Freestone County, Texas
Biographies
Biography of James L. Miller
(Aug. 16, 1837-Jan. 5, 1921), buried at Wortham Cemetery)
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF J. L. MILLER
BORN AUGUST 16, 1837, IN McMINN COUNTY EAST TENNESSEE, TEN MILES WEST OF ATHENS,
COUNTY SEAT OF SAID COUNTY.
CHAPTER I
MY ANCESTRY and CHILDHOOD
My father’s name was William Miller and my mother’s name was Jane
Gibson. My father was born in Kentucky and my mother was born in Surry
County, North Carolina.
My father was the son of - - - - Miller, who was a stock raiser, and especially
fond of fine horses, which he trained for the race track..
My father was the eldest son of a large family, and after the death of
grandfather Miller, he had the burden of a large family left upon him. He had five
brothers: Jackson, Robert, David, John, and Clayton, and two sisters: Susan and
Peggy. My grandfather moved from Kentucky to East Tennessee in an early day;
and most of his children were born in Tennessee.
In addition to those mentioned above, my father had five half brothers, whose
names I am not able to give. The half brothers, as I remember, lived in middle
Tennessee.
Grandfather Miller died before my father was grown, hence I know very little
about the family history – only what my father could tell me.
After settling in Tennessee, the gander broke out among the horses and killed
most of them, which broke my grandfather up.
As already stated, my mother was born in North Carolina. Her parents
moved to East Tennessee when she was in her teens, 15 or 16 years of age. I
remember she used to tell me of the move across the mountains in their ox cart and
the screams of the panthers around the campfires at night.
My grandfather Gibson was born in Ireland and came to this country with his
parents in his infancy. He died in Calhoun, McMinn County, Tennessee. When I
was a small boy, I remember him very distinctly having visited his home frequently
during his illness.
It was always a great pleasure to me to go to the Grandfather’s. The Gibson
family consisted of four sons: John, Gessy, Daniel Jordan, and William Pinkey and
two daughters: Jane, my mother, and younger sister, Naomi Gibson.
In religion, my parents were Presbyterians of the Cumberland faith. They
were members of that church, when I was a boy as far back as I can remember. My
father was an elder in the church for forty or fifty years. He was a very industrious,
honest, truthful, and upright gentleman in every sense of the word and was loved
and respected by all who knew him. He never aspired to office and so far as I
know the only office he ever held was Captain of the Militia.
In those days, the Militia were trained for military service by officers elected
for that purpose. They met regularly on “muster” day and had plenty of whiskey,
and quite often, several fights on muster grounds.
Grandmother Gibson was a strict member of the Methodist church. I always
loved her and at this date, I remember when I visited her, that she taught me to say
the little prayer; “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my Soul to keep. If I
should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my Soul to take.” And this: “I go to bed
as to my grave, I pray the Lord my Soul to save. If I should die before I wake, I
pray the Lord my Soul to take.” She died in Bradley County, east Tennessee, at the
age of 63 and was buried in Flint Springs Cemetery.
As previously stated, I was born in McMinn County, Tennessee, but my
parents moved to Bradley County, Tennessee before I was old enough to remember
anything. In McMinn County, my parents lived by a man by the name of J. K.
Boyd, who was a wagon maker. My mother used to tell me that I would run away
from home and go to Boyd’s shop and watch him make wagon wheels. On one
occasion, I left home and wandered off into the hills and when my mother missed
me and went to look for me, she traced me across a stream which was frozen over.
We had a dog that I claimed as mine, named Bull, and on this occasion, after
mother found my tracks on the ice, she called the dog and he came to her and then
followed me into the hills a half a mile beyond where I crossed the stream on ice.
My parents were just common poor people and lived on a rented farm. They
raised a large family. I was the eldest child, and ten of us lived to be grown: seven
sons and two daughters. One sister, Lucinda, died at the age of ten. My full name
is James Lafayette, next to me was Perin, and then in the order of their ages:
Andrew Jackson, Susan, Catherine, Samuel, John, Naomi, Robert, and Daniel
David. At this writing, four brothers and two sisters who reached manhood and
womanhood have crossed over on the other side of the river, leaving myself,
Andrew Jackson, Catherine, and Robert Franklin on this side of the river. Two of
my brothers were ministers of the gospel, Gibson Perin is a Methodist minister.
CHAPTER II
My parents moved from the north part of Bradley County, near Charleston, to
the southern part of the county and rented a farm from J.K. Boyd, a wagon maker,
previously mentioned. It was there, I first met Miss Sarah Frances Gillian, whom I
afterwards married. We lived on Mr. Bord’s farm only one year. My father moved
from the Boyd farm to Whitfield County, Georgia, a distance of about two miles
and rented a farm from Mr. William Pulley, a Methodist minister. We remained on
the Pulley farm two years and then moved back to Bradley County, Tennessee,
living on the farm owned by M. Arch Hambright, a Cumberland Presbyterian
minister. It was during this year that I was married to Miss Sarah Frances Gillian,
October 4th, 1857. We had been sweethearts from the time we first met, four years
previous to our marriage. She was born at Spring Place, Georgia, September 12th,
1841. Her parents moved from Spring Place to Bradley County, Tennessee, when
she was three years of age. She and I were school mates for several years. She
taught me the “Seven Syllable Notation” as published in M.L. Sawns “New Harp”
of Columbia,published at Nashville, Tennessee. We never had any love quarrels
during our long courtship. She was a devoted and loyal member of the Methodist
Episcopal church, South, when I became acquainted with her in 1852 and was a
member of said church until her death which occurred June 15, 1916. She was a
true woman, a devoted wife and mother: unselfish, and always ready to do
everything in her power for the benefit and comfort for her children and those in
need or distress. After our marriage, when I was working hard to make a living –
making ten foot rails at $.50 per hundred, and doing other work at $.50 per day, she
would go into the forest and gather pine knots to make light for me to study my
arithmetic, grammar, history, etc. She helped me in every way possible with my
studies, and whatever success I have made in life, I am, in a great measure, indebted
to her for that success.
Thirteen children were born in our family, ten of whom are living, viz; Mrs.
Theresa Bounds, Miss Ella Miller, Mrs. Viola Walthall, Mrs. Fannis Johnson, Mrs.
Minnie Nash, Mrs. Anna Byers, J.E. Miller, Miss Beula Miller, Floyd Oscar Miller,
and Miss Mabel Clair Miller. We buried two boy in Tennessee, who died in
infancy before the Civil War. They are lying in the Sugar Creek cemetery in
Bradley County, Tennessee, awaiting the call of the last Trumpet.
Our last little boy that died is buried at Cryer Creek, in Navarro County,
Texas, where he died in 1873. We have not had a death in our immediate family for
43 years until we lost dear Mrs. Miller, June 15, 1916. It is remarkable that we
have ten living children, 34 grandchildren, and 9 great-grandchildren all living at
the present time. “Truly, I have been young, now I am old. Yet have I not seen the
righteous forsaken nor His Seed begging bread.” At this writing, I am 79 years, on
this month and 4 days old.
When we take a retrospective view of our lives we are lost in admiration,
wonder, love, praise, and meditation upon the goodness of God who has preserved
our loves during our infancy, childhood, youth, manhood and old age. We wonder
what good we have accomplished; still we are here awaiting the call of the Master.
CHAPTER III
How I Became A Teacher.
At the time I lived with my dear parents in Whitfield County, Georgia, the
state had no free school system except for the very poor children whose parents
were too poor to pay tuition. The teacher kept a daily record of the attendance of
such children and was paid by the government. In Tennessee, free schools were
maintained for about 3 months in a year. The local school was governed by a
school board of school commissioners consisting of 3 citizens. The commissioners
of the school near where I lived came to me and proposed to admit me into the
school on the condition that I would assist the teacher occasionally as he needed
me. I was delighted at the proposition and gladly accepted it.
At that time, I was 17 years old. The principal teacher, Mr. Leonodist
Earnest, was very kind to me, during my association with him. He was educated at
Hiwassee College near where we were teaching. My next experience was in
teaching after my marriage in 1857, when the same commissioners, Mr. Boyd, the
wagon maker, Dr. Bediah Leonard, and I fail to remember the other commissioner,
employed me to teach the public free school at Hopwell, in Bradley County,
Tennessee. I taught several terms there, and was teaching when the Civil War
broke out, and I went from the school room to the army.
Passing over the Civil War period, I will continue my experience as a teacher
in Tennessee. While at home on sick furlough I was captured by the federal
Soldiers on February 7, 1864 and sent to prison. Afterwards, setting in Bedford
County, Tennessee, near Wartrace, my neighbor, L.C. Cagle, was captured the same
time I was and he, too, settled near Wartrace, Tennessee. We hired to a Mr.
Coleman Horde to work on a farm. I undertook to cut cordwood for a wealthy
farmer by the name of Robert Mankin. I lived on Mr. J.S. Mankin’s farm, a son of
Robert Mankin. My friend Cagle, in a conversation with Mr. J. S. Mankin, told him
that I had taught school in east Tennessee before the war. To my surprise, Mr. J.S.
Mankin and Dr. Dave Hickerson came to my house and told me that they had
learned from Mr. Cagle that I was a school teacher in east Tennessee, and asked me
to make up a school, telling me at the same time that the people in the community
were very particular about who they sent their children to school to and said for me
to write a nice article and they would make up the school for me. I told them I had
no writing materials suitable for the purpose and they said they would furnish the
necessary material, telling me at the same time that they had no school house, but
that Robert Mankin had an old house in his field which had no roof. It had been
used for a stable, but we could get some clapboards and cover it, and that it was
warm weather and we could do it without a floor.
I began a three months term. August 1, 1864. At that time, I was renting a
cow from Mr. Coleman Horde, paying him $3 per month. After teaching about 6
weeks, I informed the pupils that I needed some money and requested them to tell
their parents if it was convenient for them to do so, to send me some money by
them the next morning. To my surprise, the next morning, the children brought me
$85.00. Some $10.00 down to $1.00 per family. That afternoon. I went home and
dropped the money into Mrs. Miller’s lap and she was as much surprised as I had
been that morning when I receive the money from the school children. I bought a
cow from Mr. Hart Evlis for $45.00, and returned the rented cow to Mr. Horde. I
have never rented a cow since.
At the close of the term, the patrons desired me to continue the school, but
winter was approaching and we had no floor in the house and no chimney. It was
to my interest to continue the school, and in order to do so, it was absolutely
necessary to repair the old log cabin. So, I bought some broad popular planks, or
board from a man who lived on Knob Creek, near Wartrace. The planks, or boards,
had been sawn logs, known as sheeting planks. In order to make a floor of such
material, it was necessary to smooth the bark edges which I did with my chopping
axe. The school boys assisted me in building a stick and clay chimney, which we
built at noon hour, recess, and before school in the mornings.
With these improvements, we entered upon a second 3 months term, at the
close of which I was informed by the patrons that they desired to continue the
school, but that we had no school house, as Mr. Mankin wanted to put a renter in
the school house to cultivate his land. They said if I would build a school house
they would furnish the money, etc. In order to build a house quickly and as cheaply
as possible, I collected together a quantity of cedar stringers that the Yankees had
taken out of the Nashville & Chattanooga Railroad. There were sawn off of
straight logs of proper length for house logs and were 6X8, as well as I remember.
When the above named railroad was built, these stringers were laid upon the logs,
laid across the road bed, as we now lay cross-ties, though several feet apart and
were fastened by notches in said logs then keyed in the gage by wood keys. After
this was done, small bars of iron were laid upon the stringers and fastened down by
iron spikes. When the Yankees invaded Tennessee, they took out all of this light
material and put down heavy rails. Thus, you see how I secured logs for the new
house. Being of equal length, it was easy to build a neat house. Having the walls
erected, I felled a great oak tree and split out boards with which to line the openings
between the logs. In a short time we were ready to open school in our own school
house. This year, and as long as I taught, we had a 10 months school year.
During the 6 years I taught in Bedford County, my work was very satisfactory. If I
needed money, all I had to do was to tell the pupils to bring it to me, and during the
entire period of six years, I don’t think I lost as much as $5.00 in tuition.
During vacations, I worked on the N. & C. Railroad with Mr. Bill Eason. I
guarded a bridge that spanned the Garrison River one mile from Wartrace.
We were poor and Mrs. Miller and I had a hard struggle in life to rear the
family. The people were indeed very kind to us during our sojourn in Bedford
County.
CHAPTER IV
My Experience In The Confederate War.
In 1862, I abandoned the school room in Bradley County, East Tennessee,
and joined the 9th, Tennessee regiment of infantry at Knoxville, Tennessee. By the
laws of the Confederacy, I was exempt from military duty because of my profession
as a teacher, but in east Tennessee about three-fourths of the people are opposed to
war and a man who had voted for secession was safer in the army than he was at
home. And there was disposition on the part of Lincolnites to see that all who
favored the Confederacy should enter the army while they themselves remained
behind the Confederate lines or secluded themselves in the woods to avoid service
in the Southern army, and the latter class constituted the larger part.
I was in Company I, Memphis Rangers, under Capt. Rogers, a member of
the Roman Catholic Church. During my service as a soldier I made many friends
among the members of my company. When I left home to go to Knoxville, I
carried with me a copy of Walker’s Christian Harmony, and we would collect
together evenings and sing the old songs our parents and grandparents sang when
we were children sitting around our happy fireside, and thus, past the time very
pleasantly while at camp.
We had some very hard times and, often, some pleasant memories in those
times that tried men’s Souls. We had fine officers and I admired all of them.
Leoidus Polk commanded our Corps., Frank Cheatham our division, George Maney
our Brigade, and the regiment was commanded by different men at different times.
At the time I entered the service, Colonel Hart was in command of the
Regiment. He was a very brave man and a good officer. In 1862 the 9th. Infantry
were consolidated at Murfreesboro, Tennessee. General Braxton Bragg was in
command of the Tennessee army at the time of the consolidation. He was a man
that I admired though many of the soldiers disliked him because of his rigid
discipline and his stern disposition. He was a good fighter and was careful of his
men. In the battle of Murfreesboro, December 31, 1862, he attacked General
Rosecrans at daylight and put the right wing of the federals to flight. It was the
intentions of Rosecrans to attack Bragg’s force at 8 a.m., but Bragg caught on to his
plan and advanced on the federals at daylight.
We had been on duty at La Vergne, a village 15 miles from Nashville,
Tennessee, and while there Colonel Hart, on Christmas Day, treated our regiment to
a barbecue of goat meet. I thought it was the best dinner I had ever eaten. (You
who read this little book, if you have never been a soldier, don’t know how much
appreciation is attached to a kindness of this kind.)
One night, just before Rosecrans advanced on Bragg from Nashville, Colonel
Hart took the regiment and a battery of artillery, also a cavalry force, and went
down the turnpike within 7 miles of Nashville with a view of capturing a force of
federals who were stationed there, but the cavalry made a mistake and instead of
getting between Nashville and the federals, they came between our regiment and the
Yankees. So the move was a failure. Our battery threw a few shells into the camp
of the enemy and returned to camp. I was not with the regiment on this occasion,
having been vaccinated, my arm was too sore to carry my gun. When the boys
returned and reported their failure, I told then that it just meant that Rosecrans
would pay them back in side of a week, and he did. On Saturday, December 28th,
our regiment was attacked by the enemy at La Vergne, Tennessee. We fought them
for several hours, retreating towards Murfreesboro. The Yanks were following us
on both sides of the pike road. We would lie on the ground in the woods on each
side of the pike until they were near us, then we would fire and then retreat at the
double quick for a short distance and repeat the fire. We continued this skirmish
fire until we crossed Stewart’s Creek. We burned the bridge and camped that night
within 5 miles of Murfreesboro. Captain Rogers walked out that day from
Murfreesboro and met us during the fight.
I remember asking him what was going on at Murfreesboro, and he told me
that they were going to have a H--- of a fight in a few days. I said to him that I had
heard a great deal said about his church (the R.C. church), but that I didn’t know
anything about it? I said, “What kind of church is it?” and he replied that it was the
“#/@- best church in the world.” He was not with our company very much of the
time, but was a recruiting officer. He never failed to be with us when a battle was
in hand.
After spending the night in camp we marched to Murfreesboro and occupied
our old camp grounds. It was Sunday. We drew 3 days rations, and more advise to
have it cooked and ready for marching orders at 6:00 Monday morning. We were
in line next morning according to the orders given the previous day. We were
marched across Stone River and took our place in battle, in the left wing of our
army, and remained in that line all the next day. On Tuesday December 30,
McCovans’ Texas division came on the field and took position on our left. I had a
brother, G.P. Miller, in the 10th, Texas Regiment who I had not seen since Bragg
made his raid into Kentucky and hearing that McGowan’s division was coming, I
obtained permission to leave rank to look for my brother. I stood on the side of the
pike and inquired for the 10th Texas regiment and as it passed I inquired for the
company to which my brother belonged. He was, at the time, commanding the
company and when I spoke to him, he told me that their command was going into
battle in a few minutes and for me to come back to see him that night. Again
obtaining leave of my officers I visited the 10th Texas Regiment and spent several
hours with my brother and his friends.
The next morning, December 31, 1862, Bragg attacked the enemy as has
been stated. At roll call, before the battle, our regiment numbered 544 men and that
night, after the battle, 272 answered present. Our losses consisted principally of
those who had been wounded. In the battle, our regiment supported Smith’s
battery. When we were in line of battle that morning, Lt. Sparks asked Henry
Rasiner, a Russian Jew, if the yanks would kill him that day. He answered “No,”
with the bitterest oath that could be uttered. My brother, G.P. Miller, said the yanks
never made a bullet that would kill him. I never entertained an option like that. I
knew that some would be killed and thought it was as apt to be me as anyone else.
He was disabled in the battle. A cannon ball struck a fence rail and one of the rails
struck him and crippled him in the hip. He was sent from the battle to the hospital
in Cleveland, Tennessee, and while there, got a permit to visit father’s family about
10 miles from Cleveland, and while at fathers’, was taken sick with smallpox.
Father sent for my wife to come to see him, before it was know that he had
smallpox, and my only child, Theresa, then 3 years old, caught the disease.
Henry Rasiner, previously mentioned, was killed by my side by a piece of
shell. After the battle we were kept in line night and day till Sunday morning about
4:00 a.m.
The losses in the battle were 13,000 federals and 10,000 Confederates. I
desire to state that the private soldier knows very little about the movements in a
great army, especially during a great battle. During the 6 days at Murfreesboro we
were continuously in line of battle, after the battle on Wednesday, we occupied the
cedar forest during the day, and at night we were transferred to the rifle pits in the
open fields, and then back to the cedars during the darkness. If we slept at anytime
during the day or at night, we had our hands on our guns. The 3 days ration we
prepared on Sunday, before the battle, was all he had until Friday night. I was
placed on the picket line Thursday morning before daylight and all I had to eat that
day was a few cornbread crumbs. I had no water. The officer told us that they
would send to Stone River for water, and fill our canteens and send them on to the
picket line, but owing to the sharp firing line during the day, canteens were not sent.
When our command went into battle Monday morning, we crossed the river
on a bridge. The river was not running though there was water in many places in
the bed of the river. It had been raining some that week and when we reached the
river in our retreat on Sunday morning, the stream was flowing briskly, and when
the head of our column reached the slippery river banks, the men halted, seeming to
dread the cold water. I shall never forget our good Colonel Hart who exclaimed,
“March in there, what the H— are you halting for right under the fire of the
enemy?” They obeyed orders and waded the river, the water being near waist deep.
After passing through the town of Murfreesboro we halted for a rest. Some
of the boys had left ranks and gone foraging among the denizens, returning to us on
the pike with fresh baked corn bread and raw bacon, which they sold to us at
Confederate war prices. I purchased a slice of bacon about as long as my forefinger
and as wide as my two fingers, and not more that one-eighth of an inch thick for
$.25 in Confederate script. We continued our march after resting 2 or 3 hours and
camped 5 hours north of Shelbyville, Bedford County.
One of the soldiers bought a large ham of meat for Lieutenant Sparks. He cut
out as much as he wanted and handed the rest of it to us saying he had as much as
he could eat. Of course, it was a treat to us that we very much appreciated.
Resuming our march the next morning, we passed through Shelbyville,
crossed the Duck River and went into camp on the south side of the river, remaining
in or near Shelbyville during the spring and summer, until the Union army begain
advancing from Nashville. When Bragg formed his line of battle towards
Murfreesboro, our baggage wagon with our cooking utensils, blankets, etc., were
ordered to Bridgeport Alabama, and it was some 10 days or two weeks before the
wagons returned to us at Shelbyville. During that time we cooked our meals over
the fire by running a sharp stick through it, holding it over our log fires. We had no
salt. Sometimes we would draw rations of cornmeal and nothing else. On such
days we had corn mush to eat. During the spring, my health failed. I had fever and
one day our regiment surgeon came to the tent and informed us that the army, in a
few days, would retreat; that the enemy would drive upon us and that we would
likely go on ‘the double quick’; that I was not able to stand the march due to my ill
health and for me to prepare to go to the hospital at Rome, Georgia. The next day I
was sent to the train and started to Rome. Mrs. Miller and our little girl was with
me at the time. Before going aboard the train, my wife bought a glass of buttermilk
for me, which I drank and became violently ill. I shall never forget the suffering I
endured that day. My suffering was so intense; I could not sit up, but lay on the
floor of the coach. The train reached Chattanooga; I was taken off and placed in the
hospital there, being unable to continue the trip to Rome.
Mrs. Miller left me and went home, a distance of 20 miles. At this late date, I
fail to remember just how long I remained at Chattanooga. Mrs. Miller was with
me several times, and while there on one occasion she brought fresh cooked new
potatoes, some fried pies, and fried chicken, which she had prepared at home.
At that time, I was without fever and the doctors had been promising to give me a
furlough home. I had observed that the surgeons had granted several furloughs
home. I had spoken to them frequently in regards to the matter and they had
promised that I would be a fit subject for a furlough when my health would permit,
but that they would not think of sending me home in my feeble condition: that there
was not medicine in the country, and that I would die if I left before my health
improved.
My conclusion was that they did not intend to grant me a furlough, that they were
just putting me off, etc.
When my wife brought me the good things to eat, before mentioned, I wanted
to be honest and fair with the doctors and not do anything contrary to their
instructions, so I told them about the things my wife had brought me and asked if I
might eat them, and they said that I might eat a little chicken and potatoes, but they
vetoed pies. After the conversation I partook of the things mentioned. The next
morning, I realized that my fever had returned and when the ward surgeon came to
my bunk, as was the custom each day, he felt my pulse and said I had fever again. I
told him that I did not, but he replied that I could not fool him. You see, I willfully
storied to him. I was so anxious to obtain leave to go home that I did not tell the
truth. Our motto should be to tell the truth though the Heavens fall.
My indiscretion in my diet caused me to remain in the hospital several more
weeks. When I received the long desired furlough, I took passage on the Cleveland
branch of the East Tennessee & Georgia Railroad early one morning for home. I
left the train at Black Fox, about 4 miles from Cleveland, where my dear father
met me with horse and saddle. It was with difficulty that I mounted the horse
which father led while I held on the pommel of the saddle. I was so weak I could
hardly sit on the horse. My health became better as the weeks rolled by, but I was
unable to return to duty and the soldiers I met, almost daily, advised me not to
return to my command, although my furlough had expired. Just before the battle of
Chickamauga, my uncles, Dave Miller, Jackson Miller, and Bryant Thompson, who
were in Jo Wheeler’s command obtained leave of absence to visit my father for one
night. Wheeler had made a raid on a federal force at Cleveland, 4 miles from my
father’s home, completely routing them, and returning toward Chickamauga. The
command passed within a half a mile of my father’s house and Wheeler granted my
uncle leave to visit with my father, as before stated.
I was at father’s next morning, when they saddled their horses to rejoin their
command which had gone on to Chickamauga. My uncle, Dave Miller was a Free
Will Baptist preacher, and I shall never forget what he said to his brother and
brother-in-law, which was in substance as follows: “Jack, you and Bryant don’t
know about this war, you can go on to Chickamauga if you like, but I am going
home and I am going to stay there.” Uncle Jackson said, “No”, he was going to kill
a yankee before he went home. They parted company. Dave went home and the
other two went to the battle and were both captured and put in the Rock Island
Prison where Jackson died and Bryant Thompson remained a prisoner until the war
was over.
The day after the battle of Chickamauga, I had an experience that I will
remember as long as I live. Mrs. Miller had two fat hogs in the pen and we had
decided to slaughter one of them. My brother, A.J. Miller was at home, having
been captured and paroled at Perryville, Kentucky. I arranged with him to bring a
barrel from father’s and I prepared for killing the porker by heating rocks in the
fire-place. My rocks were getting red hot so I went to the door and looked across
the clover field to see if Andy was coming with the barrel. As I reached the door, I
saw brother coming, and at the same time, heard somebody beating on the R.R.
tracks, and turning, I saw a company of Union soldiers tearing up the R.R. at the
road-crossing, about 150 yards from the house. Mrs. Miller was spinning wool
rolls at the time. I told her that the yankees were destroying the R.R. track and
would be at the house within 5 minutes, for her to tell them that I belonged to Frank
Cheatham’s division at Chickamauga. I left the house and took a position west of
the log kitchen where I could see across the open hall and through the house. In
less than 5 minutes, an officer entered the house dragging his long saber on the
floor and entering into conversation with my wife, who told him I was in Braggs’
army; that I belonged to Cheatham’s division, etc. The officer stood at the mirror
combing his hair and curling his whiskers. He told her if her husband was in
Cheatham’s army that he was killed or captured, that they had betrayed his army.
The more they talked, they faster Mrs. Miller turned the old spinning wheel. After
he left the house, I crawled on my elbows and knees to the orchard fence and
pulling out a rail, I went through the fence into a stubble field and lay in the field all
day.
When the company completed their work at the crossing, they continued their
march down the valley, hunting cord-wood and cross-ties, and tearing up the R.R.
track in many places. Twice that day I had to change my place in the wheat field to
avoid being run over by the yankees. Late that afternoon, they returned to
Cleveland, which was their headquarters. About sunset, I called to my wife from
the orchard fence and when she came to me, I told her to get my supper ready, that I
would go to the Rebel army that night at Dalton, Georgia, which was some 25 miles
south of my house. She soon brought me a good supper. I had had no dinner.
Having eaten, I went to the house and took such bedding as I could carry, and
in company with Mrs. Miller and our little daughter, Theresa, who I taking to
father’s, I set out for the Confederate camp at Dalton.
I will here relate an incident that may be of interest, or at least amusing to
some friend who may read this little book. We had gone a short distance from the
house when we heard someone talking and stopped to listen. I recognized my
father’s voice. We stood there on the railroad til father came to us in company with
my wife’s uncle, John Birchfield whom we had not seen since the war commenced.
We was a Union man, or, as we called such men, a Lincolnite. Having met him, I
abandoned the night march to Dalton and agreed to stay with him that night. So we
made our bed in the clover field in a thicket of sassafras bushes. Uncle John lost no
time in admonishing me to quit the army; telling me that the yanks had come to
stay, that a large force of cavalry and infantry with artillery were at Cleveland, just
4 miles from where we were spending the night. We talked all night and it
appeared that he was trying to make me as miserable as possible. About 4 o’clock
in the morning, we heard a body of cavalry coming up the valley and Birchfield
said, “just listen,” “What is that?” He asked me. I told him that it was Joe Wheelers
cavalry coming to attack the Yanks at Cleveland. He asked. “Do you think so”. I
answered, “I know so”. He said that there were too many Rebels in the raid, that he
had to get back across the river. We heard the first fire, and we knew Wheeler was
driving rapidly by the sound of the musketry. I invited Uncle John to breakfast
with me at my father’s before starting on his retreat across the Tennessee River. A
soon as we had breakfast, he started across the field in a brisk walk, and I climbed
to the top of a shuck pen at the farm yard, took my hat off, and waving it about my
head, hollered, “Hurrah for Jeff Davis and the Confederacy”. I did not cease til my
uncle had reached the woods nearly a mile from the house. It may have been
wicked in me, but I was so much rejoiced after he had made me feel so bad the
night before that I could not refrain from tantalizing him. That was the last time I
ever saw Mr. Birch- field.
In a few days after the incident just related, my parents insisted that I should
go south with my wife and little daughter. They feared that the Tennessee Yanks
would kill me. While I had no fear for such a thing, to gratify the desire of my
father and mother, I loaded an ox-cart (wagon) with our little household goods and
some fine wheat my father had planted and harvested for my wife and started south.
My brother, Andy, was a teamster or driver. We had not gone more than 10 miles
until we decided that our team was not able to carry the load. So we stopped at the
state line, 17 miles north of Dalton, Georgia, and went into a house that one Mr.
Harrison Taff was vacating and moved south, with a view of keeping out of the way
of the federal army.
He was a fine man, a high toned Christian gentleman in every sense of the
term. I never saw him afterwards. On Sunday, after we went into the house, two of
my friends, Mr. J.K. Boyd, with whom I had lived and worked for before I was
married, and Mr. John Britton, visited me and spent the day with me. Mr. Boyd
was a Union man and Mr. Britton, like myself, was a Rebel. Mr. Boyd seemed to
fear that Britton and myself were in great danger and advised us to go south and
keep out of reach of the federal army. I told Mr. Boyd that in my opinion, he was in
more danger than either of us. He appeared to be excited and agitated at my remark
and asked why I thought so, and I told him that he had been trading with both
parties and that his own neighbors were his enemies; that Britton and I had exposed
the cause of the Confederacy, etc. Mr. Boyd was met afterwards by a squad of
Yankees while riding around his field and one of the men pointed toward his house
and asked if J.K. Boyd lived there. Boyd answered, “I am the man”. The yanks
said, “We have come to kill you”. Boyd said, “I reckon not”, and turned his horse
toward home. They shot him in the back. He rode to the house, got off his horse,
laid down the drawbars and fell over them and died that afternoon.
My health was not improving. I had been sick for 4 or 5 months and was
being treated by our family physician. I did not sleep in the house, fearing I would
be captured by the Yanks. On February 7, 1864, one of my neighbors, Salem
Earnest, who was visiting his widowed mother, from Lee’s army in Virginia came
to my house to see me. It was a very cold day. Mr. Earnest said to me before
leaving, “Jim, don’t sleep in the house tonight or the Yanks will get you. I heard a
regular old yankee drum about sundown – it was no Rebel drum”. He left my
house about 10:00 o’clock that night. I walked out into the yard with him. We
shook hands and he left for home.
It was so cold, I hesitated and debated in my mind as to whether it would be prudent
for me to leave the house and go into the woods to spend the night. Finally, I
decided to sleep in the house even if the Yankees did capture me. I went into the
house, warmed by the fire and went to bed. In a few minutes, I heard cavalry
horses coming down the rock road, but that was nothing new, for every day Rebel
soldiers were passing my house. I realized that it was Yankees, for the Rebels
invariably rode to the front gate, stopped and hollered, then I would go out and
meet them. Sometimes we would converse for a considerable time, and on some
occasions they would dismount and we would go into the house and remain for half
and hour or more.
As soon as they dismounted, I could hear them coming toward the house
through the dry weeds and cornstalks in the field. When they reached the house,
they called for me – ordering me to open the door. As I did not open it at once, they
ordered me to open it immediately. I told them I would open it as soon as I could
dress and light a lamp. When I opened it, they had, I suppose, 6 or 8 pistols pointed
at me. They claimed they were Rebel soldiers looking for deserters from the Rebel
army, etc.
Finally, one of them said, “Jim Miller, you know me. You are our prisoner
and you can prepare to go to Cleveland.” I recognized him by his voice. He was
my neighbor, Ike Richmond, who had left home and gone to Kentucky and joined
the yankee’s army at the beginning of the war. When I was ready, he said to my
wife, “Sarah, I hate to take your husband off, but the Rebels killed my father, etc”.
They had captured my friend and neighbor, L.C. Cagle before coming to my
house. Richmond, Cagle, myself and wife, had been school mates. It was a fact
that his father had been killed. I will give, as far as I can, the story of his death.
My friend, John Britton, previously mentioned, lived less than one mile from Mr.
Sam Richmond, Ike Richmond’s father. And I am indebted to him for the
statements that follow in regards to Mr. Sam Richmond’s death.
John Britton visited my wife’s brother, Mr. B.C. Gillian, about dark one
evening and said, in my presence, that two men who had secreted themselves in the
woods near his house, had called to him from the woods and asked for something to
eat. He carried their dinner to them and they told him, that they were Rebel
soldiers, that they wanted him to tell them where Sam Richmond lived, that they
were going to put him out of the way that night. They said Richmond was piloting
Union soldiers across the Tennessee into the yankee army, and that they were going
to tell him they were deserters from the Confederate army, and would ask him to
assist them in reaching the Union lines, and that they would lose him on the way.
When Britton related this story, I asked him why he did not let Richmond know
about the matter in order that he night not fall into their hands. He said that they
might be setting a trap for him. I told him that I would have informed Richmond at
the risk of my life
On Wednesday following, the Richmond family and their friends made an all
day search for Mr. Richmond, but failed to find him. It was Sunday, that Britton
related the story above mentioned, and the search for him was made the following
Wednesday.
The Richmond family reported that the men came to their house just about
dark and asked Mr. Richmond to assist them in getting to the yankee lines, that they
were deserters from the Confederate army, etc. Mr. Richmond refused to comply
with their request, said his family, but consented to pilot them across the creek.
There was a drift in the creek over which the crossing would be made. The drift
was about one mile from the Richmond house. After the search was made, nothing
more was known about the affair except that Mr. Richmond did not return home.
His little son was hunting their sheep in the creek bottom and found his father’s
bones lying by a log. He recognized that it was his father by the hat that he wore
when he left home that night with the two men.
I will relate another story connected with the cruel death of my neighbor Mr.
Richmond. My younger brother, A.J. Miller, previously mentioned, was attending
a party one night and the subject of ghosts became the topic of conversation.
Brother said he was not afraid of ghost. (This was before the little boy found his
father’s bones in the creek bottom) Brother Andy made the remark that he would
not be afraid to place his hands on Sam Richmond. Someone in the company
reported that Andy Miller said, “He could place his hands on Sam Richmond”. The
result was my brother was arrested and placed in jail in Cleveland, Bradley County,
Tennessee. My wife’s brother was arrested about the same time and placed in the
same jail. They were taken from the jail one day to dig a grave. The soldiers, of
course, were guarding them while they were digging and the officer in charge, after
they had measured off the grave and started digging, told them that the grave was
not long enough and ordered them to make it longer. This alarmed by brother-in-
law, he being a very tall man, about 6 foot 4 inches in height. He was impressed
that it was his own grave he was digging. He told me after the war that, that was
the most miserable day of his life.
My brother was tried in the district court and acquitted. Judge Gant defended
him, charging a fee of $50.00. My recollection is that Mr. Gillian was never tried.
(You will pardon the depression).
I will return to the 7th, of February. Leaving my home with my captors, some
8 or 10 of them, we started to Cleveland, a distance of about 13 miles. Our enemies
returned by Cagle’s house, where they had captured him before coming to my
house. At Cagle’s they took a fine mare that belonged to John Hughes, Cagle’s
wife’s brother. As soon as we started on the march, Cagle’s wife gave him a lecture
that I shall ever remember, the substance of which is as follows: “Now Lewis, don’t
you take that nasty stinking yankee oath. Go to prison and die first”. She was a
true and noble Southern woman, and like Mrs. Miller, a Rebel to the core. She
continued talking as long as we could hear her, and, I have sometime thought, from
the strain of her eloquence, she had attained before we were out of hearing, that she
may have talked all night.
The soldiers in charge of us were in no hurry to return to Cleveland, for we
stopped several times during the night and did not reach town until 8 or nine
o’clock next day. The officer in charge took us to a hotel and ordered breakfast for
us, which we appreciated, after being out in the cold all night. The breakfast was
fine, such as Tennessee people always have. In the afternoon, we were delivered to
the Provost Marshal’s headquarters one mile south of town. The premises belonged
to Henry Gibbs, a very prominent gentleman and a member of the Confederate
Congress at Richmond, Virginia. The soldiers at the camp were from Indiana. As
soon as we were placed in the charge of the Provost Marshal’s command, one of the
solders came to us and said, “You boys have not had dinner, have you?” I
answered in the negative, but told him that we had, had a fine breakfast about nine
that morning and did not need dinner. He said we must have dinner, and it was not
long until dinner was ready. It consisted of almost everything our country affords.
That afternoon, the officer of the day, with a detail of 4 men, left camp and
went into the country for some purpose. I never knew why, but I asked for
permission to go with them, which he granted. My friend and fellow prisoner,
Cagle, went too. After marching about 3 miles the officer halted and we all sat
down by the side of the roadside for, perhaps 30 minutes, when we marched back to
camp. On the way back, Cagle and I fell back a few paces and the following
conversation, in substance, ensued: “Lewis, I heard the speech Catherine Jane, (his
wife) made to you last night in regard to the Yankee oath, but it is my opinion that
the best thing for us to do is to take the oath of allegiance to the U.S. Government
and get out of this trouble”. He said he would never take the oath of allegiance to
the Yankee government. I told him that I was sick and that if they sent me to prison
in the North, I would die; that I had no hope of our people ever establishing a
government; that our armies had failed to hold Cumberland Gap, and had given up
Chattanooga, Knoxville, Lookout Mountain, and Missionary Ridge. All strong
fortifications. Naturally, I said for him to think over the matter. There was nothing
said about taking the oath by either of us until sometime afterwards. He mentioned
the subject to me and said, he had thoroughly considered what I had said to him and
believed I was right, and that if I was still of the same opinion, he was ready and
willing to give up and become a citizen of the U.S. We made our wishes known at
headquarters and took the oath.
Sometime afterwards, we were transferred to Chattanooga. We were given
30 day passes and permitted to pass anywhere in the city limits. We drew rations
regularly from the commissary and had an abundance of food, but we had no
bedding. When we were taken prisoner we were rushed off without any bedding
and with only the clothes we had on our bodies. We slept in the barracks without
any bedding or fire, except at times when we would find a plank or barrel stave
which we would use for fuel.
One morning I said to Mr.Cagle, “Let’s try to get someplace to sleep where
we can get one more good nights rest.” He consented to the proposition and we set
out to find a house in which to pass the night. We searched all day without success.
A short while before sunset we walked up to a two story boarding house and called
to the proprietor, and to my surprise, an Irish man by the name Peter Connally, who
I had known in the army, answered the call. He recognized me and appeared glad
to see me. I felt encouraged thinking he would furnish us lodging for the night.
But when he made our wishes known, he informed us that the house was crowded,
that he could not give us any sort of accommodations. I left, so disappointed that I
did not ask whether he had been discharged or had deserted the cause. While
standing there talking to him, I noticed a large negro man chopping wood up on the
hill. Leaving my Irish friend, we walked up the hill to the large wood pile and
spoke the negro, calling him “Uncle,” and asked him if he could tell us where we
could find a place to sleep. He answered, “I don’t know, boss, this town is full of
soldiers. Me and my old woman live in this old cellar. You can stay with us if you
want to.” I said to him, “Do you say we can stay with you.” He answered, “Yes
boss.” I told him we would certainly stay. We told him we would go down to the
commissary but would be back soon. We went to the commissary and drew our
rations for 3 days, returning to the negros’ cellar, I turned the rations over to the
negro woman telling her we wanted super and breakfast and that she could have the
remainder for her own use. We retired early. She made our beds on the cellar
floor, using clean sheets as white as snow. I had the best nights sleep and rest I had
had in many months.
The next day I went to the Provost Marshal’s office and asked for a pass to
go back home and get our families, but he refused at first, saying that Rebels would
get us. I asked him if the R.R. was not well guarded between Chattanooga and
Cleveland and he said it was. I told him we would travel on the R.R. and would not
come in contact with the Rebel soldiers. After much importuning on my part he
gave us passes signed by General Thomas.
We left about eleven in the forenoon for my father’s, reaching there about
dark, having walked on the R.R. track 24 miles. We arrived too late for supper, but
my sister soon had a nice, warm supper prepared for us. When supper was
announced, I was almost paralyzed in my feet and had to be helped to the table.
My father and John Baty harnessed a team to a wagon and went to our house,
10 miles distant, and brought our families to us, and the next morning, carried us to
Cleveland, where we took passage on a freight train for Wartrace, Bedford county,
Tennessee.
CHAPTER V
Relating To My Masonic Life
In 1871, I joined the Masonic Lodge at Medon, West Tennessee. At that
time I was section master on the Mississippi Central Railroad. While at work one
day near Medon, a gentleman by the name of Winchester came where we were at
work and introduced himself, pointing to a large farmhouse on the hill, saying he
lived there; that he owned the farm and ask me to make a wagon crossing for him in
order that he might have a way to get to that part of the farm lying west of the
railroad. During our conversation, I ask him if he was related to Reverend Mr.
Winchester who was Chaplain of the 9th Tennessee Infantry Regiment. He
informed me that they were brothers. (Rev. Winchester was my Chaplain, a man I
liked very much as a minister.) Before we separated, he asked if I belonged to the
Masonic Lodge. I told him that I did not; that I had never lived near a Lodge; that
my father had never belonged to any secret society. He called my attention to a
brick building on a hill just south of Medon and said it was their Masonic Lodge
and said if I should decide to apply for membership, he would present my petition,
but that I could not apply until I had lived in the jurisdiction one year.
Having resided there the required time, I mentioned the matter to Mr.
Winchester and he took my petition, and in due time, I received the Blue Lodge
degrees in Medon Lodge, 166.
In 1872, I left Mississippi Central Railroad and moved to Texas, arriving at
Corsicana, Texas, January 3, 1873, and on the 4th, went to Cryer Creek where my
father, brothers, and sisters lived. The last work I did for the railroad was
conductor of a train between Water Valley, Mississippi and Jackson, Tennessee.
Soon after settling in Texas, I wrote to the Secretary of Medon Lodge for a
Dimit, which in due time, was mailed to me in Corsicana. When I received the
letter containing the Dimit and some over paid dues, it had been opened by J.L.
Miller of Corsicana. A short while afterward, I attended the Odd Fellows Lodge at
Corsicana and when the Warden passed the axe around, I placed a dollar dues on it.
When the Warden called out, “J.L. Miller dues $1.00.” At the close of the meeting
that night, brother J.L.Miller arose under the good of the order and said, in
substance, “Noble Grand, I want it distinctly understood from this time on that my
name is John L. Miller and not J.L.Miller.” After the lodge was closed, he came to
me and said he had opened my letter by mistake. He and I were the best of friends
as long as he lived. I used to take him in a buggy when I was County
Superintendent of Public Instructions of Navarro County, and have him address the
school. He was a good orator and his addresses were highly interesting.
Having received my Dimit, I affiliated with Dresden Lodge #218, at Dresden,
8 miles from where I lived. My brother, G.P. Miller, being a member of the same
lodge, would take me in his buggy to the lodge meetings. On one occasion, a
brother was placed on trial for non-payment of dues. About the time the ballot was
to be taken, I asked the presiding officer (W.M.- Worshipful Master) to have the
Secretary to inform the lodge who were entitled to a vote in the case. At that time,
a member 6 months in arrears was not eligible to vote. It developed that there was
only one member present entitled to vote. There was a recess taken and the
Secretary collected $45.00 dues in 10 minutes. The poor brother was tried and
acquitted.
My membership remained in Dresden Lodge til Cryer Creek Lodge #497 was
constituted in 1877. The officers of the new lodge were: George Levin, Worshipful
Master, T.M. Smith, Senior Warden, and myself Junior Warden. We had a
successful lodge and made a good many Masons. Our First W.M. (Worshipful
Master), Brother Levins was murdered with his boots on at Silver City and buried
with Masonic honors by some lodge in that western region. Brother Smith died in
Navarro County while serving a second term as Superintendent of Public
Instruction.
The Supreme Grand Master of the Universe, in the plenitude of His great
loving kindness, for some unknown reason, has permitted the author of this little
book, to live to this day, and pray that He may guide my downsitting and my
uprising as long as it is His will for me to sojourn upon this Mundane Shore. It is
my highest aspiration to reverence and adore His matchless name.
As before stated, I was Junior Warden of Cryer Creek Lodge #497, also
Secretary and Worshipful Master. While Worshipful Master, I attended every
meeting except one during the year I served, although I lived 35 miles from the
lodge. During that period, having moved to Wortham on January 1, 1881, I thought
if my brethren thought enough of me to elect me Master, than I should think enough
of the lodge to attend and render whatever service I could. The meeting I missed
was not intentional on my part. I started to Cryer Creek to attend the lodge and
stopped at Corsicana for dinner, and at the dinner hour there came a very heavy
rain, which lasted until 2 P.M., at which hour the lodge met. I learned afterward
that it did not rain at Cryer Creek and that the lodge meeting was held as usual.
My term in office having expired, I dimitted from Cryer Creek and affiliated
with Longbotham Lodge #428 (Wortham) of which I am at this time a member. At
the meeting in June, 1883, the brethren elected me Worshipful Master and in 1885.
I was again chosen Worshipful Master.
As previously stated, I received the Blue lodge degrees in Mendon,
Tennessee. When I came to Texas and 1873, I found that the Esoteric work in Texas
was different in some respect from the Tennessee work, especially in phraseology
verbiage. Of course, the essentials are the same in all parts of the world. Masonry
has a fascination for me that no other earthly organization has. My dear wife often
told me that I was crazy on two things – Masonry and vocal music. Having an
insatiable desire for knowledge, especially in Masonic Symbolism, I availed myself
of every opportunity to improve myself in the Ritual of Masonic lore.
My teachers in Texas were the Grand Lecturers who were elected by the
Grand Lodge. Their duty was to visit and assist the subordinate lodges in learning
the esoteric work and lectures. It was my good fortune to become acquainted with
Brother John Watson, whom was then one of the authorized lecturers. I had the
pleasure of hearing the lectures given by Brother E.L. Beaumont, Peyton Nowlin,
B.P. Freymirs, T.J. Adleman at different times and places, but Brother Watson was
my favorite instructor, and I never missed an opportunity of attending his lecture,
whenever it was possible for me to do so. He was very kind to me in every respect.
If he had an appointment to lecture the members of a lodge near me, he would invite
me to attend. On some occasions, I would meet him and carry him in my buggy
from one appointment to another, and in this way, I soon became proficient in the
Texas Ritual.
In 1886, I obtained a certificate to teach the esoteric work and lecture, but at
that time, I was engaged in public school work and could only lecture the brethren
during my summer vacation.
At the Grand Lodge in December 1887, I again applied for a certificate and
after due examination, I obtained my certificate. In 1888, I was elected a member of
the Committee on Work. The Grand Lodge elected five member to this committee,
as follows: Brothers John Watson, B.F. Trymeir, J.L. Miller, Bob Harkness and T.B.
Cockran. We drew lots for the different terms of office and it happened that each
member drew according to the number of votes he received. Brother Watson drew
the 5 year term, while I drew the 3 year term.
I had two very good friends in the Grand Lodge whom I think secured my
election to the Committee on work. One of these passed over the river to rest under
the shade of the trees, my esteemed Brother B.R. Abernathy. The other is George
W. Tyler of Belton, Texas. They both came to me a year or two before I was
elected and told me they were going to get me on the Committee. My service as a
member of the committee for 13 years was a service that afforded me a great deal of
pleasure. During this time, I was associated with brothers E.E. Douglas, C.P. Boon,
W.A. Campbell, W.M. Honnicutt, Sam R. Hamilton, E.B. Reeves, and others.
At the time we were chosen members, we were made custodians of the work
in line of the Grand lecture system.
—THE END—
Copied 9/5/40
For F.L. Miller
By O.W.A.
Copied 1/1971
By Bernice Bound Moody
Wortham, Texas
Copied 7/2008
By Terri Lynn Higgins Test
Austin, Texas
2
Autobiography of James Lafayette Miller