Fisher's River - Charters X-XV



Page 165

X.--JOHN SENTER.
   AT the mere mention of the name of John Senter I am carried in a moment 
to a little farm near the head of Little Fisher's River, upon which 
Fisher's Peak looks down with awful grandeur and majesty. This little farm 
is divided by the river, narrow strips of bottom land on each side, and 
then come in abrupt, steep hills. John Senter inherited this isolated 
piece of "yeth" from his good old father, Zack Senter. In a little cabin 
on the side of a steep laurel-hill (and a hill there is a hill), on the 
west side of the river, lives my friend John Senter, of happy memory. I 
defy any man to forget the place, or the man who owns it, after a view of 
both.

   When I saw my friend's cabin in 1857, I took it to be in size about ten 
feet by eighteen; the board roof was fastened on by "weight-poles," 
somewhat after the Indian fashion; no "loft" in it; puncheon floor, 

Page 166

split out of trees with his own hands; chimney made of sticks and clay; 
two or three log joists extended across, not above my head, but above the 
head of John and family, for they were "short stock." On these joists were 
hung, by way of ornament probably, and certainly for profit, some 
"'possum" skins and "'coon" skins, and some other fur skins too tedious to 
mention. I was not much pleased with their perfume, but bore for half an 
hour what they did all the time. The door, on the down-hill side of the 
"house," was sufficiently high to admit a reasonably tall man without 
stooping; but that door was not allowed to be used then, for the "lower 
yard," up to the door, was a fine green Irish potato patch. A little path 
led me through a patch of rye to the "upper yard," which was about three 
feet wide of level ground, and this narrow yard was dug out of the side of 
the hill. I halted, and my head was above the eave of the house. I stooped 
down to look for the door, and, behold, it was there, about four and a 
half feet high--not an inch higher. I saw John's good wife, Hollin, 
daughter of 

Page 167

Oliver Stanley, of "whale" and "bar" memory, busily engaged in sewing, 
when the following salutations were passed in primitive style:

   "How do you do, Mrs. Senter?" I asked.

   "Lausyday, Hardy! is that you? I hearn you had come back to see yer old 
stompin ground. Come in."

   "Thank you," I replied; "I will if I can get in."

   "Stoop low, and you'll come it."

   I obeyed, went in, but was greatly disappointed in not seeing my old 
friend John. Upon inquiry, I found he had gone out that day "harvestin'." 
My object was two-fold: to see my old friend John and family, and to get 
one of his wooden-bottomed shoes to take into my section as a curiosity to 
proud, spendthrift, "fast" young cocksparrows, and to ultimately deposit 
it in some college as a monument to John's genius and economy, and a 
wonder to all beholders. He had invented and worn them before I left that 
section in 1829, and I wished to know whether he wore them still.

   "Mrs. Senter," I inquired, "does John 

Page 168

wear his wooden-bottomed shoes nowadays?"

   "Lausy, yes; he couldn't live 'thout 'um. He made me wear 'um for two 
long, tejus years; but they was so nation heavy I told him, right 
flatfooted, I'd go barfooted afore I'd wear 'um, both summer and winter, 
through frost and snow, heat and cold. Him and Sol and Zack (his sons) 
wear 'um still, and will, I reckon, long as thar heads is above the yeth, 
and I wouldn't be s'prised ef the ole man had his'n buried with him."

   "Did he wear them off to-day?"

   "No, not him; he went barfooted."

   "Over the rocks, and in the briers of the harvest-field?"

   "Shucks! his feet is tough as grissle."

   "Will you be so kind as to let me look at them?"

   "Sartinly; but they're mighty odd-looking critters--jist like the old 
man, though."

   Kind Hollin went to a bed, brought them out, and threw them down before 
me. "Take care," said she, "else they'll mash yer toes inter mince-meat."

   The admonition was a timely and a benevolent 

Page 169

one, as the reader will see by the description. The bottoms were made of 
"dog-wood," and where they were not much worn they were an inch and a half 
thick. In the heels were driven several large nails, resembling horse-shoe 
nails, of his own make, also one large nail on the side of the bottom, at 
the "ball" of the foot, to answer the two-fold purpose of giving the shoe 
some spring or elasticity, and to keep him from slipping on the mud, snow, 
or ice. The vamps were made of tanned hogskin, kept soft somewhat by 
"'possum grease. The quarters were cowleather tanned in a log trough. Then 
there were leggins of tanned buckskin tacked on to the quarters, that came 
up the leg, to keep out snow in winter, and to ward off snakes in summer 
when he went hunting, and were laced up with "whangs." The leather was 
tacked on to the wooden bottoms with tacks--nails, rather--of his own 
making. He was too much of an economist to "buy tacks out'n the cussed 
stores."

   I was anxious to procure one from Hollin, but could not, as the reader 
will learn from the following brief dialogue:

Page 170

   "Mrs. Senter," I inquired, "can I get one of these shoes for love or 
money? Set your own price on it, and the money shall be forthcoming."

   "That I won't! I know the ole man too well fur that. I mout as well, 
and better too, sell his Sunday furred hat. Come agin and see him; he mout 
let you hev one."

   "It will be out of my power; I must return in a day or two," said I.

   "Well, I knows what's what."

   Next day I sent 'Squire West Freeman, and he, by paying pretty dearly 
for it, procured me one. Should any one wish to see said shoe, he can find 
it labeled "A Fisher's River (North Carolina) Dancing Pump," and deposited 
among the many curiosities--and the greatest curiosity of them all--of the 
East Alabama Baptist Female College, Tuskegee, Alabama.

   But this cabin and this eccentric wooden-bottomed shoe have led me 
astray. I must return, and give the reader some further "insight" of 
friend John.

   John Senter is about five feet seven inches high, round-shouldered, so 
much so that he 

Page 171

crosses his "galluses" (leather) before and behind to keep his "britches" 
on him, very thin visaged, yellow "pumpkin" skin, tough and wrinkled. His 
eyes are small and scowling. His features are hard and rigid, indicative 
of spleen and general suspicion. His beard is long, full of dirt and 
"swingle-tow" (he is a good hand to break and clean flax). His movements 
are irregular, sometimes rapid, then slow and thoughtful. His impulses 
govern his movements in his own person and in his intercourse with others. 
His dress is equal in eccentricity to his looks, conversation, and 
movements. His summer hat is either wheat, rye, or oat straw, of his own 
manufacture invariably. His winter hat is wool, bought from the hatter 
with lambs' wool. His "Sunday go-to-meetin' " hat is an old-fashioned, 
smooth, bell-crowned fur hat -- his wedding hat, doubtless--which was 
purchased with 'coon, rabbit, mink, and musk-rat skins. His every-day coat 
was a "round-about," striped round like a "'coon's" tail. For Sunday and a 
"go-abroad" coat he wore a striped cotton, sharped, long, swallow-tailed 
coat. 

Page 172

In winter he wore "britches" of tanned sheepskin. His "jacket" was striped 
Turkey red cotton. His shirt was tow and flax, with the collar so long 
that it hung down on his shoulders like the cape of an old-fashioned "big 
coat." His shoes have been already described.

THE TRIAL.
   John was very fond of litigation. With him "to be in law" was no small 
idea. His splenetic nature naturally inclined him that way. Such was his 
fondness for law and of his attendance upon justice's court, that 'Squire 
Freeman's wife would not consent for "court" to be held in her house. She 
had two potent reasons: first, all the litigants begaumed her house with 
tobacco-juice; and, second, John's wooden-bottomed shoes, with their horse-
shoe nails, made a marked impression on it. The "'squire," therefore, held 
"court" in the cook-house. I went into said "kitchen" to see the havoc 
John had made of the floor with his shoes, and it was as if a fresh-shod 
horse, or mule, rather, had been stabled in it.

Page 173

   To show you John's fondness for law, I will give you one instance in 
proof. He once sued Ben Carson on the following items, and had a regular 
trial:

Item 1. One half gallon soap-grease. 
Item 2. One half pint salt. 
Item 3. One half gallon sifted meal. 
Item 4. Three plants of tobacco. 

   Poor Ben was "cast," and 'Squire Freeman rendered judgment in John's 
favor.

THE WEDDING.
   The marriage relation is the most time-honored institution in the 
world, and God, by making it the first, has sufficiently demonstrated its 
utility. It has withstood the rude and cunning assaults of base men and 
disorganizers in all ages. It has been honored in all nations from the 
king down to the rudest peasant. In the region of which I am treating they 
strictly obeyed the injunction, "Multiply and replenish the earth," as 
though it was "the first commandment with promise." They were unlike the 
disobedient young people of this age, who wait till they make a fortune 
before they marry; they, like 

Page 174

sensible folks, married first, "and scuffled for their fortins 
arterwards." Now who can blame their course?

   Now and then we see a hopeless case--one whom we think never can marry. 
Nature, in her sovereignty, has denied such persons beauty, talents, and 
wealth. Their chances for "holy wedlock" would be bad in some cruel, 
fastidious sections; not so in that section where Nature holds her sway 
without the artificial wants and rules of "refinement." All marry there, 
whether they have beauty, talents, or wealth. There appears to be a sort 
of happy destiny, in this respect, for them all. They may be shapped like 
fat-stands or look like toys, it is all the same, they marry.

   Of course, John Senter's children must not be an exception--they must 
marry. Now it came to pass that his son Sol took it into his head to 
marry. Dwarfish-looking and crippled as he was, he came to the rational 
conclusion, "It is not good for man to be alone," in a section, too, where 
marrying was so popular and fashionable.

   It was not difficult for him to find a person 

Page 175

of like feeling in Sally Spencer, daughter of Polly Spencer, who lived in 
the face of the Blue Ridge, near the Blaze Spur. In addition to their warm 
affection for each other, an accident to each one had increased their 
attachment. Sol had had a white-swelling in his right leg, which had lamed 
him for life, and Sally's left leg had been broken, which made her equally 
lame. It looked like a bad chance for a support, for, in addition to these 
mishaps, they were as poor as "Job's turkey." But they loved each other, 
and were willing to link their destiny together, and "take one another 
better fur wusser and wusser fur better," in the graphic language of Bob 
Snipes, who shall tell the story of their wedding. Said Bob Snipes is a 
plain-spoken fellow, and tells stories in his own way.

   "Now I was a-workin' fur 'Squire Freeman one flinderin hot day," said 
Bob, "and who should I see but Sol Senter come hop-a-kickin' along over 
the plowed yeth, through the cornfield, throwin' his game leg around like 
a reap-hook, and when he come up to the 'squire and me he was sweatin' 
like a 

Page 176

coal-kill. Says I, 'Sol, don't knock down all the corn with that reap-hook 
leg o' yourn.' He nuver said a word to me, but buckled up to the 'squire, 
like a little dog does to a big one when he wants to show out, and, says 
he,

   " ''Squire, I's come to swap work with you. Times is so hard, and I 
want's to work a day or two fur you to go as fur as dad's to marry me. I 
won't ax you to go as fur as Sally's house, which you know is three miles 
above dad's; but jist go to dad's, and I'll go and fetch Sally down thar. 
It shall never be said that Sol Senter got 'Squire Freeman to marry him 
fur nothin', and it mout be swappin' work mout do jist as well.'

   "When Sol eended his speech, he looked 'mazin' anxious to hear what the 
'squire'd say. The 'squire was a monstrous 'commerdatin' man, and, says 
he, 'Good as wheat in the mill-hopper, Sol; work for me a day, and keep up 
with Bob Snipes' (here the 'squire gin me the wink), 'and I'll go.'

   "I'll be dinged ef, when the 'squire said that, Sol didn't look as big 
as Nibuchadneezer and as rich as Festus; and, thinks I, 

Page 177

'Ef you keep up with me (I was a-hoein' corn), you'll not be fit to marry 
('twas orful hot) soon.'

   "The little feller catched holt of a hoe, and at it we went like a 
whirlygust uv wood-peckers. I tell you the train-ile streamed out'n both 
on us; but Sol buckled up ter me like a man. The thoughts o' marryin' 
steamed him up like a blowed-up bladder. It's anuff to say that we went it 
like blazes fur a whole day, and nuver did the 'squire have as many weeds 
killed in one day by two mortals, and one on 'um a little gameleg, taller-
face, ill-begotten, turkey-trotten' creetur.

   "The work over, Sol he fixed his day, and axed me to his weddin', to 
come with the 'squire. Says he, 'Come, and as I've showed you how I kin 
work, I'll show yer how I kin marry too; and I'll show yer the purtyest 
gal in the whole face uv the Blue Ridge, ur in any o' the knobs around 
about.'

   " 'Look out fur me,' says I, 'fur Bob Snipes nuver takes a banter from 
no one, man nur 'omun.'

   "The 'squire and me started tolluble 

Page 178

yearly one mornin', intendin' to take ur time fur it in the cool uv the 
day. We had to walk, fur narry a man on God's green yeth could git to John 
Senter's a hossback, it is so shot up with hills and blocked wid fences. 
We tuck right up Little Fish Roover (the 'squire lives on it, well as 
John) till we come to whar Maid Holder was a-plowin', and ding my skin ef 
he warn't a-plowin' in his shirt-tail, 'thout anuther thing on him, 
'ceptin' his old greasy wool hat. Says Maid,

   "'Give an account of yerselves. Whar's yer pass? What you trespassin' 
on my deadnin' fur? Whar you moseyin' to? Bob Snipes, what you dressed up 
in the week fur fine as the 'squire? Speak, else I'll larrup you both.'

   "We had to satisfy the outdacious varmunt, and axed him to go with us. 
Says he, 'I'll go, ef you'll jist let me go as I am.' 'In yer shirt-tail?' 
says I. 'Yes,' says he. 'Not I, long as yer shirt-tail is,' says I; and it 
was one uv the most onconcionable long shirt-tails I uver seen. It come 
down a long gap below his knees.

Page 179

   "We left Maid gee-hawin' away, and piked on to John's. We went in, and 
thar sot John on a short-legged stool in the chimbly corner, lookin' fur 
all the world like a man that had got out'n his bed wrong eend foremost 
that mornin'. He was sulky and ashy, I tell you. He hardly axed us to set 
down. The 'squire kep' axin' John questions, to try to git him to spill 
some words, but his jaws were locked, as it were. Hollin and his darter 
was a-fixin' away, sorter like they was glad, but uvry now and then John 
kep' flingin' out some uv his slang at 'um 'fur fixin' so much fur them 
crippled creeturs, that had 'bout as much business a-marryin' as two 
'possums.'

   "The 'squire he made him hush his foul jaw, but he sot watchin' Hollin 
and the little darter, and got madder and madder, swellin' like a 
bullfrog. Last he riz right smack up, and, says he, 'I wouldn't be a-
fixin' so much fur a couple uv ground-hogs, heffer-on-my-haslit ef I 
would.' He looked like he could a made a meal out'n a kag uv tenpenny 
nails, fur all the world.

   "He then moseyed off to a bed, and 

Page 180

drawed out from under it a whoppin' big gourd, with a great big corn-cob 
stopper in it. He sot it on the table, got a pewter cup, pulled out the 
stopper, and 'chug' it went as it come out. I soon larned from the smell 
on it that it was apple brandy, and white-faced at that. He poured out a 
cupful, and gin it to the 'squire fust, who bussed the cup a little, and 
then I bussed it. John he bussed it, and kep' a-bussin' it wusser nur a 
man would a purty gal, till he got in a monstrus good humor. I was mighty 
glad to see the refect the ole white-face brandy had upon him, fur I was 
nation tired uv his snaps and snarls.

   "Jist as John had got in a good humor from bussin' Mrs. Whiteface, and 
had begun to spill his words right fast, we looked up the hill toward the 
Blue Ridge, and we sees Sol and Sally, dressed in thar best, a-comin' down 
the hill afoot, side and side, and the old lady a-traipin' along arter 
'um, Sol throwin' his game leg round one way, from right to left, and Sal 
a-throwin' hern around t'other way, from left ter right. They kep' good 
time. Sal's mammy looked mighty loonsome 

Page 181 [omitted image]

Page 182 [blank]

Page 183

bringin' up the rear. They came in, sat down, and John--ding him!--'peared 
to be as glad to see 'um as any on us.

   "Soon as they had blowed a little (it was dingnation hot), and had 
wiped the train-ile out'n thar eyes, the 'squire he tied the Gougin knot" 
(the Gordian knot, I suppose Bob meant), "and we all wished 'um much joy, 
John 'mong the rest. (I wanted to knock him down, arter doin' as he had 
done.) The corn-cob stopper was pulled out'n the gourd, 'chug,' agin and 
agin, and we kep' bussin' the pewter cup, and we chatted away like 
blackbirds, 'ceptin' the 'squire, with 'bout as much sense.

   "Dinner cumed next. The pot hadn't bin idle all the time; it kep' 
bilin' away, pottle, wottle, pottle, wottle. Hollin she sot the table 
along side uv the bed, to serve in the place uv chairs on one side, and a 
long bench on t'other side, and a short bench on each eend. It was one of 
these here cross-leg tables--none uv yer quality cuts. John Senter was 
none uv yer quality men; he opposed and hated all quality idees; nor would 
he 'low a quality dinner. He wouldn't 

Page 184

'low but one dish, ef the 'squire was thar. He wouldn't have a pie, nur a 
puddin', nur nuthin' o' the sort. Hollin she tuck up the dinner, and ding 
my skin ef it warn't a sure-anuff dinner. Thar was a great big pewter dish 
full uv stewed chicken and rye dumplin's, with chunks uv bacon mixed up, 
anuff to sorter season it. The rye dumplin's, some on 'um, was as big as 
corn-dodgers, and some on 'um, which the seasonin' hadn't toch, was tough 
as whitleather, and you mout a knocked a bull down with 'um. But, 
howsomever, as Mrs. Whiteface, who dwelt in the gourd, had whettened our 
appetites, we done monstrus well.

   "When dinner was over, the 'squire and me thought fur decency's sake we 
wouldn't leave right off, so we sot a little while; but we soon seen that 
John--ding him!--was a-gittin' monstrus onpatient. He kep' frivitin' 
about. Mrs. Whiteface had died away in him, and, ding him! he was too 
stingy to buss her any more, and the evil sperrit come on him agin. Last 
he walled up his eyes, and bawled out, 'You Zack! (his other son), you 
Zack!' 'Here!' says Zack. 'You go 

Page 185

and gear up that bull' (John allers plowed a bull; he wouldn't hev a 
horse), 'and you go to plowin', and I'll go to hoein'. Hefferon-my-haslit 
ef it'll do to be wastin' so much time a-weddinin'.'

   "Arter this speech the 'squire and me left."

   And this is as much space as I can allow my old friend John Senter. If 
all his rich sayings and eccentric doings were written out, they would 
fill quite a volume. Now the rest of the acts of John Senter, all that he 
said and did, how he made wooden-bottomed shoes, how he worked in the 
harvest fields barefooted, how he lawed the people at the justice's 
courts, how he loved apple brandy, and danced the "double shuffle," etc., 
etc., are they not written in the memory of all who know him?

   He has not yet slept with his fathers.



Page 186

XI.--REV. CHARLES GENTRY.
   I MUST not entirely omit the negroes, as some of them were men of 
renown. I have made honorable mention of "Gingy-cake Josh Easley." What 
the people would have done for "gingy-cakes" at their musters and public 
gatherings I can not tell, had it not been for clever Josh. Josh was 
respected by all, white and black. His master moved to Missouri, and there 
Josh died. He used to keep us all alive singing corn songs at "corn-
shuckings."

   I could mention many good and clever negroes, but will only pay my 
respects to Rev. Charles Gentry. Charles was a Baptist preacher, and 
belonged to "Shelt Gentry." His master and mistress were Baptists, and 
Charles was quite a privileged character. Next to Rev. Pleasant Cocker, 
Charles stood highest in their estimation. He was not without "gifts," nor 
was he destitute of a 

Page 187

proper amount of vanity. As to grammar, if he ever heard of it, he had no 
use for it, not he. His theology was not always sound, yet a good deal of 
it was quite original, as the two extracts from his sermons which I shall 
give the reader will abundantly prove. Rev. Charles had a penchant for 
controversy, and was often running up against established views, and 
upsetting them by the force of his cataract voice and rail-mauling 
gestures, if not by argument.

   Naturalists have for ages been trying to account for the different 
forms and complexions of men. Some will have them to be of different 
races, not all descended from the same pair, Adam and Eve. Others contend 
that all have descended from the same pair, but climate and accidental 
causes have made the difference; hence Professor A and Professor B have 
their diverse theories and their disciples and admirers. When men leave 
the plain teachings of the Bible and go into vague speculations, one man's 
hypothesis is nearly as good as another's.

Page 188

THE ORIGIN OF THE WHITES.
   I will now give my readers a new theory from the lips (for negroes do 
not write) of the Rev. Charles Gentry, and commend it to the consideration 
of Professor Agassiz and Dr. Nott. The Rev. Charles Gentry was 
"explanifying" to his "bredderin ob color" how the first white man came 
into existence. He held forth on this wise:

   "Beloved bredderin, de white folks ar clean out of it when dey 'firm 
dat de fust man was a white man. I'm not a-gwine to hab any sich 
doctering. De fact is, Adam, Cain, Abel, Seth, was all ob 'um black as 
jet. Now you 'quire how de white man cum. Why, dis a-way. Cain he kill his 
brudder Abel wid a great big club--he walkin'-stick--and God he cum to 
Cain, and say, 'Cain! where is dy brudder Abel?' Cain he pout out de lip, 
and say, 'I don't know; what ye axin' me fur? I ain't my brudder Abel's 
keeper.' De Lord he gits in airnest, and stomps on de ground, and say, 
'Cain! you Cain! whar is dy brudder Abel? I 

Page 189

say, Cain! whar is dy brudder?' Cain he turn white as bleach cambric in de 
face, and de whole race ob Cain dey bin white ebber since. De mark de Lord 
put on de face ob Cain was a white mark. He druv him inter de land ob Nod, 
and all de white folks hab cum frum de land ob Nod, jis' as you've hearn."

JONAH AND THE WHALE.
   Some divines, to pacify infidels and skeptics, and make, as they 
suppose, the Bible more acceptable to them, have a knack of explaining the 
miraculous truths of the Bible on natural principles and according to the 
teachings of human wisdom, and their preaching and expositions are, to say 
the least of it, semi-infidelic. Rev. Charles Gentry had heard one of 
those preachers somewhere who explained all miracles according to natural 
sequences. Charles had any amount of ambition, and wished to show his 
"larnin"' in the same way. Accordingly, at his next appointment, he 
delivered a learned dissertation on Jonah and the whale. He held his 
audience "spellbound" for some 

Page 190

time, but I can only give the narrative part of the able discourse. It was 
as follows:

   "Dearly beloved brudderin, dar is much said about dis Jonah and de 
whale business; a heap a-spoutin' about it, tryin' to outspout de whale 
hisself; but one half on 'um don't know what dey talkin' 'bout; dis chile 
does, howsomeber, 'bout de whole matter. Den listen, dat ye may hear. 
Well, Jonah he tries to git away from de Lord, and he gits in a ship--a 
big un, too--and tinks dat is de place fur him; but he miss him fur as ef 
he'd burnt he shirt. Dar Jonah he lie snug in de ship as a flea under a 
nigger's shirt collar. But, bless you, brudderin! de Lord he raise a 
mighty whirlygust, and de ship he rock to and fro like a drunkard man. De 
men dey guess what was de matter, and dey cum and take Jonah by de nap o' 
de neck and de hind part o' de britches, and swing him backuds and foruds; 
last dey pitch him head foremost, co-souse, inter de sea.

   "De whirlygust he stop right smack. But, bless de Lord! whar Jonah? A 
great big fish he cum up and lick him down like 

Page 191

salt--hardly a bug moufful fur sich a big whoppin feller. Jonah, when he 
gits down inter de paunch o' de fish, he squawks out, 'O Lord, what hab I 
done?' De fish he say, 'Hush yer mouf!' And de fish he swim, swim, swim, 
and kep' a-swimmin', and Jonah he bawls out de same ting. De fish he gits 
more in airnest, and say, 'Hush yer mouf, I tell yer!' and on he swim, 
swim, swim, till he cum to de Luxine Sea, as de white folk call him, but I 
call him Black Sea, 'caze he's black as jet, like a nigger.

   "But pardon dis 'gression.

   "When de fish he gits inter de Persian Gulf, near de mouf ob de old 
Euphrates, Jonah he gits mighty restless, and cries out agin, 'O Lord, 
what hab I done?' De fish he tell him to hush agin. No use; Jonah he 
holler louder and louder. De fish no mind him. Now Jonah he hab mighty 
sharp finger-nails, and he use 'um good, I tell yer. He begin ter claw and 
scratch the fish's paunch, 'tarmined to git out'n dar. De fish he gits 
sick in de craw, and he swim, swim, swim right fur land, 'tarmined to 
throw him up to dry. And, sure 'nuff, he gin one 

Page 192

great big hee-oh, and out cum Jonah right on de flat of he back on de bank.

   "De Lord he say to him, 'Gwine to preach now, Jonah?' Jonah he say, 
'Yes, Lord, dat I will!' and off he moseyed to Nineveh, and done some ob 
de biggest preachin' ye ubber hearn tell on. Dis, brudderin and sisterin, 
is de true varsion ob Jonah and de whale. All de rest is false, and rotten 
as mud."



Page 193

XII.--FIGHTING.
JOSH JONES AND HASH-HEAD SMITH.
   JOSH JONES and Hash-head Smith were both men of renown in this 
belligerent and romantic section. They made their mark upon their 
generation, in fist-fighting and scratching, if in nothing else. Josh had 
picked up a few Latin sentences and phrases, and could use them when he 
chose with great facility and dexterity. The people all hated "larnin' and 
college lingo," and though Josh's vernacular was no better than his 
neighbors'; nevertheless, his borrowed Latin made him quite a "larned 
man." He had the art of having his comrades in a fine glee in one moment, 
and "all to flinderations" the next, "fightin' rantankerus mad." He was 
the most popular and agreeable man in the crowd till his mischievous 
propensity forced him to blurt out, "e pluribus unum," "ipse dixit," "sine 
qua non," "sic transit 

Page 194

gloria mundi," etc., and it was as if you had assaulted a ball-hornet's 
nest.

   Our friend Smith was a chunky, well-set, muscular man, with a large 
buffy head, so large and destitute of brains that Martin Falkner, a shrewd 
wag, gave him the name of "Hash-head Smith," though he was veritably John 
Smith. Hash-head differed from most fleshy men, who are said to be good-
natured, for he was quite sensitive, ill-natured, and hated Josh's "dog 
Lating," as he termed his small stock of Roman. Josh Jones took great 
delight in teasing Hash-head. They were quite different men in most 
things, but in their love of old peach brandy they were "hail fellows well 
met."

   Now it came to pass, in the course of human events, that both of our 
heroes had some business at Grayson Court-house, Virginia, and on their 
return they called at the house of an old Quaker by the name of South, 
who, notwithstanding his rigid morals in most things, kept good brandies 
of all kinds, "pertic'ler the best old peach on the face uv the yeth." 
They called for it, and, in the expressive language of Josh, who was 

Page 195

always graphic in speech--truly so when inspired with "old peach"--they 
"smote it hip and thigh with the edge uv the sword, like unto Samson 
smitin' the plaguy Philistines at Ramoth-lehi with the jaw-bone of a 
jackass, as saith the book of Judges."

   Under the exhilarating influence of the Quaker's old peach, Josh soon 
began to roll out his Latin freely and fluently, and Hash-head "got ashy." 
But Josh intended to have some fun, and kept on. Hash-head considered 
himself degraded in the presence of the old Quaker and his wife by Josh's 
superior learning. He took it as a gross insult, and "walked into Josh 
right smack in old South's house." I will let Josh describe the rest of 
the scene in his own style.

   "Now I were detarmined to wake up those two demure old Quakers, old Mr. 
and old Miss South, who sot thar, and would only say 'yea' and 'nay' to 
evry word I'd say to 'um. They paid no more attention to my Lating than to 
a blackbird a-chatterin'; so Hash-head I seen was my on'y chance. I kep' 
poking my old Roman at him thick and heavy, and he soon flew all to 
flinderations. 

Page 196

But I salted him wusser and wusser, and the fust thing I knowed he struck 
me, co-diff; right plum between the eyes, with his maulbustin fist, quick 
as a ball-hornet, and sprawled me on the floor full length. I riz, and at 
it we went like blue blazes. We tuck it best six out'n eleven, upsettin' 
chairs, tables, and furniter of evry natur all over the house, hither and 
thither. The two old Quakers looked at us as though they b'lieved the 
sperrit uv the devil were turned loose, which were a fact, fur Quakers is 
disarners uv sperrits.

   "I soon seen that Hash-head would git my note ef I didn't play some 
game on him, fur he were feedin' me in the short ribs in double quick 
time. I had seen before the scrimmage begun a big whoppin churn o' cream 
settin' on the ha'th by the fire, and the thought entered my pate, nolens 
volens, that I'd throw Hash-head by that churn o' cream, and turn it over 
in his face, and git out'n the scrape ef possible, fur I were shoved fur 
the rent. I made a desput grab, and we fell side and side by said churn 
jist norated, and I turned it over right smack in his face, cowhollop, 

Page 197

right in his eyes and mouth. This sine qua non had the desired effect. He 
broke his holt as quick as when you souse a bucket uv cold water on two 
bull-dogs a-fightin'. I jumped up, but thar lay Hash-head, lickin' out his 
tongue, fust on one side then on t'other, tastin' old Miss South's yaller 
cream.

   "The next thing I seen was old Miss South, with hands and eyes turned 
up to'ads the good world, which I reckon she were 'vokin' the sperrits uv 
Fox, Barclay, and Penn to cum to her relief and take signul vengunce, Deo 
volente, on me fur the loss uv her cream. And lest she mout be hearn, and 
fur fear Hash-head, arter he had got the cream out'n his eyes and mouth, 
and his belly full on it, which he were hidin' it mighty fast, mout wade 
into me agin, I sloped, jumped on my hoss, darted down the Blue Ridge at 
the Blaze Spur, and was soon in good old Surry."

BUTTING.
   Fighting in that section was a common occurrence. No pistols, knives, 
sticks, and 

Page 198

cowardly weapons, such as are now used, were resorted to; they scorned all 
such as beneath brave men. Only such weapons as Nature had given them 
would they use in attack and in defense. They would knock with their fists 
like a Milo, kick with their feet like a horse, bite like loggerhead 
turtles, gouge like screw-augers, and butt like rams; any method with the 
body was lawful. Bullies would keep their thumb-nails oiled and trimmed as 
sharp as hawk's claws. Ask them why, they would reply,

   "To feel fur a feller's eye-strings, and make him tell the news."

   As you passed houses going home from musters and public gatherings, 
those who did not go (and they were not numerous) would accost you thus: 
"Who fout to-day?" If you replied, "No one," there was evidently a 
disappointment. As Johnson Snow believed and expressed it, "That a good 
deal uv shoutin' and groanin' went a great ways towards settin' off a 
meetin'," it was the common belief of that pugilistic people "that a great 
deal of knockin', kickin', bitin', gougin', and buttin' went a good 

Page 200 [omitted image]

Page 201

ways towards settin' off a muster or public gathering."

   Sometimes a fight would come off at a "corn-shucking." On such an 
occasion Peyton Tally and Henry Muneas fell out and "fout." It was a short 
fight, for they were no sooner stripped, in the "ring," and the word 
given, than Peyton backed a little, and went at Henry old ram or old goat 
fashion, full tilt, struck him in the stomach with his head, "laid him to 
the land," and had well-nigh made a "finish of him." The bystanders did 
not like such a short fight, and remonstrated with Peyton, who coolly 
replied,

   "I'll be dadsamped ef one good butt ain't wuth two knocks. It knocks 
the wind out'n you quick as thunder. Thar is great need fur the camphire 
bottle when you take it ram-fashion. Dadsamp ef his innards won't trouble 
him fur a 'coon's age. His wife and chillun will har'ly know him when they 
see him. He'll not be so pot-gutted in the futur, I reckon."

Page 202

A QUARTER-OF-A-DOLLAR FIGHT.
   Speaking of the foregoing butting fight reminds me of a sharp fight 
between Sam Clark and Jim Smith, son of the renowned Hash-head Smith, 
about a quarter of a dollar--no more nor no less.

   The people in that region were scrupulously honest--more so than any 
section I have ever seen. They lived remote from commerce, with its 
corruptions, and there was not fleece enough in all the land for sharpers 
to come in to corrupt their morals. Not even a wooden-nutmeg Yankee could 
make any thing from off them. They knew nothing but downright honesty. A 
man who would not pay a debt to the amount of five cents was scouted and 
despised most cordially. A man was never known to "make over his 
property." He had to pay the "utmost farthing," else public sentiment 
collared him. If a man's honesty was impeached, there was a fight, unless 
it was "taken back."

   Now it came to pass in a settlement between 

Page 203

Sam Clark and Jim Smith there was a misunderstanding about a quarter of a 
dollar. At Shipp's Muster-ground, the "potter's field" of that country, 
the subject was brought up for settlement while they were both pretty full 
of "knock-'em-stiff." They couldn't settle it, and they "drawed thar 
linnin" to settle the important contest. Their friends hated to see them 
fight about so trifling a thing, and Miller W. Easley, a friend to both, 
offered to pay the quarter. But nay; their honor was involved in it, and 
the honor of "thar chillun," and they were determined to settle it on the 
Fisher's River field of honor (Shipp's Muster-ground), and with Fisher's 
River weapons.

   They made a ring, "moseyed" into it, and no cool man--one who had the 
least sympathy for his tabernacle--would have taken the knocks, kicks, 
bites, gougings, battings, etc., that were given and received by those two 
duelists for a trifle. After they had beaten each other into a "frozzle," 
and "inter mince-meat," they were parted by their "seconds," and, having 
vindicated their insulted honor, the matter was adjusted 

Page 204

to the satisfaction of the belligerent heroes.

FIGHT ABOUT A KIPSKIN.
   Here follows an account of a fight farther illustrative of the 
foregoing. Josh Jones, who fought Hash-head Smith at the old Quaker's, in 
Grayson County, Virginia, was a tanner by trade, and "tanned on shares," 
as well as his own hides. Davis Holder, one of his customers, was a 
considerable bully, and when a little "tight" boasted not a little of his 
manhood. Josh tanned a "kipskin" for Davis "on shares," and there was a 
difficulty in their settlement some way. It became a serious affair, and 
Shipp's Muster-ground was the place of settlement. Davis brought it up, 
the ring was made, and the pugilistic party went into it. I will let Josh, 
in his graphic style, tell the rest of it.

   "I felt mighty skittish and jubus uv Davis, fur he was allers a-
swaggerin', and cavortin', and boastin' about, tellin' how many men he'd 
licked, and so on. But I were mad as flugence, and didn't care a dried-
apple cuss whether I lived ur died. I jumped 

Page 205

into the ring; 'Verbum sat,' says I, and slapped my hands aginst my hips, 
and crowed like a game-rooster. In jumped Davis, and come full drive at 
me, like a fishin' hawk dartin' at a fish. I had no idee uv boxin' with 
him, fur his arms was long as Maypoles. So I jist hipped him, and throwed 
him co-whollup--a desput fall on the hard yeth--on the flat uv his back, 
soused my eyestring feelers sock into his eyes, and he blated like a calf. 
Uncle Billy Norman pulled me off, who told Davis, who was talkin' 'bout 
tryin' it agin, 'I could lick him any day.' So that ended Davis's 
bullyin', puffin', and blowin' about his manhood."



Page 206

XIII.--THE CONVERT.
   AT Parson Bellow's night meetings it was not uncommon for persons 
"under conviction" to fall, and lie apparently dead for hours, and when 
they rose it was with a shout of triumph, "a clar and hopeful convarsion."

   Parson Bellow held a good many of his night meetings in the "Hawks 
Settlement," east of the head of Stewart's Creek, not far from the Sugar-
loaf Peak of the Blue Ridge. The Hawks generation was numerous, and, being 
much attached to each other and to their romantic section, they were never 
known to live far apart. The parson had held several meetings successfully 
for them at old Timothy Spencer's. It being a great country for apples, 
every man had a large orchard, and in the fall all the surplus apples were 
distilled into brandy. Every man had at least one "bar'l" a year. Timothy 

Page 207

Spencer had one "bar'l," and kept it in his house behind the door. When 
the door opened the "bar'l" was concealed behind it.

   Sol Hawks had seen this barrel for weeks at the various night meetings, 
and had used it for a seat during service. Instead of listening 
attentively to the parson's sermons, he was all the time thinking of the 
"innards uv the bar'l," the temptation was so great. His mouth watered not 
a little for some of the "good critter." While the "sarvices" had been 
going on, the crafty Sol had ascertained that the "bung" of the "bar'l" 
could be worked out. But what of that? He could not get at the delicious 
contents. It was vexatious to Sol. He couldn't stand it.

   Next meeting Sol took a quill, and managed to take the same seat. While 
prayer and other services were going on, in which the attention of the 
audience was directed in another way, Sol got the "bung" of the barrel 
out, thrust in his quill, and drank it down as a thirsty man does water. 
He took too much, for, just as the benediction was pronounced, Sol, 
attempting to rise, fell heavily on the floor.

Page 208

   The excitement was intense. The women shouted aloud, the men groaned in 
spirit, all supposing that the power of grace had done the deed--had 
felled that sturdy oak of Bashan, that tall cedar of Lebanon.

   "Bless the Lord!" exclaimed Parson Bellow. "I thort I'd done no good 
here tonight--hadn't cast the net on the right side--that the wheels uv 
Zion was clogged; but hallaluyer! the Lord allers comes at a time when we 
ain't lookin' fur him. Glory! glory!! Bruthering and sisters, sing a 
mighty sperritul hyme, and lift up yer hearts in prayer. This feller has 
bin a-standin' it out fur a long time, but the power what fotched down 
Saul uv Tarshish has flung him at last--glory!"

   The "hyme" was sung, fervent prayer offered, but there lay Sol 
speechless and seemingly lifeless.

   "Bruthering," said the parson, "yer faith is too weak. Ef you'd pray in 
airnest, with a strong faith, he'd be convarted afore you could cry 
''cavy.' "

   Prayer was offered again and again, but there lay Sol helpless as ever. 
Other tactics 

Page 209

must be used, and the parson was rich in expedients. He went to Sol, and 
told him what to do, "to give up," etc.

   "But, Sol," continued he, "don't shout too quick. Git religion good, 
Sol. I know these Hawks. They needs a heap uv religion, and you, Sol, have 
bin monstrous bad. Religion is mighty good truck to have, Sol. You've 
sinned enough to fill Noah's ark chug to the brim. I'm afeered you'll fall 
from grace ef you shout too soon, Sol."

   Thus he continued, pounding away on Sol's back with both hands every 
now and then, as though he would maul religion into him with his 
stentorian voice and herculean fists. At last he interrogated Sol thus:

   "Sol, how do you feel, old feller? Do you feel like you was a poor lost 
creetur? a messuble sinner, lost and ondone?"

   "Ah me!" groaned Sol, "I don't know. I feels mighty curious. My head is 
gwine round and round, and a ringin' in my ears sorter like tizzerrizzin! 
tizzerrizzin!"

   "Pray harder, Sol," replied the parson; "you ain't half a-prayin'. 
You'll nuver git religion prayin' that snail fashun. But 

Page 210

take care, Sol, and don't shout too soon. Be mighty keerful on that pint, 
Sol. Bruthering and sisters, one and all, sing that good old sperritul 
hyme,

"'Show pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive; 
Let a repentin' rebul live;' 

and pray while you sing, like you'd take heaven by storm. Who knows but 
what your prayers mout be hearn?"

   That "hyme" and several others were sung, and several prayers offered, 
but there lay the stubborn Sol, the tall cedar of Lebanon. The parson 
thought it was time to catechize him again, to see their success--to see 
whether "thar prayers was hearn."

   "Sol," he asked, "how do you feel now, old feller? Do you feel like you 
love the Lord and his people, poor soul?"

   "Ah! Lord, I don't adzackly know. I feels almighty curious. I'm almost 
'swaded I does."

   "Bruthering and sisters," said the parson, "my stars and lovely 
garters, ef he ain't convarted now, ef he jist knowed it. He jist needs a 
little more faith. Rise up, Sol, and shout, and you'll feel happy. 
Bruthering, 

Page 211

it ain't wuth while to be stayin' here; it's arter midnight; let's go 
home."

   Sol got up, rubbed his eyes a little, stepped out, and went home, but 
he never shouted.



Page 212

XIV.--NOT A TRAVELER.
   JOHN SNOW, son of Hail Snow, I believe, was "not a traveler." He 
indignantly repelled the idea; "he paid his way through thick and thin, 
and no thanks to nobody."

   It came to pass that John Snow and others went a trip some distance 
with wagons. There were no lucifer matches then, and at night, when they 
"tuck up," some one would have to go for fire to the nearest house.

   But here I must run off into digression to show what the people carried 
to market in those days. It was not whisky and brandy, for they hardly 
made enough for home consumption. "Things got nation dry" in summer before 
apple brandy came in to their relief. It was not "tar, pitch, and 
tarpintine," for there was but little pine there, and it was short-leafed 
and poor. Nor was it corn, wheat, and rye, for they were "allers 

Page 213

mighty scace" before a new "crap" came in. What then? Why, butter, 
flaxseed, chestnuts, chinkapins, Irish potatoes, and tobacco. These were 
the main staples. Sam Lundy always added a few items of his own to the 
above when he "sloped" to market; "wannit goody," "hick'ry-nut goody," and 
"haze-nut goody."

   As stated, with such a load as the foregoing, except Sam Lundy's, who 
had a clear field in his own line, John Snow and company camped near a 
very fine house, and John was sent to the house to get fire. He went to 
the door, made application for the fire, and the lady--a very polite one, 
doubtless--asked him to come in and be seated.

   "I'm too dirty," replied John, "to come inter as fine a room as yours 
is; I'd ruther stand."

   "Oh! never mind, good sir; travelers can not keep their clothing clean 
like parlor folks."

   "I ain't no traveler, marm," said John; "I pays my own way." (John 
thought she meant traveling beggars.)

   "Very well, sir," replied the lady, "you 

Page 214

are right. Be seated till the servant brings the fire."

   John was pacified, and took his seat in a fine parlor, on a splendid 
Windsor chair, till the fire came. He returned and reported the whole 
adventure to his company.

   "I tell you, boys, with my dirty britches I sot right smack in one o' 
the finest Weasler chairs you uver seen in all yer borned days, and my 
big, mud-bustin, pis-ant-killin' shoes on thar fine carpet looked like two 
great big Injun coonoes. I'll be poxed ef I knowed how to hold my hands 
nur feet."

Page 215 [omitted image]



Page 217

XV.--COOKING, BIG EATING, ETC.
   You may expect, in a healthy country like that, there would be big 
eaters. Stout, healthy men must eat accordingly. Their food was plain and 
simple--no highly seasoned viands to destroy the stomach and produce 
dyspepsia. Whether a French cook was better than a Fisher's River cook 
they knew not, nor did they care a chestnut. So they got their bacon and 
cabbage, chicken soup and pot-pies, Irish potatoes and hominy, and their 
buckwheat pancakes, tarts, and puddings, by way of dessert, all was well, 
A good appetite supplied the rest. A few families (called the "quality") 
could afford coffee once a week, only colored at that. All their 
"sweetnin' " was honey, of which there was great abundance, and the best 
in the world. Sugar and molasses were never used; they could not be 
afforded. Black "Gingycake Josh Easley" was the only man that 

Page 218

used molasses, and where he procured it I can not tell. I never saw any 
till I left that country in my nineteenth year. No "change of course" at 
their tables; substantials, dessert, pastry, and all went on the same 
table, using the same plates.

   Their gatherings were frequent, as previously intimated. One neighbor 
would help another harvest his grain, taking it in turn till they were all 
through. Corn-shuckings were conducted in the same way; nor could a man 
clear a piece of ground without inviting his neighbors, and having a 
"clearin'." They "swopped work." They were pre-eminently social. At such 
gatherings and workings, all hands would sit down to a long table, and the 
first dish they "moseyed into" was soup. Large pewter basins full of soup 
were placed along the table at a convenient distance, and several pewter 
spoons were placed in each basin. They "waded inter it"--never dipped it 
out--all that could reach in the same basin. Shadrach Franklin played a 
prank on "Long Jimmy Thompson" over a basin of soup once. Shadrach was the 
first man who dipped his spoon into 

Page 219

the smoking basin, and it burned his mouth awfully; but he resolved to 
have his fun, and bore it without a frown. "Long Jimmy," a big eater, 
asked him, "Shadrach, is the soup in good kelter?" "Yes," was the serious 
reply. Long Jimmy tried it, and unceremoniously spirted it out all over 
the table, producing a soup rainbow. All right; a hearty laugh was full 
compensation for the shower of saliva and soup.

   I have said Long Jimmy Thompson was a big eater. He was the Milo of 
Mitchell's River, and Mose Cackerham was the Maximius of Fisher's River. 
Once, at a gathering, Long Jimmy let in on a large tray of hog's feet that 
was set on a table. He made such havoc of them, and the bones fell so fast 
on the floor, that it provoked Lark Cannady to blurt out,

   "Hellow, Uncle Jimmy, you hull out bones faster nur a cotting-gin can 
shell out cotting-seed, a nation sight. You kin beat a whole cotting-
pickin' uv huming beings all holler."

   But Long Jimmy paid no more attention to this witty gibe than a hungry 
cur would 

Page 220

to a gnat. At a reaping at Uncle Billy Norman's, Mose Cackerham ate up the 
back-bones of several hogs, and their joles. The bones kept falling on the 
floor with such force and noise that Dick Snow exclaimed,

   "Dang it, Uncle Mose, ef your bones don't fall as hard on the floor as 
ears o' corn on the floor of a empty corn-crib at a corn-shuckin', and 
nearly as fast. By jingo! I wouldn't feed you fur all yer wuck. You'd 
'duce a famine in a man's smoke-house mighty quick."

   A tinker was about the first man I remember to have seen. He was an 
indispensable in that section--as much so as Prince Knock-'em-stiff. A 
tinker, in that honest region, needed not the name of a John Bunyan to 
make his fraternity respectable; he was a man of distinction, and 
honorable. Pewter cupboard ware was all the go. The tinker made it his 
business once a year to visit every family to remould their broken pewter 
ware. We had pewter basins, dishes, plates, spoons, etc. Our cups were tin 
mostly; some were pewter; but few men had plain delft-ware; china was 
unknown. Of "yethen 

Page 221

ware" there were crocks, jugs, and jars, which are essential every where. 
Major Oglesby, a man of some wealth, "one of the quality," had the finest 
delft known. It was a great curiosity to the "natives," and much talked of 
every where. When his plain neighbors visited him they were much 
embarrassed to know how to use it.

   Uncle Frost Snow, William Golding, and others went to the "major's" to 
take a hunt. At meal milk was served in tea-cups--glass was then not used, 
not even by the major--and Uncle Frost, not knowing how to handle a tea-
cup, turned it over, and spilled the milk on a fine table-cloth.

   "Dang it, major," said Uncle Frost, "I wish you'd a gi'n me a tin cup, 
then I'd a knowed how to a used him. I ain't no quality no how. You can't 
make a quality man out'n me. I'm nobody but Frost Snow, from old Fudginny."