USA > Illinois > Tazewell County > Washington > Early history of Washington, Ill. and vicinity > Part 3
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patient grew worse. They summoned a doctor from Pekin in company with the doctors here, returned, made another ex- amination, and found that part of the ball had passed through the skull. Found it between the skull and lining of the brain. After removing the remainder of ball and piece of bone, the patient got well. Some thought the ball was split passing through the glass; others when it struck the skull bone. I should judge the latter. This young lady afterwards became the wife of George Gipson of El Paso. Sorry to say this ac- cident broke up the school. The teacher, (being a stranger), left for parts unknown.
When we came to this state in 1833 there were no In- dians here, but there were many signs of where they had had their wigwams; also many ladders sitting up against trees where they had cut holes in trees to catch coons and get honey. Their ladders were made thus:
They would cut a sapling and leave the natural limbs about one and one-half feet long for handholds, resting one end on the ground and the other against the tree. In speak- ing of Indians, when we came to Illinois I never saw any here, nor was I in the Black Hawk war, but I saw the old Indian chief, Black Hawk, in Richmond, Va., when they were on their way to Washington, D. C. That was in the summer of 1833. He was tall with a sharp, keen eye; had rings in his ears and one in his nose, and had a blanket around his shoulders, and was a fair representation of his picture. There was plenty of small game here of all kinds, but nothing larger than a deer. I have killed some of all kinds except a wild goose; I never could get one although I have shot at them flying, standing, far and near, with ball and shot, and in every instance I would make the feathers fly. I remember of my brother-in-law, J. Grove, and I going into the timber deer-hunting and we did not go very far until we got sight of one. It came up the hollow and when within one hundred and fifty years Grove shot and missed it. It ran direct to- ward us and Grove said, "Dave, shoot!" Snap. "Dave, shoot!" Snap. By this time it was within fifteen yards of me. "Dave, shoot!" Bang. It ran 125 yds. and fell. Grove got to it and caught it by the horns to hold it down; when I got there I jumped on it. No sooner on than off. It just sent me kiting; naturally stripped my overcoat and powder horn off of me. That was my first introduction, but we got it all the same; weighed 125 pounds. I had an old flint-lock rifle that came from Blue Ridge, Va., was at least fifty years old, but had killed more deer and bear than it was years old. I
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
must relate a trip that J. B. McCorkle and myself made to Washington, Washington county, Iowa, in 1839, eighteen miles from the Indian Territory. We went horse-back. We stopped with his uncle, John Berry, twelve miles west of the Mississippi river. Berry, wishing to entertain his company, concluded he must have some fresh meat, so he went out among his stock hogs saying he was fond of lean meat. Af- ter dressing it, said he, "this is the first hog-hide I ever salted down." Well, if you believe me, you could hold it up to the sun and read a newspaper through it, providing there had been a hole.
When we came to Washington, Iowa, we met a friend from Illinois. He invited us home with him, saying if you can fare as we do you are welcome. I answered I could put up with what any one else could. When we came to the house, it reminded me of a story about the traveler traveling west:
He came to a Hoosier's nest,
Or, in other words a buckide cabin;
Just large enough to hold queen madron.
He took the stranger's horse aside,
And to a sturdy sapling tied, And in stripping the saddle off He fed him in a sugar-trough.
The stranger stooped to enter in The entrance closing with a pin. It being his heart's desire To seat himself by a log heap fire. There he saw a half-dozen Hoosierons
With mush and milk, tea cup and spoons,
White heads, bare feet, and dirty faces,
All desired to keep their places. One side was lined with linen garments,
On the other side hung skins of var nents;
-
Over head pumpkins were strung
Where venison ham in plenty hung.
Two rifles were placed above the door,
Two big dogs stretching on the floor. And so forth and so on.
This cabin was not laden with venison, but like all new- commers just commencing a good big fire and the old lady spinning rolls on a little wheel. The family consisted of two ยท old people, two young ladies, two young men, two children, my friend and 1. There was only one bed in the house. I did not know how we could all sleep. Only one room and that so small, had to move the table out doors after each
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
meal. For supper we had no coffee, but instead we had po- tato soup in tin cups with spoons in each. My friend sipped his, found no coffee and pushed it back. I was all right for I was fond of potato soup. Presently the old gentleman came in with gun, prairie chicken and a wallet of corn meal; had been to a hand mill. That evening passed off by the old man telling hunting stories. He said one time he shot a squirrel in the head; it fell from the tree, jumped up and ian up the tree (quack quack) ; he shot again when lo! and behold he had shot its brains out the first shot. I told him I did not dispute his word, but that was a big story to tell. At another time he killed an oppossum, stripped the hide off and threw it away. It jumped up and ran off. I again told him that I did not dispute his word, but that was a big story to tell. Finally it came bed time. They had a knack of stow- ing them away; first, two children in the foot of the bed, then two old folks occupied the rest of that bed. What next ? The girls made a pallet on the floor for my friend and I. There was about four feet of my friend run out at the foot. I, being short, was all right. I got between him and the fire. The girls drew out a trundle bed and occupied that. The young men went up a ladder, near the comb; two poles were laid across one end of the cabin with clapboards laid on; had a bunk there. Next morning we had horse-mint tea for breakfast. My friend let his tea stand; we then struck for home. He said he would rather pay $2.50 for lodging than to have that for nothing.
In the spring of 1842 Mr. John Brady and myself made a trip to Augusta county, Va., on horse-back. We were on the road three weeks, and it cost us only $15, and we did not steal either, but we sponged off our friends. We imagined we could not travel unless we carried a weapon of defense, so I traded a load of corn for a brace of pistols about six inches long, (you may know they were dangerous). We car- ried them loaded until we reached Indianapolis, Indiana, with- out any occasion to use them. We concluded to shoot them off, fearing they might rust. We made a mark on a large gum tree from five to six feet through, went five paces back, fired two shots, missed the gum. Brady said we might as well throw them away; if we could not hit as large a mark we could not hit a man. We never reloaded them. I re- mained in Virginia until fall, returning with brother, Benja- min, when he moved to Illinois in 1842.
I was married January 13, 1844, to Elizabeth McCord. Five children, Virginia, Eliza Jane, Missouri, Laura and Marian. In April, 1856, my wife died, leaving me with five
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
small children. In the year 1857 I was again married to Miss Ellen Conn of Fayette county, Penn. Before I was first mar- ried I broke prairie four summers with four yoke of oxen to one plow, improving my farm and breaking for others. Those days we would steal our timber for rails from Uncle Sam; every one would steal in Illinois. I have even known preachers to steal, and after we had our land bought we would chop off of congress land and save our own.
I built a log house, 14x16, of split logs. We had one room on the ground and one-half room above. I daubed it with black mud. When the winds would blow and rains descend, the mud would come out on the floor dab, dab. Sometimes we would have a lot to carry out and daub again. We lived in that house six years, and in 1851 I built the house I now live in. That was the season the cholera was so fatal. There were over forty deaths in Worth township that season. In 1853 I bought 80 acres of prairie land which cost $3.00 per acre. That was cheaper than the $1.25 land. Late in 1860 I bought 160 acres for $12.50 per acre. I paid that easier than the $3.00 land. Then in 1866 I bought 80 acres for $26.00 per acre, being still cheaper. Broke and sowed in spring wheat 50 acres; raised 730 bushels, which sold in 1867 at $3.121/2 per bushel, just paying for the land. In the fall of 1866 I went to Kansas and bought 800 acres, paying $500. Late, I traded for 640 acres in Green- wood county, Kan., costing me 35 cents per acre; also four acres in the city of Fort Scott, Kan., for $550. Later, I bought a farm one and one-half miles from Fort Scott for $4,000, just as rich land as where I live, and as level. Now I have 160 acres in Hayes county, Neb. Have all the land I want, and more than my children can keep the weeds down.
I will relate another incident. A. Cress, Jacob Grove and myself went to the rope ferry, four miles north of Peoria, fishing. Willy Parker was attending the ferry, so Grove and Cress attended the ferry while Parker gigged fish for us. We got a fine lot of fish, among them being a white perch. When we took them out of the skiff, John Lowman happened there. He remarked that we had a sheep head among the lot. Said I: Are they better than buffalo? He said not so good. When we came to divide the fish I proposed each man pick his fish. Said I: Cress, you are the oldest man; you take your choice. Well, he lit on that sheep head like a duck on a June bug. He took his fish home and said: Now, wife, I want you to cook that white fish when we are all alone. She did so. He took one bite. Chew, chew; wife, why did you not cook that good fish? Said she: Is that
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
not good ? He said no; the more I chew it the bigger it gets. Ever after that he knew what a sheep head was. At one time Jacob Wilson gigged us fifty fish, weighing twelve lbs. a piece, for $1.25. He was the best fish spearer on the river.
In the fall of 1855-6 A. Cress, Dr. Wenger and myself made a trip to Iowa with a two-horse wagon and a one-horse buggy, to buy land. We went as far as Ringold county which was very thinly settled. We were on the frontier. One night we camped in the timber within one-half mile of the Indian village. The majority of them had gone further west on their fall hunt, but had left a few of their people to look after their village and traps. We did not know how many were left, or should they molest us or not. After we were in camp two hours, we heard a noise as if something walk- ing. Limbs would snap, and our dog made considerable fuss. Cress said: Boys, Indians. Said he, boys you think we can stand them a fight if attacked? Dr. Wenger said: I think we had better beg. Cress said each one must take a weapon. We slept in the wagon. Cress took his pop-gun and butcher knife, Dr. Wenger the axe, and I the shot gun. Cress told it when we came home that Kindig and Wenger just slept and snored, and he had to keep awake to stand guard. Wen- ger said we were not as afraid to die (as you.) We were out of provision, so next morning we drove to the village all vacated by Indians, but they left a more numerous popula- tion in the shape of fleas. We stopped at the door of a hut. The fleas commenced crawling up our boots. Was so frosty and cold they could not jump, and we could easily outrun them.
I must tell you how they built their wigwams. Placed ploes in the ground, as making a prairie stable, and put poles through the center. The sides are six feet high. They cov- ered the sides with bark from elm trees; also the roof by placing the rough side of the bark to the sun. They cut holes in the bark, tying it to the poles. Cut the bark five or six feet high, some two, four and six feet wide. Cover like shingles, lap over each other. I saw where they had just one bark for the door, six feet high and five feet wide, all in one piece. They would put a pole (on the inside) all along one side of their wigwams, about six feet wide, lay sticks and brush across, then they would lie crosswise. One house was 15x20 feet, with a hole in the top and a fire in the cen- ter. They never put their feet to the fire, but sit down on them like a goose. Make a small fire that they may get close to it. When they leave they sweep all trash away from
.
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
the village and burn the grass several rods away to prevent the prairie fire from burning up their town. We found some corn in their truck patch. The way they enclose their lots is by cutting poles, tying them to trees and posts with bark. They cultivate the timber land, as it is much easier to dig with the hoe. The women have all that kind of work to do. When they leave to go on a hunting expedition they hide their cooking utensils where a white man can not find them. Some say they hide them in the mud in the bottom of the creek. We found where they had buried their corn. We also found some vacant land. We entered fourteen eighties. The land office was a Clarinden, Iowa.
I will relate a little incident happening on our return home. As we were coming down a hill, Wenger and Cress were in the buggy. There was a crab-apple bush under the horse, and he was about to run. Cress said, "hold him," and 1 will jump out and catch him. He had the gun when he jumped. He said his foot caught and he fell with his head under the buggy. Wenger got the horse stopped just in time to stop the wheel square on Cress' head. "Hello," the buggy wheel is on my head. If he had not drove off he would be there yet.
Another incident happened Cress, We were washing sheep. My brother, Henry, was on his way to mill. Cress said, "Henry, help us. I do not like to go into the water, as I have sore eyes. I will give you my clothes." So he agreed. We had the sheep penned between the creek and the fence. Cress would catch the sheep and throw them in. the creek. We had dammed the water about four feet, so the sheep had the bank wet and slippery. We were replacing the rails on the fence. Cress was carrying a large rail up the bank when his hind foot slipped back and he went back- wards, "souse," into the creek with rail across his breast, holding his head under the water, where it was more "green" than clear. We heard a terrible splashing, looked and saw him kicking for life, but he lived to get home. Then his wife went for him for going into the water. Those days were pleasant days.
In the year 1852 there was a man by the name of Rhodes living on the farm owned of late by William Gale, north of where Simon Thomas lives. He was sick with a fever. On one Tuesday night he got up, stole out and ran off. They hunted three days for him and found him one-half mile south of Germantown, Ill. A boy was hunting cows and found him. He was alive, but had on no clothing and the sun had blis-
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
tered his hide. This was on Friday about an hour after sun- set. And, remarkable to state, he got well.
I will relate a trip made by Jacob Grove and myself, in the fall of '39 or '40, to Chicago with two ox teams, seven yoke of oxen. Our loads consisted of wheat, apples, onions, etc. We deppled among the Irish along the railroad at Peru and the canal. Some of their houses were a novelty, some covered with long slough grass and others with troughs- trees cut and split, then dug out similar to sheep troughs. Two troughs were laid with the bark down and one laid over (where the troughs met) with the bark up. Very few have seen such. They made a good roof. At one time an Irish lady wanted a nice fat "foul" for a sick "mon." Grove got a nice fat hen. "Now and I won't hove 'him.' I want a big 'won.'" Then he got the oldest crower he had. She said, "that is a big fat 'won' for a sick 'mon.'" In paying she kept back part of the money. I tell you they are hard hands to deal with. I had a large wagon, one we moved in from Vir- ginia, called prairie steamboat. One Irishman went behind and spoke through his hands, saying: "Ha-hoo steamboat! Where you bound for? Captain, are you the mate? What will ye charge a single 'mon,' his wife and 'sax' children pas- sage to Chicago, and give him twice a day of the 'swate crature' that nourishes the 'sowl' of an Irishman ?"
They would agree to take three or four bushels of meal to get it cheaper. Then when you would deliver it they would only take one bushel.
Well, we got twenty miles north of Ottawa. We always unyoked the cattle at night and let them graze until morn- ing. One morning we were minus ten head. We hunted three days. "Nix coom arouse." Well, we went on to Chi- cago with two yoke of oxen and two wagons. Grove said we would go or die trying. Grove took the ague and had it every day until we reached home, that being three weeks. I had both teams to drive. We took two wagons as we could not load all on one. We would hitch one wagon behind the other and sometimes have one yoke to each wagon. First day we reached ten miles. When we got to Joliet it rained. We only drove one mile that day. When we got to hills we would have to pull one wagon up, then the other, and one ox was balky. But when we had to depend on him he never flinched. When we got within twelve miles of Chicago we met Jona- than Reed, who lived then on Asa Brown's farm now owned by Witmer Kern, Washington and Morely. They were haul- ing lumber from Chicago to Ottawa. They had two four- horse teams. Reed took a part of our load and we left one
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
wagon. We then glided into Chicago. We grazed our cattle at the north and south forks of the Chicago river, now the heart of the city. When we left the city we loaded seven barrels of salt at $4.50 per barrel, worth $7 here, and two sacks of coffee. By the time we arrived at our other wagon, twelve miles from the city, one ox gave out. Reed took one barrel of salt on his load of lumber; said they would meet us at Holderman's grove to camp, but they failed to get there that night on account of being sloughed. We all camped at Ottawa. They returned to Chicago. Grove had an old jackscrew to grease wagons and to help out of sloughs. Reed wanted to borrow it, but Grove told him that it was a borrowed one and he could not loan it. So that night Reed stole it. We could not find it next morning. Morely said: "Look in R-e-e-d's w-a-g-o-n; look in R-e-e-d's w-a-g-o-n." But Grove said: "I can not look in a man's wagon who has befriended us." Then we separated. They went to Chicago and we towards home. We had to ford the Illinois river two miles south of Ottawa. When we got to the river Grove was so sick that he laid down on the grass. I thought he would die. There was a very steep bank to go down into the river, the water being four feet deep. We had one team to each wagon, so we lashed one wagon to the axle of the other with a log chain. Grove said when you get down in the river whip up your oxen to give room for mine, so we went down in a rush, but when they checked the other team came down in a rush also. They tried to run past, but the chain hook caught on the hind wheel (being high wheels) and carried the oxen up so high they were hanging by their necks, with tongues out and nearly choking. I jumped out in the water and ran back. Grove crawled out on the tongue with the ax to cut the keys. Just then one of the oxen, being unruly, drew his head through the bow that let the other end down. We straightened out, drove him under, yoked him in the river and then went on rejoicing and glad we were alive.
We returned home after being gone twenty-one days. In a reasonable time we returned on a hunt for our cattle. We went up the Illinois river, Fox river, all over the prairie, to LaSalle and Peru. At one time we met a darkey. He says, "Massa, if you get on a hos' and peruse de bottoms all ober guess you'll fine 'em." The same night we returned home one ox was at home in father's stock yard. We then con- cluded the others were not stolen.
In a short time Benjamin Ayers, an old settler, was on a hunt of some cattle he lost driving to Chicago. He found and brought all of our cattle home. We lost more than we
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made that trip, but were glad to get our oxen. We intended hauling goods from Chicago to Lacon at $4.00 per hundred. There was where we intended making our money. Those were happy days. I sold my wheat at 45 cents per bushel. Later, I took a load of wheat and got 621/2 cents per bushel. I returned with a load of lumber to build the inside of the brick mill at Washington, now owned by the Andrews Bros. There was not much change in the program until the canal was finished, then corn raised to 20 cents per bushel at Spring Bay. We then thought we were making money like dirt. Could then sell a three-year-old steer for $10, but we have got nearly back to those days in prices. Oh, yes; Reed made a few more trips with the jackscrew, when Grove went after it. He said "he found it." Two Irishmen were greasing their wagon. He told them that was "his" jack. They would not give it up, so he knocked one down with a stone and the other run, and "he" got it, but afterwards gave it to Grove.
I will now tell you a fish story. In 1854 a company of us went to Spring Bay fishing with a seine, or rather to as- sist Seers, a Peoria fisherman. The seine was seven hundred and thirty yards long. We made a draw, caught 1,300 buffalo weighing from ten to fifteen pounds each. Next day we made another draw, and lo! we caught 2,200; that filled his live boat and we had all the fish we wanted. A. Cress said to the boy: "Bub," what do you feed your fish when you get to Peoria ? (M-o-l-a-s-s-e-s). Cress had no more to say.
The first prairie D. Kindig had broke on his homestead cost him $3.00 per acre. That seems high breaking the soil, when land only cost him $1.25 per acre. His homestead to- day, 1890, would sell for about $100.00 per acre.
In the spring of 1867 my wife and I made a visit to her birthplace in Fayette county, Pa. Spent some time with friends, thence took passage in a steamboat on the Monon- gehela river, ninety miles, to Pittsburg, Pa. Our fare, board and lodging to Pittsburg only cost $5.00 for both of us. Thence to Lancaster county, Pa., arriving at Lancaster coun- ty on the 2nd of July. Harvest ripe for the sickle, (as I thought), but they let it stand two weeks before cutting, un- til the heads hung down, and the grains would snap in your teeth, for the reason they hauled it in the barn the same day they cut it, and it had to be ripe. One day, as we were pass- ing through the country where they were harvesting, I saw a boy, with a horse and sulky rake, in the standing wheat, raking. Said I to my uncle: "What is that boy doing in the wheat ?" "Said he was just raking the lodged grain up so the
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EARLY HISTORY OF WASHINGTON, ILL.
reaper could catch it. That was a new idea to me. Thought I would try it when I got home. So I did try it in oats, but would not work. At one time I went into the field where they were reaping wheat. The old gentleman was driving, cutting, gee around; when he got to the end I noticed he got off the reaper, took the horses by the bridles and squared them around, then went back on the reaper; also at the next corner, and so one until he came around where we were. I remarked to him, you take it tedious to get off and turn your horses. Oh, yes, but if I had my other horse, he would turn. I told him "that" was a good horse. All you lacked was double lines. He had been driving with one line and (what they call) a jockey stick tied to the off horse. He said he was all right with his other horse. I said I could go to the timber, get some hickory bark and make a pair of checks in a few minutes, then you could yank them around. Well, he remarked, we do not have check lines. The boy said, "Father, go with these men to the house, we will cut the grain."
At another time I was at one of my uncles. He had 50 acres of land, five head of horses and two wagons. His four- horse wagon weighed 2,200 empty, harness weighed 200 pounds apiece. I said: "Uncle, you have no use for so many horses, such harness and wagons. Now, if you had one of our Yankee wagons and harness you would hitch on the small wagon nine times out of ten, and the tenth time you would hitch on the small wagon.
Land was selling then at $300, $400 and $600 per acre. I saw one farm sell at $600 per acre, but the farms are not so large as in Illinois, although their buildings are three times as large. All stone and brick houses and barns; all bank barns. I could put four barns like mine in one of theirs and then not be full. My uncle said he was offered $300 per acre for his farm. I advised him to sell and come west. I told him I could buy him 160 acres prairie and 20 acres timber for $10,000 and then have $5,000 left. He said he could make more money there on 50 acres than I could in Illinois on 160 acres. I said, Uncle, how much do you sell your wheat for? $3.25 per bushel. How much for corn? $1.00 per bushel. This was in 1867. I told him I sold my wheat at $3.121/2 cents per bushel, corn at 90 cents and your market is not much better. He could not see it, of course. Said this would make two nice farms, 25 acres each. The country is one vast village. The most beautiful country I ever saw, but they are, or was then, 50 years behind the times.
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