The Morrills and Reminiscences - C. H. Morrill

day I walked into Smith's office and counted out the money. He was very much pleased and patted me on the back, saying, "Morrill, if there were more men like you, this world would not be so full of trouble."
Several years afterward Smith went to National City, California, and, I was sorry to hear, lost his fortune in real estate speculations.
I think it was in 1875, one midsummer's day, that I was returning from a trip to Columbus. When I reached the divide or bluff lands south of the Platte River, I was very thirsty. There was really no excuse for my being dry, as Columbus was always wet. There were very few settlers on the bluffs in those days, and I was wondering if I could stand it until I got to Osceola. Presently I saw a sod-house about two miles off the road to my right. I concluded to ride over and quench my thirst. As I approached the house I saw that it was vacant, but there was a well with a windlass and an old shrunken wooden bucket. I let the bucket down into the well but before I could get it to the top, it was empty. I tried again, speeding up, but the result was the same, so I gave up. On the front of the house a notice was posted, which read as follows:

I wondered if that would be my fate. The notice appealed to me and I copied it.
In the western part of Polk County and in the eastern part of Hamilton County, there was a strip of territory, perhaps ten miles in width, on which for many years in succession the crops were destroyed by hail. It was known as the hail district. A Swede by the name of John Johnson, lived near the county line. He traded at Aurora and sometimes at Stromsburg. He was a hustler, and I often tried to get him to do his borrowing at our bank. He always refused, saying that he got his money at Aurora at ten per cent. One day he came into the bank and inquired our rate. I told him fifteen per cent, or four dollars, on one hundred dollars for ninety days. He groaned, saying that it was awful, but as his bank in Aurora was not loaning, he would take one hundred dollars for ninety days. After we had deducted the interest, he received ninety-six dollars. When the note was due he came in and counted out in payment one hundred and four dollars. I asked him what the extra four dollars was for. He replied, "Interest, of course." I told him that he had paid the interest once. He replied that at the Aurora bank he always paid interest on both ends of the loan.
I remember loaning two hundred dollars to a man living in Hamilton County. He gave as security a mortgage on one dark brown horse, named Moody, and on one sorrel horse, named Sankey. Times were very hard and we were obliged to carry this loan with

Moody and Sankey as security for about five years, renewing it every ninety days. One day the owner of the horses came into the bank and paid off the loan. When he got his note and release of the mortgage, he said, "Thank God, old Moody and Sankey are clear once more. The hail has been so bad I should have been obliged to leave the state if I could not have borrowed the money."
In relating some of the experiences of the early settlers in "The Making of Nebraska," and of frontier life, I have not spoken of social conditions, so far. The first settlers were young or middle-aged people. They were generally poor financially. They were all confident of success and felt sure that in a few years they would be as comfortably situated as the friends they had left at their former homes. They were happy in making any sacrifice necessary in order that they might succeed. Socially they were all on an equality. They were all clad in plain, durable garments. Neighbors always exchanged work. They found practically the same kind of food on all tables, and it was served in the same manner.
Sunday was visiting day. The entire family would be loaded into the wagon for a visit to neighbor Smith. Smith's folks would not know of our coming but when we arrived they would all come out to greet us and express themselves as "So glad to see us all." Soon after our arrival another wagon-load would come and sometimes still another. Everybody was greeted with a hearty welcome and everyone seemed happy. Chick-

ens were killed and other preparations made for dinner. Sometimes the number of visitors was so large that the dinner table must be reset two and even three times in order to accommodate all. It was a happy day for the numerous children always present. We all enjoyed the clatter and confusion that seems to be an indispensable factor in child life. The conversation was generally about the weather, crops, future prospects, and, of course, there was some innocent neighborhood gossip.
As every farmer was his own hired man we were obliged to be at home by milking time. After the family was loaded into the wagon we counted noses to be sure we had all of our tribe on board. We assured the Smith's that we had enjoyed every minute and as we bade them good-bye we said, "Now do come over, and be sure to bring everybody." Such invitations were extended with the sincere wish that the parties might soon have the pleasure of another meeting.
There is a true sentiment of the, "common brotherhood of man" in frontier life. I remember a settler in Iowa, who had lost his right hand. It was impossible for him to comply with the requirements of the law as to continuous residence on his land. When it was reported that his claim would be jumped, we met and resolved, "That the man who dared try it would be hanged on the nearest tree." No one seemed to believe the claim worth the risk involved.


© 2002 for the NEGenWeb Project by Pam Rietsch, Ted & Carole Miller.