The Sunday telegram. [volume] (Clarksburg, W. Va.) 1914-1927, 1916-02-20
FIRE IS KEPT
BURNING FOR
MANY YEARS
Started in Kettle, It is Kept
Alive for Over Three-Quar-
tiers Of a Century.

A fire has just gone out In a Mis-
souri, cabin for the first time in the
better part Of u century, sevcnty-nine
years to be exact. The fire came
originally from Kentucky and the his
tory Of how the embers we're kept
glowing during the long journey from
the blue grass beyond the Mississippi
forms most interesting tale.
Eighty years ago, in a Kentucky
valley, r. D. Duckworth, then strap
ping and ambitious young man, de-
clded to migrate. ~ hate to leave old
kentucky" he said, "but l must go
There Is one thing, however, that
will take with me-" he remarked to a
group Of neighbors who had gathered
about the war hearth in his fathers
home to bid him goodbye.
whats that?" some ono asked
curiously.
"And that's this fire." he replied.
Next morning Duckworth and his
wife. taking wagons, guns, kettles and
axes, and children, started for the
lands beyond the great river Swing
ing under the bed Of the wagon was
an iron kettle, carrying the Goals from
the parent hearth. This fire Duck
worth fed at intervals with great care.
Aside from sentiment 1t was great
convenience, ready at noon or night
or at any stop to break the gloom and
cook the food. The fire was care
fully watched and never allowed to
80 out.
Built Home In Wilderness
The family often was followed by
Indians but never molested. Having
arrived in Missouri, after a long and
weary march behind the sow-plod-
ding OK team, they settled in Spring
Hill township, Livingston county.
There they tied the oxen, unloadcd the
children, and, leaving the household
goods In the wagon for that would
he their only home for some time to
come, Duckworth took his ak and be-
gan to clear place in the wilderness
But before the family did SO they
did something else. They took down
the old kettle from the back Of the
wagon, put 1t away against the time
when they should want to swing ii
from the crane on the hearth, and took
from it the big fire that was to be
kept until they were under roof and
in front of real fireplace.
Months later rude cabin was
hewed out OF the timber of the farm.
They plastered the cracks with mortar
and built rude stone fireplace. The
few homely household articles were
placed inside. And then they took the
fire which had come all the way from
Kentucky in the old kettle and had
since burned in log-heaps, to the new
laid wood on the hearth.
FIRE Outlived Pioneer
Time went on. The wilderness was
cleared, the roads improved and the
modern inventions, stoves, introduced
into the neighborhood. But the Duck
worth fire never failed. 1t was never
allowed to go out. The family grew
up and scattered The father passed
to his reward. Recently the aged
mother, whose years had numbered
ninety-three, went to join him. None
remained but q son, Nett Duckworth.
One thing lived on with him. 1t
was the fire. And as the old man
prepared his simple meals, the corn
bread he had made and eaten from
a boy. the salt meat followed by a
pipe, the fire seemed so human that
It kept him company. There was no
danger Of its going out. He saw to
that. But at last the cabin grew too
old, too uncomfortable, and Nett built
new pine house without fireplace
only a stove. The other day he
moved in. And for the first time in
nearly eighty years the fire on the
cabin hearth turned to gray, dead
ashes. Nett said he preferred to let
the old fire die with the old home.
Kinder sacriligious to move it into a
stove," he remarked.