Sangamon County, Illinois - City of Springfield 563, 1881 (part 7 of 25)

"At that early day, more than half a century back, the disadvantages in the article of cotton was the labor in picking the seeds from it so as to prepare the cotton for the spinning wheels. There were then no improved spinning jennies invented, and the old fashioned wheels were the only means of preparing the threads for the looms. Two classes of wheels were used at that day; the little wheel, so called, was turned by the spinner, with a crank on an axle running through the centre of the wheel. The other was known as the big wheel. The j^erson spinning on this wheel was always on foot and in motion. The thread was drawn out as the motion was given to the wheel. The operator on the little wheel sat still, and produced the motion with their feet. The big wheel gave opportunity for the display of elegant and graceful motions, which I have often seen performed, even to the steps of the dance, by the modest and pretty pioneer lasses of the olden time.

" The cotton cloth was at that day wove in the country, or at least so far as Illinois was concerned, in looms worked by either men or women. It was rather an art or trade to weave, and jjeople thus accomplished traveled frequently over the country for work. The invention of a cotton jenny, made with wood or iron rollers, was subsequently perfected, which aided much in extracting the seeds from the cotton, but the great invention of Whitney, of the iron saws, piopelled by horse power, laid all previous discoveries in the shade and immortalized the inventor. That illustrious man has accomplished as much for the benefit of mankind as the inventor of thft steam engine, and has acquired a fame which will hand his name down to posterity as one of the great benefactors of the human race. It will be borne in mind that probably twothirds or more of the human race are clothed in cotton, and that before this invention, cotton fabrics were almost as costly as silk.

"In the pioneer times of which I have sjjoken, much amusement and innocent mirth were enjoyed at the "cotton pickings," as these parties were called. The whole neighborhood would assemble on these occasions, and the log cabins, in the evening of a winter's night, would be brushed up to perfect neatness, and made still more attractive by the large fire in the wooden chimney, with rocks under the fore sticks in place of andirons. A large pile of cotton was spread out to dry, so it could be picked the easier. Generally, two sprightly young ladies were elected to divide the heap of cotton, and then the hands began to pick it; so that a contest for victory would excite the two contending parties, by which the more cotton would be picked, and with additional merriment. The last, indeed, was the main object of the young folks. The lady leaders chose their side to pick alternately, and then a general tornado of excitement began - picking, talking, and hiding the cotton, and all sorts of frolicking in the sphere of a backwoods cotton picking. A perfect equality and the best good feeling pervaded the whole company, and each one enjoyed as much innocent merriment as is generally allotted to man. Art or improper education had not spoiled either the morals or the symmetry and beauty of their persons; but they exhibited the superior workmanship of Nature over the foolish fashions of wealth, without sense, and spurious refinement without taste. The words of Nature's poet involuntarily forces itself upon us:

" ' Yes, let the rich deride and the proud disdain The simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, cougeuial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art.' "

"Frequently, at these gatherings, the youngsters presented masterly models of symmetry and beauty, and such that neither wealth nor fashion can ever surpass. But as the pen cannot describe the beauty and brilliancy of human excellence, the comeliness of the figures of the early pioneers of Illinois must pass away and be forgotten. <*

"At these ' cotton pickings ' love always became the ruling theme, as this passion always will occupy the virtuous and elevate the heart; and many a pioneer courtship and marriage received their date from some such gathering. But those happy times have passed away, and the race has now well nigh passed away with them."

"I emigrated from the State of Ohio, leaving Fort Harrison and arriving in the »'St. Gamee country' in the fall of 1821, making the first track that could be followed to the forks of the 'St. Gamee' to the head of the Okaw.

on the nortli fork of the St. Gamee, except a few in and about Mechanicsburg. But above that point, there were none except where Decatur now stands, a man by the name of Stephens having made a settlement there. I found Elijah lies and Charles R. Matheny where is now the city of Springfield. The Kickapoos were here then, and I have had many a social hunt with Basse na and Joe Muney, the chiefs of that nation.

"In the spring of 1822, myself and the Dillons raised a cabin, broke the prairie and planted corn in Tazewell county, where stands the town of Dillon. There were no settlers on the east side of the Illinois riverfrom thence to the lake, except Mr. Kinzie's, where the city of Chicago now stands.

"On my return I ci'ossed the Illinois river by putting my wagon in two Indian canoes and swimming my horses alongside. On the west bank I found Abner Eads and another settler. During that fall the land in Sangamon county came into market. The first entry was made by Israel Archer, being the west half of the northwest quarter of section eight, township fourteen north, range four west, and the tract of land on which now stands the present Cotton Hill Methodist Church.

" It is well known now that Robert Pulliam built the first cabin in Sangamon county. The first barn was built by Mr. Rogers, near Athens, in what is now Menard county.

"In the spring of 1826, J. Miller and myself, left Sangamon county for the lead mines on Fever river. We fitted out in Peoria, and started in a northwest direction, carrying our provisions on our horses. In consequence of being unacquainted with the route we missed our course, and suffered almost starvation for three days - so much so that all the nourishment we had was a fish about as long as my hand, and coffee made from the boiling of a coffee sack. With hard travel, and greatly fatigued, we reached Fever river in seven days, where we found a few miners. I believe we were the first from Sangamon county. In a few days we heard of Lake Phelps being there also. I am not able to say whether he landed previous to us or not.

" Much has been said about the origin of the word ' Sucker,' in its application to the people of Illinois. Late in the fall of that year I was standing on the levee, in what is now Galena, watching a number of our Illinois boys go on board a boat bound down the river, when a man

"Those who stayed over received the humble name of ' Badgers.' That was the lirst time I ever heard the term 'sucker' applied to the people of Illinois. After that, all Illinoisans were considered suckers, and when Judge Sawyer came to the mines, he was called 'King of the Suckers.'

" In the spring of 1827, a great number of Missourians came to the mines. The Illinois boys returned the compliment of the Missourians by saying that 'Missouri has taken a ptcke,^ and after that all the people from that State were called 'Pukes.'

"At this time, we had a scrimmage with the Winnebago Indians, which has been made the subject of history. I returned to Sangamon countv in the fall of 1828, from my northern tour.

"The winter of 1830-31 was the winter of the deep snow. It was with the greatest difficulty we could find our shocks of fodder, they were so enveloped in the snow. My father-in-law lost his life in the snow-drifts on the prairies of Sangamon. Game, which had heretofore been always plenty, was nearly destroyed by the cold. Then was the time to try men's metal. The men of our day think that they see hard times. They forget the want of conveniences and privations encountered by the pioneers - oftentimes compelled to wade through the streams up to the arm-pits and break ice to get the teams across, and, to cap all, to ride through perfect fields of fire, caused by the burning grass of the prairies, in the fall and winter, and lie out all night wrapped in a blanket on the cold, bleak prairies. And yet, freed as is the present generation from such privations, we hear more grumbling from them than from men who had in reality to earn their bread by the sweat of their brow.

"I am now in my fifty-fifth year, and claim to be the father of eleven children, and can say with cei'tainty that I have never been intoxicated, have never used tobacco in any shape or form, or any narcotic, and never was sued for debt of my own contracting."

Auburn And Vicinity Foetv Years Ago By

"Theyoungpeople of the ))resent day can have but inadequate conception of the appearance of this country forty years ago. The prairies were generally a trackless waste, save the Indian trails that were still visible, and an occasional, and rarely used wagon track. The settlements, with very rai'e exceptions, were confined to the timber line. When the writer first knew this region, there were but two fields fenced between Old Auburn and the farms along Lick Creek. One of them belonged to George Eastman, on the west side of Panther Creek, (now a part of John L. Mason's farm), and the other was owned by Piatt S. Carter, now of Loami township, and is included in J. M. Lochridge's farm. No one resided on either of these places, though Mr. Carter had a barn built and an unfinished house, into which he moved the following winter. The first settlers, who were almost exclusively from Virginia and Kentucky, universally selected their land with a view to its contiguity to the forests, and embracing a good proportion of the same, not seeming to think it probable that the vast prairies would ever be occupied. Indeed, any man who bought and improved land out in midprairie, at that day, was laughed at for his folly. lie labored under several disadvantages, it is true. The wild prairie grass growing to a height of five to seven feet, was the nursery of myriads of horse flies, that, in hot weather, tortured the stock fearfully. Then, in the winter, stock owned by prairie farmers, suffered terribly from the bleak winds, as hardly any one had any better shelter for his animals than a rail fence, and, during severe weather, if not kept up, they would find their way to the woods for comfort.

"The first houses were all unhewn log cabins. In 1840, a few of the most prosperous had begun to 'put on style,' and there were a number of story and a half mansions of hewed logs. Some people even were so extravagant as to have their houses olapboarded, and there were in Southern Sangamon a number of small frame houses, and an occasional small brick building. The lumber used at that day was all hard oak, walnut, cherry, ash, sycamore. Pine lumber had not been introduced here, there being no railroads, and to haul it in wagons from St. Louis or Alton, would make it an expensive luxury.

" Could the farmers of the present day have the privilege of comparing the ftock of horses, cattle and swine of this country, of forty years ago, with that of the present day, they would almost be led to swallow the theory of evolution, so remarkable has been the change and improvement. But in no direction, perhaps, has there been so marked a progress as in the methods of farming and implements. My recollection extends back to the time when plows with wooden mould boards were used altogether. These would be considered very inefficient implements now, but were looked upon then as the best that could be devised. But few of them would ' scour,' and the plowman was compelled to keep a paddle hanging to one of the handles, to clean his plow off at each end, or oftener. The average depth of plowing was from two to three inches, and the slovenly habit of ' cutting and covering' (taking several inches more ' land' than the plow could turn) prevailed with most farmers.

"As markers and corn planters at that time were unknown, this was the common modus operandi of planting corn: A man with a pair of horses and a breaking plow 'laid off' the rows, running below the breaking, in order to make his plow 'scour' (the cross rows having previously been made with a single corn plow). The dropper followed along behind with the seed in a basket or bucket, and another man with one horse and a shovel plow, or ' bull tongue,' which, run in the side of the furrow, left a small ridge upon the seed. By this slow process, seven to ten acres could be planted in a day. It being before the day of double corn planters and of cultivators, either a one-horse 'turning plow' or a shovel plow was used to ' tend ' the crop. Twenty to twenty-five acres was all that one hand could take care of, and the rule was to plow it three times. Thirty bushels per acre was considered a fair crop, though hard workers made their land produce forty and even fifty bushels.

" For a crop of oats, as the previous year's corn stalks were usually plowed under, rendering the use of a harrow, to cover the seed and smooth the ground, impracticable, the top of a tree was hitched to and dragged over the ground. Wheat was managed the same way, and, of course, failed as often as it succeeded.

" At the time here spoken of, a field of timothy grass or clover was a rai'e sight. The prairies yielded innumerable tons of wild hay, and any man could have all he wanted for the cutting. There was no mowing machinery - the good old fashioned scythe, with muscle to propel it, sufficed to lay from one to two acres per day, and as reapers and headers were as yet unin vented, the cradle was the only dependence to fell ihe grain. Threshing, except among the largest farmers, was done upon the barn floor, two, three, or four horses walking in a circle over the grain until it was separated from the sti*aw, after which it was cleaned with a fanning machine. If a man had no barn of his own he borrowed one for the purpose.

" Mules had not come into use at that time. Many thought it wicked, and a violation of the laws of nature to raise them. Mule colts, occasionally, might be seen, but they were sold to some buyer for southern use, and taken away generally in the fall after foaling.

"Much of the breaking was done by oxen, nearly every farmer owning one or more yoke of these slow but sure beasts. Raw prairie was always broken, at that day, with teams of three or four yoke, which would turn over two or three acres per day.

" Forty years ago, cooking stoves, save an occasional one in the towns, had not come into use. Everything was cooked by the fireplaces, which every house contained, and were built to receive wood three or four feet in length. Nearly everything was cooked in a skillet or a Dutch oven, both being supplied with a lid with a raised rim, upon which coals were piled. It was hot and laborious work for the women to cook by a fireplace, but the meals thus prepared were not to be excelled.

"Although the red man's camp-fire at the time of which I write, no longer threw its ruddy glare over the trunks of the forest monarch, he having some years previous abandoned this for more successful hunting ground, much wild game still lingered. Deer abounded in the broad prairies between Apple creek and the east of Sugar creek, and I have frequently seen them within a mile of Old Auburn, and have seen wolves within the limits of the town. Wild turkeys still abounded in the woods, in their season, flocks of prairie chickens, vast enough to darken the air as they flew, might be seen any hour in the day. Every winter the sharp shooters of this community, would make up parties of four or five men, and each with its wagon and team, bedding, provisions, cooking utensils, rifles and amunition, would drive to the wilds of Christian county, remain five or six days, generally returning home with six or eight deer. The rifle was almost universally used, and the old hunters looked with supreme contempt upon any man or boy who could content himself with a shot-gun. Even squirrels, prairie chickens, geese and ducks were hunted with the rifle.

kept sheep, every home had its spinning wheel, and every wife and daughter could extract music of a practical nature from this instrument. Looms were convenient too. The men and boys all wore jeans, either yellow, brown or blue, and the mothers, wives and daughters were arrayed in linsey, usually strii^ed or checked. At the date of which I write, calico had begun to be worn, but was laid aside, for woolen, in cold weather. The sturdy pioneers of western or southern origin, looked upon the eastern men who occasionally found their way out here, dressed in broadcloth or cassimere, as Yankee upstarts. Indeed, the New England and New- York emigrants were regarded with suspicion. Some of the first comers were clock peddlers fiom Connecticut, who fleeced the people, and a pjrejudice was engendered that did not entirely die out with that generation. Besides this unfavorable inu'oduciion, many of the eastern settlers came hither, full of conceit about methods of farming, and undertook to give their new neighbors the benefit of their experience, not realizing that the Illinois prairies required quite different treatment from New England hills. I am glad to say that the feeling thus engendered has almost entirely passed away, but it was quite a formidable and disagreeable element in society, forty years ago.

"Apropos of the above, the western people of the early days, entertained a sui^reme contempt for a man who attended to the milking. The women here did all the milking. No matter if there vjere three or four men about the house, and but one hard worked woman, the former couldn't degrade themselves by adopting this Yankee innovation. I have frequently known young men, when contracting to work by the month on farms, to ask if they were expected to milk. If this was required, either negotiations were broken off, or several dollars were added to the price.

"The young people of the present day, attending school in nicely painted and ornamented comfortable structures, furnished with all the modern educational appliances, would gaze with astonishment at the rude and crude accommodations of two score years agone. At that time, there were four schools (taught only in the winter,) within a radius of a few miles of this place. One of these was taught in the Old Cumberland church, a log building, four miles nortlieast; there was one in Auburn, a rude frame house of about fourteen by sixteen feet; a small brick building near A. S. Orr's, and another two miles further up the timber. Both of these were used, when necessary, for religious services on Sunday, as there were no meeting houses on the timber above the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, above mentioned.

"The scholars sat upon bare benches, made usually of slabs, with four legs. Many of the scholars had never seen or heard of such a thing as a desk. Reading, spelling and writing, with geography, grammar and arithmetic, for the 'advanced' scholars, constituted the studies. The rod, and a great deal of it, was an indispensable reliance as an educator.

"Singing classes were sometimes taught, Mr, John Baker, of Lick Creek, being the only teacher within reach. He taught vocal music by the 'patent' or 'buck-wheat' notes, the Old 'Missouri Harmony' being the work generally used, the major part of Avhose tunes were in the minor strain, and as the young folks flocked in for miles around, crowding the houses where they were held, old 'Consolation,' 'Ninety-Fifth,' 'Jefferson' and 'Russia' would Avaken the echoes.

"At that day, very few buggies or carriages were seen. Nearly everybody went to meeting on horseback; the wives frequently riding behind their liege lords. Often a young lady was taken on the horse behind her lover, though each girl had generally a steed of her own. A horse, saddle and bridle was the goal of every young man's or woman's desires, when growing up,

" Springfield was only a limited market. There being no means of transportation from there, there was no demand, save a local one, for grain, pork and other productions, which was soon supplied. I have known corn hauled to Sjjringfield, from this vicinity, fourteen or fifteen miles, and sold for five cents a bushel. Of course, none but a renter sorely needing money, would undertake to haul corn to Springfield at such a price.

"Alton was, at that day, the principal market for the farmers of Central Illinois. It wouldn't do to haul corn so far, at ten or fifteen, or even twenty cents a bushel, so the corn w^as fed to cattle and hogs, mainly to the latter, large droves of which were driven down in the early winter, a number of neighbors combining together. A wagon was driven by one of the men, in which to deposit the swine that might, perchance, 'break down.' The hog drivers walked. These droves were sometimes so extensive as to fill the road for half a mile or more.

pany of wagons, during the Indian summer season of 1841. There were some ten or a dozen wagons, all laden with wheat. Provisions, cooking utensils, bedding and a supply of horse feed were taken, the weather being so tine as to allow the company to spread their couches beneath the wagons. It was customary to take bread and pies ready baked; with sometimes a boiled ham, but coffee was made and meat fried by the fire, improvised on the ground. There was no lack of dry fuel along the road in the woods, and no objection to its being picked np. After the men had supped, the evening, until bedtime, was spent in smoking and telling yarns, the flickering flames throwing a ruddy light over the merry group. Thecampingground was always selected, if possible, in the woods. These trips, going and coming, usually occupied about a week. The teamsters brought back groceries, clothing and other family necessities for themselves, and often loads of goods for the Springfield merchants, receiving so much for each hundred pounds.

" Forty years ago, the people of this vicinity were just beginning to taste the sweets of a postoffice close at home. The new Springfield and St. Louis stage-road, running through Chathaai and Auburn, had recently been established. The old route lay through Sugar Creek timber, some two or three miles east of this. The "Sugar Creek Postoftice" had been kept, until this change, at John L. Drennan's, which was a 'stage stand,' as the place was called where the four stage horses were changed on each trip for fresh ones. By this arrangement. Auburn people were five miles from the postoflSce, and the residents up towards the head of the timber, eight to ten miles.

'At that time, the question of cheap postage and pre-payment had not yet engaged the attention of our wise men. Letter postage was all the way from six to twenty-five cents, dependent upon distance. The family of the writer had twenty-five cents to pay on many a letter from eastern friends, during the early forties. The mailing business was much more complicated then than now, for all letters had to be way billed, and each letter's destination, rates, etc., recorded carefully in a book kept for the purpose, which contained a column for paid, another for unpaid, and another for free letters.

" Forty years ago there was but one steam grist mill in the county, south of Springfield. This stood just about where the Chicago & Alton road crosses the branch, near what is now known as Anderson pond, north of town. The engine and works in the mill had been removed from

Waverly, by Asa and George Eastman. This mill was only run here two or three years, I believe, and the works were transferred to Springfield. The building was occupied for several years afterwards by David Eastman for finishing leather, he having a tanyard on the premises.

"At the time of which I write, there were two watermills in this township, both of which ground corn and wheat, and each had a saw mill connected with it. One of these was owned by Jacob Rauch, the father of the Rauch boys, and stood on the south side of the creek, nearly opposite the present Rauch's mill. The other mill was owned by E. & W. D. Crow, and was located due west of Old Auburn, on a site now owned by John Garber, just northeast of his dwelling, on the west bank of the creek. 'Crow's mill pond' was a favorite resort by crowds of men and boys, on summer Saturday afternoons, for swimming exercises. The swimmers frequently rode their horses into the pond, and the steeds, swimming with their nude riders, drew out great applause from the multitude on the banks.

" The currency of the country, forty years since, was quite a different matter from that of the present day. 'Wild-cat money' from hundreds of banks, scattered over the country, was in circulation. Our own 'State bank paper' was largely used, but there was a discount upon it. Money of the Missouri bank was always reliable, and generally preferred to gold. In silver, the old Spanish coins prevailed, and the 12-|^ and 6^ cent pieces possessed no higher value than the dimes and half dimes. They were distinguished as 'long bits' and 'short bits' - 'long picayunes' and 'short picayunes.' Copper coins were not used, and a picayune was the lowest sum recognized. If an article wasn't worth a picayune, it wasn't worth anything. I well recollect how indignant some of the old residents were when asked to pay postage on newspapers - two, three or four cents. At that time the privilege of franking the letters was about all the compensation the Auburn postmaster received for getting up to ' change the mail ' once or twice in the night, every night in the year, and performing the duties of postmaster; yet it was diflficult to convince some of these worthies that if the postmaster didn't collect all the moneys due the department, he must suffer loss.

" In 1 840, a large amount of land in the country was as yet unentered. Thousands of acres in the broad prairie to the west and east of Sugar creek timber were open to settlers, at 11.25 an acre. Most of the land along Panther creek, however, had been entered by speculators. John Griggs, of Philadelphia, owned immense tracts, and his agent, David B. Ayres, at Jacksonville, sold it to settlers at |3 to $5 per acre. Many of the farms along Panther creek, between Irwin's (then known as Harlan's) grove and the head, were made of the Griggs land.

"The pioneers supposed that the value of limber land w^ould increase indefinitely. Hedges for the prairie had not been thought of, and there was no knowledge of the vast fields of coal underlying this whole expanse of country. Consequently, believing that the demand for wood for fuel, and rails for fences, must constantly increase as the prairies became settled, they held on to their forest acres with an iron grasp. The discovery of coal in this region, and the utilization of the Bois D'Arc tree for hedges on the Western prairies, may certainly be counted among the notable events of the nineteenth century. Could our fathers have been told that farms of whole sections could so easily be fenced, splendid houses built and provided with fuel, without the aid of wood land, they would have thought it incredible.

"Pulmonary consumption, so prevalent now, was almost unknown among the early residents. Living in log houses, generally unplastered, with open fireplaces, they breathed pure air, and having regular sleep, and dressing healthfully, they were affiicted with but few physical ailments, save malarial ones.

"There w^ere but few holidays in the early days. But little notice was taken of the Fourth of July. Frequently the riflemen of the neighborhood would gather together on Christmas and indulge in shooting matches. The grandest day in the year to both men and boys was election day. The State and county elections of that day were held in August. This being before the day of township organization, this election precinct (Sugar Creek precinct), comprised a large scope of country - indeed, if I recollect rightly, some three or four townships. Forty years ago, the voting place for this precinct was John L. Drennan's, (the place now^ occupied by Benjamin F. Drennan.) Afterwards it was transferred to a house just this side of the C. P. Church. Nearly every boy in the precinct, old enough to ride a horse, accompanied the fathers or brother, and all spent the day. Liquor was usually available, and drunken men and fights were often witnessed. Horse racing was a common pastime at elections. Voting was a slow aud tedious process. Qhe clerks recorded the

"At the time to which this sketch refers - only about twenty-two years after the first w'hite man's cabin was erected in 'the San-(/am-ma country,' as the early comers called it, most of the pioneers were yet living here, mainly, people in the prime of life. They were an honest, friendly, unassuming, industrious class of people, generally, who Avere content to make a fair living and keep out of debt. The mania for accumulating illimitable acrps had not yet been developed. No man felt envious of another's prosperity. There was no desire evinced to overreach a neighbor in a trade; to live in a finer house, or to dress better than anyone else. The milk of human kindness permeated society. The people were hospitable to a fault. A person in distress, or needing help in any form, had but to signify it and it was invariably forthcoming.

"The first comers - principally from the hilly regions of Virginia and Kentucky, were enraptured with the beautiful country spread out before them. The boimdless prairies coated with luxuriant grass, affording faithful indications of the marvellous possibilities of crops concealed beneath, and the facility with which they could be developed; the herds of deer and other game that roamed the plains - sights so dear to the hunter's heart - led the pioneers to send back enthusiastic accounts of the country to the friends they had left behind. Their attractive representations brought others, and 'the Sangam-ma country' came to be known as the farmers' paradise.

Early Rascality

"In the winter of 1842 (I think it was), a trunk belonging to a mail agent, of Springfield, named Brown, was cut from the rear part of the stage, while it was crossing the bridge over Panther creek, between Maynard's and Harland's Grove. The coach was making its down trip, in the night, as usual, and that place was doubtless selected for the deed on account of the speed of the team being checked while crossing.

"Crime was so rare a thing in country places, at that day, that the affair created great excitement throughout the country. It was difficult, at first, to obtain a clue to the perpetrator, though the impression prevailed that the mischief had been done by some one living in the neighborhood. The trunk contained clothing some specie, some counterfeit money (uaiTied for detective purposes), a stock of fine cigars for Mr. Brown's own smoking, &c. It was partly through the cigars that the guilty one was detected. John Kennedy, a young man of about eighteen, living with his parents on the Harlan place, was very liberal with a lot of fragrant Havanas at the Cumberland Church, the next Sunday, dividing them around among the irreverent boys who made a practice of going punctually to meeting, and remaining out of doors, to discuss horseflesh during service. The writer had the pleasure of puffing one of them, and the memory thereof is still fragrant - as was the cigar.

''The trunk, after being partly rifled, was concealed in a corn shock in the field, just east of the bridge. Several more little things shortly leaked out, that, combined, directed suspicion to the right quarter. One of them was this: The very afternoon of the robbery, Kennedy was at the postoffice in Auburn, and asked Mr. Wadsworth, the postmaster, what time the stage came down, and being informed, rode oflt towards the north.

" Evidence being deemed sufficient, a warrant was issued and served by Arny R. Robinson, of Springfield, then an officer. Mr. Brown and another man accompanied. Kennedy denied the theft at first, but being confronted by the testimony, soon confessed the deed, produced the money, and led his captors to where the trunk was hidden.

"Kennedy was consigned to jail, and before the day fixed for the trial, contrived, with two fellow prisoners (one confined for horse-stealing, the other for breach of trust), to escape. They fled west, and on Spring creek two of them stole a horse apiece, and made their way to St Louis, A description of two of the fugitives was advertised, but for some unaccountable reason, a description of Kennedy was omitted. A detective saw Kennedy and his companion in a barber's shop, recognized the latter by the description, and took him. Kennedy lost no time in getting out, aboai'd a boat, and down the river. He found means to communicate with his family, his father soon followed, and in a few months afterward, the remainder of the family. They settled at Natchitoches, Louisiana.

"My father, Samuel Hampton, settled in Sangamon county in the fall of 1830, near Mechanicsburg, and removed to the village of Springfield, next year. We lived in the lower rooms of a two-story log house, and Sullivan Conant occupied the upper rooms with his family, having come from Massachusetts in 1831. Father Conant says his wife thought she could scrub her fioor as they did in their native home, and in the attempt almost drowned us out of house and home. Mother Conant used to tell that one of her earliest recollections of Springfield was a little urchin, with a black, curly head, full of mischievous pranks. That curly headed boy and her little black eyed daughter, in their manhood and womanhood, became man and wife, and under the blessing of a kind Providence, have become father and mother of a large family of children, and been blessed with a liberal share of worldly prosperity. Five of our children still live, two ai"e dead. Mother Conant lived and died a christian, many years ago. Father Conant still lives, four score and one years of age, a well preserved man, honored and blessed by eight living children and many grand-children, and by all who know him. One of the earliest things I recollect was, we lived in a log cabin near the old cemeter3^ We slept on one feather bed and covered with another in winter. When we had a drifting snow-storm, we would have an extra job in the morning of shoveling the sno\v out of the house, but the children enjoyed better health then than many who are confined in airtight houses, heated with air-tight stoves. On one occasion, Mr. Erastus Wright gathered all the boys in town and had them clean up the court house yard, and after the job Avas done, took us down to old Father Dickey's and treated us to beer and cakes, and we all felt happy over it. I well remember the immense political gathering of 1840, with its log cabin on wheels, its hard cider barrels, its coonskins and live coons grinning over the dead roosters carried in procession. I well remember the sad day in 1844, when, in attempting to raise an ash pole, it fell, killing Mr. Brodie, and maiming for life the brother of my wife. To show you how we had to work and how we were paid, I will relate a little of my experience. I, with a younger brother, worked on a brickyard for old Mr. Hay, who long ago passed away to his rest. It took both of us to do the woi'k of one boy, and for this we got twenty-five cents a day and boarded ourselves. Many a day have I worked with a chill on, and then lay down until the fever abated, but we had some good company. Judge Milton Hay and his brothers, J. Addison and Theodore, moulded the brick, while we off-bore them , Money was scarce then. We boys hardly ever saw any, except once in a while we would get twenty-live cents to go to a show. They would make us take orders on the stores. I recollect one show that came, and I had to have a decent cap to go with, for in those days we boys wore seal skins, not the seal of to-day, but which looked more like hog skin with the hair cut short. Well, I went up to the store before breakfast and picked out a cap for one dollar; went back for my ordei*, and when I returned the proprietor asked one dollar and twenty cents as soon as he saw the order. I told him he had offered it to me for a dollar. He said, before breakfast it looked like rain, and that they would have a dull day, but it had cleared off, and they could not sell so cheap. So after that I prayed for dull days for that store."

Hunting Experience Of R. W. Diller

"In regard to my hunting experience, I would say, a very few days after my arrival, November, 1844, my brother-in-law, Mr. R. F. Ruth, took me in his buggy just south of where the Junction coal shaft now is, to try my hand in shooting prairie chickens. The birds were feeding in a corn field, and as it was near sundown, they commenced their flight for roosting in the prairie. You have heard of 'buck ager;' well, I had the 'chicken ager,' and for the life of me 1 could not get a shot, or did not shoot at all. Mr. Ruth until to-day often amuses the friends by describing ray effort - pointing here, then there, mimicing my performances. There were thousands of them flying within shot, but they were bigger game than I was used to, so I was scared; but I got bravely over that, as my friends can testify. He killed several of them as they lit on the trees, while I found a flock of quail, and peppered them, as I Avas used to in the East. He laughed at me for wasting ammunition on such small fry, for 'we net them,' he said; and I afterward found such was the case, and had much sport in doing so, in company with Robert Irwin, Caleb Burchall, John C. Spring, Bella Webster, S. B. 0})dyck, George L. Huntington, Captain Diller, Ilenry Coon, and others, and many funny incidents could be related happening on our hunts.

"The shotgun was little used in those days; the long- barreled Kentucky rifle was the old settler's trusted weapon, with which many were very expert. IJncle Andy Elliott and William Lockridge, I was told, could tumble a deer at full speed of a horse and deer, nearly every time. I saw Uncle Andy do it once, the ball entering the head just below the horns. I asked him if he aimed for that. 'Yes, always,' was his answer; still, I thought it rather accidental. The useful bird dog was little used then, Mr. H. N. Ridgely and J. C. Spring being the only possessors, in 1844-4.5, of one each. Mr. R. used to tell very amusing stories of the astonishment the farmers would express when he would drive up and put his dog in the field, and ste him knock chickens right and left on the wing, when they had not observed any birds before. The farmers shot them only in the winter, from trees and fences. The winter of 1844- 45, I saw prairie chickens shot from the trees where the Governor's house now stands. As late as 1850, a friend of mine was fined for shooting wild pigeons from trees where Dr. Vincent's house now stands. In 1846, Mr. John Ives got a pointer dog, and in 1847, I brought from the East my black setter, 'Jack,' with which I killed hundreds of chickens. I seldom went further than the machine shop and Butler's farm to get all we wanted for ourselves and neighbors. On one occasion, as I was riding on horseback, with my gun and dog, hunting (where General John Cook's house, on South Fourth street, stands), in company with two young farmers, 'Old Jack' found a covey of chickens. I told them if they would hold the horse, I would give them a mess of birds to take home. They looked around to see them. I walked up to where the dog was standing, and as the birds got up, I killed eight or nine before they all got away. You ought to have seen the men's eyes buck out. I gave them two apiece. After thanking me, one said: 'By Jingo, Tom, I mean to have a dog and scattering gun right away.'

"The first deer hunt I was on, was on the 4th day of July, 1846, when a large party gathered early in the morning at Uncle Andy Elliott's, now First street and North Grand Avenue. The old house and gate posts were decorated with antlers of deer, skins of wolves, foxes, coon and other varmint - a regular hunter's home - while the hounds lay lazily around, waiting patiently for the old hunter to mount his horse, and when he tooted his horn they bounded and howled like wild. The party consisted of Colonel James Barrett, R. F. Ruth, Robert Allen, Charlie Chatterton, P. C. Johnson old man Peak (the baker), Harrison Hammond, Wm. H. Herndon, Wes. and Harrison Elliott, and others whose names I have forgotten. The rendezvous was near old Sangamon Town, where a wagon with cooking utensils and Mr. Elliott Herndon, the orator of the day, had preceded us. We did not carry meat in those days, as we were sure of getting enough on the hunt. We started through the brush due northwest, and the hazel come up to Elliott's house. We had gone about one-half hour when one of the dogs 'give tongue,' and then the whole pack burst forth in one grand harmony, making the welkin ring, enthusing men and horses alike. They put us green ones on stands, and I for one wished most heartily the deer would not come by me, for should I miss it (and the way I felt I knew I would), Barrett and Elliott would have worn my hat off. But luck would have it, that old fox, Mr. Peak - who could beat any horse in the timber and knew every run-way - got the first crack at it, wounding and making the deer take water a few miles west of the ' cut-off,' and he was soon our meat. He was carried to camp and dressed, and by twelve o'clock we were enjoying the feast. It was a wonderful day's sport for me - a greenhorn. Wm. Herndon used to be called 'Injin Bill' and ' Turkey Bill,' for the reason, if he ever got after a deer or turkey he was always sure to capture it, if it took him two days. He was so called in order to distinguish him from another Wra. Herndon, a brick mason. Deer and turkey were quite plenty in any of the timber within three miles of town, and with hounds, hunters could have a chase any day. But the big hunts of two weeks - when they would kill twenty to tifty deer - were made on Flat Branch, Bear Creek and away out on the Okaw, in which Mr. O. Lewis, Joshua Amos, X. Divelbiss and others, were prominent actors.

"I will relate one more little incident and quit, for when you get an old hunter started, he will think of enough to fill a whole volume, if you would let him - interesting enough to him, but may be to no one else. In the winter of 1849, Messrs. Peak and Herndon proposed a hunt on Sugar creek, starting in at what is now the Model Farm. Harry Myers, I. G. Ives, Captain I. R. Diller, and myself were to meet them at Newcomer's Mill. We started early on foot, and when we got to the bridge heard the dogs running through Scattering Point, but the deerdogs and men crossed far above, and the dogs took the deer up to Hickory Grove, in Christian county. Our party ate our luncli, drank up our 'snake bite cure,' shot the bottles to pieces, and started home on the east side of the creek, hoping to find a flock of turkeys. As we scattered through the brush, it was not very long when I heard my brother - who had never seen a wild deer before - hallooing for dear life. He had started two deer with immense horns. We all run for a clearing to get a shot. I happened to strike a clear place, and saw the two deer bounding along about forty yards from rae. I had a small double-barreled shotgun. I let go on the leader, and dropped him in his track, then let the other have it, and down he came. My! but my heart burned with pride as I run and cut their throats. I thought my brother would go wild. He said they looked as big as elephants, and was so frightened he forgot he had a gun. Two of us packed them on poles about two miles to Mother Short's, where we got a team to bring us to town. When the old lady saw the little gun, and was informed it done the work, she said: 'Young man, somebody will have to set up with you to-night, sure!' So they did; those two deer cost me a heap that night, I tell you."

By .Tames .J. Megredy

" My father, Enoch Megredy, with his family, left Port Deposit, Cecil county, Maryland, April 15th, 1837, and after a very interesting trip by land, water and mud, landed in Cass county, Illinois, near Virginia, at the home of his cousin, Archibald Job, June 16th, 1837. In the spring of this year the building of the old Stale House was commenced. The continuous rainy weather, and the imperfect arrangements for quarrying the stone had brought the work to a close for the time being. Mr. Job was one of the State House Commissioners, and my father having been engaged in quarrying granite at Port Deposit, was placed at once in charge of the State House quarries, near Crow's Mill, and moved his family, consisting of twelve persons, to a cabin on the land now owned and occupied by Mr Hexter, six miles south of Springfield. The cabin was about fourteen feet square, with a clapboard addition eight by twelve. Cranes were erected for raising the rock from the quarry and loading the wagons. Of this year's work the basement of the old State House was built. He then purchased the Z. Peter's farm, on the south side of Lick Creek, six miles south of Springfield, February 2, 1838, and where part of the family still reside. My father was a local preacher of the M. E. Church, his license dating from 1828; he was ordained a deacon in 183.5, by Bishop Emory, at Philadelphia, and ordained an elder in 1840, by Bishop Waugh, at Springfield, Illinois; he died in the fifty-seventh year of his age. In 1839, Old Harmony Church (near the present Woodside) was built of timber, hewed, framed and weather-boarded with nicely shaved clapboards; it had seven windows, of eight by Leu glass, twelve panes of glass in each window; the pulpit was made of walnut, substantial and plain. This appointment was styled by Rev. James Leaton, the Athens of the circuit. * * * In those days, to minister to the wants or comfort of new-comers was a peculiar trait in western character. On the first day after moving into the cabin, an old gentleman, a genuine type of the pioneer class, called, saying that he heard that we had just come in and were strangers, and he had come over to see if we did not want a cow for the summer, as he had more than he needed, and if we would send over we should be welcome to one. We thanked the old gentleman and accepted the cow. He said she was the best cow he had, and ' Chance ' proved equal to any cow we have had since. It was a fixed fact, that when one or more of the community would be sick with chills or jaundice, or something else, his neighbors would meet and take care of his harvest, or get up wood, or repair his cabin, or plant his corn, or whatever was necessary to be done for the comfort of his family or himself. In this, those grand old men who are now with us, and those who have passed away, were prompted by the noble, self-sacrificing women, who endured without mourning the hardships of pioneer life, and encouraged those toil-worn men with the prospect of a happy future for their children. When we take an imaginary inside view of one of the cabins and its fixtures, and remember that it was sleeping room, dining room, parlor and kitchen, and the cooking utensils a Dutch oven and a skillet; the never-failing pile of bed quilts on a chair in one corner; the loom in one end of the porch, with a piece of blue jeans partly woven; the lots of dresses hanging up against the wall; the snow white pillows on the bed, and the floor so white; such an air of comfort and satisfaction, in spite of all the inconvenience, we wonder, mixed with much fear, if any of their fair daughters could duplicate the cabin comfort. There was some courting then among the young folks, but being of a very modest and retiring disposition ourself, w^e were ever kept at a distance by the favored ones. We think the facilities for courting were circumscribed - top buggies and long hedged-in-lanes and sentimental, sombre evenings for airings and health exercise, were unknown. Girls rode to church or town in the big wagon with their parents generally, but those that could afford a fine saddle and fine blood horse, were as proud of the display as those of the present day are of a gold watch, half hidden in the net' work of a side pocket. The only good place for courting was the singing school, with a Missouri Harmony under your arm as a passport, you could ride up to the fence and tie your horse and call at the door with some assurance and ask the young lady to accompany you, which was generally followed by the question : ' Will your horse carry double'?' Which was answered in the affirmative, of course, which we are sure was not always strictly true. Unless the young lady would hold on mightily, which they always did, you never heard of one being thrown off, and would get to the log school house safe enough, and back again all right, if some fellow didn't cut you out and the girl give you the sack. This made a fearful experience, and sometimes a fight, but notwithstanding the absence of a private room, top buggy and long, quiet, sombre lanes and all modern appliances, there was scarcely a bachelor to be found in the country - William Yigal, Esq., was the only exception we think of just now. The boys and girls got married, and remained married. We had no divorces, and considered it far better to fight it out on the old plan than be disgraced by a divorce, and we recommend the old plan to our friends who enjoy the benefits of refinement and social culture, and the teaching of the polite literature of the present day."

By E. H. Beach

"When I landed in Springfield, in the fall of 1835, the centre of our present square was graced with a commodious brick court house of very fair dimensions. The court houses were almost invariably put in the center of the public squares, and every town that was then laid oiit would not be considered complete if it had not a public square. This grew out of what then was supposed to be a fact - that every town in the State, great or small, was supposed to be a candidate in the near future for the county seat. After Springfield had acquired the distinction sought, viz, the county seat, it aspired still higher, and put out its feelers for the State Capitol, which we all know she succeeded in getting. The lower story of our court house was devoted to the dispensation of justice, while the upper one was let out for oftices. Our present State Journal was at that time printed there. The Bar was not as numerous then as it is at present, but what it lacked in number, it made up in quality. Among the shining lights of that day were such men as Lincoln, Baker, Douglas, Forquer, and others, and last, but not least, Logan. I had been in Sangamon coixnty but a short time, when a brother-in-law from the city of New York came to visit me. The Rev, J. G. Bergen, wliom we all know as a genial, pleasant gentleman, was showing us round the then small village, 'doing up the sights.' Among other places, we sauntered into the court house. The court was in session, and a case was then in progress. Judge Logan was on the bench, and Mr. Douglas (the 'Little Giant,' as he was afterwards called) on the floor. To us, just from the city of New York, with the sleek lawyers and the prim and dignitied judges, and audiences to correspond, there was a contrast so great, that it was almost impossible to repress a burst of laughter. Upon the bench was seated the judge, with his chair tilted back and his heel as high as his head, and in his mouth a veritable corn cob pipe; his hair standing nine ways for Sunday, while his clothing was more like that worn by a woodchopper than anybody else. There was a railing that divided the audience; outside of which smoking and spitting and chewing of tobacco seemed to be the principal employment. I remarked to Mr. Bergen, who sat beside me: 'That is a strange scene, and not like the courts we have been in the habit of seeing, and, as for the judge, he did not seem to have much knowledge or be of much force.' 'Ah, my dear sir,' replied Mr. Bergen, with that peculiar smile and comical cast of countenance that all who knew him, will instantly recollect, 'He is a singed cat,' and we passed out into the open air. 'A singed cat,' said I to myself, 'I wonder what that can mean.' The expression, coupled with the comical look Mr. Bergen gave as he said it, led me to think that there was more in it than met the ears. After walking a few steps, I said: 'Mr. Bergen, what did you mean by saying that that judge on the bench, with that old overcoat not fit hardly for anyone to wear, was "a singed cat?"' His reply, with another of those comical looks, his brow drawn down, and his chin nearly on his breast, was: 'I mean he is better than he looks.' In a short time I became fully convineed that it was not clothes that makes the man, but brains. Judge Logan, for many years in the Springfield. Bar, was a giant among giants in the legal profession."

By John S. Condell, Sr

"In the summer of 1838, being then fifteen years old, I left the paternal home, in Philadelphia, and in company with my oldest brother (Thomas Condell), started for Illinois, which was then called ' The Far West.' As it was before the days of railroads, we traveled all the way over the mountains to Pittsburg, and thence to Cincinnati, in the old fashioned stage coaches. The cholera was then prevailing all through the West. When passing through Columbus, Ohio, and other towns we saw yellow flags suspended from dwellings, denoting the presence of that dreadful scourge.

" At Cincinnati we embarked on a steamboat for St. Louis. Below Louisville there were but few towns or improvements on the river. I can never forget, neither can I describe, how strangely I was impressed by the wildness and grandeur of the scenery on the river, before it had been molested by the touch of man. The primeval forests crowded and covered the banks, and the surface of the stream was the home of wild fowl of every description. A peculiar stillness brooded over the scene, broken only by the splashing of the steamer's wheel and the jolly song of the firemen. Seldom \^ as there any occasion for our boat to stop, except to 'wood up.' Then we would take a ramble through the wild woods, gathering nuts, grapes, plums, paw-paws and flowers.

"After reaching St. Louis, we again took stage to Carrollton, Greene county, where we began our mercantile career in Illinois. There I became acquainted with Colonel E. D. Baker, (who was killed at Ball's Blufl^, during the late war). He was then a resident of that place. There I heard some of his first efforts in eloquence, both at the bar and in the Christian church, of which I believe he was then a member. He also manifested a military spirit at that early day, being captain of a company of militia, which he was fond of training and parading. His brother. Dr. Alfred C. Baker, also residing there, was a man having as high sense of honor and as much of the milk of human kindness in his nature as any man I ever met. There I first saw Stephen A Douglas, when he was quite a young man, as he traveled around the circuit practicing law. His dress and habits corresponding to the surroundings of the pioneer times. I olten saw him sitting upon the ground in the court house square eating watermelons with the ' boys' and entertaining them with his versatile conversation. There I first saw and found an early friend in Dr. John Hardtner and his family, who have since become residents of this city. There I first met my present partner in business, Mr. C. M. Smith; at that early day we 'were boys together,' and little did, or could Ave then anticipate, that after the lapse of almost half a century we would be associated together

"In the fall of 1840, my brother Thomas and myself left Carrollton in a buggy, with a view of looking for a better location for business. We started north, visiting Jacksonville, Springfield, Decatur and Bloomington. Finally, we decided to make Springfield our permanent home, and try to do business on the cash principle, under the firm name of Condell, Jones & Co. We moved to Springfield in August, 1841. We had difticulty in finding a house to do business in, but finally rented one of the stores in 'Hoffman's row,' North Fifth street, and soon after we purchased of Mr. Blankinship the building still standing on the northwest corner of the north side of the square, and continued doing business in it twenty-one years. It was the first brick building on the north side; all the rest were mostly one-story frame structures, and known in those days as 'Chicken row.' It then required six or more weeks to get goods transported from the East. They had to be wagoned over the mountains to Pittsburg; thence by steamboats to St. Louis and Beardstown, and from thence to this city by transient teams. As but little manufacturing was then in existence in the United States, we were dependent upon foreign markets for most of our goods; hence, nearly all the dry goods we first sold here were of English manufacture. Muslins and calicoes, which we are now selling at six and eight cents per yard, were then sold at 25 to 37^ cents per yard. Most of the woolen goods then used here were spun and woven by the women of Sangamon and adjoining counties. Jeans, flannels, linseys, socks, mittens, rag carpets, tow linen, men's straw hats, etc., were brought to the stores in abundance, and exchanged for groceries and other goods.

"Peter Cartwright, the old pioneer preacher, who was a life-long customer of ours, never wanted anything out of a store but a black silk cravat and a bandana silk pocket handkerchief; all the rest of his wardrobe was the product of the labor and skill of the pioneer women of Sangamon county.

"The ladies' bonnets first brought out were somewhat similar in size and shape to an inverted coal scuttle, and were sold at six to ten dollars each. Parasols were a novelty, and not much needed in the days of large sun-bonnets. However, to suit the times, the parasols we first brought out were mostly of cotton material, on rattan and whalebone frames. We sold them to the mothers of some who are now the wealthy and fashionable of Sangamon county, and at that time they seemed to think they could hardly afford the luxury of a cotton parasol. In those days money was indeed scarce; what little there was, mostly found its way to the land office, to pay for more land. Business was mostly done on a credit of twelve months; settlements made once a year, either at Christmas or 'hog killing time '

"Soon after commencing business in Springfield, we established a branch store in Decatur, managed by a younger brother (Wm. J. Condell), who is still living there. As there was very little money in circulaticn, and no outlet, whatever, for produce, as a matter of necessity as well as to accommodate the farmers of Macon county, we exchanged goods with them for their fall wheat, at twenty-five cents per bushel, had it wagoned to Springfield at five cents per bushel, and sold it to J. L. Lamb at thirty cents per bushel, and were glad in that way to get out even on our speculation in wheat. Mr. Lamb was then proprietor of the old City Mill, on South Seventh street, on the Town Branch as it then was, but both the mill and branch have long since disappeared. In connection with this I would ask the farmers in this and other sections of the State to make a note of this wheat transaction, occurring in the centre of the most fertile portion of Illinois, and learn therefrom how much they are indebted to railroads for present prices of produce and the general prosperity. While I do not own a dollar of railroad stock or hold a pass over any road, I am free to say that we owe an immense debt of gratitude to the men who projected and built our railroads, as well as the larger class who are engaged day and night operating them. Let us remember that as they have been in the past, they will ever remain, our greatest benefactors.

"While waiting for first stock of goods to arrive, I went to the first camp-meeting I ever attended, then being held on the 'Old Salem camp ground,' six miles west of this city. The fii-st day I went there I found I was a stranger among strangers, and as night came on, having made no acquaintance, and being somewhat timid and backward, I got no supper and had no place to sleep. After the night services closed, I thought I would make my bed on the straw about the preaching stand ; but while sauntering around I found an old empty log school house, which formed a part of the inclosure, and into it I went to pass the night alone. On one of the puncheon benches I found a soft hat, and lying down upon the bench I placed the hat under my head for a pillow and went to sleep with the intention of rising before any one else would be stirring around, and see where I had made my resting place; but being tired, I slept so soundly, that when I awoke the sun was two hours high, and I discovered a boy sitting upon the doorstep patiently waiting for his hat, which was under my head.

"Toatdayl formed my first acquaintance with some of the early settlers of Sangamon county - the Megredys, Shepherds, Swingleys, Lyons, Hickmans, Tomlins, Lightfoots and others in the country ; and from the city. Dr. McNeil, Her. W. T. Bennett, Geo. R. Weber, Enos M. Henkle, Edmund Roberts, Noah and Charles W. Matheny, Arny Robinson, Wm. Dickey, Thomas Lee, Sr., and Jas. F. Reed, among whom I was cordially received and entertained.

"There was a young lady from Williamsport, State of Maryland, at that meeting, with the family of Judge Swingley, to whom three years after I was married, although at that time I had not the remotest idea of what the future had in store for me. I had no thought of matrimony then, and was only interested in the progress of the meeting. In those days there was more weeping and rejoicing at camp meeting than we see now. I wept with those who wept, and rejoiced with those who rejoiced, and wished the meeting would last all summer.

"The Spring and summer of 1844 will be remembered by many, as one of the most gloomy and disastrous seasons that Sangamon county ever passed through. It rained almost incessantly all through the spring, until some time in June. The whole country was flooded with water. What little corn had been planted was mostly drowned out, and vegetation wore a sickly hue. It was a year of shoi't crops, long faces and general depression. Dullness prevailed, and business men had more leisure than they knew what to do with. However, I turned it to good account, improving the leisure and enlivening the dullness by a courtship, resulting in securing a partner for life.

"In the face of all the discouraging prospects, all the shaking of heads and forebodings of evil, I was married on the 27th day of June, 1844, to Miss Bell Rice, at the residence of her brother-in-law, Judge Samuel K. Swingley, six miles south of Springfield. In going to and returning from the wedding, we found all the prairie from town to Lick creek timber, covered a sheet of water, and much of the way it was hub deep. That event proved to be the wisest proceeding of my life, and I close these

John H. Harrison, Son Of Reuben Harrison

" I was born in the county of Rockingham, State of Virginia, April 0, 1815. My father moved to Kentucky in 1818, living there four years, and then moved to Sangamon county Illinois, settling on the farm on which I have ever since lived, on the 4th of November, 1822. Everybody was poor, as is the case in every new country, but we enjoyed life as much then as now. We had time to visit our friends, work our little farms, hunt game, which was plenty, and to go to meeting on a week day. We did not use buggies and carriages then. All traveling was done on horseback. It was not uncommon for a man and his wife and three children to get on one horse and ride three or four miles to visit a neighbor. The first school I attended was taught in a house built of round logs and without any windows. All the light we had came down the chimney. The next spring they cut out a log for a window and made a writing pesk of a slit slab, which they placed under it. The first lot of hogs we raised, father sold in Beardstown, for $1.25 per hundred. But several hogs paid for four acres each of land, on which I now live. About the 10th of March, 1S26, father and W. B. Renshaw started from the mouth of Richland creek, for New Orleans, with the second flat boat load of corn ever floated down the Sangamon - Abraham Sinnards took the first one. There are few of the privations now felt in settling a new country, which we felt in settling this. I can remember when we had to raise and prepare everything we had to eat, make everything we had to wear; and every kind of vessel we had to use. The first saw mill was built on Richland creek, below the mouth of Prairie creek, by Reuben Fielding and Robert Harrison, in 1825. William and T. Kirkpatrick built a horse mill in 1822, half a mile southeast of Salisbury. That was the only place we could get flour and meal. It took two-thirds of a bushel of wheat or five or six bushels of corn to pay the postage on a letter."

"I was born near Shepherdstown, Jefferson county, Virginia, on the 30th of November, 1805. In 18 84 emigrated to the west, and, in company with my brother. Van S. Bennett, reached Springfield on the 9lh day of Decem ber, and registered at Captain Whorton Ransdeli's Hotel, an old gentleman full of life and gay spirits, and, as I thought, the most attentive and accommodating landlord I had met in my travels.

I "svas not favorably impressed with the appearance of Springfield at that time, and did not think of remaining there veiy long, but I was induced to commence business, and received a reasonable share of patronage frcm the citizens. As I became acquainted .with the people, I found them sociable and kind. Everybody seemed to be in good spirits and prospering. I became attached to the people and the place, and made it my home till the year 1850, when I entered the itinerant ministry.

The first Sabbath I spent in Springfield I attended the Metht dist church, and was most agreeably disappointed in the appearance of the congregation, and in the eloquent sermon by Rev Joseph Edrrronson, of precious memory. There was a tioirrishing Sabbath school, under the superintendence, of a very good brother, and if I am not mistaken, James H., now Judge Matheny, when but a boy, Avas reported as having committed to memory the largest number of verses in the New Testament of any of the scholars belonging to the school. The memory of the warm friends with whom I first formed an acquaintance, I still cherish with feelings of pleasure and sadness - Dr. J. M. Early, Charles H. Matheny, Esq., Nicholas Garland, Edward Phillips, Edmond Roberts, Asbury and Cyrus Sanders and others. These have all passed into the silent city of the dead. I am still here, in the seventy-seventh year of my age, and since the death of my cousin, William A. Bennett, whom I loved as a brother, I begin to feel lonely.

In 1835,1 was introduced byEev.Mr. Edmondson to Miss Rebecca J. Roberts, who was then visiting Springfield, whom I afterwards courted and married. 'J he most of our courtship, however, took place on paper, for soon after our acquaintance I learned of the death of my brother-inlaw, George W. Shutt, in Shepardstown, and returned to see my widowed sister. I returned to Springfield in the spi-ing of 1836, and was married to Miss Roberts the folloAvirg June, in the town of Ottawa, Illinois. The fruit of our marriage has been two sons and five daughters. We have buried one son and three daughters. The remaining two daughter's and son reside in and near Mechanicsbui-g. My wife and self, and youngest daughter-, a widow, live together."

"lam not an early settler, according to the ruling of the association of that name in the county, as my days on the earth are not of sufiicient number to entitle me to that honor. However, am a descendant of one. Was born on Avhat is now South Sixth street, Springfield, 111., about tAvo score years ago. And, while Ave know nothing of our ancestry of which we feel ashamed, modesty forbids the mention of Avhat we do know. Suffice it to say that, whatever claims Me may haAe to the succession of European or other thrones, or rights to great wealthy estates, by rules of descent, are dismissed. Have lived here long enough to witness many importarrt changes. Remember when I knew the face and name of every man, Avoman, boy and girl in Springfield; also most of the 'country Jakes' who did their trading there. The free school system has grown up in my time, and if there is a man or Avoman in the county, thirty years of age, or irnder, who cannot read and write, some one is greatly at fault, and should be held criminally responsible, except iir case of idiocy or physical disability. Even mutes are not excusable. My first school teacher was old Mr. Parks, but do not remember him so distinctly as good Mrs. Dean, who, shame to say it, I kicked on the nose with the first boot heel I CA'er wore, while she was plying her sli]iper where, rro doubt, it was needed. Recollect quite well when the first railroad locomotive came into Springfield. * * * I was a little fellow, but do not forget when the troops left for ihe Mexican war, nor when Tom Hessey, an acquaintance of my folks, returned, having been wounded by a grape shot, Avhich he brought home with him. I thought Tom was a hero arrd a martyr. Wondered if we should ever have another war that would afford me an opportunity to wear the dazzling blue with brass buttons. True, that grape shot and Tom Hessey's game leg Avould come up sometiirres, and dami^en my ardor. It came. I was there. Saw enough. Came home without glory, because I had the good fortune to bring my l)ody intact. The public demand an arm, a leg, a hand; or there is no rcAvard, no compliment, no cheer. But so it has always been, perhaps always will be. The sacrifice, not the service, is Avhat we applaud. One of the really big things in the way of advancement was the scouring plows made by old John TJhler, on the corner east of where the town clock is now I located. I never used a Avooden mould-board plow, but in my thirty years practical experience, have nsed many different kinds. Plows of recent date have many advantages, but I have never seen a plow that would do the work as well as the old Uhler used to do it.

" The improvements in the way of farm implements is a matter of astonishment; but of all the improvements, nothing is more noticeable or important to an agricultural county like ours than that of farm animals. While all kinds have been greatly improved, the most marked improvement is among cattle, hogs and sheep. Horses have been by no means neglected, but there were some good horses about here more than thirty years ago. Do I forget Uncle Peter Van Bergen's 2:40 steppers? Not much. You never saw me sitting in Uncle Peter's sleigh, behind the first string team ever driven in Springfield to a cutter? Bells, little and big! I would have guessed more than a million in number! Talk about the wind. Our backs to it, a half second the start, and ' stand from under!' I was a very common boy, but a very enthusiastic one about that time on the trotting question. My father laughs now about a question, or rather a series of them, that amused him, but I am still of the same opinion. Said I, ' Father, if our horse was the biggest horse in the world, and was the best looking horse in the world, and could outrun any other horse, and could trot faster than any other horse; would he be the greatest horse in the world - if we had one?'

"In poultry also, the improvement is very marked. * * * But what does it all amount to? Is the condition of the human family really bettered by it? Do not all these improvements bring with them additional demands that must be complied with? Do they not excite a spirit of unrest, jealousy and selfishness? For all time man has been about the same. The physical, social and moral culture of man brings correspondingly increased necessities and responsibilities. After all, much of the labor-saving machinery in use, and many of the so-called conveniences are over-estimated. We pay for all our luxuries, sometimes dearly."

Pioneer Women

At the annual meeting of the Pioneers' Society, held in 1879, R. W. Diller read a number of letters received from pioneer women of the county. The following were among the number :

Mrs. James Parkinson And Mrs. Sarah King

" Friend Diller - In response to your request that you would like to hear from the women portion of the old settlers of Sangamon county, we will give you some of our experience. Our father moved from Kentucky to St. Clair county, Illinois, in the year 1816 or 1817 - lived there till the fall of 1819; then moved to what was then called the Sangamo country, and settled on Spring creek, ten miles west of where Springfield was afterwards located. Our father built a camp, which we lived in until winter, - and considerable snow and very cold, - then built a cabin; had to thaw the snow and ice off the boards to lay the roof; then put poles on to hold the boards down. That done, they made puncheons and laid part of the floor, and put up bedsteads of some kind; then had to make beds under the bedsteads for us children to sleep on, there being nine children and three grown persons. The cabin where there was no floor, we used for hearth and fire-place, leaving a hole in the roof for the smoke to go out at. This way we lived the first winter. After that we done a little better ; built a pen at one end of the house for the sheep, to keep the wolves from killing them, and the wolves serenaded us nearly every night. The principal part of the provender for our stock was elm and lin brush. Our men would cut down trees for the stock to eat the branches and bark off. Our breadstuffs had to be brought from near St. Louis, about one hundred miles. It was principally corn bread made up with cold water and baked in a skillet or oven - was commonly called corn-dodger. Our meat was in abundance, we had pork, venison, turkey and prairie chicken and wild honey for all that was out. Had coffee about once a week, generally of a Sunday morning, the balance of the time, milk and Avater mixed. This was for the first season, after that we had enough milk without mixing it with water. As for our clothes, we had to raise, pick, spin and weave cotton to make clothes for winter and summer; we also made linsey. The first indigo we had, we raised; used that,shumach berries, white walnut bark and other barks for coloring.

" Now for the cotton picking. Mother would every night fill a pint cup full of cotton in the seed for each one of us, and lay it doAvn before the fire and tell us when we picked it we could go to bed, and we had it to do. Then we pitched in and warmed our cotton, and the warmer we made it, the better it picked, so we would take a good sAveat. The next day that had to be carded and spun, so we would soap the cotton some card and some spin, and when we would get enough spun and colored to make a dress apiece, we would put it in the loom and weave it. It did not take tit'teen or twenty yards to make a dress, nor thirty or forty days to make one, althought they were made by hand. Now, to give you a more perfect idea of the cloth and fashion of our dresses at that time, we will here show you a sample of one of our mother's dresses, which she wore about fifty-live years ago - not only mother, but some of the rest of us young ladies. This is tbe only one we have saved, it being our mother's. We have often thought and talked of exhibiting this dress before to old settlers' meetings, but have failed to do it, but when our friend Diller gave us such a pressing invitation to take a part in contributing to the entertainment, we could resist no longer, so we thought we would give a little sketch of our doings for the first two or three years in this county. Now for our calico dresses. We cannot show you a sample, as we have not saved one for posterity, but it would be something similar to the cotton, one in number of years and make. Before we could get one we had to make jeans and swap for calico, or else dig ginseng and smat. We had a neighbor woman who had a small baby, and had no cradle, and she conceived the idea of substituting her apron for a cradle; tie the baby in it, then the apron around her neck, and spun on the big wheel in order to make clothing for her family. As for schooling, that was not very much. Our first school we went to after we came here was four miles, taught by a man named Andrew. Four or five of us went by turns. The youngest was nine years old. Went on foot, and the road was a path through the high grass and woods, and the stars were often shining when we got home, and there were wolves and panthers plenty. They were frequently seen, and you can well imagine how we felt when the stars began to shine. The oldest ones would form a front and rear guaid, and put the smallest in the middle, and hurry them along, all scared nearly to death. Our school house was a log cabin; the windows were big cracks, with paper pasted over and greased to give light. Our seats were split logs, with legs put in to sit on. Our church was built of logs, and about four miles from us. It was a Methodist church, and when we had company we went on foot, one behind the other in the path. Mrs. James Parkinson,

Mrs. Charlotte Jacobs

My maiden name was Charlotte Webb, daughter of Adin and Mary Webb. I was married to Daniel Jacobs in the year of our Lord 1818. We lived in Kentucky until the fall of 1825. We then started to Illinois, and on the 7th of November arrived at Lick creek, and settled on the farm that we have ever since occupied. When we moved to Illinois our neighbors were scarce. Mr. Lindley, Mr. Darneille, Myers Campbell and my husband, with their families, moved into a little log cabin, fifteen by sixteen, with a puncheon floor and a clapboard door. The chimney had no back, or jams, or hearth. How friendly the people were in those days. They would go miles to see one another, and to take and return the hearty shake of the hand. As I look back on those days, I think of them as some of my happiest days. You must know that it took stout, hearty and resolute woman to settle a wilderness country like this was, and to buffet with the storms of life, but God's hand was over all, and he brought us safely through. I raised a large family, nine daughters and two sons, to be grown and married. They are all living and doing well. My children, grandchildren and great grand-children living, are one hundred and fourteen. If all were living there would be one hundred and thirty-six. 1 am now in my eighty-third year, and can walk without fatigue, to ray daughter's, Mrs. Frank Darneille, about two miles, and I feel thankful for my good health. We brought only one chair with us, so my brother made one for himself and my husband, with a gimlet and a draw-knife as the only tools. I have the gimlet yet. I brought with me three cows, and ray husband bought five hounds. The first hogs we had I bought twelve shoats, and paid for thera with linsey and jeans, of my own make. We had to raise flax and cotton to make our clothing. I made everything that we wore. I even made my towels and table cloths, sheets and everything in the clothing line. I have some of my towels and table cloths yet, and one sheet of my last flax spinning. We had a pretty hard time for a while, but we worried through. Our nearest trading place was St. Louis, and we had not much money to buy with. We had to go to the American bottom to get our bread stuff, and we paid one dollar per bushel for corn, until we raised some. Our meat was principally wild meat, such as deers, turkeys and prairie chickens. We put up with anything. What we could not make we did without. I made a churn by taking a keg and knocking one end out; made a dasher to I fit, and presume made just as sweet butter then as our women do now. This is only a short sketch of my early life, and perhaps some of the young people will doubt its trutn. IJut if you don't believe it, I can refer you to any of my old neighbors. Yours respectfully,

Elizabeth Harbour, Daughter Of Simon Lindley

"I was born September 4, 1803, in Christian county, Kentucky. I came to Illinois Territory in 1807, and wintered on Wood river, in what is now known as Madison county. I then moved to Shoal creek, which is now Bond county. Remained there until the beginning of the war of 1812, when my father, with about forty other families, went into the fort called Hill's Station, where we remained until peace was declared. Hill's Station was near where Greenville, Bond county, now is. A guard, consisting of the militia and the rangers, was kept to guard the fort, on account of the numerous Indians. The Indians attacked the fort four different times. The fourth time the Indians nearly succeeded in their attempt, most of the militia being out on a skirmish. Thirteen men went out in the morning, and only thirteen men remained in the fort. While the thirteen were going away, they were attacked by the Indians, who were lying in ambush, and the Indians killed four and wounded one - Thomas Higgins. When he was wounded, he attempted to reach the fort, but he was ovei-taken by two Indians. One he knocked senseless with the breech of his gun, and with the other he had a fist fight, but men from the fort came to his relief, and he reached the fort, where my father took from him seven balls. During the battle, one of the women, Lydia Persley, took her musket and started out to kill an Indian, but she was stoj^ped at the gate by the guard. She thought her husband had been killed, and she wanted to seek revenge, but her husband was not killed. This attack was made the 2'7th of August, 1813. The fii'st murder was committed about two and a half miles from ray father's house, at one of our neighbors', Mr. Cox, he himself being killed by the Indians. Rebecca, his sister, killed six out of the seven, while they attempted to enter the house. When we first came to Shoal Creek, game was abundant. My brother, John Lindley, and another man killed twenty-five deer one morning before nine o'clock. They took only the hams and hides, which they took to St. Louis.

"We next moved to what is now known as Madison county, on Silver creek, near what is now Lebanon, where we remained until 1820, when we came to Lick creek, what is now Sangamon county, which then consisted of Mason, Menard, Cass, Logan, Tazewell and part of Christian, a small part of Macon, part of Mc- Lean, part of Woodford, part of Marshall, and part of Putnam. When we came there were but six families near us - John Darnielle, Barton Darneille, John Campbell, John Wycoff, Henry Brown and Levi Harbour. Our mill was near by - we had to go only about eighty or ninety miles, but shortly after there was a horse mill built on Sugar creek. The Indians were still here when we came, but they were somewhat friendly and not very numerous. I was married to Samuel Harbour July 28, 1826; liave lived in the same place ever since, and raised nine children to be men and women. During the time I had many hardships, I had to weave and spin. It only took eight yards of calico to make a dress, and not twenty-eight, as at present. We had to make our clothing from cotton, flax and wool. During the v^inter of the deep snow when we got out of meal, we had to use pounded meal and live on hominy until we could break a road to the horse-mill. When we got out of groceries we had to resort to the woods for sassafras tea. I forgot to mention about the ranger who was wounded on what is now supposed to be Spring creek, and was brought to Sulphur Spring on Lick creek, where he died and was buried, at what is now Sulphur Spring Cemetery, he being the first man buried there. I am nearly seventy-six years old, and have a very sick daughter at present; my mind being flustrated I cannot say near as much as I could otherwise. This being a very, very short sketch of the troubles I have witnessed. I sincerely hope no other person will ever have to pass through the many hardships which I have experienced. Yours respectfully,

" R. W. Diller Esq. : - We were not pioneers of Sangamon county, but were pioneers of Vigo county, Indiana, and as my wife cannot write, I thought I would write a few lines for her and myself. Now if you think these lines will add any to the occasion, all right; if not, throw them into the waste basket. We settled sixteen miles north of Terre Haute, in the fall of 1819, on the outskirts of civilization. The Indians were quite numerous for years after, and quite troublesome, being terrible beggars. We located on up-land, where there was not a tree cut, and the nettles and pea-vines were so thick that we could scarcely see the ground, so we took a horse and brush and dragged them down tor a considerable space around, went to work and put up a camp, moved into it, and in four weeks moved into a hewed log house, nineteen feet square, in which we lived the next winter without a chimney. The place for the chimney was cut out and the lire just outside, bat we were well smoked that winter. While this work was going on, we had to grate all the meal for quite a large family. After corn became too hard we used the hominy mortar and pestle. There was no mill nearer than thirty miles, and then of a dry season it could not grind. A miller told us once to live on faith and dumplings, but we had nothing to make dumplings of. For clothing, many of the boys and some of the men had to wear dressed buckskin. In fact, I have seen Randolph Wedding, of Terre Haute, dressed in buckskin from head to foot. He became afterwards County Judge."

"And now a word about Miss Brown, who is now Mrs. Headley. She came a few years later from old Spencer county, Indiana, a poor girl, working about from place to place. She spent four months with two families, and received about two dollars. She often washed for families, and scrubbed the floor, for twenty-five cents. After she became older and more experienced, never received to exceed seventy-five cents per week. In those days many families made their own cotton. She states, when she went to school she had to take cotton in the seed with her, and pick it during play time. When she carded and spun cotton, six cuts were a day's work; spinning flax or wool, twelve cuts were required for a day's work. In those days our girls dressed very plainly. I never knew them to train their silks and satins in the dust. Their every-day dresses were homespun, but on Sunday they managed to have something nicer. She states, when she went to meeting she has often, in warm weather, carried her shoes and stockings, and when near the place, she would put them on. One other incident I will mention. I was invited by an uncle of mine, where she was staying, to assist him to bring in a deer he had killed. So we brought home the deer, quite tired and hungry. Miss Brown stepped around quite lively, and soon had a good dinner on the table. I then and there fell in love with her,

" And now all honor and God's blessing be on the old pioneer fathers and mothers, who, through great difficulties, sickness, poverty and privations, laid the foundation for the prosperity we now enjoy.