HOES FROM THE PAST 
 
 MARY NORGOTT BRYAN 
 

 
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Echoes from the Past 
 
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 Mary Norcott Bryan 
 
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ECHOES FROM THE PAST 
 
 Dedicated to the Memory of my Mother. 
 
 ''But might I choose of all the loved and lost ones, 
 Whose going Home has cost me bitter tears, 
 It would be thy face, oh ! gentle, loving Mother, 
 So missed, so longed for, through these empty years". 
 
 Feeling that whatever is good in my life, or the lives 
 of my children, is due to my Mother's love and prayers, 
 I think it not unwise to write you a short account of her 
 life. 
 
 She prayed three times a day. Always at twilight 
 was her voice lifted up to God for blessings on her loved 
 ones. 
 
 I am especially anxious for my children to remember 
 their grandmother, the essence of whose saintly life still 
 lingers over us, and helps us along in this journey to the 
 future — 
 
 MARY NORCOTT BRYAN 
 
 New Berne, North Carolina 
 May 1st, 1921 
 
LETTER I 
 To my dear children: 
 
 General John Simpson came from Boston when a 
 young man and settled in Pitt County. He married Eliza- 
 beth Hardee, a neighbor. His grand-father was the cele- 
 brated Roger Clapp, who came to Boston from England 
 in 1633. Roger was a great man. He was a Governor of 
 Castle WilHam in Boston, and a zealous patriot. His 
 children's names were a httle peculiar ''Wait," ''Wait- 
 Still," "Desire," "Experience," "Hope," "Unite," "Sup- 
 ply," "Elizabeth," "Preserved". 
 
 General John Simpson, was considered the most 
 prominent man in Eastern Carolina during Colonial 
 times. His life and history are on record. He lived 
 on a plantation six miles from Greenville, which he named 
 "Chatham." He was a Churchman. After the Revolu- 
 tionary War the Episcopal Church became very unpopu- 
 lar, because it was the Church of England. 
 
 Gen'l Samuel Simpson son of Gen'l John Simpson 
 was married four times yet he had only twenty years of 
 married life. His first wife was named Penelope Mcllvane 
 and she was the mother of Mary Nixon Simpson. She 
 was baptised by Bishop Ravenscoft, for whom your 
 Father is named. 
 
 Rev. William Phillips Biddle, was a Baptist Minister 
 from Princess Anne County, Virginia. While traveling 
 through the country when quite a young man, he met 
 my grandmother, Mary Nixon Simpson, and they were 
 married in 1810, when she was only sixteen years old. 
 She was the only living child of General Samuel Simpson, 
 and when she married he made it a condition that she 
 live near him. 
 
 Rev. Wilham P. Biddle when a young man made a 
 will. I copy a portion of it as follows: 
 
 "I will that Isabel, Owen and LilHe be made and set 
 free. Isabel belonged to my Grandfather, and lived with 
 him a faithful servant 'till his death. Owen has been a 
 diligent and faithful servant to me, and greatly assisted 
 me in my business. Lillie nursed me and belonged to my 
 parents. I desire her to be free. Also at the end of five 
 years I desire Eliza to be free. There are few such 
 servants for faithfulness and merit. I wish all my other 
 servants to be hired out for ten years, at which time I 
 will that all shall be free. 
 
"1 wish that they may be tendered to the Coloniza- 
 tion Society of Virginia. They shall be settled in the 
 most eligible portion of Africa, or in the South West of 
 our own continent. I will that all that are twenty-one 
 years of age shall receive six months education". 
 
 This will was written in 1820, and was rather remark- 
 able, as he had a plantation with many negroes at that 
 time, and the question of slavery was just being agitated. 
 
 My mother was born in New Berne in a comfortable 
 brick residence on Craven Street in August 1812. This 
 was the year of our second war with England. The 
 family had moved temporarily from Hermitage Planta- 
 tion. 
 
 So far as I know my dear mjother's childhood was 
 uneventful; passed in a pleasant country home with many 
 happy gambols under the shade trees, with her sisters 
 and brothers. She was away from home at school only 
 one year, but her parents always employed a governess. 
 Her thirst for knowledge was great, and especially was 
 she versed in the Bible. 
 
 Gen'l. Samuel Simpson was very much attached to 
 my mother, whom he called ''Sally", and she spent many 
 weeks at his Fort Barnwell home. At that time her 
 father. Rev. William P. Biddle, had unwisely involved 
 himself in debt by buying much land, and was unable to 
 finish the education of his two oldest children, Sam and 
 Sally. 
 
 Her grandfather, Gen'l. Simpson, offered to educate 
 one, and my mother, with her usual unselfishness, gave 
 way to her brother, who went to Chapel Hill, and gradu- 
 ated there in 1832. 
 
 One of her great pleasures was going to ''Associations" 
 with her father, sometimes on her fleet Arabian mare, 
 given her by the old General, or seated beside him in an 
 old fashioned gig. I well remember this old gig going 
 to ruin behind the carriage house at "Hermitage", and 
 how we children enjoyed playing in it. 
 
 Elder Biddle had strict ideas of rearing children — so 
 different from his gentle, kindly wife. He considered it 
 well to discipline them, and on several occasions my 
 dear mother would be all ready to go to one of these "Big 
 Meetings", her capes, which capable hands had been 
 weeks in embroidering, done up, with ruffles and collars, 
 and put into the portmanteau, when her father would 
 say he had reconsidered — she must remain at home. 
 
She was fond of dress, and always had lovely taste. 
 Once she wanted a bonnet which cost $16.00. Gen'l 
 Simpson, from whom she must have imbibed some of these 
 ideas told her he would give her the money if she would 
 make him a set of shirts — and a set of shirts in those 
 days were very different from the ones made in these 
 days. Every thread had to be pulled, and every stitch 
 was taken by her hands. He was a handsome old man, 
 with bright black eyes, and until the day of his death 
 wore a cue and knee breeches, silver buckles and silk 
 stockings. He had his sloops that sailed regularly to 
 Boston, and I have a number of memoranda in which 
 fine clothes and fine underwear, etc. were ordered, along 
 with groceries. 
 
 LETTER II 
 
 My mother was twenty-one years old when she married 
 my father, John Norcott, in 1834. He was a widower 
 with one son, Joe. He took his bride to Greenville, 
 Pitt Countj^, and there in our comfortable home, seven 
 years after their marriage, I was born. There was great 
 rejoicing at my birth, but much disappointment at the 
 sex. I had been long desired, and my father thought a 
 son of my mother's would be something very extra. 
 
 When I was three weeks old I was taken very ill, 
 and the nevv^ found treasure was nursed almost to the 
 loss of my mother's life. She was always delicate. 
 I never remember her except as an invalid. 
 
 The question of providing nourishment was a serious 
 one, and every day the carriage was brought out and 
 John sent into the country seven miles to a friend's farm, 
 who loaned a wet nurse. Finally Amy, one of our own 
 servants, was brought up from ''Woodlawn'', our planta- 
 tion half way between Greenville and Washington, bring- 
 ing her baby ''Hannah" with her. Amy was never 
 allowed to do any farm work after this, and Hannah was 
 reared in the house and made a pet of. I lived very 
 happily in Greenville the earlier years of my life. Until 
 I was twelve years old I had a grown nurse, ''Maria", 
 "Mamy Ria" I always called her. She had a daughter 
 "Rose'', whom she would take behind the chicken-coop, 
 and beat when she got mad, and I was in perfect agony 
 until it was over. Maria and Hollon were sisters, and 
 were most faithful, capable servants. We took first one 
 and then the other on our trips. 
 
 I was very delicate the first seven years of my life, 
 
4 
 
 s^BLud during stormy days, and sometimes days of sunshine, 
 >S I was confined to the house. Many a book of pictures 
 iy^^ have I literally worn out. Especiallj^ do I remember 
 ^© Dickens 'Tive Sisters of York''. 
 
 CO 
 
 ^ ''Ma was a handsome woman, five feet seven inches 
 
 s^in height, very dignified and courteous in her bearing. 
 
 She had blue eyes, a straight nose, and an abundance of 
 
 x^ auburn hair. Her family had this color of hair, and 
 
 0^ when they were children were called ''The Woodpecker's 
 
 >*s Nest". She dressed with beautiful taste, and entertained 
 
 . wdth lavish hand, had an abundance of this v/orld's goods, 
 
 ♦ and gave generously. 
 
 Our home in Greenville was situated on a large 
 square of ground, and to my childish eyes it was a para- 
 dise. It was an old fashioned comfortable house, with a 
 double piazza in front, and a large parlor on one side, 
 over-looking a flower garden, with a big tree in the middle, 
 and flowers of all kinds around. The vegetable garden 
 occupied almost a square, and was laid out in beds 
 bordered with currant and berry bushes and fruit trees. 
 
 Up in the garret was a barrel holding a most wonderful 
 "Wedding Tree", made of swiss and tinsel. I have never 
 seen anything I thought so fine. This was on the table 
 at different weddings, and occasionally I was allowed to 
 see it. 
 
 My first sorrow was the death of a red bird Joe 
 Norcott had given me. Joe was much older than I was; 
 he made a great pet of me, and was always giving me 
 presents. He gave me a large black doll. Our good cook, 
 Rachel, would get drunk occasionally. Once when she 
 was in that condition the nurse placed the doll in the walk 
 between the kitchen and the house, and you never heard 
 such screaming and yelling w^hen the old woman saw it. 
 She thought the devil had her for sure. 
 
 Joe Norcott was an exceedingly handsome man. 
 He v/as five feet eight inches, the height of our Father. 
 He had large brown eyes, brown hair, and very trim 
 figure. After he graduated from Princeton he studied 
 law under Mr. Mordecai, in Raleigh, and it was said he 
 and two other young men kept one tailor employed all 
 the time. He kept horses and a body servant, and life 
 was so easy for him that he learned to drink. He died 
 at the early age of twenty-eight years. 
 
 We left the low country in the summer, and spent the 
 months from July to October among the hills, generally 
 
going to * 'Jones" and ''Shocco" Springs in Warren 
 County. ]\Iy father's health began to fail soon after I 
 was born, and the physician advised his going to the 
 ''White Sulphur Springs" in Virginia. He began to 
 decline rapidly, and died on July 6th, 1845. Joe Norcott 
 and I walked hand in hand up the hillside to a beautifully 
 shaded cemetery, and there he was buried under a big oak 
 tree. The tomb stone was hauled from Richmond, and 
 is in a good state of preservation to this day. 
 
 I am very proud of my father's record. He was 
 what is called a "Self-made Man", and I shall be pleased 
 indeed if his descendants make as good a record. The 
 Norcotts came from Virginia at the sam.e time the 
 Grimes' did, and settled in Pitt County. They were 
 respectable people but I have not been able to trace 
 ancestry except through the Clarkson the mother's side, 
 and the Norcotts through "ff' Targe 'fortune supposed to 
 have been left them in Fredonia, N. Y. 
 
 When my father was two years old, and his sister 
 Ann six months, his father vras killed by a man nam.ed 
 Moore. He, hoping to better himself, had bought a 
 plantation near Fayetteville, and was on his way to pay 
 for it. The young man Moore asked to accompany him. 
 The first day Moore would ride up suddenly from behind, 
 and Mr. William Norcott would look to see what was the 
 matter. This became so frequent that he ceased to gaze 
 backward, so Moore rode up suddenly and with a club 
 knocked him from his horse, and killed him. The next 
 day some hunters found the dead body beside a ditch 
 bank, and the horse quietly feeding by the side of his 
 master. The man was captured, and the money found 
 under a log in a swamp, and Ivloore suffered for his crime. 
 
 This of course left the widow and her two little helpless 
 children in a bad way, which was made worse when she 
 made a very poor match with a man named Nobles 
 by whom she had two sons. The step-father was very 
 severe to little John, so when he was ten years old he 
 ran away to Greenville, and lived with an old cousin 
 named Mrs. Polly Dancy. He worked and made friends. 
 He was a bright little fellow, and so capable that at 
 the age of eighteen he was sent in charge of a vessel 
 to the West Indies. He had to run the blockade, and 
 brave many dangers, but he was successful in bringing 
 out a cargo of rum and molasses, which netted his em- 
 ployer many thousands of dollars. 
 
After that he opened a store for general merchandise 
 in Greenville and once made a large sum in salt. He 
 bought the Woodlawn plantation of 4,000 acres, and 
 bought negroes of good character to work it. He was an 
 ardent Whig, and had great influence in the elections. 
 Twice a year my mother made out her list of all kinds of 
 delicious West India preserves, guava jellies, etc., for 
 her pantry, and sent to Nev7 York for them in the order 
 for the store. 
 
 My mother was ver}^ dignified in every way, but I 
 inherited my father's gay disposition. I have thought in 
 her management of me she did not make due allowance 
 for that, but she was always doing good. She never 
 turned a beggar from her door — she was a most faithful 
 mistress, reading her Bible and praying with her servants. 
 She had ample means, which v/ere used to the Glory of 
 God, and in charity. She was always doing for her 
 brothers and sisters. Mr. Lovejoy, who taught your 
 father and his brothers in Raleigh, first taught in Green- 
 ville. He was induced to come to Greenville through the 
 instrumentality of my father, on Joe Norcott's account. 
 Having such a good school ''Mother" took advantage of it, 
 and her sisters, Elizabeth, Susan, and Anne, and Frank 
 and Henry, her brothers, had successively, a warm 
 welcome and a happy time with her during their school 
 days. 
 
 LETTER III 
 
 We did not remain many years in our home in Green- 
 ville, but moved to Woodlav/n, and from there to dear old 
 Washington, where my happiest days v/ere passed. 
 
 I wish I could im.press upon you the delights of plan- 
 tation life during slavery. We had a great many negroes, 
 and they were all treated kindly. It was the exception 
 to hear of unkind masters. It would have been very 
 foolish to mistreat property that could be converted into 
 money. We never dreamed of being afraid, and during 
 the Civil War when the masters were at the Front we 
 have yet to hear of the first instance where the slaves 
 behaved badly. 
 
 When I was a child I had a pony, of course, but being 
 wild a gentle black mule was substituted in his place, 
 and so much pleasure was she to me that I have always 
 felt kindly disposed to the mule creation. I would get 
 
upon her back, and with several small negroes following 
 to wait on me I would fly up and down the plantation 
 roads, sometimes going by the mill and through the 
 stream, which I thought great fun. 
 
 ''Woodlawn" Plantation was so large that there were 
 many roads through it, and the negro cabins were scat- 
 tered in different convenient places. Old Cat, the 
 colored over-seer, occupied a two story house with garden 
 attached. His wife did not work in the field, but remamed 
 at home, raising poultry, vegetables, etc. for herself. 
 Old Cat came up every Saturday night to report progress. 
 He openly said he would harbor runaway slaves, and we 
 did not say anything to the contrary. Then there was 
 a long alley in which there were a dozen cabins, shady 
 trees, and a well of delicious cool water. Old Aunt 
 Rachel occupied the middle cabin, and the babies were 
 brought to her in the morning to take care of while the 
 m.others worked in the fields. I used to go down and 
 nurse them by the hour, taking first one and then another 
 from the cradle. All the cabins had gardens attached, 
 and there was a large place where rutabaga and collards 
 were planted. These the servants were at liberty to 
 help themselves to. Sunday they always had a fine 
 dinner, often company from the neighboring farms, and 
 a nice fat chicken graced every table. The looms were 
 kept busy all the time. I wish I could show you the 
 heavy woolen cloth woven. The home-spun was bought 
 by the bolt. I watched the flats loaded with ^ corn 
 and cotton from the big barn. I was ''Little Missis" to 
 all of them, and it is a wonder I did not get spoilt with so 
 much attention, but I was so full of life I could not take 
 time for adulation. What a time I had rolling down 
 great hills of cotton seed! And getting the driver to let 
 me drive the mules around the gin! And how we did 
 enjoy ''hog killing" and sausage making! Great pots of 
 lard in the yard cooking, great blocks of wood with meat 
 on them, and women chopping up sausage meat! We 
 had no cutters in those days! Then sheep shearing, 
 and watching the looms weave thick woolen cloth for 
 the hands! But of all times on a plantation Christmas 
 is the best. ■ 
 
 Not being strong enough to manage so large a planta- 
 tion my mother hired out the able bodied men, about 
 thirty or more, to work in the turpentine forests of 
 Georgia, receiving from two hundred and fifty to three 
 hundred dollars apiece for them for a year. They 
 
returned at Christmas, dressed in very fine clothes, 
 alvv'ays with a watch and chain, and money in their 
 pockets, made from doing extra work. Their sweet- 
 hearts and wives were ready to receive them, and they 
 often frohcked all night long. 
 
 ]\Iy pleasure was greatly lessened by having no 
 companions. I dug up the parsley bed looking for a 
 little brother, and kept old Jack, the carpenter, in a 
 constant state of misery by dulling his hatchet in digging 
 at old hollow stumps looking for the same baby, but I 
 never found one. As soon as I heard of the advent of a 
 little darky down I went and begged to be allowed to 
 name it, which request was often granted, and that is 
 the way I learned to sew, by making clothes for them. 
 
 Sometimes we would row down Trantus Creek in our 
 large boat, which Tony, our milk and butter man, had 
 charge of. This was a lovely row from ''Woodlawn'' to 
 the Grist Farm, and we would spend the night there, 
 and have a gay time with the Grist children with games 
 and dances. 
 
 I was so happy in Washington. My teacher was 
 Mrs. Worthington. I was very quick about everj^thing 
 but arithmetic. She seemed to think I was a wild child, 
 as indeed I was. I loved to play with the boys, and 
 such nice boys they were. Johnnie and Jimmy Hoyt, 
 Allen and Wily Grist, Adam Tredwell, Jimmie and Willie 
 Howard — Jimmy Howard was killed in the war, and the 
 others have paid the debt I shall soon have to pay. 
 Sallie Howard was three weeks older than I, and Oh! 
 what an unfortunate three weeks! I had to give way on 
 all occasions. My dear friend married as I did and had 
 a large family. She left us a few years ago, but I had 
 the comfort of seeing her several tim_es during her last 
 illness. 
 
 Often on bright beautiful Saturdays Tony would 
 come wath his boat, then ma, a crowd of girls, and I 
 would go and spend the day at Woodlawn. A carriage 
 would meet us at the landing, and such a busy, happy 
 tirne we would have fixing the lunch and so on. The 
 dairy, which stood under a huge oak tree, near the ''Great 
 House" door was full of milk, butter and cream, and this 
 was freely given us. Oh! the charming plantation days, 
 never to return! Oh! the tender friendship between 
 servant and master, so little understood! 
 
 10 
 
LETTER IV 
 
 I don't believe any modern watering place can compare 
 to the old fashioned ''Jones" and ''Shocco'' Springs in 
 Warren County. The refined, agreeable company one 
 met there, and the highbred women, one does not always 
 meet with these days. 
 
 Frank Johnson's band was a feature of the place. 
 He was a wonderful musician, and had seven sons equally 
 gifted. He was a slave and hired his time. I think I 
 can hear his ''Swing Corners", "Ladies to the right," 
 "Sashae all of you". 
 
 My mother and Mrs. Howard were handsome widows 
 and great friends. They were always together. Ma 
 had a number of offers of marriage, and sometimes the 
 beaux would make me the medium of tender messages. 
 One, a Dr. Green made quite a pet of me. Oscar Alston 
 would come to the Springs, and put a table on the lawn, 
 and display his toys and candy. So on one occasion 
 when he had done this I saw Dr. Green pass and asked 
 him for some candy. He gave it, of course, but I had no 
 sooner put the candy into my mouth when it began to 
 taste bitter. I knew what to expect from my mother 
 when she found out what I had done, and I was not 
 disappointed. 
 
 This Oscar Alston was a remarkable negro, as was also 
 Frank Johnson. Oscar married and had a large family. 
 He sent his children to Ohio to be educated. One, a son, 
 was an Episcopal clergyman. The girls were taught music, 
 and when I was six years old my mother spent three months 
 in Philadelphia under Dr. Hodge, Bettie Alston went as 
 our maid, and we got to respect the Alstons very much. 
 
 There was a scuppernong vine covering two acres at 
 Jones Springs. I have never tasted such delicious grapes. 
 But once they were not so good. I had on a pretty new 
 dress, and was on the top of the arbor when I tore my 
 dress so badly that not even my faithful Hollon could 
 mend it. I had on a lovely white dress on another 
 occasion which Hollon had spent weeks in making; the 
 insertion put in by "Ladder stitch" and "Herring bone". 
 Mother was already in the carriage at Jones Springs, to 
 return to Shocco Springs, six miles off (we were spending 
 the day at Jones Springs), when I could not be found. 
 Finally I was discovered, playing on an old brush heap 
 over an unused v/ell, and the beautiful dress torn all to 
 pieces. You can well imagine I was silent during the 
 homeward drive. 
 
 11 
 
LETTER V 
 
 ^^Tien I was thirteen years old my mother married 
 Mr. S. B. Carraway of Monticello Plantation, ten miles 
 from Kinston. He lived four years, and most of that 
 time I was away at boarding school but passed my 
 winter vacations at Monticello, and my summers at 
 Brandon, our summer home seven miles from Raleigh. 
 My step-father was very kind to me, as was also his son 
 Willie, sixteen years old. We both had beautiful ponies, 
 and the long delightful rides we took, generally getting up 
 at five o'clock in the morning, and coming home to a 
 breakfast of fruit, berries, broiled chicken, waffles, beaten 
 biscuit, such as no one but a Southern Cook can make. 
 
 Just after my mother's marriage to Mr. Carraway she 
 had a severe attack of illness, and the physician said she 
 must go to the White Sulphur Springs, the same place 
 where my father died. I knew very Httle about books, 
 having lost much time from traveHng about, so it was 
 decided not to take me. The only school open at that 
 time, July, was in Raleigh, kept by a minister and his wife. 
 It was our first parting, and we felt dreadfully. She 
 wanted to leave Hollon with me, but it was thought best 
 not to do so, so Mother in her distress asked the teacher 
 if I got sick to let her know, and if I died in no case to 
 have me buried until she arrived. 
 
 After reaching the Springs my mother had a relapse, 
 and for days her life was despaired of. Just then I 
 heard a whisper among the girls that she had told the 
 teacher something about my dying, and had even selected 
 the dress I was to wear in case such an event occurred. I 
 had been very much petted, and was very unhappy, and 
 this rumor was very painful to me. As I would take 
 each dress out of the trunk I would v/onder if that was 
 the one I should wear in my coffin. The whole trouble 
 was that the teacher had received the impression that we 
 were only using her school as a convenience, and was 
 much incensed at the idea. She wrote a letter that she 
 wished me to be removed as I was disorderly. My 
 mother had returned then, and it was only a few weeks 
 before the closing of school. She handed the letter to 
 her husband, who was a good man, and he read it to me. 
 I began to cry and begged him to reserve the letter, and 
 send it when I went home, as I feared for the consequence 
 to Mother in her enfeebled condition. I think he was 
 very glad to do this, and in a few days when I returned 
 home a complimentary letter was written. I was then 
 
 12 
 
sent to the Richmond Female Institute, and I spent three 
 years there very happily — made friends with teachers and 
 pupils. But the person who had most influence over me, 
 and had more to do with moulding my character after 
 my mother was an English lady named Kingsford, who 
 had a select school in Washington, D. C. This school 
 was limited to twenty boarders and the same number of 
 day scholars. I was so happy at this school; I formed so 
 many charming acquaintances and friends. I correspon- 
 ded with some of them for many years. We were allowed 
 to visit one Saturday in each month. I certainly enjoyed 
 that. Then we went to President Buchannan's **Levees", 
 and to the Capitol, and other places of interest, and took 
 long walks in every part of the city. 
 
 I always had a sweetheart on hand. I recall one, 
 Johnny Potts, with whom I was much in love. When I 
 was about ten years old he sent me flowers every week, 
 and strange to say I never see a white narcissus now but 
 his pleasant face rises before me. He was killed in our 
 Civil War. Then I fell much in love with a nephew of 
 Mr. Corcoran, the Washington banker; quite as much as 
 David Copperfield was with Dora. Even the sun shone 
 brighter when this Sweetheart was by. 
 
 We had a teacher at this school, a Mrs. Thompson, a 
 tall, gawky graduate of Vassar. She could do nothing 
 with these bright Southern girls. What jokes we did 
 play upon her! One night when Mrs. Kingsford was 
 gone we put paper over our combs, and gave out the most 
 wild music. The faster we played the madder she got. 
 She had a time with the girls and their sweethearts. 
 One night we got nicely caught. The boys (Columbia 
 students) were serenading us, and singing ''Star of the 
 Evening, Beautiful Star" and ''Annie Laurie'', and so on. 
 W^e were at the window making frantic efforts to wave, 
 when the door opened, and in walked Madam Kingsford! 
 Silence was supreme, and then we all made a rush for our 
 beds. Fanny Fox, my bed-fellow, popped in too hurriedly, 
 and the slats fell out of the bed on to the floor with such 
 a crash! This friend of mine was from Mississippi, and 
 hved next door to Jacob Thompson, then Secretary of 
 the Interior, and residing at that time in Washington. 
 They had an only son, Macon, a very nice boy, but much 
 disfigured by being salivated when a little fellow. His 
 mouth was all twisted, and he was compelled to eat with 
 his fingers. He never had been in love with anyone but 
 this girl, and after she left school he married her, and 
 
 13 
 
Kate Thompson, their daughter was one of the most 
 beautiful women in the south. 
 
 I can never forget Mrs. Kingsford's pie plant and 
 rhubarb pies, especially as each pie was cut into eight 
 pieces, the old doctor refusing to make them larger. 
 Nor can I ever forget her plum puddings, which were 
 dehcious. She had an English recipe, from which she 
 would not part. She always made twelve, and we had 
 one every Sunday. 
 
 The box I received from home that Christmas was 
 something to be remembered. Gold and silver cake, 
 fruit cake, a great package of candy, parched peanuts 
 already shelled, home made sausage, which I bribed the 
 cook to broil for me, jelly, and everything I could wish 
 for. The box lasted during the holidays, and with every 
 taste of the food I felt how rich I was in my mother's love. 
 
 Several times Mrs. Kingsford took some of the girls 
 to Baltimore to spend Sunday, and we took a never-to- 
 be-forgotten trip to Mt. Vernon on a big steamer, and 
 met a funny old preacher, who told us many things we 
 did not know. 
 
 Then our commencement at the Smnthsonian Institute, 
 where I made the one great triumph of my life, very 
 unexpected, and wholly undeserved, and due only to the 
 fact that the subject ''A peep through Time's Spy glass", 
 was a pleasant hit at the girls. Part of the program was 
 a flower play in which I was a poppy; then the prizes, in 
 which I received Jeremy Taylor's works. This was in 
 1857. 
 
 During the session my step-father died. My mother 
 and I spent the following summer very quietly and 
 pleasantly at ''Brandon" our Wake County summer home. 
 My pony ''Charlie" was a gi^eat pleasure to me. I rode 
 miles every day. In the fall we moved to New Berne 
 where we have since lived, except the four years of war. 
 
 I had a delightful winter in New Berne; was invited 
 out constantly, and had company at home. These new 
 fashioned dances were not in vogue then, I am thankful 
 to say. We danced the Virginia reel, the Cotillion, 
 waltzed, and played such as Grand Multa, stage-coach, 
 and other games, and always finished off with a delicious 
 supper. 
 
 I had met your Father at the Raleigh Fair, and had 
 engaged myself to him before the summer which Mamma 
 and I and our maid Hollon spent at the Virginia Springs. 
 
We took the South Side Raih'oad at Petersburg, and had 
 such a lovely trip viewing mountains and valleys, and 
 laughing at Hollon, who took advantage of our passing 
 through the tunnels to ''dip" her much enjoyed snuff. 
 
 First we went to the Alleghany Springs. Fortunately 
 a cadet who lived near took a fancy to me, and what 
 wonderful rides I had on his horse, raised in these 
 mountains, and he riding one equally fine. 
 
 Here we met a family named Prescott from Louisiana. 
 We all became so fond of each other that we spent the 
 whole summer together. Where my mother and I went 
 they did also. 
 
 We were enchanted with the Yellow Sulphur Springs— 
 the must lovely spot in all that lovely country, and there 
 we met a family of Prestons, native people, who had a 
 large stock farm, and entertained delightfully. The son, 
 Walter, was very fond of me, and we visited them in their 
 lovely mountain home. 
 
 I got very friendly with a gentleman from Petersburg, 
 who drove a span of spirited horses, and he allowed me 
 to drive them. The owner's name is long since forgotten, 
 but the essence of the drives rem^ains. 
 
 Louis Prescott and I had a most desperate flirtation. 
 He was engaged to a girl from Louisiana, and I to your 
 Father. He became so persistent and I so bewildered 
 had I been a Romanist I would have sought the cloisters. 
 
 In October we went to New York, and stopped in the 
 famous old St. Nicholas Hotel. This was essentially a 
 Southern Hotel, and we met many of our Springs ac- 
 quaintances. We spent some weeks in New York. 
 My mother was under the care of Dr. Bedford. How 
 happy these days were! Free from care! How thought- 
 less I was! I took pleasure in everything. I ordered my 
 bridal trousseau then, and what charms of beauty my 
 dresses were and how unconscious I was of any charm, 
 if I had any, or anything else but to be happy all the day 
 long. 
 
 LETTER VI 
 
 On November 24th, 1859 I was married in our home at 
 New Berne to your father, Henry Ravenscroft Bryan of 
 Raleigh, by the Rev. Thomas Skinner of Raleigh. We took 
 a southern bridal trip, remaining two months. ^ ''Cotton 
 was king" in those days, and we considered buying a plan- 
 tation further south, and moving out there. After looking 
 about a great deal we concluded the "Old North State" 
 
 15 
 
was good enough, especially as we encountered one of the 
 usual yearly ''freshets", and saw miles of the country 
 under water. The steamer made her way guided by the 
 trees on each side of the river. 
 
 So we returned home and with some money my dear 
 Father had left me we bought the "Clermont" plantation. 
 
 We spent several days in Memphis, going from there 
 on the Steamer Ingorma a five day's journey. There 
 were six brides and grooms along. John Hines was one 
 of the guests. He was your father's great friend, and 
 we all got very friendly, indeed. 
 
 I was much disappointed at the appearance of the 
 ''Father of Waters". It cannot compare to our own 
 beautiful Neuse. It is much narrower, deeper, and the 
 waters a cruel dark color. How many beating hearts, 
 and happy voices have been stilled beneath its waves! 
 There was an exceedingly attractive and beautiful girl 
 from South Carolina, named Victoria Jordan, in New York 
 getting her trousseau at the same time I was. She 
 followed on the same route a week later, and the steamer 
 took fire. Her husband refused to leave her, and hand 
 in hand both jumped to a watery grave. 
 
 We had a pleasant stay in New Orleans at the St. 
 Charles. We went to the French theater, and got a 
 scowl from Louis Prescott, who occupied a seat near, 
 saw the slave market, and the levees. The river being 
 higher than the surrounding ground is kept in place by 
 huge embankments, which require constant watchfulness, 
 and much labor. 
 
 The trip from New Orleans by boat to Mobile was very 
 interesting. We passed the place on which the island 
 stood many years before, which was destroyed by a tidal 
 wave. The large hotel was filled with guests; it was a 
 gala night, there was dancing and revelry in the building. 
 The dancers noticed the planks of the floor begin to move, 
 the water to cover their feet, and before morning there 
 was not a sign of hotel or guest; all had disappeared; 
 beautiful girls, babies, mothers, all answered the last call 
 before the morning light. 
 
 I was charmed with Mobile — wide shady streets, and 
 the glimmering bay in the distance; the sunshine and 
 flowers, and sweet shady homes. I saw Edith Whitfield 
 here. Afterwards she married a Yankee General. 
 
 The trip up the Alabama and Tombigbee Rivers was 
 also full of interest. We stopped at Selma, Montgomery, 
 
 16 
 
and with your father's sister Mrs. Speight, who lived on a 
 large plantation with her husband. We also stopped at 
 Demopolis, and made General Nathan and Gaius Whitfield 
 a visit. Everything was in grand style, and they treated us 
 royally. Gen'l Whitfield was a musicial genius, and had 
 invented a huge kind of piano which sounded something 
 like a calliope. 
 
 But after awhile our pleasant visit ended, and we 
 returned home, had a reception, and settled down to the 
 every day life of married people. 
 
 On October 3rd, 1860 my little boy, John Norcott, was 
 born. I was delighted with the little fellow. He filled 
 out my measure of love. We had ''Mammy Ria" to 
 nurse him, and I stood over the crib in admiration, as 
 did also my mother and ''Mammy Ria''. We watched 
 each smile and look of love; watched his development, 
 and thought him a most wonderful child. My mother 
 sent to New York and bought him a most beautiful 
 white embroidered cloak and cap. Your father had his 
 crib made in Baltimore. Mr. Seth Atmore gave him a 
 silver cup, which was stolen during the war, and after 
 many years recovered. His baby carriage was on the 
 last boat to arrive before the blockade. 
 
 The winter of 1861 was a most anxious one. We 
 could not tell what would be the result of so much agita- 
 tion. In the meantime your father was making 
 "Clermont" a model farm. A number of nice houses were 
 built, the fine brick residence repaired, stock of every 
 kind bought, and a large crop of corn and cotton planted. 
 The product of the first year would have been 300 bales 
 of cotton and 1,000 barrels of corn, besides peas, potatoes, 
 etc. All this, of course, involved great expense, which 
 could have been easily paid from the first year's produce, 
 but the Yankees took New Berne, and we had to abandon 
 our farm. We lost everything. The negroes were freed, 
 the houses burnt, the brick house, which was built of 
 bricks brought from England, pulled down, trees cut 
 down, and the plantation left a barren wilderness. The 
 cotton was used as a barricade at Union Point, the corn 
 fed the Yankee soldiers, and our legacy was debts. 
 
 My mother had a long attack of illness this winter, 
 and our chief pleasure was in watching the development 
 of my little son. 
 
 George Bryan was stationed in New Berne at this time, 
 and stayed with us. We learned to love and appreciate 
 his beautiful Christian character. In July '61 ma, 
 
 17 
 
Baby, "Mammy Ria" and I went to KittrelFs Springs 
 near Raleigh for several weeks. George was at training 
 camp three miles from there, and we saw a great deal of 
 him. He was one of the bravest, and gentlest boys I 
 ever knew. He had graduated at Chapel Hill at the age 
 of eighteen, and had immediately been offered a Greek 
 tutorship. He gave this up to become a lieutenant in 
 the Confederate Cavalry. He would often ride from his 
 camp to the springs, and spend an hour with us. Often 
 when I went to _my room at night, after having danced 
 all the evening in the ball-room my mother would say: 
 *'We also have had a pleasant visit. George has been here". 
 
 We stopped a little while at Wake Forest, and came 
 home to find affairs still more unsettled. Your father 
 concluded it was useless to try to make another crop, so 
 early in '62 he took a good many of the negroes to Wake 
 County. In March things were so threatening it was 
 thought best for as many of the women and children to 
 leave as could conveniently do so. We packed up some 
 bedding, trunks, etc., and went to Company Shops, now 
 called Burhngton. We left our homes handsomely 
 furnished, a year's provisions in the pantry and smoke- 
 house, cordials, wines, preserves, pickles, smoked hams, 
 and an abundance of everything, bed clothes, table Hnen, 
 and everything required for a home including a handsome 
 book-case filled with all kinds of books. The furniture 
 and many other things were sent north by the soldiers, 
 a package of love letters opened, read and laughed at. 
 
 We had two bed-rooms on the front of the house at 
 Burhngton, looking over the piazza and railroad tracks. 
 Our excess baggage was stored somewhere. My mother, 
 always an invahd, was taken very ill when we got to the 
 Shops, and the baby took the whooping cough on the 
 cars, which was followed by measles and then slow fever, 
 which ended his life when he was twenty-one months old, 
 July 8th, 1862. He was buried in the cemetery at Greens- 
 boro, and we have never been able to find the sacred 
 ashes, so much burying there during the war. 
 
 Burlington was a pleasant country village, and 
 Fannie was born there. I had my bed placed by the 
 window so I could look out and many a sad sight have I 
 witnessed — one poor boy, every bone in his body crushed 
 in a mill nearby was brought and placed under the 
 railroad shelter. His heart-broken mother stood over 
 him until the end came. 
 
 After we all got better we went to Lexington, and 
 
 18 
 
stayed several months. The refugees in some instances 
 were not cordially received by the up-country people, 
 and had it not been for the yellow fever, which was so 
 fatal in New Berne in 1863 it would have been better for us 
 to have remained at home. 
 
 LETTER VII 
 
 After Norcott's death, and so much sickness and 
 trouble, we determined to get nearer home, so as we 
 could not rent a house in Raleigh we went to your Grand- 
 father Bryan's little farm four miles from there. The 
 house was a log cabin with a shed, and a small piazza in 
 front, with a half -story over the main room. My dear 
 mother occupied this little room and it soon partook of 
 her presence. The white pine table standing between 
 two little four pane windows had a dimity cover, her 
 wrapper and slippers nearby, her Bible and "Jay" on a 
 stand near the bed, her sweet individuality was always 
 felt. I loved to go to her room and converse with her. 
 
 I rather liked this country life. We had daily com- 
 munication with town. News of terrible battles in which 
 our friends and relatives were either wounded or killed 
 kept us very unhappy. Your father could not fight in 
 the war ownng to a physical disability, but he was heart 
 and soul with the ''Lost Cause", and aided in every way. 
 Indeed, when my mother with her strong business sense 
 suggested converting the negroes into real estate he 
 offered objections, so we ''risked all, and lost all". We 
 cut our carpets up and sent them to the soldiers, and 
 comforts and blankets, and we were always doing some- 
 thing for them. My mother, and your grandmother 
 Bryan knitted numberless pairs of socks. Their busy 
 fingers were always at work. I made a good deal of 
 money myself, of which I was very proud. I had a fine 
 suit of brown homespun, woven in our loom. I had some 
 bolts of yellow homespun, which I exchanged to great 
 advantage. I made neck ties and fancy things and sold 
 them, and often had several thousand dollars in Con- 
 federate money in my purse. I cut a Marshall's badge 
 used at Chapel Hill and made money out of that. I had 
 a last, and made Fannie many, many pairs of shoes — out 
 of goat skin, bound with ribbon. I dressed her very fine 
 out of my scrap trunk. She had pretty curls so attracted 
 attention. 
 
 One night at the plantation we had a fearful experience. 
 My mother came down from her little upstairs room, 
 
 19 
 
and waked us up saying she heard strange noises in the 
 yard. The negroes were having a gay time singing 
 ''Hurrah! Hurrah! we are free, we are free!'' swinging 
 hands and dancing around the tree, and we thought we 
 heard the fife and drum. We got up, dressed quickly, 
 made a fire in the huge fire-place, covered up the four- 
 pane windows, and sat down to wait developments. Noth- 
 ing happened, and morning dawned bright and rosy with 
 no evidence of the night of mortal agony we had passed 
 through. We found the negroes were having an unusual 
 time with their neighbors and had enjoyed their frohc 
 irnxUiensely. The fife we heard was the creaking of the 
 well bucket in drawing water. 
 
 Generally once a week your grandfather and grand- 
 mother Bryan spent the day with us. My dear mother 
 enjoyed their company very much. We had plenty of 
 visitors in our log cabin home. We bought some coffee 
 and sugar which we doled out, substituting parched rye 
 and sweet potatoes ground up. We resorted to all kinds 
 of things to make good things to eat and used so much 
 sorghum I can't bear the taste of it to this day. Our 
 most frequent visitor was Fred, "Freddie" as his family 
 called him. He was your father's youngest brother, and 
 a likable, intelhgent, handsome lad. He and my mother 
 played back-gammon by the hour — a fine game but not 
 much in vogue now. Fred before this had been sent to 
 Col. Tew's school in Hillsboro, but the ^ hard barracks 
 life was too much for his delicate constitution, and he 
 contracted diabetes. He then went to Chapel Hill, the 
 last of eight brothers who had graduated there with 
 distinction. He easily took first honors, but his health 
 failed so that his parents brought him home. This was 
 in the height of the war and proper medicines could not 
 be procured. He continued his studies under good old 
 Dr. Mason, and it was then that we saw so much of him. 
 He was very fond of coming to the farm, and spending 
 several days at a time. 
 
 We finally found a four-room cottage in Raleigh, and 
 moved there, where we saw much more of Fred. 
 
 War seemed to derange every part of society. Carnage 
 and death in the army — sickness and trouble at home. 
 Scarlet fever then broke out in the country and got among 
 our negroes. At that particular time your father was 
 ill in bed, and my dear mother was visiting her sister in 
 Halifax. I was sitting by the fire, holding Fannie, a 
 baby of eight months, in my lap, when Oily, one of the 
 
 20 
 
servants, came in with a sick baby to be doctored. I put 
 my little girl down, and took this one in my arms, and 
 just as I did so it died. Oily screamed. I was completely 
 unnerved, and felt I should lose Fannie also, as I had lost 
 Norcott. The little negro child had died of scarlet fever. 
 We immediately called up Stephen and sent him to 
 Raleigh to find a boarding house. There were children 
 at the Bryan home, so we could not take a scarlet fever 
 suspect there. Stephen returned at night fall, un- 
 successful. 
 
 The next morning the horses were put to the carriage, 
 and brought to the door. I hastily packed some things 
 in my portmanteau, and with nurse and baby started out, I 
 knew not where. I passed through Raleigh, and took 
 the road to Wake Forrest. My kind aunt Sue Cobb was 
 *'refugeeing'' four miles from the college. I was going 
 to continue my journey until someone took me in. When 
 I drew up to her door I sent for her to come to the carriage, 
 and explained the situation. She also had children, but 
 before I finished her kind arms were outstretched, and 
 her sweet voice bade me welcome. I shut the baby and 
 nurse up for several days, and as no scarlet fever developed 
 we became quite gay, and had a charming visit. We 
 had several notes for small sums which Dr. Cobb owed us. 
 These I gladly sent with my letter of thanks. 
 
 We found the four-room cottage which we took in 
 Raleigh, better than the log cabin. We had to build a 
 log pantry, and the kitchen was on the next lot. The 
 Legislature was in session that winter, and you would be 
 surprised at the number we stowed away on a cot in the 
 parlor. 
 
 There had been a terrible battle at Gettysburg, and 
 our bravest and best fell like sheep. Collin Hughes, 
 Jacob Brooksfield, Harry Burgwyn, Jimmy Howard, and 
 many others of our friends were killed or desperately 
 wounded. James and Sam Biddle were doing valiant 
 service in Virginia. George Bryan was taken prisoner. 
 He had received a severe wound in the head, and was left 
 for dead on the field; he crav/led under a stone wall, and 
 was there captured by a Yankee soldier, and taken to 
 Washington, D. C, and put in prison. He suffered a 
 great deal with his head, and portions of the bone were 
 taken out. Some kind ladies sent him flowers. He was 
 next^ taken to Johnson's Island. He passed through 
 Baltimore, but was not allowed to speak to his brother, 
 William Shepard Bryan, who lived there. The prison 
 
 21 
 
was on an inhospitable island in Lake Erie. It was 
 made of boards running up and down, and the bleak 
 wind whistled through them. George would have suc- 
 cumbed to the cold had it not been for a very heavy 
 overcoat his brother Frank sent him, which he wore day 
 and night. There was a small stove in the middle of the 
 room, with bunks built all around the sides. Some of 
 the prisoners sat near the stove, others sat on a bench 
 a little further removed, and still others would walk 
 around until the first were warmed. If there was an 
 unusually warm spell the men made pillows of sticks of 
 wood, v/hich were burnt when it grew colder. The fare 
 was miserable. Joe Hellen told m.e he saw two soldiers 
 fight over a beef bone until one killed the other. 
 
 All these troubles had produced softening of the brain 
 in your grandfather. Charlotte Grimes lost her little 
 baby, and was constantly anxious about her husband, 
 General Bryan Grimes. He was in the front everywhere; 
 was said to be the hero of a hundred battles. Mr. 
 Speight had his only son killed in a skirmish, and he 
 himself died at Bladen Springs, Alabama in 1863. Your 
 cousin, Gen'l Johnston Pettigrew, had been killed at Fal- 
 ling Waters and every day we received an account of the 
 wounding or death of some dear acquaintance or friend. 
 
 Freddie faded day by day. He was the ''Benjamin" 
 of his family, and everybody was tender and kind to him, 
 but the disease could not be controlled, and he passed 
 into the ''Great Beyond" when he was seventeen years old. 
 
 Fabius Haywood was a prisoner at Johnson's Island 
 at the time George was. His mother wrote him Fred 
 was dead, and it was several days before George was 
 allowed to speak to Haywood to ascertain which one of 
 his brothers it was. 
 
 Five months after this my dear son was born, and I 
 gladly named him Fred for his gifted young uncle. 
 
 LETTER VIII 
 
 Efforts were being made to get George exchanged. 
 I begged he might remain where he was, although un- 
 comfortable. He was safe, but he was finally exchanged, 
 and we were very proud of this soldier boy, so tall and 
 handsome in the beautiful Confederate uniform, trimmed 
 with gold braid and bright brass buttons, and a black 
 plume in his hat. Well might his family rejoice at such 
 a son. We tenderly lifted the brown hair, and gazed at 
 
 22 
 
the wound a little to the right side of his head. It was as 
 long as a finger, and as wide, and the bone had been shot 
 away. Coming into a hot climate the sun affected the 
 place. In vain we appealed to Dr. Johnson to give him 
 a home appointment during the summer, but he would not. 
 He was as merciless to his own son-in-law. George was 
 sent to Richmond to fight in the battles which were 
 raging around there. He met with action, was taken 
 sick, and sent into a hospital, from which he issued on 
 that fatal 16th day of August 1864. He mounted his 
 black horse and rode to death, being shot by a mmne 
 ball just over the heart. He fell from his horse ex- 
 claiming ''I am killed, boys, but we have taken the 
 works". The telegram arrived about dinner time, and 
 such a grief stricken family. Your father went on for 
 the remains. Mr. Patterson, a clergyman accompanied 
 him to the battle-field. There in a corner of the fence, 
 with his oil coat and only six inches of dirt to cover 
 him, with only the birds to sing a requiem, and the leaves 
 to wave in pity, lay one of the bravest hearts that offered 
 up a life for a lost but true cause. He was brought home 
 and tenderly laid by the side of his young brother. 
 
 About this time we found another house in Raleigh, 
 more convenient, opposite the Episcopal Church, and we 
 lived there until after the surrender. 
 
 Timies became more gloomy, and when the poor little 
 Junior Reserves, boys of sixteen, v/ere drafted, I lost 
 heart. It certainly was pitiful to see the dear boys, so 
 hopeful and glad, drilling, and marching so proudly to 
 the tune of ''Dixie", some of them never to return to 
 their mothers and homes. 
 
 Raleigh was filled with soldiers and the churches and 
 every available space were turned into hospitals. Being 
 nearest I visited the wounded at the Episcopal Church. 
 Many poor men were on the narrow benches, some in 
 high delirium, some with broken bones, som^e even in the 
 agony of death. A young soldier of New Orleans died 
 just then. None knew his name. As the coffin was about 
 to be closed over the face of "Somebody's darhng," an old 
 lady shpped forward and said "Let me kiss him. for his 
 mother". There was a profound silence and in every 
 eye a tear. 
 
 Volumes could be written of pathetic and heart rending 
 incidents during our four years civil war. Death hung 
 like a heavy pall over us, food and clothes scarce, and the 
 merciless foe still killing our men. 
 
 23 
 
Although we were becoming less hopeful, yet the fall 
 of the Confederacy was unexpected at last. I can never 
 forget the day we heard the sad news. It was after 
 breakfast — a bright day. A number of ladies and children 
 had collected in the public square around the capitol in 
 Raleigh. We had heard so many disquieting rumors that 
 to remain at home was impossible. Suddenly there was 
 a great commotion. Some one said: ''Lee has sur- 
 dered". Such consternation on the faces of the people! 
 Then as the news became more general such weeping and 
 wringing of hands! Such heavy hearts! Privation, sor- 
 row, death, and now defeat and poverty! 
 
 Soon our own troops began to pass through; weary, 
 dirty, hungry fellows. Everyone that could, fed them. 
 They were not allowed to stop, but as they passed our gate 
 we handed them bread and ham. They were marching 
 to the tune of ''Dixie", the war song that we vainly 
 thought was to lead them to victory. As our soldiers 
 retreated the Yankees pursued. One reckless Confederate 
 captain from Georgia was in the rear guard. He turned 
 and fired on a soldier, then put spurs to his horse, and 
 would have escaped but the horse stumbled and fell, 
 and he was captured. The next m.orning under a guard 
 of soldiers I saw him carried by our house to a field back 
 of your grandfather's home, and hung to the limb of a 
 tree under which your uncles and aunts had played in 
 childhood. 
 
 My mother was very ill at this time. I had to pass 
 to her room from mine through a passage-way that had a 
 glass door at the end. It was about three o'clock in the 
 night when she called me. I glanced toward the door, 
 and peeping through was the face of a red-haired Yankee 
 soldier. I was frightened so I could hardly stand, and 
 I cannot recollect to this day, which door I finally opened. 
 
 We have cause to be proud of the war record of my 
 cousins, James and Sam Biddle. Sam entered the army 
 at the age of seventeen as a private, and finally ended as 
 Captain. He was in the battle of New Berne, and was 
 promoted for gallantry on the field. Jimmy belonged to 
 the First Regiment of North Carolina, and fought through 
 the whole four years of the war. He was in General 
 Lee's army under Stuart, and Wade Hampton. He was 
 in the battles around Richmond. His command fired the 
 last gun in the war. He was promoted from private to 
 lieutenant. He was in several raids around Martinsburg 
 
and Winchester, and on one occasion his commander 
 captured 2,900 cattle. 
 
 We had begun to get quite comfortably fixed in our 
 home when Raleigh was captured. We had to ask for a 
 guard or our house would have been sacked; as it was 
 everything was taken that could be. Our fine cow was 
 killed, and only a beef-steak cut from her, also our nice 
 horse, leaving a colt, which we fed from a bottle. Every- 
 thing from our small farm near Raleigh was gone, and 
 the negroes free, of course. With two little children I had 
 my hands full. I had to accept a lot of rails which were 
 stolen from someone's fence. I had a good garden, and 
 sold ten dollars worth of vegetables which I gave to your 
 father to return to New Berne to see if anything was left. 
 The first thing he did was to get Mr. John C. Washington 
 of Kinston, an old and influential citizen out of jail. 
 
 We returned home in the Fall and boarded on George 
 Street, near the old Palace stables, now a comfortable 
 residence. I had no housekeeping to do, the winter was 
 mild, and I spent most of it taking walks with the children. 
 
 We returned to Raleigh for the summer, and then 
 settled permanently the following fall in New Berne 
 paying eighty dollars a month for our house. 
 
 LETTER IX 
 
 In January my pretty name-sake, Minnie, was born, 
 and that winter Judge Bryan and family of Baltimore 
 spent six weeks with us. As things were prosperous 
 with us then we kept carriage and horses. The horses 
 were named Hampton and Ashby after the Confederate 
 Generals. Stephen, our old driver had charge, and 
 Nellie, who also had belonged to us, was nurse. We 
 moved aeain to another house, and it was here that 
 Sam Biddle died. After going through the war with such 
 credit he succumed to malarial fever after only a few days 
 illness. His father. Colonel Samuel Simpson Biddle, was 
 the gentlest and kindest of men. I have the most 
 pleasant recollections of him during my childhood. 
 Just after we returned to New Berne at the close of the 
 war I was told of a dream a northern soldier had about 
 the brick house on the Clermont plantation. In colonial 
 times the place belonged to Madam Moore; the house 
 was a very grand mansion for those days. Madam 
 Moore was said to have married three times, once for 
 love, once for money, and once for ambition. She was a 
 great ''Lady''; had a row boat, manned by six oarsmen 
 
 25 
 
dressed in livery to row her to New Berne. She went 
 to the Episcopal Church, and had what is called a ''Stall". 
 Washington and Monroe occupied seats in this stall when 
 they came to New Berne. This plantation afterwards be- 
 longed to the Speights. Two governors of North Carolina 
 are buried there. But for the dream — this soldier, who 
 had just arrived from New York had never seen this place. 
 He, in his dream, saw the house clearly before his eyes, 
 and was told to go into the cellar and look behind a loose 
 brick in the fire-place and he would see a key; to take 
 the key— at this point his dream was inteiTupted, but he 
 was so impressed by what he had felt that he obtained 
 permission to visit the place, and found everything 
 exactly as he had dream.ed. The story is this, that the 
 key unlocked a strong box beneath the cellar bricks, in 
 which valuables were kept. There were no banks when 
 this house was built, and rich people had to m.ake a place 
 for money, jewels, etc. 
 
 There is an incident which I desire you to remember 
 in these pages. The capture of New Berne was sudden 
 at the end. Fighting was on the Beaufort road, and our 
 soldiers were in that direction. Word was received to 
 prepare extra food as our soldiers would be tired and 
 hungry. So there were very few homes in which extra 
 dinners were not being cooked. Just at dinner time, 
 however, the tide turned, and the town was flooded with 
 Yankee soldiers ready to eat all the good things prepared 
 for our men. Many of the people were so frightened 
 they ran out of their homes, and left the doors wide open, 
 and I hear the enemy had a royal feast. Everything was 
 at the mercy of the foe. Our home, of course, shared the 
 same fate, and in their madness books and furniture were 
 scattered around. Our large family bible was picked up 
 by a sailor who took it to New Jersey, and it was put on 
 a shelf at his house where it remained many years. His 
 sister was librarian in a nearby town, and persuaded him 
 to find the owners. A number of letters were written 
 and finally one fell into my hands. I wrote and received 
 the book, and have given it to my grandson. Jack London. 
 This was fifty years after the war. 
 
 Reconstruction times were horrible in every way. 
 Your father had begun to practice law, but it was hard 
 work to make both ends meet. I had been reared so 
 luxuriously I did not know where to begin. The greatest 
 heartache of this trying time was caused by the fact that 
 my feeble mother needed many things I could not afford 
 
 20 
 
to give. Without my knowledge she sold a beautiful 
 woven white bedspread with hand-made fringe, to an old 
 auctioneer for $5.00. It would easily bring a hundred in 
 the northern markets. One day I went to see an old colored 
 woman, Lucinda Stanley. She had been old Eubank's 
 cook and had fallen heir to this spread. She was a 
 very respectful, humble servant, and I have always liked 
 her. She gave this spread to my great grand-daughter, 
 Frances Claypoole, being the fourth in name from my 
 mother, and when Lucinda had the little girl hold out her 
 arms and receive the gift I was touched beyond measure. 
 Tears came unbidden to my eyes when I thought of what 
 we had gone through, and what self denial we had prac- 
 tised, and after fifty years I had learned of this piece of 
 sacrifice on the part of my mother. 
 
 The after effects of the war were as trying as the war 
 itself. We moved several times, and at last bought a 
 home and were very glad to move there. My little 
 family consisted of Fannie, Fred, Minnie and Henry, 
 and in 1871 my blue-eyed son Shepard entered the family. 
 When Henry was three months old we moved to this 
 house, and have lived here ever since. The cedar trees 
 in the yard, and the beautiful river in front, and the 
 happy voices of children were a part of our life. Kate, 
 Margaret and Isabel completed our dear family circle. 
 
 I had a fall before Norcott's birth, and sometimes it 
 was quite painful. I had no comfortable rocking chair, 
 which troubled my mother not a little. On the morning 
 of one of my birthdays I found a nice sewing chair, 
 which in her pleasant way, she presented to me. Tears 
 sprang to my eyes, and I exclaimed ''Oh! Why did you 
 disfurnish yourself". She had a gold chain several times 
 more valuable than the chair, which she had taken to 
 the cabinet maker, and he very willingly made the 
 exchange. 
 
 After I had been married ten years I lost my mother — 
 the most intelligent, affectionate, patient counsellor that 
 ever an impulsive warm hearted daughter had. I felt 
 our home was especially blessed having had such a holy 
 woman to dwell under its roof. I have always felt, and a 
 sacred feeling it is, that the incense of her prayers, and 
 the holy life my blessed martyr mother led has caused 
 God to smile benignly upon us. We laid her tenderly 
 away in our cemetery where the ashes of several genera- 
 
 21 
 
tions repose, under the cedar trees, and amid the perfume 
 of violets. 
 
 "No sweeter voice from human Hps e'er issued 
 Than that which sang low cradle hymns to me. 
 I hear it now in dreams, sweet Mother, 
 And shaken with sobs, awake to weep for thee." 
 
 LETTER X 
 
 The after effects of the war were as trying as the war 
 itself. We submitted to the inevitable, the freeing of 
 our slaves, the ruthless destruction of our valuable farms, 
 the pillage of our homes, the entire loss of my mother's 
 large estate, and after all this if we could have been let 
 alone; but the very elements seemed to conspire to ruin 
 us. The crops were more often bad than good, legislation 
 was against us, and I have often felt as if there was a 
 great black wall in front of me behind which there was no 
 light, but always when we came nearer the way would 
 open. 
 
 Your father had an excellent law practice, and his 
 family never suffered for anything, nay, I do not know 
 anyone who has done a better part by his children. A 
 more conscientious, faithful man never lived. 
 
 As I look back on a long married life, I recall many 
 incidents, both laughable, and pathetic. Many things 
 I would have my children remember, which cannot be 
 put down in these pages. 
 
 In 1877 the most beautiful child I ever saw was given 
 me, a brown eyed boy whom we named Edwin Speight. 
 He died suddenly of cholera infantum when he was six 
 months old. The shock and grief of his death so affected 
 me that I had the first serious illness I had ever had dur- 
 ing my married life. As I look back at all the intense 
 pain I suffered during a long illness I realize how much it 
 was lessened by the love and attention of my dear family. 
 My ever faithful little nurse, Minnie, would wait by the 
 bed-room door in the morning to come in and minister to 
 me. 
 
 Fannie was at school at Staunton, and Fred at Bing- 
 ham's. I had been sick so long I became accustomed to 
 my room, and looking at the river, and did not mind the 
 confinement. In July I went to Beaufort for the benefit 
 of the salt air. I sat on the piazza drinking in the 
 life-giving breeze and growing stronger. Kate was a 
 httle thing of six, and had been having dumb chills, of 
 
 28 
 
which we could not break her, so she and Henry, Jr. 
 were sent down to me. In walking on the wharf one day 
 Kate fell overboard, and Henry very gallantly jumped 
 after her. He had on a pretty blue sailor suit, which was 
 not improved by contact with the salt water, but the 
 shock cured the chills. I think the sense of obligation 
 which Henry has caused Kate to feel is burdensome even 
 to this day. 
 
 Life jogged along for us as it does for many families. 
 Most of the children by this time had left the home-nest. 
 Your father was twice elected Judge of the Superior 
 Court. This left me a good deal at home with one or 
 two of my dear daughters. I still led a busy life, for he 
 was in politics, and that is a very uncertain life. 
 
 At first I went with him on his Circuit, and did enjoy 
 the mountain districts. In going around to the different 
 courts we stopped at Black Mountain, sixteen miles from 
 Asheville, and were charmed with the quietude and the 
 beauty of the place, so much so in fact that I bought six 
 acres on the brow of a hill, and my sons and your father 
 helped me build a dear lodge. Since then we have spent 
 many summers there. I gave the place to my five daugh- 
 ters, and we furnished it as best we could. We dug a well 
 of delightful water through the solid rock; entertained 
 company galore, sat on the broad piazza and viewed the 
 mountains — ''Seven Sisters", ''Craggy Dome", and the 
 numberless automobiles filled with people on their waj^ to 
 the Blue Ridge. I gave to my eldest daughter, her por- 
 tion of "Chestnut Lodge", and you can read in the 
 following verses how she appreciated it". — 
 
 "Do you know you have given a beautiful thing — 
 Which was raade by the hand of God. 
 
 A fair lovely cliff with a wonderful view, 
 Of valley and mountain and sod? 
 
 You have made me this gift in the spirit of love, 
 And bade me to build there a "Home", 
 
 The son and the daughter, in weal or in woe 
 The gay or the heart-sick may come. 
 
 My aim is to rear from the rocks that abound, 
 
 A foundation in soft tones of grey. 
 ril hew the tall pines to enclose the low walls, 
 
 A home where my children may stay. 
 
 29 
 
Now what shall I call this sweet restful home — 
 
 That is my dear Mother's good gift? 
 The name of all others that comes to me first, 
 
 My Mother's own name ''Molly— Chff". 
 
 We visited many places. We had a lovely ride over the 
 Blue Ridge one pleasant hazy day to Sparta, Alleghany 
 County. The vehicle was comfortable, and the horses 
 spirited, and the beautiful views of valley and mountain 
 and sky were pleasant to behold. The laurel and spruce, 
 and other evergreens, and in the distance sheep and 
 cattle grazing on the mountain side, and the little homes 
 nesthng near rocky streams or springs, are indeed a 
 pleasant memory. 
 
 I want to tell you something of the life of my aunt 
 Annie Norcott, of whom I was so forcefully reminded on 
 one of my visits to the mountain country. 
 
 She was a very pretty brown-eyed girl — quite a belle 
 with the boys and attracted the attention of William 
 Bernard, whom she married and with whom she lived for 
 many years in Greenville. She had six sons and one 
 daughter. This girl was educated in Philadelphia, and 
 wrote beautiful letters. Her son, Germaine Bernard, mar- 
 ried JuKet Gilliam from Pilot Mountain, of whom I shall 
 tell you presently. During the summer of 1918 I paid a 
 short visit to two of my cousins, Mrs. Bernard's grand- 
 daughters, who lived at Pilot Mountain, Stokes County, 
 North Carolina. I found them most intelligent and agree- 
 able, and they told me many interesting incidents. You 
 all know about your grandfather Norcott, and his early 
 struggles, but nothing about his pretty sister, who married 
 Wilham Bernard. He was a good husband and took excel- 
 lent care of his family. He was from Hyde County — and 
 his father, Germaine Bernard settled there in a rather pe- 
 culiar way. This Germaine Bernard was a young man from 
 Bordeaux, France, and was coming to this country at the 
 time Oglethorpe settled Georgia but when of! the coast of 
 North CaroHna, near Hatteras, a violent storm came up, 
 and the vessel was wrecked, and everything lost. Young 
 Bernard was rescued with others, and found his way to 
 Hyde County, where he married a Miss Fortisque. 
 William was the only child of this couple. Mr. Germaine 
 Bernard was highly educated. He could speak seven 
 languages. He was thrown from his sulkey and killed 
 while driving tandem. There was a small settlement in 
 Hyde County named for him. 
 
 30 
 
LETTER XI 
 
 In February 1897 I had a great pleasure. Your father 
 was holding court in Washington, N. C, and he took 
 me with him to revisit the loved scenes of my early child- 
 hood. I went to the old home around which clusters so 
 many fond recollections of my baby-hood. It presented 
 a very dilapidated appearance. I could hardly believe it 
 was the same place. There we took the carriage for 
 Grimesland, a much more pleasant mode of conveyance 
 to me than the automobile. One of the greatest pleasures 
 of this drive was that it led by "Chatham", the colonial 
 plantation of my great-great grandfather, Gen'l John 
 Simpson, and the grave yard where he and his wife and 
 many of his children's remains repose. It is on a hillock 
 covered with grass and moss a century old. The white 
 marble slabs shine faintly through the shadows of the old 
 oak trees. Briars and tangled under brush covered the 
 ground, grey moss hung in graceful festoons over this 
 place of the dead, and I thought what a record of hopes 
 and fears, dreary anticipations and pleasant reunions, this 
 old grave on the hill-side covered, for it was in colonial 
 times these things occurred. 
 
 Also on this road, near the Chatham farm is a his- 
 toric house, which I went into, and was greatly inter- 
 ested in. Col. Simpson's son was cashier, and this was 
 a bank belonging to the Crown. ^ A tremendous brick 
 fire-place covering almost the entire side of the house 
 divided into two large chimneys halfway up. Inside 
 were large closets in the brick wall, reaching down into 
 the cellar. These were the receptacles for the valuable 
 papers of the Crown and bank. This wonderful old 
 house is now occupied by negroes and going to decay. 
 
 My sons were doing well, and my sons-in-law, so I 
 really had not much to worry over. 
 
 There were so many of us, eight children, grand-chil- 
 dren, your father and I. Death and disease stalked about 
 the land, and the Death Angel visited everywhere, so my 
 heart was raised in thankfulness that we were spared, and 
 I prayed that this blessing of life, with grateful hearts, 
 might be vouchsafed to us for many years to come. 
 
 In 1900 your father's health began to fail. He still 
 kept on with his courts, but finally had to temporarily 
 retire. We went to a great many doctors, and mineral 
 springs, but without relief. On the advice of physicans 
 we went to Bedford Springs in Pennsylvania, passing 
 
 31 
 
through Baltimore, where I persuaded Judge W. S. Brj^an 
 to come and join us for a month, and spend his vacation 
 there. I felt great responsibility with such a sick man so 
 far from home, and was glad to persuade my brother-in- 
 law, who was bright, encouraging company, to be with us. 
 How strangely things happen in this world. To think of 
 all the mineral springs in the country we should have been 
 directed to this one, which held such dear memories for 
 me. As I have told you before, my dear mother was 
 advised by Dr. Johnson of Raleigh years before this time, 
 to go to these springs, when I was only eleven years old. 
 The journey through the valley of the Junietta, is a fairy 
 dream. It was there as a child I acquired my taste for 
 maple sugar in the quaint little village of Bedford. 
 This was in 1851. When my mother and I left there we 
 went to Philadelphia where we met friends, and stopped 
 at a grand hotel. Mrs. Reid, this friend, took me to 
 v/alk with her one Sunday afternoon. We were on the 
 opposite side of the street when a number of Sunday 
 School scholars came out of a church. They began to 
 look at me, and even pointed at me. I grew very self- 
 conscious and confused, and asked Mrs. Reid what was 
 the matter. I had been very carefully dressed, and my 
 clothes were of rich material. We returned to the hotel 
 much bewildered, but found out the trouble was I had on 
 pantalettes (beautifully made with insertion, herring 
 bone, and lace) but alas! they had just gone out of 
 fashion, and I had not been in the city long enough to 
 learn this. 
 
 Well your father and I made this journey to Bedford 
 under different circumstances. As we could not find 
 room at the hotel proper, we stopped at a lovely place 
 called the ''Armsdale''. Here we had a nice visit. I 
 met Mrs. Lyon from Baltimore, with whom I still cor- 
 respond. Your uncle, Judge W. S. Bryan, did and said 
 all kinds of funny things, which I enjoyed. 
 
 After our visit to Bedford we went to Buffalo Lithia 
 and Cleveland, and returned home to find your father no 
 better. After much consultation we decided he had bet- 
 ter go to Johns Hopkins for an operation for gall stones. 
 He was operated on, but improved slowly. I, of course, 
 was with him, and it was a very trying experience. I 
 learned much of hospital life and saw many sad cases, and 
 much to draw upon one's sympathy. 
 
 We returned from Baltimore in February 1902. 
 After a short rest your father resumed his official duties, 
 
 32 
 
and he displayed a great bravery in going from court to 
 court in his enfeebled condition. We got a good negro boy 
 from Fayetteville to accompany him, and this boy was 
 very attentive. 
 
 Finally he declined a re-election, and came home to 
 spend the remainder of his days by his own quiet fire-side. 
 He was very infirm, and one of us always accompanied 
 him on his walks. He was paralized twenty-one months 
 before he died. I had a rolling chair for him. He would 
 roll up and down the broad piazza looking at the beautiful 
 Neuse, dotted with the white sails of the boats, and 
 greeting passers-by. He was very patient and gentle, 
 and passed away the morning of the 14th of February 
 1919, falHng asleep like a child. He was willing to go. 
 
 For forty years we had had no death in our family 
 except that of a little delicate baby, whom we did not 
 expect to rear. At the time of your father's passing av/ay 
 our best beloved and most beautiful grand-daughter, 
 Mary Norcott London, was lying at the point of death 
 from that awful disease, influenza, at her home in Char- 
 lotte. Her husband, Capt. Edwin T. Cansler, was in 
 France with the army of occupation. He was not 
 allowed to return to his home until his bride had left us 
 forever. On the 18th of February 1919 God took her to 
 Himself. She was twenty-four years old, and life had 
 held nothing but love and happiness for her. Everything 
 has changed for us since we see her no more. We try to 
 be submissive, but we can never feel the same. May God 
 help us. 
 
 ''Beautiful toiler, thy work all done, 
 
 Beautiful soul with glory gone. 
 Beautiful Life, with its crown now won, 
 
 God grant thee rest." 
 
 ''Beautiful spirit, free from all stain. 
 
 Ours the heart-ache, the sorrow, the pain, 
 
 Thine is the glory, the infinite gain, 
 Thy slumber is sweet.'' 
 
 And now I want to tell you of a happy birthday I 
 have had, indeed the happiest of all my eighty years. 
 
 I have had my old enemy the grippe again this winter, 
 and it has left my heart weak, so I do not know how many 
 years I may count on in this beautiful world I love so 
 much. 
 
 On this birthday I had four of my precious children 
 
 33 
 
with me, and four away. Telegrams began to arrive 
 before breakfast, and letters. Such bright, pleasant 
 letters, and kind messages. Then came flowers! By 
 eleven o'clock the house was a bower, and so many 
 lovely presents. And I had not said a word about this 
 birthday. Scores of friends called during the day to 
 wish me ''Many happy returns". At night we had a 
 family dinner party consisting of twenty. Everyone was 
 so kind and nice. I am a most fortunate old woman, and 
 I thank God for all the love that has been lavished on me 
 all these years, and a million times for these children, 
 grand children and great-grand children. These last have 
 made me young again with them and been the delight 
 and joy of my old age. I have had a very comfortable 
 life, sunshine, and some shadow, more health than sick- 
 ness, more kindness than enmity, and the pleasure of 
 reading so many charming books. My eyes have served 
 me to good purpose. I am deaf, but very little, and I 
 take pleasure in everything going on. 
 
 ''To the life we are clinging, they also would cling. 
 But it speeds for us all like a bird on the wing" 
 "So the multitude goes like the flower or weed. 
 That withers away to let others succeed. 
 So the multitude comes, even these we behold. 
 To repeat the same tale that has often been told". 
 
 LETTER XII 
 
 These letters are taken from one hundred and fifty writ- 
 ten during the four years I was at school in Richmond, Va., 
 and Washington City, in 1854 and '58. My mother had 
 married a second time, and was hving on a beautiful plan- 
 tation called "Monticello," ten miles from Kinston. The 
 house was situated in a large grove; two huge live oaks 
 guarded the entrance at each side of the gate; and a flower 
 garden surrounded the house ; two vegetable gardens were 
 at the back, and a well of delicious water stood temptingly 
 near; so many servants about the house they were in each 
 others way, and a little maid stood at the back of her chair 
 to pick up the knitting ball when it was dropped. The 
 horses and carriage were brought to the door everj^ after- 
 noon for a drive. Although the surroundings were so 
 pleasant, it was often quite lonesome, and company was 
 given a cordial welcome. I remember there was once a 
 "Primitive Association" held in the neighborhood, and we 
 entertained a number of the delegates. The good old 
 preacher was asked to pray, and he put up a fervent 
 
 34 
 
petition for the ''King of the House, and the Queen of the 
 Range." He had never been so far from home before 
 (thirty miles), but he was told he would ''Meet with 
 kindness and sure enough he had." 
 
 ,^ _ . Sweet Spring, Va., Aug. 1st, 1854. 
 
 My Darling Mary, 
 
 I wrote you from Petersburg, Friday, which I hope 
 reached you Saturday evening, and I trust found you well 
 and cheerful. The next morning we took the cars of the 
 South Side Railroad to Lynchburg, however, the last 
 eleven miles of the road is not completed, and we had to 
 take the stage to L., thence by Tennessee railroad to 
 Salem, sixty miles from the White Sulphur. As we arrived 
 at the terminus of the road Saturday evening, we passed 
 the Sabbath at Salem, and yesterday morning at four 
 o'clock took our seats in the stage, only ten passengers, 
 eight inside, two on top. We anticipated an uncomfort- 
 able day, and were not disappointed. The road took us 
 nearly all the way over a succession of lofty mountains; 
 there seemed to be no way to get around them, con- 
 sequently they had to be crossed. Our nerves were 
 frequently tried at the dangerous precipices which yawned 
 so fearfully on the mountain side, yet that same unseen 
 hand which has preserved us all our life long brought us 
 safety through, and we could not but feel grateful, not 
 only for protection, but also that we had been permitted 
 to enjoy the view of these magnificent mountains. Must 
 say the views we had yesterday for grandeur exceed 
 anything I have seen. On our way here we learned that 
 there was such a crowd of visitors at White Sulphur that 
 there was no chance of getting rooms, and feeling greatly 
 the need of rest we have stopped here for a day or two, and 
 have sent to engage rooms. We are only seventeen miles 
 from the W. S, This is a lovely spot, and very much 
 improved since I saw it, just seventeen years since. How 
 time flies! I cannot realize that the 16th of this month I 
 shall be forty-two, that is if spared to see it. Yet so it 
 is, and we should wisely improve the precious moments 
 as they pass. I feel much pain at our separation my dear 
 child, yet conscience and judgment both tell me that 
 I have done right, and I hope you think with me and will 
 try to be happy and satisfied, and improve finely in all 
 your studies. I feel very anxious to hear from you, and 
 have sent over to the White Sulphur for letters; don't fail 
 to write twice a week. Your aunt Mary is somewhat un- 
 well with cold; she will soon be relieved now she can be 
 
 35 
 
quiet. Mr. C. and uncle are quite well. I am mending 
 slowly. I am too much fatigued to write you a long 
 letter, but will do so very soon. Tell your cousin to write. 
 You must both be prudent about eating fruit. If you 
 have any news from cousin Ann Howard let me know. 
 I am very fearful we shall never see her again, and how it 
 grieves me to think of her and her children. Oh, how 
 much they will love if their mother is taken from them! 
 But God knows best, we must leave these solemn things 
 in his hands. We all join in love to you and Mary. 
 Her father says she must improve rapidly in her studies. 
 Goodbye darling. May kind angels guard you. 
 
 Your loving Mother. 
 
 White Sulphur Springs, Va., Aug. 5, 1854. 
 My dearest Mary: 
 
 We rested two days at the Sweet Springs, and then 
 came on to this place the next morning; had the pleasure 
 of receiving your of July 28th. I was delighted to hear 
 from my precious child, and especially relieved in mind 
 to hear you were tolerably well satisfied and getting 
 interested in your studies ; hope your next letter, which I 
 am looking for daily, will inform me that you are still 
 more contented and getting on finely. Your uncle 
 received your cousin's letter at the same time I did yours; 
 he will write soon. Wednesday night when we came over 
 here there was so much difficulty in getting cabins at this 
 place we stopped about one mile distant, and have but 
 just obtained rooms and come down. The first thing 
 after getting the baggage arranged is to write to you. 
 This place is somewhat improved since we were here nine 
 years ago, and there is a great crowd of people here — at 
 least six hundred and fifty. About the middle of this 
 month the visitors will begin to lessen, and will continue 
 to do so until all leave. The water thus far seems to agree 
 with me very well, and I hope for great relief from taking it. 
 Your aunt has continued to suffer with cold ever since she 
 left, and is quite indisposed from it. She begins to think 
 it would have been better to remain in Wake; I hope, 
 however, she will receive much benefit before going home. 
 Of course, I have not had an opportunity of visiting your 
 dear father's grave, but Mr. C. and Uncle have visited 
 the sacred spot, and say it is in nice order, and the tombs- 
 stone the best in the graveyard. Ah, my dear Mary, my 
 mind goes back with so much vividness to the sad, 
 heart-stricken time I had here nine years since, and, in 
 imagination, I can see the solemn funeral procession 
 
followed by only two mourners, one of them a little girl of 
 only four years, who little knew the greatness of the loss 
 she had sustained, and who, young as she was, tried so 
 earnestly to win her mother from her grief. 
 
 These things, darling child, your mother cannot forget, 
 and too, ever since you have lain in my bosom, the strong- 
 est tie to life, and my dear, my love knows no change, 
 yet I do believe it is really necessary you should learn to 
 depend on yourself, which you would not learn if con- 
 stantly with me. So, you see, duty requires us to do 
 many things which are not agreeable. I wrote you last 
 Tuesday from the Sweet Springs, this is Saturday evening 
 —two letters this week— have you done as well? Your 
 letter was five days getting here; hope mine are not so 
 long reaching you. Now, my child, I must urge you to be 
 prudent in every respect, and when you write tell me all 
 about yourself as to health, studies and everything I 
 should know. While undergoing so much fatigue to get 
 here, I could but feel glad that you were in a place of 
 comfort quietly pursuing your studies. How much I 
 would prefer home to this summer travel! Your uncle, 
 aunt, and Mr. C. all join in love to you, and Mary. Let 
 me remind you that both should not write by the same 
 mail, then we should hear from you oftener. The Lord 
 bless and preserve my child from all evil is the prayer of 
 
 Your affectionate Mother. 
 
 Monticello, N. C, March 11th, 1855. 
 My dear Mary, 
 
 You are permitted to see another birthday, and my 
 heart is filled with deep gratitude to God for having spared 
 you and granted the many blessings which have crowded 
 youi' life. Fourteen years have swiftly glided by; the 
 period usually allotted to childhood has passed, and 
 you are now entering the most important period of life, 
 for on the manner in which you improve the next seven 
 years depends, in a great measure, your well doing in time 
 and destiny in eternity. You have hitherto been almost 
 constantly by my side; as yet you have known but little 
 of the responsibility of relying on your own discretion and 
 exertion. The time has now come for us to separate, and 
 for you to prove that the lessons so constantly given have 
 been treasured, and that you have fixed principles of right 
 to guide you safely through the many temptations and 
 difficulties which may assail you. I do not think, my 
 dear daughter, that I need urge you to be diligent in the 
 
 37 
 
acquisition of learning; the pleasure it affords us, to you, 
 a sufficient inducement. I would, however, caution you 
 against indulgence of novel reading. Now is the time to 
 store the treasure house of your niind with useful know- 
 ledge, which will stand 3^ou in good stead in the years to 
 to come, I desire at this time my precious child, to call your 
 attention to the importance of improving your temper and 
 manners. Now is the time to bend your every effort to 
 aquire an amiable disposition, and that sweet, gentle 
 dignity of manner which is so necessary to make up the 
 character of a refined and polished lady, and which also 
 adds so much to the happiness of the social circle. The 
 task, which I so earnestly desire you to undertake, will 
 not be the work of a day or month; you will, perhaps, 
 feel that it is difficult, nevertheless persevere and I trust 
 and believe success w\\\ crown your efTorts. I must, 
 however, here remind you that in our weakness and 
 inability to overcome the imperfections of our nature, 
 and to strive after a high standard of moral excellence, 
 there is a source higher than earth to which we are privi- 
 ledged to apply for wisdom and grace to that blessed 
 fountain opened in the house of David for sin and un- 
 cleanness. I would point and urge you to ask wisdom 
 of God, who giveth liberally and upbraideth not. May 
 you find that the blood of Christ cleanseth all from sin, 
 and may His grace enable you to use the blessings be- 
 stowed ''as a wise servant who has to give account of the 
 talents committed to his care." To you, just beginning 
 life, the future seems beautifully tinted with the rainbow 
 hues of hope, the future looks bright and fair. I would 
 not cast a cloud on your pleasing anticipations, but would 
 remind you that all things bright must fade; that this 
 earth is not our abiding place. Already many of our loved 
 and cherished ones have been called to the spirit land, and 
 we must soon follow? How important then to have the 
 affections placed on things above, and to be able to say — 
 
 Whatever thou deniest give me thy grace 
 The spirits sure witness and smiles of thy face. 
 Indulge me with patience to wait at thy throne 
 And find even here a sweet foretaste of home." 
 
 My prayer for you is ''Lead her not into temptation, 
 but deliver her from evil," May you my precious child, be 
 spared to see many returns of this day, and each one find 
 you advancing in wisdom and holiness. 
 
 Your affectionate Mother. 
 
 38 
 
Monticello, N. C, January 29th, 1858. 
 My darling child : 
 
 When the boy returned from the office Monday, I was 
 most agreeably surprised to receive yours of the twenty- 
 second instant. I had been feeling very anxious about 
 you all day, and it was such a relief to hear my precious 
 Mary had passed a happy week, and was, as I inferred, 
 in good health. I wrote last Monday and enclosed a 
 draft to Mrs. Kingsford. I hope it reached you safely. 
 It will soon be time to pay for the second half of the 
 session, which Mr. C. will have it in his power to attend 
 to in good time as he has just sent his cotton to New Berne 
 to be shipped to New York. Just think! one-twelfth of 
 the New Year is nearly gone; time does, indeed, pass 
 rapidly away, and how careful we should be to improve it 
 as it flies! Let the duties of the day be done in the day, 
 then work will be pleasant and you will not be over-tasked. 
 Time with you is very important, and you must not let 
 your disposition for fun and amusement draw you off from 
 your studies; at the same time I don't wish my darUng to 
 lose her cheerful disposition and joyous laugh. I am very 
 glad Mrs. Kingsford is so kind as to take you to places 
 calculated to interest and improve you. You should try 
 to profit by all your opportunities, and fit yourself to be 
 an ornament and a blessing in the circle in which you 
 move. Even now, you should try to do good by setting 
 a good example to your associates. Some of them I am 
 sure have not had the careful training you have had, and 
 a word in season might do them much good. There is 
 your friend. Miss Fox, who has no mother; she has some 
 good traits of character; persuade her to try to overcome 
 those little pets of temper, and she will be so much 
 happier. The Good Book says ''Greater is he that 
 keepeth his temper than he that taketh a city'\ Above 
 all persuade her to ask God in humble prayer to give her 
 strength to do right; and may I not hope that my precious 
 Mary seeks earnestly for grace and wisdom from the 
 same source? Have you, dearest, ever thought how many 
 prayers your mother humbly presents to God for your 
 conversion, and for every other needed blessing, in the 
 course of one year at only three a day? And they are 
 much more than that, but at that estimate there are 
 more than a thousand. Recollect this when you are 
 silencing the voice of conscience and putting off repentance 
 to a more convenient season. Now is the accepted time. 
 I pray you, then, delay not to seek an interest in the 
 atoning blood of our blessed Savior. I am pleased to 
 
 39 
 
hear that Meta J. wrote you. It does indeed seem a 
 pity she did not receive your letter in time to go to 
 Washington City. I have no doubt she is a very nice 
 girl, and should be happy to see her at our house. And 
 Miss Monroe is not married; she is, no doubt, right in 
 putting off that important step to a more distant day. 
 Mrs. Ivy from New Berne and Mrs. Chappell from 
 Kinston spent two days with us this week. Mrs. C. has 
 a lovely babe six months old. Your cousin and Alice 
 are both looking well, and are cheerful. Of course they 
 have a good deal to say about beaux, but it does not 
 amount to much. It is a settled fact that our anticipa- 
 tions are seldoni reaHzed, and it would be well if we could 
 refrain from building too many air-castles, which so soon 
 vanish at the realities of life. To the well-regulated mind 
 there is always enough to interest for they do not live on 
 continual excitement, expecting something remarkable to 
 occur to make them conspicuous and envied above others. 
 They accept with gi^atitude the gifts of God, and enjoy 
 all as coming from a father's hand. Mr. C's. health is 
 better this week. I am thinking of going to New Berne 
 tomorrow, but I have a headache today and may put it 
 off until Monday. Your Aunt Sue does not improve; I 
 fear she will always be an invalid. I shall take Annie 
 with me to see her mother, and probably bring her back 
 again. She is improving in looks as she grows older, but 
 is not nearly so pretty as Mary; she promises to be a rare 
 beauty. Little Sue is a darhng too; she looks very sweet 
 toddling oyer the floor. Your uncle is very much opposed 
 to your quitting school next summer. He says you have 
 •the talents, the means and the youth, and should not 
 think of leaving school until you are eighteen. Can you 
 hold out that long? If you can, I don't know how I 
 could bear it, but we will try to decide right. My going 
 to Washington this winter is doubtful. Mrs. Parmerle 
 and Mrs. Bernard are coming to see me quite soon. You 
 have not told me how you like the bonnets or veil. Do 
 you walk every day when the weather will allow, and do 
 you wear your thick shoes? Your letters do me so much 
 good ; how I long to see you to imprint some loving kisses 
 on your dear cheek, but I must wait. William had a 
 letter from Mary Jabe last week, all were very well. 
 Tell me how your health is, and if you weigh as much as 
 when you left home. 
 
 Goodbye, may God bless you. 
 
 Your affectionate Mother. 
 
 40 
 
Monticello, N. C. March 6, 1858. 
 My dearest Mary: 
 
 Your dear letter of the twenty-fifth ultimo was received 
 Wednesday while I was suffering with a most distressing 
 sick headache. I sat up in bed and read it, and felt that it 
 was, indeed, a sweet little messenger of peace and love. 
 Yes, darling, the sentiments expressed are such as I 
 approve, and now that you have arrived at an age capable 
 of choosing what is noble and elevating, it is cause of 
 great gratification that your mind is satisfied only with 
 goodness, purity and truth. I was pleased to hear you 
 enjoyed the levee. It must, indeed, have been a rare 
 treat to you who enjoy novelty with so much zest. But 
 don't let the President's compliments increase your vanity, 
 for you must recollect he is a bachelor, and, of course, 
 must be comphmentary to the ladies. Certainly, you had 
 a great deal of social enjoyment for one week, especially 
 if you finished with the visit to Mrs. Clark. If you went, 
 I hope you had an enjoyable time, and not too many 
 fascinating beaus about. I am often anxious about your 
 health, fearing your buoyant disposition will be the cause 
 of imprudence. I felt quite relieved to find the levee was 
 over without causing you a severe cold. Last Monday 
 morning I wrote you hurriedly , thinking I would write more 
 at length in a day of two, but the week has proved one of 
 unusual occupation; so much so, that now, Saturday 
 night, I have just found time to write. Monday morning 
 Mrs. Mitchell, and Miss Seeley left. Their company was 
 very agreeable, but my mind was so divided between my 
 desire to attend to my guests, and, at the same time, not 
 to neglect Mr. C. that I necessarily felt somewhat reheved 
 when they left. The next day I received very polite 
 letters from both ladies. Miss S. expressed herself 
 highly pleased with her visit, and hopes I may soon visit 
 the north and afford her an opportunity of reciprocatmg 
 my kindness. She is really a nice, intelhgent woman, 
 Mr. C. has been in bed all the week; he sat up a good deal 
 Wednesday, and aided in nursing my head while I was 
 suffering so. Fortunately I was able to be up next day, 
 as usual, and give him all the attention he required — I 
 may say requires, for he is still in bed, and worse last 
 night than he has been. Dr. Woodley has been out 
 today, and says his is a case of chronic hver disease, not 
 very dangerous, but I expect will require a long course of 
 treatment to effect a cure. Mr. C. is very thin, and looks 
 very badly at times, but he is not desponding. It grives 
 me to see him suffer, but I hope he will be spared some 
 
 41 
 
years longer to be a stay and a comfort to us all. Lizzie 
 and her dear little boys stayed a week and left yesterday 
 morning. You can imagine how difficult it was to keep 
 those lively boys from making a noise to disturb Mr. C. 
 At times they would break through and give us an idea 
 of what they could do if restraint were removed. Just 
 before dinner yesterday Alice Hilliard and Mary Simpson 
 came up to meet Rebecca Powell, who is going down to 
 your uncle's to go to school to Miss. Rebecca Owen. 
 By brother's request William went to Goldsboro and 
 brought Miss Powell down; the young ladies speak of 
 returning tomorrow, but it is now snowing, and the 
 chances are in favor of my keeping them, I feel very 
 anxious to have time to write you a birthday letter, but 
 fear it will be rather too late; however, a day or two after 
 will make no great difference. I have been thinking of 
 it every day, but with a house full of company, myself 
 somewhat indisposed, and Mr. C. sick it seemed im- 
 possible to command the time. 
 
 I hope darling you will have health, and every other 
 needed blessing. Remember me particularly on the 
 eleventh. My prayers and feelings will be with you, and 
 I trust you will make some good resolves for the future. 
 
 God bless you, my child, 
 
 Your loving Mother. 
 
 New Berne, N. C, April 21, 1859. 
 My precious child. 
 
 The stage was so late getting in Tuesday night I did 
 not get your letter until yesterday morning, which seemed 
 a long time to wait for it. I am very sorry to hear you 
 have been sick; what was the matter? I hope you will 
 be prudent for health should be highly prized. I am 
 troubled about your going to Greenville, and now say 
 most emphatically that I do not wish you to go with Mr. 
 Latham or anyone else, unless it is an old friend, or one of 
 your cousins could come down to go and return with you. 
 My darling daughter is of too much importance to be 
 travelling about under the escort of anyone she can pick 
 up. If you can't go under proper protection, put off the 
 visit to another time. If I were able I would come over 
 and go with you, but I have a fever every day with dis- 
 tressing headache. I have to stay in bed several hours 
 in the middle of the day and merely keep up the balance of 
 the time; of course I am tied at home. Your absence 
 begins to seem very long to me. I can't say I am willing 
 
 42 
 
for you to stay until the middle of May, but give me rea- 
 sons for wishing to stay, and say how you will arrange 
 about Mr. Bryan's visit. Another thing — will you be 
 treating Sarah Outlaw right to stay so long? You will 
 have to come home in the stage and I ought to send som- 
 one to come home with you. I don't hke you to have no 
 protection but a stage driver. Let me know how you 
 can arrange these matters for they cause me a good deal of 
 anxiety; perhaps Wilhe Grist would come; if so, you should 
 pay his way. I hope you enjoyed your letters; I will 
 forward any others that may come. I sent one to Sarah 
 Outlaw from C. Hill by yesterday's mail. Mr. B. is cer- 
 tainly a faithful correspondent. I regret to hear M. is so 
 easily pleased, as I am anxious she should make a good 
 match. I know you are all having a nice time, but should 
 think you could be ready to come home by the last of the 
 month and give the "picnic" up. Dr. Duffy is better, 
 though still in bed. Your Aunt Lizzie is sick now, 
 but I hope she will not be very sick. Sue is here today and 
 while I was up stairs lying down she cut up a supply of 
 postage stamps I had just bought; she left only two. 
 She sends you a kiss. Mr. Cuthbert's handsome goods 
 have not arrived, and I have not been able to go to the 
 stores to select any dresses for you and Mary S. I will 
 try and get out in a day or two. Have you seen Sister 
 Fullerton yet? Do go to see her as often as you can. 
 I feel very grateful to Mrs. Permerle and other friends for 
 their kindness to you. Kiss Mrs. P. for me. I hope Mr. 
 P. has returned safely, and that you will have the pleasure 
 of seeing him. I don't think it will do any good to ad- 
 vise M. a great deal. I wish, however, she would not 
 have any more trifling love affairs for they are much to be 
 regretted. My darhng, I am lonely without you; the 
 house at times looks dreary and almost desolate. Then, 
 at night I want you in my arms, and have your sweet 
 goodnight kiss. I hope the stage will be in time to let me 
 have your letter tonight. I would like to see it before I 
 close this, but then it would be too late to get mine in. 
 Write every mail without fail. May our heavenly 
 Father preserve you from all evil and return you safely to 
 your fond 
 
 Mother. 
 
 43 
 
n^ 
 
 HENRY RAVENSCROFT BRYAN 
 
 New Berne, North Carolina, 
 
 January 31st, 1912. 
 Henry Ravenscroft Bryan, sixth son of John 
 tage Bryan, and Mary WilHams Bryan, his wife, 
 was 'born in New Berne on the 8th day of March, 1836. 
 I was born in the brick house on Pollock Street in which 
 my Father and Grandfather (James Bryan) lived, situ- 
 ated on the south side of the street, between Metcalf and 
 George. My parents were natives of New Berne, and 
 were married there on the 20th of Dec. 1821 by the Rev. 
 Richard S. Mason of the Episcopal Chuixh. 
 
 The name of my Mother's father was William Shepard, 
 son of Jacob Shepard. William Shepard died in 1819. 
 He was a native of Carteret Co., North Carolina. His 
 wife's maiden name was Mary Blount, daughter of 
 Frederick Blount, and a native of Pasquotank Co., N. C, 
 and lived on the Elm or Elmwood Plantation in said 
 county. My mother was named for her maternal 
 grandmother, Mary Williams, who married Frederick 
 Blount (son of John Blount) April 5th, 1769. He was a 
 polished gentleman of wealth, a planter lawyer, and 
 intimate friend of the Colonial Governor Try on. Mary 
 Blount, my grandmother, was born in 1772, and was buried 
 in the old cemetary in Raleigh on the 16th day of October 
 1864. She died on the 12th of October in her 93rd year. 
 Mary Blount, daughter of Frederick Blount married 
 William Shepard on the 12th of May 1794. William 
 Shepard was an uncle of the Biddies of Philadelphia — 
 Nicholas and others. CLYeL^ 
 
 My maternal Grandfather, William Shepfegj^ w^as a 
 man of business, and large property. He was principal 
 owner of the famous privateer ''Snap Dragon," com- 
 manded by Otway Burns in the War of 1812. This vessel 
 was quite successful in capturing prizes of war. Shepard 
 owned a steam sawmill, located near New Berne on 
 Lawson's Creek, and much real estate in and around New 
 Berne. He lived in a large brick house at the corner of 
 South Front and Middle Streets, and owned property 
 on the west side of Middle Street down to the channel 
 of Trent river. 
 
 My paternal Grandfather, James Bryan, was native of 
 Craven Co., and was engaged in merchandise in New Bern. 
 He owned vessels that ran to the West Indies and 
 Northern Points. His store was on Pollock St. opposite 
 
 44 
 
the eastern corner of the Episcopal church yard. He died 
 in January 1806, and he and WilHam Shepard are both 
 buried in Cedar Grove Cemetery in New Berne. My 
 paternal grandmother was Rachael HerVitage, daughter 
 of Capt. John Herj-itage of the Continental Hne. Her 
 family owned a plantation in Lenoir Co., named ''Harrow" 
 from Harrow in England. Upon the death of her first 
 husband, James Bryan, who died leaving three children, 
 towit: John HerHtage, Elizabeth and James West, she 
 married Dr. Fred Blount, by whom she had several 
 children, Frederick, Alexander, Mary, Caroline, and 
 Heritage. Some of these Blounts moved to Florida. 
 She died in New Berne in 1840. 
 
 My mother, Mary W. Bryan, was born in New Berne 
 Jan. 2nd 1801. She was a woman of very strong character 
 had a good education, and handsome black eyes. She was 
 a good disciplinarian. She and my father were the parents 
 of fourteen children. The youngest, Frederick, died at 
 seventeen. Thirteen grew up to maturity. They were 
 attendants upon the Episcopal Church and well instructed 
 in its doctrines. My father and mother were much given 
 to hospitality, and lived in much comfort with plenty of 
 servants — their slaves. 
 
 My father, John Hemtage Bryan, was born in New 
 Berne, November 4th, 1798, grandson of Col. John Bryan, 
 an officer in the Revolution and member of the Provincial 
 congress at Halifax. His ancestry on both sides were 
 prominent in the life of the colony from its first settlement. 
 He was elected to the state senate in 1823, and served two 
 terms. In 1825 while travelling in the Northern States 
 for his health, he was, unknown to himself, elected to the 
 State Senate and Congress on the same day, defeating 
 Rochard Dobbs Speight for Congress. He was the 
 youngest member of Congress. He served two terms and 
 declined a re-election, desiring to devote his whole time 
 to his law practise, and to his growing family. (See his 
 address to his constituents in 1829.) Soon thereafter he 
 dechned an election to Superior Court Bench. In 1830 
 he delivered the commencement address at the University. 
 In 1838, in February, he moved to Raleigh. He pur- 
 chased a house and lot from George E. Badger in the 
 Northern part of the city, the adjoining square being now 
 occupied by the Governor's mansion. He was a man of 
 gi-eat personal popularity, always courteous, polite, 
 dignified, strictly honest and truthful. It was said of 
 him in the obituary which was written by his friend Geo. 
 
 Noin : //^ Ty{ta OIL -[2^73 ) 
 
W. Mordecai, ''No man ever doubted his word." His 
 appearance was fine and striking. He died in Raleigh, 
 N. C. on the 10th day of May 1870. 
 
 My mother, Mary W. Bryan, died in Raleigh, July 
 13th, 1881. They lived together happily, for nearly 
 fifty years. 
 
 At the age of six I started school in Raleigh, and after 
 several years entered the ''Raleigh Classical Mathe- 
 matical and ^Military Academy" kept by Jefferson M. 
 Lovejoy. The latter part of May 1852 several other 
 pupils of Lovejoy's and myself left Raleigh in private con- 
 veyance for Chai)el Hill to be examined for college. In 
 June I went back 'and became a member of the Freshman 
 Class, consisting of fifty-seven members I graduated with 
 first and second distinction, and delivered the Latin 
 Salutatory, a first honor speech at the commencement. 
 I graduated in June 1856. There was a class of fifty mem- 
 bers. After graduation I commenced the study of law 
 with my father in Raleigh. In June 1857 I obtained a 
 license from the Supreme Court to practise in the county 
 courts. After receiving my license to practice law I went 
 abroad for about four months. We were ten days in 
 crossing. I returned home in September 1858, and 
 secured an office in Raleigh opposite the present post 
 office. 
 
 On the 24th day of November 1859 I was married to 
 
 MisV jVIar y Biddk Nor cott. We were married in the 
 
 brick houseln'iNewBBrrTe known as the "Jarvis House," 
 
 on the south-east corner of East Front and Johnston 
 
 Streets. Rev. Thos. E. Skinner of Raleigh officiated. 
 
 tS After marriage we took a bridal trip south. We re- 
 
 i^turned to Bew Berne and have resided here ever since. 
 
 I rented an office in about a year and entered upon the 
 
 practice of law. In the fall of 1860 I purchased from 
 
 James and T. W. Miller, two Northern men, the old 
 
 Speight" planation and the "Jim Stanly" land adjoining. 
 
 The land runs from Trent River to Neuse, containing ac- 
 
 > cording to the deed 1801 acres. We are still owners except 
 
 ^* a few acres that have been sold off. 
 
 ^ ^ We were forced to "refugee" up country during the war 
 ^ between the States, and while there two of our children 
 ^^ were born. After the close of the war we went back to 
 I^ ^ New Berne with very little to live on. I managed to sec- 
 * Cn cure some rent from the plantation the year the war 
 ended. I got about twenty-seven bales of cotton, some 
 ^^ of which I sold for 52 J/^ cents a pound. I opened a law 
 
office in New Berne. With this and rents from the 
 plantation we managed to ''make buckle and tongue" 
 meet. We lived in rented houses for several years, and 
 on March 29th, 1870 we moved into our home on the 
 Neuse, where we have lived ever since. 
 
 We have had eleven children born to us, a list of which 
 I give as follows: 
 John Norcott, born October 3rd, 1860 in Greensboro, N.C. 
 
 died very young. 
 Sarah Frances, born at ''Company Shops," N. C, March 
 
 29th, 1862. (Married John B. Broadfott of Fayette- 
 
 ville, N. C, Oct. 15th, 1885.) jDii.^ 
 Frederick Charles born in Raleigh, N.f C, May 3rd, 1864. 
 
 (Married Letitia Allis Williams of SvraG«|aMfew Yprk, < 
 
 on September 28th, 1907.) l^^oU cIp^W/ (Myhjt^ 
 Mary Norcott Born in New Berne, January 20th, 1867. 
 
 Henr^ j-vctvcii&ciuit, uum m incw -uume, uctnuciiy j.sl, loi\j. ,^ 
 
 (Married Wilhe Law, of Raleigh, June 23rd, 1909.)- tJx 
 Shepard, born in New Berne, December 8th, 1871, cZi^ 
 
 (Married Florence King Jackson of Atlanta, Ga., 
 
 Jan. 14th, 1909.) ^ 
 
 Isabel, born in New Berne, April 5th, 1873. Died in 
 
 infancy. 
 Kate, born in New Berne, May 2nd, 1874. 
 
 (Married Franl^ S. Duify of New Berne, April 5th, 
 
 1899.) c^cj^^ /jee. 8//^y^-^ 
 
 Margaret Shepard, born in New Berne{ December 1st, 
 
 1875. 
 Edwin Speight born in New Berne, March 19th, 1877. 
 
 Died iainfancy. 
 Isabel Constance born May 10th, 1879 in New Berne, 
 
 (Married Edwin H. Jordan, Loudon County, Virginia, 
 
 November 16th, 1905.) 
 
 Three children have died in infancy, eight now remain 
 and are a great comfort in the declining years of their 
 parents. 
 
 The shadows are getting very low, particularly for me. 
 The days of the years of my pilgrimage are seventy and 
 six years. My wife's age is seventy-one. She was born 
 on the 11th day of March 1841. f 
 
I have filled a few offices during my uneventful life. 
 I have been Justice of the Peace, attorney for A. & N. C. 
 Railway, and for the Board of County Commissioners, 
 and also for the City of New Berne, and Mayor of said 
 city. Presidential Elector and in the Electoral College 
 voted for General Winfield S. Hancock. I have been 
 judge of the Superior Court of North Carolina. I was 
 on the bench for sixteen years (two terms) and at the age 
 of seventy-one years retired, my term having expired. 
 I have been all over the state, and held court in every 
 county several times. I served the state during my term 
 to the best of my ability, and endeavored to administer 
 justice without fear, favor, or affection. 
 
 I have never in that high and responsible office done 
 other than my duty as I understood it. My career is 
 now nearly closed, and I will soon be gathered unto my 
 fathers, and required to give an account of the deeds done 
 in the body. 
 
 48 
 
00032193929 
 
 This book must not 
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