Kentucky in the Civil War - Nancy's Fire, Elizabethtown, KY
My great-great grandmother, Nancy Ann Edlin Trumbo was a full-blooded Cherokee, whose family escaped The Place Where They Cried(what we call The Trail of Tears). Both of her parents, Hannah Essex Edlin and James Edlin, were Cherokee, but owned land near Hodgenville, (Lincolns birthplace), in Kentucky. Their land was in their hands long before the Trail of Tears, and during the trying times of the Civil War.
Edlin is an English name-- I have to wonder if they took an English name to assimilate with their neighbors. There is no record of their births, anywhere that I can find. Nor of Nancy's birth. Yet, I know she existed, and I have her picture, dressed in a traditional Cherokee dress, with her long hair unbound.
That the Edlins were Kentucky land owners may be how they escaped the roundup and subsequent resettlement of the Cherokee people to Oklahoma, by using an English name, they may have less 'suspicious'. I know little of my great-great grandmother, other than my great grandmother adored her, and never forgot her love for hernor did her brothers and sisters.
I know that she called pigeons, rain crows. I know that she hung little bells in the tree, because she felt that the tinkling of bells in the wind were the voices of her ancestors, talking to her. I have her cane bottomed chair. I know that she was loving and goodthe heart of her family. This story is pieced together with research and from what my great-grandmother, Louisa Trumbo Scherer, told her son, my Grandfather.
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Nancy lay deep within the feather mattress, barely able to catch her breath. The fever had been cruel, and the medicines she needed were long gone. Her husband didnt hold with native remedies, and the herbal teas and poultices she knew would help her were in the woods. He would have no heathen ways in his home.
Nancy pulled the quilt up to her shoulders, to fight a sudden chill. She thought of her own death-- It was coming, and coming soon. Perhaps her children could escape, to live in another, easier household, if she died. The boys were in the field, with their father, except for the young ones and the two girls. Come to me, Louisa and Mary, the woman in the bed whispered. Come sit beside me, I must tell you of your people.
Papa doesnt allow heathen ways, Mama, Mary whispered, and returned to stirring the corn meal mush.
Yes, Mama, Louisa said. She pulled up the rocker, and, sat next to her mothers bed. Eight years old, Louisa could hear her sister, Mary, twelve, cooking at the hearth to feed the family. Mama was so terribly sick!
Nancy reached out and stroked her daughters hair. I must tell you, so you know to hold your head proud. Nancy sighed, the briefest wisp of a sigh. The drowning sickness, pneumonia, was sapping her strength rapidly, and her breath came in small gasps. The fever was making it difficult to remembera kaleidoscope of whirling pictures in her head. While she could talk, she must tell her daughter what she could of her life and people.
I never learned to read or write, Louisa. My parents came with their families to Kentucky, before the time of sorrows. They escaped the blue coats that forced my people to march to Oklahoma. They lost all of their families, their homes, everything that was theirs, all because the white man wanted their lands and their gold. There wasnt much gold, Louisa, but the white man wanted it. So the blue coats came, and drove my people from their lands. Never can we return to what was once ours.
Hold my hand child, so that I know you listen, while I rest my eyes, Nancy closed her eyes, holding her daughters hand. She gathered her strength. After a while, she was able to continue.
With our people, the women are the heads of the family. My heritage was my mothers. But, in the white mans world, the men lead the families. My mother had to forget her importance, and learn to live like the white people, to survive. It was the same for me. When I was young, I was a slender, pretty girl, who walked through the forest on our land with joy in my heart. My father would hunt, and bring home the game to feed us. My mother tended the garden and took care of us.
We felt wealthy, even though by the white men, we were not. We had the forest on our land, the fields of corn and flax, enough food, a warm cabin. We still visited the hunting lands of my fathers childhood, along the Ohio. My mother tanned the hides and my father made moccasins for us. My mother made for me the traditional Cherokee dresses, light and free! My hair was long and unbound. Now, I fear they will cut off my hair because of the fever. A silly, white mans notion! Cutting the hair does not cure the fever! But, if your father wishes it, so shall it be.
My family went to the white mans church, a holy place of God that my father wished to see. I did not like this church. It had plain, hard benches, and there were many words that I did not understand. Where was the light through the trees? Where were the shadows of the cliffs? That is where God spoke to me, not in a white mans house. But, my mother, she had to adopt the ways of the white man, swallow her wish for freedom, forget the old ways, and sit in the cold hard church.
Your father came to this church, when I was fourteen years old. Your father had dark hair, and flashing blue eyes. He was not a large man, but he laughed and sang while he worked. He sang the loudest of all with the hymns. His eyes flashed with the fire of God. My father felt that Robert would make a good husband for me. He had much promise, my father said. He follows the will of God. He would be able to care for me. Nancy opened her eyes to take in the small cabin, the bed, the great fireplace, the young girl cooking and the smaller girl beside the bed. Barely sighing, she settled back on her pillows, the weariness weighing on her very bones.
Then, the war came. My father would not fight for any white mans army. He would not join the gray coats; he knew what it felt like, to be enslaved. He would not join the blue coats, for they are the ones who tore our people from their lands.
One night, when I was 16 years old, Robert came to our cabin. He was off to the war, he said. He had joined the blue coats, and would fight until the war was ended! He didnt think it would take long, to whip the gray coats. They were a bunch of soft old rich boys, he said. God is on our side, he said, the fire within him mounting. I watched his eyes, as we stood under the trees. They burned with the flame of righteousness. I wished for the calm black eyes of my father. It was of no use, my father had decided my fatethis is the man I would marry. It was the white man's way.
After he left that night, my mother built a fire down by the road. My father asked what was she doing? To light his way home, she said. She did not like Robert, so I did not understand why she would light his way back to me. It was a white mans fire, giving little heat but much light, and in it, she threw the berries of death. Then, she put the fire out very quickly, squelching it with dirt, smothering the flames that burned so brightly. And I understood that she had burned, and quickly buried his spirit, in the hopes that he would not return. My mother, you see, had seen my eyes, and my fear of this man. I was strangely drawn to him, but also repulsed. Would the war stoke the fire in his heart? Or would it burn itself out? I did not know, but could only wait.
And so, I waited. I helped my mother tend the garden. I wove the flax for our clothes. My mother taught me of the herbs and medicines I would need for marriage. I dried the deer meat; I walked between the trees, enjoying my freedom, and every Sunday, we went to the white mans church to learn of the white mans God, and to get the news of Robert. Robert could not write to me, nor I to him. Other members of the church had letters from their men, so I knew who lived or died. Robert had his own horse, so he signed with the 14 th Kentucky Calvary. He wore the blue coat of my familys tormenters.
He fought east of here, many days journey, against the gray coats. Those gray coats were as the fox that comes in the night to steal our chickensone moment the chickens squawk, the next all that is left is a pile of feathers. At night, I heard the dark people, as they slipped through our land, escaping their white masters. My mother left food for them, at the foot of the cliff, in the shadows. Somehow, she knew the sign to leave, to tell them of food and safety. She knew what it was like to be enslaved and hunted.
Robert came home from the war, four long years later. I was promised, so I waited until he came, or until I got word that he was dead. There was a man that I could have loved, but I kept myself pure for Robert, as God would wish. Did I love Robert? I did not know. There were parts of him that I could love, but there were parts of him that I could never understand. It is a difficult life, to have one foot in the Cherokee world, and one in the white mans world. My father had promised. So, we married.
Robert had saved his pay from the war, and bought this piece of land, miles from my mother and father. It is enough for a garden, a small field. There were no woods here. No cliffs. Only the white mans world. I put away my Cherokee dress, and made the white mans dresses, as your father told me to do. I bound my hair onto my head, as he told me to do. I learned the white mans ways, to swallow my pride of place, to be submissive.
Robert found my store of herbs and medicines, and burned them. Every Sunday, we went to the church, the place of hard benches, and listened to the fires of hell, as they raged outside the dark little church. I could not look out the window at the light, I must keep my eyes on the preachers face, else he would know I wasnt dutiful. Robert said that if I practiced the old ways, I would burn in hell forever. I could not weave the flax in the old way, but could only use the white mans loom. I must dye the cloth dark colors, tame my spirit, and be obedient in all things. I could not laugh, nor sing with joy, unless it was in praise of God.
I stayed silent. I could not bring myself to sing about the God without light.
Every year, the babies came. Sweet babies! But for them, I would have been lost. But each one took something from me. I knew what teas and medicines I should make, but I could not go to the forest and meadows to find them. Your father forbade it.
I never saw my parents again. The old way-- everyone lived in the village, the parents with the children and grandchildren. My parents never saw you, nor did you see them. They did not know the children of their blood. When they died, Robert received a letter from the neighbor. He would not read it to me. How could I not know my fathers last words? How could I not know my mothers last look? At least they did not see me in the white mans clothes, with white mans hair. What did I owe my parents? What did I owe my husband? What did I owe God? I do not know.
Louisa, my strength is leaving. I am like the flame in the hearth that burns too brightly, and will die too quickly, leaving few embers. When the time comes, find a good and decent man. Find a man with kindness in his heart. Remember that your heritage comes from me, your mother. Your father did not make you, Louisa, I did. Do not let the fires of tomorrows hell blind you to the sunlight of today. Take your strength from the woods and the shadows of the cliffs, for they are a part of us.
And now, my dearest daughter, I must rest, for I am very tired. Help your sister with the supper. I will be with you forever in your heart.
Nancy closed her eyes, and slept.
Epilogue:
That night, Nancys husband, Robert, cut her long, beautiful black hair to cut the fever. The next morning, with her family gathered around her bedside, Nancy died of pneumonia at the age of 35. Of their eight children, four were farmed out to Robert's sisters, except for Mary, who was old enough to keep house and the boys that could help him work the small family farm. My great-grandmother, Louisa was sent to Hawesville, KY to live with an aunt. She felt unwanted, and unloved.
Four years later, in 1884, Robert threw his son, John, out of his house for listening to fiddle music. John made his way to Hawesville, to be with his sister Louisa, living near her until his death. Robert shortly remarried, and started another family. As Louisas brothers, Morgan and William left home, they, too, joined their sister in Hawesville. Louisa found a good and decent man, with kindness in his heart. She never forgot her mother, nor her pride of place.
Note: The top right picture depicts the native dress very similar to the one in the picture of my great great grandmother. I have carefully put the picture, sandwiched between poster board and taped, and stuck it in a closet somewhere safe. Where? Well, nevermind. The feather bed mattress is exactly as I remember them, when I was a girl at my great-grandmother's house.
The Larue County Courthouse contains the records of my great-great-great grandparent's land, and of Nancy and Robert's marriage. Larue county is where Abraham Lincoln was born, in Hodgensville. Robert and Nancy's farm was in Hart County, near Elizabethtown.
A log cabin, similar to Nancy's and Roberts. The next picture is of the local boys that joined the 14th Kentucky Cavalry, and is in the museum at Elizabethtown, KY. I THINK my great-great grandfather is in the back row, 5th from the left. It looks like him, anyway, from the pictures posted by his second family...
Here is an article about the Kentucky 14th Cavalry, as they chased the confederate general John Hunt Morgan toward my other great-great grandparents. This regiment was attached to a group from Ohio. Is it coincidence that Mary, Nancy's oldest daughter moved to Ohio when she married her husband?
Here is an article about John Hunt Morgan and Morgan's Raiders, as they were known...
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Well, to me, this is a sad story. There was always an air of tragedy about poor Nancy. Up until Grandma Scherer passed away, her daughter, we had the long, luxurious hair, that was cut off the night before she died. My mother threw it away. (She said, ICK, and I guess I can't blame her. But, we don't have much that was hers, and it was a real Victorian thing to keep someone's hair...)
I have her cane-bottom rocker, but it needs caning. I don't dare sit in it. I have little else that was hers-- but, a love for cliffs, woods, and the wildflowers of KY. I, too, hang bells in the trees, or windchimes, so that the voices of my ancestors can speak with me. Perhaps it is fanciful-- but if any ancestor would call to me-- it would be Nancy, and her voice would be like the light tinkling of bells.
Wonderful story Dowser. My goodness, what a family history. Eastern Band of Cherokee, what stories they could tell.
Is this the first one after the intro piece? Nevermind, I just found the rest of them.
This is #3-- #2 is Luisa und Wilhelm in Hawesville!
I've done a lot of research, dear Kavika-- but I can't prove much. I know the Edlins owned their land in 1825-- about 6 years before the Trail of Tears. How did they get their land? I don't know, and only hope they didn't betray someone or do something bad...
I only wish I had known them, or even Grandma Scherer. She was a wonderful woman, with just a hint too much Fire-eating... Obviously, she got that from her Daddy. Funny how that is passed down...
She died tragically of pneumonia. My great-grandmother, Grandma Scherer, and her younger sister, Nancy, were farmed out to Robert's sisters, one of whom lived in Hawesville. When the younger Nancy died of puerperal fever after having her youngest child, Grandma Scherer took in all 4 of her girls and reared them as her own. Hence, I had wonderful cousins, that were like great-aunts: Minnie, Nancy, (I never knew her, she died in the 1920s), Annie, and Jane, the youngest, that I knew and loved deeply!!!
There is some part of me somewhere that is Nancy's.
I love her. Surely, she would accept this 1/16th bit of me as someone to love...
Dowser,
Do not let the fires of tomorrows hell blind you to the sunlight of today. Take your strength from the woods and the shadows of the cliffs, for they are a part of us.
I can't really add anything to that but for to say thank you.
With tears we pray, we cry, we weep
The Souls of Ancient times asleep
When, then shall our spirit partake
of the lightness that is ours? Awake.
That is so beautiful! Did you write it?
Someday, I'll know her.
Another great story. A great sad story. You know they are good when you hate it when they end. Very nice imagery along side as well.
The only claim to Indian blood that I know of in our family is from my brother's wife. She is related to Alexander McGillivray who was a Scots/French/Indian and Chief of the Creeks during the revolution.
There was a great rift amongst the Cherokee before and during the Late Misunderstanding. Stand Watie, or Standhope Uwatie, and his band fought for the south. He was in fact the last Confederate General to surrender. Anyhow, the conflict continued when the Watie group headed to Oklahoma.
Sadly, the Cherokee did indeed have slaves.
Your fambly histories rock.
Thanks for the John Hunt Morgan link. He was a homeboy.
Dowser, this one made me cry also. It seems that I am turning into a big old crybaby what with you and Kavika. But they are tears of peace, so I don't worry about them. Thank you for the great history, please keep it coming!
Please put all your stories together and get them published. They are a treasure trove of information and history. Everyone should be able to read these stories.
I second that motion!
I would love that! I would love to read everyone's stories!!!
Yes, Just then. It went directly from my brain to my keyboard then off to NT.
Well, it is very very beautiful! Thanks, Brolly, for sharing it!
Oh, this is so very touching! Perhaps I find it particularly so since I have just recently recovered from pneumonia myself. I am very glad that the herbal medicines are no longer considered as "heathen ways." I was able to obtain a number of herbs which seemed to do me more good than some of the medicines I also took. Of course I was on antibiotics for several days, but I was able to reduce, then eliminate the cough medicine with the herbs, which helped produce a loose and productive cough, and enabled me to rest well. I am convinced that they helped me heal, and feel so sorry that Nancy, although she knew the herbal medicines, was not able to used them.
Thanks for sharing this, Dowser. You expressed it so well.
Robert Trumbo is my gg grandfather's brother. His younger brother John is my gg grandfather. So wonderful to read this story. The mother of Robert, George, John is Susan Trumbo. Do you know the name of Roberts father? It is a mystery..
Thank you, Jo!!! I love her, even if I don't know her!
I will look!!! Oh my gosh! FAMILY!!!!
My mother just passed away, and my son and I are the only ones left of our branch. Tell me, is this Robert, as an old man?
This was carefully saved in my G-grandmother's bible, so he's important. I am thinking these are Uncle Morg's children. Uncle Morgan was her younger brother, also farmed out after Nancy's death... I know they are not my grandfather and Uncle Louie!
MY gosh. Family. I am astonished and amazed. I haven't pursued the Trumbo side of the family much-- only because I've been searching for Nancy. PLEASE keep in touch! Please please please. Other than my son, there is no one left in my family.
I have a lot of my g-grandmother's stuff. Her cast iron kettle, tea pot, skillet, baking dishes, her chair, her quilts, etc. and all kinds of stuff. I'll try to scan in her picture, so you can see her!
Louisa was beloved by her in-laws. Her father-in-law, my gg-grandpa Scherer, trusted her so much, he gave her, via courthouse papers, all he possessed, in return for her taking care of him in his old age and burying him properly. She was a very good woman. You would have loved her, as I do.
My depiction of Robert may be unfair to him as a person-- but you have to understand, he was loved, feared, and he farmed his children out. They were, perhaps naturally, upset. She went to live with an aunt. I don't know who! Do you know which state Robert's family came from?
Thank you so much for this post!!!
Dowser....I just love reading your stories.....from dinggies to your family history, they are all fun to read. Unfortunately I don't have such a history,...My parents originally came here from Ireland and I was the first in out family to be born on US soil back in '43.....so while my brothers and I are forever written in the history books it just isn't as an interesting story as yours is.......but I did get to be on the Ed Sullivan Show once,..if that counts for anything.....
That counts for a lot!!!
Everybody's family is interesting! Think of what your family saw, in Ireland... Think of their courage when they started a new and different life here in the US...
Go digging, and you'll be amazed!
Dowser....there is not that much history in potato farming....
.....but thats not to say I haven't had a VERY exciting life,..its just that mine wont sound as exciting as yours does for another hundred years or so.....
I've found what is on Ancestry.com! Other than that, it is difficult, at best, to find out which church to look in...
I found my grandparents marriage certificate in a suitcase full of family pictures and clippings... I had no idea where they had married, other than the minister that married them had baptized my Grandmother. Now, I have his name, the church, etc. Sometimes, finding out where to look is as difficult as finding the item itself.
So glad that you enjoyed it! Thanks, very much, for coming by!
This was one of a series of stories, all about KY in the Civil War-- different parts of my family experienced both sides of the conflict, which is appropriate for the state.
I can't seem to find them... I'll have to look and put a link here.
Kentucky in the Civil War series--
Mary's Dinner
Louisa and Willhelm
Sophronia's Crazy Quilt
Emma's Affidavit
Plus this one: Nancy's Fire
I would say that there is a LOT of history in potato farming... Also, a lot of us would enjoy reading about your own history-- I know I would!!!
Much love to you!
Im really excited as well! I did make a mistake Robert Trumbo is my g grandfathers brother, not gg. I do have lots of stuff just hadn't been back in it in years. Would love to meet with you some time. I have a couple of pictures of John dont know if that is Robert or not. I will get back with you!
I simply love your writing. Whether its tending to the water needs of others or the gift of coffee, placed next to a tree, for a shadowy figure watching over that undertaking. The Dowser way draws you in, even when describing tears. Thanks for sharing.
There's a lot to be said for "heathen ways" ...
Thank you, dear One. Nancy's story has always waited for me. I asked my Grandfather to tell me about her, and he did, as best as he could. Grandpa loved his mother very much, and knew of Nancy's character, through his own mother. How I wish I could have known them.
Take care, dear friend.
Yes there are. I have a feeling that she knew things that I can only guess about. How I wish I could talk with her!
Oh my gosh. I am astounded!!! And you're in Franklin, KY, one of my favorite places!
We camp at Cave Country RV in Cave City-- so we are near by.
Generations are difficult to keep track of... I would love to see John's pictures! I have a good picture of Nancy's daughter, Louisa and her husband, Louis Hermann Scherer.
Thank you, so very much, for saying something and for being so very kind! We have Trumbo kin in Kansas, that I met in 1963. But I have no way of knowing even who they were, or how to find them. I can't even remember their names, other than they were Trumbos. I was 7.5 years old.
I have been given a great gift, and I thank you!!!
We have to get together sometime in Hodgenville Ky. I love my uncles George and Mac Trumbo (that lives in LaRue co.)and they would love to meet you. I have one Trumbo aunt Diane . Sadly I have lost several of my uncles and an aunt. They have the stories. Another uncle is Stokley he lives in Il. they are all good people. My mom Dortha Trumbo Smith lives here in franklin close to me. I have copies of George and Roberts pension papers from the civil war and other documents. I just got to dig them out. If you like to ride horses my uncle George has plenty!
Oh my gosh!! I would love to scan them in as documents on my computer! I will also send you scans of what I have!
I would love to meet any and all of your aunts and uncles and try to figure out who is who... With your help, of course! Oh please, let's get together! Hodgenville is a lovely place! I would love to go with you, and maybe see whatever we can find about them. And I would truly enjoy meeting your family!
I am 58 years old, going on 59, and have a son that is turning 16 this year, my only child. My husband works at Swope Automotive Group, and I have a lovely step-daughter, who is living in Hazard, KY, while her husband is in school. I work as a hydrogeologist, the Wellhead Protection Coordinator for the Louisville Water Company. Maybe you would know which sister Robert sent Louisa to live with in Hawesville-- I've always wanted to know.
Mary Trumbo Dean, Louisa's 12 year old sister at the time of this story, died in 1906, in southern Indiana, near Cannelton. Her four daughters, Minnie, Nancy, Annie, and Jane came to live with Louisa and grew up with my Grandpa, Edwyn Robert Scherer and his older brother Louis Wilhelm Scherer. Grandpa was 8 years old and in the melee, was allowed to name the baby, since Mary died when Jane was only 6 weeks old. He named her Stella Anna Edna, and it shouldn't have been allowed. Nancy died in the 1920s, but I knew Minnie, Annie, and of course, dear Jane through my childhood.
I was born long after all of Louisa's brothers and sisters had passed away-- but my mother met John, Robert, and Morgan. Mama always spoke highly of Uncle Morg, who was a very kind man. She seemed to think that Uncle John, Robert's eldest, was a sad man.
I really hope that we can get together-- it would mean everything to me to find some of my long lost family! Aunt Lou, as my great grandmother was known, was a very special, loving person who knew that her daughter-in-laws, both Methodists, were going straight to the fires of Hell... Oh well-- they loved her, anyway! She was a good woman who gave her only winter coat to the Russians during one of their great upheavals. I thought it was WWI, but before she died, Mama said it was WWII. I have a lot of her cast iron cookware, her quilts, her tin coffee pot, and many other personal items that were hers.
When I was a girl, Grandpa and I drove to Hawesville to mow Jane's lawn every week. I miss her so much-- her first husband came home from WWI, gassed and with TB, and then the 1918 flu finished him off. She faced a long widow-hood, and finally remarried in 1954, after Grandma Scherer died, to Bill McConnell, who was a marine in the Pacific Theater. I loved him, too. He passed in 1960, Jane in 1969.
Perhaps we can fill in gaps for each other, and I'll finally be able to meet my family! How MARVELOUS!!!
Randy, thank you so much for this wonderful gift of family!!!
I'm sure I've shared it with you, but, I have had a familial walk through Kentucky too. We kept going though. It started in Mercer Co. in 1805 progressing through Nelson, Shelby, Bullitt, Spencer & Muhlenberg. I seems like a lot of movement, however, the first four are actually the same piece of land, except the county boundaries changed. One of their big moves was from Spencer to Muhlenberg in 1854.
I don't have or write stories like yours, but I do try and tie in history, locally if possible. Just to give it a little flair. A biography published in 1887, described my third great grandfather as a member of the "Dunker's Church". Which sent me on a very interesting research journey through early Kentucky religious development. Thanks again.
In Emma's Affidavit, she meets with Mercer Coombs, who is a combination of the great political families of Mercer and Coombs. We may be related!! Both Mercer and Coombs were governors of the state at one time or another... It wasn't too hard to figure out who was judge in Harrodsburg during the war. I know he knew Emma, because she was the only female attorney.
And no, it seems normal-- we don't leave the state much, we just move around in it, a lot. And of course, the boundary lines have kept changing, as some counties became too big to handle... I love Mercer County-- a great place! And Oh My Gosh, Shelby and Bullitt Counties are right here, and Muhlenberg County is not far from my home in Owensboro...
The Dunker's Church! I'd love to know what that was!
I as I researched it, I bumped into a historian of the Brethren church. Very nice fellow. He was attempting to put it all together farther back than the early 1800's. He used a variety of sources, church document, books, county records, etc. It was amazing how he collected anything he could find that named people he knew were of Brethren origin. Some came down the Ohio on rafts, others via the Cumberland gap from the Carolina's.
This man has published some of his work at the Church of the Brethren (COB) site here . It's a power point presentation, but there are also links to some other interesting research he shares. At least, there used to be.
There was a connection to the main church body in Germantown, Pa, which is near where I live now. These Ky Brethren, he called them Frontier Brethren, were in some way connected to Squire Boone, brother of Daniel. They were a pacifist people and found it hard to live in an area where the whites and the local natives were so hostile towards one another.
My historian friend described their religious foundation as pietist. As I understood this, there were not too many churches during this point in Ky history. The Brethren got together in their homes to worship. Eventually, others were included in the gatherings. However, this did not sit well with the eastern brethren of the Germantown organization. The frontier Brethren were shunned and moved mostly north of the Ohio river as the frontier expanded.
My 3rd great grandfather was one of the people they included and as they moved away the religious experienced he had come to know moved with them. The move to Muhlenberg was to get closer to one of the remaining Brethren communities left in Ky.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. All that was based on one statement, "..he was a member of the Dunker's Church", that and the research of a brethren historian.
WOW, that's interesting! My gggg grandfather Bruce built the first Methodist church in KY in 1812 in Henry Co, KY... It was still standing up until year before last...
Most of the Methodist churches I've seen are brick. It's no wonder it's still up. And that same Brethren historian described the vacuum made by there leaving as opportunity for the the Baptists and the Methodist Episcopal, etc.
You might want to consider a genealogical research too. Little diddy's might just fuel more of the story. I'll try and find some more links to his KY research.
His was hand sawed log, covered over with board in the 1850s... It was neat-- Weren't the Brethren churches a part of the Methodist church? Seems to me that's why we're "United"... I'm hazy on all that, I must admit!
I'm no authority either Dowser. I do try to pay attention as often as I can though.
I believe we are talking about the same thing, a common history, IMO. Not all the Brethren removed from Ky after being banned by the eastern Brethren. Some liked where they had made a new life and resigned to new church influence, for example the baptists. While the Brethren/Baptists retained some of the old ways, they also changed with the times. I can't prove why, but there are certain similarities in the sacraments, like baptism. The Brethren performed trine immersion baptism, "dunking" three times, some Baptists used the nearby river to evangelize. Of course, I'm probably over simplifying my description of it.
RootsWeb has a discussion board for everything, where I discovered the Brethren historian, Merle Rummel. Wouldn't you know, looking for this for you, I read the names of my 3rd great grand parents in one of his discussions about Brethren family migration from the Carolina's. I really must reconnect with Mr. Rummel, this could be more information, farther back than I currently know. I only know that he reported his birth in SC on the Ky census' of 1850 & 1860. Here is the Brethren message board link.
I've been looking for a particular link about the Methodists too. Without much luck though. If I'm correct, the Methodist Episcopal Church split over the issue of slavery in the 1840's. Long before the Civil War divided the rest of the country. They reunited later.
This is paraphrased, but from the movie 'Fried Green Tomatoes'. "They are not dead. They live, because we remember" Peace to you and yours Dowser.
Here is what I will do. I will talk with my uncles and Aunt. we will work out a date and place to meet. My uncle Mac has a church that is located on his land, his son is the pastor, we have had events at the church before. It would probably be best that I gather all doc and pictures and let you take what you want to with you you can make copies and mail mine back. I know the Edlins are still there I have met some at different events. I will ask my uncles to gather some of them for the visit. If memory serves me correctly Robert married twice? also had moved to Tell City Ind. I hope I'm not getting George Trumbo mixed up with him. Also Robert had a name change I think. Kinda complicated. ok I will get started on a date we all can live with!
Oh yes please get DNA test done through "23 and me". It will amaze you. cost $99.00
I have the kit in my pile of things to do! I will dig it out and get busy! Also, I'm going through 7 suitcases of clippings, pictures, etc., and maybe I'll find something!
I think this is a very fine idea and I would love to meet at the church. Yes, Robert remarried and had 4-5 more children. I'll try to bring my scanner with me, and we can all scan all the goodies that anyone wants. What fun!
Oh my, the Edlins are still there? That would be wonderful! I really look forward to this! You pick a date, and I'll be there.
Thank you so much!
My daddy was an Edlin but was adopted by his mother's parents and took their last name. He had Cherokee in him from both sides of his family because his middle name was Flint but that came from his mother's side. He had black hair til the day he passed away in his 63rd year (in 2014) and had no body hair other than a mustache and tan skin that came from the Indian in him.
I remember him telling me that a full blooded Cherokee Indian princess was supposedly part of his family history somewhere but I've never been up to Kentucky to research any of it in depth to see if it was true.
I do know Edlin was a white last name brought over from an English settler or some such that traveled from Virginia (if I remember correctly) to Kentucky somehow and acquired land there and an Edlin family historian saying all Edlins in Kentucky were related..... How interesting to find a story like this on google though.
Although I remember my mother (or my dad, I forget) telling me that his father's side of the family were like the black sheep of their family in La Rue and Harlan County or however you spell it.....
But I've never heard of Trumbo obviously given that my father was raised by his maternal side.
Sorry to intrude on your story. Its lovely by the way.
I'm just now seeing your comment from over a month ago! Please forgive me for not watching more closely!
That is fascinating-- We may be distantly related!!! How wonderful!
I'm finding cousins all over the state, and very happy about it!
dowser, we ARE related. my husband's ggggrandfather was robert's brother john. some of us in the family have been working on the tree for many years. we cannot figure out who robert's father was or where his mother susan came from or who she really was. i notice your article discusses robert attending church. do you know which church? would there be any church records? would love to discuss w you off line if you have any info!
Julie, that's fabulous! I don't know which church he attended, but his daughter, my great grandmother was Baptist. Staunchly Baptist. I've not been able to go back see the father, nor his mother, either. But it was a lot easier to live totally off the radar back then. I don't know which church, or if there are any records anywhere...
YES, let's get together and have a conversation! I'd love it, dear cousin!