Pioneer Day Exercises Part 2

At Strongs Ridge, Ohio, where we staid one night we were told we would see no more peaches after we left there--a strange condition of things I thought--so we bought a goodly supply and saved the stones and on reaching Prairie Ronde planted them in Mr. Guilford's garden, the first garden cultivated by a white man on the prairie. Mr. Guilford had apple trees growing from the seed in this garden. The peach trees grew and thrived and were transplanted to many claims in the county.

The south-west part of Kalamazoo county was first settled and John Bair, brother to William Bair, of Vicksburg, drove the first stake, or rather blazed the first tree near Harrison's lake June, 1828.

It was in Prairie Ronde that the first school district in the county was organized, and the first school taught in the winter of '30 and '31 by Thomas W. Merrill, founder of what is now Kalamazoo college. Mr.

Merrill, my first teacher in Michigan, was followed by Stephen Vickery, and Mr. Vickery by Richard Huyck. The school house was built of split logs and was 20 by 26 feet. It stood near the home of Judson Edmunds, recently sold to Joseph Davis.

The first post-office in the county was in Prairie Ronde, and my father was post-master, receiving his commission from General Jackson. The first frame building in the county, a small barn, was built by Delamore Duncan in 1830. The first grist-mill was built in 1830 by John Vickers on Rocky Creek. Corn only was ground in this primitive mill of small dimensions. In the fall of the same year Mr. Vickers sold the mill to Col. Fellows, who built during the winter the first saw-mill in the county, near where William Maile now lives. In this mill was sawed the lumber to build the first store at Bronson, now Kalamazoo. One other claim I must enter. Prairie Ronde furnished for Cooper the character of "Bee-Hunter" in his novel, "Oak Openings." One Towner Savage disputes the honor with Mr. Harrison. Mr. Beadle, of dime novel fame, told me he helped Cooper lay the plot of the story, and that Mr. Towner Savage was the original "Ben Boden."

One event that occurred during the Black Hawk war excitement took great prominence in my boyish mind, because to me it demonstrated the fearlessness and bravery of my father. It was in the spring of 1832, and Col. Lyman Daniels, whose regiment had been ordered to the front, had important papers and money he wished taken to Detroit. It was thought to be a perilous journey at that time. I distinctly remember Mr. Daniels asking Col. Fellows if he would carry them, saying he had been unable to find a man who dared undertake it. My father, then a man nearly 70 years of age, said he would take them, and the papers and money were transferred to his saddle bags and the trip made in six days. In 1830 he had visited Detroit and purchased apple trees, and some of them are still standing, and promise to bloom in a few weeks in all their pristine glory. While in Detroit he enjoyed the hospitality of Gen.

Cases. The hero of the war of 1812 and the whilom boy soldier of the revolution were both members of the ancient order of Masons.

Of the real privations and sufferings of pioneer life that many experienced, I know nothing. With horses the journey to Detroit for supplies was not such an impossible undertaking as it would seem to-day.

But inconveniences were abundant. The post-office was a basket and the basket was kept under the bed. There was a bushel and a half of the first mail Col. Fellows, brought from White Pigeon, and for each letter the post-master paid 25 cents. But I suppose the worth of the news from home and from "the girl I left behind me," could not be computed in dollars and cents. It seems but yesterday that a citizen of Schoolcraft would walk in and say, "Is there airry letter here for airry one of the Bonds?" The manner of sending money by mail at that time differed somewhat from the present check, draft and order system. A fifty or one hundred dollar bill would be cut in two and one-half sent at a time.

That necessity is truly the mother of invention was often demonstrated in pioneer days. I recall a novel arrangement for grinding or pounding corn, constructed by Delamore Duncan. A large stump near the house was hollowed out at the top and a spring-board set in place projecting over the top of the house and a pestle at the end completed the mill or stump mortar. With this the meal for bread for the family was prepared.

The Indian burying ground in the north-west part of the township had great interest for the new-comers. I remember visiting it when there were three "cribs" with their occupants, still standing.

My knowledge of farming when I came to Michigan was necessarily limited.

But the season following our arrival I was introduced to a pair of oxen and a harrow. With my ball in my pocket I started out to prepare a few acres for the sowing of wheat. But no wheat was sown in that field that season. The oxen were slow and my ball required so much attention that by the time I finished harrowing the volunteer wheat had made such a growth sowing was unnecessary. The yield from the field was forty bushels per acre.

One memorable night November 13, 1833, our household was awakened by Dr.

Nathan Thomas who was on a professional visit to the neighborhood and we all left our beds and went out to witness the great meteoric shower never to be forgotten.

The meat supply in the neighborhood sometimes ran low, and thereby hangs a tale. One Harry Smith, came to our home one day to borrow a horse and wagon to drive to Mr. Bishop's, who lived on the north-west side of the prairie. Mr. Smith had a large family, and they were out of meat, and he had heard Mr. Bishop had some to spare. But on reaching there he was told they had no more than would be needed for the family. Mr. Smith, rather crest-fallen, started to return home, but on second thought went back to the house and told Mr. Bishop if he would lend him a bone he would take it home and season some beans and return it. This so greatly pleased Mr. Bishop that he told Mr. Smith he would divide his meat with him, and one meat-hungry family rejoiced that day.

Improved roads, the railway, the telegraph, the telephone, and other Edisonian inventions, have shortened distances since those early days.

And yet I fancy were I to walk from the site of the Old Branch in Kalamazoo, to Prairie Ronde, the distance would seem much greater than it did sixty years ago, when I sometimes walked home from school Sat.u.r.day afternoon.

Although their pioneer experiences retain great interest for those who partic.i.p.ated in them, they are not supposed to hold the same interest for these sons and daughters of younger generations that I see before me. Many of you will enter the next century in the prime of life and help solve problems we wot not of. But those who were born in the early morning of the present century and are still living should be content, for in the words of John S. Ingalls, greater progress has been made during their life time than in sixty centuries previous.

NOTE.--Mrs. Mary Frasier and Lyman Guilford, of Schoolcraft, William Bair, of Vicksburg, and O. H. Fellows, of Prairie Ronde, are all who are living who came to Kalamazoo county in 1829.

MICHIGAN MY MICHIGAN.

This song was written by Addison M. Brown in 1893, to be sung at the annual meeting and picnic of the Kalamazoo County Pioneer society, held at Long Lake.

Bride of my youth, I sing of thee, Michigan, my Michigan.

Thy wave-washed sh.o.r.es, how dear to me, Michigan, my Michigan.

Thee fondly chose I for my own, With thee I built my cabin home, And from thee ne'er had wish to roam, Michigan, my Michigan.

Ne'er brought a bride such dower as thine, Michigan, my Michigan.

Such wealth in forest, field and mine, Michigan, my Michigan.

Thy youthful form how fair to see Ere thy tall forests spared a tree Or plow-share harsh had fretted thee, Michigan, my Michigan.

My heart turns fondly to the day, Michigan, my Michigan.

When, turning from my weary way, Michigan, my Michigan.

I gently laid my tired head On thy soft bosom wide outspread, With naught but Heaven over head, Michigan, my Michigan.

Swiftly, since then, the years have run, Michigan, my Michigan.

The fateful thread is nearly spun, Michigan, my Michigan.

Again my head shall soon be pressed Upon the pillow of thy breast To find with thee unending rest, Michigan, my Michigan.