Of the difficulties and delays of that eventful journey up the Mississippi, few at the present day can form a clear conception. The keel-boats, similar in construction to a canal-boat, were propelled by poles all that three hundred miles, in the following manner: Several men stood on each side of the boat on what was called a running-board, with their faces to the stern, and, placing their long poles on the river bottom, braced them against their shoulders and pushed hard, walking towards the stern. Then, detaching the poles, they walked back to the bow, and repeated this operation hour after hour, being relieved at intervals for rest.

The perfect safety of this mode of travel commends itself to those who are in no hurry, and desire to learn all about the windings of the river and the geological and floral attractions along its banks.

At night the boats were tied up, camp-fires were lighted, tents pitched, sentinels posted and everything made ready, in case of an irruption of Indians.

Arriving at Lake Pepin, a few days were spent on its beautiful shores, resting, during which time the stores were overhauled and rearranged and the boats regulated and put in perfect order. The sick were growing stronger, and the little baby who was living on pap made of musty flour and sweetened water, tied up in a rag, which did duty for a patent nursing bottle, grew wonderfully, and bade fair to be a marvel of size and strength.

Sometime in September the pioneer regiment arrived in pretty good condition at—where? No fort, no settlement, no regular landing even; simply at the mouth of the St. Peters river, where we had been ordered to halt, and our long march was ended.

For many weeks the boats were our only shelter, and the sense of entire isolation, the thought that the nearest white neighbors were three hundred miles away, and that months must elapse before they could hope to hear a syllable from home, proved, at times, exceedingly depressing to these first settlers in Minnesota. I record, with pleasure, what has been often told me, that in that trying time the courage of the ladies of the party did not fail them, and that their cheerful way of taking things as they came and making the best of them, was a constant blessing and source of strength to that little community.

Without loss of time a space was cleared very near the site of Mendota, trees were cut down, a stockade built enclosing log houses erected for the accommodation of the garrison; everything being made as comfortable and secure as the facilities permitted. The Indians proved friendly and peaceable, and the command entered upon their life at "St. Peters," as it was first called, cheerfully and hopefully. A few days after their arrival Colonel Leavenworth, Major Vose, Surgeon Purcell, Mrs. Captain Gooding and my father made a keel-boat trip to the "Falls of St. Anthony," and were amazed at the beauty and grandeur of the scene.

A prediction at that time that some then living would see these mighty falls turn the machinery of the greatest mills in the world, and a great and beautiful city arise on the adjacent shores, would have been called a visionary and impossible dream by those early visitors who saw this amazing water power in its primeval glory.

That first winter of '19 and '20, like all winters in this latitude, was very cold, with heavy snows and fierce winds, but there were many sunshiny days, and there was little or no complaining.

The quarters, having been put up hastily, were not calculated to resist the severe storms which at times raged with great violence. Once during that memorable six months the roof of our cabin blew off, and the walls seemed about to fall in. My father, sending my mother and brother to a place of safety, held up the chimney to prevent a total downfall; while the baby, who had been pushed under the bed in her cradle, lay there, as "Sairey Gamp" would express it, "smiling unbeknowns," until the wind subsided, when, upon being drawn out from her hiding-place, she evinced great pleasure at the commotion, and seemed to take it all as something designed especially for her amusement.

By the prompt aid of a large number of soldiers the necessary repairs were rapidly made, and soon all was comfortable as before. But late in the winter, owing to the lack of proper food, scurvy broke out among the soldiers, and forty of them died of this dreadful disease. Many more were affected with it, and far removed as we were from all relief in the way of change of diet or suitable remedies, it was a matter of great uneasiness and alarm, as in the absence of necessary preventives or restoratives medical skill availed nothing.

However, as soon as the frost was sufficiently out of the ground to enable them to dig it, the Indians brought in quantities of the spignot root, assuring the surgeon that would cure the sick. This proved entirely efficacious. The scourge was removed, and after that trial passed away the command was peculiarly exempt from sickness of any kind.

As soon as possible gardens were made. Everything grew rapidly, and a sufficient supply of vegetables was secured to prevent any recurrence of the evil.

More permanent and comfortable quarters were built during the spring at the beautiful spring on the fort side of the river, and named by the officers "Camp Coldwater;" but before moving into the new camp Colonel Leavenworth was relieved from the command by Colonel Josiah Snelling, who, with his well-known energy and promptitude, immediately began preparations for building the fort, the site of which had been selected by Colonel Leavenworth. The saw-mill at "St. Anthony's Falls," so long known and remembered as the "Old Government Mill," was started as soon as practicable. Quarries were opened, and everything was done to facilitate the work, Colonel Snelling proving himself well fitted for the duty assigned him, and the spring of 1820 was a very busy one for the old Fifth Regiment.

MRS. SNELLING'S LIFE.

Mrs. Abigal Hunt Snelling was born at Watertown, Mass., January 23d, 1797. Her father's name was Thomas Hunt, Colonel of the First Regiment of Infantry, U. S. A., stationed then at Fort Wayne, Indiana, to which place his little daughter was taken when only six weeks old. The journey was performed on horseback, and the little baby was carried on a pillow, a long, rough trip for so young a traveler, and clearly indicative of her subsequent experience. She tells in her old age of a coincidence in her life which impressed her forcibly. Her father died and was buried at Bellefontaine, Ohio, and some years afterward Colonel Snelling was at this place with his family waiting orders, when their youngest child, an infant, named Thomas Hunt, sickened and died, and was buried by the side of his grandfather. An incident in her eventful life well worthy of mention in a record of the early days of our State is that she gave birth to the first white child born in Minnesota sixty-six years ago, and at the advanced age of ninety years she is alive to tell of it. Her ninetieth birthday was celebrated a few months ago in Newport, Kentucky, where, with the husband and children of a beloved daughter, who died some years ago, she is "only waiting till the shadows are a little longer grown."

She has been blind for many years, but otherwise her faculties are unimpaired and her health is excellent. I should like to have seen my old friend on that occasion, but could only send a congratulatory letter, recalling the memories of old Fort Snelling, with which she and I am so thoroughly identified. I am told she looked very lovely, and was much gratified at the pleasant surprise her friends had prepared for her, but was somewhat excited, and was carefully watched by her granddaughter, Miss Abby Hazard, who takes the most tender care of her precious grandmother.

It is somewhat remarkable that just about that time I learned through Hon. Fletcher Williams, who has a special gift for finding antiquities, that an old lady who had been a member of Mrs. Snelling's family at the fort was visiting her grandchildren at West St. Paul. I lost no time in calling on her, and found that she was one of the Swiss refugees who came to Fort Snelling from the Red River country. Her maiden name was Schadiker. She had married Sergeant Adams, of the Ordnance Department, whom I remembered well as a most faithful and highly respected man. After serving in the army many years at different posts, he resigned and took up land not far from Chicago, near which city he made a home and lived a long while very happily, dying only a year or two ago at a very advanced age. Mrs. Adams and I had a most enjoyable visit together. She is in very comfortable circumstances, and bears her age so bravely that it is hard to realize that she is seventy-seven years old. She told me, among other things, of a voyage Colonel Snelling and family made up the Mississippi, returning from a visit to the East. The weather was very rough, and at Lake Pepin, their boat having been wrecked, of course their provisions and many things were lost. With what was left of the craft they hugged the shore, and the crew made every effort to go forward, but, in their dismantled condition and with little or nothing to eat, it was very discouraging work. She tells me that in this extremity the men caught hold of the branches of trees which hung over the water and propelled the boat forward by inches, and Mrs. Snelling said to her: "Hannah, let us take hold of the willows, too, and pull. We may help, if it is ever so little," and they did so, pulling with all their might. She says she shall never forget their arrival at the fort at last. My father was in temporary command, and, learning in some way of their approach, sent help to them. He had had the fort illuminated and a Colonel's salute fired in honor of the return, and finally the weary ones reached the old headquarters, where my mother had provided for them a bountiful repast, and where they received so hearty a welcome that they soon forgot their weariness and the hardships and perils through which they had passed.