The Adair Log Cabin.
It will be of interest to our readers to learn here that, a couple of miles from the town,—our halting place,—we passed the log cabin of the Adair family, which has such historic interest gathered about it, and which we shall have occasion to mention again later.
It so happened, as we learned afterward, that the hero of our story lodged under that roof that night. He was aroused from his slumbers and watched us from the window as we marched past,—having been reliably assured, by our advanced guard, that we were no threatening foe, but his firmest and safest friends.
A photographic view of the cabin's exterior is given on the opposite page, as it appears to-day; and nearly the same as it existed at that early date, now almost fifty years ago.
The town referred to was Osawatomie, soon to be made famous by the man who is the principal subject of these sketches.
We were challenged by friendly pickets on guard, who escorted us to the old "block-house" reared for town defense, where we were glad to find shelter, and especially to find food, for hungry we were indeed.
To what a sumptuous feast were we welcomed on that occasion! And yet, strange to relate, the recollection of it is not calculated to make one's mouth water. It so happened that a side of bacon and a barrel of hardtack were stored there, for just such emergencies as the present one, and these were now pressed into our service.
Their edible condition was such as naturally to suggest certain Scripture phrases as descriptive thereof;—of the bacon, "ancient of days"; and of the biscuit, "fullness of life." As we crunched the latter between our teeth, the peculiar, fresh, sweet-and-bitter taste, commingling at every mouthful, told us too well of the "life" ensconced therein. No comments were made, however, except the ejaculation occasionally, by one and another, "Wormy!" " Wormy!"
However, nothing daunted, we paused not in our eating till our ravenous hunger was appeased. And then, on the bare floor of boards, rived roughly out of forest trees,—though it was a little difficult to fit our forms to their ridges and hollows,—we gained a few hours of as sweet and refreshing slumber as ever visited mortal eyes.