USA > Texas > The evolution of a state, or, Recollections of old Texas days > Part 19
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The story of the Dawson massacre has been too often told in print to require a repetition here. There was, how- ever, one pathetic incident connected with it that I do not remember to have seen, and yet it should not be allowed to disappear from view. Old Zedic Woods, as he was familiarly called, was then living at LaGrange. He had fought with General Jackson at New Orleans and with the Texas army in the war for independence, and was get- ting well along in years when the Mexican invasion rallied young and old once more to do battle. Although his form had lost its vigor and his eye its keenness, his mar- tial spirit was undaunted and he was among the first to respond to Captain Dawson's call for volunteers. His family and friends tried to dissuade him from going, on account of his age.
"O, no!" said he, "I fought with General Jackson at New Orleans and with General Houston at San Jacinto, and I must give them one more chance at Old Zedic."
The old man and three sons joined the company. The father and two sons, Montroville and Norman, were killed,
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and Gonzalvo, the youngest, made his escape almost miraculously. As I was not there, I can only "tell the tale as 'twas told to me," but the story current at the time was that Gonzalvo's horse having been shot, a Mexican rushed upon him with a lance. Catching the lance, which was attached to the Mexican's wrist, he jerked his assail- ant to the ground, and himself mounting the Mexican's horse, dashed among the soldiers, yelling as loudly as any of them; and, having on a Spanish sombrero, he escaped detection amidst the confusion, and thus succeeded in get- ting through the Mexican line, and, once clear, having a good horse under him, he made good his escape.
Plum creek seemed to be a kind of haunted stream for me. It was at Plum creek where Early was murdered, and his horse, which brought me under suspicion of having committed the deed, was caught among a drove of mus- tangs, a full account of which is given elsewhere.
Some time after our narrow escape from the Indians at that ill-omened stream, I made arrangements with some parties from Bastrop to go out on the San Marcos and buy land, it being our intention to build a mill there. Mills had been a hobby of mine from the time I could remember. I started out from Webber's prairie alone, expecting to fall in with the balance of the party at Cedar creek. I was too late, however, and, thinking I might overtake them, I kept on to Plum creek, where night overtook me and I concluded to camp. The Indians, though still hostile, were confining their operation principally to prowling around the frontier settlements in small parties, but I took the precaution to turn off the road after crossing the creek, going some little distance up the stream. Feeling little apprehension of danger, I unsaddled my horse and staked him out, and, spreading down my blankets, lay down and was just beginning to doze when I heard an owl hoot a little
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way below, answered at a short interval by one above, and then another in another direction. I didn't wait to see whether it was owls or Indians, but just saddled my horse and struck out at a lively canter, nor drew rein till I reached the San Marcos, where I found my friends. Our land speculation fell through for want of title by the party holding it. I bargained for a hundred acres, includ- ing the site where General Burleson and Firebaugh after- ward built a mill, for which I was to pay two dollars an acre, only one-half of it being cash; the other half was rep- resented by a horse. I would like to know what the land is worth at present. There was not then a single settler on the old San Antonio road between Cedar creek and San Antonio.
As the Indian incursions gradually ceased settlers began to move out, but I was never out that way after it became settled. I may be somewhat at fault in locating some of the scenes and incidents in these sketches. Your newfangled maps, all bisected with railroads, throw me off my bear- ings. If I could get hold of one of those old Texas almanac maps, issued away back before the war, showing the wagon roads and crossings, I would know exactly where I was "at."
And speaking of "crossings" reminds me of a laughable story Jake Harrell used to tell on one of the old pioneers. The old man was one of a party of explorers that went out to look at the country along Onion creek. On his re- turn his friends all gathered in to hear his report, which I give verbatim, as nearly as I can make the English alphabet answer to it.
Said he: "Low down on Ingern creek, down about the Sasser crossin', there's as fine sile as ever was seen on the face of the yearth, but high up on Ingern it's a nasty, rocky country, just precept upon precept."
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Saucer crossing got its name from a saucer containing bee bait, which had been set on a stump at the crossing by some early explorer and left there. It is on the road leading from Austin to San Antonio, and may be known by that name still for aught I know. The first set- tler there was one of old Joe Burleson's sons, known as "Hopping" John on account of a lameness. Others of the early settlers on Onion creek were the Soul and Baker families.
Just above the mouth of the creek on the west side of the Colorado was located old Bobby Mitchell, who, hav- ing been the first settler, gave name to the locality, which was designated Mitchell's Bend. Uncle Bobby had his own troubles. He had an old trusted horse, John, which had long eluded the Indians, but one day old John made the acquaintance of a band of mustangs, and, being of a sociable disposition, concluded to take up his abode with them. The old man went out to hunt up John and found him, but the mustangs sped away like the wind, leaving old John far in the rear. Mitchell was riding a very good horse and gave chase. He swore he wanted to kill old John when he kicked up his heels and rushed away as wild as any of the band. His old joints were too stiff to keep pace with them, though he did his level best, and "fairly grunted" in his efforts to get away from his pursuer Mitchell was very solicitous for the welfare of his animals, and would not see any of them hurt if he could help it. On one occasion he was out looking after his hogs, when his dogs, which always accompanied him, treed a panther. He shot the panther, wounding it, when it sprang upon the two dogs, which were unable to handle it. There was no time to load his gun; the enraged panther seized one of the dogs, and, lying on its back, proceeded to tear its victim with its hind feet. Mitchell jumped upon the
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panther's tail, thus holding its claws back till the dogs dispatched it.
Just across the river from Mitchell's Bend was Reuben Hornsby's place, which was the first settlement made above Bastrop. The family, consisting of Reuben, senior, and wife, Aunt Sallie; their six sons: William, Malcom, Reuben, Joseph, Daniel and Thomas, and one daughter. With them came Smith Hornsby, a brother of the elder Reuben. He was accidentally killed by one of his own party in an Indian fight. The Hornsbys built themselves a strong fort, which was several times attacked, but never carried. When there were no men on hand to defend it, Aunt Sallie was equal to the task. A party of Indians once made a demonstration of attack when all the men happened to be away. There were several families stop- ping in the fort, and Aunt Sallie mustered the women and, commanding them to don male attire, armed them with broom sticks and sallied forth. The Indians, sur- prised to find the place so well garrisoned, took to their heels, leaving Aunt Sallie and her broomstick brigade in undisputed possession. To Reuben and Sallie Hornsby and their bold and hardy sons the country owes a debt which it can never repay. Pitching their camp in the very gateway of the Indian country, they not only main- tained their position, but opened their doors to all who chose to avail themselves of their hospitality. Thither in times of peril other families repaired for safety, and, if they needed it, more substantial aid was generously given.
There was another brother of the old man's, Thomas, who came on later. He was a good natured, simple soul ; but, not having had the advantages of education to aid a naturally studious mind, he evolved some amusing ideas. He and I were out in camp together, when he fell to talk-
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ing about the motions of the earth, while we sat around the camp fire after supper.
"Talk about the earth turning over every twenty-four hours," said he, "why, I can convince any man on earth that's got a particle of sense in five minutes that that's all nonsense."
Surprised and curious to hear his formula, I replied :
"If you can do that, Uncle Tommy, your fortune's made."
He got up and cut three stakes, then, pointing to the polar star, he said :
"That's the north star, ain't it?" I agreed that it was. He then set his three stakes in a line with the star.
"There now; you may get up at any time of the night and look at those stakes and you'll find them still in line. That ought to convince anybody that the earth doesn't move."
I knew it was useless to argue the question, so I acknowl- edged that the proof was convincing.
One other short story I wish to add to the long chapter of Indian outrages, and then we will pass on to another phase of the troubles of the settlers.
It was in 1840 that a little party of men went out to Brushy to kill buffalo. Claiborne Orsburn, a lad of 18, was left to bring up the pack animals while the men killed the game. There were a couple of Indians on the watch and, as soon as the men became engaged with the buffalo, they ran upon Claiborne, shooting his horse and then clubbing him over the head with a gun. Hearing the shots, the other members of the party hurried back to the rescue. Orsburn was stunned by the blow and his assail- ants, supposing him dead, scalped him. The flow of blood restored him to consciousness; but, hearing the Indians talking, he lay perfectly still for a few moments. He said
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they seemed to be disputing about the possession of the scalp, and, there being a double crown curl on his head, were apparently discussing the propriety of availing them- selves of the remaining one to settle the dispute. Clai- borne didn't relish that; so, taking advantage of their momentary distraction, he sprang to his feet, and, at the same instant perceiving Alec Hamilton galloping to his relief, ran to meet him. The Indians made off and, meet- ing Hamilton, Orsburn's first words were .:
"They've cut my head ; have they scalped me?"
His companions bound up his head with wet handker- chiefs and brought him to my house, where my wife dressed the wound, which was small, and soon healed over. Claiborne lived to a good old age, raising a large family ; dying at his home in Bastrop County, March 6th, 1899.
CHAPTER XX.
Though there had not been a tree felled anywhere in the vicinity of the city of Austin prior to the location of the capital there, as soon as the seat of government was established in the new log cabins provided for its recep- tion, people began to gather about it; by far the larger portion outside of official circles being lawyers and gam- blers.
The wholesale issue of bogus land certificates, together with numerous other irregularities in the land business of the colonial period were a prolific source of litigation, offer- ing a fertile field for legal talent ; and thither, accordingly, came lawyers of all grades, including some of the best in the United States. Among the latter, none ranked higher than William H. Jack, or, as he was commonly called, Bill Jack, and the latter name seems the more appropriate as it is suggestive of strength, which was characteristic of the man. With him were associated his two brothers,
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Patrick and Spencer, all lawyers, natives of Alabama. Barrie Gillespie, also of Alabama, was early in the field, as were Judge Webb, Judge Lee, Sneed and Oldham, George W. Paschal, and, a little later, A. J. Hamilton, William P. Duval (ex-governor of Florida), John Hancock, and perhaps others.
Captain Jacob Harrell, at the lower end of Congress avenue, and Bullock, further up, dispensed the hospitality of the city to the stranger within the gates. The first two men to venture into the mercantile line were Martin Moore and Blessin, both Irish. Michael Ziller started it with a junk shop, gradually enlarging his business until it be- came too large for the modest quarters in which he began. The indefatigable Ziller then set to work, and, with only such assistance as was absolutely necessary, himself quar- ried, hauled and prepared stone, with which he erected the first stone building in the city.
Lamar Moore put up the first brick building, on the corner of Congress avenue and Pecan street, in which he carried on a general merchandise business until his death. Dietrich & Horst opened the first meat market; Dietrich subsequently retiring to open a dry goods store with George Hancock.
Austin was an exceedingly healthy location, hence poor pickings for medicos, the fraternity being represented by Drs. Cook, Johnson and Chalmers, with old Dr. Anderson of Webber's Prairie to fall back on in critical cases. Nor must "Old King Cole, the jolly old soul," be omitted. Being flat broke and afflicted with an ulcer on his leg when he struck Austin. a friend set him up in the whisky busi- ness with a half barrel for a starter. His kindly disposition soon won him friends and his business thrived apace, enabling him to open the first decent saloon in town. The militiamen made Cole's place their favorite resort and
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often made the walls ring with the song, "Old King Cole is a Jolly Old Soul." Being also headquarters for the gentlemen of the green cloth, who are notoriously gen- erous while luck runs in their favor, it came to be the regular thing for all schemes of a benevolent nature to be carried first to Cole, who unhesitatingly took charge of them and, heading the list with a generous donation, laid for the sports and, whenever one made a winning, struck him for a subscription, which was collected on the spot. Having acquired a comfortable fortune, he sold out his business and, turning country gentleman, procured a piece of land above the city on the Colorado, where he estab- lished himself in a bachelor's hall and was still there the last I knew of him.
Another noted character associated with the republic was Thomas William Ward, otherwise known as Peg Leg Ward, he having given his right leg for the freedom of Texas in the taking of San Antonio in 1835. In consider- ation of his patriotism he was made commissioner of the land office. Later, while engaged in firing a salute on some state occasion, the cannon was prematurely dis- charged, depriving the luckless Ward of his right arm and right eye. He then set to and learned to write with his left hand and by the time he recovered sufficiently to resume his official duties could write a respectable hand. People honored him for his indomitable courage as well as his patriotism, and he was allowed to continue in office. John Nolan, a brother Irishman, of whom I shall have occasion to speak again, was rather jealous of Ward's pop- ularity. "Yes," said he, "he is a great man now, but when I knew him in New Orleans he was shovin' a jack plane while I was a gintleman marchant."
It often happened that legal acumen cut a small figure in the decision of cases. John Anderson, a son of Dr.
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Anderson, was reading law in the office of Barrie Gillespie. He said they once had a client in a dispute over a land title. Gillespie took the client aside and asked: "What can you prove?"
"By -, sir, that's not the question ; what do you want proved? My witnesses are here," was the reply. The lawyers for the other side, being made aware of the state of the case, advised their client to compromise, a piece of advice he accepted, thereby saving himself a goodly sum in the way of costs.
Old Ziller had some very practical views on the dispen- sation of justice. He, with characteristic generosity, had taken in a destitute fellow countryman and was rewarded for his kindness by being robbed by his protege. I give the story in his own words.
"I go way and leave him to keep my store. When I come back all my money and some my goods gone. I go to Judge Johnson and tell him I want one paper for catch ze d-d scoundrel. Ze judge make out ze paper and I say, 'Where is ze constabler?' He say, 'I make you ze con- stabler, Captain Ziller.' I take ze paper and go after ze tief. I catch him at Walnut Creek. I get all my goods and zen I tie him to a tree and give him one d-d good whipping. I turn him loose and go home. I go see Judge Johnson. He say, 'W'at you do mit him?' 'I tie him to one tree and give him one d-d good whipping,' I say. 'O, well,' he say, 'You make one very good constabler, Captain Ziller.'"
In those days and for many long years thereafter goods for all the upper Colorado were brought from Houston by ox-teams ; slow transports under the most favorable cir- cumstances, and when the rain transformed the black soil into vast beds of wax, they were sometimes several weeks on the trip. Old Ziller had sent by the Thompson boys,
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who were regular teamsters, for a barrel of whisky. The rain retarded their progress, the whisky in the meantime getting rather "wet." Ziller was wrathy when he discov- ered the damage to his goods, giving vent to his feelings in the following language: "G- - n dem Thompson boy ; he pull all ze whisky out of my barrel and fill him wis water."
A genial, entertaining old fellow was William P. Duval, ex-governor of Florida. Possessed of an inexhaustible store of anecdotes, gathered from the varied experience of a long life, with the characteristic genius of the French- man for story telling, his appearance in public was a signal for all the lovers of good stories to assemble around him. In recounting his experience in Florida during the four years in which he was the head of the territorial govern- ment, he averred that, "if he went to hell when he died and the authorities who presided over that institution did not give him credit for those four years, he should always think they did him an injustice."
The gubernatorial mansion was a pine log cabin located on a low sandy flat, destitute of vegetation. The air was alive with mosquitoes, and the sun, beating down with almost tropical fierceness upon the thin pine board roof, gave to the situation an atmosphere as nearly resembling that ascribed to the infernal regions as anything he could imagine. Thomas H. Duval, his son, was our third dis- trict judge, Mills and Baylor having preceded him.
It was about 1840 or 1841 that T. J. Chambers laid claim to four leagues of land on the west side of the Colo- rado opposite Bastrop, on which my mother-in-law, the Widow Blakey, the Hemphills, old Colonel Knight and a number of others had located headrights. Chambers was appointed judge by the Mexican government and he ad- vanced a modest claim for forty leagues of land in com-
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pensation for his services, though he never held a term of court. His claim may have been just, that is to say legal, for anything the trial of the case developed to the contrary, but there certainly was an element of injustice, especially in the case of Mrs. Blakey, who had given two sons to die in the defense of the country and then was threatened with the loss of her home.
Having then no son old enough to attend to her busi- ness, Mother Blakey made me her agent. I went around to the other interested parties and proposed to them to all go in together and fight the claim before the courts. This they agreed to do. Without loss of time I retained Bill Jack and Judge Webb to conduct the defense, but when I called on the balance of the defendants for their share of the retainer's fee they hung back, saying that one case would decide all. Disgusted with the desertion of our natural allies, I went to Mrs. Blakey and, acquainting her with the situation, advised her to compromise with Cham- bers. Being empowered to act according to my judg- ment, I went to Chambers and, stating the case, asked what terms he would make. Chambers was gentlemanly and affable and a likeable fellow, withal. Said he : "I have no wish to rob the widow and orphan; but, if I relinquish my claim in her instance, it will weaken it in the others. If Mrs. Blakey will accept a deed to half her headright -4,400 acres-she can then raise her certificate and relo- cate the whole amount." To this we assented, and the family thus saved their homestead. When the other parties heard of the compromise they came post haste to know why we didn't go on with the suit. I told them to go ahead and get all their claim if they could, we would take what we could make sure of. They went on and lost the case and had to buy their land from Chambers. They made a big mistake in not standing by us, as it would
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have been hard to find a jury to dispossess Mrs. Blakey, whom everyone knew; at least from character. Lemuel, her second son, was one of the seven heroes whose ashes are mingled with the historic dust of San Jacinto, and her eldest son, Edward, lost his life in the battle with the In- dians at Brushy.
As to the rights of T. J. Chambers, he could at least advance the claim of being one among the first Americans to pitch his tent in the wilderness, and, having been ap- pointed surveyor-general for the colonies, it was quite reasonable to suppose that he would select the most de- sirable locations obtainable on which to lay his certificates. But there were those who came to the state after its an- nexation and bought up or manufactured old Spanish grants, and, with witnesses made to order, robbed the old pioneers of their hard earned homes. Judge Lucket, who lived below Austin, once asked me: "Do you know where that old Spanish mission on the San Gabriel is?" I told him I did. Said he: "Colonel Snively will give any man a league of land to show him that old mission." I began to smell a rat. "And what does he want to find it for?" I asked. "Why, he has a grant for thirty leagues of land cornering on that old mission." The situation flashed over me like fire. I was at that time located on Brushy creek, some ten miles above its confluence with the San Gabriel at which point were the remains of an ancient mission built by the old Spanish missionaries away back in the seventeenth century. There was nothing left of it but a kind of mound, preserving the size and shape of the building, which, being of adobe, had succumbed to the in- fluence of the rain, or perhaps an inundation, so long ago that goodly sized trees had grown up from the ruins.
Without stopping to inquire how the grant was to be run, I thought of the numbers of families who had by the
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time settled in that section and hewed themselves homes out of the wilderness. Said I, "I can show Colonel Snively the old mission, but if he comes fooling around out there with his thirty-league grant we'll establish a permanent corner for hint on some convenient tree." The community indorsed my sentiments and that was the last I ever heard from Colonel Snively's thirty-league grant.
There was still another class of land sharks who vic- timized those who through ignorance of the law had not exactly complied with its requirements. These lynx-eyed land grabbers had their emissaries in the land office and whenever a flaw was discovered in a settler's title they had certificates ready to file on the land, thus compelling the settler to buy the land from them or lose his im- provements. And often there was no flaw, but these un- scrupulous villains would persuade the holder that there was, offering to make the settler a deed to the land if he would lift his certificate and transfer it to them. By this means they came into possession of many genuine cer- tificates in exchange for lands to which they had no title whatever. As almost all public service was at first paid in land warrants, there were, of course, thousands of theni in circulation, and whenever one was located on land claimed by another the locator had the privilege of "lift- ing" his certificate and laying it elsewhere, a process which of itself was productive of much confusion. The honest settlers at last reached the limit of endurance and began to talk shotgun and hemp. A noted land pirate, who operated all over the state, discovered a flaw in the title by which the settlers along Oatmeal creek held their land and promptly notified them of the fact; also that he had located the land. The settlers held a meeting and passed a resolution breathing strongly of powder, I being present though not an interested party. I shortly after-
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