Otoe county, prepared by J. Sterling Morton. Polk county, prepared by A. Nance. Pawnee county, prepared by J. L. Edwards. Red Willow county, prepared by Royal Buck. Seward county, prepared by O. T. B. Williams. Saline county. Saunders county, prepared by Moses Stocking. Sarpy county, prepared by S. D. Bangs. Webster county, prepared by H. S. Kaley. Washington county. Wayne county, prepared by R. B. Crawford. York county, prepared by F. M. Connelly. HISTORICAL RECOLLECTIONS IN AND ABOUT OTOE COUNTY. To James Fitche, of Nebraska City, the Society is indebted for the following recollections, reminiscences, and records. A portion are papers read before the Otoe county Old Settlers' Association, and others as furnished and published in the local newspapers. The following is a paper read by Mr. Fitche, at an Old Settlers' meeting: On the 19th of May, 1855, I left Muscatine, Iowa, in company with Mr. John Hays, Mr. Raymer, and Mr. Gates, together with their families, bound for Nebraska. When about half way across the state of Iowa we met families returning, who assured us if we went into the territory we would not get out alive. Our small party paused to hold a council and the majority were inclined to recede. I was consulted as the senior. My reply was, "On, Stanley, on,' we are this far, let us see the elephant." Had my family been along, my decision might have been different. I have always looked on that moment as one upon which hinged our weal or woe; especially when I look around upon the numbers it brought into this place, you would scarcely believe, were it possible for me to enumerate, and all due to my "elephant speech" on the bleak prairies of Iowa. On the 6th of June, '55, I first put foot on Nebraska soil, guiding the near ox by the horn off the ferry boat at Florence. Oh, how warm, and the river so muddy; it seemed thick enough to make slapjacks. I asked the pilot what made the water so dirty. He said 'twas the last river in creation, and when the Almighty finished all the rest he gathered up all the slops and made the Missouri. We camped in a ravine where now stands the beautiful and wealthy city of Omaha. LOOKING FOR SHELTER. The next day, in company with Mr. Hays, I started for Tekama. The first night out we experienced a terrible thunder storm, and not a vestige of shelter; not even a glimmer from a shanty to cheer the lonely night. The second day the heat was excessive, and doubly oppressive for want of water. Toward evening we struck a trail leading to timber which we followed, thinking to find water, but not a drop to moisten our parched lips. Upon entering the timber we saw a large tree with a chip taken out, and on close inspection noticed an arrow or finger pointing the direction we came, under which was written, "Four miles to Tekama." To the heart and hand that placed that small though potent inscription there we might attribute the preservation of our lives. It is needless to say we took courage and retraced our steps. About 12 o'clock at night we reached the city, consisting of one tent and two small cabins covered with bark. Here we found Mr. John Young, an old acquaintance, who gave us tea and refreshments which revived us greatly. After a sound sleep and hearty breakfast we each laid claim to a section of land, after which we returned to camp, feeling so rich. Go away with your small eastern lots. I would not take one as a gift. We have never since viewed our possession; for aught we know they have been sold for taxes. We again hitched up" Buck" and "Berry," and our party recrossed the Muddy, traveled down the Iowa side, and pitched our tents opposite this place. Mr. Hays and myself crossed in a flat-boat. Was kindly received by Mr. John McMecham and family, at whose house good square meals were dished up by a young boy who grew up to be the good man Edward Henry. AT NEBRASKA CITY. Wending our way up, not Main street, but a ravine where now stands Pinney & Thorp's mill; the hot sun scorching us suggested something to take, and had we known that Wallace Pearman could have slaked our thirst, gladly would we have patronized him, for we were "orful dry." After viewing for several days the beautiful limpid streams skirted with timber, the undulating prairies dotted all over with choice flowers, and comparing all with the country surrounding Omaha, we concluded to make this our future home. Accordingly, on the first of August I started back to Muscatine, Iowa, for my family, on foot, a distance of over three hundred miles, with a little "grub," a quart canteen, and |