Pioneers of Marion County by Wm. M. Donnel, 1872

Chapter IV

Going to Mill - Tally’s Ford - Origin of Roads - First Roads Located - Returning from Mill

But when breadstuffs were needed, they had to be obtained from the “Old Purchase,” and hauled, mostly by ox teams, a distance from sixty to eighty miles; some had to go even as far as Burlington to get a supply of wheat and corn and have it milled. Wheat could be had at fifty cents per bushel; cheap enough compared with present prices, but dear enough then considering the scarcity of money, the inferiority of the grain and the distance it had to be hauled. Owing to the want of proper means of threshing and cleaning it, wheat was more or less mixed with foreign substances, such as dirt, smut and oats. The price of corn was from fifty to seventy-five cents per bushel. It was mostly bought in the ear, and shelled by the purchaser before taking it to the mill. Those mills usually resorted to were at Brighton, Washington county, and at Keosauqua and Bonaparte, Van Buren county.

But the difficulties to be encountered in reaching these distant places, were not the least among the tribulations endured by the pioneers during the first two years of settlement. The slow mode of travel by ox teams was made still slower by the almost total absence of roads and bridges, and such a thing as a ferry was hardly even dreamed of. In dry weather, common sloughs and creeks offered little impediment to the teamsters; but during the floods and the breaking up of winter, proved exceedingly troublesome and dangerous. To get “stuck” in some mucky slough, and thus be delayed for an hour or more, was no uncommon circumstance. Often a raging stream would blockade the way, seeming to threaten swift destruction to whoever would attempt to ford it.

To those living south of the Des Moines, Tally’s ford was the usual place of crossing that river. This ford was at what is now Bellfontaine, a little east of the county line. During low water, no difficulty was experienced in fording; but when it was too deep for this, the means for getting over were certainly trying to any wayfaring man. The only ferry boat was a small canoe. Wagons had to be unloaded and taken to pieces, and both they and their loads shipped in small cargoes at a voyage, till all were over; then the teams had to be unharnessed or unyoked and made to swim, the horses being led by the halter at the side of the canoe, and the oxen by the horns. Mrs. Tally has been known to lead an ox by the horns whilst her husband managed the canoe. Sometimes they were permitted to take their own course in swimming.

An “old settler,” to whose “sketches” we are indebted for these statements, speaks thus eulogistically of the disinterested generosity of Mr. and Mrs. Tally, who kept the ferry: “In this work the early settlers were much indebted to the kind assistance of Mr. and Mrs. Tally, who labored faithfully for their accommodation, usually without adequate compensation, and frequently without any whatever, very generously refusing “any reward for their timely aid.” And also acknowledges, for himself for others, “a debt of gratitude for favors bestowed in times of real necessity;” for the good Samaritan offices of this worthy couple were not confined to the ferry: in cases of sickness, or want in other respects, they were neighbors to all within their reach. It is therefore due to them that their names should be preserved to memory, as among the benefactors of mankind in a sphere not less important because limited to a locality. Their present residence is in Decatur county.

With regards to roads, as we have said, there was nothing of the kind worthy the name. Indian trails were common, but they were unfit to travel on with vehicles. They are described as mere paths, about two feet wide, all that was required to accommodate the single-file manner travel of Indian travelling. Riding, or walking in companies, it seems to have ever been a national custom with them to follow each other singly.

An interesting theory respecting the origin of the routes now pursued by many of our public highways, is given in a speech made by Thomas Benton, many years ago. It possesses a spice of romance, which, however, does not render it a whit less probable. Indeed, the truth of it is practically demonstrated in many instances. He says the buffaloes were the first road engineers, and the paths trodden by them were, as a matter of convenience, followed by the Indians, and lastly by the whites, with such improvements and changes as were found necessary for civilized modes of travel. It is but reasonable to suppose that those monster beasts, the buffaloes, would instinctively chose the most practicable routes and fords in their migrations from one pasture to another. Then the Indians, following, possessed of about as much enterprise as their predecessors, the buffaloes, made no improvements, and were finally driven from the track by those who would.

Among the many roads in this county known to be only Indian trails at the period of which we are writing, is one from Red Rock to Knoxville, and those traversing the bottoms on either side of the river above and below Red Rock. Under the cliffs, south of the river, above town, this road was so narrow as to barely permit the passage of a horseman between the bayou and the rocky wall. Would it be a great stretch of the imagination to suppose that these paths were made and trodden by thousands of buffaloes passing and repassing between pastures, long before the Indians came to drive them from their haunts? If so, Red Rock must have been their fording place hundreds, if not more than a thousand years ago. So, perhaps, were the other fords that have since been in use. The imagination might here paint a wild scene: Standing upon the abrupt bank of the river at Red Rock, on some sultry summer day when the air is still, and the clear shallow water moves slowly down the sand-margined channel, our ears catch a low, rumbling sound like that of distant thunder, only continuous, and each moment growing more distinct, mingled with the lowings of the herd. Suddenly a grand panorama bursts upon our astonished vision. Emerging from the thick forest, crowding each other as though driven by fright, or impelled by heat and thirst, comes the immense multitude, and without a moment’s halt in their peculiar rolling gait, down they plunge over the worn sandy bank into the river, where they assuage their thirst, a lash the waters about them as a protection against annoying insects. Then the advance passes on as the rear advances pressing it, and soon it disappears. Thus for hours they continue to move; and if we grow weary of what may at length become a monotonous scene, we may exchange it for another equally if not more imposiug, by stepping out upon the open prairie, a few miles northward, where we find it almost covered by the vast herd, who have sought it as a pasture after having exhausted some other range.

Whilst speaking of roads, it may be deemed proper, though at the risk of being considered tedious, to state that the first county road that we have any record of as being legally established, was established in 1845, and is thus described in the petition asking for it: “To commence at the house of Samuel Nicholson, thence running in a northerly direction as to strike John Conrey’s claim near the southwest corner of it, thence by the nearest and best route to Knoxville.” Viewers, John T. Pierce, Reuben S. Lowry, and Garret W. Clark; surveyor Isaac B. Power. The next one is petitioned for in January, 1846, and is described to run “from McPherson’s, by way of Durham’s ford, to Knoxville;” and the next related to the “relocation of a territorial road where it crosses the lake in Lake Prairie; thence to the termination of it.” About the same year the road from Red Rock, via Burch’s mill, to Knoxville was established. The want of technicality of the descriptions of these roads was owing to the fact that the country had not yet been sectionized, which was not done till 1846-7, and then only so far as the west line of that part of the purchase open to settlement in 1843, as described in the introductory; therefore the points named in the description were the best known of any that could be named. Several more road transactions follow these, but they are not of sufficient interest to record here. It was not until a much later period than this chapter is mainly intended to treat of, that road matters began to be looked after with any considerable interest. Next in importance to the possession of a homestead was a good and convenient way to pass to and from it; and its importance became greater as the country increased in population, villages and cities sprang into being, and the lands around them began to be fenced into farms.

At the time of which we are speaking, when the early settlers were compelled to make those long and difficult trips to mill, a portion of the way to be traversed was on the prairie, between Oskaloosa and Blue Point, a stretch of about forty miles, where there was not a house. During the summer, when grass was plentiful, the passage of this comparative dessert could be made without much difficulty, by traveling till night, then camping out and feeding the teams on the range; but in winter, an attempt to cross it, without sufficient time to do so by daylight, was attended with no little danger. The road was too obscure to be safely followed at night, and there was no object in the dim horizon to guide the traveler in any certain direction. Though the utmost economy of time was necessary for persons going so far to mill, and those that had families at home to feed, they were compelled to time their travel so as to stay a night at either of the points above named going or coming.

When the goal was at last reached, after a week or more of toilsome travel, attended by more or less exposure, the details of some of which we propose to give in other chapters, and the poor man was impatient to be soon on his return with the needed staff of life, he was often shocked with the information that his turn would come in a week. Then he must look about for some means to save expenses, and he was lucky who could find employment at whatever he could do by the day or by the job. Then, when his turn came, he had to be on hand to bolt his flour, and in those days the bolting machine was not an attached part of the other mill machinery. This done, the anxious soul was ready to endure the trials of a return trip, his heart more or less concerned about the affairs of home; and as this feeling increased, the miles seemed to grow longer, and the journey proportionately tedious.

These milling trips often occupied from three weeks to more than a month each, and were attended with an expense, one way or another, that rendered the cost of breadstuff extremely high. If made in the winter, when more or less grain feed was required for the team, the load would be found so considerably reduced on reaching home, that the cost of what was left, adding other expenses, could be safely estimated at from three to five dollars per bushel. And these trips could not always be made at the most favorable season for traveling. In spring or summer so much time could hardly be spared from other necessary labor; yet for a large family, it was almost impossible to avoid making three or four trips during the year.

Transcribed by Mary E. Boyer, 11/06, reformatted by Al Hibbard 12 Oct 2013.