USA > Illinois > Lee County > Recollections of the pioneers of Lee County [Illinois] > Part 21
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During those first years they suffered many privations. My grand- father was nearly seventy years of age, his oldest son, a delicate lad, who had suffered from hip disease, and the other boys too young to beof much assistance. Times were hard and it was almost impossible to get hired help of any kind, so that often my aunt Mary, my mother and the other girls had to go out into the field to assist in planting the corn, getting in the hay and harvesting the grain.
They had no well or cistern for some time, and all the water they used was hauled in barrels from the creek, a mile or more away. Their drink
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ing water was obtained from a spring in the ravine back of the house, about three quarters of a mile. My cousin, Margaret, used to put a jug on either end of a strap, throw it over her horse's back in front of her and gallop off to bring the water. In the summer season they used to take their washing to the spring to rinse the clothes. As soon as they could they had a cistern made. My grandfather made two or three attempts to have a well dug, but each time after getting down about twenty feet they struck solid rock, and had to abandon the enterprise.
The game which was in such abundance here, and the river teeming with fish, furnished the boys much enjoyable sport, as well as being a most welcome addition to their larder. Their prairie chickens were brought home in such quantities that my grandmother used to take the breasts and salt them, afterwards having them smoked. They are said to have been delicious prepared in this way. Sometimes there would be a little grumbling that the wings and legs only were left for the table, but this was a very rare occurrance, so plentiful were they.
Two or three times after their arrival here they were visited by roving bands of Indians, of whom they were somewhat afraid. So stealthily would they approach that the family would have no knowledge of their presence until they would see a face at the window, or the latch would be raised and half a dozen of the red men stalk into theirmidst. A demand for food would invariably be made, which was always supplied them. The chief men of the tribe and their squaws only would enter the house, leaving the remainder of the tribe outside. One squaw in particular I have heard described as being very beautiful, with a wealth of raven hair, which she wore in two long braids. The youngest child of my aunt, who greatly admired her, would sometimes veature near and touch her hair, an act that was resented with fiercest scowls. While the family were engaged in preparing the food for them, the Indians employed themselves in examining every article of furniture with the greatest curiosity. That which attracted them most was the looking glass, and they took the keenest delight in standing before it, admiring themselves in almost every conceivable posture. They seemed to have a certain etiquette in regard to accepting hospitality, for if their plates were too well filled to enable them to consume all the food thereon, they carefully cleaned off every scrap and carried it away with them. Whether for a time of need, or because they considered it the proper acknowledgement for their enter- tainment, I do not know. One young chief took so great a fancy to my cousin, Margaret McGinnis (a dark slip of a girl), that he offered to trade a pony for her. An offer, it is needless to say, that was "declined with
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1
thanks." The family were never troubled by any depredations from the Indians or annoyed by them in any way.
My grandfather, like the majority of farmers in those days, raised sheep. My grandmother spun the wool into yarn; and all the girls were adepts in the art of knitting. Not only were all the family socks and stockings fashioned from the yarn, but many other useful garments. My mother and aunt Grace knitted warm jackets for all, and heavy hunting coats for the boys. They were pretty well supplied with literature for those days, and in the evening all would gather around the big fireplace and one would read aloud while the rest were employed with their sewing and knitting. My grandmother also spun the flax that was raised upon. the farm, from which they knit their summer stockings, gloves and mitts and the hats, too, that the girls wore. I have one of the latter that my mother knit. It presents a very funny appearance now, but I imagine it (when well starched and ironed into the desired shape, and with a ribbon around it), might have been very pretty, if a trifle odd looking. Certainly, that "necessity is the mother of invention," proved true in their case.
After the supply of shoes they had brought from New York had given out, my grandmother made the shoes for herself and daughters. She had lasts, awls, wax-ends (that she made herself), and everything that was required for the making of them. The uppers were of cloth, and for the soles she used old leather. It is a wonder to me how she could do it; hav- ing no previous knowledge of the craft, it seems an almost im possible task. There were no shoemakers here then, but a year or two later one appeared on the scene, and my grandfather would hire him to come to the house, where he remained until the entire family were well shod.
It must not be supposed that during those years of hard work and privations, they had no amusement. In an old diary I find a description of a Hallow'en party at their old home in 1841, where all the old Hal- low'en tests of fortune were tried by the young people; such as burning nuts, the three cups, diving for an apple in a tub of water, the ring placed in the cake, and gazing into the looking-glass as the clock strikes twelve to see one's true-love looking over one's shoulder, etc. A right merry time they had until the "wee sma' hours."
From many old letters and anecdotes, the truth has been forced upon me that the young people of those days were no wiser than at the pres- ent time. Then there were dinners and balls at Governor Charters' and other neighboring houses to which they went. Many were the jolly rid- ing parties they had through the lovely country. They generally rode to
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church, either to Sugar Grove or to Dixon, on horseback. My aunt Grace was never able to conquer timidity sufficiently to learn to ride, and was thus deprived of much pleasure.
Three years after the family came west, the eldest son died, and was laid to rest on the high bluff overlooking the river on the Rockwood place, which had been set apart as a burial ground. The second break in the family circle occurred three years later, when my grandfather passed away in December of the year 1845, leaving them in a new country, with no protection or support other than boys, my uncle David being but fifteen, and my cousin, James McGinnis, fourteen years of age. Amid many discouragements, they struggled through the succeeding few years. My grandmother's orchard and garden had however, more than fulfilled her expectations Everything was done under her personal supervision, and not a little of the work by her own hands. People used to come many miles for the pleasure of walking through her garden, and seldom was it that they departed empty handed, as she was ever most generous, and freely gave both roots and cuttings. That may have been one reason why it thrived so well.
The two older boys caught the gold fever and in January, '52, started to California, crossing the plains in a covered wagon, as many a one had done before them. On my cousin, William McGinnis, a lad not nineteen years of age, rested all the responsibility of managing the farm, and right well he did it. No boy ever worked harder or more faithfully, amid the burdens that were placed upon him.
My aunt Mary has a journal which she kept from the beginning of 1852 until the ending of 1856, which I have perused with much interest. It is mainly a record of unceasing labor by every member of the family. There are, however, two or three items which I give. First, that all important topic, the weather. During the first of January, 1853, there were terrific rains, lasting three or four days without cessation. At that time their cellar was flooded, and the water even reached the first floor of the house. In all this down-pour they were obliged to work unceasingly to saye their stock, but in spite of their efforts some of it was lost, mainly pigs and very young calves. The last week of the same month the snow fell for four consecutive days, and they carried between thirty and forty bushels of snow out of their house, where it had drifted in. During the first two months of that year, snow and rain fell for more than two-thirds of the time. In April, of that same year, there was a terrible storm, hail-stones falling the size of a goose egg.
It was not to be all clouds for them that year, for the crop was abund-
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ant. Such peaches as my grandmother had that year, have never been raised about here, either before or since. They were of great size and enormous quantity. That year they sold between three and four hundred dollars' worth of peaches alone, and in addition small fruits and apples, of which they had a large supply. The great abundance of the wild fruit in those early years can scarcely be imagined. When they went out blackberrying, they used to take tubs to bring them home in; yes, and fill them too. I have heard it said, that letters were written to friends "back east," by some of the earliest settlers here, telling that the straw- berries were in such profusion that in driving across the prairies the wagon wheels were dyed red from the juice of the berries.
My cousin, Margaret McGinnis, was a famous horsewoman, and small and slender though she was, never knew the meaning of the word fear. Many a colt on the place did she break to harness, and she was quite as much at home on the bareback of a horse as in the saddle, and indeed. usually rode in that way. She was also as proficient in the use of shot- gun and rifle as were the boys themselves. It is not so many years ago since I saw her take the gun, go out and bring down a hawk flying over- head.
In 1852, my aunts, Grace and Theodosia, felt that during the hard times the family were subjected to, and as their assistance was really not required on the farm, they ought at least, to support themselves; so they came into town and carried on dressmaking for some years, until the lat- ter was married. They were both earnest workers in the church, and took an active part in most enterprises that were started. The love of flowers was a perfect passion with aunt Grace, and she always sur- rounded herself with them. She was in delicate health many years before she died, but worked in her garden often, when she should have been in bed, and with her house-plants up to the very day she was taken with her last sickness. Her hands were never idle, and she could not be happy apart from her sewing and knitting, being employed with the lat- ter industry, even while she was reading. The restless feet are stilled; the busy hands are folded now, for rest came to her a little over a year ago, at the age of seventy-five.
My grandmother was a woman of great determination of character, and in her old age (for she lived to be one hundred and two years old, lacking one monthi), was a remarkable woman, inasmuch as she retained the vigor of her intellect, which was always bright, until the very last. She took the greatest interest in all the topics of the day, reading the newspapers and keeping herself thoroughly posted in regard to both home
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and foreign news. A few months before her death she read the life of the First Napoleon with the keenest zest. She had the most gentle, lov- ing disposition, and charity beyond words to express, but could, when occasion required, assume the most imposing dignity of manner and com- mand. I have seen her draw herself to her full height, and say to a member of the family (woman grown, who was speaking in some heat), "That will do, Madame," in a tone so awful that not another word would be uttered. I have a very distinct remembrance also, of the way in which she was wont to punish me, when a child, for some misdemeanor of which I had been guilty. She never raised her hand to me, but would take me by the shoulders and give me so vigorous a shaking that the teeth would rattle in my head.
My grandmother's bible was her constant companion, and she had the most beautiful faith I have ever known, never murmuring, never ques- tioning, but accepting all that was sent as God's will. She lived to see most of her loved ones pass on before her to " That undiscovered coun- try, from whose bourne no traveler returns;" and with the words "Tarry not, Lord, for I come," ever on her lips-calmly awaited the summons, which came to her in May, 1884.
I was told that as this was to be a woman's work, I must confine my- self more particularly to the lives of the women of the family. This I have endeavored to do, although by so doing, I have necessarily omitted much of interest concerning those of the family who were boys at that time. GRACE EVERETT JOHNSON.
Hazelwood.
A DISTINGUISHING feature connected with the history of the city of Dixon and its neighborhood, including the township of Dixon, and one much commented upon by visitors from the old settled states of our union, is the fact that the inhabitants of this partic- ular district are gifted with a very high social standing-that there seems to be an air of aristocratic breeding among them which is not found gen- erally outside the limits of our eastern cities and early established com- · munities. The cause of this distinguishing feature can be traced to the emigration from the city of New York of a number of choice families in the years of 1837 and 1838 to the Rock River Valley: Dixon's Ferry being the terminus of their long journey.
A financial crisis had overwhelmed the entire country in the year 1837 The business men of the city of New York, particularly the importers of foreign goods, had suffered tremendous reverses of fortune, and many of them becoming wearied with the wear and tear of commerce, determined to seek fortunes for themselves and families in the attractive west.
Dixon's Ferry on Rock River had been reported to some of these fam - ilies as being the central point of the most beautiful portion of the great western country which had so many attractions for them, and to this point their future steps were directed-and at this point the present flourishing city of Dixon is located.
One of these families was that of Captain Hugh Graham, formerly captain of one of the Black Ball line of ocean packets-the ocean grey- hounds of that day-who settled a few miles down the north side of the river from Dixon's Ferry. He had a commanding appearance and was very choice of the language he used. An acquaintance from Dixon vis- iting him one day at his farm remarked that he had not seen him in town for a long time. "No sir," said Captain Grahanı, "the boundary lines of iny plantation are now the limits of my peregrinations, sir."
Another family was that of John T. Lawrence, who had lately grad-
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uated from the military academy of West Point-and of David Law, Sr. who both settled close neighbors to Captain Graham. Of those who settled up the river from Dixon's Ferry were the Wetzler and Bradshaw families, both distinguished for their high social relations in the city of New York. Of the young unmarried men who formed part of this colony of refined and educated families were Charles F. Hubbard and young friends, familiarly called the "Bluff Boys," who settled down the south side of the river from Dixon's Ferry a few miles; and Guy Carleton Bay- ley and his brother Richard Bayley, who settled up the river on the south side a few miles from Dixon's Ferry. These young men were brothers of the future Archbishop of Newark, N. J, and connected with the old Knickerbocker families of New York City, who formed the Four Hun- dred of that day.
At the same time-spring of 1838-and in the same company, came also a young man who afterwards filled the most prominent position in the social and intellectual life of Dixon and its surrounding-Alexander Charters-universally named and known as "the Governor" on account of his handsome and commanding appearance, his elegant manners and his unrivaled hospitality, which made his home, named Hazlewood, a household word throughout the entire western country. He selected for his home the most beautiful spot to be found in the state of Illinois- three miles upstream on the north side from Dixon's Ferry. He was a widower with a young son, James B. Charters, then seeking his education in the University of Dublin, Ireland.
Hazlewood was a fine estate of six hundred acres and the hospitable mansion was situated on the bank of the river at an elevation of one hundred feet, overlooking one of the most charming views to be found upon any river in any country:
The Governor's hospitality was universal. Hle entertained the rich and the poor, the learned and the unlearned, the titled personages and the untitled, with the same warmth, the same elegance of manner and the same degree of dignity. He was visited by every distinguished man and woman who happened to pass through Dixon and its vicinity. His visitors included Stephen A. Douglas, Abraham Lincoln, William Cullen Bryant, Margaret Fuller, Countess of Ossoli, many dignitaries of the church and state, and many noblemen from abroad.
It was a common remark in those early days, when anybody inquired of the hotel proprietor in Dixon the way to Hazlewood he was told to "cross the river and take any road he pleased, that they all led to Hazle- wood."
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The Governor was assisted in his hospitable duties by his brother, Samuel M. Charters, and his niece, Fanny Charters, daughter of Samuel. She was eighteen years of age when she came with her father to reside at Hazlewood, and being a most beautiful girl and of fine education, she added immensely to the attractions of Hazlewood. Her admirers con- sisted of all the marriageable young men from many counties around Dixon and she shed a lustre upon the society of that early day which is even felt to the present time.
The Henshaw family, who settled on Rock River at Oregon, was also a part of this little community which moved from New York City in the spring of 1838 to Rock River, and formed a very interesting portion of it, too. Mr. and Mrs. Henshaw had two daughters, very pretty girls, Emily and Josephine. Mr. Henshaw speaking of them used to to say, "Emily will marry for an establishment, but Josephine, Josephine, she will go for the heart." \He proved to be a true prophet, for Emily married a rich Mr. Clark of Chicago, for whom Clark street in that city was named, and Josephine gave her heart to Mr. Joseph Latshaw, of Princeton, and ever remained a happy, loving wife.
Another of that band of early settlers of 1837-38 was John Shillaber, a native of Salem, Massachusetts, who having resided abroad for several years had all the bearing and appearance of an Englishman. He was a man of large means for those days and settled on Pine Creek, near Rock River, a few miles from Dixon's Ferry. He lived alone with his servants and retainers in dignified style and was always styled My Lord Shillaber, and treated everybody with a haughty reserve. When meeting an ac- quaintance who would offer his hand in salutation Lord Shillaber would graciously present the forefinger of his right hand and allow that men- ber to be shaken. Occasionally he would send a communication to the Salem newspaper describing the beauty and magnificence of the Rock River scenery and of the prairies surrounding his plantation. According to his reports the game upon his preserves was plentiful, because when he wished a supply he would go out and knock the prairie hens over with his cane, and the wild turkeys were very, very abundant.
To recall the number of influential people who came in early days to make their homes in Dixon would be a difficult task. Suffice it to say that their descendants at the present time speak for themselves-nowhere in the west can be found a community gifted with such a refined, pol- ished, highly educated and distinguished looking people as that now dwelling in the city of Dixon and its environs. OLD SETTLER.
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The Magic of Photography. SNAP SHOTS FROM MEMORY.
BY J. H. MOORE.
A MONG the improvements of the age but few things have made more rapid advancement than the art of photography. A score of years ago it was scarcely classed as an art, and a photographer was regarded more as an artisan than an artist. A glance at the pictures of those days and of these will warrant the distinction. The early produc- tions of the photographer's skill were crude affairs and unsatisfactory even to the comparatively uncultivated taste of that period. The con- centration and diffusion of light was but little understood, the chemicals were but poorly adapted to their purpose, and the operator himself was frequently a man of little if any artistic appreciation. Then it took sev- eral minutes' exposure to secure a negative, and the result as shown in the family portraits of the period was usually a stiff figure, partly out of focus, one side in bright light and the other in a deep shade, and the countenance unnatural, generally expressionless. Now all this is changed, and by the instantaneous process, a picture is taken unerringly true to nature; the most fleeting shadow of a smile or a frown is caught in the twinkling of an eye and the very grace of motion is almost preserved.
These contrasts were vividly presented in a half hour's wandering through the oldest gallery in this part of the country.
There is a little sort of honeycomb instrument by which a man may be multiplied in miniature twenty-five times in the snap of a finger, receiving that number of perfect portraits about the size of a postage stamp, while from yonder closet comes life-size portraits, twenty by twenty-four inches in size.
This little affair, that looks something like a spiritualist cabinet, is a place where the most wonderful feats of magic are performed. Here sits the magician, his head half hidden under the folds of a dark curtain, with his more than magic pencil, putting hair on bald heads and erasing
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wrinkles wrought by the land of time. Faces merely comely when they go in here, come out radiantly beautiful; faces careworn and cross are touched with beatific serenity. Moles magically disappear into dimples; and freckled faces are transformed into complexions of angelic trans- parency.
Here is a chair, simple in appearance, but with some half dozen at- tachments, clamps, rests, ball-sockets and swivel joints, capable of a hundred transformations, and by means of which a tired mother's temper is saved from explosion, a restless baby rendered docile and happy, and a fat and frowning child transmogrified into a smiling cherub.
Butall the magic of a photograph gallery lies not in apparatus. Seated in the reception parlors, how full of reminiscences of the far away past are the pictured walls on every hand. How kindly look down upon us the faces of the friends of other days. The sturdy pioneers, who have long since moved on to that bourne from whence no traveler returns, seem to belie the Shakespearian adage and come back to us in veritabie reality.
From yonder frame look out the calm and kindly features of the ven- erable John Dixon, father and founder of our city, whose snow-white locks fall gracefully over his broad shoulders. The friend and counselor alike of the white man and the red, Nachusa was a name universally revered and beioved. Yonder is Dr. Everett, another grand old man, who for more than a score of years was principal medicine-man of the pale-faces in Northern Illinois, and who assisted in ushering into the world most of those earliest to the manor born.
Over there is Father Whitney. the centenarian, who having rounded his hundred well spent years of life, passed to his peaceful death. Old as he is, there remains a merry twinkle in his eyes that tells that for him life had not lost its enjoyment. When he came here the west was a vast wilderness, and the virgin prairies between Dixon and his Franklin home, untouched by the plow, was one vast sea of emerald green, heaving with billows of wild blossoms in gorgeous rainbow tint. Here is the portly figure and genial face of Governor Charters and his protege, Geo. Foote. How they speak to us of the whole-hearted hospitality of Hazle- wood-of days and nights ever to be remembered, but never to return. Here are James L. Camp and B. F. Burr, who for so many years between them ran the politics and postoffice of Dixon. There is Dr. Gardner, of Thompsonian practice, who late in life thought himself not too old to follow Greeley's advice to young men, and went west to found a new home, which he did not live to enjoy. Here is McL. Wadsworth, who
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