"Just as the sun was sinking in the west they took up their habitation in a deserted log cabin with puncheon floor. It was the 31st day of October, and as their Halloween diversion they heard the howls of wolves, screams of catamounts, hoots of owls and sounds of other inhabitants of the wild. As a further pleasure to them within three and four hundred yards, were located two Indian villages. Their first night under such circumstances is one that would not soon be forgot."
So the story goes that we have oft' been told,
Of a Halloween night of old.
Through the wilderness of Ohio they did travel,
'Twas back in eighteen hundred and forty-five.
Following the meandering trail,
Midst the forests and the vale,
Was a mother with five young children.
Jones was their name - Elizabeth, Maxia,
Catherine, Curtis, Dewitt and Mary.
Household goods and personal possessions,
Loaded in an ox cart, were carried to a new land.
Many untold hardships they would endure,
And their fears would be overcome.
Though friends and family were left behind,
New friends in their new home they would find.
Marriage, and children would in time arrive.
Trite though it may sound, but true it is,
If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be alive.
=+==+==+==+==+==+=
The first paragraph comes from a newspaper clipping published November 2, 1910 in the Columbia City Post wherein Curtis W. Jones tell a little bit about his family coming to Whitley County, Indiana from Muskingum County, Ohio. I've always thought that it could be elaborated upon and had intended to do so for the upcoming edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, but time got away from me. Lame, I know, but that's how it goes. I wrote about Grandma Jones this past February.
1 comment:
Becky,
Your story and poem demonstrates that colonial Americans had a great deal more to be concerned about than "ghosties and beasties and things that go bump in the night."
Janice
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