Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

78
ANNALS OF OUR ANCESTORS
In the morning we had scalded the sour milk instead of
feeding it to the pigs, and when it was properly drained and
salted a bowl of cream was added, and this cottage cheese was
placed in a three or four-gallon stone jar and nicely covered.
Then apples were gathered and such garden stuff as might be
acceptable, and as soon as dinner was over Rock was in the
harness and ready to take mother and her load of love to
different homes in Carthage where her gifts would be welcome.
I visited the old church at Carthage after my head was white,
and I found that our mother's memory was as fragrant as the
memory of Dorcas, being remembered for the almsdeeds which
she had done twenty-five years before.
I can easily recall many instances of the unassuming
benevolence of our parents. One hot day in July, 1850, father
came in from the field and declared his intention to go down
to Carthage to make some needed purchases and get the mail.
On his return he called mother in to hear a letter read from one
of their friends who lived in Cincinnati, and who through heat
and overwork was languishing amid the close and stifling brick
walls. In the letter he told father of his suffering condition
and said he felt sure that if he could be taken to the country,
out on the Vine Street Hill, and breathe the sweet, pure air
from the clover fields, he would soon be well. As soon as
preparations could be made, father took the white covered
market wagon and one of mother's feather beds with plenty
of pillows and quilts and started for the city. Into this wagon,
specially prepared for him, our invalid. Dr. Gatchell, was care-
fully placed.
I remember their arrival, as they drove into the yard under
the spreading walnut tree, and how pale and thin the sick
man looked. Mother gave him her large, cool, front room,
shaded by porches and many trees. Here he was to find the
products of the farm — butter, milk and cream, with apples
and peaches and new corn and beans. His wife was with
him, a lovely lady whose father was one of the early pioneers
of our church in Cincinnati, Thurston Crane. Truly the doctor
knew the proper remedy for himself, as in a few days he