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Descendants of Thomas BOYLSTON, Jr.

227. SARAH MALINDA⁸ LOWE (MARY B.⁷ BOYDSTUN, BENJAMIN G.⁶, JAMES⁵, DAVID⁴ BOYDSTON, WILLIAM³ BOYLSTON, THOMAS², THOMAS¹) was born 27 Jun 1844 in Illinois, and died 20 May 1868 in Texas. She married GEORGE WASHINGTON GOODWIN 16 Nov 1865, son of JOHN GOODWIN and SARAH STARKEY. He was born 10 Dec 1841, and died 20 Jul 1908 in Ellis or Dallas Co, TX.

Children of SARAH LOWE and GEORGE GOODWIN are:

	i.		HENRY ELI⁹ GOODWIN I, b. 24 Jul 1866; d. 04 Jul 1938; m. ROSA ETTA SHAW, 13 Jun 1895; b. 28 May 1872; d. 19 Jan 1952.
	ii.		ALBERT WALTER GOODWIN, b. 14 May 1868; d. 11 May 1931; m. DAISY P. HARTIN, Unknown; b. 09 Sep 1881; d. 12 May 1960.

228. JOHN NEWTON⁸ HOLLAND (MALINDA⁷ BOYDSTUN, BENJAMIN G.⁶, JAMES⁵, DAVID⁴ BOYDSTON, WILLIAM³ BOYLSTON, THOMAS², THOMAS¹) was born 24 Aug 1830 in Kentucky, and died 19 Jun 1910 in Dallas Co, TX. He married ORZILLA M. HEATH 08 Jan 1852 in Dallas Co, TX, by Wm. Horne, JP. She was born 04 Jun 1833 in Indiana, and died 18 Jun 1914 in Ellis Co, TX.

Children of JOHN HOLLAND and ORZILLA HEATH are:

	i.		J. LUTHER⁹ HOLLAND, b. Abt. 1854, Texas; d. Unknown.
	ii.		GEORGE H. HOLLAND, b. 05 Feb 1861, (May be George F); b. Texas; d. 01 Jan 1952, Texas.
	iii.		J. C. HOLLAND, b. Abt. 1863, (May Be J.G.); b. Texas; d. Unknown.
	iv.		HENRY W. HOLLAND, b. 1867, Texas; d. 1948, Texas; m. MARY ETTA COPE, Unknown; b. 1876, "Etta" b. Dallas Co, TX; d. 1961, Texas.
	v.		R. ELIN HOLLAND, b. Abt. 1874, Texas; d. Unknown.

229. MORDECAI FRANKLIN⁸ HOLLAND (MALINDA⁷ BOYDSTUN, BENJAMIN G.⁶, JAMES⁵, DAVID⁴ BOYDSTON, WILLIAM³ BOYLSTON, THOMAS², THOMAS¹) was born 08 Dec 1837 in Illinois, and died 20 Feb 1873 in Dallas Co, TX. He married MARTHA J. VAUGHT 08 Nov 1861 in Dallas Co TX, daughter of ANDREW VAUGHT and SARAH WILSON. She was born 28 Feb 1844 in Cedar Hill, Dallas Co, TX, and died 26 Oct 1916 in Tarrant Co, TX.

Notes for MORDECAI FRANKLIN HOLLAND:
The following was written by an unknown daughter of Mordecai and Ada Bundy Holland. She apparently wrote at least four more chapters but regretfully, this compiler does not have them. An accompanying letter from Whittier, California, dated simply Sept. 13th states that the chapter is not meant for a chronicle of all persons in the family and is "creative writing based on the truth." It is signed, "R.L." The author further says that all the incidents mentioned are true.

Book Title:      THE COTTONFIELDS BACK HOME
Chapter Title:      The Ties That Bind

In 1848 three families of Hollands and two families of Boydstuns. all blood relations, came in covered wagons from their homes in Illinois to Texas to homestead land. There were Boydstuns who remained in Illinois. but all of the Hollands migrated. Eventually. the five families took up land in The Valley -- that beautiful expanse of rich farm land lying southward beyond the blue hills which formed the southern horizon of my childhood world.

As the years passed and the young people grew up there were marriages among those who migrated and others whose families had previously settled in The Valley. One marriage was between Mordica Holland and Martha Vaut. whose family had come to The Valley before Texas gained Independence from Mexico. The marriage date of the couple was October 8. 1861.

Mordica and Martha became the parents of four children, three girls and one boy. Two girls, Lou and Mary, were born before Mordica left to fight for the South in the Civil War. After his return a girl. Ada. and a boy, Ira. were born. The youngest girl. Ada. became my mother, while Ira grew up and married Jettie Cornelius their three children were my childhood playmates.

Lou was the first of Martha's girls to marry, and in view of the strong feelings of those years and times, her marriage had been a blow to the Texas branch of the family.

It was the custom of the members of the Boydstun clan who had remained in Illinois to make extended visits to their relatives in The Valley during the severe northern winters. They boarded the train in Galesburg and came south to Dallas, where they were met and parcelled out among the Texas clan for weeks of visiting.

One year among the visitors were Aunt Jane Boydstun and her son. Tom. Lou Holland was visiting in The Valley too. and. although she and Tom were cousins the relationship was not considered a deterrent to marriage. Tom Boydstun was very persuasive and he promised Lou that if she would marry him and go to Illinois to live, she could return home for a visit every year.

Family ties were stronger between the Illinois clan and those of the Valley Hollands than they were with my grandmother, born of a father who had fought for Texas independence. Martha was now a widow -- she had seen Mordica go to the War and return in ill health. She had seen him work to gather a trail herd when the South was destitute for money. Those were hard years and the cattle drive was the end of the ranch, only the homestead remained and it was soon surrounded by other homesteaders-some of them legitimate and some of the 'carpetbagger, variety. During a blizzard, Mordica was taken with a violent pneumonia and died soon after. With her children, now growing up. Martha remained on the homestead.

It was not the blood relationship that caused Martha Holland's objections to her daughter's marriage to Tom Boydstun. There was The North and The South, and from the tips of her toes to the topmost strands of her auburn hair. Martha was a Southerner -- through and through. I do not know if her objections were the reason the promised yearly visits south did not materialize for Lou, but I do know that correspondence went on between Illinois and Texas and I was told about my cousins, far away in the North.

Aunt Lou had a large family and one of the older children was a daughter, Ruby. When Ruby was in her late teens, the year I believe was 1909, when Mama and Aunt Lou arranged a visit.

The ideas that children form from attitudes of elders, and scraps of conversations which they hear. are very real in childhood. Although I did not hear any direct statements regarding such conniving. I somehow knew that Cousin Ruby's visit was to be a peace-making mission. We had all heard about her beauty and charm. and when Papa took the surrey and went to Fort Worth to meet her train I was so excited and impatient that I kept after Mama all day, asking her over and over again how much longer it would be until they were home.

On the alert, I saw them coming when they turned the comer at the Lowe place and went immediately to the kitchen to relate my important news. Mama's apron was clean, but she removed it and put on a fresh, starchy one, she took a pan of hot biscuits from the oven and placed them in the warming compartment of the big range. It was still daylight. but the sun had gone down and she lit the lamps earlier than usual. In the small dining room she placed a lamp on the sideboard, where it cast a soft glow over the white linen tablecloth. Earlier, I had set the table using the knives and forks that had 'Made in England' engraved on their undersides.

I'll never forget Cousin Ruby as she looked when Papa helped her down to the ground and she turned to face us. Her eyes were sky blue and she had Grandma's auburn hair which she wore in a long. thick braid that reached almost to her waist. At the nape of her neck was a blue ribbon bow, and on her head was a cute little sailor hat. Her navy blue travelling dress reached almost to her ankles and she had a travelling bag, of the same material, which closed with a drawstring carrying cord.

She smiled and said, 'Aunt Ada," as she greeted Mama with a hug and kiss. She then turned to me and bent over to give my shoulders a hug as she repeated my name. Then Papa brought her suitcase and we walked towards the kitchen entrance. The talk was friendly ... the little house was cheerful ... there was no "North" and no 'South'...on that night and throughout her stay family ties were forged anew.

On a Sunday of her visit there was a gathering of the clan at our house. Grandma came and welcomed the granddaughter she had never seen. I know Cousin Ruby's mission was a success, because the very next year Aunt Lou herself came for a long visit.

When Mary was still very young she fell in love with a young man. Sam Cook, who had come to Texas in search of land. During the seventies and eighties there were many such travelers coming through the country mostly they were from Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee they came in covered wagons and on horseback. and the goal of everyone was a piece of land to settle on.

This was before the main road came through and they followed the trail that led past Martha's homestead. Sam Cook was with a party travelling in covered wagons and for several weeks their wagons, with the women and children, were camped in Martha's pasture while the men were away on horseback looking for homes.

When Martha opposed the match, Mary ran away and married Sam Cook. They went to live on a hay ranch in an adjoining county. Although the distance was only about seventy-five miles, in those days of cross-country trails, covered wagons and no telephones, there was no visiting and little communication.

It was not until the advent of Model T's that our families picked up the threads and began visiting with each other. Before our first Model T though. I remember when I was seven or eight years old, Aunt Mary came to our farm and we then took her in the surrey to see Grandma.

A long lane (this was part of the original trail used before the county road came through) led from the main road up to Grandma's house. It was at this stretch the horses knew they were nearing the end of a journey and were loath to move beyond a slow walk.

On this day Mama had Papa stop the surrey before we reached the grove of cottonwoods outside the yard and let me out. I could run faster than the horses would walk. and she wanted me to go ahead and tell Grandma we were coming.

As I reached the back porch I called, 'Grandma. Grandma, it's Aunt Mary come to see you." Grandma came out on the porch she had on a long apron over her dress and was holding a large wooden stirring spoon In her hand. Surprise was engraved upon her face as she came across the yard and opened the gate. the spoon still in her hand. The surrey had just pulled up into the cottonwood grove and Mama and Papa and Aunt Mary were getting out. A poignant scene took place beneath those cottonwoods that day. There were hugs. kisses and tears. and I believe this was Aunt Mary's first reunion with Grandma since her elopement.

When Martha became a widow left with four children, she had a difficult time on the homestead. Her younger brother. Dee Vaut, had stayed with her and managed the ranch when Mordica went to the War. He had helped in rounding up the cattle. branding and readying the cattle for the drive to Abilene and had gone with Mordica all the way to the big market in Chicago. And now that Martha was alone again he returned to help her.

The place, however, was no longer a ranch. it was trying to be a farm and his heart was in cows, not cotton. The change in the country that came when farming took over wrought a change in Dee, he was restless and couldn't settle down. Good at cards, he became all wrapped up In what went on in the gambling establishments in Ft. Worth. When he dressed up in his broadcloth suit, saddled his beautiful mare and rode away, there was no telling when he would return. Martha raised her turkeys and chickens, fed and watered the stock and milked the cow. Beyond this, there was little she could do.

Lou and Mary were growing up and attended school at the Mansfield Academy. They rode back and forth horseback and in bad weather Martha arranged for them to stay in the town with friends. They often visited their grandmother in the Valley, where visiting, partying and banqueting went on at a lively pace. Martha rarely left the homestead she did not like the horseback trip across the prairie to beyond the blue hills, but she wanted her girls to have the benefit and fun that such group activities meant for them.

One late afternoon Martha and the two children were alone and at the windmill, carrying water to the chickens and turkeys and filling the big stock-watering tank when a strange acting dog came up the lane and started towards them. Martha sensed immediately that this was a rabid dog.

"Get behind the granary," she directed the two children, as she picked up a big stick, shook it at the dog and said, "Go away, go away." Luckily the dog was not vicious and the stick and scolding started him on down the lane. Ada and Ira came from behind the granary (which had been the bunkhouse when the place was a ranch) and all three were standing at the windmill. looking down the lane after the dog when they saw a strange rider approaching.

The cottonwood grove, the windmill and its stock-watering tank were a pleasant invitation to passersby. Few could resist the opportunity for a short rest in the shade and a refreshing drink of cool water.

"Evening Ma'am," the stranger said as he rode up, touching his hand to his hat brim. "Mind if I help myself to a drink of water and let my horse have a drink?"

"Yes. of course, help yourself," Martha answered, noticing his clean attire, his neatly clipped beard and friendly face. "We always leave the gourd dipper where the water flows from the well into the tank, and people passing by are welcome to use it."

The stranger led his horse to the water first, and then filled the dipper and quenched his own thirst. The children were looking at the beautiful dun-colored horse, the tooled leather saddle and the outfit that included saddle bags and a bedroll.

Ira moved closer and remarked about the pretty horse to the man.

"Yep," the stranger said, every night before I feed him I rub him down good and brush his mane and tail.. That keeps all the cockleburs and dust out and makes his coat shiney and healthy. Then he turned to Martha and inquired, "Was that your dog I saw down the lane a piece? Looked to me like he had hydrophoby."

"I am certain he does," Martha replied. "No. he is not ours and I don't believe he belongs on any of the neighboring farms. I wish the poor thing could be put out of its misery."

"You don't object then, if I catch up with him and shoot him?" He looked at Martha for her consent. "I'll ride on before he gets too far away, then. If you've got a shovel I'll come back and get It and bury him."

"You are very kind and I'd appreciate that. We'll have a shovel ready," Martha assured him.

Soon they heard the shot and then the stranger returned for the shovel. "These critters shouldn't be left where they might infect even a hawk. I'll put him in the ground and cover him good," he said. As he took the shovel and rode away again.

The sun was now beneath the western horizon and all the prairie was bathed in the soft hues of dusk. Martha turned to Ira, "Son," she said, "When the stranger returns with the shovel you take it and tell him your Ma says he is to stay for supper if he likes." Then she and Ada returned to the loghouse and began preparations for the meal.

A pot of stew made of vegetables and beef was simmering on the range. After adding wood to the firebox. Martha brought out her big wooden mixing bowl that already had the flour and dry ingredients in it for making biscuits. In no time, for she was a fast worker as well as a good cook, she had added the lard and buttermilk, rolled out the dough at her kitchen cabinet and applied the biscuit cutter. Soon she had a large pan of biscuits, each plump piece dipped in the hot lard of the already heated pan, then turned greased side up to come out of the oven a mellow gold when finished.

Ada had the table set with the red and white checked cloth on it. She lit an extra lamp and placed it at the far end of the long table.

Then they heard Ira bring his new friend on the porch to the bench where a large enameled pitcher of water, the washpan and a generous chunk of Martha's homemade lie soap were always ready. On a rack above the bench there were clean towels with feather-stitched hems, ready for use.

Martha came to the door as they finished and invited the stranger inside.

"This is mighty nice of you, Ma'am," he said, and then he introduced himself. "My name is Ervin, Robert Ervin from Missouri."

"I am Mrs. Holland.' Martha responded. "And these are my children, Ada and Ira. My brother is usually with us, but he has been away several days. You are welcome to share with us what we have."

"Smells mighty good, and I shore appreciate a home cooked meal. It's hard to find decent food on the trail. Lots of nights I open a can of tomatoes and eat cheese and crackers I have picked up at some store."

In the lamplight Martha noticed his light brown hair, which reached his shoulders, was streaked with grey. As she filled his coffee cup, he smiled his thanks.

During the leisurely meal Robert Ervin talked about his trip down the trail, of the work he was doing in surveying and helping lay out townsites. He had heard of several prospects a little farther south and was on his way to investigate.

Ira, thrilled with his experiences and full of questions, kept injecting "Mr. Ervins" into his talk. Finally, the stranger turned to him and said, "Son, just call me Robert --- all of you, I'd appreciate you calling me Robert."

They parted good friends, almost like old friends, as Robert Ervin rode away into the night. Throughout the coming months he found time to ride back for Sunday visits and within the year he and Martha were married the year was 1878.

The habits of children are hard to change and after the marriage the Holland offspring continued to call their step-father Robert. When his own children. Ida and Elmer, were learning to talk they followed the example of the older children and also called their father Robert. It was not until later years when Ada and Ira were married and had families that Robert fell heir to a family-related titles then, to children and elders alike, he became our beloved Grandpa Ervin.

Under Robert's expert management the homestead took on a new, prosperous looks with its acres tilled and productive. It was no longer just a has-been ranch. A huge new barn was built and painted a dark burgundy. Well maintained the farm, with its quaint loghouse, roses, honeysuckles, green grass lawn, was a pleasant abode.

The house was a story and a half affair and was large enough even when the family size increased. A stairway led up from the middle room to a large loft room and this was both playroom and bedroom for the girls. There were book shelves and bunk beds, rag rugs and low, armless rocking chairs also there was a long table with a bench where they studied, sewed, drew pictures, played games and read magazines. Half windows with cretonne curtains and a sloped ceiling made the upstairs hide-away completely cozy and charming. Even as long as the two older girls were home, the house was roomy and comfortable.

Ada left in 1886 to attend Add-Ran College in Thorp Springs, Texas. When later on the school was moved to Ft. Worth it became Texas Christian University. After graduating from the college, she taught school at locations near enough home for her to ride horseback (sidesaddle) back and forth from home.

In the latter nineties when Ira had married and was on his own, Robert needed extra help on the farm. And just as he himself had ridden this way looking for work years before, it so happened that one day, in 1898. a young man from Georgia came seeking work. Robert liked his appearance and hired Richard Heatley.

Richard had been farming since he was twelve years old. His own father was never able to do hard work after his injuries in the War, and it fell upon Richard to farm the land enough to keep his ten sisters. mother and father and himself from starvation. The land he farmed was poor and the scanty yields of corn, beans and potatoes were all they had. Then. seeking something better, they moved to the town of Trion. Georgia. where there was a cottonmill. The mother and the older sisters went to work in the mill and Richard got work helping out on a farm. In a few years the mother and the sisters came down with consumption from breathing the lint In the mill. The mother was first to die, the sisters soon after. The family was broken up; the father took the younger girls and went to live on a mountain, Sand Mountain, in Alabama, and Richard left for Texas. He wanted to farm, and he wanted better ground and farming conditions than any he had known.

Robert liked Richard and carefully taught him all the skills of farming the Texas black land soil. The family also liked the blue-eyed. handsome young man from Georgia. It was not long until Richard and Ada were attending church, community social gatherings, such as picnics and box suppers at the school, together.

When the Battleship Maine was sunk in Cuban waters and the Spanish-American War broke out, Richard enlisted. The Ervins assured him there was a place on their farm for him when the war was over. To Richard. the Ervin farm was now home, and he went away to the war feeling he had a family to come back to.

One day in the summer of 1899 Ada was standing in the door of the middle room of the loghouse, looking across the field, when she saw a blue uniform --- someone walking toward the house. She knew who it was, and went out to meet him.

Richard came back from the war a very disillusioned soldier. He did not get to charge up San Juan Hill with Teddy Rooseveldt's Rough Riders; he was stuck in the swamps of Florida in a camp where there was little discipline and no decent food. The soldiers had to sleep with their shoes and clothes on to keep them from being stolen. Most of the food given them was spoiled and rotten and the hardtack practically took the lining out of their stomachs. When the war ended and the soldiers were mustered out, Richard gladly accepted his honorable discharge and left immediately for Texas.

Richard wanted to locate acreage to farm for himself. Robert had taught him well in the growing of good cotton, how to nurture the soil to its finest fertility and how to plant and cultivate. Ada had a little money saved from teaching and Richard also had a small amount saved from wages and Army pay -- enough for them to make a down payment on one hundred and fifty acres of blackland for sale seven miles north of the Ervin place. There was a loghouse on the branch where the old trail had gone through. The new county road was half a mile away; they planned to build on the main road and add to their acreage as soon as they harvested a few good crops.

So Ada, the youngest of the Holland daughters, was married in 1901. She was past thirty, twice as old as the first two daughters who were married in their teen years. Ida was now a young woman. All through the years of her growing up Ada and Ida had been very companionable and dear to each other. Martha enjoyed her daughters and between these three, with the quiet and happy years they had spent together an unusually strong bond of affection had been forged.

When I was a small child I sensed and felt this affection carried over to me. They talked to me of their past experiences; my mother often told me about times when she was a little girl and Grandma enjoyed telling me all about days gone by. One of my favorite pastimes when I was at Grandmas house would be to
take the red plush family picture album and sit beside her on the horsehair sofa, and have her tell me about all the persons whose pictures were enframed within those covers. (I still have that album.)

It is from these childhood associations, and the time those dear ones gave to me so long ago. that I am able now to write this chapter.

Ira married Jettie Cornelius. whose family lived on a farm in the community, In 1898.

Jettie Holland, my Aunt Jettie, was to me one of the dearest people -- as a child I never felt any difference in my affection for her than I had for Grandma and Aunt Ida. Children do get to the deep-down truth of things, much more than grown people suspect. To me, for example, what did it matter if Aunt Jettie was Aunt-in-law and not a real aunt. My heart told me what she was to me; in my memory she will ever remain the dearest aunt of all.

As the years passed, Ira's and Jettie's children were Iva, Morda (short for Mordica) and Aubrey -- playmates of those happy times.

Uncle Ira's and Aunt Jettie's farm adjoined Grandma and Grandpa Ervin's place at their eastern-western boundaries. The farm was purchased from the family who had originally homesteaded the land years before. A brick house had been built during the nineties. and it was to this relatively new brick home that Ira and Jettie Holland moved when they were married.

I remember this house so well. The bricks were painted grey and it had a front porch extending out from the center front; the gabled roof of the porch and the hipped roof of the house were finished with a white, fence-like gingerbread trim at the eaves. Large bay windows were in the front rooms, while the front door leading into the wide entrance hall had long floor-length windows each side. If I had a dreamhouse in my childhood, this was the house. I loved it, and was heartbroken when it was torn down during the 1920's for a new bungalow.

Grandma passed away in 1916; born In 1844, her life span was seventy-two years. I have a copy of the Mansfield Mirror dated November 3, 1916, that carried her obituary. The following excerpts were part of the historical write-up that filled almost a column of the paper:

"In the death of Mrs. Ervin, another of the old homes that have meant so much in the development of all the vital things of our community, has been broken up, leaving only the memory of the kind hearts and gentle faces that made these firesides what they were .... Mrs. Ervin's life was one of quiet dignity, and she fostered in her children the love of high ideals, good literature, and beauty in all its different forms. She held the respect and love of all who knew her, and leaves our community better for having lived in it."

Grandpa Ervin lived only a few years after her passing. All of Grandma's children, both Hollands and Ervins, now are gone. As of 1975, there are nine Holland descended cousins: four of Lou's children, two of Mary's. two of Ira's, and myself, Ada's daughter.

All family sagas in time reach their endings, for I believe a family saga can continue only so long as its generations feel a bond of affection for those who have gone before. Our ancestry could probably be traced back to the Mayflower and to the old countries. but I can't feel any affection for people so far removed that kinship no longer exists.

Mine is a saga that began in 1848 with the first Mordica Holland' Martha Vaut's first husband was the second Mordica and my cousin is the third. The people of whom I have written are known to me, either from actual contact or first-hand knowledge, such as that gleaned from my grandmother and my own mother. Their lives were lived during a very colorful period in the history of our country, and nowhere else in the world of the future can the conditions and patterns of life which thus were fostered, be duplicated. There have been no famous or great people, no politicians. no lawyers, no doctors, no merchant and no chiefs. Basically, however, they were of the people -- the grassroots people -- whose integrity, self-reliance and spiritual values were necessary to the growth of a strong nation.

Reaching backward across the years to the first Mordica, there are fifth generation descendants of our family now in their prime, who will carry the Holland saga, I hope, into the new century. These are my own daughter, the daughter of the third Mordica, and the son of a Cook daughter. Regarding other
descendants further removed through associations. distance and years, their feelings are probably the same as mine would be, if I tried to extract from history the predecessors to 1848.

Children of MORDECAI HOLLAND and MARTHA VAUGHT are:

MALINDA LOUISE⁹ HOLLAND, b. 17 Oct 1862, "Lou" b. Mansfield, Tarrant Co, TX; d. 24 Dec 1928, Abingdon, Knox Co, IL; m. THOMAS MARSHALL BOYDSTUN, 26 Jun 1891, Moberly, Randolph Co, MO; b. 06 Oct 1853, Knox Co, IL; d. 01 Oct 1925, East Moline, IL.

Notes for MALINDA LOUISE HOLLAND:
Malinda Louise Holland's family objected to her marriage to Thomas M. Boydstun; not because they were cousins, but because he was a Northerner. Her father fought for the Confederacy, and her mother was described as being a Southerner "from the tips of her toes to the topmost strands of her auburn hair."

Notes from Malinda's obituary:

Burial is from Christian Church, Dr. Adam K. Adcock, pastor.
Funeral held at 2:30 Thursday afternoon. Male quartet composed of F.W. Reynolds, J. E. Ground, G. W. Dawdy, L.E. Cutler. George Trovillo, Jr. presided at piano.

Flowers were tended by Mrs. Fern Tinkham, Mrs. Lucille Flickinger, Mrs. Maxine Johns, Miss Annie Marry.

Pall bearers were F.H. Mead, J.W. Shiplett, D. C. Cutler, Ardie Jones, Harry Helander.

Burial at Abingdon Cemetery.

Graduated Valley Seminary at Midlothian, Texas.

Leaves 2 step children, six children, two sisters, three brothers, friends.

Notes for THOMAS MARSHALL BOYDSTUN:
Information from:
Portrait & Biographical Album of Knox County, Illinois, 1886, p. 483-484
Obituary of Malinda L. Boydstun
Abingdon City Cemetery Records
Indian Point Cemetery Records

death location from Huggins Funeral Home Records.

ii.

MARY E. HOLLAND, b. 1865; d. 25 Jan 1940; m. SAM W. COOK, 06 Nov 1881, Washington Co, TN - at least 2 children; b. Abt. 1846, Res Watauga Co, NC in 1881; d. Unknown.

Notes for MARY E. HOLLAND:
When Mary was still very young, she fell in love with a young man, Sam Cook, who had come to Texas in search of land. Sam Cook was with a party traveling in covered wagons and for several weeks, their wagons were camped in Martha V. Holland's pasture while the men were out looking for homestead sites.

When Martha opposed the match, Mary ran away and married Sam Cook. They went to live on a hay ranch in an adjoining county. Although the distance was only 75 miles, in those days there was little visiting and little communication. It was a very long time before Mary returned for a visit, but Martha was overjoyed to see her.

iii.

ADA HOLLAND, b. 1868; d. 03 Jan 1957, some sources say b. 1869 d. 1937; m. JOHN RICHARD HEATLEY, Unknown, at least one daughter; b. 1866; d. 23 Mar 1940, Res Georgia; Res Texas 1898; Span/Amer War Vet.

Notes for JOHN RICHARD HEATLEY:
Richard Heatley came to the Holland farm, then run by Robert Ervin in the late 1890s. He was from Georgia, and had been farming since he was 12 years old. Richard's father had been severely injured in the war, and it fell upon Richard to run the farm to keep his family from starvation. They had moved to the town of Trion, Georgia, where there was a cotton mill. Richard's mother and older sisters went to work in the mill, and Richard got work helping out on a farm. However, the mother and sisters came down with consumption from working in the mill and eventually died. The family was broken up. The father took the younger girls and went to live on Sand Mountain in Alabama, and Richard left for Texas.

Robert Ervin, in need of a farm hand, liked his appearance and hired him to help run the farm. The family liked the blue-eyed handsome man, and before long, he and Ada were attending church and community gatherings together.

When the Battleship Maine was sunk in Cuban waters and the Spanish-America War broke out, Richard enlisted. The Ervins assured him there was a place for him at their farm when he returned from war.

As it happened, Richard was assigned to a swamp in Florida in an undisciplined camp with very little food. Theft was commonplace, and their food was spoiled. When the war ended, and the soldiers were mustered out, Richard gladly took his honorable discharge and returned to Texas, disillusioned.

With the money he saved in the Army and the money Ada had saved from teaching, they had a down payment on 150 acres of blackland 7 miles north of the Ervin place. There was a house on the land and a new county road nearby. So Ada and Richard married in 1901. She was past 30.

iv.

IRA FRANKLIN HOLLAND, b. 17 Feb 1871; d. 28 Aug 1949, Mansfield, Tarrant Co, TX; m. JETTIE CORNELIUS, 03 Oct 1899, Mansfield, Tarrant Co, TX; b. 08 Jul 1872; d. 11 Jan 1950, Mansfield, Tarrant Co, TX.

Notes for IRA FRANKLIN HOLLAND:
Ira Holland and Jettie Cornelius were married in a double ceremony with Jettie's cousin, Zella Lois Duke and D. O. Hopkins. The ceremony was performed by Rev. William A. Pool at the Charles Benjamin Cornelius faily home. The Hollands then lived on the Mansfield, Texas, farm, while the Hopkins lived in Webb, Texas, later moving away to work for the railroad.

When their friends, the Greens, bought the first automobile in Mansfield, Texas, Ira told them he would help with expenses if they would drive his family to the Dallas State Fair. They agreed. When they returned to Mansfield, Ira immediately ordered his first automobile.

Ira and Jettie Holland were lifetime farmers, raising cattle, chickens, turkeys, pigs, corn, oats, and cotton. They raised most of their own food and had a smokehouse to hang the meat to cure. They had a Delco light system before there was rural electricity. Jettie was particularly gifted in needlework, and made delicate tatting and lace, which she used for doilies as well as trimming clothes and linens.

They were active members of the Webb Baptist Church.

In 1949, the Hopkins and Hollands planned to have a double golden wedding anniversary celebration, but Ira died suddenly on 23 Aug 1949, two months before the planned event. His wife died in January 1950. The Hopkins lived to celebrate their 64th wedding anniversary.

Notes for JETTIE CORNELIUS:
Jettie Cornelius came from a family who lived in the community. She was described as one of the dearest people.

She and Ira lived on a farm that adjoined the Ervin farm at their east/west boundaries. A brick house had been built on the land not long before Jettie and Ira bought it, so they moved into a nearly new brick house when they married. The bricks were painted grey and the front porch extended out from the center front. The gabled roof of the porch and the hipped roof of the house were finished with white gingerbread trim at the eaves. Large bay windows were in the front rooms, while the front door leading into the wide entrance hall had long, floor-length windows on each side.

MAUDIE HOLLAND, b. Mar 1873, born a month after her father's death; d. Abt. May 1873, Died at 2 mos; Dallas Co, TX.

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