CHAPTER XII.

FUNERAL OF BARBER - DEATH OF R. P. BROWN.

Dec. 15th. — The day of the election upon the adoption of the state constitution. The vote for the constitution was small, coming as it did on the heels of the invasion. In some of the districts the constitutions were not received. There was no opportunity to canvass the territory; and where appointments had been made for meetings, there was no speaking. At Leavenworth there was a gathering of some of the forces who had been before Lawrence. As the election was proceeding quietly, Charles Dunn, with a party, smashed in the window of the building where the election was being held, jumped in, and drove off the judges of election. One of the clerks of election, in attempting to save the ballot-box, was seized by the throat by Dunn. He was also struck in the face by Dunn, and by another person, until he fell, when the crowd rushed upon him, kicking him in the head and sides. Dunn and party then carried off the ballotboxes.

16th. It is a clear, bright December day, and the snows, which came in small quantity, are fast melting, and mingling with the clayey soil. So, besides the burden of rubbers, one has to carry no little portion of the native earth. But, as Mr. Barber was to be disinterred from his hasty burial in town, to be buried with martial honors to-day, we made the half-mile walk. First, however, arranging for the sick man at home. Mr. C. had gone beyond his strength, in an attempted journey, and he was again a fixture in the chimney-corner. He threatens, with a mixture of "quinine and sulphuric acid," to drive away the chills;

but whether he may not drive himself away, his fragility continually suggests. However, in these days of reform and progress, it has become fashionable to "die of the doctor rather than the disease."

As we reached the hotel, which had indeed become the place for all assemblies, meetings to discuss the affairs of the country, or pleasure-gatherings, the barracks for soldiers, and now where the services for the dead were to be performed, the wagons and carriages standing around, and the groups of people hurrying in all directions, showed that the feeling of the people was aroused. We passed among the crowd, and, narrowly escaping a fall into one of the ditches made by the throwing up of the entrenchments, ascended the inclined boards at the doorway, which served for steps.

As I entered the long dining-hall, where but a week since was the sound of rejoicing, it seemed as though every place was full. But a friendly heart, though a stranger's, made room on one of the long settees. Long boards had also been brought in for extra seats, and these were full of this sympathizing community.

It was a strange, a motley group. There were hats of satin and velvet, with plumes, and Paris flowers, with dresses of rich material, and costly furs. There were brides of a few months, just arrived in this western home, and city belles come out for a winter's sojourn where the artificial has wholly given place to simplicity and nature. There were some with log-cabin bonnets of black silk, or cotton velvet, and dress of plain coarse stuff, giving to the wearer an odd, strange look. There were others whose apparel is the safer medium between the two, which ever bespeaks the taste and intelligence of the wearer.

There were many who have lived their whole lives in cities, accustomed to their elegancies and refinements, who are now roughing it with the simple dwellers in nature's halls. Yet, over all this immense crowd, who had gathered from many miles around to take part in this mournful service, was spread the hallowed, chastening influence of this great sorrow. There was not one present but would willingly have taken part of the burden, could it have lessened the crushing woe of the lone bereaved one.

Silence pervaded the assembly, and many a heart whose tendrils. yet cling broken around their loved ones, who seemingly had been in perils more and greater, felt a deep thankfulness that, rudely torn asunder, they did not then lie bleeding, the fond object dying, withering.

There was a sound of people moving, the tread of many feet, a heart-breaking sob, and many turned to look. Had they passed through hours when the death angel had stricken down the loved. from their own pathway, they would have realized how like sacrilege is this gazing of the multitude upon the broken, crushed spirit, burying its dead.

Then the sob came from the other end of the hall, and the tall, white-haired, blue-eyed man, who knew her husband, and would perform the service, bent over her, to speak some comforting word. But, like Rachel, she refused to be comforted. A hymn was read, and the audience sang an old, familiar tune; but ever and anon, amid the singing, there came this wailing, this moaning, as though the heart must break through its earthly fetters. Short speeches followed from Generals Lane and Robinson, and then a sad sermon.

When the preacher spoke of death finding the one taken in the performance of his duty, a duty cheerfully performed for his country; that from this service he had been taken to a higher; of him who will be to the widow more than husband or child; of the evanescence of human life, and of that fairer country, beyond the dark waters of death, where the cruel reign of the tyrant is over; we felt that a response went out from the poor lone one's heart, that she had caught a glimpse of the bright chain reaching from heaven, earthward,— and that she would realize, more fully than in life, the nearness of the loved spirit.

The services were over, and preparations were made to bear the lamented dead to the burial. The military companies, with arms reversed, walked first, the generals, upon horseback, leading the way. There was the company from Lawrence, and the "Barker Guards; " then the body of the dead, and the sad mourners the widow and brothers; then the neighbors of the quiet, inoffensive man, who felt most keenly his death; then the whole community. All kinds of vehicles, wagons, and carriages, fell into the rear, and

in solemn procession made a long line over the prairie. Soon they wound up the lone, steep way, over Mount Oread.

A mile further over the level prairie the procession moved on slowly, "for it was a man they bore." The soldiers formed in lines on either side, with bowed heads and lifted hats. The mourners passed through, and stood around the open grave. The coffin was gently lowered, the falling earth rattled upon its lid a dread, fearful sound; the bitter wailing of the desolate, childless, earth-stricken widow rose above the sad moaning of the winter wind, and broke in upon the words, "Dust to dust," "I am

the resurrection and the life."

The mourners fell back, giving place to the soldiers, who then stood around the grave, and each division fired their rifles into the last resting-place of their loved and honored comrade.

Such a scene as this the actors in it had never before witnessed, and with similar emotions never will again. In this glorious old country, with its hills so smoothly terraced, its prairies boundless, over which, a twelvemonth since, the Indian alone roamed with the wild deer in the venerable forests, now in concord the white man dwells with his red brother. There is no war between them, no enmity. But another power, more hideous, more grasping, has arisen. These beautiful lands are coveted by the slave power. It threatens boldly, and with all its treachery, all its hateful wiles unmasked, to bring the dark-browed race, whose color is their crime, to suffer here; that with the sweetly-perfumed breath of these green prairies shall come to our ears the wailing of her who is worse than widowed, and the sad cry of children who know no tenderer words of man than those of the bloody task-master and tyrant.

For this the slave power has another victim, and the solemn prairie has witnessed the burial of liberty's third martyr to-day. Stern men, unused to weep, and timid women, have bowed with the stricken, and shared their grief. The blow, falling most heavily on her, leaves them not untouched, and the warning is loud and deep, "Death to your liberties." The love we had always borne to freedom is tenfold increased, while the hatred of oppression is intensified and strengthened. A new consecration of our energies, in this unequal fight for freedom, is made over

the new-made grave. And it is no child's play,- no work merely of to-day, but a life-service. It is easy to boast of putting on the harness, and to be full of courage, when quiet sits by one's own fireside, and when the crowd are pressing eagerly on to victory, with banners waving, and music filling the air; but it is another thing in this frontier land, where for very weariness with watching the soul faints, where there is no gloss of military trappings, where the plumes are tattered, and the little army, weary and struggling, is passing through sorrow and the wilder

ness.

In the prospect of freedom's bulwarks raised high and strong we can yet exult. It will be accomplished by no magic power, but by faithful service, and patient endurance. Strong arms will hew out the timber, dig broad and deep the trenches, and rear high the walls. It will cost many tears and cares, anxieties and prayers, and the sorrow of many spirits hopeful to-day. It may cost many valued lives; but we will lay each corner-stone of this altar of freedom with the serene, abiding strength of a holy faith; trust all to Him who maketh "the darkness as the noonday," and the end will be glorious.

Sheriff Jones called at the door, before the day was over, for S. and T., two young men of New England origin, and of whom she may well be proud. They went with him to Lecompton for trial, having been engaged in the " rescue case, and from that court will appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States, hoping thus to test the validity of the territorial laws. We hope this willingness of theirs to be the instruments in testing these laws will not be at too great a cost. Another of the rescuers was sitting in the parlor when Jones called for Smith and Tappan, upon whom he had previously served the warrant; but his eye did not fall upon the man he had so much longed to arrest.

22d.— A convention was holden to-day in Lawrence to nominate state officers. It was fully attended. The forenoon was warm and pleasant; but the change in the weather, soon after dinner, was terrible.

The cold every moment increased, and snow commenced falling with the evening shadows. E. wrapped herself in blankets, and