“There were two reasons: First, the country was easily excited at the time, and on that account, when the danger was passed, it was thought best to say nothing, and all who knew of it had been put upon their honor not to disclose it. Second, it could not be verified as to the co-conspirators in Maryland and Virginia, and the plan agreed upon by them, without involving a man heretofore mentioned, in high position among the very persons who were conspiring to do the deed. His exposure would doubtless have cost him his life; and I hope you will not now ask me to say whether he is living or dead.”
“I will inquire no further on this subject,” said Dr. Adams, “but would like to know what became of the Black Hills scheme?”
“That scheme failed at or about the same time of the collapse of the new rebellion.
“Time passed, and finally the country got rid of this President by electing the General of the Army. We all, or many of us at least, breathed more freely. The reorganization of the South became a fixed fact, and the machinery moved smoothly for awhile. My son Henry was still anxious to go to work and try his fortune in the Black Hills country. About this time his wife bore him a fine son. He therefore left her with me and started fortune hunting.
“Gen. Anderson made a visit to his old home in Mississippi and was, to all outward appearance, well received. He returned home, and, after talking the matter over with his wife, they thought it would be safe to return. The Union men were at that time in power in Mississippi, and many Northern people were flocking there and purchasing property. Very soon the General and his family got ready to leave Allentown for Jackson, Miss. When the time came for them to leave, the sorrow with us all was very great. Mary Anderson and Seraine wept, and held to one another, instinctively fearing that this separation was forever. The two children, little Mary and Jennie, shrieked and screamed, and begged not to be separated. The scene was heartrending. I felt as though my last friend was leaving me. The General and I acted like children. We both wept and embraced each other—neither could speak. I held poor little Mary in my arms and bathed her blessed cheeks with my tears. Old Ham and Aunt Martha would go with 'Marsa Gen'l' They both wept and heaped blessings upon us all. As far off as we could see the poor old people, they were bowing and bidding us good-by. God bless their poor souls; they were as good and as kind a couple as ever lived!
“Seraine and I had procured good help before they left, and were, in that particular, in excellent shape; but when the General, his wife, little Mary and the old couple left, it was desolate, sure enough. We were lonely in the extreme. We had been so long together, and had passed through so many trials, had grieved, and had experienced so many sorrows together, that no one could describe our feelings. The General, however, felt that he could do well again at his old home, and he thought the people down there were reconstructed and satisfied with their wrong course.
“I spent most of my time out at the farm. I would take my Jennie, as I called my granddaughter, with me and explain everything to her, as much to employ my own mind as hers. Henry wrote us very often. He was delighted with the country and was doing quite well; had made money, and was investing it in property in Yankton. Seraine's father and mother visited us frequently, and we were living as happily as we could under all the circumstances.
“In a few months Gen. Anderson visited us. He was feeling satisfied with his home and was doing well. He gave a glowing description of old Ham and Aunt Martha's happiness now that they could see other colored people. The President had offered him (Anderson) a foreign mission, which he had declined on account of his fine prospects in his profession in Mississippi.
“The next year after Henry left us he returned, but was determined to make his new home his permanent one, and insisted on Jennie and I going with him. He said he would not leave us alone, and would stay in Indiana if we could not go with him and Seraine. He could not think of leaving Seraine and his fine baby boy any more. I thought I ought not to interfere with the boy's prospects, so I agreed to go with them. I rented my house, made arrangements about the farm, and we all left for Yankton. Henry had purchased a nice place, and we lived there very happily together. We kept up our correspondence with Gen. Anderson and his family.
“One day Henry came into the house very much excited, saying that he had just seen Wintergreen on the street, who pretended not to recognize him. The town was settling up and growing very fast. Many people from the South were coming into the Territory as well as the town. I told Henry to beware of this man; that he, knowing that Henry had his secrets, might, through fear, if nothing else, do him some harm. One day there were quite a number of persons near a billiard hall, in a dispute about some matter. Wintergreen was in the midst of the crowd. Henry stepped up out of curiosity to ascertain the cause of the trouble. Wintergreen spied him, drew his revolver, and shot him dead.'