IN THE GUERRILLA CAMP.
"Woe, ah, bitter woe!
The suffering mother and the moaning babe
The aged feeling in their veins the blood
Chilling forever."
At last the war-cloud, which had been hovering for months over
our fair land, burst with a fury that was appalling. Cheeks were
blanched and hearts were made tremulous in agony. Missouri was
destined to realize a season of despair, such as has fallen upon
few people in modern times. It was neighbor against neighbor,
kinsman against kinsman, brother against brother, and vengeful hate
burning up all that was merciful and good in human nature. The
night of woe had descended.
The appearance of the renowned Guerrilla chieftain, Quantrell,
on the border; the stories which were circulated concerning his
achievements; the feverish state of the public mind, and the
circumstances in which the people of this State were involved, all
contributed to exert a large influence over the minds of the youths
and young men just coming upon the stage of life in the Western
counties. Cole Younger, who had not then been regarded as "a wild
lad," equally with Frank James, who had been so regarded, was
attracted to the standard of the daring Guerrilla. In the vortex
of passion which whirled through the land, all principles, love,
justice, mercy and hope were swallowed up. Men were transformed by
the baleful influence.
Previous to the departure of Frank James for Quantrell's camp,
there is no evidence that Dr. or Mrs. Samuels had been mistreated
or in any way insulted by the Federal militia. The Samuels family
were intensely attached to the Southern cause, and the very
appearance of soldiers in the blue uniform of the United States was
not a little galling to the sectional pride and native passion of
Mrs. Samuels, who did not hesitate at any time to abuse the cause
which they represented. In this pleasant pastime she was always
emphatic and unamiable in expression.
It was early in 1862 that Frank James bid adieu to all peaceful
pursuits, and rode away in the dim twilight hour to seek the
camp of the Guerrilla Chieftain. He had made a start toward
becoming an outlaw. It was in the spring-time. Frank was away
with Quantrell's reckless band, and Jesse, who had attained the
age of sixteen years, was ploughing in a field on the Samuels
estate, near Kearney, when on a bright day a band of Federal
militia approached the homestead. They first encountered Dr.
Samuels, and him they laid violent hands upon, bore him away to a
convenient tree, adjusted a rope about his neck and hanged him to a
projecting branch until life was almost extinct, and so they left
him for others to relieve. Not content with this exhibition of
prowess, the valiant warriors proceeded to the field where Jesse
followed his plough, and laid hold upon him, and placed a rope
around his neck and told him his hour had come, and while they
tormented him in this manner, some of them pricked his body with
their bayonet-points or their sabres. The reason assigned by the
militiamen for this exhibition of violence, was that Jesse James
was accustomed to ride fast and far when the shades of night fell
upon the earth, to convey intelligence to the Guerrilla Chieftain
of the movements of the militia. When they had chastised him, and
warned him that if he rode any more to carry the news they would
kill him, they let him go his way.
But Jesse James was not to be intimidated. He rode again and
again to the hidden camp. His bad passions were aroused. The boy
had become a savage. That same week the militia made a descent
upon the farm-house of Dr. Samuels, and finding Mrs. Samuels and
her daughter, Miss Susie James, at home, they were placed under
arrest and conveyed to the jail at St. Joseph, at that time a
place reeking in filth, where they were detained for a number of
weeks, all the while subjected to the coarse jests and cruel jeers
of the unfeeling guards. This last act on the part of the Federal
militia determined the future course of Jesse James. While his
mother and sister languished in jail, Jesse mounted a horse, fleet
of foot, and rode away, nor did he stop until he drew rein in
Quantrell's camp. At this time he was described as not yet sixteen
years of age, with a smooth, handsome face, with deep blue eyes,
and a complexion as soft, as delicate and fair as a school girl's.
But even then the bright blue eyes were never at rest, and about
the mouth were the lines of strong determination, and a certain
expression of countenance that indicated cool courage. He, perhaps,
had the susceptibility of being merciful, but _his mercy_ was a
mere whim--a passing fancy and not a quality.
Frank and Jesse had both entered upon their career--a course in
life destined to blight all that was noble, or susceptible of
becoming noble and grand in character. The old life, with all its
promise, and all its dreams and hopes, was past. Henceforth a new
life, fraught with danger and sufferings, and crimes which should
make their very names a terror, was to animate them. The hard lines
were drawn, and the men who might have served well the interests
of a peaceful society, had more favorable circumstances surrounded
them, cast loose all the restraints of civilized life, and in a
day, as it were, returned to that condition of savage existence
from which the race had been raised by ages of struggle. They were
not long in proving to their comrades that they were worthy to be
numbered among their desperate ranks. Their efficiency as daring
and dangerous partisans was soon made manifest.