History of Custer County, Nebraska; a narrative of the past, with special emphasis upon the pioneer period of the county's history, its social, commercial, educational, religous, and civic developement from the early days to the present time, Part 49

Author: Gaston, William Levi, 1865- [from old catalog]; Humphrey, Augustin R., 1859- [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1919
Publisher: Lincoln, Neb., Western publishing and engraving company
Number of Pages: 1180

USA > Nebraska > Custer County > History of Custer County, Nebraska; a narrative of the past, with special emphasis upon the pioneer period of the county's history, its social, commercial, educational, religous, and civic developement from the early days to the present time > Part 49

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

First boy ( nudging his friend ) - "Put on your shoes. Chink. you're attracting the atten- tion of the nobility. Gee, it's fortunate I took my annual bath this morning.

Second boy -"After this I'm going to carry a piece of cashmere-bouquet soap in my pocket."

Miss H. F. (getting up) - "Oh, come on, let's go to the other side. I'm going to speak to my father and see if this sort of thing can't be stopped." ( Both start for the other side of the house. )

361

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

First boy (cheerfully ) -"Come again, girls ; you're always welcome to our little city."

MRS. G. W. DEWEY

Mrs. G. W. Dewey, who with her husband resides in the fertile valley of the Middle Loup, near Gates, is one of Custer county's literary women. Both she and her husband have been pioneers and actively identified with the growth and development of the county.

Mrs. Dewey has been one of the prominent teachers of the county, and probably her teaching extends over a longer period than that of any other person now teaching in Cus- ter county. Public-spirited, she has been in the fore and front of all educational mnove- ments and has always been a welcome and in- teresting contributor to all public-school programs. So prominent has been her par- ticipation in county school affairs that her ser- vices are still secured for county institutes, summer schools, and educational conventions held in the county.

Her rich imagination, combined with the genius of expression, has enabled her to pro- duce several poems which have received favor- able notice and some of which are entitled to be enrolled as classics. Special reference is made to her poem entitled "The Blizzard." which is not only vividly descriptive but also presents a style dramatically weird and fas- cinating.

THE BLIZZARD ( By Mrs. G. W. Dewey)

There's a threatening calm, and a lowering mist

On the northwest hills, and a thrill of fear

Is running through earth and air and kine. For the chase of the Great White Bison is near !

No longer the bison shaggy and dark. Moves like a cloud from mountain to lea,

Gone like his wild bronze master of old, And only their phantoms we hear and see.

Here they come with thunder of hoofs! A wild Valkyrie. zenith high,

Their ghostly forms go billowing past. For the Great White Bison Chase is nigh !

Pressed in the rear by the Arctic wolves Of the cruel North Wind, past they go.

Stopping for nothing, human or beast, Bison and wolves are white as snow.

All day they press with flight and moan, And the settler cowers by his scanty fire.

Or helpless thinks of those in their track, Or his cowering stock in their wind-lashed byre.

Night falls pallidly, lit by their flight, Thousands they press and trample by ;

Man and beast have surrendered the path, And the wild White Bison rules earth and sky.

All night long in mad stampede,

Morning dawns and the herd is past.

Feeding in peace in some sky-known mead. Ghostly fugitives safe at last !

But woe to the living thing that fared Across its path when flight was on ;

For the silence of death broods stark and grim

On the hills where the wild, white chase has gone.

COURT HOUSE CORNER STONE

In 1912, when the corner-stone of the pres- ent Custer county court house was laid, by a public ceremony held on the court-house lawn. Mrs. Dewey contributed the following poem to the program. The poem is descriptive of the building, the county, and the occasion, and brings into the rhyme and lines every pre- cinct in the county.

CORNER-STONE POEM ( By Mrs. G. W. Dewey)

When Israel's king beneath the orient skies, Prepared to build a temple to his God, To Zion's height they brought abundant store Of costly stones ; the Mediterranean's flood Bore from the land of Hiram, cedars tall Of Lebanon, and fir on many floats.

"So they prepared timber and stones, the house

Of God to build." The old recorder notes.

Grandly it rose on Mount Moriah's height. A stately pile without, of costly stone ;

Fragrant with cedar carved and o'erlaid with gold,

Within altar and Cherubim in beauty shone. Yet not in beauty did that temple old Excel the ancient shrines of Pagan skill. But in the great truth it shone, avowed, One God. Jehovah! Israel's message still. Unity of mankind, oneness of God! Proclaimed that ancient shrine to every land ;

362

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

And thus began the upward trend to light, Peace, progress, liberty, on every hand. To-day we lay upon the blackened site Of what was once our pride and honest boast, Foundation of the new, that shall proclaim Once more our oneness and the gathered host From Hayes to Elk Creek, Sargent clear to Wayne!

Repeat in unison we meet again Foundation here to lay of this our house Of civic progress, justice, liberty. United stands our empire, that this house In size and beauty shall show fittingly. In wealth and standing. Custer, gracious queen Of mid-state counties ; may no ruthless hand Dissect one member from thy body fair.

But whole in strength and oneness may we stand.

Zoned by the silver Loups in triple flood. Seamed by green canyons, dark with ash and plum.

Thy tables lay in wide unbroken sweep. Thy busy towns with vim and progress hum. West Union, Lillian, and Victoria hold L'pon the north our farthest border line ; Grant, Loup, Elk Creek, Wood River, Wayne L'pon our south in constellation shine. Hayes, Arnold, Elim, mark our farthest west. Douglas Grove, Myrtle, and fair Algernon As eastward rolls the planet are the first To greet the golden arrows of the sun. Cliff, Kilfoil, Triumph, Custer, Broken Bow. Lillian, and Garfield, smiling Westerville, Delight and Custer. Ansley and Berwyn, too. The glorious roll call of our precincts fill. And as our fathers on this natal day Proclaimed their purpose and confederacy. And the foundation laid of unity : So in like hope and loyalty may we. Long may this edifice, whose corner-stone We lay, stand record to our hopes and aim. Temple of justice, pride of our commonwealth, Unbroken be our boundaries and fame.

A CUSTER COUNTY POET

Tom 11. Burlin, or Tommy Burlin. as he was known to the people of Merna, where he spent the last days of his life, was a real Cus- ter county poet. He was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Bradford Burlin. Unfortunately some disease that rendered him helpless fastened itself upon him in early life, so that for years he was not only confined to his room but to hi- bed as well. Thus he lay, year after year. with ossification of his joints slowly creeping on, so that he had but little use of his limbs.

Without complaint or murmur, he lay upon his couch and communed with the Muses. He was the anthor of several very popular songs. which received merited recognition and wide sale.

Perhaps the most popular of his songs was the "Little Bohemian Girl," which was publish- ed by a St. Louis house and had a very popular run. We also reproduce here a poem written by "Tommy," descriptive of early days in Cus- ter county, which was produced for a special occasion and made a decided hit when read at the old settlers' picnic, at which it was the feature of the program.

LITTLE BOHEMIAN GIRL

Far beyond the deep, blue Danube And the castles by the Rhine. O'er the snow-clad German mountains. Lives that little girl of mine. Like its gleam on golden Ophir Falls the sunbeam on her hair. And her face, like the Madonna, Is as pure as it is fair.

CHORUS Little Bohemian Girl,

Fair and as bright as a pearl :

Mly hope ever lies In your smile and your eyes ; Dear little, sweet little girl, Little Bohemian Girl.

From the plains of fair Nebraska, In the new land of the west : Soon my heart will send its message To the one I love the best. She will brave the storms of ocean. Cross the Danube and the Rhine, And will traverse plain and mountain. For her heart is bound with mine.

EARLY DAYS IN CUSTER

( Written by Tom H. Burlin, Merna, Nebras- ka, and read by Mrs. G. O. Joyner at the old settlers' picnic at Broken Bow, August 5. 1903)

Bright shines the sun on Custer's hills. Or softly falls the gloaming, Where once by all its living rills The buffalo herds were roaming.

Still glows the moon, her calcium light Falls now on field and meadow ; The myriad stars are shining bright Beside the Queen of Shadow.

363

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

But where are all the buffalo now And where the Texas cattle ?

Where fields of grain abundant grow, Rode cowboys in the saddle.

When ranchers curbed in wild career Their mustangs' wild vagaries, And grazed their herds, both far and near Across the broad prairies.

How changed the face of nature seems, By field and fences broken ; Almost as if it were in dreams We hear the old names spoken.

How strange, if now the Seven Bar Ranged twenty-thousand cattle ! Or Robert Olive's rising star Waned in a rustler battle !

Or that his blood had been avenged, The rustlers hanged and burning. By chance the public mind was changed, And to the thieves was turning.

Unscared, the elk no longer dwells Where once he loved to wander Through brakes and braes and sunny dells : Its home is here no longer.

No more the deer ungalled lies The shade of plum brush under. The antelope no longer flies Before the mounted hunter.

The canyons deep and silent lie, But sad indeed their story. No more the cedars pierce the sky, That lent them all their glory.

No more the elm tree's spreading shade Makes glad the weary toiler, The keen axe at its root has laid. It fell before the spoiler.

The romance of the former years - A saddened vein comes o'er us, And oft as through a mist of tears The old scenes rise before us. The spirit of adventure, then, Spurred all to grand endeavor ; Recurring, thrills our hearts again. Its memory lasts forever.

SOL. J. COOK

The following poem was written, in Merna, some time in the year 1903, by Sol. J. Cook, who was probably an intimate friend of Tom- my Burlin's. No one seems to remember the writer, but his work possesses merit, and we submit it because this especial verse was dedi-

cated to his friend, the late Tommy Burlin, of Merna.

THE POET ( By Sol. J. Cook)

Remote from mercenary throngs, In childlike faith and love absorb'd. A spirit wash'd of social wrongs, And eyes profound with wonder orb'd,

The poet kneels ; - his holy shrine, A Universe. What magic strains His reverent touch with divine Skill wakes, descends as summer rains,

On souls that wilt in the world's heat,

Awakening the tender bloom Of sentiment - that flower sweet, Which brightens life's else cheerless gloom.

Child of the seeing eye, and hand, Immers'd in seas of harmonies. Immensity thy cradle grand, Thy limits the eternities.

Close-clinging to dear Nature's breast, Whose lullaby soothes thy repose ; What dreams fold thine enchanted rest ? What mysteries to thee disclose?

Hark! what diffus'd delight doth thrall

Responsive souls! The poet-child, Midst his sweet dreams, again lets fall A jewel'd note undefiled,

Of sparkle rare, revealing 'gain Some hidden mine of Nature's realm .- A gem for man's eternal gain Wrought to enrich Love's diadem.

Aye! The world richer grows, when sings The bard; and tamer grows the beast, As from his lyre music springs, All things assume a golden cast.

MRS. MARTHA A. HUNTER

The Blue Book of Nebraska women. edited and compiled by Winona Evans Reeves in 1916, contained the following biographical sketch of Mrs. Martha A. Hunter :

"Martha Angeline Beck Hunter was born on a farm near Walshville, Illinois, in 1858. She is the daughter of Moses and Emily Car- oline ( Barlow ) Beck. ller parents were both of a high type of Christian character. Of Mr. Beck, his pastor said, 'He as fully meets God's description of a good man ( Isaiah 33:15-17). as any one I ever knew.' Her mother was the

364

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

daughter of a pioneer Presbyterian minister. In this Christian home, where the Blue Laws of the Presbyterian church were indeed law. Mrs. Hunter grew to womanhood. In 1877 she was married to Robert A. Ilunter, and two daughters were born to them, Violet Pearl ( Mrs. O. H. Venner, of University Place ). and Ivy Maud ( Mrs. Thad Farnsworth, of Grand Island). In 1889 the family moved to Custer county. to a homestead which is now a part of the Hunter ranch, Sunny Dell Cattle Ranch, near Broken Bow. The family lived here until 1894, when they became residents of Broken Bow. Mrs. Hunter is a member of the Presbyterian church and is an exemplary church woman. For many years she has taught a young men's Bible class in the Sunday school. She was the first president of Custer County Woman's Christian Temperance Union, and has spoken at many public meetings in behalf of temperance. She was a charter member of Chapter S. P. E. O., and has served as vice- president of the Nebraska Grand Chapter. She was a member of the woman's board of the Trans-Mississippi exposition, held in Omaha in 1898. For a number of years she taught in the grammar school. In 1915 she published 'The Story of the Four Gospels, for Boys and Girls,' and a temperance drama. 'Weighed in the Balance.' She is a woman of the greatest sincerity and wishes only to serve her day and generation and to merit the 'well done'."

MRS. A. H. STUCKEY

Mrs. A. H. Stuckey, of Broken Bow, is one of the most talented women in the county. Her literary work dates from her girlhood days, when she was a student contributor to the Cincinnati, Ohio, Enquirer and Gasette. At the time General Grant died. she entered a contest in which a prize was offered for the best poem-tribute to the military hero. Over 250 poems were submitted, but the effort of Mrs. Stuckey was awarded first place. She is a native of Ohio, where she spent her early life and passed through the public schools, grad- uated from the high school, and later she took a finishing course in the Ursuline College.

With her husband she came to Custer

county in 1881, and ever since she has had a prominent part in the public life of Broken Bow and vicinity. She has been a social leader, and tireless worker in educational circles. Her local song compositions have won much favor. The poems that follow are from the pen of Mrs. Stuckey.

The first poem, "The Lark's Returning." is taken from Donahoe's Magasine, a Boston publication. "The Goldenrod," the poem that follows next, has been extensively published throughout Nebraska, in which state the gol- denrod is in high favor. The "Service Flag." or the last of the three poems submitted here. is a product of the war and has been immense- ly popular because of its local adaption to any community in the commonwealth.

THE LARK'S RETURNING

O velvet throated bird ! You sit and sing. And call your playmate, to come echoing Your lay, alluring her, where'er you lead. Across the daisied mead.

No silvery notes, that swell thy siren strain. Can tempt her forth to round thy full refrain; Or follow thee, on tiptoe o'er the grass.

With arms outstretched. Alas !

How often I have watched her eager play. And heard the wild, sweet laughter die away, When all her pretty arts had proven vain To coax your song again.

One evening, when your vesper song begun. And she, the mellow cadences had run In measure true, an angel passing near Heard the notes so ringing clear.

Then up he sped across the Milky Way To tell the Seraphim. In envy. they Besought, why earth should know this magic rune, Their chords could not attune.

She nestled in my arms, the Vesper done. And prattled of the shadows where the sun Was playing hide and seek between the hills : Too tired. to mock your trills ;

When back the Seraph came : and from my arms

Lifted her, warm, pulsating with her charms. Then folded them across my empty breast - Song bird. you know - the rest.

365

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

And ever as you call before the door, I see thy playmate hasten as of yore ; The golden curls unbonneted, untwined, The harp strings of the wind.

My arms reach out to gather her again To their embrace. Hush'd is the melting strain. I fold them slowly o'er my hungry breast : Song bird, you know -the rest.

THE GOLDENROD

Hail noble flower! Thy peerless golden glory Is now emblazoned on Nebraska's crest. - Fit herald to proclaim her wondrous story, And like her, monarch of the mighty West.

No mortal hand assisted at thy sowing, The stars wept tears upon the barren earth; The dewy clouds knelt down to kiss them. flowing.

When lo! The travail of thy glorious birth.

And as since. each glowing constellation Has shared its splendors with thee. Golden Rod. Has taught thy golden heart, hymns of obla- tion.

That Heaven's stars breathe to the Triune God.

In vain, Aeolus and his wind god revel And scatter devastation through each bower. The violets wither, roses proud dishevel ; Thy scepter still defies his blighting power,

The pioneer beheld thy pristine beauty, Where for his dwelling thou bedecked the sod. Thy very life went out in love and duty Upon Penates' altar - Golden Rod.

When through old Nature's heart each warm pulsation Grows feebler, as the dying year grows old, Last of all thy race! O'er all the desolation, Shines out undimmed thy diadem of gold.

Hail, matchless flower! Long may thy golden glory Blaze out upon Nebraska's giant breast. Her fair escutcheon glittering with thy story, And with her, rule fore'er the mighty West.

THE SERVICE FLAG

"Twas twenty centuries ago. Against the whiteness of the dawn, There blaz'd a star of meteor glow. In splendor over Bethlehem's khan. The service banner of The Lord In heaven's window was unfurl'd,

And angel hosts awoke the chord That gave its message to the world.

Then, tyrants trembled for their might, Then, idols tottered to their doom. As through the deep of slavery's night That service flag first pierced the gloom. The shackles from men's souls were riv'n Where'er in majesty it shone. And freedom unto faith was giv'n. The world's democracy begun.

And proven ; when, on Calvary's height, Where gleamed the wondrous flag outspread. Was woven round its field of white. Golgotha's broidery of red.

No greater love than this hath man, That, for his friend, his life he give.

And in the rear guard, or the van, He dies ; that truth and freedom live.

Down thru the stress of centuries, Thru conflicts that have mark'd.each age. Thru rise and fall of dynasties, O'er unknown depths, thru tempest's rage. Have come these colors consecrate. The star of hope from out the skies, The white of faith, commensurate With red of love's great sacrifice.

The pilgrims brought them o'er the sea ; The patriot wore them in his heart : And when the arm of tyranny Was raised to wield the crushing dart, Old Glory to the world was born ; The red and white, her glist'ning bars. And blue, from heaven's dome was torn. To hold forever fixed, her stars.

God! how it pulsates to the breeze ! This flag infused with a soul.

Its song rings over farthest seas. And echoes back from pole to pole. It shouts, it calls, it thrills and swells With tidings of great joy, it gives ; Like pealing of ten thousand bells. Old Glory ! O! it lives! it lives !

For two score and one hundred years, It waves above a nation free. And, in its sacred covenant, clears The way to earth's democracy. When mad with lust of pride and pow'r, A tyrant hurls war's ruthless sway, And nations ery in that dark hour America! America!

Old Glory answers to her need, From East and West : from South and North, Where'er her glitt'ring stars shall lead, Her loyal sons spring bravely forth.

366

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

They kiss the hem of that dear flag. As kneeling, did of old, each sire; And vow no despot's hands shall drag Its honor thru dishonor's mire.

Then from each window, streaming bright. 'Neath lowly eave, and palace grille. Shines out a banner thru the night. Like beacon fires upon each hill. The flag that points the tyrant's shame : Its white, that scorns the coward's dross, The holocaustal red, its frame : Its star, enhallowed by the cross.

O lads, while at the Vesper hour You mark "attention !" as you stand, And music throbs, as proud hands low'r The starry emblem of our land, With misting eyes, your oath renew- To keep it without spot or stain, - We raise this service flag to you. Till you bring victory home again.

Hats off! and lift it to the skies. This banner of the heart and home : This pledge of service that our boys Swear by Old Glory's halidom, "That flag shall strive for the opprest, Until all peoples shall be free. Until all nations call her blest." Old Glory! God be praised for thee !

MRS. SABINA PENROD

Mrs. Sabina Penrod will be remembered as being a delightful, cultured woman. She and her husband cast their lots in the Yucahill district of western Custer county, shortly after the opening of the country under the Kinkaid Act, and there they lived for several years. She was a writer of unusual ability, and sold many poems to eastern magazines. Some of her most famous ones were "Nature" and "Life's Pathway." We submit here a poem inspired by the beginning of a "Perfect Day" in the Sand Hills.

Oh! the glories of the morning ! When the day begins to dawn, When the first faint streaks of sunlight Lightly fall across the lawn. From a night of peaceful slumber, Restful sleep. 1 gladly rise

And behold with admiration, Radiant beauties of the skies.

How I wish I were a painter : I would paint a picture fair. Of a rare and beauteous landscape. 'Neath a balmy-hazy air ; But I couldn't paint the beauties Of this life among the hills; There is something in its freedom That my soul with rapture fills.

In the days of early summer, When wild roses are in bloom, When the calls of grouse and chicken Echo with a constant boom. I love to stand at day-break And look out across the hills,

As the first rays of the sunrise With their light all nature thrills.

The shadowy hills and valleys And the smell of dewy grass, Mingled with the scent of roses. Leave a joy that will not pass ; And I know where'er 1 travel. I these lovely scenes will see. That, where'er my habitation, They will always dwell with me.

I will always sense their sweetness. In my heart these sounds will ring When the bees begin their humming And the birds begin to sing ; I will see the shadowy vapors Floating over vale and hill;

I will see the wild birds bathing. Hear their early morning trill.

will see the lowing cattle. Slowly moving as they graze, Hear the hoof-beats of the horses As I see the sun's first rays. I will see the beauteous colors Of the flowers and sky and sod. Feel the joy of ever.living Close to nature and to God.

GASTON'S RHYMES FOR PADDING

W. L. Gaston. the author of the lines below, in no way poses as a poet. He began his ca- reer in the field of journalism and won his first honors over the nom de plume of "Billy Rip- ton." He has done a good deal of commerical writing and a year or so ago engaged in story writing for a journal in the eastern part of the state, over the nom de plume of "Frank French." He is the author of "Cheliel's Mes-

367

HISTORY OF CUSTER COUNTY, NEBRASKA

siah," "The Window in Tom," and "California Jubilee History." He has been ten years in Custer county. In the winter of 1915 he re- moved with his family to Wayne, where he lived for one year. On his return to Custer county he wrote the following poem, entitled "Home in Broken Bow." Several of his rhyines have been set to music and published in several of the modern song-books. One is reproduced here, for padding out the column.

HOME IN BROKEN BOW

I've searched full half the world, or so. But find no place like Broken Bow. I've crossed the plains, where some love best. And climbed the hills to sunset west. I know the east, the north and south. From border lakes to river's mouth ; It matters little where I go, My heart goes back to Broken Bow.

I've stood beneath the domes of state. On carpets of the rich and great; I've walked with prophets, sat with kings. And heard the song the siren sings, Where zealots pray and sinners sin. But give me common folks and kin And let me have, while here below, A home-like home in Broken Bow.

I know the far-famed mines that hold The thrice rich hoards of yellow gold. I've seen the corn, like magic, grow. In deep soil'd vales where rivers flow. I've plucked the fruits and sipp'd the wines Of fine old trees and older vines. It matters little where I go, I claim my home in Broken Bow.

I love the dells and hill-land slopes. Where lazy sunshine lags and mopes : The alder-shaded homes and lawns, Where hustle breeds and plenty spawns. Men sing the songs of war or trade, Yet only home-like homes are made. It matters little where I go, My heart goes back to Broken Bow.

WALKING THE WATERS (By W. L. Gaston)

Jesus is walking the waters, Is walking in pow'r and might, To every boat on sea afloat. He's walking the waters to-night.

CHORUS :

He's walking the waters to-night. He's walking in power and might. Over the waves of dark Galilee, He's walking the waters to me.

Over the mad waves, deep rolling, He walks the dark Galilee ; Thro' wind and wave. He comes to save ; He's walking the waters to me.

Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.

History of Custer County, Nebraska; a narrative of the past, with special emphasis upon the pioneer period of the county's history, its social, commercial, educational, religous, and civic developement from the early days to the present time, Part 49

Author: Gaston, William Levi, 1865- [from old catalog]; Humphrey, Augustin R., 1859- [from old catalog] Publication date: 1919 Publisher: Lincoln, Neb., Western publishing and engraving company Number of Pages: 1180

Author: Gaston, William Levi, 1865- [from old catalog]; Humphrey, Augustin R., 1859- [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1919
Publisher: Lincoln, Neb., Western publishing and engraving company
Number of Pages: 1180