Davie-Rowan County NcArchives News.....Mocksville October 4, 1845
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Glinda Edmonds GDVEdmonds@aol.com January 3, 2010, 5:50 pm

The Carolina Watchman October 4, 1845
                                  MOCKSVILLE
We imagine some of our far off readers will ask themselves where is 
this “Mocksville,” and what sort of place is it?  Well, whoever is ignorant of 
Mocksville, must live themselves in some dark corner of the earth, where they 
see as rarely as they are seen, and where no lumbering news cart ever disturb 
their rest; or, it may be, grope their way in gross darkness, though ten 
thousand rays of rich light are streaming all around them.  Mocksville! - why 
Mocksville is a pretty village situated on almost the only sandy ridge in 
Davie county, and we presume the whole world knows Davie county.  Why Davie 
county! she’s a daughter of old Rowan, the great mother of counties!  She lies 
up here a few miles to the North of us, South river being the dividing line; 
and a richer, more fertile and yet more healthy region, the sun never shone 
upon.  Her farmers are a very clever independent set, and they raise the 
biggest hogs up there that ever grunted, - we can prove it.  Ah! and they 
raise fine tobacco too, and a good deal of it of late years; and cotton, and 
corn, and oats, and rye, and such master crops of wheat; and they make lots of 
whiskey, and brandy, and bacon.  Well, as we were saying, Mocksville is 
situated on a sandy ridge near the centre of Davie county, and what is a very 
remarkable fact, the water that falls from the eves of the Court-house on one 
side, runs off into the South river, whilst that that falls from the eves on 
the other side runs into the big Yadkin.  So that there is no doubt but 
Mocksville is situated on a ridge, and we have had occular proof that it is a 
sandy ridge.  This circumstance gives it a clean, healthy appearance, just 
what in fact it is.  The streets are laid off North and South; and a large 
area is left for the Court-house, which occupies a central position in the 
village; and a more tasty Court-hours will rarely be seen.  There are two 
Churches already there, and a third one about to be built.  The Presbyterian 
Society have a very large brick church, whose desk is statedly filled by the 
Rev. William Hall.  The Methodist Episcopal Society have a large framed 
church, which is supplied by “Circuit Riders” and by the Rev. Baxter Clegg, 
who also has charge of an excellent male school, in the village.  The church 
now in the progress of erection, is by the Episcopalians.

Mocksville is not a very large place now, no, but when that Rail Road is built 
from the seaboard, running up the valley of the Yadkin, to stop right there, 
why then, ah! then you’ll see a Town.  But Mocksville, as she is, is a 
pleasant looking place, and her people seem to be entertaining and 
industrious; and we are certain that her population has increased considerably 
within the last few years.  There are five stores there to wit: John McRorie, 
Esq., Lemuel Bingham, Esq., the Messrs Gowan, Mr. Wm. Watts, and Mr. Thompson, 
(and one “doggery.”) [And here let us ask the question, how is it that some of 
the merchants of Mocksville are underselling those of Salisbury?  On the day 
before we left home, we heard a Salisbury merchant asking $3 a sack for Salt, 
and fifty cents for Molasses; on the next day at Mocksville, we saw Salt sold 
at $2.75 and Molasses at 40. This is something new, but it is true.] There is 
there, also, a Cotton Factory, the property of Thomas McNeely, Esq., with a 
Wool Carding Machine and Grist Mill attached, all going to by steam; also, in 
the vicinity, a small steam saw mill.  All the various branches of business 
common in a country like ours are carried on there, and apparently with 
success to those engaged in them.  The Hotels - the commodations there are 
decidedly fine: The Union Hotel, is the house we stopped at - it’s a grand 
place: it is now in the hands of H. & R. Reynolds, gentlemen who understand 
their business well.  The building is entirely new, very large and 
conveniently and comfortably arranged, well finished and pleasing to the eye.  
The table was well furnished and bountifully - so was the Bar, and our poney 
fared well beyond a doubt.  But there is another House in Mocksville, by 
Lemuel Bingham, Esq.  Now, Mr. Bingham was once a Typo, and then an editor for 
many years.  He was a pattern then, and is likely so to continue in this 
life. - He is just one of those sort of men who knows how things should be 
done, and knowing does.  Both these houses are well patronised during Court 
weeks, and it is only on such public occasions, we imagine, that they have 
much company; for we do not suppose there is much travelling through those 
parts, except by Wagoners and Cartmen from Surry, Wilkes and Ashe, who come 
down into the flats to trade, and they always bring with them a supply of meat 
and bread, and butter and cheese to last them through their journey.  One 
thing struck our attention, which, if we were a landlord in Mocksville, we 
would look upon with a sneer, slightly mixed with jealousy!  We mean the 
barbacues.  A portion of the people of Davie are the rarest folk in this way 
that we ever come up with in all our travels.  We’ve never been there on a 
public or Court day, but we have seen some dozen barbacued pigs, and lambs, 
reposing in solemn silence on large dishes spread upon long tables, arranged 
under that fine grove of oaks a short distance west of the Court House.  They 
are always there, and always well attended to, owing, no doubt to the fact, 
that they are “cheap for cash.”

 We remember hearing, sometime ago, that a poor devil of a negro barbacued a 
dog and sold him out by the meal, in that same beautiful grove of oaks; and as 
we passed along by those roasted animals the other day, we detected ourselves 
regarding each with a searching and suspiciuos eye.  But we saw nothing that 
seemed to belong to the canine family: The poor negro who introduced “bow-wow” 
years ago, experienced such a sad reverse of fortune on account of it, that no 
one has, we believe, ever had the temerity to attempt it again.



Additional Comments:
Published on October 4, 1845; The Carolina Watchman, Salisbury, North Carolina.

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