Frank M. Allara Library Special Collections and Archives (Univ. of Pikeville)
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Francis Farm
No full textThe Francis Farm, located at Johns Creek, was a working farm used by the college. It was later mined for coal and then sold
Francis Farm
No full textThe Francis Farm, located at Johns Creek, was a working farm used by the college. It was later mined for coal and then sold
Page 13, Folk Tales of the Cumberlans
No full textA book of collected essays on life in the Appalachian mountains, created by the English Eleven students of Pikeville College, circa 1927.QUILTING
By Ray Williamson
The big fire was blazing in the old open fire place because it was very
cold, nat a snowy day but just cold with the wind blowing. A bige ket-
tle hung over the fire with dried beans boiling in it. Mrs. Jackson
wanted to make sure she would have enough to eat.
Mrs. Jackson, had fixed three quilts to be quilted during the day. first
she had driven four nails into the loft trying astrings to each one and
letting the strings come down to the quilting frames and attaching them to the end of the frames, almost make a square. She had the quilts
all fixed in so as to be ready for quilting and she had one in each room
except the combined dining room and kitchen.
Then about 8:30 O’clock Mrs. Blair entered with a hustle bustle, peppy
attitude exclaiming as she did.
“Am I late?”
“Oh, no, no, not at all, no one is here yet.” replied Mrs. Jackson.
“Well now I hope that they won’t fergit to bring plenty of thimbles or
that you have a good supply one, I git so tired of allus havin’ to loan mine.”
“I told ‘em to bring one; you know I only have about three,” replied
Mrs. Jackson.
“Oh! here comes some women, we can start right to work,” said Mrs. Blair.
And some it was. In came Mrs. Smith, and her daughter Mrs. Scott, Mrs.
Young, Mrs. Adams, and the Blackwood sisters, and old Aunt Matilda Johns,
In they came wearing bonnets and shawls, laughing and talking, showing
each other their thimbles each telling how long she had had hers, and
that it was the only one she could use. Some brought needles, too.
Each got a chair and started to quilting the first thing, some in one
room and some in the others. They would quilt as far as they could reach
across the quilt and then give the frame enough turns to fill up what
they had already quilted and start at each end again quilting up to the
rows they had made first.
They worked until dinner time without stopping to rest unless occasion-
aly a lady would drop out to smoke her pipe, and one or two broke her
needles and had to stop long enough to get a new one.
The conversation floated something like this:
“Well now did you hear about Farmer Brown’s daughter running away and
marryin Joe Thacker?”, asked Mrs. Blair.
“Yep, and they say her ma hain’t gonna let her come home anymore”, re-
plied Mrs. Scott.
“Well, now I’ll tell youn’s right now one of mine had better never run
away”, said Mrs. Blair.
Then someone would try to change the subject from all the community’s
affairs and take it to quilting. But Mrs. Blair just would say something
every few minutes, until a remark was heard from Aunt Mateldia in the
other room.
“We didn’t come here to talk about all the neighbors that are not here,
but to try to quilt some for Mrs. Jackson”, as she gave her needle a
jerk making a row of stitches through the quilt, which looked as if it
should have been three or four needles full instead of one. No one wan-
ted to hurt auntie’s feeling, not even Mrs. Blair, so the conversation
drifted to the quilts that they had made during the winter and how many
more they needed.
Then came dinner and what a dinner it was! Chicken and dumplings, cho-
colate pie, cake, and peaches, creamed potatoes and peas, cabbage, dried
beans, dried apple pies, apple butter, pumpkin pies, and jelly preserves,
and how they did eat.
After dinner some washed the dishes, others smoked their pipes, while
some went back to quilting. This lasted until about four O’clock when
they finished the three quilts and almost another before they left. When
they were “breaking up”, as they called it, each one invied every body
to go home with her, and spoke of when she was going to have a quilting
and that everybody must be sure and be there
Page 30, Folk Tales of the Cumberlans
No full textA book of collected essays on life in the Appalachian mountains, created by the English Eleven students of Pikeville College, circa 1927.FACT
Page 33, Folk Tales of the Cumberlans
No full textA book of collected essays on life in the Appalachian mountains, created by the English Eleven students of Pikeville College, circa 1927.Without giving him time to say more or move on, the negro pulled his gun and shot the
man to death under the wheel. He then ran off, the women following him.
Mr. Dayton’s friend drove on to Jenkins and set the police on the negroe’s trail. Late
that night they caught him in the mountain and threw him into jail at Whitesburg, Ky.
He confessed to the killing and said if he had had another cartridge he would have
killed the other man too.
The next night a furious mob of three hundred men demanded the key from the jailer.
He, knowing it meant death if he refused, gave them the key. They threw the negro
into a car and with yells and curses drove him to his doom at Pound Gap. Pound Gap
is located on top of the Cumberland Mountain on the Virginia, Kentucky line. Here
on a big cliff overlooking Jenkins they hung him up in a tree. This act was followed
by a volley of balls from the guns of the enraged mob, tearing the negroe’s body to
pieces after this his clothes were saturated with gasoline and burned. They left
the body there and some negroe’s came and put it into a toolbox and carried him around
the hill on the opposite side of the road from where the killing took place and bur-
ried him under the pines.
This grave has been visited by hundreds of people who heard or read the story, until
recently the pines and other trees have been cut and the grave logged ivcy until
there’s no trace of the “Lynched negroe’s Grave In The Pines.”
DEATH OF JOHN HARDY
By Creatic Coleman
The first hanging in Virginia was that of John Hardy. The place at which it occurred
is located on Big Sandy River near Grundy, Virginia.
Mr. Hardy was accused of murder and his penality was death by hanging. When the time
came for him to be put to death, people went from everywhere to take the last look at
their friend, Mr. Hardy. My father was a very small boy but he remembers the time
quite will. He and my grandmother told men the story.
Mr. Hardy and his wife rode to the scaffold on the coffin in which he was to be
buried. She was dressed in blue and red as we have heard in the song.
When the time was up for him to die he asked to be allowed to sing a song that ex-
plained why he was on the scaffold. I was told that he composed the song as he sang
it.
An old rule, not carried out in this case, said that if the rope should break, the
criminal was to go free. The third time Mr. Hardy was placed on the scaffold he met
his death. The hangman that did the work gave up his office saying, “If God will
forgive me, I’ll never hang another.”
WHEN CARS FIRST CAME TO FLOYD? VIRGINIA
By Anne Lancaster
This is the story of a true incident which I have heard my mother tell many times. It
was very unusual to see a car pass along the road and very few people owned a car.
So when our doctor bought a car and actually drove it himself, everyone would run to
the road and watch him pass.
The doctor thought he knew how to drive well enough to take his wife for a car ride.
His wife got in the back seat and he sat in the front seat, warning his wife that he
wanted no backseat driver.
He started down the road driving pretty fast and ran over a bump, which knocked his
wife out of the car into the middle of the road. The doctor didn’t know anything a-
bout it, but drove on ahead and not until he go home and found his wife raving mad
did he know that he had thrown her out. She wasn’t hurt at all but scared nearly to
death, and vowed that she would never ride with him again.
“BAD JIM”
By Ruth Wright
My mother-in-law’s sister married a manknown as “Bad Jim.” He was considered the
meanest man in the community.
One night he and a gang of drunk men broke into a house where two old ladies lived
alone. they cursed and abused them, shot dishes off the table, rode their horse in
the house and tore up every thing.
One of the women was sick and unable to make any effort to escape. The other managed
to get her outside and carried and dragged her as best as she could, out a little way
from the house. The excitement was too great for her and the fell dead. The other
woman went to a neighbor for help. The drunken men where gone when they returned.
That night “Bad Jim” slept with his gun under his pillow. This made his wife sus-
picion something and she began to inquire what he done, but he denied having done
anything wrong
Page 38, Folk Tales of the Cumberlans
No full textA book of collected essays on life in the Appalachian mountains, created by the English Eleven students of Pikeville College, circa 1927.Others tried unsuccessfully, and it was finally finished by Tom Davis,
another Welchman, in 1853. The entire work was done by a hand-drill and
at a cost of 500 dollars of black powder. Sic Dollars to Tom Davis for
completing the tunnel, not counting the powder furnished by Mr. Leslie.
The large millstones for this mill were cut by Bill Ramey out of Mail-
grit stone of his farm near the “Breaks of Big Sandy,” with the aid of
an axle. With a yoke of oxen, Ramey rolled these stones to Pikeville
where they lay for about two years on the street corner across from the public
square. In 1852 they were removed to John’s creek to the home of
John Bevins, where they were faced and furrowed. Pharmer Leslie, assist-
ed by George Bevins, and John Hale, brought the rock from Pikeville on
a heavy sled drawn by five yoke of oxen to John’s Creek.
This mill is still in good shape. It is grinding a bushel of corn
every thirty minutes.
BLOWING ROCK
By Vertie Bartley, Mary Elaine Jones, Mrs. Nina Coleman
Blowing Rock is located on the border of Kentucky and Virginia, in the
Cumberland Mountains. This mountain range has many cliffs in it, and
seems to be one continuous stone cliff for about two and a half miles.
However, there is only the one section known as Blowing Rock.
This cliff is approximately five hundred foot in height, and is barren.
There are only a few persons living near the rock; in fact, there is
only one family living within half a mile of it.
Blowing Rock gets its name from a hole which extends from the center
top of the rock to the ground. The wind never ceases to blow through
this hole, even in the hottest summer weather. The wind is cool, and
one stays too near he will probably feel the effects of this cool wind.
There is an old legend that if one throws a hat, handkerchief, or other
light-weight article over the rock, it will be blown back to him. Many
persons have tried this, and some of them say that the legend is true.
It all depends upon the way the article is thrown over, for it the wind
Is not allowed to get under it, it will not be blown back.
The scenery around the cliff is beautiful. Not only are the immediate
Scenes universal, but so are those which extend for miles in the dis-
tance toward the coast. The view from the top of the cliff toward the
bottom, on the Kentucky side, is terrifying, but the height of the
jagged rock adds to tis grandeur.
AN OLD TIME WEDDING
By Forest Stamper
The wedding took place more than sixty years ago. It was just west of
the Boar Track and at the place where the old North Fork road crossed
the headwaters of Calf Pen Branch, by a little waterfall some fifty yards
south of the Beattyville-Irvine Highway.
The Uncle Joe of this story was the pioneer of early days. The woman
in the case was a widow, Cynthia Carter, whose husband had been killed
in the Civil War. The Squire was George S. Williams, a magistrate in
the Proctor District of Owsley County.
When Uncle Joe began going to see the widow the neighbors agreed that
it would be a good match. Both were frugal and industrious and both
were nearly alone.
So one day he “just pintly went a-purpose”
“I’m shore she’s willing, so I’ll jest go and ax her,” he said to him-
self.
But by the time he reached the widow’s gate he was beginning to feel
A little nervous and hesitant about just how to ask her the question.
Luck was with Uncle Joe for no sooner had he come to the big plum in
the widow’s orchard than he heard a great racket up in it and a shrill
voice saying:
“Git outen there, Blue Feather, and git to the hen-house. I’m not go-
ing to let you set up in this here tree and freeze by yourself this
winter.”
“Come right down outen that tree, Cynthia, I’m not going to let you sta[y]
Up there nor no wheres else and freeze by yourself this winter.” “Nor
No other winter,” blurted out Uncle Joe, catching at his chance with a
Sudden inspiration
Page 1, Folk Tales of the Cumberlans
No full textA book of collected essays on life in the Appalachian mountains, created by the English Eleven students of Pikeville College, circa 1927.FOLK TALES OF THE CUMBERLAN’S
ENGLISH ELEVEN, PIKEVILLE COLLEG
Pikeville, Kentucky
No full textThe back of the photo says, "1908?" The large building in the back appears to be Derriana Hall, girls' dorm of Pikeville College
