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[Frontispiece: Pardee Butler]


PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS

OF

PARDEE BUTLER

WITH REMINISCENCES, BY
HIS DAUGHTER,

MRS. ROSETTA B. HASTINGS

AND ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS

ELD. JOHN BOGGS AND ELD. J. B. MCCLEERY.

CINCINNATI

STANDARD PUBLISHING COMPANY


1889




PREFACE.

I have not attempted to write a complete biography of my father,
but merely to supplement his "Recollections" with a few of my own
reminiscences. He was a man who said little in his family about his
early years, or about any of the occurrences of his eventful life. Nor
did he ever keep any journal, or any account of his meetings, or of the
number that he baptized. He seldom reported his meetings to the
newspapers. I think it was only during the few years that he was
employed by missionary societies, that he ever made reports of what he
accomplished. He had even destroyed the most of his old letters. And so,
for nearly all information outside of my own recollections, I have been
indebted to the kindness of relatives and friends.

The later chapters have been written by men who knew my father
intimately, and men whose reputations are such as to give weight to
their testimony.

To all of these friends I now offer my thanks for their kind assistance.

And to the public I offer this book, not for its literary merit, but as
the tribute of a daughter to a loved father, whose earnest devotion to
duty was worthy of imitation.

MRS. ROSETTA B. HASTINGS.

_Farmington, Kansas, April 23,1889._




INTRODUCTION

In this country inherited fortunes, or ancestral honors, have little
effect on a man's reputation; but inherited disposition and early
surroundings have much effect on his character.

My father's ancestors were from New England. His father, Phineas Butler,
came from Saybrook, Connecticut, where the Congregational Churches
framed the Saybrook platform. His mother's people, the Pardees, came
from Norfork, Connecticut. The Pardees were said to have been
descendants of the French Huguenots. Ebenezer Pardee emigrated to
Marcellus, now known as Skaneateles, Onondaga Co., New York. There he
died in 1811, leaving his wife Ann Pardee, (known for many years as
grandmother Pardee) a widow, with nine sons and two daughters. The
eldest daughter, Sarah Pardee, was there married in 1813, to Phineas
Butler; and there my father, who was the second of seven children, was
born, March 9, 1816.

In the autumn of 1818, Phineas Butler, of whom I shall hereafter speak
as grandfather Butler, went to Wadsworth, Medina Co., Ohio. There a
settlement had been begun three years before in the heavy timber, and
there were only a few small clearings here and there in the woods.

My grandmother came on with her brother the following spring. She had
three small children, but they made the journey in a sled, in bad
weather, cutting their own roads, and camping in the woods at night.
Grandmother Pardee came on later. She was a woman of great energy, and
brought up her sons so well that they all became leading men in the
communities in which they lived. Grandmother Butler was also a capable,
fearless woman, and so calm and firm that it was said no vexation was
ever known to ruffle her temper.

Their cabins were built of logs, with hewed puncheon floors and doors;
and on the roof, in the place of nailed shingles, were split shakes,
fastened on with poles and wooden pins. But grandfather had brought a
few nails (made by a blacksmith) from New York, and used them in his
house. When a neighbor died they hewed out puncheons to make a coffin,
and finding only eighteen nails in the neighborhood, grandfather, by
torchlight, pulled fourteen more out of his house to finish the coffin.

Their lives were full of hardship and privation. Grandfather was a
famous hunter, and his well aimed rifle sometimes furnished game that
kept the neighborhood from starvation. He was dependent on bartering
furs at some distant trading post, for his supplies of salt, needles,
ammunition and other necessary articles that could not be made at home.

Often, after a hard day's work, he hunted half of the night to obtain
coonskins and other furs. Father said that one night grandfather and
Orin Loomis were out hunting coons with the dogs, having taken their
axes to chop down coon trees, but no guns, when they found a bear, on a
small island, in the middle of a swamp. But I find his bear story so
well told in the "_Wadsworth Memorial_" that I will quote from
that:

"In the fall of 1823, as Butler and Loomis were returning after midnight
from one of their hunts, and had arrived within a mile or two of home it
was noticed that the dogs were missing. Presently a noise was heard, far
back in the rear.

"'Hark! What was that?' said Loomis. They listened awhile, and agreed it
was dogs, sure.

"'Orr, let's go back,' said Butler.

"'No, it is too late,' answered Loomis.

"'But,' said Butler, 'I'll warrant the dogs are after a bear; don't
you hear old Beaver? It sounds to me like the bark of old Beaver when he
is after a bear.'

"Butler was bound to go back, and so they started. The scene of the
disturbance was finally reached, after traveling two or three miles. The
dogs had found a bear; but it was in the middle of Long Swamp, and the
alders were so thick that there was scarcely room for man, dog or bear
to get through. This did not deter Phin. Butler, however. They got near
enough to find that the bear was stationed on a spot a little drier than
the main swamp, surrounded by alder bushes, and that she was determined
not to leave it. The dogs would bay up close, when the old bear would
run out after them. They would retreat, and then she would run back to
her nest again.

"'We can't kill her to-night,' said Loomis, 'we will have to go home and
come down again in the morning.'

"'No,' replied Butler, 'I am afraid she will get away. We can kill her
to-night, I guess. You can go and hiss on the dogs on one side, and I
will come up on the other; and when she runs out after them, I'll cut
her back-bone off with the ax.'

"They concluded to try this plan, and came very near succeeding. As the
old bear rushed past, Butler put the whole bit of the ax into her back,
but failed to cut the back-bone by an inch or two. Enraged and
desperate, she sprang upon the dogs, who, emboldened by the presence of
their masters, came too close. With one of her enormous paws she came
down on old Beaver, making a large wound in his side, which nearly
killed him. He was hardly able to crawl out of the swamp.

"The fight was then abandoned until morning, as without Beaver to lead
the dogs it was useless to proceed. It was difficult to get the old dog
home, but he finally got well. Early in the morning the hunters were on
the ground. This time they had their guns with them, but found the old
bear was gone. On examining her nest of the night before, her unusual
ferocity was explained. She had a litter of cubs, which, however, she
had succeeded in removing, and must have carried them off in her mouth.
In a short time the dogs had tracked her out. She was found a half mile
lower down the swamp, where she had a new nest. Butler's rifle soon
dispatched her; but her cubs, four in number, and not more than three or
four weeks old, were taken alive, and kept for pets."

Father said that he could remember when they brought the bears home,
growling, snarling--the crossest little things he ever saw.

Strange as it may seem, my father did not inherit grandfather's love for
hunting. I never saw him shoot a gun, and he has never owned one within
my recollection.

Orin Loomis was often heard to say that Phin. Butler was the most
courageous man he ever knew. He was quick-tempered, but warm-hearted,
and full of fun, and as honest and sincere as he was bold and fearless.
One time he was traveling, and stopped at a tavern. The strangers
present were discussing the statement that every man has his price, and
each man was telling what was the least price for which he would tell a
lie. Finally one man said that he would tell a lie for five dollars.
Grandfather's impetuous nature could stand it no longer, and he burst
out scornfully: "Tell a lie! Tell a lie for five dollars! Sell your
manhood! Sell your soul for five dollars! You must rate yourself very
cheap!" And then, they said, he fairly preached them a sermon on the
nobility of perfect truthfulness, and the littleness and meanness of
lying and deceitfulness.

My grandmother was also very conscientious, which was illustrated by the
fact that on her death-bed, after giving some good advice to her
daughters, she charged them to carry home a cup of coffee that she had
borrowed.

An old Wadsworth friend, writing to us since father's death, says of
him: "From a boy Pardee was remarkable for his uprightness, and bold and
strict honesty, and it was a maxim among the boys to say, 'As honest as
Pard, Butler.' He and his father before him were specimens of
puritanical honesty and courage, and had they lived in the days of
Cromwell and in England, would doubtless have been in Cromwell's army."

Scarcely was the settlement begun when a school was taught in one room
of a log dwelling-house. When but three years old, father was a pupil in
the first school that was taught in the new school-house, by Miss Lodema
Sackett, and continued to attend school a part of every year. Books were
scarce, but he was fond of reading, and read, over and over, all that he
could obtain.

The Western Reserve was settled mainly by New Englanders, who were
intelligent and God-fearing men; and religious meetings were held from
the first; printed sermons being read aloud when there was no preacher.
A Sunday-school was organized in Wadsworth in 1820.

The most influential man in the neighborhood was Judge Brown, an uncle
of "John Brown of Ossawatomie." He was noted for the purity of his
life, the dignity of his demeanor, and the firmness with which he
defended his views. He was a bitter opponent of slavery, and, what was
strange in those days, a strong temperance man. Before leaving
Connecticut he had heard Lyman Beecher deliver his famous temperance
sermons, and he came to Wadsworth with his soul ablaze with temperance
zeal. The community was strongly influenced by him, and father said that
he was much indebted to Judge Brown for his temperance and anti-slavery
principles.

Even in those early days Wadsworth contained a public library, a lyceum
where the young men discussed the questions of the day, and an academy.
Father took part in the lyceum debates, though he was said to be slow of
speech; and attended the Wadsworth Academy from its beginning, in 1830.
One of its most successful teachers was a shrewd Scotchman named John
McGregor. Father and several young men from a distance, who boarded at
grandfather's and attended this school, spent their evenings studying
their lessons, or reading and discussing some good book. Dick's
scientific works were among the books thus read.

There were many Lutherans, Dutch Reformers, and Mennonites near
Wadsworth, and there was a perfect ferment of religious discussion.

During father's boyhood, Alexander Campbell and Walter Scott had been
preaching the union of Christians on the Bible alone, and there was
great enthusiasm.

Eld. Newcomb, an honored Baptist preacher, together with my grandfather,
and Samuel Green--the father of Almon B. Green and Philander Green--had
been reading the writings of A. Campbell for several years. Almon B.
Green had been made skeptical by the unintelligible orthodox preaching.
But one day, after reading the first four books of the New Testament, he
exclaimed, "No uninspired man ever wrote that book." He read on until he
came to Acts ii. 38, which he took to Eld. Newcomb, asking him its
meaning. "It means what it says," was his reply. In a few days Almon was
baptized by Eld. Newcomb, simply on his confession of faith in Christ,
without telling any experience, as usually required by the Baptists.
Soon afterwards four families, the New-combs, Greens, Butlers and
Bonnels, all Baptists, united to form a church on the apostolic pattern.
Then William Hayden came with his fiery eloquence and wondrous songs;
the people were stirred up, opposition aroused, the various creeds were
discussed with renewed energy, and the church grew and multiplied.

But father and his uncle Aaron, who was eight years older than himself,
had been made skeptical by orthodox mysticism and the disputes of so
many wrangling churches.

In September, 1833, A. Campbell came to Wadsworth to attend a great
yearly meeting held in William Eyle's barn. The following account of
an incident that occurred at that time, I quote from "History of the
Disciples on the Western Reserve."

"An incident occurred at this time which displays Mr Campbell's
character for discernment and candor. Aaron Pardee, a gentleman residing
in the vicinity, an unbeliever in the gospel, attracted by Campbell's
abilities as a reasoner, and won by his fairness in argument, resolved
to obtain an interview and propose freely his difficulties. Mr. Campbell
received him with such frankness that he opened his case at once,
saying, 'I discover, Mr. Campbell, you are well prepared in the
argument and defenses of the Christian religion. I confess to you
frankly there are some difficulties in my mind which prevent my
believing the Bible, particularly the Old Testament.'

"Mr. Campbell replied, 'I acknowledge freely, Mr. Pardee, there are
difficulties in the Bible--difficulties not easy to explain, and some,
perhaps, which in our present state of information can not be cleared
up. But, my dear sir, when I consider the overwhelming testimony in its
favor, so ample, complete and satisfactory, I can not resist the
conviction of its divine origin. The field of prophetic inspiration is
so varied and full, and the internal evidence so conclusive, that, with
all the difficulties, the preponderance of evidence is overwhelming in
its favor.' This reply, so fair and manly, and so different from the
pulpit denunciations of 'skeptics,' 'infidels,' etc., to which he had
been accustomed, quite disarmed him, and led him to hear the truth and
its evidence in a much more rational state of mind. Within a year he
became fully satisfied of the truthfulness of the Holy Scriptures, and
apprehending clearly their testimony to the claims of Jesus of Nazareth
as the anointed Son of God, he was prepared to yield to him the
obedience of his life."

My father was present with his uncle Aaron at that interview with Mr.
Campbell, and he too was led by it to listen favorably to Mr. Campbell's
clear and powerful presentation of divine truth. He followed Mr.
Campbell to other meetings, and listened, read, and investigated until
he, too, became convinced of the truth of the Bible.

His uncle Aaron, who is still living, said in a recent letter: "I
remember going to meeting with Pardee sometime about a year before I was
immersed, when he put some questions to me on the subject of religion,
which were very difficult to answer."

In June, 1835, at a meeting held in Mr. Clark's new barn, my father and
his uncle, Aaron Pardee, confessed their Saviour, and were baptized by
Elder Newcomb in a stream on Elder Newcomb's farm. A brother and sister
of A. B. Green, and a sister of Holland Brown, were baptized at the same
time. Holland Brown had been baptized the previous week. He walked down
to the water with father, and remembers hearing him exclaim, on the way
to the water, "Lord, I believe! Help thou mine unbelief." He also
remembers hearing Elder Newcomb remark, "Now we can take everything; we
have Bro. Butler and Bro. Pardee to fight the infidels, and the Browns
to fight the Universalists." Holland Brown's brother, Leonard, and his
wife--he had married my father's eldest sister, Ann Butler--had been
baptized not far from that time.

Holland Brown relates the following incident, which occurred some time
afterward:

"Bro. Butler was away from home, and driving a horse, which, though of
fine appearance, was badly wind-broken. At times the horse appeared
perfectly sound, and at one of those times Bro. Butler was offered a
handsome sum for him.

"No," said Bro. Butler, "I can not take that sum for the horse, he is
badly wind-broken."

"Why didn't you take it? the man was a jockey, anyhow;" asked some one
in my hearing.

"'Because,' was the ringing answer, 'I think less of the price of a
horse than of my own soul.'"

About that time father began teaching school in neighboring districts,
which he followed for several years. But all of his spare time was spent
in studying the Bible, church history, the writings of A. Campbell, and
other religious books. It was at that time that he began committing the
New Testament to memory.

Grandfather Butler and Samuel Green were the leaders of the new
organization, as they had been of the Baptist Church, in Eld. Newcomb's
absence--for he was away evangelizing much of the time. They called on
the young people to take part in their social meetings on the Lord's
day, at first only asking them to read a passage of Scripture, afterward
to talk and pray, and, as they gained confidence in themselves, they
were asked to lead the meetings. Thus there grew, in that church, one
after the other, within a few years, eight preachers: A. B. Green, Wm.
Moody, Holland Brown, Leonard Brown, Philander Green, B. F. Perky,
Pardee Butler and L. L. Carpenter.

A. B. Green had been preaching a year or more before father was baptized,
but I do not know which of the others began first, nor do I know the
exact time when father began to preach, but it was about 1837 or 1838.
He was not ordained at Wadsworth, for the church at that time doubted
whether there was any Scriptural authority for ordination. He was
ordained some six or seven years afterward, in 1844, at Sullivan.

In such times of religious excitement it was not necessary for a man to
have a college education, to become an acceptable preacher. But father
saw the advantages of a good education, and resolved to attend A.
Campbell's school, then known as Buffalo Academy, but which was soon
changed to Bethany College. But the means to acquire an education must
be obtained by his own exertions.

About the year 1839 grandfather sold his place in Wadsworth, and moved
to the Sandusky Plains, a level, marshy prairie, in northwestern Ohio.
Part of the Plains belonged to the Wyandotte Indian Reservation, and was
opened to settlement, a few years afterward, by the removal of the
Indians to Wyandotte, Kansas.

Father and grandfather made sheep-raising their business while there.
Father herded sheep in summer and taught school in winter. And, while
herding sheep, he finished committing the New Testament to memory. He
could repeat it from beginning to end, and even in his later years he
remembered it so well that he could repeat whole chapters at once. I
never saw the time that any one could repeat a verse in the New
Testament to him, but that he could tell the book, and nearly always the
chapter in which it was found.

He and his father's family put their membership into the church at
Letimberville, some miles distant; and there he occasionally preached.

He sometimes went back to Wadsworth, and on the way back and forth
stopped and preached for the little church at Sullivan, Ashland Co.
There he made the acquaintance of Sibjl S. Carleton, the daughter of
Joseph Carleton, one of the leading members of the church. They were
married August 17, 1843; and he never had cause to regret his choice,
for she proved to him a helpmeet indeed.

While living there, at the solicitation of his neighbors, he held a
debate with a Universalist preacher, to the satisfaction of his friends
and the discomfiture of his opponent.

Many parts of the Plains were covered with water, and were musical with
frogs in the spring, but in hot weather they dried up, leaving here and
there a stagnant pond. I have heard father tell how one of his neighbors
tried to break a field by beginning on the outside, and plowing farther
in as the land dried up. But the snakes and frogs grew thicker and
thicker, as he neared the center. At length the grass seemed almost
alive with snakes, and his big ox-team became wild with fright, and ran
away, and he could not get them back there again.

Of course, such a country was unhealthful, and father's family was much
troubled with sickness. His parents both died; my mother was nearly worn
out with the ague; and he not only suffered from poor general health,
but from a sore throat, and had to quit preaching. He moved to Sullivan,
but without any permanent benefit to his health. He did not at that time
attribute his sore throat entirely to the climate, but thought it a
chronic derangement that would utterly unfit him for a preacher. Many
years afterward he wrote of that disappointment as follows: "For five
years I saw myself sitting idly by the wayside, hopeless and
discouraged. I felt somewhat like a traveler, parched with thirst, on a
wide and weary desert, who sees the mirage of green trees and springs of
cool water that has mocked his vision, slowly fade away out of his
sight. So seemed to perish my castles in the air. At that time making
proclamation of the ancient gospel was too vigorous a work, and too full
of hardship and exposure to be undertaken by any except those possessing
stalwart good health. If I had been predestinated to the life I have
actually lived, and if it were necessary that I should be chastened to
bear with patience all its disabilities, then, I suppose, this
discipline I actually got might be considered good and useful. If I have
been able to bear provocation with patience, and to labor cheerfully
without wages, and at every personal sacrifice, this lesson was learned
when I saw all my hope dashed in pieces."

In the spring of 1850 father sold his property and decided to go to
Iowa. Shortly before the time of starting, my little sister and baby
brother took the scarlet fever and, ere long, they were both laid in the
old graveyard. Heart-broken as my parents were, they did not give up the
long, lonely journey. Father bought a farm in Iowa, and built a log
house on it, intending to become a farmer. He and mother united with the
nearest church, at Long Grove, sixteen miles distant. Father did not
tell them at first that he had been a preacher, but they questioned him
and learned the facts. As his health improved he occasionally preached
for them.

Eld. N. A. McConnell gives the following account of his preaching in
Iowa:

"I first met him at his temporary home in Posten's Grove, in the fall of
1850. During that winter he taught a school in Dewitt, Clinton Co., and
preached occasionally at Long Grove. The next spring he attended a
co-operation meeting at Walnut Grove, Jones Co., at which he was
employed to labor with me in what was called District No. 2. His
district included the counties of Scott, Clinton, Jackson, Jones, Cedar,
Johnson, a part of Muscatine, Linn and Benton, and west to the Missouri
river. He preached at LeClaire, Long Grove, Allen's Grove, Simpson's,
Big Rock, Green's School-house, Walnut Grove, Marion, Dry Creek,
Pleasant Grove, Burlison's, Maquoketa and Posten's Grove, as well as at
numerous school-houses scattered over a large district of the country.
He did excellent work in preaching the word. He was not a revivalist,
nor was his co-laborer, yet there were a goodly number added to the Lord
during the year. I think not less than one hundred. The next year, 1852,
the annual meeting of the co-operation was held at Dewitt, Clinton Co.
At that meeting the district was divided into East and West No. 2. Your
father was assigned to the eastern division and I took the western. His
field included Davenport, Long Grove and Allen's Grove, in Scott Co.;
Maquoketa and Burlison's in Jackson Co., and Dewitt in Clinton Co. He
labored also in Cedar Co., and did a grand work, not so much in the
numbers added as in the sowing the good seed of the Kingdom, and
recommending our plea to the more intelligent and better informed of the
various communities where he labored. You will remember that he held in
mind nearly the entire New Testament, so that he could quote it most
accurately. I think he had also the clearest and most minute details of
the Old Testament history, of any man I ever knew. Nor was his reading
and recollection limited to Bible details; for he was very familiar With
other history, both sacred and profane.

"I call to mind two sermons that he delivered. One was based on the
language of Christ addressed to the Woman of Samaria, at Jacob's
well--John iv.: 'Ye worship ye know not what. We know what we worship;
for salvation is of the Jews.' In this sermon he detailed the history of
Israel to the revolt under Jereboam, the history of Jereboam and his
successors until the overthrow of the ten tribes, and the formation of
the mongrel nation called Samaritans. In this he showed that God's
promise--Ex. xx., 'In all places where I record my name, I will meet
with you and bless you,' was fully realized by the people of God, and
that a disregard of the law in harmony with this promise was followed by
most disastrous results. And that the same is true under the
Gospel--where his name is recorded, and only there, he now meets and
blesses his people.

"The second sermon was on the subject of Justification by faith.' This
was doubtless one of the very best efforts of his life. I will not
trouble you with the details of this grand effort, since it was
published in full in the _Evangelist_ in 1852. The sermon was
published, not by his request, but by the unanimous voice of the State
Meeting held in Davenport that year.

"I am sorry that I can not give more of the details of his grand work in
Iowa."

The winter of 1851-2 was very cold, but father did not stop for bad
weather. I remember that when he started to his appointment one cold
morning mother cried for fear he would freeze to death. The mail-carrier
did freeze to death that day, but father kept from freezing by walking.
The next summer was very rainy, and mother was always anxious when there
were high waters, for there were no bridges, and father always swam his
horse across streams, although he could not swim a stroke.

Then he preached for several years in Illinois, and was gone for months
at a time.

In July, 1854, my little sister--for by that time I had another brother
and sister--after a brief illness, closed her eyes in death. Fortunately
father was at home, to mingle his tears with mother's, over the little
coffin.

The next spring father sold his Iowa farm.

Before leaving there an incident occurred that I distinctly remember.
The Iowa Legislature had passed some kind of temperance law, and the
people were to vote on it at the spring election. Our country lyceum
formed itself into a mock court, and tried King Alcohol for various
crimes and misdemeanors. Father was appointed prosecuting attorney, and
he went at it in earnest, as he always did at anything he undertook.
He sent for every man in the vicinity who ever drank, or who had good
opportunities to observe the effect of drink on others, to appear as
a witness against King Alcohol. The trial lasted three evenings, with
Increasing crowds. Father's adroitness in drawing facts from
witnesses--often against their will--kept the Audience laughing and
applauding. I remember hearing people say that he had mistaken his
calling; that he ought to have been a lawyer. On the last evening, When
he addressed the jury, he became eloquent. He pictured the terrible
effects of intemperance, the ruined homes, the weeping wives, the ragged
children. He denounced King Alcohol as guilty of every known crime--of
stealing the bread from the mouths of children, of robbing helpless
women of everything they valued most, of brutally shedding the blood of
thousands, and of filling the whole earth with violence, until the cries
of widows and orphans reached to high heaven. When he finished, the
house rang with applause. The attorney for the defense tried to reply,
but the boys said Mr. Butler had spoiled his speech. The jury brought in
a verdict of guilty. The election came off soon afterwards, and people
said that it was strongly influenced, in that township, by father's
speech.

The next May, mother, my little brother, and I, went to my uncle
Gorham's, near Canton, Illinois; while father went to Kansas to buy
land, intending, however, to live several years at Mt. Sterling,
Illinois, before moving to Kansas.

MRS. ROSETTA B. HASTINGS.




PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS

CHAPTER I.

I came to Kansas in the spring of 1855, having been preaching in that
part of Illinois known as the Military Tract, during the three preceding
years; but my residence was in Cedar County, Iowa, one hundred and fifty
miles from my field of labor, and twenty-six miles to the northwest of
the city of Davenport. I had been employed for one year in Iowa as a
co-laborer with Bro. N. A. McConnell; but the church at Davenport, which
was the strongest and richest church in the Cooperation, determined to
sustain a settled pastor, and this left the churches too poor to support
two preachers, and I was left to find another field of labor.

When I first came to Cedar County I came simply as a farmer; and there
were but nine families in the township in which we settled. But when the
country came to be settled up the result was not favorable to the
expectation that we should have prosperous churches in that region.
Those who have watched the progress of the temperance reform in Iowa
have noticed that, while the prohibitory law is enforced almost
throughout the State, there are yet exceptions in the cities of
Davenport and Muscatine and the adjacent counties. Here the law is set
at defiance. This is owing to the presence of a German,
lager-beer-drinking, law-defying population, Godless and Christless,
and that turn the Lord's day into a holiday. This tendency had begun
to be apparent before I left Iowa.

When it became manifest that I could not any longer find a field of
labor in Southeastern Iowa, I was recommended to the churches in the
counties of Schuyler and Brown, in the Military Tract, Illinois.

My first introduction among them was dramatic, if, indeed, we could give
to an incident almost frivolous and laughable, the dignity of a dramatic
incident; and yet the matter had a serious side to it. I had been
commended by Bro. Bates, editor of the _Iowa Christian Evangelist_, to
the church at Rushville, where I held a meeting of days. The meetings
grew in interest, there were some important additions, and the church
was greatly revived. Twelve miles from Rushville was the town of Ripley,
a small village, where the people were engaged in the business of
manufacturing pottery ware. Here two Second Adventist preachers, a Mr.
Chapman and his wife, were holding forth. This Mr. Chapman was a devout,
pious, and earnest man, and a good exhorter, and had an unfaltering
faith that the Lord was immediately to appear. But his wife was the
smartest one in the family. She was fluent and voluble. She had an
unabashed forehead and a bitter and defiant tongue. It was her hobby to
declaim against the popular idea of the existence of the human spirit
apart from the body. With her this was equivalent to a witch riding on a
broomstick or going to heaven on a moonbeam. Spirit is breath--so she
dogmatically affirmed--and when a man breathes out his last breath his
spirit leaves his body. But it was her especial delight to declaim
against the Pagan notion of the immortality of the soul, and to affirm
that the Bible says nothing of the immortality of the soul. A Bro.
McPherson undertook to contest the matter with her, but, not finding the
scripture he was looking for, she exclaimed with bitter and vixenish
speech, "Ah! You can't find it! You can't find it! It isn't there! I
told you so!" And thus this couple were fast demoralizing the church,
Billy Greenwell, the richest man in the church, being wholly carried
away with this fanaticism. John Brown lived half way between Ripley and
Rushville, but was a member of the church at Rushville. Bro. Brown was a
man of good sense, excellent character, and had been a member of the
Legislature. He attended our meeting at Rushville, and, in the intervals
of the meeting, was full of questions concerning this heresy that had
been sprung on them at Ripley.

Our meeting at Rushville came to a close. It had been a good meeting;
the church had been revived, and there had been important additions. I
took dinner with Bro. Brown, and in the afternoon we rode toward Ripley.
On crossing the ferry at Crooked Creek, "Old Rob Burton," the ferryman,
a tall, stalwart Kentuckian, looking down on me, asked, "Are you the
man that's goin' to preach at Ripley to-night?"

"Yes."

"Wall, don't you know thar's a woman thar that's goin' to skin you?"

"Well, I don't know. We shall see how it will be?"

At Rushville I had done my best, and now, being withdrawn from the
excitement of the meeting, felt exhausted; and determined not to touch
any debatable question that night. The house was crowded with eager and
expectant listeners. My fame had gone before me, and the "woman
preacher" was present, ready for a fight. But, alas! My sermon was a
bucket of cold water poured on the heads of my brethren. At any other
time it would have been accepted as a good and edifying exhortation; but
now, how untimely! The meeting was dismissed and the buzzing was as if a
hive of bees had just been ready to swarm. The woman's disciples were
jubilant; and, above the din and hurly-burly, I heard a thin, squeaking
voice say, "Give that woman a Bible, and she would say more in five
minutes than that man has said in his whole dis-c-o-u-rse." This was
Billy Greenwell.

Brother Brown said nothing that night; but the next morning he said to
me:

"Bro. B., the people were disappointed with you last night."

"Why, Bro. B., was it not a good sermon?"

"Yes; but it was not what the people expected."

"Bro. B., did the people expect me, uninvited, to pitch into a quarrel
with which I have nothing whatever to do?"

"Oh, is that it? Well, wait a little and you shall have an invitation."

Bro. Brown went out, and soon returned with a request that I should
discuss the question that Mr. Chapman and his wife had been debating. I
sat down and wrote out a statement of the subjects on which I proposed
to speak in all the evenings of the coming week. The first commanded
universal attention: "Does the spirit die when the body dies?" They had
never thought of that. They had been thunderstruck when this woman told
them that the Bible says nothing about the immortality of the soul, but
beyond this they had never gone. There was probably more Bible reading
that day in Ripley than any day before or since.

At night the house was jammed, and "the woman" was there, Bible in hand.
I began: "The Bible speaks of a man as composed of body, soul and
spirit. The body is that material tabernacle in which a man dwells, and
which Paul hoped to put off that he might be clothed with a house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens. The soul is that animal life we
have in common with all living and material things. Thus Jesus is said
to have poured out his soul unto death. But what of the spirit? God is
spirit, and God can not die. The angels are spirits, and the angels can
not die; Jesus says so. Man has a spirit, and can man's spirit die? But
spirit sometimes means breath. Yes, and heaven sometimes means the
firmament above our heads, where the birds fly. But does it never mean
more than this? Paradise sometimes means the happy garden where Adam and
Eve dwelt; but does it never mean more than that? So, granting that
spirit sometimes means breath, may it not also mean more than that?

"When Jesus said, 'Into thy hands I commend my spirit,' did he mean,
'Into thy hands I commend my breath'? So, when the disciples saw Jesus
walking on the water and cried out, 'It is a spirit,' did Jesus say to
them, 'This is an old wives' fable; there is no such thing as a spirit'?
Did he not rather say to them,--'It is I; be not afraid.' So, also, when
he appeared to them in a room, the doors being shut, and they cried out,
'It is a spirit,' he said to them, 'Handle me and see; for a spirit
hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.' In all this Jesus
encouraged the disciples to hold the idea which was then popular among
the Jews, that the spirit may exist apart from the body, and after the
body is dead."

I thus discoursed to them for one hour in development of the Bible
teachings concerning human spirits; and in my turn ridiculed the persons
that had ridiculed the ideas that had evidently been held by Jesus and
the apostles.

Mrs. Chapman had always invited objections; but she was sure to make an
endless talk over them. I said, "We will not have an endless
confabulation to-night; but I will quote one passage of Scripture, and
on that I will rest my case. Any other person may then quote one passage
of Scripture and on that rest the case. I have preached one sermon; the
other party has preached twenty. So far we will count ourselves even,
and it only remains that I should quote my Scripture, and let the other
party quote the one Scripture on the opposite side, and then we will be
dismissed." I gave the views of the Pharisees and of the Sadducees as
detailed by Josephus, and then quoted Luke in the Acts of Apostles: "The
Sadducees say there is no resurrection, neither angel nor spirit; but
the Pharisees confess both." And Paul says, "Men and brethren, I am a
Pharisee, the son of a Pharisee." So I also say, I am a Pharisee, the
son of a Pharisee, and hold to the existence of human and angelic
spirits.

When I announced that I should call for objections, I saw Mrs. Chapman
take up her Bible in a flutter and nervously turn over its leaves. When
I sat down all eyes were turned on her, and there was a death-like
stillness in the house. Then she rose up, and in a moment was out of the
house. She left the town the next morning and never came back. Then it
was "Old Bob Burton's" turn to speak. He said to Billy Green, "Your
chest is locked, and the key is lost in the bottom of the sea."

The brethren were gratified that the power of this "soul-sleeping"
delusion was broken. Billy Green never recovered from his infatuation.
He afterwards built a house that, in the number of rooms it contained,
was wholly beyond his necessities. But he thought that when the Lord
should come, and he should own all the land that joined him, and should
have children to his heart's desire, then he would need all the room.



CHAPTER II.

From Ripley I went to Mt. Sterling, the county-seat of Brown County.
This church had fallen into decay for want of the care of a competent
evangelist. Here I remained some weeks; and the church was very much
revived, and there was a large ingathering. This was originally the home
of Bro. Archie Glenn, now conspicuous in building up the University at
Wichita. From the first Bro. Glenn, though modest and unobtrusive, was
known as a solid and helpful member of the church. He always had the
confidence of the people of Brown County, and was by them elected to
various public offices, at last becoming Lieutenant-Governor of the
State. But his business not prospering to suit him, he removed to
Wichita, which was at that time a straggling village of uncertain
fortunes, situated on a river of doubtful reputation, and located in a
country concerning which the public were debating whether it should be
called "The Great American Desert," or a decent place, where civilized
men could live and thrive.

But Bro. Glenn did not lose faith in the Lord nor in his country. He
went to his new home to be a live man. Wichita has decided to be a city,
and not a straggling village of doubtful and cow-boy reputation; the
Arkansas River has agreed to behave itself and to co-operate with human
hands in giving fertility to its valley, and the geographers have
unanimously agreed to strike the "Great American Desert" from the map of
the United States. Sister Shields has grown up since these old days to
be a woman, then a widow, and now a true yoke-fellow with her father in
these great undertakings.

Bro. Lewis Brockman was pointed out to me, when first I came to Mt.
Sterling, as a disaffected member; but, on a better acquaintance, it
became apparent that his disaffection was that the church members had
made a solemn vow to keep the ordinances of the Lord's house, and did
not do it. When better order was obtained, he was once more in harmony
with the church; came to Atchison County, Kansas, and died, a pattern of
fidelity to his conscience and to every known duty.

During the period of three years in which I remained preaching in the
Military Tract, I visited almost all its churches. The number of
disciples was large. They had a large amount of wealth at their
disposal, and were not averse to using it to promote the advancement of
the cause. But the children of this world are, in their generation,
wiser than the children of light, and there is a certain practical
wisdom that has been abundantly learned by other religious communities
that has only come to our churches through a sore and bitter experience;
and it was through the fire of this experience they were passing at the
time of which we write. "Billy Brown" had been a notable evangelist
among them. Indeed, he had been the father in the gospel of the churches
in Brown and Schuyler Counties. He was popularly described as having a
head "as big as a half bushel," surmounted by a great shock of hair. He
was an iconoclast, and devoted his life to the business of
image-breaking, and, of course, the breaking in pieces of the idols of
the people created a great tumult. There was this difference, and only
this difference, between the work of Billy Brown and Sam Jones; Sam
Jones declaims against sins already condemned by the popular conscience,
but Billy Brown assailed convictions enshrined in the innermost
sanctuary of the hearts of the people. He did so because these popular
superstitions stood in the way of the acceptance by the people of the
apostolic gospel. Of course, the work of such a man carried with it an
inconceivable excitement. At Mt. Sterling a man in the audience made
some objection.

"What is your name?" said Billy Brown.

"My name, sir, is Trotter."

"Well, come forward, and I will knock your _trotters_ out from under
you."

But Billy himself sometimes found his match. At Ripley he had been
preaching after his accustomed style, and riding away from the place of
meeting--it was in the spring of the year when the mud was deep--he saw
an old man painfully and with difficulty making his way through the mud.
Knowing that he was a preacher from his white cravat, his broad-brimmed
hat and single-breasted coat, he said to him:

"Well, old Daddy, how did you like the preaching?"

"Haven't heard any," stiffly replied the old gentleman.

But when the tumult and excitement of this conflict had passed away, and
his converts were brought face to face with the grave duties of a
religious life, and with the serious work of keeping the ordinances of
the Lord's house, they did not know how; they had been born in a
whirlwind and could only live in a tempest. Notwithstanding, they loved
the Lord's cause, and they trembled for themselves and their children,
if they should not be found faithful.

If these churches are not able at the present time to exhibit a growth
adequate to their opportunities, it must be remembered, on their behalf,
that they have sent to the West an incredibly large number of disciples
to serve as the nuclei for other churches throughout that mighty empire
that within the past thirty years has grown up between the Missouri
River and the Pacific Ocean.

The days I spent in these churches are the golden days of my life. There
has been no field in which my labor as an evangelist has yielded a
richer harvest; none in which there have been bestowed on me more
flattering or more kindly attentions. It was the bright and joyous
sunshine of a spring morning, before the bursting of the storm.

Though each year increased my attachment to the people, and apparently
added their good-will to myself, there had been coming to the front a
difficulty that could not any longer be thrust aside or disregarded. I
was one hundred and fifty miles away from home, and from my wife and
children. On holding a council of war to consider our future tactics, in
which Mrs. Butler, was commander-in-chief, and myself, second in
command, she said to me, "Pardee, I am willing to go wherever you say,
only when we go there we must go to stay. We must not put our house on
wheels. We must not leave our children without settled employment,
exposed to all the hazards of a city life, or a life without a permanent
habitation."

Under such circumstances the settling on a home in reference to which it
could be said, "Here we are to stay," was not an easy matter. The
people of the Military Tract were, almost all of them, Kentuckians.
There were evidently impending storms in the political horizon. I could
not bend my sails to suit every favoring gale; and if, in the future,
there should come a time that my conscience should lie in one direction,
and my popularity and pecuniary interest in the other, I did not like to
invite such a temptation. At any rate, I did not like to place myself in
such a position that to bring down on my head popular odium would be to
invite pecuniary ruin. These counties in the Military Tract were old
settled counties, and land was high; and I was not rich. At this time
the Kansas-Nebraska bill had been adopted by Congress, and Kansas had
been opened for settlement. It was certain that Eastern Kansas, in the
matter of fertility of soil, and all the elements of agricultural
wealth, would be a desirable location.

"But there might be a political and social conflict." Yes, and there
might be a political and social conflict in Illinois; or, for the matter
of that, it might cover the West as with a blanket. It was certain that
Eastern Kansas would be early settled from Missouri; and in no State was
there a larger percentage of the people known as Disciples. I would,
therefore, be among my brethren; and, if I had kept the peace for three
years with Kentuckians in Illinois, could I not do the same thing with
Missourians in Kansas? In any case, there was a fair prospect of gaining
in Kansas a position of pecuniary independence; and any man can see that
such a position was worth all the world to Alexander Campbell, when he
was constrained by his conscience to bring down on his own head the
utmost wrath of his Baptist brethren.

I started in the spring of 1855 to ride on horseback through Missouri;
but was soon made to feel that there were more things in this world than
were known in my philosophy. I had determined to remain over Sunday in
Linnville, Linn County, Missouri, the county-seat of the county, as here
was a congregation of Disciples; and called on a merchant of the place,
who had been mentioned as one of the leading members. He remarked that
he had become acquainted with me through the _Christian Evangelist_,
published by Bro. Bates, in Iowa; but, on learning my destination,
seemed strangely oblivious that anything more should be due from him to
me. And so, having waited patiently about for a goodly time, I mounted
my horse and rode on till dark; then seeing a light, and having called
at the house, I found an old man who kindly received and lodged me. In
the morning it appeared that his house was surrounded by negro cabins.
Having inquired my destination, he began to talk to me concerning the
subject that seemed to be in every man's heart. I replied, submitting to
him such views as were held by a majority of Northern men. To my
surprise he flared up in anger, and said:

"If you talk that way when you get to Kansas you will never come back
again; they will hang you."

The thing was so absurd I only laughed in the old man's face,
and said to him:

"Well, you can not teach an old dog new tricks. I have spoken my mind so
long that I shall continue to do it if they do hang me," and so bade him
good-bye.

It was Sunday morning, and it was eighteen miles to Chillicothe.
Arriving at the hotel, the people were getting ready for meeting. On
questioning them where they were going, the landlord replied:

"To the Christian Church. Will you not go along with us?"

On asking my name he said:

"O yes; I have seen your name in the _Christian Evangelist._ You have
been preaching in Illinois. I will introduce you to our preacher, and we
will make an appointment for you this afternoon."

This landlord was a brother to that Congressman Graves that shot Cilley,
a member of Congress from Maine, in a duel with rifles, at Washington.
The people described "mine host" as one of "fighting stock "; and spoke
of him as being as thoughtful of the comfort, health and welfare of his
slaves as of his own children. To me he seemed simply a genial, jovial,
friendly and traditional "Boniface," chiefly intent on furnishing
comfortable fare and an enjoyable place for his guest.

By the members of the Christian Church I was kindly received, and was
invited to take dinner with the preacher. After dinner two brethren came
in, to whom I had been introduced at the meeting-house. After some
desultory talk, they asked me:

"_Are you an abolitionist_?"

I was both angry and confounded. I had never in my life made myself
conspicuous in this controversy that was going on between North and
South, and why should I be insulted with such a question. I did not
answer yes or no, but proceeded to give my views on the subject in
general. They listened and remarked that they did not see anything
offensive in such views; then made this apology for their seeming
rudeness: An old man, a preacher, whom they called Father Clark, had
come from Pennsylvania to Chillicothe to live with a married daughter,
and had said something concerning slavery offensive to the people, and
they had called a meeting of the citizens, and he had been driven out of
town and ordered never to return. They had, furthermore, resolved that
no abolitionist should thereafter be allowed to preach in the city.
These brethren explained that, as I would be called on and interrogated
by a committee, they thought it would be better that this should be done
by friends, than that I should be questioned by strangers.

"_Are You an Abolitionist_?"

I was angry with myself for having consented to preach a sermon after
being met with such a question. But by mine host, Bro. Graves, I was
treated with the most frank and manly courtesy, albeit that he was
brother to the man that shot a brother congressman in a duel with
rifles. He seemed to feel like the town clerk at Ephesus: "What man is
there that knoweth not that the city of the Ephesians is a worshiper of
the great goddess Diana, and of the image that fell down from Jupiter?
Seeing then that these things can not be spoken against, ye ought to be
quiet and do nothing rashly."

The Hannibal & St. Joseph Railroad was just being located through the
city, yet the town was a dead town, though it was surrounded by a
fertile and prosperous country. Bro. Graves seemed awake to all its
advantages, and pressed me to remain, pointing out the rapid advance
that must take place in the value of its property. But I kept thinking
of the question: "Are you an abolitionist?" and bade him farewell.

At nightfall I found myself beyond Gallatin, on the road to St. Joseph.
As there were no hotels I called at a private house and was hospitably
received. This man, on whom I had called, had come from the State of
Pennsylvania, and had grown to a prosperous farmer. There seemed to be
no books or newspapers about the house; but he was shrewd and sagacious
to a proverb, and was eager to hear from the land of his fathers, and of
what was the cause of all this din and clamor and excitement of the
people about him. What was the meaning of the Kansas-Nebraska bill? What
were the intentions of the Black Republicans? What was the _New York
Tribune_ doing, that it should raise such a tumult? And what were the
purposes of the Emigrant Aid Society that it should be such an offense
to the people in Missouri?

On my own part, I also had much to learn from this man, so shrewd and
well-informed, and yet so ignorant. What did it mean that citizens of
Missouri should go over in force and vote in the Territory of Kansas? We
had heard something of this in Illinois, but supposed it was something
done by that turbulent and somewhat lawless element that gathers along
the borders of civilization; but now it was apparent that this movement
was under control of leading citizens of Missouri, and had been
participated in by conscientious men, members of the various churches of
Missouri, who would in no wise knowingly do anything wrong. What did it
mean?

The reader will not be surprised that we should sit up to a late hour of
the night, nor that we should renew the subject again in the morning.
When I had got ready to leave this man, who had so hospitably
entertained me, he explained that he had business on the road on which I
was traveling, and that he would accompany me a number of miles.

This emigrant from Pennsylvania, now a citizen of Missouri, who carried
his library in his brain and read his books when he conversed with men,
and kept his own counsel and lived in peace with his neighbors, was now
about to say farewell. With some hesitation he said: "Mr. Butler, I
thank you for all you have told me. I feel just as you do; but I must
advise you to be careful how you talk to other men as you have talked to
me. There are many in this country that would shoot such a man as you
are. Good-bye."



CHAPTER III.

It is said, "There are two sides to every question." In my association
with men in the free States I had learned one side of this question; now
I was learning the other side, and began to be able to put in
intelligible shape to myself those reasonings by which these men
justified their action. They reasoned thus: "War is a state of violence
and always involves a trenching upon what we call natural rights; and
its decisions depend not so much on who is right or wrong, as on who
wields the longest sword and commands the heaviest battalions. And if in
carrying on a war some evil comes to innocent parties, this is only one
of its necessary consequences, and is justified by the final result;
provided always that the war, as a whole, is right and just. And in such
a strained and unnatural condition of affairs men can not be governed by
the same scrupulous regard for others' rights by which they are governed
in time of peace. But the North and South are already practically in a
state of war. This comes of the mistakes made at the formation of our
government. Thomas Jefferson and the fathers of the Revolution were
mistaken in holding slavery wrong. It is a rightful and natural
relation, as between an inferior and superior race. The black race is
far better off here in America, in slavery, than they would be in
Africa, in freedom and in paganism; and if there is something of
hardship in their lot, it is only because there is hardship in the lot
of every human being."

These men also said: "Consequent on these erroneous views held by Thomas
Jefferson and others, the settlement made as between the North and South
has been wrong, from the beginning, It was wrong to close the Northwest
Territory, embracing Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin, against
slavery. So also it was wrong to close Kansas against this institution
by what was called the Missouri Compromise Line, agreed upon on the
admission of Missouri into the Union."

So these men reasoned, and they said: "Now we propose to go and take by
the strong hand those rights of which we have been wrongfully deprived
since the beginning of the American Government. A little severity now--a
resolute seizing on our rights now, in this golden opportunity--will be
worth more than the shedding of rivers of blood by and by. Therefore the
primary and rudimental legislation of this infant Territory will be
worth everything to us in the final settlement of this question. It is
certain that the law is against us; but the law itself is wrong, and has
been wrong from the beginning. The right that belongs to us is the
material and inalienable right of revolution."

We have no right to assume that a majority of the people of Missouri
held the sentiments we have here indicated: probably they did not. But
the dissent was generally unspoken. The men of this stamp commonly
adopted the policy of the man with whom I had just parted. But there was
dissent in some cases, bitter and vehement, followed sometimes by
bloodshed.

Before I had gone to Iowa, and while I yet lived in Ohio, I had visited
Kentucky. An Ohio colony had gone down into Kentucky and located in the
counties of Wayne and Pulaski, on the Cumberland River. A brother of
mine had gone with them, and I had made him a visit. I thought then, and
think now, that there is no region on which the sun shines, more
desirable to live in than the region of the Cumberland Mountains. At
Crab Orchard I found a man that was born in the State of New York. He
had been a soldier at Hull's surrender, at Detroit, in the war of 1812,
with Great Britain. From Detroit he had made his way into Kentucky, had
married a rich wife with many slaves, and had become a vehement partisan
for slavery. But because he was born in the same State with myself, and
because I could tell him much about that people that were once his
people, he was glad to have me stop with him. Being old and choleric, he
would go off into a fierce passion against the abolitionists. He would
say: "These men are thieves! Our niggers are our property, and they
steal our property. They might as well steal our horses." After awhile
he would begin to talk about his children. He would say: "These niggers
are ruining my children! My girls are good for nothing! They can not
help themselves! They are so helpless they can not even pick up a
needle. And my boys! These niggers are ruining my boys! My boys won't
work!" And then he would _go_ on to tell the nameless vices the young
men of the city were drawn into through their intimacy with the blacks.
I thought, but did not say, "My dear sir, if slavery is working such a
ruin on your own children, would not the abolitionists be doing you a
kindness if they would steal every nigger you have got?"

But there was a still graver aspect that this question was beginning to
assume: A woman that is a slave has neither the motive nor the power to
protect her own virtue; and the land was threatened to be filled with a
nation of mulattoes. But this mixed race would possess all the pride,
ambition and talent of the superior race; at the same time they would
feel all that undying hatred that a subject people feel toward the men
by whom they are subjugated. We would then be sleeping on a volcano,
such as may at any hour engulf the empire of Russia.

All this I pondered in my heart as I slowly made my way toward St.
Joseph, on the Missouri River, which flows along the western border of
Kansas. And now this question was coming to the front and forcing a
settlement, and in Kansas would be the first real conflict. In Congress
they had only paltried with, it; now the people were to try their hand.
And what should I do? Had I any right as a Christian and as an American
citizen, when providentially called to this work, to withdraw myself
from aiding in its settlement? And should I turn my horse in the
opposite direction, go back to my Bro. Graves at Chillicothe, and say to
him: "You are a man of undoubted courage, but I am a paltroon and a
coward, and I am going to hunt a hole and hide myself, where I will be
out of danger when this battle is fought between freedom and slavery."

I did not turn back, but revolving all these matters in my mind, reached
the city of St. Joseph. Here I had been commended by a friend to a
merchant in the city, a member of the Christian Church. He received me
kindly and treated me courteously, but his partner in business did not
seem to be of that mind. He was all out of sorts, and gruffly said,
"Kansas is a humbug. It will not be settled in thirty years."

In revolutions men live fast. I had been ten days on my journey, and the
man that now crossed the Missouri River at St. Joseph was not just the
man that ten days before crossed the Mississippi at Quincy. He was a
wiser and a sadder man.

On the Kansas side the first company I met was a two-horse wagon load of
men that had been exploring the Territory and were returning. They
seemed thoroughly disgusted, and said: "The wind blows so hard in
Kansas, it would blow a chicken up against the side of a barn and hold
it there for twenty-four hours."

"Kansas will not be settled in thirty years." So said my not very
amiable friend in St. Joseph. It is now somewhat more than thirty years,
and Kansas has more than a million of inhabitants. But the State has a
higher boast to make than that it has so increased in wealth and
population. It has been the first State in the Union--indeed, it has
been the first government in the world--to incorporate prohibition into
its fundamental law; and this is the best possible criticism by which to
mark its comparative progress in a Christian civilization.



CHAPTER IV.

After crossing the Missouri River I visited some of the principal
settlements in the Territory, such as Atchison, Leaven worth, Lawrence
and Topeka. Lawrence, Topeka and Manhattan were settlements made by men
from free States, and with an eye single to making Kansas a free State.
There was no town located on the Missouri River, and no settlement made
in the counties bordering on the Missouri River, that were properly free
State settlements. I thought this was a mistake. These counties had by
far the largest population, and as these counties would go, the
Territory would go; and I thought that no considerations of personal
danger ought to hinder, that these counties should have respectable
settlements of avowed Free State men among them.

What is now the city of Atchison was then a small village that was being
built among--the cottonwood trees on the banks of the Missouri River,
about twenty miles below St. Joseph, and the same distance above Fort
Leavenworth. It had been named after the notable David R. Atchison, who
had been a Senator from Missouri, and acting Vice-President of the
United States. D. R. Atchison and Gen. B. F. Stringfellow had at this
time won a national notoriety in this struggle now going on in Kansas;
and both were leading members in the Atchison town company. Dr.
Stringfellow was deputed to act as editor-in-chief of the _Squatter
Sovereign_, a paper at that time started in Atchison; but the editor was
Robert S. Kelly. Bob Kelly, as he was popularly called, was a born
leader among such a population as at that time filled Western Missouri.
The towns along the Missouri River were the outfitting points for that
immense overland freighting business, that was at that time carried on
across the western plains, to Santa Fe in Mexico and to Salt Lake,
Oregon and California; and here congregated a multitude of that wild,
lawless, law-defying and law-breaking mob of men, that accompanied these
expeditions, and were the habitues of these western plains, or were
among the gold seekers of California.

Bob Kelly was left an orphan at an early age, and was from his youth
surrounded with such a population. In person he was handsome as an
Apollo, broad-shouldered and muscular, with fair complexion and blue
eyes, and was the natural chief of the dangerous men that were drawn to
him by his personal magnetism. Moreover, he possessed so much native
eloquence, and such an ability to make passionate appeals, as made him a
fit person to fire the hearts of these men to deeds of violence,

I obtained a claim to 160 acres of land, twelve miles from Atchison, and
on the banks of the Stranger Creek. This claim I would be at liberty to
buy, at government price, if I should continue to live on it until it
should come into market. My nearest neighbor was Caleb May, a Disciple,
and a squatter, from the other side of the river. Bro. May was in his
way as much a character as Bob Kelly. He gloried, like John Randolph, of
Roanoke, in being descended from. Pocahontas, and that he therefore had
Indian blood in his veins. Born and reared on the frontier, tall,
muscular, and raw-boned, an utter stranger to fear, a dead shot with
pistol or rifle, cool and self-possessed in danger, he had become known
far and near as a desperate and dangerous man when meddled with. But he
had been converted, and had become a member of the Christian Church, and
according to the light that was in him he did his best to conform his
life to the maxims of the New Testament, and conscientiously sought to
confine all exhibition of "physical force" to such occasions as those in
which he might be compelled to defend himself. Then it was not likely to
be a healthy business for his antagonist.

After securing my claim, and commencing to build a cabin, I began to
look around me. Fully three-fourths of the squatters of this whole
region were from the border counties of Missouri. But in Western
Missouri the percentage of Disciples was perhaps larger than in any
other portion of the United States, consequently I had brethren on every
side of me. These men certainly were not refined and educated men, as
the phrase goes, still they had the qualities that our Lord found in the
fisherman of Galilee.

One thought was in every man's heart, and on every man's tongue. The
name _Squatter Sovereign,_ that had been given to the Atchison
newspaper, indicated the trend of public opinion. They had been
flattered with the idea that if they would come to Kansas they should be
"Squatter Sovereigns," that the domestic institutions of the infant
Territory should be determined not by the nation, nor by Congress, but
by themselves. And yet, when the election day came, every election
precinct in the Territory, except one, was taken possession of by bodies
of men from Missouri, and the elections had been carried, not by _bona
side_ citizens, but by an outside invasion. With pain and shame, and
bitter resentment, my neighbors told me how they had driven their wagons
to the place of voting, on the prairie, and hitched their horses to
their wagons, and were quietly going about their business, when with a
great whoop and hurrah, which frightened their horses and made them
break loose from their wagons, a company of men came in sight, and with
swagger and bluster, took possession of the polls, and proceeded to do
the voting. Meantime whisky flowed like water, and the men, far gone in
liquor, turned the place into a bedlam. In utter humiliation and disgust
many of the squatters went home. Caleb May did not get into the
neighborhood till afternoon. Before he got to the place of voting, he
met Joseph Potter, and on hearing what was done he threw his hat on the
ground, and in a towering rage protested he would no longer vote with a
party that would treat the people of the Territory in such a way as
that. This was done in March, but so far as any public expression of
sentiment was concerned, the people seemed dumb. No public meeting was
called in the way of protest till the next September, and that meeting
was held at Big Springs, sixty miles from Atchison.

But if there was no public protest, there was plenty of it in private.
The men from the State of Missouri grew sick at heart. It was a deep,
unspoken, bitter and shame-faced feeling, for it was their old neighbors
that had done this.

I often asked myself, Can it be hoped that an election can be held that
shall fairly express the real sentiment of the people, if they allow
themselves to be held down under such a reign of terror?

The prevalent sentiment of the squatters from Missouri was, "We will
make Kansas a free white State; we will admit no negroes into it." These
men regarded the negro as an enemy to themselves. They said: "We were
born to the lowly lot of toil, and the negro has made labor a disgrace.
Neither ourselves nor our children have had opportunity for education,
and the negro is the cause of it. Moreover, an aristocracy at the South
has assumed control of public affairs, and the negro is the cause of
that. Now we propose to make Kansas a free white State, and shut out the
negro, who has been the cause of all our calamities."

There was, however, a class of men among them that had pity for the
negro. I will repeat one story, as it was told me by Bro. Silas Kirkham.
Bro. Kirkham belongs to that family of Kirkhams so well known to our
brethren in Southeastern Iowa. Bro. Kirkham was raised in a slave State.
He said: "When I was a boy I had never thought of slavery as being
wrong. There was a black boy in the settlement named Jim. Jim was so
good-natured, faithful and well-behaved that we all liked him. Jim
married a black girl and they had twins--boys--bright, likely little
fellows, and Jim's wife and twin babies were all the treasure he had in
the world."

Bro. Kirkham said: "One day I found Jim in the woods, where he had been
sent to split rails. He was sitting down with his face buried in his
hands, apparently asleep. I thought I would crawl slyly up to him, and
spring suddenly on him, and frighten him. I did so, but Jim was not
asleep at all, but lifted up his head with such a look of unutterable
woe that I was frightened myself, and said: 'Why, Jim, what is the
matter?' Jim cried out: 'O, my boys! my boys! Massa sold my boys!'"

Bro. Kirkham said: "_I_ have vowed everlasting enmity to an institution
that will legalize such treatment of a human being."

But while these ominous mutterings were heard in so many of the Kansas
squatter cabins, little did the high and mighty Atchison Town Company,
or the editorial staff of the _Squatter Sovereign_, or the puissant
Territorial Legislature, reck that so soon they must take up the sad
refrain of Cardinal Woolsey:

    Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
    This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
    The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
    And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;
    The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
    And--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
    His greatness is a-ripening--nips his root;
    And then he falls, as I do.

The following extract, from an editorial that appeared at this time in
the _Squatter Sovereign_, will show what a rose-colored view these
gentlemen took of the situation:

SLAVERY IN KANSAS.

We receive letters, by nearly every mail, asking our
opinion as regards the security of slave property in
Kansas Territory. We can truly say that no Territory in
Uncle Sam's dominion can be found where the slave' can be
made more secure, or his work command a higher price. Our
slave population is gradually increasing by the arrival of
emigrants and settlers from the slave States, who, having
an eye to making a fortune, have wisely concluded to
secure a farm in Kansas, and stock it well with valuable
slaves. Situated as Missouri is, being surrounded by free
States, we would advise the removal of negroes from the
frontier counties to Kansas, where they will be
comparatively safe. Abolitionists too well know the
character of the Kansas squatter to attempt to carry out
the nefarious schemes of the underground railroad
companies.



CHAPTER V.

Immediately on obtaining my claim, brethren had sought me out and made
my acquaintance, and soon it appeared that there were enough Disciples
in the settlement to constitute a church. But the times were stormy, and
we delayed making any movement in that direction. It had now come to be
the month of June. There had been refreshing showers. The singing birds
had come, and the bright sunshine. The prairie had put on its royal
robes, the forest its richest garments, and the people had become
impatient with their long isolation from religious meetings. The Lord's
day was almost ceasing to be the Lord's day to them, and they demanded a
sermon. We, therefore, came together in the timbered bottoms of Caleb
May's claim, on the banks of the Stranger Creek. The gathering was
primitive and peculiar, like the gathering at a Western
camp-meeting--footmen, and men and women on horseback, and whole
families in two-horse lumber wagons. Some were dressed in
Kentucky-jeans, and some in broadcloth; there were smooth-shaven men and
bearded men; there were hats and bonnets of every form and fashion; all
were dressed in such ways as best suited their convenience or
necessities. In this crowd were those that, as the years should go by,
were destined to grow in wealth, in understanding, in popularity and
high position, and they should be known as the first in the land.

The singing was not in the highest style of the musical art, but it
was hearty and sincere.

Looking up at the thick branches of the spreading elms above our heads
I said:

MY FRIENDS AND FELLOW CITIZENS:--I have never seen trees
clothed with leaves of so rich a green as the trees above
our heads, I have never seen prairies robed in richer
verdure than the prairies around us.

Since the year of 1832, it has been known that what is
called the "Platte Purchase," in Missouri, is the garden
spot of the West; and now it is apparent that we have here
on the west side of the Missouri River what is the exact
counterpart of the Platte Purchase on the east side. It is
the same in genial suns, refreshing rains, and unequalled
fertility of soil. It is, moreover, true that, owing to
the peculiar circumstances under which this Territory will
be settled we shall have a population inferior to no
population on the face of the earth.

After the deluge was past, God promised enlargement to the
sons of Japheth. "God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall
dwell in the tents of Shem;" and more than 3,000 years the
sons of Japheth have been fulfilling their destiny. They
came originally from the mountain regions around Mount
Ararat, and moving westward, they have filled all Europe;
and these tribes coming from the east have created the
modern European nations. The last and westernmost
settlement was made on the island of Great Britain, and
here they were stopped from further progress by the
Atlantic Ocean; and here, after many generations of war,
they coalesced and mingled their blood together, and thus
became the British nation; and thus out of the commingling
of the blood of the most enterprising races that came out
of the loins of Japheth has grown that nation, that in all
lands has vindicated its right to be known as the foremost
nation of the world.

Christopher Columbus discovered America, and now new
causes began to operate that called for the planting of
new colonies here in America. Martin Luther asserted the
right of a man to stand immediately in the presence of the
Lord, to be answerable directly to the Lord, and to
confess his sins to the Lord alone, and from the Lord to
receive pardon, without the intervention of any pope,
priest, or ghostly mediator. This was counted by the
Catholic Church a horrible blasphemy, and the Diet of
Worms was called, and Luther was commanded to appear
before it and recant. Presiding over this Diet was Charles
V., Emperor of Germany; here were Electors, Princes and
crowned heads, popish priests, bishops and cardinals,
together with the principal nobility of Catholic
Europe--these all came together to compel the recantation
of Friar Martin Luther. But Luther said; "Unless I be
convinced by Scripture and reason, I neither can nor dare
retract anything for my conscience is a captive to God's
Word, and it is neither safe nor right to go against
conscience," and a great multitude of men in Germany,
France, Switzerland, and Great Britain stood beside Luther
and protested that they were amenable to the Lord alone,
and that they could do nothing against conscience. But
these Protestant governments stopped midway between popery
and Protestantism; for each of these nations, while
renouncing the Pope of Rome, assumed that it was the
business of the king to instruct the people what to
believe; and so instead of having one pope they had many
popes, consequently many Protestant sects; and these took
the place of that one apostolic church originally
established by the apostles. Notwithstanding, there were
some, in all lands that remained steadfast to the
principle enunciated by Martin Luther: "Unless I be
convinced by Scripture and reason, I neither can nor dare
retract"; and so it came to pass that there were
Protestant persecutions as well as Catholic persecutions;
and so also it came to pass that men became wearied with
this intolerance, and determined to seek beyond the
Atlantic Ocean a place where they could worship God
according to the dictates of their own consciences, with
none to molest them or make them afraid. It was for such
cause that the Puritans settled in New England, the
Quakers in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the Scotch and
Irish Presbyterians in North Carolina; and it was for this
cause that the French Huguenots, driven out of France by
the French king, came to South Carolina. The most notable
cause that induced the planting of the thirteen original
colonies here in North America was religious persecution
in the Old World. And as the oak grows out of the acorn,
so out of these colonies has grown this nation of which we
are so proud.

Great Britain became more Lutheran than Germany, the
native land of Luther, and God lifted the British nation
up to become the chiefest nation of the world; the United
States of North America became more Lutheran than Great
Britain, and the eyes of the world are fixed on us in
admiration and astonishment. God blessed the house of
Obededom, and all that he had, because the ark of God was
in it.

But there are spots on the sun, and there are exceeding
blemishes in our Protestantism, notwithstanding the fact
that the glory of the American people has grown out of it.
The image that Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream had feet
and toes, part of iron and part of potter's clay, partly
strong and partly broken. So it is with our Protestant
sectarianism, and because of it we are partly strong and
partly broken. Compare the Protestant United States with
Catholic Mexico, or compare Protestant Great Britain with
Catholic Spain, and compared with these nations we have
the strength of iron, but judged by our sectarianism we
have the weakness of miry clay.

My friends and fellow citizens, I have the honor to
represent to you a people that have said we will go back
to that order of things originally established by Jesus
and the apostles--we will make no vow of loyalty to any
but Jesus, and we will have no bond of union save the
testimonies and commandments of the Lord as given to us by
the Lord himself and the holy apostles. Out of this we
hope may grow such a union of God's people as Jesus prayed
for when he prayed that all Christians might be one. We
are striving for such an order of things that Protestants
may present a united front against the world, the flesh
and the devil, and against all disloyalty to Jesus.

To this appeal men often make reply: "We can not break
loose from our religious surroundings, dear to us through
life-long and most tender associations." But, my friends,
this objection can have no weight with this audience,
assembled here on this glorious Lord's day, and on this
our first religious meeting. Here we have already broken
loose from these associations. These ties, how dear so
ever to us, we have already sundered. The people with whom
we once met, and with whom we once took sweet counsel, the
churches in which we once worshiped, shall know us no more
forever. Here we are free to act, and to correct the
mistakes that have been unwittingly made by the churches
with which we have formerly been connected, just as our
American fathers were free to frame a better government
than the government of the nations out of which they came.

May I not appeal to you, my friends, and say you owe it to
yourselves, you owe it to Christians in every land, you
owe it to your Lord, you owe it to the future State of
Kansas, to so act as to free the Christian profession from
the trammels that have hindered its progress and glory
ever since the days when our divisions began. If
Protestantism seas done so much in spite of all its
divisions, what will it not do if these hindrances are
taken out of the way?

Kansas is certainly predestinated to be a great State. The
fertility of its soil, the healthfulness of its
atmosphere, and the fact that its population is to be made
up from the bravest, most daring and most enterprising men
in the nation, all look in this direction; you ought,
then, my friends, to see to it that as far as your
influence may go its religion shall be nothing less than
primitive and apostolic Christianity.

In ascertaining what is primitive and apostolic
Christianity, we shall pay supreme respect to the time
when the old or Jewish dispensation came to an end, and
when the new or Christian dispensation began. The first,
or Jewish dispensation, Jesus took out of the way, nailing
it to the cross. The second, or Christian dispensation,
began after Jesus arose from the dead and ascended up on
high, far above the thrones, dominions, principalities and
powers of the world of light, and became the Head over all
things to the church. This was the proposition with which
Peter closed his sermon on the day of Pentecost:
"Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly,
that God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have
crucified, both Lord and Christ." To this agree the words
of Jesus after his resurrection, as recorded in the close
of Matthew's gospel: "All authority is given to me in
heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and disciple all
nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father, and
of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

Luke records some things which Matthew does not record:
"Thus it is written, and thus it behooved the Messiah to
suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day: and that
repentance and remission of sins might be preached in his
name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem; and ye are
witnesses of these things." But Mark records some things
that neither Matthew nor Luke have recorded: "Go ye into
all the, world and preach the gospel to every creature. He
that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that
believeth not shall be damned." In carrying out this
commission, thus recorded by these three evangelists, if
we find an ignorant pagan that knows nothing of Jesus we
shall say to him, as Paul said to the Philippian jailer,
ignorant pagan that he was: "Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ and thou shalt be saved and thy house."

But if we find men who already believe, as did the three
thousand who were pierced in the heart on the day of
Pentecost, we shall say to them, as Peter did: "Repent and
be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ
for remission of sins, and you shall receive the gift of
the Holy Spirit." If, however, we find a man that not only
believes, but is a penitent believer, such as Saul of
Tarsus was when Ananias found him, we shall say, as
Ananias said: "And now why tarriest thou? Arise and be
baptized, and wash away thy sins, calling on the name of
the Lord."

In all this there is nothing human, nothing schismatical.
All can accept it who are willing to accept the Word of
the Lord. In the baptism we administer, we will give no
cause for schism: it shall be a burial, and this, so far
as the action of baptism is concerned, will meet the
conscience of the Greek Church, the Roman Catholic Church,
and of all Protestant churches.

Do not, my friends, attempt to turn aside this appeal
which I now make to you with a laugh or a sneer. This is
the Lord's word, and the word of the Lord is not to be put
aside with a sneer. Do not scoff at this as a water of
salvation. You certainly will not scoff at the word of the
Lord.

And now, my friends, will you not demean yourselves worthy
of the high place that God has given you? Adam and Eve
carried in their hands the weal or woe of the unnumbered
millions of their children that should come after them.
Abraham, because of his great faith and because of his
high integrity, sent down a blessing upon his fleshly seed
for fifty generations; and for the same cause was
constituted the spiritual father of a spiritual seed as
numerous as the stars of heaven or as the sand upon the
seashore. A few Galileean fishermen have filled the world
with the glory of the Lord. Luther drove back the darkness
of the dark ages and has filled the world with the light
of God's Word. And now, my friends, you are laying the
foundations of many generations, and will you not take
heed how these foundations are laid? Can you repent if you
take God at his word and do as did the apostles and the
primitive Christians?



CHAPTER VI.

That sermon was preached almost thirty-three years ago. It was an
extemporaneous discourse, and no notes were preserved. Nevertheless,
there were circumstances attending its delivery, that have indelibly
impressed its leading points on the memory of the writer.

S. J. H. Snyder was a Lutheran from Pennsylvania, and at that time was a
resident of Atchison county. He had traveled to see the world, and was a
writer of books. He heard the sermon, and was greatly taken with it. He
wrote out a report of it, and handed his report to me for criticism and
correction. He intended to send it for publication to a paper in
Pennsylvania. I said to him that his report left out the most essential
and vital part of the sermon, and proposed myself to write out an
abstract of it for his use. This I did, but my friend Mr. Snyder
concluded: "This is a hard saying, who can hear it?" He was not willing
to be counted unsound in the faith by his brethren in Pennsylvania, and
forwarded the original manuscript.

There were also in the audience two young gentlemen, recently come from
the New England States to seek their fortune. They were just of that age
to think that what they did not know, or at least what the people of New
England did not know, was not worth knowing. Such a meeting in the open
air; such an audience, in which the dress of every man and woman was got
up according to their own notions, and that, too, without consulting
Mrs. Grundy; _such a preacher! and such a sermon_! Certainly these all
were new to them, and did not command their highest admiration. These
young gentlemen kept up a sort of running commentary between themselves,
on what they saw going on, until, becoming tired of their misbehavior, I
turned and said to them in effect: "Young gentlemen, you profess to be
men of good breeding, and it is understood that well-bred people will
behave themselves in meeting." They were very angry, and one of them
wrote me a saucy letter about it. But finding little sympathy in the
settlement, they went to Atchison, and there they found abundant
sympathy and open ears to hear. A man who was a preacher, and a
pronounced free State man, had come from Illinois and had settled on the
Stranger Creek; and who could tell the mischief he might do to his
brethren who were squatters from Missouri? When these same New England
gentlemen were in their turn stripped of all they were worth by the
"Border Ruffians" it changed their feelings toward their free State
brethren "mightily."

And now that feeling of dissatisfaction that had been all along
festering in the hearts of the people, began to come to the surface. An
inside view would have revealed a perpetual murmur of discontent. The
Territorial Legislature was now in session, and doing its work, and
copies of the laws they had enacted were coming into circulation. No
legislature in America had ever been elected as they had been, and we
have already learned what a thrill of horror and pain this caused in
the hearts of the squatters. It would have been a dictate of the most
obvious common sense that a body of men whose claim to be a Territorial
Legislature rested on such a basis should proceed with the utmost
moderation. But they were intoxicated with success. It is an old and a
wise saw, that whom the gods wish to destroy they first deprive of their
reason, and these men were smitten with judicial blindness. No slave
State had ever enacted such savage and bloody laws--laws of such
barbarous and inhuman severity, for the protection of slave property.
And now the people were reading copies of these laws, and nothing could
long suppress the evidences of discontent. The following editorial is
also copied from the _Squatter Sovereign_:

WATCH THE ABOLITIONISTS.

Circumstances have transpired within a few weeks past, in
this neighborhood, which place beyond a doubt the
existence of an organized band of Abolitionists in our
midst. We counsel our friends who have slave property to
keep a sharp lookout, lest their valuable slaves may be
induced to commit acts which might, jeopardize their
lives.

Mr. Grafton Thomasson lost a valuable negro a week ago,
and we have not the least doubt that she was persuaded by
one of this lawless gang to destroy herself rather than
remain in slavery. In fact, one of this gang was heard to
remark that she did perfectly right in drowning herself,
and just what he would have done, or what every negro who
is held in bondage should do. We ask, Shall a man
expressing such sentiments be permitted to reside in our
midst? Be permitted to run at large among our slaves,
sowing the seeds of discord and discontent, jeopardizing
our lives and property?

In another instance we hear of a servant being tampered
with, and induced to believe that she was illegally held
in bondage; since which time she has been unruly, and
shows evidence of discontent. Such is the effect produced
by permitting the _convicts_ and _criminals_ of the
Eastern cities shipped out here by the aid societies to
reside in our midst.

The depredations of this fanatical sect do not stop here.
Their crimes are more numerous and their acts more bold.
It is well known that on Independence and Walnut Creeks,
within a few miles of this place, a great number of free
slaves and Abolitionists are settled whose thieving
propensities are well known. We honestly believe that an
organized band of these outlaws exists, whose objects are
pecuniary gain and spite, to rob us of our property, drive
off our cattle and horses, incite our slaves to rebellion,
and, when opportunity afford them facilities for escaping,
to aid them.

Within a short time about one hundred and fifty head of
cattle have been stolen from this neighborhood, driven
off, and sold. Eight or nine horses and several mules have
been taken out of the emigrants' camp, driven to parts
unknown, and the money is now jingling in the pockets of
the Abolitionists. Occurrences of this kind were never
before known in this neighborhood, and prior to the
shipment of the _filth_ and _scum_ of the Eastern cities
our property was secure and our slaves were contented and
happy.

The enormity of these offenses, and the great loss of
property, should open the eyes of our citizens to their
true situation. We can not feel safe while the air of
Kansas is polluted with the breath of a single
Free-soiler. We are not safe, and self-preservation
requires the total extermination of this set. Let us act
immediately, and with such decision as will convince these
desperadoes that it is our fixed determination to keep
their feet from polluting the soil of Kansas.


We published in a former chapter the letter of recommendation this
same Robert S. Kelley had written, certifying to the good behavior of
the people of the county, and the facts of the case were not altered
now; save and only this, that a black woman, the slave of Grafton
Thomasson, had drowned herself. This said Thomasson was a drinking
man, and when in drink was desperate and dangerous. What passed
between this man, when intoxicated, and this slave woman the public
have never been informed. An altercation grew out of this between
Thomasson and J. W. B. Kelly, Esq., a young lawyer from Cincinnati, in
which Thomasson, a great big bully, flogged Kelly, who was a small
man, of slender build, and weak in body. A public meeting was called,
in which resolutions were adopted praising this big bully for flogging
this weak and helpless man; and then this Kelly was ordered to leave,
and was not seen in Kansas afterwards. Beyond this, if there was any
of this high-handed stealing and robbery we never heard anything of it
afterwards.

During the month of July, an event occurred destined to have lasting
influence on the Christian cause in Northeastern Kansas. A church was
organized at Mt. Pleasant. It is now known as the Round Prairie Church.
This church, after passing through varied fortunes, has finally issued
in being one of the best and most active churches in Kansas. The last
act in his public ministry was the organizing of this church by Elder
Duke Young, father of Judge William Young. Duke Young was one of the
pioneer preachers of Western Missouri. When in his manhood's prime he
was abundant in labors, and though he was without any scholastic
attainments he had a keen mother wit, good sense, and good natural gifts
as a public speaker; and, working in poverty, exposure, hardship,
misrepresentation, and implacable opposition, he was one of the men
that laid the foundations of the cause in Western Missouri. Becoming
old, he came with his son, William Young, to Kansas, and after
organizing the church at Mt. Pleasant, he failed in health, and ceased
his work in the ministry.

Connected with this church was Numeris Humber. Bro. Humber and his wife
were among the excellent of the earth. Sister Humber was a matronly
woman, comely in person, greatly beloved, and a queen of song. When D.
S. Burnett afterwards held a protracted meeting at this place, it was
the songs of Sister Humber and Stephen Sales, as much as the preaching
of D. S. Burnett, that made the meeting a wonderful success, and one
long to be remembered. Bro. Humber and Bro. Young were slave-holders.
Bro. Humber was also an emancipationist in his views of slave-holding,
and often said that if a position could be secured suitable for
emancipated slaves he would gladly set his slaves free. When at last
they were made free by the results of the war, and went to Leavenworth
to live, it was always a burden on Bro. Humber's heart to watch over
them, and try and save them from the temptations that were laid for
their feet in that wicked city.

It will be readily seen that no scandal would be created in Atchison by
organizing a church at Mt. Pleasant with such men to take the lead in
it.



CHAPTER VII.

It was now the middle of August. My cabin was completed, and I was ready
to go back and bring Mrs. Butler and the children to Kansas. Bro.
Elliott accompanied me to Atchison, where I intended to take a steamboat
to St. Louis, thence going up the Illinois River to Fulton county,
Illinois, where Mrs. Butler had been stopping with her sister.

The things that had been happening in the Territory had been so strange
and unheard of, and the threats of the _Squatter Sovereign_ had been so
savage and barbarous, that I wanted to carry back to my friends in
Illinois some evidence of what was going on. I went, therefore, with
Bro. Elliott to the _Squatter Sovereign_ printing office to purchase
extra copies of that paper. I was waited on by Robert S. Kelley. After
paying for my papers I said to him: "I should have become a subscriber
to your paper some time ago only there is one thing I do not like about
it." Mr. Kelley did not know me, and asked: "What is it?"

I replied: "I do not like the spirit of violence that characterizes
it."

He said: "I consider all Free-soilers rogues, and they are to be treated
as such."

I looked him for a moment steadily in the face, and then said to him:
"Well, sir, I am a Free-soiler; and I intend to vote for Kansas to be a
free State."

He fiercely replied: "You will not be allowed to vote."

When Bro. Elliott and myself had left the house, and were in the open
air, he clutched me nervously by the arm and said: "Bro. Butler! Bro.
Butler! You must not do such things; they will kill you!"

I replied: "If they do I can not help it."

Bro. E. was now to go home. But before going he besought me with earnest
entreaty not to bring down on my own head the vengeance of these men. I
thanked him for his regard for me, and we bade each other good-by.

Bro. E. had come to feel that my life was precious to the Christian
brethren in Atchison county. Except myself they had no preacher, and
they needed a preacher.

The steamboat bound for St. Louis that day had been detained, and would
not arrive until the next day. I must, therefore, stay over night in
Atchison. I conversed freely with the people that afternoon, and said to
them: "Under the Kansas-Nebraska bill, we that are free State men have
as good a right to come to Kansas as you have; and we have as good a
right to speak our sentiments as you have."

A public meeting was called that night to consider my case, but I did
not know it. The steamboat was expected about noon the next day. I had
been sitting writing letters at the head of the stairs, in the chamber
of the boarding-house where I had slept, and heard some one call my
name, and rose up to go down stairs; but was met by six men, bristling
with revolvers and bowie-knives, who came up stairs and into my room.
The leader was Robert S. Kelley. They presented me a string of
resolutions, denouncing free State men in unmeasured terms, and demanded
that I should sign them. I felt my heart flutter, and knew if I should
undertake to speak my voice would tremble, and determined to gain time.
Sitting down I pretended to read the resolutions--they were familiar to
me, having been already printed in the _Squatter Sovereign_--and finally
I began to read them aloud. But these men were impatient, and said: "We
just want to know will you sign these resolutions?" I had taken my seat
by a window, and looking out and down into the street, had seen a great
crowd assembled, and determined to get among them. Whatever should be
done-would better be done in the presence of witnesses. I said not a
word, but going to the head of the stairs, where was my writing-stand
and pen and ink, I laid the paper down and quickly walked down stairs
and into the street. Here they caught me by the wrists, from behind, and
demanded, "Will you sign?" I answered, "_No_," with emphasis. I had got
my voice by that time. They dragged me down to the Missouri River,
cursing me, and telling me they were going to drown me. But when we had
got to the river they seemed to have got to the end of their programme,
and there we stood. Then some little boys, anxious to see the fun go on,
told me to get on a large cotton-wood stump close by and defend myself.
I told the little fellows I did not know what I was accused of yet. This
broke the silence, and the men that had me in charge asked:

"Did the Emigrant Aid Society send you here?"

"No; I have no connection with the Emigrant Aid Society."

"Well, what did you come for?"

"I came because I had a mind to come. What did you come for?"

"Did you come to make Kansas a free State?"

"No, not primarily; but I shall vote to make Kansas a free State."

"Are you a correspondent of the _New York Tribune_?"

"No; I have not written a line to the _Tribune_ since I came to Kansas."

By this time a great crowd had gathered around, and each man took his
turn in cross-questioning me, while I replied, as best I could, to this
storm of questions, accusations and invectives. We went over the whole
ground. We debated every issue that had been debated in Congress. They
alleged the joint ownership the South had with the North in the common
Territories of the nation; that slaves are property, and that they had a
natural and inalienable right to take their property into any part of
the national Territory, _and there to protect it by the strong right arm
of power_, while I urged the terms of the Kansas-Nebraska bill, and
that under it free State men have a right to come into the Territory,
and by their votes to make it a free State, if their votes will make it
so.

At length an old man came near to me, and dropping his voice to a
half-whisper, said in a confidential tone: "N-e-ow, Mr. Butler, I want
to advise you as a friend, and for your own good, _when you get away,
just keep away._"

I knew this man was a Yankee, for I am a Yankee myself. His name was Ira
Norris. He had been given an office in Platte county, Mo., and must
needs be a partisan for the peculiar institution. I gave my friend
Norris to understand that I would try to attend to my own business.

Others sought to persuade me to promise to leave the country and not
come back. Then when no good result seemed to come from our talk, I said
to them: "Gentlemen, there is no use in keeping up this debate any
longer; if I live anywhere, I shall live in Kansas. Now do your duty as
you understand it, and I will do mine as I understand it. I ask no
favors of you."

Then the leaders of this business went away by themselves and held a
consultation. Of course I did not know what passed among them, but Dr.
Stringfellow afterwards made the following statement to a gentleman who
was getting up a history of Kansas:

A vote was taken upon the mode of punishment which ought to be accorded
to him, and to this day it is probably known but to few persons that a
decided verdict of death by hanging was rendered; and furthermore, that
Mr. Kelley, the teller, by making false returns to the excited mob,
saved Mr. Butler's life. Mr. Kelley is now a resident of Montana, and
volunteered this information several years ago, while stopping at St.
Joe with the former senior editor of the _Squatter Sovereign_, Dr. J. H.
Stringfellow. At the time the pro-slavery party decided to send Mr.
Butler down the Missouri River on a raft, Dr. Stringfellow was absent as
a member of the Territorial Legislature.

The crowd had now to be pacified and won over to an arrangement that
should give me a chance for my life. A Mr. Peebles, a dentist from
Lexington, Mo., who was working at the business of dentistry in
Atchison, and himself a slave-holder, was put forward to do this work.
He said: "My friends, we must not hang this man; he is not an
Abolitionist, he is what they call a Free-soiler. The Abolitionists
steal our niggers, but the Free-soilers do not do this. They intend to
make Kansas a free State by legal methods. But in the outcome of the
business, there is not the value of a picayune of difference between a
Free-soiler and an Abolitionist; for if the Free-soilers succeed in
making Kansas a free State, and thus surround Missouri with a cordon of
free States, our slaves in Missouri will not be worth a dime apiece.
Still we must not hang this man; and I propose that we make a raft and
send him down the river as an example."

And so to him they all agreed. Then the question came up, What kind of
a raft shall it be? [1] Some said, "One log"; but the crowd decided it
should be two logs fastened together. When the raft was completed I
was ordered to take my place on it, after they had painted the letter
R. on my forehead with black paint. This letter stood for _Rogue_. I
had in my pocket a purse of gold, which I proffered to a merchant of
the place, an upright business man, with the request that he would
send it to my wife; but he declined to take it. He afterwards
explained to me that he himself was afraid of the mob. They took a
skiff and towed the raft out into the middle of the Missouri River. As
we swung away from the bank, I rose up and said: "Gentlemen, if I am
drowned I forgive you; but I have this to say to you: If you are not
ashamed of your part in this transaction, I am not ashamed of mine.
Good-by."

Floating down the river, alone and helpless, I had opportunity to look
about me. I had noticed that they had put up a flag on my raft, but
had paid no attention to it; now I looked at it and it charged me with
stealing negroes; and it was thought by many to be no sin to shoot a
"nigger thief." Down that flag must come; and then I remembered that
they had said they would follow me down the river and shoot me if I
did pull it down. The picture on the flag was that of a white man
riding at full gallop, on horseback, with a negro behind him. The flag
bore this inscription: "GREELEY TO THE RESCUE: I HAVE A NIGGER. THE
REV. MR. BUTLER, AGENT FOR THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD."

This flag I pulled down, cut off the flag with my pen-knife, and made
a paddle of the flag staff, which was a small sapling which they had
cut out of the brush, and was forked at the upper end. Between these
forks they had carefully sewed this flag with twine, and this part of
the canvas I left and made it serve as the blade of my paddle; and so
in due time I paddled to the Kansas shore. The river was rapid, and
there were in the river heaps of drift-wood, called "rack-heaps,"
dangerous places into which the water rushed with great violence; but
from these I was mercifully saved, and though I could not swim, I
landed a few miles below Atchison without harm or accident, and made
my way to Port William, a small town about twelve miles down the
river.

[Illustration: The flag placed on Pardee Butler's raft.]



CHAPTER VIII.

At Port William I had already become acquainted with a Bro. Hartman. He
had leased a saw-mill, and was running it, and I had bought lumber of
him. Having reached Port William, I went to Bro. H. and said, "I want to
obtain lodging of you to-night; but as I do not want to betray any man
into trouble, I must first tell you what has befallen me." I then told
him my mishap at Atchison, and said: "Now if you do not want to lodge
such a man, please say so, and I will go somewhere else." He replied:
"You shall lodge with me if it cost me every cent I am worth." He then
went on to say that he had leased that mill of men who were very bitter,
and very ultra in their views, and that they might be angry with him,
and turn him out of the mill. But at last he said: "There is Bro.
Oliphant living in the bluffs; he is under no such embarrassment," and
Bro. Hartman took me there. The next day was the Lord's day, and Oliver
Steele was to preach the first sermon in that little village on that
day. Oliver Steele was a notable citizen of Platte county, Missouri. His
name appears in the early days of the _Millennial Harbinger_ as a
citizen of Madison county, Kentucky. Bro. Steele complains of the
Reformers of Kentucky, that they are too much wedded to Old Baptist
usages to be true to the primitive and apostolic order of things. Then
Bro. Steele came to Platte county, Missouri, and had become one of its
most wealthy and influential citizens. He was an eminent example of a
courtly and courteous "Old Virginia gentleman," and was loved by the
rich and loved by the poor, he was loved by white folks and black; loved
by the mothers and their babies; and the people patronized his
preaching, not because he was a great preacher, for he certainly was
not, but because they loved the man. He was an old Henry Clay Whig, and
like that great Kentucky statesman was an Emancipationist. Bro. S. was
to come over the river and preach the first sermon in this new town, and
it was a great event to the people. On returning to Port William in the
morning Bro. Hartman said that I must take dinner with him, and he would
introduce me to Bro. Steele. It was not until twenty-five years
afterwards, and only after Sister Hartman had died, that Bro. Hartman
told me what so much altered his feelings. She was a sweet Christian
woman, and when Bro. H. went to her she said to him: "Husband, don't you
know that in the last great day the Lord will say, 'I was a stranger and
ye took me in'; and don't you remember how the good Samaritan showed
mercy to the man that fell among thieves? Now we believe that this man
is an innocent man; and what will the Lord say to us if we turn him out
of doors?"

At dinner, at the house of Bro. Hartman, was also Dr. Oliphant, father
of the Bro. Oliphant with whom I had lodged. He was a brusque,
blunt-spoken, honest, anti-slavery Northern Methodist preacher. He said
bluntly at the table: "Well, Mr. Butler, they treated you rather roughly
at At-Atchison, did they not?" I said, "Yes--" attempted to say more,
broke down and left the table, and went out of the house. My heart was
not as hard here, among sympathizing friends, as it had been the day
before, when I had to face a raging mob. When I returned no mother could
be more tender seeking out the hurt of her boy bruised in a rough
encounter with his fellows, than was Oliver Steele. He would hear the
whole story, sighed over these "evil days," and listened with approval
to the vindication I made of the purposes of the free State men. How
many men that, through a sense of bitter wrong, are in danger to become
desperate, could be won to a better temper the world has never fully
tried.

The news of what had been done at Atchison flew like wild-fire through
the country. This proved the last feather that broke the camel's back.
It became apparent that the country was full of men that were ready to
fight. As for my friend Caleb May, he went into Atchison and said:
"_I am a free State man: now raft me_!" As no one seemed inclined to
undertake that job, he faithfully promised them that if there was any
more of that business done he would go over into Missouri and raise a
company of men and clean out the town.

Meantime my friends at Port William provided means to send me down to
Weston, there to take the steamboat Polar Star, bound for St. Louis.
"Boycotting" was a word unknown to the English language at that time;
and yet I was "boycotted" on board the steamboat. I heard nothing--not
a word; and yet I could feel it. I had hoped to be a total stranger, but
it was evident I was not, and the most comfort I could find was to keep
my state-room, and employ my time writ ing out the appeal I intended to
make to the people, through the _Missouri Democrat_, published in St.
Louis. At length my work was done, and yet we were only half way to St.
Louis. The reader will believe that my reflections were not cheerful.
What would become of myself? What would become of my wife and children?
What would become of Kansas, or of the United States?

At Jefferson City a man had come aboard of the boat who seemed almost as
much alone as myself. Still the captain and officers of the boat paid
him marked attention. One thing I noticed, he abounded in newspapers,
and I wanted something to read that should save me from my own
reflections. I ventured to ask him for the loan of some of his papers;
then when I returned them he went to his trunk and took out a book of
travels and gave it to me, saying: "Take that, please. It will amuse
you." At length we could see the smoke of the city of St. Louis, and I
gave back to this stranger the book he had loaned me. He said: "No,
thank you." I was startled, and said with some surprise: "I do not know
why you should do this to a stranger." He laughed and said: "You are not
so much a stranger as you think. Your name is Butler, is it not?"

"Yes."

"And they mobbed you at Atchison?"

"Yes."

"Well, please call on me at the office of the _Missouri Democrat."_

"And what is your name?"

"_They call me B. Gratz Brown_".

And so Providence had prepared the way for making my appeal to the
people. B. Gratz Brown had the preceding winter, at Jefferson City,
either given or accepted a challenge to fight a duel; but the public
authorities had interfered, and some business connected with this matter
had called him to Jefferson City. But whence had he his knowledge of
the mobbing at Atchison? The _Squatter Sovereign_ had been issued
immediately after they had put me on the raft, and had contained the
following editorial:

On Thursday last [it was Friday], one Pardee Butler arrived in town with
a view of starting for the East, probably with the purpose of getting a
fresh supply of Free-soilers from the penitentiaries and pestholes in
the Northern States. Finding it inconvenient to depart before the
morning, he took lodgings at the hotel and proceeded to visit numerous
portions of our town, everywhere avowing himself a Free-soiler, and
preaching Abolition heresies. He declared the recent action of our
citizens in regard to J. W. B. Kelley the infamous proceedings of a mob,
at the same time stating that many persons in Atchison who were
Free-soilers at heart had been intimidated thereby, and prevented from
avowing their true sentiments; but that he (Butler) would express his
views in defiance of the whole community.

On the ensuing morning our townsmen assembled _en masse_, and, deeming
the presence of such a person highly prejudicial to the safety of our
slave population, appointed a committee to wait on Mr. Butler and
request his signature to the resolutions passed at the late pro-slavery
meeting. After perusing the resolutions, Mr. B. positively declined
signing them, and was instantly arrested by the committee.

After various plans for his disposal had been considered, it was finally
decided to place him on a raft composed of two logs firmly lashed
together, that his baggage and a loaf of bread be given him, and having
attached a flag to his primitive bark, Mr. Butler was set adrift in the
great Missouri, with the letter "R" legibly painted on his forehead.

He was escorted some distance down the river by several of our citizens,
who, seeing him pass several rock-heaps in quite a skillful manner, bade
him adieu and returned to Atchison.

Such treatment may be expected by all scoundrels visiting our town for
the purpose of interfering with our time-honored institutions, and the
same punishment we will be happy to award to all Free-soilers and
Abolitionists.

The _Missouri Democrat_ was what was known as the "Tom Ben ton" paper of
Missouri, and was not ostensibly a _Free-soil_ paper, yet it vehemently
inveighed against the ruffianism with which free State men had been
treated. Of course there was sympathy in the office of the _Missouri
Democrat_, that made some amends for the rough treatment I had got at
the hands of citizens of Missouri.

Having completed my business in St. Louis I turned my face toward my old
field of labor in the "Military Tract," _via_ the Illinois River. The
reader will believe that my reflections were full of anxieties. What
would the brethren say of me? Were my prospects blighted from this time
forward?



CHAPTER IX.

The brethren in Illinois were at the first amazed at what they heard,
and did not know what to think or say. Before they could make up their
minds, the following editorial appeared in the _Schuyler County
Democrat_, published at Rushville:

ELDER PARDEE BUTLER,

The gentleman who was placed on a raft in the Missouri
River, with a proper uniform for a Northern fanatic, is in
Rushville. We saw handbills posted around town stating
that he would hold a meeting in the Christian Church. We
are informed he will deliver a series of lectures, in
which, _of course_, he will give vent to his indignation
toward the people of Kansas, Judge Douglas and the
Administration. We thought Schuyler county was the last
place which a _Northern fanatic_ would visit for sympathy.
We hope that those that go to hear his lectures, which
differ with him in their sentiments, will not interrupt
him or give him any pretext by which he could denounce our
citizens.


To the above notice of myself I made the following reply:

[For the Prairie Telegraph.]

MESSRS. EDITORS: _Sirs_--I find the above notice of myself
in the last issue of the _Schuyler Democrat_.

While in Kansas I diligently worked six days of the week,
and on Lord's day spoke to my neighbors, not in reference
to affairs in Kansas, but in reference to our common
interest in a better and heavenly country. I do not know
that I indicated my political proclivities, in any word or
allusion, on any such occasion, But I did, in private
conversations with my neighbors, avow my intention to vote
for Kansas to be a free State, and gave my reasons for so
doing. _This was my only offence._

What must you think of yourself, sir, in this notice you
take of this transaction? And you pretend to be a
conservator of public morals! If there is in town a
clergyman that will consent to teach you a few lessons
upon the items of justice and gentlemanly behavior, I
suggest it may be to your advantage to put yourself under
his tuition. You may perhaps learn that it is neither just
nor gentlemanly gratuitously to insult a man, because you
have _surmised_ that he will show some resentment at the
ruffianism of a Kansas mob, with which you seem to
sympathize.

Since I came into Illinois I have steadily declined to
make any statement of this affair in any public address.
Still it is perhaps due to the world to know some
additional facts. How the mob deliberated among themselves
. . .

I have never yet made war on Judge Douglas. It is true
that the Missouri Compromise, being a time-honored
covenant of peace between North and South, I would much
rather it had been suffered to remain; but now I am rather
indignant at the clear and palpable violation of the
principles of the Kansas-Nebraska bill, in the attempt
made by border ruffians to drive out peaceable citizens
from the free States. I am still more indignant that a
Northern editor can be found to wink at such flagrant and
unquestionable wrong. Judge Douglas may well exclaim,
"Save me from my friends!"

Perhaps, upon reflection, you may be convinced of three
things: First, that I am not a fanatic, and have not
deserved the treatment I have received; second, that your
friends may be trusted not to create any disturbance at my
meetings; and, third, that instead of seeking to stir up
against me the prejudices of ignorant partisans, you may
safely devote yourselves to the more honorable employment
of seeking to restore in our unhappy country the supremacy
of law. Very faithfully,

PARDEE BUTLER.
RUSHVILLE, Sept. 11, 1855.


The final result was much more favorable than could have been expected,
and the brethren gave me an invitation to remain with them through the
winter.

I tarried six weeks in Illinois, and then returned to Kansas with Mrs.
Butler and our two children, of whom the eldest is now Mrs. Rosetta B.
Hastings. Milo Carleton had already reached the Territory, direct from
the Western Reserve, Ohio. He was Mrs. Butler's brother, and it was
determined that the two families should spend the winter together, while
I should return to Illinois.

We will now pause in our personal narrative and tell what had been going
on the preceding summer in other parts of the Territory. A delegate
convention had been called by the free State men to meet during the
preceding September at a place called Big Springs, on the Santa Fe
trail, midway between Lawrence and Topeka. Here the free State men
agreed on a plan, to which they steadily adhered through all the
sickening horrors that gave to "bleeding" Kansas a world-wide and
thankless notoriety. They resolved that they would not in any way, shape
or manner, recognize the legality of this so-called Territorial
Legislature, nor the machinery it should call into being for the
government of the Territory. They would bring no suits in its courts;
they would attend no elections called by its authority; they would pay
no attention to its county organizations; and yet, as far as in them
lay, they would do no act that might make them liable to the penalty of
its laws. In short, they would be like the Quaker, who, when drafted
into the army, replies: "Thee-must not expect me to fight with carnal
weapons;" and when amerced in a fine for non-compliance with the laws,
makes the reply, "Thee must not expect me to pay money for such carnal
uses, but thee can take my property." Nevertheless, there was superadded
to these peaceful resolutions an un-Quaker-like intimation that under
certain contingencies they would fight.

Beyond the Wakarusa, and about eight miles from Lawrence, was a placed
called Hickory point. Here were some timber claims, and here resided
Jacob Branson, a peaceful and harmless free State man. Beside him lay a
vacant timber claim, and he invited a young man named Dow to take it,
Dow boarded with Branson. When the Missourians came into Kansas the
preceding March, many of them staked out a claim which they pretended to
hold. One William White, of Westport, Mo., pretended, in his way, to
hold this claim. There was not a particle of legality in his proceeding.
Notwithstanding, certain pro-slavery men, among whom were Coleman,
Hargis and Buckley, determined to drive off Branson and Dow. They sent
threatening letters to Branson, and cut timber on Dow's claim; and this
made bad blood. One day an altercation took place between Dow and the
above-named pro-slavery men at a blacksmith shop, and Coleman followed
Dow and shot him. Dow was unarmed, and held up his hands and cried,
"Don't shoot," but Coleman lodged a load of buckshot in his breast, and
he fell dead, and his body lay in the road till sundown. Then Branson
came and took up the body and buried it. This murder created a
prodigious sensation; and a public meeting was called, at which there
was violent and threatening talk by the free State men. The three
above-named pro-slavery men were all present when the murder was
committed. They fled, and their dwellings were burned. Coleman went to
Westport and gave himself up to "Sheriff Jones." This introduces us to
the man that was able to achieve an infamous pre-eminence among that
band of conspirators that put in motion a train of causes that issued in
the death of half a million of American citizens, and which covered the
land with mourning from Maine to Florida, and from the Atlantic to the
Pacific Ocean. This Jones is described by the free State men as a bully
and a braggart, as only brave when he was not in danger, and as one of
the most noisy and obstreperous of the pro-slavery leaders. Though
living in Westport, Mo., he was made sheriff of Douglas county, fifty
miles from his place of residence. Buckley swore out a peace warrant
against Branson--he swore that his life was in danger. Sheriff Jones
took with him these three men, who were parties in the murder of Dow,
and arrested Branson, dragging him out of his bed at night. He had also
associated with himself eleven other men. The news spread like wild-fire
among the free State men. This Jones was supposed to be capable of any
atrocity, however horrible, and a company of sixteen men was gathered up
for the rescue of Branson. Of this company Sam Wood, of Lawrence, was
the leader. They met Jones and his company at Blanton's Bridge, on the
Wakarusa River, where Jones was crossing to go to Lecompte, and called a
halt. Jones demanded: "What's up?"

Sam Wood replied: "That's what we want to know."

Wood asked: "Is Jacob Branson in this crowd?"

Branson replied: "Yes, I am here and a prisoner."

Wood replied: "Well, come out here among your friends."

Jones threatened with oaths and imprecations to shoot. The rescuing
party leveled their guns and said: "Well, we can shoot, too." Nobody was
hurt, no gun was fired, and Jacob Branson, coming out from among his
captors, walked away.

It will be seen that this was a clear and palpable violation of the plan
of procedure which the free State men had agreed upon among themselves,
and this act made Kansas for three years a dark and bloody ground, and
concentrated on this Territory the eyes of the whole nation. Of the
rescuing party only three were citizens of Lawrence. Sam Wood was in his
element. He was a man overflowing with patriotism, yet succeeded in
doing more harm to his friends than to his enemies. He possessed
unmistakable talent; he was a clown and a born actor, and as a public
speaker was sure to bring down the house; he was a pronounced free State
man; yet in this act he made himself the marplot of his party.



CHAPTER X.

Sheriff Jones went away, vowing that he would have revenge, and sent
the following dispatch to Gov. Shannon:

DOUGLAS CO., K. T., NOV. 27, 1855.

SIR:--Last night I, with a posse of ten men, arrested one
Jacob Branson, by virtue of a peace warrant regularly
issued, who, on our return, was rescued by a party of
_forty men_ who rushed upon us suddenly from behind a
house by the roadside, all armed to the teeth with
Sharpe's rifles.

You may consider an open rebellion as already having
commenced, and I call upon you for THREE THOUSAND MEN to
carry out the laws. Mr. Hargis, the bearer of this letter,
will give you more particularly the circumstances. Most
respectfully,

SAMUEL J. JONES,
Sheriff Douglas County.


To His EXCELLENCY, WILSON SHANNON, GOVERNOR KANSAS TERRITORY.

On receipt of the above dispatch, Gov. Shannon wrote to
Major-General William P. Richardson, reciting the story
told him by Sheriff Jones, together with additional
stories (equally false), told him by Hargis, and closed
his letter with the following order:

You are therefore hereby commanded to collect together as
large a force as you can in your division, and repair,
without delay, to Lecompton, and report to S. J. Jones,
Sheriff of Douglas County, together with the number of
your forces, and render him all the aid and assistance in
your power in the execution of any legal process in his
hands. The forces under your command are to be used for
the sole purpose of aiding the Sheriff in executing the
law, and for no other purpose.

I have the honor to be
Your obedient servant,

WILSON SHANNON.


Gov. Shannon knew, as well as he knew his name was Wilson Shannon, that
this meant another invasion of Kansas Territory. There was no organized
militia in Kansas. Gen. Richardson did not live in Kansas; he lived in
Missouri, and it meant Missouri militia and not Kansas militia.
Moreover, the Governor knew, or at least ought to have known, what an
unreliable man this Sheriff Jones was. Jones was Postmaster at Westport,
and Shannon was living at Shawnee Mission, in the neighborhood of
Westport. And yet, without one moment's inquiry, he placed the issues of
life and death of this infant Territory in the hands of this lying
scoundrel.

There was a rallying of the clans of the blue lodges of Missouri. The
following appeal, sent by Brig. Gen. Eastin, editor of the _Leavenworth
Herald_, and commander of the second brigade, Kansas militia, must serve
as a sample of the dispatches that were scattered broadcast through the
border Missouri counties:

"TO ARMS!  TO ARMS!"

It is expected that every lover of _law and order_ will
rally at Leavenworth on Saturday, December 1, 1855,
prepared to march at once to _the scene of rebellion_ to
put down the outlaws of Douglas county, who are committing
depredations upon persons and property, burning down houses
and declaring open hostility to the laws, and have forcibly
rescued a prisoner from the Sheriff. Come one, come all!
The outlaws are armed to the teeth, and number 1,000 men.
Everyman should bring his rifle and ammunition, and it
would be well to bring two or three days' provisions. Every
man to his post and do his duty. MANY CITIZENS.

In answer to the above appeal 1,500 men, mostly from Missouri, encamped
around Lawrence, under such notabilities as Maj. Gens. Strickler and
Richardson, Brig. _Gen_. Eastin, Col. Atchison, Col. Peter T. Abell,
Robert S. Kelley, Stringfellow and Sheriff Jones. They had broken into
the United States Arsenal at Liberty, Clay County, Mo., and stolen guns,
cutlasses and such munitions of war as they required.

But when this was known the free State men turned out from all the
settlements of Kansas with equal alacrity, to defend Lawrence. They came
singly, and in squads and in companies. They came by night and by day.
Sam Wood, Tappin and Smith, the rescuers of Branson, and who were
residents of Lawrence, left the city, and there were none there against
whom Sheriff Jones had any writs to execute. Dr. Robinson was appointed
Commander-in-Chief for the defense of the city, and James H. Lane was
appointed second in command. But Lane was the principal figure in the
enterprise. He alone had military experience, and he alone had the
daring, the genius and the personal magnetism of a real leader.

The free State men, for the last year, had been passing through the
furnace-fires of a vigorous discipline, and they would have fought as
the Tennessee and Kentucky backwoodsmen of Andrew Jackson fought behind
their cotton bales at the battle of New Orleans. They had seen their
rights wrested out of their hands by a mob of ruffians, and now they
were proposing to settle the matter in that court of last resort that is
the final and ultimate appeal of the nations. Except Gen. Lane, they had
small knowledge of military tactics, but they knew how to look along the
barrel of a rifle; moreover, they would fight behind breastworks, and
this to raw troops would have been an immense advantage.

It is probable that the first intimation that Gov. Shannon got of the
real state of affairs at Lawrence was conveyed to him in the following
letter, written by Brig. Gen. Eastin:

GOVERNOR SHANNON:--Information has been received direct
from Lawrence, which I consider reliable, that the outlaws
are well fortified with cannon and Sharpe' rifles, and
number at least 1,000 men. It will, therefore, be
difficult to dispossess them.

The militia in this portion of the State are entirely
unorganized, and mostly without arms. I suggest the
propriety of calling upon the military of Fort
Leavenworth. If you have the power to call out the
government troops, I think it would be best to do so at
once. It might overawe these outlaws and prevent
bloodshed.

S. J. EASTIN,
Brig. Gen. Northern Brigade, K. M.


Gen. Eastin is mistaken in putting their number at 1,000, but whether
many or few they certainly would have fought a hard battle. They were
picked men from all the Kansas settlements. Our old friend, Caleb May,
was there, as grim and as self-possessed as Andrew Jackson. So also Old
John Brown was there with his four sons, though they did not arrive
until Gov. Shannon had made overtures for peace.

The Governor telegraphed to Washington to obtain authority to call out
Col. Sumner with the United States troops at Fort Leavenworth. He also
wrote to Col. Sumner to hold himself ready to march at a moment's
notice. And now this simple-minded Gov. Shannon, Ex-Governor of Ohio,
who had come to Kansas to waste in a few short months the ripe honors he
had been so carefully hoarding up for a life-time, bethought himself
that it was time for him to go and look with his own eyes after this
rebellion he had so foolishly and recklessly stirred up.

We have already remarked that Gen. James H. Lane was the most
conspicuous figure in the defense of Lawrence. It is proper to pause and
consider the character of this man, who shone for a time like a
brilliant meteor, and then had his light quenched in the blackness of
darkness.

He had now been eight months in Kansas. He came out of the Mexican war
with a good reputation as a brilliant and dashing officer, and a man of
approved courage. As a politician he had been highly favored by the
people of Indiana. He was in the convention that nominated President
Pierce. He was in Congress at the time of the passage of the
Kansas-Nebraska bill, and aided in its enactment. He was the friend of
Stephen A. Douglas. Yet he came to Kansas a man of broken fortunes. He
was bankrupt in reputation, bankrupt in property, and bankrupt in
morals, and he came away from unhappy family relations. Notwithstanding,
he brought with him boundless ambition, and a consciousness in his own
heart that he possessed genius that might lift him up to the highest
pinnacle of honor. His first effort was to reorganize that political
party that was in control of the Government at Washington, and that he
had so faithfully served in Indiana. As respects slavery, he probably
would have said with Mr. Douglas that he did not care whether it was
voted up or voted down. But his effort fell stillborn and dead. Dr. John
H. Stringfellow was an old Whig, and so also were many of the
Pro-slavery leaders, and they would not hear to it that there should be
any parties known save the Pro-slavery and Free State parties. The Free
State men were equally averse to making any division in their own ranks.
Mr. Lane was to choose, and he did choose _with a vengeance_.

Bad men usually pay this compliment to a righteous life, that they seek
to conceal their wicked deeds and wear the outside seeming of virtue.
But this strange man never pretended to be anything else than just what
he was. He displayed such audacious boldness as gave an air of
respectability even to his wickedness.

His public speaking did not belong to any school of oratory known among
men; yet, if to sway the people as a tempest bends to its will a field
of waving grain, be oratory, then was Mr. Lane, in the highest sense of
the word, an orator. He spoke once in Chicago when the people were most
excited over the Kansas troubles. A great crowd came to hear, and he
swayed them to his will, as only such men as Henry Ward Beecher and
Patrick Henry have been able to do. But this gospel was the gospel of
hate. Implacable, unforgiving hate was his only gospel.

At last this man, at once both great and wicked, having attained the
highest honors the people had to bestow, died by his own hand. The
people believed that he had gone wrong and betrayed them, and they
withdrew from him their favor. Mr. Lane loved popularity more than he
loved heaven, and he shot himself through the brain.

The writer, unwilling alone to take the responsibility of expressing
such a judgment as the above, appealed to a gentlemen whose high
position in public life and kindly and conservative temper eminently
qualify him to speak, and this is what he says:

No one can question the fact that Mr. Lane's career in Kansas exerted a
great influence in shaping the affairs and controlling the destiny of
the young State. During his life I was alternately swayed by feelings of
admiration and distrust. I recognized fully the marvelous energy and
equally marvelous influence of the man, but I distrusted his sincerity
and lacked confidence in his integrity. When I met him, or listened to
one of his impassioned speeches, ne swept me away with the contagion of
his seeming enthusiasm, but when I went out from the influence of his
personal magnetism I felt that something was lacking in the man to
justify a well-grounded confidence.

This man that had in him such a commingling of good and evil was now the
leading spirit in the defense of Lawrence. [2]



CHAPTER XI

When Sheriff Jones saw that the control of this business was being taken
out of the hands of himself and his fellow-conspirators he wrote the
following letter to Gov. Shannon:

CAMP AT WAKARUSA, Dec. 6, 1855.
To His EXCELLENCY, GOV. SHANNON:

_Sir_: In reply to yours of yesterday I have to inform you
that the volunteer forces now at this place and Lecompton
are getting weary of inaction. They will not, I presume,
remain but a short time longer, unless a demand for the
prisoner is made. I think I shall have sufficient force to
protect me by to-morrow morning. The force at Lawrence is
not half so strong as reported. If I am to wait for
Government troops, more than two-thirds of the men that
are here will _go away very much dissatisfied._ They are
leaving hourly as it is.

It is reported that the people of Lawrence have run off
those offenders from town, and, indeed, it is said they
are now all out of the way. I have writs for sixteen
persons who were with the party that rescued my prisoner.
S. N. Wood, P. R. Brooks and Samuel Tappan are of
Lawrence, the balance from the country around. Warrants
will be put into my hands to-day for the arrest of G. W.
Brown, and probably others in Lecompton. They say that
they are willing to obey the laws, but no confidence can
be placed in any statements they may make. Most
respectfully yours,

SAMUEL J. JONES,
Sheriff of Douglas County.


From the above, three facts are apparent:

1. Sheriff Jones is not willing that the militia shall go home, and Col.
Sumner and the United States troops take their places.

2. He has writs against the sixteen rescuers of Branson. But of these he
has ascertained that thirteen live in the country, and he does not need
to go to Lawrence to find them. The three that belong in Lawrence are
gone to parts unknown, and he does not need to go to Lawrence to find
them. _At this writing Sheriff Jones has not a single writ against any
person in Lawrence._

3. If he has such a warrant the Lawrence people profess themselves
willing that he should serve it, but he does not believe them. "No
confidence can be placed in any statements that they may make."

So far as Sheriff Jones is concerned, it is now manifest that this was a
devilish conspiracy against the people of Lawrence, to cut their throats
and burn up the town. How far the men that were with him were conscious
partners in his guilt, or how far they were ignorant dupes of a man that
had murder in his heart, does not appear.

The people of Lawrence now thought it was time for them to open
communication with Gov. Shannon, and Messrs. G. P. Lowery and C. W.
Babcock, after running the gauntlet of the patrols, robbers and
guerillas that infested the road to Shawnee Mission, succeeded in
putting in the hands of the Governor the following letter:

To His EXCELLENCY, WILSON SHANNON, GOVERNOR KANSAS TERRITORY:

_Sir_: As citizens of Kansas Territory, we desire to call
your attention to the fact that a large force of armed men
from a foreign State have assembled in the vicinity of
Lawrence, are now committing depredations upon our
citizens, stopping them, opening and appropriating their
loadings, arresting, detaining and threatening travelers
upon the public road, and that they claim to do this by
your authority. We desire to know if they do appear by
your authority, and if you will secure the peace and quiet
of the community by ordering their instant removal, or
compel us to resort to some other means or a higher
authority.

SIGNED BY COMMITTEE.


The Governor began to think it was time for him to go to the camp of
Sheriff Jones' army on the Wakarusa; and when he came he was frightened
at his own work, and became just as eager to get out of the scrape as he
had been forward to get into it. He wrote to Col. Sumner, frantically
begging him to come to the rescue; but he had got no orders, and would
not move without orders. Sheriff Jones and the rank and file of his camp
were furious that they were held back from pitching into the Lawrence
people; but the officers had become cognizant of the bloody job they
would have on hands, and were willing to be let off. And so the Governor
patched up a peace, and sent his militia home again, with their curses
diverted from the Lawrence Abolitionists to Gov. Shannon. Cowardly,
weak-minded and infirm in purpose as this unhappy man was, he was not
wholly a fool; and we may justly believe that he had in his heart a
foreboding of that awful day of reckoning that would surely come, when
inquisition would be made for the blood of these citizens, and the
Governor himself would be called to answer, "Why were these men slain?"

And now that peace--angelic peace--sat brooding over Lawrence with her
dove-like pinions, they made a love-feast and invited the Governor to
partake of it; and what with the ravishing music, and the blandishment
of flattering tongues, and the intoxication of fair women's eyes and
sweet voices, the Governor was made to forget, for the time being, that
he was the property, body, soul, and spirit, of the "Law and Order" party;
and his soft and plastic nature was beguiled into signing a document
constituting the army of defense of Lawrence a part of the Territorial
Militia, and giving them authority, under his own hand and seal, to
fight with teeth and toe-nails against the outside barbarians that he
himself had invoked to cut their throats. When, however, he had come to
himself, and had to front the frowns and ungrammatical curses of the
"Border Ruffians," he was fain to lay the blame on the sparkling wine of
the feast, and the more sparkling eyes and sparkling wit of beautiful
women.

These felicitations of the people of Lawrence with Governor Shannon did,
however, have a somber and awful background. While this had been going
on a boy had been murdered in the vicinity of Lawrence. Some young men
rode out to see about it, and one of them was shot and killed. But a
still more ghastly crime threw its baleful shadow over the people. It
was perpetrated two days before the Governor concluded his treaty of
peace.

Thomas W. Barber and Robert F. Barber were farmers, living about seven
miles from Lawrence; and on December 6th started with a Mr. Pierson to
go home to their families. These were two brothers and a brother-in-law.
They were intercepted on their way by J. N. Burns, of Weston, Mo., and
Major George W. Clarke, United States Agent for the Pottawatomie
Indians. These two men shot Thomas W. Barber. It is hard to find an
explanation of their act, unless it were that they came to Lawrence to
shoot down Abolitionists as they would have shot wolves on the prairie.
They had no provocation. They rode apart from their companions to
intercept the Barbers, and called on them to halt. Thomas W. Barber was
unarmed, and gave mild and truthful answers to their questions. After
the shooting the brothers started to ride away, when the murdered man
said, "That fellow hit me;" began to sway in his saddle, was supported
for a little time by his brother, then fell to the ground dead. His
horse also had been shot, and died the same night. Familiar as Kansas
had become with cruel and devilish deeds, there were circumstances
connected with this act that made it exceptionally a blood-curdling
horror. Thomas W. Barber was a somewhat notable farmer, and had married
a young wife, that loved her husband with a love so passionate that she
was sometimes rallied about it by her sister-in-law. It had been with
misgivings and forebodings she had consented for Barber to go to
Lawrence. The news of her husband's death had been kept from her; they
dared not tell her. A young man was sent to bring her into the city,
whither her husband's body had been already carried, and he blurted out,
"Thomas Barber is killed!" and she shrieked, "O, my husband! my
husband! Have they killed my husband?" It has been said that so frantic
were her struggles, that it was with main force they had to hold her in
the carriage which conveyed her into the city. Much has been written of
the pathetic and voiceless woe of this wretched and sorrow-stricken
woman, but we will spare the reader the recital.

This question, however, we did often ask ourselves: "What had we done
that we should be made to suffer thus?"

But now there was peace, and Sheriff Jones, breathing out curses against
the Governor who had balked him of his anticipated revenge, disbanded
his army and went back to his post-office at Westport. It was past the
middle of December, but some lingered on their way, robbing and
stealing. The cold grew intense. A driving snow came down from the
North. It was one of the coldest winters Kansas had ever known, and
there fell one of the deepest snows. And now, winding through the deep
snow, benumbed with cold, and all unprovided with clothing suitable for
such inclement weather, the rear guard of the ring-streaked, speckled
and spotted regiment of Kansas and Missouri Militia passed out of the
Territory.

Thirteen leaders of the "Law and Order" party had met with Lane and
Robinson, acting on behalf of the people of Lawrence, and had agreed to
the terms of the treaty. But Sheriff Jones is reported to have said:
"Had not Shannon been a fool I would have wiped out Lawrence." It is
reported that Stringfellow said that "Shannon had sold himself and
disgraced himself and the whole Pro-slavery party." Atchison accepted
the terms, saying to his followers: "Boys, we can not fight now. The
position that Lawrence has taken is such that it would not do to make an
attack on them. But boys, we will fight some time!"

The peace was to be broken at the earliest opportunity.



CHAPTER XII.

The winter of 1855-6 that I spent in Illinois was uneventful. My success
was not such as to discourage an evangelist that desires to be useful,
neither was it such as to fill him with vanity. The weather was
intensely cold, and the snow was deep.

It is said that before the coming of an earthquake, the sea gives forth
deep moanings, as if it felt the approaching convulsion; so at that time
there seemed premonitions in the hearts of the people that the whole
nation, North, South, East and West, would be swept by a political
cyclone that should leave behind it the desolation that is sometimes, in
the West India Islands, left in the track of a tropical hurricane. We
had heard of the murder of Dow, the rescue of Branson, and the invasion
of Lawrence, and these certainly did not give promise that Kansas would
be a favorable field for evangelical work, at least for a time. The
writer had not hitherto spent much of his time in Adams county; he now
spent a considerable part of the winter there, and visited the churches
of Quincy, Chambersburg, Camp Point, and many others. The brethren at
Quincy were making that experiment of monthly preaching that has been
found so hazardous, especially to city churches. They have since changed
the plan with wonderfully good results. It was at the church at
Chambersburg that Bro. Cottingham who has now won a national reputation,
achieved some of his earliest successes.

The majority of the leading members of these churches had been men and
women of full age when they left Kentucky. Some had tarried a little
time in Indiana. The memory of some went back to the time when the
Mississippi Valley was almost an unbroken wilderness, with here and
there a scattered settlement, made up of a frontier and uneducated
people. What are now its great cities were then insignificant hamlets,
and its means of commerce were rude flat boats on its rivers, and
pack-horses, or clumsy, heavy lumber wagons on its rough and often
impassable roads. There were few schools, fewer churches and still fewer
educated men. The country was perambulated by itinerant preachers. These
were guided by visions and revelations. Signs, omens and impressions
directed them to their field of labor and controlled their lives.
Ecstatic joy, vivid impressions, voices in the air, or seeing the Lord
in the tree-tops, were their evidences of pardon.

Once every year the people came together to a great camp-meeting. There
was intense excitement and enthusiasm, and many got religion; and this
was followed by spiritual lethargy, coldness and apostasy. It was a
short, hot summer, followed by a long, cold winter of moral and
spiritual death.

Among the Old Baptists there was preaching once a month. This was all.
There were no prayer-meetings, no meeting together every first day of
the week to break break and read the Holy Scriptures. Christian morality
was at a low ebb, and Christian liberality down to zero.

At length there came a change. The fountains of the great deep were
broken up, and men broke loose from the dominion of these old and
man-made systems. John Smith took the lead, and was followed by old
Jacob Creath, Samuel Rogers, John Rogers, John Allen Gano, P. S. Fall,
and many others. Alex. Campbell once said:

If any man can read the Acts of Apostles through three times, chapter by
chapter, pondering each chapter as he reads, and then can remain an
advocate of these old systems of conversion, may the Lord have mercy on
him!

But the old Baptists fiercely resisted the Reformers, and cast them out
as heathen men and publicans. And now the Bible was a new revelation to
the men that came into this movement. The veil was taken off their eyes,
and they could read the Scriptures as they had never read them before.
They could now see that the Bible was a simple and intelligible volume,
written to be understood by the common people, and they were only amazed
at their former blindness. But they were made to know what persecution
means. All the denominations combined against them, and they were
compelled to read the Scriptures to defend themselves; and thus pressed
by their enemies on every hand, they were made to feel how near they
were to each other, and how much they loved each other, and it became an
easy thing to meet together every first day of the week to sing, to pray,
to exhort, and to commemorate the death of their risen Lord. But many of
them were poor, and had growing families, and they had heard that there
was a large and good land in the Military Tract in Illinois, and with
many a tearful adieu, and bidding farewell to the they loved so well,
like Abraham going out into the land that God had given him, into this
land flowing with milk and honey they came--and prospered.

And here the writer of these "Personal Recollections" found them,
growing strong, and rich, and influential, and more prosperous than any
other religious body in Adams county. It is now after the lapse of
thirty years, to be mentioned to their honor--and to the honor of the
churches of the State--that they have made commendable progress in the
direction of a Christian liberality, and of moral, intellectual, and
religious growth; still they are not yet up to the mark.

For the purpose of the moral, intellectual and religious education of
his people, the Lord has given us one day in seven, and in one year he
has given us fifty such days. This in seven years is one whole year, and
in seventy-five years it is ten years, leaving out five years as the
period of babyhood; and this as fitting men for the highest style of
religious life, and of American citizenship is, if well employed, the
best school on the face of the earth. Needs it to be said, that to do
this work well, the teachers in this school of the prophets have need to
be well qualified? There are certain Scriptures bearing on this point we
will do well to ponder:

Meditate on these things; give thyself _wholly_ to them, that thy
profitting may appear unto all.

No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life,
that he may please him who hath called him to be a soldier. The Lord
give thee understanding in all things.

We have no churches in this nation to whom these admonitions apply with
greater weight of impressive authority than to the churches of Illinois.
Where much is given, there much is required, and to no State in the
Union has more been given in the way of worldly wealth than to the
Disciples of that commonwealth. There is not such another body of rich
land in this great nation, perhaps not in the world. Water is an element
essential to the highest productiveness, even of fertile soil, and the
vapors rising on the Gulf of Mexico have not a hillock three hundred
feet high to obstruct their flow up the Mississippi eastward and
northward, until they reach the State of Illinois. And the men that do
business in the cities of this prosperous State, or till its fertile and
alluvial soil, that was lifted up, not many geologic ages ago, from
beneath the bottom of the sea, are so rich they do not know how rich
they are. But it is a peril to be rich. Jesus, Paul and Solomon unite in
saying so, and it is especially a peril when wealth comes suddenly. When
a man starts poor, and has felt the sting of contempt because of his
poverty, and then finds himself rich and prosperous and flattered, and
tempted to indulge in every luxury, then this man is in great peril; and
there is no security against this danger like using the wealth that God
has given him for the glory of God and the good of men.

But there were brethren thirty years ago that needed no admonition as
touching the disposition they should make of their world goods. I could
give a goodly number of examples, but the reader will pardon me if,
because of the narrow limits of these "Recollections," I confine myself
to one.

Peter B. Garrett, of Camp Point, Adams county, had set himself, with
honest purpose, to bring his Kentucky brethren up to the level of the
demands of primitive and apostolic Christianity. Every man has his
hobby, and Bro. G. had his hobby. When the writer first visited Camp
Point, he was demanded of to know if it was not a fixed part of the
apostolic order that each disciple should, on the first day of the week,
lay by him in store, of money or goods, as the Lord had prospered him,
putting it into the Lord's treasury? I could not quite affirm this, but
Bro. G. stuck to his hobby.

Bro. Garrett knew the value of a full treasury, and was ready to do his
part towards settling a preacher in the church, and paying him. But he
could not bring his brethren up to the level of his own aspirations.

Bro. G. came from Kentucky a poor man, but he got hold of a considerable
body of good land, when it was cheap, and cultivated it skillfully. Then
the Quincy, Galesburg and Chicago Railroad was build in front of his
farm, and the town of Camp Point grew up adjoining his premises. He also
built a flouring mill, and this added to his gains; and thus he grew
rich and influential, but he never thought of himself only as plain
Peter Garrett. The writer in fifty years has known many excellent
Christian families, but he has never known one family that, with saint
and sinner, among persons outside and inside of the church, have had a
more honorable fame than this Christian family. His wife was a motherly
woman. She did not assume to know much, but what she did know she knew
well, and translated her little store of knowledge into an abundance of
good deeds. She knew how to guide the house, take good care of her
children, live in peace with her neighbors, love the church and attend
its meetings, fear God and entertain strangers; and so this house, like
the house of the Vicar of Wakefield, became a resort for

    "All the vagrant train,"

whether of tramps or preachers. His children, from the time they were
able to toddle, were taught to do something useful. His little boys were
made to bring in wood, and run on errands, and his girls to wash the
dishes; and thus this house became a hive of industry, and it came to
pass that in process of time, when our beloved Bro. Garrison, of the
_Christian-Evangelist,_ went out to seek a woman to take care of his
house, he very properly sought this favor at the hands of Peter
Garrett's daughter. It is a good thing to follow a good example, and our
devoted Bro. Smart, hitherto of the _Witness_, now co-editor of the
_Evangelist_, went and did likewise. [3]

Bro. Garret loaned the writer a light spring wagon for the purpose of
bringing his family back from Kansas, and thus equipped, he started a
second time on the journey he had made one year before.

One thought filled his heart: Will this tumult pass away, and will the
American people go forward and fulfill that glorious destiny to which
God in his providence has called them?



CHAPTER XIII.

The news of the coming of the South Carolinians had not reached Illinois
when I started for Kansas, but when I had reached Western Missouri the
country was alive with excitement. Maj. Jefferson Buford had arrived
with 350 soldiers, and a part of them were quartered in Atchison. Some
persons whose acquaintance I had made, and who were my friends, besought
me not to go on.

The last night I stayed in Missouri was at De Kalb. A gentleman who
had come from St. Joseph stayed over night at the hotel where I put
up. He was tall of stature, with a flowing beard sprinkled with gray,
and was of a remarkably dignified and impressive presence. We
conversed during the evening on general topics, but no allusion was
made to the one exciting topic, on which almost all seemed ready to
talk _instanter._

The next morning he overtook me. He was on horseback, and mentioned
that he was going to Atchison, and for some distance rode beside my
buggy, continuing the conversation. Then, as he could travel faster
than myself, he rode on.

The reader will recognize this gentleman again in Atchison. An account
of my adventures [4] on the other side of the river will be found in a
letter addressed by myself to the _Herald of Freedom_:



[For the Herald of Freedom.]

STRANGER CREEK, Ocena P. O., May 6, 1856.

MR. EDITOR--_Dear Sir_: The bar of public opinion seems to
be the only tribunal to which the free State men of Kansas
can appeal for redress. I must, therefore, ask your
indulgence while I make a statement of facts.

One year ago I came to Kansas and bought a claim on
Stranger Creek, Atchison county. On the 17th of August,
the Border Ruffians of the town of Atchison sent me down
the Missouri River on a raft. We parted under a mutual
pledge: I pledged myself that if my life was spared I
would come back to Atchison, and they pledged themselves
that if I did come back they would hang me. Faithful to my
promise, in November last I returned to Kansas, and
visited Atchison in open day, announced myself on hand,
and returned without molestation. Kansas being sparsely
settled, without churches or meeting-houses, it was
determined that Mrs. Butler should live on our claim with
her brother and her brother's wife, while I should return
to Illinois, and resume my labors as a preacher.

April 30th I returned to Kansas, crossing the Missouri
River into Atchison. I spoke with no one in the town, save
with two merchants of the place, with whom I have had
business transactions since my first arrival in the
Territory. Having remained only a few moments, I went to
my buggy to resume my journey, when I was assaulted by
Robert S. Kelley, co-editor of the _Squatter Sovereign_,
and others, was dragged into a saloon, and there
surrounded by a company of South Carolinians, who are
reported to have been sent out by a Southern Emigrant Aid
Society. In this last mob I recognized only two that were
citizens of Atchison or engaged in the former mob. It is
not reported that these emigrants from the Palmetto State
seek out a claim, and make for themselves a home, neither
do they enter into any legitimate business. They very
expressively describe themselves as having _come out to
see Kansas through._ They yelled, "Kill him! Kill him!
Hang the Abolitionist." One of their number bristled up to
me and said, "Have you got a revolver?" I answered, "No."
He handed me a pistol and said, "There, take that, and
stand off ten steps; and I will blow you through in an
instant." I replied, "I have no use for your weapon." I
afterwards heard them congratulating themselves in
reference to this, that they had acted in an honorable
manner with me. The fellow was furious; but his companions
dissuaded him from shooting me, saying they were going to
hang me.

They pinioned my arms behind my back, obtained a rope, but
were interrupted by the entrance of a stranger--a
gentleman from Missouri, since ascertained to be Judge
Tutt, a lawyer from St. Joseph. He said: "My friends, hear
me. I am an old man, and it is right you should hear me. I
was born in Virginia, and have lived many years in
Missouri. I am a slaveholder, and desire Kansas to be made
a slave State, if it can be done by honorable means. But
you will destroy the cause you are seeking to build up.
You have taken this man, who was peaceably passing through
your streets and along the public highway, and doing no
person any harm. We profess to be 'Law and Order' men, and
ought to be the last to commit violence. If this man has
broken the law, let him be judged according to law; but
for the sake of Missouri, for the sake of Kansas, for the
sake of the pro-slavery cause, do not act in this way."
They dragged me into another building, and appointed a
moderator, and got up a kind of lynch law trial. Kelley
told his story. I rose to my feet, and calmly and in
respectful language began to tell mine; but I was jerked
to my seat and so roughly handled that I was compelled to
desist. My friend from Missouri again earnestly besought
them to set me at liberty. Kelley turned short on him and
said: "Do you belong to Kansas?" Judge Tutt replied: "No;
but I expect to live here in Atchison next fall, and in
this matter the interests of Kansas and Missouri are
identical." Chester Lamb, a lawyer in Atchison, and Samuel
Dickson, a merchant of the place, both pro slavery men,
also united with Judge Tutt in pleading that I might be
set at liberty. While these gentlemen were speaking, I
heard my keepers mutter, "If you don't hush up, we will
tar and feather you." But when Kelley saw how matters
stood, he came forward and said he "did not take Butler to
have him hung, but only tarred and feathered," Yet in the
saloon he had sad to the mob: "_You shall do as you
please._" He dared not take the responsibility of taking
my life, but when these unfortunate men, whose
one-idea-ism on the subject of slavery and Southern rights
has become insanity--when these irresponsible South
Carolinians, sent out to be bull dogs and blood hounds for
Atchison and Stringfellow--when they could be used as
tools to take my life, he was ready to do it.

Our gunpowder moderator cut the matter short by saying,
"It is moved that Butler be tarred and feathered and
receive thirty-nine lashes." A majority said "Aye," though
a number of voices said "No." The moderator said, "The
affirmative has it; Butler has to be tarred and feathered
and whipped." I began to speculate how that sort of thing
would work as far north as the latitude of Kansas. There
was a good deal of whispering about the house. I saw dark,
threatening and ominous looks in the crowd. The moderator
again came forward, and, in an altered voice, said: "_It
is moved that the last part of the sentence be
rescinded."_ It was rescinded, and I was given into the
hands of my South Carolina overseers to be tarred and
feathered. They muttered and growled at this issue of the
matter. They said, "If we had known it would come out in
this way, we would have let shoot Butler at the first. He
would have done it quicker than a flash." One little,
sharp-visaged, dark-featured South Carolinian, who seemed
to be the leader of the gang, was particularly displeased.
With bitter curses he said, "I am not come all the way
from South Carolina, spending so much money to do things
up in such milk-and-water style as this."

They stripped me naked to my waist, covered my body with
tar, and for the want of feathers applied cotton. Having
appointed a committee of seven to certainly hang me the
next time I should come into Atchison, they tossed my
clothes into my buggy, put me therein, accompanied me to
the outskirts of the town, and sent me naked out upon the
prairie. It was a cold, bleak day. I adjusted my attire
about me as best I could, and hastened to rejoin my wife
and little ones on the banks of the Stranger Creek. It was
a sorrowful meeting after so long a parting, still we were
very thankful that, under the favor of a good Providence,
it had fared no worse with us all.

Many will ask now, as they have asked already, what is the
true and proper cause of all these troubles I have had in
Atchison? I have told the world already; I can only repeat
my own words. I have said, The head and front of my
offending hath this extent, no more: I had spoken among my
neighbors favorably to making Kansas a free State, and
said in the office of the _Squatter Sovereign_, "I am a
Free-soiler, and intend to vote for Kansas to be a free
State."

Still it will be regarded as incredible that a man should
receive such treatment for uttering such words as I report
myself to have uttered. The matter is plain enough when
the facts are understood.

Prior to August 17, 1855, there was no Free-soil party
organized in Atchison county--perhaps not in the whole
Territory of Kansas. Free-soilers did not know their own
strength, and were disposed to be prudent; some were
timid. Here in Atchison county we determined that if the
Border Ruffians were resolved to drive matters to a bloody
issue, the responsibility of doing so should rest wholly
with themselves. There are many Free-soilers in this
county--brave men--who have no conscientious scruples to
hinder them from arming themselves, and preparing to repel
force with force. The Border Ruffians sought by a system
of terrorism so to intimidate the Free-soilers as to
prevent them from organizing a Free-soil party, or even
discussing the subject of freedom and slavery in Kansas.
They carried this to such an extent of outrageous violence
that it came to be currently reported that it was as much
as a man's life was worth to say in the town of Atchison,
"I am a Free-soiler." We deprecated violence, and wished a
peaceful discussion of the subject. It was therefore most
fitting that a man whose profession forbade him to go
armed should put to the test of actual experiment whether
an American citizen of blameless life could be permitted
to enjoy the right of free speech--the privilege of
expressing views favorable to making Kansas a free
State--such views being uttered without anything of angry,
abusive or insulting language. It was for this purpose the
above words were spoken, and which have been the cause of
all my troubles in Atchison.

If there is any class of men who stand behind the curtain
and pull the wires, we would respectfully represent to
them that it will do no good to urge these understrappers
on to these deeds of violence and ruffianism. We are not a
class of men to utter childish complaints at any wrongs we
may suffer, _but we know our rights and intend to have
them._

Subscribing myself the friend of all good and civil men,
whether North or South, I am very truly, PARDEE BUTLER.



CHAPTER XIV.

We have already told how Sheriff Jones failed to wipe out Lawrence;
how Gov. Shannon patched up a peace, and how that, in no good temper,
the "Law and Order" party returned to the border. But immediately
the Free State party gave evidence that its spirit had not been
broken. A convention had been called to meet at Topeka, in November,
1855, to frame a free State Constitution, and this was ratified at
an election called December 15 following, 1,731 votes being cast in
its favor, the election having been held only one week after the
treaty of peace had been made. Then in less than two weeks a second
convention was called to meet at Lawrence, at which a full board of
State officers was nominated, the election having been set to be held
on the 15th of January.

At Leavenworth, the attempt to hold the election resulted in such mobs
and tumult that it was forbidden to be held by a faint-hearted Free
State mayor, and was consequently adjourned to Easton. The Free State
printing press of Mark Delahay was, during these troubles, destroyed.
At Easton, a mob undertook to break up the election, but was driven
off, and in the affray one of the attacking party named Cook was
mortally wounded. Then the _Kansas Pioneer_, published at Kickapoo,
made an inflammatory appeal to the "Law and Order" party to rally and
avenge Cook's death, and in an answer to this appeal the "Kickapoo
Rangers" and Captain Dunn's company, from Leavenworth, in all about
fifty men, turned out to go to Easton on this errand. A number of
gentlemen had gone from Leavenworth to Easton to attend the election,
and had stayed over night, among whom were Captain R. P. Brown, a
resident of Salt Creek Valley, near Leavenworth. Captain B. was a man
well esteemed in his neighborhood, and was a member-elect of the
Legislature. Captain Dunn and his company met these men returning to
Leavenworth, and took them prisoners, carrying them back to Easton.
Here they got up a sort of Lynch-law trial for Captain Brown, but the
rabble composing Dunn's company, having maddened themselves with
drink, broke into the room where the trial was going on, seized
Captain Brown, who was unarmed and helpless, and tortured him with
barbarity that has been supposed to be only possible among savages,
and then threw the wounded and dying man into an open lumber wagon, in
which they hauled him home to his wife, over the rough, frozen roads,
in one of the coldest nights of that bitter cold January; stopping
meantime at the drinking-houses by the way, they consumed seven hours
in making the journey. His wife became insane at the sight of her
butchered and dying husband, thrown into the door by these brutal
wretches, and was, in that condition, taken to her brother in
Michigan. All this was testified to, with every _minutia_ of detail,
before the Investigating Committee.

The border papers were aflame with appeals to the "Law and Order"
party to go over into Kansas and wipe out the pestiferous Free State
men, who set at naught the Territorial Legislature. The following
sample of these appeals we extract from a speech made by David R.
Atchison, at Platte City:

They held an election on the 15th of last month, and they intend to
put the machinery of a State in motion on the 4th of March, "_I say,
prepare yourselves; go over there_. And if they attempt to drive you
out, then drive them out. Fifty of you with your shot-guns are worth
two hundred and fifty of them with their Sharpe's rifles."

Meanwhile a great cry of wrongs and outrages against the Free State
men had filled the whole North, and Congress could not choose, but had
to pay attention to it. Ex-Governor Reeder came forward and contested
the seat of Mr. Whitfield as Territorial delegate to Congress,
alleging that Mr. W. owed his election to the votes of men not
residents of the Territory. As a result, a Committee of Investigation
was appointed to go to Kansas to take testimony, this committee being
composed of Sherman of Ohio, Howard, of Michigan, and Oliver, of
Missouri. These took an immense number of depositions, which were
published in a volume of more than 1,200 octavo pages, and of which
20,000 were ordered to be printed. This investigating committee made a
majority report signed by Howard and Sherman, in which they summed up
their conclusions under eight heads. Of these we shall copy four:

MAJORITY REPORT.

1. That each election held in the Territory under the
organic or Territorial law has been carried by organized
invasion from the State of Missouri, by which the people
of the Territory have been prevented from exercising the
rights secured to them by the organic law.

2. That the alleged Territorial Legislature was an
illegally constituted body, and had no power to pass valid
laws, and their enactments are therefore null and void.

3. That Andrew H. Reeder received a greater number of
votes of resident citizens than John W. Whitfield for
delegate.

4. That in the present condition of the Territory a fair
election can not be held without a new census, a stringent
and well-guarded election law, the selection of impartial
judges, and the presence of United States troops at every
election.

_(Signed)_ WM. A. HOWARD,
           JOHN SHERMAN.


Mr. Oliver made a minority report, summing up his conclusions under
seven heads. From this we shall copy three:

MINORITY REPORT.

1. That the Territorial Legislature was a legally
constituted body, and had power to pass valid laws, and
their enactments were therefore valid.

2. That the election under which the sitting delegate,
John W. Whitfield, holds his seat was held in pursuance of
valid law, and should be regarded as a valid election.

3. That the election under which the contesting delegate,
Andrew H. Reeder, claims his seat, was not held under any
law, and should be wholly disregarded by the House.
_(Signed)_ M. OLIVER.


As a result, Congress permanently unseated Mr. Whitfield, and ordered
a new election, thus affirming the conclusions of Howard and Sherman.
This committee began its work in April and ended in June.

The "Law and Order" party did not, however, wait for the conclusion
of these proceedings at Washington. Col. Buford, as we have told in a
former chapter, arrived early in the spring with his company of South
Carolinians, and Gen. David R. Atchison had gathered, along the
borders, several hundred men to make a second raid on Lawrence. These
all marched to Lecompton, where they held themselves in readiness to
act, as soon as a pretext could be found invoking their help.

And now the inevitable Samuel J. Jones, Sheriff of Douglas County,
again put in an appearance. This time it was to arrest Sam Wood for
the rescue of Branson. Jones arrested Wood on the streets of Lawrence.
A crowd gathered around, and in the jostling and pushing Jones and
Wood were separated, and Wood walked away. No threats were made, and
no violence used. The next day was Sunday, and Jones again appeared,
but Sam Wood was missing. He had stayed that night at the house of the
writer, in Atchison County, being then on his way to the free States.
Jones, however, had writs for the arrest of those who had been the
occasion of Wood's escape, and the Sheriff called on some of the
church-going people to act as his _posse_ in making his arrests. But
these were of "the most straitest sect" of the Puritans, and it was
contrary to their consciences to do any manner of carnal work on the
Sabbath day, and in their estimation this was exceedingly carnal work,
and they kept their faces set as if they would go to the synagogue.
Samuel F. Tappan was one of the Branson rescuers, and Jones seized
Tappan by the collar, and Tappan struck Jones in the face. This was
enough; Jones had been resisted, and he went to the Governor and
demanded a _posse_ of United States soldiers to aid him in making his
arrest. Thus reinforced with a detachment of United States troops, our
valorous Sheriff Jones went a third time and arrested without
resistance six respectable citizens of Lawrence, on a charge of
contempt of court, because they had declined to break the Sabbath in
aiding him to make arrests on the Lord's day. In due course of law, it
should have been his duty to take his prisoners before a magistrate,
and allowed them to give bail to appear at a given time to answer for
this alleged contempt. But Jones elected to keep his prisoners without
bail, and to act as his own jailer, and so he encamped in a tent on
the prairie, using these United States soldiers as his guard. This was
a manifest bait to the people of Lawrence to attempt a rescue, but
they did not walk into the trap, and so these prisoners slept on the
prairie, and their wives slept at home bereaved of their husbands.
Somebody shot Jones. It is presumed that somebody thought he ought to
be shot, but it was as great a calamity to Lawrence as was the rescue
of Branson. The people of Lawrence removed Jones to the Free State
hotel, showed every sympathy they could show, and offered a reward of
$500 for the apprehension of the assassin. Notwithstanding, all
Western Missouri was immediately aflame with appeals to the people to
come to the rescue, and avenge the death of the murdered Jones. But
the papers making these appeals did not publish the proceedings of the
indignation meeting held at Lawrence, nor did they tell that a reward
had been offered for the apprehension of the assassin, nor did they
tell that Jones' wound was so slight that he was able to be removed
the next day to Franklin.

Meanwhile a conspiracy was hatched at Lecompton, in which Chief
Justice Lecompte was the chief conspirator, to arrest the leading Free
State men on a charge of treason, and keep them prisoners without
bail, and thus smother out the Free State movement. James F. Legati
was one of the United States grand jurors, and violated his oath of
secrecy and made a night journey to give warning to the men that were
to be made victims to this conspiracy. Gov. Charles Robinson fled down
the Missouri River, but was detained at Lexington, was brought back
under charge of treason, and placed in confinement at Lecompton;
others fled the Territory, and Lawrence was left to fight its battles
with its old leaders gone. According to the purpose of this conspiracy
a large number of Free State men were indicted for high treason; and
the Free State hotel and the two printing presses were returned by the
Grand Jury as _nuisances_, and as such were by Judge Lecompte ordered
to be destroyed. Immediately following Legati's nocturnal visit,
Ex-Governor Reeder received a summons at the hands of Deputy Marshal
Fain to appear at Lecompton _as a witness_. Mr. Reeder declined to
obey the summons. The next day a writ was served on him to appear on a
charge of "contempt of court" for not having appeared as a witness.
Mr. Reeder refused to submit to the arrest for two reasons--first,
that his life would be in danger; second, he plead his privilege of
exemption from arrest because he was a member-elect of Congress. Then
United States Marshal Donaldson issued the following

PROCLAMATION.

WHEREAS, Certain judicial arrests have been directed to me
by the First District Court of the United States, etc., to
be executed within the county of Douglas, and

WHEREAS, The attempt to execute them by the United States
Deputy Marshal was evidently resisted by a large number of
people of Lawrence, and as there is every reason to
believe that any attempt to execute these writs will be
resisted by a large body of armed men; now, therefore, the
law-abiding citizens of the Territory are commanded to be
and appear at Lecompton as soon as practicable, and in
numbers sufficient to execute the law.

Given under my hand this 11th day of May, 1856.

J. B. DONALDSON,
U. S. Marshal of the Territory of Kansas.


On receipt of this proclamation the citizens of Lawrence
called a public meeting and adopted the following
preamble and resolution:

WHEREAS, By a proclamation to the people of Kansas
Territory, by T B. Donaldson, it is alleged that certain
judicial writs of arrest have been directed to him by the
First District Court of the United States, etc. to be
executed within the county of Douglas, and that an attempt
to execute them was evidently resisted by a large number
of the citizens of Lawrence, and that there is every
reason to believe that an attempt to execute said writs
will be resisted by a large body of armed men; therefore,

_Resolved_, By this public meeting of the citizens of
Lawrence, that the allegations and charges against us,
contained in the aforesaid proclamation, are wholly untrue
in fact and in the conclusion which is drawn from them.
The aforesaid Marshal was resisted in no manner whatever,
nor by any person whatever, in the execution of said
writs, except by him whose arrest the Deputy Marshal was
seeking to make. And that we now, as we have done
heretofore, declare our willingness and determination,
without resistance, to acquiesce in the service upon us of
any judicial writs against us by the United States Deputy
Marshal, _and will furnish him with a posse for that
purpose_, if so requested; but that we are ready to
resist, if need be, unto death, the ravages and desolation
of an invading mob.



CHAPTER XV.

Before Marshal Donaldson had issued the proclamation copied in our
last chapter, the citizens of Lawrence had forwarded to Gov. Shannon
the following:

WHEREAS, We have most reliable information of the
organization of guerrilla bands, who threaten the
destruction of our town and its citizens; therefore

_Resolved_, That Messrs. Topliff, Hutchingson and Roberts
constitute a committee to inform His Excellency of these
facts, and to call upon him, in the name of the people of
Lawrence, for protection against such bands by the United
States troops at his disposal.


To this the Governor made the following reply:

EXECUTIVE OFFICE, May 12, 1856.

GENTLEMEN: Your note of the 11th inst. is received, and in
reply I have to state that there is no force around or
approaching Lawrence, except the largely constituted
_posse_ of the United States Marshal and Sheriff of
Douglas county, each of whom, I am informed, has a number
of writs in his hands for execution against persons in
Lawrence. I shall in no way interfere with these officers
in the discharge of their official duties.

If the citizens of Lawrence submit themselves to the
Territorial laws, and aid and assist the Marshal and the
Sheriff in the execution of processes in their hands, as
all good citizens are bound to do when called upon, they
will entitle themselves to the protection of the law. But
so long as they keep up a military or armed organization
to resist the Territorial laws and the officers charged
with their execution, I shall not interpose to save them
from the legitimate consequences of their illegal acts.


The following is a list of the notabilities that were in command of
the army that was to serve as the _posse_ of Marshal Donaldson, David
R. Atchison in command of the Platte county riflemen of Missouri;
Capt. Dunn, of the Kickapoo Rangers; Gen. B. F. String fellow, Robert
S. Kelley and Peter T. Abell having charge of the recruits from
Atchison; Col. Wilkes, of South Carolina; Col. Titus, of Florida; Col.
Boone, of Westport, Mo., and Col. Buford, of South Carolina. More than
three-fourths of this army was composed of non-residents of Kansas.

A third time the citizens of Lawrence called a public meeting, and
this time they appeal to Marshal Donaldson. They say, "We beg leave to
ask respectfully, what are the demands against us?" They repeat their
oft-repeated assurance that they will submit to arrests, and demand
protection against the gathering mob from the men representing the
authority of the General Government. Marshal Donaldson only replied
with jeers and insults. The people of Lawrence were indeed in evil
case.

The beleagured citizens saw themselves shut in by armed bands, engaged
in murder, robbery, and plunder; and this time they appealed to the
Investigating Committee, now gone to Leavenworth; but that committee
had no power to help them. Col. Sumner could not help them, unless the
Governor should speak the word; and Shannon was dumb.

Lane had gone East; Robinson was a prisoner; Ex-Gov. Reeder had fled,
disguised as a common laborer; and others were in hiding; and perforce
the management of affairs had to be given into the hands of new men. A
Committee of Public Safety was chosen, and this committee determined
on a policy of abject submission and non-resistance. A committee of
volunteers from Topeka offered their assistance, but were told: "We
do not want you." Pusillanimous as Gov. Shannon was, he found he had a
man to deal with more pusillanimous than himself, in the person of S.
C. Pomeroy, chairman of the Committee of Public Safety. Citizens of
Lawrence left in unspeakable disgust. The people of the Territory
looked on in amazement. The boys jeeringly called the Committee of
Public Safety "The Committee of the Public Safety Valve."

The writer had given his testimony before the Investigating Committee
while they were yet in Lawrence. A number of South Carolinians had
been present while this testimony was being given, and they had
protested in a towering rage, "We will shoot Butler on sight." It was
evident the town had to be given up to the tender mercies of this mob
of ruffians. There was nothing to be gained by remaining, and the
writer, sick at heart, went back to Atchison county; but he afterwards
returned to see the blackened ruins of the desolated town.

On May 21st the monster _posse_, led on by Marshal Donaldson and
Deputy Marshal Fain, gathered around the doomed city. The town was
quiet--unusually so. Deputy Marshal Fain went into the city and
arrested G. W. Deitzler, G. W. Smith and Gains Jenkins, on the charge
of treason. The Marshal went to the Free State hotel, that they were
soon to batter down, and got his dinner, _and went away without paying
for it._ And now the opportune moment had arrived for the final
_denouement_. Sheriff Jones--the mourned and lost and murdered and
much-lamented Sheriff Jones--whose tragic death had fired the hearts
of all the Missouri border, now put in an appearance and showed
himself a mighty lively corpse, and led his _posse_ into the town. The
flag of the lone star of South Carolina, blood-red, and on which was
inscribed the motto, "Southern Rights," floated beside the Stars and
Stripes. The monster _posse_, with loaded cannon, marched into the
city and in front of the Free State hotel, and the "Committee of the
Public Safety Valve" was called for. Mr. Pomeroy came forward and
shook hands with Sheriff Jones--should not _gentlemen_ shake hands
when they meet? Sheriff Jones demanded the arms of the people,
otherwise he would bombard the town. Mr. Pomeroy went and dug up the
cannon that had been buried, and surrendered it to Jones. But further
than this he could not go: _the people had their arms, and intended to
keep them_. Then they tried to batter down the Free State hotel with
cannon. Failing in this, they tried to blow it up with powder; and,
failing in that, they burned it down. They also destroyed the two
printing presses, burning the buildings, and then sacked the town.

Sheriff Jones was beside himself with joy. In frantic excitement he
said, "I have done it! I have done it! This is the happiest moment of
my life! I determined to make the fanatics bow before me in the dust
and kiss the Territorial laws, and I have done it! The writs have been
executed. Boys, you are dismissed." It will be doing Senator David R.
Atchison, Ex-Vice-President of the United States, a kindness to
conclude simply that he was drunk, otherwise he displayed utter
savagery and barbarism. He inculcated gallantry to ladies, but said:
"If you find any woman with arms in her hands, tread her under foot as
you would a snake." The Caucassian white woman of Lawrence had no more
rights of self-protection than the slaves of a South Carolina rice
plantation--they were wholly and absolutely at the mercy of their
masters!

We have no comments to make on the work of this drunken rabble; but
there is one man that must be held to a terrible responsibility before
the judgment-seat of posterity. Gov. Wilson Shannon was not drunk: and
it is to be presumed he had read that Constitution of the United
States which he had so often sworn to support. He knew, therefore,
that this document stipulates:

1. "That the right of the people to _keep_ and bear arms shall not be
infringed;" yet he showed a fixed purpose to deprive the Lawrence
people of their arms.

2. The Governor knew that the Constitution guarantees "freedom of
speech and of the press" to the American people; yet the burning of
these printing presses was an attack on the freedom of the press.

3. The Constitution guarantees that "in all criminal prosecutions the
accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial." Property
of large value was destroyed because its owners were charged with high
crimes and misdemeanors; yet the owners of this property had never
been given a trial.

4. Gov. Shannon alleged that it was treasonable for the people of
Kansas Territory to frame a State Constitution without an enabling act
from Congress; yet California had done this very thing, and under that
Constitution had been admitted as a State.

5. He treated the Free State men as traitors, because they would not
admit the legality of the Lecompton Territorial Legislature. But the
majority of the Investigating Committee held the same view with the
Lawrence people, and Congress affirmed the same judgment in
permanently unseating Mr. Whitfield as Territorial delegate to
Congress.

Would that men could remember that there is a _hereafter_; that
_to-morrow_ forever sits in judgment on _to-day._ There are three men
most conspicuous in the sacking of Lawrence. Let us look at them in
the electric light of the awful _to-morrow._ Since the Kansas struggle
had begun David R. Atchison had made himself the most conspicuous
figure. He was the representative of the John C. Calhoun school of
Southern politics, and from the hour of the destruction of Lawrence he
was to disappear from public view, as absolutely as that Free State
hotel which was burned by his orders; yet he did not die--he was
simply _buried alive_ out of the public sight. He was done with the
nation, and the nation was done with him. He went back and lived on
his plantation in Western Missouri, where he was forgotten. It is said
he loved his slaves so well, and petted them so much, that they became
masters on the plantation, and not himself. He lived to see Kansas a
free State, with almost a million of inhabitants, and fairly taking
the lead of Missouri in the elements of education, enterprise, and the
highest civilization.

We have seen the crawling servility with which Gov. Shannon served the
"Law and Order" party; yet in less than three months he was to see
his office as Governor go up in smoke, as these burning buildings had
gone up in smoke. Mr. S. became frantic when he saw the carnival of
bloodshed and murder, of riot and robbery, that had been brought about
by his means. Dr. Gihon, the incoming Gov. Geary's private secretary,
reported that Mr. Shannon fled the Territory in fear of his life. When
the troubles were over he came to Kansas and sought the pity and
forgiveness of that city he had turned over to the tender mercies of a
mob of ruffians. It need not be said that he could have done no
better, for his successor, Gov. Geary, had only to speak a word and
this tumult of disorder was instantly hushed.

As the years went by the people could not believe that a man that
displayed so many good and amiable qualities could have been a party
to such outrages as characterized his administration. He died in
Lawrence very much respected.

Sheriff Samuel J. Jones strutted his brief hour on this stage in which
the play had been both a bloodcurdling tragedy and a comedy; and now
he was to step down and out. In the last act he had said, "_I have
done it!" And he had done it_! He and his fellow conspirators, whether
of high or low degree, had set in operation a train of causes that
should issue in abolishing throughout the United States that
institution of slavery they had so frantically sought to establish in
Kansas.

Joseph said to his brethren, "You meant it for evil, but the Lord
meant it for good." _Sheriff Jones and his fellow conspirators were in
the Lord's hands, but they did not know it_.



CHAPTER XVI.

When the news came of the sacking of Lawrence, the great mass of the
squatters had not yet lost faith in the nation, nor had they lost hope
that justice would be done, tardy though it might be; but the utmost
limits of human endurance were fast being reached. There were,
however, many that had already gone beyond this point, and they
returned an answer that made the hearts of the people stand still with
horror. It was the answer of a wild beast that had been hunted to its
lair, and that turns with savage ferocity on its pursuers. It was an
answer framed not in words, but in deeds. It said, "We have come to
an end. We have been robbed of the rights guaranteed to us by the
Kansas-Nebraska bill. We have been robbed of the rights of American
citizens. We have been given the alternative of abject and degrading
submission or of extermination. And now we make our answer. We will
return blow for blow, wound for wound, stripe for stripe, and burning
for burning. Murder shall be paid back with murder, robbery with
robbery; and every act of aggression shall be paid back with swift and
terrible retaliation." It must be remembered that at that time news
traveled slow, and that it was slow work to take men from their
ordinary farm life and organize them into bands of soldiers, and it
was some days before "Old John Brown, of Osawatomie," appeared on the
scene of conflict with a company of men. Of this company his son, John
Brown, Jr., was captain. But the "old man" had come too late. He was
terribly excited, and denounced as a set of cowards the "Committee of
the Public Safety Valve" that had dug up the hidden cannon and had
surrendered it to Sheriff Jones. Captain Brown and his company
determined to return. Old John Brown selected a squad of six men to go
on a secret expedition. Of these, four were his own sons, and one was
his son-in-law. His son, Captain Brown, was unwilling that his father
should go, and when the old man would not be persuaded, he cautioned
him, "Father, don't do anything rash." "Old John Brown" took old man
Doyle and two sons and two other men in the dead hour of night and put
them to death. The facts of this awful deed have never been made
public--there has never been a judicial investigation. It is said that
Doyle and his sons were desperate characters, and were in the act of
driving off Free State men; but nothing is certainly known.

And now it appeared that the whole country south of the Kaw River was
full of armed Free State guerrilla bands. They rose up out of the
earth as if they had been specters--their blows were swift, terrible
and remorseless. They visited and robbed the houses of Pro-slavery
men, as the houses of the Free State men had been visited and robbed.
They stole the Pro-slavery men's horses, stopped them on the public
highways, and repeated in every detail and in every act of violence
the cruel atrocities that had been so long perpetrated on themselves.
They showed no partiality--if they stole the horses of Pro-slavery
men, they also stole Gov. Shannon's horses, and the Governor posted
over the country with a squad of soldiers to find them. The town of
Franklin, six miles from Lawrence, that had been a rendezvous for the
"Law and Order" robbers, and out of which they issued to visit Free
State settlers' houses, rob Free State men on the public highway and
make raids on Lawrence, was cleaned out. H. Clay Pate, leader of a
"Law and Order" company of militia, went to hunt John Brown and put
him to death as he would go to hunt a wild beast. An African lion
hunter, when questioned, "Is it not fine sport to hunt lions?"
replied, "Yes, it is fine sport to hunt lions, but if the lion hunts
you it is not so fine." H. Clay Pate went to hunt the lion, and found
the lion was hunting him. John Brown attacked Pate with an inferior
force, dispersed his command, and took him prisoner, together with
twenty-eight of his men, and kept them in an inaccessible fastness
which he made his hiding place. A number of Pro-slavery men fled from
the Territory, telling everywhere a blood-curdling story of hard and
cruel treatment. The people of the State of Missouri were filled with
rage and horror, and its presses groaned with frantic appeals to the
people to rise in their might and avenge the blood of their murdered
brethren. Hitherto they had witnessed with perfect composure the
savage butchery of the Free State men, and the outrage of Free State
families; but now the case was bravely altered. It was their ox that
was being gored.

Gov. Shannon passed as usual from the extreme of insolence to the
extreme of helpless imbecility, and called on Col. Sumner to come
forward and put a stop to this riot of confusion, blood-shedding and
violence. The Governor really wanted Col. S. to disarm only the Free
State guerrillas; but Mr. S. made a more liberal interpretation of his
orders, and proceeded to disarm all armed bands in the Territory. He
visited Old John Brown's hiding place, told him he must consider
himself under arrest, and intimated to Deputy Marshal Fain that he was
at liberty to arrest these men, who were under charge of murder. But
the Marshal replied _that he had no arrests to make_. Marshal Fain had
no stomach for the business of lion hunting. It is said that Col. S.
gave Marshal Fain a piece of his mind that was more explicit than
polite.

Col. Sumner ordered John Brown to give up his prisoners, and disband
his men. John Brown expostulated with him, that it was not right to
require him to do this, while the country was full of armed bands of
Pro-slavery militia and guerrillas. Col. S. agreed to disband and
disarm all companies of persons armed, and then John Brown agreed to
comply with his requests. Gen. Whitfield was in the vicinity, and at
the request of Col. S. agreed to remove his men from the Territory;
but while doing this they continued the business of riot, robbery and
murder.

Thus wearily passed the month of June of 1856, on the south bank of
the Kaw River. The coming Fourth of July was looked forward to with
intense interest by both parties, and on the north side of the Kaw
River, as well as on its south side. The Fourth of July was the day on
which the Legislature, elected under the Free State Constitution, was
to meet at Topeka; and on that day, and at that place, a mass
convention of all the Free State men in Kansas had also been called to
meet and agree on their future policy. Col. Sumner had at least done
this good service, that the highways were clear, and traveling was
safe; but not knowing what might happen, the men generally carried
their muskets hidden in their wagons. The writer of these
"Recollections" went to Topeka with the Free State men of Atchison
county. At this convention it appeared that there was the greatest
possible divergence of judgment as to the best policy for the Free
State party to pursue. There was nothing of the noise and bluster that
characterizes a drunken mob; they were sober and quiet men;
nevertheless, they evidently labored under an intense and burning
excitement. Some were for war, bloody, relentless and unforgiving war;
others advised a more pacific policy. If the reader can imagine the
savage determination with which the old Scotch Covenanters turned at
bay when hunted into their mountain fastnesses by their bloody
persecutors, then he will have some idea of the spirit that animated a
great part of that assembly. Two companies of soldiers, handsomely
equipped, armed and drilled, one from Topeka and one from Lawrence,
were drawn up in front of the Topeka House, where the Free State
Legislature was to meet. It is probable that this crowd of men
assembled at this convention could have laid their hands on five
hundred muskets hidden away in their wagons, in ten minutes.

Meanwhile Col. Sumner had quietly drawn up his company of dragoons
just outside of the crowd. In front of the dragoons were two loaded
cannon, and by them grimly stood soldiers with burning fuse. While the
members of the convention were discussing among themselves their
proper policy, United States Marshal Donaldson came forward,
accompanied by Judge El-more, and taking possession of the stand from
which the speakers were addressing the people, Judge El-more read a
proclamation from the President and from acting Gov. Woodson,
commanding the Legislature to disperse.

To this Col. Sumner had appended the following note: "The
proclamation of the President and the orders under it require me to
sustain the Executive of the Territory in executing the laws and
preserving the peace. I therefore hereby announce that I shall
maintain the proclamation at all hazards."

This act of Marshal Donaldson was fiercely denounced as an impertinent
intermedding with other men's business. The general drift of the
reasoning was as follows: "Our act in framing a constitution and in
electing a legislature is not treasonable nor revolutionary. There is
no law against it: consequently we are breaking no law. It is,
moreover, something that has to be done at some time by the majority
of the citizens of this Territory, and we hope to be able to convince
Congress and the President that we are that majority. If we had
undertaken to set in operation a government in contravention to the
one now recognized by the President, then might there have been some
apology for this interference; but we have done nothing of the kind."

The writer will say to the reader that Gov. Walker, an ex-Senator from
Mississippi, and the ablest Governor Kansas ever had, admitted
afterwards that this reasoning of the Kansas squatters was perfectly
correct. But however this might be, here was a patent fact. Here was
Col. Sumner with his United States dragoons, and he was a man to obey
orders; and what were we going to do about it? Should we fight, or
should we not fight? The writer submitted the following resolution:

_Resolved_, That this Convention expresses its
determination not to resist the United States troops.

The resolution was carried, and a committee was sent to Col. Sumner to
inform him of its adoption. His answer was one to draw the hearts of
the people to himself: "I knew," said he, "that you were loyal to the
old flag."

Our readers will be incredulous that such a resolution should be
needed, or that there should be any division of sentiment as touching
its adoption. It is for this reason we call this incident up. It is
that the reader may understand how strained was the state of feeling
of many of the Free State men. They had spent the past months
fighting, and they, in their own minds, associated the United States
troops with the oppressors of Kansas Free State men.

When Mr. Sumner went into the Legislative hall to disperse the
Legislature, he spoke as tenderly as a woman. He said: "Gentlemen,
this is the most painful act of my life But I must obey orders, and
you must disperse." When he wheeled his dragoons to march away the
boys cheered Col. Sumner. They cheered the old flag and the United
States soldiers, but they gave such groans for the Lecompton
Legislature as, it was said, frightened the dragoons' horses.

There was now no further cause that the writer should tarry longer,
and he immediately mounted his horse and rode towards home, with a
heart heavy with the thought of all the distempers that had come on
unhappy Kansas.



CHAPTER XVII.

We have already told how the campaign was opened, in the spring of
1856, in Atchison county, in a letter which we at that time addressed
to the editor of the _Herald of Freedom_. This paper was printed at
Lawrence, on the printing press destroyed by the "Law and Order" mob.
The weekly issue in which this letter was published was passing
through the press on the day the town was sacked, one side having been
printed, the other side being yet blank. Then the Border Ruffians came
into the town, broke up the press and threw it into the river, and
tumbled the half printed weekly issue into the street. The above-named
article was on the printed side, and was read by the whole crowd, and
they were terribly angry. If the writer had been in town he certainly
would not have escaped alive, if this mob could have found him. As it
was, their curses would not be edifying reading in a Christian
newspaper. Lecompton could not give its friends food or lodging. It
had been located in an out-of-the-way and inaccessible place; its
proprietors were Sheriff Jones, Judge Lecompton, and men of that
_ilk,_ and business men avoided the place as if it had been smitten
with a pestilence. The people of the surrounding country were
generally Free State men, and the South Carolinians could not choose,
but were forced to return to Atchison. They had been angry and
impatient when their friends in Atchison had constrained them to do
things up in such "milk and water" style, and in Lawrence they had
been held back in the same manner, and they returned in a savage
temper. Should a cowardly Yankee be allowed to defy them, and scoff at
them, and call them "bull-dogs and blood-hounds," with impunity? and
now, with this man they had to have a settlement.

We have already seen how the contending factions spread murder and
violence south of the Kaw River; but from May till September
Leavenworth county became a "dark and bloody ground." Immediately
after the Fourth of July, Col. Sumner had been, because of his too
great leniency to Free State men, superseded in command at Fort
Leavenworth by Persifer F. Smith, a man whose heart was hard as
a rock of adamant toward the Free State people, and under his eyes
Leavenworth city and county were given up to blood and robbery.

In Atchison county, from the beginning of these border troubles to the
end of them, not one man's life was taken, and yet David R. Atchison,
Gen. B. F. Stringfellow, and his law partner, Peter T. Abell, were the
leading members of the Atchison town company. Robert S. Kelley and Dr.
John H. Stringfellow also maintained unchanged their bloody purposes.
We find in the _Squatter Sovereign_, under date of June 10th, the
following editorial, and this displays its uniform temper:

The Abolitionist: shoot down our men, without provocation,
wherever they meet them; let us retaliate in the same
manner. A free fight is all we desire. If murder and
assassination is the programme of the day, we are in favor
of filling the bill. Let not the knives of the Pro-slavery
men be sheathed while there is one Abolitionist in the
Territory. As they have shown no quarters to our men, they
deserve none from us. Let our motto be written in blood on
our flags, "_Death to all Yankees and traitors in
Kansas_."

Why, then, were not these bloody counsels made good by deeds? Our
circumstances were peculiar. It will be seen above that it was only
the Yankees and Abolitionists in whose bodies the knives of the "Law
and Order" party were to be sheathed; and the Yankees in the country
were only a handful of men, and were therefore powerless; but between
them and these bloody-minded chieftains was interposed a barrier that
proved insurmountable. The great mass of the squatters were just from
the other side of the river. Sometimes a son had left a father, and
crossed the river to get a claim; or a brother had left his brother,
or a girl had married a young man in the neighborhood, and as the
young folks were poor, they had left the old folks and had gone to
seek their fortune in the new Territory. Of course the old folks would
still have a care for the young couple. They were in easy reach of
each other, and would still visit back and forth. Now who does not see
that to touch any one of these was to touch all? It was like touching
a nest of hornets. The reader will observe that these people had no
quarrel with the people of the South: they were bone of their bone and
flesh of their flesh. Neither had they any special quarrel with
Southern institutions; only this, that they would rather live in a
free State. They did feel that way, and they could not help it. But in
one thing they had been sorely wounded. In the invasion of Kansas, and
in the carrying the elections by violence, their personal rights had
been invaded, and they did resent that. And now here were some Yankee
neighbors whom they knew to be kindly and peaceable people, and whose
help they needed in building up their churches; and yet these were to
be murdered or driven out of the Territory _for nothing!_ and it
touched their Southern blood. It was neither just nor right, and they
would not allow it; and in such an issue there would be a common bond
of sympathy on both sides of the river. Moreover, such men as Oliver
Steele, Judge Tutt and the Irvings and Harts and Christophers had
grave misgivings what would be the final issue of this system of
murder and violence that had been adopted to make Kansas a slave
State.

And so it was that the leaders in this conspiracy, right here in this
city and county of Atchison, which was their headquarters, found
themselves strangely embarrassed and handicapped. Their will was good
enough, but how to carry out their purpose?--that was the pinch. A
private assassination was a thing that looked easy enough at the first
sight, but it might turn out that they had undertaken an ugly job for
themselves.

A meeting of the Disciples was held at the house of Archibald Elliott
in the month of June. It was called quietly, and no noise made about
it. There was a large attendance, and it was evident that if we could
hold regular meetings great good would be done. But the neighborhood
was soon filled with alarming rumors. It was said that a company of
South Carolinians were seen to go into a grove of bushes, about
nightfall, where the writer would be expected to pass, and that they
were seen to emerge from the same place the next morning. One event,
however, adjourned our meetings without date. There was a man living
in the western part of the county named Barnett, who was a man of
considerable attainment, and had been a member of the Christian
Church. But he was given to drink. His wife, however, who was an
excellent Christian woman, remained steadfast to the church, and
Barnett, as he saw his hold on the church and his hope of heaven
slipping away from him, clung the more loyally to his wife, as though
her Christian excellencies would save them both. At her request he
invited me to preach a sermon at his house, and I consented. But when
the South Carolinians in Atchison heard of it, they sent an insulting
message to Barnett that they would come and shoot me. Barnett's
Southern blood was all on fire. Who were these men that had come to
Atchison county to ride rough-shod over him in his own house? He sent
a message equally defiant back to them, that if they did come he and
his neighbors would shoot them. But there was one man in the county
that needed to have no nervousness as touching his reputation for
personal bravery. That man was Caleb May; and he interposed and said:
"Let us wait patiently for more peaceful times. The Son of man did not
come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." But this adjourned
without date our meetings.

One incident must illustrate the strained and peculiar condition of
affairs in Atchison county. Archimedes Speck lived on the Stranger
Creek, several miles below the residence of the writer. He was a man
of magnificent physical development, and was a pronounced Free State
man. His wife's people originally came from North Carolina, and she
was proud of her Southern blood; and the husband and wife did not come
to Kansas to be run over by anybody. Yet they were eminently peaceable
people, if let alone. These gentlemen in Atchison had determined to
disarm the Free State people living in the country; and Mr. Speck,
being a Free State man, open and avowed, they called on him, but he
was not at home. They therefore asked his wife: "Has your husband a
rifle, musket, or fire-arms of any kind?" She brought out an old Queen
Anne's musket, as rusty and worn as if it had been in service ever
since the Revolutionary war. But while they were inspecting the rusty
old thing, whether it was worth carrying away, she took from a closet
a bran span new double-barrel fowling-piece, and, putting her finger
on the trigger, she said, "Now, sir, if you do not lay down that
musket and leave the house, I will shoot you." If this gentleman had
suddenly roused up a female tiger, he would not have been more
terror-stricken than when he found himself facing this woman, blazing
with scorn and irrepressible resentment, and he concluded he did not
want the rusty old musket, _and did not ask to examine the other one._

Mr. S. had threatened to flog one of his Pro-slavery neighbors who had
insulted him, as he alleged, and the man went to Atchison and made
oath that he was in fear of his life, and the Sheriff was sent out
with a warrant to arrest Mr. Speck. But at this time Leavenworth
county was full of murder and bloodshed; guerrilla parties, both Free
State and Pro-slavery, were fighting in many parts of the Territory,
and Lane had returned, and was leading the Free State men in this
warfare, and had threatened with many oaths to wipe out Atchison, and
there were rumors that he was already near at hand. And so, to provide
against all contingencies, the Sheriff was accompanied by a _posse_ of
forty armed men, who took with them a cannon which had been loaned to
Atchison by the people of Missouri.

Mrs. Speck received the Sheriff graciously, explained to him that her
husband was absent, but would soon return, but to all questions as
touching his present whereabouts, she shook her head mysteriously and
refused to explain. The thing looked suspicious. Was it possible that
Lane was even now in the neighborhood? and the Sheriff went back to
his _posse_ to hold a council of war. He had stationed them on a high
bluff on the north bank of the Stranger Creek, and, looking across the
wide timbered bottom to the opposite bluff, they could dimly see a
large number of objects approaching through the brush-wood. What could
it be? Was it Lane coming to attack him? And now two horsemen emerged
from the brush and rode on a full gallop down the bluff.

"It is Lane! It is Lane!" they cried. "Let us ride back to Atchison
and get ready to defend the town," and on a gallop they skedaddled
back to Atchison.

Mr. Speck had been with some of his neighbors to bring home a herd of
cattle. An old cow had broken from the herd, intending to get back to
her former grazing ground, and Mr. Speck and his neighbors had ridden
full gallop to head her off. On reaching home, and learning of the
visit of the Sheriff, he went at once to Atchison to give bonds to
keep the peace; and to make all things square, he took with him the
rusty old musket and proffered it to the gentleman that had been so
solicitous to get it. Mr. Speck assured him that Mrs. S. was now
willing he should have it, and _would not shoot him if he took it_.

These gentlemen had been making money out of pocket. They had been
frightened out of their wits by a spunky woman; and forty armed men,
with a loaded cannon, had been stampeded and made to run pell-mell
into Atchison by a herd of cattle and two or three men on horseback,
riding at full gallop after an old cow.

These men had undertaken to do a wicked thing, and had been made
ridiculous in doing so; and this contributed largely to that
revolution in the public opinion of the county, which had been going
on for eighteen months, and which at the last compelled a radical
change in the policy of these "Border Ruffian" leaders. But this
again gave the chiefs of this conspiracy abundant experience that it
pays to do right, and that a good Providence had brought them
prosperity and honor by defeating their original counsels and turning
them into foolishness.

But first we must tell of the carnival of riot, ruin, and robbing that
had been going on in other parts of the Territory.



CHAPTER XVIII.

The _Squatter Sovereign_, in its issue of July 1st, made the following
announcement:

The steamer, Star of the West, having on board
seventy-eight Chicago Abolitionists, was overhauled at
Lexington, Mo., and the company disarmed. A large number
of rifles and pistols were taken at Lexington, and a guard
sent upon the boat, to prevent them from landing in the
Territory. After leaving Lexington, it was ascertained
that they had not given up all arms, but still held
possession of a great number of bowie knives and pistols,
which were probably secreted while the search was going on
at Lexington. At Leavenworth City, Captain Clarkson, with
twenty-five men, went on board of the boat and demanded
the surrender of all the arms in the possession of the
Abolitionists. Like whipped dogs they sneaked up to
Clarkson and laid down their weapons to him.

The men thus robbed of their arms give the following version of the
matter: They say that at Lexington they were taken by surprise; that
their arms were not accessible to them, and that there was nothing to
do but to yield. But that a pledge was made to them, that if they
would give up their arms, they should be allowed to proceed peaceably
to Kansas. They furthermore state that at Kansas City Col. Buford came
aboard the boat, accompanied by a company of soldiers; that David R.
Atchison and Gen. B. F. Stringfellow came on board, and that after the
boat had left the landing these gentlemen informed them that they
would in no wise be allowed to enter the Territory; that after the
boat had stopped at Weston, they should be taken back to Alton; but
that if they would not accept this arrangement, "they should be hung,
every mother's son of them."

At various times the _Squatter Sovereign_ and _Leavenworth Herald_
report similar outrages. The latter paper reports, July 5th, the
sending back seventy-five emigrants that had come upon the steamer
Sultan. In reference to this occurrence, the _Squatter Sovereign_
makes the following remark:

We do not fully approve of sending these criminals back to
the East, to be reshipped to Kansas--if not through
Missouri, through Iowa and Nebraska. We think they should
meet a traitor's death; and the world could not censure us
if we, in self-protection, have to resort to such ultra
measures. We are of the opinion that if the citizens of
Leavenworth city, or Weston, would _hang_ one or two
boatloads of Abolitionists, it would do more towards
establishing peace in Kansas than all the speeches that
have been delivered in Congress during the present
session. _Let the experiment be tried_.

The Missouri River was thus blockaded against the incoming of
emigrants from the free States, and this created intense excitement
throughout the North. The result was, that the immigration to Kansas,
instead of being diminished, was largely increased; but it changed its
direction, and Iowa City became the _entrepôt_ for the incoming tide
of free State settlers, which now sought an overland route through
Iowa and Nebraska, and began to reach Kansas about the 1st of August.

The leaders of the Pro-slavery party made a pathetic appeal to the
people of the South to send a corresponding class of emigrants; but
the appeal was feebly responded to. Slave-holders would not come,
because their slaves would be insecure; and now slave-holders felt
that they had small cause to come to fight a battle that was not
theirs.

Gov. Shannon held the scepter of power with a more and more feeble
hand. He was going to resign, and he was not going to resign. But
whether he did or did not resign, the substance of power had already
passed into the hands of his secretary, Mr. Woodson, who was hand and
glove with his fellows in this conspiracy to make Kansas a slave
State.

Meantime Col. Sumner had been superseded in command at Fort
Leavenworth by Persifer F. Smith. Col. Sumner had obeyed orders like
the brave soldier that he was, but he had shown too much sympathy for
these victims of oppression in the discharge of his shameful duties. [5]
He did his appointed work, but he did not do it with an appetite, and
he had been succeeded by a man that felt no more pity toward the Free
State people than the wolf feels for the lamb out of which he makes
his breakfast. The consequences of this state of affairs began soon to
appear. The Missouri River had been blockaded. Trains sent to
Leavenworth from Lawrence and Topeka were robbed on the public highway
of the merchandise and provisions with which they were loaded, and
these interior Free State settlements began to feel the sharp pressure
of hard necessities, while they a third time saw companies of
so-called "Law and Order" militia occupying various points in the
Territory which these men proceeded to fortify, and from which they
could overawe the inhabitants and make raids on the citizens; and
thus the old business of robbery, murder, spoliation and oppression
was again begun.

And now this new immigration of a squatter soldiery, who came bearing
their muskets in one hand and their implements of husbandry in the
other, and were perfectly indifferent whether it should be work or
fight, came pouring over the Nebraska line and into Kansas Territory.
A feeble attempt was made to stop them, but it amounted to nothing.
They were not now on a Missouri River steamboat. Jim Lane came with
them. He remained _incognito_ a few days, and then threw off his
disguise, and Capt. Joe Cook was Jim Lane. And now the old, hard rule
of the law of Moses, "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,"
was again the law of Kansas. It was, "You have robbed us, and we will
rob you; you have subsisted yourselves upon us, and we will subsist
ourselves on you; you have blockaded the Missouri River, and waylaid
our freighting trains, and pillaged them of their freight, with intent
to starve out the Free State people, and all that belongs to you and
yours shall be free plunder to us."

The places that had been fortified by this "Law and Order" militia
were one by one stormed and the garrisons driven off. Franklin was a
second time attacked and its occupants taken prisoners. Col. Titus had
fortified his residence in the suburbs of Lecompton, and here he kept
a company of men that made raids on the surrounding Free State
inhabitants. This fort was taken by assault, and Col. Titus and his
men were taken prisoners, while Major Sedjwick, with a company of
United States troops, was encamped only two miles away. The citizens
of Lecompton were frightened out of their wits, and Gov. Shannon was
found under the bank of the Kansas River, badly demoralized, and
trying to get across the river on an old scow, and thus escape the
danger. He came the next day to Lawrence, accompanied by Maj.
Sedjwick, to make peace and negotiate an exchange of prisoners, He
announced this as his last official act, and exhorted the people in a
speech he made to them, to live in peace with each other, while they
shouted in angry retort, "Give us back Barber and the men that have
been murdered under your rule."

But in spite of all these reverses that had come upon the "Law and
Order" party, they still had faith that Providence is on the side of
the heaviest battalions, and that they would yet succeed in driving
out these Free State rebels; and they proceeded to raise, along the
Missouri border, a larger army than it would be possible for the Free
State people to raise. Did they not have on their side the President
and his Cabinet? Was not Congress on their side? Was not Persifer F.
Smith, Commandant at Fort Leavenworth, at least indifferent to all
their deeds of violence? And more and better, Woodson had succeeded
Shannon as acting Governor, and it would be a bad day that should not
see the full fruition of their hopes.

But there was one thought to mar their otherwise perfect joy, just as
Providence always pours a drop of bitterness into every cup. A
Governor unfriendly to their purposes might be appointed, and it
became them, therefore, to make hay while the sun was shining. They,
therefore, addressed the following pathetic appeal to the people of
the South:

We have asked the appointment of a successor who was
acquainted with our condition; who, a citizen of our
Territory, identified with its interests, familiar with
its history, would not be prejudiced or misled by the
falsehoods which have been so systematically fabricated
against us.

In his stead we have one appointed who is ignorant of our
condition, a stranger to our people; who we have too much
cause to fear will, if no worse, prove no more efficient
to protect us than his predecessors.

With, then, a government which has proved imbecile, has
failed to enforce the laws for our protection, with our
army of lawless banditti overturning our country--what
shall we do?

Though we have full confidence in the integrity and
fidelity of Mr. Woodson, now acting as Governor, we know
not at what moment his authority will be suspended. We can
not await the convenience of the incoming of the newly
appointed Governor. We can not hazard a second edition of
imbecility or corruption.

We must act at once, and effectively. These traitors,
assassins, and robbers must be punished; must now be
taught a lesson they will remember.

It is, then, not only the right, but the duty of all good
citizens of Missouri and every other State to come to our
assistance, and enable us to expel these invaders.

Mr. Woodson, since the resignation of Governor Shannon,
has fearlessly met the responsibilities of the trust
forced upon him, has proclaimed the existence of the
rebellion, and called on the militia of the Territory to
assemble for its suppression.

We call on you to come, to furnish us assistance in men,
provisions, and munitions, that we may drive out the army
of the North, who would subvert our government and expel
us from our homes.



CHAPTER XIX.

Gov. Shannon left the Territory a disgraced and ruined man. He had
proved himself, both to the Free State party and the Law and Order
party, a broken staff that pierces the hand of him that leans on it.
Mr. Woodson, who took his place as acting Governor, showed himself
hale fellow well met with such spirits as Sheriff Jones and Judge
Lecompte; and this faction made piteous appeals to the Great Father at
Washington to give them a man after their own heart, and this they
found in John Calhoun, Surveyor-General of Kansas and Nebraska, whose
official patronage made him a man of considerable influence, and whose
freighting outfit, kept for his peculiar business, would have made him
eminently useful to this party in the transportation of military
stores. But their appeal had been denied them, and instead of
Surveyor-General Calhoun, Mr. Geary, of Pennsylvania, had been
appointed.

That great party, of which the President was the official head, was
convulsed with such internal feuds and contentions, consequent on
these very Kansas troubles, as threatened its existence. A
Presidential election was pending, and attention must be paid to this
fact, rather than to the desperate schemes of this Kansas faction.
John W. Geary was, therefore, announced as the appointee of the
President. Mr. G. came with high claims to public favor. He had passed
through the Mexican war with honor; he had discharged high public
trust in California with such fidelity and skill as won for him a
distinguished reputation. He was the friend, and almost the neighbor,
of the incoming President, James Buchanan, and he enjoyed the
confidence of the outgoing President, Franklin Pierce; and was
closeted with him and with his Secretary of State, Mr. Marcy, before
leaving Washington. That nothing might be wanting to his success, he
spent a day at Jefferson City, Mo., with Gov. Sterling Price, and with
him arranged to have the blockade removed from the Missouri River.

Mr. Geary met at Glasgow, Mo., the retiring ex-Governor, and Dr. Gihon
reports that he was fleeing in terror that his life would be taken by
the men for whom he had been such an abject tool.

While these parting ceremonies were being performed a
steamboat bound down the river, and directly from Kansas,
came along side the Keystone. Ex-Governor Shannon was a
passenger, who, upon learning the close proximity of Gov.
Geary, sought an immediate interview with him. The
ex-Governor was greatly agitated. He had fled in haste and
terror from the Territory, and still seemed laboring under
an apprehension for his personal safety. His description
of Kansas was suggestive of everything that is frightful
and horrible. Its condition was deplorable in the extreme.
The whole Territory was in a state of insurrection, and a
destructive civil war was devastating the country. Murder
ran rampant, and the roads were everywhere strewn with the
bodies of slaughtered men.

Dr. Gihon afterwards published a small volume of 348 pages, from which
the preceding extract has been taken. The work is entitled "Governor
Geary's Administration in Kansas." This work does not bear the sign
manual of Gov. Geary, but as it was written by the Governor's private
secretary, it must be taken as an authentic statement of what these
gentlemen saw with their own eyes, and heard with their own ears, as
touching the condition of things in the Territory. Dr. Gihon gives the
following testimony concerning the troubles in and around Leavenworth
and their cause:

After the removal of Shannon on the 21st of August, when
Secretary Woodson became acting Governor until the arrival
of Gov. Geary in September, the belligerents had matters
pretty much their own way, and the ruffians improved the
time, under pretense of authority from Woodson, to
perpetrate with impunity the most shocking barbarities.

During this time Gen. Smith received much censure from the
Free State people. Emory, Wilkes, Stringfellow and others
were driving these from their homes in Leavenworth, and
many of them fled in terror for protection within the
enclosures of the fort; when the General caused hand-bills
to be posted over the grounds commanding them to leave
before a certain specified time, and gave orders to his
subordinates to enforce this command. These unfortunate
people, among whom were men of the highest respectability,
and even women and children, were compelled, some of them
without money or suitable clothing, to take to the
prairies, exposed at every step to the danger of being
murdered by scouting or marauding parties, or at the risk
of their lives effect their escape upon the downward-bound
boats. Some of these were shot in the attempt upon the
river banks, whilst others were seized at Kansas City and
other Missouri towns, brought back as prisoners, and
disposed of in such a manner as will only be made known at
that great day when all human mysteries will be revealed.

Captain Frederick Emory, a United States Mail Contractor,
rendered himself conspicuous in Leavenworth at the head of
a band of ruffians mostly from Western Missouri. They
entered houses, stores and dwellings of Free State people,
and in the name of "Law and Order" abused and robbed the
occupants, and drove them out into the roads, Irrespective
of age, sex or condition. Under pretense of searching for
arms, they approached the house of William Phillips, the
lawyer who had been previously tarred and feathered and
carried to Missouri. Phillips, supposing he was to be
subjected to a similar outrage, and resolved not to submit
to the indignity, stood upon his defense. In repelling the
assaults of the mob, he killed two of them, when the
others burst into the house, and poured a volley of balls
into his body, killing him instantly in the presence of
his wife and another lady. His brother, who was also
present, had an ana broken with bullets, and was compelled
to submit to an amputation. Fifty of the Free State
prisoners were then driven on board the Polar Star, bound
for St. Louis. On the next day a hundred more were
embarked by Emory and his men on the steamboat Emma.

At this time civil war raged in all the populous
districts. Womi n and children had fled from the
Territory. No man's life was safe, and every person, when
he lay down to rest at night, bolted and barred his doors,
and fell asleep grasping firmly his pistol, gun or knife.

Emory's company were all mounted on "pressed" horses, the
owners of some of which were present to point out and
claim them; but as there existed no courts or judges from
whom the necessary legal process could be obtained, and as
Gen. Smith would not listen to their complaints, they had
no means by which to recover their property.

Emory and his company held their headquarters at
Leavenworth City, whence they sallied into the surrounding
country to "press," _not steal,_ the horses, cattle,
wagons and other property of Free State men. It was during
these excursions that Major Sackett, of the United States
Army, found in the road near Leavenworth City a number of
the bodies of men who had been seized, robbed, murdered
and mutilated, and left unburied by the wayside.

On the 17th of August, 1856, a shocking affair occurred in
the neighborhood of Leavenworth. Two ruffians sat at a
table in a low groggery, imbibing potations of bad whisky.
One of them, named Fugert, bet his companion six dollars
against a pair of boots that he would go out and in less
than two hours bring in the scalp of an Abolitionist. He
went into the road, and, meeting a Mr. Hoppe, who was in
his carriage just returning to Leavenworth from a visit to
Lawrence, where he had conveyed his wife, Fugert
deliberately shot him; then, taking out his bowie knife,
whilst his victim was still alive, he cut and tore off his
scalp from his quivering head. Leaving the body of Hoppe
lying in the road, he elevated his bloody trophy upon a
pole, and paraded it through the streets of Leavenworth.
On the same day a teamster, who was approaching
Leavenworth, was murdered and scalped by another human
monster.

A poor German, when the scalp of Hoppe was brought into
Leavenworth, was impudent enough to express his horror of
the shocking deed, when he was ordered to run for his
life--in attempting which a number of bullets sped after
him, and he fell dead in the street.



CHAPTER XX.

In the month of August, 1856, a company of so-called Territorial
Militia established themselves at Hickory Point, Jefferson county,
about twenty miles north of Lawrence, and proceeded to make raids on
the Free State settlements. In one of these raids they pillaged the
village of Grasshopper Falls, robbing the stores of their contents.
Gen. Lane and Captains Harvey and Bickerton determined to attack and
dislodge these marauders. But on the 11th of September Gov. Geary,
having arrived at Lecompton, issued a proclamation ordering all armed
bands of men, whether known as Territorial Militia or Free State
Guerrillas, to disperse and retire to their homes. Gen. Lane
determined at once to leave the Territory, and sent a message to that
effect to Capt. Harvey, who had arranged to unite his command with
that of Gen. Lane in an attack on Hickory Point; but the messenger
failed to meet Harvey, who made the attack alone and captured these
robbers. But Harvey's men were in their turn taken prisoners by a
company of United States troops and were conveyed to Lecompton and
kept during the winter as treason prisoners. But while the Free State
forces were thus being scattered, disbanded and taken prisoners, by
virtue of Gov. Geary's proclamation, an army of 3,000 men had been
enlisted in Missouri and along the border towns, and were marching
to destroy Lawrence and wipe out the Free State settlements. Delilah
bound Samson with cords, then said, "The Philistines be upon thee,
Samson"; and so these "Law and Order" leaders saw the Free State
forces dispersed by the Governor's proclamation, and then thought to
bring on the helpless settlements the whole power of this Missouri
invasion. But we will let Mr. Geary's private secretary tell the story
in his own way:

But the most reprehensible character in the drama being
enacted was the Secretary of the Territory, then acting
Governor. More than three weeks after Gov. Geary had
received his commission and Secretary Woodson had every
reason to believe that he was on his way to the Territory,
that weak-minded, if not criminally defective, officer
issued the following proclamation:

WHEREAS, Satisfactory evidence exists that the Territory
of Kansas is infested with large bodies of armed men:

Now, therefore, I, Daniel Woodson, Acting Governor of the
Territory of Kansas, do issue my proclamation declaring
the said Territory to be in a state of open insurrection
and rebellion, and I do hereby call upon all law-abiding
citizens of the Territory to rally to the support of the
country and its laws.

Not satisfied with the proclamation, which of itself was
sufficiently mischievous, he wrote private letters to
parties in Missouri calling for men, money and munitions
of war. This proclamation and these letters called
together thousands of men, mostly from Missouri, with
passions inflamed to the highest degree, and whose only
thought was wholesale slaughter and destruction.

It was the fixed purpose of Secretary Woodson to keep Gov.
Geary in ignorance of the extensive preparations that were
being made to attack and destroy the Free State
settlements. As yet the Governor had not seen Woodson's
proclamation. Governor Geary issued the follow-orders:

ADJT. GEN. H. J. STRICKLER:--You will proceed without a
moment's delay to disarm and disband the present organized
militia of the Territory.

Notwithstanding the positive character of these orders
they were utterly disregarded. Suspecting that treachery
was somewhere at work he forthwith dispatched confidential
messengers on the road to Westport to ascertain, if
possible, what operations were going forward in that
vicinity.

Messengers were constantly arriving from Lawrence bringing
intelligence that a large army from Missouri was encamped
on the Wakarusa River and was hourly expected to attack
the town. As these men were styled Territorial Militia and
were called into service by the late acting Governor
Woodson, Gov. Geary commanded that officer to take with
him Adjutant-General Strickler with an escort of United
States troops and disband, in accordance with the
proclamation issued, the forces that had so unwisely been
assembled. Woodson and Strickler left Lecompton in the
afternoon, and reached the Missouri camp early in the
evening.

Here Woodson found it impossible to accomplish the object
of his mission. No attention or respect was paid to him by
those having command of the forces. The army he had
gathered refused to acknowledge his authority. He had
raised a storm, the elements of which he was powerless to
control; neither could the officers be assembled to
receive the Governor's orders from the Adjutant-General.
The militia had resolved not to disband, the officers
refused to listen to the reading of the proclamation--they
were determined upon accomplishing the bloody work they
had entered the Territory to perform. Nothing but the
destruction of Lawrence and the other Free State towns,
the massacre of the Free State residents, and the
appropriation of their lands and other property, could
satisfy them.

Mr. Adams, who accompanied Secretary Woodson to the
Missouri camp, dispatched the following:

LAWRENCE, 12 o'clock Midnight, Sept. 14, 1856. To His
EXCELLENCY, GOV. GEARY:

SIR:--_Secretary Woodson thought you had better come to
the camp of the militia as soon as you can_. THEODORE
ADAMS.

Before this dispatch reached Lecompton the Governor had
departed with three hundred United States mounted troops
and a battery of light artillery, and arrived in Lawrence
early in the morning, where he found matters precisely as
described. Skillfully stationing his troops outside the
town, in commanding positions, to prevent a collision
between the invading forces from Missouri and the
citizens, he entered Lawrence alone, and there he beheld a
sight which would have aroused the manhood of the most
stolid mortal. About three hundred persons Were found in
arms, determined to sell their lives at the dearest price
to their ruffian enemies. Among these were many women, and
children of both sexes, armed with guns and otherwise
accoutered for battle. They had been goaded to this by the
courage of despair.

Gov. Geary addressed the armed citizens of Lawrence, and
when he assured them of his and the law's protection they
offered to deposit their arms at his feet and return to
their respective habitations. He bade them go to their
homes in confidence, and to carry their arms with them, as
the constitution guarantees that right, but to use them
only in the last resort to protect their lives and
property and the chastity of their females.

Early in the morning of the 15th, having left the troops
to protect the town, the Governor proceeded alone to the
camp of the invading forces, then within three miles and
drawn up in line of battle. Before reaching Franklin, he
met the advance guard, and upon inquiring who they were
and what were their objects, received for answer that they
were the Territorial Militia, and called into service by
the Governor of Kansas, and that they were marching to
wipe out Lawrence and every Abolitionist in the country.

Mr. Geary informed them that he was now Governor of
Kansas, and Commander-in-chief of the Territorial Militia,
and ordered the officer in command to countermarch his
troops back to the main line, and conduct him to the
center, which order, after some hesitation, was
reluctantly obeyed.

The red face of the rising sun was just peering over the
top of Blue Mound, as the Governor, with his strange
escort of three hundred mounted men, with red shirts and
odd-shaped hats, descended upon the Wakarusa plain, where
in battle array were ranged at least three thousand armed
and desperate men. They were not dressed in the usual
habiliments of soldiers, but in every imaginable costume
that could be obtained in the western region. Most of them
were mounted, and manifested an unmistakable disposition
to be at their bloody work. In the back-ground stood at
least three hundred army tents and as many wagons, while
here and there a cannon was planted ready to aid in the
anticipated destruction. Among the banners floated black
flags, to indicate the design that neither age, sex nor
condition would be spared in the slaughter that was to
ensue.

In passing along the lines murmurs of discontent and
savage threats of assassination fell upon the Governor's
ears, but heedless of these and regardless, in fact, of
everything but a desire to avert the terrible calamity
that was impending, he fearlessly proceeded to the
quarters of their leader.

This threatening army was under the command of John W.
Reed, then and now a member of the Missouri Legislature,
assisted by ex-Senator Atchison, Gen. B. F. Stringfellow,
Gen. L. A. Maclean, Gen. J. W. Whitfield, Gen. George W.
Clarke, Gens. William A. Heiskell, Wm. H. Richardson and
F. A. Marshal, Col. H. T. Titus, Capt. Frederick Emory and
others.

Gov. Geary at once summoned the officers together, and
addressed them at length and with great feeling. He
depicted in a forcible manner the improper position they
occupied and the untold horrors that would result from a
consummation of their cruel designs; that if they
persisted in their mad career the entire Union would be
involved in a civil war, and thousands and tens of
thousands of innocent lives be sacrificed. To Atchison he
particularly addressed himself, telling him that when he
last saw him he was acting as Vice-President of the nation
and President of the most dignified body of men in the
world, the Senate of the United States, but now with
sorrow and pain he saw him leading on to a civil and
disastrous war an army of men with uncontrollable
passions, and determined upon wholesale slaughter and
destruction. He concluded his remarks by directing
attention to his proclamation, and ordered the army to be
disbanded and dispersed. Some of the more judicious of the
officers were not only willing but anxious to obey this
order, while others, resolved upon mischief, yielded a
reluctant assent.



CHAPTER XXI.

It is now one-third of a century since Kansas began to be settled.
Great as has been the progress of the States of this Union within this
period, the progress of Kansas has been exceptionally and peculiarly
so. Its chief glory is not in its large agricultural and mineral
resources; it is not in its railroads and lines of telegraph; it is
not in the rapidly increasing population of educated men and women,
but it is in this, that it was not only the first State in the nation,
but the first Commonwealth in the world, to solve the problem of the
drink evil, the giant curse of Christendom, by incorporating
prohibition into its fundamental law.

In union there is strength. Jesus said so. He said, "Every kingdom
divided against itself is brought to desolation." And so evidently
does this principle commend itself to the common sense of men, that we
have engraved on our national ensign the motto, "_E Pluribus Unum_"
--one out of many.

How did such growth in Kansas come to be? Not in division, but in
union. We have thought it would do us good to look squarely in the
face that hard, cruel, and bloody period when it seemed the business
of the people to cut each other's throats. But cutting each other's
throats does not create such growth as we have had in Kansas.

Two peoples came together in Kansas, one from the South and one from
the North. They were of one original stock, but circumstances had
intervened and made them two peoples. For two years this bloody strife
had been going on. It is said that in revolutions men live fast. It
was two years, if we count the time by the revolutions of the earth
around the sun, but if we count by the experience men had gained, it
was many years.

Dr. Gihon tells that when Gov. Geary disbanded this Missouri army on
the Wakarusa, there grew up a marked antagonism of sentiment among its
leaders. He says: "Some of the more judicious of the officers were not
only willing but anxious to obey this order, whilst others, resolved
upon mischief, yielded a very reluctant assent." There was really a
large majority that accepted the result with hearty good will, but
there was also a small and malcontent minority determined on mischief.

Gen. B. F. Stringfellow, because of the vehement zeal with which he
had addicted himself to the enterprise of making Kansas a slave State,
had won for himself a national notoriety. He had staked life and good
fame and everything on the final issue of his work, yet himself and
his law partner, Peter T. Abell, went back from the Wakarusa never to
lift a finger again in that business. Mr. S. is a high-spirited,
hot-blooded, proud-spirited Virginian. His law partner, Col. Abell,
had a temper as unbending as Andrew Jackson, and did to the day of his
death hold a faith in the institution of slavery as abiding as John C.
Calhoun. But he was a wise and a just man, and both himself and Mr.
Stringfellow recognized the fact that, with such a population as had
come into Kansas, its becoming a free State was only a question of
time; and both these men were too sagacious to be found fighting
against fate. Mr. S. had always relished a joke, and, when rallied by
his friends on his sudden abandonment of this enterprise, he
facetiously replied: "Yes, I did try to make Kansas a slave State; but
I could not do it without slaves, and the South would not send slaves,
and so I had to give it up." From the time these gentlemen returned
from the Wakarusa there was a general softening of the asperities of
feeling of the people of Atchison and vicinity, and one year after
they were prepared to announce to the Free State people, "You deal
fairly with us, and we will deal fairly with you"--and they made their
words good by deeds, for they took Free State men into partnership
with themselves in the management of the Atchison Town Company.

But by this change Robert S. Kelley found "Othello's occupation
gone," and the control of the _Squatter Sovereign_ passed into the
hands of John A. Martin, now Governor of Kansas, and "Bob Kelley"
shook off the dust of his feet and walked away, respected for his
bravery and for his outspoken honesty and sincerity, even by those
that did not love him.

The writer will tell of his last interview with the South Carolinians
in a future chapter of these Recollections.

Peter T. Abell and Gen. B. F. Stringfellow were State's rights men in
their political opinions, and, therefore, according to the light that
was in them, owed their allegiance to the State of Kansas; and from
that allegiance they never swerved to the breadth of a hair. Still,
the people of the South were their brethren, and they gave to them
their profoundest sympathy during that bloody struggle that was to
decide whether the South should be an independent nation. Let us admit
that this did put these gentlemen in a strait betwixt two, like Paul,
the Apostle, but they never swerved to the right hand nor to the left.

We have, with some particularity, drawn out the history of the two
most distinguished of the Southern leaders, because that, with slight
change, it would be the biography of a great number of citizens of
Kansas that came from the South. Now, who does not see that here is
the basis of hearty co-operation, whether in the church or in the
world, of men from the South or from the North? provided always we can
take into our hearts the law of love: "All things whatsoever ye would
that men should do to you, do ye even so to them; for this is the law
and the prophets."

In further illustration of this remark we will relate an incident
concerning a Disciple, who will come prominently before us in the
formation of our first missionary society. Spartan Rhea was from
Missouri, and belonged to a family intensely Southern in their
convictions. He was commissioned a justice of the peace by the
Territorial authorities. A horse had been stolen by the Kickapoo
Rangers from Gains Jenkins, of Lawrence. Gov. Geary requested Bro.
Rhea to recover the horse, and he did so with some peril to himself,
and made a journey to Lawrence to restore the animal to its proper
owner. He sought to make it evident that the men of his party wanted
justice done.

But Dr. Gihon also tells us that there was at the Wakarusa a small
faction of irreconcilables, who, if they could do nothing else, could
at least curse.

"Gen. Clarke said he was for pitching into the United
States troops rather than abandon the objects of the expedition. Gen.
Maclean didn't see any use of going back until they had whipped the
Abolitionists. Sheriff Jones was in favor, now that they had
sufficient force, of wiping out Lawrence and all the Free State towns.
And these and others cursed Gov. Geary for his interference in their
well-laid plans.

"The broad ground assumed by these rabid leaders of the Pro-slavery
party in Kansas was, that an equilibrium of the slave power must be
maintained at any sacrifice in the American Union, and this could only
be effected by increasing the slave States in proportion with the
free. Whilst, therefore, the South was willing to give Nebraska to the
North, they demanded that Kansas should be ceded to the South. It was
of little consequence what number of Northern men located in
Kansas--they had no right to come unless with the intention to make it
a slave State."

This malcontent minority did, therefore, become a dangerous and
revolutionary faction, entertaining criminal purposes, which they were
ready to carry out by desperate methods. They were also in possession
of dangerous elements of power. They controlled the Territorial
Legislature, and all the Territorial judges were parties in this
conspiracy. Dr. Gihon testifies that "every federal officer in the
Territory, and every Territorial officer from the supreme judges to
the deputy marshals, sheriffs and clerks, were wedded to the slave
power, and pledged at all hazards to its extension."

But daylight had already begun to dawn. Some of the wisest Pro-slavery
men in the Territory were beginning to call a halt, and to say: "We
will travel no further in this road in which we are being led by these
desperate and scheming adventurers."



CHAPTER XXII.

Gov. Geary had won ripe and rich honors from the people of this nation
in the official positions he had heretofore held, and which he had
discharged with such eminent ability. The position of the Governor of
Kansas, as seen from afar, and under the _glamour_ that surrounded it,
was a position of high honor.

Every child has heard the story of old "Blue Beard," how that, having
married a number of wives who had mysteriously disappeared, he courted
and married a beautiful young lady, possessing every accomplishment
that can give grace and attractiveness to a woman, and had carried her
to his castle, where she should have at her disposal an unlimited
amount of money and be served by obsequious servants, and stand on a
level with all the fine ladies and gentlemen in the land. Old Blue
Beard gave to her the keys unlocking all the rooms in his castle, but
said to her, "There is one key, unlocking one door, into one room, and
into that room you must in nowise enter." But, overcome by her woman's
curiosity, she did unlock that door and enter that room, and there she
beheld the horrid sight of all the murdered wives of the wicked old
Blue Beard, hanging and rotting on its walls, and now this was also to
be her sad fate.

Kansas was becoming the graveyard of Territorial Governors.  Reeder
and Shannon had already lost their official heads. Within six months
Gov. Geary's head was also to drop into the basket. Three more
governors were to succeed him, each one of whom should in his turn
lose his official head. Gov. Geary's position was indeed very like
that of the wife of the wicked Blue Beard, only that she had certainly
some advantages over the Governor. She had a great and fine castle,
rich and costly dresses, many servants ready to come and go at her
beck and call, and the company of great lords and fine ladies; but
when Gov. Geary came to his castle, his private Secretary shall tell
us what he found:

Lecompton is situated on the south side of the Kansas
River, upon as inconvenient and inappropriate a site for a
town as any in the Territory. It was chosen simply for
speculative purposes. It contained, at the time of Gov.
Geary's arrival, some twenty or more houses, the majority
of which were employed as groggeries of the lowest
description. It was the residence of the celebrated
Sheriff Jones, who is one of the leading members of this
town association, and was the resort of horse-thieves and
ruffians of the most desperate character. Its drinking
saloons were infested by these characters, whose
drunkenness, gambling, fighting, and all sorts of crime,
were indulged in with impunity.

Here was congregated, and here was the headquarters of, that band of
desperate men, who were in a conspiracy to make Kansas a slave State
at whatever cost of blood, of fraud, or violence. Here the Territorial
Legislature met to enact their bloody code of laws, and here the
Territorial Judges held their courts, which were a burlesque on the
very name of a civilized and Christian jurisprudence; and here, also,
were kept the treason prisoners, while atrocious murderers were not
molested, because they were "sound on the goose question."

We have already told how Harvey's men, that had attacked and taken
prisoners the "Law and Order" robbers that pillaged the defenseless
village of Grasshopper Falls, were themselves taken prisoners by the
United States troops. These were tried for treason in the Pro-slavery
courts, and were condemned to various terms of imprisonment, varying
from six months to six years. They were kept in a wretched, old,
tumbledown house, without doors or windows, during the bitter cold of
a Kansas winter, guarded by "Law and Order" militia, exposed to every
insult, wallowing in filth, and eaten up with lice. But there was one
circumstance to mitigate their hapless condition--their jailer was a
good-hearted, honest Kentuckian, who had humanity enough to pity them,
and bravery enough to do what he could to mitigate the hardships of
their lot. Their hard-hearted judges had condemned them to wear a ball
and chain; but Gov. Geary refused to provide balls and chains for
them, and the honest Capt. Hampton refused to fasten these symbols of
degradation on the limbs of men he knew to be decent American
citizens; and thereat Sheriff Jones became furious. The facts of the
case were just these: All the people were, so to speak, fighting. The
Governor issued his proclamation. These Hickory Point "Law and Order"
militia were simply robber banditti, and Captain Harvey and his
company thought they ought to be "cleaned out," and proceeded to do
so, and this act, though intrinsically it was a righteous act, yet
technically, laid them open to the law. This happened on the 12th of
September, but up to the 14th of September 3,000 "Law and Order"
militia, coming into Kansas as outside invaders, refused to be
disbanded by the Governor's proclamation, and both before and after
continued the business of murder and robbery. Yet this was nothing,
because these were "Law and Order" men. The other was treason, for
these were Free State men fighting for their homes and firesides. But
Capt. Hampton saw the matter just as it was, and acted accordingly.
Dr. Gihon testified of these treason prisoners, "These prisoners were
not all rough and desperate adventurers. Some of them were gentlemen
of polished education."

The sunlight may sparkle and shimmer on the surface of the foul and
putrid marsh, noxious with offensive and poisonous exhalations--so Dr.
Gihon throws a kind of grim and ghastly humor over his narrative of
the repulsive and brutal surroundings of himself and Governor Geary
during the winter they were imprisoned at Lecompton. The Doctor tells
the following story at the expense of a Southern gentleman:

A good anecdote is told by a gentleman from one of the
Southern States, in regard to these Free State prisoners,
when under the charge of Captain Hampton. Having expressed
a desire to see these robbers and murderers, as he styled
them, the Governor directed him to the prison.

He immediately started, and looking in vain for anything
that resembled a prison, he approached two men who were
enjoying themselves with a game of quoits.

"Can you tell me," he inquired, "where the prison is where
these robbers and murderers are confined?"

"That's it," said one of the men, pointing to a house near
at hand.

"What! that old building, falling to pieces, without
either doors or windows?"

"That is the only prison we have here," replied the man,
deliberately pitching his quoit.

"Well," said the Southern gentleman, "I want to see these
prisoners."

"I am one of them," said the quoit-player, "and that is
another," pointing to his companion.

"What! you convicted felons? You the terrible murderers
about whom I have heard so much?"

"Yes, we are certainly two of them. The others are gone
over to the House of Representatives, to hear the members
abuse the Governor."

"But," says the old gentleman, "they don't allow convicted
murderers to go about in this way, without a guard to
watch them?"

"O! yes," says the man interrogated; "they used to send a
guard with us when we went over to the Legislative Halls,
to protect us against violence from the members, but they
found that too troublesome, so they gave each of us a
revolver and bowie-knife, and told us we should hereafter
be required to protect ourselves."

"But why don't you run away? There is nothing to prevent
you."

"Why, to tell the truth, we have often been persuaded to
do that, but then these rascally legislators have been
threatening to assassinate the Governor, and we have
determined to remain here to watch them and protect him."

The old gentleman had no desire to see any more of these
thieves, murderers and assassins.


There are those who find a Spanish bull fight or a civilized American
boxing match very enjoyable events. Such men would have found great
enjoyment in one incident that served to enliven the monotony of the
winter's residence of the Governor at Lecompton. There was one
Sherrard who came from Virginia. He was of a good family, but strong
drink had been his ruin. He had been appointed by the Legislature
Sheriff of Douglas county in place of S. T. Jones, who for some reason
was to go out of office. The Governor refused to commission this
Sherrard because he was a drunkard, a brawler, and a cursing,
swearing, gambling ruffian and bully. This made Sherrard furious, and
Sheriff Zones and all his crowd of bullies were furious with him. Then
Sherrard tried to raise a row by insulting individuals in the personal
service of the Governor. This failing, Sherrard spit in the Governor's
face; but Mr. Geary, mindful of the dignity of his office, and that it
did not become the Governor of Kansas to get into a brawl with a
common blackguard, walked straight on. Afterwards Sherrard, who kept
himself crazy drunk, provoked a general affray in a large company of
men, in which pistols were fired in every direction; when John A, W.
Jones, the young man on Gov. Geary's staff whom Sherrard had assaulted
a few days before, shot him in the forehead.



CHAPTER XXIII.

One circumstance at last brought to a sudden close Gov. Geary's term
of office. When he had disbanded the three thousand "Law and Order"
militia that were to attack Lawrence, that part of them known as the
Kickapoo Rangers were returning home by way of Lecompton. One of this
number went into a field where "a poor, inoffensive, lame young man"
named David C. Buffum was plowing, and demanded his horses. Buffum
protested against this robbery, but the wretch shot Buffum and took
the horses. The unhappy man gave the following account of the matter:

"They asked me for my horses. I told them I was a
cripple--a poor lame man--that I had an aged father, a
deaf and dumb brother, and two sisters, all depending on
me for a living, and my horses were all I had. One of them
said I was a Abolitionist, and, taking me by the shoulder,
he shot me."

Gov. Geary was returning to Lecompton, and hearing of what had been
done, he called with Judge Cato at Buffum's house, and by the
Governor's direction Judge Cato took the dying man's deposition. Gov.
Geary was terribly shocked, and said to himself, "I never witnessed a
scene that filled me with so much horror." Mr. Geary sent a detective
on the track of the Kickapoo Rangers, and found that the murderer was
one Charley Hayes, living in Atchison county. He had the horses still
in his possession. The Governor ordered his arrest, and the Grand
Jury found a bill against him of murder in the first degree. Meantime
the Free State men came to the Governor making a bitter complaint of
the persecutions they were suffering. They said, "Our relatives and
friends are arrested and confined for weeks and months in a filthy
prison, not fit for dogs to live in, and are kept without proper food
or clothing, and are not allowed to give bail even for bailable
offenses; while murderers of the other party are allowed to go at
large and no attention is paid to them." They said, "The murderers of
Dow, Barber, Brown, Phillips, Hoppe and Buffum, have not even been
arrested or examined."

The Governor replied that he had already ordered the arrest of Hayes,
and that a grand jury of Pro-slavery men had found a true bill against
him, and that Hayes should be tried for his life. But while he was yet
speaking a messenger brought word that Judge Lecompte had released
Hayes on bail, and that Sheriff Jones had gone on his bail bond, a man
notoriously not worth a dollar; and this when the crime of murder in
the first degree, for which Hayes had been indicted, was not a
bailable offense. The Governor was terribly indignant, and ordered
Hayes to be re-arrested. But while he was absent at the land sales at
Fort Leavenworth, Judge Lecompte a second time set this wretch at
liberty. Mr. Geary was provoked beyond endurance, and wrote to the
President that he would not remain in office and allow such a
scoundrel to be kept in a position to pervert the ways of justice.
President Pierce nominated C. O. Harrison, of Kentucky, to take
Lecompte's place, but for some unexplained cause the appointment was
not confirmed in the Senate, and Judge Lecompte retained his place,
and in unspeakable disgust Gov. Geary resigned, making his resignation
take effect on March 20, 1857. Thus he had spent a winter in the
chamber of death of the wicked old Blue Beard, but did not lose his
official head till spring.

The writer was acquainted with the family of this Charley Hayes. They
were decent sort of people; but when a young boy Charley went on the
plains, where he became a brutal ruffian. A good many years ago there
was a story current in Atchison county, that when this Hayes was
acting as wagon-boss on the plains, in a train owned by Russell,
Majors & Waddell, that one of the teamsters having offended him he
tied him up to a wheel of one of the train wagons, and, holding a
pistol in one hand, he cowhided him with his black-snake whip with the
other. And this teamster was a white man.

But there are avenging furies that follow a man, even though the law
does not reach him. There is a man now living in Atchison county whose
truthfulness has never been questioned, and he stated that he spent a
winter in the Missouri River bottoms, sleeping in the same cabin with
Charley Hayes, and that it seemed as if the devil had a mortgage on
the ruffian's soul, and tormented him in his sleep with images of the
horrors that awaited him in the future world. That it seemed as if he
was wrestling in mortal struggle with the men he had maltreated and
murdered, and that they were choking him to death. Hayes afterwards
died of a consumption presumably brought on by his dissipated habits
and by his debaucheries.

Meantime the writer had started for Illinois the preceding summer,
had been prostrated for four weeks with a fever, and late in the
autumn of 1856 had returned to Kansas, there to remain. The times were
becoming quiet, the peaceful counsels of such leaders as Stringfellow
and Abell were beginning to take effect, and it evidently would be
safe for the writer to go to work on his claim. But he needed a supply
of corn, and had to go over into the Missouri River bottoms to buy it.
A heavy snow had fallen. I had a heavy, well-trained yoke of oxen, and
my faithful riding horse was obedient in every place. Myself and
brother-in-law had made a heavy Yankee sled that would hold all the
load that was put on it. I borrowed from my neighbor, Caleb May, two
additional yoke of oxen, but they only knew how to pull in a big
freighting team, and were not leaders. But putting my own heavy oxen
behind, my wild steers in the middle, and my horse in the lead, I made
out a good freighting team. But I had to pass through Atchison. The
business men of the place had already made this overture to me. They
had said: "You can come to Atchison during the day time and we will
guarantee that you shall not be molested, but we would rather you
should not be here in the night. The South Carolinians are here, and
there are other desperate characters here, and in the night we do not
know what might happen." And so, on the strength of such an agreement,
I had done business in Atchison, and to get my corn across the river
had gone over one day and back the next.

I had yet one more load of corn to haul. There had been a thaw, and
then the snow had frozen again, making it in many places slippery
traveling. The river bank, from the top of the bank down to the ice of
the river, was about twenty feet, and very steep; and this by much
traveling had become a perfect glare of ice, so that teams could not
hold their footing at all. I had gone over for my last load one day,
intending to return the next day, but I had found unexpected
hindrances, and when I got to the east bank of the river opposite
Atchison, it was sometime after dark. I got down as best I could and
crossed over on the ice to the Atchison side of the river, and I was
now to get up that bank of glare ice. [6] I placed my sled load of corn
at the bottom of the bank, and taking my team up in an unfrequented
place, I stationed them on the top of the bank directly above my load
of corn at the bottom. Before coming over I had cut a long, slender
pole in the timbered bottoms, and in view of this contingency had also
brought extra chains from home, and by means of the chains and this
long pole I hitched my team on the top of the hill to my load of corn
at the bottom. The thing worked well, and I had my load well on the
top of the bank on the level ground; but here the road turned suddenly
to the left close along the river bank, and my horse, too eager to get
home, turned too soon, and this brought my sled with a sudden crash
against a rock, and down went my load to the bottom of the bank again.
A chain had broken, and now my load of corn was left in such a
position that I evidently could not get it up again without help. In
the hindrances to which I had been subjected it had come to be 9
o'clock. I looked about and saw no light save in a saloon that had
been built under the bluff to catch custom, for this was the ferry
landing. I do not usually visit saloons, but "necessity knows no law,"
and I walked in; and whom should I find but Grafton Thomassen, the man
that made the raft on which they sent me down the river, sitting and
playing cards with a number of South Carolinians! They were
thunderstruck, and I have to confess that I was almost as much taken
aback as they were. But I spoke to them and said, "Gentlemen, good
evening." Then I explained, as well as I could, what had befallen me,
and that I had come in for assistance. But they were dumb--they never
spoke a word. I waited till my position became embarrassing, then
said, "Well, gentlemen, you seem to be busy, and I don't want to
interrupt; I will go somewhere else." I had already opened the door
when Grafton Thomassen found his voice and said, "Boys, it is not
right to leave Butler without help. Let us go and help him." "Yes!
yes! yes!" they all cried at once, "we will go and help him." And,
springing to their feet, and hastily putting on their overcoats, hats
and gloves, they came rushing to the door, saying, "Yes! yes! We will
help you. What is it we can do for you?"

I went with them to the river bank, pointed out my sled loaded with
corn on the ice, and explained to them it had to be brought up the
bank. They asked incredulously, "An' kin ye haul that thar slide up
that slippery bank?"

I said, "Yes, I have done it once," then I explained how the chain had
broken, and how my load of corn had gone down onto the ice again.

They exclaimed, "O! Well now! We have come all the way from South
_Carliny_ to see a Yankee trick an' haint we got it?"

They were eager to help, so as to see the fun. When everything was
ready I gave my horse in charge of one of them, saying to him he must
in nowise let the horse turn till the load of corn was well up and in
the traveled road, then gave the word to start. My team was eager to
pull, for they were getting impatient; and in fine style they brought
the load up on the level ground, and then immediately were in front of
the saloon, and I called a halt. When we got everything fixed I said
to them, "Gentlemen, I thank you. You have done me a real kindness.
But the night is cold."--and handing one of them a piece of silver, I
said, "Please take that and get something to warm you."

He took it and with something of hesitation said, "Won't you come in
and drink with us?"

I replied, "Please excuse me. You know me; you know I don't drink. But
all the same I want you to take it."

He said rather proudly, "We did not work for you for pay. We did it to
oblige you."

But I insisted. I said, "You did me a real kindness, and I want to do
you a kindness in return. I want you to take it." Then they bade me
good night and went into the saloon.

The wind had been rising, and the snow was drifting; and it was
evident that in many places the road would be obliterated, and I had a
long stretch of prairie to travel over on which there was not a human
habitation. It was dangerous to undertake it, and I had to stay in
Atchison. I found an empty corral, where my teams would be decently
sheltered, and went to the only hotel in town. The sleeping room they
assigned me was separated from the bar-room only by a thin board
partition, and I could hear every word that was said. This hotel was
the boarding-place of the South Carolinians, and they soon began to
drop in from about town, and word was passed among them that Butler
was in the house. Then one fellow, who was decidedly drunk, got
turbulent, and protested, with terrible oaths, that such a man should
not stay in the house, but that he would go in and drag him out of
bed. Then another company came in and demanded: "What's all this
fussing about?" These were my friends, the South Carolinians from
under the bluff They heard what this fellow had to say, then said:
"This thing has to be dried up." They then told what had happened down
at the river, and concluded: "Butler is a gentleman. He talks like a
gentleman; _he treats like a gentleman_; he came into this house like
a gentleman, and we will show him that we are gentlemen." And when the
drunken fellow became uproarious they hustled him off to bed.

I was evidently among friends, and slept soundly and without
apprehension till morning. I never saw my South Carolina friends
again. They returned home at an early day.

They had not made Kansas a slave state, but they had seen a Yankee
trick.



CHAPTER XXIV.

Gov. Geary, sick in body and sick at heart, had left the Territory in
fear of private assassination, his best friends at Lecompton being the
treason prisoners. These, with something of bitterness, remarked that
the Governor went away in such haste that he had forgotten to pardon
them as he had promised; and thus while he got had out of prison, they
still stayed in.

The party in power at Lecompton had said to the President at
Washington: "We are sick of Northern Governors. They won't do to tie
to. For pity's sake give us a man from the South." And so a Southern
Governor was given them in the person of Robert J. Walker. Rehoboam,
the son of Solomon, said to the Jews: "My little finger shall be
thicker than my father's loins." So this Lecompton _party_ found the
little finger of this Southern Governor to be thicker than the loins
of Gov. Geary.

Mr. W. stood so high in public position that no man stood higher
than himself, save alone the President. He had been a Senator from
Mississippi, and had been Secretary of the Treasury in Mr. Pierce's
Cabinet. The complications of this Kansas question had become such as
to call for a man of the highest rank and ability. The main object of
Mr. Walker's mission to Kansas was to induce the Free State people to
vote at the Territorial elections, which alone were appointed by the
government at Washington, and recognized by it. Until he could
accomplish this, nothing was done toward the pacification of the
Territory. To induce them to do this, he pledged to the Free State men
a fair election. But he found that he was speaking to ears that could
not hear. He had said in his inaugural address with all apparent
fairness:

I can not doubt that the Convention, after having framed a
State constitution, will submit it for ratification or
rejection by a majority of the actual _bona fide_ resident
settlers of Kansas.

With these views well known to the President and Cabinet, and
approved by them, I accepted the appointment of Governor of Kansas; my
instructions from the President, through the Secretary of State, under
date of the 30th of March last, sustain the regular Legislature of the
Territory in assembling a convention to form a constitution, and they
express the opinion of the President that when such a constitution
shall be submitted to the people of the Territory, they must be
protected in their right of voting for or against that instrument; and
the fair expression of the popular will must not be interrupted by
fraud or violence.

This seemed very fair, but what did it amount to? The people knew that
the Governor must consent to be a mere cat's paw and convenience of
these conspirators, or else be unceremoniously thrust aside; and that
the authorities at Washington would sustain them and not him. This had
been the fate of Reeder, of Shannon and of Geary, and this also would
be the fate of the present Governor. Dr. Gihon, on behalf of Mr.
Geary, had bitterly complained that there was not a single officer in
the Territory responsible either to the people or to the Governor;
that all were the appointees of the Legislature, and responsible to it
alone. The Lecompton Legislature had passed a bill calling a
convention to frame a State constitution; and Gov. Geary had vetoed
the bill because it made no provision for submitting the constitution,
when framed, to a vote of the people; and the Legislature had passed
the bill over his veto, and now what power had Gov. Walker in the
matter more that Gov. Geary?

An event happened at that time that was a nine days' wonder, and a
nine days' talk among the people; and yet it does not seem to have
been put on record in any extant history of the period. The Governor
had sought the privilege of addressing the Free State people on this
question of voting, which he made his hobby. It was at a meeting at
Big Springs. Gen. Lane was present, as also were a large number of
Free State men, and the Governor had pressed on them, as the only road
out of their difficulties, the necessity of voting at those
Territorial elections, which alone were recognized by the government
at Washington.

Gen. Lane arose to reply, and in a speech of terrible energy and power
he arraigned the Lecompton party for all their wrongs and outrages;
then, when he had reached the climax of his argument, he leaned
forward, and, looking at Mr. Walker from beneath his shaggy eyebrows
with his deepset, piercing black eyes, and shaking at him his long
bony finger, his whole frame quivering with passion, he said in his
deep guttural tones, which seemed more like the growl of a savage wild
beast than the voice of a human being: "_Gov-er-nor Wal-ker, y-o-u
c-a-n-'t con-t-r-ol your allies!_"

The effect was prodigious; and the Free State men were swept away as
with a whirlwind. Even Gov. Walker felt the force of the appeal. But
he showed himself a brave man; and came back resolutely to the battle.
He said: "_I am your Governor!_ You must admit that I have at least a
_legal_ right to control my allies, so far as to give you a fair
election; and I pledge you my word and honor that I will do it. Now
try me! and see if I do not keep my word!"

The Free State men began to falter and to ask each other, "Is it not
best to try the Governor, and see if he will be as good as his word?"
And from this time forward there began to appear a division in the
Free State ranks; which sometimes grew to be bitter and acrimonious.
This division had indeed begun to appear one year before, when on the
Fourth of July Col. Sumner had dispersed the Free State Legislature at
Topeka. Gov. Robinson was at that time a prisoner, and was, therefore,
not present; but he said in his next annual message as Free State
Governor:

When your bodies met, pursuant to adjournment, in July
last, your assembly was interfered with and broken up by a
large force of United States troops in battle array, who
drove you hence, in gross violation of those
constitutional rights _which it was your duty to have
protected_.

Wm. A. Phillips, correspondent of the _New York Tribune,_ and
afterwards a member of Congress, was a man terribly in earnest, and he
did, on the above-named Fourth of July, in a speech, take the position
that we ought to fight for our rights and defy Col. Sumner and his
dragoons. The men that demanded that we should fight said: "We can
take possession of the houses and fire out of the windows, and thus
avoid the onset of Col. Sumner's cavalry." But the majority said: "We
are loyal to the old flag, and in no case, and under no circumstances
will be found fighting against it." It was this more conservative
majority that began to demand that the Free State men should listen to
Gov. Walker's overtures and vote at the coming election.

Gen. Lane had been uncompromising in defying the Territorial laws. He
had said: "Gov. Walker has said, 'Vote next week.' What for? Have we
not made our constitution? And do not the people of freedom like it?
Can't we submit this to the people, and who wants another?" But now
he had become at the first reticent, and finally said: "Vote." This
singular man that constantly kept on exhibiting his desperate
determination to resist the bogus laws, really kept in his heart the
one supreme purpose to make himself the oracle of the prevailing
sentiment among the Free State men. When, therefore, Gen. Lane said,
"Let us vote," it was good evidence that this had become the
prevailing sentiment among the Free State party.

A convention was held at Grasshopper Falls, August 26, 1857, at which
this was the main question, and it was decided in favor of voting at
the coming election of Territorial officers. The Hon. Henry Wilson had
recently visited Kansas from Massachusetts, and he had earnestly
entreated the Free State men to vote. Phillips, Conway and Redpath
still protested against it. Gov. Robinson, however, gave his voice in
favor of voting.

An election had already been-held June 15th to elect delegates to the
Lecompton Constitutional Convention, at which the Free State men had
taken no part. Fifteen Free State counties had in this election been
disfranchished, no election having been ordered in them.

At the election of Territorial officers, held October 6, 1857, both
parties turned out The Free State men cast 7,887 votes for the
Territorial Legislature. The Lecompton party was reported to have cast
6,466 votes. But though the Free State men had a numerical majority of
votes, yet the districts had been so arranged that the above returns
gave a majority in the Legislature to the Lecompton party. Johnson
county, bordering on Missouri, had been united in one district with
Douglas county, in which Lawrence is situated, and this district had
been given eight members. Oxford precinct, in Johnson county, was a
place of not over a dozen houses, and polled 124 votes for township
officers, yet it reported 1,628 votes for the Lecompton party. When,
however, Gov. Walker and Mr. Stanton came to canvass the votes they
threw out this Oxford vote. They also set aside 1,200 fraudulent votes
in McGee county. The vote at Kickapoo, equally fraudulent, was also
set aside. This gave a majority to the Free State party in the
Lecompton Territorial Legislature, and thus Gov. Walker redeemed his
pledge that the people should have a fair election.

Judge Cato felt that it was time to come to the rescue of his friends,
and issued a writ directed to "Robert J. Walker, Governor of Kansas
Territory, and Frederick P. Stanton, secretary of the same,"
commanding these gentlemen to issue certificates of election to the
men who appeared to be elected according to the original returns. Gov.
Walker good-naturedly refused to obey the order of the court, offering
to submit to arrest for contempt of court, and tendering the judge _a.
posse_ of United States troops to aid in making the arrest. The judge
began to see that he had been making a fool of himself, and dropped
the subject. These Territorial judges had shown themselves capable of
any excess of villainy, and had been a sure refuge in every time of
trouble to this Lecompton party; but even the courts had now failed
them, and these "border ruffian" judges were only laughed at by this
Southern Governor. One year before, these conspirators had assembled
an army to drive out the Free State settlers, and to give the
Territory into the hands of the South; but Gov. Geary had interfered
to thwart their purpose, and, what was worse, a majority of the
leaders of that army, men of note along the Missouri border, had
declared themselves in sympathy with Mr. Geary. Then they had asked
for a Southern Governor, for would not he be true to the South? And
now even this man had failed them, and had given the control of the
Territorial Legislature into the hands of the Philistines! They were
indeed in evil case. It seemed as if heaven and earth had combined
against them, and that only hell was on their side. One last chance
remained. If this was a desperate chance, it must be remembered they
were playing a desperate game--they would make Kansas a slave State in
spite of the Governor, in spite of the Territorial Legislature, and in
spite of the people of Kansas.



CHAPTER XXV.

The Convention that had been called to frame a State Constitution, and
in which election the Free State men had taken no part, had met to do
its work in September of 1857, and finished in November; but to the
last it refused to make provision to submit the Constitution, when
framed, to a vote of the people, for acceptance or rejection. But in
place of this thing, had virtually said to them: "You must accept
this Constitution whether you like it or not. We will allow you to
vote _for_ the Constitution with slavery; or, _for_ the Constitution
without slavery; but you must vote in every contingency _for_ the
Constitution."

But admitting the people had voted for the Constitution _without_
slavery, still a trap was set for them in the following proviso, which
would still remain an integral part of the Constitution.

"If, upon such examination of such poll-books it shall appear that a
majority of the legal votes cast at said election be in favor of the
'Constitution with no slavery,' then the article providing for slavery
shall be stricken from this Constitution, and slavery shall no longer
exist in the State of Kansas; _except that the right of property in
slaves now in this Territory shall in no manner be interfered with_."

Thus, which ever way they should vote, Kansas would still remain a
slave State. Of course the Free State men did not walk into the trap,
but staid away from the election, which was ordered for December 21,
1857; and the Constitution was adopted by a strictly one-sided vote.
And now Gov. Walker began to realize in the bitterness of his heart
that "uneasy lies the head of him that wears a crown." He had staked
his manhood, his veracity, his honor, his everything, that this
Constitution, when framed, should be submitted to a vote of the people
for acceptance or rejection, and now he was to be put to shame in the
eyes of the whole world; and Gen. Lane was proved a true prophet when
he had said to the Governor with such withering power: "Gov. Walker,
you can't control your allies." Mr. Walker was able to show a private
letter from President Buchanan, assuring him in the most positive
terms, that this Constitution, when framed, should be submitted to a
vote of the people; but of what avail was such a promise? There was a
power behind the throne at Washington stronger than the throne itself;
and Gov. W. was able to see what a hollow mockery was that power which
he supposed himself to possess.

The Governor made known to the people that he would be absent on
business for three or four weeks; and he went away to Washington,
never more to return. There was neither pity nor justice for him
there; and in unspeakable disgust he resigned; and Mr. Stanton took
the oath of office and reigned as Governor _for one month_. Then he
also was removed, and Gov. Denver took his place. Thus, five Kansas
Governors had each in their turn been officially decapitated. Stanton
had been superseded by Denver because he had called a special session
of the now Free State Legislature, and it had ordered an immediate
election to vote for or against the Lecompton Constitution, and at
this election 10,226 votes were polled against it.

It had been intended that under whip and spur Kansas should be
admitted by Congress as a slave State before the time should arrive
for the regular assembling of the Territorial Legislature, which had
now passed into the hands of the Free State men; but by calling a
special session of the Legislature, he had enabled that body to order
an immediate election, that should give official evidence that an
overwhelming majority of the people were opposed to the Lecompton
Constitution.

And now Stephen A. Douglas, at Washington, came forward as State
Senator from Illinois and made it impossible that Kansas should be
admitted as a State unless that document should first be submitted to
the people for acceptance or rejection. A bill to this effect was
finally passed by Congress. It was called the English bill. It
proffered a magnificent bribe if the people would accept the Lecompton
Constitution--five million five hundred thousand acres of public land
should be given to Kansas; besides other munificent donations. But the
English bill also contained a menace as well as a bribe. It threatened
that if the people rejected this offer they should be remanded back
for an indefinite period, to all the miseries of a Territorial life.

In the face of such a menace, and tempted by such a bribe, the whole
voting population of the Territory turned out at the election, which
was ordered to be held August 2, 1858. At this election, 1,788 votes
were cast for the Constitution, and 9,512 against it. From whence then
came this overwhelming majority? The majority of the Free State party
was about two to one. "Wilder's Annals," the best extant Free State
authority, puts it at this. "The Free State or Republican party has
carried every election in Kansas since this date (1857), usually by
two to one." But here is a majority of six to one; and we must go
outside of the Free State or Republican party to find it. Dr. John H.
Stringfellow wrote at this time to the Washington Union against the
admission of Kansas under the Lecompton Constitution. He says: "To do
so will break down the Democratic party at the North, and seriously
endanger the interests and peace of Missouri and Kansas, if not of the
whole Union."

Judge Tutt, of St. Joseph, Mo., had said to the South Carolinians: "I
was born in Virginia, and have lived forty years in Missouri. I am a
slave-holder, and a Pro-slavery man; and I desire Kansas to be made a
slave State, _if it can be done by honorable means_. But you will
break down the cause you are seeking to build up." And Judge Tutt
voiced the sentiments of a large number of Pro-slavery men and
slave-holders in Kansas.

The city of Atchison gave a majority of votes against the Lecompton
Constitution; and Atchison county gave a majority of almost three to
one against it; and Leavenworth city, which two years before had been
the theater of such murders, riots and robberies, gave a majority
against the proposition of the English bill of more than ten to one,
notwithstanding the huge bribe offered if the people would accept it.

We are writing these "Recollections" for posterity as well as for
the present generation. It is only the verdict of posterity that will
justly estimate the men and the influences that went to make up the
final result of the early Kansas struggle. Up to the present time the
writers that have written on this subject have been too near the
battle, and themselves too much a party in it, to write with perfect
impartiality. Southern and Pro-slavery writers and speakers have not
been able to admit that Southern men were the original wrong-doers;
while Northern and Free State writers have not been able to rise to
the level of such fair dealing, as to admit that when the decisive
vote was cast that determined the question of freedom and slavery in
Kansas, as absolutely as it had already been determined in Ohio,
Indiana and Illinois, the Free State people were indebted to the
nobility of heart and elevation of mind, displayed by Southern and
Pro-slavery men in making the vote so overwhelming as to put the
question beyond the possibility of controversy forever; yet this was
done in the unprecedented vote of six to one, cast in condemnation of
the Lecompton Constitution.

From this time forward the two parties that had been struggling with
each other for four years in such fierce antagonism were dead; and in
their place have appeared the two political parties that are found
throughout the United States; and the lines of difference between the
men of the South and the men of the North have been as completely
obliterated in thirty years, as they were obliterated in Old England,
between Saxon and Norman, after 500 years of savage strife and
turmoil.

And now, if the superior races of the world have been formed by the
amalgamation of the kindred stocks, may we not believe that Providence
has been preparing in this central State a people that shall bear a
distinguished part in that mighty battle that is so swiftly coming to
the American nation, in which we will be called to fight against a
Christian barbarism and a paganized Christianity, for all that is
precious in our Christian civilization, and for all that is true and
good in our American form of government?

Rome fell under an invasion by foreign barbarians; so an inundation of
the barbarians of the world is pouring in on us, and threatens to
swallow us up; it is like the flood the dragon poured out of his
mouth. Of our duties growing out of this catastrophe we shall write
hereafter.

The writer of these "Recollections" is a fallible man, like other
fallible man. He has shown at least this, that he is ready to stand by
his convictions, living and dying; and he holds this conviction fixed
and immutable, that there is a crisis coming on us of overtopping and
overwhelming magnitude, and demanding the American people should come
together and look each other honestly in the face, that they may take
into their hearts this weight and extent of the reasons that call that
they should join in united effort for the salvation of the nation and
the conversion of the world; and that this does not allow that there
shall be anything of flimsy, shallow, or hypocritical concealment of
the facts of our history.

The world has had abundant experience of these border feuds. Scotland
had her feuds between her Highlands and Lowlands. In Ireland there has
been unceasing enmity for 250 years between her Protestant and
Catholic populations. The French and English peoples of Canada are
never at peace with each other; and now there is a feud that can not
be healed between England and Ireland. In some of the mountain regions
of the Southern States, where the people yet retain the clannish
temper of their Scotch and Irish ancestors, there are neighborhood
enmities that go down from father to son, from generation to
generation; and that issue in such fist fights, brawls, and mobs, as
sometimes to tax the whole energy of the public authorities to
suppress them. And now, with such foundation laid for the indefinite
perpetuation of similar feuds in Kansas, we do argue that it has
manifested on the part of our population no ordinary qualities of
heart and soul, that they were so soon able to eliminate from among
themselves their turbulent and dangerous elements.




CHAPTER XXVI.

The men that had settled in Kansas were generally poor, and few had
any reserved fund from which to draw their support, but were literally
dependent for their daily bread on their labor day by day; and to take
away the horses of such a man was literally to take the bread out of
the mouths of his children. Free State men and Pro-slavery men had
each in turn been thus despoiled and compelled to flee the Territory;
or if they remained they were paralyzed and unfitted for work.

But the spring and summer of 1857 had brought a new order of things.
Gov. Geary had put an end to these disorders, and the presence of S.
C. Pomeroy and other Free State men in Atchison was an additional
guarantee of peace and security. As a result the Kansas squatters had
gone to work with a will. Old things had passed away, and all things
had become new. There did indeed remain a chronic state of disorder in
Southeastern Kansas; but this was local and exceptional.

But religious and thoughtful men looked far beyond this question of
what shall we eat and what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be
clothed? Intemperate habits were growing fast on the people. Coarse
profanity and ribald speech were becoming so common as to be the rule
and not the exception. Fathers and mothers began to tremble when they
thought what their boys were coming to; and this turned their thoughts
to the question of schools and churches. Then all the denominations
simultaneously began their work. A church was organized at Leavenworth
by our brethren, in which S. A. Marshall and W. S. Yohe were the
leading members. Dr. Marshall had formerly been a resident of
Pennsylvania, and W. S. Yohe was from the South, a slave-holder, a man
of considerable wealth, and of eminent personal excellence.

The church that had been built up in 1855 at Mt. Pleasant had fallen
to pieces in the troublous times, and was now reorganized at what has
come to be known as "The Old Union School House," a place that has
been hallowed to precious memories, because of the great revival that
took place under the labors of D. S. Burnett in the year 1858.

The brethren that lived along the valley of the Stranger Creek and its
tributaries, and that had met to worship two years before under the
spreading elms that lined its bottoms, now organized themselves into a
church at a village called Pardee. This ambitious little town was
located on the high prairie; but it shared the fate of many other
Kansas towns, equally aspiring and equally ill-fated. When the
railroads were built they followed the courses of the streams, and it
was left out in the cold; but for a time it was the center of social,
political and religious influence in the county outside of Atchison.

Among the brethren that had been in Kansas from its first settlement,
and whom we have not mentioned, were John and Jacob Graves, brothers
from Tennessee, who have since grown rich in worldly goods, and richer
still in good works. There were also Brethren Landrum and Schell, and
many others whom we can not name. In the fall of 1857 came Lewis
Brockman, who loved the church more than he loved his own life. He was
brother to that Col. Thomas Brockman conspicuous in the Mormon war in
Illinois, which resulted in the exodus of the Mormons to Salt Lake,
there to build up a kingdom that cherishes a deadly and undying hatred
to the United States, its people, and its institutions. Norman
Dunshee, now Professor in Drake University, Des Moines, Iowa, also
came to Kansas from the Western Reserve Eclectic Institute at Hiram,
O., in the fall of 1859, and settled at Pardee. Dr. S. G. Moore, of
Camp Point, 111., who came in the spring of 1857, was brother-in-law
to Peter Garrett; and these two men were of one heart and one soul in
their aspirations for a larger liberality on the part of Disciples and
a better order of things in our churches; but they had to take up the
sad refrain so oft repeated: "We have found the Old Adam too strong
for the young Melancthon." Dr. Moore was a man that, when he knew he
was in the right, pushed his enterprises with such a rigorous purpose
as sometimes to alienate from himself men who might have been won by a
more complaisant temper. His stay in Kansas was limited. The dwelling
in which he lived was struck by lightning, and Bro. and Sister Moore
were seriously injured. From these injuries Sister Moore has never
fully recovered. With broken health she became homesick, and pined to
be among her kindred. Moreover, a valuable farm that Dr. Moore had
sold at Camp Point fell back into his hands, and he felt constrained
to return to Illinois in 1861. With such elements of power the reader
will not think it strange that we should go to work with a will to
recover the ground we had lost in this social and political turmoil
and religious inaction.

The writer did not travel much abroad this summer; he found too much
to do at home. We had meetings every Lord's day, and had frequent
additions by letter and by baptism. One day, as my manner was, I gave
an invitation to sinners to obey the gospel. There had been no
indication, however remote, that any would desire baptism; but my
daughter, Rosetta, now thirteen years of age, came forward and
demanded to be baptized. Two years before I had brought her, then
eleven years of age, with her mother, to Kansas. Some part of this
time we had spent in the very presence of death; and Rosetta and her
mother would not have thought it strange if a company of men had come
into the house at night with murderous intent. I have not told in
these "Recollections" how many times I felt it expedient to be away
from home; and then Rosetta was her mother's only companion. Of young
company such as girls usually have at her age, she had almost none. We
had talked of these daily occurring tragedies until they had lost both
their terror and their novelty. These certainly were not fitting
surroundings for a little girl, intelligent and thoughtful beyond her
years, and of an unduly sensitive and nervous organization. But she
was her mother's only girl, this was our only home, and, coming out of
the furnace fires of such a life, we could not think it strange that
she should feel the need of a Heavenly Father in whom she could trust,
of $ Savior's arm on which she could lean, and of a home in the church
where she could find help and sympathy.

One thought was ever present in my heart, how far could brethren
co-operate together who had been on opposite sides? To learn what
could be done I made the acquaintance of brethren everywhere. The
brilliant and erratic Dr. Cox, of Missouri, had sent an appointment to
"Old Union," and Oliver Steele came with him. I attended his meeting,
and Bro. Steele, Cox and myself accepted the hospitality of Bro.
Humber. Bro. Cox, being now in the presence of a man reported to be a
live Abolitionist, opened a discussion on the question of slavery.

I had been brought up on the Western Reserve, Ohio, and inherited
intense anti-slavery convictions. But I had learned from the writings
of A. Campbell to judge slave-holders with a charitable judgment. They
had inherited the institution of slavery from their fathers, and like
the aristocratic institutions of the old world, it had come down to
them without any fault of their own. My experiences in Kansas
certainly had not made me love slavery any better; still, all this,
how bitter soever it might be to me, had revealed so much of real
nobility in the hearts of many slave-holders that it had not impaired
my feeling of good will to them. If I were to grant that they had been
associated sometimes with men of desperate morals, had I not also been
associated with Jim Lane, and had I not been compelled to hide myself
behind the old maxims, that "Politics, like poverty, makes us
acquainted with strange bedfellows?"

And so I argued with Bro. Cox the views I held, stoutly asserting
them, when, for a wonder to him, Bro. Steele and Bro. Humber expressed
themselves as coinciding with my views much more than with the views
of Bro. Cox, who held the ultra Southern, John C. Calhoun theory of
slavery. It appeared that these brethren held that if Providence has
given to the Caucasian descendants of Japheth, a fairer skin, a higher
style of intellectual power, and greater force of will, that the same
divine Providence has given to the sons of Ham a darker color to their
skin; but that all are alike the children of the love of one common
Father; that Jesus died for all, and that he will not suffer with
impunity any indignity to be offered even to one of the least of these
his brethren. To the inquiry why these brethren did not give that
freedom to their colored servants which they asserted was their
natural right, they made reply, alleging the unfriendly legislation
not only of the slave States, but of the free States; and that had
interposed grave difficulties in the way of such a step. The Big
Springs Convention had framed the first Free State platform for
Kansas, August 15, 1855, and this, with hard-hearted inhumanity, had
avowed the purpose to drive out of Kansas the free blacks as well as
the slaves. The same principle was also incorporated in the Topeka
Free State Constitution.

It will throw additional light on this subject if I mention that, in
1858, one year after this conversation with Bro. Cox, when the Free
State men had obtained control of the Territorial Legislature, Bro.
Humber went to Lawrence and laid before Judge Crosier, a leading
member of the Legislature, from Leavenworth, the following
proposition. He said: "I will emancipate my slaves, and will sell them
land. I want them to remain where I can look after their welfare. I do
not want them to be driven out of Kansas." Judge Crosier, while
greatly sympathizing with Bro. Humber, had to tell him the thing was
impossible. It is comforting to know that "The world do move;" that
colored people do freely enjoy in Kansas now the rights Bro. Humber in
vain sought of a Free State Legislature then on behalf of his slaves.



CHAPTER XXVII.

The reader has already heard of Big Springs as a locality where Free
State Conventions were wont to be held. Lawrence and Topeka were
twenty-five miles apart, and both were on the south bank of the Kansas
River. Big Springs is midway between these towns, and is situated on
the high divide, lying between the Kansas River and the Wakarusa.

Here, at Big Springs, were located four brethren, L. R. Campbell, C.
M. Mock, A. T. Byler and Jack Reeves. Bro. Campbell was a Disciple
from Indiana, of much more than average attainments, and of great
force of character. In his immediate neighborhood, and as he had
opportunity, he was a preacher, and when a church was organized he
naturally became its leader and elder. His early death seemed the
greatest calamity that ever befell the church, though he raised a
family of boys that in process of time have taken his place, and make
his loss seem not irreparable.

C. M. Mock was not a preacher, yet there is many a preacher that might
well be proud to make himself as widely and as favorable known as
"Charley Mock," and to be remembered with as much affection. He only
remained in Kansas a few years, and then returned to his original home
in Rushville, Rush county, Indiana. We may truthfully say, "What was
our loss was their gain."

Bro. Byler was simply a large-hearted and kind-natured farmer from
Missouri, who was too full of brotherly love to have anything of
sectional prejudice about him. George W. Hutchinson, whom we will
hereafter introduce to our readers, used to call him his
"Big _Boiler_." His death after a few years was sad and pathetic; he
had been to Lecompton and driving a spirited horse; the horse took
fright, and threw him from his buggy and killed him.

Jack Reeves was the son of B. F. Reeves, of Flat Rock, Ind., so long
the venerated elder of that church, and a sort of patriarch over all
the churches. And the above-named brethren, as well as a number of
others, hearing that I was preaching near the Missouri River, sent for
me to come and make them a visit. I accordingly did so, and now, for
thirty-one years I have not forgotten to visit them, and they have not
forgotten me. From this time forward I preached for them as I had
opportunity, and thus began to make the acquaintance of brethren south
of the Kansas River. The church grew apace. At their organization they
had twenty-five members. Two years afterwards they were able to report
a membership of seventy-two persons.

The year 1857 passed rapidly away. My time was divided between working
on my claim on Stranger Creek, preaching for the churches that had
been organized, and making the acquaintance of brethren wherever I was
able to find them.

And now the year 1858 was upon us, predestinated to bring with it
consequences far-reaching, as touching the future of Kansas. In this
year should be settled the question that had filled the Territory with
agitation, tumult, and war for four years; and it was in this year
that our Kansas missionary work was begun, and in which was organized
the first missionary society. The time was the early spring of 1858.
The place was "Old Union," a little, log school-house situated in a
ravine opening into Stranger Creek bottoms. The _personnel_ were,
first, Numeris Humber, with his tender heart and quenchless love for
missionary work. Then there was his sister wife, that with saintly
presence and sacred song made us feel that this was the very house of
God and gate of heaven. Judge William Young was also present, who had
neither song nor sentimentality about him, but in his unpoetic way
looked at everything in the light of cold, hard fact. And yet Bro.
Young is neither cold nor hard, only on the outside. There also was
Spartan Rhea (these brethren were all from Missouri), whose fine sense
of honor and upright conduct we have already had occasion to commend
while acting as justice of the peace during our former troubles.
Joseph Potter was also there, and so, also, was Joseph McBride, a
notable preacher of Tennessee, that many years ago was one of the
pioneers that planted the Christian cause in Oregon. All told, we had
a crowd large enough to fill a little, log school-house. Brethren Yohe
and Marshall, of Leavenworth City, also gave us assurances of their
hearty help and sympathy. This Dr. S. A. Marshall was a brother-in-law
to Isaac Errett, and always deeply interested himself in this work of
building up the churches. The church at Pardee was also represented.
And this constituted the make-up of our first missionary society.
Three churches represented, and enough persons decently to fill a
little seven-by-nine log school-house. Let us learn not to despise the
day of small things. As for the amount of money pledged--well, it
would not have frightened even one of those little ones, that are
scared out of their wits at the thought of an over-paid, over-fed,
proud, luxurious and domineering priesthood. As for the missionary
chosen to go on this forlorn hope--to explore this Africa of spiritual
darkness, it was Hobson's choice; it was this or none. Except myself,
there was no man to be thought of that would or could go on this
errand, and so there was no contest over the choice of a missionary.

Conspicuous among these early churches were the churches that were
formed in Doniphan county. This is the most northeastern county in the
State, and is in a great bend of the Missouri River, having the river
on three sides of it. It is a body of the best land in Kansas, and no
county had at its first settlement as many Disciples. Their first
beginning was unfortunate. A man named Winters, calling himself a
preacher, came among them and made a great stir. But he brought with
him a woman that was not his wife. With a character unblemished this
man would have won an honorable fame; but when questioned he
equivocated, but was finally compelled to confess the shameful truth,
and in their grief and shame the newly-organized church seemed broken
up. Jacob I. Scott was a man of spotless life and dauntless purpose,
and feeling that it would be an unspeakable humiliation to allow
everything to go to wreck because of the frailty of one unfortunate
man, and learning that I had taken the field in the counties further
south, he besought me to come over and help them. In no counties in
this State have there been more churches than in Doniphan county, but
in no county in the State have the churches been more evanescent and
unstable, and yet it is not because these brethren have apostatized,
but it is that the men that have settled in Doniphan county are men
that keep on the borders of civilization, and the opening of a great
empire for settlement to the west of them tempted them to move onward.
Indeed, this has been the case in all the churches in Eastern Kansas.
Just as soon as we would gather up a strong church it would
straightway melt out of our hands, and its members would be scattered
from Montana to Florida, and from the Missouri River to Oregon.

Some twenty-five miles to the northwest of my place of residence, in
what is now Jackson county, on the waters of the Cedar Creek, was a
settlement mainly from Platte county, Mo. The best known of these was
Bro. John Gardiner, whose heart now for thirty years has held one
single thought, the interest and prosperity of the Christian Church.
He has sacrificed much, has labored much, and has done a great deal of
preaching without fee or reward. Bro. J. W. Williams, from
Southeastern Ohio, a man of saintly character and indefatigable
purpose, was also of this settlement. There also we organized a
church.

The places for holding meetings were of the most primitive kind. A log
school-house was a luxury; the squatter cabins were too small; but we
had to use them during the winter. The groves of timber along the
streams were always waiting; but, we only could use them in fair and
pleasant weather, and for six months in the year. As for hearers, we
were never lacking an audience, we were never lacking for a crowd that
were ready to listen with honest good-will to the message which we
brought them.

It was an eventful summer. More rain fell than in any season I have
known. The streams were always full, the bottoms were often flooded,
and crossing was sometimes dangerous; but I had a good horse and was
not afraid.

In religious matters everything was broken up, and men were drifting.
But this good came of it, that they were ready to listen to this
strange and new thing that was brought to their ears, in which so much
was made of the Lord's authority, of apostolic teaching and apostolic
example, and so little of traditions, theories, and time-honored
observances, of which the Bible knows nothing, but which have been
sanctified by universal acceptance.

As for myself, there had been romances enough about my life to make
the people wish to see me, and I was proud to know that the boys could
remember my sermons and repeat them. The men with whom I was
immediately associated in this work, and who had sent me on this
errand, were of inestimable advantage to me. They were well and
favorably known as men of unblemished reputation in Eastern Kansas and
Western Missouri. "Old Duke Young," as the father of Judge William
Young had been affectionately called in Western Missouri, had been an
eminently popular frontier and pioneer preacher, and Judge Young had
inherited an honorable distinction as being the son of such a father;
and when it was known that I was acting with the concurrence and under
the approval of such men, the arrangement was generally accepted as
satisfactory.

And now I had my heart's best desire. I was in the field as an
evangelist; the harvest was abundant and the grain was already ripe
and waiting for the sickle. But above all, and beyond all these, was
peace in the land. We all had had a lover's quarrel, but we had made
it up and were the better friends. Everywhere they had their joke with
me, as to my method of navigating the Missouri River, and to the
attire I sometimes put on; but I had come out the upper dog in the
fight, and could afford to stand their bantering. There is a warmth,
freshness, and enthusiasm in the friendships formed under such
conditions that can never be transferred to associations of older and
more orderly communities. As a result of this summer's work, here were
seven churches full of zeal and rapidly growing, and occupying a field
that had been almost absolutely fallow, for outside of the towns there
was no religious movement except our own.

But at one point we were put at a very great disadvantage. Older and
better established denominations were able to plant missionaries in
such cities as Atchison, Topeka and Lawrence, while we were not; and
yet in each of these cities there were from the first a small number
of brethren, who might have served as the nucleus of a church.
Speaking in general terms, monthly preaching never built up a church
in any city, and the reader will see that in the very nature of things
I could not set myself down to the care of a single congregation.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

The same causes that have made me a preacher, have also made me an
abundant contributor to our periodical literature. As I wish to
present a living picture of these early days, I will, from time to
time, furnish extracts from the contributions I have made to our
religious journals:

[Written for the Christian Luminary.]

OCENA P. O., Atchison Co.,
Kansas Ter., May, 1858.

Having myself had a very full experience of the advantages
and disadvantages, the trials, pleasures and perils of a
pioneer life, I propose to write a series of essays on the
matter of emigrating to the West.

While a grave necessity demands that many shall emigrate
to the West, it is not to be denied that it is an
enterprise fraught with many dangers to the moral and
spiritual well-being of the emigrant. We have here men
from the four quarters of the civilized world, and have
thus congregated together all the vices found in Europe
and America. The semi-barbarism of the Irish Catholicism
of Tipperary and Clare is now fairly inaugurated in
Leavenworth city. All the horses of the livery stables are
hired to attend an Irish funeral, and as the mourners take
a "_wee bit of a dhrap_" before starting, they are lucky
if they get the corpse well under ground without a fight.
By this time, having become over-joyful, they raise a
shout, and with a whoop and hurrah they start for home,
and the man that has the fastest horse gets into the city
first. The unlucky traveler, whose horse gets mixed up
with theirs in this stampede, and who thus involuntarily
becomes one of the company at an Irish wake, has need to
be a good rider.

German infidelity has been nurtured in Germany by a
thousand years of priestly domination and oppression, and
is now translated into our Kansas towns by Germans, who
have no Lord's day in their week. Corresponding with our
Lord's day, they have a holiday--a day to hunt, to fish,
to do up odd jobs, to congregate together and listen to
fine music, dance, sing, feast, drink lager beer, and have
a good time generally. Under the best _regimen_ it is hard
for men to keep their hearts from evil; but here, it is a
fearful thing for young men, released from all the
restraints of their native land, to find the house of
revelry and dancing so near the house of God, and the
gates of hell, alluring by all the fascinating and
seductive attractions of harmonious sounds, so near the
gate of heaven.

I am appalled at the amount of drinking and gambling that
has existed in Kansas, especially in the Missouri River
towns, for the last three years, Under the shade of every
green tree, on the streets, in every shop, store, grocery
and hotel, it has seemed as if the chief business of the
people was to gamble and drink.

There are other causes full of evil, and fearfully potent
to work apostasy and ruin in the West. Men come here, not
to plead the cause of a suffering and dying Saviour; not
to give to the people a more pure and self-denying
morality, and a higher civilization; but to get rich. They
have had a dream, and are come to realize that dream. They
have dreamed of one thousand acres of land, bought at one
dollar and a quarter per acre, that by the magic growth of
some Western town becomes worth fifty thousand dollars.
They have dreamed of money invested in mythical towns,
which towns are to rival in their growth Toledo, Chicago
or St. Louis. The dream is to do nothing and get rich.
Land sharks, speculators, usurers and politicians who
aspire to a notoriety they will never win--a station they
will never occupy--swarm over the West thicker than frogs
in Egypt, and more intrusive than were these squatting,
crawling, jumping pests, when evoked from the river's
slime by the rod of Moses.

Some men are too old when they come to the West. They are
like a vine whose tendrils are rudely torn from a branch
around which they have wound themselves, and are so
hardened by time that they can not entwine themselves
around another support. Such men forever worship, looking
to the East. They form no new friendships; engage in no
new enterprises; they care for nobody, and nobody cares
for them. They live and die alone.

But there are more sad and gentle notes of sorrow that
fall upon our ears. The children mourn for the peach tree
and the apple tree, with their luscious fruit. The
mother-wife asks who will watch the little grave, or tend
the rose tree growing at its head, or who will train the
woodbine, or care for the pinks and violets? Then sadly
she sings of home--"Home, sweet home!" The father, too,
remembers his pasture for his pigs, his calves, and sheep,
and cows. He remembers that on one poor forty acres of
land he had a house, a barn, an orchard, woodland, maple
trees for making maple sugar, a meadow, room for corn,
wheat, oats and potatoes, besides pasture for one horse,
two oxen, three cows, together with a number of sheep and
pigs, Then there was the three months' school in winter,
and four months in summer. There was the Sunday-school and
the church, where serious and honest men uttered manly and
religious counsel to sincere hearts, which nurtured good
and holy purposes. All this he has bartered away for the
privilege of being rich--of having more land than he knows
what to do with; more corn than he can tend, and pigs till
they are a pest to him.

Having glanced at some of the evils attendant on Western
life, I must hasten to indicate what class of men should
come to the West. The poor of our cities, whose poverty
becomes the more haggard by being placed in immediate
proximity to measureless profusion, luxury and
extravagance--respectable people, whose whole life is a
lifelong struggle to keep up appearances, and in whom the
securing of affluence is like putting on a corpse the
frippery and finery of the ball-room; young men with brave
hearts and willing hands--these are the classes that may
come, and should come, to the West. And if Adam, realizing
that the world is all before him, where to choose, looks
to the West to find his Eden, I would respectfully suggest
that he has an infirmity in his left side, and that his
best security against the perils of a pioneer life is to
take to himself the rib that is wanting.

The tenant, living on the farm of another man, should come
to the West. He can not plant a tree and call it his own.
God gave the whole world to Adam and his sons, and the
true dignity of every son of Adam requires that he should
be able to stand in the midst of his own Eden and say:
"This, under God, is mine."

There is yet another class of men that may always go to
the West, or to any other place. Whether young, or old, or
middle-aged--whether rich or poor--they may go, and the
blessings of God go with them. These are the men whose
hearts are full of faith, and hope, and love--who
sympathize with all, and who, consequently, will find
friends among all--who are willing to be missionaries of
the cross, and to be pillars in the churches they have
helped to nurture into life.

Kansas is full of men who were once members of our
churches, but who are stranded on the rocks of apostasy,
on whom the storms of life will beat yet a little while,
and then they will sink down into ever-lasting ruin.
Strong drink, the love of money, or, perhaps, the
inadequacy of their former teaching, is the occasion of
their fall. Others, scattered over this great wilderness
of sin, remain faithful amidst abounding wickedness, and
stretch out their hands and utter the Macedonian cry,
"Come over and help us."

The apostolic age was pre-eminently an age of missionary
effort. What will the world say of us, and of our
confident, and, as some would say, arrogant, pretense to
have restored primitive and apostolic Christianity, when
our Israel in so large a part of the great West is such a
moral wreck--such a spectacle of scattered, abandoned,
and, too often, ruined church members, unknown, untaught
and uncared for.

The peerless glory of our Lord Jesus Christ--his
measureless, boundless and quenchless love--this is the
great center of attraction around which the affections of
the Christian do continually gather. The Lord is the
center of the moral universe, and all its light is but the
emanation of his glory. He dwells in the human heart, and
fills it with his love; he dwells in the family, and
becomes its ornament as when he dwelt in the house of
Lazarus; he dwells in the church, and makes it a fold in
which he nurtures his lambs.

Christians wandering over the earth like sheep having no
shepherd, isolated from their brethren, dwelling
alone--however frequent this spectacle now--is not often
witnessed in the New Testament. There they congregated in
churches. But this experiment of isolation is most
perilous to the individual, and a prodigal expenditure of
the wealth of the church, which has souls for her hire. It
is true that a few persons become centers of attraction to
new churches that grow up around them; but very many are
lost in the great whirlpool of this world's strife.

What, then, is the remedy? Evidently this: Jesus accepts
no divided empire in the human heart. He will have all or
nothing. The Church of Christ, the cause of Christ, the
people of Christ--these must be the centers of attraction
to which the heart of the Christian turns with all the
enthusiasm with which an Eastern idolater bows before the
shrine of his idol. In return for such devotion Jesus
gives to his people every imaginable blessing. Wealth,
power, dominion, science, civilization, genius, learning,
power over the elements of nature, and insight into its
magnitude, do now belong to the Lord's people in Europe
and America as they never belonged to any people before.
Yet all these must be laid at Jesus' feet before he will
make the returning prodigal the recipient of his love.
Everything must be subordinated to our religion.

Since the almighty dollar has become the touch-stone by
which everything is to be decided, I assert that this is a
good speculation: secure a neighborhood homogeneous and
not heterogeneous. Let its tendencies be favorable to
temperance, education and religion, and in doing so a man
will have added fifty per cent, to the selling value of
his property. The present thrift, wealth, genius,
enterprise and intelligence of the people of the New
England States is the legitimate outworking of the
training bestowed on their sons by the stern, old Puritans
that first peopled these inhospitable shores.

But all temporal and earthly considerations disappear, as
fade the stars at the approach of day, when we consider
that measureless ruin, that gulf of everlasting despair,
that voiceless woe, into which the emigrant may sink
himself and family by locating in a profligate, dissipated
or irreligious neighborhood, or in a community wholly
swallowed up in the love of money, or absorbed in the
questions, What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or
wherewithal shall we be clothed? What home on the
beautiful prairies, what treasures of fine water and good
timber, what corner lots, what property in town or
country, can equal in value the guardianship of our Lord,
the indwelling of God's good Spirit, the approval of a
good conscience, the smiles of angels and the inheritance
of a home in heaven? Let no man, therefore, fall into the
folly--the unspeakable folly--of subordinating his
spiritual and eternal interests to his temporal welfare.
"Seek ye God and his righteousness, and all these things
shall be added."

To teach, to discipline and perfect the churches we have
already organized; to gather into churches the lost sheep
of the house of our Israel, scattered over this great
wilderness of sin; to try and help those who are still
purposing to tempt its dangers; and to lay broad and deep
the foundations of a future operation and co-operation
that shall ultimate in spreading the gospel from pole to
pole, and across the great sea to the farthest domicile of
man--this is the purpose which we set before us, and which
should be pursued with the zeal and enthusiasm displayed
by the followers of the false prophet of Mecca; and with
the patience of the coral workers, who build for ages and
cycles of ages their marble battlements in the waters of
the Pacific Ocean.



CHAPTER XXIX.

In 1859 I only spent part of the year preaching in Kansas. At the
earnest solicitation of Ovid Butler, the founder and munificent patron
of Butler University, I spent six months preaching in the State of
Indiana. A missionary society had been organized in Indianapolis, in
which Ovid Butler was the leading spirit, and such men as Joseph
Bryant, and Matthew McKeever, brothers-in-law to Alexander Campbell,
together with Jonas Hartzell, Cyrus McNeely, of Hopedale, Ohio, and
Eld. John Boggs, of Cincinnati, and many others, were associated with
him in the movement. By these brethren I was for some time partially
sustained as a missionary in Kansas. The formation of this society had
grown out of a difference existing between these brethren and the
General Missionary Society, touching what had become the over-topping
and absorbing question, both to the churches and the people of the
United States. As this question has ceased to be of any practical
interest to the American people, I shall spend no time in its
discussion, only to narrate, briefly, what happened to us in Kansas,
growing out of the existence of these two societies.

Ovid Butler had set his heart on this, that the brethren in Indiana
should have personal knowledge of the man that himself and others were
sustaining in Kansas. I found myself greatly misunderstood, and was
often hurt at the slights that grew out of these misunderstandings;
and I tried hard to make these brethren know just what was in my
heart, and what were the objects I was seeking to accomplish.

In the early spring of 1860 I returned to Kansas and resumed my work.
Geo. W. Hutchinson had been a preacher in what was known as the
"Christian Connection" in the New England States, and had been
eminently successful in winning converts. But these churches were
poor, and he having married a wife, his compensation did not meet his
necessities, and like many others he went to California with a hope of
bettering his fortunes. Afterwards he came to Lawrence, in Kansas,
under the auspices of the Emigrant Aid Society. But his freighting
teams having been plundered of a stock of goods, which they were
bringing for him from Leavenworth to Lawrence, he was left to fight
his battle as best he might. It was at this conjuncture that he made
the acquaintance of the brethren at Big Springs, and became impressed
with the simplicity and scriptural authority of our plea. It is well
known that there never was more than a paper wall between ourselves
and "The Old Christian Order," and there seemed nothing in the way of
Bro. Hutchison. He had in his heart no theory of a regeneration
wrought by a miracle, and which gives to a convert a supernatural
evidence of pardon before baptism, and that should, therefore, compel
him to reject the words of Jesus: "He that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved."

The Christian Brethren have been supposed to have some leaning to
Unitarianism, but he betrayed no such leaning. But while he had no
love for the barbarous language in which Trinitarians have sometimes
spoken of the divine relation subsisting between the Father, Son and
Holy Spirit, yet he was willing to ascribe to our Lord all that is
ascribed to him in the Holy Scriptures. Thus joyfully he accepted this
new brotherhood he had found in Kansas, and our churches just as
joyfully set him to preaching. We needed preachers, and here was one
already made to our hand.

Early in the spring of 1860 the weather came off exquisitely fine. It
was like a hectic flush--the deceptive seeming of health on the cheek
of the consumptive. It was a spring without rain, in which the sun was
shining beautiful and bright, in which the evenings were balmy and
pleasant, and the road good; but to be followed by a summer of
scorching heat, of hot winds that burned the vegetation like the
breath of a furnace, leaving the people to starve. The inhabitants of
Kansas will never forget the year 1860, the drought and the famine.

It was in the springtime, in the midst of this beautiful weather, we
called Bro. Hutchinson to come to Pardee and help us. This protracted
meeting resulted in a great ingathering. It was largely made up of
young men, who, for the time being, were located on the eastern border
of Kansas, but that in the stirring and stormy times that were to
follow were to be scattered over every part of the Great West. And now
Bro. Hutchinson's fame as a revivalist began to spread abroad, and
many neighborhoods where there were a few Disciples, and who were
anxious to build themselves into a congregation, sent for him to come
and help them; and thus our churches rapidly grew in number, and our
acquaintance with the brethren was greatly extended. As a result,
there came to be a common feeling among them that we ought to come
together in a State, or rather a Territorial, meeting. Pursuant to
such a purpose, a general meeting was called at Big Springs, Aug. 9,
1860, C. M. Mock having been called to the chair, and W. O. Ferguson,
of Emporia, having been made secretary.

The following churches reported themselves as having been organized in
the Territory:

                                    No. of  Members.

    Pardee, Atchison Co                 92

    Union Church, Atchison Co           60

    Leavenworth City                    70

    Big Springs, Douglas Co             72

    Prairie City, Douglas Co            44

    Peoria City, Lykins Co              23

    Leroy, Coffey Co                   108

    Emporia                             80

    Stanton, Lykins Co                  91

    Iola, Allen Co                      21

    Humbolt, Allen Co.                  12

    Burlington, Coffey Co                9

    Wolf Creek, Doniphan Co             70

    Rock Creek, Doniphan Co             30

    Independence Creek, Doniphan Co     12

    Cedar Creek, Doniphan Co            16

    Olathe, Johnson Co                  10

    McCarnish, Johnson Co               40

    Oskaloosa, Jefferson Co             10

    Cedar Creek, Jackson Co             30

Thus of organized churches there were reported 900 members, and of
unorganized members it was ascertained there were enough to make the
number more than one thousand.

We find on record, as having been adopted at this meeting, the
following resolutions:

_Resolved_ That the thanks of this Convention be tendered
to the Christian Missionary Society, at Indianapolis, for
the service of Bro. Butler as a missionary in Kansas, and
that the Society be requested to sustain him until the
churches in Kansas shall be able to sustain their
preachers.

_Resolved_, That Brethren G. W. Hutchinson, Pardee Butler,
Ephraim Philips, S. G. Brown, W. E. Evans, and N. Dunshee
be recommended to the confidence and support of the
brethren as able and faithful preachers of the gospel.

WHEREAS, The brethren of Southern Kansas are in destitute
circumstances; and

WHEREAS, Bro. E. Philips, having spent much of his time
preaching, without fee, or reward, needs pecuniary
support; and

WHEREAS, Bro. Crocker is about to visit the East;
therefore,

_Resolved_, That we commend Bro. Crocker as worthy to
receive contributions made on behalf of Bro. Philips.

_Resolved_, That we will encourage and, so far as we have
ability, sustain by our prayers and means those who labor
for us in word and doctrine.

_Resolved_, That we are in favor of Sunday-schools and
Bible classes, and that we will use our influence to
sustain social meetings in all our churches.

_Resolved_, That when we adjourn, we adjourn to meet at
Prairie City, on Wednesday before the second Lord's day in
September, 1861.

_Resolved_, That the thanks of this Convention be tendered
to the brethren of Big Springs for their kindness and
liberality during the sessions of this Convention.

On motion, the Convention adjourned to the time and place
appointed.

C. W. MOCK, Chairman.

W. O. FERGUSON, Secretary.


The convention in its results was full of encouragement and joy.
Insignificant as had been our beginning two years before, here were
twenty churches and more than one thousand members ready to cooperate
together and plant the cause in this infant Territory. This meeting
also introduced us to many new acquaintances. Eld. S. G. Brown, of
Emporia, had been diligently employed planting churches along the
Neosho River from Emporia to Leroy. Bro. Ephraim Philips, at Leroy,
also at that time became known to us. Bro. Philips, after some years,
returned to Pennsylvania, and there went into the oil business with
his brother; the brothers were successful, and afterwards
distinguished themselves by a generous and Christian liberality. Bro.
Crocker also, before his death, had won a large place in the hearts of
his brethren. Elder Wm, Gans, at that time of Lanesfield, but
afterwards of Olathe, will long be remembered with earnest affection;
and it was at this time that he became known to us.

For reasons that we have already mentioned, the General Missionary
Society had done nothing for us, but seeing that we were fighting a
brave battle, and that we were keeping the peace with each other, they
felt themselves moved to help us. Eld. D. S. Burnett was at this time
employed preaching in Western Missouri, and was deputed by the
Missionary Board to visit G. W. Hutchinson at Lawrence, who was
winning golden opinions as an eminently successful evangelist. Bro. H.
was not at home, but was away holding a protracted meeting, and Bro.
Burnett therefore called on his wife. Mrs. Hutchinson was a pious,
refined, and educated New England woman, who had married her husband
after he had become known as the most successful evangelist in the
"Old Christian Order" in the New England States. She had with pain
seen him turned aside from his chosen work by hard necessities, and
was now greatly rejoiced to see him once more a preacher. Bro. B. was
an accomplished gentleman, whose polished and cultivated manners
sometimes laid him open to the charge of a proud and aristocratic
exclusiveness; but this Yankee lady herself knew how to queen it, and
stood before him with no sense of inferiority. She frankly said to him
that herself and husband were abolitionists, but that they knew the
value of peace, and would do what could be done, in good conscience,
to make peace and keep it. Bro. Burnett evidently went away from
Lawrence with a good opinion of this family of Yankee abolitionists,
and Bro. H. was immediately accepted as a missionary of the General
Missionary Society. He used quietly to indicate to me that, as
touching this interview, his wife was a better general than himself,
and that it was lucky for him that he was not at home.

And so we two became missionaries, sustained by two different, and, in
one particular, antagonistic missionary societies. Of course we did
not quarrel; why should we? If I was sometimes charged with
abolitionism, was not this man blacker than myself? We often traveled
together, and held protracted meetings under the same tent. I had for
a lifetime studied this plea which we make for a return to primitive
and apostolic Christianity, and it was, therefore, my business to
press upon the people the duty to yield a loyal obedience to the Lord
Jesus Christ as our only Lawgiver and King, and thus to renounce all
human leadership and the authority of all human opinions; and it
became the business of Bro. Hutchinson to win the people by his
magnetic power, and fill them with his own enthusiasm, and thus induce
them to act on the convictions that had been already formed in their
hearts.

I take on myself to say there never have been two more diligent
evangelists than were Bro. Hutchinson and myself in the year that
followed the Big Springs Convention. Looking over the whole ground, I
am able to see that in that year was laid the foundation for that
abiding prosperity that has distinguished our effort down to the
present time.



CHAPTER XXX.

There had come to the Big Springs Convention two brethren--Father
Gillespie and his son, William Gillespie, living at St. George, on the
Kansas River, fifty miles above Topeka and about eight miles below
Manhattan. These brethren came to tell us that here were two
settlements of brethren waiting to be organized into churches; and
Bro. Hutchinson and myself both visited them during the ensuing
autumn. A military road ran up the Kansas River from Fort Leavenworth
to Fort Riley, passing through the village of St. George, But if I
were to go to St. George by this route, I would lose thirty miles of
travel, and I therefore determined to start directly west from my
place of residence. But, in doing so, I would have to cross the
Pottawatomie Indian Reserve, on which for forty miles there was not
the habitation of a white man. Stopping over night with Bro. J. W.
Williams, on the eastern border of the Reserve, I started betimes to
St. George, traveling to the west. But night came on, and I had not
reached the line of white settlements. I picketed my horse on the
prairie, made a pillow of my saddle, and slept until morning. The
night was warm and pleasant, and I did not suffer with the cold, and
in the morning I was ready betimes to ride on to the residence of Bro.
Gillespie. He was so glad to see me.  It was worth a journey of one
hundred miles to get such a welcome. And then there was Sister
Gillespie, and a house full of young Gillespies, and they were all
so glad to see me.

"Have you had your breakfast?"

"No."

"Well, where did you lodge?"

This was a poser. I attempted to pass the question by; but nothing
would do, and I had to confess I slept under the canopy of heaven.

"O, dear! O, dear!" And had it come to this that their preacher had to
sleep on the prairie! This was a family of hospitable Kentuckians, who
were born to a love of music, and the old gentleman was a fiddler, and
next to his Bible he loved his fiddle. Of course, we had a grand, good
time, and were all filled with joy; and this was the beginning of the
churches on the upper waters of the Kansas River. Twelve miles above
St. George was Ashland, where we found Bro. N. B. White, father to A.
J. White, who has hitherto been pastor of the church at Leavenworth
City; but since has been acting as district evangelist. Bro. N. B.
White came from Carthage, Ky., and long remained a faithful and
indefatigable preacher. In my experience as an evangelist, I have
known many men of superior Christian excellence; but never one man of
more singleness and integrity of heart; never one man that had a
clearer conception of the ultimate purposes and results of
Christianity; never a man whose life was more unselfish and
self-sacrificing. Being of an intensely nervous and high-strung
organization, and doing his work in a mixed population that would have
taxed the patience of Job in its management, it is no wonder that Bro.
White was sometimes misunderstood, and, like all reformers, was made
to feel that he was living before his time.

Thus passed in abundant labors the year 1860, and the time drew on for
our yearly meeting, which had been appointed to be held at Prairie
City in September, 1861. The brethren came together with real
enthusiasm. During the past year the number of Disciples had been
multiplied, and the cause had been greatly strengthened. It had been a
year of constant ingathering. New churches reported themselves at this
meeting, and brethren whom we had never known before. As evidence of
what was being accomplished I will copy a note which I find appended
to the minutes of the Prairie City meeting:

The following letter was received from a church meeting in
Monroe township, Anderson County, said church being of the
"Old Christian Order":

_To the Elders of the State Meeting at Prairie City_:

We, the Church of God meeting at North Pottawatomie, do
recommend to your honorable body, Bro. Samuel Anderson, as
our pastor. We also represent our church as in good
standing and in full fellowship, numbering twenty-eight
members.


Bro. Anderson, the bearer of the above letter, came before the
Convention and said: "It does yet appear to me that a man's sins are
forgiven as soon as he believes; but I do not think that for this
cause there ought to be a schism between us. I am willing to unite
with you in exhorting men to obey all the commands of the gospel, and
in seeking to unite all Christians on the one foundation."

But there appeared one cloud in our horizon, one cause to hinder the
perfect success of this, our second yearly meeting. The country was
full of rumors of war, and there seemed impending a great national
conflict. Bro. Hutchinson had been for one year an eminently
successful evangelist; but now he went into the Union army as an army
chaplain, and thus his work among us ceased. And now the war was upon
us; we were predestined to see dark days, and the hearts of the people
were full of forebodings of evil. Many of our young men went into the
army, and for two years the produce raised by the farmers brought
almost nothing, and many of our preachers retired from their work. And
then there appeared in the land wolves in sheep's clothing--thieves
wearing the disguise of loyalty to the "old flag," and who held
themselves self-elected to punish "rebel sympathizers," and in the
estimation of this gentry the best evidence that could be had that a
man was a rebel sympathizer was, that he owned a good span of horses.
It is said, "There is no great loss without some small gain," and
these evil days gave opportunity to some of us who owed a debt of
gratitude for kindness rendered to us when we were in sore straits, to
pay back this debt by demanding justice on behalf of loyal citizens of
Kansas, whose only offense was that they had been born in the South.

It is the purpose of this series of articles to tell how two peoples,
the one from the South and the other from the North--the one the sons
of the Puritans, and the other the children of the younger sons of the
old English cavaliers--came together and settled in one Territory; how
they were divided by the question of American slavery, and how they
strove in an antagonism as fierce as that which once subsisted between
the Saxon and Norman in Old England; how they peacefully settled their
controversy, and in one-third of a century have grown into an
eminently peaceful, prosperous, enterprising and well-ordered
commonwealth, that stands conspicuous as an illustration and proof of
the excellence of our national institutions. We are also to tell how
that, out of the furnace fires of such a strife, a community of
churches grew up that have for their purpose a restoration of
primitive and apostolic Christianity, and the unity of all Christians
under a supreme loyalty, to the Lord Jesus Christ as our only Leader
and Lawgiver, and as the great Author of our American civilization. We
are also to tell how the discipline of such a strife has created a
people of such heroic temper, that this has been the first government
among the nations to grapple with the saloon power in a final and
decisive battle, which has banished it beyond the boundaries of the
State, and has branded it as an enemy to Christian homes, an enemy to
our Christian civilization, and an enemy to the welfare of the whole
human race. Other States have paltered with the evil by means of
feeble and frivolous legislation, but Kansas has grappled the monster
by the throat by incorporating Prohibition into its fundamental law.

But, above all, we are to press upon the attention of the people the
imminence of that danger that is threatening us, and that embodies
within itself all other perils that hang over the nation. We are
threatened to be overwhelmed by a foreign and alien emigration that
brings with it the anarchy of atheism and the unAmerican and the
anti-American traditions of a paganized Christianity. We have now
fifteen millions of foreign-born citizens and of their children of the
first generation in the United States. The Rev. Josiah Strong
estimates that in twelve years their number will be forty-three
millions; and a great part of this population is now, and shall
hereafter be, under the control of Jesuit priests, that seek to
maintain in the hearts of these millions loyalty to a foreign prince,
resident in Rome, as superior to and more binding on their consciences
than is that allegiance which they owe to the United States.

The city of New York has eighty persons in every one hundred of its
population that are either foreign born or else the children of
foreign born parents. Boston has sixty-three; Chicago has
eighty-seven; St. Louis has seventy-eight; Cincinnati, sixty; San
Francisco, seventy-eight, and Detroit and Milwaukee have each
eighty-four citizens in every one hundred of their population that are
either foreign born or else the children of foreign born parents. A
nation is dominated by its cities, as England is dominated by London;
as France is dominated by Paris, and Germany by Berlin; and our great
cities have already become foreign cities, controlled by a foreign
vote, and dominated by a foreign public opinion. Here in Kansas, in
cities where there is a dominant element of foreign born citizens, we
have to invoke the power of the State to compel obedience to our
temperance laws on the part of this alien and un-American population;
otherwise they overawe the city government and rebel against the laws.
Self-evident it is that the presence of such a population is a threat
against our social and domestic life, against our government, and
against the Christian religion. But the presence of such an evil calls
for union among ourselves. Poland was dismembered and ceased to
exist among the nations, because of intestine strifes and divisions
among its nobility, who were its governing class; and in the presence
of such a danger menacing the American people it would be a madness
unspeakable in us to keep up among ourselves either our religious
feuds and bickerings, or the animosities heretofore existing between
the North and South.

We must be one people, or this nation will surely perish. And this
oneness is not to be brought about by the utterance of feeble
platitudes, nor by the hypocritical profession of a good-will we do
not feel; we must follow the guidance of that Book of all books that
God has given us, by exhibiting that robust and manly courage that
looks the truth and the whole truth squarely in the face. After making
all necessary discount and rebate because of faults and infirmities,
there is enough yet remaining of solid and essential excellence in the
citizens of every State in this nation that they can afford to have
the honest truth told about themselves. Is the sun less glorious
because there are spots on the sun? Is the moon less beautiful because
the man in the moon does not wear a handsome face?

On the late Fourth of July there was a rallying of the clans of the
veterans--the men in blue and the men in gray--on the field of
Gettysburg, to commemorate the battle they fought twenty-five years
before, and to do honor to the bravery displayed by each man in
fighting for what he honestly thought to be the right. This was as it
should be. But there ought to be the celebration of another battle--it
ought to be, even though it may never occur--that should never be
forgotten. In that battle there was no dreadful carnage as on the
battlefield of Gettysburg; there were no desperate charges made by
cavalry and infantry; there was no heroic courage displayed under the
pitiless peltings of a deadly hail of shot and shell; there were no
great generals of national reputation in command, but humble men unknown
to fame, in the final result came together, and with honest speech said,
"We will shake hands and be friends. We will let bygones be by gones,
and see what can be done by a united effort to promote the welfare of
all."

Now we insist that Kansas is worthy of more honor than Gettysburg. But
as in this wicked world the best men do not get the highest honor, nor
the best deeds the highest praise, we will be content to bide our
time, knowing that the Lord does not forget, and that he will speak a
good word for us at the great judgment day.

Kansas led the nation in the abolition of American slavery; Kansas
ought a second time to lead the nation in a universal amnesty, so that
there shall be nothing to hinder that we shall preach the gospel to
the devotees of the mother of Babylon, and to the millions of godless,
Christless heathen that are thrown upon our hands, thus making them
good Christians that they may be good American citizens.



CHAPTER XXXI.

In 1862 our yearly meeting was held at Emporia, and in 1863 at
Ottumwa. These meetings were little better than failures. Yearly
district meetings were kept up in Northeastern Kansas, in which more
vigor was manifested.

And now the writer began to feel the pressure of hard necessities. For
five years I had kept myself in the field on a salary utterly
inadequate to my needs, and had been gradually running into debt, and
these debts had to be paid. In anticipation of the future wants of my
children, I had invested my available means in land; but as this land
was not improved, it yielded me no return. In the distress that came
on the people in those days, one means of making money presented
itself, and many availed themselves of it. Gold had been discovered at
Pike's Peak, and thitherward had flocked a great multitude of people.
There were no railroads, and all supplies had to be carried across the
plains in freighting wagons. This business was carried on by the
roughest class of a rough and frontier population; still, it was an
honest business, and honest men might lawfully engage in it, provided
they had the hardihood to face the dangers and exposures of such a
life.

During the years 1862, 1863 and 1864, I went into this business with a
small freighting outfit. This certainly was not just the thing for a
preacher to do, but necessity knows no law. In the spring of 1862,
Bro. James Butcher was going to Denver with a freighting train, and he
with myself agreed to go in the same train for mutual convenience.

The President, Abraham Lincoln, had ordered a draft, and many young
men in Missouri had found themselves in a sore strait. In the South
were their kindred, and they felt that they could not and would not
fight against their own flesh and blood; and to avoid this they
determined to flee to the gold mines in the mountains, where every man
did what was right in his own eyes--and so they came to Atchison or
Leavenworth and engaged to drive these freighting teams to Denver.
Many of them were sons of rich fathers, well educated, and had never
engaged in manual labor, much less in such menial work as this, and
when these proud and high-spirited fellows felt what an ignoble life
they had been reduced to, the reader may well believe they did not
feel good-natured over it. And now, when these young gentlemen came to
understand that they were to be associated with a man that was
reported to be the representative of the hated Yankees, who had made
war on the people of the South, and set free their slaves, they
bitterly attacked me in wordy warfare. Of course I defended myself.
And so day after day, in the intervals while our cattle were grazing,
we debated every question relative to slavery that has been debated
within the last fifty years. Their hearts were bitter; they were
passionately excited, and would often end the talk, which they
themselves had begun, With noisy profanity. They seemed to think they
had this advantage of me, that they could swear and I could not.

We were now traveling up the valley of the Platte River. It was the
month of June. The weather had become rainy and there were frequent
showers. One night we had corralled our train on an almost dead level
bottom, and I was sure, from the appearance of the heavens, that we
should have a storm. Bro. Butcher had been taken sick and had returned
home, and, except myself, there were none to think or care what was
coming; and yet it was plain to be seen that the air was thick and
sultry, and the heavens overcast with clouds, and that everything
betokened a tempest. Our canvas-covered wagons had been so crowded
with merchandise that we could not get into them, and we had slept on
blankets on the ground; but here on this dead level bottom, in case of
a heavy rain, we would be drowned out by the flooding of the ground. I
dragged under my wagon a number of ox-yokes, and with these and some
strips of boards I made a platform, and on this I laid a narrow
pallet, and crept under the wagon, where I would be sheltered from the
rain by the wagon-bed above me. During the night there fell frequent
showers, and the boys were soon drowned out from their pallets on the
ground. They were tired and sleepy; they were homesick and in bad
temper at their mean and unaccustomed surroundings, and were inclined
to hold the Yankees responsible for it all, and they began to curse
and swear in rough and bitter speech. Then there came on the most
awful thunder storm I ever witnessed. Vivid flashes of lightning kept
the whole heavens illuminated with a blaze of light, while a thousand
electric lights would not so have turned night into day around our
corral of train-wagons. Crashing peals of thunder were in the air, and
the bolts seemed to descend to the earth around us. Then there came
down a flood of rain that was as if a water spout had burst above our
heads. I looked out from my narrow bed, and could see the boys
gathered in groups, standing leaning against their wagons, soaked to
the skin, and their faces white with ghastly paleness; but not a word
was spoken. They had forgotten to swear. Then there was a lull in the
storm, which subsided into a drizzling cold rain, and I went to sleep.

When morning came we were a sorry looking lot. The boys were soaked,
and chilled, and _blue_, and dreadfully homesick. Words would not tell
what these poor fellows would have given if they could have been where
they could have been coddled and petted by their mothers and sisters.
I saw that a warm cup of coffee and a substantial breakfast would do
them good, and I hastened to have it provided. They came with alacrity
at the call for breakfast, for they were hungry. When a good square
meal had somewhat thawed them out, I said, "Boys, what made you quit
swearing last night?" The one who was usually their spokesman, and
who knew how to be a gentleman if he had a mind to be, said
reverently, "We were afraid." From this time forward our debates over
slavery and the Southern Confederacy were at an end, or if we had them
it was in a friendly way. Given a fair chance, these boys were not so
bad as they seemed.

In the summer of 1864 we had reached the "Cutoff," and were within
eighty miles of Denver. It was late on Saturday afternoon when we got
to the Bijou Ranch. We were tired and our teams were tired, and we
debated for some time whether we should drive ten miles further, where
we would find better feed for our oxen. We did so, though it took us
till midnight; and there we rested on Sunday. This was providential;
for it was on this Sunday that the Cheyenne Indians made their
memorable raid and plundered the trains, burned the ranches and stole
the horses for three hundred miles along the Platte River. They
attacked the Bijou Station that we had left on Saturday, but they did
not venture any nearer Denver; consequently we were safe. On our
return we saw how the people had been murdered, the trains plundered
and the ranches burned along our route; and it presented a terrible
spectacle. A man named Butler was killed and scalped on the Little
Blue River, and the people in Kansas got the word that it was myself.
Immediately on my return home I rode up to the church at Wolf Creek,
in Doniphan county, where we had a district meeting appointed. It was
to them as if I had come from the dead. I went home for dinner with my
old friend, Bro. John Beeler. I noticed his little boy peering
attentively at me; he climbed upon a bedstead close behind me, then,
jumping down, he ran to his mother, and, pulling Sister Beeler by the
apron, said, "Ma! Ma! The Indians did scalp Bro. Butler; I can see it
on the top of his head." The reader must know that, like "Old Uncle
Ned," I have no hair on the top of my head.

But, in spite of disasters and hardships, and dark and stormy days,
our churches continued to grow and prosper, and we kept up a vigorous
and aggressive church organization. On Sept. 27, 1864, the churches of
the State came together at their fifth annual State meeting at
Tecumseh, Shawnee county. Here the brethren organized a missionary
society, fashioned after the plan of our General Missionary Society,
and in which life directorships, life memberships and annual
memberships were obtained by the payment of a sum of money.

The writer of these Recollections will explain that the formation of
this Society was not his work. He doubted whether the brethren were
prepared for it. Nevertheless, he was willing to be governed by the
majority. By resolution of the State meeting, the writer was requested
to prepare for publication with the minutes of the meeting an address,
of which the following is a copy:

ADDRESS TO THE CHRISTIAN BRETHREN OF THE STATE OF KANSAS.

_Beloved Brethren_: We present to you in these pages the
details of the organization of the Christian Missionary
Society of the State of Kansas. We hope for your approval
and ask for your contributions.

The warrior may fight for his country on the battle field;
the statesman may seek to develop its resources and
improve its laws; the husbandman may make its fields heavy
with their weight of golden grain; and those who love
domestic life may seek to create in that place they call
home a second paradise; but broader, deeper, more
comprehensive and sweeter far, is the work of
Christianity. It underlies all good, and is the only sure
basis of progress.

For two thousand years China and Japan have been without
the Bible, and what they were then, that they are now. For
two thousand years the millions of India have been left
without God and without hope in the world, and they have
only progressed into infinite degradations. The aboriginal
inhabitants of America, left without the Bible, have only
gone down deeper and deeper into a night as black as that
which brooded over old chaos.

No Herschel counts the stars, numbers the planets,
measures the length of their years and computes the number
of their days, unless his observatory is illuminated by
the rays of the Sun of Righteousness. No Luther thunders
against priestcraft, shakes the thrones of tyrants, and
wakes the nations to a new life and a new progress, save
that Luther that finds a Bible in his cell. No Franklin
calls down electricity from the clouds to carry messages
across a continent swift as the lightning flashes through
the sky, save that Franklin whose fathers brought the
Bible with them from their native land, and prized it more
than all the gold of Ophir. No mother country has had such
reason to be proud of any colony that was ever planted on
the face of this green earth, as Great Britain has had
reason to be proud of her colonies in North America, and
no colonies ever so loved the Bible. Judson, Howard,
Wilberforce, and Florence Nightingale drew the inspiration
of their benevolence from a dying Saviour's cross, and
learned of him who, "though he was rich, yet for our sakes
become poor, that we through his poverty might be rich."

Christianity, as it was given by Jesus to the apostles,
and by the apostles to mankind, was as perfect as the God
who gave it. Our whole duty then is this, that we should
restore primitive and apostolic Christianity again to the
world. Many reformers have sought to do this; but they
have only reformed in part. Though they fled from Babylon
they stopped short of Jerusalem.

We can not pause in this work which we have begun. We can
not allow ourselves to grow cold and our churches to die.
We must go forward in that path in which the rays of our
glorious sun--the Sun of Righteousness--grow brighter and
brighter unto the perfect day.

God does not make Christians as he created Adam out of the
dust of the earth. He works by _means_: "How shall they
believe in him of whom they have not heard?" God works
through the voice of the Bible scattered over the world.
If any doubt this, let them reflect that among all the
millions of men that inhabit the whole earth not one
becomes a Christian save him who either hears or reads of
a crucified Saviour.

Money is the sinews of this war. True, there is peril in
money. It is not safe to be rich; and it is admitted that
by wealth preachers may be corrupted. But this is not the
present danger. The present peril is, that haggard want,
stalking in at the preacher's door, will paralyze his
tongue, make his knees feeble and his hands heavy, and
turn away his heart from his proper work to the question,
What shall I eat? and what shall I drink? and wherewithal
shall I be clothed? The preacher is told to put his trust
in the Lord. But when, after long waiting, no ravens come
to feed him, he sometimes loses his heart, and says, "I go
a fishing." Surely the brethren will not have a
controversy with the Lord. They will not deny that he has
appointed that "they that preach the gospel shall live of
the gospel."

It is by no weak, sickly, faint-hearted, lukewarm,
languid, and spasmodic efforts that the cause is to be
kept alive. God will have all or nothing. This is an age
in which, if never before, both good men and bad men are
truly in earnest. The devil is fearfully and terribly in
earnest "Therefore rejoice you heavens, and you that dwell
in them Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and of the
sea! for the devil is come down to you, having great
wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time."

_We must give till we feel it. The widow's mite was most
precious in the eyes of Jesus, because it was her all_.

The objects we aim at are unquestionably scriptural. "Go disciple
all nations." This was the Saviour's last command. To sustain our
missionaries by the free-will offering of our brethren--this is
also scriptural.



CHAPTER XXXII.

In the year 1865 the State meeting was held at Prairie City. Meantime,
however, a vigorous local district organization had been maintained
from the first in Northeastern Kansas. This year its annual meeting
was held at Leavenworth City, continuing from the first till the 4th
of June. In addition to the ordinary purposes for which this meeting
was held, it undertook to perfect the Missionary Society that had been
organized the preceding year at Tecumseh.

Among all the conventions held in Kansas, whether of State or
District, this must be regarded as the most notable:

1. It offers devout thanksgiving to the Lord for the return of peace
to the nation: "_Resolved_, That with hearts full of gratitude to
Almighty God, we hail the return of peace to our long distracted
country."

2. After seven years of labor, beginning in 1858, and ending in 1865,
notwithstanding the disorders of the period, this Convention is able
to give a tabulated report of seventy-nine churches organized in the
State with their bishops, deacons and evangelists, and having an
aggregate of 3,020.

3. It is able to report a missionary society, that in the eight months
intervening between the Tecumseh State meeting and the present
Convention, has collected and paid over to its four evangelists--J; H.
Bauserman, Pardee Butler, S. G. Brown and J. J. Trott--the sum of
$827.

4. The Convention was able to adjourn, full of hope and enthusiasm,
and to promise itself that it would do a still better work in the time
to come.

The names of the following persons appear as the accredited messengers
of the churches: Leavenworth--J. C. Stone, G. H. Field, S. A.
Marshal, H. Allen, J. T. Gardiner, Calvin Reasoner. Ottumwa--J. T.
Cox, Wm. Gans, J. Jenks, Peter Smith. Tecumseh--J. Driver, M. Driver,
A. J. Alderman. Americus--W. C. Butler, S. S. Chapman. Le Roy--S. G.
Brown, Allen Crocker. Little Stranger--J. H. Bauserman, S. A.
Lacefield, J. Adams, J. P. Bauserman. Iola--S. Brown. Nine Mile--N. D.
Tyler, J. T. Goode, H. Dickson. Garnett--J. Ramsey, H. Cavender.
Holton--E. Cope, J. P. Nichols, T. G. Walters, A. B. Scholes.
Pardee--Pardee Butler, N. Dunshee. Belmont--J. J. Trott. Monrovia--J.
N. Holliday, John Graves, Caleb May. Mt. Pleasant--Joseph Potter,
Thomas Miller, Joseph McBride, N. Humber. Olathe P. E. Henderson, John
Elston, Martin Davenport, Addison Bowen. Lanesfield--O. S. Laws, Wm.
Maxwell, H. C. Maxwell. Prairie City--H. H. Johnson. Buck Creek--C. M.
Short, Thomas Finch, Martin Stoddard. Grasshopper Falls--James Ritter,
S. Smith. Winchester--Cyrus Taylor, A. R. Cantwell.

But we wait for a period of seventeen years, then Eld S. T. Dodd, of
Topeka, is appointed by the Kansas Christian Missionary Society to
write a history of the work of the Christian Church in Kansas, which
he does in a tract of thirty-eight pages; and Bro. D., writing under
date of 1882, makes the following summary of the work done:

From 1856 to 1865 anything like church work was as good as
thrown away, except as affording temporary privileges.

Finally a time came when the clatter of arms and the
clatter of raiders were ended; railroads were built, and
emigration poured in from all States and nations, among
which were many Disciples of Christ, who should have been
builded into existing churches, or collected into new
ones; but many were permitted to drift along in
carelessness and irresponsibility until their identity as
members has been lost.

During the past five years there has been a general
awakening among our brethren, which has resulted in very
many new organizations and the possession of Atchison,
Topeka, Wichita, and several other strongholds.


Bro. Dodd makes report of the following State meetings as having been
held in Kansas:

In 1869, Grantville; in 1870, Le Roy; in 1871, St. George;
in 1872, Emporia; in 1873, Topeka; in 1874, Olathe; in
1875, Ottawa, in 1876, Manhattan; in 1877, Emporia; in
1878, Gates Center; in 1879, Emporia; in 1880, Manhattan;
in 1881, Salina; in 1832, Emporia.


To the above summary the writer will add the following list of the
earlier Territorial and State meetings:

In 1860, Big Springs; in 1861, Prairie City; in 1862,
Emporia; in 1863, Ottawa; in 1864, Tecumseh; in 1865,
Prairie City; in 1866, Ottawa; in 1867, Olathe.


To the above statistics we will append the following reflections:

1. Among the preachers that prominently appear in the first seven
years of our work, there are none remaining, save the writer of these
Recollections, Some are fallen out by the way. Elders S. G. Brown, Wm.
Gans, N. B. White, S. A. Marshal and Allen Crocker have died in the
faith and hope of the gospel. The name of J. H. Bauserman does,
indeed, appear, but he had only just begun his work; but having put
the armor on, he has never laid it off. The name of J. B. McCleery
does not yet appear on the minutes of our yearly meetings, still he
was already an evangelist. He had been in Ohio the friend and
companion of James A. Garfield, and soon came to be known as one of
the first pulpit orators of the State. The government, like death,
"loves a shining mark," and claimed Bro. McCleery for its service, and
he is now an army chaplain. The churches will never cease to regret
his choice, and yet he had a right to make it.

2.  The facts do not bear out the remark of Bro. S. T. Dodd, that
"from 1856 to 1865 anything like church work was as good as thrown
away." With seventy-nine churches organized, and with upwards of three
thousand church members in the State, work could scarcely be said to
be "as good as thrown away."

3.  Notwithstanding, the facts bear witness that there were grave
imperfections in our work. After a heroic battle, fought under
insuperable difficulties, and when there was every promise of still
more brilliant triumphs, the cause went into an eclipse, from which it
emerged only after many years of disaster.

From and after the year 1875, the churches spread themselves over a
territory of two hundred miles in width and four hundred miles in
length, and a great number of men became responsible for the good or
the evil that should come on the cause of primitive and apostolic
Christianity. It is probable that since the period of which we are
speaking, 100,000 Disciples have located somewhere in these Western
Territories. If the church should now undertake to make inquisition
for these church members, and make inquiry into their present
condition, temporal and spiritual, the story of their wants and woes
would be full of pathetic eloquence.

Since the days of the apostles an enthusiasm never has been known
greater than that which was felt by the men who, under God, are
responsible for this Reformation. In the beginning of the present
century the missionary spirit among Christians was dead, and their
zeal was wasted in disgraceful squabbles over inoperative and
metaphysical opinions, or over modes of church government of which the
Bible knows nothing.

The Protestant sects were divided into two hostile camps, known as
Calvinists and Arminians. The Calvinist dogma was that Jesus died
only for the elect, who were chosen in a by-gone eternity; that all
men are spiritually as dead and helpless as was the cold dead dust of
the earth out of which Adam was created, but that God will quicken
into a new life dead sinners who are of the elect, and will give them
evidence of their acceptance by the joyful emotions which he will
create in their hearts. And so the supreme interest of men centered in
this, that they were to seek in their own hearts those raptures and
ecstasies that were evidence that they had experienced this spiritual
change. The Arminians gloried in a free salvation. Christ died for
all. But they demanded identically the same evidence of pardon
demanded by the Calvinists, and men found it just as hard to get this
Arminian evidence of pardon as to get the experience that assured them
that they were of the elect, according to the gospel of Calvinism; and
so it game to pass that this lethargy of Christians over missionary
work, and these wranglings over human opinions, had, before the
Revolutionary War, covered the American colonies like a blanket with
the spirit of infidelity. The corruption of Christianity by the Roman
Catholic Church issued in the atheism of the French Revolution, and
has created the infidelity of modern European nations; so like causes
had precipitated a similar result in America. Men were groping as the
blind grope in darkness, and then came, during the first half of the
present century, the proclamation of primitive and apostolic
Christianity. Alexander Campbell, John Smith, Jacob Creath and Samuel
Rogers in Virginia and Kentucky, and Walter Scott, the Haydens and
John Henry in Northeastern Ohio, made the people understand that the
plan of salvation is as simple as the primer of our childhood; that it
is all comprehended in this, that we must bow to the authority of
Jesus, that we must believe in him and keep his commandments, and that
the whole story is told in the four gospels and in the Acts of the
Apostles with such simplicity that he that runs may read, that he that
reads may understand, and that he that understands may act.

Alexander Campbell has said that a persecution made up of defamation,
proscription and slander may be as hard to hear as that which issues
in bonds and imprisonments; and this these early Disciples had to
bear. But the world was ripe for reformation, and the cause spread
like fire on the prairies.

Those who originally planted these churches in Kansas were, in large
part, men and women who had drawn their inspiration directly from the
founders and leaders of this Reformation. To some of them it had been
given to sit at the feet of Alexander Campbell. Others had listened to
John Smith, and had been magnetized by the inimitable wit and wisdom
of that marvelous man, and their hearts had drawn heroic courage from
his heart. Others still had been captivated by the boyish and
unstudied drollery of Walter Scott, only to be swept away by a
whirlwind of passionate appeal and terrible invective, or to be melted
with the tenderness of his portrayal of the love of Jesus. And all
these came to Kansas bearing a great cause in their hearts, and
determined to build up here such churches as they had left behind
them. But this was not all. Here were not only people among the most
refined, well informed, and pious in the nation, but here were those
who had been born in a storm of religious fanaticism, and could only
live in a whirlwind of excitement. These were the "big-meeting"
Christians. There were also those whose truthfulness was doubtful,
whose business methods were questionable, who could, on occasion,
indulge in coarse and vulgar jokes and smutty jests, and whose
religion scarce kept them outside the grog-shop. Added to all this,
there were many whose hearts were yet bleeding with wounds they had
received in that terrible struggle out of which the nation had just
emerged. And now, afflicted with poverty, drouth, grasshoppers and
starvation, we were left an agglomeration of heterogeneous materials,
to fight our own battle as best we might. We might hope for help from
the Lord, but not from our brethren in the older States. They were too
busy debating the divine plan of missionary operations to help us.

The reader may well believe that the writer of these Recollections did
not find himself carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease while
this was going on, nor did he find himself reposing on a couch soft as
downy pillows.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

Whatever may have been thought by a certain class of men, when the
writer began his work in Kansas, it is now universally admitted among
the Disciples that temperance work is legitimate church work--that the
saloon being an enemy to our homes and our families, and the greatest
peril that confronts the church and nation, its extinction is a
legitimate object of Christian endeavor.

There was a young evangelist prominently engaged with us in our early
work whose history is so sad, and whose relations, who are of the
excellent of the earth, have already had their hearts so wounded
because of him, that I have not been able to bring myself to write his
name. He was of Irish descent, and before he became a preacher, or
even a disciple, and while learning his trade, he had formed the
drinking habit. He was not a young man of brilliant gifts, but they
were solid. Moreover, he was humble, patient, industrious and
persevering, and, having excellent health and a good physical
organization, he gave promise of enduring usefulness. In short, he
belonged to that class of young men that, while the people do not
spoil them with flattery, yet the church set a great store by them. I
can not write the history of his fall, for it was not made known even
to his friends; only this, that the time came that he seemed
hesitating whether he should continue a preacher, and finally he
wholly abandoned the ministry. His wife, who was a most estimable and
Christian lady, was paralyzed with grief. At length the shameful truth
came out--he was a drunkard! A brother undertook to admonish him of
the awful fate that awaited him in the future world, but this apostate
and disgraced preacher turned fiercely around and said: "_don't talk
to me of hell! I am in hell now_!"

There was living in the neighborhood of the writer a Christian
family--though not of the Disciples--who had a boy that they regarded
as of great promise, and they did what they could to give him a good
education. After he had been for a while a school teacher, he became a
lawyer, resident in Atchison, and finally became a politician. He was
talented, social, companionable and ambitious, and soon made himself a
man of mark, and was petted and courted by the people, and was the
idol of his father and mother. All this brought him much into company.
But at that time the brewers and saloonkeepers exercised a despotism
over the politicians and public men of the city as absolute as is the
despotism of the Czar over the Russians. But there was this
difference: instead of being slaves to a great monarch, these
politicians were tools and lick-spittles to a set of coarse, brutal,
low-bred liquor dealers, who were exceptionally ignorant, degraded and
vile. These wretched and vicious corrupters of the public morals
insisted on controlling every caucus, and that the candidates, of
whatever party, should be men well pleasing in their sight. If not,
then the fat was in the fire, and the candidate was forthwith
slaughtered. The writer of these Recollections has been a Republican
as long as there has been a Republican party, and has probably loved
the party as well as it has deserved. This party, as is well known,
has assumed to be "the party of moral and religious ideas." Now I have
known, in cases not a few, men to be nominated for office by this
party--men who were respectable and Christian men, and they have
told me, and they have made the confession with shame and
humiliation--that the party managers have come to them and said, "You
are assessed so much for campaign expenses." The pretext was, that
this was for legitimate campaign work; and yet they knew that the
pretext was a lie, and that it was to constitute a corruption fund, to
be put into the saloons. And these men were thus made candidates, to
give respectability to the saloonkeepers' party, and, though they did
not go into the saloons themselves, they must pay toll to the devil
all the same.

It was under such circumstances that this boy, who had been raised in
our neighborhood, but had grown to be a man, and had entered upon
public life, now became a center of attraction to the
hale-fellows-well-met of the saloon and the caucus. The reader need
not be told that this gifted young lawyer was walking into the very
jaws of death. There were soon alarming rumors that he was becoming
dangerously addicted to drink, and his friends entreated him to save
himself while he could, and he made promise to his mother and wife to
reform. But, alas! it was too late!

I was traveling home from Topeka, and on the railroad train I met a
gentleman from Atchison--an intimate friend of this young lawyer--and
I was congratulating him on the reformation of our mutual friend. He
shook his head, and said: "don't deceive yourself. He tells me that
he can remain sober two or three months, but that then he can held out
no longer, and, not wishing to make a public spectacle of himself, he
buys a bottle of liquor, locks himself up in his room, and goes into a
regular debauch. Then, after three or four days, he is able to appear
on the streets again."

After a while the friends of this young man buried him. The doctors
gave his sickness a respectable name, and reported that he had died of
such a disease as decent people may die of, but his friends, with
heart-breaking sorrow, knew they were burying a man who had died of a
drunken debauch.

I have spoken freely of the evils wrought by our border troubles; but
now we had to realize that, taking all the men murdered in our early
feuds, and comparing them with the men murdered by strong drink in the
city of Atchison, counting man for man, there have been more men
murdered by strong drink than by all our border troubles. There have
been more women that have had their hearts broken, more children
turned into the streets, more fortunes squandered, in the single city
of Atchison than in all the Kansas war. But there is another point of
comparison. The men who wrestled with each other in that early
conflict verily thought they were right. They may have been mistaken,
but they thought they were in the right; they therefore maintained
their own self-respect. But those who have died in this battle of the
bottles and the beer glasses have lost everything--self-respect,
reputation, honor, everything; and they went to the dogs and their
souls went to perdition.

I have been a somewhat voluminous writer on many subjects now for forty
years, but all this would scarce exceed in amount what I have written in
Kansas newspapers, during a series of years, on the single subject of
temperance. Besides, I spent much time in lecturing, for the welfare of
the church and of the nation was at stake; and yet, what was done by
myself was only a drop in the bucket compared with what went to make up,
year after year, a great agitation. At length the people became so
aroused that the lawmakers at Topeka came to understand that something
must be done in the way of temperance legislation; and they gave us a
local option law. But crafty politicians obtained that cities of the
first and second class should be exempted. This was nothing but mockery.
The cities were the very places where the law was most needed, for men
from the country went into the city and there they encountered their old
enemy, the saloon. And so we kept up the agitation, and demanded that
the saloon should be prohibited throughout the State. At length the
pressure became so great that the politicians understood a second time
that something must be yielded to the popular demand, and they tried
another dodge. They said: "We will give you the privilege to vote an
amendment to the constitution incorporating prohibition into the
constitution of the State." This would at least put off the evil day for
two years, for it would take two years before such an amendment could go
into operation. But here again was seen the usual treachery. The
amendment to be voted on read as follows: "The manufacture and sale of
intoxicating liquors shall be forever prohibited in this State, except
for medical, scientific and mechanical purposes." This was a
stumbling-block laid in the way of feeble-minded Christians, for was not
this an attack on their Christian liberty to use intoxicating wine at
the Lord's table, and would not this be awful? Moreover, it forbade a
farmer to manufacture _hard_ cider from his own orchard, and would not
this be a _hard_ and tyrannical law? This was vexatious, for we were
fighting the saloon, and were not seeking to palter with such frivolous
and intermeddling legislation. Nevertheless, in spite of these crafty
attempts to excite popular odium against the amendment, it was adopted
by a majority of more than eight thousand, and it became the duty of the
next Legislature to enact a law enforcing the amendment. Then some of us
waited on these "conscript fathers" at Topeka, and entreated them, and
supplicated them, and almost got down on our knees to them, beseeching-
them to use a little courage and common sense. The House of
Representatives was largely made up of farmers and men from the country,
and was overwhelmingly in favor of an honest temperance law; but the
Senate was largely made up of lawyers and men from the city, and was
full of treachery and open and secret enmity. And so the Senate took the
lead in making the law, and got up a bill that they purposely made as
full of imperfections as a sieve is full of holes, and sent it down to
the lower house. It was manifestly the duty of the House of
Representatives to amend the bill, but now a great scare was got up. The
cry was raised: "There is treachery! treachery! You must adopt this
Senate bill without amending it, to the extent of changing the dot of an
_i_ or the crossing of a _t_; for if it goes back to the Senate it will
certainly be killed." _And yet the Senate had adopted it by an almost
four-fifths majority!_

The fact was, that these Senators, with all their bluster and bravado,
were trembling in their boots, and dared not face their constituents at
home while voting against any temperance law, however stringent, and
this gave the friends of the law good warrant to make just such a law as
was needed. And so the bill became a law; and then there followed such a
farce in the courts as might make us lose faith in our Christian
civilization and in our civilized jurisprudence. And it came to be
understood that a coach-and-four could be driven through the loopholes
that had been left in the law, and saloonkeepers began to remark,
"Prohibition don't prohibit." But from this evil we had what must be
regarded a providential deliverance. A judge was found who made up in
his own integrity and courage whatever was imperfect in the provisions
of the law, and his good example was followed throughout the State.

John Martin, a lawyer, resident in Topeka, is a solid, sensible and
honest man. His brethren of the Democratic persuasion wanted to make
him a candidate for Governor, but because they would not insert in
their platform a plank affirming that the law--because it was the
law--ought to be enforced, he declined to accept the nomination, and
Geo. W. Glick was nominated and elected. Then Mr. Glick, to
reciprocate this courtesy, appointed Martin to a vacant judgeship in
the Topeka judicial district; and a whisky case came before Judge
Martin. The principal witness undertook to play the usual dodge of
perjury and equivocation, but Judge Martin stopped the witness and
said: "Sir, you are to tell whether the liquor you bought was
whisky."

The witness again began to repeat his story of equivocation: "Well, I
called for _cold tea_, and I suppose I got what I called for."

"Stop!" said the Judge in a voice of thunder. "This witness is lying!
Sheriff, take the witness and lock him up in jail."

The Sheriff had got as far as the door when the witness called out:
"Judge, are you going to lock me up?"

"Yes, and I will keep you there till you rot unless you tell the
truth."

"Well, I will tell."

The witness was placed again in the witness box. "Now," said the
Judge, "was it whisky you bought of this saloonkeeper?"

"_Yes, it was whisky_."

The example of Judge Martin was imitated by all the courts, and
incredible sums of money have been collected as fines from the
saloonkeepers, who, with the brewers, fought the battle to the bitter
end, and appealed their cases to the Supreme Court of the United
States. But it has ended in their absolute defeat, and even these
gentlemen do now admit that prohibition does prohibit--in Kansas.
Since that time the law has been greatly amended, and the saloons have
been driven out of the State.

One evil yet remains. Just across the Missouri River from Atchison is
East Atchison, and here whisky and beer are as free as water. Of
course, this is a great calamity to us, but we wait in expectation and
hope that prohibition will yet be achieved in Missouri.

John A. Brooks lives in Missouri; we live in Kansas. This man was once
a rebel; we were loyal men. Yet we pray the Father of Mercies to spare
the life of this man, to prosper him and keep him, until he shall
achieve this great good, not only to Missouri, but to ourselves.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

This reformation in the rapidity of its growth is without parallel in
the history of Protestant parties. Those acquainted with its history
need not be told that a large number of its members were at first
drawn from the Baptists. It is indeed a matter of wonder that a
Presbyterian minister, but a short time identified with the Baptists,
should exert such an influence over them as to induce a great
multitude _of_ churches and church members to resolve that when he was
driven out of the Baptist Church they also would share his fortune,
and accept loss of reputation and exclusion from their former
brotherhood for the sake of the principles they had learned from him.
Now, when we reflect that this embraced not only young men, but old
men--men already arrived at that period of life at which it is most
difficult to change our habits of thinking and acting, it becomes a
question of profoundest interest; were these men able to make a change
so radical as to plant themselves completely on reformation
principles, and to abandon everything in their old Baptist order
incompatible therewith?

When we remember that this movement embraced gray-haired Baptist
ministers, who all their lifetime had been accustomed to lead and not
to follow, we curiously inquire, Did they do this, or did they locate
themselves on a sort of half-way ground which was a compromise between
reformation principles and old Baptistism?

Let us briefly notice wherein they changed, and wherein they did not
change.

1. They laid aside the name Baptist and took the name Christian.

2. They built upon the Bible alone, instead of the Philadelphia
Confession of faith.

3. They taught that the church began at Pentecost, rather than with
the preaching of John the Baptist.

4. They baptized men into a profession of faith in the Lord Jesus,
that he is the Messiah, rather than into a Christian experience, made
up of voices in the air, marvelous and strange sights, trances and
rapturous feelings.

5. They taught that in conversion and sanctification, the Holy Spirit
operates through the truth.

Thus far the change was radical, but here a large minority paused
and brought with them into the reformation their old Baptist Church
usages. The Baptists in the Great West and South are known as
"Missionary Baptists," and "Old Baptists," or "Hardshell Baptists."
Adoniram Judson and Luther Rice, who had been sent to Burmah by a
Congregational Missionary Society, made known to the Baptists that
they themselves had become Baptists, and had been repudiated by their
own society, and asked for help. The Missionary Baptists are by far
the most enterprising in all that pertains to the spread of
Christianity. They are the most numerous, most wealthy, best educated,
and most liberal. In translating the Bible into all languages, in
carrying it into all lands, and in sending the gospel to all nations,
they have made some amends for that unrelenting bitterness which they
have shown toward our brethren from the first day till now. We shall
glance at what has hitherto been their order by making certain
extracts from the _Central Baptist_, published in the year 1870. The
reader must bear in mind that we are writing of those old days:

In Arkansas there are but four Missionary Baptist Churches
that sustain a regular pastor, or sustain preaching more
than once a month. In North Alabama, two; in the whole of
Alabama, twelve; in Missouri, twenty-seven. Missouri has
six hundred white churches, with a membership of fifty
thousand, which have preaching once a month. Once a month
preaching by secularized ministry! Is it any wonder that
the cause does not go forward faster? Not more than two
dozen out of seven hundred churches in Missouri have
service every Sunday.


Let us pause a moment over this picture of Southern and Western
Baptist Churches, drawn by themselves. In Arkansas but four churches
had at this time preaching every Lord's day; in Alabama, twelve, and
in Missouri twenty-four out of seven hundred! Well may the writer
ask, "Is it any wonder that the cause does not go forward faster?"

But if this was the order of the Missionary Baptists in the year 1870,
what must have been the order of the Old Baptists seventy years
before, when "Raccoon" John Smith was groping his way out of darkness
into the light of the gospel, all unconscious of his utter blindness,
that the reading of the Scriptures would conduce, either directly or
indirectly, to his regeneration or sanctification.

The people known as "Hardshell" Baptists do not wish to be called by
that name. They wish to be known as Old Baptists, or United Baptists,
for they allege that they are the lineal descendants of the United
Baptists, and that the Missionary Baptists have apostatized, and gone
away after strange gods. The Old Baptists had long been declaiming
against college-bred preachers and a hireling ministry. They had
certain pet theories concerning man's inability and God's sovereignty
concerning a certain special, supernatural, immediate and efficacious
work of grace on the heart of the sinners. They said, "If God wants a
missionary, he can send him, and maintain him, too. He needs no human
help in the conversion of sinners, whether at home or abroad. We can
find no Scripture for Sunday-schools, Bible classes, prayer-meetings,
weekly meetings, hireling preachers, missionaries or missionary
societies." So they kept to their monthly meetings and monthly
preaching.

They have no schools of learning, few educated men, no well-educated
men, no missionaries, no contributions for missionary purposes, no
weekly meetings, no weekly preaching, no weekly breaking of the loaf,
no Sunday-schools, no Bible classes, no prayer-meetings. But they have
monthly preaching, by a man who is reputed a pastor over four
churches, and who, in the nature of things, can not reside in three of
the four churches over which he professes to preside. He obtains but
meager pecuniary reward for his preaching. He therefore provides for
his own sustenance and that of his family by the labor of his own
hands. For this reason he must needs go to his appointments on
Saturday, and return on Monday morning, and is therefore comparatively
a stranger to the greater part of his four several flocks. He can not
know their daily life. A few preachers among the old Baptists
preeminently godly, self-sacrificing, and devoted to the Lord's cause,
have left their families to suffer poverty and want, and have spent
their lives in looking after the stray lambs of the flock; but this is
not the general rule. This Baptist bishop has no authority whatever in
any matter of discipline, his function being that of a moderator in a
Saturday business monthly meeting. The sitting in judgment on the
alleged acts of disorderly members belongs to the whole church, men
and women, boys and girls.

We are now prepared to take the measure of the means of spiritual
culture enjoyed by this people. It is just one sermon a month; or, if
they are peculiarly favored, it is three sermons a month. The children
are left at home. They run wild like so many young apes, and wander
along the streams or through the forests; or, if they are brought by
their parents to the meeting, there is nothing especially for them.

It will be well for us to ponder well the inevitable consumption and
slow decay that is surely wearing out these Old Baptist churches. Like
the house of Saul, they are growing weaker and weaker. What a contrast
between their condition now and seventy years ago. Then the United
Baptists were the most powerful religious body in the great West. Then
Jacob Creath and Jeremiah Vardeman could, if they had been so
disposed, have elected the Governor of Kentucky. Then the Baptists
were strong in the affections of the people, and strong in the memory
of those men who had, through incredible toil, obloquy, poverty and
loss of goods, planted the Baptist cause in the American wilderness.
Alexander Campbell, with his eminent gifts of eloquence and learning,
was welcomed among the Baptists almost as an angel from heaven. But
his well-meant efforts to work a reformation in the Baptist churches
were despised, and he was thrust out as a heathen man and publican.

What treasures untold reside in the Lord's house, the Lord's day, the
Lord's book, and the ordinances of the Lord? It is the glory of
Christianity. Now let the members of a Christian Church fail to meet
at the Lord's house for Christian worship on the Lord's day, and to
what snares and temptations do they not subject themselves and their
children? What temptations to idleness and to wasting the Lord's day
in visiting and gossiping, or in drowsy lethargy!

The sanctification of the Lord's day by meeting in honor
of the resurrection of the Saviour, and especially with a
reference to the celebration of the Lord's supper, is
essential to the edification, spirituality, holiness,
usefulness and happiness of the Christian community. It is
not designed to throw into the shade any other duties of
the Christian Church while contending for those above
stated; but because no society save the Disciples of
Christ so regard, observe and celebrate the Lord's day. We
endeavor to arrest the attention of our fellow professors
to the great design of it and of the coming together of
the members of Christ's family on that day. When assembled
for this chief purpose, the reading of the Scriptures,
teaching, exhortation, prayer, praise, contributions for
the poor, and discipline when called for, are all in order
and necessary to the growth of the Christian Church in all
the graces of the Spirit, and in all the fruits of
holiness.--ALEX. CAMPBELL, in _Millennial Harbinger,_
Vol. I., p. 534, New Series.


And what an audacious wrong and unutterable blunder would it be for
God's chosen people to adopt an order that should defraud themselves,
their children, their neighbors and their neighbor's children of such
a glorious privilege.

If we could imagine two communities, one of which should, with their
children and their children's children, diligently devote the Lord's
day to purposes of moral, religious and intellectual improvement,
while the other community should waste the day in idle and frivolous
dissipation, what unmeasured progress would ultimately be made by one
beyond that made by the other. And to which of these two classes will
that favored people belong to whom will be awarded the high privilege
of introducing among jarring sects and parties the true millennial
church?

And do not these considerations go far to explain the contrast that is
everywhere seen to exist between Protestant and Catholic countries?
Among Protestants the day is a day to be sanctified to purposes of
religious worship, among Catholics it is a holiday.

The peculiarity of our position creates an invincible necessity that
we shall make the largest possible provision for the moral,
intellectual and religious training and development of our people.
This provision is largely found in keeping the ordinances of the
Lord's house and the Lord's day. We have made a vow, and that vow is
recorded in heaven, that we will meet together every first day of the
week to break bread. To do otherwise--to show a good-natured
imbecility of purpose--to drift helplessly along in the usages of the
Old Baptists, conscious in our own hearts that this is not the ancient
order of things, and having sternly demanded conformity to the
apostolic order, at whatever sacrifice of peace, now to suffer our own
brethren to travel on in the old ruts, rather than hazard the pain and
trouble that will be the price of reform, would be a folly so
inexcusable, a shame so unutterable, that the very stones might well
cry out against us.



CHAPTER XXXV.

Professor William H. Whitsitt, of the Southern Baptist Theological
Seminary, at Louisville, Ky., has written a book that has for its
leading feature to make it appear that the Disciples are an "offshoot
from the Sandemanians."

The Sandemanians, like the Baptists, had both faults and virtues. They
were one of the earliest sects of the Scotch Presbyterians to protest
against a union of Church and State; they practiced a weekly breaking
of the loaf; held to a plurality of elders in every church, and were
exceptionally helpful to the poor; and surely, even Dr. Whitsitt will
not call these damnable heresies. But they were also rigid
separatists. They were Calvinists of the straitest sect, and made all
their opinions a bond of union. In this they were like the Baptists,
but essentially dissimilar to the Disciples. They exalted feet washing
and the holy kiss into church ordinances, and excluded all who did not
agree with them in these opinions, just as the Baptists exclude from
the Lord's table all who are not of "our faith and order," though they
admit that those persons thus excluded are regenerated, accepted of
the Lord, and enjoy the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Differing from
the Sandemanians in the most essential element of our plea, we hold a
very remote relationship to them--that of fortieth cousin, perhaps.
The Disciples are just as evidently an offshoot from the Baptists, as
children are an offshoot from the parental stock.

Twenty years after the writer had begun his work in Kansas, he was
able to count among fifty churches which had been organized within his
knowledge, twenty-five that were dead; and there were six
meeting-houses that were left unoccupied or sold for debt. And the
church members would say to me: "We can neither preach, nor pray, nor
read the Scriptures, nor break the loaf to edification, and we are too
poor to hire a preacher. What shall we do?" They had no training,
save that training they had obtained in the old Baptist churches, or
one similar in our own, and now that they were scattered over the
great West, and were poor in this world's goods, they were indeed in a
pitiably helpless condition.

I sometimes said, "Get up a Sunday-school." But the old heads would
get together and begin to debate where Cain got his wife, or who was
the father of Melchisedec, or what was the thorn in the flesh that
afflicted Paul; or they would dispute over the mode of baptism, or the
operation of the Holy Spirit, and the boys, verifying the old adage
that the devil always finds work for idle hands to do, and not
appreciating this sort of thing, would shoot paper balls at each other
and at the old folks, and the girls would do naughty things and grieve
their mothers, and the whole thing would go up in smoke.

Nothing seemed to be left to these brethren, only the protracted
meeting and monthly preaching. To many of them "pastorating" was one
of the sorceries which, with the mother of Babylon, had bewitched the
world. These brethren seemed to have forgotten that Paul gives highest
praise to that elder that not only rules well, but so addicts himself
to the ministry of the Word and teaching as to require that he shall
be sustained by the freewill offerings of the brethren. And when we
sought an arrangement by which all should give--each man, according to
his ability--we were alarmed with fearful prognostications of evil:
"Beware! beware!" These brethren said, "You are making a veritable
Popish bull, and he will gore you to death. Beware of missionary
societies!" And when we turned to these men and besought them, "Tell
us, dear brethren, how we shall obtain, without offense, the means to
send help to those perishing churches?" they were silent. This was not
their function. Their vocation was to warn the people against Popish
bulls and human missionary societies, for which there can not be found
a thus saith the Lord, in express terms or by an approved precedent.

Meantime the churches in the older States had contributed one hundred
thousand Disciples--this has sometimes been the estimated number--as
emigrants to the great West, and these were scattered over its wide
extended Territories, and it was to be shown how far this
contribution, more precious than gold or silver or costliest gems,
should be as water spilled on the ground, or as treasure cast into the
bottom of the sea, or how far it should be as precious seed bearing
fruit, some thirty fold, some sixty, and some one hundred fold.

When our first churches were organized in Kansas, Alexander Campbell
had become old and well-stricken in years. I have already written of
the missionary society that was created in 1864, and of the great
convention held in Leavenworth City in 1865, in which we sought to
perfect the workings of that society. Within the following year Mr.
Campbell died, and the always welcome _Millennial Harbinger_ ceased
its monthly visits. The voice of Mr. C. had been a bugle blast calling
men to heroic deeds, and his overshadowing influence had restrained
from that tendency to division, for opinion's sake, which is our
inheritance from our common Protestantism. But now a great emigration
had come into Kansas from every part of the United States, and among
these were many who looked with no favor on any innovation on the
traditions of the fathers.

Mr. C. had said in his notable debate with the Rev. N. L. Rice, at
Lexington, Ky.: "Men formerly of all persuasions, and of all
denominations and prejudices, have been baptized on this good
confession, and have united in one community. Among them are found
those who had been Romanists, Episcopalians, Presbyterians,
Methodists, Baptists, Restorationists, Quakers, Arians, Unitarians,
etc., etc. We have one Lord, one faith, one baptism, but various
opinions. All these persons, of so many and contradictory opinions,
weekly meet around our Lord's table in hundreds of churches all over
the land. Our bond of union is faith in the slain Messiah, in his
death for our sins and his resurrection for our justification."

It is perfectly apparent that to harmonize these elements--often
opposite and conflicting--thus brought together in one body was no
easy task, but we had more than this to do; we were also to harmonize
the fierce antagonisms growing out of our early contests, and then to
make those brethren who had been heretofore averse to any combination
whatever for religious work other than that of the single
congregation--to make them feel the absolute necessity of united
action and cooperation. This was indeed a task most difficult. And if
the final good results have only slowly become apparent we are
entitled to the judgment of charity.

It is admitted that every liberty that God has given to men may be
abused, and has been abused. Marriage, religion, civil government, the
rights of property, eating and drinking--in short, all liberty, of
whatever kind, may be and has been abused. Still we must use our
liberty, our very existence depends upon it. I have said it already,
and I say again, if sixty millions of the American people can unite
together to promote the public tranquillity, and all citizens enjoy
more of personal liberty than they could enjoy if every county were an
independent principality, then our whole brotherhood, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, may be trusted to meet together, by their
messengers or in person, to promote necessary Christian work without
endangering our Christian liberties. If all the churches of Macedonia
could unite together to send relief to the poor saints at Jerusalem,
then, surely, the brethren everywhere may combine together to send
relief to people perishing for want of the word of life.

And so with much weariness and painfulness, and often with gratuitous
and unrequited labor, with long rides by day and by night, and much
exposure to heat and cold, to floods and storms, and to rough
treatment by wicked men--in short, with that relentless and persistent
toil which makes a man old before his time, and in which one man has
carried on the work of two men year after year, I have labored on,
never doubting, but always hoping for that good time coming, when
churches will be just, and give honest pay to honest men who do honest
work. My hope has been that if I can not live to profit by that better
order of things, it will at least be better for the men that come
after me.

The wife of a traveling evangelist will always be the proper object of
pity and sympathy, if pity and sympathy are to be given. She is not
cheered by the smiles of admiring crowds, nor does she feel the
intoxication of flattering tongues. She dwells at home in the
desolation and loneliness of a practical widowhood, and often ekes out
a meager support from a stingy and starveling salary.

But somebody has to do this frontier and pioneer work; and might it
not as well be me and my wife as any other man and his wife?

I have given a wide range to these "Recollections." In doing so, I
have not followed the example of a cowardly, corrupted and
compromising Christianity, but rather have imitated the robust and
manly courage of the writers of the Old and New Testament, who tell of
the deeds of good men and bad men, and who also use the same freedom
in speaking of the evil deeds of wicked rulers that they use in
speaking of the things that more immediately concern the spiritual and
eternal interests of men.

I have made the briefest possible mention of the hapless condition our
churches were in twenty years ago. The picture is neither flattering
nor cheering; but right royally are the churches now redeeming
themselves from the reproach they were under then. A pastor is now
being settled in each church as fast as the pecuniary circumstances of
the congregation will permit, and a grand enthusiasm in Sunday-school
work, simplifying and illustrating all its details, has made it
possible for the weakest and poorest church to keep itself alive.
Wherever there are children with their young enthusiasm--and the
children, like the poor, are always with us--and wherever there are
parents ready to lead their children in the way in which they should
go, there the permanency of a church is assured.

And now, with many misgivings as touching our immediate future, but
with an abiding hope of triumph in the end, I bid the reader farewell.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

REMINISCENCES.

BY MRS. ROSETTA B. HASTINGS.

When father went back to Illinois, after he was rafted, we visited for
several weeks among the churches where he had preached. Then we
returned with him to Kansas, to visit my uncle, and to stay on our
claim awhile, lest some person should jump it. We left our goods at
Mt. Sterling, for father had promised to preach there that winter; but
he told us that he had determined to move to Kansas sooner than he had
first expected. We ferried the Missouri River near Jefferson City, and
crossed the Kansas River in the woods, where Kansas City, Kansas, now
stands. There was little of Kansas City then, except a few warehouses
where freight was landed for Independence, which was the starting
point of the Santa Fe trail.

Claims were being taken so rapidly that we remained to hold ours,
while father returned to Illinois to preach. Two families in one room
made it rather crowded, but we had a comfortable cabin. It contained a
twelve-paned window--the only one in the settlement; cabins usually
had no windows, or very small ones. Mr. May's folks had oiled paper
over a narrow opening, which they closed with a board shutter.
I asked their little girl why they did not have a larger window, and
she said the Indians might get in. But no Indians troubled us.

When father came home, April 30th, we all ran out to meet him. But
mother's quick eye detected something wrong. "Why, I look all right,
don't I?" he asked, smiling. When we reached the house she again
questioned him, and he sat down, rolled up his sleeve, and showed us
his arm, brown with tar, and fuzzy with cotton. Then he told us his
story. They had not tarred his face, except a spot on his forehead,
where, he said, they had stuck a bunch of cotton as large as his two
fists. The road to Ocena, as our post-office was called, ran up the
bluff now known to Atchison people as Sam Kingstown. On the top of
that ridge he had stopped, and pulled off his coat of tar and cotton,
put on his clothes and come home.

A few evenings after that, we heard that a company of South
Carolinians had camped near Mr. May's house. Father said they had
probably come after either himself or Caleb May. So he went up to Mr.
May's, to see what to do about it. After he left, uncle nailed shakes
over the window, and cleaned up his old flint-lock musket, and loaded
it carefully. Aunt moulded bullets, while mother got the ax and
butcher knife, and then stuffed rags in the cracks, and brought in the
half-bushel to turn over the light, so that they could not see where
to shoot. Then we all took turns standing out in the darkness at the
corner of the house, to keep watch, and listen for the sound of guns
from Mr. May's. Father came home at eleven. He said the South
Carolinians had asked permission to sleep in an empty cabin. He and
Mr. May had followed them, and he had crept under the cabin floor and
listened, and they had seemed to be sleeping soundly. So we all went
to bed, but father slept with a revolver under his head, which Mr. May
had insisted on lending him. The next morning the South Carolinians
went quietly on their journey. We learned afterwards that they were on
their way to lay out the town of Marysville, in Marshall County, and
did not know that they were in the same neighborhood with Pardee
Butler and Caleb May.

Father wrote an account of the Atchison mob, and took it to Lawrence
to be published in the _Herald of Freedom._ The Congressional
Committee summoned him to give his testimony. While there, the
Lawrence people gave him a pistol, and insisted that he must carry it.
Father told us how the Carolinians had sworn to kill him, when they
heard his testimony before the Committee; and as soon as he heard they
were coming back, after the destruction of Lawrence, he knew that he
was in danger. Brave as he might be, he saw no good in allowing
himself to be butchered by those infuriated men, and resolved to keep
out of their way. He kept his horse picketed on the grass near where
he was at work, with saddle and bridle close by. One day as I was
helping him drop sod corn on uncle's claim--two miles from our
own--while uncle worked at his new cabin, we saw some horsemen coming
over the hill.

"They are South Carolinians," said father, and saddling his horse, he
rode in the opposite direction. In the afternoon he came back, saying
that they had followed him all day, and he had circled here and there
over the hills, and he had happened to meet two of them, one at a
time, and recognized them as some of the men who had mobbed him; and
they knew him too, but they had not dared to attack him single-handed.
He thought they were trying to get together, to attack him the next
time they saw him.-He wanted uncle to change coats and hats with him,
so that, if they saw him in the distance, they would not know him. He
wore a black coat and hat, and uncle wore a white palmleaf hat, and
had with him, in case of rain, an old-fashioned, light gray overcoat.
These father put on, and throwing a white cloth over his horse, rode
away, telling us that he would not be at home that night, and that we
need not look for him until we saw him. Day after day those men
followed him, like hounds after a wolf. Through the day he rode here
and there, spending the night with first one neighbor, then another.
One day, when uncle was working at his cabin, some South Carolinians
rode up, and not seeing father, they searched the woods and ravine
near by, and rode away. Father spent one night with Mr. Duncan, and
had just gone out of sight in the morning, when the South. Carolinians
rode up.

"Does Pardee Butler ride a bay horse?" they asked.

"No, sir," replied Mr. Duncan.

"We saw a man ride into the woods just now," said they, "that looked
like Pardee Butler, but he was riding a bay horse."

"Pardee Butler never rides a bay horse." And so they went the other
way. Father rode a spirited young "copper-bottom" horse, named Copper,
that looked either bay or gray at a distance, as the light happened to
shine.

One day, father went to the post-office after his mail, and two young
neighbors riding up, and seeing his horse hitched there, thought to
have some fun. With loud shouts they galloped up, and hearing them, he
stepped to the door, sprang on his horse, and dashed off over the
hill, with them after him. But when they reached the top of the hill
they found that he was standing on the ground behind his horse, with
his pistol levelled at them across his saddle. They were glad to make
themselves known, and own up to the joke.

Father slipped home a few minutes almost every day, to let us know
that he was yet alive, and to see if we were safe. Every night we
fastened up the house, expecting that before morning the Ruffians
would try to burst in to search for father. Those were days of
terrible anxiety for mother, for she thought every time father rode
away that it was probably their last parting. Yet she was brave and
quiet, and said little.

But father grew tired of being dogged, and told us that he was going
to Lawrence. He was gone some time and we did not know where he was.

My little four year old brother George heard much talk of Border
Ruffians, and he went around flourishing a long thorn for a dagger,
and boasting in childish accent: "Bad Border 'uffians s'an't get my pa.
I hit 'em in 'e eye wid my dagger." One day I was helping uncle drop
corn, when George came running to us, much excited. "I foun' a Border
'uffian! I foun' a Border 'uffian! I hit 'em in 'e eye! I hit 'em in
'e eye!" We ran to see what he had found, and he ran ahead, picking
up pebbles as he ran, "to fro at 'e bad Border 'uffian." What do you
think he had found? A mud turtle! And that was his idea of a Border
Ruffian. But he had a chance to see one. One day, while father was
away, two men rode up to the house, whom we knew to be Border Ruffians
by their red shirts and the revolvers in their belts. Mother told
George and me to hide behind the door, while she talked to them. They
asked for a drink of water, but while they waited for it, one of them
rode almost into the door, and looked around the room--we had only one
room--evidently looking for father. George became impatient, and kept
whispering "Let me out, let me see a Border 'uffian. I _will see_ a
Border 'uffian." And he pulled loose from me and peeped around the
edge of the door.

When father came home he brought some type, and some half-printed
papers, blackened with powder, that he had picked up in the sand on
the river bank at Lawrence, where the Border Ruffians had thrown the
_Herald of Freedom_ press and papers into the river. On the printed
side of the papers was the article he had written about his last mob.,

Years afterwards I asked father what he was doing when he was gone
from home in May and June, 1856. He replied: "I was organizing the
Republican party in northern Kansas. I first went to Lawrence, and
there the leaders insisted that I ought to visit various points in the
northern part of the State, and organize the new party, and I did so."

Soon after father's return, in June, some of the neighbors announced a
meeting for him at Bro. Elliott's, four miles from our house, of which
he speaks in Chapter XVII. To that meeting the people came armed, for
the report of the appointment had reached Atchison. They left their
guns in their wagons, or set them in convenient corners, while they
listened to the preaching; for they were determined to defend father
in case of attack.

Mr. John Quiett, who is yet one of our neighbors, was one of three men
who stood guard at the fence, watching for approaching enemies, while
father preached. But no attack was made.

Uncle Milo had taken us to the meeting; and mother asked father to go
home with us, and he replied, "Yes, I am going home once more."

Mother told him she would be glad to have him go with us, but she was
afraid to have him stay all night.

"I am going to stay at home for one night, for I have some letters to
write," was his reply.

Mother was very uneasy on the road home, for she said the Border
Ruffians would be watching for us in the woods. But we reached home
without molestation. Father sat up until after midnight, writing
letters, and then went to bed and slept safely. The next day one of
our neighbors told us that just at dark that evening she saw a band of
men ride into the woods between her house and ours, but she was afraid
to come over and tell us. Other neighbors saw them go out on Monday
morning, and ride toward town. A few days afterwards, a neighbor, who
stood "on both sides of the fence" in regard to politics, went to
Atchison, and he told us that nine South Carolinians hid in our woods
to take father that night, but they had seen his light burning so late
that they were afraid, and went back and told that he had forty armed
men, who stood guard all night, and they could not take him.

But father was not by any means the only one whom the Border Ruffians
molested. They were continually riding around the country, frightening
the people, and "pressing" horses--which was another name for stealing
them. And the Free State man who made himself prominent was liable to
be shot any time they could catch him. The Free State men kept their
horses hidden in the brush, and often hid there themselves. Every time
any of the neighbors saw several horsemen riding over the prairie,
they thought it was the Border Ruffians.

One day Caleb May saw quite a company of men riding toward his place.
He and his son and hired man stationed themselves under the bank,
where both the house and the ford would be within range of their guns.
Mrs. May was to talk to the horsemen as they rode past the house, and,
if they were Border Ruffians, she was to shut the door, as a signal to
the husband to be ready for attack. When they rode up, however,
they proved to be Mr. Speck, and about twenty other neighbors from the
lower neighborhood, who had brought their horses up to Mr. May's to
guard them from the Ruffians, who stood in great fear of Caleb May.

When the Ruffians returned to Missouri, after one of their raids, some
of them told in De Kalb, where Mr. May lived before coming to Kansas,
that they had killed him. One of his old neighbors, named Jones, rode
into De Kalb one day, and was accosted by on e of the returned Border
Ruffians with "We've got Caleb May this time; got his head on a
ten-foot pole."

"Anybody killed?" queried Mr. Jones.

"Oh, no."

"Anybody hurt?"

"No."

"Then it's a lie!" responded Mr. Jones. "I know Caleb May well enough
to know that when you get him somebody 's going to get hurt."

Mr. May had for years been a temperance man, in the midst of a
drinking population of the frontiers of Arkansas and Missouri, and
made the first temperance speech ever made in De Kalb. His oldest son,
when fifteen, had never tasted whisky. One day, when Mr. May had gone
on a journey, the boy was in town, and loafers, seeing him pass a
saloon, shouted, "Cale May's gone; let's have some fun with his boy."
So they dragged him into the saloon, and poured whisky down his
throat, and sent him home drunk to his mother. When Mr. May returned
home they told him what had happened.

At that time there was a local option temperance law in Missouri,
under which a majority of the people in a township, by signing a
petition to the court, could have the saloons abolished as public
nuisances. De Kalb was full of saloons, and there was one on almost
every road corner in the county.

Years afterwards I heard Mr. May tell the incident, and his eyes
flashed, as he said with his slow, strong emphasis, "When I came home
and heard what had happened, _you bet I_ WAS _wrathy_! I just jumped
on my horse, and I rode that township up and down, and I never stopped
until I had signers enough to my petition, and I cleaned every saloon
out of that township."

Doubtless many a man signed that petition because he dared not refuse;
for, although usually kind and quiet, few dared to face his anger.

When Lawrence was besieged, in May, a company of Free State men was
raised around here, and they sent John Quiett to Lawrence to offer
their services for the defense of the town, but were refused by Mr.
Pomeroy. Soon after the return of the South Carolinians from Lawrence
they found Mr. Quiett in the Atchison postoffice. They at once seized
him as a Free State leader, and began to debate whether to shoot or
hang him. But one of the Pro-slavery merchants of Atchison interfered,
and begged them to let him go. He got out, mounted his horse, and
started for home, twelve miles away. But the Carolinians, like Pharaoh
of old, repented that they had let him go, and soon started in
pursuit. It was a hot race, for as Mr. Quiett reached the top of each
hill he could see his pursuers coming behind him. But he reached home;
and when they came to the creek near his home, they were afraid to
pass through the woods--probably fearing an ambush--and returned to
town. But parties were sent out to take him when he was unprepared;
and, finding that he was hunted, he was afraid to stay at home nights.
I have heard Mrs. Quiett say, that one day, when her husband had been
away several days, he came home for a little while, and she gave him
something to eat. After eating he lay down to sleep on a lounge that
stood along the front side of the bed. She was rocking her baby in the
middle of the cabin, when the Border Ruffians rode up to the house,
and one of them, riding so close that his horse's head was inside of
the door, leaned forward and looked around the cabin. The door was at
the foot of the bed, and it so happened that the lounge on which Mr.
Quiett lay was so close to the bed, and so low, that the edge of the
bed just hid his body. The Ruffian said not a word, but looked until
he seemed satisfied that there was no one in the room but Mrs. Quiett,
and then they both rode away. She said that she could not speak, but
felt as though she was frozen to her chair, for she was sure that, if
they had seen Mr. Quiett, they would have shot him before her eyes.
Not until they were out of sight did she speak or stir.

Mr. Quiett and Mr. Ross went with father to Topeka, when the Free
State Legislature and Convention met, July 4, 1856, of which
father speaks in chapter XVI. Mr. Quiett says that the Free State men
went there determined to defend the Legislature. There were several
large companies of well-armed men stationed near, awaiting orders from
the Convention; and one company armed with Sharp's rifles lay behind
a board fence by the side of the road. Several speakers made excited
speeches, urging the members of the Convention to be men, and defend
their lawful rights, even at the risk of their lives. The Free State
men were wrought up to the verge of desperation. The vote was about to
be taken, whether or not to resist the troops. There was much
suppressed excitement; and, had the vote been taken then, it would
undoubtedly have been in favor of resistance. Father, in the
meanwhile, was on a committee, in a back room. Mr. Quiett began
calling for Pardee Butler. Others took up the call, and, hearing it in
the committee room, he came out. They demanded a speech on the
question in debate. He begged them to bear their wrongs patiently, and
to allow no provocation to cause them to resist the United States
authorities. He besought them to be loyal to their country, and never
fire on the old stars and stripes. Mr. Quiett said it was a powerful
speech, timely and eloquent. When he sat down the tide had turned. The
vote was taken, and it was decided not to resist the troops. Mr.
Quiett says that without a doubt that speech not only saved them from
a bloody battle that day, but that it saved the Territory from a long,
fierce war.

After they disbanded, the members of the Convention went out and sat
down on the prairie grass to eat their dinner, which each took from
his pocket, or his wagon. Mr. Quiett and Mr. Ross took theirs from the
wagon, in which they had ridden to Topeka; but father had gone on
horseback, as he usually did, and took his dinner from the capacious
pocket of his preacher's saddle-bags. Mr. Quiett said that in getting
out his dinner, father took a pistol out of his saddlebags. This
created much merriment for them, as they thought it would have been of
little use to him in case of attack. They told him that if that was
where he carried it, the South Carolinians would shoot him some day
before he could unbuckle his saddle-bags.

But father disliked very much to carry arms, and I think he never did
in his life, except for about two months during that dreadful summer.

About two weeks afterwards we started to Illinois, in the buggy. We
crossed the River at Iowa Point. About nine miles northeast of
Savannah, in Gentry county, Missouri, father was taken very sick, and
we were obliged to stop at the nearest house. The man at whose house
we happened to stop was a Mr. Brown, from Maine; and he and his family
were very kind to us. There, for four weeks, father lay sick of a
fever. One day, while mother was in father's room, Mrs. Brown
questioned me about living in Kansas, and whether the Border Ruffians
ever troubled us. So I told her how father had been treated. Father
called me into the bed-room, and said that I ought not to have told
that, under the circumstances; that it would be a dreadful thing for
us to be attacked, with him flat on his back, and we among strangers.
I replied that I thought it would do no harm, because Mr. Brown's
folks were from the North, and our friends. But he said it might bring
trouble on Mr. Brown if his neighbors should learn that he had
harbored Pardee Butler. When Mr. Brown came in at noon, his wife told
him the news. He went right in, and told father that Butler was such a
common name, that he had no idea that he had the honor of sheltering
Pardee Butler. "Now," said he, "you need not be uneasy while you are
here. Yonder hang four good Sharp's rifles, and I and my boys know how
to use them; and nobody shall touch you unless they walk over our dead
bodies."

As soon as father was able to travel we finished our journey in
safety. We visited our old friends in Illinois, and father preached on
Sundays. While we were at Mt. Sterling, he lectured on temperance one
night, and the bad fellows made a little disturbance. The previous
afternoon I had visited a little girl in the village, and we had found
and thrown away a nest full of rotten eggs. The next time I saw her
she said that her big brother was mad at us, for he was saving those
eggs, and he and some other big boys had intended to throw them at
Pardee Butler while he was making that temperance speech; but when
they went to the barn, their eggs were gone. The truth was, that her
big brother was one of many boys who were fast being made drunkards by
the village saloons.

Mother went to Ohio on a visit, and father went to Iowa to attend to
some business. On his return he met one of the State Republican
Committee, who insisted on making arrangements for him to stay in
Illinois until the presidential election, and speak for Fremont.

It was raw November weather when we started back to Kansas, with a
one-horse wagon, drawn by Copper, and a heavily loaded mule team,
driven by a boy named Henry Whitaker, who is now one of the merchants
of Atchison. Mother was sick, and we had to stop a week. Then the mud
became so deep that father had to buy a yoke of oxen and hitch on
behind the mules. Then it froze up, rough and hard, and we stopped for
a blacksmith to make shoes for the oxen, and were directed to stay
with a widow who had an empty house. She had built a new house of
hewed logs, with a window in it, and we were allowed to stay in the
old cabin. She could not keep from talking about that window.

"I've lived all my days without ary winder, an' got along mighty
well," said she. "For my part, I don't like winders; they make a house
look so glarin', like. We uns never had ary one where I had my
raisin'. But the childern is gettin' a heap o' stuck up notions these
days, an' they jes' set up that we had to have a winder in our new
house."

The weather was very cold the rest of the way, and father suffered
severely from a felon on his hand. When we reached St. Joseph the
Missouri River was frozen, and our teams were the first to cross on
the ice. Father took the teams to the top of the icy banks, and
hitched them to the ends of the wagon-tongues by means of long chains.
We traveled all day over unsettled prairie, hoping to reach Mr.
Wymer's house, on Independence Creek. We reached the place at nine
o'clock, but no house; it had been burned. It was very dark, and
bitter cold, but we traveled on. At eleven o'clock we found Mr.
Snyder's cabin, where Lancaster is now built. A little later and we
should have seen no light. A party of belated surveyors had found the
house before the family went to bed; and they were just lying down
when we drove up. In those days no one thought of refusing a traveler
lodging. The cabin was about fourteen feet square. The family had
crowded into one bed, part of the surveyors occupied the other, and
the rest were on the floor. We had not eaten a bite since morning. The
cooking stove was in a little, cold, floorless shed, and there mother
baked some corn griddle-cakes for our supper. The surveyors gave their
bed to mother and me, and the men all crowded down on the
floor--nineteen in one room. The next morning we drove on to our own
house before getting breakfast, glad to find it had not been burned.

On Sunday, May 10, 1857, a meeting was held at our house, at which
it was agreed that a Sunday-school should be organized the next
Sunday, in Mr. Cobb's grove, near Pardee. There we met nearly every
Sunday that summer, and father usually preached.

Much of his time that summer was spent in improving forty acres of his
farm, on which he raised some sod corn and vegetables, Our corn for
bread was ground in Mr. Wigglesworth's treadmill, turned by-oxen. We
had no fruit for many years, but a few wild sorts, and the vegetables
were a welcome variation in our diet of meat and molasses.

August, 29, 1857, the Pardee church was organized, at the house of
Bro. A. Elliott, with twenty-seven members. In October a frame
school-house was finished at Pardee, which was thereafter used for
church purposes. During father's absence the meetings were led by our
elders, Dr. Moore, Bro. Elliott, and Bro. Brockman. We often rode to
meeting in the ox-wagon, as did some of our neighbors.



CHAPTER XXXVII.

REMINISCENCES--CONTINUED.

Father again preached in Illinois from October, 1857, until New
Year. He preached in Pardee the rest of the winter; but in the spring
he began traveling and preaching in various parts of the Territory. It
was the wettest summer I ever knew, and he was continually swimming
streams. Mother often told him that a man who could not swim ought not
to swim a horse. But he continued to do so until the streams were
bridged, many years later. The last time he did so was in the spring
of 1871. He was riding a little Indian pony, and carried some bundles.
The Stranger Creek was full, and very cold, and when his heavy
overcoat became water-soaked, he saw that the pony was about to be
swept down the current. Sliding off from its back, he kept his arm
about its neck, thinking the water would hold part of his weight. But
he soon saw that he was pulling it down stream, so that it was likely
to be tangled in some willows, and he reached back and caught hold of
its tail, and it pulled him safely to shore. He reached home very wet,
but with bundles and overcoat all safe.

He then determined to have a bridge on the road along his boundary line.
But every man, up and down the creek, wanted a bridge on his own line,
and so there was much opposition. But he at length succeeded in
obtaining a bridge. This was the only one of father's many contests in
which he contended for a personal benefit: his other contests were all
for the good of the public.

From this deviation I will now return to the year 1858. Father was so
busy preaching in other places, that he only preached occasionally in
Pardee.

He has sometimes been accused of preaching politics. A good brother
who formerly lived in Missouri, said, not long before father's death:
"They used to tell me before I came to Kansas that Pardee Butler
preached politics, and I said that if ever I heard him begin to preach
politics, I was going to get right up in meeting, and ask him to show
his Scripture for preaching politics. Now I've been hearing him
preach, off and on, for twenty years, and I've never got up in
meeting yet, for I've never heard him preach any politics."

The only sermon that I can remember as containing any allusion to
politics, was one that he preached at Pardee that summer of 1858. It
was from the text, "Woe unto you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!
for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the
weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought
ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone." After speaking in
a general manner of Christian duties that are left undone by those who
are precise about certain theological points, he spoke plainly of the
injustice and unmercifulness of slavery, and besought Christians to be
careful how they upheld it in any manner, lest they be condemned by the
words of the text.

Another sermon that he preached at Pardee, August 1, 1858, was from I.
Kings xviii. 21: "If the Lord be God, follow him: but if Baal, then
follow him." After delineating very graphically the terrible drouth,
and the long contest of Elijah with Ahab and Jezebel, he told of the
final triumph of religion, and the merited defeat and punishment of
wickedness. He finished with an eloquent appeal from the text, "If the
Lord be God, then serve him." At the close two boys confessed their
Savior. One of them was an orphan boy, then making his home at my
father's house, and since known as Judge J. J. Locker, of Atchison,
who died last September.

But winter came, and the co-operation that had engaged father that
summer felt that they had paid all they could raise. It had not been
enough to pay a hired man, and meet our frugal expenses. Yet that was
the first money he had made for three and a half years, except by his
two trips to Illinois. He had appealed to the General Missionary
Society, and they had declined to support him, unless he would promise
not to say a word about slavery. But the people were calling to him
from every direction to come and organize churches. He decided to
appeal personally to the churches in the older States. From December,
1858, until May, 1859, he preached constantly in Illinois, Indiana,
Michigan and Ohio, collecting what money he could. He reported $365 as
the amount received, expenses $110, leaving a balance of $255. He
received enough more during the summer to make his salary #297.42.

The next summer he preached in Kansas; but was not gone all the time,
as when in other States. When preaching in distant counties he was
sometimes gone four or five weeks, but he was sometimes at home a part
of every week. When at home he worked very hard on the farm, to
accomplish what he saw must be done, that he might go back to his
preaching as soon as possible. Mother looked after the work in his
absence, and was a good manager, but there was much to which she could
not attend. Father was nervously energetic, always working and walking
rapidly. Even after he was sixty years old, although he was a slender
man, only five feet nine inches in height, with his right arm
trembling with palsy, I have known robust young men to complain that
they did not like to work for Pardee Butler, because he would work
with them, and they were ashamed to have such an old man do more than
they did, and he worked so hard that he wore them out. He scarcely
spent an idle moment. Other men could be content to pass their time in
careless conversation, but he never could. Unless he had some subject
that he thought especially worthy of conversation, he said little. He
seldom spoke of what he had done, and scarcely ever related any of the
many experiences of his trips away from home. In his backwoods boyhood
experiences he had learned to make or mend almost every article used
by a farmer. He was full of projects, always improving something on
the place. Every spare moment was used, either in fixing something
about the farm, or in reading or writing. He sometimes complained that
the days were not half long enough to suit him. He once told his
sister that the Border Ruffians never knew what a service they did him
when they rafted him, for he had leisure to think while he was going
down the river. My brother Charley once said that father was so greedy
of time he was afraid he might lose a minute. Often in the evening we
had to make room by the cooking stove for his shaving-horse, or his
leather and harness tools, while he worked until ten or eleven o'clock
making or mending some implement or harness. And often, after laboring
all day, he read or wrote until eleven or twelve o'clock at night. He
read a great variety of books and newspapers, but was particularly
fond of church history and religious books of a doctrinal nature.

He wrote much for various papers, and was a painstaking writer. He
usually wrote his articles two or three times, and the account of his
second mob that was written for the _Herald of Freedom_ he re-wrote
seven times. He could write best in the morning, and frequently read
and wrote half of the forenoon; and then worked and chored until nine
or ten at night, to make up lost time.

Few ever knew the strong desire that he constantly felt for a life
devoted wholly to study and preaching. Living, as we did in those
days, in a log house with only one room, he had no private place for
study, but read or wrote in the midst of the family. Yet neither
crying babies nor the noisy play of older children distracted him.
Often he sat, with a look of abstraction, in the midst of our
conversation; and we frequently had to speak to him several times
before we could attract his attention.

We have several hundred of his newspaper articles saved in
scrap-books. He preached altogether without notes, and never seemed to
make any especial preparation for preaching a sermon. I once asked him
how long it took him to prepare a sermon, and he replied, "Sometimes
longer, sometimes shorter, generally two or three years. Of course I
do not think of it all that time, but I seldom preach on a subject
when it first enters my mind, but let it mature. I always have several
subjects on hand at once, and when I am reading I retain whatever
strikes me as pertaining to anyone of my subjects." "When do you do
most of your thinking?" I asked. "Whenever I can; mostly on
horseback."

His education was never finished; he was a student to the day of his
death. Even during his last sickness he asked me to return a volume of
Macaulay's "History of England" that I had borrowed, so that some
one could read to him from it.

In July, 1859, he was sick for some time; but in September reports
thus: "Since I recovered from my sickness I have held a series of
meetings,--one near Atchison, which resulted in eight additions; one
at Big Springs, at which four were added by baptism; and one at
Pardee, where there was one baptized."

November 1, 1859, the Northwestern Christian Missionary Society was
organized at Indianapolis. Father attended it, and remained preaching
and collecting money until February. He collected about the same
amount as the previous year.

In March, 1860, father and Bro. Hutchinson held the meeting at Pardee,
of which he speaks in Chapter XXIX., at which there were forty-five
additions. Father preached on Sunday night. The school-house was
closely seated with planks, and crowded almost to suffocation, while a
crowd stood outside at doors and windows. Father preached on the life
of Paul, although he did not mention Paul's name until near the close
of the sermon. He spoke of him as a talented young nobleman, brought
up in ease and luxury in a great city, to whom were open the highest
positions in his nation. There were but few Christians in the land,
and they were poor and despised. But at length he felt the power of
God, and learned to love the Savior. He told how he gave up wealth and
position, and became poor and despised, and went everywhere preaching
Christ and his mighty power to save. He told of his wonderful zeal and
energy, as he traveled from country to country, preaching Christ to
eager thousands. He vividly depicted the courage with which he endured
trials, hardships, and persecutions. Then he told of his last days--a
feeble, gray-haired old man, ending his days in a prison, his few
faithful friends far away, enemies on every hand, and a painful,
violent death in store for him. Did he see the folly of his course?
And then he quoted Paul's triumphant words: "I count all things but
loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord, for
whom I have suffered the loss of all things.... For I am now ready to
be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a
good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:
henceforth' there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which
the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to
me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." After
speaking of the powerful effect of Paul's life and teachings, in
helping to transform the world, he eloquently appealed to the young
men and women to turn their ambition to life's highest object, to
follow the example of that grand old hero, and live a life of true
heroism in this world, and win honor and immortality in the world to
come.

The house rang with that rousing old hymn, "Come, you sinners, poor
and needy," and eleven young men and women rose to their feet and
confessed their Savior.

No sermon to which I have ever listened has impressed itself so deeply
on my memory as that sermon twenty-nine years ago.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

REMINISCENCES--CONTINUED.

In the spring of 1860 father rented his farm, so that he could devote
his whole time to preaching. He built a house in Pardee, that we might
live near school and meeting until George should be old enough to do
the work on the farm. There was plenty of open prairie to pasture the
cows, and George and I tended them, while mother made cheese to help
support the family.

Father traveled and preached almost constantly that summer, sometimes
alone, sometimes in company with Bro. Hutchinson.

At many of the points at which he organized churches, the old members
are now either dead or scattered. But Bro. John A. Campbell, of Big
Springs, where he built up a strong church, writes as follows of his
work there:

He told me that his first visit to Big Springs was in May,
1858. My first recollection of him was that he preached
there on the 4th day of July, of that year, when he
organized the church with twenty-eight members, my father
(L. R. Campbell) and C. M. Mock being appointed elders.
His subject on that occasion was the "Unity of all
Christians," and he spoke with great power. He again
preached there on the 29th day of August, 1858, and his
subject was "Faith." On that day the first addition to the
church was made by baptism. He continued to preach for the
church about once each month through 1858-9, and a part of
1860. During that time very many were added, but I have no
means of knowing the number. In the fall of 1859 he held a
successful protracted meeting, and another in the winter
with Bro. G. W. Hutchinson. In 1860, he was at the State
meeting at Big Springs, at which the ground plan of our
present co-operative plan of missionary work was laid.
There was also raised at that meeting money to buy a large
tent, with which Bro. Butler was to travel and preach as
State evangelist. Again, in the year 1877 or 1878 he
preached once per month at Big Springs and some adjacent
points--once on the Waukarusa, oft the subject of the
Seventh-day Sabbath, out of which grew a correspondence
for a debate, but it was not; held, owing to a failure to
get a suitable house.

In the forepart of December past our church held a
memorial service for him, and many pleasant things about
his relation to dear brethren and sisters were spoken of.
The relation between him and myself was always very
pleasant, and I delight to bear testimony to his great
ability and grand life and character. I regarded him as my
father in the gospel, and he was a source of great help
and strength to me.


The tent of which Bro. Campbell speaks was made by the ladies in the
Pardee school-house. In size it was forty by sixty feet, the roof
being shaped like the roof of a house. The second State meeting, and
many district meetings, were held in it; and father used it in his
meetings for nearly ten years, when it was finally torn up by a storm.

In the fall of 1860 the Missionary Society wished him to visit Indiana
again, to stir up an interest, and collect his salary. I find no
report of his work that winter, except this item from one of his
letters: "There have been seventeen additions at meetings which I have
recently attended--six at Brownsburg, Hendricks county, and eleven at
Springville, Lawrence county, Ind."

I have found the note-book which he kept from November, 1860, to
November, 1861, in which I find this account: He received #368.50;
traveling expenses, $72.55, leaving for his year's work, $295.95. That
was the year of the "drouth," and he apprised the brethren where he
preached of the destitution in Kansas. Dr. S. G. Moore and my uncle,
Prof. N. Dunshee, of Pardee, had been appointed to receive
contributions for destitute brethren; and they reported the receipt
and distribution of $670.96, besides boxes of clothing.

After father's return, in March, 1861, he traveled almost constantly.
I have found, in the note-book mentioned above, the time and place,
and either the subject or text of each sermon he preached that year,
one hundred and fifty-three in all. Here are some of the subjects
named: "The Gospel;" "Christian Union;" "Kings of Israel;" "Noah and
the Deluge;" "Types of the Law;" "For What Did Jesus Die?" "Baptism,
its Authority and Design;" "From Whence Ami? and Whither Am I Going?"
"The Material Results of Christianity;" and "The Kingdom of Heaven."

Father had spent all of the money that was due him from property sold
in Iowa, except a thousand dollars, with which he intended to pay his
debts, and finish paying for land in Kansas. While he was in Indiana
that spring that amount was forwarded in a draft to mother. The war
was just breaking out, and by the time she could write to father and
receive his instructions as to its disposal, the bank broke, and he
lost a large part of it. He had already been running in debt for
necessary expenses, hoping each year that his support would be
increased, and the loss in the bank threw him so much in debt that he
felt it would be impossible for him to preach much longer.

In September, 1861, he attended the State meeting in Prairie City. On
Thursday the meeting was held in an empty store-room, for the poles
had not yet been cut to raise the tent. After some preliminary
business father made a short speech, telling them that he must soon
quit preaching for them. He told them how necessary it was that
churches should be planted at once in this new State, and how he had
tried in vain to arouse the brethren at the East to their
responsibility in the matter, but that he was at last obliged to give
up and go to work, like an honest man, and pay his debts. He told them
how he had loved the work, and how willingly he had toiled and
suffered hardships, and begged them to hold out faithfully and do what
they could; and when his debts were paid, he would return again to the
work. When he closed his hearers were nearly all in tears.

Many went long distances to that meeting, the brethren and sisters
from Emporia going in a covered wagon, and camping out on the road.

Father continued to preach, however, much of the time that winter.
That part of his farm that was improved was rented for five years, and
he had no money to improve the rest. The renter proved an indifferent
farmer, and the rent scarcely sufficed to pay the taxes and winter the
cattle. So father entered the only paying business, that of
freighting, as he relates in Chap XXXI. Perhaps some may think from
reading that chapter that he only took one trip, but he crossed the
plains five times. He first went in the spring of 1862, in Bro.
Butcher's train, taking George, who was only ten years old, along to
drive one of his teams, because he could not afford to hire a driver.
It was a hard, monotonous life, driving all day and camping at night
through all weather; but the hardest part of it was that men and boys
all had to take their turn standing guard over their cattle at night.
After Bro. Butcher was taken sick on that first trip, father acted as
his boss, and on all his later trips he went as wagon-boss of some
large train owned by Atchison freighters, also taking along two teams
of his own.

The wagon-bosses were frequently rough, overbearing men, who not only
went armed, but who often treated their drivers tyrannically. They not
only cowed the boys with abusive language, but with frequent threats
of whipping, or shooting, which they sometimes fulfilled.

Father never carried arms about his person in any of his trips across
the plains. But there was something in his quiet, determined manner
that enabled him to rule even the most headstrong of the wild young
fellows who usually drove the freighting teams. He was once traveling
along, for a short time, in company with a train much larger than his
own, whose wagon-boss was a big, burly, swaggering fellow, who was
drunk much of the time. Each train was driving along behind it such
oxen as were unfit for work, and some of the other cattle became
accidentally mixed with father's drove. The boss, who was already
partially drunk, had ridden on to a ranch to get more whisky. Father
called on his own boys, and the boys of the other train--on the plains
the drivers were often called boys, even though they were middle aged
men--to help separate them. But those of the other train refused to
help. They tried in vain to separate them, until they were tired out.
As they neared the ranch father walked up to the well to get a drink,
and there sat the drunken boss on his horse. When he saw father, he
exclaimed, with a great oath, "---- ---- ----, what you driving my
cattle off for?"

"I asked your boys to help separate them," replied father, "but they
refused, and I and my boys have worried ourselves out at it. If you
will order your boys to help we will try again."

"---- ---- you, go back and get them cattle out, or I'll send you
to ---- !"

Father looked him steadily in the face, and said quietly, "I would
like to see the irons you would do it with."

"---- ---- go back and get them cattle out, or I'll shoot you as
sure as ---- !" shouted the fellow, jerking out a revolver with
a great flourish.

The frightened boys stood back, expecting to see him shoot, but
father, without moving, coolly replied, "If you want your cattle out,
you will get them out yourself; I will do nothing more about it."

The fellow, cowed by father's cool, determined gaze, put his revolver
back in his belt, rode off, called his men, and they drove the cattle
out themselves.

In October, 1862, father decided to make a winter trip, because he
could earn more money than in the summer. The owners of the train
intended wintering their cattle on the buffalo grass in the Colorado
valleys, which they found cheaper than wintering them on corn in
Kansas. The drivers were mostly Ohio boys, who drove teams because
they wanted to reach the Pike's Peak gold mines. The oxen were a lot
of wild Texas steers, and it took about half a day to get them yoked
up the first time, so that they only traveled about eight miles out
from Atchison the first day. George did not go that trip, but father
took him to town to help them start--because he said that if George
was only ten, he knew more about handling wild oxen than all those
green Ohio boys--and sent him home the second day out. It had been a
very pleasant fall; but I never saw it turn cold so suddenly as it did
that day. I remember that I spent several hours gathering in squashes
and covering up potatoes; and when I returned to the house at 3 p. M.
every leaf on the trees and every flower in the garden was frozen
stiff, pointing straight out to the southeast. It was the only time I
ever saw a frozen flower garden in full bloom. It sleeted nearly all
night, and the Texas cattle, frightened and chilled by wind and sleet,
were so wild that father and all the boys had to herd them all night
to keep them from stampeding. Their clothes were wet and frozen, for
they were not very warmly dressed, and George said he never suffered
so much with the cold in his life as he did that night.

It was a hard and stormy winter, and the Ohio boys, unused to such a
life, suffered badly, many of them freezing their hands and feet. When
they reached Denver the cattle were taken to the valleys, and father
traded his own cattle for mules. Loading his two wagons with hides, so
as to make money both ways, he and the two boys who had driven his
teams started for home. I have heard him say that he never saw weather
so cold, but that he could keep from freezing by walking. So by dint
of much walking he succeeded in reaching home without being frozen.
Their wagons were so full of hides that they had to sleep on the
ground, and he said that on waking in the morning he often found
himself buried in snow. Wood was scarce, and they sometimes had to
haul it quite a distance to build their camp fires at night, and it
was sometimes so stormy that they could scarcely cook.

During the journey one wagon-load after another of returning Pike's
Peak adventurers had fallen in with them, and kept together for the
sake of company and protection against the Indians, until they made
quite a train. By common consent--accordin' to the human nature of the
thing, as they say on the plains--father came to be considered the
boss of the train. There was a ranch near the road, kept by a
Frenchman, who had an Indian wife. He had grown rich selling whisky
and provisions, and wood and hay. When the half-frozen men, with their
hungry teams, came by, he charged them extravagant prices; if they
objected he blustered and threatened until he usually scared them into
paying what he asked. Father and his train camped there one cold
night, and some of the men went up to buy wood and hay; but he asked
such high prices for them that they went back and asked father to go
up. He was busy, and knowing the Frenchman's reputation, told them to
go back and tell him that the boss said he could not pay such
exorbitant prices, but to let them have the wood and hay, and he would
come after awhile and pay a good round price for them. The men
returned, and told what he said, but the Frenchman ordered them to
clear out, and threatened to shoot them if they came back again
without the money he demanded. He would not even allow them to draw
water from the well. Again they begged father to go up, but he said he
was too busy, and told them to go right back and take the wood, hay
and water, and if the Frenchman said anything, to tell him that Pardee
Butler told them to do it, and he would settle the bill. They went
back, the one drawing water, the others getting wood and hay. Out ran
the Frenchman, very wrathy, leveling his gun at them. "The boss told
us to take them, and he'd settle," they said.

"Who's your boss?" he asked in surprise.

"Pardee Butler."

"Pardee Butler! Oh! Oh! Pardee Butler? Take 'em! Take 'em!" he
exclaimed, dropping his gun and throwing up his hands. "Oh! Pardee
Butler! Take 'em! Take 'em!" he continued, fairly dancing around,
white with fright, and gesticulating as only a Frenchman can.

"Why, what's the matter? He wont hurt you," said one of the boys.

"Oh! Pardee Butler! He bad man. Oh! Oh!" he answered, still dancing
and gesticulating.

"Oh, no; he is not a bad man; he never hurt anybody in his life."

"Oh, yees, Pardee Butler one veree bad man! He must be one bad man,
'cause they put heem down the river on one raft, down in Kansas.
Pardee Butler must be one veree bad man!"

Father made no more winter trips, but spent his winters at lumbering.
When he first came to Kansas he had bought eighty acres of timber land
in the river bottoms, in Missouri, two miles below Atchison. Mills had
been erected along the river, and lumber was at last in good demand.
So he found profitable use for his teams, and large freighting wagons,
in working that timber into lumber.

He crossed the plains twice more in the springs of 1863 and 1864.

The Indians often visited their camps, begging for bread, or for sugar
or tobacco. Father said that on his winter trip it made his heart ache
to see the pitiable condition of the women and children, chilling
around in the loose wigwams during the winter storms. He often saw the
women out in the snow gathering up and carrying great loads of wood on
their shoulders. But he said the most pitiable sight he ever saw was
little half-starved, half-naked children, too small to walk, creeping
around under his mule's heels, eagerly eating the grains of corn that
they had dropped.

But the Indians were every year growing more restless, and often
attacked the trains, to obtain provisions, and cattle and mules.
Father often saw them peering around the bluffs, or along the river
banks, watching his movements. But he was very careful, never allowing
the boys or stock to wander off alone, and keeping guards out at
night. Knowing that the Indians were growing dangerous, Bro. Butcher
had insisted on lending him a rifle for his later trips. One day they
were traveling along the Platte River bottoms, the river half a mile
to one side, the bluffs a mile or two back on the other. It seemed
impossible for anything to hide in the low grass around them; but
father knew that here and there in the grass were wet-weather gullies,
deep enough for an Indian to lie in; and his watchful eye detected the
grass moving occasionally, here and there. He halted, telling the men
there were Indians in the grass. At first they made light of it,
saying they knew no Indian could hide in that low grass. But he told
them that he had been watching for some time, and thought the Indians
were creeping up on them from the river. He took Bro. Butcher's rifle
out of the wagon, saying, "I am going down there to see; who will go
with me?" But none of them offered to go, except a boy of sixteen,
who, seeing the rest would not go, shouldered another gun, saying,
"For shame! I wont see the old man go alone!" The two went down
through the grass, and when they reached the river, they saw a number
of Indians running away under shelter of the bank. The Indians seldom
attack determined men, who are on their guard--unless they are on the
war-path with a large force--and they saw that father was such a man,
and gave him no more trouble. It was on his last trip, in 1864, that
the Indian raid occurred, which he mentioned in Chapter XXXI. On their
return they found that armed bands of Indians were still riding about
the country. One afternoon, when they were within a little over a
day's drive of Fort Kearney, they saw a band of Indians prowling
about, first in one direction, then in another. The boys were badly
frightened, and wanted to run their teams all night, in order to reach
the fort. The weather was hot, and the oxen already tired, and father
feared that such a forced drive would kill them. So he ordered the
boys to camp for the night. They kept out a strong guard, and were not
attacked; but reached the fort in safety the next day.

The District Missionary Society of Northeastern Kansas had held two
yearly meetings in the tent at Pardee, in August, 1862, and August,
1863, just after father's return each year from his summer trips across
the plains. In August, 1864, soon after his return from his last trip,
another district meeting was held at Wolf Creek, Doniphan county, which
was the home of Bro. Beeler, and of Brethren Jonathan and Nathan
Springer. Father had held a number of good meetings there, and built up
quite a church. But when the railroads went through there the town of
Severance was built up on one side; and Highland, seven or eight miles
on the other side, which was already a Presbyterian stronghold, received
a new impetus. So the church at Wolf Creek was broken up, and one was
organized at Severance, and one has since been built up at Highland, of
which Bro. Beeler is the leading member.

Bro. Jonathan Springer--who has moved to Goffs, where he still
maintains his old-time zeal--relates an incident which occurred a year
or two before that district meeting. Father was holding a protracted
meeting, when there came into the neighborhood a young preaching
brother from one of the Southern States, running away from the Union
soldiers. Upon learning who he was, father invited him to preach, and
they continued preaching together for a week, holding an excellent
meeting, and father said not a word to him about the questions
dividing North and South. Bro. Springer said, "I always thought that
Bro. Butler was a peculiar, a wonderful, and a powerful preacher."
Speaking of his ability to attract and hold the attention of an
audience, Bro. Springer said, "I once heard him begin a sermon with
the question, 'Are we dogs, or are we men?'" At the district meeting
his sermon was on his favorite theme, "Christian Union;" and it was
two hours in length, yet he held the close attention of the audience
to the end. Although he often preached on that subject, he always had
something fresh to say. He could not crowd all that he had to say
about it into one sermon. He was constantly reading of the change of
sentiment on Christian union among other denominations, and referring
to it in his sermons.

A few years ago he preached a series of discourses on that subject at
Pardee, closing as follows: "The Protestant denominations will all
become one yet, not by other churches coming to any one church, but
their differences will almost imperceptibly disappear, and they will
all melt into one, and no one will be able to tell how it was done."

In the spring of 1865 he moved back to the farm, and spent much of the
summer in preaching. For the next four years his winters were spent in
lumbering, and his summers in preaching, and improving his farm. Even
while lumbering he preached somewhere nearly every Sunday; sometimes
at home, sometimes in the schoolhouse near his timber, and sometimes
he landed a raft at Port William on Saturday, and went across and
preached for the church at Pleasant Ridge, Leavenworth county. And
other Sundays he preached at various points easy to reach on Saturday
evening, and return to his work on Monday morning.

He rafted many of his logs to Port William or Leavenworth, and usually
helped to take them down; and there was much joking about where he
learned the rafting business. It was dangerous, however, for rafts
sometimes struck snags, or became unmanageable in the swift current,
and went to pieces.

When the Central Branch Railroad was built, the company took corn of
settlers in payment for lands, cribbing it by the road. Instead of
shipping off the corn, they shipped Texas cattle to the cribs, to eat
it up. They soon came to father in great perplexity. Their cattle
broke every fence they could build, and they did not know what to do
with them. So he told them how to build a fence the cattle could not
break, and he had a quantity of extra strong lumber sawed for that
purpose. When he called at the railroad office to receive pay for his
lumber, the clerk paid him in rolls of bills sealed up in paper, with
the value marked on the outside. After leaving the office he counted
his money, and found that one of the rolls that was marked $100,
really contained $1,000. Returning, he told the clerk he had made a
mistake. "We correct no mistakes," was the gruff reply. "Young man,
you are not doing business for yourself, but for the railroad company;
come here and help me count the money." The label had been misplaced.

The greater part of father's lumber was sawed at Winthrop, now called
East Atchison, and he did much hauling across the river on the ice.
His teams were usually the first to cross when the river froze up, and
the last to quit crossing in the spring; but as he was a good judge of
the condition of the ice, he never lost a team. I have heard my
brother George say that four or five times, when father or himself
had, by careful driving, crossed in safety with large double teams and
heavy loads, others, trying to cross behind them with light wagons,
had broken through, and either lost their teams or been saved with
difficulty. One spring the ice was thawing rapidly, and had become
quite rotten; but father wanted to take one more heavy load across,
and he drove it himself. It was drawn by several yoke of oxen, and
their weight sunk the ice so that the water spouted through the
air-holes and frightened them. He knew that the beaten track,
where the teams had trodden the ice solid, and the accumulated mud had
shaded it, had not thawed as fast as the surrounding ice, and that to
allow his wagon to swerve a foot, one way or the other, was to risk
breaking in. He ran along by the lead yoke, watching them so closely
that he did not notice where he was walking, and several times he
stepped off, knee-deep in little air-holes; but he took his load
safely over. As he went up the bank some half-drunken Germans in a
sleigh dashed down on the ice and broke through, but were so near the
shore that they easily got out. But one of father's wagons ever broke
through, and it was driven by a careless hired man. Father was ahead
with another team. He called back to the man to unhitch quickly and
hitch on to the end of the tongue, for fear the team would break
through, too, and running back, he put lumber under the wheels, and
they pulled the wagon out.

Father gave away a great deal of wood over there. In those days coal
was scarce and high, and, consequently, wood was high also. Many
families were so glad to receive the wood as a gift, that they were
willing to haul it twelve or fourteen miles. And, winter after winter,
he also kept two or three poor families supplied with wood from his
timber at home, allowing them to come and help themselves.

Father and mother were always very generous, giving freely of money,
wood, fruits, vegetables, milk, or whatever they had to spare, to
those more needy than themselves. I can not remember of ever seeing
them charge any one for a night's lodging, or turn any one away.

When father had anything to sell, he often refused to accept its
market value, because he thought it was not really worth the price. A
friend once noticed him selling seed potatoes much below the market
price, and told him that his generous habit of selling to his
neighbors so cheaply would keep him poor. He replied that the market
price was extortionate, and that his conscience would not allow him to
accept it.

In his later years he gave freely to help build various churches; and
to State and General Missionary Societies, and to the many calls for
money.

He could never stand by and order men around, but always took hold and
did the hardest of the work himself; and the excessively heavy work of
logging injured his health. He had several severe spells of nervous
rheumatism, and from that time his right arm was troubled with the
trembling palsy, which grew worse until his death. He had not been
able to write with a pen for several years, and his "Recollections"
were all written by holding a pencil in his right hand, and steadying
that with the left hand.

Once, while he was lumbering, mother remonstrated with him for wearing
himself out so fast. He replied that he saw so much needing to be
done, and done at once, he felt compelled to push his work off his
hands as fast as possible. If it shortened his life, he said it made
no difference to him, provided he could accomplish more than in a long
life of easy work. I heard him say once that we ought to make our
life-work of so much importance, that neither cold, nor storm, nor any
other hindrance should be allowed to interfere with the performance of
duty. And I seldom knew him to stop for bad weather of any kind.

In December, 1865, I had concluded to go to school a term at
Manhattan, and asked father to take me there, for it was a hundred
miles, and there was not a railroad in the State. He sent an
appointment to hold a meeting there at that time. The morning that we
were to start the thermometer was eighteen degrees below zero, and the
wind blowing keenly from the northwest. But if we postponed our
journey he would miss an appointment, and so we started. There was no
snow, the roads were rough, and we had to travel in a lumber wagon,
and were three days on the way. I was well wrapped in blankets, and
did not suffer severely, but father, on account of driving, could not
wrap up so much, and had to walk nearly half of the time to keep from
freezing. His nose and cheeks were slightly frozen the second day, for
it did not begin to moderate until the third day.

He held a good meeting of eight or ten days. There were about a dozen
baptisms, the ice being cut in the river for that purpose.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

REMINISCENCES--CONTINUED.

In May, 1867, my two-year-old brother, Ernest, was accidentally
scalded. He lingered a week, then death claimed the youngest of the
flock.

When the Central Branch Railroad was built the little town of
Farmington was laid out, a mile to the northwest of father's
house--Pardee being two miles to the southeast. Many of the original
members of the Pardee Church had helped to organize the Pleasant Grove
Church, six miles west. Father thought it would be wise to break up at
Pardee., and move church and village to the railroad town, but some
objected. Thinking that the rest would soon follow, he left Pardee,
and organized a church of twenty-three members at Farmington, October
6, 1867. Bro. McCleery held a successful meeting here the next
December, and preached once a month during the following year.

For several years much of father's time was given (gratuitously), in
caring for this church and Sunday-school, and the church soon numbered
a hundred members.

After the war many colored people came to Kansas, and a number of them
settled in the neighborhood. They had heard of father, as a friend to
the colored people, and some of them wanted to work for him. He
frequently employed them, and usually found them faithful and
efficient. They liked to work for him because he treated them as he
treated white men. As there were not enough of them in the country
places to form churches of their own, they attended our Sunday-schools
and meetings. We were much surprised to find that some of our brethren
objected to colored children being in the classes. One good old
colored man, who had been a member of the church in Missouri, was much
respected by the community. A white brother requested our deacon, W.
J. May, a son of Caleb May, to ask this colored brother to take a back
seat, and to pass the bread and wine to him last. Bro. May replied: "I
shall do no such thing; as long as I am deacon in this church there
shall be no respect of persons."

A colored man, who had been a servant in the family of one of the
governors of Virginia, presented himself for membership. He was a
neat, good-looking man, with pleasant manners, and had been a member
of Col. Shaw's colored regiment, when they so valiantly stormed Fort
Wagner. A white sister borrowed a pair of gloves, when she went up to
give him the hand of fellowship, so that she "wouldn't have to touch a
nigger's hand."

Father wanted to teach them, without giving undue offense, their
Christian duty to the colored people. He preached a sermon on the
parable of the Good Samaritan, telling how the Jews and Samaritans
hated each other, and how Jesus taught in that parable that even the
most despised of earth's races are our neighbors. He also told the
story of Peter's vision at the house of Simon, and how God taught him
not to call any man or nation of men common or unclean, but to carry
the gospel to all nations. The nearest that he came to modern times,
in that sermon, was the remark that the Jews despised the Samaritans
as much as the Americans despised the Africans. He left them to make
their own applications of the Bible teachings.

What an excitement it raised! Many said the colored people had to be
turned out of the Sunday-school, or they would leave; and some did
leave. In nearly all our churches father had to meet this prejudice,
but he remained firm in his position, that in church and Sunday-school
there should be neither white nor black, but all should have equal
rights.

In the spring of 1869 father sold his timber land in Missouri, and
paid the last of his debts. He had some money left, and the first
thing he did was to go into a book store, and spend forty dollars for
"Barnes' Notes," and "Motley's United Netherlands," and "History of
the Dutch Republic." He remarked as he did so, "I have felt the need
of these books for years, and this is the first money I could spare
for them."

Men who had seen father working with tireless energy on his farm, or
the plains, or "logging" in the timber, sometimes said: "He is craving
to get rich."

He has often been misunderstood, but in no point more than this. I
never knew a man who cared less for wealth than he. The one
all-absorbing object of his life was to preach the gospel. But he had
also resolved to have the means to pay his debts, and to have a home
for his family.

About that time he spoke to me, in substance, as follows: The one
great anxiety of my life has been to preach. I had intended to go to
Bethany, and devote my life entirely to preaching. My sore throat
caused me to give that up, but going to Iowa improved my health, and I
began to preach again. When I took my claim in Kansas it was with the
intention of holding on to the land, while I preached in Illinois,
until Kansas should be thickly enough settled to furnish me preaching
here. But you know how necessity has driven me, and how preaching for
a meager salary, and neglecting my farm, ran me in debt; and what a
hard necessity has been laid on me to pay those debts, and to improve
my farm, so that you and your mother and the boys can make a living
from it. You have no idea what a sore and bitter trial it has been to
me the last six or eight years to see the old churches going to pieces
before my eyes, and so many opportunities for planting new churches
being lost to us. There is only one thing more I must do, and then I
am determined to give myself wholly to preaching. As for myself, I
would live in a log house all my days before I would take from my
preaching the time necessary to earn and build a better house. But
Sybil has been a good and faithful wife, and has borne with
commendable patience all the trials of the hard life through which I
have led her; and it worries her to entertain so much company as we
have in her log house. With the lumber and saleable stock I have on
hand, I can build it without incurring any further debt. And then I
will be ready to preach without being dependent on any man.

The house was built; but before it was finished a series of
misfortunes befell him, that threw him in debt nearly as badly as
before. From snake-bites, disease, and accidents, he lost four or five
horses, and several head of cattle, and the cholera killed nearly a
thousand dollars' worth of his hogs.

He went to work again, but somewhat discouraged, for he saw that his
long-deferred hope of devoting his entire time to study and preaching,
could never be realized. He was nearly sixty, and had broken his
constitution by hard work, and could not much longer have endured the
incessant riding and preaching of a traveling evangelist, even could
he have been supported. The boys were then old enough to do much of
the farm work, and from that time he preached more constantly, but
spent more or less time at hard labor.

For several years he was employed, for a small salary, at monthly
preaching, by churches at Big Springs, Valley Falls, Round Prairie,
and other points.

In the fall of 1875 he concluded to visit once more the churches for
which he had preached before coming to Kansas, and bid farewell to his
old friends. He accordingly spent the following winter in a preaching
tour throughout Iowa and Illinois.

The State Meeting at Emporia, in 1877, in his absence, elected him
President of the Society. Unable to find a State evangelist who would
undertake the difficult task of reviving the old churches that had
perished--which he thought was the work most needed at that time--he
took the field himself. At the State meeting held at Yates Center the
next year, he made the following report: "Time spent, five months;
sermons preached, one hundred and fifty; churches organized, two;
compensation received, $186.36." He also revived many scattered
churches and Sunday-schools, and obtained regular preaching for some
of them. He was greatly worried over the churches of this part of the
State. They had been much weakened, and some of them nearly broken up
by the tide of emigration that set into the southern and western
counties. Attempts at co-operative State and district work were
impeded by conservative papers, which prejudiced the brethren against
missionary societies, and hireling pastors. He spent much time, both
with tongue and pen, in answering these sophistries, and teaching the
churches their duties. Many of the churches were really too poor to
support regular preaching, and many that were able, thought themselves
unable to do so. Yet someone must care for them, or they would perish.
He resolved for the rest of his life to preach, without remuneration,
where such preaching was most needed. And so the last eight or nine
years of his life were spent in preaching on Saturdays and Sundays for
weak churches, and the remainder of the time in working and writing.
If a church was building a meeting house, and felt unable to support a
preacher while doing so, he preached for it until it was built. If a
church had already built, and felt oppressed with debt, he preached
for it until the debt was paid. If, from any cause, a church was weak
or disorderly, he preached for it until it was again in good order.
Then he said to the brethren: "I have helped you on your feet, now
raise the money and hire some one else to preach for you, and let me
go and help some other needy church."

Mr. Hastings and I were married in 1870, and had settled at
Farmington. From that time Mr. Hastings had taken much of the care of
the Farmington church. The church at Pardee had revived, and had been
doing well under the care of Prof. N. Dunshee; and, later on, by the
assistance of Prof. J. M. Reid, and of Mr. Hastings. But, about six
years ago, being left without a leader, they begged father to take
charge of them, although they were unable to offer him much
remuneration. He told them that it would cost them nothing, so far as
he was concerned; but that, if he took charge of them, they must
promise to support the Sunday-school liberally, and to build a church.
He, and his family, therefore, changed their membership from
Farmington back to Pardee, where he was elected elder--for he believed
that every pastor of a church should be one of its elders--and he
preached for them five years. He not only gave largely of his means to
build the church, but spent the whole summer in collecting the money,
and overseeing the building of the house. He looked after the buying
of the materials, and sent his teams to do much of the hauling, and
never stopped until the building was furnished, the insurance paid,
and his own hands had put the stoves in place.

About a year before his death, however, owing to disagreements about
the manner of conducting the Sunday-school, father resigned his
eldership, and preached at other points until his death.

But his work for others was not confined to preaching, or church work.
He had never tried to make a large town of either Farmington or
Pardee. He knew too well the perils of the city. When he helped to lay
out Pardee he made it a part of the charter that if liquor should ever
be sold on any lot of the town the deed to that lot should be
forfeited. His idea was to have a small village, with a good church
and school, as the center of a moral and intelligent farming
community. He took great interest in schools, Sunday-schools, literary
societies, and temperance work; in everything, in fact, which tended
to the moral and intellectual improvement of the young, or to the
well-being of society in general.

He spent much time in writing and lecturing on temperance, both before
and after the passage of the Prohibitory Amendment. His articles in
the papers denouncing the violation of the prohibitory law as
rebellion against the Constitution, and all the sympathizers with the
law-breakers, as rebels, stirred up such an excitement that when he
went to Atchison he could scarcely walk the streets on account of the
people, both friends and opponents, who stopped him on every turn, to
talk of prohibition. The Germans all wanted to discuss the matter with
him; but one of the leading Germans said to him one day, "You must not
expect us old Germans, who have brought our habits from the old
country, to change; but go ahead, Mr. Butler! Go ahead! The young men
are with you."

Father was sometimes accused of "dabbling in politics." If that means
that he was an office-seeker, the charge is false. Though often urged
by his friends to run for office, he invariably refused, telling them
that he considered the office of a Christian preacher the highest
office on earth. But he did think it his duty to attend elections and
primary meetings, and work against the whisky ring. He often spent
much time, in the fall, speaking and writing to secure the election of
temperance men for county officers. The final effort by which he
succeeded in arousing a public sentiment strong enough to compel the
county officers to close the saloons, was a stirring speech he made at
a temperance meeting in Atchison, in the spring of 1885,

Some have thought that father was hard-hearted. Plain-spoken he
certainly was, and sometimes harsh in dealing with those whom he
thought to be doing wrong. He was so thoroughly in earnest that when
he thought a certain way right or wrong, it was hard for him to
understand that some other way might be equally right or wrong.

Naturally high-tempered, with a very excitable, nervous organization,
it was often a matter of wonder to me to see how much self-control he
exercised, under irritating circumstances. He sometimes lost his
self-control, and said things that would better have been left unsaid;
but when he saw that he had done so he was ready to beg pardon for the
offense. But he was kind-hearted and forgiving, and ready to forget
injuries done to him.

No matter how harshly he might speak of an opponent, or wrong-doer, he
would often turn right around and do him a kindness.

One of the men who helped to raft him wrote to him three or four years
ago, saying that he was writing an account of the Kansas troubles, and
asking him for some information on points that he had forgotten.
Father readily complied with his request, telling him that he freely
forgave him, and all the rest of his old-time enemies.

Father was always ready to help the poor, the oppressed, or
unfortunate. It was that spirit of sympathy for the weaker party that
led him to side with Horace Greely in 1872, because he thought the
Republicans were too hard on the conquered Southerners. But when he
heard of the widespread Ku-Klux outrages, he concluded that he had
been mistaken, and returned heartily to the Republican party.

I heard a neighbor say a few years ago: "If any one needs help,
just go to Bro. Butler. I never heard of him refusing to help anybody
that was in trouble, no matter how much time or trouble it cost him."

Another neighbor had his house burned. He was old and feeble, and
unable to rebuild. Other neighbors thought they had done their part
when they raised a subscription to build him a new house. But cold
weather was coming on, necessitating haste. Father, not content with
giving money, looked after buying materials, and putting up the
building; sent his teams to do the hauling; and, because the ground
was freezing up, worked until late at night, digging out sand to
plaster it. And this was but one of the many instances of his
practical kind-heartedness.

He attended the State Meeting at Hutchinson about a year before his
death, where he had been invited to deliver a historical address,
sketching his own life and work, and the history of our churches in
Kansas. He was urgently requested to publish it, and from that
circumstance came the publication, in the _Christian Standard_,
of his "Recollections."

Bro. F. M. Rains said of that address, "That was the grandest speech
ever delivered on Kansas soil."

The Hutchinson _Daily News_ spoke of it as follows:

"The address was a happy blending of church history, and
personal reminiscence, full of fact, humor and pathos,
and, most of all, devotion to freedom, morality,
temperance, and godliness. Few people of today are able to
appreciate the privations, and sacrifices, and dangers,
with which the pioneer was beset, and these dangers came
with special nearness to the man whose mission, courage
and conscience made him the open and avowed foe of all
sorts of wickedness. The house was packed with intense
listeners, and from beginning to end he held the great
audience in close attention, and when he finished, the
hope that grand old Pardee Butler might live a hundred
years was the unexpressed wish of all."


Father was always fluent in prayer, and his petitions earnest and
timely; but in the last year or two of his life his prayers seemed to
grow more fervent and impressive. Mrs. Hendryx, of Wichita, writing to
me since his death, speaks thus of a prayer offered by him at the
Hutchinson Convention: "Never, while consciousness shall last, will I
forget the ring of your father's voice in prayer, at Hutchinson. I
asked, 'Who is that aged veteran? he seems almost inspired.' And they
told me it was Pardee Butler."

The earnestness and appropriateness of his prayers were most
noticeable on several funeral occasions, and numbers spoke of being
affected by them, particularly at Bro. Locker's funeral.

He preached his last sermon at North Cedar, a week and a half before
his accident. The following Saturday, September 15, he attended Bro.
Locker's funeral. The next day he attended Bro. Parker's meeting at
Pleasant Grove, where he presided at the Lord's table.

He had several appointments ahead at the time he was hurt. One of
these was to preach the funeral of his old friend, Caleb May, who had
died in Florida, August 27. His children in Florida had sent a request
to his son, E. E. May, of Farmington, that father should preach a
memorial sermon at Pardee.

Father had not done any heavy work for two years, but he still did
much light work, and choring, although his health was gradually
failing, milking eight or ten cows a day, and driving a young team
from ten to twenty miles to his appointments, almost every Sunday,
seldom stopping for bad weather.

It was reported that he was thrown from a colt at the time he was
hurt. My brothers wish that report corrected. They think he never was
thrown from a horse in his life. They had seen him break many colts,
and had never seen him thrown. He had been using the most spirited
colt on the place for his riding horse all summer; but that day,
September 19, it was in a distant pasture, and finding my brother
Charley's colt in the stable, he thought he would ride it to the
post-office. It would not stand for him to mount, and he put the
halter around a post, holding the end in his hand. As he mounted the
saddle the colt jerked both halter and bridle from his hand and
trotted off. Unable to reach the bridle he hastily dismounted. As he
swung his right foot around to the ground the colt kicked it, crushing
the ankle joint. He quietly called mother; and Brother May, who
happened to be passing, helped him into the house, and sent for a
surgeon.

We feared no worse result at the first than a crippled ankle. He said
to Bro. White, who visited him a _few_ days after he was hurt, "Oh,
I will get up all right; a Butler never was conquered, you know. My
only concern is that I shall not become a permanent cripple."

The first week he was hopeful, though suffering much pain. The second
week he was delirious, with high fever. Then he was prostrated with a
severe nervous chill--his already over-wrought nervous system was
exhausted by pain. From that time he lay in an unconscious stupor the
greater part of the time. He passed quietly away at half-past three A.
M., October 19, 1888, at the age of seventy-two.

His funeral took place the following day in the church at Pardee. The
services were conducted by Elders John Boggs, of Clyde, and J. B.
McCleery, of Fort Leavenworth. The house was full, notwithstanding it
was a stormy day, raining continuously from morning until night. Word
had been sent to all the churches in this and adjacent counties, and
hundreds who were preparing to attend the funeral were disappointed by
the inclement weather.



CHAPTER XL.

PRO-SLAVERY HINDRANCES.

BY ELDER JOHN BOGGS.

Although our dear departed brother, Elder Pardee Butler, was never
classed with the Garrisonian Abolitionists, he began his ministerial
life when the demands of the South were being felt in all the North,
both in church and State. If slavery could not be advocated by the
Northern conscience it must at least be ignored by all candidates for
popular favor. It had divided some of the most popular religious
denominations; and was the most exciting subject of discussion known
to the religious world at the middle of the present century. Among the
Disciples of Christ the slavery question was peculiarly perplexing, as
there was a large per cent, of the membership who were actual
slaveholders, and the leaders among us, although publicly committed
against "_slavery in the abstract_," were endeavoring to soften the
hard features of slavery in the Southern States by arguing that the
relation of master and slave was not sinful _per se_, as it was
recognized and regulated both in the Jewish and Christian scriptures.

Bro. Butler was ordained as a minister of the gospel of Christ, among
the. Disciples, at Sullivan, Ohio, some time in the year 1844, by A.
B. Green and J. H. Jones, at that time two of the most efficient
evangelists in Northern Ohio He had a good conscience, which passed
judgment upon his actions in accordance with the great law of love
inculcated by the Lord himself and his apostles, and he did not allow
the application of any "hot iron" so as to sear it. Although he did not
come in direct antagonism with the pro-slavery power while he labored in
the gospel ministry east of the Missouri River, yet it is evident that
the slavery question was a most important factor in making up his
decision to leave his field of labor in the Military Tract in Illinois,
where he gave up present usefulness and ministerial blessedness for a
prospective missionary field and a humble home for his family. He had
spent four years there in active ministerial labor; and in the second
number of his "Personal Recollections" he calls them "the golden days
of my life!"

That the hand of God directed the footsteps of Pardee Butler to Kansas
just at the time he went there, and to the place where he took a
homestead and improved it, and lived on it with his family for a third
of a century, no one who believes in an overruling providence can for
a moment doubt. At the risk of his life, and at the cost of great
privation in his own person, and that of his wife and children, he
unfurled the blood-stained banner of the cross, and never allowed it
to trail beneath his feet through the long years of "border
ruffianism," and the dark days of detraction and misrepresentation. He
was the man for the hour; while on the one hand he was not forgetful
of the obligations resting upon him to his family--he laid the
foundation for a happy home--on the other hand, he was always ready,
both in season and out of season, at home and abroad, to preach the
unsearchable riches of Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world. To him
more than to any other human instrumentality is the brotherhood of
Christ's disciples indebted for the early introduction of Christianity
in the now grand State of Kansas; and his name will be honorably and
lovingly remembered by all the good and the true, who shall learn of
his unselfish life and his untiring devotion to the cause of the
Master.

In the summer of 1858, after he had been in the new Territory over
three years, Bro. Butler, in the _Luminary_, writes as follows: "To
teach, discipline, and perfect the churches we have already organized;
to gather into churches the lost sheep of the house of Israel,
scattered over this great wilderness of sin; to watch over those who
are still purposing to tempt its dangers, and to lay broad and deep
the foundations of a future operation and co-operation, that shall
ultimate in spreading the gospel from pole to pole, and across the
great sea to the farthest domicile of man--this is the purpose which
we set before us." This brief quotation shows the broadness and
completeness of the work, as contemplated by him, and which is now
going forward to its accomplishment as never before; and to his almost
alone labors at first the work in Kansas can be legitimately traced.

During this year a Territorial Board was formed, and Bro. Butler was
appointed as their evangelist; and a correspondence was had between
him and the corresponding secretary of the General Missionary Society
in reference to affording aid to the Kansas Board to help sustain him
in his evangelical labors. It was conducted in the most friendly
manner and in a true Christian spirit, until the slavery question came
to the front and prevented the accomplishment of what was hoped for
on the one hand, and contemplated on the other. The following extract
from Bro. Butler's third letter will present the issue in the briefest
manner possible:

DEAR SIR:--You say in letter before me, "It must,
therefore, be distinctly understood that if we embark in a
missionary enterprise in Kansas, this question of slavery
and anti-slavery must be ignored." I respond: This
reformation is pledged before heaven and earth, and under
covenants the most solemn and binding into which men can
enter, to guarantee freedom of thought and speech to our
brotherhood-i--not indeed on subjects purely abstract,
speculative and inoperative, but on Bible
questions--questions which involve the well-being of
humanity. This matter of slavery is a Bible question--a
question of justice between man and man--of mercy and
humanity. It is what Jesus would call one of the weightier
matters of the law, and demands, therefore, a large place
in our investigations.

        *       *       *

The brethren here in Kansas have made no such stipulations
with me They have left me to my own discretion in
preaching the gospel to sinners, and teaching the saints
according to the Bible. They have shown themselves too
magnanimous to impose on my conscience a restriction which
their own manhood would forbid, under similar
circumstances, that they should suffer to be imposed on
themselves.

For myself, I will be no party, now or hereafter, to such
an arrangement as that contemplated in your letter now
before me. I would not make this "Reformation of the
nineteenth century" a withered and blasted trunk,
scattered by the lightnings of heaven, because it took
part with the rich and powerful against the poor and
oppressed, and because we have been recreant to those
maxims of free discussion which we have so ostentatiously
heralded to the world as our cherished principles.


In explanation of the first letter received by Bro. Butler from the
corresponding secretary, a second one was sent, from which it is
necessary to make the following extracts:

I reply, that nothing has been said against teaching a
master his duties according to the Bible, nor (what is
just as important) against teaching servants their duties
to their masters, according to the Bible--according to the
instructions given to evangelists--I. Tim. vi. 1-4. My
remarks, as the whole letter will show, had reference to
the question of slavery _in Kansas_. The forms it takes on
there are very different from the duties masters owe their
servants according to the Bible. It is whether a
slaveholder is necessarily a sinner, unfit for membership
in the Christian Church--a blood-thirsty oppressor, whose
money is the "price of blood," and would "pollute" the
treasury of the Lord, etc. etc. And, on the other hand,
whether American slavery is a divine institution, the
perfection of society for the African race, and essential
to their happiness--while all Abolitionists are fit only
for the madhouse or the penitentiary. These and such like
are the _forms_ the question of slavery assumes in Kansas,
as well as in many of the free States, where there are no
"masters and servants" in that sense to be taught their
duties, in reference to which it was said the question
must be entirely ignored. And we can not consent that on
one side or the other such pleas shall be made under the
sanction of the American Christian Missionary Society.

I did not then, nor do I now, suppose that if you were
employed by the A. C. M. S. to preach the gospel in
Kansas, it would fall to your lot to furnish instructions
to many masters and servants. If in any churches you may
raise up in Kansas--evidently destined to be free--you
find masters and slaves, of course it will be your duty to
instruct them both "according to the Bible." But to
furnish such instruction, and to go through Kansas
lecturing on anti-slavery, or mixing up any pro-slavery or
any anti-slavery theories and dogmas with the gospel, or
to plant churches with the express understanding that no
"master" shall be allowed to have membership in it, are
very different things. And I had this very matter in view
when I wrote to you, for I had some-how heard that the
church of which you were a member was about to take just
such a stand, and I wanted to have it distinctly
understood that so far as action under the direction of
the A. C. M. S. was concerned, all such ultraisms must be
ignored. . . . You felt anxious to have help to preach the
gospel in Kansas. I felt anxious to assist you. I saw
danger in the way, growing out of the fact that I
represent a society whose membership is in the South as
well as in the North, and that some factious ultraists are
constantly on the watch to sow the seeds of discord. I
knew the state of things in Kansas as bearing on the
slavery question. I knew something, too, of your treatment
there, and of your feelings. I saw that if you were
employed to preach there, an effort would be made to
herald it, as in Bro. Beardslee's Case, as an anti-slavery
triumph. This would be unjust to us. And as the practical
question of master and slave does not exist there to any
extent, I spoke of ignoring the question altogether. If
you still insist on the right to urge that question, and
take part in the controversy raging in Kansas, _under the
patronage of the A. C. M. S_., I have only to say it is
outside the objects contemplated in our constitution. But
if you wish simply to preach the gospel and instruct
converts in a knowledge of Christian duties, "according to
the Scriptures," there was certainly no occasion for your
second letter to be written.


To the foregoing a rejoinder was written by Bro. Butler, which closed
the correspondence with the A. C. M. S., and from which the following
extracts are taken, that the readers may understand his position
correctly:

I reply, 1. In your former letter I find no reference to
the _forms _ the agitation of this question assumes in
Kansas. I presume you had not a copy of that letter before
you when you wrote this one. But you do allude to "forms"
the agitation of this question had assumed in Cincinnati,
and in reference to Bro. Beardslee and the Jamaica
mission. I was also instructed that "our missionaries"
must not be ensnared into such utterances as the
_Luminary_ can publish to the world, to add fuel to the
flame. The utterances against which I was guarded _seemed_
to be in Cincinnati rather than in Kansas. I had already
published a piece indicative of my views in the
_Northwestern Christian Magazine_, and that appeared to be
the obnoxious "utterance." 2. You are misinformed relative
to the "forms" the agitation of this question assumes in
Kansas. The question, Shall slaveholders be received as
church members? has hardly been debated at all. 3. Neither
myself nor any person associated with me has at time
proposed to organize a church to exclude slaveholders. 4.
Slaveholders have been members of our churches from the
first day until now. How, then, could I understand you as
referring to anything else than to my own published
Cincinnati utterances?

        *       *       *

As respects slavery, the whole power of the master and the
obligation of the servant is found in the proper meaning
of the words of such precepts as these "Masters, render
unto your servants that which is just and equal;"
"servants, obey your masters," etc. All within such limits
is the doctrine which is according to godliness--all
beyond, whether on the part of the master or the slave,
and which is attempted to be foisted into the church as a
part of the apostolic doctrine, is schismatical, and
essentially fills up the picture drawn by Paul: "If any
man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words,
even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the
doctrine which is according to godliness; he is proud,
knowing nothing'--from such withdraw thyself." In these
precepts no right is given to the masters to buy and sell,
to traffic in slaves; no right to enslave the children,
and the children's children of his servants; no right to
hold them in a relentless bondage which knows no limit but
the grave, and in which the heritage transmitted by the
slave to his children, is a heritage of bondage to all
generations.


On the 26th of August, 1858, the same season that the foregoing
correspondence took place, Bro. Butler wrote to the editor of the
_Christian Luminary_ the following letter, which is given entire, as
showing the exact position which he occupied ministerially at that
time:

OCENA, ATCHISON CO., KAN., Aug. 26, 1858.

DEAR SIR:--Three churches--one meeting at Leavenworth
City, another at Mount Pleasant, Atchison county, and a
third at Pardee, same county--have formed an organization
for the purpose of propagating the gospel in Kansas. For
four months I have been in the employ of these churches.
My first business was to travel over the Territory and
ascertain where we have brethren in sufficient numbers to
make it expedient to organize churches. To that end I have
traveled over that portion of the Territory north of the
Kansas River, and embraced in the counties of Leavenworth,
Atchison, Doniphan, Jefferson, and Calhoun; also, to some
extent south of the Kansas River.

I will not say that this has been the pleasantest labor of
my life. A long and wearisome ride across wide prairies,
under a burning sun, has often been followed by a
fruitless effort to excite interest enough to justify
established preaching. I would not convey the idea that
this region is not full of promise to the missionary,
notwithstanding I am fully persuaded that we are not to
expect such _immediate_ results as have followed my own
labors elsewhere. We must first sow, and then, in due
time, we shall reap, if we faint not.

The M. E. Church reports 120 preachers in Kansas and
Nebraska; the U. B. Church, 9, sustained in part by
contributions from abroad. The Missionary Baptists make
good their right to the name they have chosen, by
sustaining four missionaries. I confess it is a matter of
profound humiliation to me that the demonstration that
ours is primitive apostolic Christianity, is found in the
fact that we can afford but one missionary in Kansas, and
that to his support not one dime has been contributed from
abroad. The brethren in the Territory, under an unexampled
pecuniary pressure, and out of their deep poverty, have
done all that has been done. Two new churches have been
organized--one at Big Springs, Douglas county, numbering
twenty-eight members; the other at Cedar Creek, Jefferson
county, of eleven members. We have also the nucleus of a
congregation at Atchison, and another at Elk City, Calhoun
county. Thus we have in this part of Kansas the foundation
laid for eight churches, all of which are steadily
increasing in numbers; and the brethren composing them, in
all the elements of future growth, and in moral and in
religious excellence, are at par value with the
brotherhood in any of our States or Territories.

If the older churches, blessed with such abundant means,
would aid us in this hour of our need, it is my opinion
they would be no poorer on earth and much richer in
heaven. But whether they aid us or not, I trust we shall
hold our own, and ultimately prove that the weapons of our
warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the
pulling down of strongholds, casting down imaginations and
every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge
of God. We have a number of young preachers, who are
giving promise of future usefulness. Very truly, your
brother,

PARDEE BUTLER.

P. S.--Five persons in this congregation, and one at Big
Springs have been recently added by baptism; also two from
other denominations.


On the 1st day of July, 1859, Bro. Butler made a very interesting
report of his labors, and especially of his tour in several of the
free States--mostly where he had labored in the gospel before his
removal to Kansas. As the document is too long for publication entire
in this volume, only the more important extracts can be given. The
first two paragraphs being only a fuller statement of what is already
written, the first extract will show the voluntary indorsement of Bro.
Butler by the churches for which he had been laboring, as follows:

WHEREAS, Bro. Butler has faithfully and diligently
performed the labor assigned him as our evangelist;
therefore,

_Resolved_, I. That we do most heartily approve of his
labors and general course of conduct during his term of
service. 2. That the officers of this Board be directed to
procure the services of Bro. Butler, or some other
suitable person, to solicit aid in the States for this
society.

Bro. Humber, as president of the Board, did not call it
together to complete the arrangement contemplated. On my
own part, I felt unwilling to importune him. I went on my
tour, therefore, simply under the indorsement and approval
of my own congregation. I left home December 16, 1858, and
returned May 12, 1859. I visited the Military Tract of
Illinois, Northeast Iowa, Southwest Michigan, Central and
Eastern Indiana, and Northern Ohio. The amount of money
realized was $365; expenses, $110, leaving a balance on
hand of $255, as the first installment of the fund of our
begun mission.

Of all the churches in which I sought a hearing only one,
the church at Bedford, Ohio, gave me the cold shoulder. In
response to my request for the privilege of delivering a
lecture before them, in development of our wants and
condition in Kansas, they responded that they considered
it "political," and they had resolved that their house
should not be used for political lectures!.... In all the
localities visited by me, I found the masses of the people
with such convictions as will constrain them to treat
slavery in the United States as a moral evil, and to
patronize only such societies as assume toward it a
similar position. It is asked: What have we to do with
slavery? I reply: We, as Christians, should have nothing
to do with it. But we in Kansas are placed under
compulsion to have something to do with it. We have
slaveholders in our churches; and if the time should come
when there will be no slaves in Kansas, still we have
something to do with it, for within one day's ride of us
in Platte county, Mo., is the largest body of slaveholders
in that State. Discipline is special to each congregation,
but that sense of justice which always stands as the basis
of discipline, is common to all the churches of one
communion. This public opinion is created by a mutual
interchange of sentiment--the books we read and the
preachers we hear. For years past slaveholders have ceased
to hear those suspected of abolitionism or to read their
writings. I will bear very long with error where mutual
discussion and free interchange of sentiment promise
ultimately to bring all to be of the same mind. Am I told
that the safety of slave property requires that
Abolitionists should not be heard in the slave States? I
reply: The more shame to those who perpetuate an
institution that demands for its security the tyranny of
such proscription; and that the human soul of the black
man should be so cruelly dwarfed and robbed of his
manhood. . . . Such are the not very flattering
impressions made on my mind during a five months' tour in
Northern Ohio, after an absence of nine years. There must
and will be a reform; it has become a public necessity.
Temporizers are proverbially short-sighted. God gives only
to the pure-hearted the divine privilege of foreseeing the
coming of those beneficent revolutions, which exalt and
dignify humanity. Ambitious and selfish men are left to go
blindly on and fall into their own pit. At present there
will be chaos I The people will not follow those who have
been accustomed to lead, notwithstanding those leaders
will have power greatly to embarrass the action of those
who do not follow them. We have three pressing wants: 1. A
_sustained_ paper that will not bow the knee to the image
of this modern Baal. Such a paper we have, but it should
not be concealed, that it must pass through a fiery
ordeal, and can only be sustained by the timely efforts of
its friends. 2. We need a convention made up of men who
regard slavery as a moral evil, and are disposed to make
their own consciences the rule of their action. 3. We need
a missionary fund, which shall be placed in such hands
that it shall not be prostituted to the vile purpose of
bribing men into silence on the subject of slavery.

I am not commissioned specially to speak for the
_Luminary_, nor to prophesy concerning any convention
which may hereafter assemble. I only speak for myself. Let
it then be candidly admitted that the fund which I have
been able to collect is a rather unpromising beginning,
and that it does not augur that this mission will be well
sustained. I remark, then, I never was adequately
sustained. I have been a frontier and a pioneer preacher,
and have shared the fortunes of such men. To keep myself
in the field I have labored very hard, I have toiled by
day, and have subjected my family to the necessity of such
labor, privation, and close economy as, perhaps, calls for
rebuke instead of praise. The churches at Davenport, Long
Grove, De Witt, Marion, and Highland Grove, in Iowa; and
Camp Point, Mt. Sterling, and Rushville, in Illinois, can
be addressed as to my former manner of life. I would speak
modestly of myself; and have not obtruded these matters
before the brethren until rudely assailed as though I
never made any sacrifices. I do not complain, and what I
have said is offered, as evidence, in some sort, that
money appropriated to this mission will not be squandered.


In this connection it is thought proper to insert a single quotation
from a letter which appeared in the _Review_, a paper which published
editorially, the most unscrupulous slanders in reference to Bro.
Butler's work in Kansas, which letter was written by Bro. S. A.
Marshall, of Leavenworth--both an M. D. and a preacher, and than whom
no more honorable gentleman ever lived in that city. His testimony is
incidental, and therefore so much the stronger:

The brethren of the four churches named have tried to
co-operate together to sustain Bro. Pardee Butler as home
missionary for a little while. He is an able evangelist
and generally beloved: and being on the ground and well
acquainted with the country, and the manners and customs
of the people, could be obtained at much less expense, and
perhaps be as useful and acceptable to the people as any
other available evangelist.


In harmony with the suggestion made by Bro. Butler in his report, for
a convention of our brethren who look upon slavery as a moral evil,
call was made for such a meeting to convene in the city of
Indianapolis on the 1st day of November, 1859. About six hundred
signatures were attached to the call, including many of the most
intelligent and influential members of our churches in the North.
After much misrepresentation and denunciation, the convention was held
in the Christian chapel in Indianapolis; a constitution for a
missionary society adopted and the necessary officers appointed. Many
of the churches gave it a most hearty endorsement. It was deemed
expedient that Bro. Butler, before returning to Kansas, should visit
as many churches as practicable. Accordingly, he wrote to the
_Luminary_ under date of December 26, 1859, from Springville, Ind., as
follows:

I have thought best, before returning to Kansas, to make a
short visit to this part of Indiana, where, according to
report, almost all the brethren are opposed to our recent
missionary movement. In twenty-three days I have preached
thirty-two discourses. For the mission we raised, cash,
$55; pledges, $43. Three have been added by baptism, and
one from the Presbyterians who had formerly been immersed.
Some of our preaching brethren in this part of the State
conclude to take the advice of Gamaliel: "And now I say
unto you, refrain from these men, and let them alone; for
if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to
naught; but if it be of God, ye can not overthrow it; lest
happily ye be found even to fight against God." In the
cause of a common piety and a common humanity.


Bro. Butler returned to Kansas, and resumed his labors wherever a door
of entrance was opened to him. Angry clouds thickened across the
political and religious horizon, until, shortly, the storm broke forth
in unwonted fury, and swept away from the national statute book every
vestige of American slavery. For a quarter of a century longer he
continued in the service of the Master, laboring successfully in every
department of the ministerial work--evangelical, pastoral, and in the
advocacy of all moral reforms, and especially as a leader in the
warfare waged against the saloon interest in Kansas. He lived to see
his adopted State take an advanced position in the legal prohibition
movement, slavery in the United States abolished, and the cause of
Bible Christianity flourishing as it had never done before. He
commanded the respect of all who knew him, and was regarded as one of
the chief founders of the church. His presence at all the Christian
conventions in and out of the State was always hailed with tokens of
gladness. Still he was aware that there were individual members, and
even some churches that never forgave him for the active part he took
against the extension of slavery, and his indictments against it as a
moral evil--a sin against God and man. Fifty years of his eventful
life were consecrated to the service of the Master and the good of
humanity. He died with the ministerial harness on. At the time of the
sad casualty which proved to be fatal, he had arrangements for
continued work in the churches, both at home and abroad. He finished
his course with joy, for he knew there was laid up for him in heaven a
crown of righteousness. He labored assiduously in life, and now enjoys
the sweet rest which remains for the people of God.



CHAPTER XLI.

TEMPERANCE AND CHURCH WORK,

BY ELD. J. B. MCCLEERY.

ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER.

 1. An indomitable will.

 2. A sublime courage.

 3. A never-satisfied hungering and thirst for knowledge.

 4. An intense love for truth, and hatred of shams.

 5. A tireless worker.

 6. An advanced thinker.

In presenting this analysis it is by no means thought to be complete.
There are many phases of his well-known character left untouched,
because this chapter would become a book, if all were presented in
detail. We touch upon these more salient ones, as presenting the
well-known outlines of his later life, and trust the picture will find
faithful recognition among his host of admirers.

Those who have known him ever since the past Territorial days of
Kansas, will concede that, for the accomplishment of a purpose unto
which he had once deliberately put his hand, no man ever breathed the
fresh air of these broad prairies who followed the trail with more
determination and keen, intelligent acquaintance with all bearings,
overcoming difficulties, meeting objections, accepting temporary
defeat (philosophically), but never relinquishing his purpose until
victory crowned his effort, or failure was absolutely inevitable,
than he.

Suited to this was a courage as heroic as Leonidas' and sublime as
Paul's. The stormy days of the fifties and sixties gave evidence of
the physical side of this quality, and his entire life, of the moral.
He "feared no foe in shining armor," and rather courted than avoided a
passage at arms dialectic. Eminently a man of peace, and loving the
pursuits that make for it, he would see no principle of right unjustly
assailed without girding himself for the conflict, and standing where
the blows fell thickest.

Coming to this unknown country at an age when the ordinary mind takes
firmest grasp of all intellectual things, and being thus deprived of
that mental food necessary to satisfy and make strong, there was ever
after a hungering for the things he did not have, that would not be
satisfied. I remember talking with him once, while sitting on his
lumber wagon, resting his team in the cotton-wood bottoms east of
Atchison, and he bewailed as much as a man of his fiber could, the
fate that compelled him to toil day and night while his soul was
starving for that intellectual food which lay all around him, but
which he did not have time to gather and devour. This, however, was
not abnormal; for, even to the day of his death, he was a devoted
disciple, sitting at the feet of every true Gamaliel.

An intense lover of truth, and a like hater of shams, he analyzed
mercilessly; not for the sake of opposing, but in search of kernels
and the source of things. If he found the tree was bearing, or
destined to bear evil fruit, he would do his utmost that there should
be left of it neither root nor branch. Accepting good in every
presented form, if he suspected evil in the garb of good, there was no
waiting for a more opportune time than the then present, for such
stripping and exposure as his vigorous logic, sarcasm, wit, pathos,
and personal presence could produce. Humble, and exceedingly retiring
in ordinary, when the truth was assailed, or wolves in sheeps'
clothing appeared, he became a lion, fierce and towering; and woe
betake the man or system that then became the object of his righteous
wrath. Such torrents of invective as fell from his tongue; such
flashes as gleamed from his gray eagle-eyes; such scorn as glowed in
his thin, pallid lips, made every one tremble--an avalanche that swept
all before it.

To toil, of some character or other, he seemed to be destined. For no
sooner did he find a little rest from the field or herd, than all his
Hurculean energy was thrown into some cherished and waiting mental
project. His life is an example of the statement that "genius is the
result of labor." Neither did he travel in thought alone upon the
surface of things. There were subjects, the philosophy of which no
contemporary understood better; and upon the social and organic
relations of the religious reformation with which he always stood
identified, he was twenty years ahead of his confreres. He was a
veritable Elijah in many things, but he was never known to flee from
the face of his enemies.

His was a mighty nature; the soul of honor and the embodiment of
truth.

There are two features of his Kansas life, which marked the man, that
I wish to portray, viz: His _temperance_ work, and his _religious_
work. These were not in any sense divorced, as though they were not
always righteously allied; but, as all know, the prohibition question
holds a prominent place in the history of this proud young queen, with
her "_ad astra per aspera_," and from the time she was admitted to a
place among the sisterhood of States, up to the date that the
comparatively little majority of 8,000 votes placed her squarely in
opposition to the saloon, with all its interests and iniquities, he
labored, watched, and prayed, for such a consummation. In this, as in
his religious conceptions, he was always in the advance, running new
lines and opening broad highways, and inviting fields for the less
sturdy but oncoming multitude. As he had battled to prevent this, his
adopted State, from being desecrated by the blot of human slavery,
so now he voted, preached, lectured, wrote, that it might be delivered
from the body and soul destroying curse of the rum power.

I have before me his temperance scrap-book, beginning with the
proposed amendment to the State Constitution, March 8, 1879, and
coming up to the time of his death, in which I find fifty-five
newspaper articles written by him, of from one to three columns in
length, presenting, in his own terse, humorous, glowing, vigorous,
convincing way, all sides of this chameleon-hued question; now
analyzing the amendment and the laws to enforce it, turning aside here
to answer the cavil of some carping critic, then to demolish and bury
some blatant political defender of the whisky element; arraigning the
Governor, Senate and House of Representatives for their gingerly
treatment of the great question, and sending a trumpet-call to the
honest, brave, and sincere temperance workers, both men and women,
urging them to greater vigilance and closer compact. These, with
numerous short and pithy articles, added to all his sermons and
lectures on the subject, occupying a much larger space and far more
time, will give an idea of the labor of heart and brain bestowed upon
this one question, during this one decade. We have room in this
chapter for only one short article from his pen, as an example of the
many, indicating how he felt, thought, and wrote during those stirring
years. The title of the article is, "The Prohibition of the Liquor
Traffic, The Constitutional Amendment in Kansas." He says:

This is, perhaps, the first case in which any government
in the world has incorporated into its constitution a
clause prohibiting forever the sale of intoxicating drinks
as a beverage. This is a struggle in which the churches,
the preachers, and the Sunday-schools are arrayed in
mortal antagonism to the saloons and saloon-keepers. Both
parties are instinctively conscious that this is a contest
in which the issue is to kill or be killed. No truce or
peace is possible. 'I will put enmity between thy seed and
her seed.' The people are drawn into one or the other of
these parties by a sort of elective affinity. One class
goes with the churches and the Sunday-schools; another
gravitates to the drinking-house. The one class are swayed
and controlled by the law of love--"Thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself;" the other by the principle that
governed Cain--"Am I my brother's keeper?" "Who cares?"
"Let every man look out for himself?" "If a man chooses to
make a beast of himself, it is none of my business."

One of the peculiar things connected with this movement is
the fact that by far the most determined and effective
opposition to this law comes from foreign-born and
naturalized citizens. They have, so to speak, monopolized
the liquor traffic; they are bound together by a kind of
free masonry, and with small regard to whom they vote
with, Democrats or Republicans, they give the whole weight
of their political influence in favor of free liquor.

With here and there a notable exception, the Roman
Catholic Church throws its influence on the same side;
hence its church fairs are carnivals of drunkenness.

The two extremes of our American society do also largely
join in this clamor for free liquor. "The upper ten
thousand," those that arrogate to themselves that they are
par excellence, the _elite_ of the nation--albeit that
their assumed gentility is sometimes but a shoddy or
shabby gentility--make the road from the top of society to
the bottom, and from thence to hell, as short as possible,
by assuming that it is aristocratic to tipple.

When from these so-called upper circles, we go down to the
bottom of society, what shall we say of that great
multitude of men and women, crushed into poverty,
helplessness and ignorance, groping as the blind grope in
darkness; and who find in the dram-shop a momentary
oblivion to their miseries?

To these elements of opposition to prohibition we must add
another class of men--the professional politicians. These,
like the chameleon, take the color of every object they
light on. To them the good Lord and the good devil are
equally objects of respect, and possible worship; and,
having all mental endowments accurately developed, except
the endowment of conscience, they hold that all things are
legitimate that bring grist to their mill. These will be
good prohibitionists when prohibition dances in silver
slippers; but now they do duty on the other side.

The above picture contains a very fair analysis of the
elements of the vote in opposition to the prohibitory
amendment, except that, perhaps, we ought to add the vote
in opposition to a well-intended class of men who have no
proclivity for liquor, and who, perhaps, could give no
better reason for their vote but that they abhor
innovations, and are content to do as their fathers and
grandfathers did before them.

Notwithstanding, prohibition carried in the State by eight
thousand majority. It is noteworthy that six counties,
lying along the Missouri River, and having in or near them
the cities of Atchison, Leavenworth, Wyandotte, White
Cloud and Kansas City, and which also contain the largest
foreign-born population in the State, gave heavy
majorities against the amendment.

It is self-evident that if the execution of this law is
left to the municipal authorities of the above-named
cities, or to the officers elected in the above-named
counties, then the saloon keepers and liquor dealers will,
without let or hindrance, trample under foot both the
constitution and laws. The proof of this lies in the fact
that, in time past, the liquor dealers have ridden
rough-shod over all laws enacted in the interest of
temperance. For example, the law provided that they should
not sell to boys under age; the law provided that they
should not sell on the Lord's day. The law forbids bribing
at elections; but the bribery of strong drink at
elections, in the cities, has been just as common as the
elections; and church members, and even preachers, who
were candidates for office, have been blackmailed to get
the money to buy the liquor. It will be asked, What, then,
do we gain who live in these river counties, and in these
cities, by the passage of this prohibitory law? We gain
much.

1. Thus far these law-breaking liquor dealers have acted,
in carrying on their business, under the shadow and
protection of law. This protection is now withdrawn.

2. The government has hitherto been in partnership with
liquor dealers in the infamous business of making
drunkards. This partnership is now dissolved.

3. The appetite for strong drink is not a natural
appetite. It is an appetite artificially created in
children, boys and young men. It is not for the public
welfare that it should be created at all. The scheme and
plan of the popular saloon is to create this appetite, and
to strengthen and foster it after it is created.

The whole business of the saloon looks in this direction.
To this end are its flashing lights, its glittering
decanters, its rainbow tints, its jolly good fellowship
and boon companionship, and the _bonhomie_ of the portly
saloonkeeper. All these, in the purpose and intent for
which they exist, mean the death of the body and the soul
of the man that enters these gates that lead down to hell.
The saloon is a serpent, with the serpent's fascinating
beauty and power to charm, but with the serpent's deadly
bite. "At the last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth
like an adder." Kansas has wisely ordained that it will
not maintain by the public authority and at the public
expense poisonous serpents to sting the people to death,

4.  Men object: "The selling of liquor will go on, but you
will drive the business into dark places and into the
hands of disreputable men." To this temperance men reply:
"That is just what we want. We wish to take away every
vestige of respectability from the man that sells liquor.
We intend that it shall be sold--if it must be sold at
all--in dark cellars and in back alleys, and that the men
that sell liquor shall take rank among the law-breaking
and dangerous classes of society,"

5. The one potent charm and omnipotent argument that has
served as a gift to blind the eyes and an opiate to lull
to sleep the consciences of the municipal authorities of
our cities has been the revenue they have derived from
liquor license laws. For example, the city of Atchison has
derived from this source a revenue of $10,000. This
revenue was paid not alone by her own citizens, but by all
men who were drawn to the city for purposes of business or
pleasure and who could be induced to patronize the
saloons. And this has been a perpetual menace to the
safety of families living in the country who did business
in the city. This revenue is gone. It is hopelessly and
irrecoverably dried up. The Missouri river will turn and
flow backward towards its source before this revenue,
which is the price of blood, like the thirty pieces of
silver for which Judas sold his Master, will ever come
back again. After Jesus had cast a legion of demons out of
the demoniac that dwelt among the tombs, this man was far
more impressible with regard to motives addressed to his
better nature than while he was possessed by these demons;
so we may charitably hope that now, after ten thousand
evil demons have been cast out of the hearts of the mayor
and common council of the city of Atchison, these
dignitaries will be more impressible with regard to
motives of morality, humanity, and of the public welfare.

Meantime, temperance men look on the whole business of
liquor license as an unspeakable madness. Regarded simply
as a question of dollars and cents, they look on it as a
horrible nightmare--a hallucination fallen on men nearly
allied to that form of mental abberration which carries
men to mad-houses and insane asylums, a strange and
mysterious perversion of the human faculties. Regarded in
its economical aspects, they hold that it would be just as
good economy and as much the dictate of common sense, to
obtain a revenue by licensing murder, theft, burglary,
robbery, and harlotry, as it is to license the sale of
intoxicating drinks as a beverage.

It will be seen, then, that prohibition incorporated into
the constitution of Kansas, does not, by any means, give
us the victory; it only places us in a position to fight a
fair and equal battle hereafter. We are, like Israel,
shouting triumphantly, "I will sing unto the Lord, for he
hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he
drowned in the Red Sea."

But beyond us are parched and desert sands, poisonous
serpents, savage wild beasts and mortal enemies. All these
must be conquered before we finally rest in the happy
Canaan.

It is now conceded by the best informed actors in this great drama or
tragedy, that Pardee Butler, as much or more than any one man, made
the prohibition movement in Kansas the marvelous success it is. The
generation is yet to come that will rise up to do him rightful honor.

From '54 to '60 Pardee Butler was the Moses to the church in this
wilderness, and for years following he was in some sense like Paul,
"having the care of all the churches." But from the beginning he was
the foremost man by virtue of natural and acquired ability, although a
reluctant following was often given because of former habitudes and
shibboleths, socially. There were other men in different localities
who battled grandly for the truth and sowed the seed of the kingdom
with firm and loyal hand: Brethren Yohe and Jackson, of Leavenworth,
followed by the Bausermans, Joseph and Henry, Gans of Olathe, Brown of
Emporia, White of Manhattan, and others equally worthy,--all pioneers
in every good sense, and now all gone to their reward, with the
exceptions of Brethren Yohe and the Bausermans. Without being formally
chosen Pardee Butler was the recognized leader of these sanctified
few, and no home where they entered was too humble, or field where
they toiled too barren, for the light of his countenance to cheer, or
the strength of his arm to be felt. In the polity and development of
the church, as in other fields of moral and social struggle, he was
far in advance of the time; and up to the day of his death, this was
one of the great burdens that rested upon his heart.

The membership coming to the Territory, and which, of course, formed
the nuclei of churches, was a heterogenous compound. In many respects
there was no possible assimilation; but so far as the simple tenets of
the primitive faith were concerned, there was little or no difference.
But as to plurality of bishops in the congregation, their tenure and
jurisdiction of office, the relations of comity between sister
churches, the duties and powers of an evangelist, the laying on of
hands in induction into authority, instrumental music in the
congregation, the Sunday-school and its organization, the order of
social worship, the mid-week meeting for prayer, and numerous other
matters of scriptural life, there were as many shades of opinion as
there were of dialects; and the tenacity with which they were
maintained, those not familiar with the time and its environments can
hardly hope to know. Yet upon all these and kindred questions, Bro.
Butler had singularly clear-cut and advanced opinions. He has often
said to me, "How very obtuse the churches seem to be on the plain
teaching of Scripture. And the preachers are equally ignorant, or else
they are willing to go limping and halting, when they could as well
and better be easily marching and leading their sanctified hosts to
marvelous victory."

He did not feel, or even make manifest, that he recognized his
greatness in these directions only as he labored to bring the
congregations and their officers up to his ideals.

In the first struggles to bring the scattered congregations into
co-operative unity, he was the head and heart of the movement; and
through all the varied successes and failures of those non-cohesive
times and men, he never lost courage or intimated aught else than the
success which now crowns the work.

I regarded him as the finest ecclesiastical historian among us, and
because of his knowledge here, coupled with the philosophy that grew
out of it, linked to the genius of Christianity itself, he was, by
educational intuition, a missionary zealot.

Carey and the Judsons, and Barclay and Livingstone, with all others of
like character, were what he termed "ripe fruit" from the Good Tree.
He was to the churches in Kansas what these men and women were to the
people among whom they labored. Visiting every outpost, gathering the
straggling sheep into folds and striving to secure shepherds for them,
stripping the fleecy garments from the wolves, uncovering the
sophistries of the various polytheisms, immersing the converts and
exhorting the saints, the thirty-five years he spent in Kansas were
years of severest mental, moral and physical labor; and from which he
asked no respite until God called him.

Truthfully this Scripture may be written as his epitaph: "Blessed are
the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth; Yea, saith the Spirit,
for they rest from their labors and their works do follow them."



CHAPTER XLII.

The following tributes of friendship were published
in the _Atchison Champion_, after father's death:

TWO KANSAS PIONEERS.

BY JOHN A. MARTIN, EX-GOVERNOR OF KANSAS.

Rev. Pardee Butler, who died at his old home, near
Farmington, on Saturday last, was, for a full generation
past, one of the most prominent figures in Kansas history.
He was a minister of the Christian Church, and located in
this county early in 1855. He came to Kansas to fight
slavery. He was a sincere man. He was a brave man. He had
in him the stuff of which martyrs are made. He
deliberately chose, on coming to the young Territory, the
county in which the advocates of slavery seemed to be
strongest and most violent. He made no secret of his
opinions on the question of slavery, nor of his purpose to
oppose the attempt to make Kansas, a slave State. He was
not a fighting man, in the worldly sense of that word; but
in its broader and higher significance, he was an
aggressive, fearless, tireless fighter. He would not kill,
but he did not hesitate to brave death. He would not
shoot, but he did not quail or cower before guns, for
knives, or ropes.

The _Champion_ publishes, this morning, some extracts from
its own columns, when it was a newspaper with another name
and other principles, narrating some of the incidents of
his early life in Kansas. They are historic. During a
marvelous era they stirred the heart and aroused the
conscience of the Nation. This humble preacher, coming to
the Territory for a cause, and bravely enduring the pangs
of martyrdom for his opinions, became, at once, the
representative of millions of men. The story of his wrongs
was told in every newspaper of the land, and was discussed
around the firesides of a million homes. The brutal
pro-slavery mob of Atchison saw in him only an impudent
and absurd opponent of an institution that controlled
courts, legislatures and congress; the awakening Nation
saw that he stood for Free Speech, for Liberty, for Law,
and for Humanity; and the indignities heaped upon him
touched and stirred the heart of the North in its
profoundest depths.

Pardee Butler, facing the drunken, ignorant, howling,
brutal pro-slavery mobs of Atchison, must have been, to
them, a unique figure. They could not understand him. The
writer has heard men who were present, but not
participants, when the mob had him in charge, say that the
mingled hatred and respect with which the ruffians
regarded him, was singularly manifest. He bore himself
with quiet dignity and composure. He did not attempt to
resist, nor, on the other hand, did he manifest the
slightest evidence of fear. To their loud and violent
threatenings, he made answer with quiet, manly dignity. It
would have gratified the ruffians beyond measure if they
could have induced him to recant, or to make some pledge
that would compromise his frankly expressed opinions--some
promise of silence concerning or acquiescence in, or
non-interference with, their cherished purpose to
establish slavery in Kansas. If he had yielded even so
much as this, they would gladly have let him go. But never
for a moment did he falter, or waver, or equivocate. He
refused to make any promise. He stood upon his rights as
an American citizen. He was opposed to slavery in Kansas,
and intended to oppose it as long as he lived. He came to
Kansas to aid in making it a free State, and no fear of
personal injury would change his purpose, He was one man
among hundreds, but he intended, then and at all times, in
Atchison or elsewhere, to express his convictions, and
with voice and vote maintain his opinions. All this he
said, quietly and without a trace of boasting, but with a
firmness that won from the mob a most unyielding respect.

And this saved him from a worse fate. If he had quailed or
equivocated, they would have triumphed; if he had boasted
or threatened, they would have hanged him. He did neither.
And so they first set him adrift on a raft, and again
tarred and feathered him; and on both occasions manly
courage and sincere faith were victorious over brute force
and mad passion.

Mr. Butler lived his life, during all the years of his
residence in this county, illustrating the same lofty
purposes and sincere convictions. He was not always
correct in his judgments, but he was always earnest. He
was interested in every good cause. During his whole life
he was an ardent temperance man. He was a practical, as
well as an ardent, advocate of temperance, and the
organization of the so-called "Third party"
prohibitionists, excited, at once, his indignation and
contempt. He was one of the first prohibitionists of
Kansas to distrust St. John, and to denounce him as a
self-seeking, ambitious demagogue. He had no use for any
man who was not entirely sincere, or who was not willing
to subordinate his own personal interest for the sake of
principle.

Among the free State pioneers, of Atchison County, Pardee
Butler and Caleb May were first in influence and
usefulness. The latter died only a few weeks ago, in
Florida. The _Champion_ made notice of his death at the
time. The two men, in their personal characteristics, had
nothing in common. Col. May was a man of very limited
education; Mr. Butler was schooled in books. Col. May had
lived all his life on the frontier; Mr. Butler came from
one of the oldest communities in Ohio. Col. May believed
in the weapons of carnal warfare; Mr. Butler put his faith
in the power of reason. Both were men of approved and
unquestionable courage, but if the pro-slavery mob had
attempted to capture Col. May, a revolver, held with a
steady hand, would have blazed his defiance; Mr. Butler
submitted, without resistance to the mob's will. The
ruffians did not understand this peaceful but resolute
antagonist, but they were compelled to respect his
determined purpose. When Col. May wrote to their leader a
letter telling the pro-slavery rulers of Atchison that his
home was his castle, and if any man attacked it, he would
meet with a bloody reception, and that he (May) intended
to come to Atchison whenever he pleased, and meant to come
armed, they laughed at his rude chirography, and made
merry over his "spelling by ear," but they understood his
meaning perfectly, and knew, also, that he would do
exactly what he said. And they never disturbed him. In his
personal appearance Col. May was an ideal
"Leatherstockings." He might have sat for a portrait of
Cooper's famous frontier hero and Indian trailer. Over six
feet in height, angular, muscular, somewhat awkward in
repose, with cool, bright gray eyes, deep set under shaggy
eyebrows, and having immense reach of arm--his was an
imposing figure. Mr. Butler was a born Puritan; Col. May
was a born frontiersman. [7] Mr. Butler opposed slavery on
moral grounds, and because he hated injustice or wrong in
any form. Col. May hated slavery, and fought it, because
he believed the institution was detrimental to his own
race. Born in Kentucky and reared in Missouri, he had seen
the effects of slavery all about him, harming him and his,
and so he hated it.


Kansas owes both of these pioneers a debt of respect and
gratitude. The world was better that they lived in it.
Freedom found in them devoted loyalty to her cause. They
both loved Kansas, and their lives were inseparably
associated with the stirring events of the most momentous
years of her history. They served her well. Brave and
strong and useful, they fought a good fight and kept the
faith. Honor to their memory.



A WREATH OF TRIBUTE.

BY REV. D. C. MILNER,

Formerly Pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Atchison, Kan.

EDITOR OF THE CHAMPION:--Having read, with much interest,
your sketch of Pardee Butler, I am moved to lay a wreath
of tribute upon the grave of the old hero. He was a man of
most invincible courage. Earl Morton, by the open grave of
John Knox, said, "Here lies one who never feared the face
of man." Mr. Butler was a John Knox sort of man. Those who
have visited him at his home of late years will remember
how modestly, yet with some pride, he would tell the story
of that day in Atchison when the mob started him down the
river on the frail raft, and how he would exhibit the
banner so carefully preserved. It would be of much
interest if we could have the full story, told by himself,
of the raft journey; of the after "tar and cotton" affair;
and also, of the night, some time after that, when some of
the very men who helped to mob him, assisted him across
the river with his loaded team when he was in some
trouble.

He lived to see the overthrow of the slave power, which he
hated with all the intensity of his nature. He also
witnessed the revolution in Kansas as to the liquor power.
The files of the _Champion_ for the spring of 1885, have
an account of a notable meeting in the court-house at
Atchison of the friends of law and order. The friends of
the saloon, for nearly five years after prohibition was
the law of the State, had ignored the law, and challenged
its enforcement. This convention was the first general
gathering of the citizens of Atchison County to protest
against this lawlessness, and demanded that the officers
of the law close the saloons. Pardee Butler was one of the
leading spirits in the convention. Many will recall his
fiery speech of that day. He spoke of the thirty years of
his life in Kansas, and of the great events that had
happened. He then denounced the actual rebellion then in
existence, and called for its suppression. That convention
was the beginning of the end of the downfall of the
organized saloon power in Atchison.

Pardee Butler was in sympathy with good men in every good
cause. While a born controversialist, and strong in his
convictions, he was glad to work with Christians of any
name in building up the kingdom of God in the world. He
identified himself heartily with the Sunday-school work,
and was anxious that everything should be done for
children and youth, not only to make them believers, but
good men and good citizens. I agree heartily with what
Noble Prentis has recently said of him: "We knew him well
in his later years; a brave and earnest man; full of ideas
for making this world better, and confident that they
would succeed. He has gone to the company of those who, on
every field for these hundreds of years, where the battle
for the sacred rights of man was to be fought out, have
cried, _'O Lord, make bare thine arm!'_ and have bared
their own."

MANHATTAN, KAN., October 26, 1888.




Footnotes:

[1] When they were making the raft father noticed that one of the logs
was sound and the other rotten. They fastened them together by nailing
shakes--shingles--from one to the other. Some one remarked that the
nails would pull out the first time the raft struck a snag. Then they
said they would drive in long wooden pins. But father noticed that the
long pins were driven into the sound log, while the ends on the rotten
log were only fastened by the nails.

One of the logs of which the raft was made was much longer than the
other, and on the end of the longer log they put the flag. And over the
rough swift current father walked the dizzy length of that single log
and took down the flag. Mother still keeps that flag as a precious
relic. Several years ago one of the men engaged in that mob ran for
office in Northern Kansas. His opponent borrowed the flag, to use in the
campaign, and returned it in good order. But we have since learned that
he had several copies of it painted, and that one of them is now in the
rooms of the Kansas Historical Society, in the showcase with John
Brown's cap, and is shown as the veritable flag that was on Pardee
Butler's raft.


[2] The Thirteenth Kansas Regiment, which was raised in 1862, was
composed of Atchison County men. They voted to request father to
become their chaplain, and they sent him word, requesting him to apply
to Gen. Lane for the appointment. He did so, and received a letter
from Gen. Lane, asking, "How much will you pay for the place?" Father
replied, "If the position of chaplain is sold for a price, I do not
want it."


[3] Bro. Garrett not only gave freely of his money to the church, but he
gave freely of time, and trouble, and anxious watching. He also gave
liberally and constantly of provisions and other necessaries to his
poorer neighbors. His brother-in-law, Dr. Moore, complained that he was
spoiling the church by taking such constant care of it. "O well," said
Bro. Garrett one day, "every church has to have a wheel-horse, and I
might as well be the wheel-horse as any body."


[4] When father took this letter to Lawrence, he met Mr. Redpath, the
_Tribune_ reporter, who requested permission to copy it for the _New
York Tribune_.

Before Mr. Redpath had completed his copy, the editor of the _Herald
of Freedom_ demanded the manuscript to put in type. The edition of the
_Herald of Freedom_ containing it was destroyed, and father only
obtained a mutilated copy of it. But from that portion printed in the
_Tribune_, and what was left of the _Herald of Freedom_, he secured a
complete copy of the letter.



[5] When Col. Sumner's soldiers were asked what they would do if they
were ordered to fire on the Free State men, they replied, "We would
aim above their heads."


[6] When father reached the east bank it was so slippery that the oxen
would not go down. So he hitched them to the back of the sled, and,
with a handspike, pried it to the edge of the bank, and started it
down. Of course it slid down the hill, and pulled the oxen with it.


[7] Mr. May was not the blustering rough that many people suppose a
frontiersman to be. He was a quiet, hard-working farmer, kind and
neighborly, but ready to defend his own rights, and those of his
friends, or of the poor and down-trodden. His proverbial phrase was,
"Whatever I do, I want to do it so well that the world will be none
the worse for my having lived in it." His son, E. E. May, says that he
used to say that he learned from his Bible to hate slavery. He could
lead a prayer-meeting as easily as he could lead a regiment, and he
could defend the Scriptures as readily as he could defend his home. I
once heard him say that he had never kept a hired man for any length
of time, but that he succeeded in persuading him to join the church
before he left him. MRS. R. B. H.