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Date: 7/31/2001 8:36:58 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: ElnrGH
To: JoyceTice
I am sending this because although not verified
in any legal records, this story fits the kind of person my grandfather
,Edgar Brown, was.
He was born,second in order, to Rev. George
Brown and his wife, Catherine Campbell. The Rev. Brown had been ordained
in Scotland, but lacked the education to be ordained a US Methodist preacher.
He had to be content with a country parish, where they raised their own
food, supplemented by donations from the parishioners. The manse was poorly
heated and so was the church. Edgar's Sunday job was to go under
the church to a partial basement and pump the hand bellows for the organ
above. Edgar had two sisters and his mother was expecting a third
child when his father died of tuberculosis. The family moved to Elmira
where mother had family to help. Being the "man" of the family, Edgar did
odd jobs around town to help put food on the table. He was on the
street when a runaway horse came into view. Being strictly raised
to be helpful to all, he grabbed the reins of the horse and managed to
pull him to a stop. Riding in the carriage was Samuel Clemens.
Mr. Clemens tried to pay my grandfather, but he was raised to believe
you did not accept money for what should be your duty to help others.
Mr. Clemens was intrigued by this enterprising youth, and invited Edgar
to visit him in his study up on the hill - that rustic building on the
farm. Since Mark Twain always wrote about the things he knew,
it always seemed reasonable to us that my grandfather's story was true.
I hope this is interesting to others as it
has always been to us.
Eleanor Wendel Gunter Hobbs
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