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Brigham’s Destroying Angel

CHAPTER VI.

FROM 1858 TO 1865.

MURDER OF FRANKLIN M’NEAL—STEALING GOVERNMENT STOCK—FIGHT WITH THE THIEVES—HUNTINGTON SHOOTS HICKMAN—BARBAROUS SURGERY—ATTEMPT TO KILL HICKMAN—KILLING OF JOE RHODES—HICKMANS PROPERTY “CONFISCATED”—DEPARTURE OF THE ARMY—CAMP FLOYD—GOV. CUMMING LEAVES—GOV. DAWSON ARRIVES—HIS FLIGHT—OUTRAGE BY THE “MORMON BOYS”—DELIGHT OF THE PEOPLE—MURDER OF THE PRISONERS—JASON LUCE—HICKMAN GOES TO MONTANA—INDIAN TROUBLES—RESCUES A TRAIN—ARRIVAL OF GEN. CONNOR AND GOV. HARDING—CRUEL TREATMENT OF THE MORRTISITES—HICKMAN BECOMES GEN. CONNOR’S GUIDE-CONNOR AND HICKMAN INAUGURATE MINING IN UTAH—BRIGHAM YOUNG OFFERS HICKMAN $1,000 TO KILL GEN. CONNOR—HICKMAN IN TROUBLE—HE FLIES TO NEVADA—TERRORS BY THE WAY—FOLLOWED BY THE DANITES, BUT ESCAPES—RETURNS, AND SUFFERS FROM MORMON HOSTILITY.

     Winter came on, times were lively, and money plenty. One McNeal, who was arrested in the winter of ’57, when he came from Bridger to Salt Lake City, for the purpose of making a living, and kept in custody some three or four months by order of Gov. Brigham Young, instituted a suit before the United States district court against Brigham to the amount of, I think, ten thousand dollars. McNeal came to the city from Camp Floyd during the winter, and word was sent to the boys, as the killers were called, to give him a using up. The word was sent around after dark, but McNeal could not be found that night, and the next morning he was off to camp again, and did not return until the next summer. I came to town one afternoon, and heard he was upstairs at Sterritt’s tavern, drunk. Darkness came on and we got the chamber-pot taken out of his room, so that he would in all probability come down when he awoke with whisky dead in him. Some five or six were on the look-out for him, and among the number was one Joe Rhodes, not a Mormon, but a cut-throat and a thief, who had had some serious difficulty with McNeal, and was sworn to shoot him, and I thought it best to let him do it. Some three or four were sitting alongside the tavern when he came down, it being dark and no lights in front. Rhodes followed him around the house and shot him in the alley. McNeal shot at Rhodes once, but missed him. McNeal lived until the next day, and died, not knowing who shot him; neither did any other person, except those who sat by the side of the tavern. It made considerable stir, but no detection could be made as to who did it. All passed off, and one day when at Brigham Young’s office, he asked me who killed McNeal. I told him, and he said that was a good thing; that dead men tell no tales. The law-suit was not prosecuted any further. At this time there was considerable stock-stealing from the Government, and, in fact, all over the country, from both Gentiles and Mormons. I did all I could to get those whom I knew of, or was acquainted with, to quit and behave themselves; but it seemed to have no effect. I threatened to get after them if they did not stop. Some then quit it, but others continued, and swore it was none of my business. A few of them took thirty head of mules from a Government freighter and started for southern California; got one hundred and fifty miles on their road, when they were overtaken and brought back by Porter Rockwell and others. As the freighter only wanted his mules, the thieves were turned loose. I was accused of finding this out and sending after them, and shortly afterward seven of them caught me in the edge of town and surrounded me, swearing they would shoot me for having them captured. Three pistols were cocked on me. I tried to argue the case with them, but the more I said the worse they raged, until I thought they would shoot me anyhow. The crowd consisted of about half Gentiles and half Mormons. Believing that shooting was about to commence, and seeing no other show but death or desperation, I jerked a revolver from each side of my belt, cocked them as they came out, and, with one in each hand, told them if fight was what they must have, to turn loose; that I was ready for them, and wanted just such a one as they were able to give. I cursed them for cowards and thieves: when they weakened and became quite reasonable. This all passed off, but I could hear of threats being made by them every few days; when one day I came to town and met Mr. Gerrish, of the well-known firm of Gilbert & Gerrish, who said: “I was just going to send for you; we had seventeen head of horses and mules taken out of our corral last night.”

Thieves attempting to kill Hickman-who, with a revolver in each hand-wants “as
good a fight as they are able to give.” Page 142.

     I told him it had been done by some of the Johnson gang, and I would travel around, town and see them; that they were a set of rascals, and I would try bribery. I found this Joe Rhodes of whom I have spoken. He denied knowing anything about them. I told him I would give him fifty dollars if he would tell me where they were. He then asked if I would betray him to the others that were concerned in it. I told him I would not. He then told me if I would give him fifty dollars down, and fifty dollars more when the animals were recovered, he would tell me, and I would be sure to get them. I saw Gerrish, and he told me to go ahead and use my own judgment about them. I paid Rhodes the $50; he then told me they were about fifteen miles away on the river, hid in the bush, and would be there until after dark; then they intended running them south and keeping away from the settlements, and so get them through to California. He described the place so that there could be no trouble to find it. Knowing of the antipathy of the gang against me, I sent two men, who found the stock at the place described, and no one with them, and brought them to the owners. The gang was very angry at this, and swore they would kill the man that had betrayed them. Not many days after this, the traitor to his own party, Rhodes, said I had played him, and he unthoughtedly had told me something about the animals, but thought as they were Gentiles I would say nothing about it. This was enough—he never told them. that he had done it and got a $100 for doing so. They commenced watching for me, and I for them. One Christmas day following I went to the city, all the time watching this party. I stepped through an alley while waiting for our teams. This was their chance. Some half a dozen of them, well whiskied, met me; only one of my friends seeing them. The only brave man amongst them drew his revolver and attempted to shoot me. I caught his pistol, and would have killed him with my knife, but the scoundrels shouted, “Don’t kill him! don’t kill him!” and stepped up and took hold of him. I did not want to kill him. I had known him from a boy, and had previously liked him; but these scamps had roped him in, and were shoving him into places where they dare not go. I did not see who all the crowd were, but saw two other revolvers drawn on me. This friend of mine says to them: “Don’t shoot; if you do, I will kill you.” I let Huntington go, supposing his friends would take care of him, as he was the aggressor, and I had spared his life. I put my knife back in the scabbard, and turned to look for Huntington, when I saw him leveling his revolver on me, not more than ten feet off; I gave my body a swing as he fired, and the ball struck my watch, which was in my pants’ pocket, glanced, and struck me in the thigh, went to the bone, and passed around on the side of it. I then drew my pistol; but before I could fire he shot again, and started to run, I shot him as he ran, in the hip, and the ball passed into his thigh; but he kept running. I followed him up the street and shot at him four times more, but did not hit him. I was taken to a house, and Dr. * * * and another, the two best Mormon surgeons in the city, were sent for. They split the flesh on the inside and outside of my thigh to the bone. hunting the ball, and finally concluded they could not find it, then went away and reported I would die sure. I sent for other physicians, and the next morning when they came to see me, I told them I had no further use for them, as my thigh swelled and inflamed so that ice had to he kept on it most of the time for three weeks. Then Dr. Hobbs, of the U. S. Army, a cousin of my wife, came to see me, bringing with him a board of physicians from Camp Floyd. They examined my leg, and pronounced the surgery which had been performed on me a dirty piece of butchery, and said: “Were it not out of respect to the profession, we would say they had poisoned it.” But when it was finally opened, behold! out of it came a dirty green piece of cotton, saturated with something, I do not know what, which the butchers had left in it weeks before! No wonder they were sure I would die, after leaving that in my leg. While in this situation, these thieves continued their threats to make a break into the house where I laid helpless, and make a finish of me. This Rhodes was the one appointed to do that, as was told on the streets. Rhodes had become obnoxious to all but his party of thieves. He got drunk one day, and swore he would finish me before he slept. I had good and trusty men staying with me constantly. Rhodes came, as he had said, and wanted to go into the room where I was, but was told that he could not. He swore he would, drew two revolvers, and swore nobody could hinder him. He started for the door, and Jason Luce ran a bowie-knife through him, he fell on the floor, and never spoke. This was the end of Joe Rhodes. Luce was tried and acquitted.

     I lay in the city three months and was given up to die. I finally was hauled home, but was not able to go on crutches for six months, and never expected to get over it, as I have twice come near dying with it since. I had the fall before bought a few hundred head of oxen which had hauled freight across the plains. My stock was neglected, and I lost a good number of them while I was lying wounded. There was little attention paid to any violation of law there, unless it was a case that was prosecuted by some of the principal men of the city. This ease of mine passed unnoticed by the law; and the general saving was: “It was a pity to have a difficulty amongst our own people.”

     The summer following—’59—the troops were to move from Camp Floyd, and a sale was made of almost every thing except ammunition, which was destroyed. The property sold very low—flour, by the 100-pound sack, 50 cents; bacon, one-fourth of a cent per pound; whisky, 25 cents per gallon; and other things in proportion. I bought ten wagon-loads. The barracks were sold to those who pulled them down and hauled away the lumber; and there has not been a house in the old barracks for eight or nine years. The little settlement adjoining across the creek, known as the town of Fairfield, is a nice little village, but is called Camp Floyd, which is my present residence, and has been for the last four years, ever since I left my place ten miles south of Salt Lake City. There was rejoicing when the troops left the territory. They had come here, spent a great quantity of money, and went away without hurting anybody—a victory, of course.

     Gov. Cumming left the next spring, ’60. The next fall another was appointed—Gov. Dawson—who, after being here a few months, was said to have used some seductive language to a woman in the city, which raised great indignation against him. He became alarmed, and made preparations to leave, and a company of the young roughs were selected to follow him out and give him a beating. Five went ahead to the mail station and awaited his arrival, and when he came they gave him a tremendous beating; it is said he died from the effects. it was known the next day in town, and most of the people rejoiced over the beating the Governor had got.

     This continued for several days, until the word had reached the States, which made a terrible stink on the Mormons, about the manner in which they had treated the Government official. The newspapers teemed with Mormon outrages. This changed things, and then Brigham Young on the stand gave the men who had beaten the Governor an awful raking down, and said that they ought to have their throats cut. Two of them were arrested and put in prison, and he forbid any person bailing them out. They went for two more, and they fled, taking with them another man, a friend of theirs. They were followed about seventy-five miles; one of them refused to be taken, and he was shot with a load of buckshot, and only lived a few minutes. The other two were captured and brought to the city, showing no resistance.

     They reached the city in the night and were given to the police to put them in prison. While going to the prison they were both shot dead, and the cry was raised that they undertook to get away. That was nonsense. They were both powder-burnt, and one of them was shot in the face. How could that be, and they running? This went down well enough with some; but it was too plain a case with thinking men, and especially those who knew the manner in which those men did such things. A great blow was made as a set-off, how the people killed all who would treat Government officials as these had the Governor—innocence was declared by everybody but the gang who had done it, and three of them were killed, and they said they wished the others to share the same fate. After the other two had been in prison about two months, I went and bailed Jason Luce out. The other got bail in a few days. I then learned all the particulars. Jason told me that he was called on by Bob Golden, who was captain of the police, constable, and deputy sheriff, to go in the country with the others and give the Governor a good beating. Golden said he had his instructions what to have done. Luce went to obey orders, expecting to be protected if any trouble should arise from it, he himself having nothing against the Governor, and did not so much as know him. Luce did not like his treatment, and made a business of telling how the affair was. This got Golden down on him, and from that time it seemed that his destruction was sought.*
(*See Appendix-L.)

     These things caused a division in feeling among the people; not open, but there was much private talk about such a course of things, which exists until this day. Many of the thinking better class of the people are disgusted with the abominable course taken by the so-called officials, killing off far better boys than their own or many that roamed the country. But their idea was to kill those they did not like, whether guilty of anything or not, as has been done to hide their own crimes, as well as to vent their spite, regardless of right or wrong. This dirty gang of the so-called police commenced about this time, and have done so well they have been kept in office ever since. I will say more about them when I come to the year of their actions.

     There was nothing uncommon transpired in ’60-’61 more than every once in a while, somebody being killed—some Mormons and some Gentiles—some, it was said, was for stealing and some for seduction, while some of the greatest scoundrels ran untouched. They were good fellows, counsel-obeying curses, and had their friends.

     In the summer of ’62 I went to Montana after some Flathead Indian horses I had bought the year before off the old mountaineer, Bob Dempsey; and that year the Indians were very bad, killing off several trains that were going to California and Oregon on the route north of Salt Lake. This year there was a great cry of big gold diggings on Salmon River, and a good-sized emigration started to that place. I started in company with two boys from here and six Californians, and fell in with a company of forty from Colorado seventy-five miles north on our road. We organized and traveled together. I was unanimously chosen to take charge or the company. We traveled to Deer-lodge Valley in Montana in peace, had a good, jovial set of men and no difficulty. Here we learned that the Salmon River diggings, where the gold was, was four hundred miles further off! Several hundred were alike fooled: some went one way and some another, while about one-third commenced prospecting in that country for gold. We organized in three companies, twenty or thirty in a company, to go in different directions. The company I was in found gold in different places, but not in paying quantities.

     I got my horse off Dempsey, and concluded to return home; got on my road, prospecting along the way, when word came that gold had been found in great quantities where East Bannack City now is. I wanted to stop and work awhile, but could not prevail on the five men that were going to Salt Lake to wait; and not knowing any other company going that fall, I concluded to go with them. Provisions were scare, and none nearer than four hundred miles; some were entirely out then, and wished themselves away. Two came to me to know if I would not take them home with me - both poor men. One went by the name of Dutch John, and the other Irish Ned. Dutch John got a saddle, but poor Ned could find none he could buy. I felt sorry; the Indians being so bad that we thought it entirely unsafe to travel with wagons, so I had to leave Ned; but gave him my claim, tools, and fifteen or twenty days’ provisions, telling him that was all I could do for him.

     But here I must tell the good luck of Ned and my bad luck. The next summer Ned went to the States with $42,000 that he took out of the claim I gave him. I got home the fall before with $2,000 worth of Indian horses. Here was the difference of one man in luck and another out of luck.

     Companies coming in told us there was no use of our trying to get through, for the Indians would be sure to kill us. But we had started, and all wanted to go ahead The next morning I saw the signal Indian fires raised on the mountain, which were kept up all day, raising a smoke opposite us as much as a dozen times. We traveled until dark, got our supper, raised a big fire, and left; traveled fifteen or twenty miles, left the road and got into a deep hollow, where we had good grazing for our animals. The next morning we were off again, and so continued until we got to Snake River, building fires and leaving them, the Indians following us all the while. But when we got to Snake River, where we expected to be out of Indian troubles, no one was there. Tents were blown down, and wagon-covers flapping in the air, and everything looked dismal. My company looked down in the mouth. I cheered them up by saying we could whip all the Indians in the mountains. The ferry-boat was across the river. One of my men swam the river, some two hundred yards wide, and brought the boat over. No signs could be seen of any person having been there for many days, and a more gloomy time I had never seen. The Indians had whipped trains where there were eighty men, all armed, and some large trains were all killed off—and we, only seven, all told, with forty-six head of horses and mules, all tired from our hard traveling.

     We crossed and struck for the mountain, where we could see all around, and let our animals rest until dark. When we started on again we saw fire-lights, and now the question was, “Indians or whites?” After traveling eighteen miles we got close enough to see that there was plenty of wagons—and began to cheer up, thinking we were safe, and rolled into camp, greatly alarming the people. The Indians had had them corralled four days, two trains together, with the ferrymen. Some of these mountaineers had squaws for wives, and two Indians with them. I was acquainted with the ferry party, but they were as badly scared as the others, knowing the Indians’ intentions, and said there were five hundred of them circling their camp, and they were afraid to start. But as soon as it was known I was in camp there was a great shout, “We will get out of here now!” Those that never had seen me would rush up and shake hands, as though there had a deliverer come, sure enough. The brandy kegs that had lain at the bottom of their wagons since they left the Missouri River were raised and handed out to us with as hearty a welcome as ever it was to a deliverer of a nation. This was very acceptable to us, for we were almost worn out, and had had no sleep for four nights. My six men looked astonished, to think we had passed through such danger, and asked me if I had realized it. I told them I had, but had kept quiet, as they were all men I had not seen until in Montana.

     Next morning a big meeting was held, and I was unanimously chosen captain, with full power to do anything necessary to take them out of the country. We had one hundred and fifty men. I looked at them and thought that about one-third would be good fighting men, and about one-fourth would not fight at all. One man told me that some of the men said they would not fight. I called the attention of the company, and a vote was taken that I had full power to enforce all orders that might be disobeyed. Upon which I informed them that I was a stranger to most of them; that I had been informed that there were some in the company who said they would not fight, even if the Indians made an attack upon us. I asked the question, what should be done to such men, if found backing out in time of trouble. The cry was: “Do as you please with them, and we will back you.” Then I gave orders, if any man refused to fight in time of trouble, to shoot him first; and if there were any who persisted in such a course, to let me know, and if we had trouble they should be placed in front, and if they undertook to run or back out, we would first kill them, and have no dead weight to carry.

     A vote of the company was taken to carry out that order. That was the last of men saying they would not fight. All were on hand at a moment’s warning.

Meeting of Hickman and Deputy Marshal Gilson. Page 190.

     We rode out, keeping flanking, guards and spies on all the mountain points around. I kept the train and stock snug together, and every man with his rifle on his shoulder. Indians were constantly moving around us in different ways. At night, all the stock that could be was tied, the balance was kept in the corral made with our wagons, and a double guard of sixteen men on all the time. We moved on finely until we got to the Bannack Mountain. Here we had to double teams; but only moved a short distance at a time—kept close together, with our spies on all the points around. Just as the last wagon had reached the summit, I saw a smoke rising at the foot of the mountain below us. I saw through my opera-glass Indians coming from all directions, and before we were out of sight there were several hundred gathered at the foot of the mountain where the smoke had been raised. We kept out flanking guards, while passing through the mountain, some five or six miles. We then got into the head of Malad Valley, where we had an open country to travel in to the settlement on Bear River. The Indians gave up the chase, and did not follow us any farther. Two years after this, Gen. Connor having subdued these murderous Indians, I saw one that I had known on Green River some eight years before. I asked him if he had been one of the bad Indians murdering the whites two years before, and he said: “We did not kill you or your party.” He then told me that five hundred of them had corralled two trains and the ferrymen, and that I had got to them when they did not know it. He told me he saw me the morning after I had got into their camp, but did not know who I was; but watched our movement, and soon found that a good captain had got amongst them. They could see no chance to run off stock or take the train, and became satisfied that some great war chief was with them. He said the morning that we crossed the Bannack Mountain, he got into the rocks and covered himself up, only leaving a little hole to see out of, that he might see who that big captain was, and saw it was me. He said he went to the foot of the mountain and raised that smoke we saw for the Indians to gather, and when they all had come, he told them that I was the captain, and they then concluded it was no use to try any longer, for I was a medicine man, and a great war chief. I thought he might be telling the truth, and he might not; at any rate I would not like to have trusted any of them at that time.

     We reached the settlements in good shape, and I went on home, seventy miles farther, and found everything right and was aiming to live at home and be quiet, attend to farm stock, and raise my family in peace—not ever intending to again occupy any position in the Church, or as an officer. I thrashed my grain, and seldom went to town.

     There had been a new governor appointed—Governor Harding, who, when I first came home, was spoken very highly of by the people. But soon the story changed, and he was said to be a bad man. About this time Gen. Connor—then Colonel—came from California with some three or four hundred troops. Much was said about troops coming into the Territory; but it was thought they would stop at Camp Floyd as before, and probably not be any detriment to the people. Connor had come ahead of his troops, and no person could find out what he was going to do; he never talked beforehand. He went hack and met them, and when it was known that he had passed through Camp Floyd, word was sent to him by the head man that he would not be allowed to cross the Jordan River, which he had to do to get to Salt Lake City. But this did not stop him; he kept up his march, crossed the river, and encamped within eight miles of the city. A delegation was sent to him to apologize, or rather deny any such word being sent to him by Mormon authority. The next day he passed through the city and on to the bench, and halted his troops, and established Camp Douglas, which he afterwards built up mostly as it now stands.

     The Indians, who had been killing the emigrants for the last two years, had gathered near the north settlements, about one hundred and twenty-five miles north of Salt Lake City. The General sent scouts to seek out their situation, and the Indians sent him word to come on—they were ready, and could whip all his soldiers. The General went with a portion of his men in the winter weather, very cold. His men—most of them —waded Bear River, and found the savages in a deep ravine running across Bear River Valley, where it was smooth and clear of knolls or brush, and he had to attack them while in this entrenchment. He had a two hours’ fight. and killed over four hundred. But few escaped that could be found, except the women and children, who were not hurt, only through mistake. He had sixteen men killed on the battle-field, and about as many wounded; and some of them died after he got back to camp. This, together with what he did the next spring and summer, broke up this murderous band. He got great praise; and he truly deserved it. That band had killed off several trains of California and Oregon emigration—men, women, and children—sparing none. This was the same band of Shoshonees which had been after me and party.

     I had not, up to this time, made the acquaintance of Gov. Harding or Gen. Connor. I did not aspire to honors or offices, knowing that it would militate against me to be sociable with them. On two or three occasions I refused to go in the room where they were and be introduced to them. One day I was in the city, at Abel Gilbert’s store; I saw the door of the back room open, and Mr. Gilbert and the Governor came out. I started out, knowing that my old friend Gilbert would introduce me, and I did not want to get into notice; but, before I got out of the store, I was called back and introduced to the Governor, who said he had been anxious to see me ever since he had come to the Territory.

     I found him a frank, sociable old gentleman, but anxious to hear me talk, and get my views with regard to the rebellion that was then going on in the States, and a general expression of sentiments. I could not avoid talking, and finally told him I was Southern-raised, and owned negroes, but I thought it a shame to have good and honest men slain to gratify hot-headed aspirants. I told him that the honest men of our nation ought to have taken and hanged about 250 of those hot-headed, rampart Southerners, and about as many of those cursed Northern abolitionists, and then put an estimate on the negroes, and make the negro-lovers pay a part, and also make the owners lose a part; then colonize them and keep a standing army of United States troops, to prevent either white men or negroes passing either in or out of their country, upon the penalty of death. The Governor laughed heartily at what he called my original sentiment

     I thought I was through, and was about to start, when he says: “No, I want you to go back with me.” I went, and was introduced to Gen. Connor. The next time I went to town, I went, by invitation, and spent the evening with the Governor; he became very much attached to me. He told me the course he had taken, and the lies that had been told on him, and also the threats that had been made against him; and asked me what I thought he had better do. I told him to attend to business, and act in his official position, fearless or regardless of all consequences. He says to me, “Will you stand by me?” I told him I would, and he might depend on me if he had any trouble. Ever after this we were the best of friends; and even after he left here, while Chief Justice of Colorado, he spoke in the highest terms of me in two or three publications he made in the Colorado papers.

     The summer previous to this, a sect known as Morrisites arose, and established a church on Weber River, forty miles north of Salt Lake City, under the guidance of one Joseph Morris as their prophet and leader. They sold their possessions owned by them at other places, and gathered to that place to prepare for great blessings that were to be given them from heaven through their prophet. They increased very fast, and were bold in advocating their doctrine. They were peaceable, and ignorant; as a general thing; but had some smart men amongst them, who seemed as steadfast in their belief as those of more ordinary talent. They were hissed and hooted at by those who wanted mischief, and some of them occasionally beaten. Some were arrested under pretense of being guilty of crime, and then would get misused and turned loose.

     Finally they made a declaration that they would not be arrested any more for nothing. This was enough. Writs were soon out, and a posse under Gen. Burton was sent to arrest all their principal men. He went some six hundred strong, taking with them a few pieces of artillery, and a fight ensued. Some were killed on both sides. Burton, with his men, shot Morris, and one or two of his principal men, after they had taken their place; and it is said that Burton shot a woman also who sauced him. This is the affair for which Burton was indicted in the fall of 1870, and is now on the move to keep out of the officer's hands.*
(*See Appendix-K)

     These people were cruelly treated, and incarcerated in prison to await their trial for resistance to law and for murder. They however got bail, and, I think in February ’63 had their trial. The jury being composed of those who were by no means favorably disposed to them, it was a certain thing that they would be sentenced to heavy punishment. The poor creatures were to be pitied; they were as harmless a set of creatures as I ever saw. But the secret of the matter was, Brigham Young wanted them broken up, and it had to be done in some way.

     This thing was much talked of, and several of them went to Gov. Harding, seeking redress, and laying their grievances before him. When the court came on to try them, the Governor said he expected executive clemency would be asked in their behalf, and wished me to attend court with him and hear the evidence, so that he might he satisfied in his mind as to their guilt or innocence. I attended court five days, and was myself surprised to hear the flimsy testimony against them. The Governor says to me, with tears rolling down his cheeks like rain, “have we not heard enough.” I told him I thought so, and he, says to me, “Why are you so sad this evening? You do not like the manner in which those poor creatures are treated.” I told him I felt more like crying over them than persecuting them. He shook me by the hand, and said, “I am glad to see those tender feelings you have for suffering humanity; it will all be fixed in time.”

Continued on the next page.