my father shot. It was very fat and juicy and as we had not had any meat
but ducks and prairie chickens in two years, it tasted very delicious. I
have counted thirty-four deer in the swamps at one time near our house;
they were so abundant. We lived the first winter in Wayzata on fish,
venison and corn meal and I have never lived so well.
I was sixteen years old before I ever had a coat. We wore thick shirts
in the winter and the colder it was, the more of them we wore. In the
east, my mother had always spun her own yarn and woven great piles of
blankets and woolen sheets. These were loaded in the wagon and brought
to our new home. When there was nothing else, these sheets made our
shirts. We never wore underclothing, but our pants were thickly lined.
My mother was a tailoress and that first year in Minnesota we could not
have lived if it had not been for this. She cut out and made by hand all
kinds of clothing for the settlers. My father used to buy leather and
the shoemaker came to the house and made our shoes.
One spring we had a cellar full of vegetables that we could not use, so
father invited all the squaws who lived near us to come and get some.
They came and took them away. In the cellar also was a keg and a two
gallon jug of maple vinegar. Cut Nose, one of the finest specimens of
manhood I have ever seen, tall, straight and with agreeable features in
spite of the small piece gone from the edge of one nostril, was their
chief, and came the next day with a large bottle, asking to have it
filled with whiskey. Father said he had none, but Cut Nose said he knew
there was a jug and keg of it in the cellar. Father told him to go and
take it if he found any. He sampled first the jug and then the keg with
a most disgusted expression and upon coming upstairs threw the bottle on
the bed and stalked out. This maple vinegar was made from maple sugar
and none could be better.
Cut Nose was often a visitor at our home. He was a great brag and not
noted for truth telling. He was very fond of telling how he shot the
renegade Inkpadutah. This was all imagination. He had an old flint lock
musket with the flint gone and would illustrate his story by crawling
and skulking, generally, to the great delight of the boys. One rainy day
my mother was sick and was lying in her bed which was curtained off from
the rest of the living room. As Cut Nose, who did not know this, told
his oft repeated story, illustrating it as usual, he thrust his gun
under the curtains and his face and shoulders after it to show how he
shot the renegade chief from ambush. My mother dashed out with a shriek,
but was no more frightened than Cut Nose, at the apparition of the white
squaw.
One day my brother and I took a peck of potatoes each and went to an
Indian camp to trade for two pairs of moccasins, the usual trade. We
left the potatoes with the squaws for a moment and ran outside to see
what some noise was. When we returned there were no potatoes to be seen
and no moccasins to be traded. We began looking about but could see
nothing. The fire was burned down well and was a glowing bed of coals in
its depression in the center of the tepee. After a while, one of the old
squaws went to the ashes and digging them with a stick, commenced to dig
out the potatoes. As the fire was about four feet in diameter, the usual
width, there was plenty of room for our half bushel of potatoes. They
gave us some of them which had a wonderful flavor, but we never got any
moccasins.
Among the Indians living at the lake one winter was a white child about
three years old. My father tried to buy her, but they would not let her
go or tell who she was. They left that part of the country later, still
having her in their possession.
If it had not been for ginseng in Minnesota, many of the pioneers would
have gone hungry. Mr. Chilton of Virginia came early and built a small
furnace and drying house in Wayzata. Everyone went to the woods and dug
ginseng. For the crude product, they received five cents a pound and the
amount that could be found was unlimited. It was dug with a long narrow
bladed hoe and an expert could take out a young root with one stroke. If
while digging, he had his eye on another plant and dug that at once, he
could make a great deal of money in one day. An old root sometimes
weighed a half pound. I was a poor ginseng digger for I never noticed
quickly, but my father would dig all around my feet while I was hunting
another chance. The tinge of green of this plant was different from any
other so could be easily distinguished. When we sold it, we were always
paid in gold. After ginseng is steamed and dried, it is the color of
amber.
Mrs. Leroy Sampson--1854.
Six families of us came together from Rhode Island and settled on
Minnewashta Lake in '54. There was only a carpenter shop in Excelsior.
We spent the first few months of our stay all living together in one log
shack which was already there. The first night the man who had driven us
from St. Paul sat up all night with his horses and we none of us slept a
wink inside that little windowless cabin on account of a noise we heard.
In the morning we found it was the mournful noise of the loons on the
lake that had kept us awake, instead of the wolves we had feared.
Mrs. Anna Simmons Apgar--1854.
When our six families got to the springs near Excelsior it was near dark
and we struck the worst road we had found in the swampy land by it. The
mosquitoes were dreadful, too. How dreadful, no one today can ever
believe. One of the tiredout men said, "This is Hell!" "No," said
another, "Not Hell, but Purgatory." The spring took its name from that.
When my father had put up his cabin he made our furniture with his own
hands out of basswood. He made one of those beds with holes in the side
piece for the ropes to go from side to side instead of our springs of
today. They used to be very comfortable. When father got ready for the
rope he had none, so he made it by twisting basswood bark. Then mother
sewed two of our home spun sheets together for a tick and my uncle cut
hay from the marsh and dried it, to fill it and we had a bed fit for a
king. Our floor was of maple split with wedges and hewed out with a
broadax. Father was a wonder at using this. A broadax was, you know,
twelve or fourteen inches wide and the handle was curved a little. A man
had to be a man to use one of these. It took strength and a good trained
eye to hew timber flat with one of these axes.
When I was playing I tore my clothes off continually in the woods.
Finally my mother said, "This has gone far enough!" and made me a blue
denim with a low neck and short sleeves. Has anyone ever told you how
terrible the mosquitoes were in the early days? Think of the worst
experience you ever had with them and then add a million for each one
and you will have some idea. My little face, neck, arms, legs and feet
were so bitten, scratched and sunburned that when I was undressed I was
the most checkered looking young one you ever saw. Those parts of me
might have been taken from a black child and glued on my little white
body.
Such huge fish as overrun the lakes you have never seen. We thought the
Indians numerous and they had fished for ages in those lakes, but they
only caught what they wanted for food. It took the white men with their
catching for sport to see how many they could catch in one day, and
write back east about it, to clean out the lakes.
Father hewed a big basswood canoe out of a log. Eight people could sit
comfortably in it as long as they did not breathe, but if they did, over
she went! We used to have lots of fun in that old canoe just the same
and the fish got fewer after it came into commission.
When we six families first came we were all living in one little cabin
waiting for our homes to be built and our furniture to come. One of the
women was very sick. Dr. Ames came out to see her and cured her all
right. It took a day to get him and another day for him to get home. He
wanted to wash his hands and my aunt, who was used to everything, said
she thought she would drop dead when she had to take him the water in a
little wooden trough that father had hewed out. He made such cute little
hooded cradles for babies, too, out of the forest wood.
Mrs. Newman Woods--1854, Excelsior.
When we made our tallow dips or rough candles, we took the candlewicking
and wound it around from our hand to our elbow, then cut it through. We
held a short stick between our knees and threw one of these wicks around
it, twisting it deftly, letting it hang down. When we had filled the
stick, we would lay it down and fill another until we had wicks for
about ten dozen dips. My mother would then fill the wash-boiler
two-thirds full of water and pour melted deer or other tallow on top of
this. Two chairs had been placed with two long slats between them. She
would dip one stick full of wicks up and down in the boiler a number of
times, then place it across the slats to cool. This was continued until
all the wicks were dipped. By this time, the first would have hardened
and could be dipped again. We would work hard all day and make eight or
ten dozen dips. Later we had candle molds made of tin. We would put a
wick in the center where it was held erect and then pour these molds
full of tallow and let them harden. Later the molds were dipped in hot
water and then a spring at the side, pushed the candle out. This was
very simple.
We had our first kerosene lamp in '61. We were terrible frightened of
it. It did smell terrible but this did not keep us from being very proud
of it.
Once mother was frying pancakes for supper. A number of Indians going by
came in and saw her. They were all painted or daubed. They kept reaching
over and trying to get the pancakes. Finally one of them stuck out his
leg acting as if it was broken. I ran madly to the back clearing where
father and uncle Silas were working and told them there were Indians
trying to get our pancakes and that one of them had a broken leg. They
were not frightened for they knew the Indians and their customs. I just
waited to see father give them a pancake apiece and that leg settle down
naturally, then ran and got under the bed.
The Indians were very fond of father who had a very heavy beard. It used
to be stylish to shave the upper lip. The Indians used to watch him
shave with great interest. The neighborhood was full of them, generally
all painted for the war dance. They used to bother father to death
wanting to be shaved. One morning he did shave one of them and you never
saw such a proud Indian, or more disgusted ones than those who were left
out. Nearly all of the Indians who came were Sioux and fine looking.
One of the greatest pests to the pioneers around here was the thousand
legged worms. They were very thick around where we were and very
poisonous. My little sister nearly died from getting one in her mouth
when she was lying on a quilt on the floor.
Mother used to make mince pies by soaking pumpkin in vinegar. We dried
the wild grapes for raisins. My, but those pies were good. Everybody
bragged on "Aunt Hannah's mince pies."
My father and brother frequently went hunting for deer. They used to run
their bullets, which were round, by melting lead in a ladle in the
stove. Such a looking kitchen as they would leave! Ashes from the ladle
all over everything. It wasn't much of a trick to shoot deer, they were
so thick and so tame. They used to come right near the house. I did not
like venison for it seemed to me like eating a friend.
All six of us families used to wash at the lake in summer. We used soft
soap that we made ourselves and boiled the clothes in a big kettle. They
were beautifully white.
Mr. Chester L. Hopkins--1854, Hopkins.
When I was a little boy we had a grindstone in our yard which was used
by us and our few scattered neighbors. One night we were awakened by
hearing the grindstone going, and father went to the door to see who was
using it. A party of forty Sioux braves on their ponies were standing
around, while some of the braves ground their knives which each in his
turn put in his belt. It was a bright moonlight night and we could see
them as plainly as if it was day. The Indians were in full war paint and
feathers and after their task was accomplished, rode one after the other
over the hill where they stood out like black silhouettes, and finally
disappeared. They were probably going to a war dance.
Miss Florinda Hopkins--Hopkins.
When I was a little girl a number of Indians came in on a rainy day, and
tired from a long tramp, lay asleep on the floor of the kitchen. The
party consisted of a chief and seven braves. My mother was making dried
apple pies. When she had finished, she cut two of them into six pieces
each and gave each Indian a piece which he ate with the greatest relish.
All of them kept a watchful eye on the remaining pieces which they
regarded wistfully. The chief with a noble gesture motioned them all to
leave the house and remained himself. As soon as they were outside he
motioned for the rest of the pie and ate it all with the greatest relish
while the rest of the band looked enviously through the window. Were
these not, indeed, children?
I remember a Sioux war party of ten or more going by our house,
returning from a war dance at Shakopee. They were doing their war song
business as they trotted along and swinging one pitiful scalp on a pole.
Their battles were generally like this. Ten was a small number to kill
one Chippewa. When the Chippewa retaliated they would go in the same
proportion.
One morning a party stopped here. They were very tired. Had probably
trotted a long, long way for their endurance was wonderful. They just
said "Chippewa?" and as soon as they knew we had seen none were flying
on again.
We often traded food with the Indians as well as giving it to them,
allowing them to make their own terms. They would bring a pair of fancy
beaded moccasins and trade them for six doughnuts.
Mrs. J. W. Ladd--1854.
I remember seeing and hearing the Red River carts as they passed through
St. Anthony. The cart was almost square with posts standing up along the
sides to hold the furs which were piled high above the cart and roped
down in place. There was one swarthy man to five or six ox drawn carts.
He was dressed in a coonskin cap or broad brimmed hat with buckskin
trousers and jumper. He had a knit bright colored sash about his waist
and his hat had a bright colored band.
One day my mother was sitting sewing while I was playing about the room,
when the light seemed obscured. We looked up to see a number of Indian
faces in the window. They made motions to mother to trade her earrings
for moccasins and failing in this, they asked for the bright colored
tassels which hung from the curtain. They also very much admired my
mother's delaine dress which was of triangles in blue, red, black and
white. When refused they went away peaceably but afterwards often
returned trying to make a trade.
Mrs. C. H. Pettit--1854, Minneapolis.
In 1854 I attended church in the Tooth-pick church. This was a small
church so called from its high, narrow tower. I had never seen Indians
as we had just moved to town. I was walking along through the woods on
what is now Fourth street when I was surrounded by yelling, painted
Indians on ponies. Seeing that I was frightened nearly to death they
continued these antics, circling round, and round me, whooping and
yelling, until I reached my home. Then they rode rapidly away
undoubtedly taking great pleasure in the fright they had given the
Paleface.
Mrs. Anna Hennes Huston--1854.
I moved to St. Anthony in 1854. I was only a tiny tot but used to go
with my brother along a path by the river to find our cow. We usually
found her in the basement of the university.
The roaring of the Falls used to scare me and if the wind was in the
right direction we would be all wet with the spray.
I remember that at one time in the early days, potatoes were very
scarce. My mother traded a wash dish full of eggs for the same amount of
potatoes.
Mr. Henry Favel--1854.
With my family I lived thirty miles from Carver. My father died and as I
had no money to buy a coffin, I made it myself. I had to walk thirty
miles for the nails. The boards were hand hewed and when the coffin was
made, it looked so different from those we had seen, in its staring
whiteness, that we took the only thing we had, a box of stove blacking,
which we had brought from the east with us and stained the coffin with
this.
I walked twenty miles for potatoes for seed and Paid $3.00 a bushel for
them. I brought them home on my back. I was three days making the
journey on foot.
The wages for a carpenter at this time were $30.00 a month and found.
Mrs. Rebecca Plummer--1854.
We came to Brooklyn Center in 1854. Mr. Plummer's father had come in '52
and had taken a claim.
We did enjoy the game, for we had never had much. Pigeons were very
thick. We used to stake nets for them almost touching the ground. Under
these we scattered corn. They would stoop and go in under and pick up
the grain. When they held their heads erect to swallow the corn, their
necks would come through the meshes of the net and they could not
escape.
I saw the Winnebagoes taken to their river reservation. They camped a
night on the island in the river and went through all the dances they
knew and made every noise they knew how to make. The most wonderful
sight though was to see that vast flotilla of canoes going on the next
morning. There were hundreds of them with their Indian occupants,
besides the long procession on foot.
Mrs. C. A. Burdick--1855.
We came to what is now St. Cloud settling near the junction of the
Little Sauk and Mississippi. The Sauk was a beautiful little river. The
strawberries were very sweet, a much nicer flavor than tame ones. The
prairie was covered with them.
The Winnebagoes who had lived on Long Prairie were transferred to their
new home and we went to take care of the agency buildings they had left.
There were from seventy-five to a hundred of these buildings. Franklin
Steele and Anton Northrup owned them. We were awfully lonesome but we
braved it out. The Indians were always coming and demanding something to
eat. They were always painted and had bows and arrows with them. They
would everlastingly stand and look in the windows and watch us work. We
were so used to them that we never noticed them, only it was troublesome
to have the light obscured.
Have I ever seen the Red River carts? My! I should say I have! Seen them
by the hundred. My husband had charge of a fur store for Kittson at
Fort Garry, now Winnipeg and we lived there. I used to go back and forth
to St. Cloud where my parents lived with this cart train for protection.
The drivers were a swarthy lot of French half breeds. Likely as not
their hair would be hanging way down. They wore buckskin and a fancy
sash. Sometimes a skin cap and sometimes just their hair or a wide hat.
A tame enough lot of men, fond of jigging at night. They could hold out
dancing. Seemed to never tire.
Their carts had two wheels, all wood and a cross piece to rest the
platform on. This platform had stakes standing way up at the sides. They
were piled high with goods, furs and skins going down and supplies
coming back. I can shut my eyes and see that quaint cavalcade now. Where
are all those drivers?
The tracks were wide and deep and could be plainly seen ahead of us
going straight through the prairie. It took twenty-one days to go from
St. Cloud to Pembina. We used to go through Sauk Center, just a hotel or
road house, then through what is now Alexandria. A family by the name of
Wright used to keep a stopping place for travelers. I don't know just
where it would be now, but I have stayed there often. We went by way of
Georgetown. Swan river, too, I remember. There used to be one tree on
the prairie that we could see for two days. We called it Lone Tree.
Mr. Peter Cooper--1855.
I moved to Vernon Center in the early fifties. I had never worn an
overcoat in New York state, but when I came to Minnesota particularly
felt the need of one. The second year I was here, I traded with an
Indian, two small pigs for a brass kettle and an Indian blanket. Without
any pattern whatever, my wife cut an overcoat from this blanket and
sewed it by hand. This was the only overcoat I had for four years, but
it was very comfortable.
When I was in the Indian war in 1862 I had no mittens and suffered
greatly for this reason. In one of the abandoned Norwegian homes, I
found some hand made yarn, but had no way to get it made into mittens. I
carved a crochet hook out of hickory and with this crocheted myself
gloves with a place for every finger, although I had never had any
experience and had only watched the women knit and crochet.
Mr. Stephen Rochette--1855, St. Paul.
Indians used often to stop to get something to eat. They never stole
anything and seemed satisfied with what we gave them. We were on the
direct road from Fort Snelling to St. Paul. It was made on the old trail
between those two places. This went right up Seventh Street. The Indians
often brought ducks and game to sell.
I used to shoot pigeons and prairie chickens on what is now Summit
avenue.
I used to make cushions for Father Revoux's back. He had rheumatism very
badly. He used to go by our house horseback. I wanted to give him the
cushions but he would never take anything he did not pay for.
I bought a number of knockdown chairs in Chicago all made by hand for
$125 and sold them for much more. Those chairs would last a lifetime.
The parts were separate and packed well. They could be put together
easily.
Mrs. Stephen Rochette--1855.
When we first came into St. Paul in 1855 we landed on the upper levee.
It was used then more than the lower one. We thought we could never get
used to the narrow, crooked streets. We lived with my father, Jacob
Doney, where the Milwaukee tracks now cross Seventh Street.
We soon had three cows. We never had any fence for them, just turned
them out and let them run in the streets with the other cows and pigs.
Sometimes we could find them easily. Again we would have a long hunt.
Mrs. James A. Winter--1855.
We came to Faribault in 1855. My father had the first frame hotel there.
The Indians had a permanent camp on the outskirts of the village. I was
a small girl of sixteen with very fair skin, blue eyes and red cheeks.
The squaws used to come to the house asking for food, which mother
always gave them. "Old Betts" was often there. A young Indian, tall and
fine looking used to come and sit watching me intently while I worked
about the house, much to my discomfort. Finally one day he came close to
me and motioned to me to fly with him. I showed no fear but led the way
to the kitchen where there were others working and fed him, shaking my
head violently all the time. He was the son of a chief and was hung at
Mankato.
Mrs. George E. Fisher--1855.
Mother's name was Jane de Bow. Her father and mother were French. She
came to Minnesota with the Stevens' in 1834 when she was seven years
old. They were missionaries and when their own daughter died induced
Jane's family to let them have her. The Indians were always sorry for
her because her mother was away. They called her "Small-Crow-that-was
Caught". Mrs. Stevens never could punish her for it made the squaws so
angry.
The first Indian child my mother ever saw was a small boy who stood on
the edge of Lake Harriet beckoning to her. She was afraid at first but
finally joined him and always played with the Indian children from that
time.
The Stevens' the next year had a little school near their cabin not far
from where the pavilion is now. The Indian children always had to have
prizes for coming. These prizes were generally turnips. Often they gave
a bushel in one day.
In 1839 some Chippewa Indians ambushed a Sioux father who was hunting
with his little son. The child escaped and told the story. The Sioux
went on the warpath immediately and brought home forty or fifty
Chippewa scalps. They had been "lucky" as they found a camp where the
warriors were all away. They massacred the old men, women and children
and came home to a big scalp dance. My mother had played with the Indian
children so much that she was as jubilant as they when she saw these
gory trophies. She learned and enjoyed the dance. She taught me the
Sioux words to this scalp dance and often sang them to us. Translated
they are:
You Ojibway, you are mean,
We will use you like a mouse.
We have got you and
We will strike you down.
My dog is very hungry,
I will give him the Ojibway scalps.