Now and Then – Reminiscence
By Rev. B.F. Lawler
Page 7

Reminiscence
In 1840 the Bible was a rare book in St. Clair county. My father had a large, costly Bible and only one. The traveling preacher had a Bible and a hymn book. I do not remember to have seen Bibles in very many homes, and the veneration for that dear book was apparent everywhere. No question was ever raised against it, and when it was read in our presence it was like God speaking to us. How did it come that we knew much that is in the Bible? We knew the story of Noah and the flood and Joseph and his brethren, Abraham and Isaac, of Jacob going down into Egypt, of the prodigal son and the fatted calf – yes, we knew all that and more: how did we get it? Much as may be said against the preaching of that time we learned all that from sermons – long sermons they were, but many of the preachers did not know anything to preach about but the Bible as science and a traveling criticism had not come into notice then, a preacher would come and an appointment would be circulated and a good congregation would assemble in a private house at “early candle light”, and preaching would have right of way as long as the preacher cared to preach. Seats were often very crude – even rough, but they were comfortable by use of blankets or quilts spread upon them. The preacher occupied the corner on one side of the fireplace while all remaining space would be occupied by the people.
One preacher preached about Noah and the Ark and it was an awful picture he gave, but he gave another far more appalling when he said there would never be another flood, but that a great fire would someday burn up the world and all that would be on it. Many years afterward Daniel R. Murphy preached to an immense congregation under the shade of the trees using the same text Noah and the Ark; his description was very vivid and the drowning of the old world was awful, but he turned and said Christ is our Ark and are ye all in it? This was followed by another stirring question: are all your children in the ark? We sat on split logs for seats between which was plenty of wheat straw, many sitting on the straw leaning against the seat for a back. Later, the Sunday School came with the question book and other helps, but bibles did not come to be plentiful until many of us were men and women who seldom had a Bible in our hands when we were young.
Bibles are now sold by the car load and many parents put a Bible in the hands of every child writing the child’s name on the fly leaf. But how could we then know then that dear, mysterious book was composed of many different books? how long till we knew the difference between the old Testament and the New? What do we know about them now? B.F. Lawler

Reminiscence
Now as the schools will soon open we become a little reminiscent concerning some school matters in former times.
Subscription schools did not constitute all the school advantages before the war, for the public school system was in force some years prior to that time and, I remember some of the objections urged against it one of which was: that men who have no children to educate had to pay for the education of other men’s children. That objection fell under a larger conception of citizenship and if a rich bachelor or other childless man had any thoughts about it they wisely said nothing.
A very bright little man was superintendent of Public schools in the county and had his office about where the Williams Hotel now is: he hardly examined me at all, yet gave me a certificate. W.F. Carter had been superintendent but was then in poor health dying soon afterward. Few men if any in the county stand so easily at the front as scholars as did he.
I remember that the School Board gave dignity to the school – wood was prepared for the school, a new thing in the school business at hat time; but it never occurred to me to call on the Board in case of discipline for some schoolmasters in those days were a terror to evil doers in school and even out of school, so that it was easy to control even larger children by gentle means following a fighting predecessor.
The class idea soon prevailed over the rotation in recitation and the interest was correspondingly increased.
But it was a long time before the pupils learned not to trouble the teachers with their “sums” while another class stood waiting to recite, I have seen teachers beyond their depth, for the time, helping a pupil while a whole class waited.
Concert reading and declamation enlivened even a drowsy school when the more accurate way seemed to fail.
Many a plow boy could repeat Rienza’s address to the Romans or Marco Bozaris or Thanatopsis with a great deal of confidence in himself in those days.
The single rule of three was easy while the double rule or compound proportion demanded a master.
Teaching then was, perhaps more incisive and not so general as it is now. A boy who could change pounds, shillings and pence into our money was counted well along in arithmetic.
To my amazement now very few in our army of bright students knew grammar, and some argued that grammar was not necessary, and many still feel and act that way about their own language.
It is easy to criticize and in a general way it is better not to do so; but other wise scholarly people to be faulty in grammar is a “faulty way”.
I heard a teacher say something like this:
Let us find out what he wishes you and I to do. I do not think the man himself noticed it, and if he had he should not have corrected himself then.
Many persons are inclined to reflect on the early teachers in the county for not knowing grammar, but until we can cease repeating “hadn’t ought to do it”, we should not be severe on the pioneer teacher.
But the way history was taught or not taught is worthy of severe censure.
The teacher in many cases listened to one pupil and called attention to something in the reading, but as for the teaching it was mainly absent.
Much crude history was gathered up by good listeners in the debating societies around log fires out of doors in Autumn nights.
It would be interesting and somewhat instructive to listen to such crude oratory now as we had in those days. B.F. Lawler

Reminiscence
No, I did not go to school with Monegaw, the chief of the Osages, as Mr. Johnson, jokingly, suggests, or I certainly would have found out all about his tribe and how they discovered the Monegaw Springs and why they called the water “good medicine”. But I saw one of his tribe, a large man, eating a “special order” dinner at my father’s table in 1839. I was five years old, but the sight of that red man has never faded from my mind. He carried his gun, “tommyhawk” and scalping knife, and as we had heard how they scalped white people we were greatly afraid of him, and, although he was quite mandatory in regard to his dinner my sisters obeyed perfectly. I do not wonder that the poor Indian lingered on these “happy hunting grounds”. It is impossible to paint the natural growths on the land at that time, “swimming holes” for boys could be found in most all large branches emptying into the creeks and fish could be taken from many such places with pin hook, in that early day. No loose earth from dusty roads, nor from newly plowed fields washed into the holes in the creeks to fill them up, most farms were of sod of the first and second year and the soil did not wash away. Cattle in mild winters lived on vines and grass they could easily find on most of the small water courses and the heavier forests in the valleys. The hunter and the trapper had a paradise, for it would tax any scribe to mention birds, fowls and animals of all kinds to be had for the taking.
What would those early settlers have thought of a game law or a game warden then? Such a thing did not occur to them. In those days we would sing; “the wolf if howling on the hill, we hear him, hear him still” or we would sing of the hunter’s horn as he goes out on breezy morn to chase the deer. The hounds made fine music for some ears as they chased the wounded deer to death; I shall never forget the awful feeling that came to me as I heard the dying wail of a great red buck as he yielded his life to the hounds when his gunshot wounds had taken his strength away. I had no part in the chase but was close enough to hear the victorious yelp of the dogs and the fearful death cry of the noble animal – I feel it yet. But I suppose when his fine flesh came on the table I forgot how the animal died. No wonder the poor Indians were slow in leaving these delightful rivers, creeks and prairies. Why did they go? Ask Uncle Sam.
“Sadly and slowly they climb in distant mountain and read their doom in the setting sun.”
Farewell, poor Osages! B.F. Lawler

Reminiscence
Last week we left the grave of the servant woman of Judge Gash, the “grave yard” as such places were called, then being on the land owned by William Culbertson, senior, easy of Coon creek, opposite the great spring not far from which was the church building just above the home of Benjamin Nance, who owns his father’s old home, well known then through the county. In time of the war a few bodies were buried there, but being private property it has long ceased to be a burying place. The statute law holds it sacred for those buried there and a few out of the many graves have been fenced and cared for, but only a few now living are here to claim their right.
A death at that time in the county was soon known to most people in the county and ordinarily many people attended the burial, often not a minister would be present, and no service at home or at the grave. But a minister would be notified and announcement made that on a certain Sunday at a given place the “funeral would be preached”. I remember such a service as a “memorial” as we now call it was conducted by Rev. J.T. Wheeler at Coon creek church in memory of John and Adaline Wamsley several months after their death. The building could not hold a fourth of the people who attended, the seats being placed in the shade of the fine trees, the vat crowd standing or sitting on the grass. The text was, “If God so clothe grass which is today in the field and tomorrow in the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith”. Matthew 6:30. It was a great and solemn meeting. The children had attended school in the building then used as a church building, their home being several miles away. It was common then for children of more advanced experience to go horse back to school a distance from home. Alexis Wamsley, years after his brother and sister deceased, rode on a mule from their home on Brush creek to a school one mile or north of Collins six miles. Robert and James Boswell rode from their home not far from where John Boswell now lives to Union school house close to Bert Gardner’s and Urial L. Sutherland was teacher, himself riding from where Mr. Adamson now lives, miles away. The Boswell boys ode fine horses, having good saddles, a thing to be noticed in those days.
But a funeral spreading gloom over the whole community was that of Judge Gash’s youngest daughter, “Lizzie”, as she was called. She was beautiful and gay, was a bride of only a short time, the wife of a Mr. Whitlow then living in the new town, Osceola. Her sickness was short and startling, so few people sickened and died then in the county.
The slow movement of a funeral procession was noticeable then as compared with rapid movement now in the cities and larger towns because, I suppose there was no “hearse” with easy springs upon which the precious bodies could be borne. Many were conveyed to their final resting places in wagons drawn by oxen. When the “two-horse wagon” came into use it was a great relief.
Old cemeteries are hidden away in the wildwood, and the night bird sings above many a sacred spot while those who sleep there are “only remembered for what they have done”. B.F. Lawler

Reminiscence
In 1840 Osceola prairie had very few houses near it. Joel Redman lived on the east side of the prairie close to where Macedonia church now is. For many years he rode a fine black horse, always fat, to Coon Creek church five miles away, every month and was always on time. He sat straight up in his saddle much like a trained soldier – he was a very good man.
On the west side of the prairie James Lunsford lived in a sound log cabin being on the farm now owned by Mr. Adamson, four miles south of town. This claim was purchased by Major Samuel Harrison, a wealthy man, who made it a great plantation. His son, Dr. Edwin Harrison, greatly improved the farm and built the residence now owned by Mr. Adamson.
Mr. Lunsford, the first owner, was a local preacher and helped to organize the first church in all the country, Coon creek Baptist church. He had a son whose name was Joshua and they called him “Josh”. Some people were not very polite in speaking of the father, calling him “old man Lunsford”. He built a grist mill on Coon creek just above W.T. Brunson’s. I was there once, but the mill had a short life, it’s builder also moving away, was lost sight of by the few people who knew him and many new comers never heard of him. But he left a picture on my mind favorable as to his moral worth.
In those days it required an experienced horseman to lead a stranger from one house to another. Blue stem grass in the fall, on the prairie in many places was high as a horse’s back. The first path that could be followed by anyone was made by an ox team dragging a heavy log, the driver being guided by a horseman taking the lead. This particular road was opened between where Oliver Coffey now lives to Joel Redman’s, near where Macedonia church now is. Young Redman rode the horse and W.B. Lawler, then seventeen years old, drove the team. Bridle paths were known before many wagon roads were open. I remember well when county roads were opened and known by three notches on trees through the timber and stakes through the prairie. These were laid out by “reviewers” and were generally placed on the best ground for roads regardless of section corners. That accounts for the greater distances from place to place since all the land is fenced. From Oliver Coffey’s to Osceola was eight miles and a half, as it was told to travelers almost every day as they inquired as they passed. Oliver Coffey owns what was once my father’s home, so dear to us all. B.F. Lawler

Reminiscence
The Scenic Osage
Sixty-nine years ago I stood on the banks of the beautiful Osage and watched its waters flow and the steamboats anchor for their unloading, but the river I saw then, I saw no more; that river – that water found a home in the greater waters of the sea, like the people who were here then – gone to the ocean of eternity. Even the river the gay people rode upon a few days ago in their little boats. That river is now on its way to the sea and we shall not see it again. But the noble channel is with us still, the very same the red man stood upon as he gazed upon their cliffs dotting the shore line and all this was his; how proud he must have felt! There is the magnificent Red Rock, perhaps one hundred feet higher than the water. The swallows have built their nest on its stately walls with never a fear of being disturbed by storm nor the clutch of a cruel hand. The great cliff guarding the entrance of the Sac River into the Osage is worthy the study of travelers even in the old country. The caves under the cliff rivet and hold the attention while the boat glides gently by. Just then a lone fisherman was softly dipping his oars in the water as he moved his boat to a more favorable place to fish. Further along a camp fire was surrounded by pleasure seekers who also may cast in a hook among the finny tribe. Another noted rock claimed attention called the Rock of Ages. This also called attention to “Poor Low”, the Indians, as he must have looked upon the rock the last time he paddled his light canoe under its shadow. Oh! how many eyes will see that rock no more!
The early settlers soon learned to say our rivers, our trees, our bluffs and our everything. Yes, we claim the whole river from the Marmaton to Bolton’s landing, even to the Missouri, but of St. Clair we feel a special ownership of all its rivers, all its magnificent cliffs, its creeks, hills and rich valleys. How little did we think of bridges sixty-nine years ago? Who then could have imagined a magnificent bridge at Monegaw so recently built? We thank the county court and the builders for its early completion. And we are to have another at Crow Island. Who could have thought when steam boats plied the river that two railroad bridges and a wagon bridge would block their way at Osceola.
I want to say something to you of Monegaw in an early day, but I cannot find even the meaning of the word.
My recollection is older than the reputation of the water as a medicine, except as a few individuals might have used. In school we knew the name as “Monegan” and that is the name of the township, but Monegaw deserves something to be said now about its early history, the meaning of its name if possible and whether the noble red man knew its waters to be “good medicine”. Who can tell us?
But the beautiful Osage! we hail you as a gift from God; for our study and our delight, for the richness of her valleys, the grandness of her hills, for the cedar crowned cliffs and for the new river which comes every day to salute the river of yesterday as it sings its farewell song. B.F. Lawler

Submitted by Stacy Kelly

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