 |
| Graves of Andrew J. and Mary Gwinn, among others, at Gwinn Cemetery near Humeston. |
"At least we don't have to worry about prairie fires," I said to myself yesterday after finding a brief letter to the editor from Andrew J. Gwinn, published on Oct. 19, 1911, in Henry Gittinger's The Chariton Leader.
Mr. Gwinn, who was 63 at the time he wrote this and living near Lucas, was a native of Greenbrier County, (West) Virginia, who arrived on the prairies of far northwest Wayne County, Iowa, with his family when he was about 7 years old, in 1855.
After his marriage to Mary Sayers during 1870, the family lived in both Union and Jackson townships, Lucas County.
He died at 77 on Feb. 8, 1926, and is buried with Mary in the Gwinn family cemetery just northwest of Humeston. Here's the text of his brief letter:
+++
In early days prairie fires was the worst danger to the settlers. People generally would plow a large square or round strip around their house and stable and keep it burned off or plowed often to break the fire, and then it was very dangerous. I remember once we saw smoke away in the northwest about Osceola or beyond. The wind was blowing a gale from that direction, and we knew that it wouldn't be long before things would be hot round there.
Our cattle were a short ways off. Father hurried them into the pen inside the braking and went to the house, got fire in something as we had no matches, then hurried to the northwest corner of the plowing and fired the grass. Then, the main fire wasn't over three miles away. In a few minutes the fire was upon us. It swept round us, and the whole country was a seething sheet of flame. the fire didn't strike us, but the smoke and heat did, and you had to lay on the ground flat, face down close to the ground to breathe and keep your clothes from catching from a spark. In ten minutes it was all over, and had left the earth a black dismal waste.
Such scenes as these are never effaced from the record, and I have seen fires running over these prairies faster than a horse can run, and no man or animal could live in one of them. The Indians would save themselves by back firing, and the wolves and deer fled to the water holes for protection. They have been known to run right into men's houses when hard pressed by fire or other enemies.
Well, it is time to go to the mill and post office. Someone or maybe two of the neighbors would take grists for the whole settlement, go with ox teams at that. The post office was at Eddyville, and the mills was at Red Rock and Pella, and not a darned bridge on the whole route. Sometimes they would be gone a week, and then breadstuffs would be getting mighty shy in these diggins.
If it was in the winter time, three or four men with teams would take shovels and shovel the snow drifts out so they could pass through. The winters in the early days of Iowa were more severe than they are now. I believe the winter of 1864-65 was harder than the last four have been all put together.
As this article is getting long and it is moving day for Brother Gittinger, I will ring off.
A.J. Gwinn
No comments:
Post a Comment