John Duffield Reminiscence

DUFFIELD

Posted By: Volunteer - Cathy Joynt Labath
Date: 12/17/2002 at 17:45:20

The Keosauqua Republican
Keosauqua, Van Buren, Iowa
Thursday,May 27, 1880

EARLY REMINISCENCE
BY JOHN DUFFIELD

I was born in Salem Jefferson county, Ohio Sep. 1st 1820. My father moved from that place to Steubenville the county seat in 1820 remained there until late in the fall of 33 at which time he emigrated to Fulton county Ill., with his family consisting of father and mother and seven children, five boys and two girls and landed at the mouth of Spoon river about the last of Nov. This river empties into the Illinois near Havana about 16 miles from where we intended to stop. We remained there two days and nights in an old log cabin. It was neither chinked or daubed. The chimney was built up with sticks and was also without the usual filling in of sand, and to keep from smoking us out we wrapped the wagon sheet around it. We have heard the hanck of the wild goose, owls hoot, wolves howl since that time, but have got used to them. We were glad when the time came for us to leave that place. We had relatives who lived 16 miles away, who came with their teams, who had procured us a cabin to winter in some two miles off from there. It was about 16 feet square with an addition of a small shanty which was filled in with black mud, and remained there until the spring of 37 when we emigrated to Van Buren county. My father and I came in the fall of 36 to build a cabin or a claim to land taken in the summer. When we got to the Mississippi river the ice was running so thick we could not cross, and were detained there a week, during which time with others that wanted to cross, built a small flat boat and succeeded in crossing. We formed the acquaintance of a Mr. Growoll and Hardin, who lived near Utica and travelled in company and staid over night with them. We reached the Des Moines river above Keosauqua next day at a Mr. Ely's, it was snowing all the time very hard and found a cleaver [sic] set of folks there. Mrs. Ely helped me get supper. She knew how to bake corndodgers, so we had a spliced supper. Our party consisted of three, father, and a man by the name of Swearinger and myself. It snowed most of the night and was very deep in the morning. Our claim was about 4 miles off and the river to cross. We started with Mr. Ely as a pilot and crossed the river above Pittsburg and worried our way as best we might until we arrived at our claim and then prepared for camp. We took off our wagon-bed and set it on the snow. It was one of those old fashioned ones with stirrups on the side boards. So we let one side board down and drove two forks in the ground, and put a pole on them and then raised the wagon bows into the pole, and this made a very good tent. We then cut some large logs and rolled them in front for a fire. We drove stakes in the ground and rolled the logs against them one on top of the other until we had a nice backwall, then built a huge old fire in front to them which made it quite warm in our tent. We got our supper, then laid plans for the next day. Father and Swearinger were to chop logs and I was to hall [sic] them. It was very hard getting about on account of the snow but we ...[crease in paper, cannot read two lines]...noon, it was quite pleasant and thawing. We staid all night at Mr. Samuel Clayton's; it was still thawing in the morning about daylight, and we had come fears about crossing the river, but crossed to safety. And then came one one of those sudden changes in the weather we sometimes experience in Iowa. It grew very cold with a drifting snow, and it was almost impossible to keep our team in the direction we were traveling. There was but one house between Clayton's and Grewells on our route, and that was Goodalls, not far from where is now Summit Station. We stopped there to warm and found quite a log heap burning in the center of the cabin without any floor except a dirt one. We warmed and then started for Grewells and arrived there about sun setting. Father was nearly chilled to death and we had to carry him into the house. Swearingen and I slept in the wagon that night, and it was so bitter cold next day that we concluded to lay up. The snow had drifted so that it was all we could do to get to Fort Madison the day after the storm. The next morning we crossed the Mississippi on the ice, it was very thin and smooth, and our horses not being shod behind we tied rags on their feet, ours being the first team that crossed after the river closed, and arrived at home with out further mishap.

We started back to Iowa in the Spring with oxen and horse teams, and the family; were were two weeks coming 100 miles, the road being very bad. The river was high and we had to ferry by making a boat with two canoes, we laid slabs or rather puncheon from one canoe to the other, by which we conveyed our teams, the women and the little ones across safely, and arrived at Samuel Claytons, the father of J.H. Clayton, where we staid until we got a house ready to go into which was not very long, as our claim had been jumped to use a phrase in the parlance of the country by * * * * and he had put up a cabin, and we soon got ready to go into without daubing a chimbly very high. The supposition with us was that the man that had raised the cabin might come and take possession of it after night and give us some trouble. So some of us concluded to stay, and two of Swearingen's boys, two of my brothers and myself.

There was about one hundred Indians making sugar about a mile from the house and their horses came and trod around the house and made considerable fuss, and I tell you there was a set of boys that did not sleep much that night. We soon became familiar with the Indians and could sleep as sound as though there was not one in the country. They made sugar two springs after we came here close to us, and never molested anything of ours. They would borrows axes and other things and always brought them back when they promised. We visited their camps and we would always get some sugar to eat, when they had it, and perhaps it was clean; as Indians are clean. But no difference, we had to eat it. I recollect of going with several other boys, or rather young men, to a wigwam, a young squaw got a wooden bowl and picked up a piece of buckskin that lay on the floor, and wiped the dish to put some sugar in it for us to eat. It was a dirt floor and you may guess how clean the buckskin was. We would rather eat of the sugar than offend our neighbors. One of those boys was J.H. Clayton.

I have seen Black Hawk, Appanoose, Keokuk and Hardfish. I heard Hardfish made a speech at Agency City at a payment. There were 22 hundred Indians. Black Hawk's prophet was dressed in the most ridiculous manner, he had a buffalo skin in its natural state wrapped around him, it had the horns on, and was painted red, the other yellow, it had the ears and tail on it making as frightful a sight as I have ever seen.

We lived one entire winter on bread stuff made by hand we cold boil corn in the ear and then turn a smoothing plane upside down over a hominey block, and take the ear in our hands and plain it off, then pound it awhile and then bake without running through a sieve. I made sweet bread stuff but very coarse.