A Little Girl in Old Chicago

by Amanda M. Douglas

I was amazed to see animosities settle so soon and the men who had threatened to "blow off each other's heads" smoked the pipe of peace around the tavern stove. They were really country taverns, where neighbors came for a friendly gossip, even if they did drink a little whiskey and bet on a game of cards.

I think Mr. Harris was very much interested in furthering my turn for knowledge. He lent me books, he asked me to spend the evenings with him. He had a nice cheerful room with a married sister. He had several volumes of poetry that I borrowed for the Little Girl. Oh, what delight we took in "Percy's Reliques" and some of the old ballad singers!

She grew very slowly, it seemed to me, but then we were such big fellows. Homer went to a carpenter to learn a trade, building being considered a very good business. He was fully as tall as I, but he had no especial taste for books, though he was very quick and ingenious, and full of fun and frolic. There were dances once a fortnight in one of the rooms at the old fort, which was put to various uses, now that the Government had removed the troops. The court was held there, commissioners met to confer and ordain, pay taxes and make complaints. Everybody had a curious sympathetic feeling about it, as if it was in some sort a monument that commemorated the massacre. For some time after the treaty, when the Government purchased their lands, they distributed goods to the Indians every year. This was on the prairie, on the west side of the river, and we used to make it quite a holiday. The Indians sat around in a circle with the squaws behind them. There was a great pile of goods which the traders and some of the half-breeds began to distribute. At first the row of Indians was quite orderly. Then dissatisfaction would begin and they would rise to their knees, gesticulating and vociferating their mixed gibberish until it seemed they might break out into open war. Then there would be a general scramble, the squaws throwing back articles they did not care for and seizing a lot, that, perhaps, gave them no greater satisfaction.

The day ended by a big fire kindled far enough from the wigwams to escape the danger of conflagration, and the braves would dance around it in a furious manner. Occasionally there were brawls for several days, which culminated in killing a number, and many of the braves would part with their goods to whoever would trade whiskey for them, though this had to be done underhand.

All Chicago was glad and relieved when they were removed to their allotment. Forty ox teams carried the children and the baggage, while the braves and squaws marched leisurely, encamping for the night, and were nearly a month reaching their journey's end.

We were not rid of all the Indians, however. There were some who preferred semi-civilization and whiskey, and not a few half-breeds whose descendants were to be proud of their Indian blood in after years. There had been mixed marriages, mostly French traders, with Indian wives, and some of these made worthy citizens.

One of the Ottawa chiefs, who had prevented a massacre, after the defeat of Mayor Stillman's force, still remained in a noted place called Shabbona's Grove. Shabbonee kept the respect and friendship of the whites, and was quite a power in quelling disputes among his own nation. While most of the savages in our vicinity were not such as to inspire one with even tolerant sympathy, he was more like the heroes of romance that have been handed down to us from our forefathers. A broad-shouldered, stalwart specimen of his tribe, with a more intelligent face and strength of feature and character than even the average.

Times were very hard and through the winter little could be doing. Plans there were in abundance. Men lingered in the warm shelter of the warehouse and wrangled, of course. I think now it was the foreshadowing of "bulls and bears" that were to dominate the town in the years to come. One party drew roseate pictures of the possibilities of the coming Chicago. We were to be the centre of trade—we were between the east and the west, not only that, but there was Canada and the lakes and the mineral wealth of upper Michigan, the boundless prairies.

And the others sneered at the mud hole and saw dozens of ways in which trade could be diverted. The canal wouldn't ever be finished, the towns along the Mississippi had the start of us and would keep it. Cities would spring up along its banks as if by magic. There was the gathering trade centring in the mighty gulf, the outlet to France and England, even to the Coast States. What could we produce to compete with them! Would the great cities of the east be generous enough to fall back and beckon us on? Trade looked out for itself first of all.

I used to repeat these arguments to Mr. Gaynor. Sometimes when he wanted to go out of an evening he asked me to drop in so that Ruth would not be left alone. The handmaid, Melissa Hatch, had married and rejoiced in a two-room shanty of her own, but did not disdain coming in for a few hours daily and taking the rough work. They were rather gay and spent their evenings card playing and dancing with their neighbors. Fiddling was a common accomplishment. The dancing was more of the jig, or breakdown, order. Two people would dance to each other, executing all sorts of fancy steps, then turn to the next couple and pair off, and so on until they had gone around the room. If there were not more than four people they seemed to have just as merry a time. Then a little hot whiskey, and to home and to bed. No midnight dissipations for them.