West Liberty History 1838-1938

Source: One Hundred Years of History
* Commemorating a Century of Progress in the West Liberty Community * WEST LIBERTY, IOWA
LOG CABIN HISTORY

Chapter XXII (Continued)

THE LOST CHILD

In 1850, William Henderson was living on the south edge of Cedar county in the southwest quarter of section 35-79-4, where Sam McLaughlin now resides. They had neighbors to the south of them, but to the north it was unbroken prairie. The family consisted of five children, the youngest, Lizzie, had just passed her second birthday anniversary. It was in September of that year and the country lay in all of its ripening beauty. The grass had grown tall and brown in the summer sun and autumn winds, and the foliage of the woods off to the south was beginning to show gold and crimson in the season's completion. The surrounding fields of corn were revealing their wealth of yellow grain where the ripening husks were parting, and the tassels and blades were becoming ragged with age. The family had been busy all the morning with their every day evocations and a condition of peace and security rested over the household. The father was away helping a neighbor with his threshing and after dinner the mother left the children and went to her father's, who lived a quarter of a mile away. Lizzie, a bright eyed, vivacious child, the pet of her brothers and sister, and the joy of her parents, was playing through the house and out of doors as suited her fancy. She had found an old shoe and a moccasin and playfully clad her feet in them. The other children heard her artless prattle as she was amusing herself and paid but little attention to her while busy with their own employment. But about three o'clock they realized that Lizzie's voice was no longer to be heard, nor was she anywhere to be seen; so one of them went to the door and called but there was no response. Then they called more loudly, "Lizzie, where are you?" Still Lizzie did not answer. They then searched through the house, thinking sister might have fallen asleep in some corner, but the search was fruitless. They then searched around the house and outbuildings, but no sign of the child was discovered. Then, thoroughly frightened, one of their number went to their grandfather's to apprise their mother that baby was lost. The mother, filled with anxiety, hurried home, and she searched and called but all in vain. It was now late in the afternoon and one of the boys was sent for their father, for alarm had taken the place of anxiety. While waiting his coming, the others of the family made a more systematic search of the premises and then scattered out over the prairie, calling the childs name and listening for a reply. They searched along the bare ground and at the edge of the cornfields for tracks or some sign of her having passed that way. The hog lot, which was east of the house and a few rods away, was scanned with fearful dread, lest she wandered that way and the hogs had attacked and devoured her. The slough well, which was only protected by a low rail pen, was carefully examined, fearing possibly she had climbed up the rails and fallen therein. But all of this search revealed nothing of the lost baby. Not a track could be found, or a remnant of her clothing to show which way she had gone. Had she wandered out on the prairie and been gored and trampled to death by the herds of half-wild cattle that roamed there? Had she reached the creek that flowed dark and deep a half a mile away and there found a watery grave? These were possibilities presented to the minds of her parents.

Night was coming and Lizzie was lost. These were the only certainties. Then a general alarm was given. The boys were sent to the nearest neighbors for help in the search, and they in turn sent word to those farther away, till the people for miles around were notified, and they soon began to arrive, singly and in squads. Meanwhile it was growing dark and there came no relief from the agonizing suspense. You parents with bright little children around your knees, who make music in your homes and lighten the cares of your lives with their artless prattle and trusting ways, picture to yourselves the feelings of that father and mother that night. Food was prepared for the family by kind neighbors, but they could not eat; they could not rest. The evening chores went undone. There was no thought for anything but Lizzie, and she out in the night and all alone. Where was she ? As it grew dark, lights could be seen in every direction, as the searchers roamed the fields and prairie. Back and forth, back and forth, through the corn fields and across the prairie they passed, long lines of earnest men and boys, on foot and on horseback, scrutinizing every patch of weeds, and every thicket, and listening intently for any sound. The banks of the creek were examined for foot prints but all was in vain. Not a sign, not a sound, was there of themissing baby.

Late in the evening, Freeman Alger was passing, on his way from his home to that of the Hendersons, his way taking him across a piece of open prairie, and on passing a bare spot of ground, saw by the light of his lantern some depressions in the soft soil. A careful examination of these showed that they had been made by someone wearing a moccasin on one foot and a shoe on the other. These signs he reported to the other searchers, and an investigation established the fact that the little girls feet had been thus clad when she was last seen. There, then, was the first tangible evidence of the child; and from it, it seemed reasonably certain that she had not wandered away to the north onto the open prairie and toward the creek, but probably had seen her mother when she started for the neighbor's and attempted to follow her, till she had become bewildered and then wandered aimlessly on. Then the searchers, encouraged, by this discovery, pursued more zealously their quest. There was open prairie to the north of where the tracks were found and a piece of new breaking covered with weeds to the south. Over these tracts they ranged back and forth in the darkness, but found nothing more and at length decided to give over the search till morning. Meanwhile they built a line of fires of rails taken from the nearest fence across the strip of prairie to prevent danger of an attack on the child by wolves during the hours of darkness. Around these fires the bivouacked for the night.

It was a weird scene there on the prairie that night. The light of the fires was reflected from the clouds, and the shadows of the men and horses reached out in uncouth proportions across the prairie. Nor was it a silent company that waited there for the coming of the dawn. Made up as it was mostly of young men and boys they must needs find means to enliven the weary hours of waiting, for to sleep was not thought of. It is needless to say that William Henderson did not participate in their hilarity, but, riding out into the darkness, he would try to pierce the gloom in his search for his daughter, and listen with tense senses for some sound from her. Once or twice he thought he heard her wailing cry, but the feeble sound was lost in the general noises, and he could not locate it. As revealed by the events of the following day, there was but little doubt that his conjectures were right and that he did hear her voice. But if the feeling of those out there on the prairie that night was intense, what may be said of those at the house, who waited and watched in inaction and suspense through those weary hours of darkness. At times some neighbors would ride out from the line and report to the watchers at the house. But the report was always the same, " Nothing discovered." At last the east began to redden and as the light increased, the searchers prepared to resume their quest, this time to the south, where they had some reason to believe the child would be found. They formed a close line across the prairie, eighty rods in length, and the command was given to advance. There was no shouting now or boisterous laughter or loud talking, but each member of the line moved silently and steadily to the south, scanning each bunch of rank grass and patch of weeds, hoping yet dreading what there might be revealed, and listening for any sound that might give a clue to what they sought. Just as the sun was gilding the hill tops they reached the edge of the breaking that was overgrown with weeds, and had proceeded but a short distance over it, when William Richardson spied the form of the child among the weeds. Clark Lewis was the first to reach her. She was sitting on the ground among the weeds, her hair wet with dew and her cheeks stained with tears, but she was alive and unharmed. Lewis picked her up and placed her in her father's arms, who, mute with intense thanksgiving, turned toward home with his precious burden. Then there went up such a shout as never before or since has echoed across the prairie. Lizzie was borne swiftly to the waiting mother's arms, and nestled there in sweet security, while her mother was loathe to let her go from her. It was a long time before Lizzie forgot the terrors of that night, and many times awoke from her sleep with a start and cry of terror. It was in the southeast quarter of section 2-78-4, southwest of the Friends cemetery where she was found. This occurrence is remembered by the participants in the search as the most stirring event in that neighborhood.

The year 1842 saw the arrival of the Algers, Freemans and Skillmans from Ohio. Skillman bought land in the southwest quarter of section 5-78-3 and built a log house on the north part of the same, where they resided, while Freeman purchased the real estate of S. A. Bagley on which was situated the West Liberty post office and tavern. With them came Daniel Crane, another Ohio boy. He worked for and made his home with Freeman Alger for three years. There was also at Algers a young girl, Narcissa Hill by name, who made her home there and attended school in the nearby school house. At the end of three years, Miss Hill returned to her parental home three miles north of Iowa City. Daniel soon found he needed a change of scene, so he left Algers and sought employment north of the City in the neighborhood of the Hills. The sequel to all this was that in December, 1848, Daniel Crane and Narcissa Hill were united in marriage at the home of the brides parents. Meantime Crane had become possessed of a lot of ten acres in the southeast quarter of section 2-78-4 on which he erected a log house and there they began housekeeping. There they spent three years, when they purchased land out on the prairie in the northeast quarter of section of 16-78-4 and moved there, where they spent many years of their lives. Crane was of an investigating, inquiring turn of mind, much given to inventive thought. He was the inventor of a farm gate that for convenience and simplicity of construction has few equals. He also constructed and patented a double corn plow which he considered an acme of perfection and with which he himself successfully cultivated annually his corn crop till well on to his eightieth year of age. The lot on which they first settled was a part of the town of West Liberty, which was platted in 1839, and included part of the southwest quarter of section 1-78-4 and a part of the southeast quarter of section 2-78-4.

In 1842, Samuel Hunter and his family came from Pennsylvania and took up their abode in a cabin which stood on the present ground of the Union District Agricultural Society. They afterward settled on the southeast quarter of section 23-78-4. There was also a log house on the northeast quarter of the same section, occupied for a time by Samuel Lafferty and later by James Hunter. The year 1843 seems to have been an uneventful one to the community and no new settlers were reported for that year, but in 1844 James Graham came and built a log house on the southwest quarter of section 27-78-4, near the present residence of E. E. Wolf. These later houses stood on the open prairie some distance from any protecting timber and showed by their location that the people were becoming used to the vastness of the prairies. But one can conceive of the loneliness to the occupants of these isolated prairie homes and the dreariness at times of their surroundings; and how insignificant seemed their puny improvements in contrast to the wide expanse of hill and vale on every side.

This Graham was a great lover of the chase, but withal of a tender heart toward all God's creatures. One winter---it is still remembered by the pioneers for its severe cold and deep snows---Graham conceived the idea of saving a remnant of the many herd of deer that were in danger of perishing by starvation. So he erected a log stable, or rather a corral, and on its completion proceeded to fill it with deer. In this undertaking he was assisted by the neighbor boys. Mounting their horses they would ride out on the prairie till a herd of deer were sighted, then quietly approach them under such cover as the country afforded, when they would break cover and the race began. Away they went, over hills and across valleys, through drifts and patches of brush, the deer bounding away in their fright, their antlers laid back on their shoulders and their tails carried plume-like high over their backs, the horsemen urging on their foaming steeds with whip and spur. But the race was an unequal one, for the deer, weak from want and sinking deep in the crusted snow at every bound, were soon overtaken, when, with a swish, the lasso oncoiled its lengthy loop after loop till it dropped over the horns or neck of its victim. Then began a mad struggle, for an infuriated buck is no means an agonist to try conclusions with; but like all created things, the deer had to succumb to the superior intelligence of man, and they were led and dragged to what to them was a prison pen. This operation was repeated till Graham had twenty-eight of them in his corral, but they did not take kindly to his well meant kindness. They fretted for the freedom of the hills and would eat but little or nothing at all. After a number had died of nostalgia and hunger, Graham opened the corral door and let the rest of them go free.

Charles Buckman came to the country in 1844 and resided for a time on a small lot of six acres which he purchased of Samuel Hendrickson in the northwest quarter of section 6-78-3. That same year James Traier arrived and bought the improvements of John Barrack, which were on the northeast quarter of section 2-78-4, now owned by G. W. McFadden. John Marsh, a son-in-law of Traier, came at the same time and settled on the northeast quarter of section 15-78-4, where he lived in a log cabin for some time. This house was later utilized as a school house, the first one used for that purpose in that neighborhood. In 1845, David Frank arrived in that settlement and after dwelling for a time in the house erected by Huliett in 1837, and later occupied by Frances Foot and still later by DeMoss, he got possession of the farm formerly owned by John Purrington and built a new log house on the east side of the creek, where he lived for many years. The place is still well known as the Frank place. John Wright, coming from Ohio that year, selected land in the southeast corner of township 79-4. He then bought the log house of Cornelius Lancaster and moved it on the line between Muscatine and Cedar counties, where the east Springdale road intersects that line.

With the arrival of this family a new element entered into the community, as they were of the Society of Friends, and brought with them the tenets and customs of that peaceful sect, and they will long be remembered by their descendants and friends for their worthiness and the gentleness and peacefulness of their demeanor. This was a nucleus that later attracted others of a like belief, till they had a strong society of that faith with a house of worship at the cemetery in the northwest quarter of section 1-78-4. In the same year, Jacob Adams and his son-in-law, Preston Brown, arrived. Adams bought the farms of Enoch Lewis in the southwest quarter of section 2-78-4 and of Henderson in the northwest quarter of section 11-78-4, Brown occupying the Henderson homestead and Adams that of Lewis. After John Wright moved to his farm, John Markley occupied the vacant cabin. In 1846, Clark lewis, having married, proceeded to improve his farm which consisted of a part of the northeast quarter of section 3-78-4. He bought a log cabin which stood on the Nyce tract and moved it to the farm, using it for a dwelling. This was the house, the contemplation of the original site of which, led to the writing of this history. After Lewis had erected a neat little frame cottage, the cabin was relegated to more ignominious uses, and when the writer was a boy he often played at hide-and-seek in it with his companions and hunted eggs in the old building, but was not aware, until collecting material for this narrative, that it was the building that had inspired the undertaking. The frame house that Lewis built in 1847 still stands on the site where erected and is now occupied by the writer and his family.

From this time on there were but few new log houses erected. Some were torn down and moved to other places and some were occupied by other people than the original builders. In 1847 John LaRue took the place of Sam Proctor, where he remained to the time of his death. It is presumable that about this time Dr. Henry displaced William Proctor, as Dr. Henry was living there sometime previous to 1852. In 1848, Paxton Wright came to Iowa, and so well pleased was he, that he selected land and returned to Ohio for his family. But before the move could be consummated he sickened and died. The next season the widow and her family executed the plans that had been made and came to the Wapsie valley. They took up their abode in the cabin occupied by John Markley while they built on their farm in Cedar county. Markley afterward built a cabin in the southeast corner of the southwest quarter of section 25-79-4, on what is now the Ben Fenstermaker farm, where he lived until 1852, when he joined the company of goldseekers in California. Quite a large company was made up in the Wapsie region and went to California that season, going overland by ox teams. That section of land on which Markley built was rather an anomalous spot to be found in a prairie country, as it was mostly covered with thick growth of elm and other forest trees and brush and became known far and near as Elm Grove. To one with a hunter's instinct it was an ideal spot, as it was on the watershed of the two branches of the east Wapsie, as well as the high ground dividing the Cedar and Iowa rivers and was a great resort for deer and wolves, as well as turkeys, and in the early days for elk and lynx.

Long before this time Bradford Hinyon had grown tired of his place, or saw something more atractive elsewhere, for we find that in 1840, George W. Van Horn was living there, and continued to do so until 1848, when Neheniah Chase came upon the scene. He had brought his family from Ohio the year previously and settled near Pine Mills in township 77-1 E, but upon visiting this settlement was so impressed with its future possibilities that he soon effected the exchange with Van Horn, and so the Chase family became ever afterward a conspicuous part of the community. An incident occurred in the Chase house one evening that may be of interest to some at the present time as showing what was possible to occur even at that late date in the community's history. They were living in a log house and one evening they had a fire in the fireplace, around which the children were gathered for warmth. There was a broad stone hearth in front of the fire as was the custom, and the floor of the house did not fit as closely to this hearthstone as a joiner of the present day would consider a workmanlike job. In fact there were numerous holes and crevices in the floor through which the rats sometimes came into the room. Under the floor the rats had excavated numerous tunnels in which they held high carnival at night. As the children were sitting around the hearth enjoying the warmth, and were chatting and laughing as a group of lively, good-natured children will, they were startled by a peculiar buzzing sound, which, when once heard, is never mistaken for any other sound though many others may be mistaken for it; and looking down they saw a huge rattlesnake slowly emerging from a hole in the floor in the midst of them and crawling out of the hearthstone, where it proceeded to make itself comfortable, meantime sounding its rattles in warning and defiance. It is needless to say there was a sudden stampede from that comfortable fireplace and his snakeship was speedily dispatched. It had crawled under the house through one of the rat holes and tempted by the genial warmth, had come up into the room.

While the school facilities of those early days were meager and crude in the extreme, the thirst for knowledge in the rising generations was of the strenuous order. One of our veterans, in talking of the matter, remarked that his only opportunity to attend school was on stormy days in winter, as he was of an age to help his father in his work, yet with these meager opportunities he laid the foundation for a broad and liberal education in life's great university. Another, a woman, born in Muscatine county, and one who has seen the wonderful changes that sixty-one years has wrought, gave me her experience in obtaining such an education as the schools of those days afforded. Her home was nearly three miles from the school, and all the way was through thick woods and brush and swampy prairie, with no road or path save an Indian trail a part of the way. Over this long way she and her sister walked back and forth through the hot summer days, crossing the creek on a log. She was of a timid nature, and often became frightened at things real or fancied in that daily walk to and from the school. One time it was a wolf that crossed their path between her and her companion. Once it was a wild hog that frightened them and drove them to seek refuge in a deserted cabin. Another day it was the deep croaking of a bull frog in a nearby marsh, which she fancied was some wild savage monster.

In 1849, Elias Troutman came to the neighborhood. He settled in the cabin that had been occupied by Chas. Buckman. This cabin was the Cox house, which had stood on the north side of the creek, on the Arvine Quier place. Troutman was a blacksmith and had a shop in the road just north of his house, where he did the custom work for the neighborhood. Sometime later this cabin was occupied by the family of M. B. Watters. It probably, originally was one of the Mormon houses, erected in 1836. I speak of these cabins---the John Wright house and the Buckman house---more particularly than of many others, as they seemingly had more diverse occupants than had others. On the west fork of the creek, John Whistler appeared in 1849 and located on the southwest quarter of the northwest quarter of section 37-39-4 and Eliza Whistler, a widow became a resident of the northeast quarter of section 33-79-4.

In the autumn of 1850, Hanson Gregg and W. W. Watters were arrivals in that same neighborhood and put up for the winter in cabins on the southwest quarter of the section 28-79-4. One of these was the Atwood house, which had been occupied by the family of A. G. Smith, but who had built a house a short distance to the south. Hanson Gregg decided to remain there, and occupied the premises to the time of his death, while Dr. Watters went farther east and settled near the present site of Atalissa.

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