Notes for Cora Redding My Folks and Their Folks My great-grandparents, the Myrphy, came to this country from Ireland in the late 1700s. long before the mass Irish immigration in 1849. They settled in Tennessee and had five daughters. The youngest girl married a man named Redding and they later had five daughters and one son. The son, Thomas, was born on January 15, 1830. He was my father. His parents died from a fever, and the Myrphy grandparents took the six children to raise them. A short time later, their oldest daughter died in a home fire, leaving nine children. The Myrphy took them in too. Including their own five, the Myrphy raised twenty children. My father was three when his parents died, so really his grandparents were the only parents he knew. His grandmother must have had a wonderful philosophy as nothing daunted her courage. She had no patience with shiftless people and when speaking of them would say " Small potatoes and few in a hill". My father told me she had many quaint sayings that were all mixed in with her sweet Irish wit. His grandfather Myrphy died long before his grandmother, and my father lived with her until he was twenty-five. The Myrphys must have been well to do, money wise, as each of the children received $500 at the time of their grandmother's death. In 1858 father was rejected by the army because he was nearsighted. He was a powerful man and a rugged individual. He was a timberman and he cleared land, using the logs to build cabins and barns on that property; he would then sell that place and start on another. He always had buyers for the improved land because not everyone was skilled in timber construction. Father left Tennessee and went to Massac County, Illinois where he bought timberland to clear. He built a cabin on the land and soon afterward met a young lad named Nancy Jane Grace. ( Her people had moved there from Indiana. ) A romance sprang up between them; they married and moved into his cabin. Nancy Jane was twenty, and as father always said "She was a mighty pretty woman". She had long black curly hair, a fair complexion, and deep blue eyes. She was the daughter of Allen and Charlotte (McKelcyea) Grace, who were of Scottish and English descent. The Graces had seven children and my mother Nancy Jane was the oldest. She was born on December 25, 1839. Samuel the oldest boy drowned when he was young. The other children were Charlotte, Elijah, Ellen, and two babies who died. My mother told me about an incident that happened when she was eight. Her father sold a cow in the forenoon for $40 and hid his money in their cabin. Later that day went to a funeral on horseback, taking the baby but leaving Nancy Jane to care for the other children. Riding home late, her folks heard the dogs barking and her father rode on ahead to see what was the matter. Later Nancy Jane told them she had just barred the door and gone to bed (on the floor as there were no beds at the time) when there was pounding on the door. The children started screaming, which aroused the dogs. Whoever it was must have had a bad time as her mother heard him cursing and fighting all the way down the ravine. They never did find out who it was, but they always wondered if it was the man who bought the cow as he knew about the money and also knew the folks were going to the funeral. In 1860, shortly after my mother was married, there was a sourge of black measles. Her nineteen year old sister Charlotte took them and was very sick and in a coma. Her folks had little hope for her life as most everyone who had them died. The rest of the family were devout Christians, but not "Lottie" as Charlotte was called. She had not made a profession of Christian faith and her folks were deeply grieved. Since the last two babies had died, fourteen year old Ellen was now the baby of the family. Ellen had heard her folks talking and praying and she understood what troubled them. She left the house and was gone for a long time. When she returned she said: " Mother, I've had a talk with the lord and I am about to die in Lottie's place." I have often wondered what I would have said,but Ellen's mother bless her heart, knowing that this life is not to be compared with eternal life, braced her self and said " God's will be done my child". What a dark time it was for them. Ellen gave all of her possessions to her family for keepsakes. That night she went after the cows with her father and stayed with him while he milked, came back past the pups and bid them goodbye, came on in the house and ate supper. She was the only one who could eat. She laughed and talked and seemed to be wrapped in perfect peace. Her only request was for them to tell Lottie that she had died in her place so that Lottie could have a chance to know the Lord. Ellen passed away in her sleep that night. Lottie was in a coma for many days, but Then did recover. When they told her of her little sister's devotion she wept and did accept the Lord. Out of seven children, only three were left, but they did not mourn over the loss of Ellen as she was always too happy to invited sorrow for those she loved. The family always spoke lovingly of her as "Little Ellen". Her memory remained enshrined in their hearts - the little girl-woman too wise for her years, who her all for the Savior she loved. My parents, Nancy Jane and Thomas, lost their first baby boy at birth. Another boy was born a year or so later. When the baby was eight months old, mother was sitting on the doorstep one afternoon with him playing on her lap. My father was cutting timber a short way away. All at once, the baby stopped playing and seem to be listening. Away in the distance, my mother heard music, it came closer and louder, then faded away into the distance again. It was the most beautiful music she had ever heard. The baby went back to his play while she pondered about this strange happening. By that time the next day, the baby was dead. My mother told us that she did not grieve over him as that experience was a comfort to her. My sister Charlotte and my brother John were born in Illinois. The folks sold out there and moved to Iowa. They were getting a little closer to the frontier. My brother Solomon was born in Iowa; also a little sister who did not live. They lived in Iowa for five years. (Some of the Reddings and Graces had already gone to Kansas. It seems that they were living in southern Iowa in a wet, swampy area and were often ill with fever, probably malaria. They went west to Ottawa County in central Kansas, where their health improved so dramatically that they wrote to the Thomas Redding and begged them to come to Kansas too. F.M.K) Note: Thomas Redding's cousin Green Murrie also moved to Ottawa Kansas "for health of his family". When father decided to go to Kansas he sold his land (80 acres) in Iowa, fixed up the moving wagon and headed for the "promised land". He drove a fine team of horses, and horses moved faster than the oxen that some settlers drove. Winter was getting close, so my folks decided to sop off in Weaubleau, Missouri. Father rented a house, put the children in school and found work in the timber. On April 23, 1870 I was born. The colored midwife gave me the name Cora and the folks gave me the name Ellen in remembrance of mother's sister "Little Ellen". We started west again when I was two weeks old. My sister Charlotte was nine, brother John was seven, and brother Solomon was five. The weather was warm and the kids walked behind the wagon, picked flowers, ran races and acted like they were out on a picnic. (All these things were told to me at different times by those who knew.) In a few weeks we crossed the border into Kansas. It was May and June and you can not beat that time in Kansas anywhere. The grass covered the ground like a soft velvet carpet, and wild flowers, including wild climbing roses were blooming everywhere; the brilliant colors blending beautiful with the shifting shades of green. The tall cottonwood trees were bending and bowing in the most courtly manner, at the will of the Kansas breeze, they seemed to be extending a hearty welcome to the newcomers. The birds were flitting from limb to limb singing their hearts out for pure joy. So this was Kansas: a land made up of distance and space, a little shy and unfriendly in a way, as though we must prove our good intentions. Following the Kaw River, we passed the town of Lawrence, where signs of Qunatrill's raid was still in evidence. The burned walls and chimneys were still standing like sentinels over the terrible tragedy of death that had struck the dawn as the sun came up. In those days, you were either "fer" or "agin" slavery and no one needed to know more than friend or foe.