In the fall of 1859, we again moved to Buffalo, this time to get the benefit of better school facilities. Schools were very poor in quality and of short duration in our neighborhood in Webster County and Bud and Tom were big boys by that time and were growing up with but little opportunity to obtain an education and as there was a good school at Buffalo, Father bought a home there and we began to make preparations to move to it. Father had established a fine business in Webster County and financially was doing well. The farm was in fine condition, a lot of unimproved land had been put in cultivation, the apple orchard, set out after Father bought the farm, would soon be large enough to bear fruit, and as we liked the neighbors, we had become attached to our farm home. But Father and Mother valued an education for their children above pecuniary advantages and they were anxious for us to have the benefit of a good school.

Before moving from Webster County to Buffalo, Father had leased the farm to some man whose name I do not remember now and he left all of his stock such as milk cows and hogs, and two horses on the farm and also all of the farm implements, making some arrangements with the renter I suppose, to use and care for them. We took the wagon and team of horses and a few garden tools with us. Finally all of our arrangements for moving were completed. The covered wagon was loaded, Father and one of my brothers having already taken two loads of our household goods to Buffalo and we started on our journey to our new home. I took along with me in the wagon two much prized animals belonging to me, my fine large cat, Robin Roboach, (I usually called him Robin) and my pet hen, Peter. I did not know that Peter would grow up to be a hen when I named my little domineck chicken and so its name continued to be Peter. Peter was in a box with the cover supposed to be securely nailed on and I carried Robin in my arms. We arrived at Buffalo late in the evening without a mishap. I dismounted from the wagon with Rabin still in my arms but when the box containing Peter was unloaded the lid of the box came loose and fell off and out jumped my pet hen. Now I was in trouble for I thought that Peter would run off but contrary to my expectation the hen only ran a short distance and then stopped and hearing my voice calling her name permitted me to pick her up. I was certainly gratified and carrying both Robin and Peter I briskly walked into the yard of our home and seeing a small building back of the dwelling house, which I learned was the hen house, put Peter in her new quarters and carried Robin into the house. One thing that had grieved me very much when we were ready to begin our moving trip was Father’s very positive admonition that I could not take my dog Captain with me to Buffalo that I would have no use for a dog in town. I had to abide by Father’s word in the matter and I sorrowfully parted from my dog which I never saw again.

The property which Father had bought in Buffalo was a half block situated on South Street two blocks south of the public square. The dwelling house was a frame story and a half building of five rooms painted white and was on the east side of the block in a nice grass covered yard. South of the dwelling house was the hen house in a lot fenced off for poultry; west of the yard was a large garden also fenced to keep out chickens and in the horse lot in the south-west corner of the block was a good frame barn. The house was well finished, ceiled and painted inside, and although it was not a large building, it was so much larger than our house on the farm where we had been living for several years, we thought it was quite commodious by comparison. We were soon comfortably domiciled in our new home and were well pleased with the change of abode. Father was soon doing a good practice, and Bud, Tom and I entered the school taught by Professor John R. Kelso, assisted by his sister Miss Ella. The school continued through the fall and winter of 1859 and winter and spring of 1860. My remembrance is that Miss Ella Kelso taught all of my classes during that term of school. I studied spelling, reading, geography, writing and arithmetic.

Early in the year 1860 there was another marriage in the family. My oldest brother Dolph, on February 2nd of that year was married to Miss Irene Z. Stanley, a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Horace Stanley of Buffalo. When I learned that this marriage was to occur soon, I was delighted. I knew Irene well, having seen her frequently when she had visited our school and at church almost every Sunday and I regarded her as an ideal young woman and I was highly elated when she became my sister. During that year and as long as we lived in Buffalo during the next year, Dolph and his wife made their home with our family.

I think it was the summer of 1860 that I had the chickenpox and I was a pretty sick boy. This is a disease which like measles and mumps is contagious and most all children by association with other children in school, church or other public functions are exposed to the disease. I had a severe headache and high fever for a day or more and I had to take some very nauseous medicine called Cumcreta, which I years afterward, learned was a mild preparation of mercury. It was very distasteful to me and I dreaded to take it. After two or three days a lot of clear blisters, some of them as large as one ‘s fingernail appeared on my face, arms and other parts of my body and if some of these blisters were broken they were very painful and made quite a sore and when the sore healed a scab would form, and when this was gone there was a reddish scar which finally became white. I think it was two or three weeks before I was well of this disagreeable malady; I suppose I had a very severe attack of it as I knew of others who had it and suffered no pain or inconvenience from its effects. It left a number of scars on my arms and body same of which are visible yet after a lapse of more than half a century.

When I was a boy, like all other boys then as far as I remember, I went barefooted during the spring, summer and fall often until cold weather. In our plays of ball, base and other strenuous plays such as running foot races and playing “leap frog” we often stumped our toes against rocks or other hard objects and made then bleed and when stumped several times the toe would become very sore and if neglected, what was called "proud flesh" would form and be exceedingly painful and would have to be treated with some kind of salve to relieve the pain and cure the sore. I was often afflicted too with stone bruises on my heels caused by jumping on stones which raised blood blisters and made painful sores. If a boy has a badly stumped toe on one foot and a stone bruise on the heel of that or the other foot, his locomotion is surely painful. I remember to have had such an experience when we lived in Buffalo.

An experience that greatly terrified me happened in the summer of 1860 near Buffalo. One afternoon of a very hot, dry summer, two men, Mr. William Davis and Mr. Thomas Montgomery, who had been in Buffalo on business that day, started in Mr. Davis's wagon, drawn by two spirited horses, for their homes in the north part of Dallas County. A storm was approaching from the northwest but as they were stock men and used to being out in stormy weather, they heeded not the admonition of friends and went on their fatal journey at a brisk speed and when they were about two miles from town they encountered a dreadful electrical storm during which a bolt of lightning struck them, killing Mr. Davis and shocking Mr. Montgomery into unconsciousness. News of the terrible calamity soon reached town, and later some men, who lived near where the unfortunate victims were stricken, brought them in a conveyance to Buffalo. When the vehicle reached the town, a large crowd had assembled on the public square. The conveyance stopped near the residence of Dr. Beverly Barrett on the west side of the square. I was among the people assembled and witnessed the ghastly sight of the stricken bodies in horror.

Mr. Davis's lifeless body was partly denuded and Mr. Montgomery appeared to be dead too, except for the twitching of the muscles of his face, an occasional moan and bloody froth oozing from his mouth which indicated that life was probably not extinct. The doctors examined him hastily and said he was still alive and possibly might survive. The spectators though nearly all believed that he was dying but contrary to their expectations, he did not die. He remained unconscious for several hours, then gradually regained consciousness and although he apparently lingered between life and death for a week or more, he finally recovered and lived many years though he was ever after partially paralyzed. I often saw him later in Buffalo.

The weather during the summer of 1860 was not only very hot but extremely dry. Many of the wells in Buffalo became dry and numerous families had to get water from a never failing spring near town. Two boys, Corwin and Crit Opdyche, hauled water every day in a barrel on their one-horse cart and sold it to people who were too far away from the spring to carry water from it and had no good way of hauling it to their homes. Fortunately for our family we had a good well which furnished plenty of water for our use and some of the neighbors got drinking water at our well.

A sight which was particularly attractive to me I frequently saw on the public square in Buffalo that summer. An old white headed toothless Negro had a big keg of cider and a box of ginger cakes which he sold to passers-by and his quaint sayings such as, "Deys mouty good sah and dey’ll almost melt in yo mouf" referring to the ginger cakes and "hits de mos hileratin sweetes cidah yo even tasted, sah" tickled us boys immensely. He was generally on the square on days when court was in session or when there would be political meetings or other public gatherings and his witty and quaint Negro lingo always attracted a crowd and he was generally successful in selling all of his cakes and cider.

During the time we resided in Buffalo just preceding the Civil War, social conditions were in a deplorable condition. There was a saloon (a grocery it was called then, I think, as there was a sign Grocery in large letters over the front door) in an old unpainted building on the south side of the square and anyone, man or boy, who had the price, could purchase intoxicating liquor. It was a common thing to see inebriated men, and sometimes boys, reeling and staggering about the streets and drunken rows and fist fights and sometimes altercations in which firearms were used were heard and seen. There seemed to be no restrictions on the sale or use of strong drink. Many of the drunken men would continue their carousals until late at night, ending frequently in a general knock-down and drag out melee in which some of them would get seriously injured and their yells of rage and maddened fury were horrible. Some of the drunken sots, whom I frequently saw, made a great impression on my boy mind and caused me to detest the use of intoxicants and I have always been a teetotaler, following the example of my father who was never intoxicated in his life.

I remember one old white haired, gray bearded man who lived in the country south of Buffalo, who would get drunk every time he came to town and that was nearly every day in the week. He would go to the saloon on arriving in town and would soon be intoxicated.. He was not quarrelsome, generally was in a good humor but of course sometimes became involved in brawls with other drunken men. Late in the evening, if he was not too drunk to navigate, he would start home. His route was on South Street past our house. If on foot he would stagger and reel from one side of the street to the other side and if on horseback, he would sway back and forth or from side to side until it appeared like he would surely fall off his horse. Everyone who saw him on those drunken trips feared he would get hurt or killed, but he escaped injury as far as I know. I was glad to learn, when we lived near him years later, that he had reformed and become a sober and highly respected citizen.

The second term of Prof. Kelso’s school which my brothers and I attended in Buffalo, began in the fall of 1860 and closed in May 1861. The building in which the school was taught was originally used as a store house, but the counters and shelving had been removed and it was equipped with good seats, desks and blackboards. I had never before attended school except in an old poorly furnished log house and I greatly appreciated the change to this (I thought) excellent schoolhouse. I was promoted that year and Professor Kelso was my teacher and I certainly regarded him as first class in every respect. Brothers Bud and Tom were making good progress in their studies at this term of school, which contrary to their expectations then, was the last school that either of them ever attended. At the close of the term we had an examination of all the pupils in their various studies, and then an entertainment. For several weeks previous to the close of the term, Professor Kelso had been training the pupils for the closing exercises. A number of the girls and boys of my age were to have recitations and declamations (which now I suppose would be called "readings" ). I had frequently rendered declamations on Friday afternoons during this term of school, and I had prepared a choice speech for this occasion. When my name on the program was called I declaimed Patrick Henry’s address before the Virginia Convention, a patriotic appeal to the Colonists before the Revolutionary War; the peroration ending with the words "Give me liberty or give me death." I thought I had acquitted myself pretty well as at the termination of my effort there was a good round of applause fully equal to that received by others of my class. The entertainment was attended by almost every one in town and was regarded highly by everyone in attendance and many thought that it was the best ever witnessed in Buffalo.