Chapter Twenty Five

EARLY OX ROASTS - MISSIONARIES FOLLOWED EARLY SETTLERS.

In the early days an ox roast was counted a great event. This luxury was only announced on occasions when the interest was at the highest pitch and a great crowd was expected. Our younger readers may be interested to know some of the particulars of such an event: we give them as they came to us from an enthusiastic pioneer, who participated in these occasions. A local committee where the feast was held had charge of the details. The day preceding the roast a trench was dug some ten or twelve feet long, four or five feet wide and as many deep. On the night previous, or early the next morning, a fire was built in this trench and kept burning until a heavy bed of coals was formed at the bottom. Then the ox was killed and dressed and cut up into pieces of convenient size, then laid on bars of iron which were placed across the trench over the bed of coals. The master of this part of the service watches the beef while it roasts, turning it with a pitchfork. When thoroughly cooked it is placed on improvised tables and everyone present was welcome to help themselves.

Such a banquet as this was held on July 3, 1853, Independence Day coming on Sunday. It was made the occasion of the laying of the corner stone of the old Normal School building, as well as a Fourth of July celebration. Ferris Goodwin superintended the ox roast on this occasion. His son, James Goodwin, who lives near Rose Hill, has a distinct recollection of the event. Two thousand five hundred people are said to have been present and the event was considered the beginning of better things in an educational way for Oskaloosa. M. T. Williams read the Declaration of Independence and William Loughridge and W. H. Seevers were the orators of the day. After dinner there were numerous toasts and responses, among which were the following: "Here's to the goose that grew the quill that wrote the Declaration of Independence," M. T. Williams; "May the toper's bottle speedily be broken and the cause of temperance thrive," by S. S. Stewart. It might be well to state that the use of the steel pen is quite a modern invention. Our fathers did all of their writing with a goose quill.

Fifty and sixty years ago all cattle ran out on the prairie. Milk cows usually wore a bell. The blacksmith who could make cow bells added many a shilling to his income. All stock was marked in some peculiar way, generally in the ear-smooth crop, swallow fork, upper bit, under bit or round hole. All of these marks were recorded by the owners with the township clerk, who settled all disputes with reference to the ownership of the stock. There was but one market a year for hogs and that was during the winter months. They were then collected in large droves and driven to the river. Generally to Burlington or Keokuk. They were sold by weight and had to be weighed with a large pair of steelyards. Each hog had to be handled separately. Breeching was improvised to place around the hog and this was hooked to a chain or rope which was fastened to a sweep like those used in lifting a bucket of water from the well. When everything was ready the weigher said: "Hog up," and up he went until he was ordered down. The weight being ascertained, was recorded, and so the work went on until the weight of each bunch was known and turned into the drove. The accommodations for caring for stock on the road were poor, and the owner had often to spend the night with his hogs to keep them from freezing to death.

In Mahaska county, as in almost all parts of the world, the American missionary followed close on the heels of the first settlers. One of these young men was B. A, Spaulding of sacred memory. In 1866 he was county superintendent in Wapello county and gave the author his first certificate as a teacher in that year. A. J. Comstock says that in 1843, shortly after his father's family had settled in the county, a young man, who was a missionary of the Presbyterian church, came to their home. His father's family all belonged to that church and gave the stranger a cordial welcome. Just at that time his father had gone to Bonaparte to mill, and they were entirely without bread. His mother sent him two and a half miles to a neighbor who lived across the river to borrow some flour. He made the trip afoot, crossing the river on a large drift, but returned without any flour. There was none to be had. Then his resourceful mother went to the bran barrel and, carefully sifting a part of its contents, she obtained a sufficient quantity of pretty good flour to supply bread for the hungry missionary. While that would hardly be possible now, it was then, because of the less perfect method of bolting the flour.

In all great movements for the onward march of civilization the names of the real heroes are often lost sight of until the jostling of the years brings them to the surface. In August, 1843, the Methodist Episcopal conference met at Dubuque. The New Purchase had been open for settlement three months. This conference decided to establish two missions in the new territory and to send young men to occupy the field. The whole district was called the Des Moines River District and extended from Farmington as far northwest as there were any settlements. At that time there was a dearth of names in this region and the name given to the field which afterward became Mahaska county was Muchakinock Mission. The name of the young man assigned to this mission was Joseph T. Lewis. He was the first Methodist preacher, if not the very first herald of the cross, who ever looked after his scattered flock in this new region. Mr. Lewis was a graduate of Woodward College, Cincinnati, Ohio. Trained as he was in the more polished life of the east, he was illy qualified for the hardships and exposure of missionary life in a new country. But he was not wanting in an unselfish and heroic spirit which was willing to endure hardness as a good soldier of Christ.

He came on to the field assigned him and did his work faithfully until late in the fall of that year. He was without a home. The settlements were scattered and the cabins were all small. He had often to swim streams, picket his horse and camp out on the wild prairies with scanty food and covering. It began to tell on his health and his presiding elder, Henry Summers, sent him to Iowa City to teach in a school which the church was fostering there. This was more agreeable to this training and culture. He remained in Iowa city a few years and then returned to his home in Cincinnati, broken in health. He lingered for a time and then went down to a premature grave from exposure while at work in the Muchakinock Mission. So the obituary announcing his death stated. It is a pathetic story of a young man who brought his contribution to the new west. We do not know that he organized a single church, but no human wisdom can measure the Influence of the seed sown on that virgin soil. He willingly gave his life in the sowing, and his name should be held in sacred memory by his brethren of another generation. Mr. Lewis was succeeded in his work in what the old records of Dubuque conference called the Muchakinock Mission, by Allen Johnson, who organized the first Methodist Episcopal church in Oskaloosa on October 13, 1844.

In the pioneer days the handling of money was quite a problem for the settler who was fortunate enough to have a sufficient quantity for his actual needs in securing a homestead. The modern banking system was then unknown, and impractical in the west. Some interesting stories are  told of the means resorted to in order to prevent robbery and preserve the cumbersome coin. E. D. Chew came to Oskaloosa from New Jersey in the spring of 1844 and landed from the boat at Keokuk late in the evening. For convenient handling he had placed $3,000 in silver and gold coin in a keg and headed it up. He found it almost impossible to take personal charge of his treasure for the night and reluctantly left his ducats lying over night on the wharf with the other household stuff. At the lot sale in Oskaloosa that year he purchased the comer lot southeast of the square, now occupied by the Bertsch-Shurtz drug store, paying there for $50. He took a claim of several hundred acres northwest of the fair grounds, covering two farms, now owned by A. E. Caldwell and Fred Butler, which he retained and occupied most of his lifetime. The Caldwell farm changed hands recently at $125 per acre, and Mr. Butler paid $175 per acre for his attractive homestead.

Wesley Mettler was one of the industrious citizens of Oskaloosa in the earlier years. He was somewhat eccentric, but not wanting in persistent economy. At one time when his frugality had rewarded him with several hundred dollars in silver coin, he deposited it for safe keeping an old iron teakettle in the back shed kitchen. One morning he was chagrined to find that some thief with a vein of generosity in his nature had relieved him of just one-half of his treasure. Some years afterward he found himself custodian of more than $2,000 in gold coin. He owned a good sized farm at that time, just northwest of where the first ward school buiiding is now located. With his usual caution he sought a secure hiding place for his hard earnings. This time he secreted the yellow metal under a near-by hay-stack where he was sure no one but himself would think of looking for money. Occasionally he slipped cautiously over to the place to experience the peculiar satisfaction there is in handling a much prized treasure. All unconscious to himself, his movements attracted attention and one night his money was stolen. This seemed more than he could bear, and he mentioned his loss to a few of his friends, among them ex-Sheriff Dan Swearingen. To him he gave every clue of which he had any knowledge, and offered him one-half of the beautiful gold pieces if he would by any means secure the money. He did not care for the thief. Mr. Swearingen was not long unraveling the mystery and the money was restored. Hard as it was to part with the coin, the division was made. A thousand dollars was a dear lesson, but Mr. Mettler was exceedingly pleased to have recovered so generous a portion of his earnings with which to begin his old business again.