Menard County

CHAPTER XII.

N THE early settlement of Menard County there were natural divisons that preserved their identity. East of the Sangamon River there were New Market, Lebanon and Athens; west of the river was "Wolf County," which was bounded on the north by Rock Creek, on the west by the Springfield road, on the south by Purkapile branch, and on the east by the river. In this territory lived a population from Kentucky. There was Case Pemberton, the horse trader; it was as good as going to a circus to go past his house in trading season. Horses by the dozen could be seen, awaiting their turn for a "swap." He lived there many years, then moved to Mason County, and finally to California, where, if yet living, I have no doubt he is still trading horses. Jack Pemberton, a brother of Case, was constable for a long time. Afterwards he moved to Mason County and died near Forest City many years ago.

There was Isaac Schmick, who cleared off a farm in the center of Wolf, when he could have got a good farm in the prairie without clearing it. He had a large ox team and a plow with a wooden mould-board that could turn over just what the yokes on the oxen could bend over.

There were the Tibbses, the Wisemans, the Duncans, the Hohimers, the Hornbuckles, and others whose names sixty years of time have obliterated from my memory, though it is good.

These were the original settlers. They were a kind people and would divide their corncake with a friend. They were fond of the shooting match and the "muster" which was held once a year; and at a house-raising or any gathering the Wolverines were always on hand. They would come to Petersburg in good humor, but after filling up on whisky were ready for a racket among themselves, though preferably with outsiders. "George, you have torn my shirt," said little John Wiseman to Greasy George Miller. "Yes," said George, "and I can tear your hide, too!" A ring would form at once and twenty men would stop to see fair play. The men would pound each other till one would cry "enough," and that would settle the matter of the torm shirt.

At Clary's Grove and Little Grove were the Gums, the Watkinses, the Dowells, the Arnolds, the Bonds and the Kirbys. They would come to Petersburg on a Saturday afternoon, twenty-five or more in a body, "strapping big" fellows, bare-footed and riding their three-year-old colts. barebacked. On they would come with a dash, single file, whooping and yelling, "Jess" Kirby in the lead. A band of Comanche Indians could not give the warwhoop more lustily than "Jess" and his gang. After riding around the court house square several times they would face up in front of a saloon and get their breath; then one of the crowd would challenge the world in saying that his "hoss" could beat any other "hoss" that ever made a track in the 'Burg for $10. This was a bluff. They had no intention of running. Then they would tie their horses to the hitchracks and do their trading, which consisted mainly in getting something to drink or a plug of "terbacker.”

About this time the boys from the north would begin to arrive. The Clarys were in the majority. Bill Jones and Royal Armstrong had a lot of boys and in a short time they

would arrange a wrestle or a jumping match, or some amusement that required an exhibition of physical strength. Or, perhaps, they would match a horse race to come off the next Saturday on Joe Watkins' track. The bets rarely exceeded ten dollars.

The next thing in order was to go in swimming at the old Elm tree, which was a short distance above the bridge. There was almost any depth of water there, and the boys would take their three-year-old colts in the river to break them. A horse is at disadvantage when in water over his depth. The boys would take one in, several of them would get on his back, others would cling to his mane and some to his tail, and by the time they let him come out they could do almost anything with him. This sport would last a couple of hours and then, back to town. Every man to his horse, and after galloping around the square "Jess" Kirby would strike for Tanyard Hollow with a warwhoop and a yell, and the Grove boys were gone until the next Saturday. The Wolf and Sandridge boys were not under such good control and went home as they pleased.

I often wonder what kind of men these pioneer boys made. Have their lives been spent in dissipation, or have they made men of honor and integrity, whose children rise up to call them blessed? Many of them I have never met since boyhood, when we were all reckless. Some of them, I know, have been among Menard's honored and respected citizens.

Family feuds were common in the early days. Over some imaginary wrong or insult one family would become arrayed against another family and it required only a spark to kindle a flame. I recollect two families, one by the name of C, the other by the name of W, who had for years been nagging each other. One day in the "thirties," at Salem, the quarrel was renewed. W said: "Let's

go across the river and settle it, once and forever; and let no person go across with us." C agreed to the proposition. The crowd went to the river and not a man was allowed to go over with the combatants. They stripped and fought like beasts till both were down; then those who were on the Salem side of the river thought they should be parted, so they went over and made them shake hands, and they were friends from that time. W never saw a well day

afterwards and died in a year or so as the result of injuries received in the encounter. This incident is given to show the kind of civilization that was predominant in those days, though many of the old citizens never had to contend with its barbaric customs. Only those who trained in that class were subject to its conditions.

As Governor Palmer said at Old Salem Chautauqua last August, the horserace, the gander pulling and the shooting match had to give way to the Chautauqua. In coming years, when the old citizens of Menard shall annually assemble on these consecrated grounds with their children and their children's children, they will have cause to bless the new order of things.

Cast

STORIES OF PIONEER DAYS

In December, 1830, it commenced snowing and it snowed till the middle of February, 1831. It is remembered by all the old settlers as "the winter of the deep snow." It created great hardship all over the country. People were not prepared for it. The feed was out in the fields; the stock did not have sheds to protect them; the roads were impassable; the tops of the corn shocks could just be seen.

We lived in the west-part of Salem before we moved. into the hotel. My father had a team of horses and a cow and had a few acres of corn on Thomas Watkins' farm, a mile west of Salem. The roads were covered from

four to six feet deep with snow with a hard crust on top that would let a horse down through, though a man could walk on top. Father would start out in the morning and be gone all day and dig out enough corn fodder to feed two days. It snowed every day for two months and the track that was broken one day would be filled the next.

Every person now living who was born before that winter is called a "Snow Bird." I was born just before and have my snow bird badge which was given me at the Old Settlers' meeting at Sugar Grove four years ago. I prize it very highly and would not trade it for a hundred. wild turkeys running at large in Oregon.

I don't recollect the deep snow, yet I have heard it talked about so much that I sometimes think I saw it.

There was very little traveling in those days. It was all the snow birds could do to stay at home. There was not much to travel for. The farmers had their bread and meat at home. If they ran out of meal they had their hominy mortars at home and could soon make some coarse meal. They had salted down their pork that was fattened on acorns. They did not take a daily paper as we do now. I doubt if there was a daily paper taken within the bounds of Menard county. Indeed, I doubt if there was a daily paper printed in the state.

But it kept on snowing until the snow birds began to wonder if it was going to snow all summer. In February it began to thaw and the waters raised till they measured higher than they ever had before or since the days of Noah's flood.

The country then was full of deer, wild turkeys and prairie chickens. The snow would not hold up the deer; their sharp hoofs would cut through and they would sink down, while the wolves could travel on the snow and devour the deer. The deer finally got so thin that the wolves could find nothing but hide and bones to pick. That winter nearly cleaned the deer out. The other game did not fare so badly.