A History Of Bee County Texas

A History Of Bee County

So far as here is any record, there were no permanent white settlers in this part of the country until 1834, when a boat from Ireland arrived "after having stopped at New York" with 16 or 18 families of settlers.

Two of these were the Hefferman families. (This name originally was spelled "Heffernan") The Burke family also was included. The boat on which this perilous voyage was made had been three months crossing the Atlantic ocean and making its way through the Gulf of Mexico to the landing place on Copano Bay.

During the voyage cholera broke out and more than decimated the passengers. One of the men who died was the husband of Mrs. Ann Burke. He was buried at sea.

These families settled at San Patricio and near Refugio, as well as in the territory now known as Bee county.

The James Hefferman family settled on 4,605 acres of land located on the east bank of the Paesta creek on the site on which the city of Beeville later was built. His brother, John Hefferman, and family located his headright at San Patricio.

The families lived a more or less precarious existence for the next five or six years. in constant dread of Indians and Mexicans. They practiced—of necessity—the "live-at-home" precept, growing everything with the exception possibly of sugar and coffee.

These supplies, together with such luxuries as furniture, etc., were brought from the boat landing at old St. Mary's by ox teams.

In 1836 the settlers became involved in the war with Mexico, and their troubles increased.

We are indebted to Mary Hefferman, daughter of John Hefferman, who located at San Patricio, for the account of the massacre by the Indians and Mexicans, on the ground where Beeville now stands. This is told in her own words:

"My uncle, James Hefferman, still lived on the Paesta when the war broke out. My father's family lived at San Patricio. My father and a cousin, John Ryan, went to James Hefferman to assist him in laying by his crop, so they all could join General Fannin's command at Goliad.

"The day before they finished plowing they were attacked by Mexicans and Indians in the field while at work and all were killed. The Indians then went to the house and killed the family of James Hefferman, which consisted of his wife and five children.

"The first intimation of the sad fate that had befallen these early settlers was received by relatives and friends at San Patricio when they found at their cowpen one morning the cows of James Hefferman, which he had taken from there to his home on the Paesta. This aroused the suspicion of the family, who at once sent their boys to find out what the trouble was.

"On coming to the site of the settlement and seeing no one, they returned to San Patricio and reported no one at home. Then a party of men went to investigate. They found the men dead in the field. They had been dead several days. The body of the eldest son of James Hefferman was lying between the field and the house, while the bodies of Mrs. Hefferman and the four younger children were found at the house.

"The remains were collected and placed in one large box and were buried near the scene of the murder, although the exact spot cannot be located.

"The calves "of the cows which returned to San Patricio were dead in the pens, the only living thing on the place being a little dog.

"The field where the men were killed was located on the spot now occupied by the courthouse, while the house and pens were west of that location, about where the old Whitehead home formerly stood. The site is now occupied by the Mexican school."

These colonists left their homes in Tipperary county, Ireland, under contract with the Mexican government, and were required to come equipped with supplies enough, including arms and ammunition, to last them two years. The Mexican government agreed to furnish the head of each family with ten milch cows, one cart and a yoke of oxen, and a garrison of soldiers to guard and protect the colonists against incursions of hostile Indians. The government did send a lot of peon soldiers and a few makeshifts called carts. The colonists had to use a paste made of cactus root for axle grease to keep the axles of the rickety and screeching old carts from igniting and being consumed by fire. The cowardly soldiers were a nuisance. They lived upon the provisions of the colonists and were afraid to show their heads outside of the house when danger from Indian raids seemed imminent.

Copano Bay was the landing place of these immigrants in the summer of 1834. The vessel on which they made the voyage was too large to approach the shore nearer than three miles, making it necessary to transfer the cargo of immigrants and their two years' provisions to the shore on lighters. Imagine the scene presented in that wild and lonely country, when the vessel had finished discharging its miscellaneous cargo of human and material freight. Bedding, clothing, foodstuffs, cooking utensils, arms and ammunition, axes, spades, farming and various other implements and machinery were thrown in confused piles upon the beach.

Camp was pitched about one mile back from the water's edge on a treeless prairie. The weather was intensely hot, and the campers had to stretch quilts and blankets for awnings to protect the women and children from the scorching rays of the vertical summer's sun.

It was in the midst of all this confusion and these trials and discomforts, that Patrick Burke, now deceased, who became a prominent stockman of Bee county, first saw the light of day. But let him tell the story as he learned it from his mother, Annie Burke, and other members of the colony. In effect he is quoted as follows:

"My birth occurred about one hour after my mother set foot on Texas soil, and before she had gone one mile from the shore, where she and the other colonists were landed. Her breast rose and she was unable to nurse me. This section of the country was uninhabited, and it was out of the question to obtain milk, or nourishment suitable for an infant. But Providence, in His kindness and mysterious way, provided the relief. At this juncture an Indian squaw, who had left her babe with her tribe, entered the camp of the colonists, and her heart no doubt, being touched by my cries, came to my mother's bed, took me and nursed me. Thus as God sent the ravens to feed Elijah at the brook Cherith, so did he send this uncouth and uncivilized Indian squaw to nurse and furnish me, a starving infant, with nourishment in the wilderness of Texas. She carried me to her tribe and cared for me until my sick and bereaved mother was able to take care of me. Each day she brought me back for my mother to see me. Her manner of handling me was in striking contrast with that of my own mother; she would pitch and sling me about like I was a pup or a bundle of dry goods.

"During all the time the colonists remained in this camp this woman was the only Indian who came about us, or even came in sight of any one of the colonists. If others of the tribe ever came near our camp they kept themselves perfectly secreted."

From this camp the colonists went and settled at and around San Patricio. They remained loyal to the Mexican government until 1836, notwithstanding the bad faith which characterized its dealings with them. When the revolution of 1836 developed, these hardy and noble pioneers from oppressed Ireland, breathing the true spirit of freedom, went east and joined the other colonists in the fight for liberty and political independence. Continuing the story of the trials and struggles of this colony, and in giving an outline of his own eventful life, Mr. Burke says in substance:

"Before annexation my mother married Pal Carroll, and they went to New Orleans but returned to San Patricio after the battle of San Jacinto. During the time intervening between this battle and annexation this part of Texas was subject to both Mexican and Indian raids, and we returned to a country without supplies. Our homes had been destroyed, and hard times stared us in the face. We soon constructed log houses, made picket fashion with dirt floors and I hatched roofs, clapboards being used to stop the cracks between the pickets. Our pioneer architecture was simple and inexpensive and did not require the out-lay of large sums of money for plans, specifications, material and construction, but doubtless as much peace, contentment and real happiness was found dwelling in our quaint old homes as we now find in the palatial homes in our towns and cities. Our table fare, bread and meat, was also simple, but out digestive organs were always good, and dyspepsia never interfered with the keen relish and fine appetites we always carried to the table with us. We drank water from the creeks, ponds, barrels and cow tracks, enjoyed good health and never heard of microbes, germ theories and diseases of modern times.

Frequent Indian Raids

"After we returned to our colonial homes Indian raids were still frequent. They invariably came on the full of every moon during the spring, summer and autumn months, and oxen coming home with arrows shot in their bodies often admonished us that Indians were lurking in the neighborhood, and ready to surprise us by swooping down upon us. They frequently swept the country of saddle ponies, not leaving mounts enough in the community on which the men could pursue them. In making their escape when they were pursued they always had the advantage of their pursuers. They generally had already stolen the best horses and were returning with a large herd when discovered and could change mounts whenever the horses they were riding became jaded, while our men usually had to take for mounts such animals as the Indians left behind or had failed to get.

"Whenever the Indians succeeded in crossing the Nueces river, about ten miles above Oakville, they were safe from further pursuit. In order to prevent the Indians from stealing our horses, the settlers usually made a thick, high brush fence around their back door, without an entrance except through the house. About the full of the moon, or whenever an Indian raid was anticipated, the horses, oxen and milk cows were kept in this inclosure.'

"One night the Indians stole Pat Corrigan's horse, which was tied to his gallery post. His wife heard them and told him the Indians were getting his horse. He picked up his gun, ran into the yard and snapped his old pistol at them three times. He just happened to see three Indians with their drawn bows hid in the grass in time for him to make a safe retreat into his house.

"When a boy I went under the care of Major John Woods, with others in pursuit of the Indians. A man named Mandola, who had been captured when a boy, and reared to manhood by the Indians was our guide. He was trained in all of their arts and cunning, and could even trail them by scent. It was hard sometimes for our men to distinguish between an Indian and a mustang trail, but Mandola was never at a loss to tell one from the other. We traveled that night until 12 o'clock and then slept till daylight. Next morning when we awoke, Mandola arose and sniffed the balmy atmosphere a time or two, he said lie smelt the fumes of cooking meat, and that our foes were not far away. We did not go further than five miles before we came upon and surprised our enemies while they were enjoying their breakfast of horse meat cooked on coals, immediately a quick and spirited fight ensued. Major Woods kept me with him, the other men separating and taking advantageous positions in the scattering timber. One savage and ferocious old squaw attacked the major and me. We tried as long as possible to avoid the necessity of shooting her, but she could handle her bow and arrows as well and as accurately as a trained warrior, and was hurling the missiles of death at us so rapidly that we were compelled to exchange shots with her in order to save our lives. Major Woods received an arrow wound in the fleshy part of the thigh. This was the last Indian raid and the last fight of this unfortunate squaw-warrior. Our force numbered fourteen. I do not know how many Indians there were, but when the battle had ended we were the victors, with seven dead Indians stretched upon the field. A few old sore-back ponies and horses and the bows and arrows of the slain Indians were the spoils of our victory.

Once I went with my stepfather to Long Lake, carrying a jug with which to bring back some fresh drinking water. We were in no particular hurry, and while walking leisurely about the lake we discovered the Indians in some timber a short distance above us, cooking meat. While they did not seem to see us, we were suddenly inspired with St. Paul's injunction to lay aside every weight and run with swiftness the race set before us, so casting our jug aside, we pulled off the prettiest race you ever saw, going hack into town, San Patricio, with the old man possibly leading me a neck or two. The sulking 'redskins,' who always seemed to need good horses in their business, made a call that night at the premises of several of the citizens, who found themselves without mounts and work animals next morning.

"In those days the country was full of deer, panthers and other kinds of game and wild animals. On one occasion while I was a boy I went with Major Woods, Hill Clark and Martin OTool (the last named being a San Jacinto and Mexican war veteran) to cut a road through the bottom. While we were at work the dogs treed a large panther which we killed with an ax.

There were also many wild mustang horses, and it was a sight to see them running when the settlers were trying to catch them. If we could manage to catch one of these old horses, we would tie an imitation man upon him and let him loose. Of course he would make for the herd, which would try to outrun him. This would start every mustang for miles around to running and the noise from these running horses, which sometimes numbered thousands, often sounded like the terrific roar of a passing cyclone. After they had run themselves down we could guide them into the pens with long wings which we had built for capturing them. It required strength and skill to rope and throw one of these old snorting, jumping, fighting horses. It looked like some of them could squeal, paw, kick and jump at the same lime, and they could never be conquered until they were roped, thrown and tied down. We generally roached their manes and tails and used the hair for making ropes.

"After annexation the United States sent troops to protect us against Indian raids, aim though only a boy I drove an ox wagon three years carrying supplies for the troops from Corpus Christi to Fort Merrill. I had to support my mother and my three little half brothers and two little half sisters, as well as my stepmother, who was nearly blind and could not work, he lost his eye when hit by a cork which flew from a bottle of English port while he was opening it.

"I made $30 per month, and that was considered good wages for a boy in those times. When I commenced on this job I was scarcely large enough to put the yoke on the oxen. I wore hickory shirts and red shoes, and it usually took me eight days to make the round trip. Sometimes an axle would break and then I was two weeks nuking the round trip. There were only two blacksmiths accessible, one being at each end of the route. I made these trips alone, sleeping at night by the side of my wagon. Finally John Ross bought me a good wagon at a government sale, paying $50 for it. I worked it out."

Pat Burke died in August, 1912, at the age of 78 years.

Stockman's Paradise

In those days this country was a wilderness, an empire of prairie land, the home of wild game, the hunting ground of Indians, a virgin wealth of pasture land, and a stockman's paradise. Will game was in abundance, but the pioneer killed only what he needed, leaving the rest to roam at will.

Strange as it may seem, when a deer or beef was killed for food it was hung up in the shade of a tree, a crust forming over the meat which preserved it. There were no insects to bother the meat, so it hung until all was used.

Deer roamed the prairies in great numbers, often 100 or more being in a herd. Their backs and horns could be seen above the tall grass. Sometimes in the late sixties or early seventies a disease called "black tongue" broke out. The tongues of the' deer swelled out of their mouths, causing hundreds to die.

Wild turkeys were without number and added greatly to the food supply of the rancher and farmer well up into the 80's. Stock-raising began in what is now Ike county in about 1840, some men driving their cattle here from around Austin and Gonzales. Mr. Dunlap brought between 600 and 700 head and settled in the bend of the Aransas creek, near a spring and deep pool of water, the stream running from there on down to the bay continuously. He also built a rock house, the walls of which are standing intact today. In later years Mr. Dunlap sold his cattle and the rock house to Joe Wilson. Mr. Wilson sold the house to Capt. D. A. T. Walton, who was living there when he was first elected sheriff of Bee county in 1875.

Mr. Dunlap's daughter, Miss Libbie, taught the first school for the pioneer children in a picket house a mile or two farther down the creek from her home. Little Sallie Wilson, who later became Mrs. Roswell Gillett and mother of Mrs. Tom Lyne, was one of her pupils. It was about the time she was going to this school that Sallie was visiting one day in the Page home six or seven miles farther down the Aransas creek where she saw three camels, the last of the herd brought to Texas in 1856 to act as beasts of burden. They were found unprofitable and were turned out to roam the prairies. The three camels came to the house. They looked very strange to her. The sight of them frightened the tiny girl of seven years.

During the winter of 1861-62 a troop of cavalry was stationed at Fort Camp Verde in Kerr county with a pack-train of about forty camels. These camels were used by the soldiers as pack animals only, in a few instances officers' wives rode them to Camp Ivey, several miles from the Fort. The camp was named for the Reverend Ivey, a Methodist minister, who held religious meetings there. Horses could smell camels a long distance away and often showed signs of alarm at the approach of these lumbering, humpback animals. When several of these camels came one Sunday to Camp Ivey, bringing officers wives, six on a camel, the horses already hitched around the arbor became so frightened and unruly that the minister had to suspend his preaching until the women had dismounted and the horses had been calmed.

Lived By Golden Rule

The Stockman kept his cattle rangled around on the land on which he had settled as best he could, employing line-riding to keep them all together and away from other people's cattle. It was possible to do this as there was no timber or brush to obstruct the view and plenty of fine grass near the watering place.

The pioneer men and women tried to live by the Golden Rule, "do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Their word was their bond, or note. If they borrowed money from a neighbor the transaction was just a verbal contract. There were no legal papers drawn up requiring the signature of friends. The obligation simply was kept in mind, and in most every instance the men were true to their word and honor.

Money was carried in money sacks. When the traveler camped out at nights, he threw the sack of money over a limb, or tree, or put it on the ground and used it for a pillow. If he stopped at a house or an inn for the night he left the sack of money on the porch until morning, with no thought of it being molested.

The first houses were made of straight poles stood side by side, the cracks being filled with grass or moss. The dirt floor was covered with white sand from the creek beds and the roof was made old split boards cut from big trees. The chimney was built of sticks and moss plastered inside to make them fire-proof and outside to protect them from the weather. This plaster was made of clay, with moss which had been boiled to make it black and durable, for the filling or foundation.

Later the houses were made log-cabin style, the logs being split so they would fit at the corners of the room or house. Then the men learned to make floors of boards split straight with the grain of the wood, using a sharp ax and dressing I he top side down until the floor was smooth. The door was a half-door, although sometimes it was built to the top of the structure.

The corn crib and smokehouse were made of the same materials, and a rail fence was built around the home. If the home was away from a running stream a well was dug, a square box being built over it as a protection for man and beast. A pulley with two oaken buckets hung in the well. If the house was near a running stream, water was obtained from the stream. During dry spells sometimes the stream would stop flowing, but a shallow hole could be dug where the rocks were in the creeks and cool spring water obtained.

Later when conditions became better, with the enemy driven back, people began to build houses of rock dug from the ground on the rocky hills. These rocks were moist, and easy to cut when taken from the earth. They were sawed into squares and left in the sun to dry and harden before being built into a house.   Some of these houses arc standing intact today—strong evidence of some good brick and stone masons among the pioneers.

The first houses made of lumber were erected around 1845. The material was brought here by ox teams from St. Mary's.

John Corrigan, one of the colonists who came in 1830, father of the late Jerry Corrigan, settled on the Aransas river below the "V" where the Paesta and Aransas come together. The family had exciting times with the enemy and the wild life of this new country. On one occasion the wife was alone when the Indians came. The Indians killed the faithful dog and took Mrs. Corrigan's Kiddle pony, which was tied to the gate post near the door of the home.

At another time Jerome Murphy was on his way from Victoria to San Patricio and stopped on the creek near the Corrigan home for dinner. After preparing his meal and sitting down to eat, he saw the Indians coming. He ran to the house a short distance away. The enemy took his coffee, bacon and cornbread, and also his horse and saddle.

Mrs. Corrigan told Mr. Murphy to get her horse and go notify her husband, who was in the woods splitting rails, but Mr. Murphy would not go. She told him she would go, and tying a red handkerchief around her head and mounting her pony, she rode into the woods. The Indians watched her ride away. When she returned with her husband some rangers were there and engaged in a running fight with the Indians to the Mulis hills.

The Corrigan family was compelled to leave their home several times for safety. At one time before leaving they decided to hide their furniture and household belongings by digging a deep hole in the ground and burying them, feeling that if the enemy came they would not find the articles. "But they came and destroyed," digging up the furniture and breaking the articles into pieces. Only one piece—a table—escaped destruction, and it is an heirloom in the family today.   It is said pieces of dishes can be found on the ground there today.

County Named For Native Of South Carolina

Bee County was named for Bernard E. Bee, who was born in 1787 in Charleston, S. C. Bee studied law and became prominent in the nullification troubles of South Carolina. In 1836 he came to Texas and joined the army. He was elected as one of three commissioners to accompany Santa Anna to Washington City in order that he might renew in the presence of General Jackson the promises he (Santa Anna) had made to the Republic of Texas in regard to independence and other matters.

The promises were renewed in General Jackson's presence, but they were never fulfilled. When the commissioners reached New Orleans, Santa Anna, being in want of funds, drew his draft upon his bank in Vera Cruz for $2,000, and with the endorsement of Colonel Bee he obtained the money. Upon Ids return to Vera Cruz Santa Anna repudiated the draft on the grounds that he was a prisoner under duress when the draft was made. Colonel Bee made good the draft, and after waiting for some time was reimbursed by the Republic of Texas.

Colonel Bee was secretary of war under President Houston and secretary of state under President Lamar. Later he was minister to the United Slates from the Republic of Texas. He was subsequently commissioned as minister to Mexico. When his credentials were sent to Mexico Santa Anna politely returned them, with the statement that he would be delighted to receive Colonel Bee as his friend, but never as the official representative of the rebellious province of Texas.

Colonel Bee was opposed to annexation and after that act was consummated he returned to South Carolina, where he died in 1853.

While General Hamilton P. Bee was speaker of the House of Representatives of Texas the county of Bee was named in honor of his father. To another son, Col. Bernard E. Bee, Jr., a graduate of West Point who was killed at the first battle of Manassas, the world is indebted for the prefix "Stonewall" to the name of General T. J. Jackson.

County Organized

Bee County was organized in 1858 and contains 550,000 acres of land. It was carved from Goliad, Refugio, and San Patricio counties.   Most of the acreage, however, was taken from San Patricio county.

The first officers were: J. A. Martin, sheriff; W. B. Thompson, chief justice (or judge); Henderson Williams, county clerk; James Drewry, assessor (Mr. Drewry filled the office nine months, at which time J. B. Madray was elected to the office); S. B. Meriman, district clerk; John Phelps, Louis Campbell, Henry Clare, and David Craven, commissioners.

The first court was held under a tree on the Medio creek on February 10, 1858, seven miles east of the present town of Beeville, where the first townsite was located. It was called Marysville, in honor of the murdered Mary Hefferman. Jack Phelps, father of the late Nick Phelps, donated the land for the location. A courthouse was built of pickets with dirt floor. The furniture consisted of one table and two benches.

When time came to hold court, each man put his blanket in a roll on the back of his saddle, a change of clothes in the saddle pockets and eats in a moral on the horn of the saddle. He was off to be gone until court was over—and it took every man in the county to hold it.

There was some dissatisfaction over the location of the county seat. Some wanted to move it farther west, while others wanted it to remain where it was. After considerable debating they decided to run a line north and south, then east and west, to find the exact center of the county, drive a stake down and build the courthouse there. This location was on the hill about one and one-half miles northeast of where the present courthouse is now standing.

Mrs. Ann Burke offered to give 200 acres of land to be used for the townsite. After considering the matter the commissioners decided to accept the offer, as it would save buying the land and at the same time the town would be only a short distance from the center of the county. So in 1860 the town was moved from the Medio to its present site on the Paesta. The name also was changed because an older town in the state had priority on the name of Marysville.

There was still some opposition to moving the county seat, and, in order to get the books with the first records in time for the first district court, which was held November 15, 1858, an officer was sent out to bring them in.

The first court held in Beeville was in a one-room house where the Southern Pacific depot now stands. This house also was used for church services, as a schoolhouse, and as a theater when shows came to town. Most of the pupils came from outlying farms and ranches, as the population of the town was so small. J. W. Flournoy later taught school in this building.

The first courthouse in Beeville was built in 1861 by J. H. Toomey at a cost of $473. It was located across the street west from the present courthouse, on the site now occupied by the Frels filling station. It was a one-room building, made of lumber. A well was dug near the building and furnished water for the public watering troughs for teams.

The court ordered that a subscription be taken for the building of this house. It also issued scrip for the amount subscribed by each man, dollar for dollar. The next winter a chimney was built by C. B. Hill and the fireplace was made by L. Clark. Both men took town lots as compensation for their labor.

The Masonic fraternity was allowed to erect a second story over the courthouse. Ewing Wilson and G. W. McClanahan had the contract.

Viggo Kohler was awarded the contract to erect the next courthouse built in Beeville. Bids were called for. C. F. Rudolph bid $4,400, John Impson bid $3,865, and Mr. Kohler $3,425. The contract was let September 20, 1878. The building was completed and received May 12, 1879. Col. F. J. Malone and F. O. Conner were bondsmen.

Last Indian Fight

About 1862 the last Indian fight to take place in this vicinity was won by die settlers near the Pettus' ranch home. It was about this time that Sam Williams, eldest son of Henderson Williams, who lived in the Dark Corner, went out one day to hunt hogs—with a sack of corn tied to his saddle—and came upon a bunch of Indians.   He saw them in time to run his horse across the prairie to a mot of small trees. He jumped off, wrapped the bridle reins around a bush and ran into the thicket, then out on the other side before the Indians reached the mot. Mr. Williams crawled through the tall grass until he came to the creek. He swam the stream and made his way home by night-fall.

The Indians wanted his horse, but their war-like yells frightened the animal and he jerked the reins off the bush and ran away, reaching home some time during the night. Sam thought his horse must have run many miles, as the corn in the sack was all shelled off the cob.

Next day a band of armed men went to the scene and found the Indians had run their horses around and around the mot until they had beat out the grass and made a road, thinking the boy was inside and would run out, and then they would capture or kill him.

As there were no railroads in this part of the state, freighting was done by wagon. There were two wagon roads crossing Bee county from Mexico City to Austin and other trading posts. Rich Mexican merchants sent their caravans of 50 or more wagons over these roads with coffee and other merchandise for sale and trade. These wagons were drawn by four, six and eight white mules to a wagon. Each mule wore fine harness with many tiny bells, the tinkle of which could be heard along the way.

The drivers carried mesquite beans as food for the mules. From these seed a growth soon sprang up which could be seen for miles over the prairie as the outline of the roads, and in course of time the mesquite has spread over the entire country that once was prairie, except for the trees on the banks of the streams.

There was no prickly pear in Bee county then, while today it is choking out the grass on black mesquite land and is considered a nuisance, except during dry winters, when it becomes valuable as food for cattle.

Freighting was one of the main means of livelihood for men who did not own cattle. Most of the supplies for Bee county were brought from St. Mary's. Austin also was a trading center.

The teamsters used covered wagons made of heavy timbers. Sometimes for safety in rainy weather when hauling salt and flour, cow hides were drawn over the sheet on top of the bows. A hide was used sometimes for a chuck box under the wagon, the four corners being tied securely to the vehicle. It was a "carry-all" and a safe place to carry the teamster's necessities.

Jay Hawks In Bee County

In the early days, before Bee county was organized, my grandfather, Chris Harwell, who lived at LaGrange, Texas, was a freighter between Austin and Brownsville. Late one afternoon some jay-hawkers overtook him somewhere in what is now Bee county and rode along with him until time to camp for the night. He knew, of course, they would take what he had, and possibly his scalp, but he stopped his team, built the camp fire, made coffee and prepared his meager meal. Then he asked the men to eat with him, which they did. They told him they would not harm him or take his goods because he had been kind to them.'.

Grandfather told them he was alone and at their mercy; that his wife and children needed the things he had bought for them, and that he needed the money he would get for hauling the freight. They thanked him for his kindness and rode away, leaving a better feeling existing between them. When horses were used instead of oxen on these trips and the teamster had some wild ones to break, he hitched them in and at the end of the trip the wild ones were broken.

Some men were so skilled in handling horses that they could hitch in one, two and three "potros" to a wagon "with no help" and start on a trip. He would rope a wild horse, put the hacamore on, tie one end of a long rope in the loop of the halter and put the other end of the rope through the ring on the end of the wagon tongue, then draw the animal into place, even though he would fight and kick. The teamster would put the harness on the horse, then with a rope tied in the ring on the trace pull it around and hook it to the singletree. With a trusty lead team, two wild ones in the swing, the third wild one on the offside and a trusty old wheel-horse for the freighter to ride, all was ready for the trip.

If oxen were used one or two saddle ponies or saddle mules were led behind the wagon to ride after the oxen every morning. At night each yoke of oxen was necked together. A bell was hung on one and rawhide hobbles fastened on their feet, then they were turned loose to graze. Some were well trained and knew what to do when his master called "woe come, ha" and "back."

Days Of Ox Wagon When Tim Cude was a young man about sixteen years old, living at Oakville, he joined the army in 1862. He was honorably discharged and returned home at the age of twenty-three. As he traveled on, coming to Lapara creek near his old home, he came upon his father and mother with a load of freight from Corpus Christi, bogged down in the mud. After watching Mr. Cude for awhile trying to make the oxen pull the load, the soldier asked them to let him drive, saying that he could make the team pull. They refused and told him that the only other person who could drive those oxen was their son, and he had not returned home since the war. The young man again offered to drive, and Mr. Cude agreed to give him a trial. He took the long raw-hide whip and gave it a ringing crack, calling to the oxen to come on. At once they began to pull the loaded wagon out of the creek and up the bank. When the parents heard him call to the team as he did when he was a boy at home, they knew he was their son. He had changed from a boy of sixteen to a man with long beard.

In later years, "Uncle Tim," as he was called by the young boys and girls, was selected by the citizens of Oakville, as an honest, trusty man, who they could depend upon to take a load of cowhides to Corpus Christi and exchange for flour, each man sending a sufficient number of hides to pay for a barrel of flour. The trip to Corpus Christi was made safely, although Indians still scouted over the country. The weather was very warm and dry. On the return trip when he reached the Nueces river, near where Mathis is today, the oxen, being hot and thirsty, ran down a steep bluff to the water, over-turning the load of flour into the water. Some of the oxen were killed, the wagon demolished, and the flour was a complete loss.   Mr. Cude managed to get two of the oxen out alive, also the front wheels and tongue of the wagon. It was with a heavy heart that "Uncle Tim" went home to tell the people the ill fate of the load of flour. They had been without bread for some time, as there was a severe drouth and no corn had been made. The settlers had plenty of meat and their wild game, but no bread.

Reconstruction Days

In the young days of the county the men worked with thrilling interest, building their homes and conducting the county's affairs, trying to protect life and property along with their everyday work of making an honest living. In 1875-76 a number of outlaws who had been driven from other counties drifted in, giving (he officers and settlers a great deal of trouble. After their patience was exhausted and their "ire raised," some of the best citizens decided the only prompt and effective way to deal with thieves and robbers was the old-fashioned one of a "short shift and a long rope," and for a time the outlaw in Bee county was in the wrong place.

When the war came on and most of the settlers volunteered for service in the army they left their cattle in charge of the men who remained at home. True to the proverb, "What's everybody's business is nobody's business," when the war broke up and the men came home they found a general mix up of their cattle. The cattle had not been kept around within a certain range as the owner had tried to do, and had had very little care during the three years. No man knew where his cattle were nor how many head he had. There were no fences and in the winter cattle and horses drifted to the coast.

Then came the reconstruction period for the stockman, when the rope and branding iron were used. The cowmen in the county rigged up a chuck wagon and cook to drive the wagon and do the cooking for the men. Each stockman furnished his part of everything, cowboys and ponies included.

The cowboy picked out his horses, about six or eight, for the trip. No one else rode them, as they were selected especially for the man to use as his mount for the entire trip. The ponies were trained for different classes of work. Some were culling ponies, some were for working cattle during the day, while some were drilled for riding around the herd at night, and especially in a stampede.

A few of them may have been "portros," or unbroken horses. If so, some time was required to teach them the rope. A saddle was placed on the animal and the cowboy mounted, roped a two-year-old steer and tied the end of the rope to the horn of the saddle, then turned the wild horse and steer loose on the prairie to have it out. The experience taught the portro a lesson he never forgot.

With this done, everything was ready to start on the "great roundup" to find their cattle and bring them home. Everything found in the herd was taken. The men made the rounds of the coast country, stopping for a few days at some good water holes while the hands scouted the country for more cattle.

After a few weeks they returned home, stopping on the Aransas, where the branding took place. There were no pens to put the cattle in, but the hands held the herd while others on good cutting ponies rode into the bunch, roped a calf or yearling and dragged the animal to the fire, where the men waited with red-hot irons to brand it like its mother. The boss had a book with each man's brand. A man was known by his brand more than by his name in the pioneer days.

In 1864-65 men began hauling poles to build pens for their horses. They watched after the horses during the day, but drove them home at night, placing the manatha in pens and leaving the remuqa, or saddle ponies, on the range. In 1869 there were 7,980 horses in the county, 60,320 head of cattle and 10,020 head of sheep. The "die-up" in 1871-72 claimed more than half of the cattle, but the loss was much less among the horses and sheep.

Cattle sold from $8 to $30 a head after they had been driven to Kansas City. Horses sold from $10 to $35 each, while sheep brought $1 a head.

About this time John Hynes owned a greater number of horses than any man in the county, the total being 750; J. A. Pettus led in cattle with about 4,000 head, while John King was the largest sheep owner, the number being 4,000.

County's First Drouth And First Fences

The first severe drought in Bee county of which there is any record was in 1863-64. It was followed by a severe winter and late spring, and with no protection from the cold a large percentage of the cattle died. As there was no trade in the country, due to the war, hides were valueless and the animals were not skinned.

The years that followed were seasonable and good corn crops were raised, with one exception, when frost killed corn during the latter part of April. The corn was almost big enough to tassel.

In 1871-72 the most disastrous drought the stockmen ever experienced came on, no rain falling in this section. The drought area extended to the hill country around Austin and San Antonio. However, Bee county had sufficient rainfall to produce grass for their stock, but when winter came on all the cattle from the drought-stricken district drifted in, ate all the grass and drank the pools of water dry, roaming up and down the streams day after day lowing for water. They died by the thousands all over the country that winter.

When the cattle began to die men started skinning them, as their hides were worth $3 each. A law was passed at first providing that a man could skin only cattle bearing his own brand, but later the cattle died so fast there was not sufficient time to look for one's own brand, so they took the hides off as they came to the carcasses. One man could remove eight or ten hides a day if he was efficient at the work. Some settlers paid for their land (at 12 1-2 cents to 50 cents per acre) with the money received from selling cow hides, and money was plentiful for the first time.

In 1866-68 the first fences were made in the county. They were built of rough heart plank, hauled over hog wallow or washboard roads with ox teams from St. Mary's. John Wilson, uncle of Turner and John Wilson, enclosed 600 acres at his home on the Aransas with three strings of plank. This was where the spring roundup and branding took place for many years. "Uncle John and Aunt Sis," as everyone called them, were among the first to improve a piece of land in the county. They had Negroes to do the work, negro quarters and cabins being included in the improvements. Dennis was one of the Negroes, and also Bill Williams, who was for many years afterward a familiar figure in Beeville.

Mr. Wilson brought the first Durham cattle to the county, buying 12 or 15 head from a northern state, paying several hundred dollars each for them. The cattle soon contracted the Texas fever, or tick fever, and refused to eat. Most of the hair came off their bodies. Everything was done to stimulate an appetite in the cattle and by experimenting it was found they would eat a few bites of cornbread. This food was, made for them until the fever subsided, when the cattle were able to relish grass, Only one cow and three bulls survived the epidemic.

This was a nucleus for the Durham cattle industry in this part of the country. Some years later Si Elliff purchased 40 or 50 head of half-breeds from Mr. Wilson for his ranch in San Patricio county. Uncle John and Aunt Sis were very charitable, always lending assistance to anyone who was in need. They had no children but were ever ready to do something for their neighbors' children, frequently giving some youngster a marc, colt or heifer calf with the request that they keep the animal and the increase until the boy or girl reached maturity. This kindness stood as a monument to this dear old pioneer couple.

Mr. Wilson erected a large pen made of poles to be used for a roping and branding pen, where the spring roundup was held for a few years. All that is left to mark this once busy ranch home are four or five walnut trees, which grew from nuts brought from Mexico on horseback in a moral hung on the horn of the saddle in the early sixties.

The posts for building the fences were hauled from Besados thicket on the Nueces river in San Patricio county. When larger pastures were fenced only one string of plank was used, with two strands of sleek wire. These fences cost from $200 to $400 per mile.

After the land was fenced owners of large stocks of horses sold them at greatly reduced prices to buyers who drove them to eastern markets. In 1877 the total number of horses in the county was 10,600. As they required more grazing land than cattle they were not considered so profitable. The sheep business also decreased rapidly from 1876 to 1880, as sheep required about as much attention in pastures as on the open range.

The winter of 1881 was the coldest this country had experienced in fifty years. The effects were disastrous to the sheep industry, the losses ranging from 10 per cent up to more than 50 per cent. About 5 per cent of the horses died, but cattle losses were small as grass was fine, and they were in good condition.

After the county was enclosed in pastures some stockmen drifted farther west to the open range. Jim Wilson, John Flint and W. A. Buttrill were among the number, settling in Presidio county. In 1883 there was an "epidemic" of fence cutting. About three miles of fencing was cut in the northern end of the county and about a hundred men assembled to look into it, subscribing $2 each to be offered as a reward for the capture of the offenders. A resolution also was adopted at the meeting asking congress to class fence cutting as a felony act, and that the punishment for committing the offense be a term in the penitentiary or a heavy fine. The practice of fence cutting soon ceased, as the land rapidly was being put under fence.

The First Post Office

The first post office to be established in Bee county was under the name of Medio Hill, October 31, 1857, with Michael Seeligson as postmaster. The name of the office was changed to Beeville when the county scat was moved, and Henderson Williams was appointed postmaster on May 6, 1859. (This was taken from the records at Washington.)

In 1870 a post office was established in the home of W. R. Hayes on the Aransas and in 1880 a mail route from Rockport to Helena (Karnes county) supplied Papalote, Aransas, Beeville, and San Domingo with the Rockport newspaper, the "Transcript," and also other Rockport mail. The contract was let to one man to carry the mail through in two days. He sublet it to three other parties and they each carried the mail a certain portion of the way. When the roads were muddy it often required four days to reach Beeville. The original contract price, however, was sufficient only to pay one man.

A two-horse hack was used for conveyance and sometimes a two-wheeled sulky or cart was drawn by two horses. The ponies were only grass-fed and not able to travel many miles a day over wet and muddy roads.

When this mail route started there was only a dim trail over the territory. One day Mr. Hayes drug a heavy log with two yokes of oxen from the Aransas Creek to Papalote to make the trail plainer.

Trucking was a commercial industry in Bee county as early as 1849, engaged in by Patrick Fadden, who lived in the junction of the Paesta and Aransas creeks. He made a specialty of selling corn and vegetables to the soldiers at Port Merrill on the Nueces river. Capt. A. C. Jones had a general merchandise store in Beeville on the east side of the courthouse square and was the first man to bring a mowing machine to the county. He ordered the machine from Canton, Ohio, in 1879.   When it reached San Antonio Mr. Jones sent Martin Reed there to bring it to Beeville and assemble it. When all was ready Mr. Reed cut a small patch of oats in part of the old cemetery which Mr. Jones hail fenced and planted. He then cut prairie (or native) hay over all the ground where the town is today. The hay camp was where the Flournoy home now stands and a cyclone came one day, taking it all away and putting the boys on the run for shelter and safety.

The people voted the county dry at a local option election held in March, 1877. The law was strictly enforced with scarcely any opposition. In the same year a portion of the school lands belonging to the county was sold at Beeville. The amount sold was 15,667 acres and brought $1 to $2.50 per acre. The interest on the money received was the available school hind, which, together with the apportionment from the state, made sufficient money to operate the schools from four to six months a year.

In 1880 there were 18 school districts with school being taught in 12 of them, as the population of the county decreased after some of the stockmen drifted to the open range. There were 370 white children and 11 colored children of scholastic age in the county at the time.   Eight hundred acre: of school land was unsold, the county was out of debt and its scrip was at par. The population of the county was 2,300 at this time.   Beeville did not attain a population of 500 until after the coming of the railroad in 1886.

The San Antonio & Aransas Pass Railway Co. ran the first train into Beeville on Monday evening, June 14, 1886. Walteg Barrett, engineer; J. E. Barker, conductor M. L. Wooley, baggage master.

The first carload of lumber was received in Beeville by John Whitehead. The first carload of furniture was received by Kohlf & Heldenfels on June 15. Last rail on Paesta bridge was laid at 8:40 a. m., June 17, with J. P. Nelson as superintendent of construction, A. M. Steges, engineer of bridges, C. Corner, engineer in charge of grading.

On January 16, 1886, the president of the San Antonio & Aransas Pass Railway came to Beeville, accompanied by Mr. Nilson, the chief contractor, to select a location for the depot grounds. The location selected was that occupied by the public school building. The trustees sold the building to the colored people for the sum of $400 and exchanged the block with Mr. A. C. [ones for 10 acres of land in North Beeville, where the school buildings are today.

The third week in June of this same year was an eventful week in the history of Bee county. The arrival of the first train on Monday, June 14, then the arrival and reception of the board of directors and their invited guests, on a special train on Thursday, and the first shipment of cattle from the stock pens south of town by Messrs. Clare and Burke on Friday. The first cattle shipment made from the county by rail was from Pettus on May 11, 1886, by Giles Little. Cattle shipments for the first week in July from Beeville amounted to 5,450 head.

As track laying progressed from Beeville south, the company built a turn-table on the Aransas creek, two miles north of the present town of Skiilmore. A 26,000 gallon tank was placed there and was supplied with water by a three-inch pipe 600 feet in length through which water was forced from a large pool in the creek by a steam engine.

Land advanced rapidly after the railroad came, and as high as $2.50 per front foot was asked for lots around the square. A doctor by the name of Ragland, from Refugio, purchased a lot 50x150 feet on the cast side of the square from L. F. Roberts for $500, and erected a building on it for his drug store.

The tax rolls for the year of 1886 show 549,775 acres of land rendered for taxation, valued at $1,340,891; 5,121 horses valued at $79,212; 56,626 cattle valued at $425,897; 3046 sheep valued at $3,716; 851 goats valued at $831; 1,145 hogs valued at $1,172; total valuation of property in the county $2,049,702. The total rate of county taxes vied each year for five years past was 15 cents for each $100 valuation. This amount was found sufficient to run the county, which was very little in debt.

Pioneer Woman

The pioneer woman played no small part in making Bee county what it is today. They were strong and brave, often staying alone with their small children for days and days while their husbands went for supplies or were hauling freight from the port to inland trading posts.

St. Mary's, the nearest trading place, was about 50 miles from Beeville, and in rainy weather the teams could make only about seven or eight miles a day over this low, flat country.

It was woman's part to wait and watch, and pick up the fragments that were in life's pathway. I'm sure she patiently waited and anxiously watched through the long days and nights, doing what her hands found to do. When her children were tucked in the trundle-bed at night and all was quiet, save for the howl of the coyote or the lonely hoot of an owl, she listened for the sound of her husband's wagon coming home, or the whistle of a friend and neighbor who might chance to come that way, for she knew the enemy would not come whistling.

They cooked on the open fireplace with hooks for hanging pots over the hot embers, baking bread in Dutch ovens on the hearth. Coffee was bought green and parched in an iron skillet over a hot fire, the housewife being careful to brown it evenly, not scorching a grain. Corn also was parched and used as coffee.

The mothers did the family washing at the spring down on the creek. Bluing was made from indigo weed raised in the garden, and soft soap was made from lye in the ash hopper. The women also made lye hominy. The wool, clipped from the sheep, was carded and spun into thread with which to knit socks and stockings for the family. There were no sewing machines, so the clothing was made by hand. In 1866 two English women, the Misses Cobb, bought land on the Olmos creek and erected a rock house that stands there today. They purchased 1,400 head of sheep, herding them day after day, wearing guns for protection, as the men did. They stayed out all night with their sheep if necessary to protect the lambs from the cold and from wolves.

Mrs. Sallie Skull was a horse trader, traveling most of the time, though her home was in "Dark Corner," which is Blanconia today. This was the east corner of the county. There was a growth of post oak trees that formed a shade, hence the name "Dark Corner." The remaining part of the county was prairie.

Mrs. Skull made trips to Mexico, buying from 50 to 100 head of horses at a time, bringing them here to sell. She even took them to eastern states. She went on horseback, and alone, except for her "sixshooter." It is said she often wore two guns. A few trusty Mexicans drove the horses and also took the wagon with Mrs. Skull's money and camp outfit.

On one occasion when Mrs. Skull was taking some horses east, with a bunch of Mexican cowhands, they came to the San Antonio river and found it very high. The.swimming was deep and the Mexicans balked on their job. Sallie placed a hand on her sixshooter and led the way across. The hired men proceeded to follow without further hesitation. She wore a long riding skirt, such as ladies used in riding side-saddles. Mrs. Skull was the mother of two children, who were reared and educated in New Orleans.

Mrs. Serena Phelps raised cattle. In 1874 she owned about 500 head.

With her husband and children she moved from Mississippi to Texas in the early part of 1850, and settled on the Medio creek. Two wagons, drawn by oxen, conveyed the necessities for the family on this long move, as well as some household articles for the new home. The mother and small children rode in a two-horse spring wagon. Three of the older children, who were in the teen age, walked almost the entire distance to drive the cattle along behind the wagon. Mrs. Phelps was one of the first pioneer women to sell produce from her home. She made butt and cheese, also cured and smoked deer hams; for these she found a sale in Goliad.

When the county was organized, the first court was held beneath the shade of some small post oak trees on the Phelps land.

It was about this time (1874) that Mrs. Reeves, Mrs. Webster, and Mrs. Rawlings each owned about 500 head of cattle.

Bee county's first doctor was a woman. Mrs. Page, mother of Charles and Sid Page. She and her husband came here in 1854, settling on the Aransas creek eight or ten miles below Beeville. Her husband helped organize the county. The deed to the Page land was the first recorded in the county. Mrs. Page traveled on horseback over the country to see her patients, taking medicine with her to administer to any member of the family.

During the "die-up" in the early seventies, when men skinned their cattle for hides, they tied one end of a rope to the hide and the other end to the saddle horn, dragging it home where their wives stretched the hides over poles or fences to dry while the husbands went for other hides. This was one way the women could help pay for the land and build homes, which they did gladly.

During the summer an arbor was built of brush for a camp meeting somewhere near a creek, spring, or pool of water. These meetings lasted a week, and sometimes two weeks, and were feasts, both spiritually and socially. Each mother prepared dinner and supper for her family on the grounds each day of the meeting. They listened to the word of God preached from the Holy Bible and sang the sweet songs of Zion from memory, while their little ones slept an pallets at their feet. Each year the pioneer looked forward with much interest to these meetings. If I were an artist, I'd pick the most beautiful flowers while they were sparkling with the kiss of the morning dew; with not a withered petal to mar their beauty, I would weave them into a lovely wreath and place it on the brow of the dear, sweet pioneer mothers, who trod over rough, thorny roads and endured hardships that we, their children, might inherit the freedom and comforts we have today.

The First School

JOHN F. PETTUS, one of the earliest settlers of the upper part of Bee county, moved his family here from DeWitt county in 1855, and built a home near the oil town that bears his name today. John Pettus was a native of Virginia, born in 1808, of Scotch-English ancestry, and came to Texas in his fourteenth year with his parents, who were among Austin's first three hundred colonists. He was one of Milam's 216 men, who were in the storming of San Antonio in 1835.

After moving his family to Bee county, Mr. Pettus engaged in raising cattle and horses, and established a comfortable home. He also owned a number of slaves. As his cattle increased he became one of the wealthiest and most noted stockmen of this section of the country at that time. The Pettus ranch home was known from the San Antonio river to the Rio Grande.

In 1859 the first school house in Bee county was erected on the Dry Medio creek by Mrs. Sallie Pettus, wife of John Pettus. The lumber for this building was brought by vessel from Florida to St. Mary's and brought by wagon sixty miles over rough country to the site selected. The original dimensions of the house were 16x16 feet. Holes were cut in the sides to admit light and air, but there were no window panes, or even board shutters, and the cracks were not battened. A chimney was built of sticks and adobe, but in severe cold weather school could not be held in the building. T. J. Smith taught the first school here in 1866. Joe, Lee, and Will Smith, buck, Aleitha, and James Pettus, John and Mallie McCollom, Duncan and Mattie Turner, and Hinkle Roberts were his pupils. About 1867 the school house was moved over between the Medio and Dry Medio creeks, where it stood for a couple of years and was then moved down on the banks of the Toro creek. Mrs. Julia Lewis, Ed Allen, and Mrs. J. W. Flournoy taught- school in this building while it was at this location. It was here Mrs. Flournoy first met the man she afterwards married, J. W. Flournoy, whose sole possession at that time was the mule he was riding and his saddle bags.

By this time the country was settling up somewhat, but settlers were still few. Mr. Porter, Eldrige Fuller, S. C. Davidson, and Robert Nutt located here about this time and their children attended this school. Later on, in the 70's, as the settlers increased along the San Domingo creek, the school house was riven to this community and moved to its last location. Here an addition was built on one end, making the building eight feet longer than it was originally, and other improvements were made. It was used for school, Sunday school and other religious services from the first year it was built, until the town of Normanna built up and more suitable places were erected.

The following incident will give an idea of the wilderness of this country about the time when this old building was first built.

"Just a short time before this Nick Stewart and a man by the name of Hopkins went from the San Marcos river in Guadalupe county down to Mr. Waller's on Waller's gully, near Oakville. On their return they came upon some Indians as they crossed a ravine. Hopkins was riding a fast horse and on seeing the Indians ran off from Stewart, who was mounted on a slower animal. The red men gave chase and Stewart, seeing he could not escape, reined his horse up at a thicket and fell off as though dead. On seeing this the pursuers passed him and kept on after Hopkins, whom they finally captured and killed, scalping him and cutting his tongue out. As soon as the Indians passed Mr. Stewart jumped up and ran off on foot, hiding in a mesquite tree and remaining there until the next morning, when he made his way back to Waller's. He was full of cactus thorns and nearly dead.

"After murdering Hopkins, the Indians went over towards the San Antonio river. Capt. Tom Tumbleson and a few men had struck their trail leading to the river and while following it came Upon the body of Hopkins where he had been killed. They dug a shallow grave with their knives and buried him there and continued on their way. Seeing a smoke in the distance they went ahead cautiously and came upon the Indians camped at noon. One of them was stationed on a hill keeping a lookout toward the river from which they had just come. Capt. Tumbleson and his men fired upon them and killed all but one, but he was mortally wounded and was found dead a few days later in Atascosa county. Their bodies were left unburied, as they Had left Hopkins, and their bones could be seen bleaching in the sun for many years after this school buildings was erected. This occurred on the Dry Medio a short distance: above the school house."

NOTE
Source: ln this little book, dealing with the early history of Bee and adjoining counties, is enjoyed by the pioneer men and women and their decendants as they read its pages, I shall be happy, indeed.
Love and respect prompted me to collect these facts to be preserved for future generations, and I trust each one who reads them will have a deeper feeling of gratitude for the brave men and women who, among savage beasts and still more savage men (Indians and Mexicans), laid the foundation for our present civilization.
There are only a few of these pioneers left today, and it has been my pleasure to meet some of them in this work, a number of whom have now passed on. Had it been possible, I would have had a brief sketch of each one who helped in settling these counties, as it is not my desire to be partial in any way.
In memory of my dear father and mother, Rev. and Mrs. Reason Reall Thames, this volume is lovingly dedicated. The Author Beeville, Texas. 1939.
During 1934 it was my pleasure to publish serially in The Bee-Picayune a brief history of the early day men, women and events of Bee county, with some sketches about the adjoining counties—Karnes, Goliad, San Patricio, and Live Oak.
The material had been gathered by Mrs. I. C. Madray, the daughter of a pioneer minister, Rev. Reason B. Thames, who felt that many dates and details of interesting events of the early days should be recorded. Mrs. Madray spent many months going from home to home, from community to community, and from county to county.

Transcribed and submitted by Barbara Ziegenmeyer.