Here is more from the book "Sawdust City" by Lois Barland. What we are reading today is only a part of the story. We'll be reading the rest of it next week. This information is used only with permission from the Barland family. Frontier Life in Eau Claire Chicago "Record Herald" October 14, 1923 -- Review of book, "Selim Hobart Peabody" by his daughter, Katherine P. Girling. Mary Elizabeth Pangborn Peabody was a descendant of Jonathan Carver. Mary and Selim Peabody left Philadelphia in 1857 and went to Eau Claire. It took five days on the train from Philadelphia to Chicago. Eau Claire, as Elizabeth Peabody found it on that cold still October twilight in 1857, did not seem to be a town at all, but just a promise. There was, really, but one street along which some thirty flimsy unpainted board houses rubbed shoulders. There were no sidewalks, even the space for them had not been planned. Pigs, geese, chickens and cows roamed about. Someone's aged father had arrived that day and little children were running to see for the first time a white-haired person. The house that Mr. Peabody had been building was not finished, because he had been unable to get such materials as glass, lathe, lime and hardware. It would be several weeks before it could be occupied. Meanwhile he took his family to one of the so-called hotels where the best room to be had was directly over the bar room. Through the cracks and knot holes in the rude floor, tobacco fumes and barroom talk ascended. The building lot was on the outskirts of the village. The house was raised above ground on wooden posts and the space beneath boarded up. There a precious barrel of lime was stored. Upon it depended winter warmth for without it there could be no plastered walls. When it came time to make the plaster, the lime had disappeared. It was not hard to know who had taken it; but it would be difficult to make him bring it back, because his walls were already wearing the plaster. When Peabody mentioned the matter to one of the Village Board, he was treated to a socialogical lecture in frontier ethics. There was no chance to get more. Snow lay six feet on the level and twenty feet in drifts. The thermometer showed 18, 20, even 40 degrees below zero and Eau Claire was isolated. River traffic entirely suspended. Sometimes in mild weather a mail carrier came on horseback across the drifts. All the long winter the Peabodies lived in their unplastered house, warmed only by wood fire. When the children were dressed in the morning, they were bundled up in leggings and mittens and coats like little Eskimos. Out of doors, ears, nose, brows and cheeks froze before one was aware of the danger. One piece of great good fortune befell Mrs. Peabody. An unattached girl, named Lizzy, elected to live with her as helper and member of the family; and her presence in the home in the hard days of the first winter made a bridge between what can and cannot be born. She was a strong, wholesome girl, used to the frontier life and hardship; she knew what to expect and how to prepare for it. And she was not easily frightened. The children loved her and her strength and devotion knew not limits. Life could not have been much harder that first winter in Eau Claire and have permitted survival. The common necessities of life, warmth, cleanliness, and safety were at times beyond attainment. There was plenty of green wood to burn, but it had to be cut, dragged home, sawed and split. As for cleanliness, there were no wells or cisterns. River water and melted snow furnished water for bathing and washing. Libby used to place the kitchen table near the stove, make a little wigwam of clothes lines and blankets, and bathe the children on a table there. Wet clothes dried slowly, and the inconvenience of having lines of washing perpetually stretched across the kitchen was unavoidable. There was no real lack of food; although, before spring came, there was much sharing and going on rations. In the late fall, Mr. Peabody got a carcass of a deer which hung frozen in the wood shed; and from it chunks were cut off as they were needed. The autumn migrations of birds brought flocks of prairie chickens. Bevies of them settled on the ground so that, hitting right and left with a stick, one could kill all that could be used. The settlers learned from the Indians to jerk meat; but canning and bottling were not possible, both from lack of utensils and of knowledge of the processes. From the Indians, too, they got wild rice, cranberries and maple sugar. After the Vermonters saw the squaws make the sugar, straining the syrup through their filthy blankets, maple sugar ceased to be palatable. The town had laid in supplies of flour, coffee, potatoes, codfish, beans and cornmeal; but the array of canned goods which today covers the walls of a grocery store, did not then exist. Fish was abundant. In the winter the men set lines through the ice in the river. During the summer, wild berries were obtainable. Strawberries and raspberries grew in mats and masses; but more beautiful still, were the blueberry swamps, where the ground was covered with a whitish green, wirey moss, often more than a foot deep. Here the bushes grew like green domes which, in berry season, were blue-black with fruit. Snakes? Oh, yes! Black snakes, blue racers, and rattlers. Mr. Peabody though them objects of natural beauty. He had a theory that fear of them was purely a psychological attitude induced by suggestion, but his wife was never able to cultivate a fondness for them. Then there were mosquitoes, atmospheres of mosquitoes! Nothing but thick leather or very heavy woolen would protect the ankles and wrists. If one sat down on a log, the mosquitoes would gather so quickly on one's back as to hide the color of the coat. There were several varieties. The largest were called gallimnippers. It was they who, the boatmen declared, carried brickbats under their wings to sharpen their bills upon. The settlers had no mosquito netting. In the evening one had to build a smudge fire of chips and damp grass and to carry a pan of burning smudge through the sleeping rooms. That gave a choice, at least, between the mosquitoes and the smarting eyes and choking breathing. Mr. Peabody's skin was especially sensitive, and his surveying trips became tests of endurance until his wife made, and persuaded him to wear, a veil of black netting, gathered around the crown of the hat and tied under his chin. He had a gauntlet to run when he first appeared in this balloon, but it was not long before the flounces of Mrs. Peabody's black net dress were divided among the first comers. Mr. Peabody made no pretense of finding natural beauty in mosquitoes. In writing of his camping experiences, (his surveying trips were camping trips) he said; "On a still night a camp is very picturesque. The low log hut or tent by the river; the tall somber pines, towering above dense masses of maple, the rugged outline of oaks, the straggling fires, thrusting out tongues of fitful flame, and reeking with thick smoke, which spreads over the ground or lazily rolls over the roof; the long, level lines of blue haze which the smoke finally draws against the foliage of the trees; the solemn stillness resting over all, broken only by the hoot of the owl, the wail of stream while the bright-eyed climbing stars replace the waning twilight, compose a scene too lovely to be spoiled even by millions of myriads of swarming, howling, raving, hungry mosquitoes." ++++++++++++ What a great story so far, huh? I can hardly wait till next week to read the rest of it. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend! -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net