History of Floyd County, Iowa : together with sketches of its cities, villages and townships, educational, religious, civil, military, and political history; portraits of prominent persons, and biographies of representative citizens, Part 55

Author: Inter-state publishing co., Chicago
Publication date: 1882
Publisher: Chicago : Inter-state publishing co.
Number of Pages: 1168

USA > Iowa > Floyd County > History of Floyd County, Iowa : together with sketches of its cities, villages and townships, educational, religious, civil, military, and political history; portraits of prominent persons, and biographies of representative citizens > Part 55

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Taylor, Page and Fremont, that On Missouri's border lie.

Pottawattamie, Harrison, Mills, Monona, Woodbury, Plymouth, Sioux, Are all the counties that around The border of our State we view. Next we point you to O'Brien, Palo Alto too, and Clay, Hancock, Cerro Gordo, Floyd, Now see Chickasaw, I pray.

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HISTORY OF FLOYD COUNTY.

Fayette, Bremer, Butler, Franklin, Next upon the map we see; Wright and Humboldt, Pocahontas, Buena Vista, Cherokee, Ida, Sac, Calhoun and Webster, Hamilton, with names so rare; Next is Hardin, Grundy, Black Hawk, And Buchanan, Delaware.

Jones, Linn, Benton, Tama, Marshall, Story, Crawford, Carroll, Boone, (Let us not your patience weary, We shall have them all told soon,) Cedar, Greene, Johnson, Iowa, With Powesheik by the same; Here is Jasper, Polk and Dallas, Names of Presidential fame.

Guthrie, Audubon and Shelby, Cass and Madison, Adair, Warren, Marion and Mahaska, And Keokuk, too, is there : Henry, Jefferson and Wapello, Monroe, Washington we missed ; Lucas, Clarke, Union, Adams, And Montgomery fills the list.

ELIZABETH J. COLE

In early days contributed more poetry to the Charles City Intelli gencer than any other person. We make only one selection.

COMING HOME.

I'm coming home at last, mother, Home to your arms once more; Methinks their fond embrace, mother, Would soothe me as of yore.

The way seems long and dark, mother, My heart is yearning so; I long for one caress, mother, The kiss of long ago.

I would not pain your heart, mother, But you'll know it bye and bye- Your boy is coming home, mother, Yes, coming home to die.

I've longed to breathe the air, mother, Of my dear mountain home; And feel its balmy breeze, mother, . Among my tresses roam.

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Could I cool my parching lips, mother, And lave my burning brow With a draught from the old well, mother, It would be blissful now.

But I'm coming to you now, mother- You'll not be waiting long- But not as when I left, mother, Vigorous, blithe and strong.

Can it be night so soon, mother ? 'Tis, oh, so dark and cold !

Within your loving arms, mother, Your dying child enfold.

Prairie Glen, F. b. 23, 1864.

"IANTHE "

Contributed a great deal to the press many years ago, both poetry and prose. We give one short selection :

"MATERNAL AFFECTION.

"How vast its import! How deep its fountain! How lasting its duration! What weariness is not endured! What untiring effort is put forth when naught but the alleviation of suffering is reason- ably expected !

" When all hope has fled, and the pale, emaciated little one has become a lifeless form, so unlike what it was in health as scarcely to be recognized, with what tenacity and affection the mother's heart clings to it still! Its little fragile form is laid upon the table, clad in the drapery of the grave, yet unceasingly does the mother weep by its side. Its tiny hands are gently folded, its silvery, clustering curls are sweetly parted again and again, to- produce, if possible, some trace or resemblance of its former life and beauty; but the spirit has departed, and inanimate clay is all that remains. 'Tis buried, and the grave closes over that cher- ished, beautiful object. Oh, the sadness and desolation that now take possession of that mother's heart !. How carefully is col- lected and preserved each toy and garment formerly used and worn, as memento of 'the loved and lost!' But how unavailing! Nothing fills that vacancy in that mother's heart; the steel hath entered, and the wound remains. Time may produce some change; it may indeed check the heart's bleeding; but how easily it gushes forth again like some long pent-up current. Grace af- fords the best remedy for the sorrows of this life, and yet what

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mother ever possessed so much of that heavenly virtue as to be- come insensible to the woe or weal of her offspring. But no less severely is her affection tested, when the child upon whom she had rested all her future hopes, deserts her entirely, disregarding alike her necessities and entreaties; becomes familiar with scenes of vice and infamy; yet, if detected in the commission of crime, how long her heart seeks to believe him innocent, and if con- victed, how readily she forgives and also ardently prays her God to forgive him, even if it be the last act of her life! Oh, if there be aught in our natures uncontaminated by sin, surely it is this: A mother's love."

W. P. GAYLORD.

We present here a specimen of Mr. Gaylord's descriptive powers.

THE SENIOR EDITOR'S EXPERIENCE- Babes in the Hood-How it goes - to raise a family, and how a family goes after being raised.

We are not so much worried over what will become of our children when we are gone, as we are in knowing what will be- come of us when our children are here. They are little nuisances and big nuisances, according to their age and size, and yet we don't know how we could keep house without them. Their infer- nal noise is often provoking, but we have heard so much of it that we begin to like it. We could not smoke, nor read, nor write, nor sleep without it.

When we were shown our first baby, and were informed that it looked just like its father, we thought it was about the cutest thing we ever saw; but after a little observation and inquiry we found that almost everybody else had the same opinion of their baby that we had of ours, and the older we grew and the more babies we had, the more we found out that the mother of our babies thought a great deal more of them than anybody else did. Women with their children used to come to our house, visiting, and would say our children were "smart and good looking," but I noticed that all such women paused for a reply, and were tickled amazingly when my wife would return the compliment by saying the same thing about their children. We have some knowledge of camphor, castor oil, soothing syrup, paregoric, laudanum and catnip. We know something about jumping up in the night, strik- ing our head against the door-casing, peeling our shins against the stove hearth, stumbling over chairs and smashing lamp chimneys

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to reach the match box. We like the interesting time when the measles, mumps, whooping cough and prairie itch are around; it makes things lively.

We like the experience of that hour between daylight and sun - rise, when, snoring at the rate of ten knots an hour, one of the little " images of its dad " has crawled over its mother from the back side of the bed, and whacks its hand right into my face, punches its fingers up my nose, pulls my hair, gives my lips a gouge, and tries to play with my ears,-all of which was as good as an alarm bell, and just about as regular. I like to see them coming down stairs in the morning, some their clothes half on, some with clothes in hand, some bare-handed, bare-headed and bare-footed, with their hair frizzled over their heads like the mane of a wild mustang, and hear them sing out "Mother, where is my stockings?" "Mother, where is my shoes?" "Mother, where is

my garter?" " Mother, where is my apron?" "Mother, where is

my comb?" "Mother, where is the wash-basin?" "Mother where is the towel?" "Mother, I ain't agoin' to school to-day."

And now comes rattling down stairs like a four-horse wagon, Young America, - the only one we have got (and we are not yet sure whether we have got him or he has got us); but, like a good many other boys, he stays with us over night and runs wild through the day. He, too, has to dress himself in the kitchen; his stockings are always wet, his boots are always run over and shrunken, his trowsers always torn, and, just like his father, he never knows where to find his hat. Sometimes I have a notion to lick him, and we suppose he sometimes has a notion to lick as; but, if we beliave ourselves decently well, we are inclined to think lie will let us board with him till he is twenty-one.

The family menagerie is an interesting show. There is some fun, and much music and money, in bringing up a family of ten, twenty, thirty or forty children.

When breakfast is ready, the children are never ready for it. They are always hungry enough, and willing enough to come forward and eat, but between them and the table is that great gulf, the wash-basin, so that those who would come up with unwashed hands and faces as black as the ace of spades, can not. Then it is interesting to see three or four of them washing around the same basin at the same time, some washing the inside of their hands, some the outside, some wetting one side of their face, some the

My Jeune

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other, and some neither side, and all using the water with as much economy as though it were the only water in America.

Then comes the stampede for the towel. One seizes at each end . another the middle; one twitches one way, another in another direction, and another sags down in the middle, while all go weaving to and fro like a willow hedge in a thunder-storm, and each trying to wear off with the towel what they ought to have washed off with the water. Then up to the 'glass' they come, and of course all want the same comb at the same time. One, with tears in its eyes, is trying to straighten out its tangled hair, which was welded together the day before with gum and molasses. Another is waiting for the comb, mad because it can't have it, while another is squalling because it is obliged to use it.

Around the table they come, one whining because it "hain't got the right knife and fork, " another taking exception to its plate, while all are asking for something at the same time, and each as mad as a hornet because the other has the biggest piece, and at the same time sniffling just enough to get another unwanted slice from its indulgent mother. Then it is fun to see the little two-year old get mad, just because she can't have all that is on the table; refusing to eat because she can't have her cake and pie and nick- nacks first; then to see her try to have revenge on her mother by throwing her fork or spoon under the table, just to show her indignation and to see her mother pick it up,-which her mother always does, to gratify the 'poor little thing, ' who returns her affection by throwing it down again in such a provoking manner as to bring a loving mother's cuffing hand in red hot contact with her little ears. Then comes the squall of bloody murder; then comes the crawling down from the high chair position; then the creeping under the table, where she flops herself face downward to the floor, just to show her mother that her majesty is insulted, and that she has rights which her mother is bound to respect; and there she lies, mad as a wet hen, kicking and floundering if she is noticed, and still more terribly mad if she is unnoticed.

While this interesting scene has been going on, the other children, who are older grown, have taken advantage of the confusion and have it all their own way. They have upset the coffee-cups all over the table-cloth; the pies, the cake and the nick-nacks, have gone the way of all the earth, and the sugar-bowl stands there as a monument of what it once contained. And all this has been go- 37

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HISTORY OF FLOYD COUNTY.

ing on right under the eye of their father, who has neither seen the sights nor heard the sounds.

It takes a veteran mother to whitewash and rig up a family of fifteen or twenty children for school. One wants to wear her "red frock." another her " white apron," another her " best gaiters," and all would like to wear their best hats, with feathers fluttering in profusion. When these things are denied then, their wrath is red-hot, and "'tis music in the sinner's ears " to hear them howl. One declares she won't go to school to-day, if she can't have clothes like other children. Another says that all the other girls wear better shoes to school than she has for Sunday; another in- sists that there is not another hat in the whole school as homely as hers ; while another declares that she don't see why her father can't get nice things as well as Smith, and Brown, and Jones. Another is bound not to go to school because she "hain't got no books;" another, because the other children made fun of her; another, be- cause "the teacher ain't good for nothing;" another, because some one has been exposed to the measles or the itch; and another because she is sick, when the fact is, if she were allowed to rig up in her best clothes, she would be well in less than five minutes.

After a great tribulation, and a brief discussion, in which the switch is used for an argument, a compromise is made with their mother, by the terms of which they agree to go to school on the conditions following, to wit: 1. That each one is to have a hand- ful of white sugar before he or she starts. 2. That some day they shall have as good clothes as other children. 3. That they shall have a new set of books the first time their father goes to town. 4. That their mother shall put up for their dinners about twice as much as they really want. 5. That their dinners shall consist of cakes and pies, and pies and cakes, with a little more cake, and a little more pie. 6. That they may come home at recess in the af- ternoon, and especially if they get sick. 7. That they needn't go to school the next day unless they're a mind to. 8. That if they go to school to-day, they may go to the nigger show to-night. 9. That when they get a little bigger they shall have an organ. 10. That their mother shall stay at home and that they may go to tl e next " Free Methodist camp-meeting." 11. That when they get to be "young women " they needn't mind their father-unless he " gets his dander up." 12. That if the teacher don't behave him- self, they may quit the school altogether.

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HISTORY OF FLOYD COUNTY.

They have started off to school, and their mother strikes up,

" O land of rest, for thee I sigh!"

We are glad to get rid of their noise. The mother says the teacher is paid for his work, and he may as well have a little bother- ation with them as to throw it all off on her. None are left at home except the baby-and here she comes, bare-headed and bare-footed, yelling, back to the house, because the older children, whom she has tried to follow off, have driven her back. But a handful of sugar, a doll-baby, and her father's razor to play with, soon takes the pout out of her, and the business of the day begins.

The first exercise is to whack her two hands into her mother's dough ; then comes the knitting needles out of her mother's knit- ting ; now off goes the head from the doll-baby ; then the wheel- barrow and hand-sled come into the house ; now the contents of the trunks of the older children are inspected from top to bottom ; then she tries to whittle a top out of a spool with her father's razor ; and now the old cat and kittens have to be suspended by their tails till their patience is worn out, when they wheel on her and scratch themselves out of her clutches, and another shower of yells is set up, which are quieted with another hand- ful of sugar, and a complimentary rag is tied upon the wounded finger.

These interesting scenes are interspersed with a thousand and one questions, among which is, who made her ? and when she is answered, that the Lord made all things, her inquisitiveness is ex- cited and she wants to know who made the Lord ; and her mother, tired, of answering her questions, tells her to " dry up."

And so it goes all through the day, till here they come rattling home from school like so many escaped pigs from a muddy pen. Here comes one with the handle torn off her dinner-basket; another, with her apron in her hand ; another, with her wet feet ; another, with a scratched face, while Young America comes with his trow- sers legs ripped from his boots to his knees ; one goes for the sugar-bowl, another for the preserves ; another for a loaf of bread, and the pandemonium thus illustrated is but the foreground of the hell that follows.

Now for a ride on the wheel-barrow and the hand-sled, with the "littlest" always in front as a fender, and down the hill they go, striking the trees and fences, half spilling and half killing the little " fellers," who have been placed in front by the more crafty ones

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of experience. Then comes music-sweet chin-music from the whole band, while up the hill they crawl with their red fingers and ears, vowing vengeance each on the other as they come up to the appellant court of their indulgent mother to make an exhibit of torn clothes and heads, and ears plastered with mud and snow. The court, after patiently listening to the evidence, threatens to "skin them alive" if they ever do the like again ; and, for the want of a whip in the house and a disposition to use one, the case goes up to the supreme court of their father.

Supper is ready and but one or two respond. They had too much when they came home from school. After supper is over, the performance begins : tops, marbles and doll-babies all come around in turn. Then one gets into the rocking-chair, and all want it. must have it, can't do without it ; one crawls in back of the one in front ; another, still behind her, and so on till the chair is full to the top, when the one in front is crowded out and over goes the chair, and down come the passengers, and another singing-school is begun, where all the key-notes are struck, from the finest treble to the coarsest bass.

The evening's entertainment.winds up with a ball-through the window, a doll all gone to smash, the rocker split off the rocking- chair, and an endless variety of disputes.

Bed-time has come. There lies one under the table, fast asleep, another under the stand, and another on the lounge. On being aroused and ordered to bed, two or three of the youngest are bound to sleep with their mother ; another will go up stairs for five cents ; another wants a handful of sugar; another a stick of gum, till their mother, provoked beyond endurance, brings out the album, and, showing them the profile of their father, tells them she can hear him coming, when they scamper off to bed in quick meter.

Many others in Floyd County have contributed able poems and prose articles to the newspaper press, but mostly under initials only or fictitious names ; as, "'Crispin," "Meave," "R. M. C.," etc. Also, we make honorable mention of Dr. J. W. Smith, Mrs. Lida E. Reiniger, Miss HI. F. Brainard and W. S. Rider (deceased).

CHAPTER XIV.

THE PRESS.

There is no instrumentality, not even excepting the pulpit and the bar, which exerts such an influence upon society as the press of the land. It is the Archimedian lever that moves the world. The talented minister of the gospel on the Sabbath day preaches to a few hundred people; on the following morning his thoughts are reproduced more than a thousand fold, and are read and discussed throughout the length and breadth of the land. The attorney at the bar, in thrilling tones, pleads either for or against the criminal arraigned for trial, often causing the jury to bring in verdict against the law and the testimony in the case. His words are reproduced in every daily reached by the telegraphic wire, and his arguments are calmly weighed by unprejudiced men and accepted for what they are worth. The politician takes the stand and addresses a handful of men upon the political questions of the day; his speech is reported and read by a thousand men for every one that heard the address. Suddenly the waters of one of our mighty rivers rise, overflowing the land for miles and miles, rendering thousands of peo ple homeless and without means to secure their daily bread. The news is flashed over the wire, taken up by the press, and is known and read of all men. No time is lost in sending to their relief - the press has made known their wants and they are instantly sup- plied. "Chicago is on fire! Two hundred millions worth of prop- erty destroyed! Fifty thousand people rendered homeless!" Such is the dread intelligence proclaimed by the press. Food and cloth- ing are hastily gathered, trains are chartered, and the immediate wants of the sufferers are in a measure relieved.

The power for good or evil of the press, is to-day unlimited. The short comings of the politician are made known through its columns; the dark deeds of the wicked are exposed; and each fear it alike. The controlling influence of a Nation, State or county is its press, and the press of Floyd County is no exception to the rule.

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HISTORY OF FLOYD COUNTY.

CHARLES CITY INTELLIGENCER.

The first newspaper printed and published in Floyd County was the "St. Charles Republican Intelligencer." This journal was established, printed and owned by A. B. F. Hildreth and D. D. W. Carver, both experienced newspaper men. Their printing ma- terial was all new, purchased in New York City, and shipped thence to St. Charles in the spring of 1856. These men also bought in New York a chest of carpenter tools, with which, and with their own hands, they erected in St. Charles (now Charles City) what has ever since been known as the " Intelligencer Building," on the corner of Main and Kelly streets. Much of the lumber for this building they carried on their backs from the Kelly saw-mill at the foot of Main street.

On the 31st of July, 1856, the initial number of the Intelligencer made its appearance. It was a folio sheet, well edited, handsomely printed, and contained seven columns to the page. It had for its motto the often misquoted words of Bishop Berkley:

" Westward the course of empire takes its way."

The news spread over town that the paper was about to appear, and several persons desired to secure the first impression. As there could be but one sheet of this kind, and nearly one hundred people had assembled in front of the printing office, all eager for the news, the crowd shouted: "Set up the first paper at anction; we will bid on it." This request was complied with, after which the following paragraph was promptly inserted:

" We stop the press to publish that, so great was the rush and anxiety among our friends to secure the first copy (impression) of the St. Charles Republican Intelligencer, an auction was proposed, when Wm. Spencer, Esq., as auction er, struck off the same to the highest bidder for the handsome sum of $20. The lucky pur- chasers were Duncan Ferguson and G. B. Eastman, of the firm of Ferguson & Eastman, bankers, dealers in exchange and land agents, St. Charles, Floyd County, Ia."

Mr. Eastman was determined that the first impression of the first number should not go out of town, and having to bid against parties from Rockford, Ill., who had interests here, the price ran up to the fabulous sum named above.

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HISTORY OF FLOYD COUNTI.

At the close of the sale a large number of subscriptions were at once handed in, and the demand for extra copies exceeded any- thing of the kind previously experienced by these enterprising pub

During the first year of the publication of the Intelligencer its advertising patronage was so increased that, on Oct. 7, 1857, it was enlarged so as to give nine columns to the page, or thirty- six for the whole sheet. It was also given a new and beautiful heading. For this, Mr. Hildreth designed a very pretty vignette, having in the center the territorial seal of Iowa (a hawk with an arrow in his beak and a bow in his talons), and on either side of it emblems of the settlement of a new country-the emigrant wagon, farming tools, sheaves of grain, the flowing river, flouring mill, printing press, Indians' tents, and the red men gazing in astonishment upon the changed order of things. This design was engraved in Boston, and, with the entire heading, was electro- typed at an expense of $30.

The financial crisis that came upon the country in 1857, affected the business men of Floyd County as well as those of the Eastern States, and just as the Intelligencer had enlarged its capabilities for accommodating the business of the county, its patronage and support began to decline; but the size of the paper was never cut down, nor was there any falling off in the ability and interest of its editorial columns, as was the case a't that time with nearly all other Western newspapers. To maintain the present size and character of the Intelligencer required economy and money, and then its publication could only be continued at a loss, some years, of many hundreds of dollars. Fortunately Mr. Hildreth had the means to sustain himself in the arduous avocation. But his partner, Mr. Carver, became discouraged, and Aug. 1, 1859, sold out his interest in the paper to Mr. H., who conducted the business thereafter alone.

In January, 1862, the name of the paper was changed to,"Hil- dreth's Charles City Intelligencer." Business revived, and the paper prospered. From 1860, and during the succeeding nine years, the Intelligencer was appointed, by the General Govern- ment, as one of the papers in Iowa in which to publish the laws of Congress. It also had the printing of the State laws during that time. A review of its columns shows that it had an able corps of correspondents, in Japan and on the continent of Europe, as well as in Washington, New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chi-

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History of Floyd County, Iowa : together with sketches of its cities, villages and townships, educational, religious, civil, military, and political history; portraits of prominent persons, and biographies of representative citizens, Part 55

Author: Inter-state publishing co., Chicago Publication date: 1882 Publisher: Chicago : Inter-state publishing co. Number of Pages: 1168

Author: Inter-state publishing co., Chicago
Publication date: 1882
Publisher: Chicago : Inter-state publishing co.
Number of Pages: 1168