USA > Wisconsin > Rock County > Beloit > Past made present : the first fifty years of the First Presbyterian Church and congregation of Beloit, Wisconsin together with a history of Presbyterianism in our state up to the year 1900 > Part 17
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About sixteen years since, some counterfeiters occupied this hiding place as their workshop. A light shining out of the cave's mouth one evening, was seen from the opposite side of the river and led to their dis- covery. All were duly captured, and left nothing behind them but a bad name. After trying the first entrance we all clambered further E. to a sec- ond. In single file with a miner's lamp in front, a lantern for the rear guard, and those between in darkness, we crept and crawled along about ten rods into the interior of the bluff. The passage averaged three feet high and two wide, making several branches and turns. At one place the roof was not over twenty inches above the floor with a steep and muddy descent into thick darkness beyond. It seemed Virgil's " Avernum " with- out the "facilis descensus." By the utmost personal humiliation we passed through, downward and onward, a short distance, to an irregular chamber six feet high and just large enough for all to stand up in. As there was only dripping water, much mud and a very contracted passage beyond, we faced about and returned in reverse order to daylight. Emulating Excel- sior, we have now reached the top, to find spread out before us an exten- sive and beautiful panorama. At the water's edge, far below, our Gypsy seems but a toy boat. The deep channel in shore, where rafts tie up, is very plainly distinguished from the shallows beyond. Down stream, six miles west, is seen the double town of Muscoda, while, far across the river, wooded bluffs bound the southern horizon. The boys are all trying their best to throw a stone from this elevation into the river beneath, but only one, Ed. Seville, has succeeded.
Scrambling down to our boat again we shoved off and soon the familiar cry of the pilot, " Hard a larboard !" and the steersman's response, "Lar- board she is " indicated our onward progress An Irish crane flew up into a tree as we passed along the right bank and was shot from the moving boat by Ernest. A few rods above the bridge, at Muscoda, B., while casting the lead as pilot, dropped overboard a small compass. [This, and the after mysterious disappearance of our prized tomahawk hatchet (kindly made for the club by Mr. Messer, of Beloit), were the only losses of our expedition.] With a sudden whirl, hard a larboard, just a few feet above the Muscoda bridge draw, and a "Give way strong !" we brought up on the left bank and landed for dinner. Leaving the boat guarded, we walked half a inile to the inner town, and to the Smalley House, at whose bar all took a good drink, of ice water, straight. After engaging an artist to take a stereoscopic view of the club, we returned to Abbey's excellent turtle and soup dinner. (Have we since had many better?) About ten minutes were spent in ball practice, and then eight of us marched up town, by previous arrangement, to play (tell it not in Gath) a nine from Muscoda. We had time for only two full innings, with a result in our favor, of seven to three. The follow- ing hieroglyphic will reveal to the initiated, our individual measure of guilt and glory :
The G. B. B. C. case. Verdict : Guilty of victory. Sentence : All to be hung in the noose, matrimonial, until they die.
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Name. Position. O. R
Name.
Position. O. R.
1. Wat. Redfield, C. 1
1
5. Tom. Hicks,
2 B. 1
1
2. Ed Seville, P. 1
1
6. Port Haven. 3 B. 0
1
3. B. S S. (?) 1
1
7. W. Snow, Jr , R. F. 1
0
4. Ed. Penfield, 1 B. 0
2
8. Arthur Helm,
L. F. 1 0
The above legal record of his own short-comings, by the "Keeper," is a purely esoteric communication which must not be made exoteric.
-
THE GYPSY CLUB. Brown, E. Helm, Abbey, A. Helm, Snow, Penfield, W. Helm, Haven, Hicks, Seville, Redfield.
Returned to the boat, at 5:30 P M., we quickly set up our tent on the smooth rock platform of the shore, there. With a piece of charcoal, B. marked the Gypsy's name on her starboard bow. Our artist, J. W. John- ston brought his big gun into position on the roadway above. We all looked as solemn, for a moment, as though about to be executed and the bloodless deed was done. This stereoscopic view was taken, looking N .- W., with the Wisconsin river and distant shore for a background. After posing once more for a large photographic negative (which has proved very satisfactory), we quickly struck tent, loaded and manned our boats, and dropped down the river. Landing on a steep bank, at the left, a quarter of a mile below the bridge, we soon had our camp arranged close to shore and all in order for the night. A new moon was just setting as we gathered for supper about our camp-chest lid. At rest in the still evening, under the bright starlight and brighter auspices of the planets Mars and Jupiter, we named the spot Camp Victory. Although our lamps went out (for lack of oil), yet the door of sleep, friend alike to victors and vanquished, was not shut. Soon the only sounds to be heard were the steady, romantic ripple of the flowing river, and the equally steady but unromantic rumble of the cook's snore.
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Wednesday, Sept. 12th. Wind still ahead. For the first time since starting we had no game, and attacked a " Plevna " of salt pork. With its various outworks of boiled potatoes, fried pudding, bread and butter and coffee, it was, however, promptly captured, and we made no prisoners. Nine o'clock saw us off with the lifting fog, and at noon Port Andrew on the right bank was reached. Here we " devoured the land " to the extent of one pound of grapes each, without visible loss of appetite. Shortly after starting on, the disreputable Rover, manned by Cap. and Port, ran up to a bar and had to be fairly dragged off by his mortified guardians.
On our left we pass Prairie du Bai, bounded half a mile inland by a high plateau. Thick woods on both sides of the river, supported by the steep bluffs of its ancient bank, form a succession of beautiful views at every bend.
Under W. S. Jr.'s skillful instruction we have all learned to feather our oars with increased effect; the two boats make a trial of speed, and the Rover's crew are left far astern. In their excitement they lose overboard the chaplain's valise. It was recovered with contents soaked, but, unfortu- uately, the log-book was not among them. At the Boscobel wagon-road bridge, where the Gypsy had to lower mast, our positions were reversed and the Rover led. See that long flat boat, the DeSoto, aground on our right. She is like her namesake in this, at least, that the river which was her high- way and honor, has become her grave. With especial interest, we now enter Dark Schute, a stretch of the river where, for a mile, the banks are within about ten rods of each other, and the confined current has dug out a continuous, deep channel. After scraping over so many shallows, we leave this natural illustration of Eads' jetty system with a wish that our log were more like it in depth and the schute more like our log in continuity.
Two miles further down, at 4 P. M., a camping spot on the right bank was chosen, and we drew to shore for the night. Hunters and fishermen at once sought their prey. B. brought in two rock bass, Ernest a partridge, Art. a pigeon, and Walt. a duck. When Walt. appeared, his aldermanic appearance caused general concern, until from under that real gypsy jacket came three watermelons and a musk melon. His model report .- "Saw a farmhouse with a melon patch before it. Noticed that all the large melons had been picked (a case of experienced observation), but for ten cents bought what was left and found five. One got broken on the way, and we had to eat it to save it." Shortly after the duck was brought in and laid on a stump, Cap. looked at it rather solemnly for a moment, and the following conversation took place :
Cap .- " What's this ?"
Walt .- " A duck."
Cap .- " Where did you get him ?"
Walt .- " About three-quarters of a mile from here, close to a farm- house. Went through weeds as high as my head. There were two and I hit this one."
Cap .- " You've shot a tame duck !"
Walt. (hotly and ungrammatically ) .- " That ain't no tame duck "
Another .- " Walt. has shot a tame bird. Chaplain, what do you think?" B. (cautiously ) .- " It looks somewhat like a young tame drake."
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Walt., indignant, is almost ready to assert that it had a visiting card hung around its neck with " wild duck " printed on it. Indeed, pointing to the blue-tipped primaries and wing coverts, he triumphantly declares them a regular card of introduction, presenting Mr. Blue-winged Teal. As no farmer called for damages, all finally agreed that this duck must have been wild. The Rev., whose turn had come to dress game, speedily trans- formed it into a " Plato's man," and at supper we met on common peaceful ground.
Under bright starlight and an increasing moon, all rowed across to a dry bar near the farther shore and enjoyed a refreshing swim. Later in the evening occurred a melancholic scene, which would have pleased Dr. H. A board covered with melon rinds ! Our benevolent W. S., Jr., while stooping over the bank to dip a pail of water, is pelted simultaneously by all but Wat. R. and B. The hot blood of the Snows is up, and turning, he dashes his pail of water over the only two innocent men in the company. Some one having suffered, the difficulty was considered settled and peace pledged in a draught of river water that was not. From the abundance of game and of the genus Culex, this was named Camp Plenty.
Captain R. had selected the smoothest spot that he could find for our tent. On retiring, however, every one found his particular resting place very hilly. Had my own been in Lilliput, it might have been called a range of Sierra mountains. A general smoke having driven out mosquitoes, each man fitted himself to the topography of the country under him, and all were quite comfortable until they wished to turn over in the night for a change of position. Then there was a muttered grumbling as of a Lilli- putian earthquake, and the air became slightly blue but not with lightning.
Thursday, Sept. 13. For the first time in our cruise, the rising sun revealed no mist, and its light, shining horizontally through low trees, pro- jected charming silhouettes of their foliage on the white, translucent tent side. B's night line produced a small cat fish and a soft-shelled turtle. Port found a drift-log of red cedar from which several cut pieces for souve- nirs. Chaplain B. procured one and carved it into a spoon, as shown, which will ever remind him of Camp Plenty, and his life's first experience in picking a wild duck. (See p. 216.)
A game breakfast having been fully enjoyed, Wat. and Art. started on in the Rover. At 10 A. M., oars were shipped and we were off. A long hour's row brought us to Boydtown (R. B.), on the bluff, with a fine spring close to shore below. Was it on account of our alarining appearance that two respectable women and a boy left the spring and hurried up the hill as though pirates were after them? The youth had indeed a suggestive jug, but we did not seize it, for when peaceable W. S., Jr., carrying a revolver, caught up with him determined to have milk or blood, he found it only a water jug and at once professed the most kindly intentions.
Shooting under the Mil. & St. P. R. R. bridge at this point we soon reached a high bluff, noticeable for its size and symmetry, and the mnouth of Green river, which enters from the south. Its heavily wooded channel, where tall elms lean affectionately toward each other from opposite banks, was worthy of more than a passing glance. On our right were left Wauzeka and the mouth of the Kickapoo river. Two miles further we visited a spot on the left bank called Indian Graves. Here a wooded ravine descends
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abruptly to the water, and the high bluff just east shows on its worn sum- mit a gigantic human profile.
In the fall of 1832, during the Black Hawk war, I am told, a band of Indians were chased down this ravine, where nearly all were killed and buried. Raftsmen have occasionally dug up bones. We found only a few chip- ped flakes of white quartz and flint. The rock senti- nel overhead, looks down on a peaceful valley now, but, to one standing on the spot, a very slight effort of imagination pictures anew that scene, the fierce, paint- ed warriors dodging from tree to tree, the smoke· of SQUAWS, THREE GENERATIONS. battle, the wounded and dying, the dead, strewn *along these slopes like the Autumn leaves on which they fell.
Tom H. kindly volunteered to push us off, and in jumping on board was himself immersed. It was his first dip, and sun and wind soon effaced all its impressions.
Our only dangerous accident occurred to-day. The acting pilot took us a little too near a point from which a large dead tree projected its branches over the channel. Ed. P. was reclining at full length near the mast when it caught six feet of a thick and brittle limb. This broke off immediately over him and fell on our boat with a heavy· blow. A sudden, athletic spring, however, had taken his head just a few inches out of the way.
The wind, being strong and dead ahead all the morning, has raised some sea, and the rowing calls for muscle, which is duly displayed. Bluffs are steeper and heavily wooded, and the scenery becomes more varied and beautiful. There is a raft of hoop-poles ; yonder, one of red cedar posts, ashore and piled for re-shipment. Those two timbers, lodged across each other on that point, are a couple of Mr. S.'s railroad ties, calmly waiting, like twin Micawbers, for something to turn up.
3 P. M. found us ashore for camp at Wright's Ferry, seeking letters and awaiting the Rover, which had gone up Kickapoo river to Wauzeka for sup- plies. Here Tom H. and Ed S. decided to take the next train for home, as their vacation was nearly over. There being no postoffice Ed. P. and Ernest
*NOTE .- This story more probably refers to the final destruction of Black Hawk's band at their attempt to cross the Mississippi about two miles S. of the Bad Axe river, although it may describe some other contest. In the year before his death Black Hawk said to some friends, " Rock River was a beautiful country I liked iny town, my corn fields and the home of my people. I fought for them." He died Oct. 3d, 1838, aged 71. His portrait is at Madison, Wis. Hist. Soc. art room. (See Wis. Hist. Soc. Collections, Vol XII. pp. 262-263. )
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started down the railroad track to Bridgeport for our mail, and Walt. went hunting without the finding. Wat. and Art. arriving, reported having seen
WISCONSIN INDIANS MAKING BIRCH BARK CANOES.
a lodge of Indians on the Kickapoo river, which was not our reason for at once deciding to move on and camp at B. In consequence, Snap had to leave us, and we bade good-bye to his master and Tom, our genial younger members, with regret. Oh, lovely and too fascinating woman, to you, we fear, may be ascribed this premature breaking of our Gypsy circle. Ed. had indeed promised his father to return in two weeks. If all similar promises are kept as well, his business character and success are assured .*
Leaving the Rover for absentees, we sailed quickly down through Snaggy schute and went into camp "Progress," on the left bank, a quarter of a mile above the road bridge. B. did not quote Peter on fishing, but went and returned with a small inexperienced catfish. Supper found all together again. Wat. and Ernest visited Bridgeport and brought back-how welcome letters!
Friday, Sept. 14. Two experienced, early-rising catfish secured B.'s bait, and were served for breakfast. With baggage sent on before, under Ernest and Art., in the Rover, at 9 A. M. the Gypsy resumed her wanderings. Below the bridge sails were set and, with successful tacking and rowing against an unfavorable breeze, we hastened on. "Passed four noted shoals, called "The Hen and Chickens." Our boat, which when loaded, draws twelve inches, barely slides over the trying Mississippi bar. A side wind drives the Gypsy upon a shallow, from which her devoted friends quickly lift her into channel. The river's mouth is before us. A strong breeze
*He did succeed, and is now a wealthy citizen of Lodi, Wis., and a prominent member of our Presbyterian Society there.
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rushing up the Mississippi raises white-capped waves and crowds our boat towards the north against a low sandy point. Rounding this and immedi- ately hoisting sail, with a new sense of freedom we dash off before the wind up the great Father of Waters. Viewing these bolder bluffs, the larger volume of water and rocking waves, one can imagine something of brave Marquette's exultation, when two centuries ago, in a bark canoe, he led where we have followed, and here discovered the upper Mississippi.
Signaling the Rover, which had gone across to the Iowa shore, we took her in tow. Fish were jumping close to the boat. B. enthusiastically cast a hook on the right side of the ship, but with so much vigor that line and all went overboard. The rudder was now shipped, centre board pushed down, and the main sheet rigged with block and tackle. A passing steamer, "Belle of La Crosse," left rolling waves for us to ride ; and, as the Gypsy under full sail bounded lightly over them, we shouted to one another, "Isn't this glorious?" Just then the rudder was knocked loose, our boat shipped a small sea, and began veering towards the trough of the waves. "Pass me that steering oar! Quick! Take in mains'1!" The sail was lowered before one could say Nebuchadnezzar, an oar promptly run out astern, and the Gypsy brought bows on to the waves again.
With Captain Wat. steersman, Ed. P. holding the jib lines, and Port pilot, we now kept a straight course for S. McGregor, and at 1 P. M. drew to shore just above the steamboat landing. Having left Ernest on guard, the rest marched up town under a hot sun, looking into shop windows and noticing the well-dressed ladies, with almost as much interest as if we were viewing civilization for the first time. On our way back Chaplain B., cau- tiously avoiding several mild beer saloons, took our party into the restaurant- half of a regular brandy house, as was afterwards discovered, and all cele- brated progress with the oriental sherbet.
At 2 P. M., having decided to camp on an island diagonally across the river, S. E., the Rover was sent in advance, the Gypsy's mast lowered, and Wat. and Walt. pulled her against wind and wave to the spot chosen. We pitched our tent on the bank, facing the river, near a protecting clump of trees, and made all secure for a coming storm. Our peaceful rest after sup- per was disturbed by a visit from three meddlesome youth in a boat. As their language invited correction. Port and Walt. jumped into the Rover to give chase. It was a long pull, but the enemy were headed off, driven ashore, and through our telescope we witnessed an honorable capture and capitulation. The offenders were released on good behavior, (which was afterwards shown), and our guardians of law and order returned in triumph.
While all were engaged in athletic sports on the beach, great clouds, which had been rolling up over the McGregor bluffs, suddenly broke above us, and caused a rush for shelter. With full thunder and lightning accom- paniment, this, our first tempest, charged on the tent, and its artillery dis- charges of rain beat fiercely against the frail canvas. But we couldn't be taken by storm. In an hour it had passed off, leaving only a good name, "Camp Storm." At midnight heavy rain began again ; several dreamed of being afloat, awoke to the inconvenient fact, but endured it most amiably. The Chaplain's huge umbrella, unappreciated before, now did good yoeman's service and kept the preacher and the log, both as dry as ever.
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In Camp, Saturday, Sept. 15. After an ample fish breakfast, B. circum- ambulated the entire island without finding one good fishing spot. A com- pany of ducks in a lagoon at the lower end were cautiously approached by . Wat., Art. and B. The latter fired at a passing flock and shot a large marsh snipe, which flew up just behind them. Art. knocked over three of the swimmers, but an impassable muddy shore prevented our getting anything. On the whole, we are convinced that nearly all of them were disreputable mud-hens, not fit to eat.
Leaving B. to keep camp, the rest, in the Gypsy, sailed half a mile down stream along the Iowa shore, to visit the well-known "Pictured Rocks." In a little ravine among high bluffs, weather and water have worn the sandstone, revealing its regular bands of almost all the primary colors. Contrasted with a green hillside, steep bluffs above, and the river below, the brightly stained walls and caves produce a pleasing effect.
Towards evening three of the club visited Prairie du Chien in the Rover. After tasting the artesian water, which was flat, some sundries, which were not. and passing inspection by the night watch, we rowed back down the still river under bright moonlight. Fish were leaping, ducks flying by, a large swan sailed overhead, the light of our camp tent home shone across the water, and we floated in the very poetry of rusticating. At night came more rain, and we floated in its prose.
Sabbath, 16th. A small but respectable delegation of three, represented our club at the 1st Congregational Church of McGregor, in the morning, and Chaplain B. was hospit- THE WILD SWAN .* ably captured by the pastor, Rev. Mr. Cragin. Through the twilight, seven of us rowed across to evening service, furnishing our own preacher. For that bouquet of Japan lily, tuberose, verbenas, foliage plant, etc., which the ladies sent us, we can only record our thanks.
Monday, 17th. Wind north. 9.30 A. M. saw us off before a favorable breeze, sailing rapidly by the mouth of the Wisconsin and down this greater river. While gliding over shallow places, through the clear water we see continuous little ridges in the sandy bottom, extending at right angles with the current, and forming a succession of broad easy steps down stream. Now comes an abrupt descent to deep water, and our boat seems to shoot off the bar into space.
On this, the worst part of the river, our U. S. government has estab- lished and maintains regular marks and lights to show the ever-shifting channel. Here, at the right, is station 175, with a lantern; there on the left. No. 178; and again, on the right, No. 179 with its light.
At 11:30, stopped ten minutes alongside of Clayton village to mend our
*NOTE .- The above etching represents a white swan which was shot on Rock river, Wis., about six miles south of Beloit, by H. S. Baker, Dec. Ioth, 1895. The height of the bird was 4 feet, I inch ; length of body, 2 feet, 7 inches ; spread of wings, 6 feet, I inch ; weight 25 pounds. It was mounted at Rockford, Il1. While waiting for a train at Janes- ville, Wis., I saw it in the Grand Hotel and made this sketch, Jan. 14th. 1896.
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broken jib-halyards. Here on the shore, B. picked up a short, hollow sec- tion of a bleached bone. (Which, carefully carved and fitted with a shell bottom, is now privately honored as The Gypsy Cup).
Under way again, we pass in fine style the steamer "Minneapolis," also "The Clyde," pushing a barge up stream. Now the Gypsy enters Cassville slough (so called ) twelve miles long. Leaving Guttenburg on the right, and Glen Haven on the left, we notice something new to us, a thick and tall willow forest. What is that great black cross, painted on a large white board at our left ? It is a channel mark and means, "Cross over to the other
RYPSY
bank." We do so, and find there a similar sign which directs us across again to still another. Following this zig-zag course several miles, with high bluffs on our left, we find the river turned at a right angle toward the east. Soon the channel becomes narrow, bends to the right, and then very sharply to the left, a gigantic capital S. All steamers while in this turn, (like well-regulated boys in a cake-cupboard) are required to keep whistling until they get out. After leaving the S, we were just making a graceful tack in sight of a passing steamer, when the main sheet getting loose, our boom swung out, caught on a wave and the Gypsy suddenly took in four or five barrels of water. She righted immediately, however, and the boat pump, assisted by vigorous bailing, soon relieved us of this extra cargo.
Are those floating scare-crows, Indians? No, only a couple of river tramps in an old scow, under a tattered blanket for a sail, and apparently bound for the bottom.
Passing the stern-wheeler "J. W. Vansant," we rode the high waves in her wake with much exhilaration at a kind of easy, nautical canter.
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3 P. M. saw the G. C. lunching on the lee side of a lumber pile at Cass- ville, thirty miles from McGregor. Six miles further down, after passing station 196 and Buena Vista on our right, at 5:30 P. M., we went into camp on the Wisconsin shore. Our heavy mess-chest is tugged up the high bank, the stove planted and our tent pitched under a fine elm tree near the river. The fishing interest labors under difficulties of low water and marine hard times, for with much coaxing the great Father of Waters affords Ernest only a kitten-fish four inches long. After supper B. gets a couple of five- pound catfish, Art. shoots a fat woodcock, and Abbey a slender snipe, S. vul- garis. From abounding drift-wood on the sandy beach our first genuine camp-fire was here built against a huge back-log, and became such a crack- ling, blazing pyre as the shade of Dido would have approved. In fact, two wet and shivering shades from the lower regions did approve it. Our river tramps, an old man and a youth, overturned by the strong breeze (or stronger whiskey), had managed to recover their boat, and, attracted by the cheerful light, now took refuge with us. Just escaped from a watery grave, as they stood steaming and quarreling before our fire, the stout young man care- lessly joking and the elder swearing horrible oaths at every trembling sentence-the sadness of a reckless youth, and a wicked, comfortless old age, required no further illustration.
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