A to Z Challenge: Zeal of the Pioneers

Zeal, “great energy or enthusiasm in pursuit of a cause or objective”.

Alzina, or Alzie as we have come to know her, was passionate about her faith and her family. But she had zeal toward another objective as well, one that took up a great deal of time later in her life after she retired from teaching. The cause was prohibition of alcohol. She learned from a young age to work for the cause and although “Prohibition” never became a federal law, it was adopted in some states, Kansas being one of them. It happened largely through the efforts of hard working pioneer women. Here is how it went for Alzie.

The Peach Crop Story

By Emma Pomeroy Brandt, Alzie’s younger sister.

A few years after the Civil War, in 1867, my father took a homestead in Kansas. On it he planted both shade and fruit trees, including a peach orchard. He could not go to a store and buy everything as we do now. Indeed he and Mother saw very hard times trying to get a home started and raise food for a growing family. They had gotten deeply in debt and placed a mortgage on the homestead.

One year when most crops were burning up, they had a bountiful crop of peaches, but no market to sell them. One day two well-dressed men came driving in behind a fine team of livery horses and offered Father one dollar a bushel for the whole crop.

That seemed a wonderful offer and Father started to tell them he would bring the first load the next day. He said he would pick them carefully so as not to bruise them. “Oh”, they said, “you need not be too careful. Just shake them off and scrape them up. If you get a few rotten ones, it won’t make any difference.” Then Father asked, “What are you going to do with them, that you will take rotten ones?” They answered, “We are going to make peach brandy.”

That was a big shock to Father. He thought of his debt and his family needs, and then “me, a Christian man, sell my peaches to make brandy???” They told him he would be a fool to turn down their offer when he could not sell them elsewhere. But he said, “I am raising children. They shall never be tempted to drink brandy made from MY peaches.”

So the deal was called off. He struggled on for years, and had to sell his farm to pay the mortgage, but he kept a clear conscience. He moved his family across the road onto the “timber claim” and made there the home where we five younger children were born, and which was named “Prairie Home”. I can’t remember that we ever had to go hungry for lack of food.

Later, around 1907, Alzie’s mother Philena wrote to Alzie describing her “mother’s club” which she had started for local women. These women were wives of men who were working on the railroad. The husband’s wages were often spent in the bars, leaving the women to find a way to support the family. Seeing situations like this as she was growing up, and attending local Temperance Meetings with her family, made Alzie a staunch supporter of the temperance movement. Partially retired from teaching she took work as a field secretary for the National Prohibition Party. She traveled around the United States securing pledges and support for her Party’s candidates for general elections. There were many disappointments in her work, but her zeal was undaunted, as this paragraph in a letter explains.

“I gave much time in 1941 and 1942 to work for an initiative amendment, but failed to get enough signatures in time. But I learned many lessons, and more than ever came to the feeling that the Prohibition Party is the only force that God can use to overthrow the liquor traffic. It is the “Joshua and Caleb” of the dry movement. But, as the majority kept the people of Israel out of the Promised Land forty years, so the “old party drys” may keep from having prohibition that long, too. But the Prohibition Party will be victorious in the end as Joshua and Caleb were.”

There was no lasting success, although Kansas was a state that wrote a prohibition amendment in its constitution, and upheld it longer than any other state. Follow this link to read about some amazing women activists of the Temperance movement. Kansas and Prohibition

My grandfather John, sister Esther (seated), mother Alzina and sister Ethel. There were many more stories of their pioneer life but there are only 30 days in April. #April A to Z Blogging Challenge. Thank you for reading.

A to Z Challenge: Yearnings

Alzina Boone, widowed at a young age and with a family of four children to support, finds herself struggling to be a teacher at school, and a mother at home. In the early days of Kansas settlement, life was not easy for anyone, much less a single parent. Her faith in a caring God, and sheer necessity kept her going when others might have given up. She was my great grandmother and these are her true stories.

“Life was full of interest to all of us, and when I heard the words in song, “earth has no charms for me” I realized that I might easily forget eternal things, if I didn’t earnestly purpose in my heart to “set my affections on things above”. The song “Nearer, My God to Thee” which has words “even though it be a cross that raises me” became my earnest prayer, as I thought of how fleeting are earth’s joys and how liable to change. A sense of impending danger and sorrow haunted me for some weeks after school closed. But my spirit rose above all dread and fear when I read the words in Psalm 145:18,19 one morning, about June 15th, in morning worship. “The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him. He will fulfill the desire of them that fear Him.” This assured me that God was nearer to me than any danger, and I felt safe and light heartedly happy in His keeping. This presence bore me up even when the blow fell.

On June 28 Stanley was drowned while swimming in a creek a mile from home after 6 o’clock.

He had told us at noon that he wanted to go swimming after office hours and would be home an hour late. He was always careful to tell me where and when he was going and to return on time to give me no anxiety. So when he didn’t return before sundown, I knew something detained him. I got neighbors to go with John to find him. They brought his lifeless body home about 9 o’clock that night. While they were searching, some Christian women workers from the Faith Home came to comfort and help me and the girls. I went to my room to pray alone. I found myself praying more for Stanley’s spiritual safety than for physical safety and the words of scripture “It is well with the child.” came to me forcibly from the presence that seemed so near me. I was sustained and comforted even in the loss and grief I felt when they came with his body and called me to the door, saying “We found him. He is dead.”

A doctor had been called to join the search. He said the water was too cold and had given cramps to Stanley, making him helpless in the water. Had anyone been with him, they would probably have drowned with him. But how I wished I had not consented to him going swimming that night. But as I prayed, many comforting memories and messages were given me. Stanley had assured me that he wasn’t afraid of lightening as we watached a storm approaching on Wednesday night on our way home from prayer meeting. He said, “I know I’m ready now.” How it comforts the Christian loved ones when the departed dear ones leave the testimony that they are “ready”.

I longed for a visit from Stanley as I had been given in dreams of Milford Sylvester, but I did not pray for such a blessing, for so much had already been given me in proof of God’s care for Stanley. But God did give me such a dream, even if I didn’t ask for it. I dreamed I was late to prayer meeting and all were kneeling in prayer, many near the door. When we rose from prayer, a song was started and I sang too. I noticed a surprised look from the leaders toward my part of the room. So I looked around to see what was surprising and there stood Stanley, book in hand, singing too. When the meeting was dismissed, Stanley passed out with the crowd. I remembered I wanted to hear Stanley talk, so I hurried out and overtook him. I asked, “How do you like your new home, Stanley?”

He replied in his own dear voice, “Well Mamma, you know I never liked to move to a new place, but always after I got moved I liked the new place and wanted to fence it off and stay there forever. Well, it is just the same now in heaven, only always before there was something I lacked and longed for. Now that something I always lacked and longed for is in me and all around me.” And as he said this, I felt that he was filled with a bliss that I could not express. I believe God gave me the dream. “

A to Z Challenge: Very Tough Times

Alzina Boone, widowed at a young age and with a family of four children to support, finds herself struggling to be a teacher at school, and a mother at home. In the early days of Kansas settlement, life was not easy for anyone, much less a single parent. Her faith in a caring God, and sheer necessity kept her going when others might have given up. She was my great grandmother and these are her true stories.

1904 – 1905

Alzina moved the family 45 miles away to Eskridge for this fall term. Her brother-in-law, Ora, was trustee on the board of Eskridge Bible School and she contracted to teach there in return for $15 a month and room and board for herself and the four children. She was not always paid when it was due and things got tough.

“The trustees failed to pay me the $15 agreed upon, and the matron of Faith Home objected to my discipline of her twelve year old daughter and tried to get the trustees to dismiss me. Two trustees stood for me, so the matron and her daughter left about the middle of the year. I had become inspired with the vision that more than half of the supporters of the Eskridge Bible School had for the future of the school, and I decided I would stay with the work as long as I had evidence of God’s approval and of these good people. I had the work of the Faith Home to take care of after the matron left. There were four children beside my four, all near the same age as mine. In addition to this was my work as teacher of four grades.

Alzina (far right) and a group of her students.

There were times when we didn’t know where we would get anything for the next meal. It was truly an adventure of faith for me, but I had felt that God wanted me there, and would see me through. So I didn’t complain to my parents, or to Ora, my brother-in-law, though he was a trustee, but was having his own tests and persecutions and adventures of faith, of which we may write later.

The trustees sent a basket of bread to us each Tuesday, and my cow gave two gallons or more of milk each day, and pasture was provided by friends. The closest test was one day when, at noon, we had eaten the last boat of bread or any kind of food in the house. I told the children about it and said that we would meet in the dining room right after school to pray as did the orphans in the London Orphan’s Home, of which much had been read and told in the Faith Home Circle.

At 4 o’ clock, after all pupils had gone home, I put away my papers and closed my desk to go home. As I passed through the door from my room to the hallway, Mrs. Cody, who had seemed to join in opposing me, was coming down the steps, and she handed me a 25 cent piece, saying “The Lord told me to give this to you.” So I was happy to tell the children to thank the Lord for answering before we even called.

I bought a sack of cornmeal and we had mush and milk for the evening and the morning meal. And the basket of bread came before noon next day. I cannot say that God would have one teacher bear such a load of responsibility and faith with so little cooperation, but I am glad for this experience which proved that God honors those who dare to sacrifice for his cause, and trust his promises.

In the spring when school was out, we rented a four room cottage in the northeast part of Eskridge at four dollars a month, where we lived six months or more.

As Stanley had learned to set type in the office of “The Old Paths”, founded by Ora as organ of the Eskridge Bible School, he applied and secured a job at the Eskridge newspaper office at $5 a week, ten hours a day for six days a week. While Stanley had a job, it seemed best that we should stay at this place until something else opened. Thus the three other children could be kept in the Bible School. I was not invited to teach there.

John raised some garden and chickens, and took good care of the cow, and by little jobs here and there, he usually had some money in his pockets. It seemed almost magical and we laughed gaily about his always finding money to his surprise in his pockets.”

A to Z Challenge: Unspoiled Children, Untiring Parent

A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

Summers in between teaching contracts found Alzie reconnecting to her children. In addition she was often taking on extra work sewing, cleaning or giving music lessons as well as studying and keeping up her teaching certificates. These are summer stories from the years 1901 -1906

Alzie and two of the children in the back of the boat.

The Things Children Say, as told by Alzie

The milk from our Jersey cow was rich and made yellow butter, but the children had been accustomed to milk from a Holstein cow while they had stayed with Father and Mother. Ethel voiced the disappointment of all when she said querulously, “Why can’t we have nice, white butter like Grandma has?”

We rented pasture for the cows during the summer in Emporia. In the pasture were a number of “sloughs” or ravines which wound around so the cows were sometimes hard to find. One evening when Timothy (Alzie’s brother) was visiting us, the boys had reported they couldn’t find the cows, and Timothy had spoken incredulously of the sloughs hiding the cows. Charles (another brother) spoke defensively, turning to John for confirmation “Why, the sloughs are so crooked that a snake could hardly follow them, could it?” And John answered “‘T’would break its back”, convulsing Timothy and all of us in a long spell of laughter.”

A Salvation Story, as told by Alzie

“Often on summer evenings in 1902, when bedtime prayers had been offered and the children were tucked into bed, I would sit at the side of one of the beds and we would talk awhile. One night in June something was said about Christ’s second coming. As the children asked questions, I answered as best I knew, stressing most the joy his coming will bring to those who are saved. Suddenly, Ethel wailed with a tearful voice, “I want to be saved, but nobody has ever told me how.” As I told her to pray, to tell God how she felt and what she desired until she knew she was saved, Stanley called out, “Mama, come here,” and he whispered the same desire. John did too and they began heartfelt seeking God, with my help. After a few moments, Ethel said happily, “Mamma, I have such a happy feeling here,” placing her hand on her heart.

Soon the boys, too, expressed their assurance that they were saved. Ethel too, joined in the prayer and the general expression of happiness and confidence that we were ready for Jesus’ coming. The next Sunday was “Children’s Day” and the pastor gave a good sermon and invited all children who were saved or wanted to be saved to come forward, and my children went joyfully with ten other children, most of whom confessed the Lord as their Saviour and their faith that he had saved them. “

Going for a Ride, John’s story as told by Alzie

One week in August, our neighbors north of us engaged John to take their calf to water each day while they were all at work. The calf was about six months old, a thoroughbred red, and well fed and strong. The calf had been snapped with a long rope to the clothes line south of the house. John had to unsnap the rope to get the calf over to the well for watering. The calf got to feeling playful after drinking, taking off so quickly that it caught one of John’s feet in the loose rope and jerked him down. With the calf skidding him around the yard at a lively pace, John seized the rope with his hands and attempted to ride in a sitting position while trying to free his foot. They went around the house three times, the calf bellowing and John calling for help. As they passed under the clothesline each round, the seat of his trousers got well “greased” so he continued to slide, until at last the calf darted into the open barn door and John’s foot came free of the rope. He was left sitting at the barn door threshold, looking sheepishly to see if any neighbors had seen the episode. A neighbor boy called out kindly “Are you hurt?” and John answered that he was okay.

Punishment Averted, Stanley’s story as told by Alzie

“At another bedtime session, Stanley had done some wrong to the other children and they were crying. I set him on a chair to wait till I comforted and quieted the others, and then I must punish him. As I descended the stairs after all was quiet with the others, I heard Stanley singing softly to himself (he was a sweet singer),

“Just say there is no other, can take the place of Mother,
And kiss her dear sweet lips for me, and break the news to her.”
Published in 1897, a popular song during the Spanish American War

A to Z Challenge: Suprise of a Snaky Nature

A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

And so Alzina Boone, widow, stepped back into teaching to support her young family. She was able to keep her children with her, thanks to her sister Sadie who stayed with them the first spring. The next year she persuaded Sadie’s beau, Park, to marry Sadie and move in with them and help with the farm as well. Most of the time she took Stanley, her oldest boy age 5, and John, age 4 with her to school while the girls stayed home with Sadie, or occasionally with her mother. She had all the worries of a mother, and a breadwinner, and a teacher. Children got sick, food got scarce, bills couldn’t be paid, but through it all, they stayed together and were glad for that.

The school teacher, Alzina Boone

Alzie’s story continues:

“Sadie and Park moved to his father’s farm the following autumn, 1898. I hired a girl, Mamie, to stay with me and my four children at Elizabeth Town, where I was paid $33 per month. I rented a two story house about a half mile from the school house, and close to neighbors, and my father and brothers hauled my household goods over to the new place. With my buggy and good driving pony, Kate, we thought we were well equipped for a prosperous year. But we had some exciting events, which spoiled our joy of living there, and tested our faith and courage.

I ordered some fresh hay delivered inside the barn door about the first of the first week we were there. I asked Mamie to fill the three ticks with fresh hay to be used as mattresses on the three beds. She filled the ticks during the day and let them lie on the hay pile till I came home to help carry them in. It was almost dark when we got the beds made. Our rooms were lighted with kerosene lamps.

I had put the children to bed, and they were soon asleep. Mamie and I sat on the top step of the stairway, talking over tomorrow’s plan when suddenly Ethel, the oldest girl, screamed in fright, as in a bad dream. I sprang to my feet holding the lamp in my hand and saw a dark snake about a foot long wriggling up and down her right arm, and off onto the floor. I exclaimed, “Oh Mamie, it’s a snake!”

Then she sprang to her feet with a scream and whirled me around, which motion put out the light, and without a match where we could find it . I started down the stairs for a match, but she wailed, “Don’t leave me up here!” So I commanded her to get a match. When we got the lamp lit, there was the snake darting up and down the wall from the floor. I seized a mop and stepped on one side of the bed and struck at the snake, but it vanished.

We hunted for an hour or so, but never found it. We decided it must have jumped out of a low open window beyond the foot of the bed. But it was very hard to give up looking for the snake and go to bed. A neighbor woman jokingly said next day, “I’ve heard of men having snakes in their boots, but never of women having snakes in the beds.”

A to Z Challenge: Qualms and Forebodings

A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

March 1897

“Milford was away from home a great deal that winter, engaged in the business of hunting and shipping game. His crop of corn to which he had planted 30 acres had not yielded well, and he was discouraged with farming as a way to get ahead. That autumn and winter he gave his time and attention to making a living with his gun. In his absence, we saw some hard times when food and fuel were scarce. We bought groceries on credit till the bill became so large the merchant demanded payment. I had to sell our last hog to satisfy the merchant. Occasionally we had only cornbread and water for our meal, but we made merry over it, playing we were birds, taking a bit and a sip, then “flying away” to return for another “bite and sip, etc.” The little house often rang with childish laughter. “Prattle and smile made home a joy and life was a merry chime” for the little ones, though I felt many misgivings and fears for the future, and nervous foreboding. I prayed much and God strengthened my heart, so when the blow came, I was able to bear it bravely. “

“About two weeks later, on a Sunday, Milford asked me if I wanted the driving horses kept in the barn after breakfast so I could take the children up to my folks, as he and a visiting hunter were going to another hunter’s for the day. I had so hoped he and the visitor would attend church at our schoolhouse that day with me. I told him pleadingly that I’d stay home if I could “make it like Sunday” for him. But he patted my cheek and said, “I guess we will go down to Daniel’s”.

“Monday, about ten o’clock, Milford was hunting about four miles from home. His partner’s gun went off accidentally and shot Milford just above his left hip, and he lived only 20 hours. He was conscious most of the time and told the partner and those who came to help him, “I can’t live. Take me to Father Pomeroy’s. I want to see Alzie and the children.”

More details of the sad day are told in Alzie’s sister’s account. Sadie wrote: “My brother-in-law had gone out before daylight the morning before with an 18 year old boy, to slip up to a big pond to shoot ducks. They were 4 or 5 miles from home and in a big pasture. They had shot into the flock and now were still in hiding and loading their guns. The boy’s gun went off accidentally and hit Milford in the back of his hip. The boy ran a mile to the nearest house to get help. The man was away from home, then all tired and scared he ran almost another mile further for help. He couldn’t talk plain and the woman thought he was a crazy bum and shut the door. When he got back to the first house the man was home and they drove into the pasture and brought my brother-in-law as far as my father’s home.”

Alzie finished the story this way: “The helpers got a good surgeon quickly, who dressed the wound carefully and relieved the pain for awhile, but he couldn’t do anything about the shot that reached internally. Milford’s last words were the prayer “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit” but among sentences he tried to say before were “can’t you make Sunday?” And “I know Jesus can help me.” It was awful to see him suffer so cruelly, but I was thankful that he had those few hours of consciousness and could give such assurance of trust in Jesus. I’m so glad he wasn’t killed instantly as so many hunters are with no Christian hope.

He was buried in Geneva, Kansas, seven miles from our home. The text of the funeral sermon was John 13:7 “What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.”

I have met Milford in my dreams since, and always he seemed so happy, so serene, so heavenly. These dreams comforted me so much, and I believe God sent them to me.

Father and Mother invited me to stay and live with them, but I felt a longing to live in the house Milford had built for us as soon as we could get adjusted. I thought the children would grieve most to death for him, but being so young, and accustomed to his being away from home often, they didn’t keep him in mind very long. My grief was softened by my responsibility for my children, and by my assurance that I will see him again in heaven.”

A to Z Challenge: A Pistol Shot

A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

A pistol shot at 12 noon on September 16th was the signal to start. The story, as told by Alzina Pomeroy Boone in her memoir “Me and Mine”

“In the autumn of 1893 the government acquired the western part of what had been Cherokee Indian Territory and opened it for settlement. A quarter section of land in rural sections, or a town lot in the cities that had been laid out by government surveyors was offered to the first person to drive a stake as a claim to that piece of land. A signal shot was given for starting.

Milford and a young man who had worked for my father each purposed to secure a quarter section farm in the “Cherokee strip”. Milford had traded a young three year old black horse for a fleet footed sorrel mare, which he drove hitched to a two-wheeled cart or buckboard.

I consented to this trade (the black horse was mine), but I was not very enthusiastic about the venture. We had lost on so many ventures on the farm, and I would have preferred his teaching school. Milford was not successful. He never liked to talk about it.

He and the other man went about September 1, as they wanted to explore the strip beforehand and get some idea of where they wanted to see land. They had to register at one of the booths which were set up along the borderline. Also, they needed to hold that place in line. The strip was 165 miles from east to west, and 58 miles from north to south. One could begin the race anywhere they could get in on one of the four borders. Many spent three days and nights or more holding their places. Some men spent three weeks on the line. Probably they were with covered wagon outfits and close to water. They must have gotten pretty tired of it.

In this race, said to be the “biggest horse race that ever had been”, the purse was the Cherokee Strip, larger than the state of Massachusetts. There were thousands of horses, and thousands of drivers and riders. Most of the horses were under saddle. The others were hitched to every kind of a rig – light buck boards like Milford’s, spring wagons, and sulkies, and covered wagons too. There were one thousand people in the run and they came in from all four directions.

At the pistol shot, Milford started from a point not far from the Sedan on the north border. The horseback riders took the lead, passed Milford and other drivers. When he had gone about 15 miles with the crowd, he turned to the east where he saw the top of a string of trees. That meant a stream, an asset of great value to a claim. After crossing two dry creek beds and mounting the rises, he saw the welcome sight of the trees he had seen when he first turned east.

He rode onto a draw while he followed the creek which was ten or twelve feet across, and was just about to drive his stake when a rider appeared over the bluff. The man was leading his horse from which he had removed his saddle and informed Milford that he had already staked his claim to that land. Milford rode with the man to higher ground and saw the flag and pup tent where the man had driven his stake, so he knew he had been beaten to the claim.

On some quarter sections there were as many as 300 claimants, and contests after contests for those who could afford law suits, and some who had won fair and square never got a thing. Milford had no money for a law suit and was too honest to deny this man’s right to the claim. He spent several hours driving around but did not secure a claim. He had left the farm in care of his brother Samuel before crops were harvested and didn’t return until December.

After a few days at home, he went to his boyhood home in Missouri on a business deal which was also a disappointment. I looked after the harvesting as best I could for Sam didn’t stay long, but had to depend much on my father. The oats got too ripe so that they fell to the ground and we didn’t get enough to pay for threshing. I got so hard up that I had to beg the two cent stamp for writing Milford, urging him to come home. He came on horseback within 24 hours after he got my letter, two days before Christmas. He never again left me in such need and was sensitive about any dependence on my folks.”

A to Z Challenge : Over the Edge

A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

The title “Over the Edge” refers to the event at the end of this post. Had the story turned out differently, I would not be here to retell it.

“Our second boy was born on May 4, 1893 at the Holland farm. We named him John, with the middle name of Milford. He had a sense of humor, the youngest I ever heard of. When only two weeks old, he smiled broadly at Sadie as she patted his cheeks. We could not decide on a name for him for nearly two weeks. Sadie declared she would call him “Jack” if we didn’t name him soon. As we began to urge Milford to suggest a name, he said casually, “Call him John”. I thought he was just joking, but when he showed real earnestness, I didn’t wait long to ask that his middle name be Milford.

All four of my children were well behaved in company because of the reticence they inherited from their father. They had very little sickness, except occasional colds, and the usual complaint when teething and in their second summer. I seldom used any drugs for medicines for any of them. Foods such as oatmeal, tomatoes, fruit and vegetables could be used, I found, to cure about all their maladies. The most serious illness was when Esther had pneumonia every winter her first three years. Onion poultices on her chest cured her within a week. The first two winters, Ethel and John often had croup, which was soon relieved by packing ears of corn around them which had been taken out of hot water. Usually, if I began in time, I could stop the croup by hugging them close and wrapping them warmly. I awoke easily when an ailment disturbed some one of the children, and our God was always quick to answer our cry for deliverance.

North of the path leading from barn to pond and east of the house was the vegetable garden. Here, of evenings, all through the summer, one could see Milford working with the three older children close at his side. They loved to drop the seeds for him, or pluck up weeds, or anything to be near him. And, he was fond of them and proud when they preferred him to “mamma”. But, the new little girl (Esther) was somewhat coquettish in her manner. She was eight months old before she would go from “Mamma” to “Papa”. How proud he was though when the day came that she cried to go to him while her Mamma was holding her. I was pleased, too, for I loved my husband and wanted our children to love him most, and was happy to see them all so happy.”

In 1895 Milford bought a 40 acre farm across the road north west of my parent’s farm. Here he built us neat one and a half story cottage, 12 x16 with an attic. At my parent’s home, there was an old well or cistern. It was old, but oh what refreshing water the buckets brought up from the depths of the earth. A feed mill was near the well, where grain was a ground, enough for a half day at a time.

“In the winter of 1896 a near tragedy occurred. Wilbur Pomeroy, one of my younger brothers, aged about 11, was drawing water with a pail and rope to fill a tub for watering the horses. Another of my brothers, Charlie, who was about 6, and my little John were near by playing. John, who was only about 3 and a half, came over to the well and wanted to see how full the pail was. He slipped and fell into the cistern head first!

There was no curb, the rocks around the edge of the cistern were level with the ground and covered with a coating of ice. Water spilt on them made them very slick. The wall of the cistern was of shell rock about the size of a dinner plate and one or two inches thick, and was six feet down.

Wilbur jumped into the cistern after Johnny, and by straddling across, found footholds at the waters edge. He grabbed Johnny when he came to the top of the water. Charlie, anxious to help, slipped in and fell on top of Wilbur and Johnny. It looked hopeless and that all would perish, but Wilbur somehow held Johnny with his right hand against the side of the cistern and pushed him to safety, with Charlie’s help. Only God could help Wilbur climb those ice covered slick walls of the cistern and get all of them out safely. Although water soaked, the wind coming strong from the north, and freezing temperatures, they made it into the house.”

These stories were put together from “Me and Mine” by Alzina Pomeroy Boone and Pomeroy family letters.

A to Z Challenge: Now We Are Parents

A family with 9 children survived life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they had illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

1891

From Alzina’s own writing: “On October 15, 1891, a Thursday morning, our first born, a son was born to us. We named him Stanley Emerson. Milford wished to name him Stanley for the first name, and I wanted his middle name to be Emerson, after my father. “

“I had always liked babies that were old enough to play, but felt awkward with tiny babies. But, this one was different, and so were each of my babies, charming from the very first day. After he had been bathed and fed, and admired by all present, he looked up at me with wide-open eyes as we lay in bed, seeming to study my face and read my mind. Mother said, “We’ve been telling what we think of him. Now he is finding out what he thinks of you.” I felt the responsibility of being mother to an intelligent, immortal soul, and prayed as I had prayed for several months that I might train him in the way of eternal life.”

“He was a healthy baby. We were very happy parents. I had only a few of the ailments common to young mothers, though they seemed very serious to me then, as I had never suffered real pain in my twenty years of healthy girlhood. Stanley was usually smiling or crowing when awake and comfortable. When he awoke in the morning, we each raced to be first to take him up. On cold winter days we kept him in the warm kitchen where I cooked and worked. We fixed him a bed with pillows in our large arm chair rocker.

He was usually awake when Milford came home from school and at the sound of his father’s voice, or even his step, the little fellow would twist and turn his head till he caught sight of him, and then how his feet and arms would fly to express his delight. If Milford stepped out of sight, Stanley would again twist and turn and watch till Milford appeared again, and then he would kick and crow in delight.”

“Often I laid him on the table while I washed dishes, or ironed, or I laid him on the bed while I made beds, and he showed the same ecstasy whenever I spread a cloth or sheet over him and then removed it . Our days passed happily and swiftly by.”

“At Christmas time, 1891, we spent a few days at my parent’s home. The first night there, Stanley was very restless and cried quite awhile in the night. I made sure that there was no physical ailment to distress him – just nervousness at being in a strange place. He would not be consoled by his father’s caresses as he usually would.

Finally, Milford turned him over and spanked him. Oh, it seemed to me he spanked so hard! But, I did not interfere. I had determined to never do that, for I had seen so many children spoiled and homes made unhappy by such interference by one or both parents.”

“I knew Milford loved the child, and I could trust him to punish wisely. Of course, he cried more loudly and in a frightened way for a minute or two, but when Milford spoke again, sternly and with a little, but firm, shake, he hushed his cries and nestled in his father’s arms quietly and before long he was asleep. It was the best treatment for the baby, but oh he was such a little fellow and too young to punish, I had felt. It took real self-control and determination for me to refrain from crying out in protest. I am sure this experience made us parents to have more confidence in each other, and the cooperation that makes parenthood happy and successful.”

Stanley grew in stature and in favor with God and man. He learned to creep as fast as I could walk, by the time that the paths out of doors were dry and warm enough to him to creep on. Before long he learned to walk. Every new accomplishment of his was a delight to us.

We both found much pleasure in talking to him and trying to imagine his jabbering was meant to express thought, and was talking. But he began to talk in sentences. I noticed that he made the same series of sound in a pleading, teasing tone as I set the table for the noon meal to be ready for Milford. When he drove home with the team, Stanley began that same cry, “t-i-i-i-e-e-e.” I told Milford, “He has been crying like that for the last half hour or more. What does he mean?” Milford caught him up and placed him in his chair at the table, saying, “It’s time to eat”, Milford’s usual call to him for dinner. Then we began to notice that he spoke whole sentences that way.

The family grew to four. John Milford (my grandfather) was born in May of 1883. Ethel Philena was born in 1894 and Esther came along in 1896.

Stanley and John, standing Ethel and Esther, seated

April A to Z Challenge: Marriage

A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

1889

Marriage had been on her mind a lot since Willard and his proposal. Dating was no longer just a social exercise. It had the possibility of lifelong consequences and Alzie wondered if she would find someone that matched her growing list of husbandly character traits. Teaching school was also quite time consuming, and she was still helping at home whenever she could.

Oh how she missed her brothers and sisters! There were six of them now and Wilbur, the youngest, was only four. So much fun and cute too! Getting to see them every other weekend was just not enough.

Alzie sat in the buggy next to Timmy. He was nearing man size and loved to drive her places now that he was fourteen. They had been up to Garnet where she attended the teacher association meeting. It had given her a lot to think about, and not all of it concerned education.

“Tim, these meetings are very interesting. I met quite a few teachers this time whom I had not met before. Do you know the Prairie Vale school?” Alzie felt like talking. Even though tired from the day long of session, she was still feeling the excitement and mental stimulation of it. All the ideas she had heard and all the conversations she had been part of had her mind in a whirl.

“I’ve heard of it. Somewhere up in Shawnee County, I think.” Tim had not had such an exciting day, but he was also interested in what his sister had to tell.

“The teacher there is a man, a Mr. Boone, and they say he is very effective and successful with his students. I enjoyed talking with him quite a bit.” Was her blush just a bit brighter suddenly? Timmy thought so.

“I hear you sister, and does he have as nice of a buggy as Willard did?” Timmy smiled, looking at Alzie out of the corner of his eye, pretending innocence even as he planned this tease in detail.

Alzie punched him on the arm, and laughed. “I believe he enjoyed talking with me as well, if you must know. He may even visit next week when he is in the area for some business.”

“You might as well tell me more about him then. What does he look like and how does he talk, that you are so impressed?”

Alzie fixed her eyes on the road ahead as she mentally conjured up the picture of the man with whom she had talked most of the afternoon. “He is very tall, which I am sure gives him authority in the classroom. He is… handsome, with black, curly hair. And he loves to be out in the woods whenever he can. Hunting would be his first choice of a livelihood, if teaching did not pay more. He speaks well and is quite jolly at times. I do think you would like him. But, as I said, I have just met him and there is much I do not know, yet.”

That was about to change, as by Christmas of that year Mr. Milford S. Boone had become a frequent (and welcome) visitor at the Pomeroy home.

After supper one evening, Mr. Boone came to call and was in the sitting room exchanging greetings with Alzie while the rest of the family were finishing chores in the kitchen. The children were playing, and Wilbur was intent on his favorite pastime of riding his stick horse furiously through the kitchen, into the sitting room and any other room that was open. “When he got to the sitting room, he stopped and turned back into the kitchen, and in a disgusted tone of voice said, “Pshaw, Boone’s come”. Those in the kitchen were embarrassed as they felt afraid those in the sitting room had heard what Wilbur said, but no – they were too interested in greeting each other to hear Wilbur. Milford knew the rest of the family welcomed him. Even seven year old Emma liked to climb up on the sofa beside him and hear him talk or sing.”

Even though Alzie went again to Teacher’s Institute in July 1890 and obtained her first grade certificate, she did not apply for a position to teach. Milford had proposed and wanted to marry before the school year began. He had a teaching position for $45 a month for eight months. That was a princely salary! On August 21, 1890 Alzina became Mrs. Alzina Pomeroy Boone, wife of Milford Sylvester Boone.

Milford and Alzina