\'Three Score Years and Ten\'

C >> Charlotte Ouisconsin Van Cleve >> \'Three Score Years and Ten\'

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A large number of Chippewa Indians were encamped about us most of the
time, and not being able to hunt successfully, on account of the very
deep snow, were driven to great extremity, and sometimes, acting on
the well established principle, that "self-preservation is the first
law of nature," broke in the windows of our extemporized granaries,
and helped themselves to grain. They were welcome to it under the
circumstances, but in obtaining it they had broken in the windows, and
had mixed glass with it to such an extent that it was unsafe for food
until we had picked it all over, grain by grain. This process was our
daily occupation and amusement. I distinctly recall the scene in our
dining-room, when all the available members of the family were seated
around a long pine table, with a little pile of wheat before each,
replenished from time to time from the large heap in the center,
working away industriously, conversing cheerfully, telling interesting
and amusing stories, singing songs, never complaining, but all
manifesting a feeling of gratitude that we still saw before us what
would support life, for, at least, a while longer; and taking heart
and strength to endure, in the hope that before this, our last
resource was exhausted, we should receive our long expected supplies,
which were somewhere on the way to us. This wheat was boiled, and
eaten with salt, the only seasoning of any kind we had; no butter, no
milk, no meat, nothing, and yet we never can forget the intense relish
with which our children partook of it, one of them remarking, on one
occasion, "Mother, how good this wheat is; I wish you would write to
Ann Arbor and tell the boys there of it; I don't believe they know." A
little child was teaching us, and the amount of strength and comfort
imparted to us by such a manifestation of perfect contentment,
gratitude and trust can never be computed in words. We realized in
those days, as never before, the full force and beauty of the
Icelandic custom: living in the midst of dangers seen and unseen,
these people, we are told, every morning open the outer door, and
looking reverently up to Heaven, thank God they are still alive. So
when with each returning day we saw our children safe and well, our
first feeling was, gratitude that the Eternal God, who was our only
refuge, had not removed from underneath us His everlasting arms.

The nearest settlement of any kind was "Swan River," on the
Mississippi, but we were so completely blockaded with snow, that no
team could possibly get through. Two or three times during that
memorable winter, our oldest son, a boy of eighteen years, made the
trip on snow-shoes, at the risk of his life, to get our mail, and
learn, if possible, something from our supplies. The round trip was a
three days' journey, and there being no stopping place or house of any
kind on the route, he, of course, was obliged to camp out one night.
Our anxiety during his absence was terrible, and we remember vividly
our overpowering sense of relief, when, at the close of the third day,
long before his form was discernible, some familiar song in his clear
ringing tones, broke on the still night air, to assure the dear home
folks he was safe and well. Like the man whose business was so urgent
he could not stop to rest, but now and then picked up a stone and
carried it some distance, then threw it down, and went on relieved and
encouraged, so we, when we laid down this burden of anxiety felt
rested and better able to bear our daily trials.

It is due to our only neighbors, the Indians, to say that they were by
no means troublesome, that our intercourse with them was pleasant, and
to some of them we became much attached. A great chief's wife was a
frequent visitor at our house, her little son, of perhaps eight
winters being her invariable attendant. On one occasion having missed
a small case-knife of rather peculiar formation, which was in daily
use, I ventured to ask her if the little lad had taken it to their
wigwam, it occurred to me he might have done so, innocently to show to
some of his family, in whose honesty I had implicit faith. The old
woman drew herself up to her full height, and with a grace and dignity
which would have done honor to the mother of the Gracchi, said, in all
the expressiveness of her native tongue: "_The son of Ne-ba-quum
cannot steal!_" In real admiration and reverent contrition, I laid my
hand on the injured mother's shoulder, and explained my meaning. She
accepted my apology fully and graciously, giving me her hand, in token
that my error was condoned, and you will readily believe it was never
repeated. Through all the years of our residence at Long Prairie she
and her family were always welcome guests at our house, when in their
wanderings they came that way, and when, during our late war, her
brave, loyal husband's offers to assist us in our struggle, were
contemptuously scorned by one of our Generals, and the mortified,
broken-hearted old chieftain, unable to bear up under such an insult,
went to the "happy hunting grounds," we sincerely mourned the loss of
our staunch and honored friend, Ne-ba-quum.

Some time in January, our five year old boy was very suddenly seized
with pleurisy in its most violent form, and for hours he seemed in
mortal agony. We had no efficient remedies, no doctor within thirty,
perhaps fifty miles, and to complicate matters, I had lain down sick
for the first time, thoroughly vanquished by fatigue and unusual
exposure. But that sickness of mine had to be postponed, and we fought
all that night with the fearful disease, using vigorously all the
external remedies within our reach, cupping the dear child with
inexperienced hands, but prayerful hearts, leaning entirely upon God,
who, when we cried unto Him in our distress, heard and mercifully
regarded our cries. The acute and agonizing symptoms of the attack
were subdued, but lung fever supervened, and for four weeks our dear
boy lay very near death. His form wasted, his hands, through extreme
attenuation, became almost translucent, and we could only watch and
pray, and use all the means in our power to alleviate his sufferings.
I recall the seasons of family worship around that sick bed, when we
were drawn so near the All-pitying Father that we could talk with Him,
as a man talketh with his friend, when the loving Savior made us feel
that He was near us to sympathize with us, and the Blessed Comforter
brooded over us, and spoke peace to our sorrowing hearts, so that we
could say, "Thy will be done," and from our hearts could sing:

"_Ill_ that God blesses is our _good_,
And unblest _good_ is ill;
And all is right, that seems most wrong,
If it be His dear will.

"When obstacles and trials seem
Like prison walls to be;
We'll do the little we can do,
And leave the rest to Thee."

During this trying time, our stock of candles was nearly exhausted,
and our weary watchings were only lighted by a sense of God's
presence. So with our hand on the dear sufferer, and our ear attentive
to his breathing, his father and I sat beside him, lighting our candle
only when absolutely necessary, and felt as none can feel until they
have tested it, the sustaining grace and Infinite love of the Blessed
Watcher, who never slumbers nor sleeps. He granted us sweet thoughts
of His love and precious promises, which were to us as songs in the
night, and under the shadow of His wings, our hearts were kept in
perfect peace. Thanks to the Great Healer, a change for the better
came, and then occurred a strange thing, that has always seemed to me
directly Providential.

During a bitter wind and blinding snow storm, some snow birds took
refuge in our wood-shed and were caught by the Indian boys. At the
suggestion of our oldest son, who had read somewhere the story of a
sick child and her Canaries, these little refugees were brought into
the nursery and soon became perfectly tame, flying all about the sick
boy's head, lighting on his hands, and amusing and resting him
wonderfully. For several days the storm continued, and we sheltered
the little creatures, our invalid growing better so rapidly as to
excite our surprise. But at last there came a mild bright day, and we
turned them out to find their companions. Why was it that they flew
only a few rods and then fell dead? To us it seemed that these little
winged messengers had been driven to us in our extremity by the fury
of the storm as healing agents, and had given their lives for our
child's. The question now arose, where shall we find suitable food for
our convalescent? There seemed no possible help for us, but we
believed it would come. One morning as I sat wondering how this would
be brought about, my dear brother came in, and handing me a fresh laid
egg, said: "I did not know there was a fowl on the place, but it
seems that an old superannuated hen, who doubtless has lived in the
wheat all winter has suddenly been aroused to a sense of her duty, and
this is the result." Had the golden egg, famous in fable, been
presented in his other hand for my choice, it would have been to me no
better than a chip, but the treasure he brought me was of priceless
value, and I received it gratefully as a gift from God. It furnished a
whole day's nourishment for our exhausted, feeble little boy, and for
three days he was supplied in the same way; then, just as he was more
hungry than ever, and when it was evident he never could regain his
strength without nourishment, the supply ceased. We waited and
trusted, and in a day or two our son found a fine pheasant, which had
evidently lost its way, sitting in the snow, wondering, perhaps, where
all its companions were, and why the berries were all gone. Where it
came from we never knew, but we do know that there never was so
delicious a bird eaten. It was reserved for the sick child, but a
small piece was given to each of the other children, and not one of
them will ever forget the taste of that precious morsel. By the time
this nutritious supply was exhausted, our invalid was so much better
as to be able to do his share of picking over wheat, and of eating
this simple but very healthful diet.

Soon after this the wheat ran low, the long hard winter had told upon
us all, and we seemed to need more substantial food as we had never
needed it before. Day after day we managed to prepare something that
sustained life, but I had a nursing child, and supporting myself and
him too, almost solely upon a wheat diet, had been hard on me and I
was much exhausted. We did not lose faith; the spirit was willing, but
the flesh was growing weak. I sat one morning after our simple
breakfast, with my precious baby in my lap, wondering on what I should
feed the dear ones at noon, as scarcely anything remained. The
children were full of glee in their unconscious ignorance, and I must
not, by a word of repining, shake their sweet trust and faith. Our
eldest son sat near me, reading my thoughts, but saying nothing, only
conveying by a loving look his sympathy, when, suddenly, a shadow
darkened the window; he looked up quickly, and said: "Mother, look
there!" I looked, and directly at our door were two sleds heavily
laden with our long-looked for supplies! Then came the first tears I
had shed that winter. I could not speak, but my over-wrought feelings
found most salutary relief in those blessed, grateful tears. There was
danger that the powerful reaction would overcome me entirely, but very
soon every member of the little colony knew that relief had come, and
the work of unloading the sleds, opening boxes, and unheading barrels,
was carried on with such ardor, as to leave no chance for such a
result, especially as we learned that the teamsters had had no
breakfast, that they had been three days coming 28 miles; had been
obliged to shovel their way through great drifts, a few rods at a
time, and had reached us thoroughly worn out and exhausted. Then came
the preparation of that wonderful breakfast. No need that a priest
should burn frankincense and myrrh, sending up our orisons in the
smoke thereof. The odor of that frying pork, the aroma of that
delicious coffee, the perfume of that fragrant tea went up to heaven,
full freighted with thanksgiving and praise. No need that a President
or Governor should proclaim a day when we should return thanks in view
of God's great goodness; it proclaimed itself, and every human being
within our reach was bidden to our thanksgiving feast.

Our supplies were ample and varied, and 3 o'clock found a large
company seated around a table loaded with excellent, well-cooked food,
of which all partook with a gusto most flattering and gratifying to
the cook, who was glad to retire to her room with her baby, when the
meal was over and rest on her laurels, while the young people danced
and made merry in very gladness of heart.

Night closed around a little settlement of thoroughly grateful, happy
human beings. What if it was still cold, and there must yet be many
stormy days? No fear of suffering or starvation. God had not forgotten
us, and we should never cease to trust Him. I could not sleep for very
joy, and the delicious sense of relief from anxiety on the score of
providing for the daily meals. I seemed to see in the darkness, in
illuminated letters, "Jehovah _Jireh_," and felt He had abundantly
verified his blessed promise.[B]

In due time the days grew longer and warmer; the snow melted. Large
flocks of wild geese passing northward over our heads assured us, with
their unmusical but most welcome notes, that the long winter of '56
and '57 was over and gone. The ground was broken up, crops were
planted, and everything gave promise of a favorable season. Our home,
in its lovely, fresh robes of green, was enchanting, and we felt that
the lines had indeed fallen unto us in pleasant places. But as we take
pleasant walks through our happy valley, what means this unusual sound
that arrests our footsteps? It is like the pattering of gentle summer
rain, and yet the sky is clear and cloudless; no drops fall. What can
it be? Ah! see that moving in the grass! We stoop to examine, and find
myriads of strange-looking insects hardly larger than fleas. They must
be--yes, they are, _young grasshoppers_. And now may God help us! for
we are powerless to arrest their depredations. Day by day they grew
and increased, until they covered everything; fields of wheat which
promised a bountiful harvest were eaten up so completely that not a
green blade or leaf was left; gardens were entirely demolished;
screens of cloth put over hot-beds for protection were eaten as
greedily as the plants themselves, and the rapidity with which they
did their destructive work was amazing. So faded away all our hopes of
raising anything available that year, and we watched and waited. But
one bright June morning there was a movement and an unusual sound. We
rushed to see the cause, and beheld our dire enemy rising in masses,
like a great army with banners! They passed over us, making our home
for a time the "land shadowing with wings," and finally disappeared in
the south. With lightened hearts and willing hands we went to work,
replanted some things, and labored thankfully, hopefully and
successfully to provide for the next winter.

The experience of the past had taught us much. We felt our hearts
stronger and richer for its lessons, and we all look back on that
memorable time as something we would not willingly have missed out of
our lives, for we learned that one may be reduced to great straits,
may have few or no external comforts, and yet be very happy, with that
satisfying, independent happiness which outward circumstances cannot
affect.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote B: Soon after this great deliverance, the Blackfoot Indians
who belonged to our little colony became discontented and homesick for
their hunting grounds among the Rocky Mountains, and made their
preparations for an exodus so secretly that we were taken entirely by
surprise when one evening they were all missing. They had taken their
women and children and as much of their stuff as they could carry on
two or three horses, and turned their backs upon us, permanently, as
they supposed. Immediately our oldest son started in pursuit, and we
watched him with a field-glass as long as we could see, and then by
the lights he struck from time to time, as he went farther and farther
away, to enable him to see their tracks or the votive offerings to the
sun which they had placed on the shrubs and bushes by the wayside as
they journeyed westward. At the close of the second day he found them
encamped near a stream making snow-shoes, and so uncertain as to their
route to the home they loved and pined for, as to be somewhat
disheartened. A few persuasive words from the lad, who understood
their ways thoroughly, with a promise that they should return to their
mountains when the warm weather came, prevailed, and they came back to
the Prairie somewhat subdued and not a little chagrined at their
failure.]

_CHAPTER XVIII._

MALCOLM CLARK.

A few years ago, Colonel Wilbur F. Sanders, President of the
Historical Society of Montana, justly claiming my brother as one of
the earliest pioneers of Montana Territory, requested me to furnish
the society with a sketch of his life, feeling that without it, the
records would be incomplete.

His career was peculiar, and in order that those who come after us may
have a correct account of it, I insert here the substance of the
sketch prepared at the request of Colonel Sanders:

My brother Malcolm Clark was the oldest child of our parents and their
only son. He was born July 22d, 1817, at Fort Wayne, Indiana. When he
was two years old our home was at Fort Snelling, where we remained for
eight years. He was a handsome, bright-eyed, brave and venturesome
boy, and soon began to develop a very decided taste for field sports
of all kinds, becoming a ready pupil and prime favorite of Captain
Martin Scott, widely known as the veritable Nimrod of those days. He
was constantly running risks even in his plays, and had some
miraculous escapes. But his fortitude and endurance of pain were very
remarkable, and his great ambition was to bear himself under all
circumstances like a true soldier.

One of my earliest recollections of him is seeing him mounted on his
beautiful pony, riding without saddle or bridle, his arms extended,
his eyes flashing, and his soft brown hair waving in the wind. This
early training in daring horsemanship made him, as all who knew him
can testify, a perfect rider. He was very quick to resent anything
that looked like an imposition, or an infringement of his rights, it
mattered not who was the aggressor. On one occasion, during the
temporary absence of the Surgeon, he fell and cut his mouth so badly
that it was feared the injury might be very serious.

Colonel Snelling, who had some knowledge of surgery, volunteered to
repair the damaged feature, but when he attempted to use the needle,
Malcolm, who felt he was not duly authorized, refused to let him touch
it, shaking his tiny fist in his face, by way of menace. The Colonel
laughingly retreated, and recommended sticking-plaster, which answered
an admirable purpose.

A few years later I assisted the Surgeon in dressing a wound which
Malcolm had accidentally inflicted on his own arm with a knife, and,
although the operation of probing and cleansing it was perfect
torture, he submitted to it patiently and without a sound of
complaint.

He was a loving, affectionate boy, full of real chivalry and true
nobility. Being next in age, I was his constant companion, and his
kind, loving consideration of me is deeply impressed upon me. When for
some years Cincinnati was our home, he attended a classical school in
that city, taught by Alexander Kinmont, a Scotchman, somewhat
celebrated as an educator of boys, and by his high sense of honor and
his engaging manners he endeared himself to his teacher and fellow
pupils. He had a real reverence for his female associates; indeed, his
ideas of womanhood, in general, were very exalted. He guarded me most
sacredly from anything which might offend my sense of delicacy, and
was ready to do battle with any one who spoke slightingly of a lady.

At one time a young school-mate made some improper remarks concerning
a young girl acquaintance of Malcolm's, who bade him take back his
words. On his refusing to do this, my brother seized the fellow, who
was larger and stouter than he, and gave him a pretty severe
punishment, receiving himself, however, a bad cut on his head from
falling on a sharp stone. But neither the pain of his wound nor the
rebukes of his friends could make him feel that he had done anything
more than justice, and he bore his sufferings with the spirit of a
knight who had been wounded in defense of his "faire ladye." While at
school he manifested a marked talent for public speaking, and took the
highest rank in elocution in the Kinmont Academy, and I think that all
through his life this gift of eloquence gave him a power over those
with whom he mingled. I recall distinctly my sisterly pride in him
when at an exhibition he delivered that wonderful speech of Marc
Antony over the dead body of Caesar; and when the terrible news of his
tragical death reached me, I seemed to hear again the infinite pathos
of his voice in the words, "And thou, Brutus!" The man who
treacherously took his precious life had been to him as a son, had
shared his home, and received from him nothing but favors. Well might
he have exclaimed, "And thou, Ne-tus-cho!" as e'en under the
protecting shadow of his own home the brave man fell, pierced by the
deadly ball. At seventeen he was entered at West Point, where, owing
to his early military associations and training, he stood well as a
capable, well-drilled soldier, and was soon put in command of a
company. In this capacity he acquitted himself in such a way as to win
the approval of his superior officers and the confidence of his fellow
Cadets.

But one of his company, who had been derelict in duty and had been
reported accordingly, accused him of making a false report, and this
in those days was an accusation not to be borne. Consequently my
impetuous brother, with a mistaken sense of honor, fostered by the
teachings and usages of fifty years ago, sent the young man a
challenge. Instead of accepting or declining it, he took it to the
Commandant, thus placing himself in a most unfavorable light.

The next morning at breakfast roll-call my brother stepped out before
his company, and, seizing his adversary by the collar, administered to
him a severe flogging with a cowhide. This, of course, was a case
that called for a court-martial, the result of which was my brother's
dismissal, the sentence, however, recommending him to mercy. It was
intimated to him by some high in authority that by making proper
concessions he would be reinstated. This he would not do, and took the
consequences.

In the light of the great improvement in public sentiment with regard
to such matters, the young man's course must be condemned, but great
allowance must be made for the code of honor in force at that time,
and nowhere so strenuously insisted on, as in military circles.
Several duels had been fought between the officers at Fort Snelling
while that was our home, and Malcolm had heard with delight and awe of
the prowess of his hero, Captain Scott, who, as already narrated in
these records, had soon after his appointment in the regular army
given a final quietus to a young West Point officer who had snubbed
and insulted the Green Mountain boy, whose career opened in a
volunteer regiment in the war of 1812, instead of at the Military
Academy. These influences account for, and in a great measure excuse
my rash brother's conduct in this affair. We deeply deplored this
event, which changed the whole tenor of his life; and yet, there lies
on my table as I write, his defense before the military tribunal, and
I confess to a thrill of pride as I read the manly, fearless, yet
thoroughly respectful and courteous document, and I feel very sure
that a most efficient, high-minded officer was lost to the service,
when my brave, true brother suffered the penalty of a boyish folly.

Soon after this he started for Texas to join the desperate men there
in their struggle for independence.

During his journey to the "Lone Star" State a characteristic incident
occurred which may be worthy of mention. On the voyage from New
Orleans to Galveston, the Captain of the ship refused to keep his
agreement with his passengers in regard to furnishing ice and other
absolute necessaries, thus endangering their health and making their
situation thoroughly unendurable. After unsuccessful efforts to bring
the Captain to reason, my brother took command himself, placed the
Captain, heavily ironed, in close confinement, and thus landed in
Galveston. Then he released his prisoner, and repaired immediately to
General Sam Houston's quarters to give himself up for mutiny on the
high seas. His story had preceded him, and, on presenting himself, the
President exclaimed: "What! is this beardless boy the desperate
mutineer of whom you have been telling me?" And, after inquiring into
the affair, feeling thoroughly convinced that, according to the laws
of self-defense, my brother's conduct was justifiable, dismissed him,
with some very complimentary remarks on his courageous behavior. The
young hero was loudly cheered by the populace, and borne on their
shoulders in triumph to his hotel.

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