always known as the "Indian Orchard." There were at least
A BUSY LIFE 21
fifty, and perhaps one hundred, trees of natural fruit set out with-
out any regularity and wherever he chose to plant an appleseed.
I have often eaten apples from this orchard. Many of the old
trees were still standing when I was there in 1908.
I will speak of one other incident when I was four years old
which impressed me so much that I have never forgotten it. The
Mexican War was in progress and I remember very distinctly
hearing father and Mr. McMacken talking about a great battle
which had just taken place. I remember the place in the road
in front of the McCulloch house, where they stood. I do not
know what battle it was. This house, with its large garden and
orchard, the McMacken house across the road, the bridge over
the creek just beyond, the soap factory some ways up the road
and the graveyard between us and town are all clearly remem-
bered. This is all changed now. The house is gone and the city
occupies all that region. Captain Asa Fairfield lived about half a
mile from us. He was an old sea captain who had retired and
moved from Kennebunk to Fort Wayne and taken up one hun-
dred and sixty acres of government land in the early days. His
farm is now all in the city and closely built up. How well 1
remember Grandma Fairfield and her immense brick oven. What
wonderful things came out of that oven, not the least of which
were baked beans and brown bread. How many days have I spent
there during apple picking and cider making time. I had a very-
happy boyhood. I did not have the luxuries of life, for my father
was an invalid and able to do but little work, and many of what
are now called necessities of life were lacking I have often
wished that my boys and my grandchildren had the free, happy
life that I had. Both of my parents were earnest Christians and
my very earliest recollections are of going to church and Sunday
school and my life was guarded by them and every influence
brought to bear to train me for a Christian life.
Although we were poor and had none of the luxuries, we always
had plenty to eat and to wear. Mother had learned the tailor's
trade and had about all the work she could do, and father stitched
boots for shoemakers, so the necessities of life were provided.
Had they lived at the present time with its high prices it would
have been different. Then beef was five or six cents a pound,
butter eight to ten, eggs, six cents a dozen, and evervthing else in
proportion.
We moved from the McCulloch house about September or Oc-
22 RECOLLECTIONS FROM
tober, 1847, to what was then known as the Methodist Female
Seminary, and kept the boarding house at which the seminary
girls boarded. 1 was still very young, but I remember well two
incidents occurring there. One was when I had the measles,
mother holding me up to the window so the seminary girls could
see how I looked, all broken out. Grandfather Hatch and Grand-
mother Hatch had not had the measles in their younger days and
were so afraid of it that they kept all their children from having
it while at home. Mother caught it while at this boarding house
and took me into her room so I could catch it from her. 1 remem-
ber the high fever I had and that they gave me elderberry wine
to bring out the measles. I remember how good the wine tasted.
The only other thing I remember while living there was being
taken into the primary room and being seated in one of the little
chairs. It was only for a few moments, for I was too young to
go to school, as it was before the days of kindergartens, but I
remember exactly how everything looked.
We moved from there to the Stapleford house, opposite the
building known as Rockhill's Folly. Rockhill was one of the ear-
lier settlers and had become wealthy from the increase in the value
of his large holdings of real estate. Fie attempted to build a
large hotel in the western part of the town where his property
was situated, but had to stop work before it was finished, not
only from lack of funds, but also because the situation was not
suitable for a hotel. When we moved there it was an immense
building under roof, but going to ruin for want of completion.
It remained in this condition many years, but was finally com-
pleted and opened as a hotel by a man named Rumsey, but was
never successful. It was afterwards turned into a hospital and
is still used for that purpose.
My memory of living at this house is much more vivid than of
living in the other, for we remained there until the spring of
1850. It was a one-story frame and attic with the long way par-
allel with the street, and a hall through the middle. We occupied
the eastern half of the house. The next house to the west, which
was still standing when I was there in 1908, was a large two
story frame occupied by the Rev. Charles Beecher, brother to the
Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Charles Beecher was the pastor of
the Second Presbyterian Church (now the Westminster), which
we attended. Mr. Beecher was eccentric, as were all his brothers
and sisters. He was tall and slender and walked with long strides,
Second Presbyterian Church, Fort Wayne, Indiana, where Ivory G.
Kimball attended as a child and where he was converted
and married
A BUSY LIFE 23
without reference to the steps of any one walking with him. My
mother was a member of his choir and frequently walked with
him to choir meetings. The church was organized by the Rev.
Henry Ward Beecher while he was preaching at Indianapolis.
It was quite poor and had neither piano nor organ. Mr. Beecher
was the leader of the choir and after giving out the hymn would
leave the pulpit, and, standing in front of the choir, who were
seated in the front pews, would lead them with his bass viol. He
had considerable talent as a musician and was also a composer.
One Sunday all the strings of his bass viol broke except one, but
that made no difference to him, for he finished the hymn on the
one string. The church was lighted by lamps filled, I presume,
with whale oil, for it was before the days of kerosene. There
were two pulpit lamps. Mr. Beecher had very long arms and
when much in earnest would use them vigorously. I remember
one Sabbath that he became very vigorous and, stretching out hii
long arms, knocked both lamps to the floor, breaking them to
pieces ; but it did not faze him, and he went on with his sermon
as though nothing had happened. What a flood of recollections
come over me in connection with this church as I write about it.
My earliest recollections are of going there to Sunday school.
How old I was when I began I do not know. (My first recol-
lections are of going.) I must have been between four and seven
years of age, for just after reaching my seventh year we moved
to the country, too far off for me to walk the three miles to
Sunday school, and we had no other means of getting there unless
we secured a ride with neighbors, and few of them went to town
to church. As soon as I was large enough to stand the walk I
resumed my attendance there and I was a member of that Sunday
school until I came to Washington in 1863. How well I remem-
ber my first teacher, Mrs. Antrup, and the advice she gave me
when I was promoted to her husband's class. My other teachers
were Uncle B. H. Kimball and Cvrus W. Allen. During: all the
time, so far as I recollect, Elder B. W. Oakley was Superintendent
and Dr. Knapp the leader of the Bible Class.
In this church I was baptized, and in 1858 in the great revival,
known as the Revival of 1857, was converted there. During this
revival our pastor, who was that sainted man, Rev. Dr. Elroy Cur-
tis, was assisted by the Rev. Dr. Little of Madison, Indiana, the
father of Rev. Dr. George O. Little, who afterwards for twenty-
five years was pastor of Assembly Presbyterian Church of Wash-
24 RECOLLECTIONS FROM
ington. I shall never forget the time when I arose in church to
ask for prayers. Father sat beside me in one of the wall pews
on the right hand side of the church, about a third of the way
from the front. I can see my father now, with the tears rolling
down his cheeks as I sat down after thus indicating my desire
to be a Christian. I want to say that there never was a time from
my earliest recollection when I did not want to be a Christian.
My great trouble was that I did not know how to start. In every
sermon I heard I watched closely for some clew as to how I
should commence to be a Christian, but never got the help til!
that revival. I have no doubt there are hundreds like myself who
never have had a wish to live any other life than that of a
Christian, but do not know how to start, and ministers and Chris-
tians give them little or no help, but preach repentance when they
do not need that, but are ready to start when shown how. I
joined the Second Presbyterian Church in 1858 with a large num-
ber converted at the same time.
In that church I was married, and from that church my father
was buried. It is one of the most sacred spots on earth to me.
I must relate a very amusing incident which took place one
Sunday morning during the pastorate of Mr. Curtis. There was
a large choir seated at the right-hand side, and on a level with
the pulpit, in plain sight of the whole congregation. Uncle Samuel
was the leader. In the choir were my mother. Uncle Benjamin,
and three of his children, and two of Uncle Samuel's children,
besides several other singers. Uncle Samuel had just leaned
forward to give the piano player some instructions, as Mr. Curtis
began to read the morning hymn, "Old Coronation." Just then
Uncle Benjamin came in and, seeing the vacant chair, which had
been used by Uncle Samuel, took it back and sat down in it,
without the knowledge of his brother who, just as Mr. Curtis read
the line, "Let angels prostrate fall," sat down where his chair
had been with dire consequences to himself, as his 190 pounds
made a tremendous crash, and with dire consequences to the
risabilities of the congregation who were so convulsed with
laughter that they broke out during the whole morning in suc-
cession of giggles.
The only member of the choir who attempted to sing "Corona-
tion" was Uncle Samuel, and he never sang better in his life. This
incident occurred the Sunday after Mr. Curtis had preached a
sermon on "Levity in Church."
A BUSY LIFE 25
One of the great pleasures of the boys was to be permitted to
go into the belfry and ring the bell. For many years Mr. Allen
or one of his men performed this duty and I was often permitted
to do it for them.
According to my recollections I must have commenced going to
school while we lived at the Stapleford house. There were no
public schools at that time and I went to a private school taught
by a man whose school and dwelling adjoined the church. The
only thing I recollect about the school is the frequent trips the
teacher made into his house to get a drink and the frequent unde-
served thrashings the boys got as a consequence. I was not
allowed to attend this school very long. Another incident while
living at the Stapleford house occurred one Sunday morning.
Father and mother started for church and had gone but a little
way, when father had an uncontrollable desire to go back to the
house. He did not know of any reason for doing so, but the
desire to return was so strong he yielded to it, and found me
lying on the floor, choking to death, a hazel nut with which I was
playing having lodged in my throat. A moment more and I
would have been dead, for I was already black in the face. Father
ran his finger down my throat and shoved the nut down and
saved my life. I remember his doing so and how his finger, which
was larger than my throat, hurt me. He could not wait for gentle
means, but acted at once without stopping for hurts.
Our house was quite near the canal. Those having horses
stabled near brought them there to water. One morning I was
put onto one of the horses to ride, and when we reached the place
my horse lay down to roll in the sand, for I was so light he did
not know he had anything on his back. I was badly frightened,
but was off the horse before he touched the ground. While we
were living there the first telegraph line was erected and I remem-
ber very well seeing the men stringing the wires along the street
in front of our house.
Father's health continued very bad. His asthma was severe, so
that frequently for weeks at a time he could not go to bed, but
spent the nights sitting in a chair, and was unable to do any
manual work.
Mr. McCulloch secured for him the position of toll keeper on
the plank road running from Fort Wayne to Lima and we moved
to the tollhouse two and one-half miles north of the city limits
in June, 1850. I remember the trip to our new home in a wagon
26 RECOLLECTIONS FROM
The driver showed me a very large rattlesnake which had just
been killed and some boys sneaked up behind our wagon and
stole my fish pole. Rattlesnakes were very plentiful around our
new home and animals were frequently killed by being bitten by
them. I have heard them rattle ; the sound is like dry peas shaken
in a pod. To get rid of the snakes the farmers turned their hogs
into their pastures. Hogs are immune to snake bites and are very
fend of snakes as food, and they soon destroyed all the snakes.
The region to which father had moved was heavily wooded with
original growth — oak, hickory, beach and black walnut, with syca-
more along the water courses. The trees were of immense size
and of no value to the farmer, who was doing all in his power to
destroy them so as to clear the land. In the fall he would kill
the trees by girdling them and the next summer when they
became dry would set the standing trees on fire. It was a beauti-
ful sight at night to see acres of trees on fire from root to top.
It was not an uncommon sight to see a black walnut six feet in
diameter thus destroyed, trees that to-day would be of immense
value. The sycamore grew to a diameter of eight feet and the
big ones, almost without an exception, were hollow. The farmers
stood sycamore logs on end and used them for smoke houses.
The wooded condition of the country and the resultant stagnant
pools caused immense swarms of mosquitoes. As a protection
from these, smoking fires or smudges, as they were called, were
built in such a way that the smoke blew towards the houses.
Another result was the prevalence of ague, from which no one
was free. Quinine was the universal remedy and could not be
procured by the druggists in sufficient quantities to supply the
demands. Although I have not had an attack of ague for forty-
five years, the remembrance of its effects is very vivid. At one
time I had it for a year and the doctor could not break it, as
it constantly recurred, but finally my mother was told to give me
a tablespoonful of table salt dissolved in as little water as possible
before breakfast three mornings in succession, then skip three,
until I had taken it nine times. I took it three times and was
cured and did not have a recurrence for several years. It was
an awful dose and I nearly threw up my boots, and have hated
the taste of salt ever since.
The houses in the country were built of logs, some only had
the ends notched to bring the logs together, others were made flat
on the inside by hewing, while others were hewed on both sides,
A BUSY LIFE 27
the cracks in each case being filled with wood and clay. Usually
the houses were built in three sections, a square room of logs at
each end, far enough apart to leave a room of the same size be-
tween, the logs on the upper part of the house being long enough
to cover all three sections. One section was usually used for the
kitchen and dining room and for sleeping, the section between
for storage and general purposes and the third for sleeping. At
the end of the kitchen was an immense fireplace built of sticks
plastered with clay, and large enough to take in a back log six
feet long and two feet or more in thickness, besides an eighth of
a cord of wood. The back log would be hauled in on a hand sled
and rolled into a big bed of coals, and then hickory or oak cord
wood piled on and around it. It would make the room as light
as day and what a hot fire it would make. One's face would burn
while his back would freeze. On the other side of the room, op-
posite the fire, there were usually two beds, and if there were
small children a trundle bed besides. Frequently the space be-
tween the logs was not snow tight, and I have often found on
waking in the morning that the bed had quite a sprinkling of
snow which had sifted through the cracks during the night.
Many log houses had but one room and an attic reached by a
ladder. The cooking of the family was done at this fire place.
All boiling was done by means of a crane and baking by a cast-
iron dutch-oven buried in the coals and hot ashes — and what
splendid bread could be baked in that way !
The barns were built after the same fashion, the horses being
stabled under the haymow. Cattle were turned out to care for
themselves, usually in a field having a large straw stack, into
which they would eat, making large holes, where they were pro-
tected from the storms.
When a log house or barn was to be raised they had a "bee,"
to which all the neighbors and their wives for miles around were
invited, for no one could put in place such immense logs without
help. It was also a time of feasting and the assistance of all the
women was needed to prepare and serve the great quantities of
food necessary for such occasions. It usually ended with a dance
at night, to which the young people came.
I lived at the toll house from 1850 to 1863, when I came to
Washington. I lived a very happy life. My two brothers and my
sister were born there. The first brother died when about a week
old and was buried in the cemetery near the McCulloch house,
28 RECOLLECTIONS FROM
where we first lived. The other two were my brother Israel Ed-
ward, born February 12th, 1853, who has lived for many years
at St. Joseph, Missouri, and my sister, Jennie Oakley, born Sep-
tember 25, 1855, now living with me.
Being ten years older than my brother and twelve years older
than my sister, I had no playmates in my own home, which is
an unfortunate condition for any child, as children need the con-
stant companionship of brothers and sisters to keep them from
becoming selfish and overbearing. Fortunately for me I had sev-
eral playmates of my own age, the children of my Uncle Benja-
min, who had removed from Woburn, Massachusetts, to Fort
Wayne in 1855, and at whose house I was as much at home as
in my father's, and spent much of my time there. I loved them
and love them now as much as though they were my own brothers
and sisters, and they felt the same toward me. All these cousins
are yet living. William P., eleven months younger than I, was
a good soldier during the War of the Rebellion, a member of Sut-
termeister's Indiana Battery, of which two of my wife's brothers,
Algernon and Charles, were also members. Algernon first en-
listed in Co. E, 55th Ind. Vol. Infty., of which I was a member.
We enlisted together. He afterwards reenlisted in Suttermeister's
Battery and died of disease in that service and is buried in the
National Cemetery at Chattanooga, Tennessee. Laura and Mary
Kimball never married and are still living at Fort Wayne, Indiana,
and Addie married Wilbur Floward and is now living, I believe,
in California.
I left home to reside in Washington when my brother was ten
years old and have never lived near him since. After the death
of my father, June 3d, 1870, my mother and sister continued to
reside at Fort Wayne until January 2nd, 1878, when my sister
came to live with me, my mother coming that same spring. Their
coming into my home was a very happy event and they were
a great blessing to my wife and myself, but especially to our chil-
dren. Mother loved them more, I believe, than she did her own
children. When we were young she had all the cares of her house-
hold to look after, and to quite an extent helped to earn money
at her trade as a tailoress to support the family, and could not, as
a mother, devote herself entirely to them as she could, as grand-
mother, devote herself to my children. My sister has always been
devoted to them and did much to train them for God and right-
living. It was her custom to gather them around her every Sun-
I. G. Kimball at the age of 13 years; Jennie O. Kimball, age 18 months
and I. E. Kimball at the age of 3 1-2 years
A BUSY LIFE 29
day afternoon or evening and tell them Bible stories and talk and
pray with them. Their correct habits and Christian lives have, to
a large extent, been due to her example and teaching. Since they
have left the home nest and built nests for themselves her work
has been among the poor, the neglected ones, and what an un-
selfish work it has been. No sparing of herself, no weather too
stormy for her to go out. where help was needed. Her life has
been the ideal Christian life of self sacrifice and service.
Mother died at my house November 9th, 1891, and I took her
body to Fort Wayne and buried it beside the body of my father
in Lindenwood Cemetery.
Pictures of School Life in a Country School.
I began to go to school at the district school house very soon
after we moved to the country. I wish I could show you a picture
of that log school house as I see it in my mind's eye. It was situ-
ated in about the lowest, wettest spot to be found, at the corner
of the cross roads about half a mile east of our house. To reach
it in the fall and winter I had to wade through half a mile of
mud, which came nearly to the top of my boot legs (for every
one wore boots and I never had a pair of shoes till after I came
to Washington), carrying my noonday lunch in a tin bucket.
Most families sent several scholars and their lunch was usually
carried on a large plate done up in a piece of cloth. The teacher's
lunch would be with that of the scholars from the house where
he was boarding at the time. Teachers were boarded by the
families sending pupils to school. I will tell more about this when
I write about my own experience as a country school teacher.
The school house was built of unhewn logs with the bark still
on, notched at the corners to bring the logs together, and the
cracks "chinked," as it was called, to keep out the storms and
wind. This was done by inserting wooden chunks and plastering
the outside with mud. This left many places through which the
wind blew. The logs were laid one on the other until the proper
height was reached and then a roof of split shingles put on. Places
for the door and windows were sawed out of the logs after they
were in place. The door was made of unplaned oak boards fast-
ened together by battens, with home-made wooden hinges and
a wooden latch. The floor was unplaned slabs just as they were
cut from the logs, bark side down. The desks were made by boring
3 o RECOLLECTIONS FROM
holes into the logs and inserting heavy wooden pegs, upon which
were placed unplaned oak boards.
In those days there were no planing mills and few saw mills
in that country, all boards being planed by hand, and it was con-
sidered unnecessary to plane boards used in building a country
school house.
Our seats were unplaned slabs, bark side down, holes being
bored for the legs, and as they usually came through the slabs,
that part of the seat was not chosen by the scholars if they could
get a seat elsewhere. When the scholars wanted to write or use
their slates they threw their feet over the slab seats and faced the
wall. The teacher had only a chair and no desk. The teachers
were usually country boys or girls with but little education,
knowing nothing of the proper way to teach and very little of
the elements of learning. They could not teach beyond the rule
of three and knew nothing about how to teach grammar or geog-
raphy. In teaching geography the atlas would be opened before
the scholar and he would be directed to point out the places called
for, which after considerable searching of the map he usually
found. There was one thing, however, that they did teach thor-
oughly, and that was spelling. Every Friday afternoon there was
a spelling match. Leaders would be chosen and they would choose
sides, the whole school taking part. The teacher would com-
mence with easy words, until the younger scholars were sifted
out, and would gradually give harder and harder words until only
two or three scholars were left standing. To them were given the
most difficult words in the speller. Sometimes they would stand