I know them for the most part to be unregenerate and doomed, but even if it were otherwise--if they had the true light--none the less would I be glad to go, because of what they have done to us and to me and to mine.

Oh, in the night I hear such cries of butchered mothers with their babes, and see the flames of the little cabins--hear the shots and the ribaldry and the cursings.

My father spoke to you of Haun's mill,--that massacre back in Missouri.
That was eight years ago.

I was a boy of sixteen and my sister was a year older.

She had been left in my care while father and mother went on to Far West.