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| Frankfort, Kentucky, courtesy of City of Frankfort |
In my continuing series about materials originating from the Lindsey family of Frankfort, Kentucky, I am sharing one of my favorite items in the cache of documents rescued from a secondhand store. I am not related to this family, but felt compelled to save these materials. This is a handwritten essay written by a young Maria Lindsey about her grandmother's first buggy ride.
Maria was the daughter of Helen Talbot and John Brown Lindsey. She was born in 1863 and died in 1945. She was the second eldest child of Helen and John Lindsey. She did not marry and is buried with her parents and siblings at Frankfort Cemetery.
Maria's two grandmothers were Isabella Price Weisiger (paternal) and Ellen Sophia Hart (maternal). Isabella died in 1852, prior to Maria's birth. Ellen died in 1903, at the age of 85, and thus would have been alive during Maria's childhood and able to tell her a story like the one Maria relates in her essay. However, the grandmother in this essay is called Virginia. I cannot find a Virginia in the Lindsey and Talbot family trees, so this is quite a mystery. Also, Maria mentions three other people in her essay, Louis Mervin (a close family friend), Beck Martin (a cousin), and Peter Stoub or Straub (her great uncle). I cannot find accurate records for any men with these names who have a connection to the Lindsey and Talbot families. Regardless, the essay is a charming look at changing times and the relationship between grandmother and granddaughter.
The notation that this essay is "about 1000 words" indicates that Maria may have written this piece as a school assignment. The original document and a transcribed version are below. A big thank you to my friends at the Marin County Genealogical Society for working on this transcription.
About 1000 words Miss Maria Lindsey
401 Wapping St.,
Frankfort,
Grandma’s First Buggy Ride Kentucky
Grandma and I are good pals. The
Blessed darling thinks she is very modern and so
she is on the outside from top to toe, but inside
she is sentimental and Victorian.
This morning when I was rummaging
for stamps in her old secretary, I found, in one of
the secret drawers, a small silver box and a
pink note.
“Too large for matches and too small
for cigarettes,” I said as I held up the box for
her inspection.
“Stop prowling in my property,” she
said sharply “and bring that silver box and pink
note to me.”
silently scanned the note. “Poor Cousin Louis!”
she sighed, “dead and gone. I shall never forget
my buggy ride with him.” Then she giggle like
a girl.
“Aha! Grandma. So you had your
rides too. Tell me all about it.”
A buggy, my dear, is a more proper
vehicle than an automobile. However, my parents
were as much opposed to buggy rides as your
parents are to automobile rides. I took my
first buggy ride with Cousin Louis.”
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“Cousin Louis what and where and how___”
“Cousin Louis Mervin. The Mervins
came out from Virginia to become acquainted
with Great Uncle Peter Stoub and they were so
pleased with Kentucky that they spent the rest
of their lives here. They were not blood kin,
only connections by law, but they called Uncle
Peter, uncle, and all the rest of us were their
cousins by courtesy. There were four of them.”
“Well, never mind the others. Just
tell about Cousin Louis.”
“He was a funny little old dandy when
I knew him, fussy and wordy. We laughed at
him behind his back; but no one dared to laugh
before his face. He was a perfect gentleman, quite
Chesterfieldian. Cousin Beck Martin used to
say that when he was in Morgan’s Cavalry he
rode the tallest horse and carried the longest
sword in the Confederacy. He was a beau,
a real beau of my mother’s. He addressed
her and she always had a soft spot in her
heart for him although she loved another.
He called on our family four or five
times a year and took great interest in
mother’s children.
On one occasion, I think it was
Easter, for he always dined with us on
Easter Sunday, I was sent into the parlor
to entertain Cousin Louis until him while my mother
put finishing touches to the table.
He gazed at me reflectively and then
said, “My dear Miss Virginia, you are the
image of your mother.”
3
I was uplifted because I knew that
my mother had been a beauty and a belle, so I
exerted myself to be agreeable. Casting about in
my mind for suitable topics of conversation
I asked him if he was fond of trees and flowers.
“I worship horticulture,” was his
reply, “and I am especially partial to trees.”
“An what is your favorite tree?”
I enquired.
“The beech.”
“Mine too” I said
“He, then you must see my
beech woodland out in the Knobs.”
The next day I received this pink
Note. Read it aloud. It was before the days of
Telephones and all engagements were made by
Notes.
My dear Miss Virginia:
Will you honor me by
Driving with me to Fairyland this afternoon?
It will afford me the greatest pleasure to show
You my beech woodland and the hills
I suggest three o’clock as a
suitable time for our pilgrimage.
The bearer will wait for
an answer.
Your obedient servant
Louis Mervin
April 18, 1880
The bearer waited a long time
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for the answer on account of a spirited contest
I had with my mother.
“I will write and tell him that I
must decline on account of parental opposition
to buggy rides,” I said gleefully.
“Stop!” said my mother. “You will
do nothing of the kind. Cousin Louis would
be mortally offended”
I reminded her that she had made
me decline other invitations to buggy rides
without consideration for the tender feelings
of my friends. I wept and implored, but she
was adamant, so I had to write that I was
pleased to accept his kind invitation and
would be ready at three o’clock.
“How deceitful and hypocritical!
Grandma. How could you do it?”
“Shut up! goosey!”
“Go on.”
“When three o’clock came round, I was
dressed in my Sunday-go-to meeting gray
cashmere. It just escaped the ground, had a
bustle, big sleeves, and a darling gray cape
lined with pink silk. And I wore a Leghorn
hat trimmed with a wreath of pink
moss rosebuds.”
“Scrumptious! I wish I could have
seen you.”
“All the time I was thinking
how the girls and boys would laugh at
me and I wished it would be next day and
all over. However, I must say, that it
5
was rather thrilling as you young people
say when Cousin Louis arrived, dressed in the
height of fashion, lavender pants and tall
silk hat and driving a real wild horse.
The buggy shone like black satin.
The horse was so prance that
Cousin Louis got Matt, our colored boy, to
hold his head while he gallantly assisted
me into the buggy. He then sprang in with
more agility than I thought possible in a
gentleman of his age, grasped the reins,
and we were off. John Gilpin was a
mere circumstance. I glanced back and had
a glimpse of my mother’s face amused and
anxious at an upper window. I knew
that my brothers and sisters were peeping
through Venetian blinds at other windows.
Yes, Cousin Louis was a sport
and a good driver. We simply flew down
Main street, across the bridge, and were
out on the Bald Knob pike before I had
time to note the smiles of the populace.
And really, my dear, it was a beautiful
drive. You know what Kentucky is in
Springtime. Miles and miles we traveled
up hills and down hills and at last came
to the beech woodland. It was like going
through the graceful branches and glimmered
on the grey tree trunks.
After we drove through the
beech woodland we turned around at a
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stopped at a sp_?_ spring and Cousin Louis got
out and brought me a cool drink in a silver
cup he had brought for the purpose. A little
farther along the way I admired the dogwood
trees on the hill-side and out he jumped
again and climbed to the dogwood and
brought back to me great branches of the
lovely white blossoms. Then he scrambled
back into the buggy looking so hot and
tired. His poor little wrinkled face was red
and damp. As he sank into his seat he gave
me a tender loving look and said “Now,
my dear Miss Virginia, I am going to ask
you to grant me an old gentleman’s
privilege.” His eyes watered and his mouth
and nose gave funny twitches.”
“Gee! Did you slap him?”
“Ladies didn’t slap in my day –
I was simply petrified – I thought of jumping
out of the buggy and actually began gathering
my petticoats in one hand, when Cousin
Louis drew this silver box from his jacket
And said, “my dear, will you permit
me to take a pinch of snuff?”
“Did you take snuff, Grandma?”
I asked when I could speak.
“Did I take snuff? No indeed.
nor smoke cigarettes – We were ladies in my day.”
“Ouch! Ouch! Grandma. That hurts.”
Maria Lindsey
