his glasses and, with the proud air of a victor, pointed his finger at the Methodists and said in a loud voice, "Straightway out of the water, and not out of your sprinkling pots—not out of your sprinkling pots!” This was practically the end of the service, for the enthusiasm of the Baptists, their vociferous applause at what they considered the "death blow" to the Methodists, would allow nothing further to be said. In the opinion of the Baptists the battle was won and nothing remained but to give burial to the Methodists.

The Primitive Baptists, popularly called "Hardshells," were a plain, sincere and honest folk. There was a man by the name of Jennings who had come into the neighborhood and married a widow by the name of Cahal. He became very unpopular for some reason, and finally joined the Baptist church and was baptized in Big Creek by Mr. Wright. One of the neighbors who was hostile to Jennings, instructed his servants not to water the horses below the place where Jennings was immersed, for fear the water would make the horses sick.

Another amusing incident that happened in the neighborhood grew out of the fact that Willis Jones attempted to preach. He was a good man, but very ignorant. He had no education and could neither read nor write intelligently. He believed he heard a call to preach from the Master, and responded as best he could. The Baptists believe that all of their preachers are called by God, and so my mother, a firm believer in the tenets of the church, when joked about Jones, said, "Some one was calling hogs and Willis mistook the call and answered."

Aside from the Baptist and Methodist, there were

no other religious organizations in the neighborhood. Troy was then, as now, the county seat of Lincoln County and situated five miles north of Sandrun Church.

The amusements provided for the younger set consisted of gatherings at neighbors' houses, where games were played and frequently dances indulged in. The music for the dances was furnished by negro fiddlers, and was of a character "not to be sneezed at." There were three of these fiddlers in the neighborhood-Rube and Ming, who belonged to Billy Clark, and Sneb, who belonged to Boyd. I have never heard any sweeter music than that drawn from those old fiddles. I can still hear (or imagine I can) old Ming as he would play, sing, and call the figures, "Ladies in the center, and all hands round!" "All four forward, and do-si-do!" "Swing corners, and all promenade!" The dances would continue all night long, and with old Ming half asleep and the fiddle still going he would sing as an accompaniment, "Hop light, ladies, day is a'breaking, don't you see the morning star?"

Those were good old days, and everybody happy. The hat was passed around for the benefit of the fiddlers, and everyone was expected to contribute not less than ten cents and not more than twenty-five. This was all the expense attending these parties. These dances were "pulled off" most generally at the homes of Harvey Brown, Jacob Geiger, and Macon Hill. The young men and young ladies went to these homes on horseback-usually two on a horse- the man before, and the lady behind. If the horse objected to

"carrying double" it was good to see with what tenacity the young woman held on to the man to keep from falling off. The man seemed pleased with the situation, and the woman did not object. In the winter when the snows were deep, every young fellow in the neighborhood had a sleigh or, as it was then called, a "jumper." This "jumper" was easily constructed. Two saplings of sufficient length were cut down for runners. Holes were bored in the larger part, standards inserted and braces placed, upon which a box sufficiently large for two persons was fastened, and the forward or smaller parts of the saplings were used as shafts. These were fastened to the hames on the horse with lines made of rope, and, with a large cow bell on the horse, the gayest trips possible were made from house to house in that sparsely settled territory.

In the evenings, after the stock had been fed and supper eaten, the negroes in their cabins, the banjo was taken down from the wall and a regular "walk around" took place.

It is a just tribute to the negro to say that they were faithful, obedient and loving to the whites, and there was no lullaby ever sung to the white child that was sweeter than that which the "old mammy" would sing. Surely, the good Lord will not forget them in the great hereafter.

An incident showing devotion to the wife and child by an old negro was never better exemplified than in that which I am about to relate. Christopher Carter was a neighbor of our family and owned a negro man by the name of John. John had a common-law wife

by the name of Paulina, who belonged to my mother. Marriage between negroes was prohibited by law, and it was only by voluntary cohabitation that semblance was given to legality. These two persons, John and Paulina, were the father and mother of several children, all of whom under the law belonged to my mother. When the California gold excitement of 1849 was at its height, Carter's three sons, George, Tom and Rolla, determined to cross the plains to California in search of gold, and with the permission of their father, took John (the slave) with them.

Thus it was that the husband, without his consent, was taken away from the wife and children and made to work in the gold fields for his young masters. Had John seen proper to avail himself of his rights to freedom under the laws then existing, he could have remained in California a free man. This he did not prefer to do, but trusted to his master to take him back to slavery and his wife and children in Missouri. After being in California a year, the youngest of the Carter boys, Rolla, was taken very sick. It was thought best to send him home by water in care of the faithful old John. The two went on board ship at San Francisco and started for New York via Panama. This sick man was carried on the shoulders of John across the isthmus and placed in a vessel on the Atlantic side. In the course of time the vessel reached New York and the two passengers made their way from New York to Missouri. I was twelve years old when they returned, and I can never forget the joy that was overflowing in the cabin when John embraced his wife and children. Here was a husband so devoted to wife and children that he pre

ferred them with slavery to freedom without. Monuments have been erected to many who are not so deserving as old John.

Carter owned another negro man by the name of Fred. He also had a wife at my mother's home, and her name was Rachel. These two were also father and mother of several children. Carter became involved in debt and had to sell Fred to get money to pay off his indebtedness. Fred was sold to a “negro trader" from the South. Thus it was that another family was separated for all time. One of the children followed my fortunes in the Civil War and took care of my horses while I was Colonel of the 49th Missouri Infantry. All of that family of negroes are dead, and only two years ago I contributed to the funeral expenses of the last one of them.

I have probably devoted more space to what I consider great wrongs done to the negroes than I should, but I confess that my sympathy for them has much to do with it all.