Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1864-07-22

By KATE CRAYON.

7 say to you, and though your soul is fill
ed with wars and rumOrs of wars
though for three years past you hav'
talked of lite else than victory and de
: feat, cannon and bloodshed, you will
} not spurn from your columns mere ru
/ raj sketch, written from this region O
: calms, southern Minnesota?
One evening last week, we, which sig
nifies not an editorial L, but the Rev
-, his estimable lady and four des
moiselles of various ages, entered into
solemn compact to be armed and equip
ped next morning, at two o'clock for 6
ride to Minnehaha and vicinity. All
accordingly retired, in good time for 6
key on my eyelids, in vain count piles
of hundreds forwards and backwards
At half past one reused the more for
tunate ones, who rubbed their eyes, and
expressed the deluded opinion that they
had but just fallen alseep.
Half-past two found us and our bas-
kets slowed away in q three-seated bar
ouche, as wide awake as though we had
done our usual homage at the shrine of
Morpheus.
Our exuberance found vent in loud
chorus of patriotic songs, which reused
our worthy tOwns-people, and threw
several nocturnal watchers Of the canine
species, into furious barking fits.
Before three o'clock, smile peeped
above the Eastern bluffs, and slowly de-
velOped into one of earth's most glori-
GUS Sun-rlseS.
At four, the birds, not forgetting rs
we often do, to be made happy by Gods
cOmmonest gifts, were warbling their
sweetest morning praises.
| or l.
and we had enjoyed so much beauty that
we sighed for all the wasted morning
hours of our past life.
AT six o'clock the sun-GOd's smile
was waxing warm, and some doubts
We're expressed in regard to the practical
bility of breakfasting "behind the
spray" fanciful idea of our enthusas-
tic friend Mary B.
AT seven, we discovered that the Rev.
gentleman had clandestinely dived into
the sandwich basket, and our appetites
getting the better of our poetry, we
abandoned the idea of a kfast under
Minnehaha's shelving rock, and voted
en- nsdsse to follow his example. Poor
disappointed Mary B. however, wrapped
small bit Of her share in paper, intend
ing to save it until she should reach the
falls, but forgetful of the fact that butter
| IiSACS, WAcu cApOScu W 1uIellSc ueat-
our beautiful morning was maturing in
to one of Minnesota's hottest days-she
held the morsel in close proximity to
her CUR colored hat strings, and soon
discovered thereon, greatly to her dis
may, a huge deposit of what the world
calls grease.
Wearily, roastingly dragged the hours
after eight o'clock, until glimpse of
Pilot Knob and the dear old flag waving
from our fort-named Smelling, from its
| first cOmmandant-rouse us into some
thing like enthusiasm.
| One who has read the early history of
our State, witnesses in Imagination,
when nearing Fort Smelling, many past
events, full of western peril and wild
ness. AS we were being slowly ferricd
across the MinnesOta-a river so beauti-
full that l have it framed in my souls
picture gallery-I could almost see that
weary company of soldier-boys, who in
1919, under Col. Leavenworth, slowly
ascended the Mississippi in their tedious
| keel boats, becoming more and more
| inpatient as they approached the june
ton OF the two streams, where by order
of John G. Calhoun, then Secretary of
War, military post was to be establish
Cd.
Brave women too, lis that adjective
unfeminine, o, JoURNAL?) were there.
wives of the officers, who would not
trust their "liege lordsn alone with
Dacotah warriors, but came to share the
danger, living in boats until their rude
huts were erected.
Here our pioneers watched and work
ed for years, cut off almost entirely
from the world they had left.
What Rip Van Winkle waking they
| 1>.,r
heard, one day, the olden time puff. of a
steamer, which proved to be the Virgin
ia, a stern-wheel boat from st. Louis,
honored in history as the first to plough
the waters of the Upper Mississippi.
We may be sure they sent up glad
cheers of welcome, but not so the red
skins-men, women and children gazed
at the monster rs j; neared the shore,
with silent aat0nishment. When it
touched land they gathered their blank
cts about them, beat hasty retreat, and
stopped to gaze again, but when the
steam-pipe sent forth its shrill whistle,
their CONSERVATION knew no bounds.
Mothers forgot their "littIe injuns,"
chiefs their stoicism, and with shrieks
of alarm fled pell-mell from the terrible
water god. AS we approach the Fort,
the past grows dim in scenes of the
present.
We forgot to immortalize Mrs. Clark,
wife of the cOmmissary, who was the
first white woman to tread this soil; for
got to laugh about the forlorn couple
who arrived, "all weary and worn," at
Prairie du Chen, one cold winter day,
having come all the way from the fort,
a distance of three hundred miles, to
find a dignitary authorized to tie the
hymenial knot.
1t is said they We're married on, the ice,
and furthermore, that this was the only
wedding connected with thecompany at
the fort during eight years. The histo-
rian apolOgetically says Gas the reason
for this barbarous TRUTH, that there was
but one unmarried lady in their circle.
In 1S45, the fort, which was originally
of logs, was rebuilt of stone, and is an
ornament as well as a protection to our
State.
Four years ago it was used as grand
agricultural depot on State Fair days.
None dreamed then, when walking
among mammoth pumpkins, potatoes
and caulifiowers, that it would so soon
be transformed into home for our gall
liant brothers, as regiment after regiment
they came, a willing sacrifice for their
country's salvation.
Around the main building has sprung
up village of government buildings,
and near by is the old camping ground
of the miserable Indians who have made
such horribly bloody page in our his
tory.
The prairie on the north is cutup with
rifle-pits. Here the raw recruits take
their first lessons in drilling and fight
sham battles, which we heartily wish
may soon be the only kind fought.
Three miles from the Fort. that beau-
tiful Observation-Disclosures
the hours.
Not the maiden, Minnehaha,"
"WOoed and won by Hiawatha."
But our far-famed, laughing waters,
Rippling, dancing mid the bushes,
Loved and wooed by all who see her