LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 STEWART S. HOWE 
 
 JOURNALISM CLASS OF 1928 
 
 STEWART S. HOWE FOUNDATION 
 
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 Illinois HlCTOiWf SWIFT
 
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 AUTOSKETCHES, RANDOM NOTES 
 AND REMINISCENCES 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN HAMILCAR HOLLISTER 
 
 Chicago, Illinois 
 1912
 
 vS 
 
 For many years Dr. Martin and I made it our custom, 
 when not otherwise engaged, to go over to the old home at 3430 
 Rhodes Avenue, late in the evening, for a "just before bed- 
 time" chat with the dear people there. Almost invariably we 
 found them seated before a bright open fire, my father reading 
 aloud from some big book nothing frivolous, mind you and 
 my mother fashioning a dainty gift from ribbon or from a bright 
 bit of worsted for some loved friend. Often our conversation 
 turned to bygone days, and so interesting was it and so varied, that 
 over and over again I exclaimed "Papa, why don't you talk this 
 into a phonograph. I shall forget it all and some day I shall want 
 it so much!" 
 
 Then one fall, the fall of 1908, came a season of great mystery 
 a dropping of newspapers over unknown somethings in unexpected 
 places and a hasty pushing aside of innocent looking bits of paper. 
 As a result, I received, that Christmas, a square white box. In 
 it, neatly typewritten, were sixteen chapters of "Memories." 
 Each chapter had been tied by my mother's dear fingers with a 
 bright scarlet ribbon and a sprig of holly, and I need not tell you 
 that of all the gifts of my life, this was the most precious. 
 
 That was our last Christmas as an unbroken family. My 
 mother died the following February, and in his great loneliness my 
 father turned with unanticipated pleasure to the continuance of 
 this self-appointed task. Having laid aside the responsibilities 
 and duties of an unusually active life, he now found that this 
 labor of love was indeed a blessing in disguise. Many were the 
 chapters that we planned for future writing and many were the 
 sketches outlined to be filled in. Much that I long to have remains 
 untold, but I am glad there were pages still unwritten, for I rejoice
 
 V
 
 to think that he never felt that the sands of life had quite run out 
 while work yet remained for him to do. 
 
 In his manuscript there are one or two slight inaccuracies which, 
 owing to the fact that our books are all packed away, I have been 
 unable to verify or correct. These, however, are trifling and unim- 
 portant. 
 
 His medical career is here somewhat briefly touched upon 
 because in a series of articles which he had recently written, and to 
 which he here refers, he had dealt at length with his professional 
 relations. The most vital period of his life seems to have been 
 that of the Civil War. Over and over again, he referred to the 
 experiences covered by those crucial years, and always with the 
 deepest Interest and intensity. The chapters upon African 
 Slavery were written during the summer of 1910, which he spent 
 with us at Midlothian. All day long he would sit absorbed in 
 some big volume, until the lengthening shadows would have tried 
 younger eyes than his; and early in the morning, upon our upper 
 porch in the treetops, I would hear him clicking away upon his 
 little typewriter, as he copied the work of the day before. 
 
 And now I am sharing what the dear hand has written with 
 you, because I know how much you loved and respected my father 
 and because I hope this little remembrance of him will prove a 
 real joy to you. It is the last effort of a long and busy life; a life 
 singularly simple and unassuming in itself, yet of such inspiration 
 and strength to those about him; a life full of dignity, earnest 
 purpose and power, yet withal full of hope, happiness and love; 
 a life fully completed and rounded out, of which our hearts all may 
 say "He has fought a good fight, he has finished his course, he 
 has kept the faith." 
 
 Hotel Metro pole, 
 Chicago.
 
 foretooth 
 
 THIS little book does not aspire to pub- 
 licity. It is written at the request of 
 my wife and children. As they are respon- 
 sible for its production, so must they be 
 for its imperfections. 
 
 To my wife, let it be a memento of 
 sixty years of married life; to our children, 
 Dr. Franklin H. Martin and Isabelle Hoi- 
 lister Martin, a Christmas gift. 
 
 CHRISTMAS, 1908.
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 ANCESTRAL HISTORY u 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 FAMILY HISTORY 20 
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 LIFE IN MICHIGAN 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 33 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 SCHOOLS AND TEACHERS 40 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 SCHOOL TEACHING 44 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 MEDICAL STUDIES 49 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 SEEKING A LOCATION 53 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 COUNTRY PRACTICE 57 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 MARRIAGE AND SETTLEMENT 62 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 REMOVAL TO CHICAGO 67
 
 Contents? 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 FIFTY YEARS' MEDICAL PRACTICE IN CHICAGO . . .71 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 MEDICAL TEACHING 76 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 MEDICAL SOCIETIES 80 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP 83 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 MISSION SUNDAY SCHOOLS . . . 88 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE CHICAGO FIRE 104 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 TRIP TO EUROPE 109 
 
 Iconic latiD lutings 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 FIRST VISIT TO CHICAGO 121 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 EXCURSION TO THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 124 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 VISIT TO EASTERN COLLEGES 129 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 SOUTHERN VISIT 1865 135
 
 Content^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 CENTENNIAL EXPOSITION, PHILADELPHIA, 1876 . . . 140 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE DISCOVERY OF THE YELLOWSTONE PARK . . . 144 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE SAN FRANCISCO EARTHQUAKE 154 
 
 African 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 AFRICAN SLAVERY 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 BRITISH EMANCIPATION 174 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES 192 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 ABOLITION OF SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES . .216 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 REMEMBRANCES OF MR. LINCOLN 237
 
 of Cf^t? gears 
 
 IT has seemed to me desirable to perfect, so far as possi- 
 ble, the Genealogical Records of the Hollister and 
 Chamberlin families, with which I am connected. To this 
 end I have sought their records from various sources and 
 recorded them at length in our Family Bible, a brief 
 synopsis of which is here given. Of our English ancestors 
 but little can be learned, from the fact that, by reason of 
 the War of Independence, so alienated were the colonies 
 from the mother country that few of our American families 
 cared to maintain relationship with their kindred in England 
 and were indifferent as to the records which might relate 
 them to their ancestors. So far as I have been able to 
 connect our families with their antecedents the results 
 are here briefly outlined. 
 
 THE HOLLISTERS IN ENGLAND 
 
 No satisfactory conclusion has been reached as to the 
 origin of the family name. It appears in English records 
 as early as 1563 and is believed to be of Anglo-Saxon origin. 
 Numerous families of that name were located principally 
 in the counties of Gloucestershire, Somersetshire, and 
 Wiltshire. There are records of births, marriages and deaths
 
 of Cigfttp Hearg 
 
 in these counties dating from 1563 to 1677. The records 
 also show that some of them were men of means and were 
 extensive land-holders, as in the case where Lord Berkley, 
 in the sixth year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, sold 
 one fourth of his manor of Almondsbury, Gloucestershire, to 
 John Hollister and others. 
 
 In the language of Heraldry the Hollister Coat of Arms 
 is described as follows: 
 
 "Sable between a greyhound courant blendwise and a dolphin 
 hauriant in base Argent, three roses gules in a chief of the 
 second two slips of strawberry fructus proper. 
 
 "Crest: an arm in armour embowered holding a branch of 
 holly proper. 
 
 "Motto: Fuimus, et sub Deo erimus." 
 
 We also find record of a will made by John Hollister, 
 merchant, in Bristol, England, dated July 15, 1575. The 
 name John Hollister was of record frequently previous to 
 the time of the arrival of our ancestor who came to Amer- 
 ica. From which of the families he was a descendant we 
 are not able to determine. 
 
 THE HOLLISTERS IN AMERICA 
 
 John Hollister, the Immigrant from whom all the families 
 of that name so far as we know are descended, was born in 
 England in 1612, and migrated to America in 1642. 
 
 From the prominence to which he soon attained it is 
 evident that he was a man of culture and strong personality. 
 The year following his settlement in the Connecticut Colony 
 at Hartford he was made a "freeman," and the next year, 
 1644, he was selected to represent Wethersfield in the
 
 OLD HOLLISTER HOUSE AT SOUTH GLASTONBURY, CONNECTICUT
 
 &ncetral 
 
 Colonial Assembly, and continued to act in that capacity 
 at nearly every session for ten years. He made additions 
 to what was known as "The Naubuck Farms" and there 
 he built the celebrated "old red house," in which he lived 
 and died, and which remained in possession of his descend- 
 ants of that name for 233 years, until in 1888 it passed to 
 other hands. 
 
 That he was one of the foremost men in social life is 
 evident in that Joanna Treat, whom he married, was the 
 daughter of Richard Treat, Senior, one of the patentees 
 named in the charter granted by Charles II to the 
 Hartford Colony. He was almost continuously elected to 
 official positions in the infant colony and was appointed 
 Tax Collector also for the support of students at Cambridge. 
 Robert Treat, a brother of his wife, was Governor of 
 Connecticut for many years. Colonel Hollister, as he was 
 called, was thus brought into intimate relation with the 
 most prominent families in the colony. 
 
 In his church connection he was not entirely happy. It 
 was an unusual thing at that day for a layman to with- 
 stand and antagonize his minister, but that was what he 
 did. For some reason, which I am not able to learn, the 
 minister informed him that he had excommunicated him 
 from the church, whereupon Colonel Hollister demanded a 
 copy of his charges and a hearing before the church. This 
 was denied him. The result was that a portion of the 
 church members withdrew and united with him in the 
 formation of another church. As the new organization 
 included the names of a number of the most prominent 
 citizens, and also that of the Governor, it seems evident 
 
 13
 
 Jftemorieg of <6i0f)tp liearg 
 
 that he was strongly supported in his contention. That 
 he also was inclined to be belligerent is apparent from the 
 fact that the report made by the Council to which the mat- 
 ter was finally referred, stated that in their view both of 
 the contestants had been unwarrantably rash and that both 
 were amenable to criticism. The pugnacious pastor not 
 long after resigned his position in the old church and sought 
 a pastorate elsewhere. 
 
 The physical prowess of Colonel Hollister is well indicated 
 by a quotation which I am tempted to make from Chapin 's 
 History of Glastonbury for Two Hundred Years, in which he 
 writes as follows: "The nearest approach to hostilities that 
 has come to our knowledge is furnished by the following 
 tradition in regard to John Hollister which has been sup- 
 plied by a member of the family now abroad. While Col. 
 Hollister continued on the West side of the River he was 
 accustomed to go over and cultivate in Nauaug unprotected 
 by company. On one occasion a huge stout Indian appeared 
 before him saying he had been told that he, Mr. H., was 
 the stoutest paleface in the settlement and proposed a trial 
 of strength in a fight. Col. H. assented and at it they 
 went. After engaging in a conflict until each was exhaust- 
 ed they mutually agreed upon a truce and sitting down upon 
 a log rested themselves. Having recovered breath and 
 strength they fought again, and again they rested, fighting 
 and resting until sundown, when neither having conquered 
 they exchanged tokens of friendship and ever after lived 
 in peace." 
 
 Colonel Hollister died in Wethersfield in 1665, aged 53 
 years. His wife died in 1694, twenty-nine years later. 
 
 14
 
 &ncegtral 
 
 To this family eight children were born, of whom John, 
 Jr., their eldest son, was our paternal ancestor. 
 
 John Hollister, Jr., was born in Wethersfield in 1644 and 
 was married to Mary Goodrich hi 1667. He was one of 
 the principal men in Glastonbury, Connecticut, and died 
 there November, 1711. Seven children were born to this 
 family, of whom, in the third generation, Thomas was our 
 ancestor. 
 
 Thomas Hollister was born in Wethersfield January 14, 
 1672. He married Dorothy Hill, of Glastonbury, and died 
 there in 1741. By occupation he was called "the weaver," 
 and held the office of Deacon in the church. To this family 
 thirteen children were born, five sons and eight daughters, 
 of whom seven daughters were married and one died at the 
 age of seven years Of the five sons, Charles was our 
 forefather. 
 
 Charles Hollister, of the fourth generation, was born in 
 Glastonbury in 1701. He was married to Prudence Francis 
 in Wethersfield in 1 7 29. He settled in Eastbury, Connecticut, 
 and died there in 1753. His tombstone is to be seen in the 
 old burying-ground in Eastbury. His family consisted of 
 nine children, seven sons and two daughters. Of these, 
 his third son, Francis, was our progenitor. 
 
 Captain Francis Hollister was born in Glastonbury in 
 1733. He married Betty McKee in 1753. They resided 
 in Tyringham, Massachusetts. He was a sea captain and 
 died in Havana in 1770. They had seven children, four 
 sons and three daughters. Of these, Abner, the oldest son, 
 was our ancestor. 
 
 Abner Hollister of the sixth generation, was born in 1754. 
 
 is
 
 of <igi)tp 
 
 He was a soldier in the Revolution and was with Arnold 
 in his march to Quebec. After Arnold 's surrender he made 
 his escape through a pathless wilderness, and, after suffering 
 great privation, reached his home. By his first wife, Sarah 
 Betty of Tyringham, whom he married in 1775, he had 
 twelve children, of whom my father, John Bentley Hollister, 
 was the tenth child. For his second wife he married Eliza- 
 beth Granger of Oneida County, New York. No children 
 were born to them from this marriage. He died in Cato, 
 Cayuga County, New York, in 1813, aged 59 years. 
 
 OUTLINE RECORD OF BIRTHS, MARRIAGES AND DEATHS 
 
 Born Died 
 
 1612 John Hollister, Immigrant 1694 
 
 Married Joanna Treat 
 
 SECOND GENERATION 
 
 1644 John Hollister, Jr. 1711 
 
 Married Sarah Goodrich, 1667 
 
 THIRD GENERATION 
 
 1672 Thomas Hollister 1741 
 
 Married Dorothy Hill 
 
 FOURTH GENERATION 
 
 1701 Charles Hollister 1753 
 
 Married Prudence Francis, 1729 
 
 FIFTH GENERATION 
 
 1733 Francis Hollister 1770 
 
 Married Betty McKee, 1753 
 
 SIXTH GENERATION 
 
 1754 Abner Hollister 1813 
 
 Married Sarah Betty, 1775 
 Elizabeth Granger, 1802 
 16
 
 &megtral i^i 
 
 
 SEVENTH GENERATION 
 
 
 1795 
 
 John Bentley Hollister .... 
 Married 
 
 . 1831 
 
 1797 
 
 Mary Chamberlin, 1821 
 
 1890 
 
 
 EIGHTH GENERATION 
 
 
 1824 
 
 John Hamilcar Hollister 
 Married 
 
 1911 
 
 1827 
 
 Jeannette Windiate, 1849. 
 
 1909 
 
 THE CHAMBERLIN GENEALOGY 
 
 In the above, my mother's family is represented. In 
 treating of the Chamberlin history I am mainly indebted to 
 the researches of Mr. William Chamberlin, a native of Dalton, 
 Massachusetts, and for some thirty years or more before 
 the Civil War, a merchant in Natchez, Mississippi. He thinks 
 that our ancestry dates back to the one who held the posi- 
 tion of Chamberlain to William the Conqueror when he 
 went over to England. Be that as it may, I am only 
 interested to trace that branch of the family now so nu- 
 merous in our own country and from which our immediate 
 line is descended. 
 
 Joseph Chamberlin was the name of our first American 
 ancestor. He was of English antecedents, bom in Wales, 
 whither his father, who was a stanch Protestant, had fled 
 to escape the persecution so intense during the reign of 
 Charles I. He was born in 1653, m tne fourth year of the 
 Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, and lived through the 
 successive reigns of Charles II, James II, William and 
 Mary, Ann, George I, and more than half of that of George 
 II. For the same reason that their father fled to Wales, 
 when his estate was confiscated, three of his sons migrated 
 
 17
 
 of 
 
 to America in 1670. Of these, Joseph, our progenitor, was 
 only seventeen years old. He settled in Colchester, 
 Connecticut, where he lived to see five generations of de- 
 scendants born. He died in 1750, aged 97 years, respected 
 by all who knew him. He was married at Colchester and 
 reared a family of five sons and five daughters. The sons ' 
 names were William, Freedom, Joseph, Benjamin, and 
 John. The names of the daughters were not given. Our 
 line descends from John, the youngest son. He was a 
 farmer and resided in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, and died 
 there, aged 85 years His son Joseph was the founder of 
 the fourth generation. l 
 
 Joseph Chamberlin, the founder of the fourth generation, 
 was the father of four sons and five daughters. The sons 
 were named Martin, Jacob, Gad, and Dan. The names 
 of the five daughters are also given. 
 
 Eunice, who married Dr. Abel Kittredge. 
 
 Lois, who married Samuel Baldwin. 
 
 Abia, who married Levi Day. 
 
 Saphronia, who married Eliphalet Chamberlin. 
 
 Jerusha, who married Smith Parmlee. 
 
 Gad Chamberlin, of the fifth generation, the third son of 
 Joseph Chamberlin, was my grandfather. He was born 
 in Colchester, Connecticut, in 1770, and removed to Dalton, 
 Massachusetts, when he was but a child, and there he grew 
 to manhood. He was married to Lydia Baldwin of the ad- 
 joining town of Windsor. He settled first in Greenville, 
 New York, later in Sangersfield, then Lima, New York, and 
 
 1 Both the second and third generations of our branch of the family were 
 represented by John Chamberlin. My father realized that he had omitted 
 one of these, but neglected to make any change in his manuscript. I. H. M. 
 
 18
 
 in 1827 removed to Romeo, Michigan, where he died in 
 1846, aged 76 years. His family consisted of eleven 
 children, of whom Mary, my mother, was the oldest. Their 
 names were as follows: 
 
 Mary, who married John B. Hollister. 
 
 Samuel, who married Eliza Collins. 
 
 Platt, who married Phoebe Parkhurst. 
 
 Addison, who married Lydia Leach, and Ann Parsons. 
 
 Electa, who married Rev. William T. Snow. 
 
 Nelson, who died, aged ten years. 
 
 Julia, who married Rev. Luther Shaw. 
 
 Harvey, who married Juliette McKeen. 
 
 Joseph, who married Olive Warren. 
 
 Nelson P., who married Hannah Potter. 
 
 James B., who married Margaret Chamberlin. 
 
 Lydia Baldwin Chamberlin, the mother of this family, 
 died in Greenville, Michigan, and is buried in the family 
 lot in Romeo beside her husband. A monument to their 
 memory has been erected in that place. 
 
 The union of the Hollister and Chamberlin families was 
 consummated by the marriage of John B. Hollister, my 
 father, with my mother, Mary Chamberlin. To them, 
 reference will be made in the succeeding chapter. 
 
 As family records sometimes become of special interest 
 to later generations, it has been a matter of interest to trace 
 the genealogy of these two families from the landing of their 
 progenitors in America, and this data may possibly be of 
 service to those who may come after me.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 FAMILY HISTORY 
 
 JOHN BENTLEY HOLLISTER, my father, was born 
 *-* in the town of Adams, Jefferson County, New York, 
 in 1795. His mother died when he was hardly six years 
 old, and he went to live with an older sister, the wife of 
 Rev. Chauncy Cook, then the resident minister at Pompey 
 Hill, near Syracuse, New York. The Pompey Hill Academy 
 was then one of the most popular educational institutions 
 in the state, and there many noted men were educated. 
 My father's prominence as a student in that institution is 
 evident from the fact that at the age of sixteen he gained 
 the highest award for scholarship at the annual examina- 
 tion. The prize awarded was a standard volume of John- 
 son's English Dictionary, a rare and somewhat expensive 
 work at that date. It was the standard authority both in 
 Europe and America. It was not until years later that 
 the first edition of Webster's Dictionary was given to the 
 public. While he was a proficient student of the lan- 
 guages, he was especially fond of mathematics and early 
 became an adept as a land surveyor. In those 
 days there was a very great demand for such service. At 
 the early age of eighteen years he had chosen this for a 
 permanent calling, and in 1818, only two years after the 
 close of the war with England, he was employed to fulfill 
 a contract with the United States Government, to survey 
 the base line of the present State of Missouri, separating it
 
 from the territory of Arkansas. He made his journey 
 by way of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers to St. Louis, 
 then a mere hamlet, and only known as a French and 
 Indian trading post in which as yet few Americans had 
 found a home. From here he was to penetrate the heart 
 of the Indian country for one hundred and fifty miles. 
 
 Although peace with England had been declared two 
 years previously, the war spirit was still burning in many 
 an Indian breast, and the invasion of their hunting ground 
 was ample evidence of the white man's future intent. 
 The surveying party must needs be well armed and strong 
 enough in number for self-defense. His company con- 
 sisted of thirty men. Fully armed and equipped, they set 
 out from St. Louis with their pack train, following the West 
 bank of the Mississippi to the territorial line, where they 
 began the original westward survey. He had in his com- 
 pany as wiry a set of men as only the wild west could pro- 
 duce, and every man was doubly armed. After my father's 
 death, when I was but seven years old, my mother used 
 from time to time to recount many of his experiences as she 
 had learned them from his lips, and these are among my 
 most abiding memories. To a few of them I will briefly 
 refer. The question of subsistence was one of the chief 
 concerns. When once these thirty men had cut loose from 
 their base of supplies it was not long before their bread 
 supply was exhausted. Beans, a limited amount of flour, 
 and the various kinds of wild game of every sort were to 
 be their main reliance. One man of all the company came 
 to be named the "mighty hunter," and slight as the chances 
 might seem to other eyes, he never failed to round up an 
 
 21
 
 of 
 
 ample supply. Another serious question was that of water 
 in those hot summer months. The tributary streams that 
 fed the Arkansas were sometimes far apart and the ravines 
 and swamps were so thoroughly dried that the party often 
 suffered from extreme thirst. Once their lives were in 
 great peril. They had occasion on their route to pass over 
 an extended ridge of prairie which lay between them and 
 the next waterway. They had been misled as to the dis- 
 tance, and for three days they were compelled to make a 
 forced march under a burning sun, without a drop of water 
 to slake their thirst. Their tongues became too much 
 swollen to be retained within their mouths, and bled from 
 overpressure upon their teeth. They finally came upon 
 a ravine and from the moist earth, little by little, succeeded 
 in gaining enough water from the oozing mud to save their 
 imperiled lives. It was my father's impression that if 
 they had come upon a full supply of water at once they 
 might have died from its excessive use. That experience 
 was never to be repeated. Ever after, outriders were 
 sent to locate their water supply. 
 
 Another not so serious experience befell them. The 
 tall prairie grass was a constant and serious impediment. 
 If it could be swept away by fire this hindrance would be 
 removed, and besides, the time had come when the wily 
 Indians might so encompass them with fire as to threaten 
 their lives. One day, when the wind seemed favorable 
 for their purpose, the grass was set on fire; and none but 
 those who have been eye-witnesses can comprehend the 
 meaning of a prairie fire. For a time all went well, but 
 soon the wind changed and blew directly toward their
 
 f amiip 
 
 camp, which was pitched upon the bank of a stream 
 several miles away. By a circuitous route they made 
 their way as best they could to the place of their encamp- 
 ment, only to find it a smoldering ruin. Many of their 
 valuables and most of their supplies had been destroyed in 
 the flames. But these were minor losses compared with the 
 value of my father's field notes. By a wise forethought, 
 happily, these had been preserved. Had they been 
 destroyed his summer's work would have gone for naught. 
 His unique precaution saved him from this loss. He seemed 
 to have an intuition that some misfortune might befall 
 the camp, by fire or other mishap, and so he made dis- 
 position of his surveys as follows: the topographical maps 
 and field notes were first wrapped in oiled silk, then folded 
 in a rubber cloth to insure against dampness, and then 
 again, to secure against fire, they were wrapped in a green 
 buffalo hide prepared for that purpose. This hide was 
 charred to a crisp but the contents were safe. 
 
 Upon this line, which formed the boundary between 
 the Missouri and Arkansas territories, the future sub- 
 divisions of Missouri were to be based. This was the 
 first of like invasions upon the Indian territory beyond the 
 Mississippi. On these broad prairies there were no trees 
 to be blazed and no stones to serve as landmarks, but 
 stakes carried on pack mules were driven deep in the ground, 
 and sods cut from the prairie and piled around them would 
 tell their story for ages. But often for miles and miles 
 the Indians would follow the surveyors and obliterate these 
 landmarks. 
 
 It was late in the autumn of 1818 that my father's con- 
 
 23
 
 of <i0f)tp % earg 
 
 tract was completed. Returning to St. Louis his company 
 was soon disbanded. His returns to the Government were 
 forwarded for approval and he set his face homeward. 
 In the meantime he had purchased a famous saddle horse 
 for his homeward trip, which was afterwards disposed of 
 to his brother Abner Hollister and was noted as the "John 
 Horse," from bearing my father's name. For many years 
 he was a great pet, and when he died of old age was buried 
 with special honors. Father traveled on horseback through 
 the states of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, and returned 
 to Cato, Cayuga County, New York at the close of the 
 year. 
 
 Earlier reference should have been made to father's 
 military career. As my ancestors had been active partici- 
 pants in the War of the Revolution, so my father was 
 likewise engaged in the War of 1812. Although he was 
 but seventeen years old he joined the army as a sub- 
 stitute, being mustered in as a private of the New York 
 State militia. While his company was serving under the 
 command of General Scott at the battle of Lundy's Lane, 
 he was detached to drive one of the teams charged with 
 the delivery of ammunition from the base of supplies to 
 the firing line. While thus engaged, a flank charge was 
 made by British cavalry, breaking our line, and he received 
 a severe cut on his head at the hand of a dashing cavalry- 
 man. His cap was cut and he received a severe scalp 
 wound, the scar of which he carried through life. A button 
 upon his cap was cut nearly in twain, and to this protection 
 he attributed the saving of his life. He received an 
 honorable discharge, and a pension was accorded to my 
 
 24
 
 mother, who lived to be ninety-two years old. At the 
 time of his death, in 1831, he held the rank of Colonel in 
 the State Militia of Michigan, and I well remember his 
 prominence in the annual military training, as I once 
 undertook to run to him when he was maneuvering the 
 troops on the field, and he detailed a soldier to take me to 
 the guard house. Thus a few words with regard to my 
 father's early life. 
 
 Mary Chamberlin, my mother, the oldest of ten children 
 of Gad Chamberlin and Lydia Baldwin, was born in 
 Greeneville, Green County, New York, December 15, 1797. 
 In her early childhood the family removed to Sangers- 
 field, Oneida County. In 1816 they again removed to 
 Lima, Livingston County, where she remained until her 
 marriage. It was a special purpose of her father that his 
 children should enjoy the best educational facilities that 
 the times and his means could afford. In addition to the 
 advantage which Lima offered, my mother later attended 
 the Young Ladies' Seminary at Moscow, New York, then in 
 high repute. Her special fondness was for English Com- 
 position, in which she so far excelled as to receive a letter 
 of special commendation from the principal at the con- 
 clusion of the final examinations. 
 
 During the years of her young womanhood strong attach- 
 ments were developed among the young people of Lima 
 and its environments, resulting not only in a number of 
 intermarriages, but also the continuance of those friend- 
 ships in the families which were to be. 
 
 During my father's absence upon his surveying tour his 
 brother-in-law, Rev. Chauncy Cook, with whom he had 
 
 25
 
 ieg of <i0f)tp Ifearg 
 
 lived in Pompey, had assumed the pastorate of the Presby- 
 terian Church in Lima, New York, and hither my father 
 came and taught the district school in that town in the 
 winter of 1819 and 1820. There he made mother's 
 acquaintance in 1820. They were married in Lima in 
 1821, Rev. John Barnard officiating, and removed to my 
 father's former home in Cato, Cayuga County. The follow- 
 ing year they located beside their Baldwin relatives in Riga, 
 Monroe County. Here their first-born babe, named 
 Harleigh Hamilcar, was accidentally scalded and died a 
 few hours later. Here at Riga I was born, August 5, 1824, 
 and two years later my little sister, Juliette, who died 
 when she was two years old.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 LIFE IN MICHIGAN 
 
 TN 1825 the Erie Canal had been completed to Buffalo, 
 and by it communication by way of the Lakes was 
 established with the great Northwest. The Territory of 
 Michigan was then being opened for settlement, and the 
 tide of emigration was strongly set in that direction. My 
 father early saw that in establishing the metes and bounds 
 of these early settlers his services as a surveyor would be 
 in constant requirement. He also foresaw that in the 
 development of this new country there would be an un- 
 limited opportunity for personal advancement. Grand- 
 father Chamberlin was also strongly inclined in the same 
 direction. With a large and growing family, his ambition 
 was to settle his children comfortably around him and to 
 give to each of his seven boys a farm. Here, it seemed to 
 him, was his opportunity. He little knew that four of 
 these sons would be buried in Mississippi, one in Oregon, 
 and only one in Michigan. The Territory was awaiting 
 the coming of such men, and there, to his heart's content, 
 he could convert the forest into fruitful fields. Other 
 families, like-minded, joined him in the organization of a 
 little colony numbering some thirty persons. A canal 
 boat was chartered at Pittsford, New York, and the people 
 and their effects were soon landed in Buffalo. The old 
 steamer United States was one of the first steamboats on 
 Lake Erie, and in that they skirted the southern shore 
 
 27
 
 of 
 
 of the lake and landed, after three days, at Detroit, May 
 10, 1827. That town then contained about four hundred 
 inhabitants, a majority of whom were French and half- 
 breed Indians. The objective point for our people was then 
 called Indian Village, situated forty miles north of Detroit, 
 and to reach this point with their effects required three 
 full days. Romeo is the name now given to the village which 
 they helped to form, and where before the winter set in the 
 colony was comfortably housed. During the summer Grand- 
 father erected a sawmill in connection with his farming 
 interests, and thus lumber, so much needed, was soon 
 supplied. 
 
 The coming of the colony gave a marked impulse to the 
 settlement of that part of the county of Macomb. New 
 settlers were wonderfully kind. Men turned out far and 
 near to assist at the raising of houses and barns, and women 
 were unsparing in their devotion to those who were sick. 
 The needs of the children in the new settlement were early 
 recognized and promptly provided for. A year had not 
 elapsed before a frame schoolhouse had been erected. It 
 was the first frame building in all that part of the county, 
 and from that day the settlement never failed to maintain 
 both summer and winter schools quite above the average of 
 district schools then in vogue. Not only were schools 
 fostered, but religious meetings were soon inaugurated. 
 By common consent the schoolhouses throughout the 
 country were at the service of religious denominations. 
 The Methodist people led in this pioneer work, and circuit 
 riders, as they were called, rendered a most important 
 service. Within a year of our arrival there were stated 
 
 28
 
 Hifc hi 
 
 preaching services in our schoolhouse, people coming from a 
 distance to attend the meetings. On special occasions, 
 such as a quarterly meeting, it became necessary for want 
 of room to hold services in an adjacent barn, where, as I 
 well remember, a little later I was one of the boys on the hay 
 mow. It was a desirable class of people which located in 
 Michigan in those early days. Persons and property were 
 perfectly secure and the commission of crime was almost 
 unknown. The majority of the people were religiously 
 inclined, and in an early day the various denominations 
 were permanently organized. Especial attention was 
 given to the subject of education. The territory was yet 
 in its infancy when schools became one of the chief con- 
 cerns. The Michigan University of to-day is the logical 
 outcome of its district schools and the academies which 
 they developed. I know not how it is to-day, but twenty- 
 five years ago there was more mail delivered to the citizens 
 of Michigan per capita than to those of any other state in 
 the Union. 
 
 In this connection it may not be amiss to speak of 
 rural life in those early days. Nothing could be more 
 democratic than the methods and manners of the early 
 settlers. There was no class distinction between employers 
 and employed. That could not well be, for all had to work. 
 The man or woman who would not, if able-bodied, would 
 be considered an outcast for whom there was no use. 
 Workmen were housed under the same roof with their 
 employers, ate at the same table, and held position accord- 
 ing to their merit. In cases of large families with limited 
 means, it was the custom for the older boys and girls to 
 
 29
 
 of 
 
 work out as " hired help." I recall the histories of a num- 
 ber who worked in our own and grandfather's families. 
 The wages of young men from twenty to twenty-five 
 years old averaged from ten to thirteen dollars per month, 
 with board. Girls were employed at from fifty cents to one 
 dollar a week, according to the value of their services. 
 Young men frequently hired out at one hundred and 
 fifty dollars a year and " found. " At that time 
 land at a dollar and a quarter an acre could be found 
 within five miles of us in almost any direction. It 
 was the ambition of every aspiring young man to own 
 eighty acres, purchased by his first year's earnings, and 
 then, from the proceeds of a second year, to place himself in 
 comfortable condition in his own new home, with five or 
 ten acres clear. The first home was a simple log house, 
 more or less complete, according to the ability of the 
 owner. Hardly less important was the building of a barn 
 for the protection of his cattle and his crops. While the 
 young man had been working for the purchase of his acres, 
 usually a girl of his acquaintance was working in like man- 
 ner and as saving of her earnings, and when the minister 
 made them one she went with him to the new home, moder- 
 ately supplied with clothing, and taking as a dower from her 
 parents, a pet cow and a feather bed. The young couple 
 were of one mind. They rose early and toiled late. Year 
 by year the fields were enlarged and the flocks increased. 
 It was a signal event when a span of horses was added to 
 their stock. I could name not a few families who thus 
 began life when I was a little boy. I have known the 
 histories of those families through two generations. Not 
 
 3
 
 Hife in 
 
 many were ever improvident; hardly ever did a child fail 
 of good common school education and most of those settlers 
 continued to old age as prosperous farmers. Many of 
 their sons were college bred, some became ministers 
 others lawyers and doctors, a number were distinguished 
 statesmen, while some strong men still held the old farms. 
 
 There has been a strong tendency during the last fifty 
 years for both the boys and girls to leave the old homestead 
 and settle in the rapidly growing cities Thus the cities 
 have been constantly growing at the expense of the country. 
 For years it has been a matter of constant observation 
 that the conspicuous men in the professional and in the finan- 
 cial world were largely country born, strong in physical and 
 mental development, leaders in finance, education, and in 
 the development of moral and religious institutions. Not 
 only have the cities made such demands upon these homes, 
 but such has been the rapid growth of our western empire 
 and such the inducements to migrate thither, that almost 
 every town and hamlet in the older states has contributed 
 its numerous representatives in the settlement of the West. 
 The result has been that in all the newly acquired territory 
 the American spirit has been dominant, and the foreign 
 population has been steadily and rapidly Americanized. 
 The trend of influence among the great masses of our 
 people is toward the right, and their final pronouncement 
 is always safe. 
 
 Another source of safety for our commonwealth is found 
 in the fact that there are no entailments of large estates. 
 The toilers in vast numbers are the owners of the soil they 
 till, and this love of possession is one of the strongest 
 
 31
 
 of 
 
 factors that can be relied upon for national preservation. 
 Every owner of a homestead can be counted on as loyal 
 to his country and a defender of the people. Thus, while, 
 within the period of my memory, the population of this 
 country has increased from fifteen to over eighty millions, 
 there never was a time when the people, whether home or 
 foreign born, were more sincerely loyal to every interest 
 than they are to-day. A million lives have already been 
 given to the preservation of the union. A million home- 
 steads and the hearts of their possessors are pledged for 
 our national perpetuity.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 
 
 T I BURNING from ancestral history and the experiences 
 * of our people in pioneer life to matters personal, it 
 seems natural to refer first to some of my earliest childhood 
 memories. There are many which I can recall, but a few 
 only must suffice. Trivial as they were, they have in later 
 years held an abiding place in my memory. It may not be 
 a survival of the fittest, but it is surely a case where the 
 first shall be last. Thus it seems to me of those I can recall 
 after a period of eighty years. 
 
 My first attempt to acquire property by conquest 
 occurred just eighty- two years ago. It was a case where 
 thus early I assumed that might made right, and that pos- 
 session held at least nine points in the law, a rule not even 
 yet entirely obsolete. 
 
 A Mr. Voorhies had purchased my father's farm just 
 before our removal to Michigan, and for a few weeks the two 
 families were dwelling under the same roof. I was the 
 active representative of my father's family, and Katherine 
 was the only child in the other. I was two years and 
 eight months old, and Kate was six months older than I. 
 The acquirement of property is a fashion not confined to 
 individuals. The United States coveted a part of Mexico 
 and got it by no fair means; England treated the Boers in 
 like manner. It was in precisely like manner that Kate and 
 I went to war. England and our country have not been 
 
 33
 
 of 
 
 spanked for their injustice they may be as time goes on; 
 but Kate and I got ours from whichever mother first 
 reached the scene of action. Day by day our fights went 
 on. These mothers constituted a kind of Hague tribunal 
 for the settlement of our affairs. Between Kate and 
 myself the "casus belli" was a pretty little green chair. 
 It belonged to Kate by right of possession. I saw no good 
 reason why it might not be mine by conquest. As a boy 
 I think I had a little the advantage in the matter of muscle, 
 but Kate had the advantage of age. Our battles were at 
 close range, nor was the conflict conducted in silence. If 
 I remember rightly, Kate did most of the screaming. When 
 it came to the punishment, Kate and I sang a duet. When 
 the chair was taken from us and hung upon a nail, we looked 
 at it, then we looked at each other, and both were satisfied 
 and went at some other mischief. 
 
 My first serious fright occurred about that time. Among 
 our family possessions to be disposed of was a fine flock of 
 geese. The time had come for their removal. I know 
 nothing of the purchaser, nor of the later history of the 
 geese, but the method of their capture has never faded from 
 my memory. A team was driven to our door I remember 
 the big, green wagon box, and how the men placed the 
 boards to cover it. I well remember the terrible conflict 
 which finally ended in the capture of the geese. Again and 
 again around the house the geese fled as best they might, and 
 around and around the house the men pursued them. 
 Those geese had wonderful command of language. I 
 could not understand it, but to me it was terrific. If I had 
 known of the Judgment Day, I think I should have 
 
 34
 
 thought that day had come. Such horrible screaming and 
 such clapping of wings were entirely too much for my 
 untutored nerves, and it was only when the geese pressed 
 their heads from their imprisonment in silence and the 
 wagon was gone from the door, and my mother's arms, 
 which had tightly held me, were released, that I slowly 
 came to my former self. 
 
 Our people, on their way to Michigan, had reached Lock- 
 port, and while the boat was passing through the lock it 
 was the custom for those who could to leave the boat and 
 walk up an incline on the tow-path. Dear old Aunt Lucy 
 Day, the mother of a family of eight well-grown children, 
 who formed a part of our colony, consented to sit on deck 
 and hold me in her arms while the boat was passing through. 
 When the water from the lock came plunging and foaming 
 and the boat was tossed from side to side as though it were 
 but a shell, my terror began. That mother's arms had 
 cuddled seven sturdy boys, as only a mother's arms can, 
 but this was a new experience. I know not how hard I 
 struggled nor how loudly I screamed; I know that I was 
 frightened for all there was in me. In later days good 
 Auntie Day told me that this was the supreme effort of her 
 life, and that she really thought for a while I would break 
 from her arms and go overboard. 
 
 At a little later time I should have been frightened when 
 I was not. It was a case where ignorance was bliss and it 
 was folly to be wise. My uncle, Addison Chamberlin, and 
 my father, had located their farms a half mile apart, and a 
 dense woodland lay between. It was the height of my 
 happiness to visit my Aunt Lydia, and I was never ready 
 
 35
 
 of 
 
 to leave her until I was sent home. I was then nearly six 
 years old. The twilight was coming on, but the moon was 
 in full. I was midway in the wood, following a well-cleared 
 road, when I heard the loping, as I supposed, of a dog be- 
 longing to a neighbor, with whose hunting hounds I was 
 very familiar. I whistled and called the animal to come to 
 me. Just then in an open space he came in full view, drop- 
 ping upon his haunches, lapping with his tongue and 
 panting as though he had been running. In that dim light 
 he looked strange to me, and as I continued my call he 
 turned suddenly and with a lope was soon hidden from my 
 view. Just then my father's voice reverberated through 
 the woods, calling me by name. I hastened home, and was 
 duly reprimanded for being out so late. A few moments 
 later and the familiar howl of a wolf was heard in the dense 
 swamp that lay not far from the roadside where I had been, 
 and into which my strange dog had gone. Soon there came 
 a responsive wolf-howl far away. Nearer and nearer they 
 were heard until the two were united. There were ominous 
 glances from parental eyes and shaking of heads which I 
 still remember. 
 
 From my own experience I learned never to promise a 
 child anything unless I was prepared to fulfill it to the letter. 
 When I was about five years old, there was a quilting at our 
 house and the women ran short of thread. My Aunt 
 Julia, later my first school-teacher, said to me that if I would 
 run down to a neighbor a quarter of a mile away and bring 
 a spool of thread, she would give me a sixpence. Be it 
 remembered that in that early time nickels and dimes were 
 yet unknown. Time went on, but I remembered that my 
 
 36
 
 <lHl&iioot) iHmioric B 
 
 Aunt Julia had promised me a sixpence. Winter came, and 
 one evening when a jolly party was out for a sleigh ride they 
 came to our fireside for a warm-up. Aunt Julia was one of 
 that party. I remember the little black mitten which she 
 took off, and just how she jingled out a bright sixpence 
 and handed it to me. It was the first money I ever earned. 
 I have remembered it through all the years; not so much 
 for its money value, I think, but from the fact that she 
 promised me the sixpence and didn't forget it. 
 
 I equally well remember another promise which was made 
 to me about the same time, but never fulfilled, and never 
 forgotten. A Frenchman who owned a sawmill had pre- 
 viously located not far from our settlement and was the 
 owner of a large drove of Indian ponies, which roamed at 
 large and which often crossed our roadway. One evening 
 as he was paying our people a neighborly visit he took me 
 upon his knee and, with the politeness peculiar to his people, 
 he promised to give me a pony. From that time on I never 
 passed that drove of ponies but that I wondered which of 
 those ponies was to be mine. Time went on when, one 
 evening as I was returning home from my first school, I 
 met the Frenchman in the road, and I said to him, for I 
 had been taught to be polite, "Mr. Trombley, will you 
 please give me my pony? " He said something in French, so 
 emphatically that it is probably well that I did not under- 
 stand him. It was now a matter between him and myself 
 and as our environments were changed he wasn't a bit 
 polite. Others may have had a like experience, but I never 
 got the pony nor forgot the promise. 
 
 To these I must add one more of my childhood memories 
 
 37
 
 of ij$tp 
 
 one so sad and so deeply graven on my heart that time has 
 had no power to efface it. It was that of the "little boy that 
 was lost," my first little schoolmate, Alanson Finch. The 
 first schoolhouse in our new settlement, now called Romeo, 
 was built in 1828. Gideon Gates had taught the first winter 
 school, and my Aunt Julia had followed him and had just 
 opened the first summer term. Alanson Finch was my seat- 
 mate. He was about six years old, and I a little younger. 
 We were very chummy, as little boys often are, and at recess 
 we always played together. A little natural lawn lay 
 between the schoolhouse and a little brook near by. It 
 was springtime, and we found that by digging with our 
 little hands a foot or so beneath the sod, water would 
 flow in and give us real, live little wells. With strings 
 attached to little billets of wood we improvised little 
 buckets for drawing water. I don't remember the con- 
 dition of our hands when called from recess back to school 
 but presume that other boys and other teachers have had 
 a like experience. From the days of Cain until now I think 
 it has been the delight of older boys to bother the little 
 ones, and we were the little ones. Older boys would take 
 round sticks of wood of the proper size and drive them so 
 firmly into our little wells that we could not pull them 
 out. Our last effort was successful. As we dug we carefully 
 threw the dirt into the brook and covered our wells with a 
 slab of wood. As the spring opened there was a real freshet 
 and the roads were so intolerable that the school was 
 adjourned for two weeks; and on a Friday night Alanson 
 and I parted company, taking our last look at the little well. 
 Old Mr. Finch, the father of a large family, of which 
 
 38
 
 Alanson was the youngest, lived a quarter of a mile away 
 from the schoolhouse, and upon the rear end of his farm 
 there was a fine forest of maple trees. The men were now 
 busy making sugar. On Saturday following the closing of 
 the school, Alanson and Addison, his next older brother, 
 spent the day in the sugar bush. Towards night the little 
 boys were sent home. About midway the path which led 
 through a dense poplar grove divided, one branch leading 
 to the home and the other to the schoolhouse. Evidently 
 to see his little well, Alanson took the one leading to the 
 schoolhouse. Addison refused to go with him and each went 
 his way. At the supper table, inquiry was made for 
 Alanson. No answer was made, as the evening came on, to 
 the shouting of voices and the firing of guns. A bonfire was 
 quickly kindled, every home in the settlement was visited, 
 and yet no tidings. The next day the whole settlement was 
 astir. My father, who was then colonel of militia, organ- 
 ized men and women into hunting bands, and mapped out 
 districts for a systematic search. People came from a 
 distance and united in this search. Two full weeks were 
 given to the effort, which was continued many miles 
 around, and then the little boy was given up for lost, and 
 never was there word heard of him afterwards. His aged 
 parents were overborne with grief, and within less than a 
 year both were numbered with the dead. The final conclu- 
 sion was that Alanson had been stolen by some of the roving 
 bands of Indians, between whom and the older Finch boys 
 there had been trouble, caused by the alleged stealing of In- 
 dian ponies. The stories of that search rang in my ears for 
 many years and were the source of many troubled dreams. 
 
 39
 
 CHAPTER V 
 SCHOOLS AND TEACHERS 
 
 T DO not know when I first learned to read. I remember 
 * to have surprised my father by demonstrating the fact 
 when I could count a hundred. I could read quite well 
 when I first went to school, and when eight years old was in 
 the class with the oldest ones, and stood up by one on a stool 
 and read from the " English Reader, " now long out of date, 
 a copy of which was recently presented to me by a friend 
 at a cost of nine dollars. When six years old I had com- 
 mitted to memory, by my mother's dictation while I was 
 tumbling on the floor, the first three chapters of the Gospel 
 according to Matthew, to be recited in the Sunday school 
 which had just been organized in our town. Those chapters 
 are now more familiar to me than any writing that I have 
 memorized in later days. 
 
 Gideon Gates was the first school-teacher in Indian 
 Village, and by sufferance I was permitted to attend for one 
 day when I was five years old. It was not a day of comfort 
 for me. The boys were restive and turbulent. The 
 teacher seldom rose from his stool in the center of the little 
 room, and when he would reach out his long whip and give 
 a boy a whack over the head, I had something of the sensa- 
 tion I think I would now have in the midst of a menagerie 
 surrounded by wild beasts. For five successive years I 
 attended the district school taught in the winters by Messrs. 
 Prentiss, Hallock, Brown, Yates, Bailey, and Buzzell, and 
 
 40
 
 ano 
 
 in summers by Misses Julia Chamberlin, Sarah Baldwin, 
 Saphronia Ewell, and Emily Church. Then for one year I 
 was the pupil of Miss Jerusha Shaw, who taught a select 
 school in the audience room of the Congregational Church. 
 In the fall of the year 1835 an event occurred, when I 
 was eleven years old, which had much to do with my early 
 education. Mr. Ornon Archer, a recent graduate of Wil- 
 liams College, came to Romeo and founded the Romeo 
 Academy, which soon became one of the most noted schools 
 in the State and drew to it students from all parts of the 
 country. For three years he and his wife boarded in our 
 family, and I was thus under his immediate instruction. 
 During that three years mine was an unbroken course of 
 study under the best of supervision, while out of school 
 hours the chores and the woodpile gave me very few idle 
 moments Of these three years there is nothing marvelous to 
 relate. I suppose I was as boisterous and uncouth as boys 
 at that age usually are. I think I was just about an average 
 boy with a boy's crudities. I surely was spared the mis- 
 fortune of being considered a prodigy. In 1839, Mr. Archer 
 closed his relations with the Romeo Academy and the 
 school passed to other hands. During that summer Abner 
 Hollister, my father 's oldest brother, came West and visited 
 us. He proposed that I should go East and spend the 
 winter in the Jordan Academy, (conducted by Professor 
 Stowe), in company with his son, Cousin Abner, Jr., who in 
 age was six months my senior. This was my first experience 
 of life away from home, and do what I would, there some- 
 times came over me the dire sensation of homesickness. 
 I was now in my sixteenth year, and I found that I had a 
 
 41
 
 of 
 
 good many things to learn and not a few of them to un- 
 learn. I had to learn to take as well as give and had no one 
 to fall back on for counsel. It was then that the training in 
 the Romeo Academy came to my aid, for though I was the 
 wild and woolly boy of the West, at the final examinations 
 I had the good fortune to receive the highest prize with 
 the autograph and commendation of Professor Stowe. On 
 our return from Jordan to his home in Cato, I showed Uncle 
 Abner my embossed tablet with Professor Stowe 's letter. 
 He was much pleased, but as I stood and looked at him as 
 he read it I almost wished that it had been Abner 's. 
 
 The spring was at hand and I could ride on a canal boat 
 at a penny a mile and board; thus I made my way from 
 Cato to Rochester on my way home to Michigan. At 
 Rochester, Uncle George A. Hollister, my father's youngest 
 brother, had built up a large business, and was heavily 
 engaged in the lumber trade. The generous man he was, 
 made me the offer that if I would return in the fall I should 
 have a home in his family and a year's schooling in the 
 Rochester Collegiate Institute, then the most noted educa- 
 tional institution in western New York. Thus in October, 
 1840, while the whole country was going wild singing Whig 
 songs and drinking hard cider, I entered the Institute. I 
 had in mind fitting myself for teaching as a future employ- 
 ment. I saw no way of acquiring a profession, and I was 
 too poor to buy a farm. I had hardly entered the Institute 
 before I said to myself: "Here is my opportunity, and for 
 a year I will make the most of it." The Legislature of 
 New York, influenced by Horace Mann, had created a num- 
 ber of normal departments for the education of teachers, 
 
 42
 
 anfc 
 
 and this institution had secured one of them. While I 
 continued my classical studies I gave my full energies to 
 those in the Normal course, and went through thirty-three 
 weeks' session without missing a single recitation. Near 
 the close of the year, unbeknown to me, my uncle had a 
 conference with the preceptor, and as the result, my uncle 
 said it would be the wisest thing for me to remain another 
 year and complete the Normal course, and receive a State 
 certificate entitling me to teach anywhere in the State with- 
 out further examination. It seemed the opportunity of my 
 life; of course I stayed and received my certificate in due 
 form, and my school days were ended. 
 
 43
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 SCHOOL-TEACHING 
 
 AFTER an absence of nearly two years, I returned to 
 Michigan in the spring of 1842. The need of my 
 help had caused a pretty severe draft on my mother's 
 resources. I was not yet eighteen years old, and, while too 
 young to seek a permanent situation as a teacher, I must at 
 once do something to earn our daily bread. I determined 
 to seek a position for the following winter in a district 
 school not so far away but that I could be near enough to 
 lend a helping hand at home. By August a school such as 
 I desired had been secured, but it was eight miles away and 
 I could only reach my home by walking. There yet re- 
 mained four months before the school would open, and now 
 in good earnest I turned farmer. I hired a yoke of oxen, 
 a plow, and a harrow. Our home lot contained twelve acres. 
 Six of these were reserved for pasture, and the other six I 
 plowed, harrowed, and with my own hands sowed broad- 
 cast with wheat. When it came up I was complimented for 
 having sown it so evenly. I will forecast its history to say 
 that during the next season I cradled the wheat in due 
 time, threshed it in the barn with the flail, and had wheat 
 to sell. 
 
 My first winter's experiences were pretty severe so far 
 as physical endurance was concerned. The year 1842 was 
 long remembered as the hard winter, when deep snow was 
 on the ground from October i5th, the day my school opened, 
 
 44
 
 until the middle of the following April. A description of 
 my doings for a given two weeks is a sample of the winter 's 
 work. 
 
 I would rise on Monday morning at 5 o 'clock, and with 
 a bucksaw add to the pile of stove wood enough to last for 
 two weeks. At 6:30 a hot breakfast was in waiting. At 
 7 o 'clock I started on my eight-mile trip, and often had to 
 break the path where the snow was knee deep. I was 
 rarely a minute late at school, for I could do some good 
 running if it were necessary. At noon I ate a cold lunch 
 with the children. I "boarded 'round," and sometimes 
 walked from one to two miles after being on my feet all 
 day, for I could never teach while sitting down. During 
 the first week school continued on Saturday also, and I re- 
 mained in the district. On the following week it would 
 close on Friday night, and at 7 o 'clock of that evening I 
 was at my mother's supper table. The next morning I was 
 at the bucksaw again until breakfast time. Then I went 
 on the double-quick to my uncle's, a mile or more away, 
 and borrowed a yoke of oxen and sled and drew the girdled 
 timber, sled length, from the wheat lot to the house until, 
 at five o'clock, I had a formidable woodpile again. The 
 team returned, and supper ended, I spent two hours or more 
 with that bucksaw. Sunday was a day of rest and I knew 
 to the full what it meant. To be sure, there was church 
 service, morning, afternoon, and evening, but even singing 
 in the choir was rest. This history of one two weeks was a 
 sample of the others, with little variation. 
 
 I had very pleasant experiences in boarding 'round , some 
 of them very funny, which I shall not relate. It was a rich 
 
 45
 
 of 
 
 farming country, and of course I had the fat of the land, for 
 the schoolmaster was sure of the center cuts of all the best 
 things. My indoor experiences in the school were some- 
 what peculiar. Nineteen of my pupils were older than my- 
 self, and such had been the intermarriage of families that 
 by far the larger number of the children were cousins. Be- 
 sides, I had been advised by the school inspector that there 
 might be need of more or less despotic government, since the 
 big boys the whiter before had run the little teacher out- 
 doors because he could not "do the sums." Things went 
 well for a little while, when one morning a fellow two years 
 older than myself came in late, and in the center of the room, 
 started in upon a regular breakdown double-shuffle to 
 knock off the snow. What happened just then I cannot 
 explain. I remember I had him good and tight by the coat 
 collar, that he made a sudden whirl, and went into his seat 
 with a crash. He didn't say anything neither did I. 
 I went back to my work, and he to his, and the scholars 
 were taking long breaths again. Incidentally, as the boys 
 went out at recess I heard one of the smaller ones say to 
 another, "He'd kill us wouldn't he?" 
 
 Another incident occurred soon after which again put me 
 on my mettle. A girl, some eighteen years of age and over- 
 grown, had taken a seat belonging to one still older than 
 herself and refused to give it up. The one standing turned 
 to me and requested her seat. I said, "Certainly," and 
 requested big Mary to move along. She gave neither look 
 nor answer. I said, "Mary, take your seat." No re- 
 sponse. I said, "Mary, take your seat or I shall punish 
 you." She turned up her nose but made no move. I had 
 
 46
 
 a large ruler, some two feet long, the inheritance of some 
 former age, in hand. I gave her a blow as severe as I 
 thought safe upon her fat arm, which was covered by a 
 close sleeve. She quivered but did not stir. I raised my 
 hand for the second blow. At the instant, she made a 
 plunge for her own seat in the corner, and with a force that 
 made the house jar. That was the end of all trouble in 
 that school, as far as discipline was concerned. The fact 
 that I taught in that same school during the next winter 
 gave evidence that my efforts had been successful, and 
 those who before had been turbulent seemed proud of their 
 teacher, for they said they could not run him out. 
 
 It seems fitting, in this connection, to state that on Jan- 
 uary i, 1843, while teaching my first school, I changed my 
 purpose from being a teacher by profession to that of being a 
 physician. To this I will refer later under the head of 
 Medical Study. I only refer to it now to state that from 
 this time on, in connection with teaching, my spare time 
 was devoted to medical reading until my graduation five 
 years later. 
 
 During the following summer I worked on our little farm 
 and continued my medical reading. I returned to teach 
 for four months in the district where I had taught before. 
 
 My next venture was the summer district school in 
 Romeo. Though all else had changed, people and build- 
 ings having come and gone, yet it was the same old district 
 school, and only five minutes' walk from my home. 
 Following this I taught in the Philips district, six miles 
 northeast of Romeo, and was able to spend my Sabbath at 
 home. 
 
 47
 
 of 
 
 Of my attendance upon medical lectures I purpose to 
 speak later; suffice it here to say that as the medical 
 department of Michigan University had not yet been or- 
 ganized I had concluded to attend the Berkshire Medical 
 College, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. Its sessions com- 
 menced in August and concluded in November, thus en- 
 abling students to teach, or attend lectures elsewhere, dur- 
 ing the winter months. I arranged to return from Pitts- 
 field, Massachusetts, to Lima, New York, the old home of 
 my parents, and teach in the same place where both of my 
 parents had taught in a generation gone by. The parents 
 of several of my pupils had attended their schools in the 
 olden time. Of course there were many recitals of former 
 events in which I was deeply interested. The following 
 summer I read medicine with Drs. Smith and Lovejoy at 
 Riga, New York, and returned to Pittsfield for my second 
 course of lectures, and came again in time to teach the same 
 school a second winter. At the time of my graduation in 
 medicine, Lake Erie was frozen, there were no railroads 
 west of Buffalo, and my only route home would be long and 
 tedious by stage through Canada. I could save a winter's 
 wages and could best seek a medical location in the spring. 
 Here in the midst of friends, new and old, I spent the pleasant- 
 est term of all my teaching. We arranged for an evening 
 exhibition at the close of the term. It grew to be quite 
 an event; children and their parents were very happy in 
 what they deemed a great success. I closed this second 
 engagement with that school March 31, 1848, and then 
 the days of my school-teaching were ended. 
 
 4 8
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 MEDICAL STUDIES 
 
 I HAD returned to Michigan after concluding the Normal 
 course in the Rochester Collegiate Institute, fully intend- 
 ing to make teaching my profession. I could teach in 
 district schools, and in the meantime more fully prepare 
 myself for a professorship in some institution when my age 
 would warrant it. With this general plan in view I had 
 engaged in my first winter's school as before stated. At 
 that time Dr. J. P. Whitney who had been our family 
 physician for years, and for whom I had a very high regard, 
 took me in hand and we had several long conferences 
 together. His proposition was that I should abandon the 
 idea of a professorship and fit myself to enter the medical 
 profession. He was the most prominent physician in the 
 county, had a good library, and would offer me every facil- 
 ity. More and more it seemed to me that that course was 
 not only feasible, but an open door to a wider opportunity. 
 By means of the school-teaching in winter, and reading 
 during spare hours and summer months, I could pay my 
 way until the time should come for entering a medical 
 college. I canvassed the question for some weeks and my 
 mother seemed equally interested in the matter. I rea- 
 soned thus: I wasn't good enough to be a preacher nor 
 pugnacious enough to be a lawyer. I had not means to 
 set myself up in business, nor money enough to buy a 
 farm. The question narrowed itself down to this: "Shall 
 
 49
 
 of 
 
 I be a pedagogue or a doctor?" It was a turning point. 
 I chose the latter and on January i, 1843, I entered my 
 name as a medical student with Dr. Whitney. This 
 course I pursued for three years, teaching school each 
 winter, and then left home to attend lectures at the Berk- 
 shire Medical College, Pittsfield, Massachusetts. There 
 were several reasons for choosing this institution. First, 
 negatively, the medical department of Michigan University 
 had not yet been organized, or I should probably have 
 gone there. Secondly, I was very fond of Dr. Chester 
 Dewey, President of Rochester Collegiate Institute, and 
 he was Professor of Chemistry also in the Berkshire School. 
 Thirdly, the medical lectures commenced August ist and 
 closed November i5th. This would give me an opportu- 
 nity to teach during the winter months. Finally, Berk- 
 shire County was the birthplace of my grandparents and 
 there were many homes in which I would find a hearty 
 welcome. I left Romeo July 10, 1846, and on my birth- 
 day, August 5th, heard my first medical lecture, an open- 
 ing address by Prof. Alonzo Clark, the famous pathologist 
 of New York, to whose invaluable lectures I was permitted 
 to listen for two successive years. At the close of my first 
 course of lectures I returned to Lima, New York, as I have 
 stated, and taught school. At the end of the term I went over 
 to Riga, the town where I was born, and read medicine with 
 Dr. John R. Smith, whose wife was a cousin of my mother, 
 and where I met a most hospitable reception. Here I pulver- 
 ized Spanish flies, compounded pills, made up mixtures and 
 kept the doctor's saddle bags well supplied. I also rode 
 with him, and at the bedside of patients looked the wisest 
 
 so
 
 I knew how. I am inclined to digress from my story a 
 little and state that in August I laid down my books and 
 went into the harvest field, and for eighteen days cradled 
 wheat at a dollar and a half a day. There were five 
 cradlers in the gang, and I soon caught on to the fact from 
 their sly winks that they intended to "bush" the young 
 doctor. But as I have said, I had cradled wheat before, 
 but of this I said nothing. I simply took my swath, and, 
 as good luck would have it, I had the best cutting scythe 
 of the lot, which in the long throws would hold its edge to 
 the end. I had been crowded a few times when it came 
 my turn to follow the leader. I cleaned my clip even with 
 his until near the end, and then cut him clean out of his 
 swath. To be honest, his cradle was probably at fault. 
 I had to try my hand with another fellow, and with the 
 same result. After that I was a jolly good fellow and every- 
 thing went smoothly. I may further state that with that 
 twenty-seven dollars I had a dress coat made, about as 
 nice as any I have ever worn since. In it I graduated, and 
 later in it I was married. 
 
 During this summer the question of finance was daily 
 in mind, and caused me some sleepless nights. I had not 
 in hand the means to pay for my board and second course 
 of lectures. I may say that at this time I was carefully 
 considering my mother's needs also, and that from my 
 earnings in Lima, I sent her twenty dollars the first winter, 
 and during the second, thirty dollars. This leads me also 
 to speak of wages. The first two winters I received 
 fifteen dollars a month and board; the third winter in 
 Michigan, sixteen dollars. In Lima, the first winter,
 
 of 
 
 eighteen dollars, the second winter twenty dollars; but 
 dollars sixty years ago went a long ways. I was debating 
 in my own mind the question of turning aside and teaching 
 for one or two years, and then of graduating at Phila- 
 delphia, which would be the height of my ambition. I 
 finally opened my heart to Dr. Smith and sought his 
 advice. Soon, unbeknown to me, Dr. Smith went to 
 Rochester, ostensibly on business, but really to confer 
 with Uncle George Hollister, my former benefactor. Dr. 
 Smith's advice to me was: "Borrow the money, get into the 
 profession as early as you can, and you can soon pay it back." 
 Upon Dr. Smith's return he said he had hardly time to 
 open the case when uncle interrupted and said: "Of 
 course, I'll lend John the money and it is ready any time." 
 I went to Pittsfield with a glad heart, debtor as I was to my 
 uncle, and graduated November 7, 1847. The day I 
 passed the "green room" I spent at Hinsdale with a party 
 of young people with whom I took a ramble for berries 
 through fields and woodland. There was not a ten-rail 
 fence in sight over which I could not leap without a trip, 
 especially as I was one of three to read my thesis in public. 
 Does any doctor ever forget the day when he passed the 
 "green room "? As before stated, Lake Erie was closed, no 
 railroad ran west of Buffalo, and to go West was impracti- 
 cable. So I returned to Lima and taught there for a 
 second winter.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 SEEKING A LOCATION 
 
 li/TY school in Lima having closed, there yet remained 
 +** two full weeks before the opening of navigation on 
 Lake Erie. I could have spent the time pleasantly visit- 
 ing with friends there and in Rochester, but there was a 
 chance to earn an honest penny and I was on the lookout 
 for such. I bargained with my cousin, Mr. Alexander 
 Parmlee to fell trees and cut off logs for rail timber. I 
 received in payment fifty cents a day and board, and several 
 blisters on my hands besides. I worked for him twelve 
 days, and with the six dollars, two weeks later in Roches- 
 ter, I purchased the two standard volumes of Miller's 
 Principle and Practice of Surgery. These I still possess 
 as relics of both a shipwreck and the Chicago fire. 
 
 News came that the lake was open and I started for the 
 West. I boarded the steamer Oregon at Buffalo, on the even- 
 ing of April 1 8, 1848. Hardly had we been two hours on our 
 way when a regular hurricane from the northeast struck us, 
 and soon our smokestack broke from its mooring and fell 
 with a fearful crash upon the upper deck. The flames from 
 the furnace shot up twenty feet in the air, and in the blind- 
 ing darkness of the night it seemed as though the whole ship 
 was on fire. I shall never forget how heroically the mate, 
 Harry Miller, who later became one of the most noted 
 captains on the lake, grasped a hose pipe just at hand and 
 turned a stream of water into the furnace below, and 
 
 S3
 
 of igfjtp !fear 
 
 almost instantly had the fire under control. Then, too, 
 the rudder chain broke, and we were rolling utterly help- 
 less in the troughs of the sea. An attempt was made to 
 run up a small foresail. It was caught by the wind and 
 torn to shreds. There were about forty cabin passengers, 
 and added to a seeming impending horror was the fact 
 that one hundred emigrants were stowed away between 
 decks, their shrieks and howling outclassing those of as 
 many wild beasts. At last our anchors caught and held 
 us, just as we seemed to be running upon those high clay 
 banks near Cleveland, and there we outrode the storm, and 
 then were towed into port. It took nerve to take another 
 steamer the following evening and start for Detroit, but 
 there was no alternative, and in another day, after an 
 absence of nearly two years, I was again at the old home 
 in Romeo. The next day I drove to Pontiac, twenty miles 
 away, to meet my Jenny Windiate, to whom I had been 
 engaged for nearly three years. We were married nearly 
 sixty years ago, and as I write she is sitting by my side. 
 
 Closing this long prelude, I come now to the subject of 
 my story. Up to this time I had not the least idea as to 
 where I would commence medical practice. I had a 
 favorable word from Racine, in Wisconsin, but my means 
 would not justify a removal beyond the Lake. I had 
 decided to look for a place not far away and, if it did not 
 prove to my liking, bide my time there until I should be 
 able to choose a permanent location. Having this in view 
 I hired a good saddle horse and visited six county sites 
 while crossing the State of Michigan, but in not one of 
 these did I find an acceptable opening. There seemed in 
 
 54
 
 a location 
 
 each a surplus of doctors of all sorts, sizes and creeds. I 
 reached DeWitt, Clinton County, and another day's 
 ride would bring me to Otisco, where Dr. Levi Day, an 
 associate of mine when reading with Dr. Whitney, was 
 located. I arrived at his home at ten o'clock on one of the 
 darkest nights I have ever known. A day's conference 
 brought this result: that I should locate with him. We 
 were to share the proceeds of our practice equally. He was 
 to go to Cleveland in the winter and graduate, as he was 
 longing to do. Matters at once took shape. I could here, 
 in this thriving newly settled country get the initial expe- 
 rience which in the absence of clinical teaching I had been 
 unable to acquire and also add to my limited stock of ready 
 means. I lost no time but traveled back across the state 
 with a feeling of content such as I had hardly ever before 
 known. I met Jenny at her home. We set the date 
 for our marriage and the next day I was in Romeo, after 
 two weeks in the saddle. Affairs at home were quickly 
 arranged. I procured a splendid riding beast, as balky 
 as she was good. I bought her for that reason for fifty 
 dollars, and gave my note, due two years later with interest 
 in payment. An ingenious harness maker had made for me 
 an extra nice pair of saddle bags and with this outfit to be 
 completed at Pontiac, where my brother Harvey was engaged 
 in a drug store, I started out without as much knowledge 
 of my profession as I could have desired but bound to 
 succeed. I reached Otisco, Ionia County, Michigan, 
 May 15, 1848. The next day I made my first professional 
 visit. My patient was a muscular ten-year-old boy who 
 was supposed to be poisoned by eating a noxious weed. 
 
 55
 
 of igljtp tfearg 
 
 I held him down by main force and gave him a double 
 dose of ipecac. I had been in town only two weeks when 
 I was waited upon by a committee of farmers and was 
 requested to prepare and read a series of toasts at a general 
 celebration on the 4th of July just at hand, which I did, 
 the exercises being held in a barn. I felt quite set up on 
 that occasion when I heard that boy's father say to a 
 neighbor: "That doctor saved my boy's life." It was the 
 prelude to other calls, and the crisis was passed.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 COUNTRY PRACTICE 
 
 I THINK few young physicians fail to remember the 
 varied experiences connected with their first year of 
 medical practice. I surely well remember mine. Not 
 having had the benefit of clinical instruction, for such was 
 not afforded by the medical colleges sixty years ago, I was 
 often thrown upon my own resources in the translation 
 of teachings and books into actual practice, especially as I 
 often had to prescribe for patients at a distance from home, 
 and with no possibility for consultation. During the 
 summer and autumn of 1848 the diseases which I met 
 at Otisco were nearly all of the malarial type. Four miles 
 distant several sawmills had recently been erected and 
 new land had been overflowed, and the drawing down of 
 these ponds every day caused malarial exhalations that 
 bred disease in every direction. Besides, the entire farming 
 region was being rapidly converted into cultivated fields, 
 and the upturning of the virgin soil was an equal menace 
 to the general health. Hardly a home but had its invalids, 
 and the calls for medical treatment were as numerous as 
 the most ambitious doctor could desire. It was years 
 later that Laveran, of Italy, discovered that Plasmodium 
 malariae was the cause of all this trouble and that quinine 
 would kill the invader. I then only knew that quinine 
 would cure ague, but was entirely ignorant of the why. 
 But for my practical purpose the result was sufficient. For 
 
 57
 
 of 
 
 two hundred years the "Jesuit bark," named for its dis- 
 coverer, and later known as "Peruvian bark," indicating 
 the source of supply, and later as quinine, the active prin- 
 ciple, had been used empirically until the discovery made 
 by Laveran only twenty years ago. 
 
 Nearly all of the diseases which I was first called upon to 
 treat yielded so promptly that my reputation as a young 
 practitioner fresh from the schools, grew in favor as rapidly 
 as I could have desired, and I myself began to harbor the 
 impression that I was quite a remarkable physician and 
 could cure nearly everybody that came within my reach. 
 But when the winter came, and when one and another of 
 my patients dropped away with acute pneumonia, and a 
 severe epidemic of brain fever, as it was then called, 
 invaded our settlement and suddenly took from us a number 
 of our most prominent citizens, both old and young, I was 
 not long in coming down from my high perch, and began 
 to doubt whether I could cure anybody. Dr. Day was now 
 in Cleveland attending medical lectures, and I had the field 
 all to myself, save as I could summon counsel from Ionia, 
 seventeen miles distant. Still, keeping my counsel well 
 to myself, I was able to hold my footing, and much to my 
 surprise the people had more confidence hi me than I had 
 in myself. I surely served them as best I knew, and was 
 grateful for their fidelity. I have been engaged in medical 
 practice for sixty years since then, and during that period 
 have treated many thousands of patients, but never since 
 have I been so elated as during that first summer, nor so 
 distrustful of myself as during that first winter. I flatter 
 myself in looking back over this long period that a vast 
 
 58
 
 Cotmtrp practice 
 
 number of my patients were returned to health through 
 my agency. Just how many recovered in spite of it I have 
 never been able to determine. I have this to say in passing, 
 that the young physician in the city who can at once 
 summon the aid of an able consultant, and with him 
 divide the responsibility in the treatment of critical cases, 
 knows nothing of the trying ordeal which confronts the 
 country doctor. But such experiences are not without 
 their compensations. Thrown back upon his own re- 
 sources he develops a sturdy self-reliance which could 
 be acquired in no other way, and many a suggestion which 
 has been a help to me through life came from the lips 
 of a rough and rugged country doctor. 
 
 Who but cherishes a tender regard for Dr. Ephraim 
 McDowell, who in that little hamlet of Danville, Kentucky, 
 single-handed and alone, performed the first ovariotomy 
 of which there is any record in the annals of surgery; or who, 
 like Sims, fought his way from the rounds of a country 
 practice to one of the foremost positions in the world as a 
 gynecologist? It was Jenner, a country doctor, who gave 
 us the boon of vaccine. It was Williams, who from being a 
 country doctor, became the foremost pathologist of his time 
 in England. And so the list could be extended almost 
 indefinitely of those who came to eminence from places of 
 comparative obscurity. Not a word of disparagement for 
 those who have every advantage for clinical instruction 
 and the command of able consultants. But the real fibre 
 of the man is surely found in the country doctor. 
 
 During the first year I had quite an extended obstetrical 
 practice, and some cases that put my mettle to the test, but 
 
 59
 
 of 
 
 I since think that I was then wise in not being over-officious, 
 as the outcome was satisfactory. 
 
 A country physician twenty miles away from home, in 
 the selection of remedies is limited to the contents of his 
 saddle bags, and a doctor called from such a distance is 
 expected to do something. I had thus been called and 
 of course I must do. The case was that of a little boy who 
 had been bitten by a venomous snake. In all that region 
 whiskey was a popular remedy for snake bites, and of 
 course I prescribed whiskey. The old fellows gathered from 
 the entire neighborhood, and those who were familiar with 
 that article heartily endorsed my prescription, and agreed 
 that the young doctor was up to date on snakes. But it 
 occurred to me that something more must be done, since 
 I had come twenty miles, and the neighbors could have 
 prescribed whiskey without any help from me. So I 
 ransacked my brain to select from my saddle bags some- 
 thing a little above their comprehension. It was purely 
 a matter of accident that I hit upon a bottle containing 
 aqua ammonia and sweet oil. Its repeated application 
 would give the people something to do, and the fumes of 
 the ammonia would convince them that it was something 
 "mighty powerful." That snake bite gave me the business 
 of that neighborhood. But the real point is this: the Lon- 
 don Lancet some thirty years later quoted at length an 
 article from an East India journal stating that in the 
 treatment of snake bites, the external application of the 
 spirits of ammonia had proved to be one of the most 
 serviceable remedies. I had prescribed better than I 
 knew. 
 
 60
 
 Country practice 
 
 Sixty years have elapsed since that time. I have passed 
 through many and varied experiences in a city which 
 numbered sixty thousand when I came to it and now 
 contains over two million inhabitants. I have been familiar 
 with all phases of city practice, with hospitals and medical 
 teachings, and all these experiences are pleasant memories; 
 but in all this time I have never forgotten my crude and 
 sometimes amusing experiences during my first year's 
 practice as a country doctor. 
 
 61
 
 CHAPTER X 
 MARRIAGE AND SETTLEMENT 
 
 MY engagement with Dr. Day contemplated but a 
 single year's residence in Otisco, a newly opened 
 hamlet in Ionia County, Michigan, and of course it was a 
 matter of serious consideration as to where I should locate 
 permanently. In the early summer, in company with the 
 doctor, I visited Grand Rapids, some twenty miles from 
 Otisco, to recruit our stock of medicine. Though to-day 
 Grand Rapids numbers more than one hundred thousand 
 inhabitants and is the second city in the state, it then 
 numbered but about twelve hundred residents all told. Its 
 nearest railroad approach was forty miles away. At that 
 early day it had the tidy and thrifty appearance of a typical 
 New England village. I was strongly impressed that if I 
 could gain a footing there it would prove just the place 
 for which I had been looking. I visited the village a 
 month later and had a confidential talk with the leading 
 druggist at that place. He had fitted up one of the finest 
 stores to be found in the State. We had opened quite a trade 
 with him during the summer; our bills had been promptly 
 paid and he seemed to take kindly to me. I made a few 
 inquiries as to rent and the cost of living, and returned to 
 Otisco with my mind made up to make Grand Rapids my 
 home. My summer experience had not as yet suffered its 
 later trials, but had so developed my courage that, doctor 
 or no doctors to be my competitors, patients or no patients 
 
 62
 
 Carriage attfc Settlement 
 
 to be my patrons, I was willing to take my chances at 
 Grand Rapids when my contract with Dr. Day should 
 terminate. My plans now began to take definite shape. 
 In September I made a hurried ride across the state and 
 met Jenny Windiate at her home at Drayton Plains. We 
 fixed the date for our marriage in the following January. 
 I then went to Romeo and conferred with mother with refer- 
 ence to the sale of our home there and her removal to 
 Grand Rapids. I returned immediately to Otisco and 
 resumed medical practice while Dr. Day was in Cleveland 
 attending medical lectures, as had been stipulated. In 
 December I arranged with Dr. Fallas, a neighboring physi- 
 cian, to take my place while I went home to be married. 
 After three years of engagement our marriage was con- 
 summated at Drayton Plains, January 2, 1849, R CV - 
 Dr. Wilson of Pontiac officiating. A merry company 
 from Romeo, with friends of Miss Windiate, joined in giving 
 their most cordial congratulations. We went with our 
 friends to Romeo and I remained at the old homestead for 
 six weeks, when my Otisco engagement called me thence. 
 As it was midwinter and there were no public conveyances 
 across the state, we thought it best that Jenny, for the 
 time, should remain with mother, while they and I should 
 be perfecting our plans for removal to Grand Rapids. On 
 May i, 1849, a t the conclusion of my engagement with Dr. 
 Day, I returned to Romeo and was ready to negotiate a 
 cash sale of our home, possession to be given the following 
 September, and arrange for our permanent removal at that 
 date. Again leaving Jenny and mother at the home, I 
 recrossed the state to Otisco, this being my seventh journey 
 
 63
 
 of 
 
 over that route on horseback. I closed up business matters 
 as best I could; sold my balky mare to Dr. Fallas, who had 
 arranged to take my place with Dr. Day, purchased a splen- 
 did driving horse, and was ready to go to Grand Rapids. On 
 the i ith of June, 1849, 1 l fi f t Otisco and put up that night at 
 the National Hotel, kept by Canton Smith, in Grand Rapids. 
 I at once set about securing a desirable location in which 
 to open up my office. It was my good fortune, in this 
 land of strangers, to make an early call upon Mr. William 
 G. Henry, then the most prominent justice of the peace in 
 town. I was able to secure an office in his suite of rooms, 
 and better yet, to obtain board in his own family as a 
 private boarder. Theirs was one of the most prominent 
 families in the place. Our acquaintance was from the first 
 congenial, and their influence in my behalf was most help- 
 ful. The first patient for whom I prescribed was their 
 daughter Nettie, a sweet little girl eight years of age. I 
 may say that later she was the wife of General Alger, who 
 became Governor of Michigan, then Secretary of War, 
 and finally United States Senator. Though I had some 
 homesick days at first, prospects seemed to brighten, and 
 slowly I began to build a practice which in six years ful- 
 filled my first hope. The principal of a young ladies' 
 private school was suddenly married, when I had been 
 there two months, and the vacancy had to be filled. I 
 conferred with Mrs. Henry, and through her influence my 
 sister Jeannette came at once to supply it. That position 
 she filled with marked success, and remained with us as a 
 teacher until her marriage with Mr. William M. Ferry of 
 Grand Haven, Michigan. 
 
 6 4
 
 aiifc Settlement 
 
 The final removal from Romeo was made in September, 
 and in a neat little cottage we were soon duly installed at 
 the modest rental of sixty-five dollars a year, and quite on a 
 par with our neighbors; but that was sixty years ago, the 
 days of small beginnings. During the summer months 
 Jenny, my wife, had been at her old home with her brother 
 and sister, and there she met with an accident, and was 
 so severely injured that it was not prudent for her to make 
 the journey until November, as there was some forty miles 
 of staging between Grand Rapids and the nearest railroad 
 point. But the change was then successfully made, and 
 on Thanksgiving Day, 1849, we sat at our own table, a 
 happy family, Jenny, mother, Sister Jeannette and myself. 
 To the development of my medical practice I gave most 
 asiduous effort, making rides twenty miles and more away 
 and also gaining a desirable practice in town. In 1850 we 
 were able to purchase a desirable house and lot on Fulton 
 Street, and at a second purchase an adjoining lot was 
 secured, thus giving us a frontage of one hundred feet by one 
 hundred and fifty feet. We had so far beautified the garden 
 the following year that it became one of the attractions in 
 the town, in the way of flowers, shrubs, and vegetables. 
 
 During the year 1851 my brother Harvey James, who had 
 been a drug clerk, came to occupy a position in a dry goods 
 store with Mr. William H. McConnell. Soon a clerkship 
 was offered in a drug store, where he remained for a year. 
 In the meantime Mr. Daniel Ball was organizing the first 
 bank to be opened in the place, and as the result of a fine 
 offer brother Harvey became his clerk and cashier. When 
 the First National Bank was organized he became its 
 
 65
 
 of igf)tp Ifearg 
 
 cashier and one of its directors, and there on that identical 
 corner where the first bank was located for fifty-six years, 
 from 1852 to the present date, 1908, he has been cashier, 
 leading director, and vice-president. Beginning with a 
 capital of twenty-five thousand dollars, the stock of that 
 bank from time to time has been increased, and now with 
 its surplus amounts to over two millions of dollars. 
 
 The special event in our history at that date was the 
 advent of a beautiful baby boy, to whom we gave the name 
 John Emmett. John was the name of our first ancestor 
 and of his eldest son. It was the name of my father, and 
 it was my name also. Emmett Hollister of Rochester, 
 New York, was my favorite cousin. So much for name's 
 sake. Johnnie became an active little fellow and we all 
 loved him dearly. Of him I shall speak later. 
 
 In six years my first hope had been realized. Our village 
 had become a city of two thousand inhabitants, and it was 
 evident that we should soon be in direct railroad communi- 
 cation with the outside world. Here, by close attention to 
 my profession, I could acquire a comfortable competence, 
 but in a comparatively limited field. I was conscious of a 
 constantly increasing desire to be so located as to be in 
 touch with a superior class of medical men, with hospitals, 
 and with medical societies. Railroad connections were 
 now established between Chicago and the East, and that 
 city was now forging ahead by leaps and bounds. It 
 seemed to me the time and the place to realize my desire. 
 In 1854 I came to Chicago and conferred with a few 
 physicians whom I had known, and determined to make 
 my home in Chicago as soon as the change could be effected. 
 
 66
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 REMOVAL TO CHICAGO 
 
 WE closed our home in Grand Rapids, April 10, 1855, 
 having sold it to my brother Harvey, with whom 
 our mother was to reside during that summer, while my 
 wife and Johnnie were to be with her sister, Mrs. Townsend 
 of Battle Creek, Michigan, until I could make provision 
 for a home in Chicago. It was not without misgiving that 
 I was relinquishing a sure thing for an uncertainty. I was 
 laying down an active practice to build again anew, and 
 that among strangers, and in a city where competition 
 was sure to be most strenuous. During the summer I 
 procured day board at the Matteson House, and roomed 
 in connection with my office, which was located in Metro- 
 politan Hall. In October Jenny joined me and we boarded 
 with Mr. Rufus Hatch, later a prominent banker in New 
 York City. In 1856 I purchased a lot and built a pretty 
 cottage at 192 West Washington Street, and again we 
 resumed housekeeping. The West side was rapidly 
 growing in population and I was soon able to secure a very 
 satisfactory medical practice. Our home to us was very 
 pleasant, and many of our former friends in their coming 
 and going were our welcome guests. 
 
 Here, on May i, 1858, we met our first great sorrow. 
 Our dear little boy had "suffered severely from whooping 
 cough. This was followed by a fatal attack of cerebro- 
 spinal meningitis. The light of our home went out, and 
 
 67
 
 ie^ of <i$)tp fears 
 
 we were childless. He had gladdened our hearts for five 
 years. Such grief is only known by those with like expe- 
 rience. Yet, stricken as we were, we were able to say, 
 "Thy will be done." 
 
 A year later little Nettie was born to us, but was ours 
 only for a single month, when she too was bidden home, and 
 for a second time we were childless and our home was 
 desolate. 
 
 As I came to know the city better I was confident that 
 in the end a location in the South division would prove 
 most desirable for a permanent home. So, having rented 
 our house, for a year we took rooms and boarded at the 
 Stewart House, corner Washington and State streets, and 
 here our daughter Belle was born. 
 
 In 1864 I sold my West side home and purchased one 
 known as 30 East Washington Street. It was in a brick 
 block, with a frontage of twenty-three and one half feet, and 
 a depth of one hundred and twenty-five feet. The house was 
 three stories and basement, with a brick barn in the rear. 
 The cost was eight thousand five hundred dollars. Three 
 years later, without much thought, I was induced to put 
 upon it a price of fourteen thousand dollars and its free use 
 for two years, and it was taken before I had time for second 
 thought. That property is now valued at eight thousand 
 a front foot, but that was nearly fifty years ago and was 
 considered at that time a good sale. This led to the pur- 
 chase of three hundred and fourteen feet on Rhodes Avenue 
 at fifty dollars per front foot. In 1868 I built the house, 
 number 3426 Rhodes Avenue, intending to make this our 
 permanent home, but, suffering from a severe accident 
 
 68
 
 ftcmobai to Chicago 
 
 which imperiled my life, I was obliged to suspend business 
 entirely and seek a residence in a milder climate. I sold 
 the house and sixty feet of ground, taking in part a house 
 to be constructed for me at Riverside. The fall from 
 which I suffered occurred in April, 1869. For two months 
 I was by the physicians considered to be in a very critical 
 condition, but, slowly recovering, it was deemed desirable 
 that I should be conveyed to a cooler climate, and was 
 removed to Mackinaw. I went from Chicago one day 
 when the thermometer registered 102 in the shade. I 
 was hardly better in November when we decided to spend 
 the winter in Louisiana. I returned to Riverside somewhat 
 improved, and we occupied our new home there in April, 
 1870. While living at Riverside the Chicago fire occurred, 
 on the gth of October, 1871, in which my library, contain- 
 ing twelve hundred volumes, my medical papers, my 
 instruments, and office furniture were consumed. Of all 
 my medical outfit only my pocket case, which I carried 
 with me, remained. My health was being slowly regained, 
 and I made an effort to do a little business, though my for- 
 mer patients were scattered far and wide. I opened an 
 office with Dr. Bingham on State Street, corner of Eigh- 
 teenth, at the south edge of the fire limit, and took board 
 for wife and Belle with Mrs. Heron, on Michigan Avenue, 
 near Twenty-second Street, for one year. Later, for two 
 years, we boarded at the Atherton House, then resumed 
 housekeeping for five years in the Follansbee Block, near 
 Twenty-second Street, and in 1879 we built another home 
 on Rhodes Avenue, on ground which I still hold, and is 
 known as 3430. Here we have lived from 1880. Here 
 
 69
 
 of igf)tp i earg 
 
 our daughter Belle was married to Dr. Franklin H. Martin, 
 May 27, 1886. Here our mother died, after a lingering 
 sickness, June 12, 1890, aged ninety-two years. Here 
 Jenny, my wife, suffered from the removal of a large 
 ovarian tumor in 1887, and again from a removal of a 
 portion of the large intestine in 1898. From each of these 
 operations she has made good recovery. Here we relin- 
 quished homekeeping, and in October, 1899, we began a 
 series of winter visits to California.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 FIFTY YEARS' MEDICAL PRACTICE IN 
 CHICAGO 
 
 T HAD graduated from the Berkshire Medical College 
 *- in 1847; one y ear f practice in Otisco and six years of 
 practice in Grand Rapids had prepared the way for my 
 permanent settlement in Chicago. It is the purpose of this 
 chapter to outline very briefly the manner in which, during 
 a half century, I have been engaged in medical and surgical 
 practice, in college lecturing and in clinical instruction in 
 the wards of the hospitals. My relations with medical 
 societies will require another chapter. For five years after 
 my arrival in Chicago my home was located at 192 West 
 Washington Street, while I also had an office on the South 
 side. The population in the West division was being rapid- 
 ly multiplied by new arrivals and a satisfactory local 
 practice began to develop from the first. An office down 
 town enabled me to make the acquaintance of, and come in 
 close touch with, the principal physicians of the city who 
 were located in like manner. 
 
 In 1862 it had become apparent that, looking forward to 
 future years, a residence in the South division would be 
 preferable. For the time it involved the surrender of a good 
 share of my family practice, although for several years 
 many of my best patrons continued to call me to the West 
 side. Though I shall have occasion later to speak of a 
 limited surgical experience, my preference had been to en- 
 
 71
 
 of <igf)tp 
 
 gage in the general family practice of medicine. This, in a 
 word, has been my purpose, steadily adhered to for over 
 fifty years. I rarely took time for a vacation, except for 
 attendance upon the meetings of State and National 
 societies, until within the last few years. I might write 
 a volume, were that my purpose, of matters pertaining to 
 family practice. Very near and dear, nay sacred, are 
 many of the relations that pertain to the family doctor 
 and his patients. My early records were all consumed in 
 the fire which occurred in 1871, but as nearly as I can esti- 
 mate with those that went before, and in connection with 
 subsequent ones, I have attended a little over two thousand 
 cases in confinement, and as I look back I wonder that re- 
 sults were as fortunate as they were. For forty years I 
 did not suspect the existence of a microbe. I knew only 
 too well the possibility of infection, but the manner of its 
 transmission was yet to be discovered. 
 
 I remember well when the stethoscope began to be 
 utilized in the study of diseases of the lungs. As late as 
 1855 Professor Brainard, in Rush Medical College, advised 
 students not to put too much trust in the revelations of the 
 microscope, saying: "I think if you have a fruitful 
 imagination you can find almost anything you are looking 
 for." But from then until now the advances in medicine 
 and surgery have been simply marvelous. In fact, during 
 this period any text-book ten years old, if not revised, is 
 not a competent authority. But I bear witness that in 
 my childhood days there were physicians not a few that 
 had a wisdom not written in the books. Their practice was 
 largely empirical, but nevertheless they were skillful in 
 
 72
 
 practice in 
 
 the handling of diseases. They could read more in a facial 
 expression than do many of the physicians of to-day. 
 Their general survey took in the essential organs, and this 
 general knowledge gave them a decided advantage over 
 many a specialist now in practice. Specialists are a neces- 
 sity and are not to be ruled out, but for the all-round needs 
 of the family the old family doctor will have the last smile. 
 He may disappear for the time, but he will come back again, 
 and when he does he will come to stay. 
 
 Limited as were the former facilities, no physician 
 worthy the name but has witnessed with delight the 
 rapid advancement made during the last twenty-five 
 years. The mysteries of infection during that time have 
 been solved. Preventive medicine has become the chief 
 vocation. Asepsis renders antisepsis needless. The pain 
 which comes with the knife is no longer a dread, and the 
 average of life is every year extended. Though knowledge 
 be increased and the superabundance of wealth is becoming 
 an embarrassment, yet the ministries of medicine outweigh 
 them all. Witness the sanitation, not only of hospitals, 
 but of cities; witness the control of yellow fever in Cuba, 
 and the immunity of those who built the Panama Canal. 
 As I look back over the past years I marvel that such prog- 
 ress has been made, and I wonder if the world will ever 
 witness the like in the same number of years to come. 
 
 My surgical experience, in comparison with that con- 
 nected with medical practice, has been limited. The teach- 
 ing of anatomy had well prepared me for surgical practice, 
 but as that was never my preference it was only as an 
 emergency seemed to require it that I entered the surgical 
 
 73
 
 Jttemorieg of <igf)tp tear 
 
 field. A good deal of minor surgery had, of course, fallen 
 to my lot, but not until the period of the Civil War did duty 
 seem to demand surgical work at my hands. 
 
 When the Soldiers' Home was established in Chicago I 
 was requested to take charge of both its medical and surgical 
 departments. That position I held for four years, and that 
 without assistance, save by a relay of medical students to 
 serve as internes, nor did I for such service receive a dollar 
 in compensation. My chief work was that of caring for 
 invalid and wounded soldiers returning from the South. 
 This Home was a resting place until they were so far re- 
 covered as to be sent safely to their respective homes to 
 complete their recovery. Of course, holding this position, 
 a large amount of secondary surgical work fell to my lot. 
 Resections of almost every sort, and secondary amputa- 
 tions almost without number were required. I did not 
 remember the fact, but the celebrated Dr. Nicholas Senn, 
 at a recent banquet, stated that it was when I was holding 
 the forceps that he did his first surgical work by tying an 
 artery. These were four eventful years of hard work when 
 added to my private practice, and they were rich in surgical 
 experience. During the two years that my lifelong com- 
 panion, Dr. Edmund Andrews, was in the field as a surgical 
 director, I was requested to take his place as Surgeon-in- 
 Chief in Mercy Hospital. At this period it fell to my 
 lot to perform a large number of capital operations and to 
 give clinical lectures in connection with them. After the 
 battle of Fort Donelson I went as a volunteer surgeon to assist 
 in caring for the wounded at Paducah, where the churches 
 were turned into hospitals and filled with cots. At the 
 
 74
 
 ;#tet>ical $tartice in Chicago 
 
 conclusion of this work, as more fighting was anticipated 
 near at hand I was commissioned by General Sherman to 
 superintend the removal of a boatload of convalescents from 
 Cairo to Louisville and Cincinnati, and was in command 
 of the boat. I had a captain who was wondrous kind, and 
 all went well. In due time Dr. Andrews returned and re- 
 sumed his position as surgeon at Mercy Hospital, and I 
 went back to medical practice. I should also state that, 
 while having charge of the Soldiers Home, I also held the 
 position of contract physician (Colonel Mulligan in com- 
 mand) at Camp Douglas, where fourteen thousand Confed- 
 erates were confined. My ward contained sixty beds, and 
 I went through it thoroughly every day. Many a message 
 was taken down by me from poor sick men doomed to die, 
 with the hope that dear ones at home might have a last 
 tender word from their imprisoned boys. From some of 
 these many messages I have had grateful expressions in 
 later years. We had a severe whiter; at best the im- 
 provised barracks were cold; the Southern men were not 
 inured to such a change, and many perished from pneumonia. 
 On Sunday mornings in our ward we held simple Bible read- 
 ing and prayer service. We had little use for creeds, but 
 we all had common needs, and the place and hour seemed 
 fitting for seeking their supply. 
 
 75
 
 of 
 
 from 1857 to 1894, a period of thirty-seven years, I was 
 continuously engaged, with the exception of one year, 
 when I was laid by by reason of an accident, in medical 
 teaching. The students whom I met year by year, and 
 always pleasantly, have gone world-wide in the practice of 
 our profession, and with hardly an exception have highly 
 honored their alma mater. Many have grown gray in 
 active service, and many, oh so many, have been called 
 to lay down earthly cares and are with us no more. And 
 our professors they have gone. Not one of the faculty 
 of Rush with whom I was associated is living. The old 
 faculty of Lind University have all gone, and not one 
 of my associates as charter members of the Chicago 
 Medical College remains. 
 
 I seem like one who treads alone, 
 
 Some banquet hall deserted; 
 Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, 
 
 And all but me departed. 
 
 This seems to me very literally true, as now in 1909, 
 I, in my eighty-fifth year, still linger, the last "of the old 
 guards." In this connection I look back upon a life of 
 labor. None but those who have traveled the same road 
 can appreciate its cost, so to keep abreast with the rapid 
 strides which in that time have been made, as to warrant 
 the holding of a professor's chair. 
 
 I was a candidate for graduation when Dr. Warren of 
 Boston first used ether as an anaesthetic. In my early days 
 it was deemed a fatal deed to explore the abdominal cavity. 
 Cleanliness was enjoined, but the whole list of antiseptics 
 was unknown; and it was far along in the course of my 
 
 78
 
 Ceasing 
 
 teaching before the microbe was discovered, or that 
 malarial fevers were dependent upon the plasmodium, 
 which Laveran discovered some twenty years ago. With 
 most of us it requires the consumption of midnight oil lest 
 we become back numbers. 
 
 79
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 MEDICAL TEACHING 
 
 MY first experience in medical teaching dates from 
 September, 1857, when I was appointed Demonstra- 
 tor of Anatomy in Rush Medical College. The exposures 
 and real dangers I underwent in the fulfilment of duties 
 connected with that position seem almost incredible. The 
 procuring of subjects for anatomical teaching was some- 
 times at the peril of life. At that period nothing in a 
 community would so incite a mob as the invasion of a 
 graveyard. It was at a time, too, when not even the failure 
 of the regular lectures would so soon bring discredit to 
 a medical college as the failure to provide subjects for 
 dissection, and the demonstrator was responsible for the 
 supply. It is needless to speak of the decoy letters, of 
 shadowings by police, of the mutilation of subjects in the 
 darkness of the night to prevent their recognition when 
 the authorities were about to pounce down upon our 
 college on a voyage of discovery. I might speak of visits 
 to other cities and the sending home of barrels marked 
 "Chemical Erasive Soap" so that the contents might not 
 be betrayed by the odor. Only once was my life, I think, 
 really in danger, and that was when I approached a half- 
 open grave and one of my helpers, deaf as an adder, grasped 
 his hatchet to brain me, mistaking me for a policeman. 
 I threw my hat in his face; he recognized it and sank 
 down in complete collapse. We got our quota of subjects 
 
 76
 
 Cent lung 
 
 all right. To prove to myself that I could do it, I went one 
 dark night and procured a subject all alone. I did it 
 then, but I don't think I would do it again. 
 
 My college and hospital connections have been as follows : 
 
 In 1857 I was appointed Demonstrator of Anatomy in 
 Rush Medical College. 
 
 In 1859 I severed my connection there to accept the 
 chair of Descriptive Anatomy in the Medical Department 
 of Lind University. 
 
 In 1862 I occupied the chair of Materia Medica then 
 made vacant, the more to perfect myself for medical 
 practice. In 1864 I was requested to take the chair of 
 Physiology and Public Hygiene. 
 
 In 1866, at my request, I was appointed Professor of 
 Pathology and Public Hygiene, and held that chair for 
 seventeen years in the Chicago Medical College, when I 
 resigned from didactic teaching. At that date, 1883, I 
 was appointed Clinical Professor of Medicine, and for 
 eleven years devoted my time to bedside instruction in 
 Mercy Hospital. I was made a member of the Medical 
 Staff in Mercy Hospital in 1860, and held that position 
 continuously until my final resignation in 1894, a period 
 of thirty-four years. In 1894, upon my retiring from active 
 service, I was given the title of Emeritus Professor of 
 Clinical Medicine, and I still continue to sign diplomas 
 of the Northwestern Medical School. For two years, at 
 an earlier date, I was appointed upon the medical staff 
 of the Cook County Hospital, and for that time served 
 as Chairman of the Medical and Surgical Staff. Political 
 changes led to the retirement of the entire staff. Thus, 
 
 77
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 MEDICAL SOCIETIES 
 
 TOURING the years of my medical life it has been my 
 * ' pleasure to be closely affiliated with medical societies. 
 During the six years of my residence in Grand Rapids, 
 Michigan, the physicians located on Grand River, though 
 few in number, were able to organize a medical society 
 which for the time was interesting and profitable. The 
 Chicago Medical Society was well organized when I 
 came to the city in 1855. The year following I was elected 
 Secretary, and for some time held that position. The 
 Society had varied experiences, but never in the early days 
 was a minority of its members, though so inclined, able 
 to organize and sustain a rival society. The members 
 of the faculty of Rush Medical College were among its most 
 active promoters, and several were lifelong members. 
 In a medical history which I have recently prepared for 
 publication in connection with the work entitled "History 
 of Chicago, " published by Lewis & Brothers, I have given 
 a pretty full list of the most prominent members, and it 
 need not be repeated here. The society was for a time 
 at low ebb, but was again revived, and now, with a central 
 head and its affiliated societies, it has become the largest 
 medical society in the United States. It was my pleasure 
 to serve in the early days as one of its Presidents, and 
 often one of its delegates to the State and National 
 societies. 
 
 80
 
 j&tbital 
 
 My membership in the Illinois State Medical Society 
 dates from 1857. At the annual meeting of the Society 
 held in Rockford in 1907, it was the pleasure of the Scoiety 
 to present me an unique and beautiful autograph volume, 
 commemorating the fiftieth year of my connection with 
 the Society. Of course it is a gift which I prize above 
 measure, expressing us it does for me the very kind wishes 
 of my associates and containing the autographs of over 
 two hundred physicians representing every part of the 
 State. I was made President of the Society twenty-five 
 years ago, and for twenty-two consecutive years, except 
 when acting as President, I served as Treasurer of the 
 Society and published its transactions. 
 
 I first joined the American Medical Association in 
 Louisville in 1858, and in the successive years have 
 attended its sessions in nearly every prominent city in 
 the Union. During later years I became more close- 
 ly associated with it in an official capacity, serving for eight 
 years as one of its Trustees, and for two years as Editor 
 of its journal. With Dr. Nathan Smith Davis, who by 
 common consent was termed the "Father of the Associa- 
 tion," I held most intimate relations for forty years in 
 college and hospital teaching, and it was largely through 
 his influence that I came to occupy a somewhat con- 
 spicuous position in connection with these meetings of 
 the association, bringing me in close relation with a large 
 number of the most prominent physicians and surgeons 
 of our country. The privilege of such associations has 
 been one of the special pleasures of my professional life. 
 I was called to preside over the section of Medicine, and gave 
 
 81
 
 of 
 
 the annual address before the association at Cleveland, 
 I think, in 1888. 
 
 It has never been my good fortune to attend any of the 
 International Medical Congresses when held in foreign 
 countries. I was a delegate from Illinois to the one held 
 in Philadelphia in 1876, at which time Dr. Samuel Gross 
 was the presiding officer. 
 
 One of the strongest ties which helped to bind the 
 people of our country together during the Civil War was 
 the fraternal feeling maintained by the medical profession ; 
 and though they had been combatants on the field, it was 
 marvelous how soon they were again comrades when 
 brought face to face in meetings of the association. 
 Nothing so much as this could have demonstrated the 
 loyalty of the association. The commonwealth is far more 
 indebted to the influence of medical societies than it has 
 yet had power to express.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP 
 
 ROMEO, Michigan, is situated forty miles north of 
 Detroit. When our people settled there in 1827, 
 only a half dozen families lived within hailing distance and 
 the post-office bore the name of Indian Village. It received 
 its present name and was incorporated in 1830. Through 
 the agency of Father Ruggles, who resided in Pontiac, a 
 Congregational Church was organized in 1829. It num- 
 bered only nine members at first, including my grand- 
 father, Gad Chamberlin, and my mother. Grandmother 
 Chamberlin and two of the daughters had united with the 
 Methodist Church which had been previously organized. 
 In 1831, the year of my father's death, the church had 
 succeeded in securing the Rev. Luther Shaw as a settled 
 pastor. At a communion service later in that year, mother 
 stood before the altar with her three little children, Jean- 
 nette, Harvey and myself and received the ordinance of 
 baptism. I well remember the occasion, for I was then 
 seven years old. In 1837 a powerful religious revival 
 occurred extending its influence to that region of country. 
 On a single Sabbath fifty-two persons were added to the 
 Congregational Church and other churches were blessed in 
 like manner. I was one of the number of those who united 
 with the church at that time. I was then thirteen years 
 old. Our home was in close proximity to the church, and 
 for several years previously I had been the sweeper of the 
 
 83
 
 of 
 
 church and the bell ringer for the town at a salary of three 
 dollars a month; and with that salary I had paid for my 
 clothes. From its early settlement Romeo had been very like 
 a typical New England village. Religious influences were 
 strongly predominant, and the environments were such 
 as to largely protect young people from evil influences. 
 It was a long time before a saloon found its way there; 
 and as to smoking and drinking, I do not remember a single 
 individual of our younger set who indulged in either of 
 those habits, and the habits there formed have influenced 
 me for life. 
 
 . In 1849, when I settled in Grand Rapids, I transferred 
 my membership to the Congregational Church at that 
 place. I was a member of the choir while there, and one 
 of the Trustees. For three years before leaving there I 
 was made Superintendent of the Sabbath school, which 
 numbered three hundred pupils, and was a school after 
 my own heart. At my departure I received a beautiful 
 silver pitcher, which has been in service for fifty years, and 
 bears this inscription: "To our beloved S. S. Superintend- 
 ent, Dr. John H. Hollister, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1855." 
 In 1856, after our removal to 192 West Washington 
 Street, Chicago, we united with the First Congregational 
 Church, then located at the corner of Green and Washing- 
 ton Streets. Rev. George W. Perkins, a man greatly 
 beloved, was the pastor, and it was my great sorrow to be 
 his physician when he suddenly died of acute peritonitis. 
 Few pastors gained such a strong hold upon their members 
 and the community at large, as did he. This was the 
 
 8 4
 
 Onrrfc 
 
 pioneer Congregational Church in Chicago, and was largely 
 made up of members from other churches who were out- 
 spoken opponents to slavery and refused to be represented 
 in a presbytery where the question of slavery was ignored. 
 Beside these, constant additions were being made from 
 people newly arrived. The activity of these was best 
 evinced by the hearty manner in which they entered into 
 the development of mission Sunday schools to which I 
 shall have occasion to refer later. 
 
 When we came to reside on the South side we transferred 
 our membership to Plymouth Church, uniting there on 
 January i, 1864. This has been our church home for 
 forty-five years and through all its varied vicissitudes and 
 labors we have been closely identified with its interests. 
 Multitudes of people have come and gone, numbers have 
 been called to their reward, and now besides Mrs. Hollister 
 and myself, I know of but one remaining who was a mem- 
 ber when we united there. Since uniting with Plymouth 
 Church, our successive pastors have been: Rev. H. D. 
 Kitchell, who came to us from Detroit and greatly strength- 
 ened us in the days of our weakness. When he was called 
 to the Presidency of Middlebury College, Rev. Lewis 
 Matson, from Madison, Wisconsin, became his successor. 
 He came to us in the beauty and loveliness of his youth, 
 but the seeds of fatal disease were soon manifest. He 
 sought relief in the climate of Southern Italy but died in 
 Lyons, France, in 1868. Rev. William Alvan Barlett, 
 from Brooklyn, New York, was next called and under his 
 administration our church was greatly prospered. He
 
 of <i0f)tp ffearg 
 
 was with us at the time of the Chicago fire and came with 
 us to 26th Street when Plymouth and the South Church 
 were united, and was active in all that pertained to the 
 building of our present edifice on Michigan avenue. 
 Rev. Charles H. Everest was his successor, and remained 
 with the church for eight years. Then it was our good 
 fortune to secure as our pastor the Rev. Henry M. Scudder, 
 D. D., who by his power in the pulpit and strong per- 
 sonality was able to build us up as never before in spiritual- 
 ity and in material prosperity. Declining years and failing 
 health alone severed the relation which bound him so strongly 
 to a loving people. Rev. Frank W. Gunsaulus, now President 
 of Armour Institute and pastor of Central Church, a man 
 of world-wide reputation and one of the most eloquent 
 of pulpit orators, next became our pastor, and for twelve 
 years we enjoyed the rare privilege of his administration. 
 A call to a wider field down town seemed to beckon him 
 to larger opportunities, and the vast audiences that wait 
 upon his ministry seemed to confirm us all in the con- 
 viction^that his duty lay in that direction. For nearly 
 two years Rev. Artemas Haynes was his successor. He 
 was a remarkably attractive preacher, and won many 
 ardent friends to his support. His delicate health com- 
 pelled him to lay down his work for an indefinite period 
 and again our church was without a pastor. Rev. Joseph 
 Anthony Milburn, of Indianapolis, then accepted a call to 
 our church and has been our able pastor since 1900. We 
 have suffered severely during the past few years by reason 
 of the death of many of our prominent members and espe- 
 cially from removal to other suburban churches. Business 
 
 86
 
 is crowding at the very threshold of our doors and it seems 
 the part of wisdom not long in the future to locate in the 
 vicinity where most of our people and their children reside. 
 Plymouth Church has had its mission, and I think it will 
 have its mission still.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 MISSION SUNDAY SCHOOLS 
 
 UNION PARK SUNDAY SCHOOL 
 
 TT^XPERIENCE gained as a teacher in the public 
 * ^ schools prepared the way for Sunday school work, 
 and when I came to Chicago with the pleasant remem- 
 brances of the school in Grand Rapids fresh in my mind, I 
 was strongly inclined to take up a like work in this City, 
 When we united with the church it had besides its home 
 school three mission schools under its supervision, with 
 competent superintendents and well supplied with teachers. 
 The first request that came to me was that I should assist 
 in the development of an adult Bible class in connection 
 with the home school. The class, that numbered five 
 members, steadily grew in number and interest and was 
 continued at the noon hour for the six years that I re- 
 mained on the West side, with an average of fifty members. 
 It was made up of young married people, young men and 
 young ladies, most of whom, later in the day, went as 
 teachers to the mission schools. I was later engaged in 
 superintending the school to which I will soon refer. My 
 interest in that adult Bible class was never lessened and 
 many were the pleasant acquaintances there formed which 
 proved to be lifelong. 
 
 During the years 1857 and 1858 that whole western 
 portion of the city, which until then had been a pasture 
 
 88
 
 ground known as Bull's Head and now known as Union 
 Park, was being rapidly occupied by the newly made 
 dwellings of those who had just come to make Chicago 
 their home. No church had yet been organized and the 
 time and place for the founding of another mission school 
 seemed most opportune. Deacon Philo Carpenter, who had 
 been termed the Father of Congregationalism in Chicago, in 
 the early days had located one hundred and sixty acres of 
 government land at a nominal price and still held large hold- 
 ings in this vicinity. I was invited by him to visit the field, 
 and as the result, at his urgent request, a school was soon 
 organized and I was requested to act as superintendent. 
 Space on the prairie had been reserved for a park to be 
 called Union Park, the only evidence of which as yet was 
 on paper. Having faith in things yet to be, we named ours 
 the Union Park Sunday School. There was but one brick 
 building in all the region, with the exception of the 
 " Brown" school building just completed. A small wooden 
 schoolhouse, which had had its day, yet remained beside 
 the new building and was on rollers to be moved away. 
 We were permitted to use this building for three Sabbaths. 
 On the next Sabbath, though it had started on its journey 
 it was only one block away and we followed it for one 
 Sabbath more. Then we had a school growing rapidly in 
 numbers but without shelter. I shall ever hold in grateful 
 remembrance the enterprise and ingenuity which were 
 developed by a band of young men who improvised tem- 
 porary resting places for our accommodation. Frame 
 buildings in process of erection were numerous and near 
 at hand. In one of these, as soon as the roof was on, per- 
 
 89
 
 of 
 
 mission to occupy, was sought and gained. Rough floors 
 were improvised, nail kegs, saw horses and planks did 
 service as seats. Such a building could only be occupied 
 for a brief time, for when the plasterers came it was the 
 signal for us to move on. We occupied several houses in 
 like manner during the summer and autumn. Only once 
 did we fail to find temporary shelter, and then we met on 
 the grass on the shady side of the public schoolhouse to 
 which I have referred. Down our people sat upon the 
 prairie sod, and had a session enjoyable beyond expression. 
 Before the winter's snows were falling, the First Church 
 had erected for us a commodious building with high ceiling 
 and pretty windows, the dimensions being thirty by sixty 
 feet. Many prominent families whose names later became 
 inseparable with the early history of Chicago had located 
 near by and many of them entered heartily into our work. 
 
 In 1859 the Chicago Theological Seminary was organized 
 in connection with the Union Park Church. As they 
 were to occupy this field, we made to them a formal transfer 
 of our mission, which numbered three hundred teachers and 
 pupils, and from that date to this it has constituted the 
 home school of the Union Park Church. 
 
 On the second Sunday of June of this year 1908, just 
 fifty years from the day and the hour when our mission was 
 organized, it was my privilege as the first superintendent to 
 meet with the people of that splendid school, to be the 
 recipient of its hearty greetings and to take by the hand 
 just a few of the old veterans who were fellow-workers on 
 this ground fifty years ago. A deeply spiritual interest 
 pervaded the school from first to last. I think our teachers' 
 
 90
 
 prayer meeting held immediately after the close of the 
 school contributed largely to this result. I may cite a 
 single incident indicative of their influence. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Dean, lovely young people, had completed their home near 
 our school. Mrs. Dean soon became one of our most 
 active and efficient teachers. She was unconsciously 
 laboring for results that were to be the joy of her heart for 
 years to come. Mr. Dean used to come in and sit on the 
 bench in the rear of the room because he wanted to come 
 with his wife and he liked to walk. One day I went to him 
 and said: "Here is a little class without a teacher. Can't 
 you teach it?" He said: "I have never taught." "Well," 
 I said, " Go and sit down with the boys; they are interesting 
 little fellows" (Luther Laflin Mills was one of them). He 
 went and sat down. The boys were alert, and they began 
 to ask him questions. They said when the lesson was over, 
 "Won't you come and teach us again?" He could hardly 
 refuse. He came the next Sabbath. After our school, 
 when we had our gathering as usual for prayer and con- 
 ference, Mr. Dean arose and with trembling voice said: 
 "My boys have been asking some questions that I could 
 not answer. Will you pray for me?" And we had a 
 session of prayer. Do you know that man was for years 
 and years an evangelist traveling and holding meetings in 
 various states, and the first prayer he ever uttered in public 
 was in our little after service? 
 
 NORTH MISSION SUNDAY SCHOOL 
 
 This school had its inception in a car house on West 
 Kinzie Street near Halsted through the courtesy of Colonel 
 
 91
 
 of 
 
 Charles G. Hammond, general superintendent of the Bur- 
 lington road. Its superintendent and teachers were from 
 the First Congregational Church. The school occupied 
 passenger cars for the time stored in that building. It soon 
 outgrew its novel quarters, and in the autumn of 1852, a 
 lot was secured and a commodious building was erected 
 at the corner of Curtis and Third Streets. To a portion of 
 the people in that vicinity such a school was unwelcome and 
 on a Saturday night the building was burned. It was an 
 incendiary fire, since no residence was near it, and for a 
 week no fire had been lighted in the building. With an 
 energy characteristic of the men and women engaged in 
 that work, a new and much more commodious one was soon 
 raised in its place. The first superintendent was Mr. J. A. 
 Kinney, greatly beloved by all who knew him, and his 
 early death seemed an irreparable loss. Mr. T. T. Gurney, 
 one of the prominent members of the church, succeeded him 
 for two years, but his business called him so often from the 
 city that the school suffered from his absence. As I had 
 just resigned my connection with the Union Park School, 
 at Mr. Gurney's earnest request and other members in 
 charge, I assumed the superintendency of the school in 
 August, 1860. The Chicago Sabbath School Union, then 
 an official organization, so divided the mission field into 
 districts and assigned them to Protestant churches as to 
 prevent as far as possible the duplication of work on the 
 same field by different denominations. By this arrange- 
 ment, about forty squares were assigned to our school. In 
 September of that year, a thorough canvass was made, and 
 for each block, a special little book was prepared in which 
 
 92
 
 unfcap 
 
 to enter the name of every family and the names of the 
 children also. The denominational preference of each 
 family was recorded. We had just forty teachers, and to 
 each of these a little book was given, containing the history 
 of the particular block assigned to each of them. They 
 were to call upon the families who were friendly to our 
 work, and knowing every name, could claim intimate 
 acquaintance with each family, and this intimacy was 
 really wonderful in its results. As early as the third Sun- 
 day in each month, each teacher was to hand to Major 
 Whittle, later superintendent, a brief report of the visits, 
 and on the last Saturday evening of the month, the officers 
 and teachers were to meet in one of our private homes for 
 social reunion. A summary of those reports presented by 
 Major Whittle, in his peculiar way, became one of the most 
 enjoyable features of our meetings. In our field some 
 squares were densely occupied and these were assigned to 
 our most willing workers. A few blocks yet remained un- 
 occupied. To these, those who seemed too timid for the 
 work were assigned, with the understanding that when the 
 first building went up on their block their work of visiting 
 would begin. Although these were troublous times, our 
 school grew rapidly in numbers, and there was the most 
 delightful harmony. 
 
 During the year 1860, our country was passing through 
 the most critical period of its history since the American 
 Revolution. Mr. Lincoln had been elected and a threaten- 
 ing war cloud was resting heavily on all the land. The 
 firing upon Fort Sumter in 1861 was another signal shot 
 heard around the world. Six noble young men from our 
 
 93
 
 of <tgf)t)Li Hears 
 
 school answered the first call made by President Lincoln. 
 Each of these made a brave record, and to the preservation 
 of the Union two of them gave their lives. 
 
 In 1 86 1 we changed our residence to the South division 
 and I was requested to take charge of the home school, 
 and for a year, until the autumn of 1862, had supervision of 
 the two schools, the home school meeting at 12 o'clock, and 
 the mission at 3 P. M. In October, 1862, Mr. Walter N. 
 Mills, who during all my connection with the North mission 
 had been my most efficient assistant, and to whom I was 
 greatly attached, succeeded me in its superintendence. 
 At a surprise party given to Mrs. Hollister and myself, then 
 boarding at the Stewart House, by the officers and teachers 
 of the Mission School, we were presented with an album 
 containing the photographs of the entire number. We 
 still preserve it as one of our most cherished treasures. 
 The school continued to prosper under the superintendence 
 of Mr. Mills until it was merged in the Tabernacle School 
 of which it was by far the strongest constituent. 
 
 CLINTON STREET MISSION 
 
 This mission has an interesting history. It was situated 
 on the corner of Clinton and Wilson streets, two blocks 
 west and two south of i2th Street bridge. It was a part 
 of a subdivision made by Drs. Brainard and Evans, with 
 whom I had been associated in Rush Medical College, and 
 was now owned by Dr. Evans. He had removed to Den- 
 ver, had been elected Governor of Colorado, and was a 
 warm personal friend. Dr. Evans, for whom Evanston 
 was named and who had been most active in the organiza- 
 
 94
 
 tion of the Northwestern University, had desired that 
 somewhere on that twenty acres there should be at least 
 one Christian church. To this end, he had rented this 
 corner to the Society of Friends on a long lease with the 
 anticipation that in due time they would be able to pur- 
 chase it. They proceeded to erect a substantial frame 
 building about thirty by fifty feet in size. After occupying 
 their building for a brief period, it became evident to them 
 that their best interests required that their permanent 
 location should be on the South side, and they were desirous 
 of finding a party who would either buy or rent their 
 building and assume the lease. Mr. Adams, a member of 
 the First Congregational Church was anxious that they 
 should take up that work, but having three missions 
 besides their home school to provide for, they felt that 
 their hands were full. Mr. Adams then endeavored to 
 assume the work individually, but became in arrears for 
 rent and with much regret felt that the field must be given 
 up. These facts coming to our knowledge at Plymouth 
 Church, Mr. P. L. Underwood and I went over to visit 
 the school on the first Sabbath in May, 1867, and found 
 Mr. Adams more than anxious that we should assume the 
 work which he felt that he must relinquish. We conferred 
 with our church friends. We were now located in our new 
 building at the corner of Wabash Avenue and Eldridge 
 Court. We could reach the school by crossing i2th Street 
 bridge. We could draw upon our bible class for any 
 number of teachers. The only remaining question was, 
 Could we finance the enterprise? We conferred with the 
 parties interested, agreed to pay up the back debt and 
 
 95
 
 of 
 
 assume the rental for one year, with privilege of renewal at 
 our option. We assumed charge of the school in June, 1867. 
 We employed two omnibuses each Sabbath afternoon to 
 convey our teachers from the South side. Our young 
 people were enthusiastic in their work and the school grew 
 rapidly upon our hands until, at Christmas, there was 
 hardly standing room. Our friends were liberal contribu- 
 tors and by that time we had our rent fully provided for. 
 From February to June, .1868, I was in Europe. Our 
 lease had been extended another year. Upon my return 
 Mr. Underwood said to me, "I have just seen Mr. Tuthill 
 King, who said ' If you will buy the ground and keep it free 
 from debt, I will give you a thousand dollars, but it must 
 be kept free from all incumbrances; and I do not deem it 
 wise to subscribe for current expenses.' ' Mr. Underwood 
 said to me: "This is too good to be lost; we must raise the 
 money." I at once wrote to Governor Evans as to his 
 price for the lot. He had just been elected United States 
 Senator and was to be in Chicago on his way to Washington 
 in a few days. He had held the ground at three thousand 
 five hundred dollars and a party was now considering it at 
 that price, but said he: "If you want it, I will donate five 
 hundred dollars and give you a clear title if you will have 
 three thousand dollars ready for me when I come." Mr. 
 E. S. Pike, a newly-arrived citizen, was interested in our 
 work and subscribed two hundred and fifty dollars. After 
 another conference with Mr. Underwood, I wrote to Deacon 
 Carpenter, who then resided in Aurora, and laid the whole 
 matter before him, stating that if he would give us a thou- 
 sand dollars, we knew where we could raise the rest. By 
 
 96
 
 return mail we received his check for that amount, and the 
 remaining seven hundred and fifty dollars, Mr. Underwood 
 and I divided between us. We then went among our 
 friends, regardless of church relation, and obtained six one- 
 hundred-dollar and twelve fifty-dollar subscriptions, with 
 which we purchased the building. The property was ours 
 and paid for. To make the matter secure, the title was 
 vested, at our request, with the trustees of Plymouth 
 Church. During the next year, the school had so out- 
 grown the building that an annex with a seating capacity 
 for one hundred scholars was added. A church was soon 
 organized, with the younger Mr. Bascom as its first pastor. 
 Our Plymouth Church continued to meet the expenses for 
 three years longer, when those of church and school were 
 assumed by the people on the field, and at a later period it 
 was turned over to the City Mission Society. The in- 
 habitants in that section became so changed, and those who 
 had located there had so little sympathy with our work, that 
 a different location seemed desirable. The property was 
 sold for eight thousand five hundred dollars, which was used 
 by its people in the building of the present Ewing Street 
 Church. When the Clinton Street Church and school 
 were assumed by the home people the Plymouth workers 
 withdrew, to engage in another mission on the South side. 
 
 ARMOUR MISSION 
 
 At the conclusion of our work at Clinton mission, when a 
 church had been formed which was to take charge of its 
 Sunday school, our band of teachers from Plymouth 
 Church, who had labored so faithfully there, stood ready to 
 
 97
 
 of <igf)tp 
 
 engage in a new enterprise. The home school was then 
 under my charge, and Mr. William McGill, who had been 
 my faithful associate in Clinton Mission, was ready to 
 superintend the new enterprise. We took a morning drive 
 to find a desirable location, as yet unoccupied, for another 
 mission school, and after canvassing the field as far as the 
 stock yards, came to the conclusion that the best point 
 would be west of State Street, somewhere between 2gth 
 and 35th streets. The result was that Mr. McGill came 
 upon a saloon keeper who was anxious to dispose of his 
 lease and would immediately vacate. The saloon was 
 rented; it was located on 33rd Street just west of State 
 Street. Within a week the barrels were removed, the place 
 was renovated, a full supply of superfluous settees from 
 Plymouth Church obtained, and on the following Sun- 
 day afternoon the new work was initiated. It was my 
 privilege to act as chairman at the organization. The 
 following officers were elected: Mr. William McGill, 
 superintendent; Mr. Arthur Farwell, assistant superintend- 
 ent; Mr. Wilmarth, treasurer, and Mr. James Nickerson, 
 secretary. 
 
 At that time Plymouth Church was not in a position to 
 guarantee its support, and the expenses were met by 
 private subscriptions. For several years it was known as 
 the 3ist Street Mission. Mr. McGill was greatly interested 
 in the work, and prodigal of time and money in its support. 
 He was able to secure a monthly contribution of five 
 dollars each from six young men to meet its rent, one of 
 whom was Mr. Joseph Armour. The current expenses 
 were paid by the school and its friends, and no debt was 
 
 98
 
 allowed to be incurred. The school grew rapidly in num- 
 bers, and the upper front room of the building was secured 
 for its use. Very soon arrangements were made for 
 preaching service on Sunday evening, and students from 
 the seminary were engaged to conduct the service. The 
 fee, at first being five dollars per evening, was soon increased 
 to ten, and was doubtless a material help to those 
 thus engaged. A choir was organized which was quite 
 popular, and large additions of young people were made to 
 our number. At the end of two years the school had so 
 far outgrown its rooms as to necessitate its removal, and 
 Apollo Hall, at the corner of State and 28th streets, was 
 secured for its use. The hall was in the third story of a 
 wooden building. It was ample so far as room was con- 
 cerned, and all right in the summer time, but the dread of 
 fire in the four living rooms below, hi the winter time, was 
 hard to be endured. Such a risk ought not to be taken. 
 Every precaution possible was observed, but such a danger 
 with our narrow flights of stairs was unwise. At the 
 conclusion of a most successful career in this school, and 
 while occupying that place, Mr. McGill tendered his 
 resignation, and Dr. Doremus Scudder succeeded to his 
 place. Plymouth Church had now assumed its support, 
 and it was then known as Plymouth Mission. Dr. Doremus 
 Scudder had completed his medical course and was pre- 
 paring to go as a missionary to a foreign field. After a 
 few months he resigned as superintendent and at the urgent 
 request of Reverend Dr. Scudder, then pastor of Plymouth 
 Church and of the Prudential Committee, I became 
 superintendent. I assumed that work with the condition 
 
 99
 
 of Cigfttp Ifcarg 
 
 that Mr. McGill should be my associate, to which he 
 assented, and our work went on happily together. When 
 later Mr. McGill removed from the city, Mr. Edwin Burritt 
 Smith became his successor. Unwilling to risk the lives 
 of our children in that upper hall another winter, we were 
 able to rent the entire lower floor of a large brick building 
 then in process of construction located at the southwest 
 corner of 3ist and Butterfield streets, now known as 
 Armour Avenue. Here we had ample room for our school, 
 and the dread of fire was unknown. We had now an 
 average attendance of four hundred children and forty 
 teachers, and a Bible class numbering from thirty to forty 
 people. Preaching services were well attended, and our 
 monthly sociables were always looked forward to with 
 special anticipation by all concerned. Thus far I have 
 traced the beginnings of 3ist Street Mission and its further 
 development as Plymouth Mission. It is next in order to 
 note how it became known as Armour Mission. During 
 the time that Mr. McGill was conducting the school, Mr. 
 Joseph F. Armour became especially interested and con- 
 tributed liberally to its support. He had recently made a 
 public profession of religion and had united with Plymouth 
 Church. He was rapidly acquiring a very prominent 
 position as a successful business man. He had ample 
 means at his command, and early conceived the idea of 
 securing a permanent home for the mission. While Mr. 
 McGill was yet superintendent the two men made several 
 carriage drives in quest of a suitable location, but no 
 definite result was reached. During the autumn of that 
 year Mr. Armour suffered from ill health and went to 
 
 100
 
 Florida hoping to be benefited. He grew rapidly worse, 
 and the promising career of that noble man was prematurely 
 cut short. Mr. Armour died in Florida. It was found that 
 in his will he had set aside one hundred thousand dollars 
 for a building and the endowment of his cherished mission 
 school. After his death his brother, Mr. Philip D. Armour, 
 determined that the purpose of his brother Joseph should 
 be fulfilled. He too became greatly interested in the 
 enterprise and determined to build a memorial structure 
 which should fittingly express his affection for his departed 
 brother. He acquired five acres of ground fronting the 
 corner of Armour Avenue and 33d Street and constructed a 
 magnificent building for the school. He covered the 
 entire five acres of ground with a fine apartment building, 
 the rent of which should be used for the use of the institu- 
 tion, and thus provided for its permanent endowment. 
 While living, he conveyed the title to this property, costing 
 a million and a half of dollars, to a board of trustees having 
 power to nominate their successors. The building went 
 rapidly forward to completion, and on a bright Sunday 
 afternoon our school, now numbering about five hundred 
 pupils, left our old quarters, headed by our Young People's 
 Bible Class, fifty in number, and marched in procession 
 with banners flying to occupy the new home. Within two 
 months our numbers increased from six to twelve hundred, 
 and by Christmas time we had a membership of eighteen 
 hundred. Our building was arranged to accommodate 
 three large departments. In each of these the exercises 
 were conducted by assistant superintendents and had their 
 own exercises. They were named the Primary and Inter-
 
 of 
 
 mediate Departments, and the Main School. There were 
 twelve Bible class rooms, which opened by folding doors 
 into the main audience room. These were all occupied 
 by Bible classes, which participated with the main school 
 in the opening and closing exercises. We had the benefit 
 of a fine organ, and the singing was a very impressive 
 feature in our service. Four times a year we held quarterly 
 services in the audience room, when all the children were 
 massed in one grand assembly. They occupied every 
 available seat, crowding the spacious galleries, the Bible 
 class rooms, and every inch of the main floor. On our second 
 Christmas day our school and its visitors numbered two 
 thousand two hundred by actual count. It was not unusual 
 to have from two to three hundred visitors on a single 
 Sabbath. Mr. Armour gave us fifteen hundred dollars 
 with which to furnish a Sunday school library. The work 
 of procuring and classifying it was committed to Edwin 
 Burritt Smith. Another important feature was that of 
 the Teachers' Prayer Meeting, which was held immediately 
 after the close of the school in a large side room. Though 
 we were thronged with numbers, many of whom were 
 visitors from idle curiosity, this gathering served as a great 
 help in making spiritual influences dominant in all our 
 work. Our whole working force was there assembled, 
 three associate superintendents, the leaders of the Bible 
 classes and a hundred and fifty teachers. Teachers' 
 sociables were held once a month, where mutual acquaint- 
 ance was secured, and were in every way very delightful. 
 
 A permanent pastor was employed, and on Sabbath 
 evening the audience room was well filled. A large choir 
 
 102
 
 under an efficient leader was organized, consisting entirely 
 of young people connected with our own work. A volun- 
 tary church organization numbering some eighty members 
 was effected, and Sabbath evening preaching became one 
 of our prominent services. For twelve years I was con- 
 nected with this organization, and upon my resignation 
 Mr. Edwin Burritt Smith, who for years had been my asso- 
 ciate, succeeded to the superintendency. At the time of 
 my resignation, in 1888, I received a rare collection of 
 books, eighty volumes in number, as a Christmas present 
 from those who had been associated with me in the work. 
 At the conclusion of Mr. Smith's service, I consented to 
 again resume the charge of the school to "bridge over" 
 as was stated but it was four years more before the end 
 of the bridge was reached. With this second ending of my 
 work at Armour Mission my days of Sabbath school 
 superintendence ended, although I have been connected 
 with the Bible class work to the present date. 
 
 103
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE CHICAGO FIRE 
 
 r I CHOUGH now a bit of ancient history, in its time the 
 - Chicago fire was a fearful fact. The very elements 
 seemed to conspire for the destruction of the city. For 
 six weeks there had been no ram; the place was like a tinder 
 box. At the time the fire was started, the wind was blow- 
 ing at the rate of forty-five miles an hour, and in a direction 
 to sweep the town. 
 
 The fire originated from an overturned lamp in a stable 
 in the southwest part of the city. The result was a mass 
 of ruins covering twenty-six hundred acres of what had been 
 the center of the city, with nothing remaining which a heat 
 of twenty-seven hundred degrees could destroy. 
 
 The record of thatnight, Oct. 9, 1871, will never be effaced 
 from the history of Chicago. The story of its disaster 
 was told in all lands, and those who witnessed the con- 
 flagration were wont to tell of their experiences for long 
 years afterward. In fact the tale seemed never to grow old. 
 
 During the early part of that year we had resided in a 
 summer home at Riverside, while nearly all of our effects 
 were still in Chicago. While sitting at our breakfast table 
 on the morning of October loth, our next door neighbor, 
 Mr. David Blakely, proprietor of the Chicago Post, came 
 in upon us so excited and so ghastly pale that we thought 
 surely he had gone mad. "What!" he exclaimed. "You 
 
 104
 
 Chicago fire 
 
 here, and don't know that Chicago is all burned up! 
 Your office is gone, my presses are gone! There is not a 
 printing press left, not a hotel, not a church the city gone, 
 and you don't know iti" Then I thought surely poor 
 Blakely had gone insane. He continued: "I have worked 
 all night in the desperate effort to save my sister and her 
 children, and thank God we got them here." In all earnest- 
 ness I exclaimed, " Where?" "There!" he cried, pointing to 
 his house. It was but a step across the lawn. In a mo- 
 ment I was there. I was sure the man was mad. I met 
 that sister at the threshold of the door. With arms up- 
 lifted far above her head and tears streaming down her 
 cheeks, with breath too choked for utterance, she could 
 only say with broken sobs "Oh doctor, isn't it awful?" 
 The appalling fact was upon us that the half had not been 
 told. The western train going to Chicago was just at 
 hand and I was soon as near the confines of the fire as safety 
 would permit. Already the entire center of the city was 
 burned, the flames were eating out the margins and still 
 spreading desolation far away on the North side. From 
 Madison Street north the West side had been spared, and 
 skirting the burned portion, I followed up Halsted to Lake 
 and came on Lake to the river, which parted me from the 
 fiery furnace. The corner of Lake and Canal streets was 
 occupied by a lumber yard, where upon its highest pile I 
 climbed and had a near view of the whole scene. It was 
 then 9 o'clock in the morning, the sun was slowly rising 
 from over the lake and its face was as red as blood. I 
 think I must have stood there transfixed for a full hour. 
 
 105
 
 jttemorieg of <6i$)tp 
 
 How many had perished in the flames I could not know. 
 How the poor patients in the hospitals with which I was 
 connected had fared I could not tell. Whither had these 
 thousands of people, so many of them our friends, fled, or 
 how many of them had fallen by the way to these ques- 
 tions there were no answers, and fear outweighed all hope. 
 As a physical phenomenon, that scene was passing wonder- 
 ful. For two square miles before me, the whole field was 
 heated until iron melted like wax and stood in pools in the 
 cellars where large hardware stores had been. The very 
 air over that region was visible and its waves rose and fell 
 as distinctly as though they had been water. How long 
 unbidden tears had been flowing down my face I do not 
 know, but I found myself murmuring a piteous wail, 
 "Poor Chicago! Poor Chicago!" During the day the 
 fire continued to rage, completing the destruction on the 
 lake shore, and sweeping far and wide upon the North 
 side until every house save one had been consumed. The 
 following night, it is said, one hundred thousand people 
 were resting unsheltered upon the open prairie on the West 
 side. During that night the rain had come, at last the 
 drought so long continued was broken, and the heated 
 earth, too warm for comfort, was cool again. 
 
 The news of the disaster flashed to every land, and dona- 
 tions never before paralleled were soon counted by millions. 
 Train loads of provisions blocked every avenue; every 
 church in the suburbs was an eating house, and the doors 
 of every private residence far and near stood wide open. 
 From every land, and from the islands of the sea, came con- 
 
 106
 
 Chicago fire 
 
 tributions almost beyond measure, until it seemed as though 
 the treasures of the world were wide open. Even for two 
 years after the fire, some of the delayed ones were seeking 
 their destination. The personal losses were enormous; 
 treasures and heirlooms beyond number and beyond price 
 were swept away. The records of the city of every sort 
 had perished, and titles to property were gone. 
 
 The whole area of the burned district had to be re-sur- 
 veyed to determine metes and bounds. It has always seemed 
 a marvel to me the manner in which our hospitals were 
 emptied and the lame, the halt and the blind so rescued from 
 the flames that only two hundred persons should have 
 perished. 
 
 To show how utterly Chicago seemed to be destroyed, 
 I give a single fact which implicated myself. Two days 
 after the fire a message reached me from the proprietor of 
 a newspaper in Michigan, with a request that I should 
 prepare an article in answer to the question: "Will Chi- 
 cago be rebuilt?" And I confess I took the matter so 
 seriously that I sat down and penned a reply a column in 
 length, giving my reasons in all sober earnestness why it 
 would and must be restored. I smile as I remember that 
 in less than a year the tall derricks in all the central streets 
 looked like the masts of vessels in a crowded shipyard. 
 
 The history of its rebuilding needs no recital. The 
 answer is that in two decades the World 's Fair brought to 
 it the finest fabrics and choicest works of art which the 
 world could produce, and its beautiful " White City" gave 
 evidence never to be questioned that Chicago was rebuilt. 
 
 107
 
 of <igi)tp 
 
 I saw Chicago in 1846, when it had fifteen thousand in- 
 habitants. I was a citizen when it numbered sixty thou- 
 sand people. Since then it has increased to over two mil- 
 lion inhabitants, and were I to forecast the future, I would 
 confidently predict that it will be the dominant city of the 
 continent, and that not long in the future. 
 
 108
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 VISIT TO EUROPE 
 
 ON February 22, 1868, I left New York on a voyage 
 to Europe. Rev. L. E. Matson and his wife were 
 my traveling companions. He was going to Italy in 
 quest of health and was specially committed to my care. 
 Mrs. Hollister was not strong and our little daughter 
 Belle had need of her constant care. So, much to my 
 regret, I was to make the journey without them. 
 
 We sailed on the French steamer St. Lawrence, and after 
 nine days landed at Brest and went by rail to Paris. 
 We left New York when the thermometer registered 
 twenty degrees below zero. The second day out we 
 encountered a terrific northeaster, and if others have 
 suffered more from seasickness than we did, our profound 
 sympathy is at their command. 
 
 Three weeks were given to my first visit to Paris. 
 Napoleon Third was then emperor, and though Paris 
 was, as always, everywhere gay, I somehow felt that 
 a kind of surveillance and espionage was everywhere 
 present. Beneath the buoyancy and cheer, so 
 characteristic of that city, there seemed to be an un- 
 derlying spirit of unrest. I think Napoleon at that 
 time was seeking a war with Germany that he might 
 avert a war at home. I little dreamed that within two 
 short years the German flag would wave over Palais 
 Royal, that terms of peace would be dictated at Ver- 
 
 109
 
 of 
 
 sailles, that Alsace and Lorraine would be surrendered, and 
 that an enormous indemnity was to be paid by France to 
 Germany. Neither the world outside nor France itself 
 would have known how rich she was until that enormous 
 indemnity had been met and paid by her own people. 
 Statistics show that, notwithstanding this immense strain 
 upon her resources, per capita, France is still the richest 
 nation in the world. France was humiliated, but she 
 bides her time. The wound may seem healed, but the 
 scar remains, and gives no evidence that the result will 
 prove permanent. 
 
 I had long desired to visit Paris and my anticipa- 
 tions were realized, for it is a beautiful city. My 
 visit to Versailles was a charming one, and the Louvre 
 had its endless attractions but my interest mainly 
 centered in its medical institutions. In former years 
 many of our foremost men had been in the habit of taking 
 a course in Paris for the more perfect rounding out of 
 their medical studies. By the hearing of the ear I had 
 learned much, but I had longed to see for myself. Monod, 
 who since became one of the foremost surgeons in Paris, 
 was just then beginning to win his spurs. His brother 
 had been my patient in Chicago, and from this brother 
 I bore a letter of introduction to him. That was all I 
 needed. I was made a welcome guest, not only in the 
 wards of the hospitals, but in private families as 
 well, for not only was Monod a favorite with the pro- 
 fession, but one of his uncles was a member of the Legion 
 of Honor. I divert to say that while I was a guest at the 
 table of this uncle, I referred to the popularity with which 
 
 no
 
 to 
 
 their medical schools and hospitals were regarded in 
 America. "Yes," said he, "that may be true, and we 
 are glad to believe it, but you have one thing which we 
 have not," and then after a pause he said, "that is liberty." 
 The whole Monod families were stanch Huguenots, and 
 his words meant more than I then knew. In a little more 
 than two years France was to be a republic. 
 
 But to return: Surgeon Monod gave me his card with 
 a commendation written upon its back, and that card gave 
 me an open door and a place of honor wherever it was 
 presented. I spent most of my time for two weeks walking 
 in the wards and listening to lectures from a large number 
 of leading physicians and surgeons. They were days of 
 profit, and much that I saw and learned was to be utilized 
 in Chicago. I had a special invitation to a meeting of the 
 Academy of Medicine, where I saw and heard many cele- 
 brated men whose writings had been my text books. What 
 a reward came to me from the treating of a little wandering 
 Frenchman in Chicago. 
 
 Leaving Paris we started on our way to Southern Italy. 
 We spent a day at Dijon, another at Lyons, and two days 
 at Marseilles. We then boarded a little ship with no 
 accommodations for passengers, but of almost incredible 
 speed. We learned that it was built as a blockade-runner 
 during our Civil war and later had been sold into the 
 Mediterranean service. Skirting the northern coast of 
 that beautifully blue inland sea, we were soon at Genoa, 
 the proud commercial rival of Venice in the fifteenth 
 century. Of course Columbus was my uppermost thought 
 as we neared the quaint little city, and a monument to
 
 of <igf)tp Ifearg 
 
 him gave evidence that his memory is honored at home. 
 It did not then dawn upon my imagination that twenty- 
 five years later the "White City" in Chicago would 
 be built in honor of his discoveries. 
 
 After two days in Genoa, a night's ride in a little sailing 
 vessel brought me to Leghorn, once so renowned as a seaport 
 town. An inland ride of eighteen miles and we came to Pisa. 
 From childhood, as often as I had seen its leaning tower 
 pictured in my school books I had cherished the hope that 
 some day I might see it. Of course it seemed then but an idle 
 dream, but now it was to be realized. Not the beautiful 
 scenery and the snow-capped Apennines in the distance 
 could command my interest until I had climbed the 
 Tower of Pisa. From its top a magnificent view of the 
 Mediterranean is to be had, and the approach of vessels 
 could be discerned thus far away. As I descended from 
 the tower step by step I found myself saying, "I've done 
 it; I've done it." And yet that childish thought of mine, 
 now fulfilled, was of small matter. How I did crave to 
 have someone speak to me from out the past and tell 
 of the peoples of the long-gone centuries, of deeds which 
 they had done, and by whom this leaning watch tower had 
 been built, giving timely warning of buccaneers from the 
 far-off Lythian shores. Like footprints on the sands of 
 tune, the record is mingled with myths, and only a frag- 
 ment here and there remains to tell of the things that were. 
 
 From Pisa I went to Florence. I had left my friends, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Matson, at Genoa, and from thence was to 
 make my journey alone. Florence is a beautiful city 
 situated on either side of the Arno, which is spanned by
 
 it to Europe 
 
 from six to ten bridges, some of modern construction and 
 others of very ancient architecture. The history of Flor- 
 ence, so named perhaps from the profusion of flowers upon 
 its native hills, has been written and rewritten by those 
 who have known it best, and I need not here register the 
 limit of my knowledge. I will write only of what I saw. 
 First the beautiful little river Arno, which has cut its way 
 through the Apennines and is in haste to get to the sea. 
 Second, the hillsides which skirt the river on either side, 
 surrounded by imposing cathedrals, immense private 
 dwellings and beautiful villas, which tell of the grandeur of 
 Florence in its palmy days. As regards galleries of art, it 
 must easily rank with the foremost cities of the world, 
 and for three days I spent my time mainly hi viewing 
 these art treasures, the works of the old masters. The 
 collection of paintings in Pitti Palace is said to be the 
 finest in the world, and tourists by hundreds, from all 
 parts of the world, make this one of their objective points. 
 The Uffizi gallery contains several masterpieces of Ra- 
 phael's and Titian's. One room, called the Tribune, con- 
 tains the most celebrated statues of antiquity. Florence 
 is also celebrated for its libraries. I think the National 
 library, which contains two hundred and eighty thou- 
 sand volumes, will be found eventually to be one of the 
 richest mines in the world to be worked by historians in 
 later ages. The stores in the Vatican will hardly exceed 
 it in matters of ancient history. Historians tell us of 
 Florence as a republic, of her conquest by the French, of 
 her importance when she was the capitol of Italy under 
 Victor Emmanuel, until as the capital she gave place to 
 
 "3
 
 of 
 
 Rome in 1870. Here was the home and the life work of that 
 wonderful man Savonarola. Here too, in his day, Michael 
 Angelo founded his famous "School of Art," whose works 
 are today numbered among the choicest treasures for which 
 Florence is renowned. It is, as I said, idle to write of 
 Florence. One must see it; he must study it before 
 he goes study it there and study it afterwards. 
 
 From Florence I passed through Rome direct to Naples, 
 planning to spend Easter at Rome on my return. It was 
 night when we reached Naples, and as we approached the 
 city I had my first sight of the red glare of Vesuvius, then 
 in violent eruption. In the morning, from my open window 
 I beheld the beautiful Bay of Naples immediately before 
 me, and there at anchor lay our grand American Squadron 
 with Admiral Farragut in command. This was in March, 
 1868. Not since I left home had I seen the Stars and 
 Stripes unfurled, and if a tear did drop from my eye that 
 was a matter of my own. Naples, Pompeii, Herculaneum, 
 made immortal by the younger Pliny, were of absorbing 
 interest, but none of these could command me as did that 
 day spent at the foot of Mount Vesuvius. The very earth 
 trembled as the belching flames rose high in air, and the 
 melted rocks seemed like meteors in the sky. A stream of 
 lava was running down the mountain, a cooling, crushed 
 mass which was slowly pushing itself upon the plain 
 before us, while here and there a crack in the crust 
 would permit the liquid fire to appear. We lingered upon 
 the mountain side until nearly midnight, making heavy 
 requisitions upon our well-supplied larder; and this I will 
 confess that after the manner of our crowd I did drink a 
 
 114
 
 to 
 
 bottle of Lachryma Christi. As a physician, it was purely 
 a professional act, for I must know its quality if I were 
 to advise its use. At midnight we were half-way down 
 the mountain, and tarried for a time at the Hermitage, 
 where kings in seclusion had hidden away in times gone 
 by. The moon was at the full; almost beneath our feet 
 was a city in its slumber. The rippling waters of the bay 
 gave back to us the silvery light of the reflected moon, and 
 in the dim distance rose the beautiful island of Capri. 
 There was but one such balmy night one such Italian 
 moon, one such city and one such bay. A day and a 
 night such as these were worth living for. 
 
 After two weeks I returned to Rome. It was Easter 
 week and pilgrims from the ends of the earth were there. 
 Pius IX was then the spiritual potentate of the Catholic 
 world, and his appearance in St. Peter's on Easter day 
 was the crowning event of the week. Of course I visited 
 the catacombs, walked out on the Appian Way by which 
 Paul had entered Rome, and paid a visit to the tomb of 
 Matelli; saw the illumination of St. Peter's at night, and 
 attended a Protestant service outside the city wall on 
 Sunday, for at that time no such service was permitted 
 within its limits. What a change has come over Italy 
 since that day ! 
 
 I visited the Coliseum at midnight under a full moon. 
 It seemed to me that in the shadow of those walls I ought 
 to discern the gladiators and the martyrs, hear the cries 
 of the infuriated mob and the howling of wild beasts, 
 while the gentle moonlight was faintly representing the 
 glare of burning Rome with Nero looking on. 
 
 "5
 
 of <ifff)tp % earg 
 
 After a week in Rome and another day in Florence I 
 crossed the Apennines. It was night, and I was locked in 
 an apartment with a rough looking fellow who just ful- 
 filled my idea of a brigand. If he chose, it might be but 
 a moment's work to pitch me from the open window down 
 the mountain side and appropriate my effects. So I pre- 
 sumed to sleep wrapped in my immense plaid shawl, but 
 all the while keeping one eye out, when what should I 
 discern but that he was doing the same thing. With the 
 light of morning dawning we had a conversation, but 
 neither knew the other's language. Soon we were in 
 the beautiful city of Venice, and my first ride in a gondola 
 took me to the Hotel 1' Anglais. Of course I had a day 
 on the Grand Canal, passed under the Bridge of Sighs, saw 
 the old Venetian paintings in the Doge's Palace, visited 
 the Cathedral of San Marco and the Basilica, since fallen; 
 but all the way my uppermost thought and wish were that 
 Jenny might be there to enjoy it all with me. Another 
 day and I was on my way from Venice to Vienna. Our 
 route lay along the valley of the Sommering. We were 
 skirting the crested spurs of the Eastern Alps, and in the 
 course of the day passed through fifty-two tunnels, so the 
 guide books say. While the snow blockaded the paths at 
 our stations high on the mountain side, we could discern the 
 peach-trees in bloom in the valley far beneath. I was in a 
 compartment with a German teacher and two young ladies. 
 He was teaching them English, and such English I have not 
 the power to describe. I did not let on until near the end 
 of our trip, when I spoke to him in English. To this day 
 I have enjoyed the confusion which my question produced. 
 
 116
 
 to 
 
 At Vienna I was at once in the midst of medical sur- 
 roundings and busy. I was not an adept in the German 
 language, but by the aid of some of my former pupils 
 who were attending lectures there I managed to get 
 along quite satisfactorily. I had the pleasure of hearing 
 the celebrated pathologist Rokitansky as he gave his 
 last course of lectures, and Hebra, too, who at that time was 
 a world-wide authority on skin diseases. Bilroth, also yet 
 young in his profession, had come to Vienna, where his 
 laurels were yet to be won. In company with our American 
 students I visited the wards day by day, studying their 
 methods of medical and surgical teaching and treatment. 
 
 From Vienna I returned to Paris for a few days, and then 
 crossed over to London. I was introduced to the private 
 library of Professor Beal, saw the original drawings from 
 which the illustrations in his books were made, and there 
 studied his rare microscopical specimens for two weeks, 
 in connection with a walk each day in some one of the great 
 hospitals. I was most interested at Guy's Hospital, King's 
 College Hospital, and St. Bartholomew's. Through the 
 courtesy of Professor Beal I had the pleasure of attending 
 an interesting session of the Royal Pathological Society, 
 where I saw a number of London's most eminent men and 
 listened to their discussion. They have a curious custom 
 there which, while it seemed rude, might be sometimes 
 used to advantage in America. If the man who had 
 the floor had not something original or well worth the 
 hearing to say, those old veterans would commence rub- 
 bing their feet on the floor until the din would compel 
 the speaker to sit down. London is by all odds too big. 
 
 117
 
 of 
 
 It is impossible for any man, though he be a resident 
 there, to take it in. I did my best at the rate of sixteen 
 hours a day for two weeks, but aside from medical col- 
 leges and hospitals I only brought away a few relics. 
 
 I had the exquisite pleasure of an evening in the House 
 of Commons when Gladstone and Disraeli were there. 
 Of course I visited Westminster Abbey and looked at the 
 monuments and tablets dedicated to the memory of 
 departed heroes. I spent an evening at Exeter Hall and 
 heard the oratorio of Elijah rendered by five hundred 
 picked singers of the kingdom. On Sunday I was one 
 of the immense crowd and heard a sermon by Spurgeon 
 in his famous tabernacle. I also spent a whole day at 
 the Tower, and as I gave a good-sized tip to my custodian 
 he just laid himself out in his recital of its marvelous his- 
 tories, some of which I knew from previous readings to be 
 true. His toggery would have secured for him a first-class 
 position in a dime museum in America. The crowns of 
 departed kings were there, the armor of old time 
 warriors, the court where so often the bloody ax had 
 fallen, and the deserted cells whose histories, if they could 
 be retold, would cause the blood to curdle in the bravest 
 heart. Let the dead past sleep without a resurrection 
 and the Tower remain as it is today, one of London's 
 chiefest side shows for the entertainment of tourists. 
 
 But now the day for the sailing of my steamer was at 
 hand. A rapid ride took me to Liverpool and a seven 
 days' voyage on the Russia brought me to New York, 
 whither my wife had come to meet me. The homeland 
 was never so dear, and the reunion was best of all. 
 
 118
 
 JOHN HAMILCAR HOLLISTER 
 
 JANUARY
 
 JENETTE WINDIATT HOLLISTER 
 
 849-1899
 
 FOR several years I had been a member of the "Romeo 
 Band." It numbered fifteen members, and several 
 of them were talented musicians. It had quite a reputa- 
 tion throughout Michigan and, notably in the political 
 campaign of 1844, was continuously in demand at mass 
 meetings as they were held throughout the state. Two of 
 our members were nephews of Mr. Oliver Newberry of 
 Detroit, who was among the first to inaugurate upper 
 cabin steamers on the Lakes. These boats made weekly 
 trips between Buffalo and Chicago and were immensely 
 popular, there being as yet no railroad communication 
 with the West. Mr. Newberry was the granduncle, and 
 one of our boys became the father, of our present Secretary 
 of the Navy. 
 
 Mr. Newberry invited our band to take a pleasure trip 
 from Detroit to Chicago on his favorite steamer, "The 
 Illinois." It was a gratuity not without its compensations, 
 for it was an event on these upper lakes when a vessel 
 steamed into the various ports with a full band of music on 
 board. We had a jolly time in passing the St. Clair Flats 
 and the old historic Fort Gratiot. All went merry as a 
 marriage bell until we entered Lake Huron, where off Sagi- 
 naw Bay we encountered a heavy rolling sea. Mai de mer 
 soon took possession of us; the smiles on our faces soon wore 
 off, and most of us were at the rail pretending to count
 
 stars in the bottom of the sea. But we outrode the storm 
 and were pretty well recovered when we came in full view 
 of Mackinac. It was a summer evening with full moon at 
 midnight. The dark green foliage which skirted the hill- 
 tops was in strong contrast with the whitewashed buildings 
 and picket walls which outlined the fort. It seemed to me, 
 as we steamed up to the shore and the notes of our music 
 came echoing back from the bluffs, the newest approach 
 possible to an earthly paradise. When, on our return at 
 midday three days later, I beheld the squalid huts of fisher- 
 men and the untidy Indian tepees skirting the shore, my 
 first fond illusion was dispelled and this ideal of my dreams 
 was entirely outside of heaven. We went, as was the cus- 
 tom hi those days, from Mackinac to Manitou Island to 
 take on wood. It was a sight to behold the enormous 
 quantity taken on board at a single landing. It gave us 
 some little idea of the cost of running a steamer in those 
 early days. 
 
 We lay in the Chicago Creek for a part of three days. 
 The city had been incorporated only nine years. It num- 
 bered about fifteen thousand inhabitants. There were no 
 paved streets, save a few planks laid in Lake Street. There 
 were but three or four brick buildings on Lake Street, and 
 property owners on that street were striving to induce busi- 
 ness men to come over there from South Water Street, which 
 fronted on the river and its docks. But Lake Street was 
 yet too far away too far south. I gained permission to 
 run up to the crosstree of a schooner that lay alongside of 
 our boat, and from this masthead had a fine panoramic 
 view of the whole country. It was heavily wooded on the 
 
 122
 
 IHgit to Chicago 
 
 south side below Twelfth Street, and on the north side beyond 
 Chicago Avenue. Only a little stretch of prairie was to be 
 seen on the west in the direction of Riverside. 
 
 On the first night the officers provided us with a carryall, 
 and with a four-horse team we went serenading the town. 
 In the matter of music our only competition arose from the 
 opening of windows, the rattling of blinds, and the clapping 
 of hands. As a special compliment to some aristocratic 
 families we were driven to their residences, "away out on 
 Madison Street." This was then the far south of the city. 
 The next evening a reception was given on board the steam- 
 er, and the long cabin was filled to overflowing by citizens 
 of Chicago, and music and dancing held the gayly attired 
 visitors until the small hours of the morning. On the third 
 day we steamed down the creek, giving to the city a parting 
 serenade, and that ended my first visit to Chicago. 
 
 123
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 EXCURSION TO THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER 
 
 IN 1855 the Burlington Railroad had been completed 
 from Chicago to the Mississippi. The great event of 
 the year was to be duly celebrated, and Colonel Charles G. 
 Hammond, the general superintendent of the road, had 
 planned an excursion worthy of the occasion. 
 
 A train of fifteen cars was put in service to accommodate 
 the invited guests, numbering many noted men and charm- 
 ing women. Among the men most prominent were Hon. 
 Lewis Cass of Detroit, the old-time Governor of 
 Michigan Territory, pre-eminently the great pioneer of the 
 Northwest, and later successively United States Senator, 
 Secretary of State, and in 1848 the Democratic candidate 
 for the Presidency; the Hon. Stephen A. Douglas then 
 Senator from Illinois and breasting the opposition of the 
 North for his successful effort to repeal the Missouri Com- 
 promise; Hon. Zachary Chandler, formerly Governor of 
 Michigan, later to be known as the stalwart leader of the 
 Republican party, the war horse in the Civil War and the 
 days of reconstruction ; Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, later United 
 States Senator from Michigan; Levi D. Boone, Mayor of 
 Chicago, and members of the Common Council, including 
 such prominent men as Isaac N.Arnold, then our Representa- 
 tive in Congress, and author of a Life of Lincoln ;Lieutenant- 
 Governor Bross, one of the proprietors of the Chicago 
 Tribune, and Hon. Wm. H. Brown, one of Chicago's 
 
 124
 
 to tfje 
 
 most distinguished citizens and an early Illinois pioneer. 
 Together with these were several Eastern capitalists con- 
 trolling the road and a goodly number of ministers, lawyers, 
 doctors, and prominent citizens of Chicago. A full comple- 
 ment of brilliant ladies completed the list. 
 
 Northern Illinois in its primeval state was a garden of 
 beauty. Its vast stretches of virgin prairie were then 
 covered with a profusion of wild flowers, and the groves of 
 timber skirting the inland streams and occasional hillsides 
 gave to the whole scene an indescribable beauty. Isolated 
 farm-houses here and there dotted the then vast plains 
 where now are fields of waving grams and where cattle by 
 the thousands are herded. It seems incredible that only 
 fifty years ago this garden spot of the world was awaiting 
 the coming of the thrifty husbandman. The choicest of 
 land could be had for two dollars and a half an acre, where 
 now one hundred dollars for the same would be refused. 
 It seems, as I again traverse the road, literally true that a 
 nation has been born hi a day. At that date, at the point 
 where the Burlington crosses the Freeport Division of the 
 Illinois Central, there was a depot just finished and only 
 two farm-houses in sight. To-day it is the spot occupied 
 by the beautiful and flourishing city of Mendota. The 
 saplings then planted by the incoming people, beautifying 
 their homes, have grown to be forests. 
 
 We left Chicago at nine o 'clock in the morning, had lunch 
 in the freight house where Mendota now stands and reached 
 the river opposite Burlington at four o'clock. Here we 
 were met by the Mayor and Common Council of that newly 
 incorporated city and a large delegation of citizens who, 
 
 125
 
 with ferry boats, had come across the river to meet, welcome 
 and escort us to their city. 
 
 Though in later years we have traversed that mighty 
 river many times, and from St. Paul to New Orleans, this 
 was the first time that we had set eyes upon the veritable 
 stream where La Salle and Marquette had led the way. 
 We had to cross it by ferrying, since as yet not a bridge had 
 spanned its waters save the little wooden structure at 
 St. Anthony's Falls now known as Minneapolis. While 
 crossing the river, and midway in the stream, when a wel- 
 come from the Mayor of Burlington had been responded 
 to by the Mayor of Chicago, a jug of water from Lake 
 Michigan was poured into the river, symbolic of the com- 
 mingling of friendship and the unity of interests that should 
 in the future bind these people as one. Hotels and private 
 homes were thrown wide open and nothing left undone 
 which could insure the comfort of their welcome guests. 
 
 The Rock Island road had also reached the river, con- 
 necting Chicago with the towns of Rock Island and Daven- 
 port. At Burlington the next morning our party divided, 
 a part going down to view the deserted town of Nauvoo, and 
 the other up to Rock Island by way of the river. I joined 
 the latter party and spent the following night in a hotel at 
 Rock Island. I was not at all well and retired to my room 
 at an early hour. It happened to be located across the 
 hall from a large reception room hi which Judge Douglas was 
 to entertain his friends and give to them a recital of his 
 exploits in securing the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. 
 It was an exceedingly warm night and all doors and win- 
 dows were wide open. It will be remembered that the 
 
 126
 
 <fcuri0n to tftc 
 
 Judge was then in the zenith of his popularity, and, not- 
 withstanding the antagonism of the new Republican party, 
 was again to be elected Senator. The matter of his coming 
 had been well advertised and his admirers were there in 
 full force. I think the real purpose of the Senator was to 
 furnish his political understrappers with lines of argument 
 with which to turn the tide which was sweeping thousands 
 of men from their ranks into those of the "Free Soil Demo- 
 crats." Though his room was crowded to the utmost, his 
 position was near the door and I could hear with the utmost 
 ease. Of course the clinking of glasses was a familiar sound 
 to such an audience, and the Senator had not proceeded 
 very far in his specious argument until a goodly number of 
 his devoted friends began to be extremely hilarious and 
 to cheer his utterances longer and louder than they knew. 
 The Judge 's arguments lay essentially along the same lines 
 as those he later used in his celebrated debate with Mr. 
 Lincoln. Up to that hour, although abhorring the work 
 he had done, I still had respect for Mr. Douglas. But from 
 that time I was obliged to write him down not only as an 
 arch scheming politician, but as an unprincipled trickster. 
 One of his methods of securing a vote for the repeal of the 
 Missouri Compromise was narrated to his audience, who 
 went wild over his success. The men of that day have 
 nearly all passed away; the issues then rife have long since 
 been settled. It may be charged that I was only an eaves- 
 dropper and have no business to repeat what I there heard. 
 His utterances were in his usual vociferous style, without 
 the least suggestion that they were confidential. He said: 
 "On the evening before the day when the Nebraska Bill 
 
 127
 
 ^omrfanfc 
 
 was to be finally voted upon, a distinguished Senator who 
 had another very important bill which was soon to be voted 
 on, and in which he was greatly interested, came to me and 
 said: 'Senator Douglas, if you will give your influence for 
 the passage of my bill, I will vote for the Nebraska Bill to- 
 morrow,' whereupon I affected great rage and denounced 
 him roundly. I said: 'If you cannot vote for the repeal 
 of the Compromise as a matter of principle, then I don't 
 want your vote at all. Do you propose to bargain the great 
 measures as though they were a mess of pottage? It is 
 beneath you as a Senator and an insult to me, and so sure 
 as I stand in that Senate Chamber to-morrow I will public- 
 ly denounce you.' He made a most piteous plea, but I was 
 strenuously insistent and closed the interview abruptly. 
 My bill was put upon its passage the next day. When the 
 roll call reached his name there was no response. It was 
 called a second time, and he faintly responded 'Aye.' 
 Gentlemen, I had him ! And I was not committed to his 
 bill, which was to come up later, neither did I intend to be.' " 
 I said to myself, if one vote for the repeal of the Missouri 
 Compromise was thus obtained, how about the others? 
 How about great principles? 
 
 A charming ride the next day, of only five hours over the 
 Rock Island Road, brought us again to Chicago. We had 
 had a delightful time, and laudatory resolutions were passed 
 by acclamation. Many pleasant acquaintances had 
 been made. My special regret was that Jenny was in 
 Michigan and could not share that pleasure with me. 
 
 128
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 VISIT TO EASTERN COLLEGES 
 
 earlier years of my Chicago life were closely 
 - devoted to my profession. My means were limited, 
 my medical practice, upon which I was dependent, 
 was yet to be built, and must of necessity command 
 my closest attention. Besides this, after my first 
 year in Chicago, and for forty years, I was contin- 
 uously engaged in medical teaching in college and 
 hospitals. In the furtherance of my medical interests, 
 I at once became a member of the local medical society 
 and after a year became its secretary. A year later I 
 joined the Illinois State Medical Society, and at the fiftieth 
 anniversary of that event I was kindly remembered at 
 the annual meeting by my associates in Rockford in 1907. 
 I also became a member of the American Medical Asso- 
 ciation at the annual meeting in Louisville in 1858. In 
 connection with the State Medical Society, I was enabled 
 to form pleasant acquaintances with the leading medical 
 men in the state. I was honored with the presidency of 
 the society, and for twenty consecutive years was made 
 its treasurer and charged with the annual publication of 
 its transactions. When I became treasurer, the society 
 was fifty cents in debt; when I left it, the cost of trans- 
 actions had been paid and there was a balance of four hun- 
 dred dollars in the treasury, arising from the persistent 
 collection of annual dues. By this time I was pretty well 
 
 129
 
 Outings? 
 
 known throughout the state, especially by those who were 
 slow in making payments. 
 
 As a member of the American Medical Association, I 
 came to know large numbers of prominent physicians 
 throughout the Union. In the earlier years I was not 
 always in attendance, but later when for a number of years 
 I held official relations with the Association, I traveled far 
 and near to attend its meetings. It was not until 1862 
 that I broke away from medical matters at home, and from 
 attendance upon medical lectures, to make a trip purely 
 for pleasure; and even this was to be turned to utmost 
 practical account. It was at the close of a severe winter, 
 during the second year of the Civil War. I had lectures 
 four times a week in the college; my wards at Mercy 
 Hospital were crowded with patients, and the "Soldiers' 
 Home," of which I had sole charge, required my daily 
 attendance, so that by April ist, I was thoroughly tired 
 out. 
 
 Ever since the commencement of my medical teaching 
 I had had a desire to form the acquaintance of those who 
 were doing similar work in the older institutions . The lectures 
 in the Eastern colleges did not close until the first of May. 
 This gave me a full month for observation. Fifty years 
 ago Philadelphia was the medical Mecca of America. The 
 most ambitious of northern students went there if their 
 means would permit. It was the common resort for 
 students from the South, it was the city from which 
 nearly all our medical books emanated ; and, whether North 
 or South, we of the profession were ready to take off our 
 hats to graduates of Jefferson University. So, as others 
 
 130
 
 to 
 
 had done before me, I made Philadelphia my first objective 
 point. I made my home at the old Continental Hotel. 
 It was a model of neatness and of elegant moderation, so 
 characteristic of that city in the olden time. No one 
 seemed hurried, and yet everything went on with silent 
 precision. It was an opportune time for such a visit, for 
 a number of the professors were well advanced in years 
 and were soon to retire from active service. Professor 
 Robley Dunglison was one whom I especially desired to 
 meet. His dictionary, his volumes on Medical Practice 
 and on Therapeutics had been my text-books since the day 
 I commenced the study of medicine. It was now a delight 
 to listen to a living author for whom I had cherished such 
 profound respect. In his style, as in his writings, it was 
 evident that he sought not to be ornate nor eloquent, but 
 simply in a colloquial manner to make his points with 
 such lucidity and precision that one could hang his hat 
 upon them years afterwards. I doubt if we have yet 
 had another so all round learned in his profession as was 
 Robley Dunglison. 
 
 Professor Meigs was another of the older men soon to 
 retire from teaching. His manner too and his utterances 
 were in keeping with his writings. He was an attractive 
 speaker and very popular. He would charm for the time, 
 he was pleasing to the ear, but his points were so ornately 
 dressed that they were well-nigh lost in their drapery. 
 Still his works on Obstetrics and Diseases of Children were 
 the leading text-books in nearly all our colleges for many 
 years. As Professor Meigs had been the successor of the 
 renowned Dr. Dewees, so now Dr. Pepper was soon to 
 
 131
 
 succeed Dr. Meigs, with whom he was already associated 
 in the writing of medical text-books. Dr. Pepper was just 
 entering upon a career in which later he was to be eminent. 
 
 Professor S. D. Gross was in the prime of his man- 
 hood. He had come from Louisville and was fast acquir- 
 ing a national reputation. I think he was the first Amer- 
 ican to publish a work on Pathological Anatomy one of 
 my early text-books. I rode with him, saw several of 
 his private patients, and often met him in the wards of 
 the hospital. 
 
 This it will be remembered was during the second year 
 of the Civil War, and the lines of communication between 
 the North and the South were absolutely closed. During 
 all the previous years there had been a large representation 
 of students from the Southern states; but now these were 
 all cut off and the effect upon the school was most con- 
 spicuous. I think Philadelphia has never regained the 
 prestige she held before the war, for up to that time she 
 was pre-eminently the leading medical center in America. 
 
 After two weeks, in which every waking hour had been 
 fully occupied, I went from Philadelphia to New York and 
 made my home at the Metropolitan Hotel. I at once 
 found myself in very different surroundings. Here every- 
 one was in a hurry. They all seemed to think they had 
 been born a little late, but were determined to catch the 
 next train. I not only found I was in a strenuous world, 
 but soon got the move and was planning to the utmost 
 what could be accomplished in each single day. I first 
 went to the College of Physicians and Surgeons, and again 
 heard a lecture from Professor Alonzo Clark, to whom I 
 
 132
 
 iit to <agtern 
 
 had listened for two successive terms fifteen years before 
 at Berkshire College in Massachusetts. Fifteen years 
 had wrought their changes, but there was the same elegance 
 of manner and the same beauty of diction which, in times 
 past, had so endeared him to his pupils. He had always 
 been my ideal as a lecturer, and it was a sincere pleasure to 
 listen to him again. He, more than any other man, was 
 the originator of clinical teaching in the hospitals of New 
 York, and I can almost feel that one betrays his ignorance 
 of medical men if he has not known Alonzo Clark. 
 
 There, too, I met Professor Willard Parker, then the most 
 noted surgeon in New York after Valentine Mott, who had 
 already retired from active practice. I was especially 
 desirous of meeting Dr. Parker, since I had corresponded 
 with him with reference to the death of his brother-in-law, 
 Rev. Dr. Perkins, who was my patient and whose death, 
 upon post-mortem examination, proved to result from 
 appendicitis. Of this disease he wrote me that he had 
 tabulated forty-two cases, and that they were uniformly 
 fatal. Such was the testimony of Dr. Parker in 1856 
 with reference to that disease, and I well remember that 
 at that date to open the peritoneal cavity was considered 
 an unwarranted procedure. Thus a word with reference 
 to the advances in surgery. Before their college classes 
 and in the wards of the hospitals, I met a number of noted 
 men, such as Gurdon Buch, Van Buren, Markoe, Sands, 
 Dallon the physiologist, and Bedford the leading obstetri- 
 cian. I listened to their didactic lectures and was daily 
 present at their clinics and was very kindly received by 
 them all. To me it was like taking a post-graduate course, 
 
 133
 
 DomdanD 
 
 and I was richly repaid for my effort. I think I fully 
 appreciated the work of those splendid men, and at the 
 same time came home with the conviction that Chicago 
 Medical College was holding a creditable place with the 
 best of them. 
 
 134
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 SOUTHERN VISIT 1865 
 
 Civil War ended with the surrender of the 
 Confederate Army in April, 1865. For four fearful 
 years had the two great opposing armies been contending 
 with such supreme effort as has no parallel in modern 
 history. To what the South had been led to believe was their 
 righteous cause they had given their last available man. 
 The blockade of their seaports had cut off foreign supplies, 
 their treasury was exhausted, and, with no further hope of 
 foreign intervention, upon the surrender of Lee's army 
 the last hope of secession perished and the war was ended. 
 
 It was in October of that year that Mrs. Hollister 
 and I went South to visit friends residing in Memphis, 
 Natchez, New Orleans and Thibodaux. We traversed 
 by land and by river a country where prosperity had 
 given place to desolation, and where as yet no signs of 
 recuperation were visible. 
 
 During all that desperate struggle, save perhaps at 
 Gettysburg, the war had been waged on Southern soil. 
 On land, camp-fires had done their worst with all com- 
 bustible material, and the unfenced fields were desolate. 
 Along the river, in going from Memphis to Natchez, the 
 ravages of war were still more apparent. No more were 
 there the thrdbbings of commercial life, for the marts of 
 trade were deserted. Her ablest and bravest men had 
 followed the fortunes of war, many of them never to return, 
 
 135
 
 while others were seeking as best they might to retrieve 
 their fortunes elsewhere. Vast numbers of slaves still 
 clung to their old plantations and sought the fostering 
 care of those they had always served, but the idle, the dis- 
 solute, the vicious were still hanging around the wharves, 
 seeming to cherish the idea that somehow they were to 
 live without work and that freedom included daily bread. 
 Only six months had elapsed since the capture of Jef- 
 ferson Davis and his confinement in Fortress Monroe. 
 The Southern leaders who survived were submitting to 
 the inevitable, uncertain yet as to the future status, not 
 only of themselves, but of the revolted states as well, for 
 as regards political relations their country was in utter 
 chaos and under military control. Grief for the "lost 
 cause" was in no wise assuaged, nor destined to be for 
 many a day to come, and in many hearts, never. Yet in 
 the main the people were inclined to accept the result 
 quietly and were glad that the war was over. Our friends 
 towards whom our footsteps were tending had long an- 
 ticipated the result, and were not suddenly surprised when 
 the war was ended. We were received with open arms, 
 for, though the struggle had been desperate, there had 
 been no estrangement of kindred ties, and the reunions 
 seemed more than ever dear. But among strangers in 
 our travels it was sometimes otherwise. This was perhaps 
 most noticeable on some of the Southern steamers. While 
 there was already much of Northern travel on the river, 
 there were steamers who were officered by men outspoken 
 in their sympathy for the Southern cause. Such boats 
 were specially patronized by Southern ladies. The Steamer 
 
 136
 
 1865 
 
 Magenta was one of these, and in going from Natchez 
 to New Orleans, we happened to take that boat. Un- 
 fortunately for us our costume indicated the region from 
 whence we had come, for mine was the only silk hat on 
 the boat, and Jenny's mink furs told the rest. We soon 
 observed that wherever we located -'n the cabin the seats 
 adjoining were quietly vacated, and in the course of the 
 voyage one lady, in passing by, gathered her skirts and 
 described a slight semicircle to avoid a too near approach, 
 and to indicate that we were "personae non gratae." But 
 once among our old friends the contrast was most marked, 
 for strangers introduced by our friends received us with 
 all the cordiality so characteristic of Southern hospitality, 
 and all the while our hearts went out to them in deepest 
 sympathy, borne down as they had been by the crushing 
 weight of war. The reasons which brought on the sad 
 conflict were never matters of discussion. 
 
 Slavery had been a national sin, and a nation's sacrifice 
 was to be the price of its removal. There was never a battle- 
 field where "boys in blue and boys in gray" had not 
 fallen side by side, to rest in a common hallowed ground. 
 Especially sad did it seem, as we entered places of worship 
 on Sabbath days, to see nearly all the ladies heavily 
 draped in mourning. These simple emblems told of 
 griefs beyond expression, of sorrows too heavy to be 
 borne. We, too, were mourners, for sad remembrances 
 came of those whom in this conflict we had loved and 
 lost. 
 
 While the deepest sorrows and losses that could never 
 be recovered were hidden in stricken hearts, the country 
 
 137
 
 Domcianti Outings 
 
 everywhere told of desolation which in the four years 
 had overtaken this fair land. As we crossed the river 
 at New Orleans to visit very dear friends in the quaint 
 old town of Thibodaux, our route lay along a broad, deso- 
 late expanse where immense sugar plantations, that 
 had been the pride of the South, were now swept by the 
 besom of destruction. Nor were either Northern or 
 Southern armies alone responsible for this destruction. 
 Alternately and hi quick succession each army had occu- 
 pied this ground, until everything that could serve a 
 soldier's purpose had been utilized or ruthlessly destroyed. 
 Here and there grand old trees remained; where 
 stately mansions had disappeared, only fallen chimneys 
 survived the burning; and skeletons of machinery were 
 the only remnants of the immense sugar houses which had 
 yielded such bountiful revenues to their opulent owners. 
 Much as we loved our beloved Union, it was sad that its 
 preservation must needs be secured at such a price. No 
 braver hearts have lived than those born on this Southern 
 soil, and those who followed the teachings of their leaders 
 were ready to give their all in what they deemed their 
 righteous cause. 
 
 State rights had been the doctrine promulgated by 
 Calhoun and his followers, until at last "The state first, 
 whether in or out of the Union" became the battle-cry 
 of the Rebellion. And finally, when the die was cast and 
 war with all its devastations was ended, there were no 
 braver hearts than these, to sweep away the ashes and 
 rebuild the old waste places. The spirit of the people 
 is overborne, but it is not broken. Slavery is no more, 
 
 138
 
 1865 
 
 and Southern people generally will welcome its departure. 
 It relieves them of a heavy burden in caring for their 
 slaves, and it has long been a question whether, in the 
 long run, paid labor was not more profitable. The entire 
 nation mourns the loss which the Civil War entailed, 
 but seemingly the result could be attained at no less 
 price. The Union is preserved, and the Stars and Stripes 
 will be common to every state and to our ships on every 
 sea. The stain of slavery is forever removed, and no more 
 are we to be taunted as a free nation while holding five 
 millions of people in bondage. 
 
 And now that the question is settled, an unwonted 
 prosperity surely awaits the South. The natural products 
 of her soil are destined to yield the larger revenue to 
 the national treasury and her manufactured staples will 
 be carried to all lands. The ties that bind us are in- 
 separable. The South has need of the Union and the 
 Union has need of her. Many sorrows encompassed our 
 visit, but there was much to gladden our hearts. Kindred 
 ties seemed never so strong, and the thought that we were 
 yet to be of one people, live under one flag, and share the 
 precious heritage of a common ancestry, brought joy to 
 all our hearts. 
 
 139
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE CENTENNIAL EXPOSITION HELD AT PHILA- 
 DELPHIA, IN 1876 
 
 TT was one of the most eventful days in the world's 
 1 history when the independence of the American 
 colonies was declared in Independence Hall at Philadelphia, 
 on July 4, 1776. From the window of that hall the Decla- 
 ration was first given to the world, and from that window 
 our flag was first unfurled, proclaiming that a new nation 
 had been born. It was a daring deed when the brave men, as 
 they stood around the table, gave their signatures to that 
 instrument which, in case of failure, might prove their 
 death warrant. I think it was Franklin who there said: 
 "We must all hang together or we will hang separately." 
 
 The first of the colonial settlements had been made 
 at Jamestown, Virginia, in 1607, and in 1620 the May- 
 flower was at Plymouth Rock. The granting of charters, 
 with metes and bounds so indefinite and often so pre- 
 posterous, was ample evidence of the ignorance of the 
 British King with reference to these colonial possessions. 
 There were three dominant reasons which impelled to the 
 colonization of these remote lands. The most trivial of 
 these was the love of adventure; the second was the love 
 of gain ; the third and strongest of all, the privilege to wor- 
 ship God without persecution or restraint. 
 
 With all the colonies, whatever their religious tenets 
 
 140
 
 Centennial 
 
 might be, the question of subsistence was the first essential 
 to success, and begat in a vast number of the colonists habits 
 of rigid economy which it would be difficult for their 
 present descendants to understand, much less to practice. 
 In the meantime the colonies were growing apace, and 
 unconsciously laying the foundations for a great republic, 
 and developing an inherent power which was soon to 
 astonish the world. It was not the fostering care of the 
 mother country that was bearing them along, for, as said 
 by Patrick Henry, "They grew by her neglect." 
 
 With the Declaration of Independence went forth a 
 decree that only republics would possess this Western 
 continent, only Canada, which occupies the position of a 
 semi-republic, being the exception to this decree. When 
 the centennial was reached, the colonies as states had 
 spanned the continent. Florida, the French possessions 
 beyond the Mississippi, the northern half of Mexico, and 
 Alaska had been added to our national domain. Our 
 population, which in the time of the Revolution numbered 
 but three millions, had now increased to forty-five millions 
 of people, inhabiting the entire central belt of North 
 America. Blessings beyond measure had been meted 
 out to our country. It was in the heart of every loyal 
 citizen to fittingly commemorate this centennial year, 
 and there was never a question but that Philadelphia 
 should be the place for the centennial gathering. 
 
 In common with the hundreds of thousands from our own 
 land and from foreign countries, our little family, consisting 
 of Mrs. Hollister, our little daughter Belle, and myself , visited 
 
 141
 
 i|)omriin& 
 
 Philadelphia. The weeks of our sojourn there gave us 
 one continuous unfolding of wonderful experiences. Our 
 journey in going was over the lines of the Pennsylvania 
 Central, a route heretofore by us untraveled. The moun- 
 tain scenery was a continuous charm, and the "Horse- 
 shoe Curve" seemed to us the triumph of engineering, 
 for we had not as yet traversed the distant Rockies, 
 nor at that time had those daring feats of mountain climb- 
 ing been realized. The exhibition had all the advantage 
 of novelty, and to all eyes Fairmount Park seemed a veritable 
 fairyland. For two weeks we made our daily rounds, and 
 each night wondered if our tired bodies would permit a 
 repetition on the following day. We went, we toiled, we 
 saw, until hardly another thing, be it never so startling, 
 could tempt us farther. 
 
 By a wise forethought it had been planned that the 
 meeting of the International Medical Congress should be 
 held in Philadelphia at this time. There was a large 
 attendance of delegates from foreign countries, and the 
 profession in our own country was ably represented. It 
 was my privilege to be a representative from the Illinois 
 State Medical Society, and I have counted my attendance 
 there as one of the special privileges of my life. It was 
 eminently befitting that Professor Gross, a citizen of Phila- 
 delphia, and without question then the foremost surgeon 
 in this country, should be made the presiding officer. That 
 Congress revealed to me a dignity and a power possessed 
 by our profession such as I had never before appreciated. 
 After what they had been permitted to see and to hear, 
 
 142
 
 Centennial 
 
 no loyal heart but gladdened at the thought that he was 
 an American citizen. 
 
 We came to our home in safety grateful for such 
 an ancestry and for such a heritage. Many an evening 
 hour has been spent at our home fireside in living over 
 the pleasant hours we spent at the Centennial Exposition. 
 
 143
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 DISCOVERY OF YELLOWSTONE PARK 
 
 T THINK the most unique and interesting homeland 
 excursion I have ever made was that when, with Mrs. 
 Hollister and our daughter Isabelle, I joined the memorable 
 excursion of "The Hatch Party" for a formal opening of 
 Yellowstone Park, which was under the control of the 
 Yellowstone Improvement Company, in 1883. It was 
 unique in this respect that for days we traversed vast 
 stretches of the "Wild West" until, passing beyond the last 
 traces of civilization, we entered this, in many respects the 
 pre-eminent "wonderland" of the world. 
 
 And if we were to seek the reason why this land of wonders 
 had remained so long unknown, we shall not go far to find 
 it. Of the Indian nations who held primal claim to that 
 vast region there were three the Siouxans, the Algonquins, 
 and the Shoshones. Of the Siouxan tribes, the Crows were 
 the most formidable and warlike. Of the Algonquin family, 
 the Blackfoot tribe was the most belligerent, and ever at 
 war with the Crows. The Shoshones were an inferior 
 people, held in derision by the stronger tribes, and by reason 
 of their poverty and effeminacy were termed "sheep eaters." 
 They dwelt where the stronger tribes did not care to follow. 
 But, brave as the Indians were as warriors, they were all in 
 deadly fear of the geyser lands as being the gateway to the 
 infernal regions, which, in common with the rest of the 
 human race, they preferred not to enter. To them it was 
 
 144
 
 f eltotogtone 
 
 the ghost land, the demon land, the land which, if a good 
 Indian entered, he could never be a good Indian again. 
 Hence there are but few Indian legends which refer to this 
 purposely unknown land. Of these I have found but one, 
 and that is this that no white man should ever be told of 
 this inferno, lest he should enter that region and form a 
 league with the devils, and by their aid come forth and 
 destroy all Indians. Hence the trappers, who were the first 
 white men to enter these western wilds, learned little or 
 nothing from that source ; and, having ample hunting grounds 
 near at hand, were not ambitious to invade those of warlike 
 Indians, only so fast as peaceful relations could be estab- 
 lished. And thus time went on until, in the closing years 
 of the last century, its wonders were to be revealed. 
 
 In speaking of its discovery, meager as my sketch must 
 be, there are two names that stand out so prominently as to 
 deserve a passing notice. They are those of John Coulter 
 and James Bridger. Coulter was a member of the memora- 
 ble expedition of Lewis and Clark to the Pacific Coast, and 
 had been of special service as a leader of a small band when 
 explorations were to be made which were deemed more or 
 less hazardous, thus becoming one of the most valuable 
 members of the exploring expedition. 
 
 After wintering upon the Pacific Coast, the party, in the 
 spring of 1806, began its return, and in due time was en- 
 camped upon the bank of the Missouri River at a point 
 near by which the present city of Bismarck is now located. 
 Instead of continuing with his party down the river to St. 
 Louis, Coulter, in connection with two trappers who had 
 accompanied their expedition, determined to explore the 
 
 145
 
 O^utinga 
 
 wild and wholly unknown sources of the Yellowstone River. 
 Under solemn assurance on the part of the rest of the party 
 that they would not break their contracts, Coulter was 
 honorably released, with flattering testimonials and a 
 generous outfit. He set out upon one of the most wonder- 
 ful expeditions then possible in this country, and such were 
 his powers of observation and such his estimates of locali- 
 ties that his notes of discoveries have proved to be surpris- 
 ingly correct. The Lewis and Clark map, issued in 1814, 
 gives in dotted lines the wanderings of Coulter as he en- 
 tered and left Yellowstone Park, marking it as "Coulter's 
 Route in 1807." The trails and mountain passes described 
 are therein termed discoveries, since no white man had been 
 there before of whom there is record. He was the discoverer 
 of Yellowstone Lake, and first saw that wonderful sight of a 
 mammoth boiling spring, so impregnating the air with the 
 fumes of tar and sulphur that the stream that issued from 
 it was named Stinking River. This was but the beginning 
 of his discoveries, which included many of the geysers and 
 mammoth hot springs. For three years he continued his 
 explorations and trappings upon the tributaries of the 
 Yellowstone and the upper Missouri rivers, until, in the 
 spring of 1810, he dropped into a canoe and, traversing a 
 distance of three thousand miles, reached St. Louis on May 
 i, 1810, after an absence of six years. His descriptions of 
 the geyser land seemed so incredible that they were a con- 
 stant source of ridicule, and the region he described was 
 termed "Coulter-shell," and it was fifty years later before 
 his statements had been so fully verified as to find a place 
 upon the map. When the later Astoria party, so finely 
 
 146
 
 iritoto^ftone 
 
 equipped by Mr. Astor, was to start from St. Louis for that 
 far-off land, Coulter had a longing to accompany it, but a 
 newly married wife and a newly made home a little above 
 St. Louis proved the stronger attraction, and with this 
 decision he passes from our sight; but Coulter had been the 
 first man to tread the wonderland and make a record of 
 his travels. 
 
 James Bridger, the other pioneer explorer to whom I 
 refer, is sometimes spoken of as the "Daniel Boone of the 
 Rockies." He was born in Richmond, Virginia, in 1804, 
 went west at an early age, was a member of the Rocky 
 Mountain Fur Company at the age of twenty-two years, 
 and was known as the "old man of the mountains " before he 
 was thirty. His achievements and his discoveries were many, 
 and as a pioneer of the great West, he surpasses any other 
 man of whom we have knowledge. As a discoverer in the 
 great Rocky Mountain region he, for a long time, was the 
 leading spirit. He was the first white man to discover the 
 Great Salt Lake the first to discover the great mountain 
 pass which bears his name. He built Fort Bridger, so 
 intimately associated with the Mormon movement, the 
 center of many thrilling events in connection with the 
 Indians, and the resting-place for many a weary "Forty 
 Niner" on his way to the gold fields. It is written of him 
 that he was a born topographer, and that his intuitions were 
 such that he could smell his way when he could not see it. 
 
 In his time he became familiar with the whole geyser 
 country, its lakes and streams, its mountains, and its water- 
 falls, and in later years it has been a matter of constant 
 surprise that in his rough way he should have given the 
 
 147
 
 l^omelanti 
 
 topography of the country with such accuracy. As we have 
 said, Coulter's explorations were concluded in 1810, while 
 Bridger 's far more exhaustive ones continued until 1824, 
 the year of my own birth. His reports, like those of 
 Coulter, for years were utterly discredited. He sought the 
 publication of his discoveries in various prominent journals, 
 but they seemed so incredible that his purpose was refused, 
 and the editor of the Kansas City Journal was told "that 
 he would be laughed out of town if he published any of old 
 Jim Bridger 's lies." But Bridger outlived it all, and before 
 his death, which occurred fifty years later, his statements 
 had been verified, and these men who had held him in such 
 derision were prompt to apologize. Among them was the 
 Kansas City Journal, which might have been the first to give 
 to the world a knowledge of his discoveries thirty years be- 
 fore. He lived to see his discoveries amply verified, and 
 died in Washington, Jackson County, Missouri, in 1881, 
 aged 77 years. Following these reports from Coulter and 
 Bridger came others from trappers and miners, so numerous 
 and so confirmatory that, as late as 1859, the United States 
 Government took the matter in hand and ordered a corps 
 of topographical engineers to explore the region of country 
 through which flow the principal tributaries of the Yellow- 
 stone River, and the mountains in which they and the 
 Galatin and Madison forks have their sources. This was 
 named, in honor of its commander, "The Reynolds Expedi- 
 tion," and James Bridger, so long held in derision, was 
 appointed as its guide. With what commendable pride 
 he must have led, as step by step he unfolded to them the 
 wonders of that land, and with them verified the statements 
 
 148
 
 f ritotogtonc f&irfe 
 
 so long held in derision. The report of that expedition had 
 barely been made when the outbreak of the Civil War per- 
 mitted no further thought in that direction. 
 
 Four years after the close of the war the work of explora- 
 tion was again resumed. It was first undertaken as a pri- 
 vate enterprise by a party of three men, who determined to 
 confirm or refute the wonderful statements that were being 
 made. This was in 1868. The famous Yellowstone 
 Expedition of 1870 was partly organized by Government 
 sanction and partly maintained by private enterprise. 
 General Henry D. Washburn, Surveyor- General of Montana, 
 was chief of the expedition, and Lieutenant Doane, in 
 command of the United States Cavalry, with one sergeant 
 and four privates, was detailed from Fort Ellis to act as 
 escort; and that it might represent the Government and 
 the civilian makeup of the enterprise, it was known as the 
 "Washburn and Doane Expedition." 
 
 It was a formidable undertaking, for the Indians were 
 still on the warpath and eager for scalps. When the hour 
 for movement arrived, they found only nine men who were 
 willing to encounter its hazards and brave its dangers. 
 They started from Helena, their objective point being Fort 
 Ellis, one hundred and fifty miles distant. There they 
 met their escort and completed their outfit. 
 
 The party as thus organized numbered nineteen persons, 
 as their historian says, including two packers and two col- 
 ored cooks; their thirty-four horses and mules and provisions 
 for a month's absence completed the outfit. It was to be 
 an expedition surrounded by perils, and, though its men were 
 brave, they were not without their misgivings. Mr. Hedges, 
 
 149
 
 ^omriattfc 
 
 one of the number, who wrote fully of their expedition and 
 from whom I quote, says: "I think a more confirmed set 
 of skeptics never went out into the wilderness than those 
 who composed our party, and never was a party more com- 
 pletely surprised and captivated by the wonders of Nature 
 which were encountered." Lieutenant Doane, so highly 
 esteemed by all who knew him, in his able official report of 
 the expedition confesses that at the outset he shared in that 
 conviction. 
 
 The expedition left Fort Ellis August 22, 1870, and struck 
 what is now the north border of the Park at the mouth of 
 Gardner River, where it enters the Yellowstone. This 
 point is but six miles from the Mammoth Hot Springs, the 
 great northern gateway to the Park. 
 
 On August 26th they entered the park, and from that 
 time on encountered a scene of wonders of which the half 
 had never been told. It is not within my purpose to 
 attempt to tell of what was unfolded to them day by day. 
 It must have been when, after several days' encampment, 
 they stood at length at the summit of what is now Mt. 
 Washburn that their enthusiasm reached its utmost limit 
 and their last misgivings forever vanished. From that 
 grand mountain, towering ten thousand feet above the sea, 
 the like of which is hardly elsewhere known, could be seen 
 in the far view the canyons, the falls, and the beautiful 
 Yellowstone Lake, while the vast plain before them was dot- 
 ted all over with steaming pits and spouting geysers that 
 seemed without number. Although they had now but 
 barely entered upon their work of exploration, what wonder 
 if, standing upon this mountain peak, where no white man 
 
 150
 
 iritotogtone 
 
 had ever stood, their first enthusiasm gave place to reveren- 
 tial awe, as though the earth were preparing for its final 
 doom. At the close of the day Lieutenant Doane writes: 
 "I am more than satisfied with the opening of this cam- 
 paign." From the mountain's height they had beheld the 
 vast panorama. They were now to descend and examine 
 it in detail. They were soon in camp at the Yellowstone 
 Falls, where for untold ages the river has been carving out 
 that wonderful chasm whose many-colored walls give to the 
 canyon an indescribable beauty. They were also at the 
 Upper Basin at an opportune time, when in a single day they 
 saw seven of the principal geysers in action and gave them 
 the names which they bear to-day. "Old Faithful," then, 
 as now, was offering its hourly salutations, and then, as now, 
 commanded unbounded admiration. 
 
 As I have stated, the expedition had left Fort Ellis, 
 August 22, 1870. Its first encampment within the park 
 was on August 25th. Their last camp was pitched at the 
 point where Gibbons and Firehole rivers unite to form 
 Madison River, on September iQth. From this point 
 they made an uneventful journey homeward. 
 
 The news brought back by this now famous expedition at 
 once went worldwide, as it gave to the public their first 
 reliable information respecting this "Prince of Wonder- 
 lands." The official report of Lieutenant Doane, made to 
 the Government in December, 1870, is a model in its way, 
 and was the first official report upon the upper Yellowstone 
 country. 
 
 Who first originated the idea of reserving the whole geyser 
 region from sale and the converting of it into a great nation- 
 is*
 
 J^omrianti 
 
 al park has been a matter of much discussion. The im- 
 portance of such a reservation was freely expressed at the 
 camp-fire even before the expedition had left the park, and 
 it is believed that an article published in the Helena 
 Herald on November 9, 1870, written by Cornelius Hedges, 
 a member of the exploring party was the first public refer- 
 ence to the park system. 
 
 Hon. Nathaniel P. Langford of Helena was one of 
 the most ardent advocates for the creation of a great 
 national park which should include the entire wonderland. 
 During the fall of 1871, he wrote a series of articles in 
 Scribner's Magazine, and lectured in Washington and other 
 cities. In all these the creation of a park was the burden 
 of his theme. The New York Tribune, under date of 
 January 23, 1871, quotes from one of his addresses as fol- 
 lows: "This is probably the most remarkable region of 
 natural attractions in the world, and while we have our 
 Niagara and our Yosemite already, this new field of wonders 
 should be at once withdrawn from occupation and set apart, 
 as a public national park, for the enjoyment of the Ameri- 
 can people for all time." 
 
 A bill for its creation passed the Senate with practically 
 a unanimous vote on January 30, 1872. The bill was con- 
 curred in by the House on February 27th, and on March 
 ist received the President's signature. In 1891 a large 
 addition to the park was made, as a forest reservation, in- 
 creasing the area under park control to five thousand square 
 miles. In each year succeeding the famous pioneer one in 
 1870, important explorations were made both by the Govern- 
 ment and private parties. A series of park superintendents 
 
 152
 
 were placed in control, some of them above reproach and 
 some notoriously otherwise. For a time its management 
 was committed to an organization known as the Yellow- 
 stone Park Improvement Company. The description of 
 its formal opening must be reserved for another number.* 
 
 This chapter was written as an introduction to an account of the won- 
 derful excursion given by Mr. Rufus Hatch to a party of an hundred 
 foreign and American guests at the opening of the Park in August, 1883. 
 Our family were members of this party and it was my father's intention 
 to write his remembrances of this trip, but he never did so. I. H. M.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 THE SAN FRANCISCO EARTHQUAKE 
 
 WE had left Santa Barbara on the morning of April 
 1 7th, and arrived at the Palace Hotel in San 
 Francisco at eleven-thirty the same evening. At 5:15 
 the next morning we were awakened instantly from a 
 sound sleep, and at once recognized that an earthquake 
 was convulsing everything around us. One must pass 
 through such an experience to appreciate what we realized, 
 for it cannot be told. Although the severity of the shock 
 lasted a little less than a minute, it seems now perfectly 
 incredible that so much of thought and dread could be 
 compressed into a single moment. The rotary motion of 
 our immense building was terrific, and when one vertical 
 thud was succeeded by a second, it seemed as though a 
 third would bring the walls crashing down upon us. We 
 were in breathless suspense, but the third was not to come. 
 Soon only the gradually subsiding tremors were felt, and in 
 a few moments all was still. The heavy stucco ornamen- 
 tation had fallen and broken glass was all around us, but 
 the walls of our room were intact and we were unhurt. 
 
 The doors were no longer perpendicular, and ours could 
 not be opened. For the moment we seemed shut in, not 
 knowing what next might befall us. Fortunately our room 
 faced inward upon the immense court one of the charac- 
 teristics of the Palace Hotel and happily our window 
 yielded to my effort, and through this window we could 
 
 154
 
 IN CALIFORNIA, 1906
 
 francigco 
 
 reach a balcony, at the end of which was a series of stairs 
 by which we could effect our escape. As soon as we had 
 completed our dressing for all was now at rest, so far as 
 the earth was concerned we emerged from our prison, and 
 found our way down and into the open street. Here 
 was a scene to behold! Men, women, and children had 
 escaped into the streets for fear of falling walls, and were 
 now a commingled mass in a dazed condition, uncertain 
 what next to do. As our hotel was seemingly free 
 from danger, my wife and I returned to the rotunda and 
 found, by the glimmer of a distant tallow candle, that the 
 office had opened for business. I went thither, found an 
 old gentleman, utterly confused but trying as best he could 
 to run the finances, and settled my bill. I had so far 
 recovered myself that when he handed me a nickel in place 
 of a five-dollar gold piece in making change, I declined the 
 offer. At the moment of the earthquake shock, the 
 preparations for early breakfast were well under way and 
 the doors of the immense serving room were thrown wide 
 open. Not a servant was on duty, although I attempted to 
 corral one as he went running through the court. The 
 first look into the serving room revealed the fact that here 
 was an opportunity. A little man of Jewish persuasion 
 had preceded me, as they often do, and had his hands full 
 of food for his wife and children. Not to be outdone in a 
 thing so laudable I quickly entered upon the same business. 
 There were piles of plates, cups, and spoons, a huge tank of 
 hot coffee, and another of cream; hot rolls were in the 
 chute that sent them from the bakery. With none to 
 say nay, I gathered a free supply, and soon Jenny and I
 
 t)omdan& 
 
 were sitting at one of the many lunch tables in the court, 
 preparing for what might come next over our delicious 
 dishes of coffee and hot rolls. Our morning meal completed, 
 we again betook ourselves to the street, where crowds of 
 people were still as uncertain and aimless as before. We 
 had already heard that the city in the distance was on fire, 
 but now, as we looked down Market Street in the direction 
 of the ferry, we saw it in full blaze, and the fire under the 
 pressure of a strong breeze coming toward us. 
 
 Our purpose had been to cross over to Oakland, but the 
 fire was between us and our friends. .Our next thought 
 was to go to friends the Eastman brothers and their 
 families on Valencia Street. To go to them seemed the 
 safe and immediate thing to do, especially as our course 
 led us away from the fire, which was now assuming alarm- 
 ing proportions. It, by this time, became evident, also, 
 that fires were starting in many places independent of 
 each other, where furnaces were in blast and their chim- 
 neys had been shaken down. Our course lay up Market 
 Street, some three miles to Valencia Street. Mission Street 
 runs parallel with Market Street, and up that street the 
 fire ran so rapidly, consuming wooden buildings, as to keep 
 even pace with us, the best we could do. Of course we 
 were on foot, for not a vehicle could be had for love or 
 money. Our fear was that the fire would get in advance, 
 cross over to our street, and shut us off from our destination. 
 Thus we forged on as best we could, and outran the flames 
 and met our friends. Our meeting was a great surprise, 
 as they had thought us yet in southern California. The 
 first one discovering us at our approach ran, put his hand 
 
 156
 
 francigco <artf)quahe 
 
 upon my shoulder, looked me in the face as if to be sure, and 
 exclaimed: "Lord bless my soul and body where did 
 you come from?" The fronts of their buildings were 
 lying across the sidewalks, the families were in the street, 
 and, of course, human emotions were at their height. It 
 was a glad hour, for now, for the first moment, we felt safe 
 so far as fire was concerned. Whether the earth would 
 again tremble we did not know, but our friends had plenty 
 of teams and men in their employ for our safe conveyance 
 should the fire finally reach this point as it later did. 
 
 During the afternoon the men pre-empted a little resting 
 place in Mission Park, to which a retreat could be made if 
 necessary. It was a fearful afternoon, and for several hours, 
 from a high point, we could only watch the progress of the 
 fire slowly coming towards us as block after block of the 
 finest buildings in the city were being consumed. Steadily 
 the fire was coming towards us, and at two o'clock that 
 night we left the old Eastman homestead, which was soon 
 to disappear, and made our way to a brother's house about 
 a mile away. We had no need of the light of the sun nor of 
 the moon; even the light of the stars was shut out. The 
 blaze of that burning city was all too bright to be endured. 
 We reached the home of Edward Eastman, and awaited the 
 coming of the day. Every hour the fire had been steadily 
 approaching, and at ten o 'clock a cavalry officer came dash- 
 ing up the street, his scabbard rattling at his side, and 
 shouting, "You must all move on at once; these buildings 
 will be dynamited within an hour." The explosions of 
 dynamite in the destruction of buildings for the last twelve 
 hours had been terrific. A walk of another mile brought us
 
 to the early selected camping place at Mission Park. It 
 was now densely crowded by fugitives from the fire, and 
 every available spot was occupied. As the sun rose in the 
 heavens the heat was almost unbearable, and our umbrellas 
 were our only shields. In the early afternoon it became 
 evident that we must make still another move. This need 
 had been early anticipated, and a beautiful spot on a shaded 
 lawn in Golden Park had been secured; and to this sheltered 
 retreat we made our fourth move; and for the first time, 
 at the evening of the second day, felt ourselves safe from 
 the further encroachment of the fire. 
 
 There were now some six families represented in our group, 
 and a sufficiency of food and clothing to make us comfort- 
 able. Our men soon improvised a very efficient camp-fire, 
 and for the first time in the two days since the earthquake we 
 all partook of a substantial meal, prepared as only old pros- 
 pectors and miners knew how to do it. That twilight 
 scene as night drew on was one never to be forgotten. The 
 heavens were ablaze with the light of the burning city, and 
 the great forest trees that intervened seemed sharply sil- 
 houetted upon the sky. At ten o'clock we betook our- 
 selves to mattresses spread upon the grassy lawn, canopied 
 by beautiful shrubbery and stately trees, and with our um- 
 brellas so spread over our heads as to shield us from the dew 
 and the falling ashes. Despite the scenes through which 
 we had passed, there was yet a humorous side. With both 
 homes gone, dear Bessie Eastman put her hands upon the 
 shoulders of her two brothers and, with a nervous laugh, 
 said: "We are all here, and that is enough to be thankful 
 
 158
 
 for." As I have said, two of the men in our company were 
 old-time hunters and prospectors, and most at home when 
 camping out. It was they who prepared our meals upon 
 a little sheet-iron pocket cook stove. It was they who pre- 
 pared a specially nice bed for Mrs. Hollister and myself. 
 It was one of them who went to Jenny and said in a quiet 
 way: "Mrs. H., your bed is now ready; you can say your 
 prayers and go to bed." It was he who came in the small 
 hours and inquired if we wished a cup of hot coffee. We 
 wakened up just enough to say, "No, thanks, " and were 
 again sound asleep. Despite the fact that there were one 
 hundred thousand people camping in the park, and they 
 were constantly coming and going, we both slept soundly 
 and awoke in the early morning refreshed and even 
 invigorated by the pure fresh morning air. A well- 
 prepared breakfast was soon awaiting us. 
 
 Knowing the inexpressible anxiety from which our 
 friends, who knew that we were at the Palace Hotel, must 
 suffer, as they must yet be ignorant of our fate, we longed 
 to be with them. The Eastman brothers determined to 
 make the effort to shun the fire and land us at the ferry by 
 which we might reach our friends in Oakland, and they did 
 it. Mr. George M. Eastman, with a powerful horse and a 
 strong business wagon, finally reached Market Street, which 
 had been swept by the fire, the heat of which had scarcely 
 died down; and along that street, over heaps of brick from 
 fallen walls, along gaping seams of earth, and between fall- 
 ing ruins yet hot and smoldering, we made our way crash- 
 ing over barricades of brick which well-nigh filled the 
 
 159
 
 l^omdanfc 
 
 street, and finally reached the ferry at 8 A. M. We were 
 soon with our friends in Oakland, who had been nearly wild 
 and sleepless by reason of their anxiety. 
 
 The churches in Oakland were all turned into eating 
 houses, and we both lent a helping hand for three days in the 
 feeding of the multitudes. How we did strive to get tele- 
 grams to our children, only to find, after depositing several, 
 that there were five thousand messages ahead of ours, and 
 it was not until five days later that our children had knowl- 
 edge of our safety. 
 
 Our friends in Sacramento were claiming us as their 
 guests, and for a few days we were with them. In the 
 golden days of the early fifties, this was, next to San 
 Francisco, the most famous city on the coast. Here was 
 the famous Fort Sutter, whose owner, Colonel Sutter was 
 digging a mill race in which gold was first discovered. The 
 fort has passed into the hands of the Sons of California, and 
 will be a rallying point for all time to come. 
 
 Another week was spent at Salt Lake with Sister Jean- 
 nette, her two daughters, and their families; and then, turn- 
 ing homeward, we reached Chicago on Thursday, May 9, 
 1906, after an absence of four months. 
 
 The question has often been asked us as to what became 
 of our baggage. The answer is worth recital. When 
 leaving Santa Barbara for San Francisco, I requested to 
 have our baggage checked to Oakland. The agent said 
 he could only check it to San Francisco, as my tickets would 
 need to be validated at San Francisco, and until that was 
 done the baggage could not be checked beyond that point. 
 "But," said he, "I can check it to the Ferry and you can 
 
 1 60
 
 f rancigco <art|)quafee 
 
 send over from Oakland, and it will be delivered to you 
 when your tickets have been signed." So instead of its 
 going to our hotel, where it surely would have been lost, 
 during the night it had been transferred, and when the 
 earthquake occurred it was safely housed at the Ferry. 
 As the fire swept down and threatened to burn the baggage 
 rooms in which were stored cords upon cords of trunks, 
 steamers were chartered and loaded with trunks and went 
 floating in the bay until the fire went down and then 
 were returned; and on the fourth day our trunks came 
 to us safe and sound. 
 
 161
 
 African
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 AFRICAN SLAVERY 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE. At first it was my purpose to trace the 
 progress of slavery in the United States during the period of 
 my remembrance, and the causes which finally led to its over- 
 throw. But that period is so inseparably related to the time 
 and manner of its introduction into this country as to neces- 
 sitate the further consideration of the subject while we were yet 
 colonies. In this connection we are brought directly face to 
 face with the African slave trade, with the thirty years' struggle 
 for British emancipation, the declaration that the slave 
 trade was piracy and thus, to the general subject of slavery. 
 
 The consideration of these several subjects in a successive 
 series of chapters seems best to prepare the way for a very 
 brief review of the progress and final overthrow of slavery as I 
 have been permitted to witness it, beginning with slavery itself. 
 
 HUMAN SLAVERY 
 
 TT is impossible to trace back to any period in the 
 * history of the human race when slavery was unknown. 
 More than three thousand years ago it was in full develop- 
 ment, for then the Phoenicians were actively engaged in 
 capturing people wherever they might and selling them 
 as slaves. The Chinese records show that slavery was 
 prevalent in that empire more than thirteen centuries 
 before the Christian era. The same was true in Syria, in Per- 
 sia, in Babylonia, while in Tyre and Sidon, slaves constituted 
 a majority of the inhabitants. In Abraham's time men 
 
 165
 
 African 
 
 were held in bondage. At that date the Numidians were 
 slave dealers, and when one of their caravans was on 
 its way to Egypt, it seemed vastly better for the sons 
 of Jacob to sell Joseph into bondage rather than that 
 he be left to perish in a pit. The kindred of Joseph went 
 down into Egypt, seventy in number. In process of 
 time their tribes numbered three millions, and all were 
 slaves. It was then that the sons of Ham were the masters 
 and the pale-faced children of Shem were their servants. 
 In our day the line of color is drawn otherwise. The status 
 and treatment of slaves varied greatly, not only as to 
 the age in which they lived, but also in the usages of those 
 nations to whom they were in bondage. Of all the nations, 
 the Germans seemed to have been the most considerate. 
 Many of their slaves became skilled artisans, others, men 
 of letters, and some even became councilors of state. 
 But, though they were sometimes vested with great re- 
 sponsibilities, they were never promoted to the dignity 
 of citizenship. Such conditions must have been indeed 
 exceptional, for the most abject servitude was the common 
 lot of slaves. Both before and after the Christian era 
 wars were waged nation with nation, tribe with tribe 
 not so much for the conquest of territory as for the capture 
 of slaves; and there seems to have been little regard as 
 to the nationality or color. When the Roman legions 
 swept over Gaul and the shores of Scythia, thousands of 
 captives with blue eyes and yellow hair were sent to Rome, 
 and when told that they were Angles, it is said the pontiff 
 exclaimed, "These are the angels." 
 African slavery seems to date from about the time 
 
 166
 
 commercial relations were established between Rome 
 and the city of Carthage, when domestics were imported 
 to the former city, as articles of merchandise. During 
 the days of the Roman republic, domestics were largely 
 obtained in this manner. It was when Rome passed 
 under the rulership of kings that Africa paid heaviest 
 tribute in slaves. When Regulus invaded Carthage in 
 B. c. 256, after a deadly conflict, he took twenty thousand 
 slaves back to the Roman capital. 
 
 But Roman conquests had extended elsewhere far and 
 wide. Africa furnished but a small percentage of those 
 brought home as slaves. When Julius Caesar had con- 
 quered Gaul, he sent home, first and last, more than half a 
 million captives. Augustus Caesar sold thirty-six thousand 
 slaves, the larger part of them able-bodied men, to re- 
 plenish the cost of his campaign. Slaves were in those 
 days considered of commercial value the world over, and 
 often only by this means could the tribute of a conquered 
 people be secured. The result was that, in process of time, 
 Italy literally swarmed with slaves. It was at that period 
 that agriculture was considered the noblest of all callings, 
 and land estates often assumed vast proportions; and we 
 are told that upon one of these alone twenty thousand 
 slaves were employed. But the day of doom for Italy 
 was yet to come, and when it did come the slaves became 
 the masters. During the first century of the Christian 
 era the power of the Gospel to mitigate these evils was 
 markedly manifest. While slaves were still obedient to 
 their masters, masters were also counseled to treat their 
 slaves as Christian brethren. Paul's letter to Philemon 
 
 167
 
 African 
 
 was a special plea for Onesimus, a runaway slave. Wars 
 were continually waged between Christians and the 
 Turks, and while a Christian might not sell his brother, 
 it was no sin for him to sell a Turk. The fortunes of war 
 varied, and on either side large numbers of captives were 
 held, either for sale or ransom. As evidence of this, two 
 instances will suffice among the many that are recorded. 
 
 When the Turks were defeated at the Battle of Lepento 
 in 1577, twelve thousand Christians were liberated; and 
 still earlier, in 1535, when Charles V captured Tunis, 
 he liberated twenty thousand slaves. The capture of 
 defenseless people to be sold into servitude was long 
 continued. 
 
 As late as the fourteenth century the corsairs of the 
 Mediterranean were still a terror to western Europe, and 
 indeed it was not until our own vessels, in 1816, went after 
 them that they were finally exterminated. 
 
 As the years of the Christian era went on, and revolutions 
 in Italy and elsewhere gave freedom to vast numbers whose 
 ancestors had been bondmen, the traffic in slaves nearly 
 ceased, since slavery was no longer found remunerative, 
 and it was no longer possible to enslave the Caucasian race. 
 Gradually for several centuries the demand had been 
 falling off, until not more than three or four hundred 
 slaves were imported in a single year. But with the dis- 
 covery of America there dawned a new era, and with 
 that discovery began the saddest chapters in the history 
 of human slavery. The discovery of the West India 
 islands led to their early occupation by Spanish emigrants, 
 and the rich, alluvial soil of those islands gave such large 
 
 168
 
 i^uman 
 
 returns that field labor was at once in great demand; and 
 it was found that one African negro was worth four of the 
 natives in the cultivation of the soil, since the African 
 climate specially fitted him for the work to be performed in 
 tropical climates. An unlimited demand for African slave 
 labor was the result, and to meet it there commenced a 
 traffic in human beings, known as the African Slave Trade. 
 The first introduction of slaves to the West Indies was 
 made in 1603, when a cargo of African slaves was landed 
 in Hayti, and put to work on the plantations there. The 
 trade had received the sanction of the Spanish Government, 
 when the King, in 1510, ordered fifty slaves to be sent to 
 Hispanola, to work in the gold mines there, thus antedating 
 their introduction to Virginia by one hundred and nine 
 years. It was not until 1582 that England became im- 
 plicated in this African slave traffic, when John Hawkins, 
 partly by trade and partly by violence, secured a cargo 
 of slaves, which he sold in the West Indies at an immense 
 profit. Queen Elizabeth reproved him sharply for this 
 transaction, but seems to have shared in the profits, and 
 later bestowed upon him the honor of knighthood. That 
 Queen Anne also lent her sanction to the trade is evident 
 from the fact that when the "Royal African Company" 
 was formed, which contracted to furnish the English 
 Government a sufficient supply of merchantable negroes 
 to meet the demands of her colonies, she subscribed for one 
 fourth of the stock. That the slave trade was considered 
 a legitimate business is evident, for between the years 1729 
 and 1750, the British Government made appropriations 
 to the amount of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars 
 
 169
 
 African 
 
 for the building, repairing, and maintaining of forts and 
 slave pens on the coast of Africa. An important fact should 
 here be noted, that in the year 1641 the culture of sugarcane 
 was first introduced into the island of Barbadoes. This 
 new industry soon became exceedingly profitable and 
 greatly increased the demand for slaves. From this time 
 on, the slave traffic, under the British flag, went forward 
 by leaps and bounds. In 1662, Charles II char- 
 tered "The Royal Trading Company of Africa," which 
 bound itself to deliver three thousand slaves annually 
 to the British West India islands. As evidence of the 
 enormous proportions to which the traffic early attained, 
 we have only to state the number of vessels in the leading 
 English ports, fitted exclusively for that purpose. Thus 
 the records show that, hi the year 1762, London had 135, 
 Bristol 157, Liverpool 187, numbering in all in these 
 three ports, 479 vessels devoted to the slave trade. 
 
 It is asserted that, at this time, the Government thus 
 derived a greater revenue than from all other sources 
 combined, and it is a proud record for the English people 
 that, in the face of such pecuniary profits, they were able 
 to achieve a bloodless overthrow of slavery, by the triumph 
 of moral sentiment. But the day of deliverance was not 
 to be, as we shall see, until after a desperate struggle which 
 lasted for thirty years. In the West Indies the demand for 
 slaves far exceeded the supply, while during our colonial 
 period the culture of tobacco and indigo made slave labor 
 immeasurably profitable, and especially so after the cul- 
 ture of cotton was introduced, and the cotton gin had been 
 invented by Eli Whitney in 1793. The soil in the Gulf 
 
 170
 
 i^unian 
 
 states was not only wonderfully adapted for its cultivation, 
 but the climate was just suited to its needs. The invention 
 of the cotton gin increased the production and manu- 
 facture at home, and the exportation was simply marvelous. 
 England soon entered largely into its importation, and it 
 was not long before the larger supply was received from 
 the United States. The Gulf States were awakened to 
 unparalleled activity in securing slave labor. The demand 
 for slaves so far exceeded the supply, both in the West 
 Indies and the United Colonies, as greatly to enhance 
 the price, and the profits were such as to stimulate the 
 utmost exertion. 
 
 In securing slaves for shipment, no means, however 
 diabolical, were left untried that would insure the result. 
 Kidnaping in every form was common, and when this 
 method was exhausted, every conceivable means were used 
 to incite intertribal wars; and these wars for the securing 
 of captives to be sold to the coast trade extended far inland, 
 tribe after tribe was annihilated until African soil was 
 literally stained with blood. Captives thus taken, con- 
 sisting of men, women, and children, were hurried to the 
 coast, gathered, assorted, and sold by the cargo. In all 
 human history there is but one bloodier picture than that 
 which describes the horrors of the Middle Passage. 
 
 This term may need a word of explanation. Whether 
 they sailed from England or America, slave vessels made 
 their first voyage to the African coast to secure their 
 cargoes. When freighted with slaves the voyage to the 
 place of sale was termed the middle passage, the third 
 being the return to the home port. 
 
 171
 
 African 
 
 Of the horrors of that middle passage no adequate 
 description can be given. Able writers have essayed the 
 task, only to find themselves unequal to it. So far as its 
 history has been written, every line seems written in blood 
 and every page crimson with crime. The insatiable thirst 
 for gold seemed to blot out the last vestige of human 
 sympathy and render men veritable devils incarnate. 
 Such were the profits derived from the trade that, if half the 
 cargo died on the way, the surviving ones would yet yield 
 a handsome income. If slaves could be bought in Africa at 
 fifteen dollars each, and sold in the Indies or the American 
 colonies for from one hundred and fifty to two hundred dol- 
 lars each, a prosperous voyage brought quick returns, no 
 matter what their condition, nor how many died on the way. 
 A few words as to the condition of slaves on shipboard must 
 suffice. If the slaver was successful in securing a cargo, 
 the capacity of the ship was taxed to the utmost, the 
 number varying from three hundred to one thousand, 
 according to the size of the ship and the success in gather- 
 ing the shipload. The men were handcuffed, two and two, 
 and then ankle-chained to long iron rods, from which there 
 was no possibility of escape. Temporary shelves were also 
 constructed between decks, and every possible space in 
 the hold was utilized. The average space allowed for 
 each slave was eighteen inches abreast, four and a half 
 feet in length, with three feet of breathing space above. 
 Sometimes vessels were becalmed, and when food and water 
 gave out, a portion of the living were thrown overboard 
 with the dead, that the surviving ones might yet be sold 
 and thus, so far as they might, diminish the loss. 
 
 172
 
 Duniaii 
 
 These horrors were still more intensified when pestilence 
 was bred in the vessel and the ship's crew were so swept 
 away that not enough remained to bring the vessel into 
 port. It is reported that the odor from these floating 
 charnel houses could be detected for miles at sea. Human 
 sympathy and pecuniary gain alike should have prompted 
 a treatment more humane, but to those claims ignorance 
 and avarice were blind. The sufferings of those poor 
 heathen, torn from their homes and their children, doomed 
 to perpetual slavery, can never be told; and yet some 
 pious souls there were who sanctioned the traffic, since 
 these benighted heathen might thus be brought into the 
 pale of civilization and Christianized. 
 
 But at length the cup of their suffering was nearing the 
 brim, and the day of their deliverance drew nigh. His eye 
 that never slumbers and His ear that is never deaf saw 
 their sufferings and heard their piteous prayer. The 
 day of their deliverance, both in England and this country, 
 falls within the period of my remembrance, and this fact 
 has prompted the penning of these chapters. At last the 
 command "Let my people go" sank deeply into the 
 hearts of men, and by men, as the instruments of God, His 
 purpose was fulfilled. 
 
 England, which had been most responsible for the wrong, 
 was first to hear the mandate. After a struggle which 
 lasted over thirty years, the moral sense of her people 
 triumphed over every pecuniary obstacle, and every slave 
 in the British empire went free. 
 
 The history of British emancipation is so replete with 
 interest as to warrant a separate chapter. 
 
 173
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 BRITISH EMANCIPATION 
 
 THE struggle which went on in England for over thirty 
 years, and which eventuated in the abolition of 
 slavery in all the British Empire, represents one of the most 
 remarkable triumphs of moral principle that the world has 
 ever known. It easily ranks next to that of the triumph of 
 Christianity in its inherent power to move the hearts of 
 men and bear them on to victory. The opening paragraph 
 of our own Declaration of Independence was no idle asser- 
 tion that men have certain inalienable rights, for those 
 rights our colonies had fought and won. During all the 
 years of that eventful war, deep down in the hearts of 
 Englishmen there dwelt a consciousness that our cause 
 was just, and in the year 1787, the very year in which 
 our people were forging that wonderful instrument, "The 
 American Constitution," there began that great move- 
 ment in England which resulted in the emancipation of 
 slaves throughout the British Empire. 
 
 Volumes have been written descriptive of the inception, 
 development, and conclusion of that gigantic struggle, and 
 at most I only propose to touch upon a few of the most 
 salient points in its history. 
 
 The enormities of the slave trade, though they had been 
 steadily increasing for more than a hundred years, had thus 
 far failed to arouse the public conscience; partly through 
 ignorance, and partly through indifference, that conscience 
 
 174
 
 Emancipation 
 
 had slumbered on. It was not until the iniquity of the 
 trade had reached its utmost limit and the cup of sorrow 
 had been filled to its brim, that the hand of the oppressor 
 was stayed and the captive set free and by Him who 
 rules the destinies of men, it was ordered that, as man had 
 been enslaved by man, so by man should he be set free, 
 and not by miraculous interference. 
 
 Momentous events in the world 's history have often had 
 their inception in very limited and even obscure beginnings, 
 a fact well illustrated in the commencement of the great 
 abolition movement. And let it ever be remembered to the 
 honor of her sex that it was a woman who fired the train 
 which was to convulse the whole British Empire and bring 
 to a finish the work of emancipation. 
 
 The beginnings of that movement are of such interest as 
 to warrant me in referring to them somewhat minutely. 
 
 The first case that I find on record is that of a slave who 
 was liberated in the English court by a technicality, and 
 not on the ground of his inherent right to freedom. The 
 case was this: A slave named Strong had been brought to 
 England by a Barbadoes planter. Strong ran away from 
 his master, was recaptured and sold to one John Kerr and 
 placed on shipboard to be sold in Jamaica. A kind-hearted 
 brother of Granville Sharp became aware of the facts and 
 was deeply interested in the man. Through his influence, 
 Granville Sharp, one of the most noted advocates at the 
 English bar, took up the case and, by a writ of habeas corpus, 
 the slave was brought into Court and was liberated on the 
 ground that he had been kidnaped, and therefore could 
 not be legally held. 
 
 175
 
 African 
 
 But there was soon to follow another, in which the 
 question of slavery in England was to be settled for all 
 time to come. It became widely known as the celebrat- 
 ed "Somerset Case." Its history briefly is this: In 
 November, 1769, Charles Stewart, a Virginia planter, 
 brought a slave to England named James Somerset. As 
 in the case previously cited, Somerset also ran away; he was 
 captured and placed on shipboard to be sold in Jamaica. 
 Here again Granville Sharp appeared as counsel for the 
 slave. This time a writ of habeas corpus brought the slave 
 into the presence of Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, and his 
 enslavement or his freedom was not to be determined by a 
 technicality. The influence of that decision was to be far- 
 reaching for while it only pronounced the rights of slaves 
 in England, the principle would be world- wide in its applica- 
 tion. At that time the hindrances to the liberation of 
 slaves seemed almost insurmountable. The sympathies 
 of the masses were but little aroused for that portion of 
 the race of which they had little knowledge. Again, the 
 prejudice against the African as a sort of human being upon 
 whom, somehow, the curse of Cain rested, was well-nigh uni- 
 versal. But a far more powerful influence than ignorance 
 or racial prejudice was that of commercial gain. In time 
 the slave trade had become almost inseparably related 
 to nearly all the business interests of the world. Govern- 
 ment revenue the profit in slaves the agricultural 
 demands for slave labor and all the varied interests that 
 derived profit from its continuance, conspired to prevent 
 the least interference with that traffic. And there before 
 that court, single-handed and alone, stood Granville Sharp 
 
 176
 
 Emancipation 
 
 and his poor slave representing in his person the rights 
 of a man. 
 
 Opposed to him were the ablest barristers that the wealth 
 of England could procure, strongly buttressed by the strong 
 prejudice of an ignorant public sentiment. At length the 
 last argument for the rendition of the slave had been made, 
 and the hour for Granville Sharp had come. He had right- 
 ly measured the magnitude of the issue, and he was equal to 
 that hour. When he came to plead for the rights of a man, 
 rights so dear to every English heart, his words were sharper 
 than any two-edged sword, and when his peroration culmi- 
 nated in the question: "Shall right prevail in England?" 
 it struck a thousand responsive chords in British breasts, 
 which later were to espouse his cause. The case was not 
 to be decided in an hour. From January until June, 1772, 
 it was under advisement, and what a waiting there was for 
 that decision. Justice was listening; the dealers and the 
 planters were listening ; all moneyed interests were listen- 
 ing; not only Granville Sharp, but the friends of the 
 slave both in England and America, were listening also. 
 At length the decision was handed down. The terse, calm, 
 but forceful utterances of Justice Mansfield were such as to 
 place his name among the ever memorable blessed. I can 
 only quote the closing sentences, in which he says: 
 
 "The power claimed in this return was never in use here. 
 We cannot say the cause set forth by this return is allowed 
 or approved of by the laws of this Kingdom, and therefore 
 the man must be discharged." The final fruitage of that 
 decision was to be the abolition of slavery both in Europe 
 and America. How it was to be accomplished no mortal 
 
 177
 
 African 
 
 could yet forecast. It is now one hundred and thirty-eight 
 years since that decision was made. The deed has been 
 accomplished, and that through human agency, controlled 
 by an overruling Providence. England wisely gave to the 
 question a peaceful solution. The United States did other- 
 wise, and the retribution that followed was commensurate 
 with their guilt. In England the appeal to the moral sense 
 was not in vain. Slowly but surely the public conscience 
 was aroused and awakened to the enormity of the crime, 
 but it took fifteen years for convictions to culminate in 
 action. The inception of that action was as follows: 
 
 During the period intervening between 1772 and 1779, 
 Sir Charles Middleton, in command of a British man-of- 
 war, was stationed in the West Indies. He had aboard 
 a surgeon named Ramsey. Dr. Ramsey married a lady 
 at St. Kitts, and settled on that island. While there 
 he concluded to take orders and enter the service of the 
 Church. He went to England, took orders, and became 
 a clergyman. Returning to St. Kitts, he saw a great deal 
 of the manner in which negroes were treated, and felt the 
 greatest pity for them. Having become acquainted with 
 the horrors of the trade by which they were obtained, he 
 was still more shocked by the indignities and cruelties to 
 which these poor creatures were subjected on their passage 
 from Africa to the islands, and by the brutal manner in 
 which, like cattle, they were bought and sold, and by the 
 severities of the servitude to which they were subjected. 
 
 Later he returned to England and settled at Maidstone, 
 near Kent. His special patroness was Lady Bouviere, a 
 friend of Lady Middleton, and the wife of Sir Charles 
 
 178
 
 Emancipation 
 
 Middle ton, to whom we have referred as commander in the 
 British Navy, but who was now a member of the House of 
 Commons and represented the important Borough of 
 Rochester. Lady Middleton was a lady of exceptional 
 ability and of indefatigable energy. As she listened to the 
 recitals of the knowledge and personal experiences of Dr. 
 Ramsey, her heart was so stirred within her that she could 
 not rest, and she went at once to her husband and said: 
 "Sir Charles, I think you ought to bring this subject before 
 the House, and demand parliamentary investigation into 
 the nature of the traffic so disgraceful to the British char- 
 acter." Sir Charles at once admitted the justice of her 
 proposal, but, as he had never made a speech in Parliament, 
 he stated that she would be committing it to bad hands, 
 but that he would strenuously support any able member 
 who would undertake it. 
 
 She then wrote an urgent letter to Dr. Ramsey, urging 
 him to publish for the English people the facts as he had 
 known them with reference to the African slave trade and 
 the treatment of slaves in the West Indies. In compliance 
 with this request, Dr. Ramsey issued an essay, "On the 
 Treatment of, and Traffic in, Slaves." The book produced 
 a profound impression and raised a storm of indignation. 
 It was published in 1787, and for two years the author 
 stood for its defense, breasting the most violent opposition, 
 until, borne down by overexertion, he died in 1789. 
 
 In that memorable year, 1787, the question was being 
 canvassed as to the member best able to champion the 
 petition to be presented to Parliament. Casually the name 
 of Wilberforce was mentioned. Though yet a young man, 
 
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 African 
 
 he had been triumphantly elected from York, the strongest 
 borough in the kingdom, and had already displayed superior 
 talent and great eloquence in the House of Commons. 
 Lady Middleton at once implored her husband to write to 
 Mr. Wilberforce and urge him to present the petition to 
 the House. Mr. Wilberforce did not deny the request 
 but promised to take the question under advisement. As 
 we proceed we shall discover how, by previous interest in 
 the slave question, by his rare talent and his commanding 
 position, he proved above all others the one needed to lead 
 in the coming struggle. That the miseries of Africa had 
 long attracted his attention is evident from an extract from 
 his journal, in which, in his early boyhood, he says: "It is 
 somewhat worthy of attention as indicative of the provi- 
 dential impulse by which we are led in particular lines of 
 conduct, that as early as the year 1780, I had been thor- 
 oughly interested in the condition of the West India slaves. 
 And in a letter asking my friend Gordon, then going to 
 Antigua, to collect information for me, I expressed then my 
 determination, at least my hope, that some day or other I 
 should redress the wrongs of those degraded beings." All 
 along his younger years the subject had been much upon 
 his mind. And here, I think, we may note another marked 
 instance where a man is specially raised up under Divine 
 Providence for the fulfilment of His purposes. 
 
 Mr. Wilberforce was now to enter upon the great work of 
 his life and, after a struggle of more than thirty years, was 
 permitted to witness its final triumph. As he began this 
 work, his previous interest in the slaves and his knowledge of 
 their conditions were to be turned to practical account. At 
 
 180
 
 ^Emancipation 
 
 this date, 1 7 8 7 , he writes : "It was the condition of the West 
 India slaves which first drew my attention, and it was in the 
 course of my inquiries that I was led to Africa and aboli- 
 tion." He further states: "God has set before me two 
 great objects the suppression of the slave trade and the 
 reformation of manners." 
 
 Not Middleton 's alone, but many noble hearts in England 
 were being moved as by a common impulse. The famous 
 decision of Lord Mansfield, five years before, and the later 
 triumphs of Granville Sharp worked like leaven and ac- 
 complished a wonderful result. The records show that for 
 months a number of prominent men in private lif e, in confi- 
 dence, had been exchanging views upon this subject. As 
 a result of these private conferences they determined to 
 take immediate action, and form themselves into a commit- 
 tee to raise funds and collect information necessary for 
 procuring the abolition of the slave trade. 
 
 Their first meeting was held May 22, 1787. Twelve 
 persons were present, mostly London merchants, and all 
 but two of them Quakers. At this meeting, Granville 
 Sharp was made chairman, and this, I think, was the first 
 anti-slavery organization in England. It grew rapidly in 
 numbers and in influence, and in the coming struggle be- 
 came a most efficient power. 
 
 For the time, it was not deemed wise that Mr. Wilber- 
 force should be publicly identified with the organization, 
 although from the first his was the guiding hand in all its 
 movements. From every available source, Mr. Wilber- 
 force had been indefatigable in his efforts to obtain exact 
 data, to fortify any statements he might make with evi- 
 
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 African 
 
 dence that could not be questioned. He had prepared a 
 motion to be presented to the House for the appointment 
 of a committee to consider the conditions of the slave trade, 
 the discussion of which should be fixed for some later date. 
 Just then he was smitten down with a severe illness, and 
 for a time it seemed a serious question as to his recovery. 
 His overardent abolition friends were impatient of delay, 
 and he himself saw the necessity of heeding that impatience. 
 William Pitt, the leader in the House of Commons, and 
 deemed the ablest debater in that body, was not only a close 
 friend of Wilberforce but, like him, an ardent abolitionist. 
 At the earnest request of Mr. Wilberforce, Pitt consented to 
 introduce the motion, which was to be again and again re- 
 peated until, finally, slavery was overthrown. It is worthy of 
 remark that, though the great majority of the House was 
 opposed to its introduction, and thus becoming a national 
 issue, four of the ablest men on that floor were strongly 
 committed to the abolition question. Their names were 
 William Pitt, Edmund Burke, Charles Fox, and William 
 Wilberforce. 
 
 To show the strength of Mr. Wilberforce and the manner 
 in which he was regarded by the organized Society, when 
 quite a formidable movement was made by those who de- 
 spaired of his recovery or of his future ability to lead the 
 movement in the House, and suggested that his successor 
 be appointed, the reply of the Society was that if, at last, 
 Mr. Wilberforce should be unable to resume his post, they 
 would leave to him the naming of his successor. At the 
 same time they wrote to him for his advice in the emergency. 
 
 The session of the House was now far spent, and it was 
 
 182
 
 Emancipation 
 
 deemed advisable to postpone the discussion of Mr. Pitt's 
 motion until another session. In the meantime, a number 
 of Mr. Wilberf orce 's friends, under the leadership of Dr. 
 William Dalson, determined to inspect the condition of the 
 slave-ships and see for themselves what those conditions 
 were. It had been stoutly asserted that self-interest on 
 the part of the owners would prompt them to provide 
 comfortable quarters and proper care for the slaves while 
 making the middle passage. On the contrary, these in- 
 vestigators found that slaves were crowded into spaces so 
 exceedingly small as to aggravate their sufferings, and 
 cause, from the spread of infectious diseases, a prodigious 
 mortality. At once it was determined that such enormities 
 should not go unheeded and that a bill should be intro- 
 duced during the present session, limiting the number of 
 slaves to be carried in accordance with the capacity of the 
 ship, and providing certain precautions against their suffer- 
 ings. The bill encountered fierce opposition on the part 
 of the slave merchants and those who were reaping profits 
 from the trade. It resulted not only in bringing these 
 conditions to the knowledge of Parliament, but also to the 
 English people generally. The immediate effect wh ch 
 this report produced is evident from the fact that the bill, 
 introduced May i4th, passed the house on June loth, was 
 carried in the House of Lords on July nth, and on the fol- 
 lowing day received the royal signature. True, the bill 
 for the abolition of slavery was to slumber for another 
 year, but the pronouncement against such inhuman treat- 
 ment of slaves was preparing the way for that dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 183
 
 African 
 
 During the latter part of that year, Mr. Wilberforce was 
 slowly regaining his health and collecting by every possible 
 means unquestionable evidence for the truth of the asser- 
 tions he was preparing to make when the motion was called 
 up. Months were spent in the collection, and he availed 
 himself of much associate help in maturing the work. 
 Every objection of his opponents was studiously antici- 
 pated and as fully as they could be formulated he was 
 prepared to answer them. He firmly believed that Provi- 
 dence was on the side of those who carried the heaviest 
 guns and a full supply of ammunition. It was known for 
 months, that in the discussion of that question, he was to 
 encounter the most ferocious opposition which the allies 
 of the slave trade could command, and one of his 
 stanchest supporters wrote to him jocosely as follows: "I 
 shall expect to read in the newspapers of your being 
 carbonized by the West India planters, barbecued by 
 African merchants, and eaten by Guinea merchants, but 
 be not daunted, for I shall write your epitaph." 
 
 At length, on the i2th of May, 1789, the question was 
 brought before the House, and we must remember that his 
 auditors were the leading men of the nation. The manner 
 in which, in his journal, he makes mention of his effort well 
 indicates the modesty of the man. He writes: "When 
 I came to town I was sadly unfit for work, but by the help 
 of Divine Grace I was able to make my motion so as to give 
 satisfaction in three hours and a half. I had not prepared 
 my language or gone over all my matter, but being well 
 acquainted with the whole subject, I got on." His speech 
 was a masterful one, and his shafts pierced the vitals of the 
 
 184
 
 Emancipation 
 
 slave trade with wounds that were never to be healed. As 
 to its effect upon the House, a few quotations will suffice. 
 While still under its influence, Mr. Burke said: "The 
 House, the nation and Europe are under great obligation 
 to the gentleman for having brought forward the subject in 
 a manner the most masterly, impressively and eloquently." 
 Mr. Fox said the principles were so well laid down and 
 supported by such force and order that it equaled anything 
 he had heard in modern times, and was not to be surpassed, 
 perhaps, in the remains of Grecian eloquence. Mr. Pitt 
 was equally enthusiastic. Bishop Porteous, then Bishop of 
 London, who heard the speech, wrote on the following day 
 to Reverend Mr. Mason as follows: "It was with heart- 
 felt satisfaction that Mr. Wilberforce yesterday opened 
 the important subject of the slave practice in the House of 
 Commons, in one of the ablest and most eloquent speeches 
 that was ever heard in that or any other place. It con- 
 tinued upwards of three hours, and made a sensible and 
 powerful impression upon the House. Mr. Pitt, Mr. Burke, 
 Mr. Fox, and all agreed in declaring that the slave trade 
 was the disgrace and opprobrium of the whole country, and 
 that nothing but abolition could cure so monstrous an evil. 
 It was a glorious night for the country. I was in the House 
 from five until eleven o'clock." Wilberforce's facetious 
 friend, Mr. Gisborne, who had promised to write his epitaph, 
 wrote: "I congratulate you, not only on account of your 
 speech, but for the effect it has produced and the manner in 
 which it is supported by others, even by the inconsistent 
 and incomprehensible Burke. Lord Erskine wrote: "I 
 congratulate you sincerely on the auspicious appearances 
 
 185
 
 African Jrtatoerp 
 
 which have followed from the exercise of very great talent 
 in a very great cause." These, from many similar expres- 
 sions, must suffice. The opposition succeeded in producing 
 witnesses to challenge the truth of his assertions, and a 
 heated debate went on until the 23rd of June, when the 
 question was laid over until the next session. 
 
 In the meantime, the Middle Passage Bill was re-enacted 
 by a very large majority. The House was willing to mitigate 
 the miseries of slaves on shipboard, but not to abolish the 
 trade. From this time on, the opposition adopted the tac- 
 tics of delay and sought by every means to controvert the 
 statements of the advocates of abolition, bringing all man- 
 ner of witnesses to their help. Thus the discussions went 
 on, in the successive sessions of 1789, 1790, and 1791. The 
 tendency of the nation was to political repose, and more and 
 more to repress the cause of abolition; and, though there were 
 few able defenders of the trade on the floor, there was a 
 silent vote which told heavily against it, so that in 1791, 
 when the question came to vote, it stood 88 for and 163 
 against it. (Mr. Wilberforce 's motion.) 
 
 Though it was useless to seek to effect a change in the 
 House, it was evident that the appeal must now be made to 
 their constituents. During these years Mr. Wilberforce 
 and his friends had been busy in preparing literature to be 
 circulated among the people. Among the many documents 
 prepared was one containing the evidence, and another, 
 the discussions in the House. Mr. Wilberforce prepared 
 an abundance of literature, conducted correspondence far 
 and wide, and, being the possessor of wealth, was able to 
 disseminate his views over the entire country. Mr. Clark- 
 
 186
 
 ^Emancipation 
 
 son and Mr. Dickson were employed as agents to spread 
 abroad this literature in all the provincial towns. Although 
 Mr. Clarkson thus simply acted as an agent, he afterwards 
 wrote a book upon the History of Emancipation, in which 
 he claimed to have been the leader in the great work. He 
 was employed to make addresses, but he never made one 
 in the House of Commons, or acted otherwise than as an 
 employed agent. The appeal was to the moral sense of 
 the English people. Both in England and in Scotland its 
 influence began to be felt very largely. County mass 
 meetings were held and master petitions from all over the 
 country went up to the House of Commons, and, be it said 
 to their credit, the clergy were in favor of it to a man. In 
 1792, the House put itself on record as favoring gradual 
 emancipation, without fixing the date, by a vote of 283 to 
 85. The abolition promoters were congratulated on every 
 hand and yet, says Mr. Wilberforce : "I am humiliated, for 
 I never will bring forward a Parliamentary license to rob 
 and murder, and we must force the gradual abolitionists 
 to allow as short a time as possible." 
 
 On the 23rd of April, 1792, Mr. Dundas brought forward 
 a bill for gradual emancipation to go into effect January 
 i, 1795, which was defeated by a vote of 181 to 125, but 
 nothing daunted another vote was taken, making the date 
 January i, 1796, which was carried by a vote of 157 to 132. 
 By this vote the House placed itself on record as favoring 
 General Emancipation in 1796, and its friends were earnest 
 in their congratulations. Still an appeal was taken from 
 the vote, and the debate went over to another session. 
 
 To appreciate the struggle in its behalf and the opposi- 
 
 187
 
 African 
 
 tion which it encountered, it is well to note the action taken 
 by the House during the successive years. In the year 
 1793, the bill was carried in the house but was lost in the 
 House of Lords. For five following years it was introduced 
 each year, and each year defeated. For three years more, 
 from 1800 to 1804, final action was deferred until the next 
 yearly session. But, during all this time, the friends of the 
 cause remained undaunted, and were successfully educating 
 the people as to the extent and turpitude of the crime. In 
 1804 there seemed to be a tidal wave in their favor, and the 
 most sanguine were surprised at their own success when, by 
 the aid of the Irish members, the vote was carried in the 
 House by 124 to 49, but lost in the House of Lords. A 
 year later the vote in the house stood 99 to 33, but was 
 again defeated in the House of Lords. 
 
 Now, for a time, the further progress of the work was 
 seriously retarded, for Napoleon appeared on the scene, 
 and all Europe, for the succeeding years, was in most anxious 
 suspense. It seems necessary to refer briefly to his career 
 so far as it affects the progress of emancipation. 
 
 In 1799, Napoleon had become first Consul of France, 
 and at once assumed the role of dictator. His ambition 
 was to glorify France, that France might glorify him. In 
 the fulfilment of that purpose England was his most bitter 
 rival, and England must be humiliated. The English 
 people knew full well the situation. They knew that across 
 the narrow channel were two hundred thousand enthusiastic 
 soldiers, eager to obey his command if Napoleon should 
 seek to plant his legions on British soil. At once the ut- 
 
 188
 
 Emancipation 
 
 most efforts were put forth for its defense, and at this critical 
 period there was no room for minor questions. As yet the 
 real purpose of Napoleon had not been revealed, which was 
 to extend his conquests far and wide upon the continent, and 
 then, by the accumulated strength of conquered provinces 
 and the eclat of repeated victories, crush England by sheer 
 force, or compel her to surrender by cutting off her supplies. 
 First came the subjugation of Austria, then the Germanic 
 provinces, and, later, Italy and Spain. These were to be 
 but preliminary movements for the subjugation of England 
 and the establishment of a dominating French Empire, over 
 which he should be the ruling monarch. The British at 
 the outset failed to divine his vast project and, laboring 
 under the impression that they were to be the immediate 
 subjects of his attack, put forth every possible effort to resist 
 invasion. 
 
 It is not necessary to further divert to a history of 
 that struggle more than to state that, while England 
 was thus agitated to her utmost, the cause of emancipation 
 had taken such firm rooting in English minds that the 
 cause was steadily advancing, and that, while there was in- 
 tense loyalty to the Government, there was a constantly 
 growing sympathy for the slave. The later elections gave 
 evidence in the changed complexion of the House on the 
 slave question. When, in 1806, a resolution was offered in 
 the House of Commons declaring the slave trade to be con- 
 trary to the principles of justice, humanity, and sound 
 policy, and that the House proceed with all practicable 
 expediency to abolish it, the vote stood 100 to 14. Such 
 
 189
 
 African 
 
 an expression could not be ignored by King George, or by 
 the House of Lords. The crisis in the House of Lords 
 came a year later when, on January 28th, the vote for the 
 abolition of slavery passed that body by a vote of 100 to 
 32. On the 22nd of February following, the question of 
 the abolition of slavery came up in the House of Commons 
 for the last time. With the large accession of new members, 
 the enthusiasm engendered in the debate was beyond all 
 precedent, and when, in connection with the struggle which 
 had continued for thirty years, the name of Wilberforce 
 was mentioned, the house broke forth hi a tumultuous cheer, 
 a thing unknown in that august body. Now came the last 
 final vote, which stood 283 to 16. On the 26th of March, 
 1807, the bill for the abolition of the African slave trade 
 received the royal signature. 
 
 But, while England had declared the slave trade piracy, 
 she had yet to deal with the slaves held in her own colonies, 
 and it was not until 1833 that the supreme hour came, and 
 she voted a tax of one hundred millions of dollars as com- 
 pensation to be paid to their owners for the liberation of 
 one million slaves. For thirty years she had expended a 
 million dollars annually to maintain her African squadron 
 for the suppression of the trade, and it would seem that her 
 zealous search of slavers carrying the American flag, quite 
 as much as the alleged seizure of American seamen, brought 
 on the War of 1812. 
 
 While England had been most responsible for the develop- 
 ment of the slave trade, to her honor be it said she was fore- 
 most in its abolition, and, finally, in freeing every slave be- 
 neath the British flag. That was a glad day for the colored 
 
 190
 
 Emancipation 
 
 race when, on August i, 1834, every slave on British soil 
 became a freeman. So recently did this emancipation occur 
 as to fall well within my own remembrance, for I was then 
 ten years old. The United States refused to profit by this 
 noble example, and was destined later to reap the terrible 
 fruits of her refusal. 
 
 191
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES 
 
 WHILE it is my purpose to write of African slavery 
 as it has existed in the United States during the 
 period of my remembrance, it seems essential to make brief 
 reference to its earlier history. At the time of its introduc- 
 tion, our Colonies were subjects of Great Britain and the 
 traffic in African slaves was universally considered legiti- 
 mate. We have to remember that at that period various 
 forms of peonage were prevalent the world over. Among 
 the nations of Europe men often sold their service for a 
 period of time, and even that of their wives and children hi 
 payment of debt, and it was not unusual for persons to sell 
 their service for life as a provision for old age. 
 
 In all our colonies there were large numbers of emigrants 
 who pledged a definite amount of future service in payment 
 for their transportation hither. It must be remembered, 
 too, that in the planting of these colonies there was every- 
 where a most urgent demand for manual labor. This was 
 especially true in Virginia, as a large number of her first 
 emigrants were unaccustomed to the kind of labor needful 
 for the securing of their daily bread. The brain was there, 
 but the brawn was wanting. The colonists were well ad- 
 vised of the profits which the planters in the West Indies 
 derived from slave labor, and it was but a short step from 
 indentured service to the employment of slaves for life, 
 and just then the time seemed ripe for such an opportunity. 
 
 192
 
 in t$t ftnitefc 
 
 It was then that the Dutch were the leading maritime trad- 
 ers of the world, and the commander of one of these vessels, 
 while nearing the West Indies with a cargo consisting partly 
 of negroes, was advised to try the market in Virginia, and he 
 immediately set sail for that shore. For the precise date 
 of his arrival we are indebted to the notes of Mr. John 
 Rolfe, the husband of Pocahontas, from which the follow- 
 ing is an extract: "A Dutch man of war, that sold us 
 twenty negroes came to Jamestown late in August, 1619." 
 While neither the name of the commander nor that of the 
 ship have been preserved, this record fixes the precise date 
 of the introduction of slavery into the United States, then 
 the British Colonies, thus antedating by one year the land- 
 ing of the Mayflower at Plymouth. 
 
 From that time on, the introduction of slaves steadily in- 
 creased, as the colonists found means for their purchase. 
 An instance in point is this: 
 
 In 1630, an English slaver which had secured a cargo of 
 slaves brought them directly to Virginia and exchanged 
 them for eighty-five hogsheads and five bales of tobacco 
 which went to the London market. Nor was the traffic 
 confined to our own Colonies. The Dutch then held posses- 
 sion of Manhattan, now New York, and immediately upon 
 their settlement there, slaves were introduced. The first 
 record of transaction in slaves shows that as early as 1629 
 the business was well under way, since a permit was then 
 granted for the incorporation of the "West India Com- 
 pany," in which it was stipulated that "the company shall 
 endeavor to supply the colony with as many Blacks as they 
 conveniently can and shall allow to each Patroon, twelve 
 
 193
 
 African 
 
 Blacks, men and women, out of the prizes in which negroes 
 are taken." Thus the grant seems to have been given for 
 a consideration, and it appears that "graft" was even then 
 in vogue on that island, and destined to flourish there in 
 later days. 
 
 While England, since her treaty with Spain in 1713, had 
 held the monopoly of the slave trade upon the high seas, 
 she had made large and continuous appropriations for the 
 building, repairing and maintaining of forts and barracoons 
 upon the African coast. Between the years 1729 and 1750, 
 the sum thus expended amounted to five million, four hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 While England was thus enriching her national exche- 
 quer, and constantly developing her maritime power, 
 shrewd men in her New England colonies saw no good rea- 
 son why they might not lend a hand and share in the profits, 
 and were it not a matter of history we could hardly credit 
 the extent to which the New England colonies were responsi- 
 ble for the introduction of slaves into this country. 
 
 The first vessel built in New England and designed for 
 the slave trade was launched at Marblehead in 1636, and 
 named "The Desire." From that date on, and in spite of 
 all law, and long after it had been declared piracy, the 
 traffic was carried on under the American flag, nor was the 
 smuggling suppressed until our Southern ports were blockad- 
 ed at the outbreak of the Civil War. Very early in its 
 history the men of New England became noted the world 
 over for their seamanship. In 1789, Governor Granston 
 of Rhode Island reported that between 1638 and 1708 one 
 hundred and three vessels had been built in that state, all 
 
 194
 
 in tfje 
 
 of which were trading with the West Indies and our South- 
 ern colonies. They took out lumber, fish, and merchandise 
 to the Indies, and from thence they made their way to the 
 African coast for a cargo of slaves to be sold in the Indies, 
 or in our Southern colonies as the market might best war- 
 rant. Coming home they freighted with salt, tropical 
 products, and molasses for the rum trade. That the slave 
 trade was their principal business is evident from such 
 records as those of Dr. Samuel Hopkins, who wrote as 
 follows: "Rhode Island in 1770 had one hundred and 
 fifty vessels in the slave trade," and later in 1787 he makes 
 this remarkable statement: "The trade in human species 
 has been the first wheel of commerce in Newport on which 
 every other business has depended. The town has been 
 built up and flourished in the past on the slave trade, and 
 out of it the inhabitants have gotten most of their wealth 
 and riches," and he adds incidentally, "It has enslaved 
 more Africans than any other colony in New England." 
 
 Such were the relations with the northern colonies and 
 slavery. Both North and South were in the business for 
 profit. It was for one party to supply the slaves and for 
 the other to reap the reward of their labor. While the pro- 
 fits from their labor in the West Indies was rapidly increas- 
 ing the demand for slaves, such was not at first the case in 
 our own colonies where it was often a question whether the 
 profits of their labor would warrant their importation; and 
 so limited was the demand that before 1630 no vessels 
 dealing exclusively in slaves came to our colonies, those 
 thus imported being billed as part of a cargo with other 
 merchandise. In 1635 only twenty-six slaves were imported 
 
 195
 
 African 
 
 to Virginia; only seven in 1642; eighty-seven in 1649; 
 and in 1650 the entire number in the colonies was only 
 a few hundreds, or less than a single cargo as they were 
 brought in later years. The severity of the climate was 
 unfavorable for their introduction at the North, and in the 
 South the profits from the production of pitch, tar, turpen- 
 tine, and wood ash failed to be remunerative. Indeed, the 
 opinion was very generally prevalent, both North and 
 South, that negro slavery was destined to die out. 
 
 In all the colonies, the greater part of field labor, such as 
 chopping, digging, and field culture was performed by work- 
 ing men and women who were brought to this country un- 
 der contract to serve for a stated period of time, and when 
 they arrived in Virginia such service was often sold in the 
 open market to the highest bidder, and by these indentured 
 servants the heavier field and house work was performed. 
 But while this was true in Virginia, it was less so in the North, 
 where the settlers were usually able-bodied men with large 
 families who relied but little upon hired help, and who 
 very generally put into practice Franklin 's popular maxim : 
 "He that by the plough would thrive, himself must either 
 hold or drive." 
 
 While such service for a definite time could be put on the 
 market, it seemed but a step further to purchase such ser- 
 vice for life. And yet so far as the question of buying and 
 selling of African slaves was concerned, there were many 
 persons in all the colonies who strongly protested against 
 the custom. On the other hand, there were those who 
 were ready to defend the trade on moral and biblical 
 grounds, deeming it a most righteous act to bring these poor, 
 
 196
 
 m te ftnitefc 
 
 benighted heathen from the jungles of Africa to this gospel 
 land where they could be Christianized. 
 
 Thus matters remained, with little discussion, for a series 
 of years. Pecuniary gain was hardly a sufficient incentive 
 and the moral convictions of the would-be missionaries 
 counted but little to stimulate slave importation; and if 
 only pitch, tar, turpentine, wood ash and even tobacco 
 had remained the chief articles of export, doubtless millions 
 of negroes who were destined to toil and die on American 
 soil would never have left their native land. But the hour 
 was at hand when new industries were to make unparalleled 
 demands for slave labor and revolutionize the commerce 
 of the world. 
 
 As early as 1612 Captain John Rolfe, of Pocahontas fame, 
 had introduced the culture of tobacco in Virginia, and such 
 a market had sprung up abroad that its production was 
 becoming exceedingly profitable. The growing of tobacco 
 involved severe manual labor to which the ordinary 
 "apprenticed" labor was ill adapted. It was found that 
 negroes inured to a tropical climate were eminently fitted 
 for just this kind of toil, and as there was a constantly in- 
 creasing demand for tobacco so there was an increased de- 
 mand for slaves and an increase in their value, and when 
 there was added to the raising of tobacco in Virginia the 
 culture of rice in South Carolina, and of sugar cane in the 
 gulf states, still larger requisitions were made. But when 
 the cotton gin was invented by Eli Whitney in 1797 and 
 cotton became "king," then began such a demand for 
 slaves as was never satisfied up to the day when slavery was 
 abolished. 
 
 197
 
 African 
 
 It has been said that cotton was the cause of the Civil 
 War, and a few words with reference to this staple may not 
 be amiss here. As a fabric it had been known in China for 
 ages, and there and in Egypt it had been cultivated to a 
 limited extent, but it was not until the opening of the i8th 
 century that England began the greatest market in the 
 world for its manufacture and sent its fabrics to all quarters 
 of the globe. A brief reference to figures will best indicate 
 the rapidity with which her trade was developed. In 
 1700, the import of cotton was 1,000,000 pounds; in 1720, 
 2,200,000 pounds; in 1750, 3,900,000 pounds; in 1800, 51,- 
 000,000 pounds; in 1820, 151,000,000; in 1850, 688,200,000 
 pounds; and in 1870, 1,101,191,250 pounds. 
 
 To meet such needs, England went the world over in 
 search of cotton, but nowhere was the quality equal to that 
 grown in the United States. Hence our exports went for- 
 ward by leaps and bounds, assuming enormous proportions, 
 and, save for the sugar crop all other Southern industries 
 sank into insignificance. The entire Gulf States were 
 eminently adapted to cotton culture, and awaiting the com- 
 ing of the planter and his slaves. Several thousand acres 
 were often included in a single plantation, and, so widely 
 separated, the slaves had little knowledge of the outside 
 world, and could be the more easily controlled. 
 
 Thus situated, it was entirely impracticable to organize 
 district schools for children. Tutors were employed on the 
 plantations: and it was common for students to complete 
 their educations at seminaries and colleges in this country or 
 in foreign lands. Accordingly, in a vast number of cases, a high 
 grade of culture was attained, and the South abounded in men 
 
 198
 
 in tfje ftnitefc 
 
 and women who, in cultivation and refinement, had no superi- 
 ors, while to the poorer classes the advantages of common 
 schools were largely denied, and illiteracy was the result. 
 The consequence was the development of a cultured aris- 
 tocracy which came to dominate not only the plantation 
 but the social and political life of the states, and also for 
 years to control our nation. It was but natural that the 
 slave holding people should resent the least interference 
 with this domestic institution which meant so much to 
 them, and leading men like Mr. Calhoun, Hayne, Jefferson 
 Davis and a thousand others held "States' Rights" para- 
 mount to national obligations. Hence secession was 
 threatened as early as 1832, and fatally attempted in 1861. 
 In an early day Southern statesmen foresaw the incoming 
 of a mighty host of free white from the old world, destined 
 to people the great Northwestern territory, and if they were 
 to have an equal number of states and representation in 
 the United States Senate, they must rapidly increase the 
 area which might in the future be counted upon for slave 
 states. So when the Louisiana Purchase was made in 
 1803, all that portion south of 34.30 degrees was secured 
 to the slave interest. There was calling all along the line 
 England calling for more cotton, planters for more 
 slaves, the South for more slave territory, and Southern 
 statesmen for better protection for their institution, on the 
 part of the government, and the right to take their slaves 
 into territories hitherto free. Hence the connivance with 
 the slave trade by all clandestine means, and the incessant 
 demand that went to Virginia as a slave-breeding state. 
 Hardly had the Louisiana Purchase been acquired when in 
 
 199
 
 African 
 
 1819, Florida was purchased and became slave territory. 
 After a bitter struggle and a second compromise, Missouri 
 was admitted as a slave state. Southern statesmen also 
 early saw the necessity of acquiring Texas. Under Mexi- 
 can rule it was free territory. By strategic means it was 
 wrested and became a slave republic, and in 1846 it was 
 admitted as a slave state, with the provision that, if need 
 be, four states might be created from the same. Soon 
 filibusters reached out for Cuba, but were foiled in the 
 attempt. Then it seemed desirable to lay hands upon the 
 free territory of Northern Mexico, that in due time slavery 
 might be extended to the Rio Grande. Hence came the 
 Mexican War with a large slice of Mexican territory, and 
 to round out the Southern border, the Gadsden purchase of 
 more of that territory was secured. It seemed then but 
 a simple matter to push the Southern line to the Pacific 
 coast and take in California. But the discovery of gold 
 in that state and the influx of gold seekers nipped that 
 scheme in the bud. 
 
 The rapid increase in slave population raises the question 
 as to the sources of supply. Of these there were three: 
 first, the purchase of slaves in the Northern slave states, 
 which led to the business of breeding slaves for the Southern 
 market. In this business, Virginia outdid all others com- 
 bined. In her palmy days she was justly styled " the Moth- 
 er of Presidents." In the days of her infamy she was the 
 breeding mother of slaves. In proof of this, let a single 
 fact be given. The Niles Register, one of the official organs 
 at Washington, under date of October 8, 1836, quotes from 
 the Virginia Times, which states that no less than forty
 
 in ttje ftnitefc 
 
 thousand slaves had been exported from Virginia to other 
 states during the preceding fiscal year; that the price of 
 these averaged six hundred dollars a head, bringing to the 
 state the enormous sum of twenty-four million dollars. If 
 that be the revenue derived in a single year, what must have 
 been the income from the traffic for more than half a cen- 
 tury? The second source of supply was from the West 
 Indies, where slaves captured in Africa were landed 
 for the time and held for deportation elsewhere as the 
 market might best warrant. The proximity of those islands 
 to our coast rendered it difficult to prevent the smuggling of 
 slaves even had the government been diligent for its pre- 
 vention, and since it had become the settled policy of the 
 government not to interfere with the domestic institution of 
 the South, the laws concerning piracy had become well nigh 
 a dead letter, and were never more flagrantly violated than 
 during the years immediately preceding the Civil War. 
 We have the statement of Senator Stephen A. Douglas 
 that, in the year 1859, fifteen thousand slaves were thus 
 smuggled into the Southern states. Nor was this an ex- 
 ceptional year, for the trade had been thus carried on year 
 by year with seeming impunity. The third method of 
 supply was by shipping them directly from the African 
 coast. From the administration of Jackson to the close 
 of that of Buchanan, a continuous traffic had been carried 
 on under the American flag, not of course with govern- 
 mental sanction, but in spite of its efforts for its prevention. 
 While our government pretended to co-operate with 
 England in maintaining a squadron on the Atlantic coast 
 for the suppression of slave trade, the official reports sent
 
 African 
 
 home constantly declared that no slavers were discovered, 
 and our flag was in fact a protection from capture by the 
 British squadron. As a burlesque and a seeming menace, 
 one of these slave ships was named "The Martin Van 
 Buren" and another "James Buchanan." To cap the 
 climax, Commodore Perry, commander of the African squa- 
 dron, writes to A. P. Usher, secretary of war in 1848 as 
 follows: "I cannot hear of any American vessel being 
 engaged in the transportation of slaves, nor do I believe 
 one has been so engaged for several years." And yet that 
 same year our consul at Rio Janeiro, Mr. Wise of Virginia, 
 writes: "We are a byword among the nations, the only 
 people who can fetch and carry everything for the slave 
 trade without fear of English cruisers." This Commodore 
 Perry was just the man to be put in command of our Gulf 
 Squadron during the Mexican War. Let his name never 
 be confounded with that of his noble brother, Admiral 
 Hazard Perry, who opened up to us communication with 
 Japan. 
 
 The scene changes when the African comes under the 
 command of Admiral Foote, and eleven slave ships were 
 captured in 1858. And yet Secretary Toucy of the navy 
 had previously said that his department had been active, 
 and that if Cuba were to pass under the Constitution of the 
 United States by annexation, the trade would then be 
 effectually suppressed. 
 
 To show how base, bold and shamefully untrue this 
 statement of Secretary Toucy was, it is only necessary to 
 consider the action of a single citizen belonging to one of the 
 most noted families in Savannah, Georgia Mr. Charles L.
 
 in rtje ftniteii 
 
 La Mar. The facts came to light through the accidental 
 discovery of his letter book which had found its way to a 
 paper mill, and from thence to the public in the North 
 American Review in November, 1886. The entries there 
 made give evidence of the condition of the trade so far as 
 he was concerned, in the decade before the Civil War, when 
 he was killed in battle. I will here cite only one or two 
 quotations : 
 
 His first letter referring to slavery was written to his 
 father, criticising him for not sympathizing with him or 
 approving of the slave trade, to which the son was now 
 devoting himself. The letter to his father is dated October 
 31, 1857, and says: "You need give yourself no uneasiness 
 about the Africans and the slave trade. I was astonished 
 at some of your remarks in your letter. They show that 
 you have been impressed with something more than the 
 
 panic by your association with Mrs. . For example, you 
 
 say 'an expedition to the moon would have been equally 
 as sensible, and more according to the will of Providence. 
 May God forgive you all your attempts to violate his will 
 and his law.'" Quoting these notable words from his 
 father's letter, the younger La Mar continues his reply as 
 follows: "Following this train of thought, where would it 
 land the whole Southern Confederacy? You need not re- 
 proach yourself for not interposing with a stronger power 
 than argument and persuasion to prevent the expedition. 
 There was nothing which you or the government could 
 have done to prevent it. Let all the sin be on me. I am 
 willing to bear it all." 
 
 But it seems his vessel did not go to sea without hindrance, 
 
 203
 
 African 
 
 for, with the suspicion that it was intending to put to sea as 
 a slaver, the post collector did not seize the vessel, but de- 
 tained it and promised to grant damages for detention. 
 The bill rendered to the government for such detention was 
 for thirteen hundred and twenty-one dollars. La Mar writes 
 to Howell Cobb, Secretary of the Navy, under date, July 
 27, 1857, or rather as Secretary of the Treasury under 
 President Buchanan, stating that "the vessel had been de- 
 tained eight days, the collector saying the Government 
 would not reply to my claim for damages." 
 
 The district attorney and all the lawyers he consulted 
 and the custom house officer united in saying there 
 was nothing to cause suspicion and the vessel, was 
 released and the bill for damages was paid. The captain 
 of his vessel he says though honest, was fearful of capture 
 on the African coast. The vessel made a failure and re- 
 turned to New Orleans. A significant remark of his shows 
 the attitude of the government with reference to slavers in 
 the time of Buchanan's administration. La Mar says: 
 "He ought to have known he was running no risk. The 
 captains and the crew are always discharged. If Grant 
 had been equal to the emergency, we would have been easy in 
 money matters." In a letter to Theodore Johnson of New 
 Orleans, dated December 23, 1858, he says: "In reference 
 to Grant, discharge him pay him nothing, and hope with 
 me that he speedily land in hell." But La Mar was in no 
 wise discouraged and soon prosperity came to his company 
 of smugglers, and three efficient vessels, the E. A. Rawlins, 
 the Richard Cobden, and the Wanderer were put into the 
 trade. 
 
 204
 
 in flje 
 
 La Mar also contemplated buying a steamer for the same 
 purpose. Under date of May 24, 1858, he wrote to Thomas 
 Barrell, Esq., of Augusta, Georgia, as follows: "I have 
 in contemplation, if I can raise the amount of money, the 
 fitting out of an expedition to go to the south of Africa for 
 a cargo of African apprentices, to be bound for the term of 
 their natural lives, and would like your co-operation. No 
 subscription will be received for less than five thousand 
 dollars. The amount to be raised is three hundred thousand 
 dollars. "I will take $20,000 of the stock and go myself. 
 I propose to purchase the Vigo, an iron screw steamer of 1750 
 tons, now for sale in Liverpool for $150,000 cash. The cost, 
 $375,000. G. B. La Mar can give you a description of her. 
 She is as good as new, save her boilers, and they can be used 
 for several months. If I can buy her, I will put in six 
 Paixhen guns on deck and man her with as good men as can 
 be found in the South. The fighting men will all be stock- 
 holders and gentlemen, some of whom are known to you, if 
 not personally, by reputation. I have, as you know, a vessel 
 now afloat, but it is in my mind extremely doubtful whether 
 she can get in safely, as she had to wait on the coast until a 
 cargo could be collected. If she ever gets clear of the coast, 
 they can't catch her. She ought to be due in from ten to 
 thirty days. I have another now ready to sail which has 
 orders to order 1,000 or 1,200 to be in readiness the ist of 
 September, but to be kept if necessary until the ist of 
 October, which I intend for the slavers so that there may be 
 no delay. With her, I can make a voyage there and back, 
 including all bad weather if I encounter it, etc., in ninety 
 days, certain and sure, and the negroes can be sold as fast 
 
 205
 
 African 
 
 as landed at $650 a head. I can contract them to arrive 
 at that price. The Vigo can bring 2,000 with ease and 
 comfort, and I apprehend no difficulty or risk save that of 
 shipwreck and that you can insure against. I can get one 
 of the first lieutenants in the Navy to go in command and 
 can whip anything if attacked that is on that station, Eng- 
 lish or American. But I would not propose to fight, for 
 the Vigo can steam eleven knots an hour, which would put 
 us out of the way of any cruiser." 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Roundtree, of Nashville, he states the 
 cost at $300,000. The sale of 1,200 at $650 each, $780,000. 
 Net profit besides steamer, $480,000. 
 
 But this scheme did not materialize and it is only quoted 
 to show the condition of the slave trade in the United 
 States in the year 1858, during the administration of 
 President Buchanan. 
 
 Of the three vessels named, the career of the Wanderer, 
 briefly sketched, will give the history of the last of the 
 piratical slave ships. The Wanderer was built at Port 
 Jefferson, L. I., for Mr. J. D. Jefferson, a wealthy member 
 of the New York Yacht Club, in 1857. It was said of her 
 that she could fly instead of sailing, such was her speed. 
 In May, 1858, she was sold and sent South, her captain be- 
 ing a brother of the Confederate Admiral Symmes. She 
 went to Charleston and thence to Trinidad, ostensibly on 
 a pleasure trip. From thence, she went to the Congo coast, 
 still flying the flag of the New York Yacht Club. On the 
 coast she entertained officers of British cruisers with the 
 idea that she was a pleasure craft. She was fitted up in 
 magnificent style, and even won a handsome race with a 
 
 206
 
 in 
 
 British yacht, and entertained her British guests elaborate- 
 ly on shore. The British sailed away. Then, according to 
 a statement in the New York Sun, she went to Baracooas 
 on the Congo River and purchased seven hundred and 
 fifty young negroes. She cleared from Africa with a full 
 cargo of slaves and reached the coast of Georgia, in Decem- 
 ber, 1858. The owners of the Wanderer were Captain 
 Corey, the original purchaser, Charles A. La Mar of Savan- 
 nah, N. C. Trowbridge of New Orleans, Captain A. C. 
 McGee of Columbus, Georgia, Richard Dickinson of 
 Richmond, Virginia, and Benjamin Davis of Charleston, 
 South Carolina. The cargo was now upon the coast of 
 Georgia, but the difficulty was to secretly and safely land 
 it. In an interview with a reporter for the New York Sun, 
 several years later, Captain McGee related how it was done. 
 
 He stated: "The most difficult part of the voyage was 
 to get into port. The only way to enter the mouth of 
 Savannah River was under the black muzzles of the guns 
 of the fort, and it would have been madness to attempt to 
 enter with that contraband cargo in the daytime. Instead, 
 Captain Symmes crept into the mouth of the Great Ogeeche 
 by night, and ascended to the big swamp and there lay 
 concealed while he communicated with La Mar at Savan- 
 nah. La Mar thereupon announced that he was going to 
 give a grand ball in honor of the officers and garrison of the 
 fort, and insisted that the soldiers as well as the officers 
 should partake of the good cheer. 
 
 "When the festivity was at its height the Wanderer stole 
 into the river and passed the guns of the fort unchallenged, 
 and made her way to La Mar 's plantation some distance up 
 
 207
 
 African 
 
 the river; the human cargo was soon disembarked and 
 placed in charge of the old rice-field negroes who were nearly 
 as savage as the new importation." But the tricks of the 
 smugglers were not entirely successful, for La Mar wrote to 
 N. C. Trowbridge of New Orleans, under date of December 
 15, 1858, that the United States District Attorney was 
 after him. He said: "I returned from Augusta this 
 morning. I distributed the negroes as I could, but I tell 
 you things are in a hell of a fix, no certainty about anything. 
 The government has employed H. R. Jackson to assist in 
 the prosecution and is determined to press the matter to the 
 utmost extremity. The yacht has been seized. The 
 examination commenced to-day, and will continue for thirty 
 days at the rate things are going on. 
 
 "They have all the pilots and men who took the yacht to 
 Brunswick here to testify. She will be lost, certain and 
 sure, if not the negroes. Dr. Hazlehurst testified that he 
 attended the negroes, and swore that the Africans were of 
 recent importation. I don't calculate to give a new dollar 
 for an old one. All these men must be bribed. I must be 
 paid for my trouble and advances. Six of those who were 
 left at Monts, who were sick, died yesterday. I think the 
 whole of them now sick will die. They are too sick to ad- 
 minister medicine to. I am paying fifty cents a day for all 
 I took up the country. It was the best I could do I 
 tell you hell is to pay. I don't think they will discharge 
 the men, but turn them over for trial." 
 
 And since his confidence was betrayed there was still 
 more trouble. In a letter to Theodore Johnson of New 
 Orleans, he writes: "I am astonished at what Governor 
 
 208
 
 in tfte ftnitefc 
 
 Phinz writes me. The idea of taking negroes to keep at 
 fifty cents a day, and then refusing to give them up when 
 demanded, simply because the law does not recognize them 
 as property, is worse than stealing." 
 
 It seems that at this time La Mar had three vessels in 
 the slave trade, and he writes to C. C. Cook of Blakely, 
 Georgia, as follows: "You are aware that this is risky 
 business. I lost two out of three. To be sure, at the first 
 I knew nothing about the business. I have learned some- 
 thing since, and I hope I can put my information to some 
 account. I have been in for 'grandeur,' and been fighting 
 for principle. Now I am in for dollars." 
 
 But while in trouble himself, and deeming his own arrest 
 probable, he seems to have been true to the men of his crew, 
 for he wrote to Captain C. D. Brown, one of the men under 
 arrest, as follows : "Your attorneys will visit you before the 
 trial. If a true bill is found against you by the Grand 
 Jury, it will be done upon the evidence of Club and Harris, 
 and they will of course testify to the same thing. In that 
 case, I think you all ought to leave, and I will make arrange- 
 ments for you to do so if you agree with me. I have offered 
 Club and Harris $5,000 not to testify, but the government 
 is trying to buy them also." 
 
 In the same letter he says: "I am afraid they will con- 
 vict me, but my case is only seven years and a fine. If I 
 find they are likely to do so, I shall go to Cuba until I make 
 some compromise with the government." The result was 
 that the arrested persons escaped punishment. La Mar did 
 not go to Cuba, but the vessel, the Wanderer, was con- 
 demned and sold at auction at one fourth its value to its 
 
 209
 
 African 
 
 former owners, to be used ostensibly as a merchant schooner. 
 In the disposal of the negroes they were more fortunate. 
 Captain McGee, already quoted, says: "The slaves which 
 had been purchased for a few beads and a bandanna hand- 
 kerchief, were sold for six and seven hundred dollars apiece. 
 The owners of the vessel paid Captain Symmes $3,500 for 
 his services, and cleared upwards of $10,000 apiece for them- 
 selves." 
 
 The capture of the Wanderer created intense excitement 
 throughout the country, for the slave question was at fever 
 heat. Senator Wilson introduced a motion into the Senate, 
 calling on President Buchanan for all the facts which the 
 government had in its possession in the case. His reply to 
 the Senate was as follows: 
 
 "I concur with the Attorney General (J. S. Black) in the 
 opinion that it would be incompatible with public interest 
 at this time to communicate the correspondence with the 
 officers of the government at Savannah per the instructions 
 which they have received." But he promised to make 
 every practicable effort to discover the guilty parties and 
 bring them to justice. With respect to the Wanderer, which 
 had been condemned and bought in by its former owners, 
 Captain McGee had this further to say: "In the spring 
 of 1859, the Wanderer again sailed for the West coast of 
 Africa, Captain Symmes again in command. The King was 
 ready to treat with him on the most liberal terms and de- 
 livered to him at the mouth of the river a valuable cargo. 
 They were more intelligent than the first cargo, lighter in 
 color, and better hi many respects than those captured 
 nearer the coast. A number of them died during the
 
 ht tfje ftnttefc 
 
 voyage and the Wanderer was put to her best speed on 
 several occasions to get away from undesirable acquaint- 
 ances. But she was never overhauled and arrived off the 
 Georgia coast in December, 1859. She was caught in a 
 violent gale, and in attempting to enter Jeckyl Creek be- 
 tween Jeckyl and Cumberland Islands, she ran aground on 
 a stormy night. A number of the captives escaped from 
 the hold, jumped into the sea, and were drowned. 
 
 The negroes were sent to New Orleans, except a few who 
 were scattered about among the Georgia planters. The 
 profits were quite as large as from the first expedition, and 
 but for the Civil War and the blockading of Savannah 
 harbor, the Wanderer might have made another voyage 
 in 1860. As it was, she was hemmed in up the river by the 
 blockade, and finally sold to the Confederate government. 
 She was finally captured by the Federal forces and for a 
 time was used as a revenue cutter at Pensacola, and was 
 finally wrecked off the coast of Cape Henry." 
 
 I have quoted thus extensively from the private letter 
 book of Mr. La Mar, as published by John R. Spears, entitled 
 "The American Slave Trade," to show in a single instance 
 to what extent the slave trade was being carried on within 
 our own states, after having been for forty years declared 
 piracy. 
 
 Up to the very year of the Civil War, Admiral Perry was 
 reporting to our Secretary of the Navy that he had seen no 
 slavers upon the African coast, and did not think there had 
 been any there for several years. True, now and then a 
 slaver had been caught, but never until after the election of 
 Mr. Lincoln had one been hung. Of that one I will
 
 African 
 
 speak. The last sad story of American slavers as narrated 
 by Stearns, from which this statement is briefly summar- 
 ized, is this: 
 
 In the summer of 1861, Captain Nathaniel Gordon, a 
 native of Portland, Maine, took his ship, "The Erie" to 
 New York, obtained a portion of his supplies, then sailed 
 to Havana, completed his outfit, and, sailing to the African 
 coast, went up the river forty miles, where she discharged a 
 cargo of liquors, and after fitting the vessel for their recep- 
 tion, came down to the mouth of the Congo and took on 
 board a cargo of 890 slaves, of whom but 172 were men and 
 106 were women, the remainder being boys and girls, as 
 Gordon deemed them safer. They might scream but they 
 could not strike back. The ship, thus densely crowded, set 
 sail for Havana August 7, 1860, and while crowding all 
 sail was overtaken by the United States Warship Mohican, 
 and taken to New York, the negroes being taken to Liberia 
 and landed there. This ship was sure to be confiscated, for 
 half of her sale went to the captors. The ship was sold for 
 $78,239, half of which went to the ship 's crew of the Mohican 
 as prize money. But what about Gordon, its commander? 
 It is reported that this was his third slave voyage. Mr. 
 Lincoln had been elected and the Republican party was 
 now in power. For forty years the death penalty for this 
 crime had been on the statute books, yet of all the slave 
 smugglers not one had been hanged. 
 
 The first effort to convict him resulted in a mistrial, but 
 before his second trial a new party had come into power 
 and he was again placed on trial November 6, 1861, Judge 
 Nelson presiding. The Civil War was now commanding 
 
 212
 
 in tfje ftniteti 
 
 the public attention. Gordon had once before been tried 
 and the jury disagreed, and so little attention was given to 
 the trial. On Friday, November 8th, the arguments were 
 closed, and Judge Nelson delivered his charge to the jury. 
 At seven o'clock that evening the jury retired and in 
 twenty minutes brought in the verdict, " Guilty." Presi- 
 dent Lincoln granted a respite of two weeks, but refused 
 further to interfere in the case. There was a frantic appeal 
 to the Governor of the state, and the threatening of a mob, 
 but all of no avail, and on February 21, 1862, Nathaniel 
 Gordon was hanged the first and the last of American 
 slave pirates to suffer the full penalty of the law. 
 
 During the administration of President Buchanan there 
 was a very strong movement for the purchase of Cuba, for 
 the extension of slave territory, and if Spain had consented 
 to the sale, such was the preponderance of Southern influence 
 in Congress that doubtless the transfer would have been 
 made at a cost of fifteen million dollars. Such had become 
 the pressing demand for slaves that the re-opening of the 
 slave trade was seriously considered. 
 
 In November, 1858, the following appeared in the De 
 Bows Journal: "It cannot be denied that the Southern 
 states, especially those in which are grown the great staples 
 of cotton, sugar, and rice, demand a greater number of 
 negro laborers than can now be secured by their natural 
 increase or from those home sources which have hitherto 
 yielded but a spare supply." And he proceeds to quote the 
 prices of slaves sold in the perfect market, at auction, as 
 follows: "Able bodied men were sold for $1,836 apiece, 
 and very indifferent ones, the lowest for $640." As a means 
 
 213
 
 African 
 
 of relief, campaign literature was circulated advising the 
 opening of the slave trade. Public conventions were held 
 for the discussion of this question At a convention held 
 at Montgomery, Alabama, on the loth of May, 1858, Mr. 
 Spratt of South Carolina, chairman of the committee on 
 the slave trade, introduced the following resolutions: 
 
 Resolved: that slavery is right, and that being true, there 
 can be no wrong in the natural means for its formation. 
 
 Resolved: that it is expedient and proper that the foreign 
 slave trade should be reopened and that this convention will 
 lend its influence to any legitimate measure to that end. 
 
 When the more conservative members of the convention 
 questioned the adoption of the resolutions, Mr. Yancy said 
 to them: "If it is right to buy slaves in Virginia and 
 carry them to New Orleans, why is it not right to buy them 
 in Cuba or Brazil or Africa and carry them there?" 
 
 At a convention held in Vicksburg in 1859, a resolution 
 was adopted, by a vote of sixty to nine, that all laws, state 
 or federal, prohibiting the African slave trade, ought to be 
 repealed; also that a fund be raised to be disposed of as 
 premiums for the best sermons advocating the re-opening 
 of the slave trade. And we can hardly blame these men, 
 who in convention were passing these resolutions, when 
 such men as Alexander Stephens, later Vice-President of 
 the Southern Confederacy, in bidding farewell to his con- 
 stituency, is reported to have said: "Slaves cannot be 
 made without Africans. I wish to bring distinctly to your 
 minds the great truth that, without an increase of African 
 slaves, you may not look for more slave states." Mr. Jeffer- 
 son Davis, one of the largest slave holders in Mississippi, 
 
 214
 
 in tije dnttefc 
 
 was opposed to the immediate opening of the trade, lest an 
 influx of Africans should diminish the value of his property; 
 but he hastened to add, "The interest of Mississippi, not 
 of the African, dictates my conclusion. This resolution 
 with reference to Mississippi is based upon the present con- 
 dition and not on any general theory. It is not supposable 
 to be applied to Texas, New Mexico, or any further acquisi- 
 tions to be made south of the Rio Grande." 
 
 This last expression is peculiarly significant, revealing 
 the purpose to expand a Southern Confederacy as the slave- 
 holding interests might require, after severance from the 
 Northern states had been achieved. The time for the 
 severance was at hand ; only a pretext was wanting. That 
 pretext was the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency 
 and the triumph of the Republican party. The means put 
 forth for the further extension of slavery, and the secession 
 of the Southern states, culminated in its overthrow. 
 
 215
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 ABOLITION OF SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES 
 
 IN judging the acts of peoples and of nations, justice 
 requires that we carefully consider the age in which 
 they lived, their environments, and the public estimate 
 of their acts. It will be necessary to remember that when 
 our progenitors landed on these shores they were subjects 
 of Great Britain, which was then the leading nation en- 
 gaged in the slave trade, and deriving her largest revenue 
 from that source. The Royal Family had personal interest 
 in the trade, and the legitimacy of the business was not yet 
 questioned. And yet, both in England and in the Colonies, 
 there were many who regarded with abhorrence the capture 
 and enslavement of human beings, however savage. This 
 innate opposition to human slavery, though very general, 
 had as yet no organized method of expression. From the 
 date of the first purchase of slaves, in 1619, to that when 
 our independence had been achieved, there had been a 
 strong protest against their introduction into this country. 
 
 During all that period, the slave interests had control 
 of the British government, and the profits to be derived 
 from the traffic depended largely upon the success with 
 which slaves could be disposed of in her various colonies. 
 Of the introduction of slaves into our Colonies, Senator 
 Wilson has written as follows : 
 
 "British avarice planted slavery on American soil; 
 British legislation sanctioned and maintained it; British 
 
 216
 
 of Jrtatoerp in rlic United 
 
 statesmen sustained and guarded it, and under the fostering 
 care of British legislation over three hundred thousand 
 African slaves had been imported into these Colonies 
 before the Revolution. It will be remembered that, while 
 our own seamen and their vessels were engaged in this trade, 
 and were deriving immense profits therefrom, they were 
 still subjects of Great Britain, subject to her laws and 
 enjoying her protection under the British flag. When, in 
 1726, Virginia levied a tax upon slaves brought from Africa, 
 lest their rapid introduction might lessen the value of her 
 own, and when, in 1760, South Carolina did the same, they 
 were sternly rebuked by the British government. In 1712, 
 Pennsylvania protested against the further introduction of 
 slaves. In 1771, Massachusetts adopted measures for the 
 abolition of the slave trade, but she was a British subject 
 and her action was thwarted by Colonial order." 
 
 And Madison, who later was to be president, says: 
 "The British government constantly checked the attempt 
 of Virginia to put a stop to this infernal traffic." 
 
 Thus much is cited to show how largely England was 
 responsible for the introduction of slavery, while we were 
 yet colonies. The industrious habits of the Northern 
 colonies, and the severity of the Northern climate were 
 not such as to encourage the importation of slaves in that 
 direction. But in the South it was otherwise when cotton, 
 rice and sugar f began to be cultivated, yielding large 
 returns, and slaves from the tropical regions were especially 
 fitted to endure the arduous work; and when the broad 
 stretches of the most fertile soil in the world seemed im- 
 patient of cultivation, the inducement to employ slave labor 
 
 217
 
 African 
 
 seemed irresistible. So great were the profits to be derived 
 therefrom and such were the demands for the products of 
 such toil as to cause the system of slavery to take deep root, 
 and demand recognition and protection as a condition for 
 consummating the union. But such development was not 
 without most solemn protest and frequent legislation in 
 many states. In its "Code of Liberties," as early as 1641, 
 the Colonial Legislature of Massachusetts enacted "that 
 there should never be any bond slavery unless it be of 
 captives taken in just wars or of them who willingly sold 
 themselves to them." This seemed to intimate that Indians 
 taken in war might be sold as slaves. 
 
 To Rhode Island belongs the honor of first enacting 
 laws prohibitory of slavery within its domain. It pro- 
 vided that "no black mankind or white, serve more than 
 ten years, or after the age of twenty-four years should be 
 set free." This was in 1652, but before this, in 1646, 
 Massachusetts enacted that "if a man steal a man or 
 mankind, he shall surely be put to death." And four years 
 later, Connecticut, in its New Haven Colony, passed an act 
 making man-stealing a capital offense. 
 
 During the ten years preceding the Declaration of 
 Independence, in which the rights of men were sharply 
 discussed, the injustice of slavery was made more and more 
 apparent, and there was a growing desire for the extinction 
 of the slave trade and the emancipation of slaves. The 
 Society of Friends was the first to take action on this subject. 
 It began at a yearly meeting of a small body of German 
 Quakers at Germantown, Pennsylvania, in 1688. In 
 New England, the Quakers, at a monthly meeting held at 
 
 218
 
 Volition of fatoerp m tje Ctnitdi 
 
 Dartmouth in 1716, sent to the Rhode Island Quarterly 
 Meeting this query: "Whether it be agreeable with the 
 Friends of the truth to practice slaves and keep them for a 
 term of life." 
 
 That same year the Quakers, at Nantucket, sent forth a 
 declaration that "it is not agreeable with the truth for 
 Friends to purchase slaves and hold them for a term 
 of life." 
 
 While the Friends were everywhere bearing testimony 
 against slavery, they were by no means alone. Burling, 
 Keith, Sanford, Lay, and many others were publishing 
 pamphlets and creating public sentiment for its abolition. 
 For twenty years following 1746, John Woodman of New 
 Jersey traversed the middle and Southern colonies, his 
 theme in his appeal to Christians being that "the practice 
 of continuing slavery is not right, and that liberty is the 
 natural right of all men equally." 
 
 John Wesley, after his visit to America, denounced 
 slavery as "the sum of all villainies, the vilest that ever 
 saw the sun," and that men buyers are exactly on a level 
 with men stealers. George Whitfield, who traveled ex- 
 tensively in the South, denounced the system in unmeas- 
 ured terms, declaring "that the masses of the negroes 
 were less cared for than the brutes." Perhaps the most 
 outspoken pastor in favor of emancipation was Dr. Samuel 
 Hopkins of the Congregational Church in Newport, Rhode 
 Island. Newport was then the great slave mart of New 
 England, and there, from 1770 to the outbreak of the 
 Revolution, he threw himself body and soul into the cause 
 of emancipation and the extinction of the slave trade. He 
 
 219
 
 African 
 
 preached, he wrote, he visited from house to house, in the 
 prosecution of his work. 
 
 He dictated the document to the Continental Congress 
 which is said to have been the ablest production on that 
 subject which had appeared in the English language. 
 It was printed in pamphlet form, and had a large 
 circulation among public men, and had a powerful 
 influence upon public opinion. In 1773, the eminent 
 surgeon, Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia, also threw his 
 powerful influence in the same direction, publishing "An 
 address to the inhabitants of the British settlements in 
 America on slave keeping." But most important of all was 
 the pronouncement of the First Continental Congress, 
 in 1774, "that it would neither purchase nor import slaves 
 and would wholly discontinue the slave trade." The 
 arraignment of the British King for forcing slavery upon 
 the American colonies, as drafted by Jefferson in his 
 original draft of the Declaration of Independence, was 
 stricken out through the influence of Georgia and South 
 Carolina. But at this period in our history, leading states- 
 men, both north and south, including Washington, Madison, 
 Hamilton, and Randolph, looked forward with confident 
 expectation to the eventual abolition of the slave trade and 
 slavery. 
 
 The Pennsylvania Abolition Society, the first of its kind 
 in the world, which had been dormant during the last 
 years of the Revolution, was resuscitated at its close, and for 
 the next fifty years was the most potent opponent of slavery. 
 When, in 1787, it revised its constitution, it took the name, 
 "The Society of Pennsylvania, for Promoting the Abolition
 
 .Abolition of iatoetp in tiic Unitro 
 
 of Slavery, the relief of Negroes Held in Bondage, and for the 
 Improvement of the African Race." Benjamin Franklin 
 was its first president, and, by his wonderful sagacity and 
 executive ability, was greatly instrumental in insuring its 
 success. For fifty years that society labored incessantly 
 for the suppression of the slave trade and the abolition of 
 slavery. It sent copies of its constitution to the governors 
 of states and to statesmen generally. It corresponded with 
 prominent men in the United States, in England, and 
 an France. In 1818 it condemned the colonization scheme 
 is impracticable. In 1819 it appointed a committee to 
 watch the struggle for the admission of Missouri as a 
 slave state. In 1830 it secured governmental aid for 
 colored schools. In 1830 it secured laws against the 
 kidnaping of negroes. 
 
 In the meantime, the question of slavery was a constant 
 theme of discussion in all the North. The New York 
 Abolition Society was established in 1785. In that year 
 a bill for gradual emancipation was defeated, and it was 
 not until 1779 that the bill was passed. In 1789 the 
 Rhode Island Society was formed. In 1790 a like society 
 was formed in Connecticut, and in 1792 an Abolition Society 
 was organized in New Jersey. 
 
 During all these years slavery was taking firm hold 
 in all the Southern states. The question of profits out- 
 weighed all other considerations, and even the morality of 
 slavery was argued on biblical grounds. The independence 
 of the colonies was acknowledged in 1782. Then came the 
 years of national construction. As the result of the treaty 
 with Great Britain, our territorial limits were extended to
 
 African 
 
 the east bank of the Mississippi River, and by our purchase 
 of Louisiana, in 1803, the line was further extended to the 
 Rocky Mountains. Long and fierce was the struggle as 
 to the admission of slavery into this vast territory. By 
 the ordinance of 1787 it had been excluded from the 
 territory north and west of the Ohio River. As the result 
 of the contest, for the time, the question was set at rest by 
 the agreement that all the lands north of 34 30' latitude 
 should be free territory. 
 
 In the convention which assembled to form the Con- 
 stitution of the United States, there were many and serious 
 questions to be considered. The commercial relations of 
 states with states and with foreign powers were to be 
 adjusted; the relations of the smaller states to the 
 larger hi entering the Union; the question of represen- 
 tation in Congress; and the adjustment of legislative, 
 judicial, and executive powers all called for most profound 
 consideration; but, beyond and transcending all others, 
 was the bitter struggle in the determination of state 
 rights, particularly as these pertained to the states' con- 
 trol of the question of slavery, and of their representation 
 in Congress. 
 
 Georgia and South Carolina utterly refused to enter the 
 Union unless their own control of their slaves was per- 
 mitted, the discussions being long and acrimonious. The 
 question narrowed down to this: "Anarchy or the admis- 
 sion of slave states," and, as the result of the bargain, the 
 South won out. The struggle for slave representation in 
 Congress was especially protracted, and finally settled on 
 a three-fifths basis. The ultimatum was reached when
 
 Volition of latep in tf>e 
 
 General Davis of North Carolina stated to the convention 
 that his state would never confederate on any terms that 
 did not give to their slaves a three-fifths representation. 
 He said: "If the eastern men mean to exclude them alto- 
 gether, then the business is at an end." This was the 
 second victory for the slave holders. t 
 
 In 1792, Congress passed a bill for the rendition of 
 fugitive slaves. In the meantime, the limit of the foreign 
 slave trade had been extended to the year 1808; besides, 
 slaves were being smuggled in from the West Indies at 
 the rate of fifteen thousand a year, while the State of 
 Virginia became such a breeder of slaves as to furnish them 
 for the southern market at the rate of forty thousand a 
 year. 
 
 For a number of years after the adoption of the Missouri 
 Compromise, in 1830, there was a lull in the excitement 
 with reference to the extension of slavery. Men seemed 
 willing to purchase peace at any price. The great body of 
 conservative men lent their influence to the scheme of 
 colonization. This was not especially inimical to the 
 South, for it provided a way for the export of free negroes 
 who were a menace, and the riddance of others who, from 
 age or impotency, were a burden that could be thus well 
 disposed of. 
 
 But there were others, not a few, who held the whole 
 business of slave trading and slave holding to be a crime 
 against God and man, and would have no fellowship with 
 slavery in any form whatever. Of these an extended history 
 has been given in the publications by Elias Hicks, which 
 he began in 1814. At that time there was a strong anti- 
 
 223
 
 African 
 
 slavery feeling manifesting itself in Tennessee and Kentucky, 
 and many planters crossed the Ohio River that they might 
 free their slaves on northern soil. Despite all compromise 
 and all legislation, the question of slavery was never at rest. 
 
 Among the New England abolitionists, the name of 
 William Goodell stands prominent. In 1820 he published 
 a series of anti-slavery articles in the Providence Gazette, 
 and for thirty years after, was connected with the anti- 
 slavery press. But in those early days, between the years 
 1815 and 1830, the name of Benjamin Lundy, a New 
 Jersey Quaker, transcends all others. His intense horror 
 of the slave trade in Wheeling, Virginia, as he met it there, 
 it being one of the most prominent slave marts in the 
 state, incited him to action, and, though he was a pros- 
 perous tradesman, he gave his life-work to the cause of 
 abolition, a name then everywhere detested. He married 
 and settled in Ohio, and in 1815, in his own house, called 
 together his friends and organized "The Union Humane 
 Society." He traveled far and wide, organizing auxiliary 
 societies wherever he went. He worked heroically in 
 Illinois and in Missouri. He went to St. Louis and entered 
 into that struggle, using the press as his chief method of 
 warfare. But his influence did not stop there. William 
 Lloyd Garrison, who later was to be the most ardent 
 champion of the slave, had this to say: 
 
 "Now if I have, in any humble way, done anything in 
 calling attention to slavery, and bringing about the glorious 
 prospect of a complete jubilee in our country at no distant 
 day, I feel that I owe everything in the matter, instru- 
 men tally and under God, to Benjamin Lundy." 
 
 224
 
 abolition of iatoetp in rljc United 
 
 In 1828 he visited New England, and traveled on foot 
 to find Mr. Garrison, then editing a paper in Vermont, and 
 persuade him to join him in the conduct of "The Genius 
 of Emancipation." Mr. Garrison says: "He came, staff 
 in hand, and had traveled all day to the Green Mountains. 
 He came to lay it on my heart, my conscience and my 
 soul, that I should join him in this work of seeing the 
 abolition of slavery." 
 
 Mr. Garrison, whose sympathies were already aroused 
 in that direction, further says: "He so presented the case 
 that I said to him, ' I will join you as soon as my engagements 
 here are ended, and then we will see what can be done. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Lundy labored with a zeal worthy of his cause, 
 founding anti-slavery papers successively at different points, 
 enlisting Mr. Garrison and Mr. Whittier in the editorial 
 management. He died, while valiantly vindicating the cause 
 of the oppressed, at the early age of fifty years, but his 
 greatest achievement was the discovery and enlistment of 
 William Lloyd Garrison upon whom his mantle fell. 
 
 Of Mr. Garrison it is not needful to write. He has made 
 history that will be imperishable. But in those earlier 
 days it may be well said of him that "He was a man 
 despised and rejected, a man of sorrows and acquainted 
 with grief." He was imprisoned for his utterances, and 
 a reward of five thousand dollars was offered for the 
 deliverance of his head in Georgia. His writings first 
 appeared in the Free Press published in Newburyport, 
 Massachusetts, next in the National Philanthropist in 
 Boston, then in the Journal of the Times in Bennington, 
 Vermont, then the Genius of Universal Emancipation 
 
 225
 
 African 
 
 at Baltimore, and finally in The Liberator which he 
 published in Boston for thirty-five years, until slavery was 
 abolished. Mr. Garrison lectured in all the principal 
 cities of the Northern states. For his utterances in Balti- 
 more, he was imprisoned and after six weeks was liberated, 
 Mr. Arthur Tappan, of New York, paying his fine. 
 
 Legislation and threats were used to prevent the publica- 
 tion of The Liberator in the South, and the mails were closed 
 against it. But in the meantime, the abolition cause 
 was taking root and gaining strength in all the Northern 
 states. Within nine years from the establishment of The 
 Liberator, nearly two thousand anti-slavery societies had 
 been formed, with a membership of two hundred thousand. 
 The abolition movement finally encountered the opposition 
 of the American Colonization Society, and, from that 
 source, some were led to counsel violence. The free blacks 
 held conventions and pleaded that where their fathers 
 had fought in the Revolution and where they had been 
 born, they might die and be buried. Arthur Tappan at 
 length withdrew, and declared that the effect of the coloni- 
 zation scheme was one of perpetual slavery. 
 
 The New England Anti-Slavery Society was formed 
 in the office of Samuel E. Sewell, a young lawyer in Boston, 
 December 16, 1831, Arnold Buffam being the first president 
 and William Lloyd Garrison, corresponding secretary. 
 The first public meeting was held in Essex Street Church, 
 Boston, January 29, 1832. The address was made by the 
 Reverend Moses Thatcher, who declared its object to be 
 "neither war nor sedition. The influence must be that 
 of moral suasion, not of coercion." 
 
 226
 
 Abolition of latoerp in tlic Umtefc 
 
 The number of slaves held at that time was estimated 
 at two and a half millions. Public opinion was intensely 
 strong against the abolition movement. David B. Ogden, 
 a leader of the New York bar, called them fanatics and 
 opposed to the Constitution. Theodore Frelynghuysen 
 denounced the movement as the wildneso of fanaticism. 
 But such men as John G. Whittier and Amos A. Phelps, 
 and the pen of Mrs. Lydia Maria Childs, were entering 
 into the work of disseminating anti-slavery literature 
 and sending it broadcast. At this time colored schools 
 were very generally denied. New Haven opposed the 
 organization of a collegiate institute for colored students. 
 Noyes Academy, which admitted colored students, was 
 broken up. The schoolhouse where Miss Crandall taught 
 colored children was drawn out of town by seventy yoke 
 of cattle, furnished by the inhabitants of the town. 
 
 In 1833 a national anti-slavery convention was held 
 in Philadelphia, at which time the National Anti-Slavery 
 Society was organized, an executive committee appointed, 
 and an office opened in New York City. Arthur Tappan 
 was president. 
 
 The Emancipator was started as the official organ of the 
 society, and sustained by large personal subscriptions, 
 Mr. Tappan contributing one thousand dollars; in rapid 
 succession sixteen hundred auxiliaries were added to the 
 parent society, with a membership of nearly a quarter of a 
 million. 
 
 The first anniversary of the society was held in New York, 
 in May, 1834, when the home of Arthur Tappan was broken 
 open by a mob. The whole country now began to feel the 
 
 227
 
 African 
 
 influence of these societies, far and wide, and Congress was 
 deluged with petitions, praying for the abolition of slavery 
 in the District of Columbia and its restriction from the 
 territories. Year by year the number of petitioners rapidly 
 increased until, between 1837 and 1839, two million signa- 
 tures were sent to Congress. 
 
 In 1832, Theodore Weld, a noted abolition lecturer, went 
 to Huntsville, Alabama, as the guest of James G. Birney, 
 a lawyer and slave holder, and laid the whole subject before 
 him. Mr. Birney had been an advocate of the coloniza- 
 tion scheme. The result was that, in 1833, Mr. Birney 
 became an out-and-out abolitionist, made his home in 
 Danville, Kentucky, and there emancipated his slaves. 
 He prepared to start an anti-slavery paper in Danville, 
 but was forbidden to make the attempt. He removed to 
 Cincinnati for that purpose, and there his persecution 
 began. On June 12, 1838, his press was broken up, and 
 handbills were posted in Cincinnati, offering a reward for 
 his apprehension and delivery in Kentucky. A committee 
 of citizens of Cincinnati was called in July, 1836, to deter- 
 mine whether an abolition paper should be published in 
 that city, and, as the result, a mob threw Mr. Birney's 
 press, upon which he was printing The Philanthropist, 
 into the river. This was repeated three times, but The 
 Philanthropist continued to be issued. The making of 
 abolitionists continued, and men of wealth and social 
 position were found to encourage it. The more the favor- 
 able sentiment grew, the more bitter was its opposition. 
 The use of Faneuil Hall, the " Cradle of Liberty," was 
 refused for the holding of an anti-slavery meeting. Wher- 
 
 228
 
 &6ofttion of taberp in tfjc aniteti 
 
 ever abolitionists proclaimed their sentiments, they were 
 denounced in unmeasured terms. 
 
 George Thompson, the champion of British emancipa- 
 tion, came to this country and lectured extensively and 
 very effectively. He was mobbed in Plymouth County, 
 and rescued by friends in Boston. In 1835, Mr. Garrison 
 was seized by a mob in Boston, and a rope put around his 
 neck. He was put in jail to rescue him from its fury. 
 During that same year, a meeting of the New York Anti- 
 Slavery Society, which convened at Utica, was broken up, 
 and, at the invitation of Garrett Smith, completed its 
 sessions under his protection at Peterborough. There was 
 a riot in the staid little city of Montpelier, Vermont, and a 
 little later, and on the same day, there were mobs in Boston, 
 Utica, and Burlington. Mr. Henry B. Stan ton was one of 
 the most noted abolition lecturers. He delivered over one 
 thousand lectures in New England and New York, and 
 one hundred and fifty-three of these were broken up by 
 mobs. 
 
 Pennsylvania Hall, dedicated to free speech, was formally 
 opened on May 14, 1838. It had been built at a cost of 
 forty thousand dollars, and in it the friends of the slave were 
 not to be denied a public hearing. At the dedication, 
 David Paul was the orator and Mr. Whittier was the poet. 
 Three nights later a mob assembled at the place, and the 
 building was burned to the ground. 
 
 At this time, there was a warfare in Congress on the right 
 of petition, and from that time on, John Quincy Adams, " the 
 Old Man Eloquent," was for years its champion and defend- 
 er, while furious "fire-eaters " raged around him. The most 
 
 229
 
 African 
 
 drastic laws were enacted in the South to prevent the 
 transmission of incendiary documents through the mails. 
 General Jackson, in his annual message to Congress in 
 December, 1834, denounced the abolition movement in 
 unmeasured terms, which received a most scathing reply, 
 ten days later, from the organ of the American Anti-Slavery 
 Society. In 1836, the Democratic party, at the North, 
 united with a nearly united South and gave Martin Van 
 Buren an overwhelming majority as the successor of 
 General Jackson, and his administration was conspicuous 
 for its obsequiency to the South. 
 
 The nation was startled by the news that, at Alton, 
 Illinois, on the yth of November, 1837, Elijah P. Love joy 
 had been killed, thus becoming the first martyr in the 
 anti-slavery struggle. It seems singular that a meeting 
 should have been called at Faneuil Hall in Boston to 
 condone that outrage, but it was serving the cause better 
 than it knew, for in reply to the commendatory addresses, 
 it brought to the platform a man hitherto unknown as an 
 orator, no less a man than Wendell Phillips. He gave the 
 obsequious crowd a scathing which was never forgotten, 
 and which startled his hearers as he denounced the op- 
 pressors and paid his withering attention to their obse- 
 quious apologists there present. He was the man for the 
 hour, and at once became famous throughout the land as 
 the most eloquent champion of freedom. 
 
 It was at this date that I began to have some little 
 appreciation of the anti-slavery movement, for the death of 
 Lovejoy produced a thrill of excitement through the 
 whole country, since free speech in the State of Illinois, as 
 
 230
 
 of fotoerp in tye antteti 
 
 well as the anti-slavery movement, were thus assailed; and 
 the masses of our northern people began to discuss the 
 question as to what extent such encroachment upon their 
 liberties might be permitted, with liberty of speech denied. 
 
 My personal knowledge of negroes and of negro slavery 
 though limited, dates from very early childhood, when an 
 uncle of mine, who had become a planter in the South, 
 came North to visit his parents, accompanied by his wife 
 and a little servant boy named Dan. Very few people in 
 our community had ever seen a negro before, and Dan was 
 as much of a curiosity as though he had been a monkey. 
 He was not over ten years old, and soon became very vain 
 from the curiosity which he excited, and, feeling his im- 
 portance, in his plantation dialect boasted of his money 
 value. He said: "My massa won't take five hundred 
 dollars for me. My massa ax six hundred dollars." His 
 funny sayings became bywords among our boys, and this 
 speech fixed the price of a slave upon my mind, although 
 I was only six years old. 
 
 The first question touching the subject of slavery that 
 I ever heard was asked by my dear old grandmother, who 
 had a tender heart and always had an open hand for the 
 poor. It was this: "0 Samuel, how can you bear to buy 
 those poor creatures?" To which he replied, "We keep 
 them in families, and they are far better off when they 
 have somebody to care for them." But I could see from 
 my grandmother's looks that her inborn sense of justice 
 was hardly satisfied. It was only a chance conversation, 
 which I overheard when I was a little child, but it was never 
 forgotten and more fully appreciated later. 
 
 231
 
 African 
 
 The beginning of my knowledge of the slavery question 
 dates from the year 1836, when I was thirteen years old, 
 and when Mr. Ornon Archer, a graduate of Williams 
 College, came to our village, Romeo, Michigan, to establish 
 the Romeo Academy. He had resided previously in 
 Utica, New York, and was a warm admirer of the noted 
 abolitionist, Garrett Smith, whose name was everywhere 
 in bad repute and spoken against. Mr. Archer was an 
 ardent abolitionist and the outspoken friend of the slave, 
 and the slavery question was about as regularly discussed 
 at our table as our meals were served. 
 
 I shall never forget the expression which came over 
 Mr. Archer's face when, as we were sitting at the table, 
 some one came and stated that E. P. Love joy had been 
 murdered. Looking down upon his plate as though his 
 eye would pierce it through, and oblivious to all else, he 
 said in a low, impressive tone: "That shot is the beginning 
 of the end of slavery." I was old enough, at this time, 
 to appreciate the bitter prejudice that was abroad against 
 the word "abolition," and to know that to be an abolition- 
 ist was to be classed as a fanatic of the baser sort. This fact 
 was apparent in our own community, though much less so 
 among our better people, while even a few were sympa- 
 thizers. 
 
 For several years it was apparent that the anti-slavery 
 movement was steadily gaining ground, and those high in 
 authority were strongly set against it. In his last message 
 to Congress, General Jackson took occasion to denounce it 
 in unmeasured terms, and when Mr. Van Buren came to the 
 Presidency, in 1836, he gave ample assurance to the Southern 
 
 232
 
 of Jrtatoerp in tJje aniteti 
 
 states that the power of the Government would be exerted, 
 to prevent any encroachment upon or interference with, 
 their domestic institutions. But the alignment was fast 
 being made between those who would thus prevent any 
 interference with slavery and those who were opposed to 
 the further extension of slavery and claimed the right to 
 petition Congress to that effect. For years that right was 
 constantly affirmed by the North and still more vehemently 
 denied by the South. 
 
 The heroic defense of the right of petition by John Quincy 
 Adams, "the Old Man Eloquent," forms one of the most 
 interesting and exciting chapters in the history of the 
 abolition movement. The struggle which had culminated 
 in emancipation in England was now to have its parallel 
 on American soil, and each was to be successful the one by 
 peaceful means and timely legislation, the other by the 
 terrible abitrament of civil war. In the progress of the 
 great struggle for emancipation, the opposing forces seemed 
 hopelessly unequal. As in olden times, so now, on the side 
 of the oppressors there was power power in a sub- 
 servient Congress; power in all the marts of trade, 
 power in foreign courts, by reason of able ambassadors, 
 carefully selected to conserve Southern interests; power 
 by the very general racial prejudice existing at the North. 
 Besides these, personal indifference was to be overcome, 
 and, more than this, the feeling that abhorred conflict and 
 was willing to purchase peace at almost any price, provid- 
 ing it did not jeopardize personal interests. Such in the 
 aggregate were the influences which confronted the anti- 
 slavery movement. Only a single question confronted 
 
 233
 
 African 
 
 them. It was "the injustice of oppression and the right 
 of man to his freedom." That right must be vindicated, or 
 the very foundations of our government must give way and 
 our Declaration of Independence become a hissing and a 
 byword. Next to the greatest moral issue the world has 
 ever known was at stake, and to the everlasting honor of 
 our nation the moral question triumphed. The manner 
 in which this was accomplished may be stated in few 
 words. 
 
 The Anti-Slavery National Association, which was or- 
 ganized in 1833, was conducting its work on strictly moral 
 grounds when there was a split in the party, and while 
 Garrison and his followers strongly protested, the other 
 party entered the political arena. It numbered such 
 men as James G. Birney, a former slave holder, Arthur Tap- 
 pan, Gerrit Smith, John G. Whittier, Edward Beecher, 
 John Jay, and Thomas Morris. This branch met in a 
 convention at Warsaw, New York, in November, 1839 
 and nominated James G. Birney for president. In April, 
 1840, a national convention was called in New York City. 
 The nomination of Birney was confirmed and the organiza- 
 tion took the name of the Liberty Party. 
 
 Notwithstanding the prejudice which existed against the 
 movement, its friends were able to poll 7059 votes at the 
 presidential election in 1840. In August, 1844, it held 
 another convention, again nominated Birney for President, 
 cast a vote of 62,200 at the presidential election, and, by 
 defeating Henry Clay, secured the election of James K. Polk 
 and the admission of Texas to the Union. 
 
 As a purely abolition party its friends deemed a separate 
 
 234
 
 of ^Intocrp in the Unitcfc 
 
 organization no longer advisable, since the question of 
 slavery was now paramount in both the great political 
 parties; and so, in 1848 and 185 2, it cast its vote with the new 
 Free Soil party. This Free Soil party was organized 
 as the result of a split in the Democratic party in the 
 State of New York, and Martin Van Buren was nominated 
 for President. Its platform was "Free soil, free speech, 
 free labor and free men." 
 
 The defection of the Democratic party in New York was 
 so great in 1848 as, by a union with the Free Soil party, to 
 carry the State of New York and elect General Taylor as 
 President. The election of Franklin Pierce in 1852 was 
 a signal triumph for the South, as was also that of James 
 Buchanan in 1856, both of whom were subservient to South- 
 ern interests. I was an ardent admirer of Henry Clay, and 
 in 1844, as a member of the Romeo Brass Band, attended 
 many political conventions, and was so confident of his 
 election that his defeat brought unbidden tears to my eyes. 
 I lacked a year of being old enough to vote, but I was just 
 as ardent for all that, and I blamed the Free Soil party 
 with all the hate there was in me. For with the election of 
 Polk, the admission of Texas as a slave state was assured, 
 the increase of slave territory seemed beyond bounds, and 
 the future of a free government to be at an end and hopeless. 
 
 But, in a way unknown to all, the extreme energies put 
 forth both by the North and South were conspiring to 
 one sad result. Four years of civil war at a cost of nearly 
 two million men and billions of money were to be the price 
 of the contest. The secession of the slave states had long 
 been seriously considered by Southern statesmen, and the 
 
 235
 
 African 
 
 project had been so far advanced as only to await the 
 election of a Republican President to warrant that act. 
 
 Pending that election, the excitement in the whole coun- 
 try was simply terrific. In the halls of Congress it was 
 painful in the extreme. Sumner was smitten down with a 
 bludgeon, violence was ready to break forth at any moment, 
 and secession was on every lip. President Buchanan in 
 his vain hope to placate the South had given his most 
 important Cabinet appointments to Southern men. As 
 the result our navy had been ordered to the most distant 
 seas, and the contents of our naval arsenals transferred 
 to Southern stations. A deep-laid plan had been matured 
 for the development of a great Southern confederacy which 
 should embrace northern Mexico, California, Cuba, and 
 possibly a part of Brazil. Cotton would ensure recognition 
 by England; Southern ambassadors had well prepared 
 the way in foreign courts, and it only awaited the signal 
 from Southern leaders to attempt the secession of their states 
 from the Union and establish the Southern Confederacy, 
 in which slavery was to be the chief corner-stone. The 
 crisis came and the firing upon Fort Sumter was the 
 signal to arms. 
 
 236
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 REMEMBRANCES OF MR. LINCOLN 
 
 T FIRST had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Lincoln in the 
 summer of 1855. I had not yet completed my arrange- 
 ments for the settlement of my family in Chicago, and 
 they were spending the summer with friends in Battle 
 Creek, Michigan. I was at that time boarding at the Matte- 
 son House, only a block away from the Court House. At 
 that time there was on trial one of the most noted cases 
 which has been adjudicated in Illinois. It had to do with 
 the settlement of land claims in what was known in Illinois 
 as the Military Tract. In their time the French had made 
 land grants, to be followed by others when the English 
 gained possession, and finally the whole country east of 
 the Mississippi passed under the control of the United 
 States at the close of the Revolutionary War. The present 
 owners were innocent purchasers, and the question was as 
 to what extent the United States could issue valid titles. 
 The trial lasted nearly two months, and nearly all the noted 
 legal talent in the state had been retained in the interest of 
 the great number of settlers whose titles were involved. 
 A large number of the lawyers were in the habit, at the 
 noon adjournment, of going over to the Matteson House 
 and dining at what was held in reserve and known as the 
 "Lawyer's table." It was a famous gathering of men, and 
 when the pressure was off and for an hour they could cut 
 loose and unbend it is needless to say they never lost their 
 
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 opportunity. Such sallies of wit and such keen repartee I 
 had never before heard, nor have I since, nor do I expect to 
 hear again. It was my custom to dine at the same hour, 
 and I was not long in selecting a side table where I could 
 have full view and be within good hearing distance. There, 
 unnoticed, day after day, I quietly listened to one of the 
 rare treats of a lifetime. No one could at that time dream 
 of what was to be the future career of that wonderful man, 
 but even then Mr. Lincoln was one of the most conspicuous 
 in that group of eminent men, and no dinner seemed com- 
 plete until he had been heard from. His very gentleness 
 made him great, and as for stories that would convulse the 
 crowd he had no equal. It was thus that I came to know 
 much of Mr. Lincoln that I could have learned in no other 
 way. 
 
 I next had the opportunity of hearing him as a public 
 speaker. It was during that same summer. The land case 
 had at length been concluded, and Mr. Lincoln had con- 
 sented to make a public address upon the political situation 
 of the country. He spoke in Dearborn Park where the 
 public library is now located. It will be remembered 
 that Mr. Douglas had effected the repeal of the "Missouri 
 Compromise, " and Chicago was Mr. Douglas ' home. It 
 was during the administration of President Pierce, and with- 
 in a year of the time when General Fremont was to be de- 
 feated by Mr. Buchanan, when the Whig party was to be 
 dissolved and the Republican party was to take its place. 
 Mr. Lincoln, amidst most adverse conditions, had been a 
 stanch old line Whig; but even now his far-discerning eye 
 foresaw the formation of a new party committed to present 
 
 238
 
 Remembrance^ of ^lr Stincoln 
 
 issues. Then the paramount question which eclipsed all 
 others was that of the further extension of slave territory. 
 "No more slave states and no slave territory" was every- 
 where in the North becoming the battle cry. Mr. Lincoln 
 had at this date fully identified himself with the new move- 
 ment, and more than any other man in Illinois he was instru- 
 mental in adjusting the differences between the old line 
 Whigs and the new Republican party. Such was the 
 popularity to which Mr. Lincoln had attained that the 
 park was crowded to its limits. He spoke for an hour and 
 a half, and as I looked over that vast audience I could at 
 once perceive that his speech was making a profound im- 
 pression. Especially do I remember one of his statements 
 which was more of a prophecy than he knew: "This 
 Union," said he, "will not be dissolved. If we, the North, 
 are outnumbered, we '11 still stick to the old flag, and contest 
 every inch of free territory from the influence of slavery. 
 But if our brethren of the South resolve upon secession and 
 proceed so to do it will be our duty to whip them in." 
 Such was the pitch to which the audience had been carried 
 that it went almost wild, as with impassioned utterance 
 and a gesture peculiar to himself he uttered these memo- 
 rable words. 
 
 My next opportunity of hearing Mr. Lincoln was in 
 1858, when from the balcony of the Tremont House in 
 Chicago he held a joint debate with Senator Douglas. It 
 was a side discussion closely related to the celebrated joint 
 debates held in various cities in the state when they were 
 each candidates for election to the United States Senate. 
 
 The next time I saw Mr. Lincoln was at a public recep- 
 
 239
 
 African 
 
 tion given at the White House, in Washington, in 1863. 
 Thousands were in the procession, and to each he gave a 
 welcoming hand. But there was a kind of subdued sad- 
 ness behind his gentle smile which told of the desperate 
 struggles he was making, while as yet the issue was in 
 doubt as to whether he could lead his armies on to victory 
 without a star being torn from the flag and yet there was a 
 grandeur in that sadness which only hope could have inspired. 
 
 Then came that last sad hour. The assassin had done 
 his infamous work. Tongues were silent; grief was too 
 profound for utterance. The Nation was in tears. Even 
 those who had termed him a despot were horrified now 
 that the deed was done. On that memorable journey as 
 the remains were being conveyed from Washington to 
 Springfield they rested for a while beneath the dome of the 
 Court House in Chicago, and there I took a last sad, linger- 
 ing look at the remains of the man so wonderful in life 
 now peaceful in the sleep of death. Even death itself had 
 not yet effaced the benign expression of those features 
 which was his when pleading for the return of his "mis- 
 guided brethren." Crowds of people from far and near 
 came to do him reverence. Far away on Michigan Avenue 
 the line of march was forming, and with silent tread and 
 muffled drums all that day and all that night the procession 
 moved, four abreast, until the hundreds of thousands had 
 taken their last tearful look at that loved face. All night 
 the silent throng was moving beside my open window, and 
 hour by hour I listened to that solemn tread. 
 
 I was only an observer of Mr. Lincoln, but it is one of the 
 joys of my life thus to have known him. 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 B.H7436H1 C001 
 
 MEMORIES OF EIGHTY YEARS CHGO