Dr. John R. Drish owned a large farm on both sides of the Greensboro road reaching from the boundaries of the old corporation southward to where the depot of the Ala. Great Southern Rail Road now stands. His residence is now the Jemison schoolhouse. It was planned and its building was superintended by a Negro slave of Dr. Drish. From its front door northward to the corporation line (ed. note: present day 15th Street) extended a broad avenue of elm trees which still stand. At the corporation line was the entrance gate; on the west side of which was built a porters' lodge, occupied by a family of Negroes that were the property of Dr. Drish. Someone was supposed to be always in attendance to open and shut this gate as needed. The style was that of an Englishman's country estate, and this large plantation was well cultivated at all times. West of this residence of Dr. Drish, extending from the back yard in rear of the residence nearly to the Greensboro road on the west, was a long row of brick rooms where the Negroes lived who cultivated this farm.
In the large field on the west side of the road that reached from the corporation line down to about where the oil mill now stands, and perhaps 200 yards west of Greensboro road, was the gin house and long-armed wooden screw press to gin and press all the cotton raised on the place and that of many neighbors contiguous with smaller farms. Dr. Drish owned also a large plantation in Mississippi, where overseers were employed to manage his business. I do not remember that he had any children except one son and one daughter who married a Mr. King, who had two sons, John Rigor Drish King, and Edward D. King. The elder, John, was about one year older than I, and Edward about the same age. Their mother had lost her mind, and was kept as secluded as possible in her father's residence. I was intimate as a schoolfellow of the boys and often visited them at their home with their grandparents, but I do not remember to have ever seen their mother. I suppose that their father had been divorced. Alabama at that date had no hospital for the insane. Ed. King was my bunk mate in Lumsden’s Battery the last two years of the Confederate war, and I never once asked any question whatever about his family affairs.