USA > Iowa > Buchanan County > History of Buchanan County, Iowa, and its people, Volume I > Part 42
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Turning our attention to the west and southwest of the county map, beyond the watershed of the Wapsipinicon, we shall see several small streams flowing in a southwesterly direction and also get a glimpse of the Cedar River, which just touches this county at its southwest corner of Jefferson Township. Of these small streams, the two that we see directly west, in Westburg township, are a couple of small branches that unite to form Spring Creek, which lies wholly in Blackhawk County. The first one of these is just south of Jesup. Its source is Big Spring in section 6 of Westburg. Passing south, the next that We come to is East Branch of Spring Creek, rising in section 16, Westburg, flowing southwest and leaving the county at section 6, Jefferson. Then comes a stream, unnamed, rising in section 9 of Jefferson and passing out at 31 of the savie. East of this is Lime Creek, which rises in section 2, Westburg, flows nearly straight south through that township, makes a slight circuit to the east and then to the west, and passes through Jefferson, leaving it at section 33.
The last stream which is to be described is Bear Creek, which rises in sec- tion 17, of Summer, makes a circuit quite similar to Lime Creek, passes through Homer, enters Jefferson at section 25 and leaves it at 36.
NAMES
Before we leave the subject of Buchanan streams, however, we ought to tell something of their names.
All names are more or less signifieant, and it is probable that no one was ever given without there being in the mind of the christener some definite reason
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why that particular one and not another was assigned to the object named. The reason may never be announced, or if once made known, may become forgot- ten ; or it may be thought too trivial to remember.
But the faet remains that every object named must have both a namer and a reason for its name, and the reason may be remembered long after the person who bestowed the name has been forgotten. Thus it is probable that the streams Buck, Bear, Otter and Buffalo received their names from these several different species of animals inhabiting this region, although there is no definite knowledge of the facts. Other ereeks are named from other special features. Pine Creek undoubtedly got its name on account of the white pines which grew along its banks, but have long since disappeared. They were found mostly in Liberty Township and in few other places in this county have native pines been found except along this stream.
Lime Creek was named so on account of the limestone rock which lines its banks, and although this is not a special feature with this stream alone, yet it is most abundant there.
The personal names of several of the streams are those of prominent indi- viduals who lived in that locality. The Maquoketa and Wapsipinieon are both Indian names, Wapsipinicon signifying white root, as white potato, and un- doubtedly eael has its story connected with it. We have found the latter name spelled Wabsepinicon in the early official documents. It formerly was two words and afterwards, for convenience, was contracted into one name.
The legend woven around the name of Wapsipinicon is as beautiful and attractive a little romanee as is found in literature and is well worth a place in history. So we will record it with but little variation of speech. It is similar in many respects to that beautiful Indian legend of Longfellow's "Hiawatha." Wapsie was a young Indian brave, as stalwart and noble, we imagine, as the noted Hiawatha. Pinicon was a beautiful Indian maiden, as lovely and winsome as the Laughing Minnehaha. They were children of the same race but of different tribes. We suppose (for the location favors the supposition and there is noth- ing in the legend to contradict) that Wapsie was one of the warlike Sioux, and that Pinieon belonged to the equally warlike and hostile tribe of Sac, and, as fate willed it, they met, perhaps by chance, and cupid, as agile and occupied with his love-bow in prehistorie days as at present, sent an arrow straight from Wapsie's flashing eye to pierce the susceptible heart of Pinicon and both suc- cumbed to fate-they fell violently in love and suffered the consequences. Of course, there was strong objections on both sides but love laughs at tribal preju- dices and these ill-fated lovers, both of whom inherited the strong, unyielding blood from a long line of chieftains, which but increased the heroic intensity of their ardor, loved and loved with a desperation that even death eould not sever. Then Pinicon's father discovered that his daughter had listened with favor to the addresses of a scion of a hostile tribe. His wrath knew no bounds and he sternly forbade her to have any further communication with the presumptu- ous and impudent young warrior, or even to think of him again as a desirable or possible suitor for her hand. But love is stronger and more enduring even than law and the lovers still found means of communicating their passion, but with a caution which entirely eluded the parent's vigilant eye.
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At length, weary of the long frustration of their hopes and desires and des- pairing of gaining parental consent, they determined upon an elopement. Pinieon, though not wishing openly to deceive her father, yet did not hesitate to let him believe that she had yieldled to his wishes and given up her ill-starred attachment.
By this he was led to relax his accustomed vigilance and so set out upon an exciting hunt for several days, without leaving anyone specially charged with the duty of guarding his daughter. The faithful Pinicon contrived to inform her devoted Wapsie that a favorable opportunity was afforded for the fulfill- ment of their plans and Wapsie hastened to avail himself of this long-desired chance to bear his beautiful bride away to his northern home, there to reign as mistress of his tepee, to be mother of his little papooses, there to dwell in peace and contentment and be leader among his tribe. This was his dream, but fortune-tellers say that dreams go by contraries and surely Wapsie's dreams played havoc. Ill fate controlled him as with an evil charm. On the very even- ing, just as they were preparing flight, Pinicon's father returned from the chase, tired, hungry, and irritable, and npon finding the young chief in his wig- wam he proceeded to tongne-lash both him and his daughter with unquench- able fury. The brave Wapsie, though very much surprised, was not at all frightened and instead of quarreling with the old chieftain departed in sullen and abject despair, leaving behind a seene as tragic as death to young lovers, an irascible and vehement parent and a speechless, grief-stricken daughter. Snf- fice to say, that when his anger had spent itself, apprehending no further trouble, at least for the present, he began to feel the pangs of hunger, and know- ing with what skill his daughter could prepare a slab of venison, he ordered her to dry her tears and cook his meal. He was very tired and after he had caten his fill of the tender and jujey meat he lay down in his blanket and slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion. The dusky Pinicon, with eyes red from weeping, also lay down, but not to sleep. She thought of many things, and the vision of the trysting place, where she and her lover had so often met, eame per- sistently to hannt her, and finally led her to believe that there she would find him waiting for her. Was it presentiment or was it what we now term mental telepathy or suggestion that prompted her? However, she arose, and wrap- ping her blanket about her proceeded to that sacred spot. now hallowed with precious memories. If she found him not, still, it woukl afford her a melancholy pleasure to be there alone, as she had so often been, and she could easily return to the wigwam before her father awoke. It was but little more than a mile, partly through the oak woods and partly across the prairies, and to a fleet- Footed Indian maiden this 2 or 216 miles was but a short span and could be easily and quickly traversed. The October moon was shining brightly and as soon as she came to the edge of the grove and in sight of the huge roek beneath a spreading oak, where they were accustomed to sit in the deepening twilight, bewailing their misfortunes or discussing plans for the future, she beheld a dark object beneath it, which she recognized as the form of her lover, the noble Wapsie. Almost at the same instant his acute ear and alert eye detected a crackling noise and a fleeting shadow among the oaks, which he at first suspeeted might be a deer and which proved to be one, his dear, Pinieon (with aeknowl- edgment that this pun is not original). He flew to meet her and clasped her
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in his arms, exclaiming, "Not even death shall ever part us more. Let us fly to my northern home, where parental tyranny can never separate us and we can dwell in peace and harmony until the Great Spirit, Gitchie Manitou, calls us."
While they were engaged in conversation, planning a beautiful, sonl-satisfying future, they heard stealthy footsteps in the distance; turning, they caught glimpses of several skulking, shadowy forms approaching. Pinicon immediately recognized them as her father and three braves of the tribe.
She was panic stricken and elung to her lover, but soon her courage returned and she it was who proposed that they fly to the river and die rather than be separated.
The stream was about a mile to the west of them and thither they ran in desperate flight, as though it were a haven of life rather than death. But their pursuers were fleeter of foot than the pursued-Wapsie somewhat retarded in his flight by having to assist his beloved, Pinicon, through the tangle of under- brush.
When the fugitives reached the river's bank the pursuing chiefs were only about a rod behind them.
There was no time for reconsideration or tragic farewells or even the Indian death song, although Wapsie was said to have been the best soloist of his tribe; the murmuring river was singing their funeral chant. Without a word of reproach, and only a backward glance of mingled despair and forgiveness at the angry faces glaring at them in the moonlight, the devoted lovers elasped in each other's arms and plunged into the stream.
The enraged father reached the bank only to behold them struggling in the water, sinking and rising and finally sinking. At once his anger was changed to forgiveness and torturing grief. In vain he called and called them to come back, and when, for the last time, they rose to the surface and cast a last lingering look of pity and love at the poor old grief-stricken chief, weeping on the bank, they sank in the engulfing waters to rise no more. The broken hearted chief never recovered from the shock and loss of his beloved daughter. He never smiled again and a melancholia took possession of his mind. The medicine men could do nothing to arrest his malady and before spring bloomed again his spirit had taken its flight to the Happy Hunting Grounds, where he would meet his children and live in peace and love forever.
We have followed an inspiration to put this legend into verse after the style of Hiawatha-so with due apologies to Longfellow, we present :
Once there lived an Indian maiden By the lovely name of Pinicon, Daughter of an old Sac chieftain ;
Lovely was she as her name was, Sweet and kind and gentle mannered, Lived she in her father's wigwam. Watchful was she of his comfort- Tended all the fireside duties,
Made the fires and spread the blankets,
Cooked the fish and fowl and deer-meat ;
Skilled was she in woman's handicraft,
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Wove fine blankets in fancy patterns, Made the chieftain's moccasins and headgear, Strung the beads and sewed on feathers; Ever mindful of her duties, Loved by all who ever knew her. And the old chief loved her dearly, And would keep her ever near him; Guarded her with constant vigil, With a selfish, jealous passion, But as faith doth often will it . Love goes far to meet its soul mate, Even though in hostile campfires. So this maiden's heart went roving, As she wandered from her fireside From the wigwams of her father ; Met by chance a gallant warrior, Of the fierce and warlike Sionans, And in spite of fends and warnings Gainst this tribe of bitter enemies, Cupid sent his arrow darting, Pierced the hearts of youth and maiden- Fell in love upon the instant ; But their love proved tragic bitter, For the old chief scorned their passion, Threatened and coerced his daughter. Stern, relentless, never yielding,
Watched her as a prison convict ;
But when Sae Chief goes a-hunting. Wapsie seeks his faithful Pinicon In the tepee of her father- In the land of fiercest foemen-
There to woo and win his squaw-wife.
Just when things were looking pleasant, And his prospects seemed to brighten,
Home returned the irate father, Stormed and fumed to find his daughter Entertaining hostile chieftain From that hated tribe of Sionans;
Raged and raved and threatened vengeance,
Drove the stranger from his hearthstone, Told him never more to enter ; Keep his fireside with the warriors Of his clan of treacherous squaw-men Or his sealp would then be dangling From the belt of Old Sac Chieftain. Wapsie stalked from out the wigwam, Backward looked but never answered, Silent kept his tongue from anger
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From the barbed and eruel language Which would hurt the gentle maiden ; Proud, serene, and little frightened At the old chief's threatened torments, Forth he strode with air majestic, Not with hate nor yet with anguish. Faith had he that time would serve him- Faith that Pinicon would love him To the end of life and longer ; To the land beyond the boundaries. Where all things are free and "neutral." Pinicon, with speechless horror. Saw the departing of her lover; Saw her Wapsie leave forever, Made a silent vow in protest, Vowed to love him and to follow If it be to death or sorrow. Then the chieftain bade his daughter Cook his food, and fry his venison, Which he ate with famished hunger ; Ate until his hunger vanished. Then he called for pipe and smoke-weed- Smoked in silence-sat and pondered, Smoked until his anger smothered; Wrapped himself up in his blanket, Laid him down to peaceful slumbers- Dreams of rieh and fruitful hunting, Fallow deer and bear and bison In great droves of countless numbers. Dreams of fishing rare and bounteous, Pike and trout and bass and pickerel- Strings of them which grew so lengthy That he could not lift or number. While he slept with dreams that soothed him, Pinicon lay down to torments, Thinking sadly of her lover, Wondering if she'd ever see him. Haunted with a desperate longing, Up she rose, wrapped in her blanket, Stole she forth in quest of solace To the place where oft she'd met him; Sought the comforts of surroundings Fraught with memories, sad and tender : Songht the spot now hallowed, sacred, Where their love-vows oft they'd plighted. Fleet of step and light as feather, And with heart that sped before her. Urged as by some unseen spirit,
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Came she to the place of trysting; Saw a form, beloved, familiar, By the moonlight, soft and silvery, Clearly outlined every figure, Recognized her faithful lover Sitting there in deep dejection, Though his mind was steeped in sorrow. Yet his eye was like the eagle And his ear was keen and active,
And he sensed some one approaching, Knew his loved one at a distance. Quick he sprang to go and meet her, Clasped her in his arms with fervor, Poured ont words of love and passion; Eloquent his tongue with love themes, Ardent grew with vows and pleadings, Thus he wooed the Indian maiden : "Come with me. oh lovely Pinicon, To the land of warlike chieftains; To the land of Sionx brave warriors, There to dwell in peace and plenty. Be the ruler of my wigwam. Be my starlight-moonlight-firelight,
Be the sunlight of my people. Thus our tribes may be united, Thus old feuds may be forgotten And old wounds be healed forever."
Let this peace between our peoples
Blot ont memories of warfare. Many years of strife and bloodshed, Let it grow and last forever. You will be the bond of friendship That unites our hearts in union, And that clasps our hands more closely.
Let your heart speak, lovely Pinicon." And she seemed by far more lovely As she stood in thoughtful silence, In the silvery October moonlight Neither willing nor reluctant.
Then she went to noble Wapsie, Softly took her place beside him, While she said-and eager said it, "I will follow you my husband. As unto the bow the cord is So unto the man is woman, Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him, yet she follows; Useless each withont the other."
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Thus the brave and youthful Wapsie Spoke his mind and on it pondered. Then with ardent look and shyness, Put his arm about the maiden. 'Bout the form of yielding Pinicon, "I will lead you by the North Star, Guided by its fixed location, Far away to peaceful countries, To the wigwams of my fathers." Thus he spoke, and as he uttered, Came faint sounds of angry voices, Faint, yet growing much distincter. Then they turned and soon discovered Forms pursuing in the darkness. The maiden's father and three others, Bent upon a frightful mission, Bound to catch the youthful culprits, Imprison the maid and kill her lover. Kill the brave and noble Wapsie, ""Fis my father!" cried the maiden, "To the river, let our course be ; Let us die before surrender !" Spake the faithful hearted Pinieon.
To the west their course renewing,
With the chieftains still pursuing, Ran they swiftly as the reindeer, Came up to the raging river, With the chieftains elose behind them.
Waited not for word or death song,
Though this Wapsie was a singer, Best of all his tribe of Warriors. With a backward glance of pleading, With despair upon their faces, Clasped they in each other's strong arms, Leaped into the raging torrents, Sank and rose and struggled fiercely.
But the waves, the mighty wau waus
Fought with strength their feeble efforts,
Fought with vengeance to subdue them,
Fought and conquered-these intruders, Laughed and rippled o'er their victims. And the father saw these ripples, Saw, and anguish rent his heart-strings. "Bank, come baek, oh lovely Pinicon, Come, forgive your broken father, Come, oh Wapsie, with your fair bride, Come and I'll bestow my blessing, Give you trophies, skins and wampum,
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Give you half my lands and wigwam, Make you chief among my people- Call you son, and as a brother, You shall share my heart and tepee." Called and called the pleading father, In his sorrow and his anguish, Called and but the echoes answered,
Came they back to taunt and mock him. And, the surging of the river, Lapping, roaring, ever onward- Was the only sound that smote him,
And the rippling of the waters Seemed to laugh and rudely taunt him, While the foam upon its bosom Seemed to be a rare resemblance,
Like their souls, in color, texture. Light and airy, riding billows, On the river's muddy waters, Far away to distant countries, To the oceans mighty waters,
There to find their longed-for heaven,
There to meet their long-lost kindred,
There to wait for coming kinsmen. And the mighty old Sioux chieftain, Broken hearted and despairing, Never smiled, and melancholia Chained his mind in icy fetters And no drug, or herb or medicine
Of this malady could cure him, And the spring had not yet broken Through the snows and ice of winter Till his soul its flight had taken. To the land of happy hunters,
To the land of deer and bison,
To the land where all is peaceful. Naught of strife or wars or discord, To the home of happy lovers, There to live and love forever In the wigwams of their fathers.
And the river bore his birch-bark, While his soul in phantom specter Sat and guided without paddle, Oar, or wheel or shining rudder, Down the river, through the rapids, To the mighty Mississippi,
Father of those many waters,
Thence on down into the ocean. And the words which made his death song
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Were the names of those two lovers,
Noble warrior, lovely maiden,
Young chief Wapsie, dusky Pinicon,
Ringing ever through his conscience, Ring clear, in song triumphant,
With its sweet, euphonious cadence,
With its melody persistent,
In the music of the waters,
In the echoes of its sound waves,
In the call of beast or wild fowl.
River of such tragie happenings,
River of such noble passions,
Named of each ill fated lover,
Sing their death song, sweet and haunting,
Sing it through the countless eons,
Sing it days and years and ages,
Sing it while the sands are sifting,
Sing that name of wondrous meaning,
The enchanted Wapsipinicon.
The features of every landscape are forever changing either through natural causes or through the instrumentality of man.
The course of all streams fluctuate more or less depending largely on the condition and kind of soil through which they flow.
When rains are heavy, long continued and covering an extended area, the rivers rise, overflow their banks, make gullies in them, wash out dams, bridges and other artificial structures and scatter debris along the banks and quite often at these unusual flood times, the river changes its course completely.
The Wapsipinicon has been known to do all of these things, and, while we are not subjected to this aggravation very often, still, every few years the river gets on a rampage and does considerable damage.
The Wapsipinicon flows through a soil that is for the most part sandy and therefore drifts and shifts changing the course of the river, and making it very difficult to bridge in some places where bridges are very necessary. History tells of a place of this character just south of Independence now known as the South Bridge.
The river before reaching this point, after flowing almost due south through the city, makes a sudden deflection toward the east and after the first bridge was built the stream changed its bed to such an extent, and the bank had been so washed out at the southern extremity of the bridge that it was neces- sary to cross the river some forty rods below, although the road would have to turn that distance out of its direct course in order to reach the new crossing, and so this was done at that time, when they were building the bridge which still stands.
Another decided change which the Wapsie has made is at the place. about a half mile north of the second or Rock Island Railroad Bridge, known as the cut off. Here the river, flowing in a southeasterly direction, makes a wide semi-circle ent to the east, and then resumes its former direction. Mr. Charles
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Putney appreciating this waste of valuable time and labor on a day's fishing excursion conceived the idea to cut a channel through the diameter of this so called semi-circle and save considerable hard rowing, shallow water and sand bars-so a space was dug large enough for a row-boat to pass through, that was some thirty odd years ago-and today that eut off is the main channel of the river and no one navigates the other channel except to seek secluded nooks for fishing and when the water is high, for a longer trip.
The Wapsipinicon is a river of great contrasts which could scarcely be realized when one sees it in midsummer, shrunk so low that a child could easily wade across it in many places and the entire stream being used in the mill fume, and then note the contrast in its condition in the early spring or after a January thaw, or a JJune freshet. You could hardly imagine a greater change from the clear, quiet, slow-flowing stream, to the raging, angry, muddy tor- rent which tears along leaving destruction and debris along its path. Never- theless it is a very picturesque and awe-inspiring spectacle.
The earliest account of the river's floods that we are able to find was in August, 1858, but undoubtedly there were many previous to this, as there have been since, although it has never been known to be so high, but once within the memory of the oldest inhabitant, and that in 1851-seven years before. The high water of 1858 was caused by the heavy, continued rains which almost flooded the entire country through which the Wapsie and its tributaries tlow.
On Saturday, July 31st, the water began raising and within twenty-four hours' time it raised fifteen feet. It attained its highest mark at 11 A. M. Sunday and then began to slowly reeede. The water overflowed Main Street at the east end of the bridge, as far as S. S. Allen's book store and a swift current flowed between it and the P. C. Wilcox dry goods store.
Luckily some of the citizens, thinking it might be the regular periodieal flood, on Saturday night when the water began to rise and look threatening hanled about thirty loads of stone onto the bridge and on Sunday morning about fifty more and owing to this fore-thought, it withstood the torrents and was about as good as ever with the exception of a few missing planks and some of the railing.
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