Encircled by loved ones in Owego

This series of letters were all written in 1859. The first letter, written by Rev. William H. Goode, describes the death of his wife. The second letter was written by James Griffing on his way to Omaha, Nebraska Territory, to attend the 4th Annual Kansas-Nebraska Conference. James wrote the letter from his sister Clarissa Gidding's home in Table Rock, Nebraska Territory, while enroute. Enclosed with James' letter to Augusta was one written from 14 year-old Sarah A. Giddings to her aunt Augusta on the same date.

The fourth letter is a business letter from his good friend Isaac T. Goodnow, and the next several that follow are letters James wrote to Augusta while she journeyed to her hometown of Owego, New York, to visit her family and friend. The last of these enclosed a letter addressed to the editor of an Owego newspaper but Augusta did not forward it to him.

Dear Brother. We are all in tears. God has visited us. How kindly you ask about “Mother” – “Mother is well. She sleeps in Jesus. Yes, my dear wife, after journeying with me almost thirty years has gone to rest.

Your very kind letter reached me as I was sitting for the first evening with my motherless children just returned from the grave. Jesus came & took her to himself on last Monday morning after a most painful & excruciating illness of three days endured in perfect patience & resignation.

You knew her well, my dear brother. She was faithful to the last. Reason remained unimpaired. Eight children (all but Walton) were around her. She, even in the most extreme suffering, calmly gave directions about her household affairs & the preparations for her funeral. Addressing the children one by one – gave her dying charge – said her last words to Walton. Last, a most tender & consoling message for myself. Charged the children to be “kind to their father” – said “tell him not to grieve, we shall soon meet.” Charged all to meet her in Heaven.

Her Christian confidence was unshaken throughout & often expressed – almost the last words were “Rock of ages cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.”

So my dear brother, passed away one that you kindly call “mother.” And indeed she was not without something of a mother’s feeling for you. Your letter coming just when it did touched a tender chord indeed. How ominous your words seemed that you feared your wife never would form an acquaintance with her.” No – not in this world. Oh trust they will know each other in Heaven.

John Wilson was painfully broken down under her personal & affecting appeals. He is irreligious though kind. I hope it may do him good. Mr. Rains (Martha’s husband) is very low. My health is precarious this winter. The rest well.

No more. Love to Cuttie. In deep affliction. Your Brother in Christ, -- Wm. H. Goode

P.S. My way is dark. I know not but that my itinerant days are ended. But in this I leave for the Lord to direct.

We have just arrived, obtained refreshments, and seated ourself for the redemption of that promise. We were glad to find all well. They are living in the house all alone. Sister [Clarissa Giddings] looks a great deal more like herself than when we saw her last summer. So do all the children. We have found a cold ride thus far. Stayed the first night at Br. Hafer’s on Bill’s Creek and last night at Mr. Graham’s – that house at which we stopped to inquire the way in the hollow north of Sabetha. They are a fine family and invited us to stop when returning.

I have just read a letter from mother to [my niece] Sarah [Giddings]. She prizes it. [I have also read] one from Cousin Fletcher Redfield[1] to sister Clarissa.

I have had very cold feet. Have tried to get a pair of overshoes but have not as yet succeeded. It has not agreed with me much to ride so far on horseback. My old diarrhea has troubled me much the last two days. Am in hopes that rest until morning will help me. Sarah is writing a note to put in. She wishes she could be your company in my absence. So do I.

How is Johnny darling? Kiss him for me. It already seems a long time and I am not there yet. [2] Am glad such jaunts are so wide apart. Dr. Still, Clark, Lawrence, Robinson, Kinney were here Tuesday night & passed on the next morning. No other brethren have come on yet so we must journey on alone. Adieu, my dear. Your own husband, -- James

As Uncle [James] is writing, I though I would put in a few lines… I cannot think what to tell you [that I have not written] before. I got through that my ideas do not hang together well, but I must do my best and that is not very good.

We have a literary society here now and they meet every Wednesday evening to have meetings. One week they debate and the next the Ladies around Table Rock get up a paper and read it and the gentlemen speak pieces and sing songs and I think they improve a great deal (a “heap” as the natives say) in this way.

Our stock has grown some since you was here. I guess we have five cows and a yoke of oxen, and three horses to say nothing of the calf and pig & chickens. How do you get along now a days? Are you lonesome? I was talking of coming and spending the summer with you if you was not going east.

I cannot think of anything else to say for the present, Good bye, -- Sarah [Giddings]

P.S. The mash enclosed is from me. I hope you will accept it. Uncle [James] thinks I had not better put it in for it would get messed so I will send it by him [when he returns].

My Dear Brother. I learn through Mr. Mitchell, the Territorial Treasurer who issues the bonds to draw interest at 10 percent, that the dollars over a hundred or hundreds will, have to be simply a _______ for scrip as the hundreds alone draw interest. The business cannot be closed up until the return of the Governor, a week hence. Please keep the bonds till myself or Br. calls for them or writes for them.

I have listened to a sermon by Br. W. W. Moore. It was sound and forceful, delivered with a heavy voice. He has much to do to fill the place made vacant by the regrettable loss of Br. Dodge. I trust that Br. Moore will do a good work with the help of the Lord without which all labor is in vain. If ever a country needed a faithful gifted ministry, it is Kansas.

I feel greatly obliged my Dear Brother for the willingness with which you are ever ready to aide [in the] department of Christian labor. May God bless you and yours.

In 10 days please address me at Pittsburg, Pennsylvania in care of L. D. Barrows, A.M. I shall wish to know how the bonds run, that is the % etc. Kindest regards to yourself & Lady. Very Truly Yours, -- I. T. Goodnow

I sent you a scrawl yesterday and rode over to Topeka this morning to see if I could hear anything from you. Was glad to get your letter sent from Leavenworth but sorry when I came to read and find that your funds were not likely to take you to Woodstock. I knew you would worry and feel bad and was sorry I did not take you myself to Lecompton so that you could take the stage direct from there to St. Joseph. Then you could have your through easy enough and much quicker. That river route I think you will find more than two days long besides the extras if they take you around by St. Louis. I wished I could have telegraphed more money to you but could not. I forgot to mention to you Brother T. M. Eddy at the Office of the North Western Chicago. Should you not see Brother Cook? If you should tell him just how it was who you was, and that you once heard him preach in Indianapolis, tell him you did not come as a beggar, but merely to seek a favor, he would have accommodated you in a moment and treated you the best he knew how.

On July 21, 1859, Ralph Goodrich (Augusta's brother) wrote the following entry in the new diary that Augusta gave him:

Jim Mersereau staid with me & early in the morning before we had sat down to breakfast, [my sister] Augusta came in & took us by surprise. She carried her little son [Johnny] on her arms...

Have just finished washing my dishes, feeding the pigs, &c and after arranging my toilet, seat myself to again write you. I had company last night to stay all night – the old man Harvy (Quaker) & son. They have just left. He had come over to be doctored as he had an attack of something like the cholera morbus and placed himself under the care of the “renowned” physician of Tecumseh (Dr. Paddy). Thinks he helped him some and was on his way home. The old man has quite recently lost his estimable wife and feels his loss very deeply. She died after a week’s sickness, resigned and tranquil, leaving behind a host of friends and fully supported in the trying hour with the Christian’s hope. His son Samuel is at Pike’s Peak. Says just before he started among other things of which a thoughtful mother thinks, she, unbeknown to even her husband, placed a small bundle of neat white clothes in one corner of his trunk. She quietly said to one of his traveling companions, with a choking utterance, “Now if Samuel should die away in that far off land, I want thee to see that he has a decent burial.” He says Samuel probably knows nothing of her death yet.

It has been very warm and dry weather ever since you left and the ground is getting quite parched. But whilst I am writing I can hear the grim muttering of the distant thunder and should it bring a good shower with it, it will be very acceptable. I finished stacking my wheat yesterday. It makes two quite sizeable stacks and was put up in first-rate order. The winter wheat stack is considerably the largest. It has been such warm weather. I knew the little chickens would suffer if not kept constantly in water and it would go so soon in the shallow dishes, I concluded to bring down the old bake kettle and make it pay its way. So I filled it putting a big stone in the centre so that unlucky chickens could extricate themselves and placing steps on the outside so that the wee bit fellows could walk up and drink. I found it made a first-rate watering tank as they cannot easily tip it over and will hold enough to gratify the most thirsty.

Professor [Charles Wesley] Bowen, [Principal of the Topeka Normal School,] did not come over for some reason and I don’t know but he has really gone east. So I got Mr. Crawford’s boy to help me and we got along very well. It just sprinkles a little now but the shower is going south of us.

They are building a good substantial bridge over Deer Creek. Mr. [Clark] Wait of Tecumseh has the job for $1700. About 7 or 8 hands are at work and it is to be completed by the first of September so that you can ride over it after coming home rather than going up that almost perpendicular bank.

Yesterday Mr. [James] Mathews came here after some corn and offered me an early calf for 18 bushels. I concluded [to make the exchange] but when we came to measure, there was but little over 16 bushels that I could possible spare. So I let his wife have 2 ½ dozen eggs to square up [the difference] as she sent a pail along for some. They have boarders – three or four masons quarrying rock for their house. And now I have not a single egg in the house and I am at a loss [as to] how to mail my letters. But shall have to wait I guess until the hens earn me some stamps. – “Cut. Cut. Yes. Yes. Co – docket” says several. “We’ll do it. We’ll do it.” And I guess they will.

Today is the time fixed for Brother Curtis & hands, Brother Blackford & sundry others to make a trip out to Silver Lake on a fishing excursion. [They] are to be gone two days and take waggons along to haul their fish home on. I had a very polite invitation to mingle with the crowd and share the spoils, but most respectfully declined thinking a few old suckers wouldn’t do me much good…

Two days later. Yesterday [I] was quite unwell with a swelling on my left hand. It commenced two or three days ago – became quite inflamed. Yesterday had considerable fever and a violent headache. Last night [I] went and stayed to Brother [Osborne] Naylor’s. They put on pork. In the morning felt better. Today it has broken and discharged freely and feel like myself again. Father [Charles] Jordan has just been up to see me. We had a pleasant visit. [I] was at Brother Curtis’ this noon. They had fine luck fishing. Twelve went and got about thirty pounds of fish apiece, or 360 in all, and came back again the same day.

Later. Ben[jamin Curtis] and Shelby have just brought me over a pie & some fried fish. They are first-rate. Sister Curtis also baked me two nice loaves of bread. Shall go to the [Post] Office in the morning. Have two-dozen eggs. Yours, -- J. S. G.

I went to town yesterday and was greatly disappointed in not finding a letter from you. I should be glad to know how and where you are this morning. I suppose [you are] at home [in Owego] encircled by loved ones, all glad [to see you]. I have not yet heard one word since you left Leavenworth in that old Boat for down the river and I care more about the city of St. Louis than any other place, especially at this season. I saw Sister Whiting yesterday who said she wished she had known when you were going. She starts week after next to visit friends in Maine and will probably stay through the winter. She will take the Central to Albany and across.

Saw John Orcutt. [He] said his health was better than it had been. He was walking to town from [his sister] Nancy’s. Says he don’t think he will settle here. Took dinner at Charley Bowen’s. It rained and he was sick [was] the reason he [said] he did not come over. Two hens have hatched – one in the barn up high and one in the dog coop – some 8 or 9 apiece. I guess the one in the keg won’t hatch. She has been bothered so. We had a fine shower last night. Everything is fresh and growing nicely.

It has been raining most of the day and it has been a long gloomy one indeed. I should feel better if I had heard the first word from you since you went off into that old Boat feeling so bad. But here it is two weeks this morning and [still I have not heard from you]. I shall go to the [Post] Office again in the morning and if there is nothing there, I shall think surely something has happened.

My health keeps quite good. The garden grows finely since the rain. Abundance of tomatoes will soon be ripe. [The] cucumbers [are] due to pickle. The okra has on it [an] abundance of pods. How shall I cook them? I have two fine flowers pots on each window of portulaca. I wished you would write and tell me again about making pickles so that I will do it aright. I suppose cucumbers only need to be well salted.

Enclosed I send a letter to Mr. [William] Smyth, [the editor of the Owego Times,] which you will please put in an envelope and take or send to him [when you are in Owego]. And when you see him, tell him I became a little discouraged writing as none were printed, and I began to think he thought the paper could be better filled. My pen is just awful.

Does Johnny talk any better? Is he well? Had a letter from Brother [Asa] Brooks yesterday. Says his family’s health was never better. [His] little Frankie is entirely well. Have written to him and to [my brother] Ossy. Tell [your sister] Seddie to write [me]. This I believe makes my 4th letter. Yours ever, -- James

In the latter part of October 1854, after a long journey overland from Indianapolis, we reached the western borders of civilization and pushed out into these then wilds just open for settlement to identify ourselves with the sovereign squatters determined to use whatever humble influence we might to repel a threatening curse and help plant its institution upon such a basis as would be most in accordance with the rights of man, and would not prove a stigma to all the teachings of our earlier years. With our written history you are familiar. Yet after all that has been said of Kansas’ wrongs and abuses, the whole of her injuries, never have been, never can be fully told. But to speak of Kansas’ wrongs was no object in view. I presume yourself and perhaps not many of your readers ever made such a trip overland in a double waggon. And as the present developments of our country may number some of them among the multitude flocking to the New Eldorado, it may be that a little experience in traveling and camping out may not prove valueless. In the spring, summer, and early fall, it is a very pleasant way to travel in a prairie country – especially beyond the railroads.

It was our good fortune to make the trip with a family who had journeyed much in this manner feeling as much at home miles away from all human beings seated in their own family waggon as others [might feel] around their own cottage hearth. They traveled with two waggons – one to carry the family, the other household goods. Suitable waterproof cloth coverings were drawn over each waggon. A span of stout horses was attached to each and an extra hitched behind ready for any emergency, always handy to ride to a distant house to inquire the way, buy feed, ride ahead to seek out a good camping place, and all the numberless errands which such a journey requires. No person is fully equipped without providing themselves with a water-proof balloon-shaped cloth tent which can be pitched in about five minutes after digging a small circular ditch around where the outer edge will come to prevent an unceremonious bath during some of these very sudden inundating showers we have. In spring and fall the usual camping place is in the timber along some stream. In midsummer, the highest points of prairie are sought to avoid the multiplicities of punkies and mosquitoes. Here the ever-moving winds give no rest to the soles of their feet.

Circumstances must govern about the amount of provisions carried. If likely to be procured cheap along the way, better not haul them. Provisions for a long journey with all necessary cooking utensils can be carried easily. The luxuriant growth of fine grass will furnish abundant feed for your beasts, which can always be kept at bay with a tether. The streams are generally but a few miles apart and when there is uncertainty ahead about securing wood for camping purposes, be sure and get a supply sometime during the day for your supper and night fire. Then you are at home wherever night may overtake you.

In crossing ravines, it is generally best to keep the well-beaten tracks for there, stones and brush are thrown in to prevent miring. At other points, your lead waggon may sink so deep that extrication may seem next to impossible, and then its very sticking to one’s nature to [have] to wade into some bottomless mire hole to lift for hours at a time on some sunken waggon. I well remember an illustration of this fact in our attempt to cross the old Indian ferry at the mouth of the Kansas [River]. The family waggon was landed safely on the opposite shore. The horses were brought back to help the heavier waggon up the bank. We had just gone down into the boat with the heavier waggon and four horses and were all crowded safely in when water was fast seen rushing over the end board under the false bottom. There was no chance to retreat and in a very few moments must sink. Our propelling power was an old rope attached to trees on each bank, which was seized by the Indians, and the boat moved by pulling hand over hand. No sooner was our danger perceived than the cry arose, “All hands to the rope,” which was quickly obeyed and the old scow went plowing the water with great rapidity. When we reached about the center of the stream, the false bottom commenced flopping about the horses’ legs so that we were obliged to drop the rope to liberate the horses from the waggon. This left us at the mercy of the current, but the momentum already given caused one corner of the boat to touch the shore about fifteen rods below the ferry before she went down. The horses had already pitched out of the boat and were floundering in the bottomless sediment abounding at the mouth of this river and could not possibly reach terra firma. From ten o’clock until sundown it took our company aided by about twenty Indians to extricate ourselves. And Oh! Such an appearance as we made, besmeared and bedaubed with the nastiest, slimiest, greasiest mud, such as was mud that sticketh closer than a brother. Such happenstances are not uncommon when traveling upon the frontiers. But the roads generally are hard and smooth and generally follow the divides. Yet it is wise to heed this advice, “Look well to the crossings.”

A good fowling piece skillfully used will often furnish a plenty and variety of meat and many of the streams abound in fish. It’s best to follow the old road and avoid all cutoffs to save distance. In this way, many families can travel about as cheap as they can stay at home and have as little anxiety on starting a journey of hundreds of miles as others would go and visit a neighbor. The present year has far surpassed any former in the vast amount of travel through and in this territory. Some days the road would be lined from morning until night bound either for Pike’s Peak, California, or Oregon, and not a few to settle in the territory. A great share of the Pike’s Peak emigration returned before getting there, especially those not “counting the cost” before starting. Reliable reports are beginning to come in but none are flattering as yet. A young lady of this neighborhood writing to her father says she has seen but three white women since she left the settlement, that her husband has started a bakery in Denver City, that about 800 Indians are camped within a few rods of them, [and] that more than half a dozen squaws are looking over her shoulder whilst writing. [She also says] that in a few diggings, some are taking out [gold] at the rate of a hundred dollars a day [while] hundreds were working for their board, that much was being done by way of prospecting and they still lived in hope. My sheet is full. Yours, -- J. S. G.

Pages 1, 2 & 4 of James Griffing's Letter (page 3 missing)
Kansas State Historical Society

[1] Fletcher Redfield was either a son or a daughter of Peleg Redfield – an older brother of James’ mother, Lydia Redfield. Peleg had a son named Isaac Fletcher Redfield, born 1804. He also had a daughter named Roxana Salome Fletcher Redfield, b. 1817.

[2] James was on his way to the Annual Kansas-Nebraska Conference held on April 14-18, 1859 in Omaha, Nebraska Territory. James was ordained as an Elder in the Methodist Church at this conference by Bishop Levi Scott. Following the Conference, James was appointed to the Lawrence District where he served the Big Springs Circuit for one year with Rev. Levin B. Dennis as his Presiding Elder.

Elder's License of James S. Griffing
Issued by Bishop Scott on April 17, 1859

Bishop Levi Scott