Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-10-26
From Ballou's Magazine.l
SUSAN WOLCOTT.
BY EARL MARBLE,

"There's where the school-house
stood, over In the hollow to the left, some
three-quarters of mile; and this house
Just ahead, If my memory serves me
correctly, must be the Wolcott house
Judge Wolcott now, I am told
So I spoke to my friend Gus Greyson
az we sauntered along the country road
together.
Some fifteen years had passed since I
had stood on the spot before, and / was
not quite sure of the locality. I had
spent my boyhood here up to the time I
was ten years old, and then with my
parents had joined that other "innumer-
able caravan" that took westward
course quite as picturesquely if not as
Welrdly at one time In our history as
that other one does toward the shades of
death that Bryant describes SO feelngly
in his Thanatopsis.
All, that almost amending string of
covered wagons that stretched across the
continent In the ffties taking its start
IN the great California gold excitement
of 1S49, and continuing almost unceas-
ngly until the report of the cannon
fired at Fort Sumter dozen years later,
stopped the tide and turned it in an
other direction; this time not in peace,
but in war.
Where are the Ohio and Indiana poets
of those days, that they do not catch the
spirit of this moving scene and emhalm
it in fitting verse Howells has Just
touched on the scene in a delightful way,
but no other that | am aware of. How
the strings of wagons houndered through
the mud and rolled over the occasional
limestone and turnpike of the two states
mentioned, and then wound along in
graceful curves in keeping with the roll
ing lands of Illinois, Then the Missis-
sippi was reached-by those who went
so far. And what sight was that grand
river to those who saw it for the first
time 1t was at Burlington, the city
since made famous by Burdette and the
Hawkeye. One bright May morning
early In the fifties, newly located farm
er some fifteen miles east of the river
had pointed out some high bluffs in the
distance, and said that those were on the
other side Of the river, in Iowa; and how
my young enthusiasm fired my ten-year-
old breast at the sight! Before night I
could see the Mississippi River Iwon-
der If the children of Israel felt happier
than L did at that instant? Probably
accumulated disappointments and sor-
rows.
How long that day seemed as we toiled
through the fifteen-mile river bottom
that we were obliged to cross before
reaching the Father of Waters Slowly
we plodded Oh in the dense shade of the
cotton woods, and nearer and nearer we
came to the broad stream of water
4 Il &C
children were ahead of the wagon, each
eager for first glimpse of the majestic
river, when we met two or three men In
high-topped boots and slouched hats, and
eagerly inquired how far it was to the
river, and were informed that it was ssa
clipper walk of nigh onto five minutes. "
/ remember, as / started into brisk
run, how they could speak In such a
prosy commonplace way, if they had
Just looked upon its swelling bosom. In
two minutes, all out of breath, [ stood
upon the bank, gazing with wonder over
what seemed to me some placid lake,
with hidden power beneath its surface
impelling it onward like a current of
fate. And here was the ferry boat in
which we were to go up the river seven
miles to Burlington. I do not remem-
Der the ride to Burlington, nor any in
cident IN our subsequent journey into
the interior of Iowa. Everything fades
into an indistinct background from which
that first view of the Mississippi River
stands out with clear and sharp distinct
ness.
But here I am writing of the fifties
when the sixties demand my attention.
I had reverted in mind to those days a
moment after making the speech with
which this story opens, and was aroused
from an instant's revere by the voice OF
Gus saying:
81 say, Ernest, old boy, you might
ask this old dufer coming along here
some questions.
So / did.
"House't Jedge Wolcott lives in? Oh,
yes right ahead there Got daughter
Sue Shouldn't wonder tall. Bright
gal too, though trihe mopey like sence
her lover ha'n't been heard from sence
the war closed. He was put down 'mone
the missing in the Wilderness, and ha
Mt never been heard from sence. They
was to We been married's soon Is he was
mustered out; but folks bout here be-
gin to think he's been mustered In Oh
t'other side of Jordan"
Would the man never stop his CAB
Every word that he uttered went to my
heart like knife.
was young and susceptible in those
days. | have learned since to look al
things more philosophically.
"Thank you, l said to the man. Z" j
thought that was the house."
So say, neighbour, he said, as 1 was
moving on, "your face is kinder familiar
somehow. Ha' ut [ seenyou somewhere
afore now?"
&c It's just possible. if you have LIVED
here long. [ lived here when [ was,
bow "