We had to content ourselves with writing to our friends at the east to interest themselves in getting a missionary sent to us, who should officiate as chaplain in the garrison, a plan that seemed to find favor with the officers. The hope of any united religious services was, for the present, laid aside.
The post-surgeon having obtained a furlough, his place was supplied by Dr. Newhall, of Galena, and thus, by the addition of his gentle, quiet wife, our circle of ladies was now enlarged to three. Here we were, in a wilderness, but yet how contented and happy!
A gloom was soon to replace this envied tranquillity in our home. A Frenchman, named Letendre, one day suddenly presented himself. He had come from Chicago, with the distressing intelligence of the extreme, indeed hopeless illness of our dear relative. Dr. Wolcott. My husband immediately commenced his preparations for instant departure. I begged to be permitted to accompany him, but the rapidity with which he proposed to journey obliged him to refuse my entreaties. In a few hours his provisions, horses, and all other things necessary for the journey were in readiness, and he set off with Petaille Grignon, his usual attendant on such expeditions, leaving Letendre to follow as soon as recruited from his fatigue.
Sad and dreary were the hours of his absence, notwithstanding the kind efforts of our friends to cheer me. In a few days I received the news of the fatal termination of Dr. W.'s illness, brought by another messenger. That noble heart, so full of warm and kindly affections, had ceased to beat, and sad and desolate, indeed, were those who had so loved and honored him.
As soon as he could possibly leave his family, my husband returned, and it was fortunate that he had delayed no longer, for the winter now began to set in, and with severity.
Our quarters were spacious, but having been constructed of the green trees of the forest, cut down and sawed into boards by the hands of the soldiers, they were considerably given to shrinking and warping, thus leaving many a yawning crevice. Stuffing the cracks with cotton batting, and pasting strips of paper over them, formed the employment of many a leisure hour.
Then the chimneys, spite of all the currents of air, which might have been expected to create a draught, had a sad habit of smoking. To remedy this, a couple of gun-barrels had been sawed off and inserted in the hearth, one on each side of the fire place, in the hope that the air from the room below might help to carry the smoke into its proper place, the chimney.
The next morning after this had been done, Louisa was washing the hearth.
“Pray, ma’am,” said she, “what are these things put in here for?”
I explained their use.