Passing Through Pollard - 1873, By Rev. R.W. Brooks, Escambia, Alabama http://files.usgwarchives.net/al/escambia/history/rwbrooks.txt ==================================================================== USGENWEB PROJECT NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, data may be used by non-commercial entities, as long as this message remains on all copied material. These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or for presentation by other persons or organizations. Persons or organizations desiring to use this material for purposes other than stated above must obtain the written consent of the file contributor. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Project Archives to store this file permanently for free access. This file is copyrighted and contributed by: Lygia Cutts ==================================================================== September 1998 Passing Through Pollard - 1873 Baptist Association, Belleville, AL By Rev. R.W. Brooks Written in the early 1930's On the 15th of October, 1873, Friday Morning, Martin Hare and I started out from our home in Florida, which was 5 miles south of Flomaton, to go to the Bethelehem Association which met at Belleville on Saturday. There had beena drouth for four or six weeks. We started off in an open buggy, with a long bodied mare pulling it. Considering those horse and buggy days, we made good time, arriving at Burnt Corn that evening. We stopped at the home of Jack Oliver, and spent the night. Before bed time one of the Oliver boys came in and said our mare was sick with colic. The sick horse brought many neighbors and almost all of them had a remedy for sick horses. Most of the remedies were tried on the poor sick mare, but about ten o'clock she died. Whether all the medicine killed her or the colic I never knew, but one thing I did know, we were horseless! My friend had to have something to pull his buggy back home so he went to a mule dealer in Belleville, and bought a mouse colored mule, with zebra streaked legs. He gave a draft on Eppin-Bellas and Co. of Pensacola for $175.00. I thought then and still think it was too mych, and before we got home with that mule I was sure a nickle with a hole in it that was about his value. When we left Belleville I took the mule's halter and was leading him behind the buggy, when he planted his front feet down and stopped dead still. The rope went through my hands so fast it almost caught fire. I got out, and caught the rope, and made a half hitch around the buggy axle, as we started off again. He went nicely for half mile when the mule did the same thing as before, lifting the men, buggy and all off the ground. The rope held this time so he did not try it anymore, as it almost jerked his head a loose. We finally got back to Oliver's. gave him his pony and hitched up the mule. That was the most sociable mule I ever saw. When we came to a house he always went up to the gate and stopped, without consulting the driver. When we would approach a dwelling on the road, Mr. Hare would begin to pull off line, but the mule would stick out his tingue and go right on to the house and stop. We would manage to get him away, and as luck would have it in those days houses were few and far between. After leaving Oliver's the rain stopped but when we got to Pollard, Little Escambia Creek was a raging torrent. George Bradley, whom we knew, said he would get us across the creek by putting the buggy on a "Billy", a thing made of poles spiked together, and float it across. Mr. Bradley said he would also swim the mule across. The gentleman was in the habit of getting drunk and at this time he was almost past going. After we got the buggy across, he got on the mule and began kicking him in th side. Finally the mule made one long jump and landed in the middle of the cree, Mr. Bradley going down with him. The mule rose up on his hind legs and made one more jump to reach the shore. Mr. Bradley was a sober man as you ever saw at this time. I was young in those days and anything would start me laughing. Hare and I being safe, on the side of the creek towards home, we both just about bursted our suspenders at Bradley's predicament. When we got to Big Escambia, the Ferry boat was washed down towards Ferry Pass. We left the mule with a Mr. Knowles, the Ferry Man, and walked 5 miles down the railroad home. I never saw that mule but once more and that was enough for me. Source: JDDC Library, AL Room, Vertical File: Pollard.