PURSUANT to request arrangements were made for the Sabbath. A sermon was preached on Saturday evening by Rev. J. M. Steele, missionary to the Choctaws; a prayer meeting was held at sunrise on Sabbath morning; the first sermon was preached by Rev. Mr. Buttrick, a venerable Presbyterian missionary among the Cherokees; the second morning discourse by myself; afternoon sermon by Rev. Mr. Jones, Baptist missionary to the Cherokees; evening, by Rev. L. B. Stateler, our missionary to the Shawnees.

      The day was spent with solemnity and apparent interest, and, I trust, not without profit. The sermons were publicly translated only into Cherokee, the large majority in attendance being of that Nation. We had, however, quite a number of apparently devout worshipers; the services were enlivened by the singing of hymns in the Cherokee and Delaware languages, and an occasional Indian prayer. The whole scene was imposing, and evidently God was there.

      This was my first attempt at preaching through an interpreter. I had fears that I should not be able successfully to conform to the slow process; and the more so from the inexperience of my pro tem. interpreter. Rarely have I made more careful preparation. Taking my interpreter aside, I carefully inquired of him as to his ability to express certain thoughts embraced in my intended sermon, which, though plain and simple, I feared he might not communicate correctly. By these precautions I was enabled to speak without embarrassment.

      Much depends upon an interpreter; his capacity and fidel-

ity. He may either make or mar a discourse. This was particularly apparent in the sermon of the afternoon. Rev. Mr. Jones, the speaker, was a good preacher ; but it was quite manifest that he relied greatly upon his interpreter, Chief Justice Bushy-Head, himself a capable preacher and entirely conversant with the structure and capabilities of the language. The speaker was at perfect ease in this respect, and enabled to speak with fewer pauses and less interruption than through a less competent medium.

      In after years, habit rendered me familiar with the process; insomuch that it became not only an easy, but an agreeable manner of addressing a congregation; the pauses affording time for reflection and choice of thoughts and words. Never have I preached to more attentive and willing hearers than among the indians; never have I felt more in the spirit of my work; and to no people would I more cheerfully proclaim the glad tidings of salvation than to them.

      I have said that the sermons were publicly translated only into Cherokee. I must not omit an interesting incident that attracted my notice. During one of the sermons I observed in the congregation the Pottawatamie interpreter seated upon his bench with his venerable old Chief Wau-bon-sa, noticed in a former chapter, and several others of his tribe seated near; while he, in an undertone, was, with much apparent earnestness, interpreting the sermon to them. I subsequently learned that, though his earthly pilgrimage had reached nearly ninety years, he had never before heard a Gospel sermon. He listened with seeming solemnity, and occasionally gave a nod of approval. We afterward had some conversation with him. The aged Chief expressed his conviction of the truth of what had been said. To our inquiries as to his willingness to receive schools and missions among his people, he replied that they "wanted schools, but wished to have them established and supported from the educational fund secured to them by treaty with the Government;" thus declining any gratuitous service by

the whites. In reference to missionary effort he manifested an equal spirit of independence; saying, that he "would not ask them to come," but if any chose to come voluntarily and labor in his tribe he and his people would receive them kindly.

      This band of Pottawatamies then resided upon Missouri River, in the neighborhood of Council Bluffs. Near to that spot, after the lapse of almost a score of years, I am now penning these reminiscences. The "trail" of the red man is still seen over these majestic bluffs, but his voice is no more heard; he has passed away. Old Wau-bon-sa is "gathered to his fathers." The name of a stream, not remote from my dwelling, perpetuates his memory. The top of a tree on its bank is said to have been the sepulchral place of the aged Chief.

      This band has been removed further west and incorporated with another remnant of the same tribe, in a reserve upon Kansas River. The Roman Catholics have an institution among them, and whatever errors and false reliances they may teach them--doubtless many--candor compels the statement that their influence over the tribe and labors among them have done much toward the improvement of their temporal condition. Would that we Protestants could always emulate their zeal and perseverance, while we avoid their ruinous errors.

      The day thus passed with general good order and apparent respect for the Sabbath. 'There were some restless spirits, however, that could not brook the restraint, longing for their much-loved sports. In the afternoon a party went off to the prairie for a ball-play, a most exciting athletic game practiced among Indians, which I may hereafter describe. Just before dark the delegation of the Iowa tribe undertook to "show off" the Indian in their own peculiar style. A march was commenced by them around the encampment, which soon grew into a large procession by the falling in of others from curiosity. Starting from their own lodge, they passed in succession to each cabin upon the

square, stopped before the door, sang, danced, blew "horrible discord" upon their cane flutes, and finally wound up with a loud yell by way of salute to the inmates, and then moved on; so passing quite around the ground. They got through in time for evening service, which was allowed to proceed without molestation. At the close, however, we found an opposing attraction on hand, without the line of encampment, in the shape of a dance among some wild Cherokees. I will not attempt a description of these Indian dances, as practiced in their own country, especially when under the influence of liquor. I have witnessed then in several tribes. Nothing that I have ever seen gives so terrific an idea of savage life. The songs, yells, and shrieks are furious and startling; and the whole scene is savage, wild, and rude beyond all previous conception. I shall never forget the first night I ever passed under hearing of such a scene. In my bed the piercing intonations produced a shivering sense of horror which drove sleep away, though without any apprehension of personal danger. Large dances had been held for several evenings preceding. This, I learn, is not usual at their National Councils, which are conducted with greater decorum but this extraordinary occasion had brought together an assemblage of spectators too large and too rude to submit to control.

      The only two tribes present that seemed to reject all affectation of resemblance to the whites, and fully to retain their primitive customs in dress and manners, were the lowas and Osages; both indigenous tribes, and bearing a strong resemblance to each other; their dress consisted of the flap and blanket; the latter, in warm weather, thrown loosely down below the shoulders and arms, and at times laid aside entirely, leaving no covering to the person except the flap; heads and feet bare. Their heads are shaved to the crown; two small ridges of hair, erect and about an inch or less in hight (sic), proceed angularly back from the crown, with a lock of long hair in the center. Both tribes paint profusely, especially the lowas. They are more filthy than

the Osages. The home of the lowas was upon the west side of Missouri River, below the Great Nemaha, in the north part of what is now Kansas Territory. They were the most perfect specimens of savage life upon the ground, having no interpreter, and consequently but little intercourse with the other tribes; eating, drinking, sleeping, marching, dancing in their own way to the apparent astonishment of the other Indians themselves. One who has not seen an Indian in his forest home, in full paint and costume, would scarcely conceive the hideousness of the sight.

      The Osages deserve particular notice, not so much from their merits as their other peculiarities. Their present home is south of the head-waters of the Osage or Maries Des Cygnes River, in rear of the small tribes of removed Indians that are placed immediately west of the Missouri State line. They boast that all these lands are theirs by conquest; that they are not indebted to the United States Government for their homes; as one of their chiefs proudly said to me, they got them "by fighting." They are physically fine specimens of the human form, if those present were a sample; perfect Patagonians in stature; well-formed and portly in appearance; I should think the minimum six feet in hight (sic) and two hundred avoirdupois in weight. Each might seem to be, as, indeed, almost every one claimed to be, a chief. Their fine person, loosely covered with a large, rich, red blanket, without the slightest apparent design of intentional immodesty, presented to my eye an interesting contrast with the motley frippery of others, who were endeavoring to combine the civilized with the savage in their outward man.

      They are said to be incredible gormandizers; a few men will consume a large beef in a very short time; especially, as is not uncommon with Indians, if provided at others' expense. The late Major Armstrong related to me a characteristic incident. A deputation of their tribe, on some real or pretended business, paid him a visit as Superintend-

ent of Indian Affairs. They encamped near his agency, and, during their stay, according to custom, drew daily rations of beef at Government expense. The business over, they still lingered in camp, and were fed as before. At length, desirous, it would seem, of planning their future movements, they sent some of their delegation to the Major with the question, "How long will you feed us if we remain here?" This was a signal for their dismissal. "Not a day longer," was the reply; and they summarily decamped.

      Another fact, from the same authority, which contrasts strangely with their eating propensities, is that they are capable of enduring the greatest fatigue, and especially in traveling on foot. Their ordinary gait, when on an express, or other matter of haste, is a long trot, or lope, which, it is said, they can keep all day. An Osage on foot is employed as a messenger in preference to an other Indian with a pony. The reward of such a day's service is a red blanket. I should fear the imputation of credulity, at least, were I to give some well-attested statements of their pedestrian performances which I have heard. They are expert swimmers, withal; and will, it is said, place a passenger upon a raft, or float made of skins, swim by its side and ferry him safely over their swollen streams, steering the craft with their hands.

      The Osages can not, I think, be so bad a people as generally represented. I make no pretensions to judging of character from bumps on the cranium, but there are in their whole appearance too many marks of benevolence and good-humor to conceal a character essentially bad. True, they lie and steal to an extent that exceeds most other tribes ; but then they believe these to be virtues. Dexterity in theft, and its concealment, are among them the high road to promotion. But was not this true of the Spartans also? The man who steals most is made "Big Captain." They steal without regard to the value or utility of the article. One stole a jack-screw from the garrison at Fort Gibson. Having no knowledge of its use, he carried it to the woods,

and amused himself by turning the crank and projecting the bar; next he placed it under a log, and experimented upon its power by forcing it up; at length, anxious to understand its inward organization, he undertook with his tomahawk to drive off the bands and expose the mechanism; failing in this, he, in despair, shouldered the instrument and carried it back to the fort to inquire into its structure, and thus satisfy his curiosity.

      They are great boasters. A common Osage reckons that he has performed quite an exploit if he can make you believe that he is a chief. Shin-ga-was-sa, a Chief, entertained me some time, through his interpreter, with a detail of the affairs of his Nation ; especially his contest, as he stated, with the late Head-Chief, and triumph over him; much of which I afterward learned to be untrue. Withal, they are regarded as cowardly and treacherous in the extreme. Whatever apologies I may have made for their other vices, I have none for these.

      Still they have redeeming traits. There is a genial good-nature in their very appearance. They were among the first Indians to come out and meet me as I drove up to the Council-Ground, take me by the hand, and give me a cordial welcome. Nor are they destitute of native eloquence. One of their chiefs, aged and lame, made, a few days before, a most dignified and courteous reply to what he thought an ungenerous reflection upon his tribe. A traditional speech had been delivered by one selected for the purpose, embodying facts and incidents in connection with past Indian history, embracing all the tribes; and in that speech some statement had been made which, it was thought, reflected improperly upon the Osage Nation, and involved a violation of the friendly relations of the Council. On their assembling the following day, the old Chief limped out from his lodge and addressed them. After referring to the supposed insult, he added, "When I come out of my lodge I look upon that flag," referring to the banner that floated above the place of meeting; "that," said he, "wipes out all past

stains." It was the utterance of an untutored son of the forest, but it would not have disgraced the most accomplished statesman.

      The Seminole delegation represented a portion of that tribe lately removed West. This band seemed likely to prove inconvenient neighbors to their Indian brethren as they had been to the whites. They obstinately refused to go to the lands assigned theta, remaining as trespassers within the limits of the Cherokees. They are generally tall, straight, slender, dressed clean, with stately walk and haughty appearance. They mingled but little with the other tribes, keeping up a cold and clannish reserve.

      This extraordinary convocation presented the singular spectacle of an assemblage of nations spending some weeks together in grave consultation, with no definite object in view. No definite measure had been submitted, and it will be seen, from the speeches, that none such is referred to. Yet Mr. Ross says, "The business of the Council is before you." At the time of my leaving, it seemed probable that this vast body, after eating beef a week or two more at the expense of the Cherokees, would disperse without having done any thing; a result which I have since learned actually took place. Some of the tribes spent three months or more in going, staying, and returning. Some benefit, however, would doubtless accrue from the intercourse of the ruder tribes with the semi-civilized, and a mutual interchange of thought and feeling. Effort would be stimulated, and thus incidental, if not direct advantage would be reaped from the association.

      IN taking leave of the Council, a notice is due of my venerable host. REV. YOUNG WOLF was an aged Cherokee of, I should think, about half-blood, dignified in appearance, grave and courteous. Rarely have I met with so fine a sample of patriarchal simplicity. From his general intelligence and consistent piety, I should judge him to have been an able and effective Indian preacher. He was then in declining health, and in a short time "was gathered to his fathers." I enjoyed his society greatly, and at parting received his patriarchal blessing.

      Time, and urgent duties ahead, would not allow me to await the tardy and uncertain movements of our expected Indian company. Accordingly, taking leave of my friends at Tah-le-quah on the morning of Monday, June 20th, I set my face northward with a single traveling companion, Rev. L. B. Stateler, missionary to the Shawnees. Our next point of destination was the Manual-Labor School among the Shawnees, near the mouth of Kansas River, the point where the western line of the State of Missouri strikes Missouri River, supposed to be about three hundred miles. This distance we proposed to make before the ensuing Sabbath. Instead of inclining east, and taking the more frequented route through the borders of the neighboring States of Arkansas and Missouri, we determined to steer directly north, keeping entirely within Indian territory. With this intent, we furnished ourselves with a supply of provisions and camp utensils adapted to the journey.

      Traveling north about fifteen miles, we struck the mili-

tary road leading from Fort Gibson to the old evacuated post of Fort Wayne, near the northwestern corner of Arkansas. These military roads are laid out by the Government from post to post. The course through the prairies was marked out, on our left, by a single furrow of a great plow, and the only improvement consisted of throwing stones into the bottoms of the streams so as to render the fords passable.

      Midday a little past, we reached the Moravian mission and school, known as Spring Place. What indefatigable zeal and perseverance do this people manifest in the cause of missions! Where is the place that they are not found? Though a small band with feeble means, they set an example to all Christendom. This mission was under the charge of Rev. Messrs. Reeder and Bishop, both unmarried men. They lived there alone, performing their own domestic labors; all had the aspect of neatness and comfort. Here we grazed our horses, dined, and had a season of prayer with several missionary brethren; camped at night upon the bank of a small stream called Mosely's Creek, put our horses to grass, spread our buffalo-skin under the branches of a friendly oak, committed ourselves to God, and rested securely.

      27th. Off early. Left the military road near the State line, and took another loading directly to the Seneca Mills. Passed through a corner of Arkansas and Missouri at their western junction; the famous "36^o 30'' " of the Missouri Compromise; and thence back west of the lines again. Beautiful streams abound, running west into the Neosho or Grand River, with fine springs gushing from the projecting rocks. A return to limestone water proved very grateful. In the afternoon we entered the country of the Seneca Indians. A fine grist and saw mill has here been erected for them by the Government; but so idle and improvident were these poor creatures that their mills proved a curse rather than a blessing. Being contiguous to a fertile section of Missouri, large quantities of grain were brought to the

mills, the toll for grinding being distributed among the tribe. This led many to abandon their little farms, give up .their partially-formed habits of industry, and rely upon the pittance divided to them from the mill; half-starving themselves and families, and spending their time in idleness and dissipation.

      The Senecas have a fine country, but it bore the appearance of neglect and dilapidation. Fields were turned out, cabins vacated, and numbers said to be on the decrease. The work of destruction is forwarded by a large distillery just over the Missouri line, to which, it is said, they carry much of their toll grain and exchange it for whisky. Brother Adams, a Mohawk preacher, was appointed to labor among them. He was said to be a good man, and, I think, before the close of the year was called to his reward. Passing a few miles beyond the mills we encamped in a beautiful spot, and enjoyed a comfortable night's repose.

      28th. Traveled through a district of country owned by a small band of the Shawnees who have separated from the main body of the tribe. Thence we passed into the country of the Quaw-paws. This little tribe had for several years a missionary among them from Missouri Conference; but little, I think, was accomplished by the effort. Several of these fragments of tribes were united under the Neosho Agency, the site of which we passed in the morning. The lands continue generally good, the prairie being well interspersed with woodland. On passing the thirty-seventh parallel of latitude we entered time country since organized as Kansas Territory.

      In the early part of the day we had a heavy fall of rain; sought shelter in an Indian hovel, but finding this to be worse than out of doors, took the road again, and early in the afternoon arrived at the bank of Pomme De Terre on Spring River, where we were hospitably entertained by a mixed-blood Cherokee, named Joseph Rogers, a manly, intelligent Indian. He was living upon the "Neutral Lands," a tract of eight hundred thousand acres ceded by

the Government to the Cherokees under the treaty of 1835, the validity of which, as before seen, has never been acknowledged by the body of the Nation. There were but few inhabitants upon these lands; no jurisdiction is extended over them, and consequently they live "without law." About twenty miles west of this lies the country of the Osages, and about fifty miles distant are their principal towns.

      A noon repast over with our Indian host, we addressed ourselves to crossing the stream. Spring River is a considerable stream, navigable for fiat-boats, running west into the Neosho, then swollen by the late rains. Rogers sent our horses to another crossing and undertook himself to transport my buggy and baggage by placing it astride a large canoe. He appeared sanguine of success; we had many misgivings, but it seemed the only alternative. It was determined, nem. con., that I should accompany the freight, and endeavor to steady it; and that my traveling companion, not being a swimmer, should, for greater safety, be taken over in a separate canoe by another man. All was adjusted according to the programme; the buggy carefully balanced astride the unsteady craft; I, with outer clothing doffed, took my position, and we shoved off. But scarcely had we struck the rapid current when, by a sudden rock of our craft, buggy, baggage, and all were precipitated into the stream. Whether voluntarily or involuntarily I know not, but so it was, I went overboard with them, and left our Cherokee in full and quiet possession. The instinct of self-preservation led me at first to make for the shore, but after swimming a little way, finding myself able to master the current, I wheeled around and set about rescuing the floating baggage, and in a little time, with the help of others, all that appeared upon the surface was safe on land. But part of our property was not gifted with the capacity of floating; and the next process was wading, swimming, and diving for the lost articles. I succeeded in bringing up the harness, another rescued other articles, and soon all that

was valuable was saved. The first ducking in a stream, alike the first gun in a battle, makes a man courageous; so, being fairly "in for it," we swam our buggy, the cause of the disaster, over, and deposited it upon the opposite shore to await us. This done, we returned with our kind friend to spend the night in drying our goods, thankful to a kind Providence for our escape. In early life I was fond of swimming. This was the first time that it was called into requisition to save my own life. Repeated instances of its utility have occurred since.

      29th. By sunrise we found ourselves on the opposite shore, harnessed and rigged, and launched out into a boundless prospect of prairie, being a branch of the great western openings, since so familiar to me, reaching with little intermission to the Rocky Mountains. We had, as we judged, lost by our disaster one full day's travel, or rather night's travel ; as we anticipated that much of our remaining journey must, to avoid the flies, be performed in the night; there being no relief from them in the day, except by sheltering in a grove and kindling a fire or "smudge," the smoke of which drove them away. From this point to the Missouri River we were mostly in open prairie, there being only small strips of timber upon the margins of the streams.

      We soon reached the military road leading from Fort Gibson to Fort Leavenworth, which passes within a few miles of our destination. The first reach was made without much difficulty. Arrived at a grove we deemed it prudent to take shelter. Our first effort was to kindle a fire, but the water had rendered our matches useless. The next resort was to flint and powder, but the high wind interfered with this. Meanwhile our horses became furious from the attack of swarms of flies, broke from us, and started upon a fill lope over the boundless prairie, they knew or cared not whither. The scorching rays of the sun were pouring most intensely upon us, and in the tall grass we followed on foot with great difficulty. But what were we to do? To lose
     8

our horses at this distance from human aid were bad indeed. So off we bolted at the top of our pedestrian speed. But the distance between us increased, and our pursuit would have been unavailing but for their turning their course and taking refuge in the timber upon the stream. My companion outwinded me upon a long race, and guided by the bell, came up to them upon the bank of the stream which had providentially checked them. He raised the whoop, I responded, and soon coming up found him, to my great joy, in possession of the captives, both of us much exhausted by the race. Mounting our steeds barebacked, and guiding them, he by a halter and I by the bell-collar, we marched them in triumph back to the camp. I was forced to admit my comrade's superiority on land, though I had outdone him in the water.

      By the aid of the rifle fire was at length raised, the horses were brought up to it, the smoke soon dispersed the flies, and the poor creatures stood hovering over the fire the remainder of the day, even to the singeing of their eyelids and noses. Those who have never traveled in our large western, and especially south-western prairies, in fly-time, would form little conception of the severity of these bloodsuckers. They rise from the grass as the animal passes, fasten themselves upon him in immense numbers, and draw blood from every pore. It is said, and I doubt not its truth, that they will kill a horse if not relieved. As might be expected a horse becomes furious and ungovernable; it is extremely difficult even to extricate him from the harness.

      All this over, we took our breakfast about twelve o'clock, and spent the day in keeping up smoke and fighting flies. In this grove I was shown a specimen of Indian hieroglyphics, left by the old Delaware Captain, Ketcham, and his party, on their way to the Council. The bark had been removed from a tree standing by the roadside, and signs, drawn with a charcoal, left, indicating their tribe, the number of days they had been out, and the loss of one of Ketch-

am's horses, with perhaps other particulars. The death of the animal was signified by the representation of a horse lying upon his back with his feet up.

      About six in the afternoon we harnessed up and ventured out again into the open prairie. It was over twenty miles to the next timber. We had not proceeded far till we found that we had hazarded too much. The flies attacked our animals. We could only control them by keeping them at rapid speed. So we drove at a fast rate till dark, then slackened speed and pursued our way in peace.

      Night traveling upon the prairies, in fine weather, is quite pleasant, affording magnificent prospects and delightful opportunities for contemplation. After traveling all the night we stopped, about daylight, at an Indian camping-ground upon a small stream called Drywood, grazed our animals and took our breakfast. Our provisions had shared in the damage accruing from our water adventure and become unfit for use. No others were to be had, and for the remainder of the way we were upon short allowance. Here we found a bed of stone-coal, lying out upon the surface, and apparently rich. I collected and burned some of it, and found it seeming of good quality.

      30th. Weary and worn, we determined to go by the way of Fort Scott, though a few miles out of our direct course, with the hope that we might obtain some refreshment and much needed repose. A drive of ten miles brought us to the place.

     FORT SCOTT has of late become a point of some notoriety, from its connection with the Kansas struggle. At the time of this visit it was occupied by a garrison. Large Government expenditures were subsequently made, good buildings were erected, and the site well improved. After an occupancy of some years it was evacuated, and the site and improvements sold for a trifling consideration, and converted to private purposes.

      The situation is upon the Marmaton River, a few miles west of the Missouri line. It is a beautiful and commanding position, in the midst of a fine section of country, and contiguous to considerable bodies of timber. The neighboring scenery is magnificent.

      Repose, however, was not to be found here. The only accommodation for travelers was at a cabin hotel, some hundreds of yards from the fort, but very difficult of access. This was crowded to overflowing with a class of men who cared little for the comfort of a weary stranger; so that this part of our design was frustrated.

      We had well-nigh failed of success in another department. An application was rendered necessary to the military gentlemen at the fort for permission to have some slight but indispensable repairs upon my carriage by the mechanics in their employ, for which I was willing to pay. Such aid is ordinarily afforded at our military posts to travelers, in case of disaster. Among no class of men have I met with more uniform courtesy and urbanity than the officers at our military stations. Many of them are gentlemen

in the true sense of the word; men whose hearts are warmed with the "milk of human kindness." Personal favors received at their hands are not forgotten. But there are others of small caliber, who seem to suppose that their own official dignity is to be supported by a supercilious churlishness, and a display of authority toward any whom misfortune or necessity may have placed in their power. Into the hands of such a one I was thrown, in the person of a little acting Quarter-Master, who controlled the workshops. Situated as I was, I "made a virtue of necessity," submitted to his impertinence, obtained what I could, with any treatment, and at any price, and left, with an ardent hope that I may not again be thrown upon the "cruelty" of their "tender mercies." Years after the evacuation, I had something to do with Fort Scott, in a different relation, with not much more satisfactory results; but of that hereafter.

      After passing the "Neutral Lands," our way had lain over a large body of Government land not appropriated to any Indian tribes. Weary as we were, we set out again in the evening, traveled till about two hours after midnight, camped on the bank of a streamlet, turned our horses loose to graze, and slept about two hours.

      July 1st. Off at an early hour; passed through the Pottawatamie lands; with difficulty crossed the Little Osage, considerably swollen, and arrived at Jeru's Trading-House,  a post of the American Fur Company, upon the Great Osage, or Manes des Cygnes. This, if I mistake not, is the place where Rev. E. R. A., in company with Bishop Roberts, played so successfully upon Catholic ears with the episcopal title, as detailed in Doctor Elliott's Life of Roberts.

      Crossing the river,--we entered the lands ceded to the Miami Indians, then about being removed from their former home in Indiana. Subsequently we passed the lands belonging to the Weas, Peorias, Pyankeshaws, and perhaps other fragmentary tribes that have been placed by the Gov-

ernment upon the Western border. Stopped to breakfast upon the bank of a small stream of bad water, which, with our damaged provisions, constituted rather an unenviable repast. As we progressed northward the flies became less troublesome, and this, together with the shortness of our available stores, determined us to hazard day traveling, although our already jaded animals could ill bear it.

      Early in the afternoon we reached Cold Water Grove. Here is truly a place of refreshing to the way-worn visitant. Off at the distance of a few hundred yards from the main road is a grove, in the center of which is a deep ravine, and near the bottom gushes out a stream of the coldest, purest limestone water. The place to me was one of solemn interest from the associations of thought which it called up. Here, about a year previous, the venerable Bishop Roberts, on his last frontier tour, with Rev. E. R. Ames as his traveling companion, then in the prime of his manhood, stopped and sought rest. And here, if rumor be not at fault, through an inadvertence, certainly not characteristic of either of these sharp-sighted frontier's-men, their team was permitted to run away with the carriage, and some time was spent in repairs. I find in my memoranda of that date thoughts like the following: "In this grove the aged servant of God sought a few hours' repose; now he rests in the groves of paradise. From this gushing stream he drank; now he slakes his thirst from the waters of life eternal, flowing fresh from the throne of God."

      Evidences were found, all along the frontier, of the deep impression made by this visit of the venerable man of God. The Indians are peculiarly impressed by a commanding form and personal appearance. Few men have been more highly gifted in this than the departed Bishop. This struck them with awe and respect, while his fine, genial spirit and patriarchal kindness won their affections. Many inquiries were made respecting him. Some had not heard of his decease; and many whites as well as Indians thought themselves honored to say, "He spent some days at my house,"

or, "He staid all night with me," seeming to feel that they had "entertained an angel unawares."

      Here we had indications of a storm. We accordingly hoppled our horses, turned them loose, and set about depositing our baggage under the shelving rocks, and making the best arrangements in our power for spending the night; but suddenly the clouds passed away, the air became cool--we took up our horses, reloaded, and about sunset emerged from our grotto into the open plain once more resuming our journey. The near approach of the Sabbath urged us on; and this motive was quickened by the demands of appetite, now becoming rather imperious. We traveled on till about midnight, hoping to find timber to shelter us, the night being cold. At length, despairing of success, ourselves and our animals exceedingly weary, we stopped in the open prairie. The wind blew fiercely, and we were much chilled. Kindling a little fire from some small wood which I had transported in my buggy, we turned our horses loose, spread our buffalo-skin under the carriage, placed our baggage, blankets, and umbrellas around it, committed ourselves to the care of Him who "giveth to his beloved sleep," crept under our shelter, and slept soundly till daylight. As light appeared we found ourselves within a short distance of a grove, which the darkness of the night had concealed from our view.

      2d. This was the holy Sabbath, a day, in all my frontier labors and travels, sacredly set apart for rest. But we were now within striking distance of our place of destination which, but for disaster, we should have reached ere this. Rest here was impossible. Hunger urged us on; and this, with our desire to enjoy an opportunity of public worship with our brethren, made out a case which we felt to warrant a brief "Sabbath day's journey." So having decided, we harnessed up, and a few hours' drive brought us into the fine, rich country of the Shawnees. My companion, the missionary, turned aside to spend the day among the people of his charge, while I drove on to the Manual Labor School,

introduced myself and met a hearty welcome. After partaking of needed refreshments, and a little repose, I joined in the labors and privileges of the day, preaching my first sermon in what is now Kansas Territory.

      The Shawnee Indians were placed by the Government in possession of a very valuable body of land, cornering upon Missouri River, below the mouth of Kaw, or Kansas River, extending south along the Missouri line some thirty miles, and reaching as far, or further west, into the interior; a large provision for a tribe numbering only about one thousand men, women, and children. These lands, lying in the vicinity of large streams, afforded considerable bodies of good timber, interspersed with fertile prairies. The cession of these lands to the Government, in 1853-4, with the individual rights to choice lands retained by them, have since made the Shawnee people rich.

      The value of these lands was enhanced by their contiguity to Independence, and other towns in Missouri which drive a large business in the commerce of the plains. Independence was, for many years, the great outfitting and starting-point for the plains. Even as early as the time of which I speak, the trade was becoming extensive and important. Since that it is vastly enlarged, and has mostly been transferred to other points. At the time of which I write, emigrants to Oregon and California, Santa Fé expeditions, Government exploring parties, army provision trains, etc., all set out from Independence, and passed through the Shawnee lands. A stirring scene, even then, was presented, contrasted with the country through which I had been traveling. All the bustle and excitement of the commerce of the plains appeared before us--scenes that in later years have become familiar.

      I have been somewhat minute in the details and incidents of this last trip, with the view of affording the reader some correct representation of frontier life and travel more so than I purpose to be in subsequent journeys, though affording equal or greater variety of incident. At that time the

scene was novel to myself, and each succeeding adventure made an impression. But as years of this kind of labor have rolled on, these scenes have become familiar. Exposures, risks, and hardships grow common, and adventures come so thick and fast that they degenerate into everyday occurrences, and almost cease to excite attention.

      Missionary life upon the frontier, as it is painted to the fancy at a distance, is clothed in romance; and a desire is awakened in imaginative minds to share in the scenes that they have heard so graphically described. But in a little season of actual experience the poetry wears off; the stern realities are encountered, and many faint by the way, or sigh for the scenes they have left.
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© 2003 for the NEGenWeb Project by Pam Rietsch, Ted & Carole Miller.