USA > West Virginia > Braxton County > History of Braxton County and central West Virginia > Part 34
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After General Garnett was killed at Cheat river and the Confederates were retreating by a forced march through the mountains in the directions of Staunton, late one night, expecting any moment to be attacked by the Federals coming up from Piedmont or some point on the B. & O. railroad, the soldiers were almost exhausted, but were urged to march, on and keep perfect silence, when suddenly a soldier in the ranks started a song -- not such a song as might be heard in a public assembly, yet it was comical and his voice was strong and musical. As it rang out on that clear, cool night on the spurs of the Alle- ghenics, the soldiers were inspired by that song, forgetting they were tired; those who were half asleep, woke up; others who were straggling, marched on with renewed energy. Just then one of the general's staff officers came dash- ing back and inquired what soldier had sung that song. No one answered, and the officer said, "Tell him to sing it again." The soldier was Wesley Heater of Braxton county.
The writer had occasion one time to inquire of a lady at a wayside store, the road to a Mr. Bailey's residence. She said, "You can follow the railroad to the mouth of the next creek, then go up the creek to his place. This route is about three miles; or, you can go over the hill (pointing to a low gap in the ridge) where you will find a dim path leading over, and this will save you half the distance or more if you don't care to rough it." We said that we had been "roughing it" all our life, and as we possessed a kind of hog knowledge of the
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woods, we would try the hill route. We saw a twinkle come in the lady's eye and a smile on her face as-she said, "You will find mast all along the path." For pure wit, this is a gem that we have never seen equaled in any work we have read.
Uncle John Kaldrider, as he was familiarly called, was a blacksmith and loved a joke, but was uncompromising with a man who would get work done and refuse to pay for it. A Mr. living in the neighborhood, who was considered a noted liar, had on one pretext and another had become indebted to Kaldrider, and finally was refused further credit. So Mr.
had to go about two miles beyond Kaldrider's place to get his work done. Early one morning as Uncle John was standing in his shop door, Mr. came up the road and seemed in a great hurry, carrying a mattock on his shoulder. He said, "Good morning, Mr. Kaldrider, " and never halted. Mr. Kaldrider said, "Good morning, Mr. what's your hurry? Stop and tell us a good one this morning." "No time for stories this morning. Wm. Squires died last night, and I am going up to Corley to get my mattack fixed. I have to help dig the grave," and he kept going all the time. "Hold on," said Mr. Kaldrider, "if that is what you are going for, come in and I will fix your mattock, and it will save you all that walk and time, and
will cost you nothing." Mr. brought his mattock into the shop and Uncle John fixed it as quickly as possible; discussing with him Mr. Squires' sudden death and his many good qualities. When the work was com- pleted, Mr. started back as hurriedly as he had come. Mr. Kaldrider went to the field, caught his horse and notified his family of Mr. - Squires' death, hurrying down the creek to the Squires' residence to lend his presence and any assistance that he could to the bereft family. Immagine his surprise when he rode up to the house and saw Mr. Squires sitting on the front porch smoking his pipe, and looking across the creek to the far hillside he saw his friend grubbing with as much energy and haste as he displayed that morn- ing going to the shop. .
Colonel Addison Mclaughlin who was fond of cracking jokes, met Andrew P. Friend one public day at the courthouse and said to him, "There is no ac- count given in history, ancient or modern, where a miller has ever gone to heaven." This greatly amused the crowd which was standing around as Friend was the owner of a grist mill. Friend said, "I believe you are right, except in one instance. We learned of one miller who slipped through the gates, and the angels when they discovered him, thought to ptu him out, but the miller objected and inquired for counsel, and they told him there was not a lawyer in heaven." This greatly amused the crowd to see the joke turned on the Colonel.
Perhaps the greatest natural wit we had in the central part of the state was William M. Barnett. He was a soldier and lost a leg in the battle of Droop
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Mountain. Barnett had quite a family of half-grown boys and lived at Salt Lick bridge, and there was another family of boys by the name of Mick living there also. Mr. Mick was a miller, and his boys had some dogs and were fond of hunting opossums, quite often insisting upon the Barnett boys going with them. The father objected to thein going with the Mick boys, and he told them that the boys would keep all the game and not divide with them fairly; but this objection was met by the Mick boys agreeing to give them half of the fur caught.
Before they started on the hunt, Barnett told his boys to watch the Micks; that the only valuable fur on a 'possum was a little, very fine bunch on the tip of his tail, and that the Mick boys would be sure to steal that off; and the bal- ance of the fur would be no good. Everything being arranged, the boys gath- ered the dogs and sallied forth in quest of game and the prospect of making a few nickels. When they had gone far out into the forest, they heard the dogs give a yelp, and the boys broke for the dogs. The Mick boys being more active and more accustomed to the woods, were the first to arrive, and when the other boys came up the boys who had landed first had shaken a large fat 'possum from a bush, and were holding him up in triumph. When the Barnett boys, who had been cautioned to look for the bunch of valuable fur on the 'possum's tail, saw that its tail was smooth, they supposed that the Mick boys had stolen the valuable fur as their father had told them they would do. The Barnetts then immediately accused the Micks of bad faith and dishonesty, and the fight began. After the boys had exhausted themselves in a rough-and-tumble scrap, they returned in mute and sullen silence to their homes.
In an early day when goods to Webster Springs were hauled from Clarks- burg, by way of Sutton, and the Big Birch river, to Webster Springs, Dick Scott who kept goods at the ford of the Birch, was fond of playing pranks. Scott always kept some whiskey, and on one occasion Charles S. Evans and some other teamsters were going up the Birch loaded for Webster Courthouse. They wanted Scott to furnish them some whiskey but he refused, thinking they would take too much and be unable to drive over the rough roads. A mile or so above Scott's store, Charley Evans made out, while adjusting his harness with his hand resting on a log which lay by the roadside, that he was bitten by a snake. One of the teamsters ran down and told Scott that Evans was snake- bit. He no sooner heard this than he took a bottle of whiskey, and went in haste to administer to the relief of the suffering man. When Scott landed al- most out of breath with his whiskey, Evans was sitting by the roadside ap- parently in great agony, holding his hand. Scott gave him the bottle and told him to drink all he could. He took a good big drink and said he didn't believe he could drink any more, but Scott urged him to drink. He said, "Charley, you must drink it-you are just bound to drink it; and he urged him until he drank the whole pint of whiskey. After the excitement had died down, and they began to look for the snake and the marks on the hand, neither could be
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found. Evans said he felt better and that he believed that he was entirely eured. About that time Scott began to realize that he had met one who was able to play him at his own game.
William M. Barnett was captain in the general entrance and lobby depart- ment of the U. S. Pension office in Washington, D. C. He gave directions and information to visitors and persons having business with the various depart- ments of that great institution. We chanced to be present on one occasion when a stranger came in and inquired of Captain Barnett how he could find a certain chief of one of the divisions. Barnett pointed to one of the rooms in an upper story, and told the visitor to go up there and call for Mr.
The party started, went to the foot of the stairway, came back and asked the cap- tain would the official come out. "Oh, yes," said Barnett; "knock on the door and if he doesn't come out, butt your head against the door and 'holler' fire, and he'll come out." The party then appeared satisfied and went on his way.
One of the old settlers, never having seen a dish of fruit jellies or pre- serves, went one day to dine with one of his neighbors who had recently landed in the wilds of the forest, and as the cabins of the people stood far apart the social call of a neighbor was an hour of keen enjoyment, and awakened the proverbial hospitality of the settlers. When the puncheon table was spread, in addition to the bark tea, the Johnie cake and the bear meat, the hostess set a glass of preserves down which she had brought from her home in the East, more as a reminder of the sacrifices she had made to become a citizen of a new and wild country, and as a delicacy to be observed rather than to be eaten. But the social friendship being awakened by the occasion, the lady of the house insisted that the visitor try the preserves which he did very reluctantly. He placed a little on his plate and very cautiously tasted this strange dish. After he had convinced himself of its delicious flavor he said to the lady, "That stuff is damned good," and thereupon reached over, drew the glass to his place and consumed its contents. Doubtless this was the first glass of preserves ever con- sumed in that portion of central West Virginia now embraced in Braxton county. The man, either by a lack of civility or his inability to control his ap- petite, consumed the luxury of a whole county at one meal and brought all future social functions on a common level. We have often thought that many of his posterity are yet living.
One of the old settlers of Braxton, having some business at the Lewis county court, shouldered his old hunting rifle and started to the ex-seat of jus- tice. On his way he killed a wild turkey and carried it to town. He went to the old Bailey tavern and negotiated a deal for the turkey. He was to receive so much for his turkey in money, and in addition was to have his dinner. They eooked the fowl and had dinner prepared when the hunter came in and said he had a considerable distance to travel. It was a little too early for court to adjourn, and having transacted the business which brought him to town, he
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believed that if they would give him an early dinner he would start home. The request seemed so reasonable that they complied with it at once; and as the turkey was done and the gentleman was to have his dinner out of it they sat him down, placed the turkey near his plate and invited him to help him- self which he proceeded to do. As he was neither slow nor bashful, it is related, not as a romance but as a fact, that the old man cleaned that turkey up, and its skeleton had to be removed to the kitchen before the regular dinner was served. The hunter had the advantage of the contract, and the landlady was off her guard. The probabilities are that when he reached town he took a little grog which gave him an abnormal appetite, and he imagined himself in the solitude of the forest, sitting under his little bark shelter and enjoying a feast of wild game.
On one occasion, Mr. James Frame borrowed a few dollars in money from John Daly, promising to pay the money back. Some time having elapsed Mr. Daly told Mr. Frame that he had some work to do and that he could pay the borrowed money in work. "Oh, no," said Mr. Frame, "I can't pay that debt in work. It was borrowed money, and I can discharge the obligation only in money." The debt, we are told, was promptly paid in cash.
At another time, Mr. Frame was hard pressed, times were hard and money scarce. He went to Uriah Singleton's to get some work to do. Mr. Singleton knew his aversion for a tough proposition and said, "Yes, Jim, I want a few rails made, and I have heard you tell of your feats in railmaking. You go up on the ridge out in the pastnre field, cut one of those large oak trees stand- ing there, and split t into rails." Mr. Frame went up and chopped the tree down which had become tough and knotty by standing in the cleared land. He cut off one rail length and was using the maul vigorously when the horn blew for dinner. It was a hot June day, and as Mr. Frame approached the house immersed in perspiration and gasping from fresh air, Mr. Singleton said, "Well, Jim, how did you get along?" "Very well," said Jim in a tenor voice. "I cut the tree down, took off the butt cut, drove in all my wedges and I think it will be open by the time I get back. I left it in a powerful strain."
Uncle Christian Hyer was a noble Christian gentleman. He owned a farm and lived about a mile below where Shaversville now stands. Uncle "Chris" had several boys at home, and they were very jolly and fond of sport. They had a fondness for whiskey, but never indulged to any extent. The boys had acquired the habit of playing cards, without the knowledge of their parents. They would sometimes go coon-hunting and spend part of the night playing cards. On one occasion they had been out quite late, and when they came in they laid their deck of cards on the wall-plate of the house. In the night there came up quite a wind and rain storm. The wind caught the cards and scat- tered them in the yard. Captain Hyer in relating the incident, said that the yard was completely covered with cards. No two seemed to light in the same
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place. He said the morning, after the rain storm, was clear and bright, and when he called them in the morning the sun was shining through the cracks of the house. He said to them, "Boys, get up; it rained last night, and there was a powerful storm. It rained spades and clubs-the ground is covered-get 'up." . When they went down they realized how awful was their exposure, but their father said nothing. He called the family in, read a chapter and had family prayer. They ate breakfast, and he did not indicate by his manner that anything unusual had occurred. In after years he never referred to the great wind storm. The Captain said the boys gathered up their cards and committed them to the flames, and were so thoroughly disgusted with themselves that none of them in the long years after this incident occurred, had ever played another game of cards.
Frank Rhea, a colored man, making his first trip to the city, and not being familiar with the different modes of preparing beef steak, on being asked by the waitress how he would have his steak, done or rare, he said "Rare, madam, please," and when she brought the steak, it was raw and not to Frank's liking; and unwilling to forego the pleasure of a fine steak, handed it back and said, "Please, madam, rare it again, madam."
Many years prior to the Civil war when the country between Sutton and Summersville was very sparsely settled, the only stopping place between these points was at Colonel Brown's who kept hotel and store at the Big Birch river. Travelers going that way usually stopped at the Colonel's. His home was the half-way place between the points named, and the judge and lawyers from Weston going to the Nicholas court would make Sutton the first day, the second day would feed and take dinner at Colonel Brown's, then cross over the moun- tain and land in Summersville that night. Edwin S. Duncan with Judge Draper Camden, Matthew Edmiston and other lawyers from that town and other places as far distant as Clarksburg, practiced there, and in the courts of adjoining counties. Court coming on in Summersville, one of the lawyers from Weston had occasion to go a day in advance of the others, leaving the Judge and two or three lawyers to follow the next day. . He told the Colonel of some distinguished guests who would be at his house the following day for dinner; he also told him that the guests would want the most frugal meal that his hostlery could supply, and named the course. They ordered cold cornbread, the oldest that he had; the sourest buttermilk that could be obtained, and a raw onion. Nothing more, nothing less. The Colonel said he would fill the bill. His by-word was "I say, I say, I'll fill the bill." He immediately ordered a pone of cornbread baked, and the buttermilk and onion were always on hand. The cornbread had a day and night in which to cool and the crust to harden. The buttermilk had reached a state of fermentation. The onion being of the Dutch variety, every requirement had been fulfilled. About one o'clock the following day the distinguished guests rode up, cold and hungry. The Colonel had their
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mounts put away and fed. Dinner being announced, these half-famished legal lights hastencd to the kitchen where meals were served, the family having eaten. The lawyers sat down in silence. The Colonel eame into the room, in his most affable manner to keep them company, and to see how they would enjoy the meal. They tried the bread, sipped a little of the buttermilk, looked at the onion, and said, "Colonel, can't you do a little better than this?" The Colonel said, "I say, I say, I've filled the bill." They finished the meal in si- lence and ordered their mounts which had been well fed, paid the usual. hotel bill, and proceeded to cross the great mountain which lay before them, in mourn- ful silence. When they reached Summersville late that night, cold and hungry and were plied with questions, it dawned upon them that they had been the vic- tims of a joke.
This same Colonel Brown was a surveyor, and on one occasion he was called as a witness to testify with reference to some particular piece of road. When he was asked whether he knew this certain road he replied that he did as he had traveled the road a thousand times. The Judge, knowing the Colonel's candor and congenial temperament, said to him, "Colonel, isn't that a great many times for a man to travel one road?" The Colonel said, "I am the sur- veyor of Nicholas county, and I say Judge, I say, I have traveled that road a thousand times."
When General Rosecrans marched his army from Clarksburg through the country to Carnefix Ferry, he learned of Colonel Brown's knowledge of the country and sent for him, requesting him to make a map of the county roads and streams on which his army was operating. The Colonel told General Rose- crans that it would be endangering his life to do this as the country in which he lived was strongly Southern and subject to scouting parties from the Con- federate army. The General said he would fix that, and requested the Colonel to return home. He had not been long at home when a squad of soldiers came and pretended to make an arrest, and took him back to camp. He was pro- vided with a tent and all the material necessary with which to work, and a guard was placed at the tent door. In a few days the guard was removed and the Colonel went home, having made the map which was of great value to the army. Colonel Brown, in relating this incident to Captain William Kantner of the Federal army, said that his family and neighbors never suspected him of being a Union man. Colonel Brown lived and died, loved and respected by all who knew him.
Elem Mitchell, a Protestant Methodist minister, was in his belief an im- mersionist, and sometimes advocated that mode of baptism in his discourses. In one of his sermons, his subject led him to a discussion of the subject of bap- tism, and he concluded by declaring immersion to be the proper form. At the close of his discourse, a lady came forward bringing her infant child for bap- tism. The Rev. Mitchell said, "Brethren, while this is contrary to my belief,
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I don't know a better way to do away with a bad practice than to put it into use, and he baptised the child.
Many years ago there was a trial in Sutton of some parties living on the Little Kanawha river who had engaged in a kind of general battle. One of the witnesses stated that while the fight was going on in the yard some of the par- ties ran out of the house through a hole in the fireplace. One of the parties declared that he was wild and woolly and had never been curried. The idea of a hole in the fireplace large enough for a man to go through and the declara- tion that the man made in entering the melee greatly amused the court and jury.
Charles Mollohan was a fearless man of unusaul physical strength. On one occasion he had an execution against John Wyatt, and the only property owned by Wyatt was a gray mare which he locked up in his stable, and refused to deliver her to the Sheriff. Mollohan undertook to pry the door off the wooden hinges with a piece of timber, when Wyatt came out with an axe for battle. After. making some threats, he laid the axe down. Mollohan picked it up and said, "Why, John, this is the very thing I need," and proceeded to cut off the wooden hinges of the door. He took the mare to Squire Morrison's and put her in pasture, and it wasn't long before Wyatt paid the debt and redeemed his property.
On another occasion, he went to collect a deft off Mr. who was a very strong man, and a fighter. Mollohan found him at work in the field, and his coat laying close by. He picked up the coat and this very much en- raged the man who threw down his hat, and prepared for battle. The Sheriff picked up his hat also and laughing at the man's predicament, walked off with his hat and coat.
A Mr. Gillespie and his wife of Cedar creek were thought to be extremely low with grip and pneumonia. They were so poorly that the doctor said Mrs. Gillespie had no possible show for recovery. It happened that Johnson Car- penter came along and Mr. Gillespie asked him to take a basket of eggs to the store, saying that there might come a cold spell of weather and freeze them. Mrs. Gillespie also was anxious that he take the eggs, saying she was afraid the price would come down. When Carpenter reached the store, the merchant asked him how the sick people were, and whether Mrs. Gillespie were living yet. Said Johnson, "They are both going to get well." "Get well," said the store keeper, "Why, the doctor gave Mrs. Gillespie up to die. "I don't care," said Johnson, "Gillespie wanted to get to market before the freeze came, and Mrs. Gillespie wanted to strike the market before the price went down, so I am sure they will both get well." And in a few days, they were both up and going around. Carpenter had a way of arriving at a fact that beat the science of the doctor.
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Sometime in the nineties, Edward Lorentz kept a drug store in Sutton, and as he was eongenial and liked company, his store was a place where the men often gathered to pass away the time, and on one of these occasions they saw deaf James Perrine coming toward the drug store. Perrine was almost entirely deaf, and inordinately fond of whiskey. For many years he travelled over the country as a cobler, making and repairing shoes, fixing chairs, etc. They knew what he wanted, and some one said to Ed to give him a drink of aleohol which he proceeded to do. He poured out a tumbler full, a half-pint or more, not thinking he would drink very much of it, but to their astonishment he drank it all down and walked off. They soon became alarmed, thinking that amount of alcohol taken raw might prove fatal, but concluded to wait not knowing just what to do. It wasn't long, however, before they saw Perrine coming up street and coming into the drug store, he said, "Ed, have you any more of that, it's the most satisfyinest whiskey I ever drunk in my life."
Many years ago, John Knight who lived south of the Elk on Poplar Ridge, was very fond of coon hunting, and on one occasion the dogs treed a coon on a tall chestnut tree and Knight saw the coon hanging on a limb; so he proceeded to elimb the tree, taking the axe with him. His object was to cut the limb and let the coon fall, but he climbed out on the limb some distance from the body of the tree, and procceded to cut the limb off between himself and the tree, thus' precipitating himself, eoon and all. Knight had the good fortune, however, to lodge on a lower limb of the tree which broke the force of the fall. Whether he became excited when he climbed the tree or whether the shadows at night turned him around, he didn't explain, but we imagine the coon took advantage of the situation.
Cato, a colored man who blonged to Jolm D. Sutton, was very pious. He was a member of the M. E. Church, and Wm. D. Braxton was his class leader. When the Protestant church was organized, Cato without any letter or cere- mony joined, but still claimed to be a Methodist. He was called up to give an account of himself, and Mr. Baxter who was a very plain-spoken man, and the feeling between the two churches at that time was not the best, said, "Cato, what made you join the radical church?" and Cato said, "I wants to be in good favor with all the societies," so they had to let Cato continue to have a good deal of latitude, but that wasn't the only time that Unele Baxter, as we always called him, had to call on Cato for an explanation. Some one had killed a hog which belonged to old Unele Davy Frame, and they accused Cato of the aet so Uncle Baxter called him up for trial, and he said, "Cato, what did you kill Davy Frame's hog for?" "I didn't kill his hog, sir," said Cato. "Well, what is your mark?" "I marks with a crop on one ear, sir." "Well, what ear do you crop?" "I crops the ear next to the river, sir." This ended the trial, and Uncle Baxter had to restore Cato to fellowship in the church. Cato and Milly, his wife, lived to be old. They were well respected by the eom- munity, and were released in 1836 by the County Court from paying taxes.
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