Abilene, KansasDecember 16, 1954

Dear Paul:

The compliment you paid me for having a good memory has proven a stimulus for thewriting this manuscript. I have been successful in an effort at gathering glean-ings from some of our relatives on things of interest that they remember about yourmother. These contributions are the result of correspondence with the survivingmembers of the Whisler family, and aim at keeping your mother foremost in the pic-ture; however, as they have to do with family life and activities there is thepossibility that at times a big brother or sister may seem to eclipse the sphereof the younger sister.

We are indebted to the correspondence of your Uncle Albert with an Illinois cousin,C. H. Brubaker for the chronological record of our Brubaker ancestry. And espec-ially since this has to do with the pedigree of both your father and your mother,it should have a degree of their posterity --

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I. John or Hans Brubaker was born in Switzerland in 1685. He came to America

t . ~. ,June 16, 1710, took out papers of naturalization in 1717. He had been married,I I:, and was married a second time in America to Anna. *

II. ?enry Brubaker, son of Hans and Anna, was born in Iancaster County, pa., and helived. in Lancaster County until 1756. He had a brother Jacob, a bishop in theMennonite Church. (Henry Brupake'r's wife was named Elizabeth).

III. Benjamin Brubaker, Jr., son- of !3enjJ3JJlin~., was born Jan. 13, 1766, in Hemp-field Township, Lancaster Co~, Pa. Narried about 1792, and came to Ashland,Ohio, 1823 or 1824. 'f-he monument mrking his grave and that of his wife whowere the. great grandparents of the Whisler children, stands foremost in theChestnut Grove Cemetary. They were the parents of nine children, at least fiveof whommigrated with their parents from Pa. to Ohio, which was then the Far\-lest, unexplored timber land. A paragraph of the history of the Brethren inChrist Church will serve to bring this story sufficiently up-to-date for thepresent generation to grasp it.

"One of the Brubakers coming from Pa. to AShland, Ohio, bought five farmsfrom the government, containing one hundred and sixty acres each, at $500per farm. A farm for each of his five children. Three of these farms arest;ill in possession of descendants. Two farms have large, typical Pennsyl-vania Dutch brick houses on them. These early settlers, besides clearingthe land of heavy forests, made and burned their own brick for their dwellings....

These farms were what is now the Dale Dohner farm; the James Rafield and the quartersection joining on the west; the John lUnger farm and the quarter join'g. to thesouth. So the children of the sixth generation pJay happily on the premises ofwhat 'olas originally the purchase of an ancestor from the U. S. Government, acentury and a quarter ago.

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The birth record of the nine children of Benjamin Brubaker, Jr. -all bom inLancaster Co., Pa., is as follows:

1. Elizabeth was born June 20, 1793;2. Henry, September 11, 1795;3. Hagdalena, March 24, 1798;4. Susanna, November 2, 1800;5. Benjamin, Nov. 17, 1801-6. Peter (our grandfather) June7. Susan, November 16, 1806;.8. John, June 18, 1810;9. Abraham, August 28, 1812.

Peter married Catherine Albert, daughter of George and Elizabeth Albert. Theywere the parents of twelve children, five of whomdied in their infancy. Benjamindied in his boyhood years; Elizabeth died single in her youth. The names of allof these are inscribed on the marble family monument and the slab tombstClles inthe old Brubaker Cemetary on the Rafield farm.

The names of the fi ve surviving members of the Peter Brubaker family, exceptingour mother, were the familiar names of the aunts and uncles of the Whisler children--they and the members of their families, our cousins were as follows:

Uncle George Brubaker married Sarah Cotner, and they had a family of twelve .chil-dren - six sons and six daughters- Peter, Wesley, Jacob, Ettie, Normie, Sadie,George, Harley, Albert, Ida, Emmaand Katie. Our families were always on friendlyterms. During the years of childhood, the Brubaker cousins frequently visitedUncle Sam's, and the Whisler children always enjoyed their week-end visits at UncleGeorges. Incidentally, I was Uncle George's namesake and in my early childhood,Uncle George gave me special recognition. One time he bought me a little red felthat of which I was very proud. When on Sunday we would drive through the swampylowlands going to church at Pleasant Grove and would hear the frogs croaking, theolder folks ",ould say, "Listen, George, the frogs are seeing your hat; hear themsaying, 'Chroge Hoot, George, hoot, Hoot!! They want your hat."

Our friendship with the Brubaker cousins was an all-time friendship. The youngerBrubaker sisters, Ida, Emma.and Katie occasionally visited their fond cousin Harrietduring the early years of her marriage. (There is more to say).

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Uncle AmosBrubaker married Laura Arndt. He was a few years younger than our mother,and aunt Laura was married at sixteen, several years younger than Uncle Amos, sotheir family was young, comparing favorably in age with the younger set of childrenin our family. After Uncle Amosmarried, for several years, he and father farmedin partnership. But this for some reason did not prove entirely satisfactory. So JUncle Amos said, "I'll buy me a farm up on the ridge where we can raise somethingmore than straw." They lived for years on the farm later mmed by Daniel Brubaker,a mile east of the Chestnut Grove Churoh. Uncle Amoswas a very hard working man,and Aunt laura, the kind of wife that could make a splendid contribution to herhusband Is prosperity, by good housekeeping. They raised four sons - Jake, Albert,Curtus and Charley; and two daughters, Emma.and lfabel; three or four children diedin infancy. We, the younger Whisler children, had good times at Uncle AmosBrubaker's,and always remember Aunt Laura because she was a good entertainer and could adaptherself to being a child with children. Unole Amos' habitual word was one frequent-ly used in professional oiroles today. - ''By Golly." His lead horse's namewasBarney. (More to say)

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Aunt Barbara, mother's oldest sister, was first married to George Burns. Theywere the parents of three sons, Christ, Wesley and George, and one daughter, Katie.After Uncle George's death, Aunt Barbara married Henry Rutt. We, the younger setof the Whisler family, missed association with the Burns cousins, however, we havecherished memories of the greetings of Aunt Barbara whenever she would ~eet heryounger sister Susan with her brood of little children. She would land ~e youngestwith her caresses and kisses, saying, "Seser GnuttleJ" (Sugar lump, sugar lump!)

Aunt Catherine, (Kate) mother's older sister, married Daniel Hiller - they had alarge family, too! Jacob, Katie, Peter, Daniel, Elizabeth, Edward and a youngersister who died young..We always thought of Aunt Kate Hiller as the big talker. It seemed her well neverrun dry. Because they lived closer to us than any other uncle, and because theyattended our church quite regularly, we would see them frequently. Aunt Kate'sstyle of dress was much the same as our mother's, and Uncle Dan wore a full beardlike Pa. A good reaE'on for my remembering Aunt Kate for her talkativeness - isthat occaeionally when I presumed to take too much liberty in a family circle con-versation, mother or some member of the family would give a rebuff, "Aunt Kate,bobble moule!I" Uncle Dan and Aunt Kate were devout members of the Church of theBrethren, and in early years worshipped at the Oak Grove Church, located in a wood-land near Stamtow - until the congregation there broke up, whentheir membershipwith that of their family automatically transferred to Ashland. Their youngestchild, Ed, as we knew him, and Lizzie were very popular young people. A very deepshadow of gloom fell on the entire community when Lizzie died at what seemed a pre-mature passing.

As yet, we have less authentic data on our ancestry on father's side. However,according to verbal tradition, the Whisler children are descendents of Dutch andFrench ancestry. His son, David Sr., our grandfather, served as Bishop in theAshland and Richland Co. district of the Brethren in Christ Church. He died inl8?7, and was succeeded as Bishop, by B. F. Hoover, with '-Themour father was acontemporary minister and lifetime intimate friend.

David Whisler Sr. married Martha Gilbert. They were the parents of two sons,Samuel and Daniel, and three daughters, Margaret, Mary and Katherine. GrandmotherWhisler died at the age of 29, in 1846, when her twin children, Samuel and Katherinewere two years old.

Grandfather was united in marriage a second 'time to a widm-T,Katie Welty, who hadtwo children Abraham and Susan. There were three children by the second marriage:Jennie (Jane), John and Rebecca. So, in the Grandfather Whisler family the parentscould say: ''Your children, my children and our children. U Grandmother, Katie Whis-ler was the only grandmother we knew intimately, and as children, we frequentlyvisited her and she with the maiden daughter Aunt Rebecca,frequently visited ourhome. A top-buggy draw by a well-kept blind little horse, was their mode of travel.Grandmother was heavy set, medium height, but had, through years of hard work, ac-quired a very stooped posture. She was very generous and a good stepmother. Onthe occasions of her visits she would, when she had it, bring something of herraising from the ga-den, or perhaps, a sample of fruit tied up in a red handkerchief,in the fall of the year, quinces. Aunt Rebecca was taller than girls aspire to be,very refined in her tastes. She vlould always have things of interest wherewith toentertain her nieces. A few domestic pets, house plants, and needle work, makinglace and embroidery were her hobby. 1:Jhatever inherent taste the girls, Harriet andSusie had for nice things, was cultivated by the refinement and taste for the nicethings of their spinster Aunt Rebecca.

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-4-Aunt Rebecca was scrupulously neat, but plain in dress. She preferred that thetippet of her uniform be a seamless garment.

Aunt Jane married Henry Xanders. They had one son Melvin. Aunt Jane was not marriedyoung and while single, did practical nursing. She always gave the children whosemothers she had nursed in their infance, special notice, and Harriet and her olderbrother had the distinction of this special notice.

Uncle Jim Whisler married EmmaBaker. They \vere parents of two sons: Oren and Arthur.They left Ohio and went to Abilene, Kansas, where Uncle John taught school. In lat-er years, they lived in Kansas City, where Uncle was a Street car conductor. We, aschildren, were always interested in hearing the letters read which mother receivedfrom Aunt &m1a. Although we younger children never saw Uncle John but once, when hecame back to visit the home folks, we remembered him as outstandingly the tall uncle.His height was six feet, two inches.

Uncle Daniel Whisler was killed in the memorable battle of South Mountain on Sept. 14,1862; between the Union and Confederate Armies. He was one of over twenty thousandwho were killed or wounded that tragic day. A beautiful, enlarged picture of UncleDan always hung on the wall of our back parlor, and to us ohildren this very finelooking young man who made the supreme sacrifice for our oountry, was the hero ofour r~spect and admiration. A slab marker, among thousands of others in theAntietum National Cemetary, marks his resting place.

Aunt lfargaret - always known to us as Aunt }.Bg- married George Meckley. She wasthe oldest in the family and never left the original Stark County community. AuntMag was a milliner and seamstress by trade, which accounts for the fact that she wasthe fashionable, well-dressed aunt who, with the daughter Ella'; occasionally visitedour home. Ella married Glancy vlorstler and to the Whisler youngsters, he was anever'to be forf?lotten character. He was the first person of our acquaintance to ownand ride a bicycle. We kiddies looked on wide-eyed, almost with breathless awe, ascousin Glancy would mount this peculiar looking, big and little two-wheeled vehicle,and how he ever did manage to keep his poise, keep going and raise a cloud of dustas he did, was our delight and amazement.

The popularity of the nephew who owned and rode a bicycle, won for him the distinct-ion of a namesake in Uncle Sam's family. The name Glancy was chosen for the babyof the family at that time.

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Aunt 1,hg was married a second time to William Etchburger. They always lived inLouisville. Aunt Mag was an active member in the United Brebhren Church. She had a"polly parrot" who was one of the marvelous things of our childhood, and the leadingentertainer of those of us who were privileged to visit in the distinguished aunt'shome. J:Vary Whisler married Jacob Burns, thus giving us two Burns brothers as uncles. Theirchildren's names were: William, Daniel, Amanda, Edward and Byron. Uncle Jake Burnsalways lived on the other side of the Black-fork, and in later years on thefarm, in a stnne house on the "big hill".

The most outstanding remembrancewe children have of Aunt Mary is of her hospi tali ty,when in the fall, after the frost ripened the chestnuts, she would invite us to comeover for a day of chestnut hunting. We would, on occasion of arrival, first go to thehouse for instructions from Aunt l'Jary. One time, as a little lead to a successfulhunt, she told of her observation of a neighbor's unsuccessful procedure. She said,

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-5-"It is almost amusing to watoh Mr. Campbell and his family hunt ohestnuts. (Mr. Camp-bell was an old sohool teaoher and close neighbor). They will start out in the morn-ing and spend a lot of time looking up at the chestnuts on the trees, and at the endof the day have few or no chestnuts. When I go, I stir around in the leaves underthe tree, and usually my efforts are rewarded with a nice lot of chestnuts." We wou.ldfollow Aunt's instructions and if our hunt was disappointing, she would likely re-plenish our findings out of her abundance. Aunt Hary was a very humble, likable per-son. A good neighbor, loved and respected by every one.

Katherine, whomwe knew intimately as father's twin sister, married Abraham Stuaffer.The children were: Alice, Emma, John and Edward.A son Henry died before our time. Aunt Kate, as we always called her, and our father'stwin mate, were the only persons whose birthday received special recognition. Wewould expect on the morning of the 17th of June, mother would assign us some specialohores, getting ready for Aunt Kate's visit. Mother and the girls would plan a gooddinner, and it would be a day of rea,J. enjoyment for all the family. As a matter offact, Aunt Kate never acquired much of this world's goods. Their home, in our earlychildhood, was a log oabin on the Van Dyke farm, about two miles direct south of us.Wewould very frequently walk to Aunt Kate's. The cousins, Alice and Emma,were verygood entertainers. After spending the day in visiting and happy play, the oousinswould volunteer to accompany us part way, going home. But we would not be likely togo empty-handed. Aunt Kate would generally think of something she would like to sendalong for mother. It might be a bar of fresh honemade soap, or a pail of chawchaws,pickle-lily, or some other relish, whatever it chanced to be, it was the best thatwas ever made, so Aunt Kate said. And so we go on our way, the happy girl cousinswith the little brothers and sisters at their heels. It was a long way to go throughthe winding Van Dyke farm lane, and on the following trail along the run through theBrindle Farm. In the woodland, along the creek, was a log of a fallen tree. Thisproved a very suitable place for rest, before the party broke up. Sitting on the log,of the tree, the older girls would sing some-ot their choice folk songs, Suwanee River,.,ltr Old Kentucky Home, or it might he the National Anthem. The music would be inter-spread with the telling of riddles, an example: "What goes around the house with twolegs and leaves only one track?" By this time, the western sun reminds us that theday is far spent, and our mothers will be anxiously expecting us home, and so reluc-tantly we say, "good-bye- we'll be looking for you soon".

Uncle Abe was an expert tinkerer by trade. Periodically, he would make the round ofhis wide aoquaintance, in his one horse wagon, equipped with tinkering tools, andmend all the cooking utensils, and whatever in the household equipment needed mending.He was a lover of hunting, trading and fishing, and a handy man who served his dayand generation well.

In the large family Bible, whose resting place was the center table in the back par-lor of our home, there was a page crowded with the birth records of the ten childrenof Samuel and Susan Whisler. It was written in mother's neat handwriting. Harriet'srecord is the seventh. l'Iother at the time spoke English rather reluctantly, and shespoke the German dialeot \olhich she taught us, fluently. She read both the English andGerman NewTestament well. It seems that mother must have recorded the infant'sbirths before she had seen the chosen. name in print, henoe the spelling of the namesreflects her accent.

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"Harried Esabelle Whisler, daughter of Samuel and Susan Whisler, born August 29, 1882.Harriet's birth record is preceded by that ofl ~

.George Edward, born July 19, 1880.It is followed by that of three younger brothers:Tracy Gilbert, born September 15, 1884;

~lancy , born May :30, 1887;

Charles Clayton, born Sept. 5, 1890.

Then going up from this younger set are the records of those we think of as theolder set of the brood:Susanna born October 8, 1877;Samuel Albert, born November 29, 1874;David Brubaker born January 14, 1873;Malvin J. born April 9, 1871; and at the head of the list is the record of thefirst born: Catherine vlhisler, daughter of Samuel and Susan Whisler, bornNovember 12, 1869.

And so, wh£ther for better or worse, Harriet had all the experiences involved in agirl's life, through having older brothers and sisters, and three baby brothers.Tutored by older sisters, she had the training for efficiency in the art of nursingand baby sitting. Little Harriet spent many an hour, and often wearied, rocking theold family cradle. So the motherly instincts, so graciously exemplified in laterlife, found expression in the kisses placed on the ruddy faces of infant brothers,and in caressing their wee, chubby hands.

We are indebted to Harrietts older sister Katherine for the story of her birth, asshe remembers it, and \-1egi ve it as she has gi ven it to us -

"My sister, Harriet was very young when I was married and had established my ownhome. But I am happy to relate that I very distinctly recall the day when I wasstill young and living at home, when the blessed event of Harriet's birth took place.I remember how very sorry I felt for our poor little mother, who once again wasfaced \.nth the ordeal of bringing a new life into the world; as I was grown up, andfully understood the cause and effect of the event, it seemed very terrible to me,and my thoughts and sympathies were all with mother. Aunt Jane Whisler was mother'snurse.

"I remember when Dr. Sattler arrived kit and bootIe, and how we all stood aroundwondering what the outcome would be. After quite a while, the news came that we hada baby sister. I still remember the relieved and happy look on mother's face, andfather also looked happy as he stood around to take a look at the new baby, whoproved to be very fair with blue eyes and blond tresses. After a few days ofdeliberation, she was given the name of Harriet Isabelle Whisler, which name shekept until she became Harriet Isabel Kohler, when she became the bride of EmersonDanielKobler."

Sister Katherine goes on with the story of her wedding, which was a memorable eventin Harrietts life, as she had now reacheJ the age of six.

The WeddingA quiet wedding took place at the farm home of Nr. and Mrs. Samuel Whisler, when

their eldest daughter, l1iss Katherine, became the bride of Charles Glessner VanTilburg,youngest son of Vincent and Catherine Mercer Van Tilburg. _

The time of the ceremony was 11 a.m. Thursday, December 19, 1888. At last theday was at hand. The groom came early in "topper and tails". The minister wasready. As there were no attendants, the bride came to the center of the living roomalone. The minister and groom were waiting with the parents, the younger members ofthe family and a few guests.

The Rev. Barron offered a prayer and then read the marriage ritual, which is usedin the Methodist Church.

The vows were then taken with the joining of hands and the final pronouncement.The bride took her vows in a frock of bronze satin, trimmed in small buttons,

and gold edged lace at neck and wrists. Skirt was ankle length and full. Groomwore a black serge suit "Prince Albert" style.

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The reception followed immediately. The happy couple were showered with manygood wishes for a long and happy life. Someone requested the Reveren~ Barron tosing a song, to which he graciously responded in his lovely baritone voice, bysinging the beautiful song entitled, 'The Lily of the Valley".

The mother of the bride served a swnptious wedding feast. The father presentedthe newly-weds with a beautiful faJnily Bible.

Guests, (outside the immediate family) were Aunt Rebecca Whisler, lfrs. HannahHiller, and 1-fr. and Mrs. Frank Hearshey. And so came the end of this joyous day.

The going-away outfit worn by the bride, was a dress of blue cloth made princessstyle, trimmed with buttons to match, and a short jacket of brown velvet. Coatwas brown, Dolmon style, hat fashioned of brown satin trimmed with ribbon and abird with changeable colors of brown, blue and gold. She wore black high buttonedshoes.

On the following Sunday, the groom took the bride to his home where she met herfuture father and mother-in-law, and other members of his family. After welcomingthe bride with congratulations and best wishes, another festive dinner was givenin honor of the newly-weds. A new home was in the making and by the following June,was completed, where the ~8ppy: couple started a home of their own. And for 45 yearsthey shared both joy and sorrow, adversity, sickness and separation, when in theyear 19:32, the groom passed away at the age of 67 years.

A most realistic episode is the narrative as told by Aunt Katherine of her assoc-iations with Harriet's family in later years -"At the time of my marriage, Harriet was a schoolgirl of age seven (?). My husbandand I were now living in our nevI home on the Van Tilburg farm, two miles west ofOlivesburg. When I would go home on visits, which was frequently, the youngerbrothers and sisters uould be at school, and I would return without seeing them.But as time went on, Harriet and the younger members of the family married and hadgone to make homes of their own. At a later date, while we were living in Hays-ville, I had the pleasure of being at home during a General Conference meeting heldin the barn of Frank Hershey, on the Shively farm, just beyond the Methodist Churchat Pavonia. Shortly after the service had started, someone came to see me and toldme that I was needed at Emerson Kohler's. Hastily, I was taken to the Kohler homewhere in two hours M3.rywas born. (This was Harriet's second daughter, and thethird child). I remained with the family three weeks, took care of the new baby,it's mother and the family.

As time went on, I was called each time a new arrival was expected, and went eachtime, always happy to lend a helping hand. Harriet was always very kind and coop-erative in all the times I took over her household duties.

So endeth this true episode, and all is well." j

It is only fair to Sister Kate (as we generally oalled her) to say her SisterHarriet had a very good reason for wanting her older sister at her side at thesetrying crisis times. Kate was very well versed in the art of practical nursing.Her extensive reading of medical books during the years of her husband Istraining,and her practical experience as a doctor's wife over a period of 40 years, coupledwith the experiences involved in being the mother of a son and three daughters,qualified her fully for efficient maternal service. She had, through all thoseyears of Uncle Charlie's, far-reaching, untiring service as the leading familyphysician in the Hayesville vicinity, served as bookkeeper, and practical helper,wherever assistance was needed.

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As the Van Tilburg ohildren were the older grandohildren, they were rightly entitledto a prominent place as twigs on the Whisler family tree. There were novel exper-ienoes shared by all the family in the fact that Vernon Van Tilburg was only fivemonths younger than his Uncle Charley, and the experienoes we older children sharedin watching these little fellows at play were sometimes dramatioally amusing.

Before Harriet was quite two years old, our grandmother Brubaker, who for the pastfew years had been quite a care, beoause she had gone blind, died in the home,July _, 1884. The older set of brothers and sisters have many cherished memoriesof grandmother Brubaker, whereas we younger ones have only slight remembrance ofher; however, ciroumstancely, the influence of her interests in life contributedto making the environment of our ohildhood a more happy one.

Sister Katherine was grandmother1s namesake, and a few of the things that stand outvividly in her remembI'8.4'1oeof grandmother are worthy of mention:

"I remember Grandmother Brubaker quite clearly. I recall how she suffered fromsome kind of kidney disease, which threw her into terrible convulsions before shedied. She had great respect for father, and when things went wrong, she wouldtalk with him and feel muoh better over it. When she used bad language, he wouldabraid her for it and set her right. The day she went blind, she called for him,and he was the first to know. The funeral was held in the home, it was a Germanservice with her pastor, Peter Imhoff, and a young Mennonite minister, officiating."

I, too, have a lingering memory of grandmother1s funeral. In my mind, is the pio-ture of the funeral oortege following the trail leading from the house, out pastthe barn, and on through the farm to the little family burying ground. One Sundaymorning, soon after grandmother's passing, the family went somewhere in the springwagon, going by the trail whioh led past the oemetary and on through the woods.Mother holding baby Harriet with we younger children around her sat on the backseat. As we passed the oemetary, father and mother spoke of grandmother's life,and of her recent passing. Mother broke dow and cried, which caused us all tosympathize and feel sad, little as we could comprehend what it was all about.

Grandmother had her own horse and buggy (top), during the years of her widowhood,and after her death, father had the old-fashioned, high-geared vehicle worked overand modernized, so that it served the family as a light pleasure oonveyance formany years. But the most impressive memorial grandmother left to her posterityfor generations to come, were the flower beds and shrubbery of her planting. Inthe perennial varieties, were the white and red peonies, flux, butteroups, pansies,jonquils, bleeding hearts, and Ademand Eve. In the shrubbery line were variedcolors of roses, snow-ball, lilaos, and the never-to-be-forgotten shrub bush. Someof these plants have survived for nearly a cBIltUry, testifying to the culturaltastes of our ancestry, and to their philosophy of life, that they believed,"That man does not live by bread alone.1I J

The flowers from grandmother's garden witha great variety of wild-flowers, thesisters pioked going through the woods to school made beautiful bouquets to presentto their teachers. About these we would get leotures, pointing out to us how wonder-ful the flowers are in design, in oolor and in fragranoe, which none other in Godcould create. Only for the nature study classes taught by our highly esteemedteacher, C. Anna Winter, Harriet and her schoolmates would have known much lessabout the names of flowers and about their growing habits. The lectures we heardgave suggestions for things to be written in our note books. And Harriet Whisler'snote book was a neatly kept one, written in large easy-to-read letters, and shealways got very high grades.

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Only for these lessons, by a teacher whose qualifications would have fitted her

to be a University professor, we, as children, would not have known that the leaves

on the trees are their lungs through which they breathe the f~h air, as essential

to their health as deep fresh..a.irbreathing is to the health of growing boys and

girls. And the sap that flows through their trunks and branches, is their life

blood , without which they could not live, grow and produce fruit. And the bark

of the trees is their skin, whioh if we break it hurts them, and they bleed. Andof course, with this teaohing there was the moral significance, ''Needlessly, we

should never kill, destroy or in any way injure a tree, because they are the wonders

and beauties of God's oreation. They reveal to us much about God, furthermore be-

cause it takes God many years to grow a tree, it is wicked for anyone thoughtlesslyto injure or to kill them.

. Never to be forgotten was the day when, because of some misdemeanor on the playgr01.md,it became necessary for Miss C. Anna to turn The Albert's schoolroom into a court

chamber. After all the information had been gathered by authorative witnesses, the

pupils were divided into two groups as the shepherd divideth the sheep from the

goats, the offenders sitting to the left side of the middle aisle, while the inno-

cents sat oomplacent1y to the judges right. Harriet and I were seat-mates, our

desk being on the right side, but circumstances necessitated that I move on theopposite side. This, to the mind of the judge, a matter that would sunder the re-

lationship between brother and sister was terrible. After the lecture, in which allminds were clarified, finally came to an end, oonfessions and apoligies were made,and forgiveness asked for, aJ.l were asked to kneel in prayer, while Miss C. .Anna

fervently implored diviLLe favor.

By virtue of Harriet's age, she started her school work two grades lower than me,

but by virtue of her brightness and the absence of boyish mischief, she soon caught

up with brother, and at spelling bees frequently won her way to the head of theclass. The gracefulness of her school behaviour is most beautifully reflected in

a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier;

IN SCHOOL ~Still sits the school house by the road, For near her stood a little boyA ragged beggar sleeping; Her childish favor singled;Around it still the shuemacks grow His cap pulled down upon a faceAnd black berry vines are creeping. Where pride and shame were mingled.

Within the masters desk is seen, He watched the tangled golden tressesDeep scars by raps official; When all the school were leaving,The warping floor, the battered seats, Of one who still her steps delayed,The jack-knives carved initials. Her blue (brown) eyes were full of grievin[

The charcoal fresco on the wall; Pushing with restless foot the snowIt's deep worn still betraying To right and left he lingered --The feet that, creeping slow to sohool As restlessly her tiny handsWent storming out to playing. The blue checkered apron fingered.

Long years ago, a winter sun He saw her lift ~er eyesJ h~ feltShone over it at setting The soft hands lJ.ghtcaressJ.ng,.Lit up its western window panes, And.heard the tremble.of her vOJ.ceAnd low eaves its icy fretting. As J.fa fault confessJ.ng.

(cont'd)

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-10-("SCHOOL DAYSI1-poem, continued)

"Ilm sorry that I spelt the word;

I hate to go above you,Because, :tho blue eyes lower fe11,-Because you see, I love you'"Still memory to a gray haired manThat S\oleet child face is showingDear gir11 the ~rasses on her graveHave JIflny (forty) years been growing.

He lives to learn, in lifels hardschool,

Howfew who pass above himLament their triumph and his lossLike her, - because they love him.

Whereas, Harriet 1s childhood experiences by the fact that her place in the familywas between an older and yotmger brother, Georgie as a child, had problems too,because his place in the family was between a sister nearly three years older, andthe yOtmger by less than two years.

It was the difference in dispositions that often worked a hardship on Georgie, andsome times even a greater one on the sisters. For one thing, because their littlebrother connived to imply the same tactics to his own pleasure with little sister,as those used on the older one, to his ane.zement and disappointment, he soon dis-covered his tactics were not workable. For instance, if father came home from townand indulged us each with a stick of candy, or some peanuts, and brother managed togGtaway with his before Susie finished hers, by just a little Dutch whimpering,"Gep mere a bissel, gep mere a bisse1," good nature would soon be moved to dividewhat was left. But this game did not work so well with Harriet. She had foresightto keep herself in the backgrotmd at such crisis times. And she had independenceenough to practice what she a.1eeady believed to be right, the principles of "The Billof Rightsl1 that everybody, even a little sister, had rights that the older membersof the family should recognize and respect. This child-like characteristic was re-flected in her after-life, not only in a justifiable attitude of self-defense, butalso a keen sense of respect for the rights and privileges of her neighbors andfriends.

A little experience of an encounter, which little sister had with brother, whichwa.s easy to remember, though not very creditable to either of us. It occurred on aStmday summer evening, in the cellar where we had gone for the Sunday evening snack.It was the established practice at cur house, because Sunday dinners were later andbigger than on week-days, that whoever so desired, could go to the cellar and helpthemselves to bread and butter, to dill pickles, and ;ie, or whatever was found inthe cupboard. On the Sunday evening referred to, we two were alone in the cellar,with only ono tool to work with - a big butcher knife to slice bread and spread thebutter. Because brother tmduly monopolized the use of the butcher knife, littlesister connived to take the knife from him. By a stubborn and persistant effort to

Jhold on, brother got the worse of the bargain. To my knowledge, this encotmter,wherein there was bloodshed and tears, was the only occasion of our having seriousdisagreement.

The horror of the experience led to the scrapping of weapons and ammunitions, andhenceforth, we were able to get along happily and peaceabley with each other.(Tracy's story in the appendix is a sidelight here).

-ll-

While Susie and Harriet were still thought of as little girls, and the family wasgetting large, mother found it burdensome to keep the little girls hair as tidy asshe liked to see it, as they both had heavy hair and occasionally, through schoolcontacts, their heads would be annoyed by a feeling of live creatures. So motherby much persuasion got father's consent to have the girls' hair shingled. Theshade of the big sweet apple tree in the yard, on a summer day, provided the sui t-able barbershop, and the hired man, Will Steigerwald, was not too conscientous tobe the barber. Wewere so accustomed to seeing the "pig tails" that for a time oursisters looked quite IrAsculine and strange. Soon after the hair cutting, a cousinof mother's, J.frs. Henry Imhoff, visited in the home. On her first sight of the littlegirls, she exclaimed ''Why, Susanna, I am surprised at you shingling your girls -we wouldn't think of shingling our boys!"

As mother did not wish to cause offense, she did not persist in the practice ofshingling the girls hair very long. When the hair grew to the length where thecare of it became a pr01b1em, they wore round combs which could be stroked fromthe forehead back, parallel with the ears. When the girls got older and caredfor their hair themselves, they followed the fashion of setting up a little turfon the front of the head, in pompadore style. whereas the haii on the back ofthe head was arranged in what was called liThe Jug Handle" or "French Twist".

Their head gear was sunbonnets for week days, and "Herry tvidow" or sailor hatsfor Sundays. During the winter they wore fascinators, which were a knit shawl,patterned like the head scarfs so generally worn today. For the foot, the girlshad heavy high leather shoes, and we boys wore boots with heavy soles, usuallytoe capped with copper plates, I suppose so our kicking would be more effectual,and less wearing to the boot. Of course, the boot-jack was a household necessit:YijThe girls who swept the kitchen floor '-Iould always meet this hideous peculiar"black bug creaturell either under the kitchen sink or the cook stove.

The trip to 1Yhnsfield, just before school started, was one of our annual "redletter days". It was a "red letter day1l for Pa and Na lMs1er, too, because ofthe heavy drain on the pocketbook. Buying a winter outfit of clothing and schoolbooks and other supplies for the big growing family, as well as several sacks ofwheat fbr the grist ~, to be exchanged for flour. Should the miller make anyremarks suggesting the size of the grist, Father would reply, "I would rather anytime come to the mill than call the doctor". In meeting an old man on the streetin 1-1ansfield, he 6t.:1.dto us, "Did you ever see a bigger city than this?" Hisquestion was easily answered because to date, Ashland, Old Windsor, Mifflin andOlivesburg were all the cities '-Ie had seen. To our childish minds, Mansfield wasthe metropolis of the world. A city of sufficient size and industry to supply allour physical needs. As a rule, going about eight miles each way and doing a lotof business, besides the necessary chats with the people we met on the streets 'to/ham Jwe knew, made it a full day. This meant that father would take us into some res-taurant for a lunch. This, to country boys and girls, was a rare treat. A lunchconsisting of bakery bread and butter, '-lith either cheese or bologna. Going homethrough Old ~Tindsor, points of interest to attract our notice were * the Tom Lether-man Tavern; The Johnny Baker's country store, Philip Hauserman's shoe shop; ourfamily physician's office and residence, and we would watch to get a glimpse ofEphraim Hawk, because he had a reputation for story telling.

* The Free ~~thodist Church.

-12-

Our most likely stopping place in Old Windsor would be at the Hous61'1t8nShoe Shop

to pick up boots and shoes left for repairs. We readily imagine the older members

of the family exchanging expressions of gratitude t.hat the time is past now when,

once a year, Father would bring them here to have their feet measured for ne,.,boots

and shoes. ''Wesure are glad the old way of having hand-made shoes to wear has been

out-mooed in favor of these store ones. They are so much finer and comfortable on

the feet, and nicer too than those coarse, heavy leather clodhoppers."

Many things were different in those days than they are now. We had no electrical

gadgets in our hcmes; no telephones, radio or TV sets, not even rural delivery. Thetrip to Ashland once a week was quite urgent that we might get the mail and hear

something about v.i:et was going on in the world beyond the narrow horizon of the Black-fork valley. The Salvation Army was in its infancy then, but already its influencehad spread from London, England, to many American towns and cities. Ashland was

favored in having a small corps of Salvationist soldiers and they readily attracted

our attention - the lassies in their blue bonnets, and the soldiers \lit th theirmilitan- uniforms. They were real soldiers, too - aggressive enough to find theirway out to our country home. However, the most unforgettable person to grace the

streets of Ashland was Charley Hall, the peanut man. We remember him with the great-est respect, when vTe speak of the uniqueness of his personality, dress and manner.

He was so skinny that he seemed much taller than he was, and for no fault of his own,

his clothing were loosely fitting, crowned with a corresponding flat derby or cap.

That familiar sales cry, "Peanuts, fresh peanuts, any peanuts today!" was familiarmusic falling on our ears. The market basket he carried needed replenishing manytimes on a day during Fair Heek, or a week-end trading day. He served our generationacceptably and as old age pensions, welfare agencies, and Social Security were things

unheard of then, Charley made an honest livelihood for himself and his ,ddowed motherby an honest and successful business.

Wages for labor were very meager; an exceptionally good farm hand considered him-self doing well if he got ~,?25.00per month in harvest, and the prices we got for farmproducts were meager as compared with prices in more modern times, a :pitiful amount.It took 12 dozen of nice fresh eggs to make a dollar; butter, 15~ per lb; wheat maybe50~ and oats 20~ per bushel.But Pa Whisler was never too hard up to buy the groceries, and the staple food

supplies for the table; such as a nice hunk of fresh beef, a keg of salted herring,or a quart of fresh oysters,besides some luzuries, for instance, some tropical fruit,and most certainly he would not slightthe water melon in its season. Itls a cher-ished memory to hear Pa say "How good the Lord is to let all this variety of tastythings grow for His Children, and for giving them health and an appetite, and weshouldnot forget to thank Him for these things." As far as our information goes,none of the Lordls childrenwearingthe Whisler name sat back when it came to doingtheir part at the table, unless they were sick. Pa and Henry Pifer, who also had afair-sized family, one time bought a barrel of oyster crackers in partnership. Pa Jgot the barrel with his share. It stood at a convenient place, right inside thestairway door.

By good management, and hard work, Mother did, her part well to ease the financialburden of raising the family. She would darn stockings and mendour clothing untilsometimeswe blushed to appear in them. Incidentally, I for a time bore the stigmaof being nick-named "Sam-Patch". Mother was an expert gardener, too. The 20-lb.cabbages, bleached crisp celery, and sweet potatoes weighing as much as 4 lbs. wouldhave taken the blue ribbonsat the Ashland Fair any time, but of course,they nevergot to go there. Poultry raising, especially turkeys for the Thanksgiving marketvTasMotherls best bit for making money. Watching where the turkey hens were hidingtheir nests and bringing in the speckled eggs, then later helping mother with theprecarious task of feeding the baby birds, peppered, hard-boiled eggs, were some of

the ,.,holesome,educational engagements of we children.

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Mother taught us how, with a twisted horse-hair, we could take the gaps from a sickchick. By this skilled operation, many a young chicken's life was saved, but ofcourse we lost some cases in the operation. Isn't it a wonder that none of us turnedout to be vetinarians, surgeons or professional nurses? This professional instinctcropped out in the Van Tilburgs.

The years of 1887-88 were years of history making events. In the spring of 1888there was an epidemio of measles. Our oldest sister Katherine and the older brotherswere dangerously sick; we little folks had them in so light a form we hardly knewwe had them. But our oldest brother, Melvin, age 16, died. This was a great lossand deep sorrow, it being the first break in the family circle. A baby brother,Glancy oame to alleviate the gloom of the family only a few months after the death.But at nine months of age he succombed to an illness. He was a lovely baby, idolizedby every member of the family. Two deaths and one birth in the family in a littlemore than a year's time.

Whatever may have been the Providential purpose in these events, they determined themaking of a decision which, because of its implications, would have much to do withthe destiny of the family. Because of heavy indebtedness on the farm, and becausemany of Father's acquaintances from Pennsylvania were going west, Father had joineda home-seekers excursion to Kansas the previous Fall. He oame home with glowing re-ports of the opportunities the uncultivated spacious, mostly level prairie landoffered. And he brought of the spoils of the promising Canaan, a sample of perfectred apples, and a pair of jack-rabbit ears. We kiddies rallied around Pa on his re-tum and listened with rapt interest to the stories about the people living in sodshackS, and how you can stand at one place and look for miles in every direction.He told too, of his nice cousins whomhe had visited at Abilene, Kansas. Motherlistened, too, but more understandingly. She was not so fascinated ~ being ableto see so far; she was concerned more about what you could see. Her Willingnessto sell the dear old home of her nati vi ty, and leave kindred and tried and truefriends behind, was the crux of the familiesl decision. The Providences of thefollowing year dete1'IDined the decision as mother wished it to be, and undoubtedlyfor the best interest of the family. Otherwise, we would all have been destinedto become Jayhawkers and the far reaching effect of that goes beyond our compre-hension.

The dear old farm homestead, Mother's birthplace, the birthplace of her ten chil-dren, and the only place she had ever called home, had a fascinating history as toldto us by Mother. Howour ancestors came from Lancaster, Pa. in covered wagons, choos-ing their homesteads here in the fertile Blackfork Valley, and bought their land forless than $4.00 per acre. Howthey cleared the thickly timbered land, build logcabin dwellings, and stables.

By now, the physical environment of the old home, as it had developed to be, eventhough still primitive, was as truJ,1 a children1s Paradise, as was America, theIndians happy hunting ground before the white man came and drove him from it.

]The large, two-story eight room Penna. style house was built by Gro.ndfather Brubakerin 1844, replacing for his families use, the original log cabin which stood acrossthe lane to the east. This structure has served as a comfortable shelter from thestorms of life, for five succeeding generations. Alterations and changes of improve-ment have been made through the years - but this there was, and is; a commodiousattic, nicely floored "lith two windows at each end of the room. In our day it wasgenerally the store room. Here you could while 6.wayhours of time looli:ing at antiques,spinning wheels, big and little; remains of the grandfather clock; fire place cookingutensils; bedsteads, etc. A suitable place, well equipped for play on a rainy day.In Grandfather Brubaker's day, some of the attic space had been utilized as a tramplsdormitory. An experiBnce which grandfather had with a tramp was an interestingepisode to which his grandchildren listened with amusement- - -

-14-At bedtime, the weary traveler was escorted to his resting place for the night;

the tired feet ascended the first long stairway, then the second. vlhen they reached

the head of the second stairs, and the tramp got full view of the situation, com-placently he said to his host: UVon ich starup denaucht bin ich nicht von Himmel".

Interpreted: IIIfI die tonight, 1'm not far from Heaven!"

The basement was built with a large open fireplace, chimney reaching to the roofat the east gable, and another open fire place on the first noor in the kitchen-

l:i1:vingroom, chimney reaching the west gable of the roof. The basement fireplace was

a sheltered provision for butchering, stirring off applebutter, and soap-making.

However, ~ little brothers and sisters and me were just a little too late to get

in on these basement activities. Originally, there were two porches, extending

the full length of the house. One facing North, the other, the back porch, facing

the South. Here He could sit in the evening twilight, and listen to the melancholy

medley of croaking frogs, deep gutteral voices coming from the swamp nearby, mingled

with the high-pitched responses of the Ki tydids music, but the interesting and humor-

ous stories Mother would tell out of the rich store of her memory held our interestwithout distraction.

The summer kitchen then stood directly North of the house, in the shade of a beau-

tiful twin locust tree. The Summer-kitchen served as a dining room, during the ex-

treme hot months of the harvest, when the cooking would be done in an adjacent wood-shed. One time, the Nunemaker family, Father and Mother and their son Simon, stopped

over for dinner, at a late hour, and for convenience, mother set their table in the

woodshed. The dirt floor was uneven, and the old Father had an upset from the table.

It really was nothing funny, but just one of those things that would amuse boys and

girls as long as nobodY'-las seriously hurt. During the winter months, the summerhouse served as a laundry and in bad weather as a. playhouse. The old ccok stove

served well to keep a comfortable temperature, and there was a big iron kettle near

at hand for popping corn, and 1:£it wasn't that, it was cracking hickory nuts, wal-

nuts, butternuts, or roasting chestnuts. Perchance there was a karo syrup barrelto scrape, the girls would do the scraping, and boil down the scrapings to a taffy

stage, just the necessary ingredients for popcorn balls.

To us children, the old house, the original log ca.bin in which our older brothers

and sister first opened their eyes to the light of the world, was a landmark of

keenest interest. In our time, it has been modernized in exterior appearance by

board-siding it, and building a nice porch on the sunny South, and a summer kitchento the East. The interior had been partitioned into three down-stairs rooms, and

three' small low-ceiling upttairs rooms. The Ltlrns, A mos Brubaker, and George

Gotner families had in turn, occupied it as tennants, when our family vacated it.

But now in later years, most of the time it was vacant. After Albert's marriage,

he and his lovely bride gave it a rennovation, neatly redecorated the walls, and

spent the first few years of their married life here. This cozy cottage home proved

to become the environment of a red-headed grandson in whom his Grandmother Whisler

rea.1ized her dream, that some day a red-headed baby might be born in her family,and now she had the satisfaction of having him nearby, where she could observe his

development in his early years. However, Howard's birthplace was in the home ofhis Grandfather and Grandmother Oh1' s home.

In the spring of the year, the built-on kitchen to the old house served the good

p'~pose of a sheep shearing shop. There were plenty of doors and windows for goodventilation. When the victim of the shearing ordeal was finished, he could conven-

iently be turned loose into the a.djoining orchard pasture to join his comrades, or

to run away and hide if at all embarrassed because of his nudeness. The barber'sattendant could bail the fleeces and store them in an adjacent vacant room, to await

the buyers! appraisment.

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-15-

Whenit was Father Is and MotherIs turn to entertain thG!Spring Barn Love Feast,the old house served as a dormitory of th~ ~'JY guests. This was a necessary pro-vision, because the sleeping quarters in the main residence was filled, nook andcorner, with beds for the women.

In the years when Susie and Harriet were interested in dolls, the old house wasan ideal place for a play house. And when the ladies of the house were absent fromhome, supposed to be gone on a long journey, little brothers, following the practiceof Southern hospitality, 'Would take advantage of the vacancy. .Anintruder's peek,one day, when Charley and his newphewVernon Van Tilburg had taken charge, wasdramatically amusing. The laddies were about five years old, Vernon five monthsyounger than Uncle Charley -the place was set in order for housekeeping, and thetable was set 'With provisions for an expected guest. Then they sat down, host onone side of the table, the guest, supposed to be Jacob Hoover, on the other side.When orderly seated, the host says to his guest, "Check si fry", i.e., "Jacobbe free", or "Say grace n. And while heads were reverently bowed, Vernon mumbledunintelligible syllables, supposed to be a Germ&nGrace, mimicking Jacob Hoover.

The old log Mennonite Church in the wildwood, built by our ancestors, about 1840,stood close to the East line fence, church yard facing a read which cut its waystraight through the woods, north and south. This, and the little family buryingground centrally located on the farm where are maternal grandparents and grea~.grandparents rest, were to us things of fascinating interest in more ways than one.

For example, on a Sunday morning when Father had no preaching engagements at eitherof his churches, Chestnut or Pleasant Grove, at Mother's suggestion he would washour faces, necks and ears, comb our hair and dress us. Then chaperone us out throughthe half-mile lane and woods trail, to take our place in the congregation of theGerman Church. Here the venerable Bishop Peter Imhoff conducted the all-Germanservice. No church service or social chat there was ever desecrated by the Englishlanguage. On a summer Sunday morning, the church yard presented a most picturesquescene. There were high geared top buggies; rock-away carriages and an occasionaltwo seat, no spring wagon, with here and there the steeds hitched pro1t'i-scuouslyto the forest trees.

On week days we children shunned going by the "Gem House" because occasionallywe observed a windowshutter left open, and this supported the current opinion thatthe "Gem House" had come to be the harbor for tramps. Then to make us more waryof the place, some superstitious bachelor boys of the community were always circu-lating stories about spooks some passer-by was supposed to have seen. Passing thatway, we would look to see if any shutters were open, and sometimes there were, butwe never got sight of anything else. Anyhow, we enj oyed the Sunday service, listen-ing to the plenty-long German sermen, mingling our voices with the meter tunes, aslined by the minister, and kneeling with the congregation in seasons of prayer.

Arriving home, Father would report to Mother who all was there, and as there wereno telephones, and the people assembled came from considerable distances, mostlyfrom the North, but some from East, South and West, there was as a rule both goodand bad news to tell, about the health of the Cramers, the Gables, the Ballys, theNewsbaums, the Hartmans, the Hurshs, and the Rutts.

Father, himself being a young minister, would not fail to check up on the sleepers.If perchance it was a bot sultry summer day, with the singing of the birds, thechirping of the chipmonks, mingled with the lowsinging of the breezes through thebranches of the trees, the per cent of the sleepers might tally pretty high. As forwe children whose heads barely reached the high-up lazy back board of the seat, madeto support the shoulders of the adult worshippers, every thing was conducive 'bo ourwakefulness. Let us hope the good nan who served his congregation so patiently anduntiringly, received inspiration from our wakeful presence.

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-16-

Two verses of 11THEOLD CHURCH"by W. Lonax Childress, serve well to express eurcherished memory of the historic shrine. Though perhaps because it soon gave placeto ()ther country churches in the community, better fitted to meet the needs of thefollowing generatiOn, the poem may be even more expressiv:e of deeply felt sentimentalremembrances of the churches that nurtured the faith of early childhood.

"lIve been back to the country church I loved in days of yor&,I saw the horaes hitched about the old familiar door,And down the winding country ways where sweet the blossoms clingI found the faith of childhood such a fair and fragrant thing.

The robins breast was red against the baby-blue sky;The little winds were blessed balm, the bloom was on the rye;The veering ships of cloud were out and white ~s every sail,And silvery came the song and sweet the piping of the quail.

And with it all the church of old -my mother worshipped there;They led her to its altar as a bride so young and fair;And through its windows came the light that fell upon her face,When folded from the toil her hands, and reached the resting place.

There IOO.ybe other churches that are grander to the eye,There may be organs peeling out to shake the earth and sky,But oh, to rest the soul, be sure no comfort do they bringLike that in hymns that helped the heart the saints of old to sing.

I lingered in the morning light of that familiar place,And seemed to hear the prayers of old and feel the tender grace,I could not think of them away beyond the yearning heart,For GODis love, and they are His, and we can never part.

And so I think of it today upon the city street,The wind that ruffles up the grass where all the graves are sweet.

And like a rose that will not fade, preserved by heavenly art,The "old church" blooms and sweetens all the garden of my heart.

On Sunday afternoon when the cousins would be our guests, which was a commonex-perience, as a diversion from play we would visit the old family cemetary. Wewouldpay tribute of respect to the dead, by reading ill the inscriptions on the monumentsand slabs, then again we would count all the graves, of which at that time there wereexactly fifty-two. No custodian of a modern oemetary is likely to be better acquaint-ed with his charge than we children were of this spot, sacred to us for the most part,because of the interesting things mother told us about the people resting there.

A note from the Mermonite Cyclopedia Dictionary by Daniel KauffIOO.nserves very wellto keep this historic church alive in the memory of our generation. "Ashland, countyseat of Ashland County, Ohio. About the year 1840, or soon thereafter, a number ofMermonite settlements were made in northwestern Ohio which have long since becomeextinot. A house of worship was erected near Ashland, and for a time the congregationprospered. Amongthe family names were the Boyers, Nusvaums, Hartmans, Imhoffs,Rutts, etc. Amongthose in the ministry were John Hartman and Bishop Peter Imhoff,and probably a few others. At the time of the vlisler schism in Indiana, in 1872, boththis congregation and the one near Wooster sided with Wisler. For a number of rea80ns,the congregation near Ashland began to dwindle, until finally the few remaining mem-bers transferred their membership to the congregation near Wooster \-,hich at thepresent time numbers about sixty members."

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A commentary on the dying-out situation is given as liThe members of these settle-ments were slow to take advantage of the 'innovations' and preferred to die out withtheir German and no Sunday Schools, rather than to prosper by evangelistic measures".

The aversion to these devout fathers to ttinnovationsll was apparent to us who hadat least a little share in the task of vacating the "Gena House" of all its furnish-ings J preparatory to razing the structure. There were no candles, lamps or lanternsin this sanctuary. These devout people did not have night meetings. They heldtenaciously to the idea that Christians are children of light, and not of the dark-ness, and that they should meet for public worship in broad day light, rather thanfollow the example of the disciples of Christ, who after the Resurrection, met atnight behind closed doors for fear of the Jaws. There was no raised platform forthe preacher bench and pulpit stand. To them it would have been sacrmligious forthe man who should minister to the people to sit higher than his congregation; thismight foster pride and violate a very distinctive tenet of the Mennonite faith -theequality of believers. Whenwe va.cated the church, the friends whose parents hadworshipped there could come and claim some piece of furniture as a relic. There werethree pieces which by some right, we claimed as our own. One of the benches whichfoolishly we painted, but very appropriately put on the front porch, where for manyyears it served the practical purpose of a seat where the weary could sit and rest.But the quaintest of our findings, was a stowed-away, rustic little bench, just afour foot long slab, two inches thiok, supported by four peg legs. This, Fatherexplained, was Uncle Peter Bechtelts bench. When the congregation installed thecarpenter-constructed benches, Uncle Peter felt that he just couldn1t follow thefashion. His bench was quite comfortable and he preferred to sit upon it as longas he lived, which he faithfully did. For years it served a good purpose with ourbutchering equipment. It was just the thing on which to fasten the sausage grinderand stuffer. It was so used until later years when rlsiting the Newsbaumcousinsat Peabody, Kansas, he told them of the story of the razing of the church and thedisposition of the furnishings, they said, "That was our grandfather Bochtel1s benchand we would very mch like to have it 11; so when Father came home, he crated thebench, and shipped it to the original owner's grandsons.

The other piece of furniture, really the nicest piece of all, was the minister t sstand. It was a two-and-one-half by four feet table top, suported by a bucksawfashioned tressel for legs. A beautiful piece of hard wood, that if polished wouldgrace the parlor of any lady today, who has a taste for antiques. \olith us too itserved a practical purpose, of a convenient kitchen or basement work table.

The church differed from the other country churches of the community in havingonly one entrance door. But though men and women entered by the same door, theynever sat promiscuously in the audience. On both sides of the vestibule, at theentrance there was a door leading to the cloak rooms, one where the sisters couldhang their bonnets and shawls, and nurse a crying baby. The other little anteroomwas a convenience for the brethren, a place to hang their sombrero and overcoat.Also in one of these rooms, we found stored two little "foot washing tubs". Thesevessels, when used, were symbols of the lowly minded spirit of thoughtfulness forothers that characterized Christian Discipleship.

There were other things in the realm of Natural resources which linger as cherish-ed memories of which only a passing mention can be :made.

The sugar camp wherein a month of early Spring activities engaged. the interest ofevery member of the family in hard work and play. In a very real sense, this wasthe joy time of the first harvest of the new year. Extractine, the sweet sap fromthe maple and sugar trees and subjecting it to a process of evaporation to whatevercommodity was desired, oople SYruP, tat'fy or sugar. Any boy or girl who has spentwhole days and half of the night in the sugar camp, gathering the sap, with a teamhitched to a mud-sled, then boiled it down in spacious pans, over a brick furnace,would have tales to tell that would make a book of several chapters. And anyone who

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-18-haS grown up accustomed to having buckwheat or Johnny-cakes, ,-lith maple syrup forbreakfast would collaborate this statement, "For a palatable, digestible breskfastthere is nothing better."

Then there was that old hickory nut tree, which Father prizes so highly for thepleasure it afforded his youngsters. Boastfully, he would be heard to say to aneighbor, "r wouldn't take $100.00 for that hickory-nut tree." There it stoodso majestically near the center of the field. The fruit of this tree W6Bthenearest to the pecan variety of hickory-nut, produced by any native tree. Thefact that the tree was planted right on the border of a marsh where corn and pumpkinsand weeds of every variety grew to abnormal proportions, may have determined thequality and quantity of its nuts. Then, too, it served the good purpose of shadefrom the scorching heat of the sun for the cattle and sheep when the field was apasture land, and when plowed and cultivated for crops, it was a cool resting placefor a tired team of horses and the weary plowman.

Then, too, there was the..large black walnut tree at the North line fence. Thewalnuts from this tree could hardly be equalled in quality or quantity with thoseof any tree in Ashland County. They, too, were almost an unfailing Autumn harvest.A whole troup of us would go for them with the big wagon, and hull the,-, wholesale,through the corn sheller.

Several rods inland from the walnut tree was a wild cherry tree. The exceptionallygood quality of the cherries of this particular tree, which Mother would dry in thebake-oven, was a much appreciated contribution to her variety of dried fruits, elder-berries, peaches, apples and pear snitz. .Andof course, we children never forget theJuneberry tree at the edge of the woods, the black haws, the thorn apples, and theMayapples, even the thought of which would JInke a youngster's mouth water.Furthermore, we would reap a harvest of butternuts from two medium sized trees,one on the banks of the run just', across the bridge, the other one along the Southline fence, and on the hill side, a little further down, along the fence werehazel-nut bushes. As we think of it now, we wonder that Charley Hall had a marketfor his peanuts.

Not less interesting, especially to the boys, were the living creatures: domesticanimals, fur-bearing wild animals; fowls of the air and creeping things. The cottontail we tracked through the snow and caught in a box-trap; the chip-munk we drovefrom his barrow into our ooat sleeve; More important yet, the muskrat, groundhog,oppossum and skunk we caught in a trap, and if we didn't catch him, we knew whenhe prowled around nearby in the night.

Perhaps the most unforgettable of living flying things, would be the quails withtheir brood of swiftly hiding young, or an occasional gorgeously featherd pheasant,or the unique calling of a whippoorwill, and the hoot - ''who-ho-who-hull''of the wiseold owl from his shelter high up in the hollow of a tree. Little sister would neverforget her pet lamb, 't-lhose fleece was white as snow, and wherever sister went, her

Jlamb was sure to go. Little brother's fondest memories are of his pet rabbits, andthe turkey gobbler that flopped him; and we all have fondest memory of a kitten ofmany colors which a good friend dropped off in the lane as he was passing by.We remember this kitten because she became the mother of many generations of catsof many colors, of which Father boasted asbeing the best breed of mouse- and rat-catchers of any of which he had ever had.

"'\

/' . -

-19-..

The words of an Anonymousauthor, said to have been ,vri tten by a girlfifteen years of age, published many times because those who read them said,they like them better every time they read them, will serve the purpose ofa summary, transposing the things we have said, in home-spun prose, into poetry.

LITTIE BROWNHl1NDS

They drive home the cows from the pastureUp through the long shady lane,Where the quail whistles loud in the wheat fieldThat is yellow with ripening grain.

They find in the thick-waving grassesWhere the scarlet-1ipped strawberry grow;They gather the earliest snowdropsAnd the first crimson buds of the rose.

They toss the hay in the meadowThey gather the elder-bloom white;They find where the dusky grapes purpleIn the soft tinted October light.

They know ,.,here the apples hang ripestl~ are sweeter than Italy's wines;They know where the fruit hangs the thickestOn the long thorny blackberry vines.

They gather the deliaate sea weeds,And build tiny castles of sand;They pick up the beautiful seashells,Fairy barks that have drifted to land.

They wave from the tall rocking tree-tops,Where the oriole's hammock-nest swingsAnd at night time are folded in slumberBy a song that a fond mother sings.

Those who toil bravely are strongestThe humble and poor become great;And from these brown-handed childrenShall grow mighty rulers of State.

.. The pen of the author and statesmanThe noble and wise of the land -The sword and the chisel, and palette,Shall be held in the little brown hands.

J

."

(The use of this poem is not meant to convey the thought that the children whoare the subject of this manuscript think of themselves as being distinguishedand great in their achievements, but the sentiments of a happy country homelife are beautifully expressed as we experienced them, and none of us feeltbat we were to any disadvantage for being born and reared in such anenvironment.)