Let's feel the years slipping backward until about 1850. Across the vast
fertile region of Illinois comes a prairie schooner containing a forlorn-looking
immigrant with his wife and family, which consisted of baby sister, brother and
myself, then a lad of fourteen, and the sole survivor left to relate this event.
We came from the state of Ohio about 1850, making the trip with one ox
team and one horse team. We were met by a family who had moved to Illinois a few
years previous, and had taken up a grant of land near where we planned to make
camp for the night. They were delighted to see us and insisted that we share
their home with them until we built, which was gladly accepted. As nightfall was
rapidly overtaking us and we were all tired, we started to arrange our beds in
our wagons, but nothing would do but we must sleep in the house, which was only
16x18 in size. So after supper, which consisted of dried vegetables and a little
game we Wl killed along the way, we prepared to retire. It was agreed that the
old folks should sleep on the upper standposts, as they were called, the girls
should sleep on the trundle beds below, and my brother and I were to bring in
our bed out of the wagon and spread it lengthwise on the floor. In a very short
time we were all asleep and remained in unbroken slumber through the night.
It has been our dream for a long time to take up forty acres of the fertile
Illinois soil, and my father decided to take up the forty acres east of our
neighbor, which proved to be in La Salle county, Osage township, near where
Wenona now stands. He was attracted to this snot because of the level plains and
fertile fields. The plain was covered with green grass, which made it look like
a green sea. We made plans for building our house, which was about 16 by 24
feet, and about seven feet high, with a floor, one door and two windows. It was
boarded up and down and well battened. It had a fireplace at one end which
burned wood, hauled from the timber near Streator. It was warm and comfortable,
and we loved it very much for it was home.
If you could have looked into
our home while the door was ajar one would have seen a picture similar to this:
The furniture which we had consisted of three three-legged stools, three
four-legged ones four feet long, and one table — all made of split timbers. The
musical instruments were a spinning-wheel, instead of a piano, and the loom,
instead of the organ, and a fiddle.
Whenever we were short of supplies
my father would hitch up his team to Irs wagon and start out for the village.
Soon we found it was necessary to make a trip to the mill to get our
cornmeal ground. The first mill of this community was not in Osage township. It
stood .on the banks of the Prairie creek in the village of Ancona, in Livingston
county (Redding township), about four miles east of here. There was a dam and a
waterwheel. We had all our grinding done there for many years. It ground with
two large millstones, one turning on the other, crushing the grain. Those old
stones still lie on the banks of the creek at the site of the old mill, the mill
having been moved to Streator many years ago.
When we got the cornmeal
and my mother baked it, with perhaps some pumpkin in it, it made a dish fit for
a prince, especially as we had plenty of milk from our cows and had only to go
into the woods to get our meat — venison, prairie chickens and wild ducks. With
us, even in the pioneer days, the land flowed "with milk and honey."
The
first year we broke twenty acres of prairie sod and planted it to sod corn,
which made a good yield. This was done with a very rude-looking wooden plow
which my father had purchased on one of his previous trips to Chicago. The next
year we planted that ground to wheat and it made forty bushels per acre. This
wheat was hauled to Ottawa to market, it taking about three days to make the
trip. With the money my father purchased groceries and clothing for the family.
For firing we used wood, which we got from the timber along the Vermillion
river. We were happy and contented in -our new home.
We were getting new
neighbors every day. Some settlers stopped there because of the good soil, while
others stopped because they were tired and could not go on without more expense
and trouble. My father sold all his surplus stock, grain and horses to the new
settlers coming in. They paid very well for them, as that was the only way they
could get supplies.
There were many wild deer and plenty of prairie
wolves, which we killed whenever they came near our home. We had cattle, hogs
and sheep, which we had to pen up every night. We had two large dogs, which we
called "Sanco" and "Lyon." They always stood guard around our home, and they
killed many wolves.
We burned off the prairie grass around our home
every fall to protect it against prairie fires. Whenever we wanted meat I took
my gun and went out, got some prairie chickens, wild ducks, and once in a while
a deer.
These conditions soon changed, as our neighbors, who were also
from the eastern states, soon had many herds of cattle running at large on the
prairie. Then the land which we farmed had to be fenced to keep the cattle from
destroying the crops. It was many years before there was any law passed to
protect the early settlers from cattle running at large.
Neighbors and
friends were coming on so surprisingly thick that Wenona, the first and only
town of the community, was fast becoming a thriving village and a good market
for wood, as the I. C. railroad burned wood in its engines in those days. In the
winter-time the farmers were employed in hauling coal from the Vermillion river
near Streator and loading it in cars in Wenona, where it was snipped northward.
Wenona, our little village, was thriving rapidly. Everybody was excited. It had
a post office, a general store and a blacksmith shop. The buildings were rudely
put up by some of the men around there. Everybody was so pleased now by having
the mail come and go so fast — by stagecoach. It was drawn by several horses.
Wenona was doing a thriving business.
But as the years progressed, times
were changing and we were advancing with them. We made many improvements on our
farm, were raising large crops and had a fine orchard.
Now, let's skip
ahead and compare. This 1932, about eighty years since this lone immigrant made
his way across the Illinois land in his prairie schooner to the very spot where
I now live. If you were to visit this same spot now one would see a very
different picture. All that remained of our first house has been removed, and in
its place stands a large, modern brick home, equipped with electric lights and
all other conveniences. A beautifully paved state road runs by the door. With
the telephone, the radio, and the electric lines of the Public Service Company,
our home is equal to that of the city dweller. Any member of the family can be
at church or at high school in ten or fifteen minutes.
Osage is now one
of the greatest agricultural townships in the county of La Salle. The greatest
improvement made in the land was tile drainage. With its level land and fertile
soil, beautiful homes and hard roads, it ranks second to none in the state.
Extracted 08 Nov 2018 by Norma Hass from Stories of Pioneer Days in La Salle County, Illinois, by Grammar Grade Pupils, published in 1932, page 33.
| Lee | DeKalb | Kane |
| Bureau |
 |
Kendall |
| Putnam | Grundy | |
| Marshall | Woodford | Livingston |
