It was supposed that when the scalp was taken while the leaves were on the trees, it was danced over until they fell, and then buried, and when taken in winter it was buried when the leaves came in the spring, but I never was quite sure about this. I wanted one very much once, and a party of us went in the night just back of St. Peter, where we supposed they had been buried, and dug for them, and to our horror struck the toes of a dead Indian. That cured my desire in this direction.



BRED IN THE BONE.

In the early days of what is now Minnesota there were two families of missionaries living among the Sioux of the Mississippi, who, like many of their profession, devoted their whole lives to spreading the gospel of Christ among the savages. They were those of Dr. Williamson and the Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, both of whom had lived with these Indians long before I came among them. When I first became connected with these Indians I found the missionaries comfortably installed at the Yellow Medicine agency, with quite a village around them. They had dwelling houses, and a commodious schoolhouse, where they took Indian children at a very early age, with a view of civilizing and Christianizing them. They had also a very pretty church, with a steeple on it, and a bell in the steeple, and all the other buildings necessary for the complete and efficient operation of their laudable undertaking. They were full of zeal and enthusiasm in the cause, and had progressed to a point where it looked to an outsider as if success was only a question of a short time, if it was not already an accomplished fact. The Bible had been translated into the Sioux language, and they had hymn books and catechisms in the same language. They had learned to speak Sioux thoroughly, and could preach and sing in that language. Many is the time I have attended church at the little meeting house, and heard the simple old Presbyterian hymns sung to the tunes that have resounded for generations through the meeting houses of New England. It was a most solemn and impressive spectacle, in the heart of the Indian country, to see a Christian church filled with devout worshippers all in the costume of savagery, and to listen to the oft-told story of the Saviour who died that man might live. Such a scene carries with it a much more convincing proof of the universality of the Christian religion than a church full of fashionably dressed people in a great city. It suggests its limitless application to all the human race, even if dwelling in the remotest part of the earth.

The experience of these good missionaries had taught them that civilization was the most potent auxiliary to religion, and, for the success of either, the other was a necessary aid and adjunct when dealing with these primitive people. So they set themselves to work to devise plans to instill into the Indians the elemental principles of government based on law. They organized a little state or community among them, through which they endeavored to prove to them the advantages of civilized rule through the agency of officers of their own choice and laws of their own making. They called their state "The Hazelwood Republic," which embraced all the missionary establishment, and all the Indians they could induce to unite in the enterprise. They drew a written constitution, the provisions of which were to govern and direct the conduct of the members and the workings of the community. Of course, the fundamental principles upon which the whole fabric rested were similar to those taught by the ten commandments. The Indians, with the advice of the missionaries, elected a president for the young republic, and the choice fell upon a wise and upright man, about fifty years of age, whose name was Ma-za-cu-ta-ma-mi, or "The man who shoots metal as he walks," and to give the matter a more pronounced ecclesiastical aspect, they added a scriptural name by way of a prefix to the names of all the officers. For instance, they called the president, Paul Ma-za-cu-ta-ma-mi, and one of the deacons, Simon Ana-wang-ma-ni, which means "The man who can keep up with any moving object;" or, as things turned out in the end, it could well have been translated into the "Fast Man."

The first act necessary for initiation as a citizen of the republic was cutting off the long hair universally worn by the Sioux, and if any act could be taken as indicative of sincerity, this one seemed to be conclusive. It is quite as much of a sacrifice for an Indian to cut off his hair as it would be for a young lady in society possessed of a splendid suit of hair to cut it off short and appear at a grand ball with her head thus denuded.

The next step was to wear a hat, and exchange the breech-clout for pantaloons, and the blanket for a shirt or coat. Notwithstanding this terrible ordeal of naturalization, the population of the republic increased, and the church was well attended. The praying and singing was participated in quite generally by the members, and the future republic looked promising. One of the most exemplary citizens and devout worshippers was deacon Simon Ana-wang-ma-ni. He led in prayer, and labored heart and soul for the good of the republic and the church. He was the last man that anyone would have expected to fall from grace, and no one ever thought of such a thing; but, strange as it may appear, he one day sought an interview with the missionaries, and announced the astounding fact that an Indian who had killed his cousin some eight years before had returned from the Missouri river country, and he thought it was his duty to kill him in retaliation. The astonishment of the missionaries may be well imagined. They cited to him the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," and dwelt upon the awful sinfulness of such an act, and he would say, "I know what the Bible says, and I believe in Sundays, but he killed my cousin." Then they would attack him on the laws of the republic of which he was a high official, and dwell upon the dreadful example such an act would set before the brethren of the church, and he would reply, "Oh, yes; I know all that; but he killed my cousin." Then, in despair, they would tell him that he was no longer an Indian; that he had become a white man, and the laws of the white man forbid such revenge. "I know all that," he would say, "but he killed my cousin." As a final resort, the faithful and believing missionaries concluded to call in the aid of heaven to assist them, and they prayed with Simon for hours, days and nights, in all of which he joined with fervor and unction; but he could not divest himself of the all-pervading idea that his cousin had been killed, and the sacred duty had devolved upon him to avenge his death. This belief had been born in him, and no religion of the white man could eradicate it. True to the creed of his ancestors, he got a double-barrelled shotgun and went out and killed his enemy.

Of course, this murder opened up a new feud, arraying relative against relative, and destroyed Simon's influence as a deacon in the church and an officer of the republic to such a degree as almost to destroy all the good that both had accomplished. I mention this incident to show what uncertain ground the missionaries find to sow the seeds of Christianity in when working among savages.

Notwithstanding such discouragements as the above, I believe much good was done through the efforts of the missionaries. In times of great trouble and excitement I always found the best friends of the whites among the Indians who had felt the enlightening influences of the missionaries, not excepting Simon, who with Paul, John Otherday, and many others, performed heroic services for the whites when friends were most needed; but I have never been able to settle the question in my mind as to whether any of them ever grasped the principles of the Christian religion.

In 1862 the Sioux openly rebelled against the whites, and it was solely through the good offices of Otherday and Paul that these missionaries escaped massacre. All their buildings and their labor of long years were destroyed, and they were driven out of the country. Most people would have thought that they would have had enough of such a life. I know I thought so, but not so with these devoted people. Shortly after the suppression of the outbreak I met Dr. Williamson, and asked him what were his future intentions. Without the least hesitation he answered that he would look up the remnant of his tribe, and continue his work.

All the heroes are not found in the ranks of the fighters.

* * * * *

NOTE.—The reader of both the history and the frontier stories will notice that many of the facts stated in the history are repeated in the stories. I decided to insert both because the different way in which they are related led me to believe that the elimination of either would detract from the interest of the work.

THE AUTHOR.



AN ACCOMPLISHED RASCAL.

In the late fifties a young man of very attractive manners and extraordinary accomplishments appeared in St. Peter. His name was La Croix, or at least he said it was, and no questions were asked. We had not at that time acquired the habit of asking newcomers what names they went by in the States, as was the usual practice in the early settlement of Texas and California. We were an unsuspicious people, and accepted those who settled among us for what they said they were and appeared to be.

It was soon discovered that La Croix spoke French fluently; nearly all our first settlers were French. He said he learned it while living in New Orleans. He soon developed a large acquaintance with military matters, and we made him captain of our militia company (now the national guard), and he drilled us up to a high state of discipline and skill in company tactics and movements. I had the honor of being second lieutenant of the company. This art, he said, he acquired as sergeant of a company in the crack New York Seventh.

He was a graceful and adroit fencer, and could explain the difference between the French system and the American plan as taught at West Point. I learned both from him. His conversational powers and the extent of his general knowledge surpassed anything that ever graced the border. In a word, he possessed all the qualities, including personal beauty, that were necessary to make him a general favorite with both men and women. He did not fail to improve all his advantages.

He soon became the trusted bookkeeper for one of our business concerns, courted and married a lovely young girl from a neighboring town, and settled down to a life of domestic felicity, esteemed by all, questioned by none.

Shortly after his marriage the Civil War began, and in due course of time a baby was born to his house. Shortly after the latter event he announced that news had arrived that certain stock of the Chemical Bank, in New York, which he had inherited from his father, who had died in New Orleans, was in danger of confiscation by the federal government as rebel property, and he was obliged to go East and take care of it. He made the most elaborate preparations for the comfort of his wife and child during his absence, and departed. We gave him a splendid send-off, and several of us, I among the rest, entrusted him with commissions to perform for us in New York, and for a long time that was the last we heard of La Croix.

Of course, there were many who said, "I told you so," but they had not done anything of the kind; we were all taken in without exception. His wife was the last to lose confidence in his return. I followed up every clue she could give me, but without results. He had disappeared as completely as if the ground had opened and swallowed him up, and we forgot him.

The war was fought out, and peace returned. A Connecticut regiment, commanded by Colonel Brevet Brigadier General Thompson (I will call him that for certain reasons) was mustered out in one of the chief cities of that state, and nothing was too good for its gallant commander. He was sought after socially, and by the business community, and soon became as popular as La Croix had been in St. Peter. He married one of the most beautiful and aristocratic young ladies of the state, and was appointed to the position of general inspector of agencies of one of the great insurance companies of Connecticut, and he decided to improve the opportunity of his first tour as a pleasant way of passing his honeymoon. So he started west with his confiding wife.

I forgot to mention that, when La Croix reached St. Paul, after leaving St. Peter, he drew and cashed a small draft of a few hundred dollars on his employer, and appropriated the proceeds.

Thompson's luck seemed to have deserted him on his wedding trip, as, on arriving at Cleveland, Ohio, a citizen of St. Peter met and recognized him as his old friend La Croix, and not knowing he was a brigadier general slapped him familiarly on the shoulder and said: "Hello, La Croix; I am glad to see you." The general was immensely indignant, and spurned his new found friend, which angered the latter exceedingly, and he at once telegraphed to St. Peter, and received a reply to have the party arrested and held, which he did. The general wired to his principals, setting forth his difficulty, saying it was all a case of mistaken identity. They instructed their agent in Cleveland to go General Thompson's bail for any amount required, which was done, and he at once started for home to procure evidence, leaving his wife to await his return, and that was the last seen of General Thompson for many years. I believe, however, he was once recognized in Vienna.

Time passed; the West grew and expanded; many new states were added to the Union; many immigrants were attracted to its fertile fields and booming cities, very few of their number hailing from either Minnesota or Connecticut. Among them, however, was a gentleman of most attractive mien. He went into the real estate business, and greatly prospered. His varied accomplishments soon made him the most popular man in his state. He united with the political party which held the power. He married an attractive young woman, and settled down to a quiet and respectable domesticity. In the course of events a United States senator was to be elected, and what was more natural than that this intelligent, respectable and popular citizen should be considered a worthy candidate. The legislature convened, his prospects of election were more than promising, and he would undoubtedly have been chosen had not some meddlesome fellow recognized him as the long lost La Croix. Of course, he disappeared, and this time, permanently.

The moral of this story is, that it is better, as a general thing, to find out what name people went by in the States before you either marry them or elect them to the United States senate.



AN ADVOCATE'S OPINION OF HIS OWN ELOQUENCE IS NOT ALWAYS RELIABLE.

In the early days of the territory a large part of the legal business arose out of misunderstandings about claim lines and the attempts of settlers to jump the claims of other people. These suits usually took the shape of trespass and forcible entry and detainer. In some instances they ripened into assaults and batteries, and were generally tried before justices of the peace. Nearly all the people were French, and that language was quite as usually spoken as English. The town of Mendota was almost exclusively French and half-breed Sioux, the latter speaking French if they deviated from their native tongue. One of our earliest lawyers was Jacob J. Noah, from New York. He was the son of a very celebrated journalist of that city, and was a very cultured and accomplished gentleman. He spoke French like a native, which, no doubt, had a good deal to do with his living at Mendota. That town boasted of a justice of the peace, who occupied an exalted position in the estimation of the French inhabitants, on account of his learning and established character for justice and fair dealing. He was a handsome old gentleman, with white hair and beard and impressive judicial manner. About the year 1855, among the new arrivals in the legal fraternity, was Mr. John B. Brisbin, also from New York. He was a graduate of Yale, and acquainted with some of the leading lawyers in St. Paul, so his advent was announced with a good many flourishes, and he soon took a leading stand in the profession. Mr. Brisbin was a cultured and eloquent lawyer, and no one knew it better than himself. He settled in St. Paul. Soon after his arrival a controversy arose between a couple of settlers in Dakota county about their claim boundaries, and a suit was brought before the French justice at Mendota. Major Noah represented the plaintiff and the defendant employed Mr. Brisbin. It being Brisbin's first appearance in court, he made extraordinary preparations, intending to create a favorable impression. He discovered some fault in the law of the plaintiff's case, and when the parties met in court, he demurred to the plaintiff's complaint, and made an exhaustive argument in support of his position. He was fortified with numerous citations from English and New York cases, all of which he read to the court. When he would become particularly impressive, the court would evince signs of deep interest, which convinced the speaker that he was carrying everything before him. When he finished his argument, he looked at his adversary with a confident and somewhat exultant expression, as if to say, "Answer that if you can."

The major opened his case to the court in French, and had hardly begun before Mr. Brisbin interposed an objection, that he did not understand French, and that legal proceedings in this country had to be conducted in English. The major answered by saying: "I am only interpreting to the court what you have been saying." Mr. Brisbin indignantly replied: "I don't want any interpretation of my argument; I made myself perfectly clear in what I said." "Oh, yes," said the major, "you made a very clear and strong argument; but his honor, the judge, does not understand a single word of English," which was literally true. Tradition adds that when the court adjourned, the judge was heard to ask the major: "Est ce qu'il y a une femme dans cette cause la?" Whether the court decided the case on the theory of there being a woman in it or not, history has failed to record.



A MOMENTOUS MEETING.

The people of St. Paul have often been proud of a remark which was made by Hon. Wm. H. Seward, in a speech delivered by him in 1860, at the old capitol on Wabasha street, where he said he believed that the center of power on the North American continent would be very near the spot where he stood. Everybody, while they liked the prediction, looked upon it as a pleasant way the speaker had of giving his hosts and St. Paul a little "taffy," and nothing more. Such, however, was not the case, and Mr. Seward, when he uttered the prophecy, was thoroughly impressed with the truth of what he said, as I will prove further on.

This speech was delivered on the 18th of September, 1860. If I remember correctly, Mr. Seward was on an electioneering tour in support of Lincoln's candidacy for the presidency, and that Hon. James W. Ney of New York, afterwards governor of Nevada, was of the party; but I am not very sure of these facts, and they are not at all material to the point I am about to make. Mr. Seward stayed at the Merchant's Hotel, at the foot of Jackson street, kept by our well known host, Colonel Allen, while he remained in St. Paul.

Many of the older settlers will remember James W. Taylor of St. Paul, who, for many years, represented the United States as consul at Winnipeg. Mr. Taylor was the most popular man in that city. He was not only esteemed for his superior ability as an official, but was beloved by all classes of the people for his gentle and genial manners. He was a great friend of Bishop Anderson of Rupert's Land, who, for twenty years, had performed the duties of missionary bishop of that far away country. He had travelled the McKenzie river to its mouth in the Arctic ocean. He had been all over Alaska, up and down the Yukon, and, in fact, knew more about the vast country that lies north and northwest of the United States than any living man at the date we are speaking of. It so happened that the bishop and Consul Taylor were on a visit to St. Paul at the time of the arrival of Mr. Seward, and were also guests at the Merchant's Hotel. They, of course, called on the distinguished American, Mr. Seward, who became deeply interested in the conversation of the bishop about his travels through this vast upper region, and was so impressed with the immensity and future possibilities of the country that he forgot all about his appointment to speak at the capitol, and kept his audience waiting for nearly an hour before he could tear himself away from the fascination of the bishop's conversation.

The topic Mr. Seward had selected for his speech was one in which he was profoundly interested. It was, "The Duty, Responsibility, and Future Power of the Northwest," which was a magnificent subject for discussion by such a thoughtful statesman. Before meeting Bishop Anderson, Mr. Seward had conceived certain theories on the question, as the quotation which I shall make from his speech clearly establishes, and that these preconceived ideas had been, by his intercourse with the bishop, radically changed, if not thoroughly overthrown, seems equally clear. It must be remembered that, in 1860, very little was known about Alaska and the British possessions in the far northern regions, and it is quite possible that even a man of Mr. Seward's learning may not have included them in his calculations for the future. Of course, what he said about his preconceived conclusions, and the subsequent changes made in them, involved the fact of the absorption into the United States of the whole continent, which in all probability will happen at some future time.

When Mr. Seward arrived at the capitol, he was introduced by John W. North, and, among other things, said:

"In other days, studying what might perhaps have seemed to others a visionary subject, I have cast about for the future—the ultimate central power of the North American people. I have looked at Quebec and New Orleans, at Washington and at San Francisco, at Cincinnati and St. Louis, and it has been the result of my last conjecture that the seat of power of North America would yet be found in the Valley of Mexico,—that the glories of the Aztec capital would be renewed, and that city would become ultimately the capital of the United States of America. But I have corrected that view, and I now believe that the last seat of power on this great continent will be found somewhere within a radius of not very far from the very spot where I now stand, at the head of navigation on the Mississippi river and on the great Mediterranean lakes."

When and where had this correction been made? Doubtless an hour before, at the Merchant's Hotel, through the influence of the interview with Bishop Anderson. While at the capitol they visited the rooms of the Historical Society, where the bishop made a short address to Mr. Seward, to which Mr. Seward responded. Now, all this might have happened, and been of no particular interest to the world, except as a pleasant episode between two distinguished men. But in this instance it turned out to be of vital importance to three of the greatest nations of the world. Mr. Seward was so deeply impressed with the St. Paul incident that, immediately after his return to Washington, he opened negotiations with the Russian government for the purchase of Alaska, and persistently carried them on, until he succeeded in acquiring that vast empire for a mere bagatelle of seven or eight millions of dollars. This remarkable prevision of Mr. Seward has stamped its effect on our present and future destiny and relations with England, Canada, Russia and perhaps all the nations of the Orient. Had not Mr. Seward visited St. Paul on that exact day, would this great change have been made in the map of North America? It certainly would not after the discovery of gold in Alaska. So I claim that Minnesota played an all-important role in the purchase of Alaska.

Having spoken of my dear old friend, James W. Taylor, I cannot omit to mention a most touching tribute paid to his memory by the people of Winnipeg. The municipality has placed upon the walls of its city hall a fine portrait of the faithful consul, under which hangs a basket for the reception of flowers. Every spring each farmer entering the city plucks a wild flower, and puts it in the basket. The great love of a people could not be expressed in a more beautiful and pathetic manner, and no man was more worthy of it than Consul Taylor.



A PRIMITIVE JUSTICE.

The lands west of the Mississippi river, in Minnesota, were the property of the Sioux Indians until treaties were made with them in 1851, by which they ceded them to the United States, but these treaties were not fully ratified until 1853, on account of amendments which deferred final action. But immigration was pouring into the territory, and it naturally found a lodgment on the west side of the river, from the Iowa line up to Fort Snelling, and gradually extended up the Minnesota river to Mankato. Of course, all the settlers on the Indian lands were trespassers, and as the lands were unsurveyed, no claim rights could be acquired, but the settlers did the best they could to mark their claims, and gain what right they could by possession. The usual and best way of marking claim lines, was by running a plow furrow around the land. When the prairie was once broken, the line was indelible, because an entirely new growth would spring up in the furrow that never could be eradicated.

In 1854 a law of congress was passed, by which settlers in Minnesota were given rights in unsurveyed lands, their claims to be adjusted to the surveyed lines, when they were run, "as near as may be."

Of course, this condition of things gave rise to many disputes about claim lines and rights, and as there were no legal tribunals to appeal to, we organized claim associations to protect our rights. In my part of the territory we had an association that covered what is now Blue Earth, Nicollet and Le Sueur counties, and most of the actual settlers were members, and all were pledged to support each other against any one attempting to jump the claim of any member. Protection, of course, meant driving out the intruder and restoring the rightful owner to his possession. The means of reaching the object were not defined, but were understood to be adequate to the necessities of the occasion.

I had made a claim on the second plateau, back of what afterwards became the town site of St. Peter, and Gibson Patch, the sheriff of Nicollet county, had settled on the adjoining quarter section. These claims covered the ground where the Scandinavian college now stands, called, I think, "Gustavus Adolphus."

I was the president of the Nicollet county branch of the claim association.

About 1855 the government survey lines were extended over our lands, and we had to adjust our lines to those of the official surveys as best we could. It so happened that the established lines left the shanty of my neighbor, the sheriff, outside of the quarter section he had always claimed, and before he discovered this fact, a man designing to take advantage of the sheriff's peculiar situation, and intending to jump his claim, erected a shanty on his land and moved his family into it. It was soon discovered, and Patch notified the claim association, which immediately assembled and decided that the jumper must be ejected and banished from the county. It was winter time. A committee of one hundred and fifty was delegated to perform the work at a certain day and hour. The jumper heard of it, and in the morning of the day fixed, he prudently fled down the river. Being president of the association, it devolved upon me to lead the party. We arrived at the house, and finding no opposition, we politely informed the family of our mission, and offered them comfortable transportation to any point they would name for themselves and their portable belongings, which they accepted. We then burned the house, and appointed two committees of ten each to chase the jumper down each side of the river, with full discretion to punish him as they saw fit. They pursued him for about forty miles, and it was fortunate for the fugitive that they did not overtake him, because had they caught him after two p. m., I think they would have been in a condition of mind that would have resulted in his summary execution.

Of course, we thought no more about it, as matters of that kind were of frequent occurrence; but that was not the last of it. It turned out that the jumper was a Mason of high degree, and when he got to St. Paul he made a most pitiable complaint, charging me with destroying his home, and with attempting to murder him. I was a small Mason, and was cited before the lodge to defend myself. I simply denied the jurisdiction, and did not appear. I was tried, and triumphantly acquitted.

On another occasion a claim was jumped in Le Sueur, just between upper and lower town, and the jumper had a great many friends who rallied to his defense. The associations of all three counties were called out, and when we appeared at Le Sueur, we found about seventy-five Irishmen, all well armed, camped on the contested claim ready to defend it to the death. We camped at a short distance, and negotiations were opened between the hostile armies, which finally resulted in some sort of a compromise, satisfactory to the contesting parties, one of whom (the original claimant) was K. K. Peck, who was left in possession of the disputed territory. Mr. Peck laid his claim out into lots, and gave each one of the members of the association that had come to his rescue a deed for a lot, which we called a "land warrant," on account of services in the Peck war; but before we could realize on our warrants, the government surveys located a school section on the battle-field, and destroyed all our hopes.

THE END