Judge Wilkeson was thrice married. His first wife, the mother of all his children, was Jane Oram, daughter of James Oram, a Scotch-Irish emigrant who came to this country with John Wilkeson, and with him went into the Revolutionary army and fought through the war as a captain. Of their six children, Elizabeth, John, Eli, William, Louise and Samuel, the eldest and youngest, John and Samuel, are now living.* His second wife was Sarah St. John, of Buffalo, a woman of uncommon intellect and character. His third was Mary Peters, of New Haven, Conn., eminent as an educator of girls. A simple malady, contracted at the first Chicago land sale, mistreated by many physicians, was at last transferred and confirmed into an incurable disease of one of the nobler organs. While he was yet young-for he was organized to live to be a century old-he died in July, 1848, in his 67th year, in a tavern in the Tennessee mountains, through which he was journeying to visit his youngest daughter.

This man was a king among men. 'Twas native to him to seize situations that required treatment and give orders. Men obeyed him without loss of self-respect. His right to command was conceded. He moved masses of men and did not excite jealousy. His knowledge of what was best to do was intuitive. He never had to come to a conclusion of mind by logical steps or by waiting. It is doubtful if he ever lost an opportunity. His knowledge was prodigious. His imagination was extraordinarily rich. His humor was fine. Through all his life men considered it a privilege to hear him talk. The graphic art with words was his. The great magnetic force of the man flashed over the wires of his talk, filling, kindling and lifting his listeners. Had he esteemed. himself much and been fond of applause, he would have been an irresistible orator. But an audience made him bashful. He was incorruptibly honest. His scorn of what was dishonorable or mean was grand. He had a dignity that all men respected and felt was becoming. His courage was chivalric and complete. And way down in the lion heart of

* Samuel Wilkeson, Jr., the author of this sketch of his father, died Dec. 2, 1889; his eldest brother, John, died April 4, 1894.

the man was a soft nest in which his children were held and his friends found warmth and sympathy. When a northwest gale swept down the lake and shrieked and moaned through the house, his crooning of one of Burns' ballads always shook his voice and made the tears tremble on his lids.

The cannonade against Fort Sumter which opened the slaveholders' rebellion, was not heard by this veteran as he lay in his grave in Forest Lawn. Eight of his grandsons heard it and went into the Union Army, three of them under age, two seventeen years old, the other sixteen. Not one of the eight served on a general's staff, was in the department of transportation or supplies, or ever placed on detail duty. Each and all were in the line and at the front. John Wilkes Wilkeson, oldest son of John, was killed in the sudden and bloody battle of the Seven Pines, in command of Company K, of the 100 N. Y. Infantry. He was shot in the front. He was pure as he was brave, and true, steadfast and gentle. Bayard Wilkeson, the oldest son of Samuel, was killed in the first day's fighting at Gettysburg, commanding Battery G, of the 4th U. S. Artillery, aged only 19 years, 1 month and 15 days. An infant in the language of the law, he was so thorough a soldier and so good a commander that his Battery had the post of honor in the Eleventh Corps, the right of the line of march.

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE WEST

AND THE FIRST BUILDING OF

BUFFALO HARBOR.

HISTORICAL WRITINGS OF

JUDGE SAMUEL WILKESON.

I.

REMOVAL TO WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA.

The present happy population of our country, enjoying not only peace, but all the necessaries and conveniences of life, can form no just conception of the poverty and privations endured by the early settlers of the West.

The Revolutionary War had withdrawn much of the labor of the country from agriculture and manufactures. There was no commerce, no money. The country at large could not furnish even necessary clothing. Hard as was the fate of the soldier while starving, freezing, and fighting for independence, still the prospective was cheering to him; he never doubted that his service would be rewarded, and be remembered with gratitude by his country. But when discharged, he received his pay in Continental money, worth but a few cents on the dollar, and, returning poor to his family, found them as destitute as himself. The pride and parade of the camp which had excited and sustained him, were now gone-there was none to relieve or assist him. Some sunk under their discouragements. Brave men, who never shrank from danger in their country's defence, and who cheerfully endured all the hardships incident to the

soldier's life, had not the courage to contend with poverty, nor the resolution to exchange the excitements of war for that diligent pursuit of personal labor which was requisite for the support of their families. Many, however, resolved on crossing the mountains, and becoming farmers in the West. The difficulties to be encountered in effecting this resolution, were many and great. The journey was full of peril, especially to women and children, poorly provided with even the most common necessaries.

It may interest some of my readers, who have never felt what privation or suffering is, to know by what expedients the pioneers of the West were enabled to remove their families across the mountains. I have often, when a boy, listened to the recital made by the mothers who were companions in these sufferings, and who at every meeting in after life would recur to them with tears.

My father's family was one of 20 that emigrated from Carlisle, and the neighboring country, to Western Pennsylvania, in the spring of 1784. Our arrangements for the journey would, with little variation, be descriptive of those of the whole caravan. Our family consisted of my father, mother, and three children (the eldest one five, the youngest less than one year old), and a bound boy of 14. The road to be traveled in crossing the mountains, was scarcely, if at all, practicable for wagons. Pack horses were the only means of transportation then, and for years after. We were provided with three horses, on one of which my mother rode, carrying her infant, with all the table furniture and cooking utensils. On another were packed the stores of provisions, the plough irons, and other agricultural tools. The third horse was rigged out with a pack-saddle, and two large creels, made of hickory withes in the fashion of a crate, one over each side, in which were stowed the beds and bedding, and the wearing apparel of the family. In the center of these creels there was an aperture prepared for myself and sister, and the top was well secured by lacing, to keep us in our places, so that only our heads appeared above. Each family was supplied with one or more cows, an indispensable provision for the journey. Their milk furnished the morn