Daniel Boone: The Pioneer of Kentucky
farmer leaning on the fence by the road side. I accompanied him to his
house to spend the night. It was a log dwelling, and near it stood
another log structure, about twelve feet square,--the weaving shop of
the family. On entering the dwelling I found the numerous household all
clothed in substantial garments of their own manufacture. The floor was
unadorned by a carpet and the room devoid of superfluous furniture; yet
they had all that necessity required for their comfort. One needs but
little experience like this to learn how few are our real wants,--how
easily most luxuries of dress, furniture and equipage can be dispensed
with.
"Soon after my arrival supper was ready. It consisted of fowls, bacon,
hoe-cake and buckwheat cakes. Our beverage was milk and coffee,
sweetened with maple sugar. Soon as it grew dark my hostess took down a
small candle mould for three candles, hanging from the wall on a
frame-work just in front of the fire-place, in company with a rifle,
long strings of dried pumpkins and other articles of household property.
On retiring I was conducted to the room overhead, to which I ascended by
stairs out of doors. My bed-fellow was the county sheriff, a young man
of about my own age. And as we lay together a fine field was had for
astronomical observations through the chinks of the logs.
"The next morning, after rising, I was looking for the washing
apparatus, when he tapped me on the shoulder, as a signal to accompany
him to the brook in the rear of the house, in whose pure crystal waters
we performed our morning ablutions. After breakfast, through the
persuasion of the sheriff, I agreed to go across the country by his
house. He was on horseback; I on foot bearing my knapsack. For six miles
our route lay through a pathless forest; on emerging from which we soon
passed through the 'Court House,' the only village in the county,
consisting of about a dozen log-houses and the court building.
"Soon after we came to a Methodist encampment. This was formed of three
continuous lines, each occupying a side of a square and about one
hundred feet in length. Each row was divided into six or ten cabins with
partitions between. The height of the rows on the inner side of the
enclosed area was about ten feet, on the outer about six, to which the
roofs sloped shed-like. The door of each cabin opened on the inner side
of the area, and at the back of each was a log chimney coming up even
with the roof. At the upper extremity of the inclosure, formed by these
three lines of cabins, was an open shed; a mere roof supported by posts,
say thirty by fifty feet, in which was a coarse pulpit and log seats. A
few tall trees were standing within the area, and many stumps scattered
here and there. The whole establishment was in the depth of a forest,
and wild and rude as can well be imagined.
"In many of these sparsely-inhabited counties there are no settled
clergy, and rarely do the people hear any other than the Methodist
preachers. Here is the itinerating system of Wesley exhibited in its
full usefulness. The circuits are usually of three weeks' duration, in
which the clergymen preach daily. Most of these preachers are energetic,
devoted men; and often they endure great privations.
"After sketching the encampment I came in a few moments to the dwelling
of the sheriff. Close by it was a group of mountain men and women seated
around a log cabin, about twelve feet square, ten high, and open at the
top, into which these neighbors of my companion were casting ears of
corn as fast as they could shuck them. Cheerfully they performed their
task. The men were large and hardy; the damsels plump and rosy, and all
dressed in good warm homespun. The sheriff informed me that he owned
about two thousand acres around his dwelling, and that his farm was
worth about one thousand dollars or fifty cents an acre.
"I entered his log domicile which was one story in height, about twenty
feet square and divided into two small rooms without windows or places
to let in the light except by a front and rear door. I soon partook of
a meal in which we had a variety of luxuries, not omitting _bear's
meat_. A blessing was asked at the table by one of the neighbors. After
supper the bottle, as usual at corn huskings, was circulated. The
sheriff learning that I was a Washingtonian, with the politeness of one
of nature's gentlemen refrained from urging me to participate. The men
drank but moderately; and we all drew around the fire, the light of
which was the only one we had. Hunting stories and kindred topics served
to talk down the hours till bed time.
"On awaking in the morning, I saw two women cooking breakfast in my
bedroom, and three men seated over the fire watching the operation.
After breakfast, I bade my host farewell, buckled on my knapsack and
left. In the course of two hours, I came to a cabin by the wayside.
There being no gate, I sprang over the fence, entered the open door, and
was received with a hearty welcome. It was an humble dwelling, the abode
of poverty. The few articles of furniture were neat and pleasantly
arranged. In the corner stood two beds, one hung with curtains, and both
with coverlets of snowy white, contrasting with the dingy log walls,
rude furniture, and rough boarded floor of this, the only room in the
dwelling. Around a cheerful fire was seated an interesting family
group. In one corner, on the hearth, sat the mother, smoking a pipe.
Next to her was a little girl, in a small chair, holding a young kitten.
In the opposite corner sat a venerable old man, of herculean stature,
robed in a hunting shirt, and with a countenance as majestic and
impressive as that of a Roman senator. In the centre of the group was a
young maiden, modest and retiring, not beautiful, except in that moral
beauty virtue gives. She was reading to them from a little book. She was
the only one of the family who could read, and she could do so but
imperfectly. In that small volume was the whole secret of the neatness
and happiness found in this lonely cot. That little book was the New
Testament."
The institution of camp-meetings, introduced with so much success by the
Methodists, those noble pioneers of Christianity, seem to have been the
necessary result of the attempt to preach to the sparsely settled
population of a new country. The following is said to be the origin of
those camp-meetings which have done incalculable good, socially,
intellectually, and religiously.
In the year 1799, two men by the name of McGee, one a Presbyterian, the
other a Methodist, set out on a missionary tour together, to visit the
log-houses in the wilderness. A meeting was appointed at a little
settlement upon one of the tributaries of the Ohio. The pioneers
flocked to the place from many miles around. There was no church there,
and the meeting was necessarily held in the open air. Many brought their
food with them and camped out. Thus the meeting, with exhortation and
prayer, was continued in the night. Immense bonfires blazed illuminating
the sublimities of the forest, and the assembled congregation, cut off
from all the ordinary privileges of civilized life, listened devoutly to
the story of a Savior's love.
This meeting was so successful in its results that another was appointed
at a small settlement on the banks of a stream called Muddy river. The
tidings spread rapidly through all the stations and farm houses on the
frontier. It afforded these lonely settlers a delightful opportunity of
meeting together. They could listen for hours with unabated interest to
the religious exercises. The people assembled from a distance of forty
or fifty miles around. A vast concourse had met beneath the foliage of
the trees, the skies alone, draped with clouds by day and adorned with
stars by night, the dome of their majestic temple.
The scene, by night, must have been picturesque in the extreme. Men,
women and children were there in homespun garb; and being accustomed to
camp life, they were there in comfort. Strangers met and became friends.
Many wives and mothers obtained rest and refreshment from their
monotonous toils. There is a bond in Christ's discipleship, stronger
than any other, and Christians grasped hands in love, pledging
themselves anew to a holy life. For several days and nights, this
religious festival was continued. Time could not have been better spent.
Dwellers in the forest could not afford to take so long a journey merely
to listen to one half-hour's discourse. These men and women were earnest
and thoughtful. In the solitude of their homes, they had reflected
deeply upon life and its issues. When death occasionally visited their
cabins, it was a far more awful event than when death occurs in the
crowded city, where the hearse is every hour of every day passing
through the streets.
These scenes of worship very deeply impressed the minds of the people.
They were not Gospel hardened. The gloom and silence of the forest,
alike still by night and by day; the memory of the past, with its few
joys and many griefs; the anticipations of the future, with its
unceasing struggles, to terminate only in death; the solemnity which
rested on every countenance; the sweet melody of the hymns; the earnest
tones of the preachers in exhortation and prayer, all combined to
present a scene calculated to produce a very profound impression upon
the human mind. At this meeting, not only professed Christians were
greatly revived, but not less than a hundred persons, it was thought,
became disciples of the Savior.
Another camp-meeting was soon after appointed to meet on Desha's Creek,
a small stream flowing into the Cumberland river. The country was now
becoming more populous, and several thousand were assembled. And thus
the work went on, multitudes being thus reached by the preached Gospel
who could not be reached in any other way.[A]
[Footnote A: Bang's History of Methodism.]
Life on the frontier was by no means devoid of its enjoyments as well as
of its intense excitements. It must have been also an exceedingly busy
life. There were no mills for cutting timber or grinding corn; no
blacksmith shops to repair the farming utensils. There were no
tanneries, no carpenters, shoemakers, weavers. Every family had to do
everything for itself. The corn was pounded with a heavy pestle in a
large mortar made by burning an excavation in a solid block of wood. By
means of these mortars the settlers, in regions where saltpetre could be
obtained, made very respectable gunpowder. In making corn-meal a grater
was sometimes used, consisting of a half-circular piece of tin,
perforated with a punch from the concave side. The ears of corn were
rubbed on the rough edges, and the meal fell through the holes on a
board or cloth placed to receive it. They also sometimes made use of a
handmill, resembling those alluded to in the Bible. These consisted of
two circular stones; the lowest, which was immovable, was called the
bed-stone,--the upper one, the runner. Two persons could grind together
at this mill.
The clothing was all of domestic manufacture. A fabric called
linsey-woolsey was most frequently in use and made the most substantial
and warmest clothing. It was made of flax and wool, the former the warp,
the latter the filling. Every cabin almost had its rude loom, and every
woman was a weaver.
The men tanned their own leather. A large trough was sunk in the ground
to its upper edge. Bark was shaved with an axe and pounded with a
mallet. Ashes were used for lime in removing the hair. In the winter
evenings the men made strong shoes and moccasins, and the women cut out
and made hunting shirts, leggins and drawers.
Hunting was a great source of amusement as well as a very exciting and
profitable employment. The boys were all taught to imitate the call of