CHAPTER VII.

We took leave of the McMillens, and as we were leaving the house Mr. Lyon, in a low tone remarked to me: "That examination was a stunner, wasn't it?" We mounted our horses and dashed across the prairie about a mile, to the residence of Esquire Smith, which was a respectable-looking hewed log house. We found the Squire sitting by a cheerful log-heap fire. He met us with such cordial, smiling politeness that my fears were dispelled at once and I felt that he would be my friend. I handed him the letter I had brought from the Colonel, which he immediately proceeded to open and read. I watched the expression on his face as he read, and concluded it boded no ill to me. After he had finished reading the letter he bowed and smiled and went on to say: The Colonel, I see, has examined you in the branches you propose to teach, and is satisfied that you are qualified to teach our school. I am willing to abide by his judgment, and don't think it necessary to question you farther. if you are willing to teach on the terms he suggested, we will consider the matter settled, and you may begin teaching on the first day of April. I came to their terms, left the articles with Esquire Smith, and in a few days he sent me word that he had succeeded in getting twenty-eight scholars subscribed, and he thought several more would come in. I was to receive one dollar and fifty cents per scholar in produce. Esquire Smith thought the most of my patrons could pay in corn-meal at the market price in the town of Mt. Pleasant, and said patrons would deliver the same. In my talk with Esquire Smith he told me of a family living near the school-house who he felt sure would board me and take their pay in such things as I received for teaching. I was not well pleased with the kind of pay I was to receive, but having to make my own living I realized that I couldn't always have things just as I liked. I was glad to be employed to teach the school, even on those terms.

I was too young then to analyze my thoughts, ideas, and desires, but I know now I was honest, proud, ambitious, energetic, and to make a dollar any way but in a straightforward and honorable manner never entered my mind. Young as I was I had observed that there were few occupations a woman who had to make her living could engage in and be respected. A girl in those days who was supposed to be well enough educated, and was employed to teach, was considered worthy of a higher place socially than one who spun and wove and cooked and washed for people out of her own home. She may not have been more worthy, but "public opinion" acted like she was. I was not afraid of spinning, nor cooking, nor washing, but I was afraid of that terrible tyrant, "public opinion." Of course I was greatly relieved and
pleased to have gone through that dreaded examination with so little trouble, but I can't say that it gave me a very exalted opinion of the erudition of those school directors. I think now they were about as much afraid of me as I was of them. Colonels and Esquires in those days were not always very scholarly. I was so glad it was all over that I went home with a light heart and kind feelings toward everybody. But on the way Mr. Lyon would look at me in a quizzical way and say: "What did you say a noun was?" or "What did you say the capital of the United States was?" And when we reached Skunk River and were standing in the river letting our horses drink, he looked up and down the stream, then remarked:

"The river is pretty low now." I said, "yes, but don't it get pretty high sometimes'?" "Yes," he said, "and I was just thinking that about the time your school will be out, the river in all probability will be up, and you can put all your farm produce on a flat-boat and send it down the river to New Orleans." I told him if he didn't stop making fun of me, as soon as we got to the top of the hill would run off and leave him, for I knew my horse could outrun his. He replied: "I don't know about that, but our horses are tired, and I guess we had better not run a race until some other time, but I'll stop, if that is the way you take my suggestions."

We rode on, talking about the merits of our horses, the pleasant trip we had had, and the beauties of the country, until we arrived at my home, where Mr. Lyon sprang from his horse, led my horse up to a stump and assisted me to alight. I didn't need any assistance but it was considered the polite thing to do that way. I invited him to come in and take supper with us, but he declined. We stood and talked for a moment and I thanked him for his kindness to me, for I did consider that he had been a friend and I felt grateful. He remarked that it had given him much pleasure and he had enjoyed the day, he thought, quite as much as I had. As he finished the last remark he sprang into his saddle and turned his horse's head as if to leave. I was just about starting to the house when he called me back, and with a very sober look said: "I have been thinking that the amount of truck you will have to dispose of will overstock the market in Mt. Pleasant, and you will be obliged to resort to the flat-boat, and in that case you will want a pilot, and I am the man." At that he gave his horse a cut with his whip and went dashing off. Before we retired that night I think I told my mother everything relating to that day's experience, not omitting the most trivial details. She was deeply interested, as she always was in everything which concerned me.

The next day I went over to Wilson's and told them about it. Mr. Wilson said, "I know all the men in that neighborhood. and if you were to hunt Iowa over you couldn't find a better."

When the time came for me to begin my school, my friend Mr. Lyon proposed to go with me and see me safely landed at my boarding-place, Mr. Kesler's. I gladly accepted his kind offer, and we enjoyed another trip over prairies, woods, river, and creeks. He never once, the whole way, referred to "nouns", "capitals", nor "flat-boats". Esquire Smith had arranged everything in regard to my boarding. The Keslers received me so kindly that I felt at home with them right away. Mrs. Kesler was a very energetic woman, a good housekeeper, and an excellent cook. She wanted to do much more for my comfort than I wanted her to do. Mr. Kesler was a gentle, quiet, unassuming man. He and his wife were both devout Methodists. The school-house was not more than forty rods from the Kesler home, and in one of the prettiest places I ever saw in Iowa. Just across the road was a camp-meeting ground in a beautiful grove of oak and hickory trees, and a gravelly, rocky, little creek crossed the road only a few rods away. That place had been settled about ten years, and many of the first settlers were comfortably fixed for Iowa.

On Monday morning, the first day of April, 1844, I commenced my school. Mr. Kesler had made a fire in the stove, and when I went in I found a clean, pleasant looking school-house. It was a log house but was whitewashed and had good windows and door, and for that day, good writing-desks and seats. The outlook was charming. The grass was coming up all about, the trees were putting out, and that little brook so near that I could see it from the school-house door, and hear the water rippling over its gravelly bottom.

In a little while the scholars began to come in. I think there were thirty the first day, their ages ranging from five to twenty-two years; some of them several years older than myself. My eighteenth birthday occurred while I was teaching that school. I soon discovered that none of them were far enough advanced to give me any uneasiness. I went to work with the determination to do my very best to please the parents and instruct their children. If they were not pleased with my work they, never let me know it. In a small way· I followed Mr. Hoshour's plan of teaching, which was to instruct my pupils correctly in the rudiments, but not confine myself to text-books alone. I knew very little of ancient or modern history, but the little I did know I gave them the benefit of, which in my crude judgment would instil in them a taste for reading and finding out things for themselves.

All the families in that neighborhood were orderly, respectable and moral; nearly all members of some religious denomination, and meetings were held nearly every Sunday in the school-house or at the camp-ground. That neighborhood was known far and near as the Brazelton neighborhood. The Brazeltons were the most prominent family therein, and seemed to be allied by blood or marriage to most of the elite of the town of Mt. Pleasant, the Wallaces, Sanderses, Porters and Paines. The Wallaces, Henderson and Frank, I was told, were brothers of Governor Wallace, who was the first governor I remember anything about in Indiana. They were tall, manly, distinguished-looking men. Henderson Wallace was a son-in-law of Colonel Samuel Brazelton. One of the Sanderses was a brother-in-law. Alvin Sanders was a young unmarried man then, and kept a store of general merchandise in Mt. Pleasant. He was afterward Governor of Nebraska, and has the distinction of being the fatherin-law of Russell Harrison. Alvin Sanders was a fine looking man and a gentleman in every sense of the word. The eldest daughter of the house of Brazelton was the wife of Asberry Porter, a lawyer and leading politician in Henry County. Nearly all the m~n about Mt. Pleasant whom I have mentioned were politicians, and were "W~igs," and would have vote~ for Henry Clay if they

had have had the chance. But Iowa was a Territory then. The Territorial Legislature and county offices engaged their attention at that time. I became acquainted with those people and many others at the homes of the Brazeltons and Keslers. Both families entertained,' hospitably. I remember well the big fire-place in the Brazelton kitchen, with crane and hooks of every necessary length. What a lot of pots and ketUes could be hung on that long crane, and be swung out and back again over the fire at the cook's pleasure! What splendid biscuit, salt-rising and corn bread could be baked on that big hearth in skillets and ovens with coals placed underneath and on the lids! Great strong andirons to hold thewood in place. A strong pair of tongs and shovel stood against the jamb, and hooks for lifting pots, and hooks for lifting lids, hung on nails in convenient places. There were cooking stoves in that day, but I don't remember one in the Brazelton neighborhood.

Not only religious services were held in the schoolhouse, but every alternate Saturday afternoon a young gentleman by the name of Shadel taught a singing school which was patronized by all the young people about there.

We sang what was called "patent notes" and used books called "Mason's Sacred Harp" and "Methodist Harmonist." Two of Mr. Shadel's sons, Horace and Henry, are musicians and well known, not only in Oskaloosa but many other towns. These young men have the reputation of being honorable men, and of possessing much musical talent.

I had no trouble with my scholars, and was treated with kindness by their parents and the young men and women of the neighborhood. I had what young people call a "good time," until one day about two weeks before my school closed I received a letter saying my mother was sick. I dismissed my school, borrowed a horse, and went to see her. I stayed with her three days, when she seemed so much better all thought she would be well in a few days. I went back and finished my school. A few of my patrons paid me in money, notwithstanding I had agreed to take all in "produce". One man I remember in particular, Mr. Beaton, who sent two lovely little girls, Sarah and Lottie, to my school. Mr. Heaton had a saw mill on Big Creek. He said: "I will pay you in money; I don't like to ask you to take lumber." With Mr. Kesler's kind assistance I managed to dispose of some of my assets in the shape of farm produce, but a considerable quantity was yet on my hands when my school closed. This residue consisted principally of corn meal. I was fortunate enough to trade it to Mr. Alvin Sanders for dry goods. I remember with what fear and trembling I approached Mr. Sanders when I went to his store to propose that exchange of commodities. When I had stated the amount of corn meal I wished to dispose of he looked a little surprised, hesitated at first, and intimated that he feared the amount of that commodity I wished to dispose of would more than meet the requirements of the citizens of Mt. Pleasant. I think he noticed my embarrassment, and the kindness of his heart prompted him to take the whole of it and take the chances of disposing of it. I have always felt grateful to Mr. Sanders for that act of kindness. I was rejoiced and not at all surprised in after years to learn that he had "gone on to fortune and to fame."