Chapter Nine

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS AND EARLY REMINISCENCES.

For a dozen or more years after the period of settlement in 1843, great emphasis was given to hunting both for sport and for profit. Quite a number of persons in different parts of the county kept a dozen or more hounds and other dogs for the chase. The bounty on wolf scalps was the chief incentive for hunting that animal. William Frederick, Harry Williams, John Simms and Bu.tler Delashmutt kept a pack of dogs and trained horses to ride on hunting occasions. When these hunters combined their forces for a special effort it furnished excitement and interest for whole neighborhoods for days, both prior to and following the event. It is related that on one of these occasions when several hunters had set a day to unite their forces for a big hunt, Butler Delashmutt was suffering with fever and ague so severely that he found it quite impossible to join the company. The start was made not far from his home, where the pack of hounds struck a fresh wolf trail and their hideous music began. Mr. Delashmutt heard it and was thoroughly versed in its meaning. The spirit of the chase was too strong for him to remain in bed and he arose in spite of the protests of the family and hastened down to the stable and saddled his favorite steed who was chafing to join the fray. Summing his old courage he declared that fever and ague should not conquer him, and was soon in the lead of the cavalcade. The pioneer who related this story to us also stated that the old hunter thoroughly enjoyed the excitement of the day and did not have a shake of the ague again that year.

The Mormon trail was south of Mahaska county, but quite a number of Mormons passed through this county on their slow march to the mountains. They were usually supplied with ox teams for hauling their plunder and conveying the sick and infirm. Many of them died and were buried in shallow and unmarked graves by the wayside. They appreciated kind treatment, but were uncommunicative. Occasionally they would hold meetings in the cabins of the settlers when permitted to do so. Men, women and children went on foot. Sometimes a few individuals pulled a cart or pushed a wheelbarrow. The single thought of reaching a promised land where they should be unmolested in their religious views and practices, dominated the entire life. Mr. Mose Davis, of Harrison township, relates that he was in Council Bluffs early in the fifties and saw the last detachment leave for the west from their settlement just above that city, on the opposite side of the river. They formed a long serpentine trail reaching away across the boundless prairie. Some of them had wheelbarrows, some carts, but all were afoot, the larger number driving ox teams. They were seeking for a city whose builder and maker was Brigham Young, and those who lived through the hardships and drudgery of the journey found it.

It is said that Keokuk with fifty of his braves with their squaws and papooses once visited Nauvoo to smoke their pipes of peace with his "brother," Joseph Smith. In reply to his recitals of their great expectations, the demoralized old chieftain said: "As for the new Jerusalem to which we are all going to emigrate, so far as we are concerned, it depends very much on whether there would be any government annuities, and as far as the 'milk and honey' which was to flow over the land, he was not particular- he much preferred whiskey."

Mrs. Emily J. Correll, who is a daughter of Poultney Loughridge, states that in the very early years when mills were so very far away and flour very scarce, Washington Threldkill dug out a hard wood stump near his cabin so as to form a kind of basin and fastened an iron wedge to the end of a stick, giving it a handle, which he used as a pestle to crush shelled corn. When the corn was thoroughly beaten it was sifted and the fine portion used as meal, while the coarse particles were worked up into hominy. This contrivance proved to be of much value to the neighborhood and people came in good numbers to use it, taking their turn, just as they did at the mill. At one time in 1844 when supplies in the neighborhood were low, her brother, John Loughridge, accompanied a Mr. Thompson to Burlington for mllling and goods. They had two ox teams. There was much rain that season and no bridges as yet in the territory. The oxen swam the streams and the wagons and their contents had to be carried over piece-meal. It was a most tedious and perilous journey and only dire necessity had prompted the undertaking. Eighteen days had passed without a word as to their welfare. The suspense became unbearable and her father determined to take up their trail on horseback. When he got as far east as Waugh's Point, now Hedrick, some twenty miles, to his great joy, he met them returning. They were almost as empty-handed as when they left home. The high waters had prevented the mills from grinding and bread stuffs were short. Mr. Loughridge returned the same night to relieve the anxiety at home.

Stephen Wharton, father of J. M. Wharton, came to Iowa from Illinois in March, 1846. The only vacant cabin they could get was located on West High Avenue about three blocks from the square. It was without a chimney or floor and chinked but not daubed. A good fire was kept in the center of the room and the smoke allowed to escape through an opening directly above. Mr. J. M. Wharton recalls the kindness of Mr. A. G. Phillips in making them welcome and in assisting them to become settled. He says that in that crude home his cheerful and patient mother made her family of nine rather comfortable, doing all her cooking about the fire. They remained in Oskaloosa only a few weeks, just long enough for the father to make a claim and build a cabin.

Mr. Lafayette Brolliar, of Keokuk county, stated to the writer that when his father's family came to Iowa in 1844 he found a broad swath cut through the tall prairie grass and brush marking the line across which settlers were not allowed to pass into the Indian territory until the period of the opening of the reservation. The line extended northward from a point agreed upon, west of Fairfield, and was kept mowed out by government surveyors. In a few instances this line was tampered with by the settlers in order to secure a good location for a house or mill site which could be recognized only when the Indians gave their consent.

In the days of the stage coach during the 50s and early 60s Oskaloosa was a quite important station on the routes north and westward. For several years there were no stages or regular conveyances of any kind. A hack line ran to Fairfield. When the business grew Fink & Walker ran a stage twice a week to points down nearer to the river. Then came the Western Stage Company. The unbridged streams and sloughs made staging a difficult task, but the profits were large and the company became wealthy. The time between Oskaloosa and the river was from one to two days. When the roads were good passengers could leave Oskaloosa in the evening and take breakfast in Des Moines.

There was a line of stages running up the river from Keokuk through Oskaloosa to Des Moines and from this point also directly north to Marshalltown. Another line left Washington and followed the divide westward crossing the north and south line at Oskaloosa and going on to Knoxville and the west. The stage barns of the Western Stage Company stood where the Young Men's Christian Association building now stands and the residence of the manager and agent of the company, Richard Lonsberry, was just across the street south. The old stage coaches came and went in those days with stately dignity and precision. A faithful stage driver felt the responsibility of his charge as much as the modern conductor of a passenger train, and he ranked with that unselfish class of public servants. Occasionally a faithful stage driver went out with his precious load of passengers and the U. S. mail never to return. Settlements were scarce and the long drives in the bitter cold weather were too much for even the hardiest natures. Public anxiety and sympathy were always keenly alive for the welfare of these heroic men in times of peril. A belated stage was often cheered as it wheeled up to the old Madison House. The driver always alighted with his passengers and passed his lines into the hands of the hostler, taking them again when he stepped up into his airy seat for a fresh start. Horses were changed every ten or fifteen miles when possible and were driven on the gallop between stations when the road permitted.

During the four years following 1848 long lines of teams of California gold hunters could be seen on the main roads leading westward across Iowa. They had large, strong wagons mostly drawn by oxen, because cattle could subsist on the grass on the way, while horses required grain. Scores of Mahaska county people joined the thousands from the eastern states to try their fortunes in the search for gold on the Pacific slope. These voyagers furnished a good home market for the surplus hay and corn of the settlers, in the early spring before the grass was of sufficient length to supply feed to the slowly moving caravans. Richard Parker, who lived on the old stage road southeast of Oskaloosa, told the writer that during the spring months in those years his cabin was the center of a veritable camp of travelers and that he cleared enough money to pay for a good farm. Several of the trains were fitted out in Oskaloosa and many of them carried quite a surplus of goods which they sold in the mountains and bordering the coast country at their own prices. One of these forty-niners told the writer that he received over three hundred dollars as his share of such profits on goods sold in the region of Salt Lake City. It is difficult to tell whether the county lost or gained in population by this general hegira across the plains. Many eastern adventurers became stranded and remained in Iowa. Others made the long journey, spent their substance and came back to Iowa to make a home. No person could cross Iowa without being impressed with its possibilities as a great commonwealth.

Driving stock to the market in the fall and winter was a task of the early stockman or "drover" as he was called. The prices ranged from one dollar and a half per hundred in the early years to three dollars per hundred just before the coming of the railroads. Stock from this section was driven to Keokuk or Burlington. Buyers would select twenty or more trusty young men for a large drove and gather their stock together for the long, tedious march. Lewis Cruzen made three trips to the former place with large droves of hogs. They traveled very slowly, making from three to six miles a day. The last trip was made after the holidays in 1857, with one thousand and forty hogs in the drove. These young men received for their services fifty cents a day and no dinner on the outgoing trip, and were allowed seventyfive cents a day with dinner and pay for four days' march on the home trip, which was generally made if the weather was good, in two and a half or three days.