48-63rd
Place, Long Beach, Calif.
May
8,1942
Dear Pioneers:
Mrs. Emma Endsley writes me
that the good people of Bull City (now Alton, Kansas) are erecting a monument to
the memory of General and Mrs. Hiram C. Bull on the exact spot where once stood
his log store. I think this is a wonderful and generous act but cannot help
wondering why this token of love wasn’t thought of long ago, so that the people
he loved and was kind to and who loved him could have had a part in it.
Yes I well remember that
dry-goods and grocery store, especially its varied smells (dried buffalo meat,
etc.). It was my first memory of Bull City. When our little family arrived in
Bull City in the spring of 1871 we drew up before this building the only one in
the “city”. Also it was the place where my little brother Steve and I bought
those gorgeous large red sticks of candy, the joy of our childish hearts!
Nowadays we would call it a
“department store”. One incident I remember well. My blessed mother and I went
there quite early one morning we found Mrs. Bull sitting on a cracker box which
had been turned over to be used as a chair. She was in a real spasm of
laughter. Some of the pioneers will remember that she was short and plump, and
when she laughed, she would shake allover and the tears would roll down her
cheeks. That was the case on this occasion. It took her some time to compose
herself enough to share the joke with us. This is what she told us.
First, however, I must give
you a word picture of the store or you will miss the point of the joke. It was
a lone, low building made of logs, one laid on top of the other, the cracks
between being filled with chunks of wood plastered over with mud. It had two
rooms, one for their living quarters, the other for this general store, the only
one for many miles around. There were two doors, the south one in the
residence, the north, the store entrance. As one walked in, the “post office”
was on the right. This consisted of a dry-goods box with pigeon holes for the
mail.
On the left were shelves
with all kinds of dry goods, such as men’s overalls (the women were not wearing
them then), shirts, red bandana handkerchiefs, pins, needles and thread. Coarse
linen thread was put in skeins about six or seven inches long, not rolled wooden
spools as we buy it now. Everything was placed very neatly on the shelves,
including the tobacco in the northeast corner. At that time there wasn’t even a
counter.
Now for the story Mrs. Bull
told us: Earlier that same morning (really before daylight) a hunter came
pounding on the store door. The General called out, asking what was wanted.
The man called back that he
needed some ammunition, as he was on the trail of a large herd of buffalo, and
he also wanted some chewing tobacco. No one smoked when out hunting, partly for
fear the animals would scent the smoke and become wary, and partly to avoid
prairie fires which were most disastrous.
The General crawled out of
bed hurriedly, but not in a very good humor as it was cold and he had to hunt
for his glasses so he could find the matches to light the coal oil lamp. (There
was no electricity nor gas in those days.) The glasses couldn’t be found so he
tried desperately to fill the order without them.
Trying to get into his
trousers he got tangled up in his suspenders, fell over a box and upset a pail
of drinking water which had been brought a long distance from the creek the
evening before, drenching him thoroughly Everything being in order on the
shelves, he shiveringly decided that glasses didn’t matter anyway; he could put
his hands right on the articles wanted.
He finally opened the store
door· and the hunter came in to give his order more in detai1. Now the
General’s troubles began. He searched for the tobacco but found, instead, some
dry sticks, the carcass of a prairie dog, some buffalo chips not too dry, dried
apples, potatoes, beans, skeins of thread, and several of those lovely red
cotton handkerchiefs. In general the store shelves were turned upside down; not
a thing being in its accustomed place. With the help of the customer, however,
the General finally filled his order and the hunter went on his way.
It was poor Mrs. Bull who
had to pay the consequences. The language of our gentlemanly General would
hardly look nice in print. Finally he said very emphatically: “Sarah, you’d
better look after your store shelves a little better.”
Mother and I appeared soon
after this happening but by that time Mrs. Bull had discovered the reason: a
trade rat had been visiting the store during the previous night! No doubt most
of the pioneers will remember how thoroughly these “trade” or “carrier” rats
transacted business. And Mrs. Bull was some time recovering from her amusement,
both at the happening itself and at the very humble and abject apology the
General had made to her.
I wish I might be with the
Pioneers on this happy occasion, and could participate. I remember with
interest and affection the few of my friends who are left.
Very Sincerely,
Nettie Korb
Bryson
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