Callaway Family Association Blog

The Callaway Family Association was formed in 1975 to study the genealogy of the Callaway Surname (all spellings). Members can be found from Australia to England to Canada to the United States and number almost 600 strong. Discussions related to Callaway Genealogy are welcome here and this Blog was created for that purpose. The Callaway Family Tree Branches May Reach Out, But the Roots Run Deep.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Memories of a Nebraska Childhood

Lone Pine, CA
October 1984

Memories of a Nebraska Childhood
by Elizabeth Callaway

I remember my childhood and youth as a time of long, quiet days, in a leisurely cycle of seasonal activities. I was surrounded by my immediate family (father, mother, 2 older brothers) and a web of relatives (grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins through the third degree) and the knowledge of two or three generations past who were referred to and talked about.

My father's parents were Confederates (Missouri and Virginia) and had each homesteaded in Jefferson County, they were the first couple to be married in the county. They had 4 sons and 4 daughters, all of whom lived to adulthood (one son, my mother's first husband, died at 32. None of the family lives in Jefferson County now (1984).

My mother's parents were from the East; my grandmother was born in Pennsylvania. My mother and her 2 older sisters were from the first marriage; a half-sister and half-brother from a second. One sister taught school and put herself through college (Univ. of Chicago I believe) with a Master's degree and never married, living in Washington DC. The brother left early, but the others stayed to be part of the matrix in which I existed. Now, none live there.

Father: Charles Browning Callaway born 1 April 1885; died 22 Dec 1970.
Mother: Elizabeth Henderson Callaway born 14 Dec 1878; died 4 Jan 1967.

Father's parents:
Congrave Clinton Callaway born 1835; died 1932
Elizab Browning Callaway born 1841; died 1919

Mother's parents:
John Henderson dates unknown (he was a Confederate, and a machinist)
Mary Ann Powell Henderson (later Morris) born 10 Feb 1848; died 25 Oct 1935

My mother, in her first marriage, had two sons; Congrave Clinton (the 3rd of that name) and Marion Henderson who died in 1936. Three years a widow, she married my father; I was born 25 Dec 1917.

When I was born, the family lived on a rented farm "the Chambers' Place"; within the year they purchased Meadowvue Farm, five miles north of Fairbury. When "the boys" were ready to go to high school the family rented the farm out, and moved into town (rather than have the boys board in town). For 3 or 4 years we lived in "the house at the Fairgrounds", on an acreage; this land is now part of the Fairground area. Before I started school, at 5, we moved to "the house north of town", an acreage. While I was in college, the folks moved back to Meadowvue; in the 1950s the various mortgages and loans were paid off.

A quarter-section of Meadowvue pastureland is still in my name; native prairie grasses with the ruts of the Oregon Trail still showing.

My Confederate Grandfather

A grade school teacher recommended a movie showing currently at the theater, and my father agreed to take me. Later my mother said something to the effect of "you should really appreciate what your father did for you". I accepted the judgment, and years after realized what it had meant: my father, son of a Confederate soldier, and during whose boyhood Abraham Lincoln was never named in the family, had taken me to a movie about Abraham Lincoln.

My grandfather had been born in Missouri, in a family who had lived below the Mason Dixon line since its arrival on the Virginia shores in the early 1700s. As a matter of course, at the outbreak of the War Between the States, he joined the Missouri Cavalry. One of the family heirlooms (which disappeared into the limbo that old things tend toward) was a frying pan, with a long handle (30 inches perhaps) with a crook in the handle, that had been used to cook over fires in camps during the war.

Grandfather had been a captain, and I remember only 2 stories that Father repeated to me. At one time, some soldier in Grandfather's command had an unruly horse that threatened to become unmanageable. When the soldier was unable to handle the horse, Grandfather whittled spurs out of forked twigs and rode the horse into submission.

For the second tale, the cavalry troop was in a patch of woods surrounded by Union soldiers. Although they were out of supplies, there were wild hogs running in the woods. Either they did not want to shoot the hogs because of giving away their position, or because they were low on ammunition; Grandfather arranged for some of the men to drive the hogs down a path in the brush, and he killed a hog with a rock. And that may have been a more difficult feat than can be pictured by anyone who has not handled hogs.

After the War, Grandfather moved to Nebraska to homestead. He married a young woman from Vifginia, Eliza Browning, whose family had been burned out during Sherman's march to the sea. The family had come through Cumberland Gap in a wagon, with the household things they could rescue, to homestead eventually in Jefferson County. The family menu listed hot biscuits three times a day. Sixty years later, I went off to college ignorant of the fact that anyone could survive on breakfast that did not include hot biscuits and gravy.

In my Grandfather's bedroom, a framed reproduction of a mural showing General Robert E. Lee hugn over the head of the bed, with a silk stars and stripes flag tucked behind the frame. But the music book on th ebiano in the parlor was always left open at the page for "Dixie".

Grandfather and Grandma "neighbored" with the German farmers, immigrants from the Old Country. The other homesteaders were all "Union" people.

When my grandfather died, aged 96, in the early 1930s, he was buried in the Fairbury cemetery. The local American Legion unio furnished a color guard, and a squad who fired a volley (salute ?) over the grave, and a bugler who plays Taps. I heard murmurs of appreciation from the family (50 strong). Much later I realized that this part of the ceremony was a sign that the Civil War was indeed over.

The funeral ceremony was conducted in the house, grandfather's body lay in the bedroom where he died, until the undertaker took it to the town mortuary. Then the body in the grey casket was in the parlor.

Shadow
a dark figure or image cast . . . by a body
intercepting light; a specter or ghost


Journey in late afternoon
Child-me half asleep against the window
watches shadow of the car sliding
along roadside grass
Shadow-shape stretches out
leaping far across the pastureland
scratches over alfalfa stubble and
at the road-cut tucks close again

End of another distant day when Sun
sinks near the west horizon
Crossing Kearsarge Pass
I step quickly toward the east
eager to be moving on the trail
that drops abruptly
down this faulted granite slope
Sunlight from behind me throws
transparent silhouette before my boots
my own shadow a threat of coming night

I see the roadhead
hours below at that level where
jagged shadow-pattern of Sierra peaks
at this moment floods out
across the desert floor
staining ocher earth to dusky mauve

Ice-storm tears down the Powerline
denies our farmhouse electricity and light
Dark thickens in room-corners
Yellow gleam of kerosene lamp on supper table
throws our shadows up all four walls
and across the kitchen ceiling
As we move and lean
above our meal
the shadows move
Elizabeth Callaway
November 2000

He was a tall, straight-backed old man who died at 96 when I was in High School. He had fought in the Civil War, in Pierce's (Army), and was a Captain in a cavalry unit. His parents and theirs had moved west from the Virginia coast, a generation at a time, through Kentucky, Tennessee, to Missouri.

After the war, when Grandfather's mother died (his father had been killed by a group of raiders, a civilian) he moved to Nebraska. Drove a wagon pulled by oxen, with a milk cow tied behind, up the Oregon Trail, accompanied by a friend who homesteaded near him. Any milk leftover from the evening and morning meals was put in a jug and tied to the wagon axle. . .would have butter churned in it by night. Two chairs (little ladder backs with woven seats that were in his house had been tied on the outsides of the wagon. . .and the knobs at the top of the uprights were worn smooth from the rubbing against the wagon.

He chose his farm on the basis of the grass, in Jefferson County, which came to his knees as he rode horseback. This was native prairie grass, of course, adapted beautifully to shallow soil and bitter climate. . .and his farm turned out to be gravel hills (glacier outwash, no doubt). The family always mourned that he had looked at the land in the Blue River Valley (we were on the Little Blue), and passed it up because it had alkali patches. . .but later turned out to make fortunes for the Bohemian farmers who moved into it.

Grandfather said the Little Blue was clear and blue, and that he could see the bottom. . .In 1930s especially before the flood control projects, it ran brown mud.

When Grandfather (his name was Congrave Clinton Callaway. . .and he was called Con or Uncle Con or Cousin Con) chose his quarter section, it was one with a spring. He and his friend (Mr. Ehrett ?) went to the west to the 40th Meridian, located a marker, and after tying a rag onto the wagon wheel, drove east counting revolutions of the wheel. They located their quarter-sections in this fashion, but Grandfather missed his spring by 10 feet.

He and Mr. Ehrett lived in the same one-room cabin until Grandfather married. . .they hauled lumber from the mill in Fairbury.

Grandfather told his 8 children that they must go to school to learn to read, write, and cypher. . because it had been a handicap to him not to be able to do these things. My aunts always read the paper to him. His English was perfact, his accent soft and southern, and my mother, boarded there when she was a schoolteacher in the district, said he never failed to stand when a woman came into the room. Even when he was forced to use a cane.

He sat, when I knew him, in a big wooden chair with leather seat, in a corner of the front room (the original one-room cabin), next to the big front window. . .and next to the base-burner stove in the winter.

Night Time
The quiet house hold no light
only warm dark comfortable around me

I wake easily out of dense sleep
lying curled on the narrow cot in the pantry
The open window beside me
is a dim square of not-quite black

Faint smell of kerosene
from the glass jug in the summer stove
drifts from the dark kitchen
mingles with the scent of dry grass
on night air that sifts
whispering through the window screen

Beyond the pantry wall
thin song of coyotes
floats like smoke across the hills

Endless melancholy mixed with love
coyotes singing
limestone prairie
my Aunt Etta

Etta was the oldest of the 8 Callaway children, my father, Charles was the youngest. Etta & my Uncle Ralph Gray lived in the Rose Creek Hills - South of Fairbury, near the Kansas/Nebraska line. I stayed w/ them sometimes, in the summer - & I loved it.

My grandmother Morris, my mother's mother

Mary Ann Powell married John Henderson, married a Mr. Morris. She died at 76; even in the last years full of vigor and intensity.

A little, neatly built woman with bright blue eyes (the kind where the iris is webbed with more intense colored thread), and grey hair wound up like a crown on top of her head. When grandmother brushed her hair, it hung to her hips; the ends (last 6 inches) and the hair at the nape of her neck was chestnut.

Her favorite was my brother Marion, whose personality was too acid for the average bystander, but whom grandmother met as an equal. However, she was a good grandparent to me. . .given to clicking a noisy, "mouthy" child on the head with the thimble finger (she was sweing a great deal of the time; had done hand-sewing for a tailor), but generous unexpectedly, which may be when a child appreciates it most.

The last few years of her life, she lived in rooms in various places in Fairbury. . .older houses, where one opened the front door, walked up the dark stairway, and knocked on grandma's door-to the accompaniment of dust kicked out of the worn carpet and the smell of heated canned spaghetti for lunch.

Grandma went to the City Library often. I remember as a high school student being astounded when she picked up a novel I was reading, and talked about it. She had read it a month or two before.

When I was in Junior High School, she went off somewhere (in Kansas ?) to a faith healer, to the horror of my mother and my aunts. She described vividly, on her return the "current" she felt when the healer put his hand on her head. I have no idea what was her complaint, since I think she died in bed of general old age, and I was off in college. She had been staying with my aunt Alma at the time; I remember being deeply moved by the information that Aunt Alma and my mother had prepared her body for the mortician. The funeral procession (I went home from school for the funeral, some time in the winter) drove from Wymore to Fairbury, some 30 miles.

Grandma had been born in Bucks (Berks ?) county, Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania Dutch) with a name, Hoopengartner, in the family (Mother corresponded with an Elizabeth Hoopengartner, for years. I've wondered if Mother was named Elizabeth after this woman?) She told her own children that as a girl she had hidden in the bushes and watched birds, trying to figure out why they were different in appearance and habits. After her mother died, her father, Sam Powell, and his 5 or 6 children moved to Iowa and then to Norton County, Kansas. He re-married (to a widow Hall) and the relationships of the various half-brothers and -sisters and their children made a fascinating puzzle to a visiting cousin. They were all faintly red-headed, "sandy" we called that hair and skin color.

Grandma survived, in one way or another, two husbands. Mother said one of her early memories was going, with her younger half-sister Alma (a toddler) down the steps into the dark basement of the Merchants Hotel, in Fairbury. She remembered walking between the sheets hanging on drying lines, to grandma who was washing sheets on a washboard - heavily pregnant with her last child at the time.

When Mother was a country school teacher she went home weekends, and her sisters, too, to the "house on A Street." Grandma ran a boarding house (no rooms to let, just meals), noted for good food. Railroad men (Fairbury was a Division point on the Rock Island RR; train crews "laid over" in town) signed a list hoping for the privilege of eating at Mrs. Morris' boarding house.

She had long tables for the boarders. Served fired eggs (soft) on stacks of pancakes (not hot cakes, said they were different) to conserve on butter. Made jelly glasses out of bottles and jars by soaking a string in kerosene, tying string around the bottle, setting the string on fire and then dipping the bottle into a tub of cold water. Mother said, on summer weekends, they (g-ma, and daughters) would have marvelous water fights in the backyard. Their well was one where the bucket was lowered on a rope; every cupful of thrown water had been earned!

She had 4 daughters: Lola, Bertha, Elizabeth (Lizzie), and Alma, and one son, Frank. All the women were unique, intelligent and aggressive. Frank had a "bad name" for which I never had an explanation. He lived in Chicago at one time, had been a clown with Barnum and Bailey Circus; moved onto grandma's farm in Canada (in Alberta ?) later, in the 1930s.

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Friday, March 20, 2009

Edith Mary Lemon Chambers-Kellaway Memoirs


EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY
MEMOIRS (Written 1981-1984)

I was born on Sept 24, 1889 in Hastings – a suburb of Calcutta in Bengal in what was then British India. This was where grandfather, my mother’s father lived with his family of four sons and two daughters. Mother’s brother Arthur and Flo her next sister had been educated in England and had just returned to India. The next three sons were in college in Calcutta and the youngest daughter Dora was in boarding school at (Nainital)?

When I was three months old mother took me to Jhansi where father was stationed. I remember nothing naturally for the next two or three years but then we three returned to Calcutta where father has been posted. Now we had our own home, a bungalow with verandas on three sides and a large compound with out houses for the living quarters of the servants and the kitchen.

My mother having lived in India all her life, spoke fluent Hindustan and always supervised the making of pickles, chutneys, sauces and jams etc. The native cooks were wonderful and make the most tasty and appetizing dishes. Mother always went to the market and did the shopping. A coolie was hired at the gates and carried the parcels in a flat round basket on his head. Oh yes mother got to the market in a hired ghosty and when she was finished shopping another one was hired and the parcels put in. The coolie paid and she returned home and gave over the materials for the day’s meal to the Bhoji (cook). We had several servants as the caste system prevents one caste from doing another caste's work (like the unions) Besides the cook we had his mate a houseboy, a table boy, a mail (the gardener), and of course my precious Ayah. We loved each other very much and I spoke Hindi before I spoke English.

Our washroom arrangements were very primitive and were looked after by the Mehta and his (wife?) A large tub of water stood in a cemented portion of the bathroom where there was an outlet for the water to run off and one just stood and dripped a tin pot in the tub and shower. No hot water was ever needed! Sometimes a snake would be found coiled up on the cool cement floor! I should imagine that by this time my sister Sylva had arrived, she was two and a half years younger than I. Ayah would now have 2 babes to care for and love. I rather think the ayah had a room next to ours, she would only need a charboy (native camp bed) to sleep on, she would of course eat in the servants quarters as her caste would not allow her to eat our food and indeed use any of our utensils. I never remember any but the one Ayah and in fact my mother’s servants seem to be with her forever. If one of them wanted to go to his mulak (village) he would get a brother or cousin to keep his place for him until he got back.
Before I close this part of my tale I must say a little about our daily routine. Chote hazari (little breakfast) about 6:30am, mainly fruit eaten in the veranda, and what a variety, guavas, custard, apples, melon, oranges, plantains (bananas) and a big grapefruit like thing with pink sections (pomelos) like an orange, delicious and of course the tea for the grownups and I expect milk for me. Then hagari ( breakfast) Tiffin? (lunch) chiefly curry and rice and for me what the cook called plish plash(chicken and rice done up with white sauce, sounds awful but I guess I liked it. No tea time that I can remember but dinner, generally something roasted fresh each night. I guess I had bread and milk! I have no idea of the activities of the day but I expect I played about and I am sure listened to endless Indian fairy tales told by Ayah.

Two other things before I leave this phase of my life. The riot of flowers in the garden but none that I can remember as being suitable for vases indoors, also the verandas were hung with curtains made of a grass like substance called Khms khmstatis? and which where watered by the mali (gardener) scented the air as it blew through them.

Part II EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY, memoirs

In the first part of my story I have recorded my life as it had been told me at various times by various people. From now on I shall depend a great deal on my own memories.

We moved from our bungalow nearer to the city and to a house. I know it had a second story because I can remember most vividly mother coming downstairs in her evening dress with her ostrich feather fan hanging from her wrist. Mother and father went out quite a lot, chiefly I think to theatrical events. Both were keen in the theater. Companies came out from England daring the cold weather, some with plays and others variety companies. Father wrote reviews for one of the papers so we had free seats. I think I saw my first play, The Sign of the Cross, when I was about 8 years old. Father loved entertaining the casts and one popular way was to have a launch and sail down to the Hoogli river to the sanderbunds where it met the Ganges and formed a great estuary of sandbanks. The banks on either side were jungle and filled with the chattering of monkeys.

About this time there was a change in family arrangements, my grandfather married again, a young woman, young enough to be his daughter, in fact she had been a bridesmaid to my mother. Uncle Arthur and Auntie Flo, the two next in age to mother, left home and Auntie Flo came to live with us. She had been educated in England and was very talented, she painted and played the piano (this extremely well) and how I first became conscious of music. Mother had a beautiful voice and there was constant singing in the house with Auntie accompanying mother. Auntie could read practically anything at sight.

Mother and Auntie rode every morning, mother being stout had to mount from a chair and I well remember one morning the horse kicking over the chair. There was great consternation among the servants but I don’t think mother was hurt. She still paid her daily visit to the market and I went along sometimes.

With the coming of Auntie Flo into the family I am sure I was beginning to have lessons, she was the clever one of the family and had as I have mentioned been educated in England. I suppose otherwise we just played about and had an afternoon sleep. I expect to what pish pash had been taken over by a mild curry and rice or rather dahl and rice (dahl was lentils). After 4 o’clock Ayah and one of the younger house boys would take us in a hired gharry to the maidan - a large common where all the children played. The boys flew kites helped by their young servants. The sky was full of kites of all colors and sizes. The maidan and Eden Gardens were on one side of a wide red road called Chowringhee. The Hoogli River ran along the other side. Chowringhee was the place for everyone to take the air and listen to the Band from the gardens. About six o’clock we went home and had supper and went to bed. I should imagine that I was about 7 or 8 and Sylvia 5.

One evening Uncle Harry a bachelor friend of the family came along in his dog cart, took us children into town to eat ice cream, the first in India. Ayah had taken off our frocks and we were in our petticoats but Uncle Harry didn’t notice and I don’t think we cared, but Ayah was horrified.

I suspect we had the usual childish complaints. I know we had the mumps because at the house there was a total eclipse of the sun and Sylvia was too sick to watch it. I went out with all the others with our smoked glasses.

A familiar sight in Indian houses was the Dhirzee (tailor) he would sit out on a sheet on one of the verandas with the machine at his feet, a billow of white muslin and fine calico billows around. He made all our clothes and could copy a dress or other garment from a picture.

I must insert this as there are one or two I want to mention. Mother and father went to the odd government house functions and one when Lord Curzon? was Viceroy. I was asked to a birthday party of one of his daughters, Lady Cynthia I think, the youngest who became Lady Cynthia Choseley. I had no dress grand enough mother thought, so she got the Dhirzee to cut up one of her evening dresses, I expect it was very grand and probably covered in lace.

There were no shoe shops, all the footwear was made by china men, to order. There was one street in Calcutta for these wonderful shoemakers.
We always wore sashes and I remember when grandfather died they were black.

One of the houses we lived in was next to the lodge. Father was an ardent freemason and was worshipful master for a spell while we were there. Mother used to lend Chedi our cook for their banquets and he brought back some of the luscious desserts for the babas.

Auntie Dora, Mother's youngest sister, stayed with us for the holidays, she was teaching music in her old school in Naini Tal and used to go over to the lodge and play on the big organ there and I always went with her.

We went to the hills for the hot weather and one other of the stations Gom Kurseong or to Darjeeling the longest and highest. These stations were in the foothills of the Himalayas and we could see Mount Everest and Kinchinjenga quite distinctly. The hills were our perfect paradise, waterfalls everywhere and the eternal snows in the distance. It took two days and one night from Calcutta. We went by train and then in a ferry across the very wide river and the last part into the hills themselves in a little mountain train drawn by an immensely powerful engine. The carriages were like light open train cars wound up and up and round hairpin bends we could lean across and shake hands with people in the cars round the bend before or after. The various paths up the hillsides were covered with bushes with wild berries of every kind. There were wild animals, panthers and bears but only the bears came down where the bungalows were. They would snuffle about at night looking for food in the rubbish bins. We used to be afraid but they never harmed us. The waterfalls ended as big pools with masses of wild flowers which one could not pick as some would be covered with leeches - I know - I picked some once!

We stayed about three months in the hills and then back home to Calcutta. While in the hills I suppose we had local Bhutias but Ayah always was with us.

Grandfather died about this time and I suppose the family split up, everyone was grown up anyway. Auntie Flo left now and I think kept house for Uncle Arthur.

Now we were for England for the very first time in our lives – even mother who was by then 30 years old and I think had not been born in England (she was born in Australia). Father his father, brothers and sisters were all there, Grandfather two uncles and five sisters. Both mother and father had 8 in the family and now we were getting ready to leave for England. We traveled there by ship of the Messageries Maritime.

Part III EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

We were on our way to England via Marseilles, I can’t remember much about the voyage except that there seemed to be many children. We had our meals apart from the grownups - looked after by the stewardesses. I expect we were a pretty useless lot having always had Ayahs in attendance. Being a French steamer I expect there were quite a few French people as the French had a small colony on the East coast called Ponolicheri. From France to England overland but I can’t remember way of the journey. Finally in London at a boarding house in West Kensington. I think must have been rather hoydens and mother had quite a job keeping us quiet.

Mother as I remember had something wrong with one of her feet and was confined to the house. Sylvia was left with her and father took me to Fladbury in Worcestershire to see his father and a cousin Robert Cowley and his wife Margery and their 2 small children. They were living in the old home where father had been born and were looking after grandfather who was quite old by now. I don’t know whether I remember him or the picture I had of him and my grandmother but I know he was quite surprised to find that I was not brown.

I think I must have stayed there a long time as I seemed to remember the place so well. The 2 children much younger than I, and going to the little country church where Aunt Marjorie played the organ.

The house was very old and one of the many near Worcester where Bonnie Prince Charles took refuge after his defeat. This was a great deal of land, orchards and vegetable gardens etc. Grandfather was a gentlemen farmer. He let out his grounds to growers of fruit and vegetables. He was reputed to grow the finest asparagus in the country. It must have been quite late in the summer as I remember so well the beautiful______ plums and the wasps.

From Fladbury father took me to Yorkshire to see his sister Bertha, married to a country doctor, Dr. Walker. I stayed there with them for several months. Bertha was a horrid person and even slapped me on one occasion. Uncle Ted didn’t like this and from then took me on his rounds in his dog cart. The groom sat up behind and when uncle went into the cottages he stood at the horses head. Years afterwards when I was living in Colombo he came to see me; he was then a ship’s doctor having sold his practice, left auntie whom he said he couldn’t stand anymore! Years after this I visited him and his very nice 2nd wife in Southampton where he had returned.

Now was to come one of father's more grandiose schemes. He took a house in a small town down in Hornchurch Essex and, furnished it from attic to cellar by Maples of London. Furnished down to the last teaspoon and monogrammed it Boughton-Chambers.

Mother could not face this in spite of having a wonderful maid and lots of help and advice from some refined Indian Civil Service people who lived opposite. I can’t remember much of this time but I do remember the vicarage where ___the vicar and his wife grew green figs. The Hornchurch episode did not last long, mother simply couldn’t take it.

Father must have disappeared for a day or two because he had found another place; this was to be home for about 3 years. He came in one day saying he had found part of a large house and discovered a character. How right he was. When we got to 34 Wellington Square Chelsea the door was opened to us by a wizened old lady with bright red hair, hennaed. She owned the house or rather her front first floor lodger did. She apparently had been housekeeper to the Nicholls family for years; they were English country folk and eccentric. Two brothers and a sister had been the sole survivors of the family, the older brother died and I expect the sister was put away as she apparently sat all day in her hunting outfit, complete with top hat.

The youngest son, about 71 or 75 then I think asked Mrs. Lewis to take over the London house and look after him. This she had done and decided to let the rest of the house. We had the first floor, the chief bedrooms in the old home but our living room and ___ ___bedroom at the back, a bathroom also at the back. __ rooms upstairs (maid’s rooms originally and a kitchen in the basement with an old kitchen range. Mother couldn’t possibly manage a kitchen in the basement so there must have been another small room near the bathroom because I remember her doing all the cooking on two kerosene stoves. Probably Beatrice like father used in his Pinner house (many years later according to Aunt Barbara???) Anyhow we settled in and it was home for 3 years or more.

Wellington Square and others off the Kings Road in Chelsea had been quite fashionable once. The houses were built around 3 sides of the square with a garden in the middle. The gardens were for the sole use of the tenants of the houses and were kept locked. The tenants had keys.
On thinking it over Mrs. Lewis must have had the front basement room for herself and we had the use of the kitchen at the back, shared with her as she would have had to cook for herself and Mr. Marshall. So there would always be a fire in the range where mother would be able to roast a joint or____. I remember a hip bath where we had run baths at night in front of the range.

Father made well at this time and was often coming home with tickets for the coliseum or other shows and I know we went to the Drury Lane Pantomime that winter. I saw Dan Leno as the ___ in Jack and the beanstalk. I remember this perfectly. Father also took us to Peter Jones in the Sloane square and for us outfitted up with grey coats and skirts and button boots, black velvet hats. He just handed us over to one of the saleswomen!!

Father was editor of the Indian Freemason (magazine) and was writing a serial for it all the time. I had to type his monthly contribution for the printer. I don’t know exactly how it happened but on one occasion there was a pink slip to be included errata. I think it was called. The slips were apparently, presumably a hideous error, somehow father got in touch with a fellow mason and the impossible was done. The print master was a mason and mother was allowed to go to the GPO and put in the slips before various port officers personnel. Even more exciting was that President Jonbere of France was visiting London that day and mother had to be escorted to the post office by the police as the traffic had been stopped. This story is absolutely true.

Shortly after, father had to go before the medical board for permission to return to India. He failed and was put on half pay for six months, failed again and on quarter pay for another three then fellow masons used their influence and he went back but we had a very thin time for those months and our mainstay was dhal and rice!

Now Auntie Edie one of father’s sisters came into the picture and into the family and what a godsend she was. She was studying to be a teacher at Whiteland’s College in Chelsea and when father went, she came to live with us. Our lessons began in earnest and she took complete charge. She taught us to ride the bicycle running around the square holding us (we hired the bike). She also taught us to skate in Battersea Park where the pond was frozen that winter. She put our hair up in rags each night and we had gorgeous ringlets in the morning and got us made some nice clothes. She and mother went out to theatres and concerts now and then and was really getting used to England at last.

We used to go to church either at St Peters Eaton Square or All Saints (I think) Sloane and the verger would tell her of any society weddings that were to take place and she dressed us up and we went and were once mistaken for guests and given favours! Beside all these improvements in our lives we now went to the public Baths once a week. We still kept up our nightly hip baths in front of the kitchen range. Mrs. Lewis was an old darling and helped mother a great deal. We got to know old Mr. Nicholls very well. Saw him every day, he was crippled with rheumatism and could no longer paint but he thought Sylvia was a lovely child and would have liked to paint her. She took after father’s family with her aristocratic features. I was the ugly duckling .

About this time I began to go to a day school, a convent in the Kings Rd. I loved school and was their little Indian. Our life went on in this pleasant way for I should think two or three years when father was invalided home with sprue, a tropical complaint. He was admitted to St. Thomas hospital but didn’t like being a number so mother got him into St Thomas home. Auntie Edie must have finished her training and found a post because now we were on our own. We moved from Wellington Square to as small town in Bedford Park near Chiswick and father came home to us there but was still very ill. He was in bed and ___to live on champagne. I expect mother's __brothers helped with money or perhaps the Masons again. I know we had a maid. Both Sylvia and I went now, to the Chiswick Girls High School. It was still there when I was back in England years after.

I don’t remember much about this time of my life but father got better I suppose and we went back to India, this time to Bombay on the west coast and so began another phase of my life. Of the voyage I can remember nothing, I suppose it was a P&O steamer. I can well remember one voyage later from Ceylon to Plymouth, more of this later.

Part IV EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

The west coast of India was new to all of us. Bombay was a fine city with a lovely harbour with many small islands one of them Elephanta with the famous caves, rock carving of the Hindu deities. On the other side was Back Bay the Indian Ocean with a beautiful sandy beach where at sunset we could see scores of Pansees praying to the setting sun. On our side of the bay was Colaba where the barracks were and on the other Malabar Hill, the Rockcliffe of Bombay.

Our first home was on the harbour side overlooking the Bombay yacht club but later we moved to Colaba. The climate was horrid, very hot and eternally steamy, it soon disagreed with me. It was decided that Sylvia and I would go up to the hills to a boarding school. The school was in a place called Panchgani in the western ghots. First the journey. We started by train and at one point where the line was on a spur of the mountain there could be no curving round so an engine was attached to the end of the train which became the front and we proceeded on the other layer of the spur. The station was called Khandala but was named the reversing station. We went up further for an hour or so to a station - Wathar and then detrained and got into a great lumbering Victoria like carriage drawn by four mules. The mules were changed every four hours until we finally got to Panchgani. This was a lovely place and had besides our school, a boy’s school and a convent. There were quite a number of houses as many retired couples settled there. There was also a Church of England and I suppose a catholic church, a tennis club and a cemetery.

From the school we could look down to the valley about 1000 feet below. A path wound up from the valley sometimes widening out into a ledge narrow at first but the ledges getting wider as one climbed. On the first of the wider ledges was our school bakery and dairy, the next even wider were the school building living quarters, dormitories of the ___and rooms for the staff. Dividing these rooms was the dining room and I suppose the kitchens. Further up still, came the schoolrooms, gymnasium and surgery and the hospital. It was a lovely little cottage with a nurse and several Ayahs. Everyone had an ambition to get sick so as to go there. There were also tennis courts on this ledge. Then came the roads for the various buildings I have mentioned. The road was of red earth with hedges on either side and in the monsoons these were covered in mushrooms and sweet peas - lovely.

We had yet another church to the final ledge which was really three tablelands with a lake. The tablelands were practically flat and made wonderful playgrounds. We had one; the boy’s school one and the convent the third. We played field hockey and cricket. We played tennis at odd times but the games on tableland were every afternoon. We had a stiff climb up to the tableland. In one monsoon the ground was carpeted with blue and white flowers. We called them bluebonnets and snowdrops. Tablelands were caves but we were not allowed to explore them. There were probably jackals and hyenas and snakes in them. Panchgani was quite a large community and had probably some consul or other but we didn’t bother about outside affairs.

Towards the end of November we went back to our homes in the plains for about 3 months, the school year was about 9 months and for the hot weather the mothers came up and took furnished bungalows and we went home for weekends. When the monsoons broke, generally with a fierce thunderstorm the rain just fell down and the noise on the roofs was deafening. It sometimes rained for weeks and when there was a break Miss Kimmens, our principal would say no lessons and send us for a walk, it was then that we saw lovely roses and sweet peas on the hedges and everything was fresh and wonderful. The heavy rains lasted about 3 months, the rest of the time the weather was beautiful.

I had started lessons in earnest and was to prepare for senior Cambridge the following year, I did and passed.

In our first winter in Bombay we met a family of the name McClumphis - two older boys had been in the cathedral choir and the younger ones were still singing there. Evie the older girl, older than I, was taking singing lessons with Dr. Faulkner. She also played the piano. I think this is the first time I found I had a nice voice. What lovely musical evenings we had at the McClumnphis singing around the piano.

When I got back to school I began to take lessons in singing with our music teacher and tried for the senior trinity college senior exams but failed in sight singing. One of the masters in the boy's school played my accompaniment and after that when he was at one of Miss Kimmens evening social gatherings he always asked that I be allowed to sing. He became quite a heart throb for me!!! The staffs of the two schools were practically all English university people and I think our education was of a very high standard. Algebra and Euclid were taught by a Pundit, an Indian teacher... As far as I remember we were an exceptionally happy bunch of girls.

There are a few more experiences which I must add to the Panchgani part of my life. Although we were in school for nine months of the year we had road holidays; sometimes were taken for picnics to beauty spots, chiefly waterfalls. We went by bullock cart not luxurious but fun. At other times we were allowed to ramble in groups of four and often went to the valley below us which was a Hindu place of pilgrimage and had many temples which of course we were not allowed to enter. The natives of Wai village were rather hostile to white “log” people, but we did not seem to mind as we chattered away to the women and children in Hindustani. In the strawberry seasons Mrs. Kimmens got a reliable man to come in for the____Falls and we had bowls of strawberries and cream for breakfast instead of porridge. She also had a reliable man who came every Saturday with native sweets, absolutely mouth watering and dripping with delicious juices. There were fehabies, russagotas, halwa and others whose names I have forgotten. We had unknown to the staff, or winked at, midnight feasts, chiefly curry and rice made by the Ayahs finished off with tins of sweet condensed milk.

There was a tragic note when the plague came to Panchgani. The natives died like this and it even struck a poor white family and wiped out mother, father and their five children. Ironically every native not stricken ran away, all the native huts were burnt down and the Padre and his auntie, the RC priest and the doctor, one of two ladies including mother got the white bodies ready for burial. During these weeks all the schools evacuated to Mahableshwar, the summer seat of the Bombay government. We were put into various bungalows and there was one for meals and school. We did our lessons under the trees. There was no labour to speak of and when our shoes were torn we had to mend them for ourselves with paper and string. We walked miles and miles from place to place. We were glad to get back to Panchgani but glad to have seen Mahableseshwar which was lovely. I think from what I have recounted that it will be agreed that our school was unique and that we were a happy crowd. We had lots of entertainment. We always acted the Shakespeare play we were doing that year and I had spelling and geography bees in which the boys took part.

The fashion then was to find a musical comedy star to be like; Sylvia was like Phyllis Ware, someone else like Marie Stadholme etc. I was not beautiful enough, in fact I was plain Jane, so the mistresses said I could be like Ellen Terry because I had an expressive face.

We went down to Bombay, very cold weather, and when I was seventeen we all went to Calcutta to spend Christmas with Uncle Arthur and His wife Auntie Bertie. I put up my hair and was quite grown up and we had a lovely time. We met Auntie Flo again; she was living at Arthur’s I think with Uncle and Auntie.

Life went on happily for about four years or so and then I left Panchgani very reluctantly for good. Mother and father by then had moved to Calab the military side of Bombay and I had my 21st birthday and my first bicycle there. I used to sing a great deal now and learned many songs some mother had sung. Soldiers passing by to the barracks often stood outside and listened to me. I loved singing. We were generally with the McClumpha’s and life was fairly conundrum. Sylvia and I were getting bored with nothing to do but please ourselves, so decided that she would train as a nurse and I as a teacher. Father was much against it but we were determined and decided on Poona, not far from Bombay but at a higher altitude and dry. She went to the Sassoon Hospital and I to St Mary’s Training College.

Part V EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

St Mary’s was very different from our school in Panchgani. It was a large school with a Teachers training department. There were only six of us while I was there; the school proper was on one side of the road and a small cottage and large Kindergarten building on the other. It was very hot in Poona with 45 degrees during the day, but dry. We did all our work either in the early morning or after 5 pm. We all went into our dormitories and slept a couple of hours. I enjoyed my studies and besides the teacher's training I started to work for the Cambridge higher exam. I did psychology and English private coaching during the cold weather holidays. I could not manage the math, a compulsory subject.

On most afternoons I went over to the kindergarten building where there was a piano and sang my heart out accompanying myself after a fashion. We had to give lessons in the school proper for practical training. One fairly momentous thing happened during those two years. It was the year of the Delhi (Durtar?) and King George V, and Queen Mary were to arrive in Bombay. Father had special seats for the reception of their majesties and wanted us to be there. Sylvia had no difficulty in getting leave but sister superior said I could not go. Father wrote saying history was being made and I was to go! So grudgingly permission was given and off we went to Bombay. Sylvia and I had no money so went 3rd class and what a trip it was! We spent the night killing bugs!!! Needless to say Father would not allow us to return the same way. It was a very colorful show with speeches and bands but not of course like the Nurbar was. We had a very good view of the majesties. I remember King George stood on a low stool as he was a little shorter than the Queen.

I was not very happy at St Mary’s but enjoyed my studies. Sister Maud was an interesting and I think a good teacher, and very important to me. She loved poetry; she read beautifully and would take out her books of poems at any time if we encouraged her. She was especially fond of Robert Browning, so I have been ever since then. I did my psychology with her, and history with the history mistress of the school proper, and passed in the Higher Local Cambridge in both. However, I never got a certificate as I could not get the grade required in math. I had a special tutor one Christmas holiday, but still could not attain the standard. We had done very little math in my school days. Anyhow, I got my Teacher’s certificate, and soon after there was an application from Bishop’s College in Colombo for a teacher. There were several necessary requirements, which I thought I hadn’t got, but Sister Superior said I had, so off I went to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka).

Part VI EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

That cold weather city was a busy bustling one. I expect the Dhirzee was in every day making all sorts of garments. I was quite worried about my inadequacy to do all that would be required of me about somewhere I suppose. One thing I knew I must get cleared up and that was teaching singing. I had lessons myself but knew nothing about teaching a class. However, I saw Dr. Faulkner who gave me a few ideas, but who also scolded me as he said that using my voice in a classroom all day would ruin it. However this didn’t worry me and as it happened I never felt my voice was unduly strained. I expect I had been taught to use it properly. I have an idea that it was this winter that Halley’s Comet was visible. What a glorious sight that was. We went up to the roof about 3am and there it was stretched across the sky. This would be 1911; I’d like to find out if it was that winter; anyhow around that time as I know we saw it from the flat roof of our house in Colaba, and I was not in that house for more that one or two holidays. I was 23 years old and about to go out into the world on my own. I expect I felt a bit afraid. I expect all traveling arrangements were made by Father and I set off, I remember on a small coastal steamer; (I shared) a cabin with the granddaughter of General Booth of the Salvation Army. I can’t remember the voyage or arriving in Colombo but I must have got there, because it was the beginning of a very happy period of my life.

I loved every minute of my life in Bishop’s College. The school was run by the East Grinstead Sisters, so very different from St. Mary’s and the Wantage Sisters (both were Anglican - not Catholic). I was by far the youngest member of the staff - about six residents and a couple of visiting teacher’s. Ruby Hillyer taught music and became a great friend. I was married at her house. She later married one of the Eastern Telegraph men and we continued our friendship until she died, while we were all in England.

The Bishop of Colombo was our Patron and he and Mrs. Copplestone took an interest in the staff. I became quite a favorite of theirs and spent many holidays with them in Nuwera Elya. They were the dearest couple and so gentle and lived quietly in an aristocratic way. They were cousins and were connected with the Fox-Strangeways. The Bishop’s brother was the Metropolitan Bishop of India. I spent much of my time with the Copplestones, up country especially. They liked to hear my singing and I sang the songs from my classical book without accompaniment. I don’t know whether Barbara will remember my book of soprano songs by Brahms, Grieg Arne and others.

Now I must get down to my reason for being in Colombo. We had a resident staff of about six I think I have said, and I was by far the youngest. My form (class) was ten-year olds; they were bright and no problem with discipline, and they liked to learn. The 6th from where I took arithmetic was not so easy. I had hardly gone much further in arithmetic, and worked out all problems in advance, so that I could do any explaining needed. The singing was a joy - the children sang very sweetly and just like me. I rushed from the altos to the sopranos and we got on famously. We tried for a local competition and won the Shield both years I was there, although I kept up the singing after I was married. We tried for a Trinity College exam but failed and the examiner told me that my conducting was the fault.

Colombo had little outside entertainment by visitors from abroad but we made our own, and I was soon roped in to join the Amateur Operatic Society. We put on many shows, light and more serious stuff like Omar Kayham, and I was in everything. I loved it but was tired during the day and used to get the children doing much on their own while I closed my eyes for a few minutes.

We had outdoor diversions—golf and tennis, and bathing at Mount Lavinia. There were more men than girls and we never lacked for escorts. Most of us joined the Ladies’ Gold club so that we could return some of the hospitality given by the men.

We had a Chapel in the school and had the usual offices of the day from Matins to Compline. We were required to attend whenever we were free, so we all wore capes like Miss Muffet’s.

My doctor uncle Ted came to see me once as he had left Auntie Berth. He sold his practice and joined a ship as doctor for a year or two. He took me out while in port. One of the forms of entertainment was movies on the roof of the G.O.H. (Green Oonebal(?) Hotel ) one of the two big hotels – the other was the Galle face Hotel on the sea front, a popular place for sitting in the cool of the evening, having lemon and other innocuous drinks and eating chips and nuts.

I think I loved every hour of my two years or so in Bishop’s College. I had two friends on the staff, Esther Stewart and Ethel Sutch, the latter was my bridesmaid when I married Teddy. I resumed my friendship afterwards in England when I went to her home on, I think the Duke of Wellington’s estate; her father was the librarian in the big house.

Among the men I met (in Ceylon) was Teddy Kellaway, with whom we made an occasional four at tennis. He was one the best players in the Garden Club and I was not in the same class, but I expect he put up with that, as apparently he had made up his mind to marry me. I was quite interested in two other men, but Teddy was more determined that they were; anyway as soon as war was declared (1914) we got engaged and were married the following February.

I was married in the Parish Church, and thought the Vicar would marry us, but Mrs. Copplestone was that the Bishop would be quite hurt if I didn’t ask him, so I did and he did. Father came over to meet Teddy and later to give me away. He was stationed in Poona and close to retirement. Mother and Sylvia had gone to England where Sylvia went to Guy’s hospital to continue her training. I went to Bombay for Christmas and stayed with Friends and had my trousseau made—not by a Dhirzee this time but by a little French dressmaker. Ruby Hillyer had the wedding at her house and the Bishop said a lot of nice things about me.

We spent out honeymoon in Kandy and then took a furnished bungalow. As I have said, I kept on the singing at the school and had one private pupil. Life went on as before, with golf, tennis, dinner parties, and we spent until the end of the war in this way. Teddy’s was a reserved occupation and women were not allowed to travel. We hardly knew that there was a war, except when the Australian soldiers passed through Colombo, wreaking havoc in the town, and when they returned wounded and crippled from the front.

We had a black out along the sea front as the “Emden” was around. (German battleship). I did not see so much of the Copplestones after I was married; I don’t think they cared for Teddy, so I was generally asked to Tiffin, although we were invited to the occasional dinner party which Teddy found boring. I got to know and became a great friend of the Atkins and the Parfitts, whom Barbara knew later; in fact Moffat Atkins was her godmother, and the Parfitts were very good to Marjorie and me when I left Teddy for the first time - that story comes later.

Part VII EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

It was late April or May (1919?) before we left Colombo. We sailed on an Orient Line boat (???) a long voyage of about three weeks. We had to put in at Karachi to take on troops, so there were adjustments to be made on the ship. Father had Teddy and me visit him in Poona where he was stationed. I thought he had retired and volunteered his service again, but actually he was still in the service and went from India to Aden (during the war) in charge of supplies, where he stayed I suppose until the end of the war. We stayed in Poona for a few days and then rejoined the ship. The voyage turned out to be a most pleasant one. The captain had a fine voice and had a piano. I had his quarters. I and another woman passenger who could sing left our music in his stateroom or whatever it was called, and we practiced quite a lot and sang for the soldiers. The captain had had (Nellie) Melba (opera star) as a passenger on occasion and had had a lesson or two from her. He was a most sociable person and had little morning parties of champagne and very delectable eats. I really enjoyed myself, and Teddy did with a Bridge crowd as he wasn’t interested in music - he came to the morning snacks though!

(In England) we stayed with mother and Sylvia who were then in a nice house in Forest Hill in southeast London I think - near Woolwich (Arsenal). We were sent to Malta in October or thereabouts and began another chapter of our life.

After our stay with Mother, Teddy took me to see his people whom I had not yet met. They lived in Guildford, his mother and sister Mable, her husband Len, and their dear little girl Phyllis, their first daughter and Teddy and my's first niece. Guildford was very pretty, with lovely surrounding country where we had many drives. I was a bit appalled at the enormous servings of food dished up at every meal - I had not a great appetite. We liked each other and were friends, even after I left Teddy; Mabel was a dear; Teddy’s mother often visited us when we got back to England from Malta and had our first real home in Hampton.

But now to Teddy’s next posting in Malta, where I stayed two years and Teddy three. I had Barbara while there and wanted to show her to her grandparents, so she and I returned when she was a year old. It was a very company life, as the Eastern Telegraph Company (later cable and wireless) and navy were about the only other residents, except the Maltese of course. Our people lived mainly in Sliema, and the Navy in Valetta the other side of the harbour. There was a big crowd of us and we had a very social life - sailing and swimming, tea parties and dinners, and we put on quite a number of musical shows with Marjorie’s godmother and Betty Bell—especially Kootie, who was really Ethal, but she was a little thing, so I called her the Singhalese word for little. We lived in enormous houses—furnished - with marble floors and quite impressive stairs. We all had one maid and, where there were children, two.

Kootie had a baby boy, eight months older than Barbara, so we each had a young nursery maid. We lived very near each other, and went swimming every morning. The climate was lovely in winter but a bit oppressive in the summer months. Valetta was the capital and Sliemas a suburb. We crossed over the harbour by ferry as we did all our shopping in Valetta. I don’t really remember much about it except the goats which strolled along all the streets, which were very dirty. The opera house was in Valetta and during the season we had a Box—L2 for the season I think it was. The chorus was locally recruited, but the principals came from Italy. Carnival time before Lent was very jolly and there were fancy dress balls etc. I became very friendly with two Maltese sisters, very musical, and they me arias from operas. About this time the Mills were due to leave Malta, so I decided to go home with them. Teddy had another year to go. We left Malta on a fairly small ship and ran into terrible weather. We were all sick, including the children, but we finally got to Sicily and then on to Naples. We stayed a few days in Rome and again in Paris, and at last to Calais, Dover and London.

Barbara and I stayed with mother in Forest Hill and did not venture far as I had Barbara to look after. We spent pleasant afternoons in Horniman Gardens and (???) there. Mother’s little girl, or young girl who used to help with the housework, helped too with Barbara. While in Benson Road we had a fire - I saw the fire engine and showed it to Ba, not realizing that it was in front of our house. The fireman were in charge and Mother at a neighbour’s opposite. It had not been much of a fire, but the mess with soot and water was dreadful. It took days to clean up - a job I was not used to.

Things are a bit hazy now but eventually Father got back from Aden and Teddy from Malta, and a bungalow was bought in Hampton where we all moved. This was our first home.

PART VIII EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

I shall probably spend a little while over the next few pages as, in spite of great unhappiness and the final break-up of my married life, I was happy and I think we all were for 3 or 4 years. I loved my home—it was a dear pretty place and I had Barbara. We started off with Mother and father but that arrangement didn’t last - the house was really too small and of course Father wasn’t boss. He soon found a nice flat in Richmond, where we were constant visitors, as Mother was to my home. I really don’t remember much about Father but he took long cycling trips all over the country; he continued well into his 80’s.

I had great ideas about perfecting the home and Teddy always was interested and paid the bills. First there was the garden - a large piece of land, quite overgrown, we had hedges planted and lawn; the making of the garden was now underway. We had privet hedges, golden on the short side and green on the other two; they were about 2 feet high and I longed for the day they would be six, and I cold sit on our quite big lawn in privacy. (They are now and this I know because years and years later my dentist in Ottawa, Dr. Timmers, lived in Hampton - in fact went to the same prep school as Barbara, though I didn’t even know her then - and has been often to see her parents and says the house looks lovely, the hedges tall and the roses still a joy.)

We had the most beautiful roses along the front path, beds of standard and bush alternating. And at the side - I think there were about 100 bushes. How I loved picking them and filling my bowls, and the scent was heavenly. The job was to keep them, dead blooms plucked and paths weeded. We had a garage - prefabricated - but no car, so what would have been the driveway was a vegetable garden. Barbara had a swing just inside the garage and could swing in all weathers. We had a gardener twice a week who kept things trim and put a bet of a bob each way for a horse at the races across the water - Kempton Park I think it was called.

Having got the garden started and in a way established, I now had plans for the house. We got hold of Mr. March, who had built the house, and said we wanted to enlarge. He suggested a kitchen to the place of the existing one, and as it was on the side of the other two bedrooms made that a third. Behind that was a very small room - these were eventually the children’s rooms and the other for Florrie - Mother’s cleaning girl who came as my maid and stayed five years until she married. Behind the dining room was built on the kitchen, not large but compact and most convenient. We now had three bedrooms, a smaller room a-joining the children’s room, a lovely living room, cozy and pretty, dining room and kitchen. There was also a small hall with bathroom leading off.

A veranda ran in front and at one side, and entered the living room straight from the veranda. The fireplace was recessed with a long shelf which was just the place for the lovely brass I had brought from Ceylon. On one side of the fireplace was my small desk, and on the other I had a small glass fronted cabinet for all Teddy’s various cups - tennis, golf, shooting etc. I suppose the house would be pseudo antique, as the casement windows had leaded panes and the woodwork stained almost black, instead of paint - the walls were color washed. The room was furnished unconventionally, as I had several large carved tables (from India and Ceylon) but we had a gorgeous comfortable chesterfield and chairs. The color scheme was mauve - Teddy’s favourite color. Otherwise all the other rooms were conventionally furnished—oh yes, we had a player piano, on which Teddy liked to perform; I could use it ordinarily for my singing. The dining-room was brown and blue. We had lovely carpets to which I was not accustomed, and I loved them.

Now I’ve built the home, planted the garden, and will begin five or six years of happy life, in spite of later troubles. Now I shall say a little about our happy life at Panchgani (the name we gave our bungalow). I was new to England, at least living there as a grown-up and quite new to housekeeping in the English way, but things were pleasant and easy. The tradesmen all called each day for orders and were paid weekly, and with Florrie, who was a gift, I had very little to do with running things. Hampton being a village, or nearly so, there was the usual social round. The neighbour’s called and afternoon teas were exchanged. There were little girls in the next two houses about Barbara’s age, so she had playmates, but really liked playing alone I think anyhow until she went to school. Then there were more friends and birthday parties etc. Teddy and I went to our Club, The Exiles in Twickenham, and probably Ba came along and we watched the various games, in most of which Teddy was active. We met friends from overseas there and Ba got to know their children. We also had a beautiful club, Orleans House in Richmond, a residential club for our people on leave from various parts of the world, and there was quite a bit of entertaining done there, especially at Christmas time, with gay parties for the children.

Teddy had some leave before being sent to the Head Office in London, and he and I went very often to London for lunch or to theatres; Mother came and took charge then. I was not altogether a gadabout. I was an honorary secretary for Dr. Barnado’s Home and did collecting for them. (I don’t know how far I have got with my story, as there seems no one to read things over to me, but I hope I don’t repeat myself).

Things went happily along at Hampton. We had visits from Kootie and Moffat, and visited them as well. I also renewed my friendship with the Gayers, who were at school with me in Panchgani, and it was as if we had never been parted. Ann and I did lots of theatres and concerts together and I had some interesting times with them in their home in Kensington. Barbara was growing well and I took her out a great deal - she saw her first “Peter Pan” at 3 years old and loved it and has loved the theatre ever since I think. Things were not going so well with Teddy and me. And we decided to have another child, so Marjorie arrived when Ba was five. Teddy was in the London office and, as the Company had an amateur operatic society, I joined and was in a couple of their productions. I had a friend in Hampton who played the piano well and I did a great deal of singing with her. We both enjoyed that.

Ann Gayer, who taught French and German in a large secondary school used to take her senior class to Paris for a week each year, and I tagged along a couple of times. Mother came and stayed with the children, while I was away. I enjoyed these trips enormously. Marjorie was born in 1925 and was an added interest and enjoyment to my life, but her arrival didn’t help much. (Not from Barbara at this point - although Mother hasn’t spelled out the trouble with Teddy, he was a real alcoholic by this time, and also occasionally frequented the “amateur tarts” which could have meant health problems for all of us.) We went on for another two years, Barbara had started school and finally I decided I had to give up trying. Both Teddy’s mother and sister were sympathetic with me, and Barbara went to stay with them, and I took Marjorie to some Colombo friends who were living in Walton. So ended a happy and sad period of six or seven years and goodbye to my cherished home.

I don’t think I could have done anything else and Barbara has agreed when we have talked about it in late years. I hope I have given Ba a real picture of that part of her life.

Before starting on the next phase I might mention one or two things relating to Panchgani and Hampton. Our (Barbara’s and mine) visits to Hampton court where we spent many afternoons. We walked to the village and took the trolley bus right to the gates and we enjoyed rambling through the rooms of the palace and the lovely gardens. I think Ba must have got her interest in history at that early age - I like to think so anyhow. Another little jaunt was to the town of Kingston-on-Thames, by the same bus, where we had tea either at Bentalls (a large department store) and heard Albert Sandler (a violinist) in the Palm court, or to the Cinema, which I think Barbara probably preferred, as she was able to get a glimpse of the screen as people went in and out. I can see her rushing to have a look and people holding the door a moment to allow her to peep. Now to the next phase after leaving home.

PART IX EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

I have mentioned that Barbara went to her Auntie Mabel, while I and Marjorie went to friends in Walton-on-Thames. They were very kind to me and insisted I stay until I could decide what to do. Marjorie was only about 2 years old, so I had her to look after. I remember playing ball with her in the tennis court; she stood on the one side of the net and I’d throw the ball over the net. The house was an old one and I discovered that there was a parquet floor in the hall - very neglected - so I went to work on it and got it looking lovely - a little I felt I cold do in return.

Teddy started phoning, asking me to return, but Frank Parfitt advised me not to give in. Teddy finally said that he had been asked to go abroad again, and this would mean 6 months training at the Company’s school in Hampstead. Would I and the children go back to him for that time. I agreed and he took a furnished flat near the school and the three of us joined him. I never really knew what happened to the home, but I think Mabel got the carpets and the furniture was probably stored and the bungalow sold - anyhow I didn’t care. Things went along fairly smoothly; Teddy was working hard and not drinking. We were quite near (Hampstead) Heath, and the children and I spent most afternoons there. Before leaving for Zanzibar he, and I suppose father, rented a big house in Kingston, and I must say Teddy did all he could for our comfort. All the floors were covered in linoleum or carpets and the stairs carpeted. Mother and Father had their furniture and I had ours, and we all settled in. More were to follow: Dorothy McClumpha and her niece (Margaret), the daughter of Evie who had died (in a car crash in India); Mother’s sister Auntie Dora and her youngest son, John - a regular tribe. There was plenty of room - both Margaret and John were in boarding schools (Ba also) and only home for the holidays and we settled down for a few years of a very happy family life.

What a change this move was—from a rather small house with lots of garden to a great big one with only a back yard. The house was the property of the Kingston Brewery, and was the Manager’s at one time. It was in a backwater off the High Street, called Brook Street. All the property now belonged to the brewery. So we had no neighbours. These were old stone houses. Our house had two stories and the ground floor, so there were about eight bedrooms of various sizes, and the downstairs a lovely drawing room, dining-room and a large breakfast room off the kitchen. The children had it for their games etc. we had breakfast there as it was just off the kitchen. The front room had two lovely windows, right almost to the pavement level, and we had them curtained with sheer net a silk curtains of mauve. The house being so large needed much furnishing. The parents had all their stuff, so the dining room, drawing room their bedroom and father’s den were all furnished by them. Teddy saw to our bedrooms and of course had all the floors covered. I seem to remember the carpet from our living-room. Anyhow the drawing room, I remember , was very pretty on shades of pinky mauve. Oh yes, we had my piano - Auntie Dora who was with us, played, as you know, and there was much music I enjoyed the evenings.

The next 3 or 4 years were happy ones and we had quite a lot of fun. Auntie and mother took jaunts to London - Mother knew her London - or Mother and I saw a play or ballet or had a meal. Dorothy was not very strong and was content to have tea and the pictures either in Kingston or Richmond. We always took Marjorie to Richmond and sometimes had a river trip to Hampton Court.

Of course in the holidays we were very venturesome and visited Museums in London, and also loved going on the river and to Richmond Park on the hill, where we always had tea - a great treat. We always had Marjorie in her little pushchair with us, but I don’t think she came into town (London) she was rather young for museums or even the Cinema. Florrie had left by this time, but we shared the housework with a charlady’s help; Mother did all the cooking and was good at it.

Father continued his long cycling trips—on one occasion we had a postcard from Devonshire - otherwise he spent much time writing I expect; he was a member of the Author’s Club, and I went to many interesting lectures with him - Barbara went when she was older. On a couple of occasions I sang at the Masonic dinners, and father got the charming notes of thanks from the secretary, for me. I was nervous but really enjoyed meeting the many notable guests.

We were a harmonious household and had quite a lot of fun, but I had my anxious times. I had to bring Barbara back by ambulance from school at Ashford (in Kent) as she developed Chorea (St. Vitus’ Dance) after an attack of measles. She was in the University College Hospital for several weeks and then in a Convalescent Home in Broadstairs I think - she made a good recovery. I also had an anxious few weeks with Marjorie, who got pneumonia after an attack of “flu, and was in a local nursing home, where our doctor drove her in his car, and me of course; she was very sick - I didn’t know until she was better how sick - she was so weak afterwards that she had to learn how to walk again, but she quite recovered. In spite of everything we still enjoyed life with trips to London etc.

I suppose these were really only two or three years, as our next unhappiness was Mother’s death after a very short illness. We had a lovely day on her 69th birthday, January 20th. She and I went up to London, did a matinee, had a small meal and went to the Ballet at the Alhmabra, and home by the last train - she loved every minute. She was dead by the beginning of May, a cold and congestion on the lungs - she was a big women and hadn’t much chance in those days. There was one spray of lilac left on our one tree in the backyard and I was able to place it between her hands - it was her favourite flower. Barbara was at home and I didn’t want her upset after her illness, so I said Granny was being taken to the hospital. I wanted to go to my friends the Gayers, but they were out, so we went to the pictures - I with heartache.

I keep saying we were happy in Kingston and we were, in spite of sickness and sorrow. The family broke up after mother died. Uncle William retired and came home from India, and Auntie Dora, he and John went to live a Highgate . Before Auntie went, it was decided that I had to have an operation, so I went into the Samaritan Women’s Hospital, and Mary Bowen, the daughter of one of Mother’s friends and a nurse, came to look after Marjorie who promptly got the measles, not badly. Then I decided on a divorce and got in touch with a solicitor. I remember in Kingston Father was slightly dishonest over money and looking for it from friends or other Masons. I used to read his letters and tell Mother. Her “diamond star” (from India) used to get him out of debt—a family saying.

PART X EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

Father then bought a house in Pinner Green and wanted me and the girls with him, but I refused because the educational advantages were better in London, so our next move was to Ladbroke Grove, near Knotting Hill. We had the use of the top half of a large house in Ladbroke Grove. W.11 - I must put in the 11 because the bank manager said that we were living at the right end! I don’t remember how much money I had from Teddy, but we spent pretty freely for some years. I had obtained my (divorce) Decree Nisi, and the judge on my case congratulated me on my clear answers and evidence.

We had a very nice first floor with a large bedroom and living room, also kitchen, bathroom, etc. The floor above had large rooms, but sloping ceilings, but were airy. While in Ladbroke Grove I seem to have been helping some lame dogs with loans of money etc. which I never got back. The girls now went to the Godolphin & Latymer secondary school in Hammersmith, and I seem to remember that we had some nice walks into Kensington, trips to the West End and, of course, to Father’s in Pinner. I remember that I was ill one summer and Barbara looked after me. Also I seem to remember that Auntie Edie and Uncle Peter stayed there with us for a time - I don’t know why.

After our sojourn in Ladbroke Grove my memories are far from chronological, but Marjorie says I went to look after the doctors in Hammersmith. I suppose it was that Barbara was living (in a guest house) with Mrs. Hite and Marjorie was in boarding school at Ashford. Anyhow I remember being in Hammersmith and re-organizing the doctor’s lives and way of living. On the whole I think I enjoyed it especially as money was never any object. Our next move was the Vereker Road and while there I had various jobs, from helping Mrs. White to charring much to Barbara’s disgust) and finally to joining Mr. White in the Post office where I worked (for many years).

I shall probably be somewhat confused about times and places as I seem to be doing so many odd jobs. But before I continue I’ll talk about my first job, with the doctors. An old school friend, Dr Lulu Gayer, asked me to help out with the doctors who lost their man who had looked after them. I agreed and really was quite glad that I had. It was a lovely house they had in Hammersmith. The ground floor was given over to the medical side, and the province of the charlady and the dispenser (pharmacist). The upstairs, two stories, had two living rooms on the 1st floor, and four rooms on the floor above - a bedroom each for the doctors, and a bedroom sitting room for me, so that I had some of my own furniture and my piano. (Note from Ba: It was here that I used to go and stay overnight sometimes, and Marjorie came home there in her holidays from boarding school.)

To my horror I found that one of the large rooms on the 1st floor had been used as the kitchen, and the back the dining room. There was a long narrow conservatory running at the side of the two rooms facing a side street. I suggested this would do for a kitchen, and the large front room for a lovely dining room, which it should have been. Dr. Stein (the senior partner) was very pleased with the idea and had work started at once. The rooms were decorated and furnished regardless of expense and looked beautiful, and I was quite pleased with my rather odd kitchen. I didn’t know a great deal about cooking, so went up to the London Polytechnic for lessons. I soon began to blossom out and I made all kinds of things (expense was never a problem). The doctors, who had previously entertained their friends in West End restaurants, started to have dinner parties at home. I loved it, and the various guests, who were mainly of the opposite sex, were most complimentary and brought me flowers and chocolates.

I enjoyed the time there but Barbara (who had been living in the guest house) and Marjorie (who didn’t enjoy being at Ashford) needed a home so we took a flat in Barons Court. Eventually Mrs. White, who owned the guest house, suggested her husband taught me the work in a Post Office, and I went to his sub-office and became a post office worker. I was now an office worker instead of a charlady, and I expect Ba was pleased. It meant more work for her, as my hours were long and I had to depend on her for the shopping and other chores.

I worked with Mr. White until the office was bombed, and then in various Branch Offices where there was a shortage of clerks. (Note from Ba: Marjorie was evacuated with the school to the country, and I had started my first job in July 1939). I can’t possibly remember the places we lived when the war was on. We had a nasty incident very near us in Vereker Road, and lost some of our chimneys and part of the roof, so we moved. I remember Marjorie, who was in the A.T.S. (Note from Ba: this was actually quite a bit later in the war) having some leave which we spent in Scarborough - I went back there later on and worked in a sub-office. I seemed to have spent my time running away from the bombing and back with Mr. White when he got a new office. I ended up joining Renne Hill in Shepherd's Buch - a very busy office - and I took a flat nearby.

I must mention that Barbara married Richard in 1941, and when he went to France I stayed with her in Eastcote (No-B.C.) I also took a temporary job somewhere near Bedford at one point. I think Ba was engaged then and working in Bedford and living with Mrs. Carruthers. Anyhow, back to Shepherd’s Buch, Collingbourne Road, when Marjorie was married, (after the war) and she and Ronnie stayed with me until Ronnie went to Canada. (Oh, Father was with us there for a while and died there). Marjorie followed Ronnie, and then I think Richard, who with Ba was living in Chiswick, and then Ba came to me until we left for Canada. Barbara will fill in all the gaps. I am now going to embark on my thirty odd years in Canada, by no means the happiest in my life.

PART XI EDITH MARY LEMON CHAMBERS-KELLAWAY memoirs

Canada, 1948: Father having left a little money to me, I was able to help the family emigrate. It seemed the best thing for the young people as there was really little for them. Richard, in spite of a degree in physics, was teaching in a secondary school on a pitiful salary; Ronnie, just discharged from the Navy, had no prospects, so I divided the money which would pay fares and help them along until they found occupations. Ronnie was the first to go, and Marjorie followed shortly. Richard and Barbara sold up their flat—they had great many books. Barbara came to mine, and we waited events. I did not want to go as I was perfectly content with my job and home, but the family thought it best. Meanwhile Ba and I had a good time theatre going and ballet - all in good seats. We had planned to buy a house in Ealing, should Richard not get a worthwhile job (in Canada) and divide it into flats for them and two Aunts, Edie and Kate. However, Richard joined the N.R.C. in Ottawa, so Ba and I had to think of our journey. One of the doctors had a booking on the Queen Mary, as he and his wife were hoping to go to New York. Their plans fell through and the doctor offered us their cabin, which we took and sailed in May for New York.

I don’t remember much about getting to Southampton and embarking, but we managed it I suppose. We had been warned not to eat too much as our stomachs had shrunk a bit with our war time rations, but I remember the table steward being quite worried at the little we ate. I don’t think Barbara felt much like eating anyway as she was not a very good traveler and how the ship rolled! When sitting on the deck we felt that any moment we would slide off the deck into the ocean but she would shudder and straighten herself and start her roll in the opposite direction and then we would feel as though we were standing on our heads. It was a short voyage unlike the one I had from the east and we arrived safely in New York where we had booked into a rather grand hotel, The Taft. We were met by a host of colored doormen, page boys etc. and taken to our room. We stayed a couple of days and visited round getting seats for plays. I think it was then we saw Catherine Cornell and on a later visit the play Caesar.

Finally we started for Canada after wildly telegraphing for more money and were met by Richard in Toronto where we stayed at the King Edward Hotel for a spell. On having a whisky double where by against Richard’s advice I got quite tiddly!

Richard was working in Ottawa, and had taken a furnished bungalow for 6 months, our first home in Canada. I think I was right, this was May 1948 and after I think a snow storm came and a very hot summer. I spent most of my time in the basement the only cool place, amused myself with the washing and ironing down there.

In August I entered the civic hospital and had my left breast removed, I had been a little anxious before leaving England and when I heard the name of a Dr Petrie, he had examined Richard for __? I phoned and made an appointment to see him. He thought it was probably cystic mastitis but at my age be wiser to “whip it off”, a strange way for a surgeon to talk I thought but he whipped it off and as it was so hot I went home as soon as possible and then to his office to have the stitches removed. Ba looked after me and I made a quick recovery, no complications at all. I just don’t remember much for some time except that I wanted to go back home and I can’t remember whether it was the winter of 1948 but I did go back and went back to my job at the post office.

I sailed on the Empress of Canada from Montreal after having done all the sight seeing in Ottawa and Montreal. I have always regretted that on the first evening out there had been a gorgeous display of the Northern lights, but I had gone down to my cabin after dinner and missed it.

On arrival in England I tried living with Auntie Edie and Auntie Kate but felt after a week or so that it wouldn’t work and found a very nice home in Ealing with the Cooper-Marshalls - a young couple who were buying the large house and had 3 of us as roomers, a nurse, a research worker with Burroughs and Welcome and me. I was very happy there and back at my old job. Ruth and Bill had a small son who attached himself to me, he was a dear little boy.

I don’t think I’ll write any more or not much more about the last thirty odd years. The two daughters will remember as well if not better than I do.

I was happy for the few months I spent at Fairport Beach. I suppose because I felt useful or rather some use when it was needed. I still had a little money to help out with the alterations Ronnie was doing to the house and I think I helped to buy their first car.

I had never had such an experience in my life. It was quite primitive, I drew water from the well, did the washing out of doors in a tin tub, helped chop wood, raking up leaves and what hundreds of leaves there were in the fall. We went down to the lake (Ontario) to bathe ourselves and later Ronnie made a kind of bathroom and we heated water on the Quebec heater which incredibly heated the house beautifully in the winter. I threw the slops over the side of the cliff and last but not least looked after Lorna who was so good and played in the playpen while I popped in and out doing the chores. She was always ready for bed when her mother and father returned home from work in Toronto and loved to sit in her high chair and listen to Don Messer on the radio. When Ronnie and Marjorie had found an apartment in Toronto, I took Lorna and Smokey the cat to Ottawa to stay with Ba and Richard until they came to call for her. I loved it at Fairport Beach, it was right on the lake and I never tired of watching the changing colors and remember seeing the moon rise over the lake. We had one or two quite alarming storms when the waves were very high and the whine of the wind was quite horrifying. That was a happy period and there were others, but I never liked the country and never will.

I enjoyed my visits to New York and Washington and Boston and reveled in the many art collections. I also was thrilled with the opera and with the Lincoln Center when it was finally built.

I don’t know how much longer I shall live but I do know I shall die here.

Editor's Note - These memoirs are published here with the gracious permission of Lesley Dickinson, Edith Mary Kellaway's granddaughter.

Teddy Kellaway's line of descent is as follows:
John Kellaway born 1727 Freshwater, Isle of Wight, Hampshire, England
James Kellaway
James Kellaway
Edward Kellaway
Harry Kellaway
Edward Harry Kellaway

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Copyright © 2009 Callaway Family Association

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

A Study of Morgan Callaway

Morgan Callaway was born on April 16, 1831, in Washington, Wilkes Co., GA. According to Mrs. Bessie Hoffmyer, author of The Callaway Clan, his full name was Joseph Morgan Callaway, but no other source gives him the first name of Joseph - not even the family Bible record. He was the son of Jesse Callaway and his second wife, Mrs. Mary Ann Wooten Sherman. He was a full brother of Thomas Wooten Callaway, the maker of the Wilkes County map we have all now seen.

Morgan probably lived as a youth in the Wingfield-Cade-Saunders house, now called "Peacewood", which we saw on yesterday's tour. He attended the Academy in Washington and after graduation there, he came over here to Athens and attended the University of Georgia. He received the Bachelor of Arts degree in 1849 and the Master of Arts degree in 1852.


1. Historic American Buildings Survey L.D. Andrew - Photographer. May 17, 1936. FRONT ELEVATION
HABS GA,159-WASH,2-1


2. Historic American Buildings Survey L.D. Andrew - Photographer May, 17, 1936 SIDE ELEVATION
HABS GA,159-WASH,2-2


3. Historic American Buildings Survey L.D. Andrews - Photographer. May 17, 1936. VIEW OF OUTBUILDINGS East of House
HABS GA,159-WASH,2-3


4. Historic American Buildings Survey L.D. Andrew - Photographer May 17. 1936. VIEW OF OUTBUILDINGS Back of House
HABS GA,159-WASH,2-4

After receiving his degrees from the university, he went to Augusta and read law with Judge Toombs. He was admitted to the bar in 1852. Morgan fully intended to follow his ambition of becoming a lawyer. However, his father was so opposed to this profession that he gave it up.

Morgan had married on April 8, 1851, Miss Eliza Mary (called "Leila") Hinton of Greenville, Ga. After his marriage, he followed the teaching profession for a time.

Morgan Callaway had joined the Baptist Church during a revival while he was here in Athens. For some reason he was later "excluded" from membership. Later, while living in north Georgia, he applied for membership in a local Baptist church. They refused admission to him unless he were properly restored to membership in the church he had originally joined and then transfer by letter. Morgan refused to consider this approach to church membership and exercised an alternative. He joined a Methodist congregation. It seems that the Baptists' loss became the Methodists' gain!

In 1860, he was licensed to preach by the Methodist Episcopal Church South and became a member of the Georgia Conference at the same time. At this time he was appointed President of Andrew Female College in Cuthbert, Randolph Co., GA. After serving in that capacity for a little more than a year, the Civil War erupted and he volunteered for Confederate service. He became a lieutenant in Cutt's Battalion and was afterwards made a captain of artillery.

In the book Four Years Under Marse Robert, the author, Robert Stiles, Major of Artillery in the Army of Northern Virginia, relates several incidents involving Capt. Calloway (Stiles spelled the name "Calloway" with an "O").

This book, as the author himself says, was only designed "to state clearly and truthfully what he saw and experienced as a private soldier and subordinate officer in the military service of the Confederate States in Virginia from 1861 to 1865." "Marse Robert" was, of course, General Robert E. Lee.

Stiles first introduces us to Capt. Calloway in the following way, and I quote (pp. 229-231):

"One of the Georgia batteries of our battalion - 'Frazier's,' as it was called - was composed largely of Irishmen from Savannah - gallant fellows, but wild and reckless. The captaincy becoming vacant, a Georgia Methodist preacher, Morgan Calloway, was sent to command them. He proved to be, all in all, such a man as one seldom sees - a combination of Praise God Barebone and Sir Philip Sidney, with a dash of Hedley Vicars about him. He had all the stern grit of the Puritan, with much of the chivalry of the Cavalier and the zeal of the Apostle. No man ever gave himself such a 'send-off' as Calloway did with his battery. He gripped their very souls at the first pass.

"Not long after he took command, the battalion spent a few days in these Poison Fields of Spottsylvania. The very evening we arrived, before we had gotten fixed for the night, a woman came to battalion headquarters and complained that one of the men in 'that company over yonder' - pointing to where Calloway's guns were parked - had gone right into her pen, before her very eyes, and killed and carried off her pig.

"The Colonel directed me to look after the matter, and the woman and I walked over to the battery and laid the complaint before Calloway, who asked her whether she thought she could point out the man. She said she could, and he ordered his bugler to blow 'an assembly.'

When the line was formed he gave the command, 'To the rear, open order, march!' the rear rank stepping back two paces further to the rear, and he and I and the woman started to walk down the front rank: he, as was his wont when on duty, having his coat buttoned to the chin and his sabre belted about his waist.

"When we had gotten a little more than half way down the line some lewd fellow of the baser sort, sotto voce, made some improper remark about the woman, and his comrades began to titter. With a single sweep of his right arm, Calloway drew his sabre and delivered his blow. The weapon flashed past my face and laid open the scalp of the chief offender, who dropped in his tracks, bleeding like a stricken bullock. There was a shuffle of feet moving to his aid.

"'Stand fast in ranks! Eyes front!' cried Calloway, the sabre dripping with blood still in his sword hand. Needless to say they did stand, as if carved out of stone, while in absolute silence Calloway, the woman and I, completed our inspection of the front, and when about midway of the rear rank she, without hesitation, confidently identified the thief. His manner and bearing under the charge convicted him, and Calloway had him bucked and gagged and sequestered his pay to reimburse the woman. He then gave the order, 'break ranks!' and sent the surgeon to attend the wounded man.

"I never saw a company of men more impressed. Indeed, I was myself as much impressed as any of them, and was at considerable pains to catch the feelings and comments of the men. 'Whew!' said a beg fellow, who had been a leader in all the lawlessness of the battery, "what sort of a preacher do you call this? Be-dad! and if he hits the Yankees half as hard as he hit Dan, it'll be all right. We'll have to watch him about that, boys. We'll get his gait before long."

At another point, when Stiles was questioning and protesting the wisdom of their march to Beulah Church, as Col. Cabell was doing per his orders from his commanding general, he solicited the opinions of other officers. Of Morgan Calloway he said, (p. 270) "My reserves were the officers and men of the battalion, all of whom I think were fond of me. If I mistake not, Frazier's battery led the column. I am certain it did a little later. Calloway, its commanding officer, to whom we have already been introduced, was one of the very best of soldiers, as the reader will soon be prepared to admit. He was the first man I fell in with as I fell back, Colonel Cabell and little Barrett, his courier, being ahead of the column. Calloway asked me if I didn't think we were running some risk, entirely unsupported as we seemed to be, and outside our lines. I told him what had occurred (with Col. Cabell), and he smiled grimly."

And referring to an incident that occurred as that day wore on, Stiles wrote (pp. 271-273), "As the morning wore on and we were leaving our infantry further behind, my uneasiness returned; and besides, I had been away long enough from the colonel, so I remounted and rode forward to the head of the column. He had been very emphatic in repelling my suggestions, but I thought it my duty to renew them, and I did. He was even more emphatic than before, saying he had been ordered to take the battalion to Beulah Church, and he proposed to do it, and he even added that when he wanted any advice from me he would ask for it. I felt a nearer approach to heat than ever before, or after, in all my intercourse with my friend and commander, and I assured him I would not obtrude my advice again.

"I reined in my horse, waiting for Calloway, and rode with him at the head of his battery. I had scarcely joined him when Colonels Fairfax and Latrobe, of Longstreet's staff, and Captain Simonton of Pickett's, dashed by, splendidly mounted, and disappeared in a body of woods but a few hundred yards ahead. Hardly had they done so, when pop! pop! pop! went a half dozen carbines and revolvers; and a moment later the three officers galloped back out of the forest, driving before them two or three Federal cavalrymen on foot - Simonton leaning over his horse's head and striking at them with his riding whip. On the instant I took my revenge, riding up to Colonel Cabell, taking off my hat with a profound bow, and asking whether it was still his intention to push right on to Beulah Church? Meanwhile, minie balls began to drop in on us, evidently fired by sharpshooters from a house a short distance to our left and front. The Colonel turned toward me with a smile, and said, in a tone that took all the sting out of his former words, if any was ever intended to be in them; 'Yes, you impudent fellow, it is my intention, but let's see how quickly you can drive those sharpshooters out of the house!'"

In writing of events that occurred during the battle of Cold Harbor in 1864, Stiles told this of Morgan Calloway: "There was a gunner in Calloway's battery named Allen Moore, a backwoods Georgian and a simple-hearted fellow, but a noble, enthusiastic man and a soldier. The only other living member of Moore's family was with him, a lad of not more than twelve or thirteen years; and the devotion of the elder brother to the younger was tender as a mother's. We had all day been shelling a suspicious looking working party of the enemy, and about sunset I was visiting the batteries to see that the guns were properly arranged for night fighting. As I approached Calloway's position the sharpshooting had almost ceased, and down the line I could see the figures of the cannoneers standing out boldly against the sky. Moore was at the trail adjusting his piece for the night's work. His gunnery had been superb during the evening and his blood was up.

"I descended into a little valley and lost sight of the group, but heard Calloway's stern voice; 'Sit down, Moore! Your gun is well enough, the sharpshooting is not over yet. Get down!' I rose the hill. 'One moment, Captain! My trail's a hair's breadth too much to the right,' and the gunner bent eagerly over the hand spike. A sharp report and that unmistakable crash of a bullet against a man's head. It was the last rifle shot on the lines that night.

"'The rushing together of the detachment obstructed my view; but as I came up, the sergeant stepped aside and said, 'See there, Adjutant!' Moore had fallen on the trail, the blood flowing from the wound all over his face. His little brother was at his side instantly. No wildness, no tumult of grief. He knelt on the earth, and lifting Allen's head on his knees, wiped the blood from his forehead with the cuff of his own tattered shirt sleeve and kissed the pale face again and again, but very quietly. Moore was evidently dead, and none of us cared to disturb the child.

"Presently he rose - quite still, tearless still - gazed down at his dead brother and then around at us, and breathing the saddest sigh I ever heard, said: 'Well I am alone in the world!'

"The preacher-captain sprang to his side, and placing his hand on the poor lad's shoulder, said confidently: 'No, my child; you are not alone, for the Bible says: "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up:" and Allen was both father and mother to you; besides, I am going to take you up too, you shall sleep under my blanket to-night.'

"There was not a dry eye in the group; and when, months afterwards, the whole battalion gathered on a quiet sabbath evening, on the banks of Swift Creek, to witness a baptism, and Calloway, at the water's edge, tenderly handed this child to the officiating minister, and receiving him again when the ceremony was over, threw a blanket about the little shivering form, carried him into a thicket, changed his clothing, and then reappeared, carrying the bundle of wet clothes, and he and child walked away, hand in hand, to camp - then there were more tears, manly, ennobling tears, and the sergeant laid his hand on my shoulder and said, 'Faith, Adjutant, the Captain has fulfilled his pledge to that boy!'"

There were other references to Morgan Callaway regarding military action, but these few given above serve to exemplify his character as seen by Major Robert Stiles.

After the war, Morgan returned to Washington, Georgia where, according to Mrs. Hoffmyer, he taught at the "young Ladies Seminary." He was also pastor of the Washington Methodist Church from 1866 to 1868, and again for about a year in 1869. During this time, his first wife died. She is buried at Resthaven Cemetery in Washington. There are apparently no dates on her tombstone, but she is given the dates 1828 to 1867 in the lineage of Morgan Callaway, Jr. in Vol. III of First Families in America.

On June 24, 1868, in Washington, Ga., Morgan married his second wife, Miss Georgia Frances Ficklin. She became well-known and revered in her own right. She served for 18 years as corresponding secretary for the East Georgia Missions Society. Born in 1832, she died in 1897 and is also buried at Resthaven Cemetery in Washington. From 1868 to 1871, they resided in La Grange, Ga., where Morgan served as President of La Grange Female College.

In 1871, Morgan Callaway was awarded the degree of Doctor of Divinity by Emory College (now University) which was then located at Oxford, Ga. He was thereafter connected with Emory as Vice-President and professor of Law and English for 20 years (1871-1889) except for an interim of two years (1882-1884) when he served as President of Paine Institute in Augusta.

Dr. Morgan Callaway was the author of a number of published works, mostly on the subjects of English and religion.

I have been told that there are today no living descendants of Morgan Callaway and his two wives. If anyone wishes to take issue with this statement, please do so. There may be some descendants of an adopted grandson, but these would not be of the blood line. The children of Morgan and Leila Hinton Callaway were:
1. Thomas Carlyle (Carl) - called Charlie on the 1870 census), born 1852; died 1890; married Achsah Harlan of Tunnel Hill, Ga. They had no children.
2. Maude - born 1854; died 1945; married Rev. James Meriwether Lovett. They had no children, but adopted Charles Edward Bulloch.
3. Wootie Mary - born 1856; died 1857.
4. Jesse Hinton - born 1858; died 1894; married Ella Mallory of Albany, Ga.
5. Leila Sallie - born 1860; died 1862.
6. Morgan, Jr. - born 1862; died 1936; married Loru Hamah Smith. Morgan, Jr. became a distinguished and well known professor in his own right. He was professor of English at the University of Texas for 46 years and became widely known as an authority on the English language. He had received both his Bachelor's and Master's degrees from Emory before he was 22 years old. He became adjunct professor of English at Emory, leaving to accept a position at Southwestern University. After two years he entered John Hopkins University as a university scholar where he was elected to Phi Beta Kappa. After receiving the Doctor of Philosophy degree he returned to Southwestern University. In 1890 he was called to a position at the University of Texas where he was located during the remainder of his career.
7. Cabell - born 1865; died 1866 at the age of three months.

Morgan and his second wife, Georgia Frances Ficklen, were parents of one daughter:
8. Hattie Vason - born 1872; died 1882.

Perhaps an appropriate final tribute to Morgan Callaway is this, from a column in "The Atlanta Journal" of December 4, 1931, entitled "A Candlelit Column," by Corra Harris and as quoted by Mrs. Hoffmyer in The Callaway Clan:

"Here the Methodism of me knelt in tears. For the Oxford I knew was so thoroughly tinctured with Methodism that the whole life of the town flowed in and out the doors of this church. How well I remember the men who used to stand in the pulpit . . . Dr. Moore, the ascetic old Isaiah whose ministry put the fear of God into many a wanton youth. Dr. Morgan Callaway, with his elegance and sword-clashing salute to the Commander-in-Chief of all mankind. A fearless old soldier of the cross with a back so straight and a manner so proud one could not escape the impression that the Lord had decorated him for distinguished service . . ."

~ This paper was prepared and read by CFA Genealogist, Sherrill Williams at the annual (1983) Callaway Family Association meeting in Athens, Ga. and published in the Callaway Family Association Journal Vol. IX, 1984, pp. 18-22.

Dr. Morgan Callaway's line of descent is as follows:
Peter Callaway
John Callaway
Edward Callaway
Joseph Callaway
Jesse M. Callaway and 3rd wife Mary Ann Wooten Sharman
Dr. Morgan Callaway

~ pictures of Wingfield-Cade-Saunders House, 120 Tignall Road, Washington, Wilkes County, GA from:
The Library of Congress American Memory web site.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Copyright © 2008 Callaway Family Association