USA > Illinois > Lee County > Recollections of the pioneers of Lee County [Illinois] > Part 4
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"Your grandfather was so charmed with the country in the vicinity of what is now Amboy, that he concluded to locate claims for himself and two oldest sons, and did so on what is now the old homestead.
"He then returned to Farmington and found us settled. Harmon had dug potatoes on shares until he had enough to last us through the winter; also by husking corn, had bought some pigs; so father concluded to stay there a year, so as to raise provisions to last until he could get started in the new place, as the country was so unsettled that it was im- possible to get provisions.
"In the winter, he and Harmon and Lorenzo went to what was then Palestine Grove, where they cut the logs for the "Old Log Cabin," and with the assistance of John Dexter, John Doan and his two sons, James and Joseph, rolled them up and put the roof on, after which they returned to Farmington.
"The next summer, in August, after the crops were attended to, he and the boys went back to Palestine to get out rails and fence a small piece of ground, make hay, build a stable, break prairie and sow some wheat, taking Clara (myself) along to cook and keep house for them. For six weeks I lived in that lonely cabin on the wide prairie (I was but fourteen then), and many a scare I had. The last day and night we were there, father and the boys went to the timber, cut some logs and hauled them to Rocky Ford, where there was a saw-mill, run by Meek, I think, and had them sawed into boards, from which they made our floor-the first floor made of sawed boards in that country, the others being made of. puncheon, that is, logs split into strips. They did not get home until ten o'clock at night. The next morning they laid the floor, after which we started for home in the afternoon. It was about ninety miles from Amboy to Farmington. My father made several journeys between the two places and we moved to our new home in December, 1837, a cold, cheerless wind and snow in our faces most of the way.
"Father used to have to go to Peoria to get his grain ground into flour. The last journey he made was in the winter; he expected to get back be- fore we got out of bread, but before he got home there came up a furious storm of snow and wind, drifting it into hollows and sloughs so they became impassable. Father reached Greenfield, now LaMoille, late in the day, and notwithstanding that it was dangerous to cross the prairie during the storm, he had been delayed so long he feared we were in need, so he resolved to push on. He did, but was obliged to go before the horses and beat a track for them through the hollows. He reached Thomas Fessenden's late at night completely tired out. He stayed there the
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remainder of the night and reached home the next morning, just as mother was making the last corn-meal into a Johnny cake.
"Mother always kepta beacon light burning in the little north window of the old cabin, so that if any person was wandering on that wide prai- rie it would guide them to a shelter.
"In about three years father built a frame house, Uncle Jesse Hale, from Pennsylvania, occupying the log house. Father brought the lumber for the new house from Chicago across the country, ninety miles.
"In the spring of 1849, father went to California. He died on the way back, of congestive chills-never reached home."
So here, in the winter of 1837, the Wasson family took possession of their new home with its one small window, and that toward the north- but how much light and cheer and comfort flowed forth from that cabin as the years went by, it needs a mighty pen to tell.
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Little Clara, fourteen years old, had been the first to consecrate it to home. Her light footsteps had sounded on the puncheons which would fly up at one end when she trod on the other. She had acted the woman's part in preparing the food and in "keeping house" for her father and brothers, she had roamed about the prairie in their absence, gathering grapes and plums, often calling on Mrs. Dexter, who loaned her books, among others, the "History of the Reformation," which she read through. She had staid alone when father and brothers were belated, from being detained at the saw-mill, and in the darkness had hidden, trembling in the covered wagon, listening to the howling wolves, and not daring to enter the cabin lest some dreadful creature might be lurking in a corner. She did not then know of the "Banditti." Was it the fore-shadowing of their dark deeds which even then filled her with terror? But, at last, she heard the welcome sound of the coming wagon with the boards for the floor, which were laid the next morning, and in the afternoon they were all on their way to Farmington. This was in September, and in December all the family returned, the trip requiring two days .. The first night they stopped at a Mr. Bond's, the next at Mr. Doan's.
In Mrs. Backensto's letter we see what wise and prudent forethought had been displayed by Mr and Mrs. Wasson, in making ample provision for the winter by improving the opportunities, both here and at Farming- ton. Hence they were prepared to make themselves comfortable and to do good to all whom Providence might lead in their way. They seemed never to think of their own comfort or convenience, either physically or financially, when they could assist others in this new and sparsely settled country. From the time of Mrs. Wasson's coming she always endeavored
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to keep a'light in the only window at night, especially on dark and stormy nights, so if there were any belated travelers wandering on the prairie it would guide them to a shelter; and any who came received the warmest welcome and the best the house afforded. The light could sometimes be seen for miles, to the old Chicago road.
Mrs. Wasson was a ministering angel in sickness. During a long season of ill health she had studied medical works, and in this country, where doctors and nurses were not to be had, such knowledge proved to be invaluable. She would often leave her bed on dark, tempestuous 'nights and ride miles to attend upon the suffering where her ministrations were most successful. There was a strength and self-possession in her character which invited the confidence of the sick: there was a firm, sedate, yet cheerful kindness which carried a most salutary influence into the chamber of sickness. She was above medium height, straight and strong, with a commanding presence. Her complexion was fair, her eyes blue, and her hair a soft brown. No one could have doubted her straight- forward, uncompromising integrity. It came to be a saying, "Mrs. Was- son can do anything for everybody," and her husband kindly lent her his aid.
Not very long after their coming, a death occurred about two miles away. A family by the name of Abbott lost a little daughter; there was no lumber to be had for a coffin, so Mr. Wasson took the remains of an Indian canoe, made of a black walnut log which one of the boys found on the prairie, partly consumed by fire, and made a pretty casket for the little one.
Whenever a wandering missionary came along, as they sometimes did, Mr. Wasson would send one of his sons on horseback to notify the settlers that there would be Divine service at his house. Mrs. Wasson would set the cabin in order and every one who could come would do so.
We have seen how ready Mr. Wasson was to assist his wife in her use- fulness, and there are many like instances remembered. Twelve years after their settlement here the excitement caused by the California gold mines induced him, in company with his youngest son, to try his fortune there. They proceeded to Nauvoo, and after resting at Mrs. Smith's, Mrs. Wasson's sister, crossed the river into the then trackless west. After long and anxious waiting, the sad tidings of Mr. Wasson's death, which oc- curred in February, 1851, reached his family; and Mrs. Wasson was destined to walk the rest of Life's pathway in the shadows. To her might have been dedicated the following lines, so literally did she seeni to realize them in her life:
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"Arisc my friend, and go about Thy darkened house with cheerful feet ;
Yield not one jot to fear nor doubt, But baffled. broken, still repeat;
Tis mine to work, and not to win; The soul must wait to have her wings;
Even time is but a landmark in The great eternity of things.
Arise and all thy tasks fulfill, And as thy day thy strength shall be;
Were there no power beyond the ill, The ill could not have come to thee.
Though cloud and storm encompass thec, Be not afflicted nor afraid : Thou knowest the shadow could not be Were there no sun beyond the shade."
She continued her active life, carrying on the farm and "going about doing good." She had joined with Mrs. Col Badger, Mrs. De Wolfe and others in sustaining worship in the form she most loved, while she could, but when that failed she worshipped in the Methodist Episcopal church. With her social nature she entered into the work of that society, held socials at her house and assisted in every way. When Mr. Broaduax was here, and the Episcopal church again held service, she attended it. Her son, Harmon, had studied medicine and was practicing here. He often spoke of the great assistance his mother's experience and advice had been to him.
Mrs. Wasson had three brothers who settled in this county; Jesse, David and Alva Hale; also a sister, Mrs. Trial Morse, who was killed in a tornado in the summer of 1859. At the same time her oldest daughter, Emma, was so badly injured that she died after two weeks of intense suffering, having nearly every bone in her body broken. Mrs. Morse was killed almost instantly, being caught in the whirl and transfixed through the abdomen with a fence-stake. When Mrs. Wasson was notified of the calamity, she hastened to the dreadful scene. With stony face and tear- less eyes, she looked upon the wreck of her sister and niece-she could not weep. She said it would do her good if she could, but she had passed through so much trouble she was beyond it. She consoled herself with the reflection that her sister had "gone home to her God in whom she had always trusted and was better off."
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"We make the least ado o'er greatest troubles, Our very anguish does our anguish drown:
The sea forms only just a few faint bubbles
Of stifled breathing, when a ship goes down."
Mrs. Wasson continued to live on the old place until near the end of 1863, when to the hardships of pioneer life and numerous added affictions her health gave way and the old home was broken up. She went to live with her youngest child, Carrie, who inarried Rev. Erastus De Wolfe, and went home to her reward, May 18, 1874.
The older children, Lorenzo D. Wasson, Dr. Harmon Wasson and Roxy Emma, who became Mrs. Simon Badger, all died at Amboy, in the prime of life, and Mrs. De Wolfe is now numbered with the departed ones. Mrs. Clara M. Backensto is at Fort Logan, Colorado, and Mr. Warren Wasson is at Carson City, Nevada. Mr. Arthur P. Wasson, son of Lorenzo D., owns and lives on the old farm and has sons and daughters. The remain- ing grandchildren and great-grandchildren are scattered from New York to Colorado and Nevada.
The old "Wasson house" has gone to decay and disappeared. Until within a few years, the two-story, weather-beaten mansion which con- tained the first floor of sawed boards in the place, and which had held a welcome for all who sought its hospitable doors for so many years, stood dark against the sky, a landmark indeed, and for some years unoccupied. How often have been recalled to passers by some of the lines of "The De- serted House."
"Gloom is upon thy lone hearth O silent house! once filled with mirth; Sorrow is in the breezy sound Of thy tall poplars whispering round.
The shadow of departed hours Hangs dim upon thine early flowers; Even in thy sunshine seems to brood Something more deep than solitude.
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The Blair Family.
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J AMES BLAIR came here in the spring of 1838, and located a claim just west of Rocky Ford, where his son, Edwin M. Blair, now resides. Here he built a log cabin, broke prairie and prepared for his family; boarding, a part of the time, before they came, at Mr. Dexter's. The next Spring, Mrs. Blair, with her two youngest children, sons, came the long tedious journey from Jamestown, New York, via. Pittsburgh, Penn- sylvania, down the Alleghany River and the Ohio to St. Louis, up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Illinois River, and up the Illinois to Peru; and from thence by wagon to this place.
In June, Mr. E. Blair, with a brother and two sisters, traveled the same route, and at length reached the new home in the "far distant west." So the whole family were here with the exception of the oldest son, James, who followed in 1846.
It is hard to conceive what must have been their feelings on reaching this wilderness, after having lived in a place like Jamestown, a village on the outlet of Chautauqua Lake, where the boats plied up and down, and where there was a fine water-power for extensive business; good soci- ety and many advantages to leave with regret. Some of the sketches of pioncer life which have preceeded this, have depicted the trials to which the family were soon to be introduced. Fever and ague and billious dif- ficulties were prevalent, and often there were not well ones enough to 1 care for the sick. Mrs. Biair possessed the heavenly gift of knowing just what to do to relieve the suffering and in some cases which called for the , greatest skill, she was the means of their restoration to health.
At one time Mrs. Wasson was ill and weak and unable for a long time to perform her accustomed duties. Mrs. Blair visited her frequently and once recomended her to make an infusion of timothy hay and to drink it freely, having known a similar case cured by that means. Mrs. Was- son followed her advice and was very soon benefitted by doing so. Many instances of Mrs. Blair's usefulness and neighborly kindness and success- ful treatment of alarming maladies are related. Sickness came to her
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own family and she had need herself, of the ministrations of her friends; and she was not without them. Indeed, instances of reciprocal kindness warm from the heart, of noble forgetfulness of self, unshrinking firmness, calm endurance, and sometimes reckless bravery are so often brought to light in searching out these incidents of pioneer life, that the faith in human nature which only happy childhood knows comes back, and "a light that never was on land or sea" glimmers through the mist.
Mrs. Blair was a quiet home-woman. Her oldest children were daugh- ters who married and left home early, leaving her with a large share of household labor to perform; yet she had cast her "bread upon the waters," and in due season it returned to her.
One cold winter night when the prairie was covered with snow and ice, she was taken very sick. So alarming was her illness that it seemed im- possible for her to live until morning. Her son Edwin went for Mrs. Hook; she was at home alone with her three little children, her husband having gone on one of those pioneer journeys. When she heard how Mrs. Blair needed her, she thought at first, that she could not leave her child- ren; but she had taught them filial obedience in her cheerful, loving decided way, and she knew she could trust them. So she awakened her oldest daughter and told where she was going, and, covering the three together in the warin bed, gave directions for them to stay there until she returned, and she would come as early in the morning as she could. She started with Edwin straight across the prairie, for there were no roads or fences then. She found it so very slippery that it would take a long time for her to get there-no rubbers in those days-so she sat down and took off her shoes and went in her stockings, that no time might be lost. Fortunately her stockings were thick woolen ones, of her own knit- ting. She, too, was one who knew just what to do in sickness and trouble, and her prompt assistance brought relief to Mrs. Blair; and Mrs. Hook returned home in the morning to find her children safe where she had left them.
It would begratifying to Mrs. Blair's children and descendents to hear all the kind and respectful words that are spoken of her by those who have known her all these years, and the tender and appreciative things said of her by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. E. M. Blair. Her last sickness was ex- ceedingly distressing, the result of a fali, and after lingering many weeks and receiving the loving care of her son and family she went Home!
Mr. James Blair was born at Blanford, Connecticut, June 3, 1788. Mrs. Fanny (Hamilton) Blair, was born at Worcester, Massachusetts, February 15, 1792. They were married about 1814, at Stockbridge, Oneida
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county, New York. They had eight children. One son died in childhood. The others were James R., Winthrop H., Edwin M., William W. and Charles L., and two daughters, Elmina and Caroline.
James R. came to Illinois in_1846, and died March 18, 1857. Charles L., the youngest, was drowned September 3, 1850. Elmina Jane, died March 10, 1853, at East Grove, Bureau County, Illinois. Mr. James Blair died at Amboy, Illinois, June 12, 1851. Mrs. Blair, his widow, died at the same place, January 17, 1881.
There are at this time, 1893, three sons and one daughter living: E. M. Blair, who lives on the old homestead, two and a half miles south west of Amboy, W. W. and W. H. Blair, of Lamoni, Decatur county, Iowa, and Mrs. Caroline Kimball, of Neilsville Clark county, Wisconsin.
REMINISCENCES OF MR. EDWIN M. BLAIR.
One Autumn Mr. Blair went to Chicago with a load of wheat, drawn by three yoke of oxen. It usually required about nine days toaccomplish the trip, with mercy to the oxen. At that season of the year it was the custom to camp out on the way, and also to carry ones' own provisions as far as possible in order to have anything left from the money received for the produce. One place of encampment was at Desplaines, about twelve miles this side of Chicago. It was in a large grove, the trees not too close - to render the place aught but a delightful camping ground. There were gathered there over a hundred and fifty teams, on the way, either to or from Chicago. There was one man who came from Knox county, with an ox team, who had kept up with his companions who came with horses, all the distance. The way he accomplished the feat was by breaking his encampment an hour or two earlier in the morning than his companions did, traveling later in the evening, or until he overtook them. On this morning, when Mr. Blair was present, this man yoked up his team and got under way about three o'clock in the morning. He appeared to be a happy man, for as he proceeded on his way singing, the morning air bore back the words he sang:
"O how happy are they Who their Savior obey, And have laid up their treasures above:
Tongue can never express The sweet comfort and peace Of a soul in its earliest love."
In the winter of 18-, Mr. Heman Mead started from his home, adjoin- ing what is now the County Farm, in Eldena, for Pine Creek mill, near
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Mt. Morris, with a load of grain, crossing Rock River at Dixon, on the ice. He reached the mill in safety, had his grist ground and was on his way home, reaching Dixon about ten or eleven o'clock in the evening. He drove onto the ice, following the track over which he had passed in the morning. When in about the middle of the river, in the current of the stream, his horses broke through the ice, and horses, wagon and grain were drawn under. Mr. Mead had the presence of mind to throw his arms out over the ice, and having on a thick coat, the ice held him, freezing on- to the coat-sleeves. He shouted for help. For a long time his calls reached no ones ears. At last, some travelers who stopped at the Phoenix hotel, which was near the river, were shown by the clerk to their room, which, providentially, had a window which was not quite closed. As they were preparing for bed one of them said he was sure he heard some one calling as if in distress. On going to the window to open it to listen, he found it partly open, which fortunate fact allowed the call to be heard by him. They immediately descended to the office and a party of them started toward the river in the direction of the sound. On arriving where Mr. Mead was, they found it would not be safe to venture further without returning to the house and getting boards with which they could reach and rescue him. He was taken to the hotel and everything was done for his comfort. In the morning the good people of Dixon contrib- uted inoney enough to buy him another wagon, a pair of horses and a load of grain, and as there was some money left it was given him, and he was sent on home rejoicing. It makes one feel like breaking forth into singing the anthem of the angels of Bethlehem when hearing of such things
Mr. Blair relates an incident in which his father was the actor. He had been to Wilson's mill on the Elkhorn, about thirty-two miles north- west of here, and was on his return home. He crossed the river at Dixon and came out on the Peoria road. It was in the evening and he lost his way. After traveling a long time, and it appeared as if he was coming back to where he had been, his oxen were getting too tired to go farther. He had no way to judge what direction to go, for the night was dark; so he moved his flour to the other end of the wagon and prepared to wait until daybreak. It was in. December and he was suffering with the cold. Fortunately his dog. went with him and taking him under the blankets which he had, he waited until dawn, the warmth of the dog keeping him from freezing. With the first light he espied the grove in the distant horizon and lost no time in reaching home.
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1
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1. MANZ & CO. CHI-
ROCKY FORD-OLD INDIAN CROSSING.
Mr. Blair describes the ruins of Indian lodges which were in the vicin- ity of his farm, in two or three different places; also the manner of dis- posing of the remains of the dead. The body of one Indian was standing tied to a tree and a fence was built around it higher than the head; the rails fastened close together as if to afford careful protection from incau- tivus intrusion. This was quite near to the ruined lodges. Mr. Blair has seen two similar sepulchers of the Indian dead, in his journeyings in Northern Illinois.
Mr. Blair, on one occasion, took ten barrels of flour from Grand Detour to Peru, from which place it was to be shipped; crossing the river about three miles north of Dixon. It was in the latter part of May or first of June. On the way he got "sloughed" three times, each time having all the barrels to unload and reload. At one place his horse and heavily laden wagon sank so deeply in the mire that they were extracted with great difficulty. He was alone and it was evening. Usually two or more teams went in company to avoid such solitary disasters. Mr. Blair waded in and unfastened his horses from the wagon and led them out, and then started off to find help. He reached a house and found no one at home but the children; but with their knowledge he took a wagon and with that returned to the slough He wheeled it near the other wagon and alone lifted five barrels into it, attached his horses to it and drew it out, unloaded and repeated the work for the other five barrels, and so finally drew the mired wagon out, all the time the rain coming down.
At another time, he with his brother-in-law, Mr. Abbott, took a load of wheat to mill in Grand Detour. It was in December and wheat suffic- ient for the winter was to be ground, lest the. mills should freeze up so that grinding would be impossible. They started in the morning with oxen, and reached their destination about five o'clock in the afternoon, there to find many waiting with grists which would require three days work. The river was frozen partly over, but chaining the oxen to the cart, they left then, and managed. to get the grain over the ice to where a kind of wharf was built out to reach the ice, making a way to get the grain to the mill. But what could they do? There were no houses within several miles, and to wait three days seemed impossible. So ap- pealing to the kind hearted miller and telling him how far they were from home, he told them that if they would have the grain at hand and
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would wait until after all the others were asleep, he would grind theirs so that they could get away. About nine o'clock all were asleep and their grist was soon in the mill. A young man from Mt. Morris was there with a team on that side of the river, with whom Mr. Blair had formed some acquaintance that afternoon while waiting. He ventured to awake him and ask him to help them with the flour over the river, or out to the ice where they could transfer it to their wagons. He good naturedly con- sented and when the task was accomplished he refused to receive any compensation for his night's labor; Mr. Blair promising to return the favor if he ever had an opportunity.
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