Mirinda Piper (later Andrews) was the eldest living child of the traveling Baptist preacher Beverly Bradley Piper and his first wife, Delia Deborah Norton. At the beginning of 1853 the family were living in Farmersville, Indiana, a tiny town in the southwest corner of the state, close to the junction of the Wabash and Ohio Rivers. Mirinda turned 13 in July of that year.
1853
We
had now been living three years in one place, longer than I had ever lived in
the same place before. Father was getting restless. The Baptists where he and
Mother visited in the spring before in southern Ohio were urging him to come
and preach for them. You will take notice that as they paid no fixed salary a
preacher was not at all bound to any one church. If he wanted to move he just
packed up and went. There was sometimes a little grumbling. Father always
seemed to be in good demand among his members, and I have been told by some of
them that he ranked as a first class preacher among them. Mother was always
ready to go when Father was, and we children liked the novelty and change,
though I disliked leaving some of my friends. Father sold the farm and we
concluded to move to Hamilton, Ohio.
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| Steamship at Mt. Vernon, Indiana |
Where
we had been living, we were very near the Ohio River. Mount Vernon is situated
on its banks, and we started from there on a steamboat. We went as far as
Louisville and stopped at an old friend of Father’s who had often urged him to
visit him with his family. We stayed there one day and one night. I don’t know
how the rest of the family enjoyed themselves, but I wasn’t very happy there,
although the family treated us very kindly. The man was a wealthy provision
dealer named A. L. Shotwell[i].
Their house was far grander than anything I had ever seen. They had ten Negro
house servants (slaves). The children had beautiful clothes, and altogether I
felt very shabby and out of my element and was very glad when we started for
the wharf to get on a steamboat bound for Cincinnati. The young lady of the
family presented me with ten paper covered novels, but Mother burnt them before
I had time to read but one or two.
 |
This is the route up the Ohio River from Mt. Vernon
to Hamilton, Ohio, just north of Cincinnati. It would
have been over 300 miles to go this way. |
Again
we were on the river, and how grand the ladies’ cabin was—but I enjoyed
everything on the boat, because the feeling was very different from being in a
private house that I had no share in—in a certain way I had a share in the
boat, it belonged to me quite as much as it did to the other passengers. We
arrived in Cincinnati and did not stay there any length of time but went
immediately to the cars. It was the first time any of us children had seen a
railroad train. My brother Asa was very much surprised that the cars did not
travel faster. “Why,” he said, “I thought they almost flew.”
We
went to a station beyond Hamilton where Mother and we children were to stay
with a Baptist family while Father went preaching for two weeks. We found a very
pleasant old couple with two old maid daughters to receive us. They lived on a
farm in a large stone house, and had an abundance of everything in the way of
good things to eat. Lots of stock, two fine carriages, etc. While we were there
sister Annie had scarlet fever, but Mother cured her with water as she always
did any of us when we were sick.
When
our visit was out there, another farmer’s family invited us to stay with them
while Father made arrangements for us to go to housekeeping. At this place, Mr.
Potter’s, we children had a grand time. There were two girls near my age, Ann
and Belle, and we spent most of the time roaming over the farm or in the woods,
or playing in the large barn. School commenced before we left and I went with
the girls a few days. There were two young gentlemen in the family, one of them
was very deaf. The house was a large red brick structure. They also owned two
carriages so we could all go to church at once if we wished.
Finally
we went to housekeeping in Hamilton, Butler County, Ohio. The town was built on
two sides of a river like Rockford. One side was called Rossville, we lived in
Rossville. A few years later that name was given up and it was all called
Hamilton. A large covered bridge spanned the river and I had to cross it every
day to school. There was a Young Ladies’ Academy on the other side which I
attended. I liked the teacher, he was a white-haired old man, and very kind if
we tried to learn, and very sarcastic if we did not. We lived in a very
comfortable cottage with a hall and three rooms below and two rooms above.
Two
blocks away lived a family named Longfellow. I visited there quite often, and
liked Jane Longfellow very much, though she was several years older than I. She
had a brother Jim that I did not see much of. I met him years afterward in
Illinois, after we were both married. I took lessons in crayon drawing that
summer to please Mother, but it did not amount to anything.
Mother’s
health gave way and she went to a water cure establishment near Cincinnati. She
was there only two weeks when the building took fire and burnt down. Then she
came home not much benefited. None of us were satisfied; we did not like the
place and did not care for the people who were strangers to us. I think Father
was a homesick as the rest, but he did not say so. We settled in March, and by
September were wild to go back to Indiana or Illinois, we did not care which.
So we packed up and started.
We
went to Cincinnati on the cars and took a steam boat for Mount Vernon. The boat
stayed three days at the wharf after we went on, loading for New Orleans, it
was tiresome, but we were all so glad to get started for our old stamping
ground that we did not complain. At last we arrived in Mount Vernon, and went
to Mr. Barter’s where we were cordially received. We had left a large black dog
there when we left in the spring, and he was so delighted to see us, he nearly
went wild.
Father
owned a small piece of land adjoining Grandpa’s with a house on it, we decided
to go there for a year. We hired a hack to take us to Cynthiana (Indiana) where
an Association was to be held and spent the week there. Oh how happy I was,
there were many of our friends there, young and old. It seemed so good to be
among people we knew and not strangers, as we were in Ohio. After the
Association was over, two of the Baptist brethren took us in to Grandpa’s, and
we went to housekeeping in our new home.
What
a lonesome looking place it was, and the house was the tiniest little two
roomed affair ever lived in. But in my life I never spent as happy hours as
there. There was no other house in sight. There was no cleared land on the
place except a little garden spot. A little cowshed and corn crib were all the
out buildings there were, no cellar, no modern improvements. The well stood in
the front yard and looked like the well in the picture of the “Old Oaken Bucket.”
There was a grass grown road in front of the house which nobody travelled. If
it led anywhere I never heard of it. Whenever anyone came to our house they
went back the same way they came, which was the road that passed by Grandpa’s,
leading to Russellville, three miles away on the Wabash River. In front and on
two sides of the house was a dense wood of oak, hickory, and a few persimmon
trees, wild grape vines abounded. Our only view was from one end of the house
which looked over part of Grandpa’s farm.
His
house was out of sight quarter mile away. Quarter of a mile farther on lived
Uncle William Norton, and still farther on across the creek lived two old great
aunts of mine, in houses quite near each other. One was a widow (Sarah Norton
Tobey) and her children were all married, the other (Lydia Norton Grimes) was
living with her third husband, she had no children of her own, but had an
adopted daughter and a step daughter, whom I was quite intimate with. Uncle
William had married when quite young a lady he almost adored, but she only
lived a year, she and her baby boy dying at the same time, and leaving her
husband nearly paralyzed with grief. He lived a widower ten years, then married
a young widow with one little girl.
Soon
after we got settled Father cut a bad gash in his foot which kept him in the
house for several weeks. During the winter we children went to school to a
young married man, named Highsmith. He taught the three R’s, reading, ‘riting
and ‘rithmetic, and spelling. He asked me to study grammar, as I had studied it
for three years he thought I could teach him, so I did. On Friday afternoons we
would spell each other down. I enjoyed the term very much.
1854.
This
summer Father took a long trip east. He visited Washington, spent some time in
Virginia and New York states. In all he was gone three months. Mother and we
four children stayed alone. Mother was courageous, and we never thought of
being afraid. We spent much of the time in the deep woods which nearly
surrounded the house. The little children went to school about a mile from
home. We kept no stock except one cow, and some chickens, and we had such a
tiny house our work was light. There was a terrible drought that summer all
through southern Illinois, scarcely any rain fell for three months. If we had
tried to raise anything we would have failed. Father said it was a good thing
he took his trip that summer.
After
he returned he visited some churches in Odes County, Illinois, and they urged
him very strongly to come and preach for them. We had been living in Crawford
County a year, and he was anxious to move, so we went to my Uncle Nathaniel
Parker’s in Charleston, Coles County, where we made a short visit, and then
went to housekeeping in town. Here was another complete change from the deep
woods to a flourishing town. We rented a cottage, found some very pleasant
neighbors, and were very well contented, at least we children were. The church
Father was pastor of was just across the street from our house, so it was handy
to say the least.
Father
had a cousin who lived in town; he was a prominent lawyer and had been a member
of Congress from that District for two or three terms. His wife was Senator
Colquitt’s daughter [Elizabeth H. Colquitt, 1836-1895], and sister to Alfred
Colquitt who several years later was Governor of Georgia. Cousin’s name was O.
B. [Orlando Bell] Ficklin. He had three little boys [Augustus, Walter, and
Alfred], and he and Father asked me to teach the two families of children that
winter, and I did. Our school was held in a small room in Mr. Ficklin’s house. His
boys and my two brothers and little sister comprised the school. They learned
fast and gave me little trouble. In the spring Father and Cousin presented me
with a silk dress for my services, which I was very proud of. Mrs. Ficklin was
a great reader, and always bought the new novels as soon as they came out; she
insisted on loaning her books to me, and I lived in a seventh heaven amongst
the books. I suppose I read more than I ought, but life was worth living then. Although
I was young, I attended several parties during the winter. Mrs. Ficklin gave
one and invited me. She was always very kind to me.
My
Uncle Parker lived nearly a mile from town in a large red brick house. I liked
to go out there, as there were several children, and we had grand times. The
children were not my cousins, as Aunt Mirinda, my Mother’s sister, was Mr.
Parker’s second wife, and stepmother to the children [Lucy Mirinda Norton
Dillworth had married Nathaniel Parker on May 20, 1852]. They had a large
orchard of very fine apples and Uncle Parker gave Father all we could use. The
two eldest boys were grown up and rather wild, and I did not like them very
well, but there was always good times there. Jane Parker was about my age, we
liked each other, but she had the advantage of me, as her father was wealthy
and mine was poor. She had many more and richer dresses than I, and was the
happy possessor of a diamond ring which I admired exceedingly.
There
was a family named Jones who lived six miles from town, members of Father’s
church, where I loved to go dearly. Mrs. Jones would have me come out and stay
a week as often as Mother would spare me. While we lived at that place there
was a man hung by a mob near our house. We lived on a hill and at the bottom of
the hill he was hung on an oak tree. He had killed his father-in-law and was
tried and found guilty, and sentenced to be hung, but got a few weeks reprieve
from the Governor, which so exasperated the people that they took him out of
jail and hung him. We were all very much horrified about it, and could hardly
sleep a wink that night. There was much excitement in town and scarcely
anything else talked about for several days.
During
the summer and fall we had visitors from Crawford County; Mother’s two aunts
came, and Grandfather spent some time with us and Aunt Mirinda. Also, Father’s
brother’s widow, Mrs. Ann Piper from South Bend, Indiana, spent a few days with
us. I never saw her but that one time, her husband had been dead some years,
his name was Edward Piper.
1855.
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| Two-horse carriage |
I
don’t remember anything of importance that happened the first few months of
this year. We had a great deal of company and went a great deal. When Father
attended his two-day meetings in the country we often went with him, all six of
us in the two-horse carriage, and we would spend Saturday night with some good
Baptist family and come home Sunday evening.
The
summer and fall of this year was very sickly indeed. In August cholera broke
out in town, and in a panic Father loaded us all into the carriage, sent a
driver with us and started us to Grandfather’s 80 miles away. We stayed there
several weeks, and when the cholera scare was over, he sent for us. When we
returned home there was sickness in nearly every family in town—chills and
fever, or some kind of fever. Our family all fell sick and I came near dying. Father
thought I was dying one night, and I have often thought how easy it would have
been for me to go then, and I hope when my time comes I will be as reconciled
to death as I was that night. But we all recovered when frost came. Uncle
Parker’s family was sick and he died. His daughter and son-in-law came back
from Texas, and Aunt Mirinda, not caring to live with her stepchildren, came
and spent the winter with us. She was sick most of the winter.
Towards
spring we had a visitor from Virginia, a gentleman who wanted to buy Father’s
little farm near Grandpa’s. He had never seen the land, so Father took him in
the carriage, and Aunt Mirinda and I went along to visit Grandpa. Fancy
starting for an 80-mile drive in the dead of winter! But we were well wrapped
and enjoyed the trip very, very much. We were two days on the road, stayed two
days at Grandpa’s, and were two days coming home, and were back home inside of
a week. The last day before we reached home was very cold, and it was not so
funny. Uncle Louis Norton had moved to the town of Robinson and Uncle William’s
family was keeping house for Grandpa. I went to two or three parties that
winter and had a good time as I usually had.
[i] Col. Alfred Lawrence Shotwell
was born in Kentucky in 1809. He married Gabriella Breckenridge and had the
following children: Stephen (1830), William (1835), unnamed daughter (1838) who
married Robert Cannon, Alfred Annie (1843). Annie is the woman whose husband
disappeared; there is an article about it that appeared in the Rogersville Herald (transcribed below).
The next younger child was Frances T (1849) who died at age 19: “On the day
preceding her death, she had been out to invite some lady friends to a social
party to be given next day at her father’s house, and having walked much in the
city that evening, on going to bed she inhaled chloroform to quiet her nerves,
and was found dead in bed the next morning.” A.L. Shotwell’s youngest was John
T (1853), who seems to have had a normal life (unusual in this family).
“GABE
TATE’S ROMANCE: Married, Divorced, Given Up for Dead, and Again Married to the
Same Woman. (From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat.)
“The
death of Gabe Tate at Henderson, Ky., brings to mind the romantic career of his
life. Tate was born and raised in this country. His father was one of the
prosperous planters of ante bellum days. The large tract of land he owned was
in Walnut Bottom, in the most productive part of this section. He had a large
number of slaves and, better still, a large bank account. Gabe had grown in an
atmosphere of luxury until luxuries were common. He had been accustomed to
having his own way and to have every want supplied. When his father died the
estate was divided between him and his sister, Mrs. Dr. J. A. Harding, who had
gone to the home of her husband in Jefferson county, now a part of Louisville,
Ky. There he met Miss Annie Shotwell, the daughter of Col. A.L. Shotwell, a man
who was rich in a dozen different ways. His steam interest was only second to
his landed estate, and his commission merchants business but barely
outstripping his mining rights. The vast coal fields of Union county, now owned
by Brown & Jones, the Pittsburgh coal kings, were his individually. At that
time, in 1862, there were only two coal mines operated on the Ohio River below
Pittsburgh, Pa., the one at Cannelton, Ind., and the Shotwell mines in Union
county. So exhaustless is the supply of coal and so superior the quality that a
railroad has just been completed to the mines from this city. Fabulous fortunes
have been made from the fleets of coal sent South from these mines. It is seen
by this what Oriental grandeur was in the reach of Gabe Tate and Miss Shotwell,
with their fortunes, when united in marriage at the residence of Col. Shotwell,
in Louisville. After marriage Mr. and Mrs. Tate went to the Shotwell mines, and
all went well. Two or more children blessed their union. [One day] Mr. Tate
left his home, and to this day the public do not know the cause. Surmises were
plentiful, but no knowledge of the cause was ever had. It was known that his
estate was gone, but that was of small importance for his wife was rich.
“Some time after Mr. Tate left
home Mrs. Tate procured a divorce, and shortly afterwards married Sam
Churchill, a prosperous planter, who had lived near the mines, and with whom
she was acquainted during her married life at the mines. In the meantime Andrew
Tate, an old bachelor uncle, had died and left his vast estate to Gabe and his
sister. Hugh Tate, another bachelor uncle, soon died, and added his fortune to
that of his brother Andrew for the benefit of his nephew and niece. Not long
after that Miss Nancy Tate died, and left her increased fortune from her own
right and undivided interests in the estates of her two brothers, Andrew and
Hugh, to Gabe Tate and his sister. These changes covered a period of nearly ten
years. Notwithstanding the fact that considerable advertising had been done,
nothing could be heard of Gabe Tate, and he was suspected to be dead. At last
he was heard from at Cairo, Ill., and found. Arriving home, he found himself a
rich man again. He wrote to his wife to send the children to him at Evansville,
Ind., as he wanted to see them. She met him there with the children. Shortly
afterwards a divorce was procured from Sam Churchill, the second husband, and
speedily following that divorce was the marriage of Gabe Tate to the same woman
who had procured a divorce from him years before.”
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More posts about Mirinda Piper:
One-Room Schools, a Romance, an Earthquake
Mirinda and Slavery
The Further Adventures of Mirinda Piper (part 1)
Mirinda Piper's Adventures as a Young Lady of the 1850s
Memoirs of Mirinda Piper Andrews: Married Life 1858 - 1872
We
lived in Charlestown 18 months; March 1st we broke up housekeeping and started
to move back to Posey County, Indiana. The furniture was shipped by railroad
and river, and we went in the carriage by way of Grandpa’s as usual. Aunt
Mirinda stayed at Uncle William’s; we stopped a few days and pushed on to our
journey’s end. 
I taught a little school that summer but
did not like school teaching and was determined not to follow the business. As
Mother’s health was so poor I was always needed at home, and neither of my
parents wished me to teach. I never taught another school. There were a number
of young people in the neighborhood, and most of them I had known before, so in
a little while I had all the company I wanted. That summer passed quickly and
pleasantly. I had some beaux, but Father discouraged their visits, and as he
was a minister they were rather shy of him.
