Source: REGISTER OF OLD SETTLERS , BOOK One, page 386, 389, 390 & 393
submitted by Neal Carter, October 13, 2007


The 37th Annual Reunion of the Muscatine Pioneers
September 13, 1893


General Greetings and Hand-Shaking – A

Picnic Dinner – President Walton’s Address – An Original Poem, Etc., Etc

Although there was some appearance of rain this morning (which would have been welcome under any circumstances after the long dry spell) yet the clouds cleared away and the sun shone brightly before the time for the old settlers to assemble in Park Place at 10 o’clock. The place of meeting proved to be all that is claimed for it – one of the most delightful resorts for picnic parties.

The old settlers were slow in coming together – in fact, many in the city deferred going to the grounds till after dinner. The forenoon was spent in hand-shaking and greetings. Families joined in groups and took dinner in picnic fashion, which seemed to be much enjoyed.

At 2 o’clock President Walton called the assembly to order. Dr. Robbins, the pioneer preacher, opened the proceedings with prayer, when President Walton delivered his annual address as follows:

    Old Settlers, Ladies and Gentlemen: In choosing a subject for our short address to the old settlers we have always made it a point to get well back. There is one advantage, if no other, in this position, and that is there are few left to dispute or correct one’s assertions. This time we will be more recent in our remarks and will not go beyond the memory of many of those present.

    In Bloomington (now Muscatine) we have many prominent land-marks. The old wind mill, belonging to Mr. Abraham Smalley, was probably the most conspicuous. It stood on the very summit of the hill, at the south corner of Cherry and Third streets – an immense white building, about 40 feet square and fully 40 feet high. It served as a land-mark for the whole river valley between Andalusia and New Boston. It was erected early in the ‘40’s and stood until about 1865, when it was removed. At one time it was the only sash and door manufactory in the town. Mr. Smalley also manufactured wind-mills and cultivators, and ground corn, when the wind blew. The wind’s irregularity made it unreliable as a power. When the sash factory in Mr. Freeman’s wooden building near Pappoose creek, and Stein & Hill’s planing mill, started, the wind mill was stopped. Little use was made of it afterwards. I think I can safely say it was the first manufactory in our city.

    Early in the ‘40’s the German began to come and with him came the brewery. One of the first and most conspicuous stood at the west corner of Fifth and Cedar streets, where the German Congregational church now stands. This, like most early breweries, was used for dwelling and brewery. At one time there was considerable lager beer made here. On an unlucky day the brewer fell in one of his vats and was drowned. This accident stopped the business in the brewing line. After that event it was said that the ghost of the brewer would frequently return to visit the occupants of the building.

    A few brick buildings were erected in the early ‘40’s. It is probable that the oldest one now standing is the old Fletcher house, now the residence of J. M. Kemble. This was quite a noted house. It was erected by Hon. Ralph P. Lowe not later than 1841. Mr. Lowe was practicing law as a member of the firm Lowe & Deshler. He afterwards became Governor of Iowa. If I have been correctly informed he went into the mill business at the Lowe Run and contracted a debt that eventually took the house.

    Schools in those days were quite scarce, so Mr. Lowe built a school house some 200 or 300 yards beyond the dwelling house, on the other side of the road, (now known as Lucas street.) The walls are yet standing but it is used for a dwelling. In the gable next to the road he left a place for a tablet. Rev. Dr. A. B. Robbins says that in 1845, Lowe asked him for an inscription to put on the tablet. He gave him: “The child is master of the man.” It was, however, never put on the school house. This building was used for school purposes for nearly 25 years, during the time the Fletcher, the Warfield and the Jennison families were prominent students. Mr. Jennison occupied the first house beyond the school house, on the north side of Lucas Grove road, just beyond the five-mile square road. The house is yet standing. After Mr. Jennison moved into the town it was purchased by David R. Warfield.

    During Mr. Warfield’s sojurn in the city, it was our good fortune to be invited to the young folks’ party at his house. The guests had all arrived, and without the consent of the old folks, who were strong church people, a violin had been secured and was brought out. This caused a commotion. The old folks objected. We were all likely to be sent home and their children possibly to bed. But as they were mostly young ladies, a compromise was finally arrived at. The father was to read a chapter of the Bible, make a few remarks, to be followed by prayer, when all were to knell. The prayer was quite lengthy. While the religious exercises were embarrassing to several present, they were not to me, for we had been living among the country Methodists and knew what to look for. After the prayer the old folks withdrew and “the dance went merrily on.” After Mr. Warfield sold his house on Mulberry street to A. O. Patterson, he returned to this farm and raised his family and patronized the Fletcher school house.

    While talking about school houses, we will say that the first Catholic school in the city was in the old Catholic church, and was opened on the 22d day of May, 1852. This old church is yet standing on the alley in the rear of the Graham drug store, on the east side of Cedar street, north of Second street.

    As before stated, we purpose to mention some of the more modern events of Muscatine’s history. In 1850 we were engaged in building plank roads – one to Tipton and Marion, the “Muscatine and Linn County Graded Road,” one to Iowa City, the capital of the State, and another to Oskaloosa. The Oskaloosa Company contracted with John H. Wallace to build a bridge across the ravine at Lowe Run, and with a St. Louis company to build one across Cedar river. Wallace’s bridge was constructed. The Cedar river’s bridge was partially finished, but blew down before completion. This bridge was under the supervision of Jos. Bennett. “The Linn County Graded Road,” under the supervision of Dr. James Weed, was graded several miles in the country, but the grade never reached Tipton. “The Iowa City Road,” was never commenced.

    The population of the city of Muscatine on November 30, 1850, was 2,900. Its revenue, all told, was $6,413.48. (The census of Chicago at the same time was 28,620, not quite ten times as large as Muscatine.)

    A word on the price of produce: At that time (1850) no pork was sold on foot. Hogs had to be killed and dressed. Prices were for dressed hogs, weighing from 150 to 200 pounds, $2.25 per hundred, from 200 to 250 pounds, $2.75; over 250 pounds, $3.00. This would make a 300 pound hog on foot worth about $2 per hundred. Wheat sold from 45 to 50 cents per bushel, corn from 15 to 20 cents, Brown sugar 9 to 10 cents, salt 40 to 50 cents per hundred pounds. Think for a moment of hauling wheat and pork 60 miles to exchange for sugar, etc., at those prices. Yet all the settlers of Linn county had to do it.

    The first railroad meeting in this county was held in Muscatine Dec. 18th, 1850. It elected 64 delegates to attend a railroad convention to be held at Muscatine Dec. 27th, 1850.

    In 1851 the three story building now occupied by M. Benham was commenced by the Masonic fraternity. It was first built four stories high, the Masons occupying the fourth story. This, like many other public buildings of our city, was started without a proper superintendent. A bad foundation was the result, all of which had to be removed and replaced with a new one.

    The Ogilvie House, now the Commercial, was commenced the same year, and, like the Masonic building, it had a bad foundation. Most of it has been replaced with a new one.

    The corner stone of the present Episcopal church was laid on Nov. 11th, 1851. Its foundation seems to have been good.

    On October 4th, the carpenters organized what would now be called a union and adopted a scale of prices. The old Cincinnati bill was taken as a basis. At that time every carpenter was a contractor. We had few or no journeymen.

    On the 29th of August, 1851, Muscatine met with a very serious loss. Bennett’s mill (now the oat meal mill) was burned out, with a loss to Mr. Bennett of $15,000. Mr. Bennett soon rebuilt it, but taking $30,000 out of his working capital, together with the mode of transportation from river to rail, made it an up-hill business – so much so he was never fully able to recover from the effects of the fire.

    On November 8th, 1851, the firm of Greene & Stone, consisting of J. A. Greene and George C. Stone, opened the first bank in the county. It was located in a small room near where Swan’s jewelry store now stands, they using what would now be considered a very common fire-proof safe for holding their wealth.

    During the early part of the year 1852, our town was greatly exercised over the tragedy of Benjamin Nye and Jarred Irving. In the June term an effort was made to find a bill of indictment against McCoy for killing Nye. Joseph Crane, who was one of the grand jurors, told me that the grand jury was so well packed by challenging and otherwise that it was impossible to find a bill. The same jury found one against George Rynearson for the murder of Jarred Irving. He was put on trial. Rev. Henry Clay Dean defended him with one of his most eloquent and touching speeches and so successful was Dean in his defence that Rynearson was only sent to prison for one year and fined $100.

    Muscatine has been noted as a lumber point for more than forty years. In the year 1851 it sold 3,886,388 feet of lumber, 2,001,000 shingles, and 964,300 lath, all valued at $56,866.85.

    In January, 1852, we had a meeting of the stockholders of the “Iowa Western Railroad Company.” 1263 shares were represented. The number subscribed for was 2000˝, each share $50, in all $100,025. The officers elected were Stephen Whicher, president; W. G. Woodward, secretary, and A. McAulay, treasurer. This company never built a road.

    In the winter of 1852 and 1853, Kossuth came to this country to raise money for the cause of Hungary. A society was organized, mostly of Germans. Henry Funk was president and Christian Kegle secretary. I don’t think they ever gave much “material aid.”

    On March 6th, 1852, Muscatine had an insurance company, organized with Henry Moore president, Chester Weed secretary, and nine directors. Their capital stock was $20,000, which was mostly notes. The company was very fortunate and paid a large dividend on stock that was actually paid in, it being a marine company and doing little or no business off the river. It, like many other river interests, was crippled by the railroad and was closed up.

    *** continues on page 389 ***

    No change was greater than the manner of transporting money. We now send by eastern exchange or postal orders, then the money had to be carried by the owner. But very little of the paper money was of any or much value out of the State it was issued in; hence gold was the medium used for transportation. It was generally carried in belts around the waist of the owner, under the clothing. We recollect a case where a man from Pennsylvania died very suddenly with the cholera and was buried at once. His friends in Pennsylvania were notified of his death. One of them came and had the body exhumed and a belt containing some $1,500 taken from it. These belts were so much used that they were made an article of merchandise in the eastern cities.

    We have occupied this honorable position of president for a full term of ten years and have aimed to rescue as much Muscatine history from oblivion as our circumstances would permit. We trust that our successor will pursue the same line with more than equal success.

Mr. Walton’s address was followed by the report of Secretary Jackson; also, some resolutions offered by Dr. Robbins. The funny man announced to deliver an address proved to be R. B. Huff. An account of these and other proceedings is deferred till to-morrow owing to the lateness of the hour. The following original poem was read by E. U. Cook:


We’re only grown-up boys and girls,
Although our hair is gray,
When we look back some sixty years,
It seems but yesterday;
It seems that time has sped along
At such a rapid rate,
That youth and childhood intervene,
Twixt eight and eighty-eight.

And after that, it may be true,
The world seems somewhat cold,
A few short years and all is o’er,
We die before we’re old.
No man is old; not like the rocks,
The mountains and the hills,
Not like the mighty rivers,
Nor the little, rippling rills.

Not like the sun and moon and stars, up in the vaulted blue,
They don’t seem old, and yet they are, for we’ve been told tis true,
That they alone saw Moses, on that lonely mountain side,
When he lay down on Nebo, in solitude, and died.

They saw him cast that longing look out towards the promised land,
They saw the staff that Moses held clasped in his cold right hand;
They saw him as he breathed his last, and heard his dying moans,
They heard the wild beasts’ angry howls, and saw them gnaw his bones.

They saw the hosts of Egypt, as they sank beneath the wave,
And they heard Miriam sing about the power of God to save.
They saw that throng of horseman, as they struggled to be free;
And all those mighty chariots, at the bottom of the sea.

They saw that infant Savior, in that manger filled with hay,
And one of them moved forward and stood over where he lay.
They saw him grow to manhood, they saw him crucified,
And bid their shining faces, at the hour when Jesus died.

The saw the host of fishes that were caught in Galilee,
And they saw Peter, when he tried to walk upon the sea;
They saw the twelves Apostles, as they sang their daily hymns,
And Zacheus in a sycamore, perched up among the limbs.

And yet those stars do twinkle, and their beauty is displayed,
As when Old Adam courted Eve, beneath the fig tree’s shade.
The rills are rippling just the same, the trees sway to and fro,
The moon’s pale light beams just as soft, as it did long ago.

Invites the lovers, just the same, to stroll, amongst the trees,
At eventime, when love revives, with twilight’s gentle breeze.
The mountains have grown no less grand, the zephyr is as mild,
As when the world itself was young, and Adam was a child.

The pasture fields are just as green as they were long ago,
The golden fields of ripened grain sway gently to and fro,
And gladden our sad hearts to-day because it is a truth,
That they are just as lovely as when Boaz courted Ruth.

And I feel sure ‘twas God’s design, when He created man,
That joy in age should be as great as when life first began;
And we are in this grove to-day in search of some more joys,
The women are the grown-up girls, the men the grown-up boys.

If we will turn life’s pages back and read those pages o’er,
We’ll find a source of joy, perhaps, that we’ve not found before.
We’ll find it was but little things, that made those hours so sweet,
A pleasant smile, a kindly word, from those we used to meet.

Some little recognition, that affection would suggest,
Would satisfy the anxious heart and calm the throbbing breast.
Our lives are made of moments, and each moment, it is true,
Is short, and gives but little time for what we wish to do.

We must not wait to do great deeds, for moments quickly fly,
And each one should be loaded down with joy as it goes by.
No evil thought, nor angry word, no malice nor deceit,
Will e’re be found to take a part, where joy is most complete.

Now let us lay aside our cares, out here among these trees,
Each old boy take his girl’s right hand and give it one more squeeze.
Just smile as you smiled long ago, and tell how star-lit skies
To you seem dim, and dull and dead, compared with her own eyes.

Just sit a little closer than you’ve sat for many years,
And stroke the silver locks of gray, and dry those briny tears;
Just tell her how you love her, speak to her some words of praise,
And she’ll be happier by far than she has been for days.

And now, while we are in this grove, where trees sway to and fro,
Just steal one kiss, like that you stole some fifty years ago,
And see those wrinkles disappear, and smiles come in their stead,
Smiles like the ones you loved so well, the day when you were wed.

Just throw your arm behind her, then try to sneeze or cough,
And let your hand rest lightly on the shoulder farthest off.
Of course she will not notice it, for women never do.
And now, since you have got that far, I’ll leave the rest to you.

Yes, buy her some more popcorn, and a little red balloon,
And make the evening of her life as if ‘twere hardly noon.
Her eyes will shine like jewels that with diamonds have been lit,
If you will take an apple and just bite where she has bit.

Then talk about these women being very hard to please,
There’s nothing under heaven that is done with so much ease.
In fact, you thought when you were young that you were greatly blessed,
If you could show attention to the girl you liked the best.

Don’t you remember how you did, some fifty years ago,
When you went after Liza Jane, to take her to the show?
Don’t you remember how you primped, with all your might and main,
And greased your boots as well as hair, alone for Liza Jane?

You didn’t do that primping then for others, oh, no sir,
You did it all for Liza Jane, you only ………..
You didn’t care what ………. Might think, or do or say,
For Liza Jane was all the world to you on circus day.

You used to buy her peanuts and circus lemonade,
And kept one arm around her waist because she seemed afraid.
You used to say, now calm your fears, just lay them on the shelf,
No lion should eat Liza Jane, although you might yourself.

You took her to the side shows, and heard the organ’s tones,
You saw a skeleton alive, ‘twas naught but skin and bones.
You saw a man who swallowed swords, one ate a window pane,
And one ate fire, and then you said, “Let’s get out, Liza Jane.

You weren’t afraid of panthers, nor of lions when they roared,
But when it came to eating fire or swallowing a sword,
Or chewing up a window pane and doing it with ease,
You felt as if you’d like to be across the briny seas.

But when the show was over and the band had ceased to play,
And when the doleful organ’s tones had likewise died away,
And when the lion in his cage had lost himself in sleep,
And monkeys weary of their lives, were cuddled in a heap.

When all the elephants were fed, and tents were taken down,
And you and Liza, arm in arm, were strolling through the town.
Did life seem sweet, and did you feel that you were greatly blest?
And half rejoice when Cupid shot his arrow through your breast?

Did you not take her hand in yours and swing it to and fro,
That night when you went home with her, some fifty years ago?
Did you not call her by pet names, and give her hand a squeeze,
Just as these young folks do to-day out here amongst these trees?

Did you then talk to her of love, and tell her all your plans?
Did you look deep down in her eyes, and hold her soft, white hands?
Did you ask her to be your wife, in accents soft and low,
And seal the promise with a kiss before you turned to go?

If not, then you have not enjoyed one half life has to give,
The better half I think, perhaps the way that most men live,
The better half because it’s true, a woman’s constant care
Will help a man all through his life, at home and everywhere.

We’re only grown-up boys and girls, and now, since I reflect,
We lose one-half life has to give by being circumspect.
We ought to lay aside all fear and drive away the frown,
And that will seem the purest white, which now seems shaded brown.

Just bridle that unruly tongue, and teach it what to say,
Let not the daily cares of life drive all your joys away.
Dispel all falsehood and deceit and bottle up your pride,
And smile again on Liza Jane, she’s sitting by your side.

The very same old girl you took that day to see the show,
The one for whom you greased your boots, some fifty years ago.
The girl you called an angel, and you thought you told the truth –
You did, and she’s an angel now, the same as in her youth.

And ere that golden orb of day has sunk behind yon hill,
Just say to that old wife of yours, “My dear, I love you still,
The thought that we ere long must part has filled my heart with pain,
But you’ll be mine beyond the grave, now won’t you, Liza Jane!”

And if she hesitates at all, ‘twill be to dry the tears
That have been smothered out of sight, perhaps for many years.
But she will let you know somehow, as she did once before,
That she is yours, not only now, but will be evermore.

*** continued on page 390 ***

Of the Old Settlers’s Reunion

Our report of the old settlers’ reunion yesterday was necessarily incomplete, as we were obliged to close our forms before the exercises were concluded.

After President Walton had finished his address, Secretary Jackson read the following sad array of deaths of old settlers for the past year:

In view of the number of old settlers reported at our anniversary last year as having left us, it seemed hardly possible that the number would be exceeded in 1893, and yet there is a large excess over last year’s report, and it does seem that the days of our old settlers are rapidly coming to a close. The number reported last year was 38, this year 61, as follows:

Sept. 23, Henry Beckman, George Parks
Sept. 29, Mrs. E. S. Goldsberry
Sept. 30, John Maher, Mrs. Jane Trick
Oct. 14, Mrs. Thomas Hanna
Dec. 8, Mrs. S. F. Conaway
Dec. 29, Fred Sheely
Dec. 12, Dr. S. M. Cobb
Dec. 25, Mrs. Jane Henneker
1893 ---
Jan. 30, Michael Becker
Jan. 25, Mrs. Hannah Riggs
Jan. 21, Margaret A. Holmes
Jan. 9, Mrs. Catherine Powers
Jan. 22, Mrs. Polly Dale, Mrs. John Van Dam, Mrs. P. B. Spear
Feb. 17, Mrs. Mary Schermer, Jacob H. Barger, Edmund O’Callahan
Feb. 22, Michael Anson
Feb. 1, Benjamin Matthews
Feb. 28, Mrs. Margaretta Greenblade
Feb. 18, Judge S. C. Hastings
March 3, Joseph Bilkey
March 6, Mrs. Reuben Burtner
March 21, Dr. Albert Ady
March 8, Mrs. Mary M. Hoopes
March 1, Mrs. Margaret A. Knott
March 16, W. L. Lawrence, Dr. Goodno
April 11, Thomas Sharp
April 15, Mrs. Elizabeth Hubbard
April 10, Werner Wittich
April 2, Mrs. Sarah A. Crawford
April 8, Mrs. George Willmering
April 16, Mrs. Bernadiua Ter Stege
April 21, Mrs. Catherine Neidig
May 3, Dr. C. O. Waters
May 31, Dr. G. W. Fulliam
May 22, Mrs. S. N. Candee
June 7, H. D. Hendrix
June 8, H. H. Hine
June 21, Joseph Edgington
June 10, Charles Barnes
June 18, J. G. H. Little
June 18, William White, Mrs. Emma Church
June 18, Miss Willie W. Church
June 16, Mrs. J. A. Wilson
July 2, William S. Parvin
July 16, Mrs. Anna D. Kegel
July 22, George W. Messick
August 6, Mrs. Jerry Lequatte
August 24, Benjamin Hershey, Mrs. James H. Any
Sept. 2, Miss Martha Moore
Sept. 5, Peter Griffith, Nicholas Butcher, John H. Turner

The State of Iowa is now in its 47th year and three years more will bring us to our semi-centennial anniversary as a State, when those of us who live to see that time may expect to have a grand celebration.

Respectfully submitted.

Following this Report Dr. Robbins offered the following tribute to the departed ones:

    Sometimes in a great battle so many of some one regiment are prostrated, that those still remaining have to fall into some other hand and are lost as to their individual and perhaps much cherished connection with the former. But sometimes so many are carried safely through that they need only a few persons to fill anew their ranks. In a world upon which every year between 30 and 40 millions die, life anywhere may be considered a battle. That battle in Muscatine county, and among its old settlers especially, has this year been disastrous. And yet so many are the liabilities in the battle, so many are the dangers, so thick and fast are the arrows of death, that we are even in such a year of mourning as the past year to be the rather surprised that so many of us are still left, and that with good cheer and hopefulness we greet this the 37th of our annual gathering.

    Death is the great leveler, and I would suggest that as we read, or after there has been read, the long list of our brethren and sisters whose faces we are no more to see in this life we all rise up and with uncovered heads bow in honor and respect and kind remembrance of each and all. {This was done.} Doubtless there have gathered about each of these such honor and respect and even love as they have gone on before. Each one of us perhaps could select, out of these, names for which we may believe there should be special mention. But may it not be that in the sight of our Father in Heaven, the great searcher of hearts, this on that one, the last to be mentioned particularly, is in His sight of chief interest. There was a famous old prophet who went up in a chariot of fire but the only one I call to mind just now who was said to be carried to “Abraham’s bosom, i. e., to the most blessed place in Heaven,” carried by the angels, was a poor fellow whose flesh was sadly wanting in good looks and whose hunger was ready to welcomes the crumbs falling from the table of his more fortunate fellow citizen.

    At each burial of any of these there were most likely Christian services and at each that said which brought comfort or at least strength to bear to the nearer relatives and friends.

    As we read the list of names we can think of some blessed passage of God’s word specially appropriate. At one it might be Ps. 92-12, -- “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree. He shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age.” At another it might be Ps. 13:5 – “Why art thou cast down, oh my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope man in God.” At another it might be –

    Luke 24:50 *** “He was parted from men and ascended up into heaven,” or Matt. 25:13 – “Ye know neither the day nor the hour at which the son of man cometh.” At another, Numbers 23:10 – “Let me die the death of the righteous and let my last end be like his.” At another, John 14:27 – “Let not your heart be troubled neither let it be afraid,” or Revelation 11:12 – “They heard a great voice from heaven saying unto them, come up higher,” or again, Revelation 7-14 – “These are they which came out of great tribulation,” or still at another, Ezekiel 19:12 – “Her strong rods are broken and withered.”

    Some of these have died far away from their homes, perhaps buried by strangers. Some were poor in this world’s goods and “rich only in faith.” Some were suddenly taken and others after a long and painful sickness. Some of these names I read with great interest. Some were comparatively unknown to me. But each and all were from our ranks – and we would at least read their names and let them bring to us thankful and cheering, or admonitory and instructive remembrances. Let us arise as in the presence of our dead friends and looking to the God of all comfort for his presence and grace in all these bereaved homes or circle of relatives, let there then be on the part of any desiring, some word of special recognition, to the extent thought desirable by our worthy and venerable president.

After the reading of the touching poem by E. U. Cook, already published, R. B. Huff was introduced and made the principal speech of the occasion, which was interesting and witty throughout. The address was a humorous contrast between life both in the home and on the farm in pioneer days and in these days.

The next thing in order was the election of officers, when on motion of Frank Geiger the old officers were re-elected, viz:

    President – Josiah P. Walton,
    1st Vice-Pres. – John Barnard,
    2d Vice-Pres. – S. W. Stewart,
    Secretary – Peter Jackson,
    Treasurer – Mrs. P. Jackson.

Referring to poetic effusions on these occasions, Dr. Robbins said: I enjoy the poetry we hear at our old settlers’ meetings for these reasons: 1st, It is unlike the poetry of the Brownings because you can easily understand its meaning; 2d, because it sometimes brings back to us some of the times we used to have in college long ago. Of that poetry we call to mind this specimen:
“Pharo was a rascal,
Because he would not
Let the children of Israel
Go three days’ journey
Into the wilderness to
Celebrate the Pascal.”

Daniel Lake and S. W. Stewart were called out and each in turn made some appropriate remarks. W. S. Fultz was called on and recited a humorous poem, when the assembly adjourned, most of them visiting the rolling mills and the pickle works before dispersing for their homes.

The JOURNAL reporter made an effort to get a complete list of those present (not including children) with the year of their coming to Iowa, which is given below. It will probably be found imperfect, but if so omissions will be of those who came to the grounds in the afternoon rather than the forenoon.

(the following list begins on page 390 and finishes on page 393)

Aronheim, Mrs. Polly, 1844
Austin, Mrs. S. G. 1860
Adams, Emma 1864
Allbee, E. A. 1855
Amlong, Robert S. 1855
Anderson, Mrs. Mat. 1839
Brannan, Mrs. W. F. 1861
Bond, Mrs. Wm. 1850
Barnard, Mrs. M. J. 1851
Barnard, John and wife, 1854
Baird, R. B. 1859
Bowlby, Thomas 1854
Baxter, Mrs. M. J. 1854
Bumgardner, W. H. 1838
Barclay, Mrs. S. A. 1854
Bartlett, Imogene 1872
Bartlett, Mrs. Paul
Bridgman, Joseph 1837
Brown, Mrs. Mary D. 1845
Brockway, A. J. 1842
Blanchard, Mrs. Henry ----
Brinkley, Mrs. E. 1844
Couch, Mrs. Mary A. 1837
Couch, Ed L. 1843
Chaplin, C. and wife 1848
Cook, E. U. 1870
Cohn, Samuel 1855
Cheesbro, Mrs. Eliza 1847
Clark, Mrs. J. Ady 1851
Connor, Mrs. C. 1853
Carskaddan, Mrs. J. 1854
Cummins, Thomas and wife 1852
Cook, Mrs. Brewster 1848
Clendenen, J. W. and wife 1842
Chenoweth, J. and wife 1851
Brooks, Mrs. A. C. 1855
Donaldson, Mrs. Mary (of
Webster City, daughter of S. Sinnett.)
Denton, Ed. 1855
Dunn, Mrs. S. C. 1855
Detwiler, Mrs. B. A. 1855
Davidson, W. L. 1842
Dunsmore, Mrs. Mary 1843
Drake, Mrs. E. D. 1853
Earl, Mrs. Henry 1887
Evans, Mrs. M. 1853
Funk, Abram 1850
Fultz, W. S. 1850
Freeman, J. P. and wife 1840
Fulmer, John 1843
Freeman, J. C. 1859
Freeman, David 1843
Funk, Mrs. Henry 1839
Greiner, Mrs. J., daughter and son, 1854
Geiger, Frank 1848
Giesler, Charles 1844
Gilman, Mrs. P. V. 1848
Hitchcock, J. C. 1847
Hart, Mary A. 1848
Hart, Mrs. Sarah 1854
Hoopes, Lindley and wife 1854
Hoopes, J. A. 1854
Hoopes, J. E. and wife 1854
Heaton, F. M. 1840
Huff, R. B. 1851
Horton, Mrs. Col. 1842
Hoefflin, J. M. and wife 1864
Hoffmaster, Rudolph and wife 1849
Hoopes, W. H. 1854
Jackson, Peter 1838
Jackson, Dr. D. P. 1844
Jackson, Mrs. H. B. 1855
Johnson, ?. F. 1857
Jackson, G. B. 1851
Jackson, Mrs. Alex. 1841
Knox, Miss 1839
Kneese, W. K. 1844
Kleeper, Mrs. Anna 1859
Kleeper, Mrs. Lucy 1859
Kuhns, Mrs. R. G. 1872
Lamb, Anna 1876
Lake, Daniel 1851
Lee, J. B. 1853
Latig, H. N. 1848
Lewis, E. B. and wife 1851
Lord, Mrs. B. W. 1859
Lofland, H. and wife 1853
Musser, Mrs. Peter 1856
Mahin, John 1843
Marsh, D. S. and wife 1854
Madden, Henry and wife 1849
McGreer, Wash. and wife 1864
Matthews, Mrs. W. H. 1856
Musser, Mrs. R. 1855
Maylone, W. H. 1858
Mauck, Mrs. C. F. 1840
Moxley, John and wife 1845
Morrison, Joseph 1855
Montreal, Mrs. Margaret 1854
Martin, Mrs. J. A. 1854
Manly, Mrs. Wm. 1878
Magill, Mrs. Mary 1849
McIntyre, R. A. and wife 1856
Miller, Mrs. C. 1852
McCloud, Mrs. D. 1848
Neidig, Isaac 1850
Negley, Mrs. E. 1857
Oakes, Norman 1859
Othmer, A. and wife 1866
Patterson, Mrs. L. L. 1834
Peasley, C. L. and wife 1853
Parvin, Mrs. J. A. 1866
Pyeatt, J. A. and wife 1845
Pierson, Mrs. E. A. 1848
Richie, W. S. 1856
Robbins, Rev. A. B. 1843
Reynolds, Mrs. E. C. 1857
Richman, J. Scott 1839
Rice, J. W. 1855
Reed, Charles and wife 1857
Rowan, Mrs. J. A. 1847
Riemeke, G. A. 1855
Stockdale, John 1859
Stewart, S. W. 1838
Sinnett, Samuel and family 1839
Smalley, Shepherd 1839
Sweet, A. S. (Springfield, Mo.) 1839
Stevenson, J. E. and wife 1854
Smith, W. P. 1856
Stein, Philip and wife 1850
Schmaltz, C. F. 1857
Schields, Mrs. Wm. 1858
Schields, Mrs. George 1858
Townley, A. G. 1843
Tomney, John and wife 1859
Trask, Mrs. L. J. 1839
Turner, Mrs. S. A. 1848
Underwood, John 1861
VanHorne, G. W. and wife 1855
Whistler, Mrs. Christian 1852
Winn, Mrs. John 1847
Westfall, Mrs. Estella 1854
Walton, J. P. and wife 1837
Wood, C. P. 1853
Wise, Mrs. Kate 1859
Wintermute, B. K. 1853
Winn, A. M. 1853
Weed, Mrs. James 1846
Watson, Mrs. Thomas 1848
Waltz, J. G. wife and daughter 1855
Weed, Mrs. C. 1848
Wilson, James 1850
Washburn, C. D. 1850
West, Mrs. J. C. 1852
Watson, Mrs. R. 1863

It will be seen by the above list that Mrs. Laura L. Patterson is the oldest resident of the county. She is the daughter of Benj. Nye, who was the first settler, and who located at the mouth of Pine, in Sweetland township, in 1834.


Another PEOM by E.U. COOK:


Woman’s queer, indeed she is,
Wears her hair all in a friz,
Crimped and twisted all about,
Outside in and inside out.
On her forehead if it hangs,
She will call the thing her bangs,
On her neck, then she does call
That same thing her waterfall.
Bangs and waterfall must friz,
She is queer, indeed she is.

When a woman throws a stone,
Only one safe place is known,
Where a man may dare to sit,
That is the place she tries to hit.
And the gestures that she makes,
When she throws, good gracious sakes,
Draws her mouth and arms around,
Jumps three inches from the ground,
Then the stone begins to whiz,
Ain’t she queer? Indeed she is.

When these women raise a breeze,
Men sway back and forth like trees.

First the woman simply frets,
Then a little madder gets.
Presently she works her jaw,
Says she’s going home to ma.
If her husband then should smile,
She gets madder all the while,
Soon gets hot enough to siz,
Ain’t she queer? Indeed she is.

Watch a woman take a car
Where a crowd of people are.
Man gets up, gives her his seat,
Woman takes it looking sweet,
Puts her lap dog by her side,
Lets the man stand up and ride.
Then she gives the dog a hug,
Calls him her own darling pug.
Everybody in the car
Says, how queer some women are.

When a woman goes abroad,
No one knows how much is fraud
Paint and powder on her face
Pads of cotton, bites of lace,
Puffs and flounces, tucks and springs,
Silks and satins, dead birds’ wings.
Cheek, yes cheek, now comes a change,
That’s not false. Don’t it seem strange?
After all, is it not true?
Don’t we love ‘em? Yes, we do.

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