Chapter II: Part 2

Soon a door opened without noise and a little child came into the room. She looked to me like a little angel I had seen the picture of, blue eyes and golden hair. She seemed such a sweet little flower almost too frail to be alive. When she saw me she came to me, holding out her doll for me to take. I drew back, as her doll was wax and opened and shut its eyes. It was almost like the one I had at home put away in its box which had been given me at St. Helena by Cousin Mitchell. I had not got over being afraid of it yet because it moved its eyes. Mother had to come and explain to them about it. The little girl took me by the hand and led me into a large bedroom where her mamma lay among white pillows. The lady reached out her hand to me, smiling, and drew me up to her. At first I could say nothing. Then as her sister came in with the baby in her arms I said, "Me want to go home and see Charley." Mother came to explain I wanted to go home to see my little brother. The lady said, "you shall see them this evening, I shall send and have them come." Then I told her I wanted to see Bob too. She said, "Yes, Bob shall come." I was more content, and while mother held the wee baby in her arms I sat in a little chair and rocked my doll, singing to it, and when I was given my bread and milk for supper I fed my doll some, and when she choked I patted her on the back just like Aunt Abby did to Baby Margarette.

REMINDERS OF HOME FAR AWAY.

Soon the lamps were lighted and the men came in to supper. The young lady, Mr. Frankle's sister, had gotten the supper with mother's help. I remember the long table and white table cloth. The men were all seated at the table when Mr. Frankle came in the room with the little wee baby in his arms. He took the baby to the men and some of them took it in their arms and kissed it, tears rolling down their faces. Father told me later it made them think of home and their own little ones, for most of them had families in their far away homes. Mother took the baby to its mother. I was put into a high chair and sat near the head of the table, heads were bowed and Mr. Frankle asked a blessing. As soon as it was ended I said "Amen" and made the sign of the cross, just as grandpa always did. When I saw them smile I looked serious and got down, telling mother I wanted to go home. I could not eat, but fed my doll, after which mother took me in her arms and rocked me to sleep, singing one of her sweet old songs.

A LONGING FOR HOME.

Next morning I could not eat any breakfast, but kept calling for brother Charley, Bob and grandpa. Everything was so still and silent here in the big house. Oh the longing in a child's heart for the old familiar faces and home! Child that I was it seemed to me all that made life sweet had gone out of my life. I grew sick, I could not eat, and for several days lay on my little bed. Little Lilly tried to amuse me with her dolls and music box, but my heart was longing for grandpa, Charley and Bob. One morning father came and took me up and carried me into another room. There was Charley and Bob. It was a happy meeting with us all, but I felt too weak to play. At night father took Bob home and left Charley with us, but Charley, too, was not happy, he could not whittle his sticks or spin his top like he could at home. Mother, too, missed her home. Here everything was silent, and still all were very kind to us. But mother missed our noise and singing. Little Charley, too, began to droop. At night he went to look out of the window, and when he saw the lights in our windows at home across the river he began to cry, saying to mother, "I want to go home to grandpa." Next day we were both sent home, and grandpa and Bob were so happy. Lewis and Toney, too, were anxious for us all to be home again. At night we were taken again to the big house, as mother wanted us with her. We three children played to amuse ourselves, but all seemed so quiet to Charley and me. Charley was more at home now. Miss Harriet let him spin his top and whittle in the kitchen. After about two weeks mother was ready to go home and we were a happy family.

HAPPY HOME LIFE.

Life went on very happy with us children, our home was comfortable. After all the years that have passed so rapidly, methinks I can see us all as we were then around our pleasant fireside on many of those winter evenings. Little mittens had to be made for our hands. Little jackets and caps for the boys, in which all took an interest, and grandpa, too, did his share. He made little fur suits for the boys, caps and all. Father would read to us from the big family Bible and explain to us as he read. Then he would sing the hymns he loved so well, mother joining in. Then grandpa would sing with mother their French glee songs, while us children would join in. Then grandpa would rock me in the low cradle and the boys grew impatient because it kept the fur suits from being made so fast. Then old grandpa would tell us stories of his travels, and when he told us about them we forgot all about fur suits, for we loved to listen to his old French and Spanish songs and stories. He would tell us of his travels and hardships.

BOB'S SYMPATHY.

Bob seemed almost to understand, as he would always come close to us and listen, looking at us with his great, kind eyes. Many times grandpa would cry as he related some of his most sorrowful experiences, of how some of his comrades had perished from cold and hunger, or of being drowned in crossing the great rivers. Then he would cover his face with his hands as if to shut out the sight of some loved one's suffering. Old Bob would whine and lick his old master's face and hands as if trying to comfort him, then run to father and whine. Father would go over to grandpa and say, "Now don't cry any more, all that is past. You have not any more such trials to pass through. Now be happy with us." It always cheered him and soon he would be at work again. We children always sympathized with him, often shedding tears when he told his sorrowful tales and laughing with glee at some of his jolly ones. Sometimes mother would say, "I do wish you would not tell the children so many sorrowful stories. It makes them sad to hear them." Then he would say, "Me can't help it. Me sad too sometimes." The fur suits were finished and taken over to the big house for Mrs. Frankle to see them, grandpa being a great favorite with her.

INDIAN VILLAGE AND CHIEF OSSAWINAMAKEE.

The Indian village was about three miles distant back from the shore or river's mouth. There the Indians had a large settlement of about seven hundred people in all at that time. At one time their village had contained nearly three thousand. Since all tribes had been at peace many of their Braves had gone among other tribes to visit and hunt. This tribe was of the Ottawas, mixed with the Ojibewas or Chippewas. In times of war each had been a powerful nation. Most of these had lived in the Lake Superior region. After peace was declared part of the tribe wandered away to the southward seeking new hunting grounds. The present Chief's father had been a great warrior as well as his father before him. Chief Ossawinamakee (Big Thunder), was a peaceful man, ruling his people with great kindness. He was a noble looking man of fine personal appearance.

THE LAKE OF ENCHANTMENT.

The beautiful lake where the village was situated the chief's father had claimed to have found in his younger days when out on a hunting tour. The tribe claimed the lake was enchanted. Its fish and wild fowl, ducks and geese and other game were not to be disturbed by the hunters, but left for "the Indian Maiden" who strolled by its shores, and for her lover that was to come back and take her to the happy hunting grounds. The village was situated beside this beautiful lake, called by the tribe "The Lake of Enchantment," or where "The Spirit of Peace Always Lived." And, truly, when seen in its quiet and wild beauty it was not hard to believe. The legend runs that on moonlight nights the form of an Indian maiden could be seen wandering along its quiet shores waiting for her lover to come from the happy hunting grounds to meet her. In times of war among the different tribes, it was told, a beautiful Indian maiden of the Ottawas had a lover of the Huron tribe. The tribes were at war. The lover was taken prisoner and condemned to die, to burn at the stake. When the awful deed was taking place the Indian maiden was seen to take her flight southward. Braves were sent to bring her back. She forever eluded them and at last disappeared from their sight. When this lake was discovered many years afterwards it was believed the shadowy maiden seen was the same that had disappeared so long ago, and wandered beside this beautiful water waiting for her lover to join her. Wild deer came to drink of its waters, animals and fowls had no fear of the red man. It was indeed an enchanted place.

THE CHIEF'S DAUGHTER, "STAR OF THE MORNING."

The Chief's daughter was a beautiful Indian maiden. She was an only child. Her mother died when she was quite young. Her aunt, her mother's sister, had taken the place of a mother to her. The Chief, her father, was very proud of her and greatly attached to her. She was of medium height, oval face and clear olive skin with red cheeks and lips, her eyes were large and dark with nearly always a sad look in them. Her teeth were like two rows of small white pearls, small hands and feet, she was a royal princess dearly loved by the whole tribe. Her Indian name was Wa-bun-an-nung (the Morning Star.) We always called her Mary. She was gentle in her manner and could sew very nicely, being always busy with her bead work and quills, making many pretty little boxes from the birch bark and ornamenting them with bright colored porcupine quills which the Indian women colored in bright, gay colors. Her father had always taken her with him on his long trips to Canada and the Sault, also to Green Bay on many of his hunting expeditions. She could paddle her canoe as swift as any of the braves in her tribe.

THE CHIEF AND HIS DAUGHTER VISITING US.

To me Mary seemed like some bright being from another world. Her voice was soft and sweet. She always came to our home with her father, the chief. Then she would take me in her arms, calling me her little white "papoose." She would put me in my cradle, rocking and singing me to sleep with her quiet, soft voice. Many were the strings of beads and deer skin moccasins she gave me. She made me some dolls and put pretty dresses on them. She was always doing something nice for us children and was very fond of us. One day she asked little brother if he would give her little sister, meaning me, for one of her pretty pet fawns. He said, "Yes." When she started with me in her arms toward the door he screamed and cried so hard before she could make him know she was only in fun. He said, "Don't take my little sister. Go over the river to the big house and take that 'papoose' because it cries so much." When the older brothers came they said, "Why didn't you trade little sister for the fawn and two cub bears?" Mary told her father. When he came again he brought the fawn and two cubs to see if the boys would trade me away for them. As soon as the boys saw the fawn and the cubs they began to cry and beg mother not to let me go. They did not want to trade little sister off for any thing. All the time the chief remained they watched me, fearing he might take me. He was greatly amused at the joke. I was delighted to play with the fawn and the cubs were like kittens to play. The fawn was inseparable from Mary, it loved her so.

The days were longer now and the snow all gone. Grass was beginning to show in many places. The sun shone warm and bright. Mother said, "Spring is here, now don't you hear the birds sing?" Grandpa took us for little walks, but not far, as the wolves were always near almost every morning. Sometimes two or three deer would come tearing past our door, jumping into the river to save themselves from the packs of wolves chasing them, and the bears would swim across the mouth of the river. Indian hunters were always coming home from the hunt loaded with game. Their deer meat was dried and smoked for future use. The wolves would come close to our house and little brother and I would often try to call them to come and get some bread and butter, we thinking them dogs. Grandpa and Bob were always near us or we would have been eaten alive by the wolves.

THE CHIEF'S DEPARTURE.

I remember one day soon after breakfast Mary and her father came with a number of other Indians, Mary's aunt with the rest. A large canoe was packed and fitted out with all things necessary for a long voyage. The chief and Mary's aunt were going to Canada on a visit and Mary was to stay with us till her father returned. Her father took four men and Mary's aunt with him. Soon all was ready. They shook hands and away sped the bark canoe over the waves. Mary at first was sad to have her father go, but soon was cheerful again. She helped mother with her sewing and worked two pretty pairs of moccasins and made leggings and pretty garters. Some of the work was for her father. Time passed and it began to be time for the Chief's return. Mary grew restless as many storms came. She would look out over the waters for hours. Mother tried hard to comfort her and tell her all would be well. But Mary must see to believe. Her faith could not reach out very far into unseen things. Grandpa tried to comfort her. He would kneel down and pray for her father's return.

One day a young Indian came to our house to see and talk to Mary. Mother told me afterward he was Mary's lover and had promised her father not to visit Mary in his absence. Hearing how worried she was he had broken his promise. Mary seemed very sad, talked very little to him, and only when mother was present. She had also promised her father not to meet him while he was gone. The Chief had not given his full consent to their marriage. Another Chief's son had asked for Mary to be given him in marriage, which was now Mary's father's business away in Canada. She worried not so much for her father's absence as she feared her father and the Canadian chief would come to a satisfactory understanding and that she might be compelled to marry the Canadian lover whose father had much land and stock. She felt worried because her lover had broken his word to her father and she feared his displeasure. Indians are very strict about their laws and customs.

RETURN OF THE CHIEF OSSAWINAMAKEE.

One day soon after this I saw the Chief coming up the path to the house. He was not alone. Mary was lying in the swinging hammock. She gave a bound like a deer and reached the door just as her father came in. She threw her arms about his neck and fainted away. Mother put water on her face. She soon opened her eyes and smiled at her father. He took her hand and talked long to her. She looked past him and saw the strange young Indian standing beside the door. She gave a cry and put her hands to her face. Her father called him to come to them, speaking to them both. At last Mary gave him her hand and spoke the Indian greeting, "Bou shou" (how do you do.) In turn we all greeted him with the same term. The Chief talked a long time to Mary and mother, telling about his trip. Father came home to supper.

The Chief had brought a large pack of beautiful silks, beads, scarfs and cloth for Mary to make some new gowns. He also brought some pretty shells from Lake Simcoe for mother, which she prized very highly as her mother was born there, and many more goods of furs and rugs. The young Indian also brought some furs and rugs, one handsome white one with black spots upon it which he laid down at Mary's feet. She did not seem to be very well pleased with the present, but her father was loud in his praise and thanks. At last Mary thanked him in a low voice. As it was growing dark the Chief and the young Indian left for the village, Mary remaining with us for the night. Brother Charley and I lay down on the white rug with Bob beside us and were soon fast asleep.

Oh childhood's happy hours,
Would that they could come again!
If only we might taste their joys once more
Our hearts would sing a glad refrain.

INVITED TO THE FEAST.

Next morning the Chief came to take his daughter home, thanking mother for taking care of her during his absence. We were all invited to attend the great feast with the other Chemokamon's (white men) from the other side of the river. It had been told to the tribe that morning of the coming marriage of the Chief's daughter to the Canadian Chief's son, who had much land and stock to give his bride. When he talked with mother about it she asked him about the other young man and if he had not promised Mary to him. He answered, "We come of a proud and haughty race. This young man has much land and riches while the other has nothing to give my daughter. No lands, no moneys." Mother said to him, "You will miss Mary from your wigwam." At this he softened, then saying, "I have power to extend the time of Mary's marriage."

On the day of the feast the sun shone clear and bright. Our boys were up early and all seemed to be in a hurry. Grandpa had made a little cart for Bob to draw me in, so Bob's harness was all trimmed with gay colored ribbons. Mother put on my little red dress and pretty beaded moccasins which Mary had made for me. Then I was put into the cart and old Bob trotted off so proudly, thinking perhaps of his younger days when he had brought the great loads of furs from the Lake Superior trapping grounds to the Sault and Mackinac Islands to be sold to the traders there. Those were proud days for the voyagers when all the village came out to meet them from their long trips. After crossing the river we were joined by the people on that side, who were a happy lot. This was a holiday for them all. An Indian feast which none had ever before attended. Something to write about to their far away homes. All went along singing. Old grandpa singing his French and Spanish glee songs with the boys joining, which made the woods ring. We soon came to the lake, and the village of many wigwams was close beside the water.

THE BEAUTIFUL LAKE AT THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

On that morning the lake was like a great mirror or a sea of glass, not a ripple stirred its surface and the beautiful trees were reflected on every side, hanging branches everywhere full of song birds, and swimming about near the shore were broods of ducks with their little ones among them. None seemed to be afraid of us. There were many young fawns wandering about and drinking from the lake. Mossy banks and many flowers. No one was allowed to harm the birds, fawns or ducks. The place seemed rightly named "The Lake of Enchantment." I remember being carried into a wigwam and laid on a bed of skins and furs. I was so sleepy after my ride. When I awoke I found myself alone and being frightened began to cry. Very soon Bob came bounding in. I took him by the collar and when we were out of doors I saw a lot of Indian children with brother Lewis and Toney running and jumping with them. I saw mother and grandpa, with little brother, going into a large wigwam. I ran over to them. In the middle of this lodge was a great fire with many kettles hanging in which the dinner was being cooked for the feast. The lodge had been made on purpose for the (chemokamon) white man's cooking to be done. Grandpa and mother had full charge of this part. Father soon came and took little brother and me where many young Indians and the white men were playing a game of ball. There were many squaws and children all gaily dressed with many colored ribbons. Dogs were running about everywhere, and young pet cub bears which the children seemed to be taking care of. The squaws had been to our house and knew us children. They came to us, giving us little cakes of maple sugar.

THE INDIAN MAIDEN IN HER WIGWAM.

After a time little brother and I wanted to see Mary, so father took us to her wigwam, which was covered with black bear skins. There we found Mrs. Frankle with her sister and the children. Mary was sitting on a bear skin rug with her hands folded and her eyes almost shut. I wish I could describe her as she looked sitting there in her dark beauty. I could not take my eyes off her. She raised her eyes and looked at me as if to know what I wanted or what did I see. Then she smiled and sprang to her feet, coming towards me. I backed away and gave a great sob just as I have felt since when looking at some beautiful picture. It seemed to thrill me through and through. She seemed almost to know my thoughts. She seemed almost afraid to move. At last she took me in her arms and, sitting down near Mrs. Frankle, the great tears rolled down her face. Mrs. Frankle put her face near Mary's and kissed her. Then the great sobs came. The Indian maiden may sob but never cry aloud like her white skinned sisters. I wondered why Mary should sob and the tears fall on my face when she was so beautiful and had such beautiful clothes. I felt of her dress and arms, passing my hands over her face, which made her smile. She then gave us some pretty shells to play with. Soon Mary's father came to see if she were ready to appear before the crowd. When his eyes rested on her a pleased look came over his face. He seemed to be satisfied, for he gave a shrug, saying "ugh ni-chi-chin" (good), meaning he was satisfied with her appearance. Little Charley and I had found the pretty leggings and moccasins Mary had made for her father and lover and ran to the Chief with them, holding them up for him to see, telling him Mary made them. He took them in his hand and smiled. He seemed pleased, but Mary came as if to take them. He kept them in his hand, talking long and earnestly to her. She stood with her head bowed and sad. He showed Miss Harriet and Mrs. Frankle the pretty work, which they admired, but Mary seemed so sad they wondered.

THE SOUNDING OF THE DRUM.

We now heard a big drum and the barking of dogs. Then all the men with Mr. Frankle came and the Chief took Mary's hand. Father took me in his arms and we all went out where there were a great many Indians standing in a large circle. The Chief and his daughter went into the circle and all the white people followed. There were great skins of bear and other furs spread about for the chemokamon (white man) to sit upon, but all the Indians must stand while the Chief made his speech and gave the announcement of his daughter's marriage with the Canadian Chief's son, who was now his guest.

CHIEF OSSAWINAMAKEE'S SPEECH.

The chief walked into the circle with a proud and haughty tread, waving his hand for all to be silent. I knew nothing of what he said, but my father told me when I was old enough to understand. I remember his form. He was tall and stately, with a fine appearance, and was dressed as became the chief of the proud Ottawa tribe. Many silver ornaments were on his breast. He talked a long time, while all listened in stately silence.

After a time he was silent and two more forms appeared within the circle. The first to enter was the Canadian Indian. His step was firm, his head high, his look bold; he was dressed in bright red, with beaded leggings and many feathers around his head. The other one came in with a soft and silent step. His form was slight and willowy. He was dressed in a deer skin suit, with beaded leggings, silver ornaments on his breast, and a band about his head filled with eagle feathers. He came close to the Chief, his eyes were looking down, his face seemed sad. He was Mary's true lover, the son of a chief of the Chippewas, whose father had died, leaving him in the care of Mary's father. His father had been a great warrior and owned much land, but had lost it all in long wars with other nations. The name of this young chief was Sha-wan-nib-in-asse (southern bird). Mary and he had been raised together with the understanding they would be joined in marriage sometime, but in one of the chief's trips to Canada with his young daughter, the chief of a tribe there had asked for Mary for his son. Being rich, Chief Ossawinamakee thought it best to give his daughter to the rich chiefs son. Very soon the chief presented the Canadian Indian with a pair of leggings and moccasins, saying they were a present from his daughter. The young Indian expressed his thanks with many bows casting many looks of triumph at Mary's lover. When Mary saw these presents given she almost gave a scream. She stepped forward as if to take them from his hands.

ALL ENJOYMENT.

As soon as the speeches were ended all sat in circles. The Chief's circle was filled with his own family, his sisters and their families and his Canadian guest. The Chemokamons were by themselves. The Indians with their squaws and children had corn soup served with dried venison and fish. The soup was put in large pans with only one large wooden spoon or ladle. When one took a spoonful it was passed to the next and so on around the circle of about twelve or fifteen persons. The white people also had corn soup or maize, as it was called, corn pounded in a wooden mortar, with dried smoked venison and broiled white fish, baked potatoes and many other things which mother had prepared herself. There was much talking and laughing among the Indians as well as white people. The dogs ran round the outside of the circle and every time the drum was beaten they would yelp and bark while Bob would howl. The fawns and deer came near to us as if enjoying the sport, while the little cub bears scampered away to a cute little wigwam where they slept at night. All was mirth and gaiety. When the eating was over the Chief arose, raised his head high, giving thanks to the Great Spirit, and buried a small piece of silver to entreat good crops and full hunting grounds for that year. There was jumping and canoe paddling among the Indians, which ended the day's sport. There had been a white dog killed, as was the custom at their feasts. We saw the pelt stretched up to dry. Father told me many times that all went home at sunset much pleased with their day of pleasure and sport. The white people were delighted with Indian feasts and declared that no _White Dog_ had been served to them in _their Corn Soup_, knowing my mother had charge of their cooking.

ENDING OF THE FEAST AND SAD ENDING OF A YOUNG LIFE.

Early next morning all was excitement at the Indian Village, for Mary's lover, Sha-wan-nib-in-asse, was dead. All suspicion pointed to the Canadian Indian poisoning him through jealousy. The Indian women told my mother at the feast that all the week they had feared the two young men would fight, as they hated each other with a deadly hatred. Now the whole village was ready to kill the Canadian Indian, as none had ever liked him for the reason that he was British. The old hatred had not died out from their hearts, even though peace had been declared so long among the tribes. The Canadian Indian hurried from the Village and stopped at our house on his way down the shore, where he soon reached a small trading vessel and made his way home to Canada. Mary was very sorrowful with grief at the death of her lover, and her father was sure the Great Spirit was displeased with him for favoring the Canadian Indian. We were all afraid it might cause a war, as all the Indians at the Village wanted their Chief to go to Canada and get satisfaction from the father in Canada. The white people advised the Chief Ossawinamakee not to go to war, as his whole tribe would be killed, having no warriors to be a match for the Canadian Indians. The tribe had lived in peace so long war was only history to them. The Chief took the advice.

BURIAL OF SHA-WAN-NIB-IN-ASSE.

They buried the young lover with great honor, buried him with the sound of the muffled drum. Father made the casket and mother was there to help them. They dressed him in the pretty leggings and moccasins Mary had made for him, putting the other pair with bows and arrows, silver breastplates, with a small kettle and wooden ladle and gun, into the casket as was their custom when burying their dead. They buried him beside the peaceful little lake where the branches of the trees were filled with singing birds. Though a child of the forest he had loved Mary with a pure and holy love.

ON BOARD THE ELIZA CAROLINE.

My father had now finished his contract with Mr. Frankle at the mill. Hearing that there were many people settling on "Beaver Island," several families that we knew from York State, Ohio and Canada, he made up his mind to go there. Our goods were put on board the staunch little ship "Eliza Caroline," the vessel my father had built the year before. The Chief and his daughter Mary came to say good-by. Good-bys were said to our good neighbors across the river in the big house. We had all become very dear friends to each other. There were many kind wishes and God-speeds for us when the Captain said "all aboard." White sails were set and we glided from the river out onto Lake Michigan just as the sun was sinking in the west. Darkness soon shut out the forms of our friends that stood waving to us from the shore. We knew we were once more out on the water on God's great rolling cradle of the sea. We children, with mother and grandpa, said our prayers in the little cabin and were soon fast asleep with the sound of the rippling waves singing to us a sweet lullaby of peace and rest.

_PART II._

BEAVER ISLAND.

Beaver Island was once the home of the Mormons. This island is the largest in the group of islands in lake Michigan, containing about fifteen thousand acres of land.

To many who may read these pages it may seem like a fairy tale to know that a kingdom ever existed within the borders of the United States. A kingdom has existed, and that little kingdom was on Beaver Island, now commonly known as St. James, being named in honor of him who made himself a king. James Jesse Strang was born and educated in New York State, graduated from the Fredonia Academy of the same state. He studied law and was classed among the brilliant lawyers of his day. In his eight years rule on Beaver Island he was twice elected to the State Legislature of Michigan. His speeches were considered among the most brilliant delivered in the halls of Lansing, the State Capitol. He spoke with ease, his manner was winning, he aimed to be a leader. Strang was living at Voree, Wis., at the time of Joseph Smith's death at Nauvoo, Ill. Having joined the Mormon Church he now claimed to have "Divine Revelations" from God that he was chosen to fill Joseph Smith's place to lead the people left without a leader. After a hard struggle which he made for the leadership, Brigham Young was chosen as Smith's successor.

BEAVER ISLAND CHOSEN AS A KINGDOM.

Strang felt his defeat very keenly and withdrew with a few of his followers who had entire belief in his revelations. He now went to Kirtland, Ohio, where a Mormon temple had been built as a place of worship for the Latter Day Saints, as they are now commonly known. Strang soon became restless. Brigham Young had already gone with a large number of Smith's followers to Salt Lake City, Utah. Strang wanted more territory, more privileges, which he knew he could not have in Kirtland, so he began to look about for a place where he could establish a kingdom over which he could rule with undisputed sway. Being a lawyer and understanding the law so perfectly he knew he could not carry out his plans unless he found some secluded place where the law of the land could not easily reach him, and where could he find a place better suited to carry out his plans than Beaver Island? In 1846, two years prior to Strang's coming to Beaver Island to establish his kingdom he was on his way west to Wisconsin. The steamer he took passage on was driven into Beaver Harbor to seek shelter from a storm. When Strang was telling all this to my father he said, "When my eyes first rested on Beaver Island I thought it the most beautiful place on earth."

At the time Strang was there, a Mr. Alva Cable from Fairport, Ohio, had located at the Point and was establishing a business. He had built a dock, a store and a fine large dwelling and was already buying fish from the fishermen and shipping them to outside markets.

STRANG'S FIRST COMING TO THE ISLAND WITH HIS PEOPLE.

Strang had already settled in his mind to locate at Cheboygan, Mich., having looked over the location. Mackinac Island being just near enough for him to get their supplies. At that time Mackinac Island was the largest fish market in northern Michigan, furnishing supplies to the whole north shore and fishermen among the great number of islands, its several stores furnishing everything necessary to the people around and being in close touch with the outside world, having a postoffice and mails coming there from Detroit.

But when Strang saw Beaver Island, its beautiful harbor, fine timber and natural beauty of scenery, the thought came to him like an inspiration, and he said, "This is where I will come to build up my kingdom." And when he saw all the improvements being done he had no doubt but he could soon have all the people about the shore as his followers. But there was much to hinder before he could persuade many of his followers to come and locate on a lonely island, as it seemed to them, in the middle of Lake Michigan. Also Strang's wife was not a believer in the Mormon doctrine, having no faith in the revelations he claimed to have: but Strang had a great command of language and possessed a strong will power. He at last persuaded a few of his followers to come with him to Beaver Island, where they landed from a steamer in the early part of June, 1848, two years after he had first seen the island. About twenty-five people came with him, and before navigation closed over a hundred more had landed, most of them being all unprepared for a long, cold winter on an island where the snows were extremely deep in winter.

PAYMENT TIME FOR THE INDIANS.

The whole surrounding country at that time was a wilderness. White settlers were few in number. There were many different tribes of Indians wandering about from place to place on their hunting and fishing tours. They were all peaceably inclined, many remained long enough to plant small gardens near the shores, but never clearing the land at any distance back from the shore. The woods were filled with abundance of game to satisfy all their wants and needs. The red men of the forest were best satisfied in their own native wilds. They were nature's children. The trees, flowers, buds, leaves and waves on the shore all whispered their mystery of the great and good Spirit that ruled all things. In those days the Indians were receiving payments from the government. An agent was employed with a clerk to make these annual payments. Sometimes the money would be paid out at Sault Ste. Marie, sometimes Green Bay was the place of gathering, other times Mackinac Island. Then the tribes would gather from far and near, bringing their whole families to receive their money. That was a happy time for the red man and his family to know the "Great Father" at Washington was such a friend. Payment time, as it was called, also made trade for the white man.

THE INDIANS AND THEIR ISLANDS.

There was a large band of Indians living on Garden Island, three miles distant north from Beaver Island. This island had been deeded to them by the government as their own. Also another island about six miles west of Beaver Island, called High Island. Both these Islands were fertile, covered with heavy timber, and both afforded good fishing opportunities with good harbors at each island. Strang's people never having seen Indians before were naturally very timid, especially when the Indians gathered at Beaver Harbor to sell their fish and being friendly often called at the Chemokamon's house. The Indian being of an inquisitive nature, wanted to see how the white brothers lived in their homes. Strang himself said he felt none too sure of his own life when he saw so many coming to his home, but the Indians and their squaws with their papooses on their backs, that being the fashion of carrying their young children, were always smiling and good natured, which very soon reassured Strang and his people that they were friendly and meant them no harm. At first the Mormons always kept their doors locked and barred. Strang soon preached to them to leave their doors open to their Indian friends, which they did with the faith that their King knew best.

STRANG CALLING ON US.

About the time my people came to Beaver Island the property at the Point in Beaver Harbor was just changing hands, Mr. Alva Cable having sold his dock and buildings to a Mr. Peter McKinley from Painesville, Ohio, who came with his family and took possession at once, putting in a supply of provisions for the fall trade with the fishermen.

Strang soon called on our people, and was anxious to have my father build our home near the Mormon settlement at the harbor, promising there would be plenty of work, as more of his people were constantly coming. Strang was so friendly and sent many of his people to call on us. His wife also called on us. She was a bright, sensible, noble woman, and we found her friendship was true. My mother being a nurse, Strang told her he would always be glad of her assistance when any of his people were sick. Our people had never heard about Mormons before and knew nothing about their belief or doctrine. Mother told me many times afterward it seemed very strange to her seeing the Mormon women dressed in short dresses with hair cut short and keeping Saturday for their Sunday. When mother spoke to them about it they told her that King Strang had all these revelations from God and that, he being their leader, they must obey what he said.

FIRST SETTLERS.

Our house was soon finished. Father had built it near to a Gentile family, an elderly couple from Toronto, Canada. They had bought a small piece of land from the government, making themselves a home the year previous to the coming of the Mormons. They were an Irish family with considerable means. They first came to Mackinac Island to visit a nephew, Mr. P. Kilty. They took a little trip to Beaver Island with others, and were so pleased with it, thinking it would soon be settled and make a desirable place to live. Their name was Loaney, and the place where they located has always borne the name of Loaney's Point. It was on the south side of Beaver Harbor, distant about two miles from the village. On the end of Loaney's Point rests a large boulder which has always been a land mark, sometimes looming up looking like a great black steamer near the shore. Mr. Loaney's nephew, P. Kilty, also located at the Island and was driven away with the rest of the Gentiles, returning again after the Mormons were sent away from the Island, residing many years there and being a successful fisherman and farmer. His son, Mr. Peter Kilty, is now, and has been for several years, a captain on one of the large steamboats on lake Michigan. The old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Loaney, had some sad experience with their Mormon neighbors, losing their home and all they had by their persecutions. After the Mormons were driven off the Island Mr. Loaney returned and was appointed keeper of the Beaver Island lighthouse at the head of the Island, holding the position several years, he being the second keeper having charge of that station, a Mr. Van Allen being the first keeper when the light was first erected.

PREPARING FOR WINTER.

The winter of 1849 was an extremely cold winter, with heavy ice and deep snows. Our summer boarders had all packed and gone to their homes. Father had brought our provisions home and packed it away for winter use. Many of our Mormon neighbors with their children came often to see us, and we children played with them. Mr. Loaney had some cows and Auntie Loaney was always bringing us milk as well as to her Mormon neighbors. Our boys and father and mother were very busy making a large fishing seine for a man in Ohio who was coming the next spring.

GOING OVER TO THE POINT TO DINNER WITH THE MCKINLEYS.

Before the ice came in the fall father took us all in our boat across to the Point so mother could do some shopping. Mr. McKinley was a very kind and pleasant man and would have us go to his house for dinner. He wanted us to get acquainted with his family. Father took us over to their nice, large and comfortable home. Mrs. McKinley was very kind and seemed pleased to see us. She was a pretty, bright-faced woman, slender, with dark hair and eyes. She had three little girls, Sarah the eldest, Effie and Mary. We children were soon acquainted, playing with the dolls and having tea with the children's little dishes. Mr. McKinley had a sister living with him whom the children called "Aunt Ann." She was very kind to us, giving us many slices of bread and butter with cups of milk.

I remember the children had such beautiful hair, which I admired so much. Mother helped to set the table and get the dinner on the table, as they boarded several of their help. Our boys were out exploring the Point with some Mormon boys. When we were ready to go home Mrs. McKinley filled a great basket with large red apples for us to take home. Father thanked her, saying he ought not to take them, as he had two barrels at the store for winter use. She said, "Do take these apples, they came from home in Ohio and are better than the apples at the store. Now I want you to have them." We children played together until the last moment. The little girls gave me large packages of candy. Kissing them I promised to come again sometime. Mrs. McKinley was very kind, wanting us all to come again. Father told me afterward when I was older how lonely she was, missing her Ohio home so much. She asked father what he thought about our Mormon neighbors. He said he knew very little about them, so far they had been very kind and pleasant. She told him her fears, saying. "I have no faith in Strang at all. I fear he is misleading those people and I am afraid they will cause us all lots of trouble before long, but my husband thinks they are a well-meaning people. We have invested considerable money, which I feel quite sure we shall regret." Father tried to encourage her to feel more hopeful, but she said she could not feel they were true. She liked Mrs. Strang, as everybody did who knew her.

Soon after this the cold snows of winter were upon us, ice made very fast. We heard no more the whistle of the boats, and saw no more the white sails of the vessels and fish boats that sailed in and out of the pretty harbor. I was young, yet I remembered and missed all these things.

KIND NEIGHBORS.

I was never tired going over to see Uncle and Auntie Loaney, as they taught us children to call them. They were a dear old couple and loved us the same as if we were their own. I remember the pretty large cat with the little white kittens. When she gave me bread and milk I would sit on her clean white floor, and it was hard to know which ate most of that bread and milk, myself or the cats. I used to take my dolls over and stay days at a time with Auntie, and when mother came after me she would say, "Oh don't take her away home. Sure you have four and I have none at all, at all. Now you must leave me one." Then little brother Charley would go and stay a while with them until he got lonely for the rest of us. In that way we took turns being with our kind, good neighbors all the time we lived near them. Some of us were always with them. They had a son married and doing business in Toronto. The next year he came to visit them for a month. Then how pleased she was to tell Michael how good we little children were to her. We children all loved them dearly.

Winter was advancing. There was much sickness among the Mormon people. Food was scarce with no means to buy, and clothing thin for a northern winter. Mother was called away from home to care for them, and we children were often left at home with grandpa and father. Auntie and Uncle Loaney were always coming to see how we were. I staid with them most of the time, getting lonesome often for Charley and Bob. Poor old Bob was more feeble than ever now, the cold winter bringing on rheumatism.

BOB'S NEW FRIEND.

I remember one day Uncle Loaney coming in and saying to father, "Sure Mr. Whitney, why don't you kill that old dog? He is good for nothing and can't stand up any more." That was enough, little brother and I began to cry and then poor old grandpa, the tears rolled down his cheeks, and when he could speak he said in his broken English, "Oh don't keel Bob, you keel Bob me die too. Me and Bob good friends good many year. Oh no keel Bob." Then father explained what a long time Bob had lived and been with grandpa and how he had saved brother Toney's life the winter before. Then how sorry Uncle Loaney was, saying. "Yes let poor Bob live as long as he can." After that many were the little pails of milk sent to Bob.

SUFFERING OF THE PEOPLE.

I remember a man came to our house one morning and two little boys were with him. Father had gone with Toney and Lewis out to chop wood a short distance from the house. The man came in with the children and asked to see father. Grandpa was so afraid to be alone with the Mormon he said, "Me no want you keel me. Me give you everything in the house you no keel me." The man said, "No, I don't want to hurt you. My children are hungry." Charley ran out to tell father to come, then the man explained how hungry his family were, having no bread and no money to buy. Father gave them something to eat, and soon the children were sitting with Charley and me eating bread and butter. Father gave flour and other things for the man to carry home.

CARING FOR THE SICK AND DYING.

Mother soon came home, telling of the want and suffering among the people. The King had gone from the Island on the last boat, leaving them to fare as best they could. They had come to the Island too late to plant anything that season and none of them knew how to fish or help themselves. They suffered cold, hunger and death that winter without complaint of their King. Their whole cry was "Oh, if our King were only here." There was some one every day to our house and Aunt Loaney's. The Mormons were in a starving condition. Father gave to them until he feared we should be left with nothing. Grandpa was afraid we children would be left hungry, so he buried many things for us. Mother and Auntie were always busy cooking and carrying food to the sick and dying. Mrs. McKinley was just as busy at the Point helping the suffering people all she could. There were several deaths in the winter and spring. After awhile father, grandpa and the boys put some nets through the ice, catching many fish for the hungry people. Our boys set hooks, showing the Mormon boys how to catch the fish to keep themselves from starving. Father and mother were so much among them they began to learn something about their strange belief, which was peculiar, their faith being all placed on their leader, "King James," as they often called Strang, always calling upon him to help them in their trouble. Mother said to them, "Why do you call upon man to help you? Why don't you call upon God and pray to him for help?" They would not listen, saying, "Has not our King the revelations revealed to him?"

RETURN OF SPRING AND COMING OF STRANG.