McDonough County IL Archives History - Books .....The Lost Child, Chapter IV 1878
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Book Title: History Of McDonough County

CHAPTER IV.
THE LOST CHILD.

  The incidents related in the following story will readily be recalled to mind
by every old settler of the county. This story was first published in the Macomb
Journal, January, 1874, and was written by Miss Imogene Updegraff, daughter of
Joseph P. Updegraff, of Macomb, the facts being furnished by the latter. The
article was read with the greatest interest, and a demand made that we give it
permanent form in this history:

  One Sunday afternoon, in August, 1834, two of the older sons of Ephraim
Palmer, living near the line separating Walnut Grove from Macomb township, with
several of the younger children, went out to obtain some melons, growing a short
distance from the house. After obtaining all they desired, they returned, and as
they neared the house, the mother came out to meet them, and anxiously inquired:

  "Jonathan, where is Willie? Didn't he go with you?"

  "Couldn't say, mother; there's always so many of the small fry at my heels
that I don't stop to count them."

  "Jonathan, my son, you shouldn't speak so. What if Willie should be lost?"

  "No danger, mother; he'll turn up soon enough."

  But the heart of the mother was not to be comforted in such a way. She was in
constant dread of some of her little ones wandering away and being lost, and
possibly being devoured by wolves, which infested the country at the time.

  After looking around for some time, Mrs. Palmer again expressed her anxiety by
saying:

  "Jonathan, I am sure Willie did go to the patch with you. I have looked
everywhere, and cannot find him."

  The father, just aroused from a nap, said:

  "Come, boys, let's return to the patch. I have no fears the little one is
lost, but it will relieve the anxiety of your mother."

  Back to the patch they went, but no traces of the child could be found, and
they returned to the house, trusting to find him there. But not so. The family
were now fully aroused and feared the worst. They searched in the corn, on the
prairie near the field, and through the timber, but still no trace of the lost one.

  Night coming on, the mother's anxiety knew no bounds, and as the hours passed,
she would cry out again and again:

  "O my child! My precious Willie! Where is he? Have the wolves torn him to
pieces? Has my little boy been drowned? Go look for him again! My God, I shall
go wild!"

  Palmer and his sons continued looking for the child until morning, but
becoming convinced it was useless to pursue the search alone, the boys started
with all speed to the nearest settlement for help. Levi Hamilton was the nearest
neighbor, and he lived three miles away. Quite a number volunteered in the
search from Macomb, among whom were Col. William Bailey, J. M. Campbell, James
Clarke, David Clarke, J. L. Russell, J. W. Westfall, Thompson Chandler, Charles
Chandler, J. L. Anderson, J. P. Updegraff, and it may be others. Some went from
Job's settlement, Carter's settlement, and other points. Col. William Bailey was
selected as leader, and search was begun in a very thorough and systematic
manner. A critical survey of the field was made; not a corn row or fence corner
escaped unnoticed. Not even a track was found to keep alive the fast fading hope
that had been so bright a little while before. The prairie south of the field
was next traversed, and then the timber, and at night the party returned with no
tidings of the lost child.

  Tuesday morning dawned bright and beautiful. Ere this the tidings of a "lost
child" had reached the most distant settlements, and many came to assist in the
search, even from Schuyler and Fulton counties. The sad tidings were carried
from cabin to cabin, until the whole community was aroused.

  On the second day, there being a greater number of men, longer lines were
formed, and they were thus enabled to traverse a larger scope of country than on
the day previous.

  The interest taken in the search was unparalleled. The disappearance of the
child was so mysterious, and apparently beyond solution, that great interest was
awakened.  On this day the prairie was scoured as far south as Wolf Grove, and
also a large body of timber following the course of Crooked Creek.

  As the day wore on, many became discouraged and gave up the search, and when
darkness surrounded them the entire party was nearly hopeless. Again they were
compelled to report no tidings of the loved and lost.

  Only one section of the country now remained to be searched, and those who
still cherished a faint hope determined to come again on the morrow and spend
one more day in quest of the child.

  Another long night of suspense, and then—who could tell what the day would
bring forth?

  Wednesday morning found the disappearance of the child still an unsolved
mystery. Three nights of ceaseless restlessness, and days of suspense and
hopeless agony, left the mother in a dangerous condition. Completely exhausted,
both in mind and body, she lay unconscious of everything, save the loss of her
child. Hours of weeping and prayer had prostrated the over-taxed nervous system,
and the only sign of consciousness was her frequent moanings. The other members
of the family were worn out. Their aching limbs refused to longer carry their
tired bodies, and they were denied even the poor relief of action.

  All day Wednesday the search was renewed. Night came on, and yet the mystery
of the little one seemed no nearer a solution than when the day's work began.
The faithful friends now despaired of finding the child alive. A few men agreed
to come the next day and help those who were still sanguine of success to
explore the country farther down the creek.

  Thursday, the fourth and last day of the search, was a beautiful one indeed.
With the morning came the friends who were to make one last desperate effort to
obtain some clue to the child's fate.

  Palmer and his sons had taken some rest, and early in the morning were on
their feet ready to resume the search.

  The company organized in two parties, one going south to strike Crooked Creek
at Wolf Grove and work up stream, the other commenced among the head waters,
where darkness had compelled them to stop the night before.

  Before night they hoped to search the entire length of the stream, searching
all the branches and country on either side, unless it be rendered unnecessary
by finding some traces of the lost one. In this way they worked all forenoon
without finding anything to reward their labor, and some were ready to give up;
but when word was brought to them that the mother's life seemed to depend
entirely on the return of her child, they were touched with her utter
helplessness, and feared to abandon the search lest despair should snap the
frail link that held her soul to earth. So they worked on, some still eager to
be the lucky one to discover the boy.

  About the middle of the afternoon, when the two parties had advanced to within
a mile of each other, Crosby Bowman, one of the men, working down stream, espied
something in the mud that looked like the print of a little bare foot; but it
was so nearly obliterated by the washing of the water that he could not be at
all certain. He looked farther up the bank in hope of finding tracks that the
water had not reached, but not the slightest impression was to be seen.

  Passing the word along the line—"look closely along the banks, a track has
been seen"—they advanced in the direction indicated by the foot mark. Some yards
from the first impression another was seen, and presently another, until the men
were half wild with joy and excitement. They followed the trail backward until
convinced that there could be no mistake; then turned back to where it led
directly into the stream. The water was waded out to the middle of the creek and
measured. The depth turned their joy to sadness, for it would reach the boy's
chin; and now they felt sure that he had been drowned in attempting to cross. A
runner was sent to the other party, and all began the sad task of dragging the
creek for the body of the brave boy.

  The poor father and sons could work no longer. Now that hope was dead, their
strength forsook them and they could only wait for their friends to recover the
body.

  "Hold!" cried one. As they worked near the opposite bank other foot-prints
were seen. Could it be that the child crossed the deep water in safety? Yes, it
was a trail. Filled with joy and surprise, they left the water and turned to the
land. Father and brothers were strong once more and led the way. The trail
followed the creek for some distance, then struck out into the bushes. North of
the creek, some two or three miles from Walnut Grove, was a blackberry region,
and the trail led through the thickest places. It was wonderful to think a
little child could make his way through the dense thickets without being sadly
torn by the briers. The path of the little bare feet was very crooked, going
this way and that, in and out, back and forth, after every ripe I berry the
hungry little fellow had espied. The berries were all gone along the trail, and
it was very evident the venturesome rogue had been having a blackberry excursion
on his own hook. But as they left the bushes the trail grew indistinct and then
stopped. They pressed forward with all possible speed, at the same time
proceeding cautiously for fear of frightening the child. Some who had been
through all the four days were still eager to be first in catching a glimpse of
the boy. They worked on until about a half mile from the creek, when Henry
Russell, one of the party, peering through the bushes, spied something in the
distance dodging about from bush to bush. He looked again and this time got a
full view of the long-sought-for child, standing up by a bush eating berries.
Word went along the line:

  "Silence, the boy has been seen."

  They crept up noiselessly, but when quite near, the boy saw them and started
to run.

  George Miller advanced toward the child and held out a biscuit. He evidently
regarded them at first sight as something frightful, and showed signs of having
forgotten his past life, and of having become a child of the woods. Miller
advanced slowly, saying:

  "Willie, don't you want a biscuit? Don't Willie want to go home and see mamma?"

  The child eyed him curiously as if trying to tell what he meant, but seeing
the biscuit, came slowly forward, as if afraid, and when near enough snatched
the bread, ran back a little way, stopped and ate it as if half starved. They
let him finish the biscuit, then coaxed him nearer, and finally one of them
lifted him up to Miller, who had mounted his horse. The little fellow did not
like that, however. As he had got to be quite a pedestrian he seemed to prefer
walking. He kicked and screamed, and seemed for the first time to remember that
he could talk a little. They had hard work to pacify him, but finally he gave
up, and they started homeward.

  The father and boys were not in the line when the boy was found, but had gone
back to the creek to follow up the trail once more.

  Word was sent to them, and when they came up with the returning party, the
child knew them, and they were so overjoyed that they laughed and cried by turns.

  As they returned home, they all concluded that when the other children left
the watermelon patch, Willie had either lagged behind, or went back after
another melon, and, missing his way, started out in the direction of the prairie
instead of the cabin, wandered out across the prairie toward the northeast,
crossed the creek, and tarried among the blackberries.

  They found where he had slept in an old stump, with sprouts; grown up all
around it, forming a kind of shelter.

  From the way the grass was tramped, they were led to believe that he had slept
there several times and used, it for a place of retreat.

  He did not seem to have worried about being away from home, but apparently had
been having a general good time, eating berries and sleeping in an old tree.

  Several had gone on ahead to prepare the mother for the coming of her child.
Among them was the Rev. William J. Frazier, and to him fell the delicate task of
breaking the news to the almost lifeless woman. He entered the cabin and
approached the bed on which the poor woman lay. He spoke to her, asking if she
felt better. A moan was her only answer.

  "My good woman," said the minister, "you ought not to grieve in this way.
Wouldn't you feel better to sit up a little?"

"No, no," came feebly from her lips.

  "My dear friend," said he, "God is good—"

  At that she started up with glaring eyes, and cried:

  "What do you mean, man, by telling me that God is good, when he has taken my
Willie away."

  "My good woman calm yourself; God is good to those—"

  "Hush," she cried, springing from the bed, "I don't believe it, or he would
have answered my prayers and brought my darling back."

  "What if he should bring Willie back, would your prayers be answered then?"
said the good man. She sank back on the bed sobbing. "Then they have found him
dead. My Willie dead?"

  " Dear friend, what if the good Lord should bring him back alive?"

  She started to her feet, seized hold of the minister, and said hoarsely:

  "Speak out, man. "What do you mean? Don't torture me longer. Tell me, tell me!
have they found him?"

  "Yes," said the minister, "they have found him safe and well."

  She sank at the man's feet in a swoon. They soon restored her to
consciousness, and the party came in with the child. She caught him in her arms,
sobbing:

  "Oh, Willie, my darling boy! Safe, safe at last! Don't Willie know mamma?"
smiling through her tears.

  "Yes, I know mamma," lisped the child. And the poor woman exhausted herself
with joy as she had done with grief. Father, brothers and friends stood around
laughing and crying for joy. It was almost night, and the rescuers returned to
their homes with a thousand thanks from the happy family, and what was still
better with the consciousness of having done their whole duty.

  The young men who then took part in the search, are now old or have passed
from earth. Forty years rolls around and scarcely any of those so full of life
and the love of adventure are left to tell the tale. Then they were full of hope
and promise; now only one here and there is left to tell us of pioneer life in
times long gone by.


Additional Comments:

Extracted from:

HISTORY OF MCDONOUGH COUNTY ILLINOIS,
ITS CITIES, TOWNS AND VILLAGES, EARLY REMINISCENCES, PERSONAL INCIDENTS AND
ANECDOTES,

AND A COMPLETE BUSINESS DIRECTORY OF THE COUNTY.
By S. J. CLARKE.

SPRINGFIELD, ILL.:
D. W. LUSK, STATE PRINTER AND BINDER.
1878.


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