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All things, both good and bad, must end, and the itinerant wheel has made one more turn. We stayed at West Elizabeth but one year, Mr. Eaton having accomplished what he was sent there to do, and the charge not being strong enough to support a family of our size.
Conference met at Connellsville, and we were sent to Georgetown.
My husband was away three weeks this time, having business in Virginia which would take some time to settle. In the first year of our married life we had bought a hundred acres of land in Virginia, on the waters of Sanca Creek, which we leased to a man who was to clear it and pay the taxes for the use of the land, building his own cabin. This man had been on the land for a number of years, and now wished to buy it, this being the business which took my husband to Virginia. He sold pretty well; we had paid two hundred dollars for it, and sold it for, I think, eight hundred and fifty dollars, it having cost us nothing in the meantime.
Business finished, Mr. Eaton went on to Conference. Lee was not well when his father left, but we thought it nothing serious. However, he grew steadily worse, until he developed what the doctor termed 11 catarrhal fever". For three weeks I did not go to bed, and all the rest I had was when I threw myself across the foot of his bed for a few minutes when he was easy. When he was not delirious he was too nervous to allow anyone in the room needing constant attention; there were cold packs to be kept on his head, poultices to be changed, and often I lifted him in and out of bed every five or ten minutes for hours, at a time when he was so weak that he scarcely seemed to breathe. To make matters worse the time had come for us to give up the house to the new preacher, and when Lee's illness was at Its worst I received notice to vacate at a certain date or I would be put out. I was there alone with four small children, one of them ill. Upon my applying to the Official Board, however, they reassured me, saying there was always provision made for sickness.
Time passed, and the glad day came that brought my husband to me. Oh, the relief! Have you ever watched with the sick night after night, everything still and dark, no one with you save your sleeping children, going out at intervals through the night to get a breath of fresh air and looking up at the stars feel that awful sense of loneliness that cannot be described - a world full of people and you as much alone as though you were the only living being? If you have then you can realize something of what I felt when relief came.
Lee was out of danger when his father came home, and though it was quite awhile before he was able to be moved, and when we did move him he had to be carried on and off the boat, looking more dead than alive.
Notwithstanding all our troubles, we had enjoyed our stay at West Elizabeth very much, and it was with a great deal of regret that we bade good-bye to our new church and our many dear friends, and took the boat for our new field of labor. On Mr. Eaton's way from Conference he had stopped at Georgetown and rented a house. Our goods landed when we did and we stayed the first night with Brother Calhoun and his daughter who proved to be very substantial friends. The following day we had our goods put in the house and we were not long in getting settled, for which we were glad, all being pretty well worn out.
Georgetown was rather a pretty little town on the bank of the Ohio River. The buildings were scattered promiscuously, with not much attention paid to streets, there being as much commons as occupied ground, on which pigs, cows, horses and dogs roamed at will. The population of the town was made up largely of rivermen - steamboat captains and pilots who were away from home the greater part of the time. They had plenty of money and fine, well-furnished homes and I think almost without exception were Methodists. The church was not up to the times nor equal to the wealth of the people-, it was a plain wooden structure, standing on the commons and very much out of repair, but as it always fell to our lot to build or repair, it would have seemed strange to go to a place where this was not to be done.
We were pleasantly situated, having a good garden, or the half of a garden. Old Lady Poe, the mother of the man from whom we rented, had a half interest in the property, and one half of the garden belonged to her. It was a large lot, there being sufficient ground to give us potatoes, corn, beans, tomatoes, and all smaller vegetables. The old lady was very kind. She had a fine bed of asparagus, which she allowed us to pick every other time. Hers was an old fashioned garden, containing all kinds of herbs such as tansy, rue, sage, thyme, summer savory, coriander, and wormwood; old fashioned flowers, such as bachelor's buttons, ragged Robins, bouncy Betty, bleeding hearts, blue bells, Lady-in-the-bush, spider-in-the-web, mourning bride, and many others. The flower beds were all bordered with chives, in flavor resembling an onion, the tops of which I sometimes used for flavoring gravies.
Mother Poe was a bright old lady, in her eighties, and the mother of a large family, mostly boys. They were among the earliest settlers of this country, a stalwart muscular race, well adapted to scuffling with the Indians. One of their family killed an Indian warrior single-handed, and they were proud of showing the place where the fight occurred, and the cliff of rock over which he threw the Indian. It occurred at the lower end of Georgetown. It was worth a good deal to hear the old lady tell of their early life among the savages, of hardy adventures and narrow escapes.
This was the first year of the war and it was a pretty sight to see the fleet go down the river, the decks crowded with soldiers. They were lustily cheered from the banks of the river, which were lined with men, women, and children, and the cheers were answered from the boats with double energy. It was fun for them then, poor fellows-, they little dreamed of what was before them. Several of our Georgetown boys went, among them two sons of the widow Mahaffy, and her only visible support, yet she was proud of the fact. They wrote her such good letters; they were with McDowell, with whom they were not well pleased, and we thought at that time he drank too much for the comfort of the boys or the good of the country. I think the Mahaffy boys came through the war safely. Alas, how many did not!
The most important occurence so far this year was the arrival of another member of our family - a fine boy. It was quite an event, as our baby was five years old. We called him Charles Homer.
We had to move this spring, but only the distance of one block. In our new location we had a larger lot, containing quite a few fruit trees - plums, peaches and apples, and as we did not take kindly to public picnics it was a fine place to have private picnics for our children. The house was very comfortable consisting of four rooms and rather a large kitchen, with a portico in front and a back porch.
We had five appointments on this charge: Georgetown, Hookstown, Jones, New Cumberland and Green Valley. Mr. Eaton had an assistant, Reverend Shearer the first year, Reverend Beatty the second. Dr. Demsey was our Presiding Elder for the third year, and it fell to our lot to entertain him, which we did cheerfully. He was so hard to suit about his meals that no one cared to have him, but after having him in my home at different times for three years, I had found him to be little trouble - I cooked for him as I did for anyone else, except that I always managed to have stale bread for him of which he was fond. He was never cross, but had no use for children, especially in church, and would not hesitate to say, if a baby cried, "Sister, take that child out." This was one reason the Sisters did not like him. But it was my experience, after knowing him four years, that I very much preferred to entertain Mr. Demsey, with all his queerness, than some others who came to our house who were nearer perfection than he. He was a dignified gentleman, only a little cross-grained.
This summer was a gloomy one, on account of an epidemic of the worst type of diphtheria, which raged throughout July and August. The doctors seemed powerless and I heard our doctor say that he dreaded to be called. In nearly every family it entered, death took from one to three. and in the family of one of our church members, Brother Jamison, it took six out of a family of seven; two were buried in one grave. In connection with this double funeral there was a very sad occurrence. We had no undertaker; the friends made all the necessary arrangements, and one of our class leaders, Mr. Cooly, spent his time going among the sick, and caring for the dead. He was at Brother Jamison's when the boys died. Mr. Eaton was not at home, it being Sunday, when he was at the other end of the charge, but Brother Cooly left word about the funeral, and said he was going across the river to order the caskets, saying, "I will be back for church tonight." He crossed the river, attended to the business, and started to recross, but in some way or other his skiff was capsized, and it was found the next day bottom side up. Every means was taken to recover his body, but without success, and it was not until five months later that it was found at Steubenville.
It was a wonder that the diphtheria mortality was not much greater. We had no quarantine - no restrictions whatever-, the funerals were attended by anyone who cared to go-, everyone visited the sick, and worst of all, the doctors did not know how to treat the disease. The most effectual treatment they had for it was cauterizing the throat, but the disease did not confine itself to the throat, especially if there was a cut or scratch about the body. My husband was among it day and night, visiting the sorrowing and consoling them as best he could, baptizing and burying the dead. Our children were necessarily exposed to the danger, but the Pastor, not matter what the circumstances, must be about the Master's business, in season and out of season. However, through a merciful Providence, our family escaped entirely, but I cannot describe the anxiety, amounting to anguish, which I endured, not knowing at what moment some of my children might be, attacked, and had I not relied on the Almighty One for support I could not have endured it.
In February of this year, Father Eaton, after a short illness, passed into the Beyond. He was a grand old patriarch, eighty-three years old. None of our family went home except my husband, as it was a bad time of the year to travel; he had to ride across the country.
At a meeting Mr. Eaton held this year Lee was converted, and he and the two girls joined the church. Katie had had her fifth birthday some time before this, and at that time she had told her father she wished to join the church. He, thinking her too young, had entered her name on his private book, where it remained until she was called up higher. She died in her twelfth year, a mature Christian.
In Georgetown we formed many warm friendships, especially at the Jones appointment. In these days of many preaching places, which were far apart, the people went from one point to another, and the preacher's family became pretty well acquainted with the people of the charge, often forming warm attachments and receiving many favors. My husband seldom came home without something substantial for the use of his family. Here I received two nice quilts. These were the days when we had to knit or do without stockings, but I seldom had to knit, as the old ladies of the church kept Mr. Eaton well supplied; this was quite an item, and aside from the material value of these gifts we appreciated the spirit which prompted these dear old saints, laid aside from active service, who felt that they could in this way do something for the Master; and I doubt not that while plying the needles many a prayer ascended that God heard and honored.
NOTE: The Rev. Isaac Eaton and family are
buried in the church yard at Acertown just over the Beaver County
Line, near East Palestine, Ohio.