History of Iowa County, Wisconsin, Part 90

Author:
Publication date: 1881
Publisher: Chicago, Western Historical Company
Number of Pages: 958

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· Otterbourne, so bounteously supplied with all the essentials of a village site, never enjoyed an animate existence .- ED.

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by his own account had never had either father or mother that he knew, and who had picked up his living in the streets there from his fifth year." After knocking about here and there he had " at length reached what may be called the pathos of all human desires for an Englishman, the situation of driver of this most wretched stage, as he called it, which was dragged by two lame, miserable horses through a country without the vestige of anything like comfort.

" At the top of his strange physiognomy was stuck the filthy remnant of what had once been a fur cap ; about his neck was a disgusting handkerchief that had never been washed ; an old, ragged, red blanket coat, thrice too large for liim, covered his person, and beneath its ample skirts appeared two odd boots that had been patched and repaired so often that, as he said, they had been made nowhere. One of them, he remarked, was so plaguy large that he had cut a hole in the foot to let the water out, and the other was such a blessed sight to small, that he had cut a hole in that to let his toes out. Everybody we met seemed to know him except one per- son who said, ' Gineral, I guess its a toss up whether your horses or your stage break down first.' "

Mr. F. was enabled to attend at a trial for murder while he was at Mineral Point, and gives his impressions of the proceedings, describing the appearance and condition of the "court " and attendants without reserve or apology. Being an Englishman almost fresh from his native land, and used to the austerity and pomp of its court of justice, he could, in all prob- ability, only regard the one he describes with feelings of repugnance, and which doubtless gave tone and color to all he says; yet, beyond a question of doubt, as is now illustrated by the courts in the Western mining camps, the entire proceedings were anything but what they now are, or even what we can fully recognize them to have been. But virtue and the supremacy of the law in accordance with the mandates of reason and the needs of humanity, is a natural result which time, through the changes from barbarism to civilization, compels and fosters ; and though in an carly day the methods of administering justice in this locality may have been crude in effect, and inadequate at times to the magnitude of the offenses committed, yet at present the country stands redeemed from those errors as much through the efforts of the very men who committed them, in some instances, as by any other means. And then as now the people's opinions and the local customs were always, to a great extent, the laws which influenced the pioneers, who were standing almost outside of the pale of civilization.

Says Mr. F .: " I had heard much of a trial for murder that was to take place in the even- ing, and, as amusement and characteristic manners are usually to be found on such occasions. especially in the Western country, I went to the court house which was a log building made of squared timber. It was but a sorry exhibition of a court of justice, dark, and filled with filthy- looking men spitting about in every direction. The prisoner was an impudent ill-looking fellow of the name of McComber, and, it appeared on the trial, that in a revengeful spirit, for some sup- posed injury, he had stealthily followed up one Willard A. W., nephew of Gen. Dodge, the Gov- ernor of the Territory, and, seizing his opportunity, had shot him. The court was my old friend with his brecches on; but sorry I am to say he was ill-dressed, excessively dirty, unshaven, and had his jaws tied up in an old silk handkerchief, having, as he told the jury, ' got the mumps.'

"The Prosecuting Attorney who summed up exceeded all the pleaders I ever listened to for absurdity of language and bad grammar, and had evidently come from the very lowest class, the following was one of his grave passages intended to be very impressive :

"' Yes, gentlemen of the jury, he is proved to have been maliciously and aforethought con- triving this here business. He was seen walking up and down, backwards and forwards with solemnity, and, to make the act more solemn, he did the solemnest thing a man can do when he is coming to a solemn thought, and determines on it by the smoking of his pipe. Yes, he con- cluded by the smoking of the pipe, and, if that beent as you may say, putting the cap atop, why then I don't know what is.'

" The twang, the appearance, and gestures of the orator are wanting to do justice to this elo- quent passage. At the conclusion of this speech the court adjourned.

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HISTORY OF IOWA COUNTY.

" The next day or evening, when the court convened, a sealed verdict was sent in, finding the prisoner guilty, but," as Mr. F. states, " the Judge was in such a state of intoxication as to be unable either to address the jury or to deliver sentence; therefore, at the suggestion of Prosecuting Attorney, the court was dismissed. The most of those present were greatly dissat- isfied, and even the prisoner appeared to feel oppressed by the turn of affairs."

The next day, after breakfast, he says : "I returned to the court house to witness the con- clusion of this disgraceful affair. The Judge arrived and took his seat, with that wretched and haggered appearance that individuals bear who are far advanced in mania a potu, and after a few absurd phrases, sentenced the murderer to pay a fine of $300, and to be imprisoned until the fine was paid. The disgusting farce being over, the convict was conducted to the log hut which was appointed to be the jail, and as soon as they opened the door to let him in, I saw him make a couple of grand somersets, the last of which carried him into his lodgings. These consisted of a solitary log house, with one room on the ground, and a window with some bars ; no sooner had they locked him in than he began to crow with all his might. His numerous friends now went to talk to him at the window, and during the day, brought him food and whisky. In the course of the night he evaporated, and so ended the affair ; for as to apprehending him a second time, few persons would be found willing to attempt that, it being universally known that when frontier bloods of his caliber once imbrue their hands in blood, they entertain no scruples about taking the lives of those who come with hostile intentions against them."

BY W. P. RUGGLES.

I am what the "Pukes," "Suckers." " Hoosiers " and " Wolverines" used to call in early days a d-d yankee. My infancy, childhood and early manhood were passed in the town of Barre, county of Worcester, State of Massachusetts, near the historie town of Rutland, where the captured soldiers of Burgoyne were imprisoned, together with the Hessian hirelings, during the later days of the Revolution. I have often seen the old barracks where they were kept. Within ten miles of my home towered up famous old Wauchesett, which is to that country what the Blue Mounds are to this, and which has been celebrated in the annals of old Massachusetts from days immemorial. From this elevation, the bonfires of Bunker Hill could be seen during the days from 1775 to 1781, when a few daring aspirants for liberty were fighting the mighty struggle which made the nation and secured us of to-day the privileges of a free and united people. I will be pardoned, in view of the present grandeur and extent of the United States, for entertain- ing a feeling of pride at the thought that my grandfathers were both engaged in the Revolution. one on land and one on sea. I now have in my possession the powder-horn which Daniel Rug- gles carried at Ticonderoga, Crown Point, and at other places. The other, Zenas Phinney, an old sea captain, served with distinction during the struggle. While I was yet a small boy, the the war of 1812 broke out, and during that time my father was one of the minute men. I remember on one occasion, how a neighbor and my father were talking about war matters in front of the house, when the roar of artillery came to our ears very distinctly from the direction of Boston Harbor, 110 miles away. It was a beautiful and clear day in September, but we could not believe that it was the sound of cannonading until the arrival of the weekly mail in the neighborhood informed us that a British man-of-war had at that time been in pursuit of an American privateer.

I lived on my father's farm until I was twenty-one, going to school winters (when it stormed), so I did not enjoy the advantages of Yale or Harvard, but nevertheless, I managed to pick up enough information to enable me to hold my own against the world in after years. My father was of the Puritanical stock, and, as a matter of course, was very largely imbued with strong notions as to the value of time, etc., and consequently I was required to work early and late, from year's end to end, during week days, and go to church on Sundays. Thus were passed my boyhood years, tilling the rocky and sterile lands of the old Bay State; and we had to work, or the alternative, in any case, would not have been agreeable ; yet I was not unhappy. If we worked hard, we also played hard when we had the chance (which was not often). How

Mah Briga

DODGEVILLE.

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HISTORY OF IOWA COUNTY.

well I remember the happy evenings the young folks often had when gathered around the huge old-fashioned fire-place, telling stories and cracking jokes while we cracked hickory nuts, wal- nuts and butternuts and roasted chestnuts and drank eider. Sometimes we would send to the nearest town and get a fiddler and have a dance. Nearly every house had a big dining room, so we had ample room to cut a pigeon-wing and what-not. Such a thing as your waltzes, polkas, schottische and the like were utterly unknown in those days. I can well imagine the look of horror that would overspread the countenances of our grandmothers if they were to see their «lescendants go whirling around the room, frisking and gliding with searcely a beginning or end. When I reached my majority, I, like a large part of the youth of New England, hired out by the month to make my fortune (board and clothes, washing thrown in). I first worked for a Presbyterian Deacon, where I very soon learned the orthodox facts of that faith as well as the caliber of the man. I remember once of cracking some butternuts on Sunday, and receiving a lecture for the same. One day I was out plowing corn, when the old gentleman came into the field, and, after looking about awhile, he came up to me complaining because there was one row of corn less in the field that year than there was the year before. When I was a young chap, the great occasions of the year were training days, when all hands, both great and small, turned out to do duty for Unele Sam. Many a sham fight have I participated in, but never had an opportunity to smell powder in a genuine engagement. At that time, I was a popular aspirant for fame, and enjoyed the distinction of being Captain of a company, and with the other officers had to set up for the boys, which cost me all told each year about $50, nearly half of what I earned. So much for glory. At last, when I was about twenty-eight, I was elected Major of my regiment, but I had by that time become inflamed with a different ambition. The heyday of youth is soon over, and I determined before mine was done to strike out for a new country. where there was not so many competitive Yankees to strive against. A younger brother, Daniel Ruggles, an officer in the United States Army, and who afterward, greatly to his discredit, became a Major General in the Confederate service, was then stationed at Fort Winnebago, now Portage City. While on a visit home, he gave me a most glowing description of that country, which decided me as to the course I should take. After bidding farewell to many of whom I never again saw, in the spring of 1836, I embarked on the stage which passed my grandfather's door, and started, as I told them, to see the Mississippi River. The old gentleman rather dis- couraged my ardent expectations by shaking his head and telling me that in all probability I would not live long enough to make the trip, so very far did it then seem to be to the distant West.

At Albany, I left the stage and took the cars, on the first track laid in the State of New York, which were to transport me to Schenectady. Here we had to descend a hill, being bal- lasted by a car-load of stones on a side track, like a stone in the end of a bag of meal, which equalized the weight while we were descending, and which afterward drew our car back to the top of the hill. That was one of the old-fashioned contrivances which are now almost forgotten in the history of railroading. From Schenectady, I went to Buffalo on a canal-boat, then took the old steamer Monroe, which went thrashing and groaning along with a walking-beam, and came through to Detroit. The vessel was loaded with Eastern people, who, like myself, were going out West. This trip of 1,000 miles was a very prosperous one, as nothing of moment occurred to mar the course of the journey, unless it was the sea-sickness which kept two-thirds of the passengers stretched out from morning until night "easting up their accounts." At Detroit, I shipped aboard the brig Indiana for Chicago, where I arrived in the month of June. I thought when I got there that I was about at the end of the world for me, and would not have given a dollar for the whole town, but then was when I missed a fortune. There were six or eight lonesome looking log cabins, some Government buildings, and a little old tavern, which was standing the last I knew five years ago, and nearly the entire country for ten miles around was covered with water from three inches to two feet deep. In fact, it was a regular marsh. At this tiine, a stage was running through to Galena, which had only made thus far three or four trips, so that you could hardly discern the wagon tracks in the long prairie grass. On the stage

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with me were several passengers, among whom was George W. Jones, Territorial Representative at that time. We had to stop overnight twice on the way, and here we first began to experi- ence the real vicissitudes of a frontier life. The meals were generally bread, bacon and coffee, our couch a sack of hay, and similar pillow if we had any, with a blanket for a covering. At Galena, all was then bustle, the place being full of miners. I stopped there a day or so with Aaron Adams, the only tavern-keeper; then started with G. W. Jones for Dubuque and to see the Mississippi. The last-named place was then only a small village, with a mining and trading population. At this time, the strangeness of my situation struck me very forcibly. The people and their ways of doing and speaking were very different from what I had been accustomed to. The idea of calling a shilling a long bit, and a ten-cent piece a short bit, and a five-cent piece a picayune, was to me odd enough. I remained in the vicinity of Dubuque and Galena for the next two years, working for Mr. Jones, and, during that time, did not see more than two or three Yankees. Nearly every body and thing was Southern. Although I got along with the Southern- ers, yet we couldn't mix, especially at that time, when sectional polities ran very high ; but, as I was mightily in the minority, I usually managed not to obtrude my opinions to too great an extent.

In March of 1838, I first set foot in Iowa County, and came into the town of Ridgeway, bringing with me $100, a horse and an old stub-and-twist shot-gun. These articles constituted my all of worldly wealth. However, as for the future, so long as I had my health I did not care, for I was sure of pulling through all right in the end. I then went to work for Mr. Mor- rison, who was one of the very first comers into the county or town, at $20 per month, but that was not so much for a young man as was $10 per month in old Massachusetts, for everything that we bought here then was very expensive. I worked for Morrison that summer, and, dur- ing the same time, met with my first serious misfortune. One day, while we were working in the hay-field, a party of Indians came along and stole my horse and one belonging to Mr. Mor- rison. While we were returning from the field, we met the rascals riding them off; but, as soon as they saw us, they put whip to them and away they went. As quick as we could, we gath- ered a party of miners together and started in pursuit, and traced them as far as Madison, but did not find them. Eventually, I proved up on my nag, and, through the help of Mr. Jones. Gov. Dodge and others, I received from the Government the amount paid for the animal, which was deducted from the annuity of the tribe to whom the thieves were known to belong. In the winter of 1838, I worked for my board at another of the old pioneer's. George W. Hickcox (a New York State man), who has been under the sod for many years. He was one of the best inen we had in the county at that time or that have since come forward.

In the spring of 1839, I went to work on the old Hiekeox saw-mill. As soon as that was done, lumber was sawed, and, in 1840, the old grist-mill, well remembered by nearly every pio- neer within fifty miles or more, was built. During the greater part of the time I was with him. I had to drive team, and such a team I never saw. Mr. Hickcox had previously hired five differ- ent Southerners to drive his cattle, but, after a day or two, the fire-eater, on tiring of useless oathis, would be exhausted to no effect, and then they would abandon the post of driving "them ar cussed steers" to some other poor fellow. So, finally, I caine in for a share, and managed, from having been used to driving eattle when a boy, to get along with them, but, as the millwright said, they never would stand nor were safe unless chained at both ends. I stayed with Mr. Hickcox until the fall of 1841, then quit. But, when I came to figuring-up my worldly goods, I found that, after having worked hard in the lead regions for five years, I had but a precious little more in hand than when I started to come here. After looking the situation over, I must say I felt blue-no home and but little money. For the first time, I became rather despondent and had a mind to strike out for the flesh-pots of old Egypt. But better thoughts finally prevailed. I decided that the thing for me to do was to strike out and get a wife and start in on a new plan for myself. Accordingly, I donned my sweetmeats, a pair of skin-tight blue broadeloth pants and swallow. tailed coat of the same style and color, with huge velvet collar and brass buttons, tied up a change of garments in a handkerchief, clapped on my old bell-crowned stove-pipe hat, and my

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preparations for the journey were completed. From Mr. Hickcox's I went to Madison on the stage and thence took foot and walker's express to Milwaukee, which took several days. On the route, an inquisitive traveler, noticing my apparel, asked me where I was going, to which I re- plied, " I am in search of an old maid that I have never seen." In fact, I was going after a wife whom I had never seen, but, through the introduction of mutual friends, had corresponded with a young lady and had decided to have her, provided she would have me.

I took the steamer Bunker Hill and reached my destination, Huron, Ohio, on the 26th of October. That very evening I called on the lady, being introduced by a friend, paid my devo- tions, proposed on the spot, and, to make a long story short, was accepted. The following Sun- day, October 31, we were married by Father Gurly, the celebrated Methodist pioneer circuit rider. This was the last marriage ceremony performed by the old veteran. A few friends of the bride were present, but there were no cards nor wedding gifts. The whole affair was done on the Western plan of promptitude, without much love-making and less time to break the engage- ment ; but, one thing is certain, neither of us regret the step then taken, for we have lived as happy a life together as often falls to the lot of men and women. Within a week or two after

the marriage, we returned by steamer and team to our future home. The following winter I worked out, and, in the spring of 1842, I went to Illinois and bought four yoke of cattle, the first I ever had the pleasure of owning. Within a few months after, a wagon came on from Ohio for me, and I was ready to go to work for myself. For the next four or five years I broke land, hauled lead to market, and did whatever I could to get on, which, considering the times, was very fair. In June, 1843, the first forty acres of my present farm was entered, and, the same year. I built the first frame house in the town and the one that I now occupy, and where I expect to end my days. In the days that I teamed it, I went through enough, it seemed to me, to kill any one. Day and night I was going, rain or shine, heat or cold-nothing stopped me ; but that was the way every one had to do if they made more than a living at that time. Many are the nights that I have laid out, and sometimes been lost in a storm when I never expected to get out alive. When I first located on my farm, my neighbors in the country round would laugh at me, and ask if I ever expected to see a road running through this part of the country. I was then wont to tell them to wait, for we might yet live to see the travel going this way through to Madison. And sure enough, when the railroad came through to Mazomanie, the stages were taken off the old route, and were put on a new route which passed my door, and for several years my place was one of the principal stations on the way. The rush of travel at that time was tremendous; four-horse post coaches came through each day, some of the time loaded down with men, women and children going on to the new country.

When the lands in the northern part of the State came into market, in 1852, purchasers had to go to Mineral Point to make their entries, and many a night at that time every available spot in my house was occupied, as many as forty having stopped overnight. I might go on and tell volumes of interesting anecdotes and episodes, but it would be a twice-told tale. At last, after more than forty-three years of toil in the home and land of my choice, I find myself an old man. Nearly all of those who were then about me in the heat of the strife, have either moved away, or have paid the debt of nature, which I, erelong, will be called upon to pay. I have been an interested witness of the grand improvement made in Iowa County not only, but have lived to see a wonderful change effected throughout the entire country. In my youth, the idea that nearly all of this grand country would be threaded by railroads some time, was thought to be absurd, and such a thing as the telegraph had not been heard of. I remember, as an illustration, the first pair of shoes made with pegs which I saw ; how people laughed at the notion of sticking leather together with wood, but that was nothing compared with hundreds of changes and improvements that have been wrought within the last sixty or seventy years. I sometimes find myself wondering if the next half-century or more will be productive of so many new and useful inventions as have come into use during my life. I think not. It does not seem probable, yet it may be possible. But, whatever may transpire, I have learned to think that it will be as it should be, and with that, all ought to be contented.

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BY T. M. FULLERTON.

My first sight of Iowa County was March 19, 1841. It then included all the territory now in La Fayette County. I shall confine this paper chiefly to matters pertaining to the Methodist Episcopal Church. At that time, Mineral Point charge or circuit embraced Dodgeville and Peddler's Creek, now Linden ; but for want of preachers, Hamilton's Grove Circuit was added that year, all under the care of Rev. James G. Whitford, whom I came to assist on the added part. Mr. Whitford lived in a small house, rented for the purpose, next north of the old brew- ery in Mineral Point. My preaching places were chiefly in that part of the county now called La Fayette. They were Parkinson's Settlement (Fayette), IIamilton's Grove (Wiota), Father King's, Wolf Creek (Gratiot), James' Woods, Kentucky Grove (one and one-half miles northeast of where Darlington now stands), Willow Springs, and Garrison's (four miles east of Dodgeville). On this circuit Mr. Whitford preached occasionally, and I, sometimes, at his appointments.

On my first visit to Dodgeville, I was directed to call at the bachelor's cabin of John and Sam Hoskins, with whom lived Thomas Webster and another young man. There was no chapel. They conducted me over the ridge to the west, to the house of Squire James, where our meet- ings were held that year. The lloskinses lived in the " Hollow," as the north part of Dodgeville was called for years. After meeting, a friend conducted me by a bridle path across the brushy prairie to Peddler's Creek Chapel, nearly half a mile east of the present village of Linden. It was a log house, with no ceiling, the roof inside serving for that purpose. There was an English pulpit, reached by a step ladder, and when in it, the speaker had his feet on a level with the heads of a standing audience, and had barely room to stand in his box, for it was about three feet wide and as many deep. His words were the " droppings of the sanctuary " if they reached the people. But there were praying hearts beneath him, and he seldom found an easier place to preach. At Mineral Point, the old log-church still served for a place of worship, but soon gave place to a stone chapel, which was half of the present work-shop near the new church. It then, when first built, faced the town. Afterward it was enlarged to its present size, and the roof turned north and south.

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History of Iowa County, Wisconsin, Part 90

Author: Publication date: 1881 Publisher: Chicago, Western Historical Company Number of Pages: 958

Author:
Publication date: 1881
Publisher: Chicago, Western Historical Company
Number of Pages: 958