USA > Tennessee > Old times in West Tennessee : reminiscences, semi-historic, of pioneer life and the early emigrant settlers in the Big Hatchie country > Part 5
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CHAPTER IV.
John C. Barnes, the Pioneer Blacksmith-What Became of General Tipton's Jack-The Chickasaws and the Shooting Match-The First Tub Mill and Cotton Gin-Joshua Farrington, the Gin Maker-Temple, the Screw Cutter and Model Bear Hunter-Bolivar Merchants-Pitser Miller-The Author's First Killing.
JOHN C. BARNES was the pioneer blacksmith in Tip- ton, north of Hatchie. His shop was on the waters of Fisher's creek. Barnes was a good citizen, though a bachelor, and had the advancement and prosperity of the settlement very much at heart. Of robust constitution, he stood six feet two in his stocking feet, broad across the chest, with shoulders and arms of a Vulcan, and was a skillful and most reliable workman with all.
The bringing into cultivation of the rich new lands began to require more work stock than were brought in by the settlers. Barnes, wishing to contribute his share toward increasing the stock of the land, proposed bringing a jack into the settlement and establish his headquarters at his blacksmith shop. His proposition was approbated by the neighbor- hood, with promises of patronage. But the grave question arose, first, as to where one could be had, and secondly, the money required to pay for one. A good jack in those days was worth from six to eight hundred dollars, which was more money than
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Barnes, backed by the settlement, could conveniently raise. My father, hearing of Barnes' enterprise, and equally anxious with the lower settlement, to begin the raising of mules, sent for him. Barnes, full of hope-giving promise, with the message he had received, was at my father's to breakfast the next morning. He and my father talked over the sub- ject-matter of his visit, which resulted in his going over to see General Tipton, residing south of the Hatchie, near Covington.
General Tipton was among the first settlers south of the Big Hatchie, in the county which bore his name. His place of dwelling was beautifully situ- ated, four miles northeast of Covington, where he established a large plantation. He early introduced into the country the " best blooded stock." He took great interest in raising fine horses, mules and cat- tle, by which he became a great benefactor to the early settlers. - Barnes, without delay, went over to see the General, and by an arrangement satisfactory to both parties, obtained his fine jack " Moses," and brought him over to his blacksmith shop. There being no printing offices yet in the country, Barnes repaired to. old man Gaines, who taught a school in the set- tlement, and who wrote a fine, big hand, and got him to write off handbills, which he did, announcing, in a flowing big hand, that " General Tipton's cele brated Jack, ' Moses,' fifteen and a half hands high, would keep his headquarters for the season at Barnes blacksmith shop," etc. Sticking them up, one at the school-house, one at the meeting-house, and through the settlement generally, the neighbors
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flocked to the blacksmith shop to see General Tip- ton's famous jack " Moses," and Barnes felt that his fortune would be made in one season. His black- smith work, in the meantime, kept him busy during spring and early summer, which, with the standing profits that promised to crop out of the " celebrated Moses," he passed the summer with golden dreams of a rich harvest from his enterprise.
The Chickasaws had not yet abandoned the Big Hatchie country as their favorite hunting-ground, Bands of hunters came in every fall, hunting in the Hatchie Bottom, until they loaded their ponies with deer, bear and other skins, which they took to Boli- var, a trading post for Indian traffic. Game of every description was so plentiful that the whites paid little or no attention to their coming or going. They were proverbially polite, friendly, and wholly inof- fensive. To the nearest settlers they would bring in the finest haunches of venison, fat gobblers and bear meat. They hunted for the most part for the peltries, curing only as many venison hams as they could conveniently pack away on their ponies.
The hunting season had opened. Barnes, how- ever, was no hunter. He was regarded as the rising man of the settlement, and began to think it was not good to be " alone in the world." A wedding was soon talked of at Captain Childress', some six miles below in the " thick woods." Barnes was spotted as the lucky man, and the Captain's eldest daughter as the woman, She was a widow. The wedding came off, and Barnes took his bride home. Arriving at home with his loving charge, he was met
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with the stern reality, that "Moses " had gotten out and taken himself off to the "wilderness." All hands had gone to the wedding, and none could tell how he got out or whither he had gone. It was night, and nothing could be done until morning. Barnes- rose early, and his first care was to find the whereabouts of the General's jack. Finding from his tracks that he had gone in the direction of the Hatchie Bottom, he returned to breakfast. After breakfast, he, with his foreman in the shop, went in search of "Moses." Taking his track, they fol- lowed it until they came to the thick switch-cane, where they could track him no farther. Bogueing about in the cane until night came upon them, they were compelled to return, having hunted all day in vain. A general search was made the next day, sev- eral of the neighbors joining in the hunt; but "Moses " had lost himself in the wilderness, where he could not be found. Barnes grew uneasy ; he was troubled. Could he have been stolen ? Hardly, for he had been tracked to the thick cane. The Chickasaws were. in camp some eight miles above. None had been seen so low down, and if they had, no one thought for a moment that they were guilty of-the theft. They had been coming in every hunt- ing season, and were never known to trespass upon any one's rights. No, the Chickasaws had never been guilty of a wrong. In the meantime the win- ter rains set in early, overflowing all the streams. The Hatchie rose rapidly, inundating the bottom. "Moses" had not yet returned. The conclusion Barnes came to was, that he had been caught in the
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overflow and drowned. The winter passed, and Barnes had to report to the General the loss of his jack, acknowledging his responsibility in the prem- ises. He promised to make good his value as soon as he was able to do so. The General, kind at heart and in sympathy with Barnes for his loss, was lenient. Barnes went to work in his shop, redoubling his energies. New-comers were rapidly settling around him. His shop work increased. He made and sharpened all the plows for eight or ten miles around. Happening to be on the river fishing one day, as a trading boat was descending, the Captain hailed him 'and inquired whether any peltries were on sale in his neighborhood. In the meantime the boat drifted around in the eddy where he was fishing, coming up broadside to the bank. The deck, or roof, of the boat was covered with skins of all kinds. It was sunny September, and the skins were being sunned and aired. A conversation grew up, Barnes asking the Captain what kind of skins he was buying, what he was paying, and the points he was trading to and from, when the Captain remarked that he had bought a hide of an animal at Bolivar novel in the peltry trade. The novelty was turned over, with the hair side up, a huge hide, with head, cars, and the eye holes well stretched. No sooner was Barnes' attention called to it when he exclaimed : " By thunder !- Captain, it's my jackass's skin. ' Moses,' have I found you at last ? Captain, where did you come across that hide ? " The Captain told him that he purchased it with other skins from Bills & McNeal, of Bolivar. Barnes. then related the
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story of the missing jack, and the Captain, being impressed with the truth of the statement, readily turned the hide over to Barnes, who took it home and put it away for safe keeping. The following month, October, the Chickasaws came in for their fall hunt. Barnes was on the lookout for them. They came down to the number of sixty or seventy, and camped at the mouth of Fisher's Creek, in the vicinity where "Moses" had lost himself the fall previous. They were very friendly. Barnes was favorably known to. many of them. He had, on previous seasons, repaired their guns. Wholly igno- rant of the grave charge awaiting them, several were soon out to the shop to have the locks of their guns fixed. Barnes had a talk with them. Learn- ing that it was the same party that were in the bottom hunting the fall previous, he fell upon a strategy to get them out to his shop. Fixing their locks, he told them that a great " shooting-match" was going to take place at his shop next Saturday, then three days off, and invited them to come and bring all of their best shots; that they were going to shoot for the skin of a large and beautiful ani- mal, the only one of the sort that was ever killed in the Hatchie Bottom. Delighted with the oppor- tunity of shooting with the white man, and for such a prize skin, they left in great glee, promising to come and bring all of their best marksmen. Barnes was not long in communicating with his neighbors and arranging for the "shooting match." Saturday came. The best shots of the neighborhood, num- bering thirty, had arrived. Soon the Indians came
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galloping up on their ponies, numbering between sixty and seventy.
The blacksmith shop was at the cross-roads, on a high, level bench of land, thickly shaded with large poplar, oak and hickory, free from undergrowth. A broad board had been charred, by holding it over a fire until it was black. The " bull's eye " was cut and pinned in the center of the "black-board," which was nailed breast high on a large poplar, and ninety yards stepped off. The Indians were to choose from among them five of their best shots, and the whites the same number. Judges were appointed to arrange the order of shooting. A silver half-dollar was cast up, " heads or tails," to decide which side should have the first shot. It was won by the red mon. The judges announced everything ready for the shooting to begin. Four shots, in their order, was made, and the judges decided there was a "tie." The last round would decide. The red man squared himself to the mark, slowly bringing his rifle to his shoulder, and in breathless silence raised its long barrel until his sight covered the " bull's eye," and fired. He drove the center. It was the first shot that broke the cross (+). The Indians yelled with gleeful delight. The remaining shots were wide of the mark, and the Chickasaws whooped and yelled, calling for the prize skin. Barnes was ready with it. He deliberately walked out with the hide of "Moses" rolled up under his arm, and unrolled it upon the ground, to the astonished gaze of the red men. There was the hide of the cele- brated jack, " Moses," with its mouse-colored hair 4
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and black streak running down its back, its flanks and belly white as cotton, relieved by the dark rings of the neck and head, with ears sticking up, and eye-holes circled with thick tufts of short white hair, spread out on the ground. The red men pressed up close to get a sight. The winner of the prize gath éred it up, to exhibit it, as well as to examine it more closely. Turning it over, he broke out with a jolly, semi-savage " Ha ! ha! ha! Me kill him. Me shoot him. See my bullet hole ! [running his finger through the fatal hole.] Ha ! ha! Me sell him to Bolivar. Me get him again. Ha! ha !" Old man Fullen-Ben Fullen, proprietor of "Fullen Ferry "- who was not in the secret of Barnes' strategy exclaimed aloud, that it was "the hide of General Tipton's jack ;" he would " swear by the flesh marks that it was. See them eye-holes, and them ringe round his big ears !" "Hush !" said Barnes, "let me speak." Asking them all to be quiet, he spoke addressing himself to the Chickasaws. He explained to them the nature and uses of the animal whose hide was before them; that it belonged to a great General, who lived on the other side of the Hatchie that he strayed away from his shop into the thick cane last fall, while he was absent from home; that he and his neighbors had hunted for him for weeks and concluded that he was caught in the overflow and drowned; that he had to pay the General six hundred dollars for his loss; that he was a poor man, not able to pay that big money; that he had been good to them, fixing and repairing their old guns whenever they came to him, and never charged
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them much; that the Chickasaws were a brave, honorable nation ; that they had never stolen any- body's property, nor trespassed upon anyone's rights. The brave young man, who was the best shot and won the hide, acknowledged that he killed him. He was satisfied that he thought he was shoot- ing some wild animal; that he felt innocent of doing harm. Yet, they were in the white man's country, where laws were made; that the laws did not have any respect to persons, and ignorance was no excuse; that all were alike guilty, and they must pay him for killing the animal. If they refused, the man of the law was upon the ground, who would have them all arrested and carried to jail.
The utmost respect and attention was paid to Barnes while he was making this plain talk. The older heads of the red men gathered together in the grove, and held council in the matter. After a long talk, the young hunters having gathered around them, they dispersed, each man going to his pony. Their movements were eagerly watched and noted by the thirty good marksmen at the shop. Getting their ponies, they all came leading them up before the shop. An intelligent looking old hunter spoke :
" We sorry for killing him. We think he belong to the woods. We find him in thick cane. We think him wild. We sorry for Barn-good man, work much. We take no white man's hoss, pony, nothin that b'longs -to white man. We honest. We pay. We have ponies; that's all [motioning toward the long line of ponies held by their owners.] Take pay. We honest."
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The strategy was a success. The red men had shown themselves true CHICKASAWS. Barnes told his red friends to point out the ponies they wanted to give up in payment for the jack. The old hunter who had acted as spokesman said: "Take, take plenty. Red man pay white man. Let white man say." Barnes then suggested that three white men and two red men be appointed as appraisers. They were appointed, and passed upon the value of the ponies, fixing their value at seventeen dollars and a fraction as the average, turning over to Barnes thirty five ponies in payment and full satisfaction for his jack. What became of General Tipton's jackass was satisfactorily explained.
The Chickasaws. meeted out a full measure of justice to our friend Barnes-six hundred dollars worth of ponies satisfied the law. It was their first lesson-stunning lesson under the teachings of stern written law. They would have no more of it, so they cut short their hunt, and bid a long fare well to the Big Hatchie country, their old hunting ground, and returned to their "beloved prairies," soon to be yielded up to the progress of Southern agriculture. Barnes had a public sale and sold off the ponies, distributing the illegitimate proceeds of his jack through the settlement, thereby increasing the stock of the land. My eldest brother purchased three of them; most excellent hunting ponies they were.
It is proper to mention here, that the parties at Bolivar, who became possessed of the jack's hide and who enjoyed the joke, had it narrated in the lower
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settlement, where the Indians were wont to hunt, putting on foot inquiries as to who had lost a jack- ass, which came to the knowledge of the owners thereof. For none stood higher for commercial integrity than the merchants of Bolivar.
BOLIVAR
was one of the earliest and most important trading posts in West Tennessee. Its first settlers were men of a high grade-such men as the Polks, Bills, Woods, Millers, McNeils, and many others, whose names are not only identified with Bolivar and Hardeman county, but familiar to the whole Western District of Tennessee as among the best and brightest. Of the many old settlers, whose long and eventful life has been spared to link the past with the present, and who stands among the noble fathers of the land, no better specimen could be offered than the name of
PITSER MILLER.
I well remember him at the period, when my father, with his immigrant train, camped at Bolivar, wait- ing for the waters of the Big Hatchie to subside to enable him to cross. He was then quite a young man, of course. He came to our camp, made the acquaintance of my mother, and would have her and my grandmother, and the young children, to go to his house, and showed them every kindness-not letting them leave his hospitable roof until the train was ready to move across the river. His generous kindness was ever remembered by my father and mother, and will never be forgotten by their chil-
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dren. I am not aware, at this writing, whether he is among the living, but if gone forever, his name will long survive his mortal death. I regret that I am not able to give a biographical sketch of him- such as his name merits, as I knew him more from his high character than as a personal acquaintance. Certain it is, however, that the annals of West Tennessee could not be written without his name. He ever stood with the people of Bolivar and Hardeman county as the first and leading mer- chant, and exercised and maintained a healthy influence over all who knew him and enjoyed his acquaintance. I remember that one earnest sen- tence spoken by him, so influenced my mother as to have turned the scale of fortune against us. My father, upon reaching Bolivar, had not determined upon a point of location. He had several landed in- terests in Tennessee. He had visited the country the year previous, and explored it from the first to the fourth Chickasaw bluff. He had stood upon the grand bluff upon which the magnificent young city of Memphis now stands, when Bayou Gayoso coursed its way through a wild jungle-the haunts of the wild beast-and communed with the grand river He was interested with the late Colonel John C. Mac- lemore (who was a near relative of my mother), in several landed interests. Among the tracts in which he had an interest, was the Ramsay five-thousand acre tract, now covered by South Memphis. It had been agreed between Colonel Maclemore and m father, that he could, at his option, locate upon the Ramsay tract. It was his aim and wish to settle
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upon the banks of the great river Mississippi, in hearing of its surging waters. The subject was being freely discussed in the presence of Mr. Miller. My mother had given the subject but little thought, so charmed was she with Pitser Miller. My father, however, had the fourth Chickasaw bluff firmly set in his heart. Mr. Miller remained reticent as to an opinion upon the subject until my mother, address- ing him, called for his opinion. In all seriousness he said: " Well Madam, if you will go and settle on the banks of the Mississippi river, let me suggest that your husband take along plank enough to make coffins to bury your children-your whole family." I remember well the electric effect of these remarks upon my mother. Her children were her jewels-eight of them. My father, be it said, ever yielded to the fancies of his intelligent and loving wife, Patsey. The decision was taken, and Pitser Miller's coffin plank kept us from settling on the Ramsay tract. Nobody is responsible for the freaks of Dame For- tune-an unmitigated old hag, unworthy of decent burial. Our immigrant train had better have turned in the direction of the fourth Chickasaw bluff, with Mr. Miller's coffin plank, than to have crossed the Big Hatchie. Yet, Dame Fortune never cast "new-comers" upon a more enchanting and lovely spot than fell to our lot north of the Big Hatchie. This incident is only mentioned to show the influence Pitser Miller exercised over the minds of men-especially women-even in his young days.
Returning to our wilderness home, our greatest need was good bread. The steel mill had worn
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out, and we had to resort to the mortar and pestle. The meanest of all meal is that pounded in a mor- tar-a wooden mortar-dark, dingy, close, clammy. Bread made of it is too mean to write about. So my father resolved to build a mill. Selecting for it a beautiful site on the creek, where the bluff was most inviting, he went to work with his own resour ces, and soon had an old time "tub-mill " ready to make good meal. He sent up in the vicinity of Jackson, in Madison county, for his mill-rocks, He also attached a gin, for we had began to grow cotton. He purchased his gin-stand of
JOSHUA FARRINGTON,
of Brownsville, than whom no cleverer man ever filed a saw-tooth or adjusted a brush. I remember Mr. Farrington as a true type of an old-time gen tleman. His gins, manufactured by himself and sons, were, as to West Tennessee, what Pratt's were to Alabama. By his industry and probity he raised a large family of sons and daughters, who became ornaments in society-his eldest, Jacob, the popu lar, enterprising man of progress; John, eminent as a jurist, and William, prominent as a merchant and financier, and now stands head among the bank presidents of Memphis. John and William are, · believe, all that are now living of the worthy sons of a most worthy sire. The mill going, and gin ready, a press was needed, but where to get a screw cutter was the trouble. My father, inquiring in the settlement, was informed that there was an. excel- lent screw-cutter, who had abandoned his trade and
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taken to bear-hunting; that his place of dwelling, or camp, as it was termed, was somewhere over on Cane creek. He forthwith dispatched old Jack, with such instructions as he could give him. The next day, about noon, Jack returned, bringing the screw-cutter with him. He came on foot, with a heavy, short rifle on his shoulder, in well-dressed leather overalls up to his hips, followed by two fero- cious dogs, of immense size, panther-colored, with black, broad noses, their ears rounded off close to their heads, and their tails bobbed off close to their broad haunches -- brother and sister. They were the best-trained bear-dogs in the Big Hatchie country, and their owner the best hunter in Crockett's land. A model hear-hunter, he had hunted with David Crockett, and was familiar with the range and haunts of bruin from Reelfoot lake to the mouth of the Hatchie. Stout and strong (he stood full six feet), straight as an Iroquois, carrying no surplus flesh, with an iron constitution, his home and de- light was the wildwoods; intelligent and good look- ing, withal, and as unselfish as the genial soil upon which he was wont to tread. Preferring the chase to work, the utilitarian would write him down as a lazy man. He soon satisfied my father that he could cut a screw-that he was a finished workman-but he was loth to take the job, as it was near the hunt- ing season (it was then early fall), and he could not come and leave his family in his camp, as he called it. He had a wife and two young children, twin daughters, and not a year old. My mother, over- hearing the conversation, and equally anxious about
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the screw, spoke, saying: "Oh, no, sir !. It will never do to leave your wife and her babies alone in the woods. Bring them along; we will provide for them some way. We can fix them up in the loom-house it has a good fire-place, and we will not need it until the cotton is picked out and ginned. Beside, if you want to hunt bear, you can find as many down the creek as on Reelfoot lake." The question of the screw-cutter coming was soon settled, and it was agreed that Jack should hitch up a team and return with him that evening, and move his family over immediately. The screw-cutter remarked that two horses and a light wagon would be sufficient, as his wife constituted the heaviest part of his household goods. It was so. Old Jack returned in the after noon of the next day, bringing the screw-cutter and all of his earthly possessions, consisting of wife and two babies, and but little else besides the scanty bed upon which they slept, and they were as happy as if they had rosewood and mahogany, damask and satin. Young and healthy, they lived in and for one another. Without doubt my recollection pic tures her the handsomest looking woman, for her flesh and size, I ever saw-tall, above the aver age height of woman, and remarkably well-shaped and fleshy. Two hundred pounds was her ordinary weight. Her features were faultless, and her com plexion as delicate as a rose-leaf. Her two babies were as fat and beautiful as herself. My mother thought her a sweet woman, and became quite fond of her. She, like her husband, was intelligent and interesting in conversation, and, like him, the wild-
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