Carver in season for breakfast. From Carver the road, if the straggling path made through the woods by the Glencoe settlers earlier in the season could be dignified by such a name, suddenly became much worse. Numerous stumps, deep ruts, and deeper chuck-holes, mud and fallen trees, opposed their passage. Nightfall found them weary and way-worn, with the aspect of "the knight of the sorrowful countenance," their horses jaded, and with a bag of game consisting of a brace of ducks, three partridges, a solitary rabbit, and a squirrel, on the banks of a small stream two or three miles east of the present site of Young America, and eleven miles from Carver. By this stream they prepared to camp for the night. The game was soon skinned, dressed, roasted, and disposed of in the most hearty if not the most approved style; and no dinner at the West Hotel, nor even at Delmonico's, was ever better enjoyed. November 18. At daylight the camp was astir. After a "picked up" breakfast, the tent was struck and the pilgrims were moving toward their Mecca. A couple of partridges roasted before an improvised fire, with a pound or two of hardtack, served for dinner. Buffalo creek was crossed before sunset, Chambers going ahead and breaking the ice with his feet. As the water was three feet deep and Glencoe five miles away, he unwillingly admitted that he got but little fun out of this operation. Over a smoother way better time was now made, and twilight found our explorers on the outmost verge of civilization. They would have had to push their way 2,000 miles farther unless they changed their course, before reaching another town or meeting a white man. Doty's Hotel, a one-story log building "with all the modern improvements," offered them a welcome, a shelter and first-class accommodations at first-class rates, and there they ensconced themselves for the night. November 19. With A. J. Bell, a Glencoe surveyor, for a guide, the line of march was resumed. As the road they had been following ended at Glancoe, the scattered groves were the only landmarks. They struck the Hassan river at the bend near the spot where Philip Busson, the Frenchman, now lives. Here was a delightful grove, resplendent with the gorgeous hues of a Minnesota Indian summer. The air was crisp and invigorating. The scene was charming, and the party would willingly have taber nacled there. The sky, the earth, the air, the overarching trees, the shimmering stream, the fertile soil, were so many Circes wooing them to stay. Thanks, however, to Mr. Bell, who assured them that there was a better place six miles farther up the river, the company, after a few deep-drawn sighs, reluctantly moved on, some on foot, and some riding in the wagons, these being the first to reach the "promised land." While they were pitching their tents, at the edge of the grove west of the place now occupied by the Catholic parsonage, Parker wenck with one of the teams to meet the rest of the party. When the last straggler was picked up and brought in and all were seated in Turkish fashion round the crackling camp-fire, they with one voice declared that spot the most beautiful and attractive they had ever seen. The charming woods, the winding sweep of the crystal river, the range of circling bluffs beyond, the smooth lawnlike slope from forest to stream, the autumnal robings of shrubs and trees and creeping vines, the bewildering beauty of the whole view, all combined to awaken their enthusiasm, stir their blood, and set every nerve to tingling with delight, while Hope was busy with her brush and easel painting bright visions of the future. Messer, the poet, the artist, the optimist, the dreamer par excellence of the company, which was divided about equally between poets, artists, optimists, and dreamers, on the one side, and plain practical men on the other, seized his fiddle, which was never far from his person, and struck up "The Star Spangled Banner." The Hutchinsons, and all who could sing, "joined in." For the first time since "the morning stars sang together," grand strains of heavenly harmony echoed through the listening groves, and finally died away on the range of circling bluffs beyond the distant river. ADOPTION OF A CONSTITUTION. November 20, a business meeting was held in the tent. Col. J. H. Stevens was chosen president; B. E. Messer, secretary; and A. J. Bell, Lewis Harrington, Asa B. Hutchinson, B. E. Messer, and J. H. Stevens, a committee to draft a constitution and bylaws. They then adjourned to meet at Glencoe the next morning. November 21, the company met according to adjournment, and adopted articles of agreement, which were substantially as follows: 1. There shall be two town sites, each containing 320 acres: Harmony, to be located on the south half of section 31, township 117, range 29; and Hutchinson, on the north half of section 6, township 116, range 29. 2. The two sites shall be divided into 100 shares. 3. The Hutchinsons shall each have ten shares. Each of the eleven men with them shall have five shares. The remaining fifteen shares shall be disposed of by the Hutchinsons as they think best. 4. The river shall continue to be called by its Indian name Hassan (Leaf). 5. L. Harrington, R. H. Pendergast, and Henry Chambers, were appointed to do the business of the company, and dispose of lots to actual settlers. 6. Special meetings shall be held at any time on the written request of three shareholders. 7. Any shareholder neglecting to pay authorized assessments shall forfeit his stock. 8. It was voted to employ L. Harrington to survey the two sites, his compensation being $380. 9. Five acres were set apart for "Humanity's Church." IO. Fifteen acres were set aside for a park (afterward increased to twenty-two acres). II. Eight lots were reserved for educational purposes. son, woman shall enjoy equal rights with man." 13. "No lot shall ever be occupied by any building used as a saloon, bowling alley, or billiard room, on penalty of forfeiture of the lot." The next morning the company set out on their return to Minneapolis. During the winter Messrs. Harrington and Bell surveyed the town site, Harrington really doing all the business connected with the survey, though he and Bell took the contract together. PIONEER REMINISCENCES. Agreeably to my promise made the fall before, I left Milwau kee on the 11th of April, 1856, for Hutchinson. My father and brother (T. H.), a cousin (Solomon Pendergast) now at Sauk Center, T. B. Chesley, and six others, had come out from New Hampshire to go with me. We reached Read's Landing, at the foot of lake Pepin, on the 14th. There we waited two days for the ice to break up, when, tired of "hope deferred," we walked round the lake thirty miles over a muddy road to Wacouta, where we found the Time and Tide, one of Louis Robert's boats, with steam up ready to take us to St. Paul. This steaming up we found was only a trick to make us buy tickets at once. It was played several times before the boat finally started. We landed at St. Paul on the 17th, and took passage on the Reveille for Carver. On the morning of the 18th we all left on foot for Young America, where we staid that night, sleeping four in a bed wedged in like smelts. The next day hard walking began to tell on the older members of the party; and the three young Pendergasts, Chesley, Atherton, and Glass, soon left the others. out of sight. At Glencoe they got a lunch and pushed on, following directions received from some men who thought they knew the way. At nightfall we camped by a lake six miles out and a mile or so east of the present Hutchinson and Glencoe road. We had no blankets, no tent, and no food, except a few pieces of hardtack bought at Carver the day before. Solomon, however, shot a goose near the shore of the lake, but, as bad luck would have it, she flew out to the middle of the lake before falling. Here was a "pretty kettle of fish." I prepared half a dozen little sticks and tried to get the others to draw, in order to decide which one of us should swim out and get her. It was forty rods to where she lay. The ground was beginning to freeze around the edge of the lake, and little needles of ice were shooting out from the shore over the still water. There was nothing alluring to be seen, except the goose floating on the bosom of the lake at what seemed a long distance away. It was not a tempting bait under the circumstances. No one would draw a stick. Disgusted with what seemed to me their cowardice, I went around to the opposite side of the lake, as the goose looked nearer that shore, and plunged into the ice-cold water. On reaching the goose and looking around to take my bearings, the camp looked as near as the shore I had left; so, taking the goose's neck in my mouth, I paddled towards the fire, which had been kindled under a big oak and looked very comfortable, but which at the time did me very little good. The water was lighted up more than it was warmed by the blaze. Nearly benumbed, I landed with the trophy, only to find that my thick woolen stockings had been burned in my absence by one of the boys who through kindness had undertaken to dry them before the fire. In three hours the goose was dressed and roasted. A half hour later every bone was picked as clean as a mounted skeleton. This done, we lay down on the bare ground, with some sticks and brush above and the stars twinkling through the impromptu lattice work. There and thus we slept the sleep of "Innocents Abroad." At noon of the 20th we surprised Roswell and four companions named Gray, Whitney, Failing, and Hook (from whom lake Hook got its name), who were holding possession of the J. E. Chesley hut, which stood a few rods from the southeast corner of the town site. Mr. Chesley, finding provisions running low, had gone to St. Paul to replenish his stock. That evening the rest of our company arrived, and, taking us all together, it must be admitted that as "famine breeders" we were a decided success. The visible supply of food, which consisted of about twenty pounds of flour, totally disappeared in two days. A bushel of potatoes, which had been procured for seed, lasted but little longer. A two-bushel sack of horse feed that stood in one corner of the room was not quite so quickly disposed of. It was ground coarse, the hulls were rough and plowed furrows broad and deep from one end of the oesophagus to the other. We made mush of this, and sweetened it with Hassan river water. After each meal we devoutly thanked the Lord for ground feed, and felt grateful that it "was as well with us as it was." After a few days Mr. Chesley came back with scant supplies for so many, and then he and I started back to St. Paul immediately on foot, bought four yoke of oxen, a wagon, and a load of goods, including a big breaking plow. After two weeks of hard struggling over stumps, through mire-holes and mud lakes, we crossed the Hassan once more, plowed the first field, and harvested the first crop ever raised in the entire Hassan valley. The grasshoppers, however, which came in countless swarms about the first of July, left little harvesting for us to do. |