'Three Score Years and Ten' Life-Long Memories of Fort Snelling, Minnesota, and Other Parts of the West   By: Charlotte Ouisconsin Clark Van Cleve (1819-1907)

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"THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN,"

LIFE LONG MEMORIES

OF

FORT SNELLING, MINNESOTA ,

AND

OTHER PARTS OF THE WEST,

BY

CHARLOTTE OUISCONSIN VAN CLEVE.

1888.

COPYRIGHTED 1888.

PRINTING HOUSE

HARRISON & SMITH, 257 AND 259 FIRST AVENUE SOUTH, MINNEAPOLIS, MINN.

DEDICATION.

" To the husband of my youth, by whose side I have journeyed more than half a century, and whose tender love has brightened my whole life, this book is dedicated. "

ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA,

515 Portland Avenue .

March 14, 1888.

MY DEAR MRS. VAN CLEVE:

Whenever there is growth in any community the desire arises to know something of what was in the beginning. It was with no weariness I read in manuscript the "Reminiscences" from your pen. Each chapter contains something in connection with the dawn of civilization in the west, which is worthy of being preserved. The incidents related are stirring, and the style is graphic. When I finished the perusal I felt the force of the adage, that "Truth is Stranger than Fiction." As the diary of John Evelyn, throwing light upon the days of Charles the Second, is still read, so I think, if printed, your unaffected narrative will always find a place in the private and public libraries of Minnesota and the Western States.

Believe me ,

Sincerely ,

EDWARD D. NEILL.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. 7

II. 16

III. 24

IV. 32

V. 38

VI. A COINCIDENCE. 45

VII. ANDREW TULLY. 49

VIII. A WOLF STORY. 62

IX. RED RIVER OR SELKIRK SETTLEMENT. 68

X. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 74

XI. 80

XII. CINCINNATI. 91

XIII. NEW HOME SCHOOL DAYS. 99

XIV. FATHER'S DEATH, ETC. 105

XV. 110

XVI. 125

XVII. 131

XVIII. MALCOLM CLARK. 148

XIX. 157

XX. 161

XXI. 167

XXII. THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 173

"Three Score Years and Ten."

CHAPTER I.

One evening long ago, when this wonderful century, now in a vigorous old age, had just passed its nineteenth birthday, in a bright, cheerful sitting room in the good old city of Hartford, Conn., sat a fair young matron beside a cradle in which lay sleeping a beautiful boy a year and a half old. The gentle motion of her little slippered foot on the rocker, keeping time with the soft humming of a cradle hymn; the work basket near by; and the dainty needle work in her hand; the table tastefully spread for two, and the clear wood fire in the old fashioned fireplace, formed as restful a picture of domestic peace and content as one could wish to see.

But the expectant look in the bright blue eyes, uplifted at each sound, clearly indicated that some one was coming who should round out this little circle and make it complete.

And now the familiar footstep draws near and the husband and father enters; she rises joyfully to meet him, but seeing in his face a look of grief or pain, exclaims, "What is it, dear husband?" He holds her very close, but cannot find words to tell her that which will cross all their cherished plans of a year's quiet resting in her native city; and handing her an official document, with its ominous red seal newly broken, he watches her anxiously as she reads: