GREAT, GREAT, GREAT GRANDPARENTS

 

SYLVANUS (SILVANUS) FERRIS (Photo) born March 5, 1773 Greenwich, Connecticut and died June 13, 1861 Galesburg, Knox, IL. He removed with his parents from Greenwich to S. Salem (Lewisboro), Westchester Co NY 1782; married 1st March 15, 1798 Sarah ‘Sally’ Maria Olmsted born 1779 (of Sharon CT) and died September 6, 1845 Galesburg IL. (her parents were Hezekiah and Sarah (Gale) [daughter of G. W. Gale] Olmstead - See Separate Paper on the Olmsteds) in Connecticut and they immediately moved to Norway, Herkimer, NY and purchased 100 acres of unimproved land and built their farm cabin there on the edge of what was then the Adirondack wilderness where for nearly 40 years they engaged successfully in dairy farming. One source says they had seven sons and 3 daughters; only six sons and 3 daughters are shown below. Silvanus was a dairy farmer and cheese maker in New York (See Separate Paper on Herkimer County). [There was a Justice of the Peace, ‘Squire’ Silvanus Ferris who performed numerous marriages in Norway between 1808-1820 - don't know if this is the same Silvanus, but am not aware of any other Silvanus in Norway, Herkimer Co at that time - Jim] [There was also a Private Silvanus Ferris in Captain Jared Smith's Company, September 14, 1811 - again, don't know if this is the same gentleman - Jim] Silvanus and his wife were Presbyterians of the staunch type and inculcated those principles in the lives of their children. To the Presbyterian Church, he was always loyal and generous with his money. In 1813 when the Norway Presbyterian Church was built he gave $150.00; later he built a chapel on the state road east of Norway. In Russia he erected the chapel for the Presbyterians that stood so near the old Russia Union Church; was always a trustee of the Russia Union Church. Silvanus was one of the founders of Knox College, Illinois. (See They Broke the Prairie.) Silvanus and Sally came to Knox Co in the spring of 1837. He was not a large, robust man, (photograph) but was of medium height, perhaps 5'9" and very quiet, not a great talker. Silvanus's siblings that accompanied them in 1837 were Gideon, James, Hannah, Sarah, and Mary E. The Ferris’ passed the winter of 1837-38 at Log City and probably remained there during the summers of 1838-39, and possibly until some time during the year of 1840, when comfortable frame homes were being rapidly constructed in Galesburg; moved into their frame house at the corner of Thompkins and Cherry Streets, diagonally across from the site of Knox Seminary, now known as Whiting Hall - where he lived for the remainder of his life. He continued the tradition of giving his sons a section of land after they had married, except he gave, G.W.G, his youngest, 720 acres; apparently his son Nathan O. paid him for his section. (See diagram, at the end of this chapter, of Galesburg Township and the land owned by the Ferris’, a total of 4,565 acres - Jim – incredible!) [According to the Illinois Archives - Land Purchases, Sylvanus bought over 10,000 acres in 1835.] According to family tradition, he was connected with the underground railroad, hiding slaves in the church belfry and his own home by day, and helping them on their way north by night by concealing them in loads of straw. Silvanus took an active interest in the affairs of Knox College and was a member of the Board of Trustees for 21 years (1837-58) until at the age of 85 he resigned. The motion to accept his resignation was amended so as to order a committee to prepare a resolution expressing the sentiments of the Board. The resolution follows: “Mr. Silvanus Ferris having tendered to this Board the resignation of his seat as member thereof, and the same having been accepted, it is hereby declared as the sense of the Board of Trustees of Knox College, and as a matter of history proper to be spread upon the records of their proceedings, that they recognize in their late associate, one of the earliest, most substantial and most faithful friends of the enterprise which resulted in the founding of Knox College, and that to his liberality and devoted labors the Institution is largely indebted for its present financial prosperity. Entertaining these views, this Board does hereby express their high regard for Mr. Ferris, and an earnest hope that health, peace, and happiness may attend his declining years”. Sally died September 6, 1845; both buried Hope Cemetery, Galesburg IL (see tombstone photo). After Sally's death, Silvanus married October 27, 1846 Mrs. Sarah Warner (Stevens) Hitchcock, a widow who had joined the Galesburg settlement some time before with her seven children. He took the sons and daughters of Mrs. Hitchcock into his heart and home and treated them as his own and she did likewise with his. She was loved by his grandchildren as though she was their own. She died August 1, 1881 and is also buried at Hope Cemetery.

 

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Wonderful photos of Ferris family and associated families

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH by ELLA FERRIS ARNOLD

    I was born on Nov. 29, 1842 in a small house, which stood on the lot on which the Association Home now stands. My Grandfather Ferris lived on the corner of Cherry & Tompkins Street just north. He bought my father's place - the south half of the lot I think, and gave it to his only daughter, Mrs. Harriet Bunce. Dr. Bunce, the first physician of the Galesburg colony built the large frame residence, which stood there till about the year 1915 or 16 and was then torn down and the Association Home, was erected. Dr. & Mrs. Bunce lived there the rest of their lives and all their children were born there.
    After my father sold that place, he moved to the farm on W. Fremont Street between Henderson and the street west, now owned by the Thompsons and lived there about four or five years. My brothers Timothy and Henry were born there, Tim in 1845 and Henry in '48. We moved from there to "the section" on south Henderson Street, which was given by my grandfather Silvanus Ferris to my father when the township was platted. This was about the spring of 1849, I think. We lived in a small frame house about 16 by 24 for about two years. My father, who never bought anything that he could make, made the brick and built the central portion of the house now owned by his grandson Harry Drew Ferris. The "brick yard” was a few rods east of the place where the large barn now stands and the clay of which the brick was made was dug on that spot. Those brick were literally 'hand made' for I watched the job and it was well done as proved by their present condition. The clay was dug, ground up fine and moulded in frames which held about twelve brick each and carried to a yard which had been leveled off very smooth and covered with sand and placed to dry in the July sun. If a rain came up and the brick were in the yard they were ruined and had to be molded over again. (Mr. Thomas Liddle and Joseph Thirlwell were the managers of the brickyard.) After they were dried, they were placed in the kiln and covered for protection from rain and when enough were completed the kiln was burned by a professional burner who had to sit up nights to keep up the fires and be furnished with a sufficient quantity of stimulant to keep happy. I think wood must have been used for the fires for I do not remember to have ever seen coal at that time. I think the house must have been built about the year 1850. Mr. Thomas Liddle and Joseph Thirlwell were the masons who laid the walls. They were Englishmen who had just "come over. We moved into the house in the fall of that year before it was finished, for Mr. Thirlwell's father and mother and Mr. John Robson had just arrived and my father had rented some of the farm to Mr. Robson and had to give him possession of the little house in which we lived. The walls of the brick house were up and the roof on, except the ridgepole and some of the windows in, but not all for when it rained mother had to hang up blankets at the windows. Father worked right along and soon had the ridgepole and windows in place and outside door hung. The partition walls are all of brick and there was no plaster on them for several years. The floors were not finished or nailed down, only boards laid over the joists, but it was a new house and had six rooms in it. Father had his carpenter's work bench on the south side of the living room and that winter he planed and laid the floor and we children watched him match the boards which were of different widths and work out the groove between planks and fit the boards in place. It was quite interesting for us but rather hard on mother. That workbench stood there till the casings were on doors and windows and floors laid upstairs and down. There was no plaster on the brick walls for several years and it was a happy day for mother and children when the plastering was finished, for father did it all himself as he had time to do it.
    Several years later Hattie and I papered the sidewalls ourselves and white- washed the ceiling.
    Father dug a well and all the water for the house and much of the water for the horses came from that well. It was a few rods from the house. We had to draw the water for the house with the wellsweep. I remember riding on the lower end of that sweep while a man pulled the bucket end down to fill with water and when the water was low in the well it was a rather strenuous job to hang on. All the horses from the barn had their drink from the trough, which was attached to the well. The family used this well for all purposes. Later father dug another well nearer the house. That well is in use today. I went there a few years ago and had a drink from that well. The water tasted very good. I would like to have another drink out of that well.
    We had no barn when we first went there, but the horses and cattle were protected in winter. They built two-rail fences, always joggy, filled in between these with prairie grass on the north side and on the east and west sides, leaving the south side open. This was protected by timbers on poles at the top for a roof so as to keep the horses and cattle from rain. Straw was placed above on the timbers. We used those sheds for a good many years before we ever had a barn.
    We used to mow, by hand of course, large tracts of prairie grass and some of it was brought up to the barn and stacked so as to protect the sheds and we fed it to the cattle in the winter. We had no corn to feed. Sometimes the prairie grass was stacked up out in the fields where it was cut. At times the prairie grass got on fire and when it got near those stacks the whole force went to work to beat out the fire. I remember once mother and the hired man went out in the middle of the night and worked for hours to protect the stacks of hay. Father was away from home.
    Father planted an orchard. He planted apple seeds and raised apple trees. He got our apples from Canton. Canton was settled before Galesburg, and was a distance away of 40 miles. He went down every year and brought home a wagonload and stored them in the cellar. In the spring of the year he would cut the plants down to the ground and during the winter from places where they had apples -- at grandfather's, and uncle's - he got scions of a year's growth. He cut them off in the winter and in the spring he would bud them. This gave him the desired species or apples. The apple originally planted was just a common apple. He planted out a large orchard, but by the time it got to bearing the borers appeared and bored into the trees so half of them never bore at all. Some of the trees did bear and we had apples from them.
    Father took a notion to raise hedges. He got half a bushel of osage orange hedge seed. He sent away for it. It was the duty of us children to weed those hedge plants and when they were a year or two old he set out hedges on both sides of the road, Henderson St. Some of these hedges are still standing and doing duty as fences. His farm was fenced with hedges all around, and cross-fields too. We children raised the plants. These large worms that are found on tomatoes used to live on the plants and we had to look them over two or three times a summer and kill them.
    The road to the farm was out Cedar Street, or some street in that direction. There was not a fence from Galesburg to the Thurwell corners. The road just wandered across the prairie to a place where the stockyards are, which we called the “Mound" -- it was the highest point. There was a gradual rise from the college ground. From the Mound we went south--not a house in sight-- on to my Uncle Harvey Jerould's place. Our house was a mile and a half south of it. There was not a house or fence in between.
    One very popular young man, a relative of Robert Chappell, died down there. His name was Chappell also. His father was dead and his mother was quite aged. There was one daughter, Carrie, a beautiful girl. Her brother was sick and she undertook to go down to him. She had to go down the river on boat, taking 10 days or more. He died before she got there and was sent home on another boat. She had to turn around and take another boat home. The boats in those days made no time at all. Of course she got home too late. I believe when she went, she went from here to Quincy and got a boat there.
    Before we moved to the farm, when I was between 3 and 6 years old, we lived on the Thompson farm on West Fremont Street. The house had a kitchen, living room and bedroom. There was a big brick oven built in the middle of the house. A fireplace opened into the living room. Mother didn't have a cook stove at first, but later did have one in the kitchen. The brick oven extended out into the bedroom. I don't know what they did with it in the summer. I think they had brick ovens outdoors for summer use.
    In those days a dressmaker, Mary Ann Paden, used to go around sewing. She made all the men's clothes, suits and overcoats, and the women's dresses. Father used to keep sheep. He hauled the wool to market, either to Peoria or Oquawka. He had some or it made up into cloth. We had several bolts of seal brown flannel for mothers’ and other various dresses and skirts for children’s uses and red flannel and full cloth. Mary Ann Paden made father's suits and pants out of the full cloth for men. Then there was another cloth, a little heavier than full cloth that was used for his overcoats. She used to come around once a year and "sew us up”. She was a character like no other and a great talker and story-teller.
    There was a traveling shoemaker, Chris Miner, who carried his set of tools and shoemaker's folding bench, which was something like a washing bench with boxes on top for tools, from house to house and made up the shoes and boots for the men, women and children. These shoes and boots would last about a year. Father bought leather by the hide. He saved the skin of any animal that died, had it cured and tanned and made into leather. They made morocco and sole leather out of cow and horse hides. Morocco was made out of calfskins. Chris Miner came and made up our shoes. This was when we were on West Fremont Street. Once I remember Chris Miner came to make the shoes and Mary Ann Paden was there making clothes. They were a pair! He would sing a song and she would sing one to match it. He would tell a story and she would tell another. They stayed nights or as long as it was necessary, and then moved on to the next house. There was fun alive at those times.
    Mother made her own soap. We burned wood. I never saw coal for years after that. Father saved the ashes, and dried them. He made a platform, took a barrel and bored some holes in the bottom, then filled it with ashes and set the barrel so the lye drained out. A kettle was set at that point. It was the duty of the children to keep water in the barrel on the ashes. After the lye was drained, it was put into a big kettle -- A big iron kettle which belonged to someone in the neighborhood was passed on from family to family for such usages. During the winter we saved all the fats and grease. The grease and lye was put in this big kettle and a fire was kept under the kettle. This was another job of the children, keeping the fire burning. It usually took two or three days to make the soap. If we wanted some special soap for hand use, we took out some of it and put some salt in it, stirred it up and let it dry down. Then we cut it into squares, thus making cakes of soap for hand use. This was one of the duties of the farmer's wife. We probably never bought a cake of soap. I used to make soap years after I was married. My husband set up many an ash kiln.
    There were no matches in the world in those days. I guess there was a way or making fire by rubbing sticks together and having paper and kindling together to make a lire. Mother went visiting one time and the fire went out. I was sent to the neighbors to get a brand of fire. I took an old copper kettle and went a half-mile and got a nice live brand, brought it home for mother to start the family fire. I don't think mother was in the habit or making fires, for a fire was never allowed to go out. It was always covered with ashes and would keep several days.
    Making candles was one of mother's duties, assisted by the other members of the family. Every family kept a bunch of candle rods, a hundred or more. Before the making of candles, the wicks which had been carefully measured the right length, were cut and twisted around the rod six or eight on a rod and laid carefully away till all were done. The tallow was put in the wash boiler and melted. A quantity of hot water was added to fill the boiler to the top, so as to make the candles clear to the top of the wick. Enough candles were usually made at one dipping to last six months or a year, according to the amount of tallow we had. The water in the boiler did not interfere with the making of the growth of the candle, because water and tallow do not mix.
    There were a good many colored families that came up from Missouri and Kentucky and Galesburg was celebrated for its abolition of slavery. My father was one of the men who took the colored people in and helped them. They would travel nights. There were different stations along the way. I believe Princeton was the next one. The men would drive a wagon, having some hay in it, and they would go that way. My father was very much interested in helping them and he employed colored people. There was one family that came from Kentucky and who found an old cabin near us, in which they lived. The mother died, leaving six or seven children. One of the girls took consumption and was quite sick. The neighbors helped them all they could, and mother helped too. This girl was brought to our house. Mother put a bed up in our living room for her. She took care of the girl until she died. None of us contracted the consumption.
    In our life on the farm, I spoke of watering the horses at the well. The cattle were driven to the creek every morning. The first thing after breakfast we got the cattle, which were in a yard near the barn at night, let down the bars and turned them out into the path and drove them down to the creek to drink.
    A surveyor (Nehemiah Losey) came out with the party, which founded Galesburg. My father's father, Sylvanus Ferris, gave each of his children a section of land, a section being 1/36 of a township. There were seven children. The first one, the oldest son, was given the section at the northwest corner of town. The next child was given the next one, and so on. Our section was on the other end of the row. Uncle George's was along on Monmouth Road. Grandfather chose a section for himself that was just beyond the city limits. These sections did not join. He entered them at $1.25 an acre. He paid cash to the College, $6.00 an acre, for all this land. This is where the college endowment came from. He was a good farmer down east, at Utica. Grandfather never lived on this section, but broke it up, fenced it off and cultivated it. He used to come out here and look it over. That was down on the west side of the Abingdon road.
    There was a sawmill, which sawed up lumber, also a gristmill. One of the gristmills was very famous. It was the Olmsted mill. I think there also was a mill here in town. The Olmsted mill was northwest of town. It was the best. Father would haul a load of wheat to the mill and if the miller wasn't too busy he would grind it and bring it home, but if the miller had other work ahead he would have to leave the grain until his turn came to have it ground. He brought home bags of bran. The next grade was kernel and there was something they called "shorts". He would bring home a bag or two of shorts, and the flour.
    The wood we had was cut from trees. The men would go to the woods with an axe and cut down a tree. Several men would get together and help each other, saw it up into single lengths according to what use it was to be put to. They also made rails. If they wanted any lumber for flooring or beams they would cut the proper lengths and load it on a wagon and haul it to town and have it sawed off. They would bring the slabs home for firewood. It was wonderful how everything could be done without machinery.
    The grain used to be put into sacks after the threshing was done without any threshing machines. I think they laid a platform and drove horses around and around until they had tramped the grain out of I the wheat and then they would rake off the straw and leave the grain on the platform. They had a fanning mill run by hand. The boys ran it. The grain was pushed through a hopper and as it went the air would blow the grain out. That was the only way. My father didn’t have a granary. He built a square rail, put a timber on the bottom and then put some prairie grass on it, and in between the rails. He put the grain in this. He put straw or grass on top so the water would run off instead of settling in the grain.
    I think I remember the first service held in the church. I don't remember whether the walls were plastered or not, but I know there was a floor laid and the roof was on, and I think the windows were in. The seats were two-inch planks arranged in front of the platform. There was no pulpit. The ends were on blocks about 15 inches high. There were rows of seats on one side, then an aisle, and then another row of seats. The gallery was in the back end of the church, the second story. There were 3 rows of seats along the north end of the gallery. The choir sat in the gallery. Some one played a violin and there was some kind of a melodeon. There was also a base viol. There were probably ten or more singers and when the hymns were sung the congregation arose and turned around and faced the choir, singing the hymns. We had some very good singers. The leader was Leonard Bacon. He played the violin and sang tenor. He was very nearsighted. It was an interesting show to watch him; he bent down until his nose almost touched his book and then he would raise his head and send out a roaring tenor voice that nearly drowned the rest of the choir. He also taught singing school. The members of the choir used to practice, going around to the different homes. Mr. and Mrs. Silas Olmsted and the tenor, Leonard Bacon, George Churchill and others were members. After the hymns were sung we turned around and sat down. When the church was built those who gave $100. (this $100 went into the building fund for the church) had the privilege of having a permanent seat. I think a deed was given to them; it was theirs forever without any charge or rental. Of course the people paid for the support of the pastor aside from that. My father’s pew was number 19. I can see the other members of the family as they were scattered around in their pews. Dr. Bunce had the next one in front of ours and Uncle George and Grandfather Ferris and Uncle William were seated in front of us. Uncle Western was back of us. Across the aisle was the Wilcox family and others. I can see them plainly.
    We had the morning service at 10:30 and afterwards the Sunday School. The grown folks didn't go to Sunday School as much as they do now. The children all staid and the teachers for an hour and had the lesson and singing. George Churchill was superintendent for a good many years. He was a remarkable man -- a man of mark in his faithfulness to duty and his genial way of conducting the service.
    My grandfather lived on the corner of Tompkins and Cherry Streets, where St. Mary's Hospital is. He was one of the best men that ever lived, I am sure. He was always doing some good deed. He had 5 sons and one daughter. They all lived around Galesburg on the farms, except those that lived in town. His first wife was a cousin of Dr. Gale; her name was Sallie Olmsted. She died 3 or 4 years after they came west (9 years). There was a widow who had 6 children, mostly grown, a Mrs. Hitchcock, who came here. She was an ideal christian. She lived her profession to the limit and was always looking for an opportunity to do good and help some one. After a couple of years or so grandfather decided he needed a helpmate and they were married. He was just as good to her children and grandchildren as he was to his own and she was as good to his children and grandchildren as she was to her own. My sister and I loved them both and would go to town and stay with them a week if we wanted to and didn't think anything of it. My sister lived there part of the time while she was going to school. Grandmother always had some of her needy nieces or grandchildren in her home to help with the work. She always had one or two college boys in the home who worked for their board.
    After the church services closed the grown folks all went to grandfather Ferris’. They sat in the kitchen - it was a kitchen and dining room all in one. Grandmother and her helpers went into the pantry and prepared a lunch, bread and butter, a little cold meat, a pickle, a piece of cheese, a doughnut or cookie. She would have a plate for all who went there. After the Sunday School services were over all the grandchildren came. There were generally 10 or 15 of them. The older people would be through with lunch by that time and grandmother would prepare a lunch for all the grandchildren. After they finished eating they all filed to the woodshed where the well was and had a drink from an old rusty dipper which hung near the bucket. By the time all were through and had an airing, it was time to go back to the afternoon service. It was held at 1:30. We had another regular preaching service of the same character as the morning service. About three o'clock we were dismissed and went home. That was the Sunday program year in and year out. We had Sunday School picnics once in a while and other social gatherings.
    This was before the war, of course.
    The election of Lincoln and the nomination of Fremont were just as hotly contested as any election ever could be. The results of course are known. On the day that Fort Sumter fell, April 1861, my brother Alfred was starting for Californ1a. He was already to start off and we knew that the battle was on at Ft. Sumter. He had 3 yoke of oxen and a covered wagon and all his appliances loaded and was going with a party of Emmigrants from Monmouth. He started off that morning before daylight. They traveled all summer across the plains and in the fall they got to the western side of Nevada. He was tired of trave1img and became interested in mining there and staid there 4 years. He was twice elected sheriff of the county in which he lived. He was married to a daughter of a family that lived there. A year or so after they were married he decided he wanted to come back and he wrote to father and asked him to send him some money to Salt Lake City. They were going by team to Salt Lake City. Father sent the money. We didn't hear from him at all. Along in the summer there was a notice came that there was a letter in the dead letter department at Washington addressed to him with a draft in it and asked him what should be done with it. Of course father wrote to have it sent to him. Then we never heard from my brother. His wife's people lived there and they invest1gated but couldn’t find out anything. At that time the Indians were killing people and we always thought they were killed by the Indians. Later my sister-in-law’s people decided it was the Mormons that killed them. They were doing things like that. An old lady whom I met in Salt Lake City told me that she came across the plains with Brigham Young. They were Mormons. Brigham Young told at a meeting that a party of emigrants were coming through at such a place and that they had cattle and material and that the Lord needed them. He said, “I don't ask you to go and get them, but I call for volunteers.” That was the way they dealt with emigrants. She said they left the Mormons then and had had nothing more to do with them since.
    The excitement of the war was intense. There were about 25 or 30 boys left at college, but in the academy, which was, as attached to the college there were more. Professor Churchill was the head and "all". He had one or two assistant teachers, but he ran the academy. He was a universal favorite. We celebrated the triumvirate by purchasing the organ that is in Central Church. The official name of the organ is the Triumvirate Memorial Organ, in memory of the three teachers who lead the college in those days, Prot. Churchill, Prof. Hurd and Prof.Comstock. There was an article prepared and sent to all graduates at that time. They raised the money to pay for the organ. There were many subscriptions of $1. and several for $100. I was treasurer of the fund.
    Dr. Bateman has told his personal experience of going through college, and 1 think that my personal experience was so similar in a way that maybe it will not be a miss to tell how I went through college. My father brought some land (2 quarter sections of land) in the early days and at that time they gave scholarships for 25 years tuition in the college for each quarter section that people bought, my father thus having two scholarships. My sister and I paid our tuition through Knox College with the use of those scholarships. We lived on the farm, south of town, on the section which grandfather gave to my father. Sister was a little in advance in school and staid out and taught school a term or two. I went straight through, entered in 1860 and graduated in 1863. I had a room in Whiting Hall on the third floor part of the time. During the war there were 12 or 15 girls in the hall. Most of them were on the second floor. Most of the rooms on the third floor were vacant. I used to come up from the farm Sunday afternoons or Monday mornings and bring a basket of food from home. There being plenty of vacant rooms and a room was given me to use in which to keep my food and eat. I was so fortunate as to have a grandmother on the corner and several aunts in town who were typical Galesburgers of the time and I had a standing invitation to come in and take a meal any time I wanted to, which I did with many thanks for the great kindness and helpfulness with which they put me through. My father and mother thought they couldn’t afford to put me through school and board me, so as you see, I boarded myself with their help. My sister and I kept house the last year of our school in the home, which my father and mother owned and lived in when they lived in town. We had a very efficient housekeeper and we kept some boarders. The lady who had lived there before us had the boarders and when we moved in they wanted to stay there; so my sister with the help of the efficient cook let them do so. There were two married men and their wives and a few others who came in for their meals. The last year of our school we spent in that home and supported ourselves. Among the boarders there, there was a Mr. B. F. Arnold. My sister was the great favorite and I was second best usually. This Mr. Arnold took a notion that I was the one he wanted, so he proposed to me one night on the sofa. I took the matter under consideration and decided I would accept. We were married the 26th of May after I graduated. We were married at home on the farm. This house, where we lived the last year of our schooling, was on Simmons St. at the head of Boone’s Ave., where the fire department is today. Our class ran the college while we were there we thought. There were ten girls and five men in the class, which graduated that June. The men are all passed on and all the girls except Mrs. Bell Cathren Ayres and myself.
    Little Caroline Elizabeth born there on June 18, 1851. Father kept two or three hundred sheep and it was the work of the children who were old enough to watch the sheep graze on the prairie and keep them from wandering away and getting mixed with the neighbors, or getting into the grain fields. There were no fences only around the outside of the farm and we drove the sheep into a yard at night and let them out onto the prairie in the morning. We always carried a stout stick to protect ourselves from mad dogs and rattle snakes, but I think our bare legs were the safest protection, as I never remember to have been attacked by either. Father sold the sheep and then our job was to herd the cattle, but by this time we were furnished with an old mare to ride and the work was more interesting. I remember following the plough day after day all the spring and dropping corn in every third furrow, which my brother made when breaking up the east field with three yoke of oxen. I rode on the back of one of them when going to and from the field. We all had chills and fever the summer of 1852 caused by the rotting of the sod after the west field was broken and my little brother Henry Blanchard died from jaundice following ague the winter of 1853. He was a beautiful black-eyed boy, the gem of the family we all thought, of four years of age. He was buried on the corner south of the house. My little sister Gala died the next September by falling into a pail of hot water and being scalded. These were sad times for the family and mother almost went distracted because of grief at losing her two youngest children so near together.
    It must have been in 1854 that father had his foot ground from his leg by stepping on the joint of the “tumbling shaft” of the threshing machine and slipping so that his foot and ankle were drawn into the joint and crushed so that his foot was separated from the leg all but the heel cord and the main artery. Dr. Bunce was called as soon as possible and bound the foot in place. It was years before it was entirely healed and hundreds of pieces of bone were taken out for months after at the daily dressings. The ankle joint was always stiff but father thought his foot was much better than none. He always made his own shoes after, as he had special lasts and a set of shoemakers tools and could suit himself better than in any other way.
    Lillie born in 1856 and I think it was in 1857 or 1858 that father rented the farm and moved into town. He traded the north farm for a brick house at the head of Boone’s Avenue and some lots near the depot and some other property. The Fire department is now located where our Family home was for several years. We only lived in town a couple of years when father and mother and Tim and Lillie moved back to the farm, as renting did not prove satisfactory. Hattie and I entered College in 1860 and we staid in the house and some married people boarded with us. We kept a competent maid and with some help from the ladies in the house got along very comfortably till we graduated in 1863. Several gentlemen boarded with us the last year or two as Hattie was a good provider and quite a popular landlady. Among them were Scott Dewey, a R. R. Conductor and Warren Bakers, a moneylender and B. F. Arnold, a lawyer and real estate man. The two former were rather “sweet” on the landlady but the latter actually proposed to the headwaiter and they were married at the farm home on May 26, 1864. The town house was broken up and “the girls" moved back to the farm where they lived till they were both married. B. F. Arnold and Ella were married at eight o'clock on May 26, 1864 and Edwin Crandall and Hattie in Nov. the day after Thanksgiving of the same year.
    It was a lonesome Mother that winter who kept the home for father and Tim and Lillie. Hatti came home in the spring and always after that they were closely associated in their home life, often living together. Tim was married to Mary Drew in a year or two and was proprietor of the farm and father and mother and the Crandalls moved back to the city. My father’s and mother’s family consisted of seven children, Alfred Garret the eldest, Harriet Maria born in 1839, Ella in 1842, Timothy Harvey in 1845, Henry Blanchard who died aged/4, Caroline Elizabeth aged 3 and Lillie Cornelia born in 1856.
    Thus endeth something of a family record, but I have been asked to tell of some of the doings of our childhood in a frontier town located in the middle west in the thirties and forties of the last century. These records begin when we moved onto "the section" in 1849.
    There used to be great discussion where to build the schoolhouse. All the people lived in the north end of that school district and my rather wanted it down nearer our farm and the center or the district, but the major1ty overruled and the schoolhouse was built where it is now, the Thurwell School, the site given by Mr. Thurlwell, a mile and a half from our home. We did not go to school very much. We went through the Primary Dept. at home. When we left the farm and moved to town, I graded up with all the other girls that had gone to school all their lives. Sometimes, when there were two or three of us going to school, and when my father wasn’t too busy, we rode an old horse, but we usually walked. We only had school in the summer season.
    One family built a house about half way between my uncle's and our house. Finch was their name.
    My father and his family moved to town in 1856. We girls went into the Academy and later into the college. War broke out in l861. Nearly all the boys left for war, or went home so their fathers could go. There were only 15 or 20 boys left at college. The first death of the college boys was an event that touched our hearts almost beyond our ability to endure it. He was George Foster. He was a young man, a senior, who had been planning to be a minister. He left and went to war. He was a lieutenant. It was his duty to lead his men. He went forward and was shot. He had not been in service more than two or three months when he was killed. He was brought home and burial service was held in what is now Beecher Chapel. He was buried in Hope Cemetery. After that there were others who were taken sick and died, or who were killed and brought home. Some of the finest young men the city ever had are lying there in the cemetery on account of their war service.
    The women of the city organized the Soldiers Aid Society and went into it just as they did here in the Red Cross. They made garments and packed barrels of food. Mother Bickerdyke lived here and was very efficient. Mary Allen West was a local woman who did much for the soldiers. She canvassed for food for the hospitals and sent carloads of food to the soldiers in hospitals along the Mississippi River. They canvassed the farmers, who gave cattle and hogs and vegetables and fruit, in fact anything they raised, and all this was sent to these hospitals in Tennessee, Louisiana and Kentucky on the Mississippi River. Everything had to go by boat. There were no railroads.