BIO & HISTORY: Daniel M. Bare, 1920, Roaring Spring, Blair County, PA - Part 1 Contributed May 2003 by J. Goddard and Judy Banja Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/blair/ _________________________________________ Looking Eighty Years Backward and A History of Roaring Spring, Pa. D. M. BARE COLLEGE PRESS FINDLAY, OHIO 1920 INTRODUCTION What may be written on the following pages is respectfully dedicated to my worthy grandson, Ivan, at whose suggestion I conceived the idea of writing of some of the things that I was familiar with in my boyhood and early manhood days, believing that the changes of customs and manners of living that have taken place during the past three-fourths of a century might interest the present generation. - D. M. B. Roaring Spring, Pa. 1920. CONTENTS PART I. A COVE FARMER BOY SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO PART II. FROM BOYHOOD TO MIDDLE LIFE, WITH PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF MEN AND EVENTS IN MORRISON'S COVE. PART III. A HISTORY OF ROARING SPRING AND VICINITY <<<:>>> PART I. A COVE FARMER BOY SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO [9] I was born in Sinking Valley, Blair County, Penna., on the 24th day of October, 1834, on the farm now occupied by Mr. Lee Fleck. The present house and barn were built by my father; the buildings are yet in excellent condition. On or about the first day of April, 1837, my parents moved from Sinking Valley to Three Springs, in the southern part of Huntingdon County. After moving away I had never been back to Sinking Valley until the summer of 1914, when in company with Mr. and Mrs. Cree and Russell Garver I visited the old home. At the time of our leaving Sinking Valley our family consisted of Peter, Mary Ann, Sarah and Daniel Mathias, Peter had never been a healthy boy and died Jan. 28th, 1839, a little past 19 years of age. His remains lie buried in the cemetery at Saltillo, Pa. I cannot now remember anything earlier than my brother's death; I have a dim recollection of that event. I was then a little past four years of age. There is another thing that occurred about that time of which I have a hazy recollection. There was a school house located on our farm, probably 30 or (10) 40 rods away from the house, which my sisters attended and one afternoon they took me along to school. It was the custom then for the boys to sit on one side of the stove and the girls on the other; I don't know on what side I was but I wanted to change sides and started across, just in front of the teacher's table, but before I got very far the teacher shoved out a good sized ruler towards my head, but before head and ruler came together I had scampered back to my own side. These two circumstances are given to show how far into the past my memory runs. I will relate another little occurrence that happened probably a year or more later. Three Springs' creek ran within 10 or 12 rods of our front door and I became the possessor of a hook and line and became a fisherman. One day there was a heavy rain and the stream became somewhat swollen and about that time my good big-hearted sister, Sarah, discovered that Danny wasn't about anywhere; perhaps he had been fishing and fell into the creek and was drowned. And much quicker than I can tell it she started for the stream and followed it, I suppose on a fast run, at least as far down as the next farm house, at which I think she inquired and came back taking a big cry. Just a little before or a little after she arrived, Danny came crawling out of a closet where he had been taking a good afternoon nap, perfectly (11) oblivious to the trouble and distress that he had created. The old school house on our farm was abandoned probably at the end of the term which I referred to above and our family was then obliged to go to the school house at Ashman's Mill, now Three Springs, about one and one-third miles distant. To that school I went with my two sisters during the winter of 1840- 41. To that school the Ashmans, the Hecks, the Drakes, the Hudsons, the Greens and the Bares went. Mr. Kinzie L. Green was a prominent citizen of that community and the grandfather of Mrs. Albert Spanogle. Two or three of Mrs. Spanogle's aunts went to that school the same time that I did. While living at Three Springs my father became postmaster. I have a little recollection of the postoffice having been kept in one of the living rooms of our house. I think the mail was received once or perhaps twice a week. I hardly think there were any city papers that came then; I have a slight recollection of Huntingdon papers coming to that office, probably the Journal and the Globe. I have a dim recollection of a Moses Greenland coming to the office and stopping long enough to look over and read one of the Huntingdon papers belonging to some one else, perhaps our women-folk didn't enjoy his stay as much as he did. While on the subject of mail matter it might (12) be interesting to note the rate of letter postage 75 years ago. From a recent clipping on that subject I find that 100 years ago the following rates were paid: One sheet of paper sent 30 miles, six cents; one sheet of paper sent 80 miles, 10 cents; one sheet of paper sent 400 miles, 18 3/4 cents; and more than 400 miles, 25 cents. There may have been some reductions 21 years later as I have a dim recollection of a six cent rate and a 12 1/2 cent rate At the time we had the office and for some years later there were no envelopes and no note paper. A sheet of paper then used for letter writing was about the size of a page of our foolscap paper; it was cut in single sheets and not folded as at present. You only wrote on one side of this sheet and then turned in the edges and folded it up envelope size, and when put together, it was sealed with a red round wafer about the size of a dime. I think the postmaster then wrote "paid" on the face of the letter, for I don't think there were any rubber stamps at that time. Postage stamps did not come into use until the year 1847; I do not remember when envelopes came first into use but probably about the time stamps were introduced. At the time we had the postoffice mails were light and were carried on horseback in leather saddle bags which were secured by a leather strap and a government lock. I think the nearest postoffice to Three Springs was Cassville, seven miles distant; (13) Orbisonia was eight miles, Fort Littleton 11 miles, and Shirleysburg, the largest town in that vicinity, was 12 miles distant. I think the most of our trading was done at Cassville where Mr. Speer, the grandfather of Robert E. Speer, the missionary secretary of the Presbyterian church, kept a country store. I remember going with my parents to this store and after the purchases had been made Mrs. Speer entertained my mother while Mr. Speer took father and I out to the pig pen to show us a nice litter of young piggies. Those were the days of real old-fashioned sociability. In western parlance you go to the store to "trade". In the time I am writing about that word expresses the fact very correctly, the farmer took or sent his butter and eggs to the store and traded it on sugar and coffee and calico and muslin and a few other articles of necessity. Luxuries were not usually on the list. My sister while living at Three Springs would fill up a pretty good sized market basket with butter and eggs and then mount old Tom and ride to Cassville or Fort Littleton and "trade". "Butter Monkeys" (peddlers) were unknown in those days. Talking of trading butter for sugar reminds me of the fact that the inhabitants of the United States are much the largest sugar consuming people in the world, and that the consumption of it has largely in- (14) creased since 1840. No sugar was then used in canning; it was in its infancy then if in existence at all. I bought my first stock of goods for a general store in 1858, and I hardly think there were any canned goods in that stock and not much for some years afterwards. The first to come into market, I think, were tomatoes and later other vegetables and corn. Before canning was introduced all the fruit and berries were preserved by drying. No farm with an orchard was likely to be without a "dry house". This was a small building with a wood burning stove placed in the middle with a number of long drawers on each side of it, in which the fruit was placed and there dried. Apples, peaches and plums were dried in this way for use during the next winter. People who did not have dry houses dried fruit in the sun and a still more primitive method was to dry it by the kitchen fire place or chimney corner. At the time I am writing of I think nearly all houses had a good sized open fire place in the kitchen. It must be remembered that at this time cook stoves were not in general use and most of the cooking was done in pots hung in these open fire places. I remember going with my mother to make an afternoon call on a neighbor woman, Mrs. McNeal, living perhaps a mile away from our Three Springs home, and there I saw the other method of fruit drying referred to above. There in a (15) large open fire-place were large strings of luscious looking peaches, cut in halves and strung up on good strong strings or cords. These were hanging on each side in the chimney corner with a subdued fire, perhaps, live coals in the middle, drying the fruit. As stated above not so much sugar was consumed then as now and much of that was home-made. Farmers having sugar maple trees on their farms tapped them in the spring of the year and collected the sugar water, boiled their own sugar and made syrup for table use. On our Three Springs farm, we had what was called a "sugar camp" which was located down the creek some distance from the house. This grove consisted mostly of sugar maple trees. The process of making sugar and syrup was somewhat as follows: In the spring of the year about the time the sap began to rise a three-fourths or one-inch hole was bored into the tree some 18 inches from the ground and a little drain pipe, which I think they called a "spile," was driven into the auger holes. These "spiles" I think were made of elder bushes. They were 10 or 12 inches long and the top half was cut off to within 2 or 3 inches of the one end which was left round and fitted to the holes in the trees. Of course, the pith of the elder stick was taken out, which made the channel to convey the sugar water to the "sugar trough", and you may inquire, What was (16) the sugar trough? These troughs were made from trees about 12 inches in diameter, cut into 25 to 30-inch lengths and split in halves, then trimmed up and a trough cut out of each one. These troughs if taken care of would last for years. I have a dim recollection of how sugar making was worked in our sugar camp. When the sugar troughs were getting pretty well filled up (which I think was generally in the afternoon) my mother and my sisters would go to the camp with their buckets and ladles and dip out the sugar water and carry it to the large iron kettle which had been placed in the central part of the camp. Under this a fire had been kindled some time previously and in that kettle our home- made sugar was manufactured. As to our neighbors at Three Springs, I remember the names of the following: Hampsons, Bollingers, McNeals, Shores, Greens, Millers, Hudsons, Kettermans and some others, but I know best those just named. There were two families of the Hudsons and the McNeals, four. Jacob Ketterman was a hired man and lived in our tenant house. He had moved from York County to Sinking Valley after we had moved there then came with us to Three Springs. He had two sons and two daughters. The oldest son, Samuel, usually worked for us on the farm in summer and went to school in the winter and later (17) taught school, and he came with us to the Cove and worked for us part of the first year. He was the county surveyor of Bedford County for some years and at one time lived in the old frame building yet standing at Rodman, where his wife died. The Miller mentioned above was Rev. Martin G. Miller, a local minister of the United Brethren church. He also, with his family, came from York County to Sinking Valley and later came to Three Springs where he farmed one of our farms and taught school in the winter. I think he was no direct relative of the Bare family, but my Aunt Anna Bare was married to Abraham Miller and this Martin G. was without doubt one of this Miller family, of Newberry Township, York County. He was an excellent man of more than average intelligence. My parents thought a great deal of him and his wife, and although they moved west many years ago, we kept some trace of them and on my first trip to the west I went to their home near Wilton Junction, Iowa, and spent a night with them. His wife, however, had died some time previously. I spent a very interesting evening with him and at that time he gave me considerable information concerning my parents' early religious life and experience that I had not known before. He said that my father, and I think my mother, were converted at a camp meeting held in Sinking (18) Valley by the United Brethren church, which he attended, and I suppose was one of the ministers conducting it. He told me how my father labored at the mourner's bench to experience peace and pardon for his sins, and after this was occupied by the important question as to what church they would join and in this he was undecided. At first he had but two churches in mind, the one the River Brethren church, and the other the Church of God, which had been organized but a few years before his conversion by John Winebrenner, whom I presumed my father knew, at least he was familiar with Mr. Winebrenner's preaching and evangelistic work in and about Harrisburg. However, they finally decided to connect with the River Brethren church with which they continued in fellowship till death. Just what year they connected themselves with this church I am unable to say, but it was while they lived at Three Springs which was between 1837 and 1841. This church connection caused them to decide to leave Three Springs and move to Morrison's Cove. There was no River Brethren church in Huntingdon County and probably no members, but the River Brethren church at that time in Morrisons' Cove was quite prosperous: I think much more so than at present. Most of the members were settlers from Lancaster County, Pa. The names that are still familiar to me are the (19) Snivelys, Baracks, Basslers, Keagys, Longeneckers, Shriners, Sterns, Kaufmans, Bowers, Stoners, Looses and others. There were quite a number of families of the Bowers, Stoners and Keagys. Jacob Snively and Benjamin Barack were the bishops at that time. I should also mention the Hoffmans and the Dicks; there were three Hoffmans that were preachers. There were probably at that time eight or nine ordained ministers. Nearly all these people were farmers and generally thrifty ones. They were very plain people and I think the two things they most emphasized and insisted on were plain dressing and genuine conversion. They were very conscientious people and at that time had no meeting houses in their denomination, for many of their members thought it would be wrong to build them, probably because it would be an innovation and contrary to the practice of their parents and grandparents who had always previous to this, worshipped in their own dwelling houses. I think there is now but one additional incident to relate of my boyhood days at Three Springs. In the year 1839 or 1840, a brutal murder was committed by one Bob McConahy in Hill Valley, about eight miles from Three Springs. I do not remember any of the details of the murder at the time it was committed, but I do remember of six or more horsemen riding up to the front of (20) our house who on the way to their homes had stopped to tell us of the happenings at the hanging of the murderer. At that time the sheriff of the county did the hanging and it was open to any of the public who might want to see it. I don't remember anything these men said, but I have a pretty fair recollection of seeing the half dozen or more horsemen lined up right in front of our yard fence. Bob McConahy was the son-in-law of a Mr. Brown, who owned a little mountain home adjoining my Uncle Benjamin Bare's farm. I hardly think that Mrs. Brown was living at that time but the father and probably five or six children were living, and it is said that Bob conceived the idea of killing the father and all the children and when that was properly accomplished he expected to be the sole heir to the mountain home, but his plans miscarried. He expected to do all this with a rifle and yet not be found out, but either the father or one of the grown-up sons escaped and no trouble was found to connect him with the horrible murder. My cousin Peter M. Bare heard the shooting and I think was the first person to arrive on the scene and see the dead bodies lying around. He was one of the witnesses at the trial that condemned McConahy. Since writing the foregoing account of the incident following the execution of the murderer, Bob McConahy, that so im- (21) pressed a little six-year-old boy, I have found an account in Sherman Day's History of Pennsylvania, of the murder of the Brown family and the execution of the murderer which is given in that book as follows: "On Saturday, the 30th of May, 1840, within two miles of Shirleysburg, Huntingdon County, Penna., a series of murders were committed which for atrocity have scarcely a parallel on record. No less than six human beings were hurried from time to eternity by the hand of a cold-blooded murderer, the victims being a Mrs. Brown and her five children, from the ages of twenty-one to ten years. The old lady was found with her throat cut, the son aged twenty-one and the daughter about sixteen with rifle balls through their bodies, three younger ones with their brains knocked out with stones, in a field hard by the dwelling house, supposed to have fled on witnessing the butchering of their mother, etc. Mr. Brown was away from home and on his return a short time after his family were murdered was fired at twice from the barn, the last ball taking effect ranging along the lower jaw and passing through the ear. He was stunned but did not fall. At the moment of receiving the second fire, he saw a man jump from the barn loft and make for the woods; this man, he believed was his son-in-law, by name McConahy. On this suspicion, or rather strong belief, McCon- (22) ahy was arrested and the testimony taken before examining and committing magistrates went to fix guilt strongly upon him. It appears that Brown, the father-in-law, owns a farm worth three or four thousand dollars. McConahy on the morning of the murder started with his wife for the residence of his mother, some miles distant. He had contrived, however, before starting, to procure the return to their father's residence of the son and daughter, who were absent aiding in his field labors a neighbor not far distant, by coining a plausible story so that every opportunity for the deed might be fully and effectually available. Had he succeeded in destroying the father-in-law his (McConahy's) wife, the only survivor, would have inherited the estate. This was undoubtedly the moving cause to this fiendish deed. In addition it was in evidence he had borrowed his father-in-law's two rifles and they were found in the barn from whence the murderer fled. McConahy was arrested in bed at his mother's residence the same night. He denies, but there is but little doubt of his guilt. The community in the neighborhood of this horrible transaction is greatly excited." The account of the murders is credited to the Philadelphia papers, the following account of the execution to the Sentinel: "Robert McConahy suffered the awful penalty of the law at Huntingdon on the (23) 6th of November, 1840. He was executed in the jail yard a few minutes before 3 o'clock P.M. The closing circumstances of his guilty and miserable career were peculiar down to the hour of his execution. Nay, to the very moment the drop fell, he stubbornly persisted in asserting his innocence. All hope of his making any acknowledgement was entirely removed by his dogged conduct. He was taken upon the scaffold, everything adjusted, the moment arrived, the drop fell and not a word confessed. But the rope broke and instead of hanging, very much to his astonishment, we suppose, he found himself upon the ground under the gallows. He thought he was "clear" but the illusion was present with him but for a moment; he was immediately taken up on the gallows again, everything was made ready, the drop about to fall when he begged for a little time to talk and proceeded to make a full and detailed confession of his crimes to the clergymen present, Mr. Brown and Mr. Peebles, who reduced it to writing in his own words and who will cause it to be published for the benefit of his wife and children. His confession, it is said, cast yet deeper and darker shades of cruelty over the bloody affair. He had scarcely concluded his confession when the last minute that the execution could be delayed, arrived, and he was again swung off and paid his life, a forfeiture of his crimes." (24) The time for moving from Three Springs, Huntingdon County, to Hickory Bottom, Bedford County, had now arrived and I believe it was on the first day of April, 1841, in the morning, with our household goods and farming utensils loaded on several wagons, and with our cattle, hogs and sheep which we drove, we started for the "Cove". We also had a carriage to bring up the rear in which mother, Danny and the two girls traveled. One of our troubles on the first day out was a part of our flock of sheep getting sick from eating laurel which they found along the road while going over a ridge. They got so sick that they couldn't be driven so they had to be loaded up and put on the wagons. I am not quite sure but think they all recovered. The first day we got as far as "Entrikens". This was a wayside inn at the bridge crossing the Raystown branch of the Juniata, and the next day we reached our home in Hickory Bottom. The house we moved into was built of logs and was built in two sections, one of them had two stories and the other a story and a half; there was also a small log barn with a thatched straw roof near the old house These buildings stood close to the ridge and close by was a young orchard of excellent fruit. Seventy feet of the present barn was built a year or two before we moved there. The same year that we came we made the bricks and the follow- (25) ing year, 1842, we built the brick house now standing there. The Three Springs' farm that my father farmed contained probably 250 acres, cleared land, the Hickory Bottom farm about 100 acres. I am not conscious of having done any manual labor at Three Springs but I think pretty soon after we came to Hickory Bottom I was allowed to help the boys pick stone, of which there were plenty at that time and a little later on I drove the cattle to pasture and brought them in. I have no very distinct recollection of how our new home pleased our family, but my impression is that my sisters, at least, felt pretty "blue" at first. At Three Springs and vicinity everybody spoke English but in the vicinity of Hickory Bottom almost everyone talked Pennsylvania Dutch. There was, however, one exception and that was the Haffly family, whose farm adjoined ours on the west, so that it was not long until the Hafflys and the younger element of the Bare family became quite sociable, which was maintained in a neighborly way for the next 17 years, until we moved away. Our near neighbors on the one side were Rhodes and Brumbaughs, and on the other were Bowers, Burkets and Stonerooks, and not very far away were many more Burkets, then a good many Hoovers and some Falkenors, Glasses, Smiths, Millers, Looses, Lydys and Byers. All of these were Penn- (26) sylvania Dutch, but the heads of the families, that is the men, generally could talk English, but the Dutch came much the handiest to them. I think the women generally objected to speaking English unless forced to it. There were, however, some exceptions, the Rhodes girls I think spoke English pretty well. In the schools nothing but English was taught and in that way the children became gradually more English. In our own family when my father and mother were talking to each other it was nearly always in Dutch as that suited my mother the best, but my father said it made no difference to him, that he could speak one as well as the other. As to my sisters and myself, we never got very proficient in the Dutch dialect; didn't talk it if we could well avoid it, but we understood the language. In conversation with my mother I think she usually spoke Dutch while we would answer in English. Not many years before his death, David Burket, Oder Burket's grandfather, told me that he was the first boy that I knew in Morrison's Cove. He said he came with his father, Adam Burket, the next morning after we landed there; his father wanted to bid us a hearty welcome and offer any assistance to us as newcomers that we might need, and it can truthfully be said that these people were very sociable and neighborly. My new found boy friend, David, was 2 or 3 years (27) my senior but he and his brother-in-law, Jacob Nicodemus, were certainly steadfast friends of mine, without a break from the beginning to the end of their lives. After getting the farm work under way we started to make a kiln of brick which was intended for a new dwelling to be built near the then new barn, built by our predecessor, Mr. Gibboney. The clay for the brick was taken from the field across the lane from the barn. The kiln contained about 100,000 bricks of which something more than 40,000 were used in the new house; the balance were sold to the neighbors for bake ovens, chimneys, etc. This was the year 1841 and the new house was built the next summer, into which we moved in the fall of 1842. My sister, Mary Ann, was married to Isaac Bowers perhaps a few months after we had moved. I suppose I was about eight or nine years old when I became the cowboy of the family, whose duty it was to drive the cows to pasture in the morning and bring them home in the evening, and when there was no pasture to help feed them, and a year or two later the feeding of the cows devolved on me. I was probably nine or ten years old when I took charge of my first team of horses and a harrow and tried my hand regularly as a harrow-boy. This, as to my age, I am writing from memory and I may be a little high or a little low, but as to my (28) age when I got to plowing my recollection is pretty distinct. I was 12 years old in October and I made my start in the following spring, probably in April. I recall an incident which occurred on one of the first days I was at it, possible the first day. A Mr. Over or Ober, who lived in the vicinity of New Enterprise, came on foot to see his sister, Mrs. Bowers, our next neighbor, and came through the field where I was plowing. I think I was at the end of the furrow and was turning around and probably I was making prodigious efforts to get my plow pulled around. He stopped long enough to remark that he thought I was too small a boy to handle a plow. I hardly think I stopped to argue the question with him, but I felt quite sure he was mistaken and as an evidence of it, I continued to handle a plow from that time on till I quit farming. That Mr. Ober was probably the grandfather of Mrs. Homer Kegarise. Farms boys generally may not be particularly fond of hard work, but I think the most of them are anxiously waiting for the time when they will be allowed to take a man's job, such as plowing, mowing, cradling and even pitching hay and I know from experience that pitching hay with a long-handled pitchfork is no child's play. In hay making and harvest, when I was a boy, we usually had Charley Smaltz senior's father as one of the hands. He was a genuine German and had (29) only been in America a few years. One of his peculiar accomplishments was his ability to carry the water keg on his head, the rounded part to the head, without holding it. He could do this with a tin bucket, with rounded bottom. He appeared to like to do it, I suppose because no one else in the crowd could perform the same feat. I don't remember of ever seeing any one else that could carry a vessel in that way without holding it. Mr. Smaltz was quite proficient in loading hay on a wagon. One time after a good part of the load was on he was standing near the rear end of the load when the team was started unexpectedly to him, and he fell to the ground with a thud, but he gathered himself up and crawled on again apparently not much the worse for the fall. An incident or an accident occurred to me when I was a pretty small boy that might have been much more serious than it was, although I think I still have the mark of it on my ankle joint. We had several mowers cutting grass and it was my work to carry water to them and at the proper time, a 10 o'clock lunch. On one of these trips I came to the field, unnoticed, and was walking behind the mowers. My parents had raised a boy by the name of John Webb, who was then pretty nearly full grown, a pretty reckless sort of a fellow. I happened to be walking behind him at the time above mentioned when he struck a stone or (30) some other hard object and then without looking back, he threw his scythe and snath back over his shoulder. I was probably four or five steps behind him and it lit on my shoulder and swung around me and the edge struck my ankle over the joint and cut a pretty good gash in it. If the edge had struck in the face or neck the cut might have been a very serious one. The time I am writing about was before the days of mechanical reapers and mowers. Just when the grain cradle came to take the place of the grain sickle I do not know positively, but it was probably not much more than a generation before the reaper came into use. At least my father was quite handy in the use of a sickle and I think in his younger years much of the grain was cut with a sickle, at least we had a number of them on hand when I was a boy and we used them some in cutting badly lodged grain. The first horse driven reaper that I can remember was used on the Rhodes farm adjoining ours. It was a McCormick reaper and was owned by the Rhodes' farmer, Mr. Wolf; this was about the year 1856 or 1857. It merely cut the grain and dropped it on a platform from which it was shoved off by a man with a rake, standing on another platform. I am not sure whether the reaper or the mower came into use first but rather think it was the reaper, at least I saw the reaper at work before I saw (31) a mower. The reaper and mower were like many other new inventions, rather slow in coming into general use and I never owned one. About two years after Mr. Wolf got his reaper I moved to Waterside and farmed there during 1858 and 1859. Then I lived four years at Pattonsville and did not farm, but during 1864 and 1865 I farmed at Roaring Spring, but without owning a reaper, although by that time they were getting into pretty general use. I will now return to the early days of our sojourn at Hickory Bottom. While we lived in the old house at the foot of the ridge we were within half a mile of the Stonerook school house, to which my sisters and I first wended our footsteps on or about December, 1841. Joseph Snowberger, the father of Theodore and Daniel, of Martinsburg, was the teacher; the term was three months and the salary was $16.66 per month. That looks to us at this time like "poor pay", but it must be remembered that the free school system of Pennsylvania was then only seven or eight years old. Our next teacher was a Mr. Alexander. He was something of a philosopher as well as a teacher and taught that it was the condition of the atmosphere that caused people to fight. There were still a good many fisticuffs at that time and he said that if there was a large gathering and there happened to be an east wind that day there were pretty sure to be some fights, (32) but if the wind came from the opposite direction everything would probably be peaceful. After Mr. Alexander came Mr. Shultz, Mr. Ewig and John Smith, and at least one other teacher whose name I do not now recollect. As already stated, my sister, Mary Ann, married Isaac Bowers in the fall of 1842 and he farmed the Hickory Bottom farm I think only two years when his father and my father bought the farm between Martinsburg and Curryville on which they lived until 1866, when they moved to Roaring Spring. After they left the Hickory Bottom farm my father farmed it until the year before I was married, after which I farmed it for two years and then moved to Waterside. My sister Sarah remained at home six years after sister Mary Ann was married. Sarah married Andrew Spanogle in the fall of 1848 when I was 14 years of age. She was an affectionate sister and I missed her very much. Our home from that time on consisted of my parents, myself, and a hired girl, and in the summer time a hired young man. During the most of those years following the marriage of sister Sarah we had but two girls, the first one was Ellen Brown, who was afterwards married to Peter Yingling, father of Calvin Yingling, and the other one was Margaret Miller. She came from Huntingdon County and was the aunt (33) of the Rev. A. R. Miller of the Methodist church, who at one time preached in Altoona, and when I heard of him a few years ago he had taken a superannuated relation to his church. The seventeen years that I had spent on the old Hickory Bottom farm would no doubt appear quite tame to most young people of the present generation. For the first four or five years we had three months' school and nine months' work, after that we had four months' school and I remember of going two terms of two or three months each in the summer, to subscription school. While the winter schools lasted we had good enjoyable times with quite frequent spelling schools and singing schools and later literary and debating societies. When I was a small boy I frequently went with my parents to church on Sunday; they were quite regular in their church attendance and at times had to go considerable distance, as their church (the River Brethren) had no meeting- houses but held the services in the dwellings of their members. They were held in regular order and each member had a list of the appointments. It came to a majority of the members every twelve weeks and to a few only every twenty-four weeks and we were on the latter list. It always meant a pretty good country dinner for all who wanted to stay for dinner; generally I think the majority stayed. It (34) caused a lot of work for the family, but on the other hand it certainly did beget sociability. There was only one meeting-house in which church services were held regularly near enough to our home to attend; that was the German Reformed church at Hickory Bottom, about two and a half miles distant. This is the same denomination that is now known as the Reformed Church, and about 20 years ago the prefix "German" was dropped. This church was then served by Rev. Dewalt Fouse, who lived in Woodcock Valley and preached once every four weeks, I think; this was the largest congregation in our immediate community. Perhaps two or three years after we came to the Cove, the Church of God people began holding pretty regular services in Stonerook's school house; they were then generally called the Winebrennerians. Later on the Mennonites held preaching services in the red school house of Hickory Bottom, but these services I think were only held occasionally. Then the River Brethren held a Love Feast once a year; this meeting was held in the month of June in some member's barn. The Church of the Brethren held their Love Feast once a year in September or October; these were held in their churches, the one at Fredericksburg and the other at New Enterprise. The former was called the Brumbaugh Church and the latter the Snowberger Church. In addition to the (35) three churches just named there were two Lutheran Churches on Potter Creek, the one called Potters' and the other Barley's; also a Lutheran Church at Spang's Mill. In Martinsburg there was a Lutheran, Methodist and a Church of God, and also a Union Church owned and occupied by the Reforms and the Presbyterians. In Woodbury there was a Methodist Church and a Church of God Bethel. There was also probably a Methodist and a Reformed Church in Pattonsville and also a Seventh Day Baptist Church at Longs, several miles west of New Enterprise. I can now only recall four Presbyterian families in the Cove while I was a boy: the McFadden and Graffius families living in Martinsburg, the Barney Stroup family living along the Martinsburg pike in the stone house now owned by Albert Cowen, and our near neighbors, the Hafflys, all of whom worshipped in the Union Church in Martinsburg. I have now told you something about the school and churches of the Cove, but before closing this chapter I will tell you a little about the home life as it was lived along the Bottom during the forties and fifties of last century. From 1842 to 1848 our home consisted of my parents, my sister Sarah and myself and a hired single man who lived in the family about seven months of the year, from April 1st to October 31st, and occasionally a hired girl. John Bowers, an (36) uncle to my brother-in-law Isaac Bowers, lived on an adjoining farm to the east when we came to the Bottom. This family consisted of Mr. Bowers and his wife and one grown son, five grown daughters, and one boy and one girl not yet grown up. But soon they began to die off and I think in probably less than four years the father and older son and four of the grown-up daughters had died, all I think of consumption. The only son left was Andrew, about my age, who was some company for me. The parents of these children belonged to the River Brethren Church. On the adjoining farm on the west lived Paul Rhodes. Mrs. Rhodes was a Nicodemus and a distant relative of Mrs. S. S. Kaufman. They had no sons, but they had two married daughters and three single ones. However, only a few years after we had moved to the Bottom, they took a boy about my age to raise; his name was Henry C. Nicodemus. He had previously been living on a farm adjoining Martinsburg and could speak English, which suited me very well and he was quite as far on in his studies as I was, so we started in the same classes together and remained together until he left the school. Toward the end of my school days we had a teacher by the name of Jacob Ketterman, who taught surveying. Henry C. Nicodemus, David Eshleman and myself constituted a class of three in surveying. We all (37) mastered the science so far as the books were concerned. I never did much practical surveying except to lay out lots after I came to Roaring Spring. Mr. Eshleman did some surveying but he accidentally had part of his hand torn off in a threshing machine, and died of lock-jaw pretty early in life, Mr. Nicodemus practiced surveying the balance of his life and also was for many years a justice of the peace in Martinsburg. Across the public road on the northwest lived the Haffly family; they were English Presbyterians and had come to the Cove from Kishacoquillas Valley some years before we came. In addition to the parents they had two daughters and five sons, the daughters were grown up when we came to the Cove and three of the sons were my seniors. One of these, John, who is three years my senior, is still living at Hopewell, Pa. Two of them, George and Jacob, were younger than I. George was married to my cousin, Sarah Bare, of Hill Valley, Huntingdon County. The families just mentioned were our nearest neighbors and their children were my associates until I grew to manhood. The attractions then as young people now see them were not many, yet it might be an open question whether the young people then were not as happy as the young people of the present day. In the summer time there was much hard work and long hours (38) but people apparently became accustomed to it and usually were interested in their work. Farmers helped each other in harvest and if one farmer finished a day or two before his neighbor, he frequently went over and helped him out. He was always welcome and this gave the boys a chance to make a little pocket money. A month or two later apple "snitzens" and apple butter "bilens" (boilings) began to flourish. The boys, and I think the girls, too, liked to be told to "come over to our "snitzen" tomorrow evening. The "snitzen" proper generally lasted an hour and a half to two hours, then the boys and girls were allowed another hour to play "plompsock" or such other games as might suit their fancies before leaving for their homes. Many of these "snitzens" were held the evening before the day set to boil apple butter. Some times a few persons were invited to come the next evening to help stir the apple butter. Under the old system of boiling it was a pretty long day's job to boil a large kettle of apple butter, however, many more apples were prepared for drying than for use in apple butter, as this was before canning fruit had come into use. Nearly every farmer had a dry house not only to dry apples, but all kinds of fruit and berries, and also after the apple butter boilings came corn husking. When the corn was husked and put in the crib and the fodder hauled into the barn (39) and the winter wood hauled to the wood yard, this about closed up the outdoor work for the season. But there was still butchering to be done, and the threshing of the grain was done along through the winter as we needed the straw. At that time nearly every farmer owned his own threshing machine driven by from four to six horses, requiring from eight to ten hands; about one hundred and twenty-five bushels of wheat was a good day's threshing. The thresher did not clear the grain, this required another day's work to run it through the wind mill. The schools generally began about the first of December, and from that time on for the next four months, we had pretty interesting times including frequent spelling schools, a literary society that met weekly at our Hickory Bottom school house, the program consisting of declamations, compositions and debates and in the latter years that I attended it closed up the term with a good live exhibition. The game of ball usually played was called "Town Ball," which I think was somewhat similar to the present popular game of baseball I think it was about the year 1842 or '43 that the school term was changed from three to four months and the teachers' salaries advanced from $16.66 to $20.00, and about 1850 to $25.00. In the first years of my school going I think there was no regular system (40) of text-books. If there was it was not well lived up to. In the spelling classes, I think, nearly all used "Cobb's" spellers, but in reading there was quite a variety of books and they required a number of classes in the same grade and sometimes but one in a class, that pupil having a different book from all others. The classes came up to the teacher's platform to recite their lessons and the teacher would look over the shoulder of one of the scholars to assist or to correct faulty reading. However, improved methods gradually came into use. For advanced pupils, Goodrich's (Peter Parleys) History came into pretty general use and McGuffie's Spellers and Readers in four different grades of readers were adopted, and I think were still in use when I quit the school room. I think the spelling, reading and writing were quite good in my school going days. These branches to my mind have not been improved on during the past sixty years and the writing has wonderfully degenerated. In the old-time schools the teacher wrote the copies for the scholars which in a large school was no small job. A teacher then who couldn't write a fairly plain hand generally had to take a back seat. The following are a few of the copies that found their way into most of the copy or writing books of that time: "Command you may your mind from play." (41) "Evil communications corrupt good manners." "Time and tide wait for no man." "Man is the architect of his own fortune." The closing exercises of each forenoon's and afternoon's work were the spelling classes of which there were usually two, a "big" and a "little" class. There were two systems of demotion. The one was, if a scholar misspelled a word, he or she was required to go to the foot of the class. The other method was to merely let the one who spelled the word go above the one who misspelled and this latter method was usually practiced. A good speller who had stood at the head of the class for some days or as long as a week, which sometimes was the case, felt much mortified when he was "trapped". In order to get the date of certain events I have gone to some trouble to get the names of the different school teachers to whom I went and for the sake of preserving the record, I will enter their names on this page: Samuel Ketterman, Three Springs, 1840-41; Joseph Snowberger, Stonerooks, 1841- 42; Mr. Alexander, Stonerooks, 1842-43; George Shultz, Stonerooks, 1843-44; John Smith, Stonerooks, 1845-46; Thomas Ewig, Stonerooks, 1846-47; Fulton County man (name unknown), Stonerooks, 1847-48; Andrew (42) Spanogle, "Leather Cracker" Over the Ridge, 1848-49; David Spickler, Hickory Bottom, 1849-50; Jacob Ketterman, Hickory Bottom 1850-51; Jacob Ketterman, Hickory Bottom, 1851-52; Henry Wishart, Hickory Bottom, 1852-53. I also went one month to Mr. Joel Foote, who taught in a school house located on what is now Charley Longenecker's farm in South Woodbury Township. For the next three winters I taught at the Hickory Bottom school house, beginning in 1852 and in the winter of '56 and '57 I taught at Stonerook's school house. This ended my school teaching and school going. About the year 1853 or '54 the legislature passed an act creating the office of county superintendent of public schools. Before that time some teacher, generally the town school teacher, was appointed to examine the teachers of a township. My first certificates were signed by J. G. Herbst, who taught the Woodbury school, and afterward married William Snyder's sister and for many years was a citizen of Altoona. My first and only examination by a county superintendent was by Thomas Gettys, of Bedford, and was probably in the year 1855. On Jan. 13th, 1857, I was married to Sarah Eby, a daughter of George and Susan Eby, of Aughwick Mills, Pa. We settled down to farm life on the old Hickory Bottom farm. My mother died December 29th, (43) 1856. The farm life was probably not congenial to either my wife or myself, and for my part, my ambition was for a business life. My father although a farmer and with but little education, had a strong inclination for business, and about 1851 or '52 he made a deal for the Waterside Grist Mill property and from that time on until 1858 he devoted his time mostly to buying grain and selling the flour. For that reason it was very agreeable to us and to him to move from the old farm to Waterside and to take charge of the milling business, which occurred in the spring of 1858. I had intended before this to write further of the customs of living on the Bottom while we were living there but not having done so, will insert it here. Generally speaking, I think, farmers are good livers and their wives and daughters good cooks. They then used, however, much less fresh meat and more salt meat. Our immediate family was small, but in the summer season we had at times considerable hired help. Early in the fall of the year we usually killed one fat hog, not very large, for use as the weather began to get cool. Then in November, we killed probably two more and the balance of them just before Christmas, probably eight or nine in all. At one of these later butcherings we killed a beef. To take care of this meat we had one large hogshead and two smaller ones. The large one and one (44) of the smaller ones we used to salt our pork and the other one was used for salting down the beef. The beef, I think, was generally used during the winter and early spring. Among this beef, were several nice chunks intended for dried beef. This went to the smoke house, and was well smoked and was the "chipped beef" for summer use and I think was about as good as Armour's or Swift's. The balance of the beef I think was not smoked and I suppose was somewhat similar to the present corned beef. After the pork had been salted and remained in salt brine for some time, it was taken to the smoke house and smoked and was the main meat staple during the following summer. As high an authority as Orange Judd, then editor of the American Agriculturist, said "If there was any better breakfast for a working man than ham and eggs" he did not know of it. Still we were not without fresh meat all the time; farmers would kill calves and sometimes a sheep and occasionally an ox, and sell it out to their neighbors. At this point I might as well relate a little experience of mine along this line. One day in the summer we were about to kill a beef and I was sent to Stonerooks to tell them when we were going to butcher and that they could get some meat if they would come for it. I went on my errand and told them when to come for their meat and when I came home and reported, un- (45) fortunately, I had told them the wrong day and then I was sent right back to correct myself and tell them the right time, but on my second report it was discovered that I was wrong again. So after my father had given me a good talking to, he mounted a horse and rode over the hill and Stonerooks at last got correct information in regard to this butchering. I do not know how old I was at that time, but it may have been on account of my tender years. I have written pretty copiously about what Hickory Bottom farmers are 75 years ago, and I think it will be in order to give a short closing chapter on what they wore. I don't think there were any farmers in our neighborhood who didn't have a flock of sheep, and usually a flax patch every summer. These were important elements in the clothing of the family. Sheep are sheared once a year, usually in the first half of the month of May: although this only came once a year it made quite a day's work when the flock was large, between the clipping and the washing of the wool. A few temporary tables were provided and the sheep, of course, were in a pen or closed yard. Some one was required to catch the sheep and tie their legs together and put them on the tables. The shearers consisted of both men and women, the women most likely in the majority. The same kind of sheep shears were used as we now use in (46) trimming the grass along our walks. When the fleeces were clipped they were put into wash tubs and washed, which was no small job. I am reminded, however, that they have a different system of washing wool in Germany from the one I have just described. In my diary kept while I was traveling in Europe in 1900 I made the following record, which I will transcribe: "Passing down the river we saw in the afternoon a large drove of sheep on the bank of the river, being kept together by several dogs that kept passing back and forth around them. When a sheep got a little out of the ranks the dogs soon brought it back. Several persons with a sheep in hand were in the river washing the wool on the sheep's back." This washing was being done on June 6th, in the river Rhine: it will be noticed that this date is somewhat later than the time of sheep shearing in America. Whether this method of washing is general in Germany I am not able to say, but I have never seen it practiced in this country. After the wool was washed it was dried and bundled up with an old table cloth or sheet around it, and then sent to the Fulling Mill to be carded. The wool was run through the carding machine and came back to the farmer in rolls about one-half inch in diameter and about 25 or 30 inches in length. It was now ready for the spinning wheel to be spun into yarn. The spinning wheels (47) generally in use got their motion from a treadle operated by the feet of the spinner. A carding machine is described by Webster as "a machine for combing, breaking and cleansing wool or cotton and consists of cylinders thick-set with teeth and moving with force". Webster also gives the following description of a "Fulling Mill," "a mill for fulling cloth by means of pestlers or stampers which beat and press it to a close compact state and cleanse it". The carding and fulling were both done at the same mill. The fulling and carding mills have been succeeded by the present woolen factories. Whether these old fulling mills had any looms in them for weaving cloth I am unable to say, probably they had the old fashioned hand loom. But of the time I am writing I think the most of the weaving was done nearer the homes of the farmers. Some farmers had looms of their own operated by one of the women of the house, but in every neighborhood there was a weaver who followed it as an occupation. Much of the wool was woven into cloth for clothing for the family. After the wool was spun into yarn used for making clothing it had to be dyed the color or colors desired, the farmer's women often doing their own dyeing. After the goods had been woven it was sent to the fulling mill to be fulled and finished ready for use. The blankets needed for the family were woven from the family wool. These, (48) as now, were generally left the natural color of the wool. Hand looms at that time were not wide enough to weave a full width blanket, and they were woven half the width and sewed together. I have one of this kind on my bed at this time with a seam in the middle and it was manufactured way back in the 40's of last century. I suppose with a view of having this blanket descend to me for whom it was made, my good sister Sarah sewed my name on it in large letters which are about as legible today as they were 70 years ago, and I got the blanket all right according to her desire. The largest part of the clothing worn by the family was home-made, especially the winter clothing. At my home, while I was a small boy, my mother and sisters made all my clothes. They consisted of what was then called a "wommus," perhaps later called a "roundabout," and a little vest and trousers, but not the short knee breeches of the present. The trousers were made long enough to come down well over the shoe tops. When knee-breeches came into use I do not know but I think I was more than thirty years of age before I saw any of them worn. However, from pictures of officers and prominent men of the Revolutionary War, and later, they appear to have been generally worn by men, and from a series of articles by Henry Watterson, now running through the "Saturday Evening (49) Post," they continued to be worn until about 1840. He speaks of a rather dudish liveryman of Washington at that time that still wore them. I probably discarded the "wommus" for Sunday clothes when I was twelve or thirteen years of age. From this on I wore a little frock coat and I guess it was tailor-made, but for at least several years made from our own home-made cloth. At that time I think men generally wore what is probably called a "swallow-tailed" coat, and when boys got to be sixteen or seventeen years old they generally wanted that kind. But a young man that wanted to be looked up to generally wanted a broad cloth suit as early in the game as it could be bought, and with it a high fur or silk hat, preferably a silk one, but this outfit was only strictly for Sunday. The winter hats for every day were made by Samuel Hair, of Woodbury, or William Snyder, of Martinsburg. The every day summer hats were called "chip" hats, and sold at 12 1/2 cents each, or a home-made straw hat, made in the neighborhood cost about 25 cents. When I was a boy I went to Sam Hair's and got my head measured, and he did the rest. The underclothes then were usually of canton flannel and made at home. Boys, I think, generally got through the winter season without underclothes. One fashion that was so much in use in my young days appears to have gone out altogether, that of (50) wearing woolen "comforts" for the neck. This was a wrap for the neck worn in the winter by about every man and boy, and was knit or woven out of woolen yarn in bright colors. In size they started for boys at about four inches wide and thirty inches long, and from that on up for men to about ten inches wide and seven or eight feet long. It was then supposed to be a necessary part of a man's or boy's outfit and especially so when he went out sleighing or sledding. In this connection it will be remembered that it was not till about the beginning of the Twentieth century that it was discovered that the arms and the neck and a good sized border of the body surrounding the neck did not need any covering to protect them from the cold. This discovery was probably made by a woman, at least many of the women have adopted this style of dressing. Some time soon after the Civil War the fashion of men wearing shawls instead of overcoats came into use. A good heavy woolen shawl fastened at the chin with a safety pin made a fair outfit for a man on a winter day if he traveled on foot (that was much more largely the method of getting about then, than now) but it never came into universal use as the lower part of the body got no protection from it, so that the overcoat was never put entirely out of use. In the preceding pages I have explained the use to which wool was put so far as the com- (51) forts of the house and the male members of the family were concerned; I will also explain what benefit was received by the women and girls of the family The yarn for flannels was generally colored in two or three different colors and then sent to the weaver and he was told what kind of barred flannel was wanted and the weaver wove it accordingly. This also had to be sent to the fulling mill to be fulled; this was then made into garments for the winter wear of the girls and women of the family. So much for the sheep and the wool and now a little information in regard to the flax patch and the flax, and this chapter will be ended. Our flax patch was always in the oats field because it ripened about the same time as oats and the field was then plowed and sowed in wheat. Flax grew to about two feet in height, sometimes more. It was not cut but pulled up by the roots, and this job was generally assigned to the boys and the women. I think it was spread out to dry for a day or two, then bound up in little sheaves and shocked much as we shock wheat, left to dry out well and then taken to the barn and the seed threshed out. This threshing was quite simple; it required a boy or man and empty barrel laid on its side. The man or boy took up these little sheaves and pounded the top ends of them over the barrel until the seeds were supposed to be all pounded out. The seed (52) was then cleaned and when convenient sent to the oil mill. One of these, "Hipple's Mill," just on this side of Waterside, made linseed oil for many years. Flax seed was worth about $1.25 to $1.50 per bushel. The flax could remain in the barn till later in the fall when work was not pressing. The farmer usually had a rough fire place constructed in some out of the way corner, and several poles or lath were laid over it about five feet above the ground on which the flax was placed and spread out to dry before "breaking" it. A "flax break" was constructed of hard wood and consisted of a frame with four legs into which was framed about five strong wooden blades about four feet long. Then another frame with similar blades was constructed; this frame was fastened at the one end and worked hinge fashion. The "flax break man" lifted the top and inserted his flax, having a tight grip on the flax with one hand and with the other pounding up and down till the shell or straw had left the fibre. After the breaking process was completed then the "scutching" of the flax began which was work for the women and boys. This was done with a hard wood paddle with a hand hold at one end. A bunch of flax was drawn over a frame constructed for that purpose and the scutcher "scutched" away until the "shives" were all "scutched" out, so that there was nothing left but the flax fibre. (53) This was then ready to go to the spinner. We had two or three spinning wheels and my mother and two sisters were good spinners. When the flax was spun it was sent to the weaver and woven either for sheets or pillow cases or into shirting, and sometimes for wagon covers. For shirts and bedding, the cloth after it was returned from the weaver was bleached white. This process was accomplished by spreading it out on the lawn and sprinkling it several times a day with water from a watering can. For good bed sheets nothing better than home made linen has ever been discovered. From the information given on these few last pages it would appear that the flax patch and she sheep flock were two very valuable assets to the farmer in the good old day of hand-made goods and home-made clothing. A barber not long ago asked me if I had always worn a beard and I told him I had the greater part of my life time. After a little reflection I just realized how few persons in this year 1920 can be seen on a barber's chair wearing a full beard; this was not the case in my early life and might be a fact worth discussing in my reminiscences. My parents belonged to the River Brethren Church and during the lifetime of my parents I think all the grown-up members of that church wore full-grown beards, but beards only and no mustaches, and I think the same custom prevailed in the Church of (54) the Brethren. But the wearing of a full beard was by no means confined to these two religious denominations; during the forties, fifties, sixties, and seventies of last century a majority of men in other religious denominations and of no religious affiliations whatever wore full beards and they wore them because that was the fashion at that time. When I was young I had considerable throat trouble and I was advised that if I wore a full beard that the protection that it would give my throat would probably eventually cure it. I am pleased to say that my throat has been well for many years, but whether the beard helped to cure it, I do not know, but I suspect the principal reason I had for wearing a beard was because at that time it was fashionable and it is only natural for young people to want to be in fashion. So much can be said for the wearing of beards. Now what can be said for the once fashionable mustache. Some thirty and more years ago Robert Burdette, a noted platform lecturer of that time, had a popular lecture called "The Rise and Fall of the Mustache," for the mustache certainly has been a popular adornment for a half century past but is now somewhat on the decline. As I remember it now I never saw a man wearing a mustache until I was more than twenty-one years of age. The wearing of a mustache is no doubt a modern fashion, (55) but I have found at least one exception, that of Rev. Roger Williams, born in 1599. Winebrenner's history of religious denominations published in 1852, gives his portrait as wearing a mustache in his day. However, out of 29 portraits published in that book his was the only one shown with a mustache. However, Menno Simon, born in 1495, and John Calvin in 1509, both wore full beards with mustaches. The other 26 were entirely plain shaven; this list included Martin Luther and Ulrich Zwingli. The above 29 persons, I think, were all clergymen. A later publication of portraits is found in Africa's history of Huntingdon and Blair Counties, which may be divided as follows: no beards, 22; plain beards, 28; mustaches only, 11; beards and mustaches, 31; total 92. This book was published in the year 1883 and it will be observed that nearly two-thirds of this list wore either plain beards or beards with mustaches, and only about one- eighth of the whole number of that time wore only mustaches, and all these portraits were of business men, farmers and lawyers. From this the reader will see that forty years ago I was quite in fashion. (56) Page Blank (57) PART II. FROM BOYHOOD TO MIDDLE LIFE, WITH PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF MEN AND EVENTS IN MORRISON'S COVE. (58) PART II. When I was between sixteen and seventeen years of age my father was kicked by a horse, and had his leg broken. This disabled him for the season and was the cause of promoting me to be the farm-boss, which appealed to me quite well for the time being. Previous to this, however, I had been imbued with the idea of a business life. About two or three years later, Mr. John McFadden, a Martinsburg merchant, came to the school house where I was teaching and wanted to hire me to clerk in the McFadden store. He offered me ten dollars a month and boarding which looked pretty good to me and I was quite willing, but I had to submit my case to my parents. I think they were both opposed to me going, particularly my mother. However, by hard coaxing I won out and in March, 1854, I left home to become a store clerk. The McFadden store was owned by three brothers and was located on the corner in Martinsburg now occupied by Eichelberger and Earlenbaugh. My sleeping apartment was over the store and they kept a big dog down stairs in the store. I boarded in the family of John McFadden. This family consisted of John McFadden, his sister Margaret, and (59) young Margaret and James, a brother's children, both of these somewhat younger than myself. They were a pleasant family and the Margarets were generally known by their neighbors as "Old Mag" and "Young Mag". All of this family have been dead for quite awhile except James McFadden, who still lives in Hollidaysburg. Margaret, senior, as I will call her, was an excellent quizzer; what she didn't get me to tell her about people and things out along the Bottom was hardly worth telling, and to verify the truthfulness of what I told her, she would make further inquiry of other people. One of these cases might be worth repeating. The Presbyterians in the Cove at that time were very few in number; the McFaddens and Hafflys were of that faith and on one occasion, probably when Mrs. Haffly had come to town to church, Margaret, senior, said: "Mrs. Haffley, has Dan Bare got such a good mother, he talks so much about her?" When this information came around to me, as it was sure to do, I confess I was just a little ashamed of myself. But in later years I have come to the conclusion that a considerable amount of talk by a boy about a good mother is nothing of which to be ashamed. Who fed me from her gentle breast, And hushed me in her arms to rest, And on my cheeks sweet kisses prest? My mother. (60) When sleep forsook my open eye, Who was it sung sweet lullaby, And rocked me that I should not cry? My mother. Who sat and watched my infant head When sleeping in my cradle bed, And tears of sweet affection shed? My mother. When pain and sickness made me cry, Who gazed upon my heavy eye And wept, for fear that I should die? My mother. Who ran to help me when I fell And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the part to make it well? My mother. Who taught my infant lips to pray, To love God's holy word and day And walk in wisdom's pleasant way? My mother. And can I never cease to be Affectionate and kind to thee, Who wast so very kind to me? My mother. Oh no, the thought I cannot bear; And if God please my life to spare I hope I shall reward thy care My mother. (61) When thou art feeble, old and gray, My healthy arm shall be thy stay, And I will soothe thy pains away, My mother. And when I see thee hang thy head, "Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, And tears of sweet affection shed, - My mother. I learned these rhymes from a Juvenile reader in my very tender years and they still sound good to me. I think it was about seven months from the time I came till I left the store, but during that time I spent a month at home helping to make hay and harvest. I think by the time harvest was past I had made up my mind to come back to the farm although I concluded to stay at the store the balance of the summer, but I engaged to teach the Hickory Bottom school during the coming winter term. Perhaps if my parents had known conditions at the McFadden store I would never have obtained consent to go there. At that time there were some of the stores that retailed liquor and this was one of them, and within a week or two after I came, I helped to unload and put six barrels of whiskey into the cellar. This whiskey was sold out by the quart, jug or keg, largely to farmers for harvest liquor. At that time there were still a goodly num- (62) ber of farmers who took a jug of whiskey to the field to be drunk by their harvest hands, but farmers have learned much good sense since that time. The McFaddens were the last of the stores to sell liquor and they quit that same fall. There was no U. S. license tax on liquor before the Civil War and the state or county license tax was quite light for I think whiskey retailed at about fifty cents a gallon. There were three stores in Martinsburg while I was there, but none of them did a large business; I think McFaddens sold less than ten thousand dollars worth of goods that year. I spent a fairly pleasant summer in Martinsburg. The family with whom I was most intimate was the Graffius family. The girls always treated me well and it gave me a chance to learn something of the ways of the town people of which previously I knew but little. Mr. Graffius appeared to take a fatherly interest in me and his paring words to me when I came to bid them all good-bye in leaving the town were something like this, "Well, Daniel, you have discovered that it is not all gold that glitters." He was a tinner by trade and quite a reader and a ready talker, and some people said of him, that it didn't make much difference what subject you began to discuss with him, it would end up on the slavery question. But it must be remembered that the slavery question was a greatly discussed question at that time for (63) it was soon after the repeal of what was called the Nebraska Bill. This act had prevented slavery from extending north beyond a certain latitude and its repeal opened up Kansas and I think Nebraska to slavery. It was also soon after the "Dred Scott Decision" of the U. S. Supreme Court which decided that "a colored man had no rights that a white man was bound to respect," so that it was a pretty dry crowd if they got together and didn't discuss politics. Before closing this chapter about my Martinsburg experience I will relate one incident in which Mr. Graffius took a prominent part. The summer I lived in Martinsburg there was a Professor Coblentz from Maryland who taught a select school. He was rather a pompous chap, a Democrat just fresh from a slave state and a colored man appeared to him to be such an insignificant object that I think he rather disdained to discuss him at all. During those discussions I had heard men say that they didn't think a negro had a soul and there were many people who argued that they were so far below the intelligence of a white man that it would be entirely useless to free them and try to educate them, for they never would amount to anything, and, therefore, it would be much better even for them to leave them remain in slavery. Prof. Coblentz held views quite similar to these and one day he and Mr. Graffius met in front of (64) Everhart's store and the debate soon opened on the measure of brains and intelligence in the average negro. The professor warmed up and made quite a speech in favor of his side of the subject when Mr. Graffius said he would show him by concrete evidence that his argument was entirely false, "for," he said, "you can take Jacob Graffius and Prof. Coblentz and a half dozen other men as good as they and combine them into one man and then you haven't got a Frederic Douglas in ability." Douglas was a runaway slave and after he got north, got some education and was then delivering many lectures on the slavery questions through the northern states. I think Mr. Graffius had the closing speech on this occasion. I left Martinsburg in October and went back to my Hickory Bottom home and soon after that went with my mother to York County to see her relatives. This was her last trip to see these friends, as she died a little more than two years after this. In going to the old Mathias home we went from Harrisburg to York Haven on the train, then we had from two to three miles to walk over a ridge which was pretty well settled. A pathetic scene occurred just before we got to the top where we stopped at a little wayside hut to get a drink of water, which was given to us by an old woman, to all appearances quite poor. My mother and she began a conversation which ended quite (65) soon in their embracing each other in tears when it turned out that they had been children together, but soon they parted never to meet on this side of the great beyond. This was the last trip my mother made to the Mathias home and the last trip I made there till in company with my daughters, Clara and Ella, we hunted up the old place in the autumn of 1916, but found the property occupied by Mr. Adam Kroh and family. After my return to the old farm, I farmed it in 1855-56 and taught school during the winter terms, and on the 29th day of December, 1856, my good mother passed from time into eternity. A time of expected gladness was suddenly changed to one of great sorrow. I was to have been married on one of the last days of December but my mother was taken sick and grew rapidly worse so that I was obliged to send a messenger to the Eby family advising them of our trouble. Geo. Haffley, who afterward married my cousin, Sarah Bare, was the messenger. This was before the days of telephones and there were but meager telegraph facilities. It was a trip of about 40 miles each way to Aughwick Mills and was made on horseback, which was the usual mode of travel at that time. On the 13th day of January, 1857, Sarah Eby and I were marred, which was the same day that Simon Cameron was elected United States Senator. We commenced housekeeping in (66) the brick house on the old farm and remained there one year, which completed about seventeen years of my life spent at Hickory Bottom. About the first of March, 1858, we moved to Waterside. The chance to begin a business life had at last come and I was correspondingly happy. My father had obtained the Waterside property as part payment for the Three Springs property. This property consisted of about one hundred acres of land and a three-burr grist mill, a plaster mill and a clover seed milling mill combined, also four dwelling houses. In one of these houses by the side of the road, Clara, our first child, was born. The village proper contained eight or nine houses; there was a school house on the hill south of the village, but no church. The present woolen factory, still standing, then ran all the year and was the principal industry of the village. I think we had intended to make Waterside our permanent home for we arranged to build a good, comfortable brick dwelling the next spring, which we completed and moved into in August, 1859. However, in less than six months from that time my father closed a deal with Major James Patton for the Pattonsville, (now Loysburg) property, with the understanding that we should move there the next spring. As I recall it now, the two years that I spent at Waterside I was a sort of general utility man. I kept the mill (67) books, settled for much of the grain as it came into the mill, helped in the mill and on the farm, and played justice of the peace, when there was any crooked business that needed straightening out. In addition to this, in the fall of 1859 we bought out David Beegle's store that was housed in the large brick house below the factory, now the dwelling of Mrs. A. B. Woodcock. Mr. John B. Miller was our storekeeper. We conducted the store here till the following April when we moved it with the balance of our belongings to Pattonsville, (now Loysburg). We had been farming up to this time, but before moving to Pattonsville, we had public sale of our farming utensils, cattle and horses and on or about April 1st, 1860, we became citizens of Pattonsville. The Pattonsville property consisted of about two hundred and fifty acres of land, a large grist mill, a store building, a large barn and three dwelling houses. As a business point, both for store and milling it was much better than Waterside. The property cost around eighteen thousand dollars, perhaps something less. The Pattons had lived in the big brick house and we moved into that and lived there the first year and John B. Miller moved into the frame building opposite the store building. We didn't like the brick house and as Mr. Miller had secured a position as salesman with the wholesale shoe house of West, (68) Southworth & Co., Philadelphia, they moved out of the frame building and we moved into it, where we remained the balance of the time that we lived in Pattonsville. Neither the mill nor the store had been doing much business for several years previously and there was a very good opportunity to increase the business to a considerable extent, which we succeeded in doing and the community appeared to appreciate our efforts very much. From this time on I had no need of being a "general utility man," as we were doing a good store business and both this mill and Waterside mill had plenty to do, running night and day, part of the time. I was in the store nearly all the time and there attended to the buying and settling for the grain. Up to the time we moved to Pattonsville, my father attended mostly to the selling of the flour and feed, but from this on, that part of the business came gradually under my care. My father was in his seventy-third year when we moved to Pattonsville. At the end of the first year, when Mr. Miller left our employ I became the head storekeeper. And for assistants I had Charley Long, who afterward became Dr. Long; Cyrus Madden, Joe Bayers and Lewis Spiece, who afterward became Captain Lewis Spiece. For three of the years that we lived at Pattonsville the Civil War was being fought and prices for many articles be- (69) came greatly inflated. Cotton goods were especially affected, wheat also went higher but reached the highest price after I came to Roaring Spring; during the last year of the war I think it ranged from $2.50 to $2.75 and for a short time was $3.00, but people were allowed to eat white bread during all the war. Cyrus Madden, with quite a number of other men of Pattonsville and vicinity, enlisted in Major Alexander Bobb's company. Mr. Bobb went out as captain of this company, but for meritorious services was promoted to the rank of major while in the service. Lewis Spiece had enlisted in the nine month's service some time previous to this, and Joe Bayer enlisted later in Capt. Eichelberger's company. After having settled down at Waterside, as some of us may have supposed in a permanent home, it was somewhat of a surprise to learn one day that my father had bought the Pattonsville property and that we were to move to Pattonsville the coming spring. Pattonsville looked to us considerably larger than Waterside and I think there was but little objection made to the change. I am sure I was quite ready to make it. However, in less than four years from this time another move was planned that was not so satisfactory to all concerned. I do not remember whether my father had talked to me or ever mentioned it in the family that he intended buying the Spang's Mill prop- (70) erty (now Roaring Spring) but I think there was not much known of his intention until it was an accomplished fact. The arrangement then suggested, was that I with my family was to move to Spang's Mill and Andrew Spanogles' were to move from the farm near Basslers' Station to Pattonsville. That change appealed to me as being all right for our handicap at Pattonsville was the great distance from our principal market, at Hollidaysburg. This move would bring us thirteen miles nearer to it and as for milling business the competition appeared less than at Pattonsville, as at that time there were seven mills doing business in the southern end of the Cove and the most of them were pretty active competitors. But what appeared to me and to my father to be a very good move did not appear so to my wife. We had now lived more than three years in Pattonsville and we had become well acquainted with the people and they were certainly good sociable neighbors. On the other hand at Spang's Mill there was only a small story and a half log house to move into and not more than two or three other houses in sight, so that from any woman's viewpoint the move did not look like a good one. However, good wife as she was, she submitted to our wishes and on or about the 5th day of January, 1864, we moved from Pattonsville to Spang's Mill, but in the (71) meantime we had succeeded in building the brick house now owned by Bert Dughi, into which we moved and in due course of time we all felt satisfied with our Spang's Mill home. I think for quite a number of years my father had a desire to own this property, for it appeared to be a fine location for business and but little business had been done here for some years previously. From the large purchases of real estate made by my father so late in life it was evident that he was planning for his children and not for himself. He was seventy-two years old when he bought the Pattonsville property and four years older when he bought the Spang's Mill property and his purchases showed clearly that he was planning for business lives for his children. The firm name, D. M. Bare & Company, I think began at Waterside and it was continued at Pattsonsville and the Spang's Mill property was bought by the firm of D. M. Bare & Company, composed of Daniel Bare, Sr., and D. M. Bare; my half of this Spang's Mill property was the first real estate that I had ever owned. Previous to this my interest had only been in the business of the mills and store. This property consisted of ninety acres of land, two small log houses, a frame store building, an old grist mill and a saw mill. The grist mill had been built at two different times, part of it was built of logs and part was frame. This property had (72) been part of the Geo. B. Spang property owned by his son, Job M. Spang, who became financially embarrassed. It was sold by Sam'l. McCalment, High Sheriff of Blair County, on the 20th day of March, 1863, to Job Mann for seventeen thousand dollars and the sheriff's deed to Job Mann is given under date of April 24th, 1863. Job Mann sold this same property as described in the deed to Daniel M. Bare and Company and the consideration in this deed was seventeen thousand five hundred and fifty-six dollars and eighty-seven cents. This deed was dated Sept. 1st, 1863, and carried twenty dollars worth of internal revenue stamps. The deed was entered on record October 27th, 1863, Hugh Caldwell, recorder. In the original warrant of which this tract was a part, it is called the "Mill Seat Tract," and was granted to Edward Sanders under date of December 22nd, 1766, and was sold by Edward Sanders March 16th, 1780, to Daniel Ullery and the warrant says that Daniel Ullery by will dated Jan'y. 2nd, 1781, devised the same to his son, John Ullery, and John Ullery entered his acceptance of the land under date of July 24th, 1795. This warrant was issued by Thomas Mifflin, governor, and attested by James Trimble, deputy secretary. This land according to the warrant, as issued to Edward Sanders, was situated in Bedford Township, Bedford County. It appeared to be in possession (73) of the Ullery family from 1780 to 1821. Under date of March 22nd, 1821, John Ullery conveyed this land with a larger adjoining tract amounting to three hundred and eighty-eight acres, to George B. Spang and the location is given as Woodbury Township, Bedford County. This purchase took in the "Mill Seat Tract," the Spang mansion farm, the Eli Lower and the Samuel Garver heir's properties. After taking possession of the property I had Henry C. Nicodemus make a survey of it which was made March 3rd, 1864. According to this survey it contained eighty-nine acres and twenty-three perches of which Isaac Bowers subsequently bought forty-two acres and the paper mill company nine acres, the balance of it being taken up by the grist mill and stream and by some building lots reserved. The line fence between the Job Mann property and the Spang farm began at the mill race where it is now crossed by Girard street and continued the same bearing as the street now has for one hundred and four rods to a post, thence by a little change in the bearing forty-four rods more to the land of Eli Lower. The land lying between this line and the Duncan lands comprise this purchase. I hold the original patent for the "Mill Seat Tract," which was written on parchment, a copy of which is herein inserted: (74) THE COMMONWEALTH OF PENNSYLVANIA. TO ALL TO WHOM THESE PRESENTS SHALL COME, GREETING. KNOW YE, That in consideration of the sum of thirty pounds, twelve shillings and six pence lawful money now paid by John Ulrey into the Receiver-General's Office of this Commonwealth. . . . .there is granted by the said Commonwealth unto the said JOHN ULREY a certain tract of land called "THE MILL SEAT". . .situated in BEDFORD TOWNSHIP, BEDFORD COUNTY, BEGINNING AT a white oak thence by one Lindsay's land north fourteen degrees east one hundred and nine perches to a sugar tree, thence by barren land north thirty degrees west sixty perches to a sugar tree north forty degrees east ninety-four perches to a white oak south seventy degrees east sixty-six perches to a post by a hickory south fifteen degrees east two hundred and fourteen perches to a large white oak and west one hundred and seventy-four perches to the beginning containing one hundred and sixty-nine acres and an allowance of 6% for roads, etc., which said tract was surveyed in pursuance of an application No. 2218 dated 22nd of December, 1766, granted to Edward Sanders who by deed dated 16th March, 1780, con- (75) veyed the same to Daniel Ulrey who by will dated 2nd Jan'y, 1781, devised the same to his son the said John Ulrey for whom a warrant of acceptance issued 24th July, 1795. TO HAVE AND TO HOLD the said tract or parcel of land, with the appurtenances, unto the said JOHN ULREY. . .and his heirs to the use of him the said JOHN ULREY his. . .heirs and assigns, forever. . .free and clear of all restrictions and reservations as to mines, royalties, quit-rents or otherwise excepting and reserving only the fifth part of all gold and silver ore for the use of this commonwealth to be delivered at the pitt's mouth clear of all charges. IN WITNESS whereof THOMAS MIFFLIN, governor of the said commonwealth hath hereto set his hand and caused the State Seal to be hereunto affixed the twenty- eighth day of July in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety-five and the commonwealth the TWENTIETH. Attest, James Trimble, deputy Sec'y. Patent, John Ullery, 169 As. land, Bedford County. Enrolled in the Rolle Office for the State of Pennsylvania, in Pat. Book No. 25, page 407. Witnesseth my hand and seal of office, the 28th day of July, 1795. MATH. IRWIN. (76) I also hold the original patent issued to John Ullery, or Woolery, for three hundred and thirty-seven acres and one hundred and two perches. The patent for part of this land was dated June 6th, 1791, and for the remainder of it July 14th, 1795. Part of D. M. Bare's farm and the largest part of Roaring Spring is of this last purchase. There were three, possibly four dwellings in sight from our new home; one small building on the point just in front of us, another one located near where the Wilderson girls now live, and the Spang mansion. In addition to these was the old toll gate building, still standing, now occupied by Wisler Brothers, and projecting into Main Street, and another log dwelling located near where Wesley Ferry's house now stands. This was the home of Daniel Garber, the ancestor of the numerous Garber families of the town. I boarded with this family when I came to Roaring Spring until we moved into our new home. As I now remember it, from September, 1863 to the first of January, 1864, I spent the most of my time at Spang's mill, attending to the business of the mill and looking after the building of our new house. I think I put up a bed in the then empty store building and slept there part of the time, and some times drove back to Pattonsville in the evening. Andrew Spanogle took possession of the Pattsonsville property in the fall of (77) 1863 and my father remained with them for some months after which he again came to make his home with us. At the time of this move from Pattonsville to Spang's Mill our family consisted of my wife and myself and our children, Clara and Ella, Ella having come to us while we lived in Pattonsville. Adeline Boner came with us, a girl of about sixteen, who some years later became the wife of John J. Garber, son of Daniel Garber, and they became the parents of numerous Garber families of this town and vicinity. Some time in December, 1863, I went to Philadelphia to buy a stock of goods for the new store that was about to be opened where a number of persons had tried it before but with not very much success. This store was opened during the last days of December and my helper in the store was Lewis Spiece, who had clerked for me at Pattonsville but had been in the nine months' service in the war and had been discharged just previous to his coming with me. At that time there was a store at Upper Maria Forge, one at Lower Maria and one at McKee's Gap; these were Iron Works stores and not patronized much outside their own employees. Our store sales for the first few years were not as large as at Pattonsville, but they left us some profit for our work. Lewis Spiece, who had I think been a sergeant in the nine months' service, decided the following summer to recruit a company here of which he was (78) elected captain. This company was further officered by Henry Lower as first lieutenant, and David Butler as second lieutenant, Lieut. Lower was killed in the battle in front of Petersburg the next winter. My helpers in the store after that were Charley Nicodemus and John Bowers. The miller in charge of the old mill when I came to Spang's Mill was Joseph Lecrone, the father of William (deceased) of Woodbury. He was succeeded by Frederick Grass soon after I came and Mr. Grass continued several years and was in turn succeeded by W. J. Galbraith. The Garber and the John Lower families were our most intimate neighbors for some time, but I think some time within the first year the John Price family moved here and were followed probably less than a year later by the James Detrick family. Both of these families were from Pattonsville. Basil J. Daniels, the blacksmith, was also one of the early settlers here, followed soon after by the J. M. Hite family. Mr. Hite was a cabinet maker, and our first undertaker. Mr. Job Spang probably built the frame store building and kept a store in it for a number of years. After that Jacob Martin and later still Mr. Robert Todd had a store in that building, but it was vacant when we bought the property. Spang's Mill post office had been located in the store building presumably as long as a store had been kept there, but when Mr. (79) Todd vacated the building the office was moved down to the Upper Forge store and Alexander Gwin, the bookkeeper at the iron works, was appointed postmaster and he was serving in that capacity when we came here. My first appointment as postmaster at that place was made by Alexander W. Randall, postmaster general, under date of Feb'y. 26th, 1868. I was then commissioned to be postmaster at "Spang's Mill," but during this same year it had been decided to change the name of the post office and town to Roaring Spring and a new commission for the new name was issued by the same postmaster general under date of December 23rd, 1868. I held this commission and kept the postoffice in our store at Roaring Spring until Nov. 30, 1883, at which time I resigned in favor of Chas. W. Zook, who with myself have been the only Republican postmasters at Roaring Spring to this time. Thos. Z. Replogle, who was postmaster under the Cleveland administration, and Ranson Burket, the present postmaster, were the only two Democrats who held this office, consequently, Roaring Spring has had but four postmasters in more than fifty years. I had previously been postmaster at Pattonsville, Pa., and that commission was issued by Jos. Holt, postmaster general, under date of Jan'y. 12th, 1860. This office I filled for nearly four years and I have, therefore, served as postmaster about nineteen years. (80) Page Blank Continued . . .