Taylor Journal Introduction  

Introduction:

It was the least of my intention, nor had I a distant thought, of ever undertaking a "reminescence" of my life, and "committing" it to paper; although, my "yongest" daughter had intimated a desire to know something of my history, and my son Robert had desired to know something of my "ancesters", yet, I had no thought of undertaking so unprofitable, uninteresting and such an entire failure! it looked better to bury my life in oblivion!!

Since I came to Portland, I find my work is finished! One day my thoughts reverted to my first family of children, and I knew that they had but very little knowledge of my life; and might at least, expect some "rememberance" from a father who had been in the land of gold so long! I concluded to write a synopsis of my life struggles, to let them see why I have made a failure, so complete!

After I finished this abridged acct of my life, and it being "considerd" a tolerable fair production by good judges, I came to the decision that I would undertake a more extensive reminiscence of my life for the benefit (or to show my ignorance) of my youngest children! Although I dedicate the following to my "yongest" daughter Gertrude, yet it is written for all my dear children, and as it is not intended for publication, and it would be too much for your old father to write out one for each, you if you approve of it, make it a circulating medium.

I have striven in the following pages to give a true and faithful reminiscence of my life from childhood up to the present; and as far back as anything I gathered from my Parents with regard to my great grandfather, long before the revolutionary war.

I know the readers of this manuscript will make due allowances for my imperfections, as before said it is only written for my dear children not for publication! Much may seem childish, but I'm sure my dear ones, wont look at it with a "criticks" Eye! I have had strong doubts whether I ought to have recorded some things in this work, but as I have set out to give a faithful and true history of my life, I have decided that my religious views is a part, of my life, that my history would not be complete without, but I have no desire, indeed, it would be almost heart rending, to think, that I had influenced any one of my dear ones, in the least!

No! my dear children!

It is a happy thought and will make a dying bed easy, to believe that you have led a Christian life, and fully in the faith, yes! faith, hope and charity! I know I'm far from being good, but I put my trust in God, the Creator, and I leave my fate in his hands! His will be done!!

A rich gentleman by the name of Stone living in the State of Virginia, said to be one of the wealthiest planters in the State. I don’t know how many children he had, but must have had more than one, a daughter.

She visited some relatives or friends in North Carolina, she became acquainted with my grandfather Taylor (if I had my fathers old Bible which is nearly as old as I am, I could give the surname and all the names of my grand parents, father , mother brothers and sisters and my own children deaths etc but my daughter has it at this time I wish I had it!)

My grandfather Taylor was poor. My Grandmother did not look “uppon” riches, as the highest blessing, and “marrid”; I guess for love and worth and went to work for riches; her parents and relations discarded her! (how often we have seen or read of such cruel acts of parents!) She must have been a woman out of a thousand having been “reard” and raised in the lap of “wilth” (I guess they did not mind work in those days as we do now). I have often heard my father tell of my grand parents struggle; and to show that she must have been healthy, resolute and brave, a help indeed to a poor man. One “occurrance” will be enough!

Grandmother spread a blanket on the grass, under the shade of a tree, and laid her first born on it; his name was Wm; he must have been a plump, healthy little darling; and as good as he was healthy; for mothers will stop work, and run to their young, if she hears them cry. I can imagine my darling little uncle, kicking up his heels, cooing and crowing, looking up at the green leaves and chirping birds “abov” him, throwing up his hands wishing if the truth was known, that he had one of the little beauties in his hands. Babes begin to learn from the time they draw their first nourishment from their mothers breast, and they learn very fast.

Well while he lay under the cool shade “studding” the wonderful works of nature; and sometimes “amuzing” himself with his little feet; his father tugging with his hoe, cutting up the rank grass and weeds sweating in the hot sun, his mother following his father close at his heels (no doubt pleasantly chatting probably of their little darling so good; no doubt they loved him dearly) “toping” the Tobacco, this is the first operation with the hand in a tobacco field; it is light work, a woman can perform the operation easily; but only think the little hands, taper fingers, “lilly” white, bleaching in the hot sun.

Toping is not all the light work in raising tobacco, the next thing is suckering and worming. The worming is the most trying part; only think she must take hold of a great monster worm as big as your finger the worms have horns Oh! they do look frightful! ( I have seen them and handled them too) these worms must be “destroyed”, or they will “destroy” the tobacco; they accumulate very rapidly; there may be some kind of machinery at this day invented to take “hole” of these frightful worms ( they at least love the tobacco, they grow very fast) and kill them. Yes! I know if I was raising tobacco I could make an instrument that “wold” pinch them. Yes Id pinch the nasty things! but not with my fingers! but fingers was made before forks, and Im a way “antire” [?] of the war for independence; we have many inventions and improvements since; but at the time I’m speaking of, they used their fingers in killing worms by taking them between the finger and thumb dash them on the ground the gormons will when grown burst,they have “eat” so much; but the “young” ones must be peeled into. Now my delicate fair ones to today could you take hold of this horned monster worm with your fingers Oh! You would shudder your flesh would crawl even to look at them!!

My grand mother was a brave woman, she was raising her sturdy and brave sons that faced the british Lion. Yes she did help grandfather raise tobacco; father is my authority, and little George W wasnt more truthful if he was as much, for father had been lernt to tell the “trooth”.

After many a hard struggle, my grand parents became rich themselves. Tobacco in those days was the only “curancy” and high at that; it was a mine that “paned” rich. After they had gained a “compatencey”, her relations “offerd” her “assistance”, she thanked them, she had enough! refused their offer, and never did receive a dollar.

Who of our day would refuse gold? even if they had millions? Oh! they were brave honest men and women, in those days thought more of their honor, and love of liberty, than the sordid love of gold! Yes! wheres the man with health, strength and common sense, that could help to rise with such a woman to hold up his hands!

My grand parents as before stated became wealthy! but never I guess as wealthy as her parents the Stones. In those days according to feudal system, the oldest son inherited the Property. My little uncle Wm was the fortunate boy! (I was named after him, but G.W.. dont make a George Washington and President). Yes little Willy was the good boy that lay in the shade, and did not cry! while his mother “filterd” her delicate hands with the dirty work, helping his father to make him rich.!

CHAPTER 2

My Uncle Wm. was prosperous and became rich also. I have often heard father say that his brother would say to his hands, come boys and led to his work. Whether he labored hard I don't know (I don't think I would have done the hardest work) but my impression is, that he carried the foreman's row. He died in his manhood prime, and left his wealth to his wife, and five daughters; who, when my father went back after moving to Tennessee, were riding in their carriages. My Uncle had no son which my Aunt who lived a long time after Uncle's death regretted. Women at that day believed in the Bible, and felt honored to have a soldier boy, and the more the better.

My Grandmother had a large family. I don't remember much about them; they received their equal portion of personal property and scattered. Some went West, one I know settled in Kentucky, his name was Robert.
Son Robert was named for him. My Uncle or some of his brothers, might have been the father of the Rough and Ready old Zack for he was rough enough to be of my family, but I never claimed kinship for there are a great many Taylors.

And never sought to trace the genealogy; one of my sister's sons did believe old Zack was a fourth cousin or something near it He thought more of honorable ancestors than I did.

However, I was proud of old Zack when he immortalized himself in the defeat of the overwhelming Mexican army at Buena Vista (1846), where my oldest son Franklin fought and I believe did his duty, with credit under the command of General Zechariah Taylor.

The general's name is a Bible name and that was very fashionable in my family as you will see. But no matter. I have heard Germans and others say we are all of a brotherhood, even the Chinaman.

CHAPTER 3

I must now go back to North Carolina where my father was born; Father's given name was Daniel. What I am now about to record, the most of it, was received from my mother, her given name was Elizabeth.

Father never boasted of anything about himself. He felt his life had been a failure unless some of his posterity should grow up to honor. I distinctly remember to have heard him say as much. I can appreciate his remarks as applicable to myself. One thing, however, he was a better man and more useful to his generation than I dare claim for myself.

But as before said, mother told me more of Father's early days than he did. Possibly we might make some allowance for I guess she loved him, and passed some of his imperfections by!

As she had lernt it, he was called the old man from his boyhood. At any rate, he joined the church at twelve years old. I don't remember what denominational church, but I guess the church of England, for after he had received the best education within his reach at that time, he was just ready to go to England to finish his education, preparatory to entering the ministry.

But about this time the trouble between the colonies and the mother country commenced which blasted his aspirations; and turned him from a preacher to a soldier. His patriotism must have been strong, for I'm sure from what I distinctly remember, after I was old enough to remember, he had not a drop of cruel blood in his veins, and would not tread on a worm if he could help it.

His highest military career was Captain and he faithfully helped our fathers to obtain their independence. But as I said before, he never bragged of anything, and always considered that he had generally failed to come up to his whole duty to God and man. I don't know how old he was when he joined the Baptist Church; but from my earliest recollection, father and mother was consistent and honored members of the Baptist church until their death. Father was one of the deacons throughout my recollection.

CHAPTER 4

Father had built a cage and from what he had saved from teaching school and from what he had received of his portion of his father's estate, I guess he was very able to take good care of a bride. Father at that time, was about twenty-eight, and he came to the conclusion that it was not best to live alone. The Bible had taught him this, as well as his own desire; and it taught him further when you take a woman to your heart and arms, and she becomes your wife, you are to be one flesh. What language could express the binding chord that should exist between man and wife.

Father had no doubt considered the importance of a life union. I don't know whether father had been entangled in any love scrapes, but I am inclined to think there was one girl mother was a little jealous. I don't remember enough of mother's account of the matter to record what I heard her say, but there is one thing certain, father would never have acted a dishonorable part, it would be contrary to his whole life history.

He had his house ready and everything at that time that a house keeper then considered convenient and comfortable; but at that time he did not have china and silver sets but pewter plates and everything to match.

Now for his courtship. He always went to the pith of his subject in as few words as would convey his ideas. He was noted for this from my own knowledge, have often heard him speak in conference meetings and generally carried his point.

In this short speech I am about to record. I firmly believe the first and only one, unless he has been refused, which I hardly believe. Well, after he had duly decided, he went to see his partner for life. Her father was named Rouse, Welsh descent. I don't think they were rich but good livers, industrious, at least my mother was. She was at the loom, the treadles moving up and down with speed, the shuttle flying, the baton slamming (she was a fast weaver as I learnt. I never saw her weave. She always had someone to weave after I was big enough to remember).

Now comes the courtship. Father entered the loom house (I guess the treadle suddenly ceased their active movement). He walked up to the loom where she was seated, of course the common salutation of first meeting was passed between them, but this I take for granted; he came to the subject at once and said, "Miss Elizabeth, I have come to make a bargain with you". Mother said if a good one she would accept. Father said, " I offer myself and all I have." I don't know whether mother fell into his arms but she did not refuse. This is all the courtship as I heard it from my mother. When they married, ( February 6, 1777) or how she dressed, I don't know. As apt as not, in a neat homespun dress, all of their own making. No doubt father dressed in home make also. They did not have silks, satins, laces and broadcloth so soon after the war.

I could mention a great many of mother's recollections of the war. She was young but remembered how feather beds were ripped open, feathers scattered to the winds, smoke houses robbed of the last piece of meat, cattle, sheep, pigs and fowls taken and destroyed with impunity.

The Tories were their worst enemies, some of their neighbors were Tories. I remember one incident that occurred at her father's house. One of the Tory gang, I guess a neighbor, one of their acquaintances at least, came in and said the Rebels must hang up their fiddles, this was about the time that the British had overrun South Carolina, but enough of this, better historians have recorded the cruelties of the war!

CHAPTER 5

I don't know when father moved to Tennessee, but I think they had two children before they moved. Sister Nancy, the oldest, and brother Samuel, or how they moved or whether there was danger of Indians. I don't think they had much trouble or I would have heard something about it.

Father first settled in Sumner County, middle Tennessee, where all the balance of his ten children was born. I was the youngest by seven years, born we may say in their old age, (colts born of old sires never amount to much).

Joseph was the next youngest, had been petted. They thought he was their Joseph of many colored coat. I don't think he was a very bad boy, if he did get me into one scrape which I have good reason to remember. I have heard mother tell about his weaning. I don't remember how old he was, but a neighbor lady made mother a social visit, she saw the great big cub teasing mother for a tug at her breast, the lady remarked, "Haven't you weaned that boy yet?" He turned away and said, "I'm done with it". He weaned himself from that time.

I have heard my parents say they did not intend to spoil me, but I have no reason to complain. Mother never even slapped, that I remember. Father, to the best of my recollection, whipped me twice. My brother Joseph was certainly to blame for one, he was too big to whip, but took all the blame and begged for me like a man; but father was determined to give both a lesson which I judge did us both good. I was like the dog Tray in bad company and paid for it, but don't think I was better than boys in general, no doubt I deserved more punishment than I received. But as said before, I am now giving a true and faithful statement of my recollections from childhood up to the present. No! I make no pretentious to being a good boy but I do believe I had better teachers in my parents than many boys have.

CHAPTER 6

Father “moved” to Montgomery County when I was only a month old, and bought land six miles north of Clarksville the county seat, and six or eight miles from the dividing line between Tennessee and Kentucky,where my first recollections of myself, and things surrounding me commensed.

How “yong” children begin to notice and learn parents and nurses only know! I have seen it stated that children “learns” more the first five years of their life, than they”lern” afterwards, I have also seen it stated that childhood was the “happest”!in this I heartily agree, and I have also “herd” it for a saying that a child “trod” one its mothers toes, when “yong”, and on her heart when old! But thank God I haven’t “expernsd” much of this!

It looks like a “smal” thing to write about my childhood, but as it has been my “happest” days Why not? I have always been fond of little children, and can not help smiling at “thir” little “anticks”, if they do stomp “thir” little foot, or “cick” my shins when I don’t allow them to go their own way! Well if I am “pardond” for speaking of my childhood, I will begin at the first recollection when Mother dressed my in a long linen shirt (Mother could spin a very fine thread on her linen wheel and father raised flax) Mothers did not put breeches on, as soon as the little “toddler” of a year old could walk, they were too sensible and industrious to take time to button and unbutton, and often to clean! I wore shirts only, long after my first recollection “especally” spring and summer months, and felt like a bird turned loosea out of a cage when I could peel off my shoes and “briches”! but the longest thing I do remember, was a bright many “colourd” suit. My Aunt uncle Wm’s “widdow” sent me.

Father had gone back to; North Carolina on some business, I don’t remember his going or coming back, but the “colour” of the suit, fixed it in my “remembrance”; how Mother made the suit, or “wheather” I ever wore it is beyond my recollection. I have no doubt however but that it was made in height of fashion of that day, how it would look now, no doubt would make the ladies laugh! but I don’t know but what they would like to see how our old mothers “dresed” our two year olds! And might “lern” something also! But young folks think old folks fools etc.

I was in the habit of following father when “permited”, one day he was stripping the blades off the corn for winter feed for stock, ( at that time I don’t think much hay was cut) I was at his “heals” in the way no doubt (but kind fathers can stand a good “deel” of bother from their “yong” when they “no” better than to tread on “thir” toes) watching the “operataion”. I ran a head of father and began to pull a blade, here and “thare”, father praised me for being a smart boy! which caused me to exert myself, doing more mischief than good; father had to; pick up the blades I “droped”, but I was the first at the end of tahe row. Father praised me for having won the race! This is my first recollection of work, but I had plenty of work to do when older: but I do believe I remember this days work and how father praised me better than any other days work of my childhood.

The corn grew taller and larger, or seemed so to me, in Tennessee than any I have see since, except a cane brake crop, which if I don’t forget, I will describe here after! I could fill a “volum” in recording all I remember of my youth, since commencing this (what will you call it history? No matter) Biography, many things that I had forgotten, have crowded into my recollection! but I must abridge, and what I am now about to record, the old folks may pass “ovr” as something too insignificant but, the children might like to know, what kind of play things and “amusemints” the Boys and Girls eighty years back, how to make their childhood pleasant.

We had some of the same amusements that they have now. The girls had dolls of their own or mothers making, played house keeping with broken plates and dishes, romped with the boys in hide and go seek, and other amusements, they didn’t have toy stores for fathers and mothers to spend money, as they have now, but their mothers or older sisaters, could make a doll that pleased them just as well, and would not “brake” a head, arm or leg when they let it fall on the floor, and the table “setts” pleased them I truly believe just as well as if they had a five dollar set, the little ones of to day will soon “brake” their fine dishes, no matter pa will buy me a finer one “nex” Christmas an old Santa Clause will not forget me! But I know much better how the boys amused themselves, for I had no little sisters to play with!

We boys had some of the same amusements that the boys have now ,marbles, ball and bat, running races, jumping, run and jump half “harnnud” (harness? hammerd? I couldn’t get this one.) jump, bull pen, Pitching Quaits, do you know what pitching Quaits is? You have seen and probably done it yourselves stick a peg in the ground, go as far as you wish to pitch and plant another peg, each boy takes a couple of dollars, “pichers” from one peg to the other, the nearest dollar to the peg wins. Sometimes the pitching was done with “horsshoes”, but dollars was not so plenty when I was a boy! There is no doubt but there was “hors” shoes at that time, but we boys at the first school I went to, had a very good substitute, there was near the school house a little brook of clear running water nice flat stones of “evry” “sise”, we selected to suit our selves, which was equally as good as a dollar, if not as “aristocratick”. There is one game the boys played that I believe has gone out of fashion, “posibly” some of the boys of this day may have tried it, for what won’t a boy try? Well this was a dirty game, and had a dirty name, but we weren’t “schollars”, the present generation may have found out a more decent name, but we “caled” it Mumble peg. Boys did you “evr” try it? Or do you kow our ancient “difinition” for mumble peg? Well I think I can “describe” the performance from actual experience. Well take a knife (we did not all have knives at that time either) whittle out a nice tapering peg about two inches long or “possibly” a little longer, select some smoothe soft spot, stick it lightly “upwright””blindfold” a boy who takes the knife by the blade, and if the stick is struck and driven “levil” with the ground, the boy whose lot it falls to has a filthy task before him to pull it up with his teeth, there may be more in this game than I have “discribed” but pulling up is the funny part to the spectators! We also played a game, which is now, was then “caled” base ball, at any rate we played the same way that it is played now.

CHAPTER 7

Since I have mentioned my school house I might as well finish my recollections of my school days in it. This was my first and last school in Tennessee. I have always been under the impression that I went to school twelve months in this school house. I'm positive that we had no intermission from the beginning to the close, and form the descriptions I'm about to give of the building it would be impossible to live in such a house during the winter, for it is freezing cold in that part of Tennessee.

The house was built of round logs, the cracks not even daubed, no fireplace, a log cut out the whole length of the house (too cool for a winter schoolhouse). Well, to finish, the furniture there was a long broad plank standing, to write on, at the window, the benches was hewed smooth on the top, pegs stuck in for legs. The teacher, Mr. Wyat, I haven't forgot his name, had a chair and a small table. He sat at the left side of the door as you went in. Over his head was two pegs stuck in a log to hold and season switches, which was a great prompter to make us study, and we had to, or get it. We had no classes at our school, the school was not so large; every pupil had to stand on his own bottom.) I got it once for idleness or going to sleep, and I got another which I will presently describe.

We had a good teacher and I think, must have lernt his pupils faster and more in the same time than they do in this enlightened age. I started in my ABC's possibly could spell Baker and before the school closed I had progressed in arithmetic to where Tantribogus said he could see through it. This was all the schooling I received in Tennessee. Well, to finish up with this primitive school house I will mention only two more occurrences and bid goodbye to my school days until I was fifteen years old.

The first one was a military affair; we boys felt as big as any militia company, marched in double file and countermarched! Of course as you know, girls admired soldiers and was seated at the window admiring our great display of military "tackticks"' as we filed past the window, one boy picked up a chip and thought he would show his bravery and skill in taking good aim, for he hit one of the girls. The coward. If he had a particle of chivalry, he ought to have considered himself eternally disgraced. Bless their lovely hearts, I would not hurt one of them under no consideration; for I was desperately in love with some of them at that time. But one of the little angels said I did it, and so informed the teacher. He gave me the severest lecture and severest whaling I ever received. I did not mind the smart of the switch as much as the disgrace; but I was not the first person that innocently suffered, I think there ought to have been at least two witnesses, but I was no lawyer, and too badly scared to think! I did not throw the chip, I'm sure of that. I don't think I thought that girl an angel after that!

The second occurrence was a trade with a boy bigger than I was. All the money the boys had was obtained by selling rabbit and coon skins; the silver was frequently cut into four quarters, and if the people was no more honest than they are now, possibly cut some into five quarters. But I had raised a quarter and bought me a knife; boys you know, want a knife the first thing, and after cutting his fingers a good many times, become tired of such sharp toys. I guess I must have used it until I wanted something else. Children will play with a toy until it loses its charm, and after a time take it up with equally as much pleasure as at first. Well, the boy offered his pocket full of trinkets. I now remember one, a pair of old suspender buckles; I swapped the knife for, as I thought, enough to commence peddling. I went home admiring my treasure, but I soon had a , when I was informed, by good authority, that the whole of my goods was not worth a cent.

I had gathered up a good many goose quills. Mother had a large flock of geese. (We lay on feather beds at our house.) Goose quills were used for pens, (no steel pens then). Quills, at that time, was considered valuable.Some hadn't as many as I, everyone did not have such a flock of geese as mother. Well, to cut it short, with my pocket full of trash, and more than twenty-five cents of quills, I bought my knife, much pleased with my trade, and kept my knife, if it did cut my fingers, until I lost it. Cutting puts me in mind of one more accident while I was going to school; I cut myself with an ax, a terrible gash. The scar is plainly on me yet. I must have been laid up a long time, which shortened my schooling considerably. About this time Father was taken with the gravel.

CHAPTER 8

We will now return to the most pleasant days of my life!

Father had built his castle, not of stone and brick! but a two story house of nicely hewn logs, “Plasterd” the cracks with lime and mortar, shingles tight secure from the rain, a large “brad”(broad) chimney, where we piled on the hickory logs, sitting circled around the “cherful” blaze, after the days work was done, a large stone pitcher full of cider, a plate of red apples, a Jonny cake baking before the fire. Do you know what we call Jonny cake? Stoves have destroyed the Jonny cake. You cant bake them in a stove as mother did before the bright coal fire. Well if you don’t know how the “Modus oporendy” was performed; if you ever have such a chimney, such bright hickory coals and clean hearth! you might be tempted to try it! Now for the making of the board first, father or some of the male family nicely polished a board of some kind of hard wood, I believe “hicory”, maple or sugar tree. Pine would not do, it would make the Jonnacake taste of the pine, and any wood that would be liable to make the cake “loose” its natural “flavour” would be objectionable, the board was about seven inches broad, two feet long. Mother didnt spare the lard and eggs, for she had a large smoke house, great rows of large flat gourds full of nice white lard, as for chickens, we had fried chicken, stewed chicken, baked chicken and chicken pie until it was no variety. We sold no chickens or eggs. We must not neglect the Jonnacake! After the dough was seasoned and properly prepared, spread it smoothly on the Jonnacake board, about three “quartrs” of an inch thick, place it flat on the “herth” one side to the coals, let it stay until brown a little, turn it round and brown the other edge, then prop it up at right angle, turn it again until the whole front is brown, take it off the board, place the bottom side to the fire it will stand now without the board, in the same way bake as many as required. Oh! with watering mouth I have watched mother, I remember the whole process. In the winter the cider became very cold, we had an Iron for the purpose, heat it in the sweet “hicory” coals, plunge in the pitcher and General Harrison and his “diciples” didnt have better hard cider, it has stimulating qualities enough to brighten up your dormant faculties, and loose your tongue for pleasant conversation. Then the feast! and such a feast!! Such bread! Oh such bread!!.havent and never expect to see such bread as mother baked before the hickory coals! We “varid” the feast, in the evening I would go round to my traps bring in a dozen more or less quails, they were plenty, and easily caught, clean and hang on a spit before the bright coals and “whyle” the Jonnacake is getting ready, turn and “ceep” turning until “thourely done, butter, salt and pepper. Some people eat to live, but a “helthy” boy lives to eat! Oh! My childhood! My childhood!! how happy my childhood!!

To return to fathers castle. You know a mans house is said to be his castle and fathers was decent, warm and comfortable, if it was built with logs. A house built as fathers was, is warmer than if built with plank. The house “stod” on a low ridge running east and west, gradually sloping to the north and south, on the north of his farm was an open “hickory barrier” (?) as far as the Kentucky line, on the south of his pasture fence ran a “publick” road, “parilel” with the pasture, south of the road was heavily timbered, all the way to the Red River about two miles; the timber consisted of red oak, poplar, gums, walnut and other kinds, here father obtained his fence rails, shingles and boards. From where the house stood it gradually sloped to the south and north, just enough to run off extra rain and not wash in gullies. The south side and front was a large pasture, in blue grass and clover, a few shade trees for the comfort of the stock where they could lie in the shade in the heat of the day. A well in front of the house, it was some distance from the house I guess about two hundred yards, but the water paid for the trouble, we raised the water with the old fashioned sweep. Mother always “cept” a nice long handled gourd hanging on the post by the well. She knew how to make it sweet by boiling and scraping, when the old moss covered bucket comes up, dip the sweet gourd in and if you are thirsty, “qunch” your thirst with the cool, pure and delicious nectar. The well was located in the Lawn, if you will allow me the “aristocratick” word for pasture. Novelists always have a lawn of some sort in their books. I am inclined to believe that fathers pasture was a lawn, and a beautiful one at that! No matter a name you know? The well was for the convenience of watering both man and beast.

At this moment some of the advantages and beauties are brought to my recollections. The well was at the head of a small hollow, shaded by a cluster of tall oaks. Oh! How many times I played and amused my self under the cool shades, below the well was built a dam which caught the water from the rains and well. The pond held water for a dry season. (We had no spring.) It would be hard to forget this pond, it was my skating rink. I could not say how many times I have seen stars in broad day light. Oh!!

CHAPTER 9

From the well, go with me to the house, when we approach the yard fence, you see to the right a vegetable garden, plenty of large cabbage, to last the winter, and other vegetables too tedious to mention. (Father saved seeds for the whole neighborhood) A little further on we come to a privy hedge trimmed nicely on both sides and top; it had grown so thick and strong you could lie on it.

This was for mother to bleach her linen. I don't remember much about roses and flowers, father and mother thought more about the solid comforts, and the beautiful blossoms of father's orchard was enough for me; but come with me to the left and north of the house, now look to the northwest; you see the orchard about twenty acres, as well as I remember; it is a large one anyway, nearly filled with fruit trees. It would be useless to try to tell the various kinds; father was an orchardist, had selected the best that could be procured in the whole county around, but we will have more to say about father's knowledge about fruit trees presently. Now look to the west of the orchard, and you will see a pretty large corn field, where I thought the corn grew so tall. Now we will turn to the east, here you see his largest wheat and corn fields northeast by east. His tobacco field was east and nursery also. He had a large nursery for it took us a long time to graft.

But enough for you old folks, you may now go into the house; you won't find much fine furniture, but everything clean and neat. Father will entertain you, especially if you are religious. If you want to know something about a particular passage in the Bible, father can give you book, chapter and verse. He can tell you how to plant, prune and all about an orchard, and he was a successful farmer at that day, but I don't know whether you will gather much information about "politicks" and if you get dull and need a little stimulus, father is a temperance man in every sense of the word, but he will give you some cider (he had no wine) or if you won't take too much, a little good peach brandy, or if you get tired of father's hospitality you may go home. However, if you will bear with me, you old folks, a little longer, I will take you into Father's orchard before I dismiss you and commence with the children, but the children may come along, they might learn something that would benefit them hereafter.

CHAPTER 10

Now old folks, no “wel” “cal” “yo” our dear parents! We children are going to have a long “frolick” by ourselves! We have been with you and “cept” in your company until you must be tired! We dismissed you once before as we thought in good company, yet we “permited” you to follow; you know you caught us in one idle scrape! Now it might be best for you to “scip” [skip] a chapter or two. We give you fair warning, by your “permission”, we will be in no hurry to get back! the oldest of we children will be apt to “ceep” us in some order, but if you do “ceep” your Eye on us at some distance, recollect we are children, you know you were children once yourselves, and if you see a good many little improprieties dont be too severe, we know you dont use the rod in this “enlighted” age, but we dont like to be scolded either! So please put our little imperfections by! Well we know you are in a hurry to be off, be good children, mind your leader, look for snakes, there is a good many rattle snakes in the barns, we kiss you dear children good by! and give you a long “hollowday”!

Now my little play mates I must carry you to fathers orchard again, there are a good many amusements out side. Yet. I liked my fathers orchard best, for he had apples, too many to name them if I could remember their names. Pears, peaches, peaches were not as good as I have seen, plums, cherries. Now boys the cherries arent ripe yet, but when they do get ripe, if you “promis” father that you will be very careful and not “brake” the limbs, he will let you climb up on the limbs and eat all your fill, but for fear that you may do as I, a naughty boy, swallowed the stones, to guard you boys I must tell you my little story. Oh! how many times I had perched in a cherry tree, we have red and black. Well boys, one time before mother taught me better, I “eat” too much, and swallowed the stones. Did you ever have the stomach “ake”? but here is a change of name, if mother asks me where the pain is, I would not know where to place my hand at this day. Some of you little ones may think me “vulgar” if we tell you the name we knew it by; but as said before little George wont tell a lie, so I must out with it at the “expence” of being disgraced, and before I out with it, we will mention an other change. I did not know mother by any other name than Mother, and I was not so refined as the little ones are now, for they are taught like a little lamb, run up to Mother and say MA! MA!! my stomach “akes”! but when I came down from the cherry tree, I ran to mother! MOTHER!!, my belly aches so bad! but Mother knew how to cure me, by placing hot cloths to the forbidden part, and placing me on a stool as hot as I could bare it. This last remedy was an “infallible” cure and I have often cured myself when I have had imprudently “eat” too much, don’t be as big a glutton as I was. I loved fruit, but if you do catch the belly “ach”, try my remedy! but as we are in the orchard yet, we had beside quinces, goose berrys, father (it is hard to”lern” to say Pa) brought the seed from North Carolina. Raspberries plenty in the corners of the orchard fence, we cultivated, they grew luxuriantly. The fence was a rail fence, useless to describe them, you have seen them! We have no black berry, but we have a berry much sweeter that grew in the corner of the field fences and outside too, we call them Dewberries. We have no cultivated strawberries, but we will find them inside the fence corners, and outside and all over the hickory barrens, and especially near hazel nut patches (there is rich land around the hazel nut patches) great beds, acres, covered with the white blossom. I have been watching them for the first one ripe, they are beginning to ripen now, but wait little boys! We will soon carry you to beds, beds so thick, literally “coverd” with red ripe berrys My!your mouths are watering, but you must have a little patience! Yes we are having our happiest days but we must have patience, and wait for the fruit to ripen. I have told you that I have been watching the strawberrys from the first bloom until I found the first ripe bunch, they must be ripe now, we must get ready, but we wont be selfish and invite all the family, but as so many are going we must have something to hold them, we will find more than we can eat, as we have no store to run and buy baskets, you want to know how we obtain them, do you?

You see we have little handle baskets stronger if not so handsome as the store baskets, and all sizes of baskets with handles. But you must excuse me and wait for the baskets “manufactery” also. I’m in the habit of departing form my subject, but as there is no one to bring me to order, I hope you will not be impatient, the berry will be riper. Seeing the big” bascits” puts me in mind of the use we had for them. Now you see I’m a pretty big boy, and had to help feed the stock. The big baskets full of nubbins and split ears of corn, how do you split them you inquire? Oh! we have no machinery, you will find great improvements when you become older, especially if you live to be eighty years old, but we use a prong of a bucks horn or sharpen a “scure” [skewer] out of a piece of “hicory” stick, we push the point of the horn or “scure” in the pith of the cob, and it will split the ear “open”, so the cows can chew it some cows could take a whole ear in their mouth and prepare it to swallow, but the little “yerlings”, like you and I could not take such great big mouths full, so by splitting the corn they could masticate and easily swallow. I have to feed the “yong” “ons”, the big “ons” might run over me. I have informed you that we have some very cold, frosty weather in Tennessee and although I’m clothed with warm woolen clothes from hands to feet, yet my ears are exposed if you are not afraid of the snow and frost go with me to feed the cows. Oh! Your ears begin to hurt you do they? Oh! Oh!! My ears will get frost bit! Well the cows are fed, let us hasten to the warm hickory fire, oh how cheerful! but our ears ache a good while! while we are warming you want to know how I came “buy” such warm comfortable clothes, do you? Well mother, sister, and a couple of, you will call them when you get older, women of “coulor”, what color? They are pretty dark, yes almost black! You see we call them Negroes! well we believe that is the name they are known by in the “countery” they came from. Are you ashamed of your “countery”? My little Chinaman you are a little “taned”! No! I stick up for my “countery”! well so do I! and I would not be ashamed to be “called” a Negro if I was from Africa! but I’m rambling! They all knew how to manage the large fleeces of fathers sheep, the Negro women did the washing, but they know how to card and spin and one knows how to weave, but sister knows how to make them up so neat you see! Yes mother spins fine thread on her flax wheel, you see how fine and strong it is and that is, and that is the reason why my clothes dont rip. Yes mother knit my warm gloves and socks. The Government must be “loosing” a great deal you say! well yes but we are poor, and we know how the “tariff” operates, free trade and “sailers” rights is our motto! we see that the poor man if he “wares” fine “forern” [foreign] broadcloth has to pay as much of the taxes as the rich man, but as you are getting warm we will cut it short, we believe the wealth of the country should pay the taxes! but you want to know something about the manufacturing of the baskets? Well you are warm now come with me to “Unckl” Peters work shop. Who is “Unckl” Piter? you ask so many questions? but you are excused we children are inquisitive, your little brains are active you ask one question and before its answered ask another! but you have just hit it, and we will answer your last question first! Some one must have made the baskets, and Uncle Piter is the “jenius” and “mechanick” who makes the baskets! and a good many other wooden wares such as wooden trays, wooden bowls and wooden spoons etc. Yes, he is a very “injenious” Negro man, his “boddy” and arms are very strong but from some cause his legs and feet are deformed, we always “considerd” him free for he went and came wherever he wished. I don’t know when or how he came to father, he was with us at the first of my “recollection”. I believe he took a fancy to the family! but in many things he is very useful, and dont wait to be told, for he is always willing to help, but the Baskets? We have to hunt in the swamp for a young straight white oak stick, we bring it, Peter, he can manage it now! he splits to suit, you see what nice smooth splits he has in a tub of water, and the hoops for the handle, ribs, splits, yes we see! and we now see how baskets are made! but we wont wait to see one made, for here is plenty already made, wait a little, I must tell you a little more about Uncle Peter, I have said he was quite a “jenius”. After he had the material brought to him, he could turn his hand to almost anything, making good ax helves, hoe helves and many other “conveninses” but his “profesion” from which he obtained his small change was the “manufactury” of wooden ware. What he does with his money I don’t know for he is fed and clothed like the rest of us.

Well I see you are all “satisfied” and know how baskets are made, as we will spend the day in the strawberry patches, we will carry a lunch, Mother has some tender spring chicken, it is “amost” too “erly” but she has some hens that hatch late in the fall, and by taking good care of them, they are plump and tender, now she has some already baked for us, and as for her light corn bread and the biscuits plenty of lard and butter in them, Oh such bread and biscuits! we don’t want any tarts, strawberries are better, but we might get thirsty, there is no water in the”barius” [?]. Yes we had better put in a few bottles of cider. Now gather your baskets put in the lunch, dont forget the cider. You all havent baskets have you? Well “hers” [heres] some tin cups, when you fill it, you can empty into some of the baskets, but I’m afraid you little Gorman will eat so much that you will become lazy, make believe you are tired, and lie down in the shade. All ready! here we go! Stop you little scamp, you “needent” be in such a hurry! You will tire your self! Mother and sister when I was a little shaver like you, told me that I had better take it easy, it is some distance and your little legs will become so tired!

Well we have reached the strawberries at last! My! The ground is fairly red, did you ever see anything more tempting? Well dont eat too much, we have a nice lunch you know! and when we go home we will want a plate with cream! Well you have our baskets full? I see you have plenty any way, so look for a cool shade tree, spread your table cloth, sit around boys. Dont you think the baked chicken and bread and biscuits are nice! Oh! they are excellent! now take a glass of cider and pick a few more berries, Oh! You have enough? Well rest under the shade, you better not “roal” [ roll] about on the grass you will stain your clothes with the berrys! Well if you are rested we will start home! You are getting very tired you little “todler”, I told you so! I remember when I was of your size my legs did ache so bad! Mother would take “pitty” on me and carry me for a spell, and I was glad enough to reach home. Now fathers and mothers dont think this is fiction I have had many! very many!! such “picknicks”, every summer, and more than one in a summer too, don’t you believe I ought to remember my childhood? but I will dismiss you again, for Im not done with the children.

Well when we children get home rest and pick the stems from the berries, you can have all the rich cream you want our cream is extra our cows have been “feding” on “luxurint” blue grass,take all you want, but look out, if you eat too much you might have my complaint.

CHAPTER 11

Well boys, I have been watching the "rise"berries and cherries also, I find there is always some kind of fruit coming in after the strawberries, the raspberries are getting ripe. When I was a little boy I was very selfish, I watched the berries like a hawk, and had to go to a good many patches and eat all I found and never carried mother and sister a single berry: since I am bigger, I think I was a very naughty, greedy boy! But there is plenty now, take a cup, it will take too long to pick a basket full, they are so near the house we can go and pick what we want to eat when we feel like it: but the dewberry we will have some walking to find them, but they are splendid when you do find them.

Now boys, I feel like moralizing a little. I told you that there was, after the strawberries, some kinds of fruit in their season regularly coming in during the summer, indeed some kind of apples "ceep" until apples begin to ripen so we see we have fruit all the year. Was this wise arrangement made for the greater pleasure of the children? It looks so. What boundless wisdom the Creator of so many pleasures and comforts within our reach if we only use the proper means. Yes, by the sweat of the brow, we may imitate the garden that Adam and Eve was turned out of. They, as we are informed, had apples, as tempting to me, I guess, as they were to Mother Eve in the garden of Paradise. Have patience, we will come to the apples after a while.

Who would not be a farmer and provide so many pleasures for the children and comforts for themselves (How I regret that I tried anything else. Too late now to cry over spilt milk.) We don't remember what kind of fruits come in order. Plums, cherries, peaches were all watched with interest, but I will leave all the rest and come to the apples, for I vividly recollect how I watched for the first ripe, June apple, when I was little like some of you boys. Yes, boys, we had birds too, some very pretty, some of these pretty birds were little thieves, but they did not know any better. They made havoc with the early June apple. They know better than I did when this apple was getting ripe. Boys, I guess I was no better than the most of you; some call us bad boys if we rob a bird's nest; bad or good I was fond of hunting birds' nests. I don't know whether I destroyed many, but I liked to watch them build their nests, lay their speckled eggs, hatch their young, and it was interesting to see the old mother feed them. When she came flying to the nest with a worm, their mouths would open so wide, one little "gorman" would take the whole of it: when she would fly off again and bring another worm, all of their mouths would open, the "gorman" with the rest. How could she tell which to give it to? They all seemed to grow alike, if the "gorman" received more than the rest, he would be the largest, fat and plump, but nature had taught her to know her little brood just as well as your mother knows her family of three or four little darlings. Now "ain't" it wonderful! Past our comprehension how such a wise, foreseeing, powerful, good, great and merciful Creator of the universe could exist? One that created so many living beings from the least insect to the mammoth and instill and give them all the instincts to know how to provide for their own protection, life and comfort. No, we cannot comprehend such a Creator!! See how wise, yes the Creator had given her (this little mother bird) the knowledge to know her brood of young ones, she knew the little "gorman", and placed the second worm in another mouth and continued to feed each one until they all fared alike, and what a flutter she would be in if we approached too near, yes, she would risk her life to protect her young: she fed them and hovered over them every night to keep them warm until their wings and bodies were fledged so they could fly and protect themselves! Now, ain't this wonderful knowledge for a little bird? What a long paragraph, moralizing again! Well, boys we will return! I told you the little birds knew better than I did when the June apples were ripe enough to eat. (Mother had taught me, and experience also, that green apples were unhealthy) and in pecking in the ripest threw some on the ground before they had "eat" much of it, which I was sure to find and what the birds had left mellow, and to a boy that had anticipated such a treat, delicious. Now boys, we see these June apples are ripening; come with me, by looking at them you see that some of them are turning streaked and red, we will pick some of the ripest and place them in the grass near the fence. where we stragglers will find them; in a short time they will be delicious and by the time these are gone, ripe apples become so plentiful that you will bite one and if it don't suit your taste, throw it at a bird or on the ground; in deed all kinds of fruit have become to be no rarity since I have grown bigger at a certain time the apple orchard was not so charming!

Picking and packing apples to the cider trough, all day long, was too much like work. We boys like to hunt birds, run and play. I don't think we ever get tired at play; but put them at work, they get oh! so tired! We wish it was noon, but instead of resting the hour or two allowed for rest, I don't bet, but I believe I would wager some trifle that I, at least when a boy, would run to see how many eggs my bird's nest has. Yes, I was busy at some kind of play until it was time to go to work again. I hardly had taken time to eat my dinner. Well, father has made a great deal of cider, a hundred barrels or more, and it took a long time to finish the whole process. Machinery will wonderfully improve in labor saving in 80 years; but, boys come with me to the cider making; you will see how primitive we are. You see we have a long, big trough, pour in the apples, commence pounding with a flat ended pestle, keep pounding until we have enough "pummice" for the press. Uncle Peter was a right hand man at this work, he had strong arms and always made himself useful. Now fathers and mothers, we are not done with our children but you may keep us company if you like. We might notice you, as well as the children as we progress with our narrative; if we should say anything that don't touch you, of course you won't mind it. Yes, I have been with the children and tried to talk childish, and although I am a child according to the saying, I now resume my original mode of language and shall continue to the end of my poor history.

CHAPTER 12

As I don't expect to have much more to record about Uncle Peter, I pronounce his obituary and leave his soul to his God. He lived a Christian life, belonged to the church, lived and died in this family.

We have our trough full of pumice and now for our primitive mode of pressing. Father had left a tree near his cider house. There was a mortise in it for the end of the beam to enter a platform with channels all around to convey the cider to the spout. Twisted ropes of clean wheat straw circled it round on the platform, filled it up with pumice; made another "reath", fill up, continue the same process until it was as high as safe from bursting; place some straw on top, then on the top of the straw plank or planks; now for the beam or lever at the far end there was a mortise through which a tongue or narrow plank was inserted fastened at the lower end in a cross beam. There was auger holes in the tongue, raise the beam as high as required, stick a peg under it, whenever you lower your beam. Now boys, be careful, sweet cider has a good deal of cathartic qualities in it; but boys will be boys and not always listen to the advice of old folks that have "lernt' by experience. I know you boys love sweet things, but if you drink too much of this sweet cider, you might wish you were in your shirt tail again!

Now, let us go into father's wheat field but we won't pattern after the farmer and his son and the lark. It is a good story, no doubt, but you all have read it, but some of you may not; as there is a good moral in it I will tell it as I remember it. I may not quote correctly, but will try to give the substance. A farmer and son had a wheat field as father and I have. They went into the field, the father said to the son, "The wheat is ripe, go out and ask our neighbors to help us cut it." There was a lark built her nest in the wheat field, (larks build their nests on the ground, no doubt she had selected a nice place, one where she would be safe from the hawks). She heard the farmer give directions to his son. She said to her little fledglings, "I'm going out to seek food for you, listen to what the farmer says when he comes." When he came, his neighbors failed to make their appearance. "My son, go ask our relatives, they will surely come and help us." When the lark returned, she asked her young what the farmer said and they informed her. "You may rest contented, my little ones, today I 'm going out again but be very particular to hear what he says this time." The farmer came but his relatives failed to come to his assistance. "Now, my son, we must prepare to cut it down ourselves." When the mother lark heard this, she said to her young, "It is time to move."

Well, father knew what the farmer learned by experience that if you want a thing done, send your man, but if well done, go yourself. So, with our syckles on our shoulders we entered the wheat field and bend to our work. We take the syckle by the handle through the hook around some wheat, draw it to you, grasp it with the left hand, cut it off, when your hand is full lay it down. (Take care if you are a new hand and inexperienced as I was the first time I went into a wheat field, you may cut yourself). This is hard work for the back, if you work steady all day, binders follow the reapers and bend in bundles, shock it up three or four or more bundles to let it dry before we thrash. After days of labor, we have the field of wheat cut and shocked.

You will no doubt think me prolix in describing my early recollections, but in as few words as are at my command, I do this to show what gigantic progress you have made. How long do you think it would take two or three hands to reap with a syckle one hundred acres? Before I left Tennessee we had improved considerable by the invention of the cradle. The cradle did the work of two hands at least. But I am not done with my prolixity. I will show you how we made a thrashing floor and thrashed out the corn. The Bible says it was corn but as we understand it we know it must have been wheat. I guess our Indian corn has been discovered since the Bible was written. I believe the thrashing floor was about the same that Nabat had and the Bible says you must not muzzle the ox that tramps out the corn. Well, we improved a little for horses are a little more cleanly and brisk.

I lernt to ride when I was very, very young. My first ride is as long as I can remember; some of the hands was plowing, I guess I was toddling behind in the furrow; the ploughman took pity on me and concluded to learn me to ride horseback. They placed me on the horse, made me take hold of the top of the harness with both hands. I don't now remember, but I think I was much alarmed at first and clung tight to the harness. I finally began to like it and was as proud as a frog on a "tussick". But I soon learnt to ride and nothing gave me more pleasure than to be on horseback. And I looked for the harvest as giving me one of my most pleasant times. But the thrashing floor first. We cleaned and scraped a circle near the barn, selecting a level place, mauled and made as hard as we could. I don't remember the diameter of the circle but large enough for the horses to go round with convenience and to hold a good large bed of wheat, a stake in the "senter".

CHAPTER 13

I guess you think enough has been said about my childhood. I have heard of old soldiers getting together and over their bowl of punch fighting their battles "or"! Well, since I'm in my second childhood, you must not blame me if I take more pleasure than you will in hearing it. It brings to my recollections so many incidents that I had entirely forgotten. So I'm fighting my childhood battles "or", and take pleasure in doing so. Since I'm not quite through yet, but I will get through after a while, for the battle can't last always.

I was fond of hunting even when quite young and was glad to go when brother Joseph would let me. When older, my man Friday was all the company I wanted. I don't think I liked brother Joseph as a brother should, but as I said once before, I do not think he was a very bad boy; yet he did play pretty dirty tricks with me sometimes. I will only mention one occurrence to show why my love was not so strong as it ought to have been. I believe he was plowing and I was possibly teasing and bothering him for a ride; I must have had my mouth open, possibly crying or asking for what I wanted when he threw a loose clod at me and filled my mouth full of dirt. Older brothers, if they expect or would like to retain the love and affections of their young brothers, should bear with many little follies and cultivate their love. The Bible says,"Behold, how pleasant for brothers to agree"!! I'm sure brother Joseph pacified me, for he did not intend to fill my mouth with dirt, only threw it at me, my mouth being open received it. He no doubt let me ride all I wanted for I'm sure I did not run and tell mother or I should remember more about it.

I must say that I never had the love that brothers ought to have for each other except brother John. When father moved to Mississippi, he was my counselor when a boy, assisted me in many ways when older. I firmly believe our love for each other lasted with him until his death; and now I shed a tear in remembering how good and kind he always was to his youngest brother. But I shall have more to say about my dear brother, hereafter.

But to return to my "knight' hunts. I don't believe boys now are as fond of this kind of sport as I was; possibly they never lived where there was so many fox, coons, opossum and other game, where the fox, coon and rabbit skins was so valuable to a boy. The opossum we hunted and killed because he was so much like a chinaman. He loved fowls, would visit our hen house and make havoc with the young fowls. The Negros eat them and say they are as good as roast pig but I don't believe I ever liked them much. The Negros would bring in a choice piece frequently to tempt us, but I had seen too many and packed them by their ugly tough tails and been disgusted with their unpleasant smell to appreciate them as a great delicacy on the table. The Negros knew how to prepare them so nicely that if you did not know what kind of a dish was before you, you would pronounce it as fine roast sucking pig as you ever "eat", rather too fat.

For the information of the young ones, or those that have never been familiar with the opossum, I will describe one of his ways to preserve his life, and who won't use all the senses they possess to save their life? The opossum is a slow animal to travel and here we see the knowledge and goodness of its Creator in giving this ugly animal the instinct or sense to guard against danger. The moment he finds that the dog will overtake him he doubles himself up; you would pronounce him dead. Even the dog will hardly bite him and who would strike a dead animal!

The foregoing puts me in mind of another friend and protector that I have not thought of for upwards of sixty years. How could I forget my Towser! Yes, his name was Towser. I have called him too often to forget his name; I only had to say, "Come Towser, now for a hunt"; he was a sensible dog, he seemed to understand just as well as my Sambo did, when I called him also. When I was big enough to be trusted with a gun, it's possible that Towser understood that better when I had my gun on my shoulder; at any rate, Towser was hard to excel as a coon dog. Indeed, he was fonder of the sport than I was for many times on dark, rainy "knights", he would go out hunting by himself and hardly ever failed to tree a coon; and if we did not go to his assistance to capture it, would stay by the tree and bark all "knight". Towser never made any mistake. If you heard him bark a peculiar bark as much as to say, "Come along, I have treed him, now for the gun and ax". If the coon was in sight we brought him down "isily" enough but if the tree had to be cut down, this gave us pretty hard work. But the old coon was not always ours, for some of them was sensible enough to climb a big tree and hide in some hole or hollow and we and our faithful Towser had to leave in disgust.

The fox was harder to capture even than the wild cat; we had some of them also. The fox is a very cunning animal, but as sensible as he was, Towser was sensible too; he never yelped when after his game, and here we might learn something, even if we are smart and know a great deal. A word glibly spoken will make us show that we have a "dinam" more than by too much rolling of the tongue we might let something slip that would not show to our advantage and disgust or alarm our hearers; but Towser knew better, he was after a sensible fox and kept his mouth shut until he was close upon our fox's heels, he had to take a tree but when the fox saw us coming with the gun the sense endowed him by his Creator taught him there was danger. He would leap to the ground (he knew he could outrun Towser) sometimes almost into Towser's jaws, but as he was sprier and much more active, he would evade Towser's grab. Towser never ran a great ways after a fox. He knew when the fox saw there was danger that he could run much faster than he could, and would come back wagging his tail, "It's no use, you must go home without the fox's scalp".

It would tire the reader and me also in recording the many pleasant coon, fox, rabbit and other game hunting sports, so will only mention one other kind of sport that I was then, and am now, fond of. Fishing! But I will only tire you with one trip for I went fishing often. The first I ever recollected with father who fished with a hook and line. I remember one time he had a fine string of perch, but the trip I promised to mention we were after bigger fish. I was a well grown boy, ten or twelve years old and could paddle and steer a canoe; we always kept one at our landing; it ain't necessary to describe the boat. However, for my little ones' benefit I had better give them some idea what a canoe was. It wasn't as big and clumsy as Robinson Crusoe's was, but it was made out of a part of a tree all the same; only I guess ours of lighter timber, softer and easily to build. I don't know, however, what kind of timber Crusoe had but ours was poplar. We selected a tree as large as we wanted; large poplars grew on our rich bottoms. It is said, "As the tree falls,so it lies", but some of ours had to season; we selected as much as we wanted, I guess about twenty feet, cut and adzed out the inside; it is sometime since I read Crusoe, but I believe his man Friday "learnt" him an easier way by burning the inside out, but we had better tools and was in a hurry. The green poplar don't burn well but when dry is almost as good as pine knots to give a brilliant light. We will have a use for some presently. Well, after the inside was cut, hewn and adzed to the size we wanted, the sides and bottom hewn and polished, the bow and stern shaped to our taste, made as light as strength would allow, it did not give us as much trouble as Crusoe's had ( you all have read Crusoe's book, no doubt), to launch it in the Red River where it floated like a duck. I believe this canoe finally reached Fort Adams on the Mississippi River in company with a larger water craft; we called the latter flat boat, some call them broad horns. I guess some wag, who thought himself smart, traveling on the steam boat, nicknamed our more safe and only conveyance of produce to market at that time, yes, the wag curled his lip and cried out "Broad Horns" with contempt at our slow movement on the Great Father of waters. Well, I'm not sure that I have described to your comprehension the modus of the building of our canoe but we must conclude it is finished.

This canoe could easily carry four or five. Being flat on the bottom, there was very little danger in turning over and I at least had no fear for I could swim like a duck. We paddled our canoe up the river in daylight as far as we wanted time to float back at "knight". Some of the company know where there was an old dilapidated poplar fence, I'm not sure there wasn't some stealing, but if there was I was not the leader and cannot say but what the fence was entirely deserted for no one forbade us taking all the old rails we wanted, cut and split them into "cindling" wood, when piled on the platform made of boards lain cross the canoe with dirt on them, made a bright light when dark came. The darker the better; if cloudy and a little sprinkle, still better. Having as much "cindling" as required, being all ready--one at the stern with a paddle to guide, one before the platform and one behind standing with their gigs, we called them, but some would call them spears, no matter, all the same, the handle of the spear or gig had to be made of strong and tough timbers for sometimes we would spear a big fish that would snap the handle if made out of tender wood and we would lose the gig and fish too, but not often. When the fish was found to be a whale, the spearsman let loose the handle, as the river was not so deep that the fish could carry the handle out of sight it would not be long before it would give up the ghost and we would be able to capture it. This is no fish story for Red River was noted for some monster red horse fish. But it looks like we had commenced gigging fish before we had started. Well, I will go back and commence again as said before, the giggers or spearsmen standing before and behind our brilliant light, the canoe unmanned, moving silently down the stream, fish can hear as well as see, the uncommon brilliancy of the light seems to fascinate. I guess they wonder what it can be. They have never seen anything so brilliant in the "knight" unless it was a flash of lightening and that was over so quick they had not time to notice it much; but if you strike the paddle on the side of the canoe, they think there is danger and will dart off in deep water. But we are cautious to make no more noise than we can help. Pretty soon one of the spearsman sees a fish big enough to spear. It requires some skill, if you strike in a direct line as the fish appears to you, you will strike over it. The water will deceive you, but you must aim under according to the depth of the water, the spearsman soon learns. But we will get to spearing now one spearsman brings up a large perch, another a pike, too boney, no good as John says l but another brings up a large red horse--fine eating, this, not so good as the perch, however, but they continue to bring them in until we reach an apple orchard on the bank of the river; where we fastened our canoe. Now boys, I guess you know what we are after; I don't know whether you will call it stealing for we found on the ground great big yellow, mellow horse apples (the man that owned the orchard was named Nelson, we knew him and did not think he would care if we "eat" all we wanted) we carried none away, for we had plenty at home. Well, we fished on down to our landing and had as many fish as we could carry with other trap. We chained and locked the canoe and carried our paddles home. Now boys, this is one of my fish experiences and the last I will tell you about my fishing days in Tennessee. Don't you think it was fine sport?

CHAPTER 14

The shaking of the earth at this day is no novelty. But when I was a child eight years old (1812) and had never heard of such convulsions, indeed hardly anyone in the neighborhood had heard of earthquakes, at least no one had experienced such shaking as this one. No wonder the people became alarmed and thought the world was coming to an end. The result was many additions to the church! It is a part of history, the sinking of part of New Madria; New Madria is no great distance from father's and we felt the shake as sensibly as any in its vicinity. One morning as I came down stairs (I have always been a sound sleeper and the shake during the night had not disturbed me) sister Rebecca was standing describing a terrible shake that had occurred during the "knight". While she was speaking, the chairs and everything in the house began to rattle, the floor vibrate so I could hardly stand, and the whole building shook like it would fall on our heads. There must have been pale faces, for the shake was awful! Those who had read of earthquakes knew that whole cities and large sections of country sometimes sink and become a sea of water; even if any was as well posted, had read history, this shake was enough to alarm them more, for they did not know but this was the very spot that would sink!

The churches at that day, especially the Methodist, preached Hell fire and Brimstone very strong! This shake made the people think they were close to the "burny" pit, and as I said, many, very many, flocked to the church. The Methodists had the most, but after the people became more enlightened about earthquakes, a great many like the dog, returned to their vomit, and some with seven more devils added. I don't believe, and never did, in a scared religion; it is too cowardly. I hardly think Father was much alarmed no doubt he had read of earthquakes and if we were about to sink, if any was prepared to meet his God, Father was.

I guess it would not do to leave my childhood without having at least one real love scrape. In novels there must be a heroine, yes, an angel, exquisite beauty or the work would be read without interest. Well, I had my angel and no mistake! I don't know how many degrees there is in child's love. I was a boy eleven or twelve years old and I think my love was in the superlative. She may have coquetted with me for all I remember but she was lovely. Such eyes, such a beautiful "rosy" face, her voice soft and melodious, figure perfect, hands small, "taper" fingers. I don't think I looked at her feet to see what number of shoes she wore. I did everything in my power to anticipate her every wish; gave her red apples. When I was going the rounds to visit my traps, I was thinking how glad I would be to capture a good supply of quails for the delicate palate of my Dulcinea. But as much as I was enraptured, I was too bashful to ask her to wait for me. It may be cowardice but the "trooth" must out. I always was afraid of the girls, for the life of me I can't tell why. In company of the girls I generally lost my speech if I thought I had learnt it well and could only reply in monosyllables; but somehow the girls are not so easily scared. I believe they are braver than the boys, yes, their tongues are their swords. You see they are generally very sharp; is that what scares the boys? All I know about my fascinator is she was a young lady who visited my sister to spend a few weeks; I don't remember her name. As well as I look at it now, she must at least have been twenty years old; however, when she left, her disconsolate lover didn't go like a fool and drown himself! But as I have been blessed with forgetting and having a poor memory, I sometimes think it is a blessing, some things it would be happiness to forget; however, I soon was reconciled and had forgotten her until now.

I will record only one more pleasant occurrence and bid goodbye to the long remembered days that many would join me in truly saying the happiest days of their variegated life.

I've had my little ones with me in the orchard, strawberry patches, under the grapevine, quail trapping, in the cherry tree, hunting, fishing, gathering walnuts, hickory nuts, hazel nuts and a good many things that children like, but you all say enough. Possibly many of you have seen and been pleased with your childhood more than I have. But you must follow me once more. I had you into the wheat field, now we go into the corn field and will bid you goodbye!!

CHAPTER 15

I used to think that father's corn grew very tall, possibly it was because I was so small! But when he had hauled and piled it 'long his crib, it made a large pile. And now comes the interesting part to a boy, or was to me. The corn shucking (husking, some call it) no matter all the same. When this corn was all hauled up, the crib uncovered, we gave out the invitation that we were ready for the corn shucking; it did not require much inviting to gather both white and black, sometimes girls and boys, to come to the fun; good cheer and feast. We have plenty of hands to clean up the pile if some did go into the crib without being shucked.

When the hands were all gathered they chose two of the most popular negro boys for captains, the captains chose their companies, divided the pile of corn by placing a pole to show the division, throw up for choice, each captain on his side next the pole, call for their companies to come in line. They generally shuck the corn clean at first but when the jug of stimulating peach brandy has been around two or three times, the corn begins to fly with great rapidity; and when the best singer raises the tune, and the rest falls in with the chorus. The darkies have a voice and loud enough,if not in a chorus with the ear of a good judge of music, and I must say, to a child that had not studied music, very stimulating. The darkey is something of an author for they compose the song and tune too. When the song becomes lively, the corn flies with more rapidity towards the close, if the contest is close, more goes into the crib without shucking than is pleasant for the owner, and a good deal pushed back under the shucks and each captain, thinking all is fair in war, would push and throw the corn from their side to his opponent.

The last part of the conflict was really amusing; the jubilant cry of the victors, dampened the hearts of the conquered, but a few more swigs at the jug, soon made them submit with grace to their defeat. It generally ended by hoisting the victorious captain on their shoulders, making the "wilkin" ring with hussahs and song.

Why the boys and girls were fond of attending corn shucking, I hardly know, but they were always hunting for the red ear. It must have meant something, but we won't stop to investigate and proceed to the best part of all, the feast and such a feast! Good enough for a king!

The womenfolks had prepared boiled ham, roast mutton, roast pig, baked fowls, chicken pie and all kinds of pies and tarts too tedious to mention. A large stone jug full of cider on the table. The negroes had a table to themselves; they would not feel comfortable to sit with the whites for they like to have their jokes by themselves. Birds of a feather, you know! But the negroes had everything on their table that the whites had and more, for they are "harty" eaters when hungry. When the negroes finished their feast, they would march off singing with their stomachs full, and some with a little more brandy than was good for them. The boys and girls (I should have said the girls and boys to be polite) if it wasn't too late, would have some kind of amusements, games of some sort, (since reflecting about it) they would have their games and amusements if it did "ceep" them up until early in the morning. I will now bid goodbye to the girls and boys and follow my darkies a little which will bring me to the close of my childhood history.

CHAPTER 16

From my "erleist" recollection, I have been opposed to slavery and looked upon cruelty to man or beast with horror! I must have "lernt" it from my parents. My father was a great favorite of the preachers and deacons, for his house was always full on days of meetings (mother's skill in extra cooking might have had something to do with it. I believe preachers love chicken well prepared.) I had no young brothers or sisters to play with or if I had I really believe I would sooner sit and hear old people talk than play. Yes, I was very fond to listen to old people in conversation! Their tongues had been loosed by a little pure brandy, the bottle always on the sideboard. The preachers and deacons too, at that day were strictly temperate in every sense of the word. A drunken preacher, deacon, or member, either would have been hurled out of the church in short order for getting drunk. It may be easily guessed that in such gatherings there was a good deal of wisdom.

They conversed on religious and other topics. Negro slavery was often discussed and seemed of vital importance with them or it would not have been so indelibly fixed in my mind, that to this day I vividly recollect some of their plans for alleviating and bettering of the condition of the Africans in their native state of Barbary and those amongst us. The best plan that could be adopted was to colonize, a colony in Africa, free and send them to their native land and thereby civilize their brothers who are in such heathen darkness.They considered the finger of God in bringing them here, civilizing and sending them back to civilize their brothers! I firmly believe if this plan had been carried out, that many, very many, would have freed their slaves and sent them to the colony. Some would say why, why didn't they free their negroes? This was considered also. The Bible justified slavery. If you live in Rome, you must live as Romans do. We live in a slave section, many born and raised here. Even if a Northern man moved here, if he needed help for the feeble wife, he must either hire if from a slave owner, or buy a girl: now which would be the most merciful? It did seem to me and does yet, that to own your help and treat it kindly, you have only changed the slave for the better. The foregoing is what Father and his counselors believed!

In Tennessee, as far as my knowledge went, there was no large plantations but nearly every farmer had some slaves and if there was any cruelty, I never heard about it in our neighborhood but kind hearts connected with interest enabled the negro to receive every attention in sickness and in health. His temporal wants were all supplied without a particle of brain power on his part. Clothed, fed, doctors' bills paid, no taxes to worry, nothing to think about so far as tomorrow was concerned. But you say he had to work! Well, so did the Master with his brain and constant worry to make both ends meet and many with both head and hands too. I have had experience with both and can say with "trooth" that the happiest days of my manhood was when my hands was full of work and my mind on my work! I could eat hearty, enjoy my food and sleep sound. Yes, the negro at this time lived to eat and sleep. Are the freedmen at this day as happy and contented as my company's negroes marching on, singing their corn song? I don't believe you are. But I'm glad you are free but my heart bleeds to think what your freedom cost--so much precious blood and treasure. Well, I must leave my darkey friends for the present and get ready to move. As I am about to leave some of my sisters in Tennessee I will give all of my sisters and brothers, too, a parting notice.

My oldest sister, Nancy, mother's oldest child, married a gentleman named Morgan. They married in Sumner County; they lived and died in that county at a good old age. My sister had 13 sons; think of that you women of today. My sister would have been honored and considered blessed above all price, if she had lived in old Abraham's time. The next oldest brother, Samuel, married and settled near Father. He was in the Indian wars under Jackson. He was taken sick, came home and died; he was the first death in Father's family. I was very young but remember the lamentation over his death. I believe my brother lived and died an honorable man and left seven sons, no daughters. Sister, Lize, married a Taylor, a cousin, she was not so prolific. I believe she had a daughter that caught her dress on fire and died from the burn; this occurred so long ago that I have forgotten it until this moment but she had a living son who moved to Jackson, west Tennessee. Son Cornelius knows more about this branch of the family than I do. The next brother, Daniel, married and moved to Mississippi, I believe then a territory. The next sister, Lucy, married James King. They moved with us to Mississippi. Next in order brother John, he married and moved to Mississippi also. Sister Rebecca lived to be an old maid and moved with us, but finally married a Cooper. Her husband lived in a sickly place on Pearl River. They had several children but their fate is lamentable; her husband and herself died in their prime, and I believe the whole of the children died also. Father said my sister Rebecca had been a loving, faithful daughter and gave her more than any of his children. I have no doubt but she deserved Father's gift. My youngest sister, Sarah, married young, a Mr. Donnalson, they remained in Tennessee. My brother, Joseph, went to Mississippi before we moved and married in that state. I believe I have not neglected any of my brothers and sisters. Some of them I don't know how many children they had but they all had families of children.

Chapter 17

I don't remember any reason that father gave for leaving so many comforts in his old age but one; although he raised a big crib of corn, it all had to be fed out in the winter to the stock. Brothers had written to him that stock lived and even fattened in winter on the "mutten" cane and mothers always love their sons as fathers love their daughters best; this may have satisfied mother. As for myself, I was pleased; wanted to see more of the world for I had pretty well explored my childhood circle of ten or fifteen miles round and I was now about to enter a new era; my boyhood experience. I was looking for something greater and more pleasing than my childhood days. But alas, alas!! How I failed to hind it.

Well, father sold his farm, had a boat built; how I watched the building as anxious to start as if I expected to travel over the world. As I am so anxious to start, we will consider "Broad Horn" finished. Launched, loaded, not forgetting the barrel of mellow peach brandy; we must not forget that. We will want it for medicinal purposes. All aboard, now cut the cable! Glorious! Smoothly we float down the Red River into the Cumberland, a little larger, thence into the Ohio, still larger, now we float into the great Mississippi. My!Oh!! How grand it appeared to me when first presented to my view.

We floated on without much to relate until we met the first and only steam boat we saw on the trip, and a good long trip it was; we lay by of "knights" and foggy days. But the steamboat was something worth seeing to a boy who had hardly heard of one, much less seen one. It looked like some Monster Animal, long upright horns breathing with a terrible loud breath; the red hot furnace like two eyes, moving so smoothly up the current. Yes, it looked like a monster animal, a thing of life. I don't know whether this was the first steam boat that ascended the Mississippi. I have heard, however, that the first one did a good deal of scaring Indians and white men too. They, no doubt, some of them, had committed crimes enough by capturing the slow flat boat, killing those aboard, robbing and taking all the freight, then burn the boat and leave no vestige so they could be "tract". This is no fancy sketch; occurrences of this kind had taken place.

Well,these fiends and wretches might think that they deserve it and that the Devil was after them! Of course they ran, but I can imagine one of them getting behind a tree peeping to make further discoveries.

We saw a great many barges, a small boat, "leighbouring" up the river. They had to imitate the little fishes, "ceep" near the shore. They have a long and hard road to travel but the people up the country were depending on them for their sugar, coffee and tea and calicos also if the girls were so fortunate as to get a calico dress. Oh! how fine, and if they were pretty good looking and was also blessed with a small looking glass, they would turn their pretty heads from side to side, thinking they were fine enough to tempt the beaus without silks and satins, for they, if they had heard of any, never expected to wear any. Yes, the Beaus thought them good looking enough for them also, in their neat calico dress. As I said before, the barges have a long road to travel, up the Mississippi River, and distant tributaries. I know they went up the Cumberland as far as Clarksville, well, sometimes they rowed with oars, the current on one side near the shore was not so strong, sometimes the eddy would carry them upstream, hence they had frequently to row to the opposite side.

Sometimes they had to pull the boat around a point with ropes; the boatmen walking on the shore in single file. I have seen as many as ten or twelve men "lieghbouring" in this way; to cut it short don't you think it was a long hard road to travel? Every luxury we had came in this way. Our produce went with the current much easier but the walk back by land was hard and sometimes dangerous for they had to travel through the Indian territory and many unfortunate man lost his life and his hard earned money that he had obtained for his boat load of produce.

But we return to the river, and the only dangerous accident we had on the river. Sometimes boats were stove on snags and lost. One evening, I don't know whether we wanted to land but we were not far from the shore. I was on the top of the boat helping to row. The first we knew we struck a snag. The shock was awful. The boat stopped and the stern wheeled round down stream and remained stationary but we didn't know but that the boat was terribly damaged and would spring a leak and quickly sink. Now our canoe was used to some purpose. Sister Lucy with several small children came with us, hence there was a good many lives aboard, but all was soon paddled ashore, fortunately. We would have been in no danger if we had remained. Our boat was strong and had received no damage, as we afterward found out. A snag is a part of a tree firmly fixed in the bed of the river pointing downstream. The top end of this one was a little under the water but high enough for the boat to slide on the top sufficiently to hold it fast. Well, here we were detained for several days, camped on the bank of the river, for with all the inventions we could contrive, we could not get the boat off; but finally some men who followed the river for the purpose of helping those in distress and charging them "unconsivable" prices, came to our assistance, rigging some kind of extra power on the bank, attached a rope to the boat, and soon had her floating again as sound as and good as ever and carried us safely to our place of destination. I heard father say they charged an awful price besides swigging considerable of his mellow peach brandy.

We soon loaded up, all aboard, and moving again and had no accidents afterwards. We had a careful pilot, one that knew the river, but he wasn't to blame, no one could see the snag.

We passed Memphis,Vicksburg, Natchez and other places of less note and landed at Fort Adams, our place of destination on the River. Here we met sister Lucy's husband who came by land with wagons and teams and loose stock, his son, Daniel, and one of father's negro boys came with him.

Chapter 18

As I'm now about to enter into a new era of my life, and as I believe the big boys deserve a place between childhood and manhood, sometimes fathers would do well to take their boys for "counselors". I believe the Bible says there is wisdom in babes, I may not quote correctly but there is something like it; but the boys of this generation especially, soon conclude they know a good deal more than their fathers! A great many boys do have more book knowledge, but the fathers have had the school of experience and often a dear one to learn in! My advice to boys would be not to be in too great hurry to show their wisdom, in company of old people "ceep" your ears open and tongues still. Store all you think worth remembering. Wait, the time may come when your knowledge of books and experience of the old will enable you to show your knowledge when old and young will delight to listen to the apples of gold that will drop from your lips; never "twattle"! A word fitly spoken is better. I hope you will become learned, wise and prudent; if you do you can't "ceep" your light under a bushel, it will shine out and others will see it too.

As I have already delayed my boyhood trip, I will make one more digression and try to "ceep" to incidents that actually occurred. Some may say "old fogy", we of an advanced generation, but old fogy or no fogy, something tempts me to show my ignorance and I must out with it; and if you don't like the next page or two, clip it out.

I must go a long way back. I don't know whether father or mother either, ever thought themselves very handsome. If they did, I never heard them brag about it; nevertheless, I am inclined to think mother was once a "rosy", healthy, trim and sprightly industrious girl. I have no doubt but father thought she was comely to look at, for as sensible a man as father was would not mate to anything very ugly! Of course, I did not know mother when young, for I was born, we may say, in her old age, but mother, when I first knew her was trim and sprightly. She must have been a pretty figure, black eyes, black hair, a little above medium height but not enough to make her look masculine. She became sparse and thin in her old age, but continued to walk as straight as an arrow to the end of her long life.

I don't remember any of my brothers and sisters in their young days, but my youngest sister, Sarah, and brother, Joseph. I thought my sister was handsome but I was only a child and might have been mistaken. My brother was about six feet high, straight and square shouldered-he looked manly to me, and I thought he was good looking also. Sister, Rebecca, lived longer in the family than any of my brothers or sisters and I thought she wasn't bad looking either, if she did live to be an old maid! I know she had some beaus, one at least I distinctly remember, told me that he loved my sister dearly. I guess he thought little brother would run and tell sister. Sister, Rebecca, was an affectionate daughter; loved her old father and mother better than any of her beaus, and relieved them of many cares in their old age.

I don't think any of my sisters considered themselves great beauties, but I believe they were comely, sensible girls and all married and made, as far as I know, contented and prudent wives.

Who but a person of unrefined taste does not admire the beautiful of all God's creation. But a beautiful and lovely woman, possessed of a good, kind, womanly heart, good common sense to guide her with prudence is wonderfully favored by her Creator,worshiped by the males, loved and not envied by her sisters and stands a queen among her "sects". But oh, if she thinks her beauty will carry her happily through life, becomes a perfect "coquet", captivates to gratify her vanity, breaks hearts with impunity devoid of common sense with an unbridled tongue, a sharp thorn at the end, after fluttering awhile in her glory, she might and probably would eventually sink in misery, despair, want and often into disgrace and infamy.

It may be some ugly old maid that invented the saying, "Beauty is as beauty does and beauty is a fading flower." This puts me in mind of a rosebush I had growing in my yard once. We had all kinds of roses. Mother liked flowers when she was young, and I if not having a refined taste, always like to please mother; but the rose bush, when in full bloom, was a beauty; I believe the most beautiful I ever saw. The roses was white lightly tinged with red, they would make you think of the most beautiful girl when in her modesty she would blush just a little and tinge her lovely white cheeks; but I noticed that this beautiful rosebush soon faded; the flowers dropped to the ground much sooner than her sister red rose in the same yard and I noticed another thing; the bush had long and very sharp thorns. However, I believe all roses have some thorns but I noticed another thing; my rose had little fragrance while my red rose was delicious and when placed between the leaves of your Bible would perfume the whole book.

I recollect a few lines that I heard my private teacher, Mr. Knapp (I will have you in company with Mr. Knapp a good deal after a while) repeat, long long ago when I was a boy. I may not quote correctly but I believe I have the substance:

CHAPTER 19

Again I ask pardon for this long digression and load up the wagons for our inland progress, but my boy pleasures was soon blasted. There is a belt of country near the Mississippi River that was then called the "thick woods"; after we passed through it, we struck pine timber. I had never seen a pine; the only evergreen in Tennessee was "seder" and I always admired the "sedar" and expected to admire the pine as I have "lernt" it was an evergreen. But we hadn't been in the pines long before I was taken sick with the measles! So sick! The smell of the pine made me sicker!! I thought I never smelt anything more disgusting. This I remember distinctly, but after this, I remembered nothing more until I found myself at our place of destination. How long I lay oblivious to everything around me, I know not, but we must have had to camp out one or two "knights" and how much longer I lay in darkness I'm unable to say, but I finally recovered but here my boyhood anticipated pleasure ceased!

Father bought an improved tract of land, but nothing like the place we had left. He planted trees the first thing. We lived there long enough to see them "bear" fruit but no such fruit as our old orchard. Father had been very much affected as long as I can recollect with the "gravel", had suffered much. He passed the "gravel" from him at this place and was ever afterwards "well" of the complaint.

I believe Father's affliction was the reason my education had been very much neglected and which made my progress hereafter so unpleasant and hard. The first school I was sent to, I started in Murry's English Grammar. I had only been at school seven or eight months and a good many years had intervened. So you may guess I was a poor scholar. Well, after we had become settled, I don't remember how long, father sent me to an academy at Monticello (1819) one of the best institutions of learning at that time in the state. Monticello is situated on the bank of the Pearl River, a beautiful place and county seat, 25 miles from Father's.

The principal teacher of the school, Mr. Sharick King, was a very learned man; could speak seven learned languages fluently, but I'm not sure he was a good teacher. He was certainly a great book worm and still very ignorant in some things. I heard a good many things against him about farming. His father was rich but I will only tell how absent minded he was when he had a book in his hand. One day he was going to some place, had book in his hand reading, when he waked up from his book he was back at home, his horse had stopped at the gate; the horse had turned around and he had not noticed it. As I said, his father was rich and left him a good property but he made a poor farmer; his wife was more sensible or he would have soon come to poverty. His son Shadrick, married my daughter, Margaret, and was a chip off the same block.

Mr. King, I guess, thought there was nothing like the languages, started me in "Murry" when I ought to have started in the spelling book, reading, writing and arithmetic. I was put in a class with a boy about my age and size, named Radcliff, a son of some wealthy planter near the Mississippi River, who was much farther advanced than I was. Mr. King thought, no doubt, that as I was as big as Mr. Radcliff and ought to know as much. We were allowed to go out under the shade trees surrounding the school house- the house was out of town. We might go where we pleased but was required to come at regular stated times for our teacher to hear our lessons. My classmate was an idle boy but I had to spell out my lesson and worked like a Trojan; and at the end of the first three months, gained a prize of a book. It seemed that Radcliff could learn his lesson by reading it over. How I "cept" up with him and finally excelled is a mystery yet!

I went to this school about four or five months, when I was taken with the "Bilious" fever. How I reached home I don't know, for a fever always flies into my head and makes me delirious; but the fever finally turned into the "fever aneo ague" which lasted six or seven months and finally into jaundice, so you see how my boyhood days are passing. Mother used all the remedies she could hear of, I drank gallons of bitter teas; she had come from a healthy country and did not know much about medicine. But finally they applied to a doctor who gave me a dose of "calomel", worked off with castor oil, then Peruvian barks in good Madera wine. I forget the amount of the dose but I followed the doctor's prescription; I always do when I apply to a doctor. I don't believe I had another chill after the first day or two taking the wine and barks. I was cured of the chill and fever but was almost a wreck of what I might have been. I had always been stout and active, never had a day's sickness in Tennessee more than the bellyache. After this spell, I always felt feeble and tired soon. Some of the dregs has lasted through life, however, every move north improved my health.

After my health improved sufficiently, Father bought a light one horse wagon and sent me to school some three or four miles from home. Mr. Knapp, that I have mentioned, was the teacher. He had the consumption and wished to have a ride to and from school with me. The arrangement being satisfactory, this was a great advantage to me. I had to think before I spoke for he never neglected to correct me. would "ceep" up the conversation cheerfully, and if my language was grammatical, praised me. One day at noon some stranger stopped to inquire about someone in the neighborhood and the road, etc. It seems that I gave the directions required grammatically, for which my teacher highly complimented me and I felt proud.

After Mr. Knapp's engagement with this school expired, Father employed him to teach me privately and here I received, it seems to me, the only part of an education that ever did me much good; indeed it was my last school days. I now began to think I had advanced considerably from boyhood to manhood. Mother was proud of me at any rate. I don't think, indeed I know, Father did not think my school days was over as you will see presently. Mother did not like Mr. Knapp, she thought he was too "cratical" and severe in correcting every mistake of language or failure in my lessons, but somehow I took it all in good part and liked him with all his faults if he had any. He being sick was cross and no mistake.

I shall always remember my private schoolhouse in one corner of the yard where no little scholars to interrupt, everything quiet, nothing but the chirps of the little birds, and the mockingbirds that sang so sweetly (there are a great many birds at the South), nothing to disturb me from my studies. I believe if you won't consider it self praise, when I had anything to do, I attended to it with commendable diligence, but at any rate at this time, I became very much interested in my studies; I reviewed Murry, I could parse any sentence at that time, but grammar was a hard study and I don't believe I ever thoroughly understood it; but arithmetic, Shay's Bookkeeping, both by single and double entry, had a peculiar charm. I filled "quirs' of fools cap. I made a large book, sales book, journal, ledger, cash book, feeling all the time like I was a "holesale" merchant. I have always believed that if I had "lernt" a trade, that I would have made a good "michanick" and when I commenced "Gibson's Surveying", I was equally interested and delighted, I went through the whole work to the end, logarithm, sights, security and all, and drew all but the notes on another great demand for foolscap; this was a considerable book of itself. I first commenced with "Gunter's" scale but father sent to New Orleans and bought me a fine set of instruments that cost $15.00. You better believe I was proud of my work now I had tools! A carpenter can't work without tools. I took pains to draw all my maps neatly, ascertained the contents in acres both by measurement and calculation, drew a pencil sketch of a mountain, placed a foot on it, it being to dangerous to approach too close, could tell the distance correctly, but enough. It would be uninteresting and would tire you for me to carry you through all my fine pencil sketches measuring "inaccessible" objects both height and distance but my teacher praised me for my neatness and accuracy and that was enough for me. Boys loved to be praised. I believe this was the only very pleasant time of my boyhood! All through my school days I had neglected my spelling as you will discover if you ever read this sketch of my life.

Mr. Knapp, while teaching me, had employed his leisure time in compiling a shorter course of learning the English language and concluded he could improve Murry's system. He had finished his work and wished to have it published and left for that purpose. I have heard of Knapp's grammar but don't know whether it was our Knapp. This is the last I ever heard of him. I fear his life was short but I shall always remember him as laying the foundation of what little school education I had ever received.