Parents: John Pleasant Gentry (c. 1778-c. 1836) and Catherine "Kate" Gentry (b. 1778)
James's parents were first cousins, sharing a grandfather, Nicholas Gentry II, but different grandmothers.
Married Jane Elliott (1800-1880), the descendant of Scottish Presbyterian immigrants, on 26 May 1824 in Madison Co., Kentucky.
Children:
Amanda (1825-1847)
Huldah (1827-1906)
Nancy (b. 1828)
John Milton (1829-1913)
Mary Jane (1833-1836)
Thomas E. (1836-1921)
George W. (1840-1921)
The Quincy Daily Herald, Sunday, October 7, 1888, Page 6
Jas. M. Gentry, a former resident of Jacksonville, died at Butler, Bates County, Mo., Tuesday. His remains were interred at Jacksonville, Thursday.
From "The Gentry Saga" by Earnest Clarence Gentry:
James M., the eldest child of John P's ten children, is our ancestor of the fifth generation. This is the grandparent to whom I referred earlier as having spent several months with us at my father's farm near Princeton, Kansas, and from whose reminiscences I have gathered together most of the material for this story from here on. This grandfather was born Oct. 27, 1804, in Virginia, reared in Kentucky, lived most of his life in Morgan Co., Illinois, and died in 1889 at the home of his youngest son, Geo. W. Gentry, "Unk" to most of the readers of this saga, in Butler, Missouri.
I might say that Grandpa James M. Gentry was the only grandparent I ever saw, my mother's parents having died before I was born, and Grand-mother Gentry (Jane, wife of James M., or Jimmy) having died in 1880, January. It was the death of his wife that brought about Grandpa's coming to spend the following summer with us. His home broken, he had made a sale of the old homestead in Illinois and came out to Princeton to be with my father and his family. I was a lad of just nine years and the youngest of a family of eight, and as Grandpa was over 75 and rather broken up at losing Grandma, I was given the task of waiting on him and entertaining him as best I could. He liked most to tell of his early boyhood and early manhood and it made an impression on my young mind that is indelible. Grandpa recounted tales of his acquaintance with William Sevier, grandson of Gen. Jack Sevier, one of the commanders at the battle of King's Mountain. William and Grandpa were boys together in the new state of Franklin, now Tennessee, Grandpa's father John P., having come here from Surrey Co., North Carolina, then after a few years moving across into what is now West Virginia, at that time Virginia, where he became very wealthy, owning at one time nearly a hundred slaves. William Sevier later married Lucy Gentry, Grandpa's sister, and they migrated to Missouri, some of the Seviers still living in or near Butler. Grandpa told also of his early exploits in hunting and fishing, of his dealings with the Indians in his early settlement in the state of Kentucky in Madison County and other incidents.
As Grandpa was the only son who grew to manhood, he professed he became pretty wild--too much fox hunting and being waited upon by his body servant, Jimmy Dudley. By this time the slave question was growing more acute and seeing into the future his father gave all the slaves their freedom and the heads of families a cabin and a patch of ground. Grandpa was twenty years old, and as he expressed it, this raised his dander to have his father take away from him his servants, so he, Grandpa, without consulting his father married his governess, Jane Elliott, four years his senior, and prepared to migrate to the wilds of Kentucky.
And now comes the most thrilling part of this narrative. After the wedding fanfare or reception, friends and neighbors, black and white, from far and near, gathered to bid the young couple Godspeed in their new undertaking. According to Grandpa, Jane Elliott was the essence of all that is good--well-educated, of Scotch Presbyterian parentage, golden dark auburn hair, brown eyes and a soul of great understanding and love, mothering her oldest boy scholar and, on his decision to go from home, to go with him and share the rigors of frontier life. She had her own horse, Jennie, which she had ridden from house to house in her teaching as there was nothing but private schools. Grandpa had his own horse, Fan, and they were given the best brood mare, Dolly, for a pack horse--for those young folks were starting out on what the three horses could carry, including themselves. Among their possessions were their private portmanteaux or small trunks, a 150 lb. sack of wheat, all other seeds in small quantities, blankets, small brass kettles, a small supply of tools, most necessary. Grandpa told how Hiram Dudley, the darkey blacksmith, made him iron shears to go on the wooden moldboards of the plows. Imagine such an array today for a young couple starting 200 miles to make a home in the wilderness--then we can conceive of the great courage of our noble ancestors.
I should include the date of the marriage of Jimmy and Jane which was May 6, 1824. They spent most of the summer, however, at the old estate, as with the freeing of his slaves Jimmy's father was left very short of help and Jimmy's assistance was quite badly needed. So it was August before they were ready to leave. After tearful goodbyes they set forth just as the sun came up over the golden east to face their western journey.
Grandpa and young William Sevier had often taken what were called "fall hunts" from their Virginia homes far into the interior of the unknown dark and bloody grounds of Kentucky where even the Indians made no permanent settlement inside the grounds. But there was one place in Grandpa's mind that had always called to his romantic nature. It was on a little creek running into the Kentucky River, partly surrounded by high bluffs, covered by all the known trees of the American forest. Here was a small Indian cabin in bad repair. There were nearly five acres of rich bottom land used by the squaws for garden and corn. Some peach trees still struggled from long neglect but bore the choicest of fruit. Hither then was their destination.
I can recall only a few of the details of the journey but the one thing that impressed me most was that at their first camp at night Grandpa asked Grandma if she would rather go back and she quoted from the Bible that there was no looking back, that God was just as close to them wherever they were.
This was the last week of August. Deer were not prime but he shot one anyway when their provisions ran low, but he said he had to feed most of it to the dogs. Of course he brought along Molly from his fox hound kennels and old True from the trailers. He wouldn't have been a Gentry without a dog.
After over a month of very slow travel, on account of the heavy packs, they came at last to the bubbling spring at the foot of the cliff, just below the nearly wrecked cabin.
After a good night's rest, Grandpa began to fix up the cabin, but Jane said, "No, Jimmy, fix up your plow while I clear the weeds from the land." So he hunted the right shaped tree for a moldboard and a crooked sapling for handles. Then he attached the steel shear Hiram Dudley had made for him. It took him three days and by that time the horses were well rested and filled out on bluegrass. He fashioned harness from the pack ropes. Then he made a harrow from a young tree that took on the shape of an A, later called A harrows.
So after a week's work of plowing and harrowing, he had about three acres ready to take to the 150 lb. of wheat seed. It was real late, but it was the best they could do and that night after the planting they asked God to bless their efforts. But it was very dry and as they fixed the cabin and got ready for winter they nearly despaired of their wheat. It just started very small needle-like sprouts but never came up before the snow covered it.
After the cabin was made as good as possible, he lay in his winter's meat: deer, nice and fat by now, wild turkey which was all drawn and suspended high in a tree by the same ropes that served for harness.
Now a trip to the nearest fort for some things not to be done without, like powder, lead and other indispensible articles. Their nearest neighbor was about twenty miles, a Scotch-Canadian, named McClain. He came and looked after things while they made the trip to the Fort, forty-five miles away. They rode their own horses and were gone overnight, staying at the Fort and coming back the next day.
The winter was uneventful only for one thing. Sometime in February, while Grandpa was out hunting, a party of about 25 Indians came trapesing in from the north, having seen smoke coming from the new stick-and-clay chimney. They were hungry and Grandma fed them what was on hand. The chief had her take down her long golden braids of hair and each Indian rubbed and stroked her golden locks, then held up the open palm of their hands in token of wonder and admiration. Nearing home, Grandpa ran across the trail of the Indians and as it led toward the cabin he exercised all his caution, fearing he had committed an awful mistake and expecting the worst. Everything seemed to be allright, the smoke came out of the cabin, the horses dozed in the sun by the cliff, but he was not certain he heard Grandma's clear sweet voice singing one of her old psalms of what a protection was God of his children. His joy was so great that he blamed himself for leaving her for so long, but she only said, "Jimmy, it's maybe best you were not here as they may have resented a show of force."
Late in March a foot of snow fell and after it had laid a day or two he had to make a trip to Mr. McClain's for some things got at the Fort. It was a long trip, 40 miles round trip in slushy snow and it was late, nearly ten o' clock when he got home. It was raining and he was so dog-tired he went right off to sleep after he had something to eat and slept late. In the morning the ground was all bare of snow, spring-like and balmy. The door opened to the east on the wheat field, the sun's rays reflected the tiny white sprouts of wheat, a wonderful stand. The snow had just acted like a coverlet and the warm earth had done the rest. O what happy, happy hearts were raised in praise to God for such blessing for so much depended on the wheat for sustenance.
In the spring a family of six came to be closer neighbors, lower down on the creek, about four miles, and by Fall another family moved in closer yet. In the same Fall Jane and Jimmy's first girl baby was born--Aunt Amanda, Sept. 10, 1825, the first of three girls, the others being Aunt Huldah, June 3, 1827, and Aunt Nancy, Nov., 11, 1828. The fourth child was my father, John Milton, Dec. 10, 1829, of whom the historical sketch was made of his early settlement in Franklin Co., Kansas. This was all of the children born in Kentucky, the other two boys, Thomas E., Mar. 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840, having been born in Morgan Co., Ill., as Grandpa sold out his Kentucky homestead and moved to Illinois shortly after my father's birth.
Now, before going on to the later part of the Saga, I can recount some of the things that happened while the family was still in Kentucky.
Soon a new log house was in use and the old one used for a barn. The three mares all brought colts in the spring, and Grandpa soon had a fine string of the Morgan strain, notable in Kentucky. He was also adept with bees and soon had dozens of stands of bees captured in the woods and domesticated.
Roving bands of Indians camped on the creek below as the old cabin seemed to be a stopping place on migratory and hunting excursions. On one occasion a band had camped about a quarter of a mile below and the Indian men had all gone hunting, leaving the squaws and the children in camp which was close to a riffle and deep hole, a favorite spot to fish.
So one morning before sunrise, having dug his grubworms the night before, Grandpa went down to the riffle opposite the Indian camp thinking it favorable for perch to bite. He took his stand and soon had a nice string of 14 perch. The women all watched, the children being asleep yet. He now rolled up his line and left, but after passing out of sight he looked back to see an old squaw come down and cast in right where he had got his fish. But he said she never got a bite for, as he figured, he had caught the entire school and others would be later in the day coming up the creek.
Hunting deer was one of his favorite sports. Ranging down the creek, near the Kentucky river which was rather swampy, deer started by the dogs naturally took to the swamps to throw the dogs off the trail. So Grandpa would take a stand in a choice location and wait for the hounds to bring them within rifle shot. Sometimes they would circle around as many as four or five times before being successful.
On one of these occasions of an early morning he was making a stand in a swamp nearly knee deep in slime and water, and the deer seemed to scent him and took long circles, but always came back to the water. All at once he heard an awful chattering and squawking, the like of which he had never heard before; so he proceeded to investigate. He found, on approaching the racket, a pair of wood ducks with their young nestlings about four feet above water. These ducks are small but have beautifully colored plumage with scarlet red heads, and have their nests above the water.
Now Grandpa watched, and the daddy duck would pluck a little duck out of the nest by the top-knot and drop it in the water, teaching it to swim. And the old mother duck hovered over it, making most of the noise and eventually lifted it back into the nest by the same process, namely by grabbing it by the top-knot and lifting it up into the nest. In this manner all the little ducks got their swimming lessons. On close examination, Grandfather found the nest was full of clutter; so he made the adept illustration to me of how we must all be thrown out on the world of life's cares and responsibilities, in other words, leave the home nest, father leading the way and mother exercising all the cares and worry for young fledglings. He even confessed his own weakness as a spoiled boy, said his father had wisely freed the slaves and placed him on his own responsibilities and made a real man of him.
I can't remember much of the experience in Kentucky, only the county seat of Madison Co. was Richmond, and it was somewhere on this creek that he settled.
They had one real Indian uprising. The scattered settlers retired to the Fort--I think Ft. Herrod. Now, being cooped up did not agree with Grandpa, so he resolved to visit his extra horses, not being able to take all to the fort in the hurry. He had hid some in a cave with some other treasured things. Getting a permit from the Fort commandant, he started out one evening and traveled on foot all night, exercising every precaution, and reaching his hidden horses and other treasures.
Having replenished the provender for the horses, he became bold and started back to the Fort just after noon, knowing he was taking a risk. He was just thinking how lucky he was that dusk was coming on and he within four or five mile of the Fort, when he discovered in the trail just ahead of him a beautiful necklace of all-colored beads. Quick as a flash he perceived the ruse and, grasping his rifle, jumped clear over the necklace, running at top speed to the tune of crackling rifle fire, bullets whizzing by and some cutting his buckskin clothes. Indians, being notoriously bad shots, had put the necklace in his path supposing he would stop to pick it up and they would have an easy mark to shoot at. But our forefathers were so highly sensitive to the dangers in time of Indian trouble that it seems they were inspired and made keen of wit by the very dangers they experienced. Having run what seemed to him miles, and as dusk was coming on and the Fort so near, he slowed up and soon met Haydon with his hounds making the evening rounds of the Fort to make sure that no Indian deviltry was about.
It seems that this last uprising was caused by the encroachments of white on Indian claims, disregarding the state treaty. And as Grandpa was sure he could never get a clear title to his much loved home, he wisely sold out his improvements to the Indian agent, taking along with him to Illinois his beloved string of horses. After having sold one span to the Fort, he had enough left to draw one heavy wagon and one light wagon with all his earthly possessions.
Taking a claim of what is called Buck Horn Prairie, five miles south of the present site of Jacksonville, Illinois, the family effected their removal from Kentucky to Illinois with all their belongings. These included a heavy wagon filled with what was really necessary, and a light wagon carrying the children of whom there were four: Amanda, Huldah, Nancy, and John Milton. This wagon also contained the camp equipage, Grandma being the driver, Grandpa driving the heavy wagon of the Conestoga pattern. The light wagon he made himself, except the wheels which he had made at Boonville. He said it was the only wagon he ever made, but it must have been good as the rear wheels were used on a manure cart that sold at his sale in 1880, and this was in 1830.
It took about two months to make the trip. They crossed the Ohio river at Paducah, Ky. on a ferry boat, followed down the river to Cairo, up the Mississippi to St. Louis, thence to the Mauvestaire river in Illinois and to the home of Henry Davenport, a former acquaintance, who helped him locate his claim on what was known as the Buck Horn Prairie on Little Sandy Creek.
Now I would stop to say that here began a very close intimacy of the two families as my father married the youngest girl of the family and the two of the Davenport boys married two of the Gentry girls, namely Uncle John Davenport to Nancy Gentry, Oct. 7, 1846, Milton Davenport to Huldah Gentry Oct. 6, 1842, John M. Gentry to Angeline Davenport Nov. 17, 1853. Now, that's quite a mix-up. These weddings were strictly family affairs, with some closely related folk, as there were other Davenport families in and around Jacksonville and the neighboring locality. On each occasion when the wedding was at the Gentry's, home of the bride, Grandpa Davenport would boast of making off with one of his girls, which always chagrined Grandpa Gentry, but on the occasion of invading the Davenport home and making off with the only remaining girl he said he turned the tables and they agreed to call it quits.
Now in regards to many of the incidents relating to the settlement of Grandpa on Little Sandy Creek--a church was soon built, called the Little Sandy baptist church, of the Southern Baptist organization, but the old union church, to which the Davenports belonged, was of the Free Will persuasion. From my mother's account, her father, Henry Davenport, was a country lawyer, lay preacher, teacher, as well as farmer,--the leading spirit of his church--while our Grandma Gentry was the teacher and spiritual leader of her church. About this time the great missionary movement in America among all denominations his the Baptist church, north and south.
Here on the old Gentry homestead were born Thomas E., March 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840--"Unk," as we all knew him, calling himself a Hallowe'en youngster, hence always joking and pulling stunts, remembered by the most of our father's 48 grandchildren as he made his home with father after losing his first wife and again after the loss of his second wife.
Now came on growing families from these unions. This was Civil War time and strange as it may seem all three boy of Grandpa's served in the Union army. My father, Because of a large family of small children and because he had lost all of his upper teeth and therefor was unable to bite off the brass rim on the old Springfield shell, ammunition for that arm adopted by the Northern Army, was exempted except for guard duty and served as a prison guard at Springfield, Ill., never leaving the state. Uncle George entered the service in 1864 as a regular soldier but saw no active service, acting as a guard at Camp Butler, at St. Louis, Mo., for the entire period of the war. Uncle Tom saw active service all through the western campaign as a cavalry sergeant under Col. Pleasonton. Was in the battle of Westport, Prairie Grove, Wilson Creek, and in fact all of the battles following the Price raid in western Missouri and eastern Kansas, coming through without a scratch. He also served one year as patrol at Edgerton, Kansas, at that time only an Indian Agency for the Osage and Kansas or Kaw Indians. The Kaw chief's name was Edgerton, so the town holds the name yet.
None of the Davenport's served on either side. However, David Moore, who married Mother's only sister, Aunt Polly Ann, was the first soldier of Morgan Co., Ill., to lose his life. This occurred at the battle of Shiloh.
Two of Grandpa's girls--Aunt Huldah and Aunt Amanda--were school teachers. Both married Baptist preachers, as related,--Aunt Huldah to Milton Davenport who served for years at Pisgah church--Aunt Amanda to Commodore Perry Johnson, also a preacher and from a family of preachers. I have heard him preach--also three of his brothers, namely Uncle Jack, Uncle John and Uncle Jona.
Having begun a summary, I will finish it as time and space are limited. Of this great array of descendants from only one child of Grandpa James M. Gentry who came out of Virginia to Kentucky, imagine the number and extent of the rest of the other six children--veritably a multitude--and as stated before accounts for the rapid growth of our wonderful country. Grown from a few small colonies when our first soldier-ancestors came over from England to a nation first in influence in a world of nations, populated by a wonderful American Race of 130,000,000 people, ours only one of the countless thousands of families helping swell the ranks of people thirsty for liberty which after all is the secret of the phenominal growth of our nation. Would now disgress from one of St. Paul's epistles: "Now where the spirit of God is, there is liberty;" and if we hold fast to that faith, we may expect great things of our beloved American United States.
Now to any and all of the descendants can say that Grandpa James M. Gentry passed away in 1889 and was laid beside Grandma in the old little Sandy graveyard on his early Illinois homestead, owned now by Mr. Mandeville. The graveyard is now very well kept up, but Ralph Gentry says that on one of his visits back to Illinois he worked with grass hook and scythe and straightened up some of the headstones, but he said it was in fairly good shape.
James's parents were first cousins, sharing a grandfather, Nicholas Gentry II, but different grandmothers.
Married Jane Elliott (1800-1880), the descendant of Scottish Presbyterian immigrants, on 26 May 1824 in Madison Co., Kentucky.
Children:
Amanda (1825-1847)
Huldah (1827-1906)
Nancy (b. 1828)
John Milton (1829-1913)
Mary Jane (1833-1836)
Thomas E. (1836-1921)
George W. (1840-1921)
The Quincy Daily Herald, Sunday, October 7, 1888, Page 6
Jas. M. Gentry, a former resident of Jacksonville, died at Butler, Bates County, Mo., Tuesday. His remains were interred at Jacksonville, Thursday.
From "The Gentry Saga" by Earnest Clarence Gentry:
James M., the eldest child of John P's ten children, is our ancestor of the fifth generation. This is the grandparent to whom I referred earlier as having spent several months with us at my father's farm near Princeton, Kansas, and from whose reminiscences I have gathered together most of the material for this story from here on. This grandfather was born Oct. 27, 1804, in Virginia, reared in Kentucky, lived most of his life in Morgan Co., Illinois, and died in 1889 at the home of his youngest son, Geo. W. Gentry, "Unk" to most of the readers of this saga, in Butler, Missouri.
I might say that Grandpa James M. Gentry was the only grandparent I ever saw, my mother's parents having died before I was born, and Grand-mother Gentry (Jane, wife of James M., or Jimmy) having died in 1880, January. It was the death of his wife that brought about Grandpa's coming to spend the following summer with us. His home broken, he had made a sale of the old homestead in Illinois and came out to Princeton to be with my father and his family. I was a lad of just nine years and the youngest of a family of eight, and as Grandpa was over 75 and rather broken up at losing Grandma, I was given the task of waiting on him and entertaining him as best I could. He liked most to tell of his early boyhood and early manhood and it made an impression on my young mind that is indelible. Grandpa recounted tales of his acquaintance with William Sevier, grandson of Gen. Jack Sevier, one of the commanders at the battle of King's Mountain. William and Grandpa were boys together in the new state of Franklin, now Tennessee, Grandpa's father John P., having come here from Surrey Co., North Carolina, then after a few years moving across into what is now West Virginia, at that time Virginia, where he became very wealthy, owning at one time nearly a hundred slaves. William Sevier later married Lucy Gentry, Grandpa's sister, and they migrated to Missouri, some of the Seviers still living in or near Butler. Grandpa told also of his early exploits in hunting and fishing, of his dealings with the Indians in his early settlement in the state of Kentucky in Madison County and other incidents.
As Grandpa was the only son who grew to manhood, he professed he became pretty wild--too much fox hunting and being waited upon by his body servant, Jimmy Dudley. By this time the slave question was growing more acute and seeing into the future his father gave all the slaves their freedom and the heads of families a cabin and a patch of ground. Grandpa was twenty years old, and as he expressed it, this raised his dander to have his father take away from him his servants, so he, Grandpa, without consulting his father married his governess, Jane Elliott, four years his senior, and prepared to migrate to the wilds of Kentucky.
And now comes the most thrilling part of this narrative. After the wedding fanfare or reception, friends and neighbors, black and white, from far and near, gathered to bid the young couple Godspeed in their new undertaking. According to Grandpa, Jane Elliott was the essence of all that is good--well-educated, of Scotch Presbyterian parentage, golden dark auburn hair, brown eyes and a soul of great understanding and love, mothering her oldest boy scholar and, on his decision to go from home, to go with him and share the rigors of frontier life. She had her own horse, Jennie, which she had ridden from house to house in her teaching as there was nothing but private schools. Grandpa had his own horse, Fan, and they were given the best brood mare, Dolly, for a pack horse--for those young folks were starting out on what the three horses could carry, including themselves. Among their possessions were their private portmanteaux or small trunks, a 150 lb. sack of wheat, all other seeds in small quantities, blankets, small brass kettles, a small supply of tools, most necessary. Grandpa told how Hiram Dudley, the darkey blacksmith, made him iron shears to go on the wooden moldboards of the plows. Imagine such an array today for a young couple starting 200 miles to make a home in the wilderness--then we can conceive of the great courage of our noble ancestors.
I should include the date of the marriage of Jimmy and Jane which was May 6, 1824. They spent most of the summer, however, at the old estate, as with the freeing of his slaves Jimmy's father was left very short of help and Jimmy's assistance was quite badly needed. So it was August before they were ready to leave. After tearful goodbyes they set forth just as the sun came up over the golden east to face their western journey.
Grandpa and young William Sevier had often taken what were called "fall hunts" from their Virginia homes far into the interior of the unknown dark and bloody grounds of Kentucky where even the Indians made no permanent settlement inside the grounds. But there was one place in Grandpa's mind that had always called to his romantic nature. It was on a little creek running into the Kentucky River, partly surrounded by high bluffs, covered by all the known trees of the American forest. Here was a small Indian cabin in bad repair. There were nearly five acres of rich bottom land used by the squaws for garden and corn. Some peach trees still struggled from long neglect but bore the choicest of fruit. Hither then was their destination.
I can recall only a few of the details of the journey but the one thing that impressed me most was that at their first camp at night Grandpa asked Grandma if she would rather go back and she quoted from the Bible that there was no looking back, that God was just as close to them wherever they were.
This was the last week of August. Deer were not prime but he shot one anyway when their provisions ran low, but he said he had to feed most of it to the dogs. Of course he brought along Molly from his fox hound kennels and old True from the trailers. He wouldn't have been a Gentry without a dog.
After over a month of very slow travel, on account of the heavy packs, they came at last to the bubbling spring at the foot of the cliff, just below the nearly wrecked cabin.
After a good night's rest, Grandpa began to fix up the cabin, but Jane said, "No, Jimmy, fix up your plow while I clear the weeds from the land." So he hunted the right shaped tree for a moldboard and a crooked sapling for handles. Then he attached the steel shear Hiram Dudley had made for him. It took him three days and by that time the horses were well rested and filled out on bluegrass. He fashioned harness from the pack ropes. Then he made a harrow from a young tree that took on the shape of an A, later called A harrows.
So after a week's work of plowing and harrowing, he had about three acres ready to take to the 150 lb. of wheat seed. It was real late, but it was the best they could do and that night after the planting they asked God to bless their efforts. But it was very dry and as they fixed the cabin and got ready for winter they nearly despaired of their wheat. It just started very small needle-like sprouts but never came up before the snow covered it.
After the cabin was made as good as possible, he lay in his winter's meat: deer, nice and fat by now, wild turkey which was all drawn and suspended high in a tree by the same ropes that served for harness.
Now a trip to the nearest fort for some things not to be done without, like powder, lead and other indispensible articles. Their nearest neighbor was about twenty miles, a Scotch-Canadian, named McClain. He came and looked after things while they made the trip to the Fort, forty-five miles away. They rode their own horses and were gone overnight, staying at the Fort and coming back the next day.
The winter was uneventful only for one thing. Sometime in February, while Grandpa was out hunting, a party of about 25 Indians came trapesing in from the north, having seen smoke coming from the new stick-and-clay chimney. They were hungry and Grandma fed them what was on hand. The chief had her take down her long golden braids of hair and each Indian rubbed and stroked her golden locks, then held up the open palm of their hands in token of wonder and admiration. Nearing home, Grandpa ran across the trail of the Indians and as it led toward the cabin he exercised all his caution, fearing he had committed an awful mistake and expecting the worst. Everything seemed to be allright, the smoke came out of the cabin, the horses dozed in the sun by the cliff, but he was not certain he heard Grandma's clear sweet voice singing one of her old psalms of what a protection was God of his children. His joy was so great that he blamed himself for leaving her for so long, but she only said, "Jimmy, it's maybe best you were not here as they may have resented a show of force."
Late in March a foot of snow fell and after it had laid a day or two he had to make a trip to Mr. McClain's for some things got at the Fort. It was a long trip, 40 miles round trip in slushy snow and it was late, nearly ten o' clock when he got home. It was raining and he was so dog-tired he went right off to sleep after he had something to eat and slept late. In the morning the ground was all bare of snow, spring-like and balmy. The door opened to the east on the wheat field, the sun's rays reflected the tiny white sprouts of wheat, a wonderful stand. The snow had just acted like a coverlet and the warm earth had done the rest. O what happy, happy hearts were raised in praise to God for such blessing for so much depended on the wheat for sustenance.
In the spring a family of six came to be closer neighbors, lower down on the creek, about four miles, and by Fall another family moved in closer yet. In the same Fall Jane and Jimmy's first girl baby was born--Aunt Amanda, Sept. 10, 1825, the first of three girls, the others being Aunt Huldah, June 3, 1827, and Aunt Nancy, Nov., 11, 1828. The fourth child was my father, John Milton, Dec. 10, 1829, of whom the historical sketch was made of his early settlement in Franklin Co., Kansas. This was all of the children born in Kentucky, the other two boys, Thomas E., Mar. 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840, having been born in Morgan Co., Ill., as Grandpa sold out his Kentucky homestead and moved to Illinois shortly after my father's birth.
Now, before going on to the later part of the Saga, I can recount some of the things that happened while the family was still in Kentucky.
Soon a new log house was in use and the old one used for a barn. The three mares all brought colts in the spring, and Grandpa soon had a fine string of the Morgan strain, notable in Kentucky. He was also adept with bees and soon had dozens of stands of bees captured in the woods and domesticated.
Roving bands of Indians camped on the creek below as the old cabin seemed to be a stopping place on migratory and hunting excursions. On one occasion a band had camped about a quarter of a mile below and the Indian men had all gone hunting, leaving the squaws and the children in camp which was close to a riffle and deep hole, a favorite spot to fish.
So one morning before sunrise, having dug his grubworms the night before, Grandpa went down to the riffle opposite the Indian camp thinking it favorable for perch to bite. He took his stand and soon had a nice string of 14 perch. The women all watched, the children being asleep yet. He now rolled up his line and left, but after passing out of sight he looked back to see an old squaw come down and cast in right where he had got his fish. But he said she never got a bite for, as he figured, he had caught the entire school and others would be later in the day coming up the creek.
Hunting deer was one of his favorite sports. Ranging down the creek, near the Kentucky river which was rather swampy, deer started by the dogs naturally took to the swamps to throw the dogs off the trail. So Grandpa would take a stand in a choice location and wait for the hounds to bring them within rifle shot. Sometimes they would circle around as many as four or five times before being successful.
On one of these occasions of an early morning he was making a stand in a swamp nearly knee deep in slime and water, and the deer seemed to scent him and took long circles, but always came back to the water. All at once he heard an awful chattering and squawking, the like of which he had never heard before; so he proceeded to investigate. He found, on approaching the racket, a pair of wood ducks with their young nestlings about four feet above water. These ducks are small but have beautifully colored plumage with scarlet red heads, and have their nests above the water.
Now Grandpa watched, and the daddy duck would pluck a little duck out of the nest by the top-knot and drop it in the water, teaching it to swim. And the old mother duck hovered over it, making most of the noise and eventually lifted it back into the nest by the same process, namely by grabbing it by the top-knot and lifting it up into the nest. In this manner all the little ducks got their swimming lessons. On close examination, Grandfather found the nest was full of clutter; so he made the adept illustration to me of how we must all be thrown out on the world of life's cares and responsibilities, in other words, leave the home nest, father leading the way and mother exercising all the cares and worry for young fledglings. He even confessed his own weakness as a spoiled boy, said his father had wisely freed the slaves and placed him on his own responsibilities and made a real man of him.
I can't remember much of the experience in Kentucky, only the county seat of Madison Co. was Richmond, and it was somewhere on this creek that he settled.
They had one real Indian uprising. The scattered settlers retired to the Fort--I think Ft. Herrod. Now, being cooped up did not agree with Grandpa, so he resolved to visit his extra horses, not being able to take all to the fort in the hurry. He had hid some in a cave with some other treasured things. Getting a permit from the Fort commandant, he started out one evening and traveled on foot all night, exercising every precaution, and reaching his hidden horses and other treasures.
Having replenished the provender for the horses, he became bold and started back to the Fort just after noon, knowing he was taking a risk. He was just thinking how lucky he was that dusk was coming on and he within four or five mile of the Fort, when he discovered in the trail just ahead of him a beautiful necklace of all-colored beads. Quick as a flash he perceived the ruse and, grasping his rifle, jumped clear over the necklace, running at top speed to the tune of crackling rifle fire, bullets whizzing by and some cutting his buckskin clothes. Indians, being notoriously bad shots, had put the necklace in his path supposing he would stop to pick it up and they would have an easy mark to shoot at. But our forefathers were so highly sensitive to the dangers in time of Indian trouble that it seems they were inspired and made keen of wit by the very dangers they experienced. Having run what seemed to him miles, and as dusk was coming on and the Fort so near, he slowed up and soon met Haydon with his hounds making the evening rounds of the Fort to make sure that no Indian deviltry was about.
It seems that this last uprising was caused by the encroachments of white on Indian claims, disregarding the state treaty. And as Grandpa was sure he could never get a clear title to his much loved home, he wisely sold out his improvements to the Indian agent, taking along with him to Illinois his beloved string of horses. After having sold one span to the Fort, he had enough left to draw one heavy wagon and one light wagon with all his earthly possessions.
Taking a claim of what is called Buck Horn Prairie, five miles south of the present site of Jacksonville, Illinois, the family effected their removal from Kentucky to Illinois with all their belongings. These included a heavy wagon filled with what was really necessary, and a light wagon carrying the children of whom there were four: Amanda, Huldah, Nancy, and John Milton. This wagon also contained the camp equipage, Grandma being the driver, Grandpa driving the heavy wagon of the Conestoga pattern. The light wagon he made himself, except the wheels which he had made at Boonville. He said it was the only wagon he ever made, but it must have been good as the rear wheels were used on a manure cart that sold at his sale in 1880, and this was in 1830.
It took about two months to make the trip. They crossed the Ohio river at Paducah, Ky. on a ferry boat, followed down the river to Cairo, up the Mississippi to St. Louis, thence to the Mauvestaire river in Illinois and to the home of Henry Davenport, a former acquaintance, who helped him locate his claim on what was known as the Buck Horn Prairie on Little Sandy Creek.
Now I would stop to say that here began a very close intimacy of the two families as my father married the youngest girl of the family and the two of the Davenport boys married two of the Gentry girls, namely Uncle John Davenport to Nancy Gentry, Oct. 7, 1846, Milton Davenport to Huldah Gentry Oct. 6, 1842, John M. Gentry to Angeline Davenport Nov. 17, 1853. Now, that's quite a mix-up. These weddings were strictly family affairs, with some closely related folk, as there were other Davenport families in and around Jacksonville and the neighboring locality. On each occasion when the wedding was at the Gentry's, home of the bride, Grandpa Davenport would boast of making off with one of his girls, which always chagrined Grandpa Gentry, but on the occasion of invading the Davenport home and making off with the only remaining girl he said he turned the tables and they agreed to call it quits.
Now in regards to many of the incidents relating to the settlement of Grandpa on Little Sandy Creek--a church was soon built, called the Little Sandy baptist church, of the Southern Baptist organization, but the old union church, to which the Davenports belonged, was of the Free Will persuasion. From my mother's account, her father, Henry Davenport, was a country lawyer, lay preacher, teacher, as well as farmer,--the leading spirit of his church--while our Grandma Gentry was the teacher and spiritual leader of her church. About this time the great missionary movement in America among all denominations his the Baptist church, north and south.
Here on the old Gentry homestead were born Thomas E., March 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840--"Unk," as we all knew him, calling himself a Hallowe'en youngster, hence always joking and pulling stunts, remembered by the most of our father's 48 grandchildren as he made his home with father after losing his first wife and again after the loss of his second wife.
Now came on growing families from these unions. This was Civil War time and strange as it may seem all three boy of Grandpa's served in the Union army. My father, Because of a large family of small children and because he had lost all of his upper teeth and therefor was unable to bite off the brass rim on the old Springfield shell, ammunition for that arm adopted by the Northern Army, was exempted except for guard duty and served as a prison guard at Springfield, Ill., never leaving the state. Uncle George entered the service in 1864 as a regular soldier but saw no active service, acting as a guard at Camp Butler, at St. Louis, Mo., for the entire period of the war. Uncle Tom saw active service all through the western campaign as a cavalry sergeant under Col. Pleasonton. Was in the battle of Westport, Prairie Grove, Wilson Creek, and in fact all of the battles following the Price raid in western Missouri and eastern Kansas, coming through without a scratch. He also served one year as patrol at Edgerton, Kansas, at that time only an Indian Agency for the Osage and Kansas or Kaw Indians. The Kaw chief's name was Edgerton, so the town holds the name yet.
None of the Davenport's served on either side. However, David Moore, who married Mother's only sister, Aunt Polly Ann, was the first soldier of Morgan Co., Ill., to lose his life. This occurred at the battle of Shiloh.
Two of Grandpa's girls--Aunt Huldah and Aunt Amanda--were school teachers. Both married Baptist preachers, as related,--Aunt Huldah to Milton Davenport who served for years at Pisgah church--Aunt Amanda to Commodore Perry Johnson, also a preacher and from a family of preachers. I have heard him preach--also three of his brothers, namely Uncle Jack, Uncle John and Uncle Jona.
Having begun a summary, I will finish it as time and space are limited. Of this great array of descendants from only one child of Grandpa James M. Gentry who came out of Virginia to Kentucky, imagine the number and extent of the rest of the other six children--veritably a multitude--and as stated before accounts for the rapid growth of our wonderful country. Grown from a few small colonies when our first soldier-ancestors came over from England to a nation first in influence in a world of nations, populated by a wonderful American Race of 130,000,000 people, ours only one of the countless thousands of families helping swell the ranks of people thirsty for liberty which after all is the secret of the phenominal growth of our nation. Would now disgress from one of St. Paul's epistles: "Now where the spirit of God is, there is liberty;" and if we hold fast to that faith, we may expect great things of our beloved American United States.
Now to any and all of the descendants can say that Grandpa James M. Gentry passed away in 1889 and was laid beside Grandma in the old little Sandy graveyard on his early Illinois homestead, owned now by Mr. Mandeville. The graveyard is now very well kept up, but Ralph Gentry says that on one of his visits back to Illinois he worked with grass hook and scythe and straightened up some of the headstones, but he said it was in fairly good shape.
Parents: John Pleasant Gentry (c. 1778-c. 1836) and Catherine "Kate" Gentry (b. 1778)
James's parents were first cousins, sharing a grandfather, Nicholas Gentry II, but different grandmothers.
Married Jane Elliott (1800-1880), the descendant of Scottish Presbyterian immigrants, on 26 May 1824 in Madison Co., Kentucky.
Children:
Amanda (1825-1847)
Huldah (1827-1906)
Nancy (b. 1828)
John Milton (1829-1913)
Mary Jane (1833-1836)
Thomas E. (1836-1921)
George W. (1840-1921)
The Quincy Daily Herald, Sunday, October 7, 1888, Page 6
Jas. M. Gentry, a former resident of Jacksonville, died at Butler, Bates County, Mo., Tuesday. His remains were interred at Jacksonville, Thursday.
From "The Gentry Saga" by Earnest Clarence Gentry:
James M., the eldest child of John P's ten children, is our ancestor of the fifth generation. This is the grandparent to whom I referred earlier as having spent several months with us at my father's farm near Princeton, Kansas, and from whose reminiscences I have gathered together most of the material for this story from here on. This grandfather was born Oct. 27, 1804, in Virginia, reared in Kentucky, lived most of his life in Morgan Co., Illinois, and died in 1889 at the home of his youngest son, Geo. W. Gentry, "Unk" to most of the readers of this saga, in Butler, Missouri.
I might say that Grandpa James M. Gentry was the only grandparent I ever saw, my mother's parents having died before I was born, and Grand-mother Gentry (Jane, wife of James M., or Jimmy) having died in 1880, January. It was the death of his wife that brought about Grandpa's coming to spend the following summer with us. His home broken, he had made a sale of the old homestead in Illinois and came out to Princeton to be with my father and his family. I was a lad of just nine years and the youngest of a family of eight, and as Grandpa was over 75 and rather broken up at losing Grandma, I was given the task of waiting on him and entertaining him as best I could. He liked most to tell of his early boyhood and early manhood and it made an impression on my young mind that is indelible. Grandpa recounted tales of his acquaintance with William Sevier, grandson of Gen. Jack Sevier, one of the commanders at the battle of King's Mountain. William and Grandpa were boys together in the new state of Franklin, now Tennessee, Grandpa's father John P., having come here from Surrey Co., North Carolina, then after a few years moving across into what is now West Virginia, at that time Virginia, where he became very wealthy, owning at one time nearly a hundred slaves. William Sevier later married Lucy Gentry, Grandpa's sister, and they migrated to Missouri, some of the Seviers still living in or near Butler. Grandpa told also of his early exploits in hunting and fishing, of his dealings with the Indians in his early settlement in the state of Kentucky in Madison County and other incidents.
As Grandpa was the only son who grew to manhood, he professed he became pretty wild--too much fox hunting and being waited upon by his body servant, Jimmy Dudley. By this time the slave question was growing more acute and seeing into the future his father gave all the slaves their freedom and the heads of families a cabin and a patch of ground. Grandpa was twenty years old, and as he expressed it, this raised his dander to have his father take away from him his servants, so he, Grandpa, without consulting his father married his governess, Jane Elliott, four years his senior, and prepared to migrate to the wilds of Kentucky.
And now comes the most thrilling part of this narrative. After the wedding fanfare or reception, friends and neighbors, black and white, from far and near, gathered to bid the young couple Godspeed in their new undertaking. According to Grandpa, Jane Elliott was the essence of all that is good--well-educated, of Scotch Presbyterian parentage, golden dark auburn hair, brown eyes and a soul of great understanding and love, mothering her oldest boy scholar and, on his decision to go from home, to go with him and share the rigors of frontier life. She had her own horse, Jennie, which she had ridden from house to house in her teaching as there was nothing but private schools. Grandpa had his own horse, Fan, and they were given the best brood mare, Dolly, for a pack horse--for those young folks were starting out on what the three horses could carry, including themselves. Among their possessions were their private portmanteaux or small trunks, a 150 lb. sack of wheat, all other seeds in small quantities, blankets, small brass kettles, a small supply of tools, most necessary. Grandpa told how Hiram Dudley, the darkey blacksmith, made him iron shears to go on the wooden moldboards of the plows. Imagine such an array today for a young couple starting 200 miles to make a home in the wilderness--then we can conceive of the great courage of our noble ancestors.
I should include the date of the marriage of Jimmy and Jane which was May 6, 1824. They spent most of the summer, however, at the old estate, as with the freeing of his slaves Jimmy's father was left very short of help and Jimmy's assistance was quite badly needed. So it was August before they were ready to leave. After tearful goodbyes they set forth just as the sun came up over the golden east to face their western journey.
Grandpa and young William Sevier had often taken what were called "fall hunts" from their Virginia homes far into the interior of the unknown dark and bloody grounds of Kentucky where even the Indians made no permanent settlement inside the grounds. But there was one place in Grandpa's mind that had always called to his romantic nature. It was on a little creek running into the Kentucky River, partly surrounded by high bluffs, covered by all the known trees of the American forest. Here was a small Indian cabin in bad repair. There were nearly five acres of rich bottom land used by the squaws for garden and corn. Some peach trees still struggled from long neglect but bore the choicest of fruit. Hither then was their destination.
I can recall only a few of the details of the journey but the one thing that impressed me most was that at their first camp at night Grandpa asked Grandma if she would rather go back and she quoted from the Bible that there was no looking back, that God was just as close to them wherever they were.
This was the last week of August. Deer were not prime but he shot one anyway when their provisions ran low, but he said he had to feed most of it to the dogs. Of course he brought along Molly from his fox hound kennels and old True from the trailers. He wouldn't have been a Gentry without a dog.
After over a month of very slow travel, on account of the heavy packs, they came at last to the bubbling spring at the foot of the cliff, just below the nearly wrecked cabin.
After a good night's rest, Grandpa began to fix up the cabin, but Jane said, "No, Jimmy, fix up your plow while I clear the weeds from the land." So he hunted the right shaped tree for a moldboard and a crooked sapling for handles. Then he attached the steel shear Hiram Dudley had made for him. It took him three days and by that time the horses were well rested and filled out on bluegrass. He fashioned harness from the pack ropes. Then he made a harrow from a young tree that took on the shape of an A, later called A harrows.
So after a week's work of plowing and harrowing, he had about three acres ready to take to the 150 lb. of wheat seed. It was real late, but it was the best they could do and that night after the planting they asked God to bless their efforts. But it was very dry and as they fixed the cabin and got ready for winter they nearly despaired of their wheat. It just started very small needle-like sprouts but never came up before the snow covered it.
After the cabin was made as good as possible, he lay in his winter's meat: deer, nice and fat by now, wild turkey which was all drawn and suspended high in a tree by the same ropes that served for harness.
Now a trip to the nearest fort for some things not to be done without, like powder, lead and other indispensible articles. Their nearest neighbor was about twenty miles, a Scotch-Canadian, named McClain. He came and looked after things while they made the trip to the Fort, forty-five miles away. They rode their own horses and were gone overnight, staying at the Fort and coming back the next day.
The winter was uneventful only for one thing. Sometime in February, while Grandpa was out hunting, a party of about 25 Indians came trapesing in from the north, having seen smoke coming from the new stick-and-clay chimney. They were hungry and Grandma fed them what was on hand. The chief had her take down her long golden braids of hair and each Indian rubbed and stroked her golden locks, then held up the open palm of their hands in token of wonder and admiration. Nearing home, Grandpa ran across the trail of the Indians and as it led toward the cabin he exercised all his caution, fearing he had committed an awful mistake and expecting the worst. Everything seemed to be allright, the smoke came out of the cabin, the horses dozed in the sun by the cliff, but he was not certain he heard Grandma's clear sweet voice singing one of her old psalms of what a protection was God of his children. His joy was so great that he blamed himself for leaving her for so long, but she only said, "Jimmy, it's maybe best you were not here as they may have resented a show of force."
Late in March a foot of snow fell and after it had laid a day or two he had to make a trip to Mr. McClain's for some things got at the Fort. It was a long trip, 40 miles round trip in slushy snow and it was late, nearly ten o' clock when he got home. It was raining and he was so dog-tired he went right off to sleep after he had something to eat and slept late. In the morning the ground was all bare of snow, spring-like and balmy. The door opened to the east on the wheat field, the sun's rays reflected the tiny white sprouts of wheat, a wonderful stand. The snow had just acted like a coverlet and the warm earth had done the rest. O what happy, happy hearts were raised in praise to God for such blessing for so much depended on the wheat for sustenance.
In the spring a family of six came to be closer neighbors, lower down on the creek, about four miles, and by Fall another family moved in closer yet. In the same Fall Jane and Jimmy's first girl baby was born--Aunt Amanda, Sept. 10, 1825, the first of three girls, the others being Aunt Huldah, June 3, 1827, and Aunt Nancy, Nov., 11, 1828. The fourth child was my father, John Milton, Dec. 10, 1829, of whom the historical sketch was made of his early settlement in Franklin Co., Kansas. This was all of the children born in Kentucky, the other two boys, Thomas E., Mar. 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840, having been born in Morgan Co., Ill., as Grandpa sold out his Kentucky homestead and moved to Illinois shortly after my father's birth.
Now, before going on to the later part of the Saga, I can recount some of the things that happened while the family was still in Kentucky.
Soon a new log house was in use and the old one used for a barn. The three mares all brought colts in the spring, and Grandpa soon had a fine string of the Morgan strain, notable in Kentucky. He was also adept with bees and soon had dozens of stands of bees captured in the woods and domesticated.
Roving bands of Indians camped on the creek below as the old cabin seemed to be a stopping place on migratory and hunting excursions. On one occasion a band had camped about a quarter of a mile below and the Indian men had all gone hunting, leaving the squaws and the children in camp which was close to a riffle and deep hole, a favorite spot to fish.
So one morning before sunrise, having dug his grubworms the night before, Grandpa went down to the riffle opposite the Indian camp thinking it favorable for perch to bite. He took his stand and soon had a nice string of 14 perch. The women all watched, the children being asleep yet. He now rolled up his line and left, but after passing out of sight he looked back to see an old squaw come down and cast in right where he had got his fish. But he said she never got a bite for, as he figured, he had caught the entire school and others would be later in the day coming up the creek.
Hunting deer was one of his favorite sports. Ranging down the creek, near the Kentucky river which was rather swampy, deer started by the dogs naturally took to the swamps to throw the dogs off the trail. So Grandpa would take a stand in a choice location and wait for the hounds to bring them within rifle shot. Sometimes they would circle around as many as four or five times before being successful.
On one of these occasions of an early morning he was making a stand in a swamp nearly knee deep in slime and water, and the deer seemed to scent him and took long circles, but always came back to the water. All at once he heard an awful chattering and squawking, the like of which he had never heard before; so he proceeded to investigate. He found, on approaching the racket, a pair of wood ducks with their young nestlings about four feet above water. These ducks are small but have beautifully colored plumage with scarlet red heads, and have their nests above the water.
Now Grandpa watched, and the daddy duck would pluck a little duck out of the nest by the top-knot and drop it in the water, teaching it to swim. And the old mother duck hovered over it, making most of the noise and eventually lifted it back into the nest by the same process, namely by grabbing it by the top-knot and lifting it up into the nest. In this manner all the little ducks got their swimming lessons. On close examination, Grandfather found the nest was full of clutter; so he made the adept illustration to me of how we must all be thrown out on the world of life's cares and responsibilities, in other words, leave the home nest, father leading the way and mother exercising all the cares and worry for young fledglings. He even confessed his own weakness as a spoiled boy, said his father had wisely freed the slaves and placed him on his own responsibilities and made a real man of him.
I can't remember much of the experience in Kentucky, only the county seat of Madison Co. was Richmond, and it was somewhere on this creek that he settled.
They had one real Indian uprising. The scattered settlers retired to the Fort--I think Ft. Herrod. Now, being cooped up did not agree with Grandpa, so he resolved to visit his extra horses, not being able to take all to the fort in the hurry. He had hid some in a cave with some other treasured things. Getting a permit from the Fort commandant, he started out one evening and traveled on foot all night, exercising every precaution, and reaching his hidden horses and other treasures.
Having replenished the provender for the horses, he became bold and started back to the Fort just after noon, knowing he was taking a risk. He was just thinking how lucky he was that dusk was coming on and he within four or five mile of the Fort, when he discovered in the trail just ahead of him a beautiful necklace of all-colored beads. Quick as a flash he perceived the ruse and, grasping his rifle, jumped clear over the necklace, running at top speed to the tune of crackling rifle fire, bullets whizzing by and some cutting his buckskin clothes. Indians, being notoriously bad shots, had put the necklace in his path supposing he would stop to pick it up and they would have an easy mark to shoot at. But our forefathers were so highly sensitive to the dangers in time of Indian trouble that it seems they were inspired and made keen of wit by the very dangers they experienced. Having run what seemed to him miles, and as dusk was coming on and the Fort so near, he slowed up and soon met Haydon with his hounds making the evening rounds of the Fort to make sure that no Indian deviltry was about.
It seems that this last uprising was caused by the encroachments of white on Indian claims, disregarding the state treaty. And as Grandpa was sure he could never get a clear title to his much loved home, he wisely sold out his improvements to the Indian agent, taking along with him to Illinois his beloved string of horses. After having sold one span to the Fort, he had enough left to draw one heavy wagon and one light wagon with all his earthly possessions.
Taking a claim of what is called Buck Horn Prairie, five miles south of the present site of Jacksonville, Illinois, the family effected their removal from Kentucky to Illinois with all their belongings. These included a heavy wagon filled with what was really necessary, and a light wagon carrying the children of whom there were four: Amanda, Huldah, Nancy, and John Milton. This wagon also contained the camp equipage, Grandma being the driver, Grandpa driving the heavy wagon of the Conestoga pattern. The light wagon he made himself, except the wheels which he had made at Boonville. He said it was the only wagon he ever made, but it must have been good as the rear wheels were used on a manure cart that sold at his sale in 1880, and this was in 1830.
It took about two months to make the trip. They crossed the Ohio river at Paducah, Ky. on a ferry boat, followed down the river to Cairo, up the Mississippi to St. Louis, thence to the Mauvestaire river in Illinois and to the home of Henry Davenport, a former acquaintance, who helped him locate his claim on what was known as the Buck Horn Prairie on Little Sandy Creek.
Now I would stop to say that here began a very close intimacy of the two families as my father married the youngest girl of the family and the two of the Davenport boys married two of the Gentry girls, namely Uncle John Davenport to Nancy Gentry, Oct. 7, 1846, Milton Davenport to Huldah Gentry Oct. 6, 1842, John M. Gentry to Angeline Davenport Nov. 17, 1853. Now, that's quite a mix-up. These weddings were strictly family affairs, with some closely related folk, as there were other Davenport families in and around Jacksonville and the neighboring locality. On each occasion when the wedding was at the Gentry's, home of the bride, Grandpa Davenport would boast of making off with one of his girls, which always chagrined Grandpa Gentry, but on the occasion of invading the Davenport home and making off with the only remaining girl he said he turned the tables and they agreed to call it quits.
Now in regards to many of the incidents relating to the settlement of Grandpa on Little Sandy Creek--a church was soon built, called the Little Sandy baptist church, of the Southern Baptist organization, but the old union church, to which the Davenports belonged, was of the Free Will persuasion. From my mother's account, her father, Henry Davenport, was a country lawyer, lay preacher, teacher, as well as farmer,--the leading spirit of his church--while our Grandma Gentry was the teacher and spiritual leader of her church. About this time the great missionary movement in America among all denominations his the Baptist church, north and south.
Here on the old Gentry homestead were born Thomas E., March 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840--"Unk," as we all knew him, calling himself a Hallowe'en youngster, hence always joking and pulling stunts, remembered by the most of our father's 48 grandchildren as he made his home with father after losing his first wife and again after the loss of his second wife.
Now came on growing families from these unions. This was Civil War time and strange as it may seem all three boy of Grandpa's served in the Union army. My father, Because of a large family of small children and because he had lost all of his upper teeth and therefor was unable to bite off the brass rim on the old Springfield shell, ammunition for that arm adopted by the Northern Army, was exempted except for guard duty and served as a prison guard at Springfield, Ill., never leaving the state. Uncle George entered the service in 1864 as a regular soldier but saw no active service, acting as a guard at Camp Butler, at St. Louis, Mo., for the entire period of the war. Uncle Tom saw active service all through the western campaign as a cavalry sergeant under Col. Pleasonton. Was in the battle of Westport, Prairie Grove, Wilson Creek, and in fact all of the battles following the Price raid in western Missouri and eastern Kansas, coming through without a scratch. He also served one year as patrol at Edgerton, Kansas, at that time only an Indian Agency for the Osage and Kansas or Kaw Indians. The Kaw chief's name was Edgerton, so the town holds the name yet.
None of the Davenport's served on either side. However, David Moore, who married Mother's only sister, Aunt Polly Ann, was the first soldier of Morgan Co., Ill., to lose his life. This occurred at the battle of Shiloh.
Two of Grandpa's girls--Aunt Huldah and Aunt Amanda--were school teachers. Both married Baptist preachers, as related,--Aunt Huldah to Milton Davenport who served for years at Pisgah church--Aunt Amanda to Commodore Perry Johnson, also a preacher and from a family of preachers. I have heard him preach--also three of his brothers, namely Uncle Jack, Uncle John and Uncle Jona.
Having begun a summary, I will finish it as time and space are limited. Of this great array of descendants from only one child of Grandpa James M. Gentry who came out of Virginia to Kentucky, imagine the number and extent of the rest of the other six children--veritably a multitude--and as stated before accounts for the rapid growth of our wonderful country. Grown from a few small colonies when our first soldier-ancestors came over from England to a nation first in influence in a world of nations, populated by a wonderful American Race of 130,000,000 people, ours only one of the countless thousands of families helping swell the ranks of people thirsty for liberty which after all is the secret of the phenominal growth of our nation. Would now disgress from one of St. Paul's epistles: "Now where the spirit of God is, there is liberty;" and if we hold fast to that faith, we may expect great things of our beloved American United States.
Now to any and all of the descendants can say that Grandpa James M. Gentry passed away in 1889 and was laid beside Grandma in the old little Sandy graveyard on his early Illinois homestead, owned now by Mr. Mandeville. The graveyard is now very well kept up, but Ralph Gentry says that on one of his visits back to Illinois he worked with grass hook and scythe and straightened up some of the headstones, but he said it was in fairly good shape.
James's parents were first cousins, sharing a grandfather, Nicholas Gentry II, but different grandmothers.
Married Jane Elliott (1800-1880), the descendant of Scottish Presbyterian immigrants, on 26 May 1824 in Madison Co., Kentucky.
Children:
Amanda (1825-1847)
Huldah (1827-1906)
Nancy (b. 1828)
John Milton (1829-1913)
Mary Jane (1833-1836)
Thomas E. (1836-1921)
George W. (1840-1921)
The Quincy Daily Herald, Sunday, October 7, 1888, Page 6
Jas. M. Gentry, a former resident of Jacksonville, died at Butler, Bates County, Mo., Tuesday. His remains were interred at Jacksonville, Thursday.
From "The Gentry Saga" by Earnest Clarence Gentry:
James M., the eldest child of John P's ten children, is our ancestor of the fifth generation. This is the grandparent to whom I referred earlier as having spent several months with us at my father's farm near Princeton, Kansas, and from whose reminiscences I have gathered together most of the material for this story from here on. This grandfather was born Oct. 27, 1804, in Virginia, reared in Kentucky, lived most of his life in Morgan Co., Illinois, and died in 1889 at the home of his youngest son, Geo. W. Gentry, "Unk" to most of the readers of this saga, in Butler, Missouri.
I might say that Grandpa James M. Gentry was the only grandparent I ever saw, my mother's parents having died before I was born, and Grand-mother Gentry (Jane, wife of James M., or Jimmy) having died in 1880, January. It was the death of his wife that brought about Grandpa's coming to spend the following summer with us. His home broken, he had made a sale of the old homestead in Illinois and came out to Princeton to be with my father and his family. I was a lad of just nine years and the youngest of a family of eight, and as Grandpa was over 75 and rather broken up at losing Grandma, I was given the task of waiting on him and entertaining him as best I could. He liked most to tell of his early boyhood and early manhood and it made an impression on my young mind that is indelible. Grandpa recounted tales of his acquaintance with William Sevier, grandson of Gen. Jack Sevier, one of the commanders at the battle of King's Mountain. William and Grandpa were boys together in the new state of Franklin, now Tennessee, Grandpa's father John P., having come here from Surrey Co., North Carolina, then after a few years moving across into what is now West Virginia, at that time Virginia, where he became very wealthy, owning at one time nearly a hundred slaves. William Sevier later married Lucy Gentry, Grandpa's sister, and they migrated to Missouri, some of the Seviers still living in or near Butler. Grandpa told also of his early exploits in hunting and fishing, of his dealings with the Indians in his early settlement in the state of Kentucky in Madison County and other incidents.
As Grandpa was the only son who grew to manhood, he professed he became pretty wild--too much fox hunting and being waited upon by his body servant, Jimmy Dudley. By this time the slave question was growing more acute and seeing into the future his father gave all the slaves their freedom and the heads of families a cabin and a patch of ground. Grandpa was twenty years old, and as he expressed it, this raised his dander to have his father take away from him his servants, so he, Grandpa, without consulting his father married his governess, Jane Elliott, four years his senior, and prepared to migrate to the wilds of Kentucky.
And now comes the most thrilling part of this narrative. After the wedding fanfare or reception, friends and neighbors, black and white, from far and near, gathered to bid the young couple Godspeed in their new undertaking. According to Grandpa, Jane Elliott was the essence of all that is good--well-educated, of Scotch Presbyterian parentage, golden dark auburn hair, brown eyes and a soul of great understanding and love, mothering her oldest boy scholar and, on his decision to go from home, to go with him and share the rigors of frontier life. She had her own horse, Jennie, which she had ridden from house to house in her teaching as there was nothing but private schools. Grandpa had his own horse, Fan, and they were given the best brood mare, Dolly, for a pack horse--for those young folks were starting out on what the three horses could carry, including themselves. Among their possessions were their private portmanteaux or small trunks, a 150 lb. sack of wheat, all other seeds in small quantities, blankets, small brass kettles, a small supply of tools, most necessary. Grandpa told how Hiram Dudley, the darkey blacksmith, made him iron shears to go on the wooden moldboards of the plows. Imagine such an array today for a young couple starting 200 miles to make a home in the wilderness--then we can conceive of the great courage of our noble ancestors.
I should include the date of the marriage of Jimmy and Jane which was May 6, 1824. They spent most of the summer, however, at the old estate, as with the freeing of his slaves Jimmy's father was left very short of help and Jimmy's assistance was quite badly needed. So it was August before they were ready to leave. After tearful goodbyes they set forth just as the sun came up over the golden east to face their western journey.
Grandpa and young William Sevier had often taken what were called "fall hunts" from their Virginia homes far into the interior of the unknown dark and bloody grounds of Kentucky where even the Indians made no permanent settlement inside the grounds. But there was one place in Grandpa's mind that had always called to his romantic nature. It was on a little creek running into the Kentucky River, partly surrounded by high bluffs, covered by all the known trees of the American forest. Here was a small Indian cabin in bad repair. There were nearly five acres of rich bottom land used by the squaws for garden and corn. Some peach trees still struggled from long neglect but bore the choicest of fruit. Hither then was their destination.
I can recall only a few of the details of the journey but the one thing that impressed me most was that at their first camp at night Grandpa asked Grandma if she would rather go back and she quoted from the Bible that there was no looking back, that God was just as close to them wherever they were.
This was the last week of August. Deer were not prime but he shot one anyway when their provisions ran low, but he said he had to feed most of it to the dogs. Of course he brought along Molly from his fox hound kennels and old True from the trailers. He wouldn't have been a Gentry without a dog.
After over a month of very slow travel, on account of the heavy packs, they came at last to the bubbling spring at the foot of the cliff, just below the nearly wrecked cabin.
After a good night's rest, Grandpa began to fix up the cabin, but Jane said, "No, Jimmy, fix up your plow while I clear the weeds from the land." So he hunted the right shaped tree for a moldboard and a crooked sapling for handles. Then he attached the steel shear Hiram Dudley had made for him. It took him three days and by that time the horses were well rested and filled out on bluegrass. He fashioned harness from the pack ropes. Then he made a harrow from a young tree that took on the shape of an A, later called A harrows.
So after a week's work of plowing and harrowing, he had about three acres ready to take to the 150 lb. of wheat seed. It was real late, but it was the best they could do and that night after the planting they asked God to bless their efforts. But it was very dry and as they fixed the cabin and got ready for winter they nearly despaired of their wheat. It just started very small needle-like sprouts but never came up before the snow covered it.
After the cabin was made as good as possible, he lay in his winter's meat: deer, nice and fat by now, wild turkey which was all drawn and suspended high in a tree by the same ropes that served for harness.
Now a trip to the nearest fort for some things not to be done without, like powder, lead and other indispensible articles. Their nearest neighbor was about twenty miles, a Scotch-Canadian, named McClain. He came and looked after things while they made the trip to the Fort, forty-five miles away. They rode their own horses and were gone overnight, staying at the Fort and coming back the next day.
The winter was uneventful only for one thing. Sometime in February, while Grandpa was out hunting, a party of about 25 Indians came trapesing in from the north, having seen smoke coming from the new stick-and-clay chimney. They were hungry and Grandma fed them what was on hand. The chief had her take down her long golden braids of hair and each Indian rubbed and stroked her golden locks, then held up the open palm of their hands in token of wonder and admiration. Nearing home, Grandpa ran across the trail of the Indians and as it led toward the cabin he exercised all his caution, fearing he had committed an awful mistake and expecting the worst. Everything seemed to be allright, the smoke came out of the cabin, the horses dozed in the sun by the cliff, but he was not certain he heard Grandma's clear sweet voice singing one of her old psalms of what a protection was God of his children. His joy was so great that he blamed himself for leaving her for so long, but she only said, "Jimmy, it's maybe best you were not here as they may have resented a show of force."
Late in March a foot of snow fell and after it had laid a day or two he had to make a trip to Mr. McClain's for some things got at the Fort. It was a long trip, 40 miles round trip in slushy snow and it was late, nearly ten o' clock when he got home. It was raining and he was so dog-tired he went right off to sleep after he had something to eat and slept late. In the morning the ground was all bare of snow, spring-like and balmy. The door opened to the east on the wheat field, the sun's rays reflected the tiny white sprouts of wheat, a wonderful stand. The snow had just acted like a coverlet and the warm earth had done the rest. O what happy, happy hearts were raised in praise to God for such blessing for so much depended on the wheat for sustenance.
In the spring a family of six came to be closer neighbors, lower down on the creek, about four miles, and by Fall another family moved in closer yet. In the same Fall Jane and Jimmy's first girl baby was born--Aunt Amanda, Sept. 10, 1825, the first of three girls, the others being Aunt Huldah, June 3, 1827, and Aunt Nancy, Nov., 11, 1828. The fourth child was my father, John Milton, Dec. 10, 1829, of whom the historical sketch was made of his early settlement in Franklin Co., Kansas. This was all of the children born in Kentucky, the other two boys, Thomas E., Mar. 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840, having been born in Morgan Co., Ill., as Grandpa sold out his Kentucky homestead and moved to Illinois shortly after my father's birth.
Now, before going on to the later part of the Saga, I can recount some of the things that happened while the family was still in Kentucky.
Soon a new log house was in use and the old one used for a barn. The three mares all brought colts in the spring, and Grandpa soon had a fine string of the Morgan strain, notable in Kentucky. He was also adept with bees and soon had dozens of stands of bees captured in the woods and domesticated.
Roving bands of Indians camped on the creek below as the old cabin seemed to be a stopping place on migratory and hunting excursions. On one occasion a band had camped about a quarter of a mile below and the Indian men had all gone hunting, leaving the squaws and the children in camp which was close to a riffle and deep hole, a favorite spot to fish.
So one morning before sunrise, having dug his grubworms the night before, Grandpa went down to the riffle opposite the Indian camp thinking it favorable for perch to bite. He took his stand and soon had a nice string of 14 perch. The women all watched, the children being asleep yet. He now rolled up his line and left, but after passing out of sight he looked back to see an old squaw come down and cast in right where he had got his fish. But he said she never got a bite for, as he figured, he had caught the entire school and others would be later in the day coming up the creek.
Hunting deer was one of his favorite sports. Ranging down the creek, near the Kentucky river which was rather swampy, deer started by the dogs naturally took to the swamps to throw the dogs off the trail. So Grandpa would take a stand in a choice location and wait for the hounds to bring them within rifle shot. Sometimes they would circle around as many as four or five times before being successful.
On one of these occasions of an early morning he was making a stand in a swamp nearly knee deep in slime and water, and the deer seemed to scent him and took long circles, but always came back to the water. All at once he heard an awful chattering and squawking, the like of which he had never heard before; so he proceeded to investigate. He found, on approaching the racket, a pair of wood ducks with their young nestlings about four feet above water. These ducks are small but have beautifully colored plumage with scarlet red heads, and have their nests above the water.
Now Grandpa watched, and the daddy duck would pluck a little duck out of the nest by the top-knot and drop it in the water, teaching it to swim. And the old mother duck hovered over it, making most of the noise and eventually lifted it back into the nest by the same process, namely by grabbing it by the top-knot and lifting it up into the nest. In this manner all the little ducks got their swimming lessons. On close examination, Grandfather found the nest was full of clutter; so he made the adept illustration to me of how we must all be thrown out on the world of life's cares and responsibilities, in other words, leave the home nest, father leading the way and mother exercising all the cares and worry for young fledglings. He even confessed his own weakness as a spoiled boy, said his father had wisely freed the slaves and placed him on his own responsibilities and made a real man of him.
I can't remember much of the experience in Kentucky, only the county seat of Madison Co. was Richmond, and it was somewhere on this creek that he settled.
They had one real Indian uprising. The scattered settlers retired to the Fort--I think Ft. Herrod. Now, being cooped up did not agree with Grandpa, so he resolved to visit his extra horses, not being able to take all to the fort in the hurry. He had hid some in a cave with some other treasured things. Getting a permit from the Fort commandant, he started out one evening and traveled on foot all night, exercising every precaution, and reaching his hidden horses and other treasures.
Having replenished the provender for the horses, he became bold and started back to the Fort just after noon, knowing he was taking a risk. He was just thinking how lucky he was that dusk was coming on and he within four or five mile of the Fort, when he discovered in the trail just ahead of him a beautiful necklace of all-colored beads. Quick as a flash he perceived the ruse and, grasping his rifle, jumped clear over the necklace, running at top speed to the tune of crackling rifle fire, bullets whizzing by and some cutting his buckskin clothes. Indians, being notoriously bad shots, had put the necklace in his path supposing he would stop to pick it up and they would have an easy mark to shoot at. But our forefathers were so highly sensitive to the dangers in time of Indian trouble that it seems they were inspired and made keen of wit by the very dangers they experienced. Having run what seemed to him miles, and as dusk was coming on and the Fort so near, he slowed up and soon met Haydon with his hounds making the evening rounds of the Fort to make sure that no Indian deviltry was about.
It seems that this last uprising was caused by the encroachments of white on Indian claims, disregarding the state treaty. And as Grandpa was sure he could never get a clear title to his much loved home, he wisely sold out his improvements to the Indian agent, taking along with him to Illinois his beloved string of horses. After having sold one span to the Fort, he had enough left to draw one heavy wagon and one light wagon with all his earthly possessions.
Taking a claim of what is called Buck Horn Prairie, five miles south of the present site of Jacksonville, Illinois, the family effected their removal from Kentucky to Illinois with all their belongings. These included a heavy wagon filled with what was really necessary, and a light wagon carrying the children of whom there were four: Amanda, Huldah, Nancy, and John Milton. This wagon also contained the camp equipage, Grandma being the driver, Grandpa driving the heavy wagon of the Conestoga pattern. The light wagon he made himself, except the wheels which he had made at Boonville. He said it was the only wagon he ever made, but it must have been good as the rear wheels were used on a manure cart that sold at his sale in 1880, and this was in 1830.
It took about two months to make the trip. They crossed the Ohio river at Paducah, Ky. on a ferry boat, followed down the river to Cairo, up the Mississippi to St. Louis, thence to the Mauvestaire river in Illinois and to the home of Henry Davenport, a former acquaintance, who helped him locate his claim on what was known as the Buck Horn Prairie on Little Sandy Creek.
Now I would stop to say that here began a very close intimacy of the two families as my father married the youngest girl of the family and the two of the Davenport boys married two of the Gentry girls, namely Uncle John Davenport to Nancy Gentry, Oct. 7, 1846, Milton Davenport to Huldah Gentry Oct. 6, 1842, John M. Gentry to Angeline Davenport Nov. 17, 1853. Now, that's quite a mix-up. These weddings were strictly family affairs, with some closely related folk, as there were other Davenport families in and around Jacksonville and the neighboring locality. On each occasion when the wedding was at the Gentry's, home of the bride, Grandpa Davenport would boast of making off with one of his girls, which always chagrined Grandpa Gentry, but on the occasion of invading the Davenport home and making off with the only remaining girl he said he turned the tables and they agreed to call it quits.
Now in regards to many of the incidents relating to the settlement of Grandpa on Little Sandy Creek--a church was soon built, called the Little Sandy baptist church, of the Southern Baptist organization, but the old union church, to which the Davenports belonged, was of the Free Will persuasion. From my mother's account, her father, Henry Davenport, was a country lawyer, lay preacher, teacher, as well as farmer,--the leading spirit of his church--while our Grandma Gentry was the teacher and spiritual leader of her church. About this time the great missionary movement in America among all denominations his the Baptist church, north and south.
Here on the old Gentry homestead were born Thomas E., March 28, 1836, and George W., Oct. 31, 1840--"Unk," as we all knew him, calling himself a Hallowe'en youngster, hence always joking and pulling stunts, remembered by the most of our father's 48 grandchildren as he made his home with father after losing his first wife and again after the loss of his second wife.
Now came on growing families from these unions. This was Civil War time and strange as it may seem all three boy of Grandpa's served in the Union army. My father, Because of a large family of small children and because he had lost all of his upper teeth and therefor was unable to bite off the brass rim on the old Springfield shell, ammunition for that arm adopted by the Northern Army, was exempted except for guard duty and served as a prison guard at Springfield, Ill., never leaving the state. Uncle George entered the service in 1864 as a regular soldier but saw no active service, acting as a guard at Camp Butler, at St. Louis, Mo., for the entire period of the war. Uncle Tom saw active service all through the western campaign as a cavalry sergeant under Col. Pleasonton. Was in the battle of Westport, Prairie Grove, Wilson Creek, and in fact all of the battles following the Price raid in western Missouri and eastern Kansas, coming through without a scratch. He also served one year as patrol at Edgerton, Kansas, at that time only an Indian Agency for the Osage and Kansas or Kaw Indians. The Kaw chief's name was Edgerton, so the town holds the name yet.
None of the Davenport's served on either side. However, David Moore, who married Mother's only sister, Aunt Polly Ann, was the first soldier of Morgan Co., Ill., to lose his life. This occurred at the battle of Shiloh.
Two of Grandpa's girls--Aunt Huldah and Aunt Amanda--were school teachers. Both married Baptist preachers, as related,--Aunt Huldah to Milton Davenport who served for years at Pisgah church--Aunt Amanda to Commodore Perry Johnson, also a preacher and from a family of preachers. I have heard him preach--also three of his brothers, namely Uncle Jack, Uncle John and Uncle Jona.
Having begun a summary, I will finish it as time and space are limited. Of this great array of descendants from only one child of Grandpa James M. Gentry who came out of Virginia to Kentucky, imagine the number and extent of the rest of the other six children--veritably a multitude--and as stated before accounts for the rapid growth of our wonderful country. Grown from a few small colonies when our first soldier-ancestors came over from England to a nation first in influence in a world of nations, populated by a wonderful American Race of 130,000,000 people, ours only one of the countless thousands of families helping swell the ranks of people thirsty for liberty which after all is the secret of the phenominal growth of our nation. Would now disgress from one of St. Paul's epistles: "Now where the spirit of God is, there is liberty;" and if we hold fast to that faith, we may expect great things of our beloved American United States.
Now to any and all of the descendants can say that Grandpa James M. Gentry passed away in 1889 and was laid beside Grandma in the old little Sandy graveyard on his early Illinois homestead, owned now by Mr. Mandeville. The graveyard is now very well kept up, but Ralph Gentry says that on one of his visits back to Illinois he worked with grass hook and scythe and straightened up some of the headstones, but he said it was in fairly good shape.
Gravesite Details
http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~ilmaga/morgan/cemetery/lewis.htm
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