Marshall County, Indiana - The whole text, 1908 (part 6 of 12)

But spinning was the most difficult operation of all. The old spinning wheel was an absolutely indispensable piece of furniture in every wellregulated cabin. They were of two kinds : the large wheel with the projecting spindle, which was used only to spin wool, and the small wheel with distaff, which was used mostly for spinning flax, but on which wool was sometimes spun. To draw out the roll and turn the wheel just fast enough to move the spindle with the proper velocity to make the thread the proper size and keep it so, was something that not everyone could do. ^^'hen the spool was filled the thread was run off on a reel until it had so many "cuts," when they were taken off into "hanks," and then into dozens and hung up in bunches for use when needed.

The yarn was colored red, brown, black, yellow and blue, according to the fancy of the manufacturers. This was generally used for "filling." The chain was generally of cotton yarn and was either white or of one color, black, brown or deep red.

The loom was generally of domestic manufacture, except the reed and shuttles, which were purchased from those who made them for the retail trade. The dift'erent colored threads were fastened into as many shuttles and passed through the warp from one side to the other as often as was necessary to make the stripe desired, when that particular shuttle would be laid aside and a shuttle containing another color would be taken up and passed through, and so on alternately until all had been used. Some very handsome plaids were made in this way and when worked up into "linsy woolsy" dresses and other garments for the female portion of the household, they were not only handsome, but, for winter wear, warm and comfortable.

When cloth was to be woven for men's wear the yarn was generally colored blue, and to make it variegated, a string would be tied tightly around the hank before it was dipped into the coloring kettle, and this would prevent the color from taking eft'ect, leaving a white spot in the thread which, when woven into cloth, gave it the appearance of "Kentucky jeans." A suit of this kind of cloth, when neatly worked up, made a dress that was not to be sneezed at.

For summer wear linen made of flax was generally used, and so almost every farmer had a flax patch sufficiently large to supply the supposed demand. After the ground was prepared the seed was sown, and nothing more was necessary until the stalks had ripened and it was ready to pull. It was carefully pulled up by the roots and laid down in swaths to cure, after which it was bound in bundles and put under cover for use when wanted. A flax break was made having a lever with grooves in it, so that when the flax was placed on the break and the lever was pressed down on it with sufiicient force the straw inside would be broken, leaving the fiber undisturbed. When the flax was thoroughly broken, in order to get all the pieces of straw out from among the fiber it had to be carefully "scutched" or "wingled." This was done by setting a board upright and rounding off the top, making it even and smooth. An instrument made of hickory wood, say about three feet long, much in the shape of a butcher knife, with a proper handle, with which to do the scutching, was used. Taking a hand full of broken flax in his left hand, close to the lower end, and throwing it over the top of the board, and taking the "scutcher" in his right hand he beat away, turning it in his hand as often as necessary until the broken straw had all been scutched out, and nothing but the fiber, which had been beaten into tow, left. Before it could be spun into thread it was necessary to run it through a hackle for the purpose of separating the coarse part from the fine. When it had been properly hackled it was wound tightly on a distaff", which was a necessary attachment to the old spinning wheel. Starting a thread from the flax on the distaff, setting the wheel in motion and keeping it going by foot power, our ancient and amiable mothers would work away from morning until night, day in and day out, spinning thread out of which to make husband and children shirts and other clothing for the summer.

The weaving of cloth out of flax was done on the same loom and in the same way as woolen cloth was woven. The main garment made out of flax cloth was men's and boys' shirts. At first, without underclothing, as may be well imagined, they were a "holy terror" to the skin, and as there were no buttons, and the collars and sleeves had to be fastened with a needle and thread and tied in a hard knot, there was no way of getting them loose so as to relieve one's epidermis by scratching. After they were washed and ironed a few times, however, they became quite smooth and were more or less endurable.

The greatest difficulty the writer had in wearing these primitive shirts was in getting the cufifs and collar unfastened and properly fastened up again when he stole away on Sunday against the express commands of his parents and went in swimming. Some of the wicked boys in the neighborhood, however, generally managed to secretly carry off the family needle and thread, after it had been used for the day, and in that case the collar and cufl^s would be fastened, and unless some other evidence of truancy appeared, the beech rod above the fireplace would be permitted to remain in its place; otherwise, otherwise.

When the first pioneers came there was nothing here but a wilderness. Few evidences of civilization were to be seen anywhere. Telegraphing had not then been discovered, and there was not a railroad within a thousand miles in any direction, and at that time there was not even a stage line within forty miles. With the coming of white people closely followed the "pony express mail carrier," once a month, then weekly and triweekly, and so on.

Those who were here then will remember when an occasional New York, Philadelphia or Baltimore paper strayed out this way, the picture of the pony express would be looked for to see what time the mail was scheduled to leave the east for the west, and what time it would be due at Pittsburg, Cincinnati and Indianapolis, and the probable date of its arrival here. It will be remembered how fast that mail carrier seemed to be going. The pony was running at full speed ; the mail carrier was bent forward at an angle of 45 degrees, and was heralding his approach by the blasts from his tin horn. But he did not make half as rapid headway as he appeared to be making. Most of the road he had to travel over was through the wilderness, and before he reached the end of his journey he met with many a mishap that delayed his arrival for hours and days.

The letters he brought were written on blue letter paper with goosequill pens, folded in the form of our present envelopes, envelopes not having been invented then, and sealed with a red wafer or sealing wax, mucilage being a discovery of a later date. Letter postage at that time was rated according to distance, 25 cents being the rate from the eastern cities, payable in coin on delivery, postage stamps not having been invented at that time and for many years afterwards. It is easy to be seen that the number of letters that failed to reach the parties to whom they were addressed and consequently sent to the dead letter office without the postage having been collected was an immense loss to the United States.

There were no roads or bridges in those days, and the neighbors in finding their way to the cabins of each other followed the Indian trails, which were the first roads in this part of the country. There is more method and symbolism in laying out an Indian trail than may be imagined. As illustrative of all the Pottawattomie Indian trails in this county and in northern Indiana, the writer avails himself of the following truthful and elegantly worded description of the Pottawattomie trail as given by Charles H. Bartlett in his admirable "Tales of Kankakee Land." The Indian trail, he says, was an Indian path with all the features that the term might indicate. It never crossed over a hill which it might go around ; it crept through the hollows, avoiding, however, with greatest care, those conditions in which a moccasin could not be kept dry and clean ; it clung to the shadows of the big timber belts, and when an arm of the prairie intervened sought to traverse such a place of possible danger by the route which was shortest and least exposed. At every step the ancient path tells the story of wilderness fears. Yet the travelers of this venerable avenue of the old life had also their own peculiar delights. A warm and sheltered path in the winter time ; its fragrant airs were cool and soft in summer days. All the woodland flowers crowded to its margin ; the blue violets and the water-cress ; yellow honeysuckles ; the fringed gentian ; the roses, the ox-eyed daisies - and where the shades were damp and dark, yellow ladies" slippers_ and purple ones. When the heavy foliage above parted wide to let the sunshine fall on some gentle slope, there was the strawberry bank all white with promise, or growing with the ruby red of its luscious sweets, or throwing above the tender leaves of its pink stolas to make sure the feasts of coming days. The birds loved the red man's path, stationed their homes in the thickets that bordered its course, sang their morning songs beneath those rifts where the blue sky looked down, and there, while the twilight lingered, warbled their evening hymns.

And then, to the Pottawattomie, this above all others was the ancient highway of his people. All the pageant of his life was then in the springtime and in the moon of falling leaves passing before them in living remembrance. When these scenes were over the old men loved to wander along this path and rehearse the stories of the past and tell the times when they with their people in tumultuous throng hurried home from the chase. With trembling voice and solemn gesture they pointed out the spot where a chief with warriors brave once fell victims to the deadly ambush ; or this was the tree where the children had been lured to their death by the mocking wail of a panther ; or, in that place the Great Spirit with a countenance of light had spoken of his children in a voice of thunder. Then on the old path they told off, as on a rosary, the sacred traditions of their people.

It was a long time after the first settlers came to the county before any roads were regularly laid out and opened for travel. Indian trails were followed wherever they led in the desired direction. Wherever it was thought that a road should be opened the route would be selected by those interested and a man sent over the route with an ax to blaze the way. The brush and logs were cut out, and the man with the ax would cut the bark off of the trees along the line a foot or two long and about five or six feet from the roots, on both sides of the trees, that would be seen by those passing along the road going and coming. One of the first of these roads was from the region of Maxinkuckee lake by way of the Indian trail near Menominee village at Twin lakes, and so on to Plymouth. Another branch was by way of Wolf Creek and from there by the nearest route through the woods to the Michigan road, which had been cleared out and blazed so that it could be used after a fashion, and thence on to Plymouth. A road was also early cleared and blazed from Plymouth to Bourbon by way of what is now Inwood, and on to the Benak Indian village in Tippecanoe township. Short roads were opened in the same way in various parts of the county where most needed, but without any system or legal authority. The lines of these early roads were selected so as to avoid swamps and marshes, and as much as possible to avoid the building of corduroy bridges. In this way they were like the Indian trails - they meandered around over the county without regard to the distance to be traveled and without any regard as to whose lands it was that the road was built upon.

The Michigan road has an interesting history. Several years ago the writer of this history made as thorough investigation of this subject as possible, procuring the data for such investigation from the Interior Department at Washington. The following is the result of that investigation :

Prior to 1826 numerous treaties had been made with the Pottawattomie Indians, the owners and inhabitants of the country embraced in Indiana, southern Michigan and northern Illinois, by which they were to give up most of their lands and hunting grounds to the United States for the benefit of the white population. After these treaties were proclaimed, gangs of government surveyors were sent out to survey and plat the land, which was done, and the land opened to entry at $1.25 an acre. Through these government surveyors, axmen and chainmen it soon became noised about that a most delightful and productive country had been found, with beautiful lakes and watercourses, and every kind of fish and wild game, wild fruits, etc., in abundance. Many of these surveyors, with Indian traders, land speculators and government agents, entered into a scheme to persuade the Pottawattomie Indians to make a treaty giving to the government a strip of land 100 feet wide through the entire state from Lake Michigan to the Ohio river, with a contiguous section of land through which the road should run which should belong to the state of Indiana and by it be given to those who should be awarded the contracts to build the road. It was to be a great national thoroughfare, the northern terminus of which was the mouth of Trail creek at Michigan City, and the southern at Madison, Ind. After the treaty was made the Indiana legislature took the matter up, and among other things named it the "Michigan road." The treaty by which the Pottawattomies granted the land for this road was article 3 of the treaty made October 16, 1826, concluded near the mouth of the Mississinewa, on the Wabash, Indiana, between Lewis Cass of Michigan and James B. Ray and John Tipton of Indiana, commissioners on the part of the United States, and the chiefs and warriors of the Pottawattomie tribe of Indians. This article of the treaty is as follows:

"Article 3. As an evidence of the attachment which the Pottawattomie tribe feel towards the American people, and particularly to the soil of Indiana, and with a view to demonstrate their liberality and benefit themselves by creating facilities for traveling and increasing the value of their remaining country, the said tribe do hereby cede to the United States a strip of land commencing at Lake Michigan and running thence to the Wabash river, 100 feet wide, for a road, and also one section of good land contiguous to the said road for each mile of the same, and also for each mile of a road from the termination thereof through Indianapolis to the Ohio river for the purpose of making a road aforesaid from Lake Michigan by way of Indianapolis to some convenient point on the Ohio river. And the general assembly shall have a right to locate the said road and to apply the said sections or the proceeds thereof to the making of the same, or any part thereof, and the said grant shall be at their sole disposal."

As I view it, the wording of the treaty was a cunningly devised arrangement to swindle the Indians out of an immense amount of the best lands belonging to them in the state. The words "good land" enabled the legislature to zigzag the road so as to avoid all the bad land and run around through all the "contiguous good land" through the entire state. By referring to the map of Marshall county it will be seen that from the time the road enters the county on the south until it reaches the northern boundary, the Michigan road sections are so disjointed on the map that they have the appearance of a great big stairway. From Argos north the line of the road angles off to the west before it reaches Plymouth, about two miles and a half. The object of this "wobbling" was to avoid low or swamp lands and get over onto a better quality. Near Benoni Jordan's old farm, now owned by D. E. Snyder, four miles south of Plymouth, the angle is so abrupt that the sections are barely "contiguous." From La Paz the road zigzags about until it reaches South Bend, where it turns abruptly and runs directly west through some of the best prairie lands in the state, or anywhere else for that matter, and then turns north and finally finds its way into the mouth of Trail creek at Michigan City.

The disjointed manner in which these Michigan road sections appear on the map of Indiana is a perpetual verdict against the conspirators who defrauded the Indians out of their rights ; and like the blood on the hands of Lady McBeth, "the d d spot will not out."

It was in 1832-3 that this end of the road was ordered to be "cut" and "opened" and these are the directions prescribed by the legislature of 1832 (see pages 124-5, ^cts of that session) :

"Cut and clear off said part of said road all logs, timber and underbrush, leaving no stump more than one foot above the level of the earth, and grub thirty feet wide in the center of said road."

Polk, Blair and Seering were the contractors through this part of the state, and the late Robert Schroeder of North township was one of the bosses that superintended the job. He told me many times before his death the manner in which this great thoroughfare was opened up, and according to history, the truth of which cannot be doubted, the work was the merest pretext toward complying with the intent of the law. The road was practically impassable for much of the way through this part of the state; the mud holes, which were numerous, were bridged over with poles and logs placed on cross logs without any particular system, the brush cut off and piled up by the side of the road, and some of the knobs and high places cut down, and that was about all that was done to make it the great thoroughfare that the Indians had been made to believe was to be built for their especial benefit. Within five or si.x years after this road was declared open, the various small reservations still held by the Pottawattomies were secured from them by treaty, and those who refused to leave the country were driven away, starting from Twin lakes September 4, 1838, in charge of a company of soldiers under command of Gen. John Tipton, one of the commissioners who secured the making of the treaty. Thus was completed one of the darkest pages in the history of Indiana.

Next in importance to the Michigan road was what was called the La Porte road. In the beginning it was little more than an Indian trail and was established more as a post road between Plymouth and La Porte than for purposes of travel. At first the mail was carried once a week between the two places ; later it was increased to three times a week, and finally to a twohorse wagon daily, which also carried passengers back and forth. In examining some ancient documents over in La Porte county not long ago a student of local history came across a contract written by J. H. Bradley with a quill pen on an old-fashioned unruled legal folio sheet, which, though the paper is yellowed with age and stained by exposure to the weather, is as clear and legible as on the day it was written. Following is the wording of the contract, as nearly as it can be reproduced in print :

Made this si.xth day of May in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and thirty-seven, between John H. Bradley, Mail Contractor, for carrying the United States Mail from LaPorte, by Plymouth to Chippewa, once a week and back, of the one part, and Erastus Ingersol, of Marshall county, Indiana, of the other part, as follows, to-wit, the said Ingersol, agrees and hereby binds himself to carry or have carried, the said United States Mail on the said Eoute from LaPorte by Plymouth to Chippewa, according to the terms, times and manner prescribed by the postoffice department, and in all things to comply, with the directions, and requisitions of the law, and the Post Office Department in carrying guarding and delivery of the same, for and during the full terms and time of said contract, to commence on the ninth day of May, A. D., 1837, and continue until the said contract be ended, for the sum price and consideration of three hundred and fifty dollars per annum - and at and for that rate and proportion to be paid by the said John H. Bradley in the manner hereinafter mentioned - and also the said Erastus Ingersol agrees and binds himself to pay and satisfy all fines, forfeitures, penalties and amercements, imposed or exacted by the said postoffice department, for or on account of any and all failures or delinquencies, about the performance of the said contract, while in his hand, or while he is carrying the same, and to allow the said John H. Bradley to deduct the same from the amount to be paid to the said Ingersol, for his services aforesaid.

In consideration whereof, the said John H. Bradley agrees and binds himself to pay to the said Erastus Ingersol the said sum of money aforesaid, or the rateable proportion thereof, as soon as the money shall be received from the department, and at no other times or manner whatever, deducting therefrom any and all fines and exactions for delinquencies aforesaid - and making from the money due July 1st, 1837, the further deduction of seventy-five dollars, the amount of a note held by the said John H. Bradley on the said Ingersol - the price of a mare sold to him.

To the true performance of all which covenants and agreements the said parties bind themselves the one to the other in the sum of three hundred dollars. Witness our hands and seals May 6th, A. D., 1837.

This document is a reminder of the days when things at La Porte were in their beginnings. In May, 1837, the village was hardly more than four years old, Plymouth and Rochester had not yet been laid out a year, the Yellow river road from La Porte to Plymouth was little better than a blazed trail through the woods and marshes, and the Michigan road, though opened three and a half years earlier, was very, very far from being usable as a race course. Notwithstanding the fact that Daniel Webster broke dirt in La Porte county July 4, 1837, for a railroad, no such commercial artery was actually in operation in this section until fifteen years passed by. La Porte had a postoffice in 1833, Plymouth not until 1837. Mail routes were just being opened up in northwestern Indiana.

John H. Bradley was one of La Porte's greatest lawyers, his admission to the bar being dated October 12, 1835. He was aggressive in politics on the Whig side and served repeatedly in the state legislature, besides being defeated nearly as often. He was a great orator and a profound student, and in his early life as a pioneer in this region he was glad to reach aside from the practice of his profession and take a contract to haul the mail, not to perform that arduous labor himself but to sublet it at a small profit.

Erastus Ingersol, the subcontractor and actual post-rider, belongs to the history of Marshall county, in which his appearance is very obscure. On horseback with his sacks of mail, in all sorts of weather, he followed roads that would now be thought impassable, covering the distance in two days, or four days for the round trip. About that same time a regular stage line was operated from La Porte to Plymouth, connecting there with the Concord coaches plying up and down the Michigan road between South Bend and Indianapolis, at which latter point connection was made with the lines east and west on the National road. J. C. Howell, the witness to the contract, was a La Porte merchant.

The Chippewa named as one of the terminals of the route - called Chippe-wa-qua in some of the old records - would be difficult to find now save with help from some curious antiquary, but then it was an important and a hopeful settlement, well known to every traveler on the Michigan road. It was a formidable rival of Rochester for selection as the county seat, and even now one can hardly see why it was not chosen because of the beauty, healthfulness and availability of its site near the intersection of the great northern highway and the Tippecanoe river (then more important than now) unless it was too far from the county's center.

William Poike, Michigan road commissioner, entered the land at that place, built his log cabin there in 1832, the first house on the road north of the Wabash, moved his family to it from the southern end of the state and established there his official headquarters. It was a home of great hospitality. The tourist for pleasure, the traveler for business, the Catholic missionary priest, the Protestant preacher, the state or government official, the teamster and road laborer, the vagrant Indian - for all these the door of that small cabin in the woods was opened. Gen. John Tipton, Col. Abel C. Pepper and other important functionaries were often there and under the trees close by several Indian treaties were concluded. There in 1834 was celebrated the marriage of Mary, daughter of William Polke, with John B. Niles, then a young lawyer whose brilliant future was but faintly indicated. William Niles, born of that union September 27, 1835, is now the oldest living white person who was born in La Porte. He and Mrs. Emmet H. Scott are tlie present owners of the long-forgotten Chippewa, the terminal point of La Porte's earliest southern mail routes and designed to be one of the chief cities along the historic Michigan road. The original cabin is still in existence and is occupied, as is also the frame house on the adjoining farm, which was also built by William Polke and was the first frame house north of the Wabash on the Michigan road.

This road was the same as the La Porte and Plymouth mail route above referred to. The board of commissioners of Marshall county early took steps to open the road and put it in condition for the increasing travel over that line to La Porte, and especially to Michigan City, where shipments of grain and other produce was made, and where all kinds of merchandise was received by lake from New York and Chicago, and hauled overland to Plymouth and farther south to Rochester.

At a special session of the board held in the early part of July (no date is given on the record) the following order appears on Order Book A, page 17, in reference to this road :

Ordered, That Stephen Marsters, commissioner of the three per cent (3) fund for said county, is ordered to lay out five hundred dollars ($500) on the road leading from Plymouth, in the said county of Marshall, to La Porte, commonly called the ' ' Yellow Eiver road, ' ' which sum shall be expended on that part of said road which is within the bounds of the said county of Marshall, and the said commissioner aforesaid shall proceed to lay off the said road in lots of quarter sections as near as may be and expend the aforesaid appropriation in the places mostly needing the same. The said commissioner shall cause the said road to be cross [word indistinct] with good lasting timber, to be eighteen feet in length, in those parts of said road wherein he may deem it necessary, and cause the same to be covered with clay, sand or gravel five or sis inches in depth; and also cause culverts to be put in said road and said road to be ditched so as to cause the water to drain from the same wherein his judgment may deem it necessary ; and said commissioner shall proceed to sell the same to the lowest bidder at public auction in the town of Plymouth, in said county, after having advertised the same ten days previous to the day of sale by posting up written advertisements at several of the most public places in said county. Contractors to give bond with security to be approved by the said commissioner in double the sum of their contracts for their faithful performance of said work; said road to be completed by the fifteenth (15th) day of November, 1836. Said commissioners to pay one-fourth of the money when contractors have their contracts half completed and no more.

At the September term, 1837, Stephen Marsters, the commissioner of the 3 per cent fund, reported that he had expended on the Yellow River road a total of $1,107.41, to the contractors - Sidney Williams, Williamson Owens, Thomas Singleton and Gustavus A. Cone. For many years afterward much work was done on the road before it became fairly passable.

During the year 185 1 the question of how to obtain good roads was the all-absorbing topic of conversation and discussion among the people of Marshall county. At that time there were very few regularly established wagon roads in the county. The Michigan road, extending through the county from south to north, had been opened after a fashion, as had also the road between Plymouth and La Porte. Roads leading in other directions mostly followed the Indian trails, the brush and logs being cleared out and the trees blazed so that those passing along would not get lost. The ponds and sink holes, which were numerous, were bridged over with logs and poles and covered with a light coating of loose dirt. Roads ran wherever it was most convenient, without regard to section lines, as there was little cleared land then to be interfered with. In the spring and fall of the year, known as the "rainy seasons," the roads became almost impassable. Ox teams were mostly used then, and it was about all a single yoke of oxen could do to haul even an empty wagon any considerable distance. The Michigan and La Porte roads were traveled more than any others in the county, but the more they were traveled the worse they got. The sub-soil, sand and mud holes were numerous, and teaming was the most difficult thing the farmers and business men had to do. Naturally enough this deplorable condition of the roads led to an effort to improve them, resulting in the attempt to build plank roads over the main lines of travel.

The Plymouth Pilot, which was the only paper in the county at that time, took up the discussion of the advisability of building plank roads and pursued it with vigor for some time, although it does not appear that it resulted in accomplishing much toward the final completion of the roads then being built in this direction. i\mong other things the editor said :

"Here we have a county containing a population of 8,000. We have but one town in the county, and no other town within twenty miles of us and no good market under forty miles. In order to get to that market we have to pass over some most execrable roads at all seasons of the year, which are easily bettered and which we fail to make any eifort in, while our neighbors around us are all awake to their own welfare and offering every assistance to us that we can ask, and that needs only the taking advantage of to bring a market to our own door."

"The interests of Michigan City and La Porte are identical, and we should care nothing for their bickerings. South Bend, twenty-four miles north, is on the St. Joseph river, with the Southern railroad through it and the Central ten miles distant, and the warehouse of the Central at Mishawaka, twenty-four miles from here, prepared to receive produce at Niles without additional charge. Boats are running on the river carrying produce to St. Joseph to be shipped on the lake. Rochester is twenty miles south; Logansport forty-three miles south on the canal and will probably soon have a railroad and depot. Now here we have a diagram of our means of outlet, and now comes the value of plank roads. Logansport is building to Rochester and has completed about fifteen miles. South Bend has built about ten miles toward us. La Porte has built about twelve miles toward us, and it remains with us whether it comes here or goes through North Liberty to South Bend."

"Lay down your plank one foot wide, nine feet long, and full two and one-half inches thick, and it will stay there. With railroads all around us and thoroughfares opening in every direction, we are 'stoning the squirrel while the dog is robbing our dinner basket !' Wake up, then, and show us the man that says he won't take a share in it and push it through, and we will show you the man that goes to mill with the wheat in one end of the bag and a stone in the other, 'because his father did.' "

The road from La Porte, if memory is not at fault, was only completed to the Kankakee river, where it connected with a toll bridge across that stream known as "Lemon's bridge." Until the completion of the La Porte & Plymouth railroad in 1855, "Lemon's bridge" was a popular stopping place. Horses were watered and fed there, meals served, and a little something for the stomach's sake could be had upon a pinch. Frequently teams loaded with wheat for the "port at Michigan City" camped out there over night during the summer, starting early the next morning and arriving at Michigan City by sundown.

The plank road was completed most of the way to Plymouth during the year 1852. It never paid the expense of construction, and after a few years was abandoned. The boards soon began to warp at the ends and as no repairs were made the road became almost impassable. The planks were finally taken tip and piled at the side of the road and finally rotted or were burned up. It was many years before the Michigan road to South Bend was fairly passable, and even to this day it might be a good deal better than it is. Before the war all the plank roads that had been built were abandoned, and that great improvement scheme that promised so much in the beginning came to an inglorious end.

Xxv. Springs And Dug Wells

Of course every cabin had to be provided with a well or spring from which water for drinking, cooking and washing purposes could be drawn. Springs were not very numerous and they were confined to hills and gulleys and along the banks of the lakes, rivers and small streams. Places where springs could be secured were few and far between, and therefore the water supply mostly came from dug wells, and these were supplied almost entirely w'ith surface water. A five or six square foot hole would be dug in as low ground as could be found near the cabin, to a depth generally of from twelve to twenty-five or thirty feet, or until the first surface vein of water would be struck, when the digging would cease and a barrel or square box would be sunk in the bottom, into which notches would be cut, or auger holes would be bored into it to allow the water to seep in through the gravel or sand, or, more frequently, blue clay. This "hole in the ground" was boarded up with heavy boards split out of red oak logs, to prevent the well from caving in. Generally the water was drawn by means of a wooden or tin bucket, to which a rope would be tied, or if the well wasn't too deep a long, slim pole with a hook and fastener at the lower end would be used. These were generally only for temporary use. When deeper wells would be dug, and better water would be found, the well sweep and the "old oaken bucket," about which so much has been said and written, would be erected. These "sweeps" were made by erecting a large post in the ground, say twelve or fifteen feet. A long pole, heavy at the butt end and tapering until it was quite small at the top end, was fastened into the top of the erect pole, in a socket cut for the purpose, through which a two-inch auger hole was bored and a hard, seasoned hickory pin was inserted. To the top end was fastened a small pole or a rope or chain of a length about the depth of the well, to the lower end of which the bucket would be attached. The lower end of the sweep rested on the ground. When water was needed to be drawn the bucket was put over the top of the curbing and let down to the bottom of the well by pulling the top of the sweep down. A sinker, a stone or piece of iron, was attached to the bail of the bucket, which turned the top of the bucket sideways, when the water would run in and fill it, -^hen it would be pulled up to the top and emptied into the bucket or other vessel at hand used for that purpose.

This mode of procuring water was almost universal, for the reason that there were no pumps to be had here at that time. Up to 1840, and probably to 1850, there was not a pump in the county. The Indians who were here before that time had no dug wells and got their water from the lakes, rivers, branches, creeks and ponds, wherever they might happen to be located.

Tinware was very scarce for a number of years and tin cups for drinking or other purposes were hard to get. As a consequence other devices were resorted to, many of which were quite unique. Many will remember the small gourd cut and cleaned out in the shape of a dipper, with a long crooked handle, that used to hang on a bush near the spring, or a peg at the well, out of which the thirsty was always welcome to drink and refresh himself. It was not uncommon to see the shell of a turnip that had been scraped out used for drinking purposes. Many will remember, too, of having seen wooden cups and bowls cut out of soft wood by experts with jack-knives that were useful, if not very ornamental. It was not uncommon for the male portion of the inhabitants when very thirsty to lie down on the ground and drink out of the creeks, springs, etc. They sometimes turned up the rims of their hats, dipped them in the water, and drank in that way ; and frequently the large leaves of the pawpaw bushes in their season would be plucked off and made into a ladle shape, which made an excellent substitute for a dipper to drink out of.

The lack of good water in the early times was the greatest drawback the first settlers had to contend with.- The only pure water and the only water fit to drink was the water obtained from springs, but these were very rare and but a very small percentage of the people had access to them.

As a general rule the water obtained from wells was "surface water," full of malaria, and during the summer months, when it was drunk in larger quantities than at any other season of the year, it was sure to bring on ague, bilious fever, typhoid fever, flux and other summer complaints, often to an alarming extent, and frequently it was not an uncommon thing for entire families to be prostrated with some of these diseases at the same time.

The ague was the most prevalent of the diiiferent varieties of malarial diseases, and it came on every day, every other day, every three days, every seven, fourteen and twenty-one days, and was known as the "chills and fever," "fever'n ager," "shakes" and the like. To the newcomer it was a holy terror, but it was no respecter of persons. It attacked old and young alike. In the fall of the year, after all had gone through the summer's siege of this hated disease, nearly everybody looked pale and sallow like they had been frostbitten. It came on with a chill, which usually developed into a shake that would make one's teeth chatter so that the sound could be heard for some distance about the cabin. The shaker covered himself with blankets and comforters, no matter how hot the weather was, and he shook and shook and shook until his bones fairly rattled. In an hour or two the chill went ofif and then came on the fever, followed by a thirst for water that could not be quenched. After two or three hours the fever passed off and the patient began to recuperate sufficiently to get up and walk about. But oh, how miserable he did feel! In many cases it was impossible to get rid of it and it had to be endured until frost came and killed the malaria that produced it.

The year 1850, when the entire population of the county was only about 5,000, more deaths occurred than during any year before or since on the basis of population. From the census report which was made on the first of June of that year the total number of deaths from the diseases named was set down at 133. That was June I. It is quite probable that a great many more deaths occurred during July, August, September and October, so that it is fair to estimate that not less than 300 souls were removed by death caused by malaria, generated through impure water during that year!

A note by the census taker stated that "this year has been remarkable for the unusual number of deaths. A very fatal disease known here as typhoid fever has prevailed to an alarming extent in the center of the county and spread in all directions, reaching to the extreme parts of the county. The flux, bilious and scarlet fever have also been prevalent."

The physicians here at that time were not very well read and were scantily supplied with medicines which were supposed to be specifics for these diseases and half the time not knowing what the real ailment of the patient was, probably a large per cent died for lack of proper medical knowledge and attention.

In those days most of the doctors considered "bleeding" necessary to get the patient's system in proper condition to receive medical treatment. When he arrived he looked wise, felt the patient's pulse, examined the tongue, shook his head to indicate that it was a dangerous case and that bleeding was necessary ! The clothing was removed from the patient's arm, a string tied tightly around it above the elbow to stop the circulation, a bowl or pan was procured to catch the blood, the doctor took his lance.

ripped open the vein, and the blood spurted out two or three feet high. Sometimes half a bowl full would be drawn from the patient before the flow could be stopped. The next thing was to administer a dose of calomel and jalap. As a general thing this would take his insides out and salivate him so his gums and teeth would be permanently ruined. If the patient recovered under this treatment the physician was considered "the best doctor in the country," and his praises were sounded far and wide. If he died, his death was attributed to the inscrutable interposition of Divine Providence !

During the Civil war, or perhaps a little later, driven wells were invented, that is, procuring water through hollow pipes driven into the ground to a considerable depth, far enough, at least, to go below the surface water. As pure water could be procured through these wells they became at once very popular. Well drivers became numerous, every neighborhood having one or more. Whenever a resident wanted a well on his premises he employed one of these well drivers to put one down for him. It happened that these driven wells had been patented, that is, the "process" had been patented by the United States patent office, and as these well drivers did not have permission from the patentees to use their process every well driven into the ground was liable to pay a royalty, which was fixed at $id by the United States district court. About 1879 the owners of Green's patent, having secured the names of all owners of driven wells, sent them notices that they were indebted to the patentees for infringement of their patent in the well driven on their premises in the sum of $10 and unless it was paid within a reasonable time a suit would be brought against them in the United States district court to recover the amount. As might be expected, this created great excitement among the people owning driven wells, as they had paid the well drivers for putting down the wells and they supposed that was all there was of it. The excitement increased as it extended to every township in the county and finally resulted in the organization of an Anti-Driven Well Association to resist the payment of the royalty demanded. It was a Plymouth organization, but quite a number of members belonged to it from various localities throughout the county. A legal opinion as to the probability of successfully resisting the payment of the royalty was secured from the law firm of Baker, Hord & Hendricks, of Indianapolis, to the effect that similar cases had been brought against the patentee and in every case his patent had been sustained, giving him the lawful right to collect royalty on all infringers. At the same time the agent of the patentee, fearing a long siege of litigation, proposed that he would compromise with the members of the association for $5 on each well, half the amount originally asked. The legal opinion, together with this proposition, was made to the association at a called meeting, and in view of the uncertainty of succeeding in the courts, the proposition was accepted, each of the members paying $5 for each well, and the association disbanded. For a considerable time it created quite a bitter feeling among those who wanted to fight it out and those who favored compromising. Finally most of those having wells paid up and the matter was dropped. While the royalty collected from the people was not far removed from highway robbery, yet the wells did more to improve the health of the community by furnishing pure water and driving out malaria than anything that ever occurred.

Xxvl Clearing Up Farms

The clearing up of farms was the hardest work the pioneer farmer had to do. The land was mostly covered with a heavy growth of timber, which had to be cut down and rolled into log heaps, and the limbs, etc., piled into what was called "brush heaps" and burned, which, as the timber was green and full of sap, was a very slow process, and frequently took several seasons before the chunks were all consumed. The slaughter of the very best kind of timber in those early days is something fearful to contemplate now by the people living away down here three-quarters of a century since then, when the country has been almost entirely denuded of some of the finest timber that ever grew out of the earth. At that time there was no particular use for it, and the only object was how best and the cheapest way to get rid of it. The finest stately poplars, the tall oaks, the ash, and above all the different varieties of walnut, of which the black walnut was afterwards found to be the most valuable because particularly adapted to the manufacture of furniture, came down by the woodman's ax. In after years the walnut timber that grew upon the land was found to be more valuable than the land itself.

When the timber on a piece of land had been felled and was ready to roll, the neighbors for miles around were invited to a "log rolling" and with several yoke of oxen to help in hauling the logs together, the work was soon done. The ground was generally covered with underbrush and small saplings, and the roots had to be taken out with a mattock and grubhoe, and this primitive implement had to be operated by main strength, and those who know how it is themselves know that it was the hardest kind of work. Stock, such as cattle, hogs, sheep and horses, ran at large, and so the clearing had to be fenced, and this was done with rails split from the trees near by. An iron wedge, a few "gluts," an ax and a maul were the implements used, and as in "grubbing," the splitting had to be done by main force.

To fence a forty-acre lot was a long, tedious job, and many a man ruined his health bv long continuance at this kind of labor. But after this work was done, there was a harder job still - that of plowing the ground. There were no chilled plows in those days, and the first plowing of the ground was nearly always done with a large breaking plow and wooden moldboard, to which were hitched two or three or more yoke of oxen. When the ground had been gone over it had more the appearance of having been rooted up by the hogs than having been turned over with a plow. Plows met with roots and stones every few rods, and many is the time that he who held the plow handles was hit in the side or in'the umbilical region by the handles when the plow struck a big root, and had the breath knocked out of him before he knew what the matter was.

Usually the first crop planted was corn, and between the rows was planted the old-fashioned "Hoosier punkin." It was worth all that was raised to keep the chipmunks, wild squirrels, blackbirds and crows from stealing all the seed that was planted. Usually the corn rows near the fence and woods would have to be replanted two or three times, and even then if half the hills came up it would almost invariably be destroyed while in the roasting-ear before it matured.

The ground was very rich, and it was a race from start to finish between the weeds and corn as to which could outgrow the other. The weeds that caused the most trouble, and were the greatest annoyance, were the wild nettles. To touch them was equal to the sting of a bee, and the more one tried to keep clear of them the more one was sure to run into them.

As soon as the ears of corn turned from the milk into the grain they were used by the family for food. They were cooked in various ways, whichever was the most convenient. They were boiled, roasted before the fire, the grain cut off the cob and fried, or boiled in a kettle with beans, with a piece of pork for seasoning ; and when a fellow was real hungry, with a piece of hot corn bread, and a bowl of sweet milk, there was nothing like it in the heavens above or in the earth beneath.

When the corn ripened, and before the frost came, the stocks were cut off close to the ground and set up in shocks of the proper size, larger at the bottom and small at the top, tied with a band made of smaller stalks or of bark or grass.

It was after the corn had been cut and shocked from one of these fields that our own Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley, drew his inspiration for that charming bit of poetry that touches a tender chord in the breast of every one who has breathed the pure air of country life and the farm, and which is inserted here as a fitting conclusion to this brief sketch :

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluekin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O it's then's the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed the stock. When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmosphere When the heat of summer 's over and the coolin ' fall is here - Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin '-birds and buzzin' of the bees; But the air's so appetizin', and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock - When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty rustle of the tossels of the corn. And the raspen' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; The stubble in the furries - kindo' lonesome-like, but still A-preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; The hosses in their stalls below - the clover overhead! - O it sets my heart a-cUckin' like the tickin' of a clock. When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

I don't know how to tell it - but ef such a thing could be As the angel's nantin' boardin, and they'd call around on me- I'd want to 'commodate 'em-all, the whole endurin' flock, "When the fTost is on the punkin and the fodder's' in the shock!

Times

James M. Greer. Sr., who came to this coimty with his parents about the time of the organization of Marshall county, has lived in Bourbon township and vicinity ever since to the present time, has written several articles for the county newspapers giving his experiences and recollections of his pioneer days, from which the writer of this has permission to make the following extracts. ]\Ir. Greer says :

"I have seen wild deer in the woods where Bourbon now stands. The deer was a great help to the pioneer in settling Marshall county, as he could have venison the year round. I have seen seventeen deer in one drove. They stay behind each other when running, with their hind feet wide apart and tail high in the air. The under side of a deer's tail is white, and as they jump high in running, their tails present quite a picturesque appearance. The young deer (called faw-n) is spotted, the spots being about the size of a silver ten-cent piece. The fawn is said to be scentless. It appears that nature has provided them with that defense from ferocious animals. A neighbor told me he went out one moonlight night to his cornfield to watch for deer as they came into the cornfield to eat corn. He said he hid himself there to see what the deer would do when they came in the field. When they came they went to eating, and when they got done they went to playing. They skipped, jumped and ran in a circle, and it looked to him like they were playing some kind of a game. He watched them as long as he wanted to : then he shot one of them and that ended the game.

"Pioneers had a hard time to live and make ends meet. In the spring of the year the stock became poor. I have known men to cut down trees in the spring of the year so their stock could get the swelled buds to eat to keep them from starving until the grass got started. They put a bell on the stoutest one if there was one able to carry it. They would go to the lowland and marshes where the grass had started. They would wade into the marshes to get the grass and mire down. The owners wound hunt for them, but couldn't always find them. I recollect one cow that wasn't found until in summer, and then her horns was all that could be seen. In those days some of the marshes would almost mire a cat ; there were a good many cows lost in that way. There were a good many cow bones that rotted in the marshes of Marshall county.

"Going to church in pioneer days was termed 'going to meeting.' I will tell a narrative of preaching in pioneer days. Stuart Bailey, father of Wellington Bailey, of Plymouth, was a pioneer preacher. He told me that he went in west of Plymouth to a pioneer settlement to preach. He said that he got to one of the pioneer dwelhngs after following a crooked trail through the woods until he was about given out. A boy was dispatched to the pioneers of the neighborhood to let them know the preacher had come and there would be preaching at his father's house that evening. About dusk the pioneers began to come in. The house was soon full. Rev. Stuart Bailey told me there had been pumpkins cut into rings and hung on poles overhead. He said that he took his stand beside a bed and went to preaching. He preached and they sang soul-stirring songs. Alost all of them got to shouting. He said he was about exhausted and he fell back on the bed and looked at them jumping, shouting and knocking the pumpkin rings high and low. Religion was free in those days. We had it among us without money and without price, and I believe it to have been a far better article to that in general use among us at this time. The pioneer preachers of Marshall county preached because they were devoted to their religion and also for the love they had for the people, and not for money ; they were earnest, honest, industrious men, and practiced what they preached. When my memory reverts to those happy boyhood years my eyes are tilled with tears.

"The early settlers had to chop all winter to get some ground ready for corn in the spring. There would be fifteen or twenty log rollings in each neighborhood every spring; some men didn't get in more than four or five acres of corn - some ten. When the corn got into roasting ears the black and gray squirrels would go to eating it up. They were in great numbers. The children had to watch the squirrels out of the corn. At intervals they took the dogs and went around the field and drove them into the woods. The early settler had from one to three dogs. I think the county could hardly have been settled without the noble dog. They were all well trained for coon and deer. A good coon dog was considered worth $50. Some hunters would catch enough coons in one winter to pay for the dog. There was a greater demand for dogs sixty years ago than there is today.

"When the early settlers first came to Marshall county they brought hogs with them. They put them in pens and kept them there until they got naturalized to the place, then they would be turned out and taught to come to a feeding place. The sows would stray to the woods after the mast and farrow ; the pigs would get to be hogs and before found would be wild. The only way the owner would know the hogs were his was by the mark on the sow ; every man had his sows marked. When the mast was good I have known men to kill their hogs of¥ the mast that hadn't had a grain of corn. The meat would be soft and spongy. When the mast was scarce the hogs would be thin. The neighbors would help each other get their hogs up. Five or six men and that many dogs would go into the woods, catch them, tie them, haul them home, put them in a pen and feed them until they got fat enough to kill. Sometimes they wouldn't fatten ; they would act like so many hyenas. They wouldn't eat and would have starved to death. It took a pen eight or ten feet high to hold them ; I have known men to let them out because they couldn't be fattened ; they were wild hogs for certain. In those days the dog was a great friend to his master and an incalculable benefit.

A Den of Wolves. "The timber wolf was of a dark color ; they didn't do much harm. I could hear them howling at night in the woods. The dogs kept them away, the sheep were always shut up at night. Some men split slabs out of logs and set them in the ground and made a kind of fort for their sheep. There was a wolf that was called the prairie wolf ; it was smaller than the timber wolf and about the color of a fox. They lived in the ground. My father found a den of them and I was with him when he dug them out. The old wolves were absent. There were five young ones in the den about as large as a tomcat. The county paid $3 each in county orders for wolf scalps. They would pay taxes. A wolf scalp is the skin off the top of the head with the two ears attached. There were wild cats also; their heads were shaped like a bulldog's ; they were of a gray color and had a short thick tail. There was also an animal that was called a porcupine. Its body was covered with quills ; they were very hard and tapered to a sharp point ; when disturbed they would turn the sharp points out from the body and when in quietude they lay flat on the body. I have known dogs to kill them, but I never knew a dog to kill one that didn't have to be made fast and the quills pulled out of his mouth with a pair of pincers.

"There was also beaver in Marshall county. One day, I don't know when, I saw large trees growing on what is said to be a beaver dam. It is said the beaver used his tail for a trowel. There were otters here, it is said. I never saw one, as they are hard to see. They are an aquatic animal. There were plenty of mink here in an early day; they were sought for their fur. There are some here yet. There were plenty of wild turkeys here when this county was first settled. I have seen good-sized droves of them. When I was big enough to handle a gun it was hard to get a shot at a turkey or deer. I got to shoot the black and gray squirrels. They finally became extinct and the red squirrel and the fox squirrel took their place. The red and fox squirrels are more of a domestic nature. When the first settlers came here they cut the timber down on a spot of ground big enough that the trees wouldn't reach the house. Then they built the house and moved into it. They didn't have to haul any wood for a long time. The wild turkey hens, not being aware of their new neighbors, would stroll up within a few rods of the house with a drove of small turkeys. If you would catch the little turkeys, the hen would go through all kinds of monkey-shines. She showed to be in distress.

"In the settling of Marshall county the prairie chickens were plentiful. They hatched in the marshes ; they were speckled and about the size of a pheasant. I don't think they were as plentiful, though, as the quail around Moses' Israelite camp.

"In the early settling of Marshall county snakes, frogs and mosquitoes were beyond enumeration. People and stock were bitten by the rattlesnakes.

History Uf -Marshall County

There were two kinds of rattlers, a big yellow one and a smaller one - a dirty brown. A man got bitten by one of these reptiles. They sent for an Indian doctor, and when he came he sat and looked at the sufferer and wouldn't do anything. The wife said to the doctor, 'Why don't you do something for him?' The doctor said, 'I want pay.' They soon got the spondulix and then the old Indian went to work. The Indians claimed there was an herb that grew in the woods for every ill that man was heir to. I am inclined to believe the Indians had some botanical instinct. There is no doubt but what the Indians could stop the effect of rattlesnake virus, but how extensive their knowledge was I don't know. Pioneer Ague.

"Ague was prevalent among the early settlers; sometimes half the population would have the ague. It wasn't considered dangerous. When a man took the ague he would have a chill ; when the chill went off he would have a high fever and vomit everything out that was in him. His head would ache like it would burst. This occurred every other day until broken up ; quinine was the best remedy known to break it up, but in some cases it appeared that nothing would do it. I have known men to have it over a year before they could get clear of it. In those days quinine fluctuated ; it was $4 per ounce at one time ; many people were not able to buy it at any price. I think the ditching and driven wells had much to do with the obliteration of the ague.

"There was another kind of ague that was called buck ague. It would come on a man when he was about to get a shot at a buck - a deer, I mean. When a man got it bad he would shake so bad he could hardly hold his gun ; there was never any fever after the chill went oft". In this kind of an ague the man that got it didn't get any venison, as a rule.

"The pioneers, as a rule, made their own shoes. John Gibson, grandfather of ]\Irs. Broda Parks, tanned leather for the pioneers for a number of years. His son-in-law, Stephen Staley, bought the tannery and tanned leather for the pioneers for a number of years. A great many of the pioneers owned looms, and they made some beautiful blue cloth with a wool front and a cotton back. They wove some flannel cloth, took it to South Bend and had it fulled and called it full cloth. I have seen my mother spin sewing thread on a little wheel ; she spun it from flax. I said the pioneers made their own shoes; it has been said that necessity is the mother of invention ; I believe that is what invented so many shoemakers.

"James O. Parks settled on land now owned by Jennie Weaver and Ada Parks in 1836 and cleared several farms. He was elected to the legislature twice. His first opponent was John L. Westervelt, of Plymouth, and his second C. H. Reeve, of Plymouth.

"James Miner settled on the land now owned by Eli Shafer. The first ten acres of land he cleared and fenced he split the rails and carried them on his shoulder and built an eight-rail fence around the ten acres. He didn't own any team. He was a bachelor at that time, but he was not invincible, for Sallie Burnett wooed and won him.

"Andrew Bearinger's house stood on a knoll on the east side of the road from Graham Rose's. He had a son, David, who became enthused with a girl. He had a rival. The girl was pivotal - the one who got there first had an option on her company. One Sunday there was a church in a log schoolhouse. David's rival got around first and got the girl's consent to let him walk home with her. David walked along behind them for a hundred yards or so until he became so jealous that he couldn't stand it any longer. He struck his rival, when they went into a dog fight. Some of the old pioneers not far off hurried to the scene of the fracas and separated them.

"William Elder settled on the land now owned by Ebed Huffer. He was an industrious and an honest man and a fine railsplitter. He wore a knit cap the year round and was so badly tanned that he had a complexion like the red man of the forest. He would occasionally imbibe a little of the extract of corn. He said he didn't like the taste of it, but liked the funny effects it had on him.

"There were three of the Taylor brothers : Joseph, William and George. They were stout men. Joseph started one morning before daylight to help one of his neighbors plant corn. While passing through a woods he was attacked by two wolves. He heard them coming and backed up against a tree and fought them until daylight, when they left him. He was wet with sweat keeping them at bay with an eye hoe, or a 'nigger hoe,' as they were sometimes called. James O. Parks and Solomon Linn went to the woods one day to locate some land. When night came on they had to climb trees and stay there till morning to protect themselves from the wolves. I am inclined to think they got lost and couldn't find the road home."

In one of his articles Mr. Greer incorporates a letter which he had received from one of the early pioneers, commending his efforts in preserving some of the early history of the county that otherwise would have been lost. That part of the letter giving some additional historical information is herewith reproduced as follows :

"My Dear Sir: I have been very much interested in reading your sketches of the early pioneers of the eastern portion of the county, and I want to thank you for the work you have done in preserving much useful and interesting historical matter which otherwise would have been lost to future generations. Your sketches are worthy of preservation, and the next history of the county, whenever it shall be written, will not be complete without at least a portion of them.

"I remember nearly all the pioneers you name, but until I read your articles many of them had been forgotten. I had a little experience in the region of country traversed by you in your sketches that came back to me vividly as I read the names of many who were living there then and still in the prime of early manhood. It was on the day of the August election in 1849 that it happened. The county politically was quite evenly divided between the Whigs and Democrats, and while the Democrats had a little the best of it they did not have a sure thing by any means. There was considerable localinterest as to the outcome, and messengers were sent to the several polling places in the county to get the vote and carry it to the county seat. I was a boy then, and was selected by the Democrats to go to Tip Town and bring back the returns of the election with all possible speed. I was furnished with a horse to ride and an untanned sheepskin in place of a saddle. As you may well remember, the roads were little traveled, and at best were but an elaboration of the Indian trails of those days, the trees being blazed along the route to guide the weary traveler on his way. I passed through Lycurgus, but I do not remember whether your father or you lived there then or not. I think there was a blacksmith shop there, but who 'the village blacksmith' was I do not remember.

"I reached Bourbon some time in the afternoon, and I thought it was the most dreary-looking place I ever saw. There were but a few log houses there then, and they stood in the midst of a wilderness of tall and stately forest trees. I remember one of the houses was built of logs and stood on the corner where is now the Matchette drug store. It was kept, I believe, by Robert Cornwall as a general store of small proportions. The only man I remember now of seeing was James O. Parks. He was the big man of the town at that time and for many years afterwards. I remember he directed me how to find my way to Tip Town. I got through all right, but owing to the 'red tape' method of the election board I did not get the returns until 7 o'clock. I started on the return trip as fast as I could go, but darkness soon came upon me. I lost the main road and was going I did not know where. I could hear the barking of many wolves in the distance in almost every direction, and what to do I did not know. I kept going, however, and finally came in sight of the smoke from a chimney in the woods. I hurried on, and when I reached it I found it was the old Perrin homestead. I told the family that I had missed the road to Plymouth and wished to be directed how I could find it. They told me it would be dangerous to attempt to go any farther in the 'pitch darkness' through the woods, and it did not take a great deal of coaxing to persuade me to put up my horse and stay all night. I did not sleep much that night. The excitement of the day and evening, the strangeness of the surroundings, the yelping of the wolves and the hooting of the night owls, and the thousands of mosquitoes that insisted on presenting their bills made sleep almost impossible. I was up and out by break of day next morning, and after traversing the woods and Indian trails I brought up at the cabin of the elder Elliott, 'The Pilgrim,' as he called himself, some place in the region of Inwood. He made hickory chairs, I believe, and called his place 'Pilgrim's Rest.' He directed me how I could find Plymouth, and I hurried on, arriving there about noon, much to my own relief and to the relief of my parents and friends, who imagined all sorts of calamities had befallen me. Before I arrived home the returns already in showed that the Democratic ticket was elected, and thus ended my first experience in practical politics."

"There was a plant that grew in the thick woods in Marshall county that covered the ground all over and was called ramps ; some people called them leeks. The cows would eat them and the butter couldn't be used. A cow's breath would almost vomit a man if he got a full blast of it. The wild turkeys would eat them and when a man killed a turkey that was rampy it was thrown away. I think the hog was the agent that caused the ramps to become extinct ; I think the ramp belongs to the onion or garhc family; they grew early in the spring and died in June. I believe. Wild onion's grew in Marshall county ; I have gathered them ; they grew up slender and the part that grew in the ground was about the size of a lead pencil.

"The pioneers had no cook stoves ; they cooked in front of the fireplaces in ovens, skillets, pots and on board's, and they baked what they called a John-a-cake on a board in front of the fireplaces ; they had what they called a reflector, made of tin, and one side was open ; it had an inclined top and a grate in it, and they would set a pan of biscuits on the grate, set the reflector in front of the fire and the heat would strike the inclined top and reflect on the biscuits and cause them to bake. They were good, too.

"I have seen my father and two other men blow the chaff out of wheat with a sheet. One man would pour the wheat down in a small stream, the other two would furnish the wind with the sheet. That beat having no biscuits. Years ago there was a porous substance that grew on decayed trees ; it was known as a sweet knot ; it had a fine odor, and could be scented, when the wind was favorable, for a considerable distance. This knot was inhabited by small insects which made the perfume, so it was said by those who claimed to know.

"George H. Thayer settled on the land now owned by Milton Martin. He erected buildings, cleared the land and did blacksmithing. He also preached the gospel and was a talented and good man.

"John Greer settled on land half a mile south. He was a violinist. When I was a small boy I heard him play a piece he called 'Sugar in the Gourd.' I thought it was delightful. It might have been the sugar that made it sound so well. Some of the old pioneers used to keep sugar in a gourd. I suppose that is what the song started from. It went something like this :

"Samuel R. Coons settled on lands that are now owned by Mrs. Vernet. He was somewhat of a politician and wanted to be sheriff, but never got there. J. B. McFarlin was a very sociable man and loved to sing. He compiled the books of the Old and New Testament into song. I have heard him sing it. It sounded pretty well.

"North and northwest of Bourbon John Greer built a house in June. 1836, on the land where the Bourbon schoolhouse now stands. He moved into it in September, and lived there six weeks before a white man came to the territory to live. Solomon Linn settled on land half a mile north of the main corners of Bourbon on the west side of the road. The front is now mostly covered with town. He came here in 1836, erected buildings, cleared a good farm, lived there many years, and there he died."

Xxvhl Farm Machinery And Harvesting

It was only a year or two after the clearing off of the ground, and the first crop of corn had been raised, until the grounds were sown in wheat. There were no drills in those days, and the wheat had to be sown "broadcast." This was done in this way: A bushel and a half or two bushels were put in a sack, and thrown over the shoulder of the "sower." Stakes were set up at certain distances, at each side, on the top of which a white flag was attached. These were generally fifteen or twenty feet apart. The sower threw the sack over his left shoulder, the grain divided equally in the middle, with the front end partially opened so as to admit the right hand. The sower then started on his journey across the field, stepping about three feet at a stride and at every step taking out a handful of grain and sowing it "broadcast" before him. After a little experience, nearly all to whom that part of the farm work was assigned became quite expert, and the wheat came up very evenly all over the field. The ground was generally dragged with a wooden harrow drawn by a yoke of oxen. Sometimes the grain was "brushed" in; that is, the top limbs of small trees were pulled over the ground, which was an excellent substitute where harrows were not obtainable.

After the grain had grown and ripened, the next thing was to harvest it, and this was done in this part of the country, at the time of which we write, almost entirely with what was called a "sickle," an agricultural implement almost entirely unknown to the present generation of farmers. It was a small implement made of steel in a crescent shape, and having a handle fitted to a tang. It had one side of the blade notched so as always to sharpen with a serrated edge so that when inserted into the grain it would be easily cut off, the reaper holding the stocks by the tops with the left hand, and pulling steadily, but firmly, with the right hand.

Harvesting grain in this way was something that had to be learned, and without an exception those who first attempted it were sure to cut the lower part of the left little finger, which always left a scar by which he could ever after prove that he belonged to the great army of reapers. The writer has a "certificate" that he is one of 'em. Half an acre, or three-quarters, at most, was as much as the average reaper could cut and bind in a day. The swath was generally, according to the size of the man, and the reach of his arms, from three and a half to four feet in width.

The operation has been described by a writer as follows : "The first movement was to cast the sickle into the standing grain, compelling it to lean somewhat toward the reaper, and then dexterously throwing forward the left leg, the grain was further led into the desired position ; then by throwing around it the right leg and the left arm and hand, it was in a position to be cut off by the sickle, ten or twelve inches above the ground, and dropped from the left hand of the reaper into piles. On the return, to rest his back, the reaper, carrying the sickle on his shoulder, properly twisted into his suspender so as to hold it there, he bound into sheaves the grain he had cut through the field and started in again. Usually five to ten persons composed these bands of reapers, one man following another, and their gyratory movements at cutting a half acre each per day would be a sight to the driver of the present stately harvesters.

"Previous to 1840 the grain was thrashed, either with the flail or was tramped out with horses. Two men could flail out and winnow about twelve bushels per day, and two men and a boy, with horses, could tramp out and winnow about twenty bushels a day. The winnowing, or separating the grain from the chaf¥, was done by the hand sieve, pouring the mixed chaff and grain from above, two men at the ends of a bed sheet so vibrated it as to make a current of air which blew the chafi" to one side, while the heavier grain fell in a pile at their feet."

The "flails" referred to above were a very awkward implement to handle, and if it so happened that he who used it was himself awkward, he would frequently get a knock on the head that would make him see stars. The handle part was about three and a half feet long, somewhat larger than an ordinary hoe handle. At the upper end a small auger hole was bored, through which a rope or cord was run. The upper part of the flail was a round piece of wood, larger than the handle, about a foot and a half long. An auger hole was bored through one end, and it was securely tied to the handle, leaving the rope a play of two or three inches. The operator raised the flail high above his head and brought it down with all the strength he could command. He kept on beating the heads of the sheaves until the grain was all loosened, when it was cleaned as above stated.

It was probably in the '40s that the "cradle" began to be introduced here. It was a wonderful improvement over the sickle, and the man who owned a cradle and knew how to use it was considered to have a fortune within his grasp. The scythe, up to that time, had been used solely to cut hay, which was cured on the ground and stacked in heaps without binding. In using these scythes, some one caught the idea that a frame with fingers that would hold the stalks of wheat and enable the cutter to lay it down with the heads together in one direction for binding, attached to the ordinary mowing scythe would be just the thing, and so it came to pass that the wheat cradle was invented. It was quite a nack to handle these cradles, and besides it was very laborious work. Usually a man could cut a swath four or five feet wide as rapidly as an expert could bind it in bundles.

It was about this time that wooden wind mills for cleaning wheat, that is, separating the chaff from grain, began to make their appearance, and this was a most valuable improvement over the old primitive method of manipulating a bed quilt or sheet for the purpose of producing wind to drive out the chaff.

It was hard "scratching," you may be sure, the first few years, to get enough wholesome food to live on after the pioneers settled near Maxinkuckee lake. Corn, at first, was the staple product, as its growth was rapid and it could be used from the time it was in the milk stage imtil it ripened, about the time when "the frost was on the 'punkin' an' the fodder's in the shock." As soon as the ears began to "blister" they began to be plucked for use by roasting before the fire, by cutting the corn from the cob and frying and boiling, and cooking in various other ways. When the beans began to mature, a favorite dish was a pot of boiled corn and beans with a piece of fat pork to give the proper flavor. Potatoes and turnips, rutabagas, pumpkins and squashes, peas and onions, beets, cucumbers, lettuce, radishes, and all kinds of garden vegetables among which were all varieties of melons, were planted and grew in abundance, and of the very best quality. The woods, too, were full of a great variety of wild fruits, such as huckleberries, blackberries, raspberries, gooseberries, cranberries, wild cherries, paw paws, black and red haws, crab apples and plums, and other fruits in their season.

And there was also an abundance of all kinds of wild game used for food, such as deer, turkeys, quails, ducks, prairie chickens, wild geese, pheasants, squirrels, and fish by the barrel whenever the big seine was drawn in the lake, so that, although it was quite different from what it is in these days of fancy dishes, the menu was sufficiently palatable and nutritious for all practical purposes.

Buckwheat was a favorite crop, as it matured rapidly and required less labor to produce it than other grains. Hot buckwheat cakes for breakfast, with a plentiful supply of wild honey or maple molasses made a meal fit for a king.

Almost every farm had a sufficient number of maple trees to open a sugar camp. Sugar troughs were made out of small poplar trees chopped out with an ax and adz and placed near the tree which was to be "tapped." "Spiles," as they were called, were made out of the branches of elder bushes. They were made about one foot in length, split in half, lengthwise, after which the pith was removed, thus forming a channel for the water to run into the trough. Holes were bored into the trees, into which the spile was inserted. The trough was placed under the end of the spile through which the water, as it ran from the tree, was carried and emptied. A sugar camp was established at a convenient place on the grounds, a furnace was made of "niggerheads" arranged so that large kettles could be set in and heated from below. Sometimes a pole held in the forks or crotches of stakes at each end would be used to hold up the kettles so that fire could be kept burning underneath. Large wooden barrels or tanks were kept standing near by, into which the sugar water would be emptied as it was drawn in on sleds or carried by hand in wooden buckets as fast as the troughs were filled. LTsually it was made the duty of the women and girls of the family to boil the water down to the molasses or sugar point, while the "old man" and the boys chopped and hauled the wood for fuel, and looked after the taking care of the water. There was a good deal of work about these primitive sugar camps, and it required a good deal of experience to ascertain just where the molasses point ended and the graining, or sugar point began. Frequently when the "stirring off" time came the young people of the neighborhood for miles around would congregate at a favorite camp, have a molasses pulling and make a night of it and the "boys would go home with the girls in the morning." These were joyful times for the young people of those primitive days. Sugar making time was always in the spring of the year when the flowers were just budding into bloom and making the air fragrant with their sweetness; when the woodlands were clothed in their habiliments of living green ; when the bird songsters sang joyously in the rich foliage, and all nature joined in the glad anthem. Really the people were very happy then. They were the children of nature and knew nothing of the annoyances and perplexities of the break-neck world in which we are now living.

Canned fruits were not known in those days. Peaches and apples, after they began to be raised, were cut into pieces, and strung on a thread to dry. All kinds of wild cherries were spread out on a cloth and dried in the sun. When sufficiently cured they were put in a sack and hung up on a, peg handy for use when wanted. Pumpkins and squashes were cut into thin rings, peeled and hung up on a pole to dry.

When deer were killed, the saddles, or the hams, were partially dried, or "jerked," as it was called, as in this way it could be kept longer for use and was more palatable than when salted and preserved in brine. The hides were neatly dressed and trimmed, and tacked up to the gable end of the house to dry.

The common American deer was the only variety found here when this county was first settled by the whites. This graceful animal was the most useful of all the wild game found here at that time. Its flesh was a very palatable and easily digestible article of food, its skin was made into various articles of clothing, and especially for moccasins, both for the Indian and the white man. Its horns were useful for handles for dififerent kinds of cutlery, and its sinews for bow strings and other uses. During the day they usually retired to thickets and swamps, coming out to feed and drnik by night, although they were frequently seen in daylight. In the winter they lived on buds of the wild rose, brambles, and various berries and leaves, and in spring and summer on the tenderest leaves and grasses. Sometimes when the males would meet tremendous battles would ensue, resulting often in the death of one or both of the combatants. In January their horns would drop off, after which they would live peaceably, as if conscious of their weak and defenseless condition. The young were generally bokn in May or June. They were carefully concealed, and were visited by their mother by day only occasionally, as at morning, noon and night. These fawns were easily domesticated, but they were troublesome pets, and were seldom kept any great length of time. The mother was much attached to her young and the imitation of their cry was often practiced by the Indians to bring the mother within reach of their weapons. The young, until about the age of four months, were bright reddish brown, with irregular white spots; after that age the spots disappeared and they resembled the old ones. Preferring to roam at night in search of food, they frequented the banks of lakes and water courses and salt licks, where they were easily destroyed. In walking, the deer carried his head low, the largest animal usually leading the herd, which went in single file. When alarmed it gave two or three high and exceedingly graceful springs, and if he saw any danger, he rushed off with the speed of a race horse, running low with the head in line with the body. They took to water readily, -and could swim with their bodies deeply submerged, and so rapidly that nothing but an Indian canoe could easily overtake them.