NONE but the laborer knows the sweetness of rest; and none who has not endured long absence from home, and family, and friends, can fully appreciate the luxury of a return to the society of loved ones. Never, from any other earthly source, have I realized the rich, full flow of delightful emotion that has been caused by the greetings that have met me at my threshold after long and painful separations. If ever the family altar witnessed true gratitude it has been amid the hymns and prayers of our first common devotions. But these ties are all to be severed, and broken fragments of disjointed households to be left, cherishing only the sadly. pleasing memories of the past, and looking forward to the eternal reunion of heaven; a heaven of society; a heaven of recognition.

      In these happy greetings my kind friends at Richmond participated, and with my family and them I enjoyed a brief season of respite from care and labor. This, however, was of short duration. A report of the past was to be made, and there was a future yet to be provided for.

      Though prevented by disease and debility, during my late trip, from traveling in the Territories as extensively as I had desired, still I had visited all the principal settlements, and, from personal observation and authentic sources of information, obtained all the data necessary to act upon in providing a supply for this new region. The number of actual residents in the Territories I found to be smaller than generally supposed. Great numbers of men, at the opening of the lands for settlement, or even before, had rushed in and taken claims; but in most instances they had only

erected a shanty, or, what was still more frequent, "laid a foundation," to secure the claim, and then returned to their homes in the States; some intending in good faith to return with their families, and become actual settlers; and others, a very large number, only designing to hold on to the claim for purposes of speculation, or to secure other privileges of nominal citizenship and control in Territorial affairs. A very large proportion of the best lands in both Territories, those immediately upon the river, had been seized by the citizens of the States immediately over the river, and were held by them, to the exclusion of bona fide settlers, till advantageously disposed of. My deliberate judgment was that there were not, at that time, five hundred white families settled in the entire Territories of Kansas and Nebraska; and so I reported.

     A large increase, however, was anticipated in the ensuing Fall, and for these provision was to be made. A full report of my explorations, and of the condition and wants of the country, was made out and laid before the Bishops, with a recommendation that, for the present, four mission circuits be formed--two in Kansas, and two in Nebraska--to each of which a preacher should be sent with a missionary appropriation sufficient to maintain him for one year; and that the two Territories be included in one district, with a presiding elder, or superintendent of missions, who should travel at large, make further explorations, and be clothed with discretionary power to organize new fields of labor, divide or change boundaries, employ preachers, assign them their work, and perform all other duties which emergencies might require in the interval of the Conference sessions. The suggestions met the approval of the appointing power, and were carried into effect at the ensuing session of the Conference. The Western Territories were, at that time, attached to the contiguous Conferences of Missouri and Iowa. Some vagueness being supposed to exist as to the dividing line, and it being thought desirable by the appointing power to place all under one superintendency, it was

determined, for the present, to supply all from Missouri Conference, in whose bounds the larger portion of the actual settlements was acknowledged to be found.

     The report and recommendations referred to were intended and understood by me to be a closing up of my connection with the Territorial work. The acceptance of an appointment to the exploring trip was expressly understood to place me under no obligation to a continuance in that field; and this mutual understanding was repeated on my return. Misgivings had been entertained in my mind from the first; ill health during my recent tour had ripened these into a settled conviction that I ought not to return; and I had come home with this determination. The session of my Annual Conference was approaching, and I was contemplating a little season of respite then, when I expected to fall into the ranks and take an appointment as usual.

     Opportunities, meanwhile, offered for occasional intercourse with one of the Bishops, at which the Territorial work and the manner of providing for it were, of course, themes of conversation. No claims were held upon me for the work, and no efforts were used to influence. Repeated conversations, however, developed the fact that, in the event of my declining, no appointment of the kind would, at that time, be made, there being at hand no substitute; and that, as a consequence, the organization of the Territorial work in the form contemplated would, for the present, be postponed, and, of course, the benefits of the labor already expended be mainly lost.

     This state of things brought me to a stand. My health had continued to improve, and, with returning health, a disposition began again to grow up to go to the frontier and enter the inviting field there opening up. It is said that men who have spent a few years upon the frontier are rarely, afterward, satisfied elsewhere. So it has proved with me. The subject was reflected upon, consulted over in the family circle, examined in all its bearings, and, I trust, sincerely prayed over. Doubts and hesitancy existed

in the family, but no will stood opposed. All was referred to my own personal convictions of duty and propriety. But this responsibility only rendered a decision more difficult, and the point still remained unsettled. One Sabbath, however, while in the labors of the pulpit, the decision, well-nigh formed before, was consummated and announced. I left the sacred desk committed to the frontier work. The acceptance was communicated, and I was immediately given to understand that I stood appointed to the superintendency of the new field.

     A decision had been postponed as long as practicable for the purpose of allowing a season of rest and social intercourse, well knowing that, once committed. to the work, rest would be at an end. So it was. The decision made and announced, and my field of future labor fixed, all energies were thenceforward bent to the accomplishment of the purpose. A long journey was to be provided for; preparations for a frontier residence to be made; private business matters to be put in a suitable train for leaving; besides many preliminary measures to be taken in reference to my approaching labors and duties. All interests, private, domestic, ministerial, demanded attention, and all were crowded into a small compass of time.

     Soon after I received a formal transfer to the Missouri Conference, with an appointment to the work, and at a subsequent time a letter of instructions, from which I give extracts:

"REV. WILLIAM H. GOODE:

     "DEAR BROTHER,--I have this day transferred you to the Missouri Annual Conference. You are hereby appointed Superintendent of the work in Kansas and Nebraska.

     "As settlements in the country embraced in your field of labor are constantly changing, you are hereby authorized to divide, enlarge, or change the circuits as in your judgment may be best.

     "You will, on no account, pay missionary money to any preacher who neglects his work.

     "Although you will be connected with the Missouri Conference, it is my understanding that you will not, at any time, be required to labor within the State of Missouri, but will, together with such other ministers as may be sent for that purpose, remain in the Territories till you may wish a change.

     "Praying that the Divine blessing may attend yourself and family, I remain

     A settled determination had been fixed in my mind that I should never place my family, mostly females, upon Government land. I had neither leisure nor inclination to enter into the "claim" business. This I stated to the Bishop. It was accordingly arranged that I should, in addition to the general charge, be appointed to the Shawnee mission in Kansas, thus giving me the occupancy of the mission farm and buildings upon Wakarusa, already described, with a young man as my colleague, who should make his home with me, and perform the principal labors of the mission.

     The design, from the first, was the erection, at as early a period as practicable, of an Annual Conference in the Territories, and my instructions were to act with reference to that end. It was contemplated, also, that several preachers from my own or contiguous Conferences should be transferred with me, and a full supply at once furnished for the new field. With a view to this several of the Annual Conferences were visited. A deep interest in the work was manifested; many words of cheer were given; funds were freely contributed to aid in erecting churches in the Territories; several esteemed brethren expressed a desire to accompany me; but when they came to the point of immediate transfer and removal none were ready. The supposed demands of their own Conferences, the importunity of friends, domestic considerations, or other reasons prevailed, and it became apparent that I must enter the field alone and single-handed.

     Providence, however, sent me one assistant. Having heard of a young man, a graduate of the Wesleyan University at Middletown, Connecticut, recently licensed, and employed in the North Street mission, Indianapolis, I determined to try his courage. I found him employed, laboring with his hands in the erection of the new church edifice of his charge. The employment, the air, the whole contour of the young man told me that he would make a missionary. A proposition was made. A brief space was taken for consideration. An answer was received: "I will go." This decision gave to myself and family a much-valued friend, and to the work in Kansas the efficient labors of Rev. James S. Griffing, one of the first and most indefatigable explorers, still laboring faithfully in the ranks of his Conference.

     In view of the exciting conflict anticipated, and, indeed, already begun in Kansas, it was deemed a measure of prudence to go furnished with secular credentials in the form of letters of introduction from men in public life to whom I was personally known--men whose position was such to give them influence with the then existing Administration and its appointees in the Territories. I accordingly wrote to several, and obtained a prompt response. Gov. J. A. Wright, Hon. J. D. Bright, of the United States Senate, T. H. Hendricks, and J. G. Davis, of the House of Representatives, kindly furnished me with letters to Gov. Reeder and others, which proved of no small service, under the peculiar circumstances of the day and place.

     Meanwhile active preparations were going on in other departments. An obliging friend in Richmond selected and bought for me four noble draught horses; two new and substantial wagons were purchased, with appropriate rigging; the tent was prepared and stretched in the yard, by way of experiment; camp utensils were provided, and the family, from the least to the greatest, put in traveling trim. This done, the wagons were placed upon the scales and weighed, driven to the door, packed to their utmost capacity,

then re-weighed. By posted notices a crowd of citizens was collected, and the residue of goods and chattels placed under the hammer and sold to the highest bidder--about the sixth time in our itinerant life that we had been auctioned out.

     All being ready, leave was taken of our kind Richmond friends, and late in the afternoon of September 28th--I think-1854, we crossed Whitewater bridge and took the National Road west. Our company consisted of myself, wife, and seven children, brother Griffing and another young friend, who accompanied us; my eldest son remaining in Indiana and my second having already gone West. A short drive brought us to comfortable lodgings with a kind friend, and the two days following to Indianapolis. A case of sickness occurring on the way, required Mrs. G. to leave our train and take railroad to Indianapolis in advance, to procure medical aid for the little patient.

     Indianapolis had been our home a greater number of years than any other one place, and a large circle of endeared friends surrounded us. A Sabbath was spent; a season of worship enjoyed in Roberts Chapel, and leave taken. Monday came, the clouds gathered, and the rain poured in torrents through the day. All looked dark and lowering. But the hour had come; a little past noon the wagons were driven up. The members of the family, sheltered from the pelting storm, were helped on board, one by one. Each of the young men took his seat on a driver's box and grasped the lines. I mounted an extra saddle horse. Down Washington-street, over White River, and still westward was our course, the rain still descending in torrents. Dark and gloomy seemed the auspices of this, our second long westward removal. But erelong the rain ceased, the clouds dispersed, and the sun shone brightly upon the land of our home as we looked a farewell--the last to one of our company, till housed in the eternal home of heaven.
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     FOR several days our route lay through Western Indiana. The entire ground had been occupied by me in my previous fields of itinerant labor; all was familiar; friends were met and wants kindly supplied at every stage, insomuch that we were not allowed to take up the regular routine of camp life, till our Rubicon, the Wabash, was passed, the State line crossed, and Illinois entered; where, though hearts may not have been less large and warm, acquaintance ceased, and we became strangers, falling in with the westward title of emigration, with nothing to distinguish us from the restless crowd that are eagerly hurried on by the impulses of this world. Thenceforward we were to make our own way as others, expecting no favors, meeting no sympathy. To myself this was a trifle; on behalf of dependent ones it cost me some pangs. We submitted to our destiny. The regular quid pro quo gained us the necessaries of life. Sometimes we met with those whose avowed purpose was to "skin" as deeply as possible, and had to submit to a "sharp practice;" and then again we fell in with others who, learning our position and objects, seemed to take an interest, and doubtless sent up some petitions in our behalf.

     Our tent was first spread in the confines of Illinois, and thenceforward regularly through that great State, and the still broader one of Missouri, till the Territorial line was passed. The weather in the general was fine, the roads good, and all circumstances favorable. Several cases of sharp, temporary illness occurred on the way, requiring medical aid, but none of them, however, proved serious.

We hauled our sick on till they recovered, and realized no bad effects.

     A strict camp discipline was introduced. At a fixed hour, long before the dawn, I arose, guided by my watch, roused up the fire, and called up the operatives of our company, while the juniors or feeble ones continued to rest. The steeds were fed, curried, and harnessed, the morning meal prepared, our devotions offered, the repast taken, baggage and camp equipage reloaded, the tent struck, and each one reseated. "All ready," and the line of march was taken up. A rest was allowed at noon, the team baited, and a lunch taken. As we neared the setting sun, a convenient grove was sought, where access could be had to fuel and water; the teams were driven up, some pitched the tent, while others collected wood; a rousing camp-fire was raised, around which the group of all ages assembled, and the early evening hours were spent in cheerful conversation; the steeds were haltered up to the wagons and provided with full supplies; supper was prepared, evening devotions performed, the demands of appetite satisfied down to the youngest, and with grateful hearts all retired to rest, the family occupying our tent, and others making a dormitory of a wagon. After all others were snugly stored away, it was mine to pass around, carefully tuck them all in, closing all apertures, look to the safety and comfort of the teams, adjust the camp-fires, and then myself retire. Candor, however, compels me to admit that, under this process of first up and last down, with other fatigues, before the trip was completed I "caved in," and was compelled to surrender the honor of "firing the first gun" of the morning to a junior.

     Our somewhat spacious tent and two large wagons, five sturdy and sleek steeds, with a numerous and often garrulous company, collected around our evening board, by the light of a blazing log fire made some show in a grove, and often attracted attention and elicited remark, according to the different habits and tastes of observers. One in passing, perhaps with whetted appetite, was heard to say, "I intend

to go there and board." Another, in a group of horseback travelers, said, "That looks like camp meeting." This was a clew to their character. A confab ensued. They were a company of Illinois preachers en route for Conference. At a later hour in the evening they visited our camp. A season of conversation and joint worship was enjoyed, and we were refreshed together.

     Camp life, while it has its exposures and hardships, has in it much that is exciting and interesting. My family expressed a decided preference for camp lodgings over the quarters at public houses, to which we occasionally resorted. We regular nomads, who are much upon the plains, sometimes raise the question, whether, after all, this thing of living and lodging within walls, upon floors, under roofs, and walking over carpets, is not an innovation upon the order of nature.

     Our Sabbaths were, of course, spent in camp, and, when practicable, we engaged in religious services with those around us. Occasionally, a week-day had to be spent in camp for the purpose of bringing up domestic arrangements; the teams rested, and the whole establishment was temporarily converted into a laundry and bake-shop. Provisions, as we advanced, were found to be scarce, and obtained at high rates; and doleful accounts met us of failure of crops, high prices, want, and probable starvation on the frontier, should we have the temerity to go on.

     The greatest actual inconvenience suffered was from want of water, through the fertile but dry regions of Missouri. So great was the scarcity that even the few that had a supply of good pure water, defended it with a jealousy that, to us, straitened as we were, seemed ungenerous. But, then, we were looked upon as mere "Kansas adventurers," and little sympathy was felt. Wells were guarded or locked, pump cranks taken off, and access interdicted, sometimes in terms not the most gentle. The ingenious expedients sometimes resorted to in an extremity, by our juniors, such as the application of our monkey-wrench in place of a removed

crank, etc., might possibly amuse, but, perhaps, would not bear a rigid moral analysis on any other ground than the super-legal one of necessity. While chuckling over these exploits around the camp-fire, my ears would sometimes be reached; but I could not find it in my heart to censure very severely, especially when enjoying the cool beverage won by their adventures.

     Few adventures occurred till near the close of our journey. A single one I shall never forget, for the momentary pang it produced. Our teams were carefully managed, well provided for, and, consequently, kept in good spirits. Now and then the regular drivers took a short recess, and committed the lines pro tem. to an unpracticed juvenile of our group. On one such occasion, the wagon that bore the freight of human life was intrusted to these incompetent hands. I had stopped a moment at a wayside house on some needful errand, and was then walking up some distance in the rear. The little charioteer, in endeavoring to leap from his seat to the ground, lines in hand, tripped and fell. The horses took fright and were off in a tangent with all our feminines and little ones on board, increasing speed at every jump, as though they would drive all to destruction. Distinctly do I, even now, remember an audible ejaculatory groan, loudly and involuntarily uttered, and falling back upon my own ear, as I saw them passing away with a speed that defied our efforts. Providence interfered. The lines dragging loosely, caught upon the hub of the wagon and wound around it; and, being new and strong, they gradually drew the excited steeds up and brought them to a stand-still; thus, under God, preventing an awful calamity.

     Reaching Springfield, the capital of Illinois, I found the Conference in session, spent most of a day, enjoyed an agreeable interview with brethren, had some consultation with Bishop Morris touching my work, and sought out and visited some of the friends of my childhood from whom I. had been long separated.

     The session of the Missouri Annual Conference for that

year was to be held at Hannibal. To that Conference I was transferred, and within its nominal bounds I was to labor. My presence was needed at the Conference in adjusting the preliminaries of our work. My aim had been to reach Hannibal in due time. Finding that the teams would fail in this, I left our company to proceed of themselves, and took the railroad train west for Naples, upon the Illinois River, the terminus of the road. Arrived in the evening. I found the meager hotels preoccupied by a circus company, offering their intellectual and moralizing entertainment, and producing the usual sensation in a backwoods western community. The "little city" was all astir. "No room for strangers." Their place had been honored with a demonstration, and the "distinguished guests" must be served to the exclusion of all others. In my extremity, I had resort to an expedient never practiced by me except in extreme cases, to throw myself upon my Methodism, and inquire for Church members; with what success, and how I passed the night, need not be made matter of history. In the morning took stage for Griggsville, where the stage route terminated; there hired a horse and buggy for Hannibal, and reached the place at an advanced stage of the Conference session.

     Here a disappointment met me, rarely equaled in my life. The understanding already had for our occupancy of the mission premises among the Shawnees has been stated. Toward that point I was tending. On reaching Hannibal, I learned that the title of the farm and improvements had been transferred to an Indian who wished to lay his large claim or head-right under the late treaty, so as to embrace these premises. It had been sold and his notes taken; possession to be given in the Spring. Here I as brought to a stand; on my way with a large family to the frontier, Winter just at hand, and no shelter in view. The sale had been wholly an unauthorized one; but, in the already-excited state of affairs, it was not deemed prudent to interfere with it. A joint occupancy of the mission premises

till Spring was proposed. This I declined. For a time, I thought of changing our course, passing Kansas by, and steering immediately for the region of Council Bluffs, where I now reside, and which, in my former tour, had impressed me as a desirable and convenient location for my future work. But, then, I was already committed to a removal to Kansas. This had been made public; my intended headquarters made known, and friends, ministerial and others, invited to seek me out. To return now, or even to change my course, might be misunderstood, and, unexplained, might operate to the prejudice of my work. These considerations prevailed; an onward movement was resolved upon to Kansas, at all hazards; leaving future details to be guided by Providential indications. That man of God, Rev. John H. Dennis, then late presiding elder of Hannibal district, was resident in the place, and was about to receive an appointment to Wyandott mission in Kansas, and, in a few weeks, to follow on with his family. He kindly proposed to shelter me and mine, if need required, in his mission cabin, till we could erect another and screen ourselves from the storms of approaching Winter.

     The formal Episcopal sanction was now given to what had already been fixed in my case. My name was enrolled as a member of Missouri Conference, and my appointment was read out for Kansas and Nebraska district, and also for Shawnee mission, though, under the circumstances now presented, the special reason for my appointment to the mission did not exist. W. D. Gage, who had already gone to Nebraska, was appointed to Old Fort Kearney mission, and Thomas J. Ferril, who had taken a claim in Kansas, was assigned to Maries Des Cygnes. No other was found for our work among the white settlers except the youthful J. L. Griffing who was sent to Wakarusa. John H. Dennis, whose health had so far declined as to render him incapable of effective labor, was appointed to Delaware and Wyandott Indian mission, with the hope that, his labors being lightened by the aid of native preachers, he might,

under the genial influences of the climate, be restored. His state of health then demanded a release, but none could be spared from the work.

     An anomaly appears this year upon the face of the General Minutes as published. A confused understanding existed as to the claims of Iowa and Missouri Conferences for Territorial jurisdiction, and the Kansas and Nebraska district appears in both Conferences; in the former all the appointments "to be supplied," and in the latter with the names of the men attached.

     The district to which I was appointed as superintendent, or presiding elder, embraced the entire Territories of Kansas and Nebraska, a region extending from the State lines on the east to the Rocky Mountains on the west, and from the waters of the Arkansas on the south to the British possessions on the north, a territory equal in extent to six times that of the largest State in the Union. True, much of it was unsettled, but the sparse settlements had already spread over a large district of country, and great accessions were confidently anticipated. To this field I was sent with only three coadjutors, one of these an aged, gray-haired man, and another a stripling just admitted. The work was to be provided for as best I could. Men were to be found, employed, their fields assigned, and compensation fixed. The entire responsibility was committed to individual hands, besides the large amount of personal travel and labor involved.

     These matters adjusted, I without delay started back to meet my family, and on the 15th day of October found them in good health, encamped on the east bank of Illinois River. In my absence they had traveled safely and prosperously, part of the time in company with Rev. Mr. Blood, a Presbyterian clergyman, and his family, with whom they had fallen in. Mr. B. was on his way to Kansas, and his name is since identified with its history. Here my family had encamped to spend the Sabbath, and to take another day for domestic purposes. While encamped here a steamboat

passed up and stopped for a time at an uninhabited island in our view. I knew the cause of their detention; they were burying a man who had died on board from cholera; but for the time, from prudential motives, I concealed it from our company.

     A few days' drive brought us to the Mississippi; crossed and encamped in the suburbs of Hannibal; were visited by Rev. J. H. Dennis and others; arranged some further preliminaries; passed the night and moved on, leaving brother P. and family to follow in a short time. Our way through Missouri, this time, lay over a fertile country, but less improved than that upon my former route. It occupied nearly three weeks. The two Sabbaths included were spent in the pulpit, one of them in that of the Methodist Episcopal Church South. As we advanced provisions became more scarce and dear, and accounts from the border more discouraging, but I had learned long before not to be turned away from my course by floating rumors.

     Arrived within about forty miles of Territorial line, I deemed it prudent to leave the family and go in advance, reconnoiter, and seek a temporary shelter to which I should take them before they should enter. A vacant cabin was obtained, of which our company took possession for a few days, and I set out again on horseback upon a prospecting tour. Sometimes I thought of stopping for the Winter in one of the contiguous towns of Liberty and Independence, and renting a temporary home, whence I might travel into the Territories I had even stopped in the former place and made some contingent arrangements. This plan met with no favor in my family consultations; they were for going directly into the Territory. And it was well, for these two places became the hot-beds of excitement in the coming conflict; rivals, as has been before seen, in the heated prosecution of Kansas strifes and tragedies. At the former place was the arsenal, from which the United States armies were subsequently taken to be used in the conflict.

     Entering the Territory I met the committee appointed at
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the Conference to adjust the affairs of the Shawnee Mission premises. They had just returned from the mission, and I learned that there was no prospect of a home on the Wakarusa. I then called upon Colonel Robinson, the United States Agent for the Shawnees, Delawares, and Wyandotts, explained my mission, and asked his permission to make a temporary residence with one of these tribes. The Colonel had no very good feelings toward any person or object approaching him from a northerly direction; but my letters of introduction from distinguished men of his own party gained me a courteous hearing and a favorable reply. He agreed that I should make a home among either of these tribes with the consent of the chiefs or Council. The Council of the Wyandotts was then in session. I visited them at the Council-House, obtained a hearing; placed before them, through their interpreter, my character and objects; told them that I had come "to do them good and not harm," and asked the privilege of a year's residence among them. The chiefs held a brief consultation and gave their consent. This done I went into their settlements and hired for a year a small farm in the heart of the tribe, with a little brick house, orchard, and other accommodations rather superior to those ordinarily found in the Indian country. The owner was a blind Indian of the "Zane" stock, well known in Wyandott history. Writings were drawn, and all was made sure.

     A home being thus secured, I once more set off to join the family. On the second day, in the morning, I met the teams advancing. They were in the midst of a rugged country, the road steep, rough, and craggy; and to my surprise I found Mrs. G. occupying the driver's seat of one of the wagons, and guiding the team over the difficult way. The cause was soon explained. Brother Griffing, who had officiated as teamster, had had, during my absence, a violent attack of disease, which had quite prostrated him. Mrs. G., unwilling to remain longer, when the day for starting arrived, had stowed him away comfortably in the rear of the

wagon, taken the lines herself, and was moving on safely. For the rest of the journey this duty devolved upon me.

     On the evening of November 3d we encamped upon the bank of Missouri River nearly opposite Kansas City; on the following morning ferried over to the city and took our course upward. One mile brought us to the line of the Territory, and half a mile further to the Kaw or Kansas River, at the Wyandott Ferry near its mouth. A long journey had been performed in safety. We were now within three miles of our destination, little dreaming of the exciting scene just before us.

     The river here, at its low stage, was near two hundred yards in width. The banks were left mucky and soft by the receding water, without footing for man or beast, save at the immediate points of landing on either side. The ferry was managed by Indians; the boat was a crazy flat, with a rope stretched from bank to bank, by which it was propelled and guided with the hands. The lighter wagon was taken over first and safely landed, the family remaining on the near shore. Next, the heavier wagon was drawn in, and to insure the ascent of the rock at the place of landing, the team was doubled, thus necessarily increasing the weight. Brother Griffing sat in the wagon, and the other young man and myself took charge of the horses. Scarcely had we fairly got into the stream till we found that the water was gushing in upon us at an alarming rate. There was no turning back; all hope was in pulling ahead with a vengeance, and that was "forlorn." The Indians worked with desperation, and we commenced to free our horses. All were loosened, and one or two stripped of the harness. The boat sank deeper and deeper, the loose falsebottom floated up, and the horses all went overboard into the current. The Indians held on vigorously to the rope till the weight of the boat, filled with water, compelled them to loosen the grasp, and the crazy old craft floated away down the current with its load, and Griffing seated in the front of the wagon, as he afterward said, "alone in his glory." Early in the struggle

I had been knocked overboard, an event for which I had prepared myself by doffing the outer garments; and thus fairly committed to the stream, I was at liberty to play to and fro as occasion required.

     The course of the current providentially drifted the boat down into shoal water near the further side, where it rested, the body of the wagon being out of water. The horses all swam to the further shore, and at the brink mired down almost inextricably. Here we were; on one side four large horses almost hopelessly sunk, and nearly covered from view, and the bank so spongy as not to admit an approach by some rods; in the stream the boat, the wagon, and brother G.; and on the opposite aide the family looking anxiously on. It being Saturday, a great crossing-day, a crowd of mingled whites and Indians began to accumulate on each shore, unable to cross for want of the lost boat, and held on by the novelty of the scene.

     We were not long idle. The first effort was to relieve the horses. The crowd, Indians especially, came to our aid. A skiff was procured, and an approach was made by water. Timber was obtained, and a bridge made over the mud, so as to reach them from the land side. Still it was difficult to afford aid. The poor beasts struggled, and we labored for a great part of the day. One horse, with some aid, made his way to terra firma. Another was helped back into the stream, swam by the side of the skiff to the rock landing, and was taken ashore. Two got back into the river, and swam to the opposite shore, where they mired down again, and the scene had to be repeated; one of them dragging me in a skiff, while I was vainly striving to lead him in another direction. At length, when the day was well-nigh spent, we succeeded in landing the last horse upon Wyandott soil.

     Another boat was then obtained and thrust in between our sunken craft and the shore, forming a bridge; the loading all carried ashore; the wagon taken asunder, and, piece by piece, carried to land; put together again, and reloaded;

the family brought over, and taken in; the team reharnessed and hitched up; and not an article found wanting, except a set of trace-chains, afterward recovered from the bottom of the boat. The places of those were soon supplied by cords, and we were again in moving trim; though our horses were in rather sorry plight from their protracted conflict with Kaw River muck. Almost that entire November day was spent by me in the river, or the mire, and nearly destitute of clothing.

     The Indians had staid by us, and labored faithfully to the last. At the close of the scene I proclaimed that I would, with many thanks, bestow a gold dollar upon every one of the company who would receive it. Save the ferryman and three or four others, all present had the magnanimity to refuse a remuneration.

     The family once again seated, under the guidance of the late brother Clark, a native local preacher and interpreter, we were driven to our hired home, which we reached about dark on Saturday evening, November 4, 1854. Others had gone in advance, and kindled a fire, around which we gladly assembled, after a toilsome journey of five weeks; thankful to a kind Providence for his gracious care, and glad once more to find a home, temporary though it was, and that "in a strange land."

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