Chapter I

ARRIVAL IN RICE COUNTY

We had come to the little town of Cannon City, five miles east of Faribault, Minnesota, on the urgent invitation of Aunt Amanda Sanderson. I often wonder how she ever dreamed of tucking us away with her family which consisted of Uncle Eliphalet, herself and three children of pretty good size — Frank, Sybil and Willard. Sybil and Will were twins. I think there were younger ones, but these did not live beyond infancy.

Our family consisted of father, mother, Alice, Clara and me. We had come to stay till a home could be made for us. I was a year old. We came from Pekin, near Niagara Falls, New York, where I was born July 19, 1860, in the home of Grandfather and Grandmother Hills. I received my first name, Olive, from Grandmother Hills. Grandfather’s name was Hezekiah.

A QUARREL IN THE POSTOFFICE

Evidently, I made my advent shortly after the family returned to New York from Missouri, near Iron Mountain, where Clara was born. My father, Amos Ball Hills, was very antislavery and outspoken on the subject. One day, while in the post office at French Village, Missouri, a number of men surrounded him, and he felt sure they intended to do him bodily harm. With dark looks they finally permitted him to leave. Later he was informed by friends that they intended to mob him and burn the house. My mother said she prayed most earnestly that no injury would come to them. In a short time a man came into the yard and asked if the place were for sale. I think they sold the furniture with the home.

My father and mother had gone out from Oberlin College, he a graduate, under the “A.B.C.F.M.,” the Foreign Missions Board of the Congregational Church, and had served for a little less than five years as missionaries in Jamaica, in the British West Indies.

A little boy, Frank, and my sister, Alice, were born there. On the return voyage to the States, Frank died and it was necessary to bury him in the Caribbean Sea. The captain of the ship was kind and sympathetic, my mother said, and helped personally about constructing the little casket. It must have been a terrible ordeal, but I am sure my mother was brave. That was her nature. When they arrived in the States, there were the three — father, mother, and Alice. I have introduced you to Aunt Amanda’s family. We spent a short time with them and then rented a part of a house and moved. I think it is always a delight to a child to move. The thrill of new things is fascinating. I am sure my parents were grateful for the housing and care during those weeks. As I recall it, we lived for a time upstairs in the rooms of Mr. Albow. Later we lived in a red house, the Jepson family on one side, we in the other.

Father was interested in a mill. I suppose it was a rented interest. He and partner must have done fairly well. I think at least he was able to support his family. Life went on fairly smoothly, with the usual laughter and crying, playing and work. One day I was very much worried and frightened. The doctor was coming and I was afraid that he might hurt my little sister, Eva, who had come to the family a few months before. He lanced a “gathering” under her ear. I felt that he had almost taken her life. Cannon Falls boasted of two doctors — Graham and Dale. But I do not recall which of the two waited upon Eva on this occasion.

I remember another important person, Bishop Whipple, who came from Faribault occasionally to preach, primarily to the Episcopalian congregation, which met then in an upstairs room of some house, though they afterward built a church. I was too young to remember a sermon, but I do remember the very impressive shaking of the head as he spoke.

BEFORE THE DAYS OF PROHIBITION

There were amusing things, too, of course. I recall once, my father’s coming in, looking rather shame-faced, as my mother looked quizzically at him. A man, Amy by name, had become angered and had promptly attacked him. That was before the days of prohibition! My father never used an intoxicant, so the blame for the missing shirt sleeve must be laid to Mr. Amy. I remember pleasant outings to the woods to get plums and cherries. The pails were usually full when we returned.

They used to laugh at me because I insisted on singing what I wished to say: “I see two birds and a pig walking to the post office.” Mrs. Strouthers had beautiful flowers. We enjoyed them greatly. I believe they were given to us so that there was no temptation to pilfer the pretty things. I remember one incident that impressed us children. We were called during the night to go out and see two young buffaloes that were being taken through the town. An eagle perched on Mr. Roth’s rain barrel during the warm months. We were very curious about him.

The reverend gentlemen were Mr. Hoover and Mr. Carter. The former was a Congregational minister and the latter a Methodist. They both loved tobacco and I am afraid I was more fascinated by their skill in expectoration than in their tenets, as expressed in their sermons. The time was many years ago, but I still believe that they mean to be useful, good pilgrims in the earth. The names of various citizens of Cannon City come trooping to my memory: Godfrey (Carrie was my friend), Green, Greenville, Neal, Herriman, Lewis, Lucas, Dungay, Goodman, Jepson. We had Adams, Buchanan and Hoover, but I believe no Roosevelt.

My sister, Clara, and I were very ill with diphtheria, and she soon became worse and died. I was too young to realize what was causing mother to be so sad.

My mother was Sybil Barlow Hills. Her maiden name was Rawson. Her parents were Lymon Rawson and Charity, whose maiden name was Root. She was closely related to Elihu Root, later to be one of the nation’s most brilliant cabinet officers.

While we were in Cannon City, reports were constantly being brought by frightened travelers: “The Indians are coming!” There would be a time of excitement and fear, and then people would settle down to sane living again. We never saw them, but they were as near as New Ulm, Minnesota.

GRANDFATHER HEZEKIAH PROVIDES A FARM

While I was five and past, I began to hear the older members say we might move again. My father’s father, Hezekiah Hills, was impressed with the idea that a city was not the best place in which to rear children. He had offered to give my mother a farm and the offer was accepted. A desirable one, was, after much study and meditation, decided upon, and grandpa furnished the cash with which to purchase it. A house and stable were built. Eventually — it seemed eons to me — we were taken from our moorings in Cannon City, and moved to the farm. There were cows, horses, chickens, and later sheep. Goodbye to Cannon City! The neighbors were kind; there were beautiful grasses, many flowers in summer, and noble trees beside a restful lake — Crystal Lake. Of this I shall later speak.

We became acquainted with new neighbors in time. Each owned 160 acres — a quarter section! An English family named Pye lived east of us, Ackmans south, and a Norwegian family north, just beyond a pretty rise in my father’s farm. From the Pye home went a missionary to China. He was also a statesman and did a great deal for northern China, directing the building of roads and doing much constructive work until the time of his death a few years ago. You may have read in magazines of Watts Orson Pye.

There was a little stream or slough crossing the farm about an eighth of a mile south of our house, with a bridge, over which we passed to get to the main highway leading to Cannon City, but I believe we usually went to Faribault to make purchases, seeking larger fields. Isn’t human nature that way? Perhaps they thought they could buy more cheaply there. A trip from our farm to Faribault is, with imagination, described by my son, Paul, in his “After Supper Poems.” The poem is called “Miles of Yesterday” and I have chosen that title for these memoirs.

Between us and Cannon City were neighbors. I recall the French family, Cherbineau, the Ablemans, Swartwoods, Bondurants; Mr. Lyons, who figured on the district school board, and Henry Swartwood.

A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE AND HIS TROUBLES

Father, being an educated man, was made Justice of the Peace. Altogether he was a useful citizen — member of the school board — a figure in the church in Cannon City, and mother was a woman of refinement, with a wide influence in the neighborhood.

It seemed to me that somebody was always at swords points with a neighbor. Further east were Ole Olson Arnegord and Ole Olson Scoly, in constant turmoil. Ole Olson Arnogord would declare to my father that he would never speak again to Ole Olson Scoly “so long as I have warm blood in my body.” And the other Ole would promise as bad a fate for his enemy.

Mrs. Fisher was wont to visit the Justice of the Peace to complain of “Old Otto,” her husband. “Mr. Hills, I hate Old Otto as dearly as I loved him,” she would sob. There was always an attempt made to smooth over the trouble, till at length she met a sad fate. Climbing over a fence, she fell and suffered a serious rupture, from which she died.

There was a funny little German, Ellerbush. He was exceedingly untidy, but father was sometimes obliged to hire him to help. His English was badly mutilated. He would say:

“I give my horses oats, and I eat ‘em all up. I give my horses hay, and I eat ‘em all up.”

I must tell you of another character, at this time in Cannon City, two miles away, for the story shows how cruel older people will be sometimes, all unintentionally. This man, Abe, by name, took a rope and threatened to hang me. Of course I was almost paralyzed with fright. The more fright I showed, the more he insisted that he would surely hang me. I shall never forget the agony, though of course he was in fun.

Cannon City is the seat of Edward Eggleston’s “Mystery of Metropolisville.” The author used a prominent citizen as a vain and cowardly character in this book. People of Cannon City thought the book slanderous of this citizen. The story centered around the drowning of a sweetheart in the beautiful little Lake Crystal.