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The new era. [volume] (Sauk Rapids, Min. [i.e. Minn.]) 1860-1861, April 12, 1860, Image 1

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Grv« me leave to enjoy myself. That place that does
Contain my books, (he best companions, is
To me a glorious Court, where hourly I
Converse with the old Sages and Philosophers.
“Yet though thou wear’st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair form and gentle eye,
Lovelier in Heaven’s sweet elimate,yet the same!”
Almost a year has glided by,
My sweet child, since I saw thee die,
And I have learned to live without
The loving voice, and merry shout
Of him of whom I oft had said
I could not live if he were dead !
~2las > I’ve learned the heart can bear.
How much of grief, how much of care/
Can bear, and still the world not know
Hew hard it throbs beneath its woe.
I stand within the moonlight pale,
And if my heart sends forth its wail,
It is because I look upon
Thy little grove, my darling son ;
I think ot all thou wert to me,
Tha light to all my eye could see,
The spirit to my every thought,
The glory that with life was fraught,
Till brain and heart go almost wild,
To fee! that thou art dead, my child.
O, when I saw thy form so fair
Convulsed with agony of pain,
And felt how vain was wish or prayer,
How human aid, alas, was vain ;
Ah, when I saw thy feet must go
From all the paths they’d trod below;
To tread alone, sweet child alone,
The shadowy vale, so dim, unknown,
I thought like mothers reft ‘oefore,
That I could live nor love no more ;
1 thought ’twould never cease, the pain
That throbbed so in my burning brain ;
That to my wind bitter sorrow,
Could never come a calm to morrow.
And yet thou Viost still, my son,
Thy day of labor briefly done';
Thy blu'3 eye never more shall weep ;
“ Go-j gives to his beloved sleep.”
Th.ou arl my child, my sweat child now,
The, Heaven’s soft breeze doth fan thy brow,
Though thy white wings are soaring whore
Pure souls their angel plumage wear ;
Thou art my child, iny love, sweet love ;
O, in the Heaven of bliss above
My heart shall hold thee all its own,
My soul shall know thee as I’ve know,
A little child, with regal head
,2s every rested with - the dead,
With rounded cheek, most purely fair,
With eye deep-fringed, and soft brown lair,
With cherry lips, whose tenderness
' In words and kisses, oft did bless
My thrilling, yearning hcait with more
Of joy than it had known before,
The dimpled hands that used to twine
Themselves so fondly into mine,
The precious form that used to re3t
So lovingly upon my breast.
O, in the Heaven of bliss above,
He waits for me, this child of love ?
Life in the woods.
No. 14
It was a night in February, and
ten o’clock. Before a glowing fire, we
sat by a table reading letters and papers
that had arrived that day. The mail
came but once in a week ; —its arrival,
therefore, was quite an event. Sudden
ly footsteps approached, and a knock on
the door startled us. Fred opened it
A very tall gentleman, enveloped in a
cloak, entered, introduced himself as
Win. W. Warren, shook hands warm
ly, and recommended himself to us per
sonally by a yery gracefully spoken
compliment: “I have read some articles
ofyoura, Minnie. lam proud ofßenton
County since you have come into it.”—
A woman is apt to ignore flattery, as
such, when addressed to herself. Of
course, then, this knight of soft words
became at once a hero, in our eyes.
We had heard of Mr. Warren
his antecedents, and present position. —
His name was sufficient for an immedi
ate acquaintance. He apologized for
intruding so laie. lls hid come late at
the public house, and must pursue his
--.trney early in the morning. For two
bTurs he talked with Fred, ot the coun
try and the Indians, in a most interest
ing and charming manner- His words
were fluent and well chosen, his voice
liquid and musical.
He was of the race ofthe Ojibwas, his
mother being a great-grand daughter ot
the first white trader of these tribes
the celebrated Cadotte. This trader,
a Frenchman, married a wife from the
•'Crane” family, that being the first and
highest in Indian nobility the “Loon,
the “Bear,” and the “Wolf” being
lower orders, yet above the common
The Indian descendants of Cadotte were
all influential, and are conspicuous in
Edited by W H WOOD find Motto —“ Freedom is the only safeguard of Gorernment, and Order and Moderation are ncce-'arv to Freedom.”— Milton. MINNIE MARY LEE.
YOL. I—NO. 14.
history, as having been friendly to the
whites, brave in war, and strongly in
clined to wisdom and to peace. Mr.
Warren’s maternal uncle, No-din-a
quot, was a Colonel in the British Army,
during the last war, and was wounded
at the battle of Chippeway He was
afterwards a member of a delegation of
Indians to England, where his portrait
was taken for an historical work. We
saw it, in—we believe Pritchard’s
“Natural History of different races”—
a very noble and striking picture.
Mr. Warren’s father, Lyman War
den, was formerly a partner in the
’’American Fir Company,” a man of
influence and ability. It was, hewover,
from the maternal side that Win. W.
Warren received his influence over his
nation. He was much beloved and lis
tened to by all the Ojibwas of the North
iwest, though he was himself but twenty
fseven years of age, and would not, from
|his features, manners and customs, have
been easily distinguished from a true
white man. Like his maternal ances
tors, he had a handsome form, tall and
erect; and was well educated, and very
well read;was very interesting in conver
sation, and possessed that winning, con
fiding, simple manner, that would ex
cite sympathy, and incline to friendship.
To him was peculiarly appropriate these
jines of Alfred Tennyson, to his ever-la
mented friend, Arthur Hallam :
“And manhood fused with female grace,
In snch a sort trie child would twine
A trustful hand, unasked in thine,
And find his comfort in thy face.”
No one was better acquainted with
tho history of his nation. Respected
and confided in by his people, he was
made acquainted with all their secrets,
and exerted an influence, for good, upon
their conduct. Ills mind was stored
with their legendary traditions, which
wruld fill volumes.
A short time after this agreeable in
terview with Mr. Warren, he sent down
his horse and sleigh for our conveyance
to “Two Rivers,” the place of his resi
dence, some twenty miles North. We
tarried there several days, during which
he and Fred went away still further
North, on some legal business, not inci
dent hereto. We were quite surprised
at our courage, and exalted thereby;
being surrounded only by Indians.—
Wigwams were stationed all about,
and the house was lull of visitors.
The mother of Mr. Warren’s wife
was of the same nation. Her father
was Mr. Aitkin, a Scotchman by birth,
who had just died, after having been
distinguished for fifty years as a wealthy
Indian trader. Her name was Matilda.
She was a quiet, gentle lady, having
much more of the Indian expression
than her husband, of whom she seemed
very proud. She spoke English very
well when he was not present—not a
word of it would she speak when lie was
by. The rest of the family, the moth
er, brother and sisters who resided
there, conversed only in Chippewa—
and were extremely diffident—uot car
ing to be seen at all.
On the evening of our arrival, we were
greatly entertained. An old Indian was
called in who excelled in song-singing.
With a long stick he heat an old tin
pan, and sung war songs, love, dancing,
and scalping songs, with all the appa
rent ard >r and enjoyment, as though sur
rounding circumstances had been such
as to inspire him. After much persua
sion, a half-dozen dark-eyed damsels,
wrapped to their black eyes in blankets,
danced to the music. Their way of
dancing was peculiar. Instead of rais
ing their feet and poising them on the
“light fantastic toe,” as the coquettish
Miss of the pale face dalights to do,
they plant their feet firmly together,
scarcely lilting them, nor allowing them
to obtrude without the drooping folds of
their blankets, but mysteriously, grace
fully as could be expected, rapidly, aud
certainly very modestly, moving around
in a circle
Another evening, an old woman, p*unt
of Matilda, in Indian costume ) sat upon
the floor, according to iustom, and nar
rated the story e., a trance which occur
ed to her when she was in her tenth
year. Mr. Warren, who interpreted it
to us, said it was interesting, as being
a kind of embodiment of their religion,
which, he said, was so intangible and
mysterious, as that, except with the In
dian, it could be neither written or told.
This famous trance will form the subject
of onr next Number.
Reminicences of Missionary
Life in the Northwest.
No. 2.
We were detained at Detroit about a
week, waiting for a passage to Macki
naw. At that time the commerce of the
three upper great Lakes was very small,
compared with what it became in a few
yeais afterwards. Immigration had
then scarcely reached beyond the Si.
Clair in that direction. A few places,
long since settled by fur traders, and
still maintained principally by the fur
trade, together with some three or four
military posts, and here and there a
Canadian Frenchman with his log hut
and Indian family, were about .all the
traces of civilization then to he found
along the vast extent of coast bordering
these great inland seas. The India s
then owned nearly the whole territory,
and occupied it as their hunting ground.
There were very few vessels propell
ed by steam on the lakes then. Two or
three opportunities in a season were all
that these afforded for reaching a point
as high as the foot of Lake Superior or
Gaeen Bay. Few w’ere their trips be
yond Detroit. Tiie tide of immigration
westward did not, at this period, reach
much beyond Michigan and Indiana.—
Sail vessels were the principal crafts by
which a traveler could reach Mackinaw.
We had no alternative, and availed
ourselves of this slow and disagreeable
way of travelling. Tite vessel on which
we took passage, the first that offered,
was a small schooner of some seventy
tons burden, with a small, low, close
cabin, affording no very inviting accom
modations, especially for females. The
vessel was bound to an island in the
upper part of Lake Huron, with materi
als and men to build a light-house; and
from thence to Mackinaw. The deck
was covered over with lumber,which was
piled as high as it could he and leave
room for working the sails. The cabin
passengers consisted of the Captain,
mate, our company, and the light-house
builders, enough to fill about all the
room. The cabin was divided by a
screen, cutting off two berths at the ex
treme stern end of the vessell, which
were allotted to Mrs. H. and myself.—
At length, all tilings being on board and
a fair, fight breeze springing up, we
were sent for to embark. Here was
something new to us. In all our previ
ous voyages of life, we had never found
ourselves so completely at the mercy of
the winds and waves, nor confined in so
close quarters. The weather was very
warm, the wind either did not blow at
all, or blew in the opposite direction
from the one we wished to move in. We
were therefore obliged to lie at anchor
a much longer part of the time than we
sailed Sometimes a little breeze would
spring up; but before we could get up
the anchor and spread our canvass, it
would be gone, and we find ourselves
drifting down with tne Cu.TCPt. One
night, after having moved a few miles
during the day, partly by carrying a
small anchor ahead in a boat and throw
ing it overboard, and by a cable attach
ed to it, drawing the vessel up the
stream, wc were becalmed near where
the river entered St, Clair Lake. It
was an exceedingly hot and sultry night.
Scarcely had the sun set, when we were
visited by innumerable swarms of mos
quitoes. This was our first introduc
tion to these little troublesome and vex
atious animals, and I can assure my
readers that the very enthusiastic de
monstrations of joy they manifested in
welcoming us to their coi*7,iry, and the
cordial embraces oi our hands and feet,
which they did not cease to bestow dur
ing the whole night, inspired us with
most profound respect for their dignity
and their warmth of sympathy towards
all who are called to endure the priva
tions of frontier life. An almost thirty
years more intimate acquaintance with
them since, a familiarity in the house
and in the woods, has never left such
lasting impressions upon me. Their
power to annoy and torment that Light,
was beyond anything else in my experi
ence with these little insects. Thera
was no pmee in the vessel where we
could get out of their reach. The cab
in was fibtd with smoke, but tney would
not leave it Smoke is the most effectu
al remedy employed to keep then*, away.
But at this time they did not seem to re
gard it. We lay in our berth and roll
ed ourselves closely in the bedding, and
drew down the curta.ins, but they found
their way to our persons, as though
nothing intervened. We quit the cabin
and went On deck, wrapped ourselves
closely in blankets and cloaks, but all
to no purpose. They penetrated under
all covering with which we tried to pro
tect ourselves, or thrust their long bills
through it. There was scarcely a spot
on our hands or faces or feet, where
there was not the mark of a bite. No
one on board that night was able to
sleep. We felt the effects of this night's
encounter for several days in itching,
and burning, and swelling of our limbs
and faces.
At length, howes'er, after six or seven
days employed in coaxing the vessel up
the river, we reached the lower extrem
ity ofLake Huron. We had flattered
ourselves all along, while sweltering in
the sun by day, or smothered by the heat
or devoured by mosquitoes bv night,
that il once we could reach the lake, we
should find nothing but pleasure during
he rest of the voyage; at le..st that we
should find the wind blowing from some
quarter, and that motion would be pre
ferable to a calm, though it should even
be a head wind. We entered the lake
witli a fair wind, and blowing what sail
ors call a good breeze. For several
hours we sailed along very pleasantly.
V\ e enjoyed the change in our circum
stances. At length a dark cloud ap
peared just above the horizon in the
west. As it lose, the lightening played
across it in quick successive flashes.—
fhe peals ot thunder grew nearer, and
the cloud was approaching us with
great rapidity, evidently driven with a
fierce wind The sails were lowered
and made fust. The squall soon st: tick
us and expended its force without any
material damage to the vessel. Imme
diately the wind shifted to the X.nth
west, and blew a gale for two days.—
I lie vessel commenced to roll and pitch, I
so that no one could stand, unless lie
held on to some fixed object, or keep in
his berth, except by bracing against the
sides. We were ail dreadfully sea
sick, and came to the conclusion that
wo had not materially improved our
condition by reaching the lake. At
length, however, the wind abated, the
sea became calm again, and a fair
breeze springing MP brought us to Mack
inaw, after a voyage of ten or twelve
days from Detroit, fully satisfied with
our first experiment in navigation on
board ;t sail vessel. lie who compares
the present facilities and comforts of
travelling on these waters, with those of
thirty years ago, will he constrained to
say “the world moves.”
Correspondence of the New Era.
Manchester, N. H., March 19, ’GO
L>ear Minnie; —lh reading your
happy sketches of Life in the Woods,
and comparii?Jlhein with delineation- of
your country as now is, I feel that
truly a “new era” has dawned upon
Old times aie changed, old manner* gone,
The white man dwells in the indian’s home;
yet ’tis hard to realize that you are sur
rounded by all the comforts of civiliza
tion. In spite of myself, while lam
reading accounts of your drives to St.
Cloud, and here, and there, and every
where, I seem to see the same dreary
road, and wild, desolate country that
imagination used ever to bring before
me, when I heard the story of the wo
man with her three little ones, drawn ori
a sledge, being chased by a pack of
wolves, and her throwing her children
to them, one after the other, to save her
own life. This is my first remembera
ble story of “Out West,” and isn’t it a
bloody one? But see the change a few
years have wrought in this city. A lit
tle time ago ’twas a sandy tract of land,
covered with such a growth of splendid
Mulleins; (!) nowjt bids fair to be,if not
already arrived at the acme, what one
gifted with prophecy foretold of it near
ly a hundred '.ears ago, “that it would
one day be the Manchester of America.”
An epidemic has been prevailing here;
this winter which affected all persons in
like manner, without regard to age, sex,
or condition—differing from the hydra
phobia in this respect —the sufferers
from that disease are thrown intoconvul-;
sions by running water, while those af
fected with this, in coining in contact
with n-atcr congealed, manifest symp
toms of great distress, by tossing their
arms aloft, contorting their bodies in
every conceivable shape, and in many
instances being entirely unable to re
main in u standing position.
Well, well, —tlie “skaters” have had
a right merry time of it the past white'
hereabouts; and verily, ’t: • » pleasant
sight to see four or five hundred
v. iiii very many of them dressed in lull
skating costume: gay streamers, ff at
ing curls, bright eyes rosy cheeks
hearts brimful of mirth and happinr s '
We have had a very novel, sociil af
fair to close the winter festivities. Xinej
gentlemen, jiidoiceis and bachelors, re
ceived their friends at Merchants fix
change, the spacious chambers of the;
central part being cleared and fitted up
in the most recherche style for the occa-j
«ion.~ There were collected togethar of
tlie beauty and cluvalay of New Hantp-j
shire, Massachusetts, New V’Vrk City,;
and other cities in other States, one
thousand or more. Tables groaned
with every luxury and delicacy, and
laughed a in profusion of most raie and
beautiful green-house flowers. ’Twas
decidedly a magnificent affair. Unfor
tunately, I cannot designate the “Belle”
of the fete, there were so many bril
liant beauties, and blue-eyed darlings.
To tell the truth, my fancy kept my eyes
in a ceatain corner where a bright
star shown, for a little time, enwrapped
in surcoat, and after its disappearance
I mused. And so the winter has!
gone. I’d like to give you a dash of
sentiment here, hut I don’t feel like
fighting ‘ wind-mills” to-day.
Manchester, like all other places, has
* Its ups and down* and alterations,
Bran-new. span new speculations.”
But since tin; “crisis,” speculating
bubbles have ceased to charm with their
rainbow-lmes. Everything seems to be
“looking up” this Spring. The Blod
gett Paper Mills, that some time since
died it natural death from clear exhaus
tion in futile, infantile attempts to go,
has been sold :«» B istoni ms for one-
third of its value, and is to be converted
into a Carpet Factory, which is a new
thing for us.
I almost forgot to tell you that we had
quite a severe thunder shower past the
middle of last month. Yours,
Giu.imf.ve. St. Ap.k.
Godev’s Lady’s Book, April No. re-j
ceived. Still beautiful ns ever, and;
even more attractive to its many fair
readers, in the multiplicity of its instruc
tions and illustrations respecting every
thing that concerns their amusement
ond usefulness. With almost every
body Godey is a sine qua mu for the
work table. One copy $2; three copies
$5. Address L. A. Godey, Philadel
phia .
Female Progress.
Our American ladies—God bless;
them!—grow more sensible and beauti
ful, year by year. Probably it is ow
ing to their taking the papers. How
ever this may be, the fact is unquestion-J
able. Many wear good shoes and
strong gaiters, and even nice high boots,
when needful, and walk more than for
merly, to the great bep.fctil of their
healths and complexions. They ride
on horse hack—all who have horses—
with a perfection that draws crowds or
j admirers. The noble horse—most
j beautiful of quadrupeds—appears to
have a strong sympathy for the women,
most beautiful of bipeds.
The ladies skate, also, in winter.
Wherever the water freezes ha d en
ough, you may see them glmding over
the smooth expanse, as graceful as sn
many birds They swim along the sea
coast ; at a hundred fashionable ant
unfashionable watering places you ina)
’ see them, in their bathing-dresses, buf
fetting the billows, and in the lake
I and river* and creeks of the interior
Printing Establishment,
Second Story,
" e have a large assortment of new and Type,
Border, Cuts, Etc., w Uich esable* u* to turn out soma
of the best job work in the State, arid at Sow price*.
But He id*, Posters, Bum,
Carus, Bills, Circium,
Invitations, Labels, Etc.
Aad every otker description of printing excep
Bookwork, done nratlv and promptly at this id&ce.
Blanks of every description prince, to order.
we hope they follow the same pleasant
and invigorating fashion.
In the city—and we wish the example
could be followed in all large towns and
villages, there are ladle’s gymnasiums,
where married ladies, single ladies,
and little girls, in what of exercise, go
two or three times a week, put no a
sutiable dress, and then go through all
the hale and graceful exercises which
strengthen their limbs, expand their
chests, quicken the circulation, and
|make them at once vigorous and grace
ful, strong and beautiful.
From the Portsmouth Journal.
God bless the little feet that can never ej »*■*
■ ~r«y.
For the little shoes are empty u r ” ,
r J 1 _.y closet laid
away ;
donu.i.nes l uV .j one in my ! and forgetting sti 1
t is a hu’e h.iif worn shoe, not largr enough for
no :
i T
\nd at once I foe! sense of bitter loss and
-is slurp as when t vo years ag > it cut mv heart
in tw in.
<Ji. little feet that wearied not, I wait for theai no
loi I am diifii-.g on the tide, but (hey havo
reached the shore :
-ind while the Landing tear drops wet these halo
shoe so old,
I try to think my darlings’ feet ar9 treading
streets of g Id.
-ind so I ! y them down again, bat always tsrn
to say—
God bless the litllo feet that non) so surely causot
-Ind while I thus am standing I almost seeia to
IVo littls forms beside me, jast as they used ts
be !
! 1 wo little face* lifted with their sweet and tender
eyes !
-ill me / l might have known that look was born
of Paradise.
I reach tny arms outfondiy, but they clasp the
empty air /
1 here is n .thing of toy darling hut the shoes thsy
used to wear.
Oh the bitterness of parting cannot be dons away
Till I meet my darlings walking where their feet
can never stray ;
When I no more am drifted upon the surging
But with them safely landed upon tho riverside;
Be patient, heart ! while waiting to see their shi
ning way,
For the little feet in the golden street can never
go astray.
Brilliantly Beautiful, yet Un
happy.—\\ hen Medemoiselle Mara,
the celebrated T rench actress whose
beauty wa* so inucli admired by Nepol
eon 1 was growing old, though she pos
sesesed money, diamonds, horses, car
riages, ect., and a hotel in Baris besides
two or three country houses ; though
her salooms were the most popular ot
all in Paris ; though every distinguish
ed person in Europe had recognized her
superiority, and every one almost had
yielded, in bank notes and with persents
t.» her fascinations, she was neverthe
less, the unhappiest mcman in France,
because as an actiess, people were tir
ed ol her. The witty Eugenede Mire
cuirt gives an account of her pleading
with the manager of the Francois to bo
allowed to appear yet a little longer,
and her grief at finding her nntnc in the
“ attaches” only two or three times a
week. “ Arn I then no more an actress,
said unhappy Mars, “ have 1 not my
voice as always ? Are not my arms
beautiful, and do not my eyes shine as
in old times ?” Poor woman, like Mrs
>ibboriH, her only pleasure was dressing
for the scene, ar.d her dearest friends
were the dazzling foot-lights. It was,
indeed, hard to forego them. But one
niiiht s--m*» hartless person threw an
“ immortelle”—the wreath which the
French hang upon tombs—on the stage
anti it fell as intent <1 directly at the feet
of the actress, professional ardor had
outlived her beuty. She fled from the
stage mortified and horror struck, bear
ing the green wreath with her. The
harsh lesson was lost upon her sensitive
nature. “Ah ! these canaille of Par
isians !” was her observation, and she
sadly resigned herself to the abandon
ment of the dressing room, whose gold
and silver toilet set, miraculous appoint
ment, etc., wrre the marvel of Paris,
and never entered a theatre again.
.Erin’s Symbol the Shamrock.— lt is
an old tradition,that St. Patrick,preach
ing one day on a grassy mound, and
explaining the doctrine of the Trinity on<
of the bystanders asked, ‘‘how then
could he three in one.” St. Patrick
stooping down, plucked a shamrock fron
the turf, and pointing to the thret
laves uniting in one stem, told them i
was an illustration of what he was en
■ deavoring to explain, from that day th
i shamrock became the emblem of Ire
r |land.

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