Sauk Rapids frontierman. [volume], May 03, 1855, Image 1

About Sauk Rapids frontierman. [volume] (Sauk Rapids, M.T. [i.e. Minn.]) 1855-1860

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" * Ti-L ' ’ ■'
art it It II C ; A*a'V w •
V«» eeri my darling May,
Uader lie tmagh* of the mil>#lrita'ilMM|
*; ? hn*r»ed rarty tht nanoiar gmn,
Upw»ihlfcmKi^*if—
Ay. hag ere the shining deg.
The rln vers while' am) high,
Covered her (bet u she eroesed the hill
•T* tell that she loved me indy still,
A«*%m r till the dew was d*y—*
Ay, UH after the dew was dry.
O the sweet, sweet troth!
jj We plighted eedrr the a»iA-*hi*e thorn.
Tie foidta cloak of the frirmßjr Bum
Bd% wrapping es both—
Ay, closely wrapping as both.
n»e cold of heart an; frown,
That I and my gentle, gentle May,
(Jader the milk white thorn that day,
Talked till the sen was down—
Ay, till after the son was doom.
The thoro-tree’s whitest bough
Ww not so graceful); fair as she,
And the angel* thought so as well as we,
As she lives in their palace eow—
Ay, my May is an angel sow.
New York, 1855.
For the Sauk Rapids Frontierman.
A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE FIRST SET
TLEMENT ON RED RIVER.
Lord Selkirk, being at that time in ,
Canada, heard of this disturbance, and
sent out a company of soldiers to retake
the Fort. This was done ; and the
banished party returned in the summer
of 1817, but too late in the season to cul
tivate the fields, and lay up a supply Ibr
winter. In this distressed and unhappy
condition, Lord Selkirk found bis colooy
the only time he visited Red River. He
was very much disheartened by these
trials, and it was thought to have seri
ously affected his health. He had ex
pended ninety thousand pounds sterling
of his own property, and but little good,
apparently, had been accomplished by
it. The lands he had purchased of the
Indians, excepting what was occupied
by the Scotch, he made over to the
Hudson's Bay Company. He returned
to Europe and lived but a very few
years.
I have said that the banished party,
after wintering at Fort York, returned
the next saimner to Red River. On
their arrival a scene presented itself
which brought vividly to mind the heart
•ngnding trials of the previous summer.
The dogs and wolves had taken from
their resting places the bodies of those
slain in b tile, and their bones lay, an
arm or lo<»t here, and a head there, scat
tered over the face of the ground to a
great distance They were gathered
Oj, and decently buried. After staying
here a few weeks, nearly the whole
settlement, which by this time had
some additions from Europe, were driv
en ptd by hunger to winter on the plains.
They wgre a mixed company, as may
he seen from the fact that in thejr camp
that whiter they were able to speak
twenty-seven differ nt languages. In
the spring they returned, and did what
tbey emtld feward making comfortable
habitations. They also gut to wbat
seed they had, hut from this time for
throe years their crops were partly or
entirety e»! off by locusts. Their first
s
I /
a
A V,
(COSCLUDED.)
Company discharged servants, (this
Tftt? the HudsonV Bay sad North West .
Companies netted r aider the name of
Hudson’s Bay Company.) and the set
tlement increased rapklty Foororfive
years after this they were visited with a
flood which swept away their houses apd
destroyed much other property. In Hie
month of May, and a part of June, the
time fgr planting end sowing, they were
paddling over the plains to their canoes.
Some mile# from their habitations, they
found a resting place for the idet of ,
their feet. Soon as t)»e waters were
dried up, they sowed barley, and such
other things as mature quickly ; and
thus furnished themselves with a very
scanty supply of provisions.' In build
ing again, they toelt the precaution to
set their houses on higher ground, a lit
tle farther from the river, so that subse
quent floods have not made an entire
destruction of them.
The present number of inhabitants at
Red River is about six hundred -
five hundred Crees orKnisteneaux, and
one hundred Ojibwas. Many families
moved to the United Stales and Canada
in the days of their adversity. Most of
the English and Scotch live between
Upper and Lower Fort Garey, a dis
tance of eighteen or twenty miles. The
greater part of the inhabitants are Half
breeds ; children of fur traders, and
their servants, and native women.
The settlement lies on both sides of
the river and extends more than forty
miles. On the west side, between the
two fi»rts, the houses, parks and culti
vated fields, lie between the river and
the “King’s Road," as they call the
carriage road. West of the road lies
an extensive prairie, where, in summer,
all their cattle feed in common. Just
before sunset they may be seen scatter
ed over the plains, far as the eye can
reach, every herd making its pay to the
owner’s gate, which opens JeT"
running by tfieharnto the river. Their
fields are not large, as they have mar
ket for but little produce. By a law of
the place, they all commence hav-mak
ing on the 2ftth of July, that each one
may have an equal chance. Their hay
field is in common, and far out on the
plains
Among the Scotch, many of the wo
men know as much about out-door-work
as the men. They do not go out to
make hay, but in securing crops, taking
care of cattle, &c , they do their share.
Some of them are first rate reapers. A
very few cut °nd draw w«*od, but that is
becoming unpopular Many a time have
I seen a bright, rosy-cheeked, ladylike
woman in her broad ruffled, snowy white
cap, go out, when her husband, father
«r brother returned on a cold winter’s
dpy, and take care of his horses or ox
en, -while he warmed himself, and took
refreshment which she had in readiness
for him.
They all card and spin their own wool,
and full their own cloth. The process
of fulling is this. When a web is
brought from the weavers, the young
, men are invited in, and the cloth is wet
. with soapsuds, and thrown upon -the
t floor - Jg**.™ d " wn e " ch
si other with tbe cloth between their feet,
1 gqd something to support their backs,
» and commence operations, by kicking
i it; each ope resting as be finds if tie
| ccesary, fill it is kicked enough. The
i wet floor apd the steam arising from
f! the cloth, added to proluse prespiratiun.
gives them a thorough wetting. The men
retire to change their dress, while the
women jgMlmr up the cloth and prepare
supper. The whole reminded me of an
! uld-feriiioned New England quilting.
Some lime mere e fulling-mill was pur
chased end brought over from England,
bat f ms tdtdßbef k is not yet in opera
«ma. I heard them remark that they
wanted-fis' amid aome of their ingenious
among the Yankres, that
wight learn to do such things.
[Their grist-adßi are anmerous, and are
rlinhed by the wind ; and their Inmber
ire hot three
ef say kind in the
Wisstiidll these who mminfilriura the
AiwitXACTiioaticK Hi!''^McAi^^lmjtsoiii^^
.<•. -. *.-)• »*.«*.*, #*-t. '., «'Jsßas' ■ .*«. ••*» i SK"^^SRRIQSWAI' t . •*«■.*• ■'. s. ! 'l v 1 ’»■ . ,<lw •,• * ** ■
■ SAUK MDRNINGi MAir3i 1855.
-- -- - - --- -- --- -----
ling was swarded to a Scotch wenmndpli
itjr acqyamtance'for n'little fine
yarn, not more than a lady might easgfl
ran through her finger ring* VeiyS|>|
era I premiums were aWWPeived fl*®
- various o»her articles. iWir apinniogl
is all done on Httle-wheels, fhe same ami
ar# used forSptnningflax. ' ;
There are three Epf-e.patU c*urrhe*f
-in the settlement, a CMholtc
and one or two Chapels : alsh a
nery with some ten.br ffften %i?« ( riWj§
most numerous sectj him the Episcopa
lians are by farthimogt influential.,
The Scotch, when they'left Scotland,
had the promise of a minister who could
speak Gaelic, and they have been very .
much dissatisfied that the promise has
not been fulfilled. Till quite recently,
they have met for several years with
the Episcopalians for worship, though
they have always been very partial to
the Presbyterian form. Since 186*2 they
have had a very nble minister, Rev. Mr.
Black. He cannot speak Gaelic, but
is one of the bestW preachers, and his
people are very much attached to him.
They all understand English now ex
cepting a few of the old people
There are but few schools compared
with the extent of the settlement, nr
with thennmberof its inhabitants ; and
most of these are supported by the
Church Missionary Society, London.
Some twenty-five years since, Rev. Mr.
Jones established a high school. Rev.
Mr. MacaKum, his successor, had
charge of it fee fifteen years. It is new
under Uie direction of Bishop Anderson.
Most of the pupils have been children
of the chief fur traders throughout Ru
pert’s land ; of course many of them
came from a great distance. It is a
boarding-school, and the expense of a
pupil is about twenty-fere pounds ster
would he considered good style in any
New England village. Neatness and
order are visible throughout the whole
establishment.
Rev. M. Cochran is the fether of the
Indian settlement. He went there in the
early days of the Colony, and his labors
have been successful. The Indians wn
-1 der his direction live in houses and cul
tivate the ground. They have advanced
to a good degree of civilization, and
many of them are Christians. Air.
Cochran is an Episcopalian.
In conclusion, I wish to add my testi
mony to that of others in fevor of hos
pitality of the Selkirkers. During m<»re
; than six months’ residence among them,
we found many friends, who seemed to
take as much interest in our welfare as
thouah we were their near relatives.
The rooms that we had ticcMpied were
* offe-ed free for another yesr, and the
, gentleman and his wife said further,
that they had rather give something to
addition, than to have ns |e?ive. If. as
a people, they are behind the age in
1 some other things, in geneml h<>«pitnlitv
they advance. One might-learn
lessons t§U»re, whice, if imiversaUv prar
’ ticed. would add materially to the hap
1 piness of this little world. The < Ikirk
* ers have reminded me of our Saviour’s
r saying to his desctples, “Ye al-«n ought
t In wash one nother’s feet.” This an
cient practice is not wh*4ly forgotten hy
5 them ; at le**t, not by a certain class.
1 wflst can be metre grateful to the
, worn and weara traveller* than such
like attentions, flowing frtoifi a Wann be
’ nevolent heart ? And to those who feel
‘ it to be more blessed to give than h» ts*
* ceive, the pleasure is great, and thcre
f fore the happiness is mutual. ** Go and
1 do likewise." E- T. A.
A CsriTAt. Anacnor*.
Risley says, that when he was in Ven
ice, an American captain and an En
glishman met at dinner.
“ You are an American, sir?’’ said the
Englishman.
“I reckon I am," returned the cap
tain.
“ You have the name of being good
warriors?”
“Yes," said the Yankee, “we sho*t
pretty well.”
“But how is it yon are ao anxious to
make peace with Mexico ?—this does
not appear much like spunk."
“You are an Englishman?’’ interro
gated fhe Yankee.
“ Yes," replied the EngHahman.
“ WA” said the Yankee, “!.;*§!»
MOW em B*» Imm'sKni SM»
witk Mexico* htrt nriwgw
A 2 tO LA;
.i'i f. ‘ • J
IBE JIEDOE <JF BETROTH Ah ,
i AMMitaGC OF MEWnrSAD ABBKV. '
v ‘W fsi m'f'd vast x. s s . ,
Romance ! Is there a spot within all '
jpk* r<pnset heritage of earth—upon which >
Mbwtdnst not fling thy drapery of beauty, I
Spr.rosy garl nds and green leaves *
ekarming it unto human heart—winning 1
it Inhuman love ? Romance! Youth- 1
ful art thou in thy eternal beauty yet, I
though thou hadst thy being with the >
first dawn of creation—though thy 1
pleasant shadow was cast upon the l
flowers of Paradise—and thy presence l
lighted up the darkness to the saddened, <
sinful wanderers therefrom.—Youthful ! '
Ay, and not alone the heart of youth
bows down to thee ; but hearts scathed i
by stern cares and sorrows of years. <
yield to thee a willing and delightful 1
reverence. Fair type art thou of that
mysterious spirit, whose reins are in the
High and Holy Hands, that is to thrill
the soul in its purified existence, and
enthrall it in the glorious presence of
God. “ A thing of beauty, and a jnv
forever;" yet, hast thou to yield thee
to one more poweriu! on earth. For
while we gaze on thy loveliness and
grace delighted, 10, the form of reality
darkly rises—but even that, fair angel
that thou art, thou dost softly gild with
thy sweet radiance. * * *
, Fast the middle of the eighteenth cen
tury, Newstead Abbey had remained
uninhabited for some half dozen years.
Its present proprietor hail been absent
for that length of time on the continent,
ferthe most part in Italy and France.
Onty a year previous to his absence he
had come in possession of the Ardent
jjuthat one year of his rcsi
dence thereat had been sufficient to
give the neighboring peasants no very
fevorabte prepossessions for their new
Lord. But six years having passed, tho’
the remembrance of him had n»»t es
caped from their minds, yet weari< d of
the long still less and silence reignmg
where ought to have been life and
mirthfulness, they concluded that any
.proprietor of the deserted place would
be preferable to a longer vacancy.
Thfy had hopes too, that the passing of
years over the spirit of the wild young
mad, would have served to humbie his
haughtiness and soften his sternness.
It was with much eager impatience
tkriiribre, that they, especially the old
seraints, were waiting the arrival of
their master, who had forwarded orders
for Itis ready reception. The day of
the gkpee ed arrival dawned ; and every
hottrnfliereafter the eager eyes of the
»»ld and the young were stretched away
to thft distance, to catch the first view
of the returned master. The day pass
ed ; ;md-the eyes were just as watchful,
: n ltd tJie hearts ofthose humble peasants
just a* hopeful. Tlie last rays of the
! setting sun were gilding the tops of the
larch and. Sir-trees, that skirted the
winding road leading from Nottingham
to Newstead, when horsemen were ob
served slowly and leisurely advancing.
. Immediately every tongue was busy, lor
| the groups of peasantry had at this hour
• eoltented together, opposite a small
J hut, serving as a public inn, and under
a fiue-epreadMig oak, that stands just at
the gyle-entrance to the park. Delight
. and expectation spoke from every hoo
. est, sun-burned, and from every childish
• feature ; for every one of those honest
hearts were ready to love the stranger.
! Slowly, with a few outriders, he ad
. vanced, even to the very gate, when thn
straw hits, kerchiefs and hands that had
I been waving their welcome, gave j|tace
to a Ms and hearty burst of cheers j
1 while tears of joy, in the moment of en
, thusiasnt, flowed from eyes unused to*
i weep. Cruelly checked was this by the.
stern vofe and sterner
-By run, (nbnnnM And <«>•«■[
• Inntcnd iff hnrrini it
i bndWn, Ant I’U
j f ;» ■'
wa a v iti,
be»T y eyebrowa—a od Ib«MP <t«p Wre
quick)/ turned wide neve a few, by
whom the gate wjs hastily thrown open.
I’ll teach thee to give a better *i*b
come than this hideous gabble to the
Lord of New stead Abby”—and with this
he mercile-sly thrust his spurs in the
sides of hi* sp steed, that
scwni bore out of sight Sir Win. Byron,
the long plume of his cap warioggrace*
fully in the evening breeze, jhe eye*
of the plants each invhmtarily turned
to follow, and g ized with mingled emo
tions of indignation, sorrow and dis ip
pointinent, till a winding of the carriage
road hid him and his retainers from
view. Then sadly they returned to
their respective humble houses, wishing
that Newstead might still longer be but
the abode of crickets and swallows.
Meantime, Sir Win. Byron reached the
Abby, and hastily dismounting, after
giving particular orders to the groom,
to have his favorite horse perfectly car
ed for, passed through the vestibule,
into the large stone hall, thence to the
left, into a smaller one, at the extremity
of which was the stair-case ; this he
ascend d and passing the extent of the
gallery, opened a d >or leading into a
spacious but desolate apartment, design
ed original'y as a refectory, at the ex
tremity of which a picture-pannelle I
door, led into a small but neat apart
ment which Sir Win had ordered to be
fitted for his reception. Accordingly,
though it presented no elegance, it
formed a striking and pleasing contrast,
to the desolation pervading the rooms
through which he had passed; and as he
entered, oppressed with heat, weariness
and excitement, he threw open the win
dow fronting the South, and gazed out
upon the beautiful scene before him
Just in front was a large pleasure gar
den, though not then “ blossoming as
the rose,” as since, in which has also
been opened a small lake from the larg
er one above—and along in the distance
was a fine prospect over an undulating
vale. Seating him-elf witnin th« em
brasure o f the wiudow, and leaning -i
cheek upon his o en palm, he mused tin
a few moments apparently sadlv ; fir
the sternness of his brow relaxed, an I
the fixed compiession of his mouth re
solved to a much less degree. “ Yes—
safety—here is safety, which l desire,
and repose; all the repose that 1 may
ever find on earth. But alas, why
whisper to myself repose, or dream of
even a negative enjoyment of existence,
while the most sorrowful of memories
overshadows my soul. O Aziola, Azi
ola ! Thy name is the music of my
heart yet—though the suns of many
years have arisen and set, since I whis
pered its melody to thine ear.” A
thought of a foreign nature seemed to
strike him, for he abruptly turned away,
and hastening to return below, met up
on the stair-case the servants, bringing
forwsrd his travelling baggage. Se
lecting a small t unk, he carried it to
bis room, and unlocking it, took from
thence a small box of metallic material,
and peculiar workmanship, which he
placed upon the centre of the mantel
piece, which was broad, massive, and
curiously carved with grotesque figure
of olden date. A servant, watching his
master’s movements, eyed scrutinizing
ly the deposited b >x, when he at once
received n severe reprimand, and al
most instant annihilation from the sud
den flash of those eyes that spoke and
reproved far more than word* ; and with
a vehemence of suddenly excited pas
sion, the offending, but innocent menial
was hurled mony paces out of the id
joining refect ry. The justly enraged
servant soon reported this circumstance,
a d before an hour was passed, the
contents of the mysterious b*x became
a subject of wonder and speculation.
Sir Wm. Bvmn had now just passed
his thirtieth year. Of somewhat c <m
tnandtng figure, though considerably in
clined to corpulency, he was exceeding
ly expert in athletic exercises, a skilled
spirtsman, and an, anient lover of the
<pase. His mind was a strange com-
Kugity, His was ' a twill, not to be snh
tlUfi hy the will of another—-his a heart
to lie appalled hv no dangers, to know
n<» fltjwitw-ss, or irresolution, to yield #to
obstacle snsce.ptihle of human re
jdstance, irt fbcaive n <> injury, to forget
Unlove- Yet all this yielded to one
great passion of his soul—de-fre of
Vi.jrfr „ If*** this could
with i|h spirit of courage
iaffiravery, have ascribed to
him, omy —’- m • pw^-.n— yirt tr*». ii
ABBEY.
place
[cerned; though he made himself disliked
and dreaded by m»*t w1»o approached
him, yet life to kh » even, eat a precious
me bm that nant not be wafted oa other
shrine. Whence was it ? Had he
commiit* d <4l me fearful crime, thm* made
him ah rink from th< idea of in inun
date'* presence wtth hi* great Judge—
or had he some darting object yet to
accomplish ? Speculations, however,
in such instil tiers are of little importance,
and of no avail; especially as if nny
be remarki d that even the good and the
innocent cling with a tenacious fobdm fc*
to the present life, even though they
may hav« a faith and h pe in |be joys of
immortality. Week* and months passed
monotonously away, the yoaog ‘ lord
spending the greater part of his time in
angling or in the chase—his favorite
amusements/ making great pets of his
pack of h 'Uuds, which were round and
sleek as' any other lord’s in the whoje
realm. To the great satisfaction of the
servants most of the hours spent by Sir
Wm in the Abh» y were passed gnlitn*
ril> iu his own room, where for
they ko« w, he h id iMiitni'ioion with tiie
dark sp rits in w'i in it. pr tessed to be
lieve : but for that they cared not. so
that he infrequently apo*‘a?ed am mg
them ; as K-casionly he did to their ut
ter fear and trembling. Several of the
neighboring lords had evinced their
kindness and civility, in paying r»*sj ect
to Sir Wm. by ari early call— n >t one
ol which he had deigned to return. , It
was evident that he sought retirement,
and desired no intrusion ; and there is
no determining at what- point this seem
ing disposition would eioutged t ah
not an event transpired having a ten
dency to transform it. 1
(CoSTISUED IS SEKT PsFI R )
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
A writer in Blackwood’s Magazine,
several years since, relates from person
al knowledge, the following anecdote of
Frankliu, illustrative of the character of
the man who could bide hi* day.
By nature, perhaps, like George
A’ashington, whose character, by the
way, is greatly misnnd<-r>t >o«l, he was
a man of strong passions, which, Iter
many years, by continual guatdiaii-ltip,
trial, and severe discipline, he had bro’t
entirely under his .control. This, we
say positively, was the character of
v ashington : tsii< wt* believe to have
b en the character of Franklin.
We happen t • ku >w something of the
doctor’s determination, however, in two
cases ; b *th growing out of the Same
event, where th • natural temper of the
man broke out—blazed up, like a smoth
ered fire—became visible, as it were,
al at once, in spite of himself. Some
time about the year 1768, he was in this
country, acing as agent for some of our
tra < sat la ntic possessions. The troubles
had already begun there. One day he
w* nt befoie th* privy council, as agent,
with a petition fr<>m the assembly of
Massachusetts; or, more carefully
speaking—»ne day, when * petition from
the provincial assembly of Massachu
setts Bay, already presented by him,
was taken up, he was treated with great
indignity, insulted, grossly abused by
the solicitor general Wederburne. He
bore it without any sign of emotion. All
eyes were upon him. No change or
shaddow of change went over his face.
His friends were amazed at his forbear
ance . They wondered at his equanimity;
they were aitnost ready to reproach him
for it. Such untimely Belf-c«>mmand
conld only proceed from indifference to
the great cause, or, so they thought,
from a strange m iral sensibility Oq
his way from the place of humiliation,
they gathered about him. He stoppod,
he stood still; his manner, look, voice,
were thuse of a man who ha** quit fly
concentrated every thought aod every
hope under heaven, all his energies,
upon a single p int. ** His m ister shall
pav for ii!” said he, and passed on.
The other cuammstauce grew out of
the sain** aff-or. As ;i murk *f especial
confide ratiuu tor the privy council, the
Doctor appeared before them in a su
perb dress, fter tbe court fashion of the
time. He wore it bravelv—he looked
uncommonly well in it. Finding, how
ever, that this courtly garb, thus chosen, *
thus worn had been of no avail, as &
refuge or shelter to him ; that *m the
cootrary, it had only made him a better
maik. and exasperating his adversary ;
that w >rsc than all, his eon-idera** jov
altv had been im-nniderstood, for a piece
of dirty adulation,, or worse yet for a
piece »f wretched foppery: he went, on
' leaving the Council, sf might wav Home
threw tVm dress aside, ■wnd from that
s*fiir. ashr tiwr W nscfttn. till th* d*y u
which fie went with full p*HV**r iwo the
esptrt 6f the Bourbons fo ttgw fhe trtnly
'kkfmr**-ft'ane* and Jim rira
Sf U$ Am,™* ! VVhnt
the death *?^!**si
PROPRIETOR'
Na 2.
mm,