Wau-bun, the Early Day in the Northwest - Chapters 34-Appendix



CHAPTER XXXIV.
FORT HOWARD--OUR RETURN HOME.

We soon learned that a great panic prevailed at Green Bay on account of
the Sauks. The people seemed to have possessed themselves with the idea
that the enemy would visit this place on their way to Canada to put
themselves under the protection of the British Government. How they were
to get there from this point--whether they were to stop and fabricate
themselves bark canoes for the purpose, or whether they were to charter
one of Mr. Newbery's schooners for the trip, the good people did not seem
fully to have made up their minds. One thing is certain, a portion of the
citizens were nearly frightened to death, and were fully convinced that
there was no safety for them but within the walls of the old dilapidated
fort, from which nearly all the troops had been withdrawn and sent to Fort
Winnebago some time previous.

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Their fears were greatly aggravated by a report, brought by some
traveller, that he had slept at night on the very spot where the Sauks
breakfasted the next morning. Now, as the Sauks were known to be reduced
to very short commons, there was every reason to suppose that if the man
had waited half an hour longer they would have eaten him; so he was
considered to have made a wonderful escape.

Our immediate friends and acquaintances were far from joining in these
fears. The utter improbability of such a movement was obvious to all who
considered the nature of the country to be traversed, and the efficient
and numerous body of whites by whom they must be opposed on their entrance
into that neighborhood. There were some, however, who could not be
persuaded that there was any security but in flight, and eagerly was the
arrival of the "Mariner" looked for, as the anxiety grew more and more
intense.

The "Mariner" appeared at last. It was early in the morning. In one hour
from the time of her arrival the fearful news she brought had spread the
whole length of the settlement--"the cholera was in this country! It was
in Detroit--it was among the troops who were on their way to the seat of
war! Whole companies had died of it in the river St. Clair, and the
survivors had been put on shore at Fort Gratiot, to save their lives as
best they might!" We were shut in between the savage foe on one hand and
the pestilence on the other!

To those who had friends at the East the news was most appalling. It
seemed to unman every one who heard it. An officer who had exhibited the
most distinguished prowess in the battle-field, and also in some private
enterprises demanding unequalled courage and daring, was the first to
bring us the news. When he had

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communicated it, he laid his head against the window-sill and wept like a
child.

Those who must perforce rejoin friends near and dear, left the Bay in the
"Mariner;" all others considered their present home the safest; and so it
proved, for the dreadful scourge did not visit Green Bay that season.

The weather was intensely hot, and the mosquitoes so thick that we did not
pretend to walk on the parade after sunset, unless armed with two fans, or
green branches to keep constantly in motion, in order to disperse them.
This, by the way, was the surest method of attracting them. We had somehow
forgotten the apathetic indifference which had often excited our wonder in
Old Smoker, as we had observed him calmly sitting and allowing his naked
arms and person to become literally gray with the tormenting insects. Then
he would quietly wipe off a handful, the blood following--the movement of
the hand over his skin, and stoically wait for an occasion to repeat the
movement. It is said that the mosquito, if undisturbed until he has taken
his fill, leaves a much less inflamed bite than if brushed away in the
midst of his feast.

By day, the air was at this season filled with what is called the Green
Bay fly, a species of dragon-fly, with which the outer walls of the houses
are at times so covered that their color is hardly distinguishable. Their
existence is very ephemeral, scarcely lasting more than a day. Their dead
bodies are seen adhering to the walls and windows within, and they fall
without in such numbers that after a high wind has gathered them into rows
along the sides of the quarters, one may walk through them and toss them
up with their feet like the dry leaves in autumn.

As we walked across the parade, our attention was sometimes called to a
tapping upon the bars of the dungeon

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in which a criminal was confined--it was the murderer of Lieutenant Foster.

It may be remembered that this amiable young officer had been our
travelling companion in our journey from Chicago the preceding year. Some
months after his arrival at Fort Howard, he had occasion to order a
soldier of his company, named Doyle, into confinement for intoxication.
The man, a few days afterwards, prevailed on the sergeant of the guard to
escort him to Lieutenant Foster's quarters on the plea that he wished to
speak to him. He ascended the stairs to the young officer's room, while
the sergeant and another soldier remained at the foot, near the door.

Doyle entered, and, addressing Lieutenant Foster, said, "Will you please
tell me, lieutenant, what I am confined for?"

"No, sir," replied the officer; "you know your offence well enough; return
to your place of confinement."

The man ran down-stairs, wrenched the gun from the sergeant's hand, and,
rushing back, discharged it at the heart of Lieutenant Foster.

He turned to go to his inner apartment, but exclaiming, "Ah me!" he fell
dead before the entrance.

Doyle, having been tried by a civil court, was now under sentence,
awaiting his execution. He was a hardened villain, never exhibiting the
slightest compunction for his crime.

The commanding officer, Major Clark, sent to him one day to inquire if he
wanted anything for his comfort.

"If the Major pleased," he replied, "he should like to have a light and a
copy of Byron's Works."

Some fears were entertained that he would contrive to make way with
himself before the day of execution, and, to guard against it, he was
deprived of everything that could furnish him a weapon. His food was
served to him

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in a wooden bowl, lest a bit of broken crockery might be used as a means
of self-destruction.

One morning he sent a little package to the commanding officer as a
present. It contained a strong rope, fabricated from strips of his
blanket, that he had carefully separated, and with a large stout spike at
the end of it. The message accompanying it was, "He wished Major Clark to
see that if he chose to put an end to himself, he could find means to do
it in spite of him."

And this hardened frame of mind continued to the last. When he was led out
for execution, in passing beyond the gate, he observed a quantity of
lumber recently collected for the construction of a new Company's
warehouse.

"Ah, captain, what are you going to build here?" inquired he of Captain
Scott, who attended him.

"Doyle," replied his captain, "you have but a few moments to live--you had
better employ your thoughts about something else."

"It is for that very reason, captain," said he, "that I am inquiring--as
my time is short, I wish to gain all the information I can while it lasts."

We were not suffered to remain long in suspense in regard to the friends
we had left behind. In less than two weeks Old Smoker again made his
appearance. He was the bearer of letters from my husband, informing me
that General Dodge was then with him at Fort Winnebago, that Generals
Henry and Alexander were likewise at the Fort, and that as soon as they
had recruited their men and horses, which were pretty well worn out with
scouring the country after Black Hawk, they would march again in pursuit
of him towards the head-waters of the Rock River, where they had every
reason, from information

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lately brought in by the Winnebagoes, to believe he would be found.

As he charged us to lay aside all uneasiness on his account, and moreover
held forth the hope of soon coming or sending for us, our minds became
more tranquil.

Not long after this, I was told one morning that "a lady" wished to see me
at the front door. I obeyed the summons, and, to my surprise, was greeted
by my friend Madame Four-Legs. After much demonstration of joy at seeing
me, such as putting her two hands together over her forehead and then
parting them in a waving kind of gesture, laughing, and patting me on my
arms, she drew from her bosom a letter from my husband, of which she was
the bearer. It was to this effect--"Generals Dodge and Henry left here a
few days since, accompanied by Paquette; they met the Sauks near the
Wisconsin, on the 21st. A battle ensued, in which upwards of fifty of the
enemy were killed--our loss was one killed, and eight wounded. The
citizens are well pleased that all this has been accomplished without any
aid from Old White Beaver.(*) The war must be near its close, for the
militia and regulars together will soon finish the remaining handful of
fugitives."

The arrival of Lieutenant Hunter, who had obtained leave of absence in
order to escort us, soon put all things in train for our return to Fort
Winnebago. No Mackinac boat was to be had, but in lieu of it a Durham boat
was procured. This is of a description longer and shallower than the
other, with no convenience for rigging up an awning, or shelter of any
kind, over the centre; but its size was better fitted to accommodate our
party, which consisted, besides our own family, of Lieutenant and Mrs.

(* General Atkinson.)

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Hunter, the wife of another officer now stationed at Fort Winnebago, and
our cousin, Miss Forsyth. We made up our minds, as will be supposed, to
pretty close quarters.

Our crew was composed partly of Frenchmen and partly of soldiers, and, all
things being in readiness, we set off one fine bright morning in the
latter part of July.

Our second day's alternate rowing and poling brought us to the Grande
Chute early in the afternoon.

Here, it is the custom to disembark at the foot of the rapids, and,
ascending the high bank, walk around the fall, while the men pull the boat
up through the foaming waters.

Most of our party had already stepped on shore, when a sudden thought
seized one of the ladies and myself.

"Let us stay in the boat," said we, "and be pulled up the Chute. The rest
of the company went on, while we sat and watched with great interest the
preparations the men were making. They were soon overboard in the water,
and, attaching a strong rope to the bow of the boat, all lent their aid in
pulling as they marched slowly along with their heavy load. The cargo,
consisting only of our trunks and stores, which were of no very
considerable weight, had not been removed.

We went on, now and then getting a tremendous bump against a hidden rock,
and frequently splashed by a shower of foam as the waves roared and boiled
around us.

The men kept as close as possible to the high, precipitous bank, where the
water was smoothest. At the head of the cordel was a merry simpleton of a
Frenchman, who was constantly turning his head to grin with delight at our
evident enjoyment and excitement.

We were indeed in high glee. "Is not this charming?" cried one. "I only
wish--"

The wish, whatever it was, was cut short by a shout

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and a crash. "Have a care, Robineau! Mind where you are taking the boat!"
was the cry, but it came too late. More occupied with the ladies than with
his duty, the leader had guided us into the midst of a sharp, projecting
tree that hung from the bank. The first tug ripped out the side of the
boat, which immediately began to fill with water.

My companion and I jumped upon the nearest rocks that showed their heads
above the foam. Our screams and the shouts of the men brought Lieutenant
Hunter and some Indians, who were above on the bank, dashing down to our
rescue. They carried us in their arms to land, while the men worked
lustily at fishing up the contents of the boat, now thoroughly saturated
with water.

We scrambled up the high bank, in a miserable plight, to join in the
general lamentation over the probable consequences of the accident.

"Oh! my husband's new uniform!" cried one, and "Oh! the miniatures in the
bottom of my trunk!" sighed another--while, "Oh! the silk dresses, and the
ribbons, and the finery!" formed the general chorus.

No one thought of the provisions, although we had observed, in our
progress to shore, the barrel of bread and the tub of ice, which
Lieutenant Hunter had providently brought for our refreshment, sailing
away on the dancing waves. Among the boxes brought to land, and "toted" up
the steep bank, was one containing some loaves of sugar and packages of
tea, which I had bought for our winter's supply from the sutler at the
post. The young Indian who was the bearer of it set it upon the ground,
and soon called my attention to a thick, white stream that was oozing from
the corners. I made signs for him to taste it. He dipped his finger in it,
and exclaimed with delight to his companions, when he perceived what it
was. I then pointed to his hatchet, and motioned him to open

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the box. He did not require a second invitation--it was soon hacked to
pieces.

Then, as I beckoned up all the rest of the youngsters who were looking on,
full of wonder, such a scrambling and shouting with delight succeeded as
put us all, particularly the boys, into fits of laughter. Bowls, dippers,
hands, everything that could contain even the smallest quantity, were put
in requisition. The squaws were most active. Those who could do no better
took the stoutest fragments of the blue paper in which the sugar had been
enveloped, and in a trice nothing remained but the wet, yellow bundles of
tea, and the fragments of the splintered box which had contained it.

By this time fires had been made, and the articles from the trunks were
soon seen covering every shrub and bush in the vicinity. Fortunately, the
box containing the new uniform had been piled high above the others, in
the centre of the boat, and had received but little damage; but sad was
the condition of the wardrobes in general.

Not a white article was to be seen. All was mottled; blue, green, red, and
black intermingling in streaks, and dripping from ends and corners.

To add to the trouble, the rain began to fall, as rain is apt to do, at an
inconvenient moment, and soon the half-dried garments had to be gathered
out of the smoke and huddled away in a most discouraging condition.

The tent was pitched, wet as it was, and the blankets, wrung out of the
water, and partially dried, were spread upon the ground for our
accommodation at night.

A Hamburg cheese, which had been a part of my stores, was voted to me for
a pillow, and, after a supper the best part of which was a portion of one
of the wet loaves which had remained in a barrel too tightly wedged to
drift away, we betook ourselves to our repose.

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The next morning rose hot and sultry. The mosquitoes, which the rain had
kept at bay through the night, now began to make themselves amends, and to
torment us unmercifully.

After our most uncomfortable and unpalatable breakfast, the first question
for consideration was, what we were to do with ourselves. Our boat lay
submerged at the foot of the hill, half-way up the rapids. The nearest
habitation among the Waubanakees was some miles distant, and this there
was no means of reaching but by an Indian canoe, if some of our present
friends and neighbors would be so obliging as to bring one for our use.
Even then it was doubtful if boats could be found sufficient to convey all
our numerous party back to Green Bay.

In the midst of these perplexing consultations a whoop was heard from
beyond the hill, which here sloped away to the north, at the head of the
rapids.

"There is John! that is certainly his voice!" cried more than one of the
company.

It was, indeed, my husband, and in a moment he was among us. Never was
arrival more opportune, more evidently providential.

Not having learned our plans (for the unsettled state of the country had
prevented our sending him word), he had come provided with a boat, to take
us back to Fort Winnebago.

Our drying operations, which we had recommenced this morning, were soon
cut short. Everything was shuffled away in the most expeditious manner
possible, and in an incredibly short time we were transferred to the other
boat, which lay quietly above the Chute, and were pulling away towards
Winnebago Lake.

We had resolved to go only so far as the vicinity of the lake, where the
breeze would render the mosquitoes less

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intolerable, and then to stop and make one more attempt at drying our
clothing. Accordingly, when we reached a beautiful high bank near the
Little Butte, we stopped for that purpose again, unpacked our trunks, and
soon every bush and twig was fluttering with the spoils of the cruel waves.

Hardly had we thus disposed of the last rag or ribbon when the tramp of
horses was heard, followed by loud shouts and cheers ringing through the
forest.

A company of about twenty-five horsemen, with banners flying, veils
fluttering from their hats, and arms glittering in the sun, rode into our
midst, and, amid greetings and roars of laughter, inquired into the nature
and reasons of our singular state of confusion.

They were Colonel Stambough and Alexander Irwin, of Green Bay, with a
company of young volunteers, and followed by a whooping band of
Menomonees, all bound for the seat of war. We comforted them with the
assurance that the victories were by this time all won and the scalps
taken; but, expressing the hope that there were yet a few laurels to be
earned, they bade us adieu, and rapidly pursued their march.

We crossed Lake Winnebago by the clear, beautiful light of a summer moon.
The soft air was just enough to swell the sail, and thus save the men
their labor at the oar.

The witchery of the hour was not, however, sufficient to induce us to
forego our repose after the heat and annoyances of the day--we therefore
disposed ourselves betimes, to be packed away in the centre of the boat.
How it was accomplished no one of the numerous company could tell. If any
accident had occurred to disturb our arrangement, I am sure it would have
been a Chinese puzzle to put us back again in our places. The men on

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the outside had much the best of it, and we rather envied those who were
off watch, their ability to snore and change position as the humor took
them.

We reached Powell's just in time to have gone ashore and prepare our
breakfast had we had wherewithal to prepare it. We had hoped to be able to
procure some supplies here, for hitherto we had been living on the remains
of my husband's ample stock. That was now so nearly exhausted that when we
found the mess-basket could not be replenished at this place we began to
talk of putting ourselves on allowance.

The wet bread, of which there had remained an ample store, had, as may be
readily imagined, soon fermented under the influence of a July sun. The
tea, too, notwithstanding our careful efforts at drying it on newspapers
and pieces of board, ere long became musty and unfit for use. There was,
literally, nothing left, except the salted meat and a few crackers, hardly
sufficient for the present day.

The men were therefore urged to make all the speed possible, that we might
reach Gleason's, at Lake Puckaway, in good season on the following day.

At evening, when we stopped to take our tea at a beautiful little opening
among the trees, we found our old enemies, the mosquitoes, worse than
ever. It was necessary to put on our cloaks and gloves, and tie our veils
close around our throats, only venturing to introduce a cracker or a cup
of tea under this protection in the most stealthy manner.

The men rowed well, and brought us to Gleason's about eleven o'clock the
next day. We were greeted with the most enthusiastic demonstrations by my
old friend La Grosse Americaine, who had removed here from Bellefontaine.

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"Oh, Mrs. Armstrong," cried we, "get us some breakfast--we are famishing!"

At that instant who should appear but our faithful Mata, driving the old
caleche in which we were in the habit of making our little excursions in
the neighborhood of the Fort. He had ridden over, hoping to meet us, in
the idea that some of us would prefer this method of reaching our home.

With provident thoughtfulness, he had brought tea, roasted coffee, fresh
butter, eggs, etc., lest we should be short of such luxuries in that
advanced stage of our journey.

His "Good-morning, Madame Johns! How do you dos?" was a pleasant and
welcome sound.

We could not wait for our breakfast, but gathered round La Grosse
Americaine like a parcel of children while she cut and spread slices of
bread-and-butter for us.

After our regular meal was finished, it was decided that sister Margaret
should take Josette, and return with Mata to open the house and make it
ready for our reception. It had been the head-quarters of militia,
Indians, and stragglers of various descriptions during our absence, and we
could easily imagine that a little "misrule and unreason" might have had
sway for that period.

We had yet seventy-two miles, by the devious winding course of the river,
over first the beautiful waters of Lac de Boeuf, and then through the low,
marshy lands that spread away to the Portage. An attempt was made on the
part of one of the gentlemen to create a little excitement among the
ladies as we approached the spot where it had been supposed the Sauks
might pass on their way to the Chippewa country.

"Who knows," said he, gravely, "but they may be lurking in this
neighborhood yet? If so, we shall probably have some signal. We must be on
the alert!"

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Some of the ladies began to turn pale and look about them. After an
interval of perfect silence, a low, prolonged whistle was heard. There was
so much agitation, and even actual terror, that the mischievous author of
the trick was obliged to confess at once, and receive a hearty scolding
for the pain he had caused.

Just before sunset of the second day from Gleason's we reached our home.
Every thing was radiant with neatness and good order. With the efficient
aid of our good Manaigre and his wife, the house had been whitewashed from
the roof to the door-sill, a thorough scrubbing and cleansing effected,
the carpets unpacked and spread upon the floors, the furniture arranged,
and, though last not least, a noble supper smoked upon the board by the
time we had made, once more, a civilized toilet.

Many of our friends from the Fort were there to greet us, and a more happy
or thankful party has seldom been assembled.



CHAPTER XXXV.
SURRENDER OF WINNEBAGO PRISONERS.

The war was now considered at an end. The news of the battle of the Bad
Axe, where the regulars, the militia, and the steamboat Warrior combined,
had made a final end of the remaining handful of Sauks, had reached us and
restored tranquillity to the hearts and homes of the frontier settlers.

It may seem wonderful that an enemy so few in number and so insignificant
in resources could have created

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such a panic, and required so vast an amount of opposing force to subdue
them. The difficulty had been simply in never knowing where to find them,
either to attack or guard against them. Probably at the outset every
military man thought and felt like the noble old veteran General Brady.
"Give me two infantry companies mounted," said he, "and I will engage to
whip the Sauks out of the country in one week!"

True, but to whip the enemy you must first meet him; and in order to
pursue effectually and catch the Indians, a peculiar training is
necessary--a training which, at that day, few, even of the frontier
militia, could boast.

In some portions of this campaign there was another difficulty,--the want
of concert between the two branches of the service. The regular troops
looked with contempt upon the unprofessional movements of the militia; the
militia railed at the dilatory and useless formalities of the regulars.
Each avowed the conviction that matters could be much better conducted
without the other, and the militia, being prompt to act, sometimes took
matters into their own hands, and brought on defeat and disgrace, as in
the affair of "Stillman's Run."

The feeling of contempt which the army officers entertained for the
militia, extended itself to their subordinates and dependants. After the
visit of the Ranger officers to Fort Winnebago, before the battle of the
Wisconsin, the officer of the mess where they had been entertained called
up his servant one day to inquire into the sutler's accounts. He was the
same little "Yellow David" who had formerly appertained to Captain Harney.

"David," said the young gentleman, "I see three bottles of cologne-water
charged in the month's account of the mess at the sutler's. What does that
mean?"

"If you please, lieutenant," said David, respectfully,

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"it was to sweeten up the dining-room and quarters after them milish'
officers were here visiting."

Black Hawk and a few of his warriors had escaped to the north, where they
were shortly after captured by the One-eyed Day-kau-ray and his party, and
brought prisoners to General Street at Prairie du Chien. The women and
children of the band had been put in canoes and sent down the Mississippi,
in hopes of being permitted to cross and reach the rest of that tribe.

The canoes had been tied together, and many of them were upset, and the
children drowned, their mothers being too weak and exhausted to rescue
them. The survivors were taken prisoners, and, starving and miserable,
were brought to Prairie du Chien. Our mother was at the Fort at the time
of their arrival. She described their condition as wretched and reduced
beyond anything she had ever witnessed. One woman who spoke a little
Chippewa gave her an account of the sufferings and hardships they had
endured--it was truly appalling.

After having eaten such of the horses as could be spared, they had
subsisted on acorns, elm-bark, or even grass. Many had died of starvation,
and their bodies were found lying in their trail by the pursuing whites.
This poor woman had lost her husband in battle, and all her children by
the upsetting of the canoe in which they were, and her only wish now was,
to go and join them. Poor Indians! who can wonder that they do not love
the whites?

But a very short time had we been quietly at home when a summons came to
my husband to collect the principal chiefs of the Winnebagoes and meet
General Scott and Governor Reynolds at Rock Island, where it was proposed
to hold a treaty for the purchase of all the lands east and south of the
Wisconsin. Messengers were accordingly sent to collect the principal men,
and, accompanied

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by as many as chose to report themselves, he set off on his journey.

He had been gone about two weeks, and I was beginning to count the days
which must elapse before I could reasonably expect his return, when, one
afternoon, I went over to pay a visit to my sister at the Fort. As I
passed into the large hall of one range of quarters, Lieutenant Lacy came
suddenly in from the opposite direction, and, almost without stopping,
cried,--

"Bad news, madam! Have you heard it?"

"No. What is it?"

"The cholera has broken out at Rock Island, and they are dying by five
hundred a day. Dr. Finley has just arrived with the news." So saying, he
vanished, without stopping to answer a question.

The cholera at Rock Island, and my husband there! I flew to the other door
of the hall, which looked out upon the parade-ground. A sentinel was
walking near. "Soldier," cried I, "will you run to the young officers'
quarters and ask Dr. Finley to come here for a moment?"

The man shook his head--he was not allowed to leave his post.

Presently Mrs. Lacy's servant-girl appeared from a door under the steps.
She was a worthless creature, but where help was so scarce ladies could
not afford to keep a scrupulous tariff of moral qualification.

"Oh! Catharine," said I, "will you run over and ask Dr. Finley to come
here a moment? I must hear what news he has brought from Rock Island." She
put on a modest look, and said,--

"I do not like to go to the young officers' quarters."

I was indignant at her hypocrisy, but I was also wild with impatience,
when to my great joy Dr. Finley made his appearance.

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"Where is my husband?" cried I.

"On his way home, madam, safe and sound. He will probably be here to-
morrow." He then gave me an account of the ravages the cholera was making
among the troops, which were indeed severe, although less so than rumor
had at first proclaimed.

Notwithstanding the doctor's assurance of his safety, my husband was
seized with cholera on his journey. By the kind care of Paquette and the
plentiful use of chicken-broth which the poor woman at whose cabin he
stopped administered to him, he soon recovered, and reached his home in
safety, having taken Prairie du Chien in his route and brought his mother
with him again to her home.

The Indians had consented to the sale of their beautiful domain. Indeed,
there is no alternative in such cases. If they persist in retaining them,
and become surrounded and hemmed in by the white settlers, their situation
is more deplorable than if they surrendered their homes altogether. This
they are aware of, and therefore, as a general thing, they give up their
lands at the proposal of Government, and only take care to make the best
bargain they can for themselves. In this instance they were to receive as
an equivalent a tract of land(*) extending to the interior of Iowa, and an
additional sum of ten thousand dollars annually.

One of the stipulations of the treaty was, the surrender by the
Winnebagoes of certain individuals of their tribe accused of having
participated with the Sauks in some of the murders on the frontier, in
order that they might be tried by our laws, and acquitted or punished as
the case might be.

(* A belt of land termed the Neutral Ground of the different opposing
nations.)

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Wau-kaun-kah (the Little Snake) voluntarily gave himself as a hostage
until the delivery of the suspected persons. He was accordingly received
by the Agent, and marched over and placed in confinement at the Fort until
the seven accused should appear to redeem him.

It was a work of some little time on the part of the nation to persuade
these suspected individuals to place themselves in the hands of the
whites, that they might receive justice according to the laws of the
latter. The trial of Red Bird, and his languishing death in prison, were
still fresh in their memories, and it needed a good deal of resolution, as
well as a strong conviction of conscious innocence, to brace them up to
such a step.

It had to be brought about by arguments and persuasions, for the nation
would never have resorted to force to compel the fulfilment of their
stipulation.

In the mean time a solemn talk was held with the principal chiefs
assembled at the Agency. A great part of the nation were in the immediate
neighborhood, in obedience to a notice sent by Governor Porter, who, in
virtue of his office of Governor of Michigan Territory, was also
Superintendent of the Northwest Division of the Indians. Instead of
calling upon the Agent to take charge of the annuity money, as had
heretofore been the custom, the Governor had announced his intention of
bringing it himself to Fort Winnebago and being present at the payment.
The time appointed had now arrived, and with it the main body of the
Winnebagoes.

Such of the Indians as had not attended the treaty at Rock Island and been
instrumental in the cession of their country, were loud in their
condemnation of the step, and their lamentations over it. Foremost among
these was Wild-Cat, the Falstaff of Garlic Island and its vicinity. It was
little wonder that he should shed bitter tears, as he

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did, over the loss of his beautiful home on the blue waters of Winnebago
Lake.

"If he had not been accidentally stopped," he said, "on his way to the
treaty, and detained until it was too late, he would never, have permitted
the bargain."

His Father, who knew that a desperate frolic, into which Wild-Cat had been
enticed by the way, was the cause of his failing to accompany his
countrymen to Rock Island, replied, gravely,--

"That he had heard of the chief's misfortune on this occasion. How that,
in ascending the Fox River, a couple of kegs of whiskey had come floating
down the stream, which, running foul of his canoe with great force, had
injured it to such a degree that he had been obliged to stop several days
at the Mee-kan, to repair damages."

The shouts of laughter which greeted this explanation were so contagious
that poor Wild-Cat himself was compelled to join in it, and treat his
misfortune as a joke.

The suspected Indians having engaged the services of Judge Doty to defend
them on their future trial, notice was at length given that on a certain
day they would be brought to the Portage and surrendered to their Father,
to be by him transferred to the keeping of the military officer appointed
to receive them.

It was joyful news to poor Wau-kaun-kah, that the day of his release was
at hand. Every time that we had been within the walls of the Fort we had
been saluted by a call from him, as he kept his station at the guard-room
window:

"Do you hear anything of those Indians? When are they coming, they coming,
that I may be let out?"

We had endeavored to lighten his confinement by seeing that he was well
supplied with food, and his Father and Paquette had paid him occasional
visits; but, notwithstanding

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these attentions and the kindness he had received at the Fort, his
confinement was inexpressibly irksome.

On the morning of a bright autumnal day the authorities were notified that
the chiefs of the nation would present themselves at the Agency to deliver
the suspected persons as prisoners to the Americans.

At the hour of ten o'clock, as we looked out over the Portage road, we
could descry a moving concourse of people, in which brilliant color,
glittering arms, and, as they approached still nearer, certain white
objects of unusual appearance could be distinguished.

General Dodge, Major Plympton, and one or two other officers took their
seats with Mr. Kinzie on the platform in front of the door of our mansion
to receive them, while we stationed ourselves at the window where we could
both see and hear.

The procession wound up the hill, and approached, marching slowly towards
us. It was a grand and solemn sight. First came some of the principal
chiefs in their most brilliant array. Next, the prisoners, all habited in
white cotton, in token of their innocence, with girdles round their
waists. The music of the drum and the shee-shee-qua accompanied their
death-song, which they were chaunting. They wore no paint, no ornaments--
their countenances were grave and thoughtful. It might well be a serious
moment to them, for they knew but little of the customs of the whites, and
that little was not such as to inspire cheerfulness. Only their Father's
assurance that they should receive strict justice, would probably have
induced them to comply with the engagements of the nation in this manner.

The remainder of the procession was made up of a long train of
Winnebagoes, all decked out in their holiday garb.

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The chiefs approached and shook hands with the gentlemen, who stood ready
to receive their greeting. Then the prisoners came forward, and went
through the same salutation with the officers. When they offered their
hands to their Father, he declined.

"No," said he. "You have come here accused of great crimes--of having
assisted in taking the lives of some of the defenceless settlers. When you
have been tried by the laws of the land, and been proved innocent, then
your Father will give you his hand."

They looked still more serious at this address, as if they thought it
indicated that their Father, too, believed them guilty, and stepping back
a little, they seated themselves, without speaking, in a row upon the
ground, facing their Father and the officers. The other Indians all took
seats in a circle around them, except the one-eyed chief, Kauray-kau-say-
kah (the White Crow), who had been deputed to deliver the prisoners to the
Agent.

He made a speech in which he set forth that, "although asserting their
innocence of the charges preferred against them, his countrymen were quite
willing to be tried by the laws of white men. He hoped they would not be
detained long, but that the matter would be investigated soon, and that
they would come out of it clear and white."

In reply he was assured that all things would be conducted fairly and
impartially, exactly as if the accused were white men, and the hope was
added that they would be found to have been good and true citizens, and
peaceful children of their Great Father, the President.

When this was over, White Crow requested permission to transfer the medal
he had received as a mark of friendship from the President, to his son,
who stood beside him, and who had been chosen by the nation to fill his
place as

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chief, an office he was desirous of resigning. The speeches made upon this
occasion, as interpreted by Paquette, the modest demeanor of the young
man, and the dignified yet feeling manner of the father throughout, made
the whole ceremony highly impressive; and when the latter took the medal
from his neck and hung it around that of his son, addressing him a few
appropriate words, I think no one could have witnessed the scene unmoved.

I had watched the countenances of the prisoners as they sat on the ground
before me, while all these ceremonies were going forward. With one
exception they were open, calm, and expressive of conscious innocence. Of
that one I could not but admit there might be reasonable doubts. One was
remarkably fine-looking--another was a boy of certainly not more than
seventeen, and during the transfer of the medal he looked from one to the
other, and listened to what was uttered by the speakers, with an air and
expression of even childlike interest and satisfaction.

Our hearts felt sad for them as, the ceremonies finished, they were
conducted by a file of soldiers and committed to the dungeon of the guard-
house until such time as they should be summoned to attend the court
appointed to try their cause.



CHAPTER XXXVI.
ESCAPE OF THE PRISONERS.

The Indians did not disperse after the ceremonies of the surrender had
been gone through. They continued still in the vicinity of the Portage, in
the constant expectation of the arrival of the annuity money, which they
had

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been summoned there to receive. But the time for setting out on his
journey to bring it was postponed by Governor Porter from week to week.
Had he foreseen all the evils this delay was to occasion, he would,
possibly, have been more prompt in fulfilling his appointment.

Many causes conspired to make an early payment desirable. In the first
place, the Winnebagoes, having been driven from their homes by their
anxiety to avoid all appearance of fraternizing with the Sauks, had made
this year no gardens nor corn-fields. They had, therefore, no provisions
on hand, either for present use or for their winter's consumption, except
their scanty supplies of wild rice. While this was disappearing during
their protracted detention at the Portage, they were running the risk of
leaving themselves quite unprovided with food, in case of a bad hunting-
season during the winter and spring.

In the next place, the rations which the Agent had been accustomed, by the
permission of Government, to deal out occasionally to them, were now cut
off by a scarcity in the Commissary's department. The frequent levies of
the militia during the summer campaign, and the reinforcement of the
garrison by the troops from Fort Howard, had drawn so largely on the
stores at this post that there was necessity for the most rigid economy in
the issuing of supplies.

Foreseeing this state of things, Mr. Kinzie, as soon as the war was at an
end, commissioned Mr. Kercheval, then sutler at Fort Howard, to procure
him a couple of boat-loads of corn, to be distributed among the Indians.
Unfortunately, there was no corn to be obtained from Michigan; it was
necessary to bring it from Ohio, and by the time it at length reached
Green Bay (for in those days business was never done in a hurry) the
navigation of the

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Fox River had closed, and it was detained there, to be brought up the
following spring.

As day after day wore on and "the silver" did not make its appearance, the
Indians were advised by their Father to disperse to their hunting-grounds
to procure food, with the promise that they should be summoned immediately
on the arrival of Governor Porter; and this advice they followed.

While they had been in our neighborhood, they had more than once asked
permission to dance the scalp-dance before our door. This is the most
frightful, heart-curdling exhibition that can possibly be imagined. The
scalps are stretched on little hoops, or frames, and carried on the end of
slender poles. These are brandished about in the course of the dance, with
cries, shouts, and furious gestures. The women, who commence as
spectators, becoming excited with the scene and the music which their own
discordant notes help to make more deafening, rush in, seize the scalps
from the hands of the owners, and toss them frantically about, with the
screams and yells of demons. I have seen as many as forty or fifty scalps
figuring in one dance. Upon one occasion one was borne by an Indian who
approached quite near me, and I shuddered as I observed the long, fair
hair, evidently that of a woman. Another Indian had the skin of a human
hand, stretched and prepared with as much care as if it had been some
costly jewel. When these dances occurred, as they sometimes did, by
moonlight, they were peculiarly horrid and revolting.

Amid so many events of a painful character there were not wanting
occasionally some that bordered on the ludicrous.

One evening, while sitting at tea, we were alarmed by

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the sound of guns firing in the direction of the Wisconsin. All started
up, and prepared, instinctively, for flight to the garrison. As we left
the house we found the whole bluff and the meadow below in commotion,--
Indians running with their guns and spears across their shoulders to the
scene of alarm--squaws and children standing in front of their lodges and
looking anxiously in the direction of the unusual and unaccountable
sounds--groups of French and half-breeds, like ourselves, fleeing to gain
the bridge and place themselves within the pickets so lately erected.

As one company of Indians passed us hurriedly, some weapon carelessly
carried hit one of our party on the side of the head. "Oh!" shrieked she,
"I am killed! an Indian has tomahawked me!" and she was only reassured by
finding she could still run as fast as the best of us.

When we reached the parade-ground, within the Fort, we could not help
laughing at the grotesque appearance we presented. Some without hats or
shawls--others with packages of valuables hastily secured at the moment--
one with her piece of bread-and-butter in hand, which she had not had the
presence of mind to lay aside when she took to flight.

The alarm was, in the end, found to have proceeded from a party of
Winnebagoes from one of the Barribault villages, who, being about to leave
their home for a period, were going through the ceremony of burying the
scalps which they and their fathers had taken.

Like the military funerals among civilized nations, their solemnities were
closed on this occasion by the discharge of several volleys over the grave
of their trophies.

At length, about the beginning of November, two months after the time
appointed, Governor Porter, accompanied

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by Major Forsyth and Mr. Kercheval, arrived with the annuity money. The
Indians were again assembled, the payment was made, and having supplied
themselves with a larger quantity of ammunition than usual,--for they saw
the necessity of a good hunt to remedy past and present deficiencies,--
they set off for their wintering grounds.

We were, ourselves, about changing our quarters, to our no small
satisfaction. Notwithstanding the Indian disturbances, the new Agency
House (permission to build which had, after much delay, been accorded by
Government) had been going steadily on, and soon after the departure of
the Governor and his party, we took possession of it.

We had been settled but a few weeks, when one morning Lieutenant Davies
appeared just as we were sitting down to breakfast, with a face full of
consternation. "The Indian prisoners had escaped from the black-hole! The
commanding officer, Colonel Cutler, had sent for Mr. Kinzie to come over
to the Fort and counsel with him what was to be done."

The prisoners had probably commenced their operations very soon after
being placed in the black-hole, a dungeon in the basement of the guard-
house. They observed that their meals were brought regularly, three times
a day, and that in the intervals they were left entirely to themselves.
With their knives they commenced excavating an opening, the earth from
which, as it was withdrawn, they spread about on the floor of their
prison. A blanket was placed over the hole, and one of the company was
always seated upon it, before the regular time for the soldier who had
charge of them to make his appearance. When the periodical visit was made,
the Indians were always observed to be seated, smoking in the most orderly

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and quiet manner. There was never anything in their appearance to excite
suspicion.

The prisoners had never read the memoirs of Baron Trenck, but they had
watched the proceedings of the badgers; so, profiting by their example,
they worked on, shaping the opening spirally, until, in about six weeks,
they came out to the open air beyond the walls of the Fort.

That they might be as little encumbered as possible in their flight, they
left their blankets behind them, and although it was bitter December
weather, they took to the woods and prairies with only their calico shirts
and leggings for covering. We can readily believe that hope and exultation
kept them comfortably warm until they reached an asylum among their
friends.

It would be compromising our own reputation as loyal and patriotic
citizens to tell of the secret rejoicing this news occasioned us.

The question now was, how to get the fugitives back again. The Agent could
promise no more than that he would communicate with the chiefs, and
represent the wishes of the officers that the prisoners should once more
surrender themselves, and thus free those who had had the charge of them
from the imputation of carelessness, which the Government would be very
likely to throw upon them.

When, according to their custom, many of the chiefs assembled at the
Agency on New-Year's Day, their Father laid the subject before them.

The Indians replied, that if they saw the young men they would tell them
what the officers would like to have them do. They could, themselves, do
nothing in the matter. They had fulfilled their engagement by bringing
them once and putting them in the hands of the officers.

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The Government had had them in its power once and could not keep them--it
must now go and catch them itself.

The Government, having had some experience the past summer in "catching
Indians," wisely concluded to drop the matter.

About this time another event occurred which occasioned no small
excitement in our little community. Robineau, the striker from the
blacksmith establishment at Sugar Creek, near the Four Lakes, arrived one
very cold day at the Agency. He had come to procure medical aid for Mata's
eldest daughter, Sophy, who, while sliding on the lake, had fallen on the
ice and been badly hurt. Her father was absent, having gone to Prairie du
Chien to place his youngest daughter at school. Two or three days had
elapsed since the accident had happened; a high fever had set in, and the
poor girl was in a state of great suffering; it had therefore been thought
best to send Robineau to us for advice and aid, leaving Turcotte and a
friendly Indian woman from a neighboring lodge to take charge of poor
Sophy.

The commanding officer did not think it prudent, when the subject was laid
before him, to permit the surgeon to leave the post, but he very
cheerfully granted leave of absence to Currie, the hospital steward, a
young man who possessed some knowledge of medicine and surgery.

As it was important that Sophy should have an experienced nurse, we
procured the services of Madame Bellair, the wife of the Frenchman who was
generally employed as express to Chicago; and, as an aid and companion,
Agathe, a daughter of Day-kau-ray, who lived in Paquette's family, was
added to the party.

Of Agathe I shall have more to say hereafter.

The weather was excessively cold when Robineau, Currie, and the two women
set out for Sugar Creek, a

Page 363

distance of about forty miles. We had provided them with a good store of
rice, crackers, tea, and sugar, for the invalid, all of which, with their
provisions for the way, were packed on the horse Robineau had ridden to
the Portage. It was expected they would reach their place of destination
on the second day.

What, then, was our surprise to see Turcotte make his appearance on the
fourth day after their departure, to inquire why Robineau had not returned
with aid for poor Sophy! There was but one solution of the mystery.
Robineau had guided them as ill as he had guided the boat at the Grande
Chute the summer before, and, although he could not shipwreck them, he had
undoubtedly lost them in the woods or prairies. One comfort was, that they
could not well starve, for the rice and crackers would furnish them with
several days' provisions, and with Agathe, who must be accustomed to this
kind of life, they could not fail in time of finding Indians, and being
brought back to the Portage.

Still, day after day went on and we received no tidings of them. Turcotte
returned to Sugar Creek with comforts and prescriptions for Sophy, and
Colonel Cutler sent out a party to hunt for the missing ones, among whom
poor Currie, from his delicate constitution, was the object of our
greatest commiseration.

As the snow fell and the winds howled, we could employ ourselves about
nothing but walking from window to window, watching, in hopes of seeing
some one appear in the distance. No Indians were at hand whom we could
dispatch upon the search, and by the tenth day we had almost given up in
despair.

It was then that the joyful news was suddenly brought us, "They are found!
They are at the Fort!" A party of soldiers who had been exploring had
encountered them

Page 364

at Hastings's Woods, twelve miles distant, slowly and feebly making their
way back to the Portage. They knew they were on the right track, but had
hardly strength to pursue it.

Exhausted with cold and hunger, for their provisions had given out two
days before, they had thought seriously of killing the horse and eating
him. Nothing but Currie's inability to proceed on foot, and the dread of
being compelled to leave him in the woods to perish, had deterred them.

Agathe had from the first been convinced that they were on the wrong
track, but Robineau, with his usual obstinacy, persevered in keeping it
until it brought them to the Rock River, when he was obliged to
acknowledge his error, and they commenced retracing their steps.

Agathe, according to the custom of her people, had carried her hatchet
with her, and thus they had always had a fire at night, and boughs to
shelter them from the storms; otherwise they must inevitably have perished.

There were two circumstances which aroused in us a stronger feeling even
than that of sympathy. The first was, the miserable Robineau's having
demanded of Currie, first, all his money, and afterwards his watch, as a
condition of his bringing the party back into the right path, which he
averred he knew perfectly well.

The second was, Bellaire's giving his kind, excellent wife a hearty
flogging "for going off," as he said, "on such a fool's errand."

The latter culprit was out of our jurisdiction, but Mons. Robineau was
discharged on the spot, and warned that he might think himself happy to
escape a legal process for swindling.

I am happy to say that Sophy Mata, in whose behalf all these sufferings
had been endured, was quite recovered by the time her father returned from
the Prairie.



Page 365

CHAPTER XXXVII. AGATHE--TOMAH.

Agathe was the daughter of an Indian who was distinguished by the name of
Rascal Day-kau-ray. Whether he merited the appellation must be determined
hereafter. He was brother to the grand old chief of that name, but as
unlike him as it is possible for those of the same blood to be.

The Day-kau-rays were a very handsome family, and this daughter was
remarkable for her fine personal endowments. A tall, well-developed form,
a round, sweet face, and that peculiarly soft, melodious voice which
belongs to the women of her people, would have attracted the attention of
a stranger, while the pensive expression of her countenance irresistibly
drew the hearts of all towards her, and prompted the wish to know more of
her history. As I received it from her friend, Mrs. Paquette, it was
indeed a touching one.

A young officer at the Fort had seen her, and had set, I will not say his
heart--it may be doubted if he had one--but his mind upon her. He applied
to Paquette to negotiate what he called a marriage with her. I am sorry to
say that Paquette was induced to enter into this scheme. He knew full well
the sin of making false representations to the family of Agathe, and he
knew the misery he was about to bring upon her.

The poor girl had been betrothed to a young man of her own people, and, as
is generally the case, the attachment on both sides was very strong. Among
these simple

Page 366

people, who have few subjects of thought or speculation beyond the
interests of their daily life, their affections and their animosities form
the warp and woof of their character. All their feelings are intense, from
being concentrated on so few objects. Family relations, particularly with
the women, engross the whole amount of their sensibilities.

The marriage connection is a sacred and indissoluble tie. I have read, in
a recent report to the Historical Society of Wisconsin, that, in former
times, a temporary marriage between a white man and a Menomonee woman was
no uncommon occurrence, and that such an arrangement brought no scandal. I
am afraid that if such cases were investigated, a good deal of deceit and
misrepresentation would be found to have been added to the other sins of
the transaction; and that the woman would be found to have been a victim,
instead of a willing participant, in such a connection.

At all events, no system of this kind exists among the Winnebagoes. The
strictest sense of female propriety is a distinguishing trait among them.
A woman who transgresses it is said to have "forgotten herself," and is
sure to be cast off and "forgotten" by her friends.

The marriage proposed between the young officer and the daughter of Day-
kau-ray, was understood as intended to be true and lasting. The father
would not have exposed himself to the contempt of his whole nation by
selling his daughter to become the mistress of any man. The Day-kau-rays,
as I have elsewhere said, were not a little proud of a remote cross of
French blood which mingled with the aboriginal stream in their veins, and
probably in acceding to the proposed connection the father of Agathe was
as much influenced by what he considered the honor to be

Page 367

derived as by the amount of valuable presents which accompanied the
overtures made to him.

Be that as it may, the poor girl was torn from her lover, and transferred
from her father's lodge to the quarters of the young officer.

There were no ladies in the garrison at that time. Had there been, such a
step would hardly have been ventured. Far away in the wilderness, shut out
from the salutary influences of religious and social cultivation, what
wonder that the moral sense sometimes becomes blinded, and that the choice
is made, "Evil, be thou my good!"

The first step in wrong was followed by one still more aggravated in
cruelty. The young officer left the post, as he said, on furlough, but he
never returned. The news came after a time that he was married, and when
he again joined his regiment it was at another post.

There was a natural feeling in the strength of the "woe pronounced against
him" by more tongues than one. "He will never," said my informant, "dare
show himself in this country again! Not an Indian who knows the Day-kau-
rays but would take his life if he should meet him!"

Every tie was broken for poor Agathe but that which bound her to her
infant. She never returned to her father's lodge, for she felt that, being
deserted, she was dishonored. Her sole ambition seemed to be to bring up
her child like those of the whites. She attired it in the costume of the
French children, with a dress of bright calico, and a cap of the same,
trimmed with narrow black lace. It was a fine child, and the only time I
ever saw a smile cross her face was when it was commended and caressed by
some member of our family.

Even this, her only source of happiness, poor Agathe was called upon to
resign. During our absence at Green

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Bay, while the Sauks were in the neighborhood, the child was taken
violently ill. The house at Paquette's, which was the mother's home, was
thronged with Indians, and of course there was much noise and disturbance.
My husband had a place prepared for her under our roof, where she could be
more quiet, and receive the attendance of the post physician. It was all
in vain--nothing could save the little creature's life. The bitter agony
of the mother, as she hung over the only treasure she possessed on earth,
was described to me as truly heart-rending. When compelled to part with
it, it seemed almost more than nature could bear. There were friends, not
of her own nation or color, who strove to comfort her. Did the father ever
send a thought or an inquiry after the fate of his child, or of the young
being whose life he had rendered dark and desolate? We will hope that he
did--that he repented and asked pardon from above for the evil he had
wrought.

Agathe had been baptized by M. Mazzuchelli. Perhaps she may have acquired
some religious knowledge which could bring her consolation in her sorrows,
and compensate her for the hopes and joys so early blasted.

She came, some months after the death of her child, in company with
several of the half-breed women of the neighborhood, to pay me a visit of
respect and congratulation on the advent of the young Shaw-nee-aw-kee.
When she looked at her "little brother," as he was called, and took his
soft, tiny hand within her own, the tears stood in her eyes, and she spoke
some little words of tenderness, which showed that her heart was full. I
could scarcely refrain from mingling my tears with hers, as I thought on
all the sorrow and desolation that one man's selfishness had occasioned.

Page 369

Early in February, 1833, my husband and Lieutenant Hunter, in company with
one or two others, set off on a journey to Chicago. That place had become
so much of a town (it contained perhaps fifty inhabitants) that it was
necessary for the proprietors of "Kinzie's Addition" to lay out lots and
open streets through their property. All this was accomplished during the
visit in question.

While they were upon the ground with a surveyor, the attention of my
husband was drawn towards a very bright-looking boy in Indian costume, who
went hopping along by the side of the assistant that carried the chain,
mimicking him as in the course of his operations he cried, "Stick!"
"stuck!" He inquired who the lad was, and, to his surprise, learned that
he was the brother of the old family servants Victoire, Genevieve, and
Baptiste. Tomah, for that was his name, had never been arrayed in
civilized costume; he was in blanket and leggings, and had always lived in
a wigwam. My husband inquired if he would like to go to Fort Winnebago
with him and learn to be a white boy. The idea pleased him much, and, his
mother having given her sanction to the arrangement, he was packed in a
wagon, with the two gentlemen and their travelling gear, when they set
forth on their return-journey.

Tomah had been equipped in jacket and trousers, with the other articles of
apparel necessary to his new sphere and character. They were near the Aux
Plaines, and approaching the residence of Glode (Claude) Laframboise,
where Tomah knew he should meet acquaintances. He asked leave to get out
of the wagon and walk a little way. When the gentlemen next saw him he was
in full Pottowattamie costume: although it was bitter winter weather, he
had put on his uncomfortable native garb rather than show himself to his
old friends in a state of transformation.

Page 370

On his arrival at Fort Winnebago, our first care was to furnish him with a
complete wardrobe, which, having been placed in a box in his sleeping-
apartment, was put under his charge. Words cannot express his delight as
the valuable possessions were confided to him. Every spare moment was
devoted to their contemplation. Now and then Tomah would be missing. He
was invariably found seated by the side of his little trunk, folding and
refolding his clothes, laying them now lengthwise, now crosswise, the
happiest of mortals.

Our next step was to teach him to be useful. Such little offices were
assigned to him at first as might be supposed not altogether new to him,
but we soon observed that when there was anything in the shape of work,
Tomah slipped off to bed, even if it were before he had taken his supper.
Some fish were given him one evening to scale; it was just at dark; but
Tom, according to custom, retired at once to bed.

The cook came to inquire what was to be done. I was under the necessity of
calling in my husband's aid as interpreter. He sent for Tomah. When he
came into the parlor Mr. Kinzie said to him, in Pottowattamie,--

"There are some fish, Tomah, in the kitchen, and we want you to scale
them."

"Now?" exclaimed Tom, with an expression of amazement. "It is very late."

A young lady, Miss Rolette, who was visiting us, and who understood the
language, could not refrain from bursting into a laugh at the simplicity
with which the words were uttered, and we joined her in sympathy, at which
Tom looked a little indignant; but when he understood that it was the
white custom to scale the fish at night, and put salt and pepper on them,
he was soon reconciled to do his duty in the matter.

Page 371

His next office was to lay the table. There was a best service of china,
which was only used when we had company, and a best set of teaspoons,
which I kept in the drawer of a bureau in my own room above-stairs. I was
in the habit of keeping this drawer locked, and putting the key under a
small clock on the mantel-piece. The first time that I had shown Tomah how
to arrange matters for visitors, I had brought the silver and put it on
the table myself.

Soon after, we were to have company to tea again, and I explained to Tomah
that the best china must be used. What was my surprise, on going through
the dining-room a short time after, to see not only the new china, but the
"company silver" also, on the table! I requested our mother, who could
speak with him, to inquire into the matter.

Tomah said, very coolly, "He got the silver where it was kept."

"Did he find the drawer open?"

"No--he opened it with a key."

"Was the key in the drawer?"

"No--it was under that thing on the shelf."

"How did he know it was kept there?"

This was what Mr. Tomah declined telling. We could never ascertain whether
he had watched my movements at any time. No one had ever seen him in that
part of the house, and yet scarcely an article could be mentioned of which
Tomah did not know the whereabouts. If any one was puzzled to find a
thing, it was always,--

"Ask Tomah--he will tell you." And so in fact he did.

He was a subject of much amusement to the young officers. We were to have
a tea-party one evening--all the families and young officers from the
Fort. To make

Page 372

Tomah's appearance as professional as possible, we made him a white apron
with long sleeves to put on while he was helping Mary and Josette to carry
round tea--for I must acknowledge that Tomah's clothes were not kept in as
nice order out of the trunk as in it.

Tom was delighted with his new costume, as well as with the new
employment. He acquitted himself to perfection, for he had never any
difficulty in imitating what he saw another do. After tea we had some
music. As I was standing by the piano, at which one of the ladies was
seated, Lieutenant Vancleve said to me, in a low tone,--

"Look behind you a moment."

I turned. There sat Tom between two of the company, as stately as
possible, with his white apron smoothed down, and his hands clasped before
him, listening to the music, and on the best possible terms with himself
and all around him. Julian and Edwin were hardly able to restrain their
merriment, but they were afraid to do or say anything that would cause him
to move before the company had had a full enjoyment of the scene. It was
voted unanimously that Tomah should be permitted to remain and enjoy the
pleasures of society for one evening; but, with characteristic
restlessness, he got tired as soon as the music was over, and
unceremoniously took his leave of the company.



Page 373

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONCLUSION.

What we had long anticipated of the sufferings of the Indians began to
manifest itself as the spring drew on. Its extent was first brought to our
knowledge by those who came in little parties begging for food.

As long as it was possible to issue occasional rations their Father
continued to do so, but the supplies in the Commissary Department were now
so much reduced that Colonel Cutler did not feel justified in authorizing
anything beyond a scanty relief, and this only in extreme cases.

We had ourselves throughout the winter used the greatest economy with our
own stores, that we might not exhaust our slender stock of flour and meal
before it could be replenished from "below." We had even purchased some
sour flour which had been condemned by the commissary, and had contrived,
by a plentiful use of saleratus and a due proportion of potatoes, to make
of it a very palatable kind of bread. But as we had continued to give to
party after party, when they would come to us to represent their famishing
condition, the time at length arrived when we had nothing to give.

The half-breed families of the neighborhood, who had, like ourselves,
continued to share with the needy as long as their own stock lasted, were
now obliged, of necessity, to refuse further assistance. These women often
came to lament with us over the sad accounts that were brought from the
wintering grounds. It had been a very open

Page 374

winter. The snow had scarcely been enough at any time to permit the
Indians to track the deer; in fact, all the game had been driven off by
the troops and war-parties scouring the country through the preceding
summer.

We heard of their dying by companies from mere inanition, and lying
stretched in the road to the Portage, wither they were striving to drag
their exhausted frames. Soup made of the bark of the slippery elm, or
stewed acorns, were the only food that many had subsisted on for weeks.

We had for a long time received our own food by daily rations from the
garrison, for things had got to such a pass that there was no possibility
of obtaining a barrel of flour at a time. After our meals were finished I
always went into the pantry, and collecting carefully every remaining
particle of food set it aside, to be given to some of the wretched
applicants by whom we were constantly thronged.

One day as I was thus employed, a face appeared at the window with which I
had once been familiar. It was the pretty daughter of the elder Day-kau-
ray. She had formerly visited us often, watching with great interest our
employments--our sewing, our weeding and cultivating the garden, or our
reading. Of the latter, I had many times endeavored to give her some idea,
showing her the plates in the Family Bible, and doing my best to explain
them to her, but of late I had quite lost sight of her. Now, how changed,
how wan she looked! As I addressed her with my ordinary phrase, "Tshah-ko-
zhah?" (What is it?) she gave a sigh that was almost a sob. She did not
beg, but her countenance spoke volumes.

I took my dish and handed it to her, expecting to see her devour the
contents eagerly; but no--she took it, and, making signs that she would
soon return, walked away.

Page 375

When she brought it back, I was almost sure she had not tasted a morsel
herself.

Oh! the boats--the boats with the corn! Why did they not come? We both
wrote and sent to hasten them, but, alas! everything and everybody moved
so slowly in those unenterprising times! We could only feel sure that they
would come when they were ready, and not a moment before.

We were soon obliged to keep both doors and windows fast, to shut out the
sight of misery we could not relieve. If a door were opened for the
admission of a member of the family, some wretched mother would rush in,
grasp the hand of my infant, and, placing that of her famishing child
within it, tell us, pleadingly, that he was imploring "his little brother"
for food. The stoutest man could not have beheld with dry eyes the heart-
rending spectacle which often presented itself. It was in vain that we
screened the lower portion of our windows with curtains. They would climb
up on the outside, and tier upon tier of gaunt, wretched faces would peer
in above, to watch us, and see if indeed we were as ill provided as we
represented ourselves.

The noble old Day-kau-ray came one day, from the Barribault, to apprise us
of the state of his village. More than forty of his people, he said, had
now been for many days without food, save bark and roots. My husband
accompanied him to the commanding officer to tell his story and ascertain
if any amount of food could be obtained from that quarter. The result was,
the promise of a small allowance of flour, sufficient to alleviate the
cravings of his own family.

When this was explained to the chief, he turned away.

Page 376

"No," he said, "if his people could not be relieved, he and his family
would starve with them!" And he refused, for those nearest and dearest to
him, the proffered succor, until all could share alike.

The announcement, at length, that "the boats were in sight," was a
thrilling and most joyful sound.

Hundreds of poor creatures were assembled on the bank, watching their
arrival. Oh! how torturing was their slow approach, by the winding course
of the river, through the extended prairie! As the first boat touched the
land, we, who were gazing on the scene with anxiety and impatience only
equalled by that of the sufferers, could scarcely refrain from laughing,
to see old Wild-Cat, who had some-what fallen off in his huge amount of
flesh, seize "the Washington Woman" in his arms and hug and dance with her
in the ecstasy of his delight.

Their Father made a sign to them all to fall to work with their hatchets,
which they had long held ready, and in an incredibly short time barrel
after barrel of corn was broken open and emptied, while even the little
children possessed themselves of pans and kettles full, and hastened to
the fires that were blazing around to parch and cook that which they had
seized.

From this time forward, there was no more destitution. The present
abundance was immediately followed by the arrival of supplies for the
Commissary's Department; and, refreshed and invigorated, our poor children
departed once more to their villages, to make ready their crops for the
ensuing season.

In the course of the spring, we received a visit from the Rev. Mr. Kent
and Mrs. Kent, of Galena. This event is memorable, as being the first
occasion on which the gospel, according to the Protestant faith, was
preached at Fort Winnebago. The large parlor of the hospital was

Page 377

fitted up for the service, and gladly did we each say to the other, "Let
us go to the house of the Lord!"

For nearly three years had we lived here without the blessing of a public
service of praise and thanksgiving. We regarded this commencement as an
omen of better times, and our little "sewing-society" worked with renewed
industry, to raise a fund which might be available hereafter in securing
the permanent services of a missionary.

Not long after this, on a fine spring morning, as we were seated at
breakfast, a party of Indians entered the parlor, and came to the door of
the room where we were. Two of them passed through, and went out upon a
small portico--the third remained standing in the door-way at which he had
at first appeared. He was nearly opposite me, and as I raised my eyes,
spite of his change of dress, and the paint with which he was covered, I
at once recognized him.

I continued to pour the coffee, and, as I did so, I remarked to my
husband, "The one behind you, with whom you are speaking, is one of the
escaped prisoners."

Without turning his head, Mr. Kinzie continued to listen to all the
directions they were giving him about the repairing of their guns, traps,
etc., which they wished to leave with the blacksmith. As they went on, he
carelessly turned towards the parlor door, and replied to the one speaking
to him. When he again addressed me, it was to say,--

"You are right, but it is no affair of ours. We are none of us to look so
as to give him notice that we suspect anything. They are undoubtedly
innocent, and have suffered enough already."

Page 378

Contrary to his usual custom, their Father did not ask their names, but
wrote their directions, which he tied to their different implements, and
then bade them go and deliver them themselves to M. Morrin.

The rest of our circle were greatly pleased at the young fellow's
audacity, and we quite longed to tell the officers that we could have
caught one of their fugitives for them, if we had had a mind.

The time had now come when we began to think seriously of leaving our
pleasant home, and taking up our residence at Detroit, while making
arrangements for a permanent settlement at Chicago.

This intelligence, when communicated to our Winnebago children, brought
forth great lamentations and demonstrations of regret. From the
surrounding country they came flocking in, to inquire into the truth of
the tidings they had heard, and to petition earnestly that we would
continue to live and die among them.

Among them all, no one seemed so overwhelmed with affliction as Elizabeth,
our poor Cut-Nose. When we first told her of our intention, she sat for
hours in the same spot, wiping away the tears that would find their way
down her cheeks, with the corner of the chintz shawl she wore pinned
across her bosom.

"No! never, never, never shall I find such friends again," she would
exclaim. "You will go away, and I shall be left here all alone."

Wild-Cat, too, the fat, jolly Wild-Cat, gave way to the most audible
lamentations.

"Oh, my little brother," he said to the baby, on the morning of our
departure, when he had insisted on taking

Page 379

him and seating him on his fat, dirty knee, "you will never come back to
see your poor brother again!"

And, having taken an extra glass on the occasion, he wept like an infant.

It was with sad hearts that on the morning of the 1st of July, 1833, we
bade adieu to the long cortege which had followed us to the boat, now
waiting to convey us to Green Bay, where we were to meet Governor Porter
and Mr. Brush, and proceed, under their escort, to Detroit.

When they had completed their tender farewells, they turned to accompany
their Father across the Portage, on his route to Chicago; and long after,
we could see them winding along the road, and hear their loud lamentations
at a parting which they foresaw would be forever.



CHICAGO'S FIRST CHILD DEAD 1909

Special to the Washington Peat.

Bloomington. Ill., Mar. 8.--Mrs. Margaret Ellen Liscom, who was the first
white child born in Chicago after its incorporation as a city, died here
today.

Mrs. Liscom was born in Chicago on March 3, 1836. She was surrounded at
her birth by squaws. Her first bath was in a tub made from Lake Michigan.
She was rocked to sleep in a cradle of bark, and was attended by Indian
maidens, who viewed the white child with curiosity.

Mrs. Liscom's parents were Mr. and Mrs. James Kinzie. They came West soon
after their marriage in Virginia, and settled in Fort Dearborn. The father
of Mrs. Liscom was a fur trader, and left his young wife at Fort Dearborn
while in traveled through the Northwest. The daughter was born while he
was away of one of his long trips.



Page 381

APPENDIX.

I.

As I have given throughout the Narrative of the Sauk War the impressions
we received from our own observation, or from information furnished us at
the time, I think it but justice to Black Hawk and his party to insert, by
way of Appendix, the following account, preserved among the manuscript
records of the late Thomas Forsyth, Esq., of St. Louis, who, after
residing among the Indians many years as a trader, was, until the year
1830, the Agent of the Sauks and Foxes. The manuscript was written in
1832, while Black Hawk and his compatriots were in prison at Jefferson
Barracks.

"The United States troops under the command of Major Stoddard arrived
here(*) and took possession of this country in the month of February,
1804. In the spring of that year, a white person (a man or boy) was killed
in Cuivre Settlement, by a Sauk Indian. Some time in the summer following,
a party of United States troops were sent up to the Sauk village on Rocky
River, and a demand made of the Sauk chiefs for the murderer. The Sauk
chiefs did not hesitate a moment, but delivered him up to the commander of
the troops, who brought him down and delivered him over to the civil
authority in this place (St. Louis).

"Some time in the ensuing autumn some Sauk and

(* St. Louis, Mo.)

Page 382

Fox Indians came to this place, and had a conversation with General
Harrison (then Governor of Indiana Territory, and acting Governor of this
State, then Territory of Louisiana) on the subject of liberating their
relative, then in prison at this place for the above-mentioned murder.

"Quash-quame, a Sauk chief, who was the head man of this party, has
repeatedly said, 'Mr. Pierre Chouteau, Sen., came several times to my
camp, offering that if I would sell the lands on the east side of the
Mississippi River, Governor Harrison would liberate my relation (meaning
the Sauk Indian then in prison as above related), to which I at last
agreed, and sold the lands from the mouth of the Illinois River up the
Mississippi River as high as the mouth of Rocky River (now Rock River),
and east to the ridge that divides the waters of the Mississippi and
Illinois Rivers; but I never sold any more lands.' Quash-quame also said
to Governor Edwards, Governor Clarke, and Mr. Auguste Chouteau,
Commissioners appointed to treat with the Chippewas, Ottawas, and
Pottowattamies of Illinois River, in the summer of 1816, for lands on the
west side of Illinois River,--

"'You white men may put on paper what you please, but again I tell you, I
never sold any lands higher up the Mississippi than the mouth of Rocky
River.'

"In the treaty first mentioned, the line commences opposite to the mouth
of Gasconade River, and running in a direct line to the head-waters of
Jefferson* River, thence down that river to the Mississippi River--thence
up the Mississippi River to the mouth of the Ouisconsin River--thence up
that river thirty-six miles--thence in a direct line to a little lake in
Fox River of Illinois, down Fox* There is no such river in this country,
therefore this treaty is null and void--of no effect in law or equity.
Such was the opinion of the late Governor Howard. (T. F.)

Page 383

River to Illinois River, down Illinois River to its mouth--thence down the
Mississippi River to the mouth of Missouri River--thence up that river to
the place of beginning. See treaty dated at St. Louis, 4th November, 1804.

"The Sauk and Fox nations were never consulted, nor had any hand in this
treaty, nor knew anything about it. It was made and signed by two Sauk
chiefs, one Fox chief and one warrior.

"When the annuities were delivered to the Sauk and Fox nations of Indians,
according to the treaty above referred to (amounting to $1000 per annum),
the Indians always thought they were presents (as the annuity for the
first twenty years was always paid in goods, sent on from Georgetown,
District of Columbia, and poor articles of merchandise they were, very
often damaged and not suitable for Indians), until I, as their Agent,
convinced them of the contrary, in the summer of 1818. When the Indians
heard that the goods delivered to them were annuities for land sold by
them to the United States, they were astonished, and refused to accept of
the goods, denying that they ever sold the lands as stated by me, their
Agent. The Black Hawk in particular, who was present at the time, made a
great noise about this land, and would never receive any part of the
annuities from that time forward. He always denied the authority of Quash-
quame and others to sell any part of their lands, and told the Indians not
to receive any presents or annuities from any American--otherwise their
lands would be claimed at some future day.

"As the United States do insist, and retain the lands according to the
treaty of November 4, 1804, why do they not fulfil their part of that
treaty as equity demands?

"The Sauk and Fox nations are allowed, according to that treaty, 'to live
and hunt on the lands so ceded, as long as the aforesaid lands belong to
the United States.'

Page 384

In the spring of the year 1827, about twelve or fifteen families of
squatters arrived and took possession of the Sauk village, near the mouth
of the Rocky River. They immediately commenced destroying the Indians'
bark boats. Some were burned, others were torn to pieces, and when the
Indians arrived at the village, and found fault with the destruction of
their property, they were beaten and abused by the squatters.

"The Indians made complaint to me, as their Agent. I wrote to General
Clarke,(*) stating to him from time to time what happened, and giving a
minute detail of everything that passed between the whites (squatters) and
the Indians.

"The squatters insisted that the Indians should be removed from their
village, saying that as soon as the land was brought into market they (the
squatters) would buy it all. It became needless for me to show them the
treaty, and the right the Indians had to remain on their lands. They tried
every method to annoy the Indians, by shooting their dogs, claiming their
horses, complaining that the Indians' horses broke into their corn-fields--
selling them whiskey for the most trifling articles, contrary to the
wishes and request of the chiefs, particularly the Black Hawk, who both
solicited and threatened them on the subject, but all to no purpose.

"The President directed those lands to be sold at the Land Office, in
Springfield, Illinois. Accordingly, when the time came that they were to
be offered for sale (in the autumn of 1828), there were about twenty
families of squatters at, and in the vicinity of, the old Sauk village,
most of whom attended the sale, and but one of them could purchase a
quarter-section (if we except George

(* Superintendent of Indian Affairs at St. Louis.)

Page 385

Davenport, a trader who resides in Rocky Island). Therefore, all the land
not sold, still belonged to the United States, and the Indians had still a
right, by treaty, to hunt and live on those lands. This right, however,
was not allowed them--they must move off.

"In 1830, the principal chiefs, and others of the Sauk and Fox Indians who
resided at the old village, near Rocky River, acquainted me that they
would remove to their village on Ihoway River. These chiefs advised me to
write to General Clarke, Superintendent of Indian Affairs at this place
(St. Louis), to send up a few militia--that the Black Hawk and his
followers would then see that everything was in earnest, and they would
remove to the west side of the Mississippi, to their own lands.

"The letter, as requested by the chiefs, was written and sent by me to
General Clarke, but he did not think proper to answer it--therefore
everything remained as formerly, and, as a matter of course, the Black
Hawk and his party thought the whole matter of removing from the old
village had blown over.

"In the spring of 1831, the Black Hawk and his party were augmented by
many Indians from Ihoway River. This augmentation of forces made the Black
Hawk very proud, and he supposed nothing would be done about removing him
and his party.

"General Gaines visited the Black Hawk and his party this season, with a
force of regulars and militia, and compelled them to remove to the west
side of the Mississippi River, on their own lands.

"When the Black Hawk and party re-crossed to the east side of the
Mississippi River in 1832, they numbered three hundred and sixty-eight
men. They were hampered with many women and children, and had no intention
to make war. When attacked by General Stillman's detachment,

Page 386

they defended themselves like men; and I would ask, who would not do so,
likewise? Thus the war commenced.

*********

"The Indians had been defeated, dispersed, and some of the principal
chiefs are now in prison and in chains, at Jefferson Barracks. * * * * * *

"It is very well known, by all who know the Black Hawk, that he has always
been considered a friend to the whites. Often has he taken into his lodge
the wearied white man, given him good food to eat, and a good blanket to
sleep on before the fire. Many a good meal has the Prophet given to people
travelling past his village, and very many stray horses has he recovered
from the Indians and restored to their rightful owners, without asking any
recompense whatever. * * * * *

"What right have we to tell any people, 'You shall not cross the
Mississippi River on any pretext whatever'? When the Sauk and Fox Indians
wish to cross the Mississippi, to visit their relations among the
Pottowattamies of Fox River, Illinois, they are prevented by us, because
we have the power!"

I omit the old gentleman's occasional comments upon the powers that
dictated, and the forces which carried on, the warfare of this unhappy
summer. There is every reason to believe that had his suggestions been
listened to, and had he continued the Agent of the Sauks and Foxes, a sad
record might have been spared,--we should assuredly not have been called
to chronicle the untimely fate of his successor, the unfortunate M. St.
Vrain, who, a comparative stranger to his people, was murdered by them, in
their exasperated fury, at Kellogg's Grove, soon after the commencement of
the campaign.



Page 387

II.

It seems appropriate to notice in this place the subsequent appearance
before the public of one of the personages casually mentioned in the
foregoing narrative.

In the autumn of 1864 we saw advertised for exhibition at Wood's Museum,
Chicago, "The most remarkable instance of longevity on record--the
venerable Joseph Crely, born on the 13th of September, 1726, and having
consequently reached, at this date, the age of ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINE
YEARS!" Sundry particulars followed of his life and history, and, above
all, of his recollections.

"Well done for old Crely!" said my husband, when he had gone through the
long array. "Come, let us go over to Wood's Museum and renew our
acquaintance with the venerable gentleman."

I did not need a second invitation, for I was curious to witness the
wonders which the whirligig of time had wrought with our old employe.

We chose an early hour for our visit, that we might pay our respects to
both him and the granddaughter who had him in charge, unembarrassed by the
presence of strangers.

In a large room on the second floor of the building, among cages of birds
and animals, some stuffed, others still living, we perceived, seated by a
window, a figure clad in bright cashmere dressing-gown and gay tasselled
cap, tranquilly smoking a tah-nee-hoo-rah, or long Indian pipe. His form
was upright, his face florid, and less changed than might have been
expected by the thirty-one years that had elapsed since we had last seen
him. He was alone, and my husband addressed him at first in English:--

"Good-morning, M. Crely. Do you remember me?" He shook his head
emphatically. "Je ne comprends

Page 388

pas. Je ne me ressouviens de rien--je suis vieux, vieux--le treize
Septembre, mil sept cent vingt-six, je suis ne. Non, non," with a few
gentle shakes of the head, "je ne puis rappeler rien--je suis vieux,
vieux."(*)

My husband changed his inquiries to the patois which Crely could not feign
not to comprehend.

"Where is your granddaughter? I am acquainted with her, and would like to
speak with her."

The old man sprang up with the greatest alacrity, and, running to a door
in the wooden partition which cut off a corner of the room and thus
furnished an apartment for the ancient phenomenon, he rapped vigorously,
and called, in accents quite unlike his former feeble, drawling tones,--

"Therese, Therese--il y a icite un monsieur qui voudrait vous voir."(**)

The granddaughter presently made her appearance. She looked shyly at my
husband from under her brows.

"Do you know me, Therese?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. It is Mr. Kinzie."

"And do you know me also?" I said, approaching. She looked at me and shook
her head.

"No, I do not," she replied.

"What, Therese! Have you forgotten Madame John, who taught you to read--
you and all the little girls at the Portage?"

"Oh, my heavens, Mrs. Kinzie!--but you have changed so!"

"Yes, Therese, I have grown old in all these years; but I have not grown
old quite so fast as your grandpapa here."

There was a flash in her eye that told she felt my meaning.

(* I do not understand. I remember nothing. I am very, very old--the
thirteenth of September, 1726, I was born. No, no--I can recollect
nothing. I am old, old.)

(** Therese, there is a gentleman here who wishes to see you.)

Page 389

She hung her head without speaking, while the color deepened over her
countenance.

"Now," said I, in French, to the grandfather, "you remember me--"

He interrupted me with a protest, "Non, non--je ne puis rappeler rien--je
suis vieux, vieux--le treize Septembre, mil sept cent vingt-six, je suis
ne a Detroit."

"And you recollect," I went on, not heeding his formula, "how I came to
the Portage a bride, and lived in the old cabins that the soldiers had
occupied--"

"Eh b'an! oui--oui--"

"And how you helped make the garden for me--and how Plante and Manaigre
finished the new house so nicely while Monsieur John was away for the
silver--and how there was a feast after it was completed--"

"Ah! oui, oui--pour le sur."

"And where are all our people now?" I asked, turning to Therese. "Louis
Frum dit Manaigre--is he living?"

"Oh," Madame Kinzie! You remember that--Manaigre having two names?"

"Yes, Therese--I remember everything connected with those old times at the
Portage. Who among our people there are living?"

"Only Manaigre is left," she said.

"Mais, mais, Therese," interposed the old man, "Manaigre's daughter
Genevieve is living." It was a comfort to find our visit of such
miraculous benefit to his memory.

"And the Puans--are any of them left?" I asked.

"Not more than ten or twelve, I think--" Again her grandfather promptly
contradicted her:--

"Mais, mais, je compte b'an qu'il y en a quinze ou seize, Therese;" and he
went quite glibly over the names of such of his red friends as still
hovered around their old home in that vicinity.

Page 390

He was in the full tide of gay reminiscence, touching upon experiences and
adventures of long ago, and recalling Indian and half-breed acquaintances
of former days, when footsteps approached, and the entrance of eager,
curious visitors suddenly reminded him of his appointed role. It was
marvellous how instantaneously he subsided into the superannuated
driveller who was to bear away the bell from Old Parr and all the Emperor
Alexander's far-sought fossils.

"Je suis vieux, vieux--l'an mil sept cent vingt-six--le treize Septembre,
a Detroit--je ne puis rappeler rien."

Not another phrase could "all the King's armies, or all the King's men,"
have extorted from him.

So we left him to the admiring comments of the newcomers. I think it
should be added, in extenuation of what would otherwise seem a gross
imposture, that his grand-daughter was really ignorant of Crely's exact
age--that he, being ever a gasconading fellow, was quite ready to
personate that certain Joseph Crely whose name appears on the baptismal
records of the Church in Detroit of the year 1726. He was, moreover,
pleased with the idea of being gaily dressed and going on a tour to see
the world, and doubtless rejoiced, also, in the prospect of relieving his
poor granddaughter of a part of the burden of his maintenance. He was
probably at this time about ninety-five years of age. There are those that
knew him from 1830, who maintain that his age was a few years less; but I
take the estimate of Mr. Kinzie and H. L. Dousman, of Prairie du Chien,
who set him down, in 1864, at about the age I have assigned to him.

THE END.




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"In all the portraiture, description, dialogue and incident of the book
there is a fresh originality, a vivid dramatic power, a knowledge of the
mystery of life, that few possess. Here is a writer who will be, perhaps,
as great as George Eliot."--New York Evening Mail.

"In many respects one of the best and most powerful works of fiction that
have been lately issued." -- Boston Journal.

Hester Kirton. A Novel. By Katherine S. MacQuoid,
author of "Rookstone," "A Bad Beginning," "Chesterford," etc. A new
edition. 16mo. Ornamented cloth. $1 25.

"It is altogether one of the best publications of the day."--Philadelphia
Age.

"By far one of the best novels that have been sent to us this season."--
New Orleans Times.

Rookstone. A Novel. By Katherine S. MacQuoid,
author of "Forgotten by the World," "Hester Kirton," "Patty," etc.
Illustrated. 8vo. Paper cover. 75 cents. Extra cloth. $1.25.

"Well constructed and clearly told. We recommend it to novel readers."--
Philadelphia Press.

"It is 1admirably written and excellent in tone."--New York Evening Mail.



Seed-Time and Harvest; or, During my Apprenticeship.
From the Platt-Deutsch of Fritz Reuter. 8vo. Paper cover. $1 Extra cloth.
$1.50.

No German author of the present time is more popular in his own country
than Reuter. He is pronounced by a competent German critic to be
deservedly "the most popular German writer of the last half century."

Reuter is especially noted as the rare humorist, the genuine poet and the
fascinating delineator of the lives of his Platt-Deutsch neighbors, and as
such is probably more beloved than any other German author of the day. The
tale in question is one of his best and most important works, giving its
readers, with its other entertainment and profit, a charming acquaintance
with the quaint, interesting Platt-Deutsch people.

"Fritz Reuter is one of the most popular writers in Germany. . .The charm
of his stories lies in their simplicity and exquisite truth to Nature. He
has 'the loving heart' which Carlyle tells us is the secret of writing;
and Reuter is not graphic merely, he is photographic. His characters
impress one so forcibly with their reality that one need not to be told
they are portraits from life. Even the villains must have been old
acquaintances. . . It ('During my Apprenticeship&') is one of the best of
Reuter's stories, exhibiting his turn for the pathetic as well as for the
humorous."--New York Evening Post.

"It has a freshness and novelty that are rare in these times."--
Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.

The Sylvestres; or, The Outcasts. A Novel. By
M. de Betham-Edwards, author of "Kitty," "Dr. Jacob," etc. Illustrated.
8vo. Paper. 75 cents. Extra cloth. $1.25.

"It is an exceptionally vigorous and healthy as well as happy tale."--
Philadelphia North American.

"It is one of the author's best."--New York Home Journal.

"A capital novel."--Pittsburg Gazette.

"The story is well constructed, and the descriptive passages with which
the work abounds are worthy of the highest praise. The sketches of scenery
are painted with the touch of an artist."--Philadelphia Ev. Bulletin.

Myself. A Romance of New England Life.
12mo. Extra cloth. $2.

"This is really a capital story. The characters are drawn with a free and
sharp pen, the style is fresh and lively and the plot quite unhackneyed"--
Boston Courier.

How will it End? A Romance. By J. C. Heywood,
author of "Herodias," "Antonius," etc. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"It is a fascinating novel, which must exert a good influence, and one
that should be widely read."--Wilkes's Spirit of the Times.

Doings in Maryland; or, Matilda Douglas.
"Truth Stranger than Fiction." 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.75.

"It is a very perfect story--simple, noble and without that straining for
literary effect which constitutes the best attainable definition of the
sensational."--New York Home Journal.



Dorothy Fox. A Novel. By Louisa Parr, author
of "How it all Happened," etc. With numerous Illustrations. 8vo. Paper
cover. 75 cents. Extra cloth. $1.25

"The Quaker character, though its quaintness and simplicity may seem easy
enough to catch, requires a delicate workman to do it justice. Such an
artist is the author of 'Dorothy Fox,' and we must thank her for a
charming novel. The story is dramatically interesting, and the characters
are drawn with a firm and graceful hand. The style is fresh and natural,
vigorous without vulgarity, simple without mawkishness. Dorothy herself is
represented as charming all hearts, and she will charm all readers. . . We
wish 'Dorothy Fox' many editions."--London Times.

"One of the best novels of the season."--Philadelphia Press.

"The characters are brought out in life-like style, and cannot fail to
attract the closest attention."--Pittsburg Gazette.

"It is admirably told, and will establish the reputation of the author
among novelists."--Albany Argus.

How it all Happened. By Louisa Parr, author of
"Dorothy Fox," etc. 12mo. Paper cover. 25 cents.

"It is not often that one finds so much pleasure in reading a love story,
charmingly told in a few pages."--Charleston Courier.

"Is a well-written little love story, in which a great deal is said in a
very few words."--Philadelphia Evening Telegraph.

"A remarkably clever story."--Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.

John Thompson, Blockhead, and Companion Portraits.
By Louisa Parr, author of "Dorothy Fox," 12mo. With Frontispiece. Extra
cloth. $1.75.

"Extremely well-told stories, interesting in characters and incidents, and
pure and wholesome in sentiment."--Boston Watchman and Reflector.

"These are racy sketches, and belong to that delightful class in which the
end comes before the reader is ready for it.

"The style throughout is very simple and fresh, abounding in strong,
vivid, idiomatic English." -- Home Journal.

"They are quite brilliant narrative sketches, worthy of the reputation
established by the writer." -- Philadelphia Inquirer.

"Very presentable, very readable."--New York Times.

The Quiet Miss Godolphin, by Ruth Garret: and
A CHANCE CHILD, by Edward Garrett, joint authors of "Occupations of a
Retired Life" and "White as Snow." With Six Illustrations by Townley
Green. 16mo. Cloth. 75 cents. Paper cover. 50 cents.

"These stories are characterized by great strength and beauty of thought,
with a singularly attractive style. Their influence will not fail to
improve and delight."--Philadelphia Age.

St. Cecilia. A Modern Tale from Real Life.
Part I.--Adversity. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1 50.

"It is carefully and beautifully written."--Washington Chronicle.

"A tale that we can cheerfully recommend as fresh, entertaining and well
written." -- Louisville Courier Journal.



Blanche Gilroy. A Girl's Story. A Novel. By
Margaret Hosmer, author of "The Morrisons," "Ten Years of a Lifetime,"
etc. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"Its tone is excellent."--Philadelphia Age.

"It is a love-story of the intense and tragical sort, with a deep plot and
any amount of stirring incident. The characters are drawn with much
distinctness and vigor, and the story sweeps on to its end amid a rushing
whirl of cross-purposes with decoying fascination. It must be said, too,
that the secret of the interest is in the characters and their destinies,
since the language of the narrative is neither florid nor exaggerated."--
Boston Advertiser.

The Holcombes. A Story of Virginia Home-Life.
By Mary Tucker Magill. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"The subject is a charming one."--Winchester Times.

"This book is written from an elevated point of view, both as to its
society and scenery. . . We find it an interesting story. . . The tone of
this work is admirable, and we shall be glad to hear again from the
author."--Philadelphia Age.

Left to Herself. A Novel. By Jennie Woodville.
12mo. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"Such a spicy mixture of ingredients as this book contains cannot fail to
make an exciting story; and as the plot is well conceived, the characters
well drawn and the interest well sustained to the end, without
degenerating into the melo-dramatic, we are disposed to recommend to
others a book which we ourselves have found captivating enough to burn the
midnight gas over." -- Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.

"Amid the flood of mediocrity and trash that is poured upon the public in
the shape of novels, it is the pleasantest duty of the critic to discern
real merit, and this we recognize in 'Left to Herself.'"--The Philadelphia
Age.

"We predict for it a large sale in this section, and anticipate that it
will be favorably received by the reading public of the whole country."--
Lynchburg Republican.

Was She Engaged? A Novel. By "Jonquil."
12mo. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"A pleasant, bright and sparkling story."--Baltimore Gazette.

"This entertaining love story comes to us fresh from the pen and the
press, in clear, readable type that would make a far less enticing work
pleasurable. We feel assured that those who are fond of the purely
emotional in character or literature will find ample entertainment from
its pages. The story is written in the first person, and is a narrative
vastly superior to a great mass of so-called novels. There is not a
particle of rant from cover to cover. No passion is 'torn to tatters.' No
impossible incidents are introduced, and yet the interest is maintained
throughout. The pure, sweet character of Lucy, so well displayed against
the more energetic but less poetical Rosamond; the sunlight and shadow of
these two, enhanced by the dark and designing character of Sarah, combine
to produce prominent impressions."--Philadelphia Press.

"Every one seems to be going for 'Was She Engaged.'"--Boston Saturday
Evening Gazette.

Lost and Saved. A Novel. By Hon. Mrs. Norton.
New Edition. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25.

"Remarkably well written; . . .very readable."--Philadelphia Press.

"The best novel that Mrs. Norton has written."



Eleonore. A Romance. After the German of E
Von Rothenfels, author of "On the Vistula," "Heath-flower," etc. By
Frances Elizabeth Bennett, translator of "Lowly Ways." 12mo. Fine cloth.
Ornamented. $1.50.

"A vivid reproduction of German life and character."--Boston Globe.

"A bright, readable novel."--Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.

"The plot is developed with remarkable skill."--Boston Saturday Evening
Gazette.

Tom Pippin's Wedding. A Novel. By the Author
of "The Fight at Dame Europa's School." 16mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper
cover. 75 cents.

"We must confess that its perusal has caused us more genuine amusement
than we have derived from any fiction, not professedly comic, for many a
long day. . .Without doubt this is, if not the most remarkable, certainly
the most original, novel of the day."--London Bookseller.

"It is fresh in characterization, and is as instructive as it is
entertaining."--Boston Evening Traveller.

Irene. A Tale of Southern Life. Illustrated; and
HATHAWAY STRANGE. 8vo. Paper cover. 35 cents.

"They are both cleverly written."--New Orleans Times.

"These stories are pleasantly written. They are lively, gossippy and
genial."--Baltimore Gazette.

Wearithorne; or, In the Light of To-Day. A
Novel. By "Fadette," author of "Ingemisco" and "Randolph Honor." 12mo.
Extra cloth. $1.50.

"Written with exceptional dramatic vigor and terseness, and with strong
powers of personation." -- Philadelphia North American.

"It is written with vogor, and the characters are sketched with a marked
individuality."--Literary Gazette.

"The style is clever and terse, the characters are boldly etched, and with
strong individualities."--New Orleans Times.

"Simply and tenderly written."--Washington Chronicle.

Steps Upward. A Temperance Tale. By Mrs.
F. D. Gage, author of "Elsie Magoon," etc. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"'Steps Upward,' by Mrs. Frances Dana Gage, is a temperance story of more
than ordinary interest. Diana Dinmont, the heroine, is an earnest, womanly
character, and in her own upward progress helps many another to a better
life."--New York Independent.

"We are sure no reader can but enjoy and profit by it." -- New York
Evening Mail.

Minna Monte. A Novel. By "Stella."
12mo. $1.25.

"A domestic story possessing great spirit and many other attractive
features"--St. Louis Republican.

"We have in this tittle volume an agreeable story, pleasantly told." --
Pittsburg Gazette.



"It is the Fashion." A Novel. From the German
of Adelheid von Auer. By the translator of "Over Yonder," "Magdalena,"
"The Old Countess." etc. 12mo. Fine cloth. $1.50.

"It is one of the most charming books of the times, and is admirable for
its practical, wise and beautiful morality. A more natural and graceful
work of its kind we never before read"--Richmond Dispatch.

"This is a charming novel; to be commended not only for the interest of
the story, but for the fine healthy tone that pervades it. . .This work
has not the excessive elaboration of many German novels, which make them
rather tedious for American readers, but is fresh, sprightly and full of
common sense applied to the business of actual life."--Philadelphia Age.

"It is a most excellent book, abounding in pure sentiment and beautiful
thought, and written in a style at once lucid, graceful and
epigrammatic."--New York Evening Mail.

Dead Men's Shoes. A Novel. By J. R. Hadermann,
author of "Forgiven at Last." 12mo. Fine cloth. $2.

"One of the best novels of the season"--Philadelphia Press.

"One of the best novels descriptive of life at the South that has yet been
published. The plot is well contrived, the characters well contrasted and
the dialogue crisp and natural."--Baltimore Gazette.

Israel Mort, Overman. A Story of the Mine. By
John Saunders, author of "Abel Drake's Wife," Illustrated. 16mo. Fine
cloth. $1.25.

"Intensely dramatic. . . Some of the characters are exquisitely drawn, and
show the hand of a master."--Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.

"The book takes a strong hold on the reader's attention from the first,
and the interest does not flag for a moment."--Boston Globe.

"The denouement, moral and artistic, is very fine,"--New York Evening Mail.

"It treats of a variety of circumstances and characters almost new to the
realm of fiction, and has a peculiar interest on this account." -- Boston
Advertiser.

In the Rapids. A Romance. By Gerald Hart.
12mo. Toned paper. Extra cloth. $1.50.

"Full of tragic interest."--Cincinnati Gazette.

"It is, on the whole, remarkably well told, and is particularly notable
for its resemblance to those older and, in some respects, better models of
composition in which the dialogue is subordinated to the narrative, and
the effects are wrought out by the analytical powers of the writer."--
Baltimore Gazette.

The Parasite; or, How to Make One's Fortune.
A Comedy in Five Acts. After the French of Picard, 12mo. Paper cover. 75
cents.

"A Pleasant, sprightly comedy, unexceptionable in its moral and chaste in
its language. As our amateur actors are always in pursuit of plays of this
character, we should suppose they would find this a valuable addition to
their stock."--Philadelphia Age.