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Note: The Courage of Molly--Written by Her granddaughter, Louise King.
Molly was her name. Although she was nearly 20 years old, she was just a little girl. For quite sometime, Molly had been on her own. Her mother had died when Molly was a very young girl and shortly, her father disappeared. His addiction to drink drove her mother to a early grave. Molly then found it necessary to find some means of support. Caring for a number of children was Molly`S job, but it earned her keep. It was an already too crowded house, and Molly soon felt that she was a burden more than a help. Her thoughts finally turned to the often told story of her uncle in Louisiana. But Kentucky was far from Louisiana, and Molly did`not know how she would manage a way to go, but her determination drove her relentlessly. Molly was an industrious little girl who had worked hard in the tobacco fields of Kentucky. In spite of her small body, Molly could do work as older, larger people. But her heart fluttered at the thought of making such a long journey. After many trials and measures Molly finally mailed a letter to her uncle in Louisiana. It was very difficult for her to know how to address this letter as she didn't even know her uncle`S name. She knew that he lived in Clairborne Parish, no more. You can imagine the surprise of the postmaster to the little community, when he noticed a letter addressed "To my Uncle". Although it was addressed in this peculiar fashion, it was postmarked "Kentucky". The postmaster scratched his head, and thought a bit. Then he remembered the sister of Jim Johnson, who had passed away in Kentucky. He remembered the sister`s death had caused Jim Johnson great concern and grief, and the fact that a niece was alone worried him to no end. Money was practically non-existent, but by toiling from sunup to sundown, the people were able to keep enough food on the table for their ever-increasing families. Jim Johnson was one of these farmers. As he read Molly`s letter, tears streamed down his workworn face. they were tears of sadness and tears of gladness. He could guess all the heartache Molly and her mother must have suffered. He did`nt know how he could do it, but he must find a way for this relative of his. With so many mouths to feed in his house, Jim knew that one cow less was going to missed; nevertheless, he and his wife agreed that it was the only way. Molly had some uneasy moments before she received the money from her uncle. Only then did she tell her employers of her plans. They were very afraid for her and explained over and over to her the dangers of the fearsome trip, but Molly was a very determine girl, and she felt an uncontrollable urge to be with some of her own flesh and blood. Molly thought: `Everyone has gone to church. My things are packed, some in the black cedar chest that George made for me, and oh, yes, I have Mama`s little trunk, which is all I have left of hers. Oh, how I hate goodbyes: Now is the time for me to leave, as no one is here, I must go". Never had Molly been so alone as at this moment; but never had she been afraid and full of doubts as she was as she passed the church. As she told her children many years later, she would never be able to forget the uneasiness she felt as she passed the church and heard the congregation singing "Rock of ages". Memories of the ride down the river did not linger in Molly`s mind like the ride on the buckboard. With the money her uncle Jim sent her for the trip, he also sent instructions of how to reach the old man with the buckboard. If she was frightened on the night she left, she was terrified as she climbed aboard this contraption. She wondered if she would reach her uncle`s house all in one person. The driver raised his whip in the air, and yell to the top of his grumbling voice: "Hold on for dear life. You ain`t got enough money to take you so fur!" Molly knew that if this was the way this old man felt, that he would let her lie where she fell if she did tumble from the buckboard. She certainly did "hold for dear life." "I am a young woman, sir, and I can assure you that I will find a way tom earn money, and I will send it to you later. Just give me your address and full name," Molly told the driver. A big grunt was the old mans disbelieving response. Molly`s promise was later fulfilled. When they finally reached their destination, the old man threw Molly`s trunk and chest from the top of the buckboard over into the year, and rode on his grumbling way. Soon after her arrival, Molly realized that she was just another mouth to feed. Although she work hard and really tried to earn her keep she still found herself feeling "in the way". In the little community, every member of the household was expected to attend church every Sunday. If you did`nt go to church, and sit with your family, people expected to hear that someone in the family was sick. Again and again Molly watched these people sitting together, and had a strong urge to "belong". About this time Molly`s thought turned to the problem of finding a husband. She knew she could be a good wife to a man if he would be good to her. Near the front, on one side of the church, sat a very precise looking gentleman. Each Sunday morning, Molly would watch him furtively, of course. She felt that he was watching her also, but it was quite some time before he found courage to approach her. Yes, Mr. Bridges was a very precise gentleman. He told Molly of his two motherless children, of his struggle to care for them after his wife`s death. In later years Molly told her children that she had no love for this man that she decided to marry. Love, for Molly< grew out of years of belonging to someone who treated her with kindness, and of finding a person who give her the one thing that she never had, a home. The strictness of Mr. Bridges was in great contrast to anything that Molly had ever known, but she learned to live with it, and a real, understanding love and devotion grew out of it. The children came fast, and there were 8 added to the 2 that Mr. Bridges already had. Molly continued to work hard, helping her husband to make a good Christian home for the children. There was never much money, but Mr. Bridges did`nt believe in giving his children money. He always said: "You`ve got plenty eat on the table, and a roof over your head. What do you need money for?" There was some resentment over the calico dresses that the girls had to wear: and over working in the fields beside the boys was not completely to their liking. But boys and girls respected their father. Many times while they were children one of them would go to their father`s trunk to get something for him. there they would cast their eyes on the only money that they ever saw. They were curious about this at first, but Molly would tell the children that this was for the church, and most of the time, for missions. Yes, Mr. Bridges was a good man, respected by others in the community; but, in spite of his primness, people lived in awe of him. Molly watched her husband give his all to the church, and, when in his last years, his health was impaired, he would get out of bed to go help build an addition to the church. He gave his all to the church, and to his God; a way of life with him. While still a comparatively young man, Mr. Bridges died, and left Molly with the burden of raising several children to manhood and womanhood. It was a difficult task for her to assume, but all the children proved to be "fruit of the vine."
In these children, born of a strict father and a very determined mother there are strong traces of both parents. Molly was my grandmother. One of her children, is my mother. Molly held me upon her lap when I was a baby, a very tiny baby. I only wish I could have known her better.
Louise King Shreveport, Louisiana Molly worked in the Tobacco Fields
Molly's daughter Sally Minerva's granddaughter sent this story to Joyce Allwhite.
Mary Frances Howard daughter of John and Minerva (Atkins) Howard
Mary Frances Howard was probably born in Louisiana since she lived in Claiborne Parish during the Civil War. Her mother, Minerva Atkins was the sister of Bluford Atkins of Athens, Lousiana. (Bulford's wife was a Knox and his grandson was mayor of Homer, Louisiana). Mary Frances had three older brothers: George Howard, Fletcher Howard, and Dandridge Howaar, whose descendants still live in Northern Louisiana.
After the Civil War, John & Minerva Howard and daughter Mary Frances went to Cairo, Illinois (reason unkown). Both John & Minerva died there a year or so later, about 1872 from some kind of fever.
They had no relatives in Cairo, as Mary Frances was "boarded out for her keep" to a couple who ran an Inn. Mary Frances was afraid of the man (it seems his wife was also afraid of him) and wrote to her Uncle Bluford Atkins in Athens or Homer, Louisiana for passage money to get back to Louisiana. He sent her the money and instructions on what boat to take, etc. (this was before 1873, it could have been any year between 1867 and 1872).
The Inn-keeper's wife helped her to slip away during the night and get on a Steamship, which went all the way down the Mississippi River. Mary Frances got off the Steamship at "Atkins Landing" in Louisiana, which was just that, a landing where passengers and cargo were loaded or unloaded. A mail wagon met the Steamship to pick up the incoming mail and Mary Frances begged a ride to the nearest house. The mail wagon took her to a Baptist precher's house and the preacher sent word to her Uncle Bluford Atkins, who came to get her.
She lived with her Uncle Bluford until she married Solomon Frank Bridges, a widower with a small son, Neri Aleander Bridges, age 9, (Neri's sister Mary died as a small child)
This story is more accurate but simular but different.
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