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in time of war the government has a right to impress anything.
In the fall of 1860 Koenig & Wiebe were doing a good business, as many Germans were coming in to settle on the island and the Platte bottom. My father was the only physician between Columbus and old Fort Kearney, but as a general thing the people were very rugged and healthy, and there was but little sickness. He, however, made calls to the German settlement at different times, but his practice did not amount to much, he coming here to make a home for his family.

"Other Settlers for Valley."
Richard Moore, Anthony Moore, Patrick Moore and James Jackson took up claims on Wood River in the same year. Judge Beel and his family also settled on Wood River. A man by the name of Townsley, foster father of Mrs. William Eldridge, with his family, settled on what is now known as the Gallup farm south of Alda

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on Wood River. He had been in the employ of the government at Yankton Sioux reservation for twelve years as interpreter, but as the government had made a treaty with the Indians, they did not require his services longer. For his faithfulness he was presented with a saw mill. As there was plenty of timber along the Platte, so that he could easily erect a dam across Wood River to get water power, it was not long before he had his mill in operation. Settlers then began drawing logs, and had them cut on shares, and boards became a curiosity. Mrs. William Eldridge at this time was a rosy cheeked young woman. She was English by birth, but when seven years of age her parents died and her only aunt took her and promised to raise her to womanhood. When twelve years of age the aunt joined a colony of Mormans [sic], who were converting English and American

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people to the Morman [sic] faith. The aunt with her young charge joined a colony of Mormans [sic] which took passage on the high seas, their destination being St. Louis. But the aunt was taken sick when part way over, and died, they burying her in a watery grave. There was no one she could call her own, so the Mormans [sic] took charge of the child until St. Louis was reached. Then they went aboard a steam boat for Florence, Neb., just north of Omaha, where a church train of Brigham Young was waiting for them.

"Story of a Waif:"
This train was loaded with freight for the great Salt Lake Valley, the colonists put on their trunks and baggage and signed a contract with Brigham Young. He was to board them and draw their baggage across the plains for a stated price each, but they were compelled to walk. The wagons were very heavily loaded and required four yoke of oxen

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to the wagon. A church train consisted of thirty wagons, and a Morman [sic] preacher accompanied each train, holding services each evening on the journey. They averaged twelve miles per day. This orphan child, Sarah S. Shenton by name, had no one's care and attention, and at Florence was noticed by the government interpreter, Mr. Townsley, who happened in Florence on business. Receiving the consent of the Mormons he adopted the child, took her home, and placed her in the care of his wife and children, who lived on the reservation. There she saw Indians for the first time, and Indian children with all their amusing tricks. The Indian squaws took great pride in her a[nd] taught her to sew hides, taught her to braid rawhide for lassos, to make buckskin leggins [sic], sew beads on moccasins, make and trim buckskin shirts for Indian maidens. She became quite a favorite among the Indians and

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it was not long until she could perform Indian tricks. She was very quick in picking up the Sioux and Cheyenne tongue, as she heard no other language spoken, and soon herself spoke it to perfection. She was taught to ride bucking ponies and mules, and became a good rider. She could throw a lasso equal to any of the Indian maidens of the tribe. In all she lived with her foster parents on the Indian reservation eight years. As said, when the government no longer needed the services of Mr. Townsley as interpreter, he and his family, and adopted child moved to Wood River. The latter's Indian maiden friends shed tears of regret at her departure and told her if she ever was lonesome to return to them under the green willows in their fortress home.

"An Early Romance"
William Eldridge, drawing logs to the mill, became infatuated with her.

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He owned a yoke of oxen and wagon, and had a log cabin on his claim. A man who owned a yoke of oxen and wagon in those days was considered in good circumstances. He took a load of lumber home to his cabin and made a cupboard and a table, stools, benches and a bedstead, which he filled with grass and covered with a buffalo robe. He therefore had fitted up his cabin to look real homelike. One Sunday morning of the same year Mr. Eldridge went to take Miss Sarah out riding, putting a board across the wagon box for a seat. Oxen do not travel fast, and you have to use a little whip power to keep them on a small gallop, tapping first one and then the other. He was discussing his plans to the young lady, and became so deeply interested in his conversation, as I imagine most young men do when in love, that his whip stopped. And so did the oxen. He got his whip into play again, and got

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the oxen started, but embarrassed, he forgot where he left off, and had to commence all over again. He became confused and she suddenly asked him what in the world he "was trying to get through him." He answered that he wanted her for his wife. She asked him why he didn't say so in the first place, and not indulge in such a lingo as all that. A few days later they were married by the late Fred Hedde. To my knowledge that was the very first marriage that took place in the Wood river valley. They moved at once to their cabin. Jess Eldridge, a brother of William Eldridge, who held the claim now owned by Ed. Crawford for, two years, made his home with them for a short time, then departed for the gold fields of Colorado. But cotton wood lumber is not what it is "cracked up" to be. The heat of the stove made the legs of the table whoop out and to warp under the table, making it a funny looking concern.

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The bedstead also soon became affected by the heat, and became lopsided. William was obliged to tie it to the side of the log cabin to keep it from crawling out of doors. The settlers soon learned that cottonwood lumber had to be seasoned before using.

"When Shoes Were High"
All the settlers were very considerate of each other, treating all like brothers and sisters. What one had the others were welcome, as all depended on each other for their welfare and protection. My father and us boys had finished putting up hay for the stage company, but had nothing coming in, and were very skant [sic] on clothing. He had gone barefooted all summer. Mr. Hansen had spoken to my father, telling him when the corn was ready to shuck, he would teach us to shuck corn and pay my father in corn. Just before corn shucking my father made us all some

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shoes out of green buffalo skin, turning the hair inside, and sewing them up with badger skin strings. They were the warmest things we ever had on our feet. We helped Mr. Hanson to shuck all his corn out and helped him to shell it all out, which gave my father quite a start in flour for corn bread. About the middle of December about six inches of snow fell, and it looked as though winter was going to set in. My father thought we had better get a lot of wood to last us until spring weather. As wood was very plentiful three-quarters of a mile from our cabin my older brother and I started after wood. Our buffalo skin shoes became wet and stretched about a foot and a half long, and when we walked rolled up under the ball of our feet, tripping us. We couldn't walk so came back to the house, took them off and put them before the fire place, and they drew up so we couldn't get one toe in them

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afterwards. They were alright as long as the weather was dry. The stage company gave my father a large bale of new gunny sacks. As they were in the way my mother made each one of us boys a jacket from a gunnysack, cutting three holes in each, one for our head, and the other two for the arms. She whipped them around us with cord to keep them from fraying. We also wrapped our feet up in gunnysacks, tieing [sic] them with strings of buffalo skin. Our straw hats that we wore out here fell to pieces with old age. With our heads and ears wrapped up with a piece of blanket, we must have been odd looking little people as we set out on our task to secure wood. My brother and I hauled up three big loads of wood the first day. We found that our gunnysack shoes made very queer tracks in the snow when we returned for the second load. While getting wood it turned colder, and