BY MRS. CATHARINE E. BECKWITH OF NELIGH

     (184) THE early settlers in the county had many difficulties to contend with, that those of more recent date can hardly understand or realize. Not alone in raising their families, but in various other ways; but that this could be done, and most successfully too, has been fully demonstrated to the people living here to-day. Parents that settled on raw homesteads with young and growing families have, many of them, lived to see their children grown to manhood and womanhood -- men of enterprise and integrity, filling positions of trust and some of them taking the lead in the highest affairs of the county. The daughters are women of modest deportment and refinement; esteemed and respected by all who know them.

     Glancing back thirty-five years in the history of the county, you will see these same people coming on their homesteads, with their families and household goods in immigrant wagons, with only the naked prairie before them. A hard proposition it looked to many, but there was no time for idle speculations or regrets. The first consideration was some kind of a habitation, which at that time was composed principally of logs cut from the scrubby timber that grew along the banks of Cedar Creek and the Elkhorn, and ravines that ran back from those streams. Many of the dwellings were cabins of one room, and the housewife that had two, with perhaps a loft above, was considered most fortunate. As the country filled up with new settlers they had to go back from the streams and very soon found there was not enough building timber for all, and some other means must be resorted to, which they did by plowing up the sod where the coarsest and rankest (185) grass grew, the roots of the grass helping to hold the sod together, and this was laid up like brick and formed the walls for their homes, which were more comfortable than an outsider would suppose possible, being cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter then a frame house would be. But the walls were not all. The brush and saplings that could not be used for the body of the house were very useful for roof covering, laying the brush lengthwise on the ridgepoles and using the saplings for rafters, spreading coarse grass over the brush, and finishing the whole with a thick covering of earth. Floors were found to be a luxury that many people, for want of means, were obliged to dispense with, and lived for the first year or two on the bare earth. Some of the settlers dug cellars or eaves and covered them over with dirt; these were called dugouts. Some dug into the side of a ravine; the front was walled up with logs or boards with a window and door cut in them. A stranger passing would take notice of the improved fields and look in vain for a dwelling and discover it first from the smoke coming out of a stovepipe sticking up through a little mound of dirt. It would be useless to enter into all the details of opening up a new prairie farm, there being so much to be done and seemingly all at the same time. All have heard the old song, "Everybody Works but Father," but this was altogether a different proposition. Father struck the pace usually with a team and breaking plow, and every one else fell in line as their age and strength would permit.

     After many months of hard toil and the rush was in a little measure over with, as the family gathered together, evening after evening around the humble board, fond parents looked with pride upon the happy, smiling faces of their children, freckled and tanned by the wind and sun, but bright and wide awake withal. They deeply felt the need of doing something more for them than could be obtained from Antelope County soil. Husbands and wives held long serious talks together upon the wisdom of having placed themselves in a position that would debar their (186) children from all school privileges. Neighbors, when they met, talked the subject over and consulted each other upon the advisability of trying to build a school-house. There were many difficulties in the way, but they were a brave people, full of courage and push; for them to feel a need was, if possible, in some way to meet it. This agitation not long after resulted in the calling of a meeting of the parents interested, the organizing a board and agreeing upon a location. This last was perhaps one of the most difficult things to do, as it was impossible to locate where it would be convenient for all and be near the center of the district. Taxes were voted, that there might be money to pay a teacher, and a day appointed for the men of that district to come with their teams to work on the school building.

     Now all great institutions of learning are built out of various kinds of material. It was just so with these people -- some built of sod, some of logs, a few mostly of tar paper with boards enough to hold together. It usually took weeks and perhaps months before all this could be accomplished and the building ready for use. But accomplished it was, and in the course of time an instructor duly installed in the district building, which was not at all handsome or very comfortable, but like many of the homes that the children came from it was habitable, and here many of the children received their first instruction in book-learning. It was all right during the warm weather, and if some of them did have to go a long way they were well, happy, and carefree and rather enjoyed the change. At recess and noon the hot sun did not hinder them from playing ball and tag with just as much vim and enjoyment as the boys that play these same games on the perfect grounds of Harvard College, and with far less fear of spoiling their clothes or wearing out their shoes. The winters were different, and it took brave hearts that looked forward to their future good to send those thinly clad children two or three miles to school when the snow lay in drifts and piles and not a house upon the way. And when the short winter day was (187) drawing to a close, how anxiously did the mother watch along the frozen way for the coming of the little forms that had been absent since the early morning. But these winters were not all days of sleet and storm and cold winds. Far from it. Many of them were bright and beautiful, with soft, balmy air and refreshing breezes when you felt it a delight to live. It was the sudden extremes that made the climate trying and dangerous, not alone to the children but to their fathers, who had to be out at their work, let the weather be what it would.

     The grain had to be marketed mostly in winter, hauling to Columbus, the nearest market town, a distance of sixty miles, and more for some of the settlers, making a trip of four days for every load of grain. There they bought their groceries and clothing, or rather the cloth that was intended for clothes for the family. The mother living here to-day can take her choice of half a dozen towns in the county, where she can purchase a complete outfit for herself or family, and can hardly realize what it was for the mothers of former years when there were very few sewing machines, and every garment was fashioned by the mother's unceasing labor. Often till the small hours of the morning could these patient and unselfish creatures be seen toiling over the little half-worn garments, renovating and repairing, putting new thumbs in the mittens, knitting new heels and toes in worn-out stockings, that her family might be more comfortable the succeeding day, for many times there was no change of outside garments and what they had must suffice for week days and Sundays. My readers will begin to say, "What an unhappy people they must have been, living in such straitened circumstances." Not at all. They were a cheerful, joyous people, taking them as a whole. They did not, as now, need the whole world with a fence around it to make them happy or contented. They took whatever good that came in their way with thankfulness of heart and when adversity came, as it many times did, in the form of drought, hail, and grasshoppers, they bore that with patience and fortitude, looking forward to something (188) better in the future. It was remarkable, the unselfish feeling of good comradeship and kindly interest that existed among them. If any one met with losses all were sympathetic and helpful as far as circumstances would permit. If any one was in distress, every one was anxious for their relief. If any were sick, there were plenty of willing hands to nurse them back to health and strength. This was just as it should have been and surely pleasing in the sight of the Lord. But how sad to contemplate that this. unselfish interest in each other is so much a thing of the past. The very privileges they were deprived of and the difficulties which they overcame have helped to make them the prosperous and energetic settlers of to-day.

     To illustrate how little it took to make the children have a good time I will relate an amusing little incident that happened under my own observation. It was early in the spring when one of the neighbor boys came to spend the day with a family of friends where they were all boys. He was greeted with enthusiasm; they were so rejoiced to have a companion and playmate that all began at once relating the news of the farm. Among other things, that one hen had begun to lay, and that old Cherry had a red calf. Now old Cherry was an all white cow and had at one time been owned by this boy's father, and they felt, of course, that he would be interested. Very soon they all went trooping off to the stable to inspect the red calf. Coming back after a little while, they brought with them a few eggs which they asked to have cooked for their dinner. The winter had been long and cold, vegetables were scarce, and table delicacies were rare. No wonder they were desiring a change for dinner. The mother told them that there were not eggs enough for five sturdy boys, which was very disappointing. She came to the rescue and suggested that she make a custard pie instead, in which there would be a plenty for all. The vote was unanimous. The pie was made and baked in a long bread or dripping pan, the rest of the dinner prepared, and the boys were seated by themselves around the table that stood on the bare dirt floor, (189) and was drawn up close to the bed, upon which two of the boys sat. The dinner progressed rapidly and very soon there was a call for the pie, which was served out to each in large squares by the mother's willing hands, serving the little guest first and returning to her work. There was a moment's hush, then two or three voices asking all at once, " What's the matter with Miley? " The sight that met the eye on looking around, was enough to bring a smile to any face. There sat the company with his bright, curly head thrown back, his eyes closed, and his mouth open, drawing in long breaths of cold air and shaking his head from side to side, in an effort to cool that mouthful of burning pie so he could swallow it, which he did, saying in a tone of relief, "There, I saved it." The boys said, "Well, why didn't you spit it out?" He replied with a little laugh that he didn't want to waste it. This boy is now a man of enterprise and integrity engaged in the lumber business at Raymond, Washington.

     As yet there has been no mention of religious privileges and some may think that the settlers were too busy to look after those things, or that they were a secondary matter. This would be a grave mistake, for from the time there were a half a dozen families settled along Cedar Creek, a Sunday school was organized and held regularly from house to house, and as the country settled up and schoolhouses were built, there were more and better privileges, there being among the early settlers of the county, living on homesteads, two Congregational ministers and one Methodist, who preached to the people occasionally or regularly, as seemed best. One of them held meetings regularly at his own house for more than a year, preaching the gospel to all that came. This was the Reverend Henry Griffiths of West Cedar valley and one of Antelope County's most worthy pioneers.

     Those who have read Samantha Allen's works will remember how passionately fond she was of "episoding," and I hope that if I do a little of this and relate my own personal experience during the first blizzard we encountered after (190) moving into the county, I may be pardoned for so doing. It was in the month of February, 1873, that we arrived, a family of seven, with all the livestock and household goods that we possessed, three loads in all -- children, furniture, feed for the family and horses -- and moved into a log cabin of one room, twelve by fourteen feet. This had been walled up hastily in the fall and roughly chinked and plastered with mud, which as it dried had fallen out in many places, through which the cold wind was blowing. The roof had been covered with green boughs, the leaves still clinging to them and covered over all with dirt. The prairie mice, thinking this a good refuge from the blasts of winter, had congregated there, I may safely say, by the dozens. There was the bare earth for a floor with the grass still standing on it; the rough logs, with the cracks partly stopped with mud, but more where there was none; a half window in each end, with a door in the east, made of rough boards, and the threshold we had to step over every time we passed in or out was the biggest log in the whole building. I stood there with my baby in my arms, taking in the situation. A person who has never had any experience of that kind can hardly imagine what one's feelings would be under like circumstances. After a little, I went and sat on a pile of boards that were lying in the snow, and took myself well in hand. Had I not the courage to endure what other mothers had endured before me? At any rate, here we were under these conditions and the comfort and happiness of my family, I knew, depended largely upon me, and I went into the house perhaps a sadder, but wiser woman, with a firm determination that whatever lay before me I would do my best. I asked my husband to take off the wagon sheet, which we tacked overhead on the side of the roof where we put the beds, the two beds filling one end of the room. This would keep the leaves and dirt out of our faces while we slept. The other things we arranged as best we could in the space that was left, putting some under the beds and hanging some upon the logs. Here we passed the remainder of the winter, which proved (191) to be fine and so warm that my husband rented land on Cedar Creek and sowed his wheat the last day of February and the oats in March. The grass on the prairie was pretty good the first of April and as feed was scarce nearly every one turned their cattle out on the prairie to pick their living.

     Easter Sunday that year came on the 13th of April. What a lovely, soft, sunshiny morning it was, and after breakfast, as we were expecting friends to spend the day with us, we went out for a walk over the prairie, the children running ahead hunting for flints and arrow heads. About ten o'clock, as we were on our way back to the house my husband remarked that the wind was getting around in the north and that it was beginning to cloud up. About eleven o'clock the company came in the midst of a slight shower of rain and a few claps of thunder. This was not unusual at that season and caused no surprise, but the showers continued and during the afternoon we had three, always accompanied with some thunder. As toward night it grew colder and the rain increased, the guests went home to look after their stock that was running out. We had not yet been able to get a well put down on our place and had to haul our water in a barrel, about a quarter of a mile, from a little creek. My husband said, "I believe I will get, a barrel of water to-night, we don't know what the weather will be in the morning." I walked along to hold the horses while he dipped the water and as we came back it began to sleet. We saw a flock of brants flying around as if lost. He ran on ahead after his gun and killed two of them. It continued to rain and snow until bedtime, the wind blowing cold from the northwest. In the morning when it seemed about the usual time to arise, there was very little light in the room, and it continuing just the same we arose and looked out of the door and found snow everywhere. The windows were almost snowed over and it was so damp that it clung to everything it touched. The wind was terrible. We ate our breakfast in the gloom and then my husband made an effort to reach the barn, but (192) had to come back after several vain attempts, and the wind not subsiding, he gave it up for that day. And what a day it was -- dark and dreary inside, and cold winds and storm outside. The water in the house gave out, and going to the barrel we found it blown full of snow and frozen over, and we had to melt snow from that time, for after the storm was over the ravine where we got water was full of snow for several days. There we sat the whole day through, listening to the wind as it blew the snow against the house with great force, and thought of the poor stock that was without food and very little shelter from the storm. We had plenty of fuel where we could get at it so we did not suffer from cold or hunger, but it was the dread and suspense that were so terrible. The children hovered around the stove and whittled -- they made all the litter they chose without reproof. My husband kept the fires, melted the snow, and scolded about the weather. I tried to repair some of the children's clothes but the light was so poor that toward evening I lighted a lamp and prepared the evening meal, which all ate with relish regardless of the raging storm. We went to bed early and the night was passed in quietude.

     On Tuesday morning we did not wait for the light when we thought it time to arise, but found no change in the weather. Nothing could be seen but snow whirling and drifting, rising high in the air, then dashed back to earth with cold and cruel fierceness. About the middle of that forenoon the wind seemed to abate somewhat, and another attempt was made to reach the suffering stock. He was gone a long time, and a very trying time to the waiting ones, anxious for his return, when finally we heard a call, and opening the door, he staggered in with a young colt in his arms, which he placed on the floor, and after he had recovered his breath a little he made the trip a second time after the mother which he led in shaking with cold and snow balls clinging to her mane. He told me to take the bedding off the bed farthest from the stove. On this there were two ticks filled with hay; one of which he opened and (193) spreading the hay over the floor said "Come, Nellie," and she walked up to the hay and commenced to eat. He placed her colt near her and she stood there, untied, without once trying to leave the corner in the twenty-four hours she was with us. Not so the colt. In his effort to stand on those awkward legs he blundered against everything he came to. One of the other horses had broken loose and stumbled over a bank into a snowdrift and smothered. The other two and the cow stood there shivering with cold, the snow having blown into the hay so that it was almost impossible to get enough out for them to eat. One of the children was sick that day and had a high fever. How to manage the sleeping that night was a puzzle, there being one bed for seven of us. I began by placing folded comforters between the bed and the wall, to make it as wide as possible, and then set chairs along the front side of the bed with a feather bed and plenty of covers. On this I put two of the boys, two more at the foot of the bed, and that left three for the head. In this way we passed the night. The Scripture tells us that "weeping endureth for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." It was so in this case. When we got up it had stopped snowing, the sick child was better, but a trackless waste of snowdrifts, such as I have never seen before or since, and some of these drifts lasted until the middle of June. Clear and pure looked the earth as far as the eye could reach, but this was the 16th of April, and when we looked at it that way, it was rather disheartening.

     There was no time to indulge in a fit of the blues, every one had work to do, and all were glad they had the privilege of getting out again. Some of my readers will perhaps think they could not patiently have borne what I and many others did, some being compelled to lie in bed for lack of fuel. Others lost every head of their stock, and scarcely a family that did not meet with some loss. As for ourselves, we thought it a happy termination to so dreadful a storm, and have never in all these years ceased to be thankful that it came upon us at a time when every (194) member of the household was safe beneath the shelter of that humble log cabin that I once so heartily despised. The following summer and fall we were amply rewarded with abundant crops. My husband raised six hundred bushels of wheat of excellent quality on twenty acres of rented land, two thirds of which was his share. We also had a large crop of oats, and an abundance of everything else that this country produced at that time. We have experienced no more such terrible storms, and when there have been bad storms, we have been far better prepared for them.