Pleaae note: When Lucy Fletcher Kellogg died in 1891, she left behind a typewritten manuscript which she called a "Diary", although she apparently didn't begin writing it until she was in her late 80's. There are at least two copies of that manuscript. One is maintained by the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Massachusetts. Another is contained at Oberlin College, Oberlin, Ohio.
Although she calls it a "Diary," Lucy Fletcher Kellogg left eighteen typescript pages of memoirs, which she had not begun to write until she was eighty-six years old. Her autobiography is not as full an account of a life as others in this collection, but is noteworthy, considering the relative rarity in the early Republic of women writing their life stories at all. Yet more arresting is the fact that Kellogg and her sons and daughters were involved in one of the then most radical educational experiments in America-that of Oberlin College, with its path-breaking admission of women and African Americans in the 1830's; even so, Oberlin figures in Kellogg's memoirs primarily as the site of family events.
Born Lucy Fletcher, Kellogg grew up in New England, moving from place to place because, as she notes of her family, "In accordance with the instincts of New England people, they must sell their farm and move to New Hampshire or some other new place." Her father alternately farmed, traded goods, ran a brickyard, and kept a tavern. Prosperous enough to send his daughter to dancing classes and a boarding school, he still welcomed her effort to earn some money herself, which she and her sisters did by braiding straw for hats and weaving fine gingham shirting and bed ticking.
Kellogg's frontier experience-so common for those reaching maturity after the War of 1812-came when she accompanied her married sister to Chautauqua County, New York, making what to her was a romantic journey in a large covered wagon pulled by a yoke of oxen. Traveling twenty miles a day, they finished their 500-mile trip in less than a month. Kellogg found a school-teaching job that paid $1.25 a week plus room and board. Lodging in the same home was a man "of good deportment and steady habits" from Vermont, Titus Kellogg, whom she married when she was twenty-five years old.
Like her father, Lucy Fletcher's husband farmed, turned his hand to merchandising, and ran an ashery where he bought the potash from local farmers' timber burning to process into pearl ash. Like so many other ventures in the ebullient American economy, his failed, and he began a search for a new frontier, which took him to Louisiana and Texas. In Louisiana Titus Kellogg bought soldiers' bounty land warrants for many thousands of acres, only twelve hundred of which he took possession of. Congress in the early nineteenth century voted to give soldiers warrants to land, which the soldiers often sold for ready cash. Veterans of the War of 1812, for instance, received bounties of 160 acres between the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers. For many years there was a brisk business in soldiers' patents.
The Kelloggs were attracted to Oberlin College because it offered students a chance to mix manual labor with schooling, and they sent their two eldest children and a younger son there. For their daughter Mary, Oberlin became a permanent home when she married a fellow student, James Harris Fairchild, who was also a native of Massachusetts. After graduating in 1831, Fairchild served his alma mater for the next fifty-seven years, twenty-three of which as president.
At this juncture, having left the two eldest children at Oberlin, the Kellogg family moved to Louisiana, where Kellogg's husband had bought a farm in Claiborne Parish. Traveling through the month of August, they departed from Cincinnati in a covered wagon, camping along the way with their remaining children. Despite their Northern background and Oberlin associations, the Kelloggs had six adult slaves, each with families. Kellogg makes no mention of slavery as an institution in her autobiography and makes only the most oblique references to slaves, in order to distinguish them from her "white family." In Louisiana, a dear sister lived nearby and the emerging careers of her children gave Kellogg pleasure, but bad luck struck again in the forms of a cotton crop lost to the boll weevil and the death of her husband. Having, as she reports, "never been very well contented in Louisiana," Kellogg returned to the North, where she made her home with two children in Keokuk, Iowa .
I am nearly eighty-six years old, and not finding much to do, and to busy myself, I thought I would write down some events of my life which are impressed upon my memory.
I am the third child of my parents. My father's name was Ebenezer Fletcher. My mother's name was Mary Goldthwait.
My father had a small farm left him by his father, in the town of Sutton, Mass., where they, my parents, moved nine years after they first married. Their three first children were born there.
In accordance with the instincts of New England people, they must sell their farm and move to New Hampshire or some other new place. They did so, and removed to Croydon, New Hampshire. My father engaged in merchandising, and remaining there five years, returned to Massachusetts and bought a farm in the town of Worcester. We had a family of five children. We lived there about eighteen years, having left New Hampshire in the year 1800. I was then six years old, but I remember the place we left in New Hampshire well, and of going to school and many of my playmates, and the journey back to Massachusetts.
I also remember when Washington died, which occurred when we were living in Croydon in 1799 when I was in my seventh year. My father at the time was lieutenant in a militia company. I remember how he was dressed: with long blue coat, metal buttons and yellow facings, with small clothes and vest of same color, with long white stockings and cocked hat, with a long black ribbon tied on his left arm as a badge of mourning for Washington. Some time afterward, at school, we repeated in concert these lines:
"General George Washington is no more, Who shall now defend our coasts, Guide our councils, lead our hosts, Heaven propitious, hear our cry, Send us help when danger's nigh."
Worcester is the town where I spent my youth. We had good common school advantages. My father lived in a large house and kept a tavern. When I was twelve years old, I attended a dancing school, with my two brothers and two sisters, which I enjoyed much.
When I was sixteen I went to a boarding school at Sutton, Mass. The teacher's name was Miss Thayer, where I learned some things not taught in the common schools in those days, such as geography with the use of maps, needlework, drawing and painting in watercolors, and I was much interested in studying them. Of my work in the latter I had two pieces framed. One was Dr. Stern's "Maria", and the other was a bunch of the beautiful Moss Roses.
Before my boarding school experience, when I was thirteen, my sister Fanny and myself went into a town adjoining Worcester, to learn the art of braiding straw. After that we could earn our own clothes. New England people in those days were very industrious. My father owned a small farm, and a nice home, but had not sufficient income to supply his daughters with all their wants. But the war of 1812 coming on, the straw business failed, and we changed our business. We got a couple of looms and set them up in our east room, and we took cotton yarn from the factories, which were beginning to spread in Massachusetts, and wove fine shirtings, gingham, and bed tickings, for the factories, and for ourselves, as English goods were not to be had. Of No. 20 yarns we made fine gingham dresses of light and dark colors, which were good enough in time of war. We continued our business of weaving four or five years.
While our brothers Eleazer and Adolphus lived at home, my father had a brickyard and my oldest brother, Eleazer, went into the brick making business, and brother Adolphus went into town into the office of Isaiah Thomas, the renowned printer of the "Massachusetts Spy". I think it was in 1812 that he, Adolphus, commenced learning this trade. My oldest brother, Eleazer, joined an independent company of light infantry in Worcester; the Captain's name was Levi Lincoln.
The governor of Massachusetts called troops to go to Boston to guard the town, and that company volunteered to go. I remember it was quite a trial to us to fix him off, but he came safely back after a time.
About this time my sister Fanny was married to Jas. McClellan, of Sutton. They lived in Sutton near his father's till 1817, when they made up their minds to move to the far west, to Chautauqua County, N. Y. He, McC., not having been fortunate in some factory investments, my sister being delicate, my mother consented to my going with them. This was a romantic journey to me. My oldest brother had gone the year before, and had bought mills, there, and had invited me to come, telling me their country justice of the peace was single.
But this long and exciting journey I began to tell about: we had a large covered wagon, a large yoke of oxen, and a large strong horse, just what we should want when we got there. I well remember the morning we started from father McClellan's hospitable mansion, having made our adieus and seated ourselves in the wagon. My brother-in-law, with his ox whip in hand, was to walk. As he started up his team, his little daughter, two years old, called out in high glee, "Cornelia, do ride", which was noticed and repeated by the dear family whom we were leaving. The journey we had commenced was 500 miles. If no mishap prevented, we traveled about twenty miles per day. The first day riding in the covered wagon, I got dreadfully seasick, but I got better and started on the next morning.
The third day we arrived in Springfield, sixty miles from Sutton. It was the largest town we had seen after leaving Worcester. It was a grief to me to leave Massachusetts without having seen Boston or the Ocean; Springfield was remarkable for its bridge across the Connecticut river, and the arsenal. The bridge was long and covered. We trudged on until we arrived in Albany, N. Y. This was the largest place I had ever seen. There we crossed the Hudson on a horse boat, which was a great curiosity to me. In those days there were no steamboats, canals, nor railroads, but a large public road, called the great western turnpike, with toll gates and taverns in plenty. It was a flat country of three hundred miles between Albany and Buffalo, and we could look straight ahead as far as the eye could reach and discern several tavern signs ahead of us as we proceeded onwards.
When we arrived in Buffalo, a town at the foot of Lake Erie, as we found the roads very bad, my brother-in-law took the heaviest of his goods from the wagon, and his family and shipped them on board a little sloop called the "Buffalo Packet". His family consisted of his wife, myself, and two children, James, aged nearly four years, and Cornelia, two years, and he went on with his team on the lake shore, through the mud, sixty miles, arriving in due time at Portland Harbor, the place where he expected to meet his family. There he waited several days. The night after we started, there came up a storm and drove us back to Buffalo, but we could not get in, and had to cast anchor two miles out, in sight of the town, where we laid tossing two days and nights. As soon as possible the people of Buffalo sent out a boat and took the passengers, sixteen in number, in safety back to a public house, where we stayed until the storm was over, when we went aboard again, and arrived at last at our desired haven, Portland Harbor, where we took the stage or wagon to Mayville, a little town at the head of Chautauqua Lake. We traveled on, near the shore of that lake, about twenty miles to a clearing, where my brother-in-law had located, having been on the road about six weeks. It was a romantic little place in the thick woods. A few years before, Reuben Slayton had built a saw and grist mill and a log house, which had grown to be a large dwelling as the family increased, and now having plenty of boards, had built on bed rooms and galleries on all sides. It looked like an oasis in the wilderness, which we were rejoiced to find ready for our use and we named it the "Old Abbey".
We were all in good health, and we went to work contentedly in the little log cabin, though we had left handsome and spacious dwellings in Massachusetts. My sister Fanny and I enjoyed the new country well. I continued to live with my sister till the next winter, when I had an application to teach a small school in the neighborhood. It was my first attempt at school keeping, but the school was small, and my wages were also small, namely $1.25 per week and boarded. I got through with my term at last, and was glad to get back to my home with my sister. The summer following I engaged in another school; here I enjoyed myself better, the school was some larger and more young people my own age. My wages were $1.50 per week and boarded, as before. Boarding in the family where I lived was a young man from Burlington, Vt., by the name of Titus Kellogg, of good deportment and steady habits, to whom I became engaged in a short time, and was married the next winter. It was on February 7, 1819, that that event took place and I was twenty-five years old.
My husband was industrious and energetic, and he bought some land near to the settlements of my brothers, and to the village afterwards called Ashville, and built a house and barn. But clearing that heavy timbered land soon told injuriously upon his constitution, and he was obliged to change. He went into merchandising, and in that business he was more successful. He built an ashery and bought from the farmers their pot ashes, and manufactured them into pearl ashes, which he could exchange for goods. He built a store and a dwelling in Ashville, and continued in that business six or eight years, or until 1830, when wishing to increase his business, he sold out his prosperous business and property in Ashville, and removed to the larger town of Jamestown. There he went heavily into business, with two partners, and in about three years failed and lost all he had gained in the preceding ten years.
We continued to live in Jamestown until 1838. -My husband striving courageously to regain his former easy circumstances, with varying success, but on the whole, failed to do so, though quite able to provide a decent living for his family. In that year my husband, whose health had become impaired with long troubles, determined to change his residence to a southern climate. The preceding winter he had traveled south in company with a family by the name of Russell, in search of health, and on his part, also in search of business opportunities. They took a sea voyage from New Orleans Texasward, and landed at the port of Matagorda, at the mouth of the Colorado, and spent the winter there. Having taken from New Orleans a small stock of goods, he went into trade, where he was reasonably successful in business, and increased his means. Among other transactions he bought many soldiers' bounty land warrants, many thousand acres, but from want of proper care and attention, the lands and warrants were scattered and lost in after years. Nevertheless, the deed and protected title to twelve hundred acres of this land, in Brown County, is still in our family.
My husband returned to Jamestown the following season, and set to work to settle his affairs with the view to take his family south.
Up to this time I have not mentioned a word about our children, three daughters and three sons, and it was our pleasant duty to care for them. Three years before this time, there came to us at Jamestown, a report of a famous school, a manual labor school at Oberlin in Ohio, where young people could acquire an education and learn to work and help to support themselves. As we had little now to depend on, we made up our minds to send our two oldest, Mary and Augustus, to Oberlin. They were pretty well advanced in the common branches, having attended the academy in Jamestown. The school at Oberlin had prospered and become a college. Mary, my daughter, has lived there ever since, except two years spent in the south. She became engaged to a student there, Jas. H. Fairchild, who afterwards became a professor in the college, about 1840.
Our son Augustus [Charles Augustus Kellogg], remained in the school about two years, having entered college there about 1837, soon after which it became necessary for lack of money in those hard times, that he should return home.
But I was going to tell about moving south. We gathered up our household effects, embarked on a flat boat, Capt. Benham, at Jamestown, and continued on her down the river as far as Cincinnati. My husband being already gone on in advance, to look after the business he had already established in Texas. Our children were all with us then, as also my niece, Martha Fletcher. The season was much advanced towards winter, and we concluded to pass the winter at Cincinnati, where we remained until August of the following year 1839. Mary and Augustus went to teaching in the common schools of the city. We kept house altogether there, and not unpleasantly, while my husband was preparing a home for us at the south. In about a year or less he returned for us, having closed up his Texas venture, and had located at Minden, Claiborne Parish [now Webster Parish], Louisiana.
It was in the month of August, 1839, the weather was warm, and we all thought it would be pleasant to journey southward in our own conveyance and camp out. So my husband bought three good horses, one larger and stronger, for the barouche, in which I and my younger children were to ride. The other two horses to draw a covered wagon, which contained our trunks, camp equipage and other baggage, and the two boys were to drive that. He said he could sell the horses, etc. on our arrival at Minden, for as much as they had cost. We started from Cincinnati, crossed the Ohio River and entered the State of Kentucky, taking a southwesterly course, on the first of August 1839, and never had a rainy day, or any bad weather, for the six weeks we were on the road, until we reached within about fifty miles of our journey's end, when we all got a wetting in a severe storm, which caused three of our family severe attacks of fever, which required careful nursing some time after our arrival at home, to cure and overcome. On the whole, we had a very delightful and successful journey. We went on very leisurely, and did not suffer from heat. We had a tent, and would buy our provisions on the road, both for ourselves and horses; cooked for ourselves, slept on good beds under our tent, and stopped on the grassy banks of a stream for regular washdays and for rest when needed.
I could relate some anecdotes of remarkable providences and hairbreadth escapes we experienced during our protracted journey. My husband had selected, by the side of the road, a charming grove of high trees for our camping ground, one still summer evening just about sundown, and the Katydids were making the grove ring. They were the first I had ever heard. We were preparing for the night, pitching the tent and getting ready for our picnic supper. Mary was sitting under a tree bathing her feet, when we began to hear a crackling sound, and soon one of the big trees fell with a thundering crash; some of the small limbs fell on Mary's dress as she sat there, but it did not hurt any of us.
Our children were all with us then. We had three sons and three daughters, and Mary was the oldest. This was in Kentucky, the first night, I think, after crossing the river at Cincinnati. We were taking a southwestern course, and in a few days we were in the neighborhood of the Mammoth Cave. We stopped to examine a cave we found contiguous-we had halted at a place by the side of the road; it was not a public place. There were some women there; they told us we could go in, and my two boys, Augustus and Edwin, eighteen and sixteen years old, eager to see the cave, had taken the two lamps from the barouche and gone in at the opening without any guide and we felt not a little fearful. The rest of us were waiting around the outside until we thought it high time they should return, and my husband called them but no answer. He raised his voice to loudest pitch, when we became frightened and screamed with all our might, but never made them hear. Then came a few minutes of agony. I thought my precious boys were gone forever, but soon, perhaps ten minutes, the light began to glimmer, and they came back safely to our arms. We were afterwards informed that sound would not circulate or penetrate far into caves where there were many short turns. So we cheerily pursued our journey.
By some accident my little boy, George, lost his pretty straw hat that I had bought for him in Cincinnati. For pastime and pleasure I gathered straw from the bundles of oats we bought for our horses and made him another. I braided and sewed it as we rode along in our pretty barouche. As we were traveling along one day, our pet, baby Lucy, fell out between the wheels. In agony I looked out just in time to see the wheel grazing her legs as she lifted them on the outside of the wheel. She escaped without a scratch. So we were enabled by a kind providence assisting, to proceed on our journey.
I will tell another little story, a snake story. We had camped on the Cumberland river, on a pleasant rocky bluff, and had supped. My husband took the little tin bucket containing our butter to a safe place by the side of a spring, when he saw two rattlesnakes; it was in the twilight, and we could not change our location then. So, with a tender father's care, he never told us about the snakes, but made up his mind to watch by the side of the tent, all night, which he did, but saw no more of the snakes.
We stopped one day to wash. We had lost our reckoning; thought it was Saturday and it proved to be Sunday. We washed all that day, and did not find it out till Monday morning, when we saw all the people going about their work. But our horses got a day of rest, if we did not.
We came to the Mississippi river at Memphis, where we crossed the river on a ferry boat. I remember how hard it was getting up the bank on the other side. Now we had to cross the great Mississippi swamp bottom. It was a dry season, and my husband thought it a favorable time to make the crossing, but we found plenty of black mud to go through. Our pretty barouche was sadly disfigured. We had to walk a good part of the way. My two daughters, finding they could get along better barefooted, took off their shoes and stockings. I remember how their little white feet contrasted with the black mud. We traveled on two or three days through this swamp.
After further journeying through a more elevated region we reached the city of Little Rock, in Arkansas, and found an old friend there. We kept on our course, southwest from Little Rock, through a pine woods hilly country, with light sandy soil. When we had reached within some seventy-five miles of our destination, we were overtaken by the storm before mentioned. It rained harder and faster than I had ever seen it do before. We were in an unsettled wilderness; there was no shelter whatever, and we had to take it, and were all thoroughly drenched, which was followed by the fever in three of our number, with the consequences before mentioned.
It was noticeable that Mary and Augustus who had already experienced some malarial influences, in Ohio, were two who escaped this attack of fever at this time. It was my husband, Edwin and Marcia that were sick.
At last we arrived in Minden, found Joel Rathburn in charge of the store of goods my husband had left in his hands, a duty that he had faithfully discharged. We took board for a time with Mr. Cleveland, where our sick met the care and kindly treatment so necessary to us all, especially our sick ones.
Our next change was to go on a plantation, which I gladly complied with.
My husband had traded for a good improvement two or three miles from Minden, and thither we went with good courage. We had three men, Richard, Ackrell and Joe, and three women, Peggy, Jane and Mary. Peggy's children were Chloe, Maria, Cinderella, Henry and Joe; Jane's children were Cornelia and Hatty. We remained at this first plantation but about two years, when we sold that place and removed to another place purchased down on Lake Bistineau, some fifteen miles away, and in a better planting country, and only a short distance from my dear sister Lovisa, who had, with her husband, Joshua Alden, and their children, settled in this region many years before, and whose presence there had been the cause of my husband's first visiting this remote part of the country, and influenced us strongly in favor of settlement in Louisiana, and reconciled us in a measure to the necessary deprivations which were inseparable from a residence there.
This last removal took place in the year, I think of 1843 or 1844.
Our white family at this time consisted of my husband and myself, and Lucy, then eleven or twelve years old. My oldest daughter, Mary, as before stated, had been married to Prof. Fairchild, in 1841, and returned to Oberlin, taking with her my youngest son, George, for the privilege of education at Oberlin. Marcia had shortly after married, and was settled in the north. Augustus, about this time, after being engaged for some time as a steamboat clerk, was established as a clerk in a commercial house in New Orleans. Edwin, having been elected county clerk at the age of twenty-one years, went to the county seat, Bellevue, of the new parish lately formed from Claiborne, called Bossier.
Our new plantation was situated in the southern part of this parish, near to Lake Bistineau. Sister Alden, with her interesting and good children, was situated on their little prairie farm, only two miles from us. Her being there was an unspeakable comfort and consolation to me. We met very frequently and could and did greatly encourage each other. We had about two hundred acres of land under fence and improvement, all cultivated, say one hundred acres in corn, and one hundred acres in cotton. The soil was so rich and mellow that it was wonderful to see how thriftily and easily everything would grow. We had a garden paled in, where vegetables grew in abundance.
Our fruits were chiefly peaches and figs, and some wild varieties, but we had no apples. About this time, my husband built a gin house, for the ginning of cotton. While raising it, it fell, but very fortunately no one was injured. The builder, however, put it up again directly, and more securely.
One year our crop of cotton was totally destroyed by the cotton worm. Apparently the worms went through the fields inside of three days, eating up every green leaf or tender twig or boll. The fields looked as though ravaged by fire, leaving a reddish black desolation.
We had plenty of cows, horses and hogs, and did not suffer for the necessaries of life, but had to forego many of the conveniences, and most of the luxuries. I tried to be contented through all my tribulations while my husband lived. About this time my dear mother died at sister Fanny's, in Illinois, where they had been established since the year 1835.
My husband had commenced the work of the year vigorously, had got in a large and good crop, which was near maturity, when in the month of August, there came a fatal disease, the congestive chill, which carried him off very suddenly and unexpected. I had, myself, during the same summer, suffered much from fever, and my husband nursed me. Now, he was taken and I was left.
And, now my husband being gone, and Augustus, my oldest son, being in New Orleans, I had never been very well contented in Louisiana, it did not take long to make up our minds to sell out our plantation and other effects. Considering our neighbors, the Bryans, were able and willing to buy all our property, so we sold out to them, and left Bossier for New Orleans, and thought we would make a home in New Orleans, and board Augustus. We rented and furnished a house very pleasantly, and lived there about two months. However, it was the year the cholera was so bad in New Orleans, and upon a nearer view of this repulsive and dangerous disease, we got frightened, and no doubt with good reason, we packed up our goods, such as we thought best to take, got on a steamer, and never stopped until we reached our final refuge among friends and relatives, in the goodly and Christian town of Oberlin, Ohio, where we arrived on the tenth of April, 1849, just about ten years after our departure for the south, from Cincinnati.
We lived in James' and Mary's family for one year, when we bought a house in Oberlin and occasionally kept some student boarders. Also, my sister, Lovisa Alden and Emma, came from Jamestown, to live with us, and Emma and Lucy attended the college school. Edwin obtained employment in a store, and was soon to go into that business where he continued many years. My son George, who had graduated before from Oberlin College, commenced the study of the medical profession at Cleveland.
My sister, Lovisa, and I continued housekeeping with some boarders, for a year or two, when Edwin's health becoming somewhat impaired, and having a good chance to sell, we sold our house to Mr. Johnson, and I and my family went back to board with James and Mary, which always felt to us as a home.
Soon afterwards my son Edwin went into business in merchandising with Mr. Isaac Johnson, and not long after, about 1853, was married to Miss Julia Birge, with whom [he] has lived happily unto this day. Her sister, Esther Birge, who was married to Reuben Fairchild, on the same day with Julia, died in, I believe, 1855, leaving a little boy eleven months old, whom Julia took, and has brought up and educated, now the promising young man, E. K. Fairchild.
My sister Alden, not far from this time, I think in the fall of 1853, was married to Mr. William Maxwell, of Mansfield, Ohio, with whom she lived in peace and contentment until his decease at Mansfield, a few years ago, and where I have been a guest, and passed many pleasant weeks through the intervening long years, always finding sympathy and an open-armed and sisterly welcome.
My oldest son, Augustus, after helping us off in 1849, to seek a place of safety, went back to his business in New Orleans, where he continued from the time his beginning there, say about 1844, until 1857, some thirteen years, when he dissolved his New Orleans business connection, and, with his savings, established himself in Keokuk, Iowa, just in time to escape some of the bad effects of the great financial revulsions and misfortunes that prevailed in the United States before the close of that year.
Mr. Charles P. Birge had become engaged to my daughter Lucy since 1855 or '56. In the fall of that year, 1856, in association with my son, Augustus, he came to Keokuk, Iowa, and commenced business which has been continued with much success until this day. Augustus and Edwin, one or both of them being associated therewith throughout the entire period. Mr. Birge came to Oberlin in the fall of 1857, and was married to Lucy in December of that year, and with her removed to Keokuk immediately, and was soon established in housekeeping.
As one after another my daughters have been married and left me, I have naturally felt as though the youngest most needed such aid and assistance as I could give. And I have made my home ever since, shortly after her marriage, with her in Keokuk, where she and her young family have shared my care-and all that I could do for their benefit. My daughter Lucy, has always been a good and affectionate daughter, and her house has furnished me a fit and very happy home and refuge in my old age. My son Augustus, has also been, during the whole of this period, except for the four years he was in Europe, my constant friend and associate, and under the same roof.
[Mrs. Kellogg died October 2, 1891, a few days short of her ninety-eighth birthday]