A Story of 1819 written by Calvin TUNNELL, Greene County, Illinois Contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives Copyright 2000 Jim A STORY OF 1819, WITH SCENE LAID NEAR CARROLLTON, ILLINOIS BY CALVIN TUNNELL Dear Granddaughters: Having been requested to write out an account or a little history of an interesting incident of my early life, I now commence by premising that at the time of which I write, my family consisted of my wife and my two oldest sons, William A. and Daniel L. It was on the fourteenth day of February, 1819, about the time the sun was sinking down to rest behind the western horizon, that I, with my family, arrived at my little log cabin or shanty. half a mile south of where I now live. The cabin was built of small, round logs, making one room of fifteen by twelve feet. It had no door to close the entrance. My wife hung up a quilt to stop the aperature through which we made our ingress and egress, and to separate our little happy family from the prowling monsters of the desert which were roaming about the country. At this time there were but few animals more abundant than the wolves; they were often seen in gangs of four or five and sometimes more. They seldom attacked people--though they did on some occasions; a gang attacked Low Jackson in Madison County, but he had his rifle and shot several of them before they would desist. He was more fortunate, however, than a man near the head of Apple Creek in Morgan County, whose name I have now forgotten. He was helping a neighbor butcher hogs and, being late, concluded to stay over night, but got up before day and started home and fell in with a gang of wolves, which devoured him. It was thought the scent of the blood on his clothes tended to induce the attack. I had not the time to do anything to make us more comfortable than we then were. I had to go back to Madison County, forty miles after another load and to attend to some other business, before the ground would thaw and make the prairies impassible; we had no roads at that time. I was gone nearly a week. While I was gone, my wife got up one morning very early, while the morning twilight was yet lingering on the vision. When she stepped out of doors, she discovered a very large black wolf sitting on his haunches in the yard. She immediately stepped back into the shanty and took my rifle from its place and went to the door to shoot him, but to her chagrene and mortification, by some unaccountable means the best of double triggers had got out of fix, so they would not throw the hammer. When she found she could not shoot him, she commenced hollowing and making a display as though she intended to attack him, but he for some time kept his position and sat barking a little at her, but she kept moving slowly towards him hollowing and clapping her hands when he finally galloped off as gracefully as if he felt himself at home. He would occasionally stop, turn and look back as if he had a mind to return but soon disappeared in the forest. On my return I found my family somewhat displeased with that kind of neighbors but seemed to rejoice that no Indians had come to the house during my absence. They had burned off everything that was not impervious to fire-- not a spear of grass was left for our stock to feed on. We learned there was a little green grass about the margin of the lakes, where the fire could not reach it in the Illinois bottom. James Caldwell, who lived half a mile west of me, and myself concluded to drive our cattle thither. We agreed upon a morning not very distant to drive them early. The weather was very fine. Boreas had returned to the northwest and lain down to rest behind the Rocky Mountains, while old Sol taking advantage of his absence was bringing up all his forces from the south to take possession of this latitude; we were already being warmed and animated by the celestial influence of his genial rays and every aspect of nature seemed to indicate the new approach of an early spring. When the morning for our departure arrived we were scarcely able to distinguish objects through the dimness of the morning twilight--my wife had breakfast early. When we had finished our repast, I stepped out to make arrangements for starting. At this moment old Sol was just lifting himself up above the eastern horizon; he was richly clad in the most superb habilments of morning glory, having gracefully drawn around himself all the soft and mellow tints of the rainbow and I mounted my black horse, which I called "Flint" thinking that name most appropriate on account of his inflexible spirit, his indomitable courage, and his almost unexampled powers of endurance. I also took my rifle, which I called "Old Brimstone" as a tribute to her faithfulness and powers to do execution. I had recently had a new stock put to her which was sugar-maple and although plain, was neat and tasteful--she also had one of the best locks I ever saw, which was new. She was three feet eight inches in the barrel and of large calebree carrying about forty balls to the pound; she never missed fire and always threw her balls in the right direction; indeed she was true to the center as Judge Douglass was to the principles of free government. In those days my sight was unerring* and my aim was deadly. I laid her across the saddle behind me to have her out of the way, a slight pressure in the seat would preserve her iquinemity. Being thus equipped my wife took a little colt and went before, tolling such of the cattle as would follow her while I drove up the rear until we got them in company with Mr. Caldwell's cattle, when he and I drove them on through what is called the "south rich woods", which was all burned off smooth and was so loose and mellow that even the small kinds of animals in passing over it would leave the impress of their feet on the virgin soil, which had never been pressed by the feet of the white man. Nothing of interest occured until we had passed down the bluff into a deep hollow, we came to a beautiful spring where we stopped a few moments and slacked our thirst. This spring was in a narrow valley through which the little streamlet upon which Taylor afterwards built his saw mill was coursing its winding way and purling along its tortuous channel over the little shoals and pebbles to the Illinois bottom, where it empties itself and finds repose in the inertia of a small lake. Nothing could be more beautiful and lovely than this little stream in the wilderness while gently murmuring over the little shoals and pebbles rustling along its narrow channel, breathing and sending forth its cooling and invigorating exhalations reminding the lonely hunter of Syloame or the celebrated waters of the great pool of Bethesda. When we had passed the spring a few hundred yards, we came to a grove of sugar maple, intersperced with ash and a few other kinds of timber; the lofty sugar maple here studed the grove, standing as straight as so many candles and were so thick together with other timber that there was no room for underbrush. This grove was located in the depths of and recesses of solitude and appeared to be nothing else but the home of God where all nature worships in truth. It was not entirely detached from the surrounding forest, yet there were from thirty to forty acres, clothed with a different kind of timber and apparently of a younger growth than the balance which made it appear somewhat isolated. There appeared to be something about this little spot of earth that was romantic and peculiar to itself, something beautiful and lovely beyond description, so charming as to call the mind away from the sublinary things to a celestial world something that inspires the human soul with all the strivery emotions of immortality and lifted it up to God in the most devout adoration and praise. Here the honey bees were seen wafting themselves upon the light air and sounding their soft and pleasant business hum as they were sucking the sweet nectarene from the buds and blossoms of the trees where nature had strewn it in the greatest profusion and were depositing in their beautiful and delicate honey cups in the trees of the surrounding forest. Here the salient squirrel might be seen seated on a limb, with his fuzzy tail gracefully turned over his back chatting to his neighbors or springing from limb to limb with that agility that is so peculiar to his race. Here the red bird could also be seen perched upon the top- most limb of a sugar maple, from whence he was sounding his clarion notes while with warbling song in lulling strains he turned the nuptial lay and sent Cupid forth to invoke response and woo his lady love while she in the distance was busily engaged in collecting bits of grass, the hair of wild animals and picking particles of lint off the nettles, which had escaped the devouring flames, with which she was making arrangements for an early incubation and while thus engaged--would herself occasionally touch the warbling story and in softest tones would echo back with plighted faith the invocation at her loved one. All the feathered songsters of the grove seemed to join together in one holy concert to increase the voluptuous swell and add pleasure and beauty to the music of the hour; no more could warble sweeter, nothing could be more cheering to the lonely hunter than the inspiration of this musical devotion, nothing could excel the soft and mellow notes of vocal music that floated on the gentle breeze cheering all nature with its sweetness. Even the under leaves of the forest which were just bursting forth from their petals were seemingly made to tremble by the ascent of the songs of praise that all animated nature was sending up from one common alter to the throne of God. This was a place not to be desired as a dwelling but as a place of retreat. If the white man could only have viewed it as I then did in all its pristine beauty and loveliness, he would have spared it. If it had remained until now I should often repair thither to it as a place of retreat from the busy world, where I could spend a few hours in the sweetness of solitude and meet with God and consult him about the wisdom of his laws by which he preserves so much order and harmony in his animal and vegetable kingdoms. But every aspect of nature has been changed by the laws of inevitable necessity, the ever varying vicisitudes of time, even this once beautiful grove has long since fallen before the heavy axes of Taylor, Dayton, and McCauley. In that lovely grove, where all animated nature once worshipped the true God and rung praises to the Great Jehovah, the white man now offer up sacrifices to mammon; where the red man of the wilderness once roamed at his own will and pleasure, he is no longer seen lifting up his mighty form from his own seat in the rude wigwam to persue with bold and fearless tread the elk, the bear, or the deer. He is no longer found here exulting in the excellency of his strength and prowess. He has submitted to the irrisistible laws of necessity and with proud and manly tread like all his race is making his way to the setting sun-- where the rude wigwam once more sent up columns of blue smoke, curling in beauty and grandure to mingle with the clouds of Heaven, the pale face now live and revel in almost princely dwellings and are rendering obedience to that first and great command. "Be faithful, multiply and replenish the earth and subdue it" (or reduce it to cultivation). Civilization has taken the place of savage rudeness--the bear no longer makes his lair in the dim and almost impenetrable thicket west of the grove. The savage wolf no longer prowls the desert howling over his victim. The majestic panther is no more heard screaming his piercing signal as he leaps upon his prey in these deep tangled wildwoods. All is changed. The majestic bluff although it still retains traces of antiquity and unwritten history, has somewhat lost its prestige by becoming familiar to us. The beautiful little stream still ripples along its narrow channel; its little curling waves, smiling and dancing on the surface calling to the recollection of the pioneer the ancient grandure and glory of the scenery--when we saw the thousands of bees sucking the sacharine juice from the common nectar in the buds and blossoms of the trees. Mr. Caldwell proposed to me to let the cattle rest an hour while we would look about the forest and find a bee tree. I had not yet learned the art of finding bees, though I had found a few trees. We hitched our horses and he went to the hills south of the branch, while I took a southeasterly course along the hill sides and the deep hollows. When I had hunted round and formed almost a circle and was coming back towards the cattle and when I ascended a hill, the altitude of which was perhaps forty or fifty feet, having gained the summit, I found a panorama of almost the entire circle I had made. I was walking slowly along as bee hunters generally do. On turning my eyes downward and to the left, I, for the first time, discovered a panther of the largest size--he was then lying ten or twelve feet from me, placing his feet under him and seemingly feeling the ground and was just ready to spring onto me. Three or four feet more would bring me onto a direct line with him. I suppose he was waiting for me to arrive at that point before he would attack me. When I first saw him, he was looking me in the eye. His vast proportions revealed to me a mass of nerve and muscle to which I had been a stranger; he had evidently been watching me with a great deal of interest and I had not come within his reach, he was able at one short leap to pounce upon me and his ponderous weight and impulsive muscle, together with the force of such a leap was sufficient to crush me into the earth in a moment. I would have been no more in his paws than a mouse would be in the paws of a cat. His great yellow eyes with their lurid glare were fastened upon me and were scanning me through and through with their piercing darts as if he had intended to look me down, and as soon as he could see me quail under the keenness of his eye, would pounce upon me and make me an easy prey. I saw that the "impending crisis" had come and the irrepressible conflict was about to commence. There I stood in the open sunlight solitary and alone; no human being in less than 6 or 7 miles except Mr. Caldwell, who perhaps was not in hearing of my rifle. There seemed to be no living thing to witness the approaching contest or to make known the result. The first thought that presented itself to my mind was that God had made man in his own image and created him after his own likeness and had placed the fear of him and the dread of him on all the beasts of the field and the forest, and I concluded that this keeneyed monster after all, had not the courage to spring onto me so long as I looked him in the eye. I took care to keep my eye on his, thinking he would cower under the penetration of it, but there was no cowering there. No one can have, unless he has been placed on similar circumstances, the least conception of the amount of thinking I did in one second of time, yet the thought that man who was made in the image of God could feel a sensation of fear never came into my mind. I was not alarmed at all with fear but remained perfectly cool and self-possessed. I saw the perilous or critical situation I was in; I saw plainly that he or I must die instantly and that everything depended on my manhood, which I felt conscious would not forsake me. I saw the necessity of giving him a sure shot for if I gave him a random shot he would be on me in an instant, and I was so near to him that there was no escape. I found my whole system braced up to the greatest intensity, my nerves were strung to their utmost tension. I felt prepared for the conflict; my nerves had perhaps never before been so steady as they now were, while physically, I felt the strength of a horse, my mental powers for the moment became gigantic. I was able to do more thinking in one short second than I had ever done in a week; indeed, my mind so expanded for the moment and became so quick and powerful that the evolutions of thought rolled through it with the velocity of lightning and gave directions to my action. What seems to me, now, to be somewhat remarkable is that the conclusions I arrived at instantaneously were in the main as correct as though I had studied them a lifetime. This, it seems to me, could not be the power of natural instinct. I felt as if I was strengthened and buoyed up by the inspiration of some supernatural power. The critical moment arrived when past and future mingled together and became merged in the present and my whole life was compressed into a moment. Heaven and earth with all their hosts seemed to be hushed in eternal silence and it seemed as if the Angels of Life and of Death and I had met there to decide the contest. There was no qualling on either side, we looked each other defiantly and full in the eye until I saw the fierceness of his countenance begin to kindle up and exhibit an anxiety and eagerness of an intensity which I know of no words with sufficient meaning to describe. His large yellow eyes before as keen as those of the eagle, now began to emit and send forth scintillations of fire. I laid my rifle to my face and took the most deliberate aim and as the muscles about his jaws and shoulders began alternately to contract and swell, and the chest began to swell and heave with concentrated power, I touched the trigger. Old Brimstone now broke the still and painful silence by sending forth a peal that caused the earth to tremble beneath my feet and then resounded through the still air, reverberating from hill to hill, then echoed back like thunder rolling through the vault of Heaven and bursting forth again upon the earth. At the moment I touched the trigger he leaped from the earth, but fell again in almost the same spot. I concluded that he was in the act of jumping when the gun fired and I had missed my aim and given him but a random shot after all and he would be on me as soon as he recovered a little from his wound. I now remembered that men in times of great emergencies would sometimes load their guns without powder and that I must guard against so fatal a mistake. I took no time to measure my powder in my charger, I turned up my horn and poured what I thought a common charge into my rifle. I then sent down a naked ball, retaining the ramrod in my left hand to reload if necessary. I threw her across my left arm and pinned her. All this time (which was but a moment for I do not think that any man ever loaded a rifle in less time than I then did) he was making leap after leap but could not reach me. As I finished priming he made his last grand leap and he sunk down to rise no more. It was the great death struggle, the last mighty effort of an expiring monster. As yet, I had not moved out of my tracks. He now lay three steps from me in the last struggles of death which struggles became weaker and weaker for a few moments, when he breathed his last and lay prostrated at my feet. The "crisis" had now passed, the danger was over, and the "irrepressible conflict" was ended. There he lay stretched out at full length; his skin when taken off stretching nine and a half feet, from tip to tip. I now surveyed him in all his grand proportions; nature perhaps never formed an animal better suited to its purpose or in more perfect harmony with the office it was designed to fill than he was. His symmetry of form was perfect and majestic. Indeed no animal could be found with its powers distributed and organized better than his were. Such extraordinary muscular power can be found in no other animal except the lion and the tiger. He still retained strong traces of departed majesty. Yet notwithstanding the exquisite beauty and symmetry of his form there was something in his countenance and general appearance that was offensive and repulsive in the extreme. His agile form, his extraordinary muscle, and the perfect organization of his great powers exhibited a perfect image of ferocity. I now took hold to feel the weight of him, I could not raise him from the ground. When I had viewed him in all the minutia of his form and extraordinary powers so well organized, I began to realize the danger I had so narrowly escaped. I now felt very thankful when I reflected that that guardian Angel, who had so often stood by me in the hour of trial and delivered me from the evils that surrounded me, had not yet forsaken me. My feelings overcame me and I was no more myself. I turned my eyes downward and saw my knees beginning to tremble a little and in an instant my whole system relaxed, my nerves became unstrung and I felt weak as a child. I now felt shame, because I could retain my manhood no longer, but after passing through this severe ordeal it deserted me and my nerve fled at the very moment when I saw the danger was over and left me trembling like a leaf of the forest, when fluttering in the breeze and unable to decide even for myself whether, after all, I was really a brave man or a coward. I went back to the cattle. Mr. Caldwell arrived soon after. We then drove the cattle on to the little lake into which the little stream aforesaid empties itself where we found plenty of green grass for the cattle. We then turned homeward. When coming nearly to the grove where we saw a few old looking trees standing in a dense and almost impenetrable thicket on the west side of the grove. We hitched our horses and made our way in as best we could. I soon found a very nice bee tree. We then went home--it was night. After supper I told my family all about the day's hunt and showed them the skin of the panther. My wife then told me she had also been out hunting that day and had found a bee tree. I inquired how she managed to make her hunt so successful. Some of the logs of which our shanty was built were hickory. She said the bees came in great abundance to suck the sap that exuded from the ends of them. She watched them until she got their course. She noticed they went past several trees which stood in a row. She got the youngest boy, who was 2« years old, to sleep and left the other, who was 4« to mind him. While the bees were sucking the sap, she sprinkled a little sulphur on them, and immediately started on the course, keeping a row of trees in range before her. She soon went a quarter of a mile when she found them in a state of great excitement pouring out of the tree as if they had a mind to swarm; the sulphur had distracted them. I cut the tree for her; we got three gallons of honey, which was worth a dollar per gallon, and ten pounds of wax, which was worth 28 cents per pound. Calvin Tunnell The foregoing was given to my parents by Lucy Ball, author of the Tunnell history in Notable Southern Families. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ USGENWEB NOTICE: These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or presentation by other organizations or persons. 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