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IN THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN
A Tale of the Tunker Schoolmaster
and the Times of Black Hawk
BY
HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH
AUTHOR OF THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE COLUMBIA
Let us have faith that right makes might, and
in that faith as to the end dare to do our duty.
PRESIDENT LINCOLN.
_ILLUSTRATED_
[Illustration]
NINTH EDITION
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1898
COPYRIGHT, 1892,
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
PREFACE.
Abraham Lincoln has become the typical character of American
institutions, and it is the purpose of this book, which is a true
picture in a framework of fiction, to show how that character, which so
commanded the hearts and the confidence of men, was formed. He who in
youth unselfishly seeks the good of others, without fear or favor, may
be ridiculed, but he makes for himself a character fit to govern others,
and one that the people will one day need and honor. The secret of
Abraham Lincoln's success was the "faith that right makes might." This
principle the book seeks by abundant story-telling to illustrate and
make clear.
In this volume, as in the "Log School-House on the Columbia," the
adventures of a pioneer school-master are made to represent the early
history of a newly settled country. The "Log School-House on the
Columbia" gave a view of the early history of Oregon and Washington.
This volume collects many of the Indian romances and cabin tales of the
early settlers of Illinois, and pictures the hardships and manly
struggles of one who by force of early character made himself the
greatest of representative Americans.
The character of the Dunkard, or Tunker, as a wandering school-master,
may be new to many readers. Such missionaries of the forests and
prairies have now for the most part disappeared, but they did a useful
work among the pioneer settlements on the Ohio and Illinois Rivers. In
this case we present him as a disciple of Pestalozzi and a friend of
Froebel, and as one who brings the German methods of story-telling into
his work.
"Was there ever so good an Indian as Umatilla?" asks an accomplished
reviewer of the "Log School-House on the Columbia." The chief whose
heroic death in the grave of his son is recorded in that volume did not
receive the full measure of credit for his devotion, for he was really
buried _alive_ in the grave of his boy. A like question may be asked in
regard to the father of Waubeno in this volume. We give the story very
much as Black Hawk himself related it. In Drake's History of the Indians
we find it related in the following manner:
"It is related by Black Hawk, in his Life, that some time before the War
of 1812 one of the Indians had killed a Frenchman at Prairie des Chiens.
'The British soon after took him prisoner, and said they would shoot him
next day. His family were encamped a short distance below the mouth of
the Ouisconsin. He begged permission to go and see them that night, as
he was _to die the next day_. They permitted him to go, after promising
to return the next morning by sunrise. He visited his family, which
consisted of a wife and six children. I can not describe their meeting
and parting to be understood by the whites, as it appears that their
feelings are acted upon by certain rules laid down by their
_preachers_!--while ours are governed only by the monitor within us. He
parted from his wife and children, hurried through the prairie to the
fort, and arrived in time. The soldiers were ready, and immediately
_marched out and shot him down_!' If this were not cold-blooded,
deliberate murder on the part of the whites I have no conception of what
constitutes that crime. What were the circumstances of the murder we are
not informed; but whatever they may have been, they can not excuse a
still greater barbarity."
It belongs, like the story of so-called Umatilla in the "Log
School-House on the Columbia," to a series of great legends of Indian
character which the poet's pen and the artist's brush would do well to
perpetuate. The examples of Indians who have valued honor more than life
are many, and it is a pleasing duty to picture such scenes of native
worth, as true to the spirit of the past.
We have in this volume, as in the former book, freely mingled history,
tradition, and fiction, but we believe that we have in no case been
untrue to the fact and spirit of the times we picture, and we have
employed fiction chiefly as a framework to bring what is real more
vividly into view. We have employed the interpretive imagination merely
for narrative purposes. Nearly all that has distinctive worth in the
volume is substantially true to history, tradition, and the general
spirit of old times in the Illinois, the Sangamon, and the Chicago; to
the character of the "jolly old pedagogue long ago"; and to that
marvelous man who accepted in youth the lesson of lessons, that "right
makes might."
28 WORCHESTER STREET, BOSTON, MASS.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--INTRODUCED 1
II.--THOMAS LINCOLN'S FAMILY STORIES 17
III.--THE OLD BLACKSMITH'S SHOP AND THE MERRY STORY-TELLERS 33
IV.--A BOY WITH A HEART 55
V.--JASPER COBBLES FOR AUNT OLIVE.--HER QUEER STORIES 62
VI.--JASPER GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS VISIT TO BLACK HAWK.--AUNT
INDIANA'S WIG 75
VII.--THE EXAMINATION AT CRAWFORD'S SCHOOL 87
VIII.--THE PARABLE PREACHES IN THE WILDERNESS 100
IX.--AUNT INDIANA'S PROPHECIES 108
X.--THE INDIAN RUNNER 115
XI.--THE CABIN NEAR CHICAGO 122
XII.--THE WHITE INDIAN OF CHICAGO 133
XIII.--LAFAYETTE AT KASKASKIA.--THE STATELY MINUET 140
XIV.--WAUBENO AND YOUNG LINCOLN 156
XV.--THE DEBATING SCHOOL 166
XVI.--THE SCHOOL THAT MADE LINCOLN PRESIDENT 177
XVII.--THOMAS LINCOLN MOVES 184
XVIII.--MAIN-POGUE 196
XIX.--THE FOREST COLLEGE 202
XX.--MAKING LINCOLN A "SON OF MALTA" 214
XXI.--PRAIRIE ISLAND 218
XXII.--THE INDIAN PLOT 229
XXIII.--FOR LINCOLN'S SAKE 236
XXIV.--"OUR LINCOLN IS THE MAN" 251
XXV.--AT THE LAST 265
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
The rescue _Frontispiece_
The Tunker school-master's class in manners 14
Lines written by Lincoln on the leaf of his school-book 22
Story-telling at the smithy 35
The home of Abraham Lincoln when in his tenth year 55
Aunt Olive's wedding 68
Abraham as a peace-maker 90
Black Hawk tells the story of Waubeno 118
A queer place to write poetry 160
Sarah Bush Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln's step-mother 217
The approach of the mysterious Indian 240
The Lincoln family record 250
Abraham Lincoln, the man 262
IN THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCED.
"Boy, are there any schools in these parts?"
"Crawford's."
"And who, my boy, is Crawford?"
"The schoolmaster, don't yer know? He's great on thrashing--on
thrashing--and--and he knows everything. Everybody in these parts has
heard of Crawford. He's great."
"That is all very extraordinary. 'Great on thrashing, and knows
everything.' Very extraordinary! Do you raise much wheat in these
parts?"
"He don't thrash wheat, mister. Old Dennis and young Dennis do that with
their thrashing-flails."
"But what does he thrash, my boy--what does he thrash?"
"He just thrashes boys, don't you know."
"Extraordinary--very extraordinary. He thrashes boys."
"And teaches 'em their manners. He teaches manners, Crawford does.
Didn't you never hear of Crawford? You must be a stranger in these
parts."
"Yes, I am a stranger in Indiana. I have been following the timber
along the creek, and looking out on the prairie islands. This is a
beautiful country. Nature has covered it with grasses and flowers, and
the bees will swarm here some day; I see them now; the air is all bright
with them, my boy."
"I don't see any bees; it isn't the time of year for 'em. Do you
cobble?"
"You don't quite understand me. I was speaking spiritually. Yes, I
cobble to pay my way. Yes, my boy."
"Do you preach?"
"Yes, and teach the higher branches--like Crawford. He teaches the
higher branches, does he not?"
"Don't make any odds where he gets 'em. I didn't know that he used the
higher branches. He just cuts a stick anywhere, and goes at 'em, he
does."
"You do not comprehend me, my boy. I teach the higher branches in new
schools--Latin and singing. I do not use the higher branches of the
trees."
"Latin! Then you must be a _wizard_."
"No, no, my boy. I am one of the Brethren--called. My new name is
Jasper. I chose that name because I needed polishing. Do you see? Well,
the Lord is doing his work, polishing me, and I shall shine by and by.
'They that turn many to righteousness shall shine like the stars of
heaven.' They call me the Parable."
"Then you be a Tunker?"
"I am one of the wandering Brethren that they call 'Tunkers.'"
"You preach for nothin'? They do."
"Yes, my boy; the Word is free."
"Then who pays you?"
"My soul."
"And you teach for nothin', too, do ye?"
"Yes, my boy. Knowledge is free."
"Then who pays you?"
"It all comes back to me. He that teaches is taught."
"You don't cobble for nothin', do ye?"
"Yes--I cobble to pay my way. I am a wayfaring man, wandering to and fro
in the wilderness of the world."
"You cobble to pay yourself for teachin' and preachin'! Why don't you
make _them_ pay you? I shouldn't think that you would want to preach and
teach and cobble all for nothin', and travel, and travel, and sleep
anywhere. Father will be proper glad to see you--and mother; we are glad
to see near upon anybody. I suppose that you will hold forth down to
Crawford's; in the log meetin'-'ouse, or in the school-'ouse, may be, or
under the great trees over Nancy Lincoln's grave. Elkins he preached
there, and the circuit-rider."
"If I follow the timber, I will come to Crawford's, my boy?"
"Yes, mister. You'll come to the school-'ouse, and the meetin'-'ouse.
The school-'ouse has a low-down roof and a big chimney. Crawford will be
right glad to see you, won't he now? They are great on spellin' down
there--have spellin'-matches, and all the people come from far and near
to hear 'em spell--hundreds of 'em. Link--he's the head speller--he
could spell down anybody. It is the greatest school in all these here
new parts. You will have a right good time down there; they'll treat ye
right well."
"Good, my boy; you speak kindly. I shall have a good time, if the people
have ears."
"Ears! They've all got ears--just like other folks. You didn't think
that they didn't have any ears, did ye?"
"I mean ears for the truth. I must travel on. I am glad that I met you,
my lad. Tell your father and mother that old Jasper the Parable has gone
by, and that he has a message for them in his heart. God bless you, my
boy--God bless you! You are a little rude in your speech, but you mean
well."
The man went on, following the trail along the great trees of Pigeon
Creek, and the boy stood looking after him. The water rippled under the
trees, and afar lay the open prairie, like a great sun sea. The air was
cool, but the light of spring was in it, and the blue-birds fluted
blithely among the budding trees.
As he passed along amid these new scenes, a singular figure appeared in
the way. It was a woman in a linsey-woolsey dress, corn sun-bonnet, and
a huge cane. She looked at the Tunker suspiciously, yet seemed to retard
her steps that he might overtake her.
"My good woman," said the latter, coming up to her, "I am not sure of my
way."
"Well, I am."
"I wish to go to the Pigeon Creek--settlement--"
"Then you ought to have kept the way when you had it."
"But, my good woman, I am a stranger in these parts. A boy has directed
me, but I feel uncertain. What do you do when you lose your way?"
"I don't lose it."
"But if you were--"
"I'd just turn to the right, and keep right straight ahead till I found
it."
"True, true; but this is a new country to me. I am one of the Brethren."
"Ye be, be ye? I thought you were one of them land agents. One of the
Brethren. I'm proper glad. Who were you lookin' for?"
"Crawford's school."
"The college? Am you're goin' there? I go over there sometimes to see
him wallop the boys. We must all have discipline in life, you know, and
it is best to begin with the young. Crawford does. They say that
Crawford teaches clear to the rule of three, whatever that may be. One
added to one is more than one, according to the Scriptur'; now isn't it?
One added to one is almost three. Is that what they call high
mathematics? I never got further than the multiplication-table, though I
am a friend to education. My name is Olive Eastman. What's yourn?"
"Jasper."
"You don't? One of the old patriarchs, like. Well, I live this way--you
go _that_. 'Tain't more'n half a mile to Crawford's--close to the
meetin'-'ouse. Mebby you'll preach there, and I'll hear ye. Glad I met
ye now, and to see who you be. They call me Aunt Olive sometimes, and
sometimes Aunt Indiana. I settled Pigeon Creek, or husband and I did. He
was kind o' weakly; he's gone now, and I live all alone. I'd be glad to
have you come over and preach at the 'ouse, though I might not believe a
word on't. I'm a Methody; most people are Baptist down here, like the
Linkuns, but we is all ready to listen to a Tunker. People are only
responsible for what they know; and there are some good people among the
Tunkers, I've hern tell. Now don't go off into some by-path into the
woods. Tom Lincoln he see a bear there the other day, but he wouldn't
'a' shot it if it had been an elephant with tusks of ivory and gold.
Some folks haven't no calculation. The Lincolns hain't. Good-by."
The Tunker was a middle-aged man of probably forty-five or more years.
He had a benevolent face, large, sympathetic eyes, and a patriarchal
beard. His garments had hooks instead of buttons. He carried a leather
bag in which were a Bible and a hymn-book, some German works of
Zinzendorf, and his cobbling-tools. We can not wonder that the boy
stared after him. He would have looked oddly anywhere.
My reader may not know who a Tunker was, as our wandering schoolmaster
was called. A Tunker, or Dunker, was one of a sect of German Baptists or
Quakers, who were formerly very numerous in Pennsylvania and Ohio. The
order numbered at one time some thirty thousand souls. They called
themselves Brethren, but were commonly known as "Tunkards," or
"Dunkards," from a German word meaning to _dip_. At their baptisms they
dip the body of a convert three times; and so in their own land they
received the name of Tunkers, or _dippers_, and this name followed them
into Holland and to America. A large number of the Brethren settled in
Germantown, Pa. Thence they wandered into Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois,
preaching and teaching and doing useful work. Like the Quakers, they
have now nearly disappeared.
Their doctrines were peculiar, but their lives were unselfish and pure,
and their influence blameless. They believed in being led by the inner
light; that the soul was a seat of divine and spiritual authority, and
that the Spirit came to them as a direct revelation. They did not eat
meat or drink wine. They washed each other's feet after their religious
services, wore their beards long, and gave themselves new names that
they might not be tempted by any worldly ambitions or rivalries. They
thought it wrong to take oaths, to hold slaves, or to treat the Indians
differently from other men. They would receive no payment for preaching,
but held that it was the duty of all men to live by what they earned by
their own labor. They traveled wherever they felt moved to go by the
inward monitor. They were a peculiar people, but the prairie States owe
much that was good to their influence. The new settlers were usually
glad to see the old Tunker when he appeared among them, and to receive
his message, and women and children felt the loss of this benevolent
sympathy when he went away. He established no church, yet all people
believed in his sincerity, and most people listened to him with respect
and reverence. The sect closely resembled the old Jewish order of the
Essenes, except that they did not wear the garment of white, but loose
garments without buttons.
The scene of the Tunker's journey was in Spencer County, Indiana, near
the present town of Gentryville. This county was rapidly being occupied
by immigrants, and it was to this new people that Jasper the Parable
believed himself to be guided by the monitor within.
Early in the afternoon he passed several clearings and cabins, where he
stopped to receive directions to the school-house and meeting-house.
The country was one vast wilderness. For the most part it was covered
with gigantic trees, though here and there a rich prairie opened out of
the timber. There were oaks gray with centuries, and elms jacketed with
moss, in whose high boughs the orioles in summer builded and sang, and
under which the bluebells grew. There were black-walnut forests in
places, with timber almost as hard as horn. The woods in many places
were open, like colonnades, and carpeted with green moss. There were no
restrictions of law here, or very few. One might pitch his tent
anywhere, and live where he pleased. The land, as a rule, was common.
Jasper came at last to a clearing with a rude cabin, near which was a
three-faced camp, as a house of poles with one open side was called.
Spencer County was near the Kentucky border, and the climate was so warm
that a family could live there in a house of poles in comfort for most
of the year.
As Jasper the Parable came up to the log-house, which had neither hinged
doors nor glass windows, a large, rough, good-humored-looking man came
out to the gate to meet him, and stood there leaning upon a low
gate-post.
"Howdy, stranger?" said the hardy pioneer. "What brings you to these
parts--lookin' fer a place to settle down at?"
"No, my good friend--I'm obliged to you for speaking so kindly to a
wayfarer--peace be with you--I am looking for the school-house. Can you
direct me there?"
"I reckon. Then you be going to see the school? Good for ye. A great
school that Crawford keeps. I've got a boy and a girl in that there
school myself. The boy, if I do say it now, is the smartest fellow in
all the country round--and the laziest. Smart at the top, but it don't
go down. Runs all to larnin'. Just reads and studies about all the time,
speaks pieces, and preaches on stumps, and makes poetry, and things. I
don't know what will ever become of him. He's a queer one. My name is
Linkem" (Lincoln)--"Thomas Linkem. What's yourn?"
"They call me Jasper the Parable--that is my new name. I'm one of the
Brethren. No offense, I hope--just one of the Brethren."
"Oh, you be--a Tunker. Well, we'll all be proper glad to see you down
here. I come from Kentuck. Where did you come from?"
"From Pennsylvania, here. I was born in Germany."
"Sho, you did? From Pennsylvany! And how far are you going?"
"I'm going to meet Black Hawk. My good friend, I stop and preach and
teach and cobble along the way."
"What! Black Hawk, the chief? Is it him you're goin' to see? You're an
Indian agent, perhaps, travelin' for the State or the fur-traders?"
"No, I am not a trader of any kind. I am going to meet Black Hawk at
Rock River. He has promised me a young Indian guide, who will show me
all these paths and act as an interpreter, and gain for me a passage
among all the Indian tribes. I have met Black Hawk before."
"You've been to Illinois, have ye? Glad to hear ye say so. What kind of
a kentry is that, now? I've sometimes thought of going there myself. It
ain't over-healthy here. Say, stranger, come back and stop with us after
you've been to the school. I haven't any great accommodations, as you
see, but I will do the best I can for you, and it will make my wife and
Abe and the gal proper glad to have a talk with a preacher. Ye will,
won't ye, now? Say yes."
"Yes, yes, if it is so ordered, friend. Thank you, yes. I feel moved to
say that I will come back. You are very good, my friend."
"Yes, yes, come back and see us all. I won't detain ye any longer now.
You see that there openin'? Well, you just follow that path as the
crow flies, and you'll come to the school-'ouse. Good-day,
stranger--good-day."
It was early spring, a season always beautiful in southern Indiana. The
buds were swelling; the woodpeckers were tapping the old trees, and the
migrating birds were returning to their old homes in the tree-tops.
Jasper went along singing, for his heart was happy, and he felt the
cheerful influence of the vernal air. The birds to him were prophets and
choirs, and the murmur of the south winds in the trees was a sermon. A
right and receptive spirit sees good in everything, and so Jasper sang
as he walked along the footpath.
The school-house came into view. It was built of round logs, and was
scarcely higher than a tall man's head. The chimney was large, and was
constructed of poles and clay, and the floor and furniture were made of
puncheons, as split logs were called. The windows consisted of rough
slats and oiled paper. The door was open, and Jasper came up and stood
before it. How strange the new country all seemed to him!
The schoolmaster came to the door. He affected gentlemanly and almost
courtly manners, and bowed low.
"Is this Mr. Crawford, may I ask?" said Jasper.
"Andrew Crawford. And whom have I the honor of meeting?"
"My new name is Jasper. I am one of the Brethren. They call me the
Parable. I am on my way to Rock Island, Illinois, to meet Black Hawk,
the chief, who has promised to assist me with a guide and interpreter
for my missionary journeys among the new settlements and the tribes. I
have come, may it please you, to visit the school. I am a teacher
myself."
"You do us great honor, and I assure you that you are very welcome--very
welcome. Come in."
The scholars stared, and presented a very strange appearance. The boys
were dressed in buckskin breeches and linsey-woolsey shirts, and the
girls in homespun gowns of most economical patterns. The furniture
seemed all pegs and puncheons. The one cheerful object in the room was
the enormous fireplace. The pupils delighted to keep this fed with fuel
in the chilly winter days, and the very ashes had cheerful suggestions.
It was all ashes now, for the sun was high, and the spring falls warm
and early in the forests of southern Indiana.
It was past mid afternoon, and the slanting sun was glimmering in the
tops of the gigantic forest-trees seen from the open door.
"We have nearly completed the exercises of the day," said Mr. Crawford.
"I have yet to hear the spelling-class, and to conduct the exercises in
manners. I teach manners. Shall I go on in the usual way?"
"Yes, yes, may it please you--yes, in the usual way--in the usual way.
You are very kind."
"You do me great honor.--The class in spelling," said Mr. Crawford,
turning to the school. Five boys and girls stood up, and came to an open
space in front of the desk. The recitation of this class was something
most odd and amusing to Jasper, and so it would seem to a teacher of
to-day.
"_Incompatibility_" said Mr. Crawford. "You may make your manners and
spell _incompatibility_, Sarah."
A tall girl with a high forehead and very short dress gave a modest and
abashed glance at the wandering visitor, blushed, courtesied very low,
and thus began the rhythmic exercise of spelling the word in the
old-time way:
"I-n, in; there's your in. C-o-m, com, incom; there's your incom; incom.
P-a-t, pat, compat, incompat; there's your incompat; incompat. I-, pati,
compati, incompati; there's your incompati; incompati. B-i-l, bil; ibil,
patibil, compatibil, incompatibil; there's your incompatibil;
incompatibil. I-, bili, patibili, compatibili, incompatibili; there's
your incompatibili; incompatibili. T-y, ty, ity, bility, ibility,
patibility, compatibility, incompatibility; there's your
incompatibility; _incompatibility_."
The girl seemed dazed after this mazy effort. Mr. Crawford bowed, and
Jasper the Parable looked serene, and remarked, encouragingly:
"Extraordinary! I never heard a word spelled in that way. This is an
age of wonders. One meets with strange things everywhere. I should think
that that girl would make a teacher one day; and the new country will
soon need teachers. The girl did well."
"You do me great honor," said Mr. Crawford, bowing like a courtier. "I
appreciate it, I assure you; I appreciate it, and thank you. I have
aimed to make my school the best in the country. Your commendation
encourages me to hope that I have not failed."
But these polite and generous compliments were exchanged a little too
soon. The next word that Mr. Crawford gave out from the "Speller" was
_obliquity_.
"Jason, make your manners and spell _obliquity_. Take your hands out of
your pockets; that isn't manners. Take your hands out of your pockets
and spell _obliquity_."
Jason was a tall lad, in a jean blouse and leather breeches. His hair
was tangled and his ankles were bare. He seemed to have a loss of
confidence, but he bobbed his head for manners, and began to spell in a
very loud voice, that had in it almost the sharpness of defiance.
"O-b, ob; there's your ob; ob." He made a leer. "L-i-k, lik, oblik;
there's your oblik--"
"No," said Mr. Crawford, with a look of vexation and disappointment.
"Try again."
Jason took a higher key of voice.
"Wall, O-b, ob; there's your ob; ain't it? L-i-c-k, and there's your
lick--"
"Take your seat!" thundered Mr. Crawford. "I'll give you a _lick_ after
school. Think of bringing obliquity upon the school in the presence of
a teacher from the Old World! Next!"
But the next pupil became lost in the mazes of the improved method of
spelling, and the class brought dishonor upon the really conscientious
and ambitious teacher.
The exercise in manners partly redeemed the disaster.
"Abraham Lincoln, stand up."
A tall boy arose, and his head almost touched the ceiling. He was
dressed in a linsey-woolsey frock, with buckskin breeches which were
much too short for him. His ankles were exposed, and his feet were
poorly covered. His face was dark and serious. He did not look like one
whom an unseen Power had chosen to control one day the destiny of
nations, to call a million men to arms, and to emancipate a race.
"Abraham Lincoln, you may go out, and come in and be introduced."
It required but a few steps to take the young giant out of the door. He
presently returned, knocking.
"James Sparrow, you may go to the door," said Mr. Crawford.
The boy arose, went to the door, and bowed very properly.
"Good-afternoon, Mr. Lincoln. I am glad to see you. Come in. If it
please you, I will present you to my friends."
Abraham entered, as in response to this courtly parrot-talk.
"Mr. Crawford, may I have the honor of presenting to you my friend
Abraham Lincoln?--Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Crawford."
[Illustration: THE TUNKER SCHOOLMASTER'S CLASS IN MANNERS.]
Mr. Crawford bowed slowly and condescendingly. Abraham was then
introduced to each of the members of the school, and the exercise was a
very creditable one, under the untoward circumstances. And this shall be
our own introduction to one of the heroes of our story, and, following
this odd introduction, we will here make our readers somewhat better
acquainted with Jasper the Parable.
He was born in Thuringia, not far from the Baths of Liebenstein. His
father was a German, but his mother was of English descent, and he had
visited England with her in his youth, and so spoke the English language
naturally and perfectly. He had become an advocate of the plans of
Pestalozzi, the father of common-school education, in his early life.
One of the most intimate friends of his youth was Froebel, afterward the
founder of the kindergarten system of education. With Froebel he had
entered the famous regiment of Luetzow; he had met Koerner, and sang the
"Wild Hunt of Luetzow," by Von Weber, as it came from the composer's pen,
the song which is said to have driven Napoleon over the Rhine. He had
married, lost wife and children, become melancholy and despondent, and
finally fallen under the influence of the preaching of a Tunker, and had
taken the resolution to give up himself entirely, his will and desires,
and to live only for others, and to follow the spiritual impression,
which he believed to be the Divine will. He was simple and sincere. His
friends had treated him ill on his becoming a Tunker, but he forgave
them all, and said: "You reject me from your hearts and homes. I will go
to the new country, and perhaps I may find there a better place for us
all. If I do, I will return to you and treat you as Joseph treated his
brethren. You are oppressed; you have to bear arms for years. I am left
alone in the world. Something calls me over the sea."
He lived near Marienthal, the Vale of Mary. It was a lovely place, and
his heart loved it and all the old German villages, with their songs and
children's festivals, churches, and graves. He bade farewell to Froebel.
"I am going to study life," he said, "in the wilderness of the New
World." He came to Pennsylvania, and met the Brethren there who had come
from Germany, and then traveled with an Indian agent to Rock Island,
Illinois, where he had met Black Hawk. Here he resolved to become a
traveling teacher, preacher, and missionary, after the usages of his
order, and he asked Black Hawk for an interpreter and guide.
"Return to me in May," said the chief, "and I will provide you with as
noble a son of the forest as ever breathed the air."
He returned to Ohio, and was now on his way to visit the old chief
again.
The country was a wonder to him. Coming from middle Germany and the
Rhine lands, everything seemed vast and limitless. The prairies with
their bluebells, the prairie islands with their giant trees, the forests
that shaded the streams, were all like a legend, a fairy story, a dream.
He admired the heroic spirit of the pioneers, and he took the Indians to
his heart. In this spirit he began to travel over the unbroken prairies
of Indiana and Illinois.