There is much information on the World Wide Web regarding my ancestor, William Bean. His is a fascinating story of pioneering strength. He was the husband of Lydia Russell; I mentioned her in my blog, Native American Heritage. You can read of her capture by the Cherokee and her freedom by Nanyehi (Cherokee: “One who goes about”), known in English as Nancy Ward. It is rumored that Lydia’s nephew, Lewis (Louis) Russell, son of George, married (or had relations with) a Cherokee, which produced descendants. But I digress…
William was born on 09 Dec 1721 in St. Stephens Parish, Northumberland, Virginia, and was baptized there.
He married Lydia Russell in 1744. Before leaving Virginia, William was a captain in the Virginia Militia and a Revolutionary War Veteran. Before settling in Tennessee, he settled in Pittsylvania (Danville) County, Virginia.
They were the first “white” settlers in Tennessee. Some say the first “European-American settlers.” William was of Scottish descent, and Lydia was of English descent.
William was a longhunter. He was also friends with fellow longhunter Daniel Boone.
Daniel Boone
Longhunter with dead deer
Daniel Boone Longhunter with a dead deer
Longhunters were explorers and hunters in the 1760s who went on expeditions for about six months into the wilderness of the American frontier. As was William Bean and his friend, Daniel Boone. They may have met by being agents for Richard Henderson, a land speculator who later played an essential role in the early settlement of Tennessee.
1769, Bean moved his family (5 to 8 children) from Virginia to Tennessee. There, they cleared land and built a cabin close to the junction of Boone’s Creek (just above the mouth of the creek) and the Watauga River, near what is today Johnson City, Tennessee. Bean camped here with Boone and was familiar with the country. He liked the secluded part of the land where he built his cabin. It was hidden from the river by high rock formations and thick overgrowth. The creek provided plenty of water from the springs. The cabin was concealed from Indians who might pass by on the river, and the mouth of the creek was marked by a large waterfall, which kept boats from entering the creek. The spot around Bean’s cabin became known as the Watauga settlement.
William and Lydia were now the first permanent white settlers in Tennessee. Their son, Russell, was the first white child born in Tennessee. Most of William’s siblings, as did Lydia’s brothers, George and John Russell, joined him. You can read more about this area, the Beans, the Russells, and the settlement at The Overmountain Men by Pat Aldermen.
William is said to have been “a man of parts,” a substantial landowner in Pittsylvania County. Members of the Bean family were prominent in civil and military affairs in the Watauga Valley for many years. The colony was outside of any governmental control, so they founded the Watauga Association. William served in the Revolutionary War from 1776 to 1780 as a Captain in the Watauga Riflemen. At the Battle of Kings Mountain, it is rumored that Captain Bean and his men scattered a band of Tories and hanged nine.
Source: Notable Southern Families, Volume 2
William Bean was one of the first patentees of the land leased from the Indians by Charles Robertson as trustee for the settlers and later secured by treaty. His name is found to the petition for annexation to North Carolina, which is in the archives at Raleigh, and was received by messenger August 22, 1776.
At the end of the Revolutionary War, William Bean was granted 3000 acres of land for his outstanding service. He decided on a piece of land in what is now Grainger County Tennessee.
William Bean was also a businessman; he built Bean Station at a significant crossroads. William built the Bean Tavern, outside of the fort, the largest tavern between Washington D. C. and New Orleans. Travelers coming from all over stopped there on their excursions. It was a bustling crossroads for the surrounding settlements in East Tennessee.
Interesting Note: Abraham Lincoln’s mother was a waitress at the Bean Station Tavern. And Davey Crockett traveled there as well.
This is a beautiful video of the history of Bean Station. It is only 7:49 minutes long but packed with information! I highly recommend viewing it.
Like Daniel Boone, his old friend and companion, Captain Bean “did not like to be crowded”. He had helped blaze the Boone trail and watched emigrants settle upon the Watauga and Holston until they numbered perhaps a thousand people, then he began to look around for a home with more latitude, and where game was more plentiful. It is a family tradition that he selected the site of Bean station because of the gap in the mountain, and because of the sulphur springs, and salt licks, which latter attracted deer and other game.
Captain Bean erected Bean Station about the year 1778. Since he had grandchildren at this date, he could no longer be considered a young man, but as this is the year of his activities against the Tories it will be seen that he was still very active in frontier military affairs. The fort is said to have been strongly built and well defended, when occasion necessitated, by the few families who settled in its proximity.
The number of years that pioneer families lived in fear and suffered the atrocities from the Indians is shown by the massacre of Jane Bean, a daughter of Captain William Bean, twenty-one years after the family had moved to Bean Station.
Jane Bean had gone to a nearby spring for the purpose of doing a washing when Indians hidden in a cedar thicket jumped out, killed and scalped her. The grave may yet be seen in the rear of a barn near the public road, and is marked with a rough stone bearing the inscription, “Jane Bean, Nov. 12, 1799,” now on the place of Mr. Ethelbert Williams, once part of the estate of the Cobbs at Tate.
The only remaining daughter of Captain Bean of whom we have record is Sarah, who became the wife of John Bowen, brother of the brave Lieutenant Reece Bowen, whose death is so graphically described by Mr. Draper in “Kings Mountain and It’s Heroes”.
There are many interesting traditions extant in this branch of the family of the early days at Bean Station.
The story goes that “on the day preceding the marriage of Sarah Bean, when all plans had been made for the celebration, John Bowen was called away to assist in quelling an Indian uprising, and the wedding had to be postponed”. Two weeks later, however, the wedding took place and after the culmination of the ceremony the groom took his bride to his cabin five miles distant from the station.
The honeymoon was spent in continuous trepidation and fear of the Indians, who at this particular time either through real or imaginary grievances against encroachments and broken faith of the settlers, were stealing into every settlement, massacring and plundering.
In the early morning Sarah Bowen would take her pail, and while her husband stood guard in the doorway with his gun, hasten to the spring for water.
One night Sarah and John Bowen were awakened by a stealthy and suggestive tapping outside the door. They arose, armed themselves with hatchet and gun and awaited the moment of attack.
Moments and hours passed and nothing more alarming transpired than the same suggestive Tap! Tap! Tap!
With dawn, the mystery of the delayed attack was solved. While dipping candles on the doorstep, Mrs. Bowen had spilled some of the tallow, which had attracted a gander one of several that Mrs. William Bean had brought her daughter the same day that she might collect feathers for a new feather tick!
When Indian danger threatened and Mr. Bowen was off on duty, one of Sarah Bean’s brothers would hasten for her, forcing her to jump astride the horse behind him, a feat shocking to the modesty, but necessary in the emergency, and dash away with her to the protection of the fort.
From David Crockett: The Lion of the West By Michael Wallis
One of Crockett’s good friends was old Major Russell’s son, George, the namesake of his uncle Captain George Russell, who followed his brother-in-law, William Bean, to Tennessee in 1770 and was promptly killed by Indians while on a hunting trip near his home at German Creek.
Lydia (Ancestor #: A132561), William (Ancestor #: A008045), and Bean Station are listed in the DAR Genealogical Research Database.
William died four months after he made his will on 06 Jan 1782.
His descendants are many and all over the country. Descendants lived in Tennessee, Virginia, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missouri, Iowa, Louisiana, and elsewhere.
As always, please do let me know if you see any discrepancies or errors. Thanks for reading!
I participate in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.
William Henry Logan (1826-1899): A Pioneer’s Roots & Resilience
Every branch on the family tree begins with someone who carved out a life on raw land, who planted roots where none existed. For us, one of those roots is William Henry Logan — the man who helped turn northern Wisconsin’s wilderness into something his children and grandchildren could call home.
Early Life, Marriage, and Moving North
William Henry was born on August 30, 1826, in Portland, New York. His heart must have longed for places newer than the old roads, because some years after marrying Margaret J. Hyland (September 9, 1849), he and Margaret left New York behind and headed into Wisconsin’s frontier.
By the early 1850s, they were in Sauk County. And then in 1872, William filed a homestead in Dallas Township, Barron County — 160 acres waiting for someone to clear, build, and farm. That someone was him.
Raising a Big Family & Facing Hardship
William and Margaret had nine children: Clamania, Elizabeth (Libbie), William A., Lillie, Lydia A., Margaret L., Lemuel H., Mary L., and Ethel M. They worked hard, taught where they could, and built a life from logs and soil. Libbie, William, and Lillie all became teachers.
But it wasn’t always sunny. Tragedy struck with typhoid fever: Libbie, then Mrs. Logan, and others in the family fell ill. The emotional and physical toll was immense — yet despite all, they held together. Father continued working, mother mended spirits, and children stepped in.
The Homestead Becomes Home
William’s life at Barron County was more than just survival. He was active in Sunday schools, religious work, distributing tracts, believing children deserved knowledge and faith even in remote places.
They built a log house first, then improved, cleared land, planted Balm of Gilead (those trees by the path) as symbols of hope and permanence. Their ranch/farm/dairy homestead rose slowly, amid trees, snow, seasons, and community.
Final Years & Lasting Legacy
William Henry died March 19, 1899, on that homestead in Dallas Township, Barron County. Margaret lived on until April 24, 1919. Their children scattered, married, taught, and carried forward both tragedy and triumph.
Jessie Burrall (a grandchild or great-grandchild) brought especially bright light to the family: teacher, leader, organizer, building large Sunday School classes, doing religious education work, bringing that same commitment to community that William Henry had planted.
What William Henry’s Story Teaches Us
True pioneer spirit isn’t just in the big moves; it’s in staying when things are hard, seeing beauty in trees, and building a home from nothing.
Family isn’t perfect — sickness, loss, doubt all show up; what counts is showing up for each other anyway.
What we leave isn’t always material. It’s stories, values, seeds (literal and metaphorical), faith, and education. Those Balm of Gileads? They’re still budding.
Want to go further? I can help you map out where the old homestead is today, maybe pull up old photos or land records so you can see what William Henry saw. These stories might be decades old, but they still have roots in us.
* Balm of Gilead *
Written as it was written in the Rice Lake Chronotype newspaper, issues Nov. 16, 23rd, 30th, and Dec. 7, 1932.
Written by Mrs. Mattie Nicklow of Dallas, Wisconsin. “A Story of the Pioneer Days of Barron County”
"About 60 years ago there resided on a farm within the present city limits of Janesville a family consisting of the parents, Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Logan (Margaret Jackson Hyland) and seven children: Libbie 19, William 17, Lilly 14, Lydia 12, Margaret 8, Mary 4 and Ethel 2. An older sister, Clamanie had prior to this married S.A. Stowe of Neenah, and a brother, Lemuel H. preceeded all in death.
Mr. Logan in purchasing this farm had fully intended to till the soil and make the place a permanent home. An anticipation which no doubt would have matured had it not been for two facts: (1.) the growing activities of the world renowned Knapp Stout & Co. in northern Wisconsin, (2) the adaptability of several members of this family to become woof for the great shuttles of enterprise which this lumbering company had set in motion.
In 1871 Mr. Logan a finished woodworker and wagon maker obtained a position with Knapp-Stout at Menomonie, committing the care of the farm to the son Willie and Mrs. Logan. Having proved his efficiency he was soon sent by the company to Prairie Farm where in company with Thos. Blyton, A West Dallas pioneer farmer and carpenter, he worked on the first store building in this village, which served as a general supply store for not only Knapp-Stout, but for the country at large.
It may be of additional interest to mention here that George E. Scott, who in 1883 became manager of this store, eight years later purchased the business and erecting a new structure "famed" Prairie Farm nationally as possessing the most beautiful country store in the world.
In the course of events, as Mr. Logan was building away on the store, he noted in the conversation of his fellow laborers, corroboration and augmenting of previous reports he had heard at Reedsburg regarding the possibilities of the dairy industry in Barron county. As a direct result of this propaganda he became more and more convinced that here was his opportunity. Land could be homesteaded, he had three grown children as well as himself who could soon file on a piece of land: teachers would soon be in demand--Willie, Libbie and Lilly were all qualified teachers. Thus he reasoned to himself and little by little his conversion to Barron county was conveyed by letter to his family until finally Mrs. Logan received a definite request asking her to dispose of the farm home at Reedsburg. Also all the equipment except the team, the colts, two cows, a heifer, the wagon, necessary clothing and food for the trip and to carry them through the next winter, with an additional statement the Barron County offered ideal homemaking conditions and he desired them to join him there.
Letters continued to arrive, one finally stating. Mr. Logan had actually filed on a claim. Mr. Stowe, the son-in-law, was asked to aid Willie in preparations for the trip and to also accompany them to Prairie Farm. By midsummer all was in readiness with everyone gay and light hearted except mother. Thoughtfully she closed the old home door and with a face set toward duty and heart turning back to the closed door she seated herself beside the driver.
Early morning revealed a white covered wagon with a team of horses, colts, cows and heifer slowly moving north from Reedsburg. Due to the cattle's slow travel several nights were spent in camp, but Mrs. Logan and the two small children were fortunate in getting a room in a hotel or farmhouse each night. While the men and three older girls were truly enjoying their camp-outs until after passing into the heavily-wooded section surrounding Black River Falls. Here they were frightened by the appearance of a number of tough looking men and abandoned plans for the night camp, driving on until the animals were exhausted.
Among the major adventures of the trip was the fording of the Red Cedar River. The water was running high and the wagon box was soon floating along with ropes serving as guys, to regulate its path to that of the running gear. When they were safely on the opposite shore the children looked back to see their precious colts following up the riverbank they had just left. The silly things did not spy their mothers until they reached a point directly across the stream but some rods up from where the ford started. In they jumped, and out of sight! But the screams of Ethel and Mary soon turned to shouts of encouragement as they spied the dark specks--noses, ears, and their heads- swimming. Then with a lunge they came up the bank beside the children, making a never-to-be-forgotten picture for the more sophisticated members of the family.
During the time of preparation for the trip Mr. Logan had been busy putting up a house on his homestead. Logs were cut and hauled to the little clearing. A road was cut through the woods west to the tote road at the Sam Tucker place, so lumber could be hauled from the Knapp-Stout mill at Prairie Farm for the floor and doors of the rude structure. Jos. Richards, whose homestead was 3 miles away, gave valued help in putting up the building. Three other homesteaders (all bachelors) were for some reason deeply interested in the early completion of the house and the coming of the Logan family into their midst. These men were John Knight, Lem Sharp and John McMullen. Their claims partially joined that of Mr. Logan's on the north and west. Their assistance was most welcome and many an evening they spent that winter "getting acquainted with their new neighbors."
On Aug. 28, 1872, the wagon, which for a few days had been the only home of the family of nine, drove up at the door of Knapp Stout & Co.'s boarding house in Prairie Farm. Here comfort and plenty reigned; this added to the reunion of the family. A night's rest and morning found them all clamoring up behind the team into the wagon for the last 6 miles of their trip.
Before leaving, Mr. Logan borrowed from his employers, Knapp Stout & Co., ox teams to furnish extra power if necessary when they reached the 2 miles of road he had earlier in the summer cut through the heavy timber to his homestead. This proved a wise precaution for after leaving the tote road from Prairie Farm to Rice Lake they were in a wilderness supreme. A cyclone a short time before had nearly obliterated Mr. Logan's by-road and uprooted trees, stumps and fallen timber required much chopping and detouring for the loaded wagon. After a long day the wearied travelers came to a small opening in the timber. Here was home! True, a "log house," but that was to be only temporary, a stopping place by the way that was leading to a fine set of buildings on a Barron county dairy farm "some day".
Mother's vision was a bit cloudy that evening, but she tried to see the brilliantly pictured future as she quietly passed through the opened door and thereby took possession of the woodland cottage. Hope ran high as things were placed here and there, and sleeping arrangements were being made. Supper over the quiet hour came. It was different though--such a quiet they had never known! Out of touch of all humanity! Trees, trees--the pines' low crooning, and far away the "who-who" of a lone owl, as if questioning the right of the new intruders.
Overpowering fatigue had forced a similar quiet upon the household when the plaintive little sobs of Baby Ethel were heard from an adjoining room and in a burst of self-defense she declared: "I isn't going to sleep in this colties' house--I's going to Papa's house." Log walls to her were associated with stock and barns and the only house she had seen in Barron county was the company's boarding house, where she had met her father the evening before.
Came morning, then another and another followed evening. The house had been turned unconsciously into a home. The clearing which at their arrival was slightly larger than the house, was day by day creeping into the forest growth. There would be some acreage for garden in the spring.
Fall was here and Willie had been hired to teach in the Kellog district near Prairie Farm, boarding at the Roseman Kellog home. Libbie taught the Pelton school, boarded at Hiram Pelton's, and Lilly did not teach until spring of the following year (1873) when she secured a school 5 miles north of Rice Lake, known as the Beaton or Demars school. The three took teachers' examinations at Dallas and when William returned home he told how Chas. Finley was caught in the act of helping a would-be teacher with an arithmetic problem and when taken to task by the superintendent, A. B. Finley, how he straightened up to full stature law and said: "Well, Brother A. B., I've given you a little similar assistance -in the past. I guess this will pass."
Summer brought the teachers all back to the thatched roof which now indeed was like home to them. The little farm was growing in size. Somehow the timber that had such lonesomeness about it when they first came there was growing more friendly too. The purplish border of tress was fast changing as bud and leaf told of summer's coming. Even the two "Balm of Gilead" beside the path (only switches in size) had great bulgy spots up and down their stalks. They were alive! Though shrubbery abounded, only these two have to do with our story.
Among the pleasures in Willie's days at the new farm were his horseback rides to Prairie Farm. Often he made these trips, but the one described here is different in that the Balm of Gileads are today bursting into bud and leaf, as living memorials, after 57 years of growth at the Logan home in West Dallas!
The name of the horse Willie rode has been forgotten, but for the story's sake we'll call her "Doll." She was usually well behaved and even that day conducted herself with real dignity until nearing home, some 3 miles away, she began to put on airs. She became too proud to trot and soon cashed off with a mild run, then suddenly stopped with a force that nearly set her rider on the ground in front of her. So reining her up to the Balm of Gileads at the Sam Tucker place, which he happened to be passing, he took a couple of twigs in his hand. Nothing more was necessary! Horse and rider were home in a few moments.
The twigs were dropped as he dismounted. Later his father passing that way noticed the sticks--for nothing more did they look to be, till picking them up he discovered they were more domesticated than the growth about the home, and upon closer scrutiny he found them to be Balm of Gileads. As he stood holding them, thoughts came--not new thoughts, but old ones, of another place. There were Balm of Gileads there, yes, neighbors had them too. They bespeak settlement, culture-I'll set them out by the path to the front door, one on each side . . . . So now, in late spring, they were ready to silver out, and small though they were, Father and Mother loved to watch them grow and oft as they walked by, the sight of sprouting swigs carried their minds to other scenes: pleasant roads, comfortable homes, refining influences; again they'd recall Willie's riding home, happy and gay -- were it not for him they possibly would never have made this venture. He must have a chance! Yes, in a few years he could file on a claim, as Libby had. He was clearing now--fields are growing-soon, the place will be a real farm, a new home. How much Willie is worth to us. Our only son! At these times the "some day" was very near.
The two little twigs by the front door path were as a mental lens which drew unto them the possibilities of the future as a field glass takes the very horizon and drops it at our feet.
Summer of 1873 is waning. The school year is near. Lilly has the Wygant School, Willie the DeMars school, north of Rice Lake, and Libbie a school adjoining that of her brother.
The oldest child at home this fall was Lydia, 14. The three others were Lucinda, Mary and Ethel. Mr. and Mrs. Logan, 'not exactly young, were still in the prime of life, he being 47 and she 43. Both were of a spiritual turn of mind. Mr. Logan made many trips about the country establishing Sunday schools and distributing religious literature. Libbie was planning how she would prepare linen for housekeeping, evenings after school, so when vacation came she could take Mary for company and live on her own claim. How her heart leaped for joy at the thought!
September found the three teachers at their school work. The two north of Rice Lake did not expect to get home before the holidays, but Lilly was boarding at the Sidney Wygant home, only 3 miles away and was home every week end.
All went well until the last Friday in October when, reaching home she found her little sister Lucinda ill. No doctor? Yes, Mr. Logan while working in Prairie Farm had made the acquaintance of a physician, and harnessing up the team he drove after him that evening.
Dr. Buck consented to come and diagnose the case providing Mr. Logan could get him back to the mill in time for work the following morning. Lucinda was found to have typhoid fever and lay for weeks waiting for the fever to take its course.
Mrs. Logan watched over her child and finally saw hope of her recovery, but before her patient was able to be about, she herself was stricken with the same disease. When Lilly came home, the last weekend in November, there were two patients, one recovering and one in the toils of a raging fever.
Lydia was now nearing 15, and with Mr. Logan and the weekend help Lilly could give they managed to take care of mother, and Lucinda, though very weak, did not need so much attention.
Night after night the father drove through the snow filled road to Prairie Farm to get Dr. Buck, then back again with him at an early morning hour. Often Discouraging thoughts came as he made his early morning return from Prairie Farm, but he would find consolation in the fact that three were teaching.
Libbie's school term finished in December and then she would be at home to help awhile before she moved to her own land. Lilly would soon be home on vacation. Willie was doing fine. Mother was no worse--nature was waging a successful battle in her case as in Lucinda's.
December was here and Libbie was home. She moved about in a cheerful, happy way. Mother and sister were still helplessly weak but with her to care for them and cook they would gain rapidly. Willie had accompanied his sister home for a short vacation but was back at his school in a week's time.
One morning Willie was unable to rise and go to his school --headache, fever. Dr. Whinney was called out from Rice Lake and turning to Mrs. Demars he said, "A case of typhoid." Youth is not easily daunted. Willie thought of home, however, and after days turned to weeks he wished his father would come and see him. "Surely mother and sister are well by this time," he reasoned. Dr. Whinney wrote Mr. Logan of his son's illness and asked him to come and see him.
In the Logan home the drama of sickness was still on. The first two patients were pitifully helpless and the third patient, Libbie, was daily growing worse--she too, was a typhoid victim. A few days later Mr. Logan received Dr. Whinney's letter--the return mail carried a short letter telling Dr. Whinney the conditions at home and saying he would come just as soon as possible, but not to tell Willie of Libbie's condition.
The coming days brought strength to young William and in due time he took up his school work. The game days increased the seriousness of Libbie's illness. Hope fled.
Another letter: "Come, Willie is worse." Dr. Whinney. " Torn between his double duty the father answered: "Can't come till there's a change here." Long before the line reached Dr. Whinney the change came -- the last long change, mortal to immortal!. Casket, cemetery, pastor, church--where were they? If only Willie were here! Mr. Logan grew weak. Night after night of lonely vigil with midnight drives through snow filled roads, hoping against hope that his recompense would be Libbie's recovery, not daring to falter lest Mother in her weakness might also fail--and if Mother's heart were to fail. . . .
Night wore on. Stars shone outside. Somber, unleafed trees stood watching, still, as if fearful that one twig moving might burst the hearts of their cottage dwellers. White faced and trembling, they--mother and father of the dead--met the morning, which did not come as it always seemed to, before. It was evening time with them--dark, sad, bitter, a darkness within that morning light could not penetrate. But Nature has many forces and is resourceful beyond measure. As the light and warmth of day is fatal to the spent bloom, it at the same time is energy and life to the bursting bud at its side. So with the stricken--joy and happiness gone, duty springs up and sweet submission leads on. Mother stilled her heart with thoughts for Willie--he was needing his father--she would be brave so he could go to him.
The team was again put over the road to Prairie Farm, this time for a casket (which Knapp Stout & Co. kept in stock, bringing them up by team from Menomonie.) No burial place! Oh, must their farm, their home, their little clearing, become their cemetery? Was this pioneering?
Neighboring settlers came in, to aid and comfort. The matter was talked over and finally it was decided to take their loved Libbie's remains to a slight knoll just across the opening from the house.
The funeral over, Mr. Logan left for Willie's bedside. A hard day's drive brought him to the DeMars home, where he learned that the relapse was more severe than the first attack. And after being there but a brief time the father was looking into the lifeless eyes of his only son. A casket was obtained in Rice Lake and the return home I will leave to my readers--often, words fail!
Duty, Still there. in this lonely and stricken home--yes, to the dead, the living, and to God! Lilly finished her school. Mr. Logan filed an heir's right to the claim Libbie had taken. Later Lydia Ann married and her husband, Joe Cobb, Took over the Claim. Later still Lydia Ann proved up on the claim and held it until late years, when it was sold to an outsider.
Lilly became the bride of Joe Burrell, Lucinda married Ed Smith. Ethel inheriting the family trait of education and teaching taught for many years in Barron county before her marriage to Wm. Modersbach of Comstock. Mary, next older than Ethel, was Mrs. Urban Larson of West Dallas.
Mr. and Mrs. Logan stayed on in their cottage home. Somehow, try as they would, the old-time cheer never completely reigned, for there, where "some day" the new home and wide tilled acreage was to be, lay two conquerors--stilled.
Yet Mr. and Mrs. Logan labored on, trusting in a final victory. Mr. Logan did much Sunday school work and distributing of religious literature in the early day homes. The tendency toward teaching spiritual truths seems to rest especially with the Burrall faction of this family and their daughter, Jessie, brought real fame to the family through this channel. Miss Jessie, born on a farm near to the home of her grandparents and the homestead of her Aunt Lydia, in West Dallas, grew to womanhood in Minnesota. After graduating from high school and college she took up teaching as her life's vocation. During the war she was engaged as chief of school service by the National Geographic Society in the city of Washington DC. While there she organized a girls' Sunday school class with a membership of 500 which in a short time reached the goal of 2,000 and carried with it the distinction of being the world's largest girls' Sunday school class.
The special aim of this able teacher-leader, who on her maternal side is descended from five generations of New England ministers, is religious, and all her efforts tend toward the stimulation of religious work at home and abroad.
After the war she accepted a position as a religious instructor in Stephens college, Columbus, MO, and in nine months found herself teacher of a Sunday school class that had grown by her efforts from a small class of men and woman from the college and state university to a number nearing 2,000. About this time the American Magazine in an article on Interesting People, said this of Miss Burrall: "Miss Burrall is a human dynamo, spending her strength prodigally but apparently drawing on some unseen force for renewed vitality. She is a rather fragile looking little woman, scarcely more than 5 feet in height and weighing only 115 pounds.
During the week she gives her time to lecturing and teaching. But if you could see her on Sunday morning, when she faces her great class, you would never guess that she had worked hard all the week. Her enthusiasm and freshness of energy would make you conclude that she had done nothing but rest and save her strength for the Sunday morning message to her pupils.
Miss Burrall reads more than 30 magazines each month in order to know what her young people are reading. She believes that prayer is as essential as breathing and just as natural." Miss Jessie Burrall (my 2nd Cousin 2x removed)
In 1929 the Jessie Burrall Hall was dedicated in memory of the work done by this plucky girl in Columbus, Mo.
After a motor trip to the Vermont hills and through New York state, where she took her mother, Lilly Logan Burrall, to visit the scenes of her greats' and grandparents' homes, she was united in marriage with Prof. Eubanks, who is a writer as well as a teacher. Together, they are carrying on the great work so near to Mrs. Eubanks' heart.
This pioneer mother and father have long since ceased their toil. They no longer watch the Balm of Gileads leaf. "At rest" they lie, close to their only son, and daughter Libbie. Part of the old farm is still owned by a member of the family. The schoolhouse where Mr. Logan and family loved to gather for Sunday services has for many years been replaced by a more modern one. The little plot of ground where Libbie and William were laid was given to Dallas as a cemetery in which, besides those mentioned are to be found many other pioneers.
The Balm of Gileads are still budding for leaf."
Another story written of him:
Abstracted from pages 98/99 of The History Of Barron County, Wisconsin, published in 1922, by H.C. Cooper, Jr. & Co., Minneapolis, Minnesota:
William Henry Logan was born August 30, 1826 in Portland, New York. He was a man of pious inclinations, and after arriving in Wisconsin, went from place to place in the wilderness, distributing religious tracts and organizing Sunday Schools so that the children living there might be reared in Christianity. On Sep. 9, 1849, after leaving New York state, he married Margaret J. Hyland at Highland Prairie, Wisconsin. She was born Oct 27, 1930 Hillsburg, New Hampshire. In the early 1850s they moved to Sauk County, Wisconsin, and in 1872 homesteaded 160 acres of land in Dallas Township, Barron County, Wisconsin. He developed the farm over the course of twenty-seven years and died there March 19, 1899. His wife died at Stone Lake, Wisconsin on April 24, 1919.
William and Margaret were the parents of nine children as follows: Clamania, born June 3, 1850 in Beaver Dam, Dame County, Wisconsin, and became the wife of S.A. Stowe, of Neenah, Wisconsin; Elizabeth F. was born June 13, 1852 in Burnett, Sauk County and was deceased as of 1922; William A. was born May 2, 1854 in Burnett, Sauk County, and was deceased as of 1922; Lillie J. was born July 11, 1857 in Westfield, Marquette County, Wisconsin, and became the wife of J.H. Burrall of Little Falls, Minnesota; Lydia A. was born Jan. 12, 1859 in Westfield, Wisconsin, and was deceased as of 1922; Margaret L. was born Feb. 11, 1863, in Westfield, and became the wife of Edgar A. Smith of Barron, Wisconsin; Lemuel H. was born Oct. 24, 1864 in Westfield and was deceased as of 1922; Mary L. was born June 23, 1867 in Reedsburg, Sauk County, and became the wife of U.L. Parsons; and Ethel M. was born April 5, 1870 in Reedsburg, and became the wife of William Modersbach of Comstock, Wisconsin.
You must be logged in to post a comment.