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butter and brandy； then pour hot water over it； and； while the family
were sitting around the room； waiting for breakfast； he would go to
each； and give to those who wished； a spoonful of this toddy； saying：
〃Will you have a taste； my daughter； or my son？〃 He never gave but
one spoonful； and then he drank what was left himself。 This custom
was never omitted。 I remember the closet where the barrel of spirits
was kept。 He used to give it out to the colored people in a pint cup
on Saturdays。 Persons have often said to me： 〃Our grandfathers used
it； and they did not get drunk。〃 Truly； we are reaping what they have
strewn。 They sowed to the wind and we are reaping the whirlwind。
After breakfast； the colored man； Patrick； who waited on my
grandfather； would bring out a horse and grandfather would ride around
the place。 He was very fond of hunting； and always kept hounds。 My
father would tell this joke on him。 When 〃Daddy〃 Rice was baptising
him in Dick's River grandpa said： 〃Hold on； Father Rice； I hear Sounder
barking on the cliffs。〃 Sounder was his favorite hound。 There was a
Mr。 Britt who was a great fox hunter； who lived near my grandfather；
and whose wife was opposed to his hunting。 One morning my grandfather
went by Mr。 Britt's house winding his hunter's horn。 Mr。 Britt
jumped for his trousers and so did Mrs。 Britt； who got them first and
threw them into the fire。 Another time； quite a party of ladies and
gentlemen had gathered at my grandfather's place； to go on a fox hunt。
Grandfather went upstairs hurriedly to put on his buckskin suit。 He
jumped across the banisters to facilitate matters； lost his balance and
tumbled down into the hall； where the company was waiting。 He did not
get hurt； it was a great joke on him。 When he was a young man
he learned carpentering in company with Buckner Miller； who was of
the same trade。 These two young men came to Kentucky from Virginia；
on horseback； seeking their fortunes。 They had many experiences；
always endeavoring to stop at houses for the night where there
were young ladies。 One house where there were quite a number of
girls； Buckner Miller played off this joke on my grandfather。 The
girls occupied the room below where the men were sleeping。 The men
heard a commotion in the girls' room。 My grandfather tipped softly；
down and Buckner after him； to find out what was going on。 They
opened the door sufficiently to see the girls in their gowns； circling
around the candle； playing 〃poison。〃 Mr。 Miller； to pay my grandfather
for some pranks he had played off on him； gave him a push； and grandfather
rushed into the middle of the room in his night clothes。 The
girls flew under the beds and the men ran upstairs and climbed out at
the window。
｛illust。 caption = MY FATHER； GEORGE MOORE。｝
My father's name was George Moore； and his father's name was
Martin Moore。 He was of Irish descent。 He had two brothers who
died when the cholera raged in Kentucky； about 1842。 One of them；
William Moore； married a Miss Blackburn of Versailles； Ky。 He had
several sisters； some of them died young。
Mark Antony； in his memorial address over the body of Caesar； said
that Brutus was Caesar's angel。 If I ever had an angel on earth； it was my
father。 I have met many men who had lovable characters； but none
equaled him in my estimation。 He was not a saint； but a manone of
the noblest works of God。 He was impetuous； quick； impatient； but never
nervous； could collect himself in a moment and was always master of
the situation。 I have seen him in many trying places but never remember
to have seen him in a condition of being afraid。 When he lived
in Cass County； Mo。； during the war； we saw Quantrell's men coming
up to the house。 These men were dressed in slouch hats； gray suits；
and had their guns and haversacks roped to their saddles。 My father
was a union man； but a southern sympathizer。 He cried like a child
when he heard the south had seceded and taken another flag。 He did
not know to what extent he was disliked by this gang of bushwhackers；
and we were very much alarmed； fully expected some harm was meant。
Men on both sides were frequently taken out and shot down。 When
the Bushwhackers would kill a union man then the Jayhawkers would
kill 〃a secesh。〃
My father said to us： 〃You stay in the house and keep quiet。 I will
meet them。〃 I watched him through a window。 He was tall and straight
as an Indian。 He walked up to them； taking off his hat and called 〃Good
morning〃 to them in a friendly tone。 Asked them to get off their horses；
for he had a treat for them。 In the corner of the yard was the carriage
house and under that was a rock spring house； through which a
living stream of water ran around the pans of milk。 He took them to
the door； gave them seats； then went in this milkhouse and brought out
a jar of buttermilk。 I have heard it said that buttermilk is one of the
greatest treats to a soldier。 He talked with these men as if they had
been friends； brought out fruit； loaded them with bread； butter and milk；
and they left without even taking a horse from us。 I fully believe it
was their intention to do some harm； but by the tact of my father they
were disarmed。 〃A soft answer turneth away wrath； but grievous words
stir up strife。〃 He was a thorough business man； but his social qualities
exceeded all others。 He often had to pay security debts； one for
Mr。 Key； his brother…in…law； of five thousand dollars。 Just before the
election of Lincoln； he took a large drove of mules to Natchez； Miss。；
twenty…two of these mules were of his own raising。 While there Lincoln
was elected； which threw the south into war。 He sold the mules
on time and never got a dollar for them。 To the honor of my father
be it said； he gave up all his property to pay his debts； never withholding；
where he could have done so。 A short while before he died there was
one debt of a few hundred dollars he could not pay。 He wept and told
me of this。 A year ago I settled up with Mr。 Wills' heirs and paid
this debt to his children； who live near Peculiar in Cass county； Mo。
It would be such d joy to my father to know that I did this to save his
honor。 When I see him； in our heavenly home； he will bless me for this。
〃Love knows no sacrifice。〃
I can not call to mind when the thought of self； governed any of my
father's actions。 It was his delight to provide for the comfort of others。
Devoted to his family and friends； and such a friend to the poor； I have
heard my mother say that he made every one rich who worked for him。
When I first remember him he was a 〃Trader〃 and left his farm to an
overseer。 My father drove hogs to Cincinnati before there were any
railways。 I was always at his heels； when I could be。 He was standing
on the stile one day giving directions to have a drove of hogs meet
him at a certain place on Sunday。 I said： 〃Pa； you will lose on those
hogs。 You ought not to do that on Sunday。〃 He gave me a quick；
light； playful slap； saying： 〃Stop that； every time you say that； I do
lose。〃
I can see that a responsibility to God was the fundamental principle
in my father's life。 After the negroes were freed； and we lived on
the farm； there was