Elsie and Her Namesakes

"And, mother," he added, "I have quite decided that I want to go into the ministry. I want to be a missionary to the poor and needy, the ignorant and helpless."

"My dear son," she replied with emotion, "how glad I am to hear it! I want you to be a winner of souls, a helper of the helpless, in this, your own land, or in some other; preferably this, because you will be nearer to me and I can see you oftener."

"Yes, mother," he returned, "and I think I could hardly find a better field than among the mountains of Kentucky or Tennessee."

"No, I don't believe you could," said his grandfather approvingly. "Those mountaineers are our own people, destitute as regards both temporal and spiritual things, and have a prior claim to that of those in heathen lands; and love for our land and nation should draw us strongly to their aid, even if we did not care for their eternal salvation."

Others in the little company gave expression to similar views and feelings, then they discussed ways and means of helping the work already going on among those mountaineers, and there was a general expression of intention to do more for that corner of the Lord's vineyard than they had ever yet done.

"And by way of carrying out our intentions, suppose we take up a collection now," suggested Edward Travilla.

"I doubt if that would be our wisest course if we want to give liberally," remarked his sister Elsie, "for I presume no one has much in hand at this moment."

"So I dare say our motto just now would better be a lazy one, 'Not to-day, we'll do it to-morrow," laughed Zoe.

"Yes; let us appoint a collector for to-morrow," said her husband. "I propose Walter for the job. All in favor say 'aye.'" An invitation which all immediately accepted.

"I am quite willing," he said, "and shall include Woodburn folks and maybe some of the other nearby relatives in my list of hoped-for and tried-for subscribers. I expect to beg in good season to-morrow morning. So please all be ready for prompt compliance with my solicitation."

Then Mr. Dinsmore suggested that it might be well now to have the evening family devotions ere the young folks grew too weary and sleepy to enjoy a share in them, and in response all were called within doors and the service held.

About the same time similar services were going on at Woodburn, after which the Sunnyside folk bade good-night and sought their own homes, Chester drawing Ray in his new coach and a servant doing a like service for Baby Mary, her devoted mother walking close by the side of the dainty little vehicle.

The next morning Chester set off for his place of business at his usual hour, and just as he disappeared down the road, Lucilla, still standing upon the veranda, saw, to her delight, her father approaching from Woodburn.

"Oh, father," she cried, "I am so glad to see you."

"Are you?" he said, coming up the steps and taking her in his arms for a tender caress; "well, daughter dear, the joy is mutual. How is my little grandson this morning?"

"Well, I believe, father, but still asleep. Won't you come in and have a cup of coffee?"

He accepted the invitation, and they chatted together while she finished her breakfast, Chester's hurried departure having called her away from the table a trifle too soon.

The nurse girl brought Ray in, ready washed and dressed for the day, just as they finished their meal.

"Give him to me," said the captain, and taking him in his arms, carried him out to the veranda, Lucilla following.

It was a warm morning, and they sat down there side by side.

"To his grandfather he seems a lovely little darling," the captain said, caressing the child as he spoke. "Lucilla, my daughter, I hope you will prove a good, kind, patient, faithful mother, bringing him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

"Oh, father," she replied in tones tremulous with emotion, "I want to do so, but – oh, you know what a bad natural temper I have, and I very much fear that I shall not always be patient with him, dearly as I love him."

"Watch and pray, daughter dear; ask the Lord daily, hourly for strength, grace, wisdom according to your need. God is the hearer and answerer of prayer. He says, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me.' Trust in Him, and He will deliver you from the power of the tempter and your own evil nature."

"I will, father; I do," she said; "and it helps and comforts me to know that you pray for me; especially remembering that gracious, precious promise of our Lord, 'If two of you shall agree on earth, as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.'"

"Yes, it is indeed a gracious, precious promise, and can never fail," he said. "But now I must go, daughter. Do you and Eva come over to Woodburn again to-day as early as may suit your convenience," he added, putting the child into her arms and giving to each a good-by caress.

Shortly after breakfast at Ion that morning Walter walked over to Fairview and called upon the Lelands for their contributions for the benefit of the Kentucky and Tennessee mountaineers. All, father and mother to youngest child, gave liberally in proportion to their ability.

"Oh, I am delighted!" exclaimed Walter. "I think I shall go on and present the cause to all the kith and kin in this neighborhood."

"Do," said his sister; "there won't be one who will not give according to his or her ability. And when through with this, brother dear, come here and pay us as long a visit as you can."

"Thank you, I think I shall, especially if you get mother to be here at the same time; but I don't want to miss a minute of her society."

"Which you cannot love better than I do," returned his sister, with a look that said more than her words, "and as she is decidedly fond of us both, I think she will not refuse to accompany you here at my earnest request, or to stay as long as you do."

"No, indeed; I am very sure she won't. I am going back now to Ion, and mother will go with me in the gig to drive round to the home of each of our relatives and near connections in this neighborhood, and ask them to give what they can or like to give to this good object. We will take Woodburn last, and get either Harold or the captain to put the money in the right shape – a check, I suppose – and mail it so that it will reach the spot as soon as possible."

With that Walter bade good-by and hastened to carry out his programme, which he, with his mother's help, did successfully, every one solicited by them giving liberally to the good cause, and the captain attending promptly to the dispatch of the funds.

CHAPTER XX

That May day ended in a lovely evening, warm enough to make outside air the most agreeable, so directly after an early tea the Woodburn family gathered upon the veranda, where they were presently joined by the Sunnyside folk, babies and all, who received the warmest of welcomes, though they had been absent from the older home but a few hours.

Naturally the first topic of conversation related to that day's visit from Grandma Elsie and Walter and its main object – the appeal for help to the good work going on among the mountaineers of Kentucky and Tennessee.

"I am glad we were given the opportunity to help it," remarked the captain. "It has set me to thinking of the pioneers and early settlers of that section of our land. Among them Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton."

"Oh, papa, please tell us about them!" exclaimed Elsie.

"Some time, daughter," he answered pleasantly; "but the rest of this little company may not care to hear the old stories repeated just now."

At that there was a unanimous expression of desire to do so, and he presently began.

"Simon Kenton's lifetime took in both our wars with England, as he was born in 1755 and lived until April, 1836. Virginia was his native State, but his father was Irish and his mother Scotch. They were poor, and Simon received but little education. At the age of sixteen he had a fight with another young fellow named William Veach about a love affair. He thought he had killed Veach, so fled over the Alleghanies. There he called himself Simon Butler. He formed friendships with traders and hunters, among them Simon Girty."

"Girty, that cruel, cruel wretch!" cried Elsie. "How could anybody want to have him for a friend?"

"He was a bad, cruel man," replied her father, "but perhaps never had any good teaching. His father had died and his mother married again, and they were all taken prisoners by the Indians and his step-father burned at the stake when Simon Girty was but five years old. It was three years before he was released, and I do not know that he ever had any education. Many cruel deeds are told of him, but he was really a good friend to Simon Kenton, and once saved him from being burned at the stake by the Indians.

"But to go back, Kenton was soon persuaded by a young man named Yager, who had been taken by the Western Indians when a child, and spent a good many years among them, to go with him to a land called by the Indians Kan-tuc-kee, which he described as a most delightful place.

"They two, with a third young man named Strader, set off in high spirits, expecting to find a paradise. But they wandered through the wilderness for weeks hoping to find the promised land, but without success. Then they tried hunting and trapping for nearly two years. But being discovered by the Indians, they had to abandon those hunting grounds and try elsewhere; but to tell of it all would make too long a story.

"In 1778 Kenton joined Daniel Boone in his expedition against the Indian town on Paint Creek. On his return from that he was sent by Colonel Bowman, with two companions, to make observations upon the Indian towns on Little Miami, the colonel considering the idea of an expedition against them. Kenton reached the spot in safety, and if he had attended only to what he was sent to do he might have succeeded well and been very useful to the settlers in Kentucky, but before leaving the towns he stole a number of the Indians' horses.

"The Indians missed their horses early the next morning, found the trail of those who had taken them, and at once pursued after them. Kenton and his companions soon heard the cries of the Indians in their rear and knew they were being pursued, so saw the necessity of riding for their lives, which they did, dashing through the woods at a furious rate, with the hue and cry of the Indians after them ringing in their ears; but suddenly they came to an impenetrable swamp.

"There they paused a few moments, listening for the sounds of pursuit; but hearing none, they started on again, skirted the swamp for some distance, hoping to be able to cross it, but finding they could not, they dashed on in a straight line for the Ohio. For forty-eight hours they continued their furious speed, halting only once or twice for a few minutes to eat a little, and reached the Ohio in safety. But there they had to pause and consider what to do, for the river was high and rough and the jaded horses could not be induced to try to swim it. The men might yet have escaped if they had only abandoned the horses; but that Kenton could not make up his mind to do. He and his companions consulted over the matter, and feeling sure that they were as much as twelve hours in advance of their Indian pursuers, they decided to conceal the horses in the nearby ravine and themselves in an adjoining wood, hoping that by sunset the high wind would abate and the river become quiet enough for them to cross safely with the animals.

"But when the waited-for time came the wind was higher and the water rougher than ever. Still they stayed where they were through the night. The next morning was mild, and they heard no sound of pursuing Indians, so they again tried to urge the horses over the river. But the animals seemed to remember its condition on the previous day, and could not be induced to go into it at all.

"It was quite a drove of horses they had stolen, but now they found they must abandon all but the three they could mount; so that they did, and started down the river, with the intention to keep the Ohio and Indiana side till they should arrive opposite Louisville.

"But they had waited too long, and even now were slow in carrying out their intention. They had not gone more than a hundred yards on their horses when they heard a loud halloo, coming apparently from the spot they had just left. They could not escape; were quickly surrounded by their pursuers, one of Kenton's companions killed, the other, effecting his escape while Kenton was taken prisoner, falling a victim to his love of horses."