302 - History of
Vermillion County
PIONEERS
The surviving old settlers have from time to time held reunions,
picnics, etc., refreshing one another's memories of pioneer
experiences. At the close of the 4th of July celebration at Clinton in
1881, an association, for the purposes of mutual entertainment and
preservation of history, was organized by the election of the following
officers: James A. White, Sr., of Helt Township, President; Decatur
Downing, of Clinton, Secretary; W. G. Crabb, of Clinton, Treasurer;
Vic-Presidents, for the respective townships -- John Hamilton, Clinton;
Abel Sexton, Vermillion; S. W. Malone, Eugene; and R. J. Gessie,
Highland; and Executive Committee -- J. H. Bogart, John Wright and B.
F. Morey, of Clinton; William Wishard, of Helt; and George H. McNeill,
of Perrysville. This committee was given the authority to call a
meeting of the society, but it is said that they never even met, for
any purpose, and thus the association died.
It happens, however, that the chief poet of Vermillion County, Dr. E.
T. Spotswood, of Perrysville, knows how to celebrate pioneer times, in
true Hoosier dialect, and we here insert two specimens from his happy
mind.
The first was published in a newspaper of an adjoining county, over
the nom de plume of "Daniel
Dundell."
THE HOOSIER HOEDOWN,
OR BACKWOODS DANCE OF THE OLDEN TIME.
To the Edytur: Sur: These
lines is most respeckfullee dedykatuted to all uv the yung fellers who
run around here when the Coal Branch wuz small an' the water wuz fust
turned into the Wabash, -- sich yung chaps as John Collett, Tom
Cushman, O. P. Davis, Abe Sexton, John W. Parrett, R. J. Gessie, R. D.
Moffatt, Lem Chenoweth, Smith Rabb an' all uv the boys uv that
crowd
Pioneers - 303
who cum to this kentry when it wuz new
an' mostly in a state ov natur,
an' likewise peple; also thereof before it wuz so improved that all
natur is druv out uv it. In the good old times, when workin wuz more
respektable than lafin', when stealin wuzent called spekilashun, when
honesty wuz konsidered the best policy, when brass didn't count for
brains, an' cheek for moral principul, when muney wuzent allus the
measure uv the man, when sham and shoddy wuznt on top, an' modest worth
an' manhood on the under side in the fite, but when brains, pluck,
honesty an' mussel wud win agin the world, -- to these yung chaps uv
olden time I dedykate the poem, an' subscribe myself in the Coal Branch
Hollow, whar they will alus find the latchstring out, a smokin' hot
corn pone, a bowl uv cold buttermilk, a clean gord in sparklin' water,
a rousin' hickory log fire, an a warm wellcum from thar friend,
DANIEL DUNDELL.
Coal Branch Hollow,
Vermillion Co., Indianny
THE COAL BRANCH DANCE.
Down upon the Coal Branch in the Indianny State,
Whar things go movin' slow along at the good old-fashioned gait,
Thar men an' wimmen good belong, an' gals that ar the sweetest,
An' boys that's hansum, tuff an' strong, an' jes bilt up the neatest, --
Whar the people all ar' sociable, an' thar aint no falls pretenses
Dividin' uv the nabors up with pride an' folly's fences, --
Whar work an' frolic, hand in hand, goes moving' on like friends;
An' when one gits in trouble all to him their help extends;
An' when a feller gits behind an' lags along the road,
You'll find 'em all together jined to help him lift his load, --
That is to say, if he's "all squar," an' aint no ornery cuss
That won't at workin' take his share, but goes from bad to wuss, --
Then every nabor will turn out at any kind uv work,
An' help the chap, an' not a man among them all will shirk.
They make a frolic uv their work, an' call in every nabor,
An' wind it all up with a dance, to liten up thar labor.
Late in the fall when craps is ripe, an' the grass around is wiltin',
The gals they glo a-slippin' round a bittin' up a-quiltin',
An' the boys all round they understand
Will cum an' lend a helpin' hand,
In shuckin' corn or clearin' land;
Then, when the corn is gathered in,
An safely stowed up in the bin,
The fodder piled up in the shock,
Enough to feed the winter stock, --
The quilt is tuck from out the frame, a-lookin- new and neat;
It's stitched an' tacked an' hemd an' sode an' finished up complete.
Then, when the long day's work is dun,
An' night cums with the settin' sun,
An' all have had a glorious treat,
At supper time, uv things to eat, --
Uv hog an' hominy, pork an' beans,
Uv corn an' cabbage an' sich greens, --
Uv nicnacks sweet which you will find
The wimmin have been mixin', --
Besides 'most every other kind
Uv first-rate chicken fixin', --
Jes now, when every one about
Is full uv fun all over,
Is when the Coal Branch blossoms out,
An' feels herself in clover.
From corn-cob pipes the old ones smokes,
An' chats and laffs an' cracks thar jokes,
An' smiles an' winks an' slyly pokes
Thar fun at the younger bashful fokes.
From bright tin cups their cider sips,
An' stands with hands upon thar hips,
A-lookin' pleased between thar nips,
To see thar sturdy boys an' gals so rapid growin',
Expectin soon that each thar own row will be hoein',
An' all the while with biznes eyes they are sum items takin',
Which shortly in the by an' by they'll use in sly match making',
Then, when uv jucy punkin pie they all have eat a lunchen,
Each feller hunts his pardner up an' steps out on his punchen,
The gals are standin' round in rows,
Tricked out in spankin' calicoes,
All waitin' to be chosen.
304 - History of
Vermillion County
Each feller is in his blue-jeans close
Is lookin'round him as he goes
A-huntin', as we may suppose
Fur his own Mary Susan.
The fiddler cums an' with him brings
His pockets full uv fiddle-strings,
An' in he cums a-saunterin' soon,
an' thrums the strings, -- the sly old coon,
An' gives the notes a twang or two
Which sets a-pattin' every shoe,
A-timin' to the tune.
An' now the dance no longer lingers.
The fiddle' neck he tickles fast with nimble fingers,
an' quick as lightnin' to an' fro,
With all his might he swings the bow.
He draws it twice across the strings,
Which on the floor the dancers brings;
He gives the bow another draw,
When they all call for the "Arkinsaw."
With a loud voice he yells the call,
"Honers ter yar pardners, all, all!"
An' then the fun gits goin'.
Thar's steppin'high an' steppin' low
As round an'round the dancers go,
Jes like it wuz a circus show
Whilst the music cums a-flowin'.
Sometimes they cut the pigin wing,
An' then they try the Highland Fling,
They jump an' slide an' skip an' hop,
A-gittin higher every pop.
It's a fact which 'taint no use denyin',
That soon from off that floor the splinters gits a-flyin',
To the fiddle's time they music beat
With clatterin', patterin' busy feet,
As in an' out they wind an' wheel
Thro' old Virginia's lively reel,
Or, like the flyin' corn they husk,
They capper in the Money Musk,
Or Fisher's Hornpipe contra dance
With springin' steps they danglin' glance,
With ringin' laff an' jestin' jeer,
An' cheeks aglow with merry cheer.
The gals they giggle, laff and smile
an' wud a very saint beguile.
Whilst round an' round a-spinnin',
The boys ketch up the roarin' fun,
Each feller thinin' he's the one, --
From ear to ear is grinnin',
When bang! thar goes a fiddle string,
Which to an eend this set will bring.
With hankichers all drippin' wet,
The gals wipe off the surplus sweat,
A-fixin' fur another set
Which soon they'll have a-goin';
Whilst the boys, all tuckered out of wind,
Are a-settin' round a-blowin'.
If you are fond uv nat'ral ways, -- ur old-time country dancin',
Cum out upon the Coal branch an' see our gals an' boys a-prancin';
An' I'm sure that if you do
That you will larn a thing or two;
For you will see with your own eyes
The human hart without disguise,
An' larn sum lessons if you're wise,
Which thro' life's journey you will prize;
That happiness an' sweet content
Are oft with simplest pleasures blent;
That graspin' greed an' pride will bring
To akin' harts the keenest sting;
Whilst nature's plain an' simple ways
Will light with joy your sunset days.
The following was composed for, and read at, the
Independence celebration and old settlers' reunion held July 4, 1887,
at Newport:
FOURTH OF JULY POEM
By Dr. E. T. Spotswood, of Perrysville, Indiana
Old friends an' neighbors, howdy do! I giv you hearty greetin',
An' welcome warm to all uv you to this Old Settlers' meetin',
I think 'tis good to meet agin, an' peepin' through our glasses,
Be tellin' how we used to do, when we wuz lads an lassies.
An' since we hev together come, in love which never tires,
With friendship's torch, we'll kindle up the long, long smoulderin'
fires
Uv memories that hev long grown dim' an' faded like a dream.
From the shaddowy past we will recall an' make with life to gleam.
Old Time, that cruel, heartless thief, whilst we hev bin on duty,
Each year hez bin a robbin' us uv some bright line uv beauty;
Fur our faces, all so bloomin' once, ar' now dried up an' wrinkled,
An' our hair thet was so bonnie brown is now with gray besprinkled;
Pioneers - 305
Our
eyes thet once wer' bright ez stars, hev now grown dim an' hazy;
An' the dimples thet wuz on our cheeks hev faded like the daisy.
Our limbs wer' strong an' active once, but now you see it is
Thet they ar' weak an' tottery, an' stiff with rheumatiz;
But never mind, we ar' young agin, in heart, if not in body;
An' we'll jest hunt up a shady place wher' the grass is green an' soddy,
An' set right down to spinnin' yarns, an' old stories we'll untwine,
Uv how the old things used to be, in days o' Auld Lang Syne.
Our hopes an' fears, our joys an' tears, an' old loves we will recall,
An' jog each failing memory 'till we clearly bring back all.
An' from the long forgotten past, old treasures we will bring
Uv memories sweet of the "olden time" thet still around us cling;
From the hazy mist uv vanished years, the buried past again appears,
An' the echoes uv long ago will break upon our listening ears,
While visions uv our early days like shadows throng around us,
An' tighten up the loosening cords thet to the past hez bound us,
An' then once more the magic spells, thet glided life's young mornin',
Will gently steal on every heart, an again bring back the dawnin',
As memory brings frum by-gone years on fancy's flying wings,
The sunny scenes uv the far-off time, frum whence our rapture springs.
We boys an' gals uv other days our lives will now live over,
An' dream agin uv the happy time when we wandered through the clover,
An' over hills, through woodlands green, down shady glens we strayed,
An' waded in the babblin' brook, an' in its waters played,
An' gathered flowers on the bank, an' in the grapevine swing,
We tossed our sweethearts high in the air, an' made the grove to ring
With joyous laughter, free from care, an' spent the live long day
'Till wearied out, with tired feet, we homeward wound our way;
When our days wer' bright ez the morning light an' our futur hed no
shadder,
To cast its darkness on our paths, an make our hearts feel sadder;
When the hours all blithe an' golden sped quickly in ther flight
An' our hearts wer' filled with bounding hope an' the onlook glowed
with light;
When with truth an' dauntless courage our hearts would overflow,
An' hope's bright rainbow spanned the sky an' bid us forward go.
Our schoolmates uv the long ago, who 'neath the oak tree's shade
Around the old log schoolhouse hev often with us played,
Ar' scattered like the autumn leaves frum ocean's shore to shore.
Some hev to fame an' fortune grown, an' in life's battle sore
Some hev failed, while strugglin' on, but brave their part they bore.
But the many who were with us then, hev left an' gone before.
To-day we'll call all back agin, once more be gals an' boys,
An' try to feel as we did then, when filled with youthful joys.
Our long forgotten jokes an' scrapes, we'll now tell on each other,
Until the laughing tears run down, an' not a thing we'll smother.
With the sweet old songs we used to sing
Once more we'll make these old woods ring,
An' show these young folks settin' 'round thet the music uv that day,
Wuz better than the German waltz, or furrin trills that now they sing
an' play.
The music thet we loved uv old, wuz the spinnin-wheels' sweet hummin';
The flax-break's thud, as with steady beat all day it kep a drummin';
The rattlin' uv the shuttle, to the loom-beam's measured thumpin',
But on pianies an' organs they now grind music out by poundin' an a
pumpin'.
You will perhaps quite easy see, without any kind uv trouble,
Thet the old way did'ent cost so much, but wuz fur more profitable.
O! ther' hez bin a mighty change; but I think 'twill be confessed
