Renville County, Minnesota - Chapter 44: Stories of Olden Days, 1916

Experiences of Darwin S. Hall - First Lawsuit in Renville County - Story of Rogues' Island Told by David Benson - Story of Werner Boesch by Nels 0. Berge - Fort Ridgely Drum, by Charles H. Hopkins - Early Politics, by J. M. Bowler - The Naming of Olivia.

It may be of interest to those who came into Renville county at a later day, when roads and bridges had begun to take form and shape, and to the lads and lasses who have been born here, and they don't have to be very young at that, to learn how some of the old trail blazers journeyed into this region, lying then just as it came from the hands of its Maker. Every one of these old settlers, who came here in the sixties, has an interesting number of incidents to relate if they would only disgorge them, and it is unfortunate that their timidity, modesty or that tired feeling prevents them from doing so, hence being about the youngest, of my age, among the number left to tell the tale, 1 present this narrative, even though it is not as thrilling as many another might tell.

In the spring of 1867 my brother Ward and I rented a farm in Hebron township, Nicollet county. I had the previous summer taken up a claim in Birch Cooley, in. this county, and we thought to put in a crop of grain only, which, after sowing, we could come to our land in Birch Cooley, break up some of it and get in shape for a crop the next year, as well as start things for the making of a farm. The spring of 1867 was very late. I paid $2 per bushel for seed wheat. I sowed all carefully by hand, harrowed it with old fashioned V-shaped drags hauled by oxen, which was slow work, and it was the first part of June before we got started for our real home making in Birch Cooley.

I well remember leaving that old Nicollet county farm. My aunt, Mrs. Cordelia Carson, owned and lived on that. farm. Our pulling out for the west was an event and the family were all out to give us boys a cheerful send-off. My brother was twenty and I was twenty-three years of age, both ex-soldiers of the Civil war. Our outfit consisted of two yoke of oxen, a lumber wagon, in which was a breaking plow, our subsistence, consisting of pork, flour. beans, corn meal, etc., with a variety of tools and the few things necessary to keep house with, including bedding and clothing.

In the back end of the wagon box we had a young calf, which the mother cow was very much attached to, so she followed right along after the wagon, giving us no trouble whatever.

Our start was late, that June forenoon, and we went only a few miles toward New Ulm and went into camp near the old Trogdon farm, not far from the old Red Stone ferry. We unhitched our oxen from the wagon, but left the yokes on them, and turned them out to pick up some feed on the prairie. We made coffee. Our appetites were keen, which we satisfied upon the heartiest of food. We spread our blankets under the wagon and both were ready for sleep in no time, but even though in June, the feed was so short on the prairie our oxen, though yoked, roamed a good deal in search of it, so we took turns watching them during the night, and at the first streak of light we hitched up and pulled out to find a place where our stock could get better feed. This we found in abundance in the bottom land along the Minnesota river, above Redstone ferry, opposite New Ulm. We had found good feed lor our cattle, which was all important to our progress and which relieved us a whole lot, but now the rain came down in torents. A settler kindly gave us room in his one-room shack, which he occupied with his wife and three children. Here we were marooned for a week, while the rain hardly let up. The quarters were somewhat cramped at times, and the atmosphere occasionally somewhat fetid, still we had plenty of substantial food, our animals were recuperating on the luxuriant river bottom pasture, and we considered ourselves fortunate that conditions were no worse. But finally the sun did shine. We yoked up our ox teams, hitched them to the wagon, loaded on our provisions and bedding from the settler's cabin, let the mother cow see us load the calf into the hind end of the wagon box so she would be sure to follow, then our small outfit was once more headed for our claim on section 27 in Birch Cooley township. We followed the river bottom land, near the bluffs, opposite New Ulrn, up the Minnesota river for a number of miles, when we pulled up the bluff and out on to the prairie in hopes of finding better roads. In turning up the bluff we somehow made too short a turn and broke the tongue to our wagon. Such an event now would be serious and a wagonmaker would have to be called in. Those days we depended upon ourselves entirely. We found a small tree by the roadside and from it made a new wagon tongue, and being of green timber, it was better now than before - it would bend and not break so easily. We went a few miles on the prairie and camped for the night, unyoked and turned our oxen out to graze while we cooked and ate our evening meal. Quantity rather than quality was important to us those days, and I can never forget how heartily we ate and how good everything tasted. Having finished our repast, we spread our blankets on the ground, under the wagon, for our bed, but fearing our animals might wander, we rounded them up and tied each ox to a wheel of the wagon, after which we rolled into our blankets and were sound asleep in no time. The next morning, before daylight, we had turned our cattle loose to feed while we prepared and ate our breakfast, after which we hitched up and continued our trek, which was to strike the old Brenesholtz farm, east of Fort Ridgely. The wet season had made the country almost impassable. There were no bridges whatever and we were often stuck in the mud and streams, compelled to unhitch our teams from the wagon, move them ahead to dry footing, then hitch on to the end ot the wagon tongue and so pull our wagon across to the solid ground. Thus our progress was very slow and just as the sun was going down it found us about three miles east of the Brenesholtz farm, where we had expected to put up for the night, but without warning we came to the banks of a creek, which evidently had assumed the proportions of some river. It didn't look a bit good to us, but the trail went through it and there was no way around it. No one lived anywhere in sight to tell us, so there was nothing to do but take the plunge, which we did. The stream was sluggish, not much current, but we noticed that our teams, as we drove in, were getting into deep water. Soon they were in so deep that they could get little foothold to pull the wagon, and the wagon stopped. We were stuck again, I got into the water up to my waist, unhooked the teams from the wagon and run them to the opposite bank, but the water was deep so far that our chains would not reach to the end of the wagon tongue. I suggested to my brother that it might be easier for me to go on to Brenesholtz's, get more chain ana possibly some of them to help us. He assented, but admonished me to not delay my return. It was now dark. I had three miles to go. I got there just as they were going to bed. I was some tired. They said wait till morning, invited me to a bed with clean sheets. I fell for it, leaving my poor brother out there herding the stock, with the wagon and all the kit in the middle of the stream, but morning came all too quickly for me. Brenesholtz's folks went with me and we soon had our (nit tit across that run and again moving. My brother Ward seemed some peeved at my long absence; in short, he was hostile; his voice was pitched in a high key and his language, I thought at that time, unnecessarily forcible. 1 knew I had treated him shabbily and meekly took my medicine, We soon arrived at the hospitable Brenesholtz farm, where we were so kindly entertained until the next morning that the troubles of the day before were all forgotten.

A short distance west of the Brenesholtz farm was another creek out of its banks by the late rains and good fording somewhat questionable, so as we started on our way Peter, John and the hired man went with us as far as the stream to see that we got safely across. It sure looked uninviting as we came to the fording place. The distance to the other shore was considerable, but t lie Brenesholtz boys said we could make it. so we plunged in. My brother was on the front end of the wagon driving the teams. I was near the back end watching things. When we were near the middle of the crossing the calf jumped out of the back part of the wagon box into the stream. I knew it would not do to lose that calf, so I jumped in to the rescue. The water, as it left the ford, dashed with a strong current between high banks and swept me off my feet, but I seized the calf around the neck with my left arm and with my right hand got hold of some brush on t he bank as we swept by and made out to hold on until they pulled me out; but I had saved the calf, which we again loaded into the wagon and, thanking our kind hosts, we once more took up our march, much elated because we had saved the calf.

We soon turned off the prairie and went over the bluff into the Minnesota river bottom, as the land is called, some distance from the river in either side between the bluffs which tower up on both sides. Here we found plenty of timber and good feed for our stock. We built up a big fire, after getting our supper, so I had a chance to dry out some before turning into the blankets, but whether wet or dry, externally, made little difference to us those days.

We arose early the next morning, pushed on by Fort Ridgely, and made out to reach Holder Jacobus, who kept a primitive stopping place along the road at that time. The next day we landed on our claims in Birch Cooley, some glad that the trek was at an end.

up from one to five acres for new settlers desirous of holding and making their claims, breaking up a good sized field for ourselves, making hay with a scythe, hand rake and pitchfork, would make another fairly good story.

My brother Ward came from Wisconsin out to our aunt's, the Widow Carson's farm, where I made my home, having taught a country school nearby during the winter, arriving about the first of March. 1S67. He had never been in Minnesota before and wanted to go out and look over the country where I had taken up my land. So one bright March morning we started, on foot, for the upper reaches of the Minnesota river to spy out the country. The first day we arrived at New Ulm and put up for the night at the hotel. We were not much fatigued, but our eyes seemed to hurt some, which we attributed to the March winds, and we felt about all right the next morning, resuming our hike, we arrived at Fort Ridgely, about twenty miles, that afternoon, by that time our eyes felt as though full of particles of sand, quite painful, my brother in a much worse condition than myself, he was at a loss to account for it and thought he was sure cm nigh going blind. There was a company <>i IT. S. infantry then stationed at the Fort, we went to the surgeon or Post doctor, who gave us some kind of an eye wash and told us we were snow blind: that relieved us somewhat, as we had an idea that it would soon pass off, but to us it proved a serious affair. At that time E. T. Tillotson was carrying the mail from the fort to the west end of the county. He improvised a seat on his shaky outfit, and binding up our eyes we took passage. He went the bottom road and carried us as far as the mouth of the Birch Cooley creek, by where Robert Simmons now lives. A track left the road there and followed the bai;ks of the creek, up through the woods, some distance, to Terrence Brazil's log cabin where he lived with his wife and a pretty good sized family. We two boys had something of a time getting to Brazil's, you may be sure, we were practically blind and had to feel our way along that blind trail, which took us the longest time, and our eyes were hurting us mighty bad. Arriving there, old Terrence Brazil and his good wife welcomed us with genuine Irish hospitality, they gave us the best, and about the only bed in the house. They did everything they could think of to relieve the pain we suffered and help us regain our sight. Slippery elm bark poultice and every remedy that any of them could think of was tried out on us, but nothing seemed to do us any good, and for more than a week we were practically blind and in our bed there, suffering much and far more helpless than an ordinary blind person, when one afternoon some mixed-blood Indian trappers came down through that neck of woods, and good old Terrence Brazil, on the lookout for something to cure or relieve us, asked them if they knew of anything to do for snow blindness, or anything to stop the pain, or to do for it in any way. They said it was easy to be cured over night; that our many days of suffering and bother to other people had all been entirely unnecessary. They told him to get some fresh cow-dung, put it in clean cloth and bind it on our eyes at night, and we would be all well in the morning. This was done and the next morning the pain was all gone and we were nearly as well as ever, so well, I know, that we went over to Joseph L. Preston's the next morning. Preston was a bachelor, a Civil war veteran, and had just put up a quite pretentious hewed log house. Here we made our headquarters, not only at this time, but when we came up to break on our land, and at other times as well. Joe Preston was a typical Mainite. He most always had some family in his house who were getting things ready to go on their own claim. John R. Wimer, R. W. Davis. Knauf and many others can remember, if alive, the helping hand of Joseph L. Preston.

And one story makes you think of another: In the fall of 1S66 I was at Fort Ridgely and heard someway that a party living north of the fort, in Mud Lake, now Cairo township, wished to trade a yoke of oxen for a horse. I had a horse which I had been riding most of the summer, looking over the country. I had secured my claim of land and a yoke of oxen would do me a whole lot better than one horse, so I rode over and made the trade with him in short order, the settler giving me the oxen with yoke and log chain, I delivering to him the horse, a good saddle and bridle, with blanket. The oxen were a well broken pair of stags, and were really the best team of oxen I ever owned. Two years later I sold them to Jerry Reagan, who now lives at Morton. Jerry wanted me to throw in a lot of things, the oxen looked so homely. I am inclined to think I did. for I had just been elected county auditor of the county, and thought I was some pumpkins; a heap more than I did later when I had got some of the political experience, and discovered that my salary was paid in county orders, with no money in the county treasury to pay them, but that is another good-sized story, which is almost making me wander, so I must return to my trade with the settler, who told me that the oxen were kind and gentle, that I could jump right on the back of the nigh ox in crossing any of the streams, which were plenty those days of no bridges, so it was not long before we struck a creek of some magnitude; I carefully got onto the back of the big old fel- low, not just sure how he would take it, but he was quiet and all right and I started them through the stream. They went fine and I was well pleased with the way my new purchase performed, when without any warning, like a bolt from the blue, my mount bellowed and lunged in a manner that would do credit to a bucking bronco. The other ox didn't seem to have gone crazy, so he, being yoked to my seemingly war horse, held him some, but the gyrations of my steed was some frightful, and I was in a wondering state of mind. An ox is a mighty awkward animal to ride on, their head is carried so low, and there is no chance to take hold of any mane when it is necessary to grab leather, hence I was some confused and not a little alarmed that this old bovine had been suddenly struck with hydrophobia upon entering the waters of this quiet stream. I, however, wasn't given so very much time to think about it. for all at once the old cuss seemed to have an extra bad spasm and some way improvised a movement, on his part, that threw me high into the air and 1 landed square on my back at the edge of the stream. When I came to I was looking straight up at the blue sky, and my oxen were quietly grazing near by as if nothing had happened. I then began to study this strange action on the part of this mature and gentle old stag. I felt him over and there seemed to be no sore spots. What then could be the matter? I then examined my own short-comings and would see wherein 1 might be the cause, and when, after no little sear, h. I found I was wearing a wicked pair of rowels on the heels of my boots, which I had forgotten to shed with the horse. It was all just as plain as day, and we never did let it occur again.

Another incident might be worth relating. After my brothers and 1 had got our shack up and were getting things started on the land, my youngest brother Charles had come on by this time, we thought good water was an important addition to any well-regulated household. We had been taking water we used from a shallow well close to a slough near by, and why we didn't all have typhoid fever or germ-making disease is doubtless because we were so hardy and tough no microbe could make headway; then it was not the style to be afraid of every kind of animalcule or minute bug. as it is today, so we kept beastly healthy all the time, but a well with pure cold water was something we longed for. and concluded to have, and we boys started to dig a well in about the location we wished to have it. We went down as deep as we could throw the soil out by hand, about ten or twelve feet, then a windlass had to be rigged with a rope and large bucket to haul the dirt to the surface. Those days digging wells was a trade requiring something of an expert. such a man was "Burns, the Well Digger," as he was known by all at that time. He was an old bachelor and had a claim cast of ours a few miles and was a good neighbor. We employed him to come to our place to finish digging our well. He came. He was also a "water witch," one who, by the manipulation or the using of a forked stick, tells the sure place to dig to find a vein of water. He examined and tested the place we had located and begun to dig our well. He told us that no water would be found at that place, but that at a short distance away plenty of water would be found at the depth of twenty-five feet. I had no faith in his forked stick theory and told him to dig where we had started and got down so far. He says "All right, it is fifty cents a foot." He went down fortyfive feet and it seemed to be getting dryer, with the ground ever so much harder as he went deeper. Water was obtained by going down about twenty-five feet in that neighborhood. We didn't want to pull water from so deep a well, so we quit digging and gave up that well. The forked stick would work in my brother Charley's hands, but in the hands of none of the rest except "Well Digger Burns". Burns, with his forked stick, would find a vein of water, under the ground, and follow it across the fields. My brother Charley, who had been blindfolded and out of sight of Burns, would come out and follow the same vein as did Burns, or at least, under the influence of the forked stick go over the same ground previously traveled by Burns, so the next well I let Burns sink it his way, and he got never failing water at a depth of twenty-eight feet.

When the U. S. troops were stationed at Port Ridgely all the water they used was hauled some distance from a spring in a deep coolie east of the fort. A well was dug over one hundred feet deep by the government, and no water. Burns was i he first one to find water. He located a number of wells there with his forked stick at about thirty feet depth, after the soldiers had left, one right on the parade ground and one near the settlers' store. The principle upon which Burns worked with his forked stick I never tried to fathom, neither could I satisfactorily discuss it with him. He always accomplished results, what more could science do? We pause for reply. (By Darwin S. Hall.)

The first lawsuit in Birch Cooley, and without doubt the first lawsuit in Renville county. While the early settlers of Renville county were, as a rule, peaceable and friendly, one with the other, it was only natural that occasional difference of opinions would arise over different subjects, or caused by the advent of "John Barleycorn" upon occasions. But in the spring of 1S6S town meetings were held in the several towns in the county, at which were elected peace officers as well as other officials for the townships, which was important, in that it no longer demanded physical efforts to settle personal controversies as in the years that had passed. But the strong arm of the law was prepared to lay heavy hands upon any and all malefactors.

The early settlers of Birch Cooley township were mostly Irish and American, few of other nationalities were among the first in that township, and no effort will be made to record the semi-occasional combats engaged in by the denizens of this Birch Cooley township, while upon their various visits to New Ulm. Redwood Falls, Beaver Falls or other places where spirituous, vinous or malt liquor was dished out, prior to the establishment of law, by the election of Willard Drury as justice of the peace for the township of Birch Cooley.

The people of this township, in 186S. were not over-burdened with worldly goods. It might be said that their means were about as limited as they well could be, one who possessed a yoke of oxen was some capitalist, and those who had two yoke of oxen (there were no horses), with other stock, swine, poultry, sheep for the winter socks, etc., seemed possessors of great wealth and were few in number. But among this latter number were John Tracy and Terrence Brazil, Sr. Tracy was a quiet and industrious man, said very little, but did a lot of thinking. He brought in some stock and started to open up a farm near the Birch Cooley timber. Brazil had land that ran into the timber near Tracy's. He also had considerable stock, was an active, energetic man with a growing family coming up around him; he was inclined to be some quick tempered, and rather more outspoken than Tracy, but a man with generous impulses and kind at heart.

Tracy and Brazil were neighbors, but they didn't hit it off well. Tracy's stock would roam over Brazil's land and Brazil's stock would break into Tracy's field, and other things, as often happens with near neighbors. The breach widened until finally Brazil had Tracy hailed before Justice Drury on a criminal charge of cutting or mangling Brazil's cattle when they strayed over on Tracy's premises.

The case was tried at Justice Drury'a house, in the north part of the township. E. T. Tillotson, later clerk of court, and a character, was attorney for plaintiff, or state. Brazil the complaining witness. Col. Sam McPhail. of Redwood Falls, another peculiar character if there ever was one, his voice always pitched in a high key, appeared for the defendant, Tracy. A jury trial was demanded and a court officer was sent out into the highways and tall grasses to bring in the men for a jury. Six men were all he could round up for the purpose, and it was decided to go on with the case, so the six men were sworn in as jurors and the case presented by Tillotson. as attorney for the state. Witnesses were sworn ; the attorneys were active in ragging witnesses, almost coming to blows themselves at times. They insisted on telling Drury what evidence to admit, and the court had its hands full keeping order, but kept the rampant lawyers from each other's throats, insisting on preserving the dignity of the court. The attorneys addressed the jury at great length, and finally the case went to the jury, who were directed to retire in charge of a bailiff to deliberate on their verdict, but there was no place to go to. The house was small, hovel for cattle near by unfit, so as a last resort the jury of six men, or boys, were herded into a chicken coop so small that they had to stoop low to get in, and the odor and surroundings were some fierce, but you may be sure that jury was impressed with its responsibility. They fully believed if they said guilty it would send John Tracy to prison, away from his wife and family, and it was a solemn duty for them. They thought maybe Tracy had been a little hasty in firing axes, pitch forks, etc., at Brazil's cattle, even though lie had some cause for wrath, but "guilty," standing out alone by itself, they could not pronounce, so the jury brought in a verdict, pronouncing Tracy guilty and imposing a fine of $40. When this verdict was read there was an explosion in the improvised court room. Col. McPhail, in his high-keyed voice, claimed the court had been insulted by the jury trying to fine the prisoner, thus assuming a prerogative of the court. The court must have had some such idea also from the way he expressed his surprise at the dense ignorance of law manifested by that six-man jury. He ordered them to return from whence they came, the coop, and bring in a verdict of simply guilty or not guilty, and as they were bound not to send John Tracy from his family and away to prison, the verdict was "not guilty."

The Story of Rogues' Island. Rogues' Island, a sightly stretch of land, consisting of about three acres in Preston lake, has borne various local designations, including Eagle Island.

Hon. David Benson, of Renville, tells the story with characteristic humor in a personal letter to the editor, which is well worth producing here. Mr. Benson says:

"Some twenty years ago Hon. D. S. Hall, member of Congress from the Third Congressional District, invited a few of his friends to come out to his Preston Lake farm for a week-end outing and a good time generally. The party consisted of Andrew Bromstad, A. H. Anderson. F. G. Nellermoe, P. O. Dosseth, H. H. Olson,

Hans Tompte and myself. Andrew Bromstad was then editor ot the "Sacred Heart Journal." He is now editor ot a newspaper at Milan, Minn., a Republican stronghold which he has succeeded in turning Democratic, so much so that he has forced the U. S. government to appoint him postmaster. A. H. Anderson was a county commissioner, and, as the saying is, was the "whole thing" up in his "west end" district at that time. F. G. Nellermoe was then, as now. a banker and man of affairs at Buffalo Lake. H. H. Olson was a substantial farmer from Wang township, a typical Norseman, whiskers and all, a jolly good fellow at all times. P. O. Dosseth was one of the best farmers in the Erickson township, a big man physically and every way a dependable man. Hans Tompte was a business man of Sacred Heart, liked a good time, a cheerful loser and all 'round good sport. As for myself. it is difficult to properly classify me. Some might have considered me a politician in those days. But back at that time there was another name that some of them called me which politicians always enjoy. Our county, at that time, had a large foreign born population. Many of them after living here for a time wanted to change their names to something having a more American sound.

"In those days it took an act of the legislature to change one's name. That did not cost anything. Now the district court attends to that matter and the victim must "cough up" two dollars to the change artist. During my several terms in the legislature I succeeded in getting acts passed changing a number of names. Appreciation for this service together with the fact that I was one of the twenty-four wlni voted for Governor O. K. Davis for U. S. senator from Minnesota, caused some of my constituents to look upon me not as a politician but a statesman. Nowdays some of the politicians are spoken of as "Pork Barrel Statesmen."

"Well, Darwin Hall had sent out his call, in those days, "one blast upon his bugle horn were worth a thousand men." We knew him for a liberal entertainer and responded with alacrity.

"Arriving at Preston Lake on this memorial trip of which I am relating, fishing tackle, tents, provisions and refreshments of all kinds, both liquid and solids, were loaded into the boats and we pulled over to the island, a delightful retreat owned by Mr. Hall, where we set up our tents and prepared to settle down for a number of days of care-free relaxation.

"The weather was ideal, one of those beautiful June Saturdays, and we looked forward to a delightful time, nor were we disappointed. Our anticipations were fully realized, and then some. A happy afternoon was put in by various kinds of diversions, visiting, discussing things political and social, the price of farm products, and some fishing. In the evening the great American game was started up in the big tent, much interest and animation was manifested by the various indivduals engaged in the good-natured contest, which lasted well into the small hours.

"At about midnight the suggestion was made that some of the party go out on the lake and catch some fish for breakfast. I being no good at the game and as Nellermoe never "sat in," very naturally the choice fell upon Mr. Nellermoe and myself. Another reason, we were from the northern part of Norway, known as the greatest fish country in the world, born and reared, as it were, with our youthful feet in foam of the sea. So off we started. After spending some time on the lake, the night being exceedingly dark, we decided to return to camp. It must have been about 1 o'clock when we arrived at this conclusion. Soon we reached, as I supposed, the shore, though as a matter of fact there was about four feet of water between the boat and the shore or landing place. Nellermoe had jumped out of the bow of the boat with his long legged rubber boots on. holding the front end of the craft preparatory to landing. I arose in the stern of the boat, thinking that we were already on the beach and expecting to step right out on land. Just then, however, Nellermoe pulled the boat up to the landing witli a sudden jerk. Backwards over the stern of the boat I went, head down, into fifteen or twenty feet of water. I suppose at this time this would be called "sub-marine-ing." When I came to the surface sputtering water from my eyes, nose and mouth, Nellermoe called me, saying, "I have found your hat." The hat, as insisted upon by the rest of the visitors, was my periscope while I was raking the bottom of the lake to get fish for breakfast. At that time I could not see Nellermoe's face in the darkness of the night, but I knew I was getting no sympathy and that he was laughing at me. So I then and there abandoned "sub-marine-ing" for all time to come, though I notice since I gave it up it has been brought to a considerable success.

"After I got myself once more on dry land and emptied out my long rubber boots, I said to Nellermoe: "Don't say anything to that bunch up in the tent. It is bad enough as it is." We had a big log-heap of a camp fire burning up a lot of old timber on the island. It sure looked good to me that night. I got as close to it as I could. I turned myself from side to side, a-baking myself and trying to get warm as best I could, for I was some moist when I had finished that midnight fishing trip. The night was rather chilly and my condition was not what one could call real comfortable, and worst of all I did not seem to get any real first class sympathy from my comrades. This somewhat peeved me for the time being, but the warm sunshine of the next day and some dry clothing got at Darwin Hall's house brought back the cheer and banished the trouble.

"While I was by that fire in that depressed frame of mind before mentioned. I observed quite a commotion going on in the tent. Loud voices were heard in mirthful badinage, a real jollification was being held. I tried to imagine that a band of bloody Sioux or Blackfoot Indians had sneaked over to the island and taken possession while Nellermoe and I were out fishing, so full of resentment and wolfish were my feelings, for lack of sympathy, while I was out by that camp fire trying to absorb a little warmth ; I almost wished the whole gang massacred. Gritting my teeth I listened to the hilarity for a considerable time. Finally 1 took advantage of a slight lull in the apparent celebration. I called to Mr. Hall and asked him. "Wl at is the name of this island of yours?'' "I never knew that it had a name." was his reply. "Well." said I. "it's got a name now. and don't you forget it." "What is it?" asked Mr. Hall. I replied that hereafter this island should bear the name and be designated as Rogue's Island in commemoration of the buccaneers and piratical vikings who landed upon it this beautiful day in June. The "boys" saw the joke and agreed that possibly the name might be all right and appropriate. The next day, most of them being used to big ships and the manner of naming them, concluded they would christen the island after the manner of launching a ship, by breaking a bottle of champagne across her bow. Not having the imported extra-dry. they decided that two bottles of an inferior brand. or different kind of spirituous would do just as well. It may have taken three, 1 am not sure, anyway the island was christened all right, and the name I gave it that day has stuck. Some years afteryards, Sherwood, of Bird Island, issued a map of Renville county, Rogue's Island appeared upon that map. thus, while I gave this beautiful piece of land its name, true and proper. Sherwood did help to put- Rogue's Island on the map."

(Editor's Note. It should be stated here That though Mr. Benson wrote the first draft of this story, it has been considerably revised by other members of that memorable party, and in inserting statements here and there, especially those regarding the state of Mr. Benson's feelings during the proceedings, they have had fully as much enjoyment as they did in participating in that trip of so many years ago.)

Werner Baesch was a native of Germany and settled in about lNr.i' or 1853 on some land three and a half miles northwest from Fort Ridgely, coming at about the time that the fort was built. Afterwards he located on a half section of Indian script land on the west side of the Little Rock creek, now called Three Mile creek. Part of this land was located in section 22 and part in section 23, township 112, range 33, in the town of ('amp. The old government trail or road was laid across this creek and Werner Baesch's land at this point was a fine camping ground, as there was a fine spring of clear and good water there the whole year around. In time this township took its name from this camping ground. All travelers going wrest on the old government road always stopped there to rest. Werner Baesch was a very industrious man. but farming in those days was a rather poor paying business, only enough whereby to make a living.- The only market for produce was at Fort Ridgely. Finally, along in 1856 or 1857, Mr. Baesch started a trading point at his place. He kept a little store of merchandise, groceries, etc.. which was transported by steamboats from St. Paul on the Minnesota river to Port Ridgely. He also kept an oldfashioned stopping place or tavern for the traveling public, and in connection with the tavern, a bar. He built up a very fine ' trade and made considerable money. He had a fine trade with the Indians in furs of all kinds, especially muskrats, mink, coons and fox. This western country was full of such fur-bearing animals at that time. The trade and business went smoothly up till the Indian outbreak in 1S62. Mr. Baesch had a great many friends among the Indians and was warned in time of the outbreak. He took the warning, packed most of his property and moved to New Dim. Later the Indians set tire to all his buildings at the trading post. A log cabin was left, but that building was about a half mile southwest, on his quarter section of land in section 22. He remained in New Ulm and entered the milling business, both flour milling and saw milling. His mill in New Ulm was well and favorably known all over this western country. In 1868 this concern consisted of Baesch, Pheninger and Deanke. under the name of Eagle Mill Co. In May, 186S. he sold his half section farm at Little Rock Creek, 160 acres to N. O. Berge and 160 acres to Sylvester Olson. Mr. Baesch was a gentleman of the clearest type, accommodating and helping many of the early settlers along in financial and many other ways, especially during the four years of the grasshopper plague. He was married and had one daughter, now Mrs. Mathews, last heard of in Marshall. Minn. Mrs. Baesch died in New TJlm, Minn., in the latter part of the eighties, and Mr. Baesch in the middle part of the nineties. (By Nels O. Berge.)

Fort Ridgely Drum Corps. Miles P. Clark and his two sons. Howard and William, composed the original Fort Ridgely Drum Corps. They furnished the martial music for the government service, and remained near the fort after the fort was discontinued. In 1S70 Chas. H. Hopkins was taken into the organization and their first exploit after lie joined was to play iit tlio Fourth of July celebration held that year at Beaver Falls, then the county seat ol Renville county.

1 will mention in passing, that in those days there was a jealous strife between the citizens of Beaver Falls and the citizens of Redwood Falls, the county seat of Redwood county, only about six miles apart on opposite sides of the .Minnesota river. On account of there being so much speculators' land lying south and east of Redwood Falls, everything favored the further success of Beaver Falls. The population being about even the circumstances were such that when either village celebrated the other could not.

The Drum Corps left Fort Ridgely at 4 o'clock in the morning with a four-horse team and band wagon, all trimmed and di corated for the occasion, and arrived at the top of the hill overlooking the village at 'J a. m.. after driving 20 miles.

Even at this early hour the village was well filled by farmers and their families. and when we marched down the hill leading into the village that morning to the tunes of Yankee Doodle, Dixie and St. Patrick's Day in the Morning, one could not believe otherwise than that the Fort Ridgely Drum Corps was the only martial band in the world, and that Beaver Falls was the most important place in the United States.

On the return of the Drum Corps to Fori Ridgely after the day's celebration, we lost our way. Some time in the night, after traveling many miles not knowing where we were going, we were brought up short by a. woman's screams, who, rushing out of her dugout, commanded us in broken English to get off of her house. Then It was found our head team had stopped on the sod roof of her house. After we got straightened around she informed us we were several miles north of the Fort Ridgely road.

We then started south, and after reaching the right road continued, arriving at Fort Ridgely at the break of day, and in time to play "We won't go Home till Morning" to a goodly number of settlers that had been celebrating the Fourth by having a dance in the old soldiers' garrison that was then in good condition.

Years after Miles P. Clark (Drum Major) and his boys moved to Duluth; and Chas. H. Hopkins and his two sons. Hayward and Frank, and Harvey Stevens, a son of Seymour Stevens, an old soldier, and Jerry P. Patten of the 6th Minnesota In, fantry, with George Buschers as drum major, composed the organization for many years. It may appear as it is now constituted, something like the old Revolutionary musket that one of the descendants prided himself on owning. Upon being asked about the different parts of the musket that looked as though they were of a later date he admitted that parts had been replaced until there was no part ol the original musket left, in the same manner the name of the Fort Ridgely Drum Corps lias been preserved, though none of the three original members now belong to it. Possibly this is in keeping with the present conditions pertaining to Fort Ridgely, for nothing but a part of a stone building is left to remind one of the fort of olden days, though we still have the historical data, the splendid monuments, tin ceme tery. the beautiful scenery and the state park. And if in the future the reader de sires to stand on historic ground and enjoy the most magnificent scenery in the whole Northwest, he should make a pilgrimage to the old historic site of Fort Ridgely, where he may once more hear the music of the Old Fort Ridgely Drum Corps. (By Charles H. Hopkins.)

Renville County Politics. Political life when I settled in Renville county was a one-sided affair. There were about four Republican voters to one Democrat. Several of the most populous towns were settled by people of Norwegian or Swedish birth or extraction who uniformly voted i he Republican ticket. The town of Hawk creek hadn't a Democrat in it. Wang had only one Democrat and some others were nearly as bad off. The county contained but one newspaper and that was Republican. There was some kicking against the Norsks and Swedes monopolizing the offices, and threats to combine against them were heard, but nothing came of it as the officials were mostly popular and generally well qualified for their positions.

There is a tradition that one H. E. Wadsworth, a Democrat, broke into the legislature of 1S72 and George H. Megquier, Democrat, turned a like trick on county attorney; both, however, for only one term. The grand jury took no notice of it, however.

In 1876, my fellow Democrats thought I needed exercise, so they nominated me for representative. Hans Gronnerud kindly gave me a list of influential farmers in the western part of the county and 1 struck out with horse and buggy to interview them in my own behalf. At Hawk Creek I ran up against a big schoolhouse midday meeting which was being addressed by Hon. J. W. Arctander and Hon. A, E. Rice, of Willmar. There was not a Democrat irf the crowd. I walked in and took a seat by the middle aisle. Arctander was showing why Major Strait should go to congress and Sammy Tilden to a much worse place. He was in the act of telling a story of a certain young unmarried woman who was a candidate for membership in the church, but who was strenuously objected to by some of the brethren. The rest of the story might not look well in print, so I omit it. He took me for the Lutheran minister of the neighborhood and was somewhat nonplussed, but went on and finished the story. During a recess I was introduced to the speakers and many of the farmers. Rice and Arctander very generously gave me an opportunity to address the meeting and invited me to go along down to Sacred Heart where they held a rousing meeting that night and gave me a chance to speak there. It was one of the amenities of politics, not any too often met with. They lost nothing by it and I gained a favorable introduction which was helpful to me in after years. Their courtesy convinced me that they were broadminded men. a fact which long years of intimate acquaintance have confirmed.

The next year I was nominated again. I was too busy on the farm to make a campaign. I made a brief speech at Beaver Falls and paid D. J. Deasy's expenses for distributing my tickets through the western towns. About two weeks after election my hired man. returning home from Beaver Falls with a load of wood, brought the news of my election. To this day I do not know who was responsible for it. but have always believed that I owe a debt of gratitude to some influential, generous friends, which it is now too late to discharge.

In 1S7S Edmund O'Hara, Democrat, was elected to the House and I was defeated for the Senate. I never ran for office again in Renville county except as candidate for Representative in Congress in 1S94 and as candidate for Lieutenant-Governor in 1S96 and 1S9S. The county seat removal question was up until it was settled in 1S99. It was the field against Bird Island which rendered it politic for her close friends to refrain from seeking office at the hands of the county. The old timers at Beaver Falls, being at the county seat, had the advantage of wide acquaintance, were most always able to dictate nominations and still more surely to decide the elections.

1 may state here that we had one Democrat in the person of P. H. Kirwan, of Beaver Falls, a very likable and popular man, who held the office of County Auditor for twelve successive years. Another Democrat, Billy McGowan, was Clerk of Courts for several terms and ought to have been continued in office indefinitely.

But the Farmers' Alliance wave acquired momentum in Inns, and in 1890, by fusing with the Democrats, elected Ferdinand Borchert. of Bird Island, to the Senate, and Henry A. Peterson, of Renville, to the House. Borchert and Peterson asked me to manage their campaign. I advised Borchert to go out with his horse and buggy and camp with the voters and see as many of them as he could, right up to election day, not to contend with them but to leave them feeling better when he left than when he came. He followed my advice and besides held some schoolhouse meetings. He came back with the statement that he believed the democratic endorsement was doing him more hurt than good. He was cautioned to bottle that

Peterson was assigned to certain parts of the county where he had the best prospect of getting votes. He came back to me twice with his head filled with fictions of our opponents, that I was not true to him, had sold him out, etc. I set him light and sent him back with the assurance that, if he listened to his opponents, it meant sure defeat for him. He went to one of my bitterest political opponents to find out whether the stories he had heard about me could be true and was told that he could rely upon my word as to that. That was one of the few things I ever got out of politics to be grateful for.

Meantime, I stirred our friends up by interviews and correspondence and felt amply rewarded by the success of the candidates for whom I had put in my best licks.

The Farmers' Alliance movement was confined to farmers. It made rapid progress in all parts of the country, more especially in the South and West. It developed into the People's party open to all voters without regard to their calling. It soon bade fair to become one of the two leading parties in the country. In 1S92 it cast more than one million votes for Gen. J. B. Weaver for president. In 1S94 it took the lead in Renville county and elected James Hanna to the Senate and O. L. Brevig to the House.

But in 1S96 the Bryan wave practically absorbed the People's party and it gradually disappeared. However, it injected the spirit of progress into both the old parties which manifested itself later in both state and national legislation. (By J. M. Bowler.)

Naming of Olivia. Olivia, the present county seat town, was not much in evidence, along the Milwaukee railroad, when Hector, Bird Island, Renville and Sacred Heart had been placed on the map in fairly good shape. Some one of the railroad folks was bright enough to see that the plot of ground where Olivia now stands was so near the very center of the county that eventually, when railroads had all cut off Beaver Falls, the then county seat, it would be just about the place to locate that important county governing town.

At the time Olivia was located as a townsite, named and put upon the map, Albert Bowman Rogers was chief engineer of the Hastings and Dakota, as that division of the Milwaukee road was then called. Albert was a brother of L. Z. Rogers, a prominent man of Waterville, this state. at that time. Albert B. Rogers made his home with his brother at Waterville, much of the time. He was the whole thing about that road in early days; he had the say where towns and stations should be located and he had the naming of them; he was a celebrated civil engineer; he was chief in the building of the Iowa and Min- nesota division of the Milwaukee road into the cities, was with the M. & St. L., going from there to the Canadian Pacific, where he made his reputation as a civil engineer in building that road through to Selkirk and the Canadian Rocky Mountains. His last work was with J. J. Hill and the Great Northern. He died in May, 1889, at the home of his brother in Waterville.

friend of Chief Engineer Rogers, and it was for her he named Olivia, and it was thus that the county seat town of Renville county happened to be christened with such a beautiful name.

Judge L. L. Baxter, late of Fergus Falls, was at that time attorney for the Hastings & Dakota railroad, and both he and Mr. Rogers have more than once told Darwin S. Hall all about the naming of Olivia. All of the other parties are dead, but Mr. Hall still lives in Olivia to authenticate this historical item.