Mode Of Living - Manners And Customs
Taken From: Recollections And Opinions Of An Old Pioneer
By: Peter H. (Hardeman) Burnett © 1880
Our manner of living was very simple. For some years the only mills in the country were propelled by horses, each customer furnishing his own team, and taking his proper turn to grind his grain. At times when the mills were thronged (and this was generally so in winter), they had to wait from one to two days. During this time the mill-boys mostly lived on parched corn. The manner of sending to mill was to put a bag, some three feet long, and containing from two and a half to three bushels of grain, across the back of a gentle horse, the bag being well balanced by having the same quantity in each end, and then putting a man or boy upon the top to keep it on, and to guide the horse. It often happened that both bag and boy tumbled off, and then there was trouble, not so much because the boy was a little hurt (for he would soon recover), but because it was difficult to get the bag on again. When any one could shoulder a bag of corn, he was considered a man ; and to stand in a half-bushel measure, and shoulder a bag containing two and a half to three bushels, was considered quite a feat. I heard of a woman who could do so, but never saw her, and cannot say that the statement was true.
For some years very little wheat was grown, Indian corn being the only grain raised ; and, when wheat was produced, there were no good flour-mills for some time. If, during those times, we had a biscuit and a cup Of coffee every Sunday morning we were fortunate. As a substitute for coffee, we often used rye or corn meal parched ; and instead of " store tea " we used the root of the sassafras. Our clothing was " homespun," made by our mothers and sisters - jeans and linsey for the males, and linsey and striped cotton for the females. Hunting-shirts and pants of dressed buckskin were very common, and in some very rare cases females were clad in dressed buckskin. In summer the boys and girls went barefoot, and young and married women often. Moccasins were often worn instead of shoes. I have seen young women, in going to public places, stop a short distance before reaching the place, take off their coarse shoes, and put on their " Sunday shoes." Such a thing as a fine carriage was never seen. Some very few had what was then called a " Dearborn," being a small vehicle for one horse, and without any top to it. Our linsey and jeans for e very-day use were usually colored with hickory or walnut bark, that of a finer quality with indigo. A suit of blue jeans was considered a fine dress. I remember that in Clay County, about 1824-'25, there were only three or four men who could boast of a suit of broadcloth. A young man who had been in the service of the United States as a soldier came to Liberty, Clay County, about that time, and dressed himself in a new suit of blue broadcloth, surmounted by an elegant new fur hat of his own workmanship (he was a hatter), and he used to strut up and down the only street in the place, to the great astonishment of others. At that time there must have been about three hundred voters in the county.
The principal trade at that date was in skins, honey, and beeswax, all wild productions. When Missouri was first settled, cotton was cultivated for domestic use. The seeds were picked out by hand, or by a small gin consisting of two wooden rollers, three quarters of an inch in diameter and a foot long, to one of which a crank and handle were attached. The operator sat across a bench, upon which the rollers on the top of a piece of timber were securely fastened, and turned the crank with his right and applied the cotton with his left hand. The rollers were placed together, so that turning one would turn the other ; and, while the cotton, in thin slices, would pass between them, the seed could not. It was, however, a slow process.
What were called " cotton pickings " were then very-common. The young people of the neighborhood assembled about dark, divided themselves into two equal parties, placed the quantity of cotton to be picked in two large piles before a big fire, and then commenced a race to see which party would get through first. The cotton picked more easily when warmed, and this was the reason for placing it before the fire. Much cheating was done by hiding away portions of the unpicked cotton. The object was to accomplish the task as early as possible, and then to enter into the dance, or the various plays then common, such as "Old Jake," "Pleased or displeased?" "Tired of your company?" "Bishop of Winchester has lost his crown," and " We are marching along toward Quebeck." I remember that, when I was about fourteen years of age, I attended a cotton-picking in Howard County, at the house of a widow. I had never danced any, and, though naturally diffident, I determined I would break the ice. There was present an old maid. Miss Milly A., with whom I was well acquainted � a large, corpulent woman, low, thick-set, and weighing about two hundred pounds. With her I danced some seven sets (most of them Virginia reels), without a rest. Though so large, she moved over the puncheon floor with ease and grace, and was amply able, I found to my sorrow, to tire me out ; for the next day I was so sore that I could scarcely walk.
This rash experiment cured me of dancing for some years.
At my father's house I never saw a cotton-picking. It was usual in the fall and winter to pick the cotton at night, in which task all of us participated who were able to work. The young ladies spun and wove, and often made a beautiful article of striped and checked cotton cloth, out of which they made themselves dresses. Hemp and flax, especially the latter, were used in the manufacture of summer clothing for children and men. My sister Constantia was very fond of reading, was well educated for that day, and was the most talented of the family. I remember to have heard my mother laughingly complain that my sister would stop the loom any time to read a book. The weaving of the family was generally done by the white women, and mainly by the unmarried daughters.
It required great industry, rigid economy, and wise foresight to make a plain living in those times. I have often thought of the severe struggles of my parents and their children to live. The leather for our winter shoes was tanned at home, and the shoes for the family were made by my father and myself, after I was large enough to assist him. Peg-work was not then under- stood, and it required some little art to make and bristle " an end," as they called the waxed thread with which the shoes were sewed.
The climate of Missouri is cold and changeable, requiring stock to be fed some five or six months in the year. In the early settlement of the State, the people suffered much from sickness caused by exposure, bad food (as the corn from which the bread was made was often frost-bitten), and the decay of such masses of timber as were left dead in the fields.
Log-rolling was also one of the laborious amusements of those days. To clear away the dense forests for cultivation was a work of some years. The underbrush was grubbed up, the small trees (saplings) were cut down and burned, and the large trees belted around with the axe, by cutting through the sap of the trees, which process was called " deadening." The trees belted would soon die, and their tops first fall off, and afterward the trunks would fall down, often breaking the rail fences and crushing the growing corn, and in the winter time occasionally killing the cattle running in the stalk-fields. Sometimes a human being would be killed by a falling limb, or by a stroke of lightning. My sister Constantia's first husband, James M. Miller, was killed by lightning on the bank of the Missouri river at Booneville about 1821 ; and my wife only escaped death from a similar cause at Liberty, Missouri, in 1833, by accidentally leaving the fireplace where she was sitting, and retiring to the adjoining room, only just one moment before the lightning struck the stone chimney, throwing down the top, and melting together the blades of a pair of large scissors hanging below the mantel-piece against the chimney.
The early settlers of the West were greatly aided by the wild game, fruits, and honey, which were most abundant. There were walnuts, hickory-nuts, hazelnuts, pecans, raspberries, blackberries, wild plums, summer, fall, and winter grapes; of game, the squirrel, rabbit, opossum, coon, deer, and black bear; and of fowls, the quail, wild duck, goose, swan, prairie chicken, and wild turkey, the noblest game -fowl among them all. For some years no tame turkeys were raised, as the wild were abundant and just as good. Domestication may change the color of the plumage, but not the quality or the color of the flesh of the turkey. One turkey hen would usually rear a flock of from ten to fifteen each year. We had dogs well trained to hunt the turkeys by trailing them up and forcing them to take refuge in the timber, the dogs standing below the turkey on the tree, and keeping up an incessant barking, so as to keep his attention fixed upon the dogs, while the skillful hunter approached unobserved within rifle-shot. The dogs used were the ordinary curs.
I remember a circumstance which occurred in Clay County when I was about seventeen, and my brother Glen fifteen, I had left my father's house, and was living with my sister Constantia's second husband, Major William L. Smith, then a merchant of Liberty. Two or three days before Christmas I went to visit my parents, and to spend the Christmas holidays at home. The well-trained dogs, Major, Captain, and Cue, had not forgotten me. My mother requested Glen and myself to kill some wild turkeys for the Christmas dinner, and directed us to shoot them in the head, so as not to tear the body. Fully confident in our marksmanship, we promised her we would do so. Taking the faithful and keen-scented dogs and the trusty old rifle, with its black- walnut stock and flint-lock, we started into the hills toward the Missouri bottoms, and soon found a flock of gobblers, one of which alighted in a tall red-oak tree, near the top. Being older than my brother and a guest, it was my privilege to have the first shot. I approached as near as I could venture to do (as I saw the turkey was very wild, from the high head he held), and determined that I would, as requested, shoot him in the head; but, when I endeavored to take aim, the distance was so great and the object so small that I despaired of hitting his head; and so taking, as I thought, good aim at his body, I fired and he fell. From his much fluttering, I feared I had not given him a fatal shot, and that the dogs, in their efforts to kill him, would tear his flesh; so I told my brother to run to the turkey, while I remained to load my rifle, the custom of the hunter being to load his gun the first thing, and on the spot from which he fires his shot. When I had loaded and went to the turkey, I found I had shot him through the neck just below the head, the ball breaking his neck-bone. We then proceeded, and soon started up a flock of hens (as the hens and gobblers go in separate flocks in winter, and pair in spring), one of which alighted in the fork of a hackberry tree. I requested my brother to shoot, but he declined, thinking no doubt that I was a superior shot. So I determined, as before, that I would shoot the turkey in the head; but when taking aim I despaired of success, and taking, as I again thought, good aim at the body of the bird, I fired and she fell. When I came to examine her, I found my ball had just knocked off the top of her head, entering the skull to the depth of half an inch.
With these two turkeys we went home in triumph, and, as I did not then disclose the fact of having taken aim at the body, I was considered the best shot in the neighborhood. It was a singular circumstance that my mother should have first directed us to shoot the birds in the head, and that I should have accidentally done so twice in succession. The explanation is that I had simply overshot, owing perhaps to an overcharge of powder.
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Bee Hunt – Fisticuff Fights – Lazy Bill
Before I went to live with Major Smith, a circumstance occurred that deeply distressed our family. In the fall of 1823 I went in company with an uncle on a bee-hunt. We took a negro man ("Uncle Hal") and my father's good wagon and team, and a number of kegs and one barrel to hold the honey which we expected to find. We crossed the State line into the Indian country, keeping the open prairie until we had passed several miles beyond the frontier, when we left our wagon in the edge of the prairie, and, with the horses, guns, blankets, and a few kegs, took to the timber. We traveled through the forest one day, and looked diligently for bees as we rode along on our horses. I remember that I found two bee-trees that day. I was very proud of my success, as no others were found, and my uncle was a veteran bee-hunter. We hunted three or four days before we returned to the wagon. Bees were generally hunted in the fall or winter, as the hives were then full of honey. In the fall the hunter would find the hive by seeing the bees coming in and going out; but in the winter he would discover the bee-tree by finding the dead bees on the snow at the foot of the tree. When a bee dies in a hive the living cast out his dead body, which falls to the ground. This is done during the few warm clear days in winter.
When we left the wagon in the edge of the prairie, it was early in October. The tall prairie grass was green, and there was no apparent danger of fire; but the second night out there fell a severe frost, and as we approached the prairie we smelt the smoke, and at once feared our wagon was gone. The prairie had been set on fire, I suppose, by the Indians, to drive all the game into the timber. The fire extended into the thick under- brush that skirted the prairie, and cooked the ripe summer grapes on the vines that bound the hazel thickets together. We had some difficulty in finding the place where we left the wagon; but, when we did at length find it, there was none of its wood-work left but the hubs, and they were still burning. I remember the most sorrowful looks of my uncle and of the negro man. The latter was a faithful slave, about forty years old; he had always driven the team, and was proud of it. He was so much distressed that he wept. I was greatly distressed myself, for I knew what a heavy loss it would be to the family. My father was not able to purchase another, and afterward for some time had to get along with a cart, which he made himself.
In reference to the simple mode of dress then common among the people of Western Missouri, I will state an illustrative circumstance. I was not present, but had the facts from the gentleman himself. He was a man of education, of strictly temperate habits, and, although not a professor of religion, remarkable for his general good conduct. He was a merchant of Liberty, and on one occasion he attended preaching in the country not far from town. He was one of the very few who dressed in broadcloth, which he wore on this occasion. The preacher was an old man well known ; and during his sermon he referred to this gentleman, not by name, but as the smooth-faced young man in fine apparel, and severely condemned his style of dress, as being contrary to the spirit of the gospel. The behavior of the gentle-man was orderly and respectful.
In those primitive times fisticuff fights were very common, especially at our militia trainings. After the military exercises (which were not remarkable for accuracy) were over, some bully would mount a stump, imitate the clapping and crowing of a cock, and declare aloud that he could whip any man in that crowd except his friends. Those who were not his professed friends were thus challenged to fight. If the challenge was accepted, the two combatants selected their seconds, and repaired to some place where the crowd could witness the contest, the seconds keeping back the throng outside the limits designated, and knocking down any one who attempted to interfere. When a hero was conquered, he made it known by a low cry of " 'Nuff ! " After washing their faces, the combatants usually took a friendly drink together ; and, if the vanquished was not satisfied, he went away determined upon another trial at some future time.
These contests were governed by certain rules, according to which they were generally conducted. They arose, not from hatred or animosity as a general rule, but from pride and love of fame. It was simply a very severe trial of manhood, perseverance, and skill. I have known men on such occasions to lose part of the ear or nose, and sometimes an eye. In most cases both parties were severely bruised, bitten, and gouged, and would be weeks in recovering. It was a brutal, but not fatal mode of combat. I never knew one to terminate fatally. The custom of stabbing and shooting came into use after this. The conqueror took great, and the conquered little, pleasure in relating the incidents of the fight. The description of one was diffuse, of the other concise. Most generally the defeated hero had some complaint to make of foul play, or some plausible excuse to give, like an unsuccessful candidate for office.
Among our neighbors in Clay County, there was a tall, long-legged, lazy man, of the name of William Fox, called " lazy Bill." He did very little work, and yet managed well, had a good farm, made a good living, and was a good stock-raiser. Among his cattle he had a very fine, blooded male calf, running in his blue-grass pasture, on the side of a considerable ridge. One warm day Fox caught the calf (then six months old) by the tail, and the animal at once started on a run down hill, increasing his speed at every successive jump. At first Fox's steps were of reasonable length, but soon they became awfully long, and Fox saw that he could not possibly continue such a rate of speed. In passing near a sapling, he ran around on the other side from the calf, still holding on to the tail. The result was a sudden fetch-up and fall of both Fox and the calf. The calf went off apparently unhurt, but next morning Fox found him dead. Upon examination, he found that the calf's back was disjointed a short distance above the root of the tail. It was not so long a race as that of John Gil- pin, but more fatal.
It was among these simple backwoods people that I grew up to manhood. When my father settled in Howard County, that point was upon the frontier; and when he moved to Clay he was still upon the confines of civilization. Clay was one of the most western counties of one of the most western States ; all the country west of that to the shore of the great Pacific Ocean being wild Indian country, in which white men were not permitted to reside, except the traders licensed by the United States, and the officers and soldiers stationed at the military posts. The means of education did not then exist, except to a very limited extent; and we had too much hard work to admit of attending school, except at intervals during the summer. At school I learned to spell, read, write, and cipher so far as the rule of supposition, and studied English grammar so as to be able to parse and punctuate with tolerable accuracy. This was the sum total of my school education.