David DeLauter

David DeLauter lived his entire life on Highland in the Upper Middletown Valley of MD. Being born just a few years after the War of 1812 and living through the War between the States, his was not an easy life.

I have been told that Emmaline in her maturity was a large woman. There is a story that during the War soldiers, blue or grey, came to the DeLauter farm asking for horses. Emmaline stood in front of the barn door and said, "You'll have to shoot me first." The soldiers marched on.

How Emmaline's heart grieved, when a total of four sons left home for the West. It was said her cries could be heard as far as the valley. She must have been gratified when late in her life she made a trip to Indiana to see her remaining children. Aaron, my grandfather, was deceased.

My earliest recollections of Maryland relatives were in connection with the trips for the Annual Conference of the Church of the Brethren. I barely remember arriving one night at Aunt Charlotte Biser's. Her kerosene lamp was kind to my tired, sleepy eyes.

Many happy hours were spent at Uncle Charlie's home. His family of boys and girls was an attraction to both my brother and me. We played for hours in the creek, in the fruit trees, running up and down the mountain. Tromping over the same hills as my great great grandparents, held only fun and games for me. I did not appreciate the fact that those hills were originally a land patent given an immigrant. The food produced to fill all our hungry appetites was pure southern hospitality culminating in pie for breakfast!

(Item about Emmaline; poem by youngest son Charles):
Feb 3rd, at her home, near Ellerton from the effects of grip, Mrs. Emmaline DeLauter, widow of David DeLauter, aged 69 yrs 11 months and 22 days. Interment Feb 5th at Grossnickle Meeting House.

I've no mother now -- I'm weeping,
She has left me here alone;
She beneath the sod is sleeping --
Now there is no joy at home.

Tears of sorrow long have started,
Her bright smiles no more I'll see,
And the loved ones too have parted --
Where, Oh where is joy for me.

Dearest mother, I am sighing
On thy tomb I drop a tear
For the home for me is parted
Now I feel so lonely here.

-Charles DeLauter