William Fleet Barnes Jr. ("Billy")
1865-1922
Taken from a letter  from Maurice Barnes, dated 29 June 1977, to his sister, Garnette Barnes Biggers. Edited as necessary.

Aunt Betty, Papa's older sister told me once that "your Papa was hauling cordwood when he was 13 years old from up in the forest (Rainswood area) using a wagon and double horses.  He could make 2 loads a day."  She told me that as we came by the house on the way for his second load she would take his lunch out to him at the road side.

Papa was an honest, hard-working, Christian man devoted to his family and a good farmer. Anyone who knew him knew that he believed that a lazy person was guilty of a cardinal sin and furthermore he would have nothing to do with him.  The following illustrates this:

It was sometime in the late Spring of 1922 that Papa and I with our dog, Doodle, were sitting in the shade of the old corner oak tree on the Mantua side of the road, the branches of which spread across the road.  The tree was probably six feet in diameter and was designated as a boundary line marker and had been for well over a century.  Papa was practically an invalid then. He did try to walk around and give us (Kesley and me) advice in working and running the farm.  While he was catching his breath under the oak tree, Dr. Wood1, the preacher at Smithland Church, came walking down the road visiting his flock.  He stopped to talk to Papa and asked how he was.  Papa told him not so good and was not able to help 
but I knew Papa was hurt and angry.  He felt that  the preacher had really said he was OK which meant to him he was bring called lazy!  Papa, on his cane with Doodle went to the house and told Mama, "Belle, when I die I don't want that man to preach my funeral," and told her what Dr. Wood had accused him of.  Mama tried to console him but to no avail.  Papa died about six months later.  True to his wish Rev. Judson Reamy was available to conduct the funeral and burial, although Dr. Wood was present as pastor of our church.

About 1885, he rented a 165-acre farm from Mrs. Blake (she lived in Baltimore and was Mr. Tom Fallin's sister).  The farm was better known as  the Old Forrester place.  He continued to live and rent that place for 32 years at an annual rate of $100.  I was born there, as were all of us children. During this time he started acquiring farm land of his own.2   In 1901 he bought the adjacent farm of 163 acres from Mr. Fallin and in 1917 traded a house and lot he owned in Heathsville with Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Anderson for their 30 acres across the road from the 163 acres.  And in 1920 he bought the Luther Headley farm and house next to the 163 acres on the west side.  This gave him about 240 acres and about this time our family moved into our own home where he died a year or so later.  

As was the practice in those days, the area farmers did a lot of barter-trading among themselves.  Most of Papa's livestock, that he didn't raise from breeding on the farm was acquired in this way, especially cattle and horses. One such horse he acquired in this way was a Bay colt which he named "Frank."  Frank was a medium-sized horse and very smooth, not bony or rough, but somewhat spirited.  He got to be a favorite and Papa was always rubbing him down and brushing him.  When Papa did this, one could hear him mumbling some words that only a horse could understand.  I soon found out that when I brushed him and tried to speak "English" to him, he would turn his head and look at me and snort.  With Papa, it was different.

For instance, on the farm before tractors and such, the fields had to be laid off much like a checkerboard for tomatoes, cantaloupes, etc. in both directions to facilitate cultivating in both directions when the plants were growing.  Such laying out required straight rows, so most folks used a small plow and a gentle horse with reins to the horses bit.  And most of us could use all of these things and still have crooked rows - not so with Papa and Frank.  Papa never used reins.  All he used was the same "mumble" language he used when he brushed Frank.  With this kind of communication between human and animal, Frank would move six to 12 inches or more either to the left or right, stop or start, and the laying was perfect.  Papa never told us what he said to Frank and certainly Frank never revealed the secret either! Frank was 20 plus years old and died of cancer about six months before Papa did.

Another incident occured when I was about four years old concerning Frank:

We lived near Coan Wharf where the steamboats stopped three times a week on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays enroute to Baltimore and on the same days but five hours earlier going to Washington, D.C.  There was some demand for a horse and buggy on Sundays to do to Heathsville, Howland Church or even as far as Horse Head where there was a large Negro settlement.  Papa sometimes rented a rig to such people for the day fro two or three dollars.  He was very careful to find out exactly the person's destination and to size up the people involved.  On one occasion, he seriously misjudged the person, a Negro from Washington who said he wanted to attend services at Horsland Church, about six or seven mile away.  Frank was the horse he hired for the day.  

Papa always waited for his horses to return in the afternoon so he could rub them down and give them a good feeding so they would be ready for some hard farm work Monday.  Late that day about 5 PM or so he started to get uneasy as the man had promised to have Frank back by 3:30 or 4 PM.  As I recall it was about 6 PM when Frank and the buggy turned in the lane.  He was covered with foam (sweat) . It was a warm day.  Papa went immediately out to examine the horse - Frank was nervous and frightened and completely worn out.  Papa ran his hand over his flanks and legs.  He found whip whelp marks  and his front legs bent forward and trembling (which never completely straightened out as long as he lived).  Papa grabbed the buggy whip (about five or six feet long) out of the socket and started for the man who ran out the lane to the main road with Papa swiping at him with the whip all the way, but the man was swift afoot.  As for the family, we all saw it, including Mama; the only thing we could do was pray, as we did, that Papa couldn't catch him.  Papa was furious and I'm sure would have beat the man within an inch of his life had he caught him.  That was by far the worst and only serious outbreak of temper I ever saw Papa have.

After that incident, there was a special attachment between Papa and Frank. Every day for years, Papa rubbed Frank's front legs with "White Horse" liniment.

Papa was always trying to teach us all the important things in life, especially about farming as well as how to handle money.  There was one area in which he was deficient and he was always the first to admit it.  However, he still wanted and expected us boys to learn about mysterious mechanical and electrical things so whenever the opportunity presented itself, he wanted us to take advantage of it.  Sometimes this would be to repair the farm machinery or visit the local blacksmith shop and later the auto repair garage.  I recall the following happening about 1919:

We had a 1917 Model T Ford and it would be expected to travel the mudholes and through sand beds, to take us to Marvin and/or Kirkland Groove camp meeting.  Kesley and I decided that it needed new piston rings.  Papa said "What's piston rings?" but agreed anyway, if we could do the whole job.  So Kesley acquired the new over-size piston rings at Paul Pusey's in Heathsville.  As I remember they were 20-thousands oversize.  Of course there was no way we could be sure of the right size and we couldn't have used micrometers if we had them.  Anyway, we took the Model T and the new rings to Mr. Fallin's barn lot where there was a good shade tree near the main road.  We proceeded to open up the engine, a new experience for both of us which we wouldn't admit to anyone, but Papa knew that.
 
While we had the "thing" all apart and were fitting the rings with some difficulty, Mr. Matt Dawson3 came down the road to the Wharf.  He was a close friend of Papa's so he stopped to talk to Papa who was standing by the gate.  Mr. Dawson saw that the Model T engine was apart and said to Papa "Billy, do you know your automobile will be ruined, those boys are so young they don't know anything about fixing cars."  Papa's reply was that, "Matt, they are MY boys and the car is mine, too.  They WILL fix it and they know that."  Needless to say, the conversation was terminated.  That was the confidence Papa exhibited in his children.  We did fix the car, though there was some difficulty.  Forever after we never doubted the confidence Papa had in us.  Later he even let us build a machine house, but of course we had to cut the logs from the farm and haul them to the sawmill to make lumber.
    


1Dr. Wood was probably 65 years old at the time, having acquired and advanced education and very learned in both Latin and Greek. He also taught at  one time at Centre College in Danville, Kentucky.
2Editor's note: many of the promissory notes and other documents still exist in my files - jbb.
3Mr. Dawson was a good farmer and a fine neighbor.  He was Gordon Raine's grandfather . He had a new Buick 6-cylinder auto which he didn't or couldn't drive. Mrs. Dawson did all the driving.