Monument at Fremont, Nebraska, marking the Overland Emigrant Trails or California Road Erected by Lewis-Clark Chapter, Daughters of the American RevolutionMonument at Fremont, Nebraska, marking the Overland Emigrant Trails or California Road Erected by Lewis-Clark Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution
Mrs. Cynthia Hamilton, of Fremont, gives an interesting account of the early days. In June, 1857, she, with her husband, Mr. West, their daughter, Julia, Mrs. West's brother, the late Wilson Reynolds, and Mrs. Reynolds, reached the few dwellings then comprising Fremont, after an eighteen or nineteen days trip in moving wagons from Racine, Wisconsin. They first stopped at the house of Robert Kittle, corner Military and Broad streets. This house was made from trees grown on the bluffs southwest of town, and had a red cedar shingle roof, the shingles shaved from logs floated down the Platte. After two days, they all moved to a log house in "Pierce's Grove." While living here, Mrs. Hamilton tells of hearing a great commotion among the tinware and upon investigation, found it was caused by a huge snake. In August of the same year they moved to their homestead, northwest of town, on the Rawhide. It is now known as the Rohr place. Here they remained two years. In winter the men made trips to the river for wood, and the women must either accompany them or remain at home, alone, far from another house. Thus, alone one day, she saw a large band of Indians approaching. The chief, picking up an axe from the wood pile, placed it under the window where she sat, indicating that she must take care of it, else some one might steal it. He then led his band northward. During all the residence on the homestead the three members of the family suffered continually from ague. In the fall of 1859, Mrs. West and her child returned to Wisconsin, where they remained ten months. Duringher absence, Mr. West became a trader with the Indians and once in Saunders county as he was selling a quantity of meat on a temporary counter, the Indians became rather unruly. His white companions fled, and Mr. West seizing a club, went among the Indians, striking them right and left. For this, they called him a brave and ever afterwards called him "Buck Skadaway," meaning curly hair. When Mrs. West returned from Wisconsin, she came down the Mississippi and up the Missouri to Omaha, then a small town. From there they drove to Fremont, with horse and buggy, via Florence. Mr. West now bought a cottonwood house, battened up and down. It consisted of two rooms, and stood on the site of the present residence of Thad Quinn. Wilson Reynolds bought two lots on the south side of Sixth street near the West home for twenty-five cents. Here he built a house made partly of black walnut taken from the banks of the Platte. In this house, was born our present postmaster, B. W. Reynolds. Mrs. Hamilton relates that the Indians were frequent callers at her home, one even teaching her to make "corn coffee," "by taking a whole ear of corn, burning it black and then putting it in the coffee pot." Food consisted of vegetables, which were grown on the prairie sod, prairie chickens, small game, and corn bread. Butter was twenty-five cents a pound. Syrup was made by boiling down watermelon. Boiled beans were mashed to a pulp and used as butter. "Everything was high and when the money and supplies which we bought were exhausted it was hard to get more." Screens were unknown and the flies and mosquitoes were terrible. In the evenings everyone would build a smudge so that they could sleep. Not a tree was to be seen except those on the banks of the streams. Tall prairie grass waved like the ocean and prairie fires were greatly feared. Everyone began setting out trees at once.
"In those days Broad street was noted as a racing road for the Indians and now it is a boulevard for automobiles," says Mrs. Hamilton. "Yes," she continued, "I well remember the Fourth of July celebration in 1857. There were about one hundred people in attendance. Miss McNeil was my little girl's first teacher and Dr. Rhustrat was our first physician." In 1861, after a short illness, Mr. West died. He was buried beside his infant daughter in the cemetery, which at that time stood near the present brewery. The bodies were afterward removed toBarnard's cemetery and later to Ridge. The following year, Mrs. West, with her daughter, Julia, returned to her parents at Racine, Wisconsin, where she remained for many years. In 1876, as the wife of William Hamilton she returned and made her home on one of her farms near the stockyards. Twenty-five years ago this place was sold for $100 per acre while the old homestead northwest of town brought $25 per acre in 1875. After selling the south farm she and Mr. Hamilton, who died a few years ago, bought the present home on Broad street. Everyone should honor the early settlers, who left their eastern homes, endured hardships and privations that a beautiful land might be developed for posterity. They should be pensioned as well as our soldiers. And we, of the younger generation, should respect and reverence their memory.
I came to Fremont, Nebraska, in May, 1870, and settled on a farm on Maple creek. In 1874 or 1875 we were visited by grasshoppers. I had never formed an idea of anything so disastrous. When the "hoppers" were flying the air was full of them. As one looked up, they seemed like a severe snow storm. It must have been like one of the plagues of Egypt. They were so bad one day that the passenger train on the Union Pacific was stalled here. I went to see the train and the odor from the crushed insects was nauseating. I think the train was kept here for three hours. The engine was besmeared with them. It was a very wonderful sight. The rails and ground were covered with the pests. They came into the houses and one lady went into her parlor one day and found her lace curtains on the floor, almost entirely eaten. Mrs. George Turner said that she came home from town one day when the "hoppers" were flying and they were so thick that the horses could not find the barn. Mrs. Turner's son had a field of corn. W. R. Wilson offered him fifty dollars for it. When he began to husk it, there was no corn there. A hired man of Mrs. Turner's threw his vest on the ground. When he had finished his work and picked up the vest it was completely riddled by the grasshoppers. I heard one man say that he was out riding with his wife and they stopped by a field of wheat where the "hoppers" were working and they could hear their mandibles working on the wheat. When they flew it sounded like a train of cars in motion. Horses would not face them unless compelled. One year I had an eighty acre field of corn which was being cultivated. The men came in and said the "hoppers" were taking the corn. They did not stay long, but when they left no one would have known that there had ever been any corn in that field. My brother from California came in 1876. On the way to the farm a thunder storm came up and we stopped at a friend's until it was over. My brother said, "I would not go through the experience again for $10,000, and I would not lose the experience for the same amount." The "hoppers" came before the storm and were thick on the ground. It was a wonderful experience. In those days we cut our small grain with "headers." The grain head was cut and fell into boxes on wagons. After dinner one day, the men went out to find the grasshoppers in full possession. A coat which had been left hanging was completely destroyed. Gardens and field crops were their delight. They would eat an onion entirely out of the hard outer skin. I had a thirty acre field of oats which looked fine on Saturday. We could not harvest it then and on Monday it looked like an inverted whisk broom. Some of the "hoppers" were three inches long. The backs were between brown and slate color and underneath was white. I think we received visits from them for five years.
From the year 1856 until the beginning of the civil war in 1861 the early settlers of Nebraska experienced nearly all of the ills and hardships incidental to a pioneer life. Fifty years have passed since then and to one having lived through those trying days—or to a stranger who merely listens to the almost incredulous tales of a past generation—there arises a question as to why any sane person or persons should desire to leave a land of comparative comfort and plenty for one of deprivation and possible starvation.
The early settlers of Fremont were for the most part young people from the eastern states, full of ambition and hope. There is in the youthful heart a spirit of energy, of doing and daring in order to realize, if possible, dreams of a perhaps glorious future in which may be won honor and fame and wealth. Then again the forces of nature are never at rest and man, being a part of the great whole, must inevitably keep in step with the universal law. A few lines written for a paper several years ago give the first impression of the landscape which greeted the eyes of a stranger on entering the valley of the Elkhorn river in 1858, April 26:
"This is the picture as I see it plainly in retrospect—a country, and it was all a country, with a smooth, level, gray surface which appeared to go on toward the west forever and forever. On the north were the bluffs of the Elkhorn river, but the great Elkhorn Valley was a part of an unknown world. South of the little townsite of Fremont the Platte river moved sluggishly along to meet and be swallowed up in the great Missouri. Ten or twelve log cabins broke the monotony of the treeless expanse that stretched far away, apparently to a leaden sky. My heart sank within me as I thought but did not say, 'How can I ever live in a place like this?'" And yet the writer of the above lines has lived in Fremont for forty-seven years.
The histories of the world are chiefly men's histories. Theyare stories of governments, of religions, of wars, and only in exceptional instances has woman appeared to hold any important place in the affairs of nations. From the earliest settlement of the colonies in the new world until the present time, women have not only borne with bravery and fortitude the greater trials of the pioneer life, but from their peculiar organization and temperament suffered more from the small annoyances than their stronger companions of the other sex. The experiences of the home and family life of the early settlers of the great West have never entered into the annals of history nor can a truthful story be told without them, but thus far no doubt the apparent neglect has been due to woman herself, who until quite recently has felt that she was a small factor in the world's affairs.
In the beginning of the new life in Fremont women had their first introduction to the log cabin which was to be their home for many years. It was not as comfortable as it looks picturesque and romantic printed on paper. It was a story and a half high, sixteen by twenty feet in size. The logs were hewn on two sides, but the work performed by the volunteer carpenters of that time was not altogether satisfactory, consequently the logs did not fit closely but the open spaces between were filled with a sort of mortar that had a faculty of gradually dropping off as it dried, leaving the original holes and openings through which the winter winds whistled and Nebraska breezes blew the dirt.
The houses were made of cottonwood logs and finished with cottonwood lumber. The shingles warped so the roof somewhat resembled a sieve. The rain dripped through it in summer and snow sifted through it in winter. The floors were made of wide rough boards, the planing and polishing given by the broom, the old-fashioned mop, and the scrubbing brush. The boards warped and shrunk so that the edges turned up, making wide cracks in the floor through which many small articles dropped down into a large hole in the ground miscalled a cellar. It was hardly possible to keep from freezing in these houses in winter. Snow sifted through the roof, covering beds and floors. The piercing winds blew through every crack and crevice. Green cottonwood was the only fuel obtainable and that would sizzle and fry in the stove while water froze standing under the stove. This is no fairy tale.
The summers were not much more pleasant. It must be remembered that there were no trees in Fremont, nothing that afforded the least protection from the hot rays of a Nebraska sun. Mosquitoes and flies were in abundance, and door screens were unknown at that time. The cotton netting nailed over windows and hung over and around the beds was a slight protection from the pests, although as the doors must necessarily be opened more or less no remedy could be devised that would make any perceptible improvement. To submit was the rule and the law in those days, but many, many times it was done under protest.
The first floor was divided or partitioned off, by the use of quilts or blankets, into a kitchen, bedroom, and pantry. The chamber, or what might be called attic, was also partitioned in the same way, giving as many rooms as it would hold beds. The main articles of food for the first two years consisted of potatoes, corn meal, and bacon. The meal was made from a variety of corn raised by the Indians and called Pawnee corn. It was very soft, white, and palatable. Wheat flour was not very plentiful the first year. Bacon was the only available meat. Occasionally a piece of buffalo meat was obtained, but it being very hard to masticate only served to make a slight change in the gravy, which was otherwise made with lard and flour browned together in an iron frying pan, adding boiling water until it was of the right consistency, salt and pepper to suit the taste. This mixture was used for potatoes and bread of all kinds. Lard was a necessity. Biscuits were made of flour, using a little corn meal for shortening and saleratus for raising. Much of the corn was ground in an ordinary coffee mill or in some instances rubbed on a large grater or over a tin pan with a perforated bottom, made so by driving nails through it. The nearest flouring mill was at Fort Calhoun, over forty miles away, which was then a three days' journey, taking more time than a trip to California at the present day. Nothing, however, could be substituted for butter. The lack of meat, sugar, eggs and fruit, tea and coffee, was borne patiently, but wheat flour and corn meal bread with its everlasting lard gravy accompaniment was more than human nature could bear, yet most of the people waxed strong and flourished on bread and grease. Oh, where are the students of scientific research and domestic economy?There were possibly three or four cows in the settlement, and if there was ever an aristocracy in Fremont, it was represented by the owners of said cows.
In 1858 a little sorghum was raised. "Hope springs eternal in the human breast." Men, women, and children helped to prepare the stalks when at the right stage for crushing, which was done with a very primitive home-made machine. The juice obtained was boiled down to syrup, but alas, the dreams of a surfeit of sweetness vanished into thin air, for the result of all the toil and trouble expended was a production so nauseous that it could not be used even for vinegar.
Wild plums and grapes grew in profusion on the banks of the rivers. There was much more enjoyment in gathering the fruit than in eating or cooking it. The plums were bitter and sour, the grapes were sour and mostly seeds, and sugar was not plentiful.
The climate was the finest in the world for throat and lung troubles, but on the breaking up of the soil malaria made its appearance and many of the inhabitants suffered from ague and fever. Quinine was the only remedy. There were neither physicians nor trained nurses here, but all were neighbors and friends, always ready to help each other when the occasion required.
In 1856, the year in which Fremont was born, the Pawnee Indians were living four miles south across the Platte river on the bluffs in Saunders county. They numbered about four thousand and were a constant source of annoyance and fear. In winter they easily crossed the river on the ice and in summer the water most of the time was so low they could swim and wade over, consequently there were few days in the year that they did not visit Fremont by the hundred. Weeks and months passed before women and children became accustomed to them and they could never feel quite sure that they were harmless. Stealing was their forte. Eyes sharp and keen were ever on the alert when they were present, yet when they left almost invariably some little article would be missed. They owned buffalo robes and blankets for which the settlers exchanged clothing which they did not need, jewelry, beads, and ornaments, with a little silver coin intermixed. The blankets and robes were utilized for bedding and many were the shivering forms they served toprotect from the icy cold of the Nebraska winters. In 1859 the government moved them to another home on the Loup river and in 1876 they were removed to Indian territory.
Snakes of many kinds abounded, but rattlesnakes were the most numerous. They appeared to have a taste for domestic life, as many were found in houses and cellars. A little four-year-old boy one sunny summer day ran out of the house bare-footed, and stepping on the threshold outside the door felt something soft and cold to his feet. An exclamation of surprise caused a member of the household to hasten to the door just in time to see a young rattlesnake gliding swiftly away. In several instances they were found snugly ensconced under pillows, on lounges, and very frequently were they found in cellars.
For more than two years there was no way of receiving or sending mail only as one or another would make a trip to Omaha, which was usually once a week. In 1859 a stage line was put on between Omaha and Fort Kearny. No one can tell with what thankfulness and rejoicing each and every improvement in the condition and surroundings was greeted by the settlers. Dating from the discovery of gold in Colorado the pioneer was no more an object of pity or sympathy. Those who had planted their stakes and made their claims along the old military and California trail were independent. Many of the emigrants became discouraged and turned their faces homeward before getting a glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. On their way home they sold loads of provisions for a song. The same fall the fertile soil of the Platte Valley, after two years of cultivation, responded to the demand of civilization. There was a market west for every bushel of grain and every pound of vegetables grown. So at least the patient and persevering ones received their reward.
The sources of amusement were few, and yet all enjoyed the strange new life. A pleasant ride over the level prairie dotted with wild flowers, in any sort of vehicle drawn by a pair of oxen, was as enjoyable to the young people then as a drive over the country would now be in the finest turnout that Fremont possesses. A dance in a room twelve by sixteen feet in a log cabin, to the music of the Arkansas Traveler played on one violin, was "just delightful." A trip to Omaha once or twice a year was a rare event in the woman's life particularly. Three days were taken, two to drive in and out, and one to do a little trading(not shopping) and look around to view the sights. A span of horses, a lumber wagon with a spring seat in front high up in the air, was the conveyance. Women always wore sunbonnets on these occasions to keep their complexion fair.
Several times in the earlier years the Mormons passed through here with long trains of emigrants journeying to the promised land, and a sorry lot they were, for the most of them were footsore and weary, as they all walked. The train was made up of emigrant covered wagons drawn by oxen, and hand carts drawn by cows, men and women, and dogs. It was a sight never to be forgotten.
This is merely a short description of some of the trials and sufferings endured by the majority of the early settlers of this state. Many of the actors in the drama have passed away, a few only now remaining, and soon the stories of their lives will be to the coming generation like forgotten dreams.
Very few of those now living in Omaha can have any realization of the privations, not to say hardships, that were endured by the pioneer women who came here at an early date. A few claim shanties were scattered at distant intervals over this beautiful plateau, and were eagerly taken by those who were fortunate enough to secure them. There was seldom more than one room in them, so that no servants could be kept, even if there were any to be had. Many an amusing scene could have been witnessed if the friends who had been left behind could have peeped in at the door and have seen the attempts made at cooking by those who never had cooked before.
A description of one of the homes might be of interest. A friend of ours owned a claim shanty that stood on the hill west of what is now Saunders, or Twenty-fourth street, and he very kindly offered it to us, saying he would have it plastered and fixed up. We, of course, accepted it at once and as soon as possible it was made ready and we moved into it late one evening, very happy to have a home. The house consisted of upstairs, downstairs, and a cellar, the upstairs being just high enough for one to stand erect in the center of the room, provided one was not very tall. The stairs were nothing but a ladder, home-made at that, in one corner of the room, held in place by a trunk. It was some time before I succeeded in going up and down gracefully. I happened to be upstairs when our first caller came and in my effort to get down quickly caught my feet in one of the rungs of the ladder and landed on the aforementioned trunk so suddenly that it brought everyone in the room to their feet. It took away all the formality of an introduction.
Mr. and Mrs. Hanscom lived half a mile north of the cottage just described, and had what seemed to others a house that was almost palatial. It contained three rooms, besides a kitchen, and had many comforts that few had in those days, including a cradle, which held a rosy-cheeked, curly-headed baby girl, whohas long since grown to womanhood and had babies of her own. Another home, standing where Creighton College now stands, was built by a nephew of the late Rev. Reuben Gaylord, but was afterwards occupied by Mr. and Mrs. W. N. Byers, who have for many years resided in Colorado. The Gaylords moved from there to a new home at Eleventh and Jackson streets. Their family consisted of three children: Mrs. S. C. Brewster, of Irvington, who is still living at the age of 77 years; a son, Ralph Gaylord; and an adopted daughter, Georgia, who has since died.
Mrs. Charlotte F. Palmer First State Regent, Nebraska Society, Daughters of the American Revolution. 1894-1895Mrs. Charlotte F. Palmer First State Regent, Nebraska Society, Daughters of the American Revolution. 1894-1895
A one story house built just in the rear of Tootle and Mauls' store on Farnam, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth streets, was kept as a boarding house by Kentucky Wood and his wife. It was considered a high-toned boarding house, although the partitions were made of unbleached cloth and the floor of the dining room was covered with sawdust. Judges Lockwood and Bradley, two of our territorial judges, boarded there and a dinner was given in their honor by the landlord. The invited guests included Governor and Mrs. Cuming, Colonel and Mrs. C. B. Smith, and Dr. Geo. L. Miller. That was the first dinner party ever given in Omaha. Governor and Mrs. Cuming then boarded at the Douglas house, Thirteenth and Harney streets, and their rooms were often filled with the elite of this young and growing city. Mrs. Cuming was very popular in the little gatherings which were frequently held. She was the leading light and was always ready and willing to assist in any good work. Wherever there was sickness she was sure to be found. Mrs. Thomas Davis was another who was always doing little acts of kindness. She was the mother of the late Mrs. Herman Kountze, who, at that time, was the only white little girl in Omaha. Still another who never turned anyone away from her door who needed help was Mrs. E. Estabrook.
Mrs. A. D. Jones, our first postmaster's wife, lived at that time at what was called Park Wild, in a one story log and frame house, which was afterwards occupied by General G. M. Dodge, the distinguished soldier, so well and widely known to the whole country as the chief engineer of the Union Pacific railroad. Among others who were here were Mrs. Edwin Patrick and Mrs. Allen Root, also Mrs. T. G. Goodwill, who lived in the Kentucky Wood house that I have already mentioned. She afterwards built the brick house that still stands near the northwest cornerof Davenport street, facing south. It is an old landmark near Fifteenth street.
One of the most prominent women of that day was Mrs. John M. Thayer, whose home at that time was said to have been the first civilized appearing home. It was plastered, clapboarded, and shingled. The entire community envied Mrs. Thayer her somewhat imposing residence. It was in very strong contrast, however, with the beautiful brick house which General Thayer afterwards built and occupied for several years, on the northeast corner of Sixteenth and Davenport streets.
Mrs. Samuel Rogers, Mrs. William Snowden, Mrs. Thomas O'Conner, Mrs. O. B. Selden, Mrs. Hadley Johnson, and Mrs. Harrison Johnson were among the first women who lived in Omaha. Mrs. A. J. Poppleton may be classed among the number, although at that time she was living in Council Bluffs, then called Kanesville, where she was one of the leading young ladies.
The first hotel in Omaha, a log house, eighteen by twenty feet, one story high, was named the St. Nicholas. It was first occupied by the family of Wm. P. Snowden, and stood on the corner of Twelfth and Jackson streets in 1855. The Douglas house, a two story frame building, was erected at the southwest corner of Thirteenth and Harney streets. The rear part was made of cottonwood slabs, and in the winter time it was said to have been very cold. It was the leading hotel and all the high-toned people stopped there. The Tremont house, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth streets, was built in 1856, and opened by Wm. F. Sweezy and Aaron Root. Mr. Sweezy is still living in Omaha. The Farnham, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth on Harney, was built in 1858. The famous Herndon house was built in 1856 by Dr. Geo. L. Miller and Lyman Richardson. The Hamilton, a brick building, was erected in 1856 by C. W. Hamilton, C. B. Smith, and H. M. Judson. The proprietors bought their furniture in St. Louis and brought it to Omaha by steamboat. The upper part of the house was one large bedroom with beds ranged against the walls. About once a week the furniture was all removed from this room and it was temporarily converted into a ballroom.
Dr. Wm. Washington Wiley, with his wife, Gertrude Miranda Wiley, and their children, came to Nebraska July 6, 1857, and lived at Saratoga (now in Omaha) a year and a half. They came from Ohio in covered wagons, driving their cows along. It took two months to make the trip.
They caught up with a company of Mormon emigrants when they reached Iowa City, Iowa, three or four hundred of whom camped along about five miles ahead of the Wiley family. They stopped at Florence a few weeks to buy provisions and teams to carry them across the plains to Utah. These Mormons had two-wheeled carts. These carts were provision carts drawn by both men and women.
Mrs. Wiley was of Holland Dutch descent, and inherited the thrift and capability of her ancestors. She deserved great credit for her quick action in saving one victim from the Claim Club. This Claim Club was an organization of prominent Omaha business men. John Kelly, a nephew of Mrs. Wiley's sister, had a claim of one hundred sixty acres near Omaha. There were four wagonloads of men out looking for him to compel him to give them the papers showing his right to the land. The late Joseph Redman, of Omaha, lived near Mrs. Wiley, and when he saw the men coming for John Kelly he went to Mrs. Wiley and requested her to warn young Kelly, as she could get past the men, but he could not. Mrs. Redman went to Mrs. Wiley's house and took care of the three months' old baby and five other children. John Kelly was working at the carpenter's trade in Omaha, about three miles south of Mrs. Wiley's. All she had to ride was a stallion, of which she was afraid, and which had never been ridden by a woman. She rode slowly until out of sight of the wagonloads of men and then hit the horse every other jump. She made him run all the way, passing some Indians on the way, who looked at her wonderingly but did not try to stop her. After going to several places she finally located John Kelly.He wanted to go to the ferry, but her judgment was better and she said they would look for him there the first thing, which they did. She took him on behind her and rode to the home of Jane Beeson, his aunt, who put him down cellar and then spread a piece of rag carpet over the trap door. The Claim Club men were there several times that day to look for him, but did not search the house. After dark he walked to Bellevue, twelve miles, and the next morning crossed the Missouri river on the ferry boat and went to Missouri. When his claim papers were returned from Washington he returned and lived on his land without any further trouble. He would have been badly beaten and probably killed had it not been for Mrs. Wiley's nerve and decision in riding a fractious horse to warn him of his danger.
While Dr. and Mrs. Wiley resided at Omaha the territorial law-makers disagreed, part of them going to Florence to make laws and part of them to Omaha, each party feeling it was the rightful law-making body of the territory.
In December, 1859, the family crossed the Platte river on the ice and located on a farm in Cass county, three miles west of the Missouri river, about three miles southwest of the present town of Murray, although the old town of Rock Bluffs was their nearest town at that time. Dr. Wiley and the older children went on ahead with the household goods and live stock. Mrs. Wiley, with the small children, rode in a one-horse buggy. She did not know the way and there were no fences or landmarks to guide her. She had the ague so badly she could hardly drive the horse. A sack containing $1,800 in gold was tied around her waist. This was all the money they had, and they intended to use it to build a house and barn on their new farm. She objected to carrying so much money, but Dr. Wiley said it was safer from robbers with her than with him. In spite of her illness and the difficulty in traveling in an unknown country a distance of thirty-five or forty miles, she reached the new home safely. She took off the sack of gold, threw it in a corner, and fell on the bed exhausted. They lived all winter in a log house of two rooms. There was a floor and roof, but no ceiling, and the snow drifted in on the beds. Most of the family were sick all winter.
The next summer they built a frame house, the first in that locality, which caused the neighbors to call them "high toned."Mrs. Wiley bought a parlor set of walnut furniture, upholstered in green.
General Worth, who had been a congressman, wrote to Washington, D. C., and got the commission, signed by Abraham Lincoln, appointing Dr. Wiley postmaster, the name of the postoffice being Three Groves. They kept the postoffice eleven years.
They kept the stage station five years. It was the main stop between St. Joseph and Omaha before the railroad went through. They had from ten to fifteen people to dinner one coach load. The stage coach was drawn by four horses, and carried both mail and passengers. The horses were changed for fresh ones at the Wiley farm. At first the meals were twenty-five cents; the last two years, fifty cents. This was paid by the passengers and not included in the stage fare.
Shortly after the discovery of Pike's Peak and gold in Colorado, freighters, with big freight wagons of provisions drawn by six or eight oxen, stopped there over night. There were usually twelve men, who slept on the floor, paying eighteen dollars for supper, breakfast, and lodging. Mr. McComas and Mr. Majors (father of Col. Thomas J. Majors) each had freight wagons starting at Nebraska City and taking the supplies to Denver and Pike's Peak via Fort Kearny, Nebraska. When the Union Pacific railroad was completed in 1869 the freighters had to sell their oxen and wagons, as they could not compete with the railroad in hauling freight.
The Omaha, Pawnee, and Otoe Indians, when visiting other Indians, would stop at Dr. Wiley's and ask for things to eat. Sometimes there would be fifty of them. An old Indian would peer in. If the shade was pulled down while he was looking in he would call the party vile names. If food was given him a dozen more Indians would come and ask for something. If chickens were not given them they helped themselves to all they found straying around. It would make either tribe angry to ask if they were going to visit any other tribe. The Pawnees would say, "Omaha no good"; the Omahas would say, "Pawnee no good."
Mrs. Wiley kept a copy of theOmaha Republican, published November 30, 1859. The paper is yellow with age, but well preserved, and a few years ago she presented it to the State Historical Society. It is a four-page paper, the second and third pages being nearly all advertisements. It contains a letter written by Robert W. Furnas, ex-governor of Nebraska, and a long article about the late J. Sterling Morton. This was about the time Mr. Morton tried to claim the salt basin at Lincoln as a preëmption, and wanted to locate salt works there.
Mrs. Wiley always took a great interest in the development of the state; she attended the State Fair almost every year, spending a great deal of time looking over the new machinery.
Dr. Wiley died in 1887 and Mrs. Wiley in 1914. Mrs. Wiley lived to the age of 87 years.
Little Erma Purviance, daughter of Dr. W. E. and Edith E. Purviance, of Omaha, is a great-granddaughter of Mrs. Wiley, and also a namesake. May she possess some of the virtue and intelligence of her ancestor.
Note: Mrs. Wiley's two daughters, Araminta and Hattie, were students in the early years at Brownell Hall, then the only means of obtaining an education, as there were very few public schools. Some of the children and grandchildren still live on the lands taken by Dr. and Mrs. Wiley, and have always been among the well-to-do citizens of Cass county.Mrs. Edith Erma Purviance, the writer of the foregoing article, spent most of her girlhood with her grandmother, who sent her to the State University, where she made good use of her advantages. Other children of Mrs. Wiley were also university students or identified with the various schools of the state. Mrs. A. Dove WileyAsche, youngest daughter of Mrs. Wiley, now occupies the old home, out of which so recently went the brave pioneer who made it of note among the early homes of the territory.—Harriett S. MacMurphy.
Note: Mrs. Wiley's two daughters, Araminta and Hattie, were students in the early years at Brownell Hall, then the only means of obtaining an education, as there were very few public schools. Some of the children and grandchildren still live on the lands taken by Dr. and Mrs. Wiley, and have always been among the well-to-do citizens of Cass county.
Mrs. Edith Erma Purviance, the writer of the foregoing article, spent most of her girlhood with her grandmother, who sent her to the State University, where she made good use of her advantages. Other children of Mrs. Wiley were also university students or identified with the various schools of the state. Mrs. A. Dove WileyAsche, youngest daughter of Mrs. Wiley, now occupies the old home, out of which so recently went the brave pioneer who made it of note among the early homes of the territory.—Harriett S. MacMurphy.
Lewis H. Badger drove with his parents, Henry L. and Mary A. Badger, from their home in Livingston county, Illinois, to Fillmore county, Nebraska. They had a covered emigrant wagon and a buggy tied behind. Lewis was twelve years old October 5, 1868, the day they crossed the Missouri river at Nebraska City, the nearest railroad station to their future home. The family stayed with friends near Saltillo while H. L. Badger came on with the horse and buggy and picked out his claim on the north side of Fillmore county, it being the northwest quarter of section 2, township 8, range 3, west of the sixth principal meridian.
At that time the claims were taken near the river in order that water might be obtained more easily, and also to be near the railroad which had been surveyed and staked out in the southern edge of York county near the West Blue river.
The Badger family came on to Lincoln, then a mere village, and stopped there. They bought a log chain, and lumber for a door; the window frames were hewed from logs. When they reached the claim they did not know where to ford the river so they went on farther west to Whitaker's and stayed all night. There they forded the river and came on to the claim the next morning, October 20, 1868. There they camped while Mr. Badger made a dugout in the banks of the West Blue river, where the family lived for more than two years. The hollow in the ground made by this dugout can still be seen.
In 1870 H. L. Badger kept the postoffice in the dugout. He received his commission from Postmaster General Creswell. The postoffice was known as West Blue. About the same time E. L. Martin was appointed postmaster at Fillmore. Those were the first postoffices in Fillmore county. Before that time the settlers got their mail at McFadden in York county. Mr. Badger kept the postoffice for some time after moving into the log house and after the establishment of the postoffice at Fairmont.
In 1867 the Indians were all on reservations but by permissionof the agents were allowed to go on hunting trips. If they made trouble for the settlers they were taken back to the reservations. While the Badgers were living in the dugout a party of about one thousand Omaha Indians came up the river on a hunting trip. Some of their ponies got away and ate some corn belonging to a man named Dean, who lived farther down the river. The man loved trouble and decided to report them to the agent. The Indians were afraid of being sent back to the reservation so the chief, Prairie Chicken, his brother, Sammy White, and seventeen of the other Indians came into the dugout and asked Mr. Badger to write a letter to the agent for them stating their side of the case. This he did and read it to Sammy White, the interpreter, who translated it for the other eighteen. It proved satisfactory to both Indians and agent.
In August, 1869, while Mr. Badger was away helping a family named Whitaker, who lived up the river, to do some breaking, the son, Lewis, walked to where his father was at work, leaving Mrs. Badger at home alone with her four-year-old daughter. About four o'clock it began to rain very hard and continued all night. The river raised until the water came within eighteen inches of the dugout door. The roof leaked so that it was almost as wet inside as out. Mr. Badger and Lewis stayed at the Whitaker dugout. They fixed the canvas that had been the cover of the wagon over the bed to keep Grandmother Whitaker dry and the others sat by the stove and tried to keep warm, but could not. The next morning the men paddled down the rived to the Badger dugout in a wagon box. The wagon box was a product of their own making and was all wood, so it served the purpose of a boat.
It should be explained that the reason the roofs of the dugouts and log houses leaked was because of the material used in their construction. Shingles were out of the question to these settlers of small means living one hundred miles from the railroad. There were plenty of trees near the river, so the settlers hewed out logs for ridge poles, then placed willow poles and brush across for a support. On top of that they put dirt and sod. When it rained the water naturally soaked through. The roof would leak for several days after a big rain.
The next dwelling place of the Badger family was a log house built on the south half of the quarter section. For some timethey lived in the log house and kept their stock in the dugout stable on the river bank. Thus they were living during the great April storm of 1873, which lasted for three days. All of the draws and ravines, even the river, were packed full of snow that was solid enough to hold a man up. There was very little snow on the level, it all being in drifts in the low places. The Badgers had a corn field between the log house and the river. While the storm raged Lewis wrapped himself in a blanket, and by following the rows of corn made his way to the dugout stable and fed the horses corn once each day. It was impossible to give them water.
Henry L. Badger was commissioned by Governor Butler the first notary public in Fillmore county. Later he was appointed by acting Governor James, registrar of voters for the election to be held April 21, 1871, to elect officers for the new county. At that election he was elected both county clerk and county surveyor.
In the late sixties when the county was first settled the country abounded in buffalo, deer, antelope, elk, prairie chickens, wild geese, ducks, and turkeys. The muddy stream known as West Blue river was clear and the fish found in it were not of the same variety as those caught now. Wild plums grew in abundance along the river bank and were much larger and of finer quality than the wild plums of today. In those days glass jars for canning were not as plentiful as now, so they picked the plums late in the fall, put them in a barrel and poured water over them and kept them for winter use.
Lewis Badger tells of going on buffalo hunts with his father and seeing herds of thousands of the big animals, and driving for ten hours through the herd. He has now an old silver half dime that he found in an abandoned stage station on the Oregon trail, when on a buffalo hunt.
In early days the settlers did lots of trapping. The Indians were frequent visitors and one time an Indian went with Mr. Badger and his son to look at their traps. In one trap they found a mink. Mr. Badger remarked that they got a mink in that same trap the day before. The Indian said, "Him lucky trap." The Indian would not steal but he wanted the lucky trap, so the next day that trap was gone and another in itsplace. The Indian seemed to get the best of the bargain for it is a fact that they never caught a thing in the trap he left.
Sammy and Luke White, brothers of chief Prairie Chicken of the Omahas, frequently visited the early settlers. Sammy could talk English and was a good interpreter. He told of a big Indian battle in the western part of the state wherein the Sioux and Cheyenne, and Omahas, Otoes, Poncas, and Pawnees all took part and fought for two days and only killed two Indians. His brother, Prairie Chicken, killed one of the Indians and scalped him in the midst of the battle. For that act of bravery he was made a chief. After telling the story of his brother, when asked about himself, Sammy very modestly said, "Me 'fraid, me run."
On one of Mr. Badger's hunting trips he killed a deer. When it was dressed Lewis was sent to the Whitaker dugout with a quarter of the meat. An Indian, Pawnee Jack, happened to be there at the time and it stormed so they had to keep him all night, much to their disgust. Evidently he enjoyed their hospitality, especially the venison, for when they started him on the next morning he inquired where the "papoose" lived that brought the "buckskin," meaning the venison. They told him and he made straight for the Badger dugout and the "buckskin." It stormed so they were forced to keep him there two nights before sending him on.
Although most painfully familiar to every early settler, no pioneer story is complete without the grasshoppers. They came in herds and droves and ate every green thing. For days great clouds of them passed over. The next year they hatched out in great numbers and flew away without hurting anything. Mr. Badger had a nice young orchard that he had planted and tended. The grasshoppers ate the leaves off the trees and as it was early in August they leaved out again and were frozen so they died. Snakes feasted on the hoppers. Since seeing a garter snake at that time just as full of grasshoppers as it could possibly be, Lewis Badger has never killed a snake or permitted one to be killed on his farm. He declared that anything that could make away with so many grasshoppers should be allowed to live. Many people asked for and received the so-called "aid for grasshopper sufferers." In this section of the country itseemed absolutely unnecessary as there had been harvested a good crop of wheat, previous to the coming of the hoppers.
In 1871 the railroad was built through the county. That season Lewis Badger sold watermelons, that he had raised, to the construction gang at work on the road. The town of Fairmont was started the same year. In those days the settlers would walk to town. It was nothing unusual for Mr. and Mrs. Badger and Lewis to walk to Fairmont, a distance of six miles.
When the Badger family settled on their claim, they planted a row of cottonwood trees around it. These trees have made a wonderful growth. In 1911 part of them were sawed into lumber. There are two especially large cottonwood trees on the farm. One measures twenty-six feet in circumference at the base and nineteen feet around five feet above the ground and runs up forty feet before it begins to branch out. The other is thirty-three feet around the base but branches into three trees four feet above the ground.
Mrs. H. L. Badger was a witness of the first wedding in the county, that of Wm. Whitaker and Sabra Brumsey, which took place June 28, 1871. The ceremony was performed by the first county judge, Wm. H. Blaine, who stayed all night at the Badger home and attended the wedding the next day.
Mrs. H. L. Badger died January 11, 1894, and Mr. Badger July 21, 1905. The son Lewis and family still own and farm the old homestead.
The first settlement in Fillmore county, Nebraska, was made in 1866 by Nimrod J. Dixon, a native of Pennsylvania. He was married to Lydia Gilmore, who had previously filed on a homestead adjoining his. Mr. and Mrs. Dixon continued to reside on their homestead until they moved to Fairmont, Nebraska, where they are now living, having lived on the farm forty years.
Mr. and Mrs. Dixon were married February 28, 1867, at the home of Mrs. Dixon's father, Elias Gilmore, near Blue Vale. Mr. Dixon got the license at Nebraska City. From that time until the summer of 1868 they were the only settlers in the county and were seven or eight miles from the nearest neighbor.
In relating her experiences Mrs. Dixon said: "I was afraid to stay alone, so when Mr. Dixon had to go away I went with him or my sisters stayed with me. At that time we had to go to Milford for flour and twenty-five miles to get a plow-lay sharpened. At such times Mr. Dixon would stay at my father's home near Blue Vale and help them two or three days with their breaking, in return for which one of the boys would come and help him.
"The Indians visited us frequently and I was afraid of them. One time a number of them came and two entered the dugout and asked for flour. We gave them as much as we could spare, but they could see the flour sitting on a bench behind the door and wanted more. We refused, but they became very insistent, so much so that Mr. Dixon grabbed a black-snake whip that hung on the wall and started toward them. This show of resistance was all that was necessary. It proved to the Indians that Mr. Dixon was not afraid of them, so they gave him powder and shot to regain his friendship.
"An Indian came in one day and gave me a lot of beads, then he wanted flour, which we gave him. He took it and held it out to me, saying, 'Squaw cook it, squaw cook it!' This I refused to do, so he said, 'Give me the beads, give me the beads.'
"My baby, Arthur, born January 9, 1869, was the first whitechild born in Fillmore county. I recall one time that I was home alone with the baby. An Indian came in and handed me a paper that said he had lost a pony. I assured him that we had seen nothing of the pony. He saw a new butcher knife that was lying on the table, picked it up, and finally drew out his old knife and held it toward me, saying, 'Swap, swap!' I said, 'Yes,' so he went away with my good knife.
"The worst fright I ever did have was not from Indians. My sister Minnie was with me and we were out of salt. Mr. Dixon said he would go across the river to Whitaker's and borrow some. We thought that he wouldn't be gone long so we stayed at home. While he was away a cloud came up and it began to rain. I never did see it rain harder. The river raised, and the water in the ravine in front of the dugout came nearly to the door. The roof leaked so we were nearly as wet indoors as we would have been out. The rain began about four o'clock in the afternoon. It grew dark and Mr. Dixon did not return. We thought that he would certainly be drowned in trying to cross the river. While we were in this state of suspense, the door burst open and a half-clad woman rushed in, saying, 'Don't let me scare you to death.' I was never so frightened in my life, and it was some time before I recognized her as my neighbor, Mrs. Fairbanks.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fairbanks had gone to Whitaker's, who were coopers, to get some barrels fixed for sorghum, and left the children at home. When it rained they thought they must try to cross the river and get to their children. Mr. Dixon came with them. At first they tried to ride horses across, but the one Mrs. Fairbanks was riding refused to swim and threw her into the water, so she had to swim back. They were all excellent swimmers, so they started again in a wagon box which those on land tried to guide by means of a line. With the aid of the wagon box and by swimming they succeeded in getting across. That was in the fall of 1869.
"The only time I ever saw a buffalo skinned was when a big herd stayed a week or more on the south side of the river. Kate Bussard and I stood on the top of the dugout and watched the chase, and after they killed one we went nearer and watched them skin it."
Mr. Dixon took his claim without seeing it. In October, 1866,he went to the land office and learned that he could then take a homestead of one hundred and sixty acres but the new law would soon go into effect providing that settlers could only homestead eighty acres. Mr. Dixon was afraid that he could not go and see the claim and get back to Nebraska City and file on it in time to get one hundred and sixty acres. In telling about it Mr. Dixon says, "I thought it would, indeed, be a poor quarter section that would not have eighty acres of farm land, so I took my chances.
"In the year 1868, the first year that we had any crops planted, it almost forgot to rain at all. The barley was so short that it fell through the cradle. There were no bridges so we had to ford the river. It was hard to haul much of a load across because the wagon would cut into the mud on the two banks while the sandy river bottom would stand a pretty good load. That difficulty I overcame by making bundles or sheaves of willow poles and placing them at the two banks and covering them with sand. Later the settlers made a bridge across the river near the homestead of H. L. Badger. This has ever since been known as the 'Badger Bridge.' The first bridge was made of logs which we procured along the river.
"I was making a hayrack of willow poles at the time of the total eclipse of the sun. It began to grow dark, the chickens went to roost, and it seemed that night was coming on.
"The year 1869 was rainy and we raised good crops and fine potatoes that season. That was the year they were driving Texas cattle up to eat the northern grass and then ship them east over the Union Pacific railroad. The cattle stampeded, so they lost many of them and we saw them around for a year or more.
"My first buffalo hunt was in 1867. The country seemed to be covered with great herds and the Indians were hunting them. Twenty of us started out with five wagons. There were Jake and Boss Gilmore, Jim Johnson, and myself in one wagon. We had only about three days' supplies with us, expecting to get buffalo before these were exhausted, but the Indians were ahead of us and kept the buffalo out of our range. Our party crossed the Little Blue at Deweese. Beyond there we found carcasses of buffalo and a fire where the Indians had burned out a ranch. Realizing that it was necessary for us to take precautions, wechose Colonel Bifkin our leader and decided to strike another trail and thus avoid the Indians if possible. We traveled toward the Republican river but found no track of either buffalo or Indians, so we turned around and followed the Indians. By that time our food supply was exhausted, but by good luck we shot two wild turkeys.
"We were soon following the Indians so closely that we ate dinner where they ate breakfast and by night we were almost in sight of them. We thought it best to put out a guard at night. My station was under a cottonwood tree near a foot-log that crossed a branch of the Little Blue. I was to be relieved at eleven o'clock. I heard something coming on the foot-log. I listened and watched but it was so dark that I could see nothing, but could hear it coming closer; so I shot and heard something drop. Colonel Bifkin, who was near, coming to relieve me, asked what I was shooting at. 'I don't know, perhaps an Indian; it dropped,' I replied. We looked and found merely a coon, but it did good service as wagon grease, for we had forgotten that very necessary article.
"The Indians kept the main herd ahead of them so we were only able to see a few buffalo that had strayed away. We went farther west and got two or three and then went into camp on the Little Blue. We always left a guard at camp and all of the fun came when Boss Gilmore and I were on guard so we missed it. The others rounded up and killed about twenty buffalo. One fell over the bluff into the river and it fell to our lot to get it out and skin it, but by the time we got it out the meat had spoiled. The water there was so full of alkali that we could not drink it and neither could the horses, so we started back, struck the freight road and followed it until we came to Deep Well ranch on the Platte bottom. We had driven without stopping from ten o'clock in the forenoon till two o'clock in the morning. We lay down and slept then, but I was awakened early by chickens crowing. I roused the others of our party and we went in search of something to eat. It had been eight days since we had had any bread and I was never so bread-hungry as then. We came to the Martin home about three miles west of Grand Island and although we could not buy bread, the girls baked biscuits for us and I ate eleven biscuits. That was the home of the twoMartin boys who were pinned together by an arrow that the Indians shot through both of them while riding on one pony.
"That morning I saw the first construction train that came into Grand Island over the Union Pacific railroad. If I remember correctly it was in November, 1867.
"We took home with us five wagonloads of buffalo meat. I did not keep any of the hides because I could not get them tanned. Mr. Gilmore got Indian women to tan a hide for him by giving them sugar and flour. They would keep asking for it and finally got all that was coming to them before the hide was done, so they quit tanning, and Mr. Gilmore had to keep baiting them by giving them more sugar and flour in order to get it done."
Mr. and Mrs. Dixon have eight children, all living. They still own the original homestead that was their home for so many years.
In the fall of 1870, with Mrs. McCashland and two children, Addie and Sammy, I left Livingston county, Illinois, and drove to Fillmore county, Nebraska. We started with two wagons and teams. I had three good horses and one old plug. I drove one team and had a man drive the other until I became indignant because he abused the horses and let him go. Mrs. McCashland drove the second team the rest of the way.
A family of neighbors, Thomas Roe's, were going west at the same time, so we were together throughout the journey until we got lost in the western part of Iowa. The road forked and we were so far behind we did not see which way Roe turned and so went the other way. It rained that night and a dog ate our supplies so we were forced to procure food from a settler. We found the Roe family the next evening just before we crossed the Missouri river, October 15, 1870.
East of Lincoln we met a prairie schooner and team of oxen. An old lady came ahead and said to us, "Go back, good friends, go back!" When questioned about how long she had lived here, she said, "I've wintered here and I've summered here, and God knows I've been here long enough."
When Mrs. McCashland saw the first dugout that she had ever seen, she cried. It did not seem that she could bear to live in a place like that. It looked like merely a hole in the ground.
We finally reached the settlement in Fillmore county and lived in a dugout with two other families until I could build a dugout that we could live in through the winter. That done, I picked out my claim and went to Lincoln to file on it and bought lumber for a door and for window frames.
I looked the claim over, chose the site for buildings, and when home drew the plans of where I wanted the house, stable, well, etc., on the dirt hearth for Mrs. McCashland to see. She felt so bad because she had to live in such a place that I gave it up and went to the West Blue river, which was near, felled trees, andwith the help of other settlers hewed them into logs and erected a log house on the homestead. While living in the dugout Indian women visited Mrs. McCashland and wanted to trade her a papoose for her quilts. When she refused, they wanted her to give them the quilts.
I had just forty-two dollars when we reached Fillmore county, and to look back now one would hardly think it possible to live as long as we did on forty-two dollars. There were times that we had nothing but meal to eat and many days we sent the children to school with only bread for lunch.
I was a civil war veteran, which fact entitled me to a homestead of one hundred and sixty acres. I still own that homestead, which is farmed by my son. After visiting in the East a few years ago I decided that I would not trade my quarter section in Fillmore county for several times that much eastern land.
We came to Nebraska in October of 1870 by wagon and wintered a mile east of what now is the Red Lion mill. We made several trips to Lincoln during the fall and winter and one to Nebraska City, where brother Dan and I shucked corn for a farmer for a dollar a day with team.
I moved on the William Bussard claim, later the Elof Lindgren farm, in March, 1871, and raised a crop, then moved on our homestead in section 24, town 8, range 3 west. We built part dugout and part sodup for a house and slept in it the first night with only the blue sky for a roof. Then we put on poles, brush, hay, dirt, and sod for a roof. This was in October, and we lived in this dugout until 1874, then built a sod house.
In April, 1873, we had a three days' snow storm called a blizzard. In the spring of 1871 I attended the election for the organization of the county of Fillmore. I followed farming as an occupation and in the fall of 1872 William Howell and I bought a threshing machine, which we ran for four seasons. Some of the accounts are still due and unpaid. Our lodging place generally was the straw stack or under the machine and our teams were tied to a wagon, but the meals we got were good. Aside from farming and threshing I put in some of the time at carpentry, walking sometimes six miles back and forth, night and morning.
In July or August, 1874, we had a visit from the grasshoppers, the like of which had never been seen before nor since. They came in black clouds and dropped down by the bushel and ate every green thing on earth and some things in the earth. We had visits from the Indians too but they mostly wanted "hogy" meat or something to fill their empty stomachs. Well, I said we built a sodup of two rooms with a board floor and three windows and two doors, plastered with Nebraska mud. We thought it a palace, for some time, and were comfortable.
In June, 1877, I took a foolish notion to make a fortune andin company with ten others, supplied with six months' provisions, started for the Black Hills. We drove ox teams and were nearly all summer on the road; at least we did not reach the mining places till August. In the meantime the water had played out in the placer mining district so there was "nothing doing." We prospected for quartz but that did not pan out satisfactorily, so we traded our grub that we did not need for gold dust and returned to our homes no richer than when we left. However, we had all of the fresh venison we could use both coming and going, besides seeing a good many Indians and lots of wild country that now is mostly settled up.
I came to Gage county, Nebraska, in the fall of 1865, and homesteaded 160 acres of land, four miles from the village of Beatrice, in the Blue River valley. I built a log house 12x14 feet with one door and two windows. The floor was made of native lumber in the rough, that we had sawed at a mill operated by water power.
With my little family I settled down to make my fortune. Though drouth and grasshoppers made it discouraging at times, we managed to live on what little we raised, supplemented by wild game—that was plentiful. Wild turkeys and prairie chickens could be had by going a short distance and further west there were plenty of buffalo and antelope.
Our first mail was carried from Nebraska City on horseback. The first paper published in Gage county was in 1867 and was called theBlue Valley Record. In 1872 a postoffice was established in the settlement where we lived, which was an improvement over going four miles for mail. For the first schoolhouse built in the district where I lived I helped haul the lumber from Brownville, Nebraska, on the Missouri river, sixty-five miles from the village of Beatrice. The first few crops of wheat we raised were hauled to Nebraska City, as there was no market at home for it. On the return trip we hauled merchandise for the settlement. Every fall as long as wild game was near us we would spend a week or two hunting; to lay in our winter supply of meat. I remember when I came through where the city of Superior now is, first in 1866 and again in 1867, nothing was to be seen but buffalo grass and a few large cottonwood trees. I killed a buffalo near the present town of Hardy.
We have lived in Nebraska continuously since 1865 and it is hard to believe the progress that it has made in these few years.