LUCAS, J.H. - Putnam

Though not conforming to chronological sequence or otherwise adhering to any particular order of presentation, yet as a faithful and vivid reproduction of frontier life nothing can be more illuminative or impressive than the reflections of an early settler in Putnam county, J. D. Carter, who subsequently moved to the west. His reminiscences, printed in one of our county papers, are of such real historic value the liberty is taken of reproducing portions of the same here. "All the experience of the early pioneers of Putnam county," he relates, "goes far to confirm the theory that happiness is pretty evenly balanced in this world. They had their own privations and hardships, but they also had their own peculiar joys. A common interest and a common sympathy bound them together with the strongest ties. Neighbors didn't wait for an invitation to help each other. If there was a house-raising or a log-rolling, they came with as much alacrity as if they were all members of the same family, bound together by the ties of blood. The nature of their environments taught these early settlers to dwell together in this manner; it was their only protection. They had come far away from the well established reign of law and entered a new country. Each man's protection was in the good will of those about him and the thing any man might well dread was the of the community.. It was more terrible than the law. "Brazil Pursell was one of the men who reached Putnam county before I did. He was there on a prospecting and hunting excursion before Greencastle had been selected as the county seat. He and John Leroy on one occasion treed and finally captured a half-grown black bear. After a protracted struggle, in which Leroy's hands and face were more or less lacerated, the latter succeeded in binding his captive and taking him in triumph into camp. Subsequently he passed through Greencastle with his pet on his way to the far West, but that place was a mere hamlet, there being but a few log cabins about the courthouse square. Leroy was fond of telling the reason why breakfast was late one morning during his stay in Greencastle. The landlord had for some time realized that his larder was growing empty but was in hourly expectation of supplies. The evening before the pantry had become bankrupt, but the host was in hopes his team would come with provisions before morning. But hope deferred maketh the heart sick. At early dawn the landlord looked wistfully in the direction he expected his wagon, but in vain. Finally he mounted a horse and rode to a house down the road where he secured some meal and a half side of bacon and immediately returned home. The half-dozen hungry boarders sat in front of the log building pining for the flesh pots of civilization and soon their spirits arose and their mouths began to water. Far away to the northwest came the landlord riding like a jehu holding aloft the half-side of bacon as a sign of relief. "Mr. Pursell attended one of the first weddings in the county. The father of the bride spent several days riding about among the settlers in order to obtain flour enough to make the wedding-cake. He was unsuccessful and returned home much disappointed; but the bride and her brother were equal to the emergency. They pounded corn in a mortar dug out in the top of a stump, the pounding being done with an iron wedge attached to a pole which in turn was fastened to a sweep. Of the corn pounded in this way the finest was taken for the wedding cake which, when sweetened with maple sugar and properly baked, was highly relished by the guests. "It is strange with what pride the pioneers speak of their old log cabins. I doubt if there was ever a happier people -than those sheltered by them. With equal pride they speak of the one-legged bedstead, a piece of furniture long since obsolete. It was made of poles fastened into holes of the required size bored into the logs of the cabin. If set up in one corner of the room, as was often done, but one leg was required. Upon these poles clap-boards were laid or linn bark interwoven from pole to pole. Upon this primitive structure the bed lay. The convenience of a cook stove was not to be thought of ; but instead the cooking was done by the faithful wife in pots, kettles and skillets in and about the big fireplace and very frequently over and around the distended pedal extremities of the lord of the household while he was indulging in the luxury of a cob-pipe and discussing the probable result of a contemplated deer hunt up Big Walnut. "The mention of hunting reminds me of an incident which happened during one of my excursions into the wilds in quest of game. I was accompanied by Samuel McNary and when we were several miles southeast of Bainbridge we noticed a queer looking heap in the woods not far from our path. On approaching, we found to our dismay that beneath the mound of leaves and bark with his head and face only visible lay the form of a little boy. Removing the covering, we found him entirely nude save for a few rags around his neck and waist. Life being not extinct, we proceeded to divest ourselves of what wraps we could spare, for it was a cold, chilly day, and then took turns in carrying him to Bainbridge, where I secreted him in my harness shop until I borrowed some clothing from Aunt Milly Darnall. Meanwhile I reported to the overseers of the poor, who were James O'Hair and John Cooper. They bound the boy over to me till he was twenty-one years of age. He was so emaciated that the bones in some places protruded through the skin and the wonder is that he survived. I raised and educated him and he became a useful man. Later investigation proved that he was descended from a good family on his mother's side. She being dead, his father, through dissipation and lost to every feeling of humanity, suffered the woman with whom he was living to drive the children from home. Subsequently two others were found and bound out.

"Raising a crop the first year was an absolute necessity for the early settler. The failure of a crop meant more to him then than at any time afterward. I have seen a man cut down elm and lien trees so that the cattle might feed on the buds in order to get them through the long winter. In that case the man had arrived late in the fall and had been unable.to secure feed, hence the necessity of turning the stock out to browse. In this way many of the settlers who came in late succeeded in bringing their stock through the winter. But they could not have endured the siege much longer, as they found in the spring that there was not much more vitality than was necessary on the part of the dumb brutes to enable them to get around and graze upon the new grass sufficiently to recruit their wasted bodies. "Money was so scarce that but few of the newly-arrived immigrants had more than enough to secure their lands. They devoted their time and energies to clearing land and assisting each other in building cabins and rolling logs in the winter and spring months. It was often the case that after preparing the ground ready for the plow they would find their horses had strayed away, they having been turned loose to graze that the corn might be saved to feed while they were worked. Horses going astray frequently became a serious matter. Owing to the sparsely settled condition of the country It was almost useless to make inquiry. It was a well-established fact that when a horse tried to return to the country from which it was brought he took a direct line, paying no attention to roads or improvements if possible to get through, often climbing and descending bluffs which sometimes seem impassable. "After spending days and sometimes weeks in the fruitless search for their stray animals, the pioneers would return to find their families almost destitute for want of food. In such cases they never appealed to their more fortunate neighbors in vain. They often realized the beautiful saying of our Savior, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' It was not uncommon in such cases of misfortune that the families were compelled to live on bread and milk. The wild onion or ramp, so common at that time, was the first vegetation in the spring and was eaten by the cows, causing their milk to be unfit for use. These, with many other annoyances common to a new country, caused some to become discouraged and leave the country, but they were generally of that class who 'go back to their wives' folks.' "Some left and returned again.

John Fosher, who lived in the northern part of the county and who never knew a person too poor to credit for a sack of corn meal, proposed to give those who wished to leave five bushels of meal if they would agree to give him ten bushels of corn should they return. Many accepted this offer. Mr. Fosher informed me that enough had returned and `acknowledged the corn' to more than remunerate him for all that he had given.

"The agricultural implements of the early settlers were much in contrast with those of the present time. The only plows they had were what they styled cork screws! The mold boards were of wood. Some say they would kick a man over the fence and kick at him three times after he was over. The old cork screw plows did good service and must be awarded the honor of first stirring the soil of Putnam county. It was quite a time before the introduction of the groundhog threshing machine. I have always wondered why they were not adopted as an implement of war, for they certainly would have been formidable at short range to blind the advancing columns by throwing wheat in their eyes. There was no attachment for separating the wheat from the chaff. It was put in bins and cleaned at leisure by sheet or windmill. Corn was gathered by snapping it from the stalk and throwing it on the ground, then gathering up by hand and putting it into a sledge or wagon and then it was hauled to some smooth place on the farm and thrown into a rick, after which all the neighbors would be invited to the husking, when they would proceed to husk and throw it in a pile, preparatory to being hauled to the crib and thrown in by hand. There was no such thing as a scoop-shovel to handle the grain with at that time. I suppose the labor performed in gathering the corn at present wages would have cost more than the corn was worth. "When hogs were sold they were weighed in the old-fashioned steelyard scales. They were weighed by taking the breeching off the horses and suspending the hogs in it one at a time while they were weighed. The price was one dollar and fifty cents per hundred pounds for the best. They were driven on foot to some Market on the Ohio river. The greatest loss I ever knew to be sustained by stock men in Putnam county was when they paid the above price for hogs. A number of years afterward they used for weighing the old fashioned beams with a box to put the hog in. It never entered their minds to balance against the box, but they subtracted the weight of the box from every hog, as they did the breeching, and when the present stock scales were first introduced I have known men to drive five miles to weigh in the box because the weigh-master failed to subtract the platform and frame around it from the weight of the hogs. So you will see that the old saying that our forefathers carried a stone in one end of the sack and the corn in the other is about true after all.

"The young man or woman of today, enjoying the blessings and comforts of a modern home, can scarcely appreciate the tender and tearful leave- takings with which the pioneers left their cheerful and inviting homes in Kentucky for the new and unexplored lands of Putnam county. Though years have come and gone, the memory of the relatives and friends who followed us to the turn in the lane will never be forgotten. Brave, self- sacrificing men and women were they who, severing the ties of home and kindred, set out for the perils and privations of pioneer life in the wilderness. I recall vividly the arrival of the immigrants who came in wagons, horseback, on foot and in every conceivable shape. I shall never forget the dark and hopeless outlook when I reached Putnam county on that dreary morning in March. I had spent the night in Greencastle, and set out on foot the next morning for my destination in Bainbridge. It had been snowing all night and I had made a very early start. In the gray of the morning, just as the last notes of the night-owl had faded away in the distance, I passed the Seybold place. The heavy snow having bent the boughs of the trees across the road, it had the appearance of a tunnel. I entered it almost in darkness and walked on in silence until I reached Amos Robertson's, now the Crow place. There I saw the smoldering fires of some log heaps being replenished with brush and heard the music of an axe as it felled the timber and I sniffed the savory bacon as it hissed and curled in the frying pan. Mrs. Robertson soon dished up a toothsome breakfast from their scanty supply, spicing it with some costly morsel from the store. Coffee, bacon and slap- jacks were soon disposed of. No forbidding pile of dainty dishes to be pantried away just a few tin cups. pewter plate and knives. A tap or two knocks the coffee grounds from the cups ; a wipe cleans the cups and knives. Thus the morning dishes are cleaned. "I stopped for a time with Abram Hillis, who graphically described the effects of a hurricane which had shortly before passed through the county, tearing up trees and otherwise destroying property, but got no further than Mr. Marks' place where I had spent the night. The next morning, having again set out on my journey, I discovered a man lying in the middle of the road and a horse nearby. I soon discovered that the man's overcoat was frozen to the ground, the man himself having evidently fallen from his horse before it began to freeze. He was so completely imbedded in the snow and mud it was with some difficulty that I was able to pry him loose. When aroused from his stupor he took some whisky which he had not yet consumed and I helped him to mount his horse again. He certainly would have perished without assistance. It has always been a mystery to me why that horse, hungry and cold, remained with his master throughout the night. It could only have been due to the guiding hand of an over-ruling Providence, I am sure. "We traveled on and after a while my unfortunate friend began to recover himself. In one place we encountered an immense tree which had fallen across our path and which my companion said had killed the son of Colonel Piercy while carrying the mail a short time before; also that some kind of a disease had made serious inroads among the people and that every man who owned or occupied land along that road from Bainbridge to Greencastle, with the exception of William Randel, had passed away, an announcement calculated to afford solemn and serious reflection to a stranger about to pitch his tent in that neighborhood. I finally arrived at the hurricane-visited spot, about one-half mile south of where Bainbridge now is. The destruction of timber had been frightful. The track of the hurricane appeared to be about a quarter of a mile in width and its course east and west. Scarcely a tree was standing in its course. By night I reached Bainbridge, a hamlet in the woods which contained four families as follows : William J. Darnall, J. H. Lucas, Adam Feather and Reuben George. Lucas was the big man of the place, landlord, justice of the peace, postmaster, merchant and tanner. "As is invariably the case in newly settled places remote from the great rivers or lines of communication, the price of stock, grain and other products was invariably low and out of proportion to that of other commodities. Very often after reaching the large trading centers the settler would find an unlooked-for advance in the price of what he expected to take back with him and the market glutted with the kind of produce he had to sell. I well remember three of my neighbors who went to Lawrenceburg only to find an oversupply of grain. Being unable to find a customer, they almost gave their stocks away and in order to secure the necessaries for the party, two of them were -compelled to remain and work a week in a distillery in order to make up what they lacked in money. Flour was unknown at first and meal scarce. Meal of home manufacture was made by pounding boiled corn in a sort of mortar made in the top of a stump. The pounding was done with an iron wedge fastened to a stick. Various other contrivances were used. Buckwheat was ground in coffee mills. In this way flour was ground for many a toothsome flap-jack. Meat, of course, was very cheap. Bazil Pursell, who helped build the bridges on the National road in Putnam county, told me that in 1824 he sold a wagon load of jerked or Indian smoked venison hams in the village of Greencastle for two and a half cents per pound.- kz