Rock County, Wisconsin - Chapter with an unread heading (no. 3 of those read), 1908 (part 5 of 11)

Memorial Day was first made a legal holiday in 1879. May 24 of that year was organized the Veteran's Club of Beloit; O. C. Johnson, colonel; Valee, lieutenant colonel; Hoyt, major; Northrop, adjutant; M. Egan, paymaster, and C, H. Bullock, sergeant major. Our first prominent celebration of Memorial Day also occurred that year. The president of the day was Colonel I. "W. Pettibone, marshal; 0. C. Johnson, with Captain Hoyt and W. H. Wheeler as aids. In front was the city band, led by Z. T. Hulett. In the column were the Beloit City Guards, under Captain McLenegan, and the new Veteran Club of eightytwo members, under command of Captain Valee, who wore his old battery uniform. The army organizations represented were the First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Seventh, Eleventh, Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, Twentieth, Twentythird and Twenty-fourth Army Corps, the Custer cavalry division, First and Second Wisconsin Cavalrv, the Fourth Wisconsin Bat-

The regiments represented were the Fifth, Seventh, Thirteenth, Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, Twenty-second, Thirty-fifth, Fortieth and Forty-second Wisconsin Infantry ; also the Fifteenth, Twenty-third (Mulligan Guards), Forty-seventh and Ninetieth Illinois Infantry ; the Twentieth Indiana Infantry ; the Seventh and Thirtieth New York Infantry; the Eighth Ohio Infantry; Tenth Connecticut Infantry, and also Company F of United States Veteran Volunteers. These last carried a flag with crape on the staff and w^ore crape on the left arm. Following them was a martial band, in charge of Mr. Irish, and the fire department under Chief Engineer John Hawkins, the firemen wearing new uniforms. Three large wagons full of school girls, as decorators, were followed by a long procession of school boys marching, the route beginning at the high school building. Then came a procession of carriages containing the speakers, Paul Broder for the Roman Catholic cemetery. Rev. George Bushnell for the city cemetery. Rev. H. P. Higley and Prof. Joseph Emerson, and scores of friends. When the procession passed Memorial Hall about forty college students fell into line and marched behind the firemen. The decorators were in charge of Mrs. Cham Ingersol, Mrs. Colonel Johnson and Mrs. Colonel Crane. Esquire Broder fitly began his address, on "Mutual Forgiveness," with the quotation :

One paragraph was this: "The soldiers, by whose graves we stand, had little anger in their hearts. I have been told that, in the midst of battle, Federal and Confederate soldiers have been known to pause for awhile, by mutual consent lay down their arms, drink at the same brook out of the same cup, exchange tobacco and coffee and for a time forget the deadly work in which but a few moments before they had been engaged. Can it be that we, after fourteen long years of peace, have failed to acquire the same magnanimity which they, in the short breathing times of battle, were wont to display? The experience of all life teaches us no worthier lesson than the wisdom of forgive- ness." After Dr. Buslmell's remarks to the effect that the rebellion had made American free institutions permanent, the procession marched back to Memorial Hall, where a platform had been erected on the east side of the building. Colonel Pettibone presided, Rev. Prof. William Porter (who is still with us) offered prayer and Rev. Henry P. Higley gave an address on our (then) thirty graves (now we have 201), for each of which, he remarked, might be said as was written of the Swiss patriot, Arnold Winkelreid :

"We belie the day if we say that these men did well to die for their country and then ourselves refuse to live for her and at our very best." The memorial marble tablets in Memorial Hall were then decorated and a noble oration for those honored dead was given by Prof. Emerson. A memorial poem, written several years before by Comrade Rev. T. D. Christie, was read, and the exercises were closed with patriotic airs by the band.

The city government in 1872 was vested in a mayor, eight aldermen, city clerk, city attorney, treasurer, city marshal and city surveyor. The mayor and common council served without pay. The mayor was then Samuel J. Goodwin ; the city clerk, C. F. G. Collins; the city attorney, S. J. Todd; the city marshal, Parsons Johnson. Each received a salary of $100 a year. The entire police force was embodied in the city marshal, save two night watchmen, one for each side of the river. The total expense of running the city government did not then exceed $3,000. The population was about 4,600. There were two volunteer fire departments, Nos. 1 and 2. Two hand engines and water supply, a stone 's throw from the river, provided in wells and cisterns, with license to utilize like private reservoirs when occasion demanded. There were no paved streets. There were no waterworks; "Charlie" Salmon was then barely a "prospect."

zens with others whom they led paid the penalty of combining wells and water closets for generations. There were no sewers, but a multiplicity of cesspools which conspired with closet vaults to contaminate the water. As a sanitary measure, then, to prevent a repetition of this and kindred epidemics, as well as to afford fire protection and encourage the introduction of manufacturing interests, a waterworks system was planned and built, and, finally coming into the hands of Mr. Salmon, was commendably perpetuated. In 1872 there were no bathrooms, only in isolated cases, and these were conundrums. They were heated by friction - that is, the water - and the water was pumped by hand suction. There were no plumbers - nothing to plumb. No joints to wipe - no tears to shed over a plumber's bill. There were but two livery barns - Drury's, opposite the John Foster shoe factory, and Sam Allen's, where the Allen block now stands on East Grand avenue. The two stables were each equipped with two hacks. One of them kept a goat. The goat, for prudential reasons, when the weather was cold, slept in a hack. A stranger once attending a funeral here, and riding in the "goat hack," immediately behind the hearse, sensing the odor, suggested that the undertaker had been careless in his work, and that the corpse ought to have kept.

There were no electric lights. It was four years later than this, at the centennial in Philadelphia, in '76, that specimens of such lights were on exhibition as a possibility. In thirty-two years that "possibility" has lighted the world. Through the enterprise of W. A. Knapp, then a citizen of Beloit, and Wiley & Warner, still with us, Beloit was pushed into this "limelight" and two electric plants were installed.

In 1872 Joseph Hendley & Sons were responsible for all the gas light, and a few streets and part of the homes were lighted by their torch. Kerosene oil, with its odor, and candles galore, were the chief agencies then for perpetuating the day. There were no telephones. The "halloo" girls had not been born. The world was waiting for them. Some time after, their star was seen in the east, and while they were yet in swaddling clothes and in waiting the telephone became a fact in Beloit. George H. Anderson, still a resident 'of Beloit, and Bennie Oliver (our Bennie) were the first to take their lives in their hands and admit that each in turn respectively was the "central." Anderson was the American Express agent at the time, and the city clerk, and yet, in connection with this, he had time to handle all the business of the patrons of the telephone, with time to spare. Bennie was the lineman, the electrician, the "information girl," the collector and the solicitor, as well as the court of appeals in final settlement of disagreement.

There were no hardwood floors - hence no Mesheds or Kirmanshas. The sidewalks then were all of plank - the soft side up - and not a corn doctor within twenty miles of the city. Beloit college was still mainly a "prayer." The writer was a promising product of the college. President Chapin was then at the head of the college as its president, and associated with him were some of those grand old men - Emerson and Blaisdell and Bushnell and Porter - who laid the foundation upon which the present superstructure has been reared, and through whose unselfish labors both sides of the world have been made better. There were then but two ward schools, Nos. 1 and 2, on the east and west sides, and with them a congested high school. The kindergarten was looked upon as a heresy and its introduction finally contested as strenuously as was the street car proposition.

In 1872 Beloit had no factories, as compared with her status now along these lines. She ran to paper mills. They utilized twothirds of the water power and gave back nothing. The help they employed were ragpickers and unskilled labor, and not enough of the latter to furnish recruits for the Salvation Army. They utilized the farmers' straw and impoverished the farmers' land. Aside from the paper mills, John Thompson, 0. E. Merrill & Co., the Eclipse Windmill Company, Charles Hansen and the John Foster shoe factory were doing business on a prospective basis, and, all told, didn 't feed one-half the men which one of our up-todate institutions does today. There were three grist mills - the Blodgett mill, the Brooks mill, and the Old Red mill just west of the Keeler lumber office. The mill-race from the Turtle to the river was an open question along the south side of the city, and duck raising was a lucrative business.

There was but one "iceman," Dole by name, and the ice was doled out by him in spasmodic chunks and left upon the front steps or in the yard, to be utilized where it would do the most

There were two restaurants and ice cream parlors. One was manned by Ed Day and the other by Hank Talmadge, the two on State street. That both men survive and are well-to-do evidences the fact that they were masters of the situation and dispensed that which the people demanded. There were seven physicians - Strong. Taggart, Bell. Johnson, Brenton, Hunt and Merriman. There was no hospital, no appendicitis. The two gravestone men who followed in the wake of the physicians and took up the burdens they laid down were Jackson and Ackley. Both survive, and the former is still "taking up."

There were two banks, each with less than $50,000 deposits - L. C. Hyde and Davis & Washburn. The savings bank had been foretold. The Hon. S. T. Merrill, through whose constructive genius it was to be produced, was then wasting his substance in the riotous wasting of Rock river - he was president of the Rock river paper mill. Benjamin Brown's residence and six wooden stores had been burned in 1871, but he rebuilt that central business location, southwest corner of State and School streets, with a three-fold block of six (stone and brick) stores in 1872 and 1873.

There were three drug stores, Fenton's, Strong's and Gregory's, and three hotels, the Goodwin, the American house and Frank Salisbury's. There were four insurance agents. Parsons Johnson, E. P. King, Whitford & Hejffren and Charles Kendall. There were six lawyers, Hon. S. J. Todd, Alfred Taggart, Horace Dearborn, Judge Mills and Richard Tattershall. The county seat at Janesville was reached by rail, stopping off at Clinton Junction and a dinner with "Lote" Taylor.

Dr. George Bushnell was then the oracle at the First Congregational church, Rev. H. P. Higley at the Second, Rev. John McLean, just beginning at the First Presbyterian church, and Dr. Fayette Royce at St. Paul's, Rev. Levi Parmerly at the Baptist, Father Sullivan at St. Thomas', with an itinerant at the Methodist. The church edifices, barring the first, were all back numbers and impressed the onlooker that the respective worshipers were either poor in purse or poor in spirit, or were literally

There were then no bicycles, no automobiles, no city car line and no interurban. The 4,600 to 5,000 people comprising the city were on foot.

The above outlines some of the salient features of Beloit thirty-six years ago. Let the gentle reader throw upon the canvas a picture of Beloit today, and the changes wrought during these years will be gratifyingly apparent.

In the year 1878 a tornado swept over Shopiere and a couple of days afterward I saw where a house had been blown off its foundations and the material scattered along the path of the storm for half a mile, and where a green hickory tree trunk, about eighteen inches in diameter, had been completely twisted in two. "We did not take warning, however, and the historic tornado of June 11, 1883, caught us all without any tornado insurance. It came from the southwest and struck us at 5 :50 p. m. Rushing suddenly up the river valley, it tore off the cover of the Northwestern railroad bridge and then divided into two branches. One of these darting onward up the river struck and demolished the East Side Paper Mill, splitting a long stone wall and throwing down one side of it while the other half was left standing, and there causing the only death we experienced, that of Edward Halloran, a mill hand; the second branch, turning to the northeast, struck with its main force just about the width of Benjamin Brown's combined three blocks (southwest corner of State and East Grand avenue), tearing off two-thirds of the metal roofs, which were crumpled up like paper and dashed into the streets beyond, and pushing off the high brick cornice and part of the brick front, causing the owner a loss of $3,000 in ten minutes, but, fortunately, not injuring any one. From the solid stone walls of those blocks the tornado bounded upward and leaped northeast so high in the air that not even a shed was overturned ; but it sheared off all the church steeples. First Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist and First Congregational, as though with one sweep of the scythe of Father Time himself. The tornado was immediately followed by a very heavy fall of rain, lasting about half an hour, which added much to the damage.

By the unusually high water of the following spring the dam was torn out at the west end and a hole, estimated to be forty or fifty feet deep, was dug there by the torrent. This caused loss of waterpower, long delay and great expense, especially to the paper mill. Then within a year three large business failures had occurred, that of the Merrill and Houston Iron Works, west side, and on the east side the Rock River Paper Company, J. M. Cobb, manager, by which failure President A. L. Chapin lost about $10,000 and S. T. Merrill his entire fortune (except what Lawyer B. M. Malone managed to save out as the property of Mrs. Merrill). Worst of all was the failure of the paper company of Booth, Hinman & Co., in which more than $200,000 of the savings of Beloit people were swallowed up.

For many years also the city and town had been struggling under a great burden of railroad bonds. At one time, as we are informed, the debt could have been settled for about $40,000. Our most celebrated lawyer. Matt Carpenter, doubtless honestly, advised the Beloit authorities, however, to reject the offered compromise, assuring them that they would not have to pay anything. The legal and final decision of the case was against Beloit and before the matter was settled by a final payment in recent years we had paid, it is said, in principal and interest on those bonds, about $250,000. This load was still being carried when, about twenty-five years ago, old Beloit took on that new lease of life which is so graphically described by Mr. Dow in his chapter on the last quarter century of Beloit manufactures.

This business revival included the building up of the new South Beloit by the Wheelers, and caused many additions to our city plat, the whole list of which is here subjoined as of historic interest :

Additions, west side - At a very early date, south of the south bridge, was platted Fisher, Mills and Goodhue's addition, and west of that, Adams'. Then north along the river came Hackett's first, west of that his second, and still further west Hackett's third addition. North of Grand avenue is Tenney's addition, then Hanchett and Lawrence's next, Merrill's, north of that Noggle's, further north, Dow's addition and subdivision, and still further up the river Twin Oaks addition, and Edge- water. Besides small reserves and subdivisions we find, west of Hanchett and Lawrence, "Walker's addition, and further north, Hopkins', then Rockwell's and, west of Dow's, the New School addition.

On the east side, near the state line, was Goodhue's subdivision (now occupied largely by the two railroads), and the old public landing became Rufus King's subdivision. Northeast of the dam are Peet and Salmon's, AVheeler's, Haekett's fourth addition, Adams' addition, Riverside, Weirick and Dow's, Chamberlain's, Yates', Argall's, Prairie avenue, Park addition. Eaton place, Groveland place. Strong's first, second and third; and, east of the city cemetery, Maplewood Park addition; south of that, Hillcrest Park, Hinman's addition, Pickard and Dow's addition, Hubbard's, Merrill's, Fairview and Poydras Park additions, Dow's second, East Broad, East End and Athletic Park additions, and south of the creek on Manchester street, Strasburg's addition.

Then for South Beloit, south of the state line and about the mouth of Turtle creek, west of the Rockton road, is Goodhue's addition. East of that road and of the Northwestern railroad also, we have Eureka, Central, South Beloit original plat, Oliver's and McAleer's tracts, and, between the railroad and the Rockton road, Clark's addition and Oak Park addition. Latest, of all, recently in 1908, an addition has been platted on the west side of Rockton road. The successful efforts of the Wheelers and others which have secured several substantial manufactories for this region and have made South Beloit a place of about 600 inhabitants, with a fine public school and school building, deserves this separate and more complete record.

Some of the pioneers of Beloit, notably Professor Jackson J. Bushnell and Dr. E. N. Clark, held a theory that the territory now known as South Beloit was a good location for a village. Before them Rev. Dr. Montgomery also held the same view, thought that the opposite hill from the one where the college is now located would be a good site for a girl's school or seminary and demonstrated his faith by building the residence, bought later by Bushnell and now known as the Wheeler homestead. In the early fifties Dr. Clark made a map or plat showing the west half of the Doolittle farm laid off in lots extendiug from the Clark residence on Oak Grove avenue north to Turtle creek. Nothing, however, came of these first promotings.

Their successor was W. H. Wheeler, who conceived the idea of opening up this territory as a manufacturing district. He was at that time president of the Eclipse Wind Engine Company, and in 1883 bought the Bushnell homestead and commenced negotiations with the owners of the farms abutting on the state line and lying between the Rockton and the Roscoe roads with a view of locating thereon the industry of which he was the head. Failing to reach any arrangement with the owners of the land, he moved the industry to its present location, where it subsequently became the Fairbanks-Morse Manufacturing Company. Continuing negotiations with the owners, however, he succeeded in 1901 in acquiring the property aforesaid, inducing the railroad companies to put in a joint switch system, and in locating two industries, namely, the machine works of John Thompson & Sons Manufacturing Company and the Racine Knitting Mills. In connection with this movement 200 lots of the first recorded plat of the district were sold and the enterprise as a manufacturing site was fairly launched.

Industries - Racine Feet Knitting Mills, John Thompson & Sons Manufacturing Company; Slater & ]\Iarsden, machine shop and foundry: Kent's Boiler Works and Store Building; McLean & Sons, planing mill; Atwood-Davis Sand Company; Askin & Green, coal business and cement contractors; Noren's laundry, and the Warner Instrument Company, the latter being universally recognized as the highest class and most modern manufacturing establishment of its kind to be found in the western country.

As the South Beloit Land Association, Mr. Wheeler and his associates, C. E. Wheeler and George M, Allen, have effected total sales of about 500 lots and tracts, constructed four miles of cement sidewalk, laying out and grading the corresponding streets, have put in about one mile of water main, since turned over to the Beloit Water, Gas and Electric Company, who have joined it to the Beloit system and have also extended their gas and electric lines into this district; they have also been instrumental in the enterprises that have spanned Turtle creek with three steel bridges. About 100 good residences are now erected on this tract.

The start thus given south of the line has stimulated other promotions, the most notable of which is that of Eobert B. Clark and Dr. Arthur C. Helm, who have built up a fine residence district along the line of the Interurban Electric railroad. Messrs. Kollin Eadway, Dennis Hayes and George Shaw have also made good starts with their respective subdivisions. On the west side of the river, Messrs. Lou Raubenheimer and Harry Adams havemade a fine showing with their subdivision south of the state line road, now called Shirland avenue. All told, the several South Beloit subdivisions show a total population of about 1,200 people, which represents the growth since 1901.

That the pioneer founders of Beloit were men of muscle, brain and courage, who wrought conscientiously and with foresight and believed in what they did, is true; it is also true, however, that their successors have been men equally able to do things. "We are just now, for the fifth time, raising $10,000 for Beloit college. Nevertheless, until the closing years of the nineteenth century, Beloit, though justly proud of her standing as an educational, a social and religious center, and nominally a city, was only a town. Nothing worthy of much pride had yet been done in the line of public improvements, while our public utilities were not up to city standards. But when the time was ripe and the demand for these things became imperative by reason of the city's rapid development of commercial and industrial interests, there were not wanting men, who were able to grapple with and successfully solve the new problems. For example, public health and convenience demanded paved streets and sanitary sewers; owing to limitations in the city charter these could be obtained only on petition of persons desiring them, and such petitions were rarely presented. An ordinance, incorporating a part of "the general charter law," was therefore passed by the city council and became a city law, which stood the test of review by the Supreme Court of our state. Under this law a Board of Public "Works was inaugurated, to have charge of public improvements like street paving and a sewer system, and that is the source of the better appearance and improved healthfulness of our city. The growth along both these lines and in the matter of cement sidewalks, also, during the past ten years, has been noticeable and gratifying.

In the direction of our public utilties, water service, gas and electric light, when the demand came for improvement that demand was heeded. Men and money were found to carry on the work and under wise management as a merger company and with expenditure during the last two years of about half a million dollars on the enlargement and improvement of their plants, the water, gas and electric services of the city have been raised to a standard of excellence that is justly a cause for civic pride. In due time also has come the Interurban line, with its great power house in this city, giving us closer connections north and south, the new fireproof Hilton hotel, second to none in southern "Wisconsin, and last of all our Beloit street railway, opened in July, 1907, and already considered by the public and by its owners a most gratifying success. The doubling of Beloit 's population, also, within the last ten years reveals a manifest reason for our new watchword of "Greater Beloit," applied not only to the college but equally to the city, a busy, bustling, thriving city now of about sixteen thousand souls; a city of homes and good order ; a city the products of whose mills and factories supply not only domestic wants but also the demands of a widely extended and extending foreign trade ; a city in whose business houses and magnificent manufacturing plants are the visible evidences of commercial activity and thrift; a city, which is the home and proud possessor of Beloit college, an institution of world-wide fame and which just now in June, 1908, has brought its endowment up to the million dollar mark ; a city, the beauty of whose external appearance gave it long since the designation, "Beautiful Beloit"; a city whose public monuments and utilities testify already to civic pride and the enterprise and public spirit of her citizens; a city whose railway, postal, telegraph and telephone services can hardly be surpassed. Beloit is, still further, a home not only of good work but also of good thought, a city whose transforming influence, as an educational, a social and religious and moral center, is recognized and felt in communities and regions both near and far away. Therefore it needs not the vision of a seer for us, looking forward from the height of such achievement, to forecast a future history of Be- loit, bright with the record of much higher attainments, great in the fulfilment of hopes thus far unrealized; the story of a city that will have proved mighty in the accomplishment of nobler deeds than any we yet have done for humanity and for God.

William Barstow Strong. The poet, Horace, complimented his wealthy patron, Meeaenas, for being descended from royal ancestors. It is greater cause for congratulations, however, to have had a Puritan and New England ancestry. Such was the privilege of the three Strong brothers, Henry, James and "William, whose names have each and all brought honor to Beloit. Their remote ancestor, John Strong, was born in Taunton, Somersetshire, England, in 1605. Having removed to London, then to Plymouth, he sailed for the new world in the ship "Mary and John^" March 20, 1630, and arrived at Nantasket, Mass., after a seventy-day passage. May 30, 1630. June 13, 1663, he was ordained and installed as an elder of the first church of Northampton, Mass.

His direct descendant of the next century was Elijah Strong, who with his brother, Asahel, bought from the school fund of the state of Connecticut, the whole township of Brownington, Vermont, 13,400 acres. Elijah was a devotedly religious man and a merchant at Bennington, Vt., whence he moved to Brownington, Orleans county, Vermont, in March 1799. He was a justice of the peace, a member of the state legislature and judge of probate.

His son, Elijah Gridley Strong, a farmer and merchant at Brownington, also high sheriff of Orleans county and a member of the Vermont- legislature, married on January 4, 1826, Sarah Ashley Partridge, of Norwich, Vt. In 1851 they removed with most of their children to Beloit, Wis., and opened the old Beloit house, southeast corner of Race and State streets, as a temperance hotel.

Of their three sons, Henry, James and William, all of Brownington, the first and third came with them, and William B., born May 16, 1837, attended school at Beloit for about a year, took a business course at Chicago and then decided for a business life. His father had led Mr. James McAlpin to come with him from Rockford, 111., and establish in Beloit a candle manufactory, in which Mr. Strong held a partnership and which was located at the west end of Broad street, on the river bank, not far from my home. In those early days, "When the candles were lit in the parlor," that manufacture was both necessary and important, and watching Mr. McAlpin make candles was one of the dear delights of my boyhood. Occasionally, after school hours, young "William Strong helped in that work.

In 1852, when E. H. Broadhead was president of the Milwaukee & Mississippi railway, James Strong, its agent and telegraph operator at Beloit, had his younger brother, William, assist in the work, and so started him in the railroad business at the age of fifteen. The two brothers worked together until 1855, when William B. was given the Janesville office temporarily, during the vacation of its regular operator, George Cheney. The unexpected death of Mr. Cheney kept Mr. Strong in that place until, a few weeks afterwards, President Broadhead made him the company's agent and operator at Milton, Wis., where he served acceptably two years. It is needless to repeat this description of Mr. Strong's service, for it was always acceptable. His next transfer was to Whitewater and later to Monroe, Wis., when a branch road reached that point. After six months there, in 1858, he was made general agent with his office at Janesville, Wis., where he continued about seven years.

April 1, 1865, Mr. Strong was transferred to McGregor, Iowa, as assistant superintendent of the McGregor & Western railroad, and in the fall of 1866 went to Council Bluffs, Iowa, as general western agent of the Chicago & Northwestern Railway Company. Thenceforth he was usually called General Strong. After three years he became assistant general superintendent and general freight agent of the Burlington & Missouri River railroad, a part of the C, B. & Q. system, with his office at Burlington, Iowa, and in the fall of 1872 was moved up to Chicago as assistant general superintendent of the consolidated Burlington lines. In 1874 Mr. Strong accepted the general superintendency of the Michigan Central railroad, but two years later returned to the C, B. & Q. as its general superintendent.

On January 1, 1878, General Strong made his last railroad transfer, becoming vice-president and general manager of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad Company, and in 1881 was elected its president, with his office in Boston, Mass.

all the record of his work with roads, reads like a romance. His knowledge of human nature and trained judgment, enabled him to pick the right men for the right places, and his genial nature secured from all subordinates their personal devotion and verybest service. Under his eleven years' administration, the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe line grew from a road of 637 miles to a railroad system comprising about 9,000 miles.

In the year 1889 failing health finally led Mr. Strong to retire from all railroad responsibilities. Nine or ten years later, having great faith in the home of his childhood, he invested large amounts in Beloit property, purchasing and building various city blocks and many residences. He also bought the old Bennett farm one mile north on the Milwaukee road, fitted it with all modern improvements as a home for himself and called it, after his mother's maiden name, the Partridge farm. His land northeast of the city, which was platted as "Strong's Addition to Beloit," is already full of new homes. Four of its avenues bear the Strong family names of Woodward, Barstow, Partride and Ashley, besides one called Strong avenue.

In memory of his noble Christian parents, General Strong built and gave to that new community a neat brick and stone edifice which was duly dedicated August 27, 1899, and is now regularly occupied as the Gridley chapel. The city school, built in that neighborhood and recently much enlarged, is called the Wright school.

While building over the old Manchester block at the southeast corner of State street and East Grand avenue, Mr. Strong enlarged it with a third story, which he fitted up and gave to public use as the H. P. Strong Emergency Hospital. He also extended the area of the Beloit cemetery by joining with his brother's widow, Mrs. Henry P. Strong, in giving the city an adjoining tract of fifteen acres to be used for that purpose, reserving for himself only one small lot.

So this loyal son of Beloit brought back here that ability, wealth and honorable character which marked him as a leading citjizen. Failing health, however, has obliged him of late to seek a milder climate in southern California. In the fall of 1907, President Ripley's private car was sent all the way from Los Angeles to Chicago so that Mr. Strong might be given as comfortable a journey as the loving care of railway friends could offer. The steel engraving presented here is manifestly the picture of his old age. The cut published in the editor's "Past made Present," 1900 (to be found in various public libraries), shows him at his prime. About thirty years ago, a Beloit citizen, sitting in the lobby of Chicago's principal hotel with a leading city newspaper man, saw coming through the front door a gentleman of dignified and commanding presence, having on his arm a small man, who seemed in comparison almost a dwarf. To his companion the newspaper man remarked: "That is William B. Strong, of Beloit, and Jay Gould." The latter was then called the richest man in America, but to the newspaper man, who appreciated his royal manhood, William B. Strong was first.

While in Beloit for a few days recently (spring of 1908), Mr. Strong remarked of his brother James (the ex-president of Carleton college, Minnesota), "We have never had a word of difference in all our lives."

Date of marriage, October 2, 1859. Place, Beloit, Wis. The bride. Miss Abbie J. Moore, of Beloit. Children - Fred Moore Strong, born Janesville, Wis., May 9, 1861 ; resident, Beloit, Wis. Ellen Sylvia Strong, born McGregor, Iowa, January 27, 1867; residence, Newton Centre, Mass. William James Henry Strong, born Council Bluffs, Iowa, October 16, 1869; residence, Des Moines, Iowa. Grandchildren - F. M. Strong has three children; Ellen Strong Burdett has three children; William J. H. Strong has two children.

Keminiscences Of Eaely Days

I was born in Vermont and left that state with my people in a wagon for the Rock river country in September, 1836. We stopped some months in midwinter at Detroit, then of about 4,000 people, came along the shore of Lake Michigan, March, 1837, fording the rivers and sleeping in log houses, and reached Chicago, a small village, on the 20th, where we stopped a few hours to rest our jaded horses. We then struck out, hugging the lake shore, for Milwaukee, reaching Root river, now Racine, on the 23rd, and Milwaukee on the 24th, crossing the river on the ice a short distance above the mouth. We remained in Milwaukee until the 17th of May, when we started through the dense woods and came out into the open country beyond ; thence along that beautiful prairie where East Troy now is; thence to Johnstown, Rock river, stopping with Johnson over night, and slept on the floor of his hospitable board shanty. The next day, the 20th, we picked our way over that beautiful broad prairie, making the woods where William and Joseph Spaulding had just made their claims - four miles east of Janesville where the Milton road now is ; from thence through the oak openings to Prairie du Lac ; crossing this prairie to the woods near the location of Milton Junction. From there we went direct to the foot of Lake Koshkonong, reaching our log cabin, previously built, the same day. There were no roads or traveled tracks, especially in the last half of our journey, save now and then a wagon track which was sometimes followed as a guide, but roads then were quite unnecessary. The prairies as well as the oak openings were smooth and free from obstacles to the traveler. The woods looked like the Down East orchards. The Indians never failed to burn the grgss every year; the undergrowth was consumed and the ground kept clean. A trip through these woods with a team or on foot was delightful. In the spring when we came the grass was peeping from the ground and the early flowers adding beauty to the landscape. The prairies fairly smiled with acres of flowers of all colors presenting a picture more beautiful and artistic than the human hand could possibly paint. A bird or squirrel could be seen at long distance tripping over the ground, and nature alone could furnish its equal. I think I may say that today a country so beautiful, so inviting to a home-seeker, so rich in soil and promising to the agriculturist, does not exist in the whole world.

Lands in Rock county were not then in market, nor were they until 1840. Every acre seemed rich and productive, easy of tillage and a grand sight to the covetous eye born in old Vermont. But the spoilers of this beauty came afterwards. The axe and the plow make sad havoc with nature's landscapes. These lands were too inviting to remain long unclaimed, settlers, or rather claim-hunters, came from all directions, and I dare say every foot of land along the banks of Rock river was claimed in less than two years. We had a "Club Law" for our protection. It was strictly obeyed. A registrar was chosen who made a record of every claim on the payment of twenty-five cents. But certain improvements must be made within specified time or the claim might be "jumped," though settlers with their families came slowly. For a long time neighbors were few and far between. For the first year Janes, the founder of Janesville, ten miles away, was our nearest neighbor. In 1838, when eleven years of age, I started alone and made my way to his house. I stayed with him over night in his log but comfortable house His was the only one I saw. There may have been others, but I do not think so. My neck must have been lame from looking over my shoulder while on the road, or rather while in the trail, to see if the Indians were after me, but they were not. There were plenty of them, but they usually kept near the river, while my course was across the country away from the river. Lake Koshkonong was a great resort for Indians. They were often in camp there by the hundreds. Principally Winnebagoes and Pottawatomies. Game existed around this lake in great abundance. These Indians were always peaceable, even kind to us, and we dared not be otherwise to them; but on two occasions

I never was so frightened. At one time my mother and I were in the shanty alone ; of a sudden, at least fifty braves (I suppose they were), mounted on ponies, came on a dead run and completely surrounded the cabin so closely that they darkened the window. Their chief dismounted and came in. My mother was as white as a ghost and my heart was in my throat. We supposed the end was near. He asked for whiskey; we had none. With a disgusted look, he as suddenly left as he came. In the twinkling of an eye every one in Indian file was disappearing over the hill and out of sight, to our great joy and relief. At another time, when in great fear from rumors that the Indians were about to rise and massacre all the white people of Rock river valley, about 3 in the morning we heard unearthly yells and cries not far from the shanty. We arose and dressed and prepared to die. We sat up until morning waiting for the onslaught. Scarcely a word was uttered between us; we thought our fate was too plain to admit of discussion. But no Indians came; we then thought, if we did not believe, that possibly all Indians were good Indians, Afterwards we learned we had heard the cry of a pack of prairie wolves, which the pioneers soon learned could not be excelled in hideous noises - ^not even by. the Indians themselves.

Shall I tell you how hard it was for us to live? We were not hunters, and provisions were very high and hard to be obtained at any price. Flour was ten dollars a barrel and pork forty, if indeed it could be had at all. Milwaukee was the nearest place where these staples could be found, with no means of transportation within the reach of many of us. Very little ground was broken for cultivation the first few years and consequently little was raised. We spaded a garden spot the first year and raised some vegetables, which went a long ways to help us out. The third year we raised an acre of wheat, reaped it with a sickle and threshed it with a flail. Soon a mill was erected at Beloit and my brother and I took our first grist of wheat to that mill with an ox team. We slept on the floor of the mill through the night and returned the next day to our home, twenty-four miles, in triumph. We felt sure then that this country would be a success.

Reminiscences Of Early Days 199

navigated. The river and country adjacent had become quite renowned in the expectation that steamers at no distant day would run up and down it, furnishing us with ample transportation for our products. Railroads then were scarcely thought of. In our journey from Vermont to Wisconsin with a team, we had not crossed a railroad track in the whole distance. Water navigation was our only expectation, and when we found that Rock river was so shallow that it could be easily forded with teams, our brightest visions for the great future of the river valley disappeared and we began to wonder w^hy we did not make our claims nearer the lake shore where unoccupied lands could then be found in great abundance. We knew the soil was rich and exceedingly productive and that we could in time raise untold quantities of grain excellent in quality, but just how we were to get it to market was a problem too difficult for us to solve, and for some years we felt that we had made a great mistake. The farmers of Rock county found it no easy task to haul their wheat to the lake shore and sell it perhaps when there for fifty or sixty cents per bushel. Our river navigation was confined to the use of Indian canoes, from which we obtained no small amount of pleasure. Travelers and home-seekers made very common use ^of the canoe in their journeys up and down the Rock river valley, almost always stopping at our cabin for a night's rest. How their faces brightened to see a white man's abode, though very humble, and they gladly laid down upon the floor when necessary and would sleep as soundly as if at their own home. The foot of Lake Koshkonong was a fording place for travelers between Milwaukee and Madison, then called "The Four Lakes." In 1838, while the first capitol building was being constructed, I very often forded footmen over the river en route to and from their work, with my canoe. These little crafts had to be handled with great care if not with skill; they were as uncertain as the Indians who constructed them. One moment they were right side up and the next moment bottom side up, and the unfortunate navigator in the soup. It all depended upon how the boat was handled. An expert cared little for this if not very partial to dry clothing. I remember one occasion - I think it was in 1839 - Daniel Stone had been up the river somewhere in Jefferson county looking for a site in the heavy timber for locating a saw mill or to obtain in some way lumber for erecting buildings on the claim which he and his brother Robert had made near the Indian ford. Lake Koshkonong had the appearance then in the summer time of a large meadow rather than of a lake. The growing wild rice completely covered it and water was scarcely visible. The water was only four or five feet deep quite uniformly. Stone had succeeded in pushing his canoe to within about a mile and a half from the foot of the lake and a mile from the southern shore, when, in some unguarded moment, his little craft was bottom side up. His gun, his camp kettles and all his outfit went to the bottom. Fortunately his feet found the bottom, leaving his head still above the water. He was thankful for this much. It was impossible for him to expel the water from the boat or get into it again if he could. His only chance for life was to wade to the shore, all depending upon the depth of the water and his strength for the task. The bottom of the lake was muddy and the wild rice so thick, his progress was slow, but he made it and pulled through to our cabin looking as though he had risen from the dead. For some years the enterprising settlers of Rock county manufactured large quantities of lumber from Uncle Sam's heavy-timbered lands, as every one felt free to do, up the Bark river and other points in Jefferson county, and floated down the river in rafts and through the lake in the spring before the wild rice had blocked the passage, and comfortable houses and barns were built with it. In fact this became quite an industry and many a fellow made money by it. Not till 1840 could these settlers obtain title to the land, for it was withheld from the market until then. Up to this time improvements on their claims were very few. All kinds of rumors had been afloat that the lands along the Rock river and for many miles back would be granted to some company for the improvement of the river and that the claims of settlers would not be recognized. This greatly retarded actual settlement and improvement of the land ; but when the time came that they could purchase and obtain title to their lands, work began in earnest. In 1841 we organized the first school in the neighborhood where I lived. We took possession of a deserted log cabin; gathered the few books which had by chance been brought into the country by the families, who mustered nearly a dozen scholars, though some came a long distance, and by interchange, we made excel- lent progress. Those scholars were as hungry for a school and for an education as the laboring man is for his dinner. We took some risks in case of sickness. Though deprived of comfortable houses and much exposed, the settlers were generally healthy. There were, however, exceptions, especially when the fever and ague came. Although not regarded as a dangerous disease, every one had to shake, and continued to shake until there was but little left of him to shake. Fortunately we were afflicted with very few other diseases; physicians were few if they could be had at all. Finally one settled at Janesville to our great relief. This man was Dr. Luke Stoughton. He was once called to treat scarlet fever in our family; how well I remember being bolstered up on the couch before the window watching him as he came on foot, winding his way through the woods at a long distance when I first saw him. His trip was successful and we paid him two dollars for his excellent service and journey on foot of ten miles. The Doctor has long since gone, I trust, to a still better land.

Among the early settlers were James, Elias and George Ogden, bachelor cousins of William B. Ogden, the great railroad projector, of Chicago. They occupied a log shanty at the foot of the lake in the fall of 1837, and in 1838 came Joseph Goodrich at Milton. The Butts brothers, single men, and Levy Crandal settled the same year near Milton Junction, in 1838.

The Indians subsisted on fish, game and wild rice. They utilized the canoes in gathering rice. When ripe, they would take an empty canoe, push it into the thicket and with a pole, bend the tops over and Avith a stick whip the heads until the kernel would drop into the boat. It was then put into sacks made of hides of rushes and stowed away for future use.

But this article is already too long to admit of further details, and I will bring it to a close by adding that while I have not resided in Rock county since 1852, I have been a watchful neighbor and witnessed with great satisfaction its development, and high attainment in everything that brings comfort and happiness to homes, and I have always been proud of being an early settler of Rock county.

Reminiscences Of I. T. Smith

In the year 1834 I started for what we called "West, for Michigan. I took a steamer to Detroit, and a stage to western part of Michigan. I worked there a few months, and then started for Chicago on foot. I came there to get employment at carpenter work. I arriA'ed at Michigan City, Indiana, and from there followed along the beach of Lake Michigan. The first house I came to was eighbteen miles from Michigan City. Four miles further was a hotel kept by Bennett. Ten miles further to the widow Berry's. Ten miles further to Little Calumet, now Pullman. Six miles from there to Colonel King's and six miles from there to the village of Chicago. Those were all of the settlers from Michigan City to Chicago. There was an Indian payment in Chicago at this time, and it was reported that there were 7,000 Indians there.

I spent a few days in Chicago, and then came west onto the Fox river, where Aurora and Batavia and those places now are. As I returned from Ausable Grove to Du Page there were no houses nor timber, and I returned to Chicago and worked a short time there, and from there I returned to Michigan, from where I had first started. The man failed to bring my goods and tools and I returned.

I remained in Michigan the next season until October, 1835. I then started for AVisconsin. I assisted the old Bearsley family to move from Michigan to Racine. We camped over night at Michigan City on the way. There came a great storm and the wind blew so that the tent hung by one corner in the morning.

We pulled out, and got a few miles, and the children had liked to freeze, and we had to return to save the children, and stayed the second night there. The next day we started again with better success, and made about twenty miles. That night there came a snow storm; about one foot of snow fell, and we were driving hogs as well as other things, and lost more or less of them, and anybody could fancy what a time we had. We made the best progress we could from day to day, and passed through Chicago. Chicago at that time was all south of the river, except Kinzie, the trader, who was on the north side of the Chicago river. There were no dwelling houses on the north side of the Chicago river.

The first house out from Chicago was four miles to Butterfields. While there we were talking with the people. Bearsley, the father of the man I was helping, was pretty old, and he was so distressed with the snow, etc., that he declared that he would not come over that road again, until he could come on the railroad. The whole crowd discouraged him from ever coming again, but he did live to see many railroads coming into Chicago.

The next man living north was Ouilmette, He lived at Gross Point. About four miles further lived Pattersons, ten miles from there to McCuens, ten miles from there to Sunderlands. The next house from Sunderlands, I don't know the name of the party, but the place was called Grand Myer, which is now back of Kenosha. The next house was twenty miles or more to Skunk Grove. This was on the old Indian trail from Milwaukee to Chicago. From Skunk Grove it was two miles to D. F. Smith's.

While I was in Chicago, in 1834, I helped load a schooner for George H. Walker, a man named Hubbard, Byron Kilbourn and some others, who were going with this schooner to Milwaukee to make their claims there. At this time there were no settlers in Milwaukee, except Solomon Juneau. The Government had a few men working at the harbor in Chicago, I recollect. Three feet or three and one-half feet was the deepest water on the bar at that place, and we had to take the goods out into the lake in a batteau and put them on board.

In the spring of '37 I went from here to Otter creek in the northern part of this county, and made a claim. My nearest neighbor was about a mile and a half this way from Janesville, and there were no settlers between here and Otter creek at that time.

We made a claim there the fourth of March, 1837. The sixth of March, I made a claim out in the town of Harmony, east of Mount Zion a mile or so, on part of sections 24 and 25. This was the first claim in the town of Harmony, unless some one had taken up one back of the high school, but there was not a settler in the town of Harmony at the time I made my claim.

In March while I was in the town of Harmony, I took a team and cut some maple brush and bushes and staked out a road from Johnstown to Milton avenue now, and so induced the men to come that way instead of going down by Black Hawk Grove. The town board afterwards adopted this road.

This last year and the year before I attended the Scotch games in the town of Harmony, and I did not meet a man who could call me by my own name.

After disposing of that claim I returned back to Otter creek in the northern part of the town of Milton. My brother's family came there in May, 1837. We built a saw mill on the creek, and sawed lumber for ourselves and neighbors.

I used to get my washing done down at Smiley 's, (-) about a mile and a half away, north of Janesville, consequently I had occasion to walk there without a road, as there were no roads then.

I helped Judge Whiton raise a house the first of April, 1837. I built a cart, and with a yoke of cattle, started with provisions in the month of May to go to Otter creek. When I got to the north side of the prairie, I found Spauldings just raising a cabin. After passing them a mile or so, my team tired out, and I came back and helped them raise their cabin, and as they had had no experience in the building of our western cabins, consequently I was considerable help to them. They did not understand how to fix the gable, and so I helped them about that, so that they could cover it with shingles and hold them down with a pole instead of nails.

Remixiscences Of I. T. Smith 205

After a few days I came back, and went through on to the road to Milton, which is the same road to Milton now, with the exception of a very little variation near Spaulding's house. That was the first road from here to Milton. Before this they used to go east to the Indian trail, a much longer way.

In the spring of 1837 I made a claim for a friend from the East on lands about a mile or a mile and a quarter this side of Milton Junction. I went with him from Smiley 's to show it to him. He refused to accept it because it was so far from neighbors and roads. He said that he would never have any neighbors nor churches nor roads.

In the spring of 1838 I was living two miles up the river from here, Janesville, and the United States marshal summoned me on a jury for circuit court here. This was the first court of the kind in this county. We came accordingly, and our names were called, we proved our attendance, and received our money. There were no cases on the docket.

During the spring of 1837 I was stopping with the Janes' here, who were friends of ours. One evening we heard a man call on the west side of the river, and myself and Aaron Walker came over with a ferry boat; he proved to be Joe Payne, of Monroe, with mail, the first mail ever brought here. He had a contract for carrying the mail from Monroe to Racine.

In the fall of 1838 I went to the land sale at Milwaukee on foot with Volney Atwood, Theodore Kendall and others, and stayed there until our land was offered in market and bid off. I was sent by my brother to buy land for Strunk and McNitt. When the land was bid off I went in to pay my money to the receiver. My money was in gold in a belt, and I opened the belt and took my money out. I had bid off three quarter sections, which would amount to $600. The receiver counted out $600, and there was money left. He says to me how much money have you? I replied, I don't know. Well, he says, how did you come by it? I said, my brother gave me the belt, and told me to come and buy the land. He says, Did not you count it? No. Did you not receipt for it? No. Whose money it is? Was it his money? No. Whose money is it? I said it was Strunk 's money, a man in western New York. And you neither counted it, nor receipted for it, nor he did not tell you how much there was? I said no. What kind of folks have you out there? Well, I said, you come out there and you won't have to bar the doors nights to keep out bad men. There were a great many people in Milwaukee at that time, and I did not hear of a ease of a man being robbed by another,

I slept in a large room, a ball-room covered with sleeping cots, and every man, or nearly every man must have had more or less money with him, and not a man reported a loss.

Some time in 1838 I bought some land in Dane county without seeing it. and afterward I made up my mind to go out and look at the land. I took my brother with me, who hac^ just come on from western New York. We crossed Lake Koshkonong at the foot of the lake. Thibeau's son ferried me over the lake.

Then I took a trail toward Madison leading to the first lake. At the foot of the first lake lived a trader named Rasdal. He had a squaw wife, who was his second wife. He had lost his first wife, who was a sister to this one. Rasdal was a Kentuekian. He told me that when he first came into the lead mines if anyone had told him that he would marry a squaw, he would have knocked him down if he had broken an arm. I stayed with them for supper, and we had muskrat and warm biscuit for supper, and I learned from him that the land man I wished to see was several miles from there. He directed me, and I followed the trail he directed until I came to a section corner. Then I discovered by the section corner that I had passed the land, and my brother was so unaccustomed to camping out during the night, and I found that I had to stay out all night, that I sent him back. I put him on a section line and told him to follow that to the river, and he would come to Churchill's at Lake Koshkonong. After I got him started I went the other way towards my land, and accidentally ran a rosin weed into my foot through a hole in my boot. The weed splintered into several pieces, and I had to ford the river, and took cold in my foot. As I crossed the river I saw two squaws hunting for mudturtles. I went on until I found my land, and rather than to camp out without supper, I thought that I would go back, and find their wigwam. I returned, and found them still in the boat. My foot pained me to such an extent I tried to get these splinters out. I could see some of them under the flesh, but I could not get them out. I gave my knife to the old squaw, and told her to dig, them out of my foot. She worked at it, but without success, and then she turned it over to the younger one, and thought she might succeed. She could not get them out. When the old Indian came in I set him at it. I sharpened my knife, and he went at it. These slivers were near the flesh, and you had to cut the flesh in order to get them out. I told the Indian to cut around so that he would be able to take them out, and he tried it with the knife. It hurt so much that I could not stand it any more, and I had to abandon the idea of trying to get them out.

For supper that night we had a turtle, whose shell was ten inches long. The turtle was cut into four pieces, and boiled for supper. Not being used to such, I did not relish it very much, and did not eat very much of it. The next morning for breakfast, we had what was left of the turtle from supper the night before.

I wanted the Indian to bring me down to the Catfish, but he being a Winnebago, and I not being able to understand his language, I had hard work to make him understand what I meant. . But by making a map of Lake Koshkonong in the ashes, and Rock river, I gave him to understand what I wanted, and I could not get his consent to come for some time. I was very lame, but I started to walk, and got a little ways, when he called me back and gave me to understand that he would bring me down, and then the squaws went to work to take down the wigwam and pack it in the canoe, and the Indian hid some of his effects that he could not carry, and the two squaws walked. They took a trail down the Catfish river, and cut across from point to point. We progressed until we were almost to Rock river. Rock river was high, and at that time pickerel were plenty and the old Indian saw a ripple in the water. He took off his moccasins and leggins and took his spear, and by and by struck and brought up a pickerel with it. We came on to Rock river, I was getting very weak with pain, and hunger, and when we undertook to paddle up the river he could not paddle alone. The result was that I was obliged to walk. I told him that I must walk as I could not paddle it, so the two squaws got in and paddled up the river without any trouble.

It was at least six miles to the nearest house. When I got there I sent that man Churchill to our place, which was about four miles, to get a sack of meal and bring a horse. I paid the Indian with the sack of meal, about 100 pounds or more. I saw the old fellow afterward ; he was always a friend of mine, but I have never liked turtle since.

Judge Irwin was a man who had a good deal of notoriety here as a great lover of dogs. A great many took a prejudice against the judge by reason of his remark that they kept Berkshire dogs and lean hogs.

I was at the first wedding in Rock county in the early winter of 1836, I think it was. At the legislative session held at Burlington, Iowa, Daniel Smiley and a man named Brown, were appointed justices of the peace for this county. We were attached to Racine county for judicial purposes, and Smiley had to go to Racine to qualify, so as to be able to act.

Our laws were the Michigan laws. "We had no Wisconsin laws at that time. He went to Racine to qualify, and a Clark Waterman sent by him to get a license to marry Betsey Hale. But he was unable to get the license under the law. He returned here without the license, and told the party that he could either go to Racine and get it himself or it could be published in three conspicuous places in the county. So the notice was written out. One was placed upon Janes' door at the hotel here, where the girl was working, and the man was boarding, and one on Smiley 's door, up the river two miles, and one on St. John's, below here.

At the expiration of the required time, we all came down for the wedding. There were no ladies around to invite in, and the only lady beside the one to be married was Mrs. Janes. They were, however, married in due form. I think that woman is still living on the North Fox river. The man is dead, his name was Waterman.

Eeminiscences Of I. T. Smitpi 209

and we were provided with blankets for camping, and a small kettle and a frying pan for cooking. Our idea was to find pine on the north side of the Wisconsin upon unsettled lands belonging to Indians or which had lately been treated for. We planned to pacify the Indians by giving them some presents of food or blankets, and so gain their consent to build mills and cut timber.

We started on the trail from our house on Otter creek to Thibeaux cabin at the foot of Lake Koshkonong, in September, 1838. At Thibeaux 's we met a man named Simeon Towle, who had bought of Thibeaux his land-scrip, granted him by the government after treating with the Winuebagoes for their lands. His scrip was located at or near the mouth of the Kishwaukie, in Illinois. Towle had paid Thibeaux some money on a verbal bargain, but had no writing. They wished me to make out a paper showing the bargain between them, which I did. Thibeau's boy took us across the lake and we proceeded on the trail towards the Four Lakes. (Madison.) As I had a pair of new boots my feet soon became sore, and then I put on a pair of Indian moccasins ; was much crippled, made a short day's journey and camped early. Flocks of flying pigeons, of which we shot enough for supper and breakfast, led us to water and we camped on the bank of a creek. As we were getting breakfast next day two men came from the east, the direction, of Fort Atkinson, who had passed the night without supper or blankets, and one of whom was sick. I added more water and plenty of black pepper to the pigeons in my kettle, and with coffee for all, we made a fair breakfast. We went on slowly together on account of the sick one, and thought it not far to Madison. But we took a trail that led to the third lake, opposite Madison, and then followed around the north side of the lake until we came to a creek, but no bridge. Tracks of wagons led down the creek to the lake, where they extended around the mouth of the creek. I then learned that the way to pass a creek which flows into a lake is to go around it on a bar that forms in the lake between the current of the creek and the waves of the lake. My hired man, who was large and strong, carried the sick man across the water on his back. On account of growing darkness, we hurried on, but soon found the light increasing and that we had been having an eclipse of the sun.

"We arrived at Madison in good time, where we left our fellow travelers. I never knew their names or what became of them. Madison was then a small place with only the people who had come to work on the capitol building, the w^alls of which were but little above the ground.

We stayed over night with a Mr. Peck, whose wife was very indignant because an Englishman named Featherstonhaugh had called her Mrs. Quarter-of-a-bushel. The next day we took the road for Blue Mounds, and at Black Earth bought potatoes of a settler, who had raised them on the prairie without a plow. He used a spade, made a trench and threw the dirt on the grass, and upon that dropped his potato seed. Then with the spade he covered the seed, and when they needed hoeing the spade brought the earth from the bottom of the trench. The crop was harvested by throwing the earth back into the trench, and made quite a fair crop.

From there we took the road to the shot tower, or Helena, at the mouth of a creek on Wisconsin river. The road ran on the top of a remarkable ridge for about nine miles, and then gradually followed down the valley of the creek to its mouth. At the shot tower we found but seven men and two women. Captain Sands, an old sea captain, had charge, with a man to attend him and his horse. Two men poured the shot, one worked in the finishing house, one, a cooper, made kegs in which part of the shot were sent to market, and one was the boarding house keeper. These constituted the permanent population of the place. There was a perpendicular wall eighty feet high, and timbers set up against it and boarded on three sides, formed with it a chimney, down which the poured shot could fall down without being disturbed by the wind. From the bottom of this a well or shaft was dug down into the rock about 100 feet with water at the bottom. The shot had thus a 180 feet fall and then struck in water, which saved them from being flattened. From the finishing house a tunnel extended to the bottom of the shaft, along which was a railway carrying a small box on wheels. The shot were scooped out of the water with a longhandled ladle and loaded into the box, which was then run out to the upper part of the finishing house, where the shot were dumped into a revolving barrel and were polished. From there the shot were run down several short, inclined tables, having a narrow trough between them of such width that the round shot would skip over the trough while the imperfect ones would fall into it and be sent back to be melted over. The lead was drawn by ox teams from the smelters to the top of the ridge, where the pouring house stood. In two large kettles there the lead was melted and tempered with arsenic. Two men then dipped it out of the kettles, turned around, rested the ladlehandle on a board placed for that purpose, and poured the lead so that it would fall to the bottom of the shaft.

While detained there a day by rain, I bought a canoe, larger than some, but quite small for a green hand. We were told that a party of Indians Avere there a few days before, who run a lot of bullets and said they would kill any white man found on the north side of the river, as it had been sold by that part of the tribe who lived on the south side, and those on the north side would not consent to the sale. The shot tower people advised me in a friendly way to not risk myself on the north side, but I would risk it as I had started for that side and never heard of one of our family turning back.

We started down the Wisconsin, but the wind blew the water into our canoe so that we had frequently to land and bail it out. Reaching the mouth of Pine river, the stream for which I had started, we landed and walked up it some distance. Having found it too narrow to run a raft down, we took to our canoe again and proceeded down the river. When about to land on the north side after dark we saw a fire and, pulling in close to shore, were hailed by Indians, who said we were bad white men and had stolen our Indian canoe. One of them gave a whoop, which was answered by another farther back, who came running down to the river, and we expected they would come out and try to take the canoe away from us. My man had sold his gun, and we had but one gun to stand them off with. I understood their language enough to know what they intended, and told them that if they came out there I should shoot. We pulled over to the other side, ran on down for some time and were about to land on an island to camp without fire, when we saw a light on the south side. We ran to it and found there a settler's house near the furnace of John B. Terry, at the place now called Muscoda, where we spent the night. Next morning we learned that a keel boat, loaded with lead, was aground on a bar a little way down the river and that the captain wanted more men, so we went do"\vn and hired out to him for the run down to the mouth of the river.

As keel boats are now seldom seen, I will describe it as I recollect it. The boat was about sixty feet in length and fourteen or sixteen feet beam, and drew twenty or twenty-four inches of water.

It had a cargo box over all that would permit a man to stand upright in the center, and roofed over so as to protect the freight from rain, &c.

A plank about sixteen inches wide on each side the whole length, with slats nailed across the plank to prevent the feet of the men from slipping when pushing, while poling up the stream.

This boat was built at Pittsburg, Penn., by some men who wanted to move to Wisconsin near the Kickapoo river. They floated down the Ohio river and hired a steamboat to tow them up the Mississippi and Wisconsin rivers.

The present captain, Elliott, bought it and loaded it with corn to be delivered to the garrison at Fort Winnebago, now Portage City, at the portage between the Fox river and the Wisconsin river.

The captain had a contract with the government to deliver corn there. He loaded at Alton or St. Louis, and was towed up the river until the steamboat could not go farther on account of low water, and he was left some miles below the portage.

He hired as many men as he could get, and some Indians, but could not make headway against the current, and was obliged to tie up and send a man down the river to Prairie du Chien for more men.

His man hired the number required and borrowed a large canoe of Joseph Ronlitte, and thej^ paddled up to the keel boat, and then the labor began.

Lucius S. Moskley

So they eordelled by having a long rope fast to the boat and the men walked along the river bank, but in many places they could not v^^alk along the bank, as the bank was steep and bluff, and timber and other obstructions.

They finally cleared a space inside the cargo box and put up an upright windlass, and then run out a long rope, and made fast to a tree and wound up with their windlass in the boat. Although this was a very slow way, it was the only possible way for them to pass some points where the water was deep and swift. In due time the corn was delivered at Fort Winnebago, and then he started for home down the river.

The empty boat ran down the Wisconsin without trouble or accident. They found some pine boards that were lost from a raft that was wrecked on an island. The raft was owned by Whitney, the first lumberman on the Wisconsin river.

We loaded the canoe with lead, and ran down until we found a place to pile it, where the keel boat could land at and take it on board again.

As the river was low and none of the men were acquainted with the channel, we were often aground and had to lighten to get off another bar. We made slow progress, and arrived at the mouth of the river on Saturday noon, so we were all the week coming down, when we ought to have run it in one day.

As usual, in case of too many guides, while disputing as to the channel we would be aground on a sand bar. Finally the captain said, one should be pilot for one day and we would run as he said, and if we stuck, another should be pilot, and no one should dispute or disobey him. After that we got along much better.

We landed on the south side, and all but one went up to the town of Prairie du Chien. We found the town filled with Indians, who had come for the money and goods promised them in payment for the land lately treated for.

As some of the Indians were dissatisfied with the treaty, and refused to come in, but threatened trouble, Governor Dodge sent out runners to tell them to come in and get their pay, and if they committed any murders, that he would come out after them and take their scalps as long as he could carry scalps, and then he would take their ears. They knew him too well to risk their ears, and came in and took the promised payment.

While we were there the Indians held a begging dance, going from one store or saloon or house and dance, and then pass a dish or hat for contributions.

Myself and my hired man concluded to remain on the boat and go to St. Louis. The captain bought some supplies and we returned to the boat that evening, excepting two of our crew, named Brown and one called Kentuck. We cast loose early next morning, and floated down the Mississippi, and took what was called the Cassville slough, as the captain said it was better than to keep the main channel.

We were so far from the channel that a steamboat passed us without our hearing her cough or steam escape. When we came in sight of Cassville, we saw our men Brown and Kaintuck sitting on the levee, waiting for us, as they passed us on a steamboat.

As this narrative is calculated to give one an idea of the men and manners of the times, I will give a short sketch of each of the crew as far as I knew. The captain, Elliott, was an Irishman and had been long on the rivers.

He told me that he used to send keel boats up the Mississippi and Missouri rivers and the crews from the Missouri would return healthy and robust, but those of the Mississippi would often have the ague or fever.

Although the water of the Missouri is muddy and looks unfit to drink, it is more healthy than the Mississippi. The captain continued the river trade until steamboats began to be used there, when he built one and ran it until it accidentally burned,

I was told that the captain stood heroically by his passengers and crew until all were safely taken off and he was the last man that left the boat. As the loss of his steamer reduced his means, he could only buy one keel boat and commenced again by taking contracts to supply corn, etc., to some garrisons.

Our supercargo was named Young. He was from Ohio, and came to the lead mines about six years before. He told me that he struck mineral in the first hole that he sunk when he commenced prospecting for lead. He worked his mine for four years and then it gave out. He then prospected one year with the help of one man all the time, and much of the time two, before he struck mineral again.

He worked his last strike about one year, and fearing it would give out, he sold it and invested all his money in lead. Having run this to St. Louis and sold it, he bought a drove of hogs, drove them to the lead mines and sold them, then returned to his native town, bought a home and mined no more.

My father, brother and Lewis and myself went to vote. It was to elect members to the legislature, and the candidates were H. F. Jones and E. V. Whiton, so well known afterwards as a member of the house and council, and as a lawyer and judge. Jones was the proprietor of the town, and well known, but Whiton was elected.

After casting our votes, we were ready, and asked Lewis if he had voted yet. He very innocently replied no, for neither of them had treated yet.

I knew nothing of Kaintuck, as he left us to go over on Turkey river, prospecting for mineral as lead ore (Galena), it was universally called. Frenchy was a Canadian, and a merry one, a good waterman and pleasant companion. The other one had been a soldier and gained some notoriety, and as it was obtained in an unusual way, I will give his history.

His name was Hagerman. He was born near the Hudson river, below Albany, and when eighteen years old he took a notion to marry a neighbor's daughter, but was certain that his father would oppose it. So he worked quite well and pleased the old man, so that he told his boy that he would make him a pair of fine boots, as he was a shoemaker.

The boy went into the shop where the boots were being made and the old man was in good humor. The boy thought it a good time to tell him of his intended marriage.

As soon as the old man was told, he sprung up in a rage and threw the boots across the shop and swore that he would never finish them. The boy left the shop and ran to the nearest boat landing, and went aboard the first boat for New York, and they were enlisting men there for the army under General Scott, to come west and fight Black Hawk. Hagerman enlisted and they soon started for the West to suppress the Indians.

In due time they arrived in Chicago, and the cholera was among them, and their progress was slow, but they reached Rock Island, and were still there when General Atkinson, of the regular army, and Dodge, of Wisconsin, and Henry and Alexander, of Illinois, closed the war at the battle of Bad Ax, August 2, 1832.

While at Rock Island, Hagerman was put on picket guard for the first time, and as he had never seen an Indian, but had heard many stories of their bloody work, he was very timorous and much excited. He was stationed at the upper end of the island, near some small bush, and the night was unusually dark and made him more afraid.

He had the usual instructions as to challenge and firing, if necessary. He told me that as soon as the corporal left him, instead of pacing his beat, he stood as still as possible, as he was fearful that some Indian would send an arrow into him.

After a short time, he heard a slight noise in the thicket like a man stepping carefully among the brush and grass. He waited a short time until he was so nervous that he decided he would fire on it. He made ready to fire, but could scarcely hold his gun, but did not say a word, and fired at the place where the intruder was stepping. Hagerman 's fire brought out the guard and enquired what was the trouble. But he said he did not know what he shot at. So they looked among the brush and found a beautiful pony that belonged to the colonel, shot through the heart with a ball and three buck-shot.

This made him quite famous among his comrades, and the colonel too, although the pony was a great pet. That was the only shot that he made while in the service. So he gained credit for bravery by an excess of cowardice. Such is fame.

When his term of service expired, he was discharged in Chicago, found that the family of his girl were there, or near there, went to them, married the girl and engaged in driving stage for a living.

Eemixiscences Of I. T. Smith 217

When waked up he was on a schooner and half way to Green bay, and had enlisted again. The old soldiers had induced him to enlist and they went aboard for Green bay, and from there to Fort "Winnebago, at the portage.

His people had no idea what had become of him, and of course he was anxious to be released. He gained the sympathy of Captain Lowe and an effort was made to get him discharged.

As the papers had to be sent to Washington, and mail facilities were not good, it took a long time and he had to do duty the same as others.

One day he was sent out with a party to cut wood for the garrison, and as they cut large trees, they used powder to split the logs open. He put in a charge of powder, and lit the fuse, but it seemed to him that it was not going off, so he went up to see what was wrong, and just then the explosion took place. One half of the log struck him on the thigh and broke the bone, and held him down. His comrades made a litter and carried him to the hospital, and that night his discharge came.

The other man, named Brown, was born near Dayton, Ohio, and while a boy used to ride horses to tow boats on the canal. He was naturally resolute and fearless, was very active, but always civil, would not give any one rough language, nor would he take it from any one. Brown told me that a man named Gleason and himself kept a saloon close to the lines of the reservation, and right on the bank of the Wisconsin river, where it makes a bend and is quite deep. They sold whiskey to Indians or soldiers, and it gave the officers some trouble and made them hostile towards Gleason and himself. The officers thought the easiest way to get rid of the saloon was to allow the soldiers to break it up. So they gave a squad of six or more leave to go and drink all they liked, and then destroy what whiskey was left. The soldiers came in and called for whiskey, and he set it out for them, and they drank often, but would not pay anything, and Brown soon caught on to their scheme and went into a back room where Gleason was sleeping. He waked him and told him what was up, and each took an ax-handle and went out and hit as many as they could, and soon had the room clear of soldiers, except two, who were senseless on the floor, and they dragged them out and closed the door.

He said he could hear the soldiers' feet on the frozen ground as they ran for the fort. It was not long until a squad came back for the two who were unable to get up. He heard them fussing with them and finally got them off. This made the officers more determined to get rid of them. An Indian told BrowTi that he knew where there was lead on the other side of the river, back a few miles where there were many small hills. As lead is much sought after, and the story seemed plausible, Brown went with him to find the lead, and was to give the Indian something for his showing the place. They crossed in a canoe and traveled some miles, but found no sign of lead, and Brown began to suspect a trick was put up by the officers. After a little he missed the Indian, and then he was certain of treachery, and turned back for the portage. Pretty soon he saw another Indian, and soon another. He walked fast, and was followed fast, and when he could not get away from them by walking, he struck into a run, and they after him, some six or seven of them. Brown was an unusually active man, and the Indians could not overtake him, but were in sight, and when he came to the river where he left his boat, that was gone; but he had to cross, so he plunged in and swam across, although the slush and ice were running in the river.

As he said that their cabin was close to the river where the water was deep, it is likely that those Indians were put in there, for he told me that not one of these that chased him ever came in to a payment.

He said if a man's bowels were taken out and a round stone put into their place and well tied so it would not slip out, he thought that would keep the body on the bottom, and if he were looking for those Indians, he would look in that deep place just back of the cabin.

When we found Brown and Kaintuck at Cassville, we noticed that Brown was lame and that the flesh was purple about the great toe. and when we inquired what caused it, he told us of a skirmish he had in town, and Kaintuck corroborated his account of the evening gambling and the morning fight and flight from town.

Eemixiscexces Of I. T. Smith 219

We left Brown and Kaintuck in town, as they met some Portage friends and wanted to have a visit and gamble some, and would bring some bread for us that was not quite ready when we left. Brown played until hie lost thirty dollars on roulette, and then quit playing and called all up to the bar to drink or smoke.

He paid, and started to go. and at the door met another portage man. so he took him up to have a parting glass with him. They filled their glasses and the friend drank his, but Brown was in no hurry and let his stand while he talked with his friend, and a Du Chien gambler reached around slyly, and took the glass and drank the liquor. That was an insult that in most cases would be resented with a blow, but as he was going away, he let it pass and poured out some more and drank. Then the Du Chien man raised the front of Brown's hat, and said, "Are you from the Portage?"

Of course he expected that this would be followed up with a general row, but as there were as many in the room from Portage as the home men, they quieted it, and Brown and Kaintuck went to the hotel and then to bed.

When they got up in the morning, and while Brown's back was toward the stairs, four men came into the room, and one of them struck Brown before he knew of their being there.

When Brown was hit, the man said, "Resent that if you are from Portage." The blow did not knock Brown down, but blinded him for a short time, and he just stood still and winked until his sight returned, and then he wheeled and let out with his left hand and floored his assailant.

Then he kicked him and clapped his thumb in the fellow's eye and took it completely out of his head and left it hanging on his cheek. Kaintuck said he must get out of this, and ran down stairs, and left Brown with three men against him. He hit one and got past two, but had to back down to fend off blows. He got one at the bottom of the stairs, and kept backing into the street, when the last one rushed up, fearing he would turn and run, whereupon Brown gave him a kick that laid him flat.

the boat. The landlord met him on the porch with a pistol in his hand and ordered him to stop, as he had sent for the sheriff to have him arrested. Brown drew a large pocket knife and made a slash at the landlord and cut his vest open across the breast ; then the landlord ran into the house and Brown walked in and took his sack of bread and just got started for the boat when the sheriff came up and told him he must wait until the surgeon of the garrison examined the first man, who was still lying on the floor of the hotel, up stairs.

The surgeon put his eye back and revived him, but would not make any report until he talked with Brown about it, and was told how it commenced, and the attack by four in his room. The surgeon said, "I will make a report to the sheriff and he will release you, but the only thing that this fellow will see with that eye is his mistake in attacking you."