Fremont County Colorado, Early History 1864 This has been submitted by Robyn Michele Asimus. Who is the ggg-grand-daughter of John Vance Callen and Sarah Jane Moore Callen and the gg-grand-daughter of Mary Ellen Callen Coffman. Crossing The Plains in 1864 And Early History of Fremont County BY WILLIAM. H. CALLEN In the winter of 1863-’64 a party of farmers in Appanoose County, Iowa, made definite plans to go out west, knowing it to be a hazardous journey. Those men had to sell their possessions and accept a low price. For instance corn sold for 10 cents a bushel and eggs sold for 3 cents a dozen. My own father sold fat hogs for prices ranging from $2.65 to $3.65 per hundred weight. The only thing which sold for good prices were horses and oxen. Most of the men in this group had a good horse team but no work oxen. So there were oxen to buy, wagons to be fitted out with covers and other accessories, tents and log chains to be provided. In fact this party of men bought their sugar and other necessities on a cooperative plan, not forgetting to include plenty of gunpowder and gun caps. These purchases were made in Ottumwa, Iowa. But I recall father bought his flour in Nebraska City, Nebraska , and enough to last our family for a year and a half, paying $2.80 per hundred for it. This proved a very good investment in as much as flour was then selling for $24 a sack in Colorado and even as high as $26.50 a sack in the mining district. Our family consisted of father and mother John and Sarah Callen; my two sisters, Martha Jane ,14, and Mary Ellen 9, and the writer of this article William, age eleven. Our house stood close to the main highway leading through Iowa westward and oft times we had travelers over night in our home-among them several who had been to Colorado and further west. It is needless to say that I listened to these men relating their stories of adventures. The stories about the Pikes Peak region was especially interesting to me. Out that way were buffalo, deer, antelope, and the wonderful mountain sheep-many people in the middle states believing these sheep jumped from high cliffs and landed with accuracy on their horns. Oh yes, there were jack rabbits to be seen, too. So, I was elated to think I was to make the trip-for I had never been out of my home county, except over into Missouri to visit relatives. My father and mother, by the way, had migrated to Iowa from Knox County, Tennessee, in 1852, where they had been reared. After residing eleven years in this section of Iowa father had practically become an invalid, due in part to the dampness of the country. Often in hunting the livestock one had to wade through slough grass waist high. As a consequence father had chills ague. Hence, it was necessary to move to another climate for the general health of father. Well, the long-awaited day finally arrived when on May 10th our so called “train” was formed. And I was pleased to learn that I was to be allowed to ride a horse and carry a long cattle whip. My job was to help drive a herd of cattle totaling about 300 head, belonging to members of the train. All members intending to start on this trip met at the farm home of Uncle Levi Warford and here the different bunches of loose cattle were put into a common herd. My father gave me strict orders to not let any of these cattle get away, so I was kept busy-so busy, in fact, that I did not get the opportunity of bidding my grandmother, aunts and cousins, good-bye. Many of these relatives had come from different localities for the express purpose of seeing the train start. To this day I regret not saying “good-bye” to my relatives-for I never was privileged to see some of them again. On this first day we made just a short drive and went in to camp early that night, making a circle of 22 wagons. The wagons were placed close together and chains fastened between them, or boys and women guarded the “gaps”, in order to keep the cattle inside the enclosure. Some of the work oxen were young and had never been yoked together. Besides, many of the men in our outfit had never thrown or used ropes in catching cattle. So they had to resort to catching the young steers by the horns. Sometimes a “bull ring” was put in their nose and the yoke put on the “off” steer But the difficult job was to get the “nigh” steer and hold the”off : one, then get them close enough to put them together. Sometimes the first steer yoked would get loose with the yoke and become decidedly dangerous as he whirled around and swung the yoke. This had to be done twice a day- yet no casualties resulted, and before many days the oxen were “gentle”. As I lay under the new tent the first night the realization came to me that this parting with old ties, such as home, relatives and friends, was sad. I distinctly remember the chirping of a bird in a nearby lone tree mournfully calling for its mate, added to my regrets of leaving. It took us several days to reach the Missouri river and we planned on crossing at Nebraska City. But before crossing the river we were told it would be advisable to brand our cattle lest they stray and become mixed with other cattle and thus become difficult to identify. So, for a few days the train stopped and the cattle branded with a “W” mark. The cattle were caught and tied to a tree where the branding iron was applied while they were standing up. Our train moved along deliberately for no one was in a hurry. The men would hunt for game while the women washed clothes in camp. Up to the time we reached the Missouri river I had seen but one deer and Mitchell Warford had killed the only wild turkey. I remember Osborn Warford saying one day, however, at the time we were near Nebraska City, that he had seen twenty-five antelope that day. I thought that was a big bunch. One evening two strange women came to our camp leading a fine horse which had been wind broken at a prior date when the husband of one of the women had ridden it almost to death to out distance some Indians who were chasing him. This woman expressed a desire to join our crowd but said she could not, due to her husband being absent out on the plains. We became acquainted with many other emigrants and freighters bound for Denver and other points west. I recall one emigrant train in particular which I watch cross the Platte river when we were camping on its banks. The men had rigged up a raft or sort of row boat large enough to take aboard it one wagon at a time. This was used successfully in transporting all these wagons across the river. The next task was getting the cattle and horses across. Men of the other train hired John Ross and Wm. Stover of our outfit to help “swim” the cattle across. They offered father a dollar if he would help but he declined, knowing that it meant a lots of swimming under treacherous conditions. One of the men tried leading a big ox ahead of the rest to coax others to follow. This plan worked up to the place where the main current of the river was reached-then as the cattle entered the swift water they were swept downstream only to land on the some bank from which they had started. John Ross was riding a small buckskin colored pony, trying to head the cattle but the pony gave out and washed up on a sand bar nearly drowned. After Ross saw the futility of managing the oxen in mid stream he swam to an ox, got on his back and rode him to shore. One of the men from the other outfit was swept away by the swift water below the oxen tried to swim up stream and ride an ox but soon gave out and yelled for help. Fortunately a small row boat was near and he was rescued in it. Stover became surrounded by several cattle one of which pawed him under. But he bobbed up in another place, climbed on the back of a steer and rode to safety. I forget whether that other train got across then or not for we were soon making the effort for ourselves. One of the men of our group named Joseph Ryan, engaged in taking the horses across the river landed on an island and was afraid to try to cross the other half of the swift river channel. History records that this river, the Platte, was higher in this spring of 18643 than it had ever been known. Part of Denver was washed away and we could verify this fact for we saw houses that had been washed up on sandbars. It was Cherry Creek which had caused so much destruction. The Platte river was said to have been as much as three miles wide in some places. One of the group of boys driving the cattle, named Wm. Stover, quit our train and went to work for a man operating a hay ranch. This left only five of us other youngsters to do all the cattle driving. This group was composed of the following: Wm. Warford age 14; Elbert and Elbrdge Warford, twins, age 10, their cousin, Levi Warford age 8, and myself, age eleven. It is a wonder we youngsters were not killed by the Indians, for we were often two or three miles behind the train with the cattle. Whenever the cattle decided they wanted water they would go to the river in spite of us. I recall one time when we went to the river to get a drink, and found some white campers near the river-also a three year old absolutely white mule which had just died. When we were in camp at Plum Creek the Indians came to a high bluff and watched our train and another wagon train near us, but on the opposite side of Plum Creek. Heavy rain had fallen the night previously and this creek was high. The men folks tried to keep the fact that Indians were seen nearby from reaching the ears of the women and children. A man from across the creek came to the bank and yelled to us that we were liable to be attacked by the Indians and then he advised to go down the creek to a certain point where we could cross. He wanted us to join his camp and be safer. However, when we got to moving, we kept going. At this point I remember what was to me an exciting race between a jack rabbit and grey hounds, with the jack rabbit winning by jumping down a hole. Near Plum Creek only a short time prior to our camping there, a small train was nearly wiped out by the Indians. Among those killed was a Mr. Morten, who lived on the Conley place on Beaver Creek. This Conley place was afterwards known as the John C. Palmer ranch. Morten’s wife and little girl were taken prisoner by the Indians in this massacre, but Mrs. Morten was rescued later, at the battle of Sand Creek. Before starting from Iowa my father had asked an acquaintance named Daniel Sparks, who had led a group of prospectors and explorers into the mountains of Colorado, where he, Sparks, thought would be the best climate and most desirable place to locate. Sparks said to go up the Arkansas River near the mountains. Sparks had prospected on both sides of the range before Canon City ever existed. It was Spark’s advice that caused father to want to come to the Canon City area. A few of the cattle we were driving died near the Divide and also a few at Golden City. At one place near the Divide we found some hogs in a open nearly starved, the owners, we supposed , had fled suddenly to a Fort for safety. As near as Truman Blanchett (now living at the Fremont county farm in Canon City) and I can reckon the time, we crossed the Divide at the very same time he and a brother were having a fight with Indians near the Divide. In this fight one Indian was killed, another badly wounded and a young white woman wounded in the shoulder by an arrow. Blanchett has written a full account of this fight. One evening while in camp near the Divide all of the men of our train met in council, and John Osborn, the Baptist preacher, was elected captain of the train. This action was taken because members of this train thought it wise to have someone in authority to give orders in the event we were attacked by Indians. When we arrived at Colorado City we were told we could make a cut off starting at the big Fountain and then crossing the little Fountain at the Uncle George Riprogal place on Little Fountain. We had but little trouble until we came to Sand Creek or Crooked Canyon. One team came near fagging out while coming up that now abandoned road. We aimed to go by Upper Beaver but when we got to Red Creek, where afterwards was located the Wm. Tanner ranch, we camped. We sent two men over the route to Beaver Creek to investigate conditions off this route. When they came back they reported this route was impassable. After staying in camp a day our train started back to the Woodbury road traveling a road made by wood haulers. A saw mill had been erected near the Tanner place and sawed lumber was hauled to Pueblo and used in building some of the first houses in that city. This road for hauling lumber led us by what was afterwards known as the Cap. Terry place on Red Creek. Then we went down the canyon afterwards known as Rule Canyon to Turkey Creek. We camped from noon on the place afterwards known as the Rule ranch. It was on the creek bottom here that us kids driving the cows discovered a “patch” of wild currants, so we dismounted and filled up gorgeously. Just after this wholesale desertion of cattle tending, someone reported a few head of cattle missing. Naturally, the blame was placed on us for letting them get away while eating currants. Mr. David Warford had told his boy Levi to get off his horse and stop raiding the currant bushes. However, it was soon learned that the missing cattle had escaped during the previous night, due to negligence of the night herders. Mrs.Warford had come to our wagon and said: “We will make our children mind whether other people do or not”. This was said to inform father that I had escaped a deserved flogging. Father replied: “I have never given my boy any such unreasonable instructions and do not intend to”. I write this part of the story to show that parents get badly off and are sometimes unjust. When the cattle were brought back to the main herd we started (the next day) on our journey. When we came to the old Woodbury road Captain Osborn and most of the train had crossed Turkey Creek ahead of the two or three wagons that were behind. The road was very rough going through a small canyon to the Turkey Creek, when Lewis Crow could not pass. Then there was a little discussion took place, probably never known to the rest of the train. Mrs. Crow got out of their wagon and came back and said: “That outfit is following that preacher right into the mountains. Let’s go down the road and let them go”. Then pointing to part of a wagon wheel that had been broken she said: “Look! That shows the kind of road they’re taking us over”. My father said: “Yes, I know; but when we started from Iowa we took a pledge to stay together and if necessary fight and die together. I think we could get through and that the rest of the train could make it but we might not and I intend to keep my pledge”. We did not get to Beaver Creek until after dark but a corral was formed of wagons where the Glendale stone house, now occupied by H. B. Quimby, now stands. The next day, the 13th of August, we camped where part of Canon City now is, our corral being formed around a small adobe hut near where Bates Hall was afterwards built. The first visitors to our camp and train were Uncle Anson Rudd and Jesse Kelley. Anson Rudd was my wife’s uncle, and at that time Anson Jr. was about two years old. Others composing the whole population of that area, included: Wm. Felix Burdett, and Mrs. Jenkins and two daughters. Mr. Jenkins was absent and working in the mines at the time. Mrs. Jenkins was keeping a tavern for the few people traveling this section. There were other families that had gone to the mines who returned to Canon City vicinity later. Other of the inhabitants of this area had enlisted for the war. Uncle Anson Rudd had been left in charge of the vacant houses and kindly let our train move in. I had not slept in a house for three months so I really enjoyed sleeping in a house, appreciating the cool shade and away from the hot sun. There were quite a number of from, stone and log houses in Canon City. Some of them were full of bullet holes made, so it was said, by soldiers of the Union army, shooting at rebels, supposedly hiding in them. I can only recognize one building now that was standing then. It was at one time occupied as a store by Webb and Thurman; then later by Rudd & Thurman. It is used now as a steam laundry. In the days it was thought unwise and unsafe to winter in the mining districts of high altitude as the snow fell to such depths. But that fear passed and the miners began staying in their camps all winter. Cattle were driven to the valley from South Park. Samuel Hatsel kept his cattle on Beaver for a few winters. Mr. Switzer, George Green, Henry Bumback and others moved their cattle to the valley in the fall and back to South Park in the Spring. W.N. Byers, the man who started the Rocky Mountain News, kept his cattle on Currant Creek the summer of 1864. Early in the fall of that year J.E. McClure, Jesse Kelley, Wm. , Jno. Crow and a man whose name I forgotten, helped Byers move his cattle from Currant Creek or near Jimey’s camp east of Colorado Springs. Kelley and Warford stayed with the cattle until a big snow fell early in the winter and most of the cattle drifted to lower country around the Fountain. Jesse Kelley who looked after the cattle that winter said some of the cattle drifted to Pueblo and that most of the Fountain Creek country was at that time rather open, with grease brush, sun flowers and weeds being abundant. The cattle wintered through in fine shape. J.E. McClure bought a cow from Byers and was on his road to either the Jimey camp or Byers camp to get the cow and when he stopped at the Riprogal place on Little Fountain, the big snow fell. A Mr. Priest, father of the late Henry Priest, lied at the Riprogal ranch and when Mr. McClure spoke of going on to the Byers Camp, Priest and a deputy sheriff who had captured two horse thieves and were staying at Priest’s, said to: “We know the country well but would not attempt going to Colorado City today”. But McClure started for the Byers Camp. He failed to get there, the snow being too deep. had to keep walking all night long to keep from freezing. He met Wm. Warford and Jesse Kelley some time in the morning. He found his cow which had a young calf too feeble to travel, so he carried it on his horse, named “Comet”. McClure had run a big risk to get the cow but he was a man that did not like to stop or turn back after starting. We will illitrate ths characteristic trait in the following account of a long, tedious and dangerous ride chasing Mexican horsethieves in the winter of 1866. In the winter of 1866 or 1867 two Mexicans left a couple of their saddle ponies in Uncle Jessie Frazier’s stock field and stole 8 or 10 head of horses and mules. Two mules stolen belonged to W.A. Warford, two horses to I.W. Chatfield and some of the horses to Tom Verden, I think. When it was learned that this considerable bunch of livestock were stolen a fair sized group of men started in pursuit. Most of them quit the trail after a little while except J.E. McClure, I.W. Chatfield and a man by the name of Phelps or Filch. The thieves had taken a rough course over the mountains at one place and at one spot had gone over an icy spot that none of the pursuers could go over with their horses, except Tom Verden’s horse. But the others found a way around, so continued following the thieves through to Dick Tobin’s place in the San Luis Valley. At this place McClure, Chatfield and Phelps stayed in a house-the only time they slept in a house on the trip of a week or two week’s duration. McClure said it was easy to follow the trail of the thieves as the stolen horses and mules were shod. In those days but few horses were shod. One night as the trio of thief-chasers were stopped to rest themselves and their mounts, they saw a camp fire. Thinking it might be the very thieves whom they were chasing, they proceeded on foot to find out. McClure said they encountered a deep ravine and had to go quite a distance to get around it. When they crept up near enough to the camp fire they found a band of sheep, and a lone Mexican herder. They asked him if he had seen any one driving a bunch of horses. He told them he had seen caviyas running. Although it was moonlight McClure, Chatfield and Phelps failed to get back to their saddles until day light. Chatfield and Phelps had been wanting to give up the hunt and go back, but McClure prevailed in getting them to continue the pursuit. Finally one day, he said, that he was in the lead, as usual, when he looked back and saw Chatfield and Phelps motining for him to come back. He rode back quite disgusted and determined on a short speech to make to his two friends-when they told him there was no use trying to overtake the thieves. McClure told them in no uncertain tone, this: “We have found the camp fires of the thieves still buring. We are sure we will be unable to find anything to eat for several days if we go back now. We stand a much better chance of obtaining food by following the theives. am NOT going back and I am not going ahead alone. I have been looking for somebody to fight and I’ll certainly fight you two fellows unless you go with me.” McClure further said: “I don’t exactly blame Phelps for not wanting to go ahead for he has no horses in the stolen herd-but it is folly to go back with such slight prospects of getting anything to eat”.. In a short time this trio of thief chasers were lucky enough to come upon a Mexican sheep here from whom they obtained the hindquarter of a small mutton. This they proceeded to roast and eat without salt. At this time the three men talked over the advisability of continuing the chase and agreeing that if they did not overtake the horse thieves in another day, they would quit the chase. Luck was with them, for McClure found a man who agreed not only to furnish a fresh horse for McClure but to accompany him-upon being promised his choice of picking one of the best horses from the stolen herd if and when such horses were recovered. I think it was the next morning when our good friend McClure and this new man had sort of wandered off their intended route to look at some horses and were returning to take the trail of the stolen horses when they came face to face with the Mexican thieves and the stolen herd of horses. McClure’s first move was to reach for his pistol, but the man with him cautioned him not to commence action, pointing out that it was a fifty-fifty game-with an even chance of being killed as of killing the enemy. He advised getting the help of another man he knew, living down on a creek. After they had decided on this course, they pretended, upon talking to the Mexican horse thieves, that they were in search of government cattle. After McClure and his man had ridden out of sight of the Mexican thieves they struck a fast lope and continued this a distance of five miles before reaching the home of the third man. This new man agreed to go with them and in as much as he had been a guerrilla with the notorious Quantrill of Missouri he proved to be a valuable asset and immediately formed a plan of attack. He proposed to stealthily approach the Mexicans, then charge upon them at full speed. This was done. The first hired man of McCLure’s, however, failed to contact with the enemy at the same time as his two friends due to his horse fagging out. The old Quantrilllian, however, charged the Mexicans and bellowed out: “Surrender, you damn thieves.” The Mexican thieves were lying on the ground but commenced shooting from a kneeling position. McClure, in relating this story to me, said: “I know I shot the smaller Mexican through the head the first shot fired.” The big Mexican emptied one pistol at us and was shooting his second pistol at us, when he was fatally wounded. This Mexican had placed some effective shots, having shot the horse from under Quantrill’s man and putting some bullet holes through McClure’s clothes. This fatally wounded big Mexican made his way to a spot where a pine tree had fallen over, and leaned against the roots of the tree. In this position he was again shot, and fell down dead in the hole make by the uprooted tree. The dead Mexican horse thieves were left where they had fallen and the two men McClure had hired, rode to a Mexican justice of pace and told him what they had done. That individual accompanied the two white men to the scene of the shooting the next morning. He told McClure and his two helpers to take their horses but nothing more. The Mexicans had already traded some of the horses for dry good. McClure gave his Quantrilian assistant a horse to replace the one that had been killed by the Mexican thief. Chatfield and Phelps had followed the trail to where the Mexicans had traded some of the horses for dry goods. There was plenty of horse stealing in those early days and many thieves apprehended were hung. Jails were few, an those in existence were often not substantial enough to hold the inmates. Referring to my story of a few weeks ago relative to the Mexican horse thieves, I might state here that the time when McCLure, Chatfield and Phelps chased them, was two and a half years after our emigrant train had been in Fremont county. Osborn and W.A. Warford had farmed two seasons in what was then called Frazierville. McClure and wife were visiting Mrs. McClure’s brother Osborn Warford at the time the horses and mules were stolen. The members of our train, for the most part, rented land in Frazierville. W.A. Warford homesteaded 160 acres of land adjoining Canon City. David Warford moved on a claim on Four Mile, and homesteaded it. I think the farm is owned and used by the County Poor Farm. Warford sold the land to Jesse Raider, who sold it to Fremont county. I will now give the names of members of our train: Levi and Levica Warfrod, father and mother of W.A., David and Oborn Warford, Mrs. J.E. McClure and Mrs. Joseph Ryan (Martha and Juda Ellen) all daughters of Levi and Levica Warfrod, W.H. McClure, James E. McClure, Louis and William Crow and families, John Crow (_ingle), Ira Porter, wife and little daughter, now Mrs. Emmet Jennings of California; James Willett, wife and baby son; Mitchel Warford, wife and four sons and a daughter, Mary; Robert and Betty Davis and son; Henry and wife; John V. Callen and wife Sarah, Martha J., Mary E., and Wm. H. Callen; S.H. Callen and wife. James P. were buried in 1863 and a man whose name I forget- but who was accidentally killed when his revolver fell from his pocket on a back oven lid in 1860, discharging the gun, and the bullet instantly killing him. It had been a sort of humorous saying among the early settlers that in order to start a graveyard some one would have to kill himself. Mr. Bruce was the first victim of the Espinosa murderers...H. Harkens, for which Dead Man’s Canyon was named, was the second victim killed by the Espinoas (sic). J.V. Callen and family were the only ones on our train to sell on Beaver Creek in the fall of 1864. At that time none of Fremont county had been surveyed. Beaver Creek had the greatest number of farms and farmers. James Henderson owned the claim which John C. McClure bought at the sale after Henderson was killed in the early fall of 1865 by a bear. Frances Wilks owned the Callen farm and claim; Robert Johnson owned the next claim below the Callen claim and John Pierce’s place joined Johnsons’; then in succession, the Conley and Pete Baldif Claims, the Alfred and George Toof claims. Some farming had been done on Upper Beaver but I have forgotten the names. A Mr. Foster did some farming on Upper Beaver and also operated a saw mill there in 1866. Daniel Simpson and wife were also farming there in 1866. The Warfrod and Cro_s Families and James E. McClure families, and others, totaling thirteen families, moved back to Missouri, settling tin Bates and Johnson counties in 1867. In those counties they bought farms and became permanent residents. These thirteen families on their trip from Colorado to Missouri were accompanied by some fifty soldiers. “Uncle” Robert Davis, while on this trip had a close call when he had strayed a short distance from the train and an Indian tried to rope him. A boy named William Warford saw the Indian getting ready to lasso Davis and tried his best to yell out a warning, but his voice failed to carry well. David Warford, however, being close to the boy William, heard him, saw the Indian about to rope old man Davis so used his strong voice yelling loudly to Davis-and Davis was hard-of-hearing, too. The men of the train and soldiers immediately fired at the Indians, who had begun to circle the emigrant train. But so far as known not an Indian was even crippled or killed. David Warford in relating this Indian raid said there was a white pony that ran so much faster that the rest of the Indians ponies, that his brother exclaimed, “Look at that white pony.” And they admired this animal so much no one shot at it! The whole fracas proved to be a bloodless one for both whites and Indians. In explanation as to why no Indian was killed I might say that they kept too far distant for the muzzle loading rifle bullets to carry. At one point on the trip back to Missouri this group found a spot showing ashes of burnt wagons, and nearby a dead white man, who had been scalped. They buried the man. I visited most of the families of that train in 1876 back in Missouri and was told the foregoing account that I just related. In the summer of 1864 a raid was made by the stage robbers and murderers, who were afterwards captured and shot. Jesse Kelley carried the U.S. Mail in the summer of 1864 on mule back between Pueblo and Fairplay. At one time Kelley and James A. McCandless made a long lonesome night ride together from Fairplay to Canon City to avoid contact with robbers. One time when Kelley was carrying mail from Fairplay to Pueblo he happened to see a group of men congregated in Eight Mile Park, so went to see who they were and what they were doing. The group of men had stopped a man named Burr whom they suspected of being one of a gang robbers. They were indeed about in the notion of pulling Burr up to a cottonwood tree. Kelley interfered and advised the men they were about to hang an innocent man, in his (Kelley’s) opinion. Kelley cited his reasons for his belief, which were strong enough to cause the group to turn Burr loose. Ever afterwards Kelley had Burr as one true friend. Circumstances afterward went to substantiate Kelley’s plea that Burr was innocent. Jesse Kelley’s account of mail carrying by mule back showed that it was no pleasant pastime. Grain and hay were too scarce and high to fee d the mules. Kelley had to turn the mule he rode from “39 Mile Station” loose at canon City. After hunting up the mule he rode to Pueblo and back to Canon City. I think this ordeal was repeated at 39-Mile Ranch. That winter Kelley got a better job riding for W.N. Byers of which I have told about in a former account. ------------------------------------------------------- Contributed for use by the USGenWeb Project (http://www.usgenweb.org) Archives and by the COGenWeb Project Archives (http://www.usgwarchives.net/co/cofiles.htm) USGenWeb Project NOTICE: In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the internet, data may be used by non-commercial researchers, as long as this message remains on all copied material. These electronic pages may not be reproduced in any format for profit, nor for presentation in any form by any other organization or individual. 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