USA > Texas > Early pioneer days in Texas > Part 7
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He sleeps in the beautiful grove where oft he chased the fleet-footed deer in the days of long ago. Here beneath the crumbling clods sleeps one of nature's true noblemen. There is sorrow in the old homestead, there is grief in the quiet com- munity where he dwelt, there is regret to the ut- most bounds of his acquaintance.
His death was a bitter blow to those who loved him, and they were many. Illness had deprived him of a consciousness of the presence of his loved ones, who, like shadows, lingered at the couch of death, and with a tenderness whose every touch was a prayer of love, ministered to the last wishes of the dying man. He had passed through life's vernal spring, through golden summer and russet autumn, into winter and its deep snows, yet not by the calendars can such a life be measured. His life is longest whose memory is thickest set with scenes sweet to dwell upon when daylight fades and the last rays of sunset crown the hills in glory, and for Capt. Nicholson there was a retrospection studded with a gem for every passing day. He was happiest when contributing to the happiness of his fellow-man. Poverty, ne'er plead before
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him in vain; those who knew him best tell of the heavy demands made on his charity in pioneer days, but never of an instance when he refused to share his bounty with the needy. The distressed sought him and found a friend in adversity's hour ; the sorrowing came and found a balm for every ill.
He has passed away; nature's vital chord was disengaged and he sleeps; it is appointed unto all once to die, and in turn we take our place in death's silent chamber. But memory does not fade, and there is a sorrow for loved ones that time cannot root from the heart. The love that survives the tomb is the noblest attribute of the soul. When the overwhelming mist of grief is lulled into the gentle tear of recollection, the convulsive agonies over the ruins of all we most loved are softened away into meditation of all that it was in the days of its loveliness. There is a voice from the tomb that is sweeter than song, a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charm of living.
REMINISCENCES OF A. J. NICHOLSON.
Captain A. J. Nicholson was a member of the legislative body at Austin in 1861 that passed the ordinance of secession; and backing his faith by his works, was one of the first to volunteer when war was decided on, and was in continuous service till the surrender except when incapacitated by a wound received at the battle of Pea Ridge in 1862.
A member of his old company recently re- marked that the Captain was always a just and
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impartial man and if he had to decide a question of anything like equal merits between a relative or intimate friend and a comparative stranger, the decision would always be made in favor of the stranger. This was to avoid the imputation of favoritism or partiality. This trait of his char- acter was fully illustrated in his first race for the Legislature as representative for Fannin County. It was back in the '50s and he made the race as a Democrat, and was opposed by Col. Bob Taylor, of Bonham, the Whig candidate. The parties were about equally divided and the result doubtful till the last. On the day of election a voter, not know- ing to whom he was speaking, asked Nicholson to assist him in making out his ticket. The request was complied with, and the voter's choice of can- didates were left on the ticket till they came to representative. The voter on being told of the nature of the two candidates, remarked: "I am not acquainted with either of the candidates, and will leave the selection to you if you have any choice." "All right," replied Nicholson, "I will leave Taylor's name on the ticket," and scratching his own name off completed the ticket. When the returns were all in Taylor was elected by three votes.
Years afterwards these two were again pitted against each other for the same office, when Nicholson easily won the race.
Capt. A. J. Nicholson came to Texas with his parents in 1837, stopping in Lamar County. One year later his father moved to this county, settling near Meade Springs, at the spot now known as the Stephen's place. Captain Nicholson served
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six years in the State Legislature, and was often urged to seek other and more lucrative positions, but he positively refused to do so, preferring the quiet life of his farm. His last illness was long and severe, death resulting from paralysis of the brain.
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CHAPTER XII.
JOE SPENCE.
In 1838 a young fellow, with a humorous and adventuresome disposition, bold and brave, came
UNCLE JOE SPENCE, Honey Grove, Texas
to Texas to make his home. He came from South Carolina; he was Uncle Joe Spence. Uncle Joe was not an ordinary man in the sense of being
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uninteresting or unattractive in conduct and speech, but was vivacious, humorous and a good conversationalist. He had an excellent memory and could spill more yarns and stories and make everyone around him jolly and gay. He was like the sunshine after a cold, wet rain, and so light- hearted and gay and jovial that he was twice happy who had the good fortune to be associated with him. How charming were the times when Uncle Joe would come to the home of my parents, and how my boy chums and playmates would de- light themselves as Uncle Joe would entertain the older folks, especially at Christmas. The darkies, our trusty servants, would make special efforts to get through their work to hear Uncle Joe tell of his experiences in dealing with the wily savage or thrilling experiences and encounters with wild beasts. Uncle Joe told us once how he made his first attempt at raising crops. He had cleared a small patch of new ground, put a brush fence around it, and afterwards used big heavy rails. In the patch he planted corn, peas and pumpkins. Scarcely had he got a good start when the deer, coons, squirrels and bears began to help them- selves to his crop. The Indians looked on, too, with longing eyes, and about the time he was about to enjoy the fruits of his labor the blood- curdling yell of the savages burst in on his peace and began to devastate the little patch he had so carefully husbanded. Frequently he was obliged to seek the shelter of his stoutly built log cabin and through the loopholes he had specially pre- pared pepper the Indians with his faithful, tried and true rifle. In this way many of the Indians
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were silenced forever, and many a time my father, W. B. Allen, and other brave pioneers helped to drive the pestiferous pilferers away.
The way Uncle Joe got rid of the coons and the droll and interesting manner he explained it are reminiscences I cannot help but think are novel. He made a fire pan light to shine the coons' eyes by tying a frying pan handle to a pole and setting fire to rich pine knots, put them in the pan and flash them in the eyes of the coon, then blaze away with his flint-lock shotgun, and the coons would drop in multitudes, while those that could would scatter helter skelter in every direction in their haste to get away .. His bear and coon dogs followed up the chase until they found a big hollow tree, about forty feet high, that had been broken by a big storm. The tree was about four feet wide, and into this hollow the coons tried to hide, their tails, in a conspicuous heap, hanging out at the opening near the ground. Here a battle royal ensued until the bear and coon dogs had dispatched the pest, and their hides were hastily taken and loaded later for the market with bear, buffalo, panther, deer and wolf skins, and set on pack ponies to be taken to Sam Fulton's store, on White River, Arkansas, a distance of about eighty- five miles
On another occasion Uncle Joe, my father, and a few friends were exploring and seeking a place to locate claims, which they had a right to do, after they had journeyed through a beautiful country over very rich fertile lands, pitched their camp. After being out about the third day Uncle Joe took a bucket to get some water while the
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others were making ready to fix the camp. Pass- ing over to an adjoining hill, he found a fine gurg- ling spring of pure, cold water, bursting out of gravel and boulders. While he was filling his bucket he noted the numerous tracks from moc- casined feet and an innumerable quantity of animal tracks, evidencing that this was the water- ing place for a considerable surrounding country. Suddenly he was aroused by the unearthly yell of a host of bloodthirsty savages. Summoning his courage, he bravely faced his foe and defiantly held himself in an attitude of defense. The In- dians, admiring his courage, said they did not want to kill brave man. The chief came forward, pat- ting him on the back, said: "Much heap brave white man," "White man make heap good chief," "He whip big Indian tribes if he be their chief." The Indians camped there one night, then went on their journey, following next day on their nar- row, meandering trail, chanting as they went their weird war songs. As they journeyed on they oc- casionally encountered buffalo, bear or deer, and when hungry would take their bows and arrows, lances and tomahawks and scalping knives and eat ravenously the raw meat of their victims as quickly as they were skinned. Uncle Joe was taken with them and his days were sad and lonely, as he contemplated that he would probably never see his friends again, as he was being taken farther and farther away from them. Probably he would be killed and scalped, and his Texas friends and Carolina friend would never know what had be- fallen him. The Indians were surprised one day to see in the distance what seemed to be smoke,
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but which proved to be a cloud of dust ascending upward to the skies. Quickly they discovered the cause was a monster rush of stampeded wild horses and other animals rushing like the wind toward them, like a mighty avalanche. Seeing the imminent danger, the Indians and brave Uncle Joe courageously prepared to give resistance and de- fend themselves against the onrushing beasts. They were almost on them and the blinding dust made breathing difficult. The plan agreed on was to kill the leaders in the hope that the others would divide and thus prevent them from being crushed to death. Uncle Joe, taking deliberate aim, brought down the biggest buffalo leader and the Indians did their share well, and the result was that they escaped the death which seemed certain to be upon them. After feasting on the carcasses of the animals they had slain they pro- ceeded to the mountain ranges through the val- leys and rough, rocky roads till they reached the top of one of the highest ones, from which they could have a view for miles away. Camping, the Indians compelled Uncle Joe to carry wood and water, imposing heavy burdens almost unbearable. Uncle Joe was ever on the alert for an opportunity to escape, but the watchful eyes of the squaws and spies made it impossible. After the cheerful fire of the blazing logs, which the cold night air made doubly agreeable, the Indians fell to sleep, while poor Uncle Joe, suffering from cold and dread and apprehension, not knowing what the In- dains intended to do with him and having a sense of his helplessness and loneliness, sat dejectedly near, though not able to enjoy the comforts of
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the fire. In the morning, after a night of stupor and unrest, he discerned the Indians pointing and jabbering over a large iron-bound whisky barrel that had been left by some white men who had camped there. The Indians proceeded to loosen the hoops and broke out the head, then rushed and violently took Uncle Joe and crammed him in the barrel, put on the head, and after giving their fiendish yell, went off and left him there to die. In his dilemma poor Uncle Joe revolved in his mind the good and the bad he had done in his life; cramped as he was there was little hope of escape and no hope of escape seemed possible. The only way he could get fresh air to breathe was through the bunghole. No one who has never been in a like position can appreciate the torture he had to bear. After he had been in the barrel some time a large number of wolves, bears and panthers came to feed upon the carcasses left by the Indians after they had broken camp. In their efforts to get the remnants the beasts began to fight. The howling, snarling and barking beasts made a hideous noise, so fierce as to make poor Uncle Joe's flesh creep. Two big black wolves got into a terrific battle and jumped and fell over each other beside the barrel in which Uncle Joe was a prisoner. One of the big wolves, in switching his tail, got it stuck through the bunghole of the barrel and Uncle Joe snatched it with a grip like a drowning man catching a straw. The big wolf, in his rage, went bounding over rocks and hills until the strain on the barrel loosened the hoops and the staves gave way,, with Uncle Joe rolling down the hillside, but fortunately he had escaped
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from his prison and he was overjoyed over his good fortune. He said it seemed to him as though he had rolled over a mile before he could gather together his senses, and with difficulty he picked up his bruised and mangled body, glanced about at the bewildered beasts about him who slunk away when they saw him stand up before them, master over all he surveyed.
He lost no time in returning to his comrades, traveling night and day to get to the camp. What a happy surprise it was to the boys to see him come, as they were fearful lest they would never see his face again. But he lived to have many an exciting experience after this, and not long after he had one with bears that had been carry- ing off his roasting ears on his new-made ground. Filling his flash pan, he went out and found the bears with a lot in their arms walking on their hind feet. Flashing their eyes with his pan, he killed two or three with his gun, and not having a good hold lost his footing, fell back, and the bear was about to jump on him when he whipped out his knife and they had a rough and tumble fight. Finally he thrust his knife to the bear's heart and he came off victorious with several carcasses of bear to his credit. They had plenty of bear meat to eat for several days.
It is, of course, impossible to recite all the deeds of valor and the only hopes I have in writing this little sketch of Uncle Joe Spence is to show to the generation now living, and those that are to fol- low, some of the difficulties and dangers that were daily experienced by the brave pioneers of former days. Uncle Joe's example and fortitude may not
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seem so striking now, but it was the lives of such men as these that have left us the freedom and comforts we enjoy as a blessed heritage, and it is my humble privilege to extol his name as of nature's noblemen and as one of Texas' heroes.
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CHAPTER XIII.
WM. SPENCE.
On February 18th, in the year 1833, in North Carolina, there was a babe born who was to be
UNCLE BILL SPENCE
enrolled in after years among the early pioneers in Texas history. It was the man of whom this sketch gives but a feeble reminiscence. Wm.
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Spence came through to Texas on horseback with Joseph P. Spence in 1838; the long, dangerous journey was accompanied with many an adven- ture, as the country was then infested with in-
VIRGINIA C. SPENCE
numerable bands of redskins and man-eating wild animals. There were also numerous bands of out- laws and horse thieves, who plied their infamous occupations on the white settlers and travelers in search of homes in the wilderness. It required more than ordinary bravery to make these trips,
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as there was, on every hand, dangers from loss of life from the bloodthirsty savage, the lurking wild beast, and the outlaw.
Nor was the pioneer himself the only sufferer, for we must take into account the mother and the father and the sisters and the brothers in the North Carolina home, who knew something of the privations and the danger that awaited the ab- sent son and brother. Pen cannot picture the anxiety and the worry on the mother mind, but these valiant men went forward in their strength and manhood to conquer unbeaten paths and set new homes for the increasing demands of the un- born generations yet to come. History has re- corded names of such men who have devoted their lives to the pursuit of finding new countries, new places where man can build and develop untold ad- vantages to mankind, and it is only fitting and worthy on our part to illuminate these pages with those who have done this for us, who have the advantages of what the early pioneers obtained by their self-sacrifice and enterprise by leaving this far-famed Texas a land of liberty and law-abiding commonwealth, where there is no longer any re- straint on any man who wants to pursue his ways according to his own conscience.
It was not so when Wm. Spence came here; the policy and the purpose of the inhabitants of the country was to destroy and take away the belong- ings of others for themselves. It was peopled with men who loved neither home nor liberty ex- cept so far as that liberty considered themselves. They delighted in killing or scalping or stealing or burning. Whenever anyone came to try and
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build, it was the desire of the inhabitants then to destroy and steal what they could get their hands on. The Indian and his ally, the notorious bands of horse thieves, composed of degenerate white men, were the sole occupants of the land except the beasts of the field, whose carniverous desires were satiated in preying on other beasts and occasionally a helpless or wounded human be- ing. If we can fully realize the difficulties of our forefathers who pioneered in early days we cer- tainly ought to be thankful for what they have done for us in providing for us the happy homes we now are permitted to enjoy without fear of molestation.
Nearly all the old settlers of the early days have passed across the dark river, and those of us who are on life's river homeward bound will soon reach the end of our journey and hope to meet again those gone before on the other side.
The nearest freighting market at which we could get our supplies in those days was at Jeffer- son, a distance of 125 miles. Aside from that we raised at home, was for forty years hauled from this point by an ox team attached to ox wagons, and these trains could be seen for miles hauling supplies from Jefferson and returning with loads of skins and products of the land.
Land sold in those days at 25 to 50 cents the acre, and there was abundance for everybody and plenty of grass for the cattle to feed on without the necessity for extra feeding.
Wm. Spence was one of those men, who, by sheer industry and perseverance under difficulties, earned his way through life because of his worth,
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and being economical, and assisted by a thrifty and industrious wife, accumulated quite a goodly estate with considerable means and a large herd of stock. They had a delightful and happy home, and delighted in extending hospitality to those who were their friends and royally entertained them, as well as those who were traveling through the country seeking to make a home among them.
Uncle Bill, as he was familiarly called, married Virginia C. Baker in March, 1869, from which union there was born a son, William, who lives on the old home place.
Uncle Bill lost his wife March 24th, 1903, and Uncle Bill died July 24th, 1905. They are gone from us, but the memory of their devotion and usefulness remains behind for us to revere their memory. They are at rest from their labors now and the trials incident to this life, but we trust when the final roll is called up yonder we shall be with them and answer to the roll call on the right side.
Uncle Bill, by a former marriage, also had a daughter, who was named Virginia, adopted by Uncle Joe Spence and raised to womanhood by him and his good wife. She married Mr. George Finley and was the happy mother of quite a large family.
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CHAPTER XIV
CAPT. SHELTON.
This indomitable old settler was born in Ar- kansas on April 11th, 1823. In 1827, during the month of September, he made his pilgrimage to the land we love-Texas-and located where Rox- ton is now. At that time it was a frontier settle- ment, a sort of fortification was built there, so the families could live without danger of destruction by the Indians. The women and children stayed in the fort, while the men went out and worked, having pickets and spies ready to warn them if any of the marauding Indians should approach, so that they could hasten to the fort and be pre- pared to defend themselves. The place was then called Fort Shelton. A company of rangers was organized under the command of W. B. Stout. Capt. Shelton was a member of this company, though only a lad of about sixteen years. The fort was afterwards moved south of where Honey Grove is now after several battles with Indians, and Capt. Shelton served in the company of ran- gers nearly a year. He afterwards enlisted as a minute man in a company whose watchword was to be ready at a minute's notice to defend the home and lives of women and children. They had many exciting experiences with the Indians, who made a practice of stealing the white man's horses and a pony of Shelton's, one he thought a great deal of was one the Indians stole, and he never felt kindly to the Indians thereafter. A man by
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the name of Davis was killed about the time of the moving of the fort from Fort Shelton, and a great deal of skirmishing was done. Capt. Shel- ton was very well acquainted with Bailey English,
CAPT. ELI SHELTON AND WIFE, HIGH, TEXAS
father of Jo English, who married Capt. Shelton's sister, and so he was quite intimate with the gar- rison at Fort English, then a settlement located . where Bonham stands now. This fort was built
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of stout logs in which, at frequent intervals, were placed loopholes, enabling them to shoot any enemy that might approach. Our company of min- ute men was commanded by Capt. Jack Wilson, and many an Indian learned to his sorrow the ac- curacy of this company's aim, the rapidity of their action. They did not make many attacks on this fort, because they soon found out it was too disastrous to their braves and the Indians were glad to turn away from the dangers that attack- ing this fort resulted in to them.
The famous Davy Crockett came through this country on his way to the fort that has made Texas heroism and bravery the most famous in modern and ancient history. Fort Alamo is, and always will be, the synonym for deeds of bravery. His- tory does not record a greater evidence of fearless- ness and courage than that battlefield, and we do well revere their memory and extol their virtues for the battle for the glorious liberty which we hold so dear and has made our great State the admiration of every man, woman and child throughout the civilized world.
It was on the journey to the Alamo that Crock- ett camped at Honey Grove. He gave it the name it bears because he found such an abundance of honey. The name was cut in large letters on a chinguapin tree and has been so called from the time it was a grove on the prairies, until it has now grown to be quite a city.
In the minute men service Capt. Shelton had sev- eral encounters with Indians. There was not a great number in the company, but they were in- domitable fighters, and in every conflict there was
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many an Indian went to his happy hunting ground. On one of these occasions a famous Indian doctor was mortally wounded. He had in his possession a collection of Indian medicines and herbs, and a creek ran close to where the doctor was wounded and from which they named the creek Doctor's Creek, near where Cooper is today in Delta Coun- ty. Sherman was surveyed by a man by the name of Shannon. Pinhook was the name of the village where the city of Paris now stands. There was a store there run by George Wright. This was before there was a home of any kind in Honey Grove. Jonesborough, thirty-five miles northeast of Paris, was our nearest town, and there is where we purchased our supplies, paying for them with skins of animals killed by our trusty guns. Our animals were driven to market, sometimes to Jef- ferson, Texas, and from there shipped to New Orleans. And ofttimes it was advisable to drive them to Nebraska and Kansas, over the Chisholm trail, at great risk of loss from the Indians, and the cowboys had to sleep out on the prairies, al- ways in danger from panthers, wildcats, bears, etc. But they became inured to hardships and dangers, and were brave, honorable and industrious. They were frequently obliged to exercise the duty of guardians of the law and frequently were obliged to hang desperadoes and cattle thieves and depre- dators to rid the country of these undesirables. On one occasion a band of desperadoes, led by Jones Ray and some other white men who had con- spired to murder and assassinate, and had com- mitted a murder, were caught and speedily hung. Dr. Jewett, a pioneer from Missouri, was assassi-
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