Basin.

Notwithstanding his defeat in his pet project of founding a county seat Cadman secured a return to the Legislature for several terms, and had an honorable part in moulding the destiny of the county, in helping to secure the capital removal bill, and securing the location of it within her borders, and while Elder Young may justly be honored as the founder of Lincoln, to John Cadman belongs the honor of doing splendid work in securing a grand triumph in removing the Capital, and of securing the principal benefit to his county, and while he did not realize the full fruition of his hopes in getting it at Yankee Hill we are glad to know that he has been duly rewarded, and that in his green old age he is blessed with plenty of the world's goods, and friends innumerable to brighten his pathway. Long live Hon. John Cadman.

In the early summer of 1862 we had the pleasure of helping to raise a log house for Charles Calkins on Middle Creek on what was afterwards known as the Hartman farm and about five miles west of the city. This was the first log cabin between the Basin and the Grand Island settlement. In the beautiful month of June our good wife made a visit to Nebraska City and left us alone "with our glory" for a little season. One afternoon a vast throng of Omahas camped at the head of the Basin, but we thought nothing of it as it was a common thing to see great numbers of Indians on their way to their summer hunting grounds on the Republican river. John Chamber's family lived a little way from our cabin. We went to bed as usual that night with our bright sabre under our pillow, and a rifle standing within easy reach. Near midnight we heard a (not very) "gentle tapping as of some one rapping at our cabin door". "What's the matter?" we cried: "Matter enough" says poor trembling John, his wife clinging to him like grim death, and crazed with fear. "The Indians are upon us, for God's sake what shall we do?” Whether we dressed or not you may guess. We forgot that we ever had a sabre or a gun. When we awoke our ears were greeted with the most unearthly sounds as if a thousand devils were let loose. We all ran as most folks do when badly scared, and we hid as best we could among the hills, and waited the coming of events which we expected in about a minute. The pandemonium continued but came no nearer. We waited patiently for the enemy but they did not come. We were disappointed. The Indians were expecting to

meet their mortal foes (the Sioux) on their hunting grounds and were having a war dance "only this and nothing more."

Salt Creek and its principal tributary Oak Creek were wonderfully well supplied with fish. Black suckers and buffalo were the leading varieties. The settlers had plenty of sport and much profit in fishing. We all had plenty of fish; great numbers were caught that would weigh ten or fifteen pounds each, and we have seen them that tipped the beam at thirty-five pounds. Elk and antelope were plentiful and the Nimrods of that day had great and exciting sport in the chase. Some of the settlers spent a great portion of their time roaming the prairies in search of game. Many of them never came home without a supply of meat. If elk could not be found or captured, some luckless freighter's steer had to suffer the ordeal of being converted into elk meat. Many a steer has undergone the change in short order, and Mr. Steer's only safety was in staying close to camp. The basins were a great place

for wild water fowls to congregate.

Geese, brants, swans, ducks, and pelicans were there by the thousands; it was the hunter's paradise. Wild fruits, such as grapes, plums, goose-berries, and alder-berries were abundant along the streams, and were gathered by

the bushel.

As the Union armies regained the rebels trongholds of Missouri, great numbers of rebels found it convenient to find other quarters, and many of them seemed to have the idea that salt would save their bacon, consequently hordes of them would gather at the Basins and frequently they would show their rebellious spirits in acts and words that were very unpleasant for Union men to endure. At one time they became so insolent and threatening that the Union men of the valley thought it necessary to organize for self defense. Our Missouri friends came to the conclusion that "discretion was the better part of valor," so nothing very serious occurred.

Elder Young preached the first sermon of the locality at our house, on the Sabbath following the Fourth of July '62 to a fair sized congregation. A Sabbath school was organized very soon afterwards, and was of great value to the youth of the community. This was probably the first Sabbath school between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains. Religious meetings were held quite frequently under the leadership of Elder Young,

Rev. Dr. McKesson, and Rev. Peter Schamp, and other ministers that chanced to stray so far into the wilderness.

As a general rule the settlers enjoyed themselves very well and were reasonably prosperous, but it was not always so. Sometimes winter storms would shut us off from communication with the world at large, and provisions would get short, and we would be driven to desperate straits. We have known families to live on boiled corn or wheat for a week at a time with no seasoning but salt. The winter of '63 and '64 was a most desperate one. The cold was extreme. The last day of December' 63 was a memorable day for the intensity of the cold. We had no thermometer except

our own blood and that told us that it was the most bitterly cold day of our life. Snow and salt combined to make our home about the coldest spot in North America. We afterward learned that at Burlington, Iowa, the thermometer indicated thirty degrees below zero. That winter was one of much suffering. Salt had declined materially in price and the demand had fallen off, while the wood for boiling had become scarce, and the weather was so severe, and it seemed that all things conspired against the people, and for a time the whole settlement was on the verge of starvation. The spring of '64 found the settlement in rather a dilapidated and impover ished condition, but hope soon revived. Immigrants began to arrive in goodly numbers, and they began opening up farms, and that gave new life and hope to all. Settlements began to extend westward, and all the people began to have more faith in Nebraska. It may be well to relate here, a common saying of those days just to show how absurd the expressed views of many people were in regard to this country. If an incoming immigrant talked of going over to the Blue Valley to look for a location, he was told at once that it was of no use to look at that country for it never rains west of Salt Creek. That fool notion had become so thoroughly imbedded in the minds of many of the early settlers, that we expect that some of them firmly believe it to this day.

It has been claimed that F. Morton Donevan was the first white child born in the locality, but the locality was very large, for the fact is he was born on Stevens Creek ten miles distant. The first white child born at the Basin or in the immediate vicinity of the present city was a son born to Joseph Chambers in the summer of '62. He

died in infancy. Our son Elmer Elsworth Cox was born March 3, '63 and was the first white child born in the immediate vicinity that is now living. There were some exciting and almost ludicrous scenes in the courts at the Basin. Milton Langdon and J. S. Gregory were the two prominent attorneys, and in all matters of judicial nature they were arrayed against each other. They were both of them keen and tricky, ever on the alert to catch the enemy napping and they had some high times. Occasionally a case would arise that tried the mettle of court attorneys and officers. A rough customer who it was said had graduated in the Rebel army had put in an appearance, and had made some violent threats in which he promised to kill some citizen. An information was filed and a warrant was issued and placed in the hands of the sheriff. A crowd gathered at the court room and it soon became known that the culprit refused to surrender to the sheriff. All became excited and while the court was giving some directions to the citizens about assisting the sheriff, the fellow came stalking into the court room, carrying his rifle in a position for immediate use. The sheriff followed at a convenient distance of probably ten rods. The court invited the man to take a seat which was promptly declined, but he took a careful survey of the court and all the surroundings and with the rifle ready cocked and finger on the trigger, he began to retreat and all hands seemed to stand out of his way. The Justice remarked to the sheriff and posse "you will be justified in taking that man if you have to kill him to do it", but they didn't take him. He backed off with drawn weapon and bid defiance, and no one was willing to take the risk of his capture. He was bent on vengeance and had no intention of leaving until he had wreaked it on somebody. He became angry at the Justice for saying "take him dead or alive", and during the next morning while his Honor was busy at his salt furnace he happened to observe the sneaking scoundrel creeping up a little ravine in the rear with a view of getting a sure shot at him, but finding that his victim had observed him he started off at a rapid pace across the Basin. His Honor quickly halted him. He instantly cocked his rifle, but sternly and most emphatically his Honor commanded a truce, and marched straight up to the fellow, who curled down like a whipped cur, and received a court blessing in the open air and took his final departure for parts unknown. Had it not been for a

good degree of firmness on that occasion it is quite probable that some other speaker would have had the honors of this occasion.

On the morning of August 20; 1862, there was a heavy frost that killed all the corn on the lowlands throughout Nebraska.

During the spring of 1863, J. S. Gregory built the first frame house in the vicinity of the Basin, and made extensive improvements. Mr. Eaton of Plattsmouth, an uncle of our friend Gregory became quite well acquinted with him during these years and their fraternal relations are spread upon the court records, for many years, of Lancaster county. Settlements increased rapidly during the spring and early summer of '64, but took a serious setback later in the season on account of the Indian troubles so that the number wintering here in the winter of '64 and '65 was hardly greater than in the winter previous.

The first term of district court was held on the eighth day of November 1864 (the day Lincoln was elected to the second term) in Jacob Dawson's double log cabin and was presided over by his Honor Judge Elmer S. Dundy with the same dignity as is manifest in these days in the great Government Courthouse. Members of the bar present were Hon. T. M. Marquette and Judge Pottenger of Plattsmouth. Uncle Jake's cabin stood just where Commercial block now stands. Uncle Jake was put to straits to properly entertain the Judge and attorneys. We remember that he came over and borrowed all the store coffee at the Basin. As if to add to the pleasures of the occasion we enjoyed a regular blizzard of whirling, drifting snow. The Judge appointed Pottenger prosecuting attorney and friend Pott, as we called him, drew up one indictment against one Pemberton for shooting into a bird's nest. The charge was malicious assault with intent to kill. His Honor allowed Pottenger seventy-five dollars. Marquette defended Pemberton for ten dollars, and quashed the indictment, and Pemberton skipped the country before other proceedings could be had. The story of the crime is as follows: Old man Bird had some difficulty with Pemberton about the chickens and one of the young birds (a pullet) sung some unsavory songs for Pemberton's benefit. Pemberton met the old bird at the door one morning and demanded satisfaction, and finally drew a revolver and shot, the ball missing the old bird, but passing through the door and lodging in the wall just above a bed