Three Score Yearsand Ten. [Illustration] "THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN, " LIFE-LONG MEMORIES OF _FORT SNELLING, MINNESOTA_, AND OTHER PARTS OF THE WEST, BY CHARLOTTE OUISCONSIN VAN CLEVE. 1888. COPYRIGHTED 1888. PRINTING HOUSE HARRISON & SMITH, 257 AND 259 FIRST AVENUE SOUTH, MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. _DEDICATION. _ "_To the husband of my youth, by whose side I have journeyed more thanhalf a century, and whose tender love has brightened my whole life, this book is dedicated. _" ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA, _515 Portland Avenue_. March 14, 1888. MY DEAR MRS. VAN CLEVE: _Whenever there is growth in any community the desire arises to knowsomething of what was in the beginning. It was with no weariness Iread in manuscript the "Reminiscences" from your pen. Each chaptercontains something in connection with the dawn of civilization in thewest, which is worthy of being preserved. The incidents related arestirring, and the style is graphic. When I finished the perusal I feltthe force of the adage, that "Truth is Stranger than Fiction. " As thediary of John Evelyn, throwing light upon the days of Charles theSecond, is still read, so I think, if printed, your unaffectednarrative will always find a place in the private and public librariesof Minnesota and the Western States. _ _Believe me_, _Sincerely_, EDWARD D. NEILL. * * * * * TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. 7 II. 16 III. 24 IV. 32 V. 38 VI. A COINCIDENCE. 45 VII. ANDREW TULLY. 49 VIII. A WOLF STORY. 62 IX. RED RIVER OR SELKIRK SETTLEMENT. 68 X. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 74 XI. 80 XII. CINCINNATI. 91 XIII. NEW HOME--SCHOOL DAYS. 99 XIV. FATHER'S DEATH, ETC. 105 XV. 110 XVI. 125 XVII. 131 XVIII. MALCOLM CLARK. 148 XIX. 157 XX. 161 XXI. 167 XXII. THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 173 * * * * * "Three Score Years and Ten. " _CHAPTER I. _ One evening long ago, when this wonderful century, now in a vigorousold age, had just passed its nineteenth birthday, in a bright, cheerful sitting-room in the good old city of Hartford, Conn. , sat afair young matron beside a cradle in which lay sleeping a beautifulboy a year and a half old. The gentle motion of her little slipperedfoot on the rocker, keeping time with the soft humming of a cradlehymn; the work-basket near by; and the dainty needle work in her hand;the table tastefully spread for two, and the clear wood fire in theold-fashioned fireplace, formed as restful a picture of domestic peaceand content as one could wish to see. But the expectant look in the bright blue eyes, uplifted at eachsound, clearly indicated that some one was coming who should round outthis little circle and make it complete. And now the familiar footstep draws near and the husband and fatherenters; she rises joyfully to meet him, but seeing in his face a lookof grief or pain, exclaims, "What is it, dear husband?" He holds hervery close, but cannot find words to tell her that which will crossall their cherished plans of a year's quiet resting in her nativecity; and handing her an official document, with its ominous red sealnewly broken, he watches her anxiously as she reads: _Lieutenant Nathan Clark, U. S. Fifth Infantry_: You are hereby appointed Assistant Commissary of Subsistence, and will forthwith join your regiment at Detroit, which is under orders to move to the Mississippi river and establish a military post at the mouth of the St. Peters river. With respect and esteem, GEORGE GIBSON, Com. Gen. Of Subsistence. Twice she reads this order, and then, looking up with a smile, says, with a slight tremor in her voice: "Is this all, beloved? Why shouldit so distress you? You surely do not flinch from duty?" With aperceptible start at such a suggestion, the gallant young soldierreplies: "No, no, my precious wife; but this means separation from youand our boy, for you cannot venture on so long and perilous a journeyas that, and our separation is not for days and months, it may be foryears; how can I endure it? And we were so happy here in our snuglittle cottage--you in the midst of early friends and belovedrelatives, your childhood companions and associations all about you;and I with my duties as recruiting officer. We had reason to hope andexpect at least a year longer of this life, and this sudden blastingof our hopes seems cruel. Oh, Charlotte! how can you bear thethought?" As he thus poured out his heart, her eyes regarded him withwonder, and when he ceased she drew him to his favorite chair, and, seating herself on a low stool beside him, took his hand in hers, and, looking up at him through her tears, said with ineffable tenderness:"My own dear husband; how could you for a moment imagine that thisorder means separation? Could you believe that I would remain here incomfort, and suffer you to go alone to that far-off region where, ifever, you will need me to cheer and aid you? If my marriage vows meananything, they mean that I am not to forsake you at such a time asthis. What would the comforts of this dear home, what the society ofrelatives and friends be to me, with you in a wild country, in themidst of a savage people, deprived of almost everything that makeslife dear? No, no, my beloved; where thou goest I will go; thy peopleshall be my people; entreat me not to leave thee, or to refrain fromfollowing after thee, for naught but death shall part thee and me. " The young soldier took his true, brave wife to his heart, and, holdingher close, exclaimed: "How deep and sacred is the love of woman! whocan comprehend its entire unselfishness?" and both found relief inblessed tears of love and thankfulness which cleared away all doubtsand anxieties and filled them with hope and happiness. Over theevening meal future plans were cheerfully discussed, dangers anddifficulties were looked bravely in the face, and feeling that, withundying love for each other and entire trust in God, they could meetand conquer whatever lay in their way, these young people restedpeacefully during that night, which had shown them how firm was thebond which held them to each other, and were strengthened to meet thestorm of opposition that broke upon them in the morning from therelatives and friends of the young wife and mother. Preparations were rapidly made; household goods disposed of; allthings necessary for a long, toilsome journey packed; heart-breaking"good-byes" were spoken, and the faces of the travelers were turnedwestward. A wearisome stage journey of many days brought them to Buffalo, where, after resting a short time, they embarked in schooners for Detroit onthe 1st of May, which city they reached in time to move forward withthe regiment by water to Green Bay; thence in batteaux they ascendedthe Fox river to Lake Winnebago. Col. Leavenworth, then in command ofthe regiment, having received instructions to conciliate the Indians, and avoid everything which might arouse the opposition of these ownersof the soil, determined to stop at this point to hold a council withthem, and crave permission to proceed on their journey. This beingannounced to the chiefs of the tribe, they assembled to hear what the"white brother" had to say. The day was beautiful; the troops, all infull uniform, "with bayonets glancing in the sun, " made an imposingdisplay, and everything was done to render it a memorable andimpressive occasion. The ladies of the party--Mrs. Leavenworth, Mrs. Gooding, with their young daughters, and Mrs. Clark, with her baby boywere seated on the turf enjoying the novelty and beauty of the scene, when some Indian women, attracted by the unusual sight, drew timidlynear and gazed in wonder at what they saw. One of the officers, MajorMarston, the wag of the party, learning that one of them was the headchief's wife, desired to show her some distinguishing mark of respect, and, leading her into the group of ladies, said, with due ceremony, "This is the Queen, ladies; make room for the Queen;" but as thisspecimen of royalty was almost too highly perfumed with a mingled odorof fish and musk-rat to suit the cultivated taste of her entertainers, they did not hail her advent with any marked enthusiasm. When all was in order, Colonel Leavenworth stepped forth, and, throughan interpreter, formally requested of the Chief permission to passpeaceably through their country. The Chief, a very handsome youngbrave, advanced, and, with his right arm uncovered, said, with mostexpressive gestures: "My brother, do you see the calm, blue sky aboveus? Do you see the lake that lies so peacefully at our feet? So calm, so peaceful are our hearts towards you. Pass on!" With this fullpermission so gracefully bestowed, after resting and refreshingthemselves among their newly-made friends, the troops left among thema liberal supply of beads and trinkets and passed on to that point onthe river, least distant from the Ouisconsin, where they made aportage, transporting their boats and supplies, by the aid of Indianshired for the purpose, a distance of a mile and a half. This was atedious process, but was at last successfully accomplished, and theboats were again afloat on the stream, called by the Indians the"Nee-na-hoo-na-nink-a, " (beautiful little river), and by the whites"Ouisconsin, " the French orthography for what we now write"Wisconsin. " The place of transit from one river to the other wasknown for years as the Portage. At the point where the troops madepreparations for crossing it was afterwards built Fort Winnebago, anddirectly opposite the fort, on a pretty knoll, stood for many yearsthe Indian agency occupied for a long time by John Kinzie, agent, afterwards better known as one of the first owners of Chicago, andMrs. Kinzie's "Waubun, " or early day, gives a very pleasant andreliable account of that locality and the surrounding country. Thepoint on the Wisconsin where the re-embarkation of the troops tookplace has grown into Portage City. In spite of heavy rains and other discouraging circumstances, thetedious descent of the Ouisconsin was at length successfullyaccomplished, and at its mouth stood old Fort Crawford and asettlement of French and half-breeds called "Prairie du Chien. " Thisfort was simply a rude barracks, and far from comfortable. The twomonths' journey from Buffalo had been very trying, serious obstaclesand hindrances had been encountered and barely overcome, but insteadof reaching their final destination in June, as they confidentlyexpected to do, the troops arrived at Fort Crawford on the morning ofthe first day of July, worn out and exhausted. It was thereforedetermined to remain at this point some weeks for rest and renewal ofstrength, before making the final plunge into the unknown wilderness, into the very midst of savages, who might resist their progress andcause them much trouble. The transportation of their supplies had been attended with so muchdifficulty that, notwithstanding all possible care, the pork barrelsleaked badly and the contents were rusty; the flour had been soexposed to dampness that for the depth of three inches or more it wassolid blue mould, and there was no choice between this wretched fareand starvation, for the miserable country about the fort afforded nosupplies. Just at this juncture, scarcely an hour after her arrival, Mrs. Clark's second child was born, and named Charlotte, for her mother, towhich was added by the officers "Ouisconsin. " When one calls to mindall the care and comforts and luxuries demanded at the present time onsuch occasions, it is difficult to realize how my mother endured herhardships, and when I add that almost immediately both she and mybrother were seized with fever and ague, which soon exhausted theirstrength and made them very helpless, it would seem almost beyondbelief that she should survive. The new-born infant was entirely deprived of the nourishment naturekindly provides for incipient humanity, thus complicating to a greatdegree the trials of that dreadful time. My dear father could neverspeak of that experience without a shudder, and has told me, with muchemotion, how he scoured the whole country to find suitable nourishmentfor mother and children, with wretched success; adding that, but forthe dear mother's unfailing courage, her wonderfully hopefuldisposition and her firm trust in God, he could hardly have enduredthese heavy trials. The surgeon of the regiment at that time (I thinkhis name was Burns) was a man of science and great skill in hisprofession, but an inveterate drunkard, and it was no uncommonoccurrence, when his services were needed, to find him so stupefiedwith liquor that nothing but a liberal sousing in cold water would fithim for duty, and I imagine that "_soaking the doctor_" became asource of merriment which may have diverted their minds from heaviertrials. So long a time must have elapsed before the provisions could have beenofficially condemned and fresh supplies sent from St. Louis, thenearest base of supplies, for red tape was more perplexing andentangling then than now, when it is sent back and forth by lightning, that it was concluded to continue the journey with what they had, andso the troops moved on, and the feeble mother, the sick child and thelittle "Daughter of the Regiment" went with them. By reference to "Neill's History of Minnesota, " I see mention madethere of the arrival of ordnance, provisions and recruits from St. Louis before the departure from Prairie du Chien, but am inclined tobelieve that the additions to the commissariat could not have beenadequate to the needs, as there was much suffering for want of propersupplies. When all was in readiness the expedition finally began the ascent ofthe Mississippi. The flotilla was made up of batteaux and keel-boats, the latter having been fitted up as comfortably as possible for thewomen and children, and my father has told me that, notwithstandingthe inconveniences and annoyances of such a mode of traveling, thehope that the change might benefit all, and the fact that they weremaking the last stage of a very wearisome journey, inspired them withfresh courage, and a general cheerfulness prevailed throughout thecommand. _CHAPTER II. _ Of the difficulties and delays of that eventful journey up theMississippi, few at the present day can form a clear conception. Thekeel-boats, similar in construction to a canal-boat, were propelled bypoles all that three hundred miles, in the following manner: Severalmen stood on each side of the boat on what was called a running-board, with their faces to the stern, and, placing their long poles on theriver bottom, braced them against their shoulders and pushed hard, walking towards the stern. Then, detaching the poles, they walked backto the bow, and repeated this operation hour after hour, beingrelieved at intervals for rest. The perfect safety of this mode of travel commends itself to those whoare in no hurry, and desire to learn all about the windings of theriver and the geological and floral attractions along its banks. At night the boats were tied up, camp-fires were lighted, tentspitched, sentinels posted and everything made ready, in case of anirruption of Indians. Arriving at Lake Pepin, a few days were spent on its beautiful shores, resting, during which time the stores were overhauled and rearrangedand the boats regulated and put in perfect order. The sick weregrowing stronger, and the little baby who was living on pap made ofmusty flour and sweetened water, tied up in a rag, which did duty fora patent nursing bottle, grew wonderfully, and bade fair to be amarvel of size and strength. Sometime in September the pioneer regiment arrived in pretty goodcondition at--where? No fort, no settlement, no regular landing even;simply at the mouth of the St. Peters river, where we had been orderedto halt, and our long march was ended. For many weeks the boats were our only shelter, and the sense ofentire isolation, the thought that the nearest white neighbors werethree hundred miles away, and that months must elapse before theycould hope to hear a syllable from _home_, proved, at times, exceedingly depressing to these first settlers in Minnesota. I record, with pleasure, what has been often told me, that in that trying timethe courage of the ladies of the party did not fail them, and thattheir cheerful way of taking things as they came and making the bestof them, was a constant blessing and source of strength to that littlecommunity. Without loss of time a space was cleared very near the site ofMendota, trees were cut down, a stockade built enclosing log houseserected for the accommodation of the garrison; everything being madeas comfortable and secure as the facilities permitted. The Indiansproved friendly and peaceable, and the command entered upon theirlife at "St. Peters, " as it was first called, cheerfully andhopefully. A few days after their arrival Colonel Leavenworth, MajorVose, Surgeon Purcell, Mrs. Captain Gooding and my father made akeel-boat trip to the "Falls of St. Anthony, " and were amazed at thebeauty and grandeur of the scene. A prediction at that time that some then living would see these mightyfalls turn the machinery of the greatest mills in the world, and agreat and beautiful city arise on the adjacent shores, would have beencalled a visionary and impossible dream by those early visitors whosaw this amazing water power in its primeval glory. That first winter of '19 and '20, like all winters in this latitude, was very cold, with heavy snows and fierce winds, but there were manysunshiny days, and there was little or no complaining. The quarters, having been put up hastily, were not calculated toresist the severe storms which at times raged with great violence. Once during that memorable six months the roof of our cabin blew off, and the walls seemed about to fall in. My father, sending my motherand brother to a place of safety, held up the chimney to prevent atotal downfall; while the baby, who had been pushed under the bed inher cradle, lay there, as "Sairey Gamp" would express it, "smilingunbeknowns, " until the wind subsided, when, upon being drawn out fromher hiding-place, she evinced great pleasure at the commotion, andseemed to take it all as something designed especially for heramusement. By the prompt aid of a large number of soldiers the necessary repairswere rapidly made, and soon all was comfortable as before. But late inthe winter, owing to the lack of proper food, scurvy broke out amongthe soldiers, and forty of them died of this dreadful disease. Manymore were affected with it, and far removed as we were from all reliefin the way of change of diet or suitable remedies, it was a matter ofgreat uneasiness and alarm, as in the absence of necessary preventivesor restoratives medical skill availed nothing. However, as soon as the frost was sufficiently out of the ground toenable them to dig it, the Indians brought in quantities of thespignot root, assuring the surgeon that would cure the sick. Thisproved entirely efficacious. The scourge was removed, and after thattrial passed away the command was peculiarly exempt from sickness ofany kind. As soon as possible gardens were made. Everything grew rapidly, and asufficient supply of vegetables was secured to prevent any recurrenceof the evil. More permanent and comfortable quarters were built during the springat the beautiful spring on the fort side of the river, and named bythe officers "Camp Coldwater;" but before moving into the new campColonel Leavenworth was relieved from the command by Colonel JosiahSnelling, who, with his well-known energy and promptitude, immediatelybegan preparations for building the fort, the site of which had beenselected by Colonel Leavenworth. The saw-mill at "St. Anthony'sFalls, " so long known and remembered as the "Old Government Mill, " wasstarted as soon as practicable. Quarries were opened, and everythingwas done to facilitate the work, Colonel Snelling proving himself wellfitted for the duty assigned him, and the spring of 1820 was a verybusy one for the old Fifth Regiment. MRS. SNELLING'S LIFE. Mrs. Abigal Hunt Snelling was born at Watertown, Mass. , January 23d, 1797. Her father's name was Thomas Hunt, Colonel of the First Regimentof Infantry, U. S. A. , stationed then at Fort Wayne, Indiana, to whichplace his little daughter was taken when only six weeks old. Thejourney was performed on horseback, and the little baby was carried ona pillow, a long, rough trip for so young a traveler, and clearlyindicative of her subsequent experience. She tells in her old age of acoincidence in her life which impressed her forcibly. Her father diedand was buried at Bellefontaine, Ohio, and some years afterwardColonel Snelling was at this place with his family waiting orders, when their youngest child, an infant, named Thomas Hunt, sickened anddied, and was buried by the side of his grandfather. An incident inher eventful life well worthy of mention in a record of the earlydays of our State is that she gave birth to the first white child bornin Minnesota sixty-six years ago, and at the advanced age of ninetyyears she is alive to tell of it. Her ninetieth birthday wascelebrated a few months ago in Newport, Kentucky, where, with thehusband and children of a beloved daughter, who died some years ago, she is "only waiting till the shadows are a little longer grown. " She has been blind for many years, but otherwise her faculties areunimpaired and her health is excellent. I should like to have seen myold friend on that occasion, but could only send a congratulatoryletter, recalling the memories of old Fort Snelling, with which sheand I am so thoroughly identified. I am told she looked very lovely, and was much gratified at the pleasant surprise her friends hadprepared for her, but was somewhat excited, and was carefully watchedby her granddaughter, Miss Abby Hazard, who takes the most tender careof her precious grandmother. It is somewhat remarkable that just about that time I learned throughHon. Fletcher Williams, who has a special gift for findingantiquities, that an old lady who had been a member of Mrs. Snelling'sfamily at the fort was visiting her grandchildren at West St. Paul. Ilost no time in calling on her, and found that she was one of theSwiss refugees who came to Fort Snelling from the Red River country. Her maiden name was Schadiker. She had married Sergeant Adams, of theOrdnance Department, whom I remembered well as a most faithful andhighly respected man. After serving in the army many years atdifferent posts, he resigned and took up land not far from Chicago, near which city he made a home and lived a long while very happily, dying only a year or two ago at a very advanced age. Mrs. Adams and Ihad a most enjoyable visit together. She is in very comfortablecircumstances, and bears her age so bravely that it is hard to realizethat she is seventy-seven years old. She told me, among other things, of a voyage Colonel Snelling and family made up the Mississippi, returning from a visit to the East. The weather was very rough, and atLake Pepin, their boat having been wrecked, of course their provisionsand many things were lost. With what was left of the craft they huggedthe shore, and the crew made every effort to go forward, but, in theirdismantled condition and with little or nothing to eat, it was verydiscouraging work. She tells me that in this extremity the men caughthold of the branches of trees which hung over the water and propelledthe boat forward by inches, and Mrs. Snelling said to her: "Hannah, let us take hold of the willows, too, and pull. We may help, if it isever so little, " and they did so, pulling with all their might. Shesays she shall never forget their arrival at the fort at last. Myfather was in temporary command, and, learning in some way of theirapproach, sent help to them. He had had the fort illuminated and aColonel's salute fired in honor of the return, and finally the wearyones reached the old headquarters, where my mother had provided forthem a bountiful repast, and where they received so hearty a welcomethat they soon forgot their weariness and the hardships and perilsthrough which they had passed. NOTE. --Since this account was written, my dear old friend has gone to her rest; she died at the home of her son-in-law, Mr. Hazard, in Newport, Kentucky, September 6th, 1888, aged 91 years and seven months. She lived to hear the "Life-long memories of Fort Snelling" read to her by her loving relatives and enjoyed it exceedingly. _CHAPTER III. _ It seems proper to record here the names of the officers at the postat this time. They are as follows: Josiah Snelling, Colonel Fifth Infantry, commanding. S. Burbank, Brevet Major. David Perry, Captain. D. Gooding, Brevet Captain. R. A. McCabe, Lieutenant. N. Clark, Lieutenant. Joseph Hare, Lieutenant. P. R. Green, Lieutenant Acting Adjutant. W. G. Camp, Lieutenant Quartermaster. H. Wilkins, Lieutenant. Edward Purcell, Surgeon. In addition to these I give the names of some who came afterward. Allof them are among my earliest recollections, and I can remember eachby some peculiarity of speech or characteristic anecdote. In my oldage I find myself dwelling upon these recollections of my early yearswith pleasure, till the flight of time is forgotten, and in fancy I amback again at the old fort, a happy, light-hearted, petted child: Major Hamilton. Captains Russell, Garland, Baxley and Martin Scott. Lieutenants Alexander, Hunter, Harris, St. Clair Denny and Johnston. Major Laurence Taliaferro, Indian Agent. Captain Leonard and Mr. Ortley, Sutlers. Lieutenant Alexander was very popular, very kind-hearted and genial. Areply of his, when cornered in a discussion at one time, caused muchmerriment. The subject was bald-headed men. Some one remarked thatthose who became gray were seldom bald. Alexander replied withconsiderable warmth: "I know better than that, for my father is asgray as a badger, and hasn't a hair on his head. " Lieutenant Hunter was a great favorite, and in his way a model man, always courteous and attentive to ladies, and especially kind andconsiderate to the little ones, but wonderfully firm and unyielding inhis views, which peculiarity on more than one occasion caused himserious trouble. As an instance of his persistence: at one time he andCaptain Scott determined to find out by actual experiment which couldhold out the longest without eating anything whatever. As both werevery firm in their determinations, the affair was watched with greatinterest. However, after two days Captain Scott surrenderedunconditionally, and it was generally admitted that Lieutenant Hunterwould have perished rather than yield. Lieutenant St. Clair Denny was an exceedingly estimable young man, anative of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, a Christian gentleman in thehighest sense of the term. My recollection of him is of one bettercalculated to inspire awe and respect than confidence. A memorableevent in his life was his marriage with Miss Caroline Hamilton, abeautiful girl of fifteen, as full of fun and lady-like mirth as hewas of dignity and reserve. I can barely recall their going in sleighson the ice to Prairie du Chien accompanied by Lieutenant Hunter andone of the ladies, to be married, that being the nearest point wherethe ceremony could be performed, for we had neither Chaplain norJustice of the Peace at the new fort. I have dim recollections of thepreparation of the trousseau by the nimble fingers of the officers'wives, of the pleasureable excitement and merry chat over the unusualevent, and of the starting off of the excursion on that long, coldride, the "good-byes, " the tears, the smiles and the blushes, and ofthe hearty welcome home of the beautiful, happy bride, and the proudbut dignified bridegroom, and I there and then yielded my fealty tothe sweet child-wife, and always loved her as a dear relative. She wasa most loving wife and mother, and some who read these records willcall to mind her lovely, interesting daughter, the wife of Mr. Corcoran, for some time Postmaster at St. Paul, and her son BrookeDenny, whose home, when the dear mother passed away, was with hissister in that city, and whose gentlemanly manners and kindness ofheart won for him the love and confidence of his associates. Ananecdote of Lieutenant Denny, characteristic of his precision ofspeech, his perfect self-control under the most excitingcircumstances, and his strict regard to military etiquette, may berelated here: At one of the frontier stations, where he was doing duty asQuartermaster, he was in his office one day during a fearful thunderstorm, accompanied with high wind and pouring rain, which threatenedto demolish the building. Every one was alarmed for its safety, andthe whole garrison was in a high state of excitement. After the stormhad subsided, a group of officers were talking it over, and LieutenantDenny, speaking of it in his peculiarly measured tones, ended hisremarks with this climax: "I was standing in the door of my officewhen the storm was at its height, and it was so terrible that I wasforced to turn and say, even in the presence of my clerk, 'Bless me!how the wind blows!'" Any member of the old Fifth Regiment can recall that remark, for itbecame a household word; but alas! who are now living of that gallantold regiment? Of all the names recorded in these annals, I know of notone left to answer to roll-call, the last survivor, General DavidHunter, having passed away at an advanced age only a few months ago. The old Mexican war decimated the regiment, which was always placed inpositions of danger, requiring brave, cool, determined men, and itwas then that Captain Martin Scott poured out his heart's blood indefense of his country. Who has not heard of him and his indomitablecourage? Some of the most pleasant recollections of my childhood areassociated with that brave, true man, who was a member of our familyfor many years, and was dearly beloved by us all. His eccentricitieswere numerous, but did no one any harm, while his fondness forhunting, his love for his dogs (of which I can clearly recall by nameeight or ten), his almost incredible skill as a marksman, and hisunvarying success as a hunter, made him the hero of our childishadmiration, and won for him the reputation of a veritable Nimrod. Iremember very clearly his habit of asking my mother what and how muchgame she would like for the table, and invariably bringing her justwhat she named. He was an admirable purveyor, and we lived on the fatof the land, for there was no delicacy in the way of wild game whichhe did not, in its proper season, bring from the forest and wild-woodto make savory meat which, like old Isaac, we all loved. He had thereputation at one time of being parsimonious, and some were inclinedto treat him coldly on that account; but in time it was found that outof his small pay he maintained his widowed mother and a lame sister intheir New England home, and that while niggard in regard to his ownpersonal wants, the dear ones at the old home were generously providedfor. So, although at first the West Point graduates were disposed totreat with contempt the Green Mountain boy who had entered the army asa volunteer in the war of 1812, and had been retained in the service, his sterling qualities and his dignified self-respect won for himfinally the regard of all who knew him. Indeed, it was found out verysoon that it would not do to slight or insult "Scott, " and he gavesome practical lessons on that point that were never forgotten. He wasa thorough-going total abstinence man, a "rara avis" in those days. Heseldom drank even of "the cup that cheers and not inebriates, " neveranything stronger; and my impression is that one great reason for hisextreme temperance was that his aim as a marksman might be perfect andunerring. He did not marry till somewhat late in life, owing to hisinability to support a wife in addition to the care of his mother andsister, although I have heard my father say to him, jokingly, "Scott, it would not cost you so much to keep a wife as it does to keep allthese dogs; she'd save more than she'd cost. Try it now, and take theword of one who knows. " The lady whom he finally chose was a MissMcCracken, of Rochester, New York, with whom he lived happily for someyears. At the battle of Cerro Gordo he was warned to be more carefulof the bullets, but he replied, "Never fear; the bullet is not runthat is to kill Martin Scott, " and almost immediately fell from hishorse pierced to the heart by a Mexican bullet. Knowing that his woundwas mortal, he, with his usual presence of mind, took from his pockethis purse, containing quite a large sum of money, and, handing it to asoldier who stood near, said: "Give that to my wife. " And the brave, true heart was still forever. Major Laurence Taliaferro was for many years a member of ourhousehold, and we all loved and honored him. He was very entertainingin conversation and full of anecdotes of Virginia, which was hisboyhood's home. His father owned many slaves, and when he, as astudent in an Eastern college, was home for vacation, he delighted toamaze the negro boys with his knowledge and excite their admiration. On one occasion he had been using some pretty big words in a speechfor their edification, branching out now and then into Greek and Latinquotations, when one of them, overcome by his young master'sproficiency, exclaimed: "Oh, Massa Laurence; you larn so much sinceyou done been to college, you clar fool. " He liked to tell this storyof himself, and admitted that the boy had good ground for his sweepingconclusion. Dear Major Taliaferro, our happy-hearted, beloved andtrusted friend, the faithful servant of the government, and humblefollower of Christ. His picture and an accompanying letter, sent mefrom his home in Bedford, Pennsylvania, when he was eighty-two yearsold, are before me, and as I look on the well-known features, I repeatfrom my heart the testimony of his biographer: "For more than twentyyears an Indian Agent, _and yet_ an honest man. " A few years ago, in an interview with Major Joseph Brown, so wellknown to the early settlers of Minnesota, he reminded me of ColonelMcNeil's short stay at "Fort St. Anthony, " as it was first called, previous to the arrival of Colonel Snelling, and of Mrs. McNeil, asister of Franklin Pierce, a most estimable woman, of whom he spoke inthe most affectionate, grateful terms, saying that her kindness tohim, a mere boy, and her wise counsels had had a beneficial influenceon his whole life. He spoke most gratefully of all the ladies at thepost, and remembered our Sabbath school, established somewhat later, with real pleasure. He went up the river with the regiment asdrummer-boy, and was always considered a faithful, well-behavedsoldier. His whole life was passed in the Northwest. He was at one timeRepresentative in the Wisconsin Legislature, and was afterwardsappointed Secretary of the First Legislative Assembly of the Territoryof Minnesota. He died only a few years ago at an advanced age. _CHAPTER IV. _ In 1821 the regiment moved into the beautiful new fort, although itwas by no means completed. The outside wall was up on three sidesonly, and a heavy guard was stationed on the fourth, not only toprevent desertions, but to keep the Indians, our only neighbors, at arespectful distance. The occupation of the new and comfortablequarters was made an occasion of great rejoicing, an event neverforgotten by those who took part in it. Then began our regular fortlife, the flag-staff was raised in front of headquarters, the starsand stripes were run up at the roll of the drum at "guard mounting"and lowered with the same accompaniment at retreat day after day, andwe children learned to love its graceful folds as it floated on thebreeze and to feel no harm could come to us under the "Star SpangledBanner. " The only white people within three hundred miles were shut within thathollow square, a community, dependent largely on each other for allthe little every-day kindnesses and amenities which make lifeenjoyable, having no regular intercourse with the civilized world, except by mail, which at first was received semi-annually, after awhile quarterly, and for many years not more frequently thanbi-monthly. For a long while it was brought from Prairie du Chien byan Indian on a pony, and there is no record of any unfaithfulness onthe part of our dusky carrier. But those who enjoy daily mails knowlittle of the excitement and tearful gratitude of those pioneers atFort Snelling when the announcement was made, "The mail has arrived. "Isolated as we were from the privileges and recreations anddistractions of town or city, we were drawn very closely together, were, in fact, like one large family, and news for one was news forall. We really "shared each other's pleasures and wept each other'stears, " and there was great rejoicing in the fort over news from"home. " I have in my possession a collection of letters from GeneralGibson, Commissary General of Subsistence, received by my father, which are interesting relics of those eventful years of privation andhardship, of which the soldier of the present day can have but a faintconception. The first few letters are directed to St. Louis, to be forwarded tothe Fifth Regiment, wherever it might be; one or two are in regard tofurnishing rations to Indians who may visit the agencies of the UnitedStates on business or otherwise, and authorizing the Commissary toissue rations to them on the requisition of the Indian agents. I findhere a letter of instruction from the War Department to GeneralGibson, and insert it, as indicating the policy of the Government inregard to the Indians: "_Sir:_ It is customary for the Government to furnish rations to the Indians who may visit the agencies of the United States upon business or otherwise, and I have to request that you will direct the officers of your department, stationed at posts in the vicinity of the agencies at Fort Wayne, Piqua, Chicago, Green Bay and Mitch-ele-mack-i-nack[A] to issue rations on the returns and requisitions of the Indian agents at those places. The requisitions in every case must be accompanied by a return of the number of Indians to be furnished, and both must be filed with the account of the officer making the issue to obtain a credit for the amount of settlement. I am, etc. , J. C. CALHOUN. _To Colonel George Gibson, Com. Gen. Of Subsistence. _" This letter is dated August 30th, 1819, before the troops had reachedthe mouth of the St. Peters, and was intended, no doubt, as a guide tothe officers in their dealing with the Indians. In the list of rations to be issued to the command, I notice thatwhisky has its place, and in turning over the leaves of thismanuscript book, I find a letter from an officer of the army, CaptainJ. H. Hook, on duty at Washington, D. C. , making various inquiries ofmy father relative to the condition of the troops, the best way ofissuing rations, the best and most desirable articles as rations, thewastage of each article, the precaution to guard against wastage, etc. One inquiry will be interesting, in the light of the present feelingon the temperance question: "_First_--Would not, in your opinion, theservice be benefitted by dispensing with the whisky ration?_Second_--Could the soldier be brought to submit cheerfully to theprivation?" This suggestion seems to have been acted upon, for I see a generalorder dated May 11th, 1820, to the effect that "the President wasauthorized to make such alterations in the component parts of therations as a due regard to health and comfort may require; and it ishereby ordered that hereafter no issues of whisky will be made to boysunder eighteen or to women attached to the army. " In the case ofsoldiers on "extra duty, " each was to receive one gill a day, and Idistinctly recall the demijohn with the gill cup hanging on its neck, and the line of "extra duty men" who came up each morning for theirperquisite. In those days there seemed nothing wrong in this; but, with the added light and wisdom of sixty years, all right-mindedpeople would now regard it as every way evil. I find a letter concerning a contract with Joseph Rolette, of Prairiedu Chien, for furnishing the troops at Fort Snelling with fresh beef. "The Commissary General directs that Mr. Rolette shall give a bondduly signed by him, that Colonel Snelling may designate and transmitit to this office, with the understanding that the Messrs. Astors, ofNew York, will unite with him in the bond. " In consequence of somemisunderstanding, owing to the extreme delay of communicating withheadquarters, the contract was cancelled, much to the disappointmentof Mr. Rolette. In examining these letters of directions with regardto supplies and the time consumed in their transmission from the seatof government, my wonder is, that the troops at this remote stationdid not starve to death while waiting for authority to obtainsupplies. Pork, flour, whisky, beans, candles and salt were sent fromSt. Louis, but, owing to the great difficulty of transportation, therewas much delay and frequent loss by depredations of the inhabitants ofthe country through which the Government wagons passed. Beef wassupplied from Prairie du Chien, or some point nearer than St. Louis. The following is a list of contract prices of articles purchased atSt. Louis: $ Cts. Mills. Pork, per pound, 7 1 Whisky, per gallon, 50 Soap, per pound, 10 Salt, per bushel, 2. 00 Beans or peas, per bushel, 1. 80 Vinegar, per gallon, 22 Corn meal, per pound, 2 2-1/2 Soon after the establishment of the fort, my father, as Commissary, was requested by General Gibson to learn by experiment if wheat couldbe raised in this part of the world, and the result proving that itwas a possibility, he was ordered to supply the garrison, at least inpart, with flour of their own raising. A letter bearing date August5th, 1823, informs him that, "having learned by a letter from ColonelSnelling to the Quartermaster General, dated April 2d, that a largequantity of wheat may be raised this summer, " the Assistant Commissaryof Subsistence at St. Louis had been directed to send to St. Peters(as the fort was often called) such tools as should be necessary tosecure the grain and manufacture the flour, adding, "if any flour ismanufactured from the wheat raised, please let me know as early aspossible, that I may deduct the quantity manufactured at the post fromthe quantity advertised to be contracted for, " and here follows thebill for the articles ordered for the purpose specified above: One pair burr mill-stones, $250. 11 337 pounds plaster of Paris, 20. 22 Two dozen sickles, at $9, 18. 00 ------- $288. 33 This, then, was the outfit for the first flour mill in that part ofthe great Northwest which was to be named "Minnesota" in later years, and to become the greatest flour manufactory in the world. Rememberingclearly the great complaint of the destruction of grain by blackbirds, I cannot think that the amount of wheat raised ever made thecommand independent of outside supplies; but, having played around theold mill many times, I know it was used for the purpose for which itwas fitted up. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote A: Mackinaw. ] _CHAPTER V. _ Soon after we took possession of the fort, a post school wasestablished and some will remember the old school house just beyondthe main entrance, which has been used for various purposes, in lateryears. It was there we children assembled day after day to learn tospell in Webster's spelling book and to read in that time-honoredvolume, of the "boy who stole the apples;" of the conceited "countrymilk maid" who spilled her milk with a toss of her head; and of thegood "dog Tray, " who fell into bad company and suffered theconsequences. Our teacher was considered very competent for his work, but was aviolent tempered man and only maintained his position a few years, butwhat we learned then, we know now, and the thorough drill we receivedeach day, turned out correct spellers, and good readers; with all theimprovements in the way of text books and methods, I do not think theresults, as far as fundamental education goes, are more satisfactorynow than then. Another of my earliest recollections is the Sunday School, establishedby Mrs. Colonel Snelling and my mother. There was no Chaplain allowedus then no Sabbath service and these Christian women felt they couldnot live or bring up their children in that way. They thereforegathered the children together on Sabbath afternoons in the basementroom of the commanding officer's quarters, and held a service, withthe aid of the Episcopal prayer book, both of them being devoutmembers of that branch of the church, and taught the little ones fromthe Bible. They had no lesson papers; no Sunday School library; noGospel songs; no musical instrument, but they had the Word of God intheir hands, and His love in their hearts, and were marvellouslyhelped in their work of love, which grew and broadened out, till ittook in the parents as well as the children, and a Bible class wasformed in which all felt a deep interest. Some who were not firmbelievers in the truths contained in the Book of books, but who cametogether just simply to pass away the time, were convinced of itstruth and found there the hope which is an "anchor to the soul bothsure and steadfast. " I can remember the deep interest which all, eventhe little ones evinced in the characters of whom we studied, how wetalked of them during the week, and chose our favorites, and how allbecame deeply attached to Moses and dwelt upon his loveliness, hisunselfishness, his patience and his great love to the rebelliouspeople under his care. And we wept as for a dear friend when we readthat "he went up from the plains of Moab into the mountain of Nebo tothe top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho" and viewed the landwhich he might never enter, and died there and was buried by no humanhands; and "no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. " The dayfollowing this sorrowful lesson, my mother in crossing the paradeground, met Captain David Hunter who looked so sad and downcast thatshe was distressed for him, and said: "What is the matter, Captain?are you sick or have you had bad news?" He replied: "Oh, no! Mrs. Clark, I am not sick or in personal trouble, but don't you feel sorrythat Moses is dead?" I have enlarged somewhat on this Sunday Schoolbecause it was somewhat peculiar, and because it was, as there aregood grounds for believing, the first Sunday School organized in thisNorthwestern region, perhaps the first Northwest of Detroit. The country around the fort was beautiful, the climate invigorating, and in spite of the inconveniences and annoyances experienced by thepioneer regiment they were not without their enjoyments andrecreations, and looking back through the years, recalling the socialgatherings at each others fireside in the winter, the various indooramusements, and the delightful rides and rambles in the summer, I feelthat ours was a happy life. But the most charming of all our recreations was a ride to "LittleFalls" now "Minnehaha. " The picture in my mind of this gem of beauty, makes the sheet of water wider and more circular than it is now, Iknow it was fresher and newer, and there was no saloon there then, nofence, no tables and benches, cut up and disfigured with names andnonsense, no noisy railroad, no hotel, it was just our dear pure"Little Falls" with its graceful ferns, its bright flowers, its birdmusic and its lovely water-fall. And while we children rambled on thebanks, and gathered pretty fragrant things fresh from their Maker'shand, listening the while to sweet sounds in the air, and to thejoyous liquid music of the laughing water, there may have been somelove-making going on in the cozy nooks and corners on the hill side orunder the green trees, for in later years, I have now and then comeupon groups of two, scattered here and there in those same places, wholooked like lovers, which recalled to my mind vividly what I had seenthere long ago. That enchanting spot, so dainty in its loveliness, ishallowed by a thousand tender associations and it seems more thancruel to allow its desecration by unholy surroundings and variousforms of vice. Standing beside it now, and remembering it in itspurity, just as God made it, my eyes are full of unshed tears, and itsmellifluous ceaseless song seems pleading to be saved from thevandalism which threatens to destroy all its sweet influences and makeit common and unclean. But as I, alone, of all who saw it in thosedays long gone by, stand mourning by its side, there dawns in my heartthe hope that the half formed purpose now talked of, for making it thecentre of a park for the delight of the two cities between which itstands, may be perfected, thus saving it from destruction and makingthis bright jewel in its setting of green, the very queen of all themany attractions of this part of our State. Surely no spot in ours orany other State offers such beauty or so many inducements for such apurpose, and coming generations will forever bless the men who shallcarry it out, thus preserving our lovely Minnehaha and the charmingsurroundings for their own delight and the enjoyment of those whoshall come after them. And we went strawberrying too, children andmothers and fathers, and young men and maidens, and often now, whenpassing through the crowded streets of our great city, I feel that Iam walking over our old strawberry patch. How sweet those berrieswere, and how delicious the fish which we caught in the pretty LakesCalhoun and Harriet, the one named for the great statesman, the otherfor Mrs. Leavenworth. We generally carried our treasures from fieldand lake to the "old Government Mill" at the "Big Falls" St. Anthonyand had our feast prepared and set in order by the miller's wife. Andthen we had games, not croquet or any of those inventions which werethen in the far future, but "hide and seek;" "blind man's buff;" "hidethe handkerchief;" "hunt the slipper, " and such old-fashioned sportswhich all enjoyed most heartily, till warned by the lengtheningshadows that it was time to go home, which we generally reached intime to see the flag lowered to the roll of the sunset drum. Writingpoetry is beyond me, but there was an inspiration in that beautifulbanner, as each day it flung out its stars and stripes over my firstand dearly loved home, which thrills my frame even now, and since theterrible days when precious blood was poured out so freely to maintainit in its proud position, it has become indeed a holy thing. May Godprotect and bless it, keep it unsullied and speed the day when itshall float over a nation whose rulers and law-givers shall layjudgment to the line and righteousness to the plummet, and foreverpurge from it everything that in any way dims the brightness orretards the progress of this beloved "land of the free and home of thebrave. " It must have been difficult to find amusements and recreations for thewinters in that fort, so completely shut away from the world, and soenvironed by snow and ice, but various devices were planned to keep upthe general cheerfulness and to ward off gloomy feelings andhomesickness. I can dimly remember the acting of plays in which thegentlemen personated all the characters and the ladies and childrenlooked on. I know the women of the plays looked very tall and angular, and there was much merriment about the costumes which were eked out tofit them. It may be that the performances were as much enjoyed as ifeverything had been more complete, for I know there was a great dealof fun and jollity at their theatricals. Among my earliest recollections is that of sitting on a low stoolbeside Mrs. Snelling and my mother while they read and studied Frenchunder the instruction of a soldier named Simon, and the memory ofthose days was revived a few months ago by the receipt of a card from"Zeller C. Simon, " now Mrs. F. L. Grisard, Vevay, Indiana, daughter ofthe old man, as a reminder of 1822 and 1823 when she and I quietlyamused ourselves while these ladies received instructions in thatlanguage. In Mrs. Ellet's "_Pioneer Women of the West_, " Mrs. Snellingalludes to this old French teacher and regrets his loss by discharge, adding that, when on the arrival of the first steamboat bringing amongother passengers, the Chevalier Count Beltrami, an Italian adventurer, she expressed this regret, he kindly offered to continue the lessonsduring his visit. He could speak French fluently, but did notunderstand English, and was therefore much gratified to find anyonewho could converse with him. In the month of May, 1823, the steamboat Virginia, 118 feet in lengthand 22 in width, arrived at the fort. "It was built by Knox and McKeeat Wheeling, Virginia, and loaded with Government stores for FortSnelling, " so writes one of the firm, Mr. Redick McKee to thesecretary of "Historical Society of Minnesota. " Its arrival was agreat event indelibly impressed upon the memory of all who were thereto witness it. _CHAPTER VI. _ A COINCIDENCE. "Backward! turn backward, O Time, in thy flight; Make me a child again, just for to-night. " Take me to my early home at Fort Snelling, and help me to live overagain that happy time, when I knew nothing of care and sorrow, andwhen the sight of the dear old flag, run up, each morning, to the rollof the drum, and the sentinel's call, each night, "All's well around, "made me feel secure and at home, even in what was then a wilderness. Many pleasant scenes, and many startling ones, come at my call. Someare more vivid than others, and perhaps the most distinct of my earlyremembrances is the arrival of the first steamboat. It had been talkedof and expected for a long time; it is hard to realize in this age ofrapid traveling how deeply interested and excited every one felt inanticipation of what was then a great event. It was to bring us intomore direct and easy communication with the world; and small wonderthat the prospect of being at the head of steamboat navigation shouldhave caused excitement and rejoicing to those who had been receivingtheir mails at intervals of _months_ instead of _hours_. To me, ofcourse, child that I was, it only meant a sight never beforewitnessed, a something heard of, and seen in pictures, but neverrealized. But even we children felt in listening to our elders, thatsomething great was about to happen. At last, one bright summer morning, while amusing myself on the piazzain the rear of the officers' quarters, there came a sound new and verystrange! All listened a moment in awe and gratitude, and then, brokeout, from many voices, "The steamboat is coming! the steamboat iscoming!" And look! there is the smoke curling gracefully through thetrees; hark! to the puffing of the steam, startling the echoes from asleep co-eval with the creation; now she rounds the point, and comesinto full view. I stand on tiptoe, but cannot see all I long to, tillLieutenant David Hunter, my special favorite, catches me up and holdsme on the balustrade; and now I clap my hands, and almost cry withdelight, for there she is, just landing, in all her pride and beauty, as if she _felt_ herself the Pioneer Steamboat, and knew she wouldbecome historic. Officers and soldiers, women and children, are hurrying down the hill;terrified Indians rush from their wigwams and look on in amazement, utterly confounded, refusing to go near what they call the "_BadSpirit_. " Greetings and congratulations warm and heartfelt are exchanged; andspeedily the mail is opened, papers and letters are distributed; allsearch eagerly for news from home, and my joy is turned into grieffor my friend Lieutenant Hunter, who learned, by the very boat whosecoming he hailed with so much pleasure, that he is fatherless. Allsympathize deeply with him; few know how closely drawn together arethe occupants of a frontier post; but the common joy, althoughdampened, was not destroyed, and civilities were tendered to thecaptain and officers of the boat, who were real gentlemen, and becamegreat favorites at the fort. They came again the next year, perhapsmore than once, and pleasant excursion parties on the boat relievedthe monotony of fort life. The steamboat was the topic of conversation for a long time. The dayof its arrival became an era from which we reckoned, and those of thefirst occupants of Fort Snelling who still survive, can scarcelyrecall a more delightful reminiscence than the arrival of the firststeamboat, in the summer of 1823. Years passed away, childhood withits lightheartedness gave way to youth, and that again to womanhood, and then came middle life with its many cares, its griefs, its joystoo, and its unnumbered mercies, with bright anticipations of ablessed rest from toil and pain, --when on one pleasant summer day in1864, I find myself, with a party of friends who have come to visitFort Snelling and its many interesting surroundings, standing, side byside with my mother, on the bastion of the fort, recalling days andscenes gone by. Leaning against the railing, and contemplating theriver, so beautiful from that height, she remarked to me: "Can youremember, my child, when the first steamboat came up this river?" Ianswered, "Yes, oh yes! most distinctly do I remember it. " And then wetalk of the event, and recall the many pleasant things connected withit, when, lo! a whistle, and the loud puffing and snorting of the ironhorse! Captain Newson, standing near and listening to ourconversation, exclaimed, pointing over to Mendota, "And there goes thefirst train of cars that ever started out from Fort Snelling!" Hushed and breathless, we gaze at the fast vanishing train, feeling, as we stand there, we two, alone, of all who saw that other greatevent, _over forty years ago_, like links connecting the buried pastwith the living present. And we would fain weep as we think of thosewho stood beside us then, now long since passed away--but living, loving friends are about us, and we will not let our sadness mar theirpleasure; so down in the depth of our hearts we hide these tenderrecollections, to indulge in when we are alone. I look long at thebeautiful river, and think, as it ripples and laughs in the sunlight, that, could our ears catch the language of its murmurings, we shouldhear: "Men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever. " _CHAPTER VII. _ ANDREW TULLY. "Oh! Malcolm, look at that little boy on the steps of our quarters;who can he be? Where did he come from?" "Oh, sister, do you think hecan be the little brother we have been praying God to send us? Let'srun home and ask mother about it. " The scene of this dialogue was the parade ground of Old Fort Snelling, in the spring of the year 1823; the two little children had just beendismissed from the fort school house, and were going home to dinner. The sun shone very brightly that day. The dinner drum was beating, thesoldiers, by companies, were in line before their quarters forroll-call, and the dear old flag floated gracefully in front ofheadquarters. I can see it all now, through my tear-dimmed eyes, andrecall the mingled feelings of joyful surprise and expectation withwhich we, the little son and daughter of Captain Clark, hastened toour home, our eyes all the while fixed on the little fair-hairedstranger, who stood on the porch of our father's quarters, the firstin the row of officers' quarters as you enter the Fort by the frontgate, and just beyond the steps leading down to the old Commissary'sstore. When we reached our goal, there stood the pretty blue-eyed boy, looking about with wonder at all he saw, and smiling at us as we cameup to him, and laid our hands on him gently, to assure ourselves thathe was real. Just inside the door stood dear mother, with a brighthappy look, enjoying our surprise, and we, with one voice, exclaimed:"Mother, who is this little boy? where did he come from? is he goingto stay with us always?" As soon as we gave her a chance to reply, shesaid: "Don't you know that every night when you say your prayers, youalways say, 'please, God, give us a little brother!' How do you knowbut God has heard your prayer, and sent you this little brother?" Wewere very quiet now, and tried to take it all in, but before we hadsucceeded to our satisfaction in fully comprehending it, our fathercame from roll-call, and taking us by the hand, said: "Come to dinnernow, mother will lead little Andrew to his place and we will tell youall about it. " And this is the story we heard on that ever to beremembered day, as we sat by our father and mother, and our heartswent out with love to the little boy beside us: "A few weeks ago, Col. Snelling heard from some hunters, who had beenfar out west, that there were two little white boys held captive by aband of Sioux; he sent out some troops, who rescued the children, andthey reached the Fort this morning with the boys; the oldest one, John, is at the Colonel's, and this is the other, 'Andrew Tully;'shall we keep him with us?" "Oh, yes! father, we want him for ourlittle brother;" and he became one of us. In time we learned fromJohn, who was a bright boy, and from the rescuing party, who had heardsome particulars, that Mr. David Tully, a Scotchman, had been livingthree years at the Selkirk settlement, where the crops had been sopoor, from various causes, notably from the grasshoppers and theravages of innumerable black birds, that a famine was threatened, andhe, becoming discouraged, had started, with his wife and children, twoboys and an infant daughter, to come to the Fort, hoping in some wayto continue his journey from there to the white settlements, and findwork to enable him to live and support his family comfortably. After traveling for many days, they were overtaken by a party ofSioux, who, returning from an unsuccessful hunt, were in a very badhumor, and attacking Mr. Tully, demanded such provisions as he had. Herefused, of course, to give up that, without which his family mustperish, and they fell upon him, soon disabled him, and seizing thelittle baby, dashed its brains out on the ice, then mortally woundedhis wife, and with a blow of his hatchet, one of the party finishedthem both. John says he remembers seeing his father, who had brokenthrough the ice, struggling to save his mother and the baby, but thatwhen they knew there was no hope left, his parents told him to takehis little brother and hide in the bushes, and to try in every way toget to the settlements. Then, with their dying breath, they besoughtGod to take care of their little boys, and their freed spirits wentbeyond the reach of pain and suffering. The little fellows obeyedthem, and ran for safety to some hazel brush near by, where, ofcourse, the Indians soon found them, but their thirst for blood beingsomewhat allayed, and their object attained, they contented themselveswith cutting off a piece of John's scalp, tearing it most brutallyfrom the quivering flesh, when the squaws from some tepees near by, hearing his heartrending screams, came to the rescue, and begged thatthey might keep the children. And there they had remained, receivingsuch care as the Indian women give their own pappooses, and makingfriends of all in the wigwam. When the troops came to the rescue, theIndian women were unwilling to give them up; they had taken anespecial fancy to Andrew, who was very fair, and of a sweet, gentledisposition. He was not quite three years old, and, of course, couldnot so well understand the dreadful loss they had sustained as John, who was two years older, and who never recovered from the shock of thefearful tragedy, and from the injury done his nervous system by thecruel scalping-knife. He remained at Col. Snelling's during his life, two or three years, and then, from an injury received from an axe, was taken with lock-jawand died. During his illness he raved of the barbarous Indians, whokilled his dear ones, begged them to spare the baby, and not hurt hismother; then he would seem to be hurrying Andrew out of the way of themurderers, and hiding him as well as he could. He suffered terriblemental agony, but he had been carefully taught by Mrs. Snelling, whomhe learned to love very dearly, and, reason returning before he died, he gave clear evidence that he loved the Savior, and felt sure that hewould take him to heaven, where his father and mother, and preciouslittle sister were awaiting him. Little Andrew grew finely and proved a perfectly healthy child. Hispreservation and rescue were so remarkable that my father gave him thename of "Marvel, " and almost always addressed him as "Andrew Marvel. "He had been our little playmate and brother for two years when ourfather obtained a furlough and took us all to New England to visit ourrelatives there, and we went by the way of New Orleans, that being theonly comfortable and continuous route to New York at that time. It wasour first journey since we children could remember, and we were alldelighted beyond measure at the thought of it. A keel-boat was fittedup nicely for the occasion, and in addition to our immediate family, including Andrew of course, we had as fellow travelers CaptainLeonard, his wife and two children, making quite a large party. Iremember distinctly our starting, the good-byes from those who stoodon shore, the slow progress of the boat as it was poled along by thecrew, and it was not without a quiver of sadness that we turned thepoint where we lost sight of the flag. We felt then that we were awayfrom home and all seemed very strange, but there was much to interestus, and we soon became accustomed to our new experiences. Theceaseless walking to and fro of the men who propelled us along was anaccompaniment to all our daily amusements and we went to sleep lulledby their regular footfalls. And so we journeyed on, day after day, until we made the whole threehundred miles and landed at Ft. Crawford--Prairie du Chien. I do notremember how many weeks we traveled thus, but I know that all thechildren on board the boat had chicken pox and recovered during thetrip. Arriving at the "Prairie, " as it was frequently called in thosedays, we were to take a steamer for St. Louis and New Orleans; butbefore our departure I remember we were all vaccinated by the surgeonat that post, whose name was Dr. James, and I know that in every casehe was very successful. Our arrival at St. Louis, the first city thechildren had ever seen, was an epoch in our lives, and I can clearlyrecall my feeling of loneliness at the utter absence of everythingmilitary. It was indeed a new world to me. I could not understand it, and felt not a little indignant that so many men passed and repassedmy father as we walked along the streets without saluting him, forwhich remissness in duty I suggested the guard-house. Arriving at NewOrleans, where we were much overpowered by the heat, we remained onlylong enough to secure passage to New York on the sailing vessel"Crawford, " and departed on our first sea voyage. We were twenty-sevendays out of sight of land, encountering a fearful storm off CapeHatteras, and the crimson light from the light-house there, like thered eye of some great monster gazing at us through the gloom, when wewere every moment expecting to be engulfed, made an ineffaceableimpression upon me. But He who is "mightier than the noise of manywaters, or the mighty waves of the sea, " delivered us from our periland brought us safely to our desired haven, where we were warmlywelcomed by dear friends and where we found ourselves famous as havingcome from the "Far West, " a part of the world of which their ideaswere most vague and imperfect. The story of our little Andrew createdintense excitement, and crowds of people came to see a child who hadso thrilling a history. Among these visitors came Mrs. Divie Bethuneand the widow of Alexander Hamilton, who were lady patronesses of anorphan asylum in the city. They urged strongly that he should beplaced under their care, planning to educate him for the ministry, andsend him out to preach the gospel of peace to the tribe of Indians whohad murdered his parents. We all objected strongly to giving him up, but the ladies at length persuaded father that they could do better byhim than one whose life was one of constant change and uncertainty, and, with a view to the boy's best interests, he yielded to theirentreaties, and our little brother passed into the hands of the orphanasylum. We remained at the East a year visiting dear friends in NewEngland and spending some time in New Haven, where a precious littlesister, born at Fort Snelling, died and was laid to rest in the buriallot of Joseph Brewster, whose wife was our father's much-loved cousin. When years afterward I went from a frontier post and became a pupil inMrs. Apthorp's seminary, in the lovely City of Elms, that little gravein the beautiful cemetery comforted me in my homesickness. In 1833 my father made a second visit to the East, and while in NewYork hunted up Andrew, whom he found apprenticed to a wagon maker, andcould not learn why the original purpose of fitting him for theministry had been abandoned. But the boy seemed doing well and washappy and content. Three years later, when our father lay on hisdeath-bed at Fort Winnebago, a letter came to him from relatives ofthe Tullys inquiring about these boys, stating that some money fromtheir mother's family was awaiting them. Father dictated a replytelling the writer all he knew of them and gave him the address ofAndrew in New York; and for years afterwards we heard nothing of him. My mother made inquiries by letter of parties whom she thought mighttell her something concerning him and used all available means to findhim, in vain, much to the regret of all our family, and we came tothe conclusion that he was dead. A few years ago, after our mother hadgone to her rest, we saw in an eastern paper the obituary of Rev. Abraham Tully, of New Jersey, in which reference was made to these"Tully boys, " stating that the only survivor of that branch of thefamily was Andrew, a carriage maker in New York city. Immediately weprocured from the New Jersey family his address and communicated withhim. A cousin of his, the Rev. David Tully, well known and beloved asthe pastor of the Presbyterian church in Jacksonville, Florida, spenta summer in Minnesota, and calling on me told me he thought Andrewmight visit this part of the country during the season. And one day, just at sun-setting, our door bell rang, and answering it in person, Isaw a gentleman whom I did not know, who looked at me withoutspeaking, for a moment, and then said: "Is this my sister Charlotte?"Like a flash it came to me, and I replied: "Is this my brotherAndrew?" And we kissed each other, we two old people who had partedwhen we were little children and had not met for more than sixtyyears. He spent some days with us and we learned that he was anactive, earnest Christian, an honored member of the Reformed DutchChurch in Harlem, New York, Rev. Mr. Smythe, pastor; that he hadmarried and had one son who grew to manhood, but had been bereft ofall and was alone in the world. He knew so little of his early life, that the story I could tell him was a revelation to him. He hadpreserved, through all his reverses and trials, his sweet, sunnytemper, and soon made friends of the whole household. We rode togetherto the old fort and I pointed out to him the very spot on which hestood on that spring morning long ago when we first saw our "BrotherAndrew. " We visited the graveyard and I showed him the grave of his brotherJohn, which having no headboard or name, could only be identified byits being next to the little stone inscribed "E. S. , " which I knewmarked the grave of Mrs. Snelling's little daughter. We searched therecords at the quartermaster's office in vain for a description of hisbrother's grave, that we might make sure of the spot, as the Tullyfamily wish to erect a monument to his memory. We walked about the fort, went to the brow of the bluff where the oldbastion formerly stood, and while strolling around the home of ourchildhood were met by General Gibbon, then in command, who, learningwho we were and what was our errand, took us to his quarters andshowed us much kindness. I told him many things of the old fort whichwere never recorded, pointed out to him where the stones in the frontwall of headquarters had been riven by lightning when I was a littlegirl, and our pleasant visit rounded up with a ride in his carriage tocall on General Terry and other officers, who all seemed interested tosee us; relics, as it were, of the times before their day. Our courteous escort drove with us to the site of the old CampColdwater, and we drank from a tin cup of the clear spring which nowsupplies the garrison with water, as we had done more than half acentury before. Driving back to the fort just as the bugle sounded for"orderly call, " the General, in tender consideration of my deafness, called the bugler, and bade him sound it again by the side of thecarriage. To hear is to obey, and the musician, ignorant of the reasonfor the command, repeated the clear, ringing call, where my dull earscould take it all in. No words can describe my sensations, as, withAndrew Tully beside me, I listened with bated breath to the familiarnotes unheard for years, and, with eyes brimming with tears, I couldonly say, "Oh, General, I thank you; this makes me feel that I musthear my mother's voice calling me home to the dear old quarters overthere, 'to get ready for dinner. '" And then, as our carriage drove up, and we thanked our noble host for his kind and considerate attentionsto us, he said, "I have to thank you for more information about FortSnelling than ever I had before. " And so, past the old sutler's store, the guard house and the vine-clad tower, we drove away very silentlyfrom our early home, and after an hour's resting at Minnehaha, returned to Minneapolis, talking by the way of the strange experiencesof our lives, and the wonderful way in which God had brought ustogether again in our old age. Andrew made a visit to Winnipeg in search of some one who had knownhis parents, and there he found an old man named Macbeth, who hadblown the bellows in his father's shop, which stood just in one cornerof what is now the city of Winnipeg. He told him how the friends thereopposed his father's leaving the settlement when he did, as he hadremained there three years, and they felt the times would be bettersoon; but he had made up his mind that he could improve his conditionby seeking a more congenial home, and they could not dissuade him. Healso told him that, from the accounts of the Indians and others, itwas generally believed that the scene of his parents' murder must havebeen where Grand Forks now stands. He made some inquiries as to thepossibility of recovering anything on his father's claim, but couldlearn nothing encouraging. He hopes to visit Minnesota again; meantimewe correspond regularly, and he takes a deep interest in the growthand development of the great Northwest, with which his early life wasso singularly identified. He is still in the business for which he wastrained, and, by patient industry and skilled workmanship, has reachedthe summit, and receives satisfactory returns for his labor; and so, although his life has not been without its trials, yet an overrulingProvidence has dealt graciously with the little fair haired orphan boywho hid from the savages in the hazel copse so many years ago. We returned home from our eastern trip by the way of the great lakes, as the route was called in those days; and although we left dearfriends and many pleasant things behind us, we were rejoiced to beonce more in the fort, in the midst of military surroundings. Soon after our return, my father and Major Garland obtained permissionto build more commodious quarters outside the walls, and the resultwas the erection of the two stone cottages nearly opposite the oldIndian Agency, a few rods from the fort. The grounds about them wereimproved and beautified with flowers and shrubs, and the change wasvery beneficial and agreeable to us all. Here, I remember, we hadregular instruction in the fundamental English branches from ourfather, whose great anxiety was that we might suffer for want of goodschools; and so great was his zeal and thoroughness in this direction, that in after years, when we had greater advantages, it was found thatwe were fully up to the grade of children of our age who had been toschool all their lives. The two families became much attached to each other, and when MajorGarland was ordered elsewhere, we felt the separation keenly. We havenever met since that time. One of the Major's daughters, my earlyfriend and playmate, married General Longstreet, and the time camewhen our husband's stood on opposite sides in the lamentable civilwar. Thank God, that is all over now, and should we ever meet again, we could talk lovingly of the old times when, as children, we playedtogether under one flag, in happy unconsciousness of the trials andsorrows that lay before us. _CHAPTER VIII. _ A WOLF STORY. Among the recreations which relieved the tedium of garrison life, wasan occasional wolf chase. I am too tender hearted to call it anamusement, but it was exceedingly exciting. The animal having beencaught in a box-trap, and not maimed or crippled in any way, was firstmuzzled, and then let loose for a race for its life over the prairies, with hounds and hunters in full pursuit. All the blue coats and brassbuttons of the hunters did not make that a brave thing to do, but thewolves were great nuisances, and it was long before the days of Bergh. On one of these occasions, the wolf was led to the starting point bysome soldiers to be prepared for the chase, but none of them reallyliked the idea of taking hold of his fierce looking jaws while themuzzling process was going on. My brother, Malcolm, a boy of seven oreight, and already an apt pupil of Martin Scott, stepped up andgrasping the animal's snout with his little hands, called out: "Muzzlehim now, I'll hold him, " and they did it. Those who know how the landlies, and how well adapted it was for such a chase, can readilyimagine that for those who like such sport, it must have been veryenjoyable, and a great relief from the monotony of life in a frontierfort. During the winter of '25 and '26, the wolves were unusuallytroublesome, and came every night to the barns and out-houses, carrying off any small stock they could find. We were occupying thestone cottage at that time, and my brother and I were much interestedin the case of some chickens and other pets which we were allowed tocall ours. Of course we grieved over the result of these nightly raids, and, finally, thought we would try and catch some of the marauders; soprocuring a steel-trap, we had a dead carcass of some animal hauled tothe foot of our garden, and began our work in real earnest. Oursuccess was far beyond our hopes, and it was our custom to rise everymorning at reveille, dress ourselves hastily and run down to look atthe trap, which was rarely without an occupant. One morning, to ourastonishment, the trap was gone, but the blood on the snow, and thepeculiar track leading toward the woods, satisfied us that a wolf wasin that trap somewhere between the fort and the "Little Falls. " Hopingto find him near home, we started in pursuit, without any protectionfrom the cold, which was intense, but the sun shone so brightly thatwe did not think of the cold; our one idea was--the wolf, and how tocatch him. I was bare-headed and bare-handed; my brother, boy-like, had seized his cap and mittens as he left the house, and was betteroff than I. After traveling on, and on, not in the beaten path, butwherever that track led us, we, of course, became cold and verytired, but still could not think of giving up our search, and my dear, brave brother insisted on my wearing his cap and mittens, saying, "boys can stand the cold better than girls. " We must have gone morethan a mile when our consciences, aided by the cold, began to warn usthat we were doing wrong, that our parents would be anxious about us, and we ought to go back, but how could we give up the pleasure oftaking that wolf back in triumph, for the track assured us we shouldfind him crippled and fast to the trap, and we thought how pleasedCaptain Scott would be to see us there with our prisoner as he cameout to breakfast. Looking back over the long years, I can clearlyremember that that thought gave me courage, and enabled me to hold outso long. But, as we talked the matter over, setting duty againstinclination, and unable to decide, there appeared to us what may havebeen an angel in disguise; to us it was an Indian boy in a blanket, with his bow and quiver, emerging from the bushes very near"Minnehaha, " and thus my brother accosted him: "How! Nitchie. " After afriendly reply to this invariable salutation, Malcolm told him in theIndian language, which was then as familiar to us as our mothertongue, why we were there and what we wanted, offering him a loaf ofbread and piece of pork if he would find our wolf and bring him to ourdoor immediately. The lad gladly closed with the offer, took the trailand started after him, while we turned our faces homeward. And now, the excitement of expectancy being over, we began to have seriousmisgivings as to the propriety of having gone so far from home withoutthe knowledge of our parents, and the wind, which blew keenly in ourfaces, sided with our consciences, and convinced us we had much betterhave either staid at home or prepared ourselves with a permit and goodwarm wrappings. It all comes back to me so plainly that I can almostfeel the pinchings of the cold and the torment of a guilty conscienceas I write, and I feel a real pity for these two little children asthey trudge along over the prairie, so troubled and so cold. My dearbrother being older than I, and the chief party interested, generouslytook most of the blame to himself, and comforted me as well as hecould, running backwards in front of me to shelter me from the wind, and assuring me he would tell father all about it, and he wouldforgive us. I have carried in my heart of hearts for sixty years theimage of that beautiful, bright-eyed, unselfish brother; and when, notmany years ago, the terrible news came to me that treacherous handshad taken his precious life, like one of old I cried in my anguish, "Oh, Malcolm! my brother, would to God that I had died for thee, mybrother, oh, my brother!" Just as we reached our garden fence we heardthe familiar breakfast drum, and saw our father and Captain Scottwalking in a somewhat excited manner, back and forth, and discussingsomething, we could not hear what. We afterwards learned it was ourconduct, and that while father felt that we should at least beseverely reprimanded, our friend, the Captain, made him promise hewould say nothing in the way of reproof, until he had drunk hiscoffee. In consequence of this we were simply saluted kindly, but notwarmly, and we followed the gentlemen to the breakfast-room, where arousing fire in the great fireplace, and a most appetizing breakfastawaited us, which our long tramp in the bitter morning air hadprepared us to enjoy most thoroughly, notwithstanding the mentaldisturbance which could not be allayed, until confession had been madeand forgiveness granted. Just as our meal was ending, a soldierentered the room, and said: "Malcolm, there is an Indian boy here witha wolf, who wants to see you. " This announcement brought all to theirfeet, and every one rushed out so see the sight, and there, with hisfoot fast in our trap, lay a large timber-wolf, exhausted with painand fatigue. Captain Scott examining him carefully, pronounced him thevery one they had tried in vain to capture, and he congratulated thelittle boy and girl who had succeeded so fully where older ones hadfailed. That was a proud moment in our lives, but until we had toldour parents how sorry we were to have grieved and distressed them, andhad obtained full pardon, sealed with a loving kiss from each, wecould not wholly enjoy it. Then we gave our Indian a royal breakfast, and his promised reward beside, and the wolf was taken away and putout of his misery, while beside the comfortable fireside we told allabout our morning walk, from reveille to breakfast-drum. After this Captain Scott took me to the Sutler's store, and made meselect for myself a handsome dress, as a present from him, to a bravelittle girl, as he was pleased to call me, and he took me in hissleigh, drawn by one of his beautiful horses (I think his name was"Telegraph"), back to my mother, telling her, not many little girls ofseven years old could go out before breakfast on a cold morning, andchase a wolf so successfully. To my brother he gave a pretty pony, which was a never-ending source of joy to him, and which, under theskillful training of the mighty hunter, he learned to ride fearlesslyand most gracefully. The story of this, my first and last wolf hunt, has entertainedchildren and grandchildren, not only mine, but many others, and hasbeen repeated so often that it has been learned by heart, so that if, in telling it, I have sometimes varied the phraseology, I have beenpromptly corrected and set right. If any of those, once my littlehearers, should read this written history, it may carry them back tothe days when life was new and fresh, and when adventures of any kindseemed greater and more important than they do now. "God bless them, every one. " _CHAPTER IX. _ RED RIVER OR SELKIRK SETTLEMENT. The story of the early days of Minnesota would be incomplete without amore detailed account of the Red River or Selkirk settlement than theallusions made to it in the history of the Tully boys, and turning to"Harpers Monthly" of December 1878, I find a most satisfactory andinteresting history of the enterprise, by General Chetlain of Chicago, who is a descendant of one of the settlers and is so well andfavorably known in the Northwest as to need no introduction from me. After speaking of the disastrous effect of the Napoleonic wars on thesocial relations of Europe he alludes to the extreme suffering inCentral Europe, and in Switzerland particularly, owing to a failure ofcrops from excessive rains in 1816, and says: "the people wearied ofstruggles which resulted in their impoverishment, listened eagerly tothe story of a peaceful and more prosperous country beyond the sea. " Afew years earlier Thomas Dundas, Earl of Selkirk, a distinguishednobleman of great wealth had purchased from the Hudson Bay Company alarge tract of land in British America, extending from the Lake of theWoods and the Winnipeg River eastward for nearly two hundred miles, and from Lakes Winnipeg and Manitoba to the United States boundary, part of which is now embraced in the province of Manitoba and in whichare the fertile lands bordering on the Red and Assinniboine Rivers. Itformed a part of "Rupert Land, " named in honor of Prince Rupert orRobert of Bavaria, a cousin of King Charles II of England and one ofthe founders and chief managers of the "Hudson Bay Company. " In theyear 1811 he had succeeded in planting a large colony of Presbyteriansfrom the North of Scotland on the Red River, near its junction withthe Assinniboine; this was followed four years later by another butsmaller colony from the same section of Scotland. In consequence ofthe stubborn competition and the bitter dissensions between the HudsonBay Company and the Northwest Company of Montreal, these werecompelled to abandon their new homes, nearly all of them removing toLower Canada. This Scotch settlement having proved almost a totalfailure Lord Selkirk turned his attention to the Swiss, for whom heentertained a great regard. By glowing accounts of the country, and bythe offer of great inducements, which were endorsed by the Britishgovernment whose policy it was to favor these emigration schemes, hesucceeded in persuading many young and middle aged men to emigrate tothis new world. The colony numbered two hundred persons, nearlythree-fourths of whom were French or of French origin, they wereProtestants and belonged to the Lutheran church. Some of the familieswere descendants of the Hugenots of Eastern France, all were healthyand robust, well fitted for labor in a new country; most of them wereliberally educated and possessed of considerable means. Among the moreprominent were Monier and Rindesbacher, Dr. Ostertag, Chetlain andDescombes, Schirmer, afterwards a leading jeweller at Galena, Illinois, Quinche and Langet. In May 1821, they assembled at a smallvillage on the Rhine near Basle and in two large flat-boats or barges, floated down the Rhine, reaching a point near Rotterdam where astaunch ship, the "Lord Wellington" was in readiness to take them totheir new home towards the setting sun. Their course lay North ofGreat Britain and just South of Greenland to Hudson Strait. After atedious and most uncomfortable journey they arrived at Hudson Strait, and after a hard journey of four months they landed at Fort York. Embarking in batteaux they ascended the Nelson River, and at the endof twenty days reached Lake Winnipeg, and after encountering allmanner of discouragements arrived at the mouth of the Red River, onlyto learn that the locusts or grasshoppers had been before them, andhad literally destroyed all the crops. With heavy hearts theyproceeded up the river thirty-five miles to Fort Douglas, near thesite of the present Fort Garey, then the principal trading post of theHudson Bay Company. Governor Alexander McDowell and the other officersof the company welcomed them cordially and did what was in theirpower, to supply their wants and make them comfortable, but they wereby no means able to furnish them with supplies for the coming winter, and as it was terribly severe there was untold suffering among them. But by scattering to different points and struggling bravely againstgreat difficulties, they managed to exist and some of them in timemade permanent homes for themselves, while others feeling they couldnot content themselves in what had impressed them as an inhospitablecountry, left the settlement as opportunity offered and came nearercivilization. As early as 1821, some who had put themselves under theprotection of a party of armed drovers, on their return to the States, having taken some cattle to the settlers, arrived at Fort Snelling andwere kindly cared for by Colonel Josiah Snelling who consented to letthem remain at the fort during the winter. The next spring theysettled on the military reservation near the fort and made homes forthemselves. I well remember my mother's descriptions of theseemigrants as they arrived, so nearly famished, that the surgeon wasobliged to restrict the amount of provisions furnished them lest theymight eat themselves to death. In the spring of 1823, thirteen more of the colonists started to go toMissouri, of which country they had heard glowing accounts. They madethe journey as far as Lake Traverse, the headwaters of the St. Peter'sriver, four hundred miles, in Red River carts, which need nodescription here; where they remained long enough to make canoes, ordugouts, of the cottonwood trees abundant there, when they began thedescent of the river, and after perils by land and by water, andperils by savages, who were very hostile to them, they reached "St. Anthony" in September, and were warmly welcomed by the friends who hadpreceded them two years before. After a few weeks rest, our Colonelfurnished them with two small keel-boats and supplies for theirjourney, and they went on their way comforted and encouraged. Butprobably from the effects of the fatigue and hardships of their longand wearisome journey, and from the malarial influences, at that timeprevalent on the river, several sickened, and Mr. Monier, the seniorof the party, and his daughter, died and were buried near Prairie duChien. Mr. Chetlain also became so ill that he and his family remainedat Rock Island until his recovery, when he joined his friends at St. Louis, but finally settled at La Pointe, on Fever River, where nowstands the city of Galena, Illinois. In the spring of 1826, owing to the great rise of water in theMississippi and its tributaries, and in the Red and Assinniboinerivers, caused by the unusual deep snow of the preceding winter, whichhad melted with warm and heavy rains, the losses sustained by thesettlers at La Fourche were so heavy that no attempt was made torepair them, and nearly all the French settlers there becamethoroughly discouraged and left their home. Over the same route theirfriends had traveled three years before they came to Fort Snelling, and nearly all took passage in a small steamboat for the lead mines atand near La Pointe, Illinois. I remember well when this party arrived. One of them, a very prettygirl named Elise, was employed in our family as a nurse for our babysister, and remained with us some time. General Chetlaine closes his very interesting article thus: "Thedescendants of these colonists are numerous, and are found scatteredthroughout the Northwest, the greater part being in the region of thelead mines. Most of them are thrifty farmers and stock breeders. A fewhave entered the professions and trade. All, as far as is known, aretemperate, industrious, and law-abiding citizens. " _CHAPTER X. _ RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. Like the old man in Dickens' "Child's Story, " "I am alwaysremembering; come and remember with me. " I close my eyes and recall anevening some sixty years ago, when in one of the stone cottages nearFort Snelling, which was our home at that time, a pleasant company ofofficers and their families were spending a social evening with myparents. The doors were thrown open, for the weather was warm, and one of theofficers, Captain Cruger, was walking on the piazza, when we were allstartled by the sound of rapid firing near us. The Captain rushed intothe house, much agitated, exclaiming: "That bullet almost grazed myear!" What could it mean? Were the Indians surrounding us? Soon theloud yells and shrieks from the Indian camp near our house made itevident that the treaty of peace made that afternoon between the Siouxand Chippewas had ended, as all those treaties did, in treachery andbloodshed. The principal men of the two nations had met at the IndianAgency, and in the presence of Major Taliaferro, their "White Father, "had made a solemn treaty of peace. In the evening, at the wigwam ofthe Chippewa chief, they had ratified this treaty by smoking the pipeof peace together, and then, before the smoke of the emblematic pipehad cleared away, the treacherous Sioux had gone out and deliberatelyfired into the wigwam, killing and wounding several of theunsuspecting inmates. The Chippewas, of course, returned the fire, andthis was what had startled us all and broken up the pleasant littlegathering at my father's house. The Chippewas, with their wounded, sought refuge and protection within the walls of the fort, commandedat that time by Colonel Snelling. They were kindly cared for, and thewounded were tenderly nursed in our hospital. One, a little girl, daughter of the chief, excited much sympathy, and I cannot forget theinterest I felt in her, for she was but a year or two older thanmyself, and it seemed to me so cruel to ruthlessly put out her younglife. I remember the ladies of the fort were very kind and tender toher, and, since I have had little girls of my own, I know why. Shelingered but a few days, in great agony, and then God took her out ofher pain to that land where the poor little wandering, wounded childshould know sin or suffering no more. Meanwhile our prompt and efficient Colonel demanded of the Sioux themurderers, and in a very few days a body of Sioux were seen, as wesupposed to deliver up the criminals. Two companies of soldiers weresent to meet them and receive the murderers at their hands. Strange tosay, although they had the men, they refused to give them up, whenour interpreter (I cannot recall his name) stepped out from among oursoldiers, and said: "If you do not yield up these men peaceably, then, as many leaves as there are on these trees, as many blades of grass asyou see beneath your feet, so many white men will come upon you, burnyour villages and destroy your nation. " A few moments' consideration, a few hurried words of consultation, andthe guilty men were handed over to our troops. The tribe followed asthey were taken into the fort, and, making a small fire within thewalls, the condemned men marched round and round it, singing theirdeath songs, and then were given up to be put in irons and held incustody until time should determine how many lives should pay theforfeit, for it is well known that Indian revenge is literally a lifefor a life, and the Colonel had decided to give them into the hands ofthe injured tribe, to be punished according to their own customs. Some weeks passed, and it was found that five lives were to be paidfor in kind. A council of Chippewas decided that the five selectedfrom the prisoners should run the gauntlet, and it was approved. Andnow, back over the lapse of many years I pass, and seem to be a childagain, standing beside my only brother, at the back door of myfather's house. The day is beautiful; the sun is so bright; the grassso green, all nature so smiling, it is hard to realize what is goingon over yonder, by the graveyard, in that crowd of men and women; forthere are gathered together the Chippewas, old and young men, womenand children, who have come out to witness or take part in this act ofretributive justice. There are blue coats, too, and various badges ofour U. S. Uniform; for it is necessary to hold some restraint overthese red men, or there may be wholesale murder; and borne on theshoulders of his young men, we see the form of the wounded, dyingchief, regarding all with calm satisfaction, and no doubt happy in thethought that his death, now so near, will not go unavenged. And therestand the young braves who have been selected as the executioners;their rifles are loaded, the locks carefully examined, and all isready when the word shall be given. There, too, under guard, are thefive doomed men, who are to pay the forfeit for the five lives sowantonly and treacherously taken. Away off, I can not tell how many rods, but it seemed to us children along _run_, are stationed the Sioux tribe; and that is the goal forwhich the wretched men must run for their lives. And now, all seems ready; the bolts and chains are knocked off, andthe captives are set free. At a word, one of them starts; the rifles, with unerring aim, are fired, and under cover of the smoke a man fallsdead. They reload; the word is given, and another starts, with abound, for _home_; but, ah! the aim of those clear-sighted, blood-thirsty men is too deadly; and so, one after another, till fourare down. And then the last, "Little Six", whom, at a distance, we childrenreadily recognize from his commanding height and graceful form; he isour friend, and we hope he will get _home_. He starts; they fire; thesmoke clears away, and still he is running. We clap our hands and say, "He will get home!" but, another volley, and our favorite, almost atthe goal, springs into the air and comes down--dead! I cover my face, and shed tears of real sorrow for our friend. And now follows a scene that beggars description. The bodies, all warmand limp, are dragged to the brow of the hill. Men, who at the sightof blood become fiends, tear off the scalps, and hand them to thechief, who hangs them around his neck. Women and children withtomahawks and knives, cut deep gashes in the poor dead bodies, andscooping up the hot blood with their hands, eagerly drink it. Then, grown frantic, they dance and yell, and sing their horrid scalp-songs, recounting deeds of valor on the part of their brave men, and tellingof the Sioux scalps taken in former battles, until, at last, tired andsatiated with their ghoul-like feast, they leave the mutilated bodiesfestering in the sun. At nightfall they are thrown over the bluff intothe river, and my brother and myself, awe-struck and quiet, tracetheir hideous voyage down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Welie awake at night talking of the dreadful thing we have seen; and wetry to imagine what the people of New Orleans will think when theysee those ghastly up-turned faces; and we talk with quivering lips andtearful eyes of "Little Six, " and the many kind things he has done forus--the bows and arrows, the mocauks of sugar, the pretty beadedmoccasins he has given us; and we wish, oh! we wish he could have runfaster, or that the Chippewa rifles had missed fire. And we sleep anddream of scalps, and rifles, and war-whoops, and frightful yells, andwake wishing it had all been a dream. Next day the chief sat up in bed, painted himself for death, sang hisdeath song, and, with those five fresh, bloody scalps about his neck, lay down and died calmly and peacefully in the comfortable hope, nodoubt, of a welcome in the "happy hunting grounds, " prepared by the"Good Spirit" for all those Indians who are faithful to their friends, and avenge themselves upon their foes. A few years ago, I told this story to another "Little Six. " "OldShakopee, " as he lay with gyves upon his legs, in our guard house atFort Snelling, awaiting execution for almost numberless cold-bloodedmurders, perpetrated during the dreadful massacre of '62. Heremembered it all, and his wicked old face lighted up with joy as hetold me he was the son of that "Little Six" who made so brave a runfor his life, and he showed as much pride and pleasure in listening tothe story of his father's treacherous conduct, as the children of ourgreat generals will do some day, when they read or hear of deeds ofbravery or daring that their fathers have done. _CHAPTER XI. _ The incident recorded in the preceding chapter occurred in June, 1827, and in the autumn of the same year two companies of our command wereordered to Prairie du Chien to strengthen the garrison there, inanticipation of trouble with the Indians. One of these was Company"C", commanded by our father; the other company was in command ofCaptain Scott. We had become so attached to a home so filled with peculiar and verytender associations that our hearts were sad indeed when we bade "goodbye" to all, and from the deck of the steamer took our last look atthe beloved fort where we had lived so many years. In later years whenpassing the spot where we bade farewell to the flag which floated overheadquarters on that bright morning long ago, I involuntarily look upat the beautiful banner still waving there, and a tender, reverentialawe steals over me, as when standing by the grave of a friend longburied. We had hardly been a year at Fort Crawford when my father was detailedon recruiting service, and ordered to Nashville, Tennessee. This wasin 1828, memorable as the year of the presidential campaign whichresulted in the election to that high office of General AndrewJackson. When our friend Mr. Parton was writing his "Life ofJackson, " I gave him, at his request, my impressions as a child, ofthe great man, with whom we were daily and intimately associated, andnow transfer those impressions from that great work, "Parton's Life ofJackson, " to the pages of this unpretentious record of past times. At the time referred to, our family boarded at the "Nashville Inn, "kept by a Mr. Edmonson, the home of all the military officers whomduty or pleasure called to Nashville. It had also been for a long timethe stopping place of General Jackson and his wife, whenever they lefttheir beloved "Hermitage" for a temporary sojourn in the city. Eatingat the same table with persons who attracted so much attention, andmeeting them familiarly in the public and private sitting rooms of thehotel, I of course felt well acquainted with them, and myrecollections of them are very vivid even now. The General'sappearance has been so often and correctly described that it wouldseem almost unnecessary to touch upon it here; but it will do no harmto give my impressions of him. Picture to yourself a military-looking man, above the ordinary height, dressed plainly, but with great neatness; dignified and grave--I hadalmost said stern, but always courteous and affable; with keen, searching eyes, iron-gray hair standing stiffly up from an expansiveforehead; a face somewhat furrowed by care and time, and expressive ofdeep thought and active intellect, and you have before you the GeneralJackson who has lived in my memory from my childhood. Side by sidewith him stands a coarse-looking, stout little old woman, whom youmight easily mistake for his washerwoman, were it not for the markedattention he pays her, and the love and admiration she manifests forhim. Her eyes are bright, and express great kindness of heart; herface is rather broad, her features plain, her complexion so dark asalmost to suggest a mingling of races in that climate where suchthings sometimes occur. But withal, her face is so good natured andmotherly, that you immediately feel at ease with her, however shy youmay be of the stately person by her side. Her figure is rather full, but loosely and carelessly dressed, with no regard to the fashions ofthe day, so that, when she is seated, she seems to settle intoherself, in a manner that is neither graceful nor elegant. I have seensuch forms since, and have thought I should like to experiment uponthem with French corsets, to see what they would look like if theywere gathered into some permanent shape. This is Mrs. Jackson. I haveheard my mother say, she could imagine that in her early youth, at thetime the General yielded to her fascinations, she may have been abright, sparkling brunette, perhaps may have even passed for a beauty;but being without any culture, and out of the way of refininginfluences, she was at the time we knew her, such as I have described. Their affection for each other was of the tenderest kind. The Generalalways treated her as if she was his pride and glory, and words canfaintly describe her devotion to him. The "Nashville Inn" was at thistime filled with celebrities, nearly all warm supporters of theGeneral. The Stokes family, of North Carolina, were there, particularfriends of his; the Blackburns, and many other old families, whosenames have escaped my memory. I well recollect to what disadvantageMrs. Jackson appeared, with her dowdyfied figure, her inelegantconversation, and her total want of refinement, in the midst of thisbevy of highly-cultivated, aristocratic women; and I recall verydistinctly how the ladies of the Jackson party hovered near her at alltimes, apparently to save her from saying or doing anything whichmight do discredit to their idol. With all her disadvantages inexternals, I know she was really beloved. She was a truly good woman, the very soul of benevolence and kindness, and one almost overlookedher deficiencies in the knowledge of her intrinsic worth and her realgoodness of heart. With a different husband, and under differentcircumstances, she might have appeared to greater advantage, but therecould not be a more striking contrast than was manifest in thisdignified, grand-looking man and this plain, common-looking littlewoman. And the strangest of it all was, the General did not seem atall aware of it. She was his ideal of every thing that was good, andloving, and true, and, utterly unconscious of any externaldeficiencies, he yielded her the entire homage of his own brave, loyalheart. My father visited them more than once at the Hermitage. It wascustomary for the officers of the army to do this, as a mark ofrespect to the General, and they frequently remained at theirhospitable mansion several days at a time. The latch-string was alwaysout, and all who visited them were made welcome, and felt themselvesat home. An anecdote which my father told us, characteristic of Mrs. Jackson, impressed my young mind very forcibly. After the evening meal at theHermitage, as he and some other officers were seated with the worthycouple by their ample fireplace, Mrs. Jackson, as was her favoritecustom, lighted her pipe, and having taken a whiff or two, handed itto my father, saying, "Honey, won't you take a smoke?" The enthusiasm of the people of Nashville for their favorite has beendescanted upon, years ago. I remember well the extravagantdemonstrations of it, especially after the result of the election wasknown. I walked the streets with my father the night of theilluminations and saw but two houses not lighted up, and these wereboth mobbed. One was the mansion of Judge McNairy, who was once afriend of Jackson, but for some reason became opposed to him, and atthat time was one of the very few Whigs in Nashville. On thattriumphant night the band played the hymn familiar to all, beginning:"Blow ye the trumpet blow, " and ending: "The year of Jubilee is come, return ye ransomed people home. " This certainly looked like deifyingthe man they delighted to honor, and I remember it seemed very wickedto me. When the old man finally started for Washington, a crowd ofladies were assembled on the piazza of the hotel, overlooking theCumberland river to "see the conquering hero go. " I mingled with themand distinctly remember hearing one lady say she had had a good-byekiss from the General, and she should not wash it off for a month. Oh!what a noise there was! A parrot, which had been brought up ademocrat, was "hurrahing for Jackson, " and the clapping of hands, theshouting, and waving of handkerchiefs have seldom been equalled. Whenthe steamboat passed out of sight, and all realized that he was reallygone, the city seemed to subside and settle down, as if the object ofits being was accomplished. But the sad part of my remembrances, is the death of Mrs. Jackson. Early one bright pleasant morning my father was putting on his uniformto go with the other officers then in the city, to the Hermitage toescort the President-elect to Nashville. Before he had completed histoilet a black man left at the door a hand-bill announcing Mrs. Jackson's death, and requesting the officers to come to the Hermitageat a time specified, with the usual badges of mourning, to attend herfuneral. She had died very suddenly at night, without any apparentdisease, it being very generally supposed that her death wasoccasioned by excess of joy at her husband's election. When it wasdiscovered that she was dead, the grief-stricken husband could not beprevailed upon to part with her body, but held it tightly in his armsuntil almost forced from his embrace. This news caused great commotion. Many ladies went out from the cityto superintend the funeral arrangements, and displayed more zeal thanjudgment by arraying the body in white satin, with kid gloves andslippers. Pearl ear-rings and necklace were likewise placed upon it;but, at the suggestion of some whose good sense had not entirelyforsaken them, I believe, these ornaments were removed. The day of thefuneral, proving damp and drizzly, the walk from the house to thegrave was thickly laid with cotton for the procession to pass over. Notwithstanding the grief displayed by the friends of this really goodand noble woman, on account of her sudden death, it was supposed bymany, that after all, they felt it a relief; for it had been a matterof great anxiety how she would appear as mistress of the White House, especially as some of her warm, but injudicious friends, had selectedand prepared an outfit for the occasion, more suitable for a young andblooming bride than for a homely, withered looking old woman. During the war of the rebellion, as the Fifth Division of the Army ofthe Cumberland was marching from Gallatin to camp near Nashville, theGeneral in command arranged that myself and daughter, who werevisiting the army and keeping with them from day to day, should callat the Hermitage, as the troops passed near. An escort was furnishedus, and we turned off in our ambulance at the nearest point. We soonreached the great gate, and, passing up the avenue of dark, sombreevergreens, to the broad piazza of the historic old mansion, werereceived by the hostess, the wife of General Jackson's adopted son. Our reception, while not uncivil, was certainly frigid, and we hadexpected nothing more cordial from those who called us their enemies. After a short, constrained conversation, we were shown the General'sroom, and some portraits of distinguished people on the walls, andwere then conducted to the tomb at the foot of the garden, wherehusband and wife lie side by side under a canopy supported by marblepillars and shaded by magnolia trees, whose rich, glossy leaves androyal white blossoms made the sacred spot a lovely resting place forthe old man and his beloved Rachel. On the tablet, which covers herremains, we read the following inscription, prepared by her husband: "Here lie the remains of Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of PresidentJackson, who died the twenty-second of December, 1828, aged sixty-one. Her face was fair; her person, pleasing; her temper, amiable; herheart, kind; she delighted in relieving the wants of her fellowcreatures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most liberal andunpretending methods. To the poor, she was a benefactor; to the rich, an example; to the wretched, a comforter, to the prosperous, anornament; her piety went hand in hand with her benevolence; and shethanked her Creator for being permitted to do good. A being so gentleand so virtuous, slander might wound but could not dishonor. Evendeath, when he tore her from the arms of her husband, could buttransport her to the bosom of her God. " At his own special request, the tablet which marks the spot where herests, has only this simple record: "GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON. _Born on the 15th of March, 1767;_ _Died on the 8th of June, 1845. _" Among the notable persons whom we frequently met during the year ofour sojourn in Nashville, was Samuel Houston, since so thoroughlyidentified with the early history of Texas. He was at that time movingin gay society, was called an elegant gentleman, was very fine lookingand very vain of his personal appearance; but domestic troublescompletely changed his whole life, and leaving his wife and family, heabjured the world and went into exile, as he termed it. While we werein Smithland, Kentucky, to which place our father had been orderedfrom Nashville, he stopped with us on his way to the wilderness, andexcited our childish admiration by his fanciful hunter's garb and theromance which surrounded him. I remember, too, that he begged a finegreyhound and a pointer from my brother, who gave them up, but notwithout a great struggle with himself, for he loved them, --littlethinking then, dear boy, that this man, fantastically clad inbuckskin, would one day, as President of Texas, repay him amply bydelivering him from a great peril. I record here a reminiscence of Smithland which stamps that littletown, and its surroundings, indelibly upon my memory. One day, as mybrother and I were at play in front of the recruiting office, whichwas situated on the one long street, near the river bank, a steamboat, with its flag flying, came down the Ohio and rounded to at the wharf. As it made the turn, we noticed that the deck was crowded withnegroes, and we heard them singing some of their camp meeting hymns ina way to touch all hearts. The strain was in a minor key, and, as thepoor creatures swayed their bodies back and forth and clapped theirhands at intervals, we were strangely moved; and when, the landingbeing effected, and the gang-plank arranged, they came off, _chainedin pairs_, and were marched, still singing, to a shed prepared forthem, we could not keep back the tears. The overseer, a great strongman, cracking his "blacksnake" from time to time, to enforceauthority, excited our strong indignation. All this is animpossibility now, thank God, but then it was a cruel, dreadfulreality. Like cattle, they were penned for the night, and were to bekept there for a day or two, till another boat should take them to NewOrleans to be sold for the cane brake and the cotton field. They hadbeen bought by the dealer in men and women, who had them in charge, atthe slave pen in Washington, the capital of the United States. Foraught I know, Uncle Tom may have been among them, destined for thegenial, easy-going St. Clare and finally to pass into the hands ofLegree, the brute, who was to whip him to death. The next morning abright mulatto woman surprised us, as we were at breakfast, by cominginto our room and begging my father to purchase her. I never knew howshe managed to do this, I only know she stood before our free, happyhousehold pleading most earnestly, said she was not a field hand, wasa good house servant in her master's family where she was born andraised, and had been sold, "because massa died, and de family was toopoor to keep me; I'se a fustrate cook, and 'd sarve you faithful; and, oh, mistis, " turning to my mother, "I'se lef' little chillun in de oleVirginny home, and if you buys me, may be I might see 'um againsometime. " But it could not be, and the poor sorrowing mother wentback to the gang, whose breaking hearts were pining for home and dearones they could never again behold. And one morning they were drivenonto another boat, and passing slowly out of sight, sang, as theysailed down the river to their doom, "swing low, sweet chariot, " etc. _CHAPTER XII. _ CINCINNATI. From this Kentucky town, his two years of service as recruitingofficer having ended, our father was ordered to Fort Howard, GreenBay; but, being desirous that his children should have the advantageof the schools in Cincinnati, which at that time were consideredexceptionally excellent, he established us in that city in a prettyhome of our own, and for the first time the family was separated, hegoing alone to his post, while mother and children remained in Ohio. In 1829 Cincinnati was very different from the great city which nowspreads out over the beautiful hills, and extends miles on "La BelleRiviere. " It was a pretty, flourishing, clean town, and for us it wasa delightful home, the dense smoke from the innumerable industries, now hanging like a pall over the valley, was not known then, and theatmosphere was clear and bright. Nicholas Longworth was the great manthen; his strawberries and his beautiful gardens were famous, and hissudden rise from comparative poverty to enormous wealth, mostly bysuccessful ventures in real estate, was marvelous, such instancesbeing rare in those days. He was an eccentric, but very kind-heartedman, very good to the poor, and he had many warm friends. A few yearslater he turned his attention to the culture of grapes, and madeCincinnati famous for its catawba and other wines bearing theLongworth brand. There were many others whose names could be given and of whom eventhen the young city was justly proud. Dr. Drake, the eminent surgeonand beloved physician; Rev. Dr. Joshua L. Wilson, the Boanerges ofPresbyterianism; Dr. Samuel Johnson and Dr. Aydelotte, thehard-working and vigilant watchmen on the Episcopal watch towers;Judge Bellamy Storer, the distinguished jurist; Edward Mansfield, thegreat journalist; Salmon P. Chase, then the energetic and promisingyoung lawyer, years afterward Chief Justice of the United States, andmany others whose lives are written in the "History of Cincinnati. "From the long list I select a few names of those with whom our familywas intimately associated: Major David Gwynne, a former Paymaster inthe army, and my father's life-long friend; Judge Burnett, our nearand highly-esteemed neighbor; Dr. John Locke, my honored teacher forfour years; Alexander Kinmont, the eccentric Scotchman and mostthorough educator of boys; the Groesbecks, the Lytles, the Carneals, the Kilgours, the Piatts, the Wiggins, --all of whom bore a prominentpart in the early formative days of the beautiful city. Edward Mansfield, who did so much to shape the literary taste ofCincinnati and to promote its interests in many ways, deserves morethan a mere mention of his name. He was the son of Jared Mansfield, Professor at West Point Military Academy and Surveyor General of theNorthwest Territory. He graduated at West Point in 1819, and wasappointed Lieutenant of Engineers, but, at the earnest solicitation ofhis mother, resigned and turned his attention to legal pursuits. Hepracticed law for a while in Cincinnati in partnership with Mr. Mitchell, who afterwards became so famous as professor of astronomy. But finally Mr. Mansfield devoted himself to literary and scientificinvestigations, and published several books and essays of great value. In 1845 he wrote "The Legal Rights of Women, " and year after year somebiography or history from his fertile pen came to light, and waswelcomed and appreciated by the reading public. In 1836 he becameeditor of the "Cincinnati Chronicle, " afterwards of the "Chronicle andAtlas, " and in 1857 of the "Gazette. " "As an editor and contributor hewas remarkable for his impartiality and fairness, and was one of themost extensive newspaper writers in the country. He supported the Whigparty with great ability, and no one in his day did more for thetriumph of the Republican party. His memoirs, published by himself inhis seventy-eighth year, extending over the years from 1803 to 1843, are of great public interest. " The Asiatic cholera visited the United States for the first time in1832, and its ravages in Cincinnati were terrible. Business was in agreat measure suspended, schools were closed for a time, and the airwas full of "farewells to the dying and mournings for the dead, " butafter a time the dreadful scourge passed away, leaving an indelibleimpression on all, and the old order of things was resumed. In 1833 weleft our pleasant home in Cincinnati and went to Fort Winnebago, onthe Fox River, Wisconsin. This was just at the close of the Black Hawkwar, during which my father commanded at Fort Howard, Green Bay, andhad some pretty sharp experiences. On our way to our new station westopped at Fort Crawford, Prairie du Chien, several days to rest andprepare for our journey of nearly a week overland to Fort Winnebago, and were entertained at the hospitable quarters of Colonel ZacharyTaylor, then in command of the post. Our host and hostess were socordial and made us so comfortable and at home, Miss Knox Taylor wasso lovely, and little Dick and Betty such delightful playmates, thatwe enjoyed our visit there most fully, and have always remembered itwith great pleasure. And when we learned only a short time after ourarrival at our journey's end that Lieutenant Jefferson Davis hadcarried off our beautiful Miss Knox, in spite of her parents'watchfulness and her father's absolute commands, our grief andindignation knew no bounds. The pair went to St. Louis and weremarried. The Colonel and his wife never recovered from the shock, which seemed to blight the happiness of their home. They never sawtheir child again. There was no reconciliation between the parties, and the beloved, misguided daughter died in six months after leavinghome. He who treacherously beguiled her away from her happy home is anold man now, and must soon go to his account. He stands outprominently against a dark background, and no one will envy him therecollection of that deed or the place he occupies in the history ofthe country to which he proved false in her hour of trial. It is said that the broken-hearted father never spoke to him foryears, but that on the battle-field in Mexico, Captain Davis made asuccessful movement, and in passing him, General Taylor, as commandingofficer of the division to which he was attached, said, "that was welldone, Captain, " and perhaps he never spoke to him afterwards. When our delightful sojourn with the kind friends at Fort Crawfordcame to an end, we started in our open vehicle, which had been made ascomfortable as possible for our long ride of several days to our finaldestination, and, as there were no public houses on the road, ourdependence for accommodations, was upon the thinly scattered settlers, who for the most part were "roughing it, " and had few conveniences, scarcely any comforts to offer the weary traveler. One night the halt was called in front of a low log house of tworooms, connected by an enclosed passage way, which served the purposeof an eating room. The mistress of the house was the wife of a steamboat captain, butowing to some irreconcilable difference of sentiment, she refused tolive with him, and she was miserably poor. In pity to her sad case, her husband had sent, by my father, some articles of clothing which hehoped might be of use to her, and this errand served as ourintroduction. She was a tall, fine looking woman, and received andwelcomed us with the air of a princess dwelling in a palace. She was aniece of James Fennimore Cooper, and her grand and stately mien, inthe midst of such squalid poverty, would have been amusing, but forthe pity of it. Her father, a very old man, lay dying of consumption in one of therooms, and my little sister and I were assigned for the night to a beddirectly opposite the death couch. The one tallow candle on the standbeside him, guttering down in its socket, the fitful light from thevast fireplace, which made strange fantastic shapes and shadows on therough dark walls, and the clear cut profile of the dying man, with theerect dignified figure beside him, rising occasionally to arrange hispillow, or give him water, impressed us most painfully, effectuallydriving sleep from our eyes, which, under a kind of fascination, gazedintently on what they would fain not see. From time to time the dogsoutside howled dismally, and this forced night-watch was made mosthideous by the occasional hooting of an owl, or the prolonged bayingof hungry wolves in the distance. We were very weary, and at lastfell into a troubled slumber, but were haunted even in sleep by theghastly face across the room and the weird shadows on the wall, 'tillaroused by mother's morning kiss, and cheery call to breakfast, whichbanished all disturbing dreams, and waked us to the realities of abright sunshiny morning, and the morning meal which our grand hostesshad prepared for us to eat before we left this most uninvitingcaravansary. This repast consisted of potatoes boiled "au natural, "and some kind of drink which she announced as coffee, and which sheserved with the grace of a queen, dispensing the delicacies of hertable. I have never ceased to admire the admirable tact and grace with whichmy father added to this choice menu; some very nice boiled beef andother toothsome viands, with which our bountiful friends the Taylors, had packed our messchest; also, some choice tea, which father, accustomed to camping, knew how to prepare in perfection. All this hedid in such a way as to make the lady feel that it was an honor to usto share these things with her, and it was really gratifying to seeher calm enjoyment of delicacies to which she had long been astranger. I think, too, that the fragrant cup of tea and the delicatebit of toast, taken to the sick man, may have brought to his mindtender recollections of a time when he lived like a gentleman, anddispelled for a little while the memory of the family troubles, andthe complication of misfortunes which had reduced him to poverty anda dying bed in this comfortless log cabin in the wilderness. Kind friends met us with a hearty welcome at our journey's end, wherefor a few years we had a very happy home. The memory of the weeklymusicals at John Kinzie's pleasant agency, and the delightful rides onhorseback over the Portage to the point where Portage City now stands, quickens my heart-beats even now. But where now are all those who then called that little quadrangle"_home_?" Col. Cutler, Major Green, Captain Low, Lieutenants Johnston, Hooe, Collingsworth, Lacy, McLure, Ruggles, Reid, Whipple, DoctorsSatterlee, McDougal and Foote, Sutlers Goodell, Satterlee, Clark, Lieutenant Van Cleve and my own dear father? Alas! of all these butone answers to roll-call, and he and I hold in sweet remembrance thedear friends of our youth, and the beloved old fort, where He who hathled us graciously all our days, first brought us together, and blessedus with each other's love, and we thank Him from our hearts that Hehas spared us to each other for so many years. _CHAPTER XIII. _ NEW HOME--SCHOOL DAYS. There came a day in April, 1834, when my brother and I bade "good-bye"to all, and, under our father's care, left Fort Winnebago to go East, he to West Point, I to school in New Haven. We descended the sinuous Fox river in an open boat, having on board, besides ourselves, a crew of soldiers, and two ladies, who embracedthis opportunity to visit their Eastern home. The spring rains set in the next day, and our voyage down the Foxriver lasted ten days, during which time we had ample opportunity totest the efficacy of hydropathy, as our awning was by no meanswaterproof, and we were literally soaked the greater part of the time. In passing through Lake Winnebago the wind was so fearful that thecombined efforts of Captain and crew were necessary to preventshipwreck and disaster. The passage through the rapids below wasextremely hazardous, but a famous Indian pilot was employed to guideus over, and no harm befel us. The picture of that tall, dark figureat the bow, his long, black hair streaming in the wind, his arms bare, his motions, as he shifted his pole from side to side, rapid and fullof unconscious grace, his eyes glowing like stars with anxiousvigilance, his voice ringing out clear and musical from time to time, is as fresh in my mind as if all this was only yesterday. But civilization and never-tiring enterprise have waved over it theirmagic wand, and the whole scene is changed. Beautiful towns havesprung up about the clear, blue lake, and the place that knew theIndian and his people shall know him no more forever. In a distantcamping-place nearer the setting sun the remnant of a once powerfultribe is dragging out its existence, waiting and expecting to be movedstill farther west when the white man wants the land they occupy, _reserved_ to them only till that want becomes imperative and theUnited States says: "Go farther!" When we finally reached Fort Howard, and were cordially welcomed andhospitably entertained by General Brooke, of the Fifth Regiment, weforgot, in our exceeding comfort, all the perils and disagreeables bythe way, and not one of us experienced the slightest cold orinconvenience from our long exposure to the elements. We remained a week here awaiting a schooner, and I met for the firsttime Captain and Mrs. Marcy, parents of Mrs. General McLellan. Howpretty and charming she was, and how kind and tender to the boy andgirl who were going away from home and mother for the first time! Thebeautiful wife of General Brooke, too, was so loving and consideratein her motherly attentions to us that she completely won our hearts, and when she died, some years afterward, we felt bereaved. The voyage by schooner to Buffalo through the Straits ofMich-e-li-mac-i-nac and tempestuous little Lake St. Clair, a day ortwo at hoary, magnificent Niagara, the journey thence by stage, canal, railroad and steamboat to New York, filled up one month from the timewe took our farewell look at the star spangled banner floating overour far Western home. And this sixteen mile ride by rail fromSchenectady to Albany, which was over the first piece of road openedfor travel in the United States, seemed so like magic as to inspire uswith a kind of awe. I remember that in coming to a steep grade thepassengers alighted, while the train was drawn up the slope by somekind of stationary machinery. I recalled this experience of my girlhood a few years ago when, in aluxurious palace car, a party of us wound up and over the Veta pass, an ascent of 2, 439 feet in fourteen miles, and looking down the dizzyheight, as the two powerful engines, puffing and snorting like livingcreatures, labored to reach the summit, I marvelled at the splendidtriumph of genius and skill. After a pleasant day or two at West Point, where we left the youngCadet, and a short visit to relatives in New York, a most enjoyabletrip in a "Sound" steamer brought us to the "City of Elms, " one of thegreat educational centers of New England, which was to be my home fortwo years. There were many learned men in New Haven then, and the faculty of thetime-honored old college had on its roll names which will never die, Day, Silliman, Olmstead, and many others, --who were mighty ineloquence and theology, like Leonard Bacon and Dr. Taylor, proclaimedthe truth with no uncertain sound in the churches on the "Green" fromSabbath to Sabbath. Grand old Noah Webster, standing in the doorway ofhis modest home on our road from school to church, was, to me, anembodiment of the spelling-book and dictionary, and I instinctivelymade obeisance to him as we passed that way. One of the few privileges granted me in the way of recreation while at"Mrs. Apthorpe's School for Young Ladies" was an occasional visit toour dear cousins, the Brewsters, who occupied a beautiful home on theSound, formerly known as the "Pavillion, " which might be calledhistoric, for in a dark dungeon underneath the house the notoriousregicides, Goff and Whalley, were hidden in the old, old times. Andthe graveyard in New Haven, with its tall poplar trees, was an epitomeof the lives of men and women who had made their impress, not only onthat community, but on the world. Our school was situated on Hillhouseavenue, and our walks were mostly confined to that quiet, shady streetand "Powder House lane, " in order that we might avoid meeting the"students, " of whom our teacher seemed to have a great dread, a fearfrom which her pupils were entirely free. But for all this care andprecaution we learned to know _by sight_ Benjamin Silliman, who livednext door to us, and young Thomas Skinner, who was opposite, and it isdelightful to know that these two young men, who were full to the brimwith fun and harmless mischief, have become eminent and dignified menof renown, one as a chemist and scientist, the other as adistinguished divine and honored professor in a theological seminary. The college commencement exercises were held in the Central Church, onthe "Green, " and all the schools, male and female, were wellrepresented in the large audience. The ladies occupied the center ofthe church, and, in order that the large bonnets in vogue at that timemight not intercept the view of the stage, several long lines werestretched longitudinally over their heads, to which they were expectedto attach them, and, after all had hung up their bonnets, these lineswere drawn up out of the way until needed again. Many of the ladiesprovided pretty caps and headdresses for the occasion, and thedelicate laces, with their tasteful trimmings, and the bright eyes andhappy faces, formed a pretty picture long to be remembered. Recallingit, I see again the dimpled cheeks and soft, graceful appointments ofthose merry girls, and, wafted backward over the bridge of many years, I sit among them, the spring-time of youth comes back to me, and Ibless God for memory. What if we are old women now, worn and wearywith care and trial it may be; this blessed gift refreshes us on ourway to the eternal youth that awaits us just beyond, and we exult inthe belief that the flowers over there are fadeless, that old age isnot known, and friends no more say "good-bye. " [Illustration] _CHAPTER XIV. _ FATHER'S DEATH, ETC. The fall of 1835 found us all, except our Cadet, at Fort Winnebagoagain, but heavy afflictions made that winter a very sad one. Theanxiety consequent on the serious illness of two beloved members ofthe family so wore upon our dear father, whose constitution had beenseverely tried by arduous military duties, that after many weeks ofpain, he died, and left us crushed and desolate. I have beside me an old "Order Book, " open at a page on which is thissad record: "The Major Commanding has the painful duty to announce to the command, the death of Major Nathan Clark; he will be buried to-morrow afternoon at 2 o'clock, with the honors of war, where all present, except those persons who may be expressly excused, will appear under arms in full uniform; the Commanding Officer directs that the escort be composed of four companies, which, in accordance with his own feelings as well as what is due to the deceased, he will command in person. All officers of this command will wear black crape attached to the hilts of their swords, and as testimony of respect for the deceased, this badge will be worn for the period of thirty days. The Surgeon of the Post will act as Chaplain. By order of Major Green. Feb. 18th, 1836. Signed J. T. COLLINGSWORTH, Act. Adj. " And at the time appointed, a detail of soldiers from his own "CompanyC, " reverently place upon the bier the encoffined form of theirbeloved commander, having for a pall the "Stars and Stripes", on whichare laid the sword and accoutrements now no longer needed. Memory brings back to me that mournful afternoon, and I see thebearers with their burden; the long procession of soldiers withtrailed arms; the commissioned officers each in his appropriate place, all keeping time and step to the muffled drum as it rolls out itsrequiem on the wintry air, in the strains of Pleyel's heart-meltinghymn; the weeping wife and children in the large sleigh, --all passingout the great gate to the lone graveyard. And the precious burden islowered, and at its head stands Surgeon Lyman Foote, our father'slife-long friend, and in a voice trembling with emotion, reads thewonderful words: "I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord. "After the burial service comes the last salute, and, leaving therethat which is so dear to us, we go back to the empty quarters, boweddown heavily, as those who mourn for one inexpressibly dear. During those weeks of pain and languishing, my father, knowing whatthe end must be, and realizing the change his death would make in allour plans, left full directions for our future course; and inaccordance with his last wishes, my marriage with Lieutenant H. P. VanCleve was solemnized, in the presence of a few friends, March 22d, 1836. Rev. Henry Gregory, of the Episcopal Church, at that timelaboring as a missionary among the Stockbridge Indians, performed theceremony. His station was between the Forts Winnebago and Howard, andhe had a serious time making the journey on horseback to the fort, thesnow being very deep and the weather severe. Besides using up hishorse he became snow-blind, and reached us pretty well worn out, butwe can never forget his cheerful endurance of his trials, and hisgenial, affable manner, which made warm friends of all who came incontact with him. He was one who _lived_ the gospel which he preached, and unconsciously diffused a beneficial influence all about him. Notwithstanding his temporary blindness, he was so perfectly familiarwith the marriage service that there was no delay in consequence, andafter resting with us a few days, till his eyesight was restored, heleft us on a new horse to return to his home among the Indians, wherehe labored faithfully and effectively for some years longer. As soon as navigation opened, my mother went to Connecticut with twochildren, leaving the youngest, a dear little three year old girl, inour care. We spent the first summer of our married life very quietlyand happily at the old fort, and enjoyed exceedingly a visit from twocompanies of the First Regiment, from Prairie du Chien, who had beenordered up there, to strengthen our post, on account of a rumor of anIndian outbreak which had reached Washington. Col. Zachary Taylorcommanded the detachment personally, and encamping just outside thefort, made a beautiful display. Old General Brady was with them also, and we were proud and happy to entertain our dear father's old friendsat our own table. To add to the pleasure of this visit, there was notand had not been the slightest foundation for alarm. It was said thatnot only were the Indians perfectly peaceable, but that they had notenough ammunition to kill what game they needed for food. ColonelTaylor knew all this, but was obliged to obey orders; so we had agrand picnic of a few weeks, just when the prairies were covered withdelicious strawberries, and the cows were yielding abundance of milkand cream. That was in the old time, when mails were monthly, andtelegraphing was a thing of the future. In the following September, my husband having resigned his commission, we bade a long "good bye" to the army and its many tenderassociations. This step was taken after much thought and deliberation, and in accordance with the advice of our dear father. But the army hadalways been my home; I loved it as such. I love it still, and it is acomfort to me in my old age to know that I am not far away from afort, that I can _almost_ see the beautiful flag, as it sways in thebreeze, can _almost_ hear the drum and fife, the music of mychildhood, and can _feel_ that they are near me, in dear old FortSnelling, my earliest home. [Illustration] _CHAPTER XV. _ In 1840, being in Cincinnati, where we were delightfully situated, wehad a rare opportunity to witness the enthusiasm of our countrymen, asdisplayed in the Presidential campaign of which General Harrison wasthe successful man. The excitement of that time was tremendous. Thehard cider songs-- "And should we be any ways thirsty, I'll tell you what we will all do, We'll bring forth a keg of hard cider And drink to old Tippecanoe. " Also: "For Tippecanoe and Tyler, too, And with them we'll beat little Van. Van, Van's a used-up man, And with them we'll beat little Van. " Resounded through the streets from morn till midnight, drums beat andcannons roared, and, seeing the way in which the poor old man wasdragged about from place to place in all kinds of processions, we werenot surprised when we learned of his death a few weeks after hisinauguration. Then, alas! what a sad procession passed through thosesame streets, of late so full of life and joy; now heavily draped inmourning and echoing to funereal strains, as the worn-out old man isborne slowly through the beautiful city to rest in his quiet home atNorth Bend. How empty seem all earthly honors in view of such sharpcontrasts. The lesson sank deep, and can never be forgotten. Lookingover the leaves of my diary kept during that eventful year, I findrecorded there a sorrowful incident that occurred during the winter, bringing desolation to a rich man's home and grief to many lovingfriends. I give it here in the form of a story, as I have told it tomy children from time to time. It is an entirely correct narrative, without the slightest coloring, and I have called it "A Tale of theFlorida War. " "You had better go, dear Lizzie, it will do you good; the confinementin this lonesome fort does not agree with you. A ride on horseback anda pleasant visit with dear friends will brighten you up and bring backsome of the roses to your cheeks. My duty keeps me here, but Sherwoodwill go with you; the Colonel will provide a suitable escort, andthere is nothing to fear. You will return in better spirits and behappy again, will you not, my drooping lily? What! tears again? Drythem, dearest, and let us hope that you will soon receive thatlong-expected letter from your mother, for she must feel that by thistime, if any punishment was necessary, yours has been sufficient. Nowsmile again, dear one, as you were wont to do in happier days, or Ishall tell you that my heart reproaches me for having taken you fromyour luxurious home and brought upon you so much unhappiness. " "Sayanything but that, my beloved, and I will try to conquer my sadness. You know I would not exchange these simple quarters of a poorLieutenant for all the splendors of my father's house. For your sake, and with you beside me to cheer and comfort me, I could bear allhardship and privation; but, oh! to hear from my parents that I amforgiven, that they still remember me with my sisters, as one of theirdear children. I will be patient, dear, and trust more fully in Himwho has said: 'When thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then theLord will take thee up. ' He will surely hear my daily prayer andrestore peace to my heart, and we will dwell on the sweet promises weread together in the Book we have learned to love so well, and willtrust Him who is our best, our unfailing friend. And now, since you, my dear, kind husband, wish it, I will prepare for this littleexcursion. I cannot bear to leave you here, but I shall be back soon, and who knows but to-morrow's mail may bring some news from home whichwill cheer and comfort us both. Yet I cannot account for a feelingthat takes possession of me now and then, that something is about tohappen; that all will not be well while we are absent the one from theother. What can it be? I cannot shake it off. The fort may beattacked, and should anything befall you, my best beloved, what wouldbecome of me? Much better remain and perish with you than return to adesolate home. " "Now, my darling, do not give way to such dismal forebodings. Youalways cheered me during those days of doubt and suspense in Newport, bidding me look forward to brighter days. You would not now sadden thehours of your absence from me by causing anxious thoughts in my heart. Oh! my precious wife; you have borne much for my sake, you have beento me in very truth a ministering angel. Do not now despond, but stillstrengthen me by your brave, hopeful smiles. You know how I shall missyou every moment of your absence, but the hope that this ride will doyou good makes me willing and anxious to have you go. And see, theOrderly has just brought your horse, and Sherwood is crossing theparade to tell you he is ready. Let me put your shawl around you andtie your hat, that you may be all in waiting for him. " The young wifeturned upon him her large, beautiful eyes, beaming with love, and, twining her arms about his neck, kissed the "good-bye" she could notspeak. Then, looking earnestly to heaven, she silently called down theprotection of heaven on him whom she loved only next to God, in whomshe trusted. Her husband tenderly embraced her, led her into theparlor, and, handing her to the young officer who was to take chargeof her, said: "Be careful of her, Sherwood, and let me see you both bynoon to-morrow. My compliments to the ladies of Fort Holmes, and urgeMrs. Montgomery's special friend to return with her and partake of thehospitalities of Fort Adams. " Sherwood bowed in acquiescence, and, assisting the lady into her saddle, acknowledged gracefully the honorconferred upon him and mounted his horse, which was impatient tobegone. Then the last "good-byes" were spoken, loving looks exchanged, and in a few moments the young Lieutenant and his precious charge hadpassed through the gate and were out of sight. The young husband gazedafter them a long while, with anxious, troubled look. "Dear girl, " hesaid, at last, "she, too, feels forebodings of coming ill, and I darenot tell her, but for days I have felt much depressed. This is wrong, however. I must struggle against it and try to be cheerful when shereturns. Why should I feel thus? We were never more secure than atpresent, and soon this vile war will be over, and surely by the timewe return to our homes the parents of my precious wife will havebecome reconciled to us, and we shall be very happy. " Turning from thedoor and entering the room where he had parted with his wife, he threwhimself on the lounge, overcome by various emotions, and, in fact, farfrom well in body, though this had been carefully concealed from hisanxious wife. While he is thus resting and trying to put away unpleasant thoughts, and our fair heroine is pursuing her way to Fort Holmes, we will tellthe reader of some of the peculiar circumstances of LieutenantMontgomery and his gentle bride, at the time our story begins. LizzieTaylor was a fair girl of little more than seventeen summers when shefirst met Lieutenant Montgomery at a party given by some of the_elite_ of Cincinnati. They were mutually attracted to each other, andbeing thrown frequently into each other's society, this feelinggradually ripened into love. Honorable and high-minded in all things, young Montgomery did not conceal his fondness for Lizzie, and it wasgenerally known that he was her lover. But her father, a man of greatwealth and ambition, did not approve of what he chose to call herchildish fancy, and, being desirous that his daughters should formbrilliant marriages, frowned scornfully on the suit of one who had_only_ his irreproachable character and his commission in the army ofthe United States to offer as his credentials. Opposition in thiscase, however, had its usual effect, and Lizzie, in all things elseobedient and complying, felt that here, even her father should notinterfere, when his objections were simply want of wealth andinfluence on the part of him to whom she had given her young heart. The young people, were not hasty, however, but waited patiently anduncomplainingly a year, the father promising them that he would thinkof it and give them an answer at that time. The proud man flatteredhimself, that during that probationary year he could divert hisdaughter from her foolishness, as he termed it, and excite herambition to form a wealthy alliance. To this end, he travelled with her, introduced her into gay andfashionable circles, and lavished upon her indulgences in every shape. But he realized little of the depths of a woman's love, and was muchastonished when, at the end of the year, she sought an interview withhim, in which she told him, her feelings were unchanged, and shedesired his consent and blessing on her union with LieutenantMontgomery, adding that she hoped that time had softened his feelingstowards one with whom he could find no fault save that he loved hisdaughter, and who was prepared to be to him a dutiful, loving son. Her father turned upon her in anger, and stamping violently, swore byall that was sacred that never would he give his consent to her unionwith one so much beneath her in wealth and position. "Then, father, "said his gentle daughter, mildly but with much dignity; "we will marrywithout it, for as sure as God has witnessed our vows, so surely shallnought but death part him and me; 'his people shall be my people, andhis God, my God. ' Forgive me this first act of disobedience to yourcommands, and believe me that I still love you as tenderly as I havealways loved my father; but there are feelings which not even aparent's authority can control, and with the blessing of God and thelove of him most dear to me of all on earth, I can brave even morethan a father's displeasure. " So saying, she left the room, while herfather, astonished beyond measure, remained motionless, completelytaken by surprise at this determined opposition to his will in one whohad hitherto been all gentleness and submission. Days passed, and shecontinued as ever, gentle and loving to her father. No reference byeither was made to their late conversation, and he began to think shehad thought better of it and had concluded to yield to his wishes, even congratulated himself that the _childish affair_ had been nippedin the bud by his timely and judicious authority, when on one brightsummer day, like a thunder-clap from an unclouded sky, came a verypolite note from Lieutenant Montgomery apprising him of the fact thatLizzie and he had just been married in the presence of a few friendsby an Episcopal clergyman, and that they craved his forgiveness andblessing. From that moment her father's heart, already hard, was setas a flint against her. No entreaties could prevail on him to see her, and her mother, nearly crazy with grief, anger and wounded pride, tookcounsel of friends, who most unwisely encouraged her bitterness andconvinced her that no concessions should be made to a disobedientchild under any circumstances, making the poor, distressed, mistakenmother feel that it was a Christian duty to let her feel that her acthad made her an outcast from her parents' love and home. Therefore, although she saw the poor girl occasionally, she always heaped on herdevoted head the most withering reproaches, telling her she haddisgraced her father's name, and must expect to reap the fruits of herdisobedience. And when the sad little bride sent to her, begging forsome of her clothes, of which she was sadly in need, for she hadcarried nothing with her when she left her old home, she tore fromits frame a beautiful portrait of dear Lizzie, and, rolling it up insome of the very plainest of her clothing, sent it, with the messagethat they had no further need of it, and that the articles sent weregood enough for one in her position. During that summer Lieutenant Montgomery was stationed at Newport, Ky. , on the recruiting service, where my husband, my mother and Ioccasionally visited them, and we were astonished to notice with whatperfect kindness, even affection, they always spoke of her parents andfriends; but when we found her once reading God's Word and stayingherself on His precious promises, we no longer wondered that there wasin her heart no feeling of bitterness, for she, too, had learned thelessons He taught, who, "when He was reviled, reviled not again, butcommitted himself to Him who judgeth righteously. " A very few of herfriends still visited her, but nearly all felt it would not be politicto be found in sympathy with one on whom the wealthy and influentialGriffin Taylor frowned with displeasure. She always believed herfather would relent, and sometimes, when she saw him approaching heron the street, her heart would give a great bound with the hope thatnow he would surely speak to her; but as soon as the proud man sawher, he invariably crossed the street to avoid the meeting, and thenshe felt sore and wounded, indeed. So the summer passed away, and inthe fall came orders for the Lieutenant to join his regiment, thenengaged in the terrible war with the Seminoles in Florida. Allwondered if Lizzie's love for her husband would stand this severetest, and many were astonished when they heard it was her intention toaccompany him to the land of the Everglades, where so many had losttheir lives, and where the prevailing fever or the deadly tomahawkmight leave her alone among strangers. A few days before they left wevisited them in the old Newport barracks, and I said to her: "Lizzie;remember you are a soldier's wife, and must not give way to fear. "Never can I forget the look of tenderness with which her husbandregarded her as he replied for her: "Dear Lizzie has no fear; she ismore of a soldier than I am. Had it not been for her brave bearing andher sweet words of encouragement, I know not but I might have turnedcoward at the thought of exposing the dear girl to the dangers andprivations of such a campaign; but the knowledge that I possess such atreasure will nerve my arm and give me courage to fight manfully topreserve her from danger, and to end this dreadful war with therelentless savages. " After repeated but vain efforts to see herfather, she bade farewell to her friends, and those to whom she hadclung during her days of trial and suspense accompanied her to thesteamer which was to carry her from her home. The day was a cheerlessone; the sun veiled his face behind dark, ominous clouds, and the windsighed mournfully, as if moaning out a requiem. We felt oppressed withforeboding; we knew she was going into the midst of real danger; herfather had refused to see her; her mother had parted with her inanger; nearly all her old friends had frowned upon her, and now natureseemed to give signs of displeasure, though we who loved her felt thatthe heavens were weeping in full sympathy with the dear girl. Theyoung husband and wife strove to be cheerful, she smiled sweetlythrough her tears, as she spoke of returning in the spring, expressingthe hope that by that time her parents would have forgiven them andwould welcome them into the beloved family circle. We stand on the wharf as the boat pushes off, waving our last"good-byes" and breathing prayers for their safety and welfare, whileshe leans on the arm of him for whom she has forsaken all but God; thegreat wheels revolve, the boat moves on her way, and that girlishform, on whom our eyes are fixed, grows fainter and fainter, till itfades out of sight. We heard from them immediately on their arrival atFort Adams, and the Lieutenant wrote that Lizzie was well and would beperfectly happy but for the thought of her parents' displeasure. Heryoung sister, Carrie, a sweet girl of thirteen, had shed many tearsfor her, and had used all her eloquence to bring about areconciliation, apparently in vain, but finally she had so farprevailed with her mother as to extort a promise from her that shewould write to her, which fact she straightway communicated to Lizzie, who was, at the opening of our story, looking anxiously for thispromised letter, which might contain words of love, perhapsforgiveness. But she had looked so long and had been so oftendisappointed, that suspense, that worst of all trials to a woundedspirit, had affected her health and made her pale and sad. It was onthis account her husband had prevailed on her to accept an invitationfrom an old friend of hers and make a little excursion to Fort Holmes. The real object of the trip was the bearing of important messages toFort Holmes, and a full escort had been detailed as a matter ofprudence, although the Indians had been very quiet for some time andno danger was apprehended. Lieutenant Sherwood, as commander of theexpedition, deemed it an honor to take especial charge of the youngwife, who by her gentle loveliness had endeared herself to all. Butafter they were out of sight Montgomery became very restless, and, remaining only a short time on the sofa where we left him, when wecommenced this long digression, he arose and paced the floor in deepand anxious thought, and at length, as if to throw off the terribleweight that oppressed him, went to the door where he had parted fromhis darling, and oh! horror! there stands her horse, panting andriderless, quivering in every limb with fright. Without an instant'sdelay he sprang on to the animal and rode, he scarcely knew where, notknowing nor daring to surmise what terrible thing had befallen hisprecious wife. What words can depict the scene that broke upon hisbewildered gaze when the horse instinctively stopped about three milesfrom the fort? There on the ground lay several soldiers, murdered, scalped and stripped of their clothing. A little farther on lay poorSherwood, butchered by the brutal savages, and near him the lifelessbody of her whom he had died to protect. Close by her side lay asoldier mortally wounded, who had just strength enough left to say: "Ifought--for her--till the last, --Lieutenant, --and have saved her--fromthe horrid scalping-knife. " Poor, distracted Montgomery threw himselfon the ground beside her, calling despairingly upon her, imploring herto speak one more word to him, but all in vain; and when the troopsfrom the fort, who had taken the alarm, arrived at the dreadful spot, he lay like one dead, with his arm around the lifeless form of hisprecious Lizzie. And thus they carried them home in the conveyancesent for the purpose--the poor husband to awake to a bitter sense ofhis terrible bereavement, and she who had so lately been a lovelybride, to be dressed for her burial. Imagine, if you can, the feelingsof her parents when the heartrending news reached them. Her father'spride was crushed, her mother's heart was broken, and those who knewher well say, although she lived many years, that she never smiledagain. Her father wrote immediately to Lieutenant Montgomery, imploring him to come to him and be to him as an own son, feeling thisto be the only reparation he could make to him and his poor, murderedchild. This offer was, of course, rejected, for how could theheartbroken husband consent to live in the home from which his dearwife had been turned in anger away. Her parents felt that they deserved this, but wrote again begging thebody of their daughter, that it might repose among her own kindred andnot among a savage people. To this he consented, although he could notbe prevailed on to come himself to Cincinnati, and accordingly, earlyin the spring, the remains of the once lovely and idolized LizzieTaylor were brought to her father's house. Her false-hearted summer friends could now weep for her as thedaughter of the rich Griffin Taylor, while they would scarcely haveregretted her as simply the wife of a poor soldier. Alas! for thehollow friendship of the world! Had one-half the sympathy beenbestowed upon the poor child when she was turned from her father'sdoor, an outcast, as was lavished on her poor, unconscious body whenlying in that father's house a corpse, how much she would have beencheered and comforted under her sore trial. Everything possible wasdone to make it a splendid funeral--a rosewood coffin and velvet pall, crape streamers and funereal plumes, an elegant hearse, and an almostunending line of carriages--pitiable, senseless pride, that would castaway as worthless the priceless jewel, and bestow tender care andpompous honor on the perishable casket that once held it! Nearly fifty years have passed into history since that mild springday, when the long procession passed through the streets ofCincinnati, telling in its mournful march of wounded pride, blightedhopes, broken hearts, and agony unspeakable. And yet so indelibly isit fixed in my memory that it seems but yesterday, and I find it hardto realize that the young, gallant officer for whom our hearts weresore that day, is now an old man, with white hair, still in theservice of the country he has faithfully served through all theseyears, holding high rank, and honored, respected and beloved by allwho know him. The father, mother, sister, and very many of the nearestrelatives and friends of the dear girl have passed away. Soon all whopersonally knew of this story will be gone. A simple but appropriatemonument to the memory of the gallant Sherwood and the brave, truesoldier, who gave up his life to protect the precious body frommutilation, was erected where they fell, and may still be standingthere, but that is all that remains to tell of this heartrendingincident of the bloody war with the Seminoles in the Everglades ofFlorida. _CHAPTER XVI. _ From our pleasant home and work in Cincinnati we were called away bythe illness and death of Lieutenant C. C. Daveiss, a brother-in-lawand army associate of my husband, to whom he left the care of hisfamily and the settlement of his business. He had resigned hiscommission in the army a few years before, and had settled on a largeplantation which he owned near La Grange, Missouri, and DaveissPrairie, as it was called, was our home for two years, during whichtime we had some new experiences, and a fine opportunity to study aclass of people entirely different from any former associations. Theywere mostly from what might be called the backwoods of Kentucky; wereignorant, and had some very crude notions of the world at large. Nearly all of them owned a few slaves, raised a great many hogs, cultivated large fields of corn, and were content with a diet of cornbread and bacon, varied, during their long summers, with vegetables, melons and honey, all of which were very abundant. They had some cowsand sheep, and some fine horses, which enjoyed unlimited pasturage onthe succulent grasses of the prairies. They made their own clothingfrom the wool, spun and woven at home, and were in a measureindependent of the world. They were religiously inclined, and hadpreaching every Sabbath, at some accessible point, the Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Campbellite preachers alternating, thefirst named denomination being the most numerous. Among them was astalwart, _powerful_ preacher, who was also the owner of a fine farmand a pretty strong force of negroes. He was held in high esteem forhis great natural gifts, and we can never forget the meed of praiseaccorded him by his gentle, adoring wife, when, in speaking of thismighty man, she said, with exultation: "Mr. L. Is so gifted that henever has to study his sermons. They come naturally to him. He hardlyever looks at a book from Sunday till Saturday, not even the Bible!"and we believed her. The houses were built mostly of logs, and the architecture was of themost primitive style. The living room was furnished with one or morebeds, a table, and strong home-made hickory chairs with painfullystraight backs; and it was customary in occupying one of them to leanit back against the wall or bed, at a convenient angle, putting thefeet on the rounds; and this fashion made it the proper thing tosalute a visitor thus: "How-d'y? Walk right in; take a cheer, and leanback. " One of our neighbors, in giving her ideas of a newcomer, said:"She's smart enough 's fur as I know, but I don't reckon she knowsmuch about manners, for when I _sot_ down on a cheer she never askedme to lean back. " Soon after we were settled at Daveiss Prairie, a neighbor, hearing wehad taught school elsewhere, called to see me, and opened up thesubject of education with, "I'd kind o' like to have our Reu_ben_ larnfiggers; he takes to larnin the prettiest you ever see. But, lawsakes, he ain't nothin to our Pop. Why, Pop can read ritin"! I learnedsubsequently that "our Pop", a pretty girl of eighteen or twenty, wasthe wonder of the country on account of this rare accomplishment, andseeing her frequently on horseback, with her "_ridin-skeert_" tuckedabout her, as if for a journey, I inquired one day if she had anyspecial calling, and learned that she rode from farm to farm, as herservices were needed, to read the letters received by the differentfamilies; "and", my informant added, "she makes a heap of money, too;I tell you Pop's smart. " Another ambitious mother called to learn if I would teach her "Sam_the tables_, so'st he can measure up potatoes and garden truckhandy, " adding, "it ain't no use for girls to bother much withfiggers, but I see Miss Daveiss draw in a piece" (into the loom)"without countin' every thread, so you may just let Kitty larn enoughto do that-a way. " Spending an afternoon with this mother, a good, sensible woman and very kind neighbor, I found her preparing thewedding trousseau of one of her girls, who was to be married the nextweek. She was a good girl, a general favorite, and all were muchinterested in the coming event. In the course of my visit one of thedaughters called out, "Lucy, where's the fine needle? you had itlast;" and the reply came, promptly, "I reckon it's in that crack overyon, whar I stuck it when I done clar'd off the bed last night;" andthere it was, sure enough, and by the aid of that little solitaryimplement some delicate ruffling was hemmed, and the bride looked verypretty and bright a few days later, when she stood beside her chosenhusband in her humble home and promised to be to him a good, truewife; and when, after a bountiful wedding feast, the happy pairmounted their horses, and, amidst the good wishes and congratulationsof friends, rode away to the new log house in the wilderness, wherethey were to make a home. I could not but admire these simple souls, who knew nothing of the strife and turmoil and excitement of the outerworld, and required so little to make them happy. Besides this class of people of whom I have been telling, there wereseveral families in our neighborhood who were well educated andrefined, and we formed lasting friendships among them. It may be that, if Missouri had been a free State, we might have made our home there, but slavery, even as exhibited here in its mildest form, was aninsuperable objection, and when my husband, having faithfullydischarged his trust, felt that his sister's affairs were in such astate that she no longer required his aid, we bade farewell to ourbeloved relatives, to our dear friend Richard Garnett and others, andreturned to Michigan, which had been our first home after leaving thearmy. Here we remained for many years, much of the time in Ann Arbor, where we were engaged in teaching, and where we formed many warmfriendships, and became much attached to the beautiful city, which hastaken so high a rank as an educational center. Our school was large, and comprised a male and female department, in the former of which anumber of young men were prepared for the university. Among them wasJames Watson, who became so famous as an astronomer, and who from thefirst astonished all by his wonderful facility in all branches ofmathematics. We meet now and then some of our old pupils, middle-agedmen and women, and are proud to see them filling their places in theworld as good wives and mothers or useful, earnest men. We watched thegrowth of the University of Michigan from its infancy, and rejoicedwhen Chancellor Tappan took it in hand and gave it an impetus whichchanged its status from an academy to a vigorous go-ahead college, with wonderful possibilities. He was a grand man. It was a pleasureand an honor to know him, and Michigan owes much to his wise andskillful management, which brought her university up to the highposition it occupies to-day. We loved Michigan, and would fain have lived there always, but severalof our family became much enfeebled by the malarial influences soprevalent at that time in the beautiful peninsula, and we felt that acomplete change of climate was imperatively necessary. So, bidding areluctant good-bye to home and friends, we turned our faces towardsMinnesota, in the hope that that far-famed atmosphere would drive awayall tendency to intermittent fevers and invigorate our shatteredconstitutions. [Illustration] _CHAPTER XVII. _ In the autumn of 1856 our family removed to Long Prairie, Todd county, Minnesota, as the nucleus of a colony which was to settle and developa large tract of land, purchased from government by a company, somemembers of which were our friends and relatives. The weather was very pleasant when we left our Michigan home, but atthe Mississippi river the _squaw winter_, immediately preceding_Indian summer_, came upon us with unusual sharpness, and lastedthrough the remainder of our journey. We were to cross the river at alittle hamlet called "Swan River, " and our plan was to hireconveyances there which should take us the remaining distance. But onarriving at this point we found a young friend who had come West forhis health, and was acting as agent for my brother, one of the ownersof the purchase. He was on a business errand and not well prepared totake us back with him, but as we learned that it would be impossibleto procure transportation for two or three days, and were extremelyanxious to reach the end of our journey, he decided to make theattempt. We made the transit in small skiffs amidst huge cakes offloating ice, which threatened to swamp us before we reached thewestern shore, and our fears well nigh got the better of some of us, but taking a lesson from the implicit confidence our dear childrenreposed in us, we rested in our Heavenly Father's love and care, andso passed safely and trustingly over. At 4 P. M. , we struck out intothe wilderness, but, the roads being rough and our load heavy, we madevery slow progress. By 9 o'clock we had not reached the half-way mark, but by way of encouragement to the horses, and in consideration of thetired, hungry children, we came to a halt and improvised a nocturnalpicnic. It was cold, very cold, there was no shelter, no light but thecamp-fire, and yet there was an attempt at cheerfulness, and theentertainment passed off with some degree of merriment. After an hour's rest we resumed our journey, and, although ourconveyance was an open wagon, so crowded as to be very uncomfortable, especially for the children, yet we did the best we could, and thelittle emigrants bore the journey bravely for some hours longer. Butwhen within six miles of our destination, just beside a desertedIndian encampment, our horses fairly gave out and would not pullanother inch. So a large camp-fire was made; a sort of shelterconstructed of branches of trees; a Buffalo robe laid on the ground, and the weary travelers found a temporary resting place, while ouryoung friend, above alluded to, started with the used-up team to bringus help, if he could reach the prairie. I had chosen to pass the hoursof waiting in the wagon, feeling that I could better protect my dearlittle baby in this way. So when all the tired ones were still, andthe silence only broken by the crackling of the burning fagots, theoccasional falling of a dry twig or branch from the bare, ghostlylooking trees about us, the hooting of an owl, the dismal howlings ofthe wolves in the forest, I sat there looking at the weary forms soilly protected from the cold, thinking of the little white beds inwhich my dear ones were wont to slumber peacefully and comfortably, the friends whom we had left, who might even now be dreaming of us, ofsome of the farewell tea drinkings by cheerful firesides in dear oldAnn Arbor, where tender words had been spoken, and our prospects in afar western home been discussed over delicate, tempting viands, prepared by loving hands; and these thoughts kept my _heart_ warmedand comforted, albeit I shivered with external cold; but hugging mybaby closer, and committing all to the care of Him who never slumbersnor sleeps, I was just sinking into unconsciousness when a voice, notheard for a year and a half, broke the deep stillness with: "How!Nitchie!" and there by the flickering light of the fire, I saw oureldest son, who had left us, for a trip with his uncle to the RockyMountains a mere boy, and now stood before us in size a man. As hisfather rose to his feet, he exclaimed in an agony of joy: "Oh! father, is it you?" and he fell upon his father's neck and wept, and hisfather wept upon his neck. Then, as in a dream, I heard, "Where'smother?" in an instant he stood beside me, and I was sobbing in thearms of my first-born, my well-beloved son. Our messenger had told him that the horses had given out just besidean Indian encampment, and that, unless all haste was made, the loadmight be carried off. So the boy, without a moment's delay, took hishorses and came at full speed to save the goods. Hence his firstsalutation, greeting, as he supposed, a party of Chippewas. The little camp was all alive with surprise and joyful excitement, andwith a hearty appreciation of this very good practical joke, we weresoon in motion again, wending our way, with lightened hearts, to ourjourney's end, which we reached without further let or hindrance. After a brief, but much needed rest, we opened our eyes on a calm fairSabbath morning, and our new home, in the soft hazy light of an Indiansummer sunrise was very lovely. It required no very vivid imaginationto fancy ourselves in the happy valley of "Rasselas, Prince ofAbyssinia, " and it seemed to me impossible that any one could everdesire, like that discontented youth, to leave so charming a spot. Theterm prairie is a misnomer in this case; instead we found a beautifulfruitful valley lying between two low ranges of hills, interspersedwith groves of trees and picturesque lakes, and watered by a riverwinding gracefully through its whole length. It had been the seat ofthe Winnebago Agency, and there were, still standing, in pretty goodorder, a large number of houses. These buildings, empty though theywere, gave the idea of a settlement, dispelling every thing like afeeling of loneliness or isolation. On our way to our new home, wehad purchased, at Dubuque, ample supplies for a year, but, (thesteamboats at that season being much crowded), were obliged to leavethem with our household goods to follow, as we were assured in thenext boat. Resting in this assurance and being supplied for thepresent, we had no anxiety for the future; we knew not what was beforeus. God tenderly "shaded our eyes, " and we were very happy and full ofhope. Prairie hens and pheasants were abundant beyond belief. Ourboys, standing in the kitchen door, could frequently shoot as many aswe needed from the trees in the dooryard, while the numerous lakes inthe vicinity afforded us most excellent fish, such as an epicure mighthave envied us. Some of our family, enfeebled by malarial fevers, andthe ills resulting from them, imbibed fresh draughts of health andlife with every breath, the weak lungs and tender irritable throatshealed rapidly in the kindly strengthening atmosphere, and hearts thathad been sore at parting with dear friends and a beloved home, werefilled with gratitude to Him who had led us to so fair and lovely aresting place, and we mark that time with a white stone in memory ofHis loving kindness in thus preparing us for what was to come. Early in December, winter came upon us in earnest; snow fell to such adepth that we were fairly shut out from the whole world, and sosuddenly as to find us unprepared. It was difficult and almostimpossible, on account of the deep snow, to procure wood sufficientto keep up the constant fires necessary on account of the intensecold. We had no mail, no telegraph, no news from our supplies. Yet wehoped and made the best of our situation. Our children, who had read"Robinson Crusoe" and "Swiss Family Robinson, " thoroughly enjoyed thisentirely new experience, and, every day explored the various emptyhouses, returning from their expeditions with different householdarticles left by the former occupants as worthless, but which servedus a purpose in furnishing our table and kitchen. But day by day ourtemporary supplies lessened, and with all the faith we could call toour aid, we could not but feel somewhat anxious. A crop of wheatraised on the place the preceding summer had been stored, unthreshed, in some of the empty buildings, and this, at last, came to be our onlydependence. The mill on the property had, of course, been frozen up, and only after hours of hard work, could my husband and boys so farclear it of ice, as to succeed in making flour, and such flour! I havealways regretted that we did not preserve a specimen for exhibitionand chemical analysis, for verily the like was never seen before, andI defy any one of our great Minneapolis mills to produce an imitationof it. The wheat was very smutty, and having no machinery to remedythis evil, all efforts to cleanse it proved unsatisfactory, but thecompound prepared from it which we called _bread_, was so rarelyobtainable, as to be looked upon as a luxury. Our daily "staff oflife" was unground wheat. A large number of Chippewa Indians were encamped about us most of thetime, and not being able to hunt successfully, on account of the verydeep snow, were driven to great extremity, and sometimes, acting onthe well established principle, that "self-preservation is the firstlaw of nature, " broke in the windows of our extemporized granaries, and helped themselves to grain. They were welcome to it under thecircumstances, but in obtaining it they had broken in the windows, andhad mixed glass with it to such an extent that it was unsafe for fooduntil we had picked it all over, grain by grain. This process was ourdaily occupation and amusement. I distinctly recall the scene in ourdining-room, when all the available members of the family were seatedaround a long pine table, with a little pile of wheat before each, replenished from time to time from the large heap in the center, working away industriously, conversing cheerfully, telling interestingand amusing stories, singing songs, never complaining, but allmanifesting a feeling of gratitude that we still saw before us whatwould support life, for, at least, a while longer; and taking heartand strength to endure, in the hope that before this, our lastresource was exhausted, we should receive our long expected supplies, which were somewhere on the way to us. This wheat was boiled, andeaten with salt, the only seasoning of any kind we had; no butter, nomilk, no meat, nothing, and yet we never can forget the intense relishwith which our children partook of it, one of them remarking, on oneoccasion, "Mother, how good this wheat is; I wish you would write toAnn Arbor and tell the boys there of it; I don't believe they know. " Alittle child was teaching us, and the amount of strength and comfortimparted to us by such a manifestation of perfect contentment, gratitude and trust can never be computed in words. We realized inthose days, as never before, the full force and beauty of theIcelandic custom: living in the midst of dangers seen and unseen, these people, we are told, every morning open the outer door, andlooking reverently up to Heaven, thank God they are still alive. Sowhen with each returning day we saw our children safe and well, ourfirst feeling was, gratitude that the Eternal God, who was our onlyrefuge, had not removed from underneath us His everlasting arms. The nearest settlement of any kind was "Swan River, " on theMississippi, but we were so completely blockaded with snow, that noteam could possibly get through. Two or three times during thatmemorable winter, our oldest son, a boy of eighteen years, made thetrip on snow-shoes, at the risk of his life, to get our mail, andlearn, if possible, something from our supplies. The round trip was athree days' journey, and there being no stopping place or house of anykind on the route, he, of course, was obliged to camp out one night. Our anxiety during his absence was terrible, and we remember vividlyour overpowering sense of relief, when, at the close of the third day, long before his form was discernible, some familiar song in his clearringing tones, broke on the still night air, to assure the dear homefolks he was safe and well. Like the man whose business was so urgenthe could not stop to rest, but now and then picked up a stone andcarried it some distance, then threw it down, and went on relieved andencouraged, so we, when we laid down this burden of anxiety feltrested and better able to bear our daily trials. It is due to our only neighbors, the Indians, to say that they were byno means troublesome, that our intercourse with them was pleasant, andto some of them we became much attached. A great chief's wife was afrequent visitor at our house, her little son, of perhaps eightwinters being her invariable attendant. On one occasion having misseda small case-knife of rather peculiar formation, which was in dailyuse, I ventured to ask her if the little lad had taken it to theirwigwam, it occurred to me he might have done so, innocently to show tosome of his family, in whose honesty I had implicit faith. The oldwoman drew herself up to her full height, and with a grace and dignitywhich would have done honor to the mother of the Gracchi, said, in allthe expressiveness of her native tongue: "_The son of Ne-ba-quumcannot steal!_" In real admiration and reverent contrition, I laid myhand on the injured mother's shoulder, and explained my meaning. Sheaccepted my apology fully and graciously, giving me her hand, in tokenthat my error was condoned, and you will readily believe it was neverrepeated. Through all the years of our residence at Long Prairie sheand her family were always welcome guests at our house, when in theirwanderings they came that way, and when, during our late war, herbrave, loyal husband's offers to assist us in our struggle, werecontemptuously scorned by one of our Generals, and the mortified, broken-hearted old chieftain, unable to bear up under such an insult, went to the "happy hunting grounds, " we sincerely mourned the loss ofour staunch and honored friend, Ne-ba-quum. Some time in January, our five year old boy was very suddenly seizedwith pleurisy in its most violent form, and for hours he seemed inmortal agony. We had no efficient remedies, no doctor within thirty, perhaps fifty miles, and to complicate matters, I had lain down sickfor the first time, thoroughly vanquished by fatigue and unusualexposure. But that sickness of mine had to be postponed, and we foughtall that night with the fearful disease, using vigorously all theexternal remedies within our reach, cupping the dear child withinexperienced hands, but prayerful hearts, leaning entirely upon God, who, when we cried unto Him in our distress, heard and mercifullyregarded our cries. The acute and agonizing symptoms of the attackwere subdued, but lung fever supervened, and for four weeks our dearboy lay very near death. His form wasted, his hands, through extremeattenuation, became almost translucent, and we could only watch andpray, and use all the means in our power to alleviate his sufferings. I recall the seasons of family worship around that sick bed, when wewere drawn so near the All-pitying Father that we could talk with Him, as a man talketh with his friend, when the loving Savior made us feelthat He was near us to sympathize with us, and the Blessed Comforterbrooded over us, and spoke peace to our sorrowing hearts, so that wecould say, "Thy will be done, " and from our hearts could sing: "_Ill_ that God blesses is our _good_, And unblest _good_ is ill; And all is right, that seems most wrong, If it be His dear will. "When obstacles and trials seem Like prison walls to be; We'll do the little we can do, And leave the rest to Thee. " During this trying time, our stock of candles was nearly exhausted, and our weary watchings were only lighted by a sense of God'spresence. So with our hand on the dear sufferer, and our ear attentiveto his breathing, his father and I sat beside him, lighting our candleonly when absolutely necessary, and felt as none can feel until theyhave tested it, the sustaining grace and Infinite love of the BlessedWatcher, who never slumbers nor sleeps. He granted us sweet thoughtsof His love and precious promises, which were to us as songs in thenight, and under the shadow of His wings, our hearts were kept inperfect peace. Thanks to the Great Healer, a change for the bettercame, and then occurred a strange thing, that has always seemed to medirectly Providential. During a bitter wind and blinding snow storm, some snow birds tookrefuge in our wood-shed and were caught by the Indian boys. At thesuggestion of our oldest son, who had read somewhere the story of asick child and her Canaries, these little refugees were brought intothe nursery and soon became perfectly tame, flying all about the sickboy's head, lighting on his hands, and amusing and resting himwonderfully. For several days the storm continued, and we shelteredthe little creatures, our invalid growing better so rapidly as toexcite our surprise. But at last there came a mild bright day, and weturned them out to find their companions. Why was it that they flewonly a few rods and then fell dead? To us it seemed that these littlewinged messengers had been driven to us in our extremity by the furyof the storm as healing agents, and had given their lives for ourchild's. The question now arose, where shall we find suitable food forour convalescent? There seemed no possible help for us, but webelieved it would come. One morning as I sat wondering how this wouldbe brought about, my dear brother came in, and handing me a fresh laidegg, said: "I did not know there was a fowl on the place, but itseems that an old superannuated hen, who doubtless has lived in thewheat all winter has suddenly been aroused to a sense of her duty, andthis is the result. " Had the golden egg, famous in fable, beenpresented in his other hand for my choice, it would have been to me nobetter than a chip, but the treasure he brought me was of pricelessvalue, and I received it gratefully as a gift from God. It furnished awhole day's nourishment for our exhausted, feeble little boy, and forthree days he was supplied in the same way; then, just as he was morehungry than ever, and when it was evident he never could regain hisstrength without nourishment, the supply ceased. We waited andtrusted, and in a day or two our son found a fine pheasant, which hadevidently lost its way, sitting in the snow, wondering, perhaps, whereall its companions were, and why the berries were all gone. Where itcame from we never knew, but we do know that there never was sodelicious a bird eaten. It was reserved for the sick child, but asmall piece was given to each of the other children, and not one ofthem will ever forget the taste of that precious morsel. By the timethis nutritious supply was exhausted, our invalid was so much betteras to be able to do his share of picking over wheat, and of eatingthis simple but very healthful diet. Soon after this the wheat ran low, the long hard winter had told uponus all, and we seemed to need more substantial food as we had neverneeded it before. Day after day we managed to prepare something thatsustained life, but I had a nursing child, and supporting myself andhim too, almost solely upon a wheat diet, had been hard on me and Iwas much exhausted. We did not lose faith; the spirit was willing, butthe flesh was growing weak. I sat one morning after our simplebreakfast, with my precious baby in my lap, wondering on what I shouldfeed the dear ones at noon, as scarcely anything remained. Thechildren were full of glee in their unconscious ignorance, and I mustnot, by a word of repining, shake their sweet trust and faith. Oureldest son sat near me, reading my thoughts, but saying nothing, onlyconveying by a loving look his sympathy, when, suddenly, a shadowdarkened the window; he looked up quickly, and said: "Mother, lookthere!" I looked, and directly at our door were two sleds heavilyladen with our long-looked for supplies! Then came the first tears Ihad shed that winter. I could not speak, but my over-wrought feelingsfound most salutary relief in those blessed, grateful tears. There wasdanger that the powerful reaction would overcome me entirely, but verysoon every member of the little colony knew that relief had come, andthe work of unloading the sleds, opening boxes, and unheading barrels, was carried on with such ardor, as to leave no chance for such aresult, especially as we learned that the teamsters had had nobreakfast, that they had been three days coming 28 miles; had beenobliged to shovel their way through great drifts, a few rods at atime, and had reached us thoroughly worn out and exhausted. Then camethe preparation of that wonderful breakfast. No need that a priestshould burn frankincense and myrrh, sending up our orisons in thesmoke thereof. The odor of that frying pork, the aroma of thatdelicious coffee, the perfume of that fragrant tea went up to heaven, full freighted with thanksgiving and praise. No need that a Presidentor Governor should proclaim a day when we should return thanks in viewof God's great goodness; it proclaimed itself, and every human beingwithin our reach was bidden to our thanksgiving feast. Our supplies were ample and varied, and 3 o'clock found a largecompany seated around a table loaded with excellent, well-cooked food, of which all partook with a gusto most flattering and gratifying tothe cook, who was glad to retire to her room with her baby, when themeal was over and rest on her laurels, while the young people dancedand made merry in very gladness of heart. Night closed around a little settlement of thoroughly grateful, happyhuman beings. What if it was still cold, and there must yet be manystormy days? No fear of suffering or starvation. God had not forgottenus, and we should never cease to trust Him. I could not sleep for veryjoy, and the delicious sense of relief from anxiety on the score ofproviding for the daily meals. I seemed to see in the darkness, inilluminated letters, "Jehovah _Jireh_, " and felt He had abundantlyverified his blessed promise. [B] In due time the days grew longer and warmer; the snow melted. Largeflocks of wild geese passing northward over our heads assured us, withtheir unmusical but most welcome notes, that the long winter of '56and '57 was over and gone. The ground was broken up, crops wereplanted, and everything gave promise of a favorable season. Our home, in its lovely, fresh robes of green, was enchanting, and we felt thatthe lines had indeed fallen unto us in pleasant places. But as we takepleasant walks through our happy valley, what means this unusual soundthat arrests our footsteps? It is like the pattering of gentle summerrain, and yet the sky is clear and cloudless; no drops fall. What canit be? Ah! see that moving in the grass! We stoop to examine, and findmyriads of strange-looking insects hardly larger than fleas. They mustbe--yes, they are, _young grasshoppers_. And now may God help us! forwe are powerless to arrest their depredations. Day by day they grewand increased, until they covered everything; fields of wheat whichpromised a bountiful harvest were eaten up so completely that not agreen blade or leaf was left; gardens were entirely demolished;screens of cloth put over hot-beds for protection were eaten asgreedily as the plants themselves, and the rapidity with which theydid their destructive work was amazing. So faded away all our hopes ofraising anything available that year, and we watched and waited. Butone bright June morning there was a movement and an unusual sound. Werushed to see the cause, and beheld our dire enemy rising in masses, like a great army with banners! They passed over us, making our homefor a time the "land shadowing with wings, " and finally disappeared inthe south. With lightened hearts and willing hands we went to work, replanted some things, and labored thankfully, hopefully andsuccessfully to provide for the next winter. The experience of the past had taught us much. We felt our heartsstronger and richer for its lessons, and we all look back on thatmemorable time as something we would not willingly have missed out ofour lives, for we learned that one may be reduced to great straits, may have few or no external comforts, and yet be very happy, with thatsatisfying, independent happiness which outward circumstances cannotaffect. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote B: Soon after this great deliverance, the Blackfoot Indianswho belonged to our little colony became discontented and homesick fortheir hunting grounds among the Rocky Mountains, and made theirpreparations for an exodus so secretly that we were taken entirely bysurprise when one evening they were all missing. They had taken theirwomen and children and as much of their stuff as they could carry ontwo or three horses, and turned their backs upon us, permanently, asthey supposed. Immediately our oldest son started in pursuit, and wewatched him with a field-glass as long as we could see, and then bythe lights he struck from time to time, as he went farther and fartheraway, to enable him to see their tracks or the votive offerings to thesun which they had placed on the shrubs and bushes by the wayside asthey journeyed westward. At the close of the second day he found themencamped near a stream making snow-shoes, and so uncertain as to theirroute to the home they loved and pined for, as to be somewhatdisheartened. A few persuasive words from the lad, who understoodtheir ways thoroughly, with a promise that they should return to theirmountains when the warm weather came, prevailed, and they came back tothe Prairie somewhat subdued and not a little chagrined at theirfailure. ] _CHAPTER XVIII. _ MALCOLM CLARK. A few years ago, Colonel Wilbur F. Sanders, President of theHistorical Society of Montana, justly claiming my brother as one ofthe earliest pioneers of Montana Territory, requested me to furnishthe society with a sketch of his life, feeling that without it, therecords would be incomplete. His career was peculiar, and in order that those who come after us mayhave a correct account of it, I insert here the substance of thesketch prepared at the request of Colonel Sanders: My brother Malcolm Clark was the oldest child of our parents and theironly son. He was born July 22d, 1817, at Fort Wayne, Indiana. When hewas two years old our home was at Fort Snelling, where we remained foreight years. He was a handsome, bright-eyed, brave and venturesomeboy, and soon began to develop a very decided taste for field sportsof all kinds, becoming a ready pupil and prime favorite of CaptainMartin Scott, widely known as the veritable Nimrod of those days. Hewas constantly running risks even in his plays, and had somemiraculous escapes. But his fortitude and endurance of pain were veryremarkable, and his great ambition was to bear himself under allcircumstances like a true soldier. One of my earliest recollections of him is seeing him mounted on hisbeautiful pony, riding without saddle or bridle, his arms extended, his eyes flashing, and his soft brown hair waving in the wind. Thisearly training in daring horsemanship made him, as all who knew himcan testify, a perfect rider. He was very quick to resent anythingthat looked like an imposition, or an infringement of his rights, itmattered not who was the aggressor. On one occasion, during thetemporary absence of the Surgeon, he fell and cut his mouth so badlythat it was feared the injury might be very serious. Colonel Snelling, who had some knowledge of surgery, volunteered torepair the damaged feature, but when he attempted to use the needle, Malcolm, who felt he was not duly authorized, refused to let him touchit, shaking his tiny fist in his face, by way of menace. The Colonellaughingly retreated, and recommended sticking-plaster, which answeredan admirable purpose. A few years later I assisted the Surgeon in dressing a wound whichMalcolm had accidentally inflicted on his own arm with a knife, and, although the operation of probing and cleansing it was perfecttorture, he submitted to it patiently and without a sound ofcomplaint. He was a loving, affectionate boy, full of real chivalry and truenobility. Being next in age, I was his constant companion, and hiskind, loving consideration of me is deeply impressed upon me. When forsome years Cincinnati was our home, he attended a classical school inthat city, taught by Alexander Kinmont, a Scotchman, somewhatcelebrated as an educator of boys, and by his high sense of honor andhis engaging manners he endeared himself to his teacher and fellowpupils. He had a real reverence for his female associates; indeed, hisideas of womanhood, in general, were very exalted. He guarded me mostsacredly from anything which might offend my sense of delicacy, andwas ready to do battle with any one who spoke slightingly of a lady. At one time a young school-mate made some improper remarks concerninga young girl acquaintance of Malcolm's, who bade him take back hiswords. On his refusing to do this, my brother seized the fellow, whowas larger and stouter than he, and gave him a pretty severepunishment, receiving himself, however, a bad cut on his head fromfalling on a sharp stone. But neither the pain of his wound nor therebukes of his friends could make him feel that he had done anythingmore than justice, and he bore his sufferings with the spirit of aknight who had been wounded in defense of his "faire ladye. " While atschool he manifested a marked talent for public speaking, and took thehighest rank in elocution in the Kinmont Academy, and I think that allthrough his life this gift of eloquence gave him a power over thosewith whom he mingled. I recall distinctly my sisterly pride in himwhen at an exhibition he delivered that wonderful speech of MarcAntony over the dead body of Cæsar; and when the terrible news of histragical death reached me, I seemed to hear again the infinite pathosof his voice in the words, "And thou, Brutus!" The man whotreacherously took his precious life had been to him as a son, hadshared his home, and received from him nothing but favors. Well mighthe have exclaimed, "And thou, Ne-tus-cho!" as e'en under theprotecting shadow of his own home the brave man fell, pierced by thedeadly ball. At seventeen he was entered at West Point, where, owingto his early military associations and training, he stood well as acapable, well-drilled soldier, and was soon put in command of acompany. In this capacity he acquitted himself in such a way as to winthe approval of his superior officers and the confidence of his fellowCadets. But one of his company, who had been derelict in duty and had beenreported accordingly, accused him of making a false report, and thisin those days was an accusation not to be borne. Consequently myimpetuous brother, with a mistaken sense of honor, fostered by theteachings and usages of fifty years ago, sent the young man achallenge. Instead of accepting or declining it, he took it to theCommandant, thus placing himself in a most unfavorable light. The next morning at breakfast roll-call my brother stepped out beforehis company, and, seizing his adversary by the collar, administered tohim a severe flogging with a cowhide. This, of course, was a casethat called for a court-martial, the result of which was my brother'sdismissal, the sentence, however, recommending him to mercy. It wasintimated to him by some high in authority that by making properconcessions he would be reinstated. This he would not do, and took theconsequences. In the light of the great improvement in public sentiment with regardto such matters, the young man's course must be condemned, but greatallowance must be made for the code of honor in force at that time, and nowhere so strenuously insisted on, as in military circles. Several duels had been fought between the officers at Fort Snellingwhile that was our home, and Malcolm had heard with delight and awe ofthe prowess of his hero, Captain Scott, who, as already narrated inthese records, had soon after his appointment in the regular armygiven a final quietus to a young West Point officer who had snubbedand insulted the Green Mountain boy, whose career opened in avolunteer regiment in the war of 1812, instead of at the MilitaryAcademy. These influences account for, and in a great measure excusemy rash brother's conduct in this affair. We deeply deplored thisevent, which changed the whole tenor of his life; and yet, there lieson my table as I write, his defense before the military tribunal, andI confess to a thrill of pride as I read the manly, fearless, yetthoroughly respectful and courteous document, and I feel very surethat a most efficient, high-minded officer was lost to the service, when my brave, true brother suffered the penalty of a boyish folly. Soon after this he started for Texas to join the desperate men therein their struggle for independence. During his journey to the "Lone Star" State a characteristic incidentoccurred which may be worthy of mention. On the voyage from NewOrleans to Galveston, the Captain of the ship refused to keep hisagreement with his passengers in regard to furnishing ice and otherabsolute necessaries, thus endangering their health and making theirsituation thoroughly unendurable. After unsuccessful efforts to bringthe Captain to reason, my brother took command himself, placed theCaptain, heavily ironed, in close confinement, and thus landed inGalveston. Then he released his prisoner, and repaired immediately toGeneral Sam Houston's quarters to give himself up for mutiny on thehigh seas. His story had preceded him, and, on presenting himself, thePresident exclaimed: "What! is this beardless boy the desperatemutineer of whom you have been telling me?" And, after inquiring intothe affair, feeling thoroughly convinced that, according to the lawsof self-defense, my brother's conduct was justifiable, dismissed him, with some very complimentary remarks on his courageous behavior. Theyoung hero was loudly cheered by the populace, and borne on theirshoulders in triumph to his hotel. He soon after received a commission in the Texan army, where heserved faithfully till the war was ended, and then returned toCincinnati, at that time our widowed mother's home. While in the Southwest, he was one day riding entirely alone through awilderness, in some part of Texas, I think, when he saw in thedistance, riding directly towards him, his old West Point antagonist, who had so far lost caste at that institution as to be obliged toresign about the time of my brother's dismissal. He had learned thatMalcolm was in the country, whither he also had drifted, and hadthreatened to take his life, if ever he crossed his path. My brother, knowing of this threat, of course, concluded that when he met hisenemy there would be a deadly encounter. Both were heavily armed;Malcolm had two pistols, but had discharged one at a prairie hen ashort time before, and had forgotten which one was still loaded. Itwould not do to make investigations in the very face of his foe; sowith his hand on one of them, and his keen eye firmly fixed on theman, he rode on, determined not to give one inch of the road. Thusthey approached each other, neither yielding; my brother's steady gazenever relaxing, till just as their mules almost touched one another, his enemy gave the road, and Malcolm went on, feeling that veryprobably his foe would shoot him from behind, but never looking back, till, by a turn in the road, he knew he was out of sight, when he drewa long breath, and felt that he had been in a pretty tight place. Thenext news he had of his adversary was, that he had been killed in adrunken row in some town in Texas. Failing to find in Cincinnati, business congenial to his taste, mybrother obtained, through our father's life-long friend, Captain JohnCulbertson, an appointment in the American Fur Company, and went toone of their stations on the Upper Missouri. At this time he was justtwenty-four years old; at the time of his death he was fifty-two, sothat more than half his life was spent in the Indian country. Thestory of his life in the Far West is full of incident. Soon after hisarrival in the Blackfoot country he won the name of Ne-so-ke-i-u (theFour Bears), by killing four Grizzlies one morning before breakfast, which remarkable feat gave him high rank in the estimation of thetribe. How he traded successfully among these Indians, in all casesstudying their best interests; how he came to be looked upon as agreat and powerful chief; how he identified himself with them bymarrying among them; how, by his deeds of daring, his many miraculousescapes, his rare prowess and skill, and his wonderful personalinfluence over them, he obtained the dignity of a "_Medicine Man_, " inwhom they professed implicit faith and confidence, are facts wellknown to all who knew him. And, how, when the eager, grasping whites encroached upon theirterritory, seeing before them the fate that had befallen all the othertribes among whom white settlements had been opened up, these Indiansfeared that this man, whose hair had whitened among them, would takepart with his own people against them, and made a foul conspiracyagainst his life, treacherously stilling the heart that had beat withkindness and affection for them, are grievous facts in the history ofhis beloved Montana, on which I need not and cannot dwell. In sketching the record of this life from early childhood to itstragic ending, I seem to see again before me my beautiful, bright-eyedbrother, a boy of whom I was very proud, and who was, to me, theembodiment of everything brave, and manly, and true. I follow him inhis eventful life, and while I realize that his impetuosity sometimesled him to do things which were not wise, and which he afterwardsregretted, yet above all these errors and mistakes, rises the memoryof his unswerving integrity; his fidelity to his friends; his highsense of honor, between man and man; his almost womanly tendernesstowards those whom he loved; his rare culture and refinement; hisaffable, genial and courteous manners; his hospitality andlarge-heartedness, --all entitling him richly, to "Bear without abuse, The grand old name of gentleman. " _CHAPTER XIX. _ Long Prairie was our home for five years which though not unmixed withtrial and sorrow, were happy years. Some few neighbors settled in andaround the Prairie, and the visits of lumbering and surveying parties, passing to and fro, made a pleasant variety in our simple life. Wewere directly on the route over which the Indians, both Sioux andChippewas travelled as they went for game or scalps; but they behavedthemselves circumspectly, except when bad white men crept into thesettlement and made them crazy with "fire water. " This infamoustraffic we resisted to the extent of our power, and on one occasionblood was drawn on both sides, but no lives were lost. We alwaystreated the Indians well, dealing fairly with them as with white men, and they looked upon us as their friends. At one time, however, rumorsof danger warned us to take measures to insure our safety; and weapplied to Floyd, then Secretary of War, for military protection, theresult of which step was, that some soldiers were quartered at thePrairie for the winter of '58 and '59, and we dismissed our fears. Captain Frederick Steele and Lieutenant Joseph Conrad were theofficers in command of the detachment, and proved most agreeableneighbors, making our winter very enjoyable. The former of these, ourfriends, was a General during the war of the Rebellion, and lost hislife in the service; the latter, now a Major, is still doing goodservice as a gallant and efficient soldier. The next winter we had the protection of Lieutenant Latimer and hiscompany from Fort Ridgley, a most genial and whole-souled Southerngentleman, who endeared himself to us by his frank kindly manners. Gen. Irwin McDowell, inspecting officer, made us a charming visitduring this winter, and by his kindly, unassuming manner, won allhearts, while his splendid form and manly beauty made an impression onus never to be effaced. He survived the war, but died in the prime oflife, sincerely mourned by a large circle of friends and fellowsoldiers. Possibly we might have spent our lives at Long Prairie, but for thebombardment of Fort Sumter, on the eventful 12th of April, 1861, whosevibrations thrilled the whole North, and reaching us in our pastoralhome, changed entirely our plans and purposes. When our youngest boywas twenty-four hours old, his father went to St. Paul, in obedienceto a summons from Governor Ramsey, and was soon after commissionedColonel of the "2d" Regiment of Minnesota Volunteers, which wasrendezvoused at Fort Snelling for thorough organization and drill. Assoon as possible his family joined him there, and, once again mytemporary home was in the old Headquarters, and in memory I live mychildhood over again. The few weeks spent there were full ofexcitement and pleasant incidents, but over all, hung the dark shadowof the dreadful civil war, and hearts ached sorely, in spite of thebrave talk and smiling faces. Writing of those days I recall a pictureof the parade ground at the time of the sunset drum: the men areplaced by companies, the officers in proper position; many visitors, ladies and gentlemen, stand near; the drum beats, the flag is lowered;and, as the Chaplain steps forward, every head is uncovered, and heoffers the evening prayer to the God of battles. I am glad theyprayed; did they think of this when they gained the victory in thatfirst, fierce battle at Mill Spring? And there are those living, whowill recall that sad parting hour, when those brave men said, "Good-bye, and God bless you, " to their mothers, wives and children, and went forth with tearful eyes, and quivering lips to hazard theirlives for their country. It was a holy cause, and the women, too, werebrave, and would not hold them back, but entered willingly upon thatsad, weary time, when tears were shed till the fountains were dry;when prayers and groanings that could not be uttered, arose to heavenby day and by night, alike from luxurious homes, and from humblecottages, for the safety of the beloved ones, and the success of thesacred cause. The children felt it, too. A little curly-headed sevenyear old boy, whose father was at the front, waking one night fromtroubled sleep, stole softly to his mother's bedside, and kissing hertenderly, said, in a voice broken with sobs: "Mother, did you prayfor father to-night?" She replied: "Yes, my son, mother never forgetsthat. " "But, mother, are you sure?" "Yes, dear one. " "Well, mother, won't you kneel down here by me, and pray for him again?" and side byside, the two knelt humbly, the mother with her arms about the sobbingboy, while she prayed most earnestly for the precious one far away. Then, the dear child ceased his weeping, and kissing "mother" forherself and "father, " lay down to sleep again, saying: "Mother, Idon't think God will let the Southerners kill father. " And thus it wasall over the North. Mothers and children weeping and praying, andworking, to keep the home bright and comfortable for the soldier whenhe should come back. And many fair, smooth faces, grew pale and seamedwith care and anxiety, many brown heads turned to gray, and erectforms became bent as with years; and, alas! many hearts broke when thelist of "dead and wounded" reached the Northern homes. Oh! historymakes record of the heroes who fell fighting bravely, and of those whosurvived; of great deeds of daring done and suffering endured; butthere _were_ heroes who won no stars, who received no ovations, whosehistories were never written, and who none the less were martyrs totheir country. "But men must work, And women must weep; Though storms be sudden and waters deep; And the harbor-bar be moaning. " But God gave us the victory and our beloved country, aye, the wholeworld has made a forward move because of our heart-breaking, agonizingCivil War. _CHAPTER XX. _ After the breaking up at Long Prairie, a few months were spent by ourfamily in St. Paul, but in the early spring it seemed expedient toremove to "St Anthony, " which has ever since been our home. It was atthat time a very quiet village; very many of the young and vigorousmen were at the front, and business was at a standstill; property wasvery cheap, and real estate men had little or nothing to do. Minneapolis, on the west side of the river, was a small town, and hadany one predicted at that time that the city of Minneapolis would oneday become what it is now, he would have been regarded as a lunatic. The Indian outbreak of '62 stirred things up for a while, but thatpassed away, and the place resumed its sleepy condition, waking up nowand then at the news of a victory, or on the occasion of the return ofa regiment, to whom an ovation was tendered, when it became manifestthat there was a great deal of energy and power latent in thecommunity, which only needed an occasion to bring it out. But theimmense water power kept up its music, the mills ground flour andsawed logs and made paper, and, all unconsciously, we were growinggreat and preparing to become the wonder of the world. When the oldsettlers get together now-a-days, we like to talk of those pleasant, quiet times, when a ride in a stage to St. Paul was a treat, and atrip to Minnetonka in a double wagon, with provisions and campfixtures for a week's picnic, was delightful; when we caught fish inLake Harriet and cooked it at our camp-fire, and had a most enjoyabletime rowing on the lake, gathering pond lilies, singing songs, tellingstories, and taking in with every breath the delicious, invigoratingair of that most charming spot. And while rejoicing at the present state of things, so far in advanceof those times, we sometimes look back regretfully at the days when weseemed like one large family, with common interests, and weinvoluntarily breathe a sigh for those simple, primitive pleasures, that will be ours nevermore. No need for me to describe in these humble records the phenomenalgrowth of Minneapolis; it is known and read of all men, and the worldis startled at its rapid transition from a somewhat obscuremanufacturing town to a great and prosperous city, whose foundationsare so solid, and whose possibilities so great, that there seems nolimit to its progress. We who have watched it from infancy are justlyproud of our city, and it is certainly cause for congratulation thatso much time and thought and money are given to establishing andfostering benevolent institutions and charities of all kinds. Thepeople are large-hearted and ready to take hold of anything which hasfor its object the good of the community or the amelioration ofsuffering in any form. Witness our "Home for Children and Aged Women;"the beautiful "Washburn Home for Orphans;" the "NorthwesternHospital, " built by and under the care and management of women whohave been generously aided by the community in carrying on their work;the "Bethany Home" for fallen, outcast women and deserted babies, awork established by women in weakness and under discouragingcircumstances, but now carried on in a commodious building erected byone man who has lived many years in our city and has grown rich here. He has watched our work in this line for years, and his heart wasmoved to donate to the management of the "Home" the beautiful, convenient house and grounds on Bryant avenue, which shelters sad andbroken-hearted women and tender, helpless infants, and stands outclear against the beautiful background of woodland and blue sky, anenduring monument to his large-hearted generosity and his tender pityfor the weak and helpless. May God bless him and deal graciously withhim and all he loves. These are only a few of the various branches ofwork for the good of humanity, generously encouraged by our citizens, and the liberality with which societies, conventions and gatherings ofall kinds are welcomed and entertained by Minneapolitans astonishesall who see, read or hear of it. Those who saw the great Villardprocession and the meeting of the Grand Army of the Republic cannever forget them, and religious bodies of all sects and kinds whohave been received and cared for here, are loud in their praises oftheir hospitable entertainers. But better than all this is the earnest desire that we should becomegood, as well as great, as manifested in the numerous active societiesorganized for the purpose of overcoming and suppressing the evilsincident to large and prosperous cities; and the eloquent, earnest menof all religious denominations who labor faithfully as preachers andpastors for the highest good of the people are doing grand, efficientwork towards the accomplishment of this desire. And side by side with us, a little way down the river, is ourbeautiful twin sister, the city of St. Paul, to which by the power ofmutual attraction we are growing nearer day by day. The healthyrivalry which has existed between us since we began to grow hasbenefited both cities, and we now stand before the world phenomenal ingrowth, each year lengthening our cords and strengthening our stakes, with the sure prospect of becoming, in the near future, a mightymetropolis of the great and powerful Northwest. The tender friendships formed there by our family during the earlydays of the war grow stronger and more binding each year, and willlast through eternity; our children will tell to their children of thekindness rendered by dear ones in St. Paul to "father and mother"when they were in sore need of loving sympathy, and this legacy oflove will be very precious to them. I love to visit this neighboringcity, not only because of the warm friendships existing between us, but because that in some indescribable way it seems to have an armyatmosphere which makes me feel entirely at home. And sometimes, when, in passing through its streets, I come upon our old, staunch friend, General R. W. Johnson, the thoughts of Fort Snelling, where, yearsafter it ceased to be my home, he won the beautiful Miss Steele forhis bride, stir my heart with pleasant memories, and looking at himnow, a handsome, white-haired man, still erect and vigorous, I feelthat time has dealt very generously with him, and rejoice that afterhis many years of faithful service to his country he is still doinghis duty, and is most happily situated in every respect. And there isGeneral Bishop, one of my husband's "boys" of the brave MinnesotaSecond, the very sight of whose kindly face brings up thoughts of MillSpring and other battle fields on which he won his "eagle" and his"star, " and it gladdens my heart to feel that he, too, still in hisprime, is as brave and faithful a civilian as he was a soldier, andthat he has a beautiful, hospitable home, which is a rallying pointfor the survivors of the old regiment, which he loved so well andcommanded so successfully. And there are many other military menthere, whom it is an honor to know, and who, with the energy whichmade them successful soldiers, are working earnestly for the good ofSt. Paul, where they have made their homes. When the beautiful Edith, searching the field after the bloody battleof Hastings, found the body of her beloved, the last of the SaxonKings, she saw right over his heart, as she wiped the blood from hiswounded side, two words graven thereon: "Edith, " and beneath it"England. " So on my heart, among my precious things, stands"Minneapolis, " and just beneath it "St. Paul. " God bless them both andmake them truly good, as well as eminently great. _CHAPTER XXI. _ Looking over the quarter of a century that we have lived quietly andhappily in our Minneapolis home, I recall some very pleasantsatisfying incidents, notably a visit made by my husband and myself tothe lovely home of our only daughter in Honolulu, the capital of theHawaiian Kingdom. We were both enfeebled by sickness and He who hasbeen so gracious to us all our lives, knowing we had need of such achange, provided for it in an unexpected way. We left our home earlyin December, 1878 under the care of our son-in-law and daughter, and, journeying in the comfortable Pullman cars, took in the wonders andbeauties, so often described, of the overland route to San Francisco. It is needless for me to tell you of these wonders. Many travelershave so descanted upon them as to make them familiar to all, and yetno words can ever do them justice; they must be seen to becomprehended. Comprehended did I say? Ah! that can never be; theyoverwhelm and fill us with awe, make us very quiet, and incline ourhearts to silent worship of Him whose "works are manifold, and who, inwisdom, hath made them all. " As this magnificence unrolls before uslike a grand panorama, the deep, dark, rocky canons; the high, snow-capped mountains, sometimes blue and far away like a wondrouspicture, with a back ground of clear cloudless sky; the immenseplains, with no signs of life, broken here and there by gigantic rocksof most weird fantastic shapes; the picturesque villages, with theirchurch spires, distinct and well-defined against the high overhangingmountains, all combine to carry us out of ourselves, and to make usnot only wonder and adore the wisdom of God, but admire the skill andenergy of man, which, by God's help, has opened up these grandpictures, and enabled us to see and enjoy them. Very early on the morning of our last day's ride, we rounded "CapeHorn, " and halted, as is the custom, for all to have a sight of thatmasterpiece of the Great Architect. The mist still lay in the deepgorge and on the mountain sides, and all was perfect unbroken silence. Without a word we gazed enraptured on the glorious scene, and waited, as if expectant of some royal presence, to fill this magnificentthrone of God's own building. And as we look, behold the heralds! Andnow the King of Day himself, in his chariot of flame, comes forth overthe mountain-top, "as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, andrejoicing as a strong man to run a race. " At his presence, the mistsroll away; the mountain sides appear in all their rugged beauty; theAmerican River, like a silver thread, down deep in the mighty gorge, smiles brightly at the coming of the king, and accepting graciouslyits appointed task, "goes on and on forever. " That day's ride was the perfection of enjoyment, full of wonder andbeauty, and just as we reached the terminus, the great monarch whoserays had illumined our path all the way, sank gloriously to rest inthe "Golden Gate, " rendering our first view of the mighty oceanunspeakably grand. After spending ten days very pleasantly and satisfactorily in thegreat metropolis of the Pacific coast, our party of four embarked onthe United States mail steamship, "City of Sydney, " for the beautifulHawaiian Islands, two thousand miles away, in the midst of the sea, which we reached in the remarkably short time of a little less thanseven days, having made the quickest trip on record. Our voyage wasmost prosperous, and, with the exception of two days of rough weatherat the outset, very pleasant. The ship is a fine one, all itsappointments being everything that could be desired. The company wasintelligent and agreeable. Our party was happy in the anticipation ofseeing dear ones in Honolulu, and in the near realization of what hadbeen, to some of us, a beautiful dream for years. And were wedisappointed? Oh, no! No picture of our imagination had ever been sobright, so beautiful as that spread out before us, as our gallant shipsailed majestically through the coral reef into the beautiful harborof Honolulu. It was like entering a new world; everything was brightwith tropical splendor. The mountains, in whose hearts had slumberedvolcanic fires, which, from time to time, had burst forth, lighting upthe great ocean with Tartarean brilliancy, and scattering red-hot lavafar and wide, now stood up in sublime composure, like ramparts ofprotection to the lovely island formed by the upheaval. The tall cocoa-nut palms, crowned with their feathery tufts; the richfoliage of the various trees; the gorgeous blossoms; the picturesque, gaily-dressed natives in their arrowy canoes, with luscious fruits, orspecimens of coral, shells, and other treasures of the deep; theinnumerable little bronze figures darting in and out of the water forbits of coin thrown to them from the deck; and, above all, the dearones, with happy faces and eager, outstretched hands, awaiting, withloving impatience, the moment of our landing, formed a tableau, which, illumined by the soft, glowing, dreamy atmosphere, made a photographin my memory which time nor distance can ever efface. Our ride throughthe city, up the Nu-u-an-u valley, was one continued surprise andwonder, a bright vision, from which we surely must awaken to soberreality. We knew that, by the almanac, it was the last day but one of the oldyear, midwinter, a time of frost and snow, and surely these brilliantoleanders, these great scarlet geraniums, these bright hedges of themany-colored Lantana were but a fairy scene which might vanish anymoment and leave the trees bare and the flowers withered. But when weentered the charming grounds about our children's home, where we wereto spend some months, resting and gaining health and vigor, we werefain to believe that it was all real, and that we should sit day afterday on the broad veranda, and look at the royal palms, the gracefulalgeroba, the wide-spreading umbrella trees, the truly regalbougainvillia, with its wealth of purple blossoms, the Mexican vine, covered with rose-colored sprays, the soft velvet turf, and theexquisite ferns, and we thanked God that he had brought us, safely andhappily, to so beautiful a haven. Everything about us was so charminga suggestion of Paradise, that even now, after the lapse of manyyears, the memory of the six months spent in that gem of the Pacific, comes to us freighted with a sense of sweetness and peace that savorsof the rest of Heaven. The society of Honolulu, representing many different nationalities, isexceptionally intelligent and cultivated. The climate is simplyperfect, the mercury ranging from 60° to 80° the year round; deliciousfruits, lovely flowers and spice bearing shrubs abound. The soil isvery fertile and favorable to the production of the best of sugarcane, a high grade of coffee and excellent rice, which are the stapleproductions and a source of great profit to the islands. A mostnutritious and satisfying vegetable universally cultivated there, isthe Taro, which is to the native Hawaiian what the potato is to theIrishman. Poverty is unknown there, every one has a competence, someare wealthy. Education is compulsory, churches and school houses arenumerous, and in every way adequate to the needs of the community. Thereigning King, Kalakaua, is not as wise and strong as Solomon, and formany years has been in the hands of an intriguing Cabinet, which hasbeen a source of anxiety to those who love the little kingdom, anddesire to see it prosper, but it is very gratifying to be able tostate, that the evils so much dreaded have been entirely averted, andthe government placed in a better condition than it has enjoyed formany years. This was brought about in a proper and orderly way, by thedecisive action of the law-abiding citizens, who have formed anentirely new Cabinet, altered for the better the Constitution, andestablished a limited monarchy. This change took place only a fewmonths ago, and already its beneficial effects are clearly manifest. The prospects for the islands were never better, and it is sincerelyto be hoped by all who wish well to the human race that Hawaii-nei maylong continue to prosper in every way, and to send light and gladnessto the peoples of the insular countries which are scattered likelovely gems all over the beautiful blue ocean. _CHAPTER XXII. _ THE GOLDEN WEDDING. In the month of March, 1886, we sent to our many friends far and nearthe following invitation, and the hearty response which we receivedmade March 22d a day never to be forgotten by ourselves and ourchildren: _Lieutenant Horatio Phillips Van Cleve, U. S. A. , and Charlotte Ouisconsin Clark, _ MARRIED _March 22d, 1836, Fort Winnebago, Michigan Territory. _ ------ _General and Mrs. H. P. Van Cleve, _ AT HOME _March 22d, 1886, 603 Fifth Street S. E. , From 3 until 10 o'clock P. M. _ _No presents. _ The weather seemed as if made for the occasion, the sun shone brightlytill its setting, and the old house, which has been our home so long, that we all love it, in spite of its old-fashioned appearance and itsentire lack of style, was fitly prepared and adorned by loving hands. A thatched roof over the bay window, prettily arranged, bearing on itsfront the dates "1836" and "1886" in carnations of two colors, made acanopy under which the old man and woman were to sit and receive thecongratulations of their friends. Over the mantel, opposite them, werearranged the battle flags of the beloved Second Regiment of MinnesotaVolunteers, with the sword and sash and insignia of rank of itsColonel, who led them into battle, and the house was tastefully drapedwith the "stars and stripes" and many beautiful, significant emblemssent by friends and children. A beautiful bank of fifty goldenrosebuds on a background of green, baskets of lovely, fragrantflowers, one of orange blossoms from Oakland, California, a potcontaining a tall Bermuda lily with two large blossoms and severalbuds, and many bouquets of rich, rare flowers gave to thereception-room a brightness and loveliness which cannot be fitlydescribed. At 3 o'clock the survivors of the old regiment came in, under command of our dear friend, General J. W. Bishop, of St. Paul, bringing hearty congratulations to their old Colonel, and after ashort time spent in a pleasant converse, the General, in a mostappropriate address presented to him, whom they honored, an elegantgold-headed cane, bearing the inscription: "Presented to General H. P. Van Cleve by surviving members of the Second Regiment, MinnesotaVeteran Volunteer Infantry, Golden Wedding, March 22, 1886. " This wasa perfect surprise, and the gift was acknowledged in a few fittingwords. After a pleasant chat of old war experiences and some lightrefreshments the veterans said "good-bye" and departed, leaving verygrateful, pleasant thoughts in the hearts of those whom their presencehad honored and made glad. Another surprise awaited us. Our littlegrandchild Pauline Van Cleve, a year and a half old, side by side withher cousin Rebecca, a few months older, toddled up to "grandma" andpresented her with a cluster of fourteen golden rosebuds, one for eachgrandchild, and our granddaughter Charlotte Van Cleve recited verysweetly "The Old Man and His Bride, " by Dr. Holland. Many sweet poemsand loving letters from friends far and near, and many valuable, beautiful presents from dear ones, testified their love and kindregard for us, and are treasured by us among our most precious things, to be highly valued by our children when we shall have passed away. Cake and coffee were served through the evening, the fruit cake beingbaked in the same pan which was used fifty years before, when I, agirl of sixteen, made my "wedding cake. " It has been in constant useever since, and is a plain affair which shows the marks of time, butwhich, with ordinary care, will last through at least anothergeneration. Our friend, Rev. Dr. Neill, spoke to us in his usual felicitousmanner, and his address was full of pleasant reminiscences. Ourpastor, Rev. Dr. Stryker, recited a poem composed by himself for theoccasion, and the evening passed most enjoyably, and, with manywishes that we might keep our diamond wedding, our friends bade us"good night" and went their several ways. Then came to us a full realization that we had walked beside eachother half a century, and our thoughts went back to the old quartersat Fort Winnebago, where side by side we stood in the freshness ofyouth, with life all before us, and promised "to have and to hold fromthis day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, insickness and in health, to love and cherish each other till death usdo part, " and as we looked into each other's eyes, heart answered toheart, "We have kept our vows. " "And looking backward through the years Along the way our feet have pressed, We see sweet places everywhere-- Sweet places, where our souls had rest. For though some human hopes of ours Are dead and buried from our sight, Yet from their graves immortal flowers Have sprung, and blossomed into light. Our sorrows have not been so light, God's chastening hand we could not trace; Nor have our blessings been so great That they have hid our Father's face. " And we thanked Him that He "had mercifully ordained that we shouldgrow old together. " And now, laying down my pen, I say to all who havefollowed me through these memories: "Good night, dear friends. Godbless you every one. " * * * * * Transcriber's Notes The Table of Contents does not appear in the original book. Minor punctuation errors and the following typos in the original bookhave been corrected to reflect the author's intention. Pg. 23: Hzzaard to Hazard (son-in-law, Mr. Hazard, )Pg. 42: lenghtening to lengthening (lengthening shadows)Pg. 60: parent's to parents' (parents' murder)Pg. 78: off to of (telling of the Sioux scalps)Pg. 105-106: decased to deceased (respect for the deceased, this)Pg. 115: fondnes to fondness (for consistency; fondness on pg. 28)Pg. 160: nd to And (And the harbor-bar be moaning. ") The following inconsistencies were left as is. Pg. 56: Mrs. Apthorp's seminaryPg. 102: "Mrs. Apthorpe's School for Young Ladies" Pg. 34: Mitch-ele-mack-i-nackPg. 101: Mich-e-li-mac-i-nac All other questionable spellings were left as in the original book.