Mary Catherine Brisbane Hickox 1832 - 1913 wrote a memoir of her childhood, as she explained it "thinking that after I am gone my children may want to know some thing about their relations when there is no one to tell them".   She had two children, but only one grand child and this grand daughter, Zillah Keese Hickox 1892 - 1975, would herself die unmarried.   Mary Catherine's memoir lives on, however, and includes many delightful reminiscences of her kinsfolk including the one below.   Thanks are due to Zillah Keese Hickox who ensured the preservation of the text and to Tom Tucker who brought it to the compiler's attention.

I remember my grandfather Lowndes’s  [James Lowndes  1769 – 1838] appearance when I knew him, but only few incidents of his life.   He was very tall and very thin, with a narrow face and body.   His eyes were dark, I think.   His nose unnaturally long; he had a mild and pleasant expression, but no teeth.   This gave the people of those days an aged look, which having false teeth we now avoid.   My grandmother [Catherine Osborne  1775 – 1853, presumably] many years after, had the first set I ever saw.   She used to say that my grand father and his brother William [not otherwise known to this compiler] were the ugliest men she knew, except my grandfather Brisbane [John Stanyarne Brisbane 1773 – 1848].

 Mr Lowndes [James Lowndes  1769 – 1838] had grey hair about two inches long as straight as a string and [which] looked, when brushed, very much like white silk threads, but he had a way of running his fingers through and ruffling it up, which gave him always a dishevelled look, quite unbecoming.   He was a lawyer and a very intelligent man but I have no idea whether he ever practiced his profession or lived by inherited property or on the proceeds of his rice plantation, which was on the Combshee River, where they spent the winters.    After my grand father’s death [in 1838] this place was sold and although I remember having been there, I have no distinct idea of any part of the house, but the front steps.   They were high and under them I kept quite a collection of toys and used it as a play house.   Grandpa  [James Lowndes  1769 – 1838] was very infirm when I remember him and had two men servants always in attendance, Tony and Peter.   He was confined to his room most of the time, but occasionally would come out and sit with the family in the drawing room, which was always on the second floor and near his bedroom.   When he was ready to retire, his nurses were called, and one on either side led him to his room and one or both remained with him all night.   His appetite was very delicate and I remember pitying him because he had to eat soft boiled rice instead of the grainy kind usually eaten in the South.   I can remember only one thing he ever said to me.   He called me to him one day and asked me if I could spell.   I said “why of course: I can read”.   “That doesn’t follow,” he said, “ a great many people can read who cannot spell”.   This I remember pondering over at the time but I have since found to be quite true.

 He  [James Lowndes  1769 – 1838] lived to be 78 [other sources make it 68, but taking his birth year as 1769 rather than 1759 could result from a transcription error at some point] and though I was only six at the time, I can distinctly recall the time of his death in 1838.   The stillness in the house, the servants and children awed and weeping, and visitors coming and going, all made a deep impression on my mind.   My grandmother Lowndes [Catherine Osborne , Mrs James Lowndes 1775 – 1853] always seemed to lose her strength and energy in times of trouble and generally took to her bed when there was sickness in the house.   I can see her now as she lay there, looking worried and anxious, as one after another came in to report her husband’s condition.   Nevertheless, she directed everything and there were always servants enough to do her bidding.   Then came the funeral.   Ladies of the immediate family in the south seldom attended, and when they did, they wore black silk snoods which completely …[concealed their faces?].