and others, sold a portion of my goods, and made arrangements for leaving early the next morning. During the evening I made several visits, and found all very much interested in making the time pass off agreeably for me. Finding that I did not take, one of my friends said to me, "Why, you are not like your partner; he left $1,500 with the boys when he was up here." I then began to get upon the track of the shortage, and on my way back, at Swan River, I learned of his "luck," and concluded that, had there been more money in the pot, he might have made his shortage good. So, when I returned, I called Mr. Freeman to one side and told him to charge his private account with the shortage of $300, as I had found out all about it; and in the following fall and early winter the firm of Freeman, Larpenteur & Co. ceased to exist. I sold it out to John Randall & Co., of New York; and, one of the Freemans having died, A. J. took his portion and opened a place of business at Rice Creek, and in about one year he closed that out, removed east, and died. I agreed to remain with the new firm until spring, and did so.

In the meantime I had made arrangements to build me a store on the lot adjoining my little dwelling, on the corner of Jackson and Third streets. This was the second frame house built in St. Paul. The first, which had burned down, was built by Captain Louis Robert, a little earlier. The lot above referred to was what subsequently became lot 14, block 26, St. Paul Proper, which I bought of David Faribault, as a claim, for $62.50 in a horse trade. The building now occupying it is known as the Hale Block. I had a horse which Mr. Faribault wanted. He had a 140-foot claim at this point. My price for the horse was $80; the price of his claim was $125. He urged me to take the whole claim and pay him the balance when convenient, but I dared not then assume such an obligation. Consequently, I only took half of the lot and trusted him for the balance, $17.50, and I believe I was two years in collecting it, if at all.

I built my palatial dwelling upon this lot, which afterwards became the "Hotel Wild Hunter" ("Zum Wilden Jäger"). The work was done by Aaron Foster (who married one of the widow Mortimer's girls), J. Warren Woodbury, and Jesse H.

Pomroy. The latter is still alive and with us; the other two are dead. The painting was done by James McBoal, one of the best and laziest mortals that ever lived.

RELATIVES COME TO ST. PAUL.

Times had not improved much in St. Louis and the West, and my uncle Eugene, whom I left in that city, being discouraged by losing what little money he possessed, returned to Baltimore in 1845, and took charge again of the old Pimlico farm. My grandfather who was then beginning to feel the weight of years upon him, welcomed him back. My uncle was a thorough agriculturist, and as I had had eighteen years' experience myself in that vocation, when the agricultural advantages here began to develop, I wrote to him, giving my opinion and advising him to come out here and locate upon some of these lands while they were cheap, and that I had selected a tract which he could have if he wished.

He showed my letter to my grandfather, who said: "You have been west once, and came back disappointed. Drop the idea, and I will deed you one-half of this farm." He said, "Father, if you deed me half of this farm to-day, I will sell it to-morrow; I am going West where that boy is just as soon as I can raise the money to go with." "Well, if that is your intention, advertise the place, we will sell it, and I will go with you." The place was sold. This was the spring of 1849. The cholera was very bad that year all over the West, and especially in St. Louis. While transferring from one boat to another in St. Louis, my grandfather met some old acquaint. ance upon the levee, and this good friend was careful in admonishing my poor old grandfather, telling him not by any means to go up into the city, as they were dying at the rate of five hundred a day. The good old man, having been suffering for years from chronic diarrhea, fell down on the pavement and had to be carried on board the boat. He never arose again. He managed to live, however, until he reached St. Paul, when he died on the third day, fully conscious to the last. We buried him, not having a cemetery at that time, at the head of Jackson street, near Tenth street. In course

of time, Jackson street was to be graded. We removed his remains to a cemetery back of St. Joseph's Academy. Afterward, when Iglehart street was opened and graded, his remains had to be removed again, and now they lie in peace, we hope, in Calvary cemetery. Thus we had the gratification, at least, of paying a portion of the debt we owed to that good old soul for the care of me when left without a mother.

Shortly after the obsequies I took my uncle to view the country for the purpose of selecting a location. I showed him the tract which I had selected as one which suited me. That was the present Kittsondale or Midway, as it is called today. It suited him. He developed it and made a garden of the spot. Upon it he reared his family, all respectable citizens, and both he and his good wife have long since gone to their reward. "Requiescant in pace."

TREATIES WITH THE SIOUX.

The lands east of the Mississippi, obtained of the Sioux Indians by the treaty of 1837 and opened for settlement, were being taken up so fast that it became necessary for the gov ernment, through the urgency of the settlers and speculators, to acquire the lands on the west side. Hence the treaty of Mendota, August 5th, 1851. Although the previous treaty had been made and duly signed, it was not satisfactory. The Indians claimed that when ceding their lands in 1837, east of the Mississippi river, they had retained the privilege of hunting upon these lands for fifty years, or during good behavior, all of which I fully believe to be true, neither party thinking then that it would be unsafe to make such an agreement. No one would have thought that before the expiration of that time the territory would contain more than a million inhabitants and have a valuation of several hundred million dollars of taxable property.

By

The Mendota treaty became an absolute necessity. that treaty, and by the slightly earlier treaty of Traverse des Sioux, made July 23d, 1851, the several Sioux bands of southern Minnesota ceded to the government nearly all their lands in this state west of the Mississippi river, and were removed to reservations on the upper part of the Minnesota river. Two

agencies were established, one about eight miles below the mouth of the Redwood river, and the other on the Yellow Medicine river. There being more or less dissatisfaction among these Indians, when the Civil War broke out, it took but little to kindle the fire of rebellion among them. The massacre of 1862 took place, and history is replete with its consequences.

TRADE WITH THE FAR NORTHWEST.

After the removal of the Indians from Mendota in the year 1852, their direct trade with St. Paul ceased; but it always remained the headquarters for outfitting traders for the va rious adjacent tribes. This trade extended even into Manitoba, and in that direction was of great importance. It was no uncommon sight to see from a thousand to fifteen hundred carts encamped around "Larpenteur's lake," in the western part of our present city area, loaded with buffalo robes, furs of all descriptions, dressed skins, moccasins, buffalo tongues and pemican. The latter commodity was dried buffalo meat pounded and put up in 100-pound sacks, for their winter use. It was their chief supply of food, and was husbanded with the same care by these old hunters as a farmer gives to his corn. A failure in the gathering of this crop of buffalo meat by the hunters, sometimes caused by the buffalo being scarce or driven in other directions, was as serious a matter to the inhabitants as the destruction of a farmer's wheat crop by hail storm. A voyageur, when sent out by the traders, was seldom given anything else to subsist upon but a hunk of this pemican for his daily ration. And in conversation with these old voyageurs, many of them old employees of the Hudson Bay Company, I have been told that their daily rations often were no more nor less than one load of powder and ball per day, and that, being in a country where game was in abundance, they seldom went without a meal. These traders would reach here about the first of June, having left Fort Garry, now Winnipeg, as soon as the grass had grown sufficiently for their cattle to feed upon; and, in returning, they would get back about the middle of September.

GAME, AND ITS DECREASE.

Game was plentiful in those days. A poor man even with an old flint-lock gun and black powder could decorate his table once in a while with a duck, goose, or a piece of venison; but to-day, alas, where are we drifting? All are preserves. The Island pass, the Rondo pass, the Baldwin pass, all are fenced in and belong to the powers. The poor man is not in it any more. We, who have been piling abuses upon our cousins across the big pond, are we not getting there, too? The consequences are rapidly being felt. To me, it matters but little. My race is nearly run. But I cannot help looking back, and comparing the difference in the times; we had the cream, you are fighting for the skimmings. Oh, could you but realize the days your ancestors enjoyed upon these grounds you are now preserving, when Sibley, Faribault, Robert and Larpenteur were taking an evening shoot at the Island pass, when Louis Robert would cry out at every falling duck, "Hie, hie, don't shoot! That's mine!" Then there was fun all along the line. It didn't matter much anyway. There was enough for all, and for the Indians besides. There was sport then; 'tis labor

now.

STEAMBOAT TRAVEL, FREIGHTING, AND ADVENTURES.

Not having any railroad communication in those days, when all traffic depended upon the river, we sometimes ran down to Galena or Dubuque in the autumn to "stock up," because once the navigation closed we were in for all winter. Getting goods up by sleighs was rather expensive. In the fall of 1856 I found I needed a few more goods to carry me through the winter. Consequently, I ran down to Galena, bought what I needed, and found Capt. Louis Robert in port on his way up from St. Louis with his boat, "The Greek Slave." I had shipped my goods upon his boat, and was all ready for home, when, behold, the crew struck. His engineer, Bill Davis, who was his nephew, was all right; his pilot, George Nicholas, one of the oldest and best on the river, was all right. Monti, the mate, an old veteran of the Mexican war, was all right also, but the others of the crew wanted guaranties that, in case of a freeze-up, they would be returned to their homes free of expense.