History of Fort Amanda (and Lathrop Family)

Date: [unknown] [unknown]
Location: Fort Amanda, Logan Township, Auglaize, Ohio, United States
Surname/tag: Lathrop

Fort Amanda, Ohio, was a major supply depot for the American army during the War of 1812. This page contains a history of the Fort, written in 1919 by Charles Sumner Lathrop (1858-1955), with an introduction by his nephew, Dr. Clarence Adoniram Lathrop. It also details life in the area during the years that his family farmed and lived on the Fort land. This transcription is from a scanned copy in the collection of Barbara (Utterback) and Bill Harman.

Charles' younger brothers, William Ulysses Lathrop (1865-1942), and Clarence Lewellyn Lathrop (1872-1954) (nicknamed "Duke"), were born at Fort Amanda. Clarence sold part of his land on the Fort Amanda, Ohio site for the monument to be built.

See also:

• Fort Amanda, Ohio Historical Marker. (Markers can also be seen here.)
• Fort Amanda Memorial Park
• Fort Amanda, Touring Ohio
• Fort Amanda Park
• Fort Amanda Monument
• Ft. Amanda Memorial Association

Introduction

This history of Fort Amanda, written by my uncle, Charles Lathrop, was sent to me many years ago by his daughter Polly (Mrs. William Klippert), of Lima, Ohio. It apparently lay dormant until recently when I uncovered it. This is real history of the not too distant past, and should be preserved.

For those of you who never had the privilege of visiting the old 'Lathrop Home', it was located about ten miles west of Lima, Ohio, and as noted in the history only about 1/4 mile south of the 'Fort'.

I spent two months in the summer of 1928 with uncles Duke and Charlie and became quite familiar with the terrain of 'Old Fort Amanda' and remember it well. The Fort buildings were gone but remnants of the logs remained, and I took a piece of notched corner log home to New Mexico. This is a wonderful story, not only of Fort Amanda, but of Uncle Charlie. Read and enjoy!

Signed: Clarence A. Lathrop, M.D.

History of Fort Amanda

By Charles Sumner Lathrop

A careful review of the early history of Ohio reveals very interesting facts: First, this section was traversed by white men as early as 1680, yet no actual attempt was made to settle it for more than a hundred years. Actual developments have only been pursuant about an equal period. For the first hundred years the title was divided among French, English and Indians, but the last by Americans only. Of the Indians we know but little; of the French and English that they operated from selfish motives only; but the Americans for freedom and prosperity.

It has been said of the north-west that climatic influences had much to do with the development of our prosperity, but the Indians had the same influence from time immemorial, so had the English and French. So it must have been the motive they had after the freedom of the colonies that many of the New Englanders turned their faces westward to develop the then little known regions of what we now term the Middle States, and which has resulted in forming the axis around which the greatest nation the world has ever known now revolves.

The traveling of great distances in those days was the greatest problem. So we find that they reached here largely by two main channels; namely, by the lake route and the Ohio river. Thus were the settlements began in the south and north parts of the state, we being about midway and bordering on the great north-west were the last to be freed from the dangers of the Indians and the schemes of the selfish trader.

Thus we find that as early as 1800 there was an expedition formed for the relief of those conditions: probably the first was formed at Marietta and penetrated to this part of the country about as far as the Indiana line; a little north of here where they met with serious defeat. Most of those who surrendered scattered or drifted back singly and in pairs; among them were two inseparable friends who found their way across country and were, no doubt, the first white men to view the site of the soon to be Fort, now known as Fort Amanda. These friends also camped at or near the present site of Lima, drifting south-east for many days and finally reached a settlement near Marietta. The knowledge furnished by these adventurers subsequently resulted in the choice of the route from the river to the Great Lakes. But for the influence exerted by the Jesuits and traders, this territory might have been settled without bloodshed. As it was, it was the scene of tragedies and much heroism.

It is greatly to be regretted that the history we are now able to collect, referring to Fort Amanda, is very limited, owing so I have been told, to the loss of all records in the burning (of) some of the Government buildings at Washington in 1814.

When General Harrison was operating south-west of us, and General Wayne north-east and north, General Harrison saw the necessity of forming a line of communication between these points; accordingly, he sent Colonel Thomas Poague about the first of September, 1812, (General Harrison's head-quarters then being at St. Marys) to cut a road to meet the advance from the north which was then at Defiance. Consequently, they started north-east from St. Marys to the point I have before indicated, then followed the west bank of the Auglaize river, until Defiance was reached, a distance of about eighty miles; after accomplishing this feat, he returned that same fall, probably about October first, and by an order issued by General Harrison, erected a fort on the west bank of the Auglaize river near where they had first reached it. This fort he named in honor of his wife, Amanda.

(Editors Note: Apparently, the story that Colonel Thomas Poague build Fort Amanda and named it after his wife is incorrect. It was, instead, Lt. Col. Robert Pogue, who named it after his 12-year-old daughter, Hannah Amanda.)

The Fort was a rectangle, following the bank of the river which there runs north-west. There was a gate in each end of the stockade and this stockade was built of logs about fifteen feet long, set four feet in the ground. There was a block house in each corner, the second story of which protruded over the wall below. It is rather hard from this date to imagine how things were then and just how they managed to do so much and accommodate so many people in so small a place, for we are told that they wintered through the first winter twelve hundred horses. Of the number of men we know little, but there, is evidence of a goodly number. They erected in the enclosure, also a large warehouse to care for supplies; the upper story of which we are told was used for a hospital. The need was evident from the number of mounds that are still in evidence in the old cemetery across the ravine just north of the Fort. About thirty years ago, through the influence and indefatigable efforts of Professor Williamson, late of Wapakoneta, the government furnished markers for these graves.

While the Fort was in course of erection, a captain, Enoch Dawson by name, went back of the Fort on the bend of the river to gather wild grapes. It is said that he climbed up in a walnut tree and tied himself to a limb while he gathered the grapes. A shot was fired from across the river and when his comrades reached him, he was hanging in the tree dead. He was buried on the south bank of the ravine just north of the Fort. Later the National cemetery was established on the north side of the ravine, as I have stated. When I was a boy, I remember hearing an old lady say that when she was there as a girl, this grave was enclosed by a log fence, but that some campers burned it one night. We placed one of the Government Markers there as you may see when you visit the Fort.

The difficulties encountered in transferring supplies to the Maumee valley were so great by the road then opened that they conceived the idea of building flat boats or barges which they called Perogues. The ship yard where these boats were built was some distance up the river and on the other side. The way, down which these boats were slid, is still in evidence, and when I was a boy playing along the river this point was entirely cleared of trees or brush, though it had no connection with any farm field. One of the axes used in the construction of these boats was picked up at this point and is now among the relics of the historical society at Wapakoneta, Ohio. When plowing in the vicinity of the old Fort we plowed up two old hand made axes on one of which still is plainly to be seen the U. S. Government stamp. Some of these boats were used to transfer a body of soldiers, about twelve hundred, to the relief of a besieged command on the Maumee and afterwards to assist Captain Perry's ships over the shallows of Put-In-Bay, at the time of his memorable battle.

It is most likely that General Harrison spent a considerable time at Fort Amanda during the summer of 1813, as many of his orders were issued from this point. The hospital was in charge of Dr. Jacob Lewis, who also had charge of St. Marys and other points, as doctors were scarce and it was necessary to extend his duties to these points. It seems quite likely that a road from the Fort to Wapakoneta was built during the summer of 1813. I remember two trees standing along the road south of the Fort that bore the surveyor's marking "nine miles to Wapak", one was a black hickory and the other a beach. When I was a boy the road to St. Marys from our place ran nearly all the way over the old trace. It was called by old settlers "Wayne's Trace." It still remains a public highway for about three miles out of St. Marys, but modern methods have obliterated many of the things that would have been of great interest in times to come.

The path that led to the little log school house on the hill in the bend of the river a mile or two south of our home at the Fort ran nearly all the way through the woods and along this trail. It crossed the field and down the bank where the Lathrop barn now stands and may be seen at several points there; and on the old Place Farm at one place they made an extensive grade down the side of a bank that must have required no small amount of effort when we consider their means for building roads. It would still be possible to drive down the grade comfortably with a team and wagon. From there they crossed the bottom land and again graded a road on the bluff that has been in use for farm purposes for many years. Those of you who wish to verify this statement can do so at any time, and I should be pleased to be your guide on such an expedition.

In 1814, the war, having ended and the Indians subsided or moved to other grounds, settlers began moving in along these lines of communication. In 1817 Peter Diltz occupied the Fort as a residence, but was soon possessed with the "wanderlust" and moved on to Michigan. In 1821 James Russell entered the tract on which the Fort was built, surveys having been made in the meantime. To the Russels was born the first white child to grace Allen County with her presence. She afterwards became the wife of C. C. Marshall, a long time resident of Delphos. I remember Mr. Marshall very well as, no doubt, many of you do. He said he was at the Fort before any of the buildings were removed and it is to be regretted that he did not record for future generations what he saw and heard of the Fort. I have met several others who had the pleasure of knowing many stories of interest regarding its early history, but I was too busy or indifferent to make any note of them. Indeed, have only now been induced to write this paper that my own family might know something of the old home in which I spent so many happy years of my early life, and not to gratify the curiosity of an indifferent public.

August 22, 1863, my parents and their several children of which I was the third oldest, reached the Boyd home in Shawnee just as the sun was setting, ending a journey of a thousand miles made not by railroad or automobile, but in a covered wagon drawn by two yoke of oxen. This was Saturday, I think, and on Monday morning my father, mother, older brother and I drove over to our then to be home at Fort Amanda. There was no one living in the house at the time; the doors and windows were out and the floor gone. This was the old store house, built inside of the blockade. After looking over the house and noting the repairs necessary to putting it in condition for habitation, we walked back across the field to where the Lathrop home now stands, and while we were there met Mr. Anderson who was to be our nearest neighbor, who had come to a spring for water. Soon after this trip, the work of making a home began. Uncle Charles Hover gave father the lumber that was left of the old P.H.T. cabin which was used to make a partition to divide the cabin into two rooms; one was used for a kitchen and dining room, the other for a living, and sleeping room. The older children were stowed away in the attic. The lumber for the floor was sawed at Tone's mill. Mr. Isaac Clippenger and Mr. Joseph Pierson rendered valuable assistance.

(Editor's Note: Pe-Aitch-Ta "PHT" was the last Shawnee chief of Ohio. He died of illness in 1832, and the Shawnee traveled west that same year. The Hover family moved into the abandoned Shawnee Council House shortly after.)

There was a fire place in the end of the sitting room that used four-foot wood, and father said that it took a cord of wood to keep the family from freezing on the cold New Year, so often referred to by all the old settlers. There was a well near the house, but at the time it was partially caved in. One of my early duties was to keep a supply of water for all purposes, which we carried up the bank from the river. Those of you who have visited the monument in later years can appreciate the effort required for a small lad to supply the household needs in the little matter of water. The following spring this well was restored to use. It was dug by the soldiers and was walled up with boulders gathered from the hills and river. it was about four feet in diameter and sixteen feet deep. About ten years later, I filled this well with stones and logs and up to the time of the building of the monument I knew where it was, and at one time offered the committee to restore it, but before I got there they had disturbed the ground so that I was not able to locate it. If this well could be found (and I believe it could), it would be a most interesting relic and create a greater interest to visitors than the monument itself.

I think there was not more than twenty or thirty acres of cleared land around the Fort when we came there, five or six acres of which were covered with large apple trees said to have been planted or at least raised by Johnny Appleseed. South of the Fort about a mile on the old Berryman Farm was a nursery belonging to a chain, established by Appleseed, through Ohio and Indiana. My mother said that when she was a child she saw Johnny Appleseed when on one of his trips to these nurseries had a leather sack filled with apple seeds carried on the back of an old ox. My mother was then living where the Children's Home now stands, and you can readily imagine Johnny leading his old ox around the curve and up the hill as she saw him. This orchard furnished great quantities of apples and picking apples in the old orchard became one of the unpleasant duties of my after years. There were two early apple trees that were a source of much pleasure as well -- my oldest brother has often said I learned to be a mason spreading apple sauce on my bread, and it wasn't always wheat bread either.

I have made many trips to Tone's Mill with a bag of corn across a horse's back, seated on the sack. I remember one such trip on which I had a deal of trouble: there was a very large mud hole in the road and the horse I rode was an Indian pony that we brought with us from Kansas. She was quite willful and didn't want to get her feet in the mud, so in spite of all my protests, crowded so close to the fence that I and the bag were pulled off on the ground. I was so small that I could not put the bag on the horse again so I waited for someone to come along to help me out of my trouble -- I had more patience then than I have now. Indeed, I think most people had, when I think they patiently plodded their weary way, finally accomplishing ends that must be reached in a few minutes now, to satisfy the younger generation. My patience was finally rewarded when a young man came along and put things to rights again and I went on my way, arriving home only a few hours late. This caused no disturbance. It was a common saying that night would bring the missing home, but I can remember many times when it was well along in the night before I could complete my errands. Many times in passing the old cemetery I would ride the old pony as fast as I could go, singing some old song to keep up my courage, often casting an eye over my shoulder to see if I was being pursued by phantoms or ghosts. This incident occurred on a part of the old Defiance road, at that time the most traveled road in that part of the country. I have seen in one of the recent issues of our local papers that this particular piece of road is to be abandoned as of no use to the public. "Thus the mighty works of man fail and fall scarcely out-living the generation that wrought them."

Two or three years before we moved to the old Fort, the County built a long wooden bridge across the river. It was, I think, the first bridge built across the Auglaize river between Wapakoneta and Defiance. It was called the Dug Hill bridge from the fact that there was quite a cut in the bank on the south side of the river. This was, at the time, a very quaint and picturesque spot. There was a fine spring of water on the bank at the south end of the bridge and a small cleared spot at the top of the hill where I have been told a cabin once stood. This made an ideal spot for campers to spend the night; I visited many such outfits wen I was a boy. This bridge was said to have been haunted and a short way up the ravine from the bridge is a springy basin said to have been a famous place for deer to come. There is a story that a man by the name of John Gaskill who lived in the neighborhood that used to come to this deer lick at night to shoot deer. On this particular evening he took his boy with him as he intended to climb up in a beach tree that overlooked the ravine and after reaching this perch in the tree, it was the habit of the boy to hand him his gun, and on this evening he had taken off his shoes and when the boy handed up the gun he hung the shoos on the hammer of the gun. While reaching the gun up, the shoes caught on a twig and caused the gun to go off, killing Mr. Gaskill. And from this incident grew the story of the ghost that was said to cross the bridge at mid-night. I have known men who firmly believe this, and one told me that he had been chased by this spirit. You can readily imagine the feeling of a timid boy who was forced by circumstances to cross this bridge in the small hours of the night. There was also a haunted house in the neighborhood. The tragedy connected with this affair occurred after we were living at the Fort. The principals of this tragedy are all dead so there can be no harm in telling what seems to me now to have been a solution of the matter, and which undoubtedly (was) a murder. The man in the case was like many another, desirous of getting rid of his wife that he might court another. One day he came home from a squirrel hunt and laid his gun on the bed. That evening when he went to hang it up, so he said, it accidently was discharged, killing his wife who was sitting by the fire. Subsequently he got the other woman, but for a long time it was said the woman's spirit hovered about the home at night. The man left that part of the neighborhood long years ago and what became of him, if I ever knew, I am not now able to say.

Wild game was quite plentiful when I was a small boy. There were wild turkeys who nested in the wheat field and had runs across the farm. One day father was cutting wheat and caught some little ones, which he brought home and tried to raise but they all died. I have seen flocks of little ducks on the river and tried to catch them but they were for good at hiding for me. There were also mink and muskrats to be caught but I was never successful at hunting, but loved better to work or play at home than hunt or fish. My older brother used to go out and bring in pretty respectable strings of squirrels, pheasants and rabbits.

There was an old gun in the family at that time that was given to my father in Kansas; it was a long smooth barrel rifle with walnut stock, silver mounted, of old Kentucky type. When my parents went to Kansas in 1856 as free state emigrants they were met someplace, probably in Iowa, by a company of one hundred and fifty young men under the leadership of one Captain Shambry. These young men were scattered through the train at Topeka. That fall occurred the LaCompt raid -- some of the Topeka men went south in the state and did some counter-raiding and they must have sacked some stores for I have heard my mother say that many of the men appeared in red flannel shirts for a time, until the Lieutenant Governor talked of investigation, then they suddenly disappeared. Among other things that were gotten out of the hands of the emigrants was a fine walnut drop leaf table. This table they carried out on the prairie an left and the next spring when my people moved out to claim twelve miles from Topeka, they passed the table. It still stayed there until on a trip to town, mother persuaded the men to bring it home, saying she would take the blame if any questions were asked, This table was probably the first one I ever sat up to. It was a six leg fall leaf and the leaves were of one piece of walnut. On this trip to southern Kansas, or perhaps a later one, some of the young men stopped at a Missourian plantation. I do not know what demonstration they may have made, but there was a shot fired from the house and Captain Shambry fell from his horse killed by a buckshot. When the house was searched this gun was the only one found. What they did to the Missourians I am not now able to say. One of the slaves found on the place said that when he asked his master what he wanted for dinner he replied, "A stewed Yankee." This shows the temper of the times under which I came into the world. The gun was taken to Topeka and given to my father. I remember seeing him shoot prairie chickens off the corn pens at the old Kansas home, and is one of my earliest recollections.

On our way to Ohio in 1863, (this was during the war) while passing through some of the wilder parts of the journey, father lay under the wagon at night with this gun well loaded and his teams tied close to the wagon, to guard them from the depredations of The border ruffians, even at the point of the old Kentucky smooth bore. Years after my older brother let an old hired man we had have this gun. He was a bachelor and lived in Spencerville. When not with us, many years later, when he was too feeble to care for himself, he was cared for at the county home when he died. On leaving Spencerville he gave the gun to a then saloon keeper with whom he was very friendly and this man still has the gun.

The first school I attended after we moved at the old Fort was in a log cabin about a mile south on the road to Wapakoneta, then known as the Richardson school house. The Honorable Ferdinand Layton was the teacher, then a boy about eighteen years old. There were quite a number of the pupils older than he. The bench on which I was required to sit was made by splitting a small tree in halves and fastening the legs on by boring auger holes and putting in pins: the smaller pupils had no desks. I spent the day mostly in contemplation or admiring a little girl who sat opposite. Twice a day we were called to the front and required to repeat our A.B.C's from the master's spelling book; we had no book of our own. This same little girl lives in Lima and is an old grandmother, but still bears some resemblance to the girl of my youthful acquaintance and is still admired for her many good qualities. A year or two later the school district was changed so that we went to what was then, as now, called the Place school house where we continued to attend with but a short term or two (which was at the Zerkel school), until I finished my education. There were so many demands for help in establishing a home on the old farm that it soon became a common thing to keep the older boys home two or three days a week. I do not think my school life would average three days a week, four months a year, until I graduated at the age of fifteen. A few years later when I was able to pay my own way, I went a short time to the Ada Normal. This will give you a fair idea of the school advantages enjoyed by the youths of our neighborhood, (with the exception of the Normal term).

There was no regular church to which we attended for several years. The first service I remember was in the Sunderland school house about a mile and a half east, presided over by a Rev. Mr. Weggley, a United Brethren minister of pleasing address and a real Christian gentleman. Later they began holding meetings at Tone's Mill, I think possibly under a Baptist preacher at first. From this grew the Amanda Baptist Church, built a short way from the mill on the bank of the river. It has since been moved to the Conant road and here I attended the first Sunday school. We had no prepared lessons but used Bibles only. A short time after this church was built, the Methodists who had temporarily worshiped with the Baptists, built a church but a short way south on the Spencerville road. It has been many years since I have been inside either of these churches, but my heart still longs for the days when I sat with my parents and the many good friends now gone to the land beyond. There were two churches, one at Hartford and one about three miles south of the old Fort, that were comparatively old churches when we moved there. But to convey to you some idea of the temper of the times, I will relate an incident that occurred one Sunday morning. You can get the date from the incident. My father had gone up to the corner to see Mr. Anderson and when they were talking by the roadside a man come by on horseback, going to the Hartford church to preach. He stopped to pass the time of day with his neighbors and to discuss the all important issue of the election of Abraham Lincoln. The preacher became very much in earnest and finally raising up in his saddle declared that if they (my father and Mr. Anderson) voted for Abe Lincoln, he would take his rifle and shoot them. But as you know, they both lived, many years after.

My grandfather purchased the Fort farm from Andrew Russell about 184?, from which time it was in the hands of tenants until 1863, when we took possession. I remember a story father used to tell about one of these various tenants. Father was then living where Memorial Hall now stands, and kept a store where the Lima Trust Company Bank now is. One evening there appeared at the door a young man inquiring for the owner of the Fort farm. He stated that he wanted to rent it. Grandfather was present and upon the young man giving his name, advised father to rent it to him, stating that he was well acquainted with the applicant's father. There had been a man by the name of Bowers living on the place the year before and he had stored father's share of the corn in the loft of the cabin in which he lived. Soon after the new tenant moved to the farm he hauled this corn to Spencerville and sold it and the next spring father paid Colonel Bliss five dollars to go down and get him off the place. My father said to grandfather, "What kind of a man was that young man's father. You said you knew him." Grandfather replied with a chuckle that he was the damndest rascal on the Auglaize, but that he thought the young man might be all right. When I knew this same young man years later he had many broad acres and lived in a then very pretentious home. His old father lived to be one hundred and eleven years old and died from injuries received at a log rolling in Paulding County. I was present when he was buried at the old National cemetery.

Soon after grandfather bought the Fort farm, my Uncle Emanuel Hover moved there and lived one summer, but it was so lonesome and so far from his friends that in the fall he moved back to Shawnee. On one of his trips from the Fort he cut a riding whip from a willow tree, standing then near where the monument row is. When he came to the Breece farm he met some of the boys in front of the house and while talking to them one of the boys took his riding whip from him and struck it in the damp springy ground at the road side where it can still be seen. Several years ago it was struck by lightning. and killed, but the stump remains nearly four feet in diameter.

The summer of 1863 was not very seasonable and in August they had a killing frost. I remember when we moved to the Fort the corn along the way was bleached and dry, and as we had to buy everything to live on, that first winter was a pretty hard one. Corn was a dollar a bushel and as we had so recently come from a land of plenty, this seemed very high. Father shelled corn the last winter we were in Kansas and hauled it seventy five miles south to Fort Scott and sold it for fifteen cents a bushel. That first spring at the Fort the season opened pretty early and to save feed, father let the stock -- consisting of two yoke of oxen, a cow, a team of horses, and a couple of ponies -- run out on the commons. The fields that were cultivated were fenced but the rest of the country was public grazing ground. One evening one of the oxen failed to come home. Father went in search of the missing ox and found him against a tree on the bank between the cemetery and the river. Some of the neighbors helped to get the ox down the bank and into the river, then towed him up to the flat above where they rigged a sling, but time proved that his hip was broken and after a deal of trouble and care he finally died. This ox was the leader in the front team and was a fine animal. The wheel oxen were a large quiet pair. The leaders were named Dick and Crump; the wheelers, Brin and Dave, and on our journey from Kansas made about twelve miles a day.

On one of the first warm spring mornings that spring, my older brother and I went prospecting along the run that comes down to the river just south of the monument, there was a nice stream of water running. The road then ran from the bridge direct, passed the Fort and just below where the road crossed the run was a bank three or four feet high on which stood a honey locust tree. The thorns on the tree were six or eight inches long and in passing between the tree and run, I crowded too close to the tree and struck one of the thorns which startled me and caused me to lose my balance and I went over the bank into the run. I lit on my feet about waist deep in the chilly water. I was bare footed but alas, my trousers were soaking wet. I did not mind the wetting so much as the disappointment at the thought of losing the trip we had in mind. It wasn't far to the house, but then if I went home I should have to go to bed while they were drying as I had only one pair, so I took them off and hung them on a willow tree to dry while I pursued my way Indian fashion. I remember seeing a woman go by on a white horse but I was out of sight among the willows. Speaking of being barefooted, reminds me of the old shoemaker that lived about a mile south of our place. He had his shop in a little log cabin and for several years we all went to have our feet measured for a pair of boots that had to last for the whole year. Sometimes the old cobbler was late in getting out the orders and I have often gone barefooted after the snow began to fall in the autumn. The old shoemaker's name was Jacob Brown and I should think that he was well along in the seventies at the time.

Our nearest post office was at Kossuth, to which place it became one of my early duties to go for the mail twice a week on an old Indian pony. I always rode bare—backed; part of the way was through the woods, the road not then being cut out. The post office was kept in the rear of the general store. In fine weather this trip for the mail was only a lark, but I had an older sister that got letters from some soldier boys and it made no difference about the weather, rain or shine, cold or warm, I had to go. It went when it was too cold to ride the pony so walked, or rather ran, most of the way. The trip took most of a winter's afternoon, as it is about five miles from the Fort to Kossuth. These trips lasted until I became too useful as a helper on the farm, then the job fell to the younger boys.