Chapter I: Want to Go Home, 364 (9)

“Nothing better _can_ be wished for it,” rejoined William. “Had I not been deeply impressed with the conviction that the institutions, and manners, and consequent welfare of states, depend greatly on the character of first settlers, I should never have encouraged emigration from the old Commonwealth by my own example.”

“But the climate and scenery of Italy would be an improvement to Massachusetts,” said John, “if we could have it without losing the active soul and strong muscle of New England.”

“That is it exactly, John,” rejoined Katie. “We will have it a young New England; but it shall be under sunny skies, with Italian dress.”

Several days passed before the emigrants began to be much aware of the discomforts and fatigue of a long journey. The babies crowed, and seemed to think the huge machine was invented expressly to furnish them with a pleasanter motion than cradle or go-cart; while maturer minds found amusement in observing the passengers that came and went, and pleasure in the varying scenery, as they were whirled along, past the thriving farms of New York, the tall forests of Canada, and the flower-dappled prairies of Illinois. But after a while, even the strongest became aware of aching bones, and the most active minds grew drowsy. The excessive weariness of the last days no pen can adequately describe. The continuous motion of the cars, without change of posture; the disturbed night on board steamboats full of crying children; the slow floating over Missouri waters, now wheeling round to avoid a snag, now motionless for hours on a sand-bar, waiting for the drifting tide, while twilight settles darkly down over uninhabited forests, stretching away in the dim distance. The hurry and scramble of arriving at strange places, farther and farther away from home, and always with a dreary feeling at their hearts that no home awaited them.

“If I could only make it seem as if we were going anywhere, I don’t think I should feel so tired,” said Alice, with a kind of weary bewilderment in the expression of her sweet countenance.

Worn out as Katie was, she summoned a cheerful smile, and replied, “Keep up a brave heart, Alice, dear. Those who are going nowhere are pretty sure to arrive.”

After eight days’ travel, they arrived at Kansas City, in Missouri. There they bade adieu to cars and steamboats, and entered the Indian Territory, closely stowed away in great wagons, covered with sail-cloth, and furnished with rough boards for seats. In some places the road swept along in graceful curves, through miles of smooth open prairie, belted with noble trees, and sprinkled with wild flowers, as copiously as rain-drops from a summer shower. The charming novelty of the scene was greeted with a child-like outburst of delight from all the weary party. Even the quiet, home-loving Alice, clapped her hands, and exclaimed, “How beautiful!” without adding with a sigh, “But it isn’t like dear New England.”

William smiled affectionately at her enthusiastic surprise, and said, “Virtuous and industrious people can build up happy homes in such solitudes as these, dear Alice.”

Anon, they descended into deep ravines, which jolted the rough boards, and knocked their heads together. Through these steep passes the wagons were jerked by patient mules, till they were brought into streams whose uncertain depths made the women and children scream; or into creeks sparkling in the sunshine, whose shallow waters covered holes, easier to pass by leaving the wagons, and jumping from stone to stone. Then scrambling up another steep bank, they found marks of wheels to indicate a road. They packed themselves into the huge wagons again, with their baskets and babies, bread and cheese, and went tumbling along with bonnets knocked into cocked-hats, and hats that had lost all appearance of being wide-awake. Katie was conjecturing, now and then, how many bowls and plates would arrive in Kansas unbroken; while Alice had a foggy idea that they were going nowhere; but there was a rainbow across the fog, because William was going there, too.

Tired out in mind and body, they came at last to the river Wakarusa, which they crossed slowly at the fording-place, and rode up a bank that seemed steep enough to set the wagons on end. This brought them into fields of grass, dotted here and there with small cabins. To New England eyes it presented little resemblance to a village; but it was called a town, and bore the honoured name of Franklin. A few miles to the left, smoothly rounded hills rose on the horizon, terrace-like, one behind the other. Between those beautiful hills and the thickly-wooded banks of the river, was the infant town of Lawrence, the destined capital of Free Kansas.

Here the travellers rested to greet old friends, who had preceded them, and to form plans for the future. They all agreed that a more beautiful nestling place for a village had rarely been seen; and really, considering it was little more than eight months old, it had quite a grown-up look. There were several neat houses, and many cabins, the appearance of which indicated industrious inmates, who would rapidly increase their comforts, and enlarge their borders. The bright river made a graceful curve, fringed with trees, which the skill of man could not have arranged so tastefully as nature had done. Hills rose to the horizon in gradually ascending series, their verdant slopes lighted up with golden sunshine. One of grander proportions than the others, called Blue Mound, was immediately singled out by Mr. Bradford as the site of a future Free State University; and his equally active-minded wife forthwith matured the plan, by proposing that William Bruce should be its first president, and her baby become a professor of some ’ology or other.

“I am afraid we can’t wait long enough for _him_,” replied her husband, smiling. “We shall have to choose _you_ for a professor, Kate; I, for one, will give you my vote.”

The rough hands of the settlers, and their coarse garments, soiled with prairie mud, were offensive to Kate’s ideas of neatness, and still more so to the delicate tastes of Alice. But on Sundays, when they were dressed, in their best, and met together to read and sing, they looked like quite different people. As they became more acquainted, it was an agreeable surprise to find so large a proportion of them intelligent and well educated. With a pervading character of sobriety, industry and enterprise, they seemed to require nothing but time, and a small allowance of that, to build up thriving towns and form a prosperous state. Certainly, the manner of living was rude, for many of them ate their dinner from boards laid across the tops of barrels. The labour also was hard, for there was much to do, and few to do it; and, as yet, wells were not dug, or machinery introduced. But where all worked, no one felt his dignity lessened by toil. They had the most essential element of a prosperous state; the respectability of labour. The next most important element they also had; for they placed a high value on education, and were willing to sacrifice much to secure it for their children. The absence of conventional forms, and the constant exercise of ingenuity, demanded by the inconveniences and emergencies of a settler’s life, have a wonderful effect in producing buoyancy and energy of character. The tendency to hope for every thing, and the will to do every thing desirable to be done, were so contagious, that Alice was surprised to discover the amount of her hitherto undeveloped capabilities.

There was a cabin for sale, built by one of the earliest settlers, who had died of fever. Its picturesque situation, on a rising ground overlooking the river, was attractive to Mr. Bradford and his wife, and it became their home. It consisted of one long room with a loft above, from which it was separated by a floor of loosely-laid boards. The long room was converted into two, by a cotton curtain running on iron rings; and the loft was divided into two apartments in the same manner. When these arrangements were completed, it afforded a temporary shelter for the two families of Katie and Alice, including eight persons. In the absence of closets, it was necessary to hang all sorts of articles from the boards above. A dried salt fish was near neighbour to a very pretty work-basket, and a bag of potatoes was suspended between a new quilt and a handsome carpet-bag.

“I hope we shall soon be able to stow the salt fish and potatoes away somewhere,” said Alice.

“Oh, never mind!” replied Katie, laughing. “If Hans Christian Andersen would only come this way, he would make a fine story about the salt fish falling in love with the pretty basket, and becoming thinner every day, because his genteel neighbour preferred the carpet-bag, and took no pains to conceal her disgust of his vulgar appearance and disagreeable breath. _She_ listen to the vows of a salt fish? Not she! Did’nt he know that her handsome relative, the carpet-bag, from Brussels, had done as good as make proposals to her? Then the poor fish would be stimulated to hunt up a pedigree. He might claim to have descended from Jonah’s whale. He, on his part, might feel his dignity offended by the neighbourhood of dirty potatoes. And the potatoes, like sturdy republicans, might tell him they did not care a darn for his pedigree. They should like to know whether he could _grow_; if he could’nt, he was an old fogy, and the less he said the better; for he was among folks that believed in growing, and did’nt believe in any thing else.” Alice laughed at her conceits, and said it was a blessing to have such a lively companion in a lonesome place.

As soon as the first hurry was over, the men of the family converted packing-boxes into shelves for books and utensils, and made divers grotesque-looking stools, with cotton cloth and unpeeled boughs of wood, after the fashion of portable garden-chairs. There was talk of a table to be hewn from a black walnut tree; but as yet the tree was growing, and boards on barrel-tops must answer meanwhile. The salt-cellars were broken when the wagons were pitching down some of the ravines; but the shell of a turtle, which Kate’s brother Thomas had brought among his traps, made a tolerable substitute. The women missed the smooth, white table-cloths, and the orderly arrangement of dishes, to which they had been accustomed; but they agreed with the men, that no food had ever tasted so good as the corn-cakes, venison, and wild game cooked in that humble cabin, where they mutually served each other in love. Then the unpacking of the deep trunks and boxes, bringing to light memorials of old places and dear friends, was a pleasure which only the far-off emigrant from home may realize. Some mutual secrets had been kept, which made little sunny ripples of surprise in their quiet stream of life. Alice’s father and mother had packed their photograph likenesses in Katie’s trunk, with a charge that they should not be opened till they were settled in their new home. Katie had pressed mosses and ferns from the old well near Uncle May’s garden-gate. They were twined with pendant blossoms from the old elm, and woven into a garland round the words, “From the well, whose waters Katie and Allie drank in childhood, and from the old elm-tree from whose boughs they used to swing.” She had framed it neatly with cones, gathered in a pine grove, where they had walked together many an hour. These souvenirs of the dear old home so stirred the deep fountains of feeling in her cousin’s soul, that she burst into tears. But Katie soon made her laugh, by exhibiting a crockery bear, which little Georgy had packed among the things, to remind them of the living bear he expected to receive from Kansas.

Alice said she had a little secret too. She retreated to her division of the room, and brought forth a pencil-drawing of the house where Katie was born, and where her mother had always lived; and across the green lane was Uncle May’s house, with the old well shaded by the elm. She had a talent for drawing, and the dear familiar scene was brought faithfully before the eye, though a little idealized by the softness of the shading.

“Dear me!” exclaimed the vivacious Katie. “How can I put it where I can see it often, yet contrive to keep it free from smoke and dust?” She gave a forlorn kind of glance at the unplastered walls, through chinks of which glimpses of the sky were visible. The fact was, neither they nor their friends had been aware of the rough conditions of a settler’s life; and the cousins had brought with them many pretty little keepsakes, which they could find no places for. But it was a rule with them to utter no complaints, to add to the weight of cares already resting on their noble husbands. So the forlorn look quickly gave place to a smile, as Kate kissed her cousin, and said, “I’ll tell you what I will do, Allie dear. I will keep it in my heart.”

“It is a large place, and blesses all it keeps. That I can bear witness to,” said John. * * * *

There was need that the women of Kansas should overlook their own inconveniences, and be silent about their own sufferings; for a thunder-cloud was gathering over the heads of the emigrants, and every week it grew blacker and blacker. It needed less quickness of observation than Katie possessed, to perceive, almost immediately after their arrival, that they were surrounded by dangerous enemies.

Her husband, knowing the reliable strength of her character, did not hesitate to confide to her his anxieties and fears for Kansas. But, as far as possible, they kept danger out of sight in their conversations with Alice. They had seen proof enough that she was strong in self-sacrifice, with abundant fortitude to endure for those she loved; but they knew that the life-blood of her soul was in her affections, and that perils in her husband’s path would undermine the strength she needed for her own. Her busy hands were almost entirely employed with in-door occupations; sewing and mending for the whole family, keeping the rooms tidy, and assisting about the daily cooking. If it was necessary to purchase a pail, or pan, or any other household convenience, it was Katie who sallied forth into Massachusetts street to examine such articles as were for sale at the little shanty shops. If water was wanted, when the men were absent, she put on her deep cape-bonnet, and took the pail to the nearest spring, nearly a quarter of a mile distant; for there was so much work pressing to be done in Lawrence, that as yet there had been no time found to construct wells; and the water of the river became shallow and turbid under the summer sun. These excursions were at first amusing from their novelty, and she came home with a lively account of odd-looking Missouri cattle-drovers, and Indian squaws, with bags full of papooses strapped to their shoulders. But gradually the tone of merriment subsided; and when she had occasion to go into the street, she usually returned silent and thoughtful. Fierce-looking Missourians, from the neighbouring border, scowled at her as she passed, and took pleasure in making their horses rear and plunge across her path. In the little shops she often found more or less of these ruffians, half-tipsy, with hair unkempt, and beards like cotton-cards, squirting tobacco-juice in every direction, and interlarding their conversation with oaths and curses. Every one that entered was hailed with the interrogatory, “Stranger, whar ar yer from?” If their answer indicated any place north of the Ohio, and east of the Mississippi, the response was, “Damn yer, holler-hearted Yankees! What business have you in these diggens? You’d better clar out, I tell yer.”

On one of these occasions, a dirty drunken fellow said to Kate, “They tell me you are an all-fired smart woman. Are you pro-slave? or do you go in for the abolitionists?”

Concealing the disgust she felt, she quietly replied, “I wish to see Kansas a Free State, because I have her prosperity at heart.”

“Damn yer imperdence!” exclaimed the brute. “I should like to see you chained up with one of our niggers. I’ll be cussed if I would’nt help to do it.” And he finished by stooping down and squirting a quantity of tobacco-juice into her face.

There was another Missourian in the shop, a tall burly looking cattle drover, with a long whip in his hand. He seized the other roughly by the arm, saying, “I tell you what, my boy, that’s puttin it on a little _too_ thick. I’m pro-slave. If you’re for a far fight with the Yankees, Tom Thorpe’s the man for yer work. But I’m down on all sich fixens. Let the woman alone!”

The rowdy drew his bowie-knife, with a volley of oaths, and Katie darted from the shop, leaving her purchases uncompleted. When she returned, she found her mother busy about dinner, and Alice sitting at the window, making a coarse frock. She raised her head and smiled, when her cousin entered, but immediately looked out toward Mount Oread. When she first saw that verdant slope, she had fallen in love with its beauty; then she had been attracted by the classic name, conferred on it by a scholar among the emigrants. There was something romantic in thus transporting the Mountain Spirits of ancient Greece into the loveliest portions of this new Western World. William often quoted Leigh Hunt’s verses, about

“The Oreads, that frequent the lifted mountains;
* * * * * * * and o’er deep ravines
Sit listening to the talking streams below.”

Then Governor Robinson’s house, on the brow of the hill, was a pleasant object in the scenery; for he was a courteous and cultivated man, with a good library, always at their disposal. There was so much quiet gentle strength about him, that his presence seemed to ensure protection. The last and strongest reason why Alice loved Mount Oread was that William had taken land a little beyond it, and there was to be their future home, snug as a bird’s nest, in a “sunny nook of greenery.” He was building a cabin there, and every day she saw him descending toward Lawrence, with the axe on his shoulder; and as he came nearer, she could hear him whistling, “Home, sweet home.” She was watching for him now, and hoping he would return in season for dinner. Therefore she had not noticed the flurried manner with which Kate hastened to wash her face, and wipe the tobacco stains from her bonnet. While she was thus employed, the old lady said to her youngest daughter, “Flora, go and call John and Thomas from the field. Dinner is nearly ready.”

“No, mother! No!” exclaimed Katie. “Never send _her_ out! _Never!_” Perceiving that her quick emphatic manner had arrested the attention of all the inmates of her dwelling, she added in a lower tone, “I will go, myself.”

But her words had aroused a train of thoughts, which was becoming more and more familiar to Alice. The men in the vicinity often came to ask council of Mr. Bradford and Mr. Bruce; and of course their talk was mainly concerning the neighbouring state of Missouri. She heard them tell how ruffians and rowdies came over the border with bowie-knives and pistols to drive the free citizens of Kansas away from the polls; to deprive them of liberty to make their own laws, and compel them to be governed by the code of Missouri, which in many ways violated their moral sense. She heard them say that spies from Missouri were in every neighbourhood, watching those emigrants who dared to say any thing in favour of having the soil of Kansas free. Why was Katie so flushed and flurried? Was the danger approaching nearer than she was aware of? She turned anxiously toward Mount Oread, and longed for a sight of William. What if he should not return till after night-fall? He, whose honest mouth would never utter a word that was false to freedom, whatever might be his personal risk? Unable to keep back the crowding tears, she slipped behind the cotton curtain that screened their sleeping apartment, and kneeling beside their rude couch, she prayed earnestly to God to protect her husband.

William had not arrived when they sat down to dine, and his wife made various pretences for rising to remove a plate, or bring a cup of water; but in reality to look out upon Mount Oread. At last, she heard his voice, and rushed out to meet him, with an outburst of emotion that surprised them all. John shook his head mournfully, and sighed as he said, “Poor Alice! How she idolizes him!”

Katie had the discretion not to mention her rencontre with the Border Ruffian to any but her husband, who grew red in the face and clenched his fist, while he listened, but immediately subsided into a calmer mood, and said, “We must be careful never to lose sight of the best interests of Kansas, in our resentment at the wrongs and insults we are continually receiving. We will give these lawless rascals no excuse for molesting us, and wait with patience for the American government to protect its unoffending citizens.”

On the afternoon of the same day, a gawky lad, with a “long nine” in his mouth, and hands in his trowsers pockets, came to the door, saying, “The ole woman’s tuk wi’ fits almighty strong; and the ole man wants you to cum, and bring along some o’ yer doctor’s stuff. He’s heern tell that yer death on fits.”

Mrs. Bradford had become so accustomed to the South-Western lingo, that she understood “the ole man” to be the lad’s father. She knew very well that he was a Missouri spy, of the lowest order, an accomplice in many villainous proceedings against the free-soil citizens of Kansas. She felt a loathing of the whole family, not unmingled with resentment; but she rose quickly to prepare the medicines; thinking to herself, “What hypocrisy it is for me to profess to be a believer in Christianity, if I cannot cheerfully return good for evil, in such a case as this.” She administered relief to the sufferer, as tenderly as if she had been her own sister; and the poor woman expressed gratitude for it, in her uncouth way. When Kate remarked that they would feel more kindly toward the Yankees, if they knew them better, she replied, “I allers tole my ole man I wished they wouldn’t keep up such a muss. But Lor’, what the use o’ speakin’. It’s jist like spittin’ agin the wind.”

That night, Mr. Bradford’s horse and saddle were stolen. They never knew by whom; but they were afterward seen in Missouri.

In the midst of discouragements and dangers, the brave band of settlers went on with their work. Better stores were erected, and, one after another, the temporary cabins gave place to comfortable stone houses.

An Emigrant Aid Society had been formed in the North, whose object it was to assist in the erection of mills, school-houses, and other buildings, for the public benefit. Their motive was partly financial, inasmuch as all such improvements rapidly increased the value of property in Kansas; and they were well aware that the outward prosperity, as well as the moral strength of a state depended greatly upon encouraging emigrants to go from communities where they had been accustomed to free institutions, educational privileges, orderly habits, and salutary laws. Their motives in extending a helping hand to these infant colonies, were both morally good and worldly wise. There was no partiality in their management of affairs. Emigrants from the Southern states shared their benefits equally with those from the North. Settlers were pouring in from all sections of the country; but chiefly from the North and West, because the hardy inhabitants of those states are always ready for enterprise and toil. Many of them had large families of children, and the small half-furnished tavern, called the Cincinnati House, was quite insufficient to afford them shelter while cabins were prepared for them. In the course of their first summer, John Bradford and his band of pilgrims had the satisfaction of seeing a noble stone hotel, of three stories, rise in Massachusetts street, making the place beautiful with its glazed windows, and doors of polished black walnut.

Unfortunately, the only route to Kansas, by rail-road or steamboat, passed through Missouri. Baggage-wagons were continually plundered, and letters broken open and destroyed, by the Border Ruffians. Supplies of provisions, purchased by the settlers, or sent to them by their friends, went to enrich their enemies. Money enclosed in letters met with the same fate. Still the settlers of Kansas pursued a pacific course toward their persecutors. They came from communities where laws were reliable for protection, and, following their old habits, they appealed to the laws; desirous, at all hazards, not to involve the country in civil war. This conscientious patriotism was not appreciated. The banditti on the borders laughed it to scorn; while the slaveholding gentlemen and statesmen, who used them as puppets, to do the disgraceful work they were ashamed to do openly themselves, smiled at the Yankees’ reverence for the Union, and successfully played their old game of practicing on conscientious love of country, in order to tighten the serpent coil of slavery more securely about the neck of freedom. Missourians had voted their own creatures into most of the offices of Kansas. Some of them pitched a tent in that Territory for a while, while others did not even assume the appearance of residing there. From _such_ officers of justice the citizens of Kansas could find no redress for the robberies and wrongs continually inflicted on them, by the band of ruffians commissioned to drive them out of the Territory, by any means that would do it most effectually. Our wrongs from the British government were slight, compared with theirs. Still these Western Colonies refrained from revolution. They sent agents to Washington, with well-attested evidence of their outrageous wrongs. They received fair words, and no relief. Every day it became more evident that the President of the United States was in league with the power that was crushing free Kansas. The Missourians, emboldened by their knowledge of this fact, played their bad game more and more openly. They paid men a dollar a day, with plenty of whiskey, and free passage across the ferries, to go into Kansas and vote down the rights of the citizens. More and more, the conviction grew upon the people of Kansas that they could not trust the government of the United States, and consequently had only their own energies to rely upon. They published a paper called the Herald of Freedom, in which they maintained the right of all American citizens to choose their own magistrates, and make their own laws. They rejected the legislators imposed upon them by the rabble of Missouri, at the point of the bayonet. They declared that a large majority of the settlers were desirous to have Kansas a Free State, and that they would maintain their right to be heard. To this paper, John Bradford and William Bruce were constant contributors, and Kate’s brother, Thomas, was diligent in setting the types. Of course, the family became odious to those who were bent on driving freedom out of Kansas.

A Convention of the free-soil citizens of the Territory was called at Topeka. There were representatives from nearly all sections of the Union. Emigrants from Carolina, Virginia, and Missouri, agreed with emigrants from Ohio and Massachusetts, that the introduction of slavery would prove disastrous to the prosperity of the state. They framed a Constitution for Kansas, and chose legislators. Some required that free coloured people should be excluded from the Territory, as well as slaves. Others deemed that such a regulation would be an infringement upon freedom, and urged that no man could calculate the future bad consequences of introducing one wrong principle into the basis of their government. No one urged this point more strenuously, than did William Bruce, in his mild firm way. But Southern emigrants were opposed to that view of the case, and the Convention, desirous to concede as far as possible, yet unwilling to introduce such a clause into their Constitution, concluded to leave that question to the votes of the people.

It was a trying time for the women in Lawrence. The wisest and bravest men were absent in Topeka, which was twenty-five miles further up the river. The Convention excited great wrath in Missouri. They called _themselves_ lovers of “law and order,” and denounced those as “traitors” who dared to make other laws than those imposed upon them with bowie-knives and revolvers. The wildest stories were circulated. The most moderate of them was a rumour that Mr. Bruce insisted upon having “niggers” become members of the legislature. This they regarded as the greatest monstrosity a republican _could_ be guilty of; for they were blind to the fact that hundreds of coloured slaves could be found, who were more fit for the office, than the white ones they had appointed to rule over Kansas. Insults multiplied, and curses and threats grew louder. Every family in Lawrence went to bed each night with the feeling that they might be murdered before morning.

When the delegates returned, John Bradford thought his wife seemed at least ten years older, than when she came to Kansas, the preceding spring. The baby, who could now toddle alone, had caught the trick of fear, and hid himself, when his father knocked at the fastened door.

William was alarmed to find Alice so thin and pale, and to see her gentle eyes look so large and frightened. He folded her closely in his arms, and as she wept upon his bosom, he said, “O my wife! My loving and generous wife! How I reproach myself for accepting the sacrifice you offered! Yet had I foreseen this state of things, I never would have consented that you should follow me into Kansas.”

“Don’t say that!” she exclaimed nervously. “It will be easier to die with you, than it would have been to live without you. But oh, William, why _need_ they persecute us so? There are thousands of acres of land uncultivated in Missouri. What makes them covet _our_ land?”

“Ah, dearest, it is a complicated question, and you don’t understand it. They care little for the land, except as a means of increasing their political power. They want more Slave States, to be represented by slaveholders in the councils of the Union; and they do _not_ want that any more Free States should come into the Union, to balance their influence. Therefore they are not content with stretching their dominions to the Gulf of Mexico, and seizing Texas. They wish to grasp the Northern Territories also, that they may be secure of keeping the Free States in political subjection. It is a long story, my love. For many years, they have been artfully availing themselves of every means to increase their power. The antagonistic principles of slavery and freedom have come to a death-grapple here in Kansas; and you, my delicate little flower, are here to be trampled, in the struggle.”

Alice sighed, and wished she was more like Kate; for then she would not be such a weight upon his spirits. But he declared that he would not for the world have her in any way different from her own dear self. Then they fell to talking about their future home, which was now in readiness. Two of William’s brothers had arrived with their families. An addition to the cabin had been built for one of them, and the other would live within call. Katie was loth to part from her cousin; but she said they would be far more comfortable in their new quarters, and as for safety, there was safety nowhere; least of all, in Lawrence.

Gradually they fell into a more cheerful strain of conversation. The husbands spoke hopefully, and really felt so; for they had strong faith that their beautiful Kansas would become a free and prosperous state.

Various boxes from Massachusetts, directed to William Bruce, had arrived in Kansas City. Some of them contained comfortables and blankets for the winter, which Mrs. May had prepared for her darling daughter; her “stray lamb in the wilderness,” as she was wont to call her. Could all that mother’s thoughts and feelings have been daguerreotyped on the cloth, while those stitches were taken, it would have been an epic poem of wondrous pathos. What visions of Alice sleeping in her cradle; of her wakening smile; of her soft curls waving in the summer breeze, as she came running with a flower; of her girlish bloom, delicate as the sweet-pea blossom; of her clear melodious voice in the choir at church; of the bashful blushing ways, that betrayed her dawning love for William; of the struggle in her soul, when she must choose between him and her parents; of her parting look, when she turned from the home of her childhood, to follow her husband into the wilderness. In Alice’s soul those stitches, by the old, fond, faithful hand, would also waken a poem of reminiscences. How she longed for those boxes, to see what mother had sent her! Above all, for the letters from dear New England; especially the long letter from mother!

It was agreed that William’s brothers should go with a wagon to bring them. They reached Kansas city in safety, and the boxes were delivered to them. Passing through Franklin, on their return, they found fifty or sixty Missouri ruffians carousing round a rum-shop, built of logs. A man with ragged trowsers and dirty checked shirt, too tipsy to stand alone, was leaning against a corner of the shop, scraping a fiddle, while his comrades sung:

“We’ve camped in the wilderness,
For a few days, for a few days;
And then we’re going home,
We’ve a right up yonder.
We’ll vote, and shoot the Yankees,
For a few days, for a few days;
And then we’re going home,
We’ve a right up yonder.”

As soon as this drunken crew espied the baggage-wagon, wending its way toward Kansas, they set up a frightful yell, and, making a rush at the horses, called out, “Hallo, stranger! whar are you going? and what are you toting?”

“To Lawrence, with a load of household goods,” they replied.

“That’s a damned nest of Yankee abolitionists!” cried one.

“We’re gwine to wipe it out,” shouted another.

“The goods must be overhauled, boys!” bawled a third.

It was vain to remonstrate, and useless to fight against such desperate odds. They unloaded the wagons, tore open the boxes, and pulled out the home treasures, which would have been so precious to Alice. The young men pleaded hard for the letters; but the mob said they must carry them to the Governor, to see if there was treason in them.

“The Governor shall be informed of this, and if there’s justice to be obtained in the land, we’ll have it,” said the brothers.

“Shut up, you damned rascals!” shouted the rabble. “ Git into yer waggin and be off, or we’ll stop yer jawing!”

Poor Alice! The blessed words, warm from her mother’s heart, that would have poured such balm into her own, would be used to light the pipes of Missouri ruffians. The quilts, so neatly made by those dear old hands, would be spread on muddy floors for drunken revels. It was hard to bear; but she knew this was only one of a thousand wrongs, and she said, “I will never murmur while my dear good William is spared to me.”

From the time of her betrothal, her loving heart had dreamed of a neat little wedded home, cozy and comfortable, with a few simple adornments of pictures and vases. The loosely-built cabins of Kansas, with their rough “cotton-board” floors, brown with prairie mud, had driven away the illusion; but still it hovered there over Mount Oread, and the Mountain Spirits seemed to sing a prophetic song of love and peace in a sunny future. She found the new home provided with more conveniences than the one she had left; for William, in the midst of all his cares, never forgot her, and snatched an hour, whenever he could, to work for her comfort.

It was the morning of a sunny day when they entered their new abode, and all things looked neat and cheerful. William, who was reverential by temperament, viewed all the common duties and affairs of life in a religious light. They stood for a moment, hand in hand, gazing at the humble little cabin, with moistened eyes. Then he removed his hat, and looking earnestly to heaven, he threw water on the roof, saying, “I baptize thee the Freeman’s Home. May the blessing of God descend upon thee!” There was a saddened pleasure in thus consecrating their encampment in the wilderness.

In Lawrence, darker, and darker yet, the storm was lowering. Autumn was coming on with heavy dews, and cold winds from the mountains swept across the open prairie, whistling through the loopholes of the fragile cabins, as they went. The dampness and the chill brought with them that dreadful demon of the settler’s life, fever and ague. The arms of strong men were palsied by it, and the little children looked like blossoms blighted by a sudden frost. The active, generous-hearted Katie found time to run hither and thither with gruel and medicine, though her own little one was shivering, as if his joints would fall asunder. Many a murmured blessing followed her footsteps from cabin to cabin, and many a grateful tear fell on her hand, from home-sick souls, sorrowful, even unto death. In the midst of this calamity, rumours of invasion by the Missourians increased daily. In John Bradford’s cabin all slept so lightly, that the slightest unusual sound startled them to instant wakefulness. The distant whoop of Indians on the prairie, and the howling of hungry wolves disturbed them not. They were in dread of a more infernal sound than these; the midnight yell of Border Ruffians. A few weeks after the departure of Alice, they were waked from uneasy slumbers by that frightful noise, at the very walls of their cabin. Katie rose hastily, and laying her sick child on the floor, covered him with a thick cotton comfortable; hoping that the rifle-balls, if they whizzed through the cabin, would either fly over him, or lose their force in the wadding. There was a random shot, but the ball stuck in the boards at their bed’s head. The next moment the door was burst open by twenty or thirty fierce-looking men, armed with bowie-knives and revolvers. Never, out of the infernal pit, was heard such a volley of blasphemy and obscenity, as poured from their foul mouths. The purport of it all was that they had sworn to “wipe out Lawrence;” and that they had come to shoot this “damned Yankee abolitionist,” who had had the impudence to write in the paper that Kansas would yet be a Free State. They attempted to seize Mr. Bradford, but his wife threw herself across him, and said, “If you murder him, it shall be through my heart’s blood.” They struck her with their fists, they tried to pull her away; but she clung with a convulsive power that was too strong for them. Her brother, Thomas, was out that night, watching with a neighbour who was “down” with fever and ague; and it had been previously arranged that young Flora and her mother should remain hidden in the loft, in case of such an emergency. No screams ascended to their ears, for Katie had outgrown a woman’s weakness. But the listening mother heard the scuffle below, and, bidding Flora to hide in the darkest corner, she hastened down the ladder, and threw her arms round John and Katie, saying, “You shall kill _me_ first.” They cursed her, and spit at her, and, knocking the night-cap from her head, made mockery of her gray hairs. The lurid light of their torch fell on the scene, and all the while, the wailing of the sick child was heard: “Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_. Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_.”

How the struggle might have ended, none can tell, had not a tall figure suddenly burst into the room, exclaiming, “Boys! I’m down on all sich fixens. Let the women alone! I’ll be darned if I don’t _like_ to see a woman stick to her husband in trouble, if he _is_ a damned abolitionist. Let her alone, I tell ye! Wait till the time comes for a far fight. It’s all fired _mean_, boys! Sich a posse arter one man and two women.” Seeing the human wolves reluctant to quit their prey, he brandished a bowie-knife, and exclaimed, in a thundering voice, “I tell ye what, boys, if ye don’t let them ar women alone, I’ll pitch into yer, as sure as my name’s Tom Thorpe!”

This remonstrance excited a feeling of shame in some of the gang, while others were willing enough to avoid a quarrel with such a powerful antagonist.

The ruffians, thus adjured, swaggered away, saying, “We a’nt afeerd o’ Tom Thorpe, or the devil.” They swore frightful oaths, smashed Kate’s small stock of crockery, and seized whatever they could lay hands on, as they went. And all the while, the sick babe was wailing, “Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_. Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_.”

Kate took the poor attenuated child in her arms. Those arms, so strong a few moments ago, were trembling now; and tears were dropping from the eyes that lately glared so sternly on her husband’s enemies. Tom Thorpe lingered a moment, and was turning silently away, when she rose, with the child resting on her shoulder, and took his hand in hers. “I thank you, Mr. Thorpe,” she said. “This is the second time you have protected me from insult and injury. I will never forget it. And if a helpless Missourian should ever need my aid, though he be the worst of Border Ruffians, I will remember Tom Thorpe, and help him for _his_ sake. I am sorry you stand up for slavery; you seem to have a soul too noble for that. I am sure if you lived in a Free State for a while, you would be convinced that slavery has a bad effect on all concerned in it.”

The mother here laid her hand on his arm, and said, “We are a persecuted people, Mr. Thorpe; persecuted without provocation; and, I believe, something in your own heart tells you so. God bless you for what you have done to-night.”

Mr. Bradford, who had been looking through the chinks in the wall, to watch the course the ruffians had taken, now came up to add his thanks, and ask him if he would take any refreshment.

“Thankee, stranger,” said Tom. “I’ve no ’casion. I’ve been drovin cattle roun in the Territory; and I knows that ar yell of theirn. So I thought I’d jist cum and see what they was cuttin up. I’m down on all sich fixens. Allers tole the boys so. Tom Thorpe’s fur a far fight, says I.”

Mr. Bradford tried to convince him that the inhabitants of Kansas wished to be peaceable, just, and kind in their dealings with the Missourians, and with all men; and that there was no need of a “fair fight,” and no excuse for ruffian violence. And Kate threw in an argument now and then, to aid her husband. But Tom Thorpe had the idea firmly fixed inside his shaggy head, that a “far fight” was somehow necessary for the honor of Missouri, though he was unable to explain why. The mighty drover rolled the quid in his mouth, passed a huge hand through his thick mass of hair, and strode out into the darkness, repeating, “Tom Thorpe’s down on all sich fixens.” As he walked along, he muttered to himself, “That ar’s an almighty smart woman. What a fetchin up she must a had! No such fetchin up in _our_ diggins. I’m pro-slave, myself. But them ar free-soilers use a feller all up. I swar, I bleeve they’re more’n half right. I’ll be darned if I don’t.”

Meanwhile, the inmates of the cabin were canvassing his merits. As he passed out of the door, Katie said, “There goes an honest kind heart, under that rough exterior!”

“A little foggy about right and wrong,” replied her husband; “but with instincts like a powerful and generous animal.”

“That’s owing to his ‘fetchin up,’ as _they_ say, rejoined Kate. “What a man he _might_ have made, if he had been brought up under free institutions!”

“Bless your generous soul!” ejaculated John. “But tell me now truly, Katie, don’t you begin to be sorry we ever came to Kansas?”

She raised her eyes to his, and said calmly, “No, John; never. The more I know of those Missouri ruffians, the more deeply do I feel that it is worth the sacrifice of many lives to save this fair territory from the blighting curse of slavery.”

“True as steel! True as steel!” exclaimed John, giving her a hearty kiss. “How manfully you stood by me!”

“How womanfully, you mean,” she replied, smiling.

“I assure you, Kate, it required more courage to refrain from seizing my rifle, than it would have done to discharge its contents among those rascals. Though we stand pledged to avoid bloodshed, I verily believe I should have broken my pledge, if your voice had not pleaded all the time, ‘Don’t, John! Don’t!’”

“Oh if the government at Washington would only do its duty!” sighed Kate. “How _can_ they trifle thus with the lives of innocent citizens?”

“It’s worse than that,” rejoined her husband. “Their influence protects the wolfish pack. Slavery always has need of blood-hounds to keep down the love of freedom in the human soul; and these Border Ruffians are its human blood-hounds.”

“I wonder whether Frank Pierce has any small children,” said Katie. “If he has, I wish he and his wife could have heard the feeble voice of this little one, in the midst of those shocking oaths and curses, calling out, ‘Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_.’ God of mercy! Shall I ever _forget_ that sound!” She drew the sleeping child to her heart, with a gentle pressure, and the tears of father and mother fell fast upon him. The grandmother sat apart with her head leaning on the table, and wept also.

* * * * *

For two or three weeks after this transaction, there was a lull in the tempest. Missourian wagoners came into Lawrence often, with loads of apples, potatoes, and flour. They met with honest and kindly treatment. No one sought to take reprisals for the many loads of provisions plundered from Kansas. The bravely patient people still waited for redress by law. Soon there came news of a peaceable, industrious settler in the neighbourhood of Lawrence, who had been shot dead by a scouting party of Missourians, in mere sport, while he was pursuing his avocations. A few days after, a gang of armed ruffians entered the house of a citizen in Lawrence and carried him off, under the pretence of arresting him for treason. On their way, they were met by a company of young men from Lawrence, who had been out to inquire about the recent murder. They hailed the Missourians, and as they could show no legal authority for what they had done, they took their neighbour into their own ranks, to guard him home. They offered no violence, but, in answer to the threats of their enemies, replied, with a firmness not to be trifled with, “We are all armed; and we shall take this man home.”

Though their own horses and cattle had been seized and driven off into Missouri, drove after drove, they inquired of their neighbour whether the horse he rode belonged to those who had arrested him; and when he answered in the affirmative, they asked him to dismount and return the animal to his owners. Truly the forbearance of that persecuted people was wonderful! The United States’ government, where was vested the only power that could legally protect them, continued to receive their remonstrances and appeals with fair promises and adroit evasions; while its alliance with the slaveholding interest, in all its machinations, was too thinly veiled to be for a moment doubted. In pursuance of this policy, the President appointed Governor Shannon to rule over the Territory; a man in league with the Missourians, and bent upon carrying out their plans, as openly as it was prudent to do. Somehow or other, no outrages upon Kansas could find redress at his hands. The settlers were told to obey the laws, and be good children to their father, President Pierce, and they should be protected. “The laws!” exclaimed they. “Why these are Missouri laws, forced upon us at the point of the bayonet.” They were answered, “The President commands you to obey the laws, and if you rebel against _his_ authority, you will be declared guilty of treason!” Meanwhile, many a smooth-tongued plotter tried to gain concessions from the friends of freedom; talking of the value of the Union, the danger of civil war, and the policy of bending before the storm; a favourite piece of advice in the mouths of those politicians, who set the storm in motion, and are guiding it in the hollow of their hands!

Was ever a people so hard bested? Disheartened by sickness; plundered of provisions; lying down every night with the prospect of murder before morning; mocked at by the government of their country; their conscientious scruples appealed to, to keep the peace where there _was_ no peace; lured into concessions, by fair promises and false professions; threatened with a traitor’s doom, if they dared to defend their homes! And all this while, the Free States were looking on with drowsy indifference. The whig said, with bland self-importance, “They’d better obey the powers that be. I am a friend to law and order.” The democrat refused to read well-authenticated testimony on the subject, and repeated, with blind obstinacy, “I don’t believe half the stories; and if _any_ of them are true, I dare say the free-soilers are full as much to blame as the Missourians.”

Verily, they need the trumpet of doom to waken them. And the trumpet of doom they will _have_, when wakening comes too late, if their slumber lasts much longer.

That little city of cabins, nestling among the lonely hills, has called and called in vain for redress and protection. The murders and robberies still go on. The Border Ruffians are assembling their forces at Franklin below, and at Douglass above. In their drunken frankness, they say they will shoot the men, violate the women, kill the children, and burn the houses; that their commission is to drive all the Yankee settlers out of the territory, by _any_ means, and _all_ means; and that no man will dare to prosecute them, whatever they may do. The settlers all feel that the hour for self-defence has come. Stacks of Sharpe’s rifles stand in the cabins ready loaded. Forts are erected, and breast-works thrown up. Companies of men work at them by turns, all day and all night, by the light of blazing wood. Volunteers come in from the neighbouring settlements. The Wyandott tribe of Indians offer their aid in case of need; for they have been justly treated by the Kansas people, and are unwilling to have them “wiped out.” Sentinels guard the doors of the Free State Hotel. All night, mounted patrols ride round the settlement. The drummer watches at his post, ready to beat the alarm; for they have learned that their cowardly, treacherous foes, assassin-like, prefer the midnight hour. Ever and anon, random shots come from ruffians concealed in dark corners. Women look anxiously at the doors, expecting to see the bleeding bodies of husbands, sons, or brothers, brought in. Governor Robinson, now General of the forces, still pursues his course of moderation, and orders the men not to fire till the very last extremity.

There was a small store of powder and percussion-caps in the vicinity, and various plans were devised to bring it in safely, through the scouting-parties of Missourians. “I will do it,” said Mrs. Bradford. “They will never suspect that women carry such luggage.” Another woman in the neighbourhood promptly offered to accompany her, and they started in a wagon for that purpose. They were accosted by Missouri scouts, but as their place of destination seemed to imply nothing more than visiting a friend, they deemed it gallant to let the ladies pass unmolested. The kegs of powder were covered by their ample skirts, and brought safely into Lawrence. The young men on guard threw up their caps, and cried, “Hurra! Worthy of the women of ’76!”