Class Fl Z / 
 
 Book ■■■ ^, 
 
BOYHOOD LIFE 
 
 IN i^—^ 
 
 lOSSfK 
 
 iicfi If »ii In, 
 
 AS FOUND IN THE 
 Memoirs of Rufus Rittenhouse. 
 
 F^RICE, 15 cents. 
 
 DUBUQUE, IOWA. 
 
 KAS. 15. DORR, I5()C)K AND JOR PRINTER, 
 
 i8Sa. 
 
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 <<-^^\ 
 
 PREFA CE. 
 
 Kind friends have frequentl^y requested the author to place 
 in book form a narrative of his early experience in pioneer 
 life. In compliance with these desires he gives them in the 
 following pages a short sketch of his boyhood life in Iowa 
 fort\' 3'ears ago, hoping that such recital \vill prove not only 
 interesting but profitable. Not wishing to weary, much 
 w^hich might have been said has been omitted lest the reading 
 thereof prove dull and incipid. To those who have thus 
 shown their kind appreciation of the work many thanks. 
 
 RUFUS RiTTEN HOUSE. 
 
 Entered according to act of Conjiress, in tin; year 1880. by 
 
 RUFUS RITTENIIOUSE. 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C 
 
 ^<^-1-l1Q3 
 
LIFE OF RUFUS RITTENHOUSE, 
 
 I was born in Hunderton County, New Jersey, in 1825. 
 Mv earliest recollection is the han^^ing of a negro at Flem- 
 ington, N. J. In my second year I entered school, and fin- 
 ished my education at ten years. I was taught to read and 
 write a little, that the world was round, and that there were 
 other continents beside x\merica, but could never learn 
 grammar. M}^ education thus finished, m}' father emigra- 
 ted ro Iowa with his famih' and hopeful son me. 
 
 In the year '36, after a few careful days travel in canal- 
 boats, we reached Pittsburg, then a city of some five thou- 
 sand, and waited there two days for a boat. Cincinnati 
 was the next place of importance, ^^'ith about fifty thous- 
 and population : Louisville was on the map, Cairo supposed 
 to be. We reached St. Louis, a place of about twelve 
 thousand, with Alton on the river a few miles above. Tnere 
 were other v^illages as far up as Prairie du Chien. 
 
 We arrived in Dubuque about May loth. My father 
 and myself in company with other travelers climbed to the 
 top of the blufis which over-looked the village. The town 
 had been laid out for a city, and here and there were a few 
 scattering log huts as far up a Sixth Street. Two families 
 moved into the onU' vacant house — a log hut corner Sixth 
 and Main — nine souls in all, for which my father paid $15 a 
 month. A few days after he was taken sick with fever, 
 and as our means were limited, to us it was a time of sore 
 distress. When he recovered he obtained employment as 
 superintendent in the erection of a saw^-mill, ten miles west 
 of the village of Dubuque. 
 
 The P^ourth of July was duly celebrated b}' the few citi- 
 zens of the place in a grand style, Small pigs were cut in 
 halves and roasted, and with green peas and beans every 
 one fared sumptuously who luid the nimble fifty cents. As 
 
BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 for mvself I got my dinner gratis, but not until I had done 
 errands and work enough before, and promised that I wo'd 
 do more afterwards. 
 
 Before this my father having dealt in patent rights, and 
 swamp lands below Philadelphia, and bought Indian claims 
 in Wisconsin of Jonathan Carver's heirs, now m.oved to the 
 country,and as he was engaged in building a mill for others 
 he conceived the idea of erecting one for himself. He pur- 
 chased a claim with a "promise to pay;" also a horse and 
 cow. 1 shall never forget the place he moved on. It was in 
 July, '36; the claim was on the middle fork of the Little 
 Maquoketa, on the south branch near the blutl'which comes 
 down to the creek, and about one-third of a mile west of 
 where the north fork comes in, at the foot of Golaspie Hill. 
 It was quite a stream, large enough for me to tish chubs 
 out of, with which we had a good many fr}- s. Will try to 
 describe the place — log hut plastered outside and in between 
 
 
 
 
 ■'J</uiHS»«r;(a:--JJiii 
 
 View of mv father's house in 1836. 
 
 the logs with clay; might have been.iifteen feet square: a 
 large chimnev at one end; floor made of puncheons, that is 
 small po]ilar trees halved with the flat side up : doors were 
 made out of same material, hung on wooden hinges to suit: 
 
FORTY YICAliS AciO. 
 
 once build a tire and you were never out, particularly in 
 winter time. I have seen better houses than ours was, one 
 end all chimne}', with doors opposite each other large enough 
 to drive a yoke of oxen through wMth a log. Several logs 
 would be drawn into the house in this way when the doors 
 would be closed, and a good tire would be built; if any logs 
 were left, sit down upon them in the absence of chairs. — 
 The roof of our house was covered with clapboards, with 
 ridge poles three feet apart. I recollect mother saying, "And 
 is this the Northwest Territory?" for it was so laid down 
 on the map — "Is this where you have brought me to live?" 
 
 We had a neighbor who lived about a mile below us, by 
 the name of Captain Dement. About a mile above us 
 there was a little village of some twenty families. Duran- 
 go was the name of the place; it was a mining camp, and 
 its history since has only been desolation; but few except 
 myself know where it was. There were two men living 
 in a cabin around the Hill by the name of Captain George 
 and Captain Dubois; the\' had no occupation in particular. 
 
 Rattlesnakes were numerous in that section of country, 
 and it was a frequent occurrence to find one in the 
 house, and sometimes even in your bed. Captain De- 
 ment, who had been bitten two or three times, told mv fath- 
 er he did not consider them dangerous, as he had always 
 cured himself with nothing but an application of salt. My 
 cautious mother now made me carr}^ a bag of salt for all 
 that summer, but I was not bitten. 
 
 In those days captains were numerous; every man of 
 fifty was a captain ; he had either whipped a negro to death 
 or shot an Indian, or shot at one. I had a kind of distaste, 
 fear and respect for those captains — all at the same time. 
 One day Captain Dubois came from round the* hill to see 
 us, and as he had once been across the State of Jersey, m}- 
 father and he soon became fast friends, and as he gave my 
 mother a quarter of venison she was disposed to think well 
 of him. He frequently borrowed my fathers flint-lock ri- 
 fle, and we were -^.eldom without venison. After a time I 
 became used to those captains. My father frequentl\' sent 
 me round the hill on errands, say three hundred yards. — 
 Captain George had an old fusee that had lost everything 
 except flint, cock and trigger, which he gave me as apres- 
 
BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 ent. I snapped it around considerable, much to the dis- 
 pleasure of my mother, who thought I was learning the 
 use of lire-arms too soon in life, and I was compelled to re- 
 turn to Captain George, much against my will, his valua- 
 ble present, and content myself for a longer time with bow 
 and arrow, and as I came near putting out my sister's eye 
 with the arrow, it havingf struck one inch below the eveball 
 and lodged fast my enraged mother gave me a good licking 
 and burned up my bow leaving me nothing to amuse mv- 
 self with. 
 
 It was late in the fall; I was in their cabin watching Cap- 
 tain George fry venison on the coals, which he drew out. 
 I was expecting an invitation to dine when another captain 
 arrived whom I had never seen; he had a ]ug of whiskey- 
 with him. I did not like his looks; I trembled from head 
 to foot, and would have run, but he was between me and 
 the door. He looked at me once or twice, and then said: 
 " Do you know who I am ? I am Captain Ducellers ; go 
 and tell your father Captain Ducellers is here. I obe3'ed 
 with alacrity; I was only too glad to get away. I never 
 went back fearing Captain Ducellers was on a visit, till the 
 morning of the 14th of January, the day of m}^ father's 
 death. He was thirtj^-six years of age. 
 
 I was sent for help. My mother had but just risen from 
 a sick bed, having had an attack of pleuris}'. iVbout a 
 month before mv father's death, the youngest of the fam- 
 ily, an infant, died. My father and sister were buried near 
 Old Durango; the spot is now covered with timber, and 
 but few know of that resting-place of the dead, but I shall 
 alwavs tenderlv cherish the memory of a father who was 
 ever kind to his children. Captain Dubois officiated at the 
 funeral, a dozen or more being present. 
 
 A few da3'S later m}^ mother moved to Dubuque, where 
 a year after she married a man whom I shall call Squire 
 Kile. Ten years later in the same place, while hunting, I 
 found Captain Dubois cutting cordwood for Captain Par- 
 ker. It was the meeting of an old friend; inquired about 
 Captain George ; he was not much interested in the subject, 
 but told me he thought he had gone to Wisconsin or Mich- 
 igan ; thus ended the interview. Captain Ducellers, who 
 had lost a small bit off of his nose in some engagement. 
 
FORTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 and had many a battle wiih his whiskey ju<,s liad left for 
 J- arts unknown, , and was no more a terror to myself, tlio* 
 he might be living a dread to other }'outh equally as timid. 
 
 At that time many captains were arriving: some had a 
 little gold, and a few Jean Lafa^'ette's armament to guard 
 it, viz: a cutlass, bowie-knife or pistol, whose very pres- 
 ence would awe you into respect; not the neat little revol- 
 ver with which one might be pierced a number of times, 
 with even then good chances of recovery, but a solid argu- 
 ment, which would cause one to die easy. While it was 
 refreshing to see the gold piled up, yet at the same time to 
 see such a weapon as just described on one side and a huge 
 bowie or cutlass on the other, took all the pleasure away, 
 and with such surrounding 1 never remained long enough 
 to see anyone hurt tho' that did sometimes occur. 
 
 About the year 1838, a dispute arose between the peo- 
 ple of the Northwest and the vSiate of Missouri as to the 
 boundarvline; excitement ran high; two or three companies 
 were raised to tight Missouri; Squire Kile talked of en- 
 listing, but he didn't; it was amicably settled without loss 
 cf life. 
 
 At this time settlers from other places began to ftock in : 
 some crossed the river at Dubuque, others below : a few 
 brought horses, while more brought oxen. In Jackson 
 Countv, some twenty miles south of Dubuque, is a wood- 
 land territory, where are a large number of maple trees, 
 seeming to Invite the settler to the pleasant task of su- 
 gar making; game was also in abundance for the sports- 
 man; a good place to make one a home, and numbers did 
 settle there. Others did better by settling on the edge of 
 the timber and making large farms. In a short time these 
 woods became a rendesvous for horse-thieves. The settlers 
 formed a vigilance committee. Any stranger found with a 
 horse, was suspicioned, and if he could give no good ac- 
 count of himself his hour had come. Fancy yourself in a 
 new countr}^ looking for a place to reside: you are on the 
 onlv road for twenty miles (perhaps fifty) and come upon 
 a man hanging so high his heels could'nt kick dirt, with the 
 buzzards flying around him; a few miles farther on you see 
 another, and then others; you would wonder where that 
 road lead to. It had the desired elfect; the Jubusites were 
 
8 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 soon driven from the country or left of their own accord, 
 and the Happy Land o' Canaan was once more open to 
 the settlers, who soon arrived. 
 
 At this time occurred the most important period of my 
 life. Squire Kile concluded to put me to service; I had to 
 cut wood, and as the cihmney was not as large as some I 
 had the more wood to cut, and was often told to keep plen- 
 ty on hanci; I had also to feed three yoke of oxen and a 
 span of ponies not larger than a good-sized dog. In win- 
 ter we traveled three miles to the timber to make rails, and 
 in summer I drove the oxen to brake prairie. The house 
 we lived in was ver}^ similar to the one m}^ father died in, 
 but not so large, being about twelve feet square; the sec- 
 ond year a similar addition was made; it was covered with 
 clapboards and ridge poles; when it rained one might as 
 well be out doors as inside, the clapboards being so much 
 thicker on one side that it caused an additional overflow of 
 water. It seemed as though I was a god-send to Squire 
 Kile; if hunting up the oxen in the morning, I got wet to 
 the skin with the dew, it was nothing to him. I soon how- 
 ever^ learned to despise him though I stayed with him five 
 years. I soon learned to mow, hay, rake and bind after a 
 a cradle. I don't think I had more than a dollar during my 
 stay; had one Spanish quarter which I buried, and kept 
 out of circulation for a time of need. It was buried in a 
 root house where I could put my Hnger on it at any time 
 and I watched with suspicion an}^ one enter there; mother 
 particularly, lest she might discover and put it to use; as 
 for Squire Kile, had he known that I had coin, he would 
 have obtained it by force rather than lost it. I afterwards 
 had two pieces more — we called them " tipennybits " — 
 Squire Kile found but never returned them — he was not 
 Squire at this time nor for ten years after. I thought of 
 all the money the future would bring me, and such contem- 
 plation was pleasant. As the Squire had taught me work, 
 I soon became very industrious; I had a little garden, and 
 raised some onion seed, but thought before I found a pur- 
 chaser it would be a year or two old ; but I did find one pur- 
 chaser, who promised to pay; he did not sow it then, he was 
 only contemplating ; he was a tradesman, working in Po- 
 tosi Wisconsin ; he came back in the fall; I followed him all 
 
FORTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 around supposing he had a large amount of money with him, 
 and that he would leave some with me but he did not as he 
 had nothing to divide ; he excused himself about the money 
 he owed for onion seed, but agreed to pay surely next time 
 and he did, two "fipeny-bits'' — the very identical money, 
 Squire Kile never gave me any account of. William Lewis 
 was the man who bought the seed, whom I shall say more 
 about hereafter. We then li\'ed some seven miles west of 
 the village of Dubuque. About this time George Shannon 
 settled in the neighbor-hood ; George was no farmer : he had 
 been in a store a 3'ear or two, and wound up witli nothing. 
 This was the fall of 1839. ^ ^^^ worked faithfully for the 
 Squire all summer, and I conceived the idea of making a 
 stake for myself; there was a small strip of grass at the up- 
 per end of a long ravine, which we neglected to cut; it was 
 wild grass perhaps one-third flag; the frost had browned 
 it some. Thither I went with my sc3'the, and soon made 
 quite a showing ; it did not need any curing ; age and frost 
 had cured it for me; I pitched it together and the next thing 
 was to find a purchaser; after hunting around considerable I 
 thought of Shannon ; told him what a fine lot of hay I had, 
 aud as he had none I prevailed upon him to look at it. There 
 vvere perhaps two tons ; I wanted a dollar as I had worked 
 two or three days; and thought George was full of money, 
 he having been a merchant; he profered me fifty cents, 
 but just then did not have the money; rather than miss a 
 trade I let him have it; it was a bad road to George's house; 
 after a few upsets and not being very persevering George 
 concluded he had hay enough ; leaving a part of his purchase 
 behind; in a week or so I got uneasy about the money and 
 made a square demand, but he did not have it; if anybody 
 owed me any thing in those days I was careful about it, but 
 no one ever owed me any more while I stayed with the 
 Squire. It soon became rumored that George was bad pay ; 
 I called on him weekly, still no money ; he always promised 
 faithfully he would pay ; I began to call on him twice a week, 
 and waited on him faithfully three months; I watched the 
 house on Sunday: and in the middle of the week when my 
 chores were done I would visit him by night; George found 
 out that whatever he could do with others, he had better 
 settle with me, so he oflered to give me fifty cents worth of 
 
rO BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 coffee ; — some four pounds ; coffee was worth eight pouuds 
 to the dollar, and sugar twenty at that time; I consulted my 
 mother on the matter, and she advised me to take the coffee, 
 which I did, and thus George cancelled the debt. My moth- 
 er was a fine stalwart woman; she could often be seen 
 riding across the prairies on horse-back with a basket of 
 butter on one horn of the saddle and a basket of eggs on the 
 other, which she readily exchanged for groceries. In due 
 time Shannon's colTe'e was used up, and with the Squire's 
 advice I got nothing. About this time William Lewis the 
 Union Seed-man came to be more permanently with us. The 
 Squire abandoned the place where we were living and built a 
 new log house with hewn logs and plastered with lime mor- 
 tar, and a good lot of clapboards on the roof, and as he had 
 forty acres under plow began to be comfortable; he also 
 built a large log barn.. Lewis was a great help to the Squire 
 in building; he took up a claim a mile or so north-east; 
 when he worked a day for the Squire I was to work anoth- 
 er for him ; Lewis also helped in ha3ang and harvest as the 
 Squire had been raising v.'heat; Ley'is also cut a rick of 
 hay vv'ith my help. The season closed and it turned cold; 
 Lewis concluded to market his hay; I was sent along as 
 help-meet; we loaded up and started, making two upsets 
 within a mile which finished the first day; but Lewis was 
 not like George Shannon, easily discouraged: the next day 
 we did better for we went three miles farther with two more 
 upsets; this ended the second day; but we were yet three 
 miles from town. Lewis on the third dav made a new rack : 
 he found out that what might do to haul hay on the Squire's 
 farm would not do to go to Dubuque ; the new rack was 
 built so wide, that when she undertook to upset, it was no 
 go, for our sled was not more than a foot high, and with a 
 good pry, we could keep her afloat, which we did; after 
 some debate we concluded, to go down the Lang worthy 
 Hollow, which showed that our judgment was good, for we 
 arrived safe in town by one o'clock; Lewis found a pur- 
 chaser for his hay, who gave him a dollar and a half; I fol- 
 lowed him around with the expectation that he might divide, 
 but he did not; he never had much more mone}' those times 
 than myself, but this time he had a dollar and fifty cents 
 more. This was in the year '40; I was then fifteen years 
 
FORTY YEARS AGO. II 
 
 old; Lewis was over twenty, while the Squire was not 
 over twenly-four; Lewis was not larger than m3'self, whi;e 
 the Squire was over six feet three inches, straight as an ar- 
 row, but could have crawled through a large auger hole — 
 tliat is, two of them with a mortise betv»^een ; he could cradle 
 five acres of grain one day, and cut ever so much grass the 
 day following. When he got his new house and barn up 
 he became very independent, and though he was three 
 davs raising them, he never went to help his neighbors raise 
 while I staved with him, though he might have done bet- 
 ter afterwards; if anybodv came to help him I was sent 
 to pay it back as a compliment. Lewis had some tools of 
 his own", and could hew logs good and do lots of other 
 work, but could get nothing from the Squire except my- 
 self. In return Lewis began to use me to the best advan- 
 tage he could; so we went to the woods and cut wagon 
 hubs, some two or three feet long; I do not know how 
 many, but manv m.ore than he ever made up. We felled 
 much oher timber, such as oak, maple, elm, and some liick- 
 ory, which we sunk in the creek in divers places — so manv, 
 that some of the timber is under water, and seasoning yet; 
 I think I could find some that he forgot and lost. Some 
 of his wagons are running vet; I will not attempt to de- 
 scribe them, for thev are all right unless vou lose a linch- 
 pin; should anyone meet one of them on the road, he wo'd 
 much prefer giving them good lea-way rather than to run 
 risk of locking hubs. When in New Jersey, three years 
 ai^o, I saw some of the same wagons not more than five 
 miles from where Lewis learned his trade, so I knew he 
 was a skilled workman. 
 
 I now began to think seriously of leaving the Squire; 
 Lewis was my only councilor; to him I confided all mv 
 secrets, and many sorrows, and he never betrayed me, and 
 his advice was alvvavs consoling — that I better leave the 
 Squire to drive his own oxen and hunt them up. I had 
 never been allowed the use of fire-arms; the Squire had 
 repeatedly refused me, saying that a hunter never made a 
 good farmer; perhaps he was right, but his ideas were not 
 to m\^ taste; my mother also thought I better not have the 
 use of a gun, and so while game was plenty, my ambition 
 was hampered. The road to pleasure and wealth was to 
 
12 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 leave the Squire, and a 3^ear later, the spring of '42, 1 did so. 
 
 A rather ludicrous incident occurred the year before I 
 left home. The Squire and I had been plowing prairie all 
 day ; I had broken so much ground for the Squire and oth- 
 ers for whom he contracted that I had become miserable: 
 one yoke of oxen traveled very slow, and all the w^hipping 
 I could do proved of no avail in hurrying them ; I determin- 
 ed on revenge; having gone to the house the Squire left me 
 to unyoke as usual ; I then tied their tails together, think- 
 ing it would make no difference in feeding for cattle that 
 had been so slow, but it did, for each one took a start in 
 earnest; one lost about six inches of his tail; they went out 
 of my sight so quick I stood amazed; next morning I found 
 them^ the tail of one hanging on to the fastest traveler; I 
 got back to the house before the Squire w^as up, and taking 
 a butcher knife I cut it oft'. When the Squire started to 
 plow, he wondered what was the matter with his ox, he 
 bled so profusely; I told him I had seen some wolves that 
 morning, and thought they had bit it oft', but that story 
 would not take ; although he had lost some calves and pigs 
 by wolves, he could not believe his ox would be lost in the 
 same manner. I kept serious about the matter as I was 
 afraid those long arms of his would give me a castigation, 
 as I had had some experience of that kind when 1 lirst 
 came into his hands. 
 
 At this time I plowed a few furrows 'round a small part of 
 the Charley Haines farm, which I said should be mine, bnt I 
 soon after" left the Squire, and my claim fell into other 
 hands a valuable possession. But the time of my delivery 
 arrived. The Squire concluded to build a large double 
 stone chimney; I made mortar and Lew^is carried rock ; as 
 I watched the mason put stone together I longed to be a 
 mason; my mother seemed favorable to the project, and 
 finally prevailed on the Squire to let me go, although he 
 thought I better stay ; she told him my brother Judson. al- 
 though eight years younger, would soon be able to take 
 my place. The mason was willing to take me, and having 
 seen the Squire comfortable in a new. log house, a large 
 barn, and other improvements in which I had given a help- 
 ing hand, I took my departure. Lewis left soon after and 
 worked on his claim where I found him a year or two later. 
 
FORTY YEARS AGO. 1 3 
 
 The reader will please go back with me two years to our 
 home in '38. My grandfather had come from New Jersey 
 brin<rin<r some money with him to start us in a western 
 country; he left us three children tiye hundred dolhirs and 
 loanea the Squire fiye hundred more to enter his land with, 
 and that was re-paid; ours being partially returned minus 
 the interest when we became of age. My grandfather 
 stayed with us two or three wrecks ; he had been very good 
 to us, and after father's death if writing to mother, he sent 
 her a ten or twenty dollar bill. Mother did all she could 
 to make his visit pleasant; she and my uncle went with him 
 to my father's grave, and to the old house where we lived 
 when father died. In looking through the house a rattle- 
 snake's head was found sticking through the puncheon 
 floor; my uncle set up a sign, "Beware of rattlesnakes.*'— 
 Soon after my grandfather left us. My sister's death made 
 mother very loneh' as her onlv help w^as gone. 
 
 At this time Illinois discovered that sinners had left and 
 crossed the river. She determined on the rescue. Peter 
 Cartwright and a goodly number of others held a confer- 
 ence and sent one of their number across to us; I shall nev- 
 er forget him; he was a long, lank, lean, hungry looking 
 fellow, carried saddle-bags, and his horse was lank like 
 himself; he brought his testament and hymn-book, crying 
 "x\ voice in the wn'lderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord, 
 make his paths straight." In a sparseh- settled country in 
 five or six miles there may have been a dozen or more fam- 
 ilies, all godly people. Among the number were. Brothers 
 .William Morrison, Sidney Blackwell (^my uncles Wm.Stra- 
 ten. Harden Nowlen, Father Simeon Clark, Father Brady, 
 Bro. John Paul and Mother Casteele, also a family b^• the 
 name of Jordan. Other settlers lived in the neighborhood, 
 of whom I knew nothing. The good brother preached a 
 sermon every other week either at the house of Bro. John 
 Paul or Father Brady, and sometimes at Father Simeon 
 Clarks, who also was a preacher at times, of whom I shall 
 say more hereafter. We had many pleasant gatherings of 
 perhaps thirty or forty persons; occasionally a big man, 
 "Bun. Jordan," came dressed entirely in buckskin, which I 
 envied him. 
 
 When father died he left two or three suits of L*"ood 
 
1 4 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 clothes, and as I grew fast mother altered them to suit me. 
 My coat was ornamented with brass buttons which was 
 the fashion then, and as I became a regular attendant at 
 the meetings I looked upon m3'Self with glowing pride, 
 that I was better than other boys of the settlement; some 
 old women thought of me as a favorite suitor who might 
 sometime marry one of their girls, while the preacher 
 thought I might some day be a preacher like himself as I 
 vv^as dressed in a suit as good, if not better, than his own. 
 We often had refreshing revival times, principally in the 
 winter, our quarterly meetings were largely attended by 
 people from other settlements. I was a regular attendant 
 and sometimes during protracted spells of prayer, while 
 some brother would be directing the Lord I fell asleep; 
 wi h the general uprising, I awoke long enough to sleep 
 the sounder when we knelt again. Sometimes we sang 
 "Come ihou Fount of ever}- blessing;" at other times, 
 '• How tedious and tasteless the hours when Jesus no lon- 
 ger I see;" I oft times hum those tunes with pleasure yet 
 in the absence of songs such as " Yankey Duran "' or " Side 
 of the Hill." In the summer of 1838 or '39, we had a 
 camp-met ting ii a grove near Pe-er L. Sharp's place; it 
 was largely attended, many coming from Dubuque and 
 the adjacent settlements; the rain came down in torrents 
 but notwithstanding a great ou'-pouring of the spirit was 
 manifest. I was soon converted; though I was voung I 
 knew I was a sinner; the power of the Lord was so great- 
 ly kindled for miles around, that a Dutchman and an Irish- 
 man were converted — Peter Bony and Felix O'Flaherty.. 
 Peter has remained among the faithful, but alas poor Felix- 
 soon sank below his first estate, and is not. All in the 
 neighborhood were converted excep'. two or three families 
 which were looked upon as bad by their neighbors. It was 
 our cus'om in those days to watch the old year ou- and the 
 new one in,r>nd whi.^e we were fully de ermined to do better 
 the coming year I am fearful that we did worse. I watched 
 one year rut at Bro. John Paul's and the next at Father 
 Simeon Clark's; I do not know which year I did the best, 
 but I did nothing very bad. 
 
 Father Simeon Clark in those days never wore anything 
 but a red handkerchief on his head — I never saw him with 
 
FORTV YEARS AGO. 
 
 anything else and believe no one ever did. He was an ex- 
 cellent rifle-shot and a good bee-hunter; his residence some 
 ten miles west of Dubuque, was built near the head of 
 a deep vale, in a sort of horse-shoe; .good springs on either 
 side of the house went trickling down the valley some three- 
 fourths of a mile to the south fork of the Little Maquoketa, 
 whose general course was north-east, a stream so crooked 
 that were 3'Ou to follow its windings five miles you would 
 have traveled twenty-live. The hills on either side were 
 so high that no ordinar}' gun would reach to the top — if 
 there was one it was one that afterwards came into my 
 hands, of which I shall speak hereafter, but I never tried 
 it at that range. The house was situated at an altitude of 
 some six hundred feet above the level of the great Missis- 
 sippi valley. It was a heavy woodland section of country 
 for miles; a small strip of table-land had been cleared a 
 hundred feet or more above the house, and some two or 
 three yards south near the dividing ridge. Deer were 
 plenty, and black wolves were seen now and then; other 
 species ol game vv^ere very numerous, especiall}' the cata- 
 mount, and now and then the distant cry of the panther 
 could be heard; occasionally a bald eagle could be seen fly- 
 ing over or perched on some high tree in search of pre}^, 
 ; nd the dismal hoot of the owl could be heard in the twi- 
 light. Father Clark's house may have been fifteen feet by 
 twenty-five, one end nearly all chimne}', at the opposite end 
 stood two beds, puncheon floors, doors the same, roof cov- 
 ered with clapboards and ridge poies, small cock-loft over- 
 head. It was in the spring of '40, I was at the house to 
 hear him preach; puncheon benches had been brought in 
 as was" the custom, to seat all who might come; there may 
 have been twentv persons present — four or live men, some 
 long gaunt women, and the balance principally children; 
 around the fire-place hung a dozen or more great venison 
 hams swinging to and fro, drying for a time of need. Here 
 Father Clark delivered his discourse, a master^ one. I 
 have many times since listened to more eloquent discourses 
 but never to any so impressive. The reader will p mse for 
 a moment and Turn to the twelfth chapter and tweity-fiflh 
 verse, where he will find in Paul's advice to the Hebrews, 
 "See that ye refuse not him that speaketh." Father Clark 
 
i6 
 
 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 dwelt on the depravity of mankind, that all men were sin- 
 ners, and finally wound up by saying that perhaps not more 
 than two or three in that little assembly would be saved; 
 "twas a solemn time; Father Clark and Bro. John Paul 
 made two that I was sure would be saved, but as he said 
 two or three might be saved, I thought Brother Morrison 
 might.make up the three; I looked upon the balance as 
 lost: as for myself I had done nothing to merit salvation; 
 true I had given the Spanish quarter that I had hid in the 
 
 Father Simeon Clark preaching. 
 
 root house, which my grandfather had given me, for the 
 conversion of the heathen, and though I had taken the 
 preacher for my mother to cook dinner for, I gave myself 
 up for lost. I went awav firmly resolved to tell no more 
 lies about my grandfather in New Jersev, to whose prince- 
 ly fortune I would soon be sole heir. Sometime after this 
 I again attended service at Father Clark's; he was not the 
 preacher this time, but during class he told the brethren 
 that he had a remarkable vision that he would die some- 
 where about the 14th of August that year; as the time 
 was set so exact, we all watched, and though he was like 
 good old Simeon, ready and willing to die, for his eyes had 
 seen the salvation of the Lord, yet" his time had not come, 
 
FORTY YEARS AGO. 1 7 
 
 and though he had the vision of his death thirty-nine years 
 ago, I found him last summer, hale and hearty, minus the 
 handkerchief, the postmaster of the enterprising village of 
 Farley, twenty miles west of Dubuque. 
 
 Many of those good men of that day have since passed 
 away, while but few remain whose lives and example would 
 be well worthy of our imitation particularly Father Simeon 
 Clark. 
 
 Nothing else worth}' of notice occurred while I stayed 
 with the Squire. The reader wdll follow me to my city 
 home w4th Father Rogers, the mason ; I fared much better 
 in my new home; as he frequently went hunting himself, 
 he most always took me along, hi winter time I some- 
 times earned a little money by sawing wood; which I put 
 in my pocket. Some days when he made boots, he would 
 -arm me with his gun and send me out to hunt grouse, of 
 which I generally brought in a good showing. I'here was 
 not much building done in Dubuque then, two or three 
 buildings a season, but b}^ the time the first season was 
 over, I fancied no such mechanic as myself was any where ^ 
 round. About this time George Shannon came to me, and 
 said his mother was tired of the country and was coming 
 to town to live; that he wanted me to go and mend the 
 back of a chimne}- down on First street near the Cathedral ; 
 so I went down two or three ditierent evenings to work by 
 candle light; I was so pleased with my work when it was 
 done that I felt thankful to George he had applied to me, 
 and I never thought of charging him anything for it. — 
 Sometime after meeting George one day he said, " Don't I 
 owe you something?" 1 told him 1 thought not but he insist- 
 ed and oftered me tifty cents, which I took. 
 
 The second year found me with a new boss, Franklin 
 Anson, who allowed me pretty much the same privilege — to 
 hunt some and when I was not at work for him, I sawed 
 wood for others to get money, with which I generally 
 bought powder and shot. I sawed up a lot of wood for 
 one Gen. Gehon's wife (Gen. Gehon was Marshal of the 
 Territory) and carried it into her shed; the good woman 
 came of her own accord and gave me a tive-franc, worth a 
 dollar at that time. I never had such a set-up as that be- 
 fore and 1 thought her the best person that ever lived. 
 
1 8 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 ' Twas in the spring of '43 in March, the coldest winter 
 that had been known for a great many seasons before, and 
 none have been so cold since; teams crossed the river at 
 Dubuque as late as the 6th da}^ of April : old Father Mil- 
 ler ransacked his Bible from Daniel to Revelations, and 
 said the days of the world were about numbered; the tail 
 of a great comet alread}' sat upon the far side of the earth 
 which we all could see, and stood up over the western hor- 
 izon so high and lofty that it looked as though it might fall 
 on us an}' time and iDurn us up; man}' godly people had 
 their robes of ascension ready to start off as soon as the 
 alarm of fire \vas given; it was I who gave the alarm in 
 Dubuque ; I liad been casting shot in considerable quantities 
 and had made a wooden ladle, and by putting some coals 
 on top I could melt a pound or so of lead, and with an as- 
 sistant shaking a seive over a bucket of water would pour 
 .the lead on the seive; I had all sizes and kinds of shot — 
 some were flat on one side and some on both, and others 
 flat on all sides — such as I did not like I re-cast, but in the 
 absence of money I could use my own shot. Some one 
 made me a present of a gun, one which Gen. Washington 
 had taken from Lord Cornwallis. It had already crossed 
 the frontier ^and killed Tecumseh, and the Mississippi in 
 search of Blackhawk; the gun was good yet, but some 
 'smith, thinking to make an improvement upon the flint- 
 lock, on the side of the barrel where the pan of the flint- 
 lock was, made a sort of a little touch-hole, and the ham- 
 mer, a kind of prod, fell into this hole; you would raise 
 your hammer for ready, drop in a little pill, and lire; she 
 would sometimes miss the lirst time, but would generall}' 
 go oft' after two or three trials, but if you put in many lit- 
 tle pills you would stand a chance to get burned a little 
 over the eyes. 1 found one store that had some pills, put 
 up in goose quills, perhaps iifty in a quill, each pill about 
 the size of a pinhead; 1 took all that was on hand, and 
 with the opening of navigation sent to St. Louis for more. 
 During my residence with Squire Kile, Dubuque had add- 
 ed a few houses as far up as Tenth street, but none above 
 Eleventh, except James and Edward Langworthy's; a small 
 two-story frame house stood on Iowa street above Ninth, 
 side of Ex-mayor Stout's residence — it was occupied by 
 
FORTY YEARS A(;o. I9 
 
 one Marshall, a Millerite; Samuel Dixon lived on the cor- 
 ner of Main and Tenth; Dixon had enclosed three lots with 
 a ti((ht board fence of oak lumber, tive feet high, boarded 
 up endways. Abov-e Tenth 'street on the corner lived Jos- 
 eph Ogilby, and my tirst boss, Robert Rogers, lived next, 
 while Gen. Lewis lived contented by himself in a log house 
 the last in town, below Fred Moser's store. My new boss, 
 Franklin Anson, lived on Locust street, west side, one lot 
 below Tenth street. There w^ere one or two houses abo\'e 
 Tenth street, and one above and one below on BluiY street, 
 the balance being open common. I concluded to test m\- 
 new gun, and having put in a handful of powder I put in a 
 handful of shot, all sizes, part slugs; I wished to give her 
 a good trial, and thought if she could cross Locust street, 
 she would kill birds, but if she would cross the first lot one 
 hundred feet, and an alley, thirty feet more, to Dixon's 
 fence, she would kill big game, so I set up a mxark on Dix- 
 on's fence, and rested my gun on my boss' fence, raised the 
 prod and fired. It seemed as though with the discharge of 
 that ordnance, all creation round there woke up. Gen. 
 Lewis was just then taking an e^'ening walk down Main 
 street for his health ; part of the charge stopped with Dix- 
 on's fence, but the greater part went on, crossing Main 
 street every side of the General, next lot and alley and part 
 of next, fetching up against Marshall's house, breaking 
 some panes of glass in the top story windows The cries 
 of Gen. Lewis soon brought help, for he hollered lustily; 
 he reallv thought he was hurt. As soon as assistance ar- 
 rived, round Dixon's fence some five or six men went tr^•- 
 ing to find the miscreant who had fired the shot. The gun 
 upset me toward Blufi street, and though I was the most 
 hurt, I picked up the gun and run around the bluft' and hid 
 among the rocks behind where the Lorimier House now 
 stands; a young juvenile told the men who fired the gun, 
 so they gave no further chase, but entered complaint tomv 
 boss that if he did not look after me, they would. The}' 
 had scarcely gone when Marshall came round; he told my 
 boss he was on his knees at devotion when he heard the 
 shot break the windows over his head, that I ought to be 
 looked after, as he did not wish to be disturbed again, and 
 he left. I soon got cold sta3ing among the rock, and hun- 
 
20 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 ing up the boy who was with me when the shot was fired, 
 learned that Gen. Lewis was not hurt, and then ventured 
 into the house. My boss told me what threats had been 
 made, but seemed pleased that I had given them all such a 
 scare, and particularly Marshall on Millerite day. For a 
 long time I dreaded to meet Gen. Lev^'is, aitd -though I met 
 him in church everv Sabbath I always managed to sit as 
 far away as possible; when I went hunting I would go 
 up Bluff street till I got out of town. When I fired the 
 shot I supposed I was out of town, but as I had now learned 
 better I never tried ranging on Dixon's fence after Millerite 
 day. I ventured round and over the hills in quest of some 
 beast that I expected to find and slay, that it might be said 
 that I was a hero. 
 
 My boss boarded me a week or two before we were 
 ready to go to work, for I had but just commenced to live 
 with him when I fired the big shot, and as the spring came 
 slowly I concluded to go and see how the Squire and moth- 
 er were, to get board but not to work. The snow^ was yet 
 on the ground in April, '43. I knew where Wm. Lewis' 
 claim lay, and as he lived on my road going to the Squires 
 I concluded to call on him. After hunting around I struck 
 a trail w^hich led down into a ravine, and presently came 
 upon his cabin among a little clump of Burr oak trees; he 
 appeared to have settled dow^n there to keep out of the cold 
 more than anything else; he had not as yet done anything 
 permanent. I found him sick but not very bad; he was 
 waiting for somebody to die in New Jersey. After my ar- 
 rival he soon became cheerful, and as I had a grouse or 
 two we soon had a good supper of corn-bread, baked po- 
 tatoes, fried birds and pork mixed up. Being in no hurry 
 I remained with him over night; I pitied him,he was alone 
 and lonely, hardly knowing why he was there, only that he 
 Wc^. I found his axe, but the head of it was broken oft', 
 leaving about two pounds firmly clinched around the handle 
 and this he managed to cut wood with. He has since done 
 w^ell, entered a large lot of land, and is comfortable. The 
 next day I went over to the Squires, but I went shooting 
 all around the place before going to the house, so as to let 
 him know that I was a hunter and out of his jurisdiction. 
 I stayed a week or two, but was very careful about doing 
 
FORTY YEARS AGO. 21 
 
 anv work, as was m}- custom when I went to see him ; he 
 soon found out my notion, that a tradesman was something 
 better than a farmer. I did not stay long, but went to work 
 with riiy new boss, and things went along well that year. 
 I always carried my gun with me, when I got a chance to 
 go hunting , for as no one had one like her in town, I had 
 the greater pride to be the owner of so valuable a weapon, 
 but sometime after in an unguarded moment I traded her 
 off for something that was not so good. That was the 
 last I saw of her till I saw her at the U. S. government 
 building at Philadelphia in '76, but to follow her history to 
 find how she got there would be quite a task; some gov- 
 ernment agent must have been hunting up relics, and this 
 he found a valuable one. 
 
 I worked one year with one boss, the second year with 
 another, and the third year was sent home to die of con- 
 sumption, but I did not die, for I'm with you yet; the 
 Squire's mother had come west to live, and she made me 
 up a compound of liverwort and tar, and so I got well not- 
 withstanding my boss' wife said I ought to die for going to 
 sleep in church. 
 
 I now went to work for my first boss, Robert Rogers, 
 for a dollar a day, which was plenty, tho' I did not think so 
 and the next year I turned out contractor, of which I will 
 not weary the reader, giving only an instance or two. 
 There was one Matthew Hayes who had worked hard and 
 saved his dollars well; he boarded at the Squire's when I 
 first made his acquaintance, and when I went out to see my 
 mother and how the Squire was doing, Matthew would 
 follow me around and tell me he was going to build a house 
 and that I should build it for him. He bothered me so 
 much that I had hard work to slide away from him. How- 
 ever, in time he collected a lot of nigger-head rock, all sizes 
 and all shapes — ^he had dug his cellar— and true to his word 
 he came to me to build his house. He ofiered me 50 cents 
 a perch, which was the price then, and as I had not seen 
 the rock I bargained with Matthew, who was to make 
 mortar for me. I took another mason along with me. I 
 had not done much till Matthew began to find fault, take 
 up that stone and turn it the other way. I soon had a deal 
 of bother with Matthew ; for the more I turned the rock 
 
22 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 
 
 the more trouble I had with him, thus : " I like the Dutch- 
 man's work very well, but I don't like yours; and what 
 will the people be saying when my house will be falling 
 over my head." I listened to him until night, when I ask- 
 ed for a settlement, which was forthcoming, and thus end- 
 ed my contract with Matthew. * A week or two later I 
 went down out of curiosity, to see how he was getting 
 along with his house. He had got in with a mason who 
 understood his business; if there was a frame to set, he 
 set it in without asking anv questions. If Matthew came 
 around, he was told to make up mortar and carry brick, 
 and to hurry up. I went again a week or so later. Matthew 
 was carrying brick: the bricklayers gave him plent}- of 
 directions without allowing him anything to say about the 
 house, only bring on the mortar and brick. And so I was 
 hungr}- for Matthew's dollars, but didn't know how to 
 handle him to get them. 
 
 There was one Michael McGovern concluded to build 
 a house; he had collected a fine lot of dirt}' sand and 
 some brick that nobody else would have. His lot was on 
 Bluff street little above the First Ward school house. 
 Michael offered me thirteen sovereigns, which was thirteen 
 sovereigns too little, but as I wished to establish myself as 
 contractor I took the job. I had got near up with the first 
 story, when Jim Reddin came riding along, in from the 
 country. He stopped and said: '• Mr. McGovern, who 
 is this vou have building your house? Shure he is no 
 good; I know him very well; it is only last year he was 
 working with Rogers, the mason; don't depend on him; 
 turn him off;" and away went Jim in as much hurry as he 
 came. I had got too far along to be choked ofi of Mi- 
 chael's job, which was finished and is standing yet. A few 
 more such contracts as McGovern's left me in a shape to 
 dispose of a few lots on Fourteenth street, where I had in- 
 vested with the money my grandfather had left me, and 
 though I did better as a contractor later, I was strapped 
 about the first year* I came of age. In 1845 or 1846, the 
 land sales took place, when there was a general grabbing 
 up. I was about of age, but as I had nothing to grab 
 with, I still cared nothing for grabbing; but there were 
 many that did. Some claims that had been abandoned a 
 
FORTY VEARS ago, 2^ 
 
 year or two before were taken possession of l^y some new 
 comer, and though the old claimant brought in his claim 
 he seldom made it stick. Each claimant, old and new, 
 picked his arbitrator, and the claimant who was the best 
 talker generally succeeded in getting the claim. This was 
 more particularly the case with mineral lots around the 
 city. 
 
 t)ubuque after this began to grow more permanently, 
 and soon formed a nucleus around a center \\'here a great 
 city has since been built. Still a great many good people 
 refused to settle on account of the old Dubuque heirs claim 
 which w^as settled a year or two later, when man}' came to 
 reside more permanently, and many more will come as it is 
 not yet too late. 
 
 In the year '46 Florida and Iowa were admitted into the 
 Union; while Florida has done well Iowa has done better, 
 and has since become the garden of the world, but not- 
 withstanding her rapid growth to a teeming population of 
 a million and a half, the era of her great future is but just 
 commenced. 
 
 And now, lest I weary the reader I will bring this little 
 narrative to a close. Should I seem to have been too per- 
 sonal, those mentioned will pardon w^hat was really meant 
 for a compliment. Others may seem to have been slighted 
 but no slight is meant. Our common lot w^as "life, liberty 
 and the pursuit of happiness." Let me, in conclusion, re- 
 mind the reader that " Truth is stranger than hction," and 
 that this story of my bo\'hood's experience may commend 
 itself by its truth at leasl is the author's belief. 
 
 Fond memories cling around my early boyhood day, 
 
 When many a pleasure I found, in many a way. 
 
 Frail youth who careless grew to manhood's hrst estate. 
 
 Nor cared as yet to know his future fate. 
 
 The autumn came with many a bee and some irathered 
 naught but pride; 
 
 While some that were better than me laid down and died. 
 
 Spring will surely come again with lots of birds and flow- 
 ers, 
 
 And great big showers of rain fall on this world of ours; 
 
 The world goes round and round and so must you and I, 
 
 I'll not again be found, so I bid vou all good bye. 
 

.i^ic^;^-;.?^.;;5^s'^i^^''^^ V \ \ \ \ N^^-^-^^:^^-^K^\y^ 
 
 BOYHOOD LIFE 
 
 IN 
 
 lOAA^A 
 
 ^^1.^ 
 
 is FOUND IN THE 
 
 Memoirs of Rufus Rittenhouse. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 PRICE, 15 cents. 
 
 DUBUQUE, IOWA. 
 
 I'llAS. IJ. DORR, HOOK AM) jOH I'KIM KR, 
 
 iSSo. 
 
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