Atkinson to Prairie du Chien, and as I was passing by Sodom I was called in to see Taffy Jones. I found him on his bed in a miserable condition, and dying from chronic alcoholism. His countenance was horrible to look upon. He seemed to have but one thought, one wish. His only cry was whisky! whisky! whisky! I told Thorn, who was his right bower, that Taffy was dying, and to gratify his last wish. A tumbler of whisky was placed to his lips, and he swallowed it with all the gusto that marks the smallest babe while drawing nourishment from the breast of its mother. In a few hours he died, a striking illustration of the the old adage,' the ruling passion strong in death.' The murder of the Gardner family was caused by whisky. Gardner kept a whisky shop, and it seems a number of Indians called at his place for their favorite beverage. He dealt out the whisky to them until they became intoxicated, and he, becoming alarmed, refused to let them have any more. They then determined to take the whisky by force, whereupon Gardner offered resistance. He was seized by the demons and dispatched. His defenseless wife and innocent babe were next assassinated, and his daughter, a beautiful girl about twelve years old, was reserved for a more terrible fate."

Of the bands of Winnebagoes and the difficulties of their removal, Sparks' history says:

"At the time the Winnebagoes were removed they numbered about four thousand, and were scattered over their reservation, or what was then called 'the neutral ground.' Four bands were located near the Fort and Agency. The other bands were located more remote. Where the city of Decorah now stands was a large band under the government of the hereditary chief Decorah; hence the name. This country was at that time an Indian paradise, abounding in fish and game. The sale of their lands to the Government by their chiefs, and their acceptance of a new home in Minnesota, was very unsatisfactory to the Indians themselves. For a long time they refused to comply with the agreement entered into by their chiefs, and only consented when compelled by force of United States troops. Owing to their reluctance to remove, the whole summer was spent in their ejection. One band, governed by a chief called the 'The Dandy,' would not go upon the land assigned them, but returned with their chief to Black River, Wisconsin, where they remained till the summer of 1874, when they were finally removed (at a great expense to the Government) to the home of the tribe west of the Missouri. But they had remained on their new hunting grounds but a few months when they again returned to their old homes.'

The remainder of this chapter, describing Indian life and another bloody tragedy caused by selling whisky to the Indians, is from a series of papers being published in the Decorah Journal on pioneer life in this region:

"The character of the Indians, as written by their distant admirers, or their near enemies, has been both overrated and underrated. How shall I describe them?-a mixture of savage barbarism and of 'civilization,' as learned from the whites. This is about what the pioneers found them to be. They are either warm and trusty friends, or bitter, treacherous and blood-thirsty enemies. That is their savage nature. They are inveterate beggars, liars and thieves; a part of this is nature, and a part was learned from their white brothers. They are lazy, dirty and shiftless. They are brave, chaste and constant in their marital relations. They are true to their tribe and those who befriend them, but revengeful and unforgiving to their enemies. How much of this is nature, and how much is learned from the pale faces, I leave to the reader to say.

"With the coming of the whites, the habits of the Indians underwent something of a change. They learned to prize money and to covet its possession, provided it could be gained without much labor. Their wants grew to be more numerous as the ability to supply them increased. They were still hunters, as they had always been, but to this was added a few other pursuits whereby money could be obtained. But in this the principle labor fell upon the squaws. The braves would hunt and fish, and would sell their furs, which always commanded good prices, while the deer skins would be tanned by the squaws, and often manufactured into moccasins, many of them tastefully beaded and ornamented. For thread they used the sinews of the deer, and their work was both substantial and neat. These moccasins were favorite foot wear for the pioneers, both men and women, and for comfort they cannot easily be surpassed, and a pretty foot never looked prettier than when dressed in a neat fitting Indian moccasin. No white person could ever give a softer finish to a deer skin than do the squaws. In this they surpass all others.

"The gathering of wild berries, and of wild rice, also contributed considerably toward supplying their wants. In summer a small patch of Indian corn, and sometimes of potatoes, would be cultivated. In this, also, the squaws performed the most of the labor, while the braves wandered off on hunting or fishing expeditions. "But few persons living in countries where a wild Indian is seldom or never seen, having anything like a correct idea of the kind of life these people really lead. Many imagine that theirs is a happy care-free life, free from all restraint, and that as he roams at will over the vast free forest of the west, his must be a life to be envied by civilized men and women. Let us look for a moment at the reality.

"In summer the Indian life may be said to be at its best, but even then hunger is not an unknown or even an unfrequent guest.. Then the Indians settle down in groups, or families, erect their wigwams, and there remain while their small patch of corn is

cultivated, berries gathered, etc. In the autumn they remove to the rice fields, which lie to the north. The wild rice forms one of the chief articles on which they subsist, and if this crop fails, as is often the case, it is the cause of great destitution and suffering. Throughout the winter the Indians are frequently on the move going to new regions in quest of game, or for other reasons. I will relate a couple or incidents which moved my heart to pity for these poor creatures:

"It was a bitter cold morning in January. A party of five or six were traveling by stage, and though thickly and comfortably clothed, and snugly tucked up with buffalo robes, all were complaining of the cold. We were passing over a bleak prairie where the wind blew a perfect gale, when we came upon a party of Indians who had just broken camp and were moving to some new locality. There were about twenty in the company, consisting of men, women and children. There were two or three Indian ponies loaded with camp equipage, and on these ponies were mounted some of the smaller children, though boys, down to the ages of eight or nine years, together with the squaws, plodded through two feet of snow as best they might, their route lying across the prairie and not in the direction the road ran. The Indians walked erect, carrying only their guns, but the squaws, and even the children, were bent down with heavy loads, carrying not only the camp supplies, but also the woven bark of which their wigwams were made, strapped upon their backs.

"The Indians were dressed in buckskin leggins with moccasins of the same material. A thin calico shirt was the only garment, from the waist up. The squaws were similarly dressed, with the addition of a woolen shirt that reached just below the knees. The heads of all were uncovered, and around the form of each was loosely drawn a large blanket, which it seemed to us might have afforded greater protection had it been more closely drawn, or secured with our own indispensable pins. The dark, slender hands of all were wholly unprotected. Two or three of the squaws had little pappooses strapped upon their backs who cried piteously, very much as a little human baby would have done.

"And this party of wanderers would plod a long until hunger and weariness would overtake them. Then, on that cold winter's day, they would scrape away the heavy snow, would undo the rolls of bark matting, which must afford but a poor protection from the cold, gather sticks and brush and build a fire, and then, after cooking and eating a simple meal, would spread their blankets and lie down on the cold, frozen ground, to sleep and rest. After thinking of all this, and of the warm fire and smoking meal that would await us at the hotel not far distant, there was not much more complaint among us.

"One chilly night, late in autumn, word was brought that a party of Indians were encamped in a grove near by. Although

there are large Indian settlements a little ways to the north, an Indian camp in our midst is sufficiently rare to attract some attention. So that evening, taking a few presents as a peace-offering, a party set out to pay the encampment a visit. A blazing fire guided us to the spot. About the fire, over which a kettle hung suspended, were a group of ten, all seated on the groundsix Indians and four squaws. The Indians were smoking their pipes with stolid countenances, while the squaws had their blankets drawn up over their heads, and their heads resting on their hands, seemed indifferent to everything in life. An effort at conversation elicited only a grunt, and a declaration in the Indian tongue that they could not speak English; a statement which we very much doubted, as it is an Indian trick to feign ignorance of our language, even when well understood. A presentation of our gifts aroused a little life, and a chatter in the Indian tongue.

The kettle was boiling slowly, and, being uncovered, was seen to contain a piece of meat, some potatoes, and some pieces of black bread, all boiling together, and would form a not unsavory meal. When cooked it would be set out on the ground, and the group squatted around would dip out morsels and eat them from their fingers. Then, with blankets drawn around them, and with heads toward the fire, and with no shelter save the cold, starry heavens, they would sleep until morning. Possibly they would partake of the remnants of last night's meal, and at early dawn would be again on the trail, and not until twenty-five or thirty miles were accomplished would they again stop to rest. Our homes never seem warmer or more comfortable, or our beds softer or more downy, than when on some cold, chilly night we think of a visit to an Indian encampment.

"Does any one wonder, with all their suffering and privation, with wars waged among them, and with the white man's 'firewater' dealing ruin and death in their midst, that he is fact dying out?

"Sometimes the savagen ature of the Indians would burst forth, like a prisoned volcano, and culminate in deeds of bloodshed and murder so horrible as to strike terror to the stoutest hearts. In recording these deeds of carnage the blame cannot be said to rest wholly upon the savages. They are generally inclined to be friendly with the whites when treated with kindness and justice. Some of their most atrocious acts of cruelty may rather be attributed to drunken frenzy, than to either injustice on the part of the whites, or savage barbarity on the part of the Indians. Of this class was one of their most fiendish murders, known as the Tea-Garden murder.

"There lived in one of the northwestern counties of Iowa a Frenchman named Tea-Garden. The country was very wild, with only a few white families scattered through a wide extent of territory. His family consisted of his wife-a very estimable woman,

and four children-two boys, aged respectively eight and . eleven years of age, a girl of six years of age, annd an infant child. Tea-Garden kept a trading post and dealt with the Indians, who were much more numerous than the whites. He soon found that although they coveted beads and other trinkets, there was one article which found much more ready sale than any other, and for which an Indian would sacrifice almost anything he possessed. This article was called in the Indian tongue 'Poch-a-ninna,' the literal signification of which is 'fire-water," in plain English, whisky. He was not a man of much principle, and though the sale of liquor to the Indians was strictly against the laws of the territory, he soon came to dispense the fiery fluid with a freedom that was in accordance with the Indians' capability of paying for it.

"But few men can handle fire-brands without themselves being scorched. But few can deal out poison without themselves feeling its direful effects, and Tea-Garden did not prove to be one of the few. Having a natural liking for the vile stuff, with him to handle was to taste, and he soon came to drink freely with his customers, be they either whites or Indians, and in a short time. he became a drunkard and a sot, with scarcely a spark of manhood left.

"He abused his family, his helpless children, and his faithful wife, who clung to what little of manhood he yet possessed. There was one of the hangers-on around this drinking place, an Irishman named Mahone who, although a good and kind-hearted man, had yielded to his appetite for liquor until he, too, had become a confirmed drunkard, and having no family ties, cared but little for anything save the gratification of his appetite for liquor.

"One day liquor had flowed more freely than usual, and as a consequence Tea-Garden had been more abusive than ever. He had beaten both his wife and his children, who cowered before his drunken wrath. In the course of their drunken revelry it was proposed that Mahone purchase Tea-Garden's wife. This was acceded to, and the price being agreed on, the money was paid over and a paper made out declaring Mahone the rightful owner of the chattel.'

"Mahone had a genuine respect for the woman, and being partially sober the next morning, approached the woman and frankly stated the bargain. Said he: 'According to the custom of this rough country, I suppose that I might claim you and make you trouble, but I wish nothing but to see you in a happier situation than you are here. You have friends to whom you can go and who will gladly receive you. Go, and I will protect you in so doing." She was glad to accept the offer, and taking the youngest child with her, went to her friends, leaving the other children until she could find means to provide for them. This explains how there came to be only drunken Indians, and whites, and small children at this trading post at the time of the tragedy.