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One of the peculiar characteristics that mark some families is the love of family and family history, and to mention a link of relationship is like giving a hunting or bird dog a scent to follow. Such a characteristic was very present in my father, and in his father’s family. Of the three daughters, perhaps I am the only one to whom that trait was given to any degree. Since his death in 1916, nineteen years ago, I have had but little contact with the family and may have to some degree forgotten dates and data, but I am convinced that if my grandchildren and their children are to know anything of our earlier days, it is my privilege and duty to put it down before "the evil days come and I have no pleasure in them." Eccles.

I was the second daughter in our family, my father being Guy B. Chandler and mother Elizabeth Ann Smith Chandler. Father was one of the six children of Rodolphus Chandler and Lydia Hutchins Chandler. I think he was the fifth in number. I am quite certain the six children were Lewis, John, Milton,, Salena (Reed), Guv B, and Edward. Uncle Lewis who married Marv Glover moved to California where he reared his family in Chico, California. I visited them after Uncle Lewis' death in 1894 and enjoyed knowing them. Uncle John moved to Oklahoma, Uncle Miilton to Kahoka, Missouri. Aunt Salena lived one and one-half miles from Grandfather’s and Edward died while a young mans leaving two daughters,

Grandfather was born in Rutland, Vermont, In 1802, the son of a physician, William Chandler. The family moved from Rutland, Vermont to Ohio at an early date and settled near Zanesvilles, Ohio, and Chandlersville.

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There Grandfather and his brother Ero received their education, graduating in Marietta, Ohio and later went to Illinois to help settle a now country. Grandfather was quite skilled workman in leather, and well do we remember a very elaborate side saddle he made for our Aunt, Mother's sister, with much embossed work of grapes and leaves, etc., in soft colors around the apron of the saddle. He felt, however, that with so many strong boys he should buy a farm when that part of western Illinois was opened up, so bought a 160 acre farm of the Government at $6,00 per acres in Wythe Township, Hancock County, Illinois, We daughters still own this farm. There my father and Uncle Edward were born, father on September 16, 1842, in a log cabin out under an old cotton wood tree to which we little girls used to walk and indulge in imagining how it must have seemed to live in two rooms and to spin and weave as grandmother did. Grandfather was a student and a great readers and not much of a farmer, but from my earliest memory the whole relationship spoke of him as a man of most unusual and sincere qualities, much respected and loved. Grandmother was from Kentucky and an exceedingly hospitable person, and of great capabilities in the matter of home making, cooking, spinning and weaving. Often I have heard my mother say, "I sometimes was so ashamed when the minute Papa would enter Grandmother's house, he would say, 'Now Mother, I think I’m looking for a piece of pie'--as though he hadn't had any pie at home." When father was five or six years old, they built a substantial house out on the main road. It was a house of seven large rooms and an attic which we children loved to play in. The entire building was of hard wood, and the timbers hewn out of oak by hand. This was in 1846 or 1847.

Father was only twenty-one when he married my mother, Elizabeth Ann Smith, of Jeffersonville, Indiana, on March 9, 1864. Mother's father was from London, a gardener in the royal garden, Mother always said. He was killed while felling timber, was struck falling tree when mother was but a babe, and grandmother Smith who had been Susan Scott of Baltimore, born in 1800, reared her family of five children in the house he had built for her, a very fine brick house on a plank road out of Jeffersonville. I shall never forget the thrill I had in 1896 while in Y.M.C.A. work, happening to be near Jeffersonville, I took a day to visit this old homestead of Mother’s family. It was a "ovely brick house," indeed, still well preserved sitting up on a high spot of the farm and surrounded by a white picket fence. At the foot of the hill to the left of the house was a stone spring-house, where the butter and milk were kept. Many times had we heard the story of how a bucket was attached to a windlass and so drawn up the hill from the spring-house. As I drank from that spring I wished most sincerely that Mother, Auntie and Uncle John could have spent that happy day with me in Indiana. We walked through the beach wood to the little private cemetery where Grandfather and Grandmother Smith and several children were buried. We found a few of the older relatives still living--Rosella Wright and Elizabeth Lilly--both from England, aged but intelligent interesting women.

After their mother's death in 1856, during an epidemic of typhoid fever, Mother and her sister Eliza went to Illinois to live with their brother Will until he was married soon after, when they went to Uncle John's, an older brother’s home to live on a farm adjoining Uncle Will’s. Our Aunt Eliza had expected to marry a man by the name Ewers Moore who had gone to California. Auntie was still

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grieving deeply over his death when Father and Mother were planning their future home, so they urged her to come and live with them, which she did until her death in 1915 in Father's comfortable home at the age of 80 years. She was as distinctly of her Mother's type of southern hospitality, emotional and affectionate with dark eyes, as was Mother like her blonde English father, reserved and rather reticent.

After Father's and Mother's marriage they bought from Mother’s inheritance the team and equipment to start a home on a farm near Kahoka, Missouri. Father afterward bought the farm and they lived there until 1870 when they moved to Illinois to occupy the home with Grandfather. Luella, or Lulu, was the eldest child, born February 20, 1868* and I, Lunetta Standish, was born November 23, 1870.

Father inherited the same love for education as his father's family, so while yet in his teens rode horse back six miles to the Warsaw Seminary, night and morning, doing his full share of the home and farm works, sometimes more, in order that he might be permitted this privilege. After completing his studies he began to teach school and for twenty years taught school in the winter months and cared for his farm--doing his real farming of course in spring and summer. He must have been a successful teacher, for I remember how he visited teacher's institutes in summer and taught diagramming and parsing in grammar. He was always a member of the school Board of Directors and much interested in employing good teachers and caring for the school where we attended, the Excelsior District School-.a one room school with fifty or so pupils of all ages. It was our very special privilege to visit Father's school on the "last day" when apples and candy were passed and prizes given, for spelling particularly,

I remember well, though with a certain mystery attached, hearing Uncle Dr, and Grandfather speak of a pewter plate they wished to find with the name Sarah Standish inscribed, and its final discovery in the collar over a jar, and the name much marred. However, it established the connection of the Chandler family and Miles Standish, and so verified the claim the family had of their connection with the Mayflower--and explains the names of Miles Standish Hammond, Lunetta Standish Chandler, Eva Standish Matthews, etc. Sarah Standish of the Miles’ family had married a Chandler in New England, and many of the plain spoken but worthy traits of Miles Standish are found in the connection.

I do not at all remember my grandmother as she died the year that I was born--very suddenly. I have often heard the story. She had gone to her bad very weary, after a day of hard work, and as grandfather always said "must have had a nightmare," for when he arose before day he called her and upon having no response went to her to find her gone. It was a sad shock to all of the family and immediately word was sent to my father on a farm near Kahoka, Missouri, and he went to the funeral. In father’s diary, which I remember seeing while a tiny school child, I well remember the words, "I went alone to mother's funeral as Ann could not leave the youngest baby." I was that baby,

So very vivid are the memories of Father, Mother and Auntie to the three sisters of us, that it is difficult to realize that there is no picture in the minds of the younger folk of the family when they are mentioned. Grandfather and Uncle Dr. Chandler (Rodolphus and Ero) were rather short of stature and broad shouldered men, with kindly faces, blue eyes and gentle manners. Grandmother--

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Lydia Hutchins Chandler--was tall, a fine figure and rather an imposing personality with brown eyes so we are told. All of the six children were tall, the boys six feet tall, broad shouldered and strong looking men. Father, Uncle Lewis and Uncle Edward were of light complexion, all wore beards. Father’s features were rather rugged; he had high cheek bones and deep set but gentle blue eyes, a kindly smile, and a determined jaw which bespoke the strong character he possessed. He had a telling way of summing up a situation in a sentence or two of his own or an old proverb which stands out in the memory of all who knew him. He was not critical or unkind, but well do we remember when some littleness was exposed in some deal he would bite his lip for a moment then say "Well, I certainly like to see a man a man or a mouse or a long tailed rat." When he was trying to teach us the right and wrong of things he would always add "It's the principle of the thing we must always consider. Always look at it from that angle."

He had a swinging gait as he walked, with long strides, which was so distinctly his own that we always knew him at great distances and went running to walk home with him over the fields or down the road. Never will any of us forget the gentleness of his hands as he pushed back stray locks and patted our heads.

At the time of his death In 1916 a number of the older friends in speaking of him said "He was of the Abraham Lincoln type," and I suppose that may be truthfully be said of him. There was never a question of where he stood in matters of right and wrong, and his judgment was relied upon by all of the countryside. Mother was a quiet capable person, very fair in complexion, beautiful soft brown wavy hair which was never out of order. Her hair was only touched with gray when she left us, at eighty-six years of age. Dear little

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Auntie was one of the sweetest of personalities, with twinkling brown eyes and a kindly smile. They were both very tidy women both about themselves and their house, and duty was always well done.

Very soon after, Father, Mother and Auntie went over to live with Grandfather and keep house for him. On May 28, 1874, our sister Eva was born. I can barely remember this. I had occupied the cradle and can remember being moved to sleep after this with my sister Lulu in a trundle bed that was rolled under Auntie’s bed by day, in her upstairs bedroom. I can remember being shown this tiny baby in my cradle the next morning and being told she was a new baby sister.

Thus there is a faint but precious memory to the three sisters of us of a very kindly old grandfather who always took us with him as he drove "Betty and the buggy" about among the relatives and neighbors, for he handed over the farming entirely to Father and enjoyed the family, his books and his memories. He told us stories of early pioneers in Ohio, of his half brothers, Sechariah Morris, who became quite an educator and president of Marietta College, and of a son of his, Charles Chandler, who had married a Peabody and who was an attorney of no small fame, and of Uncle Jesse, another half brother who lived near us. Uncle Jesse was a man of education and refinement, but given to inventions and though an artist as a cabinet maker, always lost his money on patents. Grandfather’s own brother, Dr. Ero Chandler, lived only two or three miles from grandfather’s, was a man of unusual parts, a physician who went by horse back day and night for miles around caring for the sick and attending many through births and deaths. He had been a physician in Jacksonville, Illinois, and was one of the founders and trustees

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of Illinois Female Academy, where his daughters were educated. He gave the land later for the founding of Illinois College in Jacksonville, and was one of the trustees during its early years. His picture still hangs in the chapel or did hang there when I visited the school during my work in the Illinois College Y.W.C.A. in 1895 and 1896. This brother’s family we always called Uncle Dr.'s family, and we looked upon them as aristocratic relatives, but near. Grandfather and Uncle Dr. were devoted brothers and very congenial. Grandfather died in 1876, December 6. at 74 years of age, and Uncle Dr. a few years later. Our memories of them are early childhood memories and may or may not be entirely correct, but they seem very vivid. I was born in November 1870, so of course can not recall very vital facts. I can easily recall how he used to start over to Uncle Doctor's in his buggy driving Betty, and with all three of us, Lulu two years older than I and Eva three years younger, in the buggy. If the day was warm he would fall asleep and Betty would wander over to the roadside and graze. When we would call him, his awakening word always was "Aye! Aye! Grandfather must have gone to sleep, and sometimes he would add, "Oh well, Betty was hungry. Baby Eva was nearing two, and one day we all walked out to see the hay pressers press and load the hay. Grandfather carried or led Eva. Lulu and I walked. He placed the baby up on the baled hay while he went aside to talk. He was forgetful and talked too long. A cry was heard but no baby was in sight. We all came running and Grandfather sensed the fact that Eva had slid between the bales of hay and was some eight or ten feet down between many bales of hay. Again I well remember his "Aye! Aye!" and how he scrambled getting the men to move the hay. There we found the little white sunbonnet and baby Eva quite ready to be taken into his arms and carried home. Nobody was

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hurt, but Grandfather felt badly as though he had done some great wrong, His tender feelings were always easily stirred and many a time have I seen him weep over some scene of his book. Eva was a great pet in the family and we all remember how the family always watched with amused pleasure the everpresent little white bonnet which Eva placed in grandfather's hat so he could not get away without her,

I can remember hearing him tell father of the invasion of the Mormans upon that country, after they had settled in Nauvoo, and later heard my father tell of his memories of the night grandmother fled from them. They had been making raids of the countryside, and had coaxed several girls away from families near by, and had persuaded some men and women too, to join them, had stolen cattle and provisions until the men of the countryside were growing desperate. At about that time a man was secretly killed who had opposed them so the men gathered together to follow the Mormons and if necessary to drive them from the country. Joe Smith had been captured and put into the Carthage jail, a stone structure still standing. On such a night grandfather was out with this group of man trying to chase down these marauders, leaving grandmother and the six children at home alone. In the middle of the night Uncle Doctor came over on his horse, as it was feared the Mormons would visit grandfather's house that night, He took grandmother and the baby behind him on the horse and the older children walked. Father must have been a tiny boy, for he always said, "I didn't know much of what it was about, except the ripe wheat struck ray face as we crossed the wheat fields." The next a.m. when Uncle Doctor and grandmother went back, every cow and horse and all of the stock and bedding had been taken and they had to almost start anew. A few days later the

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company marched upon the jail and shot Joe Smith, and thus they were frightened into deserting Nauvoo and moving to Salt Lake. None of the company would ever tell who did the actual shooting, but Grandfather was present and knew who was the brave man. While studying for a short time in Carthage College in 1836, Lulu and I with others visited this building and were shown the bullet holes in the door and the stains of the blood of Joe Smith on the floor.

I believe it is now museum.

After Grandfather's death, December 6. 1876, we lived on in the house until about 1881. It was a comfortable, large old house, but needed repair and the question arose as to what was wise to do. In earlier days a second house had been built on the farm for Uncle Lewis to live in after his marriage to Mary Glover, but he only occupied it a short time before moving to California during the gold rush, after that Father had always rented the house and an adjoining barn lot to a Doctor, in order that a doctor should be kept near by. Dr, Harper lived there for years, then a Dr, Godden. After he left, about 1881, Father gave the family the choice of re- building and remodelling the doctor's house or repairing the old family house. The latter was the better building but the ceilings were low and the cellar very poorly built, so it was decided to re- build the other house. So in that way we moved from the old family house to a very comfortable home of eight rooms with higher ceilings, better conveniences and a very short distance from the church, and about one-third mile further east than Grandfather's house. They left many of Grandmother's things in the attic, I remember a new bonnet Grandmother had only just purchased and which we coveted for our periods of "dressing up" in long dresses but were never allowed

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to have. There was an old family Bible belonging to the Chandler family in which all of the s’s were f’s and there were many engravings, and the family births and deaths which we have wished for. Another regret was that Grandmother's carpet was left, and some old furniture. Expecting to move them sometime they were left to a later date, but were burned in a terrible fire which destroyed both the house and relics about a year and a half later on Thanksgiving Day, when the occupant built too big a fire and the flue set the attic afire. We were on the way home from one of our annual Thanksgiving family dinners, this time with Cousin Asaph and Henrietta Chandler Hammond, Uncle Dr's daughter, when suddenly we saw the flames leaping and smoke rising down the road toward our farm. It is not always easy to locate a fire at a mile's distance, so for a while in uncertainty, father drove furiously, then the fact was all too plain that it was the old home, and he stood as he drove and watched the flames. Father watched the oak fram standing in red embers at 10 o’clock that night with tears running down his cheeks and said, "Well, the old house is gone." It meant most of his life memories, his father, mother, brothers sisters and children, and I well remember how I slipped my hand into his big strong hand and stayed with him, touched by the tears.

About the last thing I remember of our life in the old home was the wonderful event of entertaining a bride and groom. Father's older sister, Salena,, had married Wallace Reed, a brother of Uncle Doctor's wife, a man of some education, but trying disposition, Aunt Salena had died after a few years, leaving four little girls and one boy, Dayton Reed, who was always very much attached to Father and a favorite of Father's too, and had practically lived with us. Father wanted him to have every chance he had enjoyed so had sent him for several years to Carthage Colleges, furnishing his room, paying his expenses, and taking him back and forth to Carthage College. Date, as we always knew him, loved Father and always copied him in every way. Father had taught school for twenty years and farmed in summer, so Date began and followed the same course for many years. He was much like Father, in many ways, so when he told us he had won a very lovely neighbor's daughter, Laura Fulton, and talked of the date of his marriage, he wanted it to be the same date as Father’s. But Wednesday was considered the beat wedding day of the week, so it had to be the 10th of March instead of Father's and Mother's date, March 9. They were married March 10, 18819 and came to our house to spend a night before going to their new home. It snowed all day and night, until all fences were covered, so they were completely storm-stayed, and after several days of pure enjoyment on the part of us youngsters, who adored our music teacher and organist of the church, the new bride, they managed to cross the fields and weave between snow drifts to their home a mile away. I well remember that this event was of such importance that a stove was lighted in almost every room of the house, and we sat in the parlor all of the time, where the large white porcelain very new kerosene lamp was lighted and sat upon Grandmother's little mahogany table (which is in my living room now.) The floor of that very lovely parlor was covered with the red and green ingrain carpet, mentioned before, "all wool", I've often heard mother says and bought by Grandmother shortly before she so suddenly left the family. Our little Auntie, mentioned before, Aunt.Eliza Ellen Smith, had made ruffled white curtains and crocheted many tidies for the rockers, and we had an organ and day lounges so we

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considered it a very lovely large room. Our home was always sweet and clean, we had the best of food and we were carefully reared. As we look back upon it, it is all a happy memory, though no doubt both Mama and Auntie worked hard and did not have much time away from home.

While we had small glass kerosene lamps about the house, I well remember that tallow candles in small brass candlesticks were always carried to the cellar or from room to room, and considered much safer. These Auntie moulded from tallow--beef fat--in forms with the wick suspended in the center of each candle.

Our family loved the church, and were usually in our places. Father came from New England stock, where the Chandlers had been Congregationalists, but in his young manhood he had been baptized and united with Baptist Church. While he never held with their emphasis upon immersion, or with their close communion, there was somewhere in his blood a resentment against ruling elders and long faces and though he joined our Wythe Presbyterian Church and was a staunch supporter he steadfastly refused to be either an elder or a deacon, but was a trustee most of his life and later the main promoter and chairman of the Building Comittee when they built a modern church there in 1899. Auntie was a Sabbath School teacher always and a devoted Christian, as were our parents, and our religious training was largely left to her. Father was the Secretary of the Sunday School all of my early childhood days and a close friend and partner of Mr. Robert Fulton who was the S.S, Supt, and a devoted church man. The Fultons were Presbyterians from early days in Pennsylvania and rather strict, and quite directed the current in that little church and its life. Father and Mr. Fulton were the best of friends, but Mr. Fulton always knew Father wasn’t a very ardent Presbyterian. Father would often quietly walk out when an infant was baptized as he said every person had a right to choose his own course in life, and he felt it was wrong to decide things for them. However, he always loved and supported the church and later loved his two Presbyterian Minister sons-in-law.

We moved in about 1882, into the remodelled house so near the church, but as our farm lay in the Excelsior School District, we remained in the school. There was no given age at which children night start to school in those days, so when Lulu who had started at six, in 1874, brought her reader, etc., home, I began as usual to copy her and learned to read from her reader. Lulu, of course, wanted me to go to school too, so in the spring of 1875, I started to school at four years and a half, reading the second reader--the days before we knew better than to allow such things to happen. I well remember the teacher whom we all worshipped, Miss Belle Connor, now Mrs, Worthen of Warsaw, Illinois.

Our distance from the school necessitated some plan to make the journey easier. We little girls had always used grandfather's Betty, rather aged but still fat and sleek, as our own private possession, so father built a shed for her in the school grounds and every day we drove fat sleek little Brown Betty to school, taking with us the needed ears of corn and bag of oats. She loved us girls and would let us crawl all over her, but woe betide any boy that came near. She sometimes chased them, threatening to bite them, until Lulu would intervene and then tie her again in the shed. She could untie knots and open doors very deftly, so was not always found in her proper place. We took with us the neighbor children, especially

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Angie Barkhurst, my special chum,, and her little brother John,

the Young children, and some others, so either the old buggy--then minus the top--or Betty's back (when we rode horseback) was always full of youngsters. Well do I remember (one day after a heavy rain) going up a very muddy hill of clay--and that road certainly was a mud road--Lulu sat in the rider’s seat with little Eva in front of her, and behind her sat two others and I, aged about ten, rode just above Betty's tail, hanging on as tightly as possible. As Betty pulled her feet in and out of the deep mud and climbed the hill she dropped her tail very flat against her body, and I slid down into the mud so deep that my rubbers came off, and I was in a plight. They rode on until they reached the Bliss stile a quarter of a mile away and waited until I trudged up to it. A stile stood in front of every farm, a cubicle shaped affair of about four foot dimensions with steps down on one side to mount or dismount either upon a horse or into a buggy or hack. This kind of vehicle was used very commonly--sort of spring wagon with two cushioned seats--not so good looking but about as comfortable as the later surrey.

Our Teachers at Excelsior were well chosen, and it was rather surprising how much we learned and what a solid foundation we acquired for future work. Particularly I recall the spelling been Friday afternoons and the mental arithmetic drills. These were most intricate sometimes, but we learned, if we possessed any mathematical acumen at all, to carry in our minds the conditions, give the analysis and reach the final answer. There is nothing taught in the present day system which to my mind in any way compares with it. There was a large school yard, with maple trees on one side and at noon or recess, we, both boys and girls, played ball or mumble-peg,

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black man, ante-over (over the schoolhouse) drop the handkerchief, or modelled many a snow man or had our faces washed by the rowdy boys. Often the snow was so deep that all of the hedge rows were covered over, and at such times we all had sleds and coasted and played on near by hills. We often walked over the hedge fences, over drifts of sleet covered snow. It was my special pride that for many years I won the book given to the pupil getting the most head marks in spelling during the year, However, though we all studied hard, I well remember some reproofs for mischief. One small boys named Joe Smith, German and homely, loved to bring me candy, pretty smudgy sometimes, and I didn’t like his attentions so made some pretty ugly faces at him. Up went a grim hand and the inquiry from the teacher "What is it, Joe?" received the choice bit of information, "Nettle Chandler, she's makin’ snoots at me."

Our cousin Emmeline Chandler (Uncle Dr.’s granddaughter) feared nothing and loved to make squeamish pupils squirm. She found a nest of field mice out in a bank, so gathered them all into her apron lap and brought them into school. I was really afraid of them, but valiantly invited others to come and see what Em had found, and watched the fun. We had many merry days, but a number of strong men and women came from that little school. This same cousin at another time gave us an elaborate description of a new silk dress her grandmother Shaw was making for her. After she had duly impressed us with its beauties, we of course asked the color. She answered "Oh, it’s a beautiful, shimmering, changeable, invisible green." She had us treed--as to which it was, a sell or whether she didn’t know what invisible meant. We never saw the dress!

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company. Being the teacher's pride I had been given a long and to me uninteresting peom, Thanatopsis, to learn and recite. I was much disgusted because my selection was not humorous as most of them were. So when the teacher announced my name with pride, I stuck to my acceptance of a dare, and went up and said,

"I saw a rat run up the wall.

I saw his tail and that was all."

The teacher looked surprised but knew I was proud, so quietly said, "Very good, let's hear it again," And again, six time, I never tried that stunt again, and father commended the teacher!

We carried our lunches, and Mother and Auntie always prepared lovely lunches for us, with cakes, sauces, fruit, etc., and as long as I live I'll never forget how often we handed over many of our delicacies to the Pohl children, who always had a small bucket of very smelly rye bread and white butter or lard for six of them. They were a good German family but very poor and undernourished.

We girls were never punished in school, but father always said that if we were ever paddled in school, we would have to have another when we got home. However, that never happened.

One thing I very especially recall was the privilege (upon good behavior) of going to Uncle Wallace Reeds, a quarter of a mile away from the school to get a bucket of water. The water bucket sat back on the dinner bucket shelf, and we were allowed to go and drink from a shiny tin pint cup, sometimes a dipper, if we raised our hands and asked the teacher.

As we went into our teens, father and a few others paid so much per capita in addition to the regular salary, in order to hire Miss Ina Elder, a college graduate and naturally gifted teacher.

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She taught us Latin and advanced algebra and some other special work preparatory for entrance to college, hearing our lessons in Latin after school or at the noon hour. As a consequence when I entered Knox College at 16 years of age, I was reading Caesar and was ready to go on with others of my age or older. This like many other advantages came to us because of Father’s forethought and insight.

We had many happy experiences and led a happy carefree life in the main, and while we did not have movies or shows or any of the modern means of entertainment we always had riding horses, a buggy and other vehicles and were never deprived the privilege of play. There was always a swing from the largest tree, and a hammock under the cherry tree in the front yard, a spot where many a book was read, many a visit enjoyed, or an afternoon spent with neighbors or friends chatting, ending up with lemonade, some frozen bit or a basket of fruit passed. From about this period, 1884 or ‘85 on, I don't remember of a summer ever passing without the ice house being full, and sometimes an extra or second house filled, with thick ice hauled from the Mississippi River, and from which many a freezer was enjoyed of ices and ice cream, always accompanied with Auntie’s good cookies or cakes. It meant much to the living, for a large refrigerator was purchased in an early day, and the milk, cream and butter were well cared for.

One of the pleasures we all look back top was the daily picking and arranging bouquets from Auntie’s beds of flowers--pansies, verbenas, nasturtiums, phlox, lilies, roses, etc.--Through all the years she never failed to have them and put into them much of her sincere love for beauty.

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visits at Uncle John's., Uncle John Smith was mother's and Auntie's elder brother and was not only a prosperous farmer, but a most genial gentleman who was well informed and possessed rare judgment on mooted questions, so like father was a counsellor to all the countryside. He and his very hospitable wife, Aunt Mary Hosford Smith lived, and remaining members still live, in a lovely big white house sitting far back in a lawn filled with wonderful elm trees, with some cedar, maple and fruit trees around the edge of the yard. Adjoining was a large orchard, having a row of walnut trees across the front of it, along the roadside. The house had a long hall running the length of it, with parlor, sitting room,, etc.., one one side and bedrooms on the other, and airy bedrooms above. How we loved and still love that place and every occupant of it.

They were always so warm in their welcome, Well do I remember how pleased I was on many a Sunday morning to hear the minister say, "And lastly," for I knew we would soon all be in the hack starting to Uncle John's for Sunday dinner. There were several children in that family--Newt, Truman, Walter, Charles, Viola, Ida and May-- and we loved them all. Ida and Charles were near Lulu’s age, and May near mine, so we all played together. We spent hours and sometimes almost days in their fine old orchard with spreading trees, playing house and store and swinging on the limbs of the trees. We all knew how to help in home tasks, but I do not believe any of us have any memory of forced labor or very many harsh or driving words. Aunt Mary, like mother and auntie, was kind and must have sensed our viewpoint, for we always were sure we were not in the way.

Only a few years ago, 1932, there was some scourge attacked the elm trees of that part of Illinois and all of the wonderful elm trees of that lawn were killed. It gave all of us a sense of

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irretrievable loss, but to the remaining members of the family it was a real blow. Uncle John had planted them there in 1861. May, the youngest daughters has so well express this loss, I am inserting her lines in this part of the story.

And weathered many a gale,

Till evening's slanting ray

Have coaxed the dusty traveler

To linger on his way.

With Hearts so full of fun;

And sport and games for the younger folk

When the day's work was done.

And view his work of love

From a little handful of switches

To the beautiful boughs above.

Of a toilsome but well spent life,

Of care and love for his children

And a true and trusted wife,

Sounds like the toll of a knell

And beauty and dreams are buried

With the trees and the tears that fell,

There is one chapter I've always tried to forget, for I was the offender. As I have said before, Uncle Will, another brother of mother's, lived on a farm adjoining Uncle John's. Uncle Will, back in 1861, in a sudden quarrel with his chosen girl, Betty Glover (who, by the way, was mother's closest girlhood friend in Ill.), went back to Indiana and married one Hester Schwartz, who, while a good hard working woman, and the mother of eleven children as the years went by, never seemed to us a part of the family. Her language was crude and her manners coarse and we children always recoiled from her. Mother always said we must go there as we did to Uncle John's and play with the children there of our age--Rose, Annie and Laura, and remember they were our cousins too. On this occasion Uncle Will, who was a sweet, kindly, gentle man, had taken all of us youngsters in a spring wagon out to the woods, and we had gathered wild grapes and wild plums and haws for jolly, etc. We had gone home after a

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long afternoon out in the woods and carried into the kitchen the baskets of fruit. Aunt Hester very sweetly said to me, "Take some grapes if you want them, Nettie," but when Annie, too, extended her hand for some, she was given a ringing cuff on the face with warning that these were for jell. Annie started to cry a little, and Aunt Hesluer added "You put on your old clothes and go milk." When Annie demurred a little Aunt Hester Spoke so sharply my poor soul was shocked. In all my thirteen years I had never seen anything of this nature, so unjust and cruel, so when Aunt Hester went out to the summer kitchen, a common possession in those days, I scooted to where my wraps and small bag were and went flying to Uncle John's for supper, and stayed. Of course, there were difficult explanations to be made, but I steadfastly refused to go back. The next day I well remember a somewhat shamefaced feeling when I saw Aunt Mary tying on her bonnet to go over the stile to Uncle Will's to appease Aunt Hester. Mother was a bit ashmed of me no doubt, and gave me no commendation for the outburst, but did not ask me ever to go back to stay over night and I didn't go back!

Father stopped teaching in winter around this time and began feeding carloads of cattle. He was a very successful stock man, and from this time made not only a good living but quite an income providing every comfort for us and our education by feeding and raising stock. Every fall he would mount "Fannie," a fine cattle horse as stock men would say, and go out into Iowa or Missouri buying stock cattle feeding them the grain raised on the farm. He kept a man at the house and a tenant in the old place, where a small house replaced Grandfather’s. In addition to this business and his farm he, in partnership with Mr. Robert Fulton, Mr. Turner and Mr. Barkhurst, formed an importing company, importing breeding horses

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from England and Normandy, to sell to stock men, who were raising fine horses. This continued for some years. Mr. Fulton and Mr. Turner made one trip to Europe buying these horses, and Mr. Barkhurst and Mr. Turner went once. Other than that, they dealt through someone in England. Father didn't want to cross the ocean so didn't go at any time. In later years he was associated with the stock yards of Chicago in several companies and was quite successful.

Childhood days developed into ambitions and hopes for the future. Father and Mother and Auntie all wanted us to have all that life could give and especially were anxious to give us the opportunity of education and training. They first sent Lulu to Carthage Colleges 12 miles away, where she graduated from the Academy in 1886, but instead of continuing her work there, they sent her to Knox College, in Galesburg, Illinois, where several others of the relatives and friends attended. She was a good student and possessed a good soprano voice and considerable ability on the piano or organ, so spent part of her time in the conservatory at Knox. Thus she did not take the full course of study, but began to teach in about 1887 or 1880 and continued until her marriage, December 29, 1891, to Perry A. Fulton, son of the Robert Fulton before mentioned. She went to live with him at the Fulton homestead a half mile east of home, they occupying one side of the large brick house and Mrs. Fulton and twin daughters, Harriet and Emma, on the other side. Mr. Fulton had met with an accident harvesting hay the summer before and had died from an internal injury almost instantly, leaving a great sense of loss in all the community, and Perry assumed the care of the farm.

and continued a year in the Academy and four in the College completing my work in 1892. Those were happy years. I roomed with a friend of Lulu’s, Effie Whiting, the first year, who was a senior, so had the privilege of rooming in Senior Hall. Effie was the niece of Mrs. Whiting, the dean of women. The building where we lived was then called Knox Seminary, housing one hundred girls. It is now called Whiting Hall in Mrs. Whiting's honor, but is still much the same building. From the first I was associated with a fine group of girls, particularly Margaret Maynard, my very closest friend, Olive Cox and Sophie Burt, all fine students and leaders in college life.

Knox at that time had between 500 and 600 students and a strong faculty. The one hundredth anniversary is being observed this year, 1937, and many alumni from all over the land are paying their tribute to her worth and to the ideals and traditions which have made her an outstanding college. Many customs have changed but we of the rare nineties still think Knox of the old days was a school worth much, and treasure the memories of those years. There was great interest then in things religious and certainly there was a sturdiness of character and devotion to high things and thoughts that I shall always be grateful for. Every Friday evening we had a joint Y.M.C.A. and Y.W.C.A. meeting in the Seminary Chapel, holding several hundred. It was always filled; and some of those meetings were very strong and left lasting impressions.

That meeting meant much to us for itself, but is linked in the memory of every student of those days with very happy evenings following--either with groups of boys, of girls, or with some prince charming from the Y.M.C.A.

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lectures, class parties, occasional theatres, church socials, etc., very little dancing and no cards were introduced., Margaret Maynard and I were both very active in the Y.W.C.A., so watched our step most ardently. We attended the morning prayer service--before chapel--and were students and later teachers of Bible Classes and leaders and officers in the student work; so of course we didn’t dance except in the gymnasium with other Hall girls. How I did love the waltz and schottish and wished I dared! But during all of these years I do not think we ever danced with men. Margaret and Frank Lay, and I with Ralph Larkin--afterward a Congregational missionary and a D.D. were a congenial quartette and had many happy double dates the first few years at Knox. They were all fine students and Ralph and Frank were Betas. Over and over again Margaret and I were invited to join PI BETA PHI. I suppose the reason they invited us more than once was they know I wanted to and thought Margaret would yield. She was very sure it was unnecessary to have sororities in a small college like Knox, where most of the students were congenial and while she was not disagreeable about it, I felt I could not jeopardize our friendship for any sorority, so did not join.

In our sophomore year Margaret decided to go to Cornell University to major in Latin and receive her degree from a larger institution. I missed her terribly but found a new friend in a new student of that year, Caroline Palmer, of Kewanee. She was a different type than Margaret, but a wonderful person, who has gone on with her studious habits, particularly of the Bible, and is now one of the foremost Bible teachers of the country and a Ph. D. having taught in the Biblical Seminary of New York for twenty-five years or more.

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and I holding our share of the class honors. There were fifty-five members. I had riajored in Latin and in all had nearly eight years of it, so accepted a position the day I graduated in the High School of Yorkville, Illinois--a small town of northern Illinois--as Latin and English teacher, where I tought from ‘92-94.,

Meanwhile, like many another girl in a coeducational school I had quite lost my heart to a promising and very handsome young man one year my senior but graduating two years later-1894, Edgar Hersrian Montgomery.

Father, Mother and Auntie had moved to Chicago in 1893, where Father was connected with both a cattle concern in the stock yards of Chicago, and also a horse company--where horses were bought, sold, or shipped.

So during my two years in Yorkville, Mr. Montgomery or "Ed" as we called him, would join me in Chicago for many week-ends, and those were happy times,

In 1893 the World's Fair was held in Chicago and as we were living in Englewood then, almost all of our relatives and friends were welcomed at our home during their visit to the Fair. It was to all of us a wonderful experience and rare opportunity. Ed was of course with us often.

He graduated in 1894, expecting to go as a missionary under the Presbyterian Church, but in his senior year at Knox, while I was teaching, had a long and very serious seige of typhoid fever, when his life hung by a thread. Daily messages came to me to be ready to go to Hersman--his home where he had been moved. When nearly all hope had fled the doctors decided to operates having discovered an abscess on the liver where the typhoid poisons had centered. He lived and has lived many useful years since, but because of the scar and scar tissue on the liver was not allowed to go to a foreign field. He entered Princeton Seminary in the Fall of 1894 and finished three years later; a fine student, a quiet leader, and to the girl waiting for him, an ideal in every possible way. He was the Chief of Benham Club, an exclusive eating club of Princeton Sem., and a popular member of his class.

Meanwhile, Eva, too had had three years at Knox, then, when the family had moved to Chicago, began the study of voice there. She had a beautiful voice and was a winsome little sister, whom Lulu (now Mrs. Perry Fulton) and I nearly worshipped.

In Chicago, she met in the Presbyterian church of Englewood, where we lived, William H. Matthews, an ambitious young man who had graduated in Lake Forest College and in Northwestern Law School. They both quite lost their hearts, and decided after a short acquaintance that they would be married, though Will, meanwhile, had decided to study for the ministry, so had three years of study ahead of him. He took the course in McCormick Seminary, spending part of each day as Secretary of James R. Walker, owner of the Tacoma Building, first tall building of Chicago, thus paying their way while he studied.

He graduated in McCormick and entered the ministry at Marengo, Illinois and has ever since been a man the family has been proud of.

Looking back on these wonderful growing years I will remember it was while I was at Knox that I first used a telephone. Our dean of women, Mrs. Whiting of Whiting Hall was very kind to me, and as president of the Y.W.C.A. I had extra duties, so she allowed me the use of her private phone. It was a strange sensation

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to hear the voice of Miss Jessie Holmes, teacher of history, whose voice was the first I ever heard over the telephone, midst much buzzing and noise (similar to the later static over the radio). This was in 1891, but it was not many vears after this that we had them in every farm home, in fact everywhere, for they came rapidly after being perfected.

During these years that Mr. Montgomery was studying, naturally I spent most of my summer vacations at home. Father's health had forced him to return from Chicago to the farm, where he again took up his interest in stock, buying, selling, feeding and shipping cattle by the car load.

It wsa a very lovely wedding, there being eight bridesmaids, Eva’s Knox friends, and ushers of Will’s Lake Forest and Chicago friends. The reception was in the home of Perry and Lulu (Fulton).

Perry had meanwhile left the farm and entered the grocery business in Englewood, 69^th St.. Father, Mother and Auntie came up for the wedding and well do I remember Papa saying as we walked home from the wedding rehearsal at the church, "Times are moving too fast these days, I’m glad my life has been spent when people didn’t rush so". Yet it was years before the days of the autos or motor industry.

Just as I was about to return to Sacramento Association work, the State Committee of the Illinois Y.W.C.A sent for me and asked me to take the position of State Secretary of the Illinois Y.W.C.A. I was delighted with this work, for there were twenty-nine college and five city associations in the state at that time, 1895-1896.

Much of my time was spent in organizing the work of the college associations, instructing and guiding committee work and directing Bible courses.

At that time the Bible Study of the colleges was in the charge of

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the Y.M.C.A. and Y.W.C.A. work so the planning of courses of study was a delightful but difficult task. I made it a rule to visit each of the Associations twice a year at least. This with other conferences kept me travelling quite a portion of the school year, and sometimes proved very wearing. When at headquarters in Chicago I lived with Lulu, and my office was on the eighth floor of the Y.M.C.A. on LaSalle St. It was still in the days when it was decidedly Christian Association work, and before it was known as Y.M. and Y.Dub. work, praise be!

I spent part of the summers at Lake Geneva, Wis. at conferences and study but a large part of it at the farm where Father, Mother and Auntie still presided, and received, not only us girls, but our friends. Between the time at home and down at, the Montgomery home vacations would soon slip by.

Two years were spent in the Illinois work and many delightful contacts made. Caroline Palmer of Knox days was the General Secretary of the Peoria Association, so we saw much of each other, and very often I met college friends or classmates on school staffs or faculties,

When Mr. Montgomery’s work was finished in Princeton the question arose as to our first field of effort. He was asked to act as Assistant Pastor In Buffalo, but the faculty advised taking a small individual church. So after much debate he accepted a call to the little church at Bardolph, Illinois, beginning September 1, 1897. So our wedding day was set for August 4.

Lulu and Perry had moved back to the farm and were at Father’s farm at the time. Robert, their second son was but a tiny baby, born March 15, 1897, and Guy Chandler Fulton their eldest was

nearing five years. He was as attractive a child as one often seen, and my boon companion. I remember one day when he said most ardently "Oh. Aunt Nettie I love you as big as this house." but in a second later, 'but I love Mama clear across the railroad tracks." He is now ass’t State Architect of Florida.

The weather previous to August 4 had been hot and the roads terribly dusty. The many trips to a dressmaker in Keokuk and Ed's frequent 55 miles from Hersman were through heat and dust almost unendurable, but the night before the wedding a terrific storm and heavy rain came, so the wedding day was cool, bright and lovely. The storm had taken the old cherry tree with its memories, and the family remarked often during the day as it was dragged away and the lawn cleared, of the part the old cherry tree, the hammocks, lawn chairs, etc, had contributed to our pleasures, and even courtships. However we were able to make everybody comfortable and the air was almost too cool to enjoy the lawn. Twelve ofthe Hersman relatives came for the wedding.

Looking over the Guest Book of that date, not long since, revealed the fact that but few of the seventy-five guests remain of all those dear people. Nettie Montgomery acted as bridesmaid and Charles Montgomery as best man. One funny bit still clings to our memories, The pastor of the little Wythe church, Mr. Ormsby, was a dear old man, refined and cultured, but nervous as could be because he was marrying a young parson, and to add to his dilemma we had asked for part of the Episcopal ceremony. He did it all beautifully until he got to the prayer, and he read straight on, head erect, and with no change of voice. Then he saw what had happened, and after he had read "Amen". he said, "Let us pray!" and used his own prayer. He certainly was much disturbed and Mrs. Ormsby was quite

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shocked.

I had left my paino in Chicago with Eva, now Mrs. Matthews, so Eva, Harriet and Emma Fulton, the Fulton twin sisters, most beautifully sane 'Lift Thine Eyes" from Elijah, as we entered the living room and approached the smilox draped altar. It was a pretty wedding and to this day many remembrances of that day remain with us in the form of wedding gifts, china and silver.

After two weeks at Perry Springs, near Quincy, Illinois, a beautiful spot then but closed now, we went to Hersman to be received by the Hersman friends and relatives. Mr. Fulton was still the pastor and we were welcomed at a reception quite elaborately prepared for by the Montgomery family.

Hersman was a small spot, mainly of relatives, as Mother Montgomery had been a Hersman, and nearly all of the residents were in some way members of the Hersman family. But there were many choice souls there, and many people of education and refinement. They were all well to do with lovely homes. Times have changed, most of them have gone and those that remain are deprived and poor, making one wonder whether the civilization of today is so advanced over the life of forty years ago. Out of this little spot of a few hundred inhabitants has gone several missionaries, Ella Hersman McGaw to India, Nettie Montgomery Lerrigo to China, John Pressley, Home Missionary; my husband and L.B. Crane into the ministry and later Morrison Means. A librarian Elizabeth Curry, whose mother was a Hersman, Frank and Glen Hersman as research men in Agricultural college and Y.M.C.A. work and many others while today not any are even trying to enter college or do any very progressive work. Whizzing through such spots in high powered motor cars, and looking upon the desolation of unpainted houses and a closed church will really

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not do as much for the old world, as did the thinking quiet men of some decades ago.

Well do I remember a summer picnic of Wythe young people at this period at home, when there were thirty seven present. College yells and anecdotes began after the supper, and we discovered that all of the thirty seven had been away to school, and represented thirteen colleges.

But to return to the narrative: We made our first entrance into ministerial effort in the before-mentioned small town, Bardolph. The Princeton faculty had advised a small church, and Presbytery had

the idea that every young minister should serve an apprenticeship in some smalll Home Mission church, so Bardolph was out lot. It was unlike any place in which we had either of us ever- lived., and had we not had some sense of humor as well as devotion to the cause I think we should have succumbed. Never will we forget our first night there, entertained by a long faced elder and his very pious wife. Their little home was a living room with a tiny bedroom adjoining, a kitchen with another tiny bedroom attached, then up a steep stairway we ascended to what we have always called "our chimney corner bedroom." The bed had feather mattresses piled highs which gave us convulsive giggles, and after we had blown out the tiny lamp Ed threw me into the middle of the feather bed, then climbed a chair and hopped in.

The hostess was so dreadfully pious we feared she would think we were desecrating the place with our giggles, but we managed to survive and keep our reputations. We had a new buggy and a lovely sorrel driving horses and many a time "Dot" and the buggy saved the day. I remember one time we went to call on an old member of the church, whom most people called Sister Green. Ed say by her and listened to her tale of self pity, and really talked beautifully to her and prayed with her. After we had gone out to the buggy I said, "Now where?" knowing we were out for an afternoon of calls. He said "Oh my! Do you really think we can do any more today?" The day was perfect October weather, so we went as fast as Dot wanted to go to the remotest member's house out into the country. However as time went on we very much interested in their small, walled in lives, and I found a S.S. class and Kings Daughters Circle of young women a fine group to work in. Luckily our home was new, very nice, well furnished, and we had much pleasure entertaining in it.

That winter after a series of meetings Ed received between fifty and sixty members into the church. We organized the young people and were doing quite a successful job of it when Ed was taken sick, and the doctor prescribed a year or so in Colorado in the mountains. We left them in tears and waving goodbye from their porches as we drove out of the little town, to leave Dot and the buggy in Hersman (55 miles away) while we spent the year in Colorado. Our furniture was stored, crated, in the parsonage. We left for Colorado Springs and Manitou in May, and were there in Green Mt. Falls until November 1.

There was hardly a canyon or pass, or a peak either in that region near Colorado Springs we did not explore, almost always carrying our noon lunch with us as we climbed. In November Ed was asked to take the Glenwood Springs church, across to the western side of the Rockies. We had a happy winter there, and Ed was quite successful with the men of the town. We might have stayed longer, for the baths in the Hot Springs, or cave baths they were called then,

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were doing him a lot of good, but the doctor ordered me down to a lower altitude, as from October I had known our first baby would be with us during the months to come. I went home in March, leaving Ed in Glenwood Springs for at least some months, but in April he came on to Illinois too homesick to stay alone so far from home. John Richard was born July 2, 1899, and as soon as I was able to go we accepted the Scotch church near Macomb, Illinois, known as Camp Creek, where we stayed three years. Almost every older man or woman of the church was from Scotland, some Highlanders, some Lowlanders, some read their Bibles in Gaelic; but they were an interesting, thrifty, well to do congregation of Scotch farmers, about two hundred of them, and devoted to their church and its life.

Richard was quite the pet of the congregation and a sweet very quiet little follow, very affectionate, and when things pleased him his blue eyes would shine as though lights were turned on.

Chandler came to us September 15 1901, and we gave him the two family names Chandler Hersman. He was a strong healthy little fellow with gray eyes, almost hazel, and almost too good to be true. Days passed without a cry from him, but much crowing and chatter. We had a happy three years there, many growths in the church, and Ed was much stronger. We had disposed of Dot and had bought a matched team of beautiful brown driving horses, Bob and Ned, and they were known and admired all over the country side, for they certainly were kept shining.

Our families visited us often while there and were loathe to have us accept a call to Warsaw, Indiana which came in 1902. But Ed felt he should get beyond the sound of his own voice, and Winona was just outside of Warsaw, a chatauqua of some renown and having much

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of the best talent of the U.S. there each year. We were in Warsaw seven happy years. It was a lovely congregation of choice people, many talented people, social leaders, and devoted church men. When Richard was nearing five and Chandler two and a half years old, little Margaret came to us, March 4, 1904. She was a tiny little thing, and we thought was going, to have dark eyes and hairs but she soon showed her eyes to be a violet blue and she became quite the pet of the family circle.

She was named Margaret for my friend and roommate of college days., Margaret Maynard, and Elizabeth was used as her middle name from Mama’s name.

I had always gone back to Dr. Pease of Hamilton, Illinois whom we trusted and loved, when the babies were born. Richard was born at the farm, Chandler at Lulu’s when they were living in Hamilton, Ill., and Margaret at Dr. Pease's home in Hamilton. Mrs. Pease was also a physician, and we had a competent nurse. This was just at the time that Father's new house was built, 1904, which is a very unusual farm home.

(picture of Father's house)

I am enclosing a snapshot of it, but in our memories will always remain Father’s pride in the inside woodwork of quarter sawed oak. He took us over the building showing us particularly beautifully grained portions and rubbed it with his hands. It was stained brown burnished and finished with wax as smooth as glass, really a wonderful piece of work for a farm home… as beautiful as any I have ever seen.

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Our hands were of course very full with these three little people. For the first five years of the time we lived in an eight room cottage - one floor - with a large bath room almost in the middle of it. The rooms were large and airy, and a long-porch of thirty feet with heavy columns across the front, so was an ideal place for those particular years. It was painted white and had a lovely lawn and flower garden back of the house so we have always called it "The White House." It was the scene of many precious memories.

There was a barn in the rear where stood our surrey and Joe Patchen, the beautiful black horse we all loved; and later another stately horse with a star in his forehead, so called "Star." Almost daily when Ed came in from calling we would take long rides into the country, often taking with us some friends and a well filled basket for picnic supper.

While Margaret was still quite tiny the young people's work which had worried us from the time we went there because of its antiquated methods, was reorganized into a Sunday Evening Bible Class and I was asked to take charge of it. As we had with us much of the time a young nurse girl whom we could trust - Ethel Tevis - I finally consented to do it. It was a real joy, and for six years we had a delightful Sunday Evening hour with these lovely young people, now the middle-aged people of the church and still dear friends.

It was about this time that Chandler came to me - then 2 1/2 years old - with a drawing which he called "tweet, tweet." It was easily recognizable as a bird. This was the beginning of his love for drawing and modelling--still with him.

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We were just two very short blocks from the church, but Richard took full responsibility of taking the younger ones to Sunday School after Margaret had reached three years of age. We often recall a characteristic remark of Mr. Frank Conrad, at that time principal of Ward-Belmont school of Music, as he watched Richard taking full charge of Chandler and Margaret and taking them home, he said "We can always depend upon the dignity of Richard, Joe Patchen and Dr. Montgomery. I'm not so sure about the rest of the family!" Of course Ethel met them around the corner and assisted while I got to church.

The entire membership of that church - of 600 members - were dear friends, but very especially do we recall the Chipman family, and Mr. And Mrs. Frank Hetrick, "Krank and Aunt Rose" - so called because of Margaret's inability to pronounce the F, so called Mr. H, "Krank". They were so kind to all of us - and quite claimed Margaret as their baby - that we felt quite like one family. They always enjoyed the Christmas tree with us, celebrated anniversaries together and went on many a picnic to the many lakes around Warsaw.

In the fourth year of our life there, Mr. M. with Uncle Will Matthews, Dr. Luccook and several other friends decided to go to Palestine to further their knowledge of Bible lands. It was only brewing in our minds when Papa talked with the sons-in-law, and advised them to go while they were young, and gave them each substantial help with the expenses, as he had done the same for Perry and Lulu in other projects of theirs. He and Mother also urged Eva and me to bring our children to the old home while Will and Ed were gone. So Eva with their six little ones and I with our

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three went home and lived with Papa, Mama and Auntie while the men went to Palestine, Lulu and Perry were living in Keokuk and often brought their three boys and joined us for the week end, or at least Sunday. I often wonder how Mother and Auntie kept their serenity with so many about, but do not remember any but very happy times.

After the three months of their stay had passed they came home from their long wanderings thrilled with all they had seen, with new understanding of their study of the Bible and ready to enter into their work with new zest. The children and I went home early to open the house and get ready for Daddy’s home-coming. He came in early one May morning, and we were all thrilled to see him, then he unpacked the Bethlehem doll for Margaret, the shepherd pipes from Jerusalem and the Turkish fezes for the boys and the bridal rug from the Labanon mountains which he had bought in Jerusalem and many other gifts we felt we had been touched by some magic wand that had given us now eyes. We were all so very happy for just about a month, then June 1, little Margarat fell several times without apparent reason, and when we asked "Why'? she answered in her own little way 'I can't go up a ‘tep," The Dr. assured us it wan only a cold settled in her knees. But she grew steadily worse until June 5 after a terrible night of acute suffering, when I kept cold cloths on her head and Ed kept heated cloths or hot water on her feet we called the Dr. at four A.M. and he advised us to get her to a hospital.

We took her to Fort Wayne on a pillow, Mrs. Hetrick accompanying us, and the boys were left with Mrs. Dr. Schoonover,, across the street, and we went to Dr. Drayer a child specialist. He pronounced it Acute Infantile Paralysis at once and advised her going to the Hope Hospital immediately and I was to go and stay with her.

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While Mr. M. and Aunt Rose (Mrs. Hetrick) took her to the hospital I went to the store for necessary night clothes and tooth brush so as to stay and hurried to the hospital, where we were for three weeks that we will never forget. She was in acute pain, almost like menengitis, but her body from the shoulders down was perfectly helpless. Dr. Drayer came twice a day and did everything then known to medical science to overcome it but not until the fifth day June 11, 1907 did we see the slightest reaction. That A.M. Dr. came in with his usual happy way said "Well, little Margaret, how high can you kick this A.M.?" Then to get her into the game he added, "Can you kick this high?" and flung his foot nearly as high as his head. She laughed and we could see from her face she was trying when we saw a tiny movement of the left foot. He shouted "Fine, Margaret, now once more, and again the little left foot moved about a half inch, and his pleased answer was "Thank God, the wires are not all down!" I had kept up bravely until I realized how completely down he had feared they were, and I confess I quite broke for a few minutes. From that day a slight movement was seen daily, and on June 16 a tiny movement of the right foot, and by the time the three weeks were up she could move them on the bed six or eight inches.

Her room was filled with flowers and every night I cared for them. One huge bouquet of carnations from Mr. Hetrick had to be brought to her bed, each flower named for some member of the family or friend at home, kissed "good night."

One of the later days of the three weeks the nurse put her in a rolling chair and I took her out on a balcony for some out door air and sun. She wanted to be raised up so I moved the chair back to a vertical position, and she fainted, frightening us all terribly.

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However we found she was improving so I took her home at the end of the three weeks almost free from pain and improving daily.

The boys, Richard 8 and Chandler 6, were so glad to have us home and in every way cooperated and understood how much depended upon their quiet play out of doors. We secured a young girl to do the house work and I spent most of my time giving margaret the three hot packs a day required, and the alcohol bath, following with a gentle massage and soothing stories and songs. I had a horror of her becoming a petulant spoiled child, so while still at the hospital used the plan of naming her bad self that might cry or whine Susanna, my little girl was Margaret. So when the nurse was putting the five long bottles of boiling water wrapped in flannel up and down each leg and her back I would stay near by telling her long stories. On one such day when the little nerves were almost to break out she called out "Open the window, Mamas I’ll 'frow Susana clear out," then added "Did she fall on the pavement and break her all up?" Of course I hastened to assure her she was gone and closed the door so she couldn’t come back up to the third floor. It saved to us a marvelously poised little girl that has always risen to the occasion and used her power to overcome the things which might have held her back, The months passed and it was nearly a year before she could walk and a full year before she began to skip again or go up the steps easily. The one story White House was our salvation for there were few steps to climb. There are many priceless memories of those years, but I must not become garrulous.

The friends were many and faithful, particularly Mr. and Mrs. Hetrick, Martha Ripple who was Aunt Mattie, Walter Chipman, dear Mrs. Widaman, one of the most beautiful women we have ever known both in face and character, and possessing a rarely trained soprano voice. She was a woman of wealth and privileges but she gave her voice to the church for 24 years, even furnishing her own music. We had an unusual quartette in Mrs. Widaman, Mrs. Hetrick, Walter Chipman., and Mr. Hetrick, and Martha Ripple was pipe organist,

Seven years rolled by. We had with us for many long periods Uncle Charles Montgomery and one summer the younger brother John Leslie Montgomery. Uncle Charles afterward married one of our young women of the church, Lora Dickey, and Uncle Leslie married a young woman from Goshen, Frances Stotver.

I have hardly mentioned Winona Assambly which opened each June and continued with fine programs through the entire summer. They had such talent as Schuman Heinck, Dr. Hillis, Creatore's band, Dr. Chapman, etc., and it was a privilege to live within five minutes ride of it, as it was just outside of Warsaw.

At the end of the seven years an invitation came for Ed to preach in the First Pres. Church of Aurora, and after visiting there in August a call was extended to him which we felt it our duty and privilege to accept. So in September 1909 we left Warsaw nearly leaving our hearts behind us to move to this larger and more active field. Aurora was a thriving growing towns around 450,000 population (now 660,000) and the church a very active church with many lines of work.

The children were six, eight and ten years old, so were soon adjusted in schools and making new friends.

Our life in Aurora was different in many ways, as the city was larger, distances greater, and there were constant changes both in the membership of the church and in the change of schools with change of grades. We still drove "Star" to a surrey, though before we had left Warsaw a few venturesome people were chugging about in

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autos. They were noisy things, conversation was out of the question, and women wore special auto bonnets with large auto scarves or veils to keep their hair from blowing away entirely.

Some of these looked like horseless buggies, some were large and ungainly. We finally decided to have one in about 1913 or 1914, for by this time they seemed very secure and silent (?) with doors securely fastened and many new additions. Our first one was a Buick, and it was a thrilling experience to have a car all of our own.

One thing we especially liked were the trips down to the home farm and to Hersman by auto, for as yet the family circles were unbroken and we usually spent our summer vacations between the two homes. Thus the links between the children and the grandparents and other cousins were kept very close. Grandfather Montgomery had been in very poor health, for some time, so had retired from business. The memory of his sitting in a large canvas chair out under the lovely big maples of their lawn will always remain with us.

Papa had turned the farming over to Perry who was living at the farm at that time and was usually out on the rotunda of the porch ready to visit with us whenever we could be out there; and many a night we all sat out there in the cool evening air until very late, a happy memory.

A few years after going to Aurora we built a cottage up on Lake Michigan and spent much of each summer up there. Father Montgomery passed away in September 1913, and this cottage was built the following spring, when Mother Montgomery came up and spent the summer with us. She spent part of each year with us after this time until her death in June 1919, and loved the place as we all did. It was a rustic but roomy cottage on the South shore of Little Point Sable, where about five other families owned cottages who were most congenial friends; The Boyntons, Dr, Boynton being a Baptist pastor in Chicago, University District, The Cheney's. Dr. Cheney being a well known physician in the same part of Chicago, The Levin sisters, teachers in Chicago, Dr. Goodes of the University of Chicago, the Sissons later, also school people and ourselves. We owned that cottage and loved it until 1927. It was on the shore, sitting high above the wide shore line, and about seventy feet back from the beach, though our lot ran back 500 feet to the lovely glen which the children loved to roam in and was a spot of beauty and heavy with pine odors.

(picture of cottage)

There were children in each cottage, all good friends and playmates and we all went up to the cottage as soon as school was out and we had made a visit down at Grandfather’s and in Hersman, for Mother M. had broken up her home, and went to the lake with us.

We all remember with pain the terrible storm of July 15, 1916, when Harold Cheney and our boys were sleeping in a tent under our fine oak tree. It was their first venture of the kind, and with great glee they went out to the tent with its three cots. A terrific crash of lightning came, which split the tree and ran through the tent, nearly paralizing our boys, but it passed through Harold's body taking his life instantly. Chandler came in to tell me that something was the matter, limping on one foot. The sad truth was all too true. Harold was gone. Dr. and Mrs. Cheney were remarkably strong and fine, but the entire camp was under a cloud of sorrow that we could never quite dispel. This was in 1916 - those war-torn years when the way was hard to see far ahead, but the years nevertheless

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went on writing their lines. Richard graduated from the East Aurora High School in 1917 after being chosen by the faculty to act as the editor of the High School Annual-the Speculum- with Chandler as Art Editor, who now was a sophomore. After graduation Richard entered Knox, but after the nineteen year old draft when boys must either enter the Student Army Training Corp in some school or enter a nineteen year old camp, and the Knox Corps being full, he entered Wooster S.A.T.C. where he was until after the Armistice was signed--November 11, 1913--and until the close of that Semester. After that he transferred to Ohio State as we had meanwhile moved to Piquas Ohio, May 1918, and Chandler having graduated in Aurora had entered Ohio State in Sept, 1918. Richard majored in Commerce and Chandler in English, both doing much to meet their expenses as they went. Chandler taught some classes in art after his sophomore year, thus earning $500 a year, besides acting as advertising agent for a college restaurant while Richard was bookkeeper in the same place. Richard took special accounting work in DePaul University - later in Chicago, earning his way largely as a Junior Accountant in the Ashman and Reedy Accounting firm. Later he passed the State examination as a certified Public Accountant while only twenty-two, one of the youngest men with that degree in Illinois.

Chandler graduated at Ohio States, then went to live and work with Lorado Taft in Chicago, going out with him on many of his lecture tour, and enjoying greatly his very genial personality as well as his talent.

We had left the Aurora church after ten happy years there and moved to Piqua,.Ohio, where again we passed ten years in the field. The boys' lives were never very closely associated with Piqua, but Margaret graduated from the High School there in 1921, holding the

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first honors of a large class. She went from there to Northwestern where she graduated in 1925. She taught Latin and English in Piqua for two years, going abroad for a delightful summer after the first year.

In 1927 the dream of my life was realized in a trip to Palestine, Egypt, Europe and England with Ed. He had had that privilege in 1907, and had talked much of our going together. Ten friends went with us, among them Cousin Clara Reed, the rest being from the church. We had a marvelous three months, particularly in Egypt and Palestine.

It has meant much to the Bible Study of these later years, and is a happy memory.

Meanwhile changes had come to the homes we loved in Illinois. Auntie was the first to leave us. After some months of lingering she passed away in August 1915, and was laid in the new family lot in Hamilton, Illinois.

Almost exactly one year later Father went away. I shall always cherish the memory of a word that day that came unsought but from the heart. A very large company stood about after the commital service at the cemetery and a prosperous looking kindly man whom I had never seen approached me, saying, "Is this one of Mr. Chandler’s daughters?" then added "You do not know me but I am from Iowa and have known Mr. Chandler for a quarter of a century in a business way. I suppose he has bought cattle of me every year for near thirty years. I want to say I've known many men, but Mr. Guy Chandler was the very best, most genuine man I ever knew. When I heard he was gone I felt I must come to this service."

After this Lulu and Perry were with Mother on the farm. She lived until Jan. 1925, and died after many years of weakness at the ripe age of eighty-six, her hair only tinged with gray. Lulu and

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Perry decided to rent out the farm home so purchased an attractive bungalow in Warsaw, Ill., in which they lived until recently.

So closed the busy happy years of childhood, youth and middle age with its precious memories and influences. Woven through the years and associations in this home there was a sturdiness of character which will ever stay with us which means more than any material success which came to this precious trio. May we be worthy!

While these things were happening in the Wythe home Mother Montgomery had vacated the old home in Hersman and divided the time between the children spending about six months of each year with us. She came to us after we had moved to Piqua, Ohio the summer of 1918 and seemed in about her usual health. From Tom's home in Hersman she left us after a short illness in June 1919 at the age of 74 years.

During the later years at Piqua, Ed had had as his secretary and helper Miss Desire Dickson whom Richard had known at Knox as a Y.W.C.A. officer and generally interested in young people's organizations and interests. She was a joy to have in the church, and made her home at the parsonage with us.

Richard's interest in her very shortly greatly deepened and they were married December 28, 1923 at the home of her father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dickson, in Sandwich, Illinois. Chandler's marriage to Elizabeth Trump, known as "Betsy", a social worker, came nearly three years later. October 6, 1925, the last year we were in Piqua. Both boys settled in Chicago and have been very happy in their homes, and with their sons. John Richard (Junior) was born to Richard and Desire Feb. 2, 1924 and Robert Dickson Nov. 24, 1927. In Chandler's home came Stephen Chandler July 10, 1929, and Christopher Trump, March 29, 1931.

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In January, 1928 the request came from the Board of the Ohio Presbyterian Home for the Aged in which Ed had been greatly interested and active, for him to give full time to that cause, first in a financial campaign then later as General Manager and Secretary. Deciding to accept this call we resigned from the Piqua church after ten years of service there, which meant another of those hard breaking-of-ties which comes to the minister’s family. The church had grown in every way. He had been successful in building a very fine Sabbath School Building, costing $100,000, fully pledged for, and the membership roll had increased to over thirteen hundred. For four years following this undertaking in the Home field we lived at Orrmont, which at that time was owned by the Board but not being used as a home. It was a beautiful spot, and is loved by every member of the family. It was large, artistically planned and beautifully landscaped, with a farm of 240 acres of fertile land back of it. We regretted the decision to sell it which was made after our four years there, the Board feeling it was too much to carry in addition to the Home built by the Synod near Sidney.

The last event of vital importance attached to the family memory of Orrmont was Margaret's wedding, December 30, 1930, the groom Ralph Eugene Fulton being the son of an old friend Rev. Edgar Fulton, son of Robert Fulton of years past. It was a lovely wedding, and the nearly two hundred guests present were mainly from the Piqua congregation, so it is a doubly delightful memory. They settled at once in New Haven, Conn., and have since lived in Cleveland and Boston, both positions being promotions in the same company#,The U.S. Rubber Co. On April 19, 1934 little Chandler Montgomery Fulton came to them, our fifth grandson, and a boy to be proud of bearing in his wide awake personality the marks of all the three

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families, Chandler, Montgomery. and Fulton, a rare combination.

Since moving to Sidney from Orrmont we have purchased our own

home in Bon Air which we greatly enjoy, and Ed is still, 1938, acting as Manager of the Ohio Presbyterian Homes for the Aged, having done a splendid work on it. When he assumed the position, it was in debt about $73,000, and the Home was out in almost open country, three and one half miles from Sidney. Now the debt is paid and the grounds are landscaped, four acres of garden are well tended, and fifty old people are cared for.

Thus time passes on, writing its lines. It is a joy to feel that the splendid purposes of Father, Mother and Auntie are being lived out in all of the family, the three daughters, and their husbands, twelve grandchildren, twenty-one great-grandchildren, all living and doing well.

The faith in God that guided and kept strong the deep currents and purposes of their lives are still guiding in the present day, and no prayer is more sincerely voiced than that we all may continue to be so guided.