DOCUMENT NO. 14.
_Extract from "The New York Herald" for June 23d, 1861:_
THE RED SKINS.
A BORDER WAR AT LAST!
INDIAN INSURRECTION!
RED DEVILS RISING!
WOMEN AND CHILDREN SEEKING SAFETY IN THE LARGER TOWNS.
HORRIBLE HOLOCAUSTS ANTICIPATED.
BURYING THE HATCHET--IN THE WHITE MAN'S HEAD.
[SPECIAL DESPATCH TO THE NEW YORK HERALD.]
CHICAGO, June 22, 1861.
Great uneasiness exists all along the Indian frontier. Nearly all the regular troops have been withdrawn from the West for service in the South. With the return of the warm weather it seems certain that the red skins will take advantage of the opportunity thus offered, and inaugurate a bitter and vindictive fight against the whites. Rumors come from the agencies that the Indians are leaving in numbers. A feverish excitement among them has been easily to be detected. Their ponies are now in good condition, and forage can soon be had in abundance on the prairie, if it is not already. Everything points toward a sudden and startling outbreak of hostilities.
[SPECIAL DESPATCH TO THE NEW YORK HERALD.]
ST. PAUL, June 22, 1861.
The Sioux near here are all in a ferment. Experienced Indian fighters say the signs of a speedy going on the war-path are not to be mistaken.
No one can tell how soon the whole frontier may be in a bloody blaze.
The women and children are rapidly coming in from all exposed settlements. Nothing overt as yet has transpired, but that the Indians will collide very soon with the settlers is certain. All the troops have been withdrawn. In our defenceless state there is no knowing how many lives may be lost before the regiments of volunteers now organizing can take the field.
LATER.
THE WAR BEGUN.
FIRST BLOOD FOR THE INDIANS.
THE SCALPING KNIFE AND THE TOMAHAWK AT WORK AGAIN.
[SPECIAL DESPATCH TO THE NEW YORK HERALD.]
BLACK WING AGENCY, June 22, 1861.
The Indians made a sudden and unexpected attack on the town of Coyote Hill, forty miles from here, last night, and did much damage before the surprised settlers rallied and drove them off. The red skins met with heavy losses. Among the whites killed are a man named William Beaver, sometimes called Beaver Bill, and his wife. Their child, a beautiful little girl of two, was carried off by the red rascals. A party has been made up to pursue them. Owing to their taking their wounded with them, the trail is very distinct.
DOCUMENT NO. 15.
_Letter from Mrs. Edgar Saville, in San Francisco, to Mr. Edgar Saville, in Chicago:_
CAL. JARDINE'S
Monster Variety and Dramatic Combination.
ON THE ROAD.
_G.W.K. McCULLUM, Treasurer HI. SAMUELS, Stage Manager.
FNO. SHANKS, Advance_.
_No dates filled except with first-class houses.
Hall owners will please consider silence a polite negative._
SAN FRANCISCO, January 29, 1863.
MY DEAR OLD MAN!--Here we are in our second week at Frisco and you will be glad to know playing to steadily increasing biz, having signed for two weeks more, certain. I didn't like to mention it when I wrote you last, but things were very queer after we left Denver, and "Treasury"
was a mockery till we got to Bluefoot Springs, which is a mining town, where we showed in the hotel dining-room. Then there was a strike just before the curtain went up. The house was mostly miners in red shirts and very exacting.
The sinews were forthcoming very quick my dear, and after that the ghost walked quite regular.
So now everything is bright, and you wont have to worry if Chicago doesn't do the right thing by you.
I don't find this engagement half as disagreeable as I expected. Of course it aint so very nice travelling in a combination with variety talent but they keep to themselves and we regular professionals make a _happy family_ that Barnum would not be ashamed of and quite separate and comfortable.
We don't associate with any of them only with The Unique Mulligans wife, because he beats her. So when he is on a regular she sleeps with me.
And talking of liquor dear old man, if you knew how glad and proud I was to see you writing so straight and steady and beautiful in your three last letters. O, Im sure my darling if the boys thought of the little wife out on the road they wouldnt plague you so with the Enemy. Tell Harry Atkinson this from me, he has a good kind heart but he is the worst of your friends. Every night when I am dressing I think of you at Chicago, and pray you may never again go on the way you did that terrible night at Rochester.
Tell me dear, did you look handsome in Horatio?
You ought to have had Laertes instead of that duffing Merivale.
And now I have the queerest thing to tell you.
Jardine is going in for Indians and has secured six very ugly ones. I mean real Indians, not professional.
They are hostile Comanshies or something who have just laid down their arms. They had an insurrection in the first year of the War, when the troops went East, and they killed all the settlers and ranches and destroyed the canyons somewhere out in Nevada, and when they were brought here they had a wee little kid with them only four or five years old, but _so sweet._ They stole her and killed her parents and brought her up for their own in the cunningest little moccasins. She could not speak a word of English except her own name which is Nina. She has blue eyes and all her second teeth. The ladies here made a great fuss about her and sent her flowers and worsted afgans, but they did not do anything else for her and left her to us.
O dear old man you must let me have her!
You never refused me a thing yet and she is so like our Avonia Marie that my heart almost breaks when she puts her arms around my neck--_she calls me mamma already._ I want to have her with us when we get the little farm--and it must be near, that little farm of ours--we have waited for it so long--and something tells me my own old faker will make his hit soon and be great. You cant tell how I have loved it and hoped for it and how real every foot of that farm is to me. And though I can never see my own darling's face among the roses it will make me so happy to see this poor dead mothers pet get red and rosy in the country air. And till the farm comes we shall always have enough for her, without your ever having to black up again as you did for me the winter I was sick my own poor boy!
Write me yes--you will be glad when you see her. And now love and regards to Mrs. Barry and all friends. Tell the Worst of Managers that he knows where to find his leading juvenile for next season. Think how funny it would be for us to play together next year--we havent done it since '57--the third year we were married. That was my first season higher than walking--and now I'm quite an old woman--most thirty dear!
Write me soon a letter like that last one--and send a kiss to Nina--_our Nina._
Your own girl,
MARY.
P.S. He has not worried me since.
[Illustration: Nina drew this herself she says it is a horse so that you can get here soon.]
PART THIRD:
DOCUMENT NO. 16.