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         SETTLEMENT BY WHITES. The first settlement in what is now Louisa County is said to have been made in 1834 by Christopher Shuck, who effected a settlement near the mouth of the Iowa River, and near the present village of Toolsboro, in what is now Jefferson Township. The date of his settlement is disputed by some, who think it was one year later. At any rate, his settlement was made at a time when the Indians were yet in undisputed possession of the country, Keokuk Reserve, which comprised a large part of this section of country, not being ceded to the general Government until September, 1836. While it is possible that others had envious eyes upon this fair territory, yet few cared to invade the country of the red men or even settle in close proximity to them. However, in the following year, 1835, a few brave men came in, some of them bringing their families. Among these may be mentioned Philip Harrison, John B. Snowden, Jeremiah Smith, William H. Creighton, Thomas Parsons, James Irwin, William Kennedy, David Morgan, H. Parsons, Robert Childers, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Milligan. In 1836 still others came, among whom were Joseph Higbee, Abraham McCleary, Thomas Stoddard, Wright Williams, William S. Toole, G. Long, Levi Thornton and brother, James H. Williams, G. B. Williams, G. H. Crow, Mr. Humphrey and Mr. Stevens. These may be termed pioneers among pioneers, and it is to them much of the credit is due for the settlement and improvement of the county. They blazed the way through the wilderness and others followed.

In November, 1836, Keokuk and his followers gave peaceable possession to the whites, and at once went further west, though a few remained in the neighborhood, or returned from time to time for some years afterward. But to all intents and purposes the whites were in possession, and improved their opportunities. In 1837 a still greater number came in, staked their claims, erected their cabins, and commenced living a pioneer life. Little can those of the present day realize the life of the pioneer. The following, though it may not apply in all cases, is a faithful description of the life in general of those who first settled in this fair land:

The first business of a settler on reaching the place where he intended to fix his residence, was to select his claim and mark it off as nearly as he could without a compass. This was done by stepping and staking, or blazing the lines as he went. The absence of section lines rendered it necessary to take the sun at noon and at evening as a guide by which to run their claim lines. So many steps each way counted 320 acres, more or less, at one time the legal area of a claim. It may be readily supposed that these lines were far from correct, but . . .

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. . . they answered all necessary claim purposes, for it was understood among the settlers that when the lands came to be surveyed and entered, all inequalities should be righted. Thus, if a surveyed line should happen to run between adjoining claims cutting off more or less of the other, the fraction was to be added to whichever lot required equalizing, yet without robbing the one from which it was taken, for an equal amount would be added to it in another place.

The next important business was to build a house; until this was done some had to camp on the ground or live in their wagons, perhaps the only shelter they had known for weeks. So the prospect for a house, which was also to be home, was one that gave courage to the rough toil, and added zest to the heavy labors. The style of the home entered very little into their thoughts—it was shelter they wanted, and protection from stress of weather and wearing exposure. The poor settler had neither the money nor the mechanical appliances for building himself a house. He was content in most instances to have a mere cabin or hut. Some of the most primitive constructions of this kind were half-faced, or, as they were sometimes called, “cat-faced” sheds or “wike-ups,” the Indian term for house or tent. It is true a claim cabin was a little more in the shape of a human habitation, made, as it was, of round logs light enough for two or three men to lay up, about fourteen feet square—perhaps a little larger or smaller—roofed with bark or clapboards, and sometimes with the sods of the prairie, and floored with puncheons (logs split once in two and the flat side laid up) or with earth. For a fireplace, a wall of stone and earth—frequently the latter only, when stone was not convenient—was made in the best practicable shape for the purpose, in an opening in one end of the building, extending outward, and planked on the outside by bolts of wood notched together to stay it. Frequently a fireplace of this kind was made so capacious as to occupy nearly the whole width of the house. In cold weather, when a great deal of fuel was needed to keep the atmosphere above freezing point—for this wide-mouthed fireplace was a huge ventilator—large logs where piled into this yawning space. To protect the crumbling back wall against the effects of fire, two back logs were placed against it, one upon the other. Sometimes these back logs were so large that they could not be got in any other way than to hitch a horse to them, drive him in at one door, unfasten the log before the fireplace, from whence it was placed in proper position, and then drive him out at the other door. For a chimney any contrivance that would conduct the smoke up the chimney would do. Some were made of sods, plastered upon the inside with clay; others—the more common, perhaps—were of the kind we occasionally see in use now, clay and sticks, or “cat in clay,” as they were sometimes called. Imagine of a winter’s night, when the storm was having its own wild way over this almost uninhabited land, and when the wind was roaring like a cataract of cold over the broad wilderness, and the settler had to do his best to keep warm, what a royal fire this double-back-logged and well-filled fireplace would hold! It must have been a cozy place to smoke, provided the settler had any tobacco; or for the wife to sit knitting before, provided she had needles and yarn. At any rate, it must have given something of cheer to the conversation, which was very likely upon the home and friends they had left behind when they started out on this bold venture of seeking fortunes in a new land.

For doors and windows, the simplest contrivances that would serve the purpose were brought into requisition. The door was not always immediately provided with a shutter, and a blanket often did duty in guarding the entrance. But as soon as convenient some boards were split and put together, hung upon wooden hinges, and held shut by a wooden pin inserted in an auger hole. As a substitute for window-glass, greased paper, pasted over sticks crossed in the shape of sash, was sometimes used. This admitted the light and excluded the air, but of course lacked transparency.

In regard to the furniture of such a cabin, of course it varied in proportion to the ingenuity of the occupants, unless it was where settlers brought with them their old household supply, which, owing to the distance most of them had come, was very seldom. It was enough to improvise tables and chairs; the former could be made of split logs . . .

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. . . ---and there were instances where the door would be taken from its hinges and used at meals, after which it would be rehung—and the latter were designed after the three-legged stool pattern, or benches served their purpose. A bedstead was a very important item in the domestic comfort of the family, and this was the fashion of improvising it: A forked stake was driven into the ground diagonally from the corner of the room and at a proper distance, upon which poles reaching from each were laid. The wall ends of the poles either rested in the opening between the logs or were driven into auger holes. Barks or boards were used as a substitute for cords. Upon this the tidy housewife spread her straw tick, and if she had a home-made feather bed, she piled it up in a luxurious mound and covered it with her whitest drapery. Some sheets hung behind it for tapestry added to the coziness of the resting-place. This was generally called a “prairie bedstead,” and by some the “prairie rascal.” In design it is surely quite equal to the famous Eastlake models, being about as primitive and severe, in an artistic sense, as one could wish.

The house thus far along was left to the deft devices of the wife to complete its comforts, and the father of the family was free to superintend out-of-doors affairs. If it was in season his first important duty was to prepare some ground for planting, and to plant what he could. This was generally done in the edge of the timber, where most of the very earliest settlers located. Here the sod was easily broken, not requiring the heavy teams and plows needed to break the prairie sod. Moreover, the nearness of the timber offered greater conveniences for fuel and building. And still another reason for this was that the groves afforded protection from the terrible conflagrations that occasionally swept across the prairies. Though they passed through the patches of timber, yet it was not with the same destructive force with which they rushed over the prairies. Yet by these fires much of the young timber was killed from time to time, and the forest kept thin and shrubless.

The first year’s farming consisted mainly of a “truck patch,” planted in corn, potatoes, turnips, etc. Generally the first year’s crop fell far short of supplying even the most rigid economy of food. Many of the settlers brought with them small stores of such things as seemed indispensable to frugal living, such as flour, bacon, coffee and tea. But these supplies were not inexhaustible, and once used were not easily replaced. A long winter must come and go before another crop could be raised. If game was plentiful, it helped to eke out their limited supplies.

But even when corn was plentiful the preparation of it was the next difficulty in the way. The mills for grinding it were at such long distances that every other devise was resorted to for reducing it to meal. Some grated it on an implement made by punching small holes through a piece of tin or sheet-iron, and fastening it upon a board in concave shape, with the rough side out. Upon this the ear was rubbed to produce the meal. But grating could not be done when the corn became so dry as to shell off when rubbed. Some used a coffee-mill for grinding it. A very common substitute for bread was hominy, a palatable and wholesome diet, made by boiling corn in a weak lye until the hull peeled off, after which it was well washed to cleanse it of the lye. It was then boiled again to soften it, when it was ready for use, as occasion required, by frying and seasoning it to the taste. Another mode of preparing hominy was by pestling. A mortar was made by burning a bowled-shape cavity in the even end of an upright block of wood. After thoroughly cleaning it of the charcoal, the corn could be put in, hot water turned upon it, when it was subjected to a severe pestling by a club of sufficient length and thickness, in the large end of which was inserted an iron wedge, banded to keep it in place. The hot water would soften the corn and loosen the hull, while the pestle would crush it.

Not the least among the pioneers’ tribulation was the going to mill. The slow mode of travel by ox-teams was made still slower by the almost total absence of roads and bridges. The distance to be traversed was often forty to sixty miles. In dry weather, common sloughs or creeks offered little impediment to the teamsters, but during floods and breaking up of winter they proved exceedingly troublesome and dangerous. To get stuck in a slough, and thus be delayed for many hours, was no . . .

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. . . uncommon occurrence, and that too when time was an item of grave import to the comfort, and sometimes even the lives, of the settlers’ families. Often a swollen stream would blockade the way, seeming to threaten destruction to whomever should attempt to ford it. With regard to roads, there were none worthy of the name. Indian trails were common, but they were unfit to travel on with vehicles.

When the early settlers were compelled to make these long and difficult trips to mill, if the country was prairie over which they passed they found it comparatively easy to do in summer, when grass was plentiful. By traveling until night, and then camping out to feed the teams, they got along without much difficulty. But in winter such a journey was attended with no little danger. The utmost economy of time was, of course, necessary. When the goal was reached, after a week or more of toilsome travel, with many exposures and risks, and the poor man was impatient to immediately return with the desired staff of life, he was often shocked and disheartened with the information that his turn would come in a week. Then he must look about for some means to pay expenses, and he was lucky who could find some employment by the day or job. Then, when his turn came, he had to be on hand to bolt his own flour, as in these days the bolting machine was not an attached part of the other mill machinery. This done, the anxious soul was ready to endure the trials of a return trip, his heart more or less concerned about the affairs of home.

These milling trips often occupied from three weeks to more than a month each, and were attended with an expense, in one way or another, that rendered the cost of breadstuffs extremely high. If made in the winter, when more or less grain feed was required for the team, the load would be found to be so considerably reduced on reaching home, that the cost of what was left, adding other expenses, would make their grain reach the high cost figure of from $3 to $5 per bushel. And these trips could not always be made at the most favorable season for traveling. In spring and summer so much time could hardly be spared from other essential labor; yet, for a large family, it was almost impossible to avoid making three or four trips during the year.

The land sales were an important era in the lives of the pioneers. In his “Sketches of Iowa,” Newhall says:

“Many are the ominous indications of the approach among the settlers of the land sale. Every dollar is sacredly treasured up. The precious ‘mint drops’ take to themselves wings and fly away from the merchant’s till to the farmer’s cupboard. Times are dull in the towns, for the settler’s home is dearer and sweeter than the merchant’s sugar and coffee. At length the wished-for day arrives. The suburbs of the town present the scene of a military camp. The settlers have flocked from far and near. The hotels are thronged to overflowing. Bar-rooms, dining-rooms and wagons are metamorphosed into bedrooms. The sale being announced from the land-office, the township bidder stands near by with register book in hand, each settler’s name attached to his respective quarter or half section, and thus he bids off in the name of the whole township for each respective claimant. A thousand settlers are standing by, eagerly listening when their quarter shall be called off. The crier has passed the well-known numbers. His house is secure. He feels relieved. The litigation of claim-jumping is over forever. He is lord of the soil. With an independent step he walks into the land-office, opens the time-worn saddle bags, and counts out $200 or $400, silver or gold, takes his certificate from the General Government, and goes his way rejoicing. Such a scene have I witnessed, which continued for three successive weeks, in which time nearly half a million of money was taken from the actual settlers of Iowa. It is an interesting sight to witness thousands of our fellow-beings, who, having planted themselves in a new country, are patiently waiting for the hour to arrive when they can buy their homes, and the land from which they earn their bread. These are the embryo scenes in the settlement of this new country which mark the progress of the pioneer, who, as yesterday, verging upon the forests of Ohio and Kentucky, is now beyond the western shore of the Mississippi.”

The claim-making of the early settlers in Iowa was a mode of settlement peculiar to that portion . . .

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. . . of the public domain which was occupied prior to its being surveyed by the General Government. Newhall, in his “Sketches of Iowa,” states that by mutual concession and an honorable adherence to neighborhood regulations, claim-making was governed by a pro-tem law, which answered the purpose of general protection for the homes of the settlers until their land came into the market. So general did this usage become, and so united were the interests of the settlers, that it was deemed extremely hazardous as well as highly dishonorable for a speculator or stranger to bid upon a claim, even though it was not protected by a “pre-emption right.” More than one “war” was waged when such attempts as that were made, almost invariably resulting in the rout of the interloper. Blood in some instances was shed in defense of these recognized rights. When it was clearly understood what improvements constituted a claim, and when the settler conformed to the “by-laws” of his neighborhood or township, it was just as much respected for the time being as if the occupant had the Government patent for it. For instance, if an emigrant came into the country for location, he looked from county to county for a location. After having placed himself he set about making an improvement. To break five acres of ground would hold his claim for six months; or if a cabin was built, eight logs high with a roof, which was equivalent to the plowing, he held it six months longer. He then staked out his half-section of land, which was a full claim, generally one-quarter timber, and one-quarter prairie, and then his home was secure from trespass by any one. If he chose to sell his “claim,” he was at perfect liberty to do so, and the purchaser succeeded to all the rights and immunities of the first settler. As an evidence of the respect in which these claim-rights were held by the people of Iowa, we quote here an act of the Legislative council of the Territory, passed Jan. 15, 1839, entitled, “An act to provide for the collection of demands growing out of contracts for sales of improvements on public lands.”

“Be it enacted, that all contracts, promises, assumpsits, or undertakings, either written or verbal, which shall be made hereafter in good faith, and without fraud, collusion or circumvention, for sale, purchase or payment of improvements made on the lands owned by the Government of the United States, shall be deemed valid in law or equity, and may be sued for and recovered as in other contracts.

“That all deeds of quit-claim, or other conveyance of all improvements upon public lands, shall be as binding and effectual, in law and equity, between the parties for conveying the title of the grantor in and to the same, as in cases where the grantor has the fee simple to the premises conveyed.”

Previous to land being brought into market each township, nearly, had its own organization throughout the Territory. This was to prevent unpleasant litigation, and to keep up a spirit of harmony among neighbors, and the better to protect them in their equitable rights of “claim” purchase. “A call-meeting” was announced something after this fashion: “The citizens of township 72 north, range 5 west, are requested to meet as ‘Squire B_____’s, at Hickory Grove (or as the place or the time might be), to adopt the necessary measures for securing their homes, at the approaching land sales at B_____.” After a short preamble and set of resolutions, suited to the occasion, a “Register” was appointed, whose duty it was to record the name of each claimant to his respective “claim.” A “bidder” was also appointed, whose duty it was, on the day of sale, to bid off all the land previously registered in the name of each respective claimant. Thus everything moved along at the land sales with the harmony and regularity of clock-work; but if any one present was found bidding over the minimum price of $1.25 per acres on land registered in the township, woe be unto him! When any controversy arose between the neighbors relative to trespassing, or, in common parlance, “jumping a claim,” it was arbitrated by a committee appointed for that purpose, and their decision was considered final.

Among other things calculated to annoy and distress the pioneer was the prevalence of wild beasts of prey, the most numerous and troublesome of which was the wolf. While it was true, in a figurative sense, that it required the utmost care and exertion to “keep the wolf from the door,” it was almost true in a literal sense.

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There were two species of these animals—the large, black timber wolf, and the smaller gray wolf that usually inhabited the prairie. At first it was next to impossible for a settler to keep small stock of any kind that would serve as a prey to these ravenous beasts. Sheep were not deemed safe property until years after, when their enemies were supposed to be nearly exterminated. Large numbers of wolves were destroyed during the early years of settlement—as many as fifty in a day in a regular wolf-hunt. When they were hungry, which was not uncommon, particularly during the winter, they were too indiscreet for their own safety, and would often approach within easy shot of the settler’s dwellings. At certain seasons their wild, plaintive yelp or bark could be heard in all directions at all hours of the night, creating intense excitement among the dogs, whose howling would add to the dismal melody.

But the pioneer life was not entirely one of hardship. At certain seasons of the year there were the wolf hunts, the corn huskings, the quilting bees, the candy pullings, the singing school, the spelling school, and last, but far from least, the time when the good old father would gather his family together, and all attend divine service, either at a neighbor’s or at the annual camp-meeting, when all who could sing did sing, and those who could not sing “made a joyful noise unto the Lord,” and all felt extremely happy and thankful for the good things provided them by the Giver of all good.

As time passed other settlers besides those whose names are given came in, and soon Louisa County was ready to take its place among the other counties of the Territory.

The question of the first white child born in Louisa County has been a matter of dispute, and the historian has had given him the names of several who claimed that honor. In the biographical sketches that precede this historical narrative mention is made of several. One now comes forward with a claim that seems to set the matter at rest. W. M. Milligan, a publisher of Dallas, Tex., in a letter to the Wapello Record, under date of Sept. 5, 1888, says that he was born in Elliott Township Jan. 7, 1836. This would seem to settle the matter. The President of the Old Settlers’ Society in 1888, James Higbee, was doubtless the first born in the southern part of the county, the date of his birth being in September, 1836.