CHAPTER III.

SAD INCIDENTS AT LEXINGTON.

WE got over the bar before the Genoa did, and reached Lexington about nine o'clock at night. I ran up into the town, while the boat lay at the Levee, in search of the undertaker. He had gone either a hunting or fishing, and his office and warehouse were closed.

Oh! what was my agony. I hurried down to the boat. Told my wife to remain on board and go to Weston, while I took the body of my child and wrapped it in the linen of the bed, took it in my arms, and alone left the boat. The boat bell rang off. I took my seat in the carriage, and was driven to the hotel. A poor Irish woman had also a seat in the carriage. "Take care, sir," said she, "you will hurt the head of the baby, on the corner of the seat." I burst into tears, and sobbed, "No, I will not hurt it."

Many a word at random spoken

"Ah, is it dead!"

May soothe or grieve a heart that's broken."

The proud and enlightened Catholic, Major M., to preach the Gospel to whom I had risked my life, on the Missouri, at Fort Leavenworth, passed me by on the deck of the steamer,* with my dead babe in my arms,

* The Genoa reached Lexington immediately after we did. Major M. came on board of our boat. He never sought us out or inquired for us.

while the poor stranger, and ignorant Roman Catholic, wrung my heart with her sympathies.

When we reached the hotel, I asked for a room well ventilated. The poor negroes served me well; better than their masters. One went and got me ice. I inquired at the office of the hotel whether I could find a vessel to put the ice in, and lay the body on it. I was turned over to the negroes in the kitchen. The cook was interested at once, told me I might take anything that I thought would do. I selected a large copper boiler, and placed the ice in it, and laid the body on it. The negroes came, with the little ones, to look at the pretty white child. Thus they kept coming and going until late at night, when I was left, as I desired to be, alone, to watch the body and guard it from the many rats which infested the house.

The undertaker came during the night. He had no metallic cases. He suggested a coffin of zinc, and that to be placed in a well-made wooden case. These were ordered. I did not know at what time a boat might come up, and I was anxious to have all things in readiness should one arrive. Very early the next morning I awoke a Daguerreian, and told him that I wished to have a likeness taken. He prepared to oblige me. I took a negro boy to aid me in carrying the copper boiler, with the body, over to the artist's room. The picture was made to my satisfaction, when the boy aided me to carry the boiler with the body to the tinsmith's, to be sealed up forever from my eyes.

I felt much relieved, though in tears. I now waited two days at Lexington for a boat, but none came.

At

IMMIGRANTS FOR KANSAS.

17

midnight, I understood, a stage would leave for Independence, which I resolved to take. The coffin was strapped on with the baggage! and I rode on all night, and arrived at Independence the next day. Here we telegraphed down the river, to learn whether there was a boat coming up. We could hear of none. I took the stage once more for Liberty, in Clay County, Mo. Here I found that there would no stage leave under three days. I remained there all night. Liberty is the home of the famous A. Doniphan, who led the Missouri regiment such wonderful marches in Mexico. I had the honor of his acquaintance, but he was not at home. From Liberty I telegraphed several times, and at length learned from below that the steamer Sam Cloon would be up during the night. I took a conveyance and went down to the landing, three miles distant, and lodged at a little inn on the river bank. The next morning it was raining; and at seven o'clock the Sam Cloon blew her whistle. I went on board. I found the boat laden with immigrants for Kansas, and others merely on a prospecting tour.

I had hoped now that in twenty-four hours my journey would be at an end; but what was my dismay, when I learned that the boat had been injured in her passage up, and that she would not go further than Kansas City. It was soon discovered, on board the boat, who I was, and the object of my journey to Kansas. I found several gentlemen from New York, Philadelphia, and one from Baltimore, who has since become famous in the territory. The destination of a part of the gentlemen, I was informed, was "Council Grove."

I knew where it was, and gave them some information. They seemed gratified. I was told by their leader, that he was not a member of the Episcopal church, but that he knew several of his company were. He took my name and future address in the Territory, and expressed the earnest wish that I might visit their settlement, which has since been named Council City, and has been made a missionary station of our church. Had I at that time thrown myself into the hands of the Free State settlers, I might have effected some good, and saved myself many troubles; but I had many intimate and kind friends among those who were slave-holders in Missouri, and I wished to labor not among them, but in their neighborhood, only across the river.

The Sam Cloon reached Kansas City a little before noon, on Saturday, the 14th October. She could go no farther. We were now forty miles from Weston. We must perform this journey by land. The only conveyance which we could procure was a lumber wagon, and a very frail old buggy. The coffin was fastened on behind the buggy, and one or two ladies and a driver seated themselves inside. Three men and myself took the lumber wagon. We crossed the river to the Missouri side, and began our journey on a pretty cold afternoon. We reached Parkville, in Platte County, about eight o'clock in the evening, and took supper. We then left for Weston, twenty-eight miles distant. We passed through Platte City, the home of David Atchison, about 1 o'clock, A. M. We were so numbed with cold that we were obliged to halt and kindle a fire.

ARRIVAL AT WESTON.

19

When we had become comparatively comfortable we left for Weston, seven miles distant, and arrived at four A. M. of Sunday morning, the 15th October. I went directly to the hotel, the St. George, where I found my wife, waiting for me most anxiously. I went at once to the sexton to have a grave dug. I owned no lot in the grave-yard. I told him to dig for the present in that portion where they buried strangers. Many a prodigal son is buried there, far away from their once happy homes! The grave was soon dug. I went to tell a friend, a physician, of my loss, and asked him to come with me to the grave. The solitary carriage took my friend, afterwards a member of the famed Kansas Legislature, my wife, the body, and myself, to the grave at the break of day, and there I consigned the sweet. child to the tomb which it had long sought for. The father was the officiating clergyman! There was none other of our church in the place, and I would have my child buried by none other service than our own.