[or-roots] Aunt Charlotte's book ( Methodist Missionaries)

[A&A Stringer]

Walt,
This is great, could you provide source ciation for this information, as
well as the Joab Powell story?
Thanks, Andy

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From: or-roots-admin at sosinet.sos.state.or.us
[mailto:or-roots-admin at sosinet.sos.state.or.us] On Behalf Of
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Sent: Sunday, November 09, 2003 3:07 PM
To: or-roots at sosinet.sos.state.or.us
Subject: [or-roots] Aunt Charlotte's book ( Methodist Missionaries)


Brother Joe and Sister Mary had quite a fine "turn out", a cart made of
the front wheels of a wagon. Bill Athey was a cabinet maker and he had
built a bed for it that was just as fine as one could ask for. He
polished it and stained it to what he called Venetian red. The dye stuff
came from a clay bank up the river and was about the color of a new
brick.

Brother Joe drove a yoke of Spanish oxen, perfectly matched and as black
as crows. They had huge horns that interfered unless they kept them
interlocked or their heads tilted. They were trotting oxen and the big
cart swinging across the prairie behind them, left a fine cloud of dust
in its wake. I was pretty proud when I drove to church with them. They
usually stopped for me as they passed our house. Eleanor Beers was my
especial friend. The Beers lived next door to Brother Joe's and Eleanor
most always went to church with them. Eleanor and I always sat on the
back seat and held on tightly lest we be josted out.

Eleanor was fine company and under cover of the rumble of the big cart,
we could laugh just as loudly as we pleased, even though Mother happened
to be along.

One Sunday we were both terribly excited, Eleanor wore her new pink
shawl, it was the most beautiful shawl that I ever saw, a delicate shell
pink silk, with deep, deep knotted fringe and raised figures thrown up
in wonderful patterns, thick and solid next to the edge and less so
toward the center. Eleanor was very fair and I thought her the loveliest
thing I had ever seen.I got into the back seat beside Eleanor carefully,
lest I sit on the edge of her shawl and crush it. She drew the ends well
away from me and tucked them around her on the other side. We were on
our way when something seemed happening to Eleanor and Eleanor's shawl,
it was almost gone from her. She clung to the vanishing corner of it and
screamed. A final violent wrench and it was gone. Brother Joe stopped
the oxen and went back to look in the grass and low bushes, he looked
everywhere. Eleanor's pink shawl had just completely vanished. finally
Joe, wise in the ways of carts, thought to look at the hub. Sure enough,
there was the shawl, wound around and around, but you would never have
known that it had once been pink, but seeing it, one could readily tell
that it would never be pink again. Though Mother worked and worked at
it, the axle grease was ground into every fiber of it. It was such a
mess, completely ruined and on the first day that she had been allowed
to wear it. Our Sunday was spoiled. Brother Joe turned back and spent
the day at our house.

If Eleanor Beers were alive now and you were to ask her about the
greatest tragedy of her life, I am sure she would tell you about the
pink silk shawl with the brocade figures and the deep, knotted fringe
around it.

Walt Davies 

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