Hopkins County Folk Lore The Wrong Way To Find A Wife

From the Journal of William Henderson Buntin
Transcribed by Carolyn Buntin, Contributing Editor

William Henderson Buntin was my great-great-grandfather. He was born in Halifax County, VA in 1817. He arrived in Hopkins County in 1839 and died there in 1901. He lived in the Shakerag community just outside Hanson, KY

I will transcribe his words exactly as they were written, mistakes and all. I hope his story gives you a glimpse into the way some of our ancestors lived in the 1800's and the obvious fun they had in retelling the stories.

 

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In the fall of '38 my brother moved to Indiana, and I went with him, and the people hired me in their groceries, which thing I followed as long as I was there.

In '39 we moved to Hopkins County KY. And I have been here ever since.

Well in the fall of '41 I came to the conclusion that I would marry if I could get anybody, and there was a girl in the neighborhood that I had met with at a few social gathering and she had neither father, nor mother living and just in my fix---had nothing else, and concluded I would go and talk to her and if she said so, we would marry, and that quick. And the first Saturday night, after I put on the best clothes I had, and off I went and the man she lived with was an awful fox hunter, and the family treated me very pleasant, but the next morning, he jumped up and called that girls brother and asked him if he wanted to go into a fox hunt and he said yes, and he jumped up. I commenced snoring, but it did not do any good. They called me anyhow, and asked if I wanted to go on a fox hunt and I said yes, and a bigger lie I never told in my life, and they had a saddle each and they put me on a tall horse and he was 18 or 20 years old, and somewhat poor, and they give me a sheepskin to ride on. Me and the old horse got along very well until they bounced a fox, and here they went yelling and that old horse was worse than a colt, and was awkward. He would jump fences, gullies, logs and everything else, and I had to carry my sheepskin in my hand. But about 9 o'clock, the dogs lost the fox and I was glad I was not killed, and went with (blank space) back and got my breakfast, and took another look at the girl. Thinks I, you are not as good looking as I thought you was, and I will never go sparking any more where folks hunt foxes, and I never have.

  Nancy Trice, © 2000