CHAPTER XXVI.

Mr. A. G. Phillips was a friend of Judge J.A.L. Crookham, who came and located in Oskaloosa away back in the forties. Mr. Phillips had been a pupil in a school taught by Mr. Crookham's father in Southern Ohio in the early part of this century. The elder Crookham was said to be the most learned man in all that region. I have heard it said that he would have been called a great scholar anywhere. There were some superior families living in Southern Ohio, even in that early time, who were ambitious to have their sons instructed in the higher branches of learning. Many a bright boy who in manhood became famous, was for his start on the road to fame indebted to instruction received at the feet of that modern "Aristotle of the Wilderness." That learned man was father of a numerous family, all possessing more than ordinary ability. J. A. L. Crookham is a lawyer, and had been a citizen of Oskaloosa, only a short time when be was elected county judge. He is now re- tired on account of the infirmities of age, but was a suecessful attorney at law for nearly a half century. He like nearly all the Crookhams, is a financier, has accumulated a considerable fortune, and has always been a prominent factor in the business affairs and politics of the town and county.

Judge Crookham is a man of noble impulses, and always has a kind word to say of everybody. Many young men have read law in his office and received instruction in the same from him, my son Orlando among the rest. Judge Crookham has an individuality, and has always been called eccentric, but his eccentricities are not of the kind that hurt people. He is honorable, just and charitable. Judge Crookham has been twice married, has three sons and two daughters. The scholarly propensities of their illustrious grandfather seem to have descended to the third generation. Elizabeth Euclid, and Sara, the daughters, are among the most learned of Oskaloosa's brilliant daughters; both, after receiving a good education in our schools, graduated from Holyoke. Elizabeth Euclid has taught for years in the schools of Portland, Oregon, has traveled much and been twice in Europe. Both are practical women as well as learned. Sara, too, has taught abroad, but, came home to assist her mother in nursing her invalid father, and not long ago was married to Mr. Rufus Davis, one of Oskaloosa's very best young men. Mr. Davis is clerk of Mahaska County and has the reputation of being a superior young business man. Judge Crookham is now four score, was less than thirty when he opened up a little office on the south side of the square. He has known nearly all the Mahaska people I have mentioned and if he was able to read my story, would say, "I know what she is talking about."

I have reason to think and speak kindly of the people of Mahaska County. From my youth up, whether in prosperity or adversity, health or sickness, joy or sorrow, they have shown me great kindness. When the husband of my youth, after we had traveled life's journey together for almost half a century, closed hls eyes forever on the things of earth and darkness and desolation surrounded me, they came to me with tender words of sympathy, they filled my house with flowers. The same kind acts were repeated when but a few weeks after that great bereavement my bright grandson Willie was taken from us. Willie and his sisters, Daughter and Anne, my son Orlando's children, had lived with me and been like my own ever since their gentle mother died, twelve years ago. In less than one year death had claimed four of my dear ones; husband, grandson Willie, sister Jo and my beloved and only brother Calvin. Each dear one has his or her own place in our hearts. That brother was one of the truest men I ever knew. How I used to look forward to the times when he would visit us. How we enjoyed talking over our own special affairs, not particularly interesting to any but just our two selves. But one morning, it was the 30th of May, Decoration day, 1896, I received a telegram saying:

"THERE IS NO HOPE. PREPARE FOR THE WORST."

In the afternoon I received another saying:

"FATHER DIED AT 4 P. M. EDWIN."

The dear brother whom I had loved so much had entered the great beyond. From boyhood up he had been a conscientious and devout Christian, He was pastor of Friends church at Kokomo, Ind., where he died. He was laid to rest by the side of the wife of his youth in Wilmington, Ohio. Esther, his present wife, a woman of fine mind and strong Christian character, and four manly sons survive him. I never knew a more devoted husband and father than Calvin W. Pritchard.

Death had not broken into our immediate family until my husband and I had traveled thirty-six years of life's journey together. We had been so happy and proud of our two little boys, Orlando and Quincy. How their father loved them. They didn't cease playing, cower and shrink off in a corner when they saw their father coming, nor was that father ever too tired to take his little boys in his loving arms or have them climb on his knee. He was a chivalrous, manly man, always true to his word. It meant something to him when he plighted his troth at the marriage altar. The woman whose right hand was held in his when the solemn words were spoken, "until death shall separate you", was always the first lady in the land to him. No word or hint of anything but death separating us was ever uttered between us. Such words, to us, would have seemed akin to blasphemy. When our sons had grown to young manhood and Orlando, after reading law and being admitted to the bar, opened out an office and began practicing law, he went to Delaware, Ohio, where he had been a student in the Wesleyan University, and married Miss Sallie J. Newhall, a beautiful and gentle young lady, and brought her to our home, where she was received with open arms. Sallie was modest and unassuming and not at all vain, though she was very beautiful. Her complexion was like cream and roses, dark brown hair and great liquid brown eyes. We all loved her and were very proud of our daughter. She made many friends. There was never an unkind word between us, though we were together almost daily for fifteen years. Sallie was a sweet-spirited Christian woman and when death came was not afraid to die. Four children were born to Orlando and Sallie.

Semira Jane, whom we have always called Daughter, was named for her grandmothers. John Gorrell, "Jackie" as we called him, was the next. The first grave made on our little square of ground in Forest Cemetery was for dear, bright, handsome "Jackie," who had been with us a little less than six years when the Lord took him. Anne Lee was the next, now a tall, handsome, fine looking woman married to Mr. Jenkin Davis, an energetic young business man of Oskaloosa. Two sons have been born to Jenkin and Anne, which makes me a great grandmother. William Phillips Davis, my first great grandson, is handsome and smart, we think, and tries to do everything he sees anybody else do. John Quincy, his little brother, after a brief stay with us, was laid beside his grandmother and little uncle "Jackie." William Lacey, "Willie," the last of Orlando and Sallie's four children, was only eight years old when his mother died. Willie died September 15, 1895. He was a bright, energetic, manly boy. He, too, sleeps among his kin.

Daughter was a sweet and lovely child, was her grandpapa's darling, though he dearly loved all his grandchildren. Daughter was the first, and the first little girl to come into our family. She has developed into a noble, intelligent, practical and handsome woman. Three years ago she was married to Mr. David William Woodruff, son of Captain Woodruff, of Oskaloosa. Mr. Woodruff is a fine-looking young business man, full of energy, and a fine mechanic. Daughter and her husband live with me, and they relieve me of many cares and treat me with great kindness.

Mr. Moody, the great evangelist, once said: "If you want your hearts filled with love, take the New Testament and look for, read and study all the passages which speak of love, and the first you know your hearts will be full of love."

I have tried to tell a true story of the times when Mahaska was a wilderness-of the pioneers, and many who came later. I have written and thought so much about their noble traits and deeds, that if I ever thought they had any faults, I have forgotten them. I have endeavored to tell my story "with charity toward all and malice toward none." It is a good thing to "cast the beam out of one's own eye."

This simple and unpretentious story has assumed much greater length than I had any thought of its doing when I began to tell it. I hope it will be received in the spirit in which it was told. Much of it has been told with an aching heart, and with tears blinding my eyes, in the dead hours of night, in loneliness, in desolation; with thoughts ever and anon flying to the little square of earth in Forest Cemetery where so many of my precious dead are sleeping, and where by the husband of my youth and my beloved son Quincy I will soon be sleeping myself.

My noble, great-hearted Quincy, who loved his mother with all his true, manly nature. Whom I thought would be the solace of my old age, the stay of my declining years. Quincy was in all my plans for the future, but he went out from his home one night with a tender word of leave-taking, expecting to be back in a few hours, as was his habit; but in a few hours he was brought home to his mother with eyes closed forever to the things of earth, and the voice we all loved so much to hear, forever stilled. We don't know what terrible shocks of grief we can endure until we are compelled to endure them. When I was told that a stroke of apoplexy had ended the life of my precious son, I thought I would be stricken myself. I kept looking for it to come, but the stroke did not come. The Lord gave me grace to bear that terrible blow, and to go on with my story, a considerable part of which had been written and read to that dear son, who would laugh and say: "Mother, it takes you a long time to reach Mahaska County, but go on it's all right." His brothers of the Masonic order, of which he was a member and to which he was much attached, came to me in that time of deep sorrow with tender sympathy and kind acts which I hope never to become ungrateful enough to forget. Those noble friends watched by his lifeless body, they manifested the greatest respect, they followed him to the grave and tenderly laid him to rest with the rites peculiar to their order.

Since I began this story, in January, 1898, some of the old settlers have lain down life's burdens and have entered into rest. There was Mrs. Brewer, one of the brightest women other age I ever knew; and Aunt Sade Boswell, who had endeared herself to many Oskaloosa people; and D. W. Loring, who was an honored citizen of Oskaloosa to the day of his death - just the other day he crossed the dark river.

I have witnessed the gradual development of this goodly land from wild woods and wild prairies to beautiful, cultivated farms; from the crudest kind of log cabins to elegant mansions, such as we ever dreamed of in the early days; from no school-houses nor churches at all to, such magnificent structures as are to, be seen all over Oskaloosa, in her houses of worship and temples of learning.

I did not plan to finish my story on Oskaloosa's fifty-sixth birthday, but that is what I have done.