USA > Pennsylvania > Jefferson County > History of Jefferson county, Pennsylvania, with illustrations and biographical sketches of some of its prominent men and pioneers > Part 5
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HISTORY OF JEFFERSON COUNTY.
Luce built a saw-mill on Bennett's Branch, two or three miles above Trout Run. They expected to soon get rich by lumbering. To keep his courage up Mr. Gelatt would sing what he called the "Song of the Mill," "Go penny, come pound." But as the years went on, the cost and difficulty in getting their lumber to market, and the small prices realized for it, brought loss and discouragement-when financial ruin seemed to stare him in the face, the cheerful tenor of the song changed, and the mill sang instead, " Go pound, come penny."
In 1826 the Fourth of July was celebrated at Mr. Gelatt's, the first record we have of such a celebration in the county. "Spread-eagle speeches were made; toasts given, and the day passed in mirth and hilarity." It was some time afterwards-for there were no mail facilities, nor telegraphs in this whole region of country in those days-before it became known that both Adams and Jefferson had died on that day.
Joshua Vandevort settled in 1825 where " Bootjack" (Mayville) now is. He was the pioneer of Warsaw township. In 1824 John McIntosh and Alexander Osborn and Henry Keys settled in the Beechwoods, and in 1826 Andrew Smith, William Cooper, and John Wilson also settled there. Several other families came the same year. It was late in the fall of this year that Mr. Cooper found the Wilson family, one morning, in the woods. They had lost their way the night before, and had to lie out in the cold all night. Mrs. Cooper made them a pot of hasty pudding, and after they had their breakfast, put them to bed, for they were all nearly frozen. One of the daughters, after- ward Mrs. Henry Keys, was so badly frozen that Mr. Cooper had to carry her to his house on his back.
The old settlers and pioneers of the county will be treated more at length in the history of the townships, in which they severally located. The grave has closed over much that would have been of great interest and value in the preparation of this work. Nearly all of the older citizens have passed off the stage forever, and in many cases their descendants have preserved but little record of them or their doings.
That these first days of our county's history were days of hardship, priva- tion, and ofttimes of suffering, none can doubt. Here and there in the vast wil- derness the smoke curled up from some lone cabin, while in the recesses of those woods lurked the bear, the wolf, and the panther, and the deadly rattle- snake crept sometimes to the very threshold. Rude and rough these cabins were, built of logs, and at best containing but two rooms, with, may be, a "loft"; with clapboard roof, puncheon doors and floor, and with greased paper to serve for windows until such time as glass could be brought from the " settlements." Only such articles as could be brought on horseback over the rough trails or paths were at first brought into this wilderness-a little bedding, clothing, and the necessary cooking utensils, with a few articles of table wear.
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EARLY SETTLERS.
Rude furniture was manufactured, in most cases. Tables and bedsteads were made of boards, and chairs were "splint-bottom." In the next decade, when the travelers came in wagons drawn by sturdy oxen or horses, more comforts could be transported. Huge chimneys made of mortar and sticks were placed at one end of the cabin, and the cooking was done by suspending a " crane " over the fire upon which the kettle and pots were "hung to boil." Wood was plenty and close at hand, and though natural gas, kerosene, and even matches were unknown, and candles luxuries often unobtainable, the dead and decay- ing "pitch pine trees " had left the ground strewn with hard, resinous pine knots, which, when split into pieces, produced a far better and cheaper light than a dozen candles. But the inhabitants of these lowly dwellings were not those who after once " putting their hand to the plow would look back "; they were of a race to persevere and win, and win they did. Mostly young couples, just beginning life, they had left the old home in the older settlements to make a home for themselves, and had selected this wilderness where land was cheap. Their hearts were happy, and their purposes honest and upright, and their very surroundings were all ennobling. They could not help but take into their very souls the grandeur and beauty of their forest home. The tall pines that raised their heads heavenward, the high hills that loomed upward and shut them in, seemed to bring them closer to the Infinite Ruler, who protected them amid all their perils. The winds sang anthems of praise, the pretty song- sters that flitted from branch to branch warbled joyously all the day, while the beautiful wild flowers in summer bloomed at their very doors ; and who will say that they were not made better men and women from this close commun- ing with nature in all its grandeur and beauty ?
Soon other settlers commenced to come in, and here and there could be seen the smoke arising from a new home in the wilderness, and how the first settlers rejoiced when they began to have neighbors! It is true, the distance from one neighbor to another was from five to ten and twelve miles, but then in those days, a few miles of travel was not thought any hardship. We can only imagine how Joseph Barnett and his family, after they had dwelt for almost five years alone in the wilderness, welcomed the Joneses, the Vas- binders, the Matsons, and others who first followed them into the county.
New settlers as they came in were received with the warmest of welcomes by their predecessors. Good will and kindly feelings prevailed, every one was ready to assist his neighbor, and if a new-comer, at a distance of ten or twelve miles, wanted to put up a log cabin, or barn, all he had to do was to inform those sturdy pioneers and he was sure to have their help at the appointed time. Chopping-bees and log-rollings, called in those days "frolics," were frequent. It might have been that some were influenced to attend these gatlı- erings on account of the whisky that was freely used on such occasions, for one of the first evidences of the settlement of the county was the building of
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HISTORY OF JEFFERSON COUNTY.
small " still houses," as they were then called; but it was the pure juice of the rye, and though undoubtedly injurious in its effects, was free from drugs and poison that is its principal ingredients in these days, and delirium tremens did not lurk in the cup as it does now. As those sturdy pioneers felled the trees, plowed the fields, or rafted the lumber down to Pittsburgh, they were laying the foundation of a county whose people, to-day, have no peers for intelli- gence, patriotism, and true nobility of character. Rude and illiterate some of them may have been, but they were strong of heart and limb, brave and enduring, possessing all the elements of true manhood and womanhood ; earn- est Christians most of them were, and they have left their impress upon the present generation. Those days of privation, toil and danger, had their green spots, and are yet held dear in the hearts of the few old people who still linger with us. Those very toils and sufferings made them sacred, and though the present generation have escaped all the hardships of their pioneer ancestors, it is to those days that this county owes all its prosperity, and all the blessings we now enjoy. Those early pioneers laid the foundation that we might enjoy the grandeur of the edifice ; they planted the tree, we are eating the fruit ; they sowed in tears and poverty that we might reap in joy and gladness. Let us honor and revere them for those sterling qualities that gave our county its first start towards its present greatness.
CHAPTER V.
EARLY INCIDENTS.
Pioneer Incidents - Early Rafting on the Mahoning and Little Toby - Hunting Wolves, Bears, Panthers, etc.
I N the winter of 1800, or 1801, Stephen Roll, August Shultz, and a negro
named Fudeon Vancamp, started on foot from near Easton, Pa., to come to Barnett Settlement, of which they had heard such glowing accounts. They got along on their journey all right until they reached the mouth of Ander- son's Creek, in the Susquehanna River, from which place their route lay through the unbroken wilderness. Not being accustomed to pioneer travel- ing, they started on the last stage of their journey, a distance of thirty-three miles, without providing anything to eat on the way. Soon after they left the Susquehanna River a heavy snow storm set in, and it continued to snow all day until the snow was over two feet deep. Fudge Vancamp, the negro, was the largest and strongest man of the party, and undertook to break the road
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EARLY INCIDENTS.
for the other two; but the cold and hunger at last overcome him, and when within about a mile of Barnett's he gave out and had to make the rest of the way on his hands and knees. He reached Mr. Barnett's about midnight, so much exhausted, and so nearly frozen, that it was almost an hour before he revived sufficiently to inform his host of the situation in which he had left his companions. As soon as they learned that there were others in danger of perishing, four or five men started to rescue them. Roll was met a few rods from the house. He had made the last stage of the journey in the same man- ner that the negro had done. Shultz, however, had given out some two miles back, and was found almost frozen. He lost three toes off one foot, and the great toe off the other, and eventually his life was the forfeit, for he never recovered from the effects of this terrible journey, but died a few months after reaching his home again. Roll and Vancamp recovered in a few days. They both settled near Port Barnett and lived to be old men.
Mrs. Graham, when about fourteen years old, was sent one evening to bring home the cows ; but the animals had strayed farther than she anticipated, and before she found them night set in, and a thunder storm coming on, she became bewildered and frightened, and lost her way. Imagining that the wolves were in pursuit of her, she feared to stop in the woods, and making her way to Mill Creek, she waded out to a large rock in the middle of the stream, and there spent the night in terror. She heard the cries of those who were searching for her, but thought their calls, as well as the barking of the dogs, was the howling of the wolves. She was rescued about daylight, when the water was rising rapidly, and before noon the rock was obliterated by the mad flood, and Mill Creek a raging torrent. Mrs. Graham said she was never sent to hunt the cows again, but had her father bade her go, she would have gone in spite of her fear, for, though kind to his family, he was strict in discipline, and none of his children ever thought of disobeying him. It is said that when his son Andrew was a married man with children and a home of his own, if his father told him to do a thing he obeyed at once, without any questioning.
The greatest economy had to be exercised in those early days of which we have spoken, both in regard to food and clothing. No supplies could be had without a long and dangerous journey of forty or fifty miles, and sometimes families found themselves reduced to the greatest straits for food. A venerable lady, of one of the " first families " of the county, informed me that the hard- est time she ever experienced was living for a week on dried apples and corn bread, and that their greatest treat was to to be able to have "white wheat cakes at Christmas." Another family is said to have been so hard pressed for food that they had to boil the seeds of pumpkins, and yet another who sub- sisted on green corn for two weeks.
Mrs. Edwin English, of Brookville, relates an incident of her father, Rev. Gara Bishop, one of the pioneer ministers of this region. He was residing in
4
.
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HISTORY OF JEFFERSON COUNTY.
1825 or 1826 in " Old Town" (Clearfield), and was called to perform a mar- riage ceremony near the line of Jefferson and Clearfield counties. Mr. Bishop drove in a sleigh-it being in the depth of winter-a distance of twenty miles to the appointed place, and on reaching the house, which stood lone and forlorn in the midst of the white waste, he inquired of the young man who came to meet him at the door, and who appeared to be the sole occupant of the house, whether he could get something for himself and horse to eat, but was informed that he could not procure anything unless he went ten miles farther on. He then inquired for the bride, and was told she would soon be there, and pretty soon his host announced, " There they come now," and looking out he beheld two women wading through the snow, which was more than " knee deep." When they reached the cabin the bride went up into the "loft " to put an her wedding dress, which she had brought in a bundle with her. She returned in a few minutes, and the simple ceremony was soon over. The groom then asked the bride whether she had brought anything with her to eat, as the preacher had had no dinner. She produced a loaf of bread, from which Mr. Bishop was supplied, and when he had appeased his hunger with this dry food, he turned his face homeward, having to drive another twenty miles before he could get anything for his poor horse, and this, too, over roads that the heavy fall of snow had made almost impassable; and for this hard day's journey he received one dollar.
Dr. A. M. Clarke relates the following incident: "When I was about twelve or thirteen years of age, I was sent in the winter season with a yoke of oxen and a sled to procure a load of corn from any source from which it could be obtained, and found myself belated in the woods, but at last came to a lit- tle clearing, where there was an old man by the name of Stevens and his wife living in a poor log cabin. I was made welcome to the warmth of their fire, which was very pleasant, as I was cold, tired, and perhaps hungry. I had brought forage with me, and the team was soon cared for; and the old lady busied herself for some time in preparing a supper for me. She first fried some salt pork, then greased a griddle with some of the fat procured from the meat, and baked some corn cakes, then made what she called 'a good cup of rye coffee,' sweetened with pumpkin molasses. I was not hungry enough to much enjoy this repast. In the morning, on inquiry of my host, I learned that six miles further down the stream (Bennett's Branch), I could likely get the corn at a Mr. Johnson's. I must not return without it, so onward we went in the morning, bought the corn and returned home."
One of the first settlers of the southern portion of the county, and if tradi- tion serves us right, one of the earliest lumbermen of the Mahoning, was Jesse Armstrong, who built his cabin in a bend of the creek, now called Armstrong's Bend, a short distance below where the mill of James U. Gillespie now stands. He, with William Neal, devised the plan of constructing a raft, and early in the
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EARLY INCIDENTS.
spring of 1818 the two men, with Sally, Armstrong's wife-and tradition says assisted by two Indians who had been in the neighborhood, perhaps visiting the graves of their people-started on their raft to explore the lower waters of the Mahoning, a peaceful enough stream in summer, but when swollen by the spring rains and melting snows, a veritable, rushing, foaming river. The raft, which was not one of the deftly put together square timber, or board rafts of the present day, but constructed of round logs roughly withed together, was swept down the mad current. The oars were poor, and the oarsmen and pilot unskilled and ignorant of the stream, and at length the frail craft struck on the rocks, and the crew barely escaped with their lives to the shore. Indeed, poor Sally Armstrong would have found a watery grave had not Billy Neal caught her by her long red hair, and pulled her out of the seething flood. It it said that the eddy where this catastrophe occurred was ever after known as " Sally's Eddy." Just before this mishap occurred, Sally had prepared some food from the stores which they had with them; but Owenoco, one of the In- dians, said, "No, no; we no eat now ; may be never eat; " at the same time he was trying with great strength and skill to keep the tossing craft from dash- ing against the great rocks that loomed up on every side. Suddenly they were drawn into the fearful eddy, and the oar of Owenoco breaking off sud- denly, he lost control of the raft. Extricating themselves with difficulty from their perilous predicament, the white men and Indians finally got their broken raft safely moored to shore and tied fast to a tree. Then, by the aid of flint and torch, the Indians called down the sacred fire, which they ascribed as a gift from their Manitou, and soon the little band of lumbermen, and the poor drenched lumber-woman, were gathered around the welcome fire; all their provisions, with the exception of some bread and salt that Sally had placed in a box, which was saved, had gone down into the watery flood, with some crocks of honey, the product of the wild bees, which Sally was taking to Pitts- burg to purchase finery with. The bows and arrows of the Indians soon, how- ever, procured them food, and in the cheerful light and warmth of the fire they soon regained their spirits, and after a night's rest, were ready early the next morning to again undertake the perilous journey, and without any more serious mishaps gained their journey's end, being safely landed at Pittsburgh, where their dusky companions bade them farewell forever, and wended their way to Canada, there to join the remnant of their tribe.
Armstrong and his wife exchanged their logs for such provisions and wear- ing apparel as they could carry, and returned on foot to Punxsutawney. It was after night when they came in sight of their cabin, where Adam Long and his wife dwelt with them. The loud barking of the dog announced their coming, and Adam said to his wife, " I bet a deerskin it bees Jess and Sall comin'," and soon the weary travelers were seated around their own fireside, enjoying the rest they so much needed, and while they partook of the repast of
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HISTORY OF JEFFERSON COUNTY.
bear's meat, etc., that Mrs. Long hastily provided for them, they told the story of their perilous journey and its successful ending, and Adam Long in turn narrated the story of his fight with the bear whose skin was then drying on the wall of the cabin, and which he had killed near their very door. "Oh, Lor'! but I am tired" said Mrs. Armstrong, " I would not do that again for all the plagued raft and honey. I feel so crippled up I can scarcely walk." " Yes," said Adam, " put ye give the hunny to te fesh, an' to te alegatorsh." "Yes, I lost my seven crocks of honey, and if it hadn't been for Billy Neal I would have went with the honey. I'll always respect him for that. Jesse never tried to put out his hand to catch me," said the irate dame. " Why Sally," said Armstrong, " you know that when you jumped in I was trying to save myself on the other side of the raft." "But what te tivel you do mit Neal?" said Adam; " did de Injun kill him, or did you sell him mit your raft ?" " Oh !" said Jesse, " Neal went with us to Pittsburgh, where we left him. We got on Leslie Ramsey's boat. I helped push the boat up to Kittanning, and Sally and me come afoot from there along the Indian path. We come it in two days."
Then Adam Long told his story of the bear's death. His dog had started the bear on the hill above the creek, and they had followed it from crag to crag until it at last, just on the bank of the creek, it turned to give them bat- tle, and caught the dog in its embrace, when the hunter dealt the huge beast a powerful blow with his hatchet. The furious animal relaxed its hold of the dog and sprang at Adam with extended jaws, and seemed to realize that the conflict was for life or death. The hunter's gun was useless. He had no time to aim at the bear, but springing aside, he drew his long keen hunting-knife, and returned to the charge. The huge black beast was standing erect and received the thrust of the knife in his neck, and as Long was about to give him another blow with his knife he struck him with his powerful paw and stretched him on the ground, while his knife flew from his hand into the creek, and had not the dog at this juncture come to the rescue, poor Adam would never have lived to tell of this exploit; but seeing his master at the mercy of their common enemy, he sprang upon the bear and there ensued a fierce strug- gle ; but the bear was badly wounded, and the dog at last threw him almost into the creek, when the bear gave up the contest, and springing into the water, made for the other shore, the brave dog still holding on to his flank. Adam Long had by this time recovered his faculties, and reloading his gun fired at the bear, the ball taking effect in his shoulder. He then plunged into the creek and encountered him upon the other shore with his hatchet, and soon dispatched him. He believed that the huge beast would have weighed at least four hundred pounds. Adam always loved to narrate this story.
Long had left Westmoreland county to escape being pressed into the serv- ice to fight the British in the War of 1812, preferring to be a Nimrod than an Achilles.
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EARLY INCIDENTS.
As we have said before, the country abounded in wild animals when the early settlers first came ; the bear and wolf especially being the terror of the · farmer, and the ever vigilant foe of his sheep-fold and pig-pen. Many are the hunting stories related of those times, but we only reproduce a few of them, which come to us well authenticated. In the year 1806 a law was passed al- lowing a bounty of eight dollars for the scalp of each wolf or panther, and as the skins of these animals were also very valuable, nearly every man turned hunter, not only for the purpose of protecting themselves and their flocks from the depredations of these beasts of prey, but also for the revenue they derived from killing them. They would watch the dens of the wolves when the young wolves had attained a certain size, and capture them, trying to time their visit when the old wolves were absent.
Some time in the spring of 1823 two men, named Timblin and Porter, came to David Postlethwaite's, in Perry township, to get some whisky-Mr. Postle- thwaite kept a "still house" at the time-stating that they were going to hunt for wolves. During the evening the two hunters imbibed so much whisky that Postlethwaite concluded they would not hunt any wolves that evening, and af- ter they left he went to his brother John and told him that if they were going to hunt the wolves they must do it that night, as the other parties would likely start in the morning. They knew where the wolves had a den in a cavern under a huge rock, about three-quarters of a mile from Postlethwaite's, and about a quarter of a mile from the present Brookville and Indiana road. Just as they came round the rock, David told his brother that the old wolf was in, for he had heard her. His brother doubted this at first, but soon found that David was right. It was then about dusk in the evening. David said, "Well, John, will you go in and shoot her?" "No, I'll be - if I do," said John. "Well, if you won't, I must," said his brother, and at once prepared to go into the den, taking with him his gun, hunting-knife, and a long pole, nine or ten feet long, to feel for the wolf, so that he should not get too near her un- awares. After proceeding into the hole about fifteen feet he came to a short turn to the left, where the passage became so narrow that he could proceed with difficulty ; about six feet further on he came to another turn to the right, and feeling ahead with his pole, touched the wolf. He had some difficulty in getting her to look towards him, so that he could see her eyes to fire at. He finally got a good aim, leveled, and fired at the brute's eyes, and then got back as fast as he could past the first turn in the passage, when he listened to see whether his shot had taken effect; but for a time the report of the gun as it reverberated through the cavern was deafening; when this died away he knew by the absence of the old wolf's breathing that she was dead. His brother then went in and brought her out and nine whelps with her. David's bullet had struck her a quarter of an inch from the eye. Rattlesnakes were also very plenty, and the danger from them was very great. Some time in the
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HISTORY OF JEFFERSON COUNTY.
fall of 1823 David Postlethwaite found a rattlesnake den not more than half a mile from his house, and killed forty or fifty of the reptiles. The next spring he and Nathaniel Foster went out to the den to have "a spree killing rattle- snakes." Just as the two men were starting from the house, they met James Stewart, a neighbor, who was coming to Postlethwaite's on an errand, and in- vited him to accompany them ; so the three, armed with a club apiece, went to the den and in less than two hours had killed three hundred snakes. Mr. Pos- tlethwaite, who related the story to our informant, said that they counted them, and that from forty to sixty dead reptiles lay in a circle of ground not more than ten feet in diameter.
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