Mary Beckley Bristow
Letters, Notes and Verses, 1855-1857:
My Very Dear Father
February 21st, 1858.
These letters were written to my Dear old Father during his last stay in Illinois and the last year of his life.1 I transcribe them that I may the oftener be reminded of him, and because sometimes the thought will intrude into my mind that I was not so affectionate to him as I should have been. This reflection made me glad when I opened a bunch of letters and papers brought to Ky. last Spring by my Niece, Sallie Breckinridge, his Granddaughter,2 who faithfully waited on him until his death, which took place October 10th, 1855, to find these letters. I wrote to him, as I felt at the time [that I] was not disposed to go with him in error, but firmly believed him to be a christian who had been led by circumstances and the condition of his mind into error.3 I have not changed my opinion; fully believe that he is now with Jesus.
Jesus is all the heaven I know,
The only heaven I wish below,
The only heaven in worlds above,
Where Saints shall sing Redeeming love.
Beech Forest, March 27th, 18554
My Dear Father,
I received yours of the 31st Jan two weeks ago tomorrow. We were then busily engaged packing up to move, and Reuben's dear little children5 were there nearly all the time with their sweet chattering and were so troubled at the idea of our moving so much farther from them that they gave me no chance to write. I felt anxious, too, to write once more to you and Caroline6 on my little table7 underneath the window, close by the warm stove you gave me, but could get no time to do it. It made me quite melancholly [sic] to leave Waits Place, though we had such a miserably inconvenient house, for I certainly enjoyed myself greatly with Reuben, Statira and the children. It is also a very pleasant neighborhood. I shall probably look back to something that transpired there of a pleasing kind as long as I live. And I am sure I shall not forget the hot, dry summer.8 We moved here last Sunday week. That is, Mother and I came over then, but we did not get all of our things moved until last Thursday, and I have come to the conclusion that though we are not rich enough to buy a farm here, we have too much to move so often. Volney very kindly brought two loads for us, and Reuben two, or we would not have been done yet. We had very good roads but dreadful cold weather. I felt like my heart's blood was chilled when we got here.
Ance had been here several days before us and we had a good warm room to come into. The cause of Anselm's being here was that he had bought hay and corn in the neighborhood and had moved his sheep here some weeks previous to our moving. The dogs got amongst them and killed seven of his best sheep, among the rest his fine lamb that you will recollect he brought from Bourbon in his buggy. I never saw a poor fellow so hurt as he was about his lamb.9 He could have sold him for 25 or 30 dollars. They lost about fifty dollars worth of sheep I suppose in one night. Ance made a rail pen somewhat in the shape of a snowbird trap,10 put the dead sheep in it, and if any of his own dogs got in, flogged them unmercifully with his buggy whip before he let them out. If any of the neighbors' dogs that he did not know got in, they received a dose of powder and lead, and was dragged out. He is at open war with dogs at present.
Since I came here I have read three letters from you; Sarah Jane,11 Millie Clarkson,12 and Cumberland Wilson13 all handed me your letters to them to read. I am always pleased to hear from you.
Millie Clarkson came home with us from meeting last Sunday. Yesterday her and I went to Volney's. To day we are to meet at Aunt Stevens',14 so I cannot finish this letter this morning. It is now nearly time to start. Oh, how glad I would be if you and Nan Breckinridge could meet there with us. But wishing is a foolish trade. Millie is in dreadful health at this time and is visiting around amongst her friends in hopes it will be of service to her. I think her health is as bad as I ever saw it, but she has weathered many a hard brush, and I hope she will again. She commenced writing to Millie Jane Clarkson15 Monday morning, said if it did not hurt her she would also write to you, but every time she attempted it she took a spell of palpitation. I begged her to desist until she got better. She bids me give you, Nancy, and her children her love. Says she will write as soon as she gets better. Volney's family16 are well. Betsey McConnell's children17 are there; she has gone to Crittenden18 on some business, will return in a few days. Reuben's family are well. The children often talk about you and wonder when Grandpa will come home.
Candlelight — We spent quite a pleasant day with Sister Stephens and family. Had a good dinner and talked a great deal of nonsense and some sense. You will understand by this expression that the religion of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ was not entirely forgotten, for all else is nonsense and not worth a thought. Brother Lassing has been to see us twice since we moved here. He seems to be very glad we have got near him again. You know he was always fond of visiting us, and we are always pleased to see him come. His text last Sunday was, "All things work together for good &c, &c." Romans 8 Chap. and 28th verse.19 I thought he preached very well as far as he went. I told him after we got home he stopped too soon. He replied he could have said a good deal more, but he saw some of the congregation looked sleepy, and he did not wish to preach people to sleep. I consider this a most beautiful passage of Scripture, and the more we watch the dealings of our Kind Heavenly Father with us the better we will be enabled to understand and love it. Yes, assuredly, every loss, cross, temptation, and affliction will work for the good of the children of God. For the trial of their faith worketh patience, and patience experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed because the love of God is shed abroad by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.20
I had decreed in my heart to come out to see you this Spring if I could have got Jess21 hire[d], but as my brothers, instead of making anything, will probably sink several hundred dollars, I can't ask them for it. I never wanted to see you so bad in my life. It is at times almost more than I can bear, and I have to drive the subject out of my mind. Yet I am a hopeful kind of body. I still think I shall come out and stay a while with my beloved Sister's dear children22 and bring you home again. Tomorrow Aunt Stevens is to meet us at Volney's. Next day they will all meet here. We are trying to raise Millie's spirits. You know she is a great favorite with us all. Betsey McConnell speaks of coming by to see you all if she returns to I'll [sic] this Spring. You will all be pleased with her; she is excellent company.
Mother's health is pretty good. Mine is better than when I wrote you last. My eyes are still very weak. All the rest of the family, white and black, are well, and the friends, except Sister Wilson.23 She is much worse than usual. I must stop. May the Lord bless you All. Farewell.
Beech Forest, Friday Evening, April 20th, 1855
My Very Dear Father,
I have been thinking all this week of writing you, but the sudden change in the weather from cold to hot has brought on such a fit of laziness or weakness that I hardly have resolution to do anything. This day one week ago the weather turned warm, and now for several days past we have had all the doors open, the windows hoisted, and better still the pastures and trees are beginning to look beautifully green that one week ago looked like the depth of winter, and I am sure that green pastures were never worse needed. You say in your last that you grieved [?] for Reuben because you feared he would not have food for his stock.24 I think he is better off in that respect than almost any of his neighbors or friends. Selling his hogs in the fall off the rye, before they had eaten any corn, was the saving of him I suppose, for everybody that fed hogs last fall lost their corn, and it would have been better for Brother Julius and Anselm to have sold their cattle and sheep last fall — or even given them away — than to have kept them through the winter. The corn they eat [sic] was nearly a clear loss unless we could have kept them until the grass came, and that was impossible. It has been very difficult to get corn for bread and to feed the work horses, and I suppose they will have to go to town for the next they get, as their is [sic] none to be had in the country. At John Adams' sale,25 corn sold for seven dollars and a half, fodder for sixty cents a shock. This looks like hard times, don't it? We have had a good deal of trouble getting food for our stock, but thus far have had plenty of money to pay down for it. And in that respect was much better off than many of our neighbors.26 I hope I desire to feel thankful, for very sure am I that it is not for any superior goodness or foresight in us, but the good providence of our kind heavenly Father.
April 25th. I was hindered last Friday by company from finishing and sending this letter by Saturday's mail, and have sat down this most lovely Spring morning to converse a while with my Dear old Father whose face I cannot see. You don't know how often in imagination I see you riding up on old Kit. Then I recollect you are far away, and then my eyes gets [sic] warmer than usual. My mind then revisits that far off land where the inhabitants shall never say "I am sick," and where there will be no more parting — no sin — no sorrow — not even a difference of opinion to mar our peace, but we shall be with and like our Lord.
Four days of warm, moist weather has made a great change in the outward world since I commenced this letter. The grass is considerably grown; the trees are covered with some of the most beautiful blossoms. I am sitting in full view of a large black heart cherry tree that is very lovely to look at. And I have been thinking that if a few days of warm weather will effect so much in nature, what a change will be effected in the child[ren] of God when they throw /drop/ off the dull clogs of mortality in the grave and open their eyes on God and the Lamb and the spirits of men made perfect and our own beloved ones, "Who are not lost but gone before." Well might the Poet say, "Death is the gate to endless joys, and yet we sometimes dread to enter there."27 But Jesus, the Captain of our Salvation, rose a mighty conqueror over death and hell and the grave, destroyed death and him who had the power of death. Then
Why should the saints be filled with dread,
Or yield their joys to slavish fear?
Heaven can't be full that holds the head,
'Till every member's present there.
I received yours dated March 23rd two weeks ago. As I had just written to Sally, I waited awhile to answer yours.28 I have, agreeable to your request, read the sixth chapter of Romans. I find it most beautiful and all of a piece, a rich banquet of sovereign, rich, unmerited grace to the chief of sinners. My Father, did you ever hear an old baptist say, "because I am one of the elect I shall be saved any how?" I have heard their enemies say it for them, but never heard one of them hint such a thing in my life. They full well know there is but one how that any soul will ever be saved, and that is through the merits of the dear Redeemer. There is no other name under heaven given amongst men whereby we must be saved but Jesus. They also believe in obeying that form of doctrine that was delivered unto them that Christ died for their sins according to the Scriptures and that he was buried and that he rose again according to the Scriptures. And they also believe that every good work is necessary, not to save them, but they are the fruits of the spirit, and as Br Lassing says, we can call no one a christian unless we see those fruits. I should like to write another whole sheet on this subject but must close and send this to the office,29 or I fear you will be harboring hard thoughts of me. I shall quit transcribing family news.
An extract from the last letter my Niece brought with her, though I wrote regularly, once a month, until his death.
June 26th, 1855
My dear Father,
Your last dated June the 5th was received last week and I can assure you I am always glad to receive your letters and become quite restless if more than two weeks /roll away/ over without receiving a letter from you. I know full well that your greatest pleasure is in writing, and I hope that you may retain your eyesight sufficiently so you may amuse yourself conversing with your absent friends as long as you live. I have been much pleased to find that your eyes are no worse. Indeed, I have concluded from your handwriting that they must have improved some since you left Ky. But you must recollect what a poor, feeble, sickly body I am and how much work I have to do, more this year than usual. Mother is not able to help me but little, and she is very busy with her fowls and her garden.
Brother Southard of Ohio30 preached for us last Saturday and Sunday, and we were quite revived. He preached Jesus and the resurrection. His text on Saturday was in the 15 Chap of first Corinthians, "Oh death where is thy sting? Oh grave where is thy victory?" He spoke a good deal on the first part of the Chapter, and not for a long time have I heard a sweeter preaching. . . .
[Mary once again turns to a discussion of works,31 a subject on which she and her father seem to have disagreed.]
[Included in the packet of letters was this one to Sarah Breckinridge, her niece.]
Beech Forest, March 26, 1855
My Very Dear Niece,32
I have not for a long time received a letter that gave me more pleasure than yours, my dear Sallie, and I lay awake an hour or two the night I received it, answering it and thinking of your dear Mother and old Grandfather and how you all looked. I almost fancied I could I could see you waiting on your old Grandfather. He has spoken of your kindness so often, and I am sure to love those who treat him affectionately.
You say you would like to exchange eyes and hair with me. I don't think you would be wise to give me your young eyes for my poor, old, weak ones that very often prevent me from holding converse with my distant friends. I have never seen prettier hair than mine, except for your deceased grandmother, my dear Sister Jane. But occasionally I find a white hair mingling with the black. Now you would not like that, so I expect if the exchange could be made you would back out instead of giving boots [sic]. It does not matter, dear Sallie, what is the color of the eyes or hair, for beauty is a fading flower. Time does not pay the least respect to it. Some of the ugliest, or rather the plainest looking, girls I knew when I was young are now the best looking matrons. I have known beauty in many cases to prove a bane instead of making the possessor happy. Vanity is all most certain to be its companion, often [with] affectation (the most despicable thing in the world in my estimation) and generally ill temper. The young lady who becomes aware that she is a beauty often conclude [sic] they have need of nothing but fine clothes to set their beauty off to the best advantage, whilst the mind and heart are completely neglected. Cultivate, my dear Sallie, a cheerful, contented disposition. Let your hazel eyes be illumined with goodness, gentleness, perfect good humor and kindly feelings for all around you. I consider a cheerful, contented, unselfish disposition the brightest gem in a woman's chaplet. No one, not even the most contrary characters, can help loving such a temperament. Beauty is admired; goodness loved.
I was anxious to pay you a visit this spring, but have to defer it for a time. But as soon as I get sufficient funds that I can spare, I intend coming for your Grandfather. I am very anxious to see him one more time. I have it in my heart, as your Grandfather says, to go to town as soon as the weather gets warmer and have my picture taken33 with Eddie in my lap for your Grandfather and yourself. I want you to see your Aunt Pap, and may be we may never see each other's face in the flesh.
Bettie Bristow34 will be thirteen years old next July. She is very pretty in my eyes but not of a happy disposition. She is affectionate but too apt to fret at trifles. Kate35 is generally thought to be prettier and of a much happier temperament. Your Uncle Reuben's children are all good looking. Eddie,36 my present pet, has the finest eyes I ever saw. Jane Dickerson37 is one of the loveliest children I ever [saw]. I have never discovered but one flaw in her, a little selfishness. Nannie38 is not so pretty in my eyes, though some persons admire her the most, but she is one of the smartest children I have ever seen, a proud, independent looking creature, and said to be just like me. But she always reminds me of her Grandfather Ellis; I often call her old Bob. Tell your mother that Lucien's39 voice is just like it was when he amused her so much throwing it at the gobbler. He is a very handsome boy and very careful of his Mother when she is sick. I will draw off the ages of the children and send them to your Grandfather according to his request the first opportunity. Tell him that I always want him to recollect that half I have belongs to him; he must draw on me freely. I don't say this to hurt your mother's feelings, for I think I know her, but because I feel it a duty and a privilege to do for my dear old Father.
Your Aunt Sarah Jane was quite sick last week with a bad cold and had the blues to perfection. I petted her up, and she is better. You must always pet your Mother, Sally, when she is poorly. You don't know how much good it does.
I wish you to be careful in writing and not leave out words. You will see what a bad habit I got into when I was young, and it cleaves to me yet. Such habits are easily broken in the young by taking pains. Your Grand Mother joins me in love to you all.
Your affectionate Aunt, Mary B Bristow
Beech Forest, March 2d, 1856.
Dear Brother Beebe,40
 Gilbert Beebe 1800-1881 |
Hamilton Place41
Pleasant Retreat, August 22nd 1857.
I have placed this paper in this pasteboard for the purpose of transcribing all my original pieces. Had written some of them years ago, and perhaps some of my beloved nieces will be as glad to read it as I was, many years ago, to find the old songs and letters written by my dear old Aunt Molly Clarkson,42 who departed this life when I was seventeen years old. Oh, how it rejoices my heart to find that the same things treasured up by this dear, departed saint, whom I had dearly loved, and with whom I was vain enough to think myself a favorite, and one who was so highly esteemed by all who knew her as a christian, should so exactly suit my case. Very precious were these old relics to me in the first years of my pilgrimage. . . .
August 23 [1857]
. . . In looking up old pieces of my writing this morning, I came across an old letter43 that I intend to write in this book as I believe it to be the first I ever wrote on the subject of religion in my life (with one exception). Several years after the death of Aunt White, her daughter Louisa Dickerson found this letter amongst her papers and handed it to me. I retained it as a reminder of God's goodness to me, an unworthy worm. The letter had no date, but must have been written 1839 or 40, as it was about that time that I almost entirely lost the use of my left limb from a scrofulous tumor,44 and I have also a perfect recollection that the pain of body, though extremely excruciating, was a very small matter in comparison to the harrassing doubts and fears that beset my mind. I have ever since looked back to that exercise of mind [as a] lesson of real importance taught me to [my] profit after I joined the church in October '36. I still hope it was the teachings of the Holy Spirit. A short time before this tumor made its appearance, I attended an Association at Crews Creek.45 On Friday, after the Introductory [discourse] was preached and letters read, we repaired to the stand. The first sermon was preached by my old uncle, Archibald Bristow.46 One expression of his I have not forgotten. Have often since then questioned its truth and yet firmly believe it to be true. It was this: No matter how fearful or trying the predicament in which the child of God was placed, it was best for them and most for the honor and glory of God. Oh, how often since then have I said within my heart when sorely tried and tempted beyond any strength, how can this work for my good or God's glory? The next sermon was by Brother Lewis Atkins47 on the types and shadows.48 I have never to this day heard that subject more beautifully handled. Both of these watchmen were soon after called home, yet I still love to think of them. . . .
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Notes:
[Click on footnote number to return to text.]
1 In his 85th year, he was on an extended visit to some of his grandchildren who were living in western Illinois.
2 Actually a great granddaughter, one of the children of Oliver Hazard Perry Breckinridge (1813?-1851) and Nancy Ellis (1815?- ). (See below, entries for Jan 1858.).
3 James Bristow differed from his wife and daughter on some matters of religious doctrine and had left the Particular Baptist church. By 1850 the strain was severe enough to cause him to leave home and take up residence with his son, Reuben. Mary speaks of her father as a "reformer" — a term used to describe the followers of Alexander Campbell. He is sometimes referred to as a Campbellite preacher. (See below, A Relation of My Experience.)
4 Mary gave names to several of her homes. Identifying them a century and a half later is impossible. There are a lot of beech trees in Boone and Kenton counties, even today. General Stephens called his home Beech Woods.
5 By this time, there would have been eight children, ranging in age from eighteen (Julius Lucien), down to one (Louis Lunsford), with two more yet to be born.
6 Caroline Bristow (1810-1894), daughter of Mary's uncle, Rev. Archibald Bristow. She married, 16 Feb 1827 in Todd County, Kentucky, Hiram W. Ashburn, M D, about whom almost nothing further is known. She and her sister Philadelphia (1822-1878) were raised by their childless uncle, John Bristow (1776-1840), in northern Clark County. Philadelphia (who was known as "Kippy"), married Isaac Stipp (1820-1897). After her death, Isaac married Caroline's daughter, Victoria Ashburn (1838-1916). All four are buried in the Clintonville cemetery, in southwest Bourbon County close to where Mary spent her childhood.
7 Mary's writing table survives (1995). Family tradition holds that it was made for her by her youngest brother, Anselm, to accommodate her tiny physical stature.
8 The drought of 1854 had been especially severe. According to Collins' History of Kentucky, 1: 73, the weather, with "high temperatures and little rain" was the worst since 1838. The drought broke on Sep 14.
9 If Mary is right about the value of the lamb, it would have been a champion, well worth a special trip from Bourbon County. It is impossible to make accurate comparisons of the value of money across a century and a half, but the "25 or 30 dollars" might easily be more than ten times that today.
10 Not, as might be assumed, an RV park for Canadian retirees. "Snowbird" was a popular local term for the junco. The large game that once roamed Kentucky in great abundance had been hunted out within a few years of settlement, and birds and small game made a valuable supplement to the diet. I have not been able to find a picture of a snowbird trap, but it was probably a funnel-shaped device, similar to what Californians would know as a lobster pot, which the quarry could enter easily but not exit.
11 Sarah Jane Ellis, Volney Dickerson's wife.
12 The widowed Mildred M. Kendrick (1812-1891), who had married in Boone County, on 27 Jul 1834, Manoah Baskett Clarkson (1810-1847), the youngest son of Julius Clarkson by his second wife, Peggy. She is a frequent figure in Mary's Journals. By 1870 she had moved to Randolph County, Missouri. Mildred was a popular name among the Clarksons and their in-laws, giving rise to some confusion.
13 Cumberland H. Wilson (1819-1902), the eldest brother of Martha Jane Wilson, who married Anselm Wadkin Bristow in 1860. Their youngest son was named Cumberland H. Bristow.
14 Not identified. She may have been Agnes Nelson Stephens (1782-1865), the wife of Statira's uncle, Benjamin Stephens, Jr. (1779-1855). She is also called "Sister Stephens."
15 Probably Mildred Jane Clarkson (1833-1916), a daughter of Mary's uncle James Minor Clarkson and his second wife, Patsy Neal. They were living in Quincy, Illinois, not far from Nannie Breckinridge. Mildred Jane married in 1868 one of her father's medical students, Joel Grant Williams, Jr. (1834- ?).
16 See below, 26 Apr 1855.
17 Volney's sister, Elizabeth Dickerson (b abt 1814), who had married her cousin, Samuel Willis McConnell. Only three children are yet identified: Nancy, Elizabeth, and Sarah. Her mother-in-law, Elizabeth Butts (Clarkson) McConnell had died in 1835, shortly after the family moved from Bourbon County, Kentucky, to west central Illinois.
18 The town in northern Grant County, about twenty miles south of Volney's home near Union.
19 The full verse is, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose." The following verses go on to deal with predestination.
20 See Romans 5: 3-5.
21 One of the family "servants" not otherwise identified. Mary's chief source of income was from hiring out her slaves who were not needed for work in the Bristow home or farm. (See below, 4 Jan 1858.)
22 John B. Ellis and Nancy (Ellis) Breckinridge, children of Mary's eldest sister, Jane Shelton Bristow and Robert Ellis. (See below, 9 Jan 1858 and 18 Nov 1858.)
23 Probably Nancy Wilson, the sister of Thornton Wilson. (See below, 6 May 1863.)
24 Reuben's father-in-law Leonard Stephens had described the hard times in a letter written to his brother William in Missouri six months before:
You speak of the drouth as having been extremely bad in your state. I assure you it has been worse with us than I ever knew it before in my life & the consequence is that there is bound to be a great scarcity of grain here, & its effects are already felt. Corn is selling in the fields at three dollars per barrel & it is all laid at more than it will make by at least a barrel in the acre, which, of course makes it cost the buyer that much more. The grass, too, is all dried up & eat up so, that we are bound to have a hard time of it the coming winter. We have very few vegetables of any kind. We have about a half crop of corn in this neighborhood. The small grain & grass crop was tolerably good and well saved. Stephens Letters, 28-29.
25 Not identified. There were several Adams families in the neighborhood, at least two, according to census records, headed by a John. (Statira also had a cousin named John Quincy Adams Stephens.)
26 Collins notes in the Annals for 1855 that stock was selling "at very low prices . . . from want of corn and provender, and high prices for what little is for sale, the effect of the great drought last summer." Collins, 1: 74.
27 From Hymns and Spiritual Songs by Isaac Watts (1674-1748). The text of the popular hymn, which inspired many sermons, can be found at Project Gutenburg.
28 See below, 26 Mar 1855 to "My Very Dear Niece."
29 Until 1863 Americans had to go to the local post office to send or receive mail. In that year Congress authorized home delivery in some cities. Delivery to rural addresses had to wait until the twentieth century. Early Kentucky newspapers are filled with lists of persons who had not collected their mail.
30 Not identified.
31 As related to salvation.
32 Sarah Breckinridge. (See above, 21 Feb 1858.)
33 An increasingly popular activity for those who could afford the expense of a sitting. Daguerreotypes had been introduced about fifteen years before, and by the fifties the collodion or wet plate process was making portraiture widely available.
34 Mary Elizabeth Bristow (1842-1901). Nine years after this letter she married a neighbor, Thomas Jefferson Childress (1836-1908), late a first lieutenant, Jessee's Kentucky Mounted Rifles, CSA, on 10 Feb 1866.
35 Catherine Sanford Bristow (1844-1875) was named for her grandmother, Catherine Sanford Stephens, who had died the year before she was born. Kate was also known as "Bit" for her small physical stature. She didn't wait until after the war to marry her Rebel, William Corlis Respess (1837-1910). (See below, 16 Oct 1861.).
36 John Edmund Bristow (1851-1941). (See below, 6 Mar 1863.)
37 Jane S. Dickerson (1846-1939). She married Robert Chambers (1842?-1929?).
38 Nannie Dickerson (1849-1936). She married Louis C. Norman (1843-1904), later a State Senator and Insurance Commissioner. He was known as Lute.
39 Lucien Bonaparte Dickerson (1845-1934). He was named for an uncle, Volney's younger brother (1822?-1860), an attorney who died young. Although Mary frequently refers to his sisters, this is the only time she mentions Lucien. He married in Boone County, 14 Apr 1870, Mary Stansifer (1843-1916).
40 Gilbert Beebe (1800-1881), founder and editor of Signs of the Times, Mary's favorite newspaper, which had been a national forum for Primitive Baptists since 1832. She continued as a faithful reader until her death. The title of the paper is from Matthew 16: 3.
(See Appendix II for her obituary, which appeared in The Signs.)
A biography of Beebe can be found at The Remnant website.
41 Location not identified.
42 Mary's great aunt Mary Clarkson, her grandfather's unmarried sister, whose will, dated 1 Aug 1822, was probated in Bourbon County April 1825. She left a life interest in her estate to her sister Mourning Clarkson, which then was to pass to the children of her brother Julius. Her nephew Reuben Clarkson was executor. [Bourbon Wills G: 275.] None of Aunt Molly's writings mentioned by Mary survive.
43 (See above, the first entry.)
44 Scrofula, a once-common ailment, caused by Mycobacterium bovis (closely related to the organism causing tuberculosis), affects the lymph glands, usually in the neck. (In early times it was known as the King's Evil, since it was thought that the disease could be cured by the touch of the monarch.) Whether Mary suffered from what we know as scrofula or from some other infection is not clear.
45 Now known as Cruises Creek, the watercourse flows east from Florence, a few miles south of Independence, and into the Licking River. Site of a church under the care of Elder William Hume. In the late 1830s the settlement had rated a Post Office, which was soon absorbed into Independence. (See Robert M. Rennick, Kentucky Place Names, 148.)
46 A younger brother (1772-1846) of her father. Two of his sons (James Hervy and Benjamin Franklin) were also preachers; others went into law and politics, including Congressman Francis Marion Bristow. Mary kept up a lifelong correspondence with Archibald's daughter, Caroline Bristow Ashburn (1810-1894).
47 Not identified.
48 Passages in the Old Testament held to presage the coming as Jesus as the Messiah.