James Hall

Fragments of County History

By Mrs. John C. Berry

I am proud of the fact that I am the daughter and granddaughter of a pioneer.

My grandfather, James Hall, who was born in Rutherford County, N.C., emigrated to
Illinois, and settled on a claim near Plainview about the year 1820. His father, William Hall, had
preceded him several years before and had established his family in Madison county near the
present site of Collinsville. This old gentleman had been a brave soldier in the war of the
Revolution and on account of this honor was called, "Revolutionary Billy." He died in 1845 and
was buried on the old farm where he had lived so many years.

At the time my grandfather settled in Macoupin county, which was long before the
county was organized, my father was about ten years old. He grew up with the county and
used to tell us interesting stories of his boyhood days. He was a native of North Carolina, and,
with his brothers and sisters, made the long journey in a covered wagon to Illinois. I have only
an indistinct memory of my grandfather but remember his peculiarities more vividly than
anything else concerning him. Like his father, he was an abolitionist. We had seen too much of
the cruelty of tyrannical masters to uphold the base principles of slavery.

One of the principal themes of conversation among his children was the parting
incident of his removal from North Carolina. He was about ready to start on his long journey to
Illinois and went over to a neighbor's plantation to say goodbye. It was Sunday and the family
had gone to church while the colored cook was taking a form of punishment common in those
days, being tied up by the thumbs. She was standing on tip toe to keep her thumbs from being
pulled out, groaning with pain. My grandfather quickly released her, then waited for the planter
to come home and thrashed him within an inch of his life. This was his goodbye and it probably
hastened his departure from the neighborhood. But he never forgot nor regretted his farewell to
the South. He repeated to his children the story, chuckling over it in great glee.

Grandfather was married four times, his first wife being Mary Walker, my father's
mother. She bore the hardships of pioneer life and finally succumbed to malaria, which infected
the district where they lived, leaving a family of eight children. His second wife was Polly
Booton, whom he married at Edwardsville May 17, 1835. She was of good family and lived near
Dorchester where some of her descendants still reside. This second grandmother of ours did
not live long and her successor was Elizabeth Davis, who died leaving one daughter who
afterward became the wife of Lee Brown of Shaw's Point. The fourth and last wife was Mary
Irvin of Mount Vernon who lived with the old gentleman until his death. This record is all
found in the county clerk's office at Edwardsville where every one went for marriage licenses
and land grants.

Many amusing anecdotes are told of my grandfather's courtships. When he was ready
to look around for a wife he mounted his old mare, "Shirk," (called so because she was so lazy)
and started out on a tour of the country. The first house he came to he would stop and ask if
any one lived there who wanted to marry. If the answer was in the affirmative he would
dismount, go in and make arrangements for the wedding. He said he had no time for any
"foolishness" in such business and we were told that all of his wives were chosen in that way
except the first, which of course was a love affair.

In his old age he came to live with us and my mother took care of him. He was a queer
old man who seldom smiled but he had an infinite fund of humor. A picture of him sitting by the
fire, wrapped in a bed quilt, with his feet bare, is one I recall most vividly. As little children we
danced about the floor and disturbed him; so he held a pin between his toes to frighten us if we
came too near. We did not always see the smile on his face which he tried to hide from us and
were often awed by his stern ways. I used to hope that when he died and went to heaven, the
angels would stick pins in him.

The old gentleman had one thing he treasured more than all others. It was his "back
scratcher." This was an improvised flesh brush made of a corn cob with a long handle in one
end. This cob he singed over the blaze to make it rough and every night he used it to scratch
his back. We kept it over the mantel and if any one dared to meddle with it he would "blast
'em" for hours.

These memories of a queer old, dear old man are touched with deep humor and pathos.
He was a worthy, kind and eccentric grandfather whom we revered. In his later years he owned
a small farm of ten acres about two miles south of Carlinville where he died in 1851. His grave is
there.

They settled on a claim where Macoupin station now stands and where the family
endured many hardships. As a small boy, my father had to go barefoot in winter, living in a log
cabin where Indians sometimes came to the door. They were of the Sac, Osage, and
Pottawatomy tribes and generally friendly. The timber abounded in wild game and father of ten
assisted in the killing of bears. He hauled huge back logs for the fireplace which threw out a
cheerful blaze over the puncheon floor at night. Instead of lamps they had tallow candles, or
small crude lights made of a wick in a cup of lard. As there were few books in those days, and
nothing to read they had little use for lights in the evening. I have heard father tell of hearing
the wolves howl near their cabin at night and sometimes the shriek of a panther. He was a brave
boy and became a brave man.

The country was in an unsettled condition and few comforts were to be had. In time
log houses were built and the timber cleared where other settlers made their homes. School
houses began to appear and once in a while some man came along who could teach reading,
writing and arithmetic. My father's education was limited but he developed a splendid faculty
for business and if he had had opportunities, would have made his mark in the world.

On April 20, 1832 he enlisted, under Captain Harris, in the Black Hawk war. He served
until May 27th of that year and was honorably discharged. I have a picture in my possession
which he drew of the battlefield at Stillman's Run, the day after the fight. It is a souvenir greatly
treasured. And well do I remember his skill with the violin. The music of the old fiddle shall
never be forgotten. Its sweet strains have floated down through the years, recalling memories
of him who has long since passed away.

printed in the Macoupin County Enquirer Nov 12, 1936.