The Adventures of Two Alabama Boys:
Electronic Edition.
Crumpton, Hezekiah John, b. 1828
Crumpton,
Washington Bryan, 1842-1926
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LC Subject Headings:
- Crumpton, H. J. (Hezekiah John), b. 1828.
-
- Crumpton, Washington Bryan, 1842-1926.
-
- Overland journeys to the Pacific.
-
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives, Confederate.
-
- California -- Gold discoveries.
-
- California -- Description and travel.
-
1998-10-07,
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Elizabeth Novak
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- 1998-09-09,
Elizabeth Novak
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The Adventures of Two
Alabama Boys
In Three Sections
By
H. J. and W. B. Crumpton
Part One
The Adventures of Dr. H. J. Crumpton, of
Piedmont, California, in his efforts to reach
the Gold Fields in 1849
Part Two
The Adventures of Rev. W. B. Crumpton, going
to and returning from California, including his
Lecture, "The Original Tramp, or How a Boy
Got through the Lines to the Confederacy"
Part Three
To California and Back after a Lapse of
Forty Years
Montgomery, Ala.
The Paragon Press
1912
Copyright 1912 by W. B. Crumpton
Printed at the Paragon Press
Page 5
Dedication
We dedicate the little booklet to our children. Maybe others will be interested also. We are certain there are important lessons here for young people, who are in earnest. For the frivolous and thoughtless there is nothing.
"The Boys."
Page 7
Foreword. THE ADVENTURES OF TWO ALABAMA BOYS was prepared some years ago with the view of putting it in book form; but "The Boys" have been so very busy the publication has been delayed.
SECTION ONE contains the adventures of Dr. H. J. Crumpton, a native of Wilcox county, but since '49 a citizen of California, now residing on a beautiful spot in Piedmont, a suburb of the city of Oakland.
These incidents which he relates, his baby brother, the writer of these lines, heard when he was a scrap of a boy. They made a profound impression on his youthful mind, and he has ever cherished the hope that some day he might see them in print. They were prepared
Page 8
at my earnest solicitation. I feel sure it was no easy task to dig up from memory almost forgotten incidents and put them in shape for the reader. At this writing, though he is advanced in years, past eighty-four, the good wife writes: "He is smart and active as ever - walks fifteen miles and it doesn't feaze him."
One of the most noted buildings in San Francisco is that of the Society of California Pioneers, of which Society he is an honored member and a Vice-President. His opinion of politics one can discover by a letter to the writer. He says: "I am forced to the conclusion, after serving in the Legislature of my adopted State several terms and in a local municipality, that politics is a filthy pool." An opinion shared by a good many others. Some are said to be born politicians; but I am sure none were born in the Crumpton family. Every one of the name I have ever known, felt great interest in all public questions and had opinions about them, but office seeking has not been to their liking.
A family trait is, an undying love for the old haunts. This caused the old
Page 9
Forty Niner, when he possessed the means to do so, to purchase the old farm of his father, fulfilling in part, no doubt, a dream of his youthful days.
Though in the land of the enemy he was loyal to the South during the war between the States, proving his faith by his works when he invested much of his means in Confederate Bonds. The Confederacy failing, of course this was a clear loss to him. Just at the breaking out of the Civil War, he returned to California to look after his interests there and to see what had become of me. If the reader will turn to my letters which follow, he will get the connection.
He failed to tell a most interesting event in his history: When a miner, he often took on his knee a wee-bit of a girl, Mattie by name, the daughter of William Jack, a stury old Scotch-Irishman, from Beloit, Wis. She called him "sweetheart," and he often took her pledge to be his wife some day. Sure enough, the old bachelor waited, and little Mattie has been for many years the mistress of his home. In one
Page 10
of the most cozy cottages of Sausalito, nestling against the mountain, with the Bay and the City of San Francisco at its front, it was my pleasure to visit the little family some years ago. It had been forty years since I had seen my brother. In her father's home in 1862, near Beloit, I had spent two months delightfully, while stealthily preparing to make my way through the lines to the Confederacy. I know it was in his heart to tell of his wife and his charming daughter, Clara, the light and joy of the home; but the burden of writing was too much, and abruptly he gave up the job.
I am glad indeed the Adventures begin with something of the family history. He is the only member of the family remaining who knows anything about it (there are only two of us now). I am mortified that I failed to find out some of the facts from my father, who was so long with me in his old age.
My brother, after his adventurous life in the mines, served his adopted State in the Legislature and later settled down, after graduation, to the practice
Page 11
of medicine, a profession he seemed to have a liking for from his boyhood. At this writing he is a citizen of Piedmont, California. He is hale and hearty and says that in 1915, when the Panama Canal is opened, he is going to visit the States again and bring his wife. Every foot of the route across the Isthmus will be familiar, as he crossed it several times, one time partly on foot, before the railroad was completed.
W. B. CRUMPTON.
Montgomery, Ala.
Page 13
Part One
By H. J. Crumpton
The Adventures of Dr. H. J. Crumpton
of Piedmont, California, in his efforts to
reach the Gold Fields in 1849
Recollections of the family life; Arrival in Alabama; Moves to town; Changes vocation; Becomes a printer; The Mexican War; Starts on his wanderings; The gold excitement; Starts for the Far West; New acquaintances; Another start West; ,Strikes out all alone; A plunge in the overflow; Falls in with the military; Strikes hands with old friends; Food scarce; Confronted by Indians; Alone again; Reaches California; Loses his oxen; In God's country at last; Gets a job; Takes sail; Hears sad tidings; No pay for services; At Oro City; In the mines; At rough-and-ready; Starts back home; In a wreck; On the Panama; In New Orleans; Finds his brother; Detained in Mobile; Business complications; Back to the mines; Returns to Alabama; Opinion about slavery.
Page 15
Part One MY DEAR Brother Wash: You asked me to prepare some notes on the wanderings of an Alabama Boy. To do this from memory after such a lapse of time will be somewhat inaccurate and prosy, I fear.
Mary, Richard Alexander, Maranda
Ann, Henry Thomas, Hezekiah John,
(myself, born Sept. 18, 1828), and
William Zachariah; the balance of the ten
children, afterwards born in Alabama
were James Henderson, Martha Matilda,
Jane Eliza, and Washington Bryan,
yourself, the baby. All have now passed
into the life beyond except you and me.
In Walterboro our father developed
into something of a plunger in the
financial world; made several successful
deals, later formed a partnership - the
other fellow furnishing experience, our
progenitor the "dough." They invested
in the purchase and driving of cattle
to supply the Charleston beef market.
They succeeded well, always re-investing
original capital and profit in another
and bigger lot, finally meeting a
calamity by the drowning of the whole
herd in attempting to cross a swollen
stream, Broad River, perhaps at its
mouth and perhaps from not knowing
of the ebb and flow of the tide, though
living within forty miles of the coast.
With a feeling of disgust, following this
financial collapse, our father sought new
environment, and by the aid of kins folk
loaded up family and household belongings
in 1832 and struck out through the
wilderness for Alabama, across Georgia
through the Chickasaw and Choctaw nations,
before the removal of those and
other friendly tribes was completed to
the territory now forming part of the
State of Oklahoma.
a little hamlet in Lowndes
county. One thing about our stay there
is vividly remembered. A dear, good old
soul, named Ingram, was my school
teacher in the log-cabin school house.
He didn't know much and didn't try to
fool anybody; but he was a great stickler
for what he called "etiket" - was
bent on teaching his children good manners.
Just about all of Friday was devoted
to this stunt. It was quite a relief,
after we got rid of our bashfulness.
The previous four days, twelve hours
each, with our prosy studies, put us in
good shape for a change on Friday.
The dear old fellow managed to work
in more or less change of program from
time to time; but one inflexible feature
was to send one of the girls out of one
of the side doors, then derail some boy
to go out the other, to escort her back
and introduce her to each one of the
whole school, an ordeal to which every
boy and girl had to be subjected. Some
regarded this as a hardship, but to this
degenerate son of Adam 'twas always
a roaring farce and as good as a circus!
Our family about this time came into
possession of quite an inheritance,
which was added to the proceeds from
sale of the effects at Cahaba, and invested
in a fine body of land, about the
junction of Grindstone and Bear Creeks,
in Wilcox county. Our charming new
home was built on high ground on Dogwood
Level, a little way from the farm,
where we had a spring of fine water
and plenty of good air. By this time
three of us boys were big enough
to work and strong, willing workers
we were. With no experience
and not always guided in our
farming, we got along better than
neighbors to the manner born, and were
learning and doing fairly well. It was
perhaps the mistake of a lifetime to
accept an offer to sell the whole outfit,
at figures far in advance of cost or
apparent present value, to people who
knew a good thing when they saw it -
the Maxwells - a noble acquisition to
that then border settlement.
now Camden, and went into the
hotel business. We furnished a good
table, clean house, clean beds, was popular
and crowded from the start - lots
of old family friends from far and near,
called for entertaining whom it would
have been an outrage on Southern hospitality
to tender, or accept compensation.
In this way all profits were
"chawed up" - a mighty poor way to
run a hotel. But we older boys were
pretty good hustlers, earned enough to
help along, tiding over and in the
education of the younger children.
My first stunt in that direction was
starting an express and stage line. Carried
passengers and freight between our
town and Bridgeport, nearest landing
on the Alabama River. My outfit was
a one-horse affair with a highly prized
annex - an undersized black cur, "Beaver,"
- worthless in the estimation of
everyone, other than his affectionate
owner.
About this time, two enterprising
young men from New England started
a general store at the landing. On a
return trip from the East to buy goods,
one of them brought with him a large
Newfoundland dog - the first one in
those parts, which he "sicked" onto
Beaver. Owing to the difference in size,
results were quick and one-sided. Seeing
me crying in affectionate, helpless
distress, the fellow had the heartless bad
taste to exultingly ask: "What do you
think of that, young man?" My response
between sobs was: "You, a big
man, made a big dog lick a little boy's
little dog. By and by, I will be as big
as you and will then do to you what has
been done today to my Beaver." Years
afterwards, when, perhaps, as the first
successful Califorian
to return, the people
of dear old Camden tendered me
quite an ovation, he of the dog fight,
among them, was loud in expressing
welcome and personal admiration, which
made it decidly
bad taste in me to allude
to the old thing, by saying: "If now
the attempt was made to execute the
promised retaliation, it would show a
malicious, revengeful spirit, without in
any way changing what occurred in the
long ago, so please consider the incident
closed," and so it was with a snap.
lived there, and thus saved the keep of
boy and horse in Cahaba.
With an ambition to do faithful and
efficient service, reckless risks were
some times taken. I once got into Flat
Creek, when the old worn-out mule was
unable to stem the stiff current. We
were carried down stream toward the
river not far away. A friendly
over-hanging grape-vine gave me a stopping
place and not far below the mule lodged
in a submerged tree-top. My lusty yells
brought the good Samaritan. When
about to swim out to rescue me, he was
disgusted when told to first save the
mule and mail. This he did in good
shape; meantime, I did my own
swimming. The water was emptied out of
the mail bag, the bag thrown across the
saddle, the mule mounted, and away we
went for a bridge several miles up the
stream. Maybe it was not the same
old mule which about a year afterwards
laid down and died suddenly, some eight
miles from our terminal point, Cahaba.
Slinging saddle, bridle, and mail bag
over my shoulder, the balance of the
trip was made on foot and the mail delivered
on time. When next pay day
came around, the old contractor placed
his own value on the mule and took same
out of my wages. My job was thrown
up immediately and suit commenced for
the amount due, but tiring of the law's
delay, the case was allowed to lapse,
and the wretch allowed the comfort of
having beaten a boy out of hard earned
wages. Doubtless he has long since
passed to the beyond. He was outwardly
a devout and sanctimonious man; if
one were sure he is now enjoying a
state of heavenly bliss, it would more
than justify a belief in universal salvation.
in hours stolen from sleep or out-door
exercise and sunshine.
I paid my way by working between
times in a printing office. There I
remained for two years and made fine
progress. I was still under age, and
on some account I concluded there would
be but little honor in attaining a degree
from that school, so I determined
for a time to suspend further efforts
in that direction. I was growing up
thin and cadaverous looking, longing
for out-door life, so I left Memphis with
a view of joining brother Richard on the
Rio Grande frontier. Upon my arrival
at New Orleans, May 1848, peace was
declared with Mexico. Concluding that
our brothers and all other American
troops would come home soon, I returned
to our home in Camden. William
came before a great while, but Richard
wrote he had joined a Major Graham's
party soon to leave the Rio Grande
frontier to take possession of this
recently acquired territory, California,
as a part of the rich spoils of war. Upon
learning this, my purpose was at once
declared to join him as soon as possible,
though having next to nothing financially
to go on. This was before the finding of gold
there had been announced to us. A man, Kilpatrick by
name, from Clark county, had been
quite sick in Camden, under treatment
of Dr. Bryant. More as a nurse than a
half-baked doctor, he had been cared for
by me also, for which there was quite a
sum due. Announcing to him my purpose,
and asking payment for amount
due, he, like others, was shocked at so
desperate an undertaking, but said my
claim would be paid as soon as he could
obtain money from home. This emergency
was soon bridged over by his giving
me a check on his folks for the
amount.
The Kilpatricks treated me like a
prince, paid me liberally for services
to afflicted relative, urged me to stay
with them longer, and bade me
Godspeed in my desperate undertaking.
Resuming my tramp, it was, not far to
the Tombigbee, where a steamboat
picked me up and in due time, landed me
in Mobile, where my first care was to
hunt up my old saddle-bags. I forgot
to pay the consignee, who perhaps
thought me a rich planter's son whose
cotton crop he hoped to handle later on.
appearance of being an undersized country
boy; but everybody soon saw a quick
willingness to do diligently any task
given me. 'Twas soon my good fortune
to fall in with John F. Wheeler, an old
Georgian, who had married a Cherokee
- an intelligent, educated woman. They
had a number of children, mostly girls,
all well behaved. He owned the Fort
Smith Herald, put me to work, took me
into his family, a delightful, cheerful
home. When spring opened, mostly
through him, terms were made for my
transportation with dear old Charley
Hudspeth, who showed the affection of
a father for his son.
Sante Fe, Albuquerque, thence down the
Rio Grande to near El Paso, thence to
Tucson, to the Pimo villages, down the
Gila to the Colorado, where Fort Yuma
now is, thence across the Great American
Desert, and so through arable California
to Los Angeles, to San Pedro,
thence by Barque Hector, by sea, to San
Francisco.
Some little distance from Ft. Smith,
our route of travel was mostly through
low valley lands with a number of
rather large streams, with considerable
rain, hence our progress was rather
slow. After going about 150 miles, my
leg became seriously injured from a
horse floundering in the mud. This injury
in such surroundings grew rapidly
more serious. Two reputable medical
men in the train gave me kind treatment
and rather gloomy prognostications,
hinting at the possibilities of amputation.
Though they knew no more
than this half-baked doctor, everything
tended to make me despondent.
Just then a young man, whose wealthy
father lived in Ft. Smith, and who knew
of the friendship of old John Wheeler
and family for me, said: "Young fellow,
you are in a bad fix. You had
better return and let those Wheeler girls
and their mother take care of you and
you'll soon be as good as new - don't
say you can't stand the trip - you can
ride horse-back. There is one of my
best horses, saddle, bridle and lariat;
take them and deliver them to my father
at Ft. Smith." Others thought well of
this scheme, which rekindled a tender
feeling for one of the half-breed Cherokee
girls and made me feel homesick.
So it did not take much persuasion to
start me on the back out trip, dear old
Charlie Hudspeth having refunded all
I had paid him.
Soon afterwards I was taken in for
the night by a Choctaw family. Though
full blooded Indians, they were intelligent,
well-to-do people, who treated me
with royal hospitality. I made myself
solid with them by saying my people
knew their's well and were always on
friendly terms with them before removal
from Southern States. When they
were told of my having lived with the
Wheeler family, though the latter were
Cherokees, they made me feel very much
at home. There was a continuous rain
and they prevailed on me to remain until
its subsidence - which was not for
several days - and had the effect to overflow
a large stream nearby. Remembering
some of my bad luck in high water
when a mail carrier, I determined not
to take any chances now happy indeed
in having so good a stopping place.
Cleanliness and rest worked wonders in
my injured leg within the few days
thus waterbound.
This pack train turned out to be a
part of a large wagon train, several days
in advance of them, whom, from the description,
I knew were traveling near
my old party. When it came to paying
the Indians for their arduous ferry job,
the packers did not have ready money
enough and, like so many others when
dealing with Indians, did not know the
importance of being civil. The Indians
were very indignant and did not believe
that they were short of the ready.
Things began to look serious.
family with whom I had been stopping
would accept no compensation for their
kindness to me, so I bade them an
affectionate adieu and departed.
In due time, traveling with the packers,
we overtook their wagon train; the
amount due me was promptly repaid.
My own old party was reported several
days ahead. We were then beyond low,
swampy land, onto broad, open plains
on the border of the Kiowas, Comanches,
and other warlike tribes of Indians.
We were at a point where most
of the teams had crossed from the
South to the North side of the
Canadian river.
anxious days. During the afternoon of
the third day, several shallow ponds of
water were crossed, some a quarter of
a mile in extent, but only a few inches
deep.
A little after dark, I found quite a
beaten track, showing a large number
of wagons had recently passed; felt
somewhat relieved, hoping soon to fall
in with some one.
The horse was out in the current and
neighed pitifully for help. Swimming
out to him and catching the bridle, we
successfully landed on the same side we
started in. Although it was a cool evening,
instead of having my only coat on,
it hung carelessly on the horn of the
saddle, and my Alabama saddle bags
and a pair of blankets were thrown
loosely across the saddle with some
provisions. All these floated down the
river. With the lariat, which had fortunately
been saved, the horse was picketed
on the leeside of a bunch of willows.
Covered with the wet saddle blanket, he
fared fairly well in the luxuriant grass.
To save myself from freezing, I cut with
my big jack-knife a lot of willow twigs,
and piled them in a heap. Wiggling
myself into the center of this, I found
a perfect shield from the raw wind and
never had a more comfortable, sound
sleep all night.
I was disgusted with myself in the
morning to discover this was the crossing
place of the Canadian river of the
emigrants who had been traveling up
the North side and that when striking
their road the night before, 'twas my
fate to take the wrong end and was
on the back track to Fort Smith, when
entering the river.
was received with surprise and
great enthusiasm. The horse and outfit
was returned to his owner and dear
old Charlie Hudspeth treated me as a
returned lost son, sound and well every
way, and fully reinstated me as one of
the party. I was a general chore boy,
looking up camping sites, starting fires,
procuring wood and water, driving
team, or looking out for stock; most of
the time traveled on foot. While a mail
carrier, I had learned to ride and stay
on most any kind of a "critter." So
while enroute, I rode everything placed
in my charge, steer, cow, mule or bronco,
thus I had many a lift when tired of
tramping.
We passed through safely the many
warlike tribes before reaching New
Mexico. By the time we reached Santa
Fe, we realized it would take a much
longer time to make the trip clear across
than at first anticipated and that provisions
would be short.
able to replenish by purchase from
the Mexicans - only in stinted quantities.
We were disappointed also in
seeing but few buffaloes, from which
source we had expected to get all the
additional meat we might require. At
that time there were still millions roaming
the plains. Their habit was to start
from Canada at the approach of winter,
feeding Southward, wintering in Northern
Texas, Mexico and Indian Territory,
starting Northward, as spring approached,
back to their Northern feeding grounds.
In traveling down the Great Rio
Grande Valley, a very rich country
from Albuquerque to near El
Paso, we were some times able
to buy beans. Further on we
found an abundance of muskeet - a
wild locust which bore a sort of bean,
fine food for man or beast. But we had
to live on restricted rations for a long
time. It was an unwritten law that
women and children should eat all they
wanted. Being a stunted, undersized
boy, just taking on new growth,
consequently requiring more than a fully
developed man, it was a particular hardship
not to be let in as a juvenile with
the women. All of us soured. We grew
crabbed and cross, forgetting what the
Good Book says: "A soft answer turneth
away wrath." There were bickerings
and quarrels and bloodshed.
Presuming on our escape from Indian
depredations, we began to grow careless.
After leaving the Rio Grande Valley, we
camped one night without water, - disappointed
in not reaching the Rio Mimbles.
Next morning we started early
without breakfast. Nearly every one
on horse-back shoved out ahead. Soon
there was a line of timber in sight,
where we felt sure there was water.
Having a small band of cattle under
my charge, one of them was mounted,
and the band crowded ahead. In a little
while I was some distance ahead of
the train of wagons when, as if springing
out of the ground, three Apache
Indians, splendidly mounted, confronted
me.
perhaps, than 100 pounds, my upper
most thought was, how easy for him to
life
me across his saddle and, with his
comrades, fly away to the mountains
and have a war dance while burning
me at the stake. All this while he was
telling how good he thought me.
To my surprise the invitation was accepted,
and we took up the line of march
for camp, one of the yellow devils in
the rear and one on each side of the
little band of cattle and the badly scared
boy who kept jabbering away, afraid to
stop lest his knees would give way.
They acted on my suggestion to go out
and get some horses and mules and
bring them in, as we wanted some and
would give good prices.
same mountain and doubtless were joined
by my entertainers with a drove of
stock stolen from the Mexicans; but a
band of our troops followed and recovered
the stock after a sharp fight. These
border tribes had for all time gone on
such forays according to their own
sweet will and got away with the spoils
before the poor Mexicans got ready to
hit back. Through our late acquisition
of territory, these Mexicans received
protection from our troops. This the
Indians resented, regarding the border
settlements as their special preserves,
the engagement referred to being the
commencement of an interminable war.
Our party escaped without trouble, but
those behind us and poor Mexicans by
the score were destroyed before the almost
annihilation of all these border
tribes.
where we found things more tolerable
than anticipated. A large area of the
so-called desert is far below the sea-level
and there had been a vast inflow of
fresh water the past season from the
great Colorado river. A rank growth
of green grass and other vegetation
awaited our coming and deep pools
furnished an abundance of pure, cool water.
We at last reached settlements where
we could replenish our stores and where
there was plenty of game.
made of unbolted flour, a repast fit to
set before a king. That layout was set
before me and the void from a forty-eight
hours' fast was soon filled. The
boys stared at the almost empty pail,
being told 'twas the first eaten since
we parted two days before.
We now leisurely moved along and
reached Los Angeles in due time, where
our party broke up. Some sold off their
stock; others drove on, or packed
through to the southern gold fields;
others took shipping for San Francisco.
Having nothing to go farther on, it was
necessary for me to find work. My
employer was old Abel Stearnes, an old
settler, a Scotchman, who had married
into a noble Castilian family. He was
well-to-do, a merchant. When asked
what I could do, I replied: "0, anything."
"Which means you are trained
to nothing!" was his reply. I said:
"Not exactly, I am a doctor." With a
grunt he mumbled out "You are a h -
of a looking doctor!"
me, no one else at the table. 'Twas a
magnificent spread, fit to set before
royalty. Knowing very little about liquor
of any sort, I did not understand the
Don, when he said in setting a well-filled
decanter before me: "Here is
some fine old dry Sherry; help yourself,
it won't hurt you." To verify his last
assertion, he poured out a goblet full
and tossed it down, smacked his lips,
then poured out another for me, which
was disposed of as per his request, to
discover that there was nothing dry
about the transaction except the half-starved
immigrant. The servants were
amazed, and in a quiet way, had fun
among themselves to see the amount of
provender absorbed, washed down by
the dry liquid condiment. The wit of
their party, a bright Indian girl, said
in Spanish: "He is little and long with
big room inside." They had their own
fun, assuming my ignorance of the
language, as they spoke in Spanish.
This was the commencement of a pleasant
stay with the family, as one of them.
After a good clean-up and fresh raiment
obtained, I did not shovel and pick
with the peon any more. I was placed
apparently on waiting orders at fair
wages while apparently the old Don
sized me up. Later on he was taken
aback when he found that my purpose
was to reach San Francisco as soon as
possible. I hoped by being there to be
sooner placed in communication with
Brother Richard. He then told me he
had purposed placing me in his large
mercantile establishment, believing the
young immigrant to be a trustworthy
and competent employee, he wanted me
to abandon all thought of San Francisco
and the mines, by remaining with
him, as more likely to trace our Brother
from that point. When told that it was
too late, that passage for San Francisco
had already been secured on the Barque
Hector, then at San Pedro, some twenty
miles from Los Angeles, he paid me
liberally for my services, gave me a fine
pair of Mexican blankets and provisions
for the trip.
to Don Abel, I had met in Los
Angeles the owner of the barque, who
offered to take me up to San Francisco
on credit for part or all of the passage
money. At the port of San Pedro, there
were so many wanting to go that it was
beyond the legal limit. All had to sign
papers securing the owner against
prosecution for violating the law. The
owner turned out to be Capt. Alex Bell,
brother to Col. Minter's wife, then living
on Mush Creek, near Pleasant Hill.
in Alabama.
up quite a lot of money by his passengers,
had bought a lot of produce on
speculation, jerked beef, dried grapes
and corn in the ear. Upon arrival in
San Francisco and discharging the
passengers, he bought two corn shellers,
the only such machines on the coast, and
put me to work with others shelling the
corn. We did good work and were fed
well, an important item for us who had
been so long on short rations.
The crew of the ship cleared out for
the mines. A ship at anchor in port requires
considerable work and attention
to keep everything in shipshape, work
landmen knew nothing about, but we
consented to do as best we knew. It
wasn't long, however, before the officers
of the ship got overbearing and abusive.
"D - n your eyes! Avast there!" etc.
We struck and went ashore.
ship and the job finished. Refusing to
do this, the balance was lost, although
he promised to be a brother by proxy.
Others sued and got their money. Three
others and myself found a job burning
charcoal and chopping cord wood from
the scrub oaks on the adjacent hills. I
remarked to my comrades that I knew
nothing about such work. They said it
was all right and they would give me
a full show and do most of the hard
work. It was a standoff, by my cooking
and doing other camp duties and
marketing our products. Thus we earned
enough to get an outfit for the mines.
dead sure thing we accepted the $8.00
per day and keep. The old man had
a nice family, a good, motherly wife and
two grown daughters, who made it
pleasant for us. We got along and gave
satisfaction. We noticed, however, frequent
half and sometimes whole days
off when we were idle. Notwithstanding
such loss of time, we did not complain
at first, but grew restive and determined
to resume our tramp to the
mines. When coming to a settlement
we fell far short of getting what we
thought justly due. For Sunday we
were charged $4.00 for a day's board
and the same for each day laid off during
the week and $2.00 for each half
day that the old fellow failed to furnish work.
After accepting these harsh terms,
the wise guy of our party vouchsafed
the following: "Well, old Rooster, although
masquerading as an honest old
Missouri farmer, in thus tricking us
boys, had we stayed much longer, we'd
have been in your debt. In this transaction
you have out-yanked the shrewdest
Yankee we have thus far met."
But the immigration of 1850 was arriving,
and Sacramento was full of idle
men, glad to work on any terms offered,
so my traps were shouldered for a
start back for the mines, where a new
location was made.
He found a Dr. A. S. Wright, who
advertised himself as "Banker and Assayer,"
who offered Dix a bigger price
than anyone else would give for his gold
dust, provided he would take draft on
New Orleans, payable in sixty days after sight.
Besides the $3,000.00 thus
disposed of, he had quite a little reserve,
which he persisted in "toting" on his
person a source of worry and nervous
anxiety, contributing to the general
breakdown that followed.
water on the island, but the tanks of
fresh water on the steamer remained
intact and were brought on shore in boats.
One day, when assisting in this work
and undertaking to help myself to a
drink, the cup was knocked from my
lips by one of the crew, who said: "Let
that water alone until I tell you to drink,
you." After the fellow was
pretty badly used up, the cup was refilled
and drank with gusto, with no further
molestation. One usually makes
friends when showing pluck to resent
such an outrage, and this fellow slunk
like a whipped cur. When the affray
was over, Dick was hard by gritting his
teeth, with fists doubled up, just ready
for war.
fabulous price for mule hire, we determined
to be of the number. Much of
my stuff was thrown away to make my
pack as light as possible, but Dick was
in love with all he had, which he wanted
to take home as souvenirs, besides the
gold dust strapped to his person. With
his heavy load, he soon began to lag;
first one article and then another was
transferred from his shoulders to mine.
He was almost heart broken when we
were forced to lighten cargo from time
to time, abandoning different things on
the march, in order to keep up with
our comrades. Upon my releasing him
from his incubus of gold dust, he stepped
rather spryly for a time. I kept
him in front and pushed him along,
bullied and scared him by fear of robbers,
who we heard of attacking, robbing
and some times killing others.
Poor fellow, he was used up and collapsed
upon reaching the steamer. He
was abed most of the time until we
reached New Orleans.
We passed over to Mobile after Dick
rested a few days, where, fortunately,
we found an old friend of his. It was
a great relief to me, as poor Dick
had been a burden. Besides the
terrible ordeal of other vicissitudes
through which we had just passed,
was the worry of the probable loss of
his $3,000.00 cheap-john check. He was
in a state of mental as well as physical
collapse. As soon as able to travel, his
friends kindly escorted Dixon to his
home, up the Tombigbee to Demopolis.
A returned successful Californian
was something of a show, a rather
annoying feature of my stay in Mobile,
which prompted an early exit for Camden
and out to Pine Apple where our
people lived. After a nice visit, finding
the old folks up in pretty good
shape, I started for New Orleans, with
a view of resuming my medical studies.
Upon my arrival at Mobile, I found
poor brother William down with
pneumonia.
was inevitable, and partially succeeded.
Although they abandoned the case, the
doctors were asked to give him a little
champagne. They flippantly responded:
"Give him all he wants." Two quart bottles
were obtained and the poor fellow smacked
his lips after having a small wine glass full.
This I kept up every hour. The effect was
marvelous. He was so revived that I felt
justified in leaving him to take a little rest
and sleep, after stupidly repeating the
Doctor's words: "give him all he wants," to
those left in charge. They had seen the
cautious small doses given and at intervals
of an hour. After more than an hour's
refreshing slumber, I found the poor fellow
in great distress, retching and vomiting,
hovering near life's end. After being
snatched from the jaws of death by the
judicious use of an agent, he was almost
gone by the injudcious
overdosing with the
same.
Though no more than an inexperienced,
half-baked doctor, no other was called and
no more chances taken of his being killed
through kindness, not to say innate
stupidity. After this episode,
the invalid progressed rapidly to full
recovery and we went to Camden within a
month; there he was soon fully restored. He
abandoned a fine position and prospects in
Mobile and remained in Wilcox and in the
fall was elected to office by the largest
majority ever given in the county. In this
position, he was exposed a good deal to
vicissitudes of weather and in time had
another attack of pneumonia, which took
him off - a noble, true man.
Business complications of my old friend
Dixon demanded
they predicted Wright would not be
found on my arrival.
Added to the wear and tear of nursing
brother William and other, perhaps,
unnecessary exposures, after two weeks
stay on the Isthmus, I was attacked with
Panama fever before the steamer reached
Acapulco; but in cooler weather, by the time
we had reached San Francisco, I was in
fairly good shape. Upon my arrival, I was
fortunate enough to be placed in contact
with two of the biggest banking houses in
town, who, after some fun with me, as the
victim of the agent, gave me all the aid
possible in recovering the money. Old
Wright was badly scared and humiliated at
the exposure, which came sooner than he
anticipated. He filibustered, quibbled, said he
had forwarded the money and knew it had
been paid at the other end of the line, but he
was outgeneraled on every turn and finally
refunded every dollar, which, less a small
sum for incidentals, was sent to Dixon in a
check on a Mobile bank. Within a short
time, Wright and the old bankers who
helped hold him up, all went to the wall.
first one share, one-eighth interest - had
but little to do with it, but, as others got
discouraged, secured additional interests,
struggled hard, lived stintedly, and when at
last the mine began to yield fair returns,
owned five-eighths interst. I closed out in
five years with more money than sense, and
The
Adventures of W. B. Crumpton, going
to and returning from California, including
his Lecture, "The Original Tramp, or
How a Boy Got through the Lines to the
Confederacy"
The story I am to tell relates my own
personal adventures, which I often told
around the fire-side, with no dream of its
ever assuming the shape of a lecture. My
old friend, Col. J. T. Murfee, President of
Howard College, insisted that I should turn
it into a lecture. My reply was: "Some day,
when I have time, I may sit down and
write it out, dressing it up with beautiful
language, weaving in some poetry, and
then branch out as a full fledged lecturer." I
suppose the leisure time never would have
come and probably the lecture never been
delivered but for a foolhardy spell that
possessed me on one occasion when I was
in Mt. Sterling, Ky. A brother said: "Our
Baptist young people want you to deliver a
lecture. You are going to be here several
days. Could you not do so?" And I promptly
said "Yes." The next question was: "What is
the name of the lecture?" I had never
thought of that before, but I blurted out:
"How a boy got through the Lines to the
Confederacy." "How much do you charge?"
That was a new question too, but I ventured
to say: "About one-half." So it was arranged and a
dodger was gotten out by the preacher and
printer headed: "War, War, War."
It was the time of the Spanish-American
war and it ran about this way:
"Dr. W. B. Crumpton, of Georgetown, Ky.,
being in our city for a few days has kindly
consented to deliver his famous lecture at
the Court House tonight at 7:30 o'clock for
the benefit of the Baptist Young People's
Union. It is a rare opportunity our citizens
have to hear this distinguished
lecturer. Come one, come all. A treat
awaits you. Admission Ten Cents." The old
people concluded, as long as the price was
so small, that it was only a funny story I
was going to relate to the young people and
they were conspicuous by their absence.
After spending a nervous afternoon, I
went out to the Court House and found
about a hundred and fifty young people and
children gathered. I said to myself: "You
have made yourself a fool now. These
children will all be asleep in about ten
minutes, and you will be ashamed of yourself
the balance of your life for attempting to
lecture." When I was through with the story,
only two very small kids were asleep, so I
took it as a good indication that I had
something worth while. I returned to my
home, taking with me some of the fine
circulars for the amusement of my family,
and concluded to make a further test by
giving a free lecture in the College
Chapel. It was well advertised and probably
five hundred people were present
many old veterans and a large number
of students. When I was through,
parties congratulated me, and I concluded
that I could afford to continue spinning the
yarn. So I have delivered the lecture in a
great many places, wherever
the young people or women would get up
an audience.
The lecture was called the "Original
Tramp; or How a boy got through the lines
to the Confederacy." One pious old sister
who heard it suggested that the name be
changed to: "How the Lord took care of a
boy while going through the lines," and I
cheerfully accept the amended form.
It is not a religious lecture. The boy I am
to tell about was not working at religion
much, though a member of the church. But
I hope there will be discovered the marks of
an over-ruling Providence running like a
silver thread through all the story. He has
believed, for many years, the Lord had him
in hand, though he knew it not, preparing
him for the task that has been his for many
years. If some reader shall come to believe
in the Guiding Hand in his or her own life, I
shall be happy.
The lecture began with my return from
California; but I have concluded to give the
whole narrative, beginning with my first
start to California, and let the reader pick
out where the "Famous Lecture" begins.
A boy's best friend; A boy without ambition; "A
sucker ready to bite at any bait"; Remembers his
brother's counsel; Off to sea; Completely
transformed.
I once heard a blind man sing - I
remember one line of the chorus:
My home was broken up by the death of
my mother when I was only thirteen. I
became a wanderer. Sometimes I worked
on a farm, sometimes I went to school,
after a fashion. When my brother, an "old
forty-niner," as the
first gold-hunters in California were called,
visited relatives at Pleasant Hill in Dallas
county, he found me in school. He thought
that travel would be the best schooling for
me. So he asked me one day how I would
like to go to California. My answer in the
negative amazed him. I was perfectly
content to remain where I was. I was
honest about it. I had been to Montgomery,
Selma, Cahaba and Prattville, and had
frequently seen steam boats on the
Alabama - had actually ridden on one -
had but one desire as to travel ungratified. I
wanted some day to go to Mobile and then
to East Mississippi to see my kin. I had
determined to make that trip if I lived to be
grown; beyond that I had no ambition to
see the world.
This satisfied condition indicated to my
brother that
business for my brother; then to return if I
desired. To this proposition, I readily
consented. It seems ludicrous, indeed, now
to think of sending an ignorant boy on such
a journey, to "look after business;" but I fell
into the scheme and felt my importance as
never before.
My brother was wise and knew the ways
of the world and was kind enough to
accompany me as far as he could. First he
took me down the Alabama to Mobile, then
sent me alone up the M. & O. (the first
railroad I ever saw) to Enterprise, Miss., to
visit my relatives beyond there in Jasper
county. I hired a horse and buggy from a
Mr. Edmonson and drove out twenty-four
miles to my brother-in-law's home.
Returning, he accompanied me to
Montgomery by boat, thence by rail to
Savannah, Charleston, Wilmington,
Richmond, Baltimore, Washington,
Philadelphia and finally to New York, two
days before the time for the steamer to sail.
We lay over a day at most of the cities
mentioned to give me a chance to learn
some of the ways of the world. I was a
didn't know what it was about. The firemen
encouraged me, of course. "Go it, my laddie,
brave boy; now we'll save the town," were
some of the cheering remarks the firemen
spoke as I tugged away with all my might
on the rope. "Stand up, my son," was
another, as I slipped on the cobble stones.
The fire reached, I was put in position with
the others to pump the machine. I knew
nothing of what was going on, for I was
intent on trying to save the town. After
awhile, by the awkwardness of some fellow
who held the nozzle (of course it was all
accidental) the stream struck me full in the
breast and I was nearly drowned. A great
shout went up from the crowd, and I
realized that the eyes of several thousand
spectators, who had been drawn to the fire,
were centered on me. I guessed afterward
that the fire, which I never saw, had
been subdued, and they were having a little
sport at my expense.
I turned loose the pump as though I had
been shot, drew my overcoat tight about
me, for it was very cold, and darted
through the crowd, going I knew not
whither. Fortunately
like a Comanche Indian, I was utterly
disgusted with him. I saw nothing to laugh
about. I have never helped at a fire since
then, and when I hear the fire alarm and
see the engine in its mad rush, I am inclined
to want to go in the other direction.
"It is always dangerous at sea in March."
For the first time I began to get alarmed. I
watched the swinging lamps, the supper
tables that looked as if they were going
over and spill all the dishes; the sick
passengers as they flew either to their
staterooms or to the upper deck. Only a
little while elapsed before I was in bed
myself, wishing for my brother and abusing
myself for ever undertaking the trip.
Oh! the desolation and loneliness of that
horrid night as I rolled with every motion of
the vessel! I never slept a wink. Next
morning I looked out of the port-hole and
saw the mad waves of the ocean. To my
surprise the sun was shining; but it looked to
me like a storm was raging. I learned
afterwards that the Atlantic is always rough
and that I was the only one on board who
was much alarmed. Three days and nights I
kept my bed from sheer fright and home-sickness.
I know it was not sea-sickness,
for I tested myself, time and time again,
afterwards and never had the first
symptom.
I had about made up my mind that
I would never see the home folks again, but
would die in a few days and be buried in the
ocean. The third day the old Captain came
in on his rounds of inspection. When he
found that I was not sick, he shouted:
"Pshaw, boy, get out of this and be a man;
get on deck and get a sniff of the salt air
and you will be all right in two minutes and
as hungry as a wolf. Out, out with you; be a
man." In less time than it takes to write it
someone had only spoken the cheering
words in time.
Down through the tropical islands to
Aspinwall, now called Colon, across the
Isthmus of Darien, where the Panama Canal
is now being constructed, on the railroad to
the ancient city of Panama and up the
beautiful Pacific into the lovely harbor of
Acapulco, Mexico, where we stopped a day
for coal, and finally through the Golden Gate;
we dropped anchor in the Bay of San
Francisco, just twenty-four days from New
York. Not a soul in all the great city did I
know; but I was soon in the hands of the
friends of my brother. I felt like Mrs.
Partington when she struck land after being
to sea, she exclaimed: "Thank the Lord for
terra cotta," and I promised myself never
again to get on an ocean steamer.
Looking
for a job; A hostler; In San Francisco;
Packing gold through the streets; Moves to Oakland;
Impulse to shout "Hurrah for Jeff Davis."
IN THE diggings, among the
miners, I spent three months, "keeping
bach," with a genteel old Scotchman, in my
brother's cabin on the mountain side. From
the little stoop in front of my cabin, I could
see villages of Digger Indians, Chinese and
Greasers, and people from every nation of
the earth.
Later I was introduced to a Bostonian
who was sheriff of Placer county. He had
been told I was
and said: "I knew old Crump - he was
never afraid of work; but Southern boys
generally feel themselves above it. I wonder
if you are that way. I want somebody to be
here about the court house and jail all the
time to keep things cleaned up and to feed
and curry my four horses. Can you curry
horses? Are you ashamed of it? Suppose
sometime when you were with your overalls
on, currying horses, a pretty girl comes along
the street, guess you'd run up in the loft and
hide, eh? Now, for that sort of work for a
boy about your age, I have fifty dollars a
month and grub. What do you say?" My!
how he did fire the questions at me and how
his grey eyes did snap and pierce me
through! Fifty dollars a month was a big
thing in my eyes. I was a little on my mettle
to show the Boston Yankee what a Southern
boy could do if he tried. So I became
had any occasion to become an expert -
with the curry comb. I was privileged to
belt a pistol about me and guard a prisoner
while he did the work, if I liked; but
generally I preferred doing the work
myself.
For the benefit of my own boys and
others who may chance to read these lines,
I want to record it: the three months
roughing it in the miner's cabin, and the nine
months currying Sheriff Bullock's horses,
made a year of most valuable training for
me. I learned more that twelve months than
in any of my life, except the years later in
the Civil War.
I was always fond of the girls. I was
never in any place long before I was well
acquainted with a number of the nicest in
the town. Instead of running up in the loft to
hide when they came along, many a
pleasant chat did I have, standing before the
stable door with my overalls on and my
sleeves rolled up to my elbows. My brother,
returning from the States, took me
I didn't know what a draft was; but it
finally came in the mail by the steamer
which came once a month.
I could hardly sleep that night for fear
somebody would steal it. I felt sure
something was going to happen to me
before I got the note paid. I had read of
hold-ups at night, and even in day time
parties had been enticed into dark alleys and
robbed. Next morning it looked as if the
bank would never open its doors. I passed
and repassed, afraid to stop and look in, for
fear some one would suspect I had some
money and would lay a trap for me. Finally
the door opened and I was the first to
enter. I presented the draft. It was the
proudest act of my life. The fellow looked
at it, and then at me, turned it over, looked
on a book, cut his eye at me again, then
looked at his watch, asked me some more
questions, then went in a back room and
was gone, oh! so long. "Surely," I began to
think, "maybe he will slip out of the back
door and I will never see my draft
anymore." But finally he returned with
another man. I can't recall it all now, but
after a while it was arranged and the man
asked: "What do you want for this?" "Want
gold," was my reply. I had heard of bank
notes that were not good - there were no
green backs then. I was determined to be
on the safe side. Nothing but gold would
satisfy me. "Mighty heavy for you to pack,'
he said, but I knew of no other way. Two
sacks were given me. My! how my eyes
opened as the money was counted into the
sacks in $20 gold pieces. I had never seen
so much money before.
I chanced one Saturday to go
later I was out of the great city and
over the bay where every week I could
visit my Southern friends and talk "secesch."
The more we talked, of course,
the madder I got and when the war
broke out a few weeks later, the spirit
of rebellion was hot within me. It was
a time of great excitement and great
danger. On a Friday night I went over
to the city. The next morning as I was
dressing, I thought I heard an unusual
tone in the voices of the newsboys and
I heard excited voices on the street and
in the hotel. When I reached the sidewalk
I heard the cry: "Here's the
Morning Call! All about the great battle
of Bull Run." "Federal troops falling
back on Washington, pursued by
the Rebel army. Rebel army marching
on the Capital." My first impulse was
to shout:
paper and got out of the crowd as quickly
as possible. I hardly stirred out of
the office of my friend all day, so fearful
was he that my mouth would get me
into trouble. The next day I attended
Dr. Scott's church (Presbyterian)
where I frequently went because he was
from New Orleans. His and the Methodist
Church, South, were the only
churches which did not have flag staffs
on them. A mob gathered on Saturday
night and burned the old doctor in effigy
and wrapped the lamp posts and
the front of the church in American
flags. In the streets Sunday morning
was a wild mob of several thousand.
The house was packed with an immense
audience of men - only two ladies present,
one the wife of the preacher. The
sermon was a plain gospel sermon, with
no reference whatever to the surroundings.
After the service a large company
of police fought their way through the
crowd at the head of the carriage which
conveyed the preacher and his family.
On the next steamer, the good man sailed
for New York, where I afterwards
learned, he was pastor of a Presbyterian
church during the four years of the war.
It is impossible for one who was not
there, to conceive of the excitement.
Dr. Scott had said nothing to provoke
this outbreak, except at the meeting of
his Presbytery, he protested against the
custom then prevailing of putting flag
staffs on the church buildings. Though
I was a Baptist, I did not affiliate much
with the people of my faith because
they had gone into politics - the preacher's
prayers and sermons being leveled
against the South. O. P. Fitzgerald,
now a Bishop in Nashville, was pastor
of the little Methodist Church, South, in
the city. He had regular appointments
at Oakland in the afternoons. I became
very fond of him and he knew me right
well. When the Southern Baptist
Convention met in Nashville some years
ago, the aged Bishop was introduced to
the body. After the close of the session
I approached him with the remarks:
"You never saw me before?" Instantly
he replied: "Yes, sir, this is Crumpton.
I knew you by your voice." It had been
thirty years since we had met. In such
an atmosphere as we breathed in California
in those days, it is not strange
that Southern sympathizers began
laying plans and schemes for getting
back South.
A firm
resolve broken; A layover at Pittsburg;
At Beloit, Wis.; The fall of Fort Donelson.
COMPANIES were secretly
organized and meeting
places agreed upon far out
on the eastern border. Some
of these companies were butchered by
the Indians; others overtaken and
captured by the Federal cavalry. My
brother, suspecting my state of mind,
came out and we held a conference. He
had large interests there and some in
Alabama. He proposed to leave me
there to look after his affairs while he
came through the lines; but that was not
my mind at all. I announced my purpose
to go. He was opposed to my
attempting the trip across the plains no
matter how strong the company that
accompanied me. He wanted me to run
no risks. He planned the trip - back
over the same route to New York, thence
to Wisconsin to the home of an old
friend, to remain until spring - mean-time,
corresponding with Col. U. S.
Grant, the military commander at Cairo,
Ill., to get a pass, if possible, on
some pretext or other, through the lines.
four barrel Sharp's pistol with one
hundred cartridges. He expected to equip
himself with something more formidable.
This, the only pistol I ever owned,
was one of the most harmless weapons
I ever saw. I mention it now only to
introduce it later.
Reaching Panama and boarding the
Isthmus train, I observed a frail young
fellow in the uniform of a lieutenant of
U. S. Navy passing through the train
frequently, viewing with some care the
passengers. He seemed to let his gaze
rest upon me each time, in a way to
make me a little uncomfortable. Was
it possible, I thought, that somebody had
found out my secret and had sent this
chap aboard to look me out and arrest
me when I reached Aspinwall? In the
few hours ride across the Isthmus, I
worked myself up to a very unhappy
state of mind. It was after dark when
we got aboard the steamer North Star,
the same I had gone out in, which the
Government afterwards purchased and
turned into a gunboat. While the
passengers were all in line approaching the
office to have their rooms assigned, I
was approached by the young officer
who asked to see me. My heart flew up
in my throat. All my fears, were about
to be realized. I felt sure, I'd be on a
man-of-war and in irons in a few
minutes. I controlled myself enough to
protest that if I should leave the line I
would lose my place and have to drop
back to the foot. "I want to see you
about that very thing," he said. "I have
a room for you." My eyes, I know
were nearly as big as saucers, and I
must have been pale as a sheet. I made
some reply and remained in line.
"Come," he said in a very earnest, tender
tone, "I have seen the captain and
he has given me a room and permitted
me to choose my own room-mate, and
I have picked you out." I felt reassured,
and followed him to the identical berth
I had suffered tortures in nearly two
years before.
In a little while he had discovered
that I was Southern and he turned out
to be a Virginian, who was playing sick
and was off on a furlough. "There is
nothing the matter with me," he said, "I
expect to be in the Confederate Navy in
thirty days." But in spite of this remark,
his uniform scared me and I gave
him no intimations of my intentions.
My old Maryland friend and I tied on
to each other. Neither of us sought
acquaintances with others of the passengers.
On the way from Jersey City to Chicago,
I was left while at dinner at
Altoona, Pa. My baggage of course went
on,
found the family at dinner. I was
ushered into the parlor and left alone.
Glancing around the room, I saw
American flags everywhere and the pictures
of Lincoln and Hamlin, the President
and Vice-President. "What a fool
I am," I thought. My curiosity had
gotten me into trouble; but I must get out
somehow. To slip out of the house,
while the family were yet at dinner
would never do. I determined to face
the difficulty. I never knew why I was
named Washington unless it was because
the father of his country was born
on February 22nd and I on the 24th.
However, you must remember there
were several years intervening between
the birthdays of these two distinguished
men. I was very unlike my illustrious
namesake. He never could tell a lie, I
had been successful in the attempt several
times; but I could not hide a lie. If
any one looked straight at me I would
betray myself. On this occasion, I stuck
as near the truth as I could and I guess
the story was plausible; at least it was
not questioned.
I learned from the two young men,
who met me in the parlor, that their
father was an Episcopal clergyman, out
of the city that day; that he had several
sons in the Union army, and these were
getting ready to go. I was pressed
earnestly to remain over night and see the
father, but I was pressed for time and
turned a deaf ear to all their appeals
and, as soon as possible, excused myself
and returned to the hotel. I was afraid
of my new found kin; but they were
hard to shake off. One of the young
men accompanied me to the hotel and
that night returned with an earnest
invitation from the father, who had returned,
to visit him before I left the city.
A great weight was lifted when he left
me and I boarded the train for Chicago.
At Altoona and Pittsburg, in the hotel
lobbies, I was compelled to hear war
talk of the most offensive character by
the crowds of loafers who thronged
there to hear the news. It was only a
few miles to the West Virginia line.
The war was on everybody's lips. There
I sat in the midst of the talkers, one
lone Southerner, with a secret purpose
in my mind which would have brought
me into trouble if it has been suspected.
My lips were sealed of course, but sometimes
it was very hard to keep silent.
How the snow did pile up soon after
I reached Wisconsin! I had never seen
the like before. My friends, knowing
that I was a Southerner and unused
to such severe weather, were as tender
of me as if I had been a baby; but in
a few days I did not at all mind it.
Winter time is the time for visiting in
the North, and so I was on the go with
the family much of the time. Another
way I spent my time was to go out in
the deep snow in the fields. Sometimes
a rabbit, frightened at my crushing
through the crust of the snow, would
jump out of his hole ten feet away and
sit for a moment, loath to run away in
the cold. Many a time I emptied my
pistol at him and would then throw the
gun at him before he would run away.
That gun will be heard from again.
Without any talk about it, I
secured a large map of the "Seat of
the war in the West." This I put on the
wall in the dining room. It gave all the
public roads. With the study of the
map, I read diligently the Chicago Daily
Times, which gave the movements of
troops along the route I might choose.
I picked out two routes; one through
Southeast Missouri, the other through
Kentucky and Tennessee, both branching
out from Southern Illinois. My
brother hoped I would become satisfied
to remain in this lovely Northern home
and go to school, but I was bent
on going to the war. I did as
he suggested, however; I corresponded
with Col. U. S. Grant,
commandant of the post at Cario, Ill.,
afterwards the great General and twice
President, asking for a pass-port South,
and received a very kind letter in
reply, but denying the request.
I might have remained in Wisconsin
until spring, when I could have had
better weather and more money, but for
an incident I will presently relate.
"Taken from the dead body of
Private Turner of the Mississippi Rifles on
the battlefield of Fort Donelson."
I gazed at it for a moment and heard
the exultant laugh and jeers from the
toughs who gathered about it. I turned
away with clenched teeth, determined
to go South at all hazards and at once
I announced to my friends that evening
that I was going to Chicago, a hundred
miles away, next morning to see the
Fort Donelson prisoners who were confined
in Camp Douglas.
Gets a pass into Camp Douglas; Learns
first lesson in "Shut-mouth"; Starts afoot out
of Chicago; Frogs in the throat; Pawns his
pistol; Rides with Federal soldiers; Across the
Mississippi.
I HAD only a little money.
I could have gotten more
from my friends if I
had asked for it, but I
thought possibly I might
be captured and traced back to
their home and get them in trouble. I
wanted them to have the privilege of
saying they knew nothing at all about
my plans and for the same reason, I
did not care for them to know of my
intentions. Lest I should create some
suspicion, I took no satchel with me.
On the 6th of March, 1862, I started.
With a shawl securely strapped, in
which I had slipped a shirt, with every
scratch of pen or pencil, by which I
might be identified, destroyed, I bade
farewell to my friends, with no expectation
of returning again.
I shall say now and then that things
"happened," but I do not believe that
things happen. I think they are all a
part of the chain of God's great plan.
It so happened that I put up at the
Madison House in passing through
Chicago, and so I naturally went back
to the same place in returning to the
city, and this happened to be the
headquarters of Col. Mulligan, the
Commandant of Camp Douglas. Arriving
there in the middle of the afternoon, I
got aboard a street car and went out to
the Camp. Looking through the open
gate, I saw for the first time Confederate
soldiers. They were all dressed
in butternut jeans. In the beginning,
the Confederates did not wear the grey,
because they did not have it. The cloth
made all over the country by the
mothers and sisters was jeans, the color
of butternut.
Returning to the hotel, after supper
I wrote the very best note I could to
Col. Mulligan and sent it up to his
rooms. Expecting every moment to
be called up into his office, it
seemed that minutes were hours. I am
sure, if my fears had been realized, it
would have taken only about two questions
to have tangled me. What
would have happened then, I have no
idea, but I guess I would have been
arrested and probably thrown into prison
as a Southern sympathizer. But to
my great delight, the servant returned
with a silver waiter and on it was a
nice little card, saying:
expect to start tomorrow morning from
this City, to go through the lines and
join the Confederate army." I rattled
off the words very rapidly, never
realizing for a moment the danger I might
be in. When I reached the end of the
sentence, I looked into their faces, and
they looked like boards, not a feature
indicated any sympathy for what I said.
It was paralyzing; but fortunately a
Mississippian happened to be in the
crowd. Why he was there I never did
know, but when I had finished my
speech, he said: "Did you say your
name was Crumpton?" I said "yes."
"And do your father and sisters live
in Mississippi?" I said "yes." "And
did you visit them before you went to
California?" I replied "yes, two years
ago." "Well," he said, "I belong to a
Company right from their neighborhood.
I did not see you, but I heard
the people speaking about your visit.
Come with me and I will introduce you
to the boys who can tell you about your
people." He took me to his barracks,
several hundred yards from where I
was, carried me into a back, dark corner,
and said in a low tone: "You are
in great danger. You must keep your
mouth shut. I am not surprised at your
being carried away at meeting those
Alabamians, but there is a rumor out
among us that they have agreed to go
West and fight the Indians and relieve
the Regulars there, who will be sent to
the front and we all believe it." [In all
my travels in Alabama, I have never
told the name of that regiment, lest I
should find his surmise correct.] I know
you must have observed the indifference
that they manifested when you were
talking. It is more than probable that
some of them will betray you today
before you get out. You stay with us and
late this evening, I will see if I can't
get you out through another gate. It
is hardly probable that they would know
where my quarters are, as I am a perfect
stranger to them. It was only an
accident that I was present when you
came in."
Going back to the hotel, I satisfied
myself about the way the Illinois Central
R. R. ran out from the city, because
that was the route I expected to take.
It didn't make any difference then with
me about lower or upper berths. The
next morning, Sunday, the 9th of March,
with my shawl wrapped up in a handstrap,
and my overcoat and rubbers on,
large number of men gathered around
the stove, talking about the war. About
six o'clock they broke up and went to
their homes for supper, and I was left
alone with the proprietor, who was
also the railroad agent.
I had made it up with my friends at
Camp Douglass, if I should be captured
I would claim my name was Hardy, one
of their comrades, who had been left
somewhere, and they would recognize
me as Hardy. In that way, later on, I
would be exchanged and get through.
It was a poor put up story, but that was
the understanding, so I did not expect
to be Crumpton any more.
The proprietor said: "You seem to
be traveling." I said "yes." "Afoot?"
"Yes." "Where are you from?"
"Beloit, Wisconsin." "What is your name?"
I said "Crumpton." Immediately he
took my breath by saying: "You are
lately from California, aren't you?"
I could and finally said: "Yes, sir
but how did you know it?" He
said: "Do you know Safford in
California?" I said "yes, one of the best
friends I ever had." "Well," he replied,
"Safford and I were reared down in
Cairo. It has been years since I was there,
but last Christmas I went to visit the
old scenes and, among others, called on
his brother. He showed me a letter from
the California brother, in which he said
a young man my
the name of Crumpton
had gone to Beloit, Wis., and he had
sent some Japanase
and Chinese curiosities
by him." I said, "yes, I am the
boy. I sent the curios by express a
month ago, and I expect to see the
Saffords on this trip." I did not deserve
anything for telling the truth; my
intention was to tell a lie. Suppose I had
said my name was Hardy. The next
question would have been: "Do you
know a young fellow by the name of
Crumpton, lately from California?"
Then I would have been into it.
Resuming the conversation, he said:
"How is it that you are afoot?" My reply
was: "My brother promised to
send me money and when he did not do
it, I became impatient and determined
to go without it. "Where are you
going?" I said: "To Vienna." It was a
place I had picked out on the map, about
twenty miles East of Anna Station.
I guess it was a very insignificant place.
Anna Station was the Camp of Instruction
for the Federal Army, about
twenty miles North of Cairo. I had
chosen that as my point of destination,
as no one would suspect me if I should
be going where the Federal soldiers
were. My friend said: "Young man,
you are surely not acquainted with the
prairie and the winter weather. It is
pleasant for this time of the year, but
in a few days snow storms and blizzards
will be the order and any man, taking
the trip you propose afoot, would freeze
to death. It is out of the question for
you to think of such a thing, it is near
three hundred miles." I said: "Well,
I will go until the storm breaks out."
He said, "you remain with me
tonight. It shan't cost you anything,
and in the morning I will see if I can't
get you a ticket to Anna Station." I
said: "I like to settle things in
my mind; think I can sleep better. I
have a little pistol here which was given
me by a friend. It is hardly of any
value to anybody except me, but if you
will take it in pawn, for two weeks, for
a ticket to Anna Station, I will take the
ticket; otherwise I will pursue my journey
afoot." He finally agreed to do as
I proposed and I turned over the pistol
to him. It was the only pistol I ever
possessed. Really it was a relief to get
rid of it, for I had been uneasy every
minute I had it in my pocket.
The next morning I
of them had a Bible. I did not
understand it until, a few weeks later, when
my own sister presented me with a Bible,
as I started to the army, with the
injunction that I should read it.
A little before day I reached Anna
Station;
time of the year, and probably
ever has been since. Large sand
bars extended out into the river and
the stream was very narrow where it
swept around the bar. I went up to
the head of the sand bar and found
driftwood of every imaginable kind. I
picked out some timbers and expected
to come back and attempt to make a
raft on which I might pole or paddle
myself across, if I should fail in getting
across in the fisherman's boat. As
I approached the house of the fisherman,
I saw on the other side of the river, in
the village a very large number of men.
Evidently they were having a lot of
sport; I guessed they had much liquor
aboard. I got the woman to call her
husband over. I saw him and a
companion coming down the river bank on
the other side. I discovered at once
that they were intoxicated. As they
came up, the owner of the boat said:
"Who are you?" "I am a young fellow
from Beloit, Wis., going to Greenville,
Mo." "Well, how do you know you are
going?" I said: "I don't know it. I
suppose it depends on you, but I am
very anxious to get across." He said:
"Well, old fellow, are you loyal?" "I
am sworn not to put anybody across
here except loyal men, and I would get
into a world of trouble if I should put
a rebel across." I said: "How can a
man be otherwise than loyal when he
comes from Beloit, Wis.? I was in Chicago
just day before yesterday and I
expect, just as soon as I get back home,
to join the army." So after a good deal
of parley, he said: "Well, it will take
one dollar in advance," which I readily
paid, that left me one dollar in
my pocket. I was anxious to make a
good impression on him as to my loyalty,
so I said, as we were crossing: "Is
there any danger of my falling into the
hands of the rebels on the other side of
the river?" He said: "I should say,
and if they run up on you they will kill
you sure." I said: "That would be
awful. I think maybe I can walk two
miles before night; tell me the name of
some loyal man out a little piece, where
I could stay all night and be safe." He
said: "All right I'll just take you up to
the man and introduce you, he will take
care of you." I saw at once I had
spoken one word too many. I didn't want
to be introduced to anybody by that
man, especially not to a loyal man. How
was I going to get out of it was the
question.
Just as the boat landed there came a
number of men down the bank, cursing
and swearing at these fellows.
Evidently they had formed a conspiracy to
whip them when they got back. They
commenced fighting and rolled into the
edge of the river before I left. When I
got to the top of the bank, I saw all
the people of the town coming my way,
evidently, bent on seeing the fight. I
did not care to meet them, so I took a
path running right down by the river
bank and walked off just as if I lived
down that way. I have no idea that
there was a man in the crowd that could
have remembered seeing me, if he had
been sworn; they were so intent on seeing
that fight they had no eyes for
anything else.
Gets his pistol back; Road full of Yankees;
Goes forty miles one day; Such a man as I
have never seen; Not a prayer meeting man;
Reaches old Uncle McCullough's; Like one in
a dream; You people who don't believe in
prayer; Mind made up not to remain.
I STAYED that night with a
man who lived on the bank
of the river, and found out
that he had been with Jeff
Thompson, the Confederate Cavalry
General, but had been caught
and made to take the oath of
allegience. Such men, I afterwards
discovered, were called "galvanized"
men. Before I left the house
next morning I was treated to the sight
of a steamboat, loaded with Federal
soldiers, going down the river. They were
cheered lustily by the negroes, but the
white man and I observed them in
silence. Of course, I told him nothing
about my intentions, except that I was
going to Greenville, Mo. Thinking it
possible that it might be difficult to get
a letter back to my friends later on, I
wanted to find a suitable place to write.
This I discovered by questioning an old
negro. He said he belonged to "Marse
John Oliver. Young Marse John was
with Jeff Thompson and Miss Mary was
at home." I concluded I could confide
in the mother after that information,
so I approached the house and
introduced myself to the lady, telling
her that I was going South and wanted
to write some letters back to my friends.
She kindly showed me to a back room
and gave me stationery. I wrote to my
friends in Wisconsin, begging their
pardon for deceiving them, and asking
them to redeem my pistol, so that the
man at Calumet might not lose anything.
This they did and
The lady said: "I would be very glad
for you to spend the afternoon and
night with us, so that my husband might
see you; but it would be dangerous for
you and for us. The Home Guards are
roaming through the country all the
time, and if you should be found here,
they might have my husband arrested
and carried off to prison, on the charge
of harboring a rebel, or they might
burn our property down. There is no
telling what they would do. I am very
uneasy for you, lest they shall meet you
and kill you." These Home Guards, as
I afterwards found out, were irresponsible
soldiers, most of them Germans,
who were but little more than marauders,
and I afterwards found that we had
some of the same sort among the
Confederates. I had but little
apprehension of trouble, as I was to
go to places where there were
Federal garrisons. I went through the
first town late in the afternoon with
a "galvanized" man whom I happened
to meet just before reaching the village.
I saw the soldiers all around on the
streets, drinking and carousing. A little
further along, I spent the night in
a home where an old gentleman and his
family were living, taking care of the
plantation and slaves belonging to a
young man who was with Jeff Thompson.
Of course they told me very much
about the war, but I said nothing to
them further than that I was going to
Greenville. The next morning when I
came down stairs, I found the girls on
the back veranda. Being of a confiding
disposition, especially with pretty girls,
I told them in a few words that I was
going South to the Confederate Army.
Just then breakfast was announced. I
sat down to the table with my back
towards the front door, and the girls sat
on the opposite side of the table, in full
view of the front door and the public
road. As I was chatting with them,
casting sheep's eyes the while. I
noticed one of them suddenly change
color, as she gazed intently towards the
front door, and she remarked:
my throat, and I was wondering
what I would say to the fellows
when they came in. One girl bounded
towards the door and stood in it. It
was the days of the hoop-skirt and she
just about filled the door, so that nobody
might see past her. The other girl
begged me to run up stairs and hide, which
I was not at all inclined to do. The
old people were paralyzed, because they
did not understand it at all. I hastily
informed them of what I had told the
girls. That is one time I didn't know
what I ate for breakfast. It might
have been knives and forks and
salt-cellars for all I knew, but I kept eating.
The girl in the door turned her
head and said: "They are going into
the lot." The old gentlemen said: "I
don't reckon they are coming in the
house at all; they left some wounded
horses with me several weeks ago and
told me yesterday they were going to
send after them." It was a great
relief to hear that, but I could not understand
why a whole regiment should
have to come after a few horses.
Presently the girl said: "They are going
off," and I felt a pressure removed,
equal to five hundred bales of cotton. I
felt as light as a featheRECOLLECTIONS OF THE FAMILY LIFE.
Our parents were married about 1816.
Mother was Miss Matilda Smith Bryan
and father Henry T. Crumpton. Both
sprang from honorable, well-to-do people
from revolutionary sires, who were
soldiers of distinction under General
Francis Marion. Our maternal grandfather
was Rev. Richard Bryan, a Methodist
preacher. Our parents started
married life in Walterboro, Colleton
District, S.C., where were born to them
Page 16
Page 17ARRIVAL IN ALABAMA.
After a dreary trip, we safely landed
at the delightful home of grandmother
Bryan near "Fort Rascal," now Pleasant
Hill, Dallas Co. We afterwards moved to
old Cahaba, where our father
succeeded well in business. The arrival
of a steamboat was quite an event,
occurring maybe once a month; everybody
turned out. They had a crude way of
loading cotton. A bale was carelessly
turned loose and rolled over our brother
Henry, who sustained injuries from
which he died. This was such a shock
for poor mother, it was determined best
to have a change of scenes. Our family
removed from old Cahaba to Farmersville,
Page 18
Page 19MOVED TO TOWN.
We moved to the county seat, Barbersville,
Page 20
Page 21
Page 22CHANGE OF VOCATION.
Maybe the dog fight prompted a
change of vocation to that of mail
carrier, on horse back or mule back, the
route extending from Cahaba down the
river by Cambridge
* to Prairie
Bluff, across the river and up by
old Canton, to Camden, Bells Landing,
Claiborne, thence to Stockton,
in Baldwin county, and serving
intervening post offices. It required six days
to make a round trip with the seventh
day off, Thursday, either at Stockton or
the other end. At Stockton, as a government
attaché one had the privilege
to go on the mail boat to Mobile and
return after a stay of five hours
- quite a treat for a country boy.
Whereas, a day off at the other end
involved an extra ride of ten miles to
Selma and return, because the contractor
* The post office at Cambridge was in the
home of a planter, C. M. Cochran, H. J. C.
carried the mail into that home many a time,
about the time the other Alabama boy was
born. Into that home the latter entered in
1870 and took the baby daughter of the old
post master to be his wife. The post office
has been long known as Crumptonia. - W. B. C.
Page 23
Page 24BECOMES A PRINTER.
My next work was an apprentice in
a printing office - a fine school for a
boy with an ambition to learn. Those
capable of judging soon began to credit
me with quick, accurate work. 'Twas
a misfortune perhaps, and entailed
following hardships to have an early
ambition for something beyond -
commenced "reading medicine" - generally
Page 25MEXICAN WAR
When the war with Mexico commenced,
brothers William and Richard
went as volunteers, the latter on a very
short enlistment, and afterwards wrote
he had declined further service in the
ranks, having secured employment more
lucrative in the quartermaster's employment.
Although not exactly fair thus
to leave the old folks alone with a number
of younger children, I left for Memphis,
Tenn., soon after the other boys
went to Mexico and matriculated as a
student in a medical college.
Page 26
Page 27STARTS ON HIS WANDERINGS.
So I packed my belongings into a pair
of old saddle-bags, which was sent down
the river to Mobile. I collected every
cent due me in Camden and struck out
across country for Kilpatrick's home in
Clark county on foot. In those days it
was rare to see a decent appearing white
chap thus traveling. White folks looked
askance and suspicious, and the darkies
wondered. It was a comfort to hear a
darky say to her companions: "Yander
boy haint no po' white trash." She
didn't know how scantily filled was my
purse.
Page 28THE GOLD EXCITEMENT.
By this time the great gold discoveries
were known the world over. At New
Orleans I saw a circular tent, out from
Fort Smith, Ark., "Ho, for California
Gold Mines!" It went on to say that an
expedition was fitting out at that point,
soon to start overland. After some
mistakes enroute, I reached Ft. Smith,
perhaps in Oct. 1848, to be informed that
the expedition was only in its incipiency,
not to leave there until the following
spring, which was just as well for me,
as most of my scanty funds had been
used up. I was fortunate indeed in
finding work. I was never idle a day, so
that within six months, I accumulated
quite a little sum. I suppose I had the
Page 29STARTS FOR THE FAR WEST.
We left Fort Smith April 12th, 1849,
traveled westerly up the Canadian river
through the territory of the Choctaws
and other of those friendly tribes, who
had been moved from Georgia, Alabama
and other Southern States. Thence our
route of travel was westerly up that
river through the present territory of
Oklahoma, up onto broad open plains to
Page 30
Page 31
Page 32NEW ACQUAINTANCES.
There came along a pack train bound
for California and camped on the opposite
side of the stream. Tired waiting
the subsidence of the flood they
hired the Indians to help them across.
The Indians constructed a rude raft,
on which the trappings and cargoes of
the mules and their owners were placed
and drawn with ropes across. The Indians,
almost naked, were in the water
steering the mules across - doing the
job in splendid way.
Page 33ANOTHER START WEST.
My own physical condition was
changing so rapidly for the better, my
old enthusiasm for the westward trip
only required a little to change my
course in that direction; so, to relieve
these fellows of their dilemma, I offered
to advance the balance due the Indians
and go along with them until we overtook
their wagon train, when the
amount due me should be refunded.
This was readily agreed to and the
Indians' claim amicably adjusted. The
Page 34STRIKES OUT ALL ALONE.
I chose to follow the track of the
lesser number, who continued up on the
southerly side of that great stream. I
passed a number of detached small parties,
but soon found myself beyond all
in sight, and alone on broad, treeless
plains, with now and then a clump of
willows or a lone cotton tree, showing
where the river was. Thus passed two
Page 35A PLUNGE IN THE OVERFLOW.
Perhaps about nine o'clock, I came to
a body of water, which I mistook for
another shallow pond, such as had been
previously encountered, but in a little
time I was in swimming water, in a
strong, rapid current. The horse, as
badly panic stricken as the rider, could
not, or would not swim and was soon
rolling down the current like a barrel.
For some time I could not detach my
feet from the little yankee stirrups.
When released, I swam until able to
stand a moment with head above water.
Page 36
Page 37FELL IN WITH THE MILITARY.
I resumed a westerly course next
morning. After traveling all day, badly
scared by plenty of signs of hostile
Indians, was overjoyed to see friendly
camp-fires ahead, which proved to be
a military escort which accompanied us
to Santa Fe. They treated me hospitably,
after hearing my tale of woe. Up
to the time I got into the river, although
I had some provisions, I had no relish
for them, owing, I suppose, to my fear
of Indians, and the uncertainty about
the route of travel. I was well prepared
now to fill up with the ample lay-out
presented by my military entertainers.
The incident was mentioned in their report
to the Government of Captain Mercey's
Santa Fe expedition from Fort
Smith Spring of 1849.
STRIKES HANDS WITH OLD FRIENDS.
I rejoined my old party the next afternoon;
Page 38FOOD SCARCE.
We were disappointed, too, in not being
Page 39
Page 40
Page 41ALONE CONFRONTED BY INDIANS.
My feelings might have found utterance
as follows: "Well, boy, there is
one chance in a thousand for you to
get out of this alive - that one chance
consists in concealing from them that
you are scared nearly to death." Having
picked up considerable Spanish during
the short contact with the Mexicans,
which the border tribes all speak fluently,
they were invited to go into camp
with me, that we had some nice presents
for them, naming such things as were
thought most acceptable to them. In
the meantime I had dismounted from
my steed and advanced to the one
supposed to be the leader and offered to
shake hands with him. After a little
conversation with his fellows, he seized
my hand, not so as to give me pain, but
with a grip it would have been useless
to pull away from had he willed it otherwise.
Being right over me on his horse,
he looked at me so piercingly that the
effect was transmitted to the region of
the stomach, where there was a death-like
chilliness. My weight being less,
Page 42ALONE AGAIN.
Being left alone by them, I was glad
to pile down on the side of the road and
wait for the wagon train and go to camp
with them. No matter what their original
purpose, these Indians never returned
to our camp. Another and bigger band
had just returned into the
Page 43REACHES CALIFORNIA.
After considerable privation, we finally
reached California by crossing the
Colorado river, where Fort Yuma now
is, into the Great American Desert,
Page 44LOST HIS OXEN.
Soon after reaching the first settlement,
a loose yoke of oxen was lost
through my carelessness and I stopped
behind to hunt them. I found them after
looking thirty-six hours, just at dark
the second night, and started with them,
on foot, to overtake my party. I had
nothing to eat during the time, traveled
all night, and next morning at eight
o'clock met two of my comrades starting
back to hunt me. They had killed a fine,
fat deer, and had a four quart bucket
full of stewed venison with dumplings
Page 45IN GOD'S COUNTRY AT LAST.
One was justified in feeling, under the
circumstances, that at last he had found
"God's Country."
Page 46GOT A JOB.
Agreeing with him on that proposition,
I replied: "Well, I don't expect to
doctor you, but surely you can use me
some way to your benefit and to mine."
After thus tantalizing me and taking my
measure, he called a peon, whom I found
to be an easy boss, and I was placed
beside himself digging and shoveling,
took his gait, which was much more
easy than the Southern darkey. Later
on the old man came out and said:
"Come in now, we are going to have
dinner." This first invitation for a
square meal within six months was
embarrassing. In my thread-bare,
unkempt condition, I felt myself unfit to
dine with an elegant family. The old
Don took in the situation and walked
away, to reappear after perhaps an
hour, renewing his invitation, as I supposed,
to dine with the servants; but
there was a retinue of them to wait on
Page 47
Page 48TO TAKE SAIL.
Before declaring my plans and purposes
Page 49HEARS SAD TIDINGS.
In signing my name, he asked: "Are
you one of the Alabama Crumptons?"
"Yes," was the reply. "Was Dick your
brother?" "Yes." "He's dead, poor
fellow died with cholera at Camargo
when about to start with Major Graham's
party for the Coast." Seeing my
distress and shock from such intelligence,
he said: "Be of good cheer, my
dear boy; Dick was a noble friend to
me, I'll be a brother to you." Of course
this was comforting. Bell, besides cleaning
Page 50NO PAY FOR SERVICES.
There was quite a sum due me beyond
payment of my passage money.
This Bell refused to pay, except on
condition that there was a return to the
Page 51AT ORO CITY.
We went on a little sloop to Sacramento
and from there up the river to
where a man had laid out what he called
Oro City. He hired us to clear out snags
and sawyers, so as to make Bear river
navigable down to its mouth into the
Feather river, perhaps two miles below.
He offered us $12.00 a day without keep,
or $8.00 a day and keep, and a place
to sleep in our blankets. To make a
Page 52
Page 53IN THE MINES.
We struck the mines at the mouth of
Deer creek, where it empties in the Yuba
river, and worked along the banks,
finally settling in a comfortable camp
where the splendid little mountain city,
Nevada, has since grown up. We were
lucky in soon having good returns for
our work, beyond what the Oro City
man had promised us, and so continued
until the spring of 1850. Then we secured
a promising layout on the upper
South Yuba river, perhaps thirty miles
away, and commenced active operations
to turn the river as soon as the snow
water subsided. Results were not satisfactory,
blowing into the Yuba Dam all
our previous earnings. I returned to
Sacramento, lured thither by a $200.00
per month job offered me on my way up
to the mines.
Page 54AT ROUGH-AND-READY.
Met with good success during the
following winter, in the spring of 1851
another change was made, to Auburn,
then called Woods' Dry Diggings. Here
I staid
with good success until the fall
of 1853. I determined to visit the old
folks at home and to finish my medical
studies at New Orleans. Accompanying
me was my dear old mining partner,
Tom Dixon, of Marengo county.
STARTS BACK HOME.
We started from our California home,
Auburn, so as to have several days in
San Francisco before the sailing of the
Panama steamer.
Page 55IN A WRECK.
We left San Francisco in the crack
steamship Winfield Scott with an opposition
steamer racing us from the start
via Nicarauga. At midnight, the second
day out, our ship struck a rock and
sank. There was a calm sea and plenty
of time to save all hands and land them
on an adjacent island, Aracapa, with
a limited amount of provisions, which
were doled out stintedly twice a day.
There was rarely enough given out to
go around. Out of 500 souls, perhaps
as many as twenty-five would get nothing.
Tom was nearly always one of them.
My little allowance was always shared
with him. When reproved for not rushing
in with me to secure his share, he
replied: "0, Kiah, I don't like to
crowd." When assured he would have
to go hungry, as I wouldn't divide any
longer, he got a move on him and got
there with the foremost. There was no
Page 56ON TO PANAMA.
After a ten days stay, we sailed pleasantly
to Panama. We had hard experiences
in crossing the Isthmus. The
railroad had been completed but a few
miles at its eastern terminus. As a large
number of our comrades had determined
to cross on foot, instead of paying a
Page 57
Page 58IN NEW ORLEANS.
Upon presentation of his $3,000.00
check, not on a bank, but on a respectable
mercantile house, we were told that
they knew nothing of the San Francisco
Banker and Assayer. As the check
was not due for sixty days, they explained
the funds might be received with
which to pay it.
FINDS HIS BROTHER.
I found brother William in Mobile,
where he had a fine position in business
and stood well socially.
Page 59DETAINED IN MOBILE.
Although under the care of two of
the most eminent doctors of that city,
my trip to New Orleans was abandoned
to remain with him as nurse. After a
long siege they gave him up as beyond
recovery. This being known, brought
what was intended as a farewell greeting
from a host of old friends who comforted
him on his being resigned and
prepared for the change. Although having
little hope myself, I tried to dispel
from his mind the idea that a fatal ending
Page 60
Page 61IMMEDIATE ATTENTION IN
CALIFORNIA,
and he prevailed on me to return and
act as his agent. The poor fellow turned
the collection of his $3,000.00 protested
check over to me, as business
agent, whose knowledge of business was
almost as limited as his own. I was fortunate,
however, in seeking assitance
in
proper quarters. The check, having
been presented when due, but not paid,
went to protest. Upon calling at the
New Orleans house on my way to California
Page 62
Page 63BACK TO THE MINES AGAIN.
After getting the Dixon matter settled, I
left San Francisco for my old haunts in the
mines at Auburn. Not a great while
afterwards, heard from a dear old mining
partner, who some time previous left for the
north, when I left Rough-and-Ready for
Auburn. He wrote me he had a valuable
discovery at what is now Yreka, near the
Oregon line, requesting me to join and share
with him all there was in it. Usually rather
reserved about exposing my plans for the
future, my intended prospects to join Tom
Ward got to be known among others, by an
enterprising thief, who went through my
effects one night and stole most of my ready
means on the eve of my departure. With
plenty of help, he was captured and my
money recovered. The necessary law's
delay to appear against him knocked out my
contemplated trip. The fellow was finally
tried, convicted, and served a term in the
penitentiary. While waiting for this, I bought
into the old Rough-and Ready mine at
Forest Hill,
Page 64RETURNED TO ALABAMA,
purposing to first finish my studies in
medicine, then to buy a plantation and the
darkies thereon. My original purpose was to
enter Tulane University, New Orleans, but
the Medical Department of the State
University in Mobile was chosen. Scores of
people knew me and I was soon a social
lion, a bad predicament for a student
anxious to cram and learn all possible in a
given time. At the end of the term I felt too
green to submit to an examination, which
made it necessary to attend another term to
secure the degree. This I did at another
Institution, and later an honored professional
standing was attained.
Page 65HIS OPINION ABOUT SLAVERY.
Following close on the term in Mobile, the
spring and part of the summer were spent in
Wilcox and Dallas, visiting among relatives
and old friends of our family. Perhaps it
was to our cousin, Ulma Crumpton, my
views on the negro question were
expressed about thus: "Well, my purpose in
leaving California was to finally settle down
on a plantation with the ownership of as
many darkies as my means would buy, but
after being away from the institution so long
and seeing the harrassing
cares and
annoyances connected with managing and
providing for the creatures, my sympathies
are with those of you who are responsible
to God and man for their humane treatment.
The darkey has the best of it. I would not
swap places with you. I wouldn't accept as
a gift the best plantation and darkies thereon
and be forced to continue as such owner."
Page 67
Part Two
By W. B. Crumpton
Page 69
HOW I BEGAN TO LECTURE.
THE following is about the way
I tell it:
Page 70
Page 71
Page 72
Page 73
Page 75Chapter I
"A BOY'S BEST FRIEND IS HIS MOTHER."
How true is that and the poor boy doesn't
realize it until the mother is taken from him.
After she is gone out of the home, the
world is never again what it was to him.
Page 76I WAS WITHOUT AMBITION.
This distressed him no little. Through
another party he approached me next time.
I was asked if I would be willing to go to
California to look after some
Page 77
Page 78
"SUCKER, READY TO BITE AT ANY BAIT."
I doubt if ever a boy started on so long a
trip as green as I. One incident will show
my ignorance. While in New York, one
afternoon, I saw a great commotion on the
streets. Going out I saw my first fire engine.
The engine was of the old kind, with long
ropes attached, pulled by men. There the
poor fellows were toiling over the rough
streets, tugging at the ropes and frantically
appealing to the crowds of people who lined
the sidewalks to come to their aid. I had
read of great fires destroying large cities
and turning multitudes out as homeless
wanderers, and I made sure that just such a
thing was about to happen to New York. I
was paralyzed at the utter indifference of
the people who gazed unmoved at the
heroic firemen and turned a deaf ear to their
appeals. I could stand it no longer, so I
leaped out into the street and seized the
rope. I was a tall, slim, awkward lad, about
eighteen years old, thin as a match, pale as
a ghost and had on a long Jim Swinger. The
crowd cheered, but I
Page 79
Page 80MY BROTHER'S COUNSEL CAME TO MY
AID:
"If you ever get lost in a city, don't try to
find your way back, but hail the first hack
you see, and tell the driver to take you to
your hotel." This I did, and as the carriage
rumbled over the streets across several
blocks, I was wishing and praying that I
might get to my room without being seen by
my brother. He was not in the lobby of the
hotel, and I was congratulating myself, as I
wearily toiled up the stairs, that I had missed
him, and he would never know of my
misfortune; but I was doomed to
disappointment. Opening the door, there he
was in the room! As I stood before him,
bedraggled with mud and water, his eyes
opened wide and he took me in. "Where
have you been?" he exclaimed. I gasped
out: "To the fire!" He was not a prayer
meeting man, and I will not repeat his
language. As he rolled on the bed, yelling
Page 81OFF TO SEA
is a beautiful thing to read about, but it has a
serious side. I didn't mind separating with
my brother so much. He had introduced me
to the captain and purser of the steamer,
besides these, I knew not a soul. I was
much interested, for the hour or two
before night fall, watching the shipping.
Everything was new to me, but darkness
came down upon us before we were out of
the harbor. I shall never forget the sensation
when the vessel struck the first billow of the
rolling ocean. As the old vessel lurched
forward, and her timbers began to creak,
some one said: "That's pretty strong for a
starter." Another said: "Shouldn't wonder if
we didn't have a rough voyage." And yet
another:
Page 82
Page 83I WAS COMPLETELY TRANSFORMED.
All my fears were gone and I found the
Captain's words true. As I looked at the
hundreds of people on the open deck, there
were eight hundred passengers, all happy
and cheerful, I felt disgraced to have been
such a coward. There was the boundless
ocean on every side. No sign of land
anywhere and, strange to say, I was not a
bit afraid. The reassuring words of the
Captain had saved me. Many a poor
fellow has given up and gone down in
the battle of life, who might have been
saved if
Page 84
Page 85Chapter Two
LOOKING FOR A JOB.
He turned his cold, grey eyes on me
Page 86A HOSTLER
for nine months. I was used to all kinds of
work on the farm, but never
Page 87
Page 88TO SAN FRANCISCO
and put me in school. Some of my leisure
time he expected me to look after his
business. My ignorance of business
methods is well illustrated by the following
incident: He went away, leaving a note of
something over three thousand dollars. It
was in the hands of a lawyer friend and
was not due. He told me he would send me
a draft to pay that note.
Page 89
Page 90TAKING A SACK IN EACH HAND, I TRUDGED
AWAY UP THE STREET.
Block after block was passed and finally I
went up the stairway and stood almost
breathless in the lawyer's office. Depositing
my treasure on a chair, I said: "Mr.
Anderson, that note is due today and I have
come to pay it." "All right, my boy, you could
have waited three days longer if you
wished,' was the lawyer's kind reply. I had
been impressed with the exact date and
thought it so fortunate that the steamer
arrived just the day before the note fell due.
I thought something awful would happen if it
was not promptly settled, when due. I knew
nothing of days of grace. "But what have
you in those sacks," queried the lawyer in a
kindly tone. "That's the money," I replied. Of
course the laugh was on me. There I got my
first lesson in banking. The draft endorsed
by me, would have suited him much better
than the two sacks of gold coin. So I was a
"gold bug" when William Jennings Bryan
was a kid, and I have never changed my
platform.
Page 91TO OAKLAND,
quite a nice town then - now a great city.
My brother had told me of an old friend of
his over there, Judge McKee, and I called
on him. I found him to be an intense
Southerner. His wife was a Miss Davis,
from Mississippi, a kinswoman of Jeff
Davis, afterwards President of the
Confederacy. It so happened that there was
to be a gathering of young people at his
house that night and they were all Southern
people. Of course I was not slow to accept
an invitation to remain over. Such a
company of fire-eating Southerners I had no
idea could be gotten together in California.
All the talk was about secession. All the
songs were of the South. I heard Dixie for
the first time. I had been boarding with a
New Bedford Yankee - an abolitionist, a
South hater. It required only a hint on the
part of my new friends to make a great
change in my living. I went to Oakland
College, selected a room, and two days
Page 92"HURRAH FOR JEFF DAVIS!"
Had I done so, I would have been torn
to pieces by crowds surging through the
streets. All business was suspended,
the streets were jammed. I bought a
Page 93
Page 94
Page 95
Page 97Chapter Three
Page 98MY FIRM RESOLVE
against ever again going on an ocean
steamer had to be broken. I was in a
condition of mind which would have
made me willing to attempt the trip in
a balloon. On November 30, 1861, I
took the steamer. On January 1st, I
reached my destination at Beloit, Wis.
The trip was full of interesting incidents,
but I mention only two. I made
the acquaintance on the steamer
of a Marylander, who had been
in California for many years. His
destination was Baltimore. He
expected to get through the lines and join
the Confederate cavalry. When we
reached New York, he gave me a little
Page 99
Page 100
Page 101THIS REQUIRED A LAY-OVER AT
PITTSBURG,
where my belongings had been stopped.
The day happened to be Sunday. Growing
tired of the hotel, I thought to walk
about the city some after dinner. Picking
up the city directory I glanced
through it curiously and chanted to see
the name "Crumpton." Over the river,
in Alleghaney City, there seemed to be
quite a family of them. I took the number
of the street and went in quest of
kins folk, not dreaming of trouble.
Finding the place, I rang the bell and
Page 102
Page 103
Page 104AT BELOIT, WISCONSIN,
or rather, four miles in the country,
I met a warm welcome from my
brother's old friends. He had met them
in California in the early days. I learned
also that there was a match brewing
between him and the oldest daughter,
which was afterwards consummated.
Page 105
Page 106THE FALL OF FT. DONELSON,
in Tennessee, was a fearful blow to me.
Of course there was great exultation
everywhere up North. I saw and heard
it all, but could say nothing. One day
while in Beloit, I saw a great crowd on
the sidewalk. Drawing near I discovered
the attraction. It was a butternut
jeans jacket, which had been taken off a
dead Confederate at Ft. Donelson. It
was shot through and was saturated
with blood. On it was a large placard
with these words:
Page 107
Page 109Chapter Four
Page 110
Page 111"LET MR. W. B. CRUMPTON INTO THE
CAMP TOMORROW."
As soon as I could get my breakfast
the next morning I was on my way to
the Camp. On entering the open gate,
I saw the barracks of an Alabama
regiment. The Barracks, were long, low
buildings. The Camp was laid off like
a city, with streets and alleys. I
entered the building at once and in a
moment was surrounded by a large number
of men. I said: "You are Alabamians,
and so am I. I have been to
California. I am on my way back. I
Page 112
Page 113
Page 114THIS IS THE FIRST LESSON I HAD IN
"SHUT-MOUTH"
and it has served me all my
days. You may be sure I did not
need a second invitation to remain
with them. Numbers of the boys talked
with me, and we had a pleasant day.
Late in the afternoon, my friend
conducted me in sight of another gate. I
divided my money with him and left.
I STARTED OUT AFOOT DOWN THE
RAILROAD.
Fifteen miles below was the town of
Calumet, now a part of the city; I
reached there about the middle of the
afternoon, and went into the eating
house by the railroad. There was a
Page 115FORTY FROGS SEEMED TO JUMP INTO
MY
THROAT.
I choked them down the best
Page 116
Page 117
Page 118TOOK THE TRAIN, WHICH WAS LOADED
DOWN WITH FEDERAL SOLDIERS,
going to Anna Station. They were
nearly all young men, in blue
uniforms and had large, well filled knapsacks.
I don't think I spoke a word to
anybody that day. If anybody asked
me a question, I answered only in
monosyllables. I saw those boys take
new Bibles out of their knapsacks and
begin to read them. Nearly every one
Page 119AT DAYLIGHT I STARTED WEST TO THE
MISSISSIPPI RIVER,
instead of East to Vienna. Taking
dinner with a farmer, who
was evidently in sympathy with
the Southern people, he said: "How
are you going to get across the river?"
I said: "Is there no ferry there?" "No,
there is a place where the ferry was,
but all the boats from St. Louis to Cairo
have been destroyed by the Federals,
except one belonging to a fisherman,
four miles above the old ferry; but he
is a Union man and would see you
dead before he would put you over."
About the middle of the afternoon I
reached the abandoned ferry. I
suppose the Mississippi River was lower
than it had ever been at that
Page 120
Page 121
Page 122
Page 123Chapter Five
Page 124THREE YEARS AFTER THEY SENT THE
PISTOL TO ME,
and I have it now as a souvenir of those
days.
Page 125
Page 126"THE ROAD IS FULL OF YANKEES."
Immediately the frogs leaped into
Page 127
Page 128