xt7pvm42rz71 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7pvm42rz71/data/mets.xml Meehan, Eleanor Childs. 1922  books b92-163-30098325 English Stewart & Kidd Press], : [Cincinnati : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Covington (Ky.) History. Old Covington, Kentucky text Old Covington, Kentucky 1922 2002 true xt7pvm42rz71 section xt7pvm42rz71 



 This page in the original text is blank.



Mrs. Eleanor Childs Meehan


    COPYRDHT 1922


        "Fontd ntmeory brings the light
        Of other days around ume."
        N the mad and merry rush of the present
        age it may be that to a few remaining
        kindred souls these reminiscences of mine
        may be of interest.
            Sitting among some treasured relies
of the past, memories both sad and sweet return
to me. They carry me back to the time when but
a little child I was held in my father's arms to
witness the marriage ceremony of a young lady
who had made much of me, and record my first
childish grief on being told that she must go away
from me.
   A few vears later that tender father's hand
would lead me to where I learned to read-the old
"White Mansion" in Covington where the Reverend
Doctor William Orr then conducted a school. The
grounds included the space between Fifth and Sixth
Streets and between Russell and Montgomery
Streets. The latter was named for the Reverend
Father Montgomery, pastor of the little Catholic
Church on Fifth Street: he also erected the White
   A little west was the old Craig Street burying
ground which was later removed to make room for
the railroad that now spreads its tracks over the
space where the "rude forefathers of the hamlet"
slept. Going south on Craig Street it joined the
Bank Lick Road at the Lexington Pike near which
was the Drover's Inn conducted bv Mr. Ashbrook.
The cattle pens occupied the space now used by
railroad tracks and the gatekeeper's outlook. As
children on our way to school we timidly gauged our


time in passing the gates to guard against the rush
of cattle and hogs being driven to slaughter.
   Down the old Lexington Pike farmers brought
their produce to market. The hills along the pike
were covered with forest trees and many grape-vine
swings were enjoyed along the creek that mean-
dered along the northside now occupied by truck
farmers. On the south side ran Willow Run. its
pretty little cascades trickling down to the valley
where, beside a great flat rock under an immense
sycamore tree, there dwelt alone in his little cabin
one of whom we whispered as "the hermit." One
day a hunter came up into our little settlement,
startling us by the announcement that he had found
the old man dead, sitting in his chair, his faithful
dog beside him.
   WVhere now are the tracks of the Kentuckv Cen-
tral railroad were ponds where, with bent pins,
switch poles and brave spirits, we fished for the
elusive mudcat fish and gathered walnuts and but-
ternuts from the many surrounding trees.
   On our route to and from school, we passed
through two orchards: one, just above what was
then 'High" Street, now Eleventh and Bank Lick
Road, and the other where the railroad freight
depot stands at Eighth and Washington Streets.
On High Street, now Eleventh, were immense
grounds extending from Madison to Russell Streets,
now also, alas, invaded by railroads, where stood
the Baptist Theological Seminary - later, Saint
Elizabeth Hospital - and, at the western end of
the grounds the house occupied by the college presi-
dent. This house is still standing, but much
changed. In the College grounds, as they were
called, Sunday School picnics were held and the
Fourth of July was duly honored by assembling for
patriotic addresses and the reading of the Declara-
tion of Independence.


   Where now is Austinburgh was the residence
of Mr. Austin, near the Licking River. To visit
there, the bars were let down at Madison and
Fifteenth Streets and a charming woodland road
led to the Austin property. In the Austin orchard
I, as a little girl of ten years, was honored by
coronation as Queen of the May. Mky roval speech
was written bv the father of Mr. John Simpson,
who is still living, an honored benefactor to chari-
ties, and it is still fresh in my mind. But, alas and
alack! my queenly dignity suffered on returning
home from the festivities by having to discard my
pretty new slippers, which Otwav Norvell, also a
ten-year-old courtier, carried home in his pocket,
while I was escorted to my palace, the roval chariot
being the wagon which had carried the lunch
   In those days a little pleasure boat made trips
up the Licking river to Cole's Garden, now occupied
bv various industries. The old Tavlor Mill road led
to Taylor's Mills, through what is now Latonia. At
the Latonia Springs stood an Inn which was quite
a fashionable resort and famous for Kentucky
hospitality. Time's "effacing fingers" have swept
awav all those beautiful and popular places. The
Inn is gone and forgotten and the grand old woods
opposite, that stood around the Springs, have long
been leveled.
   As Covington had no park, the Linden Grove
Cemeterv was the favorite Sundav resort. Reverent
and social crowds would make a weekly parade to
its quiet walks. The main avenue was bordered
by statelv locust trees whose blossoms in May bur-
dened the air with their sweetness and lured the
droning bees. At that time a large spring was at
the foot of a hill where now a lake has been formed
by the filling up of Thirteenth Street, necessitating
the removal of the Groesbeck family vault to higher


ground. This recalls the old and beautiful, but
rather gloomy, Groesbeck mansion above where
now the Newport and Covington bridge crosses at
the end of Fourth Street. The quiet loveliness of
old Linden Grove seemed desecrated by cutting
through a street in the rear and the once bare hill-
sides are now densely built up.
   In the early days it was customary, on the burial
of a member of a fraternity, such as an Odd Fellow
or Free Mason, to head the funeral cortege by a
brass band playing dirges or sacred music on the
approach to the cemetery, while the members in
full regalia marched in procession. On the return
from the cemetery, the music would be changed to
lighter sound. Sunday was a favorite day. Now
all is changed, as in many other affairs, and for the
better morale of the street urchins, black and white,
to whom these public funerals were a diversion.
Dignity and solemnity now are more becoming.
   I remember once driving out with my mother
and her cousin, Judge Samuel Moore, to the Kenton
County seat at Independence in the settlement of
my Revolutionary grandfather Gowdy's estate.
Although the road led through a beautiful country,
it was rough and rocky and we little dreamed then
of the pleasant highway that has succeeded it.
   As time went on our beloved and venerated Doc-
tor William Orr built the new home for a school on
the Licking River banks. The grounds took in all
the space between Sixth and Seventh Streets and
Sanford Alley and the Licking River. At Seventh
and Sanford stood D)oyle's Soap Factory, a modest
affair, now the site of La Salette Academy. Back
of it was a very deep hollow, now filled by Greenup
Street. One evening in Winter an older companion
and myself concluded to emulate Bonaparte cross-
ing the Alps and plunged down into the deep snow,
but to ascend the other side was a difficult question


and had my companion been unable to assist me
I should not be here nowv to tell the tale. We were
disappointed in our ambition as was our hero.
   Another circumstance was particularly im-
pressed on my memory. Our good preceptor always
endeavored to have his pupils give their minds
through the week to the construction of their essays,
regularly a Friday morning occasion. It seemed
that a boat, or they called it a ship, had been built
and was to be launched at the foot of the school
grounds, on the Licking River, for a trip to Cali-
fornia. I suddenly remembered, here was Thursday
afternoon and my essay due next morning. In
consternation I seized upon the launching for a
subject and recall my rather flowery description of
gales and stormy seas with poor Jack aloft, but at
last sailing in triumph into the summer land where
gold awaited the Argonauts. My classmates thought
it wonderful, and when I rose to read expected
commendation, hut our wise Doctor, after a short
silence, gravely looked at me over his spectacles
and his sarcastic criticism touched the others as wvell
as myself when he reminded me that the injunction
to make an essay a week's careful study had been
disregarded, as the launching had occurred only the
day previous.
   To return to the topography of the city: On one
corner of Pike and Scott Streets stood the Gies-
bauer Brewery. It was a common affair for us to
stop at the door on our way from school for the
brewer's veast which made such delicious bread,
the flour for which was ground at the McMurtry
Mills on the Lexington Pike where now is the
junction with Main Street. Opposite the brewery
on Scott and Pike Streets was a large hollow, then
occupied by the open vats of the Le Maire Tannery.
Now, this is all filled and built over and the corner
contains an oil filling station.


   Following Pike Street up to Madison, on the
southeast corner stood the general store, a frame
building with shed in front, where Uncle Billy
Wasson, as many called him, held forth, conspicu-
ous for his portly form and kindly ways. Here was
dispensed the usual "dry goods and groceries" and
the questions of the day were discussed. On the
opposite corner Mr. John White had a grocery;
then followed the business houses of Mr. Mackoy,
James Spilman, Robert Howe, Mr. Timberlake, the
saddle and harness establishment of Mr. Perkins,
and other names known to old residents.
   On the west side of Madison Street stood a
frame building, with old-fashioned porches -the
Virginia House. At the foot of Garrard Street wvas
a tavern conducted by the genial and rotund Berry
Connolley. The city jail, a square, unassuming
building, stood at the junction of two alleys between
Fifth and Sixth Streets, while close by was the
wagon works of Mr. John Gray, whose daughter
Mary was one of Dr. Orr's pupils.
   On a short street between Bank Lick Road and
the Pike stood a rope-walk. On Bank Lick and
Ninth Street stood a pottery and we children were
often attracted by the wonderful fashioning of
pottery, as it grew under the turner's and molder's
hands at his bench, just inside the window. Adjoin-
ing this was the residence of the owner, Mr.
Thomas, I think an Englishman, the famous Log
house, then a comfortable and well cared for dwell-
ing. This recalls that other famous building, the
old Kennedy Stone House of Revolutionary days,
now demolished.
   Opposite Covington, across the Licking River,
was the Garrison, from which every night at nine
o'clock the reveille music and drum could be heard
to the western hills. Now, Fort Thomas has taken
away the romance, and the glory has departed from


the banks of the Licking at the Point where the
Indian warwhoop once resounded and the "dark
and bloody ground" received its baptism. But now
our Chapter, the Elizabeth Kenton, Daughters of
the American Revolution, is planning a memorial
to the famous pioneer, Simon Kenton, and keep in
mind the wonderful sacrifices of Kenton, Boone,
and other kindred heroes.
   Old Covington also had wonderful fireworks
displays from the pyro gardens on Mount Adams,
near the point.
   On a hillside at the west end of Covington
stands yet a house once occupied by the great
tragedian Forrest, and on the Independence Pike
a former residence of the great violinist Tosso. The
old river road leading to Ludlow has been deflected
and its curves remodeled to accommodate a trollev
line. Old Willow Run is utilized as a sewer and
soon all traces of the romantic old stream will have
vanished. Wallace Place brings back Colonel Wal-
lace, whose home seemed a plantation and whose
military bearing was marked as he strode into
church. My childish interest was always attracted
bv the old and venerated Mr. John Preston as he
walked into church, one hand leaning on his cane,
the other seemingly helpless.
   I remember when the late Trimble residence
was erected by Mr. Phillip Bush, there was at the
southeastern corner of Madison and Tenth Streets
a pond, on the edge of which grew a tulip poplar
tree; the beauty and odor of its flowers remain with
me. On the opposite corner stood the residence of
Mr. Sage, later of Dr. Henderson. It is still stand-
ing. The Alexander Greer homestead, on Lexing-
ton Pike, in its large grounds was handsome and
stately. The Robbins mansion stood where now
is the Auditorium. The Groesbeck home has already
been mentioned: the LeVassor home still is in the


possession of Mr. Louis LeVassor. Where now
stands the Richmond home at the west end of
Eleventh Street was the Fowler farm, with ram-
bling house and Indian mound, surrounded by great
pine and forest trees. The Watkins home on
Twelfth and Madison, with corner offices, has the
main building still standing, though remodeled and
occupied by the Cathedral clergy. The solid, com-
fortable home of Governor Stevenson still stands.
   Covington was rich in legal talent. I vividly
remember Mr. Septimus Wall, whose wife was the
lovely, dainty Mary Finnell; and Mr. Aston Ma-
deira, who left the practice of law for the pulpit,
as did Mr. John Spilman. Deeply was I impressed
with the solemnity of the occasion when, on taking
charge of his pulpit the usual pledges were asked
of him, and his grave response, "God helping me,
I will!" Judge Samuel Moore, doubly related to
me by blood and marriage, was of the old regime.
Tall, erect, he seemed the embodiment of the law;
Judge Pryor, grave and dignified; Judge William
Arthur; Mr. Cambron, whose granddaughter is the
wife of our prominent attorney, Judge Frank
Tracy. There was Major Robert Richardson, pro-
found student and able lawyer, whose literary abili-
ties led one to think he should not have to be con-
cerned with the sordid things of life, but browse
among his books. His brilliant daughter, Miss
Mary Cabell Richardson, resides in Covington, her
facile pen still turning out eloquent periods and
poetic thoughts. There was the witty Theodore
Hallam, "Mister" he would be called, to distinguish
him among the many Kentucky "Colonels." His
name will ever be linked with that of "Marse
Henry" Watterson; two wonderful typical Ken-
tuckians. His cultured daughter inherits his won-
derful talents and literary ability: her delightful


"talks" on travel and other subjects are always
eagerly anticipated by cultured audiences.
   Among physicians, prominent was Doctor Theo-
dore Wise, whose first wife was Virginia, the
daughter of Squire "Jimmy" Arnold, whose palatial
residence occupied much space in the west end of
the city: Doctor Richard Pretlow, whose entrance
into a sick room inspired confidence and courage
in the patient; Doctor Evans, the distinguished
surgeon, whose death was much lamented; Doctor
Blackburn, whose residence on Fourth Street was
that of a Southern gentleman, with servants' quar..
ters in the rear. His daughter, Bettie, married the
handsome young Doctor Dulaney, now among the
departed. There was Doctor Major, whose pretty
sister, Kate, was my childish ideal of beauty. His
son Thomas was a Sunday School companion, and
I used to look at his pale, spiritual face and men-
tally prophesy, "Tom Major will, sometime, enter
the ministry." Time went on - came war between
the North and South; he espoused the Southern
cause; was sick, wounded, brought to Cincinnati,
where he shared the ministrations of two noble
women who literally obeyed the Divine injunction
to "visit the sick and prisoners," Mrs. Esther Cleve-
land and Mrs. Peter of Cincinnati. With the zeal
of converts, they interested him in spiritual affairs.
He became a Catholic and a priest, by dispensation,
having been a soldier, and "Father Tom," as he
was affectionately called, was the idol of his fellow
   Among prominent merchants were Mr. John B.
Casey, in dry goods; Mr. W. D. McKean, in foot-
wear; Mr. Charles Withers, in tobacco; Mr. Robert
Ball, in foundry work; Mr. Isaac Martin, in lumber:
the Walker Brothers, in dry goods; Mr. George
McDonald, in jewelry; Bodeker and Miller, in
drugs and medicines.


   Among real estate people were Mr. Levi Daugh-
erty; Mr. John Clayton, whose uncle, Mr. Young,
was once postmaster; Mr. Isaac Cooper, whose call-
ing descended to his son and grandson.
   Prominent among Covington citizens was Mr.
John Goodson, Sr., whose daughter Jane married
the rising young lawyer, John Carlisle, whose talents
carried him into the office of Secretary of theUnited
States Treasury under President Cleveland.
   Among my pleasant memories is that of the
pastor of our Presbyterian Church, the Reverend
James Bayless. I happily recall the occasions when,
sometimes at the close of his sermon, he would
announce, "There will be preaching this afternoon
at Casey's schoolhouse." This meant to us children
a long ride out the Lexington Pike to the place, a
long, white building near the Turkey Foot Road,
still standing, but converted into a dwelling. Mr.
Bayless' charming wife had a number of us chil-
dren interested in missionary work and would
assemble us at her home on Saturday afternoons to
learn to sew and hear her instructions. At her
request, we began for her an "album quilt." In the
center of a nine patch the worker would write her
name in indelible ink. Should that little quilt be
in existence now, how I should love to see it! This
little circle, as the members grew up, met with Mrs.
William Ernst at her home, connected with the
Northern Bank, and was, I suppose, the nucleus of
the present "Sarah Ernst Sewing Circle." Mr.
Bayless, the pastor of our Presbyterian Church,
was an earnest and practical demonstrator of the
doctrines he professed. Our then small congrega-
tion felt the need of better housing and the Council
Chamber of the Court House was placed at their
disposal while a more substantial edifice was being
erected. Surmounting this court house was a
wooden statue of George Washington. When a


better court house took the place of the old one, this
statue was taken down and placed in a corner of
the court yard, where it stood a long time. My
sympathies were often roused at the sight of Wash-
ington's effigy so neglected.
   Our congregation was comprised of many of
the oldest families. I recall my admiration as a
child, of the melodious voice of Mr. William Ernst
leading the singing in both Sunday School and
church service. His sons remain Covington citizens,
in commerce, banking and the law, Mr. Richard
Ernst representing Kentucky at the National Capi-
tol. The Kennedy family, pioneers on both land
and river, is largely represented still, and known to
all. Doctor Louise Southgate, a worthy exponent
of womanly ability, and her brother Bernard are
nephew and niece of one of my loved schoolmates,
Jennie Fleming, whose sisters married Dr. South-
gate and Mr. Bedinger, respectively. Jennie's quaint
drollery was the life of our chosen group in my last
schooldays. There were Rose and Mollie Pace,
whose mother was a Kennedy, and little Lucy
Southgate,of another branch, full of quiet mischief,
who would meet a well-earned reprimand by an
innocent, enquiring gaze and a drawling "Sir"
   To return to our church. As our congregation
increased a mission branch was sent out to the
southern end of the city, at first occupying an
humble little brick opposite the Mackoy residence
on Ninth and Madison Streets, while a modest little
building was being erected for our occupation, and
standing yet, I suppose, in the rear of a more pre-
tentious one erected later, which now I believe is
occupied by colored people, while our congregation
moved to Madison near Eleventh Street. In the
first venture the Reverend Mr. Shotwell held the
pulpit for awhile.
   Our choir was led by Mr.James Allen, the father


of the late Doctor John Allen, and here Kate
Menzies, lately deceased, sat beside me and we
joined our voices in the hymns from the little old
"Mason's Sacred Harp," still held bv me. Mr.
Charles Mooar's fine tenor aided and the little
melodeon was our accompaniment. I can vet see
the various members in our little congregation.
Judge Pryor's family sat near the pulpit; his daugh-
ters, then unmarried, have become the heads of
interesting families here. Mr. Robert Athey, then
a handsome young gentleman, was an interested
attendant and later married sweet little Lizzie
Wallace. Our Wednesday evening prayer meetings
were well attended, and dear, saintly old Mr. Men-
zies, when asked to lead in prayer, would stand with
upraised eyes and folded hands, imploring Divine
blessings and protection, until one fairly imagined
he saw the personal Presence he invoked. I had
the pleasure lately of looking at his picture at the
residence of his granddaughter, Mrs. Leslie Apple-
gate, and my mind was carried back many years.
   But War's grim visage reared its head and all
our quiet, simple lives were changed. The long
delayed 'irrepressible conflict" predicted by Secre-
tary Seward was at hand. Kentucky's attempted
neutrality was overcome. Our geographical position
denied us the right of choice. Then, as now, our
ground was the 'gateway to Dixie." Kentucky's
"sacred soil" was invaded, property rights trampled
on, families disrupted, neighbors looked askance at
each other, where perfect harmony once existed.
The dauntless John Morgan and Kirby Smith kept
the Northern occupants guessing, but at the turn
of the Independence Pike a camp was placed and
non-combatants were obliged to work on the fortifi-
cations erected near the river. One day an alarm
was sounded. One of our citizens. a gentleman of
heavy weight, came flying into town on horseback.


"To arms! To arms! the rebels are advancing!"
"Every man to his post !" Early citizens will recall
the portly form of 1Ir. Alexander Greer as not con-
ducive to expediting the breathless horse he was
urging frantically. In all our fright we could dis-
tinguish a comical side, and the query arose, "Is this
a Paul Revere or a John Gilpin ride" This was
but a scare: but the alarm spread. To protect
Cincinnati, Governor Todd of Ohio summoned his
"squirrel hunters" to the rescue. A wire came to
me from a sister in Ohio: "All of you come to me!
The alarm bells are ringing and all is confusion!"
Put I held my post. God was with us here as well
as there. Our streets were filled with passing troops,
although we did not suffer from actual conflict as
did some other parts of the state. The slightest
approach to seeming disloyalty was to risk impris-
onment. Sad to say, some, "clothed with a little
brief authority," presumed and persecuted unneces-
sarily. The ferry boats were closely guarded. Sol-
diers stationed at the wharves inspected bundles for
contraband goods and sometimes with rather em-
barrassing results. Once as some ladies were stand-
ing with me to watch the troops pass our place to
entrain, there was a whispered wish that the
Southern troops were as wNell equipped. But a few
days later a message weas received that John Mlor-
gan's men had fallen on this regiment at Cumber-
land Gap and captured wagons, men, stores, guns
and much that contributed to the comfort of the
hungry Southern soldiers cut off by blockades. The
pretty burgh of Fort Mlitchell occupies the spot
where earthworks were thrown up and the lovely
old Kentucky hills echoed the rattle of musketry
and drum. A pontoon bridge across the river was
a novel sight. Many of our people noN living can
remember these sad occurrences. Although the
"conquered Banner" fell, indeed, and the glorious


Stars and Stripes float again over a united people.
that "Banner" is enshrined in the lavender of faith-
ful hearts. The music of "Dixie" brings out the old
"rebel yell," while all unite in singing "The Star
Spangled Banner."
   The unstained "Sword of Robert Lee" and the
name of prayerful "Stonewall" Jackson stand in
the honor light with Grant and Sherman. In trav-
eling over the scenes of heart-breaking memories,
the sight of a monument to "Stonewall" Jackson
recalled an anecdote of war time. A sudden yell
from the Southern lines at a time of cessation of
hostilities brought a question from a visitor. The
reply was, "It is either Stonewall Jackson or a
rabbit," as the sight of their beloved leader always
evoked cheers and the little "cotton tails" some-
times captured proved a welcome change in their
poor diet. Again, while traveling in Virginia soon
after the erection of General Lee's equestrian
statue, an ex-soldier with but one arm was selling
souvenirs in the shape of bits of the rope on which
even women and children had helped to draw the
statue to its place. My husband made comment on
the poor gentleman's loss of an arm. "Yessuh,
yessuh, I was hit pretty hard, but I thank God I
lived to see the 'unveiling.'"
   However, many of our people remember these
Civil War experiences, and so, before I close these
reminiscences, I turn back once more to the days
of childhood and girlhood. The old schoolroom!
The beloved teacher in his usual chair; each face in
its familiar place-all are photographed on my
memory. Particularly do I note the darling girl
who was so long my deskmate, Amelia Ernst, who
became Mrs. Robert Semple. There was dear little
Laurena Greer-later Mrs. William Simrall-can-
tering in to school on her pony, accompanied by her
pet dog: pretty little Bina Finnell, who always loved


to converse on religious matters and the eternity to
which she was early called; Amelia Fahnestock, the
niece of our beloved Mrs. Ellen Ernst Orr, with her
gentle influence over others less regardful of dis-
cipline; Susan Roberts, whose children, Mr. Harry
and Mrs. Olive Percival reside in Covington. There
was Miss Mary Abell, an Ohio girl, whom we re-
garded with a certain awe on account of a remark-
ably able essay on political subjects which Doctor
Orr gave to a newspaper for publication. Quite a
flutter was created one day by the announcement
that little Aseneth Rose had eloped with the rosy-
cheeked bachelor, Mr. John Todd, who became an
influential and wealthv citizen. There were Addie
and Julia Hamilton, whose lovely mother was a
frequent visitor to the school and to whom we were
all attracted. There was pretty Hattie Fish, with
her curly hair and red cheeks, later the mother of
Mr. Leonard Smith.
   There were Sue and Fannie Murnan, mother
and aunt of the Misses Sarah and Laura Creag-
head, and aunts of our distinguished surgeon,
Doctor John Murnan; Sallie Dell Perry, later 'Mrs.
Pope Sanford and lately taken by death from the
side of her beloved life companion, who, from the
grand, typical Kentuckian of years ago, now lingers
in patient suffering for the time when he shall meet
her in eternity.
   A number of years ago I gathered together as
many of the old schoolmates as I could locate for a
late reunion. I drove around the school grounds in
the hope of obtaining some water from the remem-
bered well which we once regarded as a panacea for
any ailment, in which to toast the past, but progress
had cut a street through. I had a number of photo-
graphs struck of the school and grounds from an
old catalogue and at the plate of each "girl" placed
a copy, with a touch of forget-me-nots. Tears and


laughter greeted the remembered scene. WVe toasted
the absent and loved widow of Doctor Orr, then
living in Denver with her daughter, Mrs. Peters.
We discussed from A to Z the names in an old
catalogue brought by Laurena Greer Simrall. We
sang old songs and had long-ago music, learned
from the school instructors, Professor Kunkel and
Madame Sofge. Dell Perry Sanford found she
could remember the steps of the fancy dances in
which she once excelled.
   "Marse Henry" WVatterson uttered a truism
when he said, "Once a Kentuckian, alftays a
Kentuckian." He related the following anecdote in
illustration: "General Grant once said to me, 'You
Kentuckians are a clannish set. While I was in the
White House, if a Kentuckian happened to get in
harm's way, or wanted an office, the Kentucky con-
tingent began pouring in. In case he was a Repub-
lican, the Democrats said he was a 'perfect gentle-
man;' in case he was a Democrat, the Republicans
said the same thing. Can it be that you are all
perfect gentlemen' With unblushing candor, I
told him we were; that we fought our battles as we
washed our linen - at home; but when trouble
came, it was Kentucky against the Universe."
   After several years' absence I am returning to
my old Kentucky hills, and so these memories come
back to me. On the sunset slope of life I turn in
retrospect. I see my father, grand and erect, the
"noblest work of God, an honest man !" Undaunted
by early financial reverses when irresponsible banks
and other schemes undermined the home supports
of unsuspecting men, he turned to face the world
again, possessing the indomitable spirit of his Vir-
ginian forefathers. With his own hands he helped
to fashion a home for his family and with large
grounds renew the life, after hours, of his early

home. Straight in the eve was his glance; plain his
speech; he would owe no man a dollar.
   I see my gentle mother, happy among her flow-
ers, fostering the Maryland traditions of herbs and
roots, besides. I have vet a faded and broken
remnant of a fragrant lily she placed in my1\' hand
one day on leaving for school with her usual kiss at
the gate and her precious benediction. Inorn in the
year of Washington's death, her accomplishments
were rare for the home training in those days. I
have some bits of her exquisite brush work, the
coloring bright. Her manuscript poetry is treasured
by me as the breathings of a pure and holy soul. I
see the happy, carefree life of pioneer days when
children were children and not the growe n-up wvise-
acres of the present. "Oh Time and Change !'
   I have had experiences of joy and sorrow, as
falls to everv human lot, but I can turn to my happy,
innocent, fostered childhood, and to each succeed-
ing memory, in gratitude for Divine aid and pro-
tection and the comforting assurance that the loved
ones who have preceded me into the "Silent Land'
will greet me when I too am called.
   Now I am returning to miv old Kentucky home,
Kentucky, where "the sun shines ever brightest,
life's burdens are the lightest, the blue grass is the
   I believe there are some among our people who
will recall the "Covington Female Seminary" as it
appeared years ago before it was sold to Ir. Bruce,
the brother of Mr. Henrv Bruce, and among the
students there, remember their old classmate,
                              NELLIE CIIII.DS.
   Mav 3, 1922.



   ,11eN.rNATI. 0.


              SUPPLEMENT TO


     To which is appended Sketches of Old Covington's
     share in the festivities attending the visit of General
     Lafayette and son to Cincinnati, selected from an
     ancient newspaper, dated May 25th, 1825,
     once owned by the father of


 This page in the original text is blank.



  "Personal Recollections of an Octogenarian"

         HE kindly reception given this little
         booklet by many old friends, acquaint-
         ances and lovers of the old Home Town,
         added to the regret of its brevity ex-
         pressed by some, have sent my mind
gypsying over spaces and names that may be pleas-
antly recalled. It proves what a poet tells us:
    "Old books, old friends are best,
    Old things are loveliest,
    Old houses and the glamor of old days,
    The olden peace, the olden, quiet ways,
    Old Gospels and old dreams,
    With new delight life teems
        When these are read."
   Old trees are fascinating in every season of the
year, and we recall in kindly feeling the pioneers
who planted them for future generations to enjoy.
   Old photograph albums, amusing and sadden-
ing; old cemeteries, with their quaint, sad or hope-