THE POISONED WHISKY.

I was told by a gentleman at my club the other day that he had read in some magazine that the British army had blown open the tomb of the Mahdi in upper Africa, and had mutilated the body, cutting off the head and sending it to England in a kerosene can. I could hardly believe the story, but he vouched for having read it in a reputable publication, and being a strong hater of the English, affirmed his unqualified faith in the statement. Notwithstanding his position, it seemed to me incredible that such an act of barbarism could be perpetrated by the disciplined soldiery of a civilized nation in the nineteenth century. The conversation so impressed me that I could not drive it out of my mind, and I kept revolving it and making comparisons with events in my own experience, until I concluded that it is more than probable that it took place as related, and have since learned that it actually occurred.

I have seen a good deal of ferocity and savagism, and it was not at all confined to people acknowledged to be barbarians. I remember an instance where I came very near being a party to a scheme, the brutality of which would have made the mutilation of the dead Mahdi commendable in comparison; but fortunately my better nature and second thought overcame my passions, and I was spared the perpetration of the awful crime, the remembrance of which, had it been committed, would undoubtedly have haunted me through life.

Many of the older settlers of Minnesota will remember the horrors of the Indian massacre and war of 1862, when the Sioux attacked our exposed frontiers, and in a day and a half massacred quite a thousand people. They spared neither age nor sex. It was like all such savage outbreaks,—a war against the race and the blood. These atrocities extended over a large and sparsely inhabited area of country, and were usually perpetrated at the houses of the settlers by the slaughter of the entire family, sometimes varied by the seizure of the women, and carrying them off into captivity, which in most instances was worse than death. Every character of mutilation and outrage that could be suggested by the inflamed passions of a savage were resorted to, and so horrible were they that it would shock and disgust the reader should I attempt to describe them. This condition of things was no surprise to me, because it was to be expected from savages; but the more we saw and heard of it, the more exasperated and angered we became, and the more we vowed vengeance should the opportunity come.

I resided on the frontier at the time the outbreak occurred, and murders were committed within eight miles of my home before I heard of it, which was on the morning of the second day. I, of course, immediately, after disposing of my impedimenta in the shape of women and children, took the field against the enemy, and by nine o'clock in the evening of the same day that I heard of the trouble I found myself at the town of New Ulm, a German settlement on the frontier, the extreme outpost of civilization, in command of over one hundred men, armed and ready for battle. We had raised and equipped the company and travelled thirty-two miles since the morning.

When we entered the town it was being attacked by a squad of Indians, about one hundred strong, who had already burned a number of houses and were firing upon the inhabitants, having already killed several. We soon dislodged the enemy, put out the fires, and settled down to await events. This was on Tuesday, the 19th of August. We strengthened the barricades about the town, and did all we could to prepare for a second attack, which we knew would certainly come, and from the combined forces of the enemy, and which did come on the following Saturday. While waiting, numerous squads of whites from the surrounding country reenforced us, and it soon became apparent that someone must be put in command of the whole force, to prevent disorders on the part of the men, as whisky was abundant and free. The honor of the command fell upon me by election of the officers of the various companies, and in the choice of a rank for myself my modesty restrained me to that of colonel. I have often thought since that I lost the opportunity of my life, as I might just as easily have assumed the title of major general.

Every day we sent out scouting expeditions, and brought in refugees, men, women and children, who were in hiding or wounded, and in the most pitiable condition. From these we learned of many additional atrocities, which kept our passions and desire for revenge at fever heat. On Saturday, the 23d, the Indians who had been all the week besieging Fort Ridgely, abandoned that quest, and came down upon us in full force. The attack commenced about half-past nine o'clock on Saturday morning, and the fight raged hotly and viciously for about thirty hours without cessation. I lost in the first hour and a half ten killed and fifty wounded, out of a command of not more than 250 guns. On the afternoon of the next day the Indians gradually disappeared toward the north, and gave us a breathing spell, and then a relief company arrived and the fighting ceased.

On Monday ammunition and provisions were getting short, and fearing a renewal of the attack, I decided to evacuate the town, and go down the Minnesota river to Mankato, a distance of about thirty miles over an open prairie. We had nearly fifteen hundred women and children to take care of, and about eighty wounded men. The caravan consisted of 153 wagons, drawn by horses and oxen; the troops being on foot, and so disposed as to make a good defense if attacked.

Everything being ready for a start, some one suggested to me to set a trap for the Indians, when they should enter the town after our departure, as we all supposed they would, there being an immense amount of loot left behind,—stores full of goods of all kinds, and many other things of value to the savage.

I had, the day before, put a stop to some of the younger men scalping the eight or ten dead Indians who had been dragged into the town from where they had been killed, regarding it as barbarous. The boys would take off a small piece of scalp, and with its long black hair, tie it into their button-holes, as a souvenir to take home with them.

What do you think was the nature of the trap that was proposed to catch the Indians? It makes my blood run cold to think of it, and so disgraceful and diabolical was it that, in all I have said and written about this war in the last thirty-six years, I have never had courage to mention it. Yet as awful as it was, so incensed was I at all the devilish cruelty that had been perpetrated on our people that I at first consented to it, and we went so far as actually to set the trap.

It was proposed to expose a barrel of whisky in a conspicuous place, and put enough strychnine in it to destroy the whole Sioux nation, and then label it "poison" in all the languages spoken in our polyglot country, so that should the first comers be whites they would avoid it, but if Indians, we might have the satisfaction of exterminating them. We actually went so far as to place the barrel where it would attract anyone who should be looking about the main street, which was all that was left of the town, and labelled it in French, English, German, Italian, Swedish and Norwegian, and then put into it eight or ten bottles of strychnine, prepared for destroying wolves, and were about leaving when the thought flashed through my mind: "Suppose a relief squad should be sent to us, and should think the whole matter a joke to cheat them out of a drink, and should sample it and die, as they certainly would, we never could forgive ourselves, and would be really their murderers." My knowledge of the fact that a soldier who had made a long march on a hot day would take big chances for a drink, heightened my apprehension on this view of the subject, and the more I thought the matter over, the more devilish it appeared to me, even if we caught only Indians. I actually felt as though I would be ashamed to meet the spirit of even a savage enemy whom I had disposed of in such a cowardly manner, should we finally be consigned to the same happy hunting grounds, so I took an axe and knocked the head of the barrel in, and let the contents into the street. While I deeply regretted the loss of so much good whisky, I have never thought of the occurrence since without inwardly rejoicing that my better nature and judgment prevented me from committing such an offense against all the laws of honor, humanity and civilization. It turned out that the first arrival was a squad sent by General Sibley to our relief, and from what I know of some of the men composing it, I am quite certain that the warning would have been disregarded. The circumstance, however, proves how deeply the savage instinct is imbedded in human nature, whatever the color of the skin. "Give us strength to resist temptation," has been my prayer ever since.

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