ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN Years She Has Lived and Retains Her Faculties-Interviewed by Local Newspaper Man- Has Her Picture Taken For the First Time. Glenville, W.Va., Pathfinder.

About nine miles, by air line, south of this place, in a little cove or glen where a spring forms the source of one of those long winding runs so common among the hills, is situated the humble home of Henry Conrad, where dwells the oldest woman in America.

The name of Eunice Conrad, together with statements as to her age, have at different periods with the past few years appeared in the papers throughout the state, by some few people the statements were accepted as true, by a majority they were set down as newspaper "fakes." Therefore, it was with quite a degree of interest that an artist friend and myself, sent out by the pathfinder, rode slowly down the long path which led to the door of the unpretentious little cabin, the home of "Aunt Eunice." The deep bay of a hound and shrill little yelp of a terrier greeted our approach, and then a swarm of tow-headed youngsters lined up at one end of the house and in open eyed wonder watched us as we dismounted. but it was not the hounds, the youngsters, or yet the gray haired old man who came to meet us that first commanded our attention. On the low roofed porch, in a little spot of sunshine, sat a figure so small and withered and so silent, whose every attitude spoke so plainly of a great, great age, that it did not require "Uncle Henry's" answer to our question of "Is this your mother?" to tell us that before us sat the woman of nearly six score years.

From some cause there was quite a little assembly at the house, but Henry, the old lady's son, familiarly known in that section as "Uncle Bobby," soon made room for us and we stated our mission. Your reported said:

Mr. Conrad, on account of your mother's great age her name has appeared in many papers during the past few years, but quite a number of people are loth to accept as facts the statements as to her age. We have come to learn the truth as to the number of years she has seen, and we wish the history of her life, also a photograph of her so that our paper can make a true statement in regard to the matter.

"Well, gentlemen," said he, "In course I'll give you all the information I can, and if Granny dont't care you can take her pictur."

One of the girls standing by expressed a doubt as to "Granny" being willing to sit for a picture, but another bright looking young woman assured us that she could prevail upon her to do anything; and shifting a youngster, off her lap, she went to where the young lady was sitting.

Meanwhile Granny was gazing at the distant hilltops, seemingly unconscious of the fact that she was the subject of an animated conversation. The reported had learned two things, namely: that Granny was very deaf, and that she has a mind of her own and usually did as she pleased. We were not certain but that she would object to the picture taking process, but the confidence of the young woman in her powers to persuade Granny to have her "pictur took," reasured us and we awaited the result.

"Oh, Granny!" said the young woman, pitching her voice very high, "these gentlemen have come to take your picture and you must look nice; won't you?"

"What do they want with my picture?" said the old lady, in a low smooth, even voice,

"Why, they want to put it in the paper to show the people that you are the oldest women in the world."

"Well, if that's it I don't care."

That settled it, and we were sure of Granny's picture. Quite a bevy of her grandchildren and great grandchildren and some of the neighbors gathered around her and there was quite a discussion as to wether she should be dressed in her new dress or photographed as she was. The reported objected to any change, but his suggestion was overruled and in a short time they had Granny in the house and out again, dressed in the new black dress and for the first time no doubt, in the history of her life the image of her good old face was impressed upon the plate of a camera.

And now for our pen picture of this lady who enjoys the distinction of being so wonderfully old. Whe is a little woman, being only about four feet high, and of course, beneath the weight of years, her form is bent so that she looks very small. But, withal, her face is round and full, and though furrowed and wrinkled by age, yet the wrinkles are deep enough to make the face as thin as one would expect. Above her face and out from beneath the grandma's cap, her hair, as white as snow, strays forth and forms a fitting contrast to the somebre hue of the cap. Her hands are thin and seem as if gloved with wrinkled parchment, and by her side there constantly rests the good stout cane, by the aid of which she often walks about the house and even so far as three or four hundred yards from the door. As she looked when she faced the camera, she in deed formed a quaint picture, yet one's mind could scarcely grasp the fact that she had seem the sunshine of 119 summers. But it is true, and as one looked at her and caught that steady gaze, that far away look of her eyes, one could not help thinking that if the artist could only transfer to his plates all the pictures her eyes have seen, he would indeed have an album to be treasured.

The years have done much toward erasing from Mrs. Conrad's memory the recollection of events, except those of her earlier years. it took some time to get her to understand our questions, but then she did so her answers were always sensible.

The words she often used, "I don remember, it has been so long ago, expresses volumes.

The history of her life, from the time she was born, five score and nineteen years ago, until the present time, were it fully known, would read like a great romance. The following is a sketch of her life as gleaned from her narrative.

Mrs. Conrad was born on the 4th day of August, 1775, in what is now Pendleton County, W.Va. Her maiden name was Eunice Mace, her father being a farmer by the name of John Mace, and her mother(as she expressed it) "a Scotch lassie by the name of Mollie." Her father removed to Bulltown, in Braxton County, when Eunice was a little girl, but she remembers distinctly how the Indians had to be driven away from the town before the white settlers could make their clearings and erect their cabins. The settlers, John Mace among them, took pocession of the town and the cleared fields, on the day after the Indians were driven away, Eunice's mother used for a milk house a large Sycamore stump in which the Indians had stored their deer and bear meat, and which also showed signs of having times been occupied as sleeping quarters. Her father lived in Bulltown for four years then removed to what is now Randolph County. There Miss Eunice met, loved and married Jacob Conrad, who at the time was much younger than she. The newly married couple turned their faces to the wilderness to find them a home, and soon she was once again living at historic Bulltown. Her husband came through the War of 1812 unscathed, and as his widow she is today receiving a pension from the government, for the life and permanency of which her husband so bravely fought.

After living at Bulltown some time and where several children were born to them, they moved to Dusk Camp, in Gilmer County, where they dwelt happy and contented for many years. During these years some children were born, some died and some were married. But the greatest trial came to Aunt Eunice in 1872,when her husband passed away and left her to stand alone amid a new generation. Since the death of her husband she has lived with her youngest son, Henry, and they have moved quite often to different places in the county. During this time she has seen all of her children die, one by one, until now, out of a family of fourteen, there is but one remaining, and that is the youngest of the family, the son with whom she lives. This son is now old and gray haired, and to see him one would not think it possible for him to have a parent living. He is kind and good to his aged mother, and with great pride exhibited to us an old fashioned pair of socks which she knitted for him in her 106th year. These, he said he had never worn, and would not until he is carried to his last resting place. Aunt Eunice is now and always has been in excellant health and her eyesight is good.

As we rode away the old lady was still sitting in the sunshine that came sifting through the roof of the old porch, and her eyes were fixed upon the hills. A slender cord to be broken, a little thread to be snapped, and Aunt Eunice Conrad will drift cross the silent river to the home where her loved ones are waiting.

Don Cyr

Her death is recorded in Gilmer County Court House as March 2, 1895.