“My father (William T. Walker) had not revisited his old homestead in Hawkins, and in 1912, I decided to present him a Christmas present of a visit with his brother, Preston Clay, who was still living in the old home in Otes. The train we were to take (from Chattanooga, where both lived), operated between new Orleans and Washington D.C. and was running  late, as most trains do at Christmas time. At Bull’s Gap we boarded the small passenger train that then ran as far as Big Stone Gap, Va. Before the train left, my father said, ‘Here is where I saw the first locomotive train. In 1856 when the East Tn., Va.& Ga. Railroad was built, a crowd of us young folks waslked 6 miles to see it. I can yet feel the thrill when I saw then engine puffing through here, pulling a few cars. That wasn’t long ago – only 56 years.’

“When our train arrived at Otes, it was pitch dark. We succeeded in borrowing a lantern from one of the 3 residents of the place. Without it, we could not see a foot of the country road. My father had not traveled this road since he was a young man, but even so, he recognized several large trees that we passed, & on reaching his childhood farm, he said, ‘Bring the lantern; there’s a path somewhere here that makes a short-cut across the field to the old homestead!’  We found it, & halfway across the meadow, he asked to search for a familiar old tree. When we located it, he embraced it as if it were a long lost brother!

“In a few minutes we were at his old home, where his Civil War veteran brother, Preston Clay Walker, had gone to bed. A knock on the door & Uncle Preston and Aunt Ellen were soon up, the wood fire kindled & in a half hour, an old fashioned supper was on the table, the kind that has become as extinct as the dodo.

“Never before had I become so thrilled listening to stories of exciting events that had taken place in this old house. On the mantel was ticking away a Seth Thomas clock with a hundred years of history. A hole was in the front glass. ‘Do you remember the soldier in the Civil War who accidentally let his gun go off & it shot that hole in the clock’s door?’ my father asked.

“Father then asked Uncle Preston to move his rocker over, & reaching down, he took hold of a loose plank and lifted it up. ‘That saved my life more than once,’ he said.’During the war, this country was ravaged by bands of guerillas from the Confederates in southeast Tn. & N. Ga. who after ransacking all homes, barns and smokehouses, & carrying off provisions, livestock & grain, brutally killed every young man, married & single, whom they knew as Northern Sympathizers. They came here often & searched this house. On one occasion they were on the front porch before Mother spied them. She quickly lifted this plank, & I slid down, & in another moment, Mother’s rocker was over it, & she was calmly knitting. After searching the house, they left, & in a short time, we heard a gun fire at our nearest neighbors. We knew they had killed Jim Stewart. After they passed going back, I took the horse hitched to a sled, went over & put the body of Stewart on the sled & hauled it to the little cemetery back of our farm. I met the gang on the way, but they did not molest me, perhaps because I had the body of the man they had just murdered.”

William T. Walker became a judge in Hamilton County for 19 successive years, & was known for his integrity, honesty & fairness to all.

This file is from the papers of writer Robert Sparks Walker, whose father William emigrated from Hawkins to
Hamilton Co. on New Year’s Day, 1871.

Name of submitter was not included.