We spent three or four days in Marion and Delaware counties looking for Shropshire sheep but to my disappointment I found none, but I saw one of the finest herds of Red Polls perhaps in Ohio, at least the finest I ever saw. Professor Curtis had passed them on and he knows. They were owned by Mr. Hill of Delaware. (Ed. Note – Prof. Curtis was Iowa’s Secretary of Agriculture, who worked with Daniel to find the finest sheep in the United States and Canada and bring them to Iowa.)

On the way to Mr. Hill’s farm, he showed me farms that had recently changed hands at prices from $30 to $40 (per acre) and I thought the buildings were well nigh worth the money. That section has had its day. They can’t raise grass as forty years ago and now they are moving west. I only wish our Iowa boys could realize the need of caring for our farm and not impoverish them.

Next we found ourselves in Lorraine (sic) adjoining Lake Erie. There we saw the great steel plant that turns out thousands of tons of railroad every year. It would be useless to attempt to describe how those mountains of ore are in a few hours made into railroad rails sixty feet in length and straight as an arrow. For one to see with what ease this transformation takes place is immensely wonderful.

There in Lorraine we saw that which makes one tremble, there we saw men crowding around the office of employment begging for employment, yes begging, and to see them harshly turned away makes me feel that men are justified in stealing. Then again when I saw laborers used in my own school district in Pennsylvania as they were I shall ever despise their millions when gotten by oppression of labor. (Ed. Note – Daniel was referring to the railroad employment office and the way railroad laborers were treated in the mid to late 1800s.)

Next: Pennsylvania and environs at the turn of the century.

No, I mean an honest-to-goodness, pass it around the coffee clatch letter from home? I’m ashamed to admit it’s been years. But a recently discovered letter, mailed in 1889, just might inspire me to write a few of my own. To wit…

My g-g-grandfather Uncle Dan Leonard, wrote an eight page letter to his aunt in 1889. Eight pages! To an aunt! That letter turned up in his brother’s Bible, so we know it was passed around the family long after it was sent. His brother Isaac saw fit to immortalize it in a book he knew would be kept. Perhaps best of all, it was mailed from Leonard, Iowa, a post office named for Uncle Dan and housed in a neighbor’s home just two miles to the south.

The salutation reads simply, “Dear Aunt.” Uncle Dan had three aunts, but the presumption is that he was writing to his Aunt Luzanna, who stayed in Pennsylvania with her aging mother when most of the family moved west to Ohio. He regrets that enough time has passed that it’s unlikely his aunt will ever get to visit him in his new Iowa home. So he sent pictures and rather verbose description of the property. (The pictures, apparently, have been misplaced.)

None of that would have been particularly remarkable, if not for the fact that the house he described in 1889 is still standing and occupied 120 years later. Uncle Dan commissioned a painting of the place ten years after he sent the letter. Side-by-side comparisons show how little it has actually changed.

As an extra-special treat to my family, Uncle Dan described the HUGE stone slab at the base of the front porch.

“If you look closely, you will see Mrs. Dan Leonard standing on a rock (sitting to the front and right of it in the painting) 9 inches thick, 8′ long and about 4′ wide, the largest stone in South Western Iowa and on said rock is inscribed as follows: Daniel and Jane Leonard 1856 (the year Dan and Jane settled in that very spot).”

That rock appears to be granite, and it’s still in place. It’s been a source of great curiosity in my family. My parents and I often wondered if there might be a time capsule of some sort underneath. We’ve offered, more than once, to pay the current owner for the stone and whatever may lie underneath, but to date, no deal. Below is a little closer look.

The letter goes on to describe a picture of the original log cabin that “was the finest residence for twelve years on a stretch of land 16 miles long and eight miles wide.” That picture was also a commissioned painting, drawn from the pioneer couple’s own memories.

This post is getting a tad long, so I’ll save more on that painting for next week. That, and Uncle Dan’s description of the poor souls passing along the trail in front of his house, dragging their meager possessions back from failed settlement attempts to the south and west in Kansas.

Your assignment, between now and next week… Go write a letter!

But that’s what happened. Who knew?

To the best of our knowledge, that’s Isaac Leonard… the very man I was trying to locate… over there on the left! (Go ahead. Mouse-over the picture to see larger versions of the front and back.) But there’s more! Pictures of long-lost Joseph Leonard, who married an Indian maiden and dropped out of white society… his brother William… and the two-story Leonard log cabin where they all grew up!

All of these photos will appear here in the coming days/weeks, but I’ve got to tell you where and how these photos were found!

Our newest cousin was taking care of a relative’s affairs after a death in the family. As part of those duties, he was cleaning out a shed in the back yard of a south Florida home. In the shed, he found a cabinet and in that cabinet were two boxes. In the boxes… dozens of photos and some old letters! I don’t know about you, but this is my genealogical fantasy!

He knows exactly who owned the photos and how they were most likely handed down through the generations. Hint: They are descendants of the only Edmund Leonard on the books, thus no confusion about the sixteen gazillion Williams, Isaacs, and Lots. And best of all, most of the photographs are labeled. My ancestors should’ve been so considerate.

Now. Consider this. Those photos and letters have survived, some of them for a century-and-a-half, despite a few decades’ exposure to south Florida humidity, rodents, bugs, and last but not least… hurricanes. Shouldn’t we all be digging around in sheds and basements and attics… before it’s too late?

Just a thought. Who knew?!

Cheers!
Rick