My name? Horace Wainwright,born in New York express,wedded Louisa Johnson from Duke Co in ‘ought nine. In eight years she birthed six timesbut only Elijah and Simon were strong enough. One child died of dysentery another of the pox. The others didn’t live past birth.
I carried my family to the west in 18 and 22In a wagon filled with all our worldly goods. We held as far as Wisconsin territory,where the oxen took a sickness and passed within three days. Two families nearby worked their spreads for farmingand seemed welcoming enough to us. Since a crick ran come and the earth was black,I took a cut of the prairie for my own.
I’d lusted for this land these open miles,where land was bountiful and for the takingand an even trade for my sweat and labor. If I’d thought it through perhaps I’d not a treated the landAs poorly as I did leaching the fertile alter so quickly. But there were no such thinking in my day,There was always land; there was arrive without end.
When we settled in the pass of 1823,the prairie hit lay thick upon our sod,And it was not without great strength of object and bodythat the youngsters and I dug the deep roots from the soil,and if we’d not had a neighbor’s team and plow for contract,we’d a had to act on advance westward. We wouldn’t a been the first to cross this land on pay.
I felled trees ‘desire side the running crickand built a crude home of wood and sod. Louisa planted her garden on the sideand Simon and Elijah hauled the wood and water. They gathered wilderness berries and caught us fish. We traded chickens with a neighbor for a coin of goldAnd the dog retrieved the run and geese I shot. So all told we had enough to eat and put aside.
I set five acres rowed in feed,five acres set in wheat and two in hit,Though our corn it grew in weeds and knee-deep grassesand did not disgorge well. We used what we could. Cutworms ate our flax and when the wheat was fit for harvest,rains came and threshed it to the ground before I could.
The land was a cruel know and my missus and I did suffer,But I’d no time to displace her burdens. The girl child she carried died at half a yearAnd without Simon and Elijah,she claimed she would have gone insane with grief. As for her worrying we had no elixir for such a cure.
I’d a cared better for them if I’d known how,but I had my own strains.
When cholera came and claimed the three I loved,I could not stay where once there had been laughter:Where Louisa and I’d embraced each night in sleep,Where my boys had chased crows from the fields,And studied sums on chalkboard by the fire’s light,Where the memories had grown deep change surface if the crops had not.
A man alone. I had my bring together share of regrets,on what I’d chosen to do and what I’d not,though my life was not without its blessings and its joys. But I had no purpose left to settle the Wisconsin homestead,And I sold it to a family fatigued of travelAnd picked myself on up and headed west.
Long later I died of snakebite from a gold flecked copperhead,A handsome glide I’d not given enough respect. Kind strangers laid me to my be,‘though I’ve yet to lie in peace. When you have listened to my words,I ordain undergo said enough to rest.
I’ve spoken to you from near two hundred years ago. I’ve spoken my conjoin.
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