USA > Illinois > Illinois in the fifties; or, A decade of development, 1851-1860 > Part 4
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One day late in 1851 a stranger got off the stage coach and looked about the village. He was well dressed, gen- tlemanly in manner and entertaining in conversation. Later it began to be noised about that he had money and thought of locating in the community. After a time both of these rumors proved to be true; for with ready money he purchased a farm that adjoined the village. `The only dwelling on this property was an old and long- :used log house, but the stranger, a Mr. Lane, made a good impression and every one had a good word for him and a kind wish for his good wife, daughter and three boys. It was not long till he showed himself to be a man of affairs. He was energetic, progressive and disposed to do things. He bought additional land and, in due time, put this in a high state of cultivation. Later he became proprietor of the busiest store in the com- munity, erected an up-to-date dwelling and moved into
sweeps clean", and this place he filled so well t seemed to have been made for it.
Every Sunday he went to church and sat w wife and children. This was an innovation, for, a where stated, the men sat on one side of the chur the women on the other. In every way Mr. seemed to be a model citizen and as such, a real sion to the community. By and by unpleasant began to be whispered-rumors that gave rise query : Could there be a rift in the lute? a fly ointment ? Mr. Lane was conceded by all to be energetic, busy man and it was known that he go to certain large cities to purchase goods; but been remarked that these visits seemed unnece frequent. Dame Rumor was so inconsiderate as sert that most of these trips to large cities were ma the purpose of getting out of sight and indulgin drunken spree. But in any event he always re towards the end of the week and on the following bath, in immaculate dress, he would be at church his family, and apparently no one followed the s closer than he. No one questioned the fact th Lane was a model husband and father and in his he regularly conducted family worship.
Some years later I reached young manhood,
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A Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde
soldier in the Union army,* and procured a furlough, at New Orleans took a steamboat to come up the river ; and upon entering the cabin the first man I saw was my old Sunday School superintendent, Mr. Lane, drunk! Yes, silly drunk. Thus had the mighty fallen! Thus was broken one of the idols of my childhood. When it first came out, I read with much interest Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde", and at once realized that our own Mr. Lane had lived this double life before the noted author was born. However, in that period our village afforded exceptional opportuni- ties for living this dual life. It was fifteen miles from the nearest railway, it had no telegraph and most of our villagers were disposed to attend to their own affairs.
As a medical man of considerable experience, I now know that Mr. Lane was what is known as a "periodic", who at certain times would be stricken with a desire for drink that had to be satisfied. At such times he would have a hired man hitch up the fastest horse to a buggy and drive him rapidly to, the railway station; arrived there he would board a train for St. Louis, where he could drink his fill. From there he would perhaps go to first one and another large city and remain till his debauch was ended. Then he would return to his hotel, wash, shave, take a bath, put on his best clothes and in due time return home, seemingly none the worse for his experience. Arrived home he would again take up the threads of every-day life and apparently throw renewed energy in his business.
The fifties had scarce reached their middle when the swaying stage coaches, the faithful stage horses, and the
*See Muskets and Medicine by the author.
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"Low Lies That House"
always interesting stage driver, were all ordered to a new stage line in Iowa! Why? Because in Illinois a newly built steam railway had paralleled the stage line and it could no longer be run with profit.
Not long ago I visited the location of the village stage stand, the spot that in my childhood was the "hub" of the community, and I was unable to find so much as a stone or brick of what contributed to the make-up of the tavern and stage stables. Indeed, all I saw was a soli- tary bush. I thought of the following lines from Gold- smith's "Deserted Village":
"Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high. 1 Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house .
Where gray-haired Mirth and smiling Toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound And news much older than their ale (?) went round; Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlor splendors of that festive place,-
The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that ticked behind the door; The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,
Within aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay."
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CHAPTER V.
A COUNTRY STORE IN THE FIFTIES.
Gum, gall and groceries; ginger and gin; Tar, tallow, tumeric, turpentine and tin. -Selected. But in the way of bargain, mark ye me I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. -Shakespeare.
James Hike was a leading and popular citizen of the village. He was agreeable, approachable, and by some of his friends familiarly called Jim, by others Hike. In consequence of James Hike's popularity, together with the additional fact that he was postmaster, his place of business became the popular resort of the vil- lage. In warm weather the porch that ran the whole length of his store front was a favorite gathering-place for the men and boys of the village. Two or three old wooden chairs, some empty boxes and two boards along the store-front, served as seats. Here in small knots, in warm bright days, and in larger number of warm rainy days, the villagers, and the villagers reinforced from the farms, gathered and discussed various topics, told stories and gossiped about their neighbors. The crops, the weather, present and prospective, the roads, the latest arrival in the village, the new circuit rider, letters from friends in California, were only some of the things talked about. Old, white-haired men, rich in ex- periences, down to bare-footed, tow-headed boys, who had eyes and ears for all that was to be seen and heard,
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Listening and Whittling
made up the gathering on Hike's porch. Almost every adult had either a pipe in his mouth or a knife in his hand, and some were supplied with both. The pipes seemed to have the quality of loosening tongues, and the knives fixed the attention and quickened the sense of hearing.
Possibly the two last-named effects were due to the fact that those who held the knives had their nerves steadied by cutting and whittling-cutting letters, names and rude figures of men or animals upon the boxes, boards or wooden chairs upon which they were seated. Others were just as intently whittling away upon pine sticks, pieces of box lids that they were trimming into various shapes, but generally into sharp points or rounded extremities. With the talkers it was puff, puff, with the listeners it was cut, cut, whittle, whittle.
There was one frequenter of Hike's porch who was greatly given to exaggeration. Indeed, extravagance in , the receipt of impressions and exaggeration in the state- ment of fact seemed to be constitutional with Jack Jaw- good, for such was the man's name. His ear drums must have been geared with multipliers and his retinae supplied with magnifiers. so sure was he to hear and see things in a much bigger way than common people. Jack Jawgood was garrulous and unless some more in- teresting talker was present, was sure to command lis- teners. Jawgood was tall, lean, lank, had big brown eyes and a hooked nose. He nearly always wore a hunt- ing shirt, brown jeans trousers that were generally too short, and an old black wool hat devoid of band and without shape in rim. In hot weather he often went barefooted and in winter wore brogan shoes and coarse, white, woolen socks the tops of which barely reached
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Jack Jawgood
the bottom of his trousers when he was standing. But when seated a considerable gap was left between trou- sers and socks, which exposed to view a hairy patch of shin. Jack was ever on the alert for the latest bit of neighborhood news. An accident of any kind, a run- away, a fight, a broken arm, a sudden fit of sickness or a moral lapse anywhere in the community was a newsy tidbit to the morbid makeup of Jack Jawgood. Stocked with one or more items of the kind, he straightway went to Hike's porch and, with no end of magnifying, pro- ceeded to recount what he had heard or seen. His ac- count was always interlarded with such expressions as "sure as I am alive he said" so and so; "I wish I may die if I didn't see". Jawgood seemed to snatch up bits of news much as a cow would blades of grass. Like the cow, too, later chewing her cud, he, at Hike's porch in his long drawn out narrations, chewed over and over his collected news items with much exaggeration and extreme satisfaction. The villagers all knew Jack Jawgood and his love of exaggerated narration. Hence he was not unfrequently greeted with such inquiries as : 'Hey, Jack! What do you know today?" Or, "Jack, what is your latest?" These questions were generally accompanied with a wink or knowing look at some by- stander. Jawgood had an imperturbable countenance, and if these inquiries ever disturbed him no one was the wiser. Indeed, it is more than probable they flattered him. Jack had no rival; in fact he monopolized the field. The village had no newspaper. But times have changed. The modern village newspaper has driven more than one Jack Jawgood out of business.
In cold weather the porch was deserted and the in- side of Hike's store, about its warm stove, became a fa-
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A Village "Club"
vorite gathering place. But the winter circle was smaller, more select and altogether less democratic than the hot- weather porch gathering. Old age and inexperienced youth were much less in evidence. Here of evenings gathered among others the two or three village pettifog- gers, the school teacher, the blacksmith, the shoemaker, one or more of the school directors and at times the circuit rider. The circle was eminently respectable and while there was no formal organization, yet it was to all intents and purposes a real village club, where were discussed the latest news, crops, business, prices, politics, etc. Each one in attendance found his wits sharpened, his hunger for social intercourse satisfied and often re- alized that his fund of general information had increased.
All the goods in Hike's store were hauled by wagon from St. Louis. forty miles to the west ; and in exchange for these the proprietor received all kinds of country produce, such as eggs, butter, lard, bacon, wool, hides and indeed almost any of the smaller farm products.
The money of that time fell under two general classes, namely "hard" and "paper". Hard money comprised all coins of gold, silver and copper. For the most part gold was coined into twenty, ten and five-dollar pieces, though occasionally a one-dollar gold coin was found in circulation ..
Silver was coined into pieces of one dollar, fifty cents, twenty-five cents, ten cents and five cents in value. Early in the fifties two or three other silver pieces were in circulation, picayune and "bits". A picayune had the value of six and one-fourth cents, and a bit twice that, or twelve and one-half cents. As a bit was just half the value of twenty-five cents, the latter coin was nearly
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"Wild Cat" Banks
always called two bits; likewise fifty cents was called four bits.
Copper then, as now, was coined into one-cent pieces, and occasionally two-cent coppers were seen. However, coppers were little used except in making change for postage stamps. Goods were never priced less than five cents. For illustration, when the merchant was marking his goods the last figure was always a 5 or an o; 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8 and 9 never appeared in such place. The result was cent-pieces were seldom needed in making change in the stores.
By far the greatest variety in the money of that time occurred in the paper circulation. The local banks ali issued paper money in amounts to suit themselves and the result was a great deal of it was of questionable value; then the bills were easily counterfeited. Many of the moneyed institutions were so unreliable that they were known as "wild-cat" banks. Banks of this char- acter were constantly failing and meantime the counter- feiter was busy striving to duplicate the issue of respon- sible firms. To keep business men in touch with all this, what was known as a "Counterfeit Detector" was issued regularly. This was a folder about the size of an old- fashioned Almanac and was expected to give the up- to-date status of every banking institution within a given locality. Every progressive business man was a sub- scriber to a "Counterfeit Detector" and when a customer presented a paper bill that he was not familiar with he at once referred to what was his oracle in currency matters. Sometimes the customer was told his bill was counterfeit and of course worthless; at other times he would be informed that the bank which had issued an- other bill had failed but was paying a certain amount
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Everything in Stock
on the dollar and this amount would be allowed the customer. What the merchant said "always went", as the slang has it, and the customer always abided by his decision.
In addition to keeping a general store, James Hike, as before noted, was the village postmaster and faith- fully changed the mail when the stage coach came in. In the late forties and early fifties envelopes had not yet come in use and consequently the sheet of foolscap upon which the letter was written was folded, addressed and sealed with sealing wax, a stick of which was always kept at hand for this purpose. At this period letters were always dropped in the postoffice and sent to the one addressed who paid the postage due, and this was never less than five cents, and from that on up, in proportion to distance. From what has been said it will be seen that postage stamps had not yet come in use. Postage stamps, much as we have them today, came in use in the mid-fifties, however.
"James Hike-Dry Goods" stood for a general store in which was on sale everything from a darning needle up to a barrel of flour. Upon shelves at one side of the store were dress goods, woolens, shirting, drilling, bon- nets and other articles of millinery. On shelves at the other side were hats, caps, boots, shoes, underwear, and other things similar. Upon tables in the middle of the room were overcoats, overalls, coats, trousers, and other articles of men's apparel. At the back of the store was a counter whereon everything in the line of groceries was weighed out. So full was the store that wherever on counter, shelf or even floor, a bit of space could be found it was occupied by such articles as tubs, buckets,
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Whisky and Molasses
tinware, saddles, harness, chains, rope, spades, forks and a miscellany of other things.
In the shed-room adjoining, plows, harrows, ox-yokes, barrels of flour, salt, molasses and, as before named, whisky were on sale. Alongside of the molasses barrel was the whisky barrel. Both were drawn from alike and as little was thought of filling the whisky jug as of filling the molasses jug. Such a thing as selling beer and ยท whisky over the counter by the drink was unheard of. Respectable people had whisky in their houses, for the most part for medicinal purposes solely. Of course others took advantage of its free and open sale to get it for a beverage. But for whatsoever purpose whisky was bought, its open sale was in no sense regarded as a re- flection on the proprietor of the store, James Hike. In- deed, Hike's store was the pride of the village and every resident believed every man's needs could be satisfied there.
One such resident was Joe Dobbins, a cattle buyer and horse trader. Coming in from a trading tour one day on the stage coach, Dobbins found himself in com- pany with an acquaintance, Pete Stover, who, like him- self, was a stock dealer. Stover lived in another county and in the course of the conversation Hike's store came up for consideration. "Tell what 'tis, Pete, Jim Hike keeps mighty nigh ev-ry thing in his store."
"Mighty nigh ev'ry thing's sayin' a good deal; guess you don't mean it all, Joe."
"I don't hey? You cain't name nuthin Jim Hike hain't got!" said the bantering Joe Dobbins.
"Cain't I, though? How about balloons? Course I mean big balloons that'll take a feller up and tote him off."
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A Wager
"Now, Pete Stover, s'pose you tote fair and name somethin' a man in my county and your'n 's like to need."
"You mean what a common farmin' kind of a feller'd need 'bout his house and place, Joe?"
"Now you're gittin' round, Pete, kaze that's jist what I mean."
"Tell you what I'll do, Joe; I'll name somethin' that jist the commonest kind of a feller might ask for and I'll go you a ten-dollar 'shiner' your man what's-his-name haint got it."
"Nuff said! Here's my money, where's your'n," was the prompt reply of Joe Dobbins as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar gold piece that he held up in plain view.
"O I'll match you. Who'll hold the stakes?" Just as promptly answered Pete Stover, likewise pulling a ten- dollar gold piece from his pocket, and adding: "Why, Bill Hicks that's drivin' this gocart. Say Bill, me 'n Pete here's made a bet ; you're to hold stakes. I got ten dollars 'at says Pete cain't ask Jim Hike fur nuthin' a common feller 'd want that Jim haint got in his store. And Pete's got a yallar boy 'at's tryin' to say Pete kin. Them's the terms. But the conditions is : If Hike's clean empty and caint come down with what Pete wants then Pete gits my ten. But if Jim's loaded and trots out what Pete calls fur then I git all 'at's in your hands."
In due time the village was reached, and the three men, most interested, went to Hike's store, and just before crossing its threshold Joe Dobbins took occasion to say to Pete Stover: "Name your article !"
"Goose-yokes," promptly answered Pete.
Joe's countenance fell, and is it any wonder ? What
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Goose-Yokes
merchant would have goose-yokes in stock? But resolv- ing to make the most of what seemed a desperate situa- tion, Joe Dobbins put on a bold front and entering the store with his two companions called out in as firm a voice as he could command :
"Say, Jim, got any goose-yokes?"
The merchant thought a minute and answered, "Yes, I believe I have; in fact, come to think, I know there's some in the loft. How many do you want ?"
Joe Dobbins's face brightened up under a broad smile as he said :
"Shaw, Jim! You haint got no goose-yokes, nuther!"
"Yes, I have got goose-yokes," said the merchant, "and now I mind how I come by them. Jake Bunch, up in the Forks, had a lot of geese that kept crawling through his neighbor's fences and pestering them shamefully. Now Jake's wife wanted to keep the geese, but Jake didn't like to harm anybody. Somewhere he heard of goose- yokes and one day came in and asked me to get him a lot. So I sent for them. They were a long time getting here, but at last they came. One day after they'd come Jake Bunch was in and I told him his goose-yokes were here. 'I'm sorry,' said Jake, 'cause the geese are all dead with poisen that we think somebody must have fed them on, but we are saying nothing. Of course I don't need the goose-yokes, but I'll pay you for them.' Bunch was a good customer and so I kept the goose-yokes and let him keep his money, and here's my chance to sell that lot of goose-yokes and yours to get them, but I did not know you kept geese, Joe."
"I don't and, comin' to the pint, I don't want your goose-yokes, Jim. I jist wanted to know that yu'd got
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Easily Won
'um. Fact is, I got ten dollars dependin' on your havin' 'um. Haint I, Bill Hicks?"
"Guess you're right," said the stage-driver, "and if your friend don't put up any objections I'll jist hand you over the stakes."
As by this time the clerk appeared with an armfull of goose-yokes, Pete Stover was in no position to make any objection to what the stakeholder had said. So the money was put in the hands of the exultant Dobbins, and meantime Hicks and Stover passed out of the store door. They were hardly out of sight when Dobbins related to the storekeeper all the details of the wager, closing with the words:
"Tell you what 'tis, Jim; no durned furriner's goin' to run down Jim Hike's store while I'm round and long's I got a dollar in my pocket what kin talk."
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CHAPTER VI. CHURCHES, CHURCH PEOPLE AND PREACHERS IN THE FIFTIES. 1
And fools came to scoff and remained to pray. -Goldsmith. Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name. -Pope.
At this period there were comparatively few church buildings really worthy of the name. True there was here and there a "meeting-house", a barn-like struc- ture, with architectural arrangements as unattractive as too often were the doctrines expounded from its pul- pit. Many rural communities, however, did not even have these uninviting places of worship and, under these circumstances, the always hospitable school-house opened its doors. Here it may be proper to say that most of the religious people of that era were affiliated with the Methodists-a denomination that always did, and always would, hold meetings somewhere. If a church was not available, then a schoolhouse would be utilized, provided one could be had. In the event this, for any reason, was impracticable, the preacher would hold his meeting in a private house, or if this was too small, in a grove, and in case it rained, a barn would be utilized. Someway, somehow, somewhere, the zeal- ous circuit rider of two generations ago managed to carry the gospel of the Lowly Nazarene to practically
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An Up-To-Date Church in the Mid-Fifties. M. E. Church erected in Pocahontas, Ill., in 1854. (Courtesy of Dr. D. R. Wilkins, Pocahontas)
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An Up-to-Date Church
all the people. Attendance upon religious serviees was always referred to as going to "meeting", instead of going to church.
About the middle of the fifties, the good people of my village very wisely decided that they had been long enough without a suitable place of worship. Accord- ingly, in a very practical spirit, they put their hands in their pockets and took out the price of what, in that day, was an up-to-date church. Every stiek of lumber in this was white-pine, a building material that the re- cently-constructed steam railways had made available. This lumber was hauled by wagon from a station on the Ohio and Mississippi Railway (now the B. and O.) fifteen miles from our village. When this church of white-pine was finished and given two coats of immaeu- late white paint, it straightway became the pride of the village, and although universally regarded as up- to-date in every particular, its arrangement was simple in the extreme. In front was a platform of boards from which two doors opened into the church. Through the south door passed the men, who took seats in the two south rows of pews. Through the north door the women had access to two rows of seats on the north side of the church. In the farther end was an en- closed, white-pine pulpit, approached on either side by a short flight of steps. At the right and left of the pulpit, and parallel with it, were several rows of pews which the ungodly had profanely named the "amen- seats". This name had undoubtedly originated in the fact that the more faithful among the members always found seats in these pews and when the minister made some striking point they were in the habit of "speakin' out in meetin' " and in no uncertain tones saying,
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An Expectorating Preacher
"Amen, Amen!" In the sides of the building were the usual rows of high, narrow windows. In the front end and between the doors was a large box stove with a pipe that ran to the ceiling, where it turned and fol- lowed this to the farther end of the building, and there, immediately over the pulpit, it entered a chimney in the wall.
The church was lighted by candles placed in holders along the walls and in rude chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
Not very long after this church was built a preacher of mature years was sent to the congregation who was in the habit of using tobacco and expectorating rather promiscuously. In this particular he did not even re- spect the sacred precincts of his pulpit. Things went on in this way for a time, till finally some of the young men and women of the church decided to have a gen- eral cleaning-up. Accordingly one fine day broom, dust- rag and scrubbing brush were applied thoroughly and vigorously. No corner, no crevice in the building, or in the pulpit, was neglected. When all was finished a small, strong box was filled with clean sand and at- tached to one of its sides was a placard bearing in large letters the words "Spit Here".
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