Among the Hollopeters who settled at Leo, Indiana, prior to the Civil War, the art of repartee was developed to a high degree. A slow wit at a family gathering was the butt of many a joke.
When one of the elder brothers lay on his death bed, a brother felt his feet and found them feverish. Hoping to cheer up the sick man he said, "You are not going to die. No one ever died with hot feet." A slow smile came over the countenance of the dying man as he gasped, "How about John Knox?" Then he passed on to his reward sure in the faith that his brother would not have an answer to that. (John Knox was a character In Fox's Book of Martyrs who was burned at the stake by the clerical authorities of his time for professing certain and divers heretical beliefs.)
While the old M. E. College flourished it was customary for several cousins to hire a house and do their own cooking while attending the school. At one of these houses the boys were engaged in a little horseplay and ended it by picking up one of their number and dropping him from the top rail of a high rail fence. He lay there groaning until they were sure he was badly hurt. Tenderly they carried him into the house and laid him on his bed, all the time apologizing for their rude conduct. As the last one left the room he was assisted by a hearty kick from the supposedly injured member, who then barred his door for the rest of the evening.
The Andrew Hollopeter, Jr., homestead is on the east side of Indiana 427 about two miles south of the Allen-DeKalb County line. It was all woods when he moved on it. When their first rude cabin was completed, his wife Catherine took four forked sticks and drove them into the dirt floor. Across the forks she laid four cross sticks and on these a rough puncheon or split log. On top of the puncheon was spread her shawl and the family Bible on top of that. A home had been formed. The farm of Andrew adjoined that of Little Mose Wells who had married Andrew's sister Phoebe. Little Mose was very much afraid of the dark. Whenever he visited them late in the evening the boys, Will and James, would get him telling stories and keep him busy until it was dark. Then when he could be detained no longer, they would ask him if he wanted a torch. "Yes, I believe I had better have a torch." By the time they had found materials and made a bark torch for him it would be very dark. Once on his way he lost no time, but ran down the lane and through the woods. The boys got a kick out of the speed the torch made, and the wild jumps it took over ditches and logs.
On a bitter cold winter day, circuit rider Andrew was preaching in a log church. One of the good brothers came late and tiptoed in before the blazing fireplace to warm himself. He unwound his mummer, backed up to the roaring fire and gingerly spread the tails of his Sunday coat so that the heat would reach the place where it would do the most good. When he felt comfortable the seat of his trousers was just about smoking hot. He advanced with great dignity to take a seat on the puncheon benches. When he bent over the hot seat of his breeches came in contact with his buttocks. With a startled "Whoop" he leaped upward in a manner that added nothing to the dignity or decorum of the service.
One summer day Will and a neighbor boy, along with Mary Ann and her sister Tillie, went over to the creek. Here they stirred up and killed a rattlesnake. Rattlers were scarce in that part of Indiana, so the encounter had everyone's nerves on edge. On the way home the boys told the girls to stick close to them and they would protect them, Mary Ann said afterward that she had seen them whispering together before this and should have known better than to stick close to them. The boys were wearing heavy cowhide boots with their homespun trousers tucked in them, the girls the usual calico dresses and sunbonnets. When the boys with the girls crowding trustfully at their heels came through a hay field they suddenly began kicking apart a large bumble bee nest. Of course they got stung a few times but it was worth it to see the girls run toward the house, screaming and swinging their sunbonnets at the maddened bees. William got well licked for it but probably just charged that one off to education and experience.
Once William persuaded Mary Ann and James to hold a grain sack over a hole in a hollow log while he punched out a chipmunk so they could have it for a pet. When they were all set and he had the stick inserted in the log he remarked, "Look out, there might be yellow jackets in here." There were, and two trusting souls got well stung. Also William's education was further enlarged,
As Mary Ann grew into young womanhood she was troubled with sick spells, particularly when some disagreeable chore was coming up. If anyone spoke of going somewhere in the wagon, which was the usual mode of transportation then, she could stage a marvelous recovery. The duties of circuit rider and later "presiding elder" took Andrew and his wife away from, home for several days at a time for protracted camp meetings. As they would start on these trips someone would inquire if they might invite their cousins up, "No!" "What if one of us gets sick!" "Well, in that case it might be all right." By the time the parents were out of sight Mary Ann was getting another of her spells and James was on a horse to bring up the other cousins to take care of her. Scheduled farm work suffered while this house party went on.
The contemporary Mathias Hollopeter used to say: "When Mary Ann cooked at the old fireplace, the first thing she did was make the coffee and then set it aside, then she fried the potatoes and set them to one side. Lastly she fried the meat and the meal was ready. The meat was hot, the potatoes barely warm and the coffee stone cold."
When the Civil War came on, James, then eighteen enlisted in the 11th Indiana Volunteer Infantry, the first of the three regiments raised by Lew Wallace for the Union. James related to me that when the regiment was first assembled they were in a tent camp in the summer time. One night after taps, Company D did not feel like going to sleep, a condition frequent with young soldiers. They brayed, crowed, barked and imitated all the animals they could think of. Colonel Wallace strode down to the company street and in his best military manner dressed them down. All was quiet. He turned to leave and had taken a few steps when a slight noise caused him to look around About twenty men in their shirttails were following him on their hands and knees. Without a word he stamped to their Captain's tent. "Captain, where did you get your men," he barked. "Ft. Wayne, sir," said the startled Captain sitting bolt upright in bed at the sound of his commanders voice. "Humph," snorted the future author of Ben Hur, "You might just as well have gone to hell for them."
Later the 11th Indiana was included in the occupation forces under Maj. Gen. Ben Butler that took over New Orleans on its surrender to the navy. Butler's administration of military law to the captured city caused the north to have divided opinions of him for the rest of his life. The high spirited Creoles had only one opinion of him and his men, and that was bad. They would have preferred Lucifer and all his angels to this fiend and his blue-bellied minions. On duty, James and his comrade were strolling in the city and paused at the dining room window of the St. Charles Hotel. The delicious strawberries in the window appealed to their ration-weary stomachs. On entering they were served courteously enough, but on leaving they were charged $1.00 each. They paid without batting an eye and got out as quickly as they could. At that time $1.00 in Leo would have fed a farm hand for the better part of a week.
William enlisted in company C 88th Indiana Volunteer Infantry as a sergeant and was promoted through the ranks to Captain. The final muster roll of that regiment bears the remark after his name, "Discharged for disability from wounds." On one occasion the regiment was on the front line during a stable situation, but had trouble with bushwhackers killing sentries on one of their posts. Finally William volunteered to take the post. After midnight the moon came out. In a little while a hog started grunting and rooting, working slowly toward him. He thought this a little peculiar for a hog to be feeding at this time of night, so he covered it with his rifle and challenged once. The hog kept grunting and working closer. At the crack of his rifle it stopped. In the morning a man wrapped up in a hog skin, with a gun strapped to his back was found dead in front of the post. No more sentries were killed on this post.
In her later years Mary Ann fell and broke her hip. It never healed, so she had to use crutches for the rest of her life. This did not prevent her visiting her nieces and cousins a week at a time. During the harvest time the stress of this entertaining on a busy farm wife was a slight strain. Still they bore up under it nobly, considering it just another cross to bear. At that she was a grand old lady of another day and other customs. From her I learned many things about the family that l would never have known otherwise for she was a good story teller.
Most of the older members of the family are buried in the cemetery at Leo in the old part. Many of their descendants are interred in the new part, some of their bodies having been shipped from a distance to lie in this consecrated spot. A visit here is always an inspiration to meet your troubles with the steady courage they met their personal and national emergencies. After an hour of meditation brought on by the names on the stones, the memories and traditions of these cheerful. kindly people, you can say with the Irish, "God rest their souls."
I add this story told many times in the family about Andrew Jr., the Methodist Circuit Rider. He rode his horse from one log cabin to another to pray with the families for the necessities of life. On one occasion, one of his charges prayed, "O Lord send us a barrel of salt, O Lord send us a barrel of pepper; Good God, Lord, that's too much pepper."