Showing posts with label Parson John. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parson John. Show all posts
Life in Virginia
The Wagon as it comes down the hill through the tented shops.
The Parson and I have gotten entirely too much sun upon our faces.
Maggie always draws a crowd.
Capt. Logan and I in discussion by the station gate.
Images by Robt. Neidlinger
A WORTHY ENDEAVOUR
On September 20, 2009 at the Koh-Koh-Mah & Foster Living History Encampment near Kokomo, Indiana, Parson John Frank Jarboe officially announced to the 18th century living history community the formation of The Purefinder Fund.The fund which is named in honor of the late Colleen Gilbert is being established to help those in the 18th c. reenacting community who find themselves in need of assistance. Colleen Gilbert, known to many as her reenacting personae “Hester Purefinder,” was a gracious, loving and giving person. Colleen (Hester) was a true friend, helping both friends and strangers as she was able.
It is in her memory that The Purefinder Fund has been established. At the present time, The Purefinder Fund operates under Parson John Living History, Inc. a nonprofit 501c3.
Parson John Living History, Inc. is an organization dedicated to the study and presentation of the events that shaped the world during the European settlement of the American continent and the founding of the United States of America.
Parson John Living History, Inc. is governed by a board of directors and The Purefinder Fund is administered by a committee made up of 18th c. reenactors from a 6 state area and from different reenacting groups; military, native and civilian. In addition some members of the committee are professionals who are donating their knowledge in various areas, legal, financial &c. to the formation and operation of The Purefinder Fund.
The Siege at Fort Boonesborough part 2
Saturday, Sept. 26th- I could hear the driving rains all through the night on the roof of the cabin, it refused to subside. I awoke early and dressed and watched the still falling rain from the doorway. I made my breakfast of a small biscuit and a spot of gravy.I finally got out and gathered the blue box from the wagon and took it to the cabin mr. Farmer had set aside for my use as an office. The roads and paths were awash and made travel about the fort difficult. I splashed in newly formed creeks and rivers that flowed upon the paths and draped my pigskin apron over my head in an attempt to spare myself from some of the rain, to no avail.
The crowds of publick were light due to the falling weather, but I spoke to those that were interested enough to brave the waters.
A fortunate effect of the weather was that it seemed to ward off the impending indian attack. I suspect they did not have enough canoes to cross the soggy ground between their camps and the fort to wage an attack.
Afternoon brought a break in the rains and more publick to talk to, great numbers of them. I crowded them in and spoke to them in the largest groups I could.
It would appear that the fort has a cat lurking about, I found the door to the common house open, and there it sat, eating something I could not identify. I think I frightened it away, so I closed the door, lest it return.
I took my supper with Parson John and a very amiable group of others. We ate and made merry for several hours as the sun set. It was good to have the companionship, it was much needed.
The Battle of Blue Licks
TRAVELLED up into Kentuckee, along the Licking River and set up shop for a time among the pioneers at Tanner's Station, in the Year of our Lord seventeen hundred and eighty two.That evening, upon my arrival Parson John introduced me to miss Reasoner, who very kindly offered to fix and style my poor wig. It has been a dog's age without the proper care, and has begun to look like a dead animal upon my head. I gladly accepted her offer, and she told me to call upon her the next day to have it done.
I stayed the night with mr. Jas. Moore and we talked for a long time on a multitude of subjects. He informed me that his physician has him on some new physick, and that it seems to be agreeing with him. I did notice that his health seemed much improved from our past few conversations, he seemed quite his jovial old self, shewing me his latest batch of freshly bound Bibles. He regail'd me with tales of the materials used in each copy, the papers and the leathers, stitching and the like. His skill has improved greatly, and it shews in these, his latest editions.
I slept well, and we awoke early to share a breakfast of eggs and bacon. We talked of forted stations and our plans for travel for the coming months.
Fair at New Boston
September 5-6
Trade Faire at Fort Loudoun
Sept. 12-13
Koh-Koh-Mah
September 19 & 20
Ft. Boonesborough, KY
September 25-27
Historic Rock Castle
October 3 & 4
Fort Loudoun
Garrison Weekend
October 10-11
Traveller's Rest
October 15-16
Schoenbrunn Village Trade Fair
October 17 & 18
History Festival
October 23-24
Market Fair at Locust Grove
October 24th & 25th
After breakfast, I found a shady spot and set up the table loan'd to me by Parson John and was later loan'd a small stool by another fellow. I laid out all my tools and instruments and sat, reading my 1734 edition of the Poor Planter's Physician. It is vanity I suppose, that keeps me from wearing my spectacles, so I held up my magnifying glass so as to be able to better read the print. I was just beginning the section on Consumptive Coughs, when I looked up and noticed how out of the way I was. I would never get any business so far away from the main flow of ye publick.
I walked up the hill and introduced myself to the people in the tent right by the main entry, a Scot whose name I cannot at the moment recall, and a free man with a great beard, (I only assume he was a free man, as he did not seem to answer to any present.) whose name began with a D. I really am rubbish with names, please gentle reader, always assume that I have forgotten your name and reintroduce yourself to me from time to time... there really is SO much to think about, I just haven't the time to devote to remembering the multitude of names put to me!
The Scot and mr. D. very graciously allowed me to set up in front of their tent in a shady spot, as the day had begun to grow wretched hot. I made inquiries for miss Reasoner with several people, but none knew her whereabouts. My poor wig would have to go unfix'd a while longer.
I encountered mr. Daniel Boone and his older brother Squire, and listened as the younger gave a talk that detailed some of his adventures in Kentuckee. I stayed for near on an hour, longer than I had intended, but his tales were of such interest, I could not help but neglect my business.
Shortly after noon, I was offered a great slice of watermelon by mr. J. Blackerby, who held it in his hand and cut it with his sword. My piece was so large that I offered half of it to the Scot. I used my caitlin knife to slice off small pieces that I could fit in my mouth, and the Scot and I took turns spitting the seeds as far as we could like when I was a boy.
I demonstrated to good crowds of publick, once, as I demonstrated the finer points of amputation of the humerus on one of the young lads in attendance, I looked up and was surprised by how many people were standing and watching. There were very nearly fifty of them!
I walked up the hill and introduced myself to the people in the tent right by the main entry, a Scot whose name I cannot at the moment recall, and a free man with a great beard, (I only assume he was a free man, as he did not seem to answer to any present.) whose name began with a D. I really am rubbish with names, please gentle reader, always assume that I have forgotten your name and reintroduce yourself to me from time to time... there really is SO much to think about, I just haven't the time to devote to remembering the multitude of names put to me!
The Scot and mr. D. very graciously allowed me to set up in front of their tent in a shady spot, as the day had begun to grow wretched hot. I made inquiries for miss Reasoner with several people, but none knew her whereabouts. My poor wig would have to go unfix'd a while longer.
I encountered mr. Daniel Boone and his older brother Squire, and listened as the younger gave a talk that detailed some of his adventures in Kentuckee. I stayed for near on an hour, longer than I had intended, but his tales were of such interest, I could not help but neglect my business.
mr. Boone talks to the crowd.
Shortly after noon, I was offered a great slice of watermelon by mr. J. Blackerby, who held it in his hand and cut it with his sword. My piece was so large that I offered half of it to the Scot. I used my caitlin knife to slice off small pieces that I could fit in my mouth, and the Scot and I took turns spitting the seeds as far as we could like when I was a boy.
I demonstrated to good crowds of publick, once, as I demonstrated the finer points of amputation of the humerus on one of the young lads in attendance, I looked up and was surprised by how many people were standing and watching. There were very nearly fifty of them!
"Ye gods," I declared as I paused with the capital saw, the boy's arm cinched up in the tourniquet, "Where did YOU all come from?"
...to be continued...
SIEGE JOURNAL ENTRY 1
A copy of a section of the map drawn by mr. Senex in 1740 from my journal.
Thursday July 2- The mist from the Falls of Niagara could be seen from miles away before we ever heard its mighty roar. It was there that we joined up with Sergeant Gibbs and a large group of the Independent Company. The portion of the 1740 map of the area by mr. John Senex claimed that the falls spilled 600 feet. But I strongly suspect, after my own examination through those mists, that this is not the case. Tho' I can certainly understand how its beauty and grandeur might inspire such an exaggeration. I, myself, would respectfully submit the falls to be about half of mr. Senex's estimate.
After a small dinner, I conveyed the greetings and well wishes from Parson John and his servant Maggie back home to those in attendance. We then traveled northward to join up with the rest of the company that was already encamped in a staging area to the East of the French held fort. We arrived at the British encampment to the ring of tent stakes being driven. The English war machine was putting down roots in the form of dozens of tidy rows of white canvas tents. Some of the men from the Company had already set up a tent for the use of Lucy and myself. I must confess that, if the white tent had not been labeled and numbered, I would never have been able to find my way to it in the evening.
The upper corner of my tent read in thickly painted black letters:
R. DEMERE'S
INDt. COy.
SO. CA.
No. 5
A brief walk from the company's tent row, I discovered Dr. Clift, with whom I have been corresponding of late. Clift showed me to the large, fly-style coverings that would act as our Infirmary and Surgery. After our introductions, we went about arranging things to suit us. I found Clift to be very agreeable and somewhat eager to begin our duties at the hospital.
Lucy took ill after a portion of under cooked chicken from dinner, so with a bit of phisicking, I put her to bed for a rest in our tent.
Much of the remainder of the evening was spent in the singing of songs, a tradition of the Loudoun men after sunset. I have thus far found the climate most agreeable for July, pleasant and sunny with a nice breeze from Lake Ontario. None of the humidity in the air so common to the lands below the Ohio.
For those with an inclination for things musical, our group sang our typical fare. Fathom the Bowl, Don't forget your old shipmates, and a few others, plus plenty of British Grenadiers thrown in for good measure. Not having much of an appetite for things military, nor a fervid desire to bleed for King and country, I tow-row-rowed about three times and decided it was time for bed.
After a small dinner, I conveyed the greetings and well wishes from Parson John and his servant Maggie back home to those in attendance. We then traveled northward to join up with the rest of the company that was already encamped in a staging area to the East of the French held fort. We arrived at the British encampment to the ring of tent stakes being driven. The English war machine was putting down roots in the form of dozens of tidy rows of white canvas tents. Some of the men from the Company had already set up a tent for the use of Lucy and myself. I must confess that, if the white tent had not been labeled and numbered, I would never have been able to find my way to it in the evening.
The upper corner of my tent read in thickly painted black letters:
R. DEMERE'S
INDt. COy.
SO. CA.
No. 5
Row #4 of 12 rows of british tents. Each row consisted of two lines of tents placed back to back.
Image by Doc Muzzy.
Lucy took ill after a portion of under cooked chicken from dinner, so with a bit of phisicking, I put her to bed for a rest in our tent.
Much of the remainder of the evening was spent in the singing of songs, a tradition of the Loudoun men after sunset. I have thus far found the climate most agreeable for July, pleasant and sunny with a nice breeze from Lake Ontario. None of the humidity in the air so common to the lands below the Ohio.
For those with an inclination for things musical, our group sang our typical fare. Fathom the Bowl, Don't forget your old shipmates, and a few others, plus plenty of British Grenadiers thrown in for good measure. Not having much of an appetite for things military, nor a fervid desire to bleed for King and country, I tow-row-rowed about three times and decided it was time for bed.
AWAY TO VIRGINIA pt 3
ARDLY a moment has passed in the last few days that my mind has not been occupied with the coming adventure to Martin his Station. Only a brief report today, there is much to be done! The skies have been watercolour shades of indigo that bleed into gray for days, all moving Eastward toward my eventual destination near the Cumberland Gap. But there has been only light rain for the past few hours, so perhaps that bodes well for my chances of staying dry whilst at Martins. This shall be my final entry into this journal until my return.
The Doctor in the Loudoun Infirmary, not yet ready for the day.
Parson John and the Doctor have a drink and share each other's company at the Beggars & Boar Tavern at Loudoun's last Trade Fair.
On an unrelated note, The fine folks at Fort Loudoun have posted a new series of images from last year's Trade Fair. Have a look!
LOUDOUN Day 3
Sat 28. cont...- mr. Carol's meal was marvelous! It was topped off by two pound cakes.After supper we gathered again in the barracks and listened as mr. Carol and Miss Jess played their whistles, the soldiers sang & one of the local Cherokee women played her new flute.
The soldiers smoked and told stories of other forts, places they had been, places they wanted to go.
I stepped out several times to get some fresh air, the sky was full of big bright stars. In the distance, a large storm cloud brewed and threatened with silent lightning.
Some time after midnight I retired, just in time for the winds and storm to begin.
Sunday May 29- I awoke to a cold cabin. I could see my breath in the light that shone in through the planks. Looking over at the fire, I realized there was no hope of easily restoring it, there was no sign of coals. After a long time I braced and got out from under the blankets and dressed myself fully to try to gain some warmth.The Parson and Maggie had arrived in time to conduct Sunday service for the soldiers and the fort guests in the barracks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)