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 NINETEENTH
  
  Brother Jacob came for Morgan,
      This country to be viewing,
  Brought me some of my money,
      And to see what we were doing.
  
  We were breaking with four horses
      And trying to do some good,
  Then they bought a lot of oxen,
      That brake, the more, they could.
  
  William Carr and Jacob
      Were going up the river,
  And I thought it was my chance
      Then to go with my brother;
  
  As I wished to have his judgment
      In selecting me a claim,
  For a home was then my object,    
      And to find a claim, my aim.
         
  And so we all set out
      And traveled up the river,
  William Carr, myself, 
      James Chalfant and my brother.
  
  When we came to Jeremiah's
      He agreed with us to ride,
  And so we traveled on,
      Rode mostly side-by-side.
  
  When we came to big Vermillion
      We found it rather high,
  Jeremiah, he rode into it,
      That way its depths to try.
  
  We saw it would not swim,
      But it came rather high,
  I thought I had good company,
      Or I would have been rather shy.
  
  I was not willing to go back,
      For I wished to go along,
  My horse was very good,
      And also large and strong.
  
  Jacob placed me close above him,
      And the inside reins did clinch
  To keep our horses close together
      So in that they might not flinch.
  
  William Carr rode still above me,
      Close at my right hand,
  And so we all got through,
      And all got safe to land.
  
  Vermillion River rocky,
      The current swift and strong,
  There was no particular ford then,
      People crossed it all along.
  
  To hunt a claim we rode five days,
      On both sides of the river,
  To find a claim then was my aim,
      My sons might all think clever.
  
  When we came to mouth of the Fox,
      We did all on horseback ride,
  We crossed the river in a canoe,
      And swam the horses by the side.
  
  And when we came in sight,
      Brother Jacob spoke and said,
  "Here's the making of a place,
      Here a town will go ahead.
  
  "For nature has designed
      This place to make a town,
  Like Pittsburgh and like Zanesville,
      And other places round."
  
  That fine old Doctor Walker
      Sent me first in the canoe,
  For fear the horses might make trouble,
      And then I'd not know what to do.
  
  But after we go over,
      And all was got across,
  I climbed upon the cornfield fence
      Again to mount my horse.
  
  The Reverend Jesse Walker,
      He'd raised of corn a crop,
  Where his nephew, David Walker,
      Now doth keep his shop.
  
  When we left the mouth of the Fox,
      We went a northwest course,
  The nearer to the bluff
      We found the going worse.
  
  From fetlock to the girth,
      Mud and water we splashed though,
  Still fearing we'd be mired,
      For it seemed all a slough.
  
  Brother Jacob spoke to me,
      "Shall we here sink out of sight,
  While Jeremiah's riding yonder
      And seems to go it right,
  
  On his flat footed mare,
      Why, she seems to walk the sod,
  Where our horses here are
      Floundering in the mud."
  
  When he first came to the state,
      From his horses took their shoes,
  And their hoofs grew large and flat,
      And they learned to walk through sloughs.
  
  And we had lately come,
      And our horses all sharp shod,
  And in struggling through the mud
      Struck their feet through the sod.
  
  But now it's fixed with sowers,
      And covered with the town,
  And little mud and water,
      In this city, now are found.
  
  They say about nine thousand
      Of inhabitants are here,
  A promising improvement
      For less than thirty years.
  
  When we were in the bottom
      The mud and water tried us,
  But when we came on the bluff,
      The wind and sun soon dried us.
  
  We first came to a house
      Brother built to save his claim,
  At the next prominent point
      On a tree he'd cut his name.
  
  And there we made a stop,
      And looked around to see
  How it might appear
      When improved it came to be.
  
  We rode out on the prairie,
      And when we came around
  They seemed to be agreed, 
      For me to settle down.
  
  Jeremiah held inducements
      That were friendly, kind and fair,
  But I did not feel quite willing
      To go so far frontier.
  
  For it would be so unhandy
      At the early time of day,
  For my children to do business,
      And the river in the way.
  
  And I thought 'twould not be prudent
      To take my family there,
  So large a helpless family,
      And no white family near.
  
  From the Mouth of the Fox, the North side,
      No white family in those days,
  Till below the little Vermillion,
      And there lived Mr. Hayes.
  
  The prairie I thought good,
      Not much objection to the timber,
  But at that time of day,
      It was the wrong side of the river.
  
  We were told some tribes of Indians
      Had been wronged out of their pay,
  And they were determined to murder,
      To rob, to kill and slay.
  
  Accordingly the next year
      They stole as sly as they could,
  And murdered all the North side,
      And shed much human blood.
  
  With but a few exceptions,
      That chanced to get away,
  They killed all that they could find,
      That fourteenth day of May.
  
  And so we all went on,
      A traveling down the river,
  William Car, myself,
      And my two youngest brothers.
  
  When we came to Comsagen
      One of the men did say,
  "This is the finest place
      For making of the hay!"
  
  Comsagen bottom's rich,
      The grass grew tall upon it,
  I took some grass in either hand
      And tied across my bonnet.
  
  While sitting on a horse that
      Was full sixteen hands high,
  And that kind of wild grass
      Looks very much like rye.
  
  And there we did light down,
      And lunch we then were eating
  While sitting on the ground,
      And our horses were a feeding.
  
  Then brother set me on my horse
      And rode into the stream,
  But before he reached the middle,
      I saw it too deep did seem.
  
  Before that he got through,
      Run high as the horse's back,
  He found it was to deep for me,
      And round about did tack.
  
  Then we rode down the stream,
      The grass was tall and thick,
  And I was sore afraid
      We, in the mud might stick.
  
  We at length came to a place
      Were the stream was twice as wide,
  Then without any trouble,
      We through the stream did ride.
  
  And so we traveled on,
      Looked no more for claim that day,
  For the earth seemed rough and rocky,
      And stony all the way.
  
  When again we came to little Vermillion,
      There we lit upon the ground,
  For the bluff was very high,
      And nearly perpendicular down.
  
  Jeremiah said the Indians
      Had a way of getting down,
  It did not take him long
      Till the Indian trace he found.
  
  It wound around the bluff,
      I thought it full of danger,
  For if we chance to drop off
      We'd fall slap in the water.
  
  For if we chanced to slip,
      Make a mistake or a blunder,
  We might fall from fifty feet
      To, perhaps, more than one hundred.
  
  They led the horses down,
      They led one at a time,
  And when they led their own
      They also did lead mine.
  
  The next thing to be done
      Was to ride the Vermillion River,
  I thought we had escaped
      One imminent danger.
  
  The waters all were high,
      And the rived loud did roar,
  As it foamed and lashed to rocks
      And it also lashed the shore.
  
  We all went safely through,
      And rode on down the river,
  Till we came to a boat
      That was owned by Mr. Crosier.
  
  And there made a stop,
      And stepped into the boat,
  And when we all got in
      They shove it off afloat.
  
  And on the other side,
      Not far up in the woods,
  There was Mrs. Crosier
      In a cabin selling goods.
  
  The house was low and small,
      And so were goods and all,
  My brothers, five feet eight,
      Under the joist, could not stand 
  straight.
  
  That house was built of small round logs,
      And all the bark kept on,
  And nails driven in the joist
      Sieves and hats to hang upon.
  
  And among the sieves and hats,
      If you chanced to turn around,
  If you were not very careful,
      Some of them you'd tumble down.
  
  I bought a corn meal sieve
      And paid her eight cents,
  And took it in my hand,
      And toward my home I went.
  
  I carried it on my lap,
      Away below Lacon,
  To a house I lived in then,
      Built by my son John.
  
  Long since I saw that lady,
      On the North side of the river,
  In a full store of goods,
      And you could buy just what you'd 
  rather.