In The Boyhood of Lincoln Part 23

"Is the place far away?"

"Yes, very far away by water, and a hard journey by land. Pigeon Creek is far away, near the Ohio River; south, Waubeno--far away to the south."

"Will you ever go there again?"

"Yes--I hope to go there again, and to take you along with me," said Jasper. "I have planned to go down the Illinois in the spring, in a canoe, to the Mississippi, and down the Mississippi to the Ohio, and visit Kaskaskia, and thence along the Ohio to the Wabash, and to the home where the boy lives who defended the turtles. It will be a long journey, and I expect to stop at many places, and preach and teach and form schools. I want you to go with me and guide my canoe. All these rivers are beautiful in summer. They are shaded by trees, and run through prairies of flowers. The waters are calm, and the skies are bright, and the birds sing continually. O Waubeno, this is a beautiful world to those who use it rightly--a beautiful, beautiful world!"

"Me will go," said Waubeno. "Me would see that boy. I want to see a story boy, as you say."

The attempt to establish an Indian school on the Chicago was not wholly successful. The pupils did not remain long enough to receive the intended influence. They came from encampments that were never stable.

The Indian village was there one season, and gone the next. The Indians who came in canoes to the agency soon went away again. Jasper, in the spring of 1825, resolved to carry out the journey that he had described to Waubeno, and with the first warm winds he and the Indian boy set out for Kaskaskia by the way of the Illinois to the Mississippi, and by the Mississippi to the Kaskaskia.

It was a long journey. Jasper stopped often at the Indian encampments and the new settlements. Waubeno was a faithful friend, and he came to love him for true-heartedness, sympathy, and native worth of soul. He often tried to teach him by stories, but as often as he said, "Now, Waubeno, we will talk," he would say, "Tell me the one with broken sh.e.l.l"--meaning the story. There was some meaning behind this story of the turtle with the broken sh.e.l.l that had completely won the heart of Waubeno. The boy Abraham Lincoln was his hero. Again and again, after he had listened to the simple narrative, he asked:

"Is the story boy alive?"

"Yes, Waubeno."

"And we will meet him?"

"Yes."

"That is good. I feel for him here," and he would lay his hand on his heart. "I love the story boy."

They traveled slowly. After a long journey down the Illinois, the Mississippi rolled before them in the full tides of early spring. They pa.s.sed St. Louis, and one late April evening found them before the once royal town of Kaskaskia.

The bell was ringing as they landed, the bell that had been cast in fair Roch.e.l.le, and that was the first bell to ring between the Alleghanies and the Mississippi. Most of the black-robed missionaries were gone, as had the high-born French officers, with their horses, sabers, and banner-plumes, who once sought treasure and fame in this grand town of the Mississippi Valley. The Bourbon lilies had fallen from old Fort Chartres a generation ago, and the British cross had come down, and to-day all the houses, new and old, were decked with the stars and stripes. It was not a holiday. What did it mean?

Jasper and Waubeno entered the old French town, and gazed at the brick buildings, the antique roofs, the high dormer windows, and the faded houses of by-gone priest and nun. The tavern was covered with flags, French and American, as were the grand house of William Morrison and the beautiful Edgar mansion. The house once occupied by the French commandant was wrapped in the national colors. It had been the first State House of Illinois. A hundred years before--just one hundred years--Kaskaskia Commons had received its grand name from his most Christian Majesty Louis XV, and it then seemed likely to become the capital of the French mid-continent empire in the New World. The Jesuits flocked here, zealous for the conversion of the Indian races. Here came men of rank and military glory, and Fort Chartres rose near it, grand and powerful as if to awe the world. But there was a foe in the fort of the French heart, and the boundless empire faded, and the old French town went to the American pioneer, and the fort became a ruin, like Louisburg at Cape Breton.

As Jasper and Waubeno pa.s.sed along the broad streets they noticed that the town was filled with country people, and that there were Indians among them.

One of these Indians approached Waubeno, and said:

"She--yonder--see--Mary Panisciowa--daughter of the Great Chief--Mary Panisciowa."

Waubeno followed with his eye the daughter of the Chief of the Six Nations. He went forward with the crowd and came to the house that she was making her home, and asked to meet her. Jasper had followed him.

They turned aside from the street, which was full of excited people--excited Jasper knew not why. The door of the house where Mary Panisciowa was visiting stood open, and they were asked to enter.

She looked a queen, yet she had the graces of the English and French people. She was a most accomplished woman. She spoke both English and French readily, her education having been conducted by an American agent to whom she had been commended by her father.

"This is good news," she said.

"What?" said Jasper. "Good news comes from G.o.d. Yet all events are news from heaven. The people seem greatly exercised. What has happened?"

"Lafayette, the great Lafayette--have you not heard?--the marquis--he is on his way to Kaskaskia, and that is why I am here. My father fought under him, and the general sent him a letter thanking him for his services in the American cause. It was written forty years ago. I have brought it. I hope to meet him. Would you like to see it?--a letter from the great Lafayette."

Mary Panisciowa took from her bosom a faded letter, and said:

"My father fought for the new people, and I have taken up their religion and customs. I suppose that you have done the same," she said to Waubeno.

"No; that can not be, for me."

"Why? I supposed that you were a Christian, as you travel with the Tunker."

"Mary Panisciowa knows how my father died. I am his son. I swore to be true to his name. The Tunker says that I must forswear myself to become a Christian. That I shall never do. I respect the teachings of your new religion, and I love the Tunker and shall always be true to him, but I shall be true to the memory of my father. Mary Panisciowa, think how he died, and of the men who killed him. They claimed to be Christians.

Think of that! I am not a Christian. Mary Panisciowa, there is a spot that burns in my heart. I do not dissemble. I do not deceive. But that fire will burn there till I have kept my vow, and I shall do it."

"Waubeno," said the woman, "listen to better counsels. Revenge only spreads the fires of evil. Forgiveness quenches them.--That is a n.o.ble letter," she said to Jasper.

"Yes, a n.o.ble letter, and the marquis is an apostle of human liberty, a friend of all men everywhere. What brings him here?"

"The old French and new English families. His visit is unexpected. The people can not receive him as they ought to, but he is to dine at the tavern, and there are to be two grand receptions at the great houses, one at Mr. Edgar's. I wish I could see him and show him this letter. I shall try. But they have not invited me. They are proud people, and they will not invite me; but I shall try to see him. It would be the happiest hour of my life if I could take the hand of the great Lafayette."

Mary Panisciowa was thrilled with her desire to meet General Lafayette.

Cannons boomed, drums and fifes played, and all the people hurried toward the landing. The marquis came in the steamer Natchez from St.

Louis. When Mary Panisciowa heard the old bell ringing she knew that the marquis was coming, and she hid the faded old letter in her bosom and wept. She sent a messenger to the tavern, who asked Lafayette if he would meet the daughter of Panisciowa, and receive a message from her.

Just at night she looked out of the door, and saw an officer in uniform and a party of her own people coming toward the house. The officer appeared before the door, touched his head and bowed, and said:

"Mary Panisciowa, I am told."

"My father was Panisciowa."

"He fought under General Lafayette?"

"Yes, he fought under Lafayette, and I have a letter from the general here, written to him more than forty years ago. Will you read it?"

The officer took the letter, read it, and said:

"You should meet the general."

"You are very kind, sir. I want to meet him; but how? There is to be a reception at the Morrisons, but I am not invited. The Governor is to be there. But they would not invite me."

"Come to the reception at the Morrisons. I will be responsible. The marquis will welcome you. He is a gentleman. To say that a man is a gentleman, is to cover all right conduct. Bring your letter, and he will receive you. I will speak to Governor Coles about you. You will come?"

"May my friend Waubeno come with me? I am the daughter of a chief, and he is the son of a warrior. It would be befitting that we should come together. I wish that he might see the great Lafayette."

"As you like," said the officer, hurrying away with uncovered head.

Mary Panisciowa prepared to go to the grand reception. Early in the evening she and Waubeno, followed by Jasper, came up to the Morrison mansion, where a kind of court reception was to be held.

The streets were full of people. The houses were everywhere illuminated, and people were hurrying to and fro, or listening to the music in the hall.

Lafayette was now nearly threescore and ten years of age, the beloved hero of France and America, and the leader of human liberty in all lands. He had left Havre on July 12th, 1824, and had arrived in New York on the 15th of August. He was accompanied by his son, George Was.h.i.+ngton Lafayette, and his private secretary, M. Leva.s.seur. His pa.s.sage through the country had been a triumphal procession, under continuous arches of flags, evergreens, and flowers, bearing the words, "Welcome, Lafayette."

Forty years had pa.s.sed since he was last in America. The thirteen States had become twenty-four. He had visited Joseph Bonaparte, the grave of Was.h.i.+ngton, and the battle-field of Yorktown. His reception in the South had been an outpouring of hearts. And now he had turned aside from the great Mississippi to see Kaskaskia, the romantic town of the vanished French empire of the Mississippi.