Sleeping Accommodations | Cooking | Women's Work | Family Worship | Guarding Against Indians | Thieving and Lynch Law | Difficulties | Trade | Money | Milling | Agricultural Implements | Hog Killing | Wild Hogs | Native Animals | Wolf Hunts | Snakes | Bee hunting | Prairie Fires | Chills and Fever or the Shakes | Education | The Old McGuffey Reader | Spelling Schools | Singing School | Letter Writing in Early Days | The Bright side of Pioneer Life | |
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Most of the early settlers of Indiana came from older states, as Pennsylvania, Kentucky and Virginia,
where their prospects for even a competency were very poor. They found those states good—to
emigrate from. Their entire stock of furniture, implements and family necessities were easily
stored in one wagon, and sometimes a cart was their only vehicle. |
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After arriving and selecting a suitable location, the next thing to do was to build a log cabin, a
description of which may be interesting to many of our younger readers, as in some section
these old-time structures are no more to be seen. Trees of uniform size were chosen and cut
into logs of the desired length, generally 12 to 15 feet, and hauled to the spot selected for
the future dwelling. On an appointed day the few neighbors who were available would assemble
and have a “house-raising.” Each end of every log was saddled and notched so that they would
lie as close down as possible: the next day the proprietor would proceed to “chink and daub”
the cabin, to keep out the rain, wind and cold. The house had to be re-daubed every fall, as
the rains of the intervening time would wash out a great part of the mortar. The usual height
of the house was seven or eight feet. The gables were formed by shortening the logs gradually
at each end of the building near the top. The roof was made by laying very straight small logs
or stout poles suitable distances apart, generally about two and a half feet, fro m gable to
gable, and on these poles were laid the “clapboards” after the manner of shingling, showing
about two and a half feet to the weather. These clapboards were fastened to their place by
“weight poles,” corresponding in place with the joists just described, and these again were
held in their place by “runs” or “knees,” which were chunks of wood about 18 or 20 inches long
fitted between them near the ends. Clapboards were made from the nicest oaks in the vicinity,
by chopping or sawing them into four-foot blocks and riving these with a frow, which was a
simple blade fixed at right angles to its handle. This was driven into the blocks of wood by
a mallet. As the frow was wrenched down through the wood, the latter was turned alternately
over from side to side, one end being held by a forked piece of timber. The chimney to the Western pioneer’s cabin was made by leaving in the original building a large open place in one wall, or by cutting one after the structure was up, and by building on the outside from the ground up, a stone column, or a column of sticks and mud, the sticks being laid up cob-house fashion. The fire-place thus made was often large enough to receive fire-wood six to eight feet long. Sometimes this wood, especially the “back-log,” would be nearly as large as a saw-log. The more rapidly the pioneer could burn up the wood in his vicinity the sooner he had his little farm cleared and ready fro cultivation. For a window, a piece about two feet long was cut out of one of the wall logs, and the holes closed sometimes by glass, but generally with greased paper. Even greased deer-hide was sometimes used. A doorway was cut through one of the walls if a saw was to be had; otherwise the door would be left by shortened logs in the original building. The door was made by pining clapboards to two or three wood bars, and was hung upon wooden hinges. A wooden latch, with catch, then finished the door, and the latch was raised by any one on the outside by pulling a leather string. For security at night this latch-string was drawn in; but for friends and neighbors, and even strangers, the “latch-string was always hanging out,” as a welcome. In the interior, over the fire-place would be a shelf, called “the mantel,” on which stood the candlesticks or lamp, some cooking and table ware, possible an old clock, and other articles; in the fireplace would be the crane, sometimes of iron, sometimes of wood; on it the pots were hung for cooking; over the door, in forked cleats, hung the ever trustful rifle and power-horn; in one corner stood the larger bed for the “old folks,” and under it the trundle-bed for the children; in another stood the old-fashioned spinning-wheel, with a smaller one by its side; in another the heavy table, the only table, of course, there was in the house; in the remaining corner was a rude cupboard holding the table-ware, which consisted of a few cups and saucers and blue-edged plates, standing singly on their edges against the back, to make the display of table furniture more conspicuous; while around the room were scattered a few splint-bottomed of Windsor chairs and two or three stools. These simple cabins were inhabited by a kind and true-hearted people. They were strangers to mock modesty, and the traveler, seeking lodgings for the night, or desirous of spending a few days in the community, if willing to accept the rude offering, was always welcome, although how they were disposed of at night the reader might not easily imagine; for, as described, a single room was made to answer for kitchen, dinning-room, sitting-room, bed-room and parlor, and many families consisted of six or eight members. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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The bed was very often made by fixing a post in the floor about six feet from one wall and four
feet from the adjoining wall, and fastening a stick to this post about two feet above the floor,
on each of two sides, so that the other end of each of the two sticks could be fastened in the
opposite wall; clapboards were laid across these, and thus the bed was made complete. Guests
were given this bed, while the family disposed of themselves in another corner of the room, or
in the “loft.” When several guest were on hand at once, they were sometimes kept over night in
the following manner: when bed-time came the men were requested to step out of doors while the
women spread out a board bed upon the mid-floor, and put themselves to bed in the center; the
signal was given and the men came in and each husband took his place in bed next to his own
wife, and the single men outside beyond them again. They were generally so crowded that they
had to lie “spoon” fashion, and when any one wished to turn over he would say “Spoon,” and the
whole company of sleepers would turn over at once. This was the only way they could all keep in
bed. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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To witness the various processes of cooking in those days would alike surprise and amuse those
who have grown up since cooking stoves and ranges came into use. Kettles were hung over the large
fire, suspended with pot-hooks, iron or wooden, on the crane, or on poles, one end of which would
rest upon a chair. The long-handled frying-pan was used for cooking meat. It was either held over
the blaze by hand or set down upon cols drawn out upon the hearth. This pan was also used for
baking pan-cakes, also called “Flap-jacks,” “batter-cakes,” etc. A better article for this, however,
was the cast-iron spider or Dutch skillet. The best thing for baking bread those days, and possibly
even yet in these latter days, was the flat-bottom bake kettle, of greater depth, with closely
fitting cast-iron cover, and commonly known as the “Dutch-oven.” With coals over and under it, bread
and biscuit would quickly and nicely bake. Turkey and spare-ribs were sometimes roasted before the
fire, suspended by a string, a dish being placed underneath to catch the droppings. | Hominy and samp were very much used. The hominy, however, was generally hulled corn—boiled corn from which the hull, or bran, had been taken by hot lye; hence sometimes called “lye hominy.” True hominy and samp were made of pounded corn. A popular method of making this, as well as real meal for bread, was to cut out or burn a large hole in the top of a huge stump, in the shape of a mortar, and pounding the corn in this by a maul or beetle suspended on the end of a swing-pole, like a well-sweep. This and the well-sweep consisted of a pole 20 to 30 feet long fixed in an upright fork so that it could be worked “teeter” fashion. It was a rapid and simple way of drawing water. When the samp was sufficiently pounded it was taken out, the bran floated off, and the delicious grain boiled like rice. The chief articles of diet in early day were corn bread, hominy or samp, venison, pork, honey, beans, pumpkin (dried pumpkin for more than half the year), turkey, prairie chicken, squirrel and some other game, with a few additional vegetables a portion to the year. Wheat bread, tea, coffee and fruit were luxuries not to be indulged in except on special occasions, as when visitors were present. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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Besides cooking in the manner described, the women had many other arduous duties to perform, one of
the chief of which was spinning. The “big wheel” was used for spinning yarn and the “little wheel” for
spinning flax. These stringed instruments furnished the principal music of the family, and were operated
by our mothers and grandmothers with great skill, attained without pecuniary expense and with far less
practice than is necessary for the girls of out period to acquire a skillful use of their costly and
elegant instruments. But those wheels, indispensable a few years ago, are all now superseded by the mighty
factories which overspread the country, furnishing cloth of all kinds at an expense ten times less than
would be incurred now by the old system. | The loom was not less necessary than the wheel, though they were needed in so great numbers; not every house had a loom, one loom had a capacity for the needs of several families. Settlers, having succeeded in spit of the wolves in raising sheep, commenced the manufacture of woolen cloth: wool was carded and made into rolls by hand-cards, and the rolls were spun on the “big wheel.” We still occasionally find in the houses of old settlers a wheel of this kind, sometimes used for spinning and twisting stocking yarn. They are turned with the hand, and with such velocity that it will run itself while the nimble worker, by her backward step, draws out and twists her thread nearly the whole length of the cabin. A common article woven on the loom was linsey, or linsey-woolsey, the chain being lined and the filling woolen. This cloth was used for dresses for women and girls. Nearly all the clothes worn by the men were also home-made; rarely was a farmer or his son seen in a coat made of any other. If, occasionally, a young man appeared in a suit of “boughten” clothes, he was suspected of having gotten it for a particular occasion, which occurs in the life of nearly every young man. The dress, habits, etc., of a people throw so much light upon their conditions and limitations that in order better to show the circumstances surrounding the people of the state, we will give a short exposition of the manner of life of our Indiana people at different epochs. The Indians themselves are credited by Charlevoix with being “very laborious,’—raising poultry, spinning the wool of the buffalo, and manufacturing garments thereform. These must have been, however, more than usually favorable representatives of their race. “The working and voyaging dress of the French masses” says Reynolds, “was simple and primitive. The French were like the lilies of the valley [the Old Ranger was not always exact in his quotations],—they neither spun nor wove any of their clothing, but purchased it from the merchants. The whit blanket coat, known as the capot, was the universal and eternal coat for the winter with the masses. A cape was made of it that could be raised over the head in cold weather. “In the house, and in good weather, it hung behind, a cape to the blanket coat. The reason that I know these coats so well is that I have worn many in m youth, and a working man never wore a better garment. Dressed deer-skins and blue cloth were worn commonly in the winter for pantaloons. The blue handkerchief and the deer-skin moccasins covered the head and feet generally of the French Creoles. In 1800 scarcely a man thought himself clothed unless he had a belt tied round his blanket coat, and on one side was hung the dressed skin of a pole-cat filled with tobacco, pipe, flint and steel. On the other side was fastened, under the belt, the butcher knife. A Creole in this dress felt like Tom O’Shanter filled with usquebaugh; he could face the devil. Checked calico shirts were then common, but in winter flannel was frequently worn. In the summer the laboring men and the voyagers often took their shirts off in hard work and hot weather, and turned out the naked back to the air and sun. “Among the Americans,” he adds, “home-made wool hats were the common wear. Fur hats were not common, and scarcely a boot was seen. The covering of the feet in winter was chiefly moccasins made of deer-skins and shoe-packs of tanned leather. Some wore shoes, but not common in very early times. In the summer the greater portion of the young people, male and female, and many of the old, went barefoot. The substantial and universal outside wear was the blue linsey hunting shirt. This is an excellent garment, and I have never felt so happy and healthy since I laid it off. It is made of wide sleeves, open before, with ample size so as to envelop the body almost twice around. Sometimes it had a large cape, which answers well to save the shoulders from the rain. A belt is mostly used to keep the garment close around the person, and, nevertheless, there is nothing tight about it to hamper the body. It is often fringed, and at times the fringe is composed of red, and other gay colors. The belt, frequently, is sewed to the hunting shirt. The vest was mostly made of striped linsey. The colors were made often with alum, copperas and madder, boiled with the bark of trees, in such a manner and proportions as the old ladies prescribed. The pantaloons of the masses were generally made of deer-skin and linsey. Coarse blue cloth was sometimes made into pantaloons. “Linsey, neat and fine, manufactured at home, composed generally the outside garments of the females as well as the males. The ladies had linsey colored and woven to suit their fancy. A bonnet, composed of calico, or some gay good, was worn on the head when they were in the open air. Jewelry on the pioneer ladies was uncommon; a gold ring was an ornament not often seen.” In 1820 a change of dress began to take place, and before 1830, according to Ford, most of the pioneer costume had disappeared. “The blue linsey hunting-shirt, with red or white fringe, had given place to the cloth coat. [Jeans would be more like the fact.] The raccoon cap, with the tail of the animal dangling down behind, had been thrown aside for hats of wool or fur. Boots and shoes had supplied the deer-skin moccasins; and the leather breeches, strapped tight around the ankle, had disappeared before unmentionables of a more modern material. The female sex had made still greater progress in dress. The old sort of cotton or woolen frocks, spun, woven and made with their own fair hands, and striped and cross-barred with blue dye and Turkey red, had given place to gowns of silk and calico. The feet, before in a state of nudity, now charmed in shoes of calf-skin of slippers of kid; and the head, formerly unbonneted, but covered with a cotton handkerchief, now displayed the charms of the female face under many forms of bonnets of straw, silk and leghorn. The young ladies, instead of walking a mile or two to church on Sunday, carrying their shoes and stockings in their hands until within a hundred yards of the place of worship, as formerly, now cane forth arrayed complete in all the pride of dress, mounted on fine horses and attended by their male admirers.” The last half century has doubtless witnessed change quite as great as those set forth by our Illinois historian. The chronicler of to-day, looking back to the golden days of 1830 to 1840, and comparing them with the present, must be struck with the tendency of an almost monotonous uniformity in dress and manners that comes from the easy inter-communication afforded by steamer, railway, telegraph and newspaper. Home manufacturers have been driven from the household by the lower-priced fabrics of distant mills. The Kentucky jeans, and the copperas-colored clothing of home manufacture, so familiar a few years ago, have given place to the cassimeres and cloths of note factories. The ready-made clothing stores, like a touch of nature, made the whole world kin and may drape the charcoal man in a dress-coat and a stove-pipe hat. The prints and silk of England and France give a variety of choices and an assortment of colors and shades such as the pioneer women could hardly have dreamed of. Godey and Demorset and Harper’s Bazar are found in our modern farm-houses, and the latest fashions of Paris are not uncommon. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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The Methodists were generally first on the ground in pioneer settlements, and at that early
day they seemed more demonstrative in their devotions than at the present time. In those days, too, pulpit
oratory was generally more eloquent and effective, while the grammatical dress and other “worldly”
accomplishments were not so assiduously cultivated as a present. But in the manner of conducting public
worship there has probably not been so much change as in that of family worship, or “family prayer,” as
it was often called. | Once or twice a day, in the morning just before breakfast, or in the evening just before retiring to rest, the head of the family would call those around him to order, read a chapter in the Bible, announce the hymn and tune by commencing to sing it, when all would join; then he would deliver a most fervent prayer. If a pious guest was present he would be called on to take the lead in all the exercises of the evening; and if in those hays a person who prayed in the family or in public did not pray as if it were his very last on earth, his piety was thought to be defective. The familiar tunes of that day are remembered by the surviving old settlers as being more spiritual and inspiring than those of the present day. Members of other orthodox denominations also had their family prayers in which, however, the phraseology of the prayer was somewhat different and the voice not so loud as characterized the real Methodists, United Brethren, etc. The traveler always found a welcome at the pioneer’s cabin. It was never full. Although there might be already a guest for every puncheon. There was still “room for one more,” and a wider circle would be made for the new-comer at the log fire. If the stranger was in search of land, he was doubly welcome, and his host would volunteer to show him all the “first-rate claims in this neck of the woods,” going with him for days, showing the corners and advantages of every “Congress tract” within a dozen miles of his own cabin. To his neighbors the pioneer was equally liberal. If a deer was killed, the choicest bits were sent to his nearest neighbor, a half-dozen miles away, perhaps. When a “shoat” was butchered, the same custom prevailed. If a new comer came in too late for “cropping,” the neighbors would supply his table with just the same luxuries they themselves enjoyed, and in as liberal quantity, until a crop could be raised. When a new-comer had located his claim, the neighbor for miles around would assemble at the site of the new-comer’s proposed cabin and aid him in “gittin’” it up. One party with axes would cut down the trees and hew the logs; another with teams would haul the logs to the ground; another party would “raise” the cabin; while several of the old men would “rive the clapboards” for the roof. By night the little forest domicile would be up and ready for a “house-warming,” which was the dedicatory occupation of the house, when music and dancing and festivity would be enjoyed at full height. The next day the new-comer would be as well situated as his neighbors. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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The fashion of carrying fire-arms was made necessary by the presence of roving bands of Indians,
most of whom were ostensibly friendly, but like Indians in all times, treacherous and unreliable. An Indian war
was at any time probable, and all the old settlers still retain vivid recollections of Indian massacres, murder,
plunder, and frightful rumors of intended raids. While target practice was much indulged in as an amusement, it
was also necessary at times to carry their guns with them to their daily field work. | As an illustration of the painstaking which characterized pioneer life, we quote the following from Zebulon Collings, who live about six miles from the scene of massacre in the Pigeon Roost settlement: “The manner in which I used to work in those perilous times was as follows: On all occasions I carried my rifle, tomahawk and butcher-knife, with a loaded pistol in my belt. When I wert to plow I laid my gun on the plowed ground, and stuck up a stick by it for a mark, so that I could get it quick in case it was wanted. I had two good dogs; I took one into the house, leaving the other out. The one outside was expected to give the alarm, which would cause the one inside to bark, by which I would be awakened, having my arms always loaded. I kept my horse in a stable close to the hose, having a port-hole so that I could shoot to the stable door. During two years I never went from home with any certainty of returning, not knowing the minute I might receive a ball from an unknown hand.” (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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During the year 1868 the sentiment began to prevail that the processes of law in
relation to criminal proceedings were neither prompt nor sure in the punishment of crime.
It was easy to obtain continuances and changes of venue, and in this way delay the
administration of justice or entirely frustrate it. The consequence was an encouragement
and increase of crime and lynch law became apparent. An event this year excited the public
conscience upon this subject. A gang of robbers, who had been operating many months in the
southern counties, on the 22d of May attacked and a railroad car of the Adams’ Express
company on the Jeffersonville road; they were captured and after being kept several weeks
in custody in Cincinnati, Ohio, they were put on board a train July 20 to be taken to the
county of Jackson in this state for trial. An armed body of the “Vigilance Committee” of
Seymour county lay in wait for the train, stopped the cars by hoisting a red signal on the
track, seized the prisoners, extorted a confession from them a hanged them without a trial. | This same committee, to the number of 75 men, all armed and disguised, entered New Albany on the night of December 12, forcible took the keys of the jail from the Sheriff, and proceeded to hang four others of these railroad robbers in the corridors of the prison. They published a proclamation, announcing by printed handbills that they would “swing by the neck until they be dead every thieving character they could lay their hands on, without inquiry whether they had the persons who committed that particular crime of not.” (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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Rev. Isaac McCoy’s Journeys |
In the Baptist Church, the Rev. Isaac McCoy, whose ministry was largely devoted to the Indians,
holds a conspicuous place among its missionaries. For years this consecrated man traveled up and down the states
of the Mississippi valley, carrying light into dark places and seeking to bring to the untutored savages the
truths of the Gospel. In 1840 he published a book entitled, “A History of Baptist Missions,” in which he told
of his extensive travels and of the work that he dis. This book received the commendation not only of the
greatest ministers of that church bu of its most distinguished laymen as well. It has long been out of print
and at present very few copies are in existence. The Elkhart Public Library is fortunate enough to own on and
from that copy has been obtained the greater part of the formation contained in this chapter. | His travels through northern Indiana took him through Elkhart county several times, from Fort Wayne to Carey mission to Fort Wayne and to points in Ohio. He mentions some of these journeys in his book, giving somewhat extended accounts of his experiences and of the difficulties which he and his companions encountered. He also tells of an interview with Pierre Moran or Peerish, the Pottawattamie chief for whom was reserved by treaty the section of land upon which the original plat of the city of Elkhart is located. One of Rev. Mr. McCoy’s journeys from Carey Mission to Ohio was made in March, 182. He had been in very poor health for some time but on the 19th of March, he started with one of his Indian pupils and two white men. In telling his experiences, Mr. McCoy said: “I had barely recovered my strength so as to be able to ride on horseback, when on March 19th I set out. About this time the snows were melting by rain and consequently the streams were full and the low ground covered with water. We swam our horses across Paugaugo (Baugo) creek, crossing ourselves of a fallen tree. Elksheart river was impassable; we therefore left our path in order to feel our way without a road around the sources of the streams, without crossing the river. At night we had to rake away the snow to make a sleeping place. On the following day, we were obstructed by a large creek, which would have occasioned us not a little difficulty, had we not found an Indian canoe tied near a deserted encampment.” After attending to the matters for which he went to Ohio, he returned immediately to Fort Wayne and was ready to leave with supplies for the mission. On this return trip, they encountered difficulties which seemed incredible to those who know the thoroughfares of Elkhart county and northern Indiana as they are today. Let him tell of his experiences in his own words: “I was back at Fort Wayne and ready to proceed to Carey the 16th of April. The waters were so high and the road, on account of the wet, so bad, that our wagoner, whom I had employed to transport property to our station, refused to proceed with his team, and I was under the necessity of storing up the load. With three wagons, one of which was our own, we set off, having in company Mr. and Miss Wright, who were severally hired to work in the school, six hired men, and our Indian boy. We drove twelve head of cattle and 110 sheep. The rivers were deep at this time and we had no other craft than a large canoe with witch to cross our wagons, baggage and persons. Some of our oxen were unwilling to swim and were dragged across by the horns. We had not proceeded very far when we discovered that the earth was so soft, that we could not get forward with our loads without more force of team. We encamped and sent two men back to Fort Wayne and procured two additional oxen and one horse; a sentinel guarded the sheep all night, to prevent mischief by the wolves. We had not proceeded two miles on the second day when we were again compelled by bad roads to lighten our load. Having a drove of cattle and sheep to manage, besides the wagons, I was subject to fatigue. It rained on us and we encamped at night, wet, hungry and tired. “On the 18th one yoke of oxen failed, so that their owner turned them loose. Some deep creeks were exceedingly troublesome and the sheep had to be dragged through the water. The following day it rained on us incessantly, which induced us, before night, to take shelter in a deserted Indian camp, being all well drenched with rain. At Elksheart river, we halted and made a pirogue, or large canoe, out of a single tree, intending to transport some of our loading down that river and the St. Joseph’s to our place. The road along which we had thus far come was at this time considered even by the government express from the militaly post at Chicago to be impassable. But the want at our station of such property as we carried with us, had impelled us to make extraordinary efforts to get thus far. We felt now that our chief difficulties had been left behind us. The two hired teams were to return from this place to Fort Wayne. “On the 24th, we had our canoe in the river, in which we ferried our wagon, sheep, etc.; horses and cattle swam. After crossing the stock, I took a few hands to collect them and to select a camping place a short distance below, leaving three men to load the canoe with property that was to be freighted down the river and to bring it to our encampment. We had but just settled ourselves at our camp when we discovered the pirogue coming down and went to the river to assist in landing it: before it reached us it became entangled in a tree from which it was not disengaged without taking water. The current was as swift as a mill race and the pirogue was no sooner disengaged from the first tree than it ran foul of another and was capsized. The loading was all turned into the river and everyone plunged in to save what he could. By great exertion we saved eight and a half barrels of flour, two barrels of corn meal, a little seed corn, a box of dried fruit and a few articles of clothing. Some of the things were rescued form the water nearly three miles down the river, Our potatoes, one barrel of flour, one of salt, and other property to some considerable amount were lost and some of that we saved was much damaged. “Our potatoes and some of our corn were for seed for the ensuing season; the articles designed for food we were confident we should greatly need at the station. Weary and wet we surrounded our little fire in the woods, talked over our misfortunes, and felt that it was to us all a sorrowful evening. “On the next day we reloaded our canoe and with three men it again descended the river. There were left with me only one hired hand, Mr. Wright and the Indian boy to take on the wagon, sheep and cattle. We pitched our tent on the bank of the river and waited till our canoe arrived. I went to an Indian camp to obtain meat, of which we had become very scarce, but was unsuccessful, though I bought about a pound and a half of sugar. “April 26th we dragged our sheep through Rock Creek (Rock Run) and on reaching the St. Joseph we again met our canoe, which we needed for the purpose of crossing with our sheep. It rained on us so severely that we had to lie in our tent the latter part of the day. I obtained some venison from an encampment of Indians, but we had to eat it without salt in consequence of our late misfortune of losing our salt in the river. Much exhausted I lay down in our tent and fell asleep and awakening at night, I learned that seventy of our sheep had rambled from camp during the rain and had not been found. I mounted a horse as soon as practicable and proceeded in quest of them, leaving directions with two of the hands to follow me as soon as they could get horses and to meet me at a given point. Having searched the distance of three miles without success, it became very dark and we were in danger of losing ourselves. We had great reason to fear that our flock would suffer by the wolves. I was after them again early on the following morning and about three miles from camp recovered all except one. It required all of this day to get our stock, etc., across the river and it rained on us nearly all of that time. The men being wet and much chilled, we had a large fire burning for them at camp by the time they had completed their day’s work. From the Indians wd obtained a little sugar.” One can scarcely imagine that all of these difficulties in traveling and fording streams were experienced in Elkhart county. With our splendid highways and all of the rivers and creeks spanned with bridges at every crossing we cha scarcely realize that this goodly portion of Indiana ever could have been what Mr. McCoy describes it. But that was in 1823, four years before Andrew Noffsinger, the first permanent settler had made his appearance here. With the exception of the several prairies, this was almost an unbroken forest with no roads except the Indian trails. Rev. Mr. McCoy and his companions must have followed some of these trails at least part of their way. They probably crossed the Elkhart river at Benton or a little farther east, passed though Elkhart prairie, crossed Rock Run within the present city limits of Goshen and proceeded in the direction of Elkhart on the north side of the Elkhart river, for he says nothing of crossing that river again, but does describe the crossing of the St. Joseph and also their camping on the banks of that river before crossing it. Their camp must have been somewhere in what is now East Elkhart, east of the Elkhart river and south of the St. Joseph. Their sheep which wandered three miles from camp must have gone northeast in the direction of Bristol or southeast toward Dunlap. Had they gone eastward or a little south of eastward they would have come to Two-Mile plain and would not have been so difficult to find nor would the travelers have been so much in danger of losing themselves. This is all merely supposition but it is entirely reasonable to think that this was their route of travel as well as the site of their camp. Whether these conjectures are correct or not, we can have only faint ideas of the hardships which those travelers endured on their long and tedious journey. It is difficult to realize, too, that the distance for Fort Wayne to South Bend, which is now cover every day by busses in three hours once took more than twice that many days to travel. If on any part of their journey those people had found a piece of road equal to the worst road that can be found in Elkhart county today they would have been delighted beyond measure. In order to appreciate adequately the highway of the present day we ought to be compelled to make just one trip over the route that was traversed by Rev. Mr. McCoy and his companions, following the Indian trails, fording the rivers and creeks and undergoing all of the hardships that they did. On one of his journeys Mr. McCoy discovered Christiana Creek which he named after his wife. This discovery is supposed to have been made in 1824 although the writer had never come into possession of any positive evidence that this is a fact. However, the city of Elkhart, assuming this to be correct, celebrated the centennial of that discovery in October, 1924. It is not only interesting to follow Missionary McCoy on his repeated journeys through the wilderness, of which Elkhart county was a part, but it should make us appreciate more fully than before the conveniences in traveling which we today enjoy when we have splendid highways and substantial bridges instead of the Indian trails and the old fords. (In an interesting paper read before one of the women’s clubs of Elkhart, Mrs. Elizabeth Pancost quoted Mrs. Ada Maxon Kenyon as saying, “The missionary’s wife, Christiana, washed her clothing on the banks of the creek here, also along the creek up into Michigan and called the creek the Little Christiana River”). (Bartholomew, Stories and Sketches of Elkhart County, Indiana, 1936) |
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In pioneer times the transaction of commerce were generally carried on by neighborhood exchanges.
Now and then a farmer would load a flat-boat with beeswax, honey, tallow and peltries, with perhaps a few
bushels of wheat of corn or a few hundred clapboards, and float down the rivers into the Ohio and thence
to New Orleans, where he would exchange his produce for substantial in the shape of groceries and a little
ready money, with which he would return by some one of the two or three steamboats then running. Betimes
there appeared at the best steamboat landing a number of “middle men” engaged in the “commission and
forwarding” business, buying up the farmers’ produce and the trophies of the chase and the trap, and sending
them to the various distant markets. Their winter’s accumulations would be shipped in spring, and the
manufactured goods of the far East of distant South would come back in return; and in all these transactions
scarcely any money was seen or used. Goods were sold on a year’s time to the farmers, and payment made from
the proceeds of the ensuing crops. When the crops were sold and the merchant satisfied, the surplus was paid
out in order on the store to laboring men and to satisfy other creditors. When a day’s work was done by a
working man, his employer would ask, “Well, what store do you want your order on?” The answer being given,
the order was written and always cheerfully accepted. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | |
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Money was an article little known and seldom seen among the earlier settlers. Indeed, they had
but little use for it, as they could transact all their business about as well without it, and the “barter”
system, wherein great ingenuity was sometimes displayed. When it failed in any instance, long credits
contributed to the convenience of the citizens. But for taxes and postage neither the barter nor the credit
system would answer, and often letters were suffered to remain a long time in the postoffice for the want
of the twenty-five cents demanded by the Government. With all this high price on postage, by the way , the
letter had not been brought 500 miles in a day or two, as is the case nowadays, but had probably been weeks
on the route, and the mail was delivered at the pioneer’s postoffice, several miles distant from his residence,
only once in a week or two. All the mail would be carried by a lone horseman. Instances are related illustrating
how misrepresentation would be restored to in order to elicit the sympathies of some one who was known to have
“two bits” (25 cent) of money with him, and procure the required Governmental fee for a letter. | Peltries came nearer being money than anything else, as it came to be custom to estimate the value of everything in peltries. Such an article was worth so many peltries. Even some tax collectors and postmasters were known to take peltries and exchange them for money required by the Government. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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Not the least of the hardships of the pioneers was the procuring of bread. The first settlers
must be supplied at least one year from other sources than their own lands; but the first crops, however abundant,
gave only partial relief, there being no mills to grind the grain. Hence the necessity of grinding by hand power
and many families were poorly provided with means for doing this. Another way was to grate the corn. A grater was
made from a piece of tin, sometimes taken from an old worn-out tin bucket or other vessel. It was thickly
perforated, bent into a semicircular form, and nailed, rough side upward, on a board. The corn was taken in the
ear, and grated before it got dry and hard. Corn, however, was eaten in various ways. | Soon after the country became more generally settled, enterprising men were ready to embark in the milling business. Sites along the streams were selected for water-power. A person looking for a mill-site would follow up and down the stream for a desired location, and when found he would go before the authorities and secure a writ of ad quod damnum. This would enable the miller to have the adjoining land officially examined, and the amount of damage by making a dam was named. Mills being so great a public necessity, they were permitted to be located upon any person’s land where the miller thought the site desirable. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) |
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The agricultural implements used by the first farmers in this state would in this age
of improvement be great curiosities. The plow used was called the “bar-share” plow; the iron point
consisted of a bar of iron about two feet long, and a broad share of iron welded to it. At the
extreme point was a coulter that passed through a beam six or seven feet long, to which were
attached handles of corresponding length. The mold-board was a wooden one split out of winding
timber, or hewed into a winding shape, in order to turn the soil over. Sown seed was brushed in
by dragging over the ground a sapling with a bushy top. In harvesting the change is most striking.
Instead of the reapers and mowers of to-day, the sickle and cradle were used. The grain was threshed
with a flail, or trodden out by horses or oxen. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Hogs were always dressed before they were taken to market. The farmer, if forehanded, would
call in his neighbors some bright fall or winter morning to help “kill hogs.” Immense kettles of water
were heated; a sled of two, covered with loose boards of plank, constituted the platform on which the
hog was cleaned, and was placed near an inclined hogshead in which the scalding was done; a quilt was
thrown over the top of the latter to retain the heat; from a crotch of some convenient tree a projecting
pole was rigged to hold the animals for disemboweling and thorough cleaning. When everything was arranged, the best shot of the neighborhood loaded his rifle, and the work of killing was commenced. It was considered a disgrace to make a hog “squeal” by bad shooting or by a “shoulder-stick,” that is, running the point of the butcher-knife into the shoulder instead of the cavity of the beast. As each hog fell, the “sticker” mounted him and plunged the butcher-knife, long and well sharpened, into his throat; two persons would then catch him by the hind legs, draw him up to the scalding tub, which had just been filled with boiling-hot water with a shovelful of good green wood ashes thrown in; in this the carcass was plunged and moved around a minute or so, that is, until the hair would slip off easily then placed on the platform where the cleaners would pitch into him with all their might and clean him as quickly as possible, with knives and other sharp-edged implements; then two stout fellows would take him up between them, and a third man to manage the “gambrel” (which was a stout stick about two feet long, sharpened at both ends, to be inserted between the muscles of the hind legs at or near the hock joint), the animal would be elevated to the pole, where the work of cleaning was finished. After the slaughter was over and the hogs had had time to cool, such as were intended for domestic use were cut up, the lard “tried” out by the woken of the household, and the surplus hogs taken to market, while the weather was cold, if possible. In those days almost every merchant had, at the rear end of his place of business or at some convenient building, a “pork-house,” and would buy the pork of his customers and of such others as would sell to him, and cut it for the market. This gave employment to a large number of hands in every village, who would cut and pack pork all winter. The hauling of all this to the river would also give employment to a large number of teams and the manufacture of pork barrels would keep many coopers employed. Allowing for the difference of currency and manner of marketing, the price of pork was not so high in those days as at present. Now, while calico and muslin are ten cents a yard and pork two to four cents a pound, then, while calico and muslin were twenty-five cents a yard pork was one to two cents a pound. When, as the country grew older and communications easier between the seaboard and the great West, prices went up to two and a half and three cents a pound, the farmers thought they would always be content to raise pork at such a price; but times have changed even contrary to the currency. There was one feature in this method of marketing pork that made the country a paradise for the poor man in the winter time. Spare-ribs, tenderloins, and pigs’ feet were not considered of any value, and were freely given to all who could use them. If a barrel was taken to any pork house and salt furnished, the barrel would be filled and salted down with tenderloins and spare-ribs gratuitously. So great in many cases was the quantity of spare-ribs, etc., to be disposed of, that they would be hauled away in wagon-loads and dumped in the woods out of town. In those early times much wheat was marked at twenty-five to fifty cents a bushel, oats the same or less and corn ten cents a bushel. A good young milch-cow could be bought for $5 to $10, and that payable in work. Those might truly be called “close times,” yet the citizens of the country were accommodating, and but very little suffering for the actual necessities of life was ever known to exist. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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When the earliest pioneers reached this Western wilderness, game was his principal food
until he had conquered a farm from the forest of prairie—rarely, then, from the latter. As the country
settled game grew scarce, and by 1850 he who would live by his rifle would have had but a precarious
subsistence had it not been for “wild hogs.” These animals, left by home-sick immigrants whom the
chills or fever and ague had driven out, had strayed into the woods, and began to multiply in a wild
state. The woods each fall were full of acorns, walnuts, hazelnuts, and these hogs would grow fat and
multiply at a wonderful rate in the bottoms and along the bluffs. The second and third immigration to
the country found these wild hogs and unfailing source of meat supply up to that period when they had
in the townships contiguous to the river become so numerous as to be an evil, breaking in the herds
into the farmers con-fields or toling their domestic swine into their retreats, where they too became
as wild as those in the woods. In 1838 or ’39, in a certain township, a meeting was called of citizens
of the township to take steps to get rid of wild hogs. At this meeting, which was held in the spring,
the people of the township were notified to turn out en masse on a certain day and engage in the work
of catching, trimming and branding wild hogs, which were to be turned loose, and the next winter were
to be hunted and killed by the people of the township, the meat to be divided pro rata among the citizens
of the township. This plan was fully carried into effect, two days being spent in the exciting work in
the spring. In the early part of the ensuing winter the settlers again turned out, supplied at convenient points in the bottom with large kettles and barrels for scalding, and while the hunters were engaged in killing, others with houses dragged the carcasses to the scalding platforms where they were dressed; and when all that could be were killed and dressed a division was made, every farmer getting more meat than enough, for his winter’s supply. Like energetic measures were restored to in other townships, so that in two or three years the breed of wild hogs became extinct. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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The principal wild animals found in the state by the early settlers were the deer, wolf,
wild-cat, fox, otter, raccoon, generally called “coon,” woodchuck, or ground-hog, skunk, mink, weasel,
muskrat, opossum, rabbit and squirrel; and the principal feathered game were the quail, prairie chicken
and wild turkey. Hawks, turkey buzzards, crows, blackbirds were also very abundant. Several of these
animals furnished meat for the settlers; but their principal meat did not long consist of game; pork
and poultry were raised in abundance. The wolf was the most troublesome animal, it being the common
enemy of the sheep, and sometimes attacking other domestic animals and even human beings. But their
hideous howling at night was so constant and terrifying that they almost seemed to do more mischief
by that annoyance than by direct attack. They would keep everybody and every animal about the farm-house
awake and frightened, and set all the dogs in the neighborhood to barking. As one man described it:
“Suppose six boys having six dogs tied, whipped them all at the same time, and you would hear such
music as two wolves would make.” To effect the destruction of these animals the county authorities offered a bounty for their scalps; and, besides, big hunts were common. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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In early days more mischief was done by wolves than by any other wild animal, and no
small part of their mischief consisted in their almost constant barking at night, which always seemed
so menacing and frightful to the settlers. Like mosquitoes, the noise they made appeared to be about
us dreadful as the real depredations they committed. The most effectual, as well as the most exciting,
method of ridding the country of these hateful pest, was that known as the “circular wolf hunt,” by
which all the men and boys would turn out on an appointed day, in a kind of circle comprising many
square miles of territory, with houses and dogs, and then close up toward the center of their field
of operation, gathering not only wolves, but also deer and many smaller “varmint.” Five, ten, or more
wolves by this means would sometimes be killed in a single day. The men would be organized with as much
system as a little army, every one being well posted in the meaning of every signal and the application
of every rule. Guns were scarcely ever allowed to be brought on such occasions, as their use would be
unavoidable dangerous. The dogs were depended upon for the final slaughter. The dogs, by the way, had
all to be held in check by a cord in the hands of their keepers until the final signal was given to let
them loose, when away they would all go to the center of battle, and a more exciting scene would follow
than can be easily described. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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In pioneer times snakes were numerous, such as the rattlesnake, viper, adder, blood
snake and many varieties of large blue and green snakes, milk snake, garter and water snakes, black snakes,
etc. If on meeting one of these, you would retreat, they would chase you very fiercely; but if you would
turn and give them battle, they would immediately crawl away with all possible speed, hide in the grass
and weeds, and wait for a “greener” customer. These really harmless snakes served to put people on their
guard against the more dangerous and venomous kind. It was the practice in some sections of the country to turn out in companies, with spades, mattocks and crow-bars, attack the principal snake dens and slay large numbers of them. In early spring the snakes were somewhat torpid and easily captured. Scores of rattlesnakes were sometimes frightened out of a single den, which, as soon as they showed their heads through the crevices of the rocks, were dispatched, and left to be devoured by the numerous wild hogs of that day. Some of the fattest of these snakes were taken to the house and oil extracted fro them, and their glittering skins were saved as specifies for rheumatism. Another method was to so fix a heavy stick over the door of their dens, with a long grape-vine attached, that one at a distanced could plug the entrance to the den when the snakes were all cut sunning themselves. Then a large company of the citizens, on hand by appointment, could kill scores of the reptiles in a few minutes. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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This wild recreation was a peculiar one, and many sturdy backwoodsmen gloried in
excelling in this art. He would carefully watch a bee as it filled itself with the sweet product of some
flower of leaf-bud, and notice particularly the direction taken by it as it struck a “bee-line” for its
home, which when found would be generally high up in the hollow of a tree. The tree would be marked, and
in September a party would go and cut down the tree and capture the honey as quickly as they could before
it wasted away through the broken walls in which it had been so carefully stowed away by the little busy
bee. Several gallons would often be thus taken fro a single tree, and by a very little work, and pleasant
at that, the early settlers could keep themselves in honey the year around. By the time the honey was a
year old, or before, it would turn white and granulate, yet be as good and healthful as when fresh. This
was by some called “candid” honey. In some districts, the resorts of bees would be so plentiful that all the available hollow trees would be occupied and many colonies of bees would be found at work in crevices in the rock and holes in the ground. A considerable quantity of honey has even been taken from such places. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Fires, set out by Indians or settlers, sometimes purposely and sometimes permitted
though carelessness, would visit the prairies every autumn, and sometimes the forests, either in autumn or
spring, and settlers could not always succeed in defending themselves against the destroying element. Many
interesting incidents are related. Often a fire was started to bewilder game, or to bare a piece of ground
for the early grazing of stock the ensuing spring, and it would get away under a wind, and soon be beyond
control. Violent winds would often arise and drive the flames with such rapidity that riders on the fleetest
steeds could scarcely escape. On the approach of a prairie fire the farmer would immediately set about
“cutting off supplies” for the devouring enemy by a “back fire.” This, by starting a small fire near the
bare ground about his premises, and keeping it under control next to his property, he would burn of a strip
around him and prevent the attack of the on-coming flames. A few furrows or a ditch around ht farm constituted
a help in the work of protection. An original prairie of tall and exuberant grass on fire, especially at night, was a magnificent spectacle, enjoyed only by the pioneer. Here is an instance where the frontiersman, proverbially deprived of the sights and pleasures of an old community, is privileged for beyond the people of the present day in this country. One could scarcely tire of beholding the scene, as its awe-inspiring features seem constantly to increase, and the whole panorama unceasingly changed like the dissolving views of a magic lantern, or like the aurora borealis. Language cannot convey, words cannot express, the faintest idea of the splendor and grandeur of such a conflagration at night. It was as if the pale queen of night, disdaining to take her accustomed place in the heavens, had dispatched myriads upon myriads of messengers to light their torches at the altar of the setting sun until all had flashed into one long and continuous blaze. The following graphic description of prairie fires was written by a traveler through this region in 1849: “Soon the fires began to kindle wider and rise higher from the long grass; the gentle breeze increased to stronger currents, and soon fanned the small, flickering blaze into fierce torrent flames, which curled up and leaped along in resistless splendor; and like quickly raising the dark curtain from the luminous stage, the scene before me were suddenly changed, as if by the magician’s wand, into one boundless amphitheatre, blazing form earth to heaven and sweeping the horizon round,—columns of lurid flames sportively mounting up to the zenith, and dark clouds of crimson smoke curling away and aloft till they nearly obscured stars and moon, while the rushing, crashing sounds, like roaring cataracts mingled with distant thunders, were almost deafening; danger, death, glared all around; it screamed for victims; yet, notwithstanding the imminent peril of prairie fires, one is loth, irresolute, almost unable to withdraw or seek refuge.” (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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One of the greatest obstacles to the early settlement and prosperity of this state was
the “Chills and fever,” “fever and ague,” or “shakes,” as it was variously called. It was a terror
to new-comers; in the fall of the year almost everybody was afflicted with it. It was no respecter
of persons; everybody looked pale and sallow as though he were frost-bitten. It was not contagious,
but derived from impure water and air, which are always developed in the opening up of a new country
of rank soil like that of the Northwest. The impurities continue to be absorbed from day to day, and
from week to week, until the whole body corporate became saturated with it as with electricity, and
then the shock came; and the shock was a regular shake, with a fixed beginning and ending, coming on
in some cases each day but generally on alternate days, with a regularity that was surprising. After
the shake came the fever, and this “last estate was worse than the first.” It was a burning-hot fever,
and lasted for hours. When you had the chill you couldn’t get warm, and when you had the fever you
couldn’t get cool. It was exceedingly awkward in this respect; indeed it was. When the appointed time
came around, everything else had to be stopped to attend to its demands. Your whole body and soul
were entirely woe-begone. Whole families would sometimes be sick at one time and not one member scarcely able to wait upon another Labor or exercise always aggravated the malady, and it took General Laziness a long time to thrash the enemy out. And those were the days for swallowing all sorts of roots and “yarbs,” and whisky, etc., with some faint hope of relief. And finally, when the case wore out, the last remedy taken got the credit of the cure. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Though struggling through the pressure of poverty and privation, the early settlers
planted among them the school-house at the earliest practical period. So important an object as the
education of their children they did not defer until they could build more comely and convenient houses.
They were for a time content with such as corresponded with their rude dwellings, but soon better
buildings and accommodations were provided. As may readily be supposed, the accommodations of the
earliest schools were not good. Sometimes school was taught in a room of a large or a double log
cabin, but oftener in a log house built for the purpose. Stoves and such heating apparatus as are
now in use were then unknown. A mud-and-stick chimney on one end of the building, with earthen hearth
and a fire-place wide and deep enough to receive a four to six-foot back-log, and smaller wood to
match, served for warming purposes in winter and a kind of conservatory in summer. For windows, part
of a log was cut out in two sides of the building, and may be a few lights of eight by ten glass set
in, or the aperture might be covered over with greased paper. Writing desks consisted of heavy oak
plank or a hewed slab laid upon wooden pins driven into the wall. The four-legged slab benches were
in front of these, and the pupils when not writing would sit with their backs against the front, sharp
edge of the writing-desk. The floor was also made out of these slabs, of “puncheons,” laid upon log
sleepers. Everything was rude and plain; but many of America’s greatest men have gone out from just
such school-houses to grapple with the world and make names for themselves and reflect honor upon
their country. Among these we can name Abraham Lincoln, our martyred president, one of the noblest
men known to the world’s history. Stephen A. Douglas, one of the greatest statesmen of the age, began
his career in Illinois teaching in one of these primitive school-houses. Joseph A Wright, and several
others of Indiana’s great statesmen have also graduated from the log school-house into political eminence.
So with many of her most eloquent and efficient preachers. Imagine such a house with the children seated around, and the teacher seated on one end of a bench, with no more desk at his hand than any other pupil has, and you have in view the whole scene. The “schoolmaster” has called “Books! Books! At the door, and the “scholars” have just run in almost out of breath from vigorous play, have taken their seats, and are for the moment “saying over their lessons” to themselves with all their might, that is, in as loud a whisper as possible. While they are thus engaged the teacher is perhaps sharpening a few quill pens for the pupils, for no other kind of writing pen had been though of as yet. To prevent wearing the books out at the lower corner every pupil was expected to keep a “thumb-paper” under his thumb as he holds the book; even then the books wee soiled and worn out at this place in a few weeks, so that a part of many lessons were gone. The chief text-books in which the “scholars” got their lessons were Webster’s or some other elementary spelling-book, an arithmetic, maybe Pike’s, Dilworth’s, Smiley’s, or Adams’, McGuffey’s or the old English reader, and Roswell C. Smith’s geography and atlas. Very few at the earliest day, however, got so far along as to study geography. Nowadays, in contrast with the above, look at the “ographies” and “ologies!” Grammar and composition were scarcely though of until Indiana was a quarter of a century old, and they were introduced in such a way that their utility was always questioned. First, old Murray’s, then Kirkham’s grammar, were the text-books on this subject. “Book larnin’” instead of practical oral instruction, was the only thing supposed to be attained in the primitive log school-house days. But writing was generally taught with fair diligence. “Past the pictures” This phrase had its origin in the practice of pioneer schools which used Webster’s Elementary Spelling Book. Toward the back part of that time-honored text book was a series of seven or eight pictures, illustrating morals, and after these again were a few more spelling exercises of a peculiar kind. When a scholar got over into these he was said to be “past the pictures,” and was looked up to as being smarter and more learned than most other people ever hoped to be. Hence the application of this phrase to be extended to other affairs in live, especially where scholarship was involved. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Many of the older residents of the county were familiar with the old McGuffey readers as
well as the McGuffey’s spelling book, in their youthful days and no doubt a majority of those who used
them look back with fond recollection to those days. Those books began to be used in some sections of
the country in the thirties and were used for almost a half century. Just when they were introduced into
Elkhart county is not known but it must have been before 1850. Very few, if any, of those who were pupils
in the schools at that time are living when this is being written, so it has been impossible to find out
anything concerning their introduction here. They were not the only readers used because uniformity of
text books was not required for many years, so that some of the pupils were permitted to use any books
which they happened to have in their homes. It was nothing unusual to see a class of a single pupil There were several editions of McGuffey’s readers published during the time they were used. The old edition was much more difficult to read than the new. In fact the new second readers were made up largely of selections from the old first, the new third from the old second, the new fourth from the third, the new fifth from the old fourth. The new series was also put up in a more attractive style than were the old and, as is readily understood, this made them easier to read and to study than the corresponding number of the old series. The new McGuffey readers were continued in use in Elkhart county until 1880. At the semi-annual meeting of the county board of education on the first Monday in September of that year the question of readers to be used for the six years following came up for consideration. Several text book firms had representatives on the ground, each one employing every means at his command to induce the board to adopt his books. Clark and Maynard’s representative secured the adoption of Anderson’s histories to replace Lossing’s history on the basis of a free exchange of new books roe old. When it came to readers it was not so easy. The Appletons had a representative W. H. Wheeler, a former superintendent of the Warsaw school, and a man of more then ordinary ability as a salesman. He used all of his powers of persuasion to have the Appleton readers adopted. A vote was taken, resulting adversely to a change. The board adjourned and the matter was considered settled against any change of readers. But Mr. Wheeler had succeeded in ingratiating himself into the favor of a number or the trustees to such an extent that he was able to induce them to ask the county superintendent, David Moury, to call the members of the board back into special session to reconsider the matter. There was hurrying and scurrying about by the trustees who favored the Appleton books to find the other trustees before they left town and get them back to the court house where the meeting was held. Meanwhile a petition asking for the adoption of the Appleton readers was circulated among the students of the Elkhart County Normal School, which was then in session, and sighed by nearly all who were present on that day. Whether this petition had any influence can not be said. At any rate, after a motion for reconsideration was passed the board voted unanimously to adopt the Appleton readers. The Appleton books were good readers and there in no particular fault to find with them, but in some respects the selections for reading were not equal to those in the old McGuffey’s. Not until the change had been made was it realized how much the teachers and pupils alike thought of those of readers. As the years have passed they have become dearer to us. Not only were the selections adapted to the grades for which they had been prepared, but they taught many valuable lessons which those of us who studied them can never forget. Take that one from William Wirt, “No excellence without labor.” If that selection is carefully studied and its lesson heeded it can not fail to be helpful. “The necessity of education” points out the true value of an education and should furnish an incentive to put forth every effort to secure the best education within reach. Then there are many choice specimens of literature in the fourth, fifth and sixth readers which ought to awaken a taste for the good and true in American and English authors, as well as a desire to read only the best. There are excerpts from the writings of Nathaniel Hawthorn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, William Cullen Bryant, Daniel Webster, Washington Irving, Edward Everett, Elihu Burritt, Charles Dickens, Sir Walter Scott, John Greenleaf Whittier, and many others whose works are worth reading and which furnish a sufficient variety to gratify the taste of everybody whose taste had not become perverted by reading worthless books or yellow journals. Beside these there are poems and stories in lighter vein which may well serve for purposes of relaxation from the more serious reading and from difficult lessons or problems. There is no doubt that those old readers, from the first to the fifth, played an important part in the education of the young people who used them. Present day educators may not consider them equal to those now in use, but judging by results, they are not in the least inferior. They were more difficult and it required more effort to master then, but that was not considered an objection. That effort was a help toward intellectual development, which is one of the chief purposes of our schools. Besides, a great many of the lessons were selected with the view of teaching good citizenship and of awakening in the pupils a desire to grow into the best types of men and women, which is, after all, the true purpose of an education. In fact it is scarcely too much to say that the complete mastery of the contents of those old readers and a full comprehension of all their lessons was really in itself a liberal and well rounded education. Besides the readers there were the old McGuffey spellers which succeeded the old blue Elementary speller that was used by jour grandfathers and grandmothers. There were two editions of the speller. The old edition had pictures and simple stories interspersed through the book, a dozen pages or more apart. The new edition had in place of those pictures and stories dictation exercises. These were short sentences, each sentence containing two italicized words of the same sound, but of different spelling and different meaning. Some of our teachers required us to spell only the italicized words whole others had us spell all of the words in the sentence after it was read to us. It kept us on the alert to know which word to spell, especially when the sentences were rather long, as some of them were toward the end of the book. Out side of this difference the lessons were about the same in both editions. Some of the lessons were quite difficult and it required a great deal of study to master them. Sometimes the class would have to take the lesson over again if there were many words misspelled and this we disliked very much to do. Studying the lesson a second time was rather irksome. At the end of the book were several pages of French and Latin words and phrases with translations directly opposite in another column. We were usually required to learn to spell those words and phrases also, and to give the translations. If we finished the book before the end of the school term, then for the few days remaining lessons would be selected at random from different parts of the book. Sometimes, but not often, we would be called to the class without having any lesson assigned to us, and words would be pronounced to us from a number of different lessons. There are now but few of those old books, either spellers or readers in existence. The writer has copies of the old edition of the fourth and fifth readers and other new editions of the fourth, fifth and sixth readers; also a copy of each edition of the spelling book. It has taken quite awhile to obtain these books, which were picked up wherever they could be found. Some were bought for a mere trifle. Others cost more than new books. All of them are prized very highly, even though some of them have had hard usage and are in a very dilapidated condition. About eight years ago a rather voluminous correspondence was carried on through the columns of the Indianapolis News by many individuals who had used the McGuffey books in their school days. Those letters told many interesting experiences which were greatly enjoyed by all who were acquainted with those books. This correspondence led to the organization of a society at Indianapolis called the McGuffeyites. Invitations were extended to all former McGuffey pupils to become members and the society soon had members in every section of the state. The writer became a member a year or so after the society was organized. Soon after its formation it began the publication of a little monthly periodical, called the McGuffeyite, in which were published the proceedings of its meetings and letters from its members who had something interesting to tell. It numbered among its membership distinguished men and women, not only in Indiana, but in other states. Louis Ludlow, Member of Congress from the Indianapolis district, and author of that entertaining volume, “In the Heart of Hoosierland,” was one of its members and contributed many interesting articles to the McGuffeyite. Will Rogers the humorist, was another enthusiastic member. Meetings were held once a month, which were attended by residents members and others who lived near enough to reach the capitol city. The old readers were talked about and experiences were exchanged, making some very interesting programs, reports of which reached the far away members through the columns of the McGuffeyite. Because of financial difficulties the paper suspended publication after it had run two or three years. In October, 1928, the Elkhart County Historical Society held its fall meeting at Edgewood, the county home of the writer, with a McGuffey program. Several former teachers who had used the McGuffey books were present and we also had some of the McGuffey readers and spellers. Among the old teachers were Dr. M. K. Kreider and Dr. I. J. Beknell, both octogenarians, and S. F. Spohn, former county superintendent. They gave some interesting talks about the days when they wielded the birch in the old one room school houses. Dr. Kreider taught in Baugo and Harrison townships and Dr. Becknell taught in Harrison township and at Waterford. He taught as early as the days of backless benches and other like inconveniences. Sometimes there were as many as seventy-five or eighty pupils crowded in those small school houses. Mr. Spohn taught later than did the two venerable physicians, but his experience went back more than a half century. All of them used the McGuffey readers and spellers during most of the time they were in the school room. Dr. Kreider was able to repeat quite a number of the selections from the old readers. All three of the old teachers agreed that no better readers were placed in the public schools than the old McGuffey readers. (Bartholomew, Stories and Sketches of Elkhart County, Indiana, 1936) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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The chief public evening entertainment for the first 30 or 40 years of Indiana’s existence
was the celebrated “Spelling school.” both young people and old looked forward to the next spelling school
with as much anticipation and anticipation and anxiety as we nowadays look forward to a general Fourth of
July celebration; and when the time arrived the whole neighborhood, yea, and sometimes several neighborhoods,
would flock together to the scene of academical combat, where the excitement was often more intense than had
been expected. It was far better, of course, when there was good sleighing; then the young folks would turn
out in high glee and be fairly beside themselves. The jollity is scarcely equaled at the present day by
anything in vogue. When the appointed hour arrived, the usual plan of commencing battle was for two of the young people who might agree to play against each other, or who might be selected to do so by the school teacher of the neighborhood, to “choose sides,” that is, each contestant, or “captain,” as he was generally called, would choose the best speller form the assembled crowd. Each one choosing alternately, the ultimate strength of the respective parties would be about equal. When all were chosen who could be made to serve, each side would “number,” so as to ascertain whether amid the confusion one captain had more spellers than the other. In case he had, some compromise would be made by the aid of the teacher, the master of ceremonies, and then the plan of conducting the campaign, or counting the misspelled words, would be canvassed for a moment by the captains, sometimes by the aid of the teacher and other. There were many ways of conducting the contest and keeping tally. Every section of the country had several favorite methods, and all or most of these were different from what other communities had. At one time they would commence spelling at the head, at another time at the foot: at one time they would “spell across,” that is, the first on one side would spell the first word, then the first on the other side; next the second in the line on each side, alternately, down to the other end of each line. The question who should spell the first word was determined by the captains guessing what page the teacher would have before him in a partially opened book at a distance; the captains guessing the nearest would spell the first word pronounced. When a word was missed, it would be re-pronounced, or passed along without re-pronouncing (as some teachers strictly followed the rule never to re-pronounce a word), until it was spelled correctly. If a speller on the opposite side finally spelled the missed word correctly, it was counted a gain of one to that side; if the word was finally corrected by some speller on the same side on which it was originated as a missed word, it was “saved,” and no tally mark was made. Another popular method was to commence at one end of the line of spellers and go directly around, and the missed words caught up quickly and corrected by “word-catchers,” appointed by the captains from among their best spellers. These word-catchers would attempt to correct all the words missed on his opponent’s side, and failing to do this, the catcher on the other side would catch him up with a peculiar zest, and then there was fun. Still another very interesting, though somewhat disorderly method, was this: Each word-catcher would go to the foot of the adversary’s line, and every time he “catched” a word he would go up one, thus “turning them down” in regular spelling –class style. When one catcher in this way turned all down on the opposing side, his own party was victorious by as many as the opposing catcher was behind. This method required no slate or blackboard tally to be kept. One turn, by either of the foregoing or other methods, would occupy 40 minutes to an hour, and by this time an intermission or recess was had, when the bussing, cackling and hurrahing that ensued for 10 or 15 minutes were beyond description. Coming to order again, the next style of battle to be illustrated was to “spell down,” by which process it was ascertained who were the best spellers and could continue standing as a soldier the longest. But very often good spellers would inadvertently miss a word in an early stage of the contest and would have to sit down humiliated, while a comparatively poor speller would often stand till nearly or quite the last, amid the cheers of the assemblage. Sometimes the two parties first “chosen up” in the evening would re-take their places after recess, so that by the “spelling-down” process there would virtually be another race, in another form; sometimes there would be a new “choosing up” for the “spelling-down” contest; and sometimes the spelling down would be conducted without any party lines being made. It would occasionally happen that two or three very good spellers would retain the floor so long that the exercise would become monotonous, when a few outlandish words like “chevaux-de-frixe,” “Omopmpanoosuc” or “Baugh-naugh-claugh-ber,” as they used to spell it sometimes, would create a little ripple of excitement to close with. Sometimes these words would decide the contest, but generally when two or three good spellers kept the floor until the exercise became monotonous, the teacher would declare the race closed and the standing spellers acquitted with a “drawn game.” The audience dismissed, the next thing was to “go home,” very often by a round-about way, “a-sleighing with the girls,” which, of course, was with many the most interesting part of the evening’s performances, sometimes, however, too rough to be commended, as the boys were often inclined to be somewhat rowdyish. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Next to the night spelling school the singing school was an occasion of much jollity,
wherein it was difficult for the average singing master to preserve order, as many went more for fun
than for music. This species of evening entertainment, in its introduction to the West, was later than
the spelling school, and served, as it were, as the second step toward the more modern civilization.
Good sleighing weather was, of course, almost a necessity for the success of these schools, but how
many of them have been prevented by mud and rain! Perhaps a greater part of the time from November to
April the roads would be muddy and often half frozen, which would have a very dampening and freezing
effect upon the souls, as well as the bodies, of the young people who longed for a good time on such
occasions. The old-time method of conducting singing school was also somewhat different from that of modern times. It was more plodding and heavy, the attention being kept upon the simplest rudiments, as the manes of the notes on the staff, and their pitch, and beating time, while comparatively little attention was given to expression and light, gleeful music. The very earliest scale introduced in the West was from the South, and the notes, from their peculiar shape, were denominated “patent” or “buckwheat” notes. They were four, of which the round one was always called sol, and square one la, the triangular one fa, and the “diamond-shaped” one mi, and the diatonic scale, or “gamut” as it was called then, ran thus: fa, sol, la, fa, sol, la mi fa. Part of the tune nowadays called “treble,” or “soprano,” was then called “tenor,” the part now called “tenor” was called “treble” and the what is now “alto” was then “counter,” and when sung according to the oldest rule, was sung by a female an octave higher than marked, and still on the “chest register.” The “old” “Missouri Harmony” and Mason’s “Sacred Harp” were the principal books used with this style of musical notation. About 1850 the “round-note” system began to come around, being introduced by the Yankee singing-master. The scale was do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do; and for many years thereafter there was much do-re-mi-ing than is practiced at the present day, when a musical instrument is always under the hand. The Carmina Sacra was the pioneer round-not book, in which the tunes more of the German or Puritan character, and were generally regarded by the old folks as being far more spiritless than the old “Pisgah, Fiducia, Tender Thought, New Durham, Windsor, Mount Sion, Devotion, etc., of the old Missouri harmony and tradition. (Chapman, History of Elkhart County, 1881) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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It is probable that nobody who is now living knows anything about the method of letter
writing or the materials used therefore a century ago, unless he has been told about it by some of
his ancestors. At the fall meeting of the Elkhart County Historical Society in 1898, a letter written
by the late Wilber L. Stonex describing both the process and the materials was read before that body.
The letter was published in the Goshen Democrat and has been in one of the author’s scrap books
thirty-eight years. Believing that this description will interest the reader of this volume the
letter is here reprinted. “To the Elkhart County Historical Society: “I had hoped to be able to present to this society a complete set of appliances used by the early settlers of this county in letter writing. I am unable to do so, but am able to present the most essential articles and am also able to tell something of their use and how they were made. “The pen was a goose quill cut to a point. This required a small, narrow and very sharp knife blade. The knife used was called a pen knife, which was a necessary part of the household utensils. They were often made of fine workmanship and were always appropriate gifts. The ink was generally home made and each family supplied itself. If red it was made of the juice of poke berries; if black or dark colored it was generally made by boiling down maple bark. A better garde of black ink was made of logwood and copperas, and sometimes it was made by the use of a prepared composition called an ink ball. The ink was kept in earthen ware bottles before glass came into common use. “Blotting pads were unknown and the excess of ink was generally absorbed by sprinkling on the freshly written page either ashes from the hearth or sand or pumice. If the last named were used, it was necessary to have them kept in a box, usually of tin with a perforated lid through which to sprinkle the sand or pumice on the paper. This box was quite similar to the ordinary tin pepper boxes used in our kitchen, except that the lid was concave so as to allow the easy pouring of the excess of sand or pumice back into the box. The sand was usually black, but whether it was natural of that color, or because colored by use, I am unable to say. I have been unable to procure one of those boxes, but many are still in existence and any person having one who will present it to the society will confer a great favor. “If a copy of the letter was desired it was necessary to copy it by had as no method was then known of artificially duplicating or copying letters. “Separate envelopes were unknown and when a letter had been written it was necessary to fold the paper so as to leave an unwritten part on the outside upon which to write the address of the person to whom it was to be sent. When so folded the letter was sealed, as it was termed, by inserting a moistened wafer under a loose edge of the paper and pressing upon it with a seal so as to press the paper into the wafer and causing it to adhere. The seal was in its simplest form a rough faced metal disk attached to a handle or knob. The one I have here is the most common form. Some were very elaborate and costly, but our early settlers probably knew very little of that kind and as seals were not absolutely necessary they more frequently used none. When the seal was lacking it was sufficient to press upon the wafer with the thumb or some other substitute. On the letter I have here no seal was used. Postage was paid to the post master in money either by the sender of receiver of the letter. Postage stamps were, of course, unknown. The amount of the postage was written on the letter and depended upon the distance to which the letter was to be carried. The letter which I have and now present to this society was written in the spring of 1847 from Michigan City by my father to Rev. Christian Beers, father-in-law of Frank B. De Frees. Both of these gentlemen were pioneers in the Methodist ministry in this county. The letter itself has some special interest in reference to the disturbance caused by the hostility the North and the South. It also has a reference to the prevalence of fever and ague which is interesting. The writer says ‘Ague is accounted next to nothing in the way of sickness, and you pass current for being tolerable well if one has only the ague.’ This referred particularly to Michigan City. With the letter I also gave one of the wafers, a seal of a quill pen. I have also a pen knife which is a cherished family relic, but which I hope some time to secure for the society.” |
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| Wilber L. Stonex |
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The articles mentioned by Mr. Stonex are in the society’s collection of relics and can
be seen by visitors. As they long ago passed out of use they are quite interesting. (Bartholomew, Stories
and Sketches of Elkhart County, Indiana, 1936) | ||
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The history of pioneer life generally presents the dark side of the picture; but the
toils and privations of the early settlers were not a series of unmitigated sufferings. No; for
while the fathers and mothers toiled hard, they were not averse to a little relaxation, and had
their seasons of fun and enjoyment. They contrived to do something to break the monotony of their
daily life and furnish them a good hearty laugh. Among the more general forms of amusements were
the quilting-bee, corn-husking, apple-paring, log-rolling, and house-raising. Our young readers
will doubtless be interested in a description of these forms of amusement, when labor was made to
afford fun and enjoyment to all participating. The quilting-bee, as its name implies, was when the
industrious qualities of the busy little insect that “improves each shining hour” were exemplified
in the manufacture of quilts for the household. In the afternoon ladies for miles around gathered
at an appointed place, and while their tongues would not cease to play, the hands were as busily
engaged in making the quilt; and desire as always manifested to get it out as quickly as possible,
for then the fun would begin. In the evening the gentlemen came, and the hours would then pass
swiftly by in playing games or dancing. Corn-huskings were when both sexes united in the work.
They usually assembled in a large barn, which was arranged for the occasion; and when each gentleman
had selected a lady partner the husking began. When a lady found a red ear she was entitled to a
kiss from every gentleman present; when a gentleman found one he was allowed to kiss every lady
present. After the corn was all husked a good supper was served; then the old folks would leave,
and the remainder of the evening was spent in the dance and in having a general good time. The
recreation afforded to the young people on the annual recurrence of these festive occasions was as
highly enjoyed, and quite as innocent as the amusements of the present boasted age of refinement
and culture. The amusements of the pioneers were peculiar to themselves. Saturday afternoon was a holiday in which no man was expected to work. A load of produce might be taken to town for sale or traffic without violence to custom, but no more serious labor could be tolerated. When on Saturday afternoon the town was reached, fun commenced. Had two neighbors business to transact, here it was done. Horses were swapped. Difficulties settled and free fights indulged in. Blue and red ribbons were not worn in those days, and whisky was as free as water; twelve and a half cents would buy a quart, and thirty-five or forty cents a gallon, and at such prices enormous quantities were consumed. Go to any town in the county and ask the first pioneer you meet, and he would tell you of notable Saturday afternoon fights, either of which to-day would fill a column of the Police News, with elaborate engravings to match. Mr. Sandford C. Cox quaintly describes some o the happy features of frontier life in this manner: We cleared land, rolled logs, burned bushes, blazed out paths from one neighbor’s cabin to another and from one settlement to another, made and used hand-mills and hominy mortars, hunted deer, turkey, otter, and raccoon, caught fish, dug ginseng, hunted bees and the like, and lived on the fat of the land. We read of a land of “corn and wine,” and another “flowing with milk and honey;” but I rather think, in a temporal point of view, taking into account the richness of the soil, timber, stone, wild game and other advantages, that the Sugar creek country would come up to any of them, if not surpass them. I once cut cord-wood, continues Mr. Cox, at 31 ¼ cents per cord, and walked a mile and a half night and morning where the first frame college was built northwest of town (Crawfordsville). Prof. Curry, the lawyer, would sometimes come down and help for an hour or two at a time, by way of amusement, as there was little or no law business in the town or country at that time. Reader, what would you think of going six miles to help roll logs, or raise a cabin? Or ten to thirteen miles to mill, and wait three or four days and nights for your grist? As many had to do in the first settlement of this country. Such things were of frequent occurrence then, and there was but little grumbling about it. It was a grand sight to see the log heaps and brush piles burning in the night on a clearing of 10 or 15 acres. A Democratic torchlight procession, or a midnight march of the Sons of Malta with their grand Gyasticutus in the center bearing the grand jewel of the order, would be nowhere in comparison with the log-heaps and brush piles in a blaze. But it may be asked, Had you any social amusements, or manly pastimes, to recreate and enliven the dwellers in the wilderness? We had. In the social line we had jour meetings and our singing-schools, sugar-boilings and weddings, which were as good as ever came off in any country, new or old; and if our youngsters did not “trip the light fantastic toe” under a professor of the Terpsechorean art or expert French dancing-master, they had many a good hoe-down on puncheon floors and were not annoyed by bad whisky. And as for manly sports, requiring mettle and muscle, there were lots of wild hogs running in the cat-tail swamps on Lye creek, and Mill creek, and among them many large boars that Ossian’s heroes and Homer’s model soldiers, such as Achilles, Hector and Ajax would have delighted to give chase to. The boys and men of those days had quite as much sport, and made more money and health by their hunting excursions than our city gents nowadays playing chess by telegraph where the players are more than 70 miles apart. (Chapman, History of Elkhart ounty, 1881) | ||
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