Goodhue County, Minnesota - Chapter 3, 1893

There appears to be no limit to hiiraan progress. Its onward march is often retarded, however, by those who, having obtained positions of power and influence, begin to flatter themselves that they are the people and wisdom will surely die with them. A life of ease and luxury opposes real progress. It is a life of toil, the meeting of disappointments and trials, which makes for higher and better things.

In recurring to the events of former days we enjoy the contrast between those days and the present time. To those who saw the laud now comprising this county, forty years ago, and can look upon it today, the contrast must be indeed gratifying. The changes that have been wrought, and improvements made, are simply wonderful. A waste, howling wilderness has become a fruitful field. The desert has been made to bud and blossom. A country which had been roamed over for centuries by wild beasts and a few savage men, has become dotted over with towns and villages, wherein are the homes of thousands of intelligent inhabitants, engaged in trade and the manufacturing of articles of commerce. The puffing of steam engines, the hum of machinery, the voices of children playing in the streets on their way to the school-houses, and the church-going bells, are heard on every side. Besides all these, and ot* still greater iinjiortiuce, is the progress of imi)rovement to be seeu on all the broad stretches of laud sarroauding the villiges; the valleys and plains covered with neatly cultivated fields of growing crops, and green pastures wherein cattle, slieep and horses are grazing; the beautiful farm houses, tlie large and convenient barns, surrounded by shade trees and shrubs bearing fruits and flowers, and also, at pro[)er intervals, the country churches and district school-houses.

It is evident that such a change has not been brought about by magic, nor by any evolution of nature; but chiefly by earnest, honest labor. Through patient toil and the endurance of privation and snlTei-ing on the part of somebody, has this change come.

The history of a county should contain the personal experiences of some o'- its pioneers, and we shall devote a few cliapters to such experiences as I have been able to gather, knowing that many others might be given which would be equally interesting liad we the means of obtaining them. But many of our pioneers have passed away from this world. We can relate tin; personal experiences of only a few.

The diffijulties of going from one point to another in a country where there are neither roads nor bridges, hotels nor farm houses, are among the most formidable that first settlers have to encounter. I started, in September 1841), alt)ne on horse-back, to go from lied Wing's village to another Indian village on the Minnesota river, to attend the annual meeting of the Dakota mission. I was to follow the Mississippi river up to the mouth of the Minne.sota river, and then the latter stream some eighty miles to my place of destination, which was near the phice now called St. Peter. The first day I expected to reach Kaposia, which was an Indian village a little below St. Paul. Dr. T. S. Williauidou was the missionary stationed there, and from that point I was to have his company the remainder of the journey. There were no human habitations between Ked Wing and Kaposia at that time.

Tlie morning was warm and sultry on the day I set out. 1 was directed to follow "the trail." After fording Hay creek I was convinced that my horse had not been accustomed to follow an Indian trail. The marshy ground on tlie sides of the creek was rather soft for his weight. The grass had grown so tall that season as to hide the trail entirely in many places, and I found it the only safe way to lead my horse over the marshy ground. At the crossing of the Cannon river the same diliiculty occurred. The tall grass there reached above my shoulders while I sat on my horse. Where I crossed tliat stream it was so deep for a short distance that the water took in the horse except his head and a part of his neck.

After reaching the high prairie between the Cannon and Vermillion rivers, and then crossing the latter without trouble, I could see a long stretch of prairie before me, and knowing there were no more rivers to cross that day I began to feel that I should reach Kaposia in due time. Occasionally I could see plainly a mark where the Indian ponies had traveled, and tried to keep the same direction. But the sun was sliaded with clouds and a storm came on at about four o'clock. The thunder rolled and the lightning Hashed. Soon the rain fell in torrents and I could no longer see the trail. The prairie grass covered it. There was a grove apparently at some distance on the left, and I made towards it. The distance was greater than I expected, but I finally reached, not a grove, but a few oak trees scattered widely apart, affording no shelter from the wind and rain. I rode on. Shower followed shower; night came on and still it rained. Finally I reached a grove where the trees stood near together and were filled in by underbrush. It was now so dark that it was impossible to go further with safety. I stood there under the forest through several tli under showers holding my horse by the bridle waiting for the morning. The ground was too wet to think of lying down and 1 leaned my back against a tree and got some sleep. Morning dawned at last and the clouds had dispersed. My horse was still near me, biting the herbage. Eeconnoitering the ground, I found a path, and by a streak of light, which showed where the sun was going to rise, I knew the points of compass. Following the path in a northwesterly direction about a mile, I should judge, 1 came to the village of Mendota, at that time a trading post for the American Fur Company. There I was shown a trail that led to Kaposia, some five or six miles below on the Mississippi river. I took that trail and soon after arrived at the Kaposia mission. Both horse and rider were weary, wet and hungry; and thanks to missionary hospitality our wants were supplied. For the remainder of the trip I had the company of those who knew the way, and had experience in the methods of traveling. Many strange incidents occurred to me during that journey, but the trials of that first day were the most severe. It was the occasion of the annual meeting of the Dakota mission. Once a year all the wissionaries to that tribe vyei-e accustomed to meet for two or three days and consult together at one of the stations. At this meeting at Traverse des Sioux I first made acquaintance witli the older uiissionaries and learnetl much of their methods of procedure.

I learned afterward that oxen were more safe and reliable for traveling througli the country than horses. The Red river trade was then carried on between the United States and Canatla chiefly by means of oxen. For transportation they used two-Avheeled carts, each drawn by one ox.

In the spring of 1852 I started for Lac qui Parle, the mission station among the Dakotas farthest distant from Red Wing. A young man who was engaged to go there to assist the missionaries accompanied me. Having some baggage, consisting of a small cloth tent and a fevv^ blankets for the night rests, some carpenter's tools, provisions for ten days, and the mail for the mission families at Lac qui Parle, which had been accumulating at Fort Snelling all winter, we loaded all into an ox cart and traveled in Red river style. We were nine days going fro:n Traverse des Sioux to our destination, and no sign of civilization did we meet on the way. There were plenty of sloughs to cross, streams to ford and rainy days and nights to endure. Sometimes we were mired down in a mp.rsli. But our ox was patient. He could rest awhile aiul then use his strength again. Often did we lift at the wheels to help release them from the mud. The rains and melting snow had raised all the streams to full banks and swimming was the last resort in order to cross some of them which in ordinary times could easily have been forded. We came at last to Avhat was then called the Chippeway river. This was gkirted with timber and the water was llowiug over the timbered bottom. We could not tell where the regular chaiiuel was. It seemed to be at least three-fourths of a mile across that valley covered by a swift rushing stream. We considered ways and means. Finding a tree in such a position as to be obtained we cut it down and constructed a small raft with sections of the trunk fastened side by side and branches spread on the top. But this raft would only carry one of us at a time; it was now near night and after crossing this stream, it would be five miles to the mission and our provisions were exhausted or nearly so. My companion agreed to stay there with the ox and cart until another day, while I should go over on our raft and walk to the station where we could get help. I took the satchel which contained the mail with me and placed it upon some brush near the middle of the raft, and with a pole in my hands, standing close behind the satchel, I commenced the perilous A^oyage. Had some hard hits against standing trees for a time, and when I reached the real bed of the river my frail vessel was carried down stream with a rush. I could only use my pole like an oar, and I went down much faster than across, till I came to a fallen tree, the top of which was partly out of water. I tried to steer the raft around it but the current sucked me under and I was struck ofif into the stream, while my raft swung around under the tree top. I caught hold of the satchel and followed the raft by clinging to the upper branches and before it had become disentangled from the tree top I was on board again. I had evidently now crossed the main channel and by clinging to passing trees I made the opposite shore. Walking along up the streom till I found the track, I pursued my way through a storm of sleet, five miles, to the mis- sion, arriving sometime after dark. The next day, by means of a boat belonging at the station, my companion in travel was relieved. I remained at Lac qui Parle more than a week, hoping the waters would assuage, which was the case to some extent.

On returning we had a yoke of oxen attached to a lumber wagon, for our means of conveyance as far as Traverse des Sioux. Mission supplies were sent up to that point in boats; and to convey a load of such supplies to the mission it was necessary for this team to go down at that season, which was in the early part of May. I was entrusted with management of the team and, as I had only a light load, expected to enjoy the trip. The distance, as then traveled, between the two stations was a little over one hundred mdes. No human habitation, not even an Indian hut to be seen all that distance. The streams were forded on this occasion without difficulty. Although the water would sometimes reach the backs of the oxen and leak into the wagon box, there was a solid bed for our team to walk on. Not so accommodating were many of the marshes or sloughs. When once you broke through the turf you went down, at least as far as legs would reach. There seemed to be no bottom. On coming to the edge of a slough it was necessary to halt and reconnoitre. It was never safe to follow any former track; there the turf would be already broken. If there could be no way found to get around we ventured in and tried to keep the team up on an untrod way. But just at that season, before the new grass had started the olil turf was very tender and very frequently our team went down, so as to be obliged to wallow, until the wagon, (narrow-rimmed wheels) would sink to the bubs, when the oxen would become discouraged and the whole concern would cease to move. The next thing to do was to "rope out." A strong rope sixty or seventy feet long, was an indespensible article to carry coiled up in one corner of the wagon bos. Thanks to the more experienced, we were provided with one. "Unloose the team from the wagon and drive them ahead to a piece of firm ground; fasten the rope to the end of the tongue and the other end to the ring of the ox-yoke. Now you can perhaps draw your load out of the mud." This was called roping out, a process Avhicli I had become pretty well accustomed to at the end of this jourufy. Once we were so completely fast that I had to unyoke the team and let each ox got out l)y himself. Tlien I yoked them, but before I could get them to draw the Avagon out I was obliged to unload and carry the loading to a dry place on my shoulders. I took the wagon box ofP and the team drew it out first. Then uncoupled the wheels and by the strength of the oxen, drew each pair out separately.

It took time and patience to travel in those days. If I remember rightly we were eleven days performing that trip. Sleeping under our wagon for ten nights in succession. I could never since consider camping out much of a pleasure. Traveling by canoes and steamboats in those days was a more comfortable mode than by land. We could oidy avail ourselves of the last-named craft when we wisheil to go to the head of navigation on the Mississippi.

For two years and a half our nearest post-office was Point Douglas, twenty-live miles by river from Red Wing. After learning how to manage a log canoe, I couhl go that distance in one with ])leasure.

tioii with the Indian traders, used a large boat, carrying several tons, for transporting their goods and supplies from Fort Snelling to their several stations during the summer. In September, 1851, I had the pleasure of a trip on the boat, named Winona, on its return from Traverse des Sioux to the fort.v

It had been raining for a week or more and early in the morning of the day fixed upon for starting the rain was still pattering upontheroof of the mission house. By eight o'clock the storm ceased and the clouds began to disperse. Preparations were immediately made for embarkation. By nine o'clock our party were all snugly packed on board the Winona, a barge of eight tons burden. The party consisted of twenty-four persons; nineteen were missionaries and their children. Some were returning to their several stations at Shakopee, Oak Grove, Kaposia and Red Wing, after having attended the annual meeting. To complete the number there were two Frenchmen, employes of the traders and three Dakotas. For freight we had three horses, sixteen packs of furs and a considerable quantity of baggage belonging to one of the mission families who were on their way to visit friends in Ohio. When all were ready, farewells were exchanged with those left behind and our little vessel moved out upon the bosom of the charming river. It seemed to me that nothing on earth could have exceeded the variety and beauty of the scenery, by which we were surrounded as we glided down the "sky colored water." The dark rain clouds had disap{)eared and the golden-edged fleeces which appeared in their stead were moving in majesty, adorning the great archway with the richest drapery, while sheltering the traveler from the too constant heat of the sun. In conse- quence of the great rain, the banks of the river were full and in many places overflowing. No ghastly forms of uprooted trees, no shelves of dropping mud, nor bars of yellow sand were visible. Every object that could be thought disagreeable was covered by the flowing waters. We sailed on, in our winding course, through banks of living green. The willows which skirted the stream in abundance, bending under the force of the current, seemed to be bowing their heads and kissing the water, like things of intelligence expressing their gratitude for favors received. Our course for that day was bounded for many miles by dense forests; occasionally, however, we were gieeted by an opening meadow covered with tall wild grass. We had a view of nature unalloyed by the hand of art. Night came on at last and it was not considered safe to continue our journey in the dark. Our barge was directed to the shore and made fast to a stately elm. After evening prayers our cheerful company spread their blankets, some on the grassy bank, some on board the boat and laid themselves down to rest. A little past midnight our rest was disturbed. The moon had appeared above the horizon in all its brightness. The land-sleepers were aroused and summoned on board, the line was hauled in and the boat began again to move down the bold current. Before sunrise we were in sight of what was then called "Prairieville Station," the village of the chief called Little Six, now Shakopee. On arriving near the mission house our boat was again tied to a tree and all accompanied Rev. Mr. Pond to his house Avhere we partook of a warm breakfast, seated at a table once more. After tarrying at that place some two hours, having parted with some of our company, we re-embarked and wended oar way down the river. The day was fine and the views most enchanting. We had left the big woods and the country was a rolling prairie, but no human habitation nor caltivated fields were to be seen, until we came to "Oak Grove Station," or Black Dog's village. Here we halted and left Rev. G. H. Pond, the missionary at that station. At about three o'clock in the afternoon we came to Mendota, the meeting of the waters of Minnesota and the Mississippi. When Fort Snelling was descried in the distance those missionary children began to dance for joy. Having been born in an Indian village, they had only seen pictures of really civilized habitations before. Who can describe the feelings of those children on that occasion? Oar bark was soon moored under the battlements of the fort and we pursued our way homeward by other methods of conveyance.