Mr. Dinsmore was born in Greene county, Tennessee, September 9th, 1811. At the age of twenty-one he left home and went to Laurel county, Kentucky, and at the little village of London, in that state, he learned the blacksmith trade, a trade which his father before him had followed. He was married October 25th, 1842, to Miss Martha A. Blakely. Six years later they decided to try their fortunes farther west, and September 28th, 1848, they landed in Daviess county. Mr. Dinsmore at once took a claim and began the erection of a cabin, and the following spring found them at home to their friends in a brand new home of their own. The spot chosen was on high rolling land in a beautiful glade near Cottonwood creek. A short time before her death, which occurred but a few years ago, Mrs. Dinsmore, while visiting at the writer's home, told of her first visit to that new home. It was upon a Saturday afternoon that her husband reported the new house finished and they drove over to see it. They drove across the prairie that stretched away for miles and the tall blue stem grass was stirred by a gentle breeze into undulating billows of an emerald sea and decorated with an endless variety of flowers of variegated hues. Down along the creek the trees were in full leaf and in the shady coverts the birds were singing their songs of joy, for they, too, were building homes and were happy. But yonder in the distance, brightest spot in all the landscape, stands the little cabin that is to be to them a habitation and a home. For them the sun never shown more brightly, nor did the skies ever look so serenely blue as on that Saturday afternoon. And why not? It was the springtime of life as well as of the year. Here they lived and wrought, reared their family of ten children and prospered. In appearance, Samuel K. Dinsmore was tall, spare and straight as an Indian. Large boned, sinewy, rather than muscular, he had that wiry strength and power of endurance that made him tireless either on foot or in the saddle. He walked with a long, easy stride, with leg well bent at the knee as is the habit of men when used to uneven surfaces. Square jawed, mouth large, teeth small and even, eyes blue and overhung by bushy eyebrows, hair thick and inclined to bristle. His temper was not angelic and in the heat of passion he was liable to do rash things rather than truly brave ones. There was nothing negative about the man. A thing to him was either right or wrong. There was no room for compromise, no middle ground. If he was your friend you knew it. If your enemy he was not backward about letting you know that too. He rarely forgot an insult or forgave an injury. He had his own code of ethics by which he measured, his own acts and those of other men. If a man was honest and truthful and paid his debts promptly, he was good enough. The man who failed to measure up to this standard need not expect any favors from him. I was at his shop one morning when a neighbor drove up and hitching his team came into the shop and bade Dinsmore "good morning." Dinsmore gave him one quick glance and his jaws came together like a steel trap and the sparks flew a little faster from the piece of iron that he was hammering, but he made no response. The man stood around for a while and finally told Dinsmore that he had come to buy some seed corn. Then Dinsmore's wrath burst its channels and he poured out such a torrent of abuse upon that man that it fairly drowned him. There had been some misunderstanding between them and the man had either forgotten or did not choose to remember it, but if he thought to find Dinsmore in the same fix, he soon discovered his error. Just as the man was leaving an old darkey drove up upon the same errand, but said that he had no money and would Mr. Dinsmore be so kind as to credit him. '"Yes," said Dinsmore, "you are honest if you are black, and you can get what corn you need and pay for it when you can. Go to the crib and help yourself." Dinsmore worked hard and allowed himself but few pleasures in life. Hunting and fishing were the only pastimes in which he ever indulged and these only at times when it did not interfere with his work. He kept a pack of hounds and found his chief pleasure in following the chase. Quick tempered and sensitive, easily offended and slow to forgive a real or fancied wrong, he was usually at cross purposes with most of his neighbors. It does not follow from this that Dinsmore was a bad man, for he was not; but unfortunately, he would often do or say things in the heat of passion which he would doubtless soon sincerely regret, but he was stubborn and unyielding and would allow himself to be misuuderstood and disliked rather than make overtures for peace. Sometimes I think that there are men of this type who enjoy being miserable and who, should they find themselves at peace with all the world and nothing to hate, would be decidedly uncomfortable. The following incident illustrates the almost childish petulance of this man at times, and of how one man evened the score with him : The lands of A. L. Martin and Dinsmore joined; they had fallen out and a result of their misunderstanding was a "Devil's Lane" between the premises. A Devil's Lane is one which is too narrow to turn a wagon in or for one wagon to pass another. One day Dinsmore saw Nath Snider enter this lane driving a wagon and not feeling friendly towards Snider, he intercepted him and ordered him to go back. Snider tried to reason the case, said he could not turn around as the lane was too narrow and tried to prevail on Dinsmore to let him pass. But Dinsmore was inexorable and Snider was compelled to lay down the fence on Martin's side of the lane and drive into the field, turn around and go back. That was the first act, but the incident was not closed Snider went home and "nursed his wrath to keep it warm." A few days later, perhaps on a Saturday afternoon, Dinsmore mounted his favorite riding mare, "Kit," and started for Grand River to fish.
His favorite resort was a place known then as the "high banks," and in order to reach this point on the river his nearest route led through a narrow lane that crossed Snider's land. When he arrived at this lane Dinsmore, without hesitation, entered it, but when about midway he was suddenly startled by a command to halt. On glancing up he found himself looking into a double barreled shotgun and the man behind the gun was Nath Snider, and when Snider ordered him to "go back," Dinsmore took him at his word and went. Dinsmore was so neatly trapped and the tables so completely turned that I think he rather enjoyed the situation. Besides it was his own medicine and he could not be heard to complain even if it was a trifle bitter.

From: Memories by J F Jordin