Best Kept Secret

This poster from 2010 represents what you can
typically see at the festival! [Click to enlarge...]

I had the opportunity to share one of our state's 'best kept secrets' this week on Minnesota Public Radio, and it is related to our history up here in the far northwest corner of the state: The Chautauqua and French Festival at Old Crossing Treaty Park near Huot, Minnesota. Take a listen

Buildup to War

Father Goiffon

In 1861, Joseph Goiffon, a missionary at Pembina, wrote that a Dakota runner passed through the area on his way to the western plains with a war summons in preparation for a conflict with the Americans.

- From Assassination of Hole-in-the-Day, by Anton Treuer

In the above-quoted book, Professor Treuer tells how there were concurrent uprisings, but their methods were different.  Where the Dakota decided to fight back due the injustices against them, the Ojibwe tried an overall more peaceful path.  The result for each was that the Dakota had loss of life in the fighting, and the biggest mass execution in U.S. history, while the Ojibwe experienced no loss of life and received some concessions from US Government that they were after.

The Perils of Rev. Appleby

Rev. Appleby circa 1890
Photographer: W. H. Stalee 
[Minnesota Historical Society]

From the records left behind, it's clear that life could be difficult in the late 1800's on the frontiers, including here in Minnesota.  Even for pioneers of the Christian churches.  As with any group, there were good and bad 'men of the cloth'.

St. Vincent was fortunate to have one of the good ones.  After working with Ojibwa groups in the region, he was assigned to our parish.

During his time in St. Vincent, there were many practical difficulties he had to contend with...

St. Vincent's Mission, which is in charge of the Rev. H.M.V. Appleby, is the most northern in the United States.  It covers one county in Minnesota, one in Dakota, and has three outside stations involving journeys of thirty-four and forty-six miles respectively.  The difficulties met with by one traversing the region reminds one of the perils of St. Paul.  "Our work is most fatiguing, both in winter and summer;" observes the missionary, "Three times in my experience has my horse sunk through the ice and both myself and he been nearly lost.  At different times I have been lost all night, and once my horse rolled down the embankment at the end of a bridge, plunging us both into the river, though without injury.  Five times I have been nearly lost in open boat and canoe."  

Yet, notwithstanding all this, the personal inconvenience is greatly outweighed by the warm welcome, earnest inquiries after the Truth, and the deep regrets at having been so long deprived of the Church's service.  Two new churches are needed immediately in northern Dakota, pressing debts of $1,300.00 burden the mission in Minnesota, and for all the sum of $3,000.00 is needed by Bishop Whipple and the Rev. Appleby, in order that this important work be not abandoned. - Report on Minnesota, May 29, 1886 [The Churchman, Volume 53]

His impact was felt for years after he left, and is reflected in this article...

The Venerable Archdeacon  Appleby¹ assisted at the service, and his well remembered face, and soft English voice, that, for so many years, was, each succeeding Sabbath, listened to from the pulpit, will never be forgotten by his old parishioners.  Here it was that he and his Christian lady reared their interesting family; he knows every one of us, and his worth is known after he has left us. - Excerpt from article concerning Christ Church Harvest Festival, held December 4, 1891 [St. Vincent New Era²]

¹ - Thomas Henry Montague Villiers Appleby, Episcopal clergyman, b. in Regent's Park, Eng., Oct 28, 1843; was educated as a physician and priest in England; came to America in 1866; was rector in St. Vincent, Minn., 1881-1888; was appointed archdeacon of Minnesota in 1888, and of North Dakota in 1898; and general superintendent of Indian missions 1900, residing in Duluth...

While serving in St. Vincent's Christ Church, he also served in the capacity of Kittson County probate judge...

² - William Deacon, who owned and published the St. Vincent New Era until 1913 (after which the DeFrance family took over...), died in 1920 at age 83. Mr. Deacon was many things to St. Vincent, as well as being great grandfather to Margaret "Toots" Ryan, my grandmother's neighbor and good friend - Sources include The Fourth Estate [August 21, 1920]; Ryan Family page [Red River Valley website]

Caribou Tales: Dennis Boucher

St. Nicholas Ukrainian Church (Caribou, Kittson County, Minnesota)

Let me introduce you to someone from my hometown area - eastern Kittson County to be more exact, an area known as Caribou.

His name is Dennis Boucher¹, and he grew up in Caribou.

Dennis and I found one another through this website. For the past eight months, he and I have been corresponding via email, with Dennis sharing many stories of his family and area local history of which his family has been a part of. Much of it is unknown outside his family, and I am thrilled that he has been willing to share it with me.

Scientific Find in Kittson County (1892)

Found via Google Books,
aka "the researcher's friend"

The following excerpt highlights a pharmacological discovery by university scientists of an important plant (Northern Senega) in locations in northwest Minnesota, including Kittson County. 

The plant (general species, Senega - sometimes spelled Seneca) was originally identified into modern medicine, in the 18th century by a Scottish physican, whose attention was brought to it by the Seneca tribe in Pennsylvania. The plant had (and continues to have) important properties used in medical products to this day. It is also important in alternative medicine, as demonstrated at this Manitoba website showcasing local herbal remedies - all available to me in my backyard.

Trivia:  Metis (introduced to it by the Ojibwa) have long used Senega/Senega, aka Snakeroot, for it's medicinal properties.

I found it fascinating to run across this medical journal report of the find from 1892 (especially since the natives in our area are mentioned as using it mainly for subsistence purposes, not medicinal as tribes in other areas of the country had...)

THE AMERICAN

JOURNAL OF PHARMACY.

MARCH, 1892.

NORTHERN SENEGA.

By L. E. Sayre, University of Kansas.

The geographical distribution of senega has been a subject of a good deal of interest to the members of the pharmaceutical profession and the drug trade for a number of years. Chief among the contributors to our present knowledge of the drug in this particular have been Prof. J. M. Maisch and Prof. J. U. Lloyd, as will be seen by glancing over the back numbers of the American Journal of Pharmacy, the Proceedings of the American Pharmaceutical Association, and other pharmaceutical publications.

Reference has been made to senega growing in Wisconsin and Minnesota, but there has not been very definite information given, I believe, as to its collection or the exact district of country from which it is collected in these States. "Northern Senega" has been a current term meaning a variety of senega having certain physical characteristics very unlike the original Polygala Senega. Prof. Lloyd (Proc. Amer. Pharm. Asso., 1881), describing this variety¹ — which he says is derived from the Northwest from the States of Wisconsin and Minnesota—says it is very large and fleshy, sometimes white, again rather dark brown, the knotty crown measuring often from two to three inches in diameter, even of the dried plant. The root just below the knotty head is (when dry) from the size of the little finger to that of the thumb of a man ; six to ten inches in length and generally destitute of keel; not so contorted and branched as the " Southern " senega.

Northern Seneca Root
harvested in Manitoba

L. L. Dyche, Professor of Zoology and Taxidermy, of the University of Kansas, some months ago made an extensive hunting tour in the Northwest, the main point of his operations being in that country lying near the Lake of the Woods. During this hunting expedition he had an excellent opportunity of studying the country, its products and its people. On his return he handed me a root which he thought might be of some interest to me. He said it was collected in very large quantities and seemed to be one of the staples of that country. The natives depending upon its collection as one of the means of subsistence, have made this quite an industry among them. There the squaws and the children dig the root while the " Braves " hunt the valuable fur-producing animals. Prof. Dyche says that he saw at the different trading posts in Marshall and Kittson Counties, in the storehouses, as much as a thousand pounds stacked up in one heap. At a little town, Rocksted, near Thief River Falls, the Indians come in from long tramps of forty miles or more and bring in the fur, skins and this snakeroot. Here they had an immense stock on hand. Since his return, Prof. Dyche has received a letter from a trader at Jadis², Kittson County, stating that he has on hand a thousand pounds bagged up, waiting for a fair market price.

The root referred to is undoubtedly a good sample of senega. In length it varies from 4 to 8 inches; in diameter from 1/16 to 1/2 inch. Surrounding the root is a dark scar-covered head. This head in the case of younger roots is covered with immature pinkish leaf-covered stems. The characteristic keel of Southern senega is rarely present and the contour of the root is much less contorted. The color ranges from the light yellow of young roots to the dark brown of the older ones.

Near the head, prominent annulations are present. These continue with enlarging intervals of space for some distance down the root. Lengthwise the whole root is deeply wrinkled, while frequent warty enlargements occur. The branches are not numerous. In considerable quantities, the odor of gaultheria is quite prominent, as it is also in a cold aqueous infusion. The taste is very acrid.

Under the microscope the wood is found to be cylindrical, and the ingrowth of the inner bark on one side which produces the keel of the Southern variety is not apparent in a majority of cases. The wood is whitish, ligneous and occupies about y of the diameter of the root.

A sample of the drug was handed to Mr. McClung, one of the senior students, for the estimation of the polygalic acid. He used Quevenne's process, and obtained of the pure acid 35 per cent. Methyl salicylate was abundant, as shown by the ferric chloride test.

It would seem from the above that this specimen handed to me by Prof. Dyche represented a good sample of senega; its quality, equal to the average root of the market.

I have planted some of the roots, which seem to be full of vigor, and hope to be able at some future time to classify the plant.

¹ — Northern senega, collected in the northwest United States, is considerably larger than the usual variety (western senega), and darker in colour; it is less contorted and shows the keel less distinctly, but it has a very acrid taste, and is undoubtedly a good senega. It is said to be derived from Poly gala Senega, var. latifolia.

² - Jadis (named for Mr. Jadis, Kittson County Auditor) eventually was renamed Roseau - Kittson county included the western portion of what is now Roseau County until 1894 - From Kittson County History.

The Other Side of the Ledger

I discovered this film on the National Film Board of Canada website today, which I was not aware of before. I think it has a lot to say, things that needed to be said, and I want to share them with my readers. Some of the white traders the indigenous peoples worked with, knew the natives were being exploited and refused to participate. Others knew it was wrong but just looked the other way. But far too many knowingly and willingly participated, using dishonest and immoral business practices with them.

It is described as a documentary about...

The Hudson's Bay Company's 300th anniversary celebration was no occasion for joy among the people whose lives were tied to the trading stores. This film, narrated by George Manuel, president of the National Indian Brotherhood, presents the view of spokesmen for Canadian Indian and Métis groups. There is a sharp contrast between the official celebrations, with Queen Elizabeth II among the guests, and what Indians have to say about their lot in the Company's operations.

It was one of the first NFB films made by a [Canadian] First Nations filmmaker. George Manuel, then president of the National Indian Brotherhood, narrated the film; he presents the views of spokesmen from First Nations and Métis groups, including Métis historian and activist Howard Adams. They discuss the unscrupulous economic control the Hudson’s Bay Company held over First Nations and Métis peoples.

NORTH COUNTRY: The Making of Minnesota

Ironically, as I have been trying in my own humble way, to show the more accurate history (not easy to do when you are depending on second-hand accounts that many times have a skewed agenda of their own, i.e., aren't very objective), a new book trying to do the same is just being published by the University of Minnesota, called North County: The Making of Minnesota...


In an article in the Winnipeg Free Press, comes this description of the book...

Parallels between the Canadian story and the American one are striking, but not surprising. In both cases Euro-centred peoples displaced the traditional occupants, using an essentially similar combination of duplicity and force.

In both cases the native occupants were sidelined by a population that overwhelmingly outnumbered them.

What is particular to the history of Minnesota is what Wingerd terms Minnesota's "civil war." Coinciding with the early part of the American Civil War, the struggle between the Dakota [Sioux] and the incoming "Americans" -- actually waves of whites, many direct from Europe -- erupted in 1862.

Wingerd spares no detail in describing the conflict. Innocent people (many who, in another war, could be called civilians) died. Outcomes of the bloody fighting included the forcible confinement on reservations of Dakotas, at least of those not executed or jailed after hasty and often unjust trials.

Years would pass, she explains, before the heritage of Hiawatha obscured the reality of the clash of cultures in which the more powerful triumphed and advanced its version of the story.

However, as Wingerd makes clear, she believes the writing of the "new history" (and by definition, more accurate history) has really just begun.

In a recent interview, the author said,

The biggest myth is that Indians in Minnesota country were hostile to whites. In fact, there were almost no incidents of Indian attacks on white people, Europeans or Americans. When rare cases did occur, it was always an individual spat and not an organized attack. The Dakota and Ojibwe went to great lengths not to drive traders away. The Dakota were frustrated with trying to get traders to establish a stable source because they needed guns. All the tribes to the East had been supplied with firearms in the early 1600s by the Dutch and English, and it didn't matter how terrific the Dakota were as warriors. Without guns, they were at a huge disadvantage in intertribal disputes.

Major Hatch: Pembina & the Indian Wars

I started this post to be about Major E. A. C. Hatch¹ (sometimes referred to as Edward Hatch, or Edwin Hatch...) But a much more interesting story emerged about the bigger picture.

What is the bigger picture? I'll tell you. It's about a young Minnesota frontier just opening up to settlement, and citizenry panicking due to rumours, skirmishes, and some actual attacks from native populations. It's about how a bad situation became worse through panic, misunderstandings/miscommunication, and violence - horrific violence on both sides. A lot of what happened was caused by stresses (starvation/famine) brought about by over-hunting of the buffalo and loss of land due to white settlement. The resulting uprising was sadly inevitable.

It was 1863, and the uprisings of 1862 were still very fresh on peoples' minds.

Convinced now that static garrisons and even patrolling soldiers were not sufficient to protect the frontier, civilian authorities took a series of measures to boost the defense of the line of settlement. On July 4, 1863, Adjutant-General Oscar Malmors issued a general order for the establishment of a mounted corps of "volunteer scouts," consisting of experienced hunters and trappers, to patrol the Big Woods from Sauk Center to the northern edge of Sibley County. The scouts were to serve a two-month tour of duty and provide their own arms, equipment, and provisions. In return, the volunteers were to be paid two dollars a day each, with a greater incentive of twenty-five dollars offered for the scalp of each hostile Sioux Indian collected. The general order did not bother to explain the process by which any particular scalp could demonstrate the degree of "hostility" or even the tribal identity of the Indian from whom it was taken.

To bolster the enlisted scouts and the number of dead Indians a reward of seventy-five dollars was offered to any person not in military service who could produce "satisfactory proof" of the killing of a hostile Sioux warrior. This inducement to "independent scouts" was increased to two hundred dollars a head on September 22. This open season on "hostile Indians" enjoyed little success. In more than three months, bounty was paid for only five scalps. The volunteer scouts were mustered out of service on September 20.

To supplement the forces protecting Minnesota, a gaggle of high-powered state leaders, including Senator Henry Rice and Senator Morton Wilkinson, convinced the secretary of war to authorize, on June 12, the formation of a battalion of two infantry and two cavalry companies (the two infantry companies were quickly converted to cavalry.) Recruited in Minnesota and supported by Chippewa auxiliaries, the battalion was to be independent of both Pope's and Sibley's command. Placed in charge of the maverick outfit was Major Edwin A. C. Hatch, a resident of Minnesota since 1843 and a former agent to the Blackfeet Sioux; however, he lacked military experience.

Pope and Sibley were both outraged at this seeming usurpation of their military authority and control. Pope protested to both Halleck and Stanton, particularly about the part of the plan calling for Chippewa auxiliaries. In a letter to Stanton he claimed that "Hatch is but an instrument of Rice." Sibley felt that the raising of the independent battalion was a direct slap at his competence and capability. In his diary entry for July 8 he wrote, "Learned of the order granting authority to Major Hatch to raise two companies of infantry and two of cavalry to serve against the Indians during the existence of this war. The whole thing I regard as a miserable scheme got up by Rice and others, who hate General Pope and do not love me and who wish to annoy and humiliate us both. I have a contempt for the whole humbug inventor and all."

Sibley's and Pope's protestations did lead to a narrowing of the autonomy of "Hatch's Battalion," and it was placed under Sibley's command. At Sibley's suggestion the battalion was posted to the north at what later became the town of Pembina, primarily to guard against possible incursion by those Sante who had fled across the Canadian border after the 1862 uprising and also as a form of exile to this stepchild military formation. A northward march of four hundred miles from October 5 to November 13, during which many of the battalion's oxen and mules perished, brought it to its posting as winter began its usual early siege of the northern woods. High winds, deep snow, and freezing temperatures plagued Hatch's men on the march and as they constructed their cantonment. The mercury fell to forty degrees below zerio as 1863 ended, and on the first day of the new year it fell to sixty degrees below.

The abominable weather and the requirements of construction did not prevent Hatch from aggressive patrolling. For all its efforts, however, the battalion fought only one engagement with hostile Indians. News of a party of Sioux encamped near the old British trading post of St. Joseph, forty miles west of Pembina, sent a dismounted detachment of twenty out on the trail to the trading post on December 15. After a forced march, the white platoon located and closed in, undetected, around the sleeping Indian camp at 3:00AM. As the Indians awakened and began to emerge from their tepees, Hatch's men commenced firing. The fight was completely one-sided. Six Sioux were killed even before they were able to return fire, and the rest fled. Two or three soldiers were slightly wounded.

Aside from that incident, Hatch's Battalion passed a largely uneventful, if arduous winter at Pembina. From that post on the Red River in the northeast corner of Dakota seventy miles below Fort Garry, Hatch devoted much of his military activities to luring hungry and haggard Sioux refugees away from Canada. Ninety-one Sioux did recross the Canadian border during the winter to surrender themselves to the garrison. Among the Indians hoodwinked into captivity by agents of the coattail-riding crony of Senator Rice were Shakopee and Medicine Bottle, both of whom were subsequently hanged.

At the end of the long, hard winter, during which three-quarters of the post's stock died of starvation and cold, the battalion was transferred to Fort Abercrombie to garrison that post and patrol the Red River Valley...The battalion claimed a total of 28 Indians killed and 300 taken prisoner. Although hardly the elite strike force that could deal a mortal blow to whatever hostile Indians remained on the Minnesota frontier, Hatch's Battalion did perform a useful defensive and patrolling mission for the northern half of the state and saved the government the trouble and expense of detaching troops for that purpose from the battlefronts of the Civil War. (From The Dakota War: The United States Army Versus the Sioux, 1862-1865 by Michael Clodfelter)
_______________________

...The independent Battalion of Minnesota Volunteers, raised and commanded by Major E.A.C. Hatch, having been ordered to report to me for assignment to duty, was dispatched on 10th of October to Pembina, to hold in check the hostile Sioux who had retreated for safety into Her Majesty's coterminous possessions, where they could not be followed by our troops, as I had received stringent ordered from General Halleck, through department headquarters, in no case to cross the boundary line with a military force. About ninety Sioux men, women, and children came across the boundary and surrendered to Major Hatch, commanding at Pembina. The battalion, with one section of mountain howitzers of Third Minnesota mixed battery, went into winter quarters at Pembina, and remained until about the 1st of May of the present year, when I ordered Major Hatch with his command to relieve the detachments of the Eighth Regiment Minnesota Volunteers at Fort Abercrombie, and at the stations of Pomme de Terre and Alexandria, that regiment having been designated as part of the expeditionary force to join Brigadier-General Sully on the Missouri. The other three sections of the mixed gun and howitzer battery (Third Minnesota) were stationed respectively at Forts Ridgely, Snelling, and Ripley. (From Report of Operations against Indians in the District of Minnesota, written by Brigadier-General Henry H. Sibley, U.S. Army, commanding District of Minnesota, including operations from October 1, 1863 to October 1, 1864; contained in The War of the Rebellion: A compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, published by Government Printing Office 1893)
_______________________

Letters to S. D. Dept. of History, from Col. Samuel J. Brown dated Feb. 28 and March 5, 1921: in the latter he says: "My father's "letters to me [from Ft. Pembina] as well as his communications to Gen. Sibley are on file in the library of the Minnesota Historical Society." In one of those letters dated March 23, 1864, Gen. Sibley says to Gen. Pope: "Major J. R. Brown, special military agent, arrived some days ago at Fort Abercrombie from Pembina, having in charge ninety men, women, and children of the Sioux tribe, who surrendered themselves to Major Hatch at Ft. Pembina during the winter. There were originally twenty-one men, 31 women and 39 children, but one man died suddenly on the way. I have ordered all the prisoners to Fort Snelling under guard; and as among the men there are several who were deeply engaged in the outrages perpetrated on this frontier in 1862, I propose, with your sanction, to try the men by a military commission Among these captives are two half brothers and the four wives of the defunct chief, Little Crow." (Rebellion Records, Series I, vol. 34, part 2, pp. 712-13; pp. 539-40 give facts and plans of the government which show the importance of Major Brown's services at Pembina as a judicious negotiator and friend of the Indians. "Minnesota In Three Centuries," vol. III. pp. 422-3—Major Hatch.)

Major Brown came into Dakota Territory in 1863 in General Sibley's army that pursued the Sioux Indians guilty of the Minnesota Massacre of 1862. He was "Chief of Scouts and Chief Guide," in command of a large number of Indian scouts (Dakotas).6 In October, 1863, he was sent "by the Government (with Father Andre) to make peace with the Minnesota Sioux who fled to the North after the Outbreak of 1862,"7 his headquarters' being at Pembina, North Dakota. (From South Dakota Historical Collections)
_______________________

E.A.C. Hatch had Civilian experience prior to his military experience, working with the native populations - "In 1856, the year following the Stevens treaty with the Blackfoot nation, E. A. C. Hatch was a pointed agent to these tribes..." (From Bancroft Works, Volume 31, History Of Washington, Idaho, and Montana, 1845-1889, Hubert H. Bancroft, 1890. The History Company, Publishers, San Francisco) Also, in 1863, he helped broker the "Treaty with the Chippewa of the Mississippi and the Pillager and Lake Winniobigoshish Bands."


An interesting piece of trivia about the 1862 uprising is that E.A.C. Hatch was the one to break the news: "The first news of the event, the massacre in the Minnesota Valley, which touched off the flame, reached Stearns county on the evening of August 20th in a letter from E.A.C. Hatch, at Fort Ridgley, addressed to Superintendent Thompson of St. Cloud..." (From One Hundred Years Jacob's Prairie)

¹ - Hatch has been mentioned in this blog before, when I quoted an article in an anniversary edition of a local newspaper. However, that version was most definitely from a particular point of view.

Old Crossing Mural

Click on the image above to see easier-to-read larger version...

I have written of it before - the Treaty of Old Crossing. The painting above is in reference to that treaty.

Early Boundary Marker

Marker at the International Boundary and principal meridian, Pembina area, Manitoba. In background Cree medicine man with pipe leads procession to willow enclose for a dog dance ritual. Cree camp at right. Midewiwin ritual.

Sketch by Major G. Seton (of the Royal Canadian Rifles)

Historical Essay Spotlight: Bouvettes

This historical essay, one of many written by hundreds of Red River Valley students, is about a local area family many of us know first-hand, knowing their descendants to this day. It is one of the more informative essays, with many trivia about the family it is specifically about, as well as general history of the native peoples, which I find incredibly fascinating. There is much, much more to the cultures, traditions, and tribal knowledge of the aboriginals of our area than most of us can imagine; the family that this essay is about, was part of that knowledge in their intersection with the natives through marriage and friendship...

The Bouvette Family & Their History As Members Of The Red River Valley
by Mary Ann Bernath

The nineteenth century found the Red River Valley much different from what it is today. There was no civilization with the exception of Fort Snelling, Fort Abercrombie, Fort Totten, Sauk Center, St. Cloud, and Fort Pembina. It was to these wilderness areas that men came, looking for newer and richer lands to make their homes on. There were no roads to follow, only the trails made by the Red River ox carts. The Red River Valley was the home of the Sioux and Chippewa Indians, vast herds of buffalo, and many other types of wild game.

Because there was so much wild game in the Red River Valley, many fur trading companies were established in the area. It was due to the formation of one of these companies in this area that brought one of the present families of the Red River Valley into the area; namely, the Bouvettes.

The Bouvette family first came from France. Francois Bouvette and his wife came from France to Quebec, Canada in the early 19th century. Their oldest son, who was also named Francois, was the Bouvette who was to bring this family into the Red River Valley. Francois married Mary Goudrie in Quebec and they moved to St. Boniface in the early 1840's. They lived there for a time and had three children. Francois (Frank) born in 1846, Nora, and Caroline. It was during the years that they lived here that Francois bought some land in Winnipeg on which he established a wharf. The land he acquired consisted of all of Portage Avenue, and all of what is known as Armstrong Point. It was called Bouvette's Landing. One time, when he was taking a barge loaded with cans containing nitroglycerin to his landing the authorities wouldn't let him land. Francois had considerable trouble finding a spot at which the explosive material could be landed. The nitro was to be used in the construction of the Canadian Pacific Railroad. The nitroglycerin had been transported by Red River carts to the headwaters of the Red River. After the spring freshet was over and the water had subsided somewhat, the barge was cut loose and was permitted to float to Winnipeg. When Francois was finally able to land his barge, he sold the big logs that made up the framework of the barge for $1.00 per foot and these logs were used to build foundations for houses.The Bouvette's moved from St. Boniface to St. Cloud in what is now Minnesota in the late 1850's. It was here that Francois obtained a job working for Norman Kittson's Northwest Fur Company [post]. Francois was a captain in Kittson's Red River Ox Cart Train and he made frequent trips to Fort Snelling, Fort Abercrombie, Fort Totten, St. Peter (St. Paul), Fort Pembina, and Fort Gary in Winnipeg. While living here, the Bouvette's had two more children. Elizabeth, and Joseph who was born in 1866.

In 1869, Francois decided to move his family back to St. Boniface where he could still continue his ox cart driving and yet be nearer his wharf. On the trip back at approximately a point between Pembina and the Canadian border, the ox cart and wagon train in which they were traveling was attacked by Louis Riel of Canada. Riel who was quite an outlaw during this time and he preyed upon settlers, killing them and stealing their cattle. It was a serious offense to steal cattle in those days because they were so scarce and milk was hard to find. Riel stopped this group and held them prisoners in a log building which is presently erected in the Emerson, Manitoba Park. When Riel found out that a company of soldiers were on their way to free these people, he left and escaped into Canada. Francois, after being released by the Pembina soldiers, decided he didn't want to run into Riel and his gang again. To prevent this, he took his family back to Fort Pembina and they settled there.

Two children were born to the Bouvette family while they lived in Pembina. They were Albert and Emma. As a young boy, Joseph had an important job. Every day he took fresh bread out to the soldiers at Fort Pembina. He traveled in a sleigh pulled by a big Saint Bernard dog. Each morning, as soon as the bread came out of the ovens, Joseph was seated in the bottom of a sleigh and the bread was piled around him. Then, over top of all the bread and Joseph, a large buffalo hide was put down. Even it is was storming, Joseph would take bread out to the fort because the dog knew every inch of the way.

Joseph was raised with Indians as his neighbors and he learned both the Chippewa and Sioux languages from the children. Because of his relationship as a playmate of the Indians, he learned many of their customs. One of these customs was the way in which the squaws diapered their babies. First, the Squaws would soft tan a deer skin until it was as soft as chamois. They would then cut this skin into the proper dimensions and line it with cat tail down which they had harvested in the fall. This material was very absorbent and they placed a layer of several inches in the skin diaper and then wrapped the child in it. To clean it, they only had to shake the down out of the skin and replace it with fresh cut cat tail down. Inventiveness was a trait which the Indians put to good use. For a powder, they ground up rotten bark from decayed trees. They ground it until it was the consistency of face powder and this was used as powder to dress an infant when changing its diaper. The late Dr. A. W. Shaleen, doctor in Hallock, Minnesota and friend of the Bouvette family, upon hearing this story said the rotten bark contained a high percentage of penicillin, and since that drug is a mold, it must have contained great healing qualities and prevented the babies from getting rashes.

Mr. Joseph Bouvette attended the first public school in the state of North Dakota. One of his classmates at that school, located in Pembina, was the late Governor Welford of North Dakota.

In those early days of setting up restrictions between Canada and the United States, customs officials were Presidential appointees.

Joseph served as Inspector of Customs under the administration of Benjamin Harrison during the years 1889-1893. After the administration changed, he was discharged from his job and he then had to find another job. Joseph then moved to Hallock, Minnesota where he bought out the Kittson County Enterprise from Ed Love in 1893. Mr. Bouvette then became its editor and went to work trying to make a real success as previous owners hadn't been able to. Joseph was well qualified to operate a newspaper because as a young man he had worked for Mr. Wardwell who published the Pembina Pioneer Express. He had learned printing and how to run presses there.

Mr. Bouvette was married to Ellen Chevins in 1895. She was born in Landon, Ontario, Canada in 1873 and had moved to Emerson, Manitoba when only three years old. It was here that she met Joseph Bouvette. They had four children, one a son who died in infancy, followed by Clifford, Mildred, and Calvin.

Albert Bouvette, Joseph's younger brother, was an excellent speed skater and had raced Norval Baptie for the championship of the world. Albert, his brother Joseph, and Norval had all skated together as boys and all of them were accomplished skaters. Albert was defeated by Norval Baptie in the championship race when Baptie came in ahead of him with a lead of a few inches.

Clifford, son of Joseph, was very interested in his father's work as a boy. He learned to set type by hand when he was only 10 years old. By the time he was 14 years old, he could operate the press himself.

In 1943, the publishers of the Enterprise put out a 50th anniversary edition. It was a large paper containing many historical points of interest about people, towns, churches, and places of business. It took a lot of work to compile a paper like this and the editor was one of the best qualified to do it. Skilled in the art of drawing, Joseph Bouvette took over the responsibility of drawing the cover and many of the Fort Pembina and Pembina town sketches.

Mr. Bouvette edited the paper for a total of 52 years until his death in 1945 at which time his son Clifford became its editor. Calvin and Clifford both own half interests in the paper and while Clifford is the Editor, Calvin is the papers Business Manager. Clifford has been associated with the KITTSON COUNTY ENTERPRISE for 61 years now.

Clifford was a State Legislator in the year 1937. He only served one term because he was needed at home.

The Bouvette family was one of the first pioneer families to come into the Fort Pembina area. They have contributed to the growth and development of that area in such a way that they will always be remembered.

Bibliography

Bouvette, Clifford. Interview on January 31, 1968
Bouvette, Clifford. Information by letter correspondence on Feb. 6, 1968
Bouvette, Clifford. Interview on February 13, 1968
Mortenson, Mildred. Information by letter correspondence, Feb. 29, 1968

First Farmers

In 1832, Anglican missionary William Cockran tried to convert Red River Natives to Christianity and a life of farming. The plan failed. Cockran concluded that Natives were ill-suited for farming. Today, archeological investigations have proved the Anglican missionary to have been wrong.

What they were wrong about was assuming (not for the first time, nor the last) that the aboriginal populations, since they were not currently farming, had never farmed. They were wrong...

Several thousand years before the arrival of European immigrants, many Native nations in North America had developed sophisticated farming methods. Four centuries before Europeans settled beside the Red River, Native people were agricultural pioneers in the valley.

The skills of these early farmers are attested to by recent archeological evidence...

The Native farmers...developed a strain of corn that could mature in the typical 100-day growing season near the present-day Canadian border with the United States Midwest. The adaptation of corn to the long-day, short-season environment of the Red River Valley - from the plant's original short-day, long-season climate in Central America - testifies to the selective plant breeding skills of these first farmers.

So what happened to the farming skills of the natives? Why didn't early European explorers observe farming being practiced by the natives they encountered?

500 years ago, during the so-called Little Ice Age, summers became much shorter and cooler. With this climatic change, the pendulum swung back to hunting, fishing and food-gathering as the primary ways to survive. The skills of agriculture fell into disuse and were virtually forgotten.

From Red River - First Farmers

Bordertowns: Chapter 5

Jerold was proud of the three mules Ian had purchased. They pulled well together and were fast becoming pets. Occasionally Jerold would pick small bunches of the delicate sweet-grass and hold it out to them. Their flop ears stood straight as they vied with one another, greedily stretching their necks to seize the morsel from his hand. The new breaking plow was his joy, and after each day's use, he wiped the gleaming share with an oily rag to prevent rust; then he carefully greased the wheels.

At his request Ian approached a local blacksmith, and together Ian and the smith made a twelve-foot harrow with an oak frame and steel teeth. Jerold was determined to fall plow the next year's acreage quota in addition to the oat land which he would cut for their future winter's hay. He reasoned the frost would break up the large lumps by spring. Harrowing it then would form a good seedbed for the future crop. When his father agreed with his suggestion, Jerold's face beamed.

Mary or Jerold frequently checked Mike while he herded the cows, never letting him know he was being watched. Both knew there was little danger to the boy, for there were no poisonous snakes in the area. In addition, Mike was warned time and again to always remain within sight of the village.

Early that fall Patrick and Ian, along with several of the grading crew, were taken off the scraper work and employed removing and stockpiling rails from river barges and huge piles previously stacked along the riverbank. They were told the final leveling of the roadbed would be left until spring. Toward the end of October, work finally ran out and the crew was laid off with a promise of being rehired in early spring. Ian was only too glad to be released. He was sick of the foreman, Brogan, who had repeatedly ridiculed him with disparaging remarks, often using foul language. Ian found himself gritting his teeth, barely able to control his temper. He feared losing his job, knowing any display of anger ending in fisticuffs would automatically result in his being fired and blacklisted. Patrick felt fortunate in driving his own team, a team he had raised from colts while in Orillia. A young team true, but well trained by him and the boys. He noticed that the foreman vented his wrath only on the younger men, perhaps afraid the more experienced would take him to task. He felt relieved at his layoff, for preparations had to be made for the coming winter. The house needed banking, the barn needed repairs, and the few acres of oat hay had to be hauled in from his land in the States.

Maggy’s pregnancy was now obvious. She found she suffered the same back pains she had endured during past pregnancies. Jerold was her savior, often doing household chores in addition to his outside duties. "Mother, I've plenty of time. You rest -- there's lots of help."

A young lieutenant from the American fort, Kirby Ralston, stopped by occasionally to visit Mary. He had introduced himself while on a routine border patrol, stopping to ask her name. He was tall, handsome and courteous; Maggy secretly thought him ideal for Mary's future. When Maggy made a chance remark in his presence about the shortage of whitewash, the next patrol passing by dropped off a mixture of lime, whiting and adhesive.

Patrick built a hayrack for their wagon, and the men hauled and stacked over thirty tons of hay against their cattle shed. After the hay was up, the men went stateside to cut the winter's firewood from the land grant. The trees along the river were mostly oak, ash and elm, with a sprinkling of poplar. Every deadfall was picked up and several large ash trees were cut and corded. Patrick remarked to Jerold, "It only takes three big ash trees to make a cord of wood. It'll burn green without forming Creosote in the chimney. We'll have to cut the oak early in the spring for next winter's use. It'll be dry by fall."

By chance, while stopping at the St. Vincent lumberyard, the proprietor, Nixon, introduced Ian to a fur buyer from St. Paul. "Ian, this man is a representative of Abram Furs from the cities. He is seeking someone in the area to act as a fur buyer. Would you be interested? It's strictly a wintertime job."

"I could use the money, but I know nothing about buying furs."

The Abrams representative smiled. "Not to worry. Two years ago I was in the same boat, but it's not a difficult trade to learn. All it takes is common sense." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew several cards. Handing one to Ian, he said, "These are the prices you should pay for prime pelts, but only prime. If you'll take the job, I'll give you a hasty education, here and now. I'll buy all the pelts you can garner this winter and pick them up in St. Vincent. My next trip will be early in January. You'll buy only on the U.S. side of the line, east and west of the Red River.”

The thought ran through Ian's mind, if this man learned how to buy furs, so can I. Eyeing the buyer, he said, "I'll take the job."

"Good! Now come outside. I've some furs in my buggy that I'll show you." For the next hour the buyer thumbed through various pelts. All were prime, or nearly so, but he showed Ian how to detect green hides by color of the skin. He also clued him in on worthless hides, by the loose, shedding or discolored hair. After completing his instruction, he said, "You'll have to finance yourself until I return. That's customary. You'll find our company reliable; Mr. Nixon will vouch for my honesty." Studying Ian carefully, he added, "There are furs to be had on the Canadian side of the border. They may gravitate to you, but don't get involved in smuggling. It's a mighty temptation, but we'll disown you if you are caught."

That afternoon Ian stopped at McRae's blacksmith shop in Emerson, the smith who had assisted him in making the harrow for Jerold. He mentioned accepting the offer of the fur buyer, but said worriedly, "The thing that bothers me is that I don't know any of the breeds and Indians around the area."

"Might be able to help you there." McRae began to smile. That is, if you can stand the man's smell. He's a breed, a Chippewa, almost looks white. He's a Mide. Know what that means?"

"Some kind of witch doctor?"

"Just about. It's a society of the Indians, organized to preserve the traditions and to give the ambitious a good living at the expense of others of the tribe." He laughed, "Something like the Orange Lodge and the Masons."

"Anyway, he's supposed to be a fourth degree, entitled to be called a Midewewan. He’s supposed to have magic powers, able to change into an animal or bird, if you can believe that crap. He's a shaman to his people, and well respected and obeyed by the local Indians and breeds. He hangs around here most afternoons, usually late in the day." McRae smiled sheepishly. "My fault, for I feed and share a bottle with him now and again." Turning momentarily to pump the bellows of the forge, he added, "Don't know his last name, but everyone calls him Pete, just Pete. He stays in St. Vincent with old man Grant."

"Will he work for me?"

"He might; he's usually broke. Why don't you come back later in the day? He may show up."

When Ian returned just before dark, he found McRae bending strips of iron on the toe of his anvil. Ian recognized the pieces he was bending to be future horseshoes. A ragged, hunched-up figure sat silently watching McRae.

"Ian, this is Pete." McRae nodded toward the man.

Pete's face was expressionless, and his gaze remained upon McRae, even after the introduction. Ian noted the broad, powerful shoulders, the shapeless coat, and the trousers tucked into high-laced moccasins. The man's face was burnished a tan color; his black hair hung carelessly from beneath a dirty stocking cap. The coppery cheeks were devoid of hair, but his lower chin showed a few sparse, black whiskers, indicating some white heritage. Ian detected a cunning expression on his face and sensed the potentiality for brutality in his makeup.

"Will you work for me? I'm going to buy furs." As he asked, Ian wondered how long it had been since the man had a bath and a change of clothes.

The breed, Pete, finally gazed at him. "You feed and pay?"

Ian nodded. "I'll feed you and pay you what you're worth."

"When start?"

"Tomorrow. I live by the boundary . . . "

"Know where you live. I be there in morning."

Pete stood slowly and held out his hand. A slow smile came to his face. Ian guessed his newly hired man to be a bit over six feet in height and approximately forty-five years of age.

McRae ceased bending the horseshoe on the anvil horn to say, "You've got your man, now try to keep him sober." He grinned at Pete in a conspiratorial manner. Ian noted the sly grin that appeared on the Indian's face.

Habitually, Ian was the first to arise each morning to start the kitchen fire and make coffee. Even before he entered the kitchen the following morning, he detected a strange, smoky odor. There, sitting by the kitchen door, was Pete. He had quietly entered the house sometime during the early hours and seated himself on the short bench by the door.

Wordlessly, Ian lighted the kindling in the stove and filled the coffee pot with water. Measuring out coffee beans, he dropped them into the small grinder and turned the crank. Finally he added the grindings to the pot. Pete watched his every move without speaking.

Moments later, the creaking of a bed could be heard, then slow footsteps on the stairs. When Patrick entered the kitchen, still tugging on his trousers, he saw Pete. He exclaimed, "What the hell?"

Ian grinned. "My hired man. I told you about him last night."

Patrick attempted to cover his surprise by pretending indifference. Then, obviously curious, he asked Pete, "How did you get into the house without making a sound?"

Pete said nothing, but pointed to his moccasins. Patrick shook his head in wonder, finally turning to the cupboard for cups. Later, when he told Maggy about it, she exclaimed, "Lord, Pat, we could be murdered in our beds!"

The sun had aged, becoming weak when the first snowflakes came on November 20. Hours later the wind came out of the northwest with a fury, discouraging all outdoors work. Visibility dropped to zero for the following two days. It was after this first storm that Patrick loosened his purse to purchase sheepskin coats for each member of the family. He also bought a second Swede saw, and the boys began cutting the stacked cordwood into stove lengths. Neighbors warned of the necessity to keep at least a week's supply of wood by the back door for emergencies.

The high price of coal oil, one dollar a gallon, resulted in only one lamp being used in the evenings when supper was over. Mary was again teaching, so she was usually crowded close to the feeble light, studying and planning for the next day. Only recently she and Mr. Baldwin had paid a visit to one of the town founders, Mr. Fairbanks. They complained about a lack of books, supplies and a proper blackboard for the school. Their request met with some success, for two weeks later a huge slate was delivered and attached to an inside wall of the schoolroom.

Mike's pet badger, now fully grown, was put into the small chicken house with the birds, supposedly to hibernate for the winter. The animal slept, but only periodically, waking each time the birds were fed. On one occasion Mike allowed the badger to follow him back to the house. While no one was watching, his pet tore open a 100-pound sack of flour. The resulting mess caused his firm banishment to the chicken house for the remainder of the winter.

Winter boredom set in and Patrick began to carve duck decoys from chunks of soft poplar stove wood. Discussions were held on how they should be painted. Ian suggested the color of mallards, but Jerold disagreed. "There are just as many pintails and spoonbills as mallards on the lake and river. Why not paint some of each?"

Patrick looked from one son to the other. "I'll carve an even dozen. You two can do the painting."

Shaggy coats appeared on the horses and mules as nature provided protection against the cold. Twice a week Jerold harnessed the horses and, using a homemade sled, loaded and spread the manure on the garden area. The milk cows were fed, watered and milked in the barn to protect them from the intense cold. Only when the temperature moderated, or when Jerold cleaned the barn, were they allowed outside.

Early in the winter snow was melted for washing and drinking water. Evaporation from the snow kept moisture in the house, aiding the family's comfort. In December the men joined neighbors in cutting ice from the Red River, keeping a load of the crystal-clear blocks stacked on sawhorses near the back door. When Mike questioned the wisdom of raising the heavy blocks of ice off the ground, Patrick laughed. "Dogs, son, dogs. We don't want yellow ice."

Melting snow for water required prodigious amounts of crystals, while the ice required very little space, being water in a solid form. Mike was hard pressed to understand why the muddy river water froze into the clear, glassy form. He was skeptical of Mary's explanation that only the water would freeze, excluding the dirt particles.

The Presbyterian Church started a Sunday school and Mary volunteered to take over the youngest of the children. Reverend Scott managed to obtain drawings to illustrate the biblical stories, making it more interesting for the youngsters.

After several unsuccessful tries, Jerold managed to construct a snow igloo for Mike. He found hard-packed snow necessary to form the building blocks. Even so, it was Ian's hired man, Pete, who aided and advised him on the construction. Jerold laughingly admitted to his father, "I cheated; I used water to freeze the blocks together.

Ian began buying furs in early November, often visiting the breeds and Indians on the west side of the river. His Métis helper thought nothing of venturing long distances through the snow to a shack, tepee, or one of the dugouts along the river. Most of Pete's friends lived at the Indian camp located north of Pembina, and seemingly through them, he was able to contact others.

Pete's only problem, other than his smoky odor, was the strong drink occasionally consumed at stops made to buy furs. Ian found himself spending an occasional night away from home, sometimes due to the distance traveled, but often because of Pete's inability to walk after getting drunk. He knew Pete's road to hell was paved with good intentions, but when he was drunk, he was irresponsible. Ian knew that to refuse any hospitality offered by Métis or Indians would be taken as an insult, but he soon learned how to decline the liquor with courtesy, and not linger too long at any one stop. Pete, on the other hand, would loiter as long as any liquor remained in a bottle or jug.

Traveling the twenty miles west to Smuggler's Point by horse or snowshoes involved spending the night, the snow being deep on the prairie; especially deep where the tall grass held the drifting snow. After the first thaws in early spring problems were encountered; ice forming on the surface of the snow cut into the horse's forelegs.

To his surprise Ian found the Indians in awe of Pete, and they often broke into a chant when he and Ian visited their camps. Ian also found the Indians very superstitious. To them it seemed that anything out of the ordinary bordered on the occult. The only conclusion Ian could reach was that both the Indians and breeds accepted Pete as some sort of medicine man.

The quantity of furs that began to come into his possession made Ian suspect that many were smuggled across the border from Canada. Yet, he felt no guilt, for he deemed anything he purchased stateside as legal.

One evening in late November, Pete insisted upon Ian's stopping at Joseph Grant's house, where Pete lived. It was late and Ian was anxious to reach home before total darkness. Pete was insistent, saying, "You'll see. You'll see."

Ian's objections ceased when he glimpsed Grant's youngest daughter Susan. Although she was of a mixed race, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was tall and slender, very fair-skinned and shapely, with a mischievous smile. He was instantly smitten and could scarcely keep his eyes from her. Unfortunately, she went to bed that evening before he could speak with her. From the general conversation that ensued, Ian learned that Susan had an older sister named Marguerite. She was being sparked by the sheriff from Pembina and was away at the time. His next visits to the Grant home were frustrating; in spite of his every effort to speak to Susan, either her father or mother rebuffed him.

Ian guessed Joseph Grant's age at nearly 70. His skin had the thin-translucent look of the aged. The droop of his shoulders and forward pitch of his head were readily noticeable.

Joseph's wife, Annette, was much younger, possibly in her early 40's. Her complexion was light and clear, and she retained an attractive face and shapely body. She was quite youthful looking, to Ian's thinking. He mentally questioned the difference in their ages and was puzzled. It didn't make sense to him.

Pete detected Ian's interest in Susan during that first visit, and teasingly whispered, "Pretty girl! Pretty young!"

Ian glanced at Pete suspiciously, guessing that it had been his intention all along that he see Susan. You schemer! He thought. He smiled to himself as he whispered back, "Beautiful girl! Almost old enough to marry!"

On December l0 Ian picked up the mail on his way home for dinner. In addition to the St. Paul Globe newspaper, there was a letter for Mary. She felt her heart beating wildly as she tore open the seal.

December 7, l877

Winnipeg

Dearest Mary,

Absence does make the heart grow fonder! I will see you before Christmas if all go as planned. So many of our surveyors quit this past summer due to the trying circumstances of weather, mosquitoes and sickness, that we remaining few must bear the burden of completing the work. We arrived in the city yesterday and are endeavoring to finish our maps.

Thank the Lord! I am to be assigned to the Selkirk-Emerson route this coming spring. It will mean all the world to me, for I will be able to see you frequently. My stay with you over Christmas will be limited, as we never seem to catch up on work. I hope to spend almost a week with you, hopefully longer.

From your letters I gather your family home is small and crowded. Don't make any special preparations, since I've already written to the Hutchison Hotel for a room. I can hardly wait to see you again. I should arrive there a day or two before Christmas.

All my love!

Robert

Her fantasizing over the letter that afternoon, as she read it over and over, was interrupted by the sound of a horse approaching the house. The rhythmic crunching of its hooves could be heard clearly on the path outside. Hastily stretching a shawl over her shoulders, she opened the door to see a heavily bundled man astride a steaming horse. It was the tall, smiling Lieutenant Kirby Ralston from the fort. Stepping down from the horse, he casually tossed the reins to the ground and began tugging at his heavy mittens. Noting the reserved look on her face, he said mildly, "Golly, I flattered myself into thinking that you'd be glad to see me."

For a moment Mary was at a loss for words. Then she smiled. "Oh, Kirby, I am glad to see you! You know you're always welcome here! Come inside . . . it must have been a cold ride from the fort. It's way below zero."

"One moment." Turning back to his horse, he removed a blanket from behind the saddle and spread it over the animal, prudently securing it. When he had completed the chore, he followed Mary into the house.

Maggy looked up from the table where she had been putting her hair up into a bun. From her relaxed posture and form, it was obvious the baby would be arriving soon.

"Hello, Kirby! Don't worry about the snow on your boots. We need the moisture in the house. Have some time off?" She studied the tall lieutenant's face, knowing well that he was in pursuit of her daughter. From prior visits he had impressed her with his courtesy and knowledge. She knew he was a recent graduate of West Point and the son of an influential eastern family. Secretly, she determined to do everything in her power to push her daughter in his direction. Turning to Mary, she suggested, "Why don't you start tea?"

Mary knew her mother favored Kirby, but although he was a fine figure of a man, he didn't excite her, as did Robert. Going to the cupboard, she casually lifted the plates to hide Robert's letter under them. While Kirby seated himself across from her mother, she filled the kettle and moved it to the hottest part of the stove. Tea, to her mother, had become a social amenity, necessitating careful brewing and steeping, with attention to sugar and milk. Her mother liked lemon with her tea, but none were available just now.

"What's new at the fort, and in Pembina?" Maggy’s winter confinement made her eager for news.

"The usual. A stolen horse and a few frozen ears and toes." He laughed as he removed his heavy coat. "The sheriff took after the horse thief. It was George Parker's animal. The fool left it tied in front of the Double Decker saloon while he caroused with his cronies." He shook his head. "Sheriff Brown will catch the thief before he gets to Grand Forks. All he has to do is follow the tracks in the snow."

Mary picked three matching bone china cups from the varied assortment on the shelf and poured the fragrant tea. Kirby appraised her quietly, realizing he had never expected to find such a stunning girl in a prairie town. Why, she would light up any room, even his folk's home in Washington. He waited for her to sit down. "Mary, I've come to invite you to the Christmas Eve Ball at the fort." Glancing at Maggy, he added, "Maggy, you and your husband are also invited. Captain Collins has entrusted me with your invitation." Reaching into his blouse, he withdrew a small envelope and placed it before her. "There are over 100 invitations being sent out, many to folks in Emerson. It's to be a formal ball."

Maggy’s eyes glowed as she opened the envelope. She knew that the honor of this invitation was due to Kirby. "Oh, Kirby, you know Pat and I can't come. The baby is due at the end of January." Reflecting, she added, "It would be nice if we could be there to watch. Oh pshaw! It probably wouldn't work out." Turning to Mary, she exclaimed, "Just think, your first formal ball! You and Kirby will have a wonderful time. The officers will all be in dress uniform and the ladies in evening gowns."

Mary wished she could magically disappear. Her hopes were being shattered; she wanted to spend Christmas with Robert. Kirby was kind and sincere, and probably fine husband material, but he was not for her. She ran her forefinger around the edge of the teacup. The long silence that ensued was almost embarrassing.

"Well, what about it?" her mother demanded.

She could feel her temper rising. "Mother, I promised Robert I'd spend the holidays with him. He's coming at Christmas time and I can't let him down."

Kirby's disappointment was obvious. Then he suddenly brightened. "Well, if he is here on Christmas Eve, I'll invite him and we'll both escort you to the ball!"

"Would you?" Her face suddenly lit up. "In that case I'll gladly accept." She noted the look of chagrin on her mother's face and sought to defuse the tension. "Mother, I wish you and Father would go. Perhaps we could arrange it.”

Kirby was talkative and seemingly forgot the uncomfortable moment. From then on he and Maggie virtually monopolized further conversation. Mary relaxed to gather her thoughts. Perhaps Robert won't want to go to the ball. Even so, it would be unfair of me not to tell him of Kirby's invitation. Why did this situation have to happen? And the very first time I've been invited to a party at the fort. She could feel tears of frustration forming.

Late that afternoon, after Kirby had returned to Pembina, Mary walked to Trayner's millinery and apparel store on Main Street. The small door stood between two large display windows. The building itself was long and narrow, with a single aisle. Glass cabinets stood on either side, displaying lace, ribbons and all matter of trim for gowns and dresses. Although she had saved very little of her teaching money, she determined to have a stylish gown for the coming occasion. After minutes spent selecting a pattern, she settled on a rose silk material. Then seeds of doubt encompassed her. The material was expensive, and the fine stitching required a skill beyond her ability. Besides, she realized there were only a few days left until Christmas. A quick glance indicated that the dressmaker was behind in her work; several partially finished gowns hung in sight. Addressing the owner, she said, "Miss Trayner, I need a gown for the Christmas Eve Ball at Fort Pembina. How much would it cost and would you have time to make it for me?"

The small, short, bespectacled woman eyed Mary intently. At first she saw an image of herself, of decades ago. She noted with distaste the sheepskin coat and faded wool scarf. But it was the oval face and perfect creamy complexion, set off glossy black hair that won her over. Lordy, this child is a beauty! And her stature! Irish, of course, but she has no brogue. Her family hasn't much, goodness--they just moved here last summer. She's certainly not getting much pay as a teacher at the school. She can hardly afford my prices. How can I tell her that it's just impossible for me to squeeze in another customer?

Slowly an idea came to mind and she began to smile. Lately the demands on her time by the social set of Emerson were wearing on her. In fact, she was becoming irritated at the constant clamors to hurry, hurry, hurry. She would defy the elite of the community and turn this young Aphrodite into a princess. She would play Venus and bring this plain girl to life. It would be like the story of Pygmalion. Reaching out to touch Mary's shoulder reassuringly, she said, "Wait a moment. I have an idea."

Walking to the back room, she disappeared, to return within moments with a large box. After wiping away the dust, she cut the cords and raised the lid. Reaching inside she carefully lifted out a yellow silk dress. Examining it minutely, she smiled. “It's kept to perfection; it hasn't faded a bit." Handing it to Mary, she advised, "Go into the back room and try it on. It's closing time. I'll draw the curtains and lock the door."

After removing her heavy coat and sliding her wool dress off over her head, Mary felt uncomfortable. She was ashamed of her thin cotton chemise, high wool socks and boots. Carefully she sought the bottom of the silk dress and hurriedly slid it down over her shoulders. Seconds later, Miss Trayner rejoined her and began to hook the long row of small buttons at the back of the dress.

"Hold still, Mary, I don't want to pinch you. Ah! It's just as I thought. It fits to perfection. A little tight in the bosom, but that's to the best."

Mary could feel the tight enclosure of her breasts and buttocks under the yellow silk and turned partially to view herself in the oval mirror. She almost blushed when she saw the snug fit of glimmering silk over her bottom, and just below, the billowing, swirling, and circular full hemline brushing the floor. Turning to face the mirror fully, she was shocked to see most of her cleavage daringly revealed. Why, but for her chemise she would have been exposed nearly to her nipples! The gown actually hung from her upper arms, for her shoulders were completely bare, showing an expanse of creamy white flesh. Startled, she interjected aloud, "Oh, Heavens! Mother will be shocked if I wear this!"

"Hold still. Don't move!" The seamstress ignored her outburst and walked to the front of the store, returning with a double strand of imitation pearls. As she fastened the clasp behind Mary's neck, she said, "I'll lend these to you; they'll balance the neckline." Stepping back, she studied Mary critically. "There's still something missing. You'll need a pair of small curved combs or a clasp comb to set off your long hair and add to your height. Here, I'll show you." Stepping behind Mary, she bunched the heavy, long hair upright in her clenched fist, letting it fall to the rear, down over Mary's shoulders. "It adds to your height and poise, almost like a crown, you might say."

In the looking glass Mary could see the effect it created. She remembered her mother's Spanish combs. Perhaps she could borrow them. A sudden feeling of dismay came over her. "I can't buy this dress Miss Trayner. It must cost a fortune!"

The small woman looked at her intently. "My name is Emily . . . please call me that in the future. After all, we'll be seeing each other often." Turning partially away, she said, "I made that dinner dress for my niece when we lived in Toronto. She never wore it; she died during the diphtheria epidemic of '70."

Noting tears forming on the wrinkled cheeks, Mary gathered the small woman to her. Moments later, the seamstress pulled away. Finding a handkerchief, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose violently. "There now! That's over with."

Looking up, she said, "I'll be proud if you'll wear the gown. It's yours now; I don't want to keep it any longer; it holds too many memories." Then her personality changed dramatically; she was all business. "You'll need slippers and a wrap to match. Slippers are no problem. Mr. Suffel, the shoemaker, has them in a variety of colors. But a wrap . . . oh my!"

Mary was overwhelmed by the gift, but reasoned aloud, "It's so cold now, Miss Trayner -- I mean Emily! -- I'd be forced to wear a heavy coat when we travel to the fort. Perhaps I can wear a loose sweater under the coat to protect the dress -- or I could put it on at the fort. I still don't know what mother will say. The dress is gorgeous, but it's so mature. I've never worn anything so beautiful. It frightens me!"

"Ah, youth, and your first ball! Perhaps it's a bit daring." She grasped the front of the bodice and raised it slightly. "I'll take in the flare at the shoulders to conceal a bit." She tittered nervously. "It's not what's revealed; it's what's concealed."

Quickly she stepped behind the counter and returned with elbow-length, yellow gloves that matched the dress. "Try these on for size. You'll need a pair and you shall pay for them." Firmly, she added, "After all, I've a store to run, and it must support me."

In gratitude Mary impulsively hugged the small woman and kissed her cheek. "I don't know what to say, but thank you! Thank you!"

After re-dressing and shrugging her arms into her heavy coat, Mary wrapped her scarf over her head, tucking the ends under her coat collar. She was about to close the door when she heard Miss Trayner's parting words, "Come in tomorrow and we'll do a final fitting. Then you can take it home for your mother's approval. I'll bet she'll love it."

Stepping to the street, Mary turned toward home, her mind a hodgepodge of thoughts. Seconds later she became aware of a huge, heavily-bearded man standing in front of the corner tavern. A peculiar feeling of fear came over her for it was nearing dark. As she approached the saloon, the man made no effort to step aside; instead, he held out his arms to stop her. Her first reaction was that the man was drunk. Alarmed, she attempted to pass around him, but he easily blocked her movement and grasped at her arm. The feel of his fingers revolted her and she jerked free.

In a gruff voice he said, "Whoa now, girly! Let's have a look at you." For a brief moment he studied her face, and then said, "I know you from somewhere."

She ducked quickly under his outstretched arm and ran. She heard his laughter from behind, and at a safe distance cast a look back at him. He was facing her with a vacuous expression on his face. It wasn't until she was nearly home that she felt safe.

That evening when her father and Ian came home for supper, Mary related her experience with the stranger. Ian broke in angrily, "It could have been that foreman, Brogan. You say he was a big man, and heavily bearded? Was his head canted to one side?"

"I don't remember. I was so frightened."

"If it was Brogan, I'd like to deform him!" Ian was furious.

"Easy, son, he'll get his due some day. He'll find the wrong man to insult." Patrick was angered at first, but Maggie reached over to take his hand. At her reassuring squeeze, he turned to her and smiled, returning the pressure.

It was after Maggy and Mary had gone to bed that Ian managed to converse alone with his father. "I've heard talk that Brogan came from eastern Canada, and that he arrived here shortly after we did."

Patrick said grimly, "I've heard it too, and I can guess what you're thinking. You believe he could be the one who attacked your sister, eh?"

"It's possible, Pa. He has that crooked neck."

"Just a shot in the dark, but there's no proof; and even if we had it, what could we do?" He continued, "It's remotely possible, but very likely improbable. We'll bide our time and tend to our work. Justice usually works out in strange ways.

"There's another thing I wanted to bring up, for I'm guilty too. We've got to learn to control our rage and frustration." He hesitated, "Perhaps time will temper us. Pa always said haste creates stupid judgments and brings about the worst decisions."

Sketches by a Camp-Fire, Part II

Weather cool and pleasant; the mercury forty-eight degrees at sunrise. This morning we rode a few miles out of town, and met the dragoons advancing, and then escorted them to the junction of the Pembina and Red rivers where we all crossed the former stream, to the settlements beyond. We found a busy scene on going over. The houses are built around an open space, and the square courtyard (so to speak) is filled with a miscellaneous crowd of half-breeds, Indians, of all sizes, with their lodges of bark and skins together with horses, cattle, carts dogs, &c., in great variety and numbers.

The houses are built of logs, filled with mud and straw; the roofs thatched with the latter, and some covered over with bark. Around the angles of the yard are various warehouses, and icehouse, blacksmith-shop, and the trading-house, or store, which is covered completely over with large squares of bark, and looked like an entire barkhouse. In front toward the river, are barns, and stables, haystacks, &c., with numerous horses and cattle feeding, and a general appearance of thrift, comfort, and industry, pervades the scene - so new and interesting to us all, after a three-weeks' jaunt across the prairies, in which we did not meet a single human creature, not even a roaming Chippewa or Sioux.

We took possession of Mr. Kittson's house, which he had kindly placed at our disposal, and celebrated our arrival by a sumptuous dinner, in which hot corn and potatoes, onions, &c., as big as pint tin-cups, formed the principal item in the vegetable line. These were grown in the gardens here, and are the only productions of the soil now cultivated at this place, no farming whatever being done, on account of the annual floods in the valley of the Red river, for three years past - the waters have risen to the height of thirty-one and thirty-three feet above low-water mark, flooding all the country and inundating the houses at this place to the depth of two and three feet. Mr. Kittson was obliged to leave the post at this place last spring, and take up his residence for a month upon the surrounding highlands. These floods, should they continue, will prove a serious drawback to the settlement of this valley, the half-breeds being loath to put in crops when they are liable to be swept off annually.

Mr. Kittson had some six thousand rails swept off from his place last year. To obviate this difficulty, a new town and an agricultural settlement has been laid out by Mr. Kittson, and the Rev. Mr. Belcourt (the catholic priest stationed at this place), on what is called the Pembina mountain, thirty miles to the west of this place, and bordering on the river Pembina. The situation is a very eligible one, in a fine farming region; the land is excellent, and the timber abundant. The town is called "St. Joseph's," and is situated upon the eastern slope of the longitudinal ridge of land, called Mount Pembina, which is in places heavily wooded, and presents an Alleganian appearance as it is approached or skirted along toward the east.

Since our arrival, the name of "Waucheona," the Chippewa term for mountain, has been selected by Dr. Foster, and adopted by Mr. Kittson, as the name of the embryo town; he being opposed to exhausting the whole calendar of saints, and making every one of them stand as godfather to every town, lake, mountain, or stream, in the territory.

In consequence of there being no farming operations carried on here now, we found no grain on hand to feed our horses, excepting barley, and that is brought up from the Selkirk settlements, one hundred miles down Red river. Barley is a stronger feeder than oats, yet not so good as corn. It produces more than oats, say about forty bushels to the acre; and the price below ranges from fifty cents to a dollar per bushel, the former being the stard price when no extra demand takes place.

This afternoon I took a walk across "the line," two miles below, in company with the Rev. Messrs. Black and Tanner, the latter a half-breed Chippewa. About half way down, we passed the residence of the Rev. M. Belcourt, a large, two-story frame-house, situated alongside of a rude log-church, surmounted by a wooden cross.

The site is a very pleasant and commanding one, upon the high ground about half a mile back from the river, and safe from floods. Gardens, out-houses, and vehicles, were scattered around, and an air of comfort, and the rude enjoyments of a far off home, were visible. I am told that all the half-breeds here are catholics, with perhaps a few exceptions, and that Mr. Belcourt has resided among them, at the settlements below, and here, the long term of twenty-three years and upward. He is at present at the Mountain. At the line (forty-nine degrees) we found an elm-post, which was planted in the ground, upon the river bank, by Major Woods and Capt. Pope, bearing date, August 14, 1849. Just beyond is the first trading post and buildings of the Hudson's Bay Company, in this direction, a rival post of Kittson's. The buildings are built of logs and mud, one story high, and thatched with straw, are very warm and comfortable, and built around an open square. Here we found an old Scotch gentleman, named Sittare, an employee of the Bay Company, and who has charge of this place. He is a native of the Orkney Isles, and has resided in British America the still longer term of forty-eight years. A lifetime spent amid such solitudes is enough to make a man a misanthrope, and no one need wonder at it if I were to say that the old gentleman was not the most agreeable personage that I have met in this direction.

His only companions were a few half-breeds; the trading-house was closed, no trade, or business of any kind on hand, and the whole place was dull and desolate. Slept in our tent to-night, as of old; it is pitched in the court-yard, in front of the main buildings, with large fires burning around, and at each, is assembled a motley group of whites, half-breeds, and Indians; while in the distance, the dogs are howling, the braves and younger squaws are dancing promiscuously around their lodges, singing and beating drums for their amusement, and perhaps as a lullaby to us. They succeed most admirably, in making the black night as hideous as possible. Our escort of dragoons, are encamped about one fourth of a mile back upon the prairie, and their camp of snow-white tents, with the American flag flying gayly in the breeze, presents quite a pretty appearance, in contrast with the half-breed and Indian lodges, which are dotted here and there, separately, and in little hamlets of a dozen, all around as far as the eye can reach.

Saturday, 13th (September) - Cloudy, cold, raw, and windy, most of the day. The wind is keen from the northeast, and feels like that of a winter's day in milder latitudes. The mercury was down to fifty degrees at sunrise, and only rose to sixty-five degrees. Early this morning, a large Mackinaw boat started for the settlements below, in quest of barley; ourselves and escort requiring three hundred bushels. The boat was manned by eight half-breeds, six of whom were oarsmen. They will occupy two days in going down; two more in collecting the barley, and getting it thrashed, as it now stands out in the fields in shocks; five days to ascend the crooked, sluggish stream, and will bring about one hundred and sixty bushels; after which they will return for another load, and immediately on their second arrival, say about the 1st October, we will start homeward. To-day the half-breeds and Indians were served out rations; the Indians received flour and pemmican for three days' subsistence; and the half-breeds the same; with an additional allowance to each family of four pounds of sugar, and one pound of tea, they all being great lovers of that beverage. This occupied all the morning. The Indians number some five hundred, and the half-breeds, who drew rations, about fifty families. The latter are living here during their attendance on the treaty, in skin-lodges; though I am told they have comfortable log-houses, when settled permanently at home; and when not out on their semi-annual hunt. I have observed a number of their houses along the banks of Pembina and Red rivers, and understand the rest to be at the Mountain, and away out at Devil's lake, about one hundred miles to the southwest. Their occupation at present is exclusively that of hunters; and their life is naturally a free and easy, and a careless one; hunting buffalo and making pemmican and ox-carts, occupy all their time. These carts are made entirely of wood, not even an iron nail is used, wooden pins and thongs and bands of hide, being substituted. The only tools used are an axe, a hand-saw, a three-quarter, and an inch auger, with chisels of the same size. The carts are sold for thirty shillings; which is the average price, except in the hunting seasons, when in demand, they sell as high as ten dollars. A pair of wheels alone, are then worth five dollars. They are very strong, and will carry twelve hundred pounds of buffalo and pemmican.

The fall hunt comes off soon after the conclusion of the treaty. The usual tie for starting upon the summer and fall hunts, is the 10th of June and September. Nothing but pemmican and dried meat is secured on these two hunts; the robes being all taken in the winter, when the hair is long; the party returned from their summer hunt just before our arrival here. They were unsuccessful too, for once, and returned quite poor and empty-handed. They had a desperate fight, about the 20th of August, with the Yankton Sioux, who were one thousand strong, and all mounted upon horses; the affair took place away off upon the Missouri pains, upon the western slope of the Coteau des Prairies, and resulted in the victory of the half-breeds after they had been entrenched behind their carts and an earth embankment, for a day or two. I did not ascertain the number killed on either side.

Sunday, 14th - Cloudy, cold, raw, and windy; quite unpleasant and unseasonable. An over-coat is necessary out of doors, this morning, and fires in the house, for comfort; the weather, as well as other matters, serves to remind us of our northern latitude. To-day we had preaching by the Rev. John Black, in the dining-room of the governor's house; a novelty most certainly, in this far distant region. The congregation consisted of about a dozen whites, and three half-breeds. The Rev. Mr. Tanner also officiated, sang, and prayed, in English; and this afternoon, he preached in the open air, to the assembled Indians in the Chippewa language. Some of them paid close attention, sitting in a circle upon the ground; while others were listless and wandering, and others stood looking on from a distance, with the dragoons and half-breeds. The Chippewa is a beautifully sounding language, like the Italian. Mr. Tanner uses the Chippewa testament and hymns, which were translated by his father, who was for many years a prisoner among them, and wrote a book thereon. Mr. Tanner is about thirty-five years of age, and a very superior man for his class; he was born on the east side of the Red river, opposite this place (MY NOTE: where present-day St. Vincent, MN is located); was educated at Mackinaw, and has acted as a missionary among the Indians at Red lake, for the last five years. He removed to this place a week ago, and intends farming, teaching school, &c., for livelihood after the conclusion of the treaty. His wife is a half-breed, and they reside at present, in a lodge in the yard at this place. He is a fluent and earnest speaker, and discourses with great fervor and much eloquence to his red brethren, and is calculated to do good, if any can be done among them; he has been with them on their buffalo-hunts to the Missouri plains, armed like the rest; and has hunted buffalo and made pemmican all the week, and preached the gospel to them on Sundays - this being one phase of missionary life upon the prairies. He also has a half-breed brother, a real heathen as he styles him, who ranks as a chief among the Indians, and who lives among them, and accompanies them upon their hunts. This afternoon, things are dull and quiet; the Indians are strolling around, or lying idly in their lodges; the squaws are lugging huge loads of wood upon their backs, which they cut upon the river's bank, and secure by a strap passing over their shoulders and around the forehead; their bodies bending beneath the heavy load. Dozens of dirty children, half-clad in a piece of still dirtier blanket, are also playing around. The half-breeds are sitting around the fires in the yard; some lying in their lodges, and others standing at a respectful distance, listening to Mr. Tanner. Their young priest, M. Lecombe, has come down from his residence at the mission-house since vespers, and is holding a consultation with the governor. He seems to be a very intelligent, fine, young fellow; and intends accompanying us homeward to St. Paul, on his way to Montreal; where the Rev. Mr. Black came from, on his way to Selkirk settlement; thus keeping up an equilibrium in religious matters, and effecting a change between these two distant regions, in the persons of two ministers of different faiths; which is pleasant to contemplate, and which will be of great advantage to all concerned.

The Treaty

Monday, 14th - Still cold, raw, windy, and unpleasant; wind east-southeast; it looks, feels too, very much like snow, and has for several days past; the mercury was down to fifty at sunrise. At noon the Indians met, and the treaty commenced in front of the governor's house; his excellency, with Dr. Foster as secretary, and others, were sitting at a table at the front door; the principal chiefs, braves, and head men of the Red lake and Pembina bands of Chippewas, were sitting on low seats in front, while around behind them in a semi-circle stood a numerous crowd of half breeds and Indians, men, boys, squaws, and papooses, accompanied by their dogs, who, for once during our stay here, were quiet. the governor opened the council by an address of some length, which was interpreted by the Rev. Mr. Tanner and James Nolen, to them; as also their replies made in return. An old Indian, named "Clear-Weather," replied twice to the governor's remarks, in which he was quite pert and facetious as he thought, and ended by wanting a plain statement of our business there, and what we were going to do for them - what we were going to offer them, told bluntly and without any circumlocution or ornament; he wanted no "sugared words or honeyed phrases." He was not all satisfied with what had been said to them, and wanted something more definite, explicit, and to the point, and then they would go and make up their minds upon it, provided their great father would present them at least two bullocks in the meantime, as they were extremely hungry and could not deliberate on empty stomachs. The governor then told them they were women, and not the great Chippewa hunters he had thought them; that it was their duty as children to present their father with something to eat, after he had travelled such a long weary journey across the prairies purposely to meet them; but as he was now satisfied that they were squaws, and knew not how to hunt, he would go himself this afternoon and kill them some buffalo, and asked them "if they would have cows or bulls!" This little sally or bit of byplay put them in a good humor, and the council closed till ten, A.M., to-morrow. The dignitaries and potentates of this region of the earth then walked off majestically and proudly; and these stoics (?) - these men without a teat (?) - were seen no more. In plain terms they removed, in double quick time, lugging off their tobacco on their shoulders, and driving off their cattle, with loud shouts, to camp, where the rest of the day was devoted to gormandizing, and to-night we have hell let loose again among them.

Tuesday, 16th - Cloudy, cold, windy, and rainy. At daylight a rainstorm set in form the southeast, and continued nearly all day. A regular old fashioned equinoctial; mercury down to fifty-four and only rose to sixty-one degrees. No council was held that day in consequence of the storm. The Indians all invisible; all at home in their lodges, surfeiting themselves on ox meat and pemmican. Things very dull and gloomy; everywhere around the tent-fires all extinguished, and the star-spangled banner droops and hangs straight down the tall flag-staff, reared high in air above. The mud in the court-yard is as tenacious as pitch, and glues a man to the ground as soon as he steps out. We were, therefore, compelled to be sedentary; spent the day, for my own part, in reading "Major Long's Second Expedition to the Source of the St. Peter's River, Red River Valley, and Across the British Line, in 1825-'26" also prepared and packed up provisions for a canoe trip to-morrow down to Selkirk settlement, Fort Garry, &c.

Wednesday, 17th - The weather has cleared off finely, and is cool and pleasant; wind west-southwest, and the sun quite warm; the mercury sixty-one degrees at sunrise. Rose at daylight and prepared for a start down the river, in company with the Rev. John Black, in a bark canoe, with two Boise Brules (Halfbreeds, the name signifies 'burned wood') as voyageurs. Our canoe was fifteen feet long, and three feet wide, and was pretty well loaded down with ourselves, our bedding, baggage, and provisions. We started at seven, A.M., and paddled down the crooked, muddy river at the rate of some four miles an hour. stopping several hours to breakfast and dinner upon the river bank, and more frequently to haul out our leaky, frail canoe, and pitch the bottom with melted epinette, a vegetable gum used for that purpose. We saw large flocks of geese and ducks swimming among the dead willows along the banks, and could have shot large quantities, but we had not time to stop and pick them up. The ducks were all quite tame, and would approach within a few feet of our canoe, being so unused to the sight of human beings as to feel no feat. Other birds are numerous, among which I notice the eagle, hawk, crane, crow, plover, blackbird, and pigeon; also observed a fish-duck diving after fish; he was a fine large fellow, with a long bill, and a bright scarlet head; he swam toward us boldly, and thereby saved his life by his fearless confidence.

Red River is a very uninteresting stream; its waters are a liquid mud and have a very disagreeable taste, and affect the bowels of all persons unaccustomed to their use. The banks of the river are low, and extremely soft and muddy; you sink in knee-deep immediately on stepping foot on shore, where you stick and flounder about considerably before reaching the dry, hard prairie-ground above.

Along its whole course, both banks, within the margin of the stream, are covered with the thick growth of drowned-out willows before spoken of, while farther back on the prairie, fine large trees, majestic oaks and elms, are in the same condition; and now stand towering aloft like high, giant skeleton sentinels, throwing out their dry and leafless limbs across the water, as if to guard its passage. Each tree is marked at the height of some thirty feet above the water by the heavy drift-ice during the spring freshets; and the bark of all the timber to their height is of a dirty mud color, which, with the dead, drowned-out trees, presents a very disagreeable aspect. In some places the timber merely skirts the banks on both sides, and a broad expanse extends far on either hand; at others the timber extends farther than the eye can penetrate, and no prairie at all is visible for many miles, all being a desolate solitude of dead and dying skeleton trunks of leafless trees. There are some trunks in the river too forming snags; the water is very deep, current sluggish, say about one mile an hour generally, and in some places almost impreceptible, with not more than half a mile of straight chnnel at a time; for while its general course is due north it twists and turns in a very serpentine manner, to all points of the compass. The river contains no islands, and the only rapids are down below Selkirk settlement. A fine steamboat navigation will be found from there up to the junction of the Bois des Sioux, a distance of nearly four hundred miles; and one far better than that of the Mississippi above St. Anthony. We passed by the mouths of a number of small streams, viz., the Red Grass, Marias, Gratiaro, &c., which all resemble deep crooked ditches, and pour out additional quantities of thick, dark, mud-colored water, the washings of the rich and fertile prairies, now blooming with numerous flowers, through which they flow.

This is a splendid evening, the finest we have had for a long time; the sun is setting beautifully into the bosom of the far-off prairie, as it were, while all Nature is calm, still, and composed; the silence only broken by the dipping of our paddles, the occasional chirping of a bird, and the rapid rising of the scared wild fowl from out the smooth, calm surface of the water as we approach. We halted at sunset, about forty miles distant from Pembina, and have a good camp in a thick woods, where the only drawback to our comfort is the mosquitoes, which are as usual extremely annoying to us. The warm sun to-day unfortunately revived them from the torpid state in which the late cold storm had thrown them. We have our bar put up, ten-fashion, the corners being fastened to four stakes, and the raised apex or centre is secured to a bent pole, which keeps it upright and tightly stretched. Our bed consists of a robe and three blankets, with our coats and overcoats, &c., for pillows. We are upon an old camping ground, where two hundred and fifty cords of wood has been cut and piled around for the use of the settlements below this winter. The night is very clear and fine, the face of heaven is smiling amid myriads of twinkling stars; the northern horizon is lit up with the rays and dancing beams of an aurora, while the woods and silent flowing river are illuminated by our camp-fire; our voyageurs are fast aslepp upon the ground before us, and not a sound is heard, save that of the crackling, leaping flames and the low tone of our own voices as we chat merrily. And now as my companion reads a chapter in his French pocket-bible, and I pencil down these sketches of fact and fancy by the light of the burning fagots - but hark! we have company it seems and are not so lonely as I thought - that was the hoot-owl's cry; and sounds like the wailings of a fiend in misery - that was the cry, long drawn out and dismal, of a distant wolf; and now they are heard yelping and barking furiously, like a pack of hungry curs. And what was that - more unearthly than the fierce war-whoop, which almost freezes the young, warm blood, and turns the stout, athletic frame to stone? Was it a "demon-spirit or boglin damned," or the mere howling of the rising wind, the precursor of another store, I see arising in the distant horizon! Ha! I see two gleaming, fiery eyeballs in the thicket of the underbrush: "Take that, to light you to better quarters" I hurl a blazing fire-brand toward the varmint, who, with another dismal cry, leaves us to quietness, and to repose and sleep. From Sketches by a Camp-Fire
- to be continued...