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From: Wtynf <>
Subject: [GenChat-L] Fwd: Aunt Charlotte's book (Uncle Henry)
Date: Sat, 28 Mar 1998 19:50:13 EST


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Sender: Walt 55 <>
Subject: Aunt Charlotte's book (Uncle Henry)
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Word came to us that Uncle Henry disappeared. He suffered at times from a
strange malady, Aphasia, I expect they would call it now. He would wander away
when in one of those curious lapses and find himself, often many hours later,
in strange surroundings with no memory of what lay between, with no knowledge
of where he was, of how he came to be there. He was sensitive about it and
loth to inquire the way to his own home, even should he meet anyone, and in
those early days, that was quite unlikely. So sometimes he wandered for hours,
hunting for some familiar place or object that would reveal to him where he
was and the direction in which lay his own home. He and Aunt Rachel lived at
the foot of the hills, behind them lay miles and miles of timber and tangled
brush.

So one evening a little before dark, Aunt Rachel sent word to Father that
Uncle Henry was gone. It was cold, freezing weather and she was worried for
fear he would die of exposure somewhere in the hills, unable to find his way
home in the darkness.

Father sent Clark Edes across the river to where a brother lived, while
Father and our boys and the Indians Jack and Joe, went to hunt for Uncle
Henry. Clark Edes and Uncle Bill joined them later. Clark was badly
frightened, he told of hearing a strange noise by the side of the trail across
the river. He had heard it as he was on his way to Uncle Bills. He said that
it sounded like a horse "champing its bit" And came from a tangle of brush
below the foot log over the shallow slough. In Father's worry over Uncle Henry
and in the hunt for him, all through the long winter night, the noise that
Clark told about was forgotten.

No trace was found of uncle till late the next morning when a stranger told
of seeing a man five or six miles away. The man had passed his camp just about
daylight, the stranger told of noticing that he was bareheaded and that his
hair and beard was white with frost. The wanderer inquired directions, the
stranger gave them as best he could. Uncle had found him and they were almost
home when they met him.

When Father returned, cold and tired to our house, he remembered again what
Clark had said about the strange noise across the river, so he went at once to
see what it was. Father had set a man over the river the evening before and he
thought of it again, something that the man had said to him seemed strange, so
he went at once to investigate. He heard the noise exactly as Clark had
described, and it was as Clark had thought, a saddle horse champing at its
bridle bit. From that day to this, no one has seen or had the faintest trace
of Jim Davidson He rode away from the ferry to vanish as completely as though
he had never been. For several years my principal entertainment was mourning
over Anna Marie lee's grave,being chased by Spanish cattle or hunting for Jim
Davidson's bones. I hunted for Jim Davidson's bones till long after everyone
except his father, had forgotten him.

Walt Davies
Monmouth, OR

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