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     In the northeastern portion of Dallas, Tex., between Bryan and Live Oak streets, and fronting the Houston and Texas Central railway, lives Aunt July Cole, who has but recently grown too old to take in washing. The cabin in which she lives is a rude hovel, and yet, it is kept as neat as a pin. It is surrounded by a dozen huts of the same kind, though not so well kept, all huddled together in an irregular colony. The railway people have forced their right of way with barbed wire to keep the horde of pickaninnies off the track, but in vain. They crawl through the fangs of the fence and gather upon the road in such numbers that the cautious engineer finds it necessary, on passing through Freedmantown, to use both bell and whistle.
     After the train had passed the other day, the Republic man crawled through the wire fence, and with difficulty, found the cabin of the "Ole Furginny Aunty." She sat in a low chair and smoked a blue clay pipe. As she raised her face slowly and her wrinkled features were first seen, the writer involuntarily asked himself: "Is it alive?" When she spoke, her tremulous and cracked voice increased his astonishment. But, it was not only alive, but it smoked and talked.
     "My name is July Cole," she said. "I belonged to Col. Cole in Furginny, and he fit de Britishers wid Gen. Washington. Norfolk was my home, sir; right on de sea. My mammy come from de Cape in Afriky, and my daddy went back dere. My mammy was named Lucretia, and was give to Col. Cole by Gen. Washington's lady, who had many servants. I was brought to Henry county, Tennessee, and sold to Thomas Waters. I had great-grandchildren den. After I helped to settle Tennessee, I was sold to William Rabb for lan'. Mars Jef come to take me home to Tennessee, but ole man Rabb wouldn't let me go wid him. Den I lived on Rabb's Creek, below La Grange, Tex. I was took away from my husband two chillun in Tennessee, and my ole man, he run away and followed me till dey caught him wid dogs right on de banks of de Mississippi river. Yes, sir, right dar in de bed of de river, whar de hill is and de high trees, and right down by de boat in de dark--fur he was runnin' to git on de boat wid me. But dey caught 'im and I never saw 'im any more."
     On being asked her age, the old woman began to rise slowly, holding, in the meantime, to the chair for support.
     "I doesn't know by de figgers, but I knows by happenin's," she said. She moved to an old trunk, which was covered with rawhide with the hair on and tacked with big headed brass tacks. From this, she drew an old letter on blue paper, which she says was "de paper" given to Mars Waters by Mars Cole when she was sold. Only the lower half of the sheet remains, the other having evidently been taken off by time, and the only legible portion of the writing purports to give the date of Aunt July's birth. The only words are "was born Dec. 19, 1745."
     The writer had heard that she was 145 years old, but, of course, he believed nothing of the kind. The appearance of the old negro and the evidence produced by her to prove her age were astonishing.
     "Dey says I is er hundred and forty-five year ole, an', honey, I spec' it is so."
     "What is your earliest remembrance, aunty? Do you remember Gen. Washington?"
     "I never seed him," she said, "but I knows when he was general, and I knows when he was president, too. I heerd Mars Cole say when de tea was flung outen de Boston ship. I has seed de Tories, an' my brother was wid Mars Cole when he went into de war wid de Britishers. Dat war was seven years, and Mars Cole, he got shot in de arm. I 'members when dey fit de French an' Injuns, too, sir."
     It took quite a while to get all this out of the aged creature, who is very feeble. She had only one want--smoking tobacco--and that was supplied, after which the writer left her at her low, hairy trunk putting away her documents. -- Cor[respondent], St. Louis Republic.

     Probably one of the oldest persons in America is Aunt Julia Cole, colored, of this city, who resides with her daughter, Minerva Haynes, near the corner of Burford and Flora streets. Often interviewed, a talk with her is, nevertheless, always interesting.
     She first saw the light at Norfolk, Va., in 1745, and is, therefore, 145 years old, and although, outside of some of the symptoms of a mummy, she does not look a day over 70. She is as brisk as a bee, does light work about the house, and is intensely religious, so much so, that she believes she holds communion with the other world. To a NEWS reporter yesterday, who took occasion to compliment her on her 145th birthday and her general good health, she said:
     "Well, I feels well, but I won't object when the time comes for me to go to that home above the skies, where folks has to pay no rent. If I could leave this little old body here, I would go home. I hear the angels near me all the time."
     "What color are the angels, auntie?"
     The little old woman, in a mixture of astonishment and indignation, answered:
     "Why, white, of course, and they has such pretty little wings. When they come to me, I'se so happy, so happy."
     "What is your religion, auntie?"
     "Oh, thank God, I'se a Baptist, I'se a Baptist. I had nobody to lead me but Christ, and he is the best recommend that I can give," saying which, the poor old soul reeled off a few stanzas of a familiar old Baptist hymn, and then, by request, proceeded with her history. "I has before often tole the newspapers I was born in Norfolk, 145 years ago. My master, Col. Cole, fought under Mr. Washington, and he never came home until the close of the war."
     "Then, you have seen George Washington?"
     "I never saw him, but Col. Cole told us all about him. Oh, I remembers it so well. He used to tell us how the niggers whipped the British. You want to know all about me, you says. I was first married to Ned Taplin -- I was a mighty nice girl, too, then -- by whom I had one chile. I was some time after, separated from my hesband and chile. I was taken to Tennessee and swapped for land by the party who bought me, whose name I do not know. I never since heard of my hesband or chile. I was married to another hesband, named Nelson Haynes. Don't know when I married him, kase it was not sot down in the Bible. I had three children by this hesband. From Tennessee, William Ross brought me to Texas and traded me off for land on Barton creek, near Austin. That was about 40 years ago. I never saw my Tennessee hesband and two of the children again; the third chile, daughter, I am now living with. In Texas, I was owned by Mr. Rabb, and was married to Abraham Payne, who fit the Mexicans."
     "Where did your folks come from?"
     "My grandfather came from Africa, bringing with him, his children, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Lucretia. Lucretia was my mother, and my father, also, I understand, was of African consent."
     "When did you leave Barton's springs?"
     "Last christmas."
     "How do you know that you are 145 years old?"
     "It is sot down in the Bible. You heard of Oscar Moore, the wonderful negro chile that could tell everything. In Capt. Millett's opera house at Austin, he said: 'How do you do, granny,' and he tole me I was 144 years ole. Austin folk, they just investigated it, and they found my age sot down in the Bible, and it was jes so. I knew afore, it was jes so.".

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...
FORT WORTH, Tex., April 26.

     Some time ago, there was an interesting account in the local columns of THE NEWS, of Aunt Julia Cole, who claims to be 145 years old. If what Aunt Julia says is true, and, of course, no one doubts it, there is no reason why old maids of forty or fifty summers should not take hope. It seems that Aunt Julia was susceptible to the words of love at a very ripe age. According to her statement, she came to Texas forty years ago, and soon after her arrival, married a man by the name of Payne. Consequently, Aunt Julia married at the age of 105, and it is believed that the Christian era cannot show another case of courtship and marriage at such an age.

...
     Julia Cole, colored, called at THE NEWS office yesterday to please state that her 146th birthday will occur next month.
...

     "Julia Cole" is listed in the 1891-92 Dallas city directory2 as residing at 363 North Central ave, at its intersection with San Jacinto. The house, according to the 1905 Sanborn fire insurance map of Dallas, was located on the west side of N. Central, approximately 300 feet north of Central's intersection with San Jacinto.

     The TIMES-HERALD had an interesting visit this afternoon from Julie Cole, colored, who lives at the corner of San Jacinto and Central avenues.
     It was the hour for the telegraph report, the wires were down and the devil was calling for copy.
     Aunt Julie remarked that she was "just looking around and hoped there was no harm in it."
     She was assured of a welcome, and then she remarked with tone of much pride in her voice, that she "was the mother of the United States."
     Upon being asked to "tell us about it," she proceeded:
     "Well, George Washington was fighting the British, and didn't have enough men of your kind and called on the niggers. Massa says he never saw anybody fight like them niggers. They was all about to starve, and had to eat dog. George asked, 'Well, boys, what have you got for dinner, and they told him they had killed his dog. There was lots of Indians about then, but they wouldn't help fight, they ran away. My master was Col. Cole, (not one of these Coles). Col. Cole raised me in old Virginia, and I waited on my mistress while he was away from home fighting the British. I can see it just the same as if it occurred yesterday, and I have my third set of teeth. I have to beg now, and I hope there ain't no harm in that. I am going to go to the World's Fair."
     "How old are you?"
     "One hundred and twenty-nine," she responded quickly, "but I didn't bring the card with me."
     She claims to have a card certifying to her age. She is sprightly, but naturally a little weak-minded.
     All the old residents know of Aunt Julie Cole, but many others have no idea that one of George Washington's "nurses" lives in our midst.

     Dignity on an inverted mackerel keg in front of a grocery store, looking out on the great Dallasian world from beneath the flap of a sunbonnet, does not imply an utter dependence on the beneficence of a proverbially cold public. On the contrary, it was an autocrat of a very old regime, who enthroned on the Democratic keg, regarded the efforts of the present prosaic civilization with the contempt of an F. F. V. in the days of Thackeray's Virginians. She eats in the sunlight, her headgear resembling a wigwam of her "old Varginny," from which a wreath of smoke naturally ascended. After a few preliminaries, which did not interrupt the habit made classic by the encouragement of the renown Raleigh, she introduced herself with an impressiveness born of the pride of ancestry." the pause that followed left the same impression as the little interim allowed after the introduction of a high priced lecturer. "Lord, honey, Ise bin here," including the entire world with a majestic sweep of her short-stemmed pipe, "150 years last Christmas. Perhaps yere will find it in ther histories." Seeing the expression of awe that was stealing over her listener's visage, as of one who knoweth that truth is often stranger than fiction, she was emboldened to launch forth vigorously into the opening chapters of her biography. One though of all of the old folks they had ever heard of outside of the contemporaries of Noah and Methuselah, and felt convinced of the fact that Dallas not only possessed the oldest person in this country, but in any other. "I remember when my ole marster, Col. Cole, and Gen. Washington went out on the water ter meet de British. That was in Norfolk, Varginny," and she glanced contemptuously at the street cars, telephone wires and the big sleeves of a lady who was passing. "The country ware full of Spanish, whitefolks, injuns, niggers and wild men in dem days." Upon inquiring the nature of the wild man of "those days," she replied with a positiveness that would have convinced a hard-headed anthropologist, "they ware kivered with har and wild, sho' nuff." Col. Cole and Gen. Washington "druv ther injuns outen ther country and they hev kept on runnin' ever since, nasty things!" The chief occupation, for sometime, of "Col. Cole and Gen. Washington," as reported by "Aunt Julie," was "goin' around and settlin' states." She remembers when they laid the corner stones of Alabama, Mississippi, "Fluridy" and Tennessee, and always "druv stobs down" to mark the boundaries of the territories that were intended for "ther chillun, an' Lord, they hev got land, clean here ter Texas." The darkey who considers himself especially up to the requirements of the great and glorious Fourth, who is an adept in the selection of watermelons and can tell by the tint, the value of the annual red lemonade, will find his pretentions small indeed when contrasted with "Aunt Julie Cole," for she says that she can remember with the distinctness "of yesterday," the 4th of July, 1776. In the course of her reminiscences, "Aunt Julie" casually remarked, looking closely the while to see if she was imparting news, that Columbus "hed discovered Americky, a while 'fore Col. Cole and Gen. Washington" astonished the British powers, a fact, however, that seemed of small moment in comparison with the exploits of her two beloved heroes. She seemed to hold particularly in remembrance, the "old Varginny" towns by the streams and sea and thought a toll bridge an acquisition that could have only been brought to perfection in the "good old days." "They ware towns, to be sho,' none of yer ole dry lan' places like Dallas." Whether "Col. Cole and Gen. Washington" were progressive enough to be personally interested in the "tolls," their faithful Boswell failed to relate.  The social life of the long ago is also a sealed book in the joint memoirs of "Col. Cole and Gen. Washington," as given by "Aunt Julie." Arlington and Mount Vernon, Greenaway Court and Westover are unknown to this prenational old woman, but the wigwams and log houses can be topographically located, and there were no balls, picnics or dinners in those days, as historians have led us to believe, for "Aunt Julie," says, "ther country ware civilized in those days, and didn't have none such carryings on," but, "as ther states grows older, they gits wilder," and the old woman got down off of her perch, knocked the ashes from her pipe, and put it into her pocket preparatory to her retirement to her residence in Stringtown.
     On complimenting her upon her youthful appearance and ability to get about, she truthfully remarked that "ther Lord's ways air not ours," and added that she expected to remain among the living for the purpose of relating history, no doubt, after the fashion of the wandering minstrels, only "Aunt Julie" has the advantage of not taking her notes second hand. "Lor' honey," she exclaimed, as she briskly moved away, "I was raised by ther best folks in ther land, ther Coles, friends of Gen. Washington, at Norfolk in ole Varginny. They ware sho' nuff white folks in dem days, not like dese here yer sees now."
                                               VIRGINIA QUITMAN-GOFFE.

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     Aunt Julia Cole, colored, who claims to be 150 years old, attended Rev. "Sin Killer" Griffin's gospel meeting last Sunday night and got religion. After the congregation was dismissed, she said it was the largest gathering of whites and blacks she had ever seen. "A hundred years ago," she proceeded to Round About, "we had no such preaching, and no such preachers. I feel good, I tell you, and I am ready to go." Between the preaching and the sunset of life, the old woman seemed to have brightened up. Sin Killer gave her quite a donation of money, and said that if he was not pressed for a payment on his tent, he would have given her all the cash he had on hand.

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     Four inches of snow fell in Dallas Wednesday afternoon and evening. The ground was frozen and it all stuck, making excellent snowballing and sleighing. The streets and roads were full of sleighs of every description, from a goods box mounted on two pieces of inch plank for runners, up to the regulation cutter. But, the most common was that of buggies divested of the wheels, and the spindles put through plank runners and bolted.

     There was a rumor in circulation this morning that a coal famine was threatening the city. An investigation shows that the continued cold weather has made a steady demand for coal, so that there is no accumulation of that fuel in the city, as there usually is between cold snaps; but Col. Traylor says he does not believe there is any danger of a famine, unless the present weather should continue indefinitely, which is hardly probable.

     There was an old settlers' impromptu meeting in an East Dallas grocery store last night.
     The grocer remarked: "This is the worst weather and deepest snow I've seen in Texas."
     "You must be a new comer, then, for this is really not winter, at all, compared to what we used to have," remarked Lige Wheatley, an old man, who came here in the '50s.
     "I think it was in '52, we had a four-foot snow in October, which remained in effect until May, and there were not 200 persons seen on the streets all winter, it was so cold."
     "I remember," said Green Sage, of Cedar Hill, of abnormal weather memory, "that it was so cold that the water froze in the wells, and one night, in particular, that I shall never forget, a red-hot stove froze and continued red until the next spring."
     Erastus Frost, an old negro over in the corner, nestling close to the fire to keep the whisky from freezing in him, here chipped in: "I don't know the figure names of the years, but I recollects one winter here in Texas, when it was so cold that the clouds just froze over in the sky, like ice freezes on the water, and just stayed blocked up until sometime the next year, keeping the sun from shining through and stopping the snow and rain on top of it, and there was a terrible lot of it. You talk about your hail storms and the like of that, why, none of them that I hear folks talking about are in it, when those frozen clouds, with their bank of snow began to thaw and crack and fall."
    > Julia Cole, aged 162, here, dropped in and said: "Law, childern; you all don't know what you are talking about. You never saw no cold weather. I remembers when I lived on the borders of the Sahara desert in Africa, we had a twenty-seven-foot snow, and I waded through that snow to the river Nile and skated down that river on roller skates with Mars George Washington and Col. Cole, the time they discovered the source of the Nile in a couple of springs. And, that winter at Valley Forge was a cold one, and Mars George Washington and Col. Cole kept their soldiers on ice that winter, which I heard Col. Cole say was the only way they could carry them through the winter, as they had nothing for them to eat."
     "Here is a man," said Green Sage, referring to George Snowball, "who has been to the north pole, and I guess has seen its cold night, eh George?"
     "No, I am bound to say, I was disappointed.  Instead of mountains of snow and ice and incredibly low temperature, we found a tropical climate, with the most rank vegetation, gorgeous flowers and fruit, birds of rare plumage and melody, and all the beasts of the torrid zone."

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     Aunt Julia Thompson, colored, who claimed her age to be 159 years, died last night from old age. Her body was shipped to Sayersville, [Bastrop County], Texas, for burial, by Loudermilk & Miller, undertakers.
     "Aunt Julie," as she was familiarly known, has been "written up" several times in the columns of the TIMES HERALD. She claimed to be a Virginian by birth and to possess a clear recollection, to use her own way of expressing, "of the time when Col. Cole and Gin'ral George Washington fit agin and licked the Britishers," and how "the folks come way out West from ole Virginny, driving down stops in the ground to remember the way."

     It was with tearful regret that the TIMES HERALD, yesterday, received a written notice of the death of one of Dallas' oldest institutions, "Aunt Julie Cole." As Aunt Julie, among her many claims during her numerous interviews had never asserted that she was the actual possessor of the elixir of life, although having reached the unusual age of 159 years, while her death was a matter of sorrow, it was not altogether a matter of surprise. The TIMES HERALD felt that it had only done its mournful duty in fully recording the demise of this faithful old servant of "Colonel Cole, the friend of Gin'ral George Washington."
     This morning, as a TIMES HERALD reporter started out, and had almost reached the City Hall, Akard street corner, where the most unusual collisions and surprises should be anticipated, the reporters's blood suddenly began to freeze and the hair on the head to rise in the most approved Shakespearean manner; for standing before the reporter was what appeared to be the ghost of Aunt Julie Cole, that had just turned the corner, carrying a copy of the TIMES HERALD. The spirit came along with all the old youth and vivacity of Aunt Julie Cole's one hundred and fifty-nine summers. It was also an indignant ghost, for it did not stop until it had reached the editorial room, where it fully materialized into the genuine Aunt Julie in the flesh.
     Aunt Julie was indignant that she, one of the first settlers of Virginia, who had personally known "Colonel Cole and Gin'ral Washington," should be confused with some common darkey, with whom she was not upon visiting terms. The old woman also felt very much hurt that anyone should believe her capable of dying at the age of 159 years, and hopes that the new of her still being in the land of the living will reach everyone.
     The woman who died was Aunt Julie Thompson, aged 96 years, and who resided at the corner of Convent and Adair streets, in this city, and, while having more than attained the allotted three score years and ten, yet had not the many claims to historical and aristocratic distinction possessed by Aunt Julie Cole, "the servant of Colonel Cole, friend of Gin'ral Washington."

     Julie Cole, whose birth antedates this republic, was on the streets yesterday, lively as a cricket and slightly indignant at a rumor that she had joined the heavenly choir.  Meeting Round About at the corner of Main and Ervay, she said: "People have reported that I am dead, but bless the good Lord, I feel about as well as ever. I'se seen George Washington and old Col. Cole, my massa, pass away, and I 'specs I'se now traveling right along with their seventh generation or thereabouts, and I'se not dead yet. People turn my old age up from 110 to 150 years. I guess I'se somewhere betwixt and between. I knows that I was a little girl, maybe 8 years old, when Col. Cole, my massa, went to fight the British with Gen. George Washington. That would make me about what age?"
     "That would make you 126 years old if Col. Cole went to the front when the war broke out."
     "I guess he did. Anyway, my kerrect age is in the Bible. I know when I was a chile, the folks in Virginy used to talk a great deal about the red Injins. I was born on de ole plantation below Washington, near de Chesapeake."
     Aunt Julie looks as if she might live a score more of years. Although, almost as dried up as a mummy, her sight and hearing are good, her step is as elastic as that of a woman of 50, and her memory is good, but confused as to dates.
...

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     The Registrar's office closed yesterday evening, 7336 voters registering against 6753 last fall, and against 7450 two years ago.
L. Philipson was the first man to register and John Gallaher was the last. The oldest man was 120 years of age, and several youths were 21 on the day they registered.
     A large number of men could not tell the name of the street they lived on, nor the ward in which they voted, although they had lived for years in the same house. Quite a number did not know their full names, nor how old they were. Much other curious information was developed by the registration system.

   > P. S. -- Since Aunt Julia Cole has concluded not to die this spring, it may be that a matrimonial deal can be arranged between her and the 120-year-old man above referred to; that is, if Aunt Julia does not object to a husband some forty years her junior, Aunt Julia being 160 years old. However, the TIMES HERALD is not running a matrimonial bureau.

     "Aunt Julie" Cole, the old colored woman, who is one of the best known human landmarks in Dallas. Just how old she really is, no one seems to know, but it is generally conceded that she has seen some 100 summers come and go since the day of her birth. When met yesterday, she was standing on the edge of the sidewalk staring vacantly down the street, and when accosted, she started, turned slowly and gazed at the speaker in a curious manner. It was fully a minute before she recognized him. When she did, she bowed low in a formal manner and said:
     "Why, it's de young massa! How is you to-day, honey?"
     After being assured that "young massa" was in the best of health and spirits, she asked:
     "What is you goin' to give me on my next birthday? Didn't know I ever had birthdays any more, eh? Well, I has. I has one every year, some time in June, and next June I'll be 500 years old. Yes, sah, 500 years old."
     Promised that she would receive a handsome present on the coming anniversary of her birth, in a childish sort of manner she proceeded to give the Lounger her authority for the statement that she would soon be half a thousand years old. It seems that she had gone to some gentleman in this city and asked him to calculate as near as possible her exact age. Aunt Julie said she gave him the "figgers on it," and that after "puckerin'" up his face over them for "bout hab" an hour he tole me I would be 500 years old some time next June, and then he busted out a laffin'." From this, it is safe to judge that Aunt Julie got her information "straight."
     Further questioning elicited that she had been an intimate acquaintance of Christopher Columbus, because he was "the white gemman what discovered the red man." She kept up this acquaintance until he took his departure. Coming on down the corridors of time, she affirmed (and reliable authority bears her out in the statement) that she had seen Gen. George Washington on several occasions, that his hair wasn't white like it was in the pictures, but was "as black as a nigger's face," and that he was a mighty fine man." She also claimed to have known Andrew Jackson and several others of equal fame. The names of Gen. Lee, Albert Sidney Johnston, Gen. Grant and other famous men, were mentioned to her, but she said that although she had "heered a heep on 'em" she had never seen one of them. After giving the old woman a little bit of candy, for which he received effusive thanks, the pencil-shover moved on.
     In stature, Aunt Julie is about four feet high, her face is wrinkled and worn by the hands of time, and the skin is stretched so tightly over the bones in the hands that they look more like the claws of some wild animal, than portions of the human structure. But, in spite of all this, she is exceedingly lively for one of her years. She can be seen on the principal business streets of the city any pleasant day, loitering along on the shady side in warm weather, and on the sunny side in winter time, gazing with childish curiosity at the goods displayed in the show windows. Some charitably-inclined people keep her supplied with food, and it is said she is furnished a small house in East Dallas free of rent by another one of her benefactors. She always wears an old faded sun bonnet, and although she occasionally carries a cane, she rarely ever uses it.

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     The 1900 Dallas County federal census shows a widowed "Jullia" Cole, black female, living in the Mary E. Verschoyle household, at 290 S. Harwood -- her relationship to Mary being "servant." Julia's age is given as 100, and being born in May 1800, with her place of birth given as "unknown." Her parent's places of birth are also listed as "unknown." Eight children were born to Julia, and two were still living when the census was taken. She could not read or write.1

     Julia's daughter (per article transcribed herein), Menerva (sic) Haynes, black female, age 40, and born February 1860 in Louisiana, was also living in the household as a servant. She was widowed, 3 children born, two of which were still living. Her father was born in Georgia, her mother, in Alabama, and she, too, could not read or write.1

     Julia is listed in the 1901 Dallas city directory as boarding at 236 Park. Her daughter, Minerva Haynes, is also listed as residing at 236 Park, her occupation listed as a "domestic."3

     Minerva is not listed in the 1910 Worley's Dallas city directory.

     Julia Cole, one of the best known negresses in Dallas, is dead at her home on Marilla street. Her death occurred last night.
     Considerable doubt exists as to her exact age. "Aunt Julia," as she was called, stated it variously. Sometimes she said she was 110 years of age, and sometimes she stretched it to a century and a half. Her relatives, who are said to include several great-great grandchildren, are of the belief that she was 97 years of age. If this be true, she lacked just three years of having existed for a century, and it is no wonder that the physician's certificate gives "old age" as the cause of her end.
     It has not been so long, however, since "Aunt Julia" walked many a mile every day. She was known to many white people here, the elder element of whom, averred that she had served her master faithfully during slavery times; had assisted him as best she could, both during and after, the war between the States, and had all her life, so conducted herself, as to command the respect of the "white folks," as she called them.
     "Aunt Julia" was proud of her age. She was born in Norfolk, Va., and often said that she had seen Gen. Washington.
     "Did you ever meet Christopher Columbus, Aunty?" she was asked one day.
     "Many times, massa -- many times. He useter come to de place to see ole massa."

     On McKinney avenue, just beyond the city limits, a frame cottage was burned last night about 9 o'clock. An alarm from box 426 was turned in. The house had been vacant since the death of Julia Cole, an aged negress, and a well-known character in that part of the city, and is the property of her former master, Jack Cole.

     John H. Cole, one of the oldest and most respected citizens of Dallas county, died at his home, 835 McKinney avenue, at 11 o'clock this morning. The funeral will be held tomorrow afternoon from the residence, and interment will be in Greenwood cemetery. The names of the pallbearers and other arrangements have not yet been concluded.

Native of Tennessee.
     John H. Cole was born in Robertson county, Tennessee, in January, 1827. He was the fifth of ten children born to John and Mary Cole, both natives of Virginia. The father moved to Tennessee in an early day, where he was a farmer and physician. He was one of the early practitioners of Dallas county, and in 1829, went to Arkansas, settling in Washington county, where h e improved a farm, and in 1843, returned to Dallas county. He took up a claim of 640 acres, now a part of the city of Dallas. He took an active interest in politics and also in the early history of the county, being the first probate judge of the county.

Was First County Surveyor.
     He was reared in farm life and educated in the disctrict schools of Washington county, Arkansas, and in Fayetteville academy. He was seventeen years of age when he came to Dallas, and for many years, followed surveying, being the first county surveyor of the county. In 1858, he moved to the farm on which he lived many years and erected a fine brick residence, which was, for years, the pride of the community. At one time, he owned over five thousand acres of land. In 1862, he enlisted in Captain William McKamy's regiment in the state service, and later received a position in the supply department, where he remained until the close of the war.
     He was not only Dallas county's first probate judge and first surveyor, but also its first notary public. He was married in Dallas county in 1856 to Elizabeth Preston, a native of Tennessee, and a granddaughter of Captain George Preston, an earlier pioneer of Tennessee and a soldier in the Creek war. Of this union, there were seven children: George C., John D., Miss Cora A., Miss Anna, Mrs. Maggie Miers, wife of R . W. Miers; Walter, and Mrs. Hester Gillespie, wife of Dr. A. C. Gillespie. Children who survive him are: John D., Miss Cora A., Mrs. Miers and Mrs. Gillespie.

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