Page images
PDF
EPUB

guished Senators, respectively from Illinois and California; and Hardin was killed while gallantly leading his regiment at the battle of Buena Vista.

To the peaceable accomplishment of the purposes mentioned, a small force under a competent officer was stationed for a time in Hancock County. The Governor justly felicitates himself that thereby "the greater part of the Military Tract was saved from the horrors of civil war in the winter time, when much misery would have followed by the dispersion of families and the destruction of property.'

The Mormon exodus from Illinois, once the "land of promise," now began in terrible earnest. Many farms and homes and large quantities of personal effects were hastily disposed of at a great sacrifice. The speeding was far different from the welcome but a few years before so heartily extended to the incoming "saints." The "Holy City" and sacred temple soon to be destroyed were abandoned for perilous journeyings in the wilderness. The chapter that immediately follows in the history of this people is indeed pathetic. The terrible sufferings of the aged and infirm, of helpless women and children, as the shadows of the long night of winter gathered about them on their journey, can never be adequately told. But, inspired with the thought that they were the Israel of God, that Brigham Young was their divinely appointed leader, that the pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night ever went before them on their journeyings, they patiently endured all dangers and hardships.

High upon the western slope of the Wasatch hard by the old wagon trail which led down into the valley stands a huge rock around whose base the Mormon leader assembled his followers just as the last rays of a summer sun were falling upon the mountains. In stirring words he recalled their persecutions and trials, told them that their long pilgrimage, the weary march by day and lonely vigil by night, were now ended, and their Canaan the great valley which stretched out before them.

Upon a visit to Salt Lake City nearly a third of a century ago, I attended service in the great Tabernacle when it was

filled to overflowing, and yet so excellent were its acoustic arrangements that every word of the speaker and every note of the organ could be heard distinctly. The surroundings were indeed imposing. Upon the great platform sat the President and his Council, the twelve apostles, the seventy elders, with an innumerable army of bishops, teachers, deacons, and other functionaries constituting the lower order of the Mormon hierarchy. The sermon was delivered by the famous Orson Pratt, the Saint Paul of the Mormon Church, a venerable patriarch of four score years, and yet, withal, a man of wonderful power.

As our little party passed in front of the speaker's platform to reach the door, he halted in his discourse, and stated to the audience that the strangers within their gates were leaving because of the near departure of their train and not because of any disrespect to the service. Then, bowing his aged head, he invoked the blessing of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, upon the Gentile strangers, and prayed "that their long journey might be ended in safety, and that in the fulness of time, having witnessed the manifestations of Almighty Power, they might return again, not as sojourners, but as fellow-citizens with the saints, to dwell in the Holy City."

XIV

A KENTUCKY COLONEL

COL. WINTERSMITH'S GREAT POPULARITY · - HIS ADMIRATION FOR MR. CLAY- · HIS MARVELLOUS MEMORY – HIS WIT AND HUMOR.

EW men were better known in Washington, a quarter of

FE

a century and more ago, than Colonel Dick Wintersmith of Kentucky. He had creditably filled important positions of public trust in his native State. His integrity was beyond question, and his popularity knew no bounds. Without the formality of party nomination, and with hardly the shadow of opposition at the polls, he had held the office of State Treasurer for nearly a score of years. An ardent Whig in early life, he was a devout worshipper at the shrine of Henry Clay. In the later years of his life, he would often with the deepest emotion refer to himself as "the last of the old guard." He never tired of relating interesting incidents of Mr. Clay. It was his glory that he had accompanied "the great pacificator" to Washington, when, with the fond hope of being able by his historic "compromise" to pour oil on the troubled waters, he returned to the Senate for the last time.

Wintersmith was the close friend of Theodore O'Hara, and stood beside him when at the unveiling of the monument to the Kentuckians who had fallen at Buena Vista he pronounced his now historic lines beginning

"On fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread.'

[ocr errors]

Colonel Wintersmith knew, as he knew his children, two generations of the public men of Kentucky. His memory was a marvel to all who knew him. He could repeat till the dawn, extracts from famous speeches he had heard from the lips of Clay, Grundy, Marshall, and Menifee. More than once, I have heard him declaim the wonderful speech of Sargent S. Prentiss delivered almost a half-century before, in the old

Harrodsburg Court-house, in defence of Wilkinson for killing three men at the Galt House.

It is hardly necessary to say that the Colonel was the soul of generosity. It was a part of his living faith that

"Kind hearts are more than coronets."

[ocr errors]

That he was possessed in no stinted measure of wit and its kindred quality, humor, will appear from an incident or two to be related.

The Hon. Ignatius Donnelly, member of Congress from Minnesota, had written a book to prove that Lord Bacon was the veritable author of the plays usually accredited to Shakespeare. Soon after the appearance of Donnelly's book, he met Colonel Wintersmith on Pennsylvania Avenue.

After a cordial greeting, the Colonel remarked, "I have been reading your book, Donnelly, and I don't believe a word of it."

"What?" inquired Donnelly, with great surprise.

"Oh, that book of yours," said the Colonel," in which you tried to prove that Shakespeare never wrote 'Hamlet' and 'Macbeth' and 'Lear' and all those other plays."

"My dear sir," replied Donnelly with great earnestness, "I can prove beyond all peradventure that Shakespeare never wrote those plays."

"He did," replied Wintersmith, "he did write them, Donnelly, I saw him write three or four of them, myself.”

"Impossible!" exclaimed Donnelly, who was as guiltless of anything that savored of humor as the monument recently erected to the memory of Hon. John Sherman, "impossible, Colonel, that you could have seen Shakespeare write those plays; they were written three hundred years ago."

"Three hundred years, three hundred years," slowly murmured the Colonel in pathetic tone, "is it possible that it has been so long? Lord, how time does fly!”

The Colonel often told the following with a gravity that gave it at least the semblance of truth. Many years ago, his Upper House by a

State was represented in part in the

statesman who rarely, when in good form, spoke less than

an entire day. His speeches, in large measure, usually consisted of dull financial details, statistics, etc. He became in time the terror of his associates, and the nightmare of visitors in the galleries. His "Mr. President," was usually the signal for a general clearing out of both Senate Chamber and galleries.

"Upon one occasion," said Colonel Dick, "I was seated in the last tier in the public gallery, when my Senator with books and documents piled high about him solemnly addressed the Chair. As was the wont, the visitors in the gallery as one man arose to make their exit. With a revolver in each hand, I promptly planted myself in front of the door, and in no uncertain tone ordered the crowd to resume their seats, and remain quietly until the Senator from Kentucky had concluded his remarks. They did so and no word of complaint reached my ears. Hour after hour during the long summer day the speech drew itself along. At length as the shadows were lengthening and the crickets began to chirp, the speech ended and the Senator took his seat. I promptly replaced my pistols and motioned the visitors to move out. They did so on excellent time. As the last man was passing out, he quietly remarked to me, "Mister, that was all right, no fault to find, but if it was to do over again, you might shoot."

« PreviousContinue »