after her mother got well enough to get around to do the housework. She also came to my graduation. In this third graduation on the Salem College stage, I played a doctor in our play.

Our first home.

When school was out, we moved into an old two story house with Aunt Jane Bond, where we lived in the lower story. It was a nice piece of ground with about an acre of garden and two acres for corn. Besides this farming, I had two jobs. I pitched about fifteen stacks of hay for Henry Watson. Then I got a job with a construction company,making the culverts for Route 19 from Weston to Roanoke.

This company also had a factory that made round culverts. One extremely hot day they took us away from making forms for a culvert to unload a steel gondola railroad car. The sun was so hot we could not put a hand on the car. We shoveled the gravel with a scoop shovel. Mr. Peters, one of the owners, told us he wanted it unloaded that day to save a holdover charge. He also came from the factory every little bit and shoveled like a house afire. I tried to shovel as fast as he did, even while he got his breaks. We had it unloaded by four o’clock; then we went with Mr. Rhodes, the other owner, to the culvert job. Mr. Rhodes told me to sit in the shade under a maple tree; I guess he could see I had a severe sick headache.

Teaching at Shady Grove School.

School time came again. I had to leave Ruth at her home at Roanoke while I stayed at my home in Salem and taught the Shady Grove School. This school was five miles from home by walking paths across the hills that cut miles from the way by roads.

Our first new car.

When I went to see Ruth over the first weekend, she suggested we buy a Ford Roadster, and I quickly agreed. I had to borrow the money to pay for the car, and I charged the gas to fill the tank.

The eight miles to school was mud all but two miles, and the trip to Roanoke each weekend had either eight or twelve miles of dirt–mostly mud–roads. On one trip to Roanoke, I took Elmo with me, and we had to detour the twelve-mile way. After we were thinking maybe we were lost or we would have found Route 19 (the main road), we came to a country store. A man was sitting on the porch, and Elmo asked, “What is the best way to Roanoke?” He answered, “You walk.” That didn’t stop Lizzy! She made it!

Lizzy only cost us $490 brand new–a 1927 Roadster. We paid for her in 11 months instead of the 12 months they gave us at the bank. Lizzy worked faithfully until our family outgrew her in 1933. The only repairs were once a year, when I would clean the cylinder head and occasionally repair a spark plug.

Our first son is born.

The third week after school started, I was going to bring Ruth to Salem, where Aunt Doc was to take care of her and the baby. It was not to be that way. Uncle Main (Ruth’s youngest brother) and I went for Dr. Obrien about 2 a.m. on September 19. He took his time, but he came. Aunt Doc found a nurse, Miss Young; and she stayed with Ruth at Roanoke, caring for her and Bond for ten days. The doctor charged $10, and the nurse charged $75. Ashby Bond has been worth every bit of it.

More about Shady Grove School.

Near the end of school, we practiced or a field day at West Milford for our district. We had a field day with our neighbor, Morris School, before the district meet. We won enough at Morris to get our pupils and parents interested. So I paid $10 to one of my patrons to take as many as we could on a wagon to the West Milford meet. We won quite a few first-, second-, and third-place ribbons, which made everyone proud and happy.

Another thing I was proud of was that my eighth grade girl, Edna Day, took and passed the state examination. She was my first eighth grader to take the exam. She also won the District Girls’ Softball Throw. (We named one of our girls, Edna Ruth, for Edna Day.)

Ruth’s Memories

In late January I went to take care of Lee and Charles while Susie was in the hospital with a third son, Roxie Dane. I started having morning sickness while I was there. After I went home, it did not improve; in fact I got to the place where I could not sit up. Ashby came home that weekend. I was doing a little better by Monday, so he went back to school. I got better so I was up and around, but food and drink never stayed down very long. I got used to that. Later I went to Salem and stayed a week at Ashby’s home. I went to see Aunt Doc while I was there. She said, “Some get sick, and some don’t. You just have to take what comes.”

At long last graduation time came. I went to Salem for that. Ashby went home with me that time for keeps–we thought.

Our first home (rented apartment). Uncle Sammie was gone by that time, and Aunt Jane had fixed an apartment upstairs where she stayed; she rented the downstairs so she could have a little money coming in. I learned her renter was leaving in May, so I rented the apartment. We had enough donations so we furnished the place very comfortably. We bought the kitchen stove from the previous renter. We soon were living in our first home.

By the time our folks had gathered up things they could do without and some friends and neighbors came up with a few things, we were quite comfortable with little expense.

My sisters bought us a hand-operated washing machine. We had to carry our water from a cold spring some distance from the house. Water was handy at home, so they kept the washer there that summer and did our washing and ironing.

We lived about one-half mile from home. We raised a good garden and corn patch. Ashby worked for farmers anytime he could. I went down home every day that I did not have work to do at home. I was not too ambitious that summer, for I still could not keep food down any length of time. (I felt all right between times.)

Ashby tried to get a school near home that summer, but none were available. Orville came up home. (He was supervisor of Union District in Harrison County.) He had not been able to find a teacher for the one-room school at Shady Grove near the Doddridge County line. Ashby readily agreed to take the job. School was to start the following Monday. We decided I should stay at home and get things in shape there for three weeks; then I would go to Salem where we would both stay so Aunt Doc could take care of me when the baby came.

Our first baby arrives.

Ashby came home after school on Friday to take me back with him on Sunday. (I weighed less at that time than I did when we were married.) Plans changed fast. We had to call a local doctor on Sunday morning; and our first child, Bond, arrived. He only weighed 5 1/2 pounds, but otherwise he was a healthy baby. I put my thumb down beside his wrist and ankle, and my thumb was decidedly larger.

Mama asked the doctor what I should eat. He said, “Give her anythingshe wants and all she wants. She is starved.” That was music to my ears. Food never tasted better!

Mama was nervous about taking care of a baby so small, so Aunt Doc sent a nurse to take care of us for ten days.

We were so glad Ashby was there, but he had to go back to his school. I think that was the only time I was ever “homesick” at home. Nevertheless, I had to stay there three more weeks before I got to go to Salem with Bond.

Moving to Salem–and then to Shady Grove.

We stayed with Mother Randolph until November 11 when Ashby took us to Shady Grove. He had found a little cottage (furnished enough to make out) within a half mile of his school. By that time the road was getting so bad we had a hard time getting there. We never had the car out again until the next spring.

We made a lot of lasting friends that winter. When the weather permitted, we walked about one mile to the Meadow Valley Evangelical United Brethren Church. We were made to feel very welcome.

I had never been away from my old home before on Christmas Day. I missed being there; but Ashby and Bond were with me, and we were healthy and happy. What more could one ask!

A Summer at Lost Creek–1927

Ashby’s Memories

We moved to Lost Creek, where I put in two gardens and took care of Uncle Tom Bond’s farm during his vacation. It seemed everything went wrong the two weeks I was responsible for Uncle Tom’s farm. Ruth got sick (very sick) with the pregnancy of Xenia Lee. Two heifers came fresh (with very small, tedious teets to milk); this made twelve cows to milk, when I hadn’t milked more than one in five years. Then after all that, his hogs took cholera, and I had them to doctor and everything to sterilize. When Uncle Tom’s returned, everything was fine; and they seemed to appreciate the job.

Ruth’s Memories

The next spring, we rented a house on Lost Creek, not far from where Orville and Lucille lived. We moved our things in on Friday, but the gas was not yet connected. So we went up to Orville’s for the weekend. Susie, Everett, and their children also came out there for the weekend. We had the beds set up at our house; so Ashby, Orville, and his boys went there to sleep. I slept with Lucille. Orville got up early the next morning and came home. When he came in, Lucille said, “Oh, Orville, rub my legs. They have almost had cramps all night, but you were not here to rub them out.”

In the next year or so, Susie and Everett bought about fifty acres of Orville’s farm and built a summer home. Everett was teaching in Clarksburg, so they needed their home on Broadus Avenue.

We had a good garden that summer and had a cow; so we had our own milk and butter.

Uncle Tom had a dairy farm joining Orville. He also had hogs and chickens. They wanted to take a two-week vacation that summer and wanted Ashby to take care of everything while they were gone. We looked forward to that with great anticipation, for we both loved that kind of work. When the time came, poor Ashby had it all to do alone–I was sick again.

Living and Teaching at Jarvisville

Ashby’s Memories

The fall of 1927 I started teaching as principal of the two room school at Jarvisville. Mostly, I had a great time at Jarvisville. The pupils were bright and had been well taught–and besides, they were very athletic. The parents were mostly cooperative. Even the ministers were extremely helpful. They took week about (there were two of them) conducting an opening exercise.

When it came hiring time for the 1928-29 year, a member of one of the churches wanted my job. A number of the church members and the minister, Rev. Vanscoy, went to the meeting. Each member got up and said he had nothing against me but he wanted the other man to teach the school. Then Rev. Vanscoy got up and said, “I like Mr. Randolph and want him to have the school.” I kept teaching there until the fall of 1932.

The following are some of the successes I enjoyed at the Jarvisville School: All my eighth-grade pupils passed the state exam; our fifth-, sixth-, seventh-, and eighth-grade pupils won many ribbons–both in scholastics and athletics–at the District Field Meet.

Ruth’s Memories

Ashby was principal at Jarvisville the next school year. We found a cottage we could rent near the schoolhouse. Ada helped me clean the windows and the whole house before we moved, so all we had to do was to put things where they belonged as they were unloaded. What fun!!

We made a lot more friends there. A good neighbor (Walter and Esta Cozad) lived just across the road from us. They had one girl. (By the way, she went through grade school and high school without missing one day of school.)

At that time a hard surface road connected Jarvisville with Route 50, so we could get out any time we needed to. We rented a garage from the storekeeper.

Our second babv arrives. Near the end of February, we went to Salem to Ashby’s home so Aunt Doc could take care of our new baby. On February 28, Xenia Lee arrived about 11 a.m. She was a plump little baby–6 3/4 pounds. Elmo had to bring in all his friends to see her, and most of the relatives in Salem were in. By evening, she had had 27 visitors. Papa was plenty proud of her; she was the second girl in eight grandchildren. We went back to Jarvisville when Xenia Lee was three weeks old.

Owning Our Home

Ruth’s Memories

That spring Ashby found a little place for sale 2 1/2 miles west of Jarvisville. We were tired of moving twice a year. Ashby went to look at the place. The roads were still bad, so he had to walk. He liked the place with 18 acres, so we bought it. When a friend heard we had bought it, she said, “Did you let him buy that without your seeing it? What if you don’t like it?” I said, “He likes it, and I don’t have any doubt that I will like it too.” We are still here almost 53 years later and still loving it!

Maybe one of the biggest attractions of this place is 200,000 cubic feet of free gas each year. We have only paid three gas bills since we have lived here. The biggest one was about $11. Our meter is back on the hill. A boy from the other side of the hill was riding his motorcycle up and down the gas line right-of-way. Some way he ran into the meter house, upset it, and almost broke the gas line in two. Ashby was fishing at the pond and heard the crash but did not know what was wrong until we found we had no gas. That year we paid a $12 gas bill.

We had a good garden here, a hill meadow, and pasture for cows. We also kept chickens and pigs.

That first summer I wanted to help Ashby cut the filth on the hill, so we put a comfort in a wash tub and put Xenia Lee in it in the shade. She was quite happy, and Bond played close by her. I did not get to do that many times, for it seemed there were things at the house to be done, too.

There were lots of wild strawberries around over the place. I remember one summer Ada was staying with us while Ashby was in 4-H camp. She watched the children while I went on the hill and picked a 2 1/2-gallon bucket full of wild strawberries. We took them over to Aunt Elsie and Aunt Doc’s and had a big strawberry shortcake for dinner. It makes my mouth water to even write about it!

We had a hand-drilled well with a pitcher pump on our back porch. It was only about twelve feet deep. One could pump a two gallon bucket of water every hour or so. The water was nice and cold. A stream of water ran between the house and garden. It was clear except when it rained, and then it cleared quickly. There was enough drop to place a three-inch pipe and put a wash tub under it at the lower end. That made a good water supply for washing. We had to build a fire outside and heat the water in a twelve-gallon kettle, then carry it to the wash tub. We finally got our first gasoline motor Maytag. That was really something! We still had to carry all of the water to it–and also away.

Mr. and Mrs. Stull lived for a while in the house just west of us. They were a dear old couple, and we enjoyed their company. At that time a continued story was in the daily paper. Every day Mrs. Stull would come down to hear me read that story. Sometimes she would get so provoked at some of the characters in the story she wanted to shake them.

About this time we saw our first deer in this part of the county. At first, we saw it in the hill meadow. Then it came down to a pen where we had a Jersey calf. The deer nosed the calf quite a while before taking off up over the hill.

Ashby’s Memories

Maybe you would be interested in the getting and developing of the home of our family. The first summer Ruth and I were married, we lived in the downstairs of an old house near Ruth’s home. After I started teaching at Shady Grove, at the very head of Turtle Tree Fork of Tenmile, Ruth stayed at her home and I lived with my mother and my brother Elmo at Salem until three weeks after Bond was born. Ruth and Bond came to live in my Salem home until November 11, 1926, when we moved to within 1/2 mile of my Shady Grove School. We rented it from Fred Day, a wonderful friend (as was his wife and three daughters). Arvilla, the youngest, brought fresh milk to us each morning after they milked and usually asked Ruth if she had any cake because she loved it. Edna, her older sister, was the girl I mentioned as my first pupil to pass the state 8th grade exam.

When school was out the next spring, 1927, we moved to Lost Creek near Orville, which Ruth has told you about. After I started teaching at Jarvisville and driving about 7 miles each way, I rented a small house from Walter Cozad, which Ruth has mentioned in her stories. We enjoyed our life there until the spring of 1928 after Xenia Lee arrived, when we bought the home where we raised you children and still live.

The place had a four-room house with each room leaking when it rained, and in winter snow would blow through some of the cracks in the siding. There were 18 acres of hill land in the farm. We soon traded a good milk cow for 3 acres of bottom land between our farm and the road. That let us have a good way to the road instead of the right of way 200 yards up the creek and then through another farmer’s swampy meadow. An important part of the original buy was 200,000 cu. ft. of free natural gas each year. In the 57 years we have lived here so far, we have only paid a gas bill three different years.

Making improvements.

Gradually our house changed. We had Uncle Tom Randolph and Uncle Oris Stutler put in masonite wallboard on every room. Tommy Thomas, Glen Matthey, and Raymond Post built us a stone cellar 12 by 14 feet from rock cut from our own farm. In 1945 Edgar and his brother Bob built us a cellar house 12 by 18 feet, where Xenia Lee and Edgar lived for a while and where Annita was born. Somewhere in the early 1930′s we got imitation brick siding to cover the whole house. That, with the masonite inside, helped a lot. Still later we had aluminum siding and storm windows put on the four rooms. The combination brick cost about $300, and the aluminum siding cost $700 put on.

While I taught at West Milford, about 1965, we got a big room across the whole front of the house where the front porch had been, a good bathroom, and a garage, besides a new roof built over the original one for $3,000. Still later, about 1969, Neil Matheny and his two sons built our TV room and half bath for $2,500.

Water problems.

Water was a big problem for many years. We started with a hand-drilled well on our back porch that gave us two gallons of drinking water about every two or three hours and creek or spring water to boil outside over a wood fire in a 12-gallon kettle for washing. Some years later a company drilled a 2 1/2-inch test core about 400 feet deep in our yard west of the house. As pay for the damage, they left us a pump that gave us plenty of water until the sides began caving in, which made the water muddy.

Then we got a Mr. Mitchell with his peach limb to hunt us a good water supply. We didn’t have much faith in the method, but he only charged $5 and he located the spots for the Hope Gas to drill their water wells. When he found the place, he let Ruth and me try holding the limb; it pointed to the ground no difference how hard we tried to hold it up. This was about 60 feet east of the house. When they drilled it, they found the water 35 feet down after going through 15 feet of solid limestone. They tried bailing it down and couldn’t lower the water any. For a while we used a pitcher pump in a sink; then finally we had running water in the kitchen and bathrooms. What a happy day!

Work-saving appliances.

There were two things I got for Ruth quite soon after we were married. In 1927 I got her a Singer sewing machine for $100. Then in 1936 I got her a Maytag washing machine with a gas motor. They were work- and money-savers.

Paying for our home.

With all these expenses, it was mighty hard to pay the- $1,500 for our home. I gave notes for the payment due each six months. We made small payments each time when they were due. Finally, James Coffindaffer, from whom we bought, needed all the money and sold the notes to Truman Howell. He soon called for the notes to be paid, and we got a lawyer in Clarksburg to free our deed of all claims for 50 years back so we could borrow the money to pay Mr. Howell. They gave us 13 years to pay it off at 4 1/2 percent interest. This was the Land Bank of Baltimore. What a relief when the last payment was made in 1948.

Ruth’s Memories of a Growing Family — Our Second Son Arrives

On July 21, 1929, Alois joined our family. Papa and Mama came down to see him and took Bond back home with them for a week. He got along real well; but when they started to bring him home, he said, “Grandma, I don’t want dark to ever catch me here again.”

Bond was so thrilled to see Xenia Lee again. She could not have cared less. He would follow her around until she stopped; then he would squat down in front of her and laugh and laugh.

The children both loved their baby brother. Each one had to hold him a little bit when I would take him out of his crib. One day I was in the kitchen and heard Bond and Xenia Lee singing as hard as they could and Alois crying. I went to investigate and found Bond in the rocking chair with Xenia Lee sitting on the arm and Alois in Bond’s arms, rocking and singing. I guess I spoiled their fun, for they never tried that again.

One day Bond and Xenia Lee were playing that they were eating candy. Suddenly Bond said, “There, I got the last piece.” Xenia Lee just “boohooed.” She called, “Mama, Bond ate the last piece of candy.”

Two More Daughters Arrive

Mae arrived December 25, 1930. It had been a mild winter, so the dirt road could be traveled with a car most of the time. Mama’s youngest brother (Uncle Otto) was visiting in Salem with his wife and 16-year-old son. Clyde had never seen a tiny baby, and he desperately wanted to see Mae. Ada happened to be in Salem at the time (also Greta and Mary Randolph). Ada agreed to come over here with them if Clyde could get the car. He got the car but did not tell his father where he was going. They got over here all right, and we had a nice visit. But when they started back, they got in a ditch and had a terrible time getting out. The car was muddy all over. When they got back to Salem and the folks found out where they had been, they were really upset. Poor Ada was really in the “Dog House.” They thought she should have known better, even if the others did not. Anyway, all survived.

The hard surface road was one-half mile from us at that time. Uncle Erlo and Aunt Antha (also Velma) wanted to see Mae so much that they walked the half mile. Mae was so loose-jointed that I used to say I could almost tie her feet together behind her head.

October 12, 1932, Edna Ruth joined our family.

Another Son Arrives

Rex Main arrived the 19th of December, 1934. Grandma Sutton was staying with us. When we needed him, my doctor was sick. We called Grandma Randolph at Salem; she got Dr. Pearcy to come, but Elmo had to come with him to show him the way. Ashby had taken Alois to school with him and left Mae and Edna Ruth with neighbors. Before noon, we called a family by the schoolhouse to tell Ashby that Rex had arrived and all were well. The children could hardly wait to get home so they could see their little brother.

Ashby’s Memories of Extra Jobs–Fun and Work

During the summers I took summer classes at Salem College and organized and transported softball and volleyball community teams. The last two years I was president of the Tenmile Softball League, which I had organized to solve the problem of scheduling games. I also was on a district school maintenance crew that did painting, etc., to get the schools ready for the next term. During the winter and until planting time, I would grub the roots of brush out in preparation for the field of corn of one-half to one acre. This corn we fed to our cow, chickens, and hogs.

Teaching at Morris School, 1931-37

In the spring of 1931, the board decided to cut the Jarvisville School to one room, so I got moved to the Morris School. This was only one mile for me to walk instead of the 2 1/2 miles I had been walking to Jarvisville. I taught seven mighty pleasant years at Morris.

I persuaded the District Superintendent to include the first, second, third, and fourth grades in the scholastic competition for the Field Day. We won many ribbons each year. Five of the pupils went on to be valedictorians at Bristol High School.

Another thing that made me very proud happened when I had two boys move to a Clarksburg school. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law, who taught in Clarksburg, had told me they always moved the pupils from country schools back one grade to start them. One of my boys was put in the A section for his grade, and the other one was put in a small especially gifted group for his grade.

We had Parent Teacher Associations and Country Life Programs. Sometimes, we took part in the Jackson’s Mill Roundups. I remember our playing checkers and taking a one-act play and a musical reading. We put on programs for Christmas and other special times. My brother, Elmo, always played Santa Claus. The Santas the children had seen had tried to scare them. Elmo was careful and kind to everyone, so they called him the real Santa and kept asking for him.

Making a living for my family was difficult on $110 per month. I also went to school at night during the school term and twelve weeks most summers until I got my Bachelors degree in Education the spring on 1936. After that, I checked farms to find out how much lime and fertilizer the government would give them. I had to draw a map of each field. Some of them I could estimate by stepping off, and some I had to measure with a chain. In either case, I had to find the size in acres. Another summer I cut pulp wood; and others I got jobs for farmers, cutting filth, hacking brush, and harvesting hay, oats, and wheat.

The fall of 1936 I did not know whether I would have a school or not until the day before it was to start. Many schools were being discontinued. The school at Shady Grove had been discontinued, and the Board of Education was trying to stop mine. Dean Van Horn, the county grade superintendent came the day before school was to start and told me I had the Morris School another year.

I didn’t take a chance on the Morris School again the next year. Instead, I got the principalship at Jarvisville, which had become a two-room school again.

School Discipline Methods

The discipline of the school is one of its biggest problems. There must be an attitude of learning and respect and obedience. From my first school, I have used the theory that if I was with the pupils at all play periods and got them to have fun (fair, clean, tiring fun), they would appreciate me enough to obey me and learn during study time. I am sure playing with the children helped, but it didn’t solve all the problems.

At my first school an eighth grade boy enticed a first grade boy to blow a French harp during school. I asked him to come to the front of the room. He refused. When I took hold of him, he grabbed his seat. I took him to the back of the room, took off my belt, and used it. When I got back to my class at the front, I asked him to come up to me. He came, and I explained that we couldn’t learn with disturbances. I had no more trouble at the Hannah School, and we enjoyed learning and playing.

I remember no discipline troubles at the Astor School, but I remember a play accident. Alfred Reppart was accidentally hit with a bat. I had to carry him a half mile to his home. He was back to school the next day.

At the Shady Grove School, my third one, I paddled three sixth grade pupils’ palms because they refused to use the rule which I taught for finding the area of a circle. For a while I thought I might have trouble. The year before, one of their parents had made the teacher, Melvin McClain (a close friend of mine), pay $10 judgment in a Justice of the Peace trial for paddling his child.

Once I had a big husky boy sit on nothing (back up to the wall with his hands loose at his sides and squat into a sitting position). He looked as though he would rebel at any second, but he didn’t. Not long after that, I took him and two other boys with me walking to a Salem College basketball game. (By giving some honor or privilege, I always tried to prove to everyone I punished that I held no hard feelings against him or her.) I also tried to stay extra calm during the punishment by pausing between times (if the punishment was physical) to explain why the student had to be punished. It never took more than three licks for any kind of paddling.

4-H, Life Saving, and Teaching at Camps

When I was at Jarvisville in 1927-1928, I organized a 4-H Club. The members did wonderfully. I went to State 4-H Leaders’ Camp, where I learned crafts and got my Senior Life Saving Certificate. My Life Saving instructors were Brownie Wheeler and Commadore Longfellow. (Commadore Longfellow started life-saving courses for the Red Cross and Boy Scouts.) If they hadn’t been extra good teachers, I wouldn’t have been able to have completed the course in that twelve days.

For ten years, I kept my certificate renewed each three years and taught swimming and life saving at our church camps, as well beginning swimming at Jackson’s Mill one year. I also taught “Recognition of Trees” and “Leather Craft” for our county camp at Jackson’s Mill. Also I went to Clarksburg and took a First Aid Course to Dewey Rosell. I received my instructor’s certificate. In one of my classes at Morris, I was instructing on the control of severe bleeding when one of my big husky men fainted. I had a practical demonstration of recovery from fainting.

My getting to teach beginning swimming at Jackson’s Mill was unique. The head swimming instructor was Jack Ickenberry, whom I had taught to swim in our church camp at Middle Island. He was one of those sinkers but was almost too brave and determined to do whatever I asked. He kept me so worried watching to see if he would come up. I think I never saw anyone so proud as he was when he learned to stay on top–unless it was Lenore and Leonard Williams at Berea, who had the same problem.

Ruth’s Memories of Neighbors and Ashby’s Graduation

The summer Edna Ruth was two years old, we had a family living next to us with four children. The mother was not very healthy. Since we had a Maytag gasoline washer and water handy from a stream close by, she did her washing down here. The oldest girl was about Bond’s age, and they just could not live peaceably. A boy was Edna Ruth’s age. He always went home with a sore head from pulled hair, but he left teeth prints all over her arms.

Wallace and Hazel Burnside

That was so different from the next family who moved in there-Wallace and Hazel Burnside. They had previously lived about a mile up the next hollow. They had two children (Guy and Bernice) the ages of Bond and Xenia Lee; and they loved to play together (along with the younger children). They played together a lot.

When Wallace and Ashby had time, they liked to pitch horseshoes and to target shoot with a 22 rifle. Sometimes one won, and then the other. They loved to hunt, too. As for Hazel and me, we were like sisters. She had no sister, and mine were miles away. We did our canning together (and everything we could). She was not very well, so I would gather things in while she watched the children and got jars ready. Then we worked together. What good times we had!

Musgraves

A family of Musgraves moved into the hollow a mile and one-half from us. He was out of work, so they thought they would get out where they could grow gardens and have a place to keep pigs and chickens. Also, there were good fruit trees and lots of berries on that farm. They lived at the end of the hollow. One other family lived on the way there.

They had always lived in town. She knew very little about country life, but he had been reared on a farm. She did not like it there away from close neighbors (besides, she was pregnant for the seventh time). She was a lot of fun to be with. Their 14-year-old son loved to come down here. He would sweep, mop, or do anything he could. He was really a big help.

I went up there after supper one evening. As I was starting to leave, she had a faint warning. She said, “You are not going now!” In a little while she said, “Children, get to Randolphs”; and she sent Mr. Musgrave to call the doctor. The doctor got there, and we waited. It seemed to me that Mr. Musgrave was doing everything he could to “upset” her. She wanted him to stay with her, but he went to the kitchen to bake some pies.

In due time, a baby girl arrived–the pride and joy of the whole family. Mr. Musgrave said later that he always had to do something to make her mad or she would never have enough spunk to have the baby.

Their son Carroll was a “life saver” for Bond when he started to junior high. Some of Ashby’s school boys who had to do things they did not want to do tried to take it out on Bond. Carroll kept a watchful eye out for him, and they soon learned not to tangle with Carroll.

They later moved near Akron, where Mr. Musgrave ran a restaurant. Whenever any of the family came back to Clarksburg on a visit, they would stop in to see us for a little while. Two of the boys were here a little while just last fall. It is so good to have old friends drop in!

Ashby Graduates

By the summer of 1936, Ashby’s night classes and a summer term or two had paid off. He received his degree in elementary education. We were all there to see him get his diploma.

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Chapter 14 – The Salem Years — 1914-1925

April 6, 2009

I bought a house and lot of Leonard Jett and borrowed the money to make a down payment. We moved on the first day of April, 1914. This changed our place of residence from Ritchie County, where we had spent nearly all our lives, to our new home in Salem. We never moved back to Ritchie as our home. We had a small house, but large enough for us. This saved us paying room and board for Brady. There were four children—Brady, 17; Ashby, 12; Avis, 10; and Elmo, 6 months. Brady was in the Academy, and Ashby and Avis were in the grades in the college.

Flinderation School: I was to write insurance, but it did not work out as the insurance men fought us both fair and foul. So I got the school at Flinderation that winter. When the district superintendent proposed my name as the teacher, one of the board turned around and asked if I thought I could hold Flinderation down. I told him I did. The fact is I thought I could hold anything down, but I have had some doubts since. When virtually all of the patrons, as well as the children, do everything they can to be mean, it is hard to make a success in any school, as I found in Taylor County a few years later. Flinderation proved to be a very nice school. Every one seemed to be entirely satisfied and wanted me to teach it again. I thought they would ask the board for me, and they thought I would ask; so I did not get it.

I got a job of Uncle Preston the next summer. He was building a house, and I had all kinds of work to do. I can tell you he was hard to please. I then worked at other places after I quit him.

Black Lick School,  A Bout with Rheumatism: I taught at Black Lick in Doddridge County this winter. I felt miserable most of the late fall, and by Thanksgiving I felt so bad that I let Brady teach a day or more as it was vacation for him. By the first of the next week, I was down with rheumatism. For two weeks I lay on my back and could move but one foot a little bit and neither hand. They fed me for five weeks because I could not get either hand to my mouth. The pain, at times, was terrible—but not all the time, for we found a remedy that would stop it in an hour. (Ring a woolen cloth out of very hot water with a tablespoon of Epsom salts for every quart of water, changing it as soon as it begins to cool. This may be of use to someone.) I did not get to go back to school till late in January; even then I felt miserable. This was not a very interesting school, for the most of them were not very bright students .

I did not get steady work the next summer for two reasons: I was not very able to work, and work was very scarce. I got some work about town and went out in the country and did some harvesting.

This winter of 1916-17 I taught at Buckeye, three miles out of Salem. This was a fairly good school, and enjoyed it fine.

Working for Virgil in New York, 1917

When school was out, I went up to New York to work for Virgil as I feared work would be scarce in Salem. I started about March 20. I had a cold when I left; by the time I got there, it had developed into grippe. I was not able to do anything for two weeks. We put out a crop of oats, about ten acres of potatoes, and an acre of corn for ears. Virgil had a bottom that would mature corn; but oh, it was so hard and flinty. Virgil told me later that the acre produced 125 bushels of corn.

Soon after I got there, World War I started. Potatoes were over $2 a bushel; flour went out of sight, but it soon went down some. They asked everyone to plant all the potatoes they could as they would be needed. Virgil feared there would be so many raised that they would not be worth raising. He need not have been scared; they started off in the fall at $1 a bushel and soon went up to $2. In the spring they went still higher. The farmers, both grain and stock, made big money during the war. The next year the price went way down and did not go back up on farm products until about 1940—twenty years later. I’ll tell you, it was hard times for the farmers. No wonder the farmers rose up in their might and crushed the party, in 1932, that had ruined them and that it has not returned to power in twenty years—but I am getting in ahead of my story, so I had best go back.

I worked fairly hard that summer but did not hurt myself. I did not get wages like others were getting because I began work before the war started. Elizabeth was at Virgil’s that summer. We had a great time together. She was a fine friend and did everything she could to cheer me up when I’d get home sick and lonesome. Vida came out a while that summer and was very nice to me, which I will never forget.

We had a near neighbor who had bad spells with his heart, which scared the family very much. They would come after Virgil in haste, and he would go over and stay for hours sometimes. He was a very good neighbor. One day they came after Virgil at noon, and he wasn’t at home. So I went and stayed till he got better. They told Virgil I was very helpful, which made me feel good. It is really very good to feel you are useful.

Mary was a fine motherly woman who was as good as any could be. Winston did nothing of any amount for he was not strong and did not dare do much.

Back to Salem, Fall 1917

I came back to Salem the last of August so I could go to Teachers’ Institute and got steady work at three times the pay I was getting. I was very glad, for we needed the money very much. I got a lot of work at the lumber yard.

I taught at Dewey Town that winter. It was one of the coldest, iciest winters one need ever want to see. It was a very rainy fall; in fact, once or twice it would rain till I would be wet from my waist down. My rubbers and shoes would be full, and I would wring out my stockings and put them back on. By 4 p.m. my clothes would be about dry; by the time I got home, I would be wet as ever. Between Christmas and New Years it got very cold. For six weeks it was seldom above zero and as low as 17 below. Most of the time the snow was covered with ice, so you were constantly in danger of falling and crippling yourself. I boarded over there the last week of the severe cold weather. All my eighth grade got promoted, which was very good.

When school was out, I got a job on a farm at Glovers and Kings for the summer. They were very good to me except Mrs. King, who hated me, and there was no love lost. She had two girls whom she was trying to bring up to be as big snobs as she was.

I taught at Flinderation again this year. The flu broke out after I had taught a short time, and all schools were closed for about six weeks.

Railroad Work at Grafton I got a job working on the railroad at Grafton. A train came to Salem at 6:45 a.m. and was supposed to come back at 6:45 p.m. We got pay from the time we were supposed to leave Salem until we did get back. We got time and a half after 10 hours, and we always got 11 hours. Once we got 13 besides the extra time. This wasn’t the worst of it; they wouldn’t let us do half work. You wonder why? The railroad companies were running the railroad for the government, and they wanted to make it cost the government so much the government would have to give it back to the railroad companies.

I will give one example of the way they worked. One morning when we got into Grafton, we found that McAdo (the big boss) was there, and he was mad. He told them there were men enough on the job to have done three times the work they had done. That was really an understatement, but I suppose he didn’t want to be too hard on them. The super came out and told us to get tie hooks and go to carrying ties. He said, “Any one found loafing while the government men are here will be fired.” Of course, that meant when they left we could loaf all we pleased.

The men began to carry ties, three hooks, six men to a tie. I was left without any hook or buddy. There was one hook and two men extra, so I told them to catch back a little from the end and I would carry the back end. I could carry my end, but it was heavy. The second tie we carried a boy ran up and grabbed a hold. On the third tie a man came, too. This made me so mad that I let loose, and my end of the tie dropped to the ground. They were pulling down instead of helping. Just then the super came back and told us to carry some old ties. I started for them, and three more came after me. When I got there, I tipped a tie on end, put it on my shoulder, and walked off with it. Several began to curse and rave. I stopped and told them that I didn’t object to help in carrying ties but I’d be hanged if I’d carry the ties and drag two or three with it. Some of them talked saucy, but no one laid hands on me, so it soon died down.

Sometimes they would go over into town and stay for hours. One boy from Salem slipped out at noon and didn’t come back till 3 p.m. They fired him, but he came back the next day and worked right ahead. I’ll bet he got full pay for the day they fired him. It was the greatest swindle I ever saw. I got over $4 a day for six to eight hours play; the rest of the time we put in on the train, part of the time going and part of the time on switches waiting for a train to pass us.

A few weeks after I got my pay, a man came to me and asked if I had got all my pay. I told him I got what they gave me. He said there was more at the depot. I went down and got enough to make me about $5 a day. This was the best job I had ever had.

Teaching Again

About the first of November I began teaching again. This was the great flu year of 1918. I had a very nice school, but it got quite small and they sent the scholars to Bristol the next year. I never taught in Harrison County again. The chief reason for this was that the board of Ten Mile decided about this time to hire no one unless he had as good as a Normal certificate.

The summer of 1919 I worked on Evander’s farm for Brady and Ashby and for Wardner Davis on some city jobs. This was a fairly good summer, but not as good as I had a couple years later.

Teaching in Ritchie Again: I had no school until late in the fall, when they sent for me from Ritchie to teach the Upper Otter Slide School. This was a new school; the district was formed and the house built late that fall. The Moonrise School house had burned down the fall before, and the school had been taught in an empty farm house. This fall they got the board to cut off part of Upper Otter Slide and a part of this district, build a house, and form a new district on the head of Otter Slide with me as teacher. I found it one of the best schools I had ever taught, although they said it had been no good at all the winter before. In fact, the large girls told me they had acted so badly that they were ashamed of themselves every time they saw their teacher that summer.

There were 26 scholars, made up of the following families: 7 from Lee Campbells, 6 from Port Campbells, 2 from Jack Hudkins, 6 from Elva Maxsons, 3 from Dow Maxsons, 1 from Art Brisseys, and 1 I can’t remember. One of the Campbells and two or three of Elva’s girls went through high school, and Maynard went one year.

I stayed at Uncle E. J,’s and worked nights and mornings and Sundays to pay for my board. It was a very good winter except Jennie had a very severe sick spell. I went to see her and found her getting better. A few weeks later Conza said a friend from Salem told them that Dr. Bond said she was going with T. B., so I went home to see about it. I went to see Dr. Bond, and she said there was no sign of T. B., which made me feel very good.

The first trip I made in a pouring rain. I was wet from head to toe. I waded several creeks to my knees. I did not know when the train ran, so I walked very fast and was tired when I got to Tollgate. I had to wait an hour. The station master said I was the wettest, worst bedraggled man he ever saw. He built up a good fire, which dried me out a little. I got quite cold on the train, but it had no bad effects.

Before school was out, the scholars got up a petition to the trustees asking them to hire me next year. I told them before I left that I would try to come back. Some of them were in Salem to a church meeting and came to see me about teaching, and I told them I would. But before time for me to go, Jennie got quite sick and had to go to the hospital for an operation. The surgeon said she would be no better until she had another operation in about a year, so I couldn’t go. I went three years later and taught two terms, but I will write of it later.

Selling Books in Pennsylvania: That summer I sold books in Pennsylvania. I went up there with three other Salem boys. I did quite well in the small towns but could do nothing in the country. You couldn’t sell a $5.00 gold piece to a Pennsylvania farmer for $4.50. They were the sorest, worst disgruntled, sourest people I ever saw. They said the young people had all gone to the factories; they had to pay two prices for anything they bought and could not get half price for what they raised. They were just mad. This was in 1920.

Before the season was nearly over I had to come home, for Jennie was quite sick. She got some better so I could go out for a few days. She soon got worse and had to go to the hospital for an operation. The surgeon performed only part of this then, and she had to go back for a second operation a year later.

Buckeye School and Picking Apples: I taught at Buckeye that winter and had a very nice school. Before the school began, I worked in the lumber yard for Evander a while. Then he sent me to pick apples. He had a man picking peaches that he thought was the fastest picker in the country. He got the peaches picked by noon and came to pick apples that afternoon. I was then 48 years old, but I still thought I could pick as many apples as the next one. So I went to work.

Now the trees were medium sized young ones, loaded down with fine, large, smooth Ben Davis apples. The Ben Davis is not the best eating apple; but when it comes to picking and filling a bushel measure, they are hard to beat. I had plenty of bushel boxes handy to fill, so I went to work. I would stand on the ground and fill the picking bag I had over my shoulder. Once I wanted to see how soon I could fill a bushel box; so I got under a limb that I thought had at least a bushel of apples that I could reach easily, looked at my watch, and went to work. In just two minutes I had a bushel box of apples picked (pretty fair, wasn’t it?). When we quit, I found I had picked three to his two bushels all afternoon. Pretty good, wasn’t it?

This was on Friday before my school began. Alexander asked me to pick apples for him Sunday, so I went out and worked for him all day but did not get done. He asked me if I could find some way to finish them, so I started to school early and picked a while and then picked after school was out. That way I finished picking them.

I saw Elmus Bee one evening as I came from school. He told me he had picked all the apples that were easy to get at and that I could have the rest if I would gather them. So I did and got several bushels of fine apples which lasted till way in the winter, for which we were very thankful.

Cutting Filth and Blackberry Picking: It was in the spring of 1922 that I began to do a lot of work for Lee Davis. I hoed some corn and did some other work for him. Then he wanted me to cut a big field of filth for him where there were lots of blackberries. I was to have all the blackberries on the patch I took to cut. We agreed on what I was to have for cutting a part of the field, and I picked the first day of July. I found I could pick six gallons of berries a day, which was about all I could carry into town, four miles away, and I could get 65 cents a gallon. I soon asked for more filth to cut so I could have more berries to pick. We agreed on a price (a little too cheap), but I was to have all the berries on the entire field. I picked every day and carried into town until my arms ached all the time. I would carry a three-gallon pail in my right hand, a two-gallon pail in my left hand, and a one-gallon pail fastened to the suspenders of my overalls. My arms would ache that winter from carrying my dinner pail, but it paid. I cut the filth on the whole field, which with the berries I picked made me about $100, which isn’t hay!

I taught the Long Run school that winter, and they all wanted me back. But a girl slipped to the board and got it away from me.

The next summer I cut the same field of filth of Lee, built a lot of woven wire fence for him, and worked for some others. So I had another busy summer and a fairly prosperous one,

Trouble in a Taylor County School: I had more trouble getting a school than I had ever had, but I got one in Taylor County and never taught near Salem again. In fact, I never spent a winter there again. This was the hardest school to teach I had ever struck. The children were taught, the most of them, that they had a right to do as they pleased. I only saw two of the trustees when I went to contract for the school. They told me they had been having no school for several years and that they wanted me to teach it and see that they behaved. When I saw the other trustee, I found that he was a ruffian and didn’t want the children controlled.

I got along fairly well until the first of December, when I found the children in the house and the door locked. They refused to open the door, so I went to the trustees (I boarded with one of them). They said that they thought the children should have a little fun. I told them they said they wanted me to teach the school and let no one else run it. They said that they forgot to tell me that the children were to have some fun before Christmas and lock me out. (If they had told me about that, I would have told them to keep their school.) The next morning they did not try to keep me out, so I went on with the school.

The week before Christmas, I found the door fastened again. That evening the trustee where I boarded and I went to see the other trustee, a very nice old man by the name of Taylor. He said that he thought it was all right for the children to have some fun and that they had been locking the teachers out for fifty years. My reply was, “Mr. Taylor, when you were first married, you would get on a horse and Mrs. Taylor would get on behind you when you went anywhere. But now you have an auto.” Mrs. Taylor was in the kitchen listening, and she spoke up, “That’s so, and you men had better go over there and stop those children acting the fool.” They came over the next morning and found the door with one end of a rail against the stove and the other against the door. They opened the door and told the children not to lock the door anymore.

I gave them a treat at the end of that week (they knew I was going to treat them when they locked the door the second time). I hoped that would stop it, but it didn’t. The other trustee put the children up to being mean and came to the school house after school was out and told me I didn’t have sense enough to teach school and that I must never punish any of his children in any way.

Shortly after this the spelling class his girl was in missed every word in their lesson. They didn’t try to spell but would look at each other and grin when they missed. So I told them they would try it again in the morning. It was the same in the morning, so I told them to stay in at recess. The girl said her father told her not to stay in. I told her she could stay in or take her books and go home and stay till she would mind. Just then her father came roaring in. He dared me outside (he was about 35 and I was 50) and said he would be there and get me that night and that he would follow me till he did get me.

I called the two trustees in, and they told me to have him arrested. I dismissed school and went to Grafton and took out two warrants for him, one for assault and one for breach of peace. The squire told me if I could prove what I told him, he would step on him. When I left he told me to go back to my school and take care of myself. I asked if he meant any way, and he said, “Any way.”

I had known I was going to have trouble, so I told the trustees the week before that I was going to quit, for the children would tell any lie. They said they wouldn’t believe anything the children told, but I told them someone else would try the case so I thought I would quit. When I got home, I told them I had quit. Ashby was teaching out in the country, and I told him when he came in that I had quit. He told me, “Dad, you’re not quitting. You have taught the worst schools in the country, and you managed them. You are not quitting this one.” I said, “All right, kid, if you say so, I’ll go ahead. But there will be trouble.” And there was. Just the same I have always been very glad that he told me to go back and that I did.

McDonald was the man’s name (this was the second McDonald I had had trouble with in school, and I could not trust one of that name as far as I could throw a bull by its tail). He did not come back to the school house, but he went over to Mr. Taylor’s and bragged about what he had done. He said I had started the ball rolling and he intended to keep it rolling and that he was going to follow me till he did get me. In fact, he told everything he did, so Mr. Taylor was the only witness I needed. But I took the other trustee and his boy, 12 years old. McDonald took his mother to go his bond, if necessary, his children as three witnesses, and the best lawyer in Grafton. We also got a good lawyer.

I told what happened, and Mr., Taylor told what he knew. When they cross-questioned me, they asked if McDonald whispered. When they questioned the boy, he got along well till they asked if the defendant was mad. This stumped him for a minute. Then he said. “He did not whisper.” When we rested, the lawyer moved to quash the warrant. The squire said, “No.” The lawyer said we had not proved what they expected, so they would have no witnesses. The squire said he would render his verdict. He turned to McDonald and said, “You have done entirely wrong, and I won’t stand for it. I will fine you $25 and bind you over to keep the peace for a year and a day under a $200 bond.” So you see, it didn’t pay him to get extra smart. I finished the school without any more trouble, but I feel it was one of my poorest terms.

Why This School was Called Robinson: I think it might be well to tell the story of how this school came to be called Robinson School. A man by the name of Robinson and his wife lived in a house near the school. They got in debt and borrowed some money of McDonald, the father of the man I had trouble with. Robinson gave him a deed for his farm with the agreement if they could pay the money back within a year that they could redeem it. They scraped and saved and got the money. When they went to redeem the farm, he said, “No, I have the deed for the farm, and I am keeping it.”

McDonald lost a dog and accused Robinson of killing it. Every time they met, he would throw it up to Robinson about killing his dog. One day Robinson said to him, “The next time you say dog to me, I’ll kill you.”

Sometime before the year was up, McDonald came down and ordered Robinson to move out. Robinson told him he would move out the day the year was up and not a day sooner. McDonald came down the morning he was to move and found him loading up to move. “Well,” McDonald said, “I reckon I can keep a dog now.” Robinson got his gun and shot him dead.

They sent to Grafton for the officers. When they came, Robinson was in the house and refused to let them in. He told one of his friends who was with the officers that when he was ready they could have him, but not till he was ready. He also said he had a rifle, a shot gun, and a revolver in the house; and if they thought he couldn’t shoot, to put a penny on top of a post 25 yards away. In a half minute the penny was shot off. They waited around till evening. Soon after the lights went on, they heard a shot. They went in and found he had shot himself. A man may be so annoyed that he will do awful things.

Two Pupils in Robinson School: I believe I will write a little about two of my pupils in the Robinson School before I forget it. The family where I boarded moved away about two months before school was out, so I boarded with her brother’s family the rest of the term. The name was Stark. There were two little girls—Ruth was 8, and Jinnie was 6 about the middle of the winter. Jinnie did not come to school until the last two months. She may have known her letters; if she did, that was all. Neither of the girls came in bad weather, for it was a long trip and Ruth was not strong.

One rainy day when I came from school, Mrs. Stark told me Ruth had tested Jinnie to see how many words she knew at sight anywhere. I told her about 100. She said Jinnie knew 125. Pretty good for a six-year-old girl in less than two months! I think she was a little above average in ability, and she really tried. Ruth was a very sweet little girl. She wrote for two or three years but finally quit. I think I just forgot to answer one of her letters.

Summer Work in Salem: I came home Monday evening, finished my school reports, and went to work for Guy Davis on the school house at noon Tuesday. I leveled off the dirt floor in the basement, cut two holes for sewer pipes through the 18-inch wall (Guy said it was the hardest concrete he ever saw), and laid a concrete floor. I had worked on this school the year before when they were building it.

After finishing the school house for Lee and Guy Davis, I went to work on farms and did not lose any time for rain for six weeks. One rainy morning at about 8 a.m. Lee raised the window of the school (it was right below our house) and wanted to know if I wanted to work. I went down and cleaned up and carried lumber for them. Then for some time, whenever it rained, they would call me down. Then for a while I got no work., Then one Sabbath evening Guy came to me and asked if I could work the next day. He said a man had promised to come Friday but didn’t, so he was through with him. After that I did all the common labor for them. Besides the other work I did, I got a job teaching some children at night who had not passed their grade. I made over $1200 that year, which was a little the best I had ever done up to that time.

Besides the Central School building, I had also worked on the East School building. In 1920 I had worked for several weeks on a glass plant at Bristol. I am telling this to show I had worked on a number of big buildings in Salem. I am sorry to say I was not the contractor or head man on any of these jobs, but I did a lot of common labor on each of them.

My Last Teaching in Ritchie County—1923-1925

The summer of 1923 went by rapidly. In the late summer I was offered the Upper Otter Slide School, so I was fixed for the winter. I boarded with Guy and Mamie that winter. I had plenty to eat and was treated very nicely. In fact, I had a very nice winter. Harold Brissey, Jesse Kelley and some of the other boys would go out hunting at night. We caught several possums and a few skunks. When I left in the spring, the patrons petitioned the board to hire me again. All but one of them signed the petition, and he went to the board and told them he wanted me. They hired me, so I was all set for the term of 1924-25.

This year I did not find as much work about Salem as I had been doing.

As there was a big gas line being laid in Ritchie, I went out there the 4th of July and worked for Elva till they got the line near enough to walk back and forth. I got $4.08 a day, and my board cost $l.35 a day. This saved me some, as I worked for Elva on Sundays. Digging ditches is hard work, but I liked it fine except for a few days when it was so terribly hot. One day I had to go to the shade for over an hour, but they did not dock me any.

I dug in the ditch till we got to the center, where the Italians were supposed to meet us but didn’t. Then I went back and filled in till a mile beyond the center. Our super said he could take 100 Americans and lay more line than 175 Tallies. I finished the job just before time for school to begin.

Jack offered to let me live in a vacant house he had. This was a real good four-room house with a bed and bedding which he said I could use. He didn’t charge me anything for it. He also gave me some beans and apples, which he said he would not pick. Of course, they were not high quality, but they were good enough for me. I surely enjoyed them very much. I helped Willie Jett fill his silo, and he let me have a lot of corn beans. So I had beans for a long time.

I will mention right here that Jack, May, and Ova were very nice to me, and I won’t forget them.

Elmo Stayed With Me and Attended School: I stayed by myself and did my own cooking until I went home to vote. When I returned, Elmo came with me. We had a grand time. Jesse Kelley and I had been hunting some, so we went out in a short time after Elmo came. I could see that Jesse did not like very well for Elmo to go, but I would not go without Elmo. About 11 p.m. the dogs treed something, and we had no ax. Elmo said to give him the lantern and he would go to Jesse’s (which was about one-half mile away) and get an ax. He was back in a little while. After that Jesse was glad for Elmo to go every time. We had lots of fun and got lots of possums. We had a few to eat. Elmo enjoyed them very much.

The girls liked Elmo and got along with him just fine, but the boys were inclined to be jealous of him because he could beat them at almost any of their games. When they played “hide and seek,” he would lie down and be still. They would pass by him, and he could come right in. When they played “keep away” with the volley ball, he could beat them, which made some of the Campbell boys mad. They tried to do Elmo the same, but they didn’t have any success.

When we went home for Christmas, Elmo wasn’t sure if he would come back. When the time came, he was anxious to go back. We bought a quarter of beef of John Meathrell and had beef about all winter. We bought potatoes of someone there and plenty of groceries from the store. We lived fine, and it didn’t cost nearly as much as they (Jennie and Dow) asked for board for me only. They wanted $20 per month, which at that time seemed rather high.

I did not have quite so good a school this winter, as several of the boys decided they were too big to study or behave. The most of them did well, and several got diplomas from the eighth grade.

This finished my teaching in Ritchie (24 winter terms). In fact, I have been in Ritchie but little since the spring of 1925.

Summer Work at Salem—1925

This summer I took a job of filth cutting of Lee Davis. Before I finished it, Leonard Jett came over and wanted to help. He had been working for the city and got his hand badly mashed. He wanted to work some to get able to do a day’s work, and then go in with me and be able to make something. I took him in. After finishing that job, we helped Alexander in his hay. We took a job of cutting four acres of hay with scythes and also helped him put up all his hay.

Work was getting scarce, and we had heard that they were going to build a concrete basement for the Ritchie Church. We found what the sand and stone would cost and what the lumber and labor would cost. When we got there, we found Amos Brissey thought it could be built for less than we could build it. I made a bid, but I have always been so glad we did not get it. There was a big racket over it, and there would have been a much worse one if we had got it. And I hate a racket.

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Chapter 7 – A Country School Teacher

April 6, 2009

I was eighteen years old and scared and very lonely. I didn’t know a person within twenty “country” miles, for I had arrived at Lawford, West Virginia. There was one store and three houses. The school house was a mile up the creek, where I was to teach school. I had room and board at a large house about a half mile from the school.

The family consisted of a middle-aged couple by the name of Wagoner, their ten year old son, Andrew, and her aged mother who was paralyzed from the waist down. They were typical mountain people who could just write their names (the grandmother couldn’t), and they took little stock with “book learnin.” They had a good farm and were more affluent than most of their neighbors. They probably secured their wealth by keeping the teachers year after year, for they charged me $10.00 a month!

Lawford was a full day’s trip by buggy from the nearest railway station. But in September I was able to get a truck to take my trunk and me out there. Later a trip had to be made in a buggy or on horseback because the roads were very bad.

I arrived at my new home on Sunday afternoon and my trunk was deposited in the hall where it had to be unpackedbefore Mr. Wagoner could carry it upstairs to my room. That was quite a scene; for allof these strangers sat around watching me pull out each piece from the trunk. They were very frank to express their dislike for “city duds.” When I had finished the task of unpacking, I was told that there wasn’t much there that would be suitable to wear in that community. I don’t know why, but for some reason they didn’t ask my age. They informed me that the last two teachers had been “run off ” by the scholars. No wonder, though, for the last one had been only nineteen years old! This was one time I was grateful because I looked older than I was. I never told my age as long as I stayed there.

How blue I was! If it hadn’t been so far to the railroad, I would travel been leaving that night. I was sorely tempted as it was.

I had been used to good gas lights at home, and here I had only a little kerosene lamp. We hava gas stove in every room at home and here I was in an upstairs room that had never had any heat in it. The heat problem would not bother for a month or so, though. I was accustomed to having friends about me and going places every day. Here I could scarcely communicate because of the difference in age arid interests. The only place to go was to church one Sunday a month. For some peculiar reason, the Wagoners never even visited in the neigborhood. and that left me very much outside of the society of the community.

In college we had been told to start our school year with great severity. We were urged to prepare two paddles and fasten them together in such a way that they would make a loud noise when they were used. According to the going theory of the day, a number of rules should be imposed, and the first pupil to break one rule was to be paddled before the whole school. The paddle would make a loud noise; the child would scream, supposedly, and the teacher must yell as each lick was hit. Such fear would be upon them all that there would be no more trouble out of any of them. Did it work? I don’t know, for I never had the courage to try it.

Fourty-some students arrived on Monday morning at that little one-room, run down, lopsided school house. The youngest was six and must be taught to read and write. The oldest was nineteen and would be in the eighth grade. My greatest problem, however, was with three teenage boys who were in the sixth grade. Their arithmetic was to give me many restless nights!

The schoolhouse had six windows and one outside door. There were some other openings large enough to “throw a cat through” as the local expression was. When cold weather came, we stuffed them with rags best we could. There were hooks across the back of the room for their hats and coats. A small. table stood by the door with a water bucket and dipper. A table was on a platform in the front for the teacher’s desk. There were two blackboards and two benches across the front as recitation benches. The children sat at desks made for two, but sometimes occupied by three because of the crowded conditions. A large “pot-bellied” coal stove sat in the middle of the room and furnished all the heat they ever had. Those nearest the stove got blistered faces, and those on the outter row got frozen feet if we forgot to rotate about every hour.

In the school lot was a pump from which we carried our drinking water. A coal shed provided the fuel for the stove. The other buildings on the grounds were marked “boys” and “girls” and it was a contnual wonder to me that they didn’t fall over some time when a half dozen giggling girls or bragging boys would crowd in. The last year’s catalogues that could be spared from the homes were put to use here.

One family by the name of Collins sent five children to school. The oldest boy I had was from that family. I will explain later how he helped me. They walked across a hill two and a half miles and seldom missed unless there was some urgent work at home. They invited me for Thanksgiving dinner. That was the first turkey I ever ate, and I thought I had a real treat.

The days were full. and busy, but the evenings and nights were almost unbearable. In the early fall, I would go with Mrs. Wagoner to the barn lot and sit on a stump while she milked. There was a whipporwill in the meadow that cried each night, and it gave me the most lonely feeling I have ever had. I still cannot enjoy hearing one, for I feel alone, regardless of how many people may be around. There were two warm rooms in the house when winter descended upon us, the sitting room where they had a gas stove, and the kitchen with its huge woodburning stove. We ate in the dining room without heat, so no one tarried long at the table. There was no bathroom, so everyone washed in the kitchen. The stove had a large built-in container for water, so there was usually plenty of hot water at all times. There was no sink, so a bucket was set by the washstand and the water was emptied into it. In milder weather we just went to the door and threw the water into the yard, but in cold weather you just didn’t open the door that often.

We ate good country food: milk; butter; potatoes; apples; pork and dried bearis. We always had biscuits, meat and gravy for breakfast and corn bread the other two meals. I longed for light bread, and one day she let me make a batch. All of them liked it, so she learned to make it and we had some every week. It tasted better than a cold biscuit with apple buttter in a lunch pail at school.

These mountain people were very superstitious. They used to explain their contacts with ghostly appearances, and then I would cover up my head all night. I had heard ghost stories before, but never believed in them. I still didn’t, but the differences in culture and thought would get next to me in the dark and cold of that lonely room. I wondered sometimes if witchcraft might not be a partial reality.

One day we were cutting apples and a “news bee” hovered around my hands. Mrs. Wagoner said he was trying to give me some bad news, and that of a surety, I would get it by mail within a week. Sure enough, I heard of the death of one of my distant relatives. She said, “See, I told you so. You must learn to accept the truth.” They felt that “much learning” had made me incapable of living a simple life!

Life became less tedious for a while because I found a boy friend. I believe he worked there on a nearby farm for a few weeks. We met at the Box Supper at the schoolhouse. I must tell you first about that unusual. social event. It was a money making project for the school. The women of the community prepared some good food, like a picnic lunch, and boxed it. The box was made as attractive as possible with crepe paper so the wen would want to buy it for a good price. The girl whose box brought the highest price was a real celebrity. She was the queen of the community for months to come. The boxes were sold at auction, and then the girl must eat with the one who bought her box. Husbands were expected to buy their wives’ boxes, or there would be talk. I believe we made around $40.00 that year, and it was used to purchase materials for art classes. I got watercolors, crayons, colored chalk, art paper, patterns and so forth, for the children to use. They had never had such a wonderful opportunity before. We took all of Friday afternoons for them to do creative things, and some of them were quite good. We always had decorations on our walls and windows that were appropriate to the season.

My first and biggest discipline problem almost finished me. There were two teenage boys who spent their nights coon hunting. They would come to school late and sleepy. They were the trouble makers who had whipped the teacher the year before and “run her off.” One day they brought their hound dog and chained him up at the front door. He soon tuned up in a loud concert, and I told them to loose him and send him home. Reluctantly they did so, but they brought the chain in and began to pull it back and forth across the desk. I told them to put it away, but to no avail. Then I asked that it be brought to my desk. They refused and suggested that I try to take it.

I have always been quite stubborn and determined to finish what I started. So I went back to get that chain. They stood up with clenched fists and waited. As I passed the stove, I picked up the poker. I never knew whether I would have used it or not, and they didn’t either. The oldest boy, Lonnie Collins, stood and moved over to assist me, and the others of his family followed suit. The two boys soon saw they were alone, and they placed the chain in my outstretched hand. What a relief! They never returned to school another day that year. The pattern of getting rid of the teacher was broken and by the next day I felt my nervous tension gone.

As you can see, I survived that term, but I was not willing to go so far into no-man’s land the next year. I applied nearer home and got a school on Sycamore, in Doddridge County. It was about eighteen miles from home, but could as well have been eighty. When the roads got bad, there was no way to get out except to walk or ride horseback. I walked out once and rode horseback many times.

Many exciting things happened to me at this second teaching appoiritment. I found a place to board at Thomas Swiger’s, which was within sight of the schoolhouse. Swiger was the most common name in the community. The family consisted of the couple and their three children, Dallas, about twenty-one, Ila, my age, and Loy, who went to school. A couple months later they took two grandsons.

The house had two main rooms and a shed kitchen. There was an attic where the boys slept. The downstairs rooms had large open fireplace where gas was burned for heat. A large wood stove had been converted into a gas stove in the kitchen, so they had things modern and more convenient than most of those who lived around them. I believe their gas was free because they had some wells that were in use by the Hope Natural Gas Company.

Ila and I shared one room and one bed. Later, when the grandchildren came, we shared the bed with the two year old. The bed had no springs, just slats, and a straw tick which was filled with new straw each fall. Every day when you made up the bed, you stirred the straw to fluff it. Some people had a feather tick over the straw tick, but we were not that fortunate.

Every day’s menu was the same. For breakfast we had biscuits, butter, molasses, fried potatoes, pickled beans, canned peaches and maybe once a week an egg. At noon and at night we had corn bread instead of biscuits and the remainder of it was the same. There were times, however, that we would have some pork, kraut, and dried beans. I don’t think I ever sat down at that table when there wasn’t a dish of pickled beans.

The Swigers had some peach trees way back on the hill and they couldn’t afford to make many trips back there with the wagon. So when they went, they picked all the peaches, which were quite green. They didn’t waste things, so they canned them at once, and without sugar. I have never been too fond of canned peaches to this day.

Pickled beans were plentiful. They picked bushels of nice beans and all the neighbors came in to help string them. The next day they were cooled and placed in a large barrel, we called them rain barrels, for everyone kept one or more at the eaves of the house to catch rain water for washing clothes. In two weeks or so, they were sour enough for table use and became the mainstay for the winter. They did not think beans or corn should be canned. How grateful I am for canned and frozen vegetables!

I believe thirty-some students appeared that first day of school. We had a new schoolhouse and it had good lighting (sunlight) and, wonder of wonder, two cloak rooms and a gas stove for heat. The community was justly proud of their modern school. Five of the students were grown young men. I made the terrible mistake the first day of asking if any of them could use a scythe and cut the weeds on the school. yard. They didn’t say much then, but their looks spoke louder than words. The idea of asking a farm boy if he could cut weeds! I remember some of their names: Harry Holbert; Brent Ashcraft; and Archie Swiger. (I have been Mrs. Archie Swiger for forty-three years) The others I can’t recall their full names. One was Orville and the other was a Smith.

I am not sure that I taught them much, but we kept busy. We added art and music to the regular subjects. We had practice in public speaking by having a community program once a month. The small children said memorized pieces and the older ones debated with students from other schools. The school was the heart of all community activity, and the teacher could have a very strong influence over them.

If we went anywhere at night, all the young people went in a group. There were several who had finished school so that we would be a group of around eight or ten when we attended a program at another school or went to a revival. Anywhere we went, we had a big hill to climb and fences to get over or through. We thought nothing of walking three or four miles, and then back home again. Once in a while some of the girls would not be permitted to go, and then Ila and I would have to stay home, for it would not look good for just two girls to go with several boys. Usually, if Ila’s brother was along, we were permitted to go.

Another social event of the area was the visit of the teacher to most of the homes for a weekend visit. There was likely to be a gathering of all the young people at that home on Saturday night or Sunday afternoon. We would pop corn. roast chestnuts, dig apples out of the winter storage hole, and just have a good time.

I enjoyed this school year, but I didn’t want to go back another year because of the problem of a place to stay. I couldn’t go back to the same place again because Ila and I had a “falling out” and I didn’t stay there the last two weeks of that term. I have no idea what our problem was. The home where I spent those two weeks was not a satisfactory place, for the man drank and she didn’t want anyone to know it; so she wouldn’t take me. (Of course I had known it ever since I arrived there, but one didn’t let on about such things.)

My third year of teaching was back in the same county where I taught the first year, only it was not so far out. I had a nice place to stay near the school which was in the little village of Berea where I had lived as a small child. Dad was teaching in the same county about four miles up Otterslide. I knew everyone in that area, so it was not so lonesome. Some of my relatives lived there. Aunt Callie and her family, and many cousins once or twice removed.

The year was more or less uneventful until March, when I took quite ill. A doctor was called after several days. He had to come five miles, so you didn’t call him for every ache or pain. He said I had appendicitis and must be operated on at once. It was five miles to a paved road and six more miles to the railroad and then forty miles to the hospital. The country roads were impassable for an automobile, yet the doctor said I could not ride in a wagon. You should have seen that procession. They put me in the back: seat of a Ford and hitched a team of horses to pull it to the paved road.

I survived the ordeal and the operation, but didn’t get back tofinish the term of school. An old retired teacher in the community did that for me.

During these years of teaching, I attended summer school and got my permanent teacher’s certificate and a Standard Normal from Salem College.

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