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Her Tree Story, My Genealogy Blog
Her Tree Story,
My Genealogy Blog

The Grand-Girard Book

Written by Frederica G. G. Rogers
and printed approximately 1923

[BIO 053]

The Grand-Girard book is shared here with the express permission of Lucille (Elliott) Deiterle (current owner of the book) and Virginia M. (Copas) Dieterle (Lucille's daughter-in-law and transcriber of the book).

Rev. Emile and wife Georgianna
GRAND-GIRARD

(page 1, no page number)
FREDERICA G. G. ROGERS
1842-1923
“Her children rise up and call her blessed.” -- Prov. xxxi, 28.

(page 2, no page number)

PREFACE

At the earliest solicitation of several members of the family who are deeply interested in this research, I have consented to collect and write a short sketch of the “Branches”--giving the names and as much of the personal history as will be available and necessary. I have endeavored to be full and accurate in tracing each family down to the present day. There are a few whose history I was anxious to give but failed to secure the necessary information. For assistance I am under obligation to dear Mother who has placed in my hands most valuable documents in French, copied by Father from the papers in Cousin Auguste’s possession, while visiting France in 1872. Also to cousin Julia Park, who is the oldest grand-child living. I am indebted to sisters, Emma and Katherine, for the valuable help in the display of Curiosities, Passports, etc., etc., together with the sketch of the early life of Mother in Virginia and Kentucky, which was written by Katherine from facts suggested by Mother.

[Dieterle’s Note: In Preface. “Mother” is Georgianna Herdman Grand-Girard; “Father”, Emile F. Grand-Girard; “my hands”, Frederica G.-G. Rogers, and “sisters Emma and Katherine”, three daughters of Georgianna and Emile Grand-Girard.

The following selected pages (43-51 in Chapter 19) were in part “written” by Georgianna (Herdman) Grand-Girard whose parents were Francis Mary “Polly” MaKemie and Geroge Herdman who married 26 January 1802 Augusta Co. Virginia.]

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NINETEENTH CHAPTER.

The early life of Mrs. Georgianna Herdman Grand-Girard, written by her seventh daughter Catherine, in the year 1897. All the facts and incidents were given her directly by her mother at the age of 77.

Home Letters to Home People

In answer to my children’s children repeated urgings, “Grandmama, do tell us about when you were a little girl” I will try in a prosaic way to do my best, realizing that the effort, though devoid of literary merit, will at least please those dear to the mother heart. As I grow nearer, year by year, to the boundary line separating the earthly life from the Heavenly, a feeling comes over me somewhat like a wanderer who, reaching his journey’s end, pauses a while on the threshold, looking back over the way he has come. He rejoices that he is so near “Home, sweet Home” and reflects upon the goodness and mercy that have followed him all the days of his long pilgrimage. So while standing on the brink of my Heavenly home, I feel and live again in the past. This distance of age has vanished, the perspective of waning years is obliterated. Sweet dreams of the olden time flit through “Memory’s Hall”, bright visions of youth come thick and fast, until in fancy I am transported back into the unforgotten realms of long ago.

First Letter (Birth and Parentage)

The little family history which I am attempting to write, will prove, I am afraid, unsatisfactory. It is very one-sided. What I do remember concerns the MaKemie branch, as even less is known of the Herdman ancestry. It is to be regretted that so few dates have been preserved in the family record, but such as we possess, while meager, are much prized. My maternal ancestors were of Scotch Irish extraction. They came to America from Ireland and settled in Virginia. One of three brothers, Francis MacKemie, was sent over by Presbytery of Laggan, Ireland, in the year 1683. Three years afterwards persecution began by the Dissenters of the English church, and continued for about six years. Still Presbyterianism flourished and thrived, for the Lord was on our side. Francis MacKemie was the first Presbyterian minister in America, and as such is considered the founder of the denomination in this country. He died in 1708, and is buried ten miles from the church he loved and planted in Somerset County, Maryland. We are not positive as to the year the two brothers of Francis migrated to the United States, and we are sorry, as it is through them that the McKamie’s of today are descended, as Francis left no son to transmit the name McKamie. My grandfather lived in Augusta County, near Staun-

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ton, Virginia. His family consisted of two sons, James and John, and three daughters, Jane, Nancy and Mary. The plantation adjoining his own, he gave to John and built for him a large brick house. To James belonged the homestead. Here is where my mother was born, reared and married. Her husband, George Herdman, a Virginian land and slave holder, was also of the good old Presbyterian stock. A sister of his had wedded Alexander Graham, a merchant of Bowling Green, Ky., and thus it came about that soon after their marriage, the youthful couple were persuaded to move to that enterprising town. Father at first purchased a farm near Bowling Green, but as his family increased and slaves multiplied, his quarters became too narrow, so he moved farther into an adjoining county, Logan, buying more land and a more commodious dwelling place. Here I was born, Sept. 11, 1820, the youngest of ten children. When I was four weeks old a singular disaster broke out among the cattle called the “Milksick”. It was caused, everyone thought, by poison administered to the cows. Suspicion fell upon a free colored man, a good for nothing dissipated fellow, who had tried to court one of father’s slave-girls. Father opposed his suit, and forbade him the place, and he in revenge was heard to say “he would get even with him yet.” He disappeared at the time this occurred and was never seen again, an additional proof of guilt. Before this was discovered however, the villian had accomplished his purpose. This was the current belief and report at that time, but father and three of the little ones had died of the terrible malady. When mother was told that father had been stricken down, she cried out in her weakness and anguish, “It was hard, so hard to give up the children, but if your father dies, I cannot stand any more.” When she heard he had gone to that better land, she said, “O God, I cannot live now.” Sister Jane, scarcely more than a child, took me in her arms and tried to arouse her interest in the little helpless infant, beseeching her to live for their sake, saying over and over “what shall we do with the baby?” Mother’s answer was a prayer: “Oh God, have mercy on us!” This crushing blow proved too much for her exhausted strength, and the day following she also passed away. They were buried in the same grave. Mother was forty years of age, apparently of robust constitution. Many of her friends have since told me that she was a beautiful woman, with black hair and eyes, fair rosy complexion, and at her death, considered one of the handsomest women in that part of the country. They always end by remarking that none of her children are as half as good looking. But take heart, dear grand-children, perhaps beauty is like disease, it may skip a generation or two and then blossom out in the third. The living children were now separated, relatives taking them under their protection. Thus in a little space of time a whole family was torn asunder, a happy and prosperous home broken up, but truly the Bible promise was verified, “When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.” I was nursed by a kind neighbor, until I was one year old, when I was taken with James, Augustus, Jane and Mary back to Virginia, leaving two children, John and Lavinia, in the care of Uncle

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and Aunt Graham. Two uncles came for us in a big wagon across the Alleghaney Mountains, a drive of 540 miles. As I was a tiny delicate child the motion of the wagon made me sick, so each in turn carried me in their arms, but usually it was my old colored Mammy who did the promenading. It is strange, but driving has affected me in the same way ever since. When we reached James MaKamie’s home in the old Virginia State, we were glad, I know, that the tiresome journey was over, although I have no recollection of the trip myself. They weighed me at the time, and I only balanced the scale at 12 ½ lbs., one pound for each month of my little life.

Second Letter--Incidents of Early Childhood in Virginia

Here on the old homestead we all remained for a time. Then Aunt Jane McKamie Corby claimed me, and I was taken with Jane to her home, on another farm in Bath County. I can remember but little of the dear old places, only the wide old-fashioned halls with waxen floors, the huge fire places with immense dog-irons upholding in their brazen arms piles of glowing pine, the four poster bedsteads all canopied over, the curiously high cupboard, displaying within the beautiful transparent china of long ago. A few little things come up fresh in my mind, bits of happening, which impress the memory of childhood. While Uncle Robert was very busy building a new house I came to the conclusion I must help in some way, so one day I slipped out, took a hatchet and cut off my big toe. As I was only three years old I cried, but was soon doctored and petted to my heart’s content. My toe was replaced and in time was entirely healed, but I never meddled again. When I was five years of age we were awakened by an earthquake which shook us all up considerably. Another time I was sent one morning into the garden to gather tomatoes. Stooping down I heard a queer sound like the chirping of a chicken. All curiosity I peered around and discovered it was the stifled croaking of a frog, in tithe act of being swallowed by a big snake. I picked up a stick and threw at its head when it dropped the frog and disappeared. I called Uncle John, who soon found and killed it. It seems to me that it is usually the feeling of pain or fright which impresses us most in youth, and stand out more vividly in our recollection. Reptiles prevailed in that locality on account of its nearness to the mountains, which in their beauty and grandeur towered around and above us. Like the Psalmist of old, we could lift up our eyes each morning to the “hills from whence cometh our help.” Old Sol did not show his face until eight o’clock, but very welcome he was then, for the mornings were so cool. In our stone spring house the water was always ice cold, and the river running near made a delightful place in summer. Now I am wandering from my “snake story”. You must pardon the rambling propensities of your grandmother, for she has never posed as a writer before. One day I killed a rattlesnake and took it to Uncle, who told me it was one year old as it had but one rattle. Though I was not a strong child yet I did not know what fear was, and often surprised people by my nerve and perseverance. One day coming from school

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I saw something shiny gliding along in the sand by the river. I concluded it was an eel, and as they were considered quite a delicacy at home I determined to catch it. Try I did, but you have heard of the expression, “slippery as an eel” haven’t you? Well, I failed to get it with my hands so I gathered some leaves and with their aid went home rejoicing, the eel nearly a yard long, wriggling its best to get away. It is needles to say I enjoyed my share of the delicious fry. The skin of the eel was used as cords in those days, it being so strong and durable. When I was in my tenth year I went back to Uncle James to spend the winter and attend school. Uncle was an old bachelor when he married a young butterfly of a girl, and no one thought her fitted for the duties of married life, but all were mistaken for she developed into an efficient housekeeper, a good wife and mother. She was kindness itself to me. One-half a mile from Uncle’s were some Sulphur Springs, where a large comfortable hotel had been erected. It soon became quite a resort. Here I went sometimes to visit a young friend, and we spent many pleasant hours together. The winters were long and cold. One winter I remember especially, the snow lay on the ground several feet deep, until March. One sleigh ride I took was over fences four feet high.

But the summers were our chief delight. Sister Mary, five years older than I, lived with Aunt Nancy Hoggsett on an adjoining farm, and so we had fine times together. How we children all frolicked in the sugar maple woods, piling leaves as high as a house, then running and jumping through them. My dear little grandchildren and great-grandchildren, rejoice in the days of your youth. Indulge in all simple healthy plays, and you will grow strong and be better fitted to do any work the Master may have for you to do.

My first pet doll was a wonderful affair carved out of wood, with bright glass buttons inserted for eyes, and altogether “a thing of beauty and a joy forever” in my childish eyes. One day one of my boy cousins got angry at me and jammed out one of the buttons. My! how enraged I was, crying out that he had killed my baby! A favorite doll of mine was one my teacher made for me once while I was sick. Miss Prey was from New York City, so, though only a rag baby, it was dressed in the very latest style. (We then lived in Gaultown to be near church and school privileges.) Among our playthings was a beautiful deer which the boys had captured in the forest and nurtured until it grew very large, but unfortunately a strange dog chased it into the creek, breaking its leg, so it had to be shot. The famous Hot Springs of Bath County, Virginia, were situated about twenty-five miles from our home. A funny story was told of a farmer who, traveling near the place, was frightened at the description given by some one. When he heard the water was hot enough to boil an egg he ejaculated “Well, its too near the Infernal Regions for me, so I’ll move on.”

Third Letter--Trip Across the Mountains

As my sisters and brothers grew older they one by one returned to Kentucky. I was fifteen years old when James, my oldest brother, went

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after the “baby” as they still called me, and was given explicit orders not to go back without her. He had driven over in a buggy, but as I knew my weakness I soon persuaded him to buy me a horse. A splendid creature he was, too, of a beautiful cream color, with mane and tail of jet black. He had been a race horse, but that I did not know until I had tested its strength and swiftness. It was one bright morning in May, 1835, when we mounted our horses fully equipped for our unusual outing of five hundred and forty miles. We were not burdened with a “Saratoga”, but carried only what was needful. A riding habit of dark green cloth, a silk hood of the same color, gloves, etc., and a silver-mounted whip completed my outfit. It was a wonderful ride over the mountains, down valleys, through gorgeous woodlands, across rocky caverns, now on dizzy heights above the clouds, every thing brilliant with the sunshine, then down below to find a drizzling rain, and gloom all over. One day a terrific storm overtook us in a forest; rain fell in torrents, trees cracked around us, lightning flashed making our horses rear and plunge. We knew we must hurry out, or be killed, so giving rein to our animals we flew through the woods, barely escaping the falling branches, and at last much relieved, reached the open road again. The clouds by this time had lifted and we saw a hut some distance away, where we concluded to dry our clothing. Alighting we found only a few coals on a deserted hearth. Brother said he thought the sun would serve our purpose better than that poverty stricken fire, so we rode on. Some days we made eight or ten miles before breakfasting, getting our meals or lodging wherever we happened to be, farm house or hotel. Just before reaching the lovely Kanahwa Falls, where we rested for a while, and drank in their charming beauty, we rode in view of the celebrated Hawk’s Nest. Dismounting we stood on a huge over-hanging ledge and gazed down thousands of feet. A magnificent panorama unrolled beneath us, the Kanawha gleamed like a silver thread, the trees seem like tiny bouquets of green and write. It would take too long to describe all the curious things that impressed us. In one spot we could see into seven counties. Of the Gauley River, where it intersects the Kanahwa, not intermingling with its waters but flowing side by side, half a mile, its greenish color contrasting strangely with that of the yellowish muddy water of the Kanahwa, of the coal and salt mines with their wells dug deep in the river bank, pumping up the salt water, of the great tanks on shore, the fiery furnaces, the bags of salt, the oxen as they came forth bellowing with their load of coal, all comes back with the vividness of yesterday. One night we put up at Charleston Hotel, then crossed the river on the ferry boat, and still following our circuitous route, we passed the Big Sandy, and entered our old Kentucky State once more. Wending our way southward after twelve days in the saddle, we reached our destination with wornout bodies and gladsome hearts.

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Fourth Letter--Life in Bowling Green

My life in Bowling Green was with my sister Lavinia, who had married Dr. Graham. Sister Mary stayed there too until her marriage with a brother of the Doctors, then moved into a home of her own, right next door, our gardens adjoining. Brother James boarded at a hotel. The exposure on our trip resulted in a severe illness, and it was a long time before I was myself again. Every attention was given me; my long hair was cut short, for being the youngest of the family I must still look the baby. Brother James said I must never marry, but keep house for him. I replied that I would make the promise if he would do the same, but he refused to bind himself, so it left me free, a few years later to follow my own inclination in the matter. However, I would have been safe for brother remained a bachelor until his death at eighty-eight years of age.

Among my girlish recollections was a trip of fifteen miles below Bowling Green to a Shaker Settlement. We, a party of girls and boys on horseback, attended their church services. The building was large with two entrances, one for the women and the other for the men, for they sat and worshipped apart. As they entered they took off their hats and bonnets and upon nails in the wall. As the meeting progressed we were much interested in their songs and movements. The leader had previously delivered quite a discourse on behavior in the Lord’s House, and prepared us in a measure for what followed. Indeed as these queer evolutions reached their height or climax I am afraid some of our party betrayed a smile, but it made me feel sad. I never could laugh in church, it seemed like desecration. I gave my heart to the Savior when only ten years old, and I cannot remember when I did not love Him. So the quaint ways of these Shakers oppressed me sorrowfully, and I was wondering what it all meant, when one young girl came forward singing as if inspired and whirling about like a top, while the others formed a ring around her in the broad aisle, and caught her as she fell exhausted. Sometimes, we were told, these persons would lie for hours in a trance, seeing and hearing nothing. it appeared to us more like poor abused nature, a case of nervous prostration. Still, as they were honest and conscientious in their manner of worship, we must not judge. After admiring the beautiful grounds and gardens--farms for the production of flower and fruit seeds, we traveled homeward, much pleased with our ride and visit.

I once had the pleasure of listening to a very learned sermon by Rev. Alexander Campbell, considered the Father of the Cambellite Church. He preached for three hours. Among other interesting things he said: “We might go to the river Jordan and be baptized many times, but it would not wash away our sins, unless we were converted.” Bowling Green of fifty years ago was a beautiful place, full of stir and life, for which the charming city of today need not blush. It is twenty-five miles from the celebrated

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Mammoth Cave. Often I visited a girl friend some distance out of town. Near the hotel where she lived was a Cave Mill, its roof and sides of solid rock. Beneath the wooden floor, on which the machinery rested, dashed the stream, roaring at times like some caged animal. On each side rose the hills at about one hundred feet. Beautiful ferns and shrubs decorated this picturesque spot, and here was my favorite retreat. You must not imagine, children, that we only studied the beauties of Nature, yet it is a blessed thing to be able to appreciate His handiwork, and to look up from “Nature to Nature’s God.” We had good schools in Bowling Green. We even boasted of a teacher from Boston, who directed up in calisthenics, and our Music Professor, if ability is guaged by expensiveness, was certainly of the very highest order. He gave me private lessons and I practiced at Brother John’s. His wife was an excellent musician, and interested and helped me in my music. You see I was fortunate in having many homes to visit--Brother Augustus, sister Jane (who married Mr. Akin and moved to Louisville, Ky.), Uncle Graham’s family, and a number of cousins. In the spring of 1840, our brother-in-law, died after illness of only five days. There was a great deal of sickness, and he was going night and day, thus sacrificing his life for the welfare of his people. Brother James then left his bachelor quarters at the hotel and came to live at sister’s. The summer following brother and I were both stricken down with typhoid fever. How much we missed our dear brother doctor’s care, although we had the best attention possible. That fall occurred the famous campaign of 1840, Presidential nominees being W. H. Harrison and Tyler, “Hero of Tippecanoe and Tyler too.” It was a very exciting time. All was life and bustle. The drums beat, flags waved, the crowds buzzed and swarmed like so many bees. A lengthy procession marched to the river Barren, one mile from town, to witness a Barbecue. Dozen of girls in gay attire followed in line. The Military Guards (of which your grandfather was Captain) walked on either side of us, arrayed in their handsome regimentals. A huge pit had been dug into which the fatted oxen and pigs were lowered amid the hurrahing of the people. Speeches were made, bands played, etc. At night came the Inaugural Ball, at the Green River Hotel. Here assembled all the beauty and fashion of the town. Delightful music penetrated every where, the breath of flowers perfumed the air, all was gaiety and confusion. An immense hall was provided for the dancers and parlors for games. Refreshment stands stood temptingly within reach, a pyramid of cakes five feet high graced one table. Those of our party who did not indulge in dancing and card playing enjoyed themselves in quieter ways. Being in partial mourning for our brother Doctor, I did not dress as gaily as the rest. I wore a black brocaded skirt with bodice of white satin. Your Grandfather was not present, but attended prayer meeting instead. He was more indifferent than I to such worldly things and would allow nothing to interfere with his religious duties. By the way, when at prayer meeting that eventful evening he was surprised to see a certain young lady of his acquaintance

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there too. Thinking her unusually devout and self denying, he accosted her after the meeting and found out, to his astonishment, that it was not her preference for Church services but want of a new frock that had kept her from the Ball.

Fifth Letter--Courtship and Marriage

Mr. Grand-Girard was born at Hericourt, France, June 4, 1816. He was educated at Strasburg, and emigrated with his family to this country in 1833. He came from Cincinnati, Ohio, in order to plan and superintend the building of a bank in Bowling Green. He was an architect, skilled particularly in the finer work of ornamentation. There was no indication at this time, and not until a few years after our marriage, that I should be a minister’s wife, but I have lived to bless my lot, a quiet sheltered life, not trialless but through all the comforting assurance of divine live, the sweetness of work in the Master’s service. No matter in what calling he was engaged your father was conscientiousness itself. But he needs no eulogy from me, enshrined as he is in the hearts of his children today. For the benefit of the younger ones of the home circle, those who do not even remember his kind face, I have written more than he would himself approve, but I could not help it. The former Presbyterian Church in Hillsboro, Ohio, was planned and erected by his aid. It was the old Crusade Church. The dear old place, so filled with hallowed associations, where our family worshipped so many years, and from whose threshold was borne our loved ones to the “City of the Dead”, there to await the Resurrection morn. No wonder we love to think of the good old times when we were all happy together, before the present home was divided, some going to homes of their own, others to their “Heavenly home.” I had seen your father many times before we became acquainted, sometimes at Church services, or on parade, when he drilled hiss regiment, the girls all admiring his fine figure and soldierly bearing. One evening I went to spend with a friend, whose baby was dangerously ill. It was there in this house of mourning (for the little one died before daybreak) that I first met Mr. Grand-Girard. He was much interested in children, and sat up that night to nurse the little sufferer. In the early morning we walked home together, for Jack, our colored boy, had returned with my horse the evening before. Our friendship progressed rapidly after this, Mr. Grand-Girard accompanying me to several parties, etc. He could not speak English very fluently, but I always managed to understand him and never laughed at his quaint mistakes, which trait he afterwards confessed commended me greatly to his favor, also my diffidence was praiseworthy compared with some of the girls who endeavored to attract his attention. So my dear grand-daughters, be modest and retiring like the sweet violet, nestling in the shadowy nooks, and you will have your reward. When he came to board at brother John’s, although coaxed to remain for lunch or dinner I never would consent. We were a very matter of fact

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couple, for even after our engagement Mr. Grand-Girard in his calls on me, would never stay later than 10 o’clock P. M., an old fashioned custom which cannot be improved upon in my estimation. When Brother James and I were sick, he would come to see my brother, and sometimes inquire as to my welfare. We were married New Year’s Eve, 1840, by our Pastor Rev. Templeton, but we did not leave Bowling Green until Spring. Our young minister, quite a friend of your Grandfather’s whom he often teased by telling him that I was such a fine young lady, and of so good a family, that if he was not married, he would take me himself. Of course, my dears, this is strictly confidential and must not be blazed abroad. We had a home wedding, only sixty guest present. Born and reared in a slave state with darkeys on every hand to do one’s bidding, my knowledge of real work was limited, and I was illy prepared for the cares of married life, but given a willing mind and strength of body, one can learn most every thing when forced t o by circumstances. On this eventful day I helped all I could, doing the little extras, arranging tables and flowers, etc., until at four o’clock sister insisted on my going upstairs to dress, as only two hours remained in which to don my wedding gown. It did not take that length of time however, as my bridal attire was simplicity itself. The skirt was of white french organdie, with hone-combed trimming, edged with satin folds, which reached half-way up the gown. The bodice was of the white satin with elbow puff sleeves and rounded neck with lace and gold necklace. My hair, that had grown but little after my illness, was hidden by a row of dark curls, surrounded by a slender wreath of white flowers. Gloves, slippers, etc., completed the costume. At 6 o’clock P. M., or early candle lighting, as the hour of dusk was called, my two little cousins clad in white and bearing aloft two pink and blue candles, in their long glass holders, preceded us down the stairway. Then your father, handsome and distinguished looking in my eyes, and myself followed to the parlor where we were soon united in the holy bonds of wedlock “for weal or woe, till death do us part.” Ah, death cannot part long, and how happy will be the reunion above! Our earthly homes so dear to our hearts and these precious times of sweet communion, are only a foretaste of that “blissful abode where we shall never say goodbye. Where across the dark river, we will be happy forever in that beautiful land on high.

“There’s a beautiful land on high,
To its glories I fain would fly,
When by sorrow pressed down,
I long for my crown,
In that beautiful land on high.

In that beautiful land I’ll be,
From earth and its cares set free,
My Jesus is there
He has gone to prepare
A place in that land for me.”

[Note. Pages 52-69 do not relate to Georgianna’s stories.]

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TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER.

The Herdman Family

Great-grandfather Herdman married Miss Ewing. We have no date of his birth and marriage. Their children were George and Jane Anne. Jane Anne married Alex Graham.

George Herdman (our grandfather) was born Feb. 10, 1775, and died near Bowling Green, Ky., Oct. 1820. He was married in 1801 to Mary Francis Makemie, daughter of James Makemie, a descendant of the brother of Francis Makemie, the first Presbyterian Minister and the founder of Presbyterianism in the United States in 1685. Mary was born on April 11, 1777 and died Oct. 18, 1820.

Their children were:
James Herdman, who was born April 21, 1803, near Bowling Green, Ky. He did not marry but proved a real God-father to his numerous family. He was a successful merchant, and was a great power for good in the Presbyterian Church of Bowling Green, Ky., of which he was a life-long member and also in the community at large. He led the choir for upwards of forty years, and even after his blindness, in the closing years of his life, his beautiful tenor voice would be heard singing his favorite hymns, as the people gathered to worship in the House of God. He was cheerful and content in his affliction, saying “he could hear the voices of his friends and loved ones, if he could not see their faces; he knew how they looked anyway.” He possessed a remarkable memory and it was a great pleasure for young and old to visit him, in his fine, large hospitable home. He was called to his Heavenly home May 21, 1891, in the ripe old age of 88.

Perhaps it would not be amiss here, to mention the colored members of this household who daily ministered to Uncle Jeems’ need and comfort, especially one young man, Robert Tyler, who from childhood was his right hand man and faithful “body-guard.”

Jane Ewing was born June 24th, 1804, and on Jan 1st, 1830, was married to William Akin. They had one son named Joseph, who married Kate Ousley. There were three children, Elizabeth, Jane and William. Joseph was a physician in Louisville, Ky., where he died in 1905. Elizabeth married Dr. Philip Barbour, a child specialist, of Louisville, Ky., in Jan., 1909. they have one daughter, Catherine.

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Jane is an able and experienced Kindergarten teacher in Louisville, where she lives with her mother.

Lavinia Herdman was born May 18, 1807. She was married first to Dr. Graham of Louisville, Ky., by whom she had two daughters, Ellen and Harriett. After the Doctor’s death she was married to Robert Davis. They had one son, Henry, who married and lives in Louisville. He is an Evangelist.

Ellen Graham married John Rogers, by whom she had five children.

Harriet Graham married Sam McCoy. They have four boys and one girl.

Alfred Augustus Herdman was born April 9th, 1811. He died Aug. 3, 1852. He was married to Nancey Maxey by whom he had two children, John and Margaret. John married Camille Hess, who kept the Moorehead House in Bowling Green, Ky. They have two sons, Carl and Guy.

Margaret married Sam Stout. They have three sons, Sam, Ed, and John.

John G. Herdman was born Feb. 8, 1813, and died Oct., 1883. He married Sarah Newton. Their children were, Alice and Rachel. Alice married James Hackney, who was a great sufferer for years before his death, in 1903. The two sisters made their home in Bowling Green, Ky. They are both gone so there are none left of this family.

Mary E. Herdman was born Aug. 13, 1815. She was married to Dr. Volney Graham, who died not long after their marriage, leaving his widow with one daughter named Jennie. She then went to her brother James’ home where she kept house for him until his death. Her daughter Jennie having married Rufus Bingham, died not long after her marriage and her husband also, leaving two little ones to her mother’s tender care, and she nurtured them as lovingly as her own--she was all in all to them. Volney, though a young man at the time of his unexpected death, had already won an important place in the hearts of men and also in the business world. The daughter Rufine lived with her grandmother and great-uncle, even after her

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marriage to John E. Du Bose, a prominent lawyer of Georgia. He became Judge in Bowling Green, Ky., where they resided in the old home, so sacred with its hallowed memories, till his death. She is not robust in health, so spends the greater portion of her time in Georgia and Florida, but comes occasionally to her “Yankee cousins” who always give her a hearty welcome. The companion of Mrs. Du Bose, in many of her wanderings, is Miss Frances Du Bose, the sister of the late Judge Du Bose, with who she made her home for many years. She had charge of a private school in Bowling Green, Ky., until her health interfered and she now lives with Mrs. Du Bose.

Great-Aunt Jane Anne who married Alex Graham had quite a family: Volney, Asher, John, Albert, Harriett, Ewing, Eliza and Amanda.

The daughter Harriett married Milburn Howeth, her daughter Hallie married A. Anderson. Their children were Mame, Gertrude (who met with a tragic death some years ago), Eliza and Perry. Mame married Dr. Barr of Bowling Green, Ky., and they have several children. Eliza married Mr. Hewett of Louisville, Ky. Perry is still single, is a fine musician as well as a business man--is in the railroad.




Letter (e-mail) from Virginia M. Dieterle to Jennifer McKemie dated 26 March 2008.

Jennifer,

Below is information related to the “MaKemie” family. This information is extracted from an assumed unpublished book entitled, “Grand-Girard”. You have my permission as well as Lucille Dieterle’s to use this information in your website entitled “One Name Study: Makemie”. That is, if this is the kind of information that is helpful to you and other Makemie researchers. If you choose to use this information in any form, please give credit to both Lucille (Elliott) Dieterle and myself, Virginia M. (Copas) Dieterle. Also in separate file is a picture, of Emile and Georgianna (Herdman) Grand-Girard; this picture is on the cover of the book.

After visiting the “One Name Study”, I contacted Lucille (Elliott) Dieterle (the “owner” of the Grand-Girard book) on January 24, 2008,” She gave me verbal permission to submit contents from the book relating to the MAKEMIE family to a website called “One Name Study: Makemie”. We are unable to determine if the book is published, or an unpublished work. Lucille said she got the book from her Aunt Minnie Elliott, and said that her father, Emile Elliott, did not have a copy. I suggested that since Aunt Minnie provided the Elliott content for the Grand-Girard book perhaps her copy may have been a “proof” copy. Lucille did not know, but she thought it was a published book. Since there is no publisher’s page with a company name and date of publication, it is my assumption the book is unpublished. It was printed ca. 1923 and initially written by Frederica G. G. Rogers (1842-1923) and sisters, Emma and Katherine Grand-Girard (and possibly others in the family).

The following pages from the “Grand-Girard” book was typed by me and even though I have proofed my typing as best as possible, it is not proof-perfect; and I take responsibility for any errors typed in this submission. Please feel free to use all or part(s) of the text provided -- use whatever you feel is significant for the One Name Study.

If you have any questions, please contact me.

-- Virginia M. (Copas) Dieterle, daughter-in-law of Lucille (Elliott) Dieterle. [Note. Lucille (Elliott) Dieterle is 93 years old as of February 2007.]

Linage: Lucille (Elliott) Dieterle is a great-grand-daughter of Georgianna (Herdman) Grand-Girard (the story teller); Georgianna is the daughter of Mary Francis “Polly” McKemy who married George Herdman. Polly Herdman is listed in the 1817 will of James McKamey.