when they were again all re-organized, with the following names and boundaries:

"All of township No. 71 and range No. 43 shall be known as LYONS TOWNSHIP.

"All of fractional township No. 72 and range No. 43, and the west half of township No. 72, and range No. 43, shall be known and described as PLATTEVILLE TOWNSHIP.

"Fractional township No. 73 and range No. 44, and one tier of sections off of the west side of township No. 73, and range No. 43, shall be known and described as the township of ST. MARYS, in place of Council Bluffs township.

"Township No. 71 of range No. 42 shall be known and described as RAWLES TOWNSHIP.

"The West half of township No. 72, range No. 42, and the east half of township No. 72, range No. 43, shall be known and described as GLENWOOD TOWNSHIP, heretofore known as West Liberty township.

"All of township No. 43, except one tier of sections off of the west side of said township, and the west half of township No. 73, range No. 42, shall be known and described as OAK TOWNSHIP.

"The west half of township No. 72, range No. 41, and the east half of township No. 72 of range 42, shall be known and described as SILVER CREEK TOWNSHIP.

"The west half township No. 73, range No. 41, and the east half of township No. 73 of range No. 42, shall be known and described as TownSHIP OF INGRAHAM.

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Township No. 72, range No. 40, and the east half of township No. 72, range No. 41, (except sections 34, 35 and 36 in said township) shall be known and described as TOWNSHIP OF INDIAN CREEK, in place of Montgomery township.

"The township No. 73 and range No. 40, and the east half of township 73, range No. 41, shall be known as MUD. CREEK TOWNSHIP, in place of Nishnabotna township.

"All of township No. 71, range No. 44, and range No. 41, and sections No. 34, 35 and 36, shall be known as WHITE CLOUD TOWNSHIP.

"The above changes and names of said townships shall take place and be known from and after the next April election in 1857."

No further change was made until 1861, when, at the January session of the board of supervisors, the following business was transacted.

"Resolved, That the name of Mud Creek township be changed to UNION."

An amendment was offered inserting ANDERSON, which was agreed to. The next change occurred January 9, 1879, and was the following:

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January 9, 1879.-Comes now Jacob Shoemaker, T. M. Britt, and

one hundred and eighty others, and file a petition asking to have an alteration in the number and boundaries of the townships in Mills county by creating a new civil township therein to be described and bounded as follows; Commencing at the the southeast corner of township seventytwo (72), range forty-two (42), and running thence north to the northeast. corner of said township and range, thence west to the northwest corner of the northeast quarter of section five (5), in said township and range, thence south to the center of section seventeen (17) in said township and range; thence west to the northwest corner of the southwest quarter of section eighteen (18) in said township and range; thence south to the southeast corner of said township and range; thence east to place of beginning. On motion a new civil township, described and bounded as above, is hereby created, and to be known as CENTER TOWNSHIP."

The last change to date was made July 6, 1880, and was, perhaps, the most foolish act the board has yet perpetrated officially. It is as follows: "In the matter of petition of citizens of Silver Creek township for a division of said township into two townships, the one to comprise the territory without the corporate limits of Malvern, and the other to comprise the territory within the corporate limits of said city of Malvern. It is hereby ordered that the petition be granted, and that said SILVER CREEK township be divided, the territory without the corporate limits of the city of MALVERN to be one township, and the territory within the corporate limits of said city of Malvern to be another township."

THE PIONEER.

Lo! here the smoke of cabins curled,
The borders of the middle world;

And mighty, hairy, half-wild men

Sat down in silence, held at bay
By mailed horse. Far away

The red men's boundless borders lay,
And lodges stood in legions there,
Striped pyramids of painted men.

What sturdy, uncommon men were these,
These settlers hewing to the seas;
Great horny handed men, and tan;
Men blown from every border land;
Men desperate and red of hand,
And men in love and men in debt,

And men who lived but to forget,
And men whose very hearts had died,
Who only sought these woods to hide
Their wretchedness, held in vain!
Yet every man among them stood
Alone, along the sounding wood,
And every man, somehow a man,
A race of unnamed giants these,
That moved like gods among the trees,
So stern, so stubborn-browed and slow,
With strength of black-maned buffalo,
And each man notable and tall,
A kingly and unconscious Saul,
A sort of sullen Hercules.

A star stood large and white awest,
Then time uprose and testified;
They push'd the mailed wood aside,
They toss'd the forest like a toy,
That great forgotten race of men
The boldest band that yet has been
Together since the siege of Troy,

And followed it-and found their rest.

What strength! What strife! What rude unrest!

What shocks! What half shaped armies met!

A mighty nation moving west,

With all its steely sinews set
Against a living forest. Here,
The shouts, the shots of Pioneer!
The rended forests! rolling wheels,
As if some half checked army reels,
Recoils, redoubles, comes again,
Loud sounding like a hurricane.
Oh bearded, stalwart, westmost men,
So tower like, so Gothic built!
A kingdom won without the guilt

Of studied battles, that hath been

Your blood's inheritance, * * * *

Your heirs

Know not your tombs. The great plowshares

Cleave softly through the mellow loam

Where you have made eternal home

And set no sign.

Your epitaphs

Are written in furrows. Beauty laughs

While through the green waves wandering
Beside her love, slow gathering,

White starry hearted, May time blooms.
Above your lowly level'd tombs;
And then below the spotted sky
She stops, she leans, she wonders why
The ground is heaved and broken so,
And why the grasses darker grow
And droops, and trail like wounded wing.
Yea, time, the grand old Harvester,
Has gathered you from wood and plain.
We call to you again, again;

The rush and rumble of the car

Comes back in answer. Deep and wide
The wheels of progress have pass'd on;
The silent Pioneer is gone,

His ghost is moving down the trees,
And now we push the memories,

Of bluff, bold men who dared and died

In foremost battle, quite aside.

Oh perfect Eden of the earth,
In poppies sown, in harvest set;
Oh sires, mothers of my west;

How shall we count your proud request?
But yesterday you gave us birth;
We eat your hard earned bread to-day,
Nor toil, nor spin, nor make regret,

But praise our pretty selves and say
How great we are, and all forget
The still endurance of the rude

Unpolish'd sons of solitude.- Joaquin Miller.

TO THE PRESENT.

Many years ago the hardy and ambitious sons and daughters, who first came to Mills county, left their paternal roofs and sought homes in the untamed wilderness of what was then the West. They were not the effeminate sons and languid daughters of wealthy parents, who had been reared in the lap of luxury, for such never dare the perils of a frontier life.

They had, from their infancy been taught, by precept and example, that industry and economy which had enabled their fathers to thrive among the rocks and hills of Kentucky. Some of them started alone, with knapsacks on their backs, rifles on their shoulders, and axes in their hands. Thus accoutred they bade adieu for a time to the loved ones at home, and turned their faces westward to seek their future homes and fortunes in the wilderness. For a time they followed the trail of previous emigrants, but sooner or later they abandoned this, left the borders of civilization, and struck into the forest. Having selected suitable locations and secured their titles, if the latter were needed, they began preparations for the future. Temporary shelters were constructed, and clearings were begun; while this work was in progress these solitary laborers procured what supplies they required from St. Joseph, the nearest settlement and many miles away. Their nearest neighbors were sometimes a score of miles in the forest or on the prairie-and with these they occasionally exchanged visits or planned for the future. By night they lay in their rude shelters on beds of grass, or even boards hewn from the logs they had felled, to dream of the homes they had left, or those their fancy pictured; or, in their intervals of wakefulness, listened to the distant howling of the wolf, or were startled by the near hooting of the owl.

Day after day they toiled on, sustained solely by their hopes and plans for the future. The work of the adventurer completed, he turned his face homeward, and with light heart came again to the scenes of childhood. Here were parents, and brothers, and sisters, to welcome him warmly and listen to the recital of his experience in the western wild. He received a still more hearty welcome from another, who, during his long absence, had not ceased to think of him by day and to dream of him by night. She listened to the story of his doings with a deeper interest,, for to her and him they were matters of equal importance.

A wedding soon occurred, and the last winter of the pair in their native state was a season of busy preparation for removal to their western home, interspersed with social gatherings and merry-makings among the scenes and companions of their childhood. They sat down to their last Thanksgiving dinner, attended their last Christmas and New Year's festivals with former playmates and school-fellows, and on the approach of spring bade adieu to all the old friends and scenes, and departed for their new home. At length the last settlement was reached. Then they entered at once upon the realities of pioneer life, for now there were no roads to guide them; behind were the last vestiges of civilization; ahead was a strange land and deep privation. The clearing of the summer before is at length reached, and the busy cares of a frontier home life begin. They passed the winter in the woods-for the early settlers of Mills avoided the open prairie. The sound of the husband's axe echoed through the forest