USA > Indiana > Boone County > History of Boone County, Indiana : With biographical sketches of representative citizens and genealogical records of old families, Volume I > Part 14
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Doctor Boyd, the family physician, held a feast at his home over one of the unfortunates, and Cad, yes the boy Cad was the hero of the whole bunch for he was the Columbus who discovered a pen full of the American Thanks- giving birds, and got his full share of the feast.
DANIEL BOONE.
As our county is named in honor of Daniel Boone, the frontiersman and Indian fighter of Kentucky, we deem it proper to print a story about his beautiful daughter, Betty.
BETTY BOONE, OF KENTUCKY.
Betty was in a great hurry. She flitted about the little room like a busy honey bee. When at last it was in shining order the little girl smiled.
"Now I can go to the woods," she cried, "in search of the pink flowers. that Isaac Smith found yesterday." She clapped her slim brown hands glee- fully and scampered out of the low door.
"Betty, child, where are you going?" cried the neighbor in the next cabin.
Betty courtesied politely. "Just for a little walk, Mistress Bliss. My mother is at Mrs. Aaron White's, caring for her sick baby and my work is. all done."
Mrs. Bliss shook her head. "I am sure your mother would tell you to keep away from the woods. What if a wild cat should put his sharp claws in you, or worse still, what if the savages should carry you off to Canada ?"
Betty tossed her brown curls a little. "Indeed, I am not afraid of wild cats," she said grandly, "and it would be brave Indian who would dare to. lay his hands on a daughter of Daniel Boone."
"I wish your mother were here, said Mrs. Bliss.
Betty courtesied again and hurried on, half afraid that Mrs. Bliss would stop her. The woods were very cool. Squirrels and birds were everywhere. As the little girl climbed a knoll covered with brown pine needles, she cried out in delight, for there was the pink moccasin flower she was seeking.
She pressed her moist red lips to the flower. "You darling!" she
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breathed. A little further on she came to a place where a crowd of the lovely flowers bloomed together. Down on her knees went the little maid to pick the treasures.
The twigs crackled behind her. She turned and found herself facing an enormous Indian. The child stared fearlessly into his black, beady eyes.
"What do you want?" .she demanded. "Have you come to see my father, Daniel Boone?"
The savage still looked at her without speaking. Betty tossed her curls and went on picking flowers. She really was badly frightened, but she knew better than to let the Indian see it.
Another minute passed. Suddenly he bent over and seized her by the wrists. "Little squaw, come with me," he grunted.
"Daniel Boone will kill you if you touch me," Betty said sternly.
"Ugh," mumbled the Indian, still pulling her along. Somewhat to his surprise, Betty suddenly yielded and came along obediently. "Good squaw," said the Indian, and let the child have her left wrist free. Very deftly she broke off a twig here or bent down a bush tree. "No, no," said the Indian by and by, as she pulled off a long spray of rhododendron leaves. "No, no," he repeated, fingering his tomahawk.
Betty did not dare to break any more twigs, but she contrived to tear her blue apron on a thorn bush. Then here and there she let fall a shred of blue calico. It seemed to poor little Betty that she had been walking for miles and miles when her captor suddenly brought her into an Indian encamp- ment.
It was a very noisy place. Dogs barked, children shouted, and women chattered. Betty was thrust into a dirty wigwam. She lay there tired and exhausted, fearing that in the evening she would be carried away as Catherine Hatch had been. Then she remembered her father. "Father will find me," she whispered to herself, and flinging herself down upon a pile of skins fell fast asleep.
When Mrs. Boone came home from Mrs. Aaron White's and found her little daughter was gone, she was very much frightened. Worst of all, Daniel Boone himself was away upon an exploring expedition.
She walked up and down the kitchen floor. All at once the door opened and Daniel Boone walked in.
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"I felt that I was needed at home," he said, "and I came back to see if anything was wrong."
"Betty is gone," sobbed her mother. "Mistress Bliss says that she went for a walk several hours ago."
Daniel Boone kissed his wife without speaking and strode out of the cabin. Five minutes later he, with two other stern faced men, entered the forest.
Isaac Smith had a bright thought. "I gave the little maid a flower yes- terday. Methinks she has gone in search of others."
"Show us where they grow," commanded her father. Together the men climbed the little knoll. There were Betty's treasures strewn upon the ground.
Daniel Boone's gray eyes flashed. "She is in the hands of the Indians. Every minute counts."
Isaac Smith's eyes spied a broken twig.
"They went this way," he declared. "See, the little lass has marked the trail they were taking."
The men quickly made their way over the ground. Then the trail stop- ped, but a rod or two further Daniel Boone discovered the little blue shreds of calico apron and at last they came to the Indian village.
Boone walked boldly in. The old chief came to meet him. He was very much afraid of Boone, so he pretended to be very glad to see him.
Boone looked straight ahead. "I have come for my little maid," he said coldly.
The chief shook his head. "I have not seen your papoose," he said blandly.
Then Isaac Smith walked over to a wigwam and threw back the open- ing of skins. "Come, Betty," he said calmly.
Betty opened her eyes and sat up. This time she heard her father's voice as well as Isaac's. She came flying out of the wigwam and threw herself into her father's arms.
"O, father,' she sobbed, "I knew you would come and get me."
So Daniel Boone and his little maid, with Isaac Smith and the other brave scout, walked out of the camp of angry Indians.
"You are a clever little lass to mark your trail," said her father ap- provingly.
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Betty smiled for the first time since the big Indian captured her.
"The next time that I want to go after flowers I shall ask either you or Isaac to go with me," she said with a toss of her curls.
And to this day in Kentucky they tell the tale of nimble-witted Betty Boone, of Boonesville.
CHAPTER VIII.
MILITARY HISTORY OF COUNTY.
CAUSES LEADING TO THE CIVIL WAR.
God sifted three nations and obtained seed to plant a new nation. It was brought across the sea and planted on Plymouth Rock. It was a cold, bleak rock in New England, barren and uninviting. The men and women that planted this seed in the new world were brave and abounded in virtue and integrity of character. The live principle and soul of the seed was civil and religious liberty. This was to be the spirit of the new nation that was to spring from this seed and make the basis of a new and higher civilization.
At Jamestown, another seed was planted entirely different in spirit and purpose. It had in it the spirit of slavery. It believed that some men were made to serve. Out of this came the "First Families of Virginia." The kid- glove aristocracy that set up a distinction in men as to rights, drew the color line and established the institution of slavery. It was antagonistic to the spirit of Plymouth Rock and an antithesis to their idea of liberty and their conception of the rights of man. It submitted to the declaration, "that all men are equal and ought to be free and independent as far as King George was concerned," and at the same time held the mental reservation that the doctrine did not apply to the sons of Africa. The two ideas grew and spread westward; that of Jamestown bearing a little toward the north and that of Plymouth bearing toward the south. In the federation of states and in the Union, every state held to the teaching and practice of Jamestown, except Georgia, and she leaned that way and finally fell into line and became a slave state. The battle for liberty must be fought over again.
There was a declaration for liberty, but in spite of this, there was the spirit and practice of the worst form of slavery. As these two ideas moved .
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westward, coming closer and closer together, the discussion grew hotter and hot blood ran, and when the sentiment crossed the Mississippi river, Clay had to come to the front and effect a compromise between the two factions. Mason and Dixon line was drawn and there was apparent peace effected for awhile, until new provocations arose. When the two lines met in Kansas, the fight was on in earnest. The Mason and Dixon's line would not keep them apart. The Missouri Compromise was no longer effective. The spirit of Jamestown saw that the spirit of Plymouth Rock was triumphing.
Fremont stood on a platform that said, "No more slave states." There was such a mustering of votes that the south division became alarmed for their pet institution of slavery. The sentiment of the north was prevailing. Kansas became the testing field, both parties contending as for life itself. Stephen A. Douglas became the leader of those who said, "we will leave the vexed question to the people." Lincoln stood head and shoulders above Douglas for no more slave states. The die was cast. The battle of debate was on. The slave element rushed into Kansas with hopes of settling the issue of that soil by the will of the people. The people of the north rushed into the territory, and two constitutions were formed, one for freedom and one for slavery ; so it was a drawn battle.
John Brown was one of the most erratic for freedom. He fought for it with all his might and his soul. He conceived the idea of moving the battlefield to the Old Dominion where the seed was first planted. He chose to start the fight at Harper's Ferry. He felt confident that the people would rally to the cause and he would be triumphant. He opened the battle; there was no rally around his standard and it failed. Governor Wise, of Virginia, arrested the crazy, or at least erratic leader, and hung him until he was dead, thinking that would end the contest forever. John Brown's body was laid dishonored in the tomb, but his spirit for freedom marched on.
The election of Lincoln, in 1860, broke the Dynasty. It had reigned for sixty years. He was the first president that opposed the demands of the slave power.
He was not an abolitionist of the school of Garrison and Phillips, but he stood opposed to slavery going into the territories. This meant no more slave states; restriction of the institution; the overthrow of its political power. In a word, it meant that freedom and the North would rule. This was enough. It classed Lincoln as the rankest of Abolitionists. The cam-
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paign was urged on that hypothesis-full of mottoes, transparencies and bit- ter invectives along this line.
Its success was more than the South could endure. Rank rebellion rose. The nullifying egg of 1832 hatched out a brood of secession. South Carolina led the van, quickly followed by other states. The war cloud arose in the South. Preparations for battle were made. The government was im- potent.
Buchanan wrung his hands in agony as he beheld it falling to pieces, and said he could do nothing to avert the ruin. He lacked the nerve of Jackson. Under this cloud the president elect made his way to the capitol clandestinely. He was quietly inaugurated and assumed the responsibility over a government dismembered, armyless; fleet scattered to all parts of the globe and our forts and arsenals falling into the hands of the enemy ; with traitors in all departments and armed foes gathering in mad fury and march- ing towards Washington. Worse than all this, there were divisions, bicker- ings and back-bitings all around him and throughout the North. This is a dark picture, replete with imminent peril and full of fearful forebodings. It was enough to crush the hope out of any ordinary spirit.
Lincoln rose to the emergency. The cloud burst upon Fort Sumter. At break of day April 12, 1861, the first gun was fired. Its reverberation sweeps the North, dissipates the clouds of uncertain action, sets in tune the patriotic chord, obliterates party divisions and armies rise as if by magic, to resent the insult to the flag and maintain the union.
The battle is on. The giants Freedom and Slavery have grappled in a struggle to death. The tragedy of the centuries is on the stage, with two million men in the field. The storm has been gathering from the beginning of our government. Our declaration must be made good. Our fathers meant what they said. They built the best they could, but there was one bad stone put in the foundation that must come out. The man at the helm said the government could not stand half free and half slave. This meant volumes.
In the midst of the struggle, when all was dark, when no opening was visible, the voice of public nerve said, Go forward! There the Red sea stretched its waves, as to the Israelites fleeing from the bondage of Egypt. The modern Moses stood the test. On the 21st of September, 1862, he issued his manifesto, with one hundred days' grace. It passed. Pharaoh remained
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virulent and defiant. On the Ist day of January, 1863, the Emancipation Proclamation was signed that set at liberty four million slaves. This great document was afterward sealed by the blood of the signer, mingled with the blood of almost every household and freedom, blessed freedom, real freedom, triumphed all over Christendom. The stain on our Declaration, the rotten stone in the building, are both removed, all men are free, as far as the law of the land is concerned.
This wonderful act marks the climax in our political history to this date. It is the great submerged vital, moral question that has pressed to the front for settlement. All other questions and issues have been mere make beliefs and sidetracks to delude the people and lead the party into power. It has reared its head oft before, but was smoothed down by compromises.
In the work over two generations have lived and died. Political party after party has risen and fallen, afraid to grapple the issue. It was left for the Republican party, alias Free Soil party, alias Liberty party-born in 1840, whose life and soul was the cause of the oppressed-to assume and consum- mate this great work. The giant and his furious minions go down. All humane thumbs point downward. The great moral principle, the magnetic center of our institutions, is focalized in this one grand, glorious battle- freedom to all men. The principle must be crystalized into law true and certain. Victory came: the price was paid, blood for blood and dollar for dollar, to equipoise what has been drawn from the veins of the slave and the earnings of his toil for over two centuries.
Such had been the potency of the slave power thus far, that it not only dictated to political parties, but it subjugated the press, silenced the pulpit and split the church. In the slave states it was preached as a divine institu- tion; while in the free states, it was of the devil. Theologians from the same school, teaching the same Bible and praying to the same God, yet, how distorted and twisted its application was to slavery in different latitudes and environments! The cravings for bread, or the love of gold, or public senti- ment, or the wholesome fear of the rail or tar, or whip or rope, had a won- derful effect upon doctrine and application of gospel truth in the minds of the ministry upon this branch of sociology.
There were different schools of thinkers in the North against the institu- tion. Some thought it could be removed by education and moral suasion; others thought it could be done by insurrection among the slaves, and still
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others by political action through the ballot. The first idea developed senti- ment in the east, and became incendiary in the south. The second idea collapsed at Harper's Ferry, while the spirit of its fallen hero nerved the armies in the battle. The third idea elected Lincoln, brought on the war, freed the slave and wiped the institution of slavery from the face of the earth.
THE WAR CLOUD.
As soon as Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States, the South began to prepare for war in earnest. The war was inevitable. The first shot was fired on Fort Sumter, April 12, 1861, and the first call for volunteers was issued April 15th, for seventy-five thousand men for three months. It was not long until the government began to realize the magni- tude of the struggle, and issued another call for three hundred thousand men for three years or during the war. Thus call after call was issued. As the war progressed it grew in magnitude until its fury surpassed the wildest expectations of all men. In 1864 calls were issued for over one million men. To all these calls of over two and a half million men, Boone county responded most royally. She stood to the colors in response to the calls, in bravery on the field of battle and in endurance in the march. She was in her place during the entire struggle for the preservation of the nation. She had representative sons on every battlefield and her honor and her loyalty were maintained on throughout the struggle. There were men in the county whose sympathy and loyalty were on the other side of the issue. We can not give a true history of the county without mentioning the fact, that there was enough of this southern sentiment in the county to form an organization. The Knights of the Golden Circle had its adherents in Boone county. They organized ; how many there were enlisted, there was no record came to light. They met and drilled in Harrison township to a considerable extent. There was also some drilling in Jackson township north of Jamestown. There, fortunes went down with the lost cause and no record is in existence and all will be glad to forget and forgive the grave error.
Notwithstanding this cloud in our war history there is an abundant rec- ord to prove the loyalty of our fathers, and the scars that they bear and the hardships that they bore, prove beyond doubt their loyalty and bravery.
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The long list of braves that we here record prove the record. Doubtless there are other sons of Boone county that enlisted from other sections of the country. There are many veterans among us to this day whose names may not be seen in the record, because they enlisted from some other section of the country. Our records may be very imperfect, but there is a record in which there are no errors and each will receive his merited reward at the great reckoning. We can not become personal in this record or mention the personal bravery of any, but we take pride in the record made for the county, and treasure it up as the true wealth of the history of the county.
Our men and women have been true and brave in the wilderness, in their toil and sacrifice in developing this county and giving to her loyalty and honor. They were true in all the civil duties of life and they were also true and brave in time of war and danger and stood royally to their guns. It is an evidence of our stalwartness for it takes the truest of men to stand in their place in all the walks of life. We would like to mention here that our men are still true to the best interests of the county and the happiness of her people. In the late critical trial of manhood they have stood the test and banished the greatest foe of the human family. It takes as much bravery to fire a civil ballot for the good of mankind as it takes to fire a bullet. All honor to the men of Boone that banished the legal right of King Alcohol to kill and blotch our citizens. We can say now that no man in this county has the legal right to make drunkards of our sons. We are proud of the record of our forefathers in the wilderness; of our fathers in the civil struggle for the preservation of our liberties; and of the bravery and con- sistency of our brothers in their successful fight against the legalized evil of our day. Through these battles there has come to our county a rich heritage that money can not buy. It will be handed down to our posterity to bless future generations, and they will rise up and bless their ancestry for their good deeds.
MEMORIAL DAY-THE EVER LIVING DEAD.
Every year, in the full tide of spring, at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life, there comes a solemn pause, and through the silence the nation hears the lonely pipe of death.
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Year after year lovers wandering under the apple boughs and through the clover are surprised with sudden tears as they see black-veiled figures stealing through the morning to a soldier's grave.
Year after year the comrades of the dead follow, with public honor, procession and commemorative flags and funeral march-tribute from us who have inherited a nation's glory to the heroes who gave it.
As surely as this day comes round we are in the presence of the dead. But not all the associations of this day are sad; some of them are triumphant, even joyful.
We seem to hear the funeral march become a pean. Our heroic dead still live for us, and bid us think of life, not death-of life to which in their youth they lent the passion and glory of the spring.
Memorial day may and ought to have a meaning beyond mere honor to the dead. It celebrates and solemnly reaffirms from year to year a national act of enthusiasm and faith. It embodies in the most impressive form our belief that to act with enthusiasm and faith is the condition of acting greatly. To fight out a war men must believe something and want something with all their might. So must they do to carry out anything else to an end worth reaching.
Race calls for its patriotic devotion, no less than war. And, stripped of the direct associations which gave rise to it, this is a day when by common consent we pause to become conscious of our national honor and to rejoice in it, to recall what our country has done and is doing for us, and to ask ourselves what we can do for our country in return.
The great French soldier, de Latour d'Auvergne, was the hero of many battles, but remained by his own choice in the ranks. Napoleon gave him a sword and the official title "The First Grenadier of France." When he was killed, the emperor ordered that his heart should be entrusted to his regiment -that his name should be called at every roll call and that his next comrade should answer, "Dead upon the field of honor!" In the keeping of this nation are the hearts of many heroes; we treasure them in consecrated ground, and when their names are called we answer in flowers, "Dead upon the field of honor."
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THE NATIONAL CEMETERIES.
The nation's dead soldiers are buried in seventy-three cemeteries, as well as in local cemeteries with their kindred. Only twelve of the national cemeteries are in the northern states, the principal of which are Cypress Hill, Finn's Point, New Jersey; Gettysburg, Pennsylvania; Mound City, Illinois; Woodlawn, Elmira, New York, which contain the larger numbers. It is im- possible to give the number in each cemetery, as the old soldiers are and have been falling away rapidly, and a very great many of them are being added to the graves of their comrades.
The largest resting places of the known and unknown dead soldiers are Arlington, Virginia; Chalmette, Louisiana; Chattanooga, Tennessee; Fred- ricksburg, Virginia; Jefferson Barracks, Missouri; Little Rock, Arkansas; City Point, Virginia; Marietta, Georgia; Memphis, Tennessee; Nashville, Tennessee; Poplar Grove and Richmond, Virginia; Salisbury, North Caro- lina; Stone River, Tennessee; Vicksburg, Mississippi; Antietam, Maryland; Winchester, Virginia. Two cemeteries are devoted to the thousands of bodies of the heroes who passed away in the prison pens of Andersonville, Georgia, and Salisbury, North Carolina. A great many bodies buried in the various national cemeteries are those of the unknown dead. Scattered about the country are cemeteries largely filled by soldiers who passed away after years of citizenship; but nearly every local cemetery contains the body of some one or more of the men who took part in the Civil war, and who pre- ferred to lie among their kindred in local cemeteries.
MILITARY HISTORY.
In 1861, when there was a call for troops, Boone county responded promptly with as brave a set of soldiers as ever shouldered muskets. The first company organized in the county was Company I, Tenth Regiment, for three months' service. The commissioned officers were: Captain William C. Kise; first lieutenant, J. W. Perkins; second lieutenant, R. C. Kise.
Company F, Fortieth Regiment was organized October 7, 1861, and mustered out at Texana, Texas, January 23, 1866, after enduring many hardships and engaging in many well fought battles. Their record was a
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brilliant one and the survivors look back upon it with pride. The officers were: Captain, Elias Neff; first lieutenant, John H. Dooley; second lieu- tenant, James Bragg.
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