tape. They said things like, "says he and says she." They had a quaint way of talking that has gone out of existence and will probably never be heard again.
Mark was very ticklish. One could jab him in the side and yell out a certain word and he would repeat it. One day he and Joe Miller, along with some other workers, were on the railroad trestle that carried the train across the river. The men noticed Mark cutting off a chew of tobacco and thought they would have a little fun. One of the men poked him in the side and yelled, "The train's coming, Mark!" Mark jumped and answered, "Train's coming Mark" and threw his tobacco into the river below.
There's no doubt that Aunt Matt's ancestors were part Cherokee Indian and that not very far back. She, and her daughters had habits like the Indians. If they were working the field and got tired, they just sat down in the field right where they were.
Louisa Self was the oldest daughter in her family and in those days the oldest daughter not only had to help with the housework but also took care of the younger children. Vade was five years younger and somehow got involved with a married man, in spite of the talking and pleading of her parents.
One day, Louisa and Vade had gone to the woods to hunt rich pine for kindling. Remember, they cooked in the fireplace back then, winter and summer. The girls heard someone cutting wood off in the distance. Vade told Louisa she knew who it was and that she was going to him. Although Louisa begged her not to go, it did no good. She disappeared into the forest, leaving Louisa alone with nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and the distant chop. . .chop. . .chop of the ax.
Vade lived to regret that day, but she put her life back together as few people have the chance to do when they have made such a big mistake. She married a man who later became a preacher (Lige Tucker) and Vade made a good wife and mother.
She only raised one of the twin sons she bore. One day as she and her mother walked down a path, the twin boys were running and playing just ahead of them. Avaline said, oh, Vade, let me keep Will!" After that day, Vade never took the boy to keep any more. Vade thought the sun rose and set on Lawson, her favorite child. Unfortunately, Lawson was prone to bouts of pneumonia. With no doctors, no medicine, and no knowledge of how to treat the problem, Lawson died at the young age of nineteen.
Almost every morning, Will would come to his Aunt Louisa's house and teased young Mary by gently whipping her legs with his whip. On this particular morning he came as usual but did not use his whip on Mary's legs, and he seemed very sad. When someone asked him what was wrong, he said, "Lawson's dead."