(Father moved to Birmingham when I was 15 years old and moved back to this community when I was 17 years old. I well remember after we came back here there were some new folks moved in the community and I met here a stranger in this church who I thought was the prettiest girl I had seen in all my life, and that stranger was Miss Beatrice Davis. I want you to know I wasn't long in getting acquainted with her.)

During services my mind was roaming over this country thinking of the good times I had when I was growing up. My mind kept roaming. The services came to a close and I made my way out as soon as I could. As I got outside, the crowd began to gather round me to see who the stranger was. I told no one who I was but everybody looked like they knew me, but I didn't know anyone, so one would ask me a question and another would aske me something else. At last Sister Arbegena came around close enough to hear me talk. I didn't know her. she recognized me from my talk and she raised a roar, of course, shouting and rejoicing, and of course everybody knew me then, but I didn't know anyone. Sister held on to me and as the folks came around that I couldn't recognize, she would make me acquainted. So the biggest percent of the crowd I had known and been raised with. And 37 years of absence and time changes folks, their faces had grown old and their young expressions had faded away.

The preacher eventually got to me. He had found out who I was and he came up with tears in his eyes and put his arms around me and said--Cousin Oscar, no wonder I could hardly preach. As you came in out of the cemetary I heard some one say who is the stranger coming out of the cemetary and as you came in the church door and walked down the aisle you got the attention of my congregation and no one seemed interested in what I was saying. Cousin Oscar, I couldn't preach after I gave my text. I don't know if I got back to it or not...I said-No, Cousin John, I am sorry that I disturbed you and your congregation. I didn't aim to....He Said--No, Cousin Oscar, you did not disturb anyone. There was something peculiar about that service that I did not know then, but I understand now. As you came in the door you stopped and looked over the congregation just like you were looking for some one and as you came on down the aisle it looked like everyone had their eyes upon you and looked like you had the attention of the crowd and I never could get their attention anymore. And I understand now for there was such sentiment and the atmosphere about you, and such a bright and shining expression on your face. I don't wonder that you drew the attention of my congregation.

I said--Brother Bean, I am very glad that I have the priviledge and opportunity of testifying here before your congregation that I have salvation and saved from all sin, and I am serving the Great and Almighty God, the creator of this great Universe and Lord our Savior Jesus Christ, who by his saving Grace and Power is able to save from all sins. I am so glad that I have his love in my heart and I can serve him in Holiness. I am so glad for the experience of full salvation.

As I went on telling of what the Lord had done for me Brother Bean and several people standing around had tears flowing down their cheeks when I got through. The preacher said--Brother Robinson, I know you have salvation, but I don't know anything about the high experience you are talking about. I said--Brother, it is for you and all who will receive it. The crowd began to leave and I was invited by several to take dinner with them, but Sister and her two daughters said--No, he is going with us. They lived near the church.

Next I go to my old home five or six miles from here where my father lived when I was 13 years old. Father owned a big saw mill and he put me to work doing a mans work and I filled the job. As I prefered traveling by myself, I start out on foot, over the hills and valleys. I feel so sad to see the old hills and valleys and pinney woods where father had cut the mammouth pines and timber off and manufactured it into lumber, at his big saw mill. Oh, I felt so sad.

I stopped and sat down on an old pine stump. No doubt it was the same old stump that father had cut the logs from forty five years ago. There is no doubt in my mind I pulled the levers and throttle that forced the old circle saw through the old log that was cut off from this old stump I sit on. My heart grieves over the old surroundings and ruins of my fathers work so many years ago. As I go on looking and wondering and seeing so many things, my memory would bring back my boyhood days and my mind would roam so far off till I would be completely lost in thought.

Now I come to the old mill site--nothing there but old rubbish and a large pile of sawdust. I sit down about the spot where I stood on my feet for 12 months serving as sawyer or carriage runner. As I sat there by myself, four or five miles from everybody, everything was so still and lonely it seemed I could hear that old circle saw humming and singing as it used to when I pulled the throttle wide open and it would go through the logs like it was greased. Oh, I feel so grieved as I sit there and think of different things that occurred at different times.

I well remember one morning when I was about 14 years old, I had been working, sawing for father about a year. One morning I heard a great explosion and said to myself-Fathers boilers have blown up! I jumped up and ran down to the mill as quick as I could. When I got there I could not see anything for the steam, Nobody else had gotten there yet. I ran in to hunt my engineer. I wandered around until I found him. He was blown up agains a lumber pile, scaled all over and a hole blew through his heart. A piece of the boiler blew through him.

Oh, as I sit here thinking of the things and incidents that occured at different times I looked out a little ways and I see the old boiler that blew up. I remember I ran and held this wonderful young man, my engineer who I loved so well and he loved me like a brother. This young man's name was Mason. Father thought he was a fine young man and a good engineer. Oh, how sad it makes me as I stand on the very spot where I picked up this young engineer in my arms and when it got where I could see, I discovered I was standing in a puddle of blood an inch deep. By this time some of the other hands had got there. As I think back over those days so many years ago, and as I stand here looking and viewing over these old desolated ruins that had been so many years ago.

So after the boiler explosion, father ordered another boiler and put it in and overhauled the whole outfit and got everything ready to start again in the mill. He said to me: Son, I want you at the engine as engineer. I am very glad to say that father had great confidence in me; he was not afraid to risk me anywhere. He said: I want to feel safe. You know I laid off two or three engineers because they were drinking. I don't know whether this young man Mason was drinking or not, but I want you at the engine. Can you fill the job? I said: Father, you know I can fill any job at your mill. I am not afraid to run your engine and you can feel safe with me at the engine. He said: Alright, we will go ahead.

I was 14 years old and I was fathers engineer for a year, until I was 15 years old and father sold his mill and we moved to Birmingham, Alabama where he took a job as foreman or General Supt. of the rail road shops. I will mention about the Birmingham rail road shops later.

As I sit here among these old sawmill ruins and junk, it makes me so sad. I look up a lonely hill not far away and see my old home, the home that I used to love so well. I go up to see the place, it looked like I could hardly leave that old mill place, could not get my mind off the things that had occured at that old mill spot. I strolled until I came to the spring branch, beautiful little stream. I stopped and got a drink of water. I lay down on the bank and drank where I did so many times when I was a boy. As I stood there and looked back at that old mill and then looked at the old home, I cried.

As I go on to the old place where father died, the old place had gone to rack. The house was about rotted down, no one living there. I went up to the gate, feeling so lonely. I go in and go through about seven different rooms and come to the room father died in. I well remember one day when I was 19 years old after we moved back from Birmingham to this home. I was working about 25 miles from home for the J.M. Duddley saw mill Co. as sawyer. I got a messsage that my father was very sick, to come at once and I rushed home. It was in this room that I sat by fathers bedside and nursed and watched over him until he passed away. As I stand here in this old room and think of so many things that have passed so many years ago. I go on looking around at this desolate place and around in the rear of the place I see the old well that my brother J.B. and I dug when we were boys. It was fifty feet deep. I well remember there was a lot of solid rock to go through so father got me some dynamite and showed me how to handle it, so I blew everything out and we went on down to water. As I stand here and look down in this old well I think of the thundering jar of the explosion of that old dynamite. Right now, I couldn't hear anything, but the rippling sound of the waters of the Yellow Leaf Creek pouring over the rocks on the falls in the distance not far off. It sure was a mournful sound, so I leave this old place, the old forsaken home and mill site so sad.

As I go on up the old road I used to travel so much I looked back at the old deserted places that I love so well. Oh, how sad it made me feel. I make my way back to my brother John's about five miles and I get in just at night. They were glad to see me as I had been gone about two weeks. We sat up very late and I was telling my story about where I had been and what I had seen.