|
Editor's Note:
Readers of The Kentucky Explorer have been introduced to the
Rev. John J. Dickey in past issues. Remember that he was a traveling
preacher throughout the eastern part of the state during the
years between 1880 and 1925. He helped to establish numerous
churches and at least two colleges. He was also a teacher and
a newspaper editor. However, his most enduring gift to us today
may well be his diary that he kept faithfully during some 50
years of his later life beginning in the 1880s. In all, over
6,000 pages written in his own hand make up this interesting
digest.
In this journal of his, Dickey often wrote down accounts of events
daily. Much of the material concerns his day to day life. However,
during the late 1890s he began to gather family history on various
families he met in his travels. We are offering these interviews
to our readers in the hope that they will be appreciated in the
sense that Rev. Dickey intended. These interviews were written
word for word as they were given to Rev. Dickey. Nothing has
been changed.
James Gilbert
Manchester, Kentucky
February 23, 1898
I belonged
as a slave to John Gilbert, grandson of Rev. John Gilbert. I
was much with the old man when I was a boy. He used to take me
with him to his meetings. We would leave home and return Sunday.
At the close of the services on Sunday, I have often heard him
say, "If any of you have any bull yearlings to sell come
around and tell me what you will take for them." As we journeyed
homeward Sunday afternoon, it was his custom to call at the houses
we would pass and ask if they had any bull yearlings for sale.
By the time we would get home, we would frequently have anywhere
from five to ten. He always wore a hunting shirt, summer or winter.
In winter, he would have a large cape over it. In the bosom of
it, he would carry his lunch and other things. He had a great
fashion of saying "Dear me." He injected this into
everything he said. He was old when I knew him and his slaves
had become disobedient. His sight had partially failed. He would
lay plans to get hold of the boys or get near enough to them
to strike them as punishment for their rudeness. I have seen
him lay down the fence and then call these boys to lay it in
order to get them close to him. They would catch on; they would
lay up a rail keeping an eye on him and then stand aside out
of his reach. He has often told me that he was a spy in the Revolutionary
War. He said the Indians would disguise themselves in every possible
way to get to kill the whites. He discovered one wrapt in a hog
skin grunting and trying to make believe that he was a hog. He
saw the (disguise) deception and sent a rifle ball through him,
killing him. In stature, he was medium or a little above, would
weigh 180 pounds. His wife was a Sizemore, I think. During the
war, the rebels took 18 horses and mules from our folks, Mrs.
Felix Gilbert and her son, John, my master. We had herded them
into the woods for weeks, but thinking all danger had passed
we brought them in from the range and the very next day the rebels
came and took the last one of them. They left a poor sore backed
mare which we nourished up and managed to finish the crop of
corn with her. Then the Federals came along and took her. As
spring approached the next year we were casting about to know
what to do that we might raise a crop. The Federals came along
and left a tired horse in good flesh, and we made a crop with
him. He was never taken from us. During the Christmas holidays,
immediately preceding freedom, my master gave me $75. He had
always treated me with great kindness. I worked for him then
at $14 per month. I was always treated well as a slave. I was
17 years old when I was set free. The colored people of Clay
County did not belong to the churches, at least very few of them.
Old man Findley has a Baptist church at Newberry Gap and John
Gilbert lived near his home. I forgot to tell you how old Mr.
John Gilbert fell out with me. Returning from a preaching trip
I said to him, "Old Master, you preach the gospel and know
what is right better then I do, but why don't you buy those bull
yearlings Friday and Saturday as you go to meeting, and then
set a day and then come back and take them home?" "You
little villain, I'll not take you with me anymore," was
his reply. It was usually after night when we would reach home
when we had cattle to drive. There were no wagon roads beyond
Red Bird then; we followed bridle paths. We used to go to where
Hyden now stands. He had a log church just above Hyden at Rock
House. We always got home Sunday night. He always rode a good
horse.
|
