The Memoirs of John Andrews, Part 5

Here is a link to Part 4, Father's Death, Marriage to Mirinda, and New Business Ventures


Fruit Farming and Permanent Roots in Rockford

In September we left Mr. Piper—who had married again—and journeyed to Rockford in the buggy. It was a pleasant trip and delightful experience. We made 40 to 50 miles per day, stopping overnight where we could. We reached Rockford at 10 o’clock A.M. September 5th or 6th, 1861. Found all well, Ellen and our goods and our house well under way.

The house was in an almost impenetrable grove of “black jack oak” with branches from the ground up, necessitating a great deal of trimming ere we could get around with comfort or convenience. We arranged to live with James and Harriet for a time, and in a few weeks we had some rooms in a habitable condition and moved in. As it had an upper story, we left that part unfinished for the present and I put my time in painting and glazing the windows, etc. A good cellar was dug and a stone wall built for foundation before the superstructure was built. We had a cistern dug, and connected with a pump in the kitchen. We were thus comfortably fixed, and enjoyed the novelty of housekeeping in our new surroundings.

I could not then build a barn to house our horse and a cow I had bought, but made a comfortable makeshift to shelter them with poles and a straw roof. By this time winter was approaching and fuel had to be prepared. I hired a man to do some grubbing for the purpose of clearing a garden spot for the following spring planting, and also for wood for cooking and heating.

Ellen Hall, now in company with Eliza Oatman, a niece of James Hinkley, entered school in the Rockford school house and continued there for some time.

I must now return to Farmersville for a little time. The store and mill, which had been largely financed by Father, had come to me at his death in 1854, and both were continued on the original lines. As I had to buy out the interest of Mother and Seth, it was quite a setback to me for some time, and now on top of this in the summer of 1865 the mill was burned. But fortunately the machinery was not so badly damaged but that it paid a few hundred dollars salvage, of which I got two or three hundred dollars. This ended all my relations with Farmersville and my old home. But dear to me is the memory of my childhood, the scenes of my boyhood, the struggle and hopes of my early manhood.

During the winter of ’61 and ’62 I got quite a garden patch in shape for planting and in the spring put in a variety of seeds and in the end realized a good return. James had rented a farm one mile west the year before ’61, and this farm we worked together, sowing some wheat and oats, planting some corn, potatoes and beans. This was my first experience with the chinch bug. The wheat was badly damaged, the oats and corn not so bad. And also it was my first with the reaper for harvesting. It was the John P. Manny hand rake, one to drive, one to rake off, 4 or 5 to bind and shock up, on an average of 8 acres per day.

[Note: The chinch bug, or Blissus leucopterus, feeds on plants of the grass family, either wild or cultivated varieties such as wheat, rye, barley, oats, and corn. The insects suck the sap out of the growing plants. 19th-century farmers had little control over this pest.]

As this time we exchanged work with Mr. Hill who had a farm adjoining, hiring his machine and helping his force in return.

Somehow they and some others got the notion that I was a stacker and insisted that I should stack their grain. I had never done it but had learned its principle from Father years before. Finally I consented to try my hand at it but mentally resolved that I would not follow the common way of crawling around on my knees and slowly pack each sheaf in its proper place, but that I would do it standing on my feet so as to handle the bundles easier and faster, and if failing to make good I would give it up. Knowing the essential to protect the grain from damage by rains was to have a downward inclination of the stem, and that this could be had better without the close packing of the outside tier than with, I attacked the job and put my theory in practice with success. As I could by this plan put two or three times as much grain in a stack over the ordinary way, and that it kept as well or better, I had calls for more than I could do.

The next year Mr. Hill had a large acreage and importuned me to do his stacking. I would not do it unless he would pay me $4.00 per day. He demurred. The ordinary wage was $1.25. He finally agreed to pay my price. Reaching his place early in the morning, I noticed his men got to work with two teams, but as the grain was some ways from his stack yard, they could not keep me busy, and I said to him, “If you want me to earn my wages you will need another team and man.” He got a neighbor—who by the way was a noted stacker in the vicinity—and by sundown we had all his grain in, much to the surprise of Mr. Meagher, who he had called in to help. Mr. Hill took me to one side and paid the $4.00—the biggest sum by far I had ever received for a day’s work. I learned afterwards that he recouped by not paying Meagher anything. Mr. Hill up to about this time was fairly prosperous. He had a fine intelligent wife and three or four nice children. Race habits got the better of him and he went to the dogs in record time. I never had more to do with him.

[Note: Regarding “race habits”—nineteenth century scientists theorized that different races had essential characteristic habits. In general, white races were held to have “superior” habits and any negative behaviors were assigned to non-white races as “characteristic” of those races. It was all socially conditioned racial prejudice.]

I realize that there are many mistakes in dates that I have no means to disprove or rectify and that some of the incidents do not synchronize with the time or occasion, but are true, only out of place.

On June 27, 1863, Ernest J. Andrews was born, a rugged, strong baby, not so much the handsome facial features as his brothers Charles and Harry, but rather promising with growth, and dominant and self assertive, which in a measure at least his later years justified. Growing rapidly, in a few years we had three boys loyal to each other and carrying the hope that later years justified, of true, honest, and noble manhood. With their cousins the Hinkley boys they had congenial playmates, and through their school life, the trying time of boyhood life, I believe they were fully able to take care of themselves, and also were able, at least in their studies, to hold their own.

Charles was the only one of the three who graduated, and his exercise on that occasion was so unique that it attracted the attention of some Chicago reporter. Harry for some reason we never knew became dissatisfied with his teacher, Mr. Blodget, and refused to attend his school anymore, so we had him attend a private one. Their childhood and boyhood life never gave us any trouble any more than it was with just pleasure that I could sometimes help solve some puzzling problem—something I would not attempt now. I also give them credit that much of the knowledge they have garnered was not drilled into them by the pedagogue route, but largely due to voluntary choice and studious application. I must say here that the predominant factor of this mental alignment is inherited from their mother, not from me. They all worked on the farm more or less till manhood, and after, sometimes, at mechanical work in the shop, at home or abroad. I wished them to feel that they were under no obligation to follow farming as a business, but in any avocation to be true, faithful and earnest, and I believe my wish in this direction has been fully granted.

When I was about 20 years old Father had a woman who called herself “Madam Costner,” claiming to be a Phrenologist and gifted with mesmeric power, installed in the house for some time to try her “science” on my brother Seth who was afflicted with epilepsy. But like many other, and some expensive, attempts for that purpose, she was a failure. Seth’s trouble preyed so heavily on both Father and Mother that they sought every means that gave any promise of hope, even putting him in charge for months of an eminent physician in Cleveland, Ohio. Seth’s trouble passed away years later. He married twice. [Seth’s daughter] Sibbie’s mother died soon after her birth, and she was cared for by Mother and Harriet.

While the “Madam” was with us she felt of my bumps. Her first ejaculation was what a great “development of benevolence,” then you have a “telegraph head” must go head can’t rest, “you can’t live to be thirty years.” This latter was encouraging—but I have lived to know that all her revelations were false, unless I partly adopt the “telegraph head,” for often I had to curb myself, and many other occasions should have checked that tendency in my relation with the boys.

[Note: Practitioners of phrenology believed that they could determine personality by palpating bumps on the head that were believed to reflect 27 to 40 localized brain functions. They would measure an area and extrapolate on a person’s dominant traits. Some phrenologists combined their practice with mesmerism, which was supposed to allow the practitioner to change a person’s traits. It is unclear what the phreno-mesmerist claimed to do for someone suffering from epilepsy.]

Their mother once said to me on an occasional outbreak that I was a tyrant, but with all my shortcomings and needless worrying, I rejoice in the fact that each of my boys secured good social and lucrative positions. The only cloud that shadows our memory was the passing away of the elder one in his promising manhood. [Note: Charles died suddenly at the age of 40.]

After cultivating the 80-acre farm I mentioned in Rockford with James for two or three years, I bought it and two years later was able to pay for it $2500.00 The only improvement on it was a good corn crib, and a small orchard in the northwest corner of the tract, just beginning to bear and which in a few years gave us bounteous crops of snow, grimes, golden, and some other kinds of apples. The quality was fine—demand good, and the sale of them made a welcome addition to our income.

In November 1863 we found it necessary to go to Dubois, expecting to be gone at least a year, as our tenant had left on short notice. The season had been very dry over a large part of the west, and very largely curtailing the corn crop. On arriving, we found that our tenant had employed a man to take charge till relieved, and he was harvesting the corn. We got three or four loads of corn in the husk.

As we had a number of horses, colts, and a cow to winter, we were pleased to find some oats and a stack of hay, which, in addition to the gleanings of the farm, carried the stock through until grass in the spring. As soon as fall rains came so that plowing could be done, I gradually broke in several three-year-old colts and plowed some ground for early spring seeding.

On the afternoon of the last day of December I had gone to the Post Office. Just as I was starting back a sudden atmospheric change was very perceptible. Someone must have left the door of the polar region open—the blast of the northwest wind was so fierce it was hard to make headway against it, and the temperature was falling rapidly. I at once got the stock and most of the chickens under shelter. That night and the day following, 1st January 1864, was the coldest known up to that time through a section of the country five hundred miles wide from Canada to the south Atlantic states. Having a good lot of wood on hand and using it freely, we got through the cold snap quite comfortably.

I now had to find a man to help and arranged with a man by name Anderson, in order to in part cancel a debt he had been owing for several years, and because his help was needed. We had to furnish house room for himself and family, i.e., wife and two children.

This permitted Mirinda and the children to go home the next summer. I remained until late fall, boarding with this family after her departure. We got in the usual farm crops, and also several acres of beans. They all turned out well. As the Civil War was raging, I was able to send several hundred dollars home, the result of the sale of the crops to the Army.

Ben Davis apple

The orchard had grown finely and had commenced bearing so I had sent a small lot home to be put on exhibit at the County Fair, held annually in Rockford. It was a surprise in particular the Ben Davis, that variety was unknown then. They were so attractive that orders for grafts came from some of the nurserymen. I supplied, and in a few years that “beautiful” apple was common. We had planted peach trees with the apple, and made a fine exhibit of that fruit also.

[Note: The Ben Davis apple is largely forgotten again. You can read about it here on this website.]

Two years after settling in Rockford we planted some pears and grapes. When the latter got to full bearing, some of the prominent men of the city who had been attracted by our display of South Illinois fruits were astonished. Our vines were loaded with the finest fruit ever grown there. We had many visitors and questions as though we had by some secret process produced such crops of grapes. They had grown the Clinton, a grape a little in advance of the common wild grape. When the people saw our success and that it was as easy to produce the best as the ordinary, grape growing had a boom. When I say “we,” in connection I mean James Hinkley and myself. Our interest here was similar, our partnership was the orchard south.

Soon after returning from Dubois in November ’64 the man left in charge of the orchard was drafted in the army. Corresponding with a man we knew in Dubois, I arranged for a party to see to things until the spring following. Then James and Harriet with their children went and remained there until the spring of 1867.

Early in ’66 Mother went on a few months’ visit to her old Indiana home, stopping on her return at Dubois with Harriet, and in November following came to us. But she was soon taken with pneumonia and died the first of December.

James had an older brother in California, a “49er,” and on his own initiative James sent funds for traveling expenses with the request that he come and take charge of the place. He accepted the proposal and at once came on. This seemed a “promising” way to secure a permanent tenant, but “all that glitters is not gold.” He was a bachelor and had charge for several years, but then he bought some land in the vicinity and remained for many years. [Note: This older brother was Adino Hinkley.]

I will now leave this theme for the present and notice more home and personal matters, and give time for our beloved boys to grow some, and fast they did. They had their childhood plays, and had for company their cousins, Anson, Arthur and later Otis and Ralph Hinkley, and this pleasant condition continued, through their school days and while Childhood lapsed into boyhood and even unto manhood there was no lengthy break in their intercourse.

As our boys grew up they were all helpful and willing, although differing in their preferences as to their studies and pursuits were very congenial at all times in their daily intercourse. Charles was cheerful, social, enjoyed music, especially singing. Harry quiet and thoughtful. Ernest ever active, urging for some new thing to do. These inclinations seemed prophetic, and were in part at least realized as they reached manhood and selected or achieved occupations.

When Charles was about eighteen he and Harry were interested in the canning business, inaugurated by Mr. Skinner, and worked at times at that at Rockford and at Chicago for a short time. We were glad when they quit that and returned to the farm.

About this time, when Harry was 17, we became very uneasy as his health seemed failing, his eyes troubling also. A little later he went to California for a change, but remained but a short time, and the next winter he spent in Florida, with the Upsons, and he, as well as ourselves, was grateful for the good results. Of his own volition he was learning shorthand, and kept it up when release from farm work gave him opportunity. Becoming proficient [he] was employed by a lawyer, studied law, and finally received his license with the results we all know.

Ernest remained on the farm and from the time he was 17 until 21 was my right hand man. His mechanical inclination or taste was such that I sought, and usually accepted, his suggestions, and in buying improved machinery for the farm accepted his decision. In ’78 and ’80 we built a basement barn that would hold a large amount of hay, and begun adding to our stock of cows, increasing our milk supply. We had been selling milk in a small way for some time to a milk peddler. This called for a way to house and fasten them. Ernest was equal to the call and soon had stanchions etc. for forty of them He remained with us until 1884. He had become restless and wished to branch out for himself, which was his perfect right. As I had of late years depended so much on him I felt his departure to his chosen field, but hoped for his success, and I was not disappointed.

The work continued with hired help. After a year or two Charles married—returned to the farm—took charge of the milking and started a milk route, and took an interest in the farm. A house was now needed, and in ’85 we built the house. We now had Charles move into it and keep the hired help, and also work the land for a year or two.

Ernest went away the 11th of August 1884, when 21 years of age, and some three years later having accomplished his purpose returned to Rockford with a wife and baby. This added another daughter to our family. As he was equipped for business, he soon got employment with a prominent lawyer and in this connection followed the same course as that of Harry, ending with his license as a lawyer. He and Harry made some arrangement that I never fully understood by which Charles became interested and which was so much more congenial to him he abandoned the farm etc. I was sorry to lose the assistance of the boys, but I was pleased that they had all succeeded on their own volition and individual efforts in reaching the desired positions. I had told Charles that I would take the charge of the farm off his hands any time he wished, and as that time had now come the transfer was made. We were living at the old home, and he was in the new farm house. We soon made the exchange. I carried on the business of farm and milking with hired help until I was 64 [1895], when in an evil hour I rented the farm, sold off most of the stock and I have never milked a cow since.

Here are views of the Andrews homes in Rockford:

I still have many pleasant memories of those active days of the long ago, and will have so long as memory lasts.

When Adino [Hinkley] took charge in 1866 the orchard had grown finely. For two or three years we had some peaches for market and in ’67 a light crop of apples. In ’68 the trees both early and late were heavily loaded. On the 4th of July I went down to help about the early harvest apples, and found a great part of them were picked and not more than half grown. These were an entire loss. I stopped the picking at once, and three weeks later we gathered the residue for which we found a profitable market in Chicago.

The winter apple crop was very good and was gathered and sold in good order for fair prices.

All our affairs continued, both at home and south, with but little change in our activities, and the results thereof until 1872. This was the 14th anniversary of our orchard experiment, and a gratifying crop of peaches and apples, both early and late, made it incumbant on me to be on hand in early summer. Charles was now 12 years old, soon followed me and became very active in his cheerful and boyish way. In August both he and the best hired man, in most respects, were stricken with fever. He [the hired man] undertook to doctor himself, with the result it caused his death, at his home in Wisconsin, where he was induced to go. Charlie’s mother on learning his condition at once came down bringing Harry and Ernest. A doctor was consulted and following his directions and her loving nursing in a few weeks had him fully restored. They all remained for some time and enjoyed delicious peaches, fresh plucked from the trees, without stint or pay. They were so abundant that the pigs almost fattened on them. They returned home in the fall, while I remained to secure the fine apple crop, several car loads of which went to Rockford and met with ready sale, the balance sold on commission south and in Chicago.

I had known Allen Cope in Mount Vernon, Indiana, some years previous to our leaving Indiana. He left there before we did, and I had lost all track of him until 1870. He learned somehow that I was at Dubois and he came to see me. We had a very pleasant reunion and what was more I learned that he was in the same business. He had a large orchard thirty miles north of us planted a few years later than ours, but was in full bearing, had a fine crop in ’72.

In April ’72 a magnificent bloom gave promise of another profitable crop. But alas we had not learned then to protect the tender bloom by smudges, from frost that sometimes cut off the fruits, and one night did the job. That year there was no apples or peaches in that section. What to do was now the question. We wanted apples, and our customers would expect us to supply them. In August following I went to Michigan and northern Indiana to spy out the land, and found that there was a good prospect of a fair supply. In September went back prepared to buy—knowing that Mr. Cope was in the same condition as to fruit as I informed him what I had done, and discovered, and soon he arrived. I had bought the apples in a number of orchards and was busy packing them when he came. In less than two months we have over two thousand barrels packed and shipped.

As Mr. Cope had a large frost proof apple house, and as I found he was a far better salesman we sent the larger part to his place and a few car loads to Rockford. As much of this fruit was for late winter and spring market, it was necessary to repack to eliminate all defective specimens. I went down to Mr. Cope’s place and spent some weeks there, while he did the marketing. A good profit was made on this venture and on what part sent home and managed by James.

Anson Hinkley was born at Farmersville November 1857. He grew up to manhood at Rockford. Sometime in the ’80s, I sold my interest at Dubois to James, and in time Anson moved there and has continued, first as his father’s assistant, and after his death as owner, and with his boys continues it with success and financial profit.

As the boys grew up we needed more land. For some time I wanted part of the Church farm which joined my first purchase on the east. Mr. Church was anxious to sell the west forty, and after dickering for a few years he reduced his first price and then I bought it, paying him in cash $2600, about 65 dollars per acre, a large reduction of his first proposal of $125 per acre. This gave us a farm of 120 acres. James had rented the Jobs farms and I subrented part of that for three years.

Sometime during the process—I do not remember the year—Mr. Agard, who was a grain dealer in the city, came to me and said that he had a mortgage or rather a trust deed of the Jackson tract and asked if I would not buy it—saying it had to be sold to cancel the obligation—about $5000, making a very reasonable offer as to payment, etc., that I at once told him that I would take it. So very soon that became one of our possessions and still is.

A few years after going to Rockford we bought a 50-acre tract on what is now Auburn Street, North Kent’s Creek running through, paying $2,000 for it, and very soon selling 24 acres of it for 90 dollars per acre to C.O. Upton, on which he built his slaughter house.

In order to get the land we needed a street, as private property in the City limits intervened. We made application to the City Council, and they after investigating granted the petition, and thus Furman Street became one of the City’s thoroughfares.

After using this tract in company with James for a number of years, I sold out my interest to him, as I had then bought the place we now live on.

The Jackson purchase included also 27 acres north of Auburn Street in the slough, Kent’s Creek meandering through it, as there was no way to reach it except by consent of Mr. Colton through his land, I tried to sell it at a low price—failing in that, we cut several crops of heavy grass, hauling the hay out through Colton’s private way and stacking it on our land.

The winter following ’81 was attended with heavy snow fall, making the roads almost impassable for the delivery of hay from a distance, giving haysellers nearby a monopoly, and ours went off at unprecedented prices.

The Brantingham estate had two 80-acre tracts west of the Jackson, and something near 46 acres from Auburn to Kent’s Creek. Dr. Lane and Joe Brantingham were executors. After several weeks dickering and in the end getting quite a reduction in the price demanded, I bought it for ten thousand and ten dollars, paying one thousand down, the balance at my option as to time, with eight per cent interest. Altogether I was now indebted to the extent of $18,000, and an annual interest obligation of $1200.

Here the fates came to my rescue apparently. B.A. Knight and James Ticknor started a boom. Knight wanted sixty acres in the southwest part of our holdings. I delegated to Harry the deal, as I thought it was the right of the boys to say yes or no. Harry put a price of $200 per acre—and $12,000 cancelled my obligations. It is one of my regrets that I did not make the farm pay instead of taking that big bite of it to do the paying.

Knight got busy; a street car line was cheaply built. Lots were selling fast at $250 or more each. Factories were built. I was invited to help financially, and as the movement had so far been to our advantage, I could not well refuse. But invariably I demanded that my investment must be made by the sale of lots at least the rate of $250 each. In this way some $2000 went. The car line, after passing through many tribulations, finally reached success in the present service of that organization, and no doubt it has been worth to us much more than what we put in it.

Now comes the Diamond Factory, and of this I do not write, or keep in my memory.

[Note: This is where he ended writing his memoirs. There was a Diamond Furniture Company that started in Rockford in 1891. Perhaps he put money in and lost it, but we will never know for sure.]

1919 Andrews Family
Back: Mae (Harry's daughter), Mamie and Harry Andrews, Rex and Beulah Andrews (Charles' son), Elizabeth P Andrews French (Charles' daughter).
Center: Mamie's sister Fannie Ginders, Mirinda and John Andrews, Vinnie and Ernest Andrews, Cordelia Andrews (Charles' widow).
Front: Charles Andrews (Harry's son), Chellis French Jr. (Charles' grandson), Glenn Andrews (Ernest's son)

Mirinda and John Andrews, 1920
About the time he was writing his memoirs

John Andrews died December 28, 1922 at the age of 91. Mirinda Andrews died April 14, 1928, age 87.

The Memoirs of John Andrews, Part 4

Here is Part 3 of the Memoirs: Farm Inventions, Politics, and Business.

Father’s Death, Marriage to Mirinda, and New Business Ventures

When the schoolhouse at “Yankeytown” was burned, it contained a small library which of course suffered the same fate. In building the new house, a room was arranged for installing a library in the future, and after a few years it was commenced first by voluntary donations of books and money, and enough was realized in the latter way to purchase more. This was about 1852.

Additions were made in like manner until probably 1856 to 1858, when a wealthy philanthropist of New Harmony anticipated Carnegie in his library gifts by a number of years by giving libraries, if certain conditions of his will were complied with, the sum of five hundred dollars—and as ours fully met the requirements of the will, we got what was called the equivalent in books, but we had no choice in selecting them. We felt that there was collusion between the executor of the will and the bookseller, but rather than make a row, we receipted for what we had.

In 1854 at a meeting of those most interested, a plan was discussed for the loaning of the books, and also for someone to see to it. As no one would wish to spend much time as librarian in this small affair it resulted in choosing Saturday afternoon for distribution and a turn-about for the job of the librarian.

Father and Mother were then on a visit to two sisters of Mother’s—Dorcas Palmer in Ohio and Aunt Mary Smith in Michigan. She was the mother of George A. Smith. Father was so impressed with George’s financial ability that he offered to loan him quite a sum to aid him in a mercantile business. They were gone on this visit three months.

We had a tenant on the farm for several years, and with his help, and when occasion required other help was employed, I kept the farm work going and at the same time paid some attention to the store, which was prospering now with a competent clerk. I think that Father was pleased with results in the farm and was satisfied that I could operate the store to advantage. In a manner he suggested that I take personal control of that also. This was very gratifying to me, and what experience I had in that direction had shown me that I was a better salesman than any clerk we had before.

At this same time the cooperation mill was being built, and perhaps Father exerted himself too much both physically and mentally. He was stricken with what was called congestion chills, and in a few days he died, aged 68 years. Father’ death at this time was a great shock to us and was also a serious loss to the neighborhood community. It entailed on me responsibilities in a financial way that no previous occasions in that direction had occurred to help me to meet.

Fortunately for me nearly all the small obligations that were due him were settled. The main obligation was consolidated in the larger loan to George Smith, which I was able to satisfy at the suggested time the following spring with the specified amount, $2500, and receiving in return his note and his father’s endorsement, and mortgage on sufficient real estate to secure it. This ran for several years at a satisfactory rate of interest. He was very successful in his business, and also in a political way, serving in the State legislature, first in the lower house, then in the Senate for several terms. When the time came that I wished to use the money for a different purpose, he was well able to satisfy me. He died a few years later, aged 68.

Soon after Father’s death and before his will had been acted on, some business matters that were under way stopped for the want of a head, and here I had to assume the responsibility to go on with plans as formulated and soon affairs were in good working order.

The mill was being built under the supervision of a competent miller, one of the largest subscribers who had been a miller all his life. As most of the funds were advanced by Father to the subscribers in the form of loans, and as Father’s death under these conditions at once stopped construction, he—the miller—inquired of me what he should do. I told him to continue as proposed and that the necessary funds would be furnished. Work was soon resumed and in a few months the mill was completed in all its details and operations commenced. The miller’s name was Samuel Black. James Hinkley, who had lately returned from California and took a financial interest, was installed as engineer, and operations commenced and successfully continued for several years. A fine article of both flour and meal was made and found a ready and profitable market in New Orleans.

After a few days Father’s will was read and then probated.

It was satisfactory to all concerned. He appointed his nephew Anson S. Osborn and his most intimate friend Eben Ellis executors. In due time they settled the estate satisfactorily.

He had quite a library for that time and place of standard works of history, biography, and various other subjects. This collection had its beginning while he was in business in New York and additions to it in his latter days. The will specified that this was to be divided in three parts, to my sister Harriet, to Seth and myself. This was done, but it was a pity it had to be as it broke off its value as a whole.

To Seth and myself the farm, jointly or divided as we chose, to Mother a specified sum of money, and the profits of the farm during life. To Harriet a sum of money and eighty acres of land, mostly timber, two miles east of Farmersville. This bequest was intended—and did—equal in value one share in the farm. As I had but little money that I could use of my own, I had to borrow of Mother and Harriet for a time to keep farm, mill and store in successful operation.

In 1856 Harriet and James Hinkley were married. In 1857, having some funds that I felt free to use and knowing that James controlled Harriet’s legacy, I proposed a joint investment in a new business that had for some time been appealing to me.

Most of the farmers had apple orchards and by this time in full bearing. Apple bees were common—the young people getting together, and surrounding a generous pile of fine fruit would spend a pleasant evening in preparing the fruit for drying. This was done by spreading the pared and divided apples on large scaffolds in the sun, or stringing the sections on needle and thread so they could be hung up to dry in the house over the fire or unused rooms. Still, as the crop increased as the trees grew larger, there came to be quite a surplus and much left to waste.

[A bee in the 19th century was a work party.]

But now buyers began to buy up, pack and market them. Insects or disease had not injured it, and a ready and profitable market was developed. It surely seemed an easy way to make money. Why not try it on a larger scale? Here was Illinois joining us on the west with cheap lands and fine market facilities by both railroad and water in all directions. James had a small farm joining ours on which he was planting an orchard. I suggested that we go to Illinois and plant a large one.

After a few days reflection he assented to my proposition and in November 1857 we went and bought 165 acres in Washington county. We paid in due time $15.00 an acre. My cousin Anson Osborn was a nurseryman and on his farm joining ours had a fine lot of the then standard varieties, and the following spring—1858—we bought and shipped to our new purchase some three thousand trees, enough to plant eighty acres. This was one of the first, if not the first commercial orchard ever planted in the state. With some mishaps, through lack of experience, in a few years we had a fine orchard of apple and peach trees in bearing. It was a wonderful and pleasing surprise to me the extraordinary growth the trees made in that apparently worn out soil and the early response in a few years in fruit bearing. This place was 80 miles west from our home in Indiana.

We had employed a man with a family we had always known to take care of it, and they had moved there as soon as planting was finished. He was a good worker but lacked efficiency, and in a year or two they got homesick for their old associates, and returned to Indiana, necessitating a change.

At this time Miss Piper and I, after a year or more correspondence and some personal visits, were married in Lincoln, Illinois, on the 21st September 1858 and immediately went to my home.

For various reasons we thought it best to sell the farm and did so, giving possession the first of March following.

This enabled us to settle the estate in the manner the will prescribed, as the store building was on the farm yet was included in the sale, but the goods remained in the possession of the stock holders and continued business with a competent manager for some time. The mill was distinct and on ground purchased and owned by the stockholders. In both of these interests I retained and added to my shares. Previous to the sale of the farm Mother and Seth had gone to Genessee, Wisconsin, and bought a farm there.

In the spring of 1859 Mirinda and I bid goodbye to Farmersville and went to her father’s at Lincoln [Illinois], stopping a short time at the orchard where I planned some work for the tenant to do. As this was the first time Mirinda had ever been separated for any length of time from her people it was a very happy meeting. Down at the orchard there was several log buildings for stables and a large one of only one room and loft for the tenant. The Finches were living in this and had made it very comfortable. Yet it seemed necessary to build a new house if we should stay there for any length of time, so after stopping at Lincoln for a few days, I went back to make arrangements to build.

Cairo, Illinois, in the 1850s

I arranged with Finch to get out the sills, etc., and then I went down the Illinois Central Railroad to within a few miles of Cairo. There in a swampy locality was fine timber of poplar and cypress and mills competing with each other, very anxious to sell and raise a little money. For two or three days I selected and loaded on the cars quite a lot more than I had intended in the first place. I felt that it would all be needed in time and that never again could it be had at the-then prices. On getting back I was fortunate to find several carpenters wanting work, and they at once went to work, and in six weeks we had a house large enough for two small families. I then sent for Mirinda and in a few days she came and we went to housekeeping.

James Hinkley and Harriet had now sold their home in Indiana and they came and occupied one half the house and we the other. I had bought doors and sash for the windows and got the siding dressed, and we were able to putty in the glass and do the painting. The plastering of the house we left till late summer. It was managed by James while Mirinda and I were on a long visit at her father’s. We had not expected to make this our permanent home but thought to get things started and take time to look around.

With some of the surplus lumber we fixed up the old log house in good shape and we lived in part of it and boarded with the Finches while building the new house. This was Washington County Post Office and R.R. Station, a small place, some shops, two stores, a pharmacy and a very good doctor, and a large depot building in which lived the station agent, who was also the postmaster.

The location and the inhabitants did not appeal to us as a permanent place to reside, and we had not gone there with that expectation. The people were nearly all from the southern states, and consequently the society was not congenial, especially for Mirinda and Harriet. We remained there till 1860 when James and Harriet went to Rockford and Mirinda to her father’s, and I remained for a time at the orchard.

This was the year Lincoln was elected, and as I had now gained my citizenship I had the pleasure of casting my third presidential vote, and this time for the successful aspirant, for that high office, A. Lincoln. I had in 1852 voted for John P. Hebe, the free soil candidate who was defeated by Franklin Pierce and in 1856 for the gallant pathfinder John C. Fremont [who was defeated by James Buchanan]. In the fall of 1860 I made a trip on horseback to Indiana and on my return I joined Mirinda at Lincoln.

Our first child, Charles, was born at Lincoln in October 1859, and our second, Harry, in 1861. Charles was born while his Grandma was living. She died [January 1861, age 46]. We had gone there on my part that Mirinda could be with her mother for a long visit. Both of these boys were to their proud parents very handsome and were made much of by their Aunt Anna, a very bright and beautiful girl of 6 to 7 years old [she was actually 12 in the spring of 1861].

The death of Mrs. Piper occurred while we were making preparations to go there, but as we had agreed to and as Mr. Piper had asked me to come and take charge of his farm for the season, we went there in March 1861, just before Lincoln was inaugurated [inauguration day was March 20]. As soon as the season opened for farm work, the two boys [Mirinda’s brothers Asa and Charles, ages 17 and 15], and myself got to plowing and in May to planting. For reasons of his own Mr. Piper sent Charles to a friend at Mt. Pulaski and that left Asa and I to do the farm work. As there was no small grain, all the plowed ground, some twenty-five or thirty acres, was planted to corn. We got the planting done with some help in good season, and a good stand of corn rewarded our effort and after cultivation gave us a good crop.

In the place of small grain there was a large piece of heavy meadow. Now the question was how was that to be harvested? A part of it was sold on the ground to some of his friends, but the larger part was left for Asa and myself to manage. The men to whom Mr. Piper had sold a part of it went at it with their scythes, and he expected me to do the same. At this I demurred and on inquiry, I found there was a mowing machine in the vicinity that could be hired. I told Asa to look it up. I did not propose to do by hand what could be more readily done by horse power.

Mr. Piper evidently thought I was taking advantage of his offer to harvest it on the ½ shares he had proffered for managing his farm. But knowing the better way I was obdurate. Asa found the machine and employed the owner to come and cut the grass. A hay rack was found a few miles away and that being secured, we were ready for the job, and as the weather was fine, with some additional help, we soon had it all in the stack.

Soon after the corn was ready to lay by, and I was anxious to prepare for the future. James Hinkley in 1859 had left the orchard home and found Rockford satisfactory to him and had bought some property there, had a house built, and moved there in November 1860. When we got the farm work where a vacation of a few weeks would not interfere, I went to visit them—James and Harriet—at their home in Rockford. This was in July 1861. I was pleased with the town and surrounding country, and my only objection was that it was so far north. Realizing that the sisterly sympathy existing between Harriet and Mirinda was a strong factor in making a new home, I took an option for a short time on a lot of seven acres in the city limits adjoining James’ tract of ten acres. The price was about $200 an acre.

Then before closing the deal I went back to Lincoln and soon after down to the orchard. The Finches having left, I installed a new tenant—James Longfellow.

I then went to Farmersville, Indiana, on horseback, a two day trip. This was not a pleasant one. The Civil War was raging, the people were largely southern sympathizers and the Union men kept quiet. At one small village a peculiar and suspicious flag was flying. I went in a public house where there was on the floor the national emblem [the flag of the United States]. Seeing it there, I made an inquiry about the unfurled emblem. I received no satisfactory answer, but the approach of a number of apparent investigators suggested that it might be the part of prudence to resume my journey.


The next day I reached Farmersville. The store buildings with most of the goods had burned the year previous and a very modern store occupied its place. The old cooperative company was superseded by an individual management. My loss by the burned store was several hundred dollars. The mill was still adding to my income in a very generous manner.

On this occasion I settled up all my business there, and in order to do so in one case took a nice buggy to balance an account. Buying a harness, I put my horse to the buggy, my saddle and belongings, including quite a sum of money, in it and started on my return trip.

On my return from Indiana on this occasion I stopped at the orchard for several days. We had quite a drove of hogs, some 60 or 70 head that with proper feed would be marketable in a few months. While in Farmersville a former neighbor was inquiring for stock of that kind to feed, and knowing that we had not sufficient corn at Dubois of our own, I thought this a good chance to get rid of them. Getting a good offer, I sold the lot to be delivered at a town on the Wabash about 70 miles away. This plan was carried out and a check for quite a sum was received.

As the horse that had taken me to and from Indiana could not be spared from the farm, it had to be replaced. Having a number of unbroken colts, I exchanged two of them for a fine large one and started on the way to Lincoln where I arrived after ten days’ absence.

I now closed up the deal for the lots in Rockford. As money at this time was in great demand I received a large rebate for the cash payment of the whole sum. I made arrangements with a carpenter in Rockford to build a house, indicating as near as I could by letter the point or place to build and sending the plan I wished followed.

Ellen Hall, an adopted girl of Mother’s that had been with us for some time and all the while we were at Lincoln helping in the housework on the farm, was sent to Rockford by railroad and also all our household goods.

Here is the final episode. Part 5: Fruit Farming and Permanent Roots in Rockford

Memoirs of Mirinda Piper Andrews: Married Life 1858 - 1872

Mirinda Piper married John Andrews on September 21, 1858 in Lincoln, Logan County, Illinois. Her father was Beverly Bradley Piper and her mother Delia Deborah Norton Piper. Mirinda was their oldest living child; she had younger siblings Asa Almon Piper, Charles Beverly Piper, and Anne Eliza Piper. Her husband was also the oldest living child in his family; his siblings were Harriet and Seth. Previous chapters of Mirinda’s memoirs have been published on this blog; this one comprises the period of her marriage through the early 1870s.

[1858]

In June John Andrews came again, and on the 21st of September we were married. The ceremony was performed by Mr. Moore, an old Baptist preacher long since dead. We went to live at the old Andrews place with John’s mother and brother Seth. Grandpa Norton was visiting at Father’s at the same time and left when we did; he was to stop at Vincennes, Indiana, but concluded to go on to Evansville with us. It was the last time I saw him; he died the next year at the age of 78. We spent one day at Vincennes, arrived at Farmersville in the night and were met by Seth and James and Harriet Hinkley (they had been married two years before). They brought carriages to take us home in, so the next morning we started for a twenty-mile ride. The day was pleasant and everything lovely. We arrived in time for dinner.

Mother Andrews

The Andrews family consisted of Mother, Seth, and an adopted daughter named Ellen Hall, who was a very pretty young girl about 14 years old. Also there was a cousin of John’s, a maiden lady named Sophronia Phillips staying with the family temporarily^[i]. (Old Mr. Andrews had died in 1854).

From this time on, my life was entirely changed, and my memories will be more of the Andrews family than the Pipers. I met a few of my old acquaintances, but not many, as I was too happy at home to go around much, and the family I had married into were a hard-working, quiet, stay-at-home people, and I did as near like them as I could.

In October Mother Andrews and Seth went to Genesee, Wisconsin, to visit some relatives, and they were so delighted with the place that they bought a farm with the intention of going there to reside in the spring. Miss Phillips stayed with us through the winter. James and Harriet lived on an adjoining farm. They had a year-old son named Anson. During the winter John sold their old home to a Mr. Bois (I think his name was but I am not certain). Seth was very anxious to sell in order to move to Wisconsin. John did not want to sell, but as his Mother sided with Seth he could not resist the pressure. It was an epoch in their lives, as they had always lived there, and all the children were born in the same house.

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We had agreed to give possession March 1st. In February Mother Andrews and Ellen Hall were both taken very sick with typhoid fever. There was to be a sale, and they were removed to Harriet’s, and by the 1st of March [they] were able to sit up. As soon as the sale was over and things were straightened out, John and I left for a visit to Father’s, who still lived near Lincoln, Illinois. Two years before this, James Hinkley and John Andrews bought in partnership a farm of 160 acres in Washington County, Illinois, on the Illinois Central Railroad, and planted it out with apple trees. They had a tenant on the place, and we went around that way to see how things were getting along. We went down the Ohio River in a steamboat to Cairo, Illinois. We had a very rough trip; the wind blew so hard that the boat had to anchor for twelve hours. Some of the passengers, myself among the rest, were quite sea-sick, or river sick. We spent one night in Cairo, then went up the Illinois Central Railroad to Dubois, the station near our orchard, took dinner with the tenant, and arrived at Father’s the next evening. Found them all well and delighted to see us.

We had decided to live at the orchard a year or two before we settled down for good, so John stayed one week at Father’s and then went back to build us a house. Harriet and James were to live there, too. I was dreadfully unhappy to have him leave me, and although my relatives were so kind grew worse. I was to stay ‘til he finished the house, but at the end of three weeks was too homesick [and] would not stay any longer. Father was very much put out about it, and he said I had lived with them 18 years and got along very well but now could not stay six weeks. But he went to Bloomington with me, and John met me at Centralia, so I did not have to change cars alone. We had to board two weeks with Mrs. Finch, our tenant’s wife, but I did not care, I was with my husband and that was all I wanted.

As soon as the new house was fit to move into, James and Harriet came and they had two rooms and we had two. How I enjoyed my new home. There is nothing quite so delightful to a young married woman as her first housekeeping experience. My housework was light, and I did not get tired or lonesome. Sometime that summer James and Harriet went back to their old home in Indiana and were gone two weeks. When they came back they brought James’ niece Eliza Oatsman with them, a sixteen-year-old young lady who lived with them ‘til she married.

I wanted Mother to come and visit us that summer, but she wrote she could not leave her family but we had better come to Lincoln, which we did about the 2^nd of August, and stayed about five weeks. The 8^th of September our little boy was born. We named him Charles Norton. Is there anything sweeter than the first baby? He was the first grandchild too in the Piper family. How they all did dote on him and hated to have us take him away, but when he was three weeks old we went home to Dubois. (This month Grandpa Norton died, aged about 78.)

James and Harriet met us at the depot and were glad to have us home again. Mother Andrews and Seth came down from Wisconsin and stayed a few weeks with us. We had quite an influx of visitors that fall. Clark Butler came, but I did not see him as he was there while we were at Lincoln. Anson Osborn and wife came from Indiana. There was an old Uncle and Aunt of John’s made us a short visit from Ohio, but I have forgotten their names, they died a few years after. The winter passed quickly and happily, my baby was very good and to my eyes beautiful. My housework was light, as there were only three of us in the family and two rooms to keep clean.

1860

This is an historical year, but there are plenty of accounts of it, so I won’t make the attempt. In March John, Baby and I went to Lincoln for a visit; we stayed at Father’s two weeks, then went up to Wisconsin to visit Mother Andrews. We had a very pleasant time as the neighbors invited us out to dinners and teas, so that we were going or entertaining company during our two weeks stay. Among others we met Miss Sylvia Van Camp, whom Seth married the next June. The 16 of May Harriet’s second child was born, George. The same day Abraham Lincoln was nominated for president by the Republicans.

The summer was very hot and we had a big crop of watermelons. The men used to stop work for two hours during the middle of the day and lie around and eat watermelons. Otis Hinkley spent a few weeks with his brother during the heated term, and he was then in college. Of course there were a great many political meetings held in the county, bur I did not attend but one, that was at Samarco, Perry County, and heard Richard Yates speak, who was afterwards Governor. After Seth and Miss Van Camp were married, Ellen Hall came to live with us and remained with us ‘til she was married nine years after. James’ family, with Eliza and Ellen, went over to Indiana in July for a visit of two weeks. Then I was lonesome, having been used to having so many in the house; it seemed dreary enough as John was out in the field at work early and late.

After they came home James went up to the north part of the state to look for a place to settle down, and he decided on Rockford and bought ten acres of land, made arrangements with a carpenter to build him a house, then came back and made preparations to leave Dubois with his family. They went in October. Mother Andrews came down to spend the winter with us and we had a hired man named Tom Brown. Ellen and I had plenty to do and were not lonesome.

In November Abraham Lincoln was elected president. Then there was mutterings of the great storm which broke on us the next April, but I did not heed it, there never had been a war since my recollection in this country, and I did not think there would be; it seemed impossible that Americans would begin to shoot each other, but you see they did.

About the middle of the month Father wrote me that Mother’s health was very poor, and he did not think she would live long, and they were very anxious that I should come and visit her. Oh how I dreaded to go, but I got ready and started in two days. I hated to leave my husband, dreaded the trip, and feared to find Mother sinking. It was a very miserable journey. I arrived at the station in Lincoln at three in the morning. Of course, there was no one to meet me as they did not know I was coming. I sat in the waiting room ‘til daylight, then took my fifteen-months-old boy in my arms and walked to an old acquaintances about a quarter of a mile away. Stayed there to breakfast, then they took me in a buggy out to Father’s. Much to my delight, I found Mother much better. Stayed two weeks and went home on Thanksgiving day. John met me at Centralia, and my troubles were over for that time.

1861

In January Mother’s health failed rapidly, and she died the 24^th. I received two letters from Father, one stating that she was worse, and one with the sad news of her death. They both came by the same mail. I was glad I had visited her so lately, even if it was a hard trip. Father urged us to come and spend the summer with him as he had no housekeeper, and sister Anne was only twelve years old. I disliked exceedingly the idea of going there to stay with my family, and the result proved that my intuitions were correct. But as we were unsettled we concluded to go.

Mother Andrews went to Seth’s. The orchard was rented to James Longfellow. In March Nellie Hall, baby Charlie and I went to Lincoln. John came several weeks later. May 30^th my second child came, we named him Henry Butler, but his name was soon abbreviated to Harry and remained that ever after. My Aunt Mirinda Parker was with me for several weeks. After that summer I never saw her again. There was a great deal of hard feeling that summer between friends on account of different views of the war, and our family was not exempt. It was the most exciting period the United States ever knew and came very near being the Disunited States.

In July John went up to Rockford to visit James and Harriet Hinkley. While there he bought seven acres of land adjoining James’ piece, located on School Street, and engaged a carpenter to build us a house. He came back to Lincoln, stayed a few days, then went down to Indiana, his old home, to settle up some business affairs. I was 21 the 25th of this month.

In August Father was married again, to Miss Elizabeth K. Landis, a lady we all liked very much, but, of course, we were sorry to have him bring any one to take Mother’s place. But it gave John and me a good excuse to go to Rockford, which we did, starting September 1^st or 2^nd. While in Indiana John had bought a nice horse and top buggy, so shipping our things by railroad, we drove up to Rockford, about 200 miles. The weather was fine, but the first day or two was quite tiresome, as I had to hold my three months old Harry in my arms all the way. We started Monday after dinner and arrived at Rockford Friday morning at 9 o’clock. The Hinkley family seemed very glad to see us, and we were delighted to get there, especially as we were to have a settled home at last. I remember that was the most pleasant idea of the whole trip, we would have a home of our own. But we had to board with the Hinkley family for three months, as our house was not ready to go into ‘til the last of November. From this time on my home has been Rockford, and we could not have struck a more beautiful or satisfactory place in the state.

In October Harriet was sent for to go to Genessee, as Seth’s wife had died and left a three months old babe. She took her two little boys, Anson and George, and left me with the care of the house. I got along very well as Ellen and Eliza helped me mornings and evenings, they both went to school. Harriet was gone a week, and when she came home she brought Mother Andrews and the little babe Sylvia. About that time James’ sister, Ellen Hinkley, came up from New Harmony, Indiana, to spend the winter, so we were pretty thick in the house, but we got along very well and had no quarrels. There were six rooms in the house, and twelve people including the babies. We were glad to get moved into our new house although it was not nearly finished.

Mother Andrews spent part of the time with us.

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In January Father’s wife Lizzie died, and he sold his farm and broke up housekeeping and the family boarded. My life ran along in a quiet manner, there was always plenty to do. Ellen Hall quit school and helped me with the housework. We did all our own sewing, without a machine, baked our bread, made butter, did the washing and ironing, and took care of the children. There was not time to be lonesome, although we were strangers here; the Hinkley family was all the company we seemed to need.

In September Father visited us, bringing a young gentleman friend of his. It was Fair time, and they stayed a few days. There were four regiments of soldiers in camp on the river, which were expecting marching orders at any time. While Father was here he united in marriage Edward Maynard and Eliza Oatsman. Edward belonged to the 74th Illinois Volunteers and wanted to be married before he left Rockford^[ii]. The newspapers were full of war news, and it was a general topic of conversation everywhere.

In October the soldiers left. I went to the depot to see them start, they marched through the streets with bands, but it was a sad sight to see them part with their friends, and when they boarded the cars, poor fellows, many of them never came home.

December 18th Harriet’s baby Arthur came. Seth was visiting here that winter, but I do not remember whether he stayed all winter or not. Mother Andrews spent the winter with us.

1863

Ellen Hall visited a few weeks in Wisconsin during the early part of the year. In March brother Asa and sister Annie came; he stayed two weeks, but she remained with us and commenced going to school in the city.

On June 27, my last child was born. We named him Ernest John. I wanted the latter name for fear his father would go to war and be killed. All that summer there was a haunting fear of the war in my mind, as things began to look very serious, and it seemed like all the able-bodied men in the country would be called on. Edward Maynard was paroled on account of sickness.

In October we went up to Seth’s on a visit. Mother Andrews was keeping house for him. We had a pleasant time socially, but the weather was cold and stormy part of the time.

While we were away James had received a letter from the tenant at Dubois saying he had left the place. Someone had to go down there immediately. We packed up and went November 10. When we started the weather was cold and dreary, and we wore our winter wraps, but when we arrived at Dubois the sun was shining warmly, and it was a lovely Indian summer day. There had been a terrible drought that summer and the fields and orchards were as bare as the dead of winter. I was lonesome there, and our nearest neighbor was a quarter of a mile away, and political feeling ran high on account of the war, more than half of the people down there sympathized with the South. I was uneasy whenever John was away from home.

Our cousin, Miss B. Phillips^[iii], came to make us a visit in December, and because the weather was quite stormy she stayed much longer than she first intended.

1864

January 1^st there came the worst storm I had ever seen up to that time, but I have witnessed as bad since then. There was a blizzard and such a snow storm. John went to the post office a mile away. I was very uneasy fearing he would not find his way home. The next day was very cold and continued so for several days. All the peach trees in the state were killed.

In February I took a severe cold which settled on my lungs. I had worked too hard and had not taken proper care of my health, and now it failed me. All the work for five in the family I had done and had not been accustomed to work so hard. My baby Ernest was sick considerable during the spring months and I felt rather blue.

We took a tri-weekly Chicago paper and an old gentleman neighbor used to come over to get me to read the war news to him, his eyesight was poor. I do not think he could read very well either. He had two sons in the army, and took great interest in all the war news.

One of the pleasant things of my life down there were my letters from Rockford. Sister Annie was boarding with the Hinkleys, Ellen Hall was living there too, and they all wrote me such delightful letters, mail day was anxiously looked for.

The three little Andrews boys: Charles Norton, Harry Butler, and Ernest John, about 1864.

July 3 I started home to Rockford with my three children. John remained to take care of the place during the summer, for we had found a family to move into the house and board the hands. The Democratic presidential convention was in session in Chicago. Father, brother Asa, and Uncle Louis Norton were there. Asa was attending a law school there, and had a room. He met us at the depot and took us to his boarding house, where we spent a very pleasant day with my relatives. I also visited a physician in the city, who told me my lungs were somewhat affected, and gave me some medicine.

The Democrats nominated George B. McClellan for president, and George H. Pendleton for vice president. But the Republicans were successful and elected Abraham Lincoln for president and Andrew Johnson for vice president.

How delighted I was to get back to my Rockford home. My health improved some by the change of climate. Annie had gone to Goshen, Indiana, to live with Uncle Almon Norton. Mother Andrews came to live with us and also Nellie Hall. John remained at Dubois until October.

In November cousin Harriet Osborn came from Brooklyn, New York, to spend the winter with the Hinkley family. We had a jol1y winter, spending about three evenings a week together, playing Huggins, or Old Maid with cards, as Miss Osborn had scruples about playing Euchre, our favorite game. But what I enjoyed most was the grand talks we had; she was very intelligent and interesting and having spent most of her life in a city, opened up a new world to my mind.

We spent Thanksgiving day at our house and Christmas at the Hinkleys. Miss Osborn stayed ‘til May.

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In April the war came to an end, much to my delight. I had been in better health and was much more cheerful and hopeful than I had been the spring and summer before. How well I remember one April evening (though I have forgotten the date) we were all over at Harriet’s, when the church bell began to ring out rapidly and joyously. There someone exclaimed, “Lee has surrendered, the war is over!” We had been expecting it, and we all jumped up and commenced shaking hands, and I am sure that one of us at least cried for joy. A few days later we heard the dreadful news of Lincoln’s assassination which cast a damper on our spirits for a time, but nothing could undo the grand fact that the cruel war was over.

In June Ella Hinkley was born, and we were all much pleased. As I had three boys and Harriet had three, we thought there ought to be more of the girl element in the neighborhood.

Everything passed quietly during the summer; we took no trips and had no visitors from a distance that I remember. In the fall our tenant at Dubois wanted to leave, and James Hinkley decided to take his family down there.

Seth, his Mother, and Sibbie [little Sylvia Andrews] moved into their Rockford house. Before that, there had been built a house on the west end of James’ land for Mother Andrews to live in, and she had resided there for some time.

Our little Charlie was now six and we started him to school, but he did not go all winter. I taught him at home; he was reading in a second reader.

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This spring Miss Zillah Douglas on Avon Street started a private school for primary scholars, in one room of the Douglas house. Charlie and Sibbie Andrews attended. This was a memorable summer to me. I was in a low nervous state of health and under a doctor’s care but able to work and be around all the time. In June I became terribly excited about religious matters, found that I had drifted away from the faith of my fathers, and had nothing to hold on to. But after a few months my mind grew clearer, and I realized that although the Bible contains truth it does not contain all truth, and what is set down as doctrine is merely the belief of the writer of the book. And a more extended knowledge of history and the sciences confirms me in the opinion.

Fortunately for me we were growing berries, and much of my time was spent out picking the fruit. The fresh air was good for me, and the constant communing with nature was still better. Nature said to me, God is good and merciful, creeds and dogmas to the contrary notwithstanding, I prayed constantly, and my prayer was “I can’t believe (the orthodox faith) God help my unbelief.” My prayer was answered, and I was led to see that God is the Father and Maker of us all. Or as Isaiah says “I form the light and create darkness; I make peace and create evil, I the Lord do all things.” I became satisfied that God was all and the devil was a myth, imagined by priests to frighten their congregations into obedience. A good and merciful Father would never allow any of His creatures to be tortured through all eternity. I read a great deal of Whittier, that grand religious poet. How often I quoted

            I know not where his islands lift

            Their fronded palms in air,

            I only know I cannot drift

            Beyond his love and care.

George McDonald’s books helped me, as did Robert Falconer and others. I thought at that time that I was entirely alone in my struggle, that no one else had suffered in the same way, but years afterward I learned that many others had, notably Dr. [John H.] Kerr, and the author of Robert Elsmere [Mrs. Humphrey Ward, published 1888]. For no one could have written the vivid picture of his (Elsmere’s) mind without it being a personal matter.

In July Ebenezer Ellis, his wife, and Mrs. Van Camp, Sibbie’s Grandmother, visited us from Genesee, Wisconsin. They staid several days, part of the time they were at Seth’s. In August the children and I went on a visit to Father’s who had married a widow lady^[iv] and was living a few miles from Mattoon. I did not wish to go, but John thought it would be good for me to have a change, and father’s folks were so urgent for me to come. Seth was going to be married, so I had his company through Chicago. We stayed two weeks, and my little three-year-old Ernie was very sick while there and had ague for several weeks after our return. Harry also. I was delighted to get home though they had been so glad to see me and kind while there. Some way the greatest pleasure I ever had visiting was the delight of getting home in those days.

Seth was married to Miss Flora Phillips in September; they spent a few days at our home and then went to Genesee, Wisconsin to live on his farm, and they took Sibbie with them. The fall was a very sad one to all of us. The children and I were sick for some time. In November my brother Asa died near Mattoon. In December little George Hinkley died, he had been sick all summer with malarial fever at Dubois, it was a terrible blow to his parents. He was six years old. Mother Andrews came down there with them, and after the funeral she came up to our house. She took cold on the trip which resulted in pneumonia and she died one week later. The old saying came true with us that “misfortunes never come singly.”

1867

March 1st James’ family came back to Rockford; it was a very sad homecoming for Harriet, as she had left one of her little ones behind her. Mrs. Alehin on Peoatonica Street started a private school and Charlie and Harry went. In June Anne came from Goshen, Indiana, to live with us. Cousin Howard Norton came with her and remained a few days. Anne had taken a severe cold and her health was poor, but she seemed to improve after she came to us. My stepmother had died during the winter, and Father spent the time traveling among his Baptist friends. I did not see him this year.

My health was improving. John was working hard farming our eighty acre piece and raising berries on our seven acre Rockford place.

1868

In April, Harriet had another baby, a boy whom she named Hargrove Otis, who in a measure filled the place of George that she lost. This month Annie’s health failed visibly. The Doctor said one lung was hepatized and we saw that she was going with consumption. I took the best care of her that I could, and as Nellie Hall was with me could devote most of my time to her, especially as there was plenty of sewing and mending to do and could work in her room. She was very patient and gentle, and gave as little trouble as possible. Father came in September, he had been talking of taking her to Kentucky for the winter, but when he saw her concluded it would do her more harm than good, as she was so far gone. She passed away October 13. She had suffered so much I could not grieve for her, but I grieved for myself. I missed her so, always, very near and dear to me being my only sister, she had grown doubly so during the many months I had cared for and waited on her. Sometime this fall Father went to Logan County, Kentucky, to live, and I never saw him afterwards. In a year or two he married a Kentucky lady^[v], and lived on her farm the rest of his life. He died in September 1880.

1869

This was a very quiet uneventful year to us; nothing happened of any moment ‘til September when Nellie Hall, who had lived with us nine years, was united in marriage to Henry Joslin^[vi]. For the first time in nine years we were alone with our little family. It seemed so good. Of course I had more work to do, but by hiring the washing, as my health improved, I really enjoyed my work. Harriet’s baby Ralph was born December 14, her last child.

1870

I remember nothing particular about this year ‘til August when Harriet, baby Ralph, and I went to visit Seth’s family. They were now living at Lodi, Wisconsin. We had a delightful trip to Madison on the cars. Seth and a neighbor, Mr. Hall, met us with a two-seated carriage, and I don’t think I ever had a more delightful drive. It was twenty miles to Lodi and we arrived tired and hungry and found a good supper awaiting us. We had a pleasant visit of a week. They all seemed glad to see us.

In September John took the children and me on a visit to Nellie Joslin in Durand. We went one day and came home the next. October 13, Eliza Maynard died with consumption, just two years after Annie’s death. James Hinkley’s two sisters, Miss Lydia Hinkley and Mrs. Ellen Brown, spent most of the summer with relatives here. They were from California.

1871

Nothing of importance happened, we went nowhere away from Rockford. We had no sickness, no deaths, or marriages in the family.

1872

This spring John rented the farm and went down to Dubois to take care of the orchard. There was a promise of a large crop of apples and peaches. In July he wrote for Charlie to come down, and as it was the long vacation, he was delighted to go. I was almost afraid to have him go alone on the cars, but he arrived safely. In a few weeks he was taken sick with malarial fever and I took the other children and went down to take care of him. Found him very sick but he soon grew better. We had a great many peaches on the place, and if he had not been sick we would have had a fine time. We only stayed two weeks as Harry was taken sick and I thought we would all be down and hurried home with my children. John remained ‘til October. After our return Charlie had a relapse and I feared he would die. He recovered but was delicate all winter, did not attend school till the spring term. This fall we bought our first coal stove; before we had always burned wood and allowed the fire to go out of nights, so I did not keep house plants.

Notes:

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[i] We have not been able to trace the Phillips relationship. Perhaps this was a relative of Anson Seeley Andrews’ mother, Elizabeth Butler, who had a sister named Sophronia. There was a Daphne Butler who married a Samuel Phillips and had a daughter Sophronia in 1823, and Elizabeth Butler did have an older sister Daphne born in 1782, but no connection has been proven.

[ii] Edward C. Maynard enlisted August 7, 1862 as a member of Company D, 74^th Illinois Volunteer Infantry. He was mustered August 28, 1862 and the Infantry began leaving Rockford September 4, 1862, so he must have been married within a few days. He was discharged with a disability May 20, 1863. (Brigadier General J. N. Reece, Report of the Adjutant General of the State of Illinois, Vol VII, p. 586; online at http://www.archive.org/stream/reportofadjutant04illi1#page/582/mode/1up). After the war he became a policeman in Rockford. Sadly, Eliza and all three of their children died of consumption over the next twenty years. Edward married again and had a daughter who lived into old age.

[iii] We have not been able to trace what cousin this is. Perhaps she was a sibling of Sophronia Phillips.

[iv] Beverly Bradley Piper’s third wife was Mrs. Lucy W. Jones. They were married 2 November 1865 in Coles County, Illinois. She died in 1867.

[v] B.B. Piper’s fourth wife was Isabella Herndon. They were married 31 August 1870 and had a son, Robert Beverly Piper, in 1871; and a daughter, Ellen C. Piper, in 1873. Isabella died in 1914. Both Robert and Ellen married and had children.

[vi] Although we have been unable to trace Ellen Hall’s parents, her marriage was on 15 September 1869. She died 26 April 1879, and Henry Joslin married again. There were no children.
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Other Posts about Mirinda:

One-Room Schools, a Romance, an Earthquake

Mirinda and Slavery

The Further Adventures of Mirinda Piper (first part)
 
The Further Adventures of Mirinda Piper (second part)
 
Mirinda Piper's Adventures as a Young Lady of the 1850s