Autograph Books

When I was in Florida, going through some of our old family stuff, I came across three old autograph books. They're from the 1880s and once belonged to my great-great-grandmother, who lived in rural North Carolina near Fayetteville. In that part of the country at that time, one was unlikely to ever come across a celebrity, or anyone who would sign what we think of now as an autograph. Instead, these books contain messages from family members and friends, usually little rhymes or poems that were meant as keepsakes. (Sort of like our more modern school yearbooks.)

They also contain a few notes that I assume my great-great-grandmother, whose name was Maria Jane Bullard, wrote herself -- while dreaming of taking a trip in a boat to an exotic location, for example.

Here's one of the pages. Don't you love the penmanship?

What is the blooming tincture of the skin
To peace of mind and harmony within,
Comeliness of form, or shape, or air
Cannot with words, or deeds, compare.
                               Your teacher
                                          C. P. Jerome

Not everyone wrote so skillfully. Perhaps this was a school friend.

To Miss Janie.
It is sweet to wait
But oh how bitter
To wait for a girl
And never get her.
    From your friend,
               Purlie S. Tatum

This must have been a common rhyme back then -- it appears several times in the book from different people.

For Miss Janie,
Long may you live
Happy may you be
Eating ginger cake
And drinking catnip tea
      is the wish of your true friend
                   W. E. Gainey

This one is a bit bewildering. I think it must be a mistake. Either that or an insult!

May you always ascend
The hill of prosperity
And never meet a friend.
         J. C. Crisp

Some of the entries are dated. Again, great penmanship! Jane Bullard's sister, Lula -- who my grandmother knew as "Aunt Lu," though she was technically a great-aunt -- eventually married a Hall.

To Miss Janie Bullard
May your life as a snowflake be
That leaves a spot, but not a stain
    Is the sincere wish of
          Your friend
                   J. S. Hall
Idaho, N.C.
March 26, 1883

Incidentally, I can't find Idaho, N.C. on Google maps. Perhaps it no longer exists. Other communities mentioned in the books include Rennert and Lumber Bridge, where my family was from. (My grandmother was born in Lumber Bridge.)

I guess getting married and being a wife was the ultimate goal of many young girls in that era. When this was written my great-great-grandmother would have been about 16.

To Miss Janie
May your life be one of pleasure
And not one of woe and strife;
May you find a golden treasure,
In being a man's wife.
      Respectfully,
           Jas. H. Mitchell
April 8th '83

Eventually Jane Bullard did indeed get married, to a man named John Lee Cade. And here he is in her autograph book, with words written a year or two before they wed. (The note in ballpoint pen is in my grandmother's writing. Interesting that she refers to her grandmother as Jane Maria. I'm certain Jane was her middle name, though that's what people called her. Also, some sources give her first name as Mariah.)

The album is a garden spot
For all my friends to row
Where thorns and thistles flourish not
But only roses grow
            Fayetteville, N.C.
                           J. L. Cade

And finally there's this one, which despite all the heartfelt tenderness, family history and fine penmanship displayed in the other entries, might be my favorite.

For Janie
Love is a funny thing
Beauty is a blossom
If you want your finger bit
Stick it at a opossum
             T.C. 
                 Fayetteville, Oct. 4, 1885