|
|
|
Augusta's 1899 Speech
Paper
of Mrs. J. Augusta Griffing of Manhattan, read at the Annual Meeting of the
Shawnee County Old Settlers Association, Topeka, December 5, 1899. In 1853 my husband, James S. Griffing of Owego, New York, after graduating at the Wesleyan University at Middletown, Connecticut, went to Indianapolis, Indiana, and while there was licensed to preach and put in charge of a mission in the north part of the city. Through his efforts a church was erected. In the summer of 1854, Rev. W. H. Goode was sent from the Indiana Conference to look over the church needs of settlers in Kansas and Nebraska. On returning he had been appointed by one of the Bishops to oversee the Methodist Church work and take some man with him who was willing to do missionary work in the new countries. J.
S. Griffing was recommended to him as one suitable, and was found on top of
the church helping to shingle it, and soon decided, ready and willing to go.
Rev. Goode started the last of September taking his family. He had two loaded
wagons and two strong teams. He rode on horseback, and the two teams were
driven by Griffing and another young man. They
reached the Missouri River opposite Kansas City on the 3rd of
November 1854, crossing that and the Kansas Rivers on ferry boats, having
great difficulty at the Kansas on account of a leaky and worn-out boat. They
were finally all safely landed, where a house was rented of a Wyandotte Indian
for Rev. Goode’s family. Rev. Griffing was appointed to the Wakarusa
mission. He traveled on a pony as far west as Fort Riley calling at the far
apart cabins of the settlers and holding meetings whenever a few persons could
be found and gotten together. Dr. Abram Still and family were living on the
Wakarusa as missionaries to the Shawnee Indians, and in their home he found
kind friends, were he could rest and study when returning from his long rides.
Part of the time his home was with Mr. Thomas Still on his claim. He would
sometimes get lost on the wide prairies and travel all night, and pay a dollar
for some biscuit for himself and a half dozen ears of corn for his horse. On
returning from his first trip to Fort Riley, he met and talked with the
founders of Topeka (near where Tecumseh now is) on their way to lay out the
town, where he afterwards preached and he also collected some money in the
east to help build a Methodist church in Topeka. In the spring of 1855 he came
to a crossing of a stream east of Lawrence and found a large crowd of drunken
roughs from Missouri camped for the night, who were on their way to vote the
next day in Lawrence. He had some difficulty in passing them. Murders were not
uncommon, and free-state men were often in danger. He was never threatened,
but told that he nor any other free-state man had any business in Kansas, as
it belonged to the south. Exposure brought on ague during the summer. In
September he went back to Owego, New York, his old home, and we were married.
He collected some money for a church in Topeka and returned to Kansas the
first of November 1855. Before going east he had taken a claim not far from
Topeka and paid a man to put up a log cabin, but on reaching Kansas City on
returning, saw the man, who said sickness had prevented his doing anything.
The steamboat coming up the Missouri was full of people coming to Kansas. We
left Kansas City in a two-horse spring wagon called a stage. We staid over
Sunday in Lawrence, and at Big Springs met Mr. Osborn Naylor of Tecumseh, who
with others was on his way to Kansas City for provisions. He told us to go to
his cabin until some other arrangements could be made, which we gladly did,
and were very cordially received. We found an empty claim cabin near by and
had permission to occupy it. Mr.
Naylor brought our extra trunks and a cook stove from Kansas City and we began
housekeeping in a very humble way. The November weather [in 1855] was delightful. Before
November was over my husband was taken sick with intermittent fever,
congestion of the brain, and typhoid fever following. The neighbors were very
kind. The fever lasted several weeks and no one thought he could live, and he
never regained his former good health. Just
as a change for the better came, our delightful weather changed also, and a
deep snow came sifting between the shingles, covering over everything in the
room with snow, there being no floor overhead. I put sheets up all around the
bed, but the floor was covered with snow, which melted, and the weather
turning cold, formed a cake of ice over the floor. When the fever left, and
the weather turned cold, he could not get warm, even with hot irons, etc. put
around him, and he shivered with cold. Father
Jordan who lived with Mr. Naylor that winter, came as he frequently did, and
seeing his condition, cried like a child, and said he must be moved. Dr.
Martin, who had been very faithful and kind, came just then and said he could
not possible live in that cold room and they decided to move him. Mr. Naylor
came with a wagon and they put in the bed with him on it and another over him
and carried him to Mr. Naylor’s hospitable two-roomed cabin. They placed the
bed before a blazing fire in the large fireplace where his chilled and wasted
body could feel some warmth once more. He was so grateful, giving thanks to
our kind Heavenly Father, that it brought tears to all eyes. This home was
already full, but there was always room and a welcome for others when they
came, which was often the case. He recovered sufficiently to go about, overworked, and was sick in bed again and not able to do much of anything until the fall of 1856. Father Jordan, Mr. Naylor, Mr. J. Stephenson, Mr. H. W. Curtis and family, as well as others, were very kind during all this time. Some time during the winter some one killed a large gray wolf near by and brought it for us to see. Mrs. L. Dolman and myself, with the help of the faithful dog, killed a prairie wolf. The
snow covered the ground until March, and some days were very cold. All but
five of the eleven who passed that memorable winter together, Mrs. S[amuel] Dolman,
Miss Mida Naylor, Mr. John Southers, Mr. J[oshua] Detwiler, and myself have gone on
to the better home. The
large hotel in Lawrence was burned in December of that year [1856] by border
ruffians. We all spent many pleasant hours before the blazing open fire, each
having different ideas and freely expressing them, enjoying our inconveniences
and privations as much as possible – eating our corn bread, often made by
mixing with water and a little salt, and baked in an iron bake kettle before
the open fire, with hot coals on the cover and around the kettle.
Never did corn bread taste sweeter or better than that winter when we
had such splendid appetites. A few quails were a welcome addition. We had some
milk but no butter, and the invalid relished toast with milk over it. In the spring of 1856 we had a small cabin put up on our claim, and Mr. Griffing would work in the garden awhile and then lie down, not being able to be up only part of the time. His side was badly swollen and sore, but Dr. Martin finally succeeded in helping him. In the fall Mr. H[arvey] D. Rice of Hartford, Connecticut, came to see us, bringing an acceptable package from relatives in that city, and he became one of our neighbors. Mr. Long and Mr. Green’s families were also our neighbors. In
the fall of 1856 Buford’s men threatened to raid Topeka, and I well remember
how afraid I was they would carry out the threat, and we were living on their
route. No one but those who have passed thro exciting times can realize how it
was, but I never heard many say they would prefer to go back to their eastern
homes. In
those early times when we lived in a small stone house we had a lengthy stove
pipe that had a faculty of coming apart and tumbling down, sometimes at
inconvenient seasons. One day I was alone and baking, preparing for the
company of some who would attend the Methodist Conference, soon to be held in
Topeka, when the pipe came down, and with all my trying it would not get in
place again. A half mile from a neighbor, and a baby in the house, I knew not
what to do. I watched for some one to pass, and finally saw a man in a buggy
and told him what had happened and asked if he would lend a helping hand. Two
could manage it better, and it was soon all right. He said he was a reporter
for a Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania paper and should write about the incident. [1]
In the spring of 1858 some relatives [Rev. Charles W. Giddings and family] moved from New York to [Table Rock, Pawnee County] Nebraska and brought a box for us from the loved ones at home. Of course I was impatient to get it and visit the friends, but there was no way for us to go but with an ox team and covered wagon. It took us three days to go and three to return, but we took books and papers with us and one would read while the other watched the slowly plodding team. It was a trip long to be remembered and we really enjoyed it. We followed the so-called “Jim Lane Route,” and forded the Kansas River from Tecumseh. Sometime
during the summer of 1858 my husband went on foot to his appointments across
the Kansas River from Tecumseh [while serving on the Indianola Circuit]. He was ferried across the river in a small boat,
but when he came back to the river [later in the day] the ferryman did not hear his call as a
strong south wind was blowing and he concluded to swim the river. He put his
clothes on some sticks of wood to keep them out of the water. The strong wind
blew the water in his face and strangled him so he was helpless to swim, but
he kept afloat and finally landed a mile or more below Tecumseh, although he
began to fear he could not reach the shore. One shoe was missing and his
clothes saturated. He promised me never to try it again. About
this time some acquaintance living then at Wabaunsee told about a family
living near there who had two children. The eldest, about three years old
would play by himself out of doors, and one day after the mother had gotten
the baby asleep and went out to look for her boy, she could not find him. She
called the father and they called on the neighbors, but no trace of him could
be found. About two years afterwards his little skull was found on the prairie
and it was supposed he was eaten by gray wolves. It frightened mothers, and I
could not bear to have my children out of my sight. In
1860 we experienced a drought long to be remembered. No rain to speak of for a
year, and one thing after another being planted, but nothing grew. Our garden
furnished little but purslain. [2] During
the summer we had one very warm day which we have since called “the hot
day.” [3] Dr. Joseph Denison, then of Manhattan, was riding on horseback to
Lawrence, and staid all night in Topeka, reaching our house about nine
o’clock in the morning, and it was so hot he decided to stay until cooler.
We had to keep the doors and windows shut to keep out the hot air, and had a
fire in the cook stove part of the time, and it was cooler indoors than out.
We heard that some thought the world was going to end. The next morning the
air was cool and fresh. The
burning of Lawrence by Quantrill and his men a few years later [in 1863] was a dreadful
affair, and many of us had friends and acquaintances who suffered at that
time. My
husband continued preaching at the different appointments given him until
health failed. He died in 1882, aged 59 years. J.
Augusta Griffing [1] This incident probably occurred in April 1858 when the third session of the Kansas and Nebraska Conference was held in Topeka. James & Augusta's oldest son, John, would have been about seven months old at the time. [2] Purslain or Purslane. Scientific name is Portulaca oleracea. Purslane is an annual that grows rapidly in spring and summer; it thrives under dry conditions. [3]
"The hot day" was Monday, July 9, 1860 when the temperature reached
115 degrees in Lawrence, Kansas. |
