You, Charless and Louis, often say to me, Grandma, tell me about
when you were a little girl, and many a little story have I told you.
But now I am going to tell you about Grandpa, when he was a little
boy.
That dear, good grandpa, who looked young to grandma, but who
looked so old to you, with his pretty, glossy grey hair, was once a
little boy, just like you are. He had a dear mamma, too, who tenderly
loved him, but she used to punish him when he was naughty, and kiss him
when he was good, just as your mamma does to you. He was a very
obstinate little fellow, though, and generally submitted to a good deal
of punishment before he would confess his fault and beg for
forgiveness. His mamma would sometimes tie him to the bed-post, but he
would pull against the string until his arm would almost bleed, and
frequently he would free himself by gnawing the cord in two. But he
was a good-humored little boy for all that, and mischievous as a house
pig, his mother used to say. Once she locked him up, for some naughty
trick, in a room where there were a number of nice fresh made cheeses,
arranged around for the purpose of drying, and said to him, Stay
there, Joe, until you mean to be good, and then I will let you out.
He very soon knocked at the door, calling out, Mamma, mamma, Ill be
good now, and his mamma thought my little son is conquered very soon
this time; he is certainly improving. She opened the door, but what,
do you suppose, was her dismay, when she found that the little rogue
had bit a mouthful out of every cheese!
When he was a small child he strayed off from the house, away
down to the spring, and, stooping down to see the pretty clear water,
fell in, and came near being drowned. Oh, how his poor mother did cry,
when her sweet little boy was brought to her so pale, and almost
lifeless. But she rubbed him and warmed him until he came to, and was
as well as ever; and his mamma thought surely such an accident will
never again happen to my dear little son. But when he grew to be a
larger boy, some time after his parents had removed from Kentucky to
St. Louis, he went one day with some boys to have a swimming match in
the Mississippi river. Most boys like to swim or wade in the water,
and sometimes are so eager for the sport that they forget, or give no
heed to the expressed commands of their parents; and many a boy has
lost his life by breaking the fifth commandment, which says, Honor thy
father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the
Lord thy God giveth thee. Many a boy who, had he lived, might have
become a good and noble-hearted man, doing much good in the world, has
thus early been summoned suddenly and unprepared before the judgment
bar of God, simply for having forgotten, in a moment of pleasurable
excitement, to honor his parents by a strict obedience to their
commands. But, thanks to our Heavenly Father, this was not the case
with little Joseph Charless, for, although he was drawn by the current
of the terrible Mississippi into a whirling eddy, he was saved from
such a dreadful doom. A good, brave boy, who was larger than he, and a
better swimmer, rushed into the whirl and pulled him out to the shore.
Poor little fellow! he was almost gone, for he was insensible, and it
was some time before he breathed freely again. He was carried home-to
that dear home which came so near being made desolate-and with
deep penitence did he confess his fault and beg for pardon. His last
thoughts when he was drowning (as he thought) were, I have disobeyed
my mother! It will break my poor mothers heart!
Children have a great deal of curiosity, and perhaps you will
ask, how did grandma know so much about grandpa when he was a little
boy? Was she a little girl then, and did she live in St. Louis, too?
No, my children, when my parents moved to St. Louis I was a young lady
and grandpa was a young gentleman. We soon became acquainted, however,
and after awhile we were married, and then I took a strange fancy to
learn all about him from the time he was a little baby in his mothers
arms; and when I ventured to ask his mother a few questions about him,
I found it pleased her so much that I was encouraged to ask many more.
And now it seems to me I have known grandpa always, and was with him
when he used to go with his mamma and little brothers and sisters into
the country, with a company of the neighbors, all in little French
carts, to gather strawberries and blackberries, which grew in abundance
in Lucas Place, Chouteau avenue, and all about, where now are elegant
mansions and paved streets. It was then a prairie, with clumps of
trees here and there, springs of water and sweet wild flowers.
He told me himself about his frolics with the French boys (many
of whom were his earliest and truest friends), how they used to have
match-eating pancake parties, in the day of the pancake festival in the
Catholic Church; and about his youthful gallantries, and how
desperately in love he was once with a very smart, pretty creole girl,
and how the discovery of a hole in her stocking drove the little god
of love from his breast.
But these anecdotes and incidents were, perhaps, more interesting
to his wife than they will be to you. Well, then, I will tell you an
Indian story, for I have never known a boy yet that did not like to
hear about the Indians. You know the poor things are now nearly
exterminated from the face of the earth. In the early history of St.
Louis, I find that they lived not far off, having pitched their wigwams
only a little farther to the west, for the white man, in intruding upon
their hunting grounds, had driven them, with the elk, the deer and the
buffalo, still farther from the Atlantic coast, which they once claimed
as their own rightful property. These poor savages, however, would
often come into the town to see the white-faced children of the Great
Spirit; to buy their beads and other fine things to dress up in; and
that they might show them how fierce they looked, their faces streaked
with every variety of paint, and their hair all shaved off excepting a
little bunch on the top of their heads which they reserved as a
fastening for their feathers and other head ornaments, of which they
were very fond. But, I dare say, if you have never seen Indians, you
have seen their pictures. It was real sport for the boys to see them
dance, and listen to their wild songs and savage yells.
But to my story. There was an old Indian who was a great thief.
He was seen alone, generally, prowling about the town, peeping through
the fences into the yards, watching out for chickens, or anything he
could shoot with his arrow, or slip under his blanket. Little Joseph
Charless had watched this famous old Indian thief, and determined to
punish him for his wickedness. To accomplish this purpose, he armed
himself with plenty of dried squashes, which he kept in the garret of
his fathers house, near to the gable window, that fronted on the
street. He watched his opportunity, and one day, as the Indian passed
by, he threw a squash down upon the old fellows head. Soon after he
peeped out to see if it had struck him, when whiz went the arrow, just
grazing his face and sticking tight and firm into the window beam above
his head! This fright cured him of playing tricks upon travelers, at
least for awhile.
You see now, my dear children, from what I have told you, that
grandpa was just such a boy as you are-fond of fun and frolic, and
of playing tricks.
I have said nothing of his love of school and books. But I think
he was about as fond of both as boys usually are. When a little boy he
was sent to the village school, and after he became large enough to
work, he was put to work in his fathers printing office. By the time
he became a pretty good printer, a school of a higher grade than any
St. Louis had yet afforded was opened in the country, and his father
gladly availed himself of this opportunity to continue the education of
his son. He was a pupil in this school for some time, after which he
commenced the study of the law, agreeably to his fathers wishes, under
the supervision of Francis Spalding, who was at that time an eminent
lawyer in St. Louis. After having read law awhile, he was sent to
complete his legal education at the Transylvania University, Kentucky.
While in the printing office he and another boy received a
terrible flogging one day for laughing at a poor, unfortunate man, who
had a very bad impediment in his speech, which being accompanied, with
ludicrous gestures and grimaces, was more than their youthful
risibility could withstand. They made a manly, but vain attempt to
suppress a roar of laughter, which only gathered strength from being
dammed up, and at last burst over all bounds. I never could forgive
his father for whipping the poor boys so severely for what they could
not avoid. He was too just and generous a man, however, to have been
so unmerciful, if his better feelings and his better judgment had not
been warped by a burst of passion.
The following is from the pen of his old friend and playmate, Mr.
N. P., of St. Louis:
You ask me to state what I know of the early character of your
late husband. This I proceed to do. In his boyhood there were not the
same temptations in St. Louis to irregularity of habits and vice that
assail the young men of the present day. I do not think I err when I
say that Joseph Charless was a good boy-kind, tractable, obedient to
his parents, and giving them no further solicitude than such as every
parent may well feel when watching the progress of a son to manhood.
He had no bad habits. As a boy, there was nothing dishonorable about
him, and he had quite as few frailties, or weaknesses, as attach to any
of us. In the sports and amusements of that day he stood well with his
fellows, and was well received in ever society. Of course, from what I
have said, you will infer that he was of an amiable disposition,
exhibiting less of heated temper than most of us. Not quick in
inviting a quarrel, but, being in, defending himself resolutely and
manfully. I do not think he was the favorite of his parents at that
day. Edward was. John, another brother, was passionate and hard to
govern, but he was the only one of the family who had these qualities
in a marked degree.
I think Joseph gave as little cause for anxiety to his parents
and friends as any boy could possibly do. He has been taken from us,
and I have written in a more public manner (as editor of The
Republican) my estimate of his character in all the relations of
life, &c.,&c.
At the age of twelve years, his brother John, who was two years
older than himself, was taken sick and died. This was the first great
sorrow that your dear grandfather ever knew. I have often heard him
speak of it, but never without a shade passing over his countenance,
denoting that time could not efface the recollection of that painful
event. Oh, how his loving young heart must have swelled with
unutterable grief when his playmate brother lay in his coffin, so still
and cold, his hands clasped upon his breast, with cheeks so pale, and
his bright blue eyes dimmed and closed! But grandpa still had brothers
and sisters left, and a kind father and mother. The world which looked
so dark, soon became a pleasant world to him again; the flowers looked
pretty and the air was fresh, and he was again seen sporting and
romping. But at night, when he knelt down to pray, and his thoughts
went up to Heaven, he would think of his brother, and, weeping, to
relieve his little, aching heart, he would go to bed, feeling lonely
and sad.
Did you ever think what a blessing it is to go to sleep, my dear
little children? What pleasant dreams; and how gay and bright the
morning appears after a good nights rest upon a comfortable bed. And
do you ever think how good God is to have given you a praying mother,
when so many little children have never heard of God or Heaven?
Grandpa had a Christian mother, too, and she taught him to pray. She
told him all about the great God who made Heaven and earth, and all
things, and about his SON JESUS, who came into the world as a little
child; that, though rich, he became poor, and was laid in a manger.
This blessed Jesus is your friend. He can hear, and he can answer your
prayers, and knows all you think and feel, all that you say and do.
Affectionately yours, GRANDMA.
BELMONT, January, 1860.