Narrative
Uncle Hiram Burgess - Fifty Years a Resident of the Plateau- Nearly 77Years Old.
The Subject of this sketch was born near Bunker's Hill in White (nowPutnam) County, June 6, 1820. At the age of seventeen, he enlisted as asoldier under Grand Staff to assist in removing the Cherokee Indians fromthis part of the country, but, at the urgent request of his parents, hewas excused. When he lacked two weeks of being eighteen years of age, hewas married to Miss Nancy Campbell. They moved to the place where theynow live, near Winesap, fifty years ago. This old couple have passedtheir golden anniversary by eight years, keeping house and livingtogether as lovingly and agreeably as they did when they became one, overfifty eight years ago. How few there are who can show such a record.Fourteen children were born to them, eleven of whom still survive andlive on adjoining farms. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren are almostinnumerable.
As his name implies, King Hiram Burgess is verily the king of his ownkingdom. "Uncle Hiram" delights in telling of the by-gone days; of hisconduct and mode of living. He was never drunk in his life; never usedprofane language; was never seriously sick; never had a fight or anydifficulty; never had a lawsuit; and has been a member of the Free-WillBaptistChurch for fifty-one years.
When he came to the Plateau, fifty years ago, there were no roads here,he says only hog paths; no saw mills; no post offices; no mail routes; noschool or church houses; no stores nearer than Sparta, no mill except thefamous "Scarberry" Mill on the Canery Fork River; and no nails. When theywanted to floor their houses, they were compelled to split and hewpuncheon and then pin them down with wooden pins in lieu of nails. Heinvited the writer's attention to the floor he had laid in that way fiftyyears ago, and the proof was conclusive.
The neighbors were the Moyes', Lewis', and Wyatt's, with a few moredistant. They had no turning plows nor moving machines, wagons orbuggies, for they did not need them. Their living was in the woods. Whatfew cattle and sheep they had, lived all winter without feed. "UncleHiram" says he remembers well of feeding his horse only thirty-five smallbinds of fodder during the whole winter, and he kept fat on it. The hogsran wild and grew fat on the mast, which never failed in those days.
The Woods were full of wild game, such as deer and turkeys, and it was notrouble to kill as many as wanted any day. It was their money, theirbread, and their all.
"Uncle Hiram" is now nearly seventy-seven years of age, is as spry as aboy and can walk twenty miles in half a day easily. He still stalks tohis first love-hunting-but on account of the scarcity of the game,compared with his boyhood days, he mourns his lost opportunities. To thewriter of this sketch he said, "Oh how I wish it was like it used to behere.I would give anything if I could make it like it was when I firstcame here!" He still possesses the old gun with which he brought all hisrevenue from the woods. He has refused $75 for it at different times, hesays, no can it be bought today for that amount.
No one knows "Uncle Hiram" but to love and respect him. He always greetsyou with a smile and an outstretched hand. He owes no man - in short, heis one of the "noblest works of God" - "an honest man". M.S.J.
February 3, 1897 Vol. 11, No. 6
CROSSVILLE CHRONICLE