Muhlenberg County, Kentucky - The whole text, 1913 (part 5 of 13)

Commenting on this subject, Mr. Weir says: "Had not the Regulators pursued the course described in the present case, they never would have discovered the nest of villains, and they might have gone on step by step, until it would have become dangerous for an honest man to move from his door, unless armed and guarded as if in the country of an enemy. It is true, lynching may at times result in the punishment of innocent men. Rascals may ever and anon take advantage of the ciustom to revenge themselves upon their enemies. The law itself may, in a manner, be brouglit into con- tempt by a reckless indifference of appealing to it for punishment or protection. But, upon the whole, taking everything into consideration, time, place and circumstances, we think reg:ulating or lynching, although an evil, was then sometimes a necessary one."

''A multitude of furious, reckless and unmanageable men," continues Mr. Weir, ''assembled together in some city, bent upon the destruction of property or punishment of obnoxious persons, is called a mob. A company of men assembled with the same purpose or design, but meeting in the woods instead of the city, are dubbed with the title of Regulators. A community uniting together with the intent of resisting the laws of the land and overthrowing the regularly constituted government, if unsuccessful, receives the odious name of rebels; but if their attempt be crowned with victory, then, instead of rebellion, it is dignified with the more exalted and glorious title of revolution."

After referring to Ireland's wrongs, to ''Bouis Philippe with a recollection of a former revolution in France," to the troubles of Germany and It.ily, and to how ''F.mperor and Pope have alike been compelled to submit to the expanding will of the people," the author adds (failing, however, to refer to anarchy and its troubles) : ''Our Regulators, who were nothing more nor less than a country mob, had their evils to remedy, and, as they met with entire and complete success in all their undertakings, the only question that now remains is whether they, like the victorious French, shall be applauded, or like the unsuccessful Irish, meet with condemnation." Since the work of the Regulators and the execution of Lonz Pennington resulted in a general suppression of lawle.ssness and a general reformation of the country, Mr. Weir is, of course, inclined to say ''they shall be applauded."

One is indeed tempted to refer to many other arguments and incidents introduced by the author and to quote from them. But the selection is so large and varied that one scarce knows which to choose. Besides, lack of space limits this chapter to a short biographical sketch of the author, to a rough outline of the plot of ''I»nz Powers," and to a few remarks on the subjwt of the Regulators. Thi^se three subjects I have bric'fly reviewed. However, this review would be far from complete if I did not refer to the fact that during the course of the story the author discus.ses, at length and in a very entertaining manner, the many subjects that are incidentally intro<lueed.

These communings, meditations, dt>scriptions, and moralizations are interesting and unusually humorous. Among ''the themes which skirt the roadside of the narrative" are Mr. Weir's description of the old military muster. Pilot Rock and The Barrens, a dog supper, a steeplechase, and the improbable style of conversation as given in fiction; hereditary vices and virtues: the tree of life; influence of victuals on verse; prospects of war in the indissoluble I'nion; modes of dcer-liunting in Kentucky; botanizing as an art in courtship; knitting and its elTects upon lovers and the price of socks; hypocrisj' among the so-called admirers of Milton's Paradise Lost; the road-working age of old men and young l>oys; grammar from a theoretical and practical standpoint; the bliss of a brandy cocktail, and a score or two of other themes.

I have tried to present a general idea of ''Ia)nz Powers, or The Regulators." the author's ver.satility. literary style, his complete conception of the subject, and his thorough knowledge of the old-time Regulators. I found it an extremely interesting book from a historical and literary as well as from a local standpoint.

author devotes his twenty-ninth chapter to the town of his birth - Greenville. This entire chapter, with the exception of alwut one page of irrelevant dialogue, is here reproduced.

In the early part of his reminiseenees Mr. Weir gives a picture of Greenville as it was when he was a schoolboy in the early thirties of the la.st century. The "Village Tavern" referred to was the old Uussell Tavern, which was among the lirst houses built in Greenville and was conducted by the liu.s.sells for more than half a century. The "sweet little ehureh" was the old Preshyterinn church east of the courthou.se. The "old soldier of the second war" of whom he writes is Charles Fox Wing. The "auger-hole" incident, according to the story of "I/onz Powers," took place in 1844. The "Diitchtiian's" store, tradition says, was run by two brothers, I.saa(! and Simon Oberdorfer, who after living in Greenville for a few years returned to their native town in another part of the State.

It may he well to remind the reader that in the preface to "I/onz Powers" .Mr. Weir remarks that his story is "founded on fact," but that as an author he sometimes indulges in "the privileges of the craft." To what extent he has here, at times, indulged in an author's license can he more readily seen than told. In the whole sketch we may read the good-humored .satire of the young Greenvillian who had removed to a larger and more bustling community. Nevertheless it contains much that is tender recollection. The .sketch follows:

Till- little town of Greenville located on, if not .seven hills, - like the immortal eit.v of the Ca*sars, - at lea.st half that number, was, a few da.vs after the events deserilanl in our la.st chapter |his chapter XXVIII), the theatre of great exeitement, and not a little wonder and astonishment. Vou must understand. dear reader, that year after year, for at least one generation preceding the incidents we are now about relating, the good citizens of this primitive town had lived, or rather vegetated, in one great, grand calm, unruffled by a single storm.

From time immemorial (or at least so far back as my memory runneth, for this quiet spot was my birthplace) the bell on the village tavern had rung out its alarm-notes for breakfast long before the peep of day: dinner followed at eleven, .supper at four, and by seven, or eight at the outside, all the sober and respectable portion of the villagers were in bed. Yet I have known - although it was by no means a frequent thing - some wild, dissipated young blades (as they were then calledi, greatly to the horror and

The customs of this retired village were as ancient as the village itself, and never changed nor varied in the least, for the good villagers not once dreamed of wandering a hair's breadth from the old beaten path of their fathers. Week after week, month after month, and year after year, quietly .stole by, hut the people, the town, and the fashions continued one and the same, unchanged, and, in their estimation, unchangeahle.

The citizens sat at the same corners, and under the same shadetrees, and nearly, if not altogether, the same men and lioys, father and son, day by day, as they had done for a quarter of a centur.v. .\ stranger might have ridden through that quiet and peaceful little town, at the period of whieli we are speaking, continued hi'' journey through Kurope, .\sia, and Africa, consuming half a lifetime, and then returning, would have found exactly the .same company, sitting in the same place, engaged in the same business, and talking pretty much about the same things.

what was .still more singular, never grew any better or worse. They remained always looking just the same us though death had swept away the entire communit.v, and time, with its ravages and decay, so far ns they were concerned, had ceased to l>e.

The old seminar.v (a .sacred and holy place in our memor.vl perched upon one hill - the sweet little church upon another - and the eourthouse and jail (as if typical of justice guarded by religion and education) immediately between, have remained just in that position, never improving nor growing worse, until the memory of man knoweth not to the contrary. We have man.v pleasant memories of that old seminary, and of the ancient pedagogues who figured and flourished there in the happy days of our bo.vhood. Like the village itself, our old schoolmasters were an odd. unaccountable set, with queer notions of their own, for those fashioners and formers of the mind, those polishers and bcautifiers of the most glorious gift of (5od to man, those workers not in gold and jewels, but in a far more precious and priceless commodity, who figured upon the stage in my day, were a species

' Lucy Wing, daughter of Charles Fox Wing, in 1S46 married Jonathan Short, who died in 1882. In 1888 she became the third wife of Doctor William H. Yost. She was born in Greenville. June 16, 1822. and has lived there all her life - more than ninety years. She is known as the "Grand Old Lady of Greenville," During the time referred to by James Weir in his recollections of Greenville she was a girl of about ten. (See footnote 2. page 79.)

I well remember one of these ancient trainers of the young mind, who, for want of a better, was for a time made grand Czar of the old seminary, and I can never, even now, think of his little school, and the rare scenes enacted under his reign and superintendence, without a burst of laughter.

He was an odd, dis- .iointed little fellow, - a reverend, by the by, - without much knowledge of books and with still le.ss of politeness or etiquette, yet on every Friday evening would he make liis entire school go through a thorough drill in "curtseys," "iKiwing," "leaving and entering the n>om," and in "formal introductions one to the other," done up, ns he imagined, in the best Chesterfield (Count D'Orsay was not then in vogue) style, and, as 1 know myself, much red-headed, bare-footed, and

1 have been a little awkward and stiff in my Iwwing ever .since those polishing Fridays of my younger days, and believe in my soul 1 never will forget tile ungraceful, formal bows drubbed into me by this sidioolmnster of the "aneieu regime."

This same little fellow had also a great, and I might say, superlative idea of female loveliness, and conceived it to be not only his duty to polish the minds and manners of his .scholars, but to add, if possible, new charms to their natural beauty. He was in the habit of saying, at each one of these drill day.s, and sometimes even during the week, "that the most lovely and attractive feature of the female face was the serene smile." Hence regularly, on these stated evenings, would he form all the girls of his school in a long line, and then go through the exerei.se of putting on the "serene smile." Jupiter and Haechus, what a sight! Cniikshank should have seen that review ! A good .sketch would have made his everlasting fortune, and eausisl the death or life of every sour anti-laugher in the Union.

There we sat - the boys dirty, barefooted, and grinning with delight - white first the little, ungainly, ero.ss-eyed (for he had a horrible squint) teacher would draw up his mouth to a proper focus, and. with a smirk and heavenly roll of the eye, give a sample of the "smile serene," and then girl after girl, along down the line, would follow with grim contortion and grimace his most beautiful and charming example; and thus we had the "serene smile" with all the variations. Some of the larger and more intelligent girls, struck with the ridiculousness of this ".serene review." would merely smile in derision and contempt ; and to these he invariably gave the badge of excellence in this particular branch of his exercises. To this day the young ladies of this little village, remembering the "serene exercises" of their aneient beautifier, often catch themselves unconsciously going through the "serene smile"; and his scholars generally may now be pointed out and known by the great serenity of their countenances. Peace be to the old pedagogue! If he is still alive, may he die with a "serene smile" upon his lips; and if he is dead, may his scholars remember the lesson he taught them, and "smile serenely" to his memory.

I remember still another famous teacher, who flourished for many years as superior of this academy when we were a wild Ixiy ; and his name must and shall not go down to the grave unhonoured and unsung, as long as we have a goose-quill and ink to dot down his peculiarities. When inflicting punishment, he never used the rod, but vented his ire by pulling the nose, ears, and hair of the offender. To such length did he carry his nose and earology that the tnistees of the school were compelled by public opinion, and the elephantine growth of the junior villagers' probosces, to call a special meeting and pass a law forever forbidding any further elongation of these neces-sary members of the faee divine. Once set by the cars, and fully alive to the importance of the occasion, the trustees not only put a stop to the .squeezing of smellers, but forever put an end to "ear-pulling." This special statute was all that saved us; for even as it was, these features had got such a start, that they are now much larger and longer than there is any particular nece.ssity for. But, as the commercial papers would say, after this decline of ear and uo.se punishments, there was a visible and rapid increase in the demand for hair.

Our good teacher being deprived, by one stroke of the trustees' pen, of his two greatest gratifications, took to wool-gathering in the most serious and most extensive manner. There is no telling how many of us would now he patronizing the wig-makers (for, as it i.s, we are generally coolly covered about the cranium) had not a young friend and myself hit upon a glorious plan of putting a stop, and forever, to this la.st pleasure of our old master.

On a certain morning, without any cause or provocation (as you may all well know), this hair-plucking teacher of ours, who wore a wig himself, and therefore held all hair in utter abomination, took it into his head to give my young friend, who was bles.sed with white locks, and myself, who had just the opposite, a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together, and such a pull that made our heads tingle, and which we (or at least I can speak for myself) have not yet forgotten. Like a second-rate power when insulted by a superior, we smothered our ire for the time; but the hour of vengeance was at hand, for we had hit upon a plan of operations and only awaited a (it season to put it in execution. So, when the .school was dismissed for dinner, revenge took the place of hunger, and we spent the entire vacation in picking up and gathering together every stray hair we could find in the school-room. No lover ever thought more of, or treated with greater respect and tenderness, the flowing ringlets of his mistre.ss. than we did each straggling white, red, or black bair, gathered on that day from the dust and dirt of that little room.

To these, when wearied with searching, we added a bunch pulled from the white locks of my friend, by parlirular request ; and folding them all neatly together, making quite a respectable collection, he bore them triumphantl.v, as a memento of our teacher's cruelty and barbarity, to his father. The old man, although a pleasant and kind-hearted gentleman enough, was very apt to use his knotty cane, and that, too, without much delay or examination, whenever he was excited by anything mean or outrageous, and we counted upon this trait in his character for vengeance. Our teacher, however, by some means unknown to the author, escaped the drubbing he so well deserved, and which we so confidently anticipated, but was forever after very chary how' he pulled hair.

The citizens of this little place have lived so long together, having the same habits and customs, enjoying the same sunshine and shade, taught by the same teachers, and worshipping in the same church, that they all bear a faint resemblance to each other, and look for all the world like a great family of relations. The old men never grow any older, and the young men remain in "statu quo"; only they all have a premature appearance of middle age. Smoking, until a few years back, was a thing unknown, or known only to be universally condemned. Railroads, steamboat.s. and telegraphs, and all such things, would do to talk about, hut were believed to be rather sinful inventions, made for the pur- \1| 1/ pose of desecrating the Sabbath, received. The fashions wei-e never changed; for these retired jieople cared not a fig for Paris, or the latest style. The same old tailors who did the cutting and modelling when 1 was a boy still remain, and form and fashion the Sunday finery of the modern dandy. During the week, or working day.s, the clothes of the community were about the same in fashion, material, and appearance. The lawyer, divine, merchant, clerk, meehanie, and lalxuirer all alike wore shocking bad hats, ragged coats, patched pants, and unblacked shoes, and were equally indifferent as to dress. They have not yet entirely forgotten their ancient habits, and a little patching and blacking would not be at all injurious or unbecoming. If they kill the poor brute for liis hide, we think it nothing but fair and right and proper that they should keep liis .skin always in mourning. Humanity reipiires this much at their hands.

But when Sunday came, it was quite another thing. This was a day for ransacking old trunks and bandboxes; and you wouldn't begin to know your acquaintances of the week, without a fresh introduction. The villagers mounted their best, and now was the time to tell who was who; for the swinging black, laid away during the week, made its seventh-day appearance, glittering in the sunshine; and blankets, easinets. and jeans coats. - very respectable on common occasions, - were nowhere in comparison with

-Charles Melzker was the last of the German-Amertcan pioneers to settle In Muhlenberg. He came to Greenville from Virginia In 1836, and for twenty years ran a large and well-known blacksmith and wagon shop, in which he made and repaired many of the farming Implements and wagons used in the county. He was horn October 21. 1810. and died In Greenville October 8. 1857. Among his eight children was William H. Metzker, who married Susan E. Paxton, a daughter of Joseph Paxton. Joseph Paxton died August I.">, 1884. at the age of eighty-flve.

the wool-dyed, sliort-napped, imported broadcloth. This custom of all going alike during the week, and in the same careless, ragged manner, was and is not clone on account of meanness or parsimony; not at all, - for the citizens of Greenville have always been noted for liberality and generosity. - but merely because they are all known to each other, very seldom see any strangers, and can not understand or conceive any particular use or necessity in troubling themselves about their apparel. On Sunday it is another thing altogether ; for their fathers before them set the custom of shaving and dressing up on this particular occasion, and they but follow in their footsteps. It is a mark of respect to the sacred day and answers the purpose of a kind of almanac to let them know how time is passing. They have strange notions of the world in this little town, for they look upon every foreigner as an enemy', and watch his movements with a rather suspicious and jealous eye. They' have heard from their merchants, who travel Kast once a year (and are therefore considered most daring and wonderful voyagers), of robbers, pickpockets, and other such fellows, and have, from the horrible accounts given by these travelers, come pretty much to the conclusion that all the remainder of the world outside of their boundaries are engaged in one or the other of these laudable oecupations, and are to be at any rate considered dishonest until they' prove themselves the contrary.

As to whiskers or other hirsute ornament.s, they are not only estecmeil prima facie evidence, but proof positive of rascality and villany of the darkest grade. Xo such a thing has ever been tolerated, but have always been held in the strictest almmination ; and a person visiting this village with one of these hairy appendages would run a great risk of being mobbed, or at least thrown into prison on suspicion of horse-stealing. One or two men in my' remembrance have been convicted and sent to the penitentiary' on no other evidence; and one fellow, who had only escaped the same fate by a hung jur.v, was at the next term acquitted by acclamation, he having followed his lawyer's advice and freed himself from this suspicious encumbrance. The good citizens have always laid it down as an axiom (and with some degree of rea.son) that no honest man would thus attempt to conceal his countenance. The lawyers who practice at this court are the most barefaced in the circuit ; and those sporting whiskers generall.y spend the better part of the Sunday previous in getting up a clean face - I won't add heart, for the.v are not generally supposed to be troubled with any' such com inodity.

One i>oor devil of a half-military' attoriie.v was so green, or ignorant of the eu.stoms of this Hip Van Winkle village, as to make his appearance during term-time ornamented not only with whiskers, but a moii.staehe. He only escaped the penitentiary, prison or mob. by' a slight mi.stake as to his genus, being laken by most of the eifizens for a stray babo<in from a travc'- ling menagerie. As such he was looked upon, admired, wondered at, and followed around by the boys and negroes, and last, through humanity for a poor dumb brute, allowed to escape. It was only their ignorance, that such a thing as a mou-stache was ever worn, that saved the poor fellow. As it was. he made a most narrow e.seape; and, upon learning the dangers and perils through which he had pa.ssed, became so alarmed that he fled the country immediately, and has never been heard of to this day.

The amusements of this quiet town were lus simple and harmle.ss as might be expected with such primitive, unsophisticated people. At the period of which I am speaking, the old and middle-aged sat in the shade talking polities, or dreaming away their days in listless indolence, only varying their monotonous life by going to church regularly on Sunday. The young gentlemen, being a little more full of life and spirit than their fathers, played marbles, and, when tired of this manly amusement, did the same as the old men, only they gave tone to their sittings by vigorous whittling on bo.xes and benche.s, now and then adding variety to their innocent sport by slyly gallanting the girls to church, whenever they could catch an opportunity of doing so, without being observed by their friends or mammas. Card-playing, wine-bibbing, balls, horse-racing, dancing, and other such pleasures were things unknown, or if known, never happened during my day and

Chri.stma.s, the 8th of January, and 22d of Fehruary, our three great national holidays, were either forgotten - consideretl no better than their other three hundred and sixty-two fellow.s - or passed by unnoticed, merely from indifferenee or their total repugnance to all noise and confusion. The glorious Fourth of July - that most celebrated and memorable of all our days - would have shared the same silent fate, had it not been for an old soldier of the second war. Regularly did this old patriot, from my earliest recollection (and it was a great and bright epoch in my Iwyish days), rear his liberty pole and cap of freedom on every coming Fourth. On the third, let it be sunshine or storm, he would repair to the woods, and there felling the loftiest pole he could find, always eschewing hickory. - for he

- What was for many years known as the Metzker House, Greenville, was be- Run In 1824 by Reverend Kzlas Earle. The place was purchased In 1847 by Charles Metzker. who erected the two-story addition In front of the original house. I..ater the entire log structure was wealherboarded. It was occupied by the Metzker family for many years. This landmark was torn down In 1911, and on the site the William A. WIcklllTe residence was built.

was a most inveterate Whig, - he would remove it to the public s<iunre, and on the morning of the Fourth, bright and early, before the rising of the sun, would he bring out his old banner, with its stripes and stars, and proudly send it up into the heavens. For three days would he let his eagle, his stars, and his stripi^s flutter gaily in the winds, in lionour of the day and to the memory of his gallant ancestors; but on the fourth he would again take down his worn and sometimes tattered banner, and folding it up, sacredly lay it away, to do the same honour to the coming year. It was a simple and touching net of devotion, and well worthy of the old soldier's heart. Our country's proud flag is dear to all of us, but still more so to him who has fought and suffered under its protecting folds. The old man's gray hairs, and his glad shout, and his deep emotion when his banner would sweep out from the flagstaff, and his old eagle unfold her broad wings and flap them joyfully in the wind, will never be forgotten by us.

The rearing of that cap of liberty and flag was the most memorable event of my childhood days. I waited for it, and dreamed of it, and sprang up with the coming liglit to see the first and last of it, and danced and sang around it, and shouted with joy as the old man cheered its upward flight. May that gallant old soldier and honoiirer of the Fourth live to unfold his star-decked banner through many a coming year; for, when he dies, then will this old flag be forgotten, this proud act of devotion lie buried with his throbless heart, and this ancient village, the home of my infancy, be left without an honoured day.

Those were bright days - the days of our early youth, when every passing event brought happiness ; w'hen every thought was the genuine outpouring of unsophisticated nature, and when all our hopes and dreams were of a golden hue. They are gone now - and no longer do we wake to cheer the old flag in her upward flight ; no more will we wander by the little branch, and lave our limbs in its bright waters ; and never again will we sit in that old seminary, or carve the name of our boy-love upon the widespreading beech. We wished then for manhood, and prayed then for the time when we would mingle with the world. We have got our wish, and would like right well if we were a boy again. The world is not what we expected; for the glorious garden of our young anticipations has its thorns as well as its flowers. Glory has proven a bauble; and love, patriotism, and friendship are too intimately combined with selfishness, hypocrisy, and deceit to afford much pleasure. We would gladly exchange our manhood, with all its proud privileges and cares, for "the days when we went gipsying a long time ago," through the hills and valleys around that retired little village. We had far more heartfelt pleasure in fishing in that little branch and stringing our minnows, than we have ever had, or ever will have, in fishing for "gtidgeons or whales" in this great world-sea of ours.

No wonder the good citizens are wedded to that quiet place, and think no home so lovely and enchanting as that forest-emlx)wered home of theirs. The neat little ehurch, the silent, sunny dells, the quiet, retired graveyard, the old oak covered with the wild vine, the gay, sweet-scented rose, springing up over fence and hedge, the tumbling brook, and the still, dreamy quietude of the place, give such an air of rural beauty and patriarchal innocence to that retired and peaceful spot that no one could but love that fairy scene.

Death but seldom left the footprints of his sad tread within the boundaries of that quiet town. He walks abroad in the crowded city and swarming thoroughfare, leaving behind him a gloomy path of sorrow, marching to the wail of the living and the last sigh of the dead ; but to this retired place he but rarely takes Ids way, only mowing down those who are ripe for the sickle, and leaving the young vine.s green and fiouri.shing, until time shall wither their soft young tendrils and fit them for the reaper and the grave. Yet that shady little graveyard, where a man would almost be willing to lie down and .sleep forever, with its short, myrtle-covered mounds and little head and f«K)t-stones, tells of fair young flowers, eriishisl in their first bloom of infantile beauty, untimely withered; of prattling tongues hushed in their sunny glee; of earthly treasures swept away; and that "Thou hast all seasons for thine own, 0 Death !"

Many a sad talc of heavy afiliction is brought again to our memory by looking upon those monuments of love in that still and silent resting-place of the dead, and many a simple but sorrowful story could be told of those who people that village graveyard. For, although sicknes-s and death but rarely visited that retired spot, yet long years had brought many to that la.st home.

That grave, far away by itself, alone and without companionship, unmarked by head or foot-stone, desolate and solitary, and almost sm<X)th with the common turf, is as vivid now in my imagination as when, shuddering, I crept stealthily by it many years ago. Tt is the last resting-place of the suicide. His was a sad fate, and one of the strangest and most horrihle events that over disturbed the quiet monotony of the village. He came there a stranger, upon an errand of love, and no doubt with a heart alive to gladness and gay with brilliant anticipations of the coming future. His busines.s was to obtain the ms-1-s.sary papers to consummate his marriage with the fair young girl he had wooed and won. He was successful, and when upon his return to the homo of his intended bride, while yet upon his way.

little dreaming of evil, he was met by an enemy and cruelly insulted. Resenting the injury, he in his rage threatened further punishment to his foe, and that foe, too cowardly to meet him, as a brave man, hand to hand, took a coward's revenge by having him arrested and taken before a magistrate. He was there, upon the oath of his craven antagonist, bound over to keep the peace, and as he was a stranger, and no one appeared to go his security, was committed (as the law directs) to prison for the want of bail. The same sun that beheld him joyous and light-hearted, leaving the little village and hurrying with sparkling eye to the presence of her he lovixl, beheld him again, and ere it had sunk to rest in the distant west, with bondaged arm, desponding heart, and gloomy brow, placed within the cheerless walls of the village prison. This may be a necessary law. but it often works great injury and injustice, and we have known it too frequently made the engine of a coward's vengeance. It has been said that

The poor prisoner must have undergone this fierce Imsom-strife, or sunk in utter despondency under this heavy blow, at one stroke crushing all his fond hopes and joyous imaginings; for on the following morning, when visited by the jailer, he was found suspended by the neck - dead ! a horrible and terrible object, with his purple swollen face and starting eyes! In the hour of solitude and madness, he had become the victim of his own hand, and died in prison. Instead of embracing his bride, he clasped death to his bosom, and now his soul was in eternity, and his disfigured corpse left to the wonder of the gaping villagers.

Well do we remember that ghastly and terrible scene, and the cold, chilly sensations that stole through our heart as we looked upon that shuddering sight, and beheld his now usele.ss license, and that plain gold ring glittering with pale, unearthly light upon his swollen finger. No one thought of moving that ring from his stiff, clammy hand ! It was the last fond gift of a doting mother, a gentle sister, or, may be, one even dearer than these. But there it was - he prized it when alive, and it rests with him now in his dishonoured grave. His Itody was taken by the jailer and his assistants and carried to his last long home - that lonely grave: and there, without a frieml, without a mourner, without a sigh, a tear, or a prayer, was buried the stranger suicide. There, upon the top of the hill, rest the whites; a little farther down, placed below those who were their masters before death made them all equal, sleep the blacks; and there, still farther down, below them all, without a stone or a monument, without even a head-stone or a line to tell his name and fate, .slumbers, (piiet and still enough, the victim of suicide. Solitaiy and alone, separate and apart, and away from his fellows, as if there were not enough solitude in the grave, re.sts the mouldering remains of that unfortunate man. We shunned that humble grave when we were a boy, for there was something startling and terrible to our young heart when we thought of his mournful death ; but in after years we often stood by that lonely mound, and mused long and sorrowfully over his sad, sad fate.

But our story is not of the past nor of the dead. - and we must leave this beautiful and .sacred s|K)t, with all its sad memories, and mingle again with the living.

We know, gentle reader, you will pardon this wandering of ours; for who can think of his ehildhood, and the merry days of youth - when all was sunshine and song - without paying a passing tribute to the good old days of yore, and to the memory of his ancient home. This was indeed a strange little town, with its queer old habits and customs, and its simple-hearted, contented inhabitants. But, notwithstanding they thought not as the world thinks, and had little to do with the novelties, amusements, and fashions of the day, yet within that quiet, unpretending village, as novel as it may appear, there were men of the highest talent and genius; and as a general thing, the citizens were as intelligent and well educated as in any place, of the same population, in Kentucky or the world. Then w'e must not forget the ladies. Unlike the males, who eared so little for dress or fashion, they have ever followed the customs of the changing age, if not as strictly as some, at least close enough never to be odd. or to attract attention by the antiquity of their apparel. Inheriting all the beauty of mother Eve, blessed with rare intelligence, gifted with much natural grace, and remarkable for their modesty and gentleness of heart, they are well fitted in every respect to grace the drawing-rooms of the proudest and lovelie.st of all our land, and cannot be c.veelled in anything becoming or lovely in the character of a woman.

Taking all things together, this quiet little village was as plea.sant a home as could be found in many days' journey, a kind of modern Arcadia, with its peaceful calmncs.s, - "a happy valley" (something like that from which Rasselas escaped), where a man could live and dream away life, unruffled by a single storm.

But, as we have already remarked, a long time ago, in the commencement of this chapter, the great, grand Dead Sea calm which had fallen upon this wavelcss and billowless village was now broken and rent asunder. The quiet and peace which had rested over that ancient town for so many years Yvas now destroyed, and destroyed forever! Never again will our old home be what it once was, when we were a boy, and when the good old teacher went through his "serene review,'' giving forth his riband of honour to the successful "smiler, '' All the male inhabitants of the village, from the oldest to the youngest, were now gathered together in awful wonderment, crowding with staring eyes (and for them, frightful commotion) around, not the mouth of the raging Vesuvius, or a great opening in the earth, such as Curtius elosed, - patriotically closed, - but around nothing more nor less than an "auger-hole,'' Ves, gentle reader, it was not another sack of Rome, neither was it another rape of the Sabines, but it was a genuine, bona fide "auger-hole,'' and, in the language of Free Tom, "it Yvasn't nothing else,'' But this unusual and unlooked-for sight (found where it was) was quite sufficient to stir up all the latent energies of that hitherto sleeping community.

Old Rip, once awake, has never again been caught napping, and, from the morning of this commotion, there has been a rapid and wonderful change going on in the habits and notions of the people, and in the appearance of that little village. The lethargy and apathy which had so long Imrne heavily upon them, crushing their motive power, and laying a distinctive mark between them and the balance of the world, once broken, never again resumed their sway. From that day you may date the first inroad of cigars and whiskers. From that hour, old iiousea have become new - old coats have been trimmed, and docked, and remodelled - bell-crown hats have given away to sliarp tops - round-toed to square-toed slioes - and the peace of that hitherto silent town is now nightly broken by tbe braying of a "brass band" and the puff of a steam-engine, and, what is still more strange, all these changes and improvements are mainly ascribable to that "auger-hole."

You must not suppose that these quiet villagers were ignorant of mechanics or mechanical instruments, and had never before seen an "augerbole" ; for it was not so, since for many years they bad been well acquainted with the science of "boring." Do not think, for a moment, that we use the word "boring" in its fashionable sense, for we have no such intention, and, if we did, it would not be true, for the good citizens, among their other strange peculiarities, were not in the habit of talking much, but, on the contrary, were rather reserved and much given (if such a thing can be) to silence. This particular "auger-hole," which was then creating so much excitement and which has since been the cause of such wonderful changes, was discovered in the window-blind of the Dutchman's store, one of their principal stores, a very unusual place, not at all necessary, either for light, safety, or beauty. No wonder they were surprised and suspicious; for that little hole, although then harmless, and not large enough for a fairy to slip through without greasing, still augured, not only the presence of an auger (the.v could have forgiven that), but of a robber and burglar!

Like tbe footsteps discovered by Crusoe upon tbe sand.v beach of his little island, it told of danger, and that they were no longer safe, unless .secured by loi'k and bar. Tbe good citizens wondered much, s-tudied long, looked intently, and shook their heads; pointed at the ominous hole, and talked in low whispers; suspected every man with whiskers that they could bring to memory, and yet they hesitated, and were in doubt what to do or where to turn tor safety. But, while still deep in their mazy cogitations, they were suddenly arou.sed by loud cries of distress, and the little Dutchman, wringing his hands and swearing, burst in upon the amazed crowd, crying out that he had been robbed. . . .

The crowd had now a faint inkling of the cause of his wailing, and, like politicians deserting a fallen star, left, without a sigh or backward look, the hitherto fearful and wonderful and niysteriou.s "auger-hole," and ru.shed pellmell to the Dutchman's store.

And there, sure enough, were all the marks and evidences of the midnight robbery, for the burglars had left broad traces of their recent presence. The money-desk had been broken open, and all the poor Dutchman's hard-earned spoils, with the exception of a handful of coppers and a few German pieces, not considered pure coin (and which the thieves had scorned to take), carried away. Ilis goods, too, had not been treated with that gentleness and care with which a well-trained salesman would have handled such articles, hut were thrown about in wild confusion over counter and floor, and all that were of any great value had been removed, by the very choice and select robbers, to some other market.

While the e.xcitcd crowd were still gazing with speechless dismay and liorn)r upon the.se unmistakable evidences of a daring robljery, committed in their very midst, a countryman rode up, and, being informed of the cause of this unprecedented tumult, declared that he had seen, only a few hours previous, a band of bearded men, travelling with great rapidity along a certain solitary road, and that they hud many bundles and packs, so many that he had taken them for movers or a company of hunters.

"Ay, they are the robbers 1" shouted the whole as.sembly, without a dissenting voice, now that they had certain proof as to the whiskers, - for they would have eonviete<i any man on such evidence as that.

A few moments later, a company of well-armed and well-mounted men. led by the countryman as guide, dashed from the village in hot pursuit of the daring invaders. Nor was it many hours before they discovered, in a lonely wood, lainz Powers and a hand of his desperadoes, for they were the robbers and burglars who had thus rudely disturbed the security of that unguarded town, 'rile villagers were bold men. excitwl with the hope of making a terrible example of tho.se daring villains who had so rashly destroyed the peace of their quiet realm, and did not hesitate how to act when once in view of their retreating foe. So soon as within slitKding di.stance, they poured in a volley from pistol, shotgun, and rifle, and with a loud shout charged gallantly u[)on the enemy. The robbers were well mounted, for they had the pick of the country in their liorse-s, and, not choosing to meet their enraged pursuers, dropped their spoils, dashing off helter-skelter through the woods, every man for himself, as fa.st as their .stetHls, urged by whip, and sjiur, and voice, could carry them. With hut one exception, they all escaped; and he, his horse being di.sabled by the first fire, fell into the hands of the villagers, and was afterwards induced by some very striking reasons given him (by the Regulators, into whose tender hands he was in a few days eommitted'l, to make very valuable discoveries, which eventually put an end to the career of I^onz Powers and his companions.

Proudly the exulting conquerors returned to the village, loaded with the recovered gt)ods of the Dutchman, and hearing in their midst, lx)und hand and foot, a fierce, dark-visaged, black-whiskered bandit. The prisoner was a .sullen, devilish-looking eut-throat as one would care alwiit meeting; returning stare for stare with the gaping villagers, and refusing to answer any questions, or doing so only in a dogged, sullen tone, defying them to do their worst, and threatening every imaginable vengeance.

Many a ru.sly. long-disused fowling-piece or pistol was dragged from its hiding-place on that memorable night. .Many a door, that never knew a lock before, was made intimately acquainted with that civilized guard : and many an anxious citizen had a weary, broken sleep of it, dreaming of huge whiskers as big as the isiurt-house cupola, fiourishing away upon the faces of terrible ami hiileous robbers; .starting at every slam of a crazy windowshutter, and imagining the gnawing of the hungry rat the file of the desperate burglar. It was a dreadful, uneasy night to the m*rvous idllagers - that first night after the robbery - and it will not be .soon forgotten, for. since that time, they date all events from that memorable epoch; and it has become just ns much a habit with them to say. "from the year of the great robbery." as it used to be, "from the year of the shakes."

Alas! sweet little village! thy (piiet and spirit-like stillness so dreamy and fairy-like, is now gone; ami. 1 fear me much, gone never to return. Thy citizens have tasted excitement, and for one entire day the usual places of resort have been deserted, and the ordinary amusements swallowed up in wihl astonishment, first, at the "auger-hole." then, at the actual scene of robbery, and, last of all, in gazing upon the fierce whiskers of an actual live robber.

From that ever-to-he-remembered da.v - that day of horror and tumult - the good citizens have never been able to fall baek into their old habits and customs and peculiarities. It is true, the young men .still play marbles, and the old men still talk polities and go regularly to church ; but then they have other sources of pleasure, and take delight in far dilTerent amusements from what they did in our day.

The march of improvement, an impetus having been given by this robbery, is now onward. New merchants, new tailors, new lawyers, and new divines are now moving in, and the old settlers, forced by necessity, are compelled either to change their musty habits or be driven by public opinion, in disgrace, from their ancient hunting-grounds. The bell at the old tavern, with its famous and well-known landlady, still sticks out for the ancient customs, ringing as it did of yore the summons to meals, at daylight, eleven, and four o'clock; but many of the citizens, smitten with the lazy fashions of modern improvers, disregarding its shrill call, sleep long after that little bell has pealed out its alarum; and many of them have even gone so far as to dine at twelve and sup at dark, and sit up as late as nine, although the majority, I am happy to say, still fall to sleep at the good old hour of seven.

As for the public, or high-days and holidays, the good people of Greenville, wishing, no doubt, to make up for past neglect, now celebrate not only Christmas, the 8th of January, 22d of February, and 4th of July, but throw in some three or more for good count, upon which day-offering they have braying from the brass band and puffing from temperance orators. Had the robbers never bored that "auger-hole," or robbed the Dutchman, they might have continued their thriving to this day; and that little village would have remained enjoying its ancient nap, and never awakened to the fuss, turmoil, and improvements of this changing age. They might have robbed almost any other town, and the robbery would have created no disturbance; but unfortunately, in an evil hour for them, they fell upon this quiet, out-of-the-way place, where the mere boring of an auger-hole shook the entire community to its very foundations, and led, not only to their future overthrow and ruin, but to the happiness (that is, in the e.stimation of the age), prosperity, and final greatne.ss and glory of this hitherto slumbering, but now thoroughly awakened village.

Alas! my ancient home, .you have changed, but I will not say for the better, I remember only thy fpiiet old days, when the hum of the singing insect, and the buzz of the floating bee, was the only and loudest music heard within thy silent borders. I will not think of thee as thou art now. noi.sy with the clattering hammer and shaken by the hoarse belching of steam, but will continue my slumber, forever dreaming that thou art now what thou used to be, my own, still, quiet, peaceful home!

The Old Militia Muster

UP to the year 1850 every man in Kentucky considered himself a soldier, and was so considered in the eyes of the law. Until the Third Constitution was adopted, every male citizen from the age of twenty to forty-five, with a few exceptions, was on the enrolled militia and reported at a mustering place on specified dates and there took part in military drills. Such was the law old V'irginia inherited from England, and it was also the law when Kentucky became a State, and, as before stated, remained a law until 1850. To-day every able-bodied man from eighteen to forty-five years of age is enrolled as a soldier of the United States under compulsion to respond if called upon in time of war. If he does not belong to the regular army or navy, or is not a member of the national guard, he then belongs to the reserve militia.

Previous to about the year 1820 the militia muster was a gathering of citizen-soldiers who met for the purpose of drilling, and all devoted their time while on the muster grounds to military exercises conducted according to military tactics. However, about five years after the second war with England, interest in the military featim?s of the,so gatherings began to decline, and during the second quarter of the century all of the musters were more or less a farce.

The law required all able-bodied men, with a few e.\ccptions, to report for duty at the musters, and imposed a fine for non-attendance. The company musters usually took place in April, June, August, and September; the battalion usually in May, and the regimental in October. In the early days a company consisted of from fifty to one hundred men, including officers; two to four companies constituted a battalion, and two to four battalions formed a regiment. The number of men in these various organizations was governed principally by the extent of the population in the locality.

Among the many places in the county on which companies met to drill were: The courthouse yard, the Russell Old Field, the Andy Craig j>lac.e. Kincheloe's Bluff, Morehead's Field (now Central City), the George Clark place, Thomas Sumner's farm, the Solomon Rhoads farm, the Hunt Old Field, William Bell's, the Vanlandingham Old Place, the Jim Taggart farm, Wyatt Wells', the -Mosley Collins Drake farm, Old Liberty, Mike I»vell's, Ohi Millport, and the Gish Old Field. Up to about 1820 most of the battalion and regimental drills took place in Greenville. After that time the place of rendezvous for the men in the southern part of the county was changed to the Rus.sell Old Field, southeast of Greenville, near what is now Pleasant Hill Church In the meantime regimental musters also took place on tlie Gish Old Field, south of Bremen, and other fields in the northern part of the county. The.se two regiments, it is said, on several oeca.sions drilled together on the Rus.sell Old Field.

Very little doi'umentary data hearing on the early history of the militia in Muhlenberg is now extant, and as far as I am aware none exists pertaining to its later history in the county. An old eommi.ssion, still preserved, shows that William Bradford was among the first local men to serve as a eaptain. Others may have been appointed at the same time, hut none pre- ceded him. He probably later filled other positions in the militia. A photograph of the Bradford commission is here reproiluced. On the back of the original i.s written: "Muhlenberg County, Set. This day came William Bradford before me, a justice of the peace for said county, and made oath as Captain of the Militia company, (liven under my hand this 20th day of February, 1800. Wm. Bell."

Prom a few of the other commissions still preserved I gather the following facts: Charles Fox Wing was "appointed lieutenant in the Twentyfourth regiment of Militia, on August 2, 1709"; Alney McLean was appointed Ensign in the same regiment on the same date; Lewis Kincheloe on September 30, 1800, was "appointed Lieutenant-Colonel commandant of the Fortieth regiment of Militia to 611 the vacancy oeeasioiuHl by the resignation of William Campbell, Esquire." William Bell, on February 9, 1801, was "commissioned Paymaster, with the rank of Lieutenant in the Fortieth regiment." Lewis Reno, on May 24, 1802, was "commissioned Ensign in the Fortieth regiment." Thomas Randolph, on March 22. 1803, was "commissioned Captain in the Fortieth regiment."

A eertiheate of exemption, written on letter paper, reads: "Kentucky. At a court-martial held for the Fortieth Regiment of Militia in the County of Muhlenberg on the 24th day of May, 1802: Ordered, that George Lovelace be and he is hereby exempt from military duty in future for and on account of his having his arm broke. A Copy Test. Charles Fox Wing, Judge Advocate."

Sir: You will have your Company parade at Solomon Rhoads's on the 17th day of May next by ten o'clock in order to hold a Battalion Muster. You will also have your Company parade in like manner at William Bell's on the second day of October next in order to hold a Regimental Muster. The Drill Muster will be held on the last Wednes<luy and Thursday in September next at AVilliam Bell's. The Court of Assessment of 6n(>s will be held also at William Bell's on the last Monday in November.

As already stated, from atmut the year 1825 until the law obliging all men to drill was alwlished, the musters were more or less a farce. The laws regulating the militia of the Commonwealth were amended and changed so often that, as a consequence, they became more complicated than the maneuvei's were unmilitary. Humphrey Marshall, in 1824 ("History of Kentuckj'," Vol. 2, page 14), wrote: "It is in vain to suggest that neither officer nor soldier will ever trouble him.self to know the law, when it may, and probably will, be changed before he has an opportunity of reducing his knowledge to practice." Musters became gatherings in which everybody participated, regardle.ss of age or social position. The men who attended were not so much prompted by a desire to drill, and thus live up to that article of the Constitution, as they were to take advantage of the chance to mingle with the crowd of men, women, and children, renew old friendships, make new ones, hear the news, see the races, trade horses, partake of a good dinner, and incidentally have a good time at "the big to-do."

The military features of these affairs grew insignificant as compared with those of their social, political, and business nature. The ordinary picnic ba.sket was too small for these gatherings. Trunks and boxes paeked with fried chicken, boiled ham, roasted pork, pies and other edibles, with coffee-iHits and whisky-jugs, were brouglit to the place of rendezvous in wagons, and everybody was welcome to their contents. Ounsmiths were in abundance. Since the greater number of people came in wagons or on horseback, there was necessarily a large aggregation of horses, from colts and two-year-olds down to worn-out plow-horses, and from carefully groomed quarter-nags to neglected horses whose tails and manes were filled with burrs. This led to the appearance of blacksmiths, who repaired wagons and shod liorse.s. It ahso resulted in much "horse swapping,' whieli in turn gave occasion for belting and liorse-raeing. The combination led to drinking, and drinking frequently brought on "fist and skull fights" and other disturbances.

In those days, as in the earlier da.vs, every man furnished his own gun - muzzle-loaders of any sort, flintlock rifle.s, muskets, shotgun.s, or hor.se-pi.stols. Those who had no firearms to bring, or who had forgotten them, would enter the drills with a trimmed sa|>ling or a cornstalk - eonsequently the name, the Cornstalk .Militia.

When the captain was ready to order his company into ranks he usually mounted a convenient stump, rail fence, or empty barrel and called out : "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes! All you who belong to Captain So-and-so s company (giving his name) fall into ranks and parade!" The "Oh, yea." it might be well to ndil, is derived from the old Krench "oyez" - "hear ye." Hence the Court of Oyer and Terminer - to hear and to finish. If the captain's first order failed to move his men he would again api>cal to them - "Kver.vhody in my company, off the fence there ami fall into line! Now come on, men, come on, everybody, and let's get started with our rffolutions !" After all, or nearly all, of his company had responded to his call, he ordered " 'Tention, the whole!" after which most men gave him more or less attention. Right or left dress was usually lengthened into the command to "IxM)k to the left and dress!" or right, as the ca.se might be. "Stop!" or "Hold!" was the command for halt. It is also said that although keeping step was a matter of indifference or beyond the control of some of the privates, they were nevertheless permitted to remain in ranks and follow as best they could or would through the drills.

Company, battalion, and regimental drills were conducted on the Russell Old Field from May to Oi-tober. making a total of at leiust six different mufsters on that tract every year. It became a great gathering-place, e.speeially when a Rig .Mu.ster (a battalion or regimental drill) was scheduled. Ilorse-raecs on such occasions wen* then by far the most prominent feature on the program, and they soon became more frauds than the drills were farces. In fact, the Ru.ssell Old Field is even to-day more freipiently referred to ns the Old Russell Race Track than the Old Rus,sell .Muster Field,

The Russell Race Track and muster grounds, like every other historic place in the county, is the subject of many ab.surd tales. One of the.se pertains to the threshing of wheat. In the early times one of the methods the farmer employed to get his wheat out of the chaff was to "tramp" it out. He located a stretch of ground that would pack solid. On this he built a ring fifty to one hundred feet in diameter. After scattering his wheat on tile inner edge of this circle he walked his horse over it and thus trod out the grain. On some farms this was done on the wooden floor of the barn. At an.v rate, the story is told that after the Rus.sell Race Track was finished a certain farmer brought his wheat, stock and all. to the track on a race day and scattered it over the eoiir.se. and that while running the races the horses trod all the grain out of the chaff, thus relieving the raiser of that wheat of any further work except to "rake up the golden grain."

All the traditions regarding this old .Muster Kield teem with romance and comedy except oni- - the killing of Isom Sheffield by Hob denkin.s. This tragedy took jilaee in the fall of 1H42 and during the time the Regulators were hunting down the outlaws. It is said Jenkins was in sympathy with the Regulators and that Sheffield di.sapproved of some of their work. These two men had argued this question on several occasions, and their disagreement soon developed into enmity. Both came to the Big Mii.ster. Jenkins was sitting on a log when Sheflield, who was approaching from the rear, either by accident or intention hit Jenkins with a sumac stick. A few short words had passed between tliem an liour before, and now the provocation for a figlit presented itself. After a short but fierce struggle Sheffield ran away from Jenkins, some say because he feared the many friends of Jenkins who had gathered around, while others declare he ran to get a weapon concealed in his wagon. Jenkins, highly infuriated, followed him with an open knife in his hand. When Jenkins had gotten within a few feet of his antagonist and was ready to make a stab, Sheffield tripped on a root and fell. Jenkins immediately thrust his knife into Sheffield's back, killing him instantly. Jenkins surrendered to the authorities, gave bond, and the following year was acquitted on the plea of self-defense, but some years later was shot from ambush.

After this fatal event the preachers and church people began a campaign against the meetings on the Russell Muster Field. For a year or two the races were discontinued, but soon large and reekle.ss crowds gathered again and things went from bad to worse until 1850, when the militia musters were «liseontinui'd throughout the State.*

James Weir, in his tx)yhood days, .saw the decline of the old militia muster, and in 1850, shortly after he wrote "Ivonz Powers," saw its final fall, lie frequently attended the drills on the Russell Race Track. Observations made there and at Old White Plains in Christian County suggested, it is said, much of what appears in his chapter on the old military muster. Historians generally either refer simjily to the old-time military musters, or in the course of a few words vaguely .suggest what they were. The following satirical description, taken from "Ijonz Powers," is probably the only thing of its kind ever written, and dc.serves to rank among Kentucky classics:

Every nation has a memorable day - a day of .songs and rejoicings. With us the fourth of July, twenty-second of February, and Christmas, are all holidays, or days of joy and pleiusure. But of all the grand days in this martial old Commonwealth of ours, those set apart for militia training are (at least in the estimation of militia captains) the grandest and most exciting. If you should happen within ten miles of a militia mu.ster on one of the.se eventful days, every step you took, and every object that met your gaze, would remind you of war, with its glorious and thrilling panoply, its noise and wild tumult. Boys, ncgroi-s, and men, on fwt and on honseback, in cart, wagon, and carriage, single, double, and treble, arc crowding fnuii every direction and hurrying with anxious speed toward the scene where mimic battles are to be fought and won. Old shotguns, rusty rirtes, long-tintried fowling-pieces, cornstalks, and hickory sticks are in great demand, while the Sunday fineries, drawn from their st-cret hiding-places, adorn the martial forms of their proud-treading owners. Cider-wagons, ginger-eake.s, apples, whisky, and all the other et ceteras of the camp, are rushing pellmell into the place of rendezvous. Arriving at the parade field.

' The Russell tract was first settled by John C. Russell, who moved on It about the year 180.^ and remained there until 1820. After he moved to Todd County his level fields and abandoned houses were used for mustering purposes for many years. John C. Russell represented the county In the Legislature from 1807 to 1809. He was a liberal and kind-hearted man. His farm, in Its day. was one of the best equipped in the county. No traces of hla large log residence can now be seen. Kveu the ruins of the old stone milk-house have almost disappeared.

your ears are greeted with every imaginable noise - the squealing of pigs, neighing of chargers, barking of dogs, braying of as.ses. laughing of happy negroes, and hoarse commands of military chieftains being mingled together in the most harmonious concord of discord. Jingling spurs, rusty sabers, black cockades, and the fierce little red plume, everywhere meet your wandering eye and fill up the interstices of this moving, animated scene.

Such an exhibition of warlike enthusiasm might have been seen, if you had only b(>en present, dear reader, at Pleasant drove, on the morning aher the night described in our last chapter, .\oise and wild confusion were the order of the day. The thrilling fife and a cracked drum were pealing forth their stirring notes, and calling loudl.v upon the brave sons of old Kentucky to shoulder their arms and sustain tlie glory of their ancestors. Generals, colonels, majors, captains (we have no lack of titled gentry in Kentucky), and privates were mingled together in a confused ma.s.s, talking, laughing, shouting, swearing, drinking, and every now and then taking a pleasant knock-down, merel.v to vary the bill of entertainment, keep up the excitement, and cultivate a proper military ardour. Candidates were there, too (like all other aspirants for office), shaking hands, treating, speaking, and making known to the warlike as.sembly the past, present, and future (they were no prophets, merely reasoning from cause to effect) glory and renown of Kentucky and her gallant sons. Horse-racing, cock-fighting, rifle-shooting, wrestling, and boxing, upon this occasion, all had their votaries, and all were busily engaged in their respective amusements. Bal)cl, in her palm- lest day, was a mere "tempest in a teapot" compared with a militia muster in the backwoods of Kentucky. The Carnival at Rome or the ancient Saturnalia of the Romans, in the very height of their revelling, would be tame and insipid when placed in juxtaposition with sueh an occasion. We know of nothing that can be compared, for noise and wild confusion, with a regiment of lioisterous, merry, reckless militia, along with their chivalrous leaders, adorned with flowing red sash, bullet-button coats, tin-foil epaulets, and stiff, ragged, red plumes, ju.st preceding or succeeding "the training."

But suddenly a great change comes over the moving, tossing mass gathered on the battlefield at Pleasant Grove. Some order (a devili.sh little, bythe-by, if it can be called order at all) takes the place of the late disorder, and a comparative calm - in a figurative sense - settles down upon this raging storm. The commanding officer of the day, stri]>ping his saddle of its red girth, belts on his trusty, trenchant blade, dons his swallow-tailed blue, adorned with bullet-buttons and red tape, borrows the best charger he can find, scrambles on his back with the assistance of a stump or a kind hand, and, when once safely moored, waves his plumed beaver around bis warlike head, and shouts his orders to parade. Now comes a busy, stirring, wild, and moving panorama. Men. before ignoble and unknown from the common herd, draw from their bosoms, pockets, and hats the red plume and sash (that is, if they are so lucky as to have any), and soon become the leaders and chieftains of the da.v. A fierce struggle now commences who shall get their companies first formed into a line, or who shall first gain a preiunption right to the shade of a tree, under which to marshal and form. Although each company has, or rather has had at some former time, a captain and inferior officers (for the.v often assemble on parade-ground without any), in reality every man in the corps, being fully competent to command, takes the responsibility of giving orders.

It may be thought an easy matter b.v the inexperienced to form a company of men into a straight line; but if it is so, our militia captains have never discovered that fact. They commence at one end of the winding line, and with threats, entreaties, and much trouble get a tolerably fair and straight row, especially if there be any eorn-ridges in the immediate ncighiKirliofal, but. unfortunately, before they reach the other extreme, their soldiers having a predisposition for Mahometanism, are generally in a cre.scent, and then they are compelled to begin afre.sh. And tlius we have seen them go on for hours and hours, and at last end their lalsjurs, not being in miieh better array or condition than at the beginning of their arduous and impossible undertaking. Tall, low. long, short, thin, and fat. old and young, men and laiys, clothed with fur and wool hats, caps, and no bats at all; cloth coals and jeans, calico and linsey, and no coats at all ; boot.s, shoes, and moccasin.s, an<l no shoes at all; new and old pants, white, black, and striped, and no pants at all: shirts ruffled and unruffhsl. white, black, green, and gray, cotton, linen, and calico, and no shirts at all - are all mingled together in the most beautiful and checkered confusion, giving a motley and ludicrous appearance to the ununiformed, straggling, and crooked cori>s.

The officers are generally the most silly and ignorant men of the community. for none but such will seek a command in so farcical a concern as a militia company; and most frcipn-ntly elected, as the saying is, unanimously. for they are considered most "unanimous fools." an<l no one will vote either for or against them. As for a knowledge of militar.v tactics, they never dream of an.v .such a thing. They are unable (with a few exceptions. of course I to form even a straight line, unless tbe,v have the assistance of a ditch or a corn-row, and as for giving any other orders save ''Aiwut face!" (to which they add "right!") "March!" it is a thing not only unknown but unheard of. Those who can read are accustomed to carry "Scott's Tactics" in their pockets, from which they read out the different commands or manteuvres, hut as for knowing what is then to he done, after spelling through the various movements, they don't think of such a thing, for it is none of their business. They are placed there to give the orders, and it is the duty of the company to obey; and if they fail to do .so, then it

The Mosley Collins Drake House, Long Creek Country

We know of but one real, genuine, whole-souled, praiseworthy militia captain, and he has now left the country and moved to Arkansas. lie was a glorious, jolly fellow, that old captain of ours, and if ever a military leader deserved a monument of brass, he was that one; and we will give a ten at any time we are called on towards bestowing that honour to his memory. He was, during his soldiering life, the most popular chieftain of the age - always excepting Old Hickory and his sons, the young Hickories - and we will venture to say his company was the most numerous ami wellattended of the regiment, so long as he was permitted to drill under his own laws and in his own spirited way.

His mode of operating (and we make it known for the benefit of martial spirits) was to form his corps as near into a straight line as i>osaible; but he only attempted this difficult mameuvre once a day, and that very early in the morning, for after that, not even with the as.sistauce of a fence or ditch could he keep them eitlier perpendicular or rectilinear. Then marching at the head of his brave companions, he opened with a vigorous pursuit of the enemy, and at a suitable and convenient spot, made known to him hy his spy (for he always threw out an advance guard), he generally discovered the foe, disguised and changed by the fairies into a half dozen blue or red (most fre«|uently red) pails, and well filled with mint julep, a ladle in each (a trick of the enemy to induce a charge) and commanded by that old bruiser and man-overthrower John Barleycorn, always ready and willing (like Wellington at Waterloo) to be attacked. There is no shrinking or giving back in John, and, like Old Zaek, the word retreat is unknown in his tactics, let the enemy be ever so fierce and numerous.

Our gallant captain was one of the same sort, a real JIurat for <laring charges; and, forming his men into platoons of six - for he scorned to take advantage of his superior number - led them manfully to the contest, full upon the battery of the foe, although ready to pour out destruction upon himself and followers. "Make ready!" was his hoarse command, and down went the dippers; "Take aim !" and up they came, on a level with the mouth; "F'ire!" and away goes the liquid stream, not of fire, but of firewater, down the thirsty throats of his soldiers. "Next platoon, march!" (there was no pricking of bayonets to urge them on); ".Make ready, take aim, fire!" and thus each individual of the band had an opportunity to display his nerve and steadiness under a point-blank shot from the stublmrn foe. Nor was our noble captain content with battling this little sipiad of the enemy, for, like a true hero that he was, he allowed the foe to send after fresh ammunition, and bring up the reserve, .s(|uad after squad, and still continue the fight, showing no quarter and a.sking none, until he alone of all that gallant corps is left sluniliiig to face the "red coat.s." "1 .see them on their winding way," was the favourite air of this fighting band of heroes, and many a battle have they fought with the "Britishers," as the rial pails were called, when spirited on by this g<K)d old tune.

The followers of the captain, unlike other militia, were far more steady when going into the fra.v than when coming out. Wo remember ,vou well, most jovial son of Mars, and wherever you may now be, and whatever may be your fate, we will never cease to give yon honor, although you were a militia captain. We have fought and have been defeated umlcr your banner, but never disgraced, for, like comiuerors, we alwa.vs slept upon the field of battle and close around the battery of the enemy.

The martial farce is now over; the red plumes liave vanislusl, the bulletbuttons are numbered among the things "that were," and bright sabers no longer glitter in the sunbeams. The.v who but a moment since lorded it over their fellow-men, dubbed ns generals, colonel.s, majors, and captains, and as grandly and gloriously as Napoleon and his marshals, or the Grand Turk and his pachas, are now but common citizen.s, without command, and no longer in authority; and (what is still worse for them) liable at any moment to be soundly thrashed b,v an,^- of the sovereigns they may have been so unfortunate a.s to insult during the drill! - a privilege not unfre(iucntly enforced, very much to the discomfort of the gallant commanders.

The soul-inspiring drum ami fife have ceased, and the old forest no longer echoes back the martial roll. Boys, negrcM's and stragglers, wanting the excitement of military music, and glutted with warlike pageantry, arc now making hasty preparations for departure. Cider-barrels and cake-baskets are empt.v ; and tlieir hapi)v owners and venders, shaking their swelling purses, go on their way rejoicing. All are now gone, or preparing to leave, save those brave spirits who intend to sleep upon the field and upon their arms, for the very simple reason that they have fallen victims to Bacchus and are unable to leave.

And such is a militia muster - a great, grand, sometimes laughable but always silly farce, and not only tolerated, but legalized and even commanded by our laws. Yet do we suffer, and, like good citizens, obey - three times annually leaving our labour and business to undergo this most absurd of all absurdities, a "militia training.''

The Story Of The Stack

The ruins of tlie old Buekiitr Furnace, known as "The Stack," form one of the most desolate, yet interesting landmarks in the county. As far as 1 am aware, nothing, .save one paragraph in the First Kentucky Geological Survey, has ever been written on the history of this once flourishing place. The deed Imoks in the county clerk's office record the dates of land transfers, but reveal none of the romances and tragedies that make up the Story of The Stack. Members of the younger generation - many, at least, of those with whom 1 have come in contact - simply know the remains of the Buckner Furnace as "The Stack," the "Old Furnace," or the " Penn.sylvania Furnace," and that Oeneral Simon Bolivar Buckner had been in some way connected with the old iron works. Collins in his 1847 edition refers to it as the "Henry Clay Iron Works." So the old people were the only ones from whom I could gather any information, and they frequently disagreed on very important points. The Stack, I find, wjis erectetl in 1,837 and was operated only a few years. The few men and women now living who saw the place when it was running were all too young to rememlM-r their visits; some of them, nevertheless, are well versed in the traditions of the old Furnace.

One young man, who might have learned something of the history of The Stack from his grandparents, unaware of bis ignorance regarding local and national history, "informed" me that The Stack was built by General Buckner during tbe Me.viean War, and n few years later, when the American Revolution broke out. General Buckner furnisbed Washington and Andrew Jackson with guns and swords with which to whip the French and British; that if General Buckner had not been prepared to supply the iron from The Stack for the making of American cannon, and if saltpeter had not been discovered in Mammoth Cave about this time, England would have won the fight and helped Jeff Davis defeat the North! All of which, if not history, is at least interesting.

The land on which The Stack stands was for a long time owned by a company of capitalists, and is therefore frequently referred to as "the Company land." However, the .same young man insists that this title originated from the fact that many of the people living on this tract of land in olden times had "a heap of company."

Another rural philologist, pointing mit a piece of pig iron made at The Stack three quarters of a century ago, "informed" me that his grandfather said that this pig iron is so called because on "hog-killing" days General Buckner heated these chunks of iron and then threw them into barrels of water in order to bring the water to a temperature sufflcient to scald the skin of the hogs, preparatory to scraping off the hair. This process of heating water for cleaning hogs is as old as the hills, the onl.v difference being that ordinary rocks are almost invariably used instead of pig iron.

The Stack As It Appeabeo In 1906

It seems that about the year lb33 one William Miller, of Massachusetts, claimed to have received a revelation (written on some hen eggs he found in a hollow stump) to the effect that the destruction of the world would take place in 1843. He preached this doctrine throughout the I'nitcd States, and had a few followers in Muhlenberg County. When, in 1842, the Furnace was abandoned. Miller's converts declared Buckner closed down his iron works because he did not want to he running a hot furnace on Judgment Day. Those who did not know why operations were discontinued immediately drew the conclusion tliat Buckner had become a Jlillerite. The absurd story thus started is still heard in a few of the local traditions.

Such confusion of the details of national history of which there is a written record, and the telling of such ridiculous tales as these I have just cited, are to be expected, and they .serve to show that many statements regarding old places, like many reports regarding current events, are not only false but often absurd, and that "investigation brings out the truth."

At any rate, the discovery of the extensive deposits of surface iron ore in southern Muhlenherg County promi)ted Aylette II. Buckner (the father of Oenoral Buckner) and Cadwalader Churchill to organize a company for the purpo.se of working this ore. In 1837 they erected a furnace near the junction of Bond Creek anil Salt Dick Creek, five miles south of Greenville, and before the close of the following year the iron works were put in operation. The Stack was built at the foot of a hill, and a level gangwaj was placed from the top of the hill to the top of the furnace, where there was a charging platform over the opening through which the ore was fed. The Stack was a doidile wall of local sandstone, hooped with six iron bands, the whole forming one ma.ssive tower al)out eighty feet high, forty feet wide at the base, and twenty-live feet across at the top.i

Alfred Johnson, Garland Craig, and Thomas Welhorn, Muhlenberg's best stone-masons, with the help of othera, did the stone work. They must have been masters of their craft, for in spite of the fact that some of the iron bands were removed about the year 1875 and that twenty years later two vandals dynamited it for the pm-pose of taking the heavy iron bars used to support the four arches, the walls stood for seventy years. It was the irreparable damage done by the two old-iron gatherers that, on January 14, 1907, oa\iscd the final collapse of the old landmark, which is now nothing more than a heap of dressed rock.

The Stack and its wooden gangway were by no means the only structtires er»'cted by Buckner and Churchill. They also put up a .substantial two-story log hou.se of ten rooms, used as a residence, ofliee, and store by the Buckners. It is said that three yoke of oxen were required to transfer Buckner's private library frotn Hart ('onnty to this place. The Buckner house was the largest structure of its kind in the county. It was about one hundred and fifty feet long, eon.structed of hewed logs, had good glass windows, and floors of sawed lumber. There were three large chimneys and a dozen open fire-places. The building contained a spacious dining room, used by some of the white employes. In an adjoining room, known ns "the

- The first Iron furnace In Kentucky was the Bourbon Furnace, built In Bath County In 1791. Iron ore was not discovered In Western Kentucky until about a quarter of a century later. A few years previous to 1837 iron ore had been found in Trigg, Lyon, Hart, and I.ivingston counties and near Mud River, and was being worked at a number of furnaces when Buckner and Churchill began The Stack. It was at Eddyville, Lyon County, that William Kelly, in 1851. discovered the socalled Bessemer process, which entirely revolutionized the steel industry.

store," goods were kept for the convenienee of the people connected with the Furnace and for the purpose of exchanging merchandise with farmers for produce. Opposite the south end of the log house, and built in the hillside, was the stone milk-house, through which there con.stantly ran a stream of spring water.

Not far from The Stack stood a grist mill, to which corn was brought by the farmers, who gave one sixth of their meal for the grinding This mill, used later as a tobacco barn by Hen Mitchell and others, was burned to the ground about 1870, with a large crop of Yellow Pryor in it. .Many of the white miners and wood-choppers and the forty slaves oceupied log cabins north of The Stack, hut all traces of their (juarters have now di.sappeared. In fact the large pile of ro<-k that now marks the site of the Furnace, a few pieces of slag, the ruins of the milk-house, two half-huried corn burrs, two half-filled wells, and a few small mounds where chimneys once stood - all more or le.ss hidden in a jungle of hushes or secoml-growth timber - are the only evidences of the great work that flourished around The Staek a few years before and after 1840.

As already stated, the discovery of iron ore in -Muhlenberg County prompted Huckner and Churchill to oi-ganize a company to develop this mineral. Investigation revealed the fact that there was not only sufficient surface ore to justify the building of a furnace, hut that there also existed enough good ore below the surface to supply them for a century or more. The furnace they built was m operation about four years, during which time various proeesses were experimented with. Besides making a great quantity of pig iron they also manufactured a number of iron utensils, among them kettles without legs or "ears," ovens, shovels, tongs, and andirons or dog-irons, some of which can still be found in the county.

The pair of dog-irons of which a picture is here given were made at the Buckner Furnace almut the year 1840. Notwithstanding the fact that they were used during cold weather for seventy years, they are for all practical purposes a-s good now as the day they were cast. The part which supports the log of wood is in one solid piece, about fifteen inches long hy four inches high and an half-inch thick. The base is kept in an upright position by a winglike pedestal which spreads out in front. The upright, which keeps the forestick from rolling off on the hearth, is twelve inches high and is a representation of the head of some animal of uncertain identity. It resembles somewhat the head of a camel on the neck of a goose.

Many pairs of dog-irons of this type were made at The Stack, but tradition does not tell who designed them. The designer, if we apply the F. C. Morse theory, evidently was not a "Campbellite"; for Morse, in a book on "Furniture of the Olden Times," says that immediately after the Revolution andirons known as "Hessians," in which the upright was the figure of a Hessian soldier, were very popular, and that "the figures of the hated al- lies of the British thus received the treatment with flame and ashes that Americans considered the originals to merit, to say nothing of worse indignities cast upon them by the circle of tobacco-using patriots."

The dwellers in the Buckner colony lived on the best the country then afforded. They not only used the produce and meal furnished by the neighboring farmers, but also supplied themselves with game, fish, and forest fruits. In those days fish were plentiful in Pond Creek.* Deer were so numerous and so destructive to crops that many farmers were obliged to guard their cornfields to keep the dc-er ftom trampling down the growing plants. Raising beans was almost an impossibility, for the deer loved sprouting beans better than some of us like venison. Turkeys were in abundance, and wild pigeons were more plentiful than sparrows are now. 'Coon and 'po.ssum hunting was on the program nearly every night in the fall.

A story is told of a certain Scotchman who. shortly after arriving from his native land, procured a position at the Furnace and one day shot some turkey buzzards while wandering around in Pond Creek Ijottom, mi.staking them for a bird he had eaten in Scotland. With these he prepared a surprise dinner for his friends. All enjoyed the meal very much until the

- Pond Creek Is the longest creek within the bounds of Muhlenberg County. It rises In the Friendship Neighborhood, near the church, and flows into Green River near Paradise.

"Scotch fowl" was indulged in. Many commented on the peculiar flavor of the meat, but, fearing they might offend their host by declining to eat abundantly of his much-prized dish, they partook freely. They begged to know more about this peculiar "Scotch fow'l." After some persuasion he proudly told them where and how he had captured this most palatable of birds. The guests threw up their hands in horror. They not only refused to continue the meal, hut even declined to keep what they had already accepted !

Much of the salt used by the Furnace people was procured from Deer Lick or Salt Wells, or Salt Lick ('reek, about one mile alaive The Stack, where common salf was made b.v the evaporating process from the waters of a small spring. It was a well-known lick even hefore the days of the Buckners, and for nian.v years supiilied the immediate neighborhood with this e.sscntial. Alamt the .vear I8.0;'), so runs the stor.v, .some men, thinking a stronger solution of salt could be found here, dug three wells near the lick. But the water from the wells proved to he no stronger than that coming from tile spring. This was a disappointment to the investigators. Salt water was then boiled and cvaiioratcd for a number of days, and the salt thus obtained thrown hack into the wells; a flrcenville capitalist was then invited to inspect the new "gold mine." He made a ha.sty inspection and analysis of the water, hoiight the farm, and some time later learned that there is such a thing as "salting" a .salt well.

The Furnace folks spent some of their leisure time on the hill west of The Stack, on the old Indian burying-groiinds. Some of the picnic parties that spend a day around or near the ruins of The Stack climb (his hill and view what is now left of the seven mounds that once .stwid there. It is a joke among some of the neighliorhood boys to tell the newcomer that if he wishes to know why thc.se Indians were killed he need but stand on any of the mouml.s and .solemnly cry out, "Isi, pmir Indian, for what did the white man kill you?" Not hearing a response, the newcomer is urged to ask the question again. He linally discovers that "Nothing" is the answer.

Louis (ireenway was one of the many interesting characters around the Furnace. He made a wager he could lead a certain blind borse over the trestle to the top of The Stack and then safel.v back him off again, "with ten drinks in him." Tradition does not .say whether "in him" had reference to the man or to the horse. At any rate, it was successfully done.

.Shoemaker was the name of the oflicial shoemaker. He exchanged shoes for untanned cowhides. His dealings with his patrons were anything hut .satisfactory to them, so one day they all joined in and gave him a "cowhide." He has not heeii heard from sini'c. It was rumored that he 'joined Ixmz Bennington, the outlaw, who was maneuvering in this part of the State at that time. The only thing .Shoemaker left behind was a large trough, made from the trunk of an oak tree, and prepared by himself to be used as his coffin. After his departure his intended coffin was used as a feeding trough in a pig-pen.

Many of the men and women connected with The Stack attended church very regularly. .Some went to (ireenville, while others worshiped with the members of the then newly organizeil Friendship congregation. Friend- ship Baptist Church, two miles northwest of The Stack, was then and still is located in what is very appropriately called the Friendship Nciifhliorhood. This congreftation was organized in the old Hickory Withe Sch<s)lhouse a few years before The Stack was built. In 1837 its members put up a log hoiise on land donated by Charles Metzker. The third (the present) building was erected in 1893. The hurying-ground adjoining was .started in 1883, and is now one of the best -kept country graveyards in the county. In it are buried a number of men and women who in their youth saw the Buckner Furnace in operation. One of Friendship's best-known preachers was the lii'vcrcnd William Dodd Pannell, who was born in Todd County in 1824, came to Friendship alxnit 18,'ir). and died on his farm, near the church, in 1877. He wius the father of -lames P., Thomas B., and Frank B; Pannell.

There is a variety of stories told regarding the negro I.saac, who was hanged Friday, -July 6, 1838, for attemptiug to kill Buckner. Some say Buckner had treated him shamefully by starving him and r»"fusiug to let him wear shoes, but such statements can not possibly be founded on facts, for Buckner was a tall and portly man, with the reputation of having a lieart as kind as he was large. At any rate it was rumored among the slaves that ( 'hurchill was willing to abandon the Furnace, and would have done so had Buckner agreed to it. Lsaae belonged to the Churchills, who then lived in Elizabethtown, and b(>ing di.ssatistied with his surroundings came to the conclusion that if he kilted Buckner then Churchill would desert the Furnace and he would be allowed to return to his master's home. Supported by this simple logic, the negro proceeded to carry out his plan. He approached Buckner with an ax, and without a word of warning began striking him in the face. Buckner was rescued by some men who happene<i on the scene, but not until he had fallen uneonsfdous to the gnniml with two long gashes in his face, the scars of which never disappeared. In the confusion that followed the negro made his escape, and had fled to a point on the Russellville road, a little north of what is now Diinmor, when he was discovered by the Crabel boys, who found the exhausted slave sleeping alongside a log. N'of knowing of his bloody deed they were about to release him, when Robert .laekson appeared and recognized him as the negro who had tried to assassinate Buckner. He was sent to Greenville, tried by the court, and .sentenced to death. While confined in jail he was frequently visited by Mrs. Churchill, who read religious books to bim and also helped him in his prayers.

On the morning of the hanging Isaac was taken from his cell, put on a wagon, where his coffin served as a seat, and was thus driven to the edge of the woods, about half a mile south of Greenville. He was hanged between two poplar trees, and the same wagon and coffin on which he rode to his execution were used as the platform and trap of his gallows. He stood erect on his coffin with a suspended rope around his neck. The horses pulled the wagon forward, Isaac fell, and a few minutes later was prepared for burial.

Upon presentation of a certificate of death, signed by the sheriff. (Thurchill received the sum of one thousand dollars from the State as compensation for his executed slave.®