Stories of Old Kentucky Part 11

THE MAN WHO KNEW ABOUT BIRDS

Kentucky is noted for her great hunters, Indian fighters, orators, and statesmen. But there also lived in this state for awhile--some of the time at Louisville, part of the time at Henderson--a man who knew more about birds than any one had ever learned before.

This was John James Audubon. He was born in Louisiana near New Orleans, and lived several years in France, where he enjoyed every luxury. In after life, when he spent many years traveling through the forest, hunting, and studying the birds,--their homes and their habits,--he often went for days and days with very primitive food. He said his first recollections were of his home in the South, where he would lie among the flowers and listen to the songs of the mocking birds. While yet a boy he gathered birds' nests, birds' eggs, curious stones, and moss. He would kill and stuff the birds; but these failed to satisfy him, as their plumage was not bright like that of the live birds. So he began to make _pictures_ of the birds instead. This was done many, many times before he was satisfied, for he wanted lifelike pictures of his feathered friends.

He married a young lady in Pennsylvania, and brought her down the Ohio in a flat-bottomed float called an ark,--a rather tiresome method for a wedding trip.

He entered into business in Louisville with bright prospects, but hunting and studying birds had more fascination for Audubon than trade.

Finally, compet.i.tion becoming too strong, he and his partner shipped their goods to Henderson or Hendersonville; but business not being good, and the roving instinct strong, the stay was brief, and Audubon made another change.

A few years later he returned to Henderson when he, with several partners, attempted to operate a steam mill; but the place was not suitable, every one concerned lost his money, and Audubon departed with only his sick wife, gun, drawings, and dog. Still he never despaired.

Audubon spent most of his time in Kentucky, rambling in the wilds, and persons in both Louisville and Henderson have often spoken of seeing him come in with his great quota of game. He said Kentucky was a "sort of promised land for all sorts of wandering adventurers."

[Ill.u.s.tration: John James Audubon.]

While Audubon enjoyed, to the fullest, studying his favorite subject, birds, yet there were many difficulties to encounter and many deprivations to undergo. He had to travel many thousand miles, sometimes using the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of wild turkeys for bread and bear's grease for b.u.t.ter, sometimes living on only fruits and roots, sometimes having to quit this enchanting work for a while and turn dancing master or artist to procure funds.

After Audubon had traveled, studied, written, and made many hundred drawings, rats got into his box and cut up all his papers; for a while he was almost heartbroken and could scarcely eat or sleep. Finally, with true courage, he said, "I will make more drawings and make them better than any the rats cut up." So he persevered and, with the aid of his wife, who encouraged and inspired him in his great work, and gladly gave of her salary as a teacher to defray expenses, he at last went to Europe to arrange for its publication.

He was made a member of the Royal Society at Edinburgh, concerning which he wrote his faithful wife, "So, poor Audubon, if not rich, thou wilt be honored at least and held in high esteem among men." In another letter he said, "I have run the gantlet of Europe and may be proud of two things,--I am considered the first ornithological painter and the first practical naturalist of America." His "Birds of America" contains pictures of one thousand sixty-five birds, natural size. His work has been called the "most magnificent monument that has been erected to ornithology," and all over our land Audubon Societies have been formed to protect our friends in feathers.

A HERO OF HONOR

It takes neither the excitement of war nor the curious conditions of the far Orient to prove a man a hero of the highest type. Martial music, the roar of the cannon, the thud of the musket, and the flash of the saber have inspired many men to deeds of valor. We find incontrovertible evidence of this in every battle's record. These are accepted as facts with no fancy interwoven. But when we read of how Damon offered to stay in the place of his friend, Pythias, condemned to death, with the knowledge that if Pythias did not return by the hour appointed for the execution, he, himself, would be called upon to make the sacrifice; how he prayed that his friend would fail to come, but how that friend, by every conceivable plan, purposely came in time to accept his fate,--we sometimes wonder if any friendship could withstand such a test or any person's pledge be held in such exalted estimation.

In the early days of Kentucky, when the shrill whistle of the locomotive had not yet reverberated among the hills, when the red schoolhouse was not found in every locality, nor the moonlight schools had wiped out illiteracy among the mountaineers, there dwelt in Lewis County a man by the name of Larkin Liles. He was the hardy son of a hardy race, who hunted and trapped, lived and loved; and while he knew not a letter of the alphabet, had never attended school a day in his life, nor heard the golden rule, yet his rugged honesty and high sense of honor can never be surpa.s.sed. The "benevolent qualities of head and heart by a primeval decree are not dependent on education, for although it enlightens and enlarges the mind of man, it does not always enn.o.ble it." So this man, versed in naught but the backwoodsman's lore, gave the world a lesson in honor.

On one occasion, when at Vanceburg in the above-named county, and while under the influence of whiskey, he became involved in a rough-and-tumble fight with very serious results. For this offense he was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to serve one year in the penitentiary. It so happened that the sheriff of Lewis County at this time was a personal friend of "Jay-bird" Liles, and knew the soul of honor hidden by this rough exterior.

After leaving the courtroom, the prisoner, in a voice husky with emotion, said, "Uncle Buck,"--everyone called the sheriff of Lewis County by this t.i.tle,--"Uncle Buck, won't you let me go home and get in my winter's wood and fix to have my corn c.r.a.p gathered, to fatten my hogs, to keep the young-uns on? Then I's come over to Clarksburg and go with ye to the penitentiary."

Sheriff Parker asked, "How long will it take ye, Jay-bird?"

"About two weeks," he replied.

Then the magnanimity of the man shone forth,--some might say overcame the discretion of the officer,--when the sheriff replied, "Go ahead and do it." But so well did he know the pride with which "Jay-bird" Liles kept a promise, that he was as confident of his return at the promised time, as was Damon that Pythias would return.

The wood was cut, an arrangement was made concerning the crop, the good-by kiss was given to his weeping wife and helpless babes, and, feeling he was going on such a distant trip that he would never again return, Larkin Liles, just two weeks to the day and hour from the time of the above conversation, walked into the sheriff's office ready to be taken to Frankfort.

When he told "Uncle Buck" that he was ready to start, the sheriff shook his hand and told him to spend the night with him, and on the morrow they would take the boat for Maysville, and from there go by stage to Lexington, and on to Frankfort. Again "Jay-bird's" voice trembled as he thought of the disgrace of being publicly taken by the sheriff to the penitentiary; and again he made a most singular request. "Say, Uncle Buck, I'd rather not do it. You go that way; but let me take my gun and walk through the mountains to Frankfort, won't ye? I'd rather do that, and maybe I might kill some game on the road. I'll meet you on any spot, on any day you appoint."

What do you suppose the sheriff replied? Looking him straight in the eye he answered, "All right, Jay-bird, suit yourself. Frankfort lies right in yon direction; you can't miss it. When you reach Frankfort, go straight to the governor's office and tell him what you are there for, if I don't get there first."

Then this rugged mountaineer, this unlettered, unpolished son of the hills, with honor as his watchword, dressed in the primitive style of the time and place, with his trusty rifle, started over the hills, through vales, and across streams to meet the sheriff at Frankfort, one hundred and fifty miles away, where he would hear the lock snap as it closed the door that would shut him in from freedom and friends.

Early one June morning, two days later, before the people of Frankfort were abroad, a tall, gaunt, determined-looking backwoodsman, in buckskin clothes and a c.o.o.nskin cap, looking as if he belonged to the days of Daniel Boone, made his way to the governor's mansion and quietly seated himself on a stone. As Governor Clark started from the mansion after breakfast, he was astonished to see this man of the mountains, who quickly inquired, "Say, Mister, be you the governor?"

"Yes, my man, I am the governor. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Governor, my name is Larkin Liles, and I come up here from Lewis County to get into the penitentiary for one year. Hed you saw anything of Buck Parker?"

Utterly astounded, Governor Clark asked, "Who is Buck Parker?"

"Why, Buck Parker is the high sheriff of Lewis County, Kaintucky. I thought everybody knowed that. We all call him 'Uncle Buck' Parker. He was to come by stage and meet me here. I walked through."

While Governor Clark was eying him and trying to realize that such unheard-of proceedings had actually happened, "Jay-bird" said anxiously, "Say, Governor, the sheriff ain't here yit, and I don't want to lose no time. Can't you let me into the penitentiary and tell Buck Parker whar he can find me when he comes?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Well, Governor, my name is Larkin Liles."]

More astonished than ever, Governor Clark said, "Have you had your breakfast, Mr. Liles?"

With a shake of the head, "Jay-bird" said that he had traveled all night and upon reaching the city had come straight to the governor. The governor at once took him in, gave him his breakfast, and told him to go over to the capitol, until he could learn more about the case.

Ten hours later, the sheriff came by stage and soon found "Jay-bird" at the governor's office. When the sheriff introduced himself to Governor Clark, the governor immediately asked if it was a fact that this man, condemned to a year of confinement and hard work in the penitentiary, had trudged on foot alone all the way from Lewis County. When told it was just as "Jay-bird" had said, the governor, in amazement, asked, "Is the man crazy? Couldn't he have escaped?"

"Easily, and all the sheriffs, constables, and rewards could never have caught him. No, 'Jay-bird' is not simple; he is only honest." The governor was so interested he asked for all the details.

Then "Uncle Buck" told of the fight, the trial, and the conviction, of how "Jay-bird" had kept his word when permitted to go to say good-by to his loved ones, of his long life of honesty and hospitality, and of how he had begged to come alone on foot to Frankfort, rather than as a common, convicted felon.

With a heart heaving with emotion and eyes dim with tears, the executive hastily affixed his name and the seal of the commonwealth to a small piece of paper, and, handing it to Larkin Liles, said in a husky voice, "Mr. Liles, go home to your family and kiss the little ones for me. You shall never enter the penitentiary while Clark is governor of Kentucky."

THE "PRIDE OF THE PENNYRILE"[3]

It is eminently proper that the metropolis of "Jackson's Purchase"

should bear a name of Indian origin. Although the greater part of Kentucky, with its fertile meadowlands, towering forests, and tangled cane-brakes, was only the hunting ground of the red men, yet all that territory in Kentucky and Tennessee lying between the Tennessee and Mississippi rivers was the home of the Chickasaw Indians. This large tribe had their main town at Chickasaw Bluffs, where Memphis now stands, with a number of other settlements scattered throughout this seven million acres of fertile lands.

As Kentucky was once a part of Virginia, and as the "Old Dominion" was a British colony, this section was once claimed by Great Britain. After the Revolutionary War, Virginia, relying on the former policy of the mother country, that,

"They should take who have the power, And they should keep who can,"

allowed George Rogers Clark, in recognition of his services in the Northwest Territory, to enter several thousand acres of land, including the present site of the capital of McCracken County.

At that time there were no white settlements in this section; but as early as the year 1806 or 1807 there was a flatboat landing and woodyard at the mouth of the Tennessee River, kept by a genial Irishman named Pat Dugan. The first name given the place, and the one by which it was known for many years, was Pekin.

On October 19, 1818, through Governor Isaac Shelby and General Andrew Jackson, commissioners, the United States bought from the Chickasaw Indians their tract referred to above, which in the present state of Kentucky includes the counties of Ballard, Calloway, Carlisle, Fulton, Graves, Hickman, Marshall, and McCracken.

For many years the hero of Kaskasia, Cahokia, and Vincennes had been infirm and poor. We all remember the touching scene when the Virginia commission presented him a sword in recognition of his great services to the United States; the old soldier listened in gloomy silence for a while and, finally, thrusting the sword into the ground and breaking it, he exclaimed, "When Virginia needed a sword I found one. Now I want bread!" By the treaty just mentioned the t.i.tle of George Rogers Clark was made clear, but as he had died a few months previous to this his tract pa.s.sed to his brother, General William Clark, of St. Louis, who had accompanied Meriwether Lewis on the noted Lewis and Clark Expedition.