The Journey Continued.
On leaving Moscow
it was with different feelings from those, which we had hitherto
experienced. Our destination was no longer vague and shadowy, but
definitely fixed. True, there was no house nor shelter of any kind
except the trees, and not a foot of ground was enclosed with even the
rudest fence, but the lines had been traced out, and the stakes had
been set, and the trees marked where our home was to be, and our
parents knew the way thither.
First Entrance Into Linn County.
I cannot now
recall anything of importance that occurred on the way until we
reached Linn Grove, where we found a few log cabins. In conversation
with one of the women that occupied one of these primitive abodes, we
found that her language was so different from anything that we were
accustomed to, that it left a decided impression on our minds and was
a source of no little amusement to us children. Some of her peculiar
expressions were by-words with us for many years. She seemed very
cordial and ready, as everybody was, to welcome newcomers; and she was
quite communicative, although her accounts were not always of the most
encouraging and inspiring character to the new arrivals. She often
made use of words “heap” and “right smart” and “mighty good or bad,”
all of which sounded to us very strange. “There is a heap of hard work
and dreadful poor living here,” she remarked, and then pointing to the
tall trees that surrounded us, she said: “There is a heap of linn
here.
To our inquiry as
to the best way to the county seat, she said, as she surveyed our
little caravan, “Come right straight ahead and go right straight
through,” which was about as definite as she could be, as there was
scarcely any track to indicate our course. We, however, followed her
direction and went forward, and in an hour or two found ourselves on
the clean virgin prairie where now stands our beautiful little twin
sister city of Marion.
I have heard my
oldest half brother, C. C. Cook, say that there were probably not more
than half a dozen families in the county at the time of our arrival.
This may not be strictly accurate, but I am sure that the number was
very small. The larger portion of the inhabitants were men who had
come on in advance of their families to secure their claims and erect
some kind of a shelter for them when they came. There must have been
some kind of a county organization, for when we arrived, the point of
its judicial centre had already been fixed as above indicated.
Reaching the County Seat.
It was in the
afternoon of the 4th of July, 1839, when we reach the
county seat, and the only thing to mark the spot was a bower of bushes
under which our nation’s birthday had been celebrated in primitive
style, and in which, judging from the hilarious demonstrations of two
or three men that we met by the way, whiskey must have played a
somewhat conspicuous part. A little at one side of the town site,
L. M. Strong, Esq., had a little cabin. I do not remember to have
seen either this cabin or its tenants at that time, but Mr. Strong
was for many years after a well-known and highly honored citizen of
this place.
The Bassett Home.
Passing on beyond
Marion, we crossed Indian Creek about a mile north of the present
crossings where there was a beautiful crystal spring, near which was a
little cabin, occupied by Mr. James W. Bassett.
Lewis’ Bark Cabin.
From this point,
turning in a southwesterly direction, we found our way by a dim track
through the woods reaching, towards night, the little bark shanty of
Ephraim T. Lewis, near where now stands the stone barn just
south of the boulevard two miles west of Marion. Mr. Lewis and his
son-in-law, Nathaniel G. Niece, were there and gave us a hearty
welcome and most cordial invitation to share their hospitality over
night, which we gladly accepted. This frail bark tenement was given up
very cordially and generously by the owner to the use of the women for
a sleeping apartment, while the men and boys in the company sought
shelter and lodging in the tent and wagons.
This little bark
shanty was so unlike anything that I have ever seen that I think a
more minute description of it may not be amiss in this place.
The bark was
taken from the trunks of basswood trees eighteen inches or two feet in
diameter, perhaps, and from cuts seven or eight feet long, or as high
as you wished to make the building. From these logs the bark was
stripped off entire, making one piece, when set up on end and
unrolled, as high as the house and several feet wide. To keep the bark
from curling up in the sun, two straight poles were fastened together
and the bark placed between them at the top and bottom. The roof was
made of the same material and in the same way. It made a very neat
little cabin from the outside appearance, and in the inside it was as
white and clean as the most fastidious house-wife could wish.
Mr. E. T. Lewis Described.
Mr. Lewis
was a large, fleshy man, wide awake and good natured and full of
enthusiasm. He was a Methodist by profession, and often exhorted the
people with great fervor and zeal. His religion was good so far as it
went, but I am sorry to say that it did not go far enough, for he had
the reputation of not being very reliable in his statements nor in his
business transactions. However, in general terms he proved to be a
very good neighbor, always accommodating and ready to work for the
public good, though somewhat grasping in disposition and fond of
preferment.
Mr. Lewis’
family did not arrive till the following autumn or early winter. The
family consisted of Mrs. Lewis, two sons, William and
Wilbert, two daughters, Zipporah and Sarah, the
former the wife of Mr. N. G. Niece, and the latter a young girl
of 12 years of age, perhaps.
The family was
held in high esteem and we regarded them as very valuable acquisitions
to our society.
Mrs. Lewis
was a women of great excellence of character, who won the hearts of
all her pioneer associates by her uniform kindness of disposition and
her many generous and neighborly acts. It was a dire misfortune to the
family and a great sorrow to the neighborhood when, some five years
later, Mrs. Lewis was suddenly called away by death. The family
was soon broken up and scattered after this sad event, and their
subsequent history, especially that of the three younger children, had
better remain unwritten.
Mr. Lewis
married quite happily a second time, but he seemed to be somewhat
unfortunate in his business transactions. He died a few years later
near his old claim where we first met him.
The Jewell Hut.
Leaving Mr.
Lewis’ primitive home on the morning of July 5th, we
passed on a half mile west to the little hut of Mr. Jewell
which stood on the ground which has since been occupied for fifty-four
years as the home of our highly esteemed fellow-citizen, Mr. Barnet
Lutz. This little hut, built of poles and prairie grass, held the
only family between Indian Creek north of Marion and Cedar Rapids. Mr.
Jewell had a wife and two or three children. The walls of this unique
structure were made by setting up two rows of poles, say six inches
apart, and filling up the space between with prairie hay. The covering
was of the same abundant material – poles and grass. The sleeping
apartments were placed one above the other like berths in a steamer,
though not quite so elaborately furnished. The children, of course,
were placed in the upper berths, not only as a matter of convenience,
but as a precautionary measure against the encroachments of the
numerous wolves and wild cats and other beasts of prey which often
prowled about the nights in search of something to satisfy their
hunger.
Mrs. Jewell
was the only white woman mother saw outside of our family for six
months after our arrival. She saw plenty of squaws, however, for the
Indians were still on the ground in great numbers.
A. B. Mason.
Passing on,
perhaps sixty or eighty rods west of Mr. Jewell’s through the tall
grass, we found Mr. A. B. Mason breaking up prairie on the
higher ground just north of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul
railroad, at a point forty or fifty rods west of the boulevard
crossing at Kenwood. This, I think, was the first furrow plowed
between Marion and Cedar Rapids.
Mr. Mason’s
little cabin stood on the side of the hill near Indian Creek not far
from Mr. McKee’s residence. Mr. Mason was rather a prim
looking bachelor, probably forty-five or fifty years of age, and on
Sundays and state occasions sported a silk hat, a little out of style,
possibly, but on the whole he made a very good appearance. He was a
man of more than ordinary intelligence, and very good material for a
justice of the peace, which office he filled in after years with
becoming dignity and always with satisfaction to the winning side.
Mr. Mason said that he often heard the tread of wild animals about
his cabin at night, and could hear them crack the bones and devour the
crumbs that had been thrown out from his table. |
