More of Hattie Daugherty Place's writings - 1949

Hattie Daugherty Place
This is good stuff. I'm feeling more and more like I have some understanding of the life of the homesteaders in SD. Now we'll continue with Hattie's writings. This portion is titled "Big Snows.
"1896 was the winter known as 'The Deep Snow.' In our locality snow was five feet deep on the level My most thrilling experience was on January 12, 1988, when what is known as 'The Great Blizzard' swept over our country. I was in my school room. All the pupils were there and at 9:30 A.M. the first blast struck the house. The air shown so heavy through the windows and the crackling noise of the building made me think the building was on fire. By going to the door, we soon discovered the storm. Snow was coming in such cutting force that one could not hold his eyes open unless shielded. It continued snowing and blowing all day and through the night. We remained in the schoolhouse and were comfortable and warm at all times. Not knowing how long we might be stranded, we decided to get a supply of coal. The two largest pupils, Fred Daugherty and John Bradey, and I carried coal from the coal house, which was near the west end of the schoolhouse, in pails and sacks and piled it in a corner of the school room. Later we had most of it to carry back to the coal house. As soon as the storm ceased, Mrs. Bradey, our nearest neighbor, sent her son over with a big pail of food and a pot of steaming coffee. Truly a welcome visitor, as most of the pupils had eaten all their lunch at noon. It was after this storm that I received the best compliment in my whole life. I asked one of my patrons if they were greatly worried about their girl, who was in the school that day. He replied, 'No, for I knew you had sense enough to keep them at the schoolhouse.'
In the fall of 1884 there was a little Indian scare in the community. A neighbor living west of us had been to Miller shopping. While there, an Indian was seen in the distance, galloping his horse as though in haste. No one knowing his errand, the observers immediately began to conjecture and concluded he must be carrying a message for war. The excited neighbor hurried home and, Paul Revere- like, began to alarm the settlers. He came to our house and urged father to get the neighbors to bring their firearms, ammunition, and families, and assemble at some one house for better protection. I recall my father's reply: 'I don't think the Indians are going to antagonize our Uncle Sam, so we will stay at home and welcome them if they come.' We went to bed as usual, slept undisturbed, with no bad dreams of scalping Indians. We heard later that a few seelers did congregate at a home, waitng all night long, but no Indians showed up.'
This is the end of Hattie's sotry to the Pioneer Daughters of the Wessington Women's Study Club. You can follow her story written to her granddaughter of her life, in Prairie Roots Newsletter. Let me know if you'd like a copy. I began her story in March and will continue it in June.