These two letter were written by William David Burch (1809-1874) and his brother, Landon J. Burch, (1801-1882), the sons of John Long Burch (1759-1834) and Elizabeth Benham (1777-1853) of Barren county, Kentucky. The brothers emigrated from Kentucky to Iowa Territory, Landon about 1838 and William about 1840,

William and Landon both wrote their letters to Robert Harrison Ward (1813-1860), the son of Seth Ward (1770-1815) and Rebecca Griffin (1770-18xx). Robert was first married in Barren county, Kentucky, in 1834 to Elizabeth Ann Nichols. He married 2nd Charlotte O’Neal and moved to Knoxville, Iowa, in the mid 1850s.

William’s letter, datelined from Knoxville, Iowa, contains a lengthy paragraph describing what he called “Iowa Mobocracy”—a kind of pact between the settlers to protect each others land from encroachment by squatters and others looking to take away the claims on which they had made improvements—whether legal or not. Might makes right, in other words. He even describes a posse of men in black face who intercept an interloper and sent him away tarred and feathered.

Letter 1

Knoxville, Iowa
January 28, 1849

One thing or another has kept me from writing for some time. I have concluded to commence a letter to let you know that we are all alive yet and in good health. Thought I am somewhat afflicted with rheumatism which I think probably is occasioned by the severity of our winter weather. We have had a great deal—the hardest winter that I ever saw in my life. It set in, I think, sometime between the middle and last of November and has been steady cold weather ever since with the exception of a very few days. There has been about 20 inches of snow but it has settled down, I suppose, about four or five inches. Snowstorms have been so frequent that it has been very difficult for people to go to mill or to travel about anywhere, the roads being so filled up.

It has been a hard winter on stock. I believe everybody through this section of country that I have heard of who has any hogs have had more or less of them to die. But today has more the appearance of moderating and turning warm than it has since it commenced. It is pleasant today. The snow is getting soft. I have done no work this winter except getting wood and feeding my stock and in fact, it has not been possible for any person to do anything more. I have about half of my corn standing out yet, which I can’t gather till the snow foes off, and some people prophesies that will not be till sometime in March.

I have no much stock now. I sold four head of cattle last fall (a yoke of two year-old steers, one year-old steer, and a calf) for thirty-one dollars. I have now only five head left, four of them will have calves this spring if they have good luck. I have 32 head of hogs. I had four or five to die this winter and I have two or three more that I think will die yet. My old mare and colt and that is all the stock I have.

This is now the 4th day of February and I feel somewhat in one of my silent ways, like I had not much to say, and like I would rather read two letters than to write one. But nevertheless I have commenced this letter and I will try and write some more, but where you look for news, I fear you will only find something old and dry. And where you look for interesting matter, I fear you will find a blank. But I will try to tell you as well as I can how I am getting along.

I killed plenty of meat to do me this winter. For the first time I have had plenty of my own since I lived here, and if I have common luck with my hogs till next fall, I shall have about two thousand pounds pork to spare. I have entered 40 acres of land which has the most of my little improvements on it. The balance of my claim is not in market yet, nor I can’t tell when it will be but I guess it will be before I am ready for it. The Soldier’s Warrants has been a great advantage to the people of this country. 160 acre warrants can be bought for 125 dollars. There is but little land entered now in any other way though this has been no advantage to me.

I had a notion to write a little to you concerning our Iowa Mobocracy. The people here entered into an article to defend and protect each other in holding their claims and preventing others from entering the land. Some time last summer a man by the name of Majors of Mahaska county entered the claim of a Mr. Gillespie of this county. Gillespie went and offered him the money for the land. Majors would not give the land up. Gillespie raised a small company and went one night to try to make him come into measures. They burned an old corn crib of Majors and done his property some trifling damage. Majors then have his bond for a deed to the land but he went and got out a writ and had one of the men (probably the only one he knew had taken up and carried to Oskaloosa jail (however the man was not put in jail but permitted to go at liberty about town) till the time for his trial. Gillespie then came to Knoxville and raised a company of above 200 men (myself and most of the men in this neighborhood was in the crowd) and went to Oskaloosa to take the man out of jail, as we thought. Seeing this company so determined, Majors withdrew his suit against the man, renewed his bond, and we all came home thinking the matter then settled. Gillespie soon afterwards paid him the money and got orders for his land, but Majors again got out writs for some of the men who had destroyed his property. The sheriff of Mahaska resigned his office rather than to arrest the men. Majors then brought his papers to the sheriff of this county but a company of artificial Negroes caught him and gave him a complete coating of tar and feathers, and made him take his papers back, and I have heard nothing of him since. So much for our mob law. Whether it be right or wrong, I believe that the people here feels like sticking to it and a man is in some danger here to enter another man’s claims.

I am getting my sheet pretty near scribbled over and I feel sensible that there is not half the worth in it that you will have to pay for it. I am getting old (the ninth day of next October, you know, I will be 40) and whereas I used to try to write a good deal of foolishness when I wrote a letter, I now think it would become me more to write something more serious and solid if I could, but it is not in me yet, and therefore, you must not expect to get it out of me. You can’t get blood out of a turnip. I want you to write to me oftener than you do, and think not because I don’t write oftener that I do not want you to write. Write to me as serious as you please, or as funny as you please, so you let me know how you all are getting along there. Tell me whether mama is alive yet, where she is, and how she is doing, and whether you ever hear from dada Elliot and his folks, and what they are all about. Landon and I have been talking about taking a trip to Kentucky to see you all, if we could get our matters arranged right, sometime but my part of it, I reckon is like them Kentuckians who talked of coming to Iowa—“More talk than cider.” But if Landon takes a notion to come, he will be pretty apt to do it and I think if he comes, I will not be far behind him. I will now just quit. The weather remains cold. — W. D. Burch

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Letter 2

[Note: Only a partial transcription.]

Marion county, Iowa
July 9, 1849

After a long time trying in vain I have found a beginning place once more to write, but I am satisfied now that my letter will be a feeble production and you may well wonder why I have not written before now when I tell you that all of your letters has duly come to hand…

In my last letter I bragged about my bees, hogs, cattle, mill, fruit trees, &c. of which I have no reason yet to trouble or complain though the high water (which was much higher than I ever saw it) injured me a little when the snow went off in March. The cold winter killed some of my peach trees and bees. Also some of my small hogs while I was sick. But all this is no cause of trouble. But in my last letter I bragged on my boy—my oldest boy [Orestes Ducalion Burch] who is now dead—who has been dead more than four months, which loss seems to be the worst that I have ever felt. Yet the hurt is not worse than when we lost our oldest girl [Mantura Elizabeth Burch]— not so bad, for I had not got over that. Neither do I ever expect to. And at the same time, frequently saying, “Why not?” when I have to go the same way so soon.

He and I was both taken sick on the last Friday in February about noon and on Tuesday night following he died. I suppose I was very bad for several days about that time but on the 7th or 8th day after I was taken, I began to mend and after several weeks I was again up and about and am now as stout as common, and the balance of us all well.

I don’t know whether you will excuse my neglect for not writing sooner or not, but if I had written sooner, it might have been a poorer letter (if possible) than this and you are so much disposed to complain of the poor barrenness of my letters that had I a modest respect for myself I should hardly write to you at all… — Landon J. Burch