The Kentucky Ranger
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Edward T. Curnick >> The Kentucky Ranger
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John Larkin called the school to order, and made a few remarks.
"Dear friends, we are met here today to worship God and to study his
Holy Word. I am sure you want me in your behalf to thank the ladies who
visited your homes and invited you to help in starting this school, and
to thank Mr. Spink and family who have so kindly opened their house for
our meetings. Miss Viola LeMonde has had some hymn books placed on the
benches, and she will lead us in song."
Viola knew that most of those present were not acquainted with a single
religious hymn, but she thought the older ones might be able to sing
some of the old favorites of the church. So she led them in singing:
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me," and "All hail the power of Jesus' name."
Those who had come to help in the school carried the tunes along very
well, and Viola was surprised and pleased to hear some of the farmers
and their wives join in singing these sweet songs of Zion.
Then Viola sang as a solo a beautiful and appropriate "Children's
Hymn," containing these words.
"Hosanna! be the children's song,
To Christ, the children's King;
His praise, to whom our souls belong,
Let all the children sing.
Hosanna! sound from hill to hill,
And spread from plain to plain,
While louder, sweeter, clearer still,
Woods echo to the strain."
Then John Larkin said: "Let us pray." He closed his eyes, and began an
earnest supplication at the throne of grace. But it might have been
better for him and the school, if he had kept his eyes open while he
offered his petition, and thus obeyed the Bible command: "Watch and
pray." When he closed his eyes the little imps in divers parts of the
room saw their chance for mischief, and were quick to embrace it.
A Sneath boy put his straw hat on the head of a boy next him, and then
knocked it off with no gentle blow. This angered the other youngster
and he hit back with his clenched fist. So they had it back and forth,
to the amusement of all the chaps around them. Another boy got
possession of a pin--a rather scarce article in that neighborhood--and
at one of the most fervent parts of the preacher's prayer stuck it into
the lad sitting in front of him. The punctured youth gave a yell which
could not be construed into an Amen on account of the petition. It
raised the lad off his seat, and made him jump forward with an impetus
which was both amusing and pathetic. The hurt of the pin seemed to
swallow up every feeling save that of distress, and he "boo-hooed"
aloud.
Such proceedings made Brother Larkin bring his prayer to an abrupt
conclusion, and Viola LeMonde hurried to the sobbing child, and tried
to comfort him.
After the devotions the school was divided into classes. John Larkin
took the adults of both sexes; Viola LeMonde, the larger girls;
Henrietta Harvey, the smaller; George LeMonde, the older boys; and
Stella Nebeker, the younger.
These teachers that day occupied places of responsibility which taxed
every particle of their skill, ingenuity, tact, patience and
forbearance. Many of those sitting around them could not read or write
a word. So first they had to be taught words and sentences. Their
knowledge of the Bible was pitifully small. Yet they possessed the
redeeming feature of wanting to learn, and most of them showed an eager
desire to improve their minds.
Let us, as unbidden guests, in spirit sit down in Viola LeMonde's class
and listen to what is said. These girls' minds were bright but
undeveloped. It was their teacher's object to educate--lead out--her
pupils' intellects into the broad fields of Scriptural knowledge.
"Girls," said Viola, "we are going to study the book, copies of which
we are holding in our hands. It is called the Bible. Let me ask some
questions about it, and you try to answer them."
"Have you seen the Bible before today?"
Susanna Spink replied: "I seed one onct, when I went to a camp meetin'
near Honey Crick. A man read out of a book he called de Bible, and then
he talked and talked a long, long time."
"The Bible tells us a lot about many good men and women. Perhaps you
have heard of some of these. Who was Moses?"
"Was he nigger Mose's dad?" asked one of the girls.
"No, he lived many years ago, and was a great leader of the Hebrew
people. Did you ever hear of David?"
Profound silence.
"He was a mighty king of the Jews, and also a man who wrote many
beautiful songs. One of his songs millions of children know. It begins:
'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.' Have any of you ever heard
it?"
One or two raised their hands indicating they had heard it.
"Let us turn to it, the twenty-third psalm, and we shall read it
together."
This they did, and Viola said: "I want you children to learn this psalm
by heart and each one say it to me next Sunday. Will you do it?"
Every hand was raised in consent.
"The Bible is divided into two parts. Can any one tell me what they
are?"
"Yes'm, de front an' de back."
"They are called the Old Testament and the New Testament. The Old
Testament tells of God's dealings with his chosen people the Hebrews
(or Jews). It also points to the coming of God's Son into the world."
"The New Testament tells how God's Son Jesus Christ came upon earth to
be the Friend of little children and all people; how he lived a good
life, always helping those around him; how wicked men at last put him
to death, and his friends buried him. But the grave could not hold him,
and on the third day he arose from it, and soon went up to heaven. The
day of his birth is called Christmas. Have you heard of it?"
"Yes, teacher, we have all heard something about Christmas."
"Well, well learn more about it, for it is a sweet story, and next
Christmas the mission school will have a fine time, with songs, and
pieces to speak, and giving of presents. I hope my girls will take part
in this glad time."
Thus the minutes sped by while in simple words Viola tried to impart
some Bible truths to her willing scholars.
After closing exercises the school was dismissed.
The teachers remained a while to compare notes. George LeMonde reported
having had an interesting time with his boys. He said he spoke to them
about the sin of making moonshine whisky, and tried to set them against
the practice. He was surprised at the answer that was made to one of
his questions: "If any one were to ask you to take a drink of moonshine
whisky, what would you say?"
"Thank you," piped up a small boy.
The first session of the Mission Sunday School was considered a success
and those responsible for it were encouraged to continue the work.
Some change in the teaching force was necessary, for John Larkin's
duties as preacher would not permit him to serve as a permanent
teacher.
It is a pleasure to say that this school increased in numbers and
influence, and not only in its Sunday meeting, but also in its social
and educational work in the community, became a strong agent to uplift
the surrounding hill people in every way.
CHAPTER XI.
A Kentucky Feud.
Costello Nebeker after his conversion in his dance hall under the
ministry of Jasper Very continued to keep his tavern, but discarded the
sale and use of whisky upon his premises. He became known as the one
hotel keeper in all that region who did not furnish his customers
strong liquors. However, this action did not ruin his business; for,
while some of his patrons left him, others took their places, and he
was able still to supply all proper needs of the traveling public.
The winter had set in, and a great change was visible in the landscape.
The splendid forest trees had lost their leaves, and their giant limbs
were bare in the winter sunshine. A light snow covered the ground, and
in it could be seen the tracks of rabbit, squirrel, coon, opossum, and
occasionally a wild cat. In the distance the loud baying of hounds told
that some creatures of the wild were being pursued by their relentless
enemies.
Nature was at rest, and also the pioneer. His crops of corn, hay,
wheat, tobacco, and vegetables were all gathered and safely placed in
barns and storehouses. Little was to be done during the short winter
day but to attend to the stock, to do the "chores" about the house, and
perhaps to haul wood--backlogs and foresticks--to replenish the
ravenous fire in the great fireplace.
But what was a time of rest to the Kentucky farmer was a season of
special activity to the pioneer preacher. It was usually in winter that
"protracted meetings" were held. Next to camp meetings, they were the
great religious events of the year. The old saints anticipated with
keen relish the sermons, songs, prayers, exhortations, and altar
services. The young people were scarcely less interested, but from
mixed motives--partly religious and partly social. Ever since Adam
courted Eve under Eden's trees God's woods have been places for lovers
to woo in, and one of the best things connected with the "protracted
meeting" was the occasion it made of bringing young people into one
another's society and starting friendships which ripened into love and
matrimony.
Through the influence of Costello Nebeker a small church was built some
distance from his house in the noble forest. It was composed of logs
cut smooth with axes on two opposite sides. These logs were placed one
above the other, and the chinks between were closed up with mortar made
of clay and water. The roof was of heavy beams upon which were nailed
coarse clapboards. The building could boast of two small windows and a
single door. The inside arrangements were as simple as the outside. A
common wooden desk answered as a pulpit, and instead of pews wooden
benches were placed in front of the stand. A large cast-iron stove,
placed near the center of the room, gave heat when the weather was
cold. The building was called the "Bethlehem Church."
The "protracted meeting" was appointed to begin early in January. The
preachers who were to conduct it were Jasper Very, John Larkin, and
Ezra Thompson, an old minister, grizzled and toughened by time and
exposure.
This history has to do with the Sunday evening service which Jasper
Very was to conduct. It was a beautiful winter evening. The orb of day
had scarcely descended behind the unbroken line of forest trees in the
west ere the full moon appeared in the east, rising in majesty through
the trees. The silvery globe stretched from the base almost to the tops
of the trees. Slowly and serenely she climbed on her upward way, the
tree tops now marking the line of her diameter; then in a few minutes
she was free from their obstruction and hung above the earth a great,
shining ball, sending upon river, forest, plain, and plantation a light
so full and soft that one standing in it would become charmed by her
magical rays.
In the falling darkness it was easy to walk or ride to the evening
appointment. Because of the distance most of the people rode on
horseback. When they had all assembled, the sight was one to remember.
Horses were hitched everywhere to racks which had been placed near the
church, to branches of trees, and to small saplings.
Before the services began many of the people had gathered inside the
church, which was illuminated with a half dozen tallow candles that
tried their best to burn, but seemed discouraged by the attempt.
Outside men collected in groups and talked in low, earnest tones. Do
you ask what was the subject of their conversation? It was about the
sermon to be preached that night by Jasper Very.
A few days before a family feud in this neighborhood had broken out
afresh. It was the noted feud between the Wiles and Barker families.
This estrangement had occurred a quarter of a century before. It began
by some cattle of a former Wiles getting into the field of a settler
named Barker. Barker told Wiles to keep his live stock out of his land,
and Wiles replied by demanding that Barker should repair his rail
fences and mind his gates. Wiles was careless about his cattle and
Barker about his fences. So one night a lot of Wiles' cattle got into a
fine field of growing corn belonging to Barker, and ate as long as they
could chew the juicy food and trampled down the green stalks with
perfect indifference as to ownership. Early the next morning Barker saw
the devastation and the causes thereof. He walked over to Wiles'
plantation, and the two men quarreled, fought, and almost killed each
other.
This was the beginning of that celebrated Wiles-Barker feud which has
soiled the annals of that part of Kentucky. Its course was marked by
murders, assassinations, wounds, burning of buildings, and every injury
which cunning could devise and hate execute.
For a full year before this winter, by an unspoken agreement, the two
factions had ceased to quarrel. Violence had exhausted itself, for the
worst of men cannot give loose rein to their passions all the time.
But, though the wild beast of hatred and revenge was quiet, he was
neither dead nor changed into a lamb; he was really nursing and
strengthening his powers for more savage attacks. The occasion which
made him crouch, show his teeth, and leap forward with sudden and
terrible fury was a barn-raising on a settler's farm not far from
Costello's tavern. The Wiles and Barker families were both well
represented by young and middle-aged men. According to the custom of
the time, whisky was freely tendered to the workers and as freely
received.
All went well until late in the afternoon when the framework of the
barn had been put in place. The settlers had drunk unusual quantities
of their favorite beverage, and were ready for frolic or fight. Just
then Alan Barker, a scion of the noted family, belonging to that branch
living in Pigeon Creek, began expatiating on the charms, graces and
virtues of a fair lassie bearing the euphonious and patriotic name of
America Virginia Stubbins, and closed his eulogy by saying she was "de
sweetest, prettiest, best and likeliest gal in all Kentuck," and he
could "whip any man in de crowd who dared to deny it." Young "Buck"
Wiles took up the dare, partly because he despised the whole Barker
crew, partly because he had a tender feeling toward the same lass, and
was therefore jealous of Alan Barker, but mostly because whisky had
fired his brain. So he discounted Alan Barker's fervid descriptions,
and averred that the same America Virginia Stubbins possessed a homely
face and little sense.
This was the spark which exploded the magazine. Alan Barker, stung to
anger and madness, sprang upon "Buck" Wiles, and the two men clenched
in a desperate struggle. However, it was not the way of the times to
confine the settling of disputes to the "manly art" of bare fists.
There was a quicker method, and sooner than we can write it the men
having become separated in their wrestling, Alan Barker whipped out a
pistol and shot Wiles down. Then ensued an encounter horrible to
relate. The members of each family entered at once into the fight. Many
shots were exchanged; and after a few minutes, when the fighting was
over, either from lack of ammunition, or because, Indian fashion, those
who were not wounded had hidden behind the great trees to fight from
under cover, the sad results were apparent. Three of the Barker tribe
and two of the Wiles lay dead upon the ground, while five of the latter
and four of the former were lying in different positions, some
slightly, others desperately, wounded.
Thus the old feud was renewed, the old score opened, and the waters of
malice, revenge and hate which had been accumulating for months broke
forth afresh with devastating effect. Soon the news was heard in all
the surrounding hills and valleys. It stirred the dull and untrained
minds in many a mountain cabin; it was discussed between drinks in
rough taverns. Somehow the story sounded through the green Kentucky
woods until its echoes appeared in the daily papers of Cincinnati,
Philadelphia and New York.
Jasper Very declared he would make this battle between families the
subject of his sermon on Sunday evening, and it was this announcement
which threw the neighborhood into such a high state of excitement and
caused a crowd to attend the meeting which packed the small
meeting-house to suffocation and, despite the cold weather, caused it
to overflow into the surrounding yard.
Sam Wiles was there, and his impish shadow, Zibe Turner, and Long Tom,
and the rest of his cronies. Sam Wiles' family was a part of that large
Wiles faction which warred with the Barkers, but Sam was not present at
the barn-raising. He was only fourth cousin to the Wiles men who were
killed, but felt himself bound with the rest of his kin to avenge their
death. Hence he was intensely interested to know how the preacher would
treat his subject. On account of the crowd he sat a little within the
doorway, while the monster dwarf contented himself with a position just
outside, where his ghoulish and malignant face was lighted up by candle
rays and moonbeams combined.
Jasper Very took for his text, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Thus he
began: "Hearers and friends, it is a sad fact that the first man born
into the world, Cain, was a murderer, and the second man born of woman
was murdered. Cain killed his brother Abel. Ever since that day this
earth has been reddened with human blood. It has defiled every mountain
and stained every plain, it has polluted the waters of every lake and
river, and has reddened the very ocean. Murder's bloody hand, nerved by
all the worst passions of man, has struck down, not only the guilty,
but also the innocent, the weak and helpless. It is a perversion of the
Creator's intention regarding mankind. He made men to dwell in peace
and happiness. He put the solitary in families that each member might
contribute to the well-being of the whole. Every man is his brother's
keeper. He is expected to do him good and not harm. If my brother is
weak, I must try to be his strength. If he is in sorrow, I must comfort
him; if needy, help him with my substance; if sick, I must minister
unto him. By so doing I shall receive both the approval of my
conscience, and the Master's reward: 'Well done, good and faithful
servant.'
"Back of the act of murder is its motive. It is formed in the mind
before it is committed by the hand. It invariably springs from the
baser passions of man--hate, malice, jealousy, revenge. Our Bible
traces it to its seat. It declares: 'Whosoever hateth his brother is a
murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in
him.' It was this bad feeling of hate which made Cain kill his brother
Abel."
The preacher then passed on to say: "You all know that different parts
of our beautiful State of Kentucky have been disgraced by family feuds
which have resulted in many crimes against God and man, including
murder. In our own neighborhood at this time of the year when we should
be making fresh resolutions of love to God and our fellows, young men
have shot one another down in a useless quarrel, a number of families
are mourning the loss of sons and brothers, and other men are made
cripples for life by ugly wounds."
Then, raising his voice until it could be heard by the remotest lounger
at the horserails he thundered: "What was the cause of this recent
killing, and of the broils, fights, and contentions in our midst?
Whisky. This is the curse of Kentucky. It is the demon which fires the
blood and pulls the trigger. In days when the red men roamed these
forests and hunted abundant game so many battles were fought among
themselves that this fair land received that dreadful name, 'The Dark
and Bloody Ground,' and now you are doing all in your power to
perpetuate this name. You in this audience who make or sell liquor,
either legally or illegally, 'have made a covenant with death, and with
hell are at agreement.' How can you escape the wrath of God? The voice
of these slain men's blood cries unto heaven from the ground. The gray
hairs of their parents will go down in sorrow to the grave for them."
His mood and voice then changed, and in softer tones he pleaded with
them to turn from the evil of their ways and live. He assured them that
no drunkard nor drunkard-maker could inherit the kingdom of God, that a
sure woe would rest upon him who putteth the bottle to his neighbor's
lips, and that no good could finally come out of this bad business. He
told them that they could not turn from their evil ways in their own
strength; but God had laid strength upon One who was mighty to save and
strong to deliver from every weakness and temptation, even his only
begotten Son, Jesus Christ.
His eyes filled with tears and his voice shook with emotion as he gave
an invitation to all to forsake their sins and return unto God in that
sweetest welcome to repent that human ears have heard: "Come unto me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
Almost overcome by his feelings, Jasper Very sat down, but instantly
John Larkin arose and gave out that comforting invitation hymn:
"Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love, and power.
He is able,
He is willing, doubt no more."
He asked all those who wanted to repent of their sins and to seek
pardon and peace to come forward to the altar while the congregation
stood and sang that hymn.
The result was astonishing. In spite of the crowded condition of the
room men and women pushed their way to the wooden benches called an
"altar," and with tears and groans sought forgiveness. Decisions were
made that night as lasting as eternity. Many a hardened backwoods
sinner there forever forsook his evil ways and became an order-loving
and respectable citizen, helping to form that civilization of which the
Kentucky of today is so proud. Several moonshiners were convicted of
the iniquity of their business, and gave up illicit distilling and
their other bad practices. Among the rest was Long Tom. He sought the
Lord with the simplicity of a little child. As he made no reservations,
but at once confessed all his evil deeds, and was both wise and simple
enough to accept Christ at his own terms of full surrender and
childlike faith, he soon found pardon and peace. While he bowed at the
altar the people sang "Jesus Lover of My Soul," and its sentiments
comforted the sobbing man. The clearest voice which led in this hymn
was that of Viola LeMonde.
At a testimony meeting a short time after he told of his experience:
"Friends, I war a mighty ignorant feller when I come for'ard to that
mourner's bench. I had not said a prayer for twenty years. I did not
know how to begin. Then I thought of a prayer my mother larned me when
I war a little chap. So I began saying, 'Our Father, who art in
heaven,' and before I got through I war saved."
But while some were convicted of the error of their ways at that
meeting, others were hardened; for such a meeting is either a savior of
life unto life, or a savior of death unto death. Sam Wiles sat, as we
have said, near the open door. During the first part of the discourse
he followed the preacher closely and calmly; but when Jasper Very
entered upon his philippic against the moonshiners in particular, an
awful struggle began in Wiles' heart. God's Spirit acted strongly upon
him, convincing his judgment that all the preacher said was true, that
the whole business was bad from beginning to end, and that now, after
he had such proofs among his own kin that death followed in its wake,
he should forever abandon it. For a while it seemed as though his proud
heart would yield, but there were tremendous influences on the other
side. There was the love of his free and easy life which must be put in
the scale. If he changed about he must endure the scoffs and reproaches
of his former companions. Added to these was the awful tug of the
habits and inclinations of his present life, and beyond all this was
the personal temptation of the evil one whispering in his soul not to
yield. If he did yield, said the tempter, he would soon fall away, and
that would be worse than not to start at all.
Thus the crucial battle of his life was fought while Wiles sat in that
little church. Such a struggle comes into many a life. Angels must look
upon it with the deepest interest and attention. The crisis may arrive
at church or at home, on the high sea or on the land, in a storied
mansion or in a little cottage, at the midnight hour or in the open
day--the place or time counts for little, but the result is as wide as
eternity.
This hour was propitious for Sam Wiles. A proper choice would have
revolutionized his character, would have gladdened the angels in
heaven, and written his name deep in the "Book of Life." But alas!
alas! before the sermon was ended he had resisted God's Holy Spirit,
and, instead of one devil, seven devils had entered into his soul. A
hard expression spread over his face, his eyes flashed with a dangerous
fire, and he cast a look of defiance and contempt upon the speaker that
(so subtle, strong, and swift are the laws of mind) Very, seeing it,
would have been confused and perhaps overcome in his discourse if the
shield of Almighty God had not protected him.
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