The story of his parents

My Great Grandmother's name was Rebecca Groves (possibly Bellgroves)...She had fallen in love with my Great Grandfather and they were going to marry despite his family's opposition but he was killed in a flood on the Susquehanna River. She was pregnant with my Grandfather John. It is said that his middle name {Enfreymont} was his paternal Father's name. Part of the story that is told is that this man was a Mennonite or Quaker and had some standing in the church. This would explain the fact of the opposition of the family to their plans.

She met Joseph Whilt when he was returning to his home after being in a Civil War prison. It was said that he had been injured when his horse threw him after a cannon went off too close. His injury was to his chest, and he had problems with pneumonia and perhaps tuberculosis The story is that he collapsed outside the house where she was living and she took him in and tended to his injuries. When he recovered they married and he took my Grandfather as his own child. It is also said that Joseph was half Native American. I was never aware of Grandfather's true paternity until I started researching this project. I always thought I had native blood even though I look more like a leprechaun. At the same time, my uncles and aunts all had dark hair and we commonly attributed uncle Joe's Romanesque nose to our native heritage. My Father always told me he was Pennsylvania Dutch. I think he was referring to Rebecca's ancestry because I do not believe he ever pursued his paternal Grandfather's family.

Joseph and Rebecca had five other children; Mary, Kate; Hilda, Joe, and Jim. But he died soon after the youngest child was born. My great Grandmother went through some tough times as a widow with six children. It is said that she received several offers of marriage if she would give up the children, but she refused.

One of the things that happened during this time is that an Indian man stopped by the house and indicated that he wanted something to eat. Rebecca offered him some pie but was mortified when he ate half of it as they did not have a lot to eat. After he left, my uncle Joe went outside and found that he had left a half of a deer he had killed on a stump. Other stories of kindness are detailed in Katherine Whilt-Gunstone's story which is an addendum to the diary. She is the daughter of my great uncle Joe. She is the last of her generation and a great source of stories for this project. She recently celebrated her 90th birthday and lives in Olympia Washington. I hope to be able to show her this new technology the next time I see her. I know of few people of my generation who are as together as Katherine.

Thanks for taking this detour. Now on to the diary.

Or if you want the preface of the story click here.

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