Pewaukee City (part 3 of 3)

While the oxen were unable to work that spring (1837), my husband dug some ground with a spade to make a small garden, and hearing that a schooner loaded with potatoes had come to Milwaukee, he walked in, bought half a bushel, paid $2.50 for them, and brought them home on his back, eighteen miles. He went in one day, and came back the next, and was about tired out. He said it seemed as if he had come to Wisconsin to be a pack-horse, or to take the place of one. Some people in these times will scarcely believe that potatoes were ever sold at $5 a bushel in Wisconsin. But it was so at that time, and the merchant would, and did extort just such exorbitant prices for everything they knew the settlers most needed. But no one would buy more than one bushel of potatoes at $5 a bushel, and some would buy only a peck.

It was with potatoes the same as with grain of all kinds. By the time that farmers could raise grain and have any to sell, it would fetch scarcely enough to pay for the time spent to get it ready for sale and taking it to market. In many cases it did not come anywhere near paying them, but they were obliged to put up with it, for the merchants had their own way, and paid their own price for produce. The potatoes were planted, except a meal or two, which we could not forego the pleasure of eating, having been without any vegetables for nearly three months, and they were quite a luxury at the time, dearly bought and far fetched.

We got through the winter of 1837-38 better than we expected, not being able to raise anything of any account except on our poor little gardens, but managed to get bread and meat, and other groceries. Toward spring, Mr. Elliott and my husband had a chance to take a job of cutting logs and splitting rails. They had to go about nine miles into the timber towards Milwaukee, and take their provision with them for the week, or from Monday morning till Saturday night. We cooked their provision at home, except their tea and coffee, which they had with two young men that lived in a cabin and cooked for themselves, and who very kindly gave them such accommodation as they had. They cut and split the rails for fifty cents a hundred, and had to take their pay at a provision store in Milwaukee, and had to go or send by some one else, to get it. But there were five weeks in succession during the time they were at their job, that the road was so bad that teams could scarcely get through to Milwaukee. When they did, they could not bring much at a load. Our two men had to quit their work every Friday afternoon, soon enough to walk into Milwaukee, and start for home as early as they could in the morning, with as much flour and meat (with a few other necessary things) as they could carry eighteen miles to our place and a mile farther to Mr. Elliott's. It would be night, and they would be about tired out, and while 'they were resting on Sunday we had to cook their week's rations for them to take back with them when they went to their work on Monday. What was worse, and very mortifying to their feelings, one of those five times that they had to back their loads home, there was no provision for them. The man that they worked for was gone from home, and there was nothing for them in store. They were told by the clerk that they were expecting a vessel to come in that day, but it had not got in yet. It was loaded with provisions, and they thought that it would be in that night or early in the morning, so that they could have something to carry home with them. But the morning came and there was no vessel in sight, and they waited as long as they thought it would do to wait, and have time to get home that night, as it was Saturday, and they expected we should be out of the requisite for cooking at home, and supposed our neighbors were nearly, if not quite, as short of the needful as we were. For that reason they did not like to go home without anything, and risk the chance of borrowing, for fear of distressing the neighbors, knowing that they would lend as long as they had enough of anything to divide. They knew not what to do. They had not money to go to any other store, and they could not get an order, as the head man was not at home. While they were talking, a friend came to them, and to him they told their dilemma, and he advised them to go to the store of Messrs. Brown & Miller, where there was plenty of provision in store for any one that needed it and had no money to buy. They thought that looked too much like begging. But he persuaded them, and told them that it was no disgrace, and they would never be thought the less of for it. So they took his advice and the friend went with them, stated the case to those gentlemen, and they told them to come forward and have what they wanted of such as they had in store, and welcom ; they expressed their thankfulness, but told them that they did not come to beg, and would pay for what they got as soon as they could. They said we shall not take pay if you do bring it; our instructions are to give to those that need, and not to sell. When you are able, if you see an opportunity to assist others, do so ; that is all the pay that will ever be required of you. l^ow, would you like to have some garden seeds, said they ; and they gave them of all kinds in their store. They came home in the evening very tired, and ready for their supper, which I had ready and waiting for them. Tired as they were, they told me of their ttial and disappointment, and the kindness they had received ; that they did not expect to find any bread in either of their houses, until we could bake something from the flour that they brought. Then I had to tell them how and in what way I had been supplied. Three of our neighbors had joined teams, and had been to town, with only one wagon, and bought some flour and meat and a few groceries, and by that means I had been supplied, for they returned things that we had lent to them.

In my new home I undertook to do all my work - washing, ironing and sewing, besides my every-day work, taking care of my three children (the youngest then a year and a half old), and teaching three hours each half-day, according to custom, and not take a day except each alternate Saturday. I soon found that I could not manage both my school and my work without taking one day out of each week, so I concluded to take Monday, do my washing, and as much other necessary work as I could in a day, and teach the remaining five days. ' Not having a very strong constitution, my duties were rather severe on me during the week, for both body and mind: yet I enjoyed doing duty, because I was anxious to play my part well in doing what I hoped would be- to the advantage of others as well as ourselves.

I suppose that many young mothers and housekeepers of the present time would marvel at the idea of a woman undertaking to do her own work for a family of six, and, at the same time, teach a school of twenty scholars in the same room, which was only twelve by fourteen feet in size. But as necessity was then, and had been, and perhaps always will be, the mother of many inventions, we found that by patience and perseverance it could be done, at least for a few months. At the end of four months, I found it necessary to give up my school, so as to take time to do my fall work and prepare my family for the coming winter. We had no more school for a year, except on Sundays. We opened again, after a short time, the door of our little cabin for Sunday school, in which little children were taught to read and spell, and older ones that could read learned Testament lessons, and repeated to teachers who gave them instructions according to their ability. With the addition of prayers and singing, the exercises of from two to three hours passed very pleasantly, and, as we then thought, profitably to ourselves and our children.

As soon as our corn was glazed and partially hardened, that fall of 1838, so that we could finish drying it by laying it in the sun in the daytime, and in the house at night, we picked off a little at a time and dried it in that way, and had some ground every day for two months, by hand, in a cofiee-mill, except on Sunday. It was such slow work to grind by hand that we could not get any more ahead than would do for Sunday, and with the meal thus prepared we made all of our bread (or johnnycake) for two or three weeks ; then the buckwheat was ripened, so that some of that could be thrashed, and we dried some of that in the same way as we did the corn, and had it ground in the same way, and had to sift it instead of having it bolted, and with it we made something we called buckwheat cakes. Although not as fine and nice as we had been accustomed to using, yet it made a very good change under the circumstances. We did not expect to grind our flour and meal by hand as long as two months, when we commenced the arduous task. There was a mill in process of building at the place now known as Wauwatosa, but as the mill was not ready to commence operations by the expected time - although the task of grinding by hand was very tedious - we concluded to persevere and not give up until the mill should be in working order, which was two months instead of two weeks. Our indignation had become so thoroughly aroused, in consequence of being obliged to pay such exorbitant prices for our bread material as well as everything else that we had to buy of the Milwaukee dealers, that we were not willing to humor them any more than we were really obliged to. Mr. George Elliott, of Lisbon, Waukesha County, can testify concerning the grinding by hand for two months, nearly all of the material which we used for bread and cakes, for he was our little faithful home miller, and a younger brother of his was the miller for his father's family, and Mr. Smith's young boys did the grinding for his family. One of them is still living, and well remembers the time and circumstance. There were several of our neighbors that shared in the work and trial of grinding their own breadstuff by hand. I do not remember just how many, but there were six of us, I can remember, who did do it for two months.

Perhaps some one, or more, who never saw a wooden kettle, and it may be never heard of one of that kind before, would like to know how it was made. Our wooden kettle was eighteen inches wide and about three feet long. The wood part of it was made of plank, and nailed together in the form of a box. This was bottomed with sheet-iron wide and long enough to turn over on the ends and sides, so that the fire should not touch the wood. Then it was set over a stone fireplace, which was built sufliciently long and wide to allow the box to be bedded all around with stone and mortar to protect the wood. A capacious fireplace underneath with a chimney at the extremity, and a wooden cover to the kettle, completed the concern. Although it was a rude, rustic-looking article, and was the object and occasion of much laughter, the wooden kettle was, nevertheless, found to be so useful and convenient under the circumstances in which we were placed in those early days, that it came to be an indispensable article until such times as we could afford to buy a cauldron. I have thought of late that if a specimen of those home-made kettles should be sent to the Centennial, it might excite as much curiosity as many things that will be sent there.

After we had the Sunday-school established in our house, we began to hold religious meetings, and although we had no minister to preach to us, we met once in two weeks, sometimes at the house of one neighbor and sometimes at another, for a few months. Then we got out of our small cabin into a larger and more comfortable one, and as we happened to have a more commodious room, the meetings were held there until the district schoolhouse was built, which was more than two years after.

One of our neighbors, a well disposed and religious man, took the lead in our religious services, except occasionally some minister would chance to come into the neighborhood, or pass through the little settlement, stopping over night. As soon as it was known that there was a minister in the place, who would stay long enough for the people to get word of it, it mattered not whether he was a Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Congregationalist or Episcopalian, every one who could possibly leave home - even if they had to appear in their every-day clothing, which was frequently the case - would lay aside their pride, and come together to unite in the services and listen to the sermon, whether it was Sunday or a week day, and all, or nearly all, seemed to enjoy it as a rare treat. When we had no minister, our religious services were conducted in the same manner as when we had one - by praying, Bible reading, singing and the reading of a sermon. We always had two sermons on Sunday, the first commencing at halfpast 10 and the second at half-past 1, or sometimes 2 o'clock, and the Sunday school between those two services, and a prayer meeting at 5 o'clock.

Thus our time was taken up on Sunday. It was all that I could do to get my necessary work done, myself and family in readiness to attend worship, and have seats placed, before some of the people would begin to come in.

It has been put in print that the first sermon preached, in Lisbon was by a Mr. Frink, in 1838, but that was a mistake. Mr. Lucius Bottsford and Miss Lucinda Denny were the first couple married in Lisbon. The ceremony was performed by Elder Grrifiin, at the residence of Mr. Jonathan Dougherty, Sr., on the 3d of June, 1839, after the preaching of the first sermon in the town of Lisbon. In the month of August following, there was another sermon preached in the same house by the Rev. Mr. Ordway, Congregationalist. Then in the following winter, about the middle of January, 1840, came the Rev. Mr. Frink (Methodist), and preached the first sermon that he preached in our place, in our house. Our cabin was filled with people that had come with their oxen and sleds, some of them from five miles distant in difl"erent directions. It was good sleighing (or sledding, as they called it), but it was very cold, and they had to sit down among the straw or marsh hay, which was plentifully laid in the sled box. They had no fine, fleet horses and gay looking pleasure sleighs out in country places in those days, but had to be contented and satisfied to be drawn on the same sled and by the same horned-horses (oxen I mean) that drew their wood, hay and grain. There was no ringing of the musical sleigh bells, such as we had been in the habit of hearing, to cheer and enliven them on the long, slow, cold ride ; yet they were very cheerful and sang hymns as they rode along, making the air and the woods ring with the music of their voices, and they seemed as eager to hear what the minister had to say to them as hungry people would be to go to a feast.

In the month of March came Elder Wheelock, a Methodist preacher. He came two or three evenings for a time, and then he was hired to come and preach once in two weeks, on Sunday, for a year. He was the first minister that was hired in Lisbon. He was more than sixty years of age, and he used to walk fourteen miles every other Saturday, getting to our house in the afternoon, perform his duties on Sunday, and walk home on Monday. Sometimes, however, he might get a ride a part of the way, but not frequently, for he did not own a horse, neither was there one in our immediate neighborhood. His salary was the small sum of eighty dollars - small enough, certainly. To some people at the present' time it would not seem worth mentioning, and that the people were thoughtless and penurious not to allow him a larger sum for coming so far to serve them; yet that small sum was all they were able to pay. The reverend father was satisfied, for he knew just how we were all situated. It was, perhaps, well for us in many respects that we lived in those days, and shared with our neighbors and friends the trials and hardships of new country life, as well as the joys and pleasures, for there certainly was enjoyment even then. It was as much of a pleasure to visit our neighbors and friends who were not related to us, and to receive visits from them, as it had been to visit and receive visits from our own relatives when we had lived near arid among them. In the earliest pare of our new country experience we did not invite large parties, for the want of sufiicient room and other conveniences to make it pleasant and comfortable for a large party of friends. But whenever neighbors could make it convenient to visit each other they were cordially welcomed, treated kindly, and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. Such traits were characteristic of the people of our early settlement. There was no dazzling splendor in those days, in the way of furniture, dress, ornaments, or the viands of the table. No one tried to outdo another. They could not if they would, but they did not show any such inclination. One of those days, when I was alone with my children I took my water pail in haste to go about twenty-five rods to the stream for water, and when about three rods from the door, I saw a wolf coming up the path only a few rods from me, as if coming to meet me. The wolf at the same time saw me, and we both halted suddenly and stared each other in the face for some minutes, but presently, I bethought myself that I had a tin pail and dipper in my hand. Then with the dipper I beat vehemently against the pail, and he turned and started off a few steps, then slackened his pace and looked back at me again, and as I had no other means of frightening him, kept beating the pail with the dipper, and after a little time he turned and left the path. It was not until he was fairly out of sight that I ventured to go for the water.

Although now a resident of Rock County (at Beloit), I was for many years one of the pioneers of the county of Waukesha. The name never fails to bring to mind many pleasant recollections, and the images of scores -of true friends. The history of themselves and the county deserve to be indelibly recorded.

farm now owned by A. V. B. Dey. I was married August 12, 1838, at the residence of Deacon Robert Love, whose house stood about four rods east of what is now Bethesda Springs. There were present Mr. and Mrs. Robert Love and their five children - Jerome, Sarah, Mary, Adelaide and Martha - Mr. and Mrs. Morriss Barnett, now living in Neenah, Wis., and, perhaps, others. The ceremony was performed by John Manderville, for the reason that our minister - Rev. Mr. Ordway - had his license "packed among his goods, which were on their way up the lakes. I was done up good and strong, so the knot has held fast nearly forty-two years. I think mine was the first marriage * in what is now Waukesha County. There were no cards, no presents ; but Deacon Love took his pitcher and can to hia spring, now Bethesda - which he always thought so much of - and passed the spring water around in the place of wine. The next morning he harnessed his horses to his lumber wagon and landed us at our door, in quite as good style as Gov. Dodge was escorted from the beach of Lake Michigan up to the Milwaukee House (which was upon a load of trunks) and he rode backward, to assume the Governorship of the Territory of Wisconsin.

In addition to being a party to the first marriage, I claim to have erected in Waukesha County the first threshing machine built in the State of Wisconsin.

I was born in the year 1818, in Genesee County, N. Y.; my father and mother moved from that county and located in Cattaraugus County when I was twelve years old, and then in 1836, I started West to find a home ; I traveled from Cattaraugus County through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan and Illinois, and reached Milwaukee the 23d of April, 1836. During my journey, which was on foot, I carried a valise that weighed twenty-five pounds on my back. Some days I traveled in Michigan all day, and did not find more than two or three houses, and poor ones at that; I often got tired and homesick, but kept on till I found Wisconsin. When I came to Milwaukee, there .were but very few inhabitants in the place ; no schools, no churches, in fact, nothing but a swamp of tamarack, with but few settlers in the town. After taking a rest, I fell in with a party of surveyors that were going out, and I went with them. On the 15th of May, 1836, I located in the town of Lisbon, on the southeast quarter of Section 25. To-day makes me forty-four years the owner of the same, it being the first claim made in the town. When I look back on the past, and see such a city as Milwaukee, with its schools, churches, hotels and warehouses, together with residences, banks, and the Chamber of Commerce, and railroads and telegraph lines leading in every direction, it often seems to me that it is not possible I have lived to see all the vast improvements that have taken place in this State within the space of forty-four years. When I took up my claim, the land from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi was nearly all in a state of nature, and to-day it is all under a state of cultivation, dotted over with farmhouses and fine villages, with schools and churches ranking second to those of no State in the Union. I am very sorry to say that most all of my old neighbors have passed away. There are but very few left to tell the hardships of settling a new country, without railroads or anything but an ox team and wagon to carry freight with through swamps and over corduroy roads. Some people complain of the roads at the present day ; but if some of the old pioneers could come back on earth and see the roads at the present time, they would not find any fault. When the town of Lisbon was first settled, it usually took two days to make the trip to Milwaukee, a distance of sixteen miles, over logs and through the mud, fording streams and camping out one night on the. road. There were no horses, no buggies, nothing but the faithful ox. We may all thank God for the ox. If it had not been for him I do not know what we should have done. Provisions were high, and no grain had been raised to feed the horse ; but the ox was worked all day, then turned loose to pick his own food at night. There was plenty of wild feed through the summer, and during the winter we fed marsh hay to our stock. We generally thought it good living for our cattle, taking into consideration the way we used to live ourselves.

When we raised the first crops, there were no mills, and our corn was either hulled or ground in a coiFee-mill for making johnnycakes. We took turns at the mill nights to grind for the use of the family the following day. When Wisconsin was first settled, we had every obstacle to contend with. First, we had no market for our produce. There was no outlet for it, except home consumption. The first log houses that were built are very nearly all gone. There is now and then one left to mark the first settlement of the county. I could fill out a volume with events, but it might not interest any one to read it. One thought more, and 1 close : I attended the first wedding that took place in the town of Lisbon. There were no gilt cards, no presents ; but we had a good big johnnycake passed around, and we wished them all the good things of this life the same as they do nowadays. After the ceremony, the young couple took their wedding tour home behind a yoke of oxen, just as happy as could be.

I was born in the town of AUgusta, county of Oneida and State of New York, and had always lived there until I was twenty -four years old. My husband was born in England, and lived there until he was twenty-two. After our marriage, he often had a touch of the Western fever (as the phrase was in those days) ; but it did not meet my mind, exactly, to leave the old place, with all of the comforts and conveniences and high privileges that we enjoyed, neither could I make up my mind to leave my parents, brothers and sisters, and many other relatives and friends, until the summer of 1836, when we had a flattering account of Wisconsin, and particularly of Milwaukee, sent to us by a brother-in-law of my husband that went to Milwaukee from our place in the spring. He seemed to think that he had found the right place, just the place for young people to commence' life in earnest; in fact, it seemed to him an earthly paradise. My husband made up his mind almost immediately to settle his afiairs and make ready, as fast as possible, to move, and to try his fortune in the "Far West," as it was then called. Therefore, on the 1st day of September, 1836, we left our parents,, brothers, sisters, other relatives, friends and neighbors, and bid good-bye to our old home and to all that was near and dear to us, and, with our small children, a son and a daughter, we started on our journey. Slow and tedious was the way of traveling in those days, compared with the faster and much more comfortable way of the present. On the 27th, about 12 p'clock, midnight, we were a mile from Milwaukee. As late as it was, we had to go ashore in a small row-boat, which went three times from the schooner to the shore to take passengers and goods. We went the second time. There was no harbor or pier, and the sailors rowed as near as they could and then jumped on shore, with a rope in hand, and pulled the boat close to the shore, helping the rest of us to land; and there we were, with our two little children, on the beach of the lake, a long way from a house or any building, and so dark that we could scarcely see to walk on the beach and keep clear of the lake. We took our children, each of us one, in our arms, and walked half a mile right along close by the lake, the thunder growing louder and nearer. We came to a small log house, where lived three families ; but they were all in bed by the time that we got there. We rapped at the door, and a man called out to know what was wanted. My husband answered that he had just been landed from a schooner, with his wife and two children, and would like to get shelter the rest of the night. A lady let us in, the only man at home being lame and could not get out of bed. They were kind enough to give us shelter, but had no bed for us ; so my husband went back to where we had landed and brought a loose bed, and got bacik with it before it rained very hard. As there was no one living where we wanted to make our claim, we had to remain through the winter with my husband's brother-in-law, near Milwaukee.

We expected to pay for our land that fall, but as it was not in the market, we could not ; but as we found provisions and everything that we needed so much dearer than we had been used to paying, we found it necessary to use all of our ready money before we could raise anything on our land. We paid $16 for a barrel of white fish and $32 for a barrel of pork ; $6 a hundred for beef by taking the half of one animal ; butter 25 cents, and not fit to eat, so we did not buy any for awhile, but used a jar of it that we brought from the East, and then went without any for two months. At the end of that time, there was a man came from Illinois with a sleigh-load of nice butter that he sold for two-and-sixpence, as we used to count money then. The merchants sold what they called good butter at the same time for five shillings a pound ; very poor brown sugar, 18 cents ; a little better kind, 20, and loaf sugar 25 cents a pound. Tea, cofifee and spices were also dear accordingly, and went up in price when navigation closed. About the middle of winter, flour had to be brought by teams from Chicago, and those who had to buy then had to pay $20 a barrel. We paid f 1 a bushel for potatoes, and 50 cents for turnips. Clothing was very dear, but we had supplied ourselves so well that we did not need much for two years, and by that time it was a little more reasonable. My husband went to work at $2 a day, the third day after we landed, and worked until he earned $120, sometimes with carpenters and sometimes with masons. There were a good many men out of employment that would have been glad to have had work to do. Our men bought some oxen and got a chance to draw wood for the steamboats. They had to pay $22 a ton for hay, $2 a bushel for oats, and $2.50 for corn. Their job of hauling wood lasted about three weeks, and then they went out through the woods and began to build a log house. It was eighteen miles to their claims, so they would take provisions for a week and then come home and get more and go again. It was very cold, and they found it very slow business to get even a log house built. They had to saw all the boards they used by hand, and it took three men four weeks, including the time that it took to go to and from the place, and break their road through snow and cut trees and brush, so that they could get through with oxen and sleds. The third man was a neighbor that was going to live near us. When they had got one house so that they thought we oould live in it, we moved, three families into the house, and all lived together four weeks. One of our neighbors fixed up a claim shanty, as they called it, and moved his family into it, on the same day that we moved, that being the 4th day of March, 1837. We were a mile and a half apart, and could not see each others' cabins.

There were no houses all through the woods, as we went to our new home in the opening beyond, except the Half-way House, as our men called it ; but it was only a place where a man had cut down a few trees and laid up some logs, as if for a house about twelve feet square, just to save his claim. There was no roof, not even rafters, but a few pieces of bark, and a little brush laid over at one corner. There was a doorway, but no door. There were some pieces of flat stone laid up against the logs in one corner, and as our men went to and fro once a week, for four weeks, they would stop there and give their oxen some grain, and as there was none there to entertain them, they would entertain themselves in the best possible manner. They would enter this wayside inn, build a fire in the corner, where stood those flat stones, and boil their tea-kettle, which they always carried with them, make tea or coff'ee, and take their lunch of bread, cold meat and some pie and cake, and such things as we could cook and put up for them. When they had finished their meal and warmed themselves as well as they could, and their teams had rested and fed, they would drive along again on their lonely road, never meeting or overtaking any one.

Waukesha was originally called " Prairie Village." Afterward, the Legislature changed it to " Prairieville," and after the county was set off from Milwaukee, it was changed to Waukesha. The first white settlers were Messrs. M. D. and A. R. Cutler and Henry Luther. They came here in the spring of 1834, not very long after the close of the "Black Hawk war." At that time, the land had been purchased of the Indians; yet, in accordance with the treaty, they remained in possession of it up to the summer of 1836, when it was surveyed by the General Government. The Messrs. Cutler built the first "log cabin " in this town in the year 1834. It was located near where Messrs. Blair & Smith's machine-shop now stands. Mr. Manderville at that time made a "claim" on what is now the "school section." Mr. Luther claimed the land where Mr. Meyer now resides, on Section 20, in this town. These are the only settlers who came here that year. At that time, large tribes of Indians were located in this county. Their headquarters were at this place ; yet their wigwams were scattered up and down the Fox River (or Pish-ta-ka, as they called it), from Mukwonago to Pewaukee Lake ; and for the first two or three years, they were a great annoyance to the white settlers. There being no fences, the settlers' cattle would often get among the Indians' corn fields, and caused much trouble. The Indians, being legally in possession of the land, and having the numbers and power to rule, would demand such damages as they saw fit ; and upon one occasion claimed and received of the Messrs. Cutler a fat ox for the damage he had done their corn. In the spring of 1835, Mr. McMillan and family came and built a cabin where the court-house now stands. Mr. A. C. Nickell and Dr. Cornwall located on the south part of the farm now owned by Mr. Nickell. Mr. Ira Stewart located on what is now known as the " Cushman farm," and Messrs Isaac and Richard Smart located where they now live. These were the only settlers who came that year. During the summer and fall of 1836, Mr. Murray located on what is now William White's farm. Messrs. Nelson and Thomas H. Olin located on what is now known as the "Gale farm." Mr. Sergeant located on the west side of the river, near the water-power. Soon afterward, this town was surveyed, when it seemed that the Messrs. Cutler, McMillan and Sergeant were all on one quarter-section, where the village and mills are now located. This, for some length of time, was a bone of contention, all being anxious to " claim " the water-power. In the fall of that year, Nathaniel Walton, with his family, located where they still reside, near this village. Up to this time, Mrs. McMillan was the only white woman in this part of the country ;* consequently there was no tea-table gossip at that time. Mr. McMillan's cabin, which was about 16x24 feet, was the only public house in the place, and an interesting spot it was, too. At that time, we were located at Milwaukee, and came out here often. Upon one occasion, we stopped, with twelve others, at this hotel over night, there being but one room and two beds in the house. We have often seen the hogs occupy the inside of the house, and the whisky barrel placed on the outside to make room. If a landlord at that time could raise a barrel of flour, pork and whisky, it was all that was necessary for a first-class hotel. In short, tavern-keeping was more an act of necessity than choice with many, as the settlements were so few and far between that they were compelled to keep all travelers that came, regardless of their means of accommodation, as all preferred sleeping on a floor to a bed, or on a blanket in the open flelds, as we were often compelled to do. In the spring of 1837, we came here to look at a claim owned by Mr. Cutler, which he had then recently purchased of Mr. Luther for $500. We stopped with Mr. Walton, who at that time kept the best house. In the morning, we started on foot, in company with M. D. Cutler, to view the claim - a distance of about four miles. When we came to the river, which at that time was nearly two feet deep, Mr. Cutler commenced fording it. We backed out, and proposed to return to the hotel for our pony ; but Mr. C. insisted on our trying our pedestrian powers in the water, and, after spending some time in consultation, he supplied the place of our pony, and carried us safe through the river. Upon arriving at the claim, we found it to be all our fancy painted, and we soon closed a bargain for it at $1,000, paying in four (paper) city lots, at $250 each. Previous to this time, Orrin Brown had come and located on the quarter-section where the stone quarry is, and Mr. Manderville having found himself, after the survey, on the school section, located on the quarter-section that A. Minor now lives on. In the course of that season, Messrs. E. D. Clinton, Y. Bidwell, Henry Bowron, James Z. Watson, J. M. Wells, J. Rice, J. W. Rossman, E. Churchill, Ezra Mendall, Joel Bidwell, Daniel Thompson, Robert Love, Moses Ordway, Sabina Barney, Asa S. Watson and Peter N. Cushman located on difi'erent claims in this town. This comprised the most of the settlement here in the year 1837.

In the spring of 1838, several new settlers immigrated. Among them were H. N. Davis, James Buckner, Charles Crownheart, Ira Doliver, B. F. Chamberlain, 0. N. Higley, Albert White, James and Edward W. King, I. C. Owen, Daniel Chandler, Allen Clinton, Lyman and B. W. Goodnow, and several others. During that season, James Buckner and Mr. Bowron built what is now a part of the Prairieville House.f Robert Love built a small frame dwellinghouse, and we another. These were the only framed buildingsj in this county at that time.