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Baby Griffing yields his shirt

In pioneer times, around this school (Rice), the houses were few and far between, and where this very school yard is, the Indians built their tepees. Across the highway, deeper into the woods than the present Griffing home, rose the humble cabin of Reverend James Sayre Griffing, Pioneer Methodist minister. He carried on his preaching as a circuit rider, taking the gospel where no church was yet established, or where no regular minister held a service. The pioneers heard him gladly, looking forward each time to the next meeting. At first, he made the rounds and back on saddle and horse, carrying his luggage and Bible in his saddle bags. Later, he drove a high two-wheeled cart, to be gone as long as six weeks at a time. Tecumseh, Topeka, Auburn, Lawrence, Junction City, Concordia -- all were on his itinery at one time or another.

During his absence, his faithful wife carried on, watching over her little family and tending the chores the homestead demanded. On one such lonely day, Mrs. Griffing had just finished hanging out the week's wash, which now flapped drying on the line. All at once, strange Indians appeared. It being peace time, she was not too much concerned at their unexpected arrival. Besides, it was well known that strange Indians were wont to stop at the famous spring about a mile west, where today Highway Forty crosses Deer Creek.

"Want white papoose clothes," grunted the Indians, pointing to the line. Without much ado, the thieves unpinned the baby things and took them away. Then Baby [John] Griffing, like any other papoose, was wrapped in a blanket, or whatever have you, until his daddy circuit rider could procure more baby garments.

And so, in earliest infancy, the pioneer baby yielded to his red brother not only his shirt, but likewise his pants, etc. etc. to set a new style in papoose infant wear.

Not too long ago, the primary children of the community ascertained the facts from the circuit rider's grandson, Lewelling Griffing, who farms the old homestead, two and a half miles east of Topeka on Highway Forty. Of course the children told the tale orally more than once [and] also made it into a blackboard reading lesson, which they knew by heart. In their very best printing and handwriting, they copied their story as a permanent record into their little booklet called, Social Studies -- True Stories of the Pioneers.