Wau-bun
by
Juliette Augusta Magill Kinzie
Part 7 out of 7
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONCLUSION.
What we had long anticipated of the sufferings of the Indians began to
manifest itself as the spring drew on. Its extent was first brought to
our knowledge by those who came in little parties begging for food.
As long as it was possible to issue occasional rations their Father
continued to do so, but the supplies in the Commissary Department were
now so much reduced that Colonel Cutler did not feel justified in
authorizing anything beyond a scanty relief, and this only in extreme
cases.
We had ourselves throughout the winter used the greatest economy with
our own stores, that we might not exhaust our slender stock of flour and
meal before it could be replenished from "below." We had even purchased
some sour flour which had been condemned by the commissary, and had
contrived, by a plentiful use of saleratus and a due proportion of
potatoes, to make of it a very palatable kind of bread. But as we had
continued to give to party after party, when they would come to us to
represent their famishing condition, the time at length arrived when we
had nothing to give.
The half-breed families of the neighborhood, who had, like ourselves,
continued to share with the needy as long as their own stock lasted,
were now obliged, of necessity, to refuse further assistance. These
women often came to lament with us over the sad accounts that were
brought from the wintering grounds. It had been a very open winter. The
snow had scarcely been enough at any time to permit the Indians to track
the deer; in fact, all the game had been driven off by the troops and
war-parties scouring the country through the preceding summer.
We heard of their dying by companies from mere inanition, and lying
stretched in the road to the Portage, whither they were striving to drag
their exhausted frames. Soup made of the bark of the slippery elm, or
stewed acorns, were the only food that many had subsisted on for weeks.
We had for a long time received our own food by daily rations from the
garrison, for things had got to such a pass that there was no
possibility of obtaining a barrel of flour at a time. After our meals
were finished I always went into the pantry, and collecting carefully
every remaining particle of food set it aside, to be given to some of
the wretched applicants by whom we were constantly thronged.
One day as I was thus employed, a face appeared at the window with which
I had once been familiar. It was the pretty daughter of the elder
Day-kau-ray. She had formerly visited us often, watching with great
interest our employments--our sewing, our weeding and cultivating the
garden, or our reading. Of the latter, I had many times endeavored to
give her some idea, showing her the plates in the Family Bible, and
doing my best to explain them to her, but of late I had quite lost sight
of her. Now, how changed, how wan she looked! As I addressed her with my
ordinary phrase, "_Tshah-ko-zhah_?" (What is it?) she gave a sigh that
was almost a sob. She did not beg, but her countenance spoke volumes.
I took my dish and handed it to her, expecting to see her devour the
contents eagerly; but no--she took it, and, making signs that she would
soon return, walked away. When she brought it back, I was almost sure
she had not tasted a morsel herself.
* * * * *
Oh! the boats--the boats with the corn! Why did they not come? We both
wrote and sent to hasten them, but, alas! everything and everybody moved
so slowly in those unenterprising times! We could only feel sure that
they would come when they were ready, and not a moment before.
We were soon obliged to keep both doors and windows fast, to shut out
the sight of misery we could not relieve. If a door were opened for the
admission of a member of the family, some wretched mother would rush in,
grasp the hand of my infant, and, placing that of her famishing child
within it, tell us, pleadingly, that he was imploring "his little
brother" for food. The stoutest man could not have beheld with dry eyes
the heart-rending spectacle which often presented itself. It was in vain
that we screened the lower portion of our windows with curtains. They
would climb up on the outside, and tier upon tier of gaunt, wretched
faces would peer in above, to watch us, and see if indeed we were as ill
provided as we represented ourselves.
The noble old Day-kau-ray came one day, from the Barribault, to apprise
us of the state of his village. More than forty of his people, he said,
had now been for many days without food, save bark and roots. My husband
accompanied him to the commanding officer to tell his story and
ascertain if any amount of food could be obtained from that quarter. The
result was, the promise of a small allowance of flour, sufficient to
alleviate the cravings of his own family.
When this was explained to the chief, he turned away. "No," he said,
"if his people could not be relieved, he and his family would starve
with them!" And he refused, for those nearest and dearest to him, the
proffered succor, until all could share alike.
The announcement, at length, that "the boats were in sight," was a
thrilling and most joyful sound.
Hundreds of poor creatures were assembled on the bank, watching their
arrival. Oh! how torturing was their slow approach, by the winding
course of the river, through the extended prairie! As the first boat
touched the land, we, who were gazing on the scene with anxiety and
impatience only equalled by that of the sufferers, could scarcely
refrain from laughing, to see old Wild-Cat, who had somewhat fallen off
in his huge amount of flesh, seize "the Washington Woman" in his arms
and hug and dance with her in the ecstasy of his delight.
Their Father made a sign to them all to fall to work with their
hatchets, which they had long held ready, and in an incredibly short
time barrel after barrel of corn was broken open and emptied, while even
the little children possessed themselves of pans and kettles full, and
hastened to the fires that were blazing around to parch and cook that
which they had seized.
From this time forward, there was no more destitution. The present
abundance was immediately followed by the arrival of supplies for the
Commissary's Department; and, refreshed and invigorated, our poor
children departed once more to their villages, to make ready their crops
for the ensuing season.
In the course of the spring, we received a visit from the Rev. Mr. Kent
and Mrs. Kent, of Galena. This event is memorable, as being the first
occasion on which the gospel, according to the Protestant faith, was
preached at Fort Winnebago. The large parlor of the hospital was fitted
up for the service, and gladly did we each say to the other, "Let us go
to the house of the Lord!"
For nearly three years had we lived here without the blessing of a
public service of praise and thanksgiving. We regarded this commencement
as an omen of better times, and our little "sewing-society" worked with
renewed industry, to raise a fund Which might be available hereafter in
securing the permanent services of a missionary.
* * * * *
Not long after this, on a fine spring morning, as we were seated at
breakfast, a party of Indians entered the parlor, and came to the door
of the room where we were. Two of them passed through, and went out upon
a small portico--the third remained standing in the door-way at which he
had at first appeared. He was nearly opposite me, and as I raised my
eyes, spite of his change of dress, and the paint with which he was
covered, I at once recognized him.
I continued to pour the coffee, and, as I did so, I remarked to my
husband, "The one behind you, with whom you are speaking, is one of the
escaped prisoners."
Without turning his head, Mr. Kinzie continued to listen to all the
directions they were giving him about the repairing of their guns,
traps, etc., which they wished to leave with the blacksmith. As they
went on, he carelessly turned towards the parlor door, and replied to
the one speaking to him. When he again addressed me, it was to say,--
"You are right, but it is no affair of ours. We are none of us to look
so as to give him notice that we suspect anything. They are undoubtedly
innocent, and have suffered enough already."
Contrary to his usual custom, their Father did not ask their names, but
wrote their directions, which he tied to their different implements, and
then bade them go and deliver them themselves to M. Morrin.
The rest of our circle were greatly pleased at the young fellow's
audacity, and we quite longed to tell the officers that we could have
caught one of their fugitives for them, if we had had a mind.
* * * * *
The time had now come when we began to think seriously of leaving our
pleasant home, and taking up our residence at Detroit, while making
arrangements for a permanent settlement at Chicago.
This intelligence, when communicated to our Winnebago children, brought
forth great lamentations and demonstrations of regret. From the
surrounding country they came flocking in, to inquire into the truth of
the tidings they had heard, and to petition earnestly that we would
continue to live and die among them.
Among them all, no one seemed so overwhelmed with affliction as
Elizabeth, our poor _Cut-Nose_. When we first told her of our intention,
she sat for hours in the same spot, wiping away the tears that would
find their way down her cheeks, with the corner of the chintz shawl she
wore pinned across her bosom.
"No! I never, never, never shall I find such friends again," she would
exclaim. "You will go away, and I shall be left here _all alone_."
Wild-Cat, too, the fat, jolly Wild-Cat, gave way to the most audible
lamentations.
"Oh, my little brother," he said to the baby, on the morning of our
departure, when he had insisted on taking him and seating him on his
fat, dirty knee, "you will never come back to see your poor brother
again!"
And having taken an extra glass on the occasion, he wept like an infant.
It was with sad hearts that on the morning of the 1st of July, 1888, we
bade adieu to the long cortege which followed us to the boat, now
waiting to convey us to Green Bay, where we were to meet Governor Porter
and Mr. Brush, and proceed, under their escort, to Detroit.
When they had completed their tender farewells, they turned to accompany
their father across the Portage, on his route to Chicago, and long
after, we could see them winding along the road, and hear their loud
lamentations at a parting which they foresaw would be forever.
APPENDIX.
I.
As I have given throughout the Narrative of the Sauk War the impressions
we received from our own observation, or from information furnished us
at the time, I think it but justice to Black Hawk and his party to
insert, by way of Appendix, the following account, preserved among the
manuscript records of the late Thomas Forsyth, Esq., of St. Louis, who,
after residing among the Indians many years as a trader, was, until the
year 1830, the Agent of the Sauks and Foxes. The manuscript was written
in 1832, while Black Hawk and his compatriots were in prison at
Jefferson Barracks.
"The United States troops under the command of Major Stoddard arrived
here[58] and took possession of this country in the month of February,
1804. In the spring of that year, a white person (a man or boy) was
killed in Cuivre Settlement, by a Sauk Indian Some time in the summer
following, a party of United States troops were sent up to the Sauk
village on Rocky Biver, and a demand made of the Sauk chiefs for the
murderer. The Sauk chiefs did not hesitate a moment, but delivered him
up to the commander of the troops, who brought him down and delivered
him over to the civil authority in this place (St. Louis).
"Some time in the ensuing autumn some Sauk and Fox Indians came to this
place, and had a conversation with General Harrison (then Governor of
Indiana Territory, and acting Governor of this State, then Territory of
Louisiana) on the subject of liberating their relative, then in prison
at this place for the above-mentioned murder.
"Quash-quame, a Sauk chief, who was the head man of this party, has
repeatedly said, 'Mr. Pierre Chouteau, Sen., came several times to my
camp, offering that if I would sell the lands on the east side of the
Mississippi River, Governor Harrison would liberate my relation (meaning
the Sauk Indian then in prison as above related), to which I at last
agreed, and sold the lands from the mouth of the Illinois River up the
Mississippi River as high as the mouth of Rocky River (now Rock River),
and east to the ridge that divides the waters of the Mississippi and
Illinois Rivers; but I never sold any more lands.' Quash-quame also said
to Governor Edwards, Governor Clarke, and Mr. Auguste Chouteau,
Commissioners appointed to treat with the Chippewas, Ottawas, and
Pottowattamies of Illinois River, in the summer of 1816, for lands on
the west side of Illinois River,--
"'You white men may put on paper what you please, but again I tell you,
I never sold any lands higher up the Mississippi than the mouth of Rocky
River.'
"In the treaty first mentioned, the line commences opposite to the mouth
of Gasconade River, and running in a direct line to the head-waters of
Jefferson[59] River, thence down that river to the Mississippi
River--thence up the Mississippi River to the mouth of the Ouisconsin
River--thence up that river thirty-six miles--thence in a direct line to
a little lake in Fox River of Illinois, down Fox River to Illinois
River, down Illinois River to its mouth--thence down the Mississippi
River to the mouth of Missouri River--thence up that river to the place
of beginning. See treaty dated at St. Louis, 4th November, 1804.
"The Sauk and Fox nations were never consulted, nor had any hand in this
treaty, nor knew anything about it. It was made and signed by two Sauk
chiefs, one Fox chief and one warrior.
"When the annuities were delivered to the Sauk and Fox nations of
Indians, according to the treaty above referred to (amounting to $1000
per annum), the Indians always thought they were presents (as the
annuity for the first twenty years was always paid in goods, sent on
from Georgetown, District of Columbia, and poor articles of merchandise
they were, very often damaged and not suitable for Indians), until I, as
their Agent, convinced them of the contrary, in the summer of 1818. When
the Indians heard that the goods delivered to them were annuities for
land sold by them to the United States, they were astonished, and
refused to accept of the goods, denying that they ever sold the lands as
stated by me, their Agent. The Black Hawk in particular, who was present
at the time, made a great noise about this land, and would never receive
any part of the annuities from that time forward. He always denied the
authority of Quash-quame and others to sell any part of their lands, and
told the Indians not to receive any presents or annuities from any
American--otherwise their lands would be claimed at some future day.
"As the United States do insist, and retain the lands according to the
treaty of November 4, 1804, why do they not fulfil _their_ part of that
treaty as equity demands?
"The Sauk and Fox nations are allowed, according to that treaty, 'to
live and hunt on the lands so ceded, as long as the aforesaid lands
belong to the United States.' In the spring of the year 1827, about
twelve or fifteen families of squatters arrived and took possession of
the Sauk village, near the mouth of the Rocky River. They immediately
commenced destroying the Indians' bark boats. Some were burned, others
were torn to pieces, and when the Indians arrived at the village, and
found fault with the destruction of their property, they were beaten and
abused by the squatters.
"The Indians made complaint to me, as their Agent. I wrote to General
Clarke,[60] stating to him from time to time what happened, and giving a
minute detail of everything that passed between the whites (squatters)
and the Indians.
"The squatters insisted that the Indians should be removed from their
village, saying that as soon as the land was brought into market they
(the squatters) would buy it all. It became needless for me to show them
the treaty, and the right the Indians had to remain on their lands. They
tried every method to annoy the Indians, by shooting their dogs,
claiming their horses, complaining that the Indians' horses broke into
their corn-fields--selling them whiskey for the most trifling articles,
contrary to the wishes and request of the chiefs, particularly the Black
Hawk, who both solicited and threatened them on the subject, but all to
no purpose.
"The President directed those lands to be sold at the Land Office, in
Springfield, Illinois. Accordingly, when the time came that they were to
be offered for sale (in the autumn of 1828), there were about twenty
families of squatters at, and in the vicinity of, the old Sauk village,
most of whom attended the sale, and but one of them could purchase a
quarter-section (if we except George Davenport, a trader who resides in
Rocky Island). Therefore, all the land not sold, still belonged to the
United States, and the Indians had still a right, by treaty, to hunt and
live on those lands. This right, however, was not allowed them--they
must move off.
"In 1830, the principal chiefs, and others of the Sauk and Fox Indians
who resided at the old village, near Rocky River, acquainted me that
they would remove to their village on Ihoway River. These chiefs advised
me to write to General Clarke, Superintendent of Indian Affairs at this
place (St. Louis), to send up a few militia--that the Black Hawk and his
followers would then see that everything was in earnest, and they would
remove to the west side of the Mississippi, to their own lands.
"The letter, as requested by the chiefs, was written and sent by me to
General Clarke, but he did not think proper to answer it--therefore
everything remained as formerly, and, as a matter of course, the Black
Hawk and his party thought the whole matter of removing from the old
village had blown over.
"In the spring of 1831, the Black Hawk and his party were augmented by
many Indians from Ihoway River. This augmentation of forces made the
Black Hawk very proud, and he supposed nothing would be done about
removing him and his party.
"General Gaines visited the Black Hawk and his party this season, with a
force of regulars and militia, and compelled them to remove to the west
side of the Mississippi River, on their own lands.
"When the Black Hawk and party recrossed to the east side of the
Mississippi River in 1832, they numbered three hundred and sixty-eight
men. They were hampered with many women and children, and had no
intention to make war. When attacked by General Stillman's detachment,
they defended themselves like men; and I would ask, who would not do
so, likewise? Thus the war commenced.
* * * * *
"The Indians had been defeated, dispersed, and some of the principal
chiefs are now in prison and in chains, at Jefferson Barracks....
"It is very well known, by all who know the Black Hawk, that he has
always been considered a friend to the whites. Often has he taken into
his lodge the wearied white man, given him good food to eat, and a good
blanket to sleep on before the fire. Many a good meal has _the Prophet_
given to people travelling past his village, and very many stray horses
has he recovered from the Indians and restored to their rightful owners,
without asking any recompense whatever....
"What right have we to tell any people, 'You shall not cross the
Mississippi River on any pretext whatever'? When the Sauk and Fox
Indians wish to cross the Mississippi, to visit their relations among
the Pottowattamies of Fox River, Illinois, they are prevented by us,
_because we have the power_!"
I omit the old gentleman's occasional comments upon the powers that
dictated, and the forces which carried on, the warfare of this unhappy
summer. There is every reason to believe that had his suggestions been
listened to, and had he continued the Agent of the Sauks and Foxes, a
sad record might have been spared,--we should assuredly not have been
called to chronicle the untimely fate of his successor, the unfortunate
M. St. Vrain, who, a comparative stranger to his people, was murdered by
them, in their exasperated fury, at Kellogg's Grove, soon after the
commencement of the campaign.
II.
It seems appropriate to notice in this place the subsequent appearance
before the public of one of the personages casually mentioned in the
foregoing narrative.
In the autumn of 1864 we saw advertised for exhibition at Wood's Museum,
Chicago, "The most remarkable instance of longevity on record--the
venerable Joseph Crely, born on the 13th of September, 1726, and having
consequently reached, at this date, the age of ONE HUNDRED AND
THIRTY-NINE YEARS!" Sundry particulars followed of his life and history,
and, above all, of his recollections.
"Well done for old Crely!" said my husband, when he had gone through the
long array. "Come, let us go over to Wood's Museum and renew our
acquaintance with the venerable gentleman."
I did not need a second invitation, for I was curious to witness the
wonders which the whirligig of time had wrought with our old _employe_.
We chose an early hour for our visit, that we might pay our respects to
both him and the granddaughter who had him in charge, unembarrassed by
the presence of strangers.
In a large room on the second floor of the building, among cages of
birds and animals, some stuffed, others still living, we perceived,
seated by a window, a figure clad in bright cashmere dressing-gown and
gay tasselled cap, tranquilly smoking a tah-nee-hoo-rah, or long Indian
pipe. His form was upright, his face florid, and less changed than might
have been expected by the thirty-one years that had elapsed since we had
last seen him. He was alone, and my husband addressed him at first in
English:--
"Good-morning, M. Crely. Do you remember me?"
He shook his head emphatically. "Je ne comprends pas. Je ne me
ressouviens de rien--je suis vieux, vieux--le treize Septembre, mil sept
cent vingt-six, je suis ne. Non, non," with a few gentle shakes of the
head, "je ne puis rappeler rien--je suis vieux, vieux."[61]
My husband changed his inquiries to the patois which Crely could not
feign not to comprehend.
"Where is your granddaughter? I am acquainted with her, and would like
to speak with her."
The old man sprang up with the greatest alacrity, and, running to a door
in the wooden partition which cut off a corner of the room and thus
furnished an apartment for the ancient phenomenon, he rapped vigorously,
and called, in accents quite unlike his former feeble, drawling tones,--
"Therese, Therese--il y a icite un monsieur qui voudrait vous voir."[62]
The granddaughter presently made her appearance. She looked shyly at my
husband from under her brows.
"Do you know me, Therese?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. It is Mr. Kinzie."
"And do you know me also?" I said, approaching. She looked at me and
shook her head.
"No, I do not," she replied.
"What, Therese! Have you forgotten Madame John, who taught you to
read--you and all the little girls at the Portage?"
"Oh, my heavens, Mrs. Kinzie!--but you have changed so!"
"Yes, Therese, I have grown old in all these years; but I have not grown
old quite so fast as your grandpapa here."
There was a flash in her eye that told she felt my meaning. She hung
her head without speaking, while the color deepened over her
countenance.
"Now," said I, in French, to the grandfather, "you remember me--"
He interrupted me with a protest, "Non, non--je ne puis rappeler
rien--je suis vieux, vieux--le treize Septembre, mil sept cent
vingt-six, je suis ne a Detroit."
"And you recollect," I went on, not heeding his formula, "how I came to
the Portage a bride, and lived in the old cabins that the soldiers had
occupied--"
"Eh b'an! oui--oui--"
"And how you helped make the garden for me--and how Plante and Manaigre
finished the new house so nicely while Monsieur John was away for the
silver--and how there was a feast after it was completed--"
"Ah! oui, oui--pour le sur."
"And where are all our people now?" I asked, turning to Therese. "Louis
Frum _dit_ Manaigre--is he living?"
"Oh, Madame Kinzie! You remember that--Manaigre having two names?"
"Yes, Therese--I remember everything connected with those old times at
the Portage. Who among our people there are living?"
"Only Manaigre is left," she said.
"Mais, mais, Therese," interposed the old man, "Manaigre's daughter
Genevieve is living." It was a comfort to find our visit of such
miraculous benefit to his memory.
"And the Puans--are any of them left?" I asked.
"Not more than ten or twelve, I think--" Again her grandfather promptly
contradicted her:--
"Mais, mais, je compte b'an qu'il y en a quinze ou seize, Therese;" and
he went quite glibly over the names of such of his red friends as still
hovered around their old home in that vicinity.
He was in the full tide of gay reminiscence, touching upon experiences
and adventures of long ago, and recalling Indian and half-breed
acquaintances of former days, when footsteps approached, and the
entrance of eager, curious visitors suddenly reminded him of his
appointed role. It was marvellous how instantaneously he subsided into
the superannuated driveller who was to bear away the bell from Old Parr
and all the Emperor Alexander's far-sought fossils.
"Je suis vieux, vieux--l'an mil sept cent vingt-six--le treize
Septembre, a Detroit--- je ne puis rappeler rien."
Not another phrase could "all the King's armies, or all the King's men,"
have extorted from him.
So we left him to the admiring comments of the new-comers. I think it
should be added, in extenuation of what would otherwise seem a gross
imposture, that his granddaughter was really ignorant of Crely's exact
age--that he, being ever a gasconading fellow, was quite ready to
personate that certain Joseph Crely whose name appears on the baptismal
records of the Church in Detroit of the year 1726. He was, moreover,
pleased with the idea of being gaily dressed and going on a tour to see
the world, and doubtless rejoiced, also, in the prospect of relieving
his poor granddaughter of a part of the burden of his maintenance. He
was probably at this time about ninety-five years of age. There are
those that knew him from 1830, who maintain that his age was a few years
less; but I take the estimate of Mr. Kinzie and H.L. Dousman, of Prairie
du Chien, who set him down, in 1864, at about the age I have assigned to
him.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Corn which has been parboiled, shelled from the cob, and
dried in the sun.]
[Footnote 2: Literally, _crazy oats_. It is the French name for the
Menomonees.]
[Footnote 3: _Le Forgeron_, or Blacksmith, a Menomonee chief.]
[Footnote 4: A niece of James Fenimore Cooper.]
[Footnote 5: Master--or, to use the emphatic Yankee term, _boss_.]
[Footnote 6: Michaud climbed into a plum-tree, to gather plums. The
branch broke. _Michaud fell_! Where is he? _He is down on the ground_.
No, he is up in the tree.]
[Footnote 7: The supposed Dauphin of France.]
[Footnote 8: The site of the town of Nee-nah.]
[Footnote 9: The bark of the red willow, scraped fine, which is
preferred by the Indians to tobacco.]
[Footnote 10: General Cass was then Governor of Michigan, and
Superintendent of the Northwestern Indians.]
[Footnote 11: In the year 1714.]
[Footnote 12: Father! How do you do?]
[Footnote 13: Only look! what inventions! what wonders!]
[Footnote 14: Between two of these lakes is now situated the town of
Madison--the capital of the State of Wisconsin.]
[Footnote 15: I speak, it will be understood, of things as they existed
a quarter of a century ago.]
[Footnote 16: It was at this spot that the unfortunate St. Vrain lost
his life, during the Sauk war, in 1832.]
[Footnote 17: Probably at what is now Oswego. The name of a portion of
the wood is since corrupted into _Specie's Grove_.]
[Footnote 18: The honey-bee is not known in the perfectly wild countries
of North America. It is ever the pioneer of civilization, and the
Indians call it "_the white man's bird_."]
[Footnote 19: It was near this spot that the brother of Mr. Hawley, a
Methodist preacher, was killed by the Sauks, in 1832, after having been
tortured by them with the most wanton barbarity.]
[Footnote 20: Riviere Aux Plaines was the original French designation,
now changed to _Desplaines_, pronounced as in English.]
[Footnote 21: 1855.]
[Footnote 22: See Frontispiece.]
[Footnote 23: Since called N. State Street (1870).]
[Footnote 24: I can recall a petition that was circulated at the
garrison about this period, for "building a brigg over Michigan City."
By altering the orthography, it was found to mean, not the stupendous
undertaking it would seem to imply, but simply "building a bridge" over
_at_ Michigan City,--an accommodation much needed by travellers at that
day.]
[Footnote 25: The proper orthography of this word is undoubtedly
_slough_, as it invariably indicates something like that which Christian
fell into in flying from the City of Destruction. I spell it, however,
as it is pronounced.]
[Footnote 26: A gentleman who visited Chicago at that day, thus speaks
of it: "I passed over the ground from the fort to the Point, on
horseback. I was up to my stirrups in water the whole distance. I would
not have given sixpence an acre for the whole of it."]
[Footnote 27: See Narrative of the Massacre, p. 159.]
[Footnote 28: Mr. Cat.]
[Footnote 29: This Narrative, first published in pamphlet form in 1836,
was transferred, with little variation, to Brown's "History of
Illinois," and to a work called "Western Annals." It was likewise made,
by Major Richardson, the basis of his two tales, "Hardscrabble," and
"Wau-nan-gee."]
[Footnote 30: Burns's house stood near the spot where the Agency
Building, or "Cobweb Castle," was afterwards erected, at the foot of N.
State Street.]
[Footnote 31: This is done by cutting the meat in thin slices, placing
it upon a scaffold, and making a fire under it, which dries it and
smokes it at the same time.]
[Footnote 32: A trading-establishment--now Ypsilanti.]
[Footnote 33: Captain Wells, when a boy, was stolen, by the Miami
Indians, from the family of Hon. Nathaniel Pope, in Kentucky. Although
recovered by them, he preferred to return and live among his new
friends. He married a Miami woman, and became a chief of the nation. He
was the father of the late Mrs. Judge Wolcott, of Maumee, Ohio.]
[Footnote 34: The spot now called Bertrand, then known as _Parc aux
Vaches,_ from its having been a favorite "stamping-ground" of the
buffalo which then abounded in the country.]
[Footnote 35: The exact spot of this encounter was about where 21st
Street crosses Indiana Avenue.]
[Footnote 36: Along the present State Street.]
[Footnote 37: Mrs. Holt is believed to be still living, in the State of
Ohio.]
[Footnote 38: Billy Caldwell was a half-breed, and a chief of the
nation. In his reply, "_I am a Sau-ga-nash_," or Englishman, he designed
to convey, "I am a _white_ man." Had he said, "_I am a Pottowattamie_,"
it would have been interpreted to mean, "I belong to my nation, and am
prepared to go all lengths with them."]
[Footnote 39: Frenchman.]
[Footnote 40: The Pottowattamie chief, so well known to many of the
citizens of Chicago, now (1870) residing at the Aux Plaines.]
[Footnote 41: Twenty-two years after this, as I was on a journey to
Chicago in the steamer Uncle Sam, a young woman, hearing my name,
introduced herself to me, and, raising the hair from her forehead,
showed me the mark of the tomahawk which had so nearly been fatal to
her.]
[Footnote 42: Although this is the name our mother preserved of her
benefactor, it seems evident that this chief was in fact _Corn-Planter_,
a personage well known in the history of the times. There could hardly
have been two such prominent chiefs in the same village.]
[Footnote 43: From the French--_Tranche_, a deep cut.]
[Footnote 44: It is a singular fact that all the martins, of which there
were great numbers occupying the little houses constructed for them by
the soldiers, were observed to have disappeared from their homes on the
morning following the embarkation of the troops. After an absence of
five days they returned. They had perhaps taken a fancy to accompany
their old friends, but, finding they were not Mother Carey's chickens,
deemed it most prudent to return and reoccupy their old dwellings.]
[Footnote 45: It is now known as Dunkley's Grove.]
[Footnote 46: How the woods talk!]
[Footnote 47: It will be remembered that these were the arguments used
at a period when the Indians possessed most of the broad lands on the
Upper Mississippi and its tributaries--when they were still allowed some
share of the blessings of life.]
[Footnote 48: The Indians, in relating a story like this, apologize for
alluding to a revolting subject. "You will think this _unpleasant_,"
they say.]
[Footnote 49: Come in, my daughter.]
[Footnote 50: The Indians sing these words to an air peculiar to
themselves.]
[Footnote 51: Three streams or water courses of that region.]
[Footnote 52: See Appendix.]
[Footnote 53: As "the venerable Joseph Crely" has become historic from
his claim to have reached the age of one hundred and thirty-nine years,
I will state that at this period (1832) he was a hale, hearty man of
sixty years or less.]
[Footnote 54: The Indians who had "been at Washington" were very fond of
calling their Father thus. Black Wolf's son would go further, and
vociferate "K'hizzie," to show his familiarity.]
[Footnote 55: Fisher's Hornpipe.]
[Footnote 56: General Atkinson.]
[Footnote 57: A belt of land termed the Neutral Ground of the different
opposing nations.]
[Footnote 58: St. Louis, Mo.]
[Footnote 59: There is no such river in this country, therefore this
treaty is null and void--of no effect in law or equity. Such was the
opinion of the late Governor Howard. (T.F.)]
[Footnote 60: Superintendent of Indian Affairs at St. Louis.]
[Footnote 61: I do not understand. I remember nothing. I am very, very
old--the thirteenth of September, 1726, I was born. No, no--I can
recollect nothing. I am old, old.]
[Footnote 62: Therese, there is a gentleman here who wishes to see you.]
Back to Full Books
|