Sarah Caroline Keyes Bryant is believed to have been one-fourth Indian; her grandmother, Rachel Sarah Keyes, is believed to have been full-blooded Indian. I believe Sarah Caroline's Indian ancestry is evidenced by her photo.

The following was written "In Memory of Dear Mother," by a son of A.G. and Sarah Caroline, Anslem J. Bryant, shortly after Sarah Caroline passed away:

Born January 7, 1856, in Covington County, Mississippi, married to A.G. Bryant, September 9, 1874.

To them were born fifteen children, two of whom preceded her to the grave. One little son, who died about 30 years ago, whose remains were laid away in Harmony cemetery in Smith County, a short distance from the clear, sparkling Brook of St. Ela, the playful streamlet of my early childhood days. The other, a loving daughter of sixteen summers, who died four and a half years ago and was laid to rest in the Pine Grove cemetery to await the resurrection morn.

She was the grandmother of sixteen children(at the time this letter was written), two of whom have departed this life. She joined the Baptist church at Concord in 1884, then located in Simpson County. She departed this life, May 22, 1914. She is buried in Pine Grove cemetery in the presence of a large crowd, who met to pay their respects to my mother dear.

Just one short day before she was stricken down, I saw my mother and asked her to come to my home. She replied, "I have been wanting to go but could not get off but will soon as I can." But, alas, she never came and will nevermore. Hark! The happy angels came and bore her loving spirit out upon the gentle breeze of May to her home with God. Oh, the many tasks that we may leave unfinished and the many things we may leave undone when the Father calls, "Friend, come home."

The grim sceptre, death, knows no favorites nor is no respecter of persons. We all must pass through the dark valley of the shadow of death, but oh blessed thought, if we only take with us, Jesus, who became the first fruits of them who slept, to light the way and carry us safely through to pearly gates into the celestial city, just over in glory land.

My mother was always kind and true and bore her hardships and misfortunes with fortitude and always faithful at her post of duty.

It is with gladness and makes me happy that in most all things, with willingness, I obeyed my mother, and through the kind influence of her, I am what I am. With a lively hope and faith in God, I believe I will someday meet her, in the golden by and by, where there will be no more sorrow or crying. There, all tears will be wiped away. I could exclaim like the apostle Paul, if in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable, but there is hope in the world beyond. Yes, in that resurrection morning, when the prison bars are broken, we shall rise! It is enough to know that Jesus said so.

To all who may read this, let me strongly urge you to obey your parents in all things that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. This is the first commandment with promise. Let us do good while opportunities exist and give to friends and loved ones our fragrant flowers of kind deeds and love while they live. Let us not wait until the last sad moments come and place the flowers upon their bier or upon their graves. As I look at my father, according to the ways of nature, I cannot help but think that he, too, will soon pass to the home beyond, there, to meet my mother dear. With gladness, I can truthfully say his life has been made beautiful, and he is ever ready to be about his Master's business. As it is written, how beautiful are the feet of those who preach the gospel of peace and bring good tidings of great joy.

My mother passed away in full triumphant hopes of a better world, beyond the grave.

Mother has gone to that fair land,
To Jesus and His love;
On the golden banks to stand,
In that happy home above.

There is a better place for me,
She said, than this world of care;
I'm going home and Jesus see,
To that home so bright and fair.

She has gone home to die no more,
To dwell always in peace and love;
O'er on that bright eternal shore,
In that happy home above.

We'll miss you, Mother, oh so bad,
But the will of God must be done;
Someday He'll make our hearts so glad,
When this life's pilgrimage is run.

Sleep on, Mother, and take thy rest,
We'll meet beyond the tide;
In that home of all the blest,
And we'll all be satisfied.

Written by a son.