THE ides of December, 1855, found my family at their Glenwood home, on the Western slope of Iowa, with temporary adjustments for approaching Winter, and myself in the Territory, just entering upon the labors of Nebraska district.

     Henceforward these chapters will assume a different form. The history of Kansas Territory will be pursued no further, except in incidental references. It is already before the world in all its bloody atrocity; but there is an unwritten history which will not be fully revealed till God shall right up the nations of earth. Nor will the details of travel and labor, even in my own field, be further presented. Enough has been given to furnish an idea of missionary life and incident on the frontier; and the details of the past may be taken as samples of the events of succeeding years.

     The settlements in Nebraska Territory were sparse and remote from each other, forming an extended line upon Missouri River, reaching, excepting intervals of Indian reservation, from the Kansas line to the region opposite the mouth of the Great Sioux, with some settlers as far up as the Niobrarah or Running Water, a distance of some three hundred miles, by the course of the river, facing against a large section of the State of Missouri, all the western front of Iowa, and a portion of Western Minnesota, known as Dacotah Territory. Added to these were strings of settlements upon the tributary streams. Great and Little Nemaha, Weeping Water, Great Platte,. Elkhorn, and soon after Loup Fork and Wood River, each having its line of cabins and squatters extending back from fifty to one hund-

red and fifty miles interior. These were to be visited and cared for, not always in regular quarterly rotation, but as ability and circumstances allowed.

     The Winter was one of intense severity. The winds that sweep with such fury over those vast plains, unbroken by a single forest from the Rocky Mountains, passed, much of that season, over fields of ice and snow, and reached the ill-provided settlers chilled by an atmosphere twenty degrees, or more, below zero. Labor was suspended. Traveling was attended, not merely with intense suffering, but with positive hazard of life. Cattle were frozen to death in large numbers, and not a few human lives were sacrificed, sometimes in the effort to procure from the river settlements food for the suffering families in the interior.

     Intervals at home were seasons of labor and exposure. A large proportion of the fuel consumed in my own house was cut by myself, and hauled a distance of three miles over a bleak prairie, from a fear that my sons would perish in the attempt, actual trial having demonstrated that my own system resisted the effects of cold better than those of persons who were younger and less used to exposure. The ensuing Winter was much of the same character.

     Some affecting instances of the loss of life by freezing occurred. A man and his son, who had forced their way, with a load of provisions, for thirty miles through cold and snow, perished within one mile of home. I often visited the bereaved and helpless widow and orphans. Another case, not less sad, I personally witnessed. A father and son, named Poe, set out on foot from the neighborhood of Nebraska City in search of " claims;" the father aged but robust, the son a lad of fifteen. Some days were spent in the pursuit,. and they were overtaken in a snow-storm. Days and nights were spent without fire. Refuge was taken in a vacated cabin, where some abandoned bedding was found. Boots were cut from the frozen limbs, and bandages of strips torn from the bed-clothing were applied. Unable to walk, an attempt was made to crawl away, but

strength failed, and they returned to the cabin. The father folded the son in his arms, wrapped the scanty clothing around them, and lay down to die. At that moment a man appeared, attracted by the noise; help was obtained, and they were removed. The son soon died. I saw the father in extreme agony, with some of his limbs amputated, and expecting still further dismemberment. But death came to his relief. The morning following my visit I was sent for to preach his funeral. In all his suffering he expressed Christian peace and confidence in God.

     In the Spring of 1856 I made a trip East, as far as Cincinnati; attended, for a few days, the General Conference then sitting at Indianapolis; had an interview with the Bishops in relation to frontier interests; gave the needful attention to the subject of erecting our Territorial Conference, and returned home. Our return passage was fortunate and pleasant. Our steamer was making her first trip from Cincinnati, and had not been brought under "ruffian rule." Her passengers were "all right." Religious services were held; social intercourse enjoyed; and a valuable accession was made to the moral and religious society of Nebraska Territory.

     Not long after Conference I was notified of the erection of Kansas and Nebraska Conference; also of my own appointment as a member of the General Mission Committee for the ensuing four years, to represent all the Conferences west of the Mississippi, except those on the Pacific. Two years had not passed, since, single-handed and alone, I had entered this field. Now there were three districts, and some twenty fields of labor. There were then within our bounds twelve members of Conference, all ordained elders. The remaining preachers were on trial.

      Much of the emigration to Kansas during this year passed through Iowa and Nebraska, entering Kansas on the North, the passage up the Missouri being still obstructed. Several large bodies passed through, known as "Lane's men," and encamped a longer or shorter time in Nebraska.

     I generally visited their camps, preaching and distributing books and tracts as opportunity served. In one of these companies was the ill-fated Captain Chambray, a young attorney, my personal acquaintance, from Richmond, Indiana, who fell soon after entering Kansas. The mass of these emigrants seemed to be men of the right stamp, moral, brave, and lovers of freedom. Time, however, soon proved that among these were some who were mere marauders; entering under the flag of freedom, but for purposes of rapine and plunder.

     During the course of the year, we were enabled to fill nearly or quite all the vacancies in our work. Two camp meetings were held; one in the vicinity of Rock Bluff, which was largely attended, and resulted in good; another near Nebraska City, with smaller attendance, but also a season of interest. At the latter were present several Kansas refugees, driven away by the violence of the times.

     The time drew near for the first assembling of our new Conference. It was to convene in Kansas. Great excitement prevailed there. Many apprehensions were entertained by friends as to the safety of a journey through that agitated Territory, in those perilous times. One preacher, from Nebraska district, went down by water; none by land except myself. It had been in my mind to go down with a company of emigrants; but not being ready, I was disappointed. Obtaining a volunteer traveling companion by furnishing him a seat and paying his expenses, I set out fully equipped, passing down through Nebraska and entering Kansas by "Lane's route." I soon learned that the large company to which I had thought of attaching myself had been captured by the United States troops on the line, and carried down as prisoners to Topeka. Finding another company encamped near the line, I made arrangements to join them, but, on further observation of their habits, preferred to travel without them.

     Entering Kansas Territory with my single escort, we soon came to the place where the United States troops were

stationed. We approached the line not knowing whether we should be arrested or suffered to proceed. We were hailed by the sentry, and came to a halt. The officer of the guard was called; but he returned no answer, whether drunk or asleep I know not. The guard cursed him and bade us go on.

     As we traveled South we passed several temporary fortifications, thrown up for defense by emigrant parties. By noon, on Saturday, we reached the Pottawatamie Reserve, but could proceed no further, my horse having been badly injured in leaping a ravine. On Sabbath morning we arrived at Topeka, and found a quarterly meeting in progress.

     Resting for a day or two among friends, in the neighborhood of Tecumseh, we pursued our way. Learning that the trial of the "free-state prisoners," about one hundred in number, was in progress at Lecompton, the appointed seat of government, we resolved to visit the place and see something of the proceedings. Accordingly, we turned aside from our direct route, and made our way down to the far-famed capital; a little, ill-situated, out-of-the-way place, with a group of unsightly, temporary buildings, and a floating street population, with all the indications of dissipation and vice.

     Quarters being taken at the hotel, I started out to see the "lions" of the place. Some distance below, upon the street, I saw a house surrounded by men, and, apparently, a common center of attraction. Supposing this to be the place of holding the court, I bent my steps thither. Advancing toward the door, I was abruptly stopped by an armed man, and forbidden to enter. I persisted, claiming the right, as an American citizen, to enter the halls of justice, but was still firmly repelled. The guard, at length, pointed me to Col. Titus, the officer in charge, by whose leave I might enter. Approaching the gallant Colonel, with his hand yet in a sling from a wound received in the recent fight, I inquired if I could not enter. "No," said he, "not unless you are counsel for some of the prisoners

or a relative." What was my surprise, in explanation, to find that I had mistaken the prison for the court-room! Here were near one hundred American citizens, confined in a foul hole, surrounded by armed men, awaiting the "glorious uncertainty" of Kansas law. The Colonel courteously pointed me to the court-room, and I turned my steps in that direction.

     Arrived at the place, I found a filthy little shanty, entered it and seated myself. Here, in grave dignity, sat the august representative of the Federal power, whose name gained a brief immortality by its connection with this place, and its far-famed Constitution. A haggard-looking specimen of humanity was thumbing the volumes of a law library, perched upon some rude shelves. A few rugged lookers-on occupied the seats, whether as jurors or spectators I could not determine. His honor, now and then, passed a familiar word with them, and at length lit his pipe and deliberately walked out, leaving the court to take care of itself. Not a word did I hear that savored of legal proceeding.

     Satisfied with this exhibition of my country's glory, I again started. The remains of houses, in some of which I had, in former times, been a guest, now burned to the ground, met my eye; the late inhabitants being in tents near the site of their consumed dwellings; sad exemplification of the ruthless spirit of violence that had run riot in the land.

     Arriving at Lawrence, I sought the residence of my former friend, Rev. L. B. Dennis, the presiding elder of the district, passed the night with himself and family, and talked over the strange scenes of the past. I had the pleasure to present to him the handsome donation of fifty dollars, contributed by a few friends about me, as a testimonial of their regard for his faithful and fearless services in the late trying emergency. It was gratefully accepted, but afterward generously thrown into a common fund, contributed elsewhere, for the relief of suffering members of the Conference.

     Lawrence still presented the aspect of war. Demolished buildings, fortifications, the United States troops on the one hand, and the Territorial militia on the other, were the surroundings of the scene. The Conference sessions were to be held in a large cloth tent, which had been occupied for the purpose of religious worship. Bishop Baker was to preside, and in due time arrived, having been conducted by land across the State of Missouri by a competent escort. The preachers, too, were on hand in proper season. But when, before, did a Methodist Conference assemble, bearing arms! I can not say to what extent. But that some were armed I do know.

     At the proper hour, on the 23d day of October, 1856, the first session of the Kansas and Nebraska Conference was opened. The number of members of Conference was found to be increased, by transfers, to fifteen. Bishop Baker presided with his usual self-possession. The session was harmonious and pleasant. Brethren felt themselves cemented together by common sufferings and common perils, and rejoiced, after a year of unparalleled conflict, to meet again. The religious exercises were attended with Divine unction and weepings and rejoicings were mingled together.

     At this session it was resolved to request the Bishops to change the time of our annual session from Fall to Spring. Nebraska City was fixed as the place of the next session; and on Saturday evening, after a session of three days, the appointments were read out, and final adjournment had. The preachers remained for the Sabbath services; and I had the melancholy pleasure of preaching the funeral of my former friend and fellow-laborer, Rev. John H. Dennis, who, during the year, had triumphantly passed to his reward.

     Twenty-five mission-fields, including the districts, appear upon the Minutes of this year; and twenty-three preachers received appointments from the Conference. The number of white members, including probationers, was one thousand, one hundred and thirty-eight; Indians, one hundred and forty-four.

     THE Conference session over, we took our course for the Missouri River at Leavenworth. On the way I had the pleasure of making quite a number of the preachers my guests at the noon hour. They, of course, were liberal in their praises of my hot coffee and other camp fare.

     Passing the scenes of some of the late horrid murders, and the graves of the victims, we had from brethren of the company thrilling statements of the details.

     My attendance being required in the city of New York, at the session of the General Mission Committee, I accordingly, on reaching Leavenworth, sent my horse and buggy home by my traveling companion, and took a steamer for St. Louis; thence by railroad to Cincinnati, where, falling in with Bishop Morris, we made the trip together, spending a Sabbath pleasantly in Cleveland, and laboring in the churches. On the adjournment of the Committee, I hastened home via Chicago, taking stage at Iowa City, traveling night and day, and suffering much from the severe cold.

     The Bishops, upon consultation, determined to comply with the request of our Conference for a Spring session, and accordingly arranged for a tour of Conferences in the Spring, embracing Arkansas and Missouri also; a change that practically has been matter of sore experience both to the Bishops and the Conference. The time fixed for our session was April 16, 1857, thus reducing our first Conference year to six months.

     Another Winter not less severe than the preceding followed; the traveling being even more difficult, from the

large amount of snow lying in deep drifts, and with successive layers of incrustation, so as, in many places, to render traveling absolutely impracticable, except upon roads that were kept constantly beaten. My appointments were attended with regularity; but the severity of the season, want of suitable places of worship, and difficulty of traveling, greatly hindered the preachers in the labors of this short Winter year. As in the Winter previous, many persons perished by freezing. My journeying at this season of the year was on horseback. Once, with my faithful animal, I was near being cast away in a snow-drift. With great difficulty and labor we extricated ourselves. One of the preachers, on hearing it, wrote me, advising me not to venture thus; saying that, much as they desired my presence and aid, they did not wish it at the hazard of life.

     The Spring of 1857 was memorable for an extraordinary freshet upon the Upper Missouri. The immense mass of snow suddenly gave way, and the river overspread its banks for miles, filling the roads, stopping ferries, and, to a great extent, arresting travel and communication. This prepared the way for a personal adventure never to be forgotten. Spending a little season with my family, just before our Conference session, the Missouri River rose rapidly, and, ere I was aware, was near its highest stage. It was between me and the place of Conference. My Conference session had never passed without my attendance; and the distance must be overcome, if human exertion could accomplish it.

      With this purpose I set out, intending to try to reach an elevated point on the river, then surrounded by water for miles, but from which it was known that a ferry-flat was employed in transporting some live stock. The effort was made on Friday. The regular hack from Glenwood not running that day, I took a place in a wagon that on the previous day had passed out from the point referred to, and made my way about a mile through the water. The inhabitants were vacating their houses and fleeing to higher positions. Our progress was arrested, the waters had so risen

that the teamster could proceed no further. We retraced our steps and I returned to my home, brooding over the painful thought of absence from a Conference session. On Saturday I made another effort, hopeless as it seemed. Two hacks set out from Glenwood filled with passengers eager to cross. So soon as we reached the bluff and saw the vast expanse of water spread out before us, the old hackman said, "It is useless to go further." We urged him on down to the water's brink, but when there, all saw that further progress was impracticable. It was proposed to construct a raft of logs and endeavor to make our way down the current of a bayou which put in near the ferry. Of the ten anxious passengers all declined the hazard save three, two stalwart six-footers and myself.

     Dismissing our hackman and comrades, we took a wagon through the water to a cabin occupying an elevated spot on the brink of the bayou. Here we purchased two logs and sufficient plank, pinned the logs together at a distance of some four feet, nailed on a deck of plank, and launched our craft; took dinner, placed ourselves and baggage on board, and deliberately committed all to the current. It was a distance of about three miles to our desired landing, and all the way a world of water. The two juniors undertook to manage our float, while I was honored with the post of baggage-master. "Do n't drown the old pioneer," shouted a voice to the boys as we passed.

     The first half of our voyage was through open prairie. Here we were able to keep our course tolerably well, but on entering the timber we soon encountered logs and heaps of drift-wood. Attempting to pass a huge drift that presented itself broadside in the current, the treacherous craft careened, slid under the mass of logs and disappeared, leaving us afloat and "no bottom." The boys sprang upon the drift, I remained in the water till the last article of baggage was handed out, and then they drew me up.

     But now what was to be done? To retreat was impossible, and half the distance was yet before us. So on we

went, bearing our baggage, now wading, swimming, plunging in the cold water, the ice girdling the trees, through fallen timber or long, entangled grass; then, for a time, on a dry elevated spot, where the keen wind pierced through our saturated clothing, and chilled us even more than when in the water. Thus passed about two hours, sometimes consulting about trying to return, and then again urging onward. By this time I began to find it difficult to speak, from a cramp approaching, I suppose, to lock-jaw. Mentioning it to one of the young men, I found him affected in the same way. At length, when almost exhausted, we espied through the forest the buildings at the ferry. My young companions now left me, and urging their way, sent a man to my assistance, who met me just as I emerged for the last time from the waters, so enfeebled that in ascending a gentle slope of some ten feet I fell twice to the ground.

     O, how marvelous is the loving kindness of the Almighty! "His tender mercies are over all his works." Often I look back upon the perils of the past and wonder that I still live. Deeply have I felt in my own case the force of the remark of Mr. Wesley, " A special Providence has been over my life, or I should not have been alive to this day." We were taken to the cabin, supplied with dry clothing, warm drinks, and a good fire, and kindly cared for in all respects. Our clothing, books, papers, bank-bills, etc., were dried. The night passed comfortably. In the morning I felt refreshed, crossed the river, hired a conveyance, rode down to Nebraska City, and preached that night, my quarterly meeting being in progress, and never felt any inconvenience. Word went back that I was drowned, but when it was ascertained that I was actually alive and on the other shore, the statement was changed, and it was currently reported that I had "waded Missouri River."

      A few days were spent in preparatory arrangements for the reception and entertainment of our brethren of the Conference. As the day approached, they began to arrive in groups from remote fields and by different routes from both

Territories, each company with their tale of adventure. The weather was cold and stormy, and one party from Kansas had laid out all the previous night in the piercing wind upon the bank of the Nemaha, unable to procure a passage. But all were in fine spirits; no murmuring or complaining word was heard. The attendance was full, the reception cordial, and the mutual perils and escapes of the past but rendered the fraternal greeting the more joyous. Grateful prayers and praises went up to God, and with feeling personal application could all unite in the sentiment of our excellent Conference hymn

     Our intractable river disappointed us. On the morning of opening the session, Bishop Ames was on board a Missouri steamer, hundreds of miles below, endeavoring to make his way up against the mighty current. The hour arrived, the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was administered, the Conference was called to order, a president elected, and business proceeded in the usual order. The work of arranging the plan and appointing the preachers, as usual, went on at the same time; the session was pleasant, and by Saturday evening all the important business of the Conference was through, and the appointments were ready for announcement. It was thought advisable, however, to defer this till after the Sabbath, with the hope of the arrival of the Bishop. In the afternoon of the Sabbath he arrived, preached in the evening, reviewed and approved the Conference action and appointments, presided in a morning session, read the appointments, and the Conference adjourned. At this session Nebraska district was divided into two, Omaha district above the Great Platte, and Nebraska City district below. John M. Chivington was appointed to the former, myself to the latter. A new district also was formed in Kansas, making five in the Conference. Forty-eight mission-fields were constituted, including the districts,

and thirty-one preachers received appointments from the Conference. The remainder were left "to be supplied." Total of members and probationers, one thousand, two hundred and thirty-one. From this time forward the Indian membership ceases to be reported separately. Topeka, Kansas, was fixed as the place of the ensuing session.

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