FAMILY HISTORY: POETRY Collection written by Elsie Strawn ARMSTRONG File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Les Howard Strawn Copyright 2006. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/somerset/ ________________________________________________ CHAPTER FOURTEENTH Twenty-nine years ago This country it was new, And mills were very scarce then, You may believe it's true. Two of my little boys Went one hundred miles or more, To grind upon a horse mill With our horses four. And the labor and the strange work, Of grinding that first bread, Caused the finest horse we had To kill itself dead. The labor was so hard, And so unusual was the noise, She never heard the like Till she came to Illinois. And when they paid their quarter For every bushel ground, And were ready to come home, Their horse lay dead upon the ground. Then one of my little boys Came back all of that long road, To get another horse to go And help haul home the load. We had all the fever and ague The first year we came, And the next year had to fort, And we were discouraged some. My sons had just commenced To work on the plantation, When the hostile Indians Commenced their depredation. Some were breaking up the prairie, Some planting corn and beans, Some sowing oats and timothy, Some harrowing were seen. But here I would something say, Of that memorable day, When Squire Cloud came to warn us From our home to go away. I saw him at a distance, When he was far away, A coming very fast Upon his horse of gray. And as he drew nearer he called, And beckoned to my sons To leave their field and business, And to that house to come. So they all came a running To hear what was the matter, He said the hostile Indians had Commenced an awful slaughter. He drew a paper from his pocket, And from that paper read How many that had slaughtered How many there were dead. Likewise the devastation, The houses they burned down, The whites that they had scalped Before they could get to town. He said, "Will you send a son, With this express below, In order to inform them, And let the people know. The signs of the times, And warn them of their danger, For fear that they may fall In the hands of hostile strangers." My third son, William, took the paper, And started off below On the swiftest horse we had, As fast as he could go. He said to me, "Be fixing And coming up to town, For the people's all collecting there For to defend that ground." I said, "'Twould be bad policy The enemy to meet, If I must leave my home I'd from the enemy retreat. He said to my second son, "You must come to town this night With your gun and ammunition And be ready for to fight." They brought the teams from the field, And to the wagon hitched four yoke, And drove up to the house, And then no ground they broke. The fourth little son said, "We had best not go away, For if we go we'll starve to death, We'd best mind our work and stay." He was very much excited And did earnestly examine, If it would not be as well To die by the sword as famine. But I thought it was not safe For us to longer stay, We would have to leave our home But not to go away. Of that unexpected moving He seems to have some warning, While making up the fire Early in the morning. He said, "I've just been dreaming We had to go away, And I was much displeased And would much rather stay." Then William spoke and said, "Such a dream I would not tell, For we have now got settled And things are going well." It was scarcely two o'clock Upon that very day, When we had gathered up And were upon the way. Almost as soon as started A little one did say, "Where are we a going? Are we going far away?" "To which uncle's are we going? Now I would like to know, Or going back to grandpa's, Away to Ohio?" I thought I would keep silent, From Joel I wished to hear, He was so loath to leave And starvation seemed to fear, "We'll go till out of danger And not go one rod further, And soon as e'er we may be safe, Come home and work away." Now, Joel, you have said it, It is hard for us to leave, It might be worse for us to stay, And it is no use to grieve. Washington assisted us Until we got away, Then he runs himself some bullets, Then he gathered up the tools, Hid them under the floor, Put the things to rights, And fastened up the door. And when he had got started, He went to town that night, With his gun and ammunition, To be ready for a fight. We had a famous pig, His name was Tommy Tarter, We fed him corn and milk, And it made him grow the larger. If Tommy had have known When we were going away, He would have come along, And that, without delay. If we had thought to call him, He knew his name so well, He would have come upon the jump, Answering well, as he could tell. He was a pet that we had bought, And he seemed to like the dog, He was fond of our company But greatly feared a hog. He would have weighed two hundred, When he followed off the host, Away down to Magnolia, And of him, there they made a roast. The small ones drove the cattle, And the fourth one drove the team, And I the mare and colt, that Would not much trouble seem. But the colt was very young And that mare was very cross, And I was riding upon The good old Charley horse. Of times she would come at us Showing her ivory, and would leer, I thought it did enrage her For the horse to come so near. But I had a good large rosinweed More that six feet in length, And with it I did strike her, And that will all my strength. And then she'd turn and walk a piece, She seemed to fear my weed, And to be civil she seemed to be agreed, And then she'd stop and feed. And when we would come near, She threatened to upset us, And kick us over, clear, And that did much distress us. When we came to the bluff We found it very steep, For then there was no road For anyone to keep. My son then spoke and said, "We will have to change the yoke, For the one that's on the tongue Is already nearly broke." So he turned the oxen loose, And they ran about to feed, Then for to be caught again, They did not seem agreed. At length we did succeed, And the oxen yoked again, And a pair to the hind axle To hold back he then did chain. And so he started on, Nearly perpendicular down, And a key came out the bow And let the near ox go. But we were nearly down When the ox walked up the river, But he was not hard to catch And behaved himself quite clever. Then he geared the Charley horse, And hitched him on before, And he rode on the horse And I sat in before. And so we started on, But the Ohio wagon bed, Because it was not chained, It soon began to spread. Jolting among the rocks I saw a plate roll out, Then to chop a piece of bed cord I turned myself about. While chopping off the bed cord, I thought it would turn over, I turned and saw two yoke A traveling down the river. And the boy was on the horse, Away out in the river, And we were going down the stream Faster then than ever. But then I called aloud And the boy saw our condition, And then it took some time For him to change position. [Note from the contributor: THIS PAGE IS MISSING! Killed by the Indians or Washed down the river? Which will it be? Proceed to the next page And there you shall see! (lhs-8nov2006)] And they gave them that provision That they did take away, To prepare it for themselves While it lasted, day-by-day. The young ladies, very handsome, One had an extra suit of hair; A chief's son thought to marry her, For she was very fair. An Indian in authority Resolved to have her hair, But the one that thought to marry her Did warmly interfere. They were about to have a combat Upon that very day that The young ladies were redeemed, And so they came away. Our authorities did purchase them, With horses from the train, Their brother John went for them, And brought them home again. They are living in this county, And both a-living still, Both a Rachel Hall and Sylvia, Not far from Munson's Mill. They both long since were married, And families they have raised, As wealthy and respectable As any in those days. I had but a boy of seven To help in these days, And a little girl of eight I had taken then to raise. And they drove up the horses And I caught one for me to ride, But when I found my saddle, There was nothing to be tied. I chopped of a piece of bed cord To tie around my saddle, While those little boys Were starting off the cattle. I stood my son upon a stump, And from the stump, I mounted on, And in the act of stooping To the stump to take my son, I turned the saddle off, For it was so badly tied, And I had to scrabble hard To keep on the upper side. And I rode off through the ravines And gullies with my child, Over hills and through the hollows, All of three long miles. When I came to Squire Seeley's I was still sitting on the flap; He came out to help me down, With my son upon my lap. And when he took my child And I lit upon the ground, My saddle turned clear under, With the seat toward the ground. He exclaimed, "Oh! My God! How did you ride one rod? I wonder you aren't dead, Both you and your child," he said. My second and my fourth son Had gone home to break again, But when they heard our neighbors On the north so many slain, They thought it was bad policy To longer there remain; The oldest took his firelock And went to town again. Because he was requested At night to come to town; The fourth one took the team And to us was coming down, When he crossed the big Vermillion, To the wagon hitched the team, And came to Squire Seeley's and To go, on did anxious seem. I said, "My son, impossible, We can't get there tonight, But tomorrow we will start As soon as it is light." He said, "O, mother, come, To uncle's we will go." And so we started off, For he importuned me so. But when we went five miles, Discouraged was the child, When it began to rain he said, "We must go back again." When walking by the team He suddenly called "Whoa," And from the oxen's necks The yokes he quick did throw, And turned toward the point, And nimbly, he did go, Saying, "Mother, do not scold me, Again, I'll not do so." "I will mind what you say, Though I have done wrong today," No milking then was done, But we turned and traveled on. One child upon my lap and Two more stayed on behind, And we turned toward the point, Squire Seeley's house again. Early the next morning We all set out again To cross that wide prairie, And that day fell no rain. When we came to the wagon, The cattle all in sight, The poor dog came to meet us, And he'd not been fed one bite. He, of course, was nearly famished, And appeared in wretched plight, For he'd been guarding the wagon For three long day and nights. The boy spoke to the dog and said, "Watch, you shan't be killed, When you get old, you shall be honored Because you're so well willed." I alighted on the wagon tongue, Stepped up and chopped some meat And gave it to the dog, And to him it was a treat. Then I milked lots of milk, We drank what we thought best, And to that extra dog, I freely gave the rest. His hind feet and his fore feet Stood farther then apart, And his back was straightened out And he seemed in better heart. The ponds were full of water, The sloughs were soft and deep, But still towards the West We strove, our course to keep. We traveled round the ponds Just as we saw it best, Sometimes went north, sometimes south, But our aim was to the West. I rode before on horseback To find the firmest ground, And motioned to my son Which way to come around. The wind blew cold and bleak, But the weather, it was clear, We could see all around The prairie, far and near. The distance, fourteen miles By the sections, brother said, But we traveled more than twenty Before his home we made. It was more than two o'clock When we got into port, And in a few days after We helped to build a fort.