The following is the text of a book written about the life of the Park family of Worthington, Ohio, a small town immediately north of Columbus, Ohio, during the late 1800s. Harriet (Hattie) S. Park was Faith Welling Merrill's mother, and Faith Welling Merrill was the maternal grandmother of Christopher J. Warner, husband of Cathryne Bennett Warner and father of Christopher and Cody Warner. The book was written by Frances C. Park, Harriet Park's younger sister, who never married.
The Story of the
Early Park Family Life
in Worthington
by Frances C. Park
ACCEDING to the urgent and repeated request of my nephew Warren and his sister Martha, I will endeavor to give a brief sketch of the life in Worthington of my parents, and of my brothers and sisters and myself as we grew up.
Since I am the last member of my family, I will turn backward somewhat, in this little narrative, for I realize that with me will perish the family traditions and memories, and they must be preserved.
About 1804 or 1806, my grandfather, Jonathan Park and Amelia Kate, his wife, came from Bernardston, Massachusetts, to Ohio by wagon train and settled first at Liberty, northwest of Worthington. Of this journey to the new country, I can give but one incident, tho' doubtless it was replete with interest. Every wagon train tried to have with it at least one representative of each trade, both for convenience and safety along the way, and also when the new destination should be reached. After the company had been several days on the way, it was found that one of the horses had lost a shoe and to the dismay of the travelers, no blacksmith was with them. Grandfather, who was always "very handy" with tools, finally said if a piece of iron could be found, he thought he could shape a shoe which would answer the purpose. So after a search of the wagons produced the required iron, he made a shoe and put it on the disabled horse, and the little caravan proceeded on its way.
How many years were spent in Liberty, I do not know, but later Grandfather bought a farm two and one half miles east of Worthington, on what is now known as the Granville Road. Here his family of ten children grew to manhood and womanhood and scattered, the two older sons, Rodney and Hulburd, and the oldest daughter, Sophia, going to Illinois. Father and the two younger daughters, Sylvia and Juliette, remained in Ohio. In the meantime, Grandmother had lost by death, twins and two other children.
At that time, it was the custom for one son to remain at or near the old home to look after the parents, and this lot fell to my father, he being the youngest son. How faithful he was to this trust is revealed in records of those days found by my sister Hattie and myself in recent years, and borne out by our personal knowledge as far as memory reaches back. In this care of his parents he was most ably abetted and supported by my mother.
Grandfather had light hair, very blue eyes, and was of a mild, gentle, affectionate disposition, while grandmother had dark eyes and hair, with a vigorous mentality, a keen wit and a strong sense of humor. Grandfather's death occurred in 1865, at the age of seventy-two years, but grandmother lived to be eighty-four, and celebrated her eightieth birthday by riding horseback. From my earliest remembrance, they lived in the same yard with us in Worthington, on Granville Road and the corner of Hartford Street. After grandfather's death, father built a house for grandmother adjoining our house, at what is now Park Highlands.
Father and mother were married August 14, 1850, at her home in Suffield, Conn., her name being Cornelia Elizabeth King, and she came, a slight girl of twenty-two, gentle, cultured, and refined, with high ideals to this new country and met the many trials and deprivations of those times with the greatest fortitude and never-failing courage, and she never for one moment lowered her ideals. Both she and father had brown eyes and dark hair, and others have told me that they were a very handsome bride and groom when they came to Worthington. I can imagine they made quite a striking appearance, and both had great dignity, which was not assumed but perfectly natural. People were not apt to presume with them!
For a time after they were married, they lived on the farm with his parents and there was born their first child, Clifton, who only lived three months. Living was very primitive then, all water for household purposes having to be brought in from an outside well and heated in a kettle over a fire in an open fireplace. There were no conveniences whatever, and few comforts. After a time, father took over the superintendency of the Little Miami Powder Mills, on the Little Miami River, at Goes Station, some miles north of Xenia, mother's brother, J. W. King, being president of the company. Here they lived until after sister Hattie was born, and a little later returned to the farm. But father retained an interest and stock in the Powder Company for the greater part of his life, was a Director and always attended the "annual" meeting in January.
After they returned to the farm, father built a log cabin at the corner of Granville and Burwell Roads, where they lived by themselves and here was born my brother, William Dwight. Father added more land to the original acres, making two hundred and eight acres in all. At this time all roads were simply mud with no bottom to them, wagons sank into the hubs and sometimes over. Everyone had to use either spring or farm wagons. If there were no load or hauling, men rode horseback very often, which was much simpler.
Father said he would not bring up a family so far from churches and schools, so he bought the home in Worthington, at the corner of Granville Road and Hartford Street to which I have previously referred. Soon afterward he bought the adjoining place on the east, where he established his parents and they lived there until grandmother's death. Our home in Granville Road was the birth place of my brother Howard Courtland and myself. When Howard was two years old, Father purchased the home at what was then the south end of Hartford Street extending from South Street on the north to adjoining farm lands on the south, and from High Street on the west to the "Methodist Graveyard" on the east, about twenty acres in 0. Meantime, father was carrying on the farm, going back and forth through rain and shine, heat and cold, mud and dust, and mother was doing her full share in keeping up the home cooking, saving, sewing, and not least, looking after the welfare and training of six children, for in due time, my sister Mary King and my brother Warren Hulburd, had arrived in our busy world, no small task for a slender, delicate woman who enjoyed reading and intellectual accomplishments, and who was herself, a very ready and clever writer.
In this home we grew to manhood and womanhood with the exception of Warren, who was taken from our circle at the age of nine years, and whose loss was a great blow to us all, for he was an unusually fine boy, with a very bright mind, a winning personality, and greatly loved by all who knew him. His going was most keenly felt by Mary, for they were inseparable companions and playmates, and with his death her childhood came to an end and she never again cared to play. He was two and a half years younger than she. There were three years and three months between the rest of us, alternating, a girl and then a boy, clear down the line.
To resume, the girls of the family must make the beds, put the rooms in order, help wash and wipe the dishes, no small task, with ten or fifteen milk pans, cream jars, milk pails, etc., beside the table dishes for the family, numbering not less than ten people, and often in the summer, two or three extra guests, some We were an active, busy household, each child having his own duties to perform, and in this way contributing to the comfort and the pleasure of the family. Of course, mother was head official in the house and her authority was never questioned. She and Aunt Ella carried on the culinary department, casting occasional glances about to see that "the children" were not neglecting their part in things. To the youngest child fell the task of bringing in the ,chips and kindling for the wood fires and of helping to keep grandmother's woodbox filled. The next child fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, went to the post office for the mail, and did any other errands needed. In the house, the oldest daughters must wash, trim and fill all the coal oil lamps and have them ready for evening, a job we all detested, and I can see that line of lamps now, on a long shelf in the kitchen. Also, we always had two or three lanterns, for there were no outside lights of any kind, and then darkness was simply black, except during moonlight. If necessity arose for some one to go up street in the evening, or to call a doctor, or if a sick horse or cow needed father's attention during the night, a lantern must be on hand. We always had tallow candles for no one was allowed to carry a lighted lamp about the house. Candles were molded at home and the first money Howard and I earned was that paid us by mother for molding candles. We had two sets of tin molds holding six candles each, and we hung the wicking over small sticks, dropping the end of the wicking into the pointed end of the mold and resting the sticks on the other end. After melting the beef tallow, we poured it hot, quite a particular job, into the molds and left them in a cold place. We were always careful to have the wicks exactly in the center and the candles perfectly smooth.
To resume, the girls of the family must make the beds, put the rooms in order, help wash and wipe the dishes, no small task, with ten or fifteen milk pans, cream jars, milk pails, etc., beside the table dishes for the family, numbering not less than ten people, and often in the summer, two or three extra guests, some times men to see father on business, whom we girls accused (to each other) of timing their calls for meal time, as they were fond of mother's cooking!
It was always an impossibility to get domestic help in Worthington, tho' we generally did have a "wash woman", not a laundress! Sometimes, in an emergency, mother went to the Industrial School in Delaware, and brought home a girl, but they were not trustworthy and were more of a worry than help. Girls from the city would not stay as there was no way of getting back and forth.
Beside all the daily activities, mother did all the sewing for the entire family, underwear from grand- mother down, shirts, collars, cravats for father, tuck- ing the shirt bosoms by hand for there were no sewing machines then. (By the way, father always wore white shirts, never saw him in any other.) For the boys, pants, coats, overcoats, knitted socks and mittens. Silk, wool and cotton dresses for the girls, pretty lace -caps for grandmother, flannel underwear all around. Sheets, quilts, comforts and all bedding--nothing ready made to be had. She was a beautiful and a dainty sewer, her cutting and fitting were very exact and for years she made the greater part of her own patterns.
In the summer, father and the boys left early for the farm, where they spent busy days, coming home at night to milk several cows, to feed and care for six or eight horses, feed pigs, calves, etc. No five nor seven hour days then! When Warren was seven and Mary nine years old, they were busy children in the summer, for it fell to them to take the hot dinners, carefully cooked and packed by mother and Aunt Ella, to the men at the farm. The children would hitch "Old Grey" to the buggy, drive to the door and mother and Aunt Ella would put in the two large baskets, one with hot food and the other with dishes and off the children went, driving past the post office to get the "Journal" for father and the "Youth's Companion" for themselves when it came, and reaching the farm by twelve o'clock, when the men stopped for the noon hour. Meantime, mother watched from the back porch until she saw the white horse cross the "Big Four" railroad tracks, and a little later, when she heard the whistle of the noon train, she knew the children were safely out of its way. Father unpacked and served the dinner to the men, putting boards across wooden horses, and mother always sent a table cloth. Many farmers did not give their men hot dinners, but father said a man could not work in the field all day with only a cold lunch from seven in the morning until five-thirty or six at night. After dinner he packed the dishes into the baskets and started the children home. He then spent the remainder of the noon hour reading the journal under a tree or on the hay. He never made companions nor associates of his men, as some people then did.
I cannot remember the time when he did not take the journal, and within my time, we also had a weekly church paper, The Youth's Companion, and a little later, other publications. Once a year an old man (called a colporteur) came to town with books to sell, carrying them from house to house in baskets. Mother always selected two or three for us children, some of which are still in my possession. If she gave him his dinner or allowed him to stay overnight, he gave her an additional book in appreciation of her kindness.
Father kept a set of books as any business man, keeping account of the cost of the seed, the number of days' labor, the men hired and their wages. The number of bushels the crop yielded, for what it sold, etc., sometimes holding it until higher prices. He practiced the rotation of crops and many other things now set forth by "Agricultural Departments" as being new and modern! He was not particularly fond of farming, but was a very intelligent and successful farmer. He was well known throughout Franklin County, and was often called upon to administer estates, one of which, I remember, was that of a Dr. Kilbourne, a brother or nephew of the founder of Worthington. His advice was sought by many people, especially women who were left alone and who had no knowledge of business. He always gave freely of his time and trouble to those who needed them, and that portion of his mantle certainly fell upon the shoulders of his sons, as all those who knew them will testify. Any public duties that fell to him were discharged with the utmost fidelity, and always, "his word was as good as his bond". He had many friends and acquaintances among the business men and bankers of Columbus - Mr. Huntington, General Beatty, Mr. Sessions, the Westwaters and others, and when he had the leisure, enjoyed a little visit with them. He, also, was acquainted with some of the judges and a number of the clergy of Columbus. He was a very ac- curate student of human nature and would have made a good lawyer.
However, I would not have you think that our life was too serious, with all work and no play, for we had many pleasures which, to be sure, were much simpler than now, but all life was simpler, in many ways. Mother and father had many nice friends and often entertained with dinner parties, Aunt Ella going from house to house inviting the guests, saying "Mr. and Mrs. Park present their compliments and desire the pleasure of your company at dinner, on such a date". Quaint, wasn't it! During the summer we often had house guests for several weeks at a time, relatives of mother's from Massachusetts and Connecticut, who thought they were coming to the "far west", old friends of mother's and father's dropping in for over night or a few days, ministers coming to town for some special service or conference, many of them having a fund of funny stories which we all enjoyed. Our parents were always pleasant and courteous to every one, to people of every class, but they also had reservations which were strictly their own.
We children could always have our schoolmates and friends for a daytime play or visit, and our home was a favorite place with them, for the large barn and haymow always offered entertainment and the out- doors presented many attractions and unlimited room for games of all sorts. There were always plenty of apples and other fruits, and no limit was placed on us so far as fruit was concerned. As I look back, I realize that we did not go to the homes of others nearly as often as they came to us, due to the unspoken wisdom of our parents, tho' that knowledge never came to me until after I reached womanhood and knew that some other homes were not desirable places for us to be. In retrospect, I appreciate how nicely we were guided in the choice of our friends and associates, and still I do not remember that criticism or gossip were ever repeated in our presence.
One of our great pleasures was going to the mill with father when he took the wheat and corn to be ground into flour and meal for family use. Howard and myself used to think it a great treat to play about the mill and watch the great wheels turn, and as Mary and Warren came on, they, too, enjoyed it. The mill, I think, was on the Whetstone-Olentangy River, but possibly it may have been the Scioto.
In the fall we gathered hickory nuts and walnuts on the farm and sometimes we helped gather the apples, there being a large or-chard there beside the one on the home place. The apples to be sold must be carefully picked and placed in barrels or large baskets, while those that f ell to the ground were kept for home use, some made into cider and some into apple butter. Often there were parties among the children as there were among the grown people, tho' there was no card playing nor dancing among people of the "best standing", and especially among church people. In f act, at that time, I knew no one who danced or played -cards. Father was very strongly opposed to both. Sister Hattie and Aunt Ella used to complain greatly, because when they went to a party, they were required to be at home by ten o'clock. We often had sleighing parties. A wagon box was put on a large sled, straw was put on the bottom of the sled and we sat -on that, and almost any number of people could ride. Even the horses enjoyed it, and the jingling of the bells seemed to please them as much as it did the passengers. Often on a very snowy morning, Howard would hitch a horse to a home made snow plow and drive the length of the town on one side of the street and back on the other, thus clearing the paths for everyone. But no one else seemed to be that public-spirited.
In those days there were few conveniences, either in the house or outdoors. There were no furnaces and usually only one room, "the sitting room", be- sides the kitchen, was heated. There was no way provided for heating bedrooms, but with featherbeds, flannel sheets and flannel blankets, people managed to sleep comfortably. In the winter when we had no guests, we children would undress before the fire in the sitting room, each one putting his clothes on a certain chair, and when thoroughly warm, we would fly to bed. In the morning we would rush to the fire, which was always ready for us, pull up our chairs and dress as quickly as possible.
There were no bathrooms and bath time was quite an event. All water must be carried in, not piped, from outdoors. A fire was kindled in the kitchen stove, of course we always burned wood, a wash boiler was put on the stove and filled with soft, clear rain- water. A wash tub was brought in, a wooden one, no galvanized ones then, and as soon as the water was sufficiently heated, enough was dipped into the tub for the first bath which was usually given to the youngest child. While his bath was in progress, the boiler was filled again with water for the next plunge, etc., until the six of us were clean and in bed. Mother and father finished up the line, and after disposing of tub, boiler, any extra water, towels, etc., hied themselves to their much needed and well-deserved rest. Need- less to say, daily baths were not popular at that time.
Each bedroom was furnished with a washstand, with bowl, pitcher and other toilet conveniences, but no water could be kept in them in the winter, as it would freeze and break the pitchers, so the water must be carried in fresh each time. The toilet sets were of china and very pretty, but the pitchers were heavy to lift when filled with water. Aluminum was unknown in those days. Some years later, tin foot- tubs were in use and were a great convenience. We used well water for drinking purposes, which always must be carried from out of doors. Our "water pail" was a very nice cedar one with three brass hoops, and it was never used for any other purpose. Cisterns were usually out of doors too, but father had ours in the woodshed opening out of the kitchen, which was a great help, especially in the winter. Wood fires must be built every morning and the ashes carried out. We browned and ground all the coffee that was used. In the summer no one had ice and there were no fly screens. Father had a square hole cut in the large stone over the well and a box with a cover made to fit over the hole. Inside the box were strong hooks on each side, and from these hooks we suspended by long ropes, tin pails with tight covers, and as the well was very deep and cold, it made a fine refrigerator for our meat, butter, cream and other food, and of course vegetables and fruits were gathered fresh from the garden just before a meal.
As for window screens, after people had given the house its morning "straightening", all of the front part was closed up and the shades drawn down, only opening it at evening or when callers appeared. Of course the whole family was busy all the forenoon so there was not much time, then, to occupy the front of the house. The first that I can remember of screens, was cloth mosquito netting tacked over the windows, but nothing at the doors. Palm leaf fans were always at hand and one of us would wield one against the flies at meal time, and the dining room was never opened up until the food was on the table. In the spring, the cookstove was always moved into the wood- shed, opening out of the kitchen, which had a good floor, cupboards, etc., and was a very breezy summer kitchen with a porch at each end. Also, it lessened the heat in the house. Our pantry did not open from the kitchen but from a porch on the north side of the house, so it was always cool and could be kept dark when necessary.
Twice during the year, spring and fall, mother made an all day shopping trip to Columbus, to do the family shopping for the season. She and father had an early breakfast, the horses and carriage were brought to the door and they were off. At this time, there was a plank road to the city and while it was better than riding through the mud, it was far from perfect. The planks extended over only half the road way, the other half being mud and lower than the planks, so when two vehicles met, the one which must "turn out", had to go down into the mud and it required skillful driving not to turn over. The trip meant about three hours on the way, one and a half in each direction. As the time drew near f or the travelers' return, we children ran to the road every few minutes to listen for the thud of the horses feet and my brothers could always tell from the sound whether they were ours. When, finally, they arrived, we helped carry in the packages and bundles, for both our parents were completely worn out, mother with a raging sick headache and father with a severe attack of indigestion. There were no restaurants nor tea rooms then, and the only place to have a meal was at the hotel, which was expensive and not very satisfactory at that. And the money must be carefully spent, for there were many pairs of shoes to be provided, materials of all kinds, school books, etc. So, often our parents shopped all day with not even a cup of coffee nor a sandwich. Often they would bring us a little treat, an orange to be divided between the six of us, a little toy for the younger ones, and we were happy. If one of us needed shoes, they took that one with them for the shoes must be fitted at the store, it was too much of a trip to take them back.
January was usually butchering time, as it must be done in very cold weather, since there was no ice for household use. A man, who made it his business, came and did the killing and cut up the meat out of doors. The hams and shoulders, when they were cold, were hung in the smoke house and every night and morning a fire, of corn cobs, was built under them and the door closed. This was repeated until they were thoroughly smoked through, which, I think, must have taken several weeks. They then were taken down and packed in kegs, in salt peter, with perhaps some other preservatives. Father always attended to this himself as he was very particular about it and we always had delicious hams. The side meat was trimmed and put in a cold place. Usually the minister was presented with some and some given to close neighbors. The small pieces of meat were put aside for sausage, and the making of this was greatly enjoyed by us children, for it was usually done in the evening and every one took part in it. A sausage grinder, the only one in town I think, was fastened to a table or bench, and mother "fed" the meat to the grinder, lest by mistake a piece of bone might get in, and father or one of the children turned the crank. Two other children must stand, one on each side, when the meat came out into the casings, and when air 'bubbles formed must prick them with pins so the casing would not burst. We always had some sausage in bulk and mother al- ways seasoned all of the meat herself. When the sausages were finished they were packed in stone jars, hot lard poured over the top, the jars securely covered and in this way they kept for weeks. The large pieces of fat meat were put in brine, for "pickled pork" and lasted the year round. All the small pieces of fat were carefully put aside to be "tried out" for lard which was done in iron kettles, (nearly all cooking utensils were iron) on the kitchen stove. It was very particular work, as it must not be allowed to boil over nor to burn. When it was finished it was clear and white and made fine shortening. Mother poured it into large tin cans with tight covers and kept it until the next year. It has always been hard for me to be satisfied with any other shortening.
People at that time, made all their own soap for household use. In the fall, two or three barrels were put on a low platform against the back fence, the platform slanting a little away from the fence and under its edge were placed large iron kettles. During the winter, the ashes from the wood fires were emptied into the barrels and when the rains and snows came, water filtered through the ashes and formed a lye which ran into the kettles. Meantime, all grease from household use was stored in stone jars and in the spring, both grease and lye were emptied into an enormous iron kettle, under which a fire was built and as the lye dissolved the grease the mixture was stirred frequently and when it reached boiling point, must be stirred constantly and carefully watched until it was "boiled down" to the right consistency and was perfectly smooth. When finished, it was stored in jars and lasted until the next spring. It was a long laborious process and I hardly see how mother was equal to it, but perhaps the fact that it was all done out in the fresh air was an aid to her. She loved the outdoors and her health was always better when she could be out. Both of our parents were deeply interested in our education and made every effort that we should have all the advantages possible in those days. We all were always in school the entire school year, from September until early in June. In the early years, there was a very rough element in the public schools, and father secured teachers - sometimes sending away for them - to open private schools, he, himself, often securing enough pupils to have the school successful and interesting. The first school that I attended was in the Masonic Building on High Street, which is still standing. Each of the older pupils furnished his own desk or stand and chair and the rest of us sat on a bench, made from a tree trunk split lengthwise, with legs on the rounding or bark side. A pail of water, a tin cup beside it, stood on a bench at one side. It was no "pre-school", for, while I was only five years old, I still have the little geography that I studied, with the date in it. How horrified the teachers of today would be, but it seemed not to have stunted my growth in any way.
Early in the seventies, I think it was, a normal school was established in what is now known as the "Worthdale Apartments". Two excellent educators were at the head of it, one being the grandfather of Mrs. Outhwaite, Prof. Ogden by name. While most of the students were former teachers there for train- ing, there were a few local pupils of my age and we were formed into a class by ourselves. Here was laid the foundation for my Latin and German and it never failed me, it was so thorough. From this school, Hat- tie was graduated, but meantime, Brother Will had been offered a position in the Commercial Bank, in Columbus, and left school to accept it and was there a number of years. The school was given up before I was ready for graduation and was a great loss to the town, for it brought a very good class of students. Later, when the State University was talked of, father worked hard to have it located in Worthington, but the people were not public spirited and would not cooperate. They thought the students would be a "great nuisance". They could see no benefit to the town.
When Hattie reached suitable age, and he was able, father purchased an excellent piano of a New York firm, and made arrangements for her to have piano lessons in Columbus, she going back and forth by train. She became an excellent pianist and a fine accompanist as she read music very quickly and accurately. We had that same piano until after we moved to Columbus, and until Mary was married and the home of Jefferson Avenue broken up. Father was fond of music and had a very good bass voice. He loved to sing the hymns of the church and often, Sun- day afternoons, as the day waned, he put aside his reading, took one of the children on his lap and sang several hymns. I never hear those hymns now that they do not bring back the memory of those Sunday afternoons. "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name" was one of his favorites and he sang it well. In 1876 he and Hattie attended the Centenial Exposition in Philadelphia, and for the first time heard the Theodore Thomas Orchestra, then considered the finest in the country.
Mother, also, had a good voice and we children loved to have her sing to us. She also read to us and often repeated stories in verse, composing the words as she read or sang. Some of these are still fresh in my memory. She made two or three trips to her old home in Connecticut, taking one or two children with her, while Aunt Ella looked after those left at home. Her last visit was the summer after father's death when Mary was with her and they also visited some of Grandmother Park's relatives in Bernardston, Massachusetts.
During the winter, there was not so much to be done out of doors, and father would go over his farm books and business papers, and see that the harness was in shape and ready for spring plowing-often doing the sewing and repairing with his own hands. But there were hungry schoolchildren to be fed and mother was in great demand. On a cold, wet night, she and Aunt Ella always had some extra good hot dish for us. In the winter evenings, after "supper", the stand-I still have it-was moved to the center of the "sitting room" in front of the open fire. A lamp was lighted and placed in the center of the stand and father sat at one side with his reading and mother on the other side with her sewing or knitting, the older children finding their places between, as they prepared their lessons, and the younger ones playing on the floor. Once in a while, someone would make a quick movement against the stand and over went the lamp to the floor, but as it always came down right side up, no harm resulted, except the breaking of the chimney. If we had trouble with our mathematics, father put aside his paper and helped us, but if it were "Composition", grammar, or spelling, mother came to our rescue. She was a fine English scholar and was most helpful to us always, often suggesting a subject and seeing that our meaning was properly ex- pressed. In later years, especially, I deeply appreciated all that she did for us in that way-I still have the French Grammar which she used in her school days.
With all their busy life, mother and father found time for things of the "higher life". Grandfather and Grandmother were charter members of the Presbyterian Church in Worthington. Mother brought her letter from the Baptist Church in her old home, and father united in early manhood. For many years father was a Trustee and at certain times of the year, spent many days, driving over rough and mud roads, soliciting subscriptions toward the minister's salary and seeing that the same was paid on time. In order that this might be done, he often advanced money from his own pocket for those who could not pay promptly, and waited indefinitely to be reimbursed. He also taught a class of young men in the Sunday School and mother had a class of young "ladies". Some years later, the church had no minister for a year, and mother, and another mother of six children, kept up and superintended the Sabbath School. Aunt Ella taught the primary class, Hattie was organist and Brother Will was librarian. The "Equipment" of which we hear so much these days, was the Bible and some song books, but it was an educational, uplifting and softening influence in the life of every child who attended, and much of that early scriptural knowledge has been with me and most helpful through all the years. Do you know any mother today, even of two or three children, who would think she could make that effort for the religious life and training of her children? I trow not!
In the fall, father always sent the minister a load of hay and corn to feed his horse during the winter, also, he sent a barrel of potatoes, a barrel of apples, meat at butchering time, and supplied him and his family with milk the year round, the only stipulation being that they come for the milk. They were given butter, eggs, chickens, etc., through the year, and of course all these things were in addition to what father contributed to the salary. Often when a new minister came to the church, he and his family stayed at our house until they found a house of their own. Of course, some of us children had to be "parked" out over night, at Grandmother's or a near neighbor's, but the visitors never realized that it was any trouble, for it was a high principle of mother's hospitality that no guest should ever know he or she was causing the hostess any inconvenience, or disrupting the house- hold in any way. On Wednesday evening, Father, Hattie, and Aunt Ella always went to prayer meeting, carrying a lantern to light the way, while mother stayed home with us younger ones. No questions were asked Sunday mornings as to who was going to church, for we all went, unless too sick, and evidence of that had to be quite apparent!
During the Civil War, father was exempted from service by reason of his family and parents, but he paid a man to go as his representative, which was quite a usual thing to do at that time. There were many "ne'er-do-wells" at that time who were glad to take the money and fight, but who were no benefit to their own community. However, when the call came for troops to gather at Camp Chase, west of Columbus, father responded and I still have the blanket which he carried at that time. I do not know how long he was there, but he was in Columbus frequently while the troops were in the city. He had business with some of the officers, and after walking to the station with General McClellan one day, he remarked to mother that, "the closer contact one has with a big man, the smaller that man becomes." On one of his trips to the city, some northern soldiers came to him and asked him if he would keep a colored boy whom they had brought from Georgia, but as they must go on they could not take him with them. So f ather brought him home Benjamin Franklin Gay, by name, his master's. Mother said the only clothing he had was what he had on, a shirt and a pair of pants held up by one "gallus" suspender. The soldiers had given him a little money and when he found that father had a little son, Ben took his all and bought a pocket knife which he presented to my brother Will. The family was quite touched by this proof of a warm and generous heart beneath so black a skin, for Ben was very black, with flat nose and thick lips, and was pitifully ignorant. But he proved to be a most trusty and faithful servant. He was very devoted to every member of the family, f rom "the boss" down, was especially fond of the children and mother always felt safe about us when we were with him. We taught him many things, and he was happy when he learned to read, tho' haltingly, the New Testament. Father took care of him when he was sick, and mother looked after his clothing and she and Aunt Ella saw that he was warmly clothed when he went out on winter morn- ings, for he had no idea of northern winters and froze his feet by slipping out one snowy morning with neither shoes nor stockings. He was with us for nine years, until some of the towns' people caused him to be dissatisfied-they did not know how much of a child's nature dwelt in the man's stature.
Mother told me many incidents of the war - how eagerly people waited for news and how neighbors gathered at one another's houses when a news- paper came, how women sacrificed their table linen and linen sheets, scraping them into lint to be sent for the use of the wounded soldiers, for there was no gauze, no absorbent cotton, nor sterilized bandages then. Mother told of the overwhelming blow it was to Ohio when the word came of President Lincoln's assassination, of the awe and sorrow with which the throngs of people looked upon his features as his body rested in the State House at Columbus. Mother thought him one of the greatest men and one of the greatest heroes of all history. This may seem a digression, but is all connected up with our life at Worthington. I can remember, during my childhood, of many "stragglers" who came to our house for food-leftovers from the war or deserters who dared not go home.
That was a great day when mother had a sewing machine, and what a joy it must have been to her. It was a "Grover and Baker" make, with a chain stitch which -could be easily pulled out by taking hold of the right end of the thread, a great advantage, for in those days clothing was ripped apart and made over, not once, but two or three times until the material was literally worn out. And then it was made into carpet rags, strips sewed together, dyed and woven into carpets. Rag rugs and carpets have never had any attraction for me since that time!
Also, there was great excitement in the family when father bought his first mowing machine. Be- f ore that all grass and hay must be cut with scythes, by hand. The hired men were never allowed to drive the mower, but father himself always drove it, until my brothers were old enough to do so. For if any part of it were broken, it meant a long trip and loss of time in the field, to have it repaired. Sometimes a bumble bees' nest would be run over and that raised a great commotion, for the bees settled not only on the men but on the horses as well, and it required a firm hand on the lines to keep them from running away and causing all kinds of trouble. As for the men, it always seemed to me that they welcomed even that diversion in a long day. Father was fond of horses and was an excellent driver and horseman. He knew his horses and they knew him and he could always control them, tho' he almost never used any means except his voice and the lines. He always had mules for the colored men to use, for, he said, the two belonged together.
Frequently, I went with him to salt the stock and there were always ten or twelve young horses in the woods pasture at the south side of the farm adjoining what afterwards became Minerva Park. Father would stand at the edge of the woods-not a horse in sight-but when he whistled we would immediately hear the brush crackling under their feet as they trotted up to him from all directions, a look of expectancy on their intelligent and pretty faces. Then he went to the sheep pasture and called and the sheep would raise their heads from their grazing and start toward him right away, for they, like the horses, knew his voice. There are many interesting things in farm life and even animals are quick to recognize a "master mind".
In May or early June, the sheep were driven to the nearest river - usually Alum Creek - and their wool washed and cleaned. After it had dried thoroughly-in a week or so-the wool was sheared, each fleece being rolled by itself, ready for selling, and the "wool money" was quite an important part of the income. In the spring, when the lambs came, often there was a "mother" who would not own her little one, and father brought it home in a basket and gave it to us children if we would take care of it. When it was grown we were given the money for its wool and if it were sold, later, we also received that money. It was well earned too, I assure you!
Thanksgiving was an important day with us. Mother, being from New England, all its traditions and memories were deeply imbedded in her heart. Father and the older children went to church in the morning, while mother, assisted by Aunt Ella, prepared the dinner, which consisted of turkey, our own raising, chicken pie, oysters were too rare and ex- pensive in the earlier days- mashed potatoes, seasoned with butter and rich cream, dressing, gravy,. turnips and one other vegetable, cranberries, our own pickles, jelly, etc., mince and pumpkin pie with cheese. If you will look over this list you will see that every- thing, except the cranberries and cheese, was of our own production, even the flour and lard in the pie- crust and rolls. We never used skim milk for seasoning, but thick rich cream and firm yellow butter made by mother's own hands, and the like of which I have never since tasted. People of today do not know what good milk and butter are. After dinner, father usually read and rested, and mother, Aunt Ella, and the older girls cleaned away the remains of the dinner, washed the dishes etc. The children played together and spent the afternoon as they chose, but the time was short and as twilight came on, the boys went out to milk the cows and do the usual evening work at the barn. When they came in, we had lunch from the remnants of the dinner, and during the evening popped corn over the open fire and cracked nuts gathered from the farm.
As can be imagined, all canned fruits, jams, jellies, pickles and butters must be done at home. No canned goods to be bought and the fall was a busy time, for all fruits must he gathered as well as pre- served. In the spring, there were currants, goose- berries, cherries, strawberries, and a little later, rasp- berries and blackberries, and of course the larger fruits in the fall. Many busy hands were required, as you can see.
Christmas was not observed so widely as it is now, tho' we always kept it as a holiday, similar to Thanksgiving. Almost no one had Christmas trees, but we always hung up our stockings and always found something in them. In the earlier days, candy, raisins, on the stem, many times a whole orange for each of us, good looking rag dolls, carefully fashioned and dressed by mother, paper dolls, designed by her and cut from cardboards, and some suitable things for the boys. But we were always pleased and happy, tho' we knew nothing of walking dolls, coasters nor bicycles. Later, the rag dolls were replaced by china and wax ones, and ice skates, sleds and other things were added for the boys, also an occasional book. My first set of dishes was wonderful to me and I still have some that belonged to my sister Mary. My childish ambition was a buggy for my doll, but the nearest I came to it was a wooden raisin box with a tack in one end to which a string was tied by which to pull it. How early we learn that all our ambitions cannot be satisfied-and still it is better that we have had them!
We always had a nice turkey dinner on Christmas and made the day a real holiday, tho' there were many who did not, and the day or season was not generally ,observed by the churches, except by the Catholic and possibly some Episcopalian. The same was true of Easter, also. The Fourth of July was observed- often with a patriotic gathering and a fiery orator to speak, and some times just as a holiday with no special plan or program. Some years later, after we had moved to Columbus, we, for years, had a family picnic at the home place on the Fourth, inviting all the "in-laws" and their families and some of our old friends and neighbors, often a company of fifty or more, and those were most enjoyable occasions.
About 1874, 1 think it was, Hattie graduated at the Normal School and then taught a year in Marysville. In October, 1875, Ella was married and went to her new home in Illinois, to the great regret of us children. November 1, 1877, Warren was taken from us, and the following June, 1878, Grandmother passed away. August fourteenth of that year, Hattie was married and went to make her home in Columbus, her husband being an attorney there, with "Watson and Burr." So the changes came rapidly.
Father and mother were not strong, the struggle of the early years had left its mark, and after my graduation from the Columbus High School, in 1880, Howard and I took over the responsibility of things at home, he managing affairs out of doors and I in the home with Mary helping me. In May, 1880, brother Will was married, and he too, set up a home for himself in Columbus, he still being in the bank there. In the next two years, father's health failed entirely and on March 18, 1882, he entered into his long last sleep, leaving only the four of us of all those who had once gathered in the home. Father was only sixty-two years of age, but his life had been a very active, busy one and often filled with many problems and perplexities.
Howard was not through school, for he had been obliged to miss a good deal the last year, and Mary had stayed home a year so that I could finish. There was no further necessity for us to carry on the farm and in the f all of either 1882 or 1883, we moved to Columbus, where both Mary and Howard entered the High School. It cost us many a heartache to leave the home, which has meant so much to us and which held so many dear associations and memories, but conditions were so changed that it was not the same. We bought a home on Jefferson Avenue and the four of us settled down there. We took with us a horse, a cow and a wood pile, which were the wonder of all our neighbors.
Meantime, brother Will and my Uncle, J. W. King, of Xenia, had organized The Merchants and Manufacturers Bank, in Columbus, and a place was waiting there for Howard as soon as he should finish school-in fact, during his last semester he was in the bank in the afternoons, and as soon as he graduated, he had a permanent position there, greatly to the pleasure and delight of brother Will, for he had looked forward with great anticipation to the time when the two of them should be associated in business. They were different temperaments, but always worked together in perfect harmony and each was devoted and always loyal to the other. They were very successful and built up a fine business which existed for a number of years. But they fell in with other men who were entirely unscrupulous and without principal and who caused the downfall of a business built in strict honesty and high integrity. In October 1891, Howard was married and went to a home of his own, and in November, 1893, mother left us to join the "Choir Invisible", and Mary and I were alone in the home until her marriage in January, 1903.
Some of you may be interested in knowing how a young man living in Ohio, and a young "lady" living in Connecticut came to know each other. At that time mother's brother, who was much older than she, had been in Ohio some years and was living with his family in Lima, where he was in the powder business. At the time, father was selling powder f or Uncle Warren and was frequently in the King home. On a visit to the old home in Suffield, Uncle persuaded mother to return to Ohio with him to spend a year in his family, which she did and she first met father in that home. At the end of the year, she returned to Suffield. Father soon followed and they were married, he being eight years her senior. Uncle Warren was a man of few words, but I have suspected that there might have been a motive back of his bringing mother home with him, tho' that was never mentioned to me by others.
And so the years have passed, bringing both joys and sorrows, but through them all we clung together and shared whatever came, with warm affection, loving sympathy and perfect confidences tie that was severed only by death itself. I have learned there are few families bound so closely together as were we.
To you who read this little narrative and these memories, many things of that life may seem strange and crude, but in the early years, for father and mother, it was pioneering, bravely and nobly done, and through all the years, they held fast to their ideals, their refinements, and a high standard of Christian living.
I write this because you are interested in knowing your background, and also, I hope, in knowing to what you are expected to attain!
Of the loved ones of that dear group, all are gone save Aunt Ella and myself, each alone, with only memories.
"There are no words too beautiful, to say
Of those who've gone forever-more away
Beyond that ebbing tide
Which knows no flow."
Columbus, Ohio, 1938--Frances C Park,
("Aunt Frank")