THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 t^o
 
 Come to be 3Iarriei>. Frontier, p. f»0.
 
 ON THE FEOJ!^TIER, 
 
 SCENES IN THE WEST, 
 
 Written for the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society^ 
 and approved by the Committee of Publication, 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS SABBATH SCHOOL SOCIETY, 
 Depository, No. 13 Cornhill.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by the 
 
 MASS. SABBATH SCHOOL SOCEETY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 
 
 STEREOTYPED AT THE 
 (08T0N STEEEOTYPE FOUNDEY. 
 
 PMNTID BY WRIGHT & POTTER.
 
 3Y 
 ANSIS' 
 
 Qss 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page. 
 
 Adventure on a Western Steamer, , . 7 
 
 Death on the Prairie 19 
 
 Going for Lumber , , 41 
 
 Light for the Prairie 70 
 
 A Ride to a Western Wedding, ... 89 
 The Little Mound in the West, . . ,119 
 A Walk with a Stranger, . . . .122 
 
 A Frontier Tragedy, 147 
 
 Frontier Women, 186 
 
 The Midnight Call 221 
 
 The World -Wanderer, ..*... 232 
 
 The Pastor's Dream, 242 
 
 A Smile, a Glance, a Hymn, .... 247 
 
 A Lost Opportunity, 254 
 
 "Not in Vain," 261 
 
 The Praying Bankrupt, 265 
 
 "A Soft Answer," 276 
 
 That Promise 281 
 
 After Many Days 285 
 
 My Cousin 289 
 
 Incident in a Depot, 300 
 
 My Step-Mother, cT'T' Ck<"*)*^€^ * * ^^^
 
 ON THE FRONTIER 
 
 ADVENTURE ON A WESTERN 
 STEAMER. 
 
 I HAD been for some years in poor 
 health, and, at length, became almost pros- 
 trated in body and mind. Physicians ad- 
 vised a change of climate, recommending 
 the North-west as adapted to restore the 
 tone of my physical system, and save my 
 lungs from disease. 
 
 Having never visited the region desig- 
 nated, I wrote a letter of inquiry to a friend 
 who had just returned from that part of 
 the country. Among other things, in reply, 
 
 C7)
 
 8 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 he said, " Should you go West, beware of 
 the Mississippi River desperadoes. In taking 
 a steamer, appropriate a state-room to your- 
 self; do not, on any consideration, share 
 one with a stranger. Let the money you 
 take with you be in gold, and what you 
 do not at once need secure about your 
 person, thus." Then followed an ingenious 
 method of secreting it. At the close of his 
 communication, the caution concerning the 
 money and the state-room was repeated. 
 
 Now, it is all very well, doubtless, for the 
 physician with a lucrative practice to ad- 
 vise his patient to take a long and expensive 
 iourney, and the well-to-do merchant, with 
 characteristic foresight, to describe the best 
 way of taking care of surplus funds ; but 
 how one whose income was " five hundred 
 a year, and sass," as Peep at Xo. 5 has it, 
 could make such directions useful, was a 
 question.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 9 
 
 Nevertheless, in one such case, at least, 
 that problem was solved; I will not say 
 how, without the permission of the gener- 
 ous friends who saved heart and brain that 
 tug. So one pleasant autumn morning 
 found me on my way to the El Dorado 
 of broken-down dyspeptics and pining con- 
 sumptives. 
 
 A ride of fourteen hundred miles from 
 my sick room, and I was at Dubuque, 
 weary, yet impatiently awaiting the steamer 
 that w-as to take me to the rolling prairies 
 and bracing air of Minnesota. I had seen 
 " the lions," and had nothing to do but 
 that most patience-trying of all vocations 
 in this railroad era to wait — for a delaying 
 conveyance. Hour after hour passed, and 
 I had about given up expecting the boat, 
 when the porter, touching his cap, said, 
 " The steamer is coming, sir. Shall I take 
 your baggage to the landing?"
 
 10 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 What a swarming hive was that Missis- 
 sippi steamer ! What part of the world was 
 not represented in that motley, jostling 
 throng ! 
 
 My first business was to secure a state- 
 room, for it was plain that all on board 
 would not have beds that night. Just then 
 my friend's advice recurred, and I resolved 
 it should be followed. 
 
 "I would like a state-room entirely to 
 myself," said I to the clerk. " Can I be 
 accommodated ? " 
 
 " Can't tell about that I " said he, crust- 
 ily. Then, looking over his book, " Yes, 
 here's one empty — forty-nine; and here's 
 the key," handing a key to which was 
 attached a strip of leather marked 49. 
 
 I was enough of an invalid to retire 
 early, and, having disposed of my valise, 
 turned to fasten the door, when, on insert-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. H 
 
 ing the key, I found that it would not fit 
 the lock. Returning to the office, my very 
 meek statement of the unpleasant fact did 
 not add to the amiability of the clerk. He 
 couldn't be responsible for every key on 
 the boat ; if the wrong one had been 
 labeled forty-nine, it wasn't his fault. " All 
 is," said he, " that's the only state-room, 
 and that's the only key to it / know of!" 
 
 There was no redress. I could only go 
 back to the state-room, barricade the door 
 with such articles as were at hand, and 
 make the best of it. 
 
 How welcome " nature's sweet restorer " 
 to the sick and weary traveler, and how 
 unwelcome to have its blissful spell dis- 
 turbed, thought I, as strong-lunged voices 
 banished my slumber. Looking from the 
 little window at the head of my berth, an 
 animated scene was presented. On an ele-
 
 12 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 vated stand was perched a well-dressed 
 man, playing on a shrill-voiced accordeon 
 a popular air, accompanying it with a 
 superb voice ; the swaying mass of human- 
 ity around joining in the chorus ; scores 
 of voices in unison making stentorian mel- 
 ody. I was in no mood to sympathize with 
 their enjoyment, but felt rather like the 
 old lady, who, not approving of martial 
 music, as the military pageant was passing, 
 stepped out, and requested the band to stop 
 playing. Till eleven o'clock the noisy 
 music continued, when a tall, red-faced 
 man, who made it his business to tease the 
 musician, dropped a satirical remark in 
 one of the pauses in the concert about a 
 certain duet by a cracked voice and a badly 
 cracked accordeon. The leader of the or- 
 chestra, with the over-sensitiveness of his 
 class, declared, in high wrath, he would
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 13 
 
 play no more — an announcement which, 
 very ungratefully, was received with cheers, 
 and the passengers separated for the night. 
 
 Just from the sick room, the journey 
 and the loss of rest had so jaded me, that 
 at once, as soon as it was quiet, I fell into 
 a deep sleep. Suddenly, however, I was 
 again aroused, by the falling of some article 
 to the floor, and, rising upon my elbow, 
 saw a face peering in at the door, as if 
 some one was making exertions to enter. 
 
 It was a swarthy face, with shaggy eye- 
 brows and heavy black beard, and the 
 reader can feel assured it did not impress 
 me at all favorably in the dim light and 
 the dead silence. 
 
 " What do you want ? " I asked. 
 
 " I have come to turn in ! " said my 
 visitor, stepping fully into view. 
 
 " You have mistaken the number," said 
 1 : " this is my room."
 
 14 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 " I think yon are mistaken," he coolly re- 
 plied : " this is forty-nine, I believe ? Yes,'* 
 added he, stepping back, and reading the 
 number on the door, '' forty-nine ^'^ then 
 exhibiting a key on which that number 
 was marked. 
 
 " There is something wrong," I replied, 
 " and I can not submit to intrusion." 
 
 " And I can not be kept out of my berth," 
 he rejoined, determinedly. " The clerk sent 
 me here not three minutes ago, with this 
 key, and here I intend to stay." 
 
 " We will see what the clerk says about 
 it," said I, starting out to find him. My 
 intruder followed ; but the office lights were 
 out, and save tlie echo of our footsteps, and 
 the strain and rush of the boat, silence 
 brooded in the vast floating palace. 
 
 " The clerk has turned in, I guess," said 
 my new acquaintance, " the rascal ! He was
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 15 
 
 here not more than three minutes ago. 
 What's to be done ? " 
 
 I reflected a moment. A short time be- 
 fore, a passenger, walking the boat at night, 
 mysteriously disappeared ; his agonized fam- 
 ily being put ashore the next morning pen- 
 niless and without a protector. I must 
 confess that, under the circumstances, I 
 scarcely knew which to choose — the state- 
 room with the stranger, or the open boat 
 without the stranger, but concluded to take 
 the former. So, returning together, and tak- 
 ing the upper of the tier of berths, I resolved 
 to keep watch for the rest of the night, 
 ready for any emergency. My unwelcome 
 companion took the berth next below me. 
 
 It was not hard to keep awake after the 
 events of the evening ; and yet the moments 
 moved slowly. Full two hours passed, and 
 I was deliberating whether or not to dismiss
 
 16 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 my suspicions and go to sleep, when weari- 
 ness overcame me, and I dropped into a 
 restless slumber. How long this continued 
 I can not tell ; but suddenly a hand glided 
 across my chest, pausing at the very spot 
 where the gold had been secreted. The 
 feat was accomplished with surprising dex- 
 terity, and, glacing in the direction from 
 which the hand came, I found myself gazing 
 into the same eyes that had peered in at 
 me from the half-opened door! But the 
 expression ! Never had I seen any thing so 
 fiendish — such a look of murderous deter- 
 mination. The left hand was at the gold, 
 while the right held a gleaming knife. I 
 felt that my hour had come. And yet it 
 was not the glittering blade that filled me 
 with horror, so much as the pitiless, demo- 
 niac expression of those eyes glaring from 
 out their deep sockets. The blood froze in
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 17 
 
 my veins. All power of resistance or of 
 motion was gone. I could even feel the 
 keen point of the knife entering my quiver- 
 ing flesh, before, with one last, desperate 
 effort, I succeeded in throwing off the death- 
 like stupor. Happily, that final effort availed, 
 and, raising myself in the attitude of re-^ 
 sistance, I awoke — awoke to hear my new 
 friend, who yet remained peaceably in bed, 
 make our room resound with certain nasal 
 sounds, which, if not as musical as one 
 could wish, were not just then wholly un- 
 welcome. 
 
 Morning dawned clear and beautiful, 
 showing a more preposessing face on the 
 person of my suspected room-mate. He 
 was from the good city of Hartford, Conn., 
 and, from motives similar to my own, had 
 secured, as he supposed, a state-room to 
 himself, and having the key to the only 
 2
 
 18 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 empty state-room^ — "forty-nine," — was as 
 much astonished at finding it occupied, as 
 I was at being intruded upon. 
 
 " But," said he, laughing, " I had no 
 objections to passing the night with you ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " I asked. 
 
 ^' Because I knew you to be an honest 
 man ! " 
 
 " Ah, how did you know that ? " 
 
 " From your anxiety to be alone.'*
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 19 
 
 DEATH ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 The long, terribly cold winter was nearly 
 over, when my hibernating was enlivened 
 by a caller, — a man of some note with 
 us, having traits which mark the frontier 
 chieftain. 
 
 Brave, and physically powerful, he some- 
 times takes the law into his own hands, and 
 settles quarrels. Not a few " new-country " 
 dififerences, of threatening aspect, have van 
 ished before his stalwart form. As when, 
 for example, a tempting " claim " was in 
 dispute, and the rival party had gathered in 
 force to drive the other away. Coolly lis- 
 tening to the altercation, he would espouse 
 the side he judged in the right, — perhaps
 
 20 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 the weaker ; then, laying aside his coat, 
 as their champion, offer to decide the case 
 by an appeal to muscular force, announcing 
 himself ready to meet " any three " of the 
 trespassers. But, however, the challenge 
 was not accepted. Whether the sight of 
 that huge fist excited fear, or conscience, 
 or both, it proved a potent pacificator. 
 
 He was also well read, — a fluent public 
 speaker, when once under way, and in de- 
 bate, an opponent not to be despised. A 
 politician, too, he had graced more than 
 one new State legislature. And though in 
 his early days in Maine he stood well as 
 a church-member, he was now, alas ! an 
 avowed skeptic ; — perhaps not a strange 
 sequence to years of migratory life in Cali- 
 fornia and the West. 
 
 Many a fine chat had Mr. B. and I en- 
 joyed together, seated before the ample
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 21 
 
 clay-stick-and-stoiie fireplace in his cabin, 
 as he solaced himself with his pipe of an 
 evening ; and though, at times, I pressed 
 home the claim^ of religion, he was not 
 offended, if not convinced. But this was 
 before the fierce wintery blockade had cut 
 off neighborly intercourse. 
 
 The object of his call was at once stated. 
 It appeared that, recently, having got out 
 of supplies, he had ventured to break a 
 
 road to M , a settlement eleven miles 
 
 distant, to buy flour and other stores. 
 While there, he heard that a lad, twelve 
 years of age, was frozen to death on the 
 prairie, the first of the season, and that the 
 parents were so deeply afflicted that it was 
 feared the mother's reason would be un- 
 settled. His sympathies being stirred, he 
 visited the sorrowing household to offer con- 
 solation. To his surprise, his words were
 
 22 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 powerless. Nothing he could say, however 
 kind or well-reasoned, reached their case ; 
 and, baffled, he saw they needed divine sym- 
 pathy, of which he could not speak. He 
 advised them, therefore, to call in a Chris- 
 tian minister. 
 
 Weepingly, they rejoined that they knew 
 not as there was one in all the region. 
 
 " There is one tarrying in my neighbor- 
 hood," he replied, " and I doubt not he 
 will cheerfully come, preach a funeral dis- 
 course at your house, and do all he can 
 for your peace of mind. 
 
 " And now," said he, after narrating the 
 above, " if you will set a time to go over, 
 I will carry them word, that they may 
 arrange for your coming, and give due no- 
 tice of the sermon." 
 
 It was with no little satisfaction that I 
 made the appointment. For what more ex-
 
 ON THE FRONTIEK. 23 
 
 alted privilege than to bear the balm of 
 the gospel to bleeding hearts ! Moreover, 
 the testimony my infidel friend had thus 
 unwittingly borne to Christianity, was ex- 
 ceedingly gratifying, and led me to hope 
 for his further enlightenment. 
 
 The day set for the services at M 
 
 dawned calm and clear, with a slight re- 
 lenting of the cold. A good brother had 
 offered the use of his handsome span and 
 a generous pair of " runners," and calling 
 for Mr. B., who, with a show of reluctance, 
 consented to accompany us, we set out. A 
 choir had been extemporized for the occa- 
 sion. It was composed of persons origi- 
 nally from various States and from Canada, 
 a miniature specimen of western society. 
 Strewing the bottom of the long pung with 
 clean straw, and taking our seats thereon, 
 the better to screen us from the sharp, frosty
 
 24 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 air, and carefully enveloped in blankets and 
 buflfalo robes, the ride was made quite com- 
 fortable. 
 
 "There's- the house!" said Mr. B., at 
 length, as we began to ascend a swell of 
 land, on which stood a pretty painted cot- 
 tage, reminding one of New England. On 
 the extended ridge grew the burr oak, with 
 almost the regularity of cultivation, — pro- 
 ducing the illusion that we were passing 
 through an eastern orchard. In the back- 
 ground were cleared fields, well fenced, and 
 the river belted with forest trees. It was 
 a charming place, and an exclamation of 
 delight broke from our company. One 
 glance assured us that this was the abode 
 of taste and thrift. The interest awakened 
 by exteriors was not lessened when I met 
 the inmates. Tlie master of the house im- 
 pressed me as a large-hearted, industrious
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 25 
 
 man in his business enterprises, and in social 
 relations kind and affectionate. His wife 
 and a married sister entered the room soon 
 after our arrival, neatly dressed in mourn- 
 ing ; the former pale and worn ; the gentle, 
 refined face of the latter, sad and sympa- 
 thizing. They were from Vermont, accus- 
 tomed to the best influences of that goodly 
 State, the stamp of which was indelibly 
 placed on them. 
 
 The story of the parent's sorrow was 
 heart-touching. 
 
 Judson, the son they mourned, was the 
 eldest of five children, — a child of promise ; 
 " the flower of the family," as the neigh- 
 bors expressed it. He had a mind mature 
 beyond his years, and was a dutiful son. 
 For some weeks before his decease, a change 
 had taken place in his health. Without 
 any known cause, his bodily strength wasted.
 
 26 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 And, on the subject of religion, his feelings 
 became tender and earnest. That ripemng 
 for the Reaper, by unearthly culture, some- 
 times witnessed in children, despite the most 
 unpropitious circumstances, just ere they 
 pass away, was his blessed experience. Deep 
 questions about God and Christ and Heaven 
 he revolved by himself. Questions of duty 
 he was often propounding to the parents' 
 slumbering consciences. His father had 
 been a consistent member of the church, 
 and faithful in family duties years before, 
 but in the absorbing cares of frontier life, 
 and the destitution of religious privileges, 
 becoming backslidden, he had forsaken the 
 family altar, and his conversation was utter- 
 ly worldly. The son, with shadows of eter- 
 nity deepening on his pathway, and the 
 Spirit gently leading him, became unhappy 
 in view of the parental shortcomings.
 
 ON THE FEONTIER. 27 
 
 With tearful, pleading eyes, he would often 
 say, " Oh, why don't father read the Bible 
 and have prayers as he used to, mother ? " 
 
 And the mother would ponder these things 
 in her heart. 
 
 One day an elk had been shot some three 
 miles out on the prairie, and a party were 
 going with a wagon to bring it in. Watson 
 Freeman, a companion of Judson's, and 
 two years his senior, was going with the 
 hunters, and Judson asked his mother's 
 permission to accompany him. Contrary to 
 her custom, for she watched over her idol 
 with jealous care, she gav^ her consent, 
 " scarcely knowing," as she told me, '* what 
 she said." The boys, as the team went 
 slowly, soon got out and followed on behind. 
 Excited by the expedition, they noticed not 
 that the horses were gradually leaving them, 
 till a great weariness fell on the more deli-
 
 28 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 cate of the two. He complained of being 
 too tired to walk, and his young friend 
 called to the men : •' Stop a moment and 
 let Judson get in. He's tired ! " 
 
 " Can't wait," replied the hunter ; " if he 
 wants to ride he must run and catch up ! " 
 
 The poor boy tried to rouse himself to 
 hasten, but in vain. 
 
 His companion, alarmed, entreated the 
 driver to w^ait, saying, '• Do stop, just a mo- 
 ment, Judson's so weak ! Do let him get 
 in ; he can't run a step ; he can scarcely 
 walk ! " 
 
 " Well, let him stay where he is, then ! " 
 was the rough answer. " If he's too much 
 of a baby to walk he ought to have staid 
 at home 1 " And quickly the wagon was 
 out of sight. 
 
 Meanwhile the cold increased. The sky 
 became overcast. And a snow-squall, such
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 29 
 
 as frequently sweeps the prairies of the 
 north-west in late autumn, set in. The 
 blinding flakes were whirled about with the 
 fury peculiar to the storm where the wind, 
 unobstructed, gathers mightiest force, and 
 the enfeebled boy felt a deathly chill strik- 
 ing to his vitals, and said, ** Watson, I'm 
 freezing to death ! " 
 
 His companion saw the danger, and, ex- 
 posing himself to the terrible air, as he took 
 off his own coat, and wrapped his friend in 
 it, he replied, cheerfully, " There ! that will 
 keep you warm, I guess. Now take hold 
 of my hand, and we'll go right home. I'll 
 help you all I can. I can find the way ! " 
 And, turning about, they started for the 
 settlement. 
 
 Those who have known, as I have, the 
 hardy pioneer to become bewildered and 
 lost close to his own dwelling, when over-
 
 30 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 taken by one of those violent tornado-like 
 storms, his cries for help drowned in the 
 roar of the tempest, will understand the 
 'nature of the task which that brave young 
 heart proposed to itself. 
 
 An instance of the kind occurred about 
 the time of the event I am relating. A 
 settler, experienced in frontier life, had gone 
 to attend to his cattle, which were yarded 
 in a temporary rail enclosure, a few rods 
 from his cabin. While busied there, sud- 
 denly the dusky win£3 of the snow-tempest 
 obscured the heavens. Hastily finishing his 
 task, he started for home. Already every 
 object was hidden in the awful gloom, and 
 how the maddened gusts charged upon, 
 and smote and baffled him ! — pelting him 
 with the cruel sleet ; filling eyes and nos- 
 trils, nay, almost burying him with the 
 driving drifts. The sharp coldness cut to
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 31 
 
 the bones. The whole air was in commo- 
 tion, — hissing, howling, wailing, groaning. 
 Downward rushed the heavy snow-clouds, 
 upward shot opposing columns, with sur- 
 prising speed and strength ; from every 
 quarter to every quarter the whirlwind 
 hurled the swift moving flakes. He had 
 cleared forests in Michigan, and conquered 
 hardships in prairie-land, but now the 
 strong man was at his wit's end ; hoping 
 each moment, as he was tossed about in 
 the mighty tumult, to reach his destination, 
 only to be perplexed in his disappointment. 
 Meanwhile, the families at home — for two 
 occupied the dwelling — had become alarmed 
 for him. Two stout men set off for his 
 rescue, shouting his name. They returned, 
 unable to cope with the rage of the ele- 
 ments. Getting their guns, they made an- 
 other attempt. The report of the firearms
 
 32 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 reached the lost man's ear. He had been 
 whirled about near the locality from whence 
 he had started : and when the sound of 
 the gun reached him, in his bewilderment, 
 he was going directly out to the solitudes 
 of the prairie. A moment more and he 
 would have been beyond recovery. 
 
 It was a mile and a half to the nearest 
 dwelling, and they had gone only a few 
 rods, when Watson perceived his playmate 
 could proceed no further, and, with a hero- 
 ism beyond his years, he took him on his 
 back and bore him on, on ; the raging winds 
 disputing the way, and the snow beating 
 against him pitilessly. 
 
 Three quarters of a mile — the neighbors 
 afterward estimated — did that noble boy 
 carry his precious burden, nerved to strange 
 strength by the love that was in his heart, 
 and the consciousness that life or death
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 33 
 
 hung on the issue. But the hands about 
 his neck relaxed their hold, and his own 
 step faltered ; so, coming to a lonely oak, 
 he leaned his charge against it, and cover- 
 ing him up carefully with the over-garment, 
 bidding him not to be afraid, fled for help. 
 
 As soon as possible, he returned with a 
 wagon, accompanied by its owner and a 
 neighbor. By the side of the tree they 
 found him, covered with a fleecy robe, sitting 
 there still and silent, a faint trembling of 
 the pulse was all that told that life was not 
 extinct. What had been his thoughts there 
 alone amid th'e wild storm ; what the tena- 
 city with which his young heart clung to 
 life, — the yearnings for father, mother, 
 little brothers ; what the agonized soul-cries 
 that ascended above the voices of the tem- 
 pest, piercing heaven, or what visions of 
 angel ministrants strengthening him in the 
 3
 
 34 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 last conscious struggle, there was none to 
 tell. He was speechless. Laying him gen- 
 tly in the vehicle, they drove for his home. 
 Bursting open the door, they bore the child 
 in, — rash, kind men ! Judson was dead ! 
 Not an intimation had the parents received 
 that evil had befallen their son, since a few 
 short hours before he had gone forth in his 
 young joy. The blow fell with stunning 
 force, it was so sudden, so unexpected ; and 
 while the father was sorely stricken, the 
 mother mourned in an agony that " refused 
 to be comforted." 
 
 "■ Oh, that he had been taken away from 
 before our eyes by disease, then we might 
 have been prepared for it!" she exclaimed. 
 *' But to have him perish all alone, with no 
 one near to speak to, no one by to soothe 
 his last moments ! Left, too, so brutally by 
 neighbors who, if they had been at all hu
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 35 
 
 mane, might have saved him from such a 
 fate. And to bury him without a minister 
 of the gospel to speak to us from God's 
 word, and offer prayer, it was so revolting, 
 so dreadful ! '^ 
 
 " Did you have no funeral service ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes ; but it was so different from what 
 we needed, and from what we had been 
 accustomed to. We were told that a settler, 
 three miles from here, a smart capable man, 
 was a preacher. And, although he was a 
 Universalist, rather than have none of the 
 offices appropriate to such an event, my hus- 
 band invited him to officiate. He made 
 some remarks, but did not pray, saying he 
 was not used to praying. And so my boy 
 was buried ! We have never felt right 
 about that funeral, and when I heard of 
 you, I felt so glad ! I have not heard a
 
 36 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 sermon for more than two years, yet I prize 
 such privileges." 
 
 But silently the neighbors had assembled 
 from miles around, some on foot, more in 
 ox-teams. The rooms were crowded with 
 an intelligent, strongly-marked audience, 
 decorous and sympathizing. A deep hush 
 was over all as I read those solemn, sweetly- 
 consoling passages in the Bible that lead 
 the thoughts from the perishable to the 
 unchangeable, and reveal the life to come. 
 How wondrously significant were they in 
 that grief-shadowed, pioneer home ! And 
 how touching the oft-sung hymn, — 
 
 ««Thus fades the lovely, blooming flower, 
 Frail, smiling solace of an hour ! " 
 
 Never, however, had I read those fine words 
 of Cowper with such effect : —
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 37 
 
 <« God moves in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform ; 
 He plants his footsteps on the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm." 
 
 And I felt impressed to say, alluding to the 
 providential and gracious preparation of the 
 lad for the sudden coming of the messenger, 
 that, if the bereaved would seek grace to 
 look away from secondary causes up to the 
 great First Cause, confiding in his wisdom 
 and love, I felt confident they would yet see 
 proofs of a kind design in their affliction, 
 and learn that by it God intended signal 
 good to themselves and others ; a remark 
 which subsequent events justified. But I 
 will not anticipate. 
 
 The mother's sorrowful face haunted me 
 all the way during the ride back. Few 
 words were spoken by our little company, 
 before so companionable. The gloom of 
 the death-room was on us all. The very
 
 38 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 landscape seemed in unison with the scene 
 we had left, as it stretched away to the 
 horizon, smooth and treeless, wrapped in 
 its fleecy shroud. As I glanced athwart the 
 long, dull level, I thought of the races that 
 once held possession here, now gone. What 
 was that great solitude but a vast city of 
 the dead, without a memento ? Only one 
 living thing appeared as far as the eye could 
 reach. On a gently swelling mound near 
 by, scarcely distinguishable, in its garb of 
 pure white, from the snowy hillock, sat a 
 large Arctic bird (^strix nyctea). Natural- 
 ists say that nearly all the notes of birds 
 are plaintive. With a moaning scream, like 
 one in distress, the bird soared over us, his 
 eagle size and swan-like plumage adding 
 majesty to his lonely flight. The whole 
 was in unison with the sad emotions that 
 ruled our hearts.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 39 
 
 " I thank you for calling for me," said my 
 infidel friend, as he stepped out of the sleigh 
 at his gate. 
 
 " And I thank you^^^ I replied, " for open- 
 ing the way for Christian labor on behalf of 
 that afflicted family. If it benefits them, 
 you brought it about. And my prayer is, 
 that it may do us all good ! '* 
 
 "I hope it may," he rejoined, with a 
 tremulous voice, as he entered his door. 
 
 The driver was not so much to blame as 
 at first appeared. He did not realize that 
 the boy was so feeble. Many kind-hearted 
 people, blessed with health, cannot be made 
 to understand the condition of those less 
 favored in this regard. How often the in- 
 curably diseased, suffering indescribable hor- 
 rors, subjected to the slow-wasting power 
 of some chronic complaint, are contemptu- 
 ously treated by those who might cheer their
 
 40 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 gloom and soften their hard lot. Ah ! dear 
 reader, let us never be wanting in tenderest 
 sympathy toward the frail, sensitive invalid, 
 soon perhaps to be hidden from our sight 
 by the clinging turf.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 41 
 
 GOING FOR LUMBER. 
 
 Autumn's breath was growing frosty, re- 
 minding us that Winter was on his way, 
 and our house was still unfinished ; the 
 floors were yet to be laid, and the roof 
 boarded and shingled. The neighbor who 
 volunteered to '^ draw the minister's lum- 
 ber," had taken long journeys with that 
 object in view, but witliout accomplishing 
 his purpose, for the mills could not supply 
 the demand, so great had been the immi- 
 gration. So I resolved to go for it myself. 
 
 But every thing available, biped and 
 quadruped, was over-busy, and as I had no 
 " team," a further delay seemed inevitable, 
 when relief came from an unexpected quar-
 
 42 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 ter. A Xorwegian — a semi-Americanized, 
 good man, hearing of my situation, called 
 to offer the use of his cattle. He had them 
 with him, a yoke of young, sharp-horned 
 brindles, trim and muscular, with bright, 
 undaunted eyes. 
 
 Now, within the year, I had landed, an 
 invalid, in Minnesota. Forbidden, by my 
 physicians, to preach for at least two years, 
 I had, after the first few weeks, farmed, 
 carpentered, felled trees, split rails, quarried 
 stone, practiced medicine, taught school, 
 &c., besides performing usual Sabbath labor. 
 Having resolved to " take things by the 
 smooth handle," I had found no little hap- 
 piness in my many-sided life, but the pros- 
 pect of a long journey with oxen did not 
 look attractive I confess. 
 
 '' Why, my friend," said I to tlie Nor- 
 wegian, " it is twenty-seven miles to the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 43 
 
 nearest mill ! I haven't patience to go that 
 distance with cattle, they are so slow." 
 
 " Mine are fast enough," he replied. 
 " I will match them against the best horses 
 about here. I always trot them when they 
 haven't a heavy load. You'll find them 
 nimble, I'll warrant ! " 
 
 It was no time to be finical, and I asked, 
 " When can I have them ? " 
 
 " To-night," said he. " I . will leave 
 them here and walk home. It is only six 
 miles ! " 
 
 The wagon-body was weak, and he re- 
 quested that I procure another. I obtained 
 one at last ; an unwieldy affair, so heavy 
 that three of us found it something of a 
 task to adjust it to the wheels — a veritable 
 Pennsylvanian — long enough, as they of 
 the Quaker State say, " to reach from one 
 mud-hole to the next."
 
 4-i ON THE FUONTIER. 
 
 The next morning 1 had mounted to the 
 board seat, with my long teamster's whip, 
 when a gentle voice called from the door, — 
 
 " Bring the wagon back safely if you 
 can ! " 
 
 The musical little laugh that accom- 
 panied this sally had something of fore- 
 boding in it. 
 
 For a while the path lay across prairie 
 solitudes, unrelieved, save by a lively diver- 
 gence now and then by the cattle, made in 
 the spirit of mischief. Often, too, a " prairie 
 hen " would run on before the team, keep- 
 ing a few feet ahead, then fly off, with a 
 whirring sound, into the long grass. 
 
 Seven miles, and " Slougli Creek " was 
 reached — a willow- fringed, bridgeless stream. 
 Aligliting, I was calculating, by the aid of 
 a long pole, the depth of water and mud, 
 and the steepness of the banks, when I was
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 45 
 
 forced to run for the wagon, and managed 
 to jump in behind, just as it was going into 
 the gulf, for the brindles had concluded 
 to wait no longer. Down we went, with a 
 plunge and a shock, and up the other side 
 at a round trot, the freakish creatures 
 keeping on, in spite of me, across a level 
 meadow, through a bristling array of black- 
 berry and other bushes, to a log house. 
 There they stopped. I got out to turn them 
 into the path again, but they ran round and 
 round the cabin. In a few moments a 
 woman came out, and comprehending my 
 trouble, seized the whip, and laying the 
 lash on with her brawny arm, soon brought 
 the cattle into subjection. They suffered 
 her to guide them into the road. She dis- 
 appeared, as I thanked her in pantomime — 
 for she was a Norwegian, as unable to speak 
 my language as I liers, and the brindles
 
 46 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 would not act as interpreters, yet that they 
 understood her perfectly, and my English 
 somewhat, I could not doubt. 
 
 It was once more " smooth sailing," and 
 as the beasts behayed for a time with ex- 
 emplary steadiness, for want of something 
 else to do I fell to reconsidering the figure 
 I had just cut, and trying to comprehend 
 the character and qualities of my horned 
 steeds. What sagacity they showed in 
 choice of opportunity when about to execute 
 a wild prank ! how ungovernable they be- 
 came toward me, yet obedient to a woman's 
 voice and hand ! I at once recalled a humor- 
 ous description I had read of pig-driving in 
 Ireland. The writer says, wittily, there was 
 in Ireland an old breed of swine, which is 
 now nearly extinct, except in some remote 
 parts of the country, where they are still 
 useful in the hunting season, particularly
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 47 
 
 if dogs happen to be scarce. (He assures 
 John Bull, on the authority of Phil Purcel, 
 pig-driver, that this is a fact.) They were 
 a tall, loose species, with legs of an unusual 
 length, with no flesh, short ears, as if they 
 had been cropped for sedition, and with long 
 faces of a highly intellectual cast. They 
 were also of such activity that few grey- 
 hounds could clear a ditch or cross a field 
 with more agility. Their backs formed a 
 rainbow arch, capable of being contracted 
 or extended to an inconceivable degree ; 
 and their usual rate of travelling in droves 
 was at mail-coach speed, or six Irish miles 
 an hour, preceded by an outrider to clear 
 the way, whilst their rear was brought up by 
 another horseman, going at a three-quarter 
 gallop 1 In the middle of summer, when 
 all Nature reposed under the united influ- 
 ence of heat and dust, it was an interesting
 
 48 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 sight to witness a drove of them sweeping 
 past, like a whirlwind, in a cloud of their 
 own raising ; their sharp and lengthy out- 
 iines dimly visible through the shining haze, 
 like a flock of antelopes crossing the deserts 
 of the East. Their patriotism, also, as evinced 
 in an attachment to the land of their birth 
 and Irish habits, was scarcely more remark- 
 able than their sagacity. There was not, 
 the distinguished author assures us, an an- 
 tiquarian among that learned and useful 
 body, the Irish Academy, who could boast 
 such an intimate knowledge of the Irish lan- 
 guage, in all its shades of meaning and idio- 
 matic beauty, as did this once flourishing 
 class of animals. Not that they were con- 
 fined to the Irish tongue, many of them un- 
 derstood English too ; and it was said of 
 those that belonged to a convent, the mem- 
 bers of which, in their intercourse with
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 49 
 
 each other, spoke only in Latin, that they 
 were tolerable masters of that language, 
 and refused to leave a potato field, or plot 
 of cabbages, except when addressed in it. 
 To the English tongue, however, they had 
 a deep-rooted antipathy ; whether proceed- 
 ing from the national feeling, or the fact 
 of its not being sufficiently guttural, is not 
 affirmed ; be this as it may, says the writer 
 referred to, it must be admitted that they 
 were excellent Irish scholars, and paid a 
 surprising degree of deference and obedi- 
 ence to whatever was addressed to them in 
 their own language. For a critical knowl- 
 edge of their native tongue they were un- 
 rivalled by the most learned pigs or anti- 
 quarians of their day ; none of either class 
 possessing, at that period, such a knowledge 
 of Irish manners, nor so keen a sagacity 
 in tracing out Irish roots. 
 4
 
 60 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 I was adjusting this description, hyperbole 
 and all, to my case, substituting cattle for 
 swine, and Norwegian for Irish, when my 
 coniparisons were brought to a pause. We 
 had entered primitive forests, belting a river 
 which flowed through loftily rounded bluffs. 
 From the edge of the woods I could see that 
 the road wound down among the trees by a 
 long, yet rapid descent, often making a curve 
 to avoid a stump, rock, or tree. So I took 
 my place by the cattle, resting my whip 
 across their faces, to check undue speed ; 
 but soon, with an impetuous charge, away 
 they went, the axles frequently grazing the 
 oaks, the heavy vehicle imparting dangerous 
 momentum, till, dashing through the shal- 
 low stream, as tliey could not fly up the 
 opposite bluff*, I overtook them. 
 
 My attention was now called to a pecul- 
 iarity in the road. "We had ascended
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 61 
 
 gradually, till we were crossing bare rock 
 at a suspicious angle, and still the way grew 
 steep. Thinking I must have missed the 
 path, and that a track I saw a few moments 
 before might be the true one, I stopped the 
 cattle and hastened to examine it, with a 
 frequent " whoa ! " The result showed that 
 we were on the right road. Returning, I 
 found that the cattle, with a quick move- 
 ment, had gained the apex of the hill, and 
 there they stood, ranged along the verge of 
 a precipice of at least one hundred and fifty 
 feet ! The slightest false movement might 
 send them over. As carefully as possible, I 
 turned them down to the road again, — and 
 they were models of docility the while, — but 
 the instant it was done, they wheeled about, 
 throwing the vehicle completely over, and 
 steamed toward home, leaving the wagon- 
 body on the side of the rock, and further
 
 62 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 down the hind wheels ; and recrossing the 
 river, they sped up the other declivity, while 
 I shouted most despairingly after them. By 
 taking a bee line, however, I succeeded in 
 Tjoming out in front of them before they 
 emerged upon the smooth prairie. Then, 
 there was the righting of the front wheels, 
 the attaching of the others, the guiding of 
 the perverse animals up the bluff to the 
 ponderous wagon-body. Where should I get 
 help to replace it, in that lonely place, sel- 
 dom trodden by human foot ? I felt that 
 this was an extremity, and for a moment 
 could do nothing but pray. Then I looked 
 up the winding path I had come, hoping 
 to see some friendly face. None appeared. 
 Meanwhile the cattle were restless. So, 
 summoning all my energy, — the energy of 
 desperation, — to my own wonder, I raised 
 the huge wreck from its resting-place and
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 53 
 
 adjusted it to the wheels, and in due time 
 reached the mill village. 
 
 " Have you any lumber ? " I asked of 
 the mill owner. 
 
 " No ; I let the last go this morning," he 
 
 replied. " A man was here from L , and 
 
 said he must have some for his own house 
 and some for his minister's. I let him have 
 a few boards to keep him from suffering, 
 though I needed them myself. Perhaps you 
 
 are the minister from L ? Well, I 
 
 thought likely. But I haven't a chip left. 
 Which way did you come ? " 
 
 " Across R River, through the 
 
 woods." 
 
 " No wonder you've been cast away ; 
 it's a terrible road. Let me advise you to 
 take the other route going back ; it will 
 be prairie mostly, and though further, will 
 be easier."
 
 64 ON THE FRONTIER., 
 
 "I shall do so. But what is that?'' 
 I asked, as my eyes rested on the end of a 
 board protruding from a mass of timber. 
 
 " Well, that does look like a board," said 
 the easy proprietor, " but it would be a job 
 to get it out." 
 
 And he turned away, while I turned over 
 the oak timber till I had obtained more of a 
 supply than the neighbor that preceded me. 
 
 " Six miles to the Norwegian," said the 
 mill man, as I was starting off. " You had 
 better inquire the way of him, as the road 
 is a blind one, and he knows all about it." 
 
 The afternoon was half gone, but I hoped 
 
 to reach a settlement on R River, and 
 
 spend the night there. But the chapter of 
 accidents was not full. As I was ascending 
 from the low village plot, the pins that held 
 the bows in the yokes dropped out in con- 
 cert, as if in memory of past joltings, let-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 55 
 
 ting the cattle free ; of which casualty, 
 they were not slow to take advantage, scam- 
 pering off like wild buffaloes. In vain I 
 used all the arts of which I was master, 
 seeking to coax, surprise, or drive them into 
 the bows again, which I bore with me for 
 the purpose. If for a moment they stopped 
 to graze, it was with one eye on me, ready 
 to spring away at my approach. Help ap- 
 peared, however, in the person of a map 
 agent, just from New England, having left 
 college, and come West for his health. He 
 recognized me at a distance, and filled with 
 compassion, hastened to the rescue as fast as 
 his lame leg, made stiff by a rheumatic 
 affection, would permit. The scene now 
 became ludicrous in the extreme, and I 
 laughed till the tears came, at my own 
 plight and the figure my earnest friend cut, 
 dragging his troublesome limb after him, as
 
 56 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 he tried to head the cattle. Farm bred, the 
 crook of his arm and his intonations were 
 rural, to perfection, but, as if aware of his 
 infirmity, the wily brutes would wait his 
 coming, and then, just in the nick of time, 
 shake their heads and dart by. 
 
 More effective aid was rendered when an 
 emigrant wagon appeared. Its inmates, 
 scattering over the plain, proved too much 
 for brindles, and they were captured, and 
 the wooden pins that, with a borrowed axe, 
 I had made meantime, were driven into the 
 bows with an emphasis, that said, " Stay 
 there ! " 
 
 Twilight overtook me crossing a succes- 
 sion of sharply-defined ridges, black as Ere- 
 bus, for the prairie fires had just swept over 
 them. Wagon tracks diverged on either 
 hand, and when darkness fell, — and it was 
 " pitchy dark," — I soon lost my way, and
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 57 
 
 there seemed before me the only alternative 
 of passing the night where I was. The tent- 
 like clouds lifted slightly, and stopping the 
 team,*I was considering what to do, when I 
 saw something white moving along. It 
 proved to be a man in shirt sleeves. 
 
 " Halloo ! " I shouted, and he came 
 nearer. " Can you tell me where the Nor- 
 wegian lives ? " 
 
 " An' it's about a mile an' a quarter, 
 kaping the ravine to the second right hand 
 road, thin kape to the lift apiece, an' ye'll 
 come to it. But do ye know the way at all, 
 at all?" 
 
 " Never was here before." 
 " Thin ye can niver find it, sure ! " 
 " Not unless you will show me the 
 way." 
 
 " Indade an' I can't ! Fur yer see I'm 
 in me shirt sleeves, an' I've been shakin'
 
 58 ON THE FROxNTIER. 
 
 with the ager, an' the night air '11 bring it 
 on agin. I wouldn't have exposed meself, 
 but me cattle have strayed off." 
 
 " Oh, they will be found, no doubt ! " 
 
 " But the neighbors up here have their 
 turnips out, and they swear they'll shoot 
 me cattle if they git at the turnips, an' as 
 there's no fence they'll be sure an' do it, an' 
 me oxen will be kilt intirely ! " 
 
 " But, friend, you see how it is. I'm lost, 
 and you can help me. My cattle are swift ; 
 it won't take long to drive to the Norwe- 
 gian's, so don't leave me here ! " 
 
 "An' sure it's not Pat O'Connor that'll 
 do the likes o' that ! " said he, touched by 
 the urgency of my appeal. And springing 
 to the seat, and applying the whip, the 
 heavy team rumbled along over the rough- 
 nesses, now leaning to one side, now to the 
 other, then ascending a rise of ground,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 59 
 
 then diving down the other side. Soon it 
 stopped, and the driver jumped out, saying, 
 cheerily, — 
 
 " Here's the place ! Jist mind the cattle, 
 an' I'll stip over and inquire the way for 
 yer — it's bad gittin' to the house for stran- 
 gers." 
 
 After a few moments he returned, saying, 
 angrily, "Bad luck to 'em! The cabin is 
 full of Norwegians, for they've had a raisin', 
 an' they're all drunk as bastes, an' fightin' 
 like Injuns, an' niver a word can I git out o' 
 them. Sure, an' I don't know what I can 
 do fur ye now. 'Twouldn't be safe for the 
 likes o' ye to go with me, fur thim Irishmen 
 are bad enough for any thing, an' it wouldn't 
 do fur the drunken bastes in the house yon- 
 der to know ye're about. But good luck to 
 ye, I must go." 
 
 Some months before, I had come across
 
 60 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 an English family, living, I now thought, in 
 that vicinity, and I asked, " Is there an 
 Englishman living near here ? " 
 
 " And is his cabin in a fine grove ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " An' has he grass land on the south, 
 an' jist before his door a dozen acres of 
 ' breakin' ' that's not finced ? " 
 
 "That's the man." 
 
 " Faith, an' he lives only a mile and a 
 half from here ! " 
 
 " Can you drive me there ? " 
 
 " Sure, an' I wouldn't do it for all the 
 goold in Californy ; for it's meself that isn't 
 well, an' me cattle '11 be murthered before I 
 can git back ! " 
 
 " But," said I, strongly, " you must do it. 
 I can't lie out on the prairie. I don't think 
 your cattle will be any safer for leaving me 
 here."
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 61 
 
 " Are you a minister ? " he asked. ^ 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Instantly he was aboard again, and there 
 was something of reverence in his tone, as he 
 said, " I wouldn't go with ye fur money ; 
 but — but — I'll not lave ye now." 
 
 It was past ten o'clock when the grove- 
 shaded cabin rose to view. My guide 
 hurried to arouse the occupants while I 
 " minded " the cattle. 
 
 " Hilloo there ! wake up ! " he shouted, 
 as he thumped at the door. " An' ould ac- 
 quaintince has lost his way, an' wants a 
 shilter. Wake up, I say, and not be slapin' 
 like heathin, when a frind is frazin' in the 
 cowld ! " 
 
 A door swung cautiously ajar ; there was 
 a hum of voices, and the Irishman returned, 
 saying, — 
 
 "It's all right with ye, an' I'll bid ye
 
 62 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 good-bye ! " extending Ins hand. Then, as 
 the well-earned guerdon touched the palm, 
 " Sure an' ye don't think I came for pay I " 
 and warm-hearted Erin disappeared as mine 
 host came up. But like the Dutchman, who, 
 after a scene of pathos over his lost " poy " 
 restored, found that it was not his " poy," 
 so this Englishman was not my Englishman. 
 On explaining the mistake, however, he 
 said, — 
 
 " Never mind, I shan't fret if you 
 don't." 
 
 The dwelling proved to be one of those 
 wretched loggeries that, happily, form an 
 exception to the social habits of the region. 
 The inmates were as uncultured as tlieir 
 shanty was rude. The one room contained 
 five beds, one without a stead, while a dirty 
 cooking-stove stood in the center. The 
 floor was " trunclieon," roughly hewed. A
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 63 
 
 hole in the wall served for windows. Size 
 should set off grace or goodness. The huge 
 wife could scarcely lay claim to an excess 
 of the latter. Then there was a grown-up 
 daughter, whose chief accomplishment 
 seemed to be the incessant using of the floor 
 for a pocket handkerchief. Having dressed 
 themselves, both dame and daughter sat 
 down to ask questions, and pare potatoes 
 for the next meal. 
 
 " Can you give me some water ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 A rusty dipper, filled with a dubious im- 
 itation of that beverage, was passed with 
 this caution, " Look out for the wrigglers ! 
 I always blow before drinking ! " 
 
 Having satisfied the appetite for news, 
 the husband said, — 
 
 " Well, old woman, perhaps the stranger 
 would like to go to bed ! " At which mother
 
 64 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 and daughter began to disrobe, so I stepped 
 out a while. On reentering, I was little 
 relieved to find they had retired, for their 
 bed faced the one I was to share with the 
 man, and with heads propped up against 
 the wall, thej eyed me with much interest. 
 This was not at all molified, when the 
 sire observed, — 
 
 " You can turn in as soon as you 
 please ; '* while, from politeness, I suppose, 
 he waited for me to retire first, keeping the 
 candle burning on a trunk at the head of 
 the bed. Hoping the gazers would weary 
 of their mood, and he of his, that I might 
 extinguish the candle, I went out again. 
 But when I returned, landlord was still up, 
 and the feminines not a bit sleepy, so, " do- 
 ing as the Romans do," by an ingenious 
 gymnastic feat, I was quickly hidden be- 
 neath the coverlids, while my new friend
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 65 
 
 laid aside his garments at leisure, got slowly 
 into bed, pulled up tlie covering, turned 
 over, and blew out the light ! 
 
 A silver ray streaming through the aper- 
 ture in the logs opposite, woke me, and 
 rising, I saw that it was the morning star 
 peeping in at our repose. 
 
 "You are not going now!" exclaimed 
 mine host, rubbing open his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I make such slow progress I must 
 be off in season ! " 
 
 "Won't you stop and eat a mouthful 
 first?" 
 
 " No, I thank you. But if you will yoke 
 the cattle, and tell me about the road, I 
 shall be much obliged." 
 
 The directions were not over clear, and 
 
 the prairie did not lack in wagon-tracks, 
 
 and, as might be expected, some miles were 
 
 added to those really necessary in order to 
 
 5
 
 66 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 reach the settlement at which I was to tarry 
 for business and refreshment. The stay 
 here was much delayed. A debtor pro- 
 posed to settle his long-standing account 
 by letting me have a cow. The offer might 
 not be made again. 
 
 " Is she near by ? " I asked. 
 
 " 0, yes ; just down by the fence there. 
 'Twill take but a moment to find her." 
 
 The moment was full two hours ere she 
 was secured, and attached to the team. 
 Then an estimable lady teacher wished to 
 
 ride over with me to L , and there was 
 
 further waiting for " big box, little box, 
 band-box, and bundle." Mooly, picture of 
 meekness that she was, when we were a 
 couple of miles from her accustomed pastur- 
 age, slipped her rope, and rapidly retraced 
 her steps. Her homesickness met with no 
 indulgence, however, for she was chased
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 67 
 
 down and led captive back, which she 
 retaliated by causing us innumerable vexa- 
 tions, keeping one or the other of us hu- 
 mans watching her, lest her horns became 
 entangled in the wheels, or to urge her 
 on when she held back at the risk of 
 her neck, when the locomotives from Nor- 
 way had an attack of the capers. Despite 
 every exertion, night fell while yet we were 
 some miles from home, bringing with it, 
 what is rarely seen in Minnesota, a dense 
 fog, obscuring the stars, and hiding the sur- 
 face of the country beneath its misty vail. 
 An uninhabited tract of burr-oaks and hazel- 
 bushes was yet to be passed. The dim and 
 tortuous path was soon lost, and we were 
 wildly beating about to strike it again. 
 At length the wheels run smoothly. 
 
 " It is the road," said I ; '* our wander- 
 ings will soon be over ! " But immediately
 
 68 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 thereafter the cattle stopped, and refused 
 to proceed. Passing quickly to their side, 
 how thankful I was for their obstinacy. 
 They stood on the steep bank of tlie Iowa, 
 facing the water. The flowing current re- 
 vealed our course, however, and ere long 
 we reached our destination. 
 
 My arrival was greeted with a merrier 
 laugh than that which celebrated my de- 
 parture. The sight, no doubt, was mirth- 
 provoking as our procession passed before 
 the door. Ragged and soiled, with a mam- 
 moth squash, which I had bought of my 
 English friend, crowning the load, the cow 
 tied behind the team ; the lady teacher, 
 who, unfortunately, had been obliged to 
 walk most of the way, to attend to the 
 manners of the turbulent cow, bringing up 
 the rear ; — the show, it appeared, was worth 
 the trouble of standing, lamp in hand, to 
 witness it.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 69 
 
 As for the lumber, it did double duty ; 
 not only keeping the winds at bay, but in 
 the gloomiest weather suggesting memories, 
 which had a most enlivening influence on 
 our household.
 
 10 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 LIGHT FOR THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 One fine, spring morning, snch as Min- 
 nesotians rejoice in, services had just com- 
 menced in our little sanctuary, when two 
 strangers entered. One of them I soon rec- 
 ognized as Mr. L., whose son Judson had 
 perished from cold on the prairie. Himself 
 and friend, — a most exemplary Christian, as 
 I afterward found, — having no preaching 
 in their settlement, had walked eleven miles 
 to attend our meeting. As they were re- 
 turning at night, I accompanied them a 
 short distance for religious conversation. 
 
 Their presence had a wider significance 
 than I had supposed. Mr. L. said that the 
 funeral services of his hoy Judson had
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 71 
 
 awakened a general wish for preaching ; 
 and hearing that I was not engaged, the 
 
 settlers at L were anxious that I should 
 
 locate with them. 
 
 " We want the gospel," he said, with 
 Western frankness, " and we don't mean to 
 steal it either ! " Then followed consider- 
 ations tending to show that the speaker, 
 and those he represented, were in earnest. 
 
 Visits to L convinced me that it was 
 
 a promising field of effort, and I did not 
 feel at liberty to " decline the call," though 
 previously I had scarcely determined 
 whether to remain West or not. Accepting 
 the generous hospitality of Mr. L., I became 
 an inmate of his household, until the arrival 
 of my family from the east. The shadow 
 of their great sorrow still rested on them, 
 stimulating in me desire for their spiritual 
 good.
 
 72 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 One member of the family, especially, 
 excited interest. They called her aunt 
 Flora. She was over sixty, stout and ro- 
 bust ; her plain, almost repulsive coun- 
 tenance, wearing ever a sullen, imbittered 
 expression. A more hopeless, forbidding 
 face one rarely sees. She had also this 
 peculiarity. She uniformly absented her- 
 self from our devotions, and if in the room 
 when the hour of prayer arrived, would 
 immediately leave till the exercises were 
 over. I supposed, for a time, that some 
 labor called her away, and wondered that 
 domestic arrangements were not such as 
 to permit her to remain. 
 
 " I do not get acquainted with aunt 
 Flora," I said to Mrs. L. one day. 
 
 " No, I suppose not," she answered. 
 
 " Is she a professor of religion ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ; she hates religion," was
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 73 
 
 the intense reply. "I do not think she 
 has read a word in the Bible or attended 
 church since she was a child. You have 
 noticed she is never present at family 
 prayers ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I thought perhaps some duty 
 made her absence necessary." 
 
 " Oh, no, she will not stay. No one 
 can induce her to ; it has been often tried, 
 but in vain." 
 
 " What a pity ! And she looks so un- 
 happy. We must pj-ay and labor for her; 
 perhaps God will soften her heart, and lead 
 her to peace." 
 
 "You would not speak thus," was the 
 decided rejoinder, " if you knew aunt 
 Flora's history. I have no hope that she 
 will ever be a different woman. She has 
 for years been the bitterest enemy to the 
 Bible and to Christians that I ever saw."
 
 74 ON THE FEONTIER. 
 
 " But," I interposed, " how often were 
 the vilest outcasts brought in under the 
 Saviour's ministry ! — the lowest, most aban- 
 doned, as well as the fiercest opposers. 
 How the grace of Christ was magnified 
 when he saved Zaccheus and Mary Mag- 
 dalene ; and met Saul of Tarsus, and made 
 him a ' chosen vessel.' '* 
 
 " Well, you can try," she replied ; " but 
 you will be disappointed. If you knew 
 aunt Flora as I do, you would not at- 
 tempt it." 
 
 Alas ! how often the nearest relatives are 
 least hopeful concerning the starving prodi- 
 gal ! How prone we are, from very abhor- 
 rence of sin, to walk in the steps of Simon 
 the Pharisee ! 
 
 My sympathy for the unhappy woman 
 deepened as discouragements were pre- 
 sented, and no public duties were able to
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 75 
 
 take my thoughts long from her. The 
 labor I was engaged in was absorbing and 
 rich in encouragement. It was so novel 
 in many respects, so different from the 
 stereotype customs of the East, that I could 
 not but be interested ; — a young town 
 rising in the verge of civilization ; prairies 
 being farmed and fenced ; immigration, with 
 its ceaseless tramp, tramp ; its unbroken 
 line of white-topped wagons, bringing in 
 additions from almost every quarter of the 
 world, all eager for the treasure that per- 
 isheth. And this great flock, scattered 
 abroad as sheep witliout a shepherd, must 
 hear and accept the " great salvation," or 
 be lost forever. The reflection was full 
 of incentive. 
 
 Our congregation offered a singular scene. 
 In garb, what variety ! From the well- 
 dressed merchant, just from the East, to
 
 76 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 the shoemaker in blue overalls and shirt 
 sleeves. From the dashing belle, late from 
 the .metropolis, to the unadorned wife of 
 the backwoodsman. In opinion, too, how 
 diverse, — Baptists, Methodists, Congrega- 
 tionalists, Presbyterians, Dutch Reformed, 
 Episcopalians, Adventists, Christians, Lu- 
 therans, Campbellites, Universalists, Spirit- 
 ualists, Mormons, — many of them sturdy 
 thinkers, with mind and body invigorated 
 by hardships overcome, and a climate itself 
 a tonic. Gray-haired sires were there, and 
 infants in their mothers' arms. In those 
 assemblages there was nothing sickly or 
 effeminate ; no one could look on those 
 strongly-marked, thoughtful faces, without 
 emotions of respect. 
 
 But the work went pleasingly forward, 
 and again and again the congregation re- 
 moved to more commodious quarters. And
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 77 
 
 from grove, ravine, and prairie the settlers 
 poured forth, thronging in our place of 
 worship on the Sabbath. Then the Sunday 
 school was organized, with officers and 
 teachers from various States, and its large 
 Bible classes ; and though various errorists 
 and sectarians were there, the Bible and 
 Christian influence were elements sufficient- 
 ly controlling. Often I felt awestruck at 
 the power of the Word of truth in abashing 
 error, when brought face to face with it. 
 
 I shall not soon forget our first session 
 after organizing. We had then no hymn 
 books, and were mutually strangers. 
 
 " I wish we might be able to sing at 
 the opening of this school," said I, " but, 
 it has been suggested, that, as we have no 
 books, and have come from places so re- 
 mote, we may not be able to unite in this 
 exercise of praise to-day. I wisli, however,
 
 • 78 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 to make an experiment. In New England, 
 all are familiar with the hymn, commencing, 
 
 ' There is a happy land.' 
 
 Now I want all who know this to join me." 
 Before I was half through the first line, 
 most of the audience were singing ; many, 
 I doubt not, with a tearful memory of other 
 days. The effect can not be described. Many 
 a hallowed association was called up at that 
 moment, to thrill the hearts of wanderers 
 from earlier influences. 
 
 But what an hour was that when, after 
 many struggles, the church was formed ! 
 The rain and the " bad going " did not 
 keep the faithful few away. A venerated 
 servant of Christ, living a " mile and a 
 half off" on the prairie, seeking relief from 
 the painful disease that had interrupted 
 a useful pastorate, was punctually present, 
 and, grasping my hand, said, " I did not
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 79 
 
 know how I should get here ; and when I 
 came to the stream, and found tliere was 
 no way to cross, I did not know for a mo- 
 ^ ment, but I must turn back ; it was hard 
 to do it, however, and I just ivaded through^ 
 and here I am ! " 
 
 Then later came the longed-for blessing. 
 The rain of the Spirit descended, and in 
 many a household was heard the inquiry, 
 " What shall I do ? " and the rejoicing of 
 new-born souls. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. L. were both members of 
 our little church, and the family altar was 
 no longer neglected. Aunt Flora, however, 
 remained outside of the widening circles of 
 salvation ; she continued to absent herself 
 from family devotions. But at length there 
 was a change, imperceptible at first to 
 most. Her voice was losing its harshness, 
 her manner becoming more genial, and,
 
 80 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 though taciturn still, various little offices 
 of kindness attested her growing interest. 
 The " two " who, by agreement, were lay- 
 ing her case day and night before the 
 Hearer of prayer took courage. 
 
 I embraced an opportunity to say to Mrs. 
 L., " Do yourself and husband discharge 
 your duty toward aunt Flora ? Do you 
 pray for and labor with her ? If I mis- 
 take not, the Holy Spirit is leading her to 
 thoughtfulness — to God." 
 
 " You do not know aunt Flora," she re- 
 plied, with a look of surprise. " She will 
 never change ; I can not expect it ! " 
 
 Oh, how prone God's people are to limit 
 his grace. 
 
 On Sabbath days Mr. L., in his large- 
 hearted way, loaded his long wagon with 
 neighbors, and, in his zeal to get people 
 to meeting, sometimes sent the ox-cart
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 81 
 
 too. All the family, save aunt Flora, went. 
 One Sunday niorning, as we were setting 
 out, she stood in the doorway, holding a 
 babe left in her charge for the day. There 
 was a tender, pensive expression on her 
 face, and I said : " Good morning, aunt 
 Flora. It makes us feel sad to leave you 
 behind. God can bless you at home, how- 
 ever." 
 
 I had never ventured much on the 
 subject so unpleasant to her, but the 
 parting remark was well received. I de- 
 tected symptoms of deep emotion as she 
 turned away, and I said to Mrs. L., " It 
 would not surprise me to learn that aunt 
 Flora reads the Bible after we are gone." 
 Still the same incredulity. 
 
 About sundown, a few weeks after this, 
 a messenger called at our house — for we 
 were then housekeeping, some two miles 
 6
 
 82 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 from Mr. L.'b, — stating that aunt Flora 
 had been taken suddenly ill, and wished 
 myself and wife to visit her immediately. 
 We were speedily by her bedside ; but 
 what a happy place was that ! Suffering 
 intense physical anguish, her face was radi- 
 ant with heavenly light, and, with shouts 
 of joy, she was triumphing in the love of 
 a faithful and almighty Saviour. 
 
 " Jesus ! Jesus ! how lovely, how glo- 
 rious 1 I am his, and he is mine ! " she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 ''How is this ? " I cried, seizing her hand. 
 "Do you, indeed, love the Saviour?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," she replied ; " he called after 
 me ; he sought me, and found me ; and I 
 will praise him forever.'' 
 
 ''This is, indeed, joyful news But when 
 did this change take place ? " 
 
 " It was the Sabbath morning when you
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 83 
 
 all left me to go to meeting. After I en- 
 tered the room, something seemed to tell 
 me that I was soon to die, and that I 
 must prepare for it. I did not know what 
 to do, but took up the Bible, thinking per- 
 haps God would show me the way. While 
 reading the chapter to which I opened, it 
 seemed as if a great light shone on the 
 words, and I saw how kind and loving Jesus 
 was ; how he loved sinners like me, and 
 how he would receive me if I would only 
 come. I came to him ; and, glory to his 
 name! he did receive me, and I am so 
 happy ! Help me praise him, all of you ! " 
 
 " What chapter was it, aunt Flora, that 
 was so blessed to you ? " 
 
 " I do not know," she replied. " It was 
 in the New Testament. It was about the 
 woman that broke the alabaster box of pre- 
 cious ointment on the Saviour's feet, and
 
 8-i ON THE FlIONTIEK. 
 
 wiped them with the hair of her head. 
 And after I am gone," she added, " I want 
 you to preach my funeral sermon from 
 that chapter. I do not know where it is, 
 I have read the Bible so little ; but you 
 can find it." 
 
 -' We hope that you will get well, and 
 live to do much good yet." 
 
 "No, no; my time has come, I am sure 
 of it; and I am going home. I'm going 
 to Jesus." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. L. stood by in joyful sur- 
 prise at her change. In earnest words she 
 exhorted them to faithfulness and dihgence ; 
 then calling in members of the household 
 still unrenewed, warned and entreated them 
 to seek the Saviour ; their tearful promises 
 witnessing to the power of her appeals. 
 
 One thing perplexed me. During the 
 fortnight that intervened till she " fell
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 85 
 
 asleep," she would quote passages of Scrip- 
 ture from the Old and New Testaments with 
 surprising accuracy, copiousness, and per- 
 tinency, expressing herself almost wholly in 
 the language of inspiration. 
 
 I said to her, " How is it that you can 
 thus quote from the Bible, when, for many 
 years, you have not read or heard it read ? " 
 The answer should thrill the heart of 
 every Christian parent and Sabbath school 
 teacher. 
 
 " Oh," said she, with a happy smile, 
 " those are passages that I heard my father 
 read at family prayers when I was a little 
 child ! " 
 
 " Let those who sow in sadness wait 
 Till the fair harvest come ; 
 They shall confess their sheaves are great, 
 And shout the blessings home." 
 
 " How I love you ! " she exclaimed, on
 
 86 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 one occasion ; " you are my spiritual fallier; 
 and you (turning to my wife) are my spirit- 
 iial mother ! But, oh I how much more I 
 loTC Jesus. Now I long to be with him." 
 And thus aunt Flora passed away, — 
 smiling, shouting, triumphing, — a " more 
 than conqueror ! " 
 
 At sunset, one day, I had strolled down 
 to the quiet nook, by the shaded lakelet 
 selected as Mr. L.'s family burial ground. 
 It was on his land, and in sight from the 
 windows, as if they could not trust their 
 treasures further off. Judson, an infant 
 son, and aunt Flora, lay tliere side by 
 side, under those three grassy mounds. 
 
 I thought of that first, sad visit to the 
 stricken family ; of the singular way it was 
 brought about, through the suggestions of 
 my infidel friend ; of the death on the 
 prairie, and how this event, to which the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 87 
 
 mother was so long unreconciled, led to 
 my removal to L. ; of the subsequent labor 
 and blessing. 
 
 Returning to the house, conversation 
 turned to that very theme. I reminded 
 them of the remark at the funeral, that if 
 they would cease looking at secondary 
 causes, they would find that the Lord had 
 gracious designs in his dealings with them. 
 " Now," said I, '' see what has resulted ! 
 you have the gospel here, a Sabbath school, 
 a Christian church, a revival, and in your 
 own circle, " the blessing that maketh 
 rich ; " you are both in the church ; the 
 family altar, over the desolation of which 
 your son mourned, is restored, and aunt 
 Flora is in heaven. Is it not true that 
 
 < God moves in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform ' ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. L., "it was hard
 
 88 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 losing our boy. But it has brought great 
 blessings to us. God has done right," 
 adding, in a husky voice, — 
 
 '♦Behind a frowning providence 
 He hides a smiling face."
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 89 
 
 A RIDE TO A WESTERN 
 WEDDING. 
 
 Among the checkered scenes of missionary 
 life on the frontier, there are not many more 
 pleasant than a genuine Western wedding. 
 The heartiness, the bold dash, the generous 
 hospitality of the thing, and often the novel 
 phases of social life which it reveals, to- 
 gether, of course, with the fee^ which is 
 rarely small in proportion to the ability of 
 the parties, make the event quite welcome 
 to the toiling preacher. 
 
 One day, on answering a modest knock, 
 there stood before our log-house door a young 
 man, barefooted, coatless, with coarse, well- 
 patched pants and rimless straw hat, his face
 
 90 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 beaming with a bashful happiness, which 
 would at once have suggested his errand 
 were it not for his garb, or rather, want of 
 garb. 
 
 " Are you the minister ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," I replied. 
 
 Then followed a pause. 
 
 " Is there any thing," said I, breaking 
 the silence, " that I can do for you ? " 
 
 " Yes. I came to see if you could come 
 down to Mr. Dearborn's next Thursday, and 
 marry a couple." 
 
 " Where does Mr. Dearborn live ? " 
 
 " Seven miles below here, on the other 
 side of the river. They want you at two 
 o'clock, Thursday afternoon." 
 
 " I will endeavor to be there at that 
 time," said I ; " but who are the par- 
 ties ? " 
 
 "Oh," he replied, with a look which was
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 91 
 
 its own interpreter, " you will know when 
 you get there." 
 
 After getting all the directions needful 
 for finding the place, I was about closing 
 the interview, but my caller lingered as if 
 he had more to say ; and, after evident 
 embarrassment, asked what I " charged for 
 marrying folks ? " 
 
 " I generally leave that to the pa^-ties,'' 
 said I. 
 
 Then ensued another pause, broken, at 
 length, by his saying, in a depressed 
 tone, — 
 
 " I have no money now ; perhaps you 
 wouldn't come down and marry us, and 
 wait for your pay ? " 
 
 " That I will," I replied. " And, Provi- 
 dence permitting, you will see me at pre- 
 cisely the hour named." 
 
 The cloud lifted from the sunburnt face,
 
 92 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 and smilingly thanking me, he hurried away 
 with a light step. 
 
 Seven miles in prairie land is a short dis- 
 tance ; but not being in a mood to walk, I 
 engaged a horse of a neighbor. Meanwhile, 
 for the two intervening days, it rained, or 
 rather poured incessantly, moderating to a 
 gentle fall on Thursday. On calling for the 
 horse, however, the owner was reluctant to 
 let him go. 
 
 "Elder," said he (he was a Methodist), 
 " are you used to managing horses ? " 
 
 " Somewhat — why ? " 
 
 " Because," he added, " my horse is a 
 high-spirited fellow, and has a bad trick of 
 throwing folks. Few can ride him without 
 getting hurt. The fact is, I didn't sleep a 
 wink last night, worrying about consenting 
 to let you have him ; and I don't feel right 
 to let him go without speaking of it."
 
 ON, THE FRONTIER. 93 
 
 " How does he throw his riders ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " By suddenly jumping to one side. He's 
 powerful at jumping — beats all the horses 
 I ever saw in that line," said he. 
 
 " I can look out for him ! " 
 
 " He'll outwit you, elder ; hope you 
 won't try it." 
 
 But it was too late to go in search of 
 another, and pleading urgent business and 
 willingness to incur all risks, the formida- 
 ble beast was led out — a powerful, intelli- 
 gent, fiery animal, black as a raven. 
 
 What can be more inspiriting than a 
 horseback jaunt across a rolling Northwest 
 prairie. So, despite the cold and rain, and 
 now and then a prodigious leap by Black 
 Hawk, the ride was most exhilarating. It 
 was two miles to the bridge. On arriving 
 there, I found that the freshet had swept
 
 9-i ON THE FUONTIEil. 
 
 it away. Just in sight, however, in the 
 margin of a fine grove, was a snug little 
 cabin, and riding briskly there, the bark- 
 ing of dogs and my shouts brought the pro- 
 prietor to the door, a bevy of flaxen-haired 
 urchins at his heels, with eyes brimful of 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Is there any way to cross the river ? *' 
 I asked. 
 
 " Yes ; on the bridge," he replied, curtly. 
 
 ^' The bridge is gone." 
 
 *' Well, then there isriH any way." 
 
 " But is there no place on the stream 
 shoal enough to be forded ? " 
 
 The settler scratched his head comically, 
 scanned me and my beast leisurely, and 
 said, — 
 
 " Take the road to the left, and you will 
 come to the old ford ; how it will be in 
 this flood, can't say. You can try it, though,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 95 
 
 if you like ; nothing like trying, they 
 say." 
 
 There was need of trying, I found, on 
 reaching the spot. There rolled the river, 
 deep and wide, with steep banks on either 
 side. What was to be done ? Go back and 
 wait till the waters subsided ? That was 
 not Western. The genuine pioneer never 
 thinks of giving up an enterprise. A short 
 experience in the vicissitudes of frontier 
 life wakes up a self-reliance and love of 
 adventure, which make danger and difficulty 
 to be courted rather than shunned, — in- 
 deed, they are every-day occurrences, adding 
 piquancy to privation and hardship. And, 
 as I looked down into the water of the river, 
 there rose to view the image of that ragged, 
 barefoot, coatless, moneyless bridegroom ; 
 and memory recalled certain facts which I 
 had learned about his borrowing articles of
 
 96 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 apparel for himself and bride, and materials 
 for a wedding supper. Now, to disappoint 
 persons in their condition was hardly to be 
 thought of. So, chirruping to my good 
 steed, we made the plunge — and a deep 
 plunge it was, for the animal above as well 
 as the animal beneath — for the former went 
 nearly to his neck. However, the horse 
 soon rose to the surface, permitting his rider, 
 by a happy exercise of unwonted agility, to 
 strike the saddle a la Turk, which position 
 I prudently kept till the opposite shore was 
 gained. Clambering up the steep bank, my 
 borrowed steed went at a break-neck pace 
 the remaining five miles to our destination. 
 It was a small, framed house, perched on a 
 swell of land in the midst of a wide prairie, 
 dotted with an occasional cabin. The dwell- 
 ing was covered only witli rough boards, 
 between which the ever-restless winds camt5
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 97 
 
 and went at will. Alighting at the gate, a 
 gray-haired man — the bride's father, who 
 was cutting wood in the little front yard — 
 laid down his ax and came forward to take 
 my horse. ' He had, as I afterwards learned, 
 served in the Mexican war, and had still a 
 soldierly bearing. Taking the bridle, he 
 said, — 
 
 " You are the minister, 1 suppose. We 
 had given you up, thinking you would not 
 come in such a storm as this. But how did 
 you cross the river ? We heard the bridge 
 was gone." 
 
 " Horseback," said I. 
 
 " Well," said the old soldier, his eye 
 kindling, " a minister that can do that can 
 preach, I know I " 
 
 I had fulfilled my engagement partly 
 from sympathy and the pleasure of con- 
 quering obstacles ; there was, beside, a sort
 
 98 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 of presentiment that urged me on ; nor did 
 I in the end regret that I yielded to it. 
 
 The interior of the humble dwelling, and 
 its occupants, I shall not soon forget. What 
 taste and neatness under the most dis- 
 couraging circumstances ! What method 
 and fertility of arrangement where all was 
 plain, and rough, and scant! It is on the 
 frontier, where the appliances of elegant 
 housewifery are impossible, that woman's 
 fertile resources of tact and skill most strik- 
 ingly appear — often making the rude log- 
 house and simple, home-made furniture 
 wear an aspect of comfort and taste not 
 unfrequently wanting in homes of luxury. 
 
 The household consisted of the father, — 
 already introduced, — mother, three daugh- 
 ters, and the young man who had called 
 for my services. 
 
 " Mother is not well, and would like to
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 99 
 
 see you a moment," remarked one of the 
 young ladies, showing me into an adjoining 
 room, where loving hands had spared no 
 pains to fortify its pining inmate against ex- 
 posure, and soothe the anguish of suffering. 
 
 A bed, with its snowy counterpane and 
 tasteful curtains, stood in a corner of the 
 apartment. On it reclined the dying 
 mother, the emaciated frame and hectic 
 cheek marking her a victim of consumption. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you," said she, ex- 
 tending her hand. " It is a long while since 
 a minister of the gospel has entered our door ; 
 and yet I regret you have been put to so 
 much trouble and exposure in coming. 
 God will reward you ! But I wish to speak 
 with you about this marriage." 
 
 I learned from herself and husband that 
 they were from New England, and in this 
 and subsequent conversations gathered quite
 
 100 ON THE FEONTIER. 
 
 a connected account of their peculiar do- 
 mestic and religious life. 
 
 Mr. Dearborn, like many other good men, 
 at the period when, by prophetic interpreta- 
 tion, the time of the end of the world was 
 proclaimed to be ascertained by Mr. Miller 
 and others, became a convert to tliat theory. 
 Not that he had ever examined for himself, 
 or was competent to examine, the premises 
 from which such a conclusion was drawn, 
 for he knew nothing of chronology, history, 
 sacred or profane, nor of the principles of 
 Bible exegesis. Indeed, his stock of informa- 
 tion was never very extensive, but the lectures 
 sounded well, the mathematical calculations 
 seemed to be figured up right, and the fer- 
 vor and confidence with which all were 
 challenged, on pain of the most fearful con- 
 sequences, to accept the whole as truth, com- 
 pletely captivated his feelings. His sin-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 101 
 
 V cerity and conscientiousness none doubted. 
 All his worldly prospects and possessions 
 were sacrificed on the altar of his new be- 
 lief; the little church with which he had 
 walked in fellowship, he left, " shaking off 
 the dust of his feet against it," because the 
 light he sought to shed on the benighted 
 minds of pastor and flock was not received ; 
 his children were taken from school, all bu- 
 siness matters settled; and he waited, with- 
 out a doubt to cloud his mind, for the ful- 
 fillment of his expectations at the time 
 appointed. 
 
 " Forty-three '* glided by, however, as if 
 no such man as William Miller had calcu- 
 lated the symbols of Daniel and John. But 
 then the " Jewish forty "-three, it was an- 
 nounced, would justify the theory. That 
 passed. The " tenth day of the seventh 
 montk-' was soon discovered to be the true
 
 102 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 time. When that, too, slipped by, the poor 
 man was in a chaos of prophetic and doc- 
 trinal speculation. Xot that he thought 
 any more highly of the cooler judgment of 
 the brethren, whom he had denounced for 
 their dullness and hardness of heart for not 
 believing in the period set by his fallible 
 guides, or that he had any less complacent 
 idea of his own superior piety and biblical 
 wisdom — not he. But then, in order to 
 adjust the theory to the passing of the 
 time, new opinions were constantly started ; 
 gourds, which came up in a night to perish 
 in a night, and all the old doctrines in which 
 his faith had been nurtured, in the wild ex- 
 citements of the hour were being overturned, 
 till he had little in common with his pre- 
 vious theological faith. However, his inge- 
 nuity did not forsake him, and he settled 
 down upon this device, that Mr. Miller's
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 103 
 
 calculations were true ; the end had come, 
 but in a different way ; the mistake had 
 been in the manner of the event, and not in 
 the time ; the six thousand years, supposed 
 to be allotted to our globe in its present state, 
 had passed, and the great Sabbath of rest 
 had come. In accordance with this belief, 
 he now strictly rested from all labor, deem- 
 ing it wrong to do any thing for the support 
 of his family, or for the spiritual good of 
 others, albeit he still had to eat, and his 
 wife do the cooking, and wherever he went 
 he was ready to argue for the truth's sake. 
 In this state of idle, morbid, talkative 
 " waiting," he embraced a thousand vaga- 
 ries — among the least harmful of which 
 was, perhaps, when he became a non-re- 
 sistant. 
 
 With such a life, his little farm in Ver- 
 mont soon melted away, and without money
 
 104 ON THE FKUNTIER. 
 
 or business his family were in suffering cir- 
 cumstances. One day, while in this plight, 
 as he was wandering aimlessly about, he 
 chanced to stop before a recruiting office. 
 While listening to the shrill notes of the 
 fife and the roll of the drum, he " had an 
 impression," to use his own language, that 
 it was his duty to enlist. Now, impressions 
 had been, during the recent excitements, like 
 a divine law to him ; for, supposing himself 
 to be of a class specially favored of God 
 with knowledge of the scriptures, and of the 
 indwelling of the Holy Spirit, as was his 
 custom, he did not stop to confer with flesh 
 and blood, but put his name down on the 
 roll. Quickly, however, he awoke to the 
 incongruity of the step, — he, a peace man, 
 a Second Adventist, one who believed that 
 the kingdoms of this world were wholly of 
 Satan, that it was contamination to have
 
 ON THE FKONTIER. 105 
 
 any thing to do with humai> government, 
 and sinful even for a member of the " Fifth 
 Monarchy " to cast a vote under the 
 "Fourth," — he, a soldier by his own volun- 
 tary action, and that too in a war against 
 Mexico, — a war too which Mr. Miller was 
 teaching to be the commencement of the 
 great battle of Arnlageddon ! But there 
 was no retreat; and the first his anxious 
 family knew of his whereabouts he was on 
 his way to the field of strife. Without 
 seeming to realize his inconsistency, while 
 yet drawing pay as a soldier, he prayed that 
 God would keep him from actual blood- 
 shedding, and believed that his prayer 
 would be answered. His expectations were 
 realized. At the battle of Buena Yista, 
 when his regiment was ordered to charge, 
 the spirit of fight overcame all other con- 
 siderations, and he rushed with the rest.
 
 106 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 shouting to the conflict. But suddenly, 
 remembering his principles and prayers, he 
 paused, astounded at his own conduct. Just 
 then an officer rode up from the front, 
 holding in his hand a disabled gun. Seeing 
 the hesitating private, he said, — 
 
 " Here, Dearborn, take this," handing 
 him the injured weapon, ^' and let me have 
 yours, and you may go back and help at 
 the camp." 
 
 As his new sphere was congenial, he 
 made himself eminently useful in dealing 
 out their rations to the soldiers, and guard- 
 ing them from surprise by the enemy. He 
 had a quick eye and active temperament, 
 and was constantly on the alert. The tent 
 from which the food was dispensed was on 
 a slight eminence, surmounted by a flag. 
 Santa Anna's artillery, drawn by oxen, 
 would move round the hill, getting, the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 107 
 
 range, but just as the firing was to be done, 
 the vigilant Yankee would give the word 
 to the men, and they would vanish from 
 harm's way. By this course he saved many 
 valuable lives. From this service he was 
 transferred to the hospital, and was so 
 tender and efficient as a nurse, that he 
 was continued in this vocation. His pay 
 now was quite respectable ; and when dis- 
 charged at the end of the war, he went 
 home with a nice little sum, conscious too 
 of having been useful in the arm'y. His 
 non-combative sentiments had also been un- 
 touched, for he had not fired a gun at his 
 country's foes during his absence. 
 
 He returned to tarry but a short time 
 among the scenes of the past. Although 
 still clinging to certain features of his 
 prophetic dogmas, he was disposed so to 
 plan for the future as to seek to invest his
 
 108 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 money in some permanently remunerative 
 way. For this purpose he turned his 
 thoughts towards the " great West." Be- 
 sides, the changes, disappointments, and 
 poverty-pinchings of the family, had seri- 
 ously affected the health of the wife. Iso- 
 lation from cherished religious privileges, 
 the violent sundering of dear and sacred 
 ties binding her to the people of God, while 
 this was only in keeping with the husband's 
 rougher, more controversial nature, her 
 loving, sensitive spirit was well nigh crushed 
 in the process. Mr. Dearborn was filled with 
 concern when he folded the shadowy form 
 of his wife to his heart. He deeply loved 
 her, and, hoping that new scenes and a 
 Western climate might save her from the 
 destroyer, he emigrated at once, making 
 one or two temporary locations, then sell- 
 ing out and going further into the un- 
 settled woods.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 109 
 
 It was while on their way out that the 
 young man, to whom their daughter was 
 now engaged, made their acquaintance, and 
 joined his fortunes with theirs. It happened 
 under circumstances of great trial to them, 
 and his presence and aid were peculiarly 
 acceptable, indeed, indispensable. With 
 untiring zeal he devoted himself to their 
 comfort, and whether on the long journey 
 in the emigrant wagon, or in the toils in- 
 cident to making a new home, he was like 
 a son and brother. 
 
 What the father's feelings were as he saw 
 the affection that was springing up between 
 those two young hearts, it is easy to imagine. 
 And when, one day, as they were putting 
 up rail fence, the young man, after a deal 
 of hemming and throat-clearing, asked for 
 the willing hand of the girl, the father for 
 a moment was dumb with astonishment,
 
 110 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 then exclaimed, " What! talk of marrying, 
 when I have often shown you that time can 
 last at most only a few weeks or months 
 longer ! " 
 
 " I don't see why father must make every 
 body go by his notions," said the daughter 
 that evening, weeping the while. 
 
 " Annie I " replied the mother, " if there 
 ever was a good man in the world, your 
 father is one." 
 
 " Yes, I know that, mother," returned 
 the child, " but I'd like to know what there 
 is wrong in getting married. George read 
 to me this very day where the apostle says, 
 ' Marriage is honorable in all.' " 
 
 " Yes, but, dear, your father says that 
 that was not meant for these last days." 
 
 " Then why didn't Paul say so, mother ? " 
 
 " Well, dear, I don't see this matter just 
 as your father does. But let us be patient,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. Ill 
 
 and not cross him, and if he is in the 
 wrong, he is such a good man I have no 
 doubt he will be set right by and by.'' 
 
 It must be confessed, however, that the 
 prospect looked rather gloomy at times to 
 the lover and his chosen. But, like Jacob, 
 he would serve seven, or twice seven, if he 
 might succeed at last. To this end labor, 
 money, every thing was devoted, till at 
 length the old man leaned on him, and could 
 not do without him. Meanwhile, Time — 
 that silent exploder of shallow theories — 
 had set aside many favorite ones of this 
 warrior-adventist, while the mother, true 
 to the intuitive kindness and good sense 
 of her sex, lost no opportunities of advan- 
 cing, in her own gentle, admirable way, the 
 claims of the persevering suitor, till finally 
 consent was granted, and the wedding-day 
 set, as we have seen.
 
 112 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 " We came here," said the mother, " be- 
 cause of my health, hoping that the climate 
 might do for me what medicine could 
 not. I now see it was too late. But for 
 my husband and George's sake, who have 
 sacrificed so much on my account, I hope 
 this last settlement may prove productive 
 some day. They have secured a good 
 tract of land, that must be valuable by and 
 by ; but we are * land-poor ' now all our 
 money is gone. Another season, however, 
 we hope our crops will bring us something 
 more than the necessaries of life. George 
 is like a child to me ; and what is more, 
 he is a Christian. Annie and he are ten- 
 derly attached, and despite our present 
 poverty, I shall rejoice in knowing that they 
 are united before I am called away." 
 
 But the few friends that had been invited 
 had come in ; the simple words that make
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 113 
 
 two inseparably one, were uttered ; and 
 then, as the table was being laid, bride and 
 bridegroom poured forth their joy in Chris- 
 tian song. Strangely touching was it here 
 on the lone prairie to listen to wedded love 
 thus expressed. Yery happy were they, 
 and comely too, in the freshness and vigor 
 of their youth. And, as we gathered around 
 the well-spread board, the sick mother, tak- 
 ing once more her place at the head of the 
 table, her face beaming the peace she felt, 
 there was a glow at my heart, such as I 
 never experienced before as guest at a mar- 
 riage feast. 
 
 Their happiness was peculiarly artless 
 and childlike ; and the hymns they sang, 
 what strange interpreters of that happiness ! 
 There was only one hymn-book in the 
 house, and that belonged to the father, and 
 was devoted to the idea that molded his 
 8
 
 114 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 thoughts. But what cared they, if the senti- 
 ment was of unearthly things, — if it only 
 helped them warble their bird-like joyful- 
 uess ? With loving looks, and smiling faces, 
 absorbed in thoughts of each other, they 
 struck up, — 
 
 «*The chariot ! the chariot ! its wheels roll in fire, 
 As the Lord cometh dovra in the pomp of his ire ; 
 So, self-moving he rides on his pathway of cloud, 
 And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bowed. 
 
 " The judgment ! the judgment ! the thrones are all set, 
 Where the white arrayed throngs, and the elders are met ; 
 From the east, from the west, from the south, from the 
 
 north, 
 All the vast generations of men are come forth ! " 
 
 Then, more plaintively, they sang, — 
 
 *« Son of God, thy people's shield ; 
 
 Must we still thine absence mourn ? 
 Let thy promise be fulfilled ; 
 Thou hast said, I will return.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 115 
 
 " As a woman counts the days 
 Till her absent lord she see, — 
 Mourns and watches, weeps and prays, 
 So thy church will weep for thee ! " 
 
 As the father led my horse out for 
 me to mount, he said, " We thank you for 
 coming." Then, as I was gathering up the 
 reins, " I suppose you have never noticed 
 what the Bible says about the railroad cars 
 being a sign of the times ? Our ministers 
 are dreadfully in the dark about the day 
 we live in ! " 
 
 "Ah! is it possible that the cars are pre- 
 dicted ; what prophecy is that ? " 
 
 "In Nahum, second chapter, third and 
 fourth verses," lie answered, taking out 
 his well-thumbed pocket Bible, and proceed- 
 ing to expound, with much inward comfort, 
 as he read, — 
 
 " ' The chariots,'' that's the cars, * shall be
 
 116 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 with flaming torches^' — that describes them 
 as they appear at night ; ' the chariots shall 
 rage in the streets,' — the tracks are laid right 
 in the street ; ' they shall jostle one against 
 another in the broad xvays^ — how they strike 
 together when they are about to stop, or 
 to start again, being hitched one to the 
 other ; ' they shall seem like torches,^ — in 
 the night ; ' they shall run like the light- 
 ningSy — going at the rate of twenty or 
 more miles an hour ; ' he shall recount his 
 worthies,' — that means the conductor taking 
 the tickets, and making sure that all have 
 paid their fare ; ' they shall stumble in their 
 
 walk^ — none who have rode in the cars 
 
 * 
 
 have failed to see and experience how 
 difficult it is to go about when the train 
 is in motion. And this," he added, trium- 
 phantly, "is to be fulfilled, — when? ^ la 
 the day of his preparation,^ — that is, when 
 God is preparing to judge the world."
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 117 
 
 " But are you sure," said I, " that the 
 prophet meant to paint the steam-cars of 
 our day ? *' 
 
 "Certainly; does'nt he say " 
 
 " How, then, does it happen that he an- 
 nounces that this prophecy relates to the 
 city of Nineveh, which has been destroyed 
 thousands of years ? as in the first verse, 
 he calls it ' The burden of Nineveh.' And 
 how is it that these ' chariots,' or cars, as 
 you term them, he describes as having 
 wheels, and being drawn by horses, driven 
 by the whip, as in the third chapter, second 
 verse ? ' The noise of a whip, and the noise 
 of the rattling of wheels, and of the pran- 
 cing horses, and of the jumping chariots.' " 
 
 He stood in silence a moment, then said, 
 " I don't know. I haven't had any light 
 on that yet." 
 
 " Well," said I, " when you get the light,
 
 118 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 don't hide it under a bushel, but be sure 
 and let the clergy have the benefit of it ! *' 
 and consenting, at his request, to preach at 
 his house in a fortnight, I rode on. 
 
 " Well, elder," said my Methodist friend, 
 as I alighted at his door on my return, 
 " not a limb broken, eh ? But you had to 
 swim the river ! Guess you didn't get 
 much of a fee though, did you ? " 
 
 "Never better paid in my life, — what's 
 my bill for Black Hawk ? " 
 
 " Well, seeing you feel so n"c/i, I think 
 I shan't charge you any thing this time. 
 All is, I'm glad you've got back safe and 
 sound."
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 119 
 
 THE LITTLE MOUND IN THE 
 WEST. 
 
 Afar out West, a thousand miles, 
 
 I own a spot of ground, 
 On which, last year, with trembling hands, 
 
 I raised a little mound. 
 
 A robin, with her fledgeling brood, 
 
 Was singing then hard by : 
 That robin, with her fledgeling brood, 
 
 Was happier far than I. 
 
 The leaves have fallen on that mound, 
 
 The snows have bound it fast. 
 And, howling through the trees o'erhead, 
 
 Have gusts of winter passed. 
 
 But now the Winter's icy bands 
 
 Are severed by the Spring, 
 And round that lonely mound again 
 
 The robins come to sing.
 
 120 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 How has the little tenant passed 
 The autumn there alone ? — 
 The long, cold, dismal winter nights 
 That since have come and gone. 
 
 He could not bear to leave me once, 
 
 Not even for a day ; 
 He grieved and piaed in loneliness 
 
 "WTiene'er I was away. 
 
 But now he lies untended there, 
 Nor murmurs from his bed ; 
 
 And down in mold and darkness keeps 
 The watches of the dead. 
 
 We draped him for his final rest, 
 'Mid sobs, and tears, and sighs ; 
 
 We combed his hair, and tenderly 
 We closed his precious eyes. 
 
 Do rose and violet keep their place 
 Through all these wasting hours ? 
 
 And does his little moldering hand 
 Still clasp its withered flowers ? 
 
 With such endearing cares we sought 
 
 The cruel grave to cheat 
 Of half its horrors ; even his toys 
 
 Were bmied at his feet.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 121 
 
 How vain the thought to placate Death 
 
 "With cheerful funeral rite ! 
 I have a funeral in my heart ; 
 
 I bury him each night. 
 
 The grief each idle passer-by 
 
 Prejudged would soon depart, 
 Is gnawing deep and deeper still 
 
 Into my withered heart. 
 
 And in my agony, I turn 
 
 To that far spot of ground, 
 Where all my earthly hopes lie dead. 
 
 Within the little mound.
 
 122 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 A WALK WITH A STRANGER. 
 
 A WESTERN REMINISCENCE. 
 
 I WAS waiting at Landing, on the 
 
 Mississippi, for friends from the East. The 
 spring floods were subsiding. The low, 
 level land on the other side, with its rich 
 vegetation exposed to the hot sun, sent up 
 sickly vapors, and each day brought some 
 new cases of ague and fever. Lofty bluffs, 
 between which the town extended, shut 
 away every breath of air. At times the 
 heat seemed like a furnace. Nevertheless, 
 the chills often drove me out to the sunny 
 side of the hotel, where I would stand shiv- 
 ering in my overcoat. 
 
 One morning I stood warming myself as
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 123 
 
 usual. The street had few signs of life, 
 save that scores of hogs ran about grunting 
 their love of liberty, intent on plunder, 
 which consisted mainly in running their 
 sharp noses into bags of flour that stood 
 in tempting array at the doors of the stores. 
 The traders kept a long whip ready for the 
 porkers, but " practice makes perfect," and 
 the hogs would often outwit them. 
 
 An instance amused me. A shopkeeper, 
 seeing the hogs coming, waited till they 
 were within reach, then, springing out, he 
 applied the lash, and they ran squealing 
 away. He saw them approach his neigh- 
 bor's flour. Assured that his own in the 
 mean while was safe, he returned to his 
 counter. Scarcely was he there, however, 
 when a long-legged boar rushed back with 
 the fleetness of a hound, and, by a dex- 
 trous blow of his tusk, tore a bag from
 
 124 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 bottom to top, emptying the contents on 
 the ground. At once his companions 
 rushed to the spot. The flour quickly disap- 
 peared, and, as I was laughing at the scene, 
 a deep voice at my side said, " Wouldn't 
 you like to take a walk, stranger ? " 
 
 The speaker was a tall, powerfully built 
 man, of about thirty. His sallow, sunken 
 cheeks and wasted limbs, marked him a 
 recent victim of fever. Nature had given 
 him a manly, open countenance ; but over 
 it there rested a reckless, fierce expression. 
 His abrupt address was not unpleasant to 
 me ; it was in keeping with Western frank- 
 ness ; but there was a something, illy de- 
 fined in his looks, that made me suspect an 
 evil design. 
 
 " I came down from St. Paul in the boat 
 this morning," he continued, " and it's dull 
 enough here. Up the river a mile or so
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 125 
 
 there is a scythe-snath factory ; I want to 
 see it myself. You seem to be alone. What 
 say you to going, too ? " 
 
 It was a wild, lonely path, but I was in 
 the mood for a change from the present 
 monotony, and felt also a desire, after a 
 moment's thought, to study my new ac- 
 quaintance, and assented. My companion 
 proved to be a person of varied information. 
 He had evidently seen much of the world, 
 and I became interested in him ; yet could 
 not help watching him suspiciously. Why 
 did he leave the bar-room and select me 
 as the companion of his walk ? Why did 
 he wish to walk at all, — he so feeble and 
 weary-looking ? And then there was an 
 occasional glare of the eye, and it seemed 
 to me a look of desperation. This mingling 
 of the winning and the repulsive in the man 
 kept my faculties observingly alert. In-
 
 126 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 stinctively, however, I assumed a careless 
 demeanor. He was not artful enough to 
 be a villain by profession, and that was 
 clear, yet, before the walk was half com- 
 pleted, I could not divest myself of a sense 
 of personal danger. 
 
 " Come," said he, after inspecting the 
 manufactory, '' the bluffs shade the way, 
 let's keep on up the river a piece ? " 
 
 He was disappointed at my declining. 
 On our return, he spoke often of the pleas- 
 ures of foot journeys, and at length stated 
 that he was to leave next morning for 
 
 D , a town some twenty miles distant; 
 
 said he intended walking there, and pressed 
 me to join him, as my course homeward 
 lay in that direction. This, also, I declined. 
 
 That evening, as I was going out to a 
 religious meeting, a second stranger ac- 
 costed me, — " Are you a clergyman, sir ? "
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 127 
 
 On receiving an affirmative answer, he 
 said, "I hope you will pardon the liberty 
 I take. I am Mr. N., of New York. I 
 am here looking up land ; have made some 
 good investments, and wish to look around 
 a little more. I have some money with me, 
 and am really afraid of being robbed. You 
 are the only guest at this house that has a 
 room to himself. Would you not, as a great 
 favor, permit me to share your room with 
 you to-night ? Last night I lodged with 
 eight of the roughest customers I ever saw. 
 I slept but little ; but once I was startled 
 from a doze, and looking up, saw a big 
 whiskered fellow fumbling about my clothes. 
 He protested it was by mistake, but I 
 don't believe it ; and." said he, his voice 
 sinking to a whisper, " there's the very 
 chap, as I live ! " pointing to my morning 
 acquaintance, who was just entering the
 
 128 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 bar-room. " A desperado, no doubt," he 
 continued, much agitated. 
 
 On inquiring, I found Mr. X. was a wealthy 
 merchant from New York — a speculator in 
 land. The host at length reluctantly con- 
 sented tliat Mr. N. should room with me. 
 
 The speculator, on entering my apart- 
 ment, examined the lock to the door and 
 added another fastening. He then seemed 
 to breathe freely. His joy at the change 
 was almost childish. Depositing his valu- 
 ables at the foot of my bed, as if he thought 
 somehow they would 1)6 safer there, he soon 
 fell into a peaceful sleep, from which he 
 awoke in the morning to renew his protesta- 
 tions of gratitude at what he deemed his 
 escape from threatening peril. 
 
 " But," said I, " I am a stranger to 
 you ; how is it that you felt so safe with 
 me?"
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 129 
 
 He replied, " I heard you asking for a 
 meeting. I inferred that you were a re- 
 ligious man. From your appearance, I 
 judged you to be a minister." 
 
 "But I meet many who sneer at Chris- 
 tians and Christian ministers." 
 
 " Sir ! " he answered, with emphasis, 
 " it's my business to find out who to 
 TRUST, Let infidels say what they will, tho 
 stoutest of them, if they had been in my 
 place, would gladly have found refuge with 
 a religious man," 
 
 Late in the forenoon, hearing loud voices 
 in the bar-room, 1 glanced in. The alterca- 
 tion was between the landlord and the man 
 with whom I had walked the morning 
 previous. 
 
 " I will not pay so much. Give me back 
 that dollar. It*s every cent I've got. I 
 was sick at St. Paul, and have spent every 
 9
 
 130 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 cent I had. I can't get work. I'm so 
 weak nobody will hire me. Give me back 
 the money, I say." 
 
 " I'll show you what I'll give you ! " said 
 the landlord, with a dreadful oath, " if 
 you are not off mighty quick." 
 
 " But," said the other, in pleading tones, 
 "I'm sick, I'm poor, I'm hungry — hungry 
 as a dog ! Have I eaten a crumb at your 
 table ? I've slept in your bed only one 
 night, — last night I lay on the floor here, — 
 that you know. And what am I to do if 
 you take the last penny from me ? " 
 
 The scene moved me deeply. It con- 
 firmed me in the opinion I had formed, that 
 the stranger was in some extremity of 
 trouble, and was not yet a villain. So I 
 stepped into the bar-room. On seeing me, 
 the landlord threw a quarter on the coun- 
 ter, and said, —
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 131 
 
 " There, take that, then, and be off ! " 
 The man took the silver, went out, and sat 
 down on the tavern steps. An hour later, 
 and he came to me, and said, — 
 
 " I am going to D now. Won't 
 
 you go with me ? I was going yesterday, 
 but have waited for you." 
 
 Avoiding a direct reply, I started with 
 him, and when the confines of the settle- 
 ment were reached, while yet in sight of 
 inhabitants, I turned, saying, — 
 
 " I must leave you now." 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, fiercely ; " you 
 going back ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Why should I go all the 
 
 way to D afoot ? Besides, I fear the 
 
 fatigue of such a walk would be a poor 
 preparation for preaching next Sabbath. 
 His whole demeanor changed." 
 
 " Are you a preacher, then ? " he ejacu-
 
 132 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 lated. " I thought you were a speculator ! " 
 and sinking down by the roadside, he looked 
 the picture of wretchedness. 
 
 " Friend," said I, " you seem to be in 
 trouble ; can I help you? " 
 
 " Trouble ! " he replied, bitterly, " it's 
 all trouble.." 
 
 "I soon drew from him his story. 
 
 " I lived," said he, " in Western New 
 York, and only two years ago thought 
 myself perfectly happy. I had married to 
 my mind. My wife loved me enough to 
 connect herself with me against her parents' 
 wishes — I being a mechanic, dependent on 
 my own labor. They never were cordial to 
 me, but kept themselves aloof, as if of 
 another race. But she was always gentle, 
 affectionate, and true. Ah, sir, she was in- 
 deed too good for me — too good for earth. 
 
 " My boyhood and youth had been Indus-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 133 
 
 triously employed, and I had used such means 
 of mental improvement as were within my 
 reach ; but religion had always seemed a 
 thing of gloom suited to the aged, or the 
 last moments of life, but having no special 
 claim on my attention. Never shall I forget 
 the first evening after our marriage. Clara 
 placed the Bible on the table, and said, — 
 
 " * Will you not read a chapter, dearest, 
 and by prayer, seek God's blessing on our 
 new life ? ' I knew not how to pray, but 
 she did, and kneeling down, with sobs and 
 tears, she besought God, oh, how fervently, 
 to be with us in our journey together, and 
 to enable us to live as he had commanded. 
 She never faltered in her Christian course, 
 never turned back, and was always happy. 
 I looked upon her at times with feelings 
 akin to awe. She influenced me more than 
 any other being did before, and under that
 
 134 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 influence I was led to make a profession of 
 religion, for I was powerless to resist her 
 gentle persuasions. Still, I do not now 
 think I ought to have taken that step ; it 
 was under the compulsion of a human love 
 amounting almost to idolatry. Often I con- 
 trasted my hardened worldly nature with 
 hers, and it seemed as if it could not be 
 right that such a being should be united to 
 one so unworthy of her. 
 
 " ' Are you not an angel in disguise, come 
 to save me from myself and from sin ? ' I 
 asked one day ; and I was sincere in the 
 question, extravagant as it may sound to 
 others. And when, after the labors of the 
 day, as I approached our little cottage I 
 saw her dressed in white, flitting among 
 the flowers in the garden, or coming to meet 
 me with a beautiful smile, the fancy would 
 possess me that some visitant from a
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 135 
 
 brighter world had taken compassion on 
 my weaknesses, and in human form was 
 seeking to lead me to the paths of peace 
 and blessedness. 
 
 " After I had joined the church, she 
 always encouraged me to keep up house- 
 hold worship. Were it not for her watch- 
 fulness and loving tact, however, often 
 would the service have been omitted. In- 
 deed, sir, it was her faith that I expressed, 
 her desires that were breathed from my 
 lips, I fear, for my heart was often cold and 
 unbelieving, and my feet constantly inclined 
 to stray." 
 
 " Did you have no enjoyment, no peace 
 of mind, no real resolution to serve God 
 in all this ? " I asked. 
 
 " Sometimes it seemed to me that I did. 
 But my life since shows that I was deceived. 
 I loved her better than my heavenly Father,
 
 136 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 else why have I been tempest-tossed, at the 
 mercy of circumstances, restless, complain- 
 ing, wicked. Oh, if I had not lost her, I 
 never should have fallen so low ! " he ex- 
 claimed passionately. 
 
 " Then your wife was taken from you ? " 
 " Yes ; in a little more than a year she 
 died, and an infant daughter was laid with 
 her in the grave. Oh, the agony of those 
 few last days of her life. I called in the 
 best physicians of the region ; they could 
 neither save her, nor relieve her sufferings, 
 while my heart was breaking with fear of 
 the result, and anguish at her sufiferings. 
 But she, — why, sir, not a murmur escaped 
 her hps ; her peace grew wondrously, like 
 the dawning of heaven, and while her body 
 was racked with pain, her face shone like 
 Stephen's before his murderers. Before 
 her departure she was ever praying for me
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 137 
 
 or praising God, for her soul was filled 
 with heaven. Her last words were, as she 
 pointed upward, ' We shall meet there, 
 George.' 
 
 '' When she died it was just before daylight 
 one wild tempestuous night. I rushed fran- 
 tically forth through the streets of the vil- 
 lage into the woods beyond, and fell help- 
 lessly on the ground, overcome with the ter- 
 rible emotions of rage, and grief, and 
 wretchedness. I felt that life had now no 
 charms for me, and that God was a hard 
 being, a tyrant, who had remorselessly robbed 
 me of all I loved. Unable to apply myself 
 to work, what little I had got together for her 
 sake was soon gone. At length I came West, 
 hoping that new scenes might help me to 
 forget the old. The change was favorable 
 for a time. I found work, but fell sick. 
 The few acquaintan»?.es I had were gone
 
 138 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 when 1 got about. I was in debt for board, 
 medical attendance, and other necessary ex- 
 penses, and have since been unsuccessfully 
 wandering around seeking employment." 
 
 Briefly, misfortune had brought him to 
 despair, and well nigh unsettled reason. 
 Hard-hearted treatment had filled liim with 
 hatred to his kind. He had even been 
 tempted to self-destruction, and later to 
 commit robbery. His brain, as he expressed 
 it, was " all in a whirl, and his heart hard 
 as stone." 
 
 " Ah," said I, "you have been all wrong 
 in your feelings — you have neglected one 
 thing most needful for you in your circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " What is that ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is that which your sainted wife found 
 help in, — prayer. I also have seen sorrow, 
 and have found it an unfailing refuge."
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 139 
 
 " Oh," said he, vehemently, " that I could 
 pray ! " 
 
 Commending to him the case of the pub- 
 lican and the thief on the cross, I added, 
 " One anciently said, ' I am poor and needy, 
 yet the Lord thinketh upon me ! ' If you 
 seek him, he will be found of you, he will 
 sustain you. And he will hear your cries, 
 and open before you, I doubt not, a door 
 of deliverance as it regards your temporal 
 necessities. Will you not thus go to him 
 and trust him ? " 
 
 Then advising him to keep away from the 
 miasma of the Mississippi and from the large 
 towns, and seek a shelter till he was well 
 among the kind-hearted prairie farmers, and 
 placing in his hand something to help him 
 on his way, we parted. 
 
 " That's a dangerous operation," said one,
 
 140 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 passing, as some months after the incidents 
 just narrated I chanced at a village fifty 
 miles inland, and stood watclnng a gronp 
 of men engaged in raising a " liberty pole." 
 It was of great height, and no little enthu- 
 siasm attended its erection, for the place 
 had just been made the county seat, after a 
 spirited contest with rival aspirants for the 
 honor. Being a stranger I could share 
 little in the general joy, but was more con- 
 cerned for the lives of those who pulled at 
 the ropes by which the huge piece of timber 
 was being elevated, than for the future ot 
 the town. Awkwardly enough, it seemed to 
 me, was the raising managed by the gray 
 haired leader of the enterprise, and as the 
 pole swayed now this way, now that, I 
 shuddered. But a sudden " hurrah " told 
 that the feat was accomplished, and I was 
 turning away relieved, when a man touched 
 me, and said, —
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 141 
 
 "Excuse me, sir, but I believe we have 
 met before." 
 
 It was my stranger acquaintance of the 
 Landing. I had observed him, as among 
 the most active in the raising ; but in his 
 new garb and new bearing did not recognize 
 him. I had no time to reply to his greet- 
 ing, ere he grasped my hand and said, 
 tearfully, — 
 
 " I took your advice and have been pros- 
 pered — been blessed ; " and, pointing to a 
 building just in sight, " there's my shop 
 — I am a saved man ! " 
 
 And, as we parted again, he said, " What 
 a gulf I hung over when you rescued me ! 
 All the demons of the pit were dragging 
 me to ruin ! Thank God I was kept from 
 crime — but how narrow the escape ! and,'* 
 he added, " I now think that my dear 
 wife's prayers and labors for me have been
 
 142 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 blessed. I have a hope, for God did not 
 wholly leave me. He saved me from the 
 snare of the fowler, and set my feet in a 
 large place. The furnace of affliction was 
 seven times heated, but I am not consumed, 
 and by and by I expect to meet her whom 
 I love, and be with her forever, in the 
 presence of the dear Saviour, who loved us 
 and gave himself for us." 
 
 A coincidence connected with the facts 
 just related is worthy of record. Our ride 
 to the place was enlivened by a discussion 
 between several of the passengers on the 
 subject of benevolence. Some took the 
 ground that it was the duty of every man 
 to look out for number one. 
 
 *' But," said another, " we are consti- 
 tuted mutually dependent ; our Creator has 
 made us stewards of each other's happiness, 
 and when we assist an unfortunate neighbor
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 143 
 
 we not only discharge a sacred obligation, 
 but always receive in return a generous 
 equivalent." , 
 
 " In what way ? '' inquired his opponent. 
 
 '' Oh, if in no other, in the satisfaction that 
 flows from the performance of a deed of 
 kindness." 
 
 " Not quite substantial enough for my 
 use," returned the other. " When I in- 
 vest money, I want money, or something 
 equally tangible, in return. A conscious- 
 ness of befriending somebody won't put 
 meat into the kettle nor flour into the 
 barrel." 
 
 " But what, after all," it was further 
 urged, " is the motive of our money seek- 
 ing? Is it not that we fancy that earthly 
 possessions will make us happy ? Cer- 
 tainly. But the experience of mankind 
 shows that the soul can not be satisfied with
 
 144 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 perishable things. The million naire may be 
 more wretched than the honest beggar by 
 the wayside. The pleasure of doing . good 
 is, however, pure, ennobling, satisfying ; 
 a source of perennial enjoyment, pur- 
 chased at a cost infinitely below its real 
 value. Besides, our benefactions, bestowed 
 without the expectation of any reward save 
 that found in the pleasant thoughts and 
 emotions which result, often come back to 
 repay us in kind." 
 
 " Well, well," said the first, impatiently. 
 " I prefer to invest where there is something 
 positive to be realized. These uncertainties 
 may do for those of a less practical turn 
 of mind. I am a business man, and as 
 such I want some security when my dollars 
 are invested." 
 
 " Very well ; the apostle says, ' He that 
 giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord, and
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 145 
 
 that which he hath given shall he pay to 
 him again." 
 
 " I suppose," said the business man, 
 " that you practise as you preach." 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " Yery well. When the funds you have 
 disposed of in this way pay a dividend, let 
 us know — that is all ! " Our journey 
 just then terminating, and not having proof 
 at hand, the laugh rang against me. 
 
 On our return, after meeting the man 
 of the Landing reminiscence, I said, — 
 
 " Gentlemen, you may remember our 
 conversation on the subject of benevolence, 
 and that I was requested when any money 
 devoted to charitable purposes pays tangibly, 
 to report. I have such a report to make at 
 this time," — proceeding to repeat the story 
 of my two interviews with the stranger, 
 then showed the bank-bill that my grateful 
 10
 
 146 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 beneficiary forced into my hand. There 
 was not a dry eye present. 
 
 " Well," said my mercantile friend, 
 warmly, " you've got the case, and I 
 frankly own that I envy you your hap- 
 piness."
 
 ON THE FEONTIER. 147 
 
 A FRONTIER TRAGEDY. 
 
 " Mr. Peterson, the Norwegian, wishes 
 to see you," said the lady with whom I was 
 boarding. " Something dreadful has hap- 
 pened, I know," she added, earnestly, " he 
 looks so pale." 
 
 Going to the door, I was struck with 
 the appearance of the caller. His cheeks 
 blanched to a deathly hue, his eyes glancing 
 apprehensively about, as he said, in a low 
 voice, — 
 
 " You know Callahan, the one-armed 
 Englishman, living near me ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 *' He has disappeared ; has been mur- 
 dered, I fear."
 
 148 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 " When did you first miss him ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Three days ago," he replied. " He 
 lived alone in the cabin he was building on 
 his claim — which joins mine. Being a sin- 
 gle man, my wife had done his baking, for 
 which he always came regularly. She had 
 his bread ready for him last "Wednesday, 
 but he didn't come for it. Supposing some 
 unusual business had detained him, she 
 gave herself no uneasiness. But Thursday 
 and Friday passed without bringing him, 
 so she mentioned the circumstance to me. 
 To-day I went over to see what the matter 
 might be, but he was not there. Near his 
 shanty, however, was a great deal of blood, 
 and his hat and coat lying by." 
 
 " Did you make inquiries concerning him 
 of the neighbors? " 
 
 " I did not dare to, but came away as
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 149 
 
 jquickly as possible. I knew he had had 
 trouble with old Ringe. Only last week, 
 he said he was afraid the old man would 
 put him out of the way, and I advised him 
 not to stay alone on his claim. I have no 
 doubt his fears have been realized, poor 
 fellow! I scarcely dared leave home to 
 tell you about it, for if old Ringe, or any 
 of his tribe, suspected my errand, they 
 would serve me in the same manner. 
 Hadn't something ought to be done ? " 
 
 " Yes. We must call the neighbors to- 
 gether, and search for the missing man.'* 
 
 " When shall we do so ? " he asked. 
 It is now nightfall, and to-morrow will be 
 the Sabbath. Would it be right to attend 
 to it then ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Human life is sacred. And 
 here, on the frontier, it is necessary to take 
 prompt measures in such a case, or no per-
 
 150 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 son will be safe. We do not yet know that 
 the Englishman is dead. Perhaps he is 
 lingering in agony in some place to which, 
 after being assaulted, he was borne for con- 
 cealment. At any rate, this is, emphatically, 
 ' a work of necessity ' and ' mercy,' and 
 steps must be taken at once to ascertain 
 the facts, and if your suspicions are con- 
 firmed, secure the person or persons guilty 
 of the deed." 
 
 Messengers were accordingly sent in dif- 
 ferent directions, inviting the settlers to 
 start the next morning at nine o'clock for 
 the scene of the tragedy, seven miles 
 distant. 
 
 Some six months before the event I am 
 relating, an aged clergyman who had immi- 
 grated to the vicinity, was obliged to go 
 from home to buy hay. He invited me to 
 accompany him. Crossing the open prairie,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 151 
 
 six miles, we came to a heavy growth of tim- 
 ber belting a sluggish creek. On the verge 
 of the woods stood an unfinished cabin, be- 
 fore which were immense stacks of hay. 
 The owner was a man of small stature, with 
 curly black hair. As he mounted a stack, the 
 winds that careered across the prairie Mew 
 off his hat, revealing a good brow and face. 
 He had only one arm, with which he worked 
 with a will, cutting ofif the hay and weigh- 
 ing it. His crippled condition excited our 
 sympathy, and we helped him at his task, 
 for which he thanked us with a manly grat- 
 itude. How strange to see him in the van 
 of civilization, striving to do that with one 
 hand for which many men found two in- 
 sufiicient. Yet he had made, and drawn, 
 and put up that hay for sale (certainly no 
 light proof of his energy and foresight), 
 and for miles around his more able-bodied
 
 152 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 neighbors were coming daily to him to pur- 
 chase. Besides this, he had quite a pile of 
 rails split, ready for fencing. Falling into 
 conversation with him, I learned that he 
 was of Irish parentage, though born in 
 England, and a Roman Catholic. He was 
 candid and thoughtful, and on my friend 
 
 mentioning that I was to preach at R 
 
 River, next Lord's day, he promised to 
 attend. He kept his word, showing much 
 sensibility during service. At subsequent 
 interviews, he expressed desire for religious 
 instruction, and concern for himself as a 
 sinner against God. His ingenuousness and 
 deep feeling led me to hope for a happy 
 result in store for him, and his lonely, dis- 
 abled state — surrounded by strangers — 
 heightened my desire for his temporal and 
 spiritual prosperity. As on our first meet- 
 ing, we stood talking togethe)', an old man,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 153 
 
 withered yet sinewy and lithe, came and 
 leaned against the rail enclosure that fenced 
 in the hay. His complexion denoted a 
 mingling of races. His wrinkled face wore 
 that sinister impress that, when once seen, 
 is not forgotten ; hard, savage, insinuating, 
 a mingling of the wild beast and serpent. 
 I had not heard of him before ; knew noth- 
 ing of his antecedents, but shrunk from him 
 instinctively, as, fixing his leering eye on 
 me, he said, with an odious smile, that dis- 
 played in his almost toothless gums an 
 upper and a lower fang on each side of a 
 wolfish mouth, — 
 
 " Perhaps the gentleman is land-hunting. 
 I've got a handsome piece of property up 
 here," pointing to a cabin just in sight ; 
 " prairie and timber, that I will sell dog 
 cheap." 
 
 Replying that I did not wish to buy, as
 
 154 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 our team started, I said to mj companion, 
 with the " invincible assurance of a sudden 
 presentiment," " that man can commit mur- 
 der. How does that one-armed man dare 
 to live by him ? " Those two were " old 
 Ringe " and Callahan. 
 
 The following Sabbath saw no small stir 
 in our iisually peaceful community. From 
 various quarters men poured forth, afoot 
 and in teams, many heavily armed, for old 
 Ringe was the patriarch of a numerous and 
 motley company, in which French, English, 
 African, and Indian blood intermingled, 
 producing, with their besotted habits, a de- 
 graded and desperate band. It was a balmy 
 May morning. The air was fragrant with 
 the scent of fresh grasses and spring blossoms, 
 while the bluebird and the robin made 
 joyous music. Could it be that amid such 
 sights and sounds we were on our way to a
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 155 
 
 Bcene of blood ? On that holy, heaveu-blessed 
 morning, too ? 
 
 " There's the cabin," said a voice at my 
 side, arousing me from the revery into which 
 I had fallen. The same dreamy quiet rested 
 on it, as on the entire landscape. Not a 
 person was to be seen as we drew near, and 
 the birds sang as blithely from the covert 
 of the woods, as out among the flowering 
 hedges and shrubs of the green spreading 
 prairie, away from " habitations of cru- 
 elty." On the side of the dwelling at which 
 we stopped there was nothing to denote 
 violence, but passing around it, a sight 
 met the eye that sent a shudder through 
 every spectator. In the hay that littered 
 the ground was a deep sanguinary pool. 
 Beneath the gory mass, the blood was still 
 limpid ; the quantity leaving no doubt on 
 our minds as to the fatal character of the
 
 156 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 deed. A hoe leaned against the building, 
 a pipe, with some partially burnt matches, 
 near it ; the dead man's cap and vest were 
 not far off, while scattered around were bits 
 of clotted paper that had been written over. 
 These last I carefully gathered, placing 
 them in a rifled pocket-book I had picked 
 up. From the blood spot to the fence the 
 grass was bent, and the soil disturbed as 
 if the body had been dragged that way. On 
 the rails were crimson stains, while over 
 them, the trail could be traced towards the 
 creek, which ran between us and a tangled 
 grove. Old Einge's window, forty rods 
 north, overlooked our group, but not an 
 inmate came to ascertain the cause of the 
 gathering. It was proposed that I should 
 take some of our number with me, and make 
 inquiries there, while the rest hunted after 
 the remains of Callahan. Two good men
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. \ 157 
 
 volunteering, we started on our mission. 
 At the window, as we drew near, was 
 the old man's son-in-law, Shuber, making 
 ready to shave ; at his elbow a mulatto 
 woman watching us. Two barking curs 
 disputed the passage as we approached the 
 open door, at which Ringe's wife, also a 
 mulatto, stout and ill-favored, her heavy 
 features badly pitted by the smallpox, came 
 to the door, and called out with a hoarse, 
 savage voice, " Be still, I tell yer ! " The 
 dogs slunk away, while without another 
 word the woman turned her back on us 
 and reentered. Heavy boxes were pulled 
 roughly across the floor to serve instead 
 of chairs for us, as we followed her in. 
 One object, however, fixed our attention. 
 Opposite the entrance, on a narrow bed, 
 his legs pendent from its side, his back 
 against the wall, sat the suspected mur-
 
 158 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 derer, as if fast asleep. His lower jaw had 
 dropped down, his hands hung listlessly ; no 
 attempt at life-expression on his face to 
 conceal its deformity. His aspect was hag- 
 gard and revolting in the extreme. Pur- 
 posely raising my voice to a high key, I 
 said to the son-in-law, — 
 
 " Callahan is missing ; we wish to know 
 if you can tell us where he is ? " 
 
 Continuing to strop his razor, he replied, 
 jerking out his words, " Don't know where 
 he is, if he isn't to home ! Lives in the 
 shanty down there. I ain't the feller's 
 gardeen. Comes and goes jest when he's 
 a mind ter ; perhaps he's gone off a while. 
 He'll turn up safe and sound, I warrant yer." 
 
 " When did you see him last, Mr. 
 Shuber ? " 
 
 " 0, as to tliat, I haven't seen nothing 
 of him since Wednesday morning."
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 159 
 
 " But haven't you thought it strange 
 that he should be away so long ? " 
 
 " Don't give ourselves, up here, any 
 trouble about the little Irishman,^^ the last 
 two words pronounced with a hard sneer. 
 " He takes care of himself, and we take care 
 of ourselves." 
 
 " Well," said I, loudly, " perhaps your 
 father can tell us something about him. 
 Won't you ask him?" at which a slight 
 flush tinged the cheeks of the sleeper, then 
 quickly disappeared, while the son-in-law, 
 continuing to ply the razor, replied curtly, — 
 
 " He's asleep." 
 
 Questioning other members of the house- 
 hold, who returned confused and contra- 
 dictory answers, I again said to Shuber, 
 " Perhaps Mr. Ringe can give us some in- 
 formation about Callahan." 
 
 " Father's asleep," interposed Shuber's
 
 160 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 wife, " and we don't like to wake him 
 up." 
 
 The old man's wife had been uneasily 
 moving about, now going out of the house, 
 now returning, avoiding conversation. Turn- 
 ing suddenly to her, I said, authoritatively, 
 " We wish to ask your husband a question. 
 You must at once wake him up." 
 
 Stepping to the bed, she placed her hand 
 lightly on his knee, and ere she had uttered 
 a word, he opened his eyes, stretched up 
 his arms and yawned, saying, confusedly, — 
 
 " What — what — what do you want ? " 
 
 " These gentlemen have called to ask 
 about Callahan," said the wife, quickly. 
 " They say he's gone off, or something." 
 
 " What, the little Irishman — as I call 
 him ? Some folks call him an Englishman, 
 but I say he's an Irishman, 0, he's all 
 right. He's often taking a notion to go
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 161 
 
 nobody knows where, and to come back 
 nobody knows when. Can't put no de- 
 pendence on him. But we never give our- 
 selves any trouble about it ; we're used to 
 his tricks. Why, I don't suppose he knows 
 any more about us, or we about him, than 
 if he lived 't6ther side of the ocean. We 
 don't hold to meddling with other folks* 
 business. He'll turn up again, I'll warrant. 
 Why, you couldnH kill the little feller if 
 you should try." 
 
 " How long has he been away this 
 time ? " 
 
 " Can't say as to that. The last time we 
 saw him was Tuesday afternoon. He was 
 hoeing his potatoes there — right over 
 there," pointing through the window ; 
 "and I said to the folks, guess the little 
 Irishman means to get ahead of us. Soon 
 after I saw him go toward his shanty, to 
 11
 
 162 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 rest, 1 suppose. You see he's got only one 
 hand, and gets tired prettj easy, and then 
 goes down by the cabin, and stands there 
 and takes a smoke till he feels better. 
 "Well, as I was saying, he went down there, 
 and pretty soon I heard a gun go off down 
 that way, and Shuber says to me, ' What 
 does that mean ? ' and says I, ' 0, it's noth- 
 ing but a wagon jouncing over a root or a 
 stone in the road.' After that he was gone 
 from the shanty, and I spoke to Shuber 
 about it." 
 
 " When did you find out that he was 
 gone ? " 
 
 *' Thursday morning. You see Shuber 
 and I were at hunting deer along the creek, 
 and we had to go right close to his house, 
 for the creek is close by, you know. And 
 says I, ' Wonder if the little Irishman's up 
 yet ? Let's give him a call, and see ! ' So
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 163 
 
 I called out 'Callahan, Callahan!^ but ho 
 didn't answer. And we both hollered, but 
 all was still as death. And, says I, ' The 
 little feller sleeps sound this morning.' " 
 
 " Did you go back that way ? " 
 
 " Yes, but 'twas on 'tother side of the 
 house. And we called to him again, but 
 he didn't say a word, nor show his head." 
 
 " When you went after deer, the path led 
 you within a few feet of his dwelling and 
 the fence. Did you see any thing unusual 
 there ? any blood on the rails, or on the 
 ground, or any article of clothing ? " 
 
 "No; it was so dark you couldn't see 
 your hand before your face. Saw his vest, 
 though, kicking about, that's all ; but he's 
 a mighty careless feller about leaving his 
 things round." 
 
 " Well," said I, " you are a neighbor to 
 him, and acquainted with these woods ; w©
 
 164 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 suspect something very serious has befallen 
 him, and we want you and Shuber to go 
 and help find out about it." 
 
 They consented ; but as they walked, 
 grew excited, and talked fast ; and although 
 no charges had been made against them, 
 protested that they didn't murder " the little 
 Irishman," that they knew nothing about 
 the matter, that they believed he would turn 
 up alive and well ; — ending by stating that 
 he was killed ; that they knew who the mur- 
 derer was ; that it was a young German liv- 
 ing in the vicinity, and that they could 
 prove it. 
 
 " We think the body is in the creek," said 
 a man in a low tone. " The trail ends there 
 — we could follow it no further." 
 
 Stepping to where some willows had been 
 felled into tlie stream, I was searching 
 among them, when I caught sight of a pair
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 165 
 
 of boots floating among the branches. They 
 were fastened together with a rope. Taking 
 hold of this to draw them out, to my surprise 
 I found that they were on the remains of the 
 Englishman. He was naked to the waist ; 
 his only hand was lashed to his feet ; and as 
 I deposited him on the bank, the blood still 
 stood in what seemed to be deep gashes in 
 the back. I had just stooped down to ascer- 
 tain the character of the wounds, when, to 
 our horror, old Hinge, officiously gathering 
 a handful of dry leaves and grass, with a 
 grim smile wiped away the blood, saying, — 
 
 " That's only where the blood has settled 
 like." 
 
 He knew. The marks were indentations 
 caused by the twigs on which the body had 
 rested. Death was inflicted by a heavy 
 charge of slugs shot into the back under the 
 right shoulder.
 
 166 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 Old Ringe sat over the ghastly form of 
 Callahan like an ogre, gesticulating with 
 the hand that held the clotted leaves, by- 
 turns asserting his innocence, and railing at 
 the unconscious dead. 
 
 " I've nothing against the little Irishman. 
 We had a little difference, it is true,* but I 
 jest taught him his manners, and he's been 
 good enough since then. We haven't had 
 a word together since last spring, when I 
 slapped him, and he's been as quiet as a 
 pig ever since." 
 
 His manner and language were horrible. 
 
 While waiting for the coroner, some of 
 us went to a spring, a few rods distant, to 
 allay our thirst. Old Ringe and his son-in- 
 law followed, incessantly talking. He re- 
 iterated that he was guiltless, and impli- 
 cated the young German. At length I 
 abrubtly said, —
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 167 
 
 " Mr. Riiige, it is an old proverb that 
 * murder will out.' I have much faith in 
 that saying, and for this reason : There 
 is a God. His eye is ever on us. He has 
 said, 'Thou shalt not kill.' He can alone 
 give life. It is one of the greatest crimes 
 possible for man wantonly to destroy that 
 life. God is the Governor of the world, 
 and he will punish the murderer. For 
 the safety of society, and that bad men 
 may be deterred from this highest form of 
 sin, he takes special pains to bring to light 
 the murderer. From him there can be no 
 such thing as escape. Man is sometimes 
 deceived and foiled, but God never ! " 
 
 His countenance grew dark. The clamor 
 of his tongue ceased, and for a few mo- 
 ments we were permitted to think in quiet 
 as we stretched ourselves by the fountain's 
 side.
 
 168 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 Returning to the cabin, I had seated 
 myself on a log, Ringe and Shuber by 
 my side, — for they did not lose sight of 
 me, — when the former stealthily left me, 
 and went to the south side of the dwelling. 
 A small ell had been attached to the main 
 building. That only had been occupied 
 by the owner, as the rest of the cabin was 
 unfinished. In front of the ell was a high 
 rail fence, making a snug enclosure a few 
 feet square before the door. Ringe stopped 
 at the little yard, and stood intently look- 
 ing, now on the ground, now in at the 
 door. Was he afraid that some clew had 
 been left there by the assassin? His 
 manner was eager and shy. Springing 
 over the fence, I began to pick up frag- 
 ments of letters thickly scattered among 
 the loose straw, when suddenly it occurred 
 to me that that was the place where the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 169 
 
 fiend had laid in wait for his victim. The 
 Englishman had been shot on the other 
 side of his house. From the condition of 
 his field, and the fact that his hoe and 
 pipe were near where he fell, it was plain 
 that he had been hoeing, and had left his 
 work in order to rest and smoke a while. 
 The murderer having crept into his cabin, 
 had no doubt shot him then. But if so, 
 as there was no window on that side of 
 the house, an aperture must have been 
 made in the building, through which to 
 take aim. A bed stood before the open 
 door against the northern wall. Getting 
 upon that, I saw an opening had indeed 
 been made. It looked out over the bloody 
 spot. Calling a neighbor, and directing 
 him to stand by the spot, I found he was 
 in exact range. 
 
 Ringe and Shuber were arrested on sus- 
 picion.
 
 170 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 The justice, before whom the first trial 
 was to occur, resided at a newly-settled 
 town, twelve miles from our place. A 
 friend, who acted as sheriff, invited me to« 
 ride over with him. Before the justice's 
 cabin were a large number of persons watch- 
 ing our buggy as we drove up. Old Ringe 
 and his friends were among them, and, as 
 I alighted, he came forward, extending his 
 hand as to an old acquaintance, saying, — 
 
 '' Welcome ! welcome ! Glad to see the 
 minister, — was afraid you wouldn't be here. 
 You will want justice done. You won't 
 stand by and see an innocent man like me 
 falsely condemned. Look at my gray hairs 
 and my dim eyes. Why, sir, these poor 
 eyes couldn't see to shoot a man, even if 
 I wished to take the life of a fellow-creature. 
 But why should I do such a thing? I am 
 almost in my grave, — have but a few
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 171 
 
 days here, at most. No, no, you are a 
 minister of Christ, and I know you can't 
 have an old man like me hung, — I know 
 you can't ! " 
 
 This appeal, so unexpected, so affecting 
 in its allusion to his advanced years, 
 uttered in the thrilling tones of one who 
 felt that his life was at stake, came near 
 unmanning me. Releasing myself from his 
 grasp, I said, aside to the sheriff, " How is 
 this ? Persons arrested for a capital offence 
 at large — prisoners and witnesses mingling 
 freely together ! What does this mean ? 
 Why, they can agree on any testimony they 
 choose ! " 
 
 " Oh," replied the easy official, " never 
 mind ; the lawyers will pick the witnesses 
 to pieces when they come to the stand ! " 
 
 At the hotel a mile off, after tea, old 
 Ringe met me again, with the most touch-
 
 172 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 ing and insinuating appeals. They were 
 hard to withstand, even from him. And 
 when, next morning, he renewed his en- 
 treaties, I said, — 
 
 " Mr. Ringe, it is useless to appeal to me 
 in this way. You know that I would not 
 wrong you for the world. I shall state, as 
 a witness, only what I have seen and heard, 
 no more, no less. I can keep back nothing. 
 I shall add nothing. This is all I could 
 promise the dearest friend on earth." 
 
 As I spoke, a stern, bitter glance shot 
 from his eyes, and a deathly pallor spread 
 over his face. He avoided me from that 
 time. 
 
 "Would you like to ride a few miles 
 before court?" asked the sheriff. "I am 
 going for two of Ringe's daughters, who 
 were from li^me at the time of the murder. 
 He says he can prove by them that the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 173 
 
 young German intended to kill Callahan. 
 He states that they dropped corn for the 
 German a short time before the murdered 
 man was shot, and that he had tried to 
 hire them to poison Callahan, that he might 
 get his ' claim.' " 
 
 " Well," said I, " there is one request I 
 wish to make ; and that is, that the girls 
 shall not be tampered with by the father, 
 or any of his witnesses." 
 
 " Don't see the need of that. But if you 
 wish it, I can take them to another house, 
 and keep them there till you see the justice 
 about it." 
 
 They were singular enough in appearance. 
 Short, stout, tawny ; with large, oval eyes ; 
 ears so long as to look inhuman ; bold faces, 
 and an oily speech. I had heard that they 
 could lie and steal, and what might they 
 not do, if their own father was ready to
 
 174 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 testify that their employer had sought to 
 bribe them to poison his neighbor ? 
 
 "Father didn't kill that man!" said one 
 of them, sharply. 
 
 " How do you know that ? " asked the 
 officer. 
 
 " Because he's almost blind, he's so old. 
 He couldn't see," she added, " if he was 
 here in this wagon, to shoot the tail of 
 that horse ! " 
 
 " How does that agree with his deer- 
 hunting before daylight ? " said the sheriff. 
 
 The girls were kept secluded, despite the 
 ravings of the father and the arts of his 
 supporters ; and it was significant that they 
 were not summoned as witnesses, nor was 
 the German accused. 
 
 During the trial, the State's attorney, 
 taking me aside, said, " Search should be 
 made through the neighborhood in which
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 175 
 
 the murder was committed, for evidence 
 that may serve as a clew to the murderer. 
 I am persuaded that if any thing can yet 
 be found, you can discover it. "Would you 
 be deputized for that purpose ? " 
 
 " Yes, rather than let the criminal es- 
 cape." 
 
 His horse and buggy were placed at my 
 service, and, accompanied by a Frenchman, 
 and a substantial farmer, I soon arrived at 
 our place of destination. Cabin after cabin 
 was visited, boxes and trunks opened, beds 
 stripped, floors taken up, each nook and 
 cranny scrutinized, without avail. Repair- 
 ing to the creek, I noticed that on the 
 stumps of the willows, that had been felled 
 to conceal the body of the murdered man, 
 gaps in the ax used, had left their impress 
 on the wood. The farmer at once cut otF 
 the willow stumps, and taking them with
 
 176 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 US, we examined the axes in the neighbor- 
 liood. In Ringe's house was one, the edge 
 of which corresponded perfectly with the 
 impression in the wood. The steel and the 
 helve were also bloody. 
 
 "Now look sharp for bloody garments," 
 said I. 
 
 A low, unlighted attic, to which access 
 was had by a ladder, held the accumulated 
 cast-o£fs of the household. Such a dusty, 
 filthy collection ! Only the friendship cher- 
 ished for the inoffensive deceased, deepened 
 by that peculiar interest felt in one for 
 whom the Christian minister has toiled and 
 prayed, and a strong desire that justice 
 should be done, could have borne me 
 through the repulsive task. The search 
 was vain. 
 
 " Mr. D., hadn't we better give it up ? " 
 cried the farmer. " It's getting late, and 
 we've seen all tliis house has to show ! "
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 177 
 
 "A moment more," I replied, as I remem- 
 bered that two beds, lying side by side on 
 the floor, had not been removed. Lifting 
 them up, we found beneath one a man's 
 shirt, the arm and shoulder saturated with 
 blood. 
 
 As we reentered the court-room with the 
 discoveries we had made, a deep silence 
 prevailed. We had brought also another 
 witness, who testified that old Ringe at- 
 tempted, on one occasion, to burn Callahan 
 to death ; and that the old man had re- 
 peatedly said in his presence that he meant 
 to kill him yet. The ax, willows, and 
 garment were critically examined, the coun- 
 sel for the prisoners not being able to ex- 
 plain away the evidence thus presented. 
 
 That night I slept in the same room with 
 one of Ringe's lawyers. I shall not soon 
 forget him, and the developments of our 
 12
 
 178 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 interview. He had a calm, keen eye ; dark 
 hair thrown back from a finely-turned fore- 
 head ; a physiognomy sincere and refined. 
 In his address there was a perfect air of 
 good-breeding that inspired respect. He had 
 an acute and logical mind, liberal acquire- 
 ments, and a well-balanced intellectual and 
 moral character. He realized my ideal of 
 a learned, cultivated, upright lawyer. A 
 protege of Hon. Mr. Giddings, he had come 
 to Minnesota on account of impaired health, 
 and this was his first case in the territory. 
 After retiring to our room, he wished to 
 know the particulars of the terrible tragedy. 
 The narrative impressed him deeply. I 
 soon after fell asleep, but was in a short 
 time awakened by his groaning and rest- 
 lessness. 
 
 "Are you ill?" I asked. 
 
 " No," he replied ; " but it is so horrible, 
 so horrible. — thnt murder!"
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 179 
 
 Again, as he turned from side to side, 
 he exclaimed, " Blood cries from the ground 
 for vengeance ! " 
 
 And this was the man who, in the court- 
 room, was so unimpassioned, permitting 
 nothing to pass that was adverse to his 
 client, without the most searching scrutiny ! 
 
 Before day broke, he said, " I have been 
 dreadfully harassed by this case." Then, 
 after a few moments, he added, " I have 
 no doubt of ^ the guilt of that old man. 
 He's the murderer ; but I can clear him. 
 My partner has proposed a plan, which I 
 am not at liberty to explain, that must be 
 effectual. What shall I do ? Help spring 
 the legal trap, and let the criminal loose, 
 and thus succeed professionally, or not ? " 
 
 " Let me entreat you," said I, " to do 
 right. God will bless you in it, and you 
 • will have a clear conscience."
 
 180 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 "I will think it over," he replied, "and 
 see what I can do," and he relapsed into 
 his uneasy slumbers. 
 
 With eager scrutiny I studied his coun- 
 tenance in court the next day to ascertain 
 his decision. In vain. I trembled for him, 
 so severely loyal did he seem to his client's 
 interests, and true to the pride of success. 
 But his sterling, moral principle prevailed 
 and Ringe and Shuber were recommitted. 
 
 He knew my anxiety, and said, as he 
 passed from the court-room, with a happy 
 smile upon his handsome face, — 
 
 " Did I do right ? " 
 
 As for myself, procuring a box, I put the 
 ax, willows, and shirt in it, in the presence 
 of suitable witnesses, and committed the 
 whole to the justice for safe keeping. 
 
 No jail had been built. The sheriff, 
 therefore, took the accused to his own
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 181 
 
 home. He lived quite a distance from the 
 culprit's place, and it was not long before 
 the cunning old man had so won upon his 
 unsuspecting nature, as to be permitted to 
 hire out as a day laborer. Wherever he 
 went he pleaded his cause so effectually 
 that the public mind became* strongly ex- 
 cited in his behalf. He made also another 
 diversion in his own favor. Among his 
 children was one, familiarly called Bill, 
 who was about eighteen years of age. He 
 was the youngest of his boys, as well as 
 the whitest. He was a great rogue, and 
 was well known as such. His father called 
 him half-witted, but he was an adept in vil- 
 lainy. Horse-Stealing, robbing trunks, mon- 
 ey-drawers, and stores of their goods, were 
 among his exploits. Over the vices of his 
 boy, Ringe whined and groaned among 
 his new friends, and at last accused Bill of
 
 182 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 being the murderer. The lie was believed. 
 When the witnesses of the State went to 
 the second trial, they found that the settlers 
 at the countj-seat and vicinity had pre- 
 judged the case. A jury was drawn from 
 the material at hand, and, although on hear- 
 ing both sides most of them modified their 
 views of the case, such was the previous 
 condition of their minds, coupled with the 
 fact, perhaps, as stated afterward by a 
 juror, that several of their number were 
 "opposed to capital punishment," Ringe 
 and his confederate were cleared. 
 
 The terror that this result inspired 
 among those who had been active in en- 
 deavoring to bring the perpetrators of the 
 murder to light, can not be described. 
 
 The Norwegian went armed. Every 
 night he and his family slept in the 
 wretched attic of his low-roofed cabin,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 183 
 
 drawing the ladder up after them on re- 
 tiring. But this state of things could not 
 be endured. A party of resolute men 
 went to the cabin of liberated desperadoes, 
 and warned them off, on pain of forcible 
 ejection. They soon disappeared. 
 
 The murdered man's valuable " claim," 
 with its movable property, that his assassins 
 had intended should become theirs, were 
 sold at a good price. The fragments of 
 paper which I had saved, on being put 
 together, proved to be a letter from a 
 brother of Callahan, residing in Lowell, 
 Massachusetts, to whom we had the pleasure 
 of sending the avails of the estate. 
 
 Who can predict the next new thing that 
 will transpire on the frontier ? One day, 
 some two months after Ringe's final trial, 
 an elderly man called on me, and said, — 
 
 " I have come to ask, sir, if you will not
 
 184 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 make a five o'clock appointment, some 
 Sabbath, to preach at my place. We have 
 a very respectable community there, sir, 
 now. Many new families have come in, 
 and we would like to hear a gospel ser- 
 mon now and then." 
 
 " Where do you live ? " I inquired. 
 
 " At Slough Creek, seven miles from 
 here." 
 
 AsscQting to the request, the next Sab- 
 bath found me on my way there. 
 
 " Can you tell me where Mr. C. lives ? " 
 I asked of a well-dressed woman whom I 
 overtook. 
 
 " Just through the woods, a few rods, 
 the first house," she replied. 
 
 On arriving, what was my surprise to 
 find that the meeting was to be at Ringe's 
 log-house, now in new hands, and refitted 
 and enlarged so as to present quite a neat
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 185 
 
 and comfortable appearance. There was 
 a good attendance and earnest attention. 
 Among the audience, here and there, was 
 one who had been partially of Ringe's 
 company. They listened with no less re- 
 spect because of the part I had taken in 
 seeking to make the power of the law felt 
 among the lawless dwellers upon our 
 frontier.
 
 186 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 FRONTIER WOMEN. 
 
 The gentler traits of womanly character 
 find little expression on the outskirts of 
 civilization. When the wife and mother 
 turns her back on her Eastern home, she 
 enters on scenes which change the whole 
 current of her existence, and often seem to 
 make her a new being. It is interesting 
 to notice how the transition process varies 
 in different persons. 
 
 Some are persuaded into emigration. 
 They start on the journey reluctantly, 
 clinging to the old, familiar places. They 
 have no day-dreams to lure them — no 
 heart for the transplanting. From regard 
 to others they join the restless tide that
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 187 
 
 sets toward the West. Others take the 
 " Western fever " as readily as their hus- 
 bands, and clothe the stern realities of 
 removal with a roseate hue, seeing only 
 ease, comfort, competency in prospective. 
 But when, at the end of their journey, they 
 take up their abode in a wild prairie, 
 
 " Alone, alone, all, all alone, 
 Alone on a wide, wide sea " 
 
 of vegetation, and dead-level monotony; 
 no churches, no school-houses, scarcely a 
 neighbor to speak to, friends and kindred 
 far away, — how the thermometer of the 
 feelings goes down ! how the air-castles 
 vanish ! 
 
 But if you think either of these classes 
 make poor pioneers, you mistake. 
 
 There was Mrs. S., a practical, matter- 
 of-fact person, unsusceptible to the love
 
 188 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 of adventure or of change. Submit any 
 scheme to her, and, however dazzling it 
 might be to an ardent nature, she looked 
 at it in the light of fact, reckoning up the 
 pros and cons with mathematical coolness. 
 When, therefore, her husband became ex- 
 cited by accounts of the cheap lands, sure 
 to rise, the fertile soil and healthful climate 
 of Minnesota, she was calm. When he 
 suggested emigrating, she was unmoved. 
 Toil, deprivation, disappointment were in- 
 visible to liis enthusiasm, but to her they 
 stood revealed as verities, and to argue 
 with her was useless. Indeed, looking at 
 their present condition, why should she be 
 in haste to abandon it for a life both new 
 and dubious ? Their pleasant home, with 
 its broad acres and fine buildings, they 
 owned. Educational privileges were ex- 
 cellent. Her husband was honored with
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 189 
 
 office in church and state. But the more 
 Mr. S. talked about a removal, the more 
 his zeal was inflamed. The wife saw that 
 his happiness was bound up in the matter, 
 and more than that, his health, perhaps. 
 Often prostrated by acute disease, he had 
 been recommended to try the climate of 
 the Northwest as a remedy. This consid- 
 eration turned the scale in his favor. The 
 homestead was sold, the furniture, farm 
 implements, &c., advertised for sale at pub- 
 lic auction. The avails of these, together 
 with the " first payment " on the house, 
 were to furnish the money for use in the 
 new home. 
 
 Mr. S., however, after all his pleading, 
 felt a little disheartened, when, the very 
 night before the appointed sale, his goods 
 took fire and burned up. But the wife had 
 decided to go, and this untoward event did
 
 190 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 not discourage her. As they were to travel 
 by their own conveyance, the emigrant 
 wagon was made ready, and, with bedding, 
 food, and cooking utensils packed, poultry- 
 crate lashed behind, and the children 
 aboard, they started on their thousand 
 miles^ journey ! The first day all went 
 ^' merry as a marriage bell," but at night, 
 Mr. S. came down with ague and fever. 
 He was utterly prostrated, and proposed 
 to give up the expedition and return. 
 
 " No ! " replied the wife, who had as- 
 sumed the office of driver, "I am not 
 going to drive these horses back again 
 and be laughed at by the neighbors ! Be- 
 sides, if Minnesota will cure you, you 
 need more than ever to go there now, and 
 / shall not give up till we are there." 
 
 She kept her word ; becoming coach- 
 man, doctress, nurse, cook, and guide.
 
 ON THE FKONTIER. 191 
 
 She selected the camping-place at night, 
 groomed the horses, took care not only of 
 the babies, but of her husband. It was 
 she that inquired the route, led the horses 
 safely around " sloughs," and forded 
 bridgeless streams, and, at last Mr. S. 
 being still helpless, she picked out a 
 " claim " on the frontier, and a valu- 
 able one it was, combining water, grass- 
 land, plowing, timber, and nearness to a 
 young town. She made their temporary 
 shanty comfortable as possible, until, his 
 payments coming in and his land rising, 
 he was able to build a framed house. Not 
 a word of complaint, reproach, or discour- 
 agement passed her lips through all this, 
 nor did sickness and danger appall her. 
 
 An incident will illustrate her self-pos- 
 session. There had been occasional depre- 
 dations by the Indians. Still further on
 
 192 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 the frontier a bloody massacre of whites 
 had taken place, and women were carried 
 off captives. There were rumors of fur- 
 ther trouble, as the savages were concen- 
 trating in force, and, mounted on their 
 ponies, thev could make a long sweep in 
 a night. 
 
 One day alone, Mrs. S. stood before the 
 looking-glass attending to her toilet. The 
 cabin door was open, and her back toward 
 it. Suddenly, she saw in the mirror the 
 reflection of an Indian entering. Before 
 she could turn herself, he had glided 
 across the room in his soft moccasins, and 
 laid hold of her. She gave no sign of 
 . terror, however — always the proper con- 
 duct in dealing with savages, as they re- 
 spect courage, and suspect some hidden 
 power behind it. He gently seized her 
 long, flowing locks, remarkable for their
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 193 
 
 luxuriant beauty, and measuring them 
 with his arm, uttered an admiring excla- 
 mation, then released her, and departed 
 as he came ! 
 
 Mrs. N., another Western woman, was 
 also quite a heroine. She was hostess of 
 the first tavern at which the stage left me 
 on arriving in Minnesota. It was a rough 
 log-house. There was in process of build- 
 ing a small framed addition to it. Before 
 this was a cellar, dug in anticipation of 
 another " raising." Across this excavation 
 we had to walk on a narrow plank to gain 
 admittance to the house. The doctors I 
 had left behind cautioned me not to sit or 
 sleep in a current of air. That night, in 
 company with a clerical friend, who felt 
 quite merry at the aspect of things, I 
 slept with the stars full in sight through 
 the roof, while the winds sighed, and wliis- 
 13
 
 194 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 tied, and moaned, and frolicked in and 
 out the apartment, as the humor suited 
 them. However, the next morning found 
 us both, to our surprise, invigorated by 
 the air baths we had taken. 
 
 At breakfast, I felt a little anxious to 
 know how our merriment over hotel-life 
 in Minnesota had been received by our 
 landlady, who must have heard some of 
 our criticisms. She impressed me as a 
 lady of culture, and took our remarks as 
 a matter of course. We soon learned 
 something of her history. Her husband 
 was from the East, a man of some prop- 
 erty. He made his claim where I now 
 found him, when there was scarcely a 
 cabin in the regiou, confident that the site 
 was a good one for a town. It was a 
 wild, lonely spot, on the margin of a 
 foaming stream, and between huge, shaggy
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 196 
 
 blujBfs, crowned with forests, in which the 
 Indian and the wild beast roamed. Aside 
 from the fish and game which abounded, 
 all their supplies were brought from some 
 trading point on the Mississippi. When 
 her husband was on his long journeys for 
 this purpose, she was sometimes left alone. 
 
 " Did you not feel discontented under 
 such circumstances ? " we asked. 
 
 " Not in ihe least. My husband thoiight 
 it best to remove here, and that was 
 enough. What was best for him, was best 
 for me!'' 
 
 ^'But were you not troubled by the In- 
 dians ? " 
 
 "Yes, at that time, very much. They 
 were afraid of our workmen, and would 
 behave very well when a few white men 
 were around, but they always endeavored 
 to impose on us when unprotected."
 
 19i3 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 " What did you do at such times ? " 
 *' Put on a bold face, and let them see 
 that I did not fear them. I am aston- 
 ished at the nerve I had. One day my 
 husband was away. Quite suddenly a Si- 
 oux came into the house, and, without 
 saying a word, took a seat. Another fol- 
 lowed, and another, until a dozen had 
 entered. Perceiving that I was alone, 
 they commenced searching the house for 
 plunder ; examining boxes, trunks, and 
 barrels. I had, however, by way of pre- 
 caution, concealed what I could, and they 
 did not find much. But they soon grew 
 saucy and turbulent, and what added to 
 my apprehension was, the fact that the 
 leader of the party was half intoxicated. 
 Still, as they had no arms, I thought I 
 could manage them. After a time the 
 chief chanced to see my husband's rifle,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 197 
 
 hanging overhead. It was loaded and 
 capped. He started to get it. I divined 
 his object, and started too, and as he was 
 taking it down, I said, sternly, — 
 
 "Put that rifle back!" 
 
 He made a taunting gesture, and I at- 
 tempted to wrest the rifle from him. We 
 struggled, — I with the strength of despe- 
 ration, for I well knew it would be a dan- 
 gerous weapon in his hands, besides it 
 was my only protection. None of his fol- 
 lowers interfered while we contended for 
 the mastery, but my courage led him to 
 suspect that help was at hand, and, still 
 grasping the gun, he asked, — 
 
 " White man coming back bime-by ? " 
 A question which meant. Will he be long 
 in coming ? I quickly replied, — 
 
 " No. White man coming back bime-by 
 quick ! " This startled him, for he knew
 
 198 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 he had provoked retaliation, and hastily 
 leaving, followed by his troop, they mounted 
 their ponies, and drove off at full speed. 
 
 " I had also," said she, " a little adven- 
 ture with the wolves. One day, feeling 
 lonely, I spent the afternoon at a neigh- 
 bor's. On my return at dusk, there had 
 been a light fall of snow. When nearly 
 home, I noticed that a large gray wolf 
 was stealthily following me. I entered the 
 door and closed it instantly ; but, would 
 you believe me, that creature, being very 
 hungry, I suppose, sat watching on the 
 door-step all that long winter's night ! He 
 fled next morning at the approach of a 
 settler." 
 
 There was Mrs. L., too, a little butterfly 
 of a woman, who had always been happy 
 in Xew England. Her husband was a 
 hard-working man, and took great pride
 
 I NOTICED A Grey Wolf. Frontier, p. 198-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 199 
 
 in beautifying the cottage he had built. 
 It was not paid for, however, and at 
 length he wearied somewhat of the toil 
 needed to clear it of pecuniary encum- 
 brance. Hearing of the cheap lands of 
 the West did not lighten his burden, and 
 he decided to emigrate. She joined in 
 the project with alacrity, for her fancy 
 painted a prairie home as a garden of 
 delights. She reached their El Dorado 
 under most forbidding circumstances. It 
 was in late autumn, when the landscape 
 stretched away bloomless and sear, and 
 the cold rains were falling. It was indeed 
 dismal without, and the cramped, uncouth 
 log-and-mud house which received her as 
 boarder, compared illy with the tasteful 
 dwelling she had left behind. What a 
 revulsion of feeling was hers ! She wept 
 for weeks, and refused to be comforted.
 
 200 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 Some of the settlers thought her case 
 hopeless — that she would never do for 
 the West, mere New England doll that 
 she was ! But she had her cry out ; and, 
 like a true woman, when her husband, 
 apparently moved by her grief, and home- 
 sick himself, — yet secretly glad of a pre- 
 text, — offered to give up and return, she 
 resented it! 
 
 " Go back ! " she exclaimed ; " no, I 
 shall not be ready to return until our 
 Massachusetts friends see that we have 
 been successful in coming out, and have 
 been profited by the change." And of all 
 busy women, Mrs. L. became one of the 
 busiest. Henceforth it was smiles and 
 work with her, and her quiet laugh and 
 cheerful face made sunshine of darkest 
 days. 
 
 Often her little figure might be seen
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 201 
 
 tugging her baby across the prairie to a 
 neighbor's, to collect rare seeds, or bar- 
 gain for hens. Her faculties were ever 
 on the alert, devising something to make 
 home comfortable; nor did snow, rain, 
 loneliness, or sickness diminish her zeal. 
 Neuralgia, aggravated by exposure, low 
 diet and miasma, often prevails on the 
 frontier. I have seen the hardiest pio- 
 neers writhe in agony, completely unmanned 
 by it — never at such times venturing into 
 the open air. Mrs. L. did not escape the 
 disease. But what was my astonishment, 
 on one of those doleful days in November, 
 when a drizzling rain, driven by a cold 
 wind, " sent mildew into the bones," to 
 see Mrs. L. perched on the top of a load 
 of lumber, drawn by oxen. Her face was 
 bound up as if nursing the toothache, and 
 she told me, with a ringing laugh, that
 
 202 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 she had ridden twenty-four miles at that 
 snail's pace, and had had three teeth ex- 
 tracted ! 
 
 Mrs. Myers, too, was another heroine 
 whom I unexpectedly met, leading almost 
 the life of a recluse in the deep gloom of 
 a humble forest home. It was on this 
 wise. Passing through the shaded path of 
 
 heavy-timbered land, on K River, in 
 
 a journey which I made on horseback, I 
 came to the brink of a roaring torrent 
 where stood a mill. As I was looking for 
 a i^ace to feed my horse, a man came for- 
 ward, extended his hand, and said, — 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. D. ? What 
 brought you away up here ? Don't you 
 
 know me? My name is. Myers, of P , 
 
 Massachusetts." But what a change a few 
 months of another climate and new habits 
 had wrought in my old friend. From the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 203 
 
 pale, almost effeminate dealer in dry goods, 
 he had grown to be bushy-whiskered and 
 portly, his cheeks fairly shaking with fat. 
 " Do you live here ? '' I asked, 
 " Yes ; came here last fall, with my wife, 
 and wfeitered among the bears and wolves, 
 making shingles. You see," said he, al- 
 luding to his weighty appearance, " I have 
 been a gainer by it. Never knew what 
 it was to have an appetite before. The 
 cold last winter made me ravenous; and 
 though we had no market, you see we 
 did not exactly starve. But, come, my 
 wife will want to see you ; the face of an 
 old acquaintance will be next to going 
 home again." 
 
 A low, snug shanty of oaken boards, 
 just large enough to admit in its one 
 room a bedstead, stove, table, and a few 
 home-made chairs, was Mrs. Myers's em-
 
 20 J: ON TUE FRONTIER. 
 
 pire — quite in contrast with her Eastern 
 style. She was a gentle, lady-like person, 
 had been a successful teacher before mar- 
 riage, and was an accomplished musician. 
 She cordially greeted me, saying, — 
 
 " I shall make no apologies. I am too 
 glad to see a human being in these wilds, 
 to care for aught else. Since we came 
 here, not a person has been at our place, 
 save the few who chanced here for shin- 
 gles, all strangers to me, and such a long, 
 cold winter I never experienced. Until 
 the snow melted, late in the spring, we 
 were quite alone." 
 
 " Were you not homesick and gloomy ? " 
 " Only once, and tliat was the last of 
 February. It had been an almost uninter- 
 rupted succession of storms. It was noth- 
 ing but snow, snow, snow. We could 
 not get out for any purpose, and our sup-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 205 
 
 plies were running low. We seemed to be 
 completely shut away from the world — 
 the only living creatures, save a neighbor 
 in the cabin at the extremity of the woods, 
 that we knew of, being a pack of wolves 
 that sometimes swept by. On one occa- 
 sion, my husband estimated that there 
 were not less than thirty in the pack. 
 Tiiat was a dismal time ; and one stormy 
 day, when the air was filled with snow, and 
 the winds were sighing through the trees, my 
 heart sank within me. And I rather sus- 
 pect," said she, archly glancing at her hus- 
 band, " that Mr. Myers did not feel much 
 better than I did. Just then, when I felt 
 like giving up entirely, I heard a little 
 song — a clear, cheerful piping of a bird. 
 You can not tell how it thrilled and 
 cheered me. I looked from the window 
 to see from whence the sound came, and
 
 206 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 there, right on the corner of our dwelling, 
 sat the tiniest creature, caroling just as 
 if it was June. This gave us both fresh 
 courage. Said I to husband, — 
 
 " ' If that wee bit of a thing can sing, 
 much more can I ! ' and I struck up a 
 hymn of praise to God, to which a certain 
 bass voice made an excellent accompani- 
 ment. We felt better, and that's the last 
 of the blues wdth us ; though of course we 
 had some hard rubs, and had to endure 
 some things that in New England would 
 have made us cowards. As, for instance, 
 when our house fell down." 
 
 " Fell down ! how did it happen ? " 
 " You look astonished. I don't wonder 
 at it. You see, when we came, husband 
 could get nothing but green oak boards 
 to build a temporary shelter with. And 
 what with the shrinking, and the wrench-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 207 
 
 ing by the winds, and the snapping of the 
 nails by the frost, one dark, stormy night, 
 after we had been asleep some time, we 
 were awakened by a strange noise. Look- 
 ing about, how were we astonished to find 
 that the boards had fallen apart, leaving 
 us without protection ! Hurriedly putting 
 on our clothes, we had to scamper for the 
 cabin I have spoken of for shelter till 
 morning, when husband went to work and 
 put this up, which has served us thus 
 far." 
 
 Another case occurs to me. 
 
 On the south side of a little grove, at 
 the very outpost of immigration, was 
 Charles Wallace's log-house. He was from 
 a thriving manufacturing town in Massa- 
 chusetts. His business as a journeyman 
 carriage-maker had enabled him to pro- 
 vide comfortably for his young family, and
 
 208 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 pay something annually toward the house 
 in which they dwelt. It was true lie had 
 to work steadily and hard, and made 
 what some would call slow progress to- 
 ward competency ; still the house was eli- 
 gible property, neat, commodious, modern, 
 and the little garden back of it yielded a 
 bountiful supply of vegetables for the table. 
 School, also, and religious privileges were 
 all that could be wished. 
 
 Mr. Wallace was a thoughtful, reading 
 man, of real worth and Christian princi- 
 ples, but very diffident. Men less well- 
 informed, of sounder intellect, blest with 
 self-esteem, and put-yourself-ahead-ativeness, 
 would cut quite a figure in the eyes of an 
 admiring public, while he, modest soul, 
 was passed by unnoticed, unappreciated by 
 the discriminating crowd. He had, how- 
 ever, a noble, generous heart, and glowing
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 209 
 
 desires to be of use as a disciple of Him 
 who went about doing good. Tliese dispo- 
 sitions and aspirations, however, were re- 
 pressed by his confirmed habits of self-dis^ 
 trust, and he was therefore often dissatis- 
 fied with his manner of life. He had 
 read much of the spiritual destitutions of 
 the great West, and came to think that if 
 he could once be established where calls 
 for laborers in the world's harvest were 
 urgent, and laborers were few, that among 
 new faces he could break the fetters of 
 self-distrust, and do something for God and 
 humanity. Moreover, one dull business 
 season his employer failed, owing him 
 quite a sum, which could not be collected. 
 Now he turned his face towards the set- 
 ting sun in good earnest. But the wife, 
 how could he bear to tear her away from 
 scenes so dear to her, and kindred more 
 14
 
 210 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 precious than life itself! He well knew 
 the struggle it would cost her to leave 
 New England, with its prized privileges, 
 congenial society, and domestic comforts. 
 She was one of those dear, loving crea- 
 tures that love on, and love ever ; the very 
 trees', rocks, and rivers of her childhood 
 and youth would cling to her affections 
 with a deep grasp, and father, mother, 
 brothers, sisters, how could she part from 
 them for the distant and unknown West! 
 He could scarcely hope for her consent 
 to go, but had it cheerfully, whole-heart- 
 edly, yet with irrepressible tears and many 
 forebodings, of which she did not speak. 
 
 Mr. Wallace had a clerical relative in 
 Minnesota, who had influenced him in his 
 decision to remove there ; and that his fam- 
 ily might go at once to some definite 
 point, or home of their own, he wrote to
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 211 
 
 the clergyman, commissioning him to pur- 
 chase for him a farm. He did so. But 
 on Mr. Wallace's arrival, it fell so far be- 
 low his expectations that he sold it at a 
 sacrifice, and went forth prospecting, locat- 
 ing at length where this account found 
 them. It was late in the fall ere he could 
 begin to build his cabin ; the old settlers' 
 story as to the mildness of the winters in 
 that climate relieved his anxiety, however. 
 The winter, nevertheless, set in early, and 
 proved to be one of the coldest on record. 
 He was overtaken without due preparation 
 as to provisions. Nor was it otherwise 
 with his neighbors, all new comers, like 
 himself. The rigors of the prairie made 
 it perilous to venture from home, and our 
 emigrants, fresh from the abundance of the 
 East, were brought to most wretched fare. 
 Mr. W. was physically rugged, knowing
 
 212 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 nothing of the horrors of dyspepsia; and 
 if there was only a sufficiency for the 
 table, it mattered not to him what it was. 
 Not so, unfortunately, with the invalid 
 wife. There was little, at best, that she 
 could eat that suited her diseased condi- 
 tion, and those very articles it was impos- 
 sible to procure. One who was, providen- 
 tially, an inmate of the household through 
 the terrors and deprivations of that winter, 
 
 "I had read of the rigors of the frozen 
 North, and here I had a taste of them. 
 For months, in the most sheltered nooks, 
 and on the sunniest roof-sides, the snow 
 gave no signs of thawing, while from morn 
 till night, on the frosty atmosphere, lumi- 
 nous pillars, and circles, and mock suns 
 witnessed to tlie intensity of the cold ; and 
 the nights, — 0, such nights ! why, you
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 213 
 
 could hear it freezing, freezing ; tlie swine 
 in their pens piled and crowded together, 
 quarreling for the warmest place, uttering 
 incessantly cries of distress, with which 
 mingled the sharp reports, like the dis- 
 charge of pistols, of the oaken shingles on 
 the roof, as the nails that secured them 
 burst. I don't know how we got through 
 that winter. Mrs. W. had courage, en- 
 ..durance, was free-hearted to a fault, but 
 the commonest articles had to be dispensed 
 with. The mills were so remote that the 
 corn stored in the attic could not be turned 
 into meal, greatly as it was needed, save 
 by the slow and imperfect process of grind- 
 ing in a coffee-mill, suspended against the 
 wall. Mr. W. was anxious and low-spir- 
 ited enough, poor fellow, frequently burst- 
 ing out into bitter reflections on himself 
 for bringing his wife to such a place.
 
 214 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 And, indeed, how she was kept alive was 
 a miracle ; certainly she ate nothing, or 
 next to nothing. Then, however, did wo- 
 man's marvelous self-forgetfulness and for- 
 titude shine out. Not a word of discon- 
 tent or of depression ever escaped her lips. 
 She was uniformly peaceful and hopeful, 
 at least in the presence of the household, 
 and her mild, sweet voice was often em- 
 ployed in singing some hymn of holy trust- 
 and cheer. I was ever admiring her spirit 
 and wondering at her conduct. Yet that 
 she was keenly alive to the situation of 
 affairs, and that she suffered the pangs of 
 unsatisfied hunger, — not having diet suited 
 to her needs, — we were obliged to think. 
 An incident impressed me deeply. 
 
 " Once, after retiring to rest, I awoke 
 while yet it was dark, and overheard, in 
 the apartment adjoining mine a low, sup-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 215 
 
 pressed whispering. It was Mrs. W. wres- 
 tling in prayer for strength according to 
 her day. She had taken that hour to seek 
 'Him who giveth power to the faint,' 
 that none but God might hear. Night 
 after night did she thus pour out her soul 
 in agonized supplication, yet on her face 
 not a shade of anxiety could be discerned 
 through the day. 
 
 " Often did Mr. Wallace, during the trials 
 of that winter, and afterwards, resolve to 
 return to Massachusetts. 
 
 " ' Not yet, Charles,' she would say, ' not 
 yet, till you have made enough to pay 
 you for coming.' 
 
 "And repressing her own earnest yearn- 
 ings for the faces of loved ones far away, 
 by her gentle firmness she held him lo 
 his enterprise, till after some years, a good 
 opportunity occurring to sell out at a fair
 
 216 OxN THE FROxNTIER. 
 
 advance, for his own sake as well as hers, 
 he embraced it, and joyfully they retraced 
 their course to the scenes they had left 
 behind. 
 
 " It may not be amiss to add, at the risk 
 of a digression, that Mr. W. was enabled, 
 while dwelling on the prairie, to carry out 
 his plans for being active in the service of 
 Christ. And so did he win the hearts of 
 others by his consistent, useful life, that 
 when he was about to leave the region, 
 an old pioneer, moved by powerful emo- 
 tions of grief at parting from him, sought 
 him out, and, throwing his brawny arms 
 about the good man's neck, wept aloud. 
 The ice of his reserve once broken, Mr. W. 
 has since taken his place among Christian 
 men at the East." 
 
 In the older settled portions of our coun- 
 try, the amenities of the heart, and the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 217 
 
 gentle fireside graces often bloom in beauty. 
 But on the frontier, the stronger, more val- 
 iant traits are developed. Indeed, if it 
 were not for woman, no new country could 
 be civilized. It would be the old story 
 of Adam and the beasts over again. Ev- 
 ery thing would end in Crusoe experi- 
 ments, in hunting and trapping, mining 
 and fishing. Woman, however, has more 
 than her share of work in reclaiming 
 earth's wastes. I have visited many hun- 
 dred cabin homes on the frontier, and my 
 conclusion is, that to the wife and mother, 
 more than to any other influence, belongs 
 the credit of whatever of advancement is 
 made socially. Encompassed with untold 
 difficulties, she not only does her own 
 work, but aids and encourages her hus- 
 band in his. She helps build the cabin, 
 "put up the fence," drive home the cows,
 
 218 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 take care of the crops, " fight the prairie 
 fires," "tend" the store, keep the tavern, 
 and take charge of the post-office. 
 
 There was Mrs. C, whom I first saw 
 when going with a friend for family sup- 
 plies. How I started back on entering 
 *'the store," supposing I had blundered 
 into a private room. A bed, neatly cov- 
 ered, stood in a corner, a cofifee-mill ready 
 for use hung against the wall. These first 
 met the eye. However, the sight of flour, 
 and other articles of merchandise, reas- 
 sured me. It was a two-roomed cabin, 
 with a low sleeping apartment overhead. 
 Yet in that little building a brisk trade 
 was carried on, a number of boarders 
 found accommodation, and the post-office 
 was kept; and Mrs. C, to allow her hus- 
 band leisure to put other " irons in the 
 fire," superintended the whole, respected
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 219 
 
 by all the settlers for her faultless judg- 
 ment, and kind, dignified bearing. 
 
 So also woman's influence is felt in reli- 
 gious matters. 
 
 On account of the severity of the win- 
 ter, our dwelling, being central, was for a 
 time our sanctuary. One Sabbath morn- 
 ing, the mercury being thirty below zero, 
 not a person came save two Christian la- 
 dies, who had walked nearly two miles to 
 attend meeting! I had not felt inclined 
 to chide our brethren for their absence, so 
 fierce was the morning, and the courageous 
 zeal of those devoted women filled me with 
 admiration. The incident was character- 
 istic. 
 
 And in the fearful national contest now 
 raging, the women of our free frontier will 
 not be found wanting. Their hearts took 
 fire when Kansas was invaded by border
 
 220 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 ruffians. Not a few Southern ladies, 
 brought up in luxury, have I met with 
 in cabin homes, self-exiled from the places 
 of their birth, by their abhorrence of Amer- 
 ican slavery. Prairie women, self-reliant, 
 free in spirit as the air they breathe, have 
 no affinity with tyrant traitors. And were 
 it possible that through the sorcery of 
 party politics, or some other fell influence, 
 the fathers and brothers of the Northwest 
 should falter in this struggle, the loyal 
 mothers and sisters could not. Inspired 
 by heroism, nursed by danger and depri- 
 vation, they would court any suffi3ring or 
 peril rather than see the fair structure of 
 our civilization and freedom overthrown by 
 the barbarized champions of human bond- 
 age.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 221 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CALL. 
 
 The winter of 18 — was marked with 
 unusual severity. I remember it the more 
 vividly because of the incident which fol- 
 lows. 
 
 One night I sat by the fire, absorbed in 
 reading. It was just the evening to enjoy 
 a good book and home comforts, for the 
 storm, which had been raging through the 
 day, and still whirling the snow against 
 the windows, repressed all desire to go 
 abroad, and shut out intruders. I read 
 on, till, through the roar of the tempest, 
 I heard the muffled tones of a neighbor- 
 ing church clock strike eleven. Another 
 hour had nearly passed when I was aroused
 
 222 ON THE FPtONTIER. 
 
 bj a knock at the door, and, opening it, a 
 woman, clad in a thin shawl covered with 
 snow, came timidly in. Her eyes were 
 swollen with weeping, and her whole ap- 
 pearance expressed deep sorrow. 
 
 Standing, and wringing her hands in her 
 anguish, she said, — 
 
 " My father is dying ! He is in great 
 distress of body and mind. I've called to 
 ask if you won't please come and see him, 
 for there's no one to speak a word to him 
 about his soul, and I fear he can't live till 
 morning." 
 
 " But," said I, " I am not a minister, 
 and am afraid I could be of little service. 
 Has your father no experienced Christian 
 friend who would like to converse with 
 him ? What church does he attend ? " 
 
 " We do not go any where to meeting," 
 she replied, with an embarrassed air ; " but
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 223 
 
 father had been talking about it some 
 time ! " 
 
 "Hadn't you better go for a clergyman, 
 then? There's Rev. Mr. E." 
 
 "I've been for him," she quickly re- 
 turned, . " but he was not at home, and 
 then I inquired for some one who could 
 pray, and a man sent me to you. Do 
 please go, sir, for father is very anxious 
 that I get some one, and I can't leave him 
 long, he suffers so, and he '11 feel dread- 
 fully if nobody comes to see him." 
 
 There was a coincidence in this unex- 
 pected call that impressed me. I had been 
 much exercised with the desire to be more 
 actively useful as a Christian, and had felt 
 moved to pray that larger opportunities 
 for doing good might be given. Was this 
 an answer to that prayer ? But it did not 
 come in the way I had anticipated, and
 
 224 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 numbei'less excuses were ready to present 
 themselves, the most weighty of which 
 was my extreme youth, and consequent 
 inexperience ; and (shall I confess it ?) I 
 even glanced, with selfish shrinking, out 
 at the driving blast. But the case would 
 admit of no parleying. With pale, implor- 
 ing face, my caller stood waiting my decis- 
 ion. Strength came, and I said, — 
 
 "I will go, and do the best I can for 
 your father;" and, thanking me, she hur- 
 ried away. 
 
 In a distant and disreputable part of the 
 city, alone, on a dreary declivity overlook- 
 ing the sea, stood the dwelling of the sick 
 man. Entering, I had stepped to the feeble 
 fire that flickered in the grate, to warm me 
 ere speaking to him, when, casting my eyes 
 toward the bed, they met his. Such an 
 expression of wild despair I had never be-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 225 
 
 fore seen. In the thrilling tones of one 
 consciously approaching eternity unpre- 
 pared, he exclaimed, stretching out his 
 hand, — 
 
 " / luant some one to point me the 
 way I " 
 
 Instantly all diffidence fled ; and, grasp- 
 ing his hand, I began to question him 
 about his past life and present feelings. 
 Suspicious of "death-bed repentance," I 
 dealt plainly with him, which was well 
 received. The result was a conviction that 
 his was a case of genuine sorrow for sin. 
 He had been a man of great physical 
 strength and endurance. His business had 
 called him to stand much in the water, as 
 he worked about the vessels in the harbor, 
 experiencing no ill effects from his exposed 
 life till within a short time, when his lower 
 limbs commenced swelling, accompanied by 
 15
 
 226 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 excruciating pain, the torture increasing as 
 the disease crept up toward the vitals. 
 Xow his siififerings were well nigh intoler- 
 able, and his swollen appearance made him 
 a truly frightful object. His naturally fine 
 mind remained unclouded, however, and 
 its whole vigor was exercised in self-accus- 
 ing reviews of the past, and hopeless autici- 
 pations of the future. 
 
 ^'Oh," said he, "it's not the fear of 
 death that troubles me so much as thoughts 
 of my wasted, godless life. I have lived 
 as if there was no God. What a stupid, 
 ungrateful wretch I have been ! And he 
 has been so good, so forbearing, so patient. 
 For fifty years and more I never saw a 
 sick day, and yet no love toward him who 
 made and preserved me ! Oh, how can 
 I think of it I " — and he covered his face 
 as if to hide some hideous vision.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 227 
 
 " Bat," I asked, " did you have no con- 
 cern about these things till you were 
 taken sick ? " 
 
 " Yes ; one day, a few weeks before, I 
 fell to thinking over my past life, — I know 
 not what made me, — and I saw it to be 
 all wrong. Then I resolved to do better. 
 But what a task I found it to overcome 
 evil habits formed through so many years ; 
 and then my sins, my sins, they were a 
 load crushing me to despair. One thing, 
 however, I determined on, and that was to 
 attend preaching somewhere. But, delay- 
 ing to get suitable clothing, I was mean- 
 while laid up with this sickness. And 
 now," he continued, " what I wish more 
 than any thing else is to be rid of sin and 
 serve God. But how can this be? How 
 can I hope he will have mercy on me, 
 when all the strength of my days has
 
 228 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 been given to self and sin ? What shall 
 I do? what shall I do? It's all dark 
 to me." 
 
 Assuring him that salvation was free 
 and ample, that the blessed Saviour in- 
 vited all who felt their need of it to par- 
 take without money and without price, he 
 could not credit the good news, and ex- 
 claimed, with mo\dng earnestness, — 
 
 " Read it to me from ihe Book. I want 
 to hear it for myself, that I may know 
 there is no mistake about it ! " 
 
 Drawing a Bible from my pocket, and 
 lifting up a prayer for guidance, for I 
 knew not where to turn, I opened at this 
 passage : " Jesus stood and cried, saying, 
 If any man thirst, let him come unto me 
 and drink." A divine radiance seemed to 
 rest on the Lord's invitation, and as I was 
 explaining it, he suddenly exclaimed, —
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 229 
 
 " / see it / " He had fallen back on 
 the pillow, a smile surpassingly beautiful 
 irradiating his before distorted features. 
 Those wondrous words of Christ, in which 
 divine majesty blends with perfect human 
 sympathy, through the Spirit's power, had 
 inspired trust. The cloud, the darkness, 
 the storm passed from his soul, and, like 
 a tired infant nestling in his mother's 
 arms, so he found rest in the love of his 
 Saviour. 
 
 How blessed to kneel in prayer after 
 such a change ! Prayer was turned to 
 praise, and that lowly cot became as the 
 gate of heaven. Nor did his peace abate, 
 for when I called again, three days after- 
 wards, and inquired how he felt, — 
 
 " Oh ! " said he, with beaming face, " it's 
 so delightful; it is peace in the morning-, 
 and peace at night. My mind is so at
 
 230 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 rest," he continued, " that even my bodily 
 pains, at times, seem all to have left me." 
 • But how can I express the gladness 
 that filled my heart that night, as I left 
 the aged convert to return home ! The 
 howling tempest could not drown the mel- 
 ody that came down from angel-harps, to 
 the ear of faith, as in the presence of God 
 there was joy over another repentant sin- 
 ner. Christian disciple, pray to be a true 
 laborer for Christ. Watch to improve each 
 opportunity the Lord shall give for §,ctiv- 
 ity in his vineyard. Charlotte Elizabeth 
 writes, " I asked work of my heavenly Mas- 
 ter, and he gave it." Xone shall ask it 
 of him in vain. Fear not to follow liis 
 leadings. The impenitent are more ready 
 to hear on the subject of their eternal in- 
 terests than is generally supposed. " I 
 have," says Newcomb, " conversed with
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 231 
 
 many hundreds, in almost every variety of 
 states of mind, not excepting avowed infi- 
 dels, but have rarely met with one who 
 did not receive it kindly, and treat me 
 with courtesy.'* Since the incident related 
 above, which occurred in my eighteenth 
 year, personal religious conversation with 
 some thousands enables me to bear a simi- 
 lar testimony.
 
 232 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 THE WORLD-WANDERER. 
 
 I WAS visiting in tlie quiet city of N . 
 
 On the street a clerical friend met me, and 
 said, — 
 
 " I want you to come to our conference 
 meeting this evening, and hear one of my 
 members talk. It will do you good." 
 
 Now I confess to a partiality for those 
 social services, in which young and old, 
 the lettered and unlettered, all turn preach- 
 ers, and in the freedom of God's fam- 
 ily circle make heart-offerings of prayer, 
 and praise, and exhortation. Would that 
 we had less pulpit and more church 
 in our sanctuaries ; at least, I should pre- 
 fer it.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 233 
 
 The good pastor's flock were accustomed 
 to prayer-meeting privileges, and no time 
 was lost. 
 
 " That's the man," whispered my friend ; 
 "listen." 
 
 At that instant a man arose in a side 
 pew, and commenced speaking. Partly 
 bald, his thin, light hair fell from a high 
 forehead, while his sharply cut features, 
 bronzed by exposure to sun and storm, 
 wore a bold, stern look, as of one accus- 
 tomed to face danger without shrinking. 
 His voice was resonant and full, his manner 
 assured and forcible. A tender smile, like 
 sunlight resting on the jagged rock, played 
 over his face, — a face accustomed more to 
 harsher moods, one would think. 
 
 His words — I will not attempt to re- 
 hearse them — were wondrously weighty 
 and convincing, as, with a confidence such
 
 234 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 as the Apostles had after the baptism of 
 Pentecost, he reasoned out of the Scrip- 
 tures of " righteousness, temperance, and 
 judgment to come." He spoke like one 
 who had consciously emerged from dark- 
 ness to light; who had been soundly con- 
 verted from the extremity of ungodliness 
 to a living discipleship. And when he 
 alluded to his own experience, how touch- 
 ing and persuasive ! 
 
 " Sinner ! " he exclaimed ; " you who 
 make light of these things, pleased with 
 the triJfles of earth, hugging sin, your dead- 
 liest foe, to your hearts, rejecting the only 
 good, eagerly pressing on the broad road 
 to destruction, look at me, a monument of 
 God's sparing mercy, a trophy of his grace ! 
 Some of you have known me from my 
 childhood. You can remember what a 
 vile, God-defying, blasphemous wretch I
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 235 
 
 was. You have heard me insult the Maj- 
 esty of heaven and earth; yes, pour out 
 my swearing wrath on Him who died for 
 me. It is but a year since he spoke to 
 me as to Saul of Tarsus, and brought me 
 to his feet. Since then my testimony has 
 been one and the same. I am a new crea- 
 ture ; old things have passed away. I have 
 found him of whom Moses and the proph- 
 ets did write ; and in finding him I have 
 found every thing. Sin's strong fetters 
 have been broken ; pardon, peace, joy, 
 love, the fellowship of the saints, the com- 
 munion of the Holy Ghost, heaven, all are 
 mine, and can you stay away ? " Then, 
 plaintively, almost soliloquizing, " Fifty 
 years of my life were wasted in sin, be- 
 fore I saw the great light. I have been 
 all over the world, seen hardships and 
 danger in many a clime, all the while defy
 
 236 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 ing the God who made and preserved me. 
 Yes, I have been to Palestine, trodden that 
 sacred soil with a heart harder than ada- 
 mant, gone over those places hallowed by 
 tlie weary feet, watered by the tears 
 and blood of Immanuel, — but what was 
 it all to me ? Oh, that I could once more 
 see that land, all-glorious ! Oh, that I might 
 again look on Jordan and Tiberias, Geth- 
 semane and Calvary, now that he has had 
 pity on a wretch like me, and revealed 
 himself to my soul. How dear, how holy, 
 would be those scenes! — what joy, what 
 rapture would thrill my heart ! But this 
 can not be. But, blessed be God, the heav- 
 enly Canaan 
 
 ' Stands dressed in living green.' 
 
 I shall see that. I shall behold Him whom 
 I once reviled, but who is now to my soul
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 237 
 
 the cliiefest among ten thousand, and the 
 One altogether lovely. Sinner, will you go 
 with me ? Come, for there is room for 
 all ! " 
 
 " What," said the preacher, as we walked 
 home together, " did you think of that ? " 
 referring to the exhortation I have mea- 
 gerly sketched. 
 
 "Ah ! " I replied, with a sigh, " if we all 
 could speak with that assurance of faith 
 and depth of conviction." 
 
 "And yet," he continued, "that man 
 was one of the worst, most hopeless scoff- 
 ers I ever heard of. The language he 
 would use in expressing his scorn and 
 hatred of the Saviour is too horrible to re- 
 peat. But since his conversion not an op- 
 poser dares breathe an accusation against 
 his demeanor. Having been forgiven much, 
 he loves much."
 
 238 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 " What were the circumstances connected 
 with his conversion?" 
 
 "A member of my church and Sabbath 
 school," said he, " was in search of schol- 
 ars. She was looking for them among the 
 poor and neglected. She had heard of this 
 man — was aware that he was a skeptic 
 of the blackest hue ; but knowing that he 
 had children growing up untaught in di- 
 vine things, her heart was moved with pity ; 
 and, repressing her timidity, she begged 
 leave for them to attend Sunday school. 
 Her conciliatory, persevering efforts, were 
 rewarded by her request being granted. 
 The youngest of them, a little girl of five, 
 became religiously impressed, and began 
 the habit of secret prayer. One evening, 
 just at dark, her father chancing to pass 
 the door of her room, thought he heard a 
 voice. It was little Mary offering her
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 239 
 
 childish petitions. Just then she was ask- 
 ing God to bless and save her dear father. 
 The listening parent heard his name thus 
 laid before the mercy-seat. Conviction fol- 
 lowed. ' What does this mean ? ' he ejacu- 
 lated. ' My little girl praying for me ! 
 Am I, then, such a sinner ? ' His life 
 came up for review ; he was plunged 
 in wretchedness, could not sleep, and 
 next morning sent for me. He was walk- 
 ing the room, gloomy and agitated, as I 
 entered. 
 
 " ' Sir,' said he, ' can you prove that the 
 Bible is true ? ' 
 
 " * Yes, to one who is candid,' I an- 
 swered. 
 
 " ' Then let me hear your arguments,' he 
 rejoined. 
 
 "I spent the day with him. Ere I left, 
 at his request I prayed for him, and he
 
 240 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 broke out in earnest supplication for him- 
 self. When light dawned, his mind was 
 flooded. No doubts have distressed him 
 since. His testimonies always have power 
 with unbelievers ; they don't question the 
 change. But did you observe," he added, 
 " how he yearned to see the Holy Land 
 once more ? He often reverts to that, re- 
 proaching himself for his indifference and 
 unbelief when there." 
 
 The converted infidel died about a year 
 after. His last moments were glorious. 
 Denied another sight of the earthly Canaan, 
 the heavenly soon burst upon his enrap- 
 tured vision. 
 
 Oh, ye laborers in the Sabbath schools of 
 our land, go forth I Go forth into the 
 highways and hedges, into the homes of 
 error, the dens of corruption, and bear 
 thence the tender child where hallowed in-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 241 
 
 fluences descend, and the knowledge that 
 inaketh wise unto salvation is imparted. 
 Save the children, and it may be you will 
 save the fathers and the mothers, who, 
 transformed, shall become champions of 
 the cross. 
 
 16
 
 242 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 THE PASTOR'S DREAM. 
 
 Deacon G. was a pillar in the 
 
 church some years since. He was the very 
 embodiment of good deaconly qualities : 
 — bland, zealous, prayerful, efficient. His 
 hospitable doors were ever open to the 
 "pilgrim and stranger," and many a weary 
 man of God, and many a hungry wan- 
 derer, was sheltered and fed beneath his 
 roof. And not seldom did some struggling 
 theological student, visiting him of a vaca- 
 tion, have his fundless wallet replenished, 
 and his outer man improved by the ex- 
 change of his worn boots and threadbare 
 coat for a more comely and comfortable 
 garb. It was whispered around, however,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 243 
 
 that with all his virtues, he had one weak- 
 ness. He was pronounced prodigal in his 
 alms-deeds, by some of the more "pru- 
 dent," and the pastor inclined to the opin- 
 ion. He admired the whole-hearted benev- 
 olence of the deacon, but being himself 
 more wary, and having his friend's interests 
 really at heart, he became much troubled 
 about the matter. For some time he re- 
 volved the subject in silence, until com- 
 pelled, as he thought, by a sense of duty, 
 he waited on his official helper to express 
 his concern. He laid before him all his 
 fears, endeavoring, with a discriminating 
 hand, to draw the line between a safe and 
 an imprudent generosity. 
 
 " Have I not enough for the support of 
 my family? Do I at all distress them by 
 giving away ? " asked the deacon. " This 
 may be true," said the minister, " but
 
 244 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 many of your brethren fear for the future 
 for you. You know not what reverses may 
 await you. Is it not wise ; do you not owe 
 it to your family so to husband your resour- 
 ces as to be prepared for emergencies that 
 may arise ? " 
 
 His listener duly weighed each word, 
 but was scarcely convinced of the neces- 
 sity of the caution. It seemed to him that 
 ne had only given of his abundance, and 
 that a watchful Providence had granted 
 him to reap liberally as he sowed liber- 
 ally. 
 
 The pastor left ; his solicitude somewhat 
 softened, perhaps, by the interview; yet 
 with the consciousness that he had relieved 
 himself of any responsibility in whatever 
 might befall the deacon's worldly affairs, 
 while the latter remained with his large 
 heart uncontracted.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 245 
 
 That night the pastor dreamed that, tak- 
 ing his daily walk, he bent his steps to the 
 sea-side. It was a bright day in summer, 
 and he paused to look on the broad ex- 
 panse. Soft clouds lay dreamily against 
 the horizon. Sea-birds sailed slowly 
 through the air, or darted down upon 
 their finny prey. The white-crested waves 
 flashed back golden rays. While absorbed 
 in the glorious scene, a step behind caused 
 him to turn his head, and he saw Deacon G. 
 approaching. The latter appeared not to 
 notice him, but stepping to the verge of 
 the shore, took from a basket on his arm 
 loaf after loaf of wholesome looking bread, 
 and tossed them into the water. 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " exclaimed the pastor, in 
 surprise, " why this waste ? " 
 
 The deacon pointed solemnly into the 
 sea, and said, " Look ! observe ! "
 
 246 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 The former looked, and, to his astonish- 
 ment, saw that for each loaf thrown in, 
 the returning wave brought back a basket- 
 ful, and cast them, at the donor's feet! 
 
 In great wonder he awoke, and the next 
 day calling on the deacon, related his 
 dream, and added, tearfully, — 
 
 " Go on, brother ! go on ! Cast your 
 bread upon the waters — doubtless, after 
 many days, it will be returned to you!"
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 247 
 
 A SMILE, A GLANCE, A HYMN. 
 
 A THOUGHTLESS boj of fifteen, who had 
 heard the Bible and the Christian profes- 
 sion treated lightly, imbibed the poison of 
 skepticism. He had come to think that 
 religion was only a name, and that the 
 followers of Christ were a gloomy people, 
 denying themselves this world's enjoyments 
 and receiving no equivalent. It chanced 
 one day that he was sent on an errand to 
 a lady, of whom his parents would often 
 speak compassionately, as one who had 
 but a little while to live. 
 
 " Poor Mrs. S.," they were wont to ex- 
 claim, " how dreadful must it be to lier to 
 know that she must leave her beautiful
 
 248 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 home, her babe and husband. But," they 
 would add, ''she is a church-member, — 
 wonder of she is sustained in her great 
 trouble." 
 
 The son called on Mrs. S. With pleased 
 emotions, for he was a lad of fine taste, 
 he looked at the dwelling and out-grounds. 
 Wealth had here lavished its stores in 
 adorning and furnishing a home where, it 
 would seem, scarcely a wish was ungrati- 
 fied. The garden was a paradise of rare 
 plants and flowers. Within, the foot 
 pressed the richest carpets, luxurious chairs 
 and lounges invited repose, while the ele- 
 gant library contained the choicest produc- 
 tions in literature. A fair babe, the pic- 
 ture of health, lay sleeping in its pretty 
 cot. He glanced at the costly house and 
 dimpled child, and then at the sick wo- 
 man, and thought how terrible a thing it
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 249 
 
 is to die amid such scenes. He expected 
 that the countenance of the death-doomed 
 wife and mother would reflect his feelings. 
 But no. That saintly expression, such as 
 beautifies those only who have been purified 
 by suffering, and " look not at the things 
 that are seen and temporal, but at the things 
 that are unseen and eternal," lighted up 
 her face. An ever-present smile, sweet and 
 heavenly beyond any thing he had ever 
 seen, spoke of her deep, spiritual joy. It 
 overwhelmed him with surprise. " This, 
 this," said an inward voice, " is what Chris- 
 tianity does for Death's victims ! " There 
 is, there must be, he felt, reality in that 
 which can give happiness under circum 
 stances so forbidding. That smile followed 
 him, an unanswerable witness for Jesus, 
 till he was led to seek the dying Chris- 
 tian's Saviour. "A'smile — a simple smile 
 convinced me," he would afterwards say.
 
 250 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 In a rural town in Maine lived a Mr. 
 B., an openly irreligious man. His cus- 
 tom was, when his neighbors were at 
 public worship on the Lord's day, to take 
 his fishing-rod or gun, and stroll about the 
 fields and woods in search of amusement. 
 One hot summer day, starting on his accus- 
 tomed ramble, his course led him by the 
 village church. The pastor, a devoted, 
 godly minister, now in glory, had just 
 risen to name his text. The Sabbath- 
 breaker passed on ere it was announced. 
 But the door of the sanctuary being open 
 on account of the heat, his glance within 
 met that of the man of God. Those calm, 
 unworldly eyes, with their " holy expres- 
 sion," as the transgressor subsequently 
 stated, shot conviction to his heart, and 
 he found no peace till he found it beneath 
 the sin-atoning cross.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 251 
 
 A faithful pastor,* who made much of 
 "the lambs," was in the habit of taking 
 a little girl, the daughter of a parishioner, 
 on his knee when he called, and teaching 
 her a hymn to sing. He taught her those 
 lines from Watts, commencing, 
 
 '•Earth has engrossed my love too long." 
 
 She had a clear, rich voice, and when 
 the family would sing those words her bird- 
 like notes might be heard above all the 
 rest. One day she came in from play, hot 
 and fevered — scarlet fever had seized her, 
 and she soon faded from earth, to be folded 
 in the arms of the " chief Shepherd." 
 Many years passed. With her death the 
 stanzas ceased to be sung and were sel- 
 dom thought of. An older brother, who 
 had grown to manhood, read infidel books, 
 
 * Rev. J. Newton Brown.
 
 262 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 forsook the house of God, and became a 
 caviller at religion. His business called 
 him to a distant town, and having a taste 
 for music, he became a member of a choir, 
 still unchanged in his feelings towards 
 Christianity. One Sabbath the officiating 
 clergyman gave out the hymn already re- 
 ferred to. While engaged in singing it, 
 suddenly he seemed to hear that child- 
 voice ringing out, in cadences of angelic 
 sweetness, her favorite lines, — 
 
 " Earth has engrossed my love too long ; 
 'Tis time I lift mine eyes 
 Upward, dear Father, to thy throne, 
 And to my native skies." 
 
 Each word uttered with thrilling dis- 
 tinctness to his ear, he was lifted above 
 his skepticism, heaven became a reality, 
 the gospel a divine power. Overcome by 
 emotion, he sat down before the song had
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 253 
 
 ended, — melted, subdued, humbled, tearful. 
 After his conversion he would often allude 
 to that hour as one of deep and vivid im- 
 pression. Little did that loving pastor 
 think what he was doing for that brother 
 when the fair-haired girl sat in his lap com- 
 mitting those verses.
 
 254 ON THE FRONTIEB. 
 
 A LOST OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 I HAD been invited to preach for a few 
 Sabbaths in a pleasant village on the sea- 
 board. During services, on my first Sun- 
 day's labors, my attention was attracted to 
 a tall, rough-looking man, of pale counte- 
 nance, on my right. Each time I glanced 
 in his direction I saw that his eyes were 
 fixed upon me, as if he were intent to 
 hear, and yet with an expression that be- 
 tokened any thing but sympathy with the 
 truths of the gospel. There was nothing 
 in his personal appearance that would lead 
 one to single him from the throng of stran- 
 gers in the sanctuary, yet anxiety for his 
 spiritual good arose in my heart, and dur-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 255 
 
 ing the succeeding week I experienced a 
 solicitude in his behalf that could only ex- 
 press itself in prayer. Next Sabbath, on 
 my return, the stranger occupied the same 
 seat, and while preaching I often felt for 
 him an interest so peculiar that I resolved 
 to seek an interview for religious conversa- 
 tion. Lingerhig to speak with Christian 
 friends, he had retired from the congrega- 
 tion before I had put my resolution in 
 practice. 
 
 " Who is the tall man that sat in the 
 third slip on my right ?^' I asked of a 
 lady resident of the place. 
 
 "Oh," she replied, "that's Mr. L., a 
 poor, wretched infidel, who don't believe 
 in the Bible, nor even that there is a God. 
 A fearfully violent and blasphemous oppo- 
 ser of religion, I can't imagine how he 
 happened to come to church to-day; he
 
 256 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 lias not been within a Ciiristiau sanctuary 
 for years." 
 
 "It is singular, but without any knowl- 
 edge of his condition, I have felt an ear- 
 nest desire to speak to him on the subject 
 of his soul's salvation. How do you think 
 he would receive it ? " 
 
 " He would swear at you terribly, I fear. 
 Why, that man will stand up, and dare 
 God to strike him dead ! " 
 
 "Is it possible?" 
 
 " Yes, and what makes his case worse 
 is, he has a bad cough that may end in 
 consumption. When a coughing-fit comes 
 on it puts him in a rage, that vents itself 
 in the most shocking oaths." 
 
 What I heard respecting the man of it- 
 self would not have disheartened me. But 
 there was such a thing, I remembered, as 
 casting " pearls before swine," and impres-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 257 
 
 sions were so trustless. Therefore, I de- 
 ferred calling upon him, as I had designed, 
 that week ; however, I was unhappy from 
 a conviction of neglected duty that no rea- 
 soning could remove. Wherever I went, 
 however occupied, his pale face would haunt 
 me, and mentioning the case to a Christian 
 acquaintance, united prayer was frequently 
 offered for his conversion. I had deter- 
 mined to speak with him the next Sabbath 
 without fail. But he was not in his place. 
 My engagements were such that I could not 
 conveniently visit him at his home. Another 
 week rolled by, and he was still missing. 
 
 " Where is Mr. L. ? " I inquired, of the 
 friend before alluded to ; "I must see him. 
 I believe the Holy Spirit is impressing his 
 case upon my soul, and I shall not find 
 peace till I have one faithful talk with 
 him, whether he repulses me or not." 
 17
 
 258 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 "Ah, sir," was the reply, "you are too 
 late!" 
 
 "Too late! What do you mean?" I 
 asked, tremblingly. 
 
 " He is dead ! " 
 
 " Dead ? " 
 
 " Yes, his end was dreadful. A week 
 ago last Thursday night he was sitting, 
 conversing with his wife, when, she says, 
 something internal seemed to break, sound- 
 ing like the running down of a clock. In- 
 stantly he sprang to his feet, exclaiming, 
 ' My time has come ! ' then sinking on his 
 knees, he cried to God for mercy. His 
 shrieks were heard by neighbors living far 
 away. In a few moments all was over, — 
 he had breathed his last!" 
 
 The intelligence smote heavily on my 
 heart, filling me with an agony almost too 
 keen to be borne.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 259 
 
 "Oh," I cried, "would that I had 
 yielded to the Spirit, and not lingered to 
 question and doubt. Oh, that I had spo- 
 ken one word to him concerning his need 
 of Christ ! " I then related, with shame 
 and confusion of face, all my exercises in 
 relation to the deceased. 
 
 " Strange," said my friend ; " but that 
 man talked much about you the last week 
 or two, and always in your favor. He 
 uttered not a word against your preach- 
 ing. I know not but he would have wel- 
 comed any thing you might have said to 
 him." 
 
 He had heard something of the gospel 
 tliose two Sabbaths ; he had not scorned 
 what he heard ; united intercession had 
 been made for him; he had cried for 
 mercy at last; there was a gleam of com- 
 fort in these reflections, but oh, what
 
 260 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 would I not have given to have had some 
 testimony from his own lips that he had 
 renounced atheism, and cast himself on the 
 grace of the compassionate Saviour ! 
 
 Christian reader, our fathers and moth- 
 ers in Israel believed in the office-work of 
 the Holy Spirit; believed that he moved 
 on the hearts in which he dwelt to special 
 labor for perishing souls. Have we not 
 wandered away from their simple, scriptu- 
 ral faith, and thus grieved the Holy Com- 
 forter, and become unfruitful in the work 
 of the Lord, till it is to be feared that the 
 blood of souls may be found on our gar- 
 ments ? Oh, if you would never know the 
 bitter sorrow that to this day overwhelms 
 me, as Memory recalls that poor skeptic, 
 yield to the heavenly guidance, and fear 
 not to speak when the Spirit prompts. 
 
 s«
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 261 
 
 "NOT IN VAIN.'* 
 
 " My first sermon," said a pastor, " what 
 a vivid recollection I have of it ! " A min- 
 isterial acquaintance who was to spend the 
 Sabbath from home, on exchange, had in- 
 vited me to ride with him to his appoint- 
 ment. On arriving, he said, — 
 
 "I shall depend on you to preach half 
 the day." 
 
 The afternoon was left for me to im- 
 prove. There was a heavy rain, and few 
 ventured out, for which I felt more and 
 more thankful as the services advanced. 
 My discourse, partly written and partly 
 extempore, sounded to my own ears like 
 the "foolishness of preaching" indeed; and
 
 262 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 with an inward resolution never again to 
 commit the folly of speaking from the 
 sacred desk, I went home mortified, hum- 
 bled, and desponding. 
 
 Some years afterwards, while settled over 
 a church in Connecticut, an acute bilious 
 attack laid me by for a few weeks from 
 the labors of the pastorate. One day, while 
 lying dejected on the sick-bed, a stranger 
 visited me. He was also a pastor, resid- 
 ing some twelve miles away. After some 
 pleasant, preliminary words, he said, — 
 
 " I have come on an errand to you. It 
 is a message intrusted to me by a dying 
 woman. Do you remember spending a 
 Sabbath in H some years ago, in com- 
 pany with Rev. Mr. F. ? " 
 
 " I do," said I, while a quick flush 
 passed over my face. 
 
 "Do you recollect what a great rain
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 263 
 
 there was, and how thin the attend- 
 ance ? " 
 
 "I could not forget it if I would.'' 
 " Well," said he, " I was pastor of that 
 church then ; we did not meet, however. 
 Two years after you were there, I was 
 sent for to converse with a lady about to 
 die. She was ready for the messenger. 
 'But,' said she, 'I have a special request 
 to make of you ; ' then, referring to your 
 sermon, at that time, as being wonderfully 
 blest to her, she added, ' I fear he went 
 away discouraged, supposing he had done 
 no good; and I want you to tell him 
 how God sent home that discourse to my 
 soul, that he may know that his labor was 
 not in vain in the Lord.' And," contin- 
 ued my thoughtful caller, "hearing you 
 were sick, and fearing you might feel low- 
 spirited in being unable to discharge your
 
 264 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 accustomed duties, I felt it my duty to 
 ride over and deliver my message now, 
 hoping it would cheer you in your afflic- 
 tions." 
 
 ''' My word shall not return unto me 
 void," says Jehovah. Toil on with cour- 
 age, all you who cultivate the harvest-field 
 of the gospel here. In a world of clearer 
 light you shall reap in joy !
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 265 
 
 THE PRAYING BANKRUPT. 
 
 Some twenty-five years since, in a sea- 
 port town in New England, there resided 
 a deacon, who was engaged in lucrative 
 business. Although of prudent habits, his 
 benevolence led him to indorse largely for 
 one who had won his confidence as a Chris- 
 tian brother, but afterwards proved to be 
 a designing knave. This issued in the good 
 deacon's failure, when, with scrupulous in- 
 tegrity, every thing that could be claimed 
 by his creditors was given up. A winter 
 of great severity and of general business 
 depression followed. His wife and young 
 children looked to him for a subsistence 
 which he knew not how to furnish, as his
 
 266 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 most diligent efforts for employment were 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 A debt incurred, with no prospect of pay- 
 ment, was, in his estimation, sin ; and he 
 sadly saw their little stock of provisions 
 rapidly diminishing, with no way to obtain 
 more. He was a man of prayer as well 
 as action, and carried the case to Him who 
 feedeth the ravens. Yet long, weary weeks 
 passed and no succor came. At length the 
 morning dawned when the last stick of 
 wood was on the fire, and little Hatty told 
 her father that tlie candles were all gone ; 
 " and how," asked she, '' shall we take 
 care of dear mamma to-night?" 
 
 The question went to the father's heart 
 with dagger-like poignancy. The vision of 
 his suffering wife, gasping her life away in 
 the last fearful stages of consumption, her 
 comfortless sick-room unwarmed, unlighted,
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 267 
 
 and the thick darkness which he knew 
 would enshroud her mind, when made 
 aware of the extent of their destitution, 
 would have driven him to distraction, were 
 it not that he yet had hope in One mighty 
 to save. He fled to his closet, and there, 
 in an agony of prayer, besought the Lord 
 for help; and, forgetting all other wants, 
 plead and plead again for the two articles 
 now specially needed, specifying them with 
 reiterated earnestness. He arose from his 
 knees in full assurance of faith and with 
 heavenly tranquillity, and went forth, ex- 
 pecting deliverance, looking for it, how- 
 ever, in but one way, — through his own 
 earnings. But after a fruitless day of 
 seeking employment, gloomily he returned 
 home. 
 
 He entered his gate, and was startled to 
 see before him a generous pile of wood.
 
 268 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 Little Johnny opened the door, clapping 
 his hands, exclaiming, — 
 
 " Oh, pa ! we've got some wood and 
 some candles ! " 
 
 "But where did you get them ? Are 
 you sure they were not left here by mis- 
 take ? '' 
 
 "Oh, no, pa!" interrupted Hatty, "they 
 were not left by mistake. A man knocked 
 at the door with his whip, and when I 
 opened it, he asked if you lived here. I 
 told him you did. Then he said, *.Here 
 are some candles and a load of wood for 
 him.'" 
 
 " I asked him if you sent them, and he 
 said, ' I rather guess your pa don't know 
 any thing about it.'" 
 
 " Who did send them, then ? " said I. 
 
 " ' Oh,' said he, ' I musn't tell, but you 
 may say to your father that they are a 
 present/ "
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 269 
 
 But to what instrumentality they were 
 indebted for the relief was a mystery. And 
 what particularly interested Deacon P. was, 
 the character of the anonymous presents ; 
 that the very things so much needed, and 
 no others, should be sent, and he was sure 
 he had mentioned his want of them to no 
 human ear. 
 
 He questioned the children anew. They 
 described the man who knocked at the 
 door, the horse and truck he drove. A 
 new thought struck him. '' Why," said 
 he, " that team belongs to my old enemy, 
 Graflf. Can it be possible he is the donor ? 
 If so, surely the finger of God has touched 
 his heart." Deacon P. was, however, so 
 convinced that he was their benefactor, 
 that he resolved on an immediate call on 
 that gentleman. 
 
 But who was Mr. Graff?
 
 270 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 Some years before, the sacredness of the 
 Sabbath was openly violated by a brisk 
 trade in fish. The hundreds of boatmen, 
 sailors, and their friends, engaged in this 
 desecration, were so potent in influence, 
 that nobody thought of risking interference. 
 Deacon P., though a man of peace, was 
 also a man of moral courage. He deter- 
 mined to put a stop to the iniquity. His 
 friends warned him that his life would be 
 endangered ; but, at first alone, and after- 
 ward with a brother deacon, he would take 
 a walk along the wharves of a Sunday morn- 
 ing to ascertain who broke the laws by 
 traffic on that day. Men swore at him 
 like fiends, fired his dwelling at several 
 different times, and at last " bound them- 
 selves with an oath" to kill him. Yet 
 they feared his presence, and at his ap- 
 proach stores would be deserted of cus-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 271 
 
 tomers, and closed with great celerity. 
 This species of Sabbath-breaking was at 
 length broken up, after various hairbreadth 
 escapes on the part of Deacon P. and his 
 compatriot, the authorities being shamed 
 into action by their fearless zeal. 
 
 The brutal drunkenness of the sailors, 
 and the degradation and suffering of their 
 families, with which Deacon P. was in this 
 enterprise brought into contact, opened his 
 eyes to the evils of the liquor traffic ; and 
 turning over hjk Sabbath reform to the 
 legal authorities, he became known as a 
 temperance advocate. This also brought 
 him enemies, sometimes changing even 
 friends into foes. Distiller Graff was 
 among the latter, from a warm friend be- 
 coming bitterly alienated. In vain did the 
 grieved deacon strive to conciliate by ex- 
 planation and personal kindness. Even the
 
 272 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 trifling civility of a bow was rudely unno- 
 ticed by Mr. Graff. 
 
 Deacon P. entered the distillery of his 
 old friend. For the first time for years 
 its proprietor looked up with a nod and 
 smile of recognition. It was evident some- 
 thing unusual had softened his heart. 
 
 " I have called," said the deacon, " to 
 ask if you can tell me who sent some 
 wood and candles to my house to-day?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I sent them." 
 
 " You are very kind ; but pray tell me 
 how you came to do so ? " 
 
 " But first, let me inquire if you really 
 needed them ? " 
 
 " Oh, I can not express to you how 
 much ! " 
 
 "Well, then, I suppose I must explain," 
 said Mr. Graff. " It's all very singular, 
 and sometimes seems very foolish. This
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 273 
 
 morning, about ten o'clock, as I was busy 
 at my work, suddenly a voice seemed to 
 say to me, ' Send some wood to Deacon 
 P., he is in want I ' I was astonished. 
 I could not believe you needed it. And 
 I could not send it to you of all others. 
 I tried to banish the thought, and went 
 to work again more earnestly. But ihQ 
 voice — it seemed within me — said again, 
 with painful distinctness, ' Send some wood 
 to Deacon P., he is in want!^ I scouted 
 the idea as weak and silly; a mere phan- 
 tasy of the brain; but it was of no use; 
 I had to succumb. The more I ridiculed 
 and fought it, the more vivid and irresisti- 
 ble was the impression, until, to purchase 
 peace, and in some awe, I confess, I bade 
 John load his team with wood and leave 
 it at your door. 
 
 " For a moment I was at rest ; but only 
 18
 
 274 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 for a moment. The imperative whisper 
 came, * Send some candles I ' Said I to 
 myself, this is too absurd ; I will not grat- 
 ify this whim ; but again I was so beset 
 with the mandate, and so distressed and 
 baffled in repelling it, that, as a cheap 
 way to get out of torment, I handed John 
 a package of candles also. 
 
 " This matter has been in my mind ever 
 since. Sometimes I have thought it almost 
 a freak of insanity, and then again, such 
 was the strange character of the impres- 
 sion, so unexpected, so solemn and power- 
 ful, and such the singular peace following 
 compliance with its dictates, that I almost 
 believe it to be supernatural." 
 
 "It is, indeed, the doings of Him who 
 is wonderful in working,*' replied Deacon 
 P. " It was about ten o'clock, I well re- 
 member, that I plead with God for the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 275 
 
 very articles you sent me, in an agony of 
 wrestling I never knew before. It was 
 then too that my' soul was filled with the 
 conviction that my prayer was heard and 
 relief would come." 
 
 Since hearing a venerated relative relate 
 this incident in his own life, we have often 
 wondered how the skeptic can dispose of 
 such occurrences. While it would be pre- 
 sumption for the believer to expect to live 
 by prayer alone, to be fed without his own 
 cooperation, as was Elijah, yet are there 
 not events happening all along the history 
 of the church, in the experiences of indi- 
 vidual members, to be accounted for only 
 on the ground of a special Providence, re- 
 gardful of the emergencies of the believ- 
 ing, suffering people of God? Surely, 
 ^* light is sown for the righteous," and to 
 them, 
 
 <* The deepest dark reveals the starriest hope."
 
 276 ON THE FEONTIER. 
 
 "A SOFT ANSWER." 
 
 It was in the town of , Connecticut, 
 
 in which I began my never-to-be-forgotten 
 labors, distributing religious reading, and 
 urging the messages of salvation on all I 
 met, as I visited from house to house. 
 
 "If you wish to see the most discoura- 
 ging features of your mission at the outset, 
 visit the Northeast District," a clergyman 
 had said to me ; " every thing that is bad 
 you will find there. I hope it will not 
 discourage you." 
 
 " I had made out, by the aid of Chris- 
 tian friends, a moral and religious chart 
 of the place, by sketching on paper the 
 streets and roads, with the names of the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 277 
 
 families living on them, together with such 
 information about the spiritual condition of 
 the inhabitants as I needed to guide con- 
 versation. 
 
 Among the residents was a Mr. D., who 
 was represented to be a bold, swearing 
 man, high-tempered, and abusive to those 
 of evangelical faith. He had once belonged 
 to a Christian church, but getting into dif- 
 ficulty with some of the members, he be- 
 came imbittered, and ceased to attend the 
 meetings, even on the Sabbath. Ere long 
 he took to drinking, became profane, would 
 work at his trade on the Lord's day, him- 
 self and his numerous household becom- 
 ing openly hostile to the interests of reli- 
 gion, and advocates of the doctrine of Uni- 
 versalism. 
 
 Such was the account of him as given 
 me by his grieved pastor, and others of his
 
 278 ON THE FliONTIEE. 
 
 former friends, who had long since given 
 up all hope of his restoration. 
 
 Mr. D. I found at his blacksmith*s shop, 
 a brawny, dark-browed man. He was blow- 
 ing at the bellows. Approaching him with 
 my basket on my arm, I said, — 
 
 "I have called, sir, with some choice 
 books and tracts ; would you like one ? " 
 
 The old man turned upon me in a tem- 
 pest of passion. 
 
 " What did you bring your miserable 
 fire-and-brimstone trash here for ? " pour- 
 ing forth a torrent of coarse and insulting 
 appellatives. 
 
 Waiting till the ebullition subsided, I 
 gently said, — for a rising pity overpow- 
 ered all natural resentments, — 
 
 " I ask your pardon, sir ; I did not de- 
 sign to intrude on you, but knowing that 
 the works I have are the productions of
 
 :^^-^- -^-^- 
 
 A Soft Answer. Frontier, i>. 278.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 279 
 
 Bome of the best minds, and that they are 
 intended to benefit those who read them, 
 I ventured to offer them to you." 
 
 He stood silent a moment. Then, soft- 
 ened, said, — 
 
 " I will buy one of them ; " and taking 
 up the first volume that came to hand, — a 
 work on the Sabbath, — left a piece of silver 
 in its place, and returned to his task. 
 
 "I heard that you called on Mr. D. at 
 his shop," said the good minister to me, 
 next day ; " how did he receive you ? " 
 
 I described the interview. By way of 
 comment, he said, — 
 
 "Well, the book he purchased was just 
 what he needed. I hope he will read it, 
 but I fear he will not.'' 
 
 Three months after, as I was passing 
 through the place, I called again on the 
 clergyman.
 
 280 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 "I have a desire to know," said I, "if 
 you have seen any fruits of my labor in 
 your parish ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, with a pleased smile, 
 "I have. My congregation has been larger 
 since, than for years. And," he added, 
 " do you remember Mr. D., the black- 
 smith, who treated you so outrageously, 
 but relented, and bought a little treatise 
 on the Sabbath ? What was my astonish- 
 ment, a few Sundays after, to see that 
 man and all his family come into church ! 
 They have been regular attendants ever 
 since." 
 
 Not long after I was permitted to hear 
 that the blacksmith, reclaimed from his 
 backslidings, had been restored to member- 
 ship, and that a number of his children 
 had professed Christ before the world.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 281 
 
 THAT PROMISE. 
 
 At a recent Sabbath school concert the 
 superintendent said, "We have no speak- 
 ers from abroad to announce this evening, 
 and therefore we shall have to rely for re- 
 marks on our home gifts. I see that 
 brother S. is present. We would like to 
 hear from him." 
 
 The person named, a young man, came 
 immediately forward, and said, in sub- 
 stance, — 
 
 " Some years ago I made a promise. It 
 was, that whenever I should be invited to 
 speak a word for Christ, in public, I would 
 make no excuses, but do the best I could. 
 That promise I have ever regarded as sa-
 
 282 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 cred, because it is a promise, and because 
 it was made to my nearest and best Friend. 
 Once I was in fearful danger. He rescued 
 me from that danger. Once I was wretched, 
 without peace of mind, unhappy, degraded. 
 He raised me up from my low estate, 
 comforted and cheered me. Many times 
 since then I have been in trouble and he 
 has helped me. I have sometimes forgot- 
 ten that Friend, often grieved him, said 
 and done things that were displeasing to 
 him, slighted and insulted him in ways 
 that no other friend could overlook, and 
 yet he has been constantly kind, forbear- 
 ing, and generous. All I have that is 
 worth any thing I owe to his love, and all 
 I expect that is desirable and glorious he 
 only can give me. Can you tell me, chil- 
 dren, who that Friend is ? " 
 
 " Jesus ! Jesus ! " responded a score of 
 voices.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 283 
 
 "Yes, dear scholars," he replied, "it 
 was Jesus ; and I can not break my prom- 
 ise to such a Friend. Therefore it is that, 
 though called upon unexpectedly, I will 
 try to interest you for a few moments." 
 And as he proceeded with his remarks — 
 apt, sprightly, impressive, it was plain that 
 that Friend was true to his promise, and 
 was furnishing him richly for that time of 
 need. 
 
 And in thus redeeming our Christian 
 pledge are we not always blest? 
 
 A Christian gentleman, whose " praise is 
 in all the churches," not only for his large- 
 hearted benevolence, but for his excellent 
 gifts in prayer and exhortation, when a 
 young convert, would be so embarrassed, 
 when attempting to speak in conference 
 meeting, as to be obliged to resume his 
 seat almost without uttering a word. But
 
 284 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 he had resolved to persevere ; he kept his 
 resolution and excelled in these services. 
 
 A godly deacon, now seventy-five years 
 of age, leads the devotions of the largest 
 assemblies in and out of the denomination, 
 and expounds Scripture with remarkable 
 acceptance. Yet when a young man his 
 speech was awkward and blundering, and 
 his diffidence extreme. He was so illiter- 
 ate also, that before reading a chapter in 
 the Bible, in the presence of others, his 
 wife had first to read it to him. 
 
 " I made a promise," said he, " when 
 the Lord forgave my sins, that I would 
 never refuse to speak for him, or to pray 
 in public, when properly requested to do 
 60, and I have kept my word." 
 
 Christian reader, have you made a simi- 
 lar promise? Have you kept it?
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 285 
 
 AFTER MANY DAYS. 
 
 Deacon N. held to both tables of the 
 law, and when an object of charity pre- 
 sented itself, he was quite sure to "lend 
 something" to the Lord. One evening a 
 poorly-dressed sailor called at his door with 
 a story of sorrow. He said he had been 
 shipwrecked, and lost every thing but the 
 scanty clothing he wore ; was without 
 money, food, or shelter. He was an entire 
 stranger, and presented an appearance of 
 extreme wretchedness ; but the worthy dea- 
 con took him in, gave him a comfortable 
 supper and bed, fitted him out with coat, 
 pants, and vest, put some of the needful 
 in his empty wallet, and then setting out
 
 286 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 with him in search of employment, se- 
 cured a place for him on board a mer- 
 chant-ship, and bade him good-bj, amid 
 a profusion of blessings and praises. It 
 was a benevolent experiment, and many 
 were the evil prophesyings of neighbors 
 and friends concerning the issue of the 
 case. 
 
 *^ I shall never forget your kindness," 
 said the sailor, " and some day you shall 
 hear from me again, and know that it has 
 not been thrown away." 
 
 Years passed. The kind-hearted deacon 
 failed in business, and removed to a dis- 
 tant town. But if worldly reverses had 
 come, the richer blessings of the gospel 
 were lavished with divine generosity on 
 his household. One after another of his 
 children was made the subject of renew- 
 ing grace, till all were found walking in
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 287 
 
 the commandments and ordinances of the 
 Lord. 
 
 " Two of his sons entered the ministry. 
 In the providence of God one of them was 
 called to spend a Sabbath in the city of 
 
 B . During the evening discourse his 
 
 attention was attracted* to a well-dressed, 
 intelligent looking man, whose eyes were 
 fixed on his with marked interest. After 
 service the stranger said, " May I ask, sir, 
 if your name is N. ? " 
 
 On receiving an answer in the affirma- 
 tive, he exclaimed, with deep emotion, 
 " God bless you, sir ! I knew you from 
 your resemblance to your father. You do 
 not remember me, for you were a little 
 boy when I came to his house, a cast-away 
 sailor, ragged and hungry, without a cent 
 in my pocket. He helped me when others 
 looked at me with suspicion and turned me
 
 288 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 away unfed. I have never forgotten him, 
 and never shall. Tell him I think of him 
 voften, and pray for him, too." 
 
 And as the grateful seaman departed, 
 the generous bank bill that remained in 
 the preacher's hand attested the sincerity 
 of his words.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 289 
 
 MY COUSIN. 
 
 Amiaijle and engaging, she was the life 
 of the circles in which she moved. In 
 personal attractions few were her equals, 
 and from her kind and genial presence 
 depression and gloom fled like darkness 
 before the footsteps of morning. Her open- 
 ing years were full of gladness ; who could 
 foresee that her " days of darkness would 
 be many ? " 
 
 George Evans had won her affections, 
 and well do I remember my desire, though 
 then a mere lad, to know the successful 
 competitor for her hand. I first saw him 
 under circumstances which filled me with 
 apprehension. It was the anniversary of 
 19
 
 290 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 our national independence. He was pass- 
 ing with a crowd when a companion pointed 
 him out. I followed him in anxious curi- 
 osity ; for it seemed to me that he who 
 was to wed my cousin Carrie should be 
 nearly perfect. Many times did I wish my- 
 self far away, as, fascinated by a horror- 
 struck interest, I was jostled in that throng, 
 to hear from his lips the language of pro- 
 fanity, and witness proofs of his intemper- 
 ance. "Was she to be the wife of such a 
 man? Friends had warned him of his evil 
 habits, but he was so manly in appearance, 
 and in her presence so correct in language 
 and deportment, her attendant at church, 
 and manifesting there such a reverence for 
 religion, that she entertained no misgiv- 
 ings. 
 
 They were married. A year elapsed, 
 during which nothing served to mar the
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 291 
 
 happiness of the young couple, and we had 
 well nigh dismissed our fears, when, one 
 autumn evening, in passing their residence 
 I met them. They had just returned from 
 a walk, and were parting at the door. 
 " You will not stay late, will you, George ? " 
 Carrie was saying. I saw that she was 
 pale. The husband gave an evasive reply, 
 and left her. My direction lay with his, 
 and as I followed on, the sorrowful pallor 
 of her face haunted me. Conspicuous on 
 a public corner was one of those gilded 
 hells, which allure to destruction. Evans 
 lingered a moment at the door, then passed 
 hastily down the steps into the " saloon." 
 The power of that infernal magic by which 
 a man of reason is moved to prefer the 
 orgies of such a mystery of iniquity, and 
 the pestilential companionship of bloated, 
 blasphemous wretches, to the society of
 
 292 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 the fair and pure being to whom he is 
 united in holiest bonds, thank God, I know 
 not ; but this I know, that the stricken wife 
 kept vigils of agony through that long 
 night, and when the faithless husband re- 
 turned, it was with unsteady step and bru- 
 tal oaths. This was "but the beginning 
 of sorrows." A friend thus gives a glimpse 
 of her eventful history. 
 
 " You ask after Carrie Carleton. Poor 
 woman, hers has been a sad lot. Her hus- 
 band has di^gged her down the steeps of 
 misfortune, until worn and weary, Con- 
 sumption has smitten her, and she weeps 
 on the verge of the grave. Weeps, did I 
 say ? Yes, for him, but as for herself, she 
 trusts all in the hands of her Saviour. 
 What a miracle is love when hallowed and 
 refined by piety ! Of high family, and nur- 
 tured tenderly, yet allied by marriage to a
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 293 
 
 sot and a tyrant, it is impossible to paint 
 what she has so uncomplainingly endured. 
 Some three years since a hollow cough, 
 and frequent bleeding from the lungs ad« 
 monished that her trials would be short. 
 Physicians gave her up. But see how, at 
 the mercy of circumstances, we are in this 
 world. Evans, under the labors of the 
 Washingtonians, reformed. For a time he 
 seemed a man again, was frugal, industri- 
 ous, and kind. But, insidiously tempted, 
 he tasted again the enchanted cup, and 
 sank lower than before. During his refor- 
 mation Carrie became like one raised from 
 the dead ; her ^tep regained its elasticity, 
 and her laugh its gladness. She attributed 
 this to a change of medicine, but when 
 George again fell, she declined rapidly. 
 His course in the downward road was fear- 
 fully accelerated. His business neglected,
 
 294 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 his credit gone, his days spent in the tip- 
 pling-shop, and his nights in haunts of ini- 
 quity, on her devolved the sustenance of 
 the family. This she worked hard to pro- 
 vide by taking boarders. But who would 
 long remain to witness her sorrows, and 
 to share her ill-treatment at the hands of 
 her ill-clad, profane, and fault-finding com- 
 panion ? So, in a miserable chamber, Car- 
 rie toiled with her needle, solicitous for 
 her husband when away, lest in the help- 
 lessness of inebriety, or in some drunken 
 brawl, injury would come to him, or he 
 commit some horrid crime. 
 
 It was affecting, amid all these hardships, 
 to see how uncomplaining was the wife. 
 When others censured his conduct she 
 would make excuses for him, striving to 
 make it appear that he was not so bad as 
 they thought, or that his evil deeds were 
 attributable to the influence of others.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 295 
 
 Once only did she speak at all freely of 
 her sufferings. It was when visiting at 
 good deacon J.'s. After the family had 
 retired, overburdened with anguish, she 
 poured into the ears of the deacon and his 
 sympathizing wife such a tale of neglect, 
 anxiety, deprivation, and abuse, as well 
 nigh broke their hearts. 
 
 " And why don't you leave such a mon- 
 ster forever ? " said Mrs. J., her eyes stream- 
 ing with tears. 
 
 " Oh ! " she mournfully returned, " you 
 can not tell what you would do as a drunk- 
 ard's wife." Then added, rising and wring- 
 ing her hands, " I love George, with all 
 his faults ! There's no living with him, 
 and there's no living without him ! " 
 
 Some time after, when visiting in a sea- 
 board city, incidentally I learned that Mrs. 
 Evans resided there. I found her in an
 
 296 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 obscure tenement. She welcomed me with 
 a placid smile, — but how changed! so 
 thin and wasted, — while on her cheeks 
 bloomed the fatal crimson. The bare floor 
 and meager furniture bespoke her destitu- 
 tion. In full prospect of death she con- 
 versed calmly of her tribulations, antici- 
 pating with hope the coming of the last 
 messenger. More than a year previous, her 
 husband deserted her on the pretense of 
 going South for business. No tidings had 
 she heard of him, though she diligently 
 searched the papers and inquired at the 
 post-office ; faithful to him, though worse 
 than widowed. 
 
 "And how have your little family man- 
 aged to get along during this hard win- 
 ter?" 
 
 " I have endeavored not to afflict others 
 with our troubles," she replied, " but God
 
 ON THE FKONTIER. 297 
 
 has raised us up benefactors. And in the 
 way in which this has been done I have 
 realized how he would learn us, to the 
 last, lessons of charity toward all. I have 
 long been prejudiced against the Friends ; 
 but one stormy day, when the streets were 
 blocked with snow, and we were very des- 
 titute, one of their number called. I was 
 a little startled when he entered, but be- 
 neath his broad-brimmed hat was a face 
 so benign, that I quickly forgot he was a 
 stranger, and before I was aware he knew 
 something of our necessities. Why, he 
 seemed like my buried father! ^Thee 
 mustn't suffer,' said he ; and since, in our 
 moments of extremity, when others would 
 not venture to come, through the fiercest 
 storms and the bitterest cold, and just 
 when I had been praying with the most 
 urgent sense of need, he, or his lovely wife,
 
 298 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 would be sure to happen in with a load of 
 blessings. Now they are to me as angels 
 of mercy, and even their peculiar garb 
 seems beautiful, and their thee and thou 
 are like music to my heart. Thus does 
 our Father teach us to love all his children 
 ere we meet them in his house above. 
 And thus does he cause strangers to be 
 as parents, when the nearest and dearest 
 forsake us." 
 
 When the balmy south wind unlocked 
 the frozen earth, and hailed by blithe song- 
 sters, the dead plant awoke to beauty and 
 fragrance, Carrie Carleton found the repose 
 of the grave. 
 
 <' Asleep in Jesus ! blessed sleep ! 
 From wMch none ever •wake to weep." 
 
 Though slain by the treachery of man, 
 through the "Faithful and True," she
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 299 
 
 conquered death, and welcomed the tomb 
 with a smile of joy. 
 
 My murdered cousin ! I think of thee 
 in the night watches, and weep at the re- 
 membrance of thy wrongs. But, alas ! 
 thou art not the only victim of the re- 
 morseless rum traffic. From many house- 
 holds has it borne away the fair, the good, 
 and all the heart holds precious. Alas, its 
 premature graves disfigure every hill-side 
 and every plain. 
 
 When shall this great evil cease ? Chris- 
 tians, philanthropists, law-makers, when ?
 
 eSOO ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 INCIDENT IN A DEPOT. 
 
 I WAS pacing the floor, impatiently wait- 
 ing the arrival of the steamer. The other 
 passengers had come in, till the seats in 
 the "gentlemen's room" were quite filled, 
 when the door again opened and a woman 
 entered. She held in her hands some boxes 
 of blacking, and approaching me, as the 
 person nearest the door, offered them for 
 sale. I had scarcely declined purchasing, 
 when, noticing the woman more closely, I 
 regretted not having favored her. Her face 
 was pale, sad, and careworn. Her dress was 
 neat, yet cheap and scant, and her man- 
 ner timid in the extreme. It was plain 
 that my refusal had well nigh frightened
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 301 
 
 away her small stock of courage, for she 
 stood irresolute a moment, as if fearing a 
 similar repulse from others to whom she 
 might apply ; then, summoning resolution, 
 she passed to the man at my right, and 
 asked, faintly, " Will you buy some black- 
 ing, sir ? " 
 
 He also shook his head. She paused 
 once more with a pained look, then mutely 
 tendered the boxes to each person in the 
 room, going unsuccessfully round the en- 
 tire circle. The last one accosted was a 
 young sailor, in tarpaulin and blue jacket. 
 He sat leaning over a paper, reading, 
 when she found voice to say, despondently, 
 "Won't you take a box?" 
 
 By this time the attention of all the per- 
 sons present was fixed on her with deepen- 
 ing interest. The downcast eyes ; the alter- 
 nate pallor and crimson of cheek, and neck.
 
 302 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 and brow; the slow, hesitating step, now 
 advancing, now stopping, as if powerless 
 to proceed ; utterance overcome by emo- 
 tion, — impressed us that some great trouble 
 or an inexorable emergency had brought her 
 thus before us. 
 
 "I don't want your blacking," said the 
 seaman, heartily ; " and if I did, 'twould 
 be of no use to me, for I am more than 
 two hundred miles from home ; but if you 
 want money," drawing forth a handful of 
 loose change, " you can have it ! " At the 
 first movement of his hand pocketward, 
 before his words had interpreted the ac- 
 tion, most of the men present, with ev- 
 ident feeling, were doing the same, 
 and, pouring their united contributions 
 into the apron of the astonished woman, 
 she retired, overpowered with gratitude 
 and joy.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 303 
 
 As I stepped aboard the boat I thought, 
 how eloquent is silence ! No tale of sor- 
 row did this woman present to excite pity. 
 Her mute appeal was understood. And 
 is not many a good cause injured, rather 
 than helped, by the wordiness of its advo- 
 cates ? Are we not often conscious of in- 
 ternal revolt, as we listen to verbose 
 appeals to our sympathies, whether on 
 behalf of private or public charities ? We 
 get accustomed to declamation, to argu- 
 ment, and to peroration, but who can resist 
 sincerity, modesty, sensibility, — the con- 
 densed, broken, or speechless plea of a 
 full heart? 
 
 And then, too, the power of example, — 
 of frank, disinterested, beneficent action, — 
 do we ponder this as we ought? The gen- 
 erous sailor, in his homely sea-garb, led 
 nearly a score of men that day in the
 
 304 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 work of mercy, and the lowliest and poor- 
 est are never so low and poor as to be 
 without the opportunity and means of in- 
 fluencing others by efficiency in well- 
 doing.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 305 
 
 MY STEP-MOTHER. 
 
 I WAS six years of age when she came 
 to fill the terrible void caused by the death 
 of my mother. I can well remember how 
 we children drew back from the stranger 
 who had come to take her place. There 
 were seven of us ; each an idolater at the 
 shrine of our dear mother's memory. The 
 oldest, who possessed a quick, bright intel- 
 lect, and was somewhat willful withal, quite 
 resented the idea of a second mother. Her 
 strong hostility was contagious, for she was 
 at the head of domestic affairs. Then some 
 sympathizing neighbor would place her 
 hand on my head and say; compassion- 
 ately, " Poor boy I You'll have a hard 
 20
 
 306 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 time trying to make a mother out of a 
 mother-in-law. She'll never feel toward 
 you as if you were her own child." 
 
 Well, one day I was measured for a new 
 suit of clothes. Other articles of toilet to 
 correspond came ere long. Indeed, there 
 seemed to be a general refurnishing 
 throughout house and household. What 
 it all meant I could not conjecture, and no 
 one told me. Then one afternoon there 
 came a universal scrubbing of the faces 
 and hands of the children, and we were all 
 dressed in our best clothes. There was 
 something unusual about to take place. 
 What could it be ? Not a meeting, for no 
 such preparation, that is, in kind and 
 spirit, ever preceded those staid religious 
 gatherings often witnessed in our large, 
 old-fashioned parlor. Still, a hush and a 
 gravity pervaded the busy household, im-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 307 
 
 parting a sort of half-and-half aspect, some- 
 what festive and somewhat solemn. At 
 length the important secret was condescend- 
 ingly communicated to me. 
 
 " Now," said my eldest sister, as she 
 combed my hair back a la Majjitt, (for like 
 other sentimentally inclined young ladies 
 of the town, she had been captivated with 
 the Irish preacher's eloquence), "do you 
 behave like a little man this evening, for 
 father 's going to be married, and we are 
 all to be at the wedding ! " 
 
 " Wedding ! What do they do there ? " 
 " Why, you little dunce, there'll be a 
 whole parlor full of folks, and the minis- 
 ter will be there and make a speecli and 
 pray, and marry father and his bride, and 
 then cake and wine will be passed around 
 to all the company. You'll get a large 
 slice of the best cake you ever ate, and a
 
 308 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 sip of the wine, and then — why, then you 
 see, you'll have a step-mother to train you 
 up in the way you should go. How will you 
 like that?" 
 
 Bolt upright, in an exceedingly uncom- 
 fortable position, on a stiff, hard chair, 
 scarcely daring to wink, I sat on that 
 eventful night. Several relatives of the 
 bride spoke kindly to me, without, in the 
 least, relaxing my mental and muscular 
 rigidity, till one of them, , since known as 
 the most lovable of aunts, brought me a 
 piece of handsomely frosted cake, and a 
 glass of wine, both of which I supposed 
 were mysterious parts of the mysterious 
 marriage rite. Though how eating and 
 drinking helped to give me a new mother 
 I did not comprehend. 
 
 " Take it all, dear ! " said she, sinking 
 down before me on the carpet, as I diffi-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 309 
 
 dently broke off a crumb of the cake. 
 " It's yours, and you have just as good a 
 right to it as any body, if you are a little 
 boy.'' 
 
 I obeyed, thinking it a part of the cere- 
 mony, gazing the while into her black 
 eyes, that were soft, and limpid, and 
 loving. 
 
 Our new mother went home with us 
 that night, for the marriage was at " Aunt 
 Abby's." What a prim set we were in- 
 deed ! What a constraint was on us, know- 
 ing a mother-in-law was installed in the 
 home, to reign over us, her unwilling sub- 
 jects. Very undemocratic it seemed, cer- 
 tainly, for we hadn't cast a vote nor been 
 consulted even ! However, the general 
 awkwardness was relieved by her leaving 
 home on a bridal visit. She was to be 
 gone a fortnight. How glad we were!
 
 310 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 How we dreaded her return, gossiping 
 about it, hoping it might be protracted. 
 But she came promptly back to her post, 
 and, spite of my suspicions, I couldn't help 
 a warm glow as she kissed us each, and, 
 unpacking her trunk, gave the presents she 
 had brought us. Her cordial, motherly 
 greeting was a shock to our prejudices, 
 from which they did not at once recover. 
 But objections to the step-mother of a more 
 personal nature were soon discussed. 
 
 " To think that your father should marry 
 a country woman, farm-born and bred," 
 said one. " She can not have seen any 
 thing of society, and must be coarse and 
 low. And your first mother was a perfect 
 lady ! " 
 
 " New brooms sweep clean," suggested 
 another, " but look out for black eyes ; 
 they are always deceitful ! "
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 311 
 
 Poor, dear woman ! little did she know 
 what a burden she was assuming in becom- 
 ing the wife of a widower with seven chil- 
 dren, who had been taught to distrust her 
 noblest actions, and set her authority at 
 defiance. But meagerly could she fore- 
 cast the toil and anxiety, the heart-griefs 
 and perplexities that were to wait on her 
 footsteps daily ; the gloomy hours of sick- 
 ness and of death ; the battlings with pecu- 
 niary reverses ; the clothing, and feeding, 
 and nurturing of those henceforward to call 
 her mother. But, having put her hand to 
 the plow, she did not turn back from the 
 heavy responsibilities of her lot. With a 
 heroic endurance, a sublime self-forgetful- 
 ness, that, a thousand times since assuming 
 manhood's cares have filled me with won- 
 der as I have retraced her history, did slie 
 press forward, conquering difficulties, win-
 
 312 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 ning triumphs, until, without a peer, she 
 sat enthroned in our love in her beautiful, 
 I had almost said angelic goodness, and 
 costly devotion. 
 
 Ah ! what would have become of us with- 
 out her? What a marvel of a worker she 
 was ! Early and late at her tasks, never 
 lagging, turning off labor with a despatch 
 that few might hope to rival. The sweet 
 breath of the country, its good, honest fare, 
 its healthful scenes, — what would she have 
 done as our mother without the firm-toned 
 constitution they had molded. And in 
 her little tripping way, as she almost flew 
 about house, how graceful ! 
 
 Rarely did she administer chastisement, 
 however richly deserved, for she well knew 
 that officious critics would intermeddle. 
 She referred our misdemeanors to father. 
 Though even then, there were those wlio
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 313 
 
 intimated before us that she loved to find 
 fault with her step-children. 
 
 One day an incident laid bare her heart 
 in some measure to my eyes. 
 
 I had been perverse, disrespectful, diso- 
 bedient. As a punishment, she sent me to 
 bed supperless. I knew the punishment 
 was deserved, but went to my room mutter- 
 ing complaints. At length I fell asleep. 
 How long I remained thus I do not know, 
 but suddenly waking I saw her kneeling 
 at the bedside, her face pale, and her 
 eyes mournfully fixed upon me. 
 
 " Oh," said she, gently, " I am so glad 
 you awoke. You lay so still I was almost 
 afraid you were not alive ; I was listening 
 to hear if you breathed. Are you well, 
 dear? I came in to see. I know it's hard 
 for you to go without your supper ; it was 
 hard for me to punish you, but I do want
 
 314 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 you to be a good boy, that you may grow 
 up a good and useful man ! " Then, after 
 a moment's pause, in eager tones, she con- 
 tinued, " Do you really think, dear child, 
 that I love to find fault with you ? or that 
 I wronged you to-night in what I said or 
 did ? " 
 
 Thus did she yearn after me with a 
 mother's solicitude, and humble herself to 
 plead with me after my wanton disobedi- 
 ence. My heart melted, and I said, " I 
 have been a naughty, selfish boy, and you 
 have been too kind to me. I deserved to 
 be punished. I want you to forgive and 
 love me." 
 
 How tenderly she imprinted a kiss upon 
 my forehead, and fervently imploring God's 
 blessing, glided from the room. 
 
 Hers was a rugged path for the most 
 part, such as one sees running up a moun-
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 315 
 
 tain side, over roots, and stones, and bram- 
 bles. From what secret spring did she 
 derive her more than human strength? 
 Where obtain the patience and fortitude 
 that glorified her daily character ? Ah ! is 
 there more than one fountain-head ? Ris- 
 ing before day, while yet the occupants of 
 the house were wrapped in sleep, she would 
 retire to a little room and pour out her 
 soul in fervent prayer. Sometimes the still 
 air of the morning twilight has seemed to 
 my quickened sensibilities to be pervaded 
 and throbbing, as if her very soul, in its 
 fervent pleadings, filled the space around 
 me. Strangely thrilled, I have listened, 
 wondering at the feeling that oppressed 
 me ; awe, sadness, self-dissatisfaction, de- 
 sires for a better life crowding upon the 
 mind, as the plaintive, tremulous voice 
 could just be heard. When she had left
 
 J5I6 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 communing with her divine Friend, and 
 we met her at the morning meal, no one 
 would fail to be struck with her aspect; 
 serious, serene, trustful — peace, Christ's 
 peace, impressed upon her brow. You 
 would take knowledge of her that she had 
 been with Jesus. 
 
 " Ah ! " said one, " when she has chil- 
 dren of her own then you'll see a differ- 
 ence ! " 
 
 Well, Lizzie, with her dark, reflective 
 eyes, came. Afterwards plump little Sa- 
 rah, with her hazel orbs. And was it not 
 a miracle that half-sisters and brothers grew 
 so into unity as to need to be reminded 
 that the full relation was not theirs ! 
 
 How often I have collected my scattered 
 faculties, as if to master a new thought, 
 when a visitor remarked, " These are your 
 step-sisters, I suppose?"
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 317 
 
 " Step-sisters ! " I would reply. " Oh, 
 yes, I had forgotten it ! " quickly to for- 
 get it again. 
 
 And what a love was hers! What deli- 
 cate, far-reaching sympathies ! what bound- 
 less charity ! what intuitive perception of 
 other's rights, and ready, persuasive cham- 
 pionship of the unappreciated and the 
 wronged. What genial, winning ways to- 
 wards the young ; how self-denyingly benev- 
 olent. And as age enfeebled her step and 
 silvered her head, growing younger and 
 younger in her tastes, responding to the 
 innocent jest, delighting in innocent enjoy- 
 ments, charming every one with her kind 
 words and kind deeds. 
 
 " Grandmother is coming ! " Henry, the 
 youngest, would exclaim, as he rushed into 
 the house to be first with the good news. 
 
 Sure enough. Feebly tripping along,
 
 318 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 with a mysterious package, too heavy for 
 her strength, under her arm, she would 
 approach, panting with exertion, her face 
 radiant with affection. 
 
 " mother ! " we would say, " you 
 have taken too much pains to see us — 
 the walk is too much for you ! " 
 
 " Don't say a word ! " she would answer, 
 deprecatingly ; "I couldn't stay away any 
 longer. I must know how you all do. 
 And here," undoing her bundle, '" are 
 some little things I have brought for the 
 children." 
 
 Her energetic heart grew in wealth of 
 love marvel ously, and her sympathies em- 
 braced the world. But specially among 
 her kindred did their quick and active 
 power appear. It was strange to us how 
 soon she became aware of it, if any trouble 
 invaded our ranks.
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 319 
 
 One night, sudden, evil news, of which 
 none knew but ourselves, kept our little 
 circle sleepless. We lived remote from the 
 maternal roof. Next morning, calling 
 there, mother took me aside and said, 
 " Tell me, my son, if you were unhappy 
 last night. I must know, for I could not 
 sleep — you were on my mind so. It 
 seemed to me that you were in trouble ! " 
 
 But she's gone. Three weeks ago to- 
 day, over the wires flew the message: 
 ^"^ Mother is very sick, and can live only a 
 few hours ? " 
 
 Then immediately following came the 
 crushing announcement of her death. 
 
 But she passed away as she had lived. 
 In usual health she stood by her chair, 
 about to take her seat at the dinner-table, 
 uttering one of her pleasant remarks, when 
 the wing of the death angel touched her;
 
 820 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 she fell, speechless, unconscious, and never 
 revived. It was as if the loving Saviour 
 designed her last words should be like 
 her, should represent her, and from the 
 family board her spirit went up to the 
 kindred hearts around the feast>table of 
 heaven. 
 
 Dear, noble, sainted mother ! how can 
 we bear to see thee no more and hear no 
 more thy words of love ! But thou art 
 safe, happy, robed in glory. 
 
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