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that trip going East, the train layed over all one night on the siding. When the conductor came through the next morning he wanted to know if we slept well. We said, “yes.” He said, “you should have. We parked this train on the siding all night so you’d get a good night’s sleep.” Then he laughed and went on. He said to my father, “there was a wreck on the line.” Father said he knew the train had stayed on the siding all night. My sister and I had slept so sound we didn’t know it until we awoke and the train was going. Upon arriving in Portland a big tent revival meeting was in full swing. The tent held five or six hundred people and was full every night with people standing outside. We all took time out of evenings to attend. They were wonderful meetings. My sister and I got to sing in the large choir. Finally I became one of the personnel workers. When the altar calls were given, I would talk with some who raised their hands but yet lacked courage to make a start. I would walk down that sawdust trail with them and kneel down and pray with them until one of the special altar workers would take over. I would then talk to others among the crowd. The meetings were of no one denomination but the two evangelists were Methodist. What good meetings they were. I don’t know when I had enjoyed myself more. It seemed to me it was just the thing I wanted to do for I was so happy helping in my small way. When the time came for them to move on to another large city, I was lost for awhile but the memory was sweet. Several times in an evening and sometimes more, I would walk that trail, with someone undecided, to give them faith and courage to grasp a better life and to have Christ in their hearts. Some had said they just couldn’t take the step even though it seemed so clear and plain to them. “You don’t know,” they would say, “my home isn’t a home” or “my wife is divorcing me.” Maybe it was “we have no control over our children.” But somehow the Lord would put the right answers in my mouth for what they were saying seemed of little consequence compared to the answers that came back in return. Scripture would come to me at times like that where other times it would fail me when I was in a more careless or thoughtless mood. I have lived and relived some of those talks and answers as the years have gone by, especially where their main plea was they were alcoholics or drug addicts and couldn’t give it up. I would tell them that nothing is impossible with God. God has cured more alcoholics than medicine if you are willing to put your whole faith and trust in him. Live for him and let him be the caretaker of your soul, mind and body. My life was made happier through those experiences. Thus the Bible became more precious to me. I read it each night before retiring.
I was eighteen that September tenth, nineteen hundred and ten. “It hardly seemed possible. We had been back in Portland nearly two months. I had had letters from Frank and the two Jims. Frank was rather put out because I had not written or told him we had gone East and was there most of the summer. He said he would have come to see me. Jim, Ida’s nephew, had been in Philadelphia and had gone there just before we went East and back to our old home. He learned too late that I was there so wrote me at our new address in Portland. The main statement in his letter was that he was coming out to Portland and take me back. I answered his letter right off. I said, “we’d like for you to come very much but don’t plan on taking me back.” That just about finished our letter writing. After some time he wrote saying it was impossible for him to come because of his job. I put that letter aside and I don’t remember if I ever answered it or not. About six months later we heard he was married to a Philadelphia girl. I was very glad and happy for him, for I, as yet, had not considered marrying anyone. The second Jim’s letter was so friendly and nice. He was so pleased we had gone to our old home town and state and had had a good visit with all our old friends. Finally too I began writing less and less to him.
Our rainy season had set in, just warm-like showers. The roses were still blooming as Portland was called the Rose City. No one quit work in that country because of rains. It was somewhat like a mist that lasted the winter through. Sometimes they would get what they called a “silver thaw.” Every branch, every leaf, every wire, every pole and every house top was coated with ice. Even rosebuds were encased in ice. Lots of damage was done when one of those came. Electric wires and so forth were down and walking was dangerous. It always seemed like, to me, that more people got out on rainy days than good. Umbrellas bobbing up and down with rain coats, overshoes and rain hats under them. The working men wore those raincoats called slickers and big rain hats. Rain didn’t seem to bother anyone there.
My sister and her husband came with us that same fall we did. They too, were a bit tired of the Montana cold. Their son, William Pruden, Jr., was a big handsome, rosey cheeked boy and took the notice of most people. He and Harry and Ida’s girl, Mary, used to have quite a time at my parents. Their grandma would always want to give them some candy, cookies or oranges. Mary would always take hers and thank grandma for it. But Pruden Jr. or Buster as we called him wouldn’t. Then he’d remark, “mama got some.” He and
Mary would go in the parlor and stand in front of the big window and here, with their arms around each other eat together what grandma had given Mary. Sallie and Pruden stayed on with us. He got a job clerking a store and that September, 1911, their second boy, Robert Harry, was born. They liked being in that warm climate so well they rented them a home.
There was a nice boy who used to take orders each morning and deliver by going from house to house for his father’s butcher shop. I had met him several times by going to the shop to buy meat for my mother. He was tall with blond, curly hair and blue eyes, a very nice boy. Each morning when he came to our house to take an order, if he didn’t see me, he’d ask where I was, of my mother. Most generally I was around someplace and we’d stand and talk until I’d tell him you’ll miss out on some orders if you don’t get to going. We did a lot of talking on the back steps and once in awhile he’d come in and have me play the piano for him. Though he asked, I never went any place with him. I remember his last name but I am not quite sure of his first name. Yes, it was “Morris,” his first name. I can see him now as plain as day.
After Sallie and Pruden moved to their home, father found, through the man he was contracting and building for, a much larger and nicer home. So we moved to it. It had a large attic with large rooms. Wilhelmina and I immediately took us one of those rooms. There were three large bedrooms, a big bath and hallway upstairs on the second floor. It had a very large kitchen, dining room and a large front room and hallway downstairs and a basement as large as the house below. Which was very nice for keeping and storing things. We could keep wood and coal dry for the coal furnace. The furnace made it nice for heating such a large house. A large front and back yard and located in a grand neighborhood.
My brother and his wife and little daughter moved in with us because the house was so large and we all got along nicely. That February their second child, a boy was born to them. It was February 8, 1911. He was given the name of Harry Claud.
That winter seemed to slip past rather fast. Our neighbors came often and visited. We attended church and made many friends. When spring came mama would liked to have made a garden but the yard was all seeded to blue grass which had to be mowed instead of hoed. Vegetables were pretty cheap anyway in that big city. A man with a small wagon and little grey horse came around twice a week selling every kind of vegetable and fruits that were in season. Mama always took a basket out and picked over and bought what we needed so we didn’t lack for fresh vegetables and fruits. The grocer came as well as the butcher each morning and took your order then delivered what you ordered by eleven a.m. which made it nice for housewives who didn’t have the time to dress up and go to the store in the mornings when they were so busy. I think that was the only place we lived that they did that.
When spring came, Pruden and Sallie bought a lot and built themselves a small home. It was some blocks from our place. I used to have fun caring for their two boys. They made a small garden and there was a fruit tree or two on it.
Spring faded into summer and that August the three girls we knew and liked so well when we lived in Great Falls, Montana, came to visit us. They stayed two weeks. We really had a wonderful time. We took in everything worth seeing in and around Portland. We got up early one morning and took what is called the trip up the Columbia River to the Dalles. We left around seven a.m. It was truly a beautiful, scenic trip with water falls, mountains, lovely homes and farms along the way. That afternoon as we were eating dinner we started to go through the locks. The boat tipped badly, sliding some of the dishes into our laps. We nearly went over backwards and would have had not the waiters grabbed our chairs .We got afraid that the boat would sink. The waiter explained it by saying it was the raising of the water and whirlpools in the locks. The wharf was loaded with vegetables, fruits, chickens and what have you ready to be shipped. A little boy came aboard with a basket of such luscious looking peaches. We bought some to eat, as did most of the other passengers. I don’t think I have ever eaten sweeter peaches. The trip was beautiful going but more wonderful in the moonlight returning. There was a couple of fellows that had tried all day to get acquainted with us but we had avoided them until now. They slipped around and asked if they might set down with us on the moonlight deck. As we talked you could hear the water beating and splashing against the side of the boat. I finally got up and walked over by the rails gazing deep into the old Columbia as the boat plowed toward Portland. I watched its waves with the moonlight shining on them. At home, mama had become worried and had asked my brother if he would go down to the wharf to meet us. When the boat pulled in and docked around midnight, there was my brother standing there as the gang plank was lowered. We came ashore and he hustled us away and we barely made the last trolley home which was about a ten block ride. I felt sorry for my brother. He had lost his sleep waiting to see that a bunch of fun loving girls made it home safe. Mama was still waiting up for us. Somehow, I guess, we had failed to tell her how long we would be on the trip. She figured that was too late for girls to be out.
And so the two weeks soon passed. We went to the depot that lovely August morning to bid the girls goodbye. They hated to leave and we wishing they could stay longer. Soon the train pulled out and we were waving like mad at each other as it roared down the tracks with three girls Montana bound. That was the last we ever saw of the girls but we corresponded once in awhile with each other.
That February we learned of homestead land in Idaho. We all thought it would be of great interest to have and live on a homestead in the West. We had read so many stories along that line. So when spring came, father took his suitcase that mama had packed and
headed for Idaho. He wound up in the town of American Falls, Idaho whose inhabitants could be counted easily. The depot was about the biggest part of it. It was a wheat and cattle country. Not having anyway, at the time, to get to Malta, a small inland town where you had to sign up for these homesteads, he bought himself a bicycle and peddled the thirty or forty miles’ to this small inland town. He got a team and buggy there to drive fifteen miles to Sublett which was a store and post office. He looked over these homesteads. Here again was dry farm grain and grazing for cattle. It was a pretty country. My father selected a nice place of a hundred and sixty which was the amount you could homestead. It was on Shirley Creek, up near the mountains or what they call “bench land.” In the summer the rains follow these ranges of Mountains. You are more likely to get rains and more of it than you would down in the “flats” or low land. He got his homestead all fixed up, sold his bicycle in Malta and took the stage back to Burley. There he took the train for Oregon. We were all waiting with great excitement and interest for the news. Upon papa’s arrival, we talked that evening through, until quite late. He told Harry how he had picked out a nice place for him adjoining ours if they got back there before someone else signed up on it. That put us in a big hurry to go. Preparations were soon underway for that trip, by buying and packing things necessary. Father even bought a wagon, harness and team of horses. He got a box car and started storing these things in it. He bought lumber and needed stuff for two homes, one for us and one for my brother’s family.
Finally the day came when we bid farewell to our neighbors who came to wish us well. The box car was on its way. It was dark, around nine or nine-thirty, when the train we left on rolled out of the depot bound for Idaho. Harry went with the box car on account of the horses needing feed and water. Anyway we were off there were a few tears in our eyes as we headed for a strange land something none of us knew anything much about. The trip was very fascinating, with much beautiful scenery along the way. As the train rolled along I began to daydream of that little home somewhere in Idaho out among the sage brush, coyotes, cattle, and ticks. I had not dreamed much of a little mountain stream but it was there alright, running clear as a crystal and just as cold. It came from lofty ledges where it originated.
About midnight we got into Minidoka, on the main line. This was about the middle of or May 10, 1912. My sister and I were quite tickled when we saw a fellow come with a wheelbarrow to take our suitcases to the little two-story wooden structure which was their one and only hotel. There was very little at Minidoka that year except for the depot, railroad track, a cafe and several houses.
When we were taken to our room, we found just the old fashioned bowl and pitcher on a wash stand in one corner of the room. But for all, the bed was quite comfortable. We slept well and awoke with the dawn. My sister and I lay thinking and talking of what we thought the country might be like. We saw very little of it in and around Minidoka by arriving after night. Arising, we washed and dressed. Just then mother knocked on the door and walked in. She said they were all ready to go down to the cafe for breakfast.
It was rather chilly that a.m. so we slipped on light jackets and were off. As we walked in folks in the cafe seemed to be staring at us. The waiter wasn’t long asking where we were from and where bound. Father said, “Rupert, for the present.” “Yes sir,” the fellow replied, “that’s going to be a fine country one of these days.” “What do you mean, one of these days,” father asked. “Well,” he said, “it’s new and they sure have lots of wind and jack rabbits but they got plenty of water. One day they’ll lick those obstacles.” “Well that’s fine” father replied, “but we are going out about fifty miles from Rupert in a wheat and cattle country soon as we can build two houses out there.” “You going to get some land through Uncle Sam, I judge.” “Yes,” father said. “You don’t look like that kind of a family,” he replied as he picked up his tray of dirty dishes and left. Father paid the bill and we went back to the hotel, packed our suitcases and came down stairs into the small but neat waiting room. Once more the man with the wheel barrow appeared, loaded our suitcases and was off to the depot with us walking behind and here we sat on the long seat waiting. The train was late that morning. It seemed hours that we sat there when it was only a short while until the train came steaming in. The three train men headed for the little cafe while the passengers and freight was being loaded. Here we sat straining our eyes, looking at the vast desert that stretched for miles into nowhere, so it seemed. Again we began to wonder, was this where we wanted to live, this somewhat forsaken country where the winds blew at will shifting the sands and the mournful cry of the coyote that fell on your ears at dusk and daybreak. Finally we consoled ourselves that where we were going would never be like this.
We had not long to wait now. The conductor was calling all aboard. The bell was clanging, then the whistle gave two sharp toots and the train started out and we were off, still gazing through the window at the glare of the morning sun on the sage and the silence of the desert. Here and there a jack rabbit scampered away as the train whirled up the dust in passing. It was so dry it seemed to make our faces burn for we were used to that moist Portland, Oregon, climate. Harry’s two children were very fussy. And mother was trying to help Ida with them. They too seemed to dislike the dry atmosphere.
Things began to look somewhat better as the train drew nearer to Rupert. Some were getting their suitcases ready as if anxious to get off. Father now was getting ours down. The train was blowing for the crossing. The conductor came through the train calling, “Rupert, next stop, Rupert,” as he went on his way. It was all dutch to us, sounded like a nice enough name, but what was it like? The train was slowing down. People with their suitcases were moving down the aisle. Father handed each of us a suitcase while he carried three and mother a smaller one. We moved down the aisle with the conductor
saying, “watch your step.” The porter, standing to one side, said “let
me assist you lady,” speaking to my sister-in-law for in her one arm Was her little son and the other was holding her little daughter’s hand tight. I could almost guess her thoughts, for if ever she needed her husband it was now. But, he had volunteered to go with the box car of freight for someone had to water and feed the team of horses. The train had gone on its way now and we were left standing on the depot platform. From the looks of those who descended, Rupert had increased quite a bit in the last few minutes. Some went one way, some another and horses and buggies were waiting for others. We stood for some little time looking in all directions. My father asked the station agent of a good place to stay and he pointed about two blocks to a wooden structure on the southeast comer of the square and said quite a lot of people stay there. All around the square were small wooden structures that May of 1912. The rooms were clean and comfortable. We were all tired and somewhat disappointed. A tent would have looked good to us right then, especially Ida with her two small children. The next night the freight pulled in and our box car of freight was shunted onto a siding. You never saw two people more glad to see each other.
Houses were small and hard to find, but father had hurried around all that next day and had finally found one that evening when the freight came in. The next day found a busy family getting our furniture moved into what would be home for us for some months to come. My father and brother lost no time in getting the lumber moved to our ranch, some fifty miles away at Sublett or in the foothills near Sublett on a little creek named Shirley Creek. Their first trip though was for my brother to go to Malta and file a claim on the hundred and sixty adjoining our place. Then the task of building the houses soon got into progress while we women folk stayed at Rupert and took in its surroundings.
We soon made friends and church people came to call. My sister and I were asked to sing in the choir and we did. We are also asked to sing solos which we did. We enjoyed going to the little Methodist church. The Baptist church found out we were Baptist. So the minister and his wife came calling. They were extra nice Eastern folks but we didn’t change. For we figured we would soon be moving to the ranch and we had already gotten acquainted with the people in the Methodist church.
My sister and I used to like to go walking around the square and shop. One morning we walked into a dry goods store. The lady who managed it came up to us and said, “you are not Idahoans.” We said, “how do you know?” She said, “from your white or fair complexions.” She then said, “you’ve come from the coast.” We said, “Portland.” She said, “I knew it. After you live here awhile you’ll lose that fair complexion.” I said, “I already have. This sun and dry wind makes my face burn.” We made some purchases then hurried to get home. The first thing I did was look in a mirror to see how much I had suntanned.
The next morning I was singing and washing the dishes when a young fellow knocked at the door to take orders for groceries and then deliver them later. I was somewhat talkative that morning and we talked for quite awhile while mama fixed out an order to give him. When he returned with the groceries we talked some more. That was the forerunner of someone else I was to meet for this party boarded at his home. Each evening he’d go home and tell him about the little girl that just moved here from Portland. The day went by and “Even tide” drew nigh. My sister was trying out a new piece on the piano, one of the last we bought before leaving Portland. It was a very pretty piece and I was just as anxious to learn it so I joined her there. As I sat thus taking in each note and sound, a melancholy feeling crept over me.
When we had retired I was still drifting and dreaming. Sleep would not come for I was once again, in my dreams, back home, my childhood home. I was turning over in my mind happenings, the old barn, skating pond, the hill where we spent so many happy hours coasting on chilly winter days, old Alice and her gingerbread that I like so well. It was evening and we had returned from school and father from work. Old Alice was putting the supper on the table as we gathered there. This was always a happy occasion for the family to discuss the happenings of the day. My mother was there at bed time roasting a pan of peanuts for us to enjoy before retiring. The mill and the steam engine that ground the com and sawed the wood. I could visualize the yard full of horses and wagons and people on milling day. The boy with the white goat and wagon and our store with its many attractive things to a child. I was once again on my pony visiting the many haunts of those early morning rides. Yes, it was all there in my dream. Now we were leaving it and the new country we moved to proved just as nice. I can hear my brother-in-law say now, “what a lovely spacious home you have. And Frank’s words in the letter I received just before moving West were, “wherever you go, I wonder if you will ever be able to entirely forget what you are leaving behind?” No, I hadn’t. I didn’t think the time would come when I ever would and most of all the little church in the Wild Wood
With its city Sunday crowd and the happy times we enjoyed there.
Somehow, I don’t know when, I drifted off to sleep. It must have been toward morning for the night was dark. And one of those Idaho dust storms seemed to come up from nowhere. The dust found its way in around the windows and under the doorsills. The house was quiet and still except for the wind.
I was awakened the next morning by the odor of fresh rolls baking. My good sister-in-law had arose early that morning to prepare and bake them, a delicious treat for breakfast. She had made up the dough the night before. I sat up in bed rubbed my eyes and hastily dressed. Breakfast was on the table and most everyone seated “Well!” they said. “Here’s sleepy head. What happened to you?” Harry and Ida’s little boy lay whimpering in his crib wanting to be taken up. Their little girl sat in her high chair without a care banging her spoon on her plate. Soon we were seated and “thanks was returned for all things good.” Truly what was on the table merited thanks, but as I gazed out of the window, the outside had not merited that much to me, yet. As I gazed the feeling crept with in me, we had made our choice, there was no turning back. We were destined to become part of this, and would be for years to come. This country of wind, dust and shifting sand, this country where we would carve out a home, would become dearer to us than any place we had ever lived before, for Idaho was a nugget in the rough waiting to be polished. And we were “Destined to go West.”

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That afternoon, as I planned to walk back, Pruden said, “I’ve got some time off and I’ll take Sallie and you for a drive and then go into town.” When we started out we went up a hill and continued until we were up on a very high hill. Here we stopped and took in the country. Over there said Pruden is what they call the Montana Bad Lands, only fit for grazing and not too good for that. He pointed in the distance toward an Indian reservation and the army fort about eight miles out of Havre. It really was a beautiful country, green as far as your eyes could look, but there was something lacking, houses and trees on either side of the road. Instead, the houses were miles apart and most generally built in a little valley, hidden or obscure from the road. There they would be a little more sheltered from the cold Montana winters. Its vastness was almost frightening but I loved it all. I wasn’t wanting to return East, for there was something here that drew and exhilarated one. The climate gave one a new feeling of being. It was cattle and sheep country where grain and hay were the main crops.
When we wound up in town it was dull and dreary to me, as towns always were. But my appetite was still keen from the drive and supper took on a delicious smell, coming from the kitchen, especially the rhubarb pie Ida had made from some rhubarb growing in the small garden back of the house. As we all sat down to the table my brother-in-law lost no time in complimenting her on the pie. She said, “oh go on, you act as though I had never made a pie before.” The baby, in her high chair, was growing fat and strong now. Pruden, looking toward the baby, said, “you’ve got us beat now but you wait. We’ll be having one of those sometime and I’ll bet it’ll be a boy. Anybody want to take me up on that?” Everyone was silent. Finally Harry said, “we’ll wait. Time will tell.”
After supper we all gathered around the piano in the parlor and had a good sing. Ida sang alto which always made the songs and hymns we sang so much prettier. It was wonderful, seemed like old times. It was the first time we had done that since being in Montana. For a moment I closed my eyes and we were all back home again having one of our usual good times around the piano. My two sisters played duets then Harry and two sisters played two trio pieces which were very pretty. Later on I added my bit by playing. I loved to play but I played in my own way, by ear. Everybody clapped and Said play some more. Pruden said, “play one of those ragtime pieces or better still play Frank’s favorite song, “A Hammock Built for Two, and sing it.” I did and I’ll put the words here:
A Hammock Built for Two, above the skies of blue
a boy who whispered Sue,
You’re the only little girl on earth will do.
A hug or sigh or squeeze,
A kiss floats on the breeze
as they kept on swinging
to each other clinging
in a Hammock Built for Two.

The above was the chorus. I’ll not bother to write the two verses. Father and mother were enjoying all of this to the utmost for they had a pleasant look on their faces, as they sat there with their arms around each other. These were their children grown up. They were proud of their family and their daughter-in-law and son-in-law and most of all, of their granddaughter.
It was somewhat late that night when my sister and husband started for home. A bright moonlight night but the air was still a bit chilly for June. In fact, it wouldn’t have been back home, but out here it was.
The next morning as I came down to breakfast, I overheard my parents talking and discussing the work situation. There was very little of the kind of work my father and brother did in this small sheep and cattlemen’s town. Without work my father soon became restless for he was a man that liked to be busy. Upon hearing of a considerable amount of building going on in Great Falls, father made a trip up there, found work, and rented a house. We moved up there and were soon settled in that beautiful city. It wasn’t long until father and Harry were contracting and building houses.
That summer, I still remember for we had such a nice time there going to church, parties and etc. Among the young people we met were three girls, daughters of a business man in that city. Their names were Elsie, Bertha and Constance. We went most everyplace together. Later on near neighbors of ours, a rancher’s wife, gave a party for their five boys and invited us. There we met two of their sons that we went with quite a lot that summer. Carl and Joe were very nice boys.
It was such a lovely city that my sister and I used to just like to take walks of evenings down its shaded streets. There too was a big copper smelter. Father finally got permission from some of the head ones of it to take us through. We got to see just how it was run and
copper refined. Even after our permit there were still places we weren’t allowed to go. They said just by getting a few drops of water in one of the copper molds caused the death of one man, blinded three and injured several. It was called the B& M Copper smelter. I was enjoying that summer intensely but I still missed those long pleasant walks out to the ranch on Milk River and the little white house against the hillside where my sister and husband lived. As a month and over had gone by I began to wonder how they were. Some days later a letter came announcing the birth of a fine, big boy along
in July, 1909. They gave him his father’s name bu the was nicknamed Buster which stuck with him for years. My parents were very proud of him for that was their second grandchild.
When their son was older Pruden and Sallie came to see us at Great Falls. As my brother-in-law put it they were just taking a few days leave from the ranch. They only stayed a couple of days but we enjoyed their visit so much. We told them what a fine looking son they had. “Well,” Pruden said, “he comes by it naturally. Just take a look at his father.” Then he laughed. Sallie said, “oh, yes!” Pruden went with Harry and father on the works. He thought that was something he would like to do or at least learn.
As Pruden, Sallie and little Buster left to catch the train to go back to Havre, but came back later and went with us to Portland, Oregon, we went to the depot with them and waved goodbye as the train pulled out. Then my sister and I stopped in town and did some shopping. Upon arriving home, I found the mail had brought me three letters, one from the Jim I met on the train, the Jim in Virginia and Frank in New York. They were all nice friendly letters. I put them aside to answer at a more convenient time and went to help mother with getting the evening meal. Wilhelmina sat down to play over some late songs we had purchased. They were very pretty and I was wild about learning them. One of them I knew somewhat because I had heard Carl whistling it. By listening to Wilhelmina play them I could soon learn to play them also. As the days went by I accomplished my aim. There were times that I just loved to play and sing for an hour or more.
One morning while finding nothing much to do, I was reading through a magazine and found where they wanted someone to get subscriptions to it. Thinking that was something to occupy my spare time, I started out early one morning. ‘It was then about the first of October and the mornings were rather chilly. Hurrying along from house to house I was surprised at most everyone, because at nearly every home I got a subscription to that little magazine. On my way back on one of those mornings, I met a large like lady whom I had seen passing our house quite frequently. With her that morning was her little girl about four years old with long dark red curls. She spoke and I returned the greeting. Then she paused and said, “the air is quite chilly this morning.” For a little bit I thought she was speaking of her little girl’s hair and in reply I said, “Your little girl does have beautiful hair.” She replied by saying, “yes, her hair is quite pretty.” Then I caught on. I thought to myself, she must be English for I had heard they left the “H’s” off where they should be and put them on where they shouldn’t be. I had been accused of Southern talk but this was a new turn of affair. I bid her good day and hurried on, wanting to finish my rounds for that day, then home to figure just what kind of a prize I would get. I had been sending in my subscription money and the magazine had sent me a book of the many prizes they gave. I began looking through its pages. There were dolls, roller skates foot balls and what have you. Finally when I got to the last page, there was the most beautiful set of dishes. I thought I’ll get those for my mother. Figuring up, I only had a few more subscriptions to get then I could turn the last of the money in and have the dishes sent. I danced around and hummed a tune for I was quite happy over the thoughts of what I was going to do. The time soon slipped by, and my order for the dishes had been sent.
It was getting very cold in that country and some men on the job were telling my father and brother about the new additions being added to Portland, Oregon, and all the building that was going on there so they planned to take off as soon as they finished the job they were on. My folks talked it over and they agreed if they could go where it was warmer and work most of the winter it would be better as we had nothing to lose anyway. Harry and father were finishing their last two houses and would not take on any more. Instead plans would be made for the trip. Mama agreed to sell the piano. She said we had hauled it far enough and we would get a new one when we arrived in Portland. She also parted with quite a bit of the furniture, thinking something new would look better for a change.
That day in the first part of November, 1909 arrived and we left behind a very pretty city and a host of friends. It was cold and blustery when we boarded the train for the City of Roses. I could see the pretty parks, the Margarette, The Gibson, and the one named after the famous Indian squaw, Sacajawea, that helped Lewis and Clark on some of their trips. As we hurried toward the depot, I thought of all the good times and picnics we had had there that summer. The train whistle blew, the bell started clanging and the conductor called out all aboard then the train slowly pulled out of the depot. This was a very nice trip for we went by the way of Wenatchee, Seattle, Tacoma, and Vancouver, Washington, and on to Portland. At Wenatchee the tram stopped for awhile. Here we got off during the stopover. The clouds hung so low it was almost like washing your hands in them. Outside the depot there was box after box of such big red apples. Wenatchee at that time was quite an apple country. At Seattle the train laid over long enough that we got to take a taxi and take in the city and out to the old exposition grounds. That was a nice
trip Seattle was such a pretty city. It was misting a bit as we took in the city. This was common in that country for that time of year. In fact, we found it somewhat misty the rest of the way to Portland but it was warm, grass green and flowers blooming. One could almost stand out in those mists and enjoy them like a warm shower.
We arrived in Portland the evening and went to a hotel. The next morning my father went out and bought an Oregonian paper. After we had breakfast we went back up to our rooms and started hunting a house. That very morning we found an ad saying house for
rent, mostly furnished. As mother had sold most of our furniture, that was just what we needed. Three bedrooms and bath upstairs, kitchen, dining room, and large front room downstairs and a big basement sounded just like what we wanted. My father soon had it rented and we moved in. It was a very pretty place, a half block from the end of the trolley line on Clinton Street. It was up on a hill and a lovely rolling grassy lawn with flowers and trees. Father and Harry were soon at work for there was lots of work. Soon going with us too, my sister her husband and baby son joined us there.
Around Christmas time one of the big department stores put an ad in the paper for clerks. My sister and I, having nothing to do, thought we would apply thinking we would work just until the rush was over. When it was over they asked us to stay on, out of the many girls they had hired for the rush. We worked until the first of March. The weather was getting so warm and nice outside. Wanting to have some fun and take in the pretty parks, Portland and places surrounding it, we quit.
Along in the first of April the lady that owned the house we rented made we girls acquainted with two nice Pennsylvania boys that had boarded with her for two years. She said she wouldn’t have made us acquainted with them except that she knew they were extra nice boys. That was the beginning of having a good time. My sister took to Ben and I drew Jim. That was the third Jim in my life. They were Eastern boys and we Eastern girls. They took us so many places that spring, to the large and beautiful Portland park, Council Crest, Portland’s big spring and summer resort high up on a hill overlooking the city, to Oregon City and through the paper mill so we could see how paper was made. We really enjoyed that spring.
In the meantime, father and Harry built two houses for one man and five houses as big as the one we lived in for another man. Along in the last of May my sister-in-law got word some of her relatives were quite sick. She cried a lot about it and was so homesick for them and home. So in the first of June, 1910, we stored our furniture and stuff and went by the Sunset Route that took us down through California. We started out from Portland going by Salem, Eugene, Roseburg and Grants Pass, down into Berkeley and Oakland, California. Here the train ran on a huge ferry to San Francisco. This was a lovely trip especially those mountains we went through on the start in California. On down to Santa Barbara and Los Angeles where the train ran about a hundred miles along the ocean. That was the first time any of us had seen the Pacific Ocean. This was a trip I’d never forget. We were eight days and nine nights on this trip. In Arizona we came to the little boarded up and down depot that was called Tucson. There was nothing around it for miles but a hot, dry desert. That year the heat was almost unbearable. We saw a few burros and a dead cow now and then. At the depot a woman and her little girl got on with a basket of lunch. Said she was taking it up the line to some men who were working. A Spanish boy standing on the depot was calling out his wares which were cow’s horns, painted and carved like a fish. I was told later that the little adobe town of Tucson was bypassed by the railroad when the railroad grade was surveyed and staked out. It was back in the desert some nine or ten miles. Father stepped off the train and bought a horn from the boy, as a souvenir. Dust rolled up in clouds as the train moved on. With the sun beating down, I wondered how anything could live out there at all. It was that way much of the day making the water cooler a favorite place. Finally after some miles the train slowed to a halt. There were the men working. The lady and little girl, with the basket of lunch, got off. I looked back as long as I could. The train pulled out and gained speed.
We touched the border of New Mexico and saw the monument that marked the boundary between Old Mexico, New Mexico and Texas. On into El Paso and on through San Antonio. Things looked better now. This was a beautiful city. Then on through Huston and on we traveled. In Louisiana were those beautiful old Southern mansions and some in Alabama just as pretty. We were stopped for an hour or more in that big, quaint, old, busy waterfront city of New Orleans. We left the train and got a taxi and took in the city. It was really a sight worth seeing. Out on the edges were big old plantations, well kept and worth a lot to see. Everyone felt rested when we were back on the train again and on our way. On through Tennessee and those beautiful rolling hills of Kentucky.
We had begun to miss that wonderful, Western climate. Here it was low, hot, humid and sultry. We had lived in that kind of climate all our life, but found something different by going west.
Our friends were all glad to see us and we they but we spent most of that summer in Baltimore, Maryland. My brother, his wife and little daughter spent the summer visiting with her folks. We enjoyed where we lived a home not too many blocks from one of Baltimore’s nice shady parks. There we spent a lot of time, especially my sister and I. We took daily walks through it. Toward August the sun began to bear down and in that damp climate the heat was somewhat too warm for any comfort. We visited with our friends once more and then planned to return by September.
We took the shortest way going back that time. When we arrived, we found a nice modem, three bedroom home one block from where we lived before. We were quite pleased because it was nice and also a very pretty neighborhood. It was really a nice home and we were quite busy for a week or better getting settled. The man my father and brother had built the five large homes for our first winter in Portland was ready for them again. They lost no time in getting back to contracting and building.
The trip coming back to Portland was pretty and nice but couldn’t compare with the one we had going East. One night in California on

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I’ll have to admit though, as we looked back once more at our home and as we boarded the trolley for that last trip to Norfolk, there were tears in our eyes. Mother was dabbing at hers quite frequently for she was taking it a bit hard. My brother and wife, Ida, and baby had spent a few days with her relatives before leaving. In Norfolk they joined us at the train depot just before take off time. There was much waving and good-byes, as the conductor called out “all aboard,” from the folks who had gathered to see us off., “Well, it’s Westward we are bound,” my father said after we were all seated. Mother looked up and smiled a bit but you could still see a wee trace of a tear there, when the train lurched and pulled out from the big station. Finally at last we were on our way to a country and its customs strange to us.
The trip had been wonderful and so far I was enjoying it, and I think the others were also. Soon we were in rolling country and I kept thinking it may, not be long until I would be seeing those beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains which I had dreamed of so much. Finally pulling into Richmond, Virginia, the capitol, and here we changed trains. I’ll never forget those long steep hills right in the city of Richmond. We walked up and down that windy March day in the year of nineteen hundred and nine. While waiting we went to a cafe for lunch and then returned to the depot in time to hear the man call out our train. Picking up our suitcases, we were once more seated in the Pullman car. When the conductor began calling all aboard for points West and mentioned the towns by name, I knew then we would soon be off again.
The whistle blew and the bell started clanging and the train was rolling out of the depot. Then the conductor came down the isle calling, “tickets, have your tickets ready.” I was at home again, in my thoughts, on the school trolley. How familiar were those words. I could see myself getting my school ticket book out and handing it to the trolley conductor. He would tear out the required tickets and I hand it back to me and for a moment I was dreaming amidst all of this.
I was wondering about the old crowd that rode the school trolley and who eddy would be saving a seat for and who Maggie would pick for a pal, who Ethel would confide in and who would take my place reciting the long poems at church affairs. I was always the one picked because I memorized them so easily. Would the little girl like my pony I had left behind as well as I did? Would she treat him nice and give him a lump of sugar before she took him out for a canter? Would she see that he was fed well as I did for him. My cat Boots I had rescued from a watery grave out of a sack in Julian’s Creek - would
the folks that bought the place see that he had his saucer of milk each day? Would the little red squirrels that chattered so and seemed to fly from limb to limb miss my calling and talking as I entered their domain and rode among them or sat quietly listening to the whispering of the pine trees sighing from the wind with their sweet scented pine needles. I was remembering too the little cottontail rabbits that scurried by and would sometimes sit up on their hind legs to see just who was coming and the birds singing sweetly among the pine boughs. I was leaving all this behind. Maybe the West would be better.
Opening my pocketbook, I found Frank’s last letter, unopened and unread. Leaning my head back against the seat I began to read. He summed it up this way. “Wherever you go, I wonder if you will ever be able to entirely forget what you are leaving behind?” “No,” I thought to myself, for I was already remembering and would always remember for they were precious years, childhood days that leave an imprint on one’s memory. I must have dozed off when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mama said, “we are going to have dinner now.” About that time the porter came through the car calling, “dinner, dinner, now being served in the dining car.” We made our way there and waited to be seated. My brother and wife had to have the porter get them some milk for the baby. Ida nursed the baby but never had enough so gave her the bottle to help out.
That night was the first time I had slept on a train. I happened to get the lower berth and my sister the upper. I guess I was tired for I only gazed out for awhile at the lights and things that could be seen that moonlight night as the train sped past. The bed was very comfortable and in a short while I was fast asleep.
I awakened and rose early the next morning. I had that habit from having to be at the station on time for the school trolley. I dressed and went to the dressing room to wash my face and comb my hair. Returning to my berth I found the porter already making some of the beds. My sister had passed me on the way as I was coming back. “Good morning, Miss.” He said. “If you’ll wait a bit I’ll have that berth made up so you can have your seat.” I sat in one just across the way. As he finished, my sister came back. We both sat down together and she proceeded to answer some letters she had failed to do before leaving. We talked some at the same time.
For she was the quiet one about going West. At last she brought out her thoughts on the matter saying, “do you think this was a good idea, going West?” “Well,” I said, “I hope so but right now we haven’t gotten far enough away to know.” She thought again and looking out the window said, “I don’t think it is.” I said, “let’s cross that bridge when we really get to Montana.”
About then folks began moving out to the dining car as the porter went through announcing breakfast was ready. I was feeling refreshed and fine after my good night’s rest and breakfast. My sister seemed to be a bit blue and unhappy as though she were leaving something she would lose forever. She read and re-read Sidney’s last letter and would write a little each time she read parts of it. Feeling she wanted to be alone, I slipped out into another seat. “We would not change cars any more until we got to Chicago,” I said to my father and mother who were sitting right behind me. “That’s what the conductor said,” father replied. Someone had left a magazine in the seat so I picked it up and busied myself with looking through its pages. I found an interesting story and read in between looking out of the window at scenes, as we went by.
We did not have to change trains in Chicago as we thought. Instead, ours or the main coaches of the train were backed’ onto a siding and another engine hooked on and took off. I guess they did that way because it was late and a lot of pullman travelers had retired for the night. My folks said we’d better wait. Finally the conductor came in and said passengers in the pullmans would not change trains. The porter came and fixed our berths for us. So we were in bed when the other train backed up and hooked on. With a jolt, a jerk, a bell ringing and whistle blowing we were off once again, Westward bound.
That was too much noise for me to sleep. So I gazed out of the window at the railyard and at what I thought was snow proved to be right for it was snowing against the window and right then it seemed much colder. In fact it was for we were farther west and had left the
sunny south. Flowers were blooming there and people were putting in gardens when we left. In fact, the people that bought our place were wanting to get moved in as soon as they could so they could get a garden in. Anyway I was enjoying the trip and was still enthused about it all. Yes, we knew it would be colder, for Havre, Montana on the Milk River was pretty close to the Canadian line.

Somehow I wasn’t sleepy that night so I turned my little light on in the berth and wrote several cards. I can still hear the clack to clack of the rails or wheels on rails, whatever it was, as I sat there in the still hours of the night. I could hear people shoring and once in awhile someone would get out to go to the restroom. I would hear them brush my curtain as they went by. My sister leaned over from the top berth and wanted to know what I was doing. Said she couldn’t sleep either but somewhere between there and morning I fell asleep. I must have slep pretty soundly for mama reached in and shook me and said get up. Later we all went to breakfast.
And when we got to Saint Paul, Minnesota, we really did have to change trains and my was it cold! Snow every place and as we walked from the train to the depot you could see our breath like a steam engine. However the wait wasn’t too long before they started calling out our train and on what track it was and the cities it went through.
Father said come on let’s get up to the gate before the crowd gets ahead of us. So we picked up our suitcases and started. Seeing we had made a start caused all of them to get in line. The conductor was saying, “tickets, show your tickets,” as we passed through the gate.
One reason we changed trains there was we had to change to another railroad. The bunch was crowding in on my mother, being a little short. Father took her arm and too a young man stepped up and took her arm to assist her on, out of the crowd. Finally in and seated. This young man, a nice looking blond, sat just across from me. After the train pulled out he asked if he might sit with me. I smiled and nodded and he sat down. Said he was from Cut Bank, Montana, and had been in St. Paul, Minnesota, visiting some of his folks. He had a couple of magazines and we looked at them and talked. Finally he got around to asking me where I was from. I said the “sunny south lands” and told him where we were going. I said I had a married sister living out there. Well he went on, “you’ll find this a much different country and much colder than Virginia.” I replied by saying I had already found that out. I looked back and noticed another young man had also asked to sit by my sister and they seemed to be enjoying one another’s company and the trip, too.
Here the train sped on through the snowy country side and every mile seemed to be colder, when we’d stop at cities and places where we could look outside or step off of the train for a minute or two we soon got into the Dakotas, that is North and South Dakota, it was much colder still. I then began to wonder what Montana would be like as I looked out over those vast plains or prairie country. Sometimes one could see nothing for miles, only snow and little villages or small towns and cities along the railroad. Yet, there were people trying to make a living out there. Of course, that was in 1909. Before we were through the Dakotas, we got into a raging blizzard and there were snowplows along the tracks to keep them clean with crews of men to man them. They also used shovels. I was glad when we got out of the Dakotas and into Montana. It was night time though when we crossed the line so I thought we were still in the Dakotas from the vastness of the plains that stretched out as far as your eyes could see. When finally the conductor came through the train and announced we were now traveling in the state of Montana. I began to gaze out into the distance. A feeling of loneliness crept over me. Is this what we are coming to? Our home loomed up before me and all the things we had left behind, lovely home, trees, crops and ‘things worthwhile. As I thought, a voice said, “may I sit with you again?” I looked up and nodded. There was the same young man. He said, “I want to tell you this is the worst part of Montana. You may not like any of it for awhile. You see, I grew up out here but my folks were easterners. I remember how homesick mother used to get to return to our old home in the East. Finally after many years father took her back. That one trip was enough. She never wanted to go again after that. She exclaimed on her return, the west is mine. I am a part of it. I never want to return again to the East. Why, the very air you breathe out here makes one feel alive and ready to do things.” he finished.
Neither of us had asked the other’s name until just about time for him to get off at his station. Finally he said, “I am going to be leaving you pretty soon and I thought I’d give you my address.” .He handed me a card with his name printed on it and said, I would like yours in return. We might like to write to each other and I would be interested in knowing if you like Montana.” I hastily wrote mine on a card from my purse and handed it to him while gazing at the name on the card he had given me. I said, “so James is your first name?” “Yes,” he said, “but everybody calls me Jim.” Well, I thought, this is the second Jim.
The hours soon flew by and toward evening the conductor came through calling out, “Cut Bank, all out for Cut Bank.” Getting his suitcases ready and putting on his overcoat, Jim said, “this has been a very pleasant visit. I have enjoyed your company so much.” He picked up his suitcases as the train came to a standstill and the conductor called out one more time, “all out.” On the platform, Jim went past the window where I was sitting, smiled, waved and tipped his hat and vanished into the night.
That next morning we arrived at Havre. It was such a bright sunny day and only a few patches of snow, here and there, could be seen from the car window. Getting off we noticed it was quite chilly in the high mountains, enough so that one wanted to pull their collars up around their neck. My sister and I just wrapped our furs a little closer around us.
My sister Sallie and husband were about thirty miles away up in the Bearpaw Mountains and were unable, at the time, to meet us so we went directly to the hotel. There we stayed until our freight car of furniture arrived.
The next day my sister and husband came. They were overjoyed to see us. Sallie laughed and said. “My prediction came true. I am in Montana and I am living in a log cabin on a ranch, as I said when I first heard of my husband-to-be. But, at the time I didn’t know it.” We all got quite a laugh out of it. Pruden spoke up and said, “we’ll soon just be about one mile and a half from Havre. We’ll be moving to a ranch on the Milk River.
.We were at the hotel about a week before our freight car of goods arrived. Father had a house all rented and ready so we were soon moved in and comfortable.
We had only been there about two weeks when Pruden’s sister was to be married. The wedding was to be at his parents home in the Bearpaw’s. Pruden’s brother came to get us, that is my sister and I, in one of those mountain spring wagons with a large bay team hitched to it. It was about three thirty or four p.m. The evenings were cold in that high altitude and mama was afraid we’d take cold driving thirty miles that time of day with a team. I wanted to go. I wanted to see a Montana mountain wedding and square dance but my sister wouldn’t go with me. It was left to me to tell him we were sorry but we couldn’t go and explained why. To this day I wished I had gone anyway. The next time my brother-in-law saw me he said, “I know why you didn’t come. You were just too hightone to come to one of our mountain weddings and square dances.” “Oh, no!” I protested. “You know me better than that.” Then mama saved the day by telling him why, I said, “If he had come earlier we would have gone. You know we are not used to this cold country.” “Yes,” Pruden said, “I felt that was the main reason, but there sure was a lot of fellows there to meet you for word got whispered around you were coming.” He finished by saying they had danced most of the night. That Sunday at church we met a couple of nice fellows, Joe and John, that we went with just part of the time for we didn’t want to be tied down to anyone.
The days seemed long there. After supper my sister and I would go for walks. We’d walk to the end of the side walk and then climb the hill in search of pretty rocks and early spring flowers. That was a nice pastime. Upon returning we would play the piano or entertain company when they called. Then off to bed, tired enough to sleep well.
I remember Easter Sunday. It came in the middle of April that year or about that. We dressed up in our spring suits and hats and, started out. Such a lovely day, but when the services was about halt over we heard a wind and something like a pelting rain. When we came out everything was covered with snow by a driving blizzard which was still in progress. Being only a couple of blocks from where we lived, my sister and I, good at foot racing, took out. We heard someone call we’ll take you home but we were soon home. Those were horse and buggy days and most people who came had had their buggys and wagons already loaded with more than they could accommodate. We were somewhat wet though and the flowers on our spring hats were a bit droopy but it was so much fun, and we enjoyed being in a Montana blizzard for that short length of time. The next day my mother said, “you girls better answer your letters. You seem to be collecting quite a few. I had received one each from the last Jim and the Jim back home and one from Frank. My sister had several to answer also. She said, “You know what? I think I’ll just quit writing to them. They are so far away and I am not going to leave my family and go back there to live even if they did come out here for me. In that way they’ll know there’s no hope and get someone else.” “Well,” I said, “that’s fine but mine are not serious. We are only writing for the fun of it. Or maybe, she went on, “I’ll tell them I have someone out here I am going with for Sidney’s last letter states he’s coming out here to take me back. If I encourage him he will and I am having too much fun to marry and settle down right now.”
We were writing these letters in the dining room. It was a good home we were renting, three bedrooms upstairs, a large parlor, dining room and kitchen downstairs. Across the street from us was a large, nice home that belonged to one of Montana’s sheep men. He came in there in the early days and married a pretty Indian maiden. Their children were quite nice looking and he was educating them well in music and sending them to college.
Havre, in 1909, was a small town but there were a lot of pretty homes in it. My sister and I, for lack of something to do, enjoyed walking around the streets taking inventory of the different homes and how they were built by looking at them from the sidewalk.
On good days we’d set out for a hike of a mile and a half across rolling, rocky country to the ranch on the Milk river where Sallie and Pruden lived. It was a wonderful walk. We d hunt for pretty rocks and wild flowers as we strolled along, scaring up a chipmunk or
ground squirrel here and there. We loved to watch them sit upon their hole or mound and chatter. Now and again a jack rabbit or a big old snowshoe rabbit, at the sound of our feet crunching in the fine pebbles, would scurry away into the brush. Sometimes we’d pick up
a small rock and throw it to see them scurry on faster to another place of refuge. This was fun. Just before we got to the neat little white ranch home in the valley there was a long sloping hill that we would always run down to get to the house. Sometimes we would go by the road alongside of Milk River. This gurgling, rushing stream with willows growing on its banks and the black birds whistling among their branches, was always a milky color. The old maggie pie calling out every little bit was an interesting sight. Sometimes my sister would have other things she would want to do and I’d walk these trips alone. With the brisk morning air blowing across my face and inhaling its clean fresh atmosphere filled with ozone, my thoughts would wander back to our old home or the little pine forest on the eighty.
Here too, the prairie dogs, as I passed, sat on their little mounds of earth keeping up an endless chatter. Sometimes cowboys have been thrown from their horses and their horse would wind up with a broken leg from galloping along and stepping in a prairie dog hole.
I d stay a day or two. My brother-in-law who had batched quite a lot on his ranch before meeting and marrying my sister, liked to get up and get the breakfast. His pet name for Sallie was Petsie. When he’d get it ready he’d go to her bedroom door and say, “Petsie, I’ve got it ready. You get up and get the table set and the milk and cream while I go out to feed, harness, and milk the cow. I’ll be back in a little while and eat.” And when he’d get that breakfast of cowboy drop biscuits, oatmeal, coffee, eggs and bacon and the aroma of it started drifting through the house. You were awake right now, for one did not lack for an appetite in that country.

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Later that evening when mama got around to reading papa’s letter it said he was in Florida now. The work there was progressing nicely and that he would be home for Christmas. And it was a beautiful country. Everything was green and growing with flowers in bloom. Said he would bring some choice rose bushes if he had time before leaving. But instead, when he came at Christmas time, he brought a large bouquet of red roses which mama put in a vase and still kept after Christmas was over and papa had gone back to his work. He said in leaving he had one more state in which to install the pump stations and that was Georgia. Then he would be home with the family for awhile.
Pruden and Sallie now were already talking and making plans to return to Montana and ranch life. Pruden and my father had long talks, sometimes late in the night. I drew from that that when his work with the oil company was finished, his plans were to gain mama’s consent to sell and move West. My father had talked much of going West, even when I was quite young and this was the biggest chance he had had. Sallie and Pruden going out there would make my mother more than before feel the need of going for I too was always a western fan. My father never talked about it, but that I was ready to pull up stakes and go. I had read western stories and looked at western pictures until I felt I was a part of the west. The buffalos that roamed the plains, the vast hunting and fishing grounds of the Indians, their lodges and tepees were sometimes painted in colors in my oId geography book. That was one book I loved to study. If you ask me, I knew it by heart, its every river, capitol, the states and boundarys, and the mountains and its ranges. I was raised not far from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. I used to make up songs about them to sing so I was an avid mountain fan. For the big out of doors. I loved it in all its beauty and grandeur. I loved it just as God created it and finished it so long ago and looked upon his work and called it good. What better place to serve God than with the sky for a roof and the earth for a floor and a gentle breeze blowing from nowhere.
Things kept working out. My sister and husband continued to plan and soon their plans worked out. Letters came often from papa, and mama wrote back they had had a better offer for the place but said, “I am not yet just sure what we should do. This has been our home. I was raised in this country. How do I know what the West is like.” She went on writing several sheets I guess for I saw her still writing there when I had finished studying my lessons and decided it was time I should be in bed.
Frank’s letter lay unopened and unread on my dresser. I shook my head and said not tonight. I am tired and changing into night attire lay down in the soft, comfortable bed and was soon fast asleep. If I dreamed I slept too hard to know about it. It was cool and I tucked the covers in good around me as I got into bed and as I tucked them in I was and have been so many times since then, reminded of the times when my mother said you are a big girl now and you won’t be needing mama to tuck you in anymore at night. All those loving years were gone, passed at last. I was growing up. The more I thought the more I cried. I must have cried myself to sleep for when I awoke in the morning my pillow was tear stained as well as my cheeks. I think I felt just about as bad as if I wasn’t going to see my mother again. Those loving, little things that mothers do for us as children are never forgotten. They stay with us through all our life until the Lord says your day is over, put away the toys of your earthly life. It’s time to tuck you in for the night.
When Jim came that weekend he brought me a box of candy so I opened it and we ate some and passed them around. I was in high spirits as I told Jim of our plans to go west. Then I wound up on a sober note, maybe, if mama thinks it best. “Well,” Jim said, “your mother is a wonderful person and a smart one. You have a nice home and place here and everything you want. What more could you ask for?” “Well,” I said, “nothing, I guess, except to go out west.” ‘There you go again,” he said, “and where does that leave me?” “I don’t know,” I said, leaving his company, for fear more serious words would follow. Mama was preparing the evening meal and I thought that a good place to be, but he followed me there telling my mother what a wonderful cook she was. Seeing I wasn’t going to talk anymore he took his gun and went to hunt in the small forest and pasture on the north west corner of the place. I heard the roar of his gun once. I guess he must have missed or else got something. Whatever game he got, mama always had him to dress it and take it back to the city with him. City folks enjoyed things like that if only the thoughts of bagging it in the country gave it a wonderful taste.
So thus the days and weeks went by until papa’s work was finished and for the time being. He was back home by the last of January, Nineteen hundred and eight was gone and nineteen hundred and nine was on the calendar. “So, this is January 1909,”
father remarked to my mother. “Yes,” mother replied, “time seems
to have vanished and we have added one more to our family, that of a
son-in-law.” Yes, father Said, and he seems very nice too.”
February came in like a lamb that year and everyone was enjoying the nice weather. Out of doors, father and mother were walking
Walking around planning what they would do if we didn’t go West. My sister
and husband were packing, getting ready to go back to ranch life in Montana.
The days went by and they were off with tears and goodbyes and we hope to see you soon. Sallie and Pruden stepped aboard the trolley that took them to Norfolk and the railroad depot. By night fall they were rolling westward. A day or so later cards began coming back telling of the wonderful trip. Sallie wrote that the farther she went the more she wanted to go on westward. The country was new. Everything looked and seemed different. There’s something about it that enchants you and the cards continued to come. She said I know you’ll like it if you decide to come for I have become a Westerner, I think, already. I know I wouldn’t want to turn back.
“Turn back, turn back,” kept going through my mind and at last I thought I was right about wanting to go west and here was the opportunity. My sister had paved the way for the dream of several years and my mother began to think that maybe it was the right thing to do. Father and mother planned and talked far into the night. The light was still on in their room after I had put my books away and retired. Oddly enough I could look across from the southwest bedroom where I slept to the northwest bedroom where my parents slept. The house was built in a like shape. But, to get to that bedroom from mine, I would have to cross the front upstairs hall north and through two bedrooms then turn west across a small back hallway to get to my parents bedroom which was over the kitchen. Mine was one of the bedrooms over the double parlor. My brother and wife slept in the southeast room next to mine. I couldn’t blame mother for not wanting to give up that lovely, spacious home with all its nicely arranged rooms and furnishings. We were only thirteen miles by trolley from Norfolk and six miles from Virginia Beach, that big, fine summer resort on the Atlantic Ocean. We girls and our friends spent so many wonderful hours there. On certain days you could smell the salt water of the sea and hear the ocean roar on a calm night. We also got the cool refreshing breezes from the ocean on hot summer days and it was all just a nice inviting trolley ride from our home. We were somewhat tom between going and staying. Ida cried a lot about it, she would be leaving all of her relatives.
When some days later the folks that had come before came again and made my father such a good offer, mother thought we’d better take it. So the place was sold. The weeks that went by were filled with packing and discarding the things to be left behind. I was all excited about going West but here I’ll have to agree I did not enjoy this part of it. No one else did either for we were going too far to take a lot of things we otherwise would have taken. Mama would not give up her nice furniture so papa had to charter a freight car after all. I got out of a lot of it by staying in school right up to the two days before all was set to depart. The neighbors were wonderful. They wanted to help in any way they could. But most all felt badly at us moving away, after we had become part of the neighborhood and were liked so well. Finally after all the hurrying and bustling that morning arrived. My sister and I wore our bluish grey cashmere suits with hats to match and our lovely furs. My mother also, in her navy blue suit and hat, wore her furs.

pages 63,64,65

There was a through trolley from Virginia Beach to Norfolk for business people and school children that lived at the beach. It ran at 8 O’clock am. My ticket book, only to be used on school days, cost me three sixty-five per month. As I sat reviewing some of my lessons, for I didn’t get to do any studying the night before, my young friend came from nowhere and sat down beside me, just before we got to Maggie’s station. I didn’t think he was on that morning. He wanted to help me with my lessons. We worked at them for awhile but the trolley was too noisy. I closed the books remarking, “I’ll probably not get a passing grade today.’ His reply was, “I can’t believe that”. Maggie and I had visited quite a bit at the party so I wasn’t worried about sitting with her that morning.
School seemed to drag that day and nothing seemed to go right. I continued to remember the torn up looking house that morning as I left by the front door. I wondered what mother would do. I found out as I entered that afternoon. Lily was still at it, cleaning thoroughly as she always did. She said to me as I came in, “I’ll soon be ready to go. I wonder if you’ll take me home. I am sure tired.” “I certainly will, Lily” I said, going out to hitch the horse to the buggy. As my mother paid her for her day’s work, I whipped up and we were soon to her place. She then said, “you might as well take this laundry for your mother” and here she brought out a heaped up basket, washed and ironed. I said, “in that way I am killing two birds with one stone.”
She laughed in her happy way as she started to the house.
I drove off, whipping up the horses. I was soon back and could smell the delicious odor of supper cooking. As I walked through the kitchen door, mother was all in a bustle and hurry as she usually was at meal time. Her little short figure seemed to just bounce around. “I am not fixing too much tonight Annie” she said. I said, “well whatever it is it’s going to taste mighty good for I am really hungry.” They didn’t have school lunches in those days and the small lunch I did take was usually divided with someone else. I was no different than other young people, just always hungry.
When I slipped off to bed that night, I saw mother sitting, answering father’s letter. I know the days seemed long for her without father coming home for the evening meal.
The time went faster than anyone figured and Thanksgiving rolled around and mother said, “your father can’t be here so we’ll not have too much of a Thanksgiving dinner.” But my sister Sallie and her husband came back a few days before that day and my brother and wife were still with us so mama thought she’d better have Lily to come and help and we’d have a big Thanksgiving dinner after all. A letter came from papa saying not to wait as he would not be able to make it as he was in South Carolina then.
That Thanksgiving went off pleasantly. Toward evening folks came by trolley from Norfolk, some to see the baby which was growing like any healthy baby should. My brother and wife showed her off with a proud gesture. Then the visiting went on until later. Some of the young folks went back on the last trolley, remarking to mother how they had enjoyed the evening as they bade goodbye. Then they got into the carriage for my brother to drive them to the station. I had disappeared from the scene an hour before and was up in my room catching up on some of my lessons. I had gone out on the upstairs front porch to get a breath of fresh air, to take a look into the night and the big moon that shone there. I could hear the parting words as the carriage rolled out of the driveway and into the road. As I stood there I could still faintly hear the hoof beats of the team in the distance. Then as I returned through the open door into the upstairs hall and into my bedroom to go to bed I saw my sister through another door, busily engaged in writing. Two letters were open on the table before her. I judged one was from Sidney and the other Ossie. “Oh, well!” I thought and lay my head upon a nice soft white pillow and was soon in dream lands.
I did not have to go to school the next morning so I was up early, went to the kitchen and prepared breakfast as quietly as I could without waking the rest of the household. Mama, an easy sleeper, came softly down the back stairs. “Why Annie,” she said, “I over slept this morning.” “No wonder,” I said, “look how late you were up last night. There is no use being quiet any longer, this will be ready as soon as I get the table set.” Banging on the back and winding front stairs called out, if you expect to get any breakfast it’s time you were up and about. Soon footsteps were heard coming down both stairs. Some still rubbing their eyes. My sister-in-law wasn’t feeling too well because the baby had kept her awake most of the night. So my brother took up a tray of breakfast to her.
It was one of those chilly November mornings. A light drizzle of rain mixed with a few snow flakes had been coming down since early morning. For several days the light mist seemed to prevail and each rain drop seemed to have a halo around it. Finally it let up with a light covering of wet snow on the ground, that morning after the Thanksgiving holidays were over. And December too, came in with a light snow in the night. I awoke early, as usual, dressed in a blue jacket suit, slipped quietly out of the front door with rain coat, overshoes and umbrella. My lunch was in my pocket and books under my arm inside of my rain coat. A bit of a frosty nip was in the air, but it had a clean fresh smell and gave one an invigorating feeling as I walked along over the wet, white blanket nature had left the night before. A wee bit late and then I could not make as much time on the almost mile walk. Consequently the trolley wound up at the station at the same time but I had started to run when I got to the Blacksmith Shop. I heard the man in the shop say as I went by, “you’ll have to set that alarm a little earlier.” I laughed and waved to him as I hurried on. The conductor grabbed my arm and pulled me up the steps and said, “that’s the first time I’ve had to wait for you,.” My friend eddy, watching from the window, had a seat saved for me. That seven forty-five trolley was always crowded with school children and people going to work in Norfolk.
School though went off as usual that day and when I returned on the four o’clock trolley that p.m., I picked up the mail at the post office. The old postmaster, always jolly, began to tease as he handed me another letter from Frank and also two for my sister Wilhelmina and one from papa for mama.
The walk home was better than that morning. The snow too practically gone. That part of the country was somewhat sandy so water didn’t stand too long in the roads and I was walking a little fast because of the damp chill in the air. Just then the sun clouded over and looked as though we might get more snow. Finally I heard someone running behind me again. Turning, there was Ethel with books in hand and running to catch up. I slowed up my pace and soon we were walking together and talking of the day’s happenings for she too always had a lot to tell. I can see her now, opening her mouth, laughing in a boyish like way, relating the little incidents of happenings during the day. It wasn’t long until her brother younger than she came tagging along too and ran on ahead. Said he didn’t want to listen to girl talk. About that time the folks came driving down the road to pick me up. We were then to Ethel’s home so I got in the buggy.
Mama was awfully glad to get papa’s letter which I handed to her as I walked into the house. Then mama looked around and said, “our clock must be slow. I thought I sent them in time to pick you up at the depot.” “Well,” I said, “the roads weren’t too wet and I made it alright.” As I gave Wilhelmina her two letters she said, “why I just answered two.” I then said, “you have two more to answer.” Then she asked, “what’s in your hand? I said, “nothing to worry about. I answer mine as I get around to it,” and went on up stairs to change my school clothes for a house dress and apron. My brother-in-law said, “you look nicer in that outfit.” I said, “thanks, I think so too,” and went knot the kitchen to assist mama in preparing the evening meal. I always liked doing things like that, especially after being in school all day.
Later that evening when mama got around to reading papa’s letter it said he was in Florida now. The work there was progressing nicely and that he would be home for Christmas. And it was a beautiful country. Everything was green and growing with flowers in bloom. Said he would bring some choice rose bushes if he had time before leaving. But instead, when he came at Christmas time, he brought a large bouquet of red roses which mama put in a vase and still kept after Christmas was over and papa had gone back to his work. He said in leaving he had one more state in which to install the pump stations and that was Georgia. Then he would be home with the family for awhile.

pages 60,61,& 62

Soon home and mama had a nice dinner waiting for us. My brother-in-law to be, Pruden, put his arm around my mother and drew her up close saying, “We’ve got it.” Then he pulled the paper out and showed it to her. “Well, that’s nice.” She said. “I am happy for you both and I trust you will always be as happy as you are right now.” Then picking up the corner of her big apron brushed a tear from her eye. About that time my sister Wilhelmina came in. “Well”, she said, “you’ll soon be and old married couple.” “That’s what we are aiming for,” said Pruden. With that we all sat down to the table, looking around. Two were missing. Here they came arm in arm down the stairs, my brother Harry and wife Ida. Ida, with a faint blush on her cheeks, looked so sweet in her smock, that was hiding what would soon be the first grandchild. She was making an effort to smile but the evidence showed a trace of a tear for she cried easily, sometimes because she was just happy. She loved to read the Bible and have prayer with the family. My mother was a lover of reading the Bible also. Many is the time I have seen her reading by an old coal oil lamp. Mother used to say to we children, “remember prayer is the bridge that will always carry you safely over.
Pruden tried teasing mother a bit. Finally she smiled when he said, “maybe we are the ones,” putting his arm on Sallie’s shoulder, “that should be sad.”
The next few days passed rapidly and the time arrived. A doctor and nurse were summoned. That afternoon, about five o’clock on my father and mother’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, a little girl arrived to my brother and wife. They gave her the name of Mary Maxine. She grew and thrived but cried a lot. The nurse said she had the colic caused from gas on the stomach.
Different ones called to congratulate Harry and Ida and tell them what a fine baby they had. Some also brought gifts for the baby.
The next morning Pruden received a letter from his friend, Ossie, whom he had asked to be best man at their wedding. Wilhelmina was to be the maid of honor. Ossie came a few days ahead of time and he was smitten with Wilhelmina right off. We could all see that from the start. A nice looking, dark, curly haired fellow, well raised and well educated. Of course, she didn’t take too much to him because she was still in love and writing to Sidney.
The days went by and preparations for the wedding were at hand. The home had to be decorated with flowers the day before. The invitations were already on their way. Mama hired help for the extra cooking that had to be done. The ninth of September, 1908 dawned as any other day, only the household was astir a bit earlier that morning. The woman mama had hired drove in the yard as mama came down the back steps from the bedroom above. Mama was glad to see her as the house was full of company and she needed help on the breakfast.
My brother’s wife hadn’t been allowed to go up and down stairs yet so the nurse took her breakfast up, as usual, on a tray. When the wedding was about ready to be performed, Ida was dressed in a very nice dress and Harry and the nurse assisted her down the winding stairs and into the double parlors from the large reception hall. She was given a good seat. The nurse said the baby must witness this also so she went back up the stairs and slipped a pretty dress on her and brought her down as the bridal party was ready to walk in under the arch between the double parlors.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon. The wedding was to be a quiet home wedding but neighbors and friends had been invited anyway. Just as they were ready a carriage load drove up that had come a little late on the trolley from Norfolk.
Sallie was beautiful in her white satin ruffled dress and her flowered veil head dress and white shoes. Wilhelmina looked just about as beautiful as the bride, in her dress of the same material and white shoes.
The bridal couple had their suitcases all packed. After the wedding and reception were over and the bride changed to a light blue jacket suit, hat and black shoes, my brother, Harry, took them to the station where they took the four o’clock trolley for Norfolk. From there they went to North Carolina for an extended honeymoon, visiting all of his relatives and friends.
Ossie stayed for a couple more days before leaving. I believe if Wilhelmina would have agreed they would have been engaged before he went back. The letters that followed, one almost everyday, kept her busy answering for letters came from both Sidney and Ossie.
The day after the wedding, September tenth, 1908, I was sixteen. I wasn’t telling anyone but some how it leaked out. I heard so often that day, “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed!” After I had heard it so many times I finally got brave enough to say, “how do you know?”
That night up in my room I wrote Frank telling him all about the wedding and that I would be going back to school again tomorrow. I wrote. . . we seem to have the same old crowd on the trolley each morning. They start loading at the Virginia Beach station and four stations before they get to my station. Sometimes it was so crowded I could hardly get a seat. There’s one new face that rides our school trolley, a young lawyer that graduated last year. My folks and his folks have visited. The only differe3nce is they attend the Methodist church and we the Baptist. One morning he gave me his seat and then after that he’d save me a seat which made it nice. He’s nice looking and a good talker and we enjoy each other’s company. But, don’t worry, I haven’t lost my heart to anyone yet and don’t intend to for a while. . . .After several sheets I was getting sleepy and thought it best that I go to bed.
The day before and the next day found our home empty of company for which we were glad for a while. All the rooms seemed so quiet. Mother had the cleaning woman to come and give the house a good cleaning. I was at school while that was done for I never cared too much about the house anyway and less when it was torn up. I liked best the out-of-doors, winter and summer.
When father returned from work that evening I heard him telling mother that the oil company had given him a new job, that of putting in pump stations throughout several of the Southern states. He’d be leaving in a couple of weeks, all of which was quite a surprise for mother. “That means, “She said, “I’ll have to be getting your clothes ready for travel.”
A few days later Maggie and I got into it somewhat because I went to Lynnhaven each morning to take the trolley instead of walking through our field to get on with her a the Tylor Station. She said it was all because Eddy saved me a seat. Well, I said he’d still have the seat saved for me even if I did get on at your station. We still sat together anyway when we could. I didn’t quarrel or get provoked because the way our folks had raised us we were always supposed to be nice to the other person whether they were with us or not.
That was one thing our parents stressed – good manners at all times, no matter who we were with. My parents were always telling us above all things we must grow up to be good American citizens and never be snobbish with anyone. They gave us nice clothes and paid tuition to send us to town schools when we could have gone to the country school. They furnished our home nice with carpet, new piano and furniture, gave us music lessons from extra good teachers. And never objected when our friends came to spend a week or a few days. They had a new carriage and buggy, harness, and good horses to pull or hitch to them so that when we went places we acted and looked like the kind of a home we came from or just well dressed, good American citizens as our folks taught us to be. The thing my father was the proudest of was his naturalization papers, showing as a young man of twenty-five, he was a true and loyal citizen of the United States.
In the weeks that passed we received several cards from the newly-weds and mama had gotten her first letter from papa. He said he had found a place to stay and was on the job. He said the work was going well and told where to write. I did not pay too much attention to the letter as I was busy with my school work.
That fall was a rather rainy one. My overshoes and umbrella came in handy most every morning. We had had such a dry summer, the fall was making up for it. I remember one night the young people of the church were suppose to meet at our house for their once a week get-together at the different homes. Mother had fixed for them then and began to wonder if they would come because of the pouring rain. But, nothing deterred them. Then mother began to wonder if her carpets would be ruined. Because of the rain outside everyone seemed to have a better time than usual. We all played games and played the piano and sang until we were all ready to sit and be quiet for once. About eleven thirty p.m. mother began serving the treats. Believe me it wasn’t long vanishing and mother was glad she had fixed a lot. For it was a cool, rainy night and there was a chill in the rainy mist that came down. Along about midnight, as the young people left for home, it let up. And we had quite a little frost that next morning. I was up early and off to the station before any of the others were awake. It was a cool walk, with my books under my arm. I hurried along for I was a wee bit late and the trolley was due at the station at seven forty a. m. That put me into Norfolk at about twenty to nine. You see, it took time stopping at the stations along the way.