D. R. HINDMAN
PARKVILLE, MO.
Printed by American Printing Co.
St. Joseph, Mo.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
No one, unless he has passed through the same experience, can realizemy felings [sic] under this sad bereavement. No relative nearer than twothousand miles; and not even an intimate friend near me, to whom I couldlook for comfort. The board I had to pay, for little more than shelter,was fifty dollars, and when it was done my purse was empty. I had dependedon my brother to decide every important matter that came up before us,but now, he was gone and I must use my own judgement and exercise my ownwill in every decision I was required to make. His Godly example had beento me a source of strength, but it came before me now only in memory. Nota line had been received from home to tell of the good or ill that hadcome to the loved ones. We had written to them frequently and all our letterswere received and answered, but from some cause the answers never reachedus. It was some two or three weeks before my health became normal, butduring that time I was able to render the only merchant in the valley someassistance, making one or two trips to a trading house some forty milesdown the divide and on the north side of the North Fork of the AmericanRiver. One morning, while preparing to make one of these journeys, threemen came into the Valley and inquired for me. Two of them were from myown county, the other was from St. Louis. They asked for direction to somepoint if I knew of such, where they could mine with profit. I gave themthe desired information and the privilege of using a tent and mining toolswhich they would find some distance above the point to which I directedthem.
I was much distressed with homesickness during this period, and inmy petitions to my Heavenly Father, asked Him to bless me with sufficientmeans to return to my home and friends in Illinois. Finding that I waswasting time working with the man with whom I had been associated sincemy brother’s death, and desiring to look into the face of one I had knownin childhood, I went from the mouth of Eldorado Canon down the North Forkof the Middle Fork of the American River to the place I had directed thestrangers. It was a lonely walk of about six miles. The mountains on bothsides of the river rose far above it, but I was too homesick to enjoy theirrugged grandeur. Not only was I homesick, but penniless; and my objectin going to my tent was to get a crowbar which I hoped to sell for enoughto pay for my expenses to Bear River, where I hoped to find a friend bythe name of Scott. Coming to the tent and finding that someone had takenpossession of it, and that the tools were gone I was angry, and for a momentthe homesickness was forgotten. Leaving the tent in which I had spent somany pleasant hours with my brother, and going down the river a short distance,I saw three men at work on a short strip of ground between a canal andthe river. This increased my anger, for I had an interest there, but itwas soon dissipated. Coming opposite to where they were at work, I recognizedthem as the men I had directed but a few days before to the place wherethey were working, and had given permission to use the tent and the miningtools. Recognition was mutual, and after asking the usual question, “Doesit pay,” and receiving and affirmative answer, I was invited to cross thecanal and judge for myself, as it was almost night, and they were goingto wash out what had been gathered that afternoon. Judging from what theypanned out, they were making about eight dollars per day to the man. Theygave me a very cordial invitation to spend the night with them, to whichI gave cheerful consent. As I had told them that I had an interest in theclaim to which I had directed them, and gave them the use of a tent andmining tools, they could not do less than offer to take me in as a partner.This offer being the brightest prospect that had presented itself sincethe death of my brother, I gave up my journey to Bear River, and acceptingit, cast in my lot with these new-found friends. Our labors together werepleasant and profitable, and at the end of three or four weeks I realizedthat my prayer for means enough to take me home were answered. I had threeshares in the claim above where we had been working, and as the dam andcanal were in good condition, there was a prospect of doing successfulmining during the summer. These shares I sold to the men with whom I hadbeen working, for fifty dollars a share, twenty-five dollars down, thebalance when worked out, providing they paid for working. This, added towhat I had already secured, would be sufficient for the long journey. Thetwo men from near my home intrusted me with small amounts to carry to theirfamilies, with the understanding that if by any mishap it became necessaryfor me to use a part of it, I had the privilege of doing so.
At this point in my narrative it will not be out of place to referto some of the causes of failure on the part of so many whom their friendshad good reason to think should have succeeded. It was not because theywere unwilling to work, neither was it because there was lack of gold inthe mining districts, which had been sought out and quickly peopled withthose who were anxious to secure a fortune in a few days. The first causeof failure was want of exercising good judgement, just as men must do inany calling in life in which they may engage. Too many seemed to thinkthat by going from place to place and digging a hole here and there theywould, by and by, strike it rich. This did occur in some instances, butit was not a wise rule to follow. A second cause of failure was neglectto follow up every indication that gave promise of success. I will neverforget the first particles of gold upon which my eyes rested. I felt atthe time that thorough work should be done to ascertain whether the platof ground that could have been claimed would pay; but my messmates passedit by without even taking out a pan full of dirt and making a slight test,which would have required but a few moments of time. A few weeks after,passing the same plat of ground, I saw that thorough work had been done,and that it had paid, back quite a distance from the bank of the creek.No doubt hundreds of dollars had been taken out of the claim. A third causeof failure was unwillingness to be satisfied with reasonable wages. Thisled men to listen to the wonderful stories that were told, and make hardand expensive journeys without promise of sure success. The fourth andgreatest cause of failure, was the forming of too large companies. Thenumber that could work profitably together depended on the nature of themines in which the work was being done. On bars and in dry or placer diggings,from two to three could work successfully, and in many places one man witha long tom could do well.
CHAPTER NINTH.
It was with a thankful heart I bid these kind friends goodby andturned my face homeward. On the second evening of my journey I reachedthe village of Auburn, and spent the night with two young men I had knownwhen we were boys together, back in the old Keystone State. One of theseyoung men was murdered some two or three years after my return home, andhis body burned in his own cabin. The crime was shrouded in mystery. Ofone thing I was satisfied, the last evening I spent with him–it was hisfailure to make a proper use of the precious privileges he had enjoyedin the home of his childhood. I bid these two friends good-by in Sacramento,and took passage on a river steamer for San Francisco, reaching the cityin the evening. The following day I took passage on the barque Elizabethfor Panama, being the first whose name was entered on the list. The agentin charge was a pleasant, middle-aged Frenchman. He bid me make my homeaboard, as boarding was furnished for all who took passage on his vesselThis was a great help to me, as my limited means required economy. Althoughthe fare was not equal to that of a good boarding house, it was an improvementon that to which I had been accustomed in the mines, and the bunks in thesteerage were new and the bedding clean. The fare to Panama was seventy-fivedollars in cabin, and forty in steerage.
The list of passengers filled up slowly, and a week or ten days passedbefore our barque was ready to sail. These days were spent very pleasantly,as there was much that was interesting to be seen in the new and growingcity. From the high ground back of the city and on the southern side ofthe Golden Gate we had a fine view of the harbor, the beautiful lowlandson its Eastern shore, and the snow-capped mountains in the far distance.It was also a source of enjoyment to watch incoming and out-going vessels,from the magnificent ships of civilized nations to the clumsy junks ofthe heathen Chinese. During those days of waiting I looked on the flagsof many nations, but among them all them was none so beautiful as the “StarSpangled Banner.”
Our period of waiting was ended by the transfer of a number of menwho had taken passage on a ship which was anchored next to ours. This filledour list and preparation was at once made to begin our long journey. Thecrew came on board, consisting of captain, first and second mate, and sixor eight sailors. The captain was a pleasant young man, but not disposedto hold intercourse with steerage passengers. The first mate failed togain their respect, but the second mate soon become [sic] a favorite withus all. It was somewhat difficult to work the vessel out through the shippinginto the open water of the harbor and enter the Golden Gate, and when thatend was obtained the wind was not sufficient to fill the sails, and asthe pilot failed to “whistle it up,” we had to wait until the next morning,when a fine land breeze carried us out into the broad Pacific. The firstcase of sea-sickness afforded much amusement, and the merriment increasedas one after another of those who laughed the loudest would grasp the bulwarkof the vessel, and heave up Jonah. Thus it continued until all but threeof the steerage passengers had turned themselves inside out and indulgedin a season of groaning. I had great reason to be thankful that I was oneof the three.
Among the men transferred from the ship to our vessel were four menfrom my own County. Three of them were brothers, and the other relatedto them by marriage. Being all honorable, upright men, and pleasant travellingcompanions, it added much to my enjoyment. We had a fine breeze for almosttwo weeks, and were able to sail directly on our course. During this timea sad incident occurred, resulting from the most contemptible of all sins,that love of money that leads men to make it in a small way, and throughthe injury of their fellow men. A middle aged man, one of the steeragepassengers, brought a case of brandy on board, no doubt intending to sellit at a good profit, but in this he was disappointed. Some of the passengers,or one of the sailors, stole it while he slept, and the day after the theft,he, with many others, witnessed the sad spectacle of a drunken sailor,the finest looking man, physically, on board the vessel, put in irons andcarried below, where he was confined in the sail room during the remainderof the voyage, and was placed in the hands of the American Consul at Panama.What punishment he received I had no means of knowing, but he extremitywould be death. Little did this contemptible mannon worshipper realizethe extent of the evil that was wrought by his effort to aid his fortuneby starting a saloon on the Pacific Ocean.
We had on board another man who loved the intoxicating cup, thatshared in the stolen brandy and became intoxicated several times duringthe voyage. He was called “Ham” by all the passengers. During one of theseperiods of drunkenness he told me the story of his wrecked life. He wasa Kentuckian by birth, but had, years before our meeting, left his nativestate under a dark cloud that overshadowed this early manhood and embitteredall the years that lay between those sunny hours and that in which he toldme his sad story. He had a pleasant home and was surrounded by loving friends,but in an unguarded moment, and no doubt when intoxicated, he had a difficultywith a brother-in-law and fired a shot which he supposed proved fatal.He at once fled from his home and had been living in Texas, a fugitivefrom justice, and without any positive knowledge of the result of his criminalact. He had spent a year or more in California and was returning to hisTexas home. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he told his sad story. Ofthis man we will have more to say hereafter.
Space in which to take exercise was limited, but what there was waswell improved. All our amusements were of an innocent nature. I did noteven see any of the steerage passengers playing cards during the voyage.Each day there was something interesting to be seen by us. Now it was awhale spouting off to starboard; now a sword-fish in pursuit of game offto the larboard; now it was hundreds of porpoise spouting water into theair and sporting in the sunshine until the surface of the sea was turnedinto foam; or perhaps a sail hove in sight, but so far in the distancethat much time elapsed before we could see the hull. The weather becameintensely hot even before we passed into the Torrid Zone; and after itwas reached the heat became more intense during the day, but the eveningsand night were pleasant. We were becalmed for one full week of the coastof Mexico. The water was as smooth as glass, and during that time not aripple stirred the surface. This was the most unpleasant period of ourvoyage. Our vessel rose and fell with the gentle swells, while the sailsidly floated against the masts; but a breeze struck us at last and againwe were on our way.
Another incident of a sad nature occurred during the voyage. It wasa burial at sea, that of a middle aged man. He was in feeble health whenhe took passage, and failed to derive any benefit from the pleasant breezesthat were bearing us southward, but gradually grew weaker, until finallythe end came, and his body was committed to a watery grave. The body waswrapped in coarse cloth, heavy weights were fastened to the feet, it waslaid on a wide plank, one end resting on the bulwark of the vessel, theother supported by two sailors. The burial service of the Episcopal Churchwas then read by the Captain, at the conclusion of which the sailors raisedup the end of the plank and committed the body to the keeping of the broadPacific. The saddest part of all was the fact that he died without hope.He was a Deist, and spent much of his time in trying to convince othersof the truth of his dogma.
At last the hour came when the officers informed us that our journeywas almost at an end, and a feeling of joy illuminated the countenanceof every passenger. The anchor chains were taken up and all needed preparationmade for the glad moment. Just before we entered the harbor we passed twoships. One had been out seventy-two days from San Francisco, the otherseventy-four. We had made the journey in forty days. About the middle ofthe afternoon of the last day we cast anchor near a small island. the healthofficer came on board and by and by a small steamer came alongside of ourvessel, and those of us who were ready went on board, and in an hour wefound ourselves in a very old, and, to us, a strange, city. We were verymuch bothered for a short time with our sea legs, and realized that wewere walking like blind horses; but by and by we ceased to step high, andagain walked like land lubbers. We secured comfortable lodging and remainedin the city from Friday evening until Monday morning. We found much duringour short stay to interest us. The houses in the business part of the citywere built of stone; many of them three stories high, with a narrow verandaaround each story. The streets were narrow and at that time were not ingood sanitary condition. In fact the entire city was filthy, and the onlyscavengers to be seen laboring to benefit its condition were the buzzards,which were congregated in large flocks in the outskirts of the city. Theywere almost as tame as our domestic fowls. The moral condition of the citywas not any better than its sanitary condition. Like all Central and SouthAmerican cities, Jesuitism had shut out the light of the gospel and boundits inhabitants in blindness and superstition. On Sabbath morning we wentto one of the largest churches in the city. Worshipers were coming andgoing, none of them remaining but a short time. The services were onlya series of ceremonies in which we could see nothing that was edifying.
CHAPTER TENTH.
We left Panama on Monday morning for Gorgona, which is near the headof navigation on the Chagres River. The distance was said to be thirtymiles, and we hoped to reach it by evening. It was now about the middleof May, and the sun had reached a point more than eight degrees north ofthe equator, so the days and nights were about equal, and at noon its positionin the heavens was almost vertical. The heat during the day was intense,but the nights were pleasant. We were all in good health, and thought awalk of thirty miles would only be play for us; but by evening we foundthat we had not made more than two-thirds of the distance, and were gladto tarry overnight at a rude hotel, which had been built by an enterprisingman, who not only saw its need, but knew it would pay. The trail over whichwe passed was good, there being but one hill of any consequence over whichwe had to pass. It was the low range that connects the Rocky Mountainswith the Andes. Only in a few places did we see large trees, but most ofthe distance there was a heavy growth of vegetation. One species of planthad leaves three or four feet long and two feet broad. We were on the waythe next morning as soon as we could see the trail, and for the first timeheard the cry of wild monkeys in the dense forest through which we werepassing. We reached Gargona about ten o’clock a. m. The first man who attractedmy attention was our friend Ham. He had crossed the day before on a mule,and had been drinking, as was his habit when he could secure anything thatwould intoxicate. Poor fellow! He would not have reached the shores ofhis native land, but for the timely aid of his friends. More than oncehe had fallen when intoxicated. Here, as everywhere else that money canbe made, we found men from the States, most of whom had left their consciences,that is, if they had any, behind them.
We remained in the village until the morning of the second day afterour arrival. During that time but one incident occurred worthy of note.Two of the natives had an altercation that came near ending in blood-shed.From words they came to blows, but used the heel of the hand instead ofthe fist. After a few blows had passed between them, one used the ram’sweapon (his head), which was followed by the gleaming of a sharp knifein the sunlight, and a foot race that favored the pursuer; but at thisjuncture the Alcalde (an officer corresponding to the city marshal withus), appeared on the scene and arrested them. The next stage of our journeywas by water, and a boat and boatmen were necessary. These were soughtfor with success, and arrangements were made to take passage the followingmorning. Our little company, comprised of fifteen, was made up of men whohad become well acquainted with each other, and in whom each one had fullconfidence.
The next morning we took passage in a long boat for Chagres. Thedistance was sixty miles, and the fare for the fifteen was sixty dollars.The crew consisted of three: a helmsman and two oarsmen. The only incidentthat occurred during the voyage was a shipwreck, but no lives were lost.About noon the helmsman, in a very excited manner, called to the oarsmento pull to the starboard, but the warning did not come soon enough, andwe struck a snag that was just above the surface of the water. Our boatwas turned so that we struck it amidships on the larboard side, makinga hole just below the water line. The water poured in by the bucketful,but my coat and blankets saved us from going down amid stream, as theywere at the point where the snag pierced us, and by pressing them firmlyagainst the side of the boat, we were kept afloat until we reached theshore. Temporary repairs were made and we proceeded on our voyage, butdid not reach Chagres until after dark. At that time (1851) there wereno towns between Gorgona and Chagres. In fact, we saw but few houses, andthose we did see were little better than hovels.
Chagres, at that time, was a village of several hundred. A numberof those on the north side of the river were from the States, and theirobject in locating in a place where neither health nor comfort aboundedwas to make money, and in doing so they did not follow very closely theadvice the Quaker gave his son. He bade his son when beginning businessfor himself: “Make money; make it honestly if you can, and if not, makeit anyhow.” Of the truthfulness of this statement the following incidentis a good illustration: A Catholic priest, having under his protectionsix nuns, came in on a steamer from New York. Their destination was PortlandOregon. We had noticed them several times and had talked to each otherof the danger to which they would be exposed if they went up the riverin an open boat, and had decided to prevent it if possible. There weretwo little steamers which carried passengers to a village some distanceabove Gorgona, making the distance over land much shorter. One of thesewent up the river every other day, and on it they could make the journeyin comfort and safety. Another element of danger which taking passage onthe steamer would eliminate, was a self-constituted guard who accompaniedthem every where they went. He had belted on his person a knife and revolver.To men who had crossed the plains, spent many months in the mines of California,and made a long sea voyage, none of whom thought of carrying arms, he appearedcontemptible. He was a pimp, or else his looks belied him. Just such aman would be more likely to become a foe and rob those who were in hispower, than to guard them in a any hour of danger. The time for actionon our part came the second day after they landed. In the morning we sawthem, in an open boat, cross the river to the native town on the southside, and waited with some impatience for their return. Finally the longed-formoment came, and when the boat reached the wharf there were at least twentymen at the landing to meet them. The native in charge, seeing our intention,called to his oarsman to shove the boat out from the landing; but the ordercame too late. Two of us had seized the chain attached to the bow and heldher fast. Our spokesman then informed the priest that we would not permitthem to attempt the voyage up the river in an open boat, when by waitinga day they could go safely on one of the little steamers. His answer was:”I have paid our passage and we will have to go in this boat.” He was informedthat all he would have to do was to come on shore and bring the ladieswith him, and the pecuniary difficulty in which it would involve him wouldbe taken care of. By this time most of the nuns were shedding tears, butafter a short parley our wishes were complied with. The ladies were thentaken to another hotel where the rooms were secured for them. The nextstep was the refunding of the passage money which had been paid by thepriest to a man then occupying a room in the hotel where we were boarding.The amount was two hundred dollars. When informed that he must refund it,he asserted which an oath that he would not comply with our request. Hewas then informed that he had twenty-five minutes in which to attend tothis important matter. If he complied with our demand, good and well; ifnot, he must be prepared to meet the consequences. Guards were so placethat he had no opportunity to ecape [sic]. There was no further communicationwith him, but all patiently waited, hoping that harsh measures might beavoided. When the time had almost expired the proprietor of the hotel cameinto a large room joining the one which was occupied by our friend, andinformed us that if we would not proceed any further he would refund themoney. His offer was accepted, and the following morning we had the pleasureof seeing the priest and his party of nuns take passage in the little steamerand start on their voyage up the river in safety and comfort.
Another evidence of the money-loving propensity of the men who hadlocated here, was the fact that, within three-fourths of a mile of theirplaces of business, the corpse of a man had lain in a small arbor exposedto the gaze of passers-by for months. The flesh had fallen from his cheekbones and nose, and his clothes were rotten. Around the arbor was a largenumber of empty bottles, clearly indicating the kind of life he had lived,and the cause of his death. As we think of this sad sight, two questionsare suggested by it–First, did this poor drunkard have any friends whowere waiting and watching for his return home, a mother, a sister or awife, who would have received him with open arms and loving kisses? Alas!if so, they waited in vain, for his bones have been either gathered upby the passers-by, or today lie bleaching in the rays of a torrid sun.Second, how destitute of self-respect must that community be that failsto bury its dead, so that the passers-by will have no cause to tell ofits shameful neglect.
After waiting a week or more we secured passage to New Orleans, andwent on board the Falcon, an old steamer that had been used as a transportduring the Mexican war. We reached Havana in six days, and were then transferredto the Cherokee, a fine new steamer, for which we had cause to be thankful,as the Falcon was not seaworthy, and for that reason did not enter anyport of the United States. Two days were spent pleasantly in the harbor,and one on shore. We saw many things that interested us, and enjoyed thefine tropical fruit, which was abundant and could be bought at a reasonableprice. We left Havana the 8th day of June and reached New Orleans the morningof the 11th. Our journey from San Francisco to New Orleans was not onlyfull of interest on account of the incidents which occurred by the way,but on account of what we saw. We saw many things that were new and strangeto youthful eyes, and so distinctly are they photographed on memory, thatin imagination we can see them almost as distinctly as when we looked uponthem with the natural eye.
Our experiences in New Orleans were not as pleasant as we had anticipated.As is the case when a few friends are traveling together, there is a leaderto whom the others look for guidance, and in most cases follow. The leaderof our little band was a Mr. Hymer, the oldest of three brothers. Two runnersmet us as we landed from the steamer. One of them was a gentleman, theother devoid of principle; but Mr. Hymer failed to read his character,and willingly followed him. The first thing inquired for was a cheap restaurant.After this was found and breakfast eaten, a house of exchange, where wecould receive coin for our gold dust, was next on the program. The manwho had the honest face took us to an honest house, but the amount offeredwas not satisfactory t Mr. H., as the other gentleman could take us toa house where we could get ten cents more per ounce. We warned Mr. H. ofdanger in weights, but still, like silly sheep, we followed him, and theten cent man was patronized. Our leader emptied the contents of his purseinto the scale and the weight was correct. The second man was cheated,but was too dull in figures to give warning. I was the third, and whenthe scales were balanced I made out the amount, but before I could graspthe scale containing my hold, he (the man who had weighed it) seized andpoured it into a bowl, in which he had emptied that of the two which precededme. Turning to the others, I told them I had been cheated, and steppedaside to count the coin I had received. The man who had led us to thisdishonest house, in a very officious way, wished to know how much I had,and was informed that all he needed to know was that I had been cheatedout of seventy-five dollars, and he took it for granted that he was safersomewhere else and disappeared. The next man emptied his gold into thescale, at the same time telling the man who did the weighing that he couldnot have it if his weight did not hold out, and made him announce the amount.He then poured it into his purse, and we went to the house first visitedby us, where he received honest weight, but ten cents less per ounce. Returningto our friends, we were astonished to learn that two of them, after beingwarned, had allowed themselves to be cheated by these scoundrels. Havingcheated us out of two hundred and fifty dollars, we charged them with dishonesty.At this juncture a man who had come through from San Francisco with uscame in and asked them if they bought gold dust, and after receiving ananswer in the affirmative, he was told by one of our number that they wouldcheat him if he sold his gold to them. This so angered them that one ofthem tried to frighten us by requesting the other to go for a policeman.Some [of] our company were anxious to leave, but were prevented by theothers until he returned, of course without an officer. Having no furtherbusiness with these men and no means of recovering the gold, we resolvedto bear it with patience, and profit by the lesson experience had taughtus; the principle of the point of which is this: Never follow a ten centman, when your better judgement leads you to fear the loss of dollars byit.
On the evening of the 11th we took passage on a large steamer forSt. Louis. Our voyage up the Mississippi was a very pleasant one and wasmade in six days. At the mouth of the Red River our friend Ham, who hadbeen a conspicuous figure during the long journey, left us. Poor fellow!We very much fear that his dust is now sleeping in a drunkard’s grave.
After spending a pleasant day in the city, we took passage on anIllinois River packet for Fredricksville, which place we reached on theevening of June 20th, 1851. Here I separated from my companions with whomI had traveled some 5000 miles. While contemplating the unpleasantnessof a walk of nine miles, I was accosted by a stranger, who pointed to afine horse in which stood hitched near by, and said: “That is my horse,you get on him and go home, and you can send him back to me in the morning.”This act of kindness on the part of a stranger has never been forgotten.
As I had not yet heard from home for more than a year, my anxietyincreased as the moment of meeting with loved ones drew near; and I wasconstrained, when within three miles of home, to inquire at a house bythe wayside, if all family were living and well. The answer brought comfortto my heart. The three miles were quickly made, and a glad and somewhatsurprised household have a warm welcome to the long absent one.
Fifty-four years have passed, moment by moment, into the eternitywhich is behind me, and all but two of those who composed the householdat that time have received a mansion from Jesus, in the realms of EternalGlory; and now, as I draw nearer and nearer to that same Eternal Home,no anxiety regarding their safety clouds the joy of meeting, for no sorrow,or sickness, no death can every enter the Glorious Home where they aredwelling.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
I now enter upon a period of my life, in which the story I have totell is only commonplace. I took up the vocation I had laid down in thespring of 1849, not only with willing hands, but a thankful heart, realizingthat the comforts and pleasures of home were of more intrinsic value thanall the gold that could be acquired in the mines of California by yearsof toil. Although I failed to improve my condition financially, I gainedthat which has been a blessing to me through life: First, knowledge gainedfrom travel and the various experiences through which I passed; second,a deep insight into human character by the study of men from a favorablestandpoint; third, restoration to health, after two years of trouble withindigestion.
Amid the peace and quiet of home, the blessings flowing from thepublic worship of god in His house on the Sabbath, and mingling with theyoung people of my age caused life to flow in a very pleasant channel;and although there were not many flowers growing along its margin thatI was permitted to gather, those which came into my possession were veryfragrant. Many new acquaintances were formed; among them a young man bythe name of Clark. A warm friendship grew up between us, which resultedin my becoming acquainted with his most intimate friends. Among them wasa family by the name of Owen, which consisted of the parents, one son andfive daughters. Their’s was a pleasant Christian household, in the bosomof which one who loved the Savior could find repose. Young Mr. Clark hadselected the third daughter for his companion for life, and as his lovewas reciprocated by her, their engagement was known of and approved bythe family, and the position enjoyed by him in the household gave to anyfriend he might bring into the family circle a pleasant welcome. I hadnot been in the company of these young ladies but a few times until I sawin the eldest daughter that which drew me to her, and my visits becamemore frequent. I did not, however, allow myself to become too deeply involvedin that mysterious influence called love, until I could provide a homefor her whom I hoped would become my wife. This being satisfactorily arranged,I watched with growing interest the unfolding of that mutual affectionwhich had grown up between us, and with confidence declared my love forher and received in return the tender affection of a pure loving heart.
Under that mysterious influence which had bound me with such pleasantbonds, I was constrained to write this little poem:
Dear gentle maid, if I but know
That I was loved by thee;
Then ever faithful would I prove,
And ever constant be.
No other one can ever gain
What you may now possess,
If you will only smile on me,
If you my love will bless.
Though fair as lilies she might be,
And blooming as the spring;
With voice as sweet as David’s harp,
And naught but love would sing.
But if no love you have fore me,
Then mine must shortly fade;
And fly upon the wings of time,
Into oblivion’s shade.
Such pleasant influences as a father’s home, the peace and spiritualstrength derived from the services of God’s sanctuary on the Sabbath, andcompanionship with the one whom I knew loved me very tenderly, made eachday of toil pleasant, changing the heat of summer into May-day mornings,and the chilly blasts of winter into golden days of autumn. During thesedays of unalloyed pleasure, all needed preparation was made for the finalconsummation, and on the twenty-third birthday of Miss Mary Owen, we tookon us the vows which made us husband and wife. The following week we tookpossession of our little home, and on the first evening spent beneath itskindly shelter we erected a family altar, committing ourselves and ournew-made home to the keeping of our Heavenly Father. Here we spent twoyears of the short journey God permitted us to make together, each daymade pleasant by His blessing resting upon us.
Late in the fall of ’54 a change was made necessary by events overwhich we had no control. By the kindness of the loved ones in the old homestead,my wife found kindly shelter with them, and I engaged in teaching vocalmusic. My Sabbaths, after the close of each week of toil and exposure,were spent with her and the loved ones. On the fourth of January, 1855,the joys of our married life were increased to their fullest extent, byour Heavenly Father placing in the arms of my companion a little boy whowas hailed as a precious treasure by all the household, but as is oftenthe case with our richest blessings, trial and disappointment came. Thelittle one was not strong, and the mother’s health was poor, causing aseason of care and anxiety. Partial health having been attained, arrangementswere made for the spring and summer. Through the persuasion of friendsand a love for farm life, I entered into an unwise partnership which gaveto us a season of hard toil, for which we received little remuneration.At the close of summer the partnership was dissolved, and I sold my interestto the friend with whom I had been associated. The health of our littleone was poor during the summer, and his exposure to flux causing us anxiety,the mother took him to the home of her parents. A few days later a premonitionof impending danger seized me with such force that I hastened to the dearones, and was permitted for a few brief hours to look on the loved form,and then angels came and bore him to the realms of eternal glory. Thissad bereavement brought sorrow to our hearts, but the thought that he wassafe in the upper fold, under the care of Jesus the Good Shepherd, broughtsuch comfort to us that we were entirely resigned to our Heavenly Father’swill.
During the fall of ’55 and winter of ’56 I again taught vocal music,and was so successful financially that we felt able, by help offered us,to secure a little home of our own. Being disappointed in securing thesmall tract we so much desired, we permitted ourselves to be influencedby a friend, and bought a much larger one. We took possession and spentanother summer of hard toil, at the close of which my wife’s health failedto such an extent that we could not remain longer in our new home. Thatdread disease, consumption, which had its incipiency in her girlhood, developed,and a season of anxiety and expense followed. She had a great desire togo to one of the water cures so extensively advertised at that time. Tosecure the means to accomplish this seemed almost impossible, but one placedin such circumstances will make great sacrifices to carry out the wishof one whom he loves. I sold our home, as I supposed, to a responsibleparty, at a profit of two hundred dollars, but the purchaser, being a cautiousGerman, declined to complete the contract on account of a slight defectin the chain of title. To make amends as far as he could for disappointment,he loaned us one hundred dollars for six months. The Rev. James Chase,pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Doddsville, of which we were members,loaned us another hundred, and on the first day of September, 1856, wetook the train at Macomb, Illinois, for Cleveland, Ohio, where Dr. Seely’sWater Cure was located. We reached our destination in safety, and my wifeat once entered on a course of treatment under the direction of the physicians,but at the end of ten days they frankly told us that the case was hopeless,and in a spirit of kindness advised us to return home. Their advice wastaken, and, after spending two days on the way and traveling part of onenight by stage, we reached its kindly shelter. Thus ended the only hopeto which we had clung, and now followed a long season of watching and waiting.During the pleasant fall weather she took horseback rides, which made timepass more pleasantly than to sit down and give way to despondency. Whenthe chilly blasts of winter came she rested under the parental roof, andunder the tender nursing of her mother, patiently awaited the coming ofthe angel of death.
My financial obligation to my German friend required of me a seasonof activity. I again engaged in teaching vocal music during the week, andspent the Sabbath with her for whom I had so much solicitude. On each returningSabbath I realized that the hour of our final separation was fast drawingnear. At last there came a Sabbath when I knew that another day of restwould not dawn for her on earth. After conferring with the faithful mother,I laid aside every other duty, and awaited the hour when our walk togetheron earth would be ended. The season of waiting was brief. Before anotherSabbath dawned she had entered on an eternal Sabbath of rest in Heaven.After the funeral services at the home where she had spent so many happydays, we followed her lifeless form to a new-made grave and laid it awayto rest, until summoned my the Archangel’s trumpet to come forth to a gloriousresurrection. She died on January 12, 1857, aged twenty-seven years, onemonth and twenty-one days.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
After the death of my wife there was a season of loneliness throughwhich I passed, that could not be dispelled by associating with relativesand friends or looking on the familiar scenes with which I was surrounded.I had discharged by financial obligation to my German friend and the pastorof the Doddsville Church. My farm was rented for one year, and there wasnothing to prevent me from gratifying a desire to look on new scenes andinto the faces of strangers, and the questions which came before me weretwo: First, Where shall I go? And second, What shall I do? The first requiredmuch thought, the second was quickly answered. Why I did not decide tovisit the scenes of my childhood instead of going to a “Slave State,” seemsstrange to me now; but it did not enter my mind until the circumstancesin which I was placed were such that they prevented me from doing so. Hannibal,Missouri, was the first point visited, but failing to organize a classin vocal music as I had hoped to do, I did not tarry long in the city.From there I went to LaGrange, Missouri, where I met with good successduring the summer, and in the fall and winter extended my labors to othertowns, and a number of points in the country. During this time I formedmany pleasant acquaintances. Among their number was the Rev. W. W. Whippel,pastor of the Presbyterian Church, a man who was loved not only by hisown people, but all who knew him. In him I found a true friend and wisecounsellor. Among the ladies with whom I became acquainted was a widow,just in the bloom of womanhood, by the name of Mrs. Mary M. Murphy. She,like myself, had passed through a season of sorrow. Her husband, who hadmade for her a pleasant home, and was bound to her not only by tender tiesof love, but in the bonds of christian fellowship, has been–some fouryears previous to our acquaintance,–taken from her very suddenly. Whilein the woods near her father’s home hunting wild turkeys, he was accidentlykilled by another hunter, and she was left with a precious baby boy, EdwardNathan, only six weeks old, to care for. Edward was born August 31, 1853,and became a great joy to his widowed mother’s heart. My attention wasfirst attracted to her by one of those little incidents which often bringabout important results in the life of an individual, and sometimes greatresults in the affairs of a nation. By the invitation of the leader ofthe choir in the Presbyterian Church, I was supplementing the bass by usingmy bass viol, and occupied a seat between the bass and soporano [sic].During the long prayer a lady, occupying the head of the alto seat, droppeda bouquet which rolled just in front of me, and at the close of the prayerI returned it to her. The gentle manner and pleasant smile with which shereceived it made a deep impression on me, and led to an acquaintance whichgrew into more than an ordinary friendship. She, being only a visitor inthe little city, after spending a few weeks with relatives, returned toher home in Round Grove Township, Marion County, where she resided withher father, Mr. Joseph Bohon, but before doing so she gave me a kind invitationto visit her father’s family, and suggested the organizing of a class invocal music in the neighborhood. I did not fail to comply with this kindinvitation extended to me by one whom I loved, and although there was noclass organized in the neighborhood, her father’s home became a pleasantstopping place when passing to and from points on either side of it whereI had organized classes. This season of pleasant comradeship with thisfamily of more than ordinary intelligence ended for a season, by my bearingfrom their midst her who has been to me a precious treasure and to theworld a rich blessing. We were united in the holy bonds of wedlock on thetwenty-third day of February, 1858, and during the week, with her and herlittle son, Edward N., then four years of age, I returned to my home inDoddsville, Illinois. Here we spent one year and nine months, filled withuseful toil, sweetened by the pleasures of home life, and the christianfellowship of God’s people.
At the end of this time we sold our farm, and through the agencyof my wife’s father purchased eighty acres of beautiful prairie near hishome, the first payment being made with money received from the sale ofa small estate belonging to my wife. We returned to Round Grove Township,Marion County, Missouri, the last week in November, 1859, and receiveda warm welcome from the loved ones, all of whom were still dwelling beneaththe parental roof except one, the youngest,–a bright christian boy offifteen years, who had been called from the bosom of a christian home tothe realms of Eternal Glory.
The winter months were spent in making preparations to build a smallhouse, and by the middle of April it was so near completion that we occupiedit, deferring its completion until the fall. As I look back on this littleunfinished home consisting of only two rooms, and think of the beautifullocation upon which it was erected, surrounded as it was at that time bysmall groves of pin oak interspersed with wild plum bushes in full bloom.I can without an effort call up their beauty, and hear the songs of thehappy birds which welcomed us to our new home. We entered it with heartsoverflowing with gratitude to our Heavenly Father, not only for its kindlyshelter, but also for a new member of the household,–a son,–born on the20th of March, 1860. We called him William Murphy, and he added much joyto our lives.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
Our home was in the bounds of the New Providence Presbyterian Church,with which we united by letter from the Presbyterian Church of Doddsville,Illinois, in which I had been a ruling elder. The church has secured, asstated supply, the Rev. J. L. Jones, and much interest was taken in theSabbath school and preaching on the Sabbath and in the prayer meeting onWednesday evening. Early in the summer of ’60, the session of which I hadbecome a member, decided to hold a series of meetings in the month of October.At a meeting of the session in midsummer it was suggested by one of themembers that at a certain hour of each day, no matter where we were orwhat we were doing, prayer for the reviving influence of the Holy Spiritin the hearts of the church membership and the leading of the unsaved inthe community to Christ, be offered. The proposition was gladly acceptedby all, and I have no doubt was faithfully kept. Six weeks before the timeset for the series of meetings to begin, there was a deep and growing interestin the prayer meeting which continued to increase, and at the commencementof the meeting, developed into a revival of great power. Services wereheld every forenoon and evening for two weeks, and at the close thirtyprofessed their faith in Christ and united with the church. For some ofthese it was a season of preparation for the hardships and temptationsthrough which they were soon to pass. To my wife and myself it came asa season of joy, and prepared us more fully for the trials that were fastapproaching us and all the loyal people in the community.
Although the fall was far advanced when the meetings closed, we hadpleasant weather in which to finish our house and make it comfortable forthe winter. About this time I was much troubled about my financial affairs.The man to whom I had sold our farm in Illinois, had failed to meet hisobligation to us, and positively refused to make any effort to do so. Thiswould involve me in serious difficulty, if my creditors pressed me, butI had one friend to whom I could go and tell my anxiety, and ask that sufficientmeans might come into my hands to enable me to meet my financial obligationsand save me from bringing reproach on the Gospel of Christ. The sequelwill show that, though long deferred, my asking was heard and answeredin God’s own good time and way.
More serious difficulties were fast approaching, and much anxietywas felt by all thinking men, both North and South. That spirit of compromiseby which difficulties between the North and South had been settled fromthe year 1820 until Kansas was admitted as a State, received its deathblow by the election of Abraham Lincoln as president of the United States.It was the emphatic declaration of a majority of the people, “No more slaveterritory.”
The leaders in the South had struggled long and hard for the ascendency,and for a number of years were successful. Territory was annexed,–Louisiana,Florida and Texas,–all in the interest of slavery. For the applicationof the Jefferson proviso to Oregon, they demanded and received an apology,but justice moved steadily on. When the men of California chose freedom,the death knell of slavery was sounded. This led Calhoun on his deathbedto council secession. Then followed the struggle over Kansas. In this theblotting out of the line between slave territory and free territory wasdemanded, and the answer was: “Be it so; we are brethren, let there beno strife between us.” On such a basis one would think the Southern leaderscould rest their cause; but alas for them! the victory was on the sideof freedom. To what? To whom shall the South now turn for help? It is thechief justice of the United States Court who comes to the rescue. “Withoutany necessity,” says George Bancroft, “he volunteered to come to the rescueof slavery; and from his court there lay no appeal, but to the bar of humanityand history. Against he constitution, against the memory of the nation,against a series of enactments, he declared that the slave is property,that slave property is entitled to no less protection than any other property;that the constitution upholds it in every territory against any act oflocal legislation; [“?] or, as the president for that term tersely promulgatedthe saying, “Kansas is as much a slave State as South Carolina or Georgia.Slavery by virtue of the constitution exists in every territory. The municipalcharacter of slavery thus being taken away and slave property declaredto be sacred;” the authority of the courts were invoked to introduce itby the comity of law into States where slavery had been abolished; andin one of the courts of the United States, a judge pronounced the Africanslave trade legitimate, and numerous and powerful advocates demanded itsrestoration. Moreover the chief justice in his elaborate opinion announcedwhat had never been heard from any magistrate of Greece or Rome, what wasunknown to civil law and common lay, unknown to Jay, to Rutledge, Ellsworthand Marshall,–“That there are slave races.”
It was the passage of the fugitive slave law by Congress and thisdecision,–known as the “Dred Scott Decision,” which were the last strawsthat broke the ‘camel’s back,” and brought about the organization of theRepublican Party, and it was the circumscribing of slavery by this partythat caused the leaders in the South to induce the people of the SouthernStates to secede and bring about the “Civil War.” The loyal people in theborder states saw the danger, and knew when Ft. Sumpter was fired on thatthe struggle was on, and would be fought to the bitter end, but few realizedthat slavery was doomed in the States where it existed.
The gloom that oppressed the minds of the loyal portion of our communitywas in strange contrast to the feelings of the disloyal. They were so confidentof success, and so bitter in their feelings against the Northern people,that they manifested feelings of joy; boasted that one Southern man couldwhip three Northern men, and some of them confidently looked forward toa time when the property of the loyal people would fall into their hands.One good gentleman,–a member of our church,–frankly said to me: “Whenthe Southern people have accomplished their independence, there shouldbe a law passed making it a penalty of death for a Northern man to emigrateto a Southern State.” As I had moved into the community from a NorthernState, and was free in expressing my views, I was soon regarded as a dangerousman, and would not have been tolerated for any length of time if I hadnot been connected by marriage with Southern people, all of whom were loyal.
During the spring and summer the anxiety which I felt for my lovedones and myself oppressed me, and the condition of my country filled mymind with deep solicitude; and the question, what shall I do? forced itselfon me. My country was calling for help. Could I leave the loved ones andconsecrate my life to her service. And if I did, could they live on thewages of a private soldier, if I failed in the organization of the companyto secure a commissioned office? But an end came to these ever recurringquestions. On the last day of August, 1861, eighteen men came dashing downon our home with their guns unslung ready to take my life, if I was foolishenough to run. Their coming was so sudden that my wife was almost overcomewith terror; but happily, no serious results followed it. After searchingthe house for arms, they left us to our own reflections. Then and therethe decision was made, and communicated to my wife in these words: “I amgoing into the service of my country.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At this juncture John M. Glover was commissioned by the governorof the State to organize a regiment of cavalry, and James Howland of LaGrangewas making up a company of which he was to be captain; an a number of youngmen in our neighborhood were enlisting and becoming members of it. By noonon Monday I was ready to move my family to LaGrange, where three of mywife’s sisters were residing. Everything on the farm but enough householdgoods to enable my wife to keep house was left without any one to takecare of it. After spending two or three days in making arrangements forthe comfort of my family I went to Quincy, Illinois, and enlisted as aprivate soldier, trusting time and good luck for something better. I wentinto the company of which Howland was to be captain. For 1st and 2nd lieutenantsthere were several aspirants. All these were tested by the men who wherein the habit of drinking as to their willingness to treat and drink withthem. As I intended running for 2nd lieutenant I was tested with the othersand found wanting. Then election came, I was beaten by a man who was destituteof moral character.
A few days after a second election was held, and one of my drinkingfriends who had been elected third sergeant nominated me for eighth corporal,the lowest office in the company, and I was elected. This was intendedas an insult, but I refused to accept it as such, and quietly performedthe duties of the office. By and by another election was held. Why thiswas done I do not know, for the result was the same, except in my own case.When it came to eighth corporal, my friend nominated an ignorant man bythe name of Higgens who was elected. Again I failed to take offense atthis intended insult, and quietly discharged the duties of a common soldier.
During the time we were in Quincy I was permitted to visit my familyseveral times. On my second visit I was permitted to take into my armsa precious little daughter; born on the eighteenth day of September, 1861,just thirteen days after I had enlisted in the service of my country. Wenamed her Lucy Helen. My wife was very ill for several weeks after thebirth of the little one, but finally regained her health, and with noble,womanly courage, met the trials through which she was called to pass. Muchcredit is also due the sister who tenderly cared for her during this, oneof the darkest periods of her life.
A few days after the third election of officers by Company A hadbeen held, Companies A, B and C were ordered to Palmyra, Missouri. Herewe went into camp on the Fair Ground, which was not only a place of beauty,but one well suited to the needs of cavalry men, requiring but little workon our part to make ourselves and horses comfortable. We had been but afew days encamped on these pleasant grounds, when, on a bright Octoberday, my friend Sergt. S—- came into camp so drunk that he fell from hishorse in a helpless condition, and was assisted to his tent by some ofhis comrades. When this reached the ears of the captain he came and askedme to take the poor fellow’s place, but I declined on the ground that thedrinking men in the company would give me trouble. Shortly after the captain’sfirst call he and Col. Glover came, and after talking the matter over withme I accepted the office, and filled it to the entire satisfaction of themen. The following morning the ex-sergeant asked to be placed in chargeof a mule team. His request was granted, and he filled the position withcredit to himself and the satisfaction of the wagon master until the closeof the war.
Most of our time while encamped on the Fair Grounds was occupiedin drilling and guard duty, two very essential things in the making ofa good soldier. It was here we first met our major. He had been a sergeantin the regular army and was commissioned major of volunteers and assignedto our regiment. He was a good drill master, and devoted himself faithfullyto the discharge of his duties. He had, however, acquired one habit, saidto belong to a cavalryman, to which many of us objected, that of “cursinglike a trooper.” What made it so offensive to us was the fact that he madeit personal in its application. His name was Robert Carric. We remainedon the Fair Grounds until cold weather compelled us to go into winter quarters.Many small bodies of men were sent out during this time, and some of themost disloyal were brought into camp and required us to take an oath torefrain from taking up arms against the Government, or from aiding thosewho had already done so. This to many of us was unpleasant, as it sometimesbrought us in contact with those who had been our friends, and in everycase the duty was one which was repugnant to the finer feelings of ournature, as it often required us to enter and search the houses of thosewhom we were ordered to arrest. More arduous duties, however, were requiredof us before the close of the year 1861.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
On the morning of December 23rd we started on a march of four days,at the end of which we reached Sturgeon, a village in Boone County, locatedon the North Missouri Railroad. Col. Berge’s sharp-shooters were stationedhere, and our coming was to co-operate with them against a body of rebeltroops that were encamped some distance south of Sturgeon. To ascertaintheir exact location and some knowledge of their strength Captain Howland,with forty-six men of his company, was sent out on a reconnaissance, accompaniedby a guide. It was a pleasant winter’s afternoon, and the men were in goodspirits, ready for any emergency common to a soldier’s lot. The advanceguard, consisting of ten men, were under the command of the First Lieutenant.Nothing of importance occurred until we had marched about thirteen miles.Just as we were passing out of an oak grove into an open prairie, we wereconfronted by a squad of rebels who had just reached the end of a laneabout two hundred yards in front of us. The surprise was mutual, but, asthey were what we were looking for, we had no hesitation in letting themknow it. They halted in column, but our men, by a common impulse, cameinto line, halted, and drew their rifles from the holsters and fired, butonly two were discharged, as the trotting of our horses had jarred thepowder out of the others. The rebels wheeled and fled, and our men witha cheer gave chase. Unfortunately for one of our men, his gun had becamefastened in the holder and he had to unbuckle it from his saddle to securethe privilege of shooting. When the chase began he endeavored to stop hishorse and buckle it on, but failed, and throwing it down for some of thecompany to take care of when they came up, he drew his revolver, and wassoon flying after his comrades. He had not gone far, however, until hesaw that the right shank of his bridle bit was broken, and in a momentcame the question: “What if the enemy is in force in front, and our menhave to retreat, could I guide my horse and save myself?” But he had butlittle time to think, for on he went, watching for an opportunity to stophim, and by and by it came. In front of a house on the left was an anglein the fence, and here he came to a halt, and, dismounting, cut the brokenshank from the rein and tied it round the bar, and in less time than ittakes to tell it was ready to mount. Just at this moment two of our menwent by at full speed, exclaiming as they passed: “Get on your horse quickor the rebels will get you.: The company was now in sight, and the tideturned the other way, but it was evident to all who were disposed to thinkthat we were in a trap. The rebels had out-generaled us. Their camp wason our right flank as we were advancing, and we went so far beyond it,and were detained so long by the imprudence of the second lieutenant, thatthey had time to send out a force of three hundred men to cut us off. Wehad a sharp skirmish with them just as night closed in on us, in whichseveral of our men were wounded,–one mortally,–and three taken prisoners.The captain, who was wounded, was one of the three. The second lieutenant,who had shown a great deal of courage, but little common sense, when wewere being drawn into the trap, did not stay to do much fighting, whena good opportunity was offered, but fled from the field, leaving his comradesto do the best they could in the unequal contest. He, with another likehimself, reached camp almost two hours before anyone else, and reportedall killed or taken prisoners but themselves.
After reaching camp the colonel and major came to me and relatedthe second lieutenant’s story, and inquired particularly about the captain.I told them he was not killed, but was taken prisoner; that he had dismounted,and after emptying one revolver, he was reaching over the front of hissaddle to secure from the holster another at the moment his horse wheeledto the left and knocked him down; that his horse followed a squad of usacross the field in which the left of our line had rested and that I hadone of the men secure him and bring him into camp.
Copyright 1999, 2006Robin L. Worth Petersen
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