and, I think, Dyer Usher, were there, but not in the fight. The case came up before his honor, Aaron Usher, a justice of the peace, who fined some of the participants $1.00 each, which ended the litigation and the claim dispute. The last claim case I will mention was of much greater magnitude, and out of it originated the Bill Johnson war, in which several lives were lost, including one Indian. It began in Buchanan county. William Bennett and a man purporting to be Bill Johnson of the Canadian patriot war were the principles in the extensive trouble. Bennett was an enterprising, public-spirited man and had a quantity of workmen and retainers helping build the first grist mill at Quasqueton, on the Wapsipinicon river. He was a man of sturdy muscular frame, swarthy complexion, dark eyes, strong jaws, a man who would be a good friend or a bad enemy. Johnson was older, tall and angular, with black bushy hair, on whose lips shone no smile, under whose brow lurked treason, stratagem, and spoil. I became acquainted with Johnson in a rather romantic way, which you will excuse me for relating, as it shows some of the perils and hardships incident to the settling of a new country. On the 12th of November, 1842, a deep snow fell and remained till the next April, with additions during the winter. It has always since been called the hard winter of 1842 and '43. During the winter my friend, Anderson Chambers, later a prosperous business man of Muscatine, and I had been up in the country between the Wapsipinicon and the Volga. The snow drifts were so deep and the day so dark that night overtook us several hours ride from any human habitation. Before dark we went into a little scattering timber on a small stream and under the bluff hitched our horses to a bush. We found some dry poles and got some dry rotten wood out of a tree, scraped away the snow with our feet, and with the aid of a flint and some tow and powder, we managed to start a little fire. Matches were not then in use. We cut some brush and laid it on the ground, spread one horse blanket on that to lie on, and with another to cover us and our saddles for pillows, we slept through the long night until daylight, when we resumed our ride. About the middle of the forenoon we came in sight of an improvement in the edge of the timber, and I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled that a frontiersman's log cabin was there. We went into the house, which was neat and clean, and told them of our hard experience during the preceding night and day. They kindly sympathized with us and soon made us comfortable. It proved to be Bill Johnson's place. Kate Johnson and another young lady, Miss Kelso of Davenport, were there. They busied themselves about setting us up a fresh, warm, ten o'clock breakfast. I relished it more than any other breakfast I ever ate, the zest of which was no doubt heightened by being served by so charming a hostess, and me a susceptible bachelor, too.