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I have this old letter James Anson wrote.
James Anson was my Great grandfather
He owned and ran a store, taught school at the New Site Academy were he was the principle, was a farmer, and I do not know this to be fact, but was told he preached.
When his young son Norman died he wrote the following:
“History of our little Norman”
The subject of this history was the delight of our hearts. His lovly little form came into existence about twelve O’clock on Wednesday, the 17th of Oct. 1877. His stay with us was transient and sweet were the hours he spent with us, nno tongue can tell. He was the constant object of his mothers care as she sat him on the wash scaffold at the well and washed with great pleasure his little clothes. It was her delight to hear his sweet innocent little voice as he tried to jabber or sing. He could not talk nor sing, but his little attempts to do so were sweeter than any conversation or music we ever heard.
Notwithstanding he was very youn, he learned the meaning og one sentence, “Pa has come from school.” When his Ma would utter this sentence, he would hurry to the door, and if he saw his Pa, he would show his delight by crawling as far as he could and then stop and hold out his hands and utter his sweet little notes of inducement for Pa to take and love him. He would sit on the floor for hours and amuse himself and us by his little playful actions with his beads and spools and saltcellar, throwing and knoking them about over the floor, and laughing with joyful glee. When he became tired of his playthings, he would throw them aside and crawl near to us and show us that he loved us better than he did playthings. He would go with us to the grap vine and sit under the tree and eat grapes while Ma would gather for him some wild berries and Pa would climb the tree after the grapes and call to his son below, and throw him a bunch of grapes which he would pick up and eat with great pleasure. He was the joy of our life, the idol of our hearts. But these pleasures did not last long before that terrible monster called Death laid its cold and icy hands upon him and claimed him for its own, and removed his lovely little form from our midst, and his little soul took its everlasting flight to its maker who gave it where death has no sting and the grave no victory. His very short stay with us was numbered down to ten months and twenty six days, when on Friday morning about three quarters of an hour by sun, on the 13th day of Sept. 1878 the God that gave it took it back to himself to dwell forever in the bosom of his love
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and blessed be his name.
His Earthly Parents
Oct. 8th 1878
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