[OH-FOOTSTEPS] Fw: Know your ohio -- Tid Bits -- Part 105

[Maggie Stewart]

----- Original Message ----- 
From: Darlene & Kathi kelley 
To: archives at columbus.rr.com 
Sent: Wednesday, March 12, 2008 4:42 PM



Contributed for use in
USGenWeb Archives
by Darlene E. Kelley
donkeyskid at webtv.net
March 12, 2008

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Historical Collections of Ohio
And Then They Went West
Know Your Ohio
Tid Bits -- Part 105
A Salute to Pioneer Mothers
>From " A Souvenir " 1896

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                A Salute to You 
                 Pioneer Mother  


Here's to the grand old mothers, ours,
Who in the days of yore,
Presided over the cabin homes
On Erie's southern shore;
Who left New England's Pilgram shrines
For Western glade and glen,
As consorts on the wild frontier
Of stern and rugged men.

'Twas theirs to cross the storm tossed lake
In crafts of the rudest kind;
Over forests or on the beach
In strange wehicles wind
For days and weeks, until at last,
Wearied in limb and soul,
With none to kindly welcome them,
They'd reached their long sought goal.

Beneath the forest arching boughs
Began their earnest work,
And be it to their credit said
They ne'er did duty shirk
They learned the hang of trammel pole
To swing the crane as well;
The richness of their ember cakes
No modern tongue can tell.

They learned to make the deerskin bed;
When feathers later came,
Then picking geese, heads stocking bound,
Became exciting game;
With care they mopped the puncheon floor; 
Nor carpet ever laid,
And yet no brighter homes than theirs
Has carpet ever made.

Their babes were rocked in sap troughs rude,
For want of better thing;
And with right tuneful lullaby's 
They made their cabins ring.
Most joyfully they hailed the day
Of cradles made from board,
And with them a tiny rattlebox
Of acorns in a gourd..

They often changed the garments old,
Their fathers erst had borne,
And these in tasty Sunday suits
Were by the children worn.
They knew how sulphur to apply,
To ply the fine tooth comb,
Expelling emigrants that sought
Their children's heads to roam.

When night adown her curtain let,
They set piled brush aflame,
And then thrust in the sickle keen,
When golden harvest came,
They raked the hay in winrows long,
And loafed it quit so neat;
Each woman was to husband then
" An out of doors helpmeet."

They pulled the flax in autumn time,
In winter carded tow,
And in the sugar making spring 
Spead wax upon the snow.
>From forest, following tinkling bell,
The herds they gathered home;
And when were cut the bee trees down,
Made wax of honeycomb.

They, women of expedient,
Burned cobs to soda make;
Corn grated in its season, too,
For juicy Johnnycake;
To venison did woodchuck convert
When came the preacher 'round;
And gave him nicest spice-wood tea,
And toast when bread was found.

They leached their ashes in a gum,
Made soft soap that excelled; 
With which from out their wardrobes slim,
They well all dirt expelled;
When " butchering " came in early fall,
They deftly tried the fat,
And corner for the cobbler fixed
Where he might " whip thhe cat." 

His cowhide shoes were highly prized,
They wedding shoes became
For many a daughter in these homes,
Ere she became a dame ;
Oft they to church barefoot went,
Those dainty soles to save;
For know you well, each mother then
To fashion was no slave.

They little had to fashion feed;
'Twas always " cut and carve "
To cover back and stomach fill --
'Twas hustle 'round or starve.
And yet, some way, they made ends meet,
As ran the years along;
And never women more deserved
To be embalmed in song.

They claimed as neighbors, even those
Whose miles away might live,
And borrowed of them flour and fire,
Molasses, sugar, salt, and sieve;
Whenever visitors there then came,
In eve or afternoons
Forth sent they children borrowing
Knives, tablecloths and spoons.

Now smile we, at the idea,
With abundance e'er at hand,
But behold 'mid scenes soul-trying
Mothers fit for any land;
The blood and nerve they left us,
Let us worthily inherit,
That they through generations, may
Run blood and nerve of merit.

It was blood that prompted action.
It was nerve that guided stroke
'Til early haunts of savage
To a higher life awake;
'Til farm house, school and church spire,
And many a town, I ween,
Took the place of primal forest
And its vested garb of green.

They watched beside the palid form.
They soothed the fevered brain;
'Thro " fever 'n' ager" wasted oft.
Theirs seldom to complain;
They closed the eyes of old and young
With an angelic care;
And oft the funeral service marked
Some mother's earnest prayer.

Their deeds of charity would fill
Full many a printed page,
And yet no herald set them forth
As in this newsy age;
But in that court where justice reigns.
Them credit will be given
And certain theirs a rich reward
Well merited, in Heaven.

Thei weakness were truly few,
And very far between; 
The gravest, their grandaughters say.
Was in the snuffbox seen,
Or in the corncob pipe, perchance,
Which soothed their weary powers;
Would these could say this many a year.
That " Faults as few as ours;"

For whilst these fume, fret, and stew,
And grace themselves with airs,
Those bore in patience heaviest cross,
And history declares
That tho' there were some family jars,
They took them as of course,
Ne'er getting up in "tantrums" wild,
Or suing for divorce.

Without great school advantages,
They trained a race of men
Whose thoughts have thrilled a nation round,
>From platform, through the pen;
Who in life's rugged battlfield,
Their marks right well won't fade,
As Tod, a Perkins, a Bown, too,
A Kelly, a Latham, descent from Mayflower made.

They reared a race of daughters fair,
Who their mother' places fill,
With a vim, determination,
That what they will, they will;
They are moving on the fountains
Begirt with shame and sin,
With the ever ringing life-cry
" We know no word but win."

Then here's to our grand old mothers,
Worthy wives of Pioneers,
Whose deeds shall grace the annals
Of our first of many years;
Tho' fames bright page ne'er marks them
As subjects of reknown,
We know that in a higher sphere,
Theirs will be a radient crown.

We will cherish well their memories
In cheery lake shore homes;
They shall be unto our children,
Ever bright and fairy tomes;
Inspirations to high motives,
Through all the coming years;--
Such shall be the living spirit
Of our Mother Pioneers.

And we, their sons and daughters
And grandchildren of all the year
Will inscribe upon their brains banners,
" All honor ", bright and clear;
Yes all honor to our mothers,
Who 'mid cares and toils untold,
Bequeathes us an inheritance  
Richer far than hoarded gold.

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Tid Bits continued in part 106

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