ries of the county, the Indian, steadily driven before the advancing front of civilization, found a safe asylum in the wilds of the west. The first families, therefore, who planted themselves here permanently to remain, were subjected to a close intimacy with the savages. Happily, however, they were not seriously molested, as the tribes noted for fell barbarities failed to visit this immediate region.

Pioneer life had its pleasures, but also, its hardships and dangers; and the latter far more than counterbalanced the former. To leave home and kindred and friends, the attachments of early associations, the scenes of childhood, the influences of education and refinement, and every fond endearment that binds one to the place of his birth, or to the subjects of his parental esteem; to venture far out on the western border, where animated and inanimated nature are alike unreclaimed, to face the perils and endure the hardships of frontier life, required a high order of couragea resolution not easily baffled—an iron will. This is quite as it should be; those who stock a country with inhabitants should be of the very best character, morally, intellectually and physically. So were the men and women who came to people the then remote northwestern frontier of Missouri territory-all of which subsequently became, and the richest portion of which is now Ray county.

In writing of the pioneers of this county, the reader will understand that our meaning is broad enough to include those who settled within its original limits, from the Missouri river to the Iowa line.

They may have been, as a rule, illiterate, because school advantages were extremely meager; some of them-many of them-were wild and wayward, for they lived on the "outskirts of civilization," and had to battle with the hardships of frontier life. The ruffian anon stole into their midst, but he was not of them-yet among them and of them were Christians; and if there were no church buildings, the groves-"God's first temples"-in summer, and the primitive dwelling of some pious neighbor in winter, afforded them a sacred fane for the worship of the Infinite One. They wore "hodden gray"-cloth woven by the frugal house-wife from nettles, gathered by the boys from the woods and river bottoms; aye, they wore even the tanned skins of wild animals; and dined on "homely fare." But what of that, they were honest men.

They occasionally fought, it is true, but fought like men-forgave each other, and were friends. Prejudice, jealousy or suspicion found no lodgment in their hearts; neither was there room there for treachery or deception. They spurned all littleness, scorned bickering and smothered the flames of rankling revenge. They worshipped no god but God, and looked with contempt on the fawning sycophant, the sharker and the charlatan. Of their number, the modern "politician" was not one. While their independence of thought gave each an opinion of his own,

the one respected the views of every other. Individuality asserted itself in their adherence to different political parties, but they were wedded to no organization, and in reality, their test of merit for public official position, was the Jeffersonian test. The pioneer is not a time-server; he loves independence.

Among the females, the "common scold" was unknown. A venial fault was not expanded to a crime. A neighbor's misfortune caused them genuine sorrow. They were frugal, but not sordid; liberal, not lavish; cheerful and diligent. Vanity failed to entice them. They were happy in their homespun garb. They were content to work. The husband, home at night, "free from care, from labor free," was lulled to rest by the steady whir of the spinning-wheel. Their ready hands shaped fells into garments, drove the shuttle, swayed the batten, whirled the distaff—and their owners were never peevish, because never idle.

Such was the character, with rare exceptions, of the men and women, who left their homes in Tennessee, Virginia, Kentucky, and other southern states, to participate in the settlement, ultimately in the organization, and to contribute to the growth and prosperity of Ray county; from among whom her first officers were chosen, and of whom many of her best citizens of to-day are descendants. But they are gone, let us hope, to dwell with "just men made perfect." We know that, on earth, theirs were the homes of peace and contentment; that they dwelt together in harmony, in love.

"Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics.
Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows;
But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of their owners."

EARLY SETTLEMENTS AND SETTLERS.

The first settlers within the boundaries afterwards embracing Ray county, came in the summer of 1815.

The country was not a wilderness, not a dreary waste; it was a broad expanse of diversified area, rich, productive, beautiful; but undeveloped, unpolished by the hand of art, undisturbed in the embrace of nature's God.

The pioneers' old fashioned Virginia wagons, covered with white canvas, drawn by three horses, forming a "spike team," guided by a single line attached to the rein of the leader's bridle, and in the hands of a driver seated on the rear horse at the left wheel, halted on the east bank of Crooked river, not far above its mouth. It was August. The trees were crowned with luxuriant foliage. The forest was resonant with its own music, and redolent of summer's perfume. Spread out before

the travel-worn immigrant in all its pristine beauty, nature's handiwork presented a scene too inviting to pass. The opposite was the more attractive shore, but the stream was swollen, and how to cross was a problem to solve. It was quickly done. Trees were felled, a raft made, and the party swimming their horses, passed safe to the other shore, and went into camp. Thus, though its privations continued for a time, a long and toilsome journey, all the way from the sterile hills of East Tennessee, was brought to a welcome ending; and the first white families, who paused to remain. west of Grand river from the Missouri to the Iowa line, passed the first night within what afterwards became the limits of Ray county. Their tents and canvased wagons afforded them sufficient shelter for the summer and early fall, but not from the rigors of winter. Quarters more substantial and capacious had to be built of logs, and ere this work could be completed, autumn's golden glamour was fading in the “ sear and yellow leaf." Winter was coming on apace, and soon

"The embattled forests, erewhile armed with gold,

Their banners bright with every martial hue,

Stood like some sad, beaten host of old,

Withdrawn afar in Time's remotest blue."

But their hovels were finished in time to shield them from the severity of winter, and that season was doubtless passed with little suffering and in comparative comfort, considering the proximity of savages and ferocious wild animals.

The place of the first settlements was called Buffalo, probably because frequented by that animal, and was not far from the present site of Hardin, in what is now Crooked River township, in the southeastern part of the county.

The settlement at Buffalo, or the Buffalo settlement, more properly, perhaps, was made by immigants from Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia. The very first settler was John Vanderpool, a Tennessean. He located, as above stated, on the west side of Crooked river; in August, 1815. With him was his wife, Ellen Vanderpool, and the following children: Winant, Meaddors, Kinman, Mary, Delilah, Holland, and John. Lydia and James were born in Ray county. The latter, at the age of seven years, was drowned in the Missouri river. Winant, Kinman and Delilah, are dead; the rest still living. Meaddors is living in Oregon, and although ninety years of age, continues to survey land. He, in 1819, taught the first school ever taught in Ray county. He also surveyed this county, and afterwards Chariton, Clay, Carroll, and Caldwell. His life has been one of many hardships, of continued labor, yet he is still active and energetic. Mary and John also reside in Oregon. Holland, to whom the writer is indebted for much interesting information concerning the early history of the county, is still a resident of Ray, making

his home with a friend near Richmond. Ray county has been his home from early childhood, and he is now in his seventy-sixth year. No man knows any harm of Holland Vanderpool; he is a true Christian, innocent, emotional and warm-hearted. The entire family is remarkable for longevity. John Vanderpool lived to be quite old, and his father died at the advanced age of one hundred and nine.

Isaac Martin, who came from Kentucky, Lewis Richards, and Stephen and Joseph Field, from Tennessee, settled in the Buffalo neighborhood the same year. Isaac Martin became prominent as a local politician; was among the first representatives of the county in the general assembly, and held other county offices. He was unlettered, but of strong natural sense, and was a good neighbor, and a true gentleman. In one of his races for the legislature, Martin's competitor was Dr. W. P. Thompson, a Virginian, an educated, as well as a most worthy gentleman. A public meeting was held at old Bluffton. Dr. Thompson made a speech of some length, in which he mentioned with an air of pride, that he was from Virginia, and modestly referred to his scholarship and the school from which he graduated. Martin replied in the following words:

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Gentlemen and fellow-citizens : I was born in Kentucky. I never went to school but three days in my life; the third day I whipped the teacher and left. What little I got was in the field, and it's right in here;" (pointing to his head).

Martin was a democrat, and was elected. Living in the county at that time was a poor old man, named Wallace, a revolutionary soldier, who had never received a pension. Approaching Martin, he told him of this neglect, whereupon Martin replied: "Old man, I appreciate your services in the cause of independence; rest assured that I'll see that you get the pension you justly deserve." The pension was secured through Martin's efforts, and the old soldier lived to the end of his few remaining years in comparative comfort.

The following year, 1816, Abraham Linville, Aaron Linville, John Proffitt, and a man named Wood, with their families, joined the first settlers. They were all from Tennessee.

From this first settlement are derived, of course, the first incidents of early history. We mention some of them, as follows:

The first marriage solemnized between persons living within the present boundaries of Ray county, was that of Winant Vanderpool to Miss Nancy Linville, about Christmas, 1815. There being no minister in the neighborhood, they were compelled to go many miles eastward to find one to perform the ceremony.

A son born to Katie, wife of John Proffitt, in the year 1816, was the first white male child born in the county; but it died in infancy.

Missouri, daughter of Winant and Nancy Vanderpool, born in 1816,

was the first female child born in what subsequently became Ray county The father, an Old School Baptist preacher, is now dead. The mother as well as the daughter, are still living, the former in Mercer county.

The first death was that of an infant son, mentioned above, of John Proffitt and wife, occurring in 1816, followed soon after by the death of Peggy, daughter of W. and Nancy Vanderpool. Both decedents were buried on Crooked river, in the Buffalo settlement.

Dr. William P. Thompson, from Virginia, an educated, genial, and obliging gentleman, was the first practicing physician. He died in Grundy county, Missouri.

Reverend Finis Clark, of the Baptist denomination, Old School, was the first preacher. He was a good man; one among many others, who wore and wears religion not as a cloak to conceal the designs of a wicked heart. The first religious services were held at the house of Isaac Martin. In the winter season preaching was held in the neighbors dwellings. In the summer time

The

Men carried their guns to church, not to shoot their fellow-man, but to defend themselves against the attacks of wild animals. They also wore leather breeches, hunting-shirts, moccasins, and coon-skin caps. ladies were attired in dresses of cloth, made from nettles, gathered from the bottoms, after partially decaying, and "broken," as flax. They also wore leathern aprons.

The first school house was built by the settlers on Ogg's branch, in section four, township fifty-one, range twenty-eight. The thing built was but a rude, unsightly hut. The logs were unhewn; the roof was of rough boards, weighted to the rafters with heavy poles; the chimney was made of sticks, and the floor was the naked ground. The seats were puncheons, set on pegs, inserted into holes near either end. The writing desk was of the same material, but larger, and placed on longer pegs. A log, taken from either side of the house, and the apertures closed with greased paper, formed the windows. A hobby-horse stood in the corner, for the accommodation of refractory pupils.

In this house, in the spring and summer of 1819, was taught the first school ever taught in the county, and Meaddors Vanderpool was the teacher. It was a subscription school, and the master was paid in calves, buck-skins, and wild honey.

All the first settlers did their own domestic labor. The weaving of cloth was done at home by mothers and daughters, and, in many cases, as