Baehr-Evans Family History Ver. 22Feb2019

I attended Harper School for Kindergarten. My teacher, Mrs. Pohlman, was pregnant and always
had to leave the room sick. There was a skinny little boy named Rusty in my class. He had red hair,
white skin, and red freckles and had a crush on me. Every day at nap time, he would put his towel
down next to mine and stare at me. From that time on I hated red headed boys and decided I would
never marry unless I found a man with dark hair and plain skin.

Besides Rusty, there were some rotten older boys who would lie in wait for me as I walked home
from Kindergarten. They would hide behind some bushes mid-way between Harper School and
home and jump out and chase me. I was terrified and would reach home crying. Finally, my father
and I walked over to the boys’ house to have a chat with their mother. They lived off Seventeenth
Street. The house was dark and creepy, had dirt floors, and looked very poor. The mother just sat
there staring in silence. She dismissed us by saying, “It won’t happen again.” After my father’s talk,
the boys never ever came near me again.

My sister Kathleen was born in 1953. I was 8 and my mother became horribly crippled with
rheumatoid arthritis. I had to pin the diapers because my mother could barely use her hands. Since
I was so small, I wasn’t allowed to pick Kathie up when she cried, other than to hand her to my
mother. My main job was to run continually to the crib to make sure the baby was still breathing. Dr.
Davis did not allow us to leave a baby on its stomach for fear it would suffocate. I never knew what
I would have done if Kathie hadn’t been breathing.

Another early memory is of our playhouse which we called The Backroom. It had been a chicken
coop originally, but my mother painted and carpeted the room and turned it into a nice place for my
sisters and me to play. Behind the back room was a storage house full of scary old things and black
widow spiders. Once a family of possums lived there. On the next property behind ours was a
frightening house where we thought gangsters lived. Once I went selling Brownie cookies there and
peered in at a smelly mess. There were odd characters sitting around smoking. They didn’t buy any
cookies, of course, and my mother said I shouldn’t go back there. One day the police raided the
house and hauled everyone out in handcuffs. Peggy and I watched from The Backroom windows
then ran in to tell my mother about all the excitement.

The next eight years were at Saint Joachim’s Catholic School. I usually walked by myself , then
some older girl started coming by the house and putting me on the back of her bike. I didn’t know
her name and we never talked, but she took care of me every day until she graduated from Eighth
Grade. About Second Grade, I met Connie Loeser (Torres) and we became best friends forever.
Mainly we were inseparable, but at times, we would have extremely dramatic rows and the entire
class would be involved. We would not be on speaking terms for ages and then would make up at
last. The real splinter under Connie’s fingernails was that I wouldn’t allow her to read my diaries.
She never has read them. They are presently in a locked box and I am saving them for a great-
grandchild. My children can give the books to a descendant who is interested in history or genealogy.
The books will mean so much to a great-grandchild who will be thrilled to read about life in the long
ago and far away. I know how interesting my great-grandmother Edelblute’s writings of the late
1870s are for me.in the Twenty-First Century.

About Fifth Grade, Connie Loeser and I started sharing a bike to go to school. It was really my
bike, but Connie claimed half of whatever I had. One of us would run and the other would ride the
bike. We would change off every block or so. We were the skinniest two in the whole class.

I went to Mater Dei High School and Connie Loeser went to public school. We didn’t see too
much of each other for the next few years. When we did meet, she would introduce me to her friends
as the odd one who lived with both of her natural, biological parents. I guess that divorce was the
norm in those days, but I never paid much attention. Connie said that I was the only person she
knew who did not possess a string of step-parents and step-relatives.

~ 96~

When I was a Freshman at Mater Dei, I fell in love with a handsome boy with dark hair in the
Class of 1962, Ramón Evans. He never knew that I existed, and I was too shy to set up a casual
meeting. We even shared a civics class together, but never met formally. Our class was at 8:00
AM, one hour before the regular school schedule. Students were invariably late and one morning
the teacher, Coach Mischone, threatened us with our lives if one of us ever arrived late again. Just
when he finished yelling at us and said that we could then begin class, in dashed Ramón, ten minutes
past the hour, as usual. Coach simply threw up his hands and said, “I give up!” The entire class
burst into laughter and Ramón never knew what had happened.

Ramón’s sister, Connie, fixed up my first
date with him. He phoned and pretended
that he knew who I was, but he really had
no idea. I was just one of Connie’s little
friends. Our first date was December 28,
1962, to a movie. I don’t remember the title.
Then the official first date was on December
31 to a New Year’s Eve party with a friend
of his, Art Eichen, from Cal Poly University,
Pomona.

It was a strange evening. The other
couple was engaged to be married and sat
in the restaurant hugging and kissing all
night. Ramón and I didn’t have much to talk
about and the music was quite loud. Since
we weren’t at a hugging and kissing stage,
our evening was quite low keyed.

Anne and Ramón at the Mater Dei Prom

We dated for the next six years, interrupted by his two years (1966-1968) in the US Army, with duty in
Kansas and Vietnam, and my years at Mount Saint Mary’s College, Brentwood, Los Angeles, and my year
at La Universidad Ibero-Americana in Mexico City. There in Mexico, I met Cindy Tobias, who became one
of my life-long friends. While in college, I was looking for a unique challenge for my career and I interviewed
with all five of the military branches, including the National Guard and even with the Peace Corps.
Although I wanted to join a service, more than anything else, I wanted to be able to use my major, which
was the Spanish language. Back in those days, Spanish was not important to the military and the Peace
Corps wanted to send me to Korea.

~ 97~

Ramón was able to attend my graduation
from Mount Saint Mary’s in 1967. After
graduating from the Mount, I had an impressive
degree, but no job. The first offer I had was as
a Spanish teacher at St. John the Baptist
Catholic School in Costa Mesa, California.
After the initial days of torture as la señorita
Baehr, la maestra de español, I discovered that
the teaching profession held more of a
challenge than any other career. My dream to
join up with a service would have to wait for
several decades.

Ramón and I were married December 21, 1968. His mother bought my trousseau and my
wedding dress. The tailor was 4 feet, 11 inches and must have weighed about 3 hundred pounds.
While pinning my dress for alteration, she commented that she had been just my size when she
married. Ramón bought my beautiful mantilla in Tijuana for ten dollars. Our wedding was very small,
with family and a few of my students. I was teaching third grade that year. Connie Loeser Torres
and her husband, Alex, were matron of honor and best man. I didn’t know the first thing about
wedding etiquette and ended up making some social blunders.

Connie and Alex say that they are still waiting for an invitation. I figured that if they were my
attendants, then they knew they were invited. Ramón’s uncle, Lou Gonzálbez, made our beautiful
rings. I didn’t realize that I was supposed to pay for Ramón’s ring. Years later Ramón mentioned
that I still owed him for the wedding ring that he had to buy for himself. Oh, well.

My mother was even more of a prohibitionist than I am and requested that we not serve any
liquor at our reception. I gladly agreed with her. Ramón was shocked that he couldn’t have
champagne at his own wedding, but he willingly honored my mother’s wishes. I might have made
social errors, but I certainly made a perfect choice for a husband.

We flew to Lake Tahoe for a honeymoon, planned and paid for by Ramón. We stayed at Ludlow’s
cabins. The next morning Ramón brought me breakfast in bed. Suddenly, we noticed a terrible
smell coming from the kitchen. He had used an electric coffee pot on a gas stove. Ludlow’s never
charged us for the destroyed appliance. We spent quite a bit of money on car rental and gasoline
on our honeymoon. We used Ramón’s Union 76 credit card. Since I had never handled household
accounts before and did not know that I was supposed to wait for a credit card statement, I mailed a
check to Union 76, paying for all our expenses. The company sent us our money back. They never
did charge us for our honeymoon expenditures. Somewhere there is a Union (Unocal) accountant
who is short about $350.00. Oh, well.

We took a romantic trip East the following summer. Everything was perfect, but I was suffering
from morning and carsickness. I slept through most of the vacation and all through his lovely visits
with his grandmother, Beulah Truelove Evans Spiva, in Georgia. I was hardly conscious during our
drive to Ohio. Ramón and my Aunt Gerry Caler Challenger spent a few days shopping for antiques
while I slept in her guest room. I taught Spanish at Mater Dei during Fall semester of 1969. Also, that
year, we bought our first house, 1120 South Parton, Santa Ana, California. The house had been
built by a man named Conklin. His daughter sold us the house for about $20,000. Our realtor was
our friend Dick Seifert of Home Sales.

~ 98~

Chapter Sixteen

CHARLOTTE, LORRAINE & RACHEL EVANS

Charlotte Anne Evans was
born April 17, 1970. She was our
first born, a good baby, but quite
a handful. She always knew
exactly what she wanted, but
sometimes we had trouble
figuring out just what it was.
When she was just days old, my
mother and I took her to the first
office meeting with Dr. Davis.

Doctor looked over the baby
then turned to me. “The child is
fine. What I am worried about is
the mother.”

I felt fine; but due to lack of sleep, I had huge, black circles under my eyes and must have looked
like a wild woman. My mother came to the rescue and for the rest of her life became a helper and
second-mother to Charlotte. Ramón’s mother, Concepción Ann Gonzálbez Evans, also dedicated
her life to Charlotte. Between the two grandmothers, she was treated like a princess. Now looking
back, I guess Charlotte cried only when she had to come home!

Charlotte was brilliant. She spoke and reasoned early. Her formal education began in our
garage at our Parton Street house in Santa Ana. We set up an enormous Montessori style learning
center for her in half of the area. The other half housed Ramón’s junk and of course we never could
put a car away. The home-school was quite successful until the day I left three-year- old Charlotte
in the car, engine on, while I ran back to the kitchen for my thermos. During the seconds that I was
absent, she put the car into forward gear and drove up the driveway and through the garage door,
destroying her private pre-school. After the car crash, Charlotte and I joined Montevista public school
in the Newport District, near my parents’ house in Costa Mesa. Charlotte and I took the Orange
County bus to the school three days a week. I was the English expert in the class and Charlotte was
allowed to stay with me. It was a tri-lingual class--English, Spanish, and Japanese. The pre-
schoolers learned their lessons in all three languages. I was only the assistant, but I was paid twice
as much as the main teacher who did all the work. I had the California Teacher’s Life-Time Credential
and she didn’t. Poor lady! She exhausted herself with preparations and presentations while I simply
stood there looking important.

Charlotte was a very fast learner and her Spanish was remarkable. We took a trip to Europe in
1975 and Charlotte was an interpreter for her dad in Spain. She was a wonderful little traveler in
Europe and never shed a tear. Ramón and I had finally figured out all of her wants and honored her
opinions. What to wear was very important to Charlotte. I had packed a long, green, gypsy-style
dress for her to wear in Europe, on occasion--maybe for dinner on a mild Spanish evening. Well,
she didn’t holler, she didn’t cry, she just demanded to wear that same dress every single day for the
entire month’s vacation. I always did her hair in beautiful, thick braids, and with the gypsy outfit, she
looked like a princess out of an antique story book. And was she photographed! Asian tourists
would come up to us and motion that they wanted to take her picture. They would professionally
pose her sitting beside castle fountains or holding a flower in her hand. Then the cameras of entire
groups of tourists would start to click. I imagine that many an album in old Japan contains the
picture of a sweet little Spanish girl, name unknown, circa 1975.

~ 99~

Charlotte was to cry one last
time and that was when we
brought Lorraine home in April
1975. My parents had come to
visit the new baby and when we
walked them out to their car to
say goodbye, Charlotte was left
in the house. She was
convinced that we were
abandoning her now that we
had a replacement for her. She
was hysterical. We could not
calm her down. We called
Ramón’s mother who came to
pick up Charlotte. Charlotte
came back four days later and
after that, all was fine.

Lorraine must have heard all the yelling and decided that one screamer in the house was enough.
Lorraine was always a very quiet and happy baby. The worst and most unforgettable mood that
Lorraine ever entered was when she was two years old.

I was pregnant with Rachel and I guess that Lorraine was not receiving quality milk. Whatever
the reason, she turned into a little pest. The climax of her feistiness was on a drive to Georgia. I
was beside myself, and as usual, did not know what to do. Ramón started moralizing while he drove
and related the unending tale of the dreadful little girl named Fu-Fu and all the trouble she caused
her nice family. About two or three days into the story, Lorraine saw through to the truth. “I know!”
she exclaimed, “I am Fu-Fu!” From then on, Lorraine was her quiet, happy self; but for the next six
or seven years she asked for Dad’s Fu-Fu stories every night before she went to bed.

Charlotte had come home from the
hospital in an elegant pink outfit complete
from bonnet to tiny booties. Lorraine came
in an exquisite gown that Ramón’s relatives
had given us in Spain. It was delicate, and
the blue of the Sagrada Virgen.

Rachel was born August 20, 1977 and
she came home in a diaper and a sleeveless
tee-shirt. She never cried, was very quiet
and like her sisters, spoke and reasoned
early. She was never sick a day, which was
fortunate, for Dr. Davis died when Rachel
was young, and we were not able to find a
competent pediatrician afterwards.

~ 100~

We were very careful parents and always had the girls in child-carriers or tied on to us somehow.
When we went camping near Lake Isabella, California, we would put Charlotte on a leash, so she
wouldn’t fall off a cliff. But, one day at home, I was sitting reading to Lorraine and Rachel. They
were about 4 and 2. I became so tired, that I fell asleep and the two babies taped my mouth shut
with masking tape, dressed in their little jackets and hats, and ran away.

I was frantic when I woke up and went racing through the neighborhood looking for them. A
neighbor, Mrs. Davis, said that she had seen them walking down the highway (Fairmont Blvd.) that
paralleled our street. I didn’t even think of wasting time taking the car. I ran in that direction and
found the escapees a block down the hill. “Hi, Mommy!” said Lorraine. “We’re walking to Thrifty
Drug Store to buy ice cream!”

The girls were always busy. They spent time with the grandparents; they studied piano under
teacher Richard Poletick; they were in the YMCA Indian Princess Program with Ramón; and with me
there was much reading, going to the library, and taking bus trips. Bus trips to see my parents, bus
trips to the beach, and bus trips to no-where, just because! My mother taught Charlotte and Lorraine
to cook. Charlotte and Lorraine are quite accomplished cooks today and try to teach me some hints.
Rachel missed out on the cooking instructions, as my mother was very ill by time Rachel was born.
Rachel learned early culinary skills from me, so she started off at a disadvantage. She did catch up
fast and, by time she was 17, she was trying to instruct me how to wrap and cover leftovers properly.
Today she is a fine homemaker and an excellent cook. One of the best compliments she ever gave
me was, “Mom, I can’t believe this, but I am actually turning into you!” And the circle goes ‘round. I
too at times feel that I have turned into my own mother.

Charlotte, Lorraine, and Rachel were always close and happy sisters. Charlotte mothered the
two little ones and Lorraine and Rachel were peas in a pod. Rachel used to suck on Lorraine’s toe
as a pacifier. Lorraine never minded, keeping her toe clean and the baby quiet while I fixed dinner.
Lorraine and Rachel looked so much alike that many people thought they were twins, or one and the
same child. Neighbors Monty and Carol Montgomery were surprised one Hallowe’en to see the two
together. The Montgomerys always thought we had two daughters, the big one (Charlotte) and the
little one.

School was always important to the girls. Charlotte was in the Tustin District until fourth grade,
when we moved from Shasta Way in Santa Ana, to Fernglen Drive in Yorba Linda in the Placentia-
Linda District. Charlotte graduated from Mater Dei Catholic High School, Santa Ana. Lorraine and
Rachel graduated from Esperanza High School in Anaheim. Charlotte has a degree from the
University of California at Riverside, graduating Magna Cum Laude in anthropology. She earned a
Master of Arts Degree in Education from Chapman College, Orange, California.

Lorraine earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Psychology, graduating with honors from California
State University at Fullerton. Rachel also earned high grades in college, graduating with an
Associate of Arts Degree from Fullerton College and then a Bachelor of Science Degee in Geology
from California State University at Fullerton.

Unocal transferred Ramón to Texas in 1995. We lived in a lovely house at 2107 Morton League
Road, Pecan Grove, in the City of Richmond, Fort Bend County, about thirty miles south of Houston.
Rachel lived there with us for the first year and attended Wharton Community College. In 1996,
Lorraine flew to Texas and helped Rachel move back to California in a rented Penske. Charlotte and
Lorraine, and later, Rachel, cared for the family house in Yorba Linda, California, during the years
Ramón and I lived in Texas.

~ 101~

On August 3, 1996, Charlotte married Brian Dobyns. She is a Special Education teacher in the
Fullerton School District. She teaches a high school community transition program on the California
State University Fullerton campus. She was recognized as Teacher of the Year in 2011. Brian
taught wood shop and mathematics in the Montclair School District one year and now teaches high
school Spanish in the Corona-Norco Unified School District.

Ramón retired December 31, 1998 after thirty years at Unocal. Back in California, Ramón
volunteered to be the Yorba Linda coordinator for a group of tax preparers to assist low-income
seniors with tax forms. I recently retired from Santa Ana College, Rancho Santiago Community
College District, where I taught ESL since 1972.

I currently tutor Spanish and history classes at home. For many summers, Ramón and I went on
what we called a Great Adventure or tent camping trip. We sometimes traveled 10,000 miles in our
three-month long journeys. We had to travel in the summer, as our first two grandchildren were born
to the Dobyns family, and we volunteered to baby sit from Fall through Spring.

Brian and Charlotte lived in Anaheim, California,
for two years and back at the family home in
Yorba Linda for a while before they bought their
first house in Brea, California. Their first child,
Fiona Kathleen Dobyns, was born on July 20,
1999. Fiona attended Glenknoll Elementary
School, Bernardo Yorba Middle Shool and
Esperanza High School.
Currently, Fiona has a soccer scholarship to Cal
Poly University, Pomona. She began
attendance in 2017.

Now, the Dobyns live a few blocks from us at 19572
Larkridge Drive, Orange County land, with a Yorba
Linda mailing code.

In 2002, Aidan Ramón Dobyns was born on
October 7. In the photo are Grandfather Ramón
Evans, Fiona Dobyns, and Aidan Dobyns. Aidan
followed his sister at Glenknoll, Bernardo Yorba, and
Esperanza. He is currently Esperanza ASB Sports
Coordinator and plays on the Esperanza varsity
football team.

~ 102~

Lorraine married Pamela Johnston on
March 17, 2007. Lorraine and Pam Evans live
at 6760 Champagne Lane, right down the hill
from the Dobyns. Lorraine is a district
manager for Public Storage. Pam works for
the Automobile Association of America (AAA)
as an insurance claims adjuster
Lorraine and Pam Evans became the parents
of Maya Lorraine Belle Evans on October 04,
2014. Maya was baptized at St. Martin de
Porres Catholic Church on November 29,
2014. Her godmother is Melissa Money; her
godfather is Aidan Ramón Dobyns. Of course,
we now are back to our volunteer babysitting!

Rachel married Michael Gordon Spitz on June 17, 2005. She is the step-mother of his daughters,
Haley, born May 9, 1993, and Anna, born November 27, 1994. Haley and Anna are currently
university students. Rachel worked ten years as a Project Manager for PTS Laboratories in Santa
Fe Springs, California. She now is Geotechnical Designer at HDR in Irvine. She served two years
as Secretary of the Los Angeles Basin Section of the Society of Petroleum Engineers. Mike was a
communications engineer for Wells Fargo and now works for the AAA in communications. The Spitz
family resides in Yorba Linda, about three miles from us, at 4661 Santa Fe Street.

The above wedding photo shows Haley Spitz Falcioni and Anthony Falcioni with the Evans-Spitz
Dobyns-Salmas Clan in attendance at Pioneer Town, California, on May 29, 2016.

L>R: Anne and Ray Evans; Charlotte Dobyns; Rhonda Johnson and Ricky Chappell; Georgia
Spitz-with grandchildren Bentley and Jayden Chappell; Pamela Evans; Rachel (holding Maya
Evans), Mike, and Anna Spitz; Bride Haley Spitz and Groom Anthony Falcioni, Helene (seated),
Mary, and Erwin Spitz; Kathleen Baehr Salmas; Lorraine Evans; Fiona, Brian, and Aidan Dobyns;
Alex Salmas; Katie and mother Lily Spitz Lonke.

~ 103~

In January 2008, I read in the Yorba Linda Star about a United States Coast Guard Auxiliary
flotilla in Yorba Linda. I was amazed to discover that at 62 years of age, I could join the U.S. Coast
Guard Auxiliary. On January 17, Ramón and I enlisted and thus began an entirely new Great
Adventure as volunteers. We went into the Auxiliary with tremendous dedication. Among various
other duties, Ramón served as SO-VE at the division level (Staff Officer-Vessel Examiner) and is
now ADSO-PV (Assistant District Staff Officer-Program Visitor.). In 2010, I was elected Flotilla
Commander. I currently serve as ADSO for both Human Resources and Diversity, and in 2018, I
became Division 6 Vice Commander.

Ramón and Anne at Commodore’s Dinner, District Training 2018

~ 104~

Chapter Seventeen

SALMAS
The Salmas name entered the family when my sister Kathleen Baehr Scanlan married George
Salmas. His paternal grandfather was George Constantine Salmas. George Constantine was born
in Greece and was the principal of a high school and an algebra teacher in Athens. He married
Dimitra Papadakis, born in Kalamata, Greece. George Constantine Salmas died before 1948 and
Dimitra died in 1961 or 1962. Their son was Constantine George Salmas, known as Gus. Gus
Salmas was born on May 14, 1914 in the city of Kalamata, State of Messinia, Greece. Gus attended
high school and college and became a dental technician in Greece.

Gus Salmas came to the United States
in the late 1940s. In San Francisco he met
Susan Scoufos. They married March 13,
1948, in a Greek Orthodox church in Los
Angeles, California.

Susan Scoufos was the daughter of Constantine Scoufos and Olympia Georgeadis.
Constantine Scoufos was born in 1871 in Ankara, Turkey. Olympia Georgeadis was born September
17, 1890 in Ankara, Turkey. Olympia was orphaned at the age of 9 and knew little about her family.
Constantine and Olympia were married in Detroit, Michigan, in 1916. They lived in Detroit for four
years, then moved to Los Angeles. He was a baker of fancy pastries and she was a seamstress.for
Levi-Strauss Company.

The Scoufos couple had four children:
Abraham James (not pictured) Susan,
Sophie “Sonia,” and Evelyn.

“Yes, my mother was born in Turkey, but we are not Turks. We are Greek! My family, way back,
went from Greece to Turkey to better themselves. You know, people were spreading out all over
Europe and moving to America just to improve their lives.” Susan Scoufos Salmas, March 2000.

~ 105~

Susan attended San Francisco State College and worked as a teacher for thirty-two years. Her
husband, Gus, worked for Challenge Dairy Company in Los Angeles and for a glass company in
Torrance, California. Their first house was 742 Avenue A in Redondo Beach, California. They had
three children, George, born May 6, 1949; Olympia, and Dimitria.

“In the 1960s, we needed more room, so we went house hunting. All Gus wanted was a living
room with a high wood beamed ceiling and a paneled kitchen. The realtor took us to see the house
on Gertruda Street in Redondo Beach. Gus walked in the front door and said, ‘Okay, I’ll buy it.’ Then
he turned to leave. The realtor insisted that Gus view the rest of the house before making such a
decision. Gus argued, ‘Why? It has a nice ceiling and a paneled kitchen. That’s what I want, so I’ll
buy it.’ Needless to say, we bought the house.” Susan Scoufos Salmas, February 2000.

Gus and Susan’s son, George, earned his Bachelor of Arts at Long Beach State and his law
degree at the University of California, Los Angeles. He served in the US Navy and was stationed
in Spain. He married Kathleen Baehr Scanlan. Kathleen Baehr attended Mater Dei High and after
graduation, joined the US Army in a student nursing program. The Army paid her tuition for two
years at Mount Saint Mary’s College, Los Angeles, California; then, two years at Walter Reed Army
Hospital on the East Coast where she received her RN and Bachelor of Science Degree. She earned
her Master of Science Degree in Business Addministration when she was stationed at the Presidio
in San Francisco, California. While in the Army Reserves, Kathleen studied law and became an
attorney. She holds a Juris Doctorate.

Kathleen was working for the Secretary of Northrop Corporation when she met George Salmas.
“I never dated women lawyers. I asked Kathleen to dinner because I thought she was a secretary
in the law office, not a lawyer in the Secretary’s Office. During the evening conversation, it appeared
that she knew quite a bit about law. I was surprised to discover she was a lawyer. She was so nice!”
George Salmas, 1987. George married Kathleen on May 7, 1987 in Carmel, California. George
Salmas has a private law firm. Also, he was the lawyer for Cacique Cheese Company for many
years. In 2012, Kathleen rejoined the Army, as a volunteer in the CSMR (Californian State Military
Reserve). She maintained her rank of major.

George and Kathleen Salmas live in
Manhattan Beach, California, with their two
sons, Alexander Constantine Salmas, born
March 20, 1989 and Patrick Robert Salmas,
born May 25, 1993. Currently, both sons are
university students.
< Patrick, George, Kathleen, and Alexander.
Photo taken in 1998

~ 106~

Part Two: My Mother’s Family

Chapter One

JAMES W. CALER

The surname Caler could be German. Some of the variations of Caler include the following:
Cahler, Kahl, Koehler, Kahle, Kahler, Kähler, and Kahlert. These variations come from the Latin
word calvus meaning bald. Kahl was a nickname for a bald man; but Calu was a term to describe
bald hilltops. Caler is also a form of Koehler and Kolerman which mean collier or coal carrier. (1)
According to Cassell’s German and English Dictionary, Kahler can also mean poor, destitute of
money, threadbare. Other phonetic spellings are Keller, Kaller, Kaler, Calor, Kaehlar, Keighler. (2)
In Saxony, the name is spelled with an umlat over the letter “a” as in Kähler. Caler and Collier, could
even be English.

My aunt, Elizabeth Caler Dohar, told me that Kahler was the original spelling of the name.
“There were so many Kahlers, that the post-office requested that James W. Kahler change the
spelling of his surname to Caler. Mary Emma Edelblute Caler, James’ wife, told me this.”

Elizabeth Dohar, Warren, Ohio, October 1997.

“I always thought the Calers were English. I never heard that they were German.” (3)

Melvin Porter, Beaver County, Pennsylvania, July 2000.

The Caler belonging to my history is James W. Caler, born in September 1849 in West
Bridgewater, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. His father was Michael Kahler (3) and his mother was
Luanna Ecoff. The Ecoffs trace their lines back to the American Revolutionary War, but no firm
documentation nor DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) acceptance for me has been
established yet.

On the 1870 Census, Beaver County, Pennsylvania, Michael, 48, was a house carpenter. His
wife Luanna was 54. They had three children: David R., 24, (4), James, 19, and Sarah, 16.

Elizabeth Caler Dohar told me that James’ sister was Susan, according to the 1860 Census. In
the Mary Emma Edelblute Diary, the sister is referred to as “S.” James’ sister, Sarah or Susan,
died in 1882. James had a niece he called Birdie. In the Caler family, there is a Birdie Nannie Ileine
Caler, died March 17, 1877 at age 9 of typhoid fever, daughter of John Henry Caler and Mary J.
Moore, but Mary Emma Edelblute’s diary states that the Birdie who was the daughter of James’ sister
died as a baby. Maybe there are two individuals nicknamed Birdie or maybe the information is wrong.
Research continues!

In 1880, Michael Caler was 60 and listed as a car builder. Luannen (sic) was 64 and was listed
as keeping house. Also, on the 1880 Census, David R. Caler, 33, was married to Mary J, 27. Their
children were Coral V., 6, Harry N., 4, and Luanna, 2. I believe this David and my James were
brothers. David was listed as a carpenter in the Beaver County Directory, 1894-1895.

I have yet to find James W. Caler on the 1880 Census; but according to the diary of Mary Emma
Edelblute Caler, she and James were married by that time. Mary Emma’s parents and her brother,
William Edelblute, were living in Beaver County in 1880. James (Jim) had courted Mary since they
met in 1870. They married on March 21, 1877. Some how they missed being on the 1880 Census.

~ 107~

The following is from Mary Emma’s journal.

My best friend .is Mr. (Michael) Caler’s daughter, S, a very nice girl, fond of reading, and we began
our friendship by exchanging books and papers. She teases me a great deal about her brothers.
She says David, the elder, says he is going to wait for me, while Jim the younger, says I am the
prettiest little girl he ever saw. My brother, William, tells me that (Jim) is the only young man about
here who doesn’t use tobacco, and knowing how I hate the weed, added mischievously, “You had
better set your cap for him.” But I have no notion of setting my cap for anyone. I don’t want to think
about such things if I can help it, but the subject seems rather forced upon me.

On June 21, 1877, Mary Emma Edelblute Caler wrote the following in her journal. Three months
a bride. On March 21, we were married at the preacher’s, took the morning train for Steubenville.
There is just one cloud in the matrimonial sky, and that is Jim is more passionate than I ever thought
he could be. In all the seven years of our acquaintance, he never showed it in any way, and I thought
he would be so nice to live with. Now he seems to think because we are married, he has a right to
unlimited indulgence. Of course, I knew what would be expected of me as a wife and that I would
be expected to become a mother, but I think we ought to go to housekeeping and get something to
live on first. Then I don’t believe anyway to insist on a “nightly performance with no postponements
on account of the weather.” I try to reason with him, but he puts on an air of injured innocence and
poses for a martyr.”

According to Mary Emma, Jim was not attentive to her later and when he was not working, he
was loafing at the store. He became tight with money and what he earned, he spent on himself,
pocketing the rest. When she was pregnant with their child, Jim continued to demand his spousal
rights. Now that I am sick all the time, he won’t leave me alone.

By 1880, Jim and Mary Emma Edelblute Caler had been married three years and they had one
son, Raymond Robert Caler, born April 15, 1878. Jim had wanted a girl and Raymond Robert was
a great disappointment. Jim and Mary Emma had a girl ten years later, but the baby died at birth,
March 11, 1888.

Jim and Mary Emma moved a great deal during their first years of marriage. Mary Emma’s diary
does not mention states, so it is difficult to know whether they are in Ohio, West Virginia, or
Pennsylvania. Mary Emma wanted to stay in one place to set up housekeeping. At one point during
their first year of marriage, she indicated that she’d prefer to live with her mother, if Jim didn’t settle
into housekeeping. Jim became a jeweler and a watch repairman and seemed to need to travel for
business.

In 1880, there was a German tailor by the name of Henry Schenderlein, 52, living in Beaver
County with his wife, Frederica, 48, and their son, H. Theodore, 21, a moulder. They lived at lots 41
and 42 near or on Poplar and Mulberry Streets in the Borough of Bridgewater. Right to the north
was lot number 40, belonging to the Harns, Thornton,35 and Margaret, 37. The Harns had eight
children in 1880: Ada, 15, William, 14, Nellie, 12, Alice, 10, Lula, 9, May, 5, Lida, 3, and Thornton, 1.

By May 1891, Jim and Mary Emma were living next-door to the Harns. Mary Emma wrote in her
journal that Alice Harn lived next-door. I have known her all my life, and our families are all good
friends. It would be sad, indeed, to have any unpleasant feelings, but I can’t help thinking that her
younger sister, Lu, is trying to lead Jim astray. All last summer I knew he met her often at the ice
cream parlor...Since we moved up here, he has spent all his spare time with her, and she is over
here every day, always has some excuse for coming and then stays and talks with him. (James W.
Caler, a jeweler, was listed in the Beaver Valley Directory 1894-1895.)

~ 108~

On August 12, 1894, Mr. Schenderlein sold his two parcels of land, 41 and 42 in the Davidson
plan of lots, to James W. Caler. Also, by that year, Jim had begged his wife for a divorce; had been
refused; had ordered Lu (Lula Harn) to have an abortion; had accused his son of theft and had run
him out of the house; had set Lu in a dressmaking shop in Bellevue and was paying her rent; had
denied his wife food, clothing, and badly needed medical treatment; and had gone to the World’s
Fair! By 1896, Jim had asked Mary to sleep in a separate bedroom. So, one evening Jim came in
at bedtime and says, “I wish you would go in the other room to sleep. You thrash around so all night.
I can’t get any rest.” I said, “All right,” then I praised the Lord (that) deliverance had come.”

From the Journal of Mary Emma Edelblute Caler.

On November 21, 1899, James and
Mary Emma Edelblute Caler’s only son,
Raymond (Ray) Robert, age 19, married
Lola Alleman, age 17.

Lola was born 1882 in West Virginia.
Her father was Tobias Alleman, born in
Pennsylvania and her mother was
Mallisa, born in Ohio. Raymond Robert
and Lola had two children: Winola Caler,
born December 31, 1900, and Charles
Lester Caler, born October 9, 1902.
Raymond Robert Caler, my maternal
grandfather, is pictured here.

On the Census of 1900, Jim and Mary Emma were living in the same house together in
Bridgewater Borough, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. He was still a watch and jewelry repairman.
James and Mary Emma were divorced on July 1, 1904 in Beaver County Court, Pennsylvania. James
W. Caler died on October 17, 1907. In his Will, he left $100 to his son, Raymond; $200, watch, rifle
and all clothing to his brother, David; stock, shares, entire collection of gold, silver, nickel and copper
coins and currency and the contents of a chiffonier to Lula P. Harns; and all profits from property and
trust sales to his grandchildren, Winola and Charles Caler. (Charles Lester Caler died four years
later at the age of nine, April 11, 1912.) James Caler’s property, lots 41 and 42, were sold to Edward
S. and Edith S. Darragh on November 10, 1909 for $1,625. Nothing was left to James Caler’s ex-
wife, Mary Emma, and no mention was made of her.

While Raymond and his family lived in Ashtabula, Ohio, Mary Emma was a seamstress, working

in Coshocton, Ohio. On the Census of 1910, she was listed as a companion in the Rinehart home.

The family included Allen Rinehart, 43, his wife, Belle Mizer, 37, and their children, Ray, 18, and

Lester, 10. The Rineharts had married in Coshocton County, Ohio February 8, 1891. Since

Victorian ladies, like Mary Emma, could never live alone, a widow or a single lady would often

become a companion in someone’s home. When Mary Emma’s son, Raymond Robert Caler, married

his second wife, Bessie Maher Kelley, Mary Emma moved to Warren, Ohio, with them and lived in

their house until her death on October 12, 1942. In 1910, Lula Pearl Harn, 37, lived in the

house of her brother-in-law, Thomas Hitchin. Another boarder there was Edward Stansberry, age

40. Miss Harn was listed as a retail jeweler and Mr. Stansberry gave his profession as that of a

jewelry repairman in a jewelry store. On the 1920 Census, Lula and Edward were married. Lula died

July 28, 1937 at the age of 66.

~ 109~

James W. Caler’s granddaughter, Winola, and my mother, Mary, were half sisters, having the
same father, Raymond Robert Caler. There was never any social contact between the sisters in
Ohio. When my mother came out to California in the late 1930s, she did visit with Winola. My mother
was staying with Aunt Katie Maher Collins, (5) her mother Bessie’s youngest sister. Winola was
married to Sam Rauss in Mahoning County about 1919. Sam was Italian and there is a possibility
that his name was originally Castello. His father was Carmen Rauss and I believe his mother’s
maiden name was Mary Manners. After Aunt Katie’s husband, Matthew Collins, committed suicide,
Sam Rauss came around to help the unhappy widow. Aunt Katie was shocked when she discovered
the reason for her relative’s ardent attentions.

I knew Winola Caler Rauss in California. The first I remember of her was in the 1950s. She and
Sam had two children, John Robert (Bob) and David. I never met the sons, but I did see pictures of
them. Bob was extremely handsome. Through research with his niece, Daveie Rauss, we found my
cousin (her uncle) Bob in 2004, but he died just days later. David Rauss (born in Ohio, June 14,
1923) died August 9, 1953 in California in an automobile accident. Winola told us about the horrific
crash site. David left a wife, Cindy, who was three months pregnant. Daveie Rauss was born in
February 1954.

My parents, my sister Peggy, and I were invited occasionally to Sam and Winola’s for dinner. The
house was in Torrance, Los Angeles County, California. It was always an ordeal to drive so far from
the neighboring Orange County. There were no freeways in those days, and my father told me he
had to make the long drive down Lincoln Avenue to where it became Carson Boulevard in Torrance.
I remember that the Rauss home was impeccably clean. Peggy and I were always perfect little
guests. We never spoke and never moved. My mother was so terrified that something would go
wrong or that an item would be dirtied or broken. Sam and Winola did all the talking and the subject
centered upon their dog, Trudy. Trudy was probably the second most ugly dog I had ever met in my
life. (Trudy’s competitor was Grandma Baehr’s landlady’s dog, FiFi., probably the ugliest dog I’ve
ever seen!) Trudy had short, almost shaven in appearance, grey hair. She was big and wore a choke
chain about her neck. Winola and Sam had professional photographs made of her every Christmas.

The Rausses never spoke to Peggy or to me. When my sister Kathie was born in 1953, they
never mentioned the baby. They never even asked about us, and my mother would be so irritated
by her half sister. We all just sat in the parlor after dinner and smiled and nodded about the Trudy
stories. Usually at the end of the visit, Sam would take us for a drive in his latest new car.

One evening after the drive, we saw that the kitchen door was standing open. The house had
been burglarized. The police were called immediately. I remember following a detective down the
hall, as we peered into the bedrooms. All Sam’s guns and Winola’s jewelry and coin collection were
gone. I guess that was the end of the inheritance she received from her grandfather, James Caler.

The last we saw of Sam and Winola was one Christmas when they came with a basket of food
for us. We were living at our house on Tustin Avenue in Costa Mesa. They refused to come in and
merely handed us the basket at the door.

My mother was so upset. She hated being treated like the poor relations. She had always carried
the feeling that her half-sister looked down on her. We took the basket--it was very pretty, green and
white--and set it on the chair by the door. Sam and Winola just watched. My mother had no idea
what to do. Did they want her to unload the food and give them their basket back? My mother told
us later that she didn’t want the basket; but opted to keep it, since she didn’t know what else to do.

We lost track of Sam and Winola; and after my mother died in 1981, no more thought was given
to the Rauss family until decades later. Winola died on November 22, 1985 in California.

~ 110~

SAMUEL AND WINOLA RAUSS
By DAVEIE RAUSS

My name is Daveie Rauss. I was Winola and
Samuel Rauss's youngest granddaughter. Due to
boxes being lost on a move from Texas to
California in the mid 1950s, when I was a toddler,
my mother, Cynthia, lost all contact with the Rauss
side of the family.

David, Winola and Samuel's younger son,
was my father. He died in an auto accident,
August 9, 1953, about six months before my
birth. This photo of David Rauss was taken in
the late 1940s.

David Rauss was married first to Eldoria Elizabeth Reeves and they had two daughters in
Houston, Harris County, Texas. Annita Kathryn Rauss was born February 3, 1946 and Lola Faye
Rauss was born December 6, 1947. All I know is that they are very nice. In 1956-1957, they moved
to a small town out-side Houston. I do know that Annita and Lola had a lot of experimental eye
surgeries to correct cross eyedness. When Annita was 41 years old, she married 38-year-old Joe
H. Breeden on December 21, 1987 in Montgomery County, Texas. Lola was married twice. At 35
years of age, she married 23-year-old Thomas Smith, March 10, 1983 in Gregg County, Texas.
When she was 47, she married 33-year old Micheal D. McHenry on January 24, 1995 in Van Zandt,
Texas.

When I was going through the Texas Death Records, I put Lola's name in, only to find that she
passed away January 18, 1992. It proved to be a long night. My mom is being pretty quiet right
now. She was very fond of the girls, as she called them. She had always hoped that I would find
them.

~ 111~

About twelve years ago, my mother gave me her copy of my dad's death certificate. That came
about after my telling her the problems I'd had with a Lockheed security clearance back in 1983. I'd
ended up telling Lockheed to go ahead and exhume David because I wasn't going to bother my
mother for it. David's death has always been a very tender subject with my mother. I don't think she
has ever gotten over it.

My mom said that she and Winola were the only ones permitted at my dad's funeral, which seems
strange to us. David's funeral was an open-casket funeral. I remember my mom telling me a few
years ago about it. Mom still remembers how she felt when she reached down to touch David's
forehead to find it was reconstructed of plaster of Paris. Strange. David was dropping friends off on
his way home. They had been attending a party on some friend's yacht, yes, the good life, which he
enjoyed. They got into a head on collision with a husband and wife who were between janitorial
accounts. The husband was killed instantly, and the wife died three days later. Although David’s
passenger went through the windshield due to force of impact, estimated speed at impact was about
160 MPH, he wasn't found for a few days. A gas station attendant noticed something flapping on
the roof, then went up to investigate, and he found that it was my dad's best friend and it was his
jacket that was flapping. Actually, according to the Los Angeles Times, the flapping garment was a
lady’s dress. The male passenger was dressed as a woman, complete with corsage and high heels.

David had limited vision, blind in his left eye from a fight, and he liked to drive fast. He had been
drinking and may have fallen asleep. Who knows. The bottom line is that the accident took four
lives on a very dangerous part of the road. I do know it was billed as a DUI accident and I do know
they had to cut everyone out of the cars.

The coroner and the Rausses, including my parents, had all been good friends. Later that day,
the coroner called my grandmother's house. Sylvia, my aunt who was only 10 years old at the time,
took the call. The coroner told her that he didn't know if this was good news or bad news, that David
had been killed in a car accident earlier that morning.

David's father, Sam Rauss, took care of identification and all funeral arrangements. The mystery
is why the coroner, mortician, and everyone else involved, went to jail/prison within a year of the
accident.

My mother always thought that Samuel and Winola didn't care much for her and me. I have been
told that Winola always favored Robert and really didn't care much for David. One story that I
remember is that Robert robbed a store or something and when the police came to the home to
question them, Winola not only provided an alibi for Robert, she also turned David over to the police,
stating that David committed the robbery. Needless to say, it left David very bitter.

About my upbringing, I remember when there were six of us living in a small two-bedroom duplex
in Hayward, California. My step-father, Nick, was renting a room in Lompoc, CA, and commuting
from Vandenburg Air Force Base to Hayward every week. He would get in very late on Friday nights
to leave again early every Monday morning. It's funny that after World War II, California was
considered the land of opportunity, land of milk and honey. So many families followed their dreams
long after the jobs ran out. Lack of work in the construction industry is how we ended up in San
Jose. It sure beat the year we spent in Tucson, Arizona.

Daveie Rauss, compiled from e-mail letters to Anne Baehr Evans, March 2001.

~ 112~

Endnotes: Part Two: Chapter One

1. German American Names: George F. Jones: Genealogical Publishing Co. Baltimore, MD 1990.

2. There is a Michael Kahler 5-07-1847 listed in the Philadelphia Naturalization Records: Ed.:
William Filby, Gale Research Company, Detroit, Michigan, 1982, page 313.

In 1849, there was a carpenter by the name of Michael Calor in the Borough Township of
Bridgewater, Beaver County, Pennsylvania. His name was on the tax records of 1841-1850. There
was another Caler on the 1832 records. Unfortunately, the Beaver tax records, which are kept in
storage mines, go back only as far as the year 1889. In Germans to America List of Passengers
Arriving at U.S. Ports: I find a Michael Kahler, born in 1822. He was a farmer from the village of
Oberdorf in the province of Württemburg, Germany. He arrived in New York aboard the sailing
vessel, Inca, on April 22, 1853. (Page 365, Volume 4.) On the 1850 Census, Beaver County, Moon
Township, Pennsylvania, I find a Michael Keller, born in 1822 in Pennsylvania. He is listed as a
farmer, living in the house of Henry Lundis, 40, Margaret 59, Henry Robert 14, Elizabeth 6, Margaret
3, and Samuel,11 months. According to the 1850 Census, Michael Keller owned eight-hundred
dollars worth of real-estate.

There are more Calers, Kalers, Kellers, and Kallers in Beaver County in 1850. In History of
Beaver County, are Michael and Susana Nicholas Caler, natives of Beaver County, of German and
English origin. Michael was a riverman. He and Susana had nine children. The oldest was John H.
Caler, a blacksmith, born in August 1833.

I have found a JOHANN SIMON KAHLER age 22 on the Ship Neptune that came from Hamburg
under Captain William Maclane and entered Pennyslvania on December 12, 1754. The following
day Johann Simon Kahler passed the usual qualifications for foreigners before William Plumsted,
Esquire, Mayor of the City of Philadelphia. The following report was made to the governor.

“We have this Day carefully examined every Person we could find on Board the Ship
Neptune, Capt Mellum, from Hamburg, and saw only one man who was ill. He has a fever, but
no symptoms that show it to be malignant or contagious. The Ship is large and has not above 150
Freights on Board. The Captain says the People have been healthy in the Voyage that he has lost
only three Freights and three Children. Mr. Trotter after examining the different Parts of the Ship
informed us that no sick Person on board had been concealed in any Part of her from us, we therefore
do no apprehend there is any contagious Fever amongst either the Marines or Passengers of this
Vessel, nor any other Disease we have discovered that can infect the Inhabitants of the City...

The Captain waited on the governor & made oath before him that he had not concealed from the
Doctors any sickly persons nor imported any sickly persons to be landed before they came to visit
the ship after which the ship was permitted to come up & the passengers to be qualified.”
Pennsylvania German Pioneers, page 674.

2. In 2018, there is research being conducted which sheds doubt on the Caler’s possible German line.
My cousins Maryam and Betsy, daughters of my aunt Elizabeth Anne Caler Dohar, had their DNA
checked. There was no mention of German, nor Northern Europe, ancestry. There is a possibility that
we are on the wrong line: I found the following in One World Tree by Ancestry: Parents of James W.
Kahler were Michael Kellagher (11 June 1821-1893) and Luana Ecoff (1861-) In the LDS Family
Search files is a Michael Kelleher on an immigration list on the ship Hutchings, which arrived at the
Port of Boston, April 22, 1848. Further research on the Kahler origens is necessary.

~ 113~

If the German line Kahler is our ancestor, then we can assume that he was of fair health when he
arrrived in the American Colonies. His name was not marked as one being transcribed from the
cursive Hebrew script, so he might not have been of the Jewish faith. Johann Simon Kahler, born
circa 1732, was a young man traveling alone, for no others named Kahler are on the ship lists. The
Neptune had 147 1/2 whole freights from Hamburg, Hanover, and Saxony. Kahler came aboard at
the port of Hamburg, but he could have been from Hanover or from a kingdom in Saxony. In 1732,
on board the ship Adventure, was a thirteen-year-old boy named Jn. Jacob Cahler. Since spelling
changed from one list to the next, there can be no confirmation of our family line yet.

In Morgan County, Ohio, Rebecca Kahler married Daniel C. Chandler on January 27, 1836.
Andrew Kahlor married Susan Pyle on January 1, 1837 and William Kahler married Georgianna
Johnson on December 3, 1837. In Cosochton County, Ohio Andrew Kaler married Margaret Buker
on October 29, 1854

On the Württemberg Lists are Christian Koehler (born February 1831 in Besigheim Germany,
emigration application July 1857 and Elizabeth Koehler (born in Boehnigheim, Germany, emigration
application June 1848.
In 2018, genealogists Robert Porter in Beaver County, Pennyslvania, and Rand Bissell in Georgia
are researching the early line of Calers. More information will surely be found in the future.
3. Michael died on March 19, 1890 at 3:00 A.M. He died intestate, or without a Will, and his sons,
David and James Caler gave permission to Edwin Stanton Weyand to administer the estate. Edwin
Stanton Weyand is on a list of attorneys from Beaver County in History of Beaver County by Joseph
Bausman. The date of Mr. Weyand’s permission to practice in the Beaver County Courts was May
31, 1892. Gleanings: Beaver County Genealogical Society, September 1997, Volume XXII, Page 6.

4. I believe that my great-grandfather’s brother David Caler fought in the Civil War. Private David
Caler, age eighteen, enlisted in New Brighton, Beaver County, Pennsylvania, in July 1863. He
was mustered into the 56th Regiment of the Pennyslvania Volunteer Infantry, Company E. History
of Beaver County PA: Joseph Bauman, 974.892. Repository: Salt Lake City, Utah. LDS Library.

5.

Photo of Aunt Katie Maher Collins and
dog Cookie about 1940

~ 114~

Chapter Two

THE JOURNAL OF MARY EMMA EDELBLUTE CALER
INTRODUCTION

My mother’s grandparents on her father’s
side were Mary Emma Edelblute Caler
(pictured) and James W. Caler. James was
the son of Michael Kahler and Luanna Ecoff
Kahler. Luanna was born circa 1816,
probably in Maryland. Her parents might
have been born in Delaware in the late
1700s. The name Ecoff (1) is German and
means “oak farm.” Other spellings are
Eckhoff, Eckholt, Eckhorn, Eckhorst,
Eckhusen. People with the surname Ecoff
are also referred to as “Leute von die
Wohnstätte bei dem Eichengehölz,”
meaning “People in the dwelling place by
the oak thicket.”

On March 2, 1969, Aunt Tiny Dohar wrote the following. As far back as I can remember

Grandma Caler--who was Mary Emma Edelblute--once had her Edelblute side of the family tree

traced and found it went back to Hernando De Soto, the explorer who discovered the Mississippi. I

think maybe this is why the name Edelblute which means Royal Blood is connected with De Soto. It

was possibly a title bestowed on his family because of his work. A couple of men from Germany

visited the Rectory the other day and they said Edelblute is reserved for royalty even now in

Germany. Elizabeth “Tiny” Caler Dohar, 1969

Since the majority of our ancestors were simple folks, we might discredit any claims to important
personages. On the other hand, many times the stories of the old people did have some basis in
fact. The Edelblutes just might be related to someone who was with an early French or German
exploring party from Europe. Researcher Linda Bodkins Harris claims our Edelblutes go back to
Baron or Count James Christian Edelblute, born in 1699 in Dϋsseldorf, Germany. LDS files suggest
French origins in the Alsace-Lorraine area. A French spelling of “Edelblute” appears as “Heddebout.”

In the middle ages, Edel was a term that applied to the lowest order of free citizens ranking
below the nobility and knightly class, but above the masses of the servile population. Also, there is
a Yiddish female name Eydl, meaning Noble. (2) Mary Emma’s grandfather was Christian Edelblute,
born 1786, “on the ocean”, (1880 Census) supposedly on a ship coming to America from Germany.
Christian married a widow, Lydia Haven(s) on August 23, 1825 in Morgan County, Ohio.

~ 115~

Ferdinand George Edelblute (pictured), son of Christian & Lydia, was born in
1827 in Licking County, Ohio. Ferdinand died July 17, 1890 in Beaver County,

Pennsylvania.

Ferdinand Edelblute married Elinor
Lamb. Their two children were Mary Emma
Edelblute (shown left) born May 31, 1856,
in McConnelsville, Morgan County, Ohio,
and William Benton Edelblute, born August
14, 1859.

The Edelblutes moved from Steubenville, Jefferson County, Ohio, to Beaver County, Pennsylvania,
about 1860. Ferdinand’s brother was Theron Edelblute, the Civil War soldier mentioned earlier in this book.

~ 116~

Mary Emma Edelblute married James W. Caler (Kahler) on March 21, 1877. Their child was
Raymond Robert Caler, born April 15, 1878, in West Bridgewater, Beaver County, Pennsylvania.

I am afraid, writes Aunt Tiny Dohar, the Caler side of the family wasn't much on taking pictures.
I had a tin-type of my father, but for the life of me, I couldn't find it. I don't think there ever was a
picture of your great-grandfather, Jim Caler. I have never seen one and I had most of Mary Emma’s
treasures before they were thrown away when the family moved from Longfellow Court.

Elizabeth Caler Dohar.

One treasure that was saved from a spring-cleaning was the journal kept by Mary Emma
Edelblute Caler. She began her beautiful manuscript in 1870. The diary begins when she is a castle
building fourteen-year old with too many beaus and ends twenty-six years later when she was
delivered from spousal obligations. Her opinion was that beaus are like measels (sic) and whooping
cough, you have got to worry through them somehow.

Mary Emma mentions her various near fatal ailments, including a fall on the head that affected
her hearing and prohibited her from returning to school. She wrote: And I did so much want to get a
good education. She also had brain fever, La Grippe (grip, influenza), toothache so bad that she
had neuralgia all the time, suffered from neglect, torments, starvation, and a mysterious condition.

I began taking treatment Feb. 1, (1892) soon found that my condition was more serious than I
had supposed. Laceration and retroflexion, besides the inflammation and prolapses, make a long,
tedious treatment necessary, and as Jim says, he can't stand the expenses, I suppose I shall have
to get up and go to work again with no prospects of being cured.

Mary Emma Edelblute Caler.

The People’s Home Medical Book, from The People’s Home Library, published by the R. C.
Barnum Co. of Cleveland, Ohio, 1915, mentions the condition of prolapsus, along with its possible
treatment. Now I must guess whether Mary Emma had prolapsus ani in which the bowel hangs out
the anus, or prolapsus uteri when the womb falls outside the vagina. Taking into consideration Mary
Emma's word usage, I will assume that she had prolapsus uteri. Somehow, I wonder if she hadn't
read about these symptoms and then decided that she too had a serious disarrangement of her body
parts. Her complaints seem to have a textbook ring to them. For a lady who could not continue her
education because of a blow to the head, she had quite an extensive medical vocabulary.

In People’s Home Medical Book, I find information that was probably taken from medical
studies available to the public in the late 1800s.

LACERATION or tearing of the neck of the womb is of very frequent occurrence. In almost every
case of labor there is tearing of this part to a greater or lesser extent. p. 377

RETROFLEXION OF THE WOMB means a bending backward of the uterine or womb axis.
Retroflection is a disease of women who have been pregnant and have borne children. p. 376

(Mary Emma's inflammation could have been discomfort of the mucous membranes of the
body of the uterus or womb or inflammation of the cervical mucous membrane. The treatment for
cervical inflammation required attention first to the laceration and displacement problems. Then the
long-term treatment began.)

TREATMENT: Give some general tonic treatment, such as Blaud's pills, the prescription for which
is here given. Take 2 drams each of pulv. ferri sulph. exsic & potass. carb. purae; make into a mass;
divide into 48 pills and take 3 or 4 a day. Bitter tonics and tonic herb remedies are good. Local
treatment must be administered carefully. A great deal of harm is done especially by the application
of harsh remedies and by the unclean way in which they are so often applied. Injections of golden
seal and witch hazel often do good.

~ 117~

PROLAPSUS UTERI: Complete prolapsus or falling is when the womb protrudes outside the
vagina. p. 374. The long, tedious and expensive "treatment" for prolapsus indubitably contributed
to Mary Emma's torments.

TREATMENT: First of all, restore the perineum by operating. Rest in bed and assume the chest
position 3 or 4 times a day for from 5 to 15 minutes at a time. Put the chest on the bed, draw the
knees up and rest on them and the chest. This position throws the womb up and forward. Keep the
bowels open. Use one or two vaginal douches each day of a 1 to 4,000 bichloride solution or use
home remedies as injections. Witch hazel is very good or beth root or white oak bark tea. These
injections should be continued for a long time. Make a strong infusion of witch hazel and inject twice
a day. If the womb has completely protruded it must be put back carefully with the hands if it cannot
be put back by assuming the knee chest position. In this trouble, the womb often comes out after a
stool. You should then use the bichloride douche as it is cleansing and thoroughly antiseptic. Or if
you do not have this solution, you should wash the womb with warm witch hazel tea; then annoint
the fingers with vaseline and gently push the organ back into the vagina. Then inject cool witch hazel
and remain in bed for several days. Continue using the witch hazel as an injection. Use the bed
pan for the bowels and the urine so as to avoid getting up. Frequently assume the knee-chest
position. p. 375

Another suggestion for the victims of prolapsus was the use of pessaries, or supports, all
unpleasant and irritating to wear. Besides white oak bark tea, there were injections of teas of alum,
geranium, hops, Solomon's Seal, and peach leaves. When the patient was completely devastated
by the cure, she could drink a cup of spearmint-marshmallow tea.

~ 118~

THE JOURNAL OF MARY EMMA EDELBLUTE CALER

May 31, 1870

A castle building school girl just fourteen, “plain as a pipestem and queer as Dick’s hat band”
someone said about me once. Can’t remember who. We move around so much, and I have to go
to a new school, be stared at by curious eyes, and criticized by curious tongues. How I despise it
all. How I wish I wasn’t so sensitive. Other girls don’t seem to have feelings. Mine are always
getting hurt, and then I cry til my head aches.

Mama says I am foolish, and I know it, but can’t help it. Papa says, “Cheer up Dot, hop on hop
over,” which is his way of saying “hope on, hope ever.” I surely have a great deal to make me happy
and yet I can’t help thinking how much better our circumstances might be if everybody did right. Dear
me, does ever anybody always do what is right? At school in Steubenville (3) we used to sing “Oh,
what a world this might be, if hearts were always kind. If in friendship none would slight thee. And
fortune prove less blind, then angel guests would brighten the threshold with their wings and love
divine enlighten the old forgotten springs.”

How happy I was there and how I hated to leave. I was getting along so nicely with my studies
and making friends, but Papa’s work didn’t suit him, and he heard of something he thought better,
so we moved to Allegheny, but Mama didn’t like it there. One day, Mr. Caler who works in the same
shop with Papa said, “You ought to move to Beaver County where I live, healthful location, cheap
rents and within two hours ride of the city. You could work there and board at home.” So, he came
down, rented a house, and in a short time we moved (in or before 1870). I didn’t like the place at all
at first and made all sorts of fun of the people but am more reconciled now. However, I got so
homesick for Steubenville that they let me go down on a visit last summer.

Mama says it is the G. family that are the attraction there. She thinks I am too fond of them, but
I don’t think so. They are so kind to me I can’t help liking them, and I do feel very much at home
there. L the oldest daughter was my S. S. (Sunday School) teacher and E, the youngest, my most
intimate friend. Of the two sons still at home, J. is the elder and better looking and more refined and
so full of fun that I can’t help liking to be where he is. But G (George) the younger and nearer my
own age, seems to care more for me. I never thought of “keeping company” with anyone when I
went down there, but every evening G’s friend S. would call to see E. (Emma) and we would all go
down the street to get ice cream, then come home and sit on the door step until bed time. G. was
very pleasant and agreeable, but there was nothing objectionable or lover like about his attentions.
He asked me to write to him, and I did, with Mama’s consent. I still hear from him about once a week
and his letters are written in a simple, friendly, schoolboy style.

My best friend here is Mr. (Michael) Caler’s daughter Sarah (Susan), a very nice girl, fond of
reading, and we began our friendship by exchanging books and papers. She teases me a great deal
about her brothers. She says D. (David) the elder, says he is going to wait for me, while Jim, the
younger, says I am the prettiest little girl he ever saw. Brother Will (William Benton Edelblute) tells
me that he is the only young man about here who doesn’t use tobacco, and knowing how I hate the
weed, added mischievously, “You had better set your cap for him.” But I have no notion of “setting
my cap” for anyone. I don’t want to think about such things if I can help it, but the subject seems
rather forced upon me.

~ 119~

Last summer David. went away to work and asked me to write to him. Mama heard him and did
not object. A few letters came in on an ordinary, friendly tone; then an ardent declaration of love
with the statement that he would wait years for the blessed privilege of claiming me. Bah! I never
was so disgusted in my life. At first, I thought I wouldn’t answer it at all. Then I thought I would give
him his setting down. Then I concluded to ask Mama’s advice, and she said to answer him kindly
but firmly, refusing to listen to anything more on the subject as I was much too young to know
anything about such matters. I did so and in due time came the answer. He was pleased to find so
strong a mind in one so young. He wasn’t in earnest, only wanted to try me etc. Hump! I hope he
is satisfied. Really, I had no idea that love affairs were so disagreeable. I can never have any
confidence in any man now. I wish they would let me alone, but they won’t. When I went to my first
party I went with S. and supposed, of course, I would come home with her.

The first thing I knew, here was her brother, Jim, asking for my company home, and she was
sailing down the steps, hanging on a man’s arm. Since then, whenever the young people from the
hill go anywhere, he goes with me as though it were a matter of course. During the winter, there
were a great many parties. David came home and soon the old friendly relations were established.
One evening they were both here and David was coaxing me to go to (the town of) Freedom to a
dance, said the other girls were going and needed me to complete the crowd. At first, I refused, but
finally consented. Then Jim spoke for the first time.

“Well, are you going?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“All right. I must go over home and change my clothes.”

Then I thought it looked like as though he didn’t want to go but was determined I shouldn’t go with
David. Well, we all went, and though David is going with a girl up there, he managed to dance with
me a good many times. When we go to other parties where they play games, David does not go,
and Jim seems to like them the best. I wonder how it will all end anyway. Here I am going to school
and having my mind distracted with these things. Mama doesn’t want me to go to dances. Still she
doesn’t object, and when I am out late at night will not waken me in time to go to school. I am fond
of company and music and do not see any harm in parties. Still, if they interfere with duties or have
a tendency to lead my thoughts in a low channel, I will give them up.

The girls at school tease me unmercifully about Jim, they say he is a green gawky, not my equal
intellectually, and never will amount to anything, etc. I thank them for their solicitude and tell them
there is such a thing as a diamond in the rough. He makes a very good big brother, and since I must
have an escort when I go out in company, I would rather have him than anyone else I know. He is
very quiet and doesn’t bother me when I want to study or write. He drops in every evening, and if
not, is here in the afternoon. Sometimes I find him here when I come home from school, but he
doesn’t make me think that I have to entertain him. He will sit and read while I write to B. and never
even ask me who I am writing to. But David is different, won’t even let me write my spelling lesson
when he is around, and one night he took one of G.’s letters away from me, took it home and read
it, then gave it back to me the next day, not a very gentlemanly trick, but there was nothing in it that
I cared for. The two brothers do not seem very brotherly. I hope I am not promoting strife between
them. They needn’t concern themselves about me, for I don’t care a straw for either of them. It is
easy to talk to David. He is pretty well informed, and I am fond of using “big words,” so we have
some interesting conversations. I asked him once how old he thought I was. He said to look at me
I was about fourteen, but to talk to I was about twenty-five. I didn’t know whether to take it as a
compliment or not.

Papa says I was “born old” so I suppose I can’t help it. I mean I can’t help being old any more
than I can help being born, not having been given a voice in the matter.

~ 120~

But I am pretty sure if anyone had come to me, wherever my place of abode might be, and said,
“there is a place called the world, where you will be alternately frozen and roasted, suffering from all
the ills the flesh is heir to between times; where you will be tormented by your enemies,
misunderstood by your friends, and always be subject to worry and vexation of spirit, where you will
live for a few years, then die and be forgotten. Will you be born?”

Yes, I am very sure that I would have declined the invitation. However, since I am here I must make
the best of it and who knows but I may yet accomplish something in the world. This is my birthday
and I was just wondering how it would feel to be forty instead of fourteen. If I could lift the veil that
hides the future, would I do so? Never if it is to be bright, I should neglect to improve the present,
while thinking of it. If gloomy, then I should worry. So, I am content to live one day at a time.

June 20, 1870

I got a letter from Steubenville stating that my friend E. G. was coming up on a visit and wanted
me to meet her at the station. I thought I should have plenty of time, so I went and took my music
lesson first, then got to the station just five minutes too late. I started home and as I was passing
Miss B.’s I heard her say, “There is Mame Edelblute now.” I looked in and there sat E natural as life.
It seems that her brother J has been corresponding with Miss B. She had been to Wheeling (West
Virginia) to visit her sister and he had met her there. He knew what day she was going to return and
had put E. on the same train, so when they did not find me at the station, Miss B. told E. to come
home with her, and she would go with her up to our house when it got cooler. Of course, there was
a joyful meeting and I brought her home with me. We are having grand times, expect to go to
Allegheny to spend the Fourth of July. E. is very gay, fond of dancing and knows all the steps to
perfection. She is rather short and stout, wears short dresses; of course, she is only thirteen and
looks so cute on the floor. J. borrowed an accordion for her and she plays all the popular tunes while
the rest of us girls practice steps in the kitchen. The boys are going to build a platform on the green
across the street and have a dance some evening. So, we are fixing up our finery. I am going to
wear a green and white dress with pink ribbons and E. is going to wear white with green ribbons. It
is to be a select crowd and we expect to have a pleasant time.

July 15, 1870

Well, the dance is over and now I am getting ready to go home with E. We had a very nice time.
There was one circumstance occurred which I wish to make note of. A stranger (the only one there)
came up to me without an introduction and asked me to waltz with him. I refused as I never dance
round dances in public. He insisted, said I was the prettiest dancer on the floor and wouldn’t I give
him the pleasure of just one round. He was sure I knew the step.

“Yes,” I replied. “I know the step, but I don’t know you. I never dance with strangers. I never
dance with men who drink. (I smelt it on his breath.) I never dance round dances in public. I have
the pleasure of wishing you good evening.”

Without a word he walked away and left the grounds. Then I saw for the first time that Jim had
been standing close by all the time; his face was white, and his fists were clenched.

When he saw me looking at him, he laughed and said, “If that fellow hadn’t gone when he did, I
should have knocked him over, and I was glad to see you show so much firmness and principle. Any
other girl would have been flattered into yielding.” Well, it gave me a new view of him, but I am
not quite sure whether he is jealous or only sensible.

~ 121~

August 1, 1870

At Steubenville, the dear old place looks natural and the people are all so good to me. George is
as jolly as a school boy. I was amused at him the other day. John and Lizzie had their pictures
taken together. They thought it would be nice to have portraits of the whole family in groups of two
each, so their mother said George and E. must have theirs taken together. George replied, “We will
have Mame (4) in with us.” His mother said that would be nice, but she was thinking of just getting
the members of the family. “Well.” he said, “Isn’t she one of the family?” Of course, I scolded him,
but I couldn’t help laughing at his taking so much for granted.

August 10, 1870

After a pleasant visit of three weeks, I am getting ready to go home in time for school. I saw
several of my former schoolmates here unite with the church last Sunday. I wonder when I will feel
like taking that step. Seems to me if we stayed here I should have felt more like taking an interest
in such things, but I guess that gay crowd at home has spoiled me. Still I like to go to church and I
never miss S.S. I love my teacher and really enjoy the lessons. The girls of our class are all so
friendly, just like sisters, and our teacher is so faithful. Surely, we ought to be good for her sake if
for nothing more. After church Sunday night, we all took a walk and George told me he was coming
up on a visit during the Christmas holidays if nothing prevented it. I told him his sister Lizzie must
come, too. He said of course he would bring her.

December 27, 1870

What a long time it has been since I wrote any in this book, but school, music lessons, housework,
serving, and an occasional party have kept me so busy I hardly know how the time has gone. Lizzie,
John, and George all came the day before Christmas. Mary M. from Brighton, who has been
corresponding with John, was here also and we have had solid fun right along. The boys went home
yesterday, then Lizzie and I went to Brighton to stay all night with Mary. Walking across the creek
on the ice, I fell, striking the back of my head, and it has been aching ever since. Such a rushing,
roaring sound all the time, it nearly sets me crazy. Still I won’t give up. We all three went and had
our pictures taken together, and while at the gallery met a friend of Mary’s Clint T. She had been
telling him about me, and he wanted to get acquainted. He and some more young men called in the
evening and we had a gay time. Dear me, I hope he won’t want to be too friendly. I don’t need so
many big brothers. I am going home with Lizzie to stay a few weeks for I can’t go to school with this
awful headache. It affects my hearing, too, so I suppose there is no use trying to go anymore. I did
so much want to get a good education. I hate to be disappointed.

January 8, 1871

Once more at Steubenville. It is so nice here. I wonder if they are really as fond of me as they
seem to be. Emma has been converted and united with the church. Also, her friend S. I am glad
to see the change in them and hope they will be faithful, but so many go back to the world, seems
to me it is better not to make a profession than to put one’s hand to the plow and look back. We are
all attending the Week of Prayer services and they are very good. I got two letters today, one from
Jim C. and one from Clint T. George doesn’t admire either of them very much, though he and Jim
were very civil to each other while he was up there.

~ 122~

February 1, 1871

Home again but getting ready for another visit. Nannie F. and I are going to Allegheny for a few
weeks. She is such a jolly girl, we always have good times. Clint has been down several times and
one night came in a buggy with E. M. (Mary’s sister) and we all went to the country. Mama said I
could go, but I wished afterward she had forbidden it. At coming home, he grew very lover like, and
I am afraid he will presume on my kindness. Why is it if you treat men civil they want to be soft? I
don’t want to flirt or “make conquests” but wherever I go, they just hang around me and I am forced
to talk to them. Oh, well. Some are born flirts, some attain flirtiness, and some have it thrust upon
them. I suppose I belong to the latter class. They say I am very attractive, but I am sure I don’t try
to be. I know I have lots of fun in me, and have a sharp answer ready for everyone, sometimes too
sharp, but they have to take it anyway.

March 15, 1871

After three weeks in the city, we came home and found “the crowd” getting ready for a party. Of
course, we all went. I had quite a talk with David. It seems he is going to be married soon and felt
that he owed me some apology, though I don’t see why. He said he was in dead earnest when he
wrote that letter to me, but when he saw there was no hope for him, tried to make light of it. That he
began going with this girl to keep from thinking of me, soon saw that she cared for him (oh, the
conceit of the average man) was drawn on until engagement followed as a matter of course, and
now “his honor as a gentleman was at stake.” (Those were his very words, though I don’t see much
honor or gentleman either.) He hoped that I would always think kindly of him and that my life would
be happier than his. I soon gave him to understand that I wasn’t wearing the willow for him, as I
have tried to all along, and I sincerely hope he won’t pester me with his attentions any more. Several
times through the winter he renewed the attack, then when vanquished would say he didn’t mean it.
One Saturday night he called me at the door and asked for a private conversation with me. I went
out on the step, and he says, “May I have the pleasure of walking home from church with you
tomorrow night?” “What do you mean?” I said, “Don’t you know I have company that I am very well
satisfied with?” “Oh, I didn’t suppose that made any difference unless you have serious intentions
toward that party.” (Wasn’t that a nice way for him to speak about his brother?) I fired up. “I have
serious intention toward no one; you least of all, and the sooner you understand that, the better.”
Then he laughed and said, “I was just joking, I don’t expect you to be here tomorrow night.” I wonder
if there is any such thing as sincerity among men. Well, the next day after the party I thought I would
tell Jim about my experience with David and while we were talking, brother Will came to the door
with the announcement.

Here is cousin Will T. and sure enough there he was with Cousin Will J. I had been corresponding
with both of them, but they had said nothing about coming, so we were taken by surprise. I
introduced “my friend,” pretty soon Nannie came over, then in the evening the folks from Brighton
came, and we had a house full of company. Clint was here lively as ever; he doesn’t care how many
men are around, he just won’t be snubbed. One evening we went up to Brighton, and he came
home with us, attaching himself to me as usual. Pretty soon he asked if he might light a cigar. I said
not if you walk with me. He turned to Nannie and asked if she would walk with him if he smoked.
She said yes so that left cousin Will T. with me. He was very indignant and said that country Jake
(meaning Clint) shouldn’t come around anymore while he stayed. But he did. We all went to the
station with Mary when she went away. (They moved to East Liverpool.) Now the boys have gone
home again. We are getting ready to move, to a larger house in a more pleasant location.

~ 123~

June 1, 1871

After we moved I had quite a sick spell, worked too hard, I guess. We have very nice neighbors,
Mary H., the blind girl next door is lovely. She is older and smarter than I, so I am rather backward
about getting acquainted. On Decoration Day, I had been to Rochester to see a friend, and on
coming home I was surprised to find George and his friend S. here. John came with them but
stopped at Miss B’s. B. has been corresponding with Viola M. and went to see her in the evening.
When George and I were alone I asked him if he hadn’t been drinking. He said only a glass of beer.
I gave him to understand that was too much, and he was making himself very disagreeable to me. I
talked to him about that and the tobacco habit, but he wouldn’t promise to give them up. I declined
to sit up with him any longer and showed him to his room. Miss M. was here about ten o’clock looking
for Viola. It seems she and S. had gone out somewhere and failed to come back. She was very
anxious. I am afraid they are not as virtuous as they should be, though I know nothing positively.
The same evening Papa and Mama took a buggy ride in the country. Coming through the bridge
they overheard some men talking about some strange young men getting into a scrape of some kind.
I wanted G. to tell me what it was, and he wouldn’t. I treated him rather cool, and when he went
home there was nothing said about writing. I told him I was going to the country and didn’t know
how long I would stay. I was simply provoked at him to think he had no more respect for me than to
drink and give people room to talk about him while here. If he would have come alone, all would
have been well, but he hasn’t backbone enough to keep straight in a crowd. Well, it is a good thing
I found it out in time. I guess he isn’t as fond of me as he pretends to be, for he wrote a letter to
another girl and sent it to me by mistake. It was a very “soft” letter, such as he wouldn’t dare write
to me. I sent it back to him and he was much “cut-up” and made all sorts of promises, but I just
laughed and thought it was a good joke. Of course, I have other company and other correspondents,
but I try to conduct myself with propriety at all times. Jim has gone to the city to learn a trade and is
going to be a marble cutter. He writes that he is coming home this week to stay over Sunday. Papa
says he does not know how I am going to run two machines; but Nannie will be here, and he can go
home with her. I don’t know why he still comes, as I don’t give him any encouragement. Guess I
will have a plain talk with him some day. I don’t know what the neighbors think about so many young
men coming here. There is no harm done, I am sure, and yet it looks bad. For my part I wish they’d
all stay away. I like to go out with the girls and have many friends among them, but the boys seem
to think they are indispensable.

July 4, 1871

Such a busy summer, everything comes at once and if I want to go anywhere, I just have to rush
to get ready. Tomorrow Jim, Nanny, and I are gong down to East Liverpool to spend the day with
Mary M. Before I went to the country, I told Clint not to call any more. He took it very hard and
wouldn’t promise. I only stayed a week, and the very evening I came home, he called again. I saw
in a moment he had been drinking but didn’t want to lecture him until we were alone. Nannie was
here, and we started to go home with her. A storm came up, and we went into an ice cream parlor
to wait till it was over. There at one of the tables sat Jim. I didn’t know he was coming home,
suppose he just wanted to take me by surprise. He left the room first, but as we went out through
the store, there he was waiting to speak to me. I told Clint and Nannie to wait outside, as I had no
intention of letting Jim take me home. He said he had made up his mind to tell me what he knew
about Clint, and he was not fit company for me, etc. then I could do as I please, meaning, of course,
I could take my choice. I thanked him for his kindness and told him he might call the next day, that
he was entitled to some explanation, and I would be ready to make it. All the way home I lectured
Clint. At first, he denied it, but finally acknowledged that he had taken one drink. Promised he never
would do so again if I would let him go with me. But I was firm, wasn’t going to ask him in, but
another rain came on, and I had to invite him in for politeness sake. Then we had another talk, and
it was nearly morning before he left. I do wonder if he will bother me anymore. He seemed satisfied
and we parted good friends.

~ 124~

I have been analyzing my feelings a little, and I think I must care something for him or it wouldn’t
be so easy to make sacrifices for him. When I came home from the country, I wrote a short note to
George telling him of my return and that he could do as he pleased about writing. He replied short
and cool that he was willing to abide by my decision. That settled it. Though it was a little hard at
first, I soon got over it, and I think he couldn’t have cared very much for me or he wouldn’t have given
me up so easily. Oh, yes, I had another experience. A wealthy Mr. W. of Beaver asked a lady friend
to intercede for him and ask if he could go with me. Shortly afterward we met at a party. He asked
me if he could call on me the next Tuesday evening. I said I had no objections. He came, but I made
arrangements with Nannie and the dear girl helped me out. It was all right for him to spend the
evening. He is well educated and interesting, but I had no notion of sitting up with him. Well, it was
late and dark when Nannie started for home, so, of course, he had to go with her. He never came
back. I suppose beaus are like the measles and whooping cough, you have to worry through them
somehow.

August 24, 1871

Well, I have gone to my last dance and that is certain. I never was so disgusted in my life. I had
been very sick, and was not fit to be out, but insisted on going. Mama said I better stay at home, but
I had promised and thought I must go. The first time I had ever acted contrary to her wishes and my
conscience troubled me. In the middle of a set, a dizzy faintness came over me, and I thought “what
if I should die in such a place as this?” I staggered and would have fallen had not my partner caught
me and placed me in a chair. Then he brought me a glass of lemonade and soon I revived but
wouldn’t dance anymore. I stayed with Nannie all night, and when I went home in the morning, I
couldn’t bring myself to the point of telling Mama how I felt. That night, I determined to fight it out.
So, I knelt by the window and looked out at the lovely moonlight scenery all so quiet and peaceful,
and as I wondered why I was not in sympathy with it, I realized that it was because all nature obeys
the voice of God. And then I prayed “If I have never loved Thee, Lord, help me to begin today.
Wherever I have done wrong, forgive and make me all over new in Thine own glorious image.” I
don’t know how long I stayed there and there was no ecstasy of feeling, no great manifestation of
light, but a wonderful peace came to me and I was at rest. I never said anything to anyone about it.
One reason, I was afraid it was too good to last, and another was I just wanted to keep it to myself.
Perhaps it is not right, but it will be made clear. I have no desire but to do the will of God. Worldly
pleasures have no charm for me. I have received several invitations but decline them all.

December 1, 1871

How rapidly the days are passing. Another year is almost gone. My thoughts are sad and yet
sweet. If I could just go on this way and not have to make any important changes. It is so hard
always to know just what is right. All these weeks I have gone about my work in a quiet, happy way.
Jim has been home over Sunday every two or three weeks. This time he came before Thanksgiving,
went to church with me in the morning, and was here in the evening. When we were alone he said
he wanted to ask a favor of me, would I, could I love him? I said I didn’t know. I was very fond of
him. I didn’t know whether to call it love or not. “Could you love me well enough to trust your
happiness to my keeping:” “Oh, dear, why did you ask me that? I am not old enough to understand
such things. I don’t care that much for anyone and then you may change your mind.” “Never,” he
answered. “You are the only one in the world for me. I know you are young and perhaps don’t know
your own mind. You will think differently sometime, only give me a chance to hope and I will wait
any number of years.” So, I said if he was content with a promise like that “so mote it be,” but it
causes me many a serious thought, the result of which is this determination.

~ 125~

If I never feel any higher, purer love for him than I do now, I will give him my promise, for in what
little I have seen of life, I have noticed so much deception, and so many mistakes, that I will not make
a venture until I know the ground is firm.

Another thing. I cannot see why all girls should be expected to follow in the well-beaten pathway
that has been marked out by their ancestors. Why can’t they make their own tracks? I am not in
favor of leading strings at this advanced age. Is matrimony the chief end of women? Why are they
taught from the cradle to think of nothing else than how to catch a husband? I am expressing my
true opinion. I confess there are some “true marriages before heaven,” persons that seem to have
been created for each other, but still I believe that God puts some in the world to do a different work,
and at the present day, when all the means of education and fields of industry are open to both
sexes, cannot women find a higher calling than the never-ending novelty of darning socks and
washing dishes?

January 1, 1872

Another year is ushered in. With joy and gladness, I step over the threshold, for it marks my
entrance into a higher life. I told Mama and my S.S. teacher that I intended to unite with the church
next communion. They were very glad, and I think a little surprised. I was not prepared for the joy
with which Jim received the news, as he is not a Christian himself. He has no bad habits. He did
used to take a drink and smoke a cigar once in a while but has given that up now. Still there is a
real change of heart. I know he is glad that I have given up going to parties because he didn’t like
to see me dancing with other men. He never said anything about it, but I couldn’t help seeing it in
his eyes. He is very good to me and listens to everything I say, so I hope he will get the light some
day.

May 31, 1872

Another birthday. How the time does fly, and oh how many “experiences” I have had. During the
winter I attended all the church services, young people’s prayer meetings, etc. and helped with the
homework and serving. Early in the spring I had a long siege of brain fever. They all thought I was
going to die. I didn’t think much about it myself, but I was willing to go. If I had my choice I would
rather die young, but I suppose that is selfish. Jim was so good to me all the time, coming every day
and reading to me when I was able to hear it. He has gone back to his work now. I wrote him a
letter today expressing my gratitude for his kindness. I have been sewing several weeks helping a
lady get ready to go away. I hardly choose dress-making for a life work, but it is the only thing I can
do now, and I want to be a little bit independent.

September 22, 1872

Another happy summer almost gone. Church work, ledge work, and home work have filled up
the time, and a three-week’s visit from my dear cousin Lizzie T. She is so sweet, and we have
always been so congenial. When she wrote that she was coming, I made arrangements to meet her
in Steubenville where she would have to change cars. She knows the G family, having visited us
when we lived there. Then I invited Jim to come down the same day. I didn’t tell anyone my plan,
but it was thusly. I knew I must answer his question sometime. I wanted to be sure that my feelings
for George would not stand in the way. I wanted to see the two men together and “draw
comparisons.” I wanted to be sure of my own mind, if I have a mind. So, I wrote to the girls that I
was coming to meet Lizzie and went down on Saturday. They were all glad to see me but did not
seem as free as formerly. I soon found out that George is engaged to a girl in the country. We didn’t
have any personal conversations, but he wanted to be with me as much as possible.

~ 126~

I didn’t tell him I expected Jim, and he only saw him when he came home to dinner. They shook
hands very friendly, but, of course, I don’t know how they felt. Lizzie and Emma both have new
lovers since I saw them. I suppose they will all be married soon.

Well, on Tuesday morning Emma and I sent to the station to meet Jim. Then after dinner we all
went again to meet Lizzie, had a little friendly reunion and took the three o’clock train for home. Jim
went back to his work the same evening and didn’t come home again for two weeks. During that
time, I didn’t write a word to him, too much stirred up. I couldn’t help it. I am sorry for George, for I
read much in his face. He doesn’t really love the girl he is going to marry, but she is willing to take
him as he is, and he is too stubborn to try to be any better. I wrote him a letter to relieve my feelings
and then didn’t send it. I am glad I didn’t, for he wouldn’t understand. Now that I have given him up,
it seems easier to learn to care for Jim. If I marry anyone it must be a clean man. I dare not run the
risk of marrying one who drinks. This communion Sabbath and the services were very sweet and
solemn. Mr. Shields first read the 15th Chapter of John. Then took for his text the 11th verse. “These
things have I spoken unto you that my joy might remain in you and that your joy might be full.” He
spoke in glowing terms of Jesus comforting his disciples, that his joy might remain with them when
he should have ascended to the Father. That their joy might through his love be full and oh precious
thought that He addresses us though he spoke the words so long ago. He knew that we should
need those very words today, to cheer, comfort, and encourage us on our way. He knew we should
need all the sweet promises that were recorded by his disciples. My dear friends, would you feel
this joy, this heavenly assurance, this blessed peace? Would you have this love fill every member
of your being, making you an heir of the kingdom and joint heir with Christ? Would you be sure of
happiness, no matter what earthly trials you have to endure? Then come to Jesus, let him dwell in
your heart and fashion it over after his own glorious image. Come learn of him and be wise unto
salvation, then with joy unspeakable you can say, “To Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be honor and
glory, dominion and power through the love which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

September 29, 1872

Another good sermon to report, and I want to write it down before I forget. Text Isa 44:5 “And
one shall say I am the Lord’s, and another will call himself by the name of Jacob, and another shall
subscribe with his hand unto the Lord and surname himself by the name of Israel.” Mr. Shields used
such sweet, simple language to convey the ideas herein expressed, that it was very touching. It
made me think of all I ever heard about ministers preaching Christ and not themselves, for it is
evident that he labors with an eye single to the glory of God, and the inspiration he draws from the
divine word has a tendency to send the sermon home to the hearts of his hearers. He spoke of the
personality of the words, “one shall say” speaking in tender pity of those who sit under the droppings
of the sanctuary year after year and never confess that they are the Lord’s. The saddest road to hell
is that which leads under the church bell, past the pulpit and within the sound of warnings and
admonitions. Are you ashamed to own Christ as your Savior and confess him before the world? Are
you always going to be ashamed? If not, think how uncertain life is, and love him now. If so think of
these words spoken by his divine lips. “Neither will I confess him before my Father which is in
Heaven.” Ah, the solemn thought: shut out forever from the presence of him who gave his life to
save you from death and kept calling you to his arms “but ye would not.” But my dear friends,
suppose you could reach heaven without confessing Christ while here, would it not be a lasting
remorse to you to feel that you had rejected such a loving Savior? O, friends, if such could be the
case, if I could get to heaven without acknowledging Christ on earth, I think I should feel as though I
would rather be any place else than there. I should not look the Lord Jesus in the face if I was afraid
to stand up before the world and tell of his salvation and let all know that He is my Master.

~ 127~

And then in pleading accents he (Mr. Shields) requested the members of the church from the
oldest to the youngest to pray for all their friends who were out of Christ, teachers to pray for their
scholars, and all to pray for each other. I could not keep the tears back when I thought how many
there are in whose personal salvation I am greatly interested, and they still hang back. But the
comforting words of the prayer strengthened me and renewed my desire for greater faith and more
earnest prayer. The hymns were well chosen and particular favorites of mine. “O, be his service for
all my joy” and “Jesus, I my cross have taken.” I don’t understand yet what it is to bear the cross.
That is what it means to me. Seems to me it would be easier to endure persecution and opposition
or perform some great work in His name than to bear the little daily vexations we meet in every day
life. It has long been my wish that I might be chosen to do some kind of missionary work, but there
are so many rough places in my nature that need smoothing down, so many angles that need
rounding off, that I have come to the conclusion that my mission is just here at home, trying to be
faithful to my duties, bearing the cross in Christ’s own way and not dragging it along after me or
sinking beneath its weight. Physical pain is hard to bear, and I have been several times so near
death that it was a disappointment to take up the duties of life again. But though it all the Lord has
kept me, and since He has spared my life, it must be for some wise purpose. So, if he will only let
this body be a pure and holy temple for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, I shall be satisfied.

October 14, 1872

Mr. Shields called Saturday eve and in his usual blunt but pleasant way informed me that he was
“after me” to take a class in Sunday School. At first, I was overcome with astonishment. Then I
managed to tell him that I didn’t know anything about teaching. I was young and inexperienced.
Couldn’t he find someone who would know better how to manage?

He said he wished I would tell him if I knew of anyone, for his part he thought I was just the one
to fill the position. In short, he would not take no for an answer. So, I told him I would try. Yesterday
I attempted to take charge of six restless little boys between ten and twelve years of age. They are
so trying and so cute. Speaking of the efficacy of prayer, one little fellow said, “Now suposin I should
ask the Lord for a thousand dollars. Would He give it to me?” Before I could think of a reply, another
boy says, “I think that would be pretty cheeky.” “Just so,” said I and that was a better answer than I
could give. “To ask for something we don’t need and probably would not make proper use of is
cheeky to say the least.” I am afraid they will be too much for me, but I can only put forth my best
endeavors, trusting Jesus, doubting never. Jim is trying to be a Christian, says I have helped him
so much. I am glad, of course, and yet I can’t feel towards him as he wants me to. When he was at
home last month, he was very much distressed and after a long while I succeeded in getting him to
tell me what troubled him. I had not written to him in two weeks, and then only a short note which
reached him just before he came home, and which did not explain my conduct. And then when he
asked me why I didn’t write, I made no reply. He said he had worried over my silence night and day,
and didn’t know what to think, but when I had no excuse, he thought I didn’t care for him, never would
love him as he wanted me to, and it made him sad. I told him that it was no wonder, that I didn’t
want to cause him pain, but I couldn’t help it and didn’t know what to do. Then he said, “O, darling,
we could be so happy, if only you would give me the promise I have so often asked and let us enjoy
each other’s love. I could work and save, and we would get along as well as other people.” That
was a great deal for him to say, but his eloquent eyes spoke far more, and for a while I could not find
my voice. Finally, I told him that if at the end of two years we both lived, and his mind was still the
same, and I found no reason to lose faith in him, I would give him the answer he wanted. His happy
smile and fervent “God bless you” told how deeply he was moved. He clung to the straw I offered
him as though it had been a strong rope. For said he, “I can never love you less, on the contrary
every time I see you, I think more of you.” And so, I ask myself, can it be that there is such a thing
as true love and that it is for me. Must I acknowledge its power and give up just like other girls?

~ 128~

If I thought it my duty, I should be willing to try, but I think I should demand pretty strong proof. Well,
only two weeks from that night he was here again, and I spoke some thoughtless, careless words
that I did not mean and saw in a moment he was hurt, though he made no reply. I was too proud to
tell him I was not in earnest, but speaking very cool, told him to forget what I had said. Still he was
silent, opened the bible and read a while, then closed it and looked at me with his eyes full of tears.
Then I was truly sorry and begged his forgiveness. It was granted, but the sting remains, and I can’t
help thinking we must give up trying to be happy and, to use the old saying, “agree to disagree.”

November 28, 1872

Another Thanksgiving. I was to ill to go anywhere, had a sick headache all day yesterday and to
make matters worse, got a letter from Jim asking me if I could love him as I should, that I should
place perfect confidence in him and trust him as he did me. To have the subject brought up again
so soon and when I felt so weak, worried me so that I could not sleep. Why can’t he be patient as
he said he would, or why can’t I go away someplace and fight it out alone. I believe there is a great
deal in his persistence, his power to work on my feelings, and the personal magnetism of his
presence. If I could be away a while, I might forget. But I am needed at home, as Mama is not strong,
and then I don’t feel equal to taking a journey. If ever anyone prayed for light and direction, I did. I
knew I was expected to make a final decision, for he said, “If you can, in mercy, don’t keep it from
me. If you cannot, it will be your duty to tell me and mine, with the help of God, to forget we were
ever dear to each other.” The more I think of it the more positive I am that I can never consent to be
his forever. If I wanted to marry I would take him in preference to any I know, still he is not the one
I should choose. Really, I have never seen the one who came up to my standard, perhaps I never
will. All right, I don’t want to get married. We must part sometime, why not now and be done with it.
So, when he came down this morning, I told him I thought we could never be happy together and an
entire separation would be the best plan, that I had prayed earnestly on the subject and consequently
did not believe I was making a mistake. He tried to be calm. I could see the struggle, but though he
has a strong will he could not overcome his feelings. I cried in sympathy, but we could not come to
any definite conclusion. He would not take a dismissal, and I could not bid him hope. At last I told
him he might come back in the evening. Well, he came, but it was a long while before we had a
chance to talk. I had not thought over what I should say, but I prayed to be shown my duty. Then
came the thought, could it be right for me to make him go when it cost us both so much suffering?
So, when he said, “Dearest, you don’t want me to leave you, do you?” I answered, “No. I have been
thinking more deeply, and while all I said this morning was true, and I can’t help thinking we must
part some time, yet I want to ask you to have patience with me a little while longer, and then if I can’t
appreciate you, I shall cease to trouble you if it kills me.” He replied, “I will have patience with you
forever, darling, and you will change your mind when you are older.” But I cannot think I will.
Nevertheless, we shall see. So, we are happy for the time being. He has just left me, but he is not
going back to the city till Monday.

January 18, 1873

The holidays passed off pleasantly, though marked only by the annual festival of our Sunday
School which took place on Christmas evening. Though I regret that I have not better improved the
time, still I am glad that another year has gone, and I am that much nearer home. Still I may see
much sorrow and suffering before the end does come, as the future is enveloped in a thick cloud,
and I cannot tell what is in store for me, but I know that there is a Hand reaching through the cloud,
guiding my every step, and I can trust.

~ 129~

The first Sabbath of the year commenced our week of prayer, and last Sabbath was our communion
at which time I was made happy by seeing Jim unite with the church. I hadn’t urged him to do so
either, but he has been going to Sabbath school for some time now and has a faithful teacher. He
saw his duty and acted accordingly. Our meetings still continue and many more are coming into the
church. My cousin CharlieEdelblute is here on a visit, though we have corresponded for some time,
I don’t feel very well acquainted with him. He is rather unapproachable, will not go to church, and
cares for nothing but making money. The one I should like most to see is Cousin Elmer, as I can tell
by his letters that he would be friendlier and less selfish, but his home is so far away that I suppose
he will never visit us. I cannot help wondering if I shall ever see him, and if he will prove to be all
that I think he is. I showed his picture to Mary M. and told her he was a self-made man. She says,
“I wonder if he worships his maker.” I said, “I hope not.” I only used the expression in the common
acceptance of the term. I know the Lord helps people to be somebody in spite of circumstances if
they wish to try, and He deserves all the praise.

The son of my favorite auntie, he ought to be good. I think he would make a nice-looking
preacher, but looks are not everything, and I fear he has never yet experienced a change of heart.
Why is it young men hesitate to give themselves to Christ when there is so much they can do for
Him and He does so much more for them than the world does? I am so much interested in my class.
I want to be able to present Bible truths to them in such a way as to make a lasting impression for
good, and I want to have faith and patience to work diligently, for perhaps this work is given me to
train me for something greater. My one small talent lies in the direction of literature, but
circumstances prevent cultivation in that line. I cannot always collect my thoughts for ever since that
fall on the ice, my head has ached constantly, so I can only take up the work of each day, do what I
can, and leave the result with God. They are having a revival at the M.E. church. I have attended
some of the meetings and seen many friends converted. The first one, Mollie H., a former
schoolmate. She is so happy, just like the Christians you read about in the S.S. books. I wonder
why it is all are not that way. Then Jim’s sister, S.—what a severe struggle she had before the light
came. For a long time, she had not been friendly with me. I don’t know why, but thought perhaps
that was in the way, so I went to her after church and kissed her. She threw both arms around me
and said, “O, Mamie, help me to find Jesus.” I talked with her a little while, then came home to spend
all night in prayer for her that she might be abundantly blessed tonight, and just as the last hymn
was being sung, “God is love, I know, I feel,” her heart rejoiced in the light, and the peace which
passeth understanding filled her soul. I have not had a chance to talk to her yet but hope to soon. I
trust the mystery will be cleared up sometime, and we will be good friends again.

September 20, 1873

I find that I cannot make entries so often. I can do no better than take a retrospective view of
events as they pass on the panorama of time. A severe sick spell in June forced me to give up my
S.S. class, for I felt that they should have a teacher who could be depended upon. When I was able
to go again, I went in my old class and am sure it is the best place for me, as I have much to learn
before I am fit to teach others. I am sure I know about the grace of God more than I did a year ago,
still I have not made the progress in the divine life I should have made. Jim was away most of the
time during the summer, at one time for six weeks. He was very worried and discouraged, thinking
he could endure suspense better away than at home.

During this time, I saw my own heart as never before. I felt a desire for something to love and
began to see that God had given me the love of an honest heart and was now planting in mine the
answering love. It seemed at most too good to be true, and I prayed that it might never turn to
idolatry. How the change in my feelings came about I never knew. It was simply a miracle. It
reminds me of some lines written by the poet Moore, “I will, I will, the conflict’s past, and I’ll consent
to love at last.

~ 130~

Cupid has long with smiling art invited me to yield my heart, but I have thought that peace of mind
should not be for a smile resigned, and so repelled the tender here, thinking my heart would sleep
secure. But vain is every outward care. The foe’s within and triumphs there.”

When Jim came home two weeks ago, he gave me the opportunity to tell him that if I recover my
health, I will with the help of God, make him happy. I cannot linger over that scene. It is too sacred
to repeat even to myself. Now I know there is such a thing as pure, holy heaven-born love and that
it is for me undeserving though I be that my mission on earth, my high and holy work of love, is to
help another soul to walk in the paths of righteousness and establish a home for the glory of God. I
fought against it long and hard, but now that I have yielded, my duty seems clear. Jim has gone
back to the city but will soon be home to stay all winter.

April 24, 1873
Have just received word, the news that Cousin Lizzie is married. It came like a shock, and I just
cried myself sick. I knew nothing of her intentions, had no letter from her for a long time, and then
just to get the paper containing the marriage notice. It was too much. I did so want to see her again
while we could be all in all to each other. Now we never can be the same again. I know nothing
about the man. Perhaps he won’t be good to her. I have written to her brother, Will, to know all
about it. Perhaps I shall be reconciled in time. I wonder if there is anyone on earth who would feel
happy? I cannot tell. I only know I am all broken up.

December 5, 1874
Another crushing sorrow. For the first time in my life, since I was old enough to realize what it
meant, death came very close. Dear Mollie H, my sweet young friend, died after an illness of three
weeks from scarlet fever. Now I know why she was so happily converted. It was that she might be
ripe for heaven. Her last words were “Nearer My God to Thee.” They sang that hymn at her funeral,
that is, they tried to but very few could sing. The preacher said in her life she was a shining Christian,
in her death a glorified one, and at the close of the discourse he said, “Yet we die the death of the
righteous and let my last end be like hers.” May I never forget the impressions made on me by her
death. While I envied her the privilege of going home so early and escaping so many cares and
sorrows, I felt that I was not as well prepared as she was, and I resolved to live nearer to God and
work harder for Him that I might be also ready when the call should come to me. Mollie’s mother is
almost distracted. She thinks there are sorrows that heaven cannot cure.
A joy has come into my life, too. One day, Jim came with a message from S. to the effect that if
I could tolerate her, she would come down to see me. I said what can she mean. He said, “I don’t
know.” But when she came, I found out. Someone in a fit of anger at me had told her that I had said
of her, “I don’t see how you can tolerate her,” and the dear girl bore it all in silence, and it was not
until she felt she could forgive me that she would mention it. I said, “Well, now that you know I never
said it, you will find it easier to forgive me, don’t you?” So, we are very happy. She is to be married
some time next summer. I hope she will be happy, and she will if he loves her as I do. I have just
learned that lesson recently, how to truly love my girlfriends, but it is becoming easier to speak to
them on the subject of religion than it used to be.

~ 131~

December 25, 1875

Another year is swiftly drawing to a close. Another with its clouds and sunshine, smiles and tears,
joys and sorrows. What matters it all if only a year’s growth in grace is marked. Another Christmas
day, clear, bright, beautiful, fit emblem of the Sun of Righteousness whose birth we celebrate. And
as I look back on the varied experience the days have brought, it seems as though the way is going
to be brighter now. This morning there was such a beautiful sun shower and rainbow, something
unusual for this time of year, and I thought how all the colors form the light and how all kinds of
experience make up the sum total of God’s love for us. Jim returned last Monday from a long
absence, and we are very happy. I was speaking last night of the many Christmas days we had
spent together and wondering where we would be when another year should roll around. He replied,
“God knows, but we can trust him. It will be well with us wherever we are. Yes, truly we can trust
Him when He has done so much for us.”

And so, the shadows fall apart,

And so, the west winds play

And all the windows of my heart

I open to the day.

December 31, 1876

The last day of the old year and memories come crowding thick and fast, and as I view the
experience of the past twelve months, the sum of my thought’s gratitude. I have so much to be
thankful for, answered prayers, strength and courage for the work required of me, returning health,
spiritual deliverance, and deeper enjoyment in Christ. I am trying to overcome my foolish
sensitiveness and mingle more in society for the sake of the good that I can do, and I am happy to
say that the Lord has blessed my efforts for the good of others. Jim has returned again to go no
more until I go with him. As soon as I can finish my sewing, our lives will be united, and we will go
on a trip to visit friends in Steubenville and Cousin Lizzie in Newark. I cannot say that I am
excessively happy, but a sense of quiet enjoyment fills my soul, and I am truly thankful for the love
of an honest heart and that it is my mission to cheer and comfort him in all the cares of life, to be
closely identified with him till “Death do us part.”

June 21, 1877

Three months a bride. On March 21, we were married at the preacher’s, took the morning train
for Steubenville. We found that five years had wrought many changes. Though I had not heard
directly from the G. family for several years, I got news of them from a mutual friend. The young
folks are all married, and the dear mother is dead. The father lives with Emma. The rest live in
different parts of the city. John and George called in the evening but didn’t bring their wives. They
have both signed the pledge and come out in the temperance work under the preaching of Francis
Murphy. I hope they will keep it, I am sure. Still I do not regret the choice I made. “There is a destiny
that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we may.” And it seems to me I did the only thing I could
do. I had a very lovely visit with coz Lizzie. Her husband is a good provider and very kind. Still I
couldn’t help thinking that she is just the least bit afraid of him. And then he is not a Christian, though
she thought he was as he belonged to the M.E. Church. They have a sweet little girl two-years old.
They call her Bertie (Birdie?). I love her dearly as though she belonged to me. We returned home
in April. Jim has been away twice since then, has now engaged work with his cousin in Farmington,
and we are going there to board the rest of the summer. I would rather keep house, but he is not
sure of the work being steady, but it is uncertain where we will settle. There is just one cloud in the
matrimonial sky, and that is Jim is more passionate than I ever thought he could be.

~ 132~

In all the seven years of our acquaintance, he never showed it in any way, and I thought he would
be so nice to live with. Now he seems to think because we are married, he has a right to unlimited
indulgence. Of course, I knew what would be expected of me as a wife, and that sometime, I would
be expected to become a mother, but I think we ought to go to housekeeping and get something to
live on first. Then I don’t believe it is right anyway to insist on a “nightly performance with no
postponements on account of the weather.” I try to reason with him, but he puts on an air of injured
innocence and poses for a martyr. That makes me feel badly, and I am willing to make any sacrifice
for the sake of harmony. But is it right? That is the question.

September 1, 1877 (Farmington)

We have been here two months, and I never was so homesick in my life. This is the place that
was made the last thing Saturday night and never finished. It is next door to nowhere and several
miles from anywhere. No congenial society. No entertainment of any kind and nothing in particular
to do. Besides all that, Jim is not as attentive as he used to be. When he isn’t working, he is loafing
at the store, never takes me out anyplace, in fact, there is nowhere to go. If I ask him why he doesn’t
spend his evenings with me as he used to do, he says he knows he can have me with him all night
now, so he likes to be with other people part of the time. Small consolation for me, I am sure, causing
me unnecessary suffering, and then acting as though I ought to feel highly honored to be of use to
him. I never would have thought it of him. He wouldn’t give me any rest till I consented to send for
some family, and now that I am sick all the time, he won’t let me alone. I am sure it causes more
suffering, but he will not believe it. Well, we are going home soon, and I suppose will stay there for
a year or so. If I can’t go to housekeeping I want to be with Mama. Another thing, he is getting so
close with money matters. He didn’t used to be this way. He might earn more if he would, but he
just works a little while, gets what he needs for himself, puts the rest of the money in his pocket, and
keeps it there. Of course, I never tell a word of this to anyone. I want to be loyal in every way, but
there is nothing so bitter as disappointment.

May 31, 1878

I was too miserable to write down my thoughts during the months that have passed. I did write a
few items for the paper and some verses, more to keep myself from thinking than anything else. Of
course, I prayed for strength, and it came. I can truly say the Lord is my comfort and stay. Baby
Boy came to town April 15 and just as sweet as he can be, but he takes so much of my time and
strength that Jim is jealous because I can’t pet him as much as I used to, and then he is disappointed
because he didn’t get a girl and shows too plainly that he isn’t fond of his child that it makes me
unhappy. When I cry about it, he says I am foolish to take it to heart, that he does like the baby, but
it isn’t his nature to make a fuss over children. But I notice he makes a fuss over other people’s
children. His sister has a lovely blue-eyed girl nearly a year old. He got a buggy and took me up
there the other day, and he petted Birdie all the time we were there. I believe he would trade babies
if he could.

Another birthday. I feel so old. The cares of life are heavy. Yet I am not sad. I am cheerful,
happy, and hopeful most of the time. Once in a while I get the blues.

~ 133~

April 15, 1879

Baby boy (Raymond Robert) is a year old and so smart. He is learning to talk, cannot walk yet,
but will soon learn, I think. The other day he saw his two grandpas together for the first time. He
looked from one to the other and pointed first at one and then at the other. He said, “There a baw-
baw and there a baw-baw.” It was so cute. When I say, “Let’s go and see Papa,” he says, “Where
is Papa?” Surely, we ought to be happy now, but just a short time ago there was trouble over the
old vexed question of rights. I didn’t want to run the risk of getting another baby till this one is a little
older. He said if he couldn’t have “his rights” he would go away and stay away. I said if that was
all he married me for I didn’t care how soon he went nor how long he stayed. Why can’t men be
decent? Why can’t they have some mercy on a woman? Weak, nervous, racked with pain, and
over-burdened with cares, they seem to begrudge us a good night’s rest. Another thing I found out
that he attends every circus that comes along. I tried to reason with him kindly on the folly and
extravagance of it, when he couldn’t spare me money for a new hat, and I had to press and trim an
old one over, costing me a whole day’s work. But it was no use. He won’t go to church and he will
go to shows. He is working in Parker now, and I suppose I will go and do housekeeping there. Then
perhaps I can have more influence over him. He has been away from home so much that I have
rather “lost my grip.”

October 15, 1879

Well, we are housekeeping at last and such a time as we are having. Before I got things
straightened up, Jim hurt his hand. It got sore and had to be lanced three times. I had to dress it
every two hours, night and day, wash him, feed him, wait on him every way. Haven’t been undressed
nor had a night’s rest for a week. I am more than half sick and baby is sick, too. Yet I must keep
him from crying or it will annoy his papa. I must do the housework, run the errands, and always be
ready to come when he wants me. I don’t know what I should do without her, yet the responsibility
is great. And now the loss of time with the doctor’s bill will cripple us all winter financially. I didn’t
want to come but hadn’t the courage to oppose his wishes. If he would consult me about his business
and listen to reason, I know it would save a great deal of trouble, but he thinks he knows it all. I don’t
want to complain, but I am working so hard and economizing so closely, that it does seem as though
I might be appreciated a little more.

February 20, 1880

I have just been to church for the first time since we came to this place. I had no clothes fit to
wear. At last I managed to get a hat and a pair of shoes, made over an old dress and wrap, and
though I don’t look stylish by any means, yet I will pass. It is so nice to have church privileges once
more. We have a good preacher, and the people are very kind. Part of the time this winter we have
not had enough to eat. We get groceries at a little place where they don’t keep much, go in debt for
everything, and he doesn’t want to run a big bill. Sometimes we have no butter, scarcely ever any
fresh meat, and no milk for coffee. He doesn’t seem to mind it; but I never was used to living this
way, and I get real sick. Of course, I will live through it, but it isn’t very pleasant. I wouldn’t have the
folks at home know it for anything. Though I did have to send for a dollar to get baby a pair of shoes,
but I told as little as I could.

~ 134~

September 1, 1880

Dear Papa has come to visit us. Such a glad surprise. In his letters, several times he spoke of
coming, and I didn’t encourage him because I was so proud. I didn’t want him to know our
circumstances. But Mama urged him. She felt as though I was keeping back something. A short
time ago he sent me two dollars. I got a dress which was very much needed. Now he is going to
give me money to go home, as Mama is not very well and wants to see me. He and Jim will follow
in a few weeks. They have taken the contract of putting blackboards in some country schoolhouses
and will keep house for themselves. Another reason I want to go now is Jim’s sister S. has a little
boy just 3 months old. He is very delicate and may not live long. She has written to me to come if
possible.

September 20, 1880

I did not get home in time to see the baby after all, as he died on Friday and I couldn’t come till
Monday. The first thing S said to me was, “Oh, Mamie, you have your boy, but mine is gone.” I
know it was very sad for her; but the dear child is safe forever, and it won’t be long before she will
follow him. From what she has told me and what I can see, I know that her husband is like other
men, believes in having his rights. She is not strong, didn’t have proper care in her first confinement
and now consumption is slowly, but surely, sapping her life. Only one among the many tragedies
that are being enacted around us every day and still the cry goes up, “How long, Oh Lord? How
long?” Jim has been sick a great deal during the past year. Cramps at the stomach brought on by
our style of living and by inhaling the marble dust. I get up in the night and make warm applications,
do everything in my power to make him comfortable, yet he is often unkind to me and seems to think
I never get tired. Then he says he is sorry, says it is because he suffers so he can’t be patient. So,
I forgive him and still drag around, but no matter how much I suffer, I must be patient. There is one
consolation, however; when he is sick so much, he leaves me alone. My weakness is so bad, and I
am on my feet so much, seems as though I couldn’t endure any more suffering. I suppose we will
stay at home all winter with his folks. His mother is feeble and needs help with the work. Dear little
baby Raymond is so glad to be at home again. He felt the separation as keenly as I did. I wish I
could take time to write down all the cute things he says. Once last winter when it was snowing,
there was a cow standing out in the alley. Soon the wet clinging snow had covered its back, and he
exclaimed, “Oh, Mama, look! There is a cow with a shirt on.” The first time I took him to church, I
told him he mustn’t talk; but we were early, and he got tired keeping still, so he made some original
remarks about the windows and the lights. I tired to hush him up. He was quiet then until the organ
began to play. Then he asked, “Is that a pig singing?” I was so mortified, I wanted to sink through
the floor; but he did pretty well after that, and now I never have any trouble with him. I hope he will
always like to go to church as well as he does now.

May 1, 1881

We think of going back to Parker soon to stay another year. I suppose if Jim can stand the work.
He is better for the winter’s rest, and his mother thinks she can manage the work now. Some time
ago his partner sent him ten dollars that was coming to him. I thought for sure he would give me a
little as I needed clothes so badly. But he didn’t, so I asked him. He said he had to save that to take
him back to his work, that he never saw anyone make such a fuss about money as I did. I retorted,
“And I never saw anyone as contemptibly mean and stingy as you are.’ It isn’t often that I say
anything, but sometimes I can’t help it.

~ 135~

Well, he didn’t give me any, and so I did little jobs of sewing and fancy work. Then Mama gave
me what she could, so I am able to go to church. Perhaps when he gets to work again, he will be
kinder. Seems to me if a man really loves his wife and child, he will show them every attention and
do all in his power to make them happy and comfortable; but he seems to care for us just so far as
we minister to his comfort and do not expect any sacrifices from him. I have so many kind friends
here. I can’t help feeling sad at the thought of parting from them; but, of course, it is my duty to go.
“As thy day, thy strength shall be.” If it were not that the Lord sustains me, I should get discouraged.
I know I do not depend on Him enough. Perhaps these very trials are to tech me my own weakness
and bring me into closer communion with the Father of Light. But I cannot feel right when I don’t yet
go to church.

January 3, 1882 (Parker)

How time flies when we are busy. How I have worked and suffered. My teeth are getting so bad
that I have neuralgia all the time, and I can’t get the money to get them filled. Nor have I been to
church since leaving home. I took in sewing till I had paid for the weaving of twenty-four yards of
rag carpet and saved ten dollars beside. Now I thought I will get some clothes for myself and Ray.
Just then Jim got sick, needed medicine and things to eat that we couldn’t get at the grocery. So in
a short time, my money was gone. Just like a woman, of course. Well, I want to show a true Christian
spirit, and I believe the Lord accepted the sacrifice, whether I get any credit for it in this life or not. I
have scarcely known a moment’s freedom from pain, yet I have done all my own housework and
over twenty dollars worth of sewing since last spring. Now I am making a dress that is to be paid for
in knitting, and we will thus be supplied with warm stockings. A dispatch came from home stating
that dear S is not expected to live, and Jim has gone to be with her at last. I suppose I shall not get
to see her again as I couldn’t get ready to go on short notice, and then there was not enough money
for car fare for all. It is hard to stay here alone, but grace will come even for that and I have so many
harder things to endure that I don’t dread anything anymore. So often harsh things were said that
hurt my feelings, being weak and nervous that it seems almost a relief to be alone. So this is love,
is it? Well, facts are stubborn things. Romance vs. Reality.

His “guardian angel” he called me once.

I’m only a faded woman now.

I’ve yielded up my youth for him,

And the lines of care are on my brow.

I’ve suffered as only a woman can.

I’ve loved as only a woman knows how.

There is more of it, but I cannot put it all down now. It is too tragic. I wrote it one day when the
iron of bitterness had entered my soul, and I thought I would lose my reason. If it were not for my
child and my dear ones at home, I should be tempted to end my life. This phantom of self-destruction
has always haunted me. I take trouble to heart so strongly, and when I give way to the abandonment
of grief, am not responsible for my actions. It is my constant fear that I may get up in my sleep and
do something awful.

July 20, 1882 (at home)

So many changes have come to pass in the last few months. I wonder if I can remember all.
After Jim had been home three weeks and more money came in, they sent for me and we were all
with S when she died. She passed away very peacefully, but there was no manifestation of joy as
she expected. She rather dreaded death.

~ 136~

I told her that was because she was so weakened by suffering that the Lord was with her and would
take her safely through. Then I read to her from the Psalms and soon a happy smile came over her
face. Just then some friends came in and shortly afterward Mama went and spoke to her. She
replied, “I can’t hear you” …missing line…Her heart became short and quick. She called, “Jim.” He
came and lifted her up against her shoulder while her mother wiped the cold sweat from her face. In
a few moments, she was at rest. I was so glad for her sake that I could not grieve. It is the first time
I saw anyone die. There is nothing dreadful about it when we belong to the Lord. After she was
laid away, Jim’s father asked if he wouldn’t break up housekeeping and come home. He would feel
better satisfied while away at his work if we were there, knowing if Grandma (Louanna Ecoff
Edelblute) got sick she would have good care. So, we went back to Parker, packed the household
goods, settled up business affairs, and came home to stay. Jim is not able to do any hard work but
has gone with a friend who owns a photograph car on a trip through the country. I suppose they will
not do much more than just pay expenses. I am taking in sewing and am gradually getting what I
need most. I do all the heavy housework. Grandma is able to cook, wash dishes, etc., so we get
along very well. Brother Will was married in May. I have not seen his wife yet. They are coming
down sometime next month.

A letter from dear coz Lizzie informs me that the stork brought her a sweet girl baby on the first
of June. She has a boy about Ray’s age. How I should love to see her here with her three little
ones, and how earnestly I pray that they may all grow up to be as good as she is. I can’t express
how dear she is to me. Jim is more kind and pleasant since we came home, and his health is better.
He says he couldn’t feel right while he was sick all the time and worried over money matters. The
business was not prospering, and his partner managed to get the largest share of the profits. He
didn’t want to make a fuss and so endured it all in silence. Still there was no reason why he should
be cross and selfish with me. However, I am always willing to give him the benefit of a doubt and
hope we shall not have any more trouble. He is more thoughtful for my comfort, more moderate in
his desires, and kinder to Raymond than formerly. He even went so far once as to kiss him. The
child will never forget that. But he is so careless in regard to religious duties, seems to think he has
no responsibilities in that line at all. I can’t understand it. Was his profession all a sham, or has he
simply grown careless? I know I do not walk in the light as I should like to. I am care full and troubled
about many things. But I always like to read the Bible, go to church and Sabbath School, and when
we are keeping house by ourselves, I conducted family worship, but they don’t seem to care for such
things here.

August 24, 1887

Five years, busy, happy years, so much to do I could not write, except letters to absent friends.
That is such a means of education to me, most of my correspondents are very interesting. I have
heard from Cousin Elmer again after losing sight of him so many years. His mother (Lydia Emma
Edelblute Converse) is here on a visit and gave me his address. He is a doctor now and the father
of five boys (Ray, George, Ralph, William and Lawrence). Aunt Emma is so proud of him. His letters
are interesting, but not so lengthy as of old. I suppose business and family cares account for that.
The first night Aunt Emma was here she dreamed that I had sent for a baby and said the first dream
in a strange house must come true. I laughed and told her she should dream something a little more
probable, as I considered that out of the question after all these years, but shortly afterwards I
discovered it to be the case, incredible as it seems. I had been taking medicine from a specialist in
the city and insisted on getting proper rest for some time. I think that accounts for it. I am very glad
and hope I shall get safely through, but I cannot get proper care here, so we will have to move in
with Mama, and Grandma (Louanna Ecoff Kahler) will have to get a girl to do the work. I hate to tell
them, for I know they will not like it. But I am thankful for the chance to get away, though we have
never had any trouble yet, I have to take a great deal, and now that I am suffering all the time, I don’t
want to endure any more.

~ 137~

Raymond will be so glad, dear child. When he was about six years old, he came downstairs one
morning almost crying. I asked if he was sick, he said, “No. But last night I prayed for a baby sister
and expected to find it in the bed this morning, and I took all the covers off and it wasn’t there. Oh,
don’t you think it will come soon? I can’t wait more than a week.” Well, I was thunderstruck. I didn’t
want to discourage him, but I could not bid him hope so I said we would talk about it after a while.
But he couldn’t give it up. “If I’d pray for a hundred nights would it come, or if I’d stay awake and
pray a hundred times in one night would that do?” When I got a chance to talk to him, I did so very
seriously after asking the help of the Lord. I told him God had sent babies in answer to prayer, but
He moved in a mysterious way His wonders to perform. Then in well chosen words, I told him the
truth and that he must always come to me for information and not talk to others abut such things.
And he always has. I have his complete confidence and he knows he can always trust me to tell him
the truth. Aunt Emma and I have such nice times together. I do her sewing and read to her. She
tells me interesting items concerning life in the west. We went to a picnic at Rock Point, attended
the W.C.T. U. (Women’s Christian Temperance Union) Convention at Rochester (Beaver County,
PA) together. Am not taking in any sewing this summer as Jim is working and gives me money semi-
occasionally. He has built up quite a business repairing clocks and watches besides helping Papa
with painting and paper hanging. I wish we could keep house ourselves, but it seems impossible to
get a house within our means, and then it is hard to get suitable help. We have had company from
the city. Jim’s niece Maud P. and her two children, but she is good to help with the work so it didn’t
come so hard on me. I think she is in the same condition I am, but we did not exchange confidences.

December 10, 1887

Oh, the weariness, the aches and pains. Surely it is not natural to suffer so. There must be
something wrong with my make up. Mama has been away a great deal, and I have all the work to
do. I didn’t want to be selfish, so I told her I thought I could get along. Aunt Emma went home in
September. We (Ray and I) went to Pittsburgh for a week’s visit at brother Will’s, their sweet baby
Edna was just two months old then, such a dear little thing. I hope mine will be as pretty. They have
lost two babies and are so anxious to keep this one that they are too careful of it, keep the house too
warm, that makes it take cold easily. I called on Maud, found I was right concerning her, but didn’t
tell her anything about myself, and she never suspected it. Neither did I mention it at Will’s. I want
to give them a surprise.

May 31, 1888

How shall I write it? What can I say that will convey any idea of my heart’s agony when I struggled
back from the jaws of death with empty arms and aching heart: Will the pain ever be gone? Why is
it thus? Did I build too strongly on earthly hopes? Is it really a visitation of God or is there some
physical reason I could have controlled had I known it in time? I believe it will be made clear to me
sometime, and that the Lord will work out the experience for my good, but all I can think of now is
“my baby is gone.” Such a beautiful little girl, perfect in form and feature. I can’t understand it. It
was the eleventh of March she came and was taken. The next morning, we got a dispatch that Edna
was dead. Papa went at once and stayed till after the funeral. I am so sorry for them.

I know now what it is to be able to sympathize with others in bereavement. I haven’t been out any
where yet. I don’t want to meet people. I do not gain strength, neither have any ambition for anything.
Jim and Ray are so disappointed. They cannot get over it. They are not as much reconciled as I
am. Mama says, “Sometime, you will thank the Lord for taking that child, for now you know she will
never do anything to shut her out of Heaven.”

~ 138~

Many dear friends call and say comforting things, others write kind, sympathizing letters, but still
I need something more. I don’t get comfort from religion that I expected to. Can it be that my hope
is in vain? Surely there is something in all this for me to learn. The Lord knows I do not want to be
rebellious. Whatever is His will for me, I want to know and live accordingly.

Wednesday, February 15, 1882, 4:30 PM
As the sun was slowly setting
At the close of winter’s day
An angel bright, from the land of light
Wafted her soul away.
My little boy has gone to Heaven
To that home of joy and rest
Left my arms for those of Jesus
There to slumber on his breast
On the breast of his redeemer
Free from suffering and from pain
Listening for that low sweet whisper
Mother, here’s your boy again.

(Note in Tiny’s handwriting that this could have been written for Jim’s sister’s child.)

October 19, 1889
So much experience. I hardly know how to tell it. I think I begin to understand the why of it all.
Our new minister, Mr. McC., called on me before I was able to go to church and I soon found he was
above the average in Christian experience. He is something like Moody and believes in
sanctification, baptism of the spirit, higher Christian life, etc. I went to church when I could and began
to take more interest in the meetings. One Sabbath eve I had to go alone and started early thinking
I would take in the young people’s prayer meeting. All at once I thought, suppose they call on me to
pray. For many years I had not lifted my voice in public prayer. What should I do? I turned around
and started back. Then with a “help me, Dear Lord” went on to church. One of my girl friends was
the leader and she called on me first one. Just as we were kneeling, these words came to me, and
I used them in my prayer. “Most gladly will I glory in tribulation, knowing that tribulation worketh
patience, and patience experience hope.” Then for the first time, I really praised the Lord for my
sorrow and was willing for His perfect work to be done in me. In that prayer I gave myself up and
resolved not to rest until I had the fullness of the blessing. All the preaching was very good, but
nothing helped me like reading the Bible and communing with the Spirit. I tried to talk to Jim about
it, but he couldn’t understand, said he had no objection to my being as good as I wanted to be. He
was very well satisfied. I wanted to have family worship and a blessing at the table. He didn’t care,
but wouldn’t lead, so I did. As time passed on I was more than ever convinced that if I took the step,
I must go alone. From being simply indifferent, he began to say sneering things about church people,
refuse to attend to meetings, and when I had to go without him on communion Sabbath, I thought
my heart would break.

~ 139~

I felt as though he were dead, and I was weeping over his grave. One night I dreamed he did die
and I suppose, of course he went to Heaven. After a while I died and when I asked for him, they told
me he wasn’t there. I began to say, “If grief in Heaven could find a place,” and woke up sobbing. I
told him the dream, and he said, “You mustn’t worry about me. I will come out all right.” I saw it
would mean an estrangement between us but could not hold back. If he turns against me because
I want to know the Lord better, I cannot help it. He is still bitter because the baby was taken and
refuses to put himself under good influence.

There is an indefinable something in his manner that I cannot understand. I do not feel free to
talk to him like I used to. So, I turned to the Lord for comfort, and He has wonderfully blessed me.
This evening there was a little informal meeting at the church to talk about organizing a circle of the
King’s Daughters and learning more of the way of Righteousness. Anyone could recite a verse or
select a hymn or offer prayer. Well, I was just drawn out on the ocean of God’s love, and I didn’t
care if the whole world was against me. It is all settled now come what may, persecution or peril or
famine. I am the Lord’s and He is mine. I was a Christian before, but an up and down one. Now it
is all “up.” I read my Bible differently and have more charity for mankind.

October 19, 1890

One year of walking with the Lord, an oh if I hadn’t this wonderful blessing, how could I survive
the trials that have come to me? On the 19th of March, Jim’s father died suddenly at his boarding
house in the city. The next week Jim was taken ill with neuralgia of the heart and was very near
death. He seemed much softened, and when he was able, went to church. But all summer there
has been some evil influence at work with him, and he doesn’t seem like himself. In June Mama got
a letter from Papa (he had been away nearly two years, trying to find work that he could earn a living
at without climbing around so much, had gotten a position in a bookcase factory where he was doing
nicely and was going to send for Mama to move there, when he was taken ill with inflammatory
rheumatism.) He wanted her to come to him as he wasn’t receiving proper care. She went, brought
him home, and we did all we could for him; but his time had come and on July 17, he went home ,
leaving us with the assurance that he was saved. Dear Mama has born up bravely, but she is very
lonely. She lives by herself now and goes out nursing when she feels like it, for we have moved
back on the hill. Grandma was sick, and I saw it was my duty to come and take care of her. She is
better already, but still quite a charge. I fear I was not as patient as I should have been when we
were here before, now I am glad of the chance to show what the Lord can do for those who trust Him
fully. Certainly, He is fitting me for some important work. The discipline has been so severe.

May 31, 1891

Growing older every year and yet I believe that those who have perfect peace in Christ and don’t
worry about anything, have the secret of perpetual youth. I was in Pittsburgh a few days attending
Bible readings at Bethany Home and trying to learn more of the way of holiness. Am glad I went,
still I didn’t get the help I expected. I am afraid I depend too much on human help. I know I often go
to church when I know I am not able to and ought to stay home and rest, but I think of the help I get
from the services and go when I know it increases my suffering. I got home in time to attend a
wedding. Alice H. (Harn) a girl who lives next door. I have known her all her life, and our families
are all good friends. It would be sad, indeed, to have any unpleasant feelings, but I can’t help thinking
that her younger sister, Lu (Lulu Harn) is trying to lead Jim astray. All last summer I knew he met
her often at the ice cream parlor, and Charlie (her lover) was jealous. Since we moved up here, he
has spent all his spare time with her, and she is over here every day, always has some excuse for
coming and then stays and talks with him. Her mother has talked to her and I have talked to him;
but they both say they mean no harm, and still the friendship goes on. Where will it end?

~ 140~

I will not let them know how I feel about it but will pray for her and try to get her interested in
religion. If she only comes out into the light, she will see the sinfulness of such actions. There is
such a change in his manner towards me. He criticizes and finds fault with everything I do. Objects
to my going to church and will not go himself. Says cruel things about the preacher and believes all
the falsehoods that worldly people make up about him. He won’t tell me where he gets his
information, or I could convince him of his mistake, for I believe the preacher to be a pure, honest
man and I know who his enemies are.

December 25, 1891

Once more the death angel has visited our home, and Grandma is at rest. She had several sick
spells during the summer and fall but was able to go on from one room to another until the week
after Thanksgiving when the trouble took the form of brain fever. She was unconscious most of the
time for three days, then death came to her relief. I worked so hard and suffered so intensely all the
time that it is necessary to take treatment. We must have a girl to do the work, but they are so hard
to get. So, Lu offered to come. I thought she was in fun and just laughed, for she is a dressmaker
and can earn more at that, but she has had some trouble with her father and doesn’t want to stay at
home, and when I talked to Jim about it, he said to ask her to come here for while. So, I did, and
she came Saturday. I don’t know how it will work. I wouldn’t for a moment entertain an unjust
suspicion, but if there is any cause, I may as well have her where I can watch her and if “preaching”
will do any good, I can take advantage of the opportunity. Charlie comes here to see her and as yet
shows no sign of giving her up. They all went to the M.E. church entertainment last night, and I
stayed home. Tonight, it was the “treat” at our church, and I thought Jim was going with me. Lu had
to go to lodge, being an officer—but he said it wasn’t safe to leave the house alone, someone
mightbreak in so he would stay at home. So, Lu got someone to take her place at intermission,
came home alone, and when Ray and I got home from church, here they were, having a sociable
time. I suppose no harm was done, but it looks bad. I have some sewing to do before I am ready
to take the treatment, but I can’t get at it, as I have the housework to see to while she talks to Jim. I
think surely, they are both old enough to behave themselves.

January 28, 1892

Still I am trying to go about the work, suffering all the time. Raymond had a siege of inflammatory
rheumatism, was so sick that it took us all to wait on him. Is better now, and I expect to begin
treatment in a few days.

Being hindered so often makes me think I should not submit to it, but it is too late now. I feel
some force impelling me on, even though no good may come of it. As for my suspicions, if I mention
them they will say that I am lacking in Christian charity, and my religion is all a mockery. If he treated
me all right, I wouldn’t think so much about it, but he is bringing false accusations against me all the
time, causing me hours of weeping. I try my best to please him, be as kind to her as I can be, and
yet they both take offense where none is intended and do their utmost to make me unhappy. They
sit up at night and talk after the rest retire, then I can’t get them up to breakfast in the morning. If I
say anything about it, she will put on an air of injured innocence and pose for a martyr. Then she
will go to him, fix the matter up to suit herself, and he scolds me for it, so I am resolved to keep still
and if they must walk into hell with their eyes open, they can.

~ 141~

One night I had gone upstairs to bed, had been asleep, and upon waking, was cold. I got up,
went part way downstairs to see if the hall window was open. I was in plain view of the sitting room
and the lamp on the table gave plenty of light. The lounge was drawn up to the fire. She was lying
on it, full length, and he was sitting on it sideways, her head rested on his knee, and she was talking
away for dear life. I should have gone down, taken her by the back of the neck and seat of the pants
and landed her out in the snow, but I didn’t. I just went back to bed and never said a word. It was
after twelve o’clock when he came upstairs. I asked him if he was sick. He said, “No.” Now if I take
treatment, I must occupy the bedroom downstairs. Raymond sleeps on the sitting room lounge to
be near the fire, on account of his rheumatism, or will when I take the bedroom—that leaves Jim in
one room upstairs and Lu in the other. Neither of them will share my room because that is where
Grandma died. Now what can I do: absolutely nothing. No matter what I might say, they would
declare their innocence and try to throw the blame on me. I am afraid to bring on any excitement,
for I suffer so much with pain about the heart. Though I am often tempted to give up the struggle,
yet I feel as though I must live as long as possible, for Mama’s sake. She depends on me so much.
She could come and stay with me, but Jim doesn’t want her. He is afraid she will get sick here and
put him to some expense. He says very unkind things about her. He told lies on Papa too, having
no foundation whatever, but his evil imagination—said that Papa was spending his money on fast
horses, leaving the burden of Mama’s support on him, when she was working for us and saving him
the expense of hiring a girl. When I got able to do the work, she went out nursing. Someone wrote
and told Papa about it, and that is the reason he stayed away so long. He felt that he couldn’t come
home and see Jim without saying something about it, yet he didn’t want to make any trouble for fear
of making me feel bad. But when he received a change of heart, he felt he could forgive and forget,
say nothing about it, and all would be well. I shouldn’t have known anything about it, but I found the
letters among his papers after he died. He was too sick to remember that he hadn’t destroyed them,
for I know he intended to. Another thing, Jim succeeded in turning his former friends against him so
that when he came home to die, the men who had belonged to the same lodge with him for years
never came to see him. He felt it deeply, but never uttered a word of complaint.

April 26, 1892

I began taking treatment February 1, soon found that my condition was more serious than I had
supposed. Laceration and retroflexion besides the inflammation and prolapsus makes a long,
tedious treatment necessary, and as Jim says he can’t stand the expenses, I suppose I shall have
to get up and go to work again with no prospect of being cured. Scarcely a day passed without
something to worry me. I was neglected, starved, and tormented. The household expenses were
run up to a ruinous rate, and I was blamed for that. Finally, about three weeks ago Lu was taken
suddenly ill and the doctor sent for. He said she must be kept quiet a few days, so her sister came
over and did the work. I was not able to go upstairs to see her but could hear her groans and noticed
the doctor and Jim were very anxious. She stayed in bed two weeks, and when she came down,
one look at her face told me the nature of her illness. Jim helped her over home very tenderly and
now goes over several times a day to see her. O course, I don’t say anything.

December 20, 1892

Surely there is more than one kind of fiery furnace. I can truly say that the Lord is with me, and
I know he will send nothing more than He gives grace to endure. I was just able to drag about the
work all summer. I couldn’t do any washing or baking. Couldn’t run the sewing machine, was too
nervous to read, and so passed many a lonely hour. I would lie awake at night thinking of my trouble
until it seemed I must lose my reason. How fond of me he used to be. How earnestly I tried to do
my duty. What does he see in her? She is not attractive by any means. Why couldn’t she be satisfied
with Charlie? What satisfaction is there in flirting with a married man?

~ 142~

How much confidence I had in him. I have said I would as soon think of an angel coming down
from Heaven and breaking the Seventh Commandment as of his doing so. To the true Christian
there are no second causes. I must believe this is all ordered for a wise purpose and take it as His
discipline or I shall go crazy. She left hanging around here as usual until August when she went to
live with Alice. After that he was down there every day, very often neglecting his work. In November
Mama was taken ill with La Grippe and was sick at her home a week before I knew it. Jim knew it,
but never told me or went to see how she was. She got a little better, came up her, grew worse, and
we all thought she would die. We sent for Will. He called another doctor and now she is recovering
slowly. Jim treats her with respect outwardly, but I can see that he does not want her here and am
constantly afraid he will break out in some way. It is taxing me beyond my strength every day to take
care of her and keep the household machinery in proper order. Still I believe it is easier to bear two
troubles than one on the same principle that it is easier to carry two buckets of water than one. And
I don’t have any time for self pity. I work so hard all day that I sleep from sheer exhaustion. Lu still
comes in once in a while, but is not as friendly with me as formerly, makes no pretense of coming to
see anyone but Jim, walks right over to the desk where he works, sits down and talks to him as
though she owns him. I listen to the light, frivolous conversation and think, if he really enjoys the
society of such a shallow-pated numbskull, he is no companion for me. “Am I mad that I should
cherish that which bears such bitter fruit? I will pluck it from my bosom, though my heart be at the
root.” And yet, I had so set my heart on seeing them both become true Christians—for I know now
that they were never converted, though they thought they were—that it is hard humanly speaking, to
give up; but there is such a thing as casting pearls before swine. I have said that if ever any woman
came between me and the man I loved, I should shoot her as I would a dog and beg the dog’s pardon
for the comparison. Now I think, “Vengeance is mine,” saith the Lord.

May 31, 1893

For more than a year Jim has been very unkind to Raymond, refusing him clothes, bringing false
accusations against him, and doing all in his power to make the child uncomfortable. Finally, he
went so far as to order him to leave home, all because someone accused him of breaking a window
when he was not near the place at the time. I wrote to a friend in the city to help get him work, so
he went, stayed a few weeks, and got sick. Money all gone, he became desperate, asked an
engineer on a freight if he would take him to Chicago. He said yes, but he was only going as far as
Rochester that day, he could go that far, then come around the next morning. Then he got “homesick
to see Mama,” thought he would come over and watch a chance to see me alone and go away.

I just happened to look out as he was going down the hill and called him. He came over, kissed
me and said, “Where’s Papa?” I told him upstairs and wanted to get him some supper. He said,
“No. I won’t eat a bite or stay an hour unless he says so.” I went up and asked him, and he said, “I
don’t care;” so I went down, got the child something to eat, and he was so hungry, it made me cry to
watch him. Jim came through the kitchen, spoke pleasantly, and went out. I think he is ashamed of
himself and is really glad to have Raymond back. Still he won’t do his duty by him, won’t send him
to college, or get him a place to learn a trade, and thinks he ought to pay his board at home. Times
are so hard that men with good trades are begging for employment, what chance is there for a boy
of fifteen without any influential friends? How do I know if the baby had lived he would have treated
her any better? Yes, I do thank the Lord for taking her. Mama got well enough to go up to Will’s for
a while, but his wife makes it so unpleasant, I suppose she will not stay long. If I was only strong
enough to work, I could make a home for her; but here I am tied down, simply able to cook and wash
dishes for the man who has broken my heart.

~ 143~

He is a little bit kinder now though, says I may take the treatment again and the doctor is coming
tomorrow. I don’t know how I will stand it and do the housework, but something must be done. The
doctor says that if I can have the laceration stitched up, I will get well; but the inflammation must be
cured first.

November 28, 1893

Still working and still suffering. The doctor came just ten times, sent a bill of thirty-five dollars,
and Jim told him not to come anymore. Now he has moved away. I think he was afraid of some
investigation concerning Lu’s sickness here, for Charlie heard some things and resolved to
investigate, so the doctor thought discretion the better part of valor and vamoosed. I think Charlie
has seen enough to open his eyes anyway, and she will find that all men are not fools. She has
gone to Bellevue, opened a dressmaking shop, and he gets letters from her. In the spring, he started
a store in Beaver and told Raymond if he would help him he would get from him all he needed. He
did so for several weeks and he never bought him a stitch of clothing or gave him a dollar. Then the
boy got desperate and helped himself to some money that was lying loose in a drawer. I don’t excuse
him. I would starve to death before I’d touch a penny of his money. But he needn’t have been so
hard on the child when his own treatment had driven him to it. But such a storm and such vile,
profane language! It was so much like “Satan rebuking sin” that I smiled. He turned on me in a fury.
“Don’t you laugh, or I’ll fire you out.” Well, Raymond got work at the dam, walking five miles night
and morning, paying for his own lunch, and earning enough to get what clothes he needed. Then
he got a chance to learn engineering at the Western University in Allegheny, went up there, worked
for a month and came home sick. Now he needs an overcoat, and the only way to get it is for me to
make it out of an old one of Papa’s, and I am nearly sick, think I am taking the grip (La Grippe). In
the meantime, Jim went to the World’s Fair. He must have a good time at any cost.

April 15, 1894

My boy is sixteen today, fast approaching manhood, and what chance has he of becoming the
grand, noble, intelligent, Christian man I always hoped he would be? I remember I used to tell him
if he only grew up to be as good as his Papa I should be satisfied with him. Now he says, “I am as
good as he is, what are you talking about?” he is so impatient of reproof, no matter what he does, I
mustn’t say a word. And yet I have the faith to believe that he will come out all right. I had a very
severe attack of the grip, kept up for ten days, and then Jim opened his heart enough to call a doctor
and get a girl to do the work, but wouldn’t get me anything fit to eat, has been economizing along
that line for some time. There hadn’t been any fresh meat in the house for three months, and when
I said I must have some, he told me to get if of the butcher, and he would pay for it. He didn’t though
and after it had run for several months, the bill was sent in. Then I got a racket for getting so much.
(The average was about one dollar per week.) He hasn’t given me a cent of money for two years.
Mama gives me enough for medicine and postage stamps. Will sends me a dress every Christmas.
My shoes are composed principally of fresh air, and my clothing has been mended and made over
until there is nothing but a few holes with strings tied around them. If I order groceries, he tells me
not to send them, just gets what he thinks he can pay for, and it amounts to about what it would cost
him to live on if he was alone. But on Easter Sunday he capped the climax. I was upstairs making
the beds. He came to the door, handed me a note, and walked out. I copy it entire, for I don’t want
to forget it. “Mame, I don’t know what you think about the kind of life we are living, but to me it is
only a farce, and the sooner a change is brought about, the better for all concerned. You say your
love for me is dead, and as I don’t have even a very friendly feeling for you and don’t feel that ever I
did love you, what is the use of living on in this way when a separation would be better for both of
us. As I have been thinking of going away as soon as it is convenient and want to go a free man, I
will ask of you the privilege of getting a divorce.

~ 144~

If you want it, it will be all the better for you; if not, then I will proceed to do whatever I think best.
Let the consequences be what they will, for I will get away from this hell on earth. It will cost what it
may. Think the matter over and tell me what you think about it as I mean business and want to
dissolve partnership in as pleasant a way as possible.

Well, I “spread the letter before the Lord” and waited for the words to say. All day I went about
my work as in a dream. I tired to read the Bible but couldn’t tell what I was reading. In the afternoon
Mama came. She had been staying with a friend in Beaver all winter—I tried to be cheerful, so she
wouldn’t see what a shock I had received. After the evening work was done, I got a chance to write
and I covered two sheets of paper. I told him I didn’t believe in divorces and would not consider
myself free to marry again as long as he lived, that I loved women too well to give him a chance to
break the heart of another as he had mine, that if he had treated me right, we never would have had
any trouble, and he never could be happy with another if he treated her as he had me. Another
thing, I thought the time was coming when he would be ill and need my care, and I wanted the right
to be with him and show what Christian forgiveness is. That the “hell” was entirely of his own making,
and if he would give up his evil associations, we might be happy yet. As for what I had said about
my love being dead, I could not love him while he was treating me in such an unlovely manner and
proving himself unworthy of love, but if he would do what was right and be true to me, I would do all
in my power to make his home pleasant. Well, after he had gone to bed, I slipped it under his door,
so he would find it in the morning, and he never made any reply.

He never speaks. Oh, my Father in Heaven, is it possible that such a man can go on living and
not be struck by the recoil of his own wickedness? I never go out anywhere and make no effort to
find out things about him yet reports come to me. I know now that when she went to Bellevue to
hide her disgrace, that he paid a doctor there to produce an abortion and tell that it was heart disease,
that he paid her room rent and went there, time after time, and stayed over Sunday with her, that
she wears fine clothes, a watch, and other articles of jewelry at his expense, and that both of them
tell the most abominable lies about me. Well, I don’t imagine her shoes would pinch me in the least,
but I wouldn’t be in them for all the wealth of the world. She has no friends at all. People who have
known her all her life will not speak to her on the street. How can a woman so lose her self-respect:
what is there in such a life to compensate for the loss of virtue?

May 10, 1895

What wonderful changes the bells of time are ringing out. The quick, sharp notes of pain, the
heavy chords of deep feeling, the laughing notes of discord, and through it all the mellow undertone
of perfect peace. The summer passed as usual. Hard work and suffering making up the sum total
of my existence. There is always someone to help “in His name” and I have the assurance that the
work is accepted, “Inasmuch” etc. In September last, Jim went away on Saturday evening, saying
he would not be back until Monday. He didn’t come for two weeks or send any word to relieve my
anxiety. When he came home he said he had been sick with heart trouble, had fallen on the street
in the city, and had to be taken to a hotel where his bill was over $90. The next day he was able to
come down to dinner but didn’t eat much and went back to his room. Pretty soon Lu came in with a
basket full of everything nice to eat, walked past the door of the room where I was sitting, and went
upstairs where she stayed talking with him for some time. When she came down, I followed her out
and said, “Don’t you think you are carrying this too far?” “Well, he told me to bring over his dinner,
and I had to.” “Not at all. He had as good a dinner here as the rest of us had, and even if you must
bring him something, you had no call to go upstairs. What is the reason you can’t let him alone and
not hang around him this way?” “I have to. I can’t help it.” “Well, you are pretty far gone” and I went
in the house. After a while I went upstairs and asked him if I could take the dishes down.

~ 145~