133. Much historical and other information is contained in the messages of the governors and reports of the various state officers, and especially in the Legislative Manuals prepared for the use of the members of the legislature by the secretary of state, under chapter 122 of the General Laws of 1893, and former laws. These Manuals, and especially that of 1899, are replete with valuable statistics concerning the state, its history and resources.
134. Ill.u.s.trated History of Minnesota, by T. H. Kirk, M. L., 1887.
135. Ancestry, Life and Times of Henry Hastings Sibley, by Nathaniel West, D. D., 1889.
136. Minnesota and Dacotah in Letters descriptive of a Tour through the Northwest in the Autumn of 1856, with information relative to public lands and a table of statistics, by General C. C. Andrews.
137. Lights and Shadows of a Long Episcopate by the Rt. Rev.
Henry Benjamin Whipple, D. D., L. L. D., Bishop of Minnesota.
138. Reminiscences, Memoirs and Lectures of Monsignor A. Ravoux, V. G. 1890.
139. Encyclopedia of Biography of Minnesota, with a History of Minnesota, by Judge Charles E. Flandrau.
FINIS.
TALES OF THE FRONTIER.
HUNTING WOLVES IN BED.
Forty-six years ago, almost immediately after my arrival in St. Paul, I accepted an offer to explore the valley of the Minnesota river and its tributaries, with reference to finding out the character of its soil, timber, steamboat landings and other natural features, bearing upon the founding of a city. My attention was particularly directed to the point where St. Peter now stands, which had then acquired the name of Rock Bend, from a turn in the river in front of the prairie, with a rocky wall which presented a fine landing for steamboats. Of course, the valley was not a _terra incognito_ when I entered it, but settlement was very spa.r.s.e, and very little was known about it. Town-site speculation was rife, and any place that looked as if it would ever be settled was being pounced upon for a future city. There was not a railroad west of Chicago, and every town location was, of course, governed by the rivers.
As strange as it may seem to the residents of the present day, the Minnesota was then a navigable stream, capable of carrying large side wheel steamers several hundred miles above its mouth, and afterwards bore an immense commerce. As soon as the ice broke up in the spring, the river would rise and overflow its banks clear to the bluffs on each side, making a stream of from five to six miles wide, and deep enough to float boats anywhere within its limits.
A man by the name of William B. Dodd, better known as Captain Dodd in those days, had selected a claim at Rock Bend, covering the landing, and had laid out a road from the Mississippi to this point. He wanted to interest capitalists to start a town on his claim, and had succeeded in gaining the attention of Willis A. Gorman, then governor of the territory, and several other gentlemen, but none of them had ever been up the valley, and reliable information was difficult to obtain. It was true that Tom Holmes had laid out Shakopee, and Henry Jackson and P. K.
Johnson, with a syndicate behind them, had selected Mankato, and I think there was a settler or two at Le Sueur, but the whole valley may be said to have been at that time in the possession of Indians, Indian traders and missionaries.
The St. Paul gentlemen who had been approached by Captain Dodd engaged me to go up the valley of the Minnesota river, and follow out all its tributaries, with the idea of reporting upon its general characteristics and prospects, with reference to the founding of a city at Rock Bend. I was delighted to do anything, or go anywhere, that promised work or adventure. It was to me what the Klondike has been to thousands recently. They furnished me with a good team, and away I went. It was in the winter, but I succeeded in reaching Traverse des Sioux, where I found a collection of Indian trading houses, where flourished Louis Roberts, Major Forbes, Nathan Myrick, Madison Sweetzer and others, who drove a trade with the Sioux. There was also at this point a missionary station, with a schoolhouse, a church, and a substantial dwelling house, occupied by the Rev. Moses N. Adams, who had been a missionary among the Sioux, having been transferred from the station at Lac qui Parle, where he had lived for many years, to this point. But the best find that I made was a young Scotchman by the name of Stuart B. Garvie, who had a shanty on the prairie about midway between Traverse des Sioux and my objective point, Rock Bend. I think that Garvie went up there from St.
Anthony, under some kind of a promise from Judge Chatfield, that if ever the courts were organized in that region he would be made clerk. Garvie was delighted to discover me, and I being in search of information, we soon fraternized, and he agreed to go with me on my tour of exploration.
We went up the Blue Earth, the Le Sueur, the Watonwan, and, in fact, visited all the country that was necessary to convince me that it was, by and large, a splendid agricultural region, and I decided so to report to my princ.i.p.als.
When I was about to leave for down the river, Garvie insisted that I should return and take up my abode at Traverse des Sioux. The proposition seemed too absurd to me to be seriously entertained, and I said: "I am dest.i.tute of funds, and how can a lawyer subsist where there are no people? How can I get a living?" This dilemma, which seemed to me to be insuperable, was easily answered by my new found friend. "Why," he said, "That is the easiest part of it. We can hunt a living, and I have a shack and a bed." The proposition was catching, having a spice of adventure in it, and I promised to consider it.
After making my report, in which I recommended Rock Bend as a promising place for a great city, I told the parties who proposed to purchase Captain Dodd"s claim that I would confirm my faith in the success of the enterprise by returning and living at the point. I did so, and found myself farther west than any lawyer in the United States east of the Rocky Mountains, unless he was in the panhandle of Texas. And now comes the singular way in which I made my first fee, if I may call it by that name. It was my first financial raise, no matter what you call it.
Garvie and I had gotten quietly settled in our shanty on the prairie, when one excessively cold night an Indian boy, about thirteen years of age, saw our light, and came to the door, giving us to understand that his people were encamped about four or five miles up the river, and that he was afraid to go any further lest he should freeze to death. He was mounted on a pony, had a pack of furs with him, and asked us to take him in for the night. We of course did so, and made him as comfortable as we could by giving him a buffalo robe on the floor. But we had no shelter for his pony, and all we could do was to hitch him on the lee side of the shanty, and strap a blanket on him. When morning came he was frozen to death. We got the poor little boy safely off on the way to his people"s camp, and decided to utilize the carca.s.s of the pony for a wolf bait.
In order to present an intelligent idea of the situation, I will say that the river made an immense detour in front of the future town, having a large extent of bottom land, covered with a dense chaparral, which was the home of thousands of wolves, and as soon as night came they would start out in droves in search of prey.
We hauled the dead pony out to the back of the shanty, and left it about two rods distant from the window. The moment night set in the wolves in packs would attack the carca.s.s. At first we would step outside and fire into them with buck shot from double-barrelled shotguns, but we found they were so wary that the mere movement of opening the door to get out would frighten them, and we had very limited success for the first few nights. Another difficulty we encountered was shooting in the dark. If you have never tried it, and ever do, you will find it exceedingly difficult to get any kind of an aim, and you have to fire promiscuously at the sound rather than the object.
We remedied this trouble, however, by taking out a light of gla.s.s from the back window, and building a rest that bore directly on the carca.s.s, so that we could poke our guns through the opening, settle them on the rest, and blaze away into the gloom. We brought our bed up to the window, so that we could shoot without getting out of it, while snugly wrapped up in our blankets. After this our luck improved, and after each discharge we would rush out, armed with a tomahawk, dispatch the wounded wolves, and collect the dead ones, until we had slaughtered forty-two of them. We skinned them, and sold the pelts to the traders for seventy-five cents a piece, which money was the first of our earnings.
It was not long before we ceased to depend on wolf hunting for a living, as immigration soon poured in, and money became plenty. I remember soon after of having seventeen hundred dollars in gold buried in an oyster can under the shanty.
I lived on this prairie for eleven years, and never was happier at any period of my life, and feel a.s.sured that I can safely say that no other man ever enjoyed the luxury of hunting wolves in bed.
The pleasure of narrating such adventures for the present generation is, in this instance, marred by the reflection that both Captain Dodd and my old friend Garvie were killed by the Indians in 1862, the former while gallantly fighting at the battle of New Ulm, and the latter at the Yellow Medicine Agency, on the first day of the outbreak.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
THE POISONED WHISKY.
I was told by a gentleman at my club the other day that he had read in some magazine that the British army had blown open the tomb of the Mahdi in upper Africa, and had mutilated the body, cutting off the head and sending it to England in a kerosene can. I could hardly believe the story, but he vouched for having read it in a reputable publication, and being a strong hater of the English, affirmed his unqualified faith in the statement. Notwithstanding his position, it seemed to me incredible that such an act of barbarism could be perpetrated by the disciplined soldiery of a civilized nation in the nineteenth century. The conversation so impressed me that I could not drive it out of my mind, and I kept revolving it and making comparisons with events in my own experience, until I concluded that it is more than probable that it took place as related, and have since learned that it actually occurred.
I have seen a good deal of ferocity and savagism, and it was not at all confined to people acknowledged to be barbarians. I remember an instance where I came very near being a party to a scheme, the brutality of which would have made the mutilation of the dead Mahdi commendable in comparison; but fortunately my better nature and second thought overcame my pa.s.sions, and I was spared the perpetration of the awful crime, the remembrance of which, had it been committed, would undoubtedly have haunted me through life.
Many of the older settlers of Minnesota will remember the horrors of the Indian ma.s.sacre and war of 1862, when the Sioux attacked our exposed frontiers, and in a day and a half ma.s.sacred quite a thousand people.
They spared neither age nor s.e.x. It was like all such savage outbreaks,--a war against the race and the blood. These atrocities extended over a large and spa.r.s.ely inhabited area of country, and were usually perpetrated at the houses of the settlers by the slaughter of the entire family, sometimes varied by the seizure of the women, and carrying them off into captivity, which in most instances was worse than death. Every character of mutilation and outrage that could be suggested by the inflamed pa.s.sions of a savage were resorted to, and so horrible were they that it would shock and disgust the reader should I attempt to describe them. This condition of things was no surprise to me, because it was to be expected from savages; but the more we saw and heard of it, the more exasperated and angered we became, and the more we vowed vengeance should the opportunity come.
I resided on the frontier at the time the outbreak occurred, and murders were committed within eight miles of my home before I heard of it, which was on the morning of the second day. I, of course, immediately, after disposing of my impedimenta in the shape of women and children, took the field against the enemy, and by nine o"clock in the evening of the same day that I heard of the trouble I found myself at the town of New Ulm, a German settlement on the frontier, the extreme outpost of civilization, in command of over one hundred men, armed and ready for battle. We had raised and equipped the company and travelled thirty-two miles since the morning.
When we entered the town it was being attacked by a squad of Indians, about one hundred strong, who had already burned a number of houses and were firing upon the inhabitants, having already killed several. We soon dislodged the enemy, put out the fires, and settled down to await events. This was on Tuesday, the 19th of August. We strengthened the barricades about the town, and did all we could to prepare for a second attack, which we knew would certainly come, and from the combined forces of the enemy, and which did come on the following Sat.u.r.day. While waiting, numerous squads of whites from the surrounding country reenforced us, and it soon became apparent that someone must be put in command of the whole force, to prevent disorders on the part of the men, as whisky was abundant and free. The honor of the command fell upon me by election of the officers of the various companies, and in the choice of a rank for myself my modesty restrained me to that of colonel. I have often thought since that I lost the opportunity of my life, as I might just as easily have a.s.sumed the t.i.tle of major general.
Every day we sent out scouting expeditions, and brought in refugees, men, women and children, who were in hiding or wounded, and in the most pitiable condition. From these we learned of many additional atrocities, which kept our pa.s.sions and desire for revenge at fever heat. On Sat.u.r.day, the 23d, the Indians who had been all the week besieging Fort Ridgely, abandoned that quest, and came down upon us in full force. The attack commenced about half-past nine o"clock on Sat.u.r.day morning, and the fight raged hotly and viciously for about thirty hours without cessation. I lost in the first hour and a half ten killed and fifty wounded, out of a command of not more than 250 guns. On the afternoon of the next day the Indians gradually disappeared toward the north, and gave us a breathing spell, and then a relief company arrived and the fighting ceased.
On Monday ammunition and provisions were getting short, and fearing a renewal of the attack, I decided to evacuate the town, and go down the Minnesota river to Mankato, a distance of about thirty miles over an open prairie. We had nearly fifteen hundred women and children to take care of, and about eighty wounded men. The caravan consisted of 153 wagons, drawn by horses and oxen; the troops being on foot, and so disposed as to make a good defense if attacked.
Everything being ready for a start, some one suggested to me to set a trap for the Indians, when they should enter the town after our departure, as we all supposed they would, there being an immense amount of loot left behind,--stores full of goods of all kinds, and many other things of value to the savage.
I had, the day before, put a stop to some of the younger men scalping the eight or ten dead Indians who had been dragged into the town from where they had been killed, regarding it as barbarous. The boys would take off a small piece of scalp, and with its long black hair, tie it into their b.u.t.ton-holes, as a souvenir to take home with them.
What do you think was the nature of the trap that was proposed to catch the Indians? It makes my blood run cold to think of it, and so disgraceful and diabolical was it that, in all I have said and written about this war in the last thirty-six years, I have never had courage to mention it. Yet as awful as it was, so incensed was I at all the devilish cruelty that had been perpetrated on our people that I at first consented to it, and we went so far as actually to set the trap.
It was proposed to expose a barrel of whisky in a conspicuous place, and put enough strychnine in it to destroy the whole Sioux nation, and then label it "poison" in all the languages spoken in our polyglot country, so that should the first comers be whites they would avoid it, but if Indians, we might have the satisfaction of exterminating them. We actually went so far as to place the barrel where it would attract anyone who should be looking about the main street, which was all that was left of the town, and labelled it in French, English, German, Italian, Swedish and Norwegian, and then put into it eight or ten bottles of strychnine, prepared for destroying wolves, and were about leaving when the thought flashed through my mind: "Suppose a relief squad should be sent to us, and should think the whole matter a joke to cheat them out of a drink, and should sample it and die, as they certainly would, we never could forgive ourselves, and would be really their murderers." My knowledge of the fact that a soldier who had made a long march on a hot day would take big chances for a drink, heightened my apprehension on this view of the subject, and the more I thought the matter over, the more devilish it appeared to me, even if we caught only Indians. I actually felt as though I would be ashamed to meet the spirit of even a savage enemy whom I had disposed of in such a cowardly manner, should we finally be consigned to the same happy hunting grounds, so I took an axe and knocked the head of the barrel in, and let the contents into the street. While I deeply regretted the loss of so much good whisky, I have never thought of the occurrence since without inwardly rejoicing that my better nature and judgment prevented me from committing such an offense against all the laws of honor, humanity and civilization. It turned out that the first arrival was a squad sent by General Sibley to our relief, and from what I know of some of the men composing it, I am quite certain that the warning would have been disregarded. The circ.u.mstance, however, proves how deeply the savage instinct is imbedded in human nature, whatever the color of the skin.
"Give us strength to resist temptation," has been my prayer ever since.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
FUN IN A BLIZZARD.
The winter of 1856, in Minnesota, was characterized by the usual amount of cold weather, snow and storms, and people operating on the frontier were compelled to exercise great care and caution to prevent disasters.
All old timers who have had occasion to live beyond the settlements and travel long distances in an open prairie country well know that the danger of being overtaken by storms is one of the most terrible that one can be exposed to. Most of the casualties, however, that result from being caught in these storms may be attributed to want of experience, and consequent lack of preparation to meet and contend with them. I have employed many men of all nationalities in teaming long distances on the prairie frontier in the winter season, and while the American is always reliable and dexterous in emergencies, I have found the French Canadian always the best equipped for winter prairie work, in his knowledge in this line that can only be gained by experience. His ancestors served the early fur companies from Montreal to McKenzie"s river, from Hudson"s bay to the Pacific, and knew how to take care of themselves with the unerring instinct of the cariboo and the moose, and the generation of them that I came in contact with had inherited all these characteristics.