This file portion of www.watertownhistory.org website
1871 Diary of
The Hart Family Wagon
Trip
from
Wisconsin to Iowa
The following letter was written
by Lovira (Grover) Hart to her sister Betsey (Grover)
Wheeler.
Mrs. Hart, with her
husband, Oliver W. Hart, and their three children, Ada,
Winfred, and Archie, left their former home in Wauwatosa,
Wisconsin, to find a new home in Charles City, Iowa. They traveled by horse and buggy. “Kittie” is the
name of the horse.
NOTE: Charles Walter Hart was not yet born.
Notes
by the way
Now the time has come for us to
start for Iowa. It is very hard to part with
those dearest to us, and to pass out into the unknown.
We glance at our dear old home, take
a last look at Father Hart’s place and got up the old familiar road. Bid the neighbors with whom we meet Good Bye
– stop to Speak with cousin, Lamyra – call at Judsons a moment, and proceed on our way to Jarvisee. Have a
quiet little chat. Have to choke down
our feelings and be brave as possible till all the Adieus are said.
Wauwatosa
Now we are over the town and county
line – our residence in Wauwatosa is all in the past.
Many familiar places in Brookfield
come into view – in the Cemetery near the Liett
school is an open grave. Someone else
has left their home.
The going is not very good. Shall be glad to reach the Watertown road.
There is quite a gathering at the
house where Mr. Rolph used to live. Think there must be a funeral there. Archie is happy – he sings and talks and
disputes Winnie. All the cattle he sees
he calls “Grampa’s” cattle. Winnie tells him no and then he very loudly
says, “Yes, yem are Grampa’s
tows, now!”
On the Watertown road but it is
quite sticky.
Pewaukee
Almost to Pewaukee – think we rather
eat our dinner than stop anywhere. So
Oliver drives down by some woods where the Blackbirds are chattering and gives Kittie her oats, and we go into our lunch pails. Grandma’s fried cakes and apples are
delicious, cold meat not bad. The
children are all merry over our way of dispatching dinner. Ada thinks it
“Tiptop”, no dishes to wash – Pewaukee Lake!
Hartland
Nashota
“Oh! See the water”, says
Archie. “There is a little boat,” says
Winnie. Hartland looks just as it used
to. Pine Lake! Archie says it is a “Big
dyke” – Now Nashota
is in view.
Oconomowoc Lake! We drive close by the shore and the road is
fine.
It is sundown and we are at Mr.
Carpenter’s gate. Ada
and Winnie will stay all night if they are home. Ada is going in to
see – I hear cousin Laura exclaim, “Why, Ada Hart, I
didn’t hardly know you.” “How you do
grow, you look just like Ella.” She
accepts our invitation and goes with us down to Uncle Daniels. At Uncle Daniels – Aunt Mary, true to her
natural hospitality thinks of every thing for our comfort.
Laura says that Mr. C. has gone to
Chicago to find his son, Frank. They heard that he was sick before the fire [the Great Chicago Fire of October
8-10, 1871] and not a word since.
The evening is wearing away and thus endeth
the first day of our journey.
Nov.2nd, 1871
Morning now – Ada
and Winnie have come and Mr. Carpenter with them. He found that his son was not very sick, but
had gone to Salt Lake City – I fear Frank is a fast youth.
Now we say Good Bye to friends once
more – feel sorry that we can not see the other relatives here.
Rock River
Out upon the road where we have
never been before (except Oliver) we pass a great many nice farms, and here is
Rock River. The water sparkles in the
sun as it winds its way among green bands and beautiful trees.
The road is not very good and we
ascend one hill only to see another. The
farm houses grow poorer, some built of logs.
We are getting “Out in the Country”.
Germans must live along here. Pigpens more conspicuous than houses. Turkeys look nicer than the inhabitants. Begin to meet more travelers – must be
nearing Watertown. Away in the distance
we see a large house on a hill, it is octagon with two verandas around it. The grounds are nicely ornamented. Here is Watertown. The city is neither elegant nor
beautiful. Rather filthy looking. See nothing attractive except the school. A
splendid looking building with the nicest yard that I have ever seen around a
school house. A large Elm, with various
other natural and ornamental trees make a delightful shade. The groups of children and Misses around show
that it is largely attended.
Out of Watertown one is Out –
no nice buildings along the way – no scenery worth looking at for miles and
miles, dirty and wretched homes on either hand.
We begin to think where we shall
stay tonight – are told that a few miles ahead is Hubbleton. The road is miserable – grows worse and
worse. A long way through a marsh, over
an old worn out plank road. It is very
hard for Kittie.
Oliver goes on foot – the old marsh is crossed at last and here is a
pretty little stream. We go over the
bridge, up a little hill and so. There
is Hubbleton.
Misery! One mill, one grocery,
half dozen saloons, one dog. Dwellings
without window curtains – all situated flat in the mud. We’re to go to the Rough and Ready house –
the houses certainly are rough enough and I doubt not the inmate are ready to
eat anybody – while we have been taking observations, Oliver has found a railroad
agent who says that we must go to Waterloo before we find a decent place to
“Put Up”. It is six miles and our horse
is tired but there is no alternative.
Oliver and Ada are laughing at me now, say
they shall never forget how my under jaw fell when we drove into Hubbleton.
The road grows better. It is sundown. Winnie is getting sleepy. Archie is full of fun and keeps us all
laughing. The lights of Waterloo are in
sight. There is the “Badger State”, a
nice looking house. The young kindly
looking landlord takes Archie in his arms and leads the way to a nice warm
sitting room – a good supper and nice room with two beds. Are all somewhat tired and retire early. Morpheas is
carrying us to the land of forgetfulness – but we are suddenly brought back by
a great incoming below. The [railroad]
cars must have come in. How they pour
in. Hark! Oh! Music – music and dancing! We are in for it now – well the music is
really nice and we hear nothing except for the “calling off” – “Oh dear! “ in a
whisper from Ada – what is the matter?” “How can anyone sleep with that pesky
fiddling down there! Wouldn’t you like
to see the Belles and Beaus of Waterloo?”
“No, I wish they were all in Bongay” – and she turns over and resigns herself to her
fate. The dancers do not tarry
long. The house is very quiet.
Waterloo
We are very nicely rested and Kittie is fresh and gay this morning. We leave the pretty little village of
Waterloo – The country looks very well but we see no places where we should
like to live. Pass a schoolhouse and
then with its little neighborhood, go over the hills and some rough
places. Are getting into the “Oak
Openings” and “Out on the Prairies”.
Sun Prairie
There is a very sightly
place. Can see Sun Prairie off to the
right. Can see church spires in several
directions. The road is fine and Kittie travels with ease.
Madison
Now we can see the dome of the
Capitol although Madison is Twelve miles away.
The country ahead is very beautiful.
Nice farms, buildings and orchards. This must be a delightful place to live. What nice times the young folks must have
driving over these roads, through these little groves. Third Lake!
How beautiful! We are near
Madison but the hills hide the city.
Driving up an avenue leading straight
to the capitol. It is very broad, and
lined on each side with shade trees, but outside of them it is a regular
swamp. Boggy and wet. We ascend rapidly, the wheels out into the
sand, and what seemed but a little way is a long distance. But we suppose to gain such high positions
always takes labor and patience. We
shall be called Hon. I suppose now that we have been to Madison.
We admire the splendid structure
which does honor to the State as its capitol and turn to the left toward the Rasdell House. This
house is very grand, but not so much like and comfortable as the one at
Waterloo.
Kittie seems a little lame this
morning. The hostler says her shoe is
the cause of it. Think we will take the
cars – Oliver goes to the depot. They
ask more for taking our house and buggy to the river than they did from
Milwaukee. He gets disgusted and
resolves to drive one day more “anyway” – Are all glad only have some
“Misgivings” about Kittie.
Leaving Madison we pass the state
University and the University farm.
Ascend a few little hills and we are in a most beautiful country. On the left is Forest Hill Cemetery and
opposite is the Catholic Cemetery. We
can look back and see the Insane Asylum.
Had no idea of the extent of those buildings before – a splendid farming
country is before us. The children
admire the large and brightly colored windmills that the farmers have to pump
water. Archie calls them wheelmills. Oliver
has gone into a house to buy some apples.
The kind, old lady says, “Now John you get some good ones”. John is obedient and fetches them down to the
buggy and Oliver brings a pail of water out of a well 105 feet deep.
Now through a German settlement –
nice farms, with Dutch written all over them.
Blue Mounds
An Irish neighborhood – can see the
Blue Mounds. We all exclaim, what is
that? Something
setting up through an oak grove.
It is an immense rock, three times as high as the trees and here are
more rocks. They form quite a cave with
a huge pile at one side. If they were in
Milwaukee County the whole city would go out to see them. The hills grow tedious. We walk up them Pine Bluff is in view. Will stop there and get warm, looks as though
it would snow.
Pine Bluff
Cross Plains
Pine Bluff is reached. With reluctance we go into the dirty hotel to
fire in the sitting room. Must go to the
kitchen – about 6 x 12. Oh! Horror! What a nasty place! The landlady says, “And now won’t you have a
bit of dinner?” We decline and the time
seems long before Oliver is ready. Has had Kittie’s
shoe taken off and shoe is all right now.
Our intention was to reach Moundville tonight, but these people say we
cannot, must go to Crossplains to stay. Do not know whether to believe them or
not. But we turn toward Crossplains. A wild
region is this. Sometimes on each side of us is a mound or mountain up and up
and great rocks projecting from their tops and setting out from their
sides. And now up on one side and as far
down on the other. We wind around the
bases coming to jumping off places apparently, but the road takes a turn and we
get safely down – surely here is another “Yosemite Valley”. In the center is a perfect pyramid. Around that a row of farms, and around all,
hills upon hills and on every side are rocks, immense, of every hue, and ledges
of stone and gullies add to the scene.
Black Earth
Crossplains!
We do not like to go where those hard looking Irish men sent us so we
turn our faces toward Black Earth – Are in Black Earth Valley, it is a long
narrow plain. Black and rich.
The bluffs set up high and bold along each side. The railroad runs through the middle. It is growing dark but we are near the
village. It is built around the base of
a bluff. Imagine a very large fruitcake
on a black waiter with small white houses for trimming and you will have a
miniature of Black Earth. We find a good
home for the night with a kind widow. It
is raining – we have to take the cars from here.
Did not rain much last night after
all. Is very mild this morning. Oliver proposed to drive over to Moundville
this morning and spend the day there.
Shall be out of the bluffs then and Kittie
will get rested for Monday’s drive. So
out of the valley we go and over the Mounds.
Some of them are very steep, no one rides except Archie. We take our time and enjoy this little season
among the “Everlasting Hills”. They are
more eloquent than any sermon this Sabbath morning.
Oh! What wonderous
works are here. Above, below, and all
around us are hills, grand and awful, some are covered with prairie weeds, some
with trees and rocks and some look like masonry from top to bottom. Oh! What a scene is here. Such beautiful rocks! Marble and purple. They project far over the road. We drive under them. They form a cave. Some one has housed their sleds and tools in
. . . Ferns are growing in the crevices as fresh as spring. A stereoscopic view of this would be equal to
any that I ever saw – up and up we go – are on the summit of the east
mountain. Wish I could describe this
view, but my notes are getting wearisome.
Moundville [Pokerville]
Are 1365 feet above Lake
Superior. After descending a long,
steep, strong hill we enter Moundville or Pokerville
– go to a hotel – what an old fashioned place. Must describe the sitting room. Very low walls – nicely white washed over
head, neatly papered, contains one bed, two bureaus, one stand, one wardrobe,
one center table and a Florence sewing machine.
Rag carpet. Stand cloth, Bureau
cloth, window curtains and pillow cases all trimmed with edging and as white as
snow. Lamps are not the style – candles
entirely.
Mount Ida
Wingville
Mount Hope
Am writing more than anyone will
wish to read. Will say but little, and
that in the past tense. Left Pokerville early in the morning – passed the highest mound
of all, on its top one can see fifty miles around. Wanted to climb it. Came out onto the “ridgeroad”
nice farms along but no houses in sight.
All down in hollows. Passed over
a large rolling prairie, three hills in sight all the time. Came into a beautiful country. Some timber and some prairie. In the little
village of Mount Ida we saw and spoke with Willie Proudfit (Daniel Proudfit’s
son). Stayed all night at Wingville. Landlord
was drunk. Ladies treated us well and
made us comfortable. Stayed next night
at Mount Hope (a village in a hollow).
Prairie du Chien
Nov. 8th – brought us to the river. Down through the Mississippi bluffs was some
very romantic scenery. Not quite equal
to the Blue Mounds though. Prairie du Chien is as level as a floor.
We crossed it at the new town, therefore did not see much of the old town. Saw where Jeff Davis ran away with his
wife. Had to wait
until two o’clock for the ferry boat.
Ada and Winnie took a walk along the shore of
the Father of Waters and fished out some shells for their cabinet. The Mississippi looked just as we always see
it in pictures. The Wisconsin was
perfectly beautiful where we crossed it.
We were 15 minutes crossing the river.
Kittie trembled but was very quiet. McGregor is a curious place. Built in a notch between
two bluffs. We got up through the
bluffs this side much easier then we expected.
Stayed at Monona
that night. The prettiest place we ever
saw.
Nov. 9th – we went to Ossian. Think it must be very pleasant in summer, but
seems to lack wood and water. (Saw Frank
Blodget in the evening).
Nov. 10th – brought us to New Hampton. A smart Yankee town.
Nov. 11th – we crossed an awful large
prairie. Nothing in sight but now and
then a large blue rock. How came they
there? Toward night we came into the Wapsie country. A
prairie crossed by many little streams which form the Wapsie-Pinaey
river. It was night. The road came to an end. Did not know which way to turn. Oliver went to a house to inquire the way to
Charles City. An Irish woman told him to
ford a little stream, cross a bridge. We
are afraid of Irishmen. Oliver took his
popgun out of his back pocket and put it where it was handy. We forded the little stream, drove a rod and
found ourselves in the water. Flags all
around us. Could see no road – no
bridge. Oliver jumped in the water –
couldn’t find any road. A voice from
behind says, “If I had of been in when ye called Mister, I could have told ye
better”. “Do ye see the bridge?” “No”, says Oliver. “Well I will just come down and see where ye
are”. “Och! Yer all right, just drive up this way a bit and ye will see
the bridge.” Bless that Irishman
forever! For kindly looking after
us. That was getting through the Wapsie slue. Three
miles drive brought to the Ely Hotel in Charles City.
Dear sister, if you think this long
“lingo” is worth reading, give it to Jarvis and tell him to pass it to Father
Harts.
Write soon. I am anxious to hear how Ella got along with
the journey. Direct to Charles City.
- END-
Cross reference:
[ 1 ] Charles Walter Hart was born in 1872 in
Charles City, Iowa. C.W.
Hart's parents were Lovira Grover Hart and Oliver W.
Hart of Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. "C.W.'s" grandfather (also a Charles Hart) was the
first settler in Hart's Mills (1835), later changed to Wauwatosa
(meaning fire-fly).
Annotated by Ken Riedl
