Year: 1873

more than nineteen years ago. The
writer was then youth of eleven sum-
mers, while the present city of Hastings
was but a baby of one years growth.
Hertzel's store and Barker's hotel were
about the only business places in town.
/ don't remember whether there were
any saloons there or not, quite likely
there was one, at any rate there are
plenty of them now. But the trip. It
Was not by rail, for the sbrill whistle o
the locomotive had never yet disturbed
the balmy air of Minnesota. Itwas not
by stage, for no puffed up, consequential
driver had ever yet astonished the ma
tive wolves, and Indians Of Dakota
County with the sharp crack of his
mighty whsp, and the spirited prancing
of his foam-covered steeds. Neither
was it by riding in a lumber wagon, be-
hind pair of fine bays, fat and sleek,
such as travel the roads in these days,
but on foot, that most antiquated and
Independent method Of locomotion, and
in the society of that most indispensable
companion of the pioneer farmer, the
toiling, docile and patient Ok.


Four stalwart men in the prime of
life, who had left their families hundreds
of miles behind them, to find
a better home in the far distant
west, boy to be the cook, yoke Of OK
en- to carry the extra clothing and pro-
visions, pointer" dog and fat COW
constituted the entire party that struck
out from the village Of Hastings, in
search Of the land of promise on
that memorable 9Th day of Oct.: "a, a
mile and half through the timber that
surrounded the village, and we arrived
at Vermilion Falls, where few timbers
were piled together, and man, with
ma)let and chisel in hand, prophesied a
future mill. Stephen Gardner had
never heard or dreamed of Vermilion
Falls at that time. After few words
with Mr.. Thomas Howes. who is prob
ably the Oldest farmer in the County,
we launched forth upon the broad ex-
panse Of prairie which stretches slowly
away from the Vermilion to the Cannon,
and beyond; over flat and rolling prairie
we slowly wound our way, and in the
haze of the far off horizon of that Indi-
an Summer day, we fancied we could
descry the land we were in search of,
land flowing with milk and honey"
Prairie hens start up from our feet,
ducks and geese fly over onr heads,
prairie wolves stand and gaze at us
from a safe distance, then stink off to
their holes, and now two large greys
reconnoiter us from a distant hill TOP
and conclude they are not strong
enough for an attack, and retire. Hour
after hour we beheld nothing but a
houseless, fenceless, farmless, almost
endless prairie. Houseless, did we say :?
Mistaken just once, for about the middle
Of the afternoon we came upon tavern,
which though long since obliterated,
ne sincerely hope will yet live in histo.
ry. This edifce was not built of stone
nor yet Of brick, not even timber, but
sods taken from the green. rolling
turf: Twas all the prairie had to give,
twas freely given Not having the
pleasure Of inspecting the interior of
this building, we are unable to describe
its different apartments, departments
and compartments however, we may
safely say that its accommodations we're
not such as would be required of a
modern Saratoga hotel. In saying
this no slur is intended u, on the :' Sod
Tavern"


But we. must not daily here. There
are yet many weary miles to be trodden
ere we lay ourselves to rest. We push
on toward the setting sun. Night
comes on apace. darkness settles down