OCR Interpretation

The new era. [volume] (Sauk Rapids, Min. [i.e. Minn.]) 1860-1861, July 19, 1860, Image 1

Image and text provided by Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn91059360/1860-07-19/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?

Thumbnail for

EtlTEl) BT
Give me leave to enjoy myself. That place that does
anon tain my hooks, the best companions, is
C 0 me a glorious Court, where hourly I
T verse with the old Sages and Philosophers-
Not all a Dream
“ The Future, that sweat world which is hope's
own, Lay fair before,”
One whispered in my wondering ear,
Ere came my bridal ere,
“Thy glorious visions that appear
So beautiful— deceive.
Thoa’ltturn thee back*to maidenhood
An to a picture rare—
Thoa’lt see it in thy solitude,
The fairest of the fair.”
It threw one little momont’s shade
Athwart my trusting heart,
The next, sweet hope and fancy made
That shadow aII depart.
How could I think that life with one,
Mere loved than all beside,
Should be less bright than girlhood’s dawn,
Than maiden’s evening tide?
\ stood before the man of God:
My heart was fall. fr^s,
I knew Hit wing was spread abroad,
That ’neath it we should be/
And when I gave my willing hand
To him who had my love,
1 prayed that thus we two might stand
Unitedly above.
Few little months have flitted by,
Like leaves thrown on a stream,
All quiet, and more joyously,
And blissful than my dream.
The sky has been all bluo above,
The stars and sun been bright,
And in my heart I’ve felt that love
Was one sweet world of light.
O, not too colored were my dreams,
Their glory was but dim,
Just flitting foam upon the stream
O’er jewels deep within.
The waking from their rosy light
Was to a fairer day,
Like, dawning to a wintry night.
A glorious morn of May.
O! never chill the gushing dreams
Of fond and trusting youth;
Their brightness, though 100 bright it seems,
May mirror yet the truth-
And thongh their visions, one by one,
May fade like flowers away,
Ftill let them think their own bright sun,
Doth roll in endless day/
Life in the Woods.
No. 20.
The following description of r. cele
bration at the goodly town of Watab
in 1853 was published in an eastern
Journal. It forms the conclusion of
one of a series of letters that we then
were sending from this new countiy «
Latterly, to relieve the monotony, we
have had a celebration of the Fourth. —
On the morning of that day, as our good
dames had just become immersed to the
elbow in the business peculiar to wash
ing-day, messengers came down from
Watab, (a town six miles to the North
of us) soliciting all of Sauk Rapids to
join in a celebration at Mr. Gilman’s
house. Now Mr. Gilman had sent down
his lumber wagon for us—a kindness
which should be regarded. According
ly, every woman’s work was left in
stalu quo. Lest you infer that all the
citizens of our town are so few as to be
able to be stowed away in one lumber
wagon, 1 will inform you that some of
our inhabitants have lumber wagons of
their own, and thus were able to be in
dependent on the famously independent
Mr. Gilman, who had little of this
world’s goods when he came into the
country, four or five years ago, is now
a wealthy farmer, possessing one of the
best and most skilfully cultivated farms in
our country. It was solely at his'expense
the great feast was spread, to which
about seventy-five persons sat down
and did ample justice, in thankfulness ot
Jjaart after long rides and wearisome
walks 7n? Irbies were laid in a beau
tfful grove near the «»*')' white-washed
cottage, and lavishly laden with all good
things—roast pig, venison, wild flesh
and fowl, strawberries and cream, In
dian rice, pemican, and all such sub
stantialities and delicacies, as are ac
customed elsewhere on such occasions
to tempt the appetite. The “Declara
tion of Independence” was read by a
yonng gentleman from Florida, who is
spending the summer in these cool re
treats from his Southern summer disa
greeabilities. Fred was then called on
good style, ypu may depend. Then the
tables, which Virgil would say were
groaning beneath their load, were par
tially lightened—toasts being drank and
huzzas being re-echoed from surround
ing eraiaffrnees. We then listened to
appropriate speeches from Mr. H., *
Edited by W. H WOOD and Motto—' “Freedom is t!»e only safeguard of Government, and Order.and Moderation arc ncccsary to Freedom.*’— MilUn
YOL. I—NO.1 —NO. 28.
Pennsylvanian lawyer, and Mr. S., the
eloquent yonng Floridian—both of whom
impressively referred to the peculiarity
of that celebration—while emotions that
ever swell the American heart on that
consecrated day, were heightened by
the situation and circumstances under
which we had assembled, The great
“Father of Waters,” rolling onward by
our side, was pouring the music in our
ears, that was suggestive of great hopes
for the future. Dark eyes were upon
us—the melancholy dark eyes of the
noble but unhappy race who are fast
passing away. Wrapped in their bright
mantles, decked in their beads and
bracelets, and feathers, they stood
around, some with majestic forms, and
still proud bearing, but the majority in
sluggish attitudes, and with listlessness
of look and manner, as if the past had
for them no charm, a.id the future no
You celebrated the day, Mr. Arthur,
I opine, with different attendencies. —
You witnessed fashion displayed; gai
ties and accomplishments surrounded
you. Rosy childhood and joyousyouth,
fairy forms fashionably attired, and
heauty artfully adorned, smiled and
fluttered a r d deuced before you, while
music, deep and grand, and sol
emn, then anon, light and graceful,
pleased your willing ear. You per
chance listened to a charming orator,
whose studied elegance of expression
and winning gracefulness ol manner,
was a secret wonder to the rapt and at
tentive audience, whose pulses thrilled
to the flow of words that had in them
much of the divine Amid such ex
ternals, your spirit rejoiced in the festal
day, looking back with thankfulness,
looking forward with hopes for our
country’s weal Here, civilization is
but just extending; fashion has not dei
gned to poise on her pictured wing, nor
frivolity learned to evolve her fluctuati
ons manifold. The graces of polished
learning have never succeeded to the
simple teachings cf Nature, and the ad
ornments of wealth have lent no glitter
ing attractiveness. Yet here, rnethinks
in these old groves, these temples with
out "shaft or architrave,” with the un
lettered mysterious Indian, the light
haired sunny Norwegian, the volatile
French, the semicivilized half-breed,
the rough, sun-bronzed, but honest and
laborious of cur own countrymen, with
not a few of the quick-witted from
"swate auld Ireland,” are found sour
ces of enjoyment, and subjects for re
flection, interesting from their novelty
which a city celebration, witli all its
brilliant paraphernalia, could scarcely
afford. Be that as it may, all who were
present at the Watabcelebration, seem
ed much to enjoy the day. I, for one,
returned to my quiet home much ex
hilarated, and with kindly feelings for
all participants in the pleasures of the
gala-day, particularly for our kind host
and hostess, whose unusually liberal
hospitality we had enjoyed. I should
before have stated* that an the west side
of the river from Watab, is the present
home of the VVinnebagoes, some 2000
in number,from whom some chosen ones
saluted the pleasureseekers in real arti
stical style.
Gillimene St Ark
She was the dearest friend of our
girlish schooldays. We had each come
from distant towns, in opposite portions
of the State, and were strangers in a
new and strange school. We occupied
the same desk. By chance, I took up
her French Grammar, when the name
i;pon the fly-leaf riveted my attention.—
It was the name of a dear friend and
classmate of my brother —and was as
familiar to me as my own. Pointing to
it eagerly, I said, “Is he any relative of
yours?” “My brother,” was the reply.
I mentioned my own brother s name,
immediately her eye brightened. VVe
clasped eaeh other’s hands, and were
more than sisteis trom that moment.
Morning and night our walks were tak
en together and alone. We were sep
arate and apart from the rest of tho
school. Our studies were the same. —
Our study-place, in pleasant weather,
was away in a back lot, belonging to the
boarding house, up in an immense tree,
in which we had coaxed one of the pu-
pils, Charlie D., to arrange a nice scat,
and a sort of ladder leading thereto. —
Apple trees stood about, from which.we
were wont to gather pockets full before
ascending our serial habitation, i here
we used to weave the wildest dreams
and build air castles most fantastic,
grand and impossibly picturesque. W e
solemnly promised, with schoolgirl
faith and earnestness, that no “lord of
creation” should ever win us, one from
the other; that we would live together
and alone in some far away sunny land,
in latly or Switzerland ;that ourtower-ed
verandeh-cd, and vine-covered cottage
should nestle in the loveliest nook, and
should overlook a river the most beau
tiful, and a landscape most charminglv
magnificent- Our Library, comprising
authors of every tongue and age and
nation, was to be perched up in trees,
(don’t ridicule us—wo were only school
girls,) of which a goodly number ol
very grand ones was to surround our
house—in which, some branches being
lopped, wc were to have miniature pal
aces constructed, with fairy-like de
signs. And a hundred just such castles
we built. O, the days of long ago !
O, Gillimenc St. Ark !
She was the only daughter of a prom
inent lawyer of our State, and the pot of
five loving brothers. She was a beau
tiful, brilliant girl. Her hair was of a
dark-brown, worn in cuiis; eyes dark
hazle, large and lull; more of a brun
ette than a blonde, with always a flush
upon either cheek. She had a pretty,
sweet mouth, and a delicately rounded
chin. She had a warm, loving heart,
and generous nature. Yet there was
in her very look manner, and carriage,
o pride that was innate, and to herself
unconscious. Full of romance, enthu
siasm,originality, odd sayings and quaint
conceits, she was a most entertaining
companion, and the most faithful of
And now, gentle reader of some of
the letters efGillimenc, you know some
thing of the author. To give her life
history would require a volume.
For the New Era.
Methonght I had been idle all the day,—
The plow was standing on the furrowed ground.
The fickle hanging where the shief war bound;
While listlerr, flashing in the rummer ray,
Soft-tempered by o’er-reselling boughs that hung
In fragrant tassels, where the violet rprnng,
The daylight’s golden sands had run away:
B t now, with joy I see, in aftertime,
That much was won in that unnoted hour;
The treagtnes of the world ot thought,and power;
The chastened beauty of the true sublime,
The ceaseless plodding worldling never finds,
For only in a tranquil moment hinds
The spell that wakes the minstrel’s mystic chime
Little Prairie Ronde, Mich.
Written for the New Era.
Reminiscences of Missionary
Life in the Northwest.
No. 10.
Another article of food much used at
one season of the year, and highly
prized by the Ojibwas, is maple sugar.
The sugar maple is found extensively
through all parts of their country. —
From this they manufacture large quan
tities of sugar during the early spring. 5
Their mode of manufacturing it may not '
be unworthy of notice. They first re- 1
move their families into the forest where
they are to operate, and build a large
wigwam near the centre of their sugar
bush. For vessels in which to catch
the sap as it runs from the trees, they
use pieces of white birch bark, twenty
inches or two feet square, which arG so
gathered and folded at the ends and
fastened with a bark string, that they
form a kind of dish which will hold
from two to four quarts. An incision is
then made in the tree a foot or two from
the ground, with an axe. Below this
incision a cut is made by a single blow
of an axe, in an upward direction. —
Into this the end of a chip is inserted
which serves as a spout to convey the
sap from the tree in the hark dish. It
is then gathered, in bark pails, and con
veyed to the wigwam, where it is boiled
in brass and tin kettles. The fire is
kindled in the centre of the wigwam
which is usually oblong in form, by first
laying on the ground two logs, between
which light wood is kept burning. The
kellies £arc arranged over this fire in
two rows, from six to tin in each row,
hung on poles which rest on posts set
at each end of the fire. They use ket-
tles of various sizes, from those con-
taining six quarts to twenty gallons.—
These kettles thev keep constantly
replenishing ns their contents evaporate
over the fire. When the liquid is boiled
down to a thick sirup, it is strained
through a flannel, and allowed to stand
and cool. Alter it has >tood a suf
ficient time for the sediment to settle to
the bottom, it is taken, a small quantity
at a time, and boiled over a slow fire
until it reaches the point of graining,
which is ascertained by very careful in
spection. The kettle is tlion removed
from the fire, and thi sugar stirrid by
band, very rapidly, with a kind of p id-
dle as it cools. By this process the su-
gar becomes perfectly grained aud dry,
and as soft and light as the best kinds
of the southern brown, sugar, and some-
times, when manufactured with care, is
as white nearly as the crushed sngars of
market. It is then put into bark boxes,
packed tight, and covere; over the top
with a piece of bark sewed on with a
bark string
They manifest much ingenuity in the !
process of sugar making- The barks
for catching the sap are very rudely
made. But their bark pails, and boxes j
for preserving their sugar, are con-;
structed with much skill, and frequent
ly with much taste The bark of the
white birch is very serviceable to them
in a great variety of ways. They make
their canoes ofh, and without it would
hardly be able to make any craft in
which to navigate their lakes. It seems
indi-pensible in making sugar. At least
they could find no other material which
they could use to so good advantage in
various parts ot the process. It forms
the covering of their lodges, and it is
not unfrequently converted into house
hold utensils.
A single family of the more industrious
class will not unfreqnently have out from
one thousand to two thousand barks in a
season, for catching sap. Some fami
lies make from four hundred to a thous
and pounds 'of sugar in a season, be
sides what they consume dui ing the time
of making. I have never seen maple
sugar manufactured by our white peo
ple so fine flavored and so beautiful in
appearance, as is made by the best
manufacturers of the article in the Indi-
an country. It is to soma extent an ar
ticle of commerce with them They ex
change it with Hheir traders for goods
and provisions.
It will be easily perceived that the
dependence of the Indian for a regular
and sufficient supply of food is very pre
carious. “They have neither store
house nor barn,” and provide for the fu-
me scarcely more than “the birds of
the air.” It would be difficult for them,
were they disposed,to provide much of a
stock beforehand, in their present mode
of life. Meat and fish, which constitute
the largest part of their diet, they have
no means long to preserve in a state fit
for use. In the winter season they
mi (, ht preserve them, but in the summer
they could not. Small quantities are
sometimes smoked and dried, but it soon
becomes worthless They are without
the means of preserving fish and meat
with salt.
But the chief difficulty is, that they
are improvident and idle. Their tho ts
seldom seem to extend to the future.
To obtain a supply for the present mo
ment is all they concern themselves
about. They are not troubled about
the storm till it comes,and content them
selves to “let the morrow care for the
things of itself.” But the storm often
does come. They cock tneir last mor
sel at night, and depend on their net or
spear for the next day’s supply. But
the winds blow and the storm sweeps
over the lake. The waters are agitated,
they cannot embark their canoes, they
cannot visit their nets. The storm lasts
for days. What shall they do ? They
have nothing with which to satisfy hun
ger, and must suffer till the storm ceas
es. Or, the usual supply of provisions
at a particular place or season fhile from
some unforeseen cause. They are be-
yond- the reach of a supply from
, ItSh-. /8S» . if We Live a large assortment of new and Type
| | , t l of the best job work in the State, and at low prices.
! P»it.t. Hi aps, Posters, Blabks*
MINNIE MARY LEE. ?*<»■» »*«■«. circular*.
_ Istitatiobs, Labels, Etc.
__ And every other description of printing exced
AVI? nnl TAD A YF AD I ' V| ‘dii*oik, done neatly and promptly at this office.
UilJj iJIJLLfI.II fl. Iliiils Bst LSs of evrry description printei to order.
sources*. They must suffer until relief he way love you, tendely, for his own
come from some quarter, ur if it does satisfaction; but letting no inan whisper
, •* ‘ i r • . another’s trouble in his car, lest he
nol ccmctbcjf perfi>K Many instances f|od w , nic< ., } . baU „ c , d , huughtll
of suffering !rom this source are Felt ad Wf I C disturbed, and left the plenitude
overtnuir country every year. Tory of his interior enjoyment should be di
are less frequent now than thirty years!minished. He could not endure to hntra
ago,. because there are more white pro- 1 a ”) tl, ' u £ l, ' oul> * e *''rn. f ll
r . . . , ... :well have been a spider, and I.ved upon
pie, missionsi ic ? ai d others, tn ‘her. go fap ag h , irnnni|>v js concern .
country, than there were then, ficm' t .j
whom they can get something in times 1 O, how diiVr«*nt the loyal ty of tlie Di
of extremitv. i never witnessed a cnsc'ine nature, the loyalty oi Christ s life;
of actual starvation. hot the.e wcre ;,1 ? w differently the ideal of character
, • given! lie that would be prince, let
such cases m some parts of t!ie.rcmm- j; im gn down the boltoni of life,
try nearly every winter. They suffei , n d be familiar with it,—he that would
much more from wai t of food in winter be the chief, let him be the servant.—
than in summer, fn the v.inter the rn,c service, the unselfish service, of m
, , , i i .1 r true l"ve in man or angels or God, is
streams and lakes are erbsed, the ground . ~ , , f. , , ’ r ,
° the idea and giorv of character.— lf.
is covered deeply with snow, the wild jj-. f} cC( f ur
fowl have fled to ‘‘the sunny South,” , ~ 7- .1 • e
• \ ’ In oiif accmint of the obsequies of
and the severity of their northern winter Kossuth’s si.-ter, Madarn Zulavasky,
rende rs it much more laborious and dif- met lion was made of an address deliv
ficult to hunt and fish. at the grave in Hungarian by Col.
When they have an abundant supply' V. bo,,r ,v.'i e i 0, , e “ tran * ,aliou
, „ , , • .. , , , : of it:—l. Tnbunt.
of food they surfeit and least their ~ _
MyCeheaviid Friends: While far
friends till it is all consumed or wasted, y M ilcmp> on the bariks of tlie gray
before they enquire liovv they are to nb- Danube, and over the length and breadth
tain anv more. Present gratification is of our Hungarian fatherland, a great
the sum of all their aspirations. It is all I whom we have all known, ad
, , . . . ~, mired, and loved, has been borne to the
the happiness they know. I o obtain a Rrave by . inimons . and whi j e (he burn
bare supply for their natural wants with jug tears of a people proud of its un
the least possible off it on their part stained nationality of fifteen hundred
and to gratify their animal appetites, f caia are stdl swelling the sea of uni
. . ....... , . , veis.tl beravcinent, we, the banished,
constitutes the principal object for which . , .
1 1 J hum Uss sins of cur suffering country
they seem to live. far from the lolly Carpathians, lieie in
the New World, scattered and isolated,
give baek with profound sorrow a noble
liungaiiiin lady to the eaith.
A lady of cvemplnry virtue and rare
patriotism, whose lieait was so entirely
given to her country that nftei eight
years of suffering and exile she olFered
liei three brave eldest sons, the support
and solace of herlife, u sacrifice for the
liberation down-trodden Hungary.
Her whole life was an exalted exam
ple lioiv lo lore one's futlurland. And
that I lungary, engraven on her heart,
will still be Jfct ! Hut she will no more
behold it; her noble spirit has departed;
her ashes have been mingled with a
foreign earth.
Count Stephen Szerhcnyi suffered
for his country in the gloomy loneli
ness of Doebling; the noble Amelia
Zulavszky Kossuth suffered her martyr
dom here in exile. But those sufferings
1 are over. She has passed where sorrow
is uukn wp, and by her lofty soul, hov
c.ing over us, we vow;
Tapping at the window,
Peeping o’er the blind;—
’Tis really most surprising,
lie never learns to mind t
’Twin only yester evening,
As in the dark we sal.
My mother asked me, sharply
“Pray, Mary, who is that?”
Who’s ilia f Indeed/—yoo’re teriain
How mnch she made mo start.
Men seem to lose their wisdom
Whene’er they lose heir heart.
Yes; there lie is—l see him!
The lamp his 'shadow throws
Across the curtained window
lie’s stepping on his toes/
He’ll never think of tapping,
Or making any din;
A knock though even the lightest,
Is worse than looking in'
Tap.' tap.'—Would nnr think it?
He never learns to mind.
’Ti* surely most surprising—
lie thinks my mother blind.
A locomotive recently ran away on
the Wc=t Cornwall line, in England.—
The throttlevalve having been inadvert
ently open, and a fire kindled in tho
furnace, the attendant went away for a
few moments; on his return it had left
town, and only ran out of breath at a
station some sixteen miles distant, hav
ing rushed dow n some steep inclines,and
over sharp curves, at the rate of sixty
Look in contrast with this idea of miles an hour. It tore up and smashed
character that we see growing up in through a large number of gates, but
civilized life, what we call cultured so- w ith this exception did no damage what
ciety A susceptiblity of character, a ever,and wasjquietly led back to its stall
certain dignity, upon which men stand, without having been made permanently
a certain reserve, a certainfear of con-, v *cious by itstricks, in which particular
tact with the world, a certain sense of/' fT^vir^or.?
degradation if they come out of their pe'/ nen ° 8 68 ,■ .
culiar sphere, an uniwllingness to let. It was the habit of Lord Eldon, when
men come near them—a character: Attorney- General, to close his speecb
whish consistsin avoiding pain and suf es with some remarks jnstifying his own
fering. Of some of the most memora- character. At the trial of Horne Tooko
ble men of literature and art, it is said speaking of his own reputation, he said:
that they made it a part of their relig- —“lt is the little inheritance I have |o
ion, never to have a word spoken in the.r leave to my children, and by God a help
presence that would cause any suffer- I will leave m unimpaired. Here he
! n rr Thev would not allow any one to shed tears—and, to the asionislimeei
EfuhemmT .Tetalh of a friend. They Of thoac preen,, MM* .h.W-n
u/nuia not heir of death. What loyal- General, began to weep. ju*t iook
Tv of manhood that man mas. ha.c had, at Milford.” ..id . by.taodor to Horn.
:L“*e immense power which is Took.. “What *.-«*>./•
committed to him, and is carrying it for? - Tooke r «P i,e ?*
rrXhh him .11 th. .imo, «o that h. lo think *h... I.UI. mh.mtnne.
may best ho.band it for him.e!f, ao that am like y to got.
sclcc f c U .
Tho Village Courtship
’Tis plain I mu«t go to him;
It.s no uso now to cough,—
I’ll ope the door just softly,
If but to send him off/
’Tis well if from the door-step
He be not shortly hurl’d
On, m<tn,there ne’er was trouble,
Till he came in the world!
Tapping at the window ,
And peeping o’er the blind;
Ob, man/ but you’re a trouble
And that we maidens find/
A Tribute.
And he is gone/—the little boy
Of flaxen focksand bright-blue eye;
His parents’* fondest hope and joy;
Thay early saw him droop and die/
So sweet, so winsome were his ways,
A charm was round his presence flung;
All radiant wera his few glad day*—
The gentle boy that died sc young'
His timid nature could not brook
The rougher sports of ruder boys;
He windest haunts of mirth forsook
And sought in quiet scenes his joys,
Oh/long will be the night of grief
To many a heart with anguish rung
For him whose days were all too brief—
The gentle boy that died »<* young.
J Oh Fatherland! Yours are ail the
pulsations of our hearts! Our devou
test prayers, our keenest anxieties, our
profoundest feelings are vours ! Wo
man’s entreaties, man’s strong will and
arm, our faith, our hope, our aspirations
all arc yours. O Fatherland! Beloved
land of our birth, whom the dead, we
are mourning now, in life so cherished!
Almighty Father! hear our fervent
prayer, and take under your projection
the four brave sons of the deceased,
Rmile. Ladidas, Kasimir, and Zigis
-1 round; console her or ly surviving sister,
here overwhelmed with sorrow, her two
neices, and all others relatives and
fr iends and beyond the sens, console
and comfort our noble Chief nnd wise
leader, Louis Kossuth, stricken by this
grief amid his arduous labors for his
country’s holy cause; support him in
his lofty mission, and vouchsafe eternal
peace to our illustrious dead,by blessing
their suffering country with a happy
•Tin.* allusion is to Count Steplisn Szechenyi,
for wtv m funeral services—Requiems—were
held throughout all Hungary. lie was much de

xml | txt