History of Hancock County, Illinois, together with an outline history of the State, and a digest of State laws, Part 45

Author: Gregg, Thomas, b. 1808. [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1880
Publisher: Chicago, C.C. Chapman
Number of Pages: 1046


USA > Illinois > Hancock County > History of Hancock County, Illinois, together with an outline history of the State, and a digest of State laws > Part 45


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When the draft was about coming, one "JERRY SCROGGS," not having the fear of it before him, published in the local paper the following jeu d'esprit:


THE DRAFT.


O, don't you see the draft is coming, boys ? And sure there's no use now in running, boys ! O, not a bit-O, not a whit Of use is there at all in running, boys. All ye Smiths, from Charles to Fred ; All ye Browns, from A to Zed ; Omen Quinn and Patrick Flynn


Ned O'Bryan, Michael Ryan,- Just skin your eye, and don't you cry- For sure enough the draft is coming, boys.


· Uncle Sam-bless his soul !- is calling, boys ! Don't you hear? 'Tis SAM-U-EL that's calling, boys! And not a whit-never a bit


Will you stand back when Sam is calling, boys. All ye Clarks and all ye Howells, All ye Thompsons, all ye Powells,


All ye Rivers, Fords and Floods, All ye Forests, Groves and Woods, Be ye ready-ever ready- To answer to the call of Samuel, boys.


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The country's banner high is waving, boys! The country's life is worthy saving, boys! Far in the sky that flag must fly, And ever there you'll keep it waving, boys ! All ye Delaplains and Dillons, All ye McNultys and McMillans, All the Austins and Adairs, All the Butlers and the Blairs, Gerard Nollen, Patrick Dolan, William Fields and Jimmy Shields,- Keep-keep your eye up to the sky, And keep that flag forever waving, boys!


Dec. 25, 1863. JERRY SCROGGS.


No apology is offered for writing-and none for publishing in this connection-the following, written during the dark days of 1864:


RUTH;


A POEM OF THE REBELLION, By Thomas Gregg.


To hose who recognize in the lessons of the Past and the tokens of the Present, promise of a glorious Future for our beloved country, and especially to those heart-stricken ones who mourn the sacrifices laid upon the Country's Altar, this humble tribute is respectfully inscribed.


I.


Grandma Ruth, in her easy chair, Sat plying her needles bright, While by her side lay Harry, the pet, In the taper's cheerful light. And cach to her evening task, there bent, Were Sarah, and Jane, and Sue- These, father and mother, John and James, Composed that household true.


Without, the broken clouds drove past, Beneath a moon-lit sky; And giant shadows, in phantom forms, Stalked through the forest by. At intervals the big drops fell, A-pattering on the pane, Borne on the tempest's fitful blast- The chilling April rain.


Grandma sat humming a good old tune, And still her needles plied ; "Poor boy !" she said, as the little form Lay sleeping at her side. Her thoughts had flown to far-off scenes, Full many a year before, When she, a little bright-eyed girl, Dwelt on Potomac's shore.


And so she hummed her olden tune,- The hymn that long before She had sung so oft in the old church choir, On that remembered shore. She hummed away, and the stitches flew, The needles faster plied,- " Poor boy ! I wonder if he'll ever know How his great-grandpa died!"


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And then upon her wrinkled hands Her head she gently leant, And a silver lock, from out her cap, In shining wavelets bent. Forgotten, in her spacious lap, Her work neglected lay ; Her thoughts were busy with the scenes Of her early childhood's day.


Her home, her friends,-the present, all,- Had faded from her sight; These, with their dear realities, Had taken wings in flight. The dead of eighty years before In magic column stood ; The deeds of eighty years rolled on, In a tumultuous flood.


The scenes of eighty years ago- The hamlet by the main, The grass-plot and the old school-house, Rose to her sight again. And, oh! her childhood's early home, How vividly it came ! The well, the grove, the rippling rill, - The same, ah ! still the same !


Still in that home in loveliness, Each form transfigured stood; The mother, in her modest robes- The beautiful, the good. The sister's easy, gentle grace, The brother's manly form, The father, idol of her heart, The babe, with lip so warm.


She thought of him, her father dear, IIer glory and her pride ; How, at his country's call he went, And for his country died ! And those after years of agony, Of penury and of pain, Now, in her second childhood's hour, She lived all o'er again.


She stood with him on battle-fields Stained red with human gore, And with him trod, through wintry blasts, Full many an ice-bound shore; She marched with him, for weary months, On many a hard campaign, With bleeding feet and sun-burnt brow, Through storm, and snow, and rain !


On Bunker's Heights with him she stood, And then at Bennington ; With him his battles nobly fought, With him his victories won! On Saratoga's gory plain At Princeton's well-fought field, She saw the foeman bite the dust, She saw the foeman yield !


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She saw again that brother bold, When captured by the foe ; She saw that sister's flowing tears- . That mother's deepest woe; Because he would not bend the knee, And Freedom's cause deny,- Because he would not to King-Craft bow They led him forth to die !


That father once again appeared, As, when at even-tide, The battle's bloody contest o'er, Down near the brooklet's side They found him-dead, and stiff, and pale ; From many a ghastly wound His blood had flown in livid streams, And crimsoned o'er the ground.


II.


Thus grandma sat but, hark ! a sound ! The cannon's deep-toned roar Breaks in upon their solitude, And swells along the shore! THE NEWS OF SUMTER !- like a shock, Has startled all the land ! THE DEED OF SUMTER! black and foul ! Has nerved each Freeman's hand !


Full long the Southern breeze liad borne Defiance on its wings, And loyal hearts full long been filled With grave imaginings. One thought now fills each patriot breast, One impulse fires each soul- The desolating scourge of war Must o'er the traitor roll!


"Go forth !" the aged woman spoke- Her grandsons at her side; "Go forth !" 't was in just such a cause My good old father died ! Gird on your armor, boys, and go! Be valiant in the fight ; Your Country calls her loyal sons TO BATTLE FOR THE RIGHT!


" That flag, which nearly fourscore years, Has floated o'er the land, Must not lie trailing in the dust, By coward traitors' hand ! Go, boys! and bear that banner high ! Your Country's call obey ! The blood of Revolutionary sires Must show itself to-day !"


And there went out unnumbered hosts- Poured forth stout-hearted men From every sunny hillside home- From every mountain glen. And, marshalled on a hundred fields, Were heroes marching on ; And bristling bayonets flashed their light Beneath each morning sun.


. 1


E. Fratele


HANCOCK Tp.


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From where Penobscot pours his flood, By Saco's rushing tide- From Susquehanna's fertile vales, Where Hudson's waters glide ;- From Mississippi's sounding shore, From Ohio's placid wave,- Rushed forth a thousand valiant bands, The Nation's life to save!


With sword and musket, lance and steel, They gird them for the fight; They go, in Heaven's name, to wage The Battle of the Right! . They go to teach the traitor hordes The majesty of law! They go-and at their martial tread The Nations stand in awe !


The plow is left to rust its share- The reaper lieth still ; Uncared, the cattle rove the fields, And silent stands the mill ; And peaceful skies look down from where The smoke of steamer rose, And plain, and vale, and hillside home, Lie wrapped in deep repose.


III.


Three years have past! and Grandma's form Is bowing to the grave; And James and John, those stalwart boys, Sleep 'neath Kanawha's wave; And thousand true hearts, such as theirs Have poured their richest blood To mingle with the Hatteras sands, Or tinge Tal'hatchie's flood.


And on a hundred battle plains Dead corpses bleeding lie, And maimed and sickened foemen writhe Beneath the arching sky. And twice ten thousand widowed wives Are left to mourn their fate ; And thrice ten thousand happy homes Are rendered desolate!


And War, the Demon, drives his car O'er plain, and hill, and dale; And Carnage gluts his thirst for blood In many a sunny vale. And Wrong, and Hate, and Treason, still Their flaunting flag furl wide; And bold Defiance, blind with rage, Strikes out on every side !


But GOD, who sends the earthquake's shock, The tempest's fiery wrath, And bids the dread sirocco bring Destruction in its path,- WILL RULE THIE EVIL STILL FOR GOOD, And heal the Nation's woe ! Lo! now against the curtained East, SEE! SEE! THE PROMISE-BOW!


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IV


Grandma, as in that April night, Sits by the chimney place ; And, as before, her wrinkled hands Still shield her aged face. She musing sits. But visions now Of future prospects rise ; Turned from the past with grief away, She scans the coming skies.


She musing sits. For her no more Potomac's waters run- No more for her the Blue Ridge peaks Smile 'neath the morning sun. No more the strife of Shiloh's fight- The blood at Malvern Hill, - Or carnage on a hundred fields, Her mind with horrors fill.


But far away, on Time's broad sea, The opening years uprise ; Whose rolling waves, in vistas clear, Blend with th' encircling skies. The vistas sweep around-expand, The shadows roll away, The golden tints of morning burst Into effulgent day.


A vast expanse looms up to view From Equatorial sea, And from Atlantic's surge, to where Pacific's waves roll free ; O'er plain and mountain, lake and vale, O'er pebbly-margined river, The beams of Peace triumphant smile, And Freedom's sunbeams quiver!


No more the wail of woe is heard, No more the clank of chain; No more the dusky bondmen bow Beneath their load of pain. No more the traitor dares to act A parricidal part, Nor reaches forth his bloody hand, To strike the Nation's heart !


But plenty, joy, and love, abound ! Schools, churches, cities, rise ! The hum of industry ascends, And echoes through the skies ! And MAN stands forth, at length, redeemed From power of brother Man ; And EQUAL RIGHTS is writ anew, In GOD'S ETERNAL PLAN !


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CONCLUSION.


When the Rebellion began, no one expected it to be of long con- tinuance. Even President Lincoln seemed to hold the prevalent opinion that the 75,000 men first called for would be ample to put it down. And they would have been amply sufficient had all who were not engaged in it been true to their country and their flag. Had it been realized that it would require more than a million of men and a sacrifice of two hundred thousand lives to subdue it, the whole people would have stood aghast with horror; and had these results been foreseen, it surely would never have been begun.


But now. after the lapse of years, we are enabled to comprehend the causes for its long continuance. We can now more fully realize that, though inaugurated by the violence and fraud of the few, against the wislies and sober judgment of the many, it was the aid and support it received elsewhere, coupled with the "fire in the rear" that raged " all along the line," that contributed largely to its four years' duration.


Hancock county stood abreast with her sisters in furnishing the complement of men required, in answer to the various calls for vol- unteers; yet it cannot be concealed that she, too, contained citizens whose sympathies were with the Stripes and Bars. This fact was made more apparent toward the close of the struggle, during the dark days of 1864. And while stern justice demands that these things should be made matters of history, we shrink from the task of recording them, preferring that the sea of oblivion shall hide them, and unwilling to cast even a pebble into the waters whose troubles have subsided. Be it enough that the Stars and Stripes still wave.


We would, if we could, record the many patriotic efforts of our people to furnish supplies to the soldiers in hospital and field, and the many noble acts of self-sacrifice to that end. Suffice it to say, that the citizens all over the county vied with each other to aid in the cause, and thousands upon thousands were contributed in pro- visions, clothing and money, for that purpose, and sent to the front. Great credit is due to the noble women everywhere, for their efforts; and many thanks and many a prayer went up from the " boys" in hospital and camp in behalf of their sisters and friends at home. Lo, these things, are they not all written in the great book of human account!


We must not omit to state that, after several efforts to pass orders in behalf of drafted and substitute men and their families, one was finally passed and put into effect, appropriating $120,000 for that purpose, and disbursed by an agent in depreciated county orders.


CHAPTER XXIV.


MISCELLANEOUS.


LA MOINE RIVER.


Crooked creek, in the east part of the county, is on some of the old maps called La Moine river,-said to signify River of the Monk. Whether the name had the same or a similar origin with that of the Des Moines river, which empties into the Mississippi opposite Fort Edwards, we are unable to say. And of the origin of its name there are two statements; which is the correct one might require even a learned Frenchman to decide. One is, that the name is an abbreviation of Moingonas, a tribe of Indians who inhabited the country. £ Another, that the French term La Riviere des Moines, is a translation of Ke-ish-shaw-qua's sepo, the river of the man who lives alone; such a man having been found on its banks many moons ago, when the Sacs and Foxes settled there. This the French pioneers interpreted as the river of the monk.


ANECDOTE OF AMZI DOOLITTLE.


A correspondent tells the following story : "Mr. Doolittle was a thorough-going, energetic man, vet kind-hearted and true. But he was a most inveterate, profane swearer. An incident is told about him that illustrates this habit. He was at Quincy attend- ing to some business, and as usual, was letting off a string of oaths at every other breath. A man, who was in an adjoining room, hearing Mr. Doolittle going on, and the door being partly open, ob- served in Mr. D.'s hearing that he beat any person swearing he ever heard, except one man, and that was Amzi Doolittle, of Appa- noose. This, of course, was a poser to Mr. D., and on his way home he reflected on the matter and decided to turn over a new leaf, which he did, and subsequently joined the Baptist Church."


SOME PONTOOSUC PIONEERS.


Thomas Harris-Settled in seven north, seven west, in 1833; was a native of Kentucky. Horse thieves sometimes prowled around, and occasionally got off with a good une. Mrs. Harris owned two very fine mares, and several attempts had been made by a well- known bad man, who lived in the woods on the river bluff, but had failed. However, one dark night he concluded he must have one of the mares. Mr. Harris had taken the precaution to tie them


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close to his cabin door, but this did not deter the thief from trying to stampede them. The horses making an effort to break away, waked the owner, and he rushed out, rifle in hand, and fired at random. He then tied them close to the door and lay down to sleep again. But the ardor of the rascal did not abate. Waiting till near two o'clock, he once more crept up, and began to untie the horses, but they received him with a snort. This time Mr. Harris was fully aroused, and seizing his gun, he aimed a blow at the persistent thief, which sent him away howling through the woods. His horses were molested no more.


Mr. Harris has now reached the ripe old age of 84, in good health, and bids fair to be a centenarian.


Johnson C. Clark-Was a native of Indiana; emigrated to this county in 1832. During the Indian troubles he settled on section 10, 7 n, 7 w; was the husband of two wives, by whom he had eleven children each-22 in all ! He was appointed by the War Department to build a block house or small fort at Spillman's Landing (now Pontoosnc), and in the discharge of this duty he was assisted by Hezekiahi Spillman and Andrew Deboneyer. Mr. Clark, who wasa man of courage, would mount the fort, swing his old white hat, cheer for Gen. Jackson, and curse the red-skins; then down into the trench again, would work away with pick and shovel, throwing up breast-works; all the while telling the men they must work or the red-skins would get their hair.


Mr. Clark lived to the advanced age of 85.


Elijah Pease-Emigrated from Ohio in 1834, and settled in the timber near Mr. Harris. He was of the old Baptist school, some- times known as the " Iron Jackets," and was noted for his honesty and fair dealing. So much did this trait mark his character that he was known as " honest old Elijah." An incident occurred dur- ing the latter period of his life which characterizes that trait of his nature. He was owing a man in Adams county the sum of $11, or, at least, supposed he was. The hard times of 1837 prevented him from discharging the debt at the time it was due; but as soon as he got enough money together, he called on Esq. Mendenhall, then living five miles distant, and requested him to take the money and pay the man, Mr. M. being in the habit of attending the land sales at Quiney. Mr. M. took the money, but on his visit to Quincy could learn nothing of the man anywhere in the county. The money was returned to Mr. P., who expressed sincere regret, but the man could never be found.


SPELLING SCHOOLS


had their day, or nights, among the early settlers. Common schools were yet searce in the sparsely settled sections; but the hardy men and women of toil were ever ready to make up for any laek of improvement. So, in a circuit of ten or fifteen miles, the few young men and women would assemble in the winter time, once


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or twice a week, at a designated house, and spend a few hours at spelling, words given either from a small dictionary or Webster's old spelling-book. This was an amusement of a three-fold benefit. First, it was instructive; second, it served to pass away the long winter nights, and to vary the monotony of frontier life; and, third, it served as an auxiliary to courting by the young folks, and the laying of plans for future business in that direction. The youth of to-day know little of the luxury of sparking in the winter time, by a huge hickory-wood fire, in a one-story, one-room log cabin, with nine children sprawling around watching, and the old woman quietly knitting, and the old man quietly nodding, with one eye open, in the chimney corners. Things are sadly changed now!


THE LOST CHILD.


Every county, almost every neighborhood, has a story of a lost child. Here is one from the bluffs of Camp creek:


Early in the spring of 1835. Michael Hildebrand removed from near Quincy and settled on the Camp creek bluffs, near the farm now owned and occupied by O. S. Avery. The country was wild, and settlers were few and far between. The dusky form of the red man was frequently seen, and ferocions wild beasts were plenty.


Mr. H. cleared a patch of ground. fenced it in and put up a log cabin near a spring some 80 rods from his little field. He had planted his patch in corn, potatoes, pumpkins, etc., and as the autumn days drew nigh, it furnished him and his small family of three children with roasting ears and the various kinds of vegetables for the table. Several times Mrs. Hildebrand would take her eldest daughter, then six years old, and go to the field to get supplies for the table; little Sarah, or "Sallie," as she was called, thus learned the way to the field.


One day, whilst her mother was very busy about her household duties, little Sallie, who was playing in the yard, took it into her head to go to the field for roasting ears. No sooner had she con- ceived the idea than she put it in execution. Starting to the field alone and unnoticed by her mother, she arrived there, plucked a green cucumber and an ear of corn, and started on her return, but missed her way, and became lost in the woods and underbrush. Mrs. H. did not miss her little one for some time, thinking all the time she was playing in the yard with her trinkets. On going to the door, and not seeing her. she began calling her by name. Not receiving any answer, she hurried around the house and yard, exam- ining the play-house and accustomed haunts of the little girl, but still no response. At this the mother became very much alarmed, calling frantically for her dear child. The cries of alarm reached the ears of her husband, who was at work in the woods not far away. Coming to her at once, and learning the facts, both parents joined in the search for the child. Every nook and corner was rigidly searched. By this time the cries and callings of the dis-


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tracted parents were heard by a neighbor passing by. Coming to their assistance, and learning the facts, he immediately set off to call the few settlers around the country.


The child was missed about ten o'clock A. M .. and by night quite a number of settlers were searching through the woods for the lost one; but no tidings or signs could be had. A brief consultation was held, and it was decided to continne the search through the night, with lanterns and torches, while two or three, on good horses, should carry the news to the nearest settlers, and ask their aid. The general conclusion was, that the child had been either carried off by some savage beast, or by Indians.


It was very distressing to see the poor parents call for their lost one. The mother had called and rambled through the woods, until she fell to the ground from mere exhaustion. Although tenderly urged and cared for by the neighboring women, she would not sit down and take rest. As the night wore on, a slight rain came on; then it was that the agony of the mother was unbounded-" My child ! my poor child ! in this rain,-every drop of which pierces my heart like a dagger !" The women in attendance urged her to shut the door and keep the chill air out. "No !" she replied, "open wide the door; place a bright light on the table; open the window; perhaps my child may see the light and come to it."


But the child was too far away to see any light. Toward the dawn of day the mother seemed to despair of finding her child, and gradually sunk under it. Her cries became low moanings and mutterings. Frequently she would call her darling to her, and then endeavor to full it to sleep in her arms; and then she would start up with a wild cry of "O, where is my child ! Have you found my child ?"


The sturdy pioneers kept up the search all night long, but with no success. Morning at length dawned, and with it came a hun- dred or more of men to join in the search. The men who had gone out to tell the news traveled hard and all night, sparing not their horses, and by morning a circuit of thirty miles had been alarmed. The trusty rifle was the companion of the pioneer in those days; and no one was often away from home without his shot-pouch, powder horn and tried firelock.


Another consultation was held at seven o'clock, and a plan of search agreed upon by the company. Many expressed their fears that, if found at all, the child would be dead. It was agreed to make a more thorough search of the corn patch, and then the woods around. On examination, some little prints of the child's feet were seen, as though coming out of the plowed ground. This trail was taken up, but soon lost again.


It was agreed that if she was found a gun was to be fired. The search went on until the sun had nearly attained its meridian, when a shot was heard nearly a mile off; then another, and another, was fired. This, then, was the signal for the finding of the child. It was found! The mother knew the signal; but


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whether her child was dead or alive, she knew not; her agony and suspense were too much, and she sunk to the earth in a swoon.


About a mile from the house the little one was found. She was first seen by one of the hunters, sitting on a log, eating away at her roasting ear. She had been lying down beside the log on a bed of leaves. When found she had a wild and haggard look, and started off to evade the man who found her. She was free from any harm, and only complained of a little hunger. Gradually the joyful news was conveyed to the mother; but the shock was so great to her system, that for many months she suffered severely.


Those sun-browned, hardy pioneers gathered around the parents and child, grasping each other by the hand; while the big tears rolled down their cheeks, as they expressed their joy to Mr. Hilde- brand and his wife, and to one another. Every one must take the little one and caress it! The father and mother would cry and laugh by turns. And finally when leaving for their homes, each would press the hands of parent and child, and with a fervent "God Bless you!" and a tear of gratitude, mount their horses and ride away.


JUMPING CLAIMS.


To a correspondent we are indebted for the following: On one occasion, a settler had made a claim on Camp creek, and put up a good hewed-log house, and lived in it during the summer; but as winter approached, and some of his family being sick and provision scarce, he went back to the older settlement where subsistence could be had in plenty.




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