The water bucket was near the door just back of Mr. Dean's desk and we were permitted to get a drink at any time during the day provided there was no other pupil getting a drink at the same time.  I'll never know why Mr. Dean assigned me to the aisle seat next to the back.  Neither will I ever know how many trips I made to that water bucket.  On each trip I picked up a note to Gertrude from Ed's desk and passed the answering note to Ed on the way back, but Floyd and Bessie, John and Lou, also took advantage of my unquenchable thirst.
My first business experience occurred while I was in Mr. Dean's room.  It was common practice for the teachers to present school programs during the year.  Proud parents delighted in watching Bill or Sue sing or recite a poem, and different classes had group singing.  Always, these programs were well attended for very few recreational opportunities existed.  If there was a need for certain supplies for the school not provided in the regular budget, these programs helped to raise the money.  Admission charges were always low, but receipts amounted to $75 or $100 at times.  Papa never wanted to take this money to the bank himself.  So, when I was about eight, he called me into his office and showed me how to prepare a slip for the bank deposit.  He gave me the money tied up in his handkerchief or in a brown paper envelope, and told me to be at the bank before closing time, and he usually allowed me the barest minimum of time to make it.  The first time, our banker was quite surprised to see so small a child transacting business in such amounts.  I had to stretch to reach his window and he kindly offered to fill in the slip for me.  But I told him Papa had meant for me to do it myself.
There were a lot of things I learned in that school, most of them not under Mr. Dean's tutelage.  First, I learned how to make stilts with a wire strung through tin cans, I think I got the idea from some magazine I read.  But when they saw me walking on my cans, nearly every child in school did likewise.  "Monkey see, Monkey do."  But just imagine the clatter several score of small children can make on a rocky hill. After that idea caught on, it was not long until the boys were busy making real wooden stilts for themselves.  One of the older boys made a nice pair for me and these held my feet about two feet above the ground.  Some of the larger boys built theirs five or six feet up and then climbed out of the lower windows to balance themselves for walking on them.  All of those who had stilts formed a line according to the height of his stilts and paraded about the schoolyard in a "Crane Brigade."  It was a lot of fun, but only a few of the girls tried it. 

LIVING WITH THE JONES FAMILY

[Lightning struck the school building while Flinch was played.  My first cigarette for two bits.]
The last year we were at this place, the school board had some trouble finding a qualified teacher for the primary rooms and Mama decided she would go back to teaching.  The school building was set at the top of a long white rock hill.  It was a frame building and the road in front of it was flatteringly called "Main Street" and led into the business part of town at the bottom of the hill. Just across the road, a family by the name of Jones moved into a large house from a good farm south of town.  Mr. and Mrs. Jones were rearing a family of nine children, including the young granddaughter whose mother died at her birth.  The two older children of the family were not at home as the oldest son was married and the oldest daughter was away at school.
The very happiest two years of my childhood were spent in this home with motherly Mrs. Jones in charge.  Her heart was huge, big enough to take in our whole family - Papa, Mama, Sister and me - and to treat all four of us exactly as if we were her own.  I shall never know how she managed to care for the fourteen of us, with no extra help, but she seemed to have ample time for everything, loving us all, and teaching us practical things, too. She prepared three bountiful meals each day, did all the laundry except that the girls were expected to iron their own garments.  She worked a small garden in the back yard, though the big garden was planted back at the farm.  She canned vegetables and fruit in season, made her own clothing and dressed her four girls nicely.  With all of this strangely enough, she never seemed rushed or flurried.  She had help mornings and evenings from her girls, but during the day they were all in school.
Her two youngest daughters and the small granddaughter were close in age to my sister and me.  In some homes, there might have been quarreling and jealousy between us with five girls so very close together in age, but I cannot remember that any of us ever had more than the tiniest spat during the two years we were together.  When Mrs. Jones assigned chores to her daughters, such as dish washing or feeding the chickens, Sister and I were expected to help but to us, it always seemed more of a lark than work.
As I have said, Mrs. Jones was all heart, and her generosity went much beyond her own family.  Once, I recall, tragedy struck a young family living nearby.  The young father was rushed to an asylum after becoming suddenly violent and almost succeeding in killing his wife and baby.  After the horrible experience, the little wife went into deep shock and was unable to care for herself or her child.  Mrs. Jones gathered up the baby and its mother immediately and took them home with her.  They had no claim on her except their desperate need.  For several weeks, she cared for the baby, petted and nursed the mother until she recovered enough to begin to try to pick up the pieces.  And Mrs. Jones did all this in addition to managing her already over-sized family.
The Jones farm was a large and prosperous, only four or five miles out of town.  Mr. Jones still did a large part of the farm work himself, though he had a tenant in the old farm home.  There was a nice small orchard back of the house and to one side a large well-kept garden.  These two supplied much of the food for the family and every year Mrs. Jones put up great quantities of preserves and jellies, canned goods and dried vegetables. 
She still kept poultry there, ducks, geese, guineas, turkeys, and chickens, going back often to see that they were properly cared for.  I well remember going to the farm one early spring day when she took Mama with her to help pluck the geese for their down.  The feathers were ripe, she said, and the geese were beginning to shed them.  I don't remember how many bags of down we picked, but the job of picking looked easy when Mrs. Jones did it.  She sat in a chair, tucked the goose's head between her knees and plucked at a great rate.  When I tried it, my skirts were too short, and the old gander reached his head around and almost took a chunk out of the calf of my leg.  I had a big, blue bruise for more than a week but I was determined to do my share, so I borrowed a long skirt to protect myself and got on with the job. Another time that year, we went down to the farm to can peaches.  The smaller girls and I climbed trees to pick the fruit because we were light and would not break the branches.  After that job was completed, and Mrs. Jones and Mama were busy peeling and canning the fruit, I took a notion that I wanted to see a great deal more of my surroundings than I could see from the ground.  There was a tall windmill between the house and the barn to supply water to both.  It was turning rapidly in the breeze.  Up l went, to the very top and was standing beside the spinning wheel.  I don't know who tattled, but Mama came running out of the kitchen, white as a sheet. If the unpredictable wind had veered, that wheel would have struck me and knocked me down for a drop of about thirty or thirty-five feet.  Mama called me to come down at once; and when I had done so, she turned me over her checkered apron for a spanking I never forgot.
Old Kate was the bay mare that raised most of the Jones children and she was gentle as could be, but she was fully aware that she had earned her retirement.  Sometimes her patience was a bit short.  When Mr. Jones gave me permission to ride her if I could catch her when she was loose in the big pasture, I walked miles but she stayed just out of my reach.  Mr. Jones could catch her easily and part of the time, he kept her in the barn at the back of the lot in town.  While she was there, any one of us five little girls who wanted to ride, could put a rug across her back, bridle her and ride around town.  Usually when this happened, as many kids as could scrambled on too.  She never bucked, but if we wanted more action out of her than she felt necessary, she just stopped where she was and shook. That settled the matter.

THE TOWN OF PROSPER

[Riding Steers]
I have not described the town, which was only a few long blocks down the long, white rock hill.  It was probably typical of other small towns. There was a bank, a post office, a few small stores on each side of the unpaved street, which was deep in dust in the summer, and knee-deep in mud in the winter.  Boardwalks were built up about two feet above the ground in front of these stores; and all along the outer edge of these walks, hitch racks were provided for the teams and horses of customers.  Practically any hour of the day a few saddle horses would be seen, as familiar to the town merchants as their owners. 
The first big snowstorm that I can remember came while we were living with the Jones family.  In that section of Texas, snow that stayed on the ground was rare.  This time there were waist-high drifts all around the house. Papa, Mama and some of the older boys and girls had a snow fight in the yard, washing each others faces in the loose snow and generally having quite a hilarious romp.  Sister and I were too small to get into the scuffle so we stood at the window to watch.  I thought it was grand fun to watch them tumbling around, laughing and squealing, but Sister began screaming at the top of her voice.  Nothing could convince her that it was all in fun.  She threw such a fit that she managed to break it up in short order.
The snow melted a little during the day, then froze hard and crisp during the night.  Next morning it was just right for sleds but no child had one.  We improvised and had as much fun, maybe more.  A big old dishpan had been used to water the chickens until one night it froze and the bottom of the pan swelled and bulged.  It was large enough that one child could sit in it, and a slight push at the top of the hill sent it spinning and sliding all the way down at a great rate.  We picked up speed as we went.  Each of us had a short piece of broom handle to try to guide our projectile but that was not easy.  We took turns, and when Sister's turn came she was so entranced with the speedy ride she failed to steer herself and swing out into the middle of Main Street.  Instead, she and the pan hit a rock and veered in toward the stores.  She slid directly under some wild half-broken colts and why she didn't get her brains kicked out was a wonder.  Hers was the last dishpan ride we got.  The banker saw it happen, came out and took the pan away from us, stopping our fun in a hurry.  He not only confiscated our pan but he phoned Mama to give her a piece of his mind for letting us pull such a dangerous stunt.  Somebody is always ready to tell parents just how to raise their children! 
Later that spring, we found another way to use that long hill to our advantage.  Mr. Jones had a young colt he wanted to train to drive and he brought the colt in from the farm and kept it in the barn at the back of the lot.  He also brought in a very light two-wheeled training cart.  The colt was very skittish and we did know better than to try anything with him.  But that cart!  We were certain we could make it useful.  As many kids as could hang on to it piled on.  Then, with one child running in front to hold up the points of the shafts, the gang could ride all the way down the hill.  The long slope coupled with the weight of the children built up considerable momentum.  It was enough to make those two wheels spin fast.  That was great fun until one of our runners stumbled and fell, dropping the shafts.  Those points dug into the ground, and the cart, children and all, did a complete half circle into the air and over. Luckily, none of us were hurt.

OUR PET "ANTELOPE"

One pet that we children enjoyed during this period was a young antelope shipped from New Mexico by Mr. Jones' brother as a pet.  She was immediately named "Vet" but why I don't remember.  She was hardly half-grown when she arrived and was already quite tame.  We loved her at once for she made an exceptionally nice pet.  A safe place was made for her in the barn, but she much preferred to live in the house with us.  She ate from our hands and if we had a snack of bread and butter, she expected her share, too.  If she did not get what she wanted or if we scolded her, she would throw herself on the floor and pout like a spoiled child. 
When we were outside, she followed us like a puppy and she rarely ventured beyond the gate, though it was not long until she could easily clear the fence in a bound.  If a strange dog came into view, she would show her white flag of a tail and two round spots of bristles would stand conspicuously erect.  Anytime she saw a dog, she would snort, then bound up on the porch.  Whoever was nearest when the tiny hooves clattered on the porch rushed to the door to let her inside the house.
Once when somebody carelessly left the front gate ajar, she ventured across the road into the schoolyard.  A pack of dogs saw her and gave chase.  She was terribly frightened and streaked around the school building, into our yard, but the dogs were gaining on her and she came in so fast she could not manage a leap to the porch.  She was forced to circle the house and the dogs were gaining on her.  By that time, I was out with a broom to beat off the dogs, and Sister was holding the front door wide open for her.  Vet was so exhausted she barely made the leap to the porch, and when the door slammed to behind her, she dropped to the floor and lay there trembling. It was a close race. 

A TEXAS STORM

Texas weather was often unpredictable.  One spring day a sudden hailstorm came up and hailstones as big as hen eggs fell.  I have never seen them so large since, nor so many of them.  The wind that accompanied the hail was so strong and the hail beat against the front door until it took Mama and Ginnie, the oldest of the Jones girls, both bracing their weight against the front door to hold it closed against the force of the storm.  It was frightening, the din of the heavy ice pounding against the walls.  The hailstones drifted against the garden fence until it took three days of warm sun to melt them all.  Lou and I took a big wash tub out to the drift and picked up enough clean hailstones to freeze ice cream that night for supper and to have some left for ice tea a couple of days. [Genevieve and Frances and the hail.]
Mama was worried frantic all during the storm because Papa had taken one of our horses earlier in the day and was away on a business trip.  She had expected him back before noon but something detained him and he had not returned when the storm struck.  Fortunately, he saw it coming in time to make it to the barn and only one or two of the stones struck him.  He and the pony barely made it to shelter.  The barn had a tin roof and the noise of those chunks of ice falling on it was deafening, he said.  He took the saddle off of Fannie but she refused to go into her stall.  She nuzzled her head under Papa's arm and was so frightened that she stood there trembling until the storm was over. 
Fannie was a beautiful sorrel mare, gentle as a kitten, but very temperamental.  Papa was an excellent rider but while I never saw Fannie throw him and do not think she ever succeeded in doing so, on several occasions I have seen her buck him out of the saddle.  She was an expert at sun fishing, could whirl on a dime, but she never tried to fall backwards. 
I rode her sometimes but only when I was sure she was willing.  She had a certain way of snorting, cutting her eyes around in a sneering manner when I started to saddle her, that warned me I'd better pick a more suitable time.  She never gave me a bad spill but when she was tired of amusing a child, she would stop, hunch her back in warning.  If the child did not take the warning, she would bounce gently once or twice.  If the child still stayed on, she bucked, easy at first but getting harder every jump. I learned to crawl down at about the third bounce.  I knew that if Papa could not stay in the saddle when she was in earnest, I couldn't.  Fannie and I had an understanding; I loved her and I think she loved me, but she would stand for no foolishness.  Sometimes Sister rode her too, but only after I had tried her out to see if Fannie was agreeable. There was always some hay in our barn, but in one corner, we girls cleared and swept out a spot to set up housekeeping.  It was a splendid place to play whenever the Texas sun beamed down with all its heat and there was usually a nice breeze through the big open doors.  And when it was rainy, we would be as noisy as we liked. One rainy day we were underfoot too much to allow Papa to concentrate on some of his studies for he was a very bookish man, always absorbed in deep theories.  He wanted us to go out to the barn to play in the hayloft.
"But, Papa, there is a bumblebees' nest right by the side of our spot!" we protested. He snorted at that idea and said bumblebees always made their nests in the ground.  He even got out one of his textbooks to prove it. We insisted that we knew they were in the hay but he was not convinced, unfortunately, for he went out to the barn to throw some hay down to the horses.  He was badly stung. 

THE BIRTH OF A NEIGHBOR'S SON

A young couple who lived just behind the Jones' home was expecting their first child.  Mrs. Lord's mother lived so far away that there was no chance for her to come and be with her daughter during the confinement and there was no nearby hospital.  In those days though, there was always some woman in the neighborhood, who out of the goodness of her heart, would volunteer to help out in such cases.  Mrs. Jones with Mama's help and that of a few other neighbors, took over this case.  Mrs. Lord's two-day-old baby was the first tiny infant I had ever seen.  I was not fascinated for I remarked that he looked like a shriveled-up old man except that he was so red.  Mama was shocked at my frankness and gave me a private lecture later on the subject of tact.  Mrs. Lord expected to nurse her little son as a matter of course.  After the third day she had so much milk that her breasts pained her and began to cake.  Mrs. Jones knew exactly what to do but her remedy was rather jolting to Mama.  Mrs. Jones instructed Mr. Lord to find a young suckling pig for his wife to raise right along with their son.  That little pink porker certainly looked queer cuddled in her arms while she fed her own baby at the same time.  But it was a very practical solution to the difficulty, as both the child and the pig were thriving and fattening at a great rate.  Once in a while, Mr. Jones complained about rabbits eating up the garden or gnawing his fruit trees.  These wild creatures were numerous and could cause a great deal of damage.  When the subject came up, Papa and Mr. Jones decided to go rabbit hunting.  They were very successful and brought back enough rabbits to divide with the neighbors.  Nobody then knew anything about rabbit diseases, but from all appearances, these were quite healthy and when Mrs. Jones fried them like chicken, they were equally as delicious.  Mr. Jones was quite fond of them and always made the same remark.  "If you don't like rabbit, ain't the gravy good?"
He believed in feeding children all they could possibly hold.  Whenever Mrs. Jones or Mama decided any child had had enough and wanted to call a halt to that child's gorging, it was his custom to slip an extra piece under the tablecloth to that child.  He was adept, too, and rarely got caught in the act. 

GRANDMA'S SEWING

Grandmother had six granddaughters and she trained each of us to sew nicely, though I doubt if any of them ever quite reached the standard of excellence she expected.  One of her prized possessions, given her as a wedding gift, was a beautiful silver thimble handsomely engraved with her name on it.  As an inducement to our learning to sew, she promised to give each of us a silver thimble as soon as we could earn it.   To earn it, we would have to be able to make a neat flat fell seam, a French fell, work a pretty button-hole, and make a nice hem.  Nothing but tiny even stitches would do.  I earned my thimble by making a dress for my favorite doll and the thimble was my birthday present when I was seven.  I still have it.  
Learning to sew for me, was not an unmixed joy.  Mama hated to darn, particularly socks.  Papa was extremely sensitive to the tiniest knot or the slightest roughness in his socks and his toes poked through so easily.  He was inclined to tantrums if he could feel the darned place at all. From the time I learned to darn, every Saturday afternoon, I was made to do all the darning of hose for the four of us.  The chore was irksome, not alone because of Papa's exacting demands, but because while I was paid one nickel for doing the darning, I was required to place that same nickel in the Sunday School collection the next morning.  Sister got her nickel for the Sunday School collection the same as I but there was never any explanation as to how she earned it.  She got her thimble when she was ten, but sewing was a talent she never used, or almost never. 

RATTLESNAKE

I killed my first rattlesnake at the age of eight.  I had been sent on an errand for Papa and on the way back I saw a small ground rattler crawling along by the side of the road.  It was very light in color and almost the same shade of light gray-tan as the ground.  I remember that it had only one rattle and a button.  I killed it by jumping on it and bringing my heels down as hard as I could, then jumping away.  I jumped back and forth, again and again.  Still not satisfied that it was really dead because it continued to writhe, I got a heavy rock and pounded it. I had no idea that Papa might be watching me from a window but when I reached home, he met me at the door, angry and scolding because he was, as usual, impatient with any slight delay that I might cause him.  He threatened to whip me for playing on the way when he had sent me on an errand for him.  From me, he always expected instant obedience.
I told him I had not been playing.  He reminded me that he had watched me. Then I told him about killing the snake.  He did not believe me and accused me of lying.  When he went into the yard to get a switch, fortunately one of the neighbors who lived down the road came by and remarked to Papa how brave he thought I was to kill that rattler all by myself.  Papa still doubted the story enough that he went to see the evidence, or else he just wanted to see the snake for he was very interested in all kinds of reptiles.  When he came back, all he said was that I was never to try to kill another snake in that manner, as it was too dangerous. 

TAKING CARE OF "SISTER"

I cannot recall that Papa ever admitted that he could make a mistake, not where I was concerned anyway.  He was never wrong.  Once when I was about nine, he sent me to bed without any supper and I have always remembered the incident with a tinge of bitterness.  Mama was to be away from home for the afternoon and Papa was busy with some project at home that he expected would take several hours to complete.  Sister and I were told to play in the yard and not to bother Papa while Mama was away.
Soon after Mama left, Papa remembered something he intended to do at the school building.  He would not be far away, and he left us, telling us not to go outside the yard.  He was hardly out of sight when a little girl we played with frequently came by and asked Sister and me to go with her across town to see her grandmother.  I told her that Sister and I were not allowed to go so far without permission, and Papa was too busy for us to bother him to ask to go.  Sister went anyway, in spite of my protests.  I stayed home obediently.
Papa came home first.  Whatever he had been working on at the school building had not turned out as he expected and he was vexed about it.  He asked me where Sister was and I told him she had gone with Luella to her grandmother's house.  I never understood why he took his bad temper out on me, but he said he detested a tattler though I had merely answered his question.  He said it was contemptible for me to tattle on my Sister and I was ordered to bed with no supper.
Mama came home before Sister did, and it was nearly dark before the child returned.  Sister was not punished in any way.  I told Mama what Papa had said to me and why he said he made me go to bed, but she never interceded or tried to make it up to me in any way.  There were many other times when Papa showed his preference for Sister in various ways but Mama never interfered.  She must have known that he petted and spoiled Sister outrageously.  Most of the time, Mama herself tried to treat us fairly, I think.
I know that, as a child, I was extremely sensitive and many times drew back into my shell, especially if Papa was in the vicinity.  I hardly believe, however, that the attitude of my parents inflicted any serious or lasting damage to my personality.  To some extent, it might have since I am still inclined to be retiring.  It certainly taught me to depend on my own resources, and never to expect much in the way of favors from any one.

PAPA'S HEALTH

In my childhood, the one person who never let me down was Grandpa.  I adored him for he understood me and was unfailingly considerate of my feelings.  I knew that he truly loved me, and that I could always draw on his wisdom and gentleness.  I needed that healing balm many times. Papa was never a robust man, and after teaching ten or more years, he developed a hacking cough.  He became convinced that breathing the chalk dust of the schoolroom constantly was having an effect very detrimental to his health.  He was haunted, also, by the fear that he would die early as his mother had done.  He was only a stripling when he lost her and although the doctors did not diagnose her last illness as such, Papa was convinced that her death was from tuberculosis and when he began coughing, he feared the same end.
He gave up teaching, for good and all, he said.  His preparation and training had all been in that field and he liked the work.  Consequently, it was a hard decision for him to make, partly because he had no idea how else he could make a living for his family.  After much discussion, he took Mama home to her parents while he went out to the Texas Panhandle, hoping that a change in climate would improve his health.  He was sure a change of climate was what he needed.  He stayed two years in Amarillo, only coming home on short visits and his health did improve.  During that time, he sold insurance, but was barely able to make enough to support himself with nothing left over for his family. 

Henry Lyles married LeNora "Nora" Key, daughter of Mary Emiline Dillingham Key, who was widowed when Nora was 11 years old.  Later Mary Emiline married Mr. William Jefferson Walsh.  They built the boarding house at 315 S. Crockett in Sherman, which remained in the family until 1879.

Mary Emiline Dillingham Key Walsh mother of Nora Key Weems

Nora Key Weems with her aunt, America Dillingham Mitchell

Martha "Mattie" Jane Walsh Fleming d/o Mary Emiline Key Walsh half-sister of Nora Key

Nora Key high school graduation

Nora Key college graduation

Letter written by "Uncle Buddy", Harvey Lyles Weems, to his cousin, on a statement form from :

Harvey Weems LeNora Key Weems

"The Roberts, Sanford & Taylor Company, Sherman, Texas. 6/25/99 Miss Katie May Red  Memphis Dear Cousin Your Photo & Note came to hand several days since & I intended writing you some time ago & tell you how much I appreciated your sending us your Photo-But have been very Busy.  We were invoicing last month & that is always such a great Big job and we hardly got through Before we Began dreading the next time.  Well I do not think you look very natural.  Wish you could pay us a visit would like so much to see you.  Say did you know that Jessie Good (Gorch?) was staying with Ma.  This summer Momma and Pa are living here in Sherman. Nora and I have been Keeping house for about Six Months.  By the way Nora is spending the Summer in Mss.  Will be Back about the First of August.  I am having a good time by my Lonesome.  I stay some with Momma & some with Mrs. Walsh.   I have not seen Sis for some time the Children have whooping Cough but are getting along all right. Did you know we had a Great Big Girl at our house, About five months old.  Ma said tell you She had written you several letters but had rcd. no reply. Sis is coming up the last of this week so you see we will all be at home again.  It is quick but out here now Sherman is on sure enough.  Are you still Boarding at the same place that you were when we were in Memphis two years ago.  It doesn't seem like two years since we were up there, does it? Ma still has lots of flowers.  Nora has a good many but I don't know whether she will have any at all when the corms freeze or not.  Are you going home this Summer or not necessarily now that your married where you write.  Is Lizzie visiting you yet.  You did not say in your letter.  Business is rather dull now so I am not so Busy.  But will pay up for it in the fall.  We have a few cases of small pox here in Sherman, But don't think there is any danger.   Well I must Close as I have some Shopping to do.  Love to You and Lizzie.  Hope you are having a nice time.  Write when Convenient. Your Cousin,  H.L. Weems

When a new town was laid out on the railroad not far from where Papa and Mama were teaching, Mama's oldest brother saw an opportunity to establish a new business and he opened up a hardware, furniture and implement store. It grew so rapidly that he soon brought Grandpa into the store to help.  In  a little while there was more work than the two of them could handle and they hired a man. 

Harvey Weems ran a hardware store until his death in 1906.
This is the picture of the stock room - Harvey is front, left.

They wanted Mama to help them with the bookkeeping and some clerking.  She agreed to do so, but when school time drew near, she was to take over the primary department in the new brick building that was hardly completed.  So while Papa was recuperating in west Texas, Mama, Sister and I lived with Mama's parents.  We knew everybody and everything looked rosy.  Then suddenly, Uncle Buddy was stricken with acute appendicitis. By the time the doctor decided that was the correct diagnosis, it was too late to take him to the one northbound train that would carry him to the hospital. Thirty miles from the nearest hospital, his appendix burst and though he was taken to the hospital and the operation performed, it was too late and he died in four days.  It was a great bereavement for the whole family, and he left a young widow with two small girls, the oldest, Mary Weems Elam, aged 5, & the youngest, Annie Lou Weems, aged 3, named after Harvey's sister, Annie Lou Weems Lanham.  

Lenora "Nora" Key Weems
widow of Harvey Weems
She ran the library for about 30 years after her husband's death.

Courthouse & Library
Sherman, Texas
pre-1900

Uncle Buddy had been the manager of the store, and Grandpa was getting too old to continue carrying the whole responsibility for long.  Mama redoubled her efforts to help, and between the two of them they managed to carry on until the business could be disposed of without great loss.  

"Uncle Buddy" & Nora Weems daughter Mary married Mr. Elam.  Her daughter was Mary Lou Weems and her granddaughter was Carolyn A. Rogers, contributor of the information & photographs.

James Madison Weems Sr. home at Celina
James Madison Weems Sr. with wife Kittie, Catherine Red Weems, and
his daughter Annie Lou Lanham Weems with her two daughters Carrie Lee Lanham (Autry) and Kittie Lanham (Oakes)

The small town where Mama's parents lived was a very pleasant one.  Grandpa had built a comfortable home set on a plot large enough for him to have a wonderful vegetable garden and for Grandmama to have all the space for flowers she could possibly want.  To her, roses were never just roses, they had to have names, and she made it a point to call them only by those designations.  Along the wire fence, she always had a long space reserved for her sweet peas, the finest I've ever seen growing.  The gravel walk was outlined with carnations, and there was mignonette, sweet basil, and all the best of the old-fashioned posies with many of the newer ones.  

GRANDMA WEEMS

She planted cypress vines near the porch columns and twined great ropes of this ferny-leafed plant around those pillars.  Their brilliant red and green attracted humming birds every summer and sometimes, I have seen as many as eight at once, sipping nectar from the dainty trumpets.  Once, when I was standing still to watch them, I put out my hand and caught the brightly jeweled little creature.  That was a thrill I shall never forget.  I was careful not to injure him and I took him into the house to show him to the other members of the family.  He had tiny claws like fine black wire and I could feel his frightened little heart's racing beats against my palm.  After each of us had examined him, I took him back to the vine and released him.  He darted away, but I was sure he came back again in a very short time.
A few weeks later I was equally as fortunate when I found a hummingbird's nest.  They are usually so well camouflaged that a person can look directly at them without knowing a nest is there.  Such a rare discovery few ever make, as it looks more like a mossy knot on a vine or branch.  The one I found was like that and it held two tiny eggs about the size of garden peas.
During the time we lived with our grandparents, Sister and I enjoyed many new experiences.  Once Uncle Mat wrote to Mama to send us up to see him on the day the circus was to be in town.  Mama decided that was an important occasion, important enough that she even let us miss a day of school and ordinarily we had to be running a temperature to get out of that.
For the first time, we rode on the train without a grown-up and that made us feel almost adult.  Uncle Mat met us at the train and took us to the circus himself, with his own two smaller children and three or four others.  Did we have fun?  It would be hard to tell who had the most!
When we returned home, we tried to remember and act out everything we had seen.  Grandpa's old horse, Bill, was not cooperative.  I could and did stand up on his back, but he would not trot around the barnyard, which was just as well because I had not remembered to put any kind of surcingle on him.  All he did was stand and switch at flies.
Sister and I were more successful with our trapeze act.  We found a long two-by-four and stretched it across the narrow space between Grandpa's barn and the one belonging to our next door neighbor.  With the big barn door open, the space about four feet wide was ample for our stunts and the door gave us a screen for a measure of privacy.  Our two-by-four was high enough that we could dangle a double trapeze below it for our practice performances.
Sister was light enough that I could easily swing by my knees with a leather strap between my teeth, holding a bar on which she cut her capers. I could also hang and swing by my teeth while she did stunts on the bar above me.  We both hung by our heels, balanced on one foot, turned flips, and swung up and down like monkeys.  It was great fun.  We were shielded by the two barns for complete privacy, or so we thought.  Our neighbor was an old maid with a lot of curiosity.  She slipped into her barn and peeked through the cracks to find out what we were up to.  She was horrified and reported to Mama that we would break our necks on that rigging.  The circus will never know that they missed star performers because of that meddlesome old busybody. 

MUSIC LESSONS

About this time, Mama decided I should have the advantage of musical training.  A new music teacher had come into town and the school board provided a room in the school building where she could give private lessons to those children whose parents were willing to pay the modest fee.  Helen Brightman was truly gifted.  She could play any instrument with the minimum of effort but she was especially good with the violin and piano.  Her classes were quickly filled.  I wanted to try violin and begged for that training but Mama wanted me to have piano training.
I have never considered that I had any special talent in music, though I enjoyed working even at scales when I was taking lessons from Miss Brightman.  Since we did not have a piano at home, I went to school early to practice before school started and put in half an hour everyday before reporting to my classroom for regular schoolwork.  After school, I practiced again for an hour and sometimes went back on Saturday.  With that much practice, naturally, I made rapid progress and soon caught up with some of the other pupils who had started long before I did.  Miss Brightman was an excellent teacher but she discovered a slight deafness in my left ear and frankly told my mother that the imbalance in my hearing would prevent me from ever becoming a real musician.  No one had ever noticed this defect before.  At any rate, the slight amount of music I was exposed to permitted me to play simple hymns, and some marches for school programs.  

6TH GRADE

The teacher I had for my sixth grade studies was a funny, quaint little woman whose age we often wondered about.  She was an "old Maid" sister of the local doctor, and he was far from young.  I think at that time Miss Martin must have been several years beyond present retirement limits but she was still one of the best teachers I had during grade school.
She was the one who discovered in me a talent no one else had ever taken the trouble to notice and it came about in a way that I was slightly ashamed of.  I do not recall what she did that I did not like but she made me angry about something, probably it was a correction for whispering, a fault I was often guilty of while in her room.  Anyway, I drew a cartoon of her.  It was slightly exaggerated, particularly in the number of wrinkles, but at the same time it definitely was a likeness.  Any one who knew her would recognize that.  I became so absorbed in the production that I did not have time to cover it when she came up behind me.  I expected at least a scolding, and possibly I would have to stay after school.  It certainly did not flatter her, but she liked it.  Said it was a portrait she would always treasure, and she showed it to Mama and others with the comment that such talent should be developed.  I sincerely wish it had.   Mama, who graduated in painting under one of the best teachers of the time and who had considerable talent herself, never gave me the lessons I wished for. Part of the time while I was growing up, she taught painting, but the only thing I can remember drawing during the lessons she was giving others was a  single charcoal drawing of a jug.  She never had the time to give me lessons, always promising to do so in the future. 

"BOY CRAZY"

It seems to be the nature of girls to go through the stage of being "boy crazy" and I was no exception.  It hit me when I was about eleven, and during the time that I was in Miss Martin's room.  I was not the only one so affected as my chum and I really suffered with a terrific case of it.  I could hardly study and was constantly watching to see what that certain boy was doing.  We had what was called a "desperate case" and it was much longer lasting than such affairs usually seem to be.  Dee and I were about the same age and as I look back in memory, it seems that I thought he was just about perfection, everything that any girl could want.  He had beautiful eyes, a fresh complexion that most of the girls envied, and a charming smile.  But we were too shy to ever talk to each other, more than just a word or two. However, it was perfectly understood between us that I was his girl and he was my sweetheart.
When Christmas came, and as usual the whole family went to the Christmas Tree Celebration at the Church, Dee surprised me by putting a nice comb and brush set on the tree for me.  Once during the following January, a snow and sleet storm left enough ice on the school ground that we could slide. The hill was slippery enough that under close supervision or chaperonage of  the teachers, the girls and boys were permitted to play together since such conditions occurred so rarely that far south.  All during recess, Dee and I actually clasped hands and slid together down that slope.  That was the height of daring for both of us as we were so painfully shy.
Not long after that, we wised up to the fact that the older boys and girls were passing notes to each other during school, a practice that was strictly against the rules but Dee figured that if they could get away with it, we could too.  Shortly after we caught on to what the others were doing, I found a love note from Dee in my speller.  I was thrilled and took most of the following study period to compose a suitable answer.  Each time we passed notes, they got mushier and sillier until a glimmer of sense finally penetrated my befuddled little brain, and I wrote Dee I simply would not keep writing such sticky-sweet stuff any longer.  I told him I liked him just as much as ever, and that I expected to keep on liking him a lot, but we would both be embarrassed if any one else happened to read the stuff we had been writing.  We did not stop writing notes altogether but we frequently exchanged problems in algebra with "You are my sweetheart" or something similar attached. A few days later, Dee had to stop in one of the stores on his way home after school to pick up a package for his mother.  We always had some homework and he had his books with him, but one of his books slipped unnoticed on to the counter and he left it in the store.  A little later, one of the teachers came into the store and the merchant gave him Dee's book to be returned to Dee next morning.  The teacher found in it a note I had written Dee.  It simply said "I like you, Dee."  The first thing next morning, Dee was called into the principal's office and questioned about that note.  In the beginning, Dee refused to say who had written it, or how or when he had received it.  He said nothing at all but he was terribly upset and somewhat scared.  He worried about the kind of punishment he would let me in for if he told.  The principal reminded Dee that the handwriting could easily be identified by comparison, and he insisted that he was already reasonably sure just which girl wrote it. Dee was beginning to get over the surprise of finding that my note was in the hands of the principal.  He mentioned that since the note was not found on the school grounds, and that there was nothing to show where or when it had been written or passed, the matter should be outside school supervision.  Besides, who could possibly see anything wrong in an innocent scrap of a note like that.
By using my note as a lever, the principal expected to pry information out of Dee and make him divulge the names of other pupils suspected of writing notes as well.  Dee positively refused to give any names though he admitted that he had seen several notes in the hands of other boys, some of which might or might not have been passed at school.  After lengthy discussion on the subject, Dee extracted from the principal a promise of immunity from punishment for any of us and that my name would not be mentioned.  In return, Dee said we would write no more notes of any kind.
At recess, Dee met me in the hall to tell me about what had happened and though we did not know it then, the principal was discussing the matter at the same time with our grade teacher.  The result of that discussion was that the principal called a meeting of the upper grades in the auditorium immediately after lunch.  He delivered himself of quite a homily on the subject of notes.  He warned the assembly that in the future, severe punishment would befall any pupil caught writing or passing notes.  When he quoted my little note word for word, Dee and I felt that he had failed to keep the terms of his agreement and that we were both embarrassed by the amount of teasing we had to endure following the public reading of our little missive.  Our childish romance lasted more than a year after that episode, though we finally quarreled and broke up.  So ended an idyllic phase of my childhood. 

CELINA, COLLIN CO., TEXAS

[Celina - First romance with Dee Finley, then George Jackson.  The new school building and my climbing stunt.  Skating on the school ground, Carrie Mann, the ugly one]
This new Texas town grew from nothing before the railroad came linking Oklahoma to Dallas and Ft. Worth, and extending the market for cattle into Kansas City and St. Louis.  Almost with the first train, shops and businesses were there, a flour mill, bank, drugstore, other merchants, all came in as quickly as buildings were erected to house them.  The town was incorporated and a city council elected, a mayor and town marshal chosen, ordinances passed and it seemed that all the processes were proceeding in regular order.  Very soon, it seemed that all the necessary businesses were there.
One of the first resolutions the town council passed with full agreement was that should be no Negroes permitted to live within the incorporated city limits and with one exception, this statute stood for many years.  This one exception came about in a rather unusual way.  After the council had taken stock of the various facilities, they found that no provision had been made for a hotel and a hotel was badly needed.  Several meetings of the council produced no results.  The longer it was put off, the greater the need became.  Finally, some one thought of Mrs. Nugent, a widow with a family to support, and little means with which to do so.  It was suggested that with the backing of several men who had been friends of her late husband and who could advance her some small amount of capital and help her find a suitable building for a small boarding house, that would have to do until better could be provided.  Mrs. Nugent was approached with the proposition and was pleased with the thought.  She was an excellent cook, and could be expected to set a good table.  She made just one stipulation;  she would not undertake the business unless she would be permitted to have with her to help her, a certain old Negro man who had been with her family for many years.  Old Mark was his name and she would provide a small cottage in the rear of her boarding house, where he could stay.  She would guarantee that he would cause no trouble and she would not come without him.
The city council debated the matter during several meetings, but in the end they bowed to her determination.  Old Mark came.  He was an odd looking man, short, with heavy shoulders and very long, muscular arms.  His face was deeply wrinkled, and he was bald except for a grizzly gray roll behind his ears.  Soon he was a familiar figure around the town, and quite an asset, in his way.  If any of the white ladies had extra heavy work, she always tried to get Old Mark to help her.  He was the quickest and best hand to clean they could possibly find and his washings were always snowy white.  Sometimes, when work at the boarding house was slack, Old Mark would do as many as four big family washes in a day, and all the while, he would sing some old religious hymn in a low mellow humming as he worked.
The city resolution stayed on the books, however, and no other colored people were allowed to stay.  Once one man tried to bring a couple in but found he could not.  That happened this way.  The druggist had a sick wife and white help was impossible to get, or nearly so.  The few white girls who would work out, generally got married after only a few months.  After several such experiences Mr. Lake decided it was hopeless to keep one such a short time, he wanting something more permanent.
He put a small house on the back of his lot only a few steps from his home. Then he carefully selected a colored couple, the man was to work on Mr. Lake's farm a short distance out of town and the woman was to do the housework for Mrs. Lake.  He thought he had the ideal arrangement.  But it did not work out that way. The couple came in rather late in the afternoon, and apparently no one observed them there.  They went about their duties quietly the next day but that night, shortly after dark, a large bundle of switches were found tied to their front door.  They were frightened and appealed to Mr. Lake.  He promised them that everything would be all right, that he would take the matter up with the city authorities and he was sure they would agree.  Besides, they were on his property and he would protect them.  The threat implied by the bundle of switches was probably only the work of some irresponsible boys.
Early the next morning, Mr. Lake called on the mayor and told his story.  The mayor reminded him that he was present when the resolution was passed and should have remembered it; however, his Honor agreed to call a meeting of the council for discussion if Mr. Lake insisted.  Mr. Lake did insist. The council met and with little or no real discussion refused to rescind the ordinance.
But Mr. Lake still believed that he was within his rights, and again told the colored couple they could stay anyway, as he would keep his promise to protect them.  However, that was the night another bundle of switches appeared in the same mysterious manner, only this they were tied to Mr. Lake's own front doorknob.  A note of warning was attached, and when Mr. Lake read that, he decided discretion was the better part of valor, and moved the pair out of town to his farm early next morning.  And as long as we lived in that town, the ordinance was still in effect. 

THE BUTCHER SHOP

One situation that existed in the past but does not still continue was the manner in which meat was provided for the town tables.  Mr. Callahan, a huge, rugged man, operated the local butcher shop.  He owned or leased a big pasture out beside the country road that passed Grandpa's home. It was probably a mile outside the city limits but there were only two or three houses between our place and the open shed where he butchered the animals.  We could see from our yard when he or his helper was there but it was too far for us to see the operation in detail.  We always knew though when he was dressing meat for a flock of buzzards moved in and circled round and round, waiting for the offal.
Mr. Callahan rarely bought more than two or three steers at a time but he usually kept a few fattening feed pens to provide a constant supply of meat for his shop.
One Monday morning during the summer when Mama was at home, Old Mark failed to show up to do our washing.  Grandmother and Mama decided that for once they would do it themselves.  They started early and before ten o'clock white sheets and petticoats were billowing on the lines in our back yard. About that time, Mr. Callahan bought a big wild range steer.  His man and the farmer who sold it started to take the animal out to the slaughter yard but the beast had other ideas.  He was strong enough to snap the lead rope they tried to use, and neither of them were expert enough with a lasso to get another rope on him.  The brute was so enraged, they yelled for another rider to help them and the three men started driving him away from the center of town.  They managed to haze him our way.
Mama saw the critter half a block away and shrieked a warning.  She and Grandmother scrambled wildly into the back door just in time, but I was around at the side of the house and ran for the front door.  I had no idea from which direction the danger was coming.  When I reached the front steps, the brute had sailed over our four-foot fence and was charging right at me with his head down and brandishing foot-long horns.  I'll never know how I did it, but I clambered onto the porch as he slid by me tossing those vicious horns.  It was a near thing but I was lucky.
The steer charged on through the yard, slashing at some of the sheets on the lines.  Then he saw Old Bill, Grandpa's smart old horse in his yard. He charged at him, but the high fence there held.  Old Bill bolted out of sight into his stall.  The beast might have cleared even that high fence but the yard was too narrow for him to have a run at it, and he stood there snorting and pawing the ground until one of the riders managed to open our big side gate without dismounting.  The three men were afraid to enter the yard and drive the steer out but when his attention was attracted and he saw the riders circling around the yard, he charged out the gate and at them.  Their horses avoided the rush and after much strenuous effort, they finally managed to corral that steer in one of Mr. Callahan's feed lots.
Mama and Grandmother were still in a great state of excitement when Grandpa came home to dinner at noon.  After listening to their account of the incident and my narrow escape, Grandpa jammed his hat down on his head and strode out of the house without waiting to eat.  He was gone about half an hour, then returned. He made the quiet comment, "It won't happen again!"
That was all he ever said about the incident at home, but the whole town buzzed for a week about what he said to Mr. Callahan.  Grandpa was a very quiet, gentle man, who never raised his voice and he had lived in the community a number of years without any one ever seeing him in anger.  Mr. Callahan was big and bluff.  His fiery temper was easily roused and it was no uncommon thing to hear him bellowing like a mad bull.  A number of times, he had spent the night in the calaboose for fighting.  But then Grandpa stalked into the butcher shop and pungently expressed his indignation.  Mr. Callahan's jaw dropped and he stood rigid with amazement until Grandpa finished his tirade and started to leave. 
Mr. Callahan stopped him.  "Mr. Weems, I ain't never took such a dressing down from nobody before.  You are supposed to be a Christian and you are a prominent member of the church.  Ain't you ashamed to git mad and bawl a man out like you jest done?"
Grandpa snapped back, "If you read your Bible any, you'll find mention of such a thing as righteous wrath!  You have just seen a sample!"  And he turned and walked out. 

TRAVELING EVANGELIST

[Sister and Sid and the ants.  Old Bill.  My first faint - Mama thought I had been marked from birth.]
Shortly after this occurrence, a traveling evangelist set up his tent on a vacant lot near the downtown section.  He was a good preacher and was soon drawing interested crowds every night.  His revival had been going on about ten days and its success was noted when he announced that about forty people had been converted and would join the churches of their choice. The town handy man, Lige Collins, had been cajoled into going to the services a few nights.  Some of the men who knew him were urging him to go down to the front bench for prayers.  He loved his bottle so well that he felt religion was not for him.  Well-meaning friends suggested to the evangelist that if the opportunity presented, he should talk to Lige.  A confirmed sinner like Lige would...a brand snatched from the burning. As it happened next morning, the grocer wanted his show windows washed and hired Lige for the job.  With a pail of dirty, soapy water and a long-handled brush, he was working on this chore when the preacher chanced to stroll by.  The minister was a dapper little man with a fresh white shirt and neat gray suit.  Stopping to speak to Lige, he invited him to attend services that night.  Lige merely grunted and continued to slosh water around with his mop.  The preacher inquired what faith Lige embraced and exhorted him to have a thought for his salvation.  Lige was in no humor to listen.  Suddenly, he swung his wet mop around and smacked the evangelist in the chest with it. "Just why did you do that!" the preacher asked in a mild voice. Lige said nothing and dipping his mop back into the pail, turned back to the window.  When the preacher repeated his question, Lige swung his mop again, this time striking him in the back.  To his astonishment, the preacher stepped forward, clipped Lige neatly on the chin and sent him sprawling.  Lige scrambled to his feet and moved in for a fight.  He met a fast upper cut with a one, two that sent him down into the ditch. 
As Lige lay there, one eye rapidly closing, he asked how come.  Men of God were not supposed to get into fistfights.  The preacher quoted the Bible command, "If a man smite thou, turn the other cheek.  I did that!  Then I used my own discretion." 

DEPUTY GROVER COX

[Along with the businesses that moved in to make the new town came the churches.  At first, the various congregations met wherever they could find a suitable place, but soon buildings were put up for Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, and Christians.  About the last to come in were the Catholics.  This was a Protestant community and only a few families belonged to the Catholic Church. 
The plot the Catholics chose for their church was directly across the street from Grandpa's house.  Father Vernamont.

While the town was new, and stores were being hastily erected, no provision was made for offices, not even a much-needed notary.  The notary was there in the person of Grover Cox.  Because of his friendship with the Cox family, my uncle arranged for Grover to put his desk in the front of the store occupied by the hardware department.  Mr. Cox was the smallest dwarf outside of a circus, it seemed, and he had been offered a salary with Ringling, so rumor had it.  He was slightly under three feet in height and had tiny hands and feet, but his limbs were quite short and his head and body large in proportion.  He was considered quite a brilliant man, with considerable legal knowledge, largely self-taught, I imagine.  He was well liked and was usually kept quite busy with his notary work, deeds, mortgages, contracts, and such.  He came from a good family and had several brothers, all of whom were normal in size.
One of his brothers, Walter, was town marshal but real frontier days were past and barring an occasional drunk, and a rare outbreak of fisticuffs, there was little duty for the marshal.  Even Saturday nights were usually quiet, though if there should be any disturbance Saturday afternoon or night was when it would happen.
One Saturday, Walter had business in the county seat and was away until late.  That happened to be the time when three newcomers from a neighboring community went on a rampage.  They were drunk, rowdy and quarrelsome and they threatened to shoot the town up.  They did fire a few shots into the air.  When this happened, some one told them that if the marshal had not been out of town, they would have been thrown into the calaboose with such behavior.  They blustered and stormed around and boasted that nobody could take them in, and Walter Cox wouldn't even be a good dogcatcher.  To prove this statement, they swore they would be back the following Saturday to show Walter and any of his brothers up, if he dared to try to stop their fun.
Naturally their boasting was reported to Walter, and Grover heard about it as well.  Because he was so tiny and was sometimes out alone late at night, Walter wanted Grover to have the right to carry his gun and had sworn Grover in as deputy shortly after taking the office.  But that fact was soon forgotten and only a few knew that Grover was a crack shot with a pistol.
On the following Saturday night, Walter strolled around the city square to make his presence known, then waited in the caf where the disturbance had taken place.  At that big desk in front of the hardware store, Grover appeared to be extremely busy with some of his papers.  But his big Colt was nearly dragging the ground when he stepped out into the street to intercept the three brothers who had made their brags.
The three burly brothers tied their horses to the hitch rack and turned to see Grover facing them. "I believe you sent my brother Walter word that this was to be a family affair," he said mildly.  He took a stance with both tiny hands on his hips and stared up in defiance.  "Just count me in, too, on anything of that sort!"
It was perfectly plain to everyone who saw the meeting that Grover meant exactly what he said but it was so ludicrous to see the tiny dwarf facing up to the three overgrown louts that the meeting broke up with boisterous laughter, all around. 

[Mr. MacAdam's romance.  Gossip about Mama because Papa was away so much.]
[My first movie shown at the schoolhouse and not considered very appropriate for school children as it was all about the Harry K. Thaw Case. The first ride in an auto, chain drive, and it would not "Whoa!"]
 
[Papa buys a farm in Oklahoma and comes home bringing

Phme my first and only present from him, "Eskimo Stories" and then I cannot remember.  Moving to the Oklahoma farm.  Sister was given a pup that she named Punch and Punch was carried on the train with us.  Our first long trip to Vernon, and we forded Red River.] 

Sister's name was Carrie Lee Lanham.
"Carrie" Harrison's family was from Brunswick County, Virginia, but she was born in Edgefield, South Carolina.  Her father was Wiley Harrison and her mother Caroline Elizabeth Talbert, who died in the 1850s.  Her father remarried and the family moved to Noxubee County, Mississippi before 1860 (that is where she and Robert G. Lanham were married).
He had two daughters and a son with his second wife. It is gone now.
This was when Walter Lanham moved from Maryland to Edgefield.  The family arrived in Maryland before 1700.
It no longer seems to be around. 

Sherman Daily Democrat
August 15, 1916

J.M. Weems Dead
Pioneer Citizen Passes Away at the Home of His Son Here
J.M. Weems, Sr., seventy-five years of age, a pioneer citizen of Grayson county and one of the best known and most highly regarded men in the county, died last night at 12:20 o'clock, after an illness of three weeks' duration.
Death came at the home of his son Dr. J.M. Weems, No. 826 West Houston street, where he was taken shortly after he became ill.
He is survived by his wife, Mrs. Kittie Weems, and one son and one daughter, Dr. J.M. Weems of this city and Mrs. T.W. Lanham of Oklahoma.
Mr. Weems was born and reared in Durant, Miss., coming to Texas in 1874 and locating in Grayson county. With the exception of several years spent at Celina, Collin county, during which time he was engaged in the hardware business at that place, he has lived in this county.
For many years he was identified with the farming interests of the county and was a leader in agricultural progressiveness. For eight years he served the county as a commissioner, and was a splendid official.
during the war between the states he served four years in the southern side.
Mr. Weems had long belonged to the Southern Methodist church, and was prominent in its affairs.
funeral services will be held at the home of Dr. Weems this afternoon at 5:30 o'clock, conducted by Rev. J.F. Pierce of the Travis Street Methodist church, and burial will be in West Hill cemetery.

Sherman Democrat
Wednesday, 16 August 1916

Services Held at the Home of Dr. Weems Yesterday Afternoon.
Funeral services for J.M. Weems, Sr., who died Monday night, were held Tuesday afternoon at 5:30 o'clock, at the home of his son, Dr. J.M. Weems, No. 826 West Houston street, conducted by the Rev. J.F. Pierce, pastor of Travis Street Methodist church.
The following were the pall bearers: J.L. Wilson of Celina, Joe F. Etter, Stanley Roberts, Forrest Moore, Will Gough and Jim Snyder, active; Billie Walsh, W.H. Lankford, George Hardwicke, B.R. Long, Ben Shaw, Judge Dayton B. Steed, W.F. Corbin and F.L. O'Hanlon, honorary.
The funeral was attended by a large number of people, and many bearutiful flowers were sent.

Josiah McGaw's father was the Revolutionary War soldier.  I haven't found proof of the Swamp Fox story though they were probably in a few of the same battles.  Her father died in 1849, her mother in 1855. Should be Dr. Red.  James Albert died at age two, before the family left Mississippi.  George R. died in Texas in 1880 at age eight and is buried with his parents in the West End Cemetery in Sherman.  (note- West Hill Cemetery in Sherman)  

The letter is in the possession of descendants of George Red, who sent me a copy.  He was not on Lee's staff, though he apparently was at Appomattox. This was an unfinished thought.