Written beginning on September 15, 1930 italicized print indicates additions made by transcriber, original spelling not corrected. Contributed by Deborah Roig.

My father, William Bear Johnston, was the son of George Johnston, I think his name was, and Elizabeth Caulfield, she being the daughter of the Earl of Charlemont, from Castle Dawson near Londonderry, Ireland. I think my grandfather and mother must have been married in the year 1818 or 1819, as my father was the oldest child. He being born on the ocean. (Aunt Sue, Sarah Hurt Clifton, said it was Henry that was born on the ocean.) His parents, with other brothers and their families, were driven out of Ireland during the bread riots. I do not know the year but suppose it must have been in 1820 as my father was born that year. (William was born in Derry, Ireland, 1820 and Henry in 1822 on the ship to America.) I have been told that the Johnstons in Ireland spelled their name Johnstone, but dropped the "e" in this country, America. One brother, after they arrived in America in Axstofed (no idea what place name that must be) in New York state, my grandfather with my grandmother and babe, with two of her brothers, perhaps more and perhaps some of her sisters, I do not know about any of the others only, just after the Civil War, my mother and her brother, Sebe Mayes, took me with them to Alabama to visit my father's brother, Henry, and his family. While there, we went to see two old uncles. I remember only one of those homes, where the two old people lived with a daughter named Bessie. A married daughter, with several children, was there at the time spending the summer at home. I forgot her name, but remember cousin Bessie. Their three sons had been killed in the war, at the Battle of Bull Run, I think. I remember some of the Negroes were still there and were making sugar cane molasses and we children sucked the juice from the cane.

My grandfather and grandmother, with their babe, settled in Sumpter County, Alabama. My grandfather, George Johnston, was only seventeen years of age and my grandmother sixteen when they were married, so I have been told. After settling in Alabama, there were six boys born to them- Henry, David, John, or Jack as he was called, and Robert, then twin boys, I do not know their names. When the twins were very young, my grandfather took what was called quick consumption- some called it galloping consumption. Grandfather took a trusty servant and went to Havana, Cuba, for his health. He died and was buried in Havana. The servent, after paying all his expenses, with his master's money that was in Havana, his watch (which was an heirloom handed down from several generations) and clothing, made his way back to Alabama and to his mistress. He could have remained in Cuba and been a free man but he was one of the faithful negroes and came back home.

Soon after my grandfather left, the little twins died and were buried in Alabama. I suppose my grandfather was a man of means as all of his children were well educated. One, Uncle Jack, coming to college in Camilsville (Campbellsville), Kentucky. He was a very fine physician. Uncle Henry married Mary Swilley. Uncle Jack's wife was named Willie but I do not know her maiden name (Mitchel). Uncle Bob married a sister of Uncle Henry's wife, Chick Swilley. I do not know her name (Martha) but the Indians gave her that name and we children called her Aunt Chick, as did Uncle Bob and all. My father had an Aunt Kittie Cavitt (Kitty- Catherine Anne Dunn was married to Josephus Cavitt, her mother was Isabella Caufield - 1797-1865) that had moved with her family to Texas after the boys were grown up and all married, save Uncle David who died an old bachelor. He was in the Civil War but died soon after of some disease contracted in the war.

When my father was twenty-two years of age, in the year of 1842 I think, Uncle Jack was at college in Camilsville, Ky. He took typhoid fever and was very ill for some weeks. My father, leaving his business in Alabama, came from Alabama to Camilsville driving his horse and buggy all the way as there were no railroads then. After nursing his brother back to convalescence, he started back with his brother to take him home. Near dusk of the day they left Camilsville, as they were nearing Lebanon, Kentucky, it began to rain a little and looked like quire a storm coming. On the side of the pike, two or three miles out of Lebanon, stood a two story brick house with front door rounded on top, leading in to the hall in the middle of the house, where lived Archie Scott Mayes and his wife and three children and servants. The young man driving stopped at the gate, seeing Mr. Mayes going towards the barn he called to him. Telling Mr. Mayes about the illness of his brother, and being afraid for him to be out in the storm, asked to stay all night. The request was, of course, granted, as no one was ever turned away from your door in those days. A negro man, or boy, was called to take the horse and buggy and take care of it. The two young men were invited into the living room, where the good woman of the house had a fire built in the old fashioned fireplace. Just in front of the fireplace was a quilt in the quilting frames where Mrs. Mayes had been quilting. It being near night and a little chilly, she had gone out to give out the things to be cooked for supper and gather up the eggs, she never leaving that for the servants. She always carried the key to the meathouse and pantry, going out before each meal. After she had attended to all of her duties, she came into the room seeing the two young strangers standing just behind her quilt and in front of the fire warming, as they were chilly from driving so far and very late. They were not strangers to her, for she had seen both faces in a dream the night or two before and her dream had come true just as she had dreamed it, and she knew one of these men later in life was to ask for her daughter, Margaret Keturah, then just twelve years of age.

After an early breakfast the next morning, just before the young men left the house, the older one, William, handed the little daughter a silver pen holder with a gold point, asking her to write to him. She answering, " Oh. I can't write to you." He turned to the mother asking her if she could not write to him, the mother saying, "She has only been in school a few years and cannot write well, but she may if you write first and want her to answer." They corresponded until she was eighteen, but he did not get to marry her then.

When he came to ask her in marriage, she was to be married in a day or two to Robert X. Grundy, (Robert Extine Grundy) a young Presbyterian minister from Paducah who had relatives in Lebanon (some of the Grundys were married to McElroys and Mrs. Mayes was also a McElroy before she married) and had found her and was to marry her the day following Mr. Johnston's arrival. He staying for the wedding but not seeing them married, but told Mr. Grundy he did not know how to do without that little girl's letters as he had been writing her since she was twelve years old. Mr. Grundy answering, "You do not have to. She can still write you." Which she did for another year, Mr. Grundy always reading the letters and adding a postscript. Mr. Grundy lived for a year, then dying of typhoid fever in Paducah. A letter of condolence came from the other man; the correspondence went on for a year longer. He was then asking her in his letter if she would marry him, which she did, and that man was my father, who loved my mother from 12 years of age. More of their history will follow after I write what I know of my father's people, then taking up my mother's people, then our own from babyhood up to now. Sept. 15, 1930.

(Keturah and William had three children, the second child was their only son, and his middle name was in honor of Keturah's first husband, Extine.)

Sometime after the death of my grandfarther, some of the family moved to Centreville, Leon County. I do not know who went first but know that my father went as a young man; Uncle Bob must have gone sometime after. My grandmother, too, lived in or near Centreville. My mother, Margaret Keturah Mayes Grundy, and my father William Bear Johnston, were married in Lebanon, Kentucky, in the early fifties, either 1851 or 1852. My father being a merchant in Centreville, Leon County, Texas. Their bridal trip being to New York City, where they spent some days seeing the sights, going to some of the big concerts and theaters. My father buying goods for his store while in New York. They both met friends, but I forget just who they were, but have often heard my mother tell of her trip there.

After being in New York for some time, they went to Centreville, going to board with a young couple named Cagwin. (Keigwin) He had been raised in Louisville, where his people still live, but he had gone to Texas while young and married there. I have ofter heard my mother tell of how they lived at first. The house had been built on the ground - no floors, only the ground- the chairs were homemade with cowhide bottoms. The Keigwins had two children, a daughter and a son, Jimmie, he was a year or two older than I. My father and mother lived with them until my father had his home built, a two story frame. I remember nothing of that home as it burned up when I was just eighteen months old.

I was born October 8th, 1854. My earliest recollections are of a little white cottage with a front room with porch on the side with doors going to a second room, a porch on the other side of that room, with a door in the back of the parlor opening on another porch, a dining room extending across that room, which was my mother's and father's room, and across that side porch the kitchen in back. Servant's houses in the backyard. I remember there was a gravel walk from the front side porch to the gate, with border on each side of the walk filled with lovely roses all along. One rose I especially remember was large and so dark was the red in it it looked almost black.

My father had a man cook, George by name, a bright mulatto who had belonged to the Grundy estate. Really he belonged to mother as also, did my nurse, Mary by name. She, too, was copper color and had been given to them by my Grandfather Mayes, I think.

When our first home was burned, George had put a lot of kindling wood in front of the kitchen stove, and had gone to sleep on the floor. A coal of fire rolled out of the stove onto the kindling and set the kitchen on fire. George was almost suffocated by smoke and barely got out alive. The house, having been built of fat pine, burned up in about eighteen minutes.

My mother's and father's watches were hanging just at the head of their bed; she saved those. I was carried out in my cradle and set over the fence, but my face was almost blistered when my mother got to me. She, as she ran out, just reached an arm in the wardrobe and got the clothes she could carry on her arms; all else was burned up.

My mother said the next day after the fire there was a large lump of gold piled up where all of her lovely jewelry had melted together. She said the next day, the woman who had washed and ironed for her said, "Oh, Miss Kittie, all dem nice pile of napkins what I ironed so nice, and dat big ball of soap what I got at the store for you, done all burned up." My mother said she had to laugh, to think the poor negro was lamenting the nice soap and napkins when she had lost clothing, bed quilts she prized so much, silverwear, jewelry, furniture, home, and all gone. My father had all of his clerks to eat at his home, so there was always a pile of napkins to wash and iron.

My father always had his clerks to take meals at our home, always serving port or sherry wine for dinner. I remember one clerk, Ramsey Garland by name; he was very fond of me. After the home was burned and my mother's lovely garnet jewelery - the long earrings and pin - he bought a gold set and asked my father if he could give them to her. My father allowed him to present them.

My mother was a good rider and had a riding habit, and often the young men of the town would ask to ride with her; my father always willing. She had a good saddle horse.

When I was quite small, a Kentucky friend of ours, named Monroe, came out to Centreville to make my mother's teeth; she assuring him he could get five hundred dollars worth of work there. He got lots more after making hers. Just above our house was a hill where lovely flowers of all kinds grew. It was called Goodman's Hill. Often Dr. Monroe would go to lead me up there and I would come back with a big bouquet. Dr. Monroe would go to the other towns and be gone for months, then come back, always staying in our home while there. One time he came just about supper time. My mother being sick in bed, I begged to sit up beyond my usual bedtime, saying I was not a bit sleepy, so my father allowed me but said, "I will whip you if you go to sleep in the parlor." I listened for a long time to their talk but finally dropped over on the floor fast asleep. My father picked me up and, as he crossed the porch going to my mother's room, he pulled a little switch off the little peach tree growing by the side of the porch and whipped me. That being the only time he ever did and I never loved him just the same. I felt it was unjust an I did not think I would fall asleep and wanted to be with Dr. Monroe and I was only three years old.

My father's mother, some years after the death of her first husband, married a Mr. Grissom (Gresham) and they had moved to Centerville and had a home just a mile out of town. My mother and father often went out to see my grandmother on Sunday afternoons. One time, as we were going out, Mother on her horse and I on a pony; my father leading the pony. My father wore a tall silk hat. In the distance he saw a drove of cattle coming towards us; thinking to turn them off the road, which was of sand, he took off his tall silk hat, taking hand inside and making a noise which frightened the cattle, also my pony, which gave a sudden jump, throwing me off over its head. My mother said all she could see of me was my feet sticking out of the sand, as I was buried, only my feet.

I remember there was a graveyard on the side of the road. There was one grave with a brick house all over. The woman buried there did not want to be put in the ground, so her people just sat the casket on top of the ground and had a square house of red brick put over her. I do not remember much about my Grandmother and Grandfather Grissom (Gresham) nor do I remember the house, only a side porch. From the front corner of that porch was a hedge of roses, trimmed and so thick that the chickens could not get into the front yard from the back; the hedge extending from the porch to a side fence. What a beautiful sight it was when those roses were in bloom. That was on the right side as you went into the house; on the left side of the house was the vegetable garden and flower garden, too. The gardens were laid off so differently from those in Kentucky. All the beds being square, with gravel walks running each way, each square bed being edged with what Grandmother called johnny-jump-ups, or little pansies. In those days, I wore for everyday little long-sleeved white linen aprons, and I was kept clean as I had a grown nurse to look after me, so my Grandmother would let me pull all the little heartsease or johnnies I wanted and I would come onto the porch with an apron full and play with them.

I remember very little about my father's mother as I was not four years old when she died, and I never saw a picture of her but, as I remember her, she was larger than my other grandmother and had grey eyes and grey hair. She died in 1858 (Aunt Sue took photo of grave site and it had the date of 1857), a few days after my only own brother was born. I remember she would kiss me, oh so hard, and hug me up, and she called my Uncle John, Jack. I have often often wondered if that garden was not laid off like the one in her old castle garden at Castle Dawson, Ireland. Wish I knew.

My youngest uncle, too, lived somewhere in Texas but I do not remember of ever being at his home but remember of their visits to our house. Aunt Chick, Sam and Jean and a baby girl, Irene, but she died in babyhood. It may have been they came out after grandmother's death and lived in her home. I only remember playing in the yard with Tommie and that he would eat dirt, which I thought a terrible crime. He was a little tow-headed boy with blue eyes. I suppose must have been a little older that I as there were two younger. Then I remember my father's aunt living with her children in the country near Centreville. I do not know her husband's name, only that he must have been a younger brother of my Grandfather Johnston's. Aunt was Issabell, Lady McMilling (McMillan), having been raised in the old castle on the Scotch and Irish coast (I think the same old castle that was made famous by the story Hall Cain wrote, (The Woman That Thou Gavest Me). I saw a picture of the drawbridge of this old castle in the home of Cousin Mary Dunn in Corsicana when Sarah and I were there.

My Mother used to tell me that when Uncle and Aunt Johnston left Ireland with their seven little children, they had seven Irish girls that were nurses for them. These girls all married after coming to this country and Uncle, in some way, lost his money so I remember them as being poor. My father helping them a great deal. These are the names of all, but I do not know which was the oldest. There was William, (this was William M. Johnston) named for my father, Tom, David, Mary, Kate, Issabel and Fannie, being several years older than I was but how I did love to go out there. Fannie and I would go to the woods and build playhouses under the big shade trees. We would select one where the moss was thick and Fannie would build a regular little log house with sticks and make a fence all around it with little sticks, and oh the good times we would have.

I saw this same Cousin Fannie, who was very sick and died, while Sarah and I were in Corsicana, Texas, sixteen years ago. She had married a Mr. Dunn, too, and they lived in Corsicana. I, also, saw a daughter of hers and her old maid sister, Kate, who never was bright like the other children. I remember Cousin Mary as a bright young lady; I think taught school. I think the man she married never amounted to much. I met a son of hers from Mexico at his Aunt Fannie's but I did not like him. I do not remember his name but he was abusing Wilson something about the war. I do not know what became of Tom and Dave - they may have gone to the war and have been killed. Cousin William, named for my father, Father gave him a fine college education - much better than his own son got - and this cousin repaid us by collecting debts, selling our land, after appointing himself guardian for we three orphan children. He grew rich and paid us in Southern money; my mother going out there as soon as the blockade was raised against the South and finding eighty thousand dollars in the bank not worth ten cents. She said she came very near to fainting, and was just real sick for a while, as she had used so much of the money my father had left in the bank in Lebanon, taking care of Southern soldiers and sending boxes to the southern boys in different prison camps.

Issabel, coming with us to Kentucky, was with us until after the war. Izzie graduated with honors, being valedictorian of the Braddock School for Young Ladies. She was only thirteen when she left her home in Texas and was adopted by my father. She must have been 18 or 19 when she graduated. She made a trip to Texas to see her people just after the war. She married a Mr. Jim Hopper, editor and owner of the Lebanon Standard They had two children, a son, Lee, and a daughter, Annie. Annie was born after my marriage in 1874, her mother dying when Annie was only a few days old. She was raised by her father's brother's wife, he being the pastor of the Christian Church in Lebanon. After Annie left school, she and her father came to Louisville and both became connected with the Courier-Journal. Annie being the Aunt Ruth for that paper for a number of years. I do not know whether she is living or not; her father died some number of years ago. Annie is near fifty years of age , or older, as I know she was near Edna's and Margie Hayes'ages. Mag was two years older than Edna.

(Writing date for the following was September 23, 1930)

Between our house and the town proper was a deep gully, where lovely flowers and vines grew. A bridge crossed this ravine, or gully as we called it. One day, Mrs. Kaighwin and Jimmie came to spend the day with us - the Kaighwins (Keigwin) had moved somewhere in the country so they came often to see us- this time as Jimmie and I were playing in the yard, Jimmie said lets us run off and go over to your store; so we did. When my father came home he said to mother, "Why did you let Alice come down town not dressed up?" She replying she knew nothing about it as Jimmie was older than I was. My father never allowed me to wear scuffed up or old looking shoes. A soon as they began to look a little old, he

bought me a new pair telling mother to give the old ones to some of the little negroes. He always wanted me well dressed when I came to the store.

I had a large Newfoundland dog named Queen. When my nurse, Mary, was busy, my mother would call Queen and say, "Take care of Alice, Queen." She said she felt just as safe as if the nurse was with me for she knew, if there was a snake, or lizard, or anything, Queen would kill it, or if a stranger came near, Queen would bark and give the alarm.

A few days after my brother was born, there were some ladies in my mother's room. One of them said to me, "Alice , you will have to give me Old Bess for this little brother."I said, "Well, you will have to take the colt, too, for it would just go whinkling around." This caused a big laugh form the ladies at my our manufactured word "whinkling."

The climate of Texas in the summer season never having agreed with my mother, she usually came to Kentucky in the spring. My father coming to Galveston and putting us on the steamer there to cross the Gulf of Mexico ans, oh how sick we would all be until we got to New Orleans. Then, we took a large boat from New Orleans to Louisville, Kentucky, going by train to Lebanon. There Grandfather Mayes would meet us with his carriage and take us to his home ten miles from Lebanon. I remember some of those trips on the big boats - how he men would go out in skiffs and gather magnolias and cape jessamines and oranges. One time the river was low and our boat got hung. up on a sandbar and the hard time the men had to get the boat off; some of us getting sick from the motion. One trip I was taken sick on the journey from Centreville to Galveston and my father had to make the trip with us. As he was carrying me onto the ship, my hat fell off into the gulf- it was a white cactus straw with white ribbons and little blue forget-me -nots flowers on it. The sailors fished it out with long hooks as it floated off. After we got on the boat at New Orleans, my father had a doctor taking care of me. I suppose I must have been quite ill- it was bilious fever.

I remember waking up in the night, I was on a mattress spread out on the floor of the long saloon and a strange man lying at my side. When I began to cry, my father came out of this stateroom, telling me it was my doctor taking care of me. I suppose I must have been delirious before and was just getting better. I wish I had asked my mother more about this, but just never thought of it.

When the fall began to come on, if my father had remained in Texas, he would come for us, buying a baggage wagon and carriage and four fine Kentucky horses, then we would go back by land, taking about six weeks to make the journey. Sometimes, some of the young men in Kentucky would have the Texas fever and go out with us - taking a tent and provisions for the journey, they would go in the wagon driving it. I think the first trip or two we brought George with us but, after he married in Texas, he came no more, my father selling him to his wife's master when he left Texas for good, although he begged to come back, even to leaving his wife there.

Following written September 25, 1930

My brother, Scott Extine, named for my Grandfather Mayes and the Extine for mother's first husband. Brother was a beautiful baby- black hair and eyes. On one occasion, when coming to Kentucky, he being 16 or 18 months old, outweighed all the other children on the boat, some being three years old. There were thirty children on the boat. Those old boats were very fine and the fare at the meals was always so good.

One time, after we had spent the summer at grandfather's and started back by land, we must have started back late in the season, or the snow must have come early, for I remember we stopped at Bowling Green to visit Aunt and Uncle Chapman, where we stayed some days. I remember the snow and that Aunt Lydia made Izzie and I some snow cream (Lizzie). We sat around the table eating the cream when Wickliff, Lizzie's little brother, got under the table and begged for some and that we took turns about feeding him with our spoons.

It must have been on that trip, when we got down into Mississippi late one day, it was raining, we stopped at a house. We were taken into a large room where there was a big open fireplace, with a wood fire burning, and a lot of men sitting around. After we had been in a little while, and were getting dried out a little, a little dark looking man came in with saddle bags on his arm. In a little while he began talking about a disease he called "black tongue", where a lot were dying from it. I remember my mother became so frightened as she had us two little ones and the disease seemed to be more among the children.

My father always drove the carriage; the nurse sitting on the front seat, Mother and we children on the back seat. Sometimes, the nurse, Mary, would hold the baby when Mother got tired. One day, driving along, the two front wheels came uncoupled - the horses trotting along with the two wheels and the carriage sitting in the road. My father was thrown out and hurt a little.

Another time, we had stopped for lunch and, as we started on, I begged to walk a little. I would get so tired riding. I had lagged behind a good ways when my father saw two Indian squaws with their babies on their backs, so he stopped the carriage to wait for me.

On another of our trips, we went by Alabama to visit my father's brother Henry Johnston, and family. I do not remember any thing about this home only remember going with my mother and Aunt Mary down a long hill and a dusty road to Uncle Henry's store, and that the store was built so the back part was just right up against the hill, which was just a big rock and so steep just there. That must have been the time my uncle and aunt decided to go to Texas with us; they having a carriage and pair , too, and a big covered wagon. Ours usually being a light spring wagon and two horses. I do not remember just how many of the children went with us but remember there were several.

One day, on that trip I remember so well. We had stopped by a creek where we could see big rocks; they were flat with pools of water in holes along. While the servants were broiling bacon and venison and getting things ready for a meal, we children taking off shoes and stockings, were wading and all at once I began to scream. When my father lifted me up, a large crab had me by the big toe so I do not think I wanted to wade after that.

Some years later, after the Civil War and my father had been dead four or five years, my mother and Uncle Sebe Mayes took me to visit this same uncle and family, near Gainsville. That trip I remember so well and just how the house and yard and the negro quarters all looked, and all of the children and negroes who had not left. But will tell of that trip a little later, after I get all through with my life in Texas and back to Lebanon to live. The first trip to Alabama was before the birth of Brother, I am sure.