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The good women of the early pioneer days were very dextrous in the use of the spinning wheel and loom. Oftentimes a pair of pants would be produced from the wool on the back of the sheep in 24 hours time.
It was more difficult to make the shoes than to make the clothing. The hide from the steer must first be tanned, rubbed, cut out, then put together. The shoes as well as the clothing, were rough, and not very sightly, yet they possessed the lasting qualities.
The bread of the early settler was made from corn chiefly, occasionally biscuit was made, as an "extra" on Sunday.
The primitive mill was a cavity made in a stump by burning, then scraping it clean. The shelled corn was placed in this. A pestle attached to a bending pole, which did the grinding or mashing. This made rough meal but was-the best they could do as there were no mills nearer than Kaskaskia, fifty miles away.
The corn dough was placed in an oven skillet, where it was baked before the fire, or sometimes it was put on a board and baked before the hot fire. This kind of bread was called "Johnnie Cake." This rough corn bread and venison was the chief diet of our forefathers in this county, and yet not many cases of indigestion or appendicitis were ever heard of in those early days.
There were no stoves on which to cook their food. A skillet with lid, and a pot in which to boil their meat or porridge was the outfit for cooking, save cooking by roasting, in ashes or broiling over the fire.
The pioneer began to produce wheat, and wheat bread became common in the course of time.
Wheat growing in an early day was on a small scale only a few acres were sown to wheat. This wheat was cut by a reap hook. A kind of curved blade for cutting a small bunch of wheat at a stroke. The wheat was tied up in sheaves then horses were used to thresh out the grains by constantly tread-

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ing upon it. The chaff, straw, wheat and some dirt were shoveled up and fanned till the wheat was clean. Then the wheat was sacked and thrown across a horse, and so to the mill they would go.
The early mills for grinding wheat or corn were burr horse mills, the power furnished by a horse or horses.
Oftentimes the mill boy would be compelled to wait his turn, and frequently would stay a day or two before he could get his grinding.
The next kind of mill in the process of development was the water mill. The first water mill built in Franklin County, was in 1834 near Macedonia, on Middle Fork Creek, by Jacob Phillips the founder of the Phillips family in the county. A water mill was built on Big Muddy at the Hillen's Ford about 1838 and later one was built on Middle Fork about 5 miles east of Benton 1842 by John Ewing. There is some evidence of these early mills left to be seen to this day.
The first steam mill in the county was built by Augustus Adams on the Hickman branch near Benton in 1850.
The primitive methods of producing wheat and grinding same caused wheat bread to be a rare thing, almost a luxury. Biscuit once a week, (on Sunday), was the limitation put on wheat bread. But when the binder and steam thresher were invented wheat growing in the county was the most important part of their agriculture, then biscuit came once every day and finally three times a day if wanted, until recently, when another limitation is placed on wheat bread due to the effects of the war.
The pioneers of this county began farming on a small scale. They brought with them horses and cattle and later introduced sheep. The hogs were found here in the wild state, from which we domesticated and bred up to our present stock of hogs.
Cattle were used to draw the wagons and plows. The cattle, sheep and hogs would run on the range. The fields

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were fenced with a zigzag rail fence about 8 or 9 rails high including the ground pole and sometimes the fence would have stakes and riders. The range cattle and sheep were given a mark by cutting the ear in a certain shape or figure so that the owner could identify them wherever they were found. This mark was registered with the county clerk at a cost of 12 1/2 cents. By this system of identification the pioneers could get together their stock when shelter for the winter had to be provided. Doubtless, there are many citizens of the county who well remember gathering up the sheep and cattle off the wild range and identifying them by the mark on their ear.
The branding system was never used in this county to any extent. Cattle often were afflicted with the disease called "Black tongue" or "Milk sick."
The horse has been the beast of burden largely in the county. He was hitched to the plow with very crude and primitive harness. The horse collar was made by stuffing corn shucks and straw into a long bag. This was thrown across the horse's neck for a collar. The hames were home made. They were made by splitting a slab off of a tree which extended down the curve of the root. The root of the tree made the curve in the hames. The plow handles were made in the same way, also a wooden plow mould was made in the same manner.
If the harness got out of repair the ever-ready jack knife was used in procuring hickory bark to mend the broken parts. Hickory bark was ever the pioneer's friend.
Sugar and salt were two articles of food needed by the hardy pioneer which was very difficult to get. It was many miles to New Orleans, the sugar market. Maple sugar was made by boiling the sap of the maple into a syrup and then to a sugar.
Sorghum molasses was used as a substitute for sugar in many ways. Sugar was sent by boats to Shawneetown, Kaskaskia or St. Louis then hauled out to the consumer.

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Ladies and gentlemen : I confess that I stand before you tonight feeling considerably more embarrassment than I usually experience, and that embarrassment is greatly heightened by the reflection that nothing could be more dissimilar than the education, dress and manners of audience, and the rough but big hearted pioneers with whom my earlier years were passed, and of whose experience I propose to speak. Permit me, at the outset, to say that I am here by the special request of the president of the Franklin County Literary Society, and that I am very sure that I cannot, in the limited time I will occupy, by any means speak fully on all the topics mentioned in the announcement of this address in your local paper. I will give you my own experiences AND observations, and by those you may get a very tolerable idea of the troubles that attended that hardy race of men and women who came here in my day; and you may, also, learn something of the trials of all the first settlers in a new country.
I was born in North Carolina on the 24th day of October, 1795. When but an infant, my parents moved to South Carolina, in what was called the Newberry district. We remained there until 1811 or 1812. To that place cling my first recollections, and there my youthful mind received its first impressions. When I first knew my father he was, as matters then went, well off, and was deputy sheriff of the Newberry district.
He was a very generous man and could not refuse his friends such favors as they might ask. He went their securi

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ties, generally, and as the result, he was broken up. Somewhat disheartened, he sold out, with a view of going to Louisiana. My mother did not want to go there, and finally after much entreaty, prevailed on him to go back to North Carolina. In 1815, my father died, leaving a widow and eight children, and I the eldest. I never knew what became of the estate:
In 1819, I left the state. These facts will give you an idea of the chances I had for an education. We had no free schools then, and but little interest was felt upon the subject of education. It was supposed to be the duty of every man to educate his own children, and the general impression seemed to prevail that it was entirely superfluous to educate the children of the poorer classes to any degree whatever. My own education in schools, during life, only amounted to three months, and that time was devoted to the old Dillworth spelling book. After my father's death I worked for my mother and sisters. The first year I worked for wages, and for the entire year's labor received $100.00, and during that time I only lost three days after deducting half Saturdays that I walked home, ten miles. This $100.00 went to the support of my mother's family, which with the labor of my brother, Thos. Parrish, who recently died in Jackson County, Illinois, and that of the other children, made them a living. After working that year for the $100.00 I bought my mother a small farm in Lincoln County, N. C., and settled her and the children upon it. The next two years I worked for shares of crop, all of which went to the support of my mother and family. I left my crop on the field the last year for them, and hired to a man for $7.00 per month, to drive a team from North Carolina to Boone's Lick in Missouri, as I desired to see the country and do what I could for myself. When we got to Reedieville, near Stone River in Tennessee, the winter set in very hard, and the family concluded to remain there all winter. My employer paid me off. I bought what was then called a wallet, being a piece of cloth sewed up with an opening in the center like saddle bags. In

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this wallet I placed what little extra clothing I had, and with but very little money started with my wallet on my shoulder afoot for Boone's Lick, my original destination. As I walked along, the reflection came upon me, that here I was a young man, twenty-four years of age, with the whole world before me in which to make a living, my mother and children comfortably situated, while the old man, my late employer, with a large family of girls, and very short of means, was encamped in a strange country, exposed to the hardships and rigor of a long winter. So strong did my sympathies work upon me, that, after an hour's walk I turned about and went back to the old man and voluntarily gave him all the money I had except $5.00. The old man shed tears from the depth of his gratitude, and I felt that indeed "it is more blessed to give than to receive." I then went down Stone River, about three miles, and got employment at a sawmill for the winter. It had an old fashioned water mill with an upright saw. The next summer I worked in the vicinity for a carpenter named John Farr, and received in payment for the summer's work a horse. That fall, after getting the horse, I set in to work at the still-house of Joseph Ballow near Reedieville. Then we did not think it any harm to make liquor and drink it too, in moderate quantities, and nobody drank to excess in those days, but we did not make such poison as they manufacture nowadays. During the fall of 1820, while at work at the still house, Margaret Knox, a young widow, and sister-in-law of my employer, came from Franklin County, Illinois, to visit him, in company with her father, John Thompson, and, strange to tell, we, that winter, got bewitched with one another, and on May 12th, 1821, were married. I had no property in the world but a change of clothing and a horse, saddle and bridle, and what little effects she had were back in Franklin County, Illinois, For the reasons then that her father, mother, relatives and property were here, she wanted to come to Illinois. I had seen the constitution of the state, and being disgusted with

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slavery, I wanted a home in a free state, and consented to move here.
I came to this county on horse back, and hunted over the entire territory which now composes the counties of Franklin and Williamson, to find some sort of a carriage to take back to bring my wife here, but I could find nothing less than a four-horse wagon. I had no team to take such a vehicle, and if I had, we had nothing back there to haul in it. So I put a saddle and bridle on a horse which my wife had here and led it back to where I left her. We packed up what goods we had, put them and two little boys that my wife had by a former husband, on the two horses. My wife and I walked and led the horses, thus burdened, every foot of the way to Illinois.
I was a recent convert to religion, but had no bible. I inquired of my wife if they had any bibles in Illinois. She said no. Coming through Nashville, Tenn., on our way here, I saw the sign of a book store. I thought I would go in there, but said to my wife, there was no use, as I had no money to spare to buy one. She said "go in and price them," which I did. The cheapest one was $2.50, such a one as you could now get for 25c. I was afraid to buy it for fear our money would give out. She said "Buy it and trust to providence for means to get to Illinois." We would not have had money to get there, but for the fact that on the other side of the Ohio River we were overtaken by a man named Heath, an entire stranger. From his conversation I soon learned that he was a recent professor of religion, also, and strong in the cause of his Master.
When we came to part he insisted that we should go with him and rest a day or two; that the Lord had blessed him with plenty, and he wanted us to go and share it. We went with him, as he lived only a short distance from our direct route; remained with him three days and nights, and when we got ready to leave, he filled our wallets with bread, meat and honey, and came with us to the river and paid our ferryage across the Ohio to the Illinois shore. When we left I thought very

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strongly of my wife's remark in Nashville to "buy the bible and trust to providence." When we got as far as the neighborhood of Alexander McCreery in this county, we met McCreery in the road. He was well acquainted with my wife and she introduced me to him as her husband. I then had my bible under my arm. McCreery asked me many questions as to my future intentions. McCreery was then for the country, a rich man, but was something of a scoffer of religion and religious people. A short time after, McCreery, in going through the neighborhood collecting his interest, etc., said he had met a poor devil coming into this country to make a living with a bible under his arm, and he thought he had better have a grubbing hoe on his shoulder. The remark soon came to my wife's ears and she was much exercised about it, but I pacified her by telling her that that was a very natural conclusion for a worldly minded man to come to. When I arrived here I had but 18 3/4 cents in money. It troubled me to know how to dispose of it to the best advantage, more than any money has ever troubled me since. We settled about six miles east of where Benton now is, in the winter of 1821-2; went right into the woods and cut logs and hauled them upon what was then called a "lizard," a kind of dray made out of the forms of a tree. After getting the logs dragged up, the next thing was to get them put up. We invited in the whole neighborhood, far and near, and got the services of six women and four men. The men kept up the corners and the women lifted the logs up to them, and we did an admirable job. We put the walls cabin fashion, weighted down the clapboard roof with poles, cut openings for door and fireplace, all in one day. The next day we moved into it, on the frozen earth among the chips and snow. Soon raised a wooden chimney daubed with mud, as high as the mantel piece. We split trees and made puncheons for a floor, laid it down and then we felt pretty comfortable. My wife says: "Now I can spin on this floor," and by the light of the fireplace, I took the cards and she the

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wheel and we soon had three cuts of cotton yarn spun. We then had prayer, and in that rude structure, erected in the woods, surrounded by howling wolves and panthers, we went to bed, slept soundly and were supremely happy, such happiness as comes to but few of us in a lifetime. After this we built the chimney out with sticks and mud, and daubed the cracks of the cabin. My wife carrying me all the mixed mud for that purpose. While we were working it, it snowed so hard that I could hardly see her to the clay hole. I wanted to quit, but she said no, and we finished it that night. We made a door shutter out of clapboards, fastening them on with wooden pins, as nails were not then to be had nearer than sixty miles. We made a table out of slabs split from a walnut tree. Our bedstead was nothing more than a platform made on forked sticks, and all our furniture and utensils were of a like rude character, such as we could make ourselves with the aid of an auger and an axe. And yet we had plenty to eat. The country was full of game, bear, deer, turkey, as well as panthers, wolves and wildcats, and wild honey was found in great abundance. We could hear the wolves howling every night. The first sow I ever owned was killed by a bear near my dooryard. I once chased a bear over the very site of this town. This was, even in that day a fine country. Our cattle were fat winter and summer, without any care of feeding them. In the winter the lowlands and bottoms were covered with a grass we called "winter grass," which sustained our stock in fine condition during the most rigorous weather. Peavine, grass and weeds were then so thick that we could trail a bear or horse all day. There was no underbrush in the woods except now and then a little patch which we called "bear-roughs," where the fire had not reached.
As I said, we had plenty of everything to eat, but how to get money was the problem, we had none. Notes were given, not for money, but for raccoon skins or articles of personal property. I remember that I once went down to Dorris' store

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at Old Frankfort, to get some domestic for my wife, who was sick. I told Dorris our condition; that we had been sick and got bare of clothing, and asked him how much I could pay him for the cloth we needed so much. He asked me, "are you a hunter?" I said, "No sir." Says he, "Will you hunt?" I said, "Why do you want to know that?" "Well," says he, "If you will hunt and let me have all the skins and deer hams you get, you can have what you want." I agreed to his proposition and bought twenty-four yards of cotton domestic at .50 cents a yard. When I took it home I told my wife how I got it. She shed tears and said we were in debt, that we could never get out. This affected me somewhat, but I told her that we did not get the goods before we needed them, and I thought there would be some way provided to pay for them. This was in the winter and the weather was very severe. The next morning I was up before daylight to go hunting. When I reached Middle Fork Creek it was frozen over hard, but I found an airhole, or open space in the ice, and while looking at it I spied an otter stick his head up, before I could shoot, it dodged under the ice. The water was clear and I could see it swimming under the ice. I followed it down the creek until I saw it go into a hole in the bank under the water. I then went back home and got some tools and my dogs and went digging, and soon unearthed and captured three large otters. The skins were then worth $4.00 apiece. So that you see I paid for the cloth I had bought by one hunt before breakfast. I took the skins to my wife and told her we would now get out of debt. She said she would never distrust providence again. At this time I could not read or write intelligently, nor cipher any, but, by the light of the fireplace at night, after working hard all day, I tried to improve myself in reading, writing and arithmetic, and by perseverance in this way, I got a fair knowledge of these branches, though, of course, by no means perfect.
I cleared my own farm, cut and split the rails and carried them on my shoulder and made a fence, as I had no wagon

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