By
Sherlene Hall Bartholomew
I don’t know how it is where you live, but on my part of the
globe cardboard tombstones emerge in neighborhood hollows
and e’en grocery aisles, this time of year. Such
reminders of where we’re headed are intended, I suppose, to scare
up treats and spill wallets long before less fiendish fests claim
our resources.
All this spooking escapes Elijah’s disciples, who know graveyards
exist to celebrate life. My children can now laugh
about how cemeteries were my favorite scenic stops, while on vacation.
More than once I’ve stood alone at an ancestral grave, long after
daylight’s retreat, grateful for that chance to feel what sight
might block, while listening for voices in the wind.
It matters that we pause at every season to think
on what it was our Savior wrought. When we accept His gift, grave
sites seem more hallowed than haunted. Resting places for our
dead become sweet refuge where we can, with some excitement, look
for clues carved in stone. If we feel spirit presence there,
it’s certainly of the more friendly sort.
Cemetery sleuths have little doubt that ancestors beyond the
veil care that we find them. Some of us sense them as ushers
come to guide faltering steps down unfamiliar aisles. If you
can’t believe that, listen in on this true story:
Cold
Grippe
Sixth great-grandfather William Hall I was an Englishman.
He married Hannah Richardson near Philadelphia before they settled Halltown, in what is now West Virginia. They raised a family of eleven known
children in the verdant blue hills near Harper’s Ferry.
William’s namesake, a cousin of ours, descendant William III
married Miriam Tullis in 1784. They settled in nearby Charlestown, where Miriam gave birth to ten children by 1805, having
earlier lost one of them named John, when he was only eight days
old.
In 1806 more anguish struck this family, as the “cold plague”
spread through the area. This disease has been described as a
malaria-like ague, accompanied by devastating chills. That year
Miriam died after giving birth to a stillborn child, and William
buried not only them, but four other of their children--Mary,
Moses, Edward, and Annie, along with quite possibly another daughter,
Sarah.
As I catalogued all the deaths in this family, based on subsequent
research by Jane Hall, I could not imagine the grief this family
experienced that year. How did this young father stand it? However,
since this is not my direct line, I was soon off pursuing other
research leads, as I set aside memory of William and Miriam Hall
and their tragic loss.
Prayers
in Pickaway
In 1978 my parents visited Dan and me and our children, then
living in New York. While driving back to Utah, they stopped in Circleville,
Pickaway County, Ohio, where descendants of our direct line from
William, Anthony and Rachel (Simmons) Hall and other relatives
raised their families. There my parents, by miraculous means,
met Barbara Jayne Moore who, in her white nurse’s uniform, looked
like the angel she turned out to be.
Angels
come in strange disguises! This one posed as nurse Barbara J.
Moore, of Circleville, Ohio.
What happened in that meeting was recorded by Barb:
We only had about 5 hours with your parents, but the
experience was unbelievable! I wrote a story about it. Almost
every time I have to talk in church or share adventures with friends,
my son John says, “Tell 'em about the Halls, Mom.” Now I’ll share
it with you and your family:
October 8, 1978 turned out to be a warm Sunday afternoon
in Circleville., Pickaway County, Ohio. Since I am a nurse, I had to work that day, while
my husband John and two children, John W. (aged 10) and Jenny
(8), went to church at Greencastle. Before we left that morning,
I suggested that since we would both be coming through Circleville
at about 3:00 that afternoon, and I would probably be worn out, that
we stop in town for some lunch.
We met at the Blue Drummer at about 3:15
p.m. and went about our business of saving the starving. After
getting my tray, I headed for the farthest corner of the very
large dining room. Whenever we ate out, we liked to sit way back
in the corner, so we could have a little privacy, and our children
would not disturb others with their talking and moving around.
As I went through the dining area, I noticed that there were only
two other occupied tables and thought how nice it was to almost
have the place to ourselves.
Barbara and John Moore, about to
have an “unplanned encounter.”
When we finally settled down to eat, I noticed a man
and woman sitting at the very next table--just as close as they
could get to us. I whispered to John,"Look at that! Why did
they have to come way back here with us?"
John nodded his resolve to keep eating and not worry
about them. He and the kids started telling me all about what
happened at church that day. After a while I said, "Look
at that woman sitting next to us. I can tell she is listening
to everything we say!"
John again suggested that we “just eat and not worry
about her." Our daughter Jenny had a habit of leaving Primary
to sneak into Relief Society, insisting that she “liked to hear
the old women sing.” Remembering that, I asked, “Well, Jenny,
did you go to Relief Society again today?
That did it! The lady at the next table turned around
and asked, “Are you folks also LDS?” Before we knew it, concerns
for hunger vanished, while we talked, talked, talked!
They introduced themselves as Tracy and Ida Rose Hall
from Provo, Utah, and we introduced ourselves as converts of about seven
years. They had children living on the East Coast, so visited
them at this time each year. For the past four years, they had
been stopping for a few days in Circleville to do genealogy research
on their way home. They said they felt they had found everything
available in this area, so planned to leave the next day and not
return again.
I asked “Well, have you found everything you wanted?
“We found much information at the Court House, at libraries,
and places like that, but we can't find any grave sites. Do you
know of any old graveyards around here where we can look for some
family names?”
I then asked what name they were looking for.
“Hall.”
“Spelled 'H-A-L-L’? There are lots of old graveyards
around here,” I gasped. “I really wouldn't know where to start!”
That’s what I said, but I immediately and strongly felt
as if someone was trying to tell me, “Yes, you do! Here we are!
Find us! Come on!”
The subject of the conversation changed, but I still had this
really strong feeling. Finally I said, “When do you want to go
look at graveyards?”
“Right now,” urged Sister Hall. “We are ready!”
Ida-Rose
and Tracy Hall, ever “at the ready” for adventure!
I excused myself, went to the manager's office, and
asked to use his phone. He was not very willing, but finally
consented when I told him it was most important. I called my
mother, who is never home on Sunday afternoons, asking myself
why on earth I was doing that. I really didn’t know why, but
knew I had to call her.
Unbelievably, she did answer the phone and ended up
inviting over these folks we had just met at the Blue Drummer.
My parents, William and Marguerite Barthelmas, raised
five children on a large farm in southwestern Pickaway County.
where Mom still lives. Mom has a large collection of antiques
and also many Indian relics found on the farm. The house is registered
in the National Registry of Historical Homes. As I brought our
new friends over there, not quite knowing why, I told myself that
they at least might find some of this local history of interest.
When we got there I asked my mother to take us to see
the tombstones that are on the farm that I had not seen for years.
So we loaded back into the car and drove about a mile down the
road and parked in the ditch.
We all got out and Mom led us through this rickety old
gate, held together and in place with gobs of bailing wire. We
must have been an interesting sight to passersby--three adults
and two children in their Sunday best, led through a cattle lot
by a nurse in uniform and a little lady.
Our trek took us around the granary and the big barn,
across a lane, down a creek bank, across the creek, and up the
opposite bank, around the in-ground silo and out across another
field.
I kept thinking,”This is so stupid! These stones probably
are not even still around.”
I had no memory of what names were on those stones or
even if they had inscriptions. I asked myself, “Why am I taking
these people out here? They are going to kill me for dragging
them in this heat through all this for nothing, but it’s too late
to turn back now.”
Mom led us to a far part of the field and pointed to
a corner of the farm under a tree: “Those stones are over there,
but how are you going to find them?” Weeds were matted together
and so thick, we could hardly see the fence. But we started pulling
weeds and scratching around, looking. Finally we uncovered one
small sandstone marker, then another, and another.
Mom said, “Three, that's all there are!” Then we had
the task of cleaning them off to see if maybe we could read the
names.
The first name uncovered was William HALL! The sound
of it went through me like a shock. The second stone was for “Wife
Mary Hall,” and the third was inscribed “Infant Hall.” Each stone
also had the birth and death date under the name.
Stones marking William
Hall III and 2nd wife Mary (Evans) graves on
Barthelmas Farm in Wayne, Pickaway,
Ohio
Then Brother Hall pulled a piece of paper out of his
coat pocket on which he had listed some of his relatives, as copied
from records they accessed in the attic of the courthouse. About
the third name down the list was William Hall, followed by that
of wife Mary, and infant Hall. Dates on his paper matched dates
on the stone, except for the fourth number of one of the years.
We were all so flabbergasted, we could hardly speak.
We could not believe our find! The spirits of those
Halls were there so strongly, you could almost reach out and hug
them. Brother and Sister Hall were almost overcome with the joy
and excitement of all this. The children were busy digging in
the brush to find more.
All I could think was “How did this happen?” Brother
Hall wrote down every little detail about the place, how we got
here, and who was in attendance. We stayed there for about an
hour, basking in the joy and spirit of the moment.
I had not seen those little stones since I was about
six years old, when my older brother and I tried to dig up the
graves with sticks I had, however, thought about them many times,
with sadness, because those markers seemed deserted and forgotten.
I wondered why nobody seemed to care. Now those feelings are
replaced with gratitude to know that someone out there does think
about them and does care. And to think that I found them!
There are other incredible aspects of this experience.
I am the only member of the Barthelmas family who is LDS. I am
one of only three or four people in the world who knew about those
graves. Since that time, my mother and brother have taken steps
to preserve them in such a way that they can enjoy a view of sky
each day.
After we left there, we visited a couple of other small
old cemeteries in the area. Finally we drove into the graveyard
where my father and older brother are buried. The caretaker just
happened to be there, so I asked him if he knew of any other Halls
buried there.
“Oh no, all the Halls are buried in the Hall cemetery
over in Mead.”
Mead is a little wide spot in the road near where we
live, east of town. So, off we went again, back to town, and out
the other side. Sure enough, there behind a church is a cemetery
and, indeed, most of the stones were inscribed “HALL.”
By this time, it was getting dark, so we could not study
the stones closely. We looked around for a while and decided to
call it a day. We really hated saying goodbye to our new friends.
Sister Hall said, “We have prayed about these genealogy
trips, but I never dreamed they would bring all this, on our very
last day here!” I looked at her and said, with a big smile, “That's
just like us Mormons."
Williams who Wouldn’t
What a fun story that was to hear by phone, after Mom and Dad got home, and
also to read later, as told by Barb. However, when I compared
Dad’s notes at that farm plot with dates for our known ancestors
and relatives, I could not find a match, nor could my parents.
Information on those stones did fit some other unconnected data
about Halls that Dad had brought with him to the cemetery plot,
thinking they were probably our people. Dad said they had all
been so excited, he did not have the heart to tell Barb they could
not identify those graves as belonging to our Halls. Once more
I filed away an intriguing and compelling circumstance involving
William Halls, with hope that one day this might all make sense.
Some thirteen years later, just a little over a month ago, I corresponded with
fellow Internet researchers about another William Hall in our
family. This William Newton Hall married Mary Brenner. As I
thought on this family, I remembered the William Hall grave in
the cornfield, next to that of his wife Mary, and wondered if
this was the couple. What a disappointment when the dates again
did not match.
NetWit finds a Fit!
Still, I felt the unmistakable impression to send an e-mail, asking fellow Hall
researchers whether they knew of another William and Mary couple
who were also buried in Pickaway County.
We Internet cousins, including Jane Hall, Kathy Pyles, Roscoe Dearth, and Delight
Heckelman, compare census information and notes in our databases,
scour the “Net,” as well as various archives and libraries, and
pick each other’s brains, trying to track down and connect our
people. We have become quite the team, each with a specialty
to share. Along with more frustrating parts of “The Search,”
we NetWits share a lot of laughs.
Within a day I got back this e-note from Jane, 7 Aug 2004:
Sherlene, I wonder if the cemetery in Pickaway where your parents copied
grave information was Barthelmas or, perhaps, Mt. Pleasant. William
Hall (son of William Hall & Elizabeth Lucas) and his 2nd wife
Mary were buried in the first, and his son William Lucas Hall
& wife Mary were buried in the latter. Just a thought.
“JUST” that thought set my chair spinning, once I remembered that
Barbara Moore's birth name was "Barthelmas.” To think that
Jane had finally identified those graves on Barb’s family farm!
I copied off the story you just heard about Barbara’s leading
my parents to those graves and sent it to all the cousins, letting
Jane know I was sure she had finally identified the William Hall
and wife Mary who were buried in the cornfield. Of course I asked
how on earth Jane made the connection.
Jane replied, citing part of Barbara's letter, in which she said she belonged
to the Barthelmas family:
Bingo! That was William Hall & Mary Evans! William
Hall, War of 1812, d. 11 March 1838 age 77y/29d - b. 1761 &
wife Mary d. 6 April 1836, age 64/1/17 Barthelmas farm Wayne Twp.
Mystery solved!
Jane
Garth
O. and wife, Jane Hall, outside the Family History Library, Aug.
2003. They were in Salt Lake celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.
By now I was off the chair, in dance-mode, shouting about our "find."
Then I called Mom and Dad to tell them that their trek around
that cornfield on that hot Sunday afternoon, twenty-six years
ago, was not in vain—that they had, in fact, found the grave of
William III, who had lost his wife and so many children to that
epidemic in Virginia! Next I called Barb Moore to tell her we
finally found what she thought we knew all along!
Once again Barb blessed our lives by making the trek through their family farm
to take the more recent photo of those graves you saw above.
Because her widowed mother is ill, at eighty-six, she has not
been able to keep up that little graveyard on her large farm.
How grateful I feel to members of the Pickaway Plains Chapter
DAR, for finding that cemetery and recording information on those
stones while it could still be read! Sadly, when Barb found the
graves this time, William’s gravestone was broken in two, Mary’s
was totally gone, and another small stone could not be deciphered.
Even our most striking memories can fade with time. Now Barb is not entirely
sure there ever was an infant’s grave, and we have lost track
of my father’s notes, taken the day they found those graves.
We wonder if there are other stones buried there under grass,
weeds, and corn.
Landed by Deeds!
Now came the challenge to document the identity of those buried on the Barthelmas
farm. We did know that after his wife Miriam and so much of William
III’s family died, he married Mary Evans and fathered an additional
six children by her.
It’s easy to get confused, among so many William Halls, but deeds helped prove
that it was, indeed, William Hall III who moved his second family
to Pickaway County in about 1835, only three years before his
death. Finding those deeds was a remarkable story in itself.
At this point we knew the who and where and were
close to the when that mattered so much in the lives
of this family. But still the question remained: What,
then, brought William III and his second family from Virginia
to Pickaway?
It occurred to me that he had perhaps come to know his first cousin, my ancestor
William Hall, of Pickaway County, when they both fought in the
War of 1812. Did my William persuade William III to move from
Virginia that September of 1835 to be near them in Ohio?
Shared Sorrows
One thing for sure--when these first-cousin William Halls got together, they
had much to share about joint experience and suffering. Not only
did they both endure the War of 1812, but both met great sorrow
through the “cold plague.” Nine years earlier, my William (who
had buried his first wife, my ancestor Sarah Francis) was executor,
with his second wife, Barbara West, to the estate of his brother
Joseph. In 1826, not only Joseph died of this plague, but it
also took his brother, James A.; probably a sister, Mary (Martha)
Bowsher, and also William’s sister Rachel’s second husband, George
Davis. In two separate states, with no contact we know of, namesake
descendants of original Virginia settlers William and Hannah Hall
lost some dozen members of their families to the same terrible
disease.
Hallowed, healing places
On an upcoming hallowed eve, on about the 169th anniversary of when
William Hall III joined his Pickaway County cousin with the same
name, Dan and I look forward to coming with our children and others
in our family to a place of great peace. There we will join hands,
kneeling at sacred altars, to act as proxies for William III and
his family, in our quest to link members our family as part of
one eternal chain.
As we participate in this divine plan to seal parents to each other and children
to their parents, we will know that we are part of prophecy fulfilled.
Our hearts will be among those turning to our fathers, as we know
theirs have turned to us, as promised in the book of Malachi.
We will once more receive witness, perhaps as joined by William
III and his family, that our Redeemer lives and that He, indeed,
has conquered suffering and death.
I hope to someday visit what is left of those gravestones on the Barthelmas
farm.
I know it will be hard to see how much has been lost to time. Somehow I already
know that despite all that may be broken, lost, or overgrown,
that same Presence felt by Barb Moore and my parents on that memorable
day will still abide. I will leave confirmed in my notion that
graveyards are hallowed, healing places.
