\'Three Score Years and Ten\'

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

He soon after received a commission in the Texan army, where he
served faithfully till the war was ended, and then returned to
Cincinnati, at that time our widowed mother's home.

While in the Southwest, he was one day riding entirely alone through a
wilderness, in some part of Texas, I think, when he saw in the
distance, riding directly towards him, his old West Point antagonist,
who had so far lost caste at that institution as to be obliged to
resign about the time of my brother's dismissal. He had learned that
Malcolm was in the country, whither he also had drifted, and had
threatened to take his life, if ever he crossed his path. My brother,
knowing of this threat, of course, concluded that when he met his
enemy there would be a deadly encounter. Both were heavily armed;
Malcolm had two pistols, but had discharged one at a prairie hen a
short time before, and had forgotten which one was still loaded. It
would not do to make investigations in the very face of his foe; so
with his hand on one of them, and his keen eye firmly fixed on the
man, he rode on, determined not to give one inch of the road. Thus
they approached each other, neither yielding; my brother's steady gaze
never relaxing, till just as their mules almost touched one another,
his enemy gave the road, and Malcolm went on, feeling that very
probably his foe would shoot him from behind, but never looking back,
till, by a turn in the road, he knew he was out of sight, when he drew
a long breath, and felt that he had been in a pretty tight place. The
next news he had of his adversary was, that he had been killed in a
drunken row in some town in Texas.

Failing to find in Cincinnati, business congenial to his taste, my
brother obtained, through our father's life-long friend, Captain John
Culbertson, an appointment in the American Fur Company, and went to
one of their stations on the Upper Missouri. At this time he was just
twenty-four years old; at the time of his death he was fifty-two, so
that more than half his life was spent in the Indian country. The
story of his life in the Far West is full of incident. Soon after his
arrival in the Blackfoot country he won the name of Ne-so-ke-i-u (the
Four Bears), by killing four Grizzlies one morning before breakfast,
which remarkable feat gave him high rank in the estimation of the
tribe. How he traded successfully among these Indians, in all cases
studying their best interests; how he came to be looked upon as a
great and powerful chief; how he identified himself with them by
marrying among them; how, by his deeds of daring, his many miraculous
escapes, his rare prowess and skill, and his wonderful personal
influence over them, he obtained the dignity of a "_Medicine Man_," in
whom they professed implicit faith and confidence, are facts well
known to all who knew him.

And, how, when the eager, grasping whites encroached upon their
territory, seeing before them the fate that had befallen all the other
tribes among whom white settlements had been opened up, these Indians
feared that this man, whose hair had whitened among them, would take
part with his own people against them, and made a foul conspiracy
against his life, treacherously stilling the heart that had beat with
kindness and affection for them, are grievous facts in the history of
his beloved Montana, on which I need not and cannot dwell.

In sketching the record of this life from early childhood to its
tragic ending, I seem to see again before me my beautiful, bright-eyed
brother, a boy of whom I was very proud, and who was, to me, the
embodiment of everything brave, and manly, and true. I follow him in
his eventful life, and while I realize that his impetuosity sometimes
led him to do things which were not wise, and which he afterwards
regretted, yet above all these errors and mistakes, rises the memory
of his unswerving integrity; his fidelity to his friends; his high
sense of honor, between man and man; his almost womanly tenderness
towards those whom he loved; his rare culture and refinement; his
affable, genial and courteous manners; his hospitality and
large-heartedness,--all entitling him richly, to

"Bear without abuse,
The grand old name of gentleman."

_CHAPTER XIX._

Long Prairie was our home for five years which though not unmixed with
trial and sorrow, were happy years. Some few neighbors settled in and
around the Prairie, and the visits of lumbering and surveying parties,
passing to and fro, made a pleasant variety in our simple life. We
were directly on the route over which the Indians, both Sioux and
Chippewas travelled as they went for game or scalps; but they behaved
themselves circumspectly, except when bad white men crept into the
settlement and made them crazy with "fire water." This infamous
traffic we resisted to the extent of our power, and on one occasion
blood was drawn on both sides, but no lives were lost. We always
treated the Indians well, dealing fairly with them as with white men,
and they looked upon us as their friends. At one time, however, rumors
of danger warned us to take measures to insure our safety; and we
applied to Floyd, then Secretary of War, for military protection, the
result of which step was, that some soldiers were quartered at the
Prairie for the winter of '58 and '59, and we dismissed our fears.
Captain Frederick Steele and Lieutenant Joseph Conrad were the
officers in command of the detachment, and proved most agreeable
neighbors, making our winter very enjoyable. The former of these, our
friends, was a General during the war of the Rebellion, and lost his
life in the service; the latter, now a Major, is still doing good
service as a gallant and efficient soldier.

The next winter we had the protection of Lieutenant Latimer and his
company from Fort Ridgley, a most genial and whole-souled Southern
gentleman, who endeared himself to us by his frank kindly manners.
Gen. Irwin McDowell, inspecting officer, made us a charming visit
during this winter, and by his kindly, unassuming manner, won all
hearts, while his splendid form and manly beauty made an impression on
us never to be effaced. He survived the war, but died in the prime of
life, sincerely mourned by a large circle of friends and fellow
soldiers.

Possibly we might have spent our lives at Long Prairie, but for the
bombardment of Fort Sumter, on the eventful 12th of April, 1861, whose
vibrations thrilled the whole North, and reaching us in our pastoral
home, changed entirely our plans and purposes. When our youngest boy
was twenty-four hours old, his father went to St. Paul, in obedience
to a summons from Governor Ramsey, and was soon after commissioned
Colonel of the "2d" Regiment of Minnesota Volunteers, which was
rendezvoused at Fort Snelling for thorough organization and drill. As
soon as possible his family joined him there, and, once again my
temporary home was in the old Headquarters, and in memory I live my
childhood over again. The few weeks spent there were full of
excitement and pleasant incidents, but over all, hung the dark shadow
of the dreadful civil war, and hearts ached sorely, in spite of the
brave talk and smiling faces. Writing of those days I recall a picture
of the parade ground at the time of the sunset drum: the men are
placed by companies, the officers in proper position; many visitors,
ladies and gentlemen, stand near; the drum beats, the flag is lowered;
and, as the Chaplain steps forward, every head is uncovered, and he
offers the evening prayer to the God of battles. I am glad they
prayed; did they think of this when they gained the victory in that
first, fierce battle at Mill Spring? And there are those living, who
will recall that sad parting hour, when those brave men said,
"Good-bye, and God bless you," to their mothers, wives and children,
and went forth with tearful eyes, and quivering lips to hazard their
lives for their country. It was a holy cause, and the women, too, were
brave, and would not hold them back, but entered willingly upon that
sad, weary time, when tears were shed till the fountains were dry;
when prayers and groanings that could not be uttered, arose to heaven
by day and by night, alike from luxurious homes, and from humble
cottages, for the safety of the beloved ones, and the success of the
sacred cause. The children felt it, too. A little curly-headed seven
year old boy, whose father was at the front, waking one night from
troubled sleep, stole softly to his mother's bedside, and kissing her
tenderly, said, in a voice broken with sobs: "Mother, did you pray
for father to-night?" She replied: "Yes, my son, mother never forgets
that." "But, mother, are you sure?" "Yes, dear one." "Well, mother,
won't you kneel down here by me, and pray for him again?" and side by
side, the two knelt humbly, the mother with her arms about the sobbing
boy, while she prayed most earnestly for the precious one far away.
Then, the dear child ceased his weeping, and kissing "mother" for
herself and "father," lay down to sleep again, saying: "Mother, I
don't think God will let the Southerners kill father." And thus it was
all over the North. Mothers and children weeping and praying, and
working, to keep the home bright and comfortable for the soldier when
he should come back. And many fair, smooth faces, grew pale and seamed
with care and anxiety, many brown heads turned to gray, and erect
forms became bent as with years; and, alas! many hearts broke when the
list of "dead and wounded" reached the Northern homes. Oh! history
makes record of the heroes who fell fighting bravely, and of those who
survived; of great deeds of daring done and suffering endured; but
there _were_ heroes who won no stars, who received no ovations, whose
histories were never written, and who none the less were martyrs to
their country.

"But men must work,
And women must weep;
Though storms be sudden and waters deep;
And the harbor-bar be moaning."

But God gave us the victory and our beloved country, aye, the whole
world has made a forward move because of our heart-breaking, agonizing
Civil War.

_CHAPTER XX._

After the breaking up at Long Prairie, a few months were spent by our
family in St. Paul, but in the early spring it seemed expedient to
remove to "St Anthony," which has ever since been our home. It was at
that time a very quiet village; very many of the young and vigorous
men were at the front, and business was at a standstill; property was
very cheap, and real estate men had little or nothing to do.
Minneapolis, on the west side of the river, was a small town, and had
any one predicted at that time that the city of Minneapolis would one
day become what it is now, he would have been regarded as a lunatic.
The Indian outbreak of '62 stirred things up for a while, but that
passed away, and the place resumed its sleepy condition, waking up now
and then at the news of a victory, or on the occasion of the return of
a regiment, to whom an ovation was tendered, when it became manifest
that there was a great deal of energy and power latent in the
community, which only needed an occasion to bring it out. But the
immense water power kept up its music, the mills ground flour and
sawed logs and made paper, and, all unconsciously, we were growing
great and preparing to become the wonder of the world. When the old
settlers get together now-a-days, we like to talk of those pleasant,
quiet times, when a ride in a stage to St. Paul was a treat, and a
trip to Minnetonka in a double wagon, with provisions and camp
fixtures for a week's picnic, was delightful; when we caught fish in
Lake Harriet and cooked it at our camp-fire, and had a most enjoyable
time rowing on the lake, gathering pond lilies, singing songs, telling
stories, and taking in with every breath the delicious, invigorating
air of that most charming spot.

And while rejoicing at the present state of things, so far in advance
of those times, we sometimes look back regretfully at the days when we
seemed like one large family, with common interests, and we
involuntarily breathe a sigh for those simple, primitive pleasures,
that will be ours nevermore.

No need for me to describe in these humble records the phenomenal
growth of Minneapolis; it is known and read of all men, and the world
is startled at its rapid transition from a somewhat obscure
manufacturing town to a great and prosperous city, whose foundations
are so solid, and whose possibilities so great, that there seems no
limit to its progress. We who have watched it from infancy are justly
proud of our city, and it is certainly cause for congratulation that
so much time and thought and money are given to establishing and
fostering benevolent institutions and charities of all kinds. The
people are large-hearted and ready to take hold of anything which has
for its object the good of the community or the amelioration of
suffering in any form. Witness our "Home for Children and Aged Women;"
the beautiful "Washburn Home for Orphans;" the "Northwestern
Hospital," built by and under the care and management of women who
have been generously aided by the community in carrying on their work;
the "Bethany Home" for fallen, outcast women and deserted babies, a
work established by women in weakness and under discouraging
circumstances, but now carried on in a commodious building erected by
one man who has lived many years in our city and has grown rich here.
He has watched our work in this line for years, and his heart was
moved to donate to the management of the "Home" the beautiful,
convenient house and grounds on Bryant avenue, which shelters sad and
broken-hearted women and tender, helpless infants, and stands out
clear against the beautiful background of woodland and blue sky, an
enduring monument to his large-hearted generosity and his tender pity
for the weak and helpless. May God bless him and deal graciously with
him and all he loves. These are only a few of the various branches of
work for the good of humanity, generously encouraged by our citizens,
and the liberality with which societies, conventions and gatherings of
all kinds are welcomed and entertained by Minneapolitans astonishes
all who see, read or hear of it. Those who saw the great Villard
procession and the meeting of the Grand Army of the Republic can
never forget them, and religious bodies of all sects and kinds who
have been received and cared for here, are loud in their praises of
their hospitable entertainers.

But better than all this is the earnest desire that we should become
good, as well as great, as manifested in the numerous active societies
organized for the purpose of overcoming and suppressing the evils
incident to large and prosperous cities; and the eloquent, earnest men
of all religious denominations who labor faithfully as preachers and
pastors for the highest good of the people are doing grand, efficient
work towards the accomplishment of this desire.

And side by side with us, a little way down the river, is our
beautiful twin sister, the city of St. Paul, to which by the power of
mutual attraction we are growing nearer day by day. The healthy
rivalry which has existed between us since we began to grow has
benefited both cities, and we now stand before the world phenomenal in
growth, each year lengthening our cords and strengthening our stakes,
with the sure prospect of becoming, in the near future, a mighty
metropolis of the great and powerful Northwest.

The tender friendships formed there by our family during the early
days of the war grow stronger and more binding each year, and will
last through eternity; our children will tell to their children of the
kindness rendered by dear ones in St. Paul to "father and mother"
when they were in sore need of loving sympathy, and this legacy of
love will be very precious to them. I love to visit this neighboring
city, not only because of the warm friendships existing between us,
but because that in some indescribable way it seems to have an army
atmosphere which makes me feel entirely at home. And sometimes, when,
in passing through its streets, I come upon our old, staunch friend,
General R. W. Johnson, the thoughts of Fort Snelling, where, years
after it ceased to be my home, he won the beautiful Miss Steele for
his bride, stir my heart with pleasant memories, and looking at him
now, a handsome, white-haired man, still erect and vigorous, I feel
that time has dealt very generously with him, and rejoice that after
his many years of faithful service to his country he is still doing
his duty, and is most happily situated in every respect. And there is
General Bishop, one of my husband's "boys" of the brave Minnesota
Second, the very sight of whose kindly face brings up thoughts of Mill
Spring and other battle fields on which he won his "eagle" and his
"star," and it gladdens my heart to feel that he, too, still in his
prime, is as brave and faithful a civilian as he was a soldier, and
that he has a beautiful, hospitable home, which is a rallying point
for the survivors of the old regiment, which he loved so well and
commanded so successfully. And there are many other military men
there, whom it is an honor to know, and who, with the energy which
made them successful soldiers, are working earnestly for the good of
St. Paul, where they have made their homes.

When the beautiful Edith, searching the field after the bloody battle
of Hastings, found the body of her beloved, the last of the Saxon
Kings, she saw right over his heart, as she wiped the blood from his
wounded side, two words graven thereon: "Edith," and beneath it
"England." So on my heart, among my precious things, stands
"Minneapolis," and just beneath it "St. Paul." God bless them both and
make them truly good, as well as eminently great.

_CHAPTER XXI._

Looking over the quarter of a century that we have lived quietly and
happily in our Minneapolis home, I recall some very pleasant
satisfying incidents, notably a visit made by my husband and myself to
the lovely home of our only daughter in Honolulu, the capital of the
Hawaiian Kingdom. We were both enfeebled by sickness and He who has
been so gracious to us all our lives, knowing we had need of such a
change, provided for it in an unexpected way. We left our home early
in December, 1878 under the care of our son-in-law and daughter, and,
journeying in the comfortable Pullman cars, took in the wonders and
beauties, so often described, of the overland route to San Francisco.

It is needless for me to tell you of these wonders. Many travelers
have so descanted upon them as to make them familiar to all, and yet
no words can ever do them justice; they must be seen to be
comprehended. Comprehended did I say? Ah! that can never be; they
overwhelm and fill us with awe, make us very quiet, and incline our
hearts to silent worship of Him whose "works are manifold, and who, in
wisdom, hath made them all." As this magnificence unrolls before us
like a grand panorama, the deep, dark, rocky canons; the high,
snow-capped mountains, sometimes blue and far away like a wondrous
picture, with a back ground of clear cloudless sky; the immense
plains, with no signs of life, broken here and there by gigantic rocks
of most weird fantastic shapes; the picturesque villages, with their
church spires, distinct and well-defined against the high overhanging
mountains, all combine to carry us out of ourselves, and to make us
not only wonder and adore the wisdom of God, but admire the skill and
energy of man, which, by God's help, has opened up these grand
pictures, and enabled us to see and enjoy them.

Very early on the morning of our last day's ride, we rounded "Cape
Horn," and halted, as is the custom, for all to have a sight of that
masterpiece of the Great Architect. The mist still lay in the deep
gorge and on the mountain sides, and all was perfect unbroken silence.
Without a word we gazed enraptured on the glorious scene, and waited,
as if expectant of some royal presence, to fill this magnificent
throne of God's own building. And as we look, behold the heralds! And
now the King of Day himself, in his chariot of flame, comes forth over
the mountain-top, "as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and
rejoicing as a strong man to run a race." At his presence, the mists
roll away; the mountain sides appear in all their rugged beauty; the
American River, like a silver thread, down deep in the mighty gorge,
smiles brightly at the coming of the king, and accepting graciously
its appointed task, "goes on and on forever."

That day's ride was the perfection of enjoyment, full of wonder and
beauty, and just as we reached the terminus, the great monarch whose
rays had illumined our path all the way, sank gloriously to rest in
the "Golden Gate," rendering our first view of the mighty ocean
unspeakably grand.

After spending ten days very pleasantly and satisfactorily in the
great metropolis of the Pacific coast, our party of four embarked on
the United States mail steamship, "City of Sydney," for the beautiful
Hawaiian Islands, two thousand miles away, in the midst of the sea,
which we reached in the remarkably short time of a little less than
seven days, having made the quickest trip on record. Our voyage was
most prosperous, and, with the exception of two days of rough weather
at the outset, very pleasant. The ship is a fine one, all its
appointments being everything that could be desired. The company was
intelligent and agreeable. Our party was happy in the anticipation of
seeing dear ones in Honolulu, and in the near realization of what had
been, to some of us, a beautiful dream for years. And were we
disappointed? Oh, no! No picture of our imagination had ever been so
bright, so beautiful as that spread out before us, as our gallant ship
sailed majestically through the coral reef into the beautiful harbor
of Honolulu. It was like entering a new world; everything was bright
with tropical splendor. The mountains, in whose hearts had slumbered
volcanic fires, which, from time to time, had burst forth, lighting up
the great ocean with Tartarean brilliancy, and scattering red-hot lava
far and wide, now stood up in sublime composure, like ramparts of
protection to the lovely island formed by the upheaval.

The tall cocoa-nut palms, crowned with their feathery tufts; the rich
foliage of the various trees; the gorgeous blossoms; the picturesque,
gaily-dressed natives in their arrowy canoes, with luscious fruits, or
specimens of coral, shells, and other treasures of the deep; the
innumerable little bronze figures darting in and out of the water for
bits of coin thrown to them from the deck; and, above all, the dear
ones, with happy faces and eager, outstretched hands, awaiting, with
loving impatience, the moment of our landing, formed a tableau, which,
illumined by the soft, glowing, dreamy atmosphere, made a photograph
in my memory which time nor distance can ever efface. Our ride through
the city, up the Nu-u-an-u valley, was one continued surprise and
wonder, a bright vision, from which we surely must awaken to sober
reality.

We knew that, by the almanac, it was the last day but one of the old
year, midwinter, a time of frost and snow, and surely these brilliant
oleanders, these great scarlet geraniums, these bright hedges of the
many-colored Lantana were but a fairy scene which might vanish any
moment and leave the trees bare and the flowers withered. But when we
entered the charming grounds about our children's home, where we were
to spend some months, resting and gaining health and vigor, we were
fain to believe that it was all real, and that we should sit day after
day on the broad veranda, and look at the royal palms, the graceful
algeroba, the wide-spreading umbrella trees, the truly regal
bougainvillia, with its wealth of purple blossoms, the Mexican vine,
covered with rose-colored sprays, the soft velvet turf, and the
exquisite ferns, and we thanked God that he had brought us, safely and
happily, to so beautiful a haven. Everything about us was so charming
a suggestion of Paradise, that even now, after the lapse of many
years, the memory of the six months spent in that gem of the Pacific,
comes to us freighted with a sense of sweetness and peace that savors
of the rest of Heaven.

The society of Honolulu, representing many different nationalities, is
exceptionally intelligent and cultivated. The climate is simply
perfect, the mercury ranging from 60 deg. to 80 deg. the year round; delicious
fruits, lovely flowers and spice bearing shrubs abound. The soil is
very fertile and favorable to the production of the best of sugar
cane, a high grade of coffee and excellent rice, which are the staple
productions and a source of great profit to the islands. A most
nutritious and satisfying vegetable universally cultivated there, is
the Taro, which is to the native Hawaiian what the potato is to the
Irishman. Poverty is unknown there, every one has a competence, some
are wealthy. Education is compulsory, churches and school houses are
numerous, and in every way adequate to the needs of the community. The
reigning King, Kalakaua, is not as wise and strong as Solomon, and for
many years has been in the hands of an intriguing Cabinet, which has
been a source of anxiety to those who love the little kingdom, and
desire to see it prosper, but it is very gratifying to be able to
state, that the evils so much dreaded have been entirely averted, and
the government placed in a better condition than it has enjoyed for
many years. This was brought about in a proper and orderly way, by the
decisive action of the law-abiding citizens, who have formed an
entirely new Cabinet, altered for the better the Constitution, and
established a limited monarchy. This change took place only a few
months ago, and already its beneficial effects are clearly manifest.
The prospects for the islands were never better, and it is sincerely
to be hoped by all who wish well to the human race that Hawaii-nei may
long continue to prosper in every way, and to send light and gladness
to the peoples of the insular countries which are scattered like
lovely gems all over the beautiful blue ocean.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10