A Helping Hand from Green Sulphur Springs

“The record in Lewisburg shows the West line of Skiles tract 475 Poles in place of 175.”

Pull up a chair, neighbors, and let’s take a little trip back to the chilly autumn of 1886. Imagine the crisp mountain air in Green Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, as Samuel Gwinn sat down to pen a quick note to his brother. This isn’t just an old scrap of paper; it’s a direct line to a time when land and family were the very heart of life. The letter is a real treasure to see, written on a single sheet of lined paper in that beautiful, flowing cursive that feels like a lost art today. It has held up remarkably well over the years, with the dark ink still telling its story as clearly as the day it was written.

Samuel was clearly a man who looked after his own. In this short message, he tells his brother that he’s already secured the records for the Finny and Kincaid tracts all the way from Richmond. But he’s worried about a mistake he found in the Lewisburg records regarding the Skiles tract. He noticed a measurement was way off—recorded as 475 poles instead of the 175 it should have been! In an age where every inch of land mattered for a family’s future, Samuel was making sure his brother wouldn’t get cheated by a clerical error, even noting that the corrected records would cost a modest $1.50.

What really makes this letter special is the quiet, human moment at the end. Samuel mentions he isn’t able to travel, so he asks his brother to come see him in a few days instead. It’s a gentle reminder that for all the business of land tracts and legal records, the strongest foundations were the bonds between kin. Looking at this letter today reminds us of the careful stewardship and deep family loyalty that built our communities. It challenges us to slow down and take that same kind of care with the people and the legacies we hold dear in our own lives.

Original Transcription