Note: The Rev. James Gilruth died before July 12, 1873, a year after publishing these stories, in Davenport, Iowa. He was an abolitionist and preacher of the Gospel. More on him later. July 18, 1872
In my last, having pursued the history of who settled in this or that place, I propose giving you a summary of some of the manners and customs that prevailed among us.
Our settlements were made near the close of a long and bloody Indian war, in which many early settlers had personally participated; also, the revolutionary struggle was the most a thing as of yesterday. The past scenes of danger were fresh in their minds, which, in a scattered population, now depend on each other for aid, tended to awaken and perpetuate in their minds a feeling of friendship that produced warm-hearted hospitality to each other and to the stranger.
I was 16 years old before I ever saw or heard tell of a family among us who sat down to eat and did not invite the strangers present to partake with them, and older than that before I knew of a traveler being refused a night’s lodging; so far from it, that as far as I knew, it was the universal practice, that if anyone stepped in soon after meal time, to ask him if he had been at breakfast or dinner, as the case might be; and if anyone called near night and it seemed disposed to go farther, to invite him to stay all night.
We commonly had our Christmas and New Year’s dinners, made by those who were able and invited all near to partake. At these dinners and in our social family visits, the conversation mostly consisted in relating the events of the past wars, anecdotes of the chase, and personal experiences, so that we became extensively posted on what each other knew.
Of political questions, we knew and cared but little. Our common living, as well as our social feasts, consisted mostly of venison, bear meat, fish, and wild fowl; the various preparations from corn, potatoes, pumpkins, and other vegetables, with milk and butter; sassafras, spice-wood, dittany tea, etc., or corn coffee well sweetened with sugar of our own manufacture.
Our common dress for the men and boys consisted of buckskin or linsey pants, a vest, and a hunting shirt, buckskin moccasins, with flax or a linen shirt. A few families, however, never adopted the hunting shirt and moccasins but wore coats and shoes. The women, almost universally for their everyday dress, wore linsey or cotton gowns striped or dyed to suit fancy, all of home manufacture and tailoring.
The employment of the men consisted in clearing land, raising crops, hunting, fishing, and doing all things necessary to provide for their families and domestic stock, and that of the women consisted of spinning and weaving. Knitting, tailoring, and doing all other things, in or outdoors, are necessary for the interest or comfort of the family.
The amusements of the men and boys were, shooting at a mark, running foot races, hopping, jumping, wrestling, pitching quoits, pitching at the rail, or shoulder stone, throwing an axe, playing ball, swimming, etc. That of the women consisted mostly of social visits. In those days, horse racing, frolicking parties, card playing, and the different forms of gambling had not obtained any foothold among us.
The raising of our houses and the rolling of our logs were done by the combined efforts of the neighbors, which neighbors extended for many miles all around, even to ten and fifteen. This mutual aid, although a severe tax on the time necessary for an individual business, was absolutely necessary; for no individual, however strong, could raise houses and roll logs alone, and none were able to hire the doing of these things.
This mutual aiding of each other, however, had these additional benefits: it enlarged our acquaintance with each other and the country; it created and cemented the friendship. It was also extended to things, not of absolute necessity, such as husking of corn, quilting bed-quilts, spinning, etc. In all such cases, more or less, the women assisted the good wife with her cookery.
For meat, nearly all depended on the wild game of the woods and the fish of the rivers, of which there was great abundance, but for them, it is difficult to see how the first settlements could have been sustained. Thus, men were made hunters and fishers from necessity; they had little or no relish for these occupations and abandoned them as soon as their circumstances permitted. For bread, for years, they were dependent on the hominy block or hand mill.
Our manner of traveling, when the journey was long if, by water, the canoe was the general means of conveyance, in which we carried our provisions and bedding, such as a bear skin and blanket. If it rained and we had not reached a house, a large leaning tree was sot, but if the weather was fair, any good shade that would keep the dew was selected, where we kindled a fire and slept for the night.
If by land, we traveled either on foot or on horseback. If on foot, the traveler took a blanket and what provision he thought proper and passed on without roads, up one stream and down another; for there were no roads in the country except deer paths and buffalo trails; as for bridges, there were none in existence. When he came to a stream that made it necessary, he built a raft of such logs as he could put together and ferried it; but if the water was warm and he could swim, he laid his clothes on a suitable log and swam, shoving or towing the log with his clothes.
When night came on, he struck fire and slept under a tree, serenaded by the howling of the wolves and the hooting of owls. If he traveled on horseback, he took some provision for himself and a “little baiting for the horse” and threaded his way as best he could without a track on the ground or a blaze on a tree to guide. When night came, he hobbled and billed the horse and turned him out to feed on the grass and pea-vines, kindled a fire and ate his grub, and lay down to enjoy what rest the mosquitoes and gnats would permit till morning. In whatever mode we traveled, the rifle, tomahawk, and butcher knife were our companions.
Except for funerals, religious meetings, and courts of justice, the use of liquor was almost universal. At our log rolling, our raisings, corn husking, etc., it was the universal custom for the employer to furnish the employee with all that he would drink; and he was counted mean that he would not provide a full supply or provided a poor article when a good one could be had. At all our military musters, it was customary for the officers to treat their men liberally.
At all elections, it was common for one or more of the friends of each candidate to procure a jug of liquor and proclaim, “This is the treat of __!” etc. No mother was confined, and the attendants were not treated to all that they would drink. It was viewed as a medicinal necessity to the traveler to correct the effects of the change of water; to all, if the weather were cold, liquor was needful to keep up the internal heat; if warm, it was necessary to prevent its debilitating effects; if wet or foggy, it was necessary to keep from taking cold, or to prevent the ague.
It was the common evidence of respect whenever a welcome visitor arrived, he was presented with the bottle, and friendly acquaintances meeting where it was to be had, treated each other to a glass of liquor, in token of their regard for each other. Notwithstanding the good intentions with which liquor was used, its free use was vastly more productive of evil than good.
There were few quarrels except those that grew out of the use of ardent spirits; these frequently ended in a fight. When the fight was over, through the instrumentality of bystanders, the parties drank friends, so the matter ended for the time being. We had no stores among us; occasionally, a trading boat passed down the river, with its flag, stopping at nearly every landing, from which we obtained such articles as we needed -but mostly from family boats, did we obtain our supplies of liquor.
After we began to raise some stock, hog, and cattle drovers, who generally bought on credit, giving about $2 per cwt., net, visited us. We had but little commercial business, one with another, and what we had, it was common to sell and buy on credit without giving notes, and it was seldom that payment was not made according to promise when there was the ability to do it. Seldom was there any suing of each other. Sabbath-breaking was common in hunting, fishing, or visiting but seldom in common labor. Such a thing as disturbing a religious meeting not remembered to have occurred for the first twenty years.
The banks of the Ohio River, at the time of the first settlement of that country, were covered with heavy timber down to the water’s edge and were of a grade that a man on horseback could ride up or down them on the rounding side, almost anywhere. The stream, with its heavily timbered banks, presented a continued display of beauty in the summer, excelled by few rivers on the earth. Of the difference of the manners and customs of the times of which I write and of the appearance of the Ohio River from that of the present, your own observations will satisfy you.
I think it is proper to close this narrative with a couple of anecdotes. The first was a scene in the Indian War, in which M. GILRUTH performed apart when a girl was about 15 years old. In the time of the Indian War, her father, William INGLES, then living at Bellville, VA, on his farm near the Bellville Fort, had appointed that day to roll some logs.
A man by the name of BROWN had come and brought his oxen, which he left standing in the yoke at the end of the house. Mr. BROWN, with the family, were sitting at breakfast (the door being shut) when their dog commenced barking with unusual fierceness. Her father supposing that it was at the men from the Fort coming to roll the logs, bade his daughter to step to the door and order the dog to quit. When she opened the door, there were three Indian warriors standing near, one at each corner of the house and one before the door, about twelve or fifteen feet off.
The Indian in front instantly raised his gun in action to shoot her. Without showing signs of being frightened, she looked him in the face, on which he drew down his gun, saying, “Yuh.” In the meantime, her little brother, some four or five years old, had run out by her and passed on nearly halfway to the Indian. She sprang forward and caught the child, and darted backward with him into the house, shut and bolted the door, calling out, “Father, Indians!” hitherto, the Indians had supposed that house to be uninhabited, but on discovering that there were people in it, they wheeled off, but as they went one of them fired and killed one of BROWN’S oxen.
BROWN sprang for his rifle, saying, “I will pay some of you for that,” and throwing open a small window that faced towards the woods, he saw their Chief about fifty yards off, standing in the garden, watching the Fort. He drew w bead for his heart, but his gun, having loaded for some time, made a long fire, during which his hand sunk a little, and he shot him through the bowels. On receiving the shot he gave the signal of retreat, fell, rose and ran to the fence, and fell again.
The Indians all precipitately retreated to the woods, except three, who came and threw down the fence and deliberately led off their wounded Chief. Having killed a man by the name of KELLY, whom they caught some distance from the Fort, and taken his son Joseph, a child about four years old who was with him, a prisoner, and being disappointed in taking place by surprise, they continued their retreat. They went up and crossed the river on rafts at the mouth of the Big Hockhocking. On their way up to that stream, about four miles from its mouth, their Chief died.
The inheritance was too few to follow and come to an open fight with this band of warriors, so they passed off unmolested. The prompt and daring act of young Miss INGLES to save her brother was not a mere impulse of the moment. It was constitutional bravery, accompanied by prompt decision. In reviewing her life, I have not the faintest recollection of so much as a solitary instance where reason or duty required action that she showed the least sign of hesitancy or timidity. She was no passionate blusterer but a calm calculator of good judgment, prompt and fearless in the execution of duty, one that prayed much and relied on God for the outcome.
The second anecdote is one concerning Gen. KELLY’S grandmother, Mary KELLY. I give it as I hear it. Mrs. M. KELLY, with some other women and Joseph CRANK, of whom I have made mention in a former letter, were crossing Ohio in a canoe, and when they were about the middle by some mishap, the canoe was overset.
The water was deep, and none on board could swim but Mrs. KELLY; she caught one and another as they were sinking and made them lock hands across the bottom of the canoe. She brought up CRANK and bade him climb up and sit a straddle of the canoe; she then swam out and got a paddle that was floating near and gave it to him, saying, “Now paddle for the shore,” which he did, and brought all safe to land.
George Washington or Napoleon Bonaparte, under the circumstances, could not have out generaled Mary KELLY in this case. When I consider the brave and generous acts of this woman and look at such a feat as my throwing an ax over the courthouse steeple at Franklinton, although a fact, I view it as sinking into utter insignificance and not worthy of being written on the same page. Had these women had an education equal to their natural abilities and been placed in suitable surroundings, their superiors would have been few among the daughters of Eve. Thank God or such mothers!
In giving you the history of the early settlement of those parts, I have again mentally traveled over and taken a view of the scenes of my childhood, youth, and early manhood; and have again looked in the faces, viewed the form, heard the voice, and seen the actions of each individual named; in all which, each appeared as when we were personally together.
But where are they now? Of all the first settlers, who yet lives? Of their children that were born before they settled here when I and one or two others are named, I know not of another yet living. I feel very much like adopting the language of the messenger to Job concerning his sons: “They are dead, and I only am escaped alone, to tell thee.” Editor Register
Of former friends how oft I've thought
With joy, or brim full eye;
Now silent as a thing of naught,
In Mother Earth they lie.
Each form and face to me appears,
As when we used to meet;
Nor times, nor place, nor length of years,
Has changed our friendly greet.
Thus, memory paints the streams and lands,
Where we together walked;
The toils, and labor of our hands,
With that of which we talked.
Since last we met in youthful hours,
Long years have rolled between;
And naught remains but feeble powers,
That soon will cease to be.
To all yet living friends, farewell;
Hail, ashes of the dead;
Who lived on earth to do God's will
With you I'll soon be laid.
I make yet one appointment more,
And make it as my last;
That if on earth we meet no more,
We meet among the blest.
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