Before the Civil War, my grandfather owned a plantation and worked it with slaves. He also ran a cotton gin. He lost everything in the war. He was a plantation Overseer for other men after the war. They never seemed able to readjust themselves to the new life after the shock of the Civil War, and while they had to live in a small home with no comforts, yet what house she had, she kept it shining like new money, and whatever,she had to eat was so well prepared and served with such taste and grace that you would never forget it, if you ever partook of her hospitality. She was kind and generous to everyone, but she never at one time forgot the blood of the aristocracy of the Old South coursed through her veins.2221

My grandfather had moved into Robert Lee when the town was located and built a little two room house, and lived in it with grandmother until he died in 1898. He made a living by running little confectionery store, handled applest, oranges, candy, and things like that, and lemonade. There was no soda fountain in town, and as I remember it, they were not handling carbonated drinks in bottles until about 1900; neither did they handle manufactured ice cream in small towns nor make any milk drinks.

My grandfather had a cancer on his hand that ate all the flesh off the back of his hand. He had Dr. Magruder from San Angelo to come out and take off his hand just about half way to his elbow. The only pain-killer the doctor gave him for the surgery was whisky. The operation took place in their kitchen. He soon had to have more of his arm removed and once again they gave him only whisky to dull the pain. He bore it stoically. He had suffered so long, and they had given him so much morphine that he couldn't quit at once. He took a quart bottle, filled it with water, and put in enough morphine that when he took a teaspoonful, he would get his regular dose, but when he took a teaspoonful dose, he would put the same amount of water into the bottle, keeping it full all of the time. So eventually, he cured himself that way, because the morphine gradually disappeared. Another cancer came out on his face a few years later, from which he died in 1898 at 78 years of age.

My grandfather and grandmother were very lovely people. They had been living in a small two-room house in Robert Lee for eight years when he died. He was buried in the Robert Lee Cemetery, and his wife died a few years later in Dawson County. My brother brought her body back to Robert Lee in a hack. It took him several days; he camped out at night. We placed her by my grandfather's side.2221