Family information; Pennsylvania Dutch (German). German name could be Westenfeld. (Luther Westfield 3/11/2020)
MANY of the New York mercantile agents were in the South at any period from 1856 1860 will remember old David Westfield,
rich planter, who had charge of the turnpike leading over the Cohuttah Mountains, in Murray County, Georgia. “Once upon a
time,” as the story-tellers, say there was an unusually large assemblage of drummers, hunters, travelers, and the like,
between the cavernous fire-place of old Davy- who was not only a great planter but a great hotel-keeper, and had been a
famous hunter. After supper there seemed a general disposition to tell marvelous tales, and each one endeavored to surpass
the other in the marvelous. They told perils by shipwreck, by bears, by wild-cats, and wolves, by storm and lightning, by
rattlesnakes, by revolvers and bowie knives, until all were slightly nervous from horror, and horror, and prepared to
believe any thing. Old Davy roused up gtomhis great chair in the warm corner, and said “Did I ever tell any of you of my
bear up in these mountains?” Every body knew the old man was not likely to tell a story it surpassed all that had been
told, and a voices exclaimed, “No! tell it – tell it!” He slowly filled his pipe and began:
“It was a cold sharp winter morning, and took my gun and dogs to go for a deer up the Cohuttah. I took my axe along too:
not that expected to find a bear, but just from habit. The snow lay pretty deep on the slope of the mountain, but I wasn’t
thinkin’ about bear’ and so didn’t notice for sign. On top of the the sun had melted the snow, and I come to a hollow log –
a big one. I set down my gun by a tree, and that was foolish; but you see I didn’t expect bear. I took my axe and cut into
the old log just to see what was in it. I cut away a while, never once thinkin’ of them varmints, bears, and I found I had
cut too high up, was above the hollow. Then I cut lower down, still not suspecting that a bear was in it; and I soon had a
hole that I could have got into myself. Then I just laid my axe down and my back to fill my pipe and rest a minute smoke –
Here the old man paused, and illustrated by drawing vigorously at the old pipe. The listeners were all excited, and twenty
voies began at once — “Go on!” “Don’t stop!” “Did you kill it!” “How did you get to your gun?” Did it hurt you?” “Was it a
she with cubs?” “Was it a big one?” “What was it?” etc., etc., Old Davy blew the cloud away from his face, and waiting for
all the questions to cease, “There wasn’t a thing there!”
When the magnitude of the sell dawned the minds of those present they all laughed, said it must be bedtime.
Harper’s Magazine – Volume 38 – Page 286 – 1869
