he retired to his native state of Connecticut, where he entered into the rest of Paradise in 1884. His widow, full of years, loved and honored by all who are privileged to know her, abides with us still, and tells, with never flagging interest to listeners, the fascinating story of these early pioneer times, when "all the world was young."

The story of the experiences of James Lloyd Breck, after leaving St. Paul, is full of romance and pathos, of devoted labors and never waning zeal, of high purpose and wise foundation laying, which have made his name the synonym of the ideal missionary to the whole American Church.

Building by the shining water of Gull lake a little chapel, which he called St. Columba, after the pioneer missionary of Scotland and northern Britain, he gathered around him a band of Christian Indians, who looked up to him as a father and a heavenly guide. Soon turning this work over to other hands, his restless energy carried him still farther into the northern wilderness, and again he became the founder and head of a mission among the Ojibways on Leech lake. Great success attended him. The little church was filled with worshippers, children of the forest gathered in his school, the seed was planted, it was taking root and promising a bountiful return, when disaster fell upon him and the mission.

Crazed by the "fire water," which in those lawless days the white man dealt out unstintingly to the Indian, the heathen Indians, of the Pillager band, drove this man of peace and of God away from their midst, destroyed the mission. buildings, and frightened into silence and seclusion the few faithful natives who had declared themselves Christians. It was not until seventeen years afterward that this work was revived, when it was found that many had retained their faith, and ever prayed for the return of the messenger of the Prince of Peace.

Undismayed, recognizing in this trying dispensation the leading of God's hands into other fields of work, he went southward to Faribault. Here he laid the foundation of the noble educational work upon which Bishop Whipple has so wisely and successfully builded.

After nine years of remarkable work, the voice of God seemed once more to call him to again lay foundations. Leaving Faribault, he crossed the continent in 1867, and at Benicia in California, at the head of another Associate Mission, modelled after the one with which he began in St. Paul in 1850, he laid the foundations of a college and theological seminary. Here on the outermost border of his native land, by the shores of the great western sea, worn out by cares and labors, he passed into a well won rest in the bosom of God.

Last October, I stood underneath the oaks, and by the crystal lakes of sylvan Nashotah, and with bowed head, witnessed the reinterment of all that was mortal of this saint and confessor of the nineteenth century, this apostolic missionary, this true soldier of the cross, James Lloyd Breck. The story of his life is forever inwrought, not only into the history of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the Northwest, but into the history of its civic life as well, for he was always the harbinger of civilization and the promoter of its truest weal.

I have thought it best to give in outline the story of this unique life as a small contribution to the history of this State, which, through this noble society, is striving to enshrine and perpetuate the lives of its heroes and founders.

I have endeavored to bring before you the beginnings of the Episcopal Church in Minnesota, with the setting in which these beginnings were framed, and with some of the figures standing out more prominently in that picture.

Up to the year 1850 the Church had never before entered a Territory so young and so completely a wilderness as was this, in the literal sense of the word. There were only three villages throughout an area greater than New York and all New England. The number of communicants was fifteen, of whom six belonged in St. Paul. Only a narrow strip of land, eighteen miles wide and one hundred and fifty in length, had yet been ceded by the red man to the United States. The missionaries, when they pitched their tents on the high bluffs of St. Paul, could look beyond the Mississippi river and see the aborigines in their wigwams and wild attire. The country was a fairy land, but nature could tell of dark deeds of vio

lence, and as late as 1850 Stillwater witnessed a scalp dance. There was wisdom in entering the land thus early. The Episcopal Church has reaped the benefits of this policy, in the after history of the Diocese of Minnesota. The church is relatively stronger here than in any of the other states in the whole Mississippi valley. While she has not become, by any means, the largest in numbers of any of the Christian bodies, owing largely to a population naturally unsympathetic with her methods of worship, yet I think I may confidently affirm that she has won a first place in the respect and confidence of the people of the state. The men who laid her foundations were men of large heart, catholic spirit, and far reaching vision. The intense earnestness and sincerity of these men left upon the population, who believed in reality and not in shams or show, a lasting and honorable impression. For nearly half a century she has stood for the Vincentian formula, "In essentials unity, in unessentials liberty, in all things charity."

But it is not my province to-night to laud the Episcopal Church. Its history is not concealed. It speaks for itself. It has been my simple privilege to be a "relator temporis acti." The providence of God watched over the work of its early founders, and will, I trust, still continue its beneficent mission. We are refreshed by quaffing the sparkling water in the clear fountain at the source of the stream. May I venture to hope that in a measure at least we have been so refreshed to-night.

REMINISCENCES OF MINNESOTA DURING THE

TERRITORIAL PERIOD.*

BY HON. CHARLES E. FLANDRAU.

Ladies and Gentlemen: I have always supposed that the legitimate province of a historical society is to record and preserve past and current history; and, so believing, I feel as if I were perpetrating a wrong in offering to you this evening the collection of anecdotes, jokes, and frivolous sayings and doings that I have strung together in this paper. My only excuse is, that it was not originally prepared for this dignified body, but for the amusement of a much lighter audience, and that it does contain some matters relating to our early days, although of a character that can hardly be brought under the designation of history. I never made any pretense to being a historian; but much is expected of a western man, and he is never justified in declining to do anything that the emergencies of the situation demand of him. To give you an illustration of what appalling straits he is sometimes driven to: Once, in the very early dawn of civilization on our frontier, I had the hardihood to get up a thanksgiving celebration, the principal part of the programme being a sermon from a neighboring missionary. For some reason, he failed to put in an appearance, and I was compelled to do the preaching myself. As my audience was easily imposed upon in the article of sermons, I succeeded quite creditably.

PECULIAR EARLY IMMIGRANTS.

I thought at first of chatting about the early days of St. Paul, and relating some of the many anecdotes which exist about our pioneer residents; but, on reflection, recalling what

Read before the Society, April 25, 1898.

my old friend, Joe Rolette, once said, "If these old settlers ever collide with me, I'll write a book," I deemed it delicate ground to tread upon, although extremely fertile in fun and amusing incidents, as we had a most curious agglomeration of interesting characters here in the early times. I may, however, mention some without treading on any one's toes.

There was a Scotch gentleman here, whom I knew very well, who seemed to have plenty of means to gratify all his whims. He had the reputation of having once been a minister of the gospel,-what he was doing here no one seemed to know definitely, and, as was usual in those days, no one cared very much. After living here some time he conceived the idea of going over to the Pacific country by way of British Columbia; his objective point may have been the Fraser river gold diggings, but I forget. He fitted out a party, and when in the wilds of the north country he became frozen in and was compelled to spend a long winter in camp; provisions soon gave out and the party were compelled to eat their pack animals for support. My friend selected a fat young mule for his especial eating, and allowed no one to share it with him. In the course of the winter he consumed the whole animal. He preserved one of its dainty hoofs, and when he got back to civilization he had it beautifully polished and a silver shoe put on it, and always at his meals he placed it by the side of his plate. People thought it was a salt cellar, or some article of table furniture, but when asked by some one what part it played in his menu, he would relate his adventure and say, that he had eaten so many awfully bad dinners out of that mule that he always kept its hoof near by to remind him of them so that his present dinners might be improved by contrast.

He was very fond of sherry, and could not get just what he wanted here, so he sent to London and imported an immense hogshead of the best he could purchase. He decanted it into large demijohns, and placed them all around his room. He then went to bed and never left it until we carried him out feet foremost. I did my best to avert this calamity, but my powers of absorption were too limited to get away with the sherry in time.

The original population of all this country was of course the Indians. The next people to arrive were the whites, who