I was admitted to the bar in the fall of 1850. Under the laws of Michigan at that time, admission to the bar was not necessary to practice law in that State, but it was the usual and dignified course. The class seeking admission was quite a large one; most of them, in fact all of them save myself, were old lawyers seeking admission in the regular and time-sanctified order. An afternoon was given by Judge Wing, who presided, for the hearing of the petition of the applicants. The Judge and the Bar were the examiners. They all took a free hand. I thought I could discover a disposition on the part of the Judge and the Bar to put the old practitioners, whose knowledge of elementary principles had been somewhat dimmed by the lapse of years, at a disadvantage as compared with the accuracy of a young man fresh from the books. Hence, many questions were rushed to me for a full and accurate statement of the text-books, which in most cases I was able to give, to the manifest pleasure of the examiners. We were all admitted. In anticipation of so propitious a result, we had provided a banquet for Bench and Bar. At its conclusion the Judge said, "a motion for a new trial would be in order, and if such motion was made he would take it under advisement till the next term of the court, when he had but little doubt that it would be granted."
After my admission to the Bar I diligently continued my legal studies, confining myself, however, almost exclusively to American Reports and authors, such as Kent's Commentaries; Story on the Constitution, on Equity Jurisprudence and Pleadings; Greenlief on Evidence; Gould on the Form and the Logic of Pleadings; Bishop on Criminal Law; and many others. I have continued this extensive reading during all of my professional career when books were at hand. Looking back from a standpoint of eighty years' time, I am satisfied that I have read too much, and reflected, reasoned, analyzed, generalized and thoroughly digested too little. I often think of the saying of Locke, the philosopher, that if he had read as much as other men he would have known as little as they. There is much truth in this statement. To read without thought, without reflection, without analysis and a thorough digest of what one reads, is a waste of time. More, it weakens the memory, does not accumulate knowledge, and incapacitates the mind for serious work. While I have no admiration for a correctly-styled "case lawyer," yet, were I to live my professional career over again, I would get my legal principles from a small but well-selected library of authors of established repute; and then I would consult leading cases on each topic or subject, as a help for their proper and logical application. The practice of law consists in the application of a well-defined legal principle to a certain combination of facts. Whether the principle applies is a question for the courts; whether the facts that enter into the definition exist is a question for the jury. But, as I am not writing a legal treatise, I leave the topic here.
My father caught the gold fever, and early in the spring of 1849 started with an ox-team across the plains to the gold-fields of California. He returned in the winter of 1851-2, having been moderately successful. For many years I had been a sufferer from neuralgia. Its painful development was in the forehead. I was a pale and emaciated specimen of the genus homo, weighing less than 150 pounds. My father was of the opinion that the air of the Pacific Coast was rich in ozone, and his physical appearance indicated that his judgment was sound. "Go west, my son," he said; "go to Oregon—not to California—for you would amount to nothing as a miner. You will be subject to a continual alkaline bath on the plains, and this will prepare you for the renovating effects of the salubrious air of the Pacific Coast." My father was not a physician, but I readily consented to take his prescription, provided he would pay the doctor's bill. This he willingly consented to do. I soon found three other young men who had the Oregon fever in its incipient stages. It soon became fixed and constitutional, and they determined to go. A wagon was soon constructed under my father's direction—light but strong, with a bed water-tight and removable, so that it could be used as a boat for ferrying purposes; a strong cover for the wagon, and a tent which in case of storm could be fastened to the wagon to supplement the effectiveness of the cover. Each furnished a span of light, tough and dark-colored horses. White was not allowed on account of their alleged want of toughness and durability. Each was allowed two full suits of clothes and no more, and two pair of double blankets and no more. The object was to prevent overloading. Each was to have a rifle or shotgun, or both, and a pistol and sheath-knife. I am thus particular, because in this day of railroads and Pullman cars, these things are fast passing from memory.
On the first of March, 1852, we left Sturgis, Michigan. Our first point of destination was Cainesville on the Missouri River. We did our own cooking and slept in our wagon when the weather was clement; at hotels and farm houses when it was inclement. None of us had ever tried our hand at cooking before, and our development along that line had a good deal of solid fact, and but little poetry in it. We could put more specific gravity into a given bulk of bread than any scientific cook on earth. Taken in quantity, it would test the digestive energies of an ostrich; but we took it in homeopathic doses. We lived in the open air and survived, as our knowledge of the culinary art rapidly increased. The moral of this mournful tale is:—mothers, teach your sons to do at least ordinary cooking; they may many times bless you in the ever-shifting, and strenuous conflict of life.
I was born and reared in a cold climate; but when the mercury fell, the atmosphere lost its moisture; and while the wind was fierce and biting, it was dry. You can protect yourself against such cold; but when you come to face the cold, damp, fierce and penetrating winds that sweep over the prairies of Illinois and Iowa when winter is departing, they find you, and chill you through any kind or reasonable quantity of clothing.
On account of snow-storms we stopped for a week, in the latter part of March, at a farm-house in the outer settlements of Iowa. The people were intelligent and refined. Our hostess had two lovely daughters, and we young men were at home. Prairie chickens were very abundant in the vicinity, and with my shotgun I more than kept the family supplied while there. Our hostess was a good cook and we lived high. A short distance away was a log school-house also used for a church, and we accompanied the family to church on Sunday. The minister was a Methodist circuit-rider; and while he was not an eloquent man and did not, like Wirt's blind preacher, in the wilds of Virginia, tell us with streaming eyes that "Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God," yet with force and emphasis he preached Christ and Him crucified for a sinful world. This was the first church service we had attended since leaving home, and it gave us all a touch of homesickness.
As soon as the storm abated and the weather gave indications of more sunshine and less downpour, we bade adieu to our hostess and her fair daughters, and journeyed slowly onward over horrid roads towards Cainesville. We arrived at this bustling outfitting town on the 23rd of April. We found there a large number of persons and prairie schooners, but most of them were on a voyage to the gold-fields of California. By diligent inquiry I found seventeen wagons, with an average of four persons to the wagon, whose destination was Oregon. We agreed to cross the Missouri River on the 2nd day of May, and on the afternoon of that day we were all safely landed on the western shore. We were now beyond the realm of social constraint, conventional usage, and the reign of the law. It was interesting to me to note the effect of this condition upon a few men in our party. They seemed to exult in their so-called freedom. They spoke of the restraining influence of organized society as tyranny, and of the government of law as government by force. A meeting for organization was called for that evening. I was elected chairman, and in response to a request for my views, I said, that we on the morrow were to start on a journey of over two thousand miles through an Indian country; and while it was reported that the tribes through whose country we were to pass were at peace with the whites, yet it was a sound maxim, in the time of peace to be prepared for war; and that our safety, and that of our property, depended upon our strictness, watchfulness and unity of action, and these beneficial results could only be secured by organization; hence I proposed that, without being myself a candidate for any position and not desiring any, we organize ourselves into a semi-military company by the election of a captain and a first and second lieutenant. A motion was made in accordance with the views expressed by me, and seconded; I declared it open for discussion. One of the persons mentioned above, who thought he had just enhaled the air of perfect freedom, arose and said that he was opposed to the motion; he did not propose to be lorded over by any one; he would be governed by his own judgment and wishes. I replied that we did not propose to lord it over any one, but to govern in all ordinary matters by common consent, and in all matters by the laws of safety and decent morals. The motion was put and it was carried with only five dissenting votes. A vote was taken by ballot for Captain, and to my astonishment I received all the votes but two—one of which was cast by myself for a gentleman who had crossed the plains and who had returned to the States to get married, and, having accomplished that purpose, was returning with his wife and an unmarried sister of hers to his home in Oregon City; the other vote, presumptively, was cast by a gentleman that, on account of his military appearance and the arsenal of weapons which he carried on his person, and his alleged thirst for Indian blood, we styled Colonel. As the Colonel was an open candidate for the office, the opinion prevailed that he had voted for himself. The first and second lieutenants were soon elected and a quasi-military organization was soon formed. The first lieutenant was unpopular with the men. He was a good man, but possessed no fitness for the position; he had much of the fortiter in re, but none of the suaviter in modo. The second lieutenant was a doctor by profession and was eminently fitted for the position; he was calm, cool in danger, discreet in words and action, and courageous in conduct. Thus equipped, the next morning at eight o'clock we rolled out and made about twenty miles; we camped on a plateau covered with grass and by a brooklet of pure, cold spring water. The second and third days were but repetitions of the first. The fourth day we reached the Loup Fork, a large tributary of the Platte. We ferried over it successfully and resumed our journey across the valley of rather low but rich land, still covered in places with a mass of tall dry grass, the fading glory of last year's beneficence. We were in the Pawnee country. When we were about two and one-half or three miles from the river, from seventy-five to a hundred Indians arose suddenly out of the grass, stopped our teams, and by their unearthly yelling came near stampeding our horses. We were caught unprepared. We did not expect to meet hostiles, or even troublesome Indians within an hundred miles of the Missouri River. Many of the guns were not loaded. A lame chief, pretty well dressed in buck-skin, with a sword by his side, a pistol in his belt, a fine rifle in his hand, and a photograph of ex-President Fillmore, in a metallic frame, on his breast, was in command of the Indians. He, and three subordinate chiefs were standing near the head of the train, and I sent the doctor—the second lieutenant—and another discreet person to confer with them and ascertain what this meant. The other Indians in open order extended the full length of the train, and were about five rods away. All had bows and arrows or firearms. They used the weapons in their movements, with incessant yelling, in a menacing manner. All things being in readiness, I went to where the doctor and his companions and the chiefs were, near the head of the train. I asked the doctor what they wanted. He answered that they wanted one cow brute, a large quantity of sugar, tobacco and corn, for the privilege of crossing their country. They were in a squatting position, marking on the ground the boundaries of the country claimed by them. I told the doctor that we had no cow brute and could not give one; that we had but little sugar and tobacco, and could spare none; that if they wanted corn to plant, we would give them a sack of shelled corn, and no more. They understood what I said, and quickly sprang to their feet and covered the doctor and myself with their guns. I had a double-barreled shotgun by my side. I seized it; but before I could get it into position, the muzzles of the guns were lowered, the yelling ceased, and the sack of corn was accepted as toll. This was to me a new and rather startling application of the doctrine of posse comitatus for the enforcement of an unadjudicated demand; but I have since learned that civilized nations use battleships and cannon for that purpose.
The great Carlyle declares that if a person possess a quality in a high degree, whether that quality be mental or physical, he is unconscious of the fact; but if he be deficient in any quality, either moral or physical, he is always conscious of the deficiency; and, seeming to act on the supposition that what he feels so distinctly, he fears others might perceive, he is constantly hedging: therefore, a dishonest man is always talking about his honesty, and a coward about his bravery. All the men of our company behaved well but one, and that one was "the Colonel." I cannot refrain from recalling an incident connected with him. I have mentioned the unmarried lady who was accompanying her sister to her Western home. She was sitting in the wagon with the reins in her hand and a pistol in her lap, during all the excitement and uproar. As I passed up and down the train, I saw the Colonel, either at the rear or on the side of the wagons, away from the yelling Indians. The last time I passed the wagon, the Colonel stuck his head out from the opposite side and asked, "What are you going to do, Captain?" I said, "Fight, sir, if necessary." The young lady, looking at him, exclaimed: "Yes, sir; fight if necessary. Get on the other side of the wagon; be a man!" Although the Colonel subsequently, by his conduct at Shell Creek, partially redeemed his reputation, yet the insinuating jeers of the men, as to which was the safer side of the wagon, kept him in hot water, and, taking my advice, he left the train after the passage of Shell Creek, at the first opportunity. It was a good riddance, for a coward driven to bay, and constantly wounded by the shafts of ridicule, is dangerous.
Our toll having been paid and the excitement having abated, we resumed our journey across the Loup Fork valley and over the slightly elevated high land that separate its waters from the Platte. We descended from this high land by an easy grade, and made an early camp. Wood, water and grass were abundant.
We knew that a large ox-train, consisting of forty wagons or more and known as the Hopkins train, would cross the Loup Fork the next morning. There were quite a number of women and children in the train; hence our gallantry, as well as our bravery, prompted assistance. Further, we had concluded that it was wise to travel in larger bodies through the country of the Pawnees. According to our estimate, this train would arrive at the danger point, or toll gate, between ten and eleven o'clock a. m. Thirty of us volunteered to go back, to assist in case of difficulty. We were mostly mounted and ready for the start, when we saw a horseman rapidly approaching us, and we rode out to meet him. He told us that the Hopkins train had been attacked by the Indians, that two of his company had been seriously, if not mortally, wounded; and he asked for a doctor. The doctor was with us and readily consented to go, after returning to the wagon for instruments and medicine he might need. The rest of dashed up the gentle slope—hurry-scurry, pell-mell. At the top we slackened our speed for observation. We saw that the Indians had abandoned the conflict and were hurrying to the river, on the further side of which was their village. The occasional puff and report of a white man's rifle, at long and ineffective range, no doubt quickened their speed. We struck out on an acute angle to cut them off from the river, but failed. Those in boats had either reached or were near the other shore, some three or four hundred yards away; those in the water swam with the current and were practically out of danger: the boys, however, took some shots at the retreating heads. I think no Indian was killed or wounded by the shooting, but some of the boys were of a different opinion. We were at the river bank but a short time; but before we left it, the lame chief and his two subalterns, mentioned above, came down to the opposite shore, raised their hands to show that they had no weapons, then jumped into a canoe and rapidly crossed the river to us. They asked permission to go up with us to see their dead and to care for their wounded. The chief said five Indians were dead and many wounded. We saw but three dead and two slightly wounded. Two white men were wounded—one with a flint-headed arrow in the chest, the other shot with a large ball through the fleshy part of the thigh close to the bone. Although the arrow-head had entered the chest cavity, it had not pierced any vital organ, and recovery was rapid; the other wound was of a complex character, which I cannot mention, and was dangerous if not mortal. This man was slowly recovering, however, while he remained with us and under the doctor's assiduous care. What the final result was I never knew. The wounded having been attended to, the train was soon on the move for our camp. After a consultation held that evening, it was agreed that we should travel together through the Pawnee country, and that I should have general control of our united forces.