e children. And there they had remained, receiving
such care as the Indian women give their own pappooses, and making
friends of all in the wigwam. When the troops came to the rescue, the
Indian women were unwilling to give them up; they had taken an
especial fancy to Andrew, who was very fair, and of a sweet, gentle
disposition. He was not quite three years old, and, of course, could
not so well understand the dreadful loss they had sustained as John,
who was two years older, and who never recovered from the shock of the
fearful tragedy, and from the injury done his nervous system by the
cruel scalping-knife.

He remained at Col. Snelling's during his life, two or three years,
and then, from an injury received from an axe, was taken with lock-jaw
and died. During his illness he raved of the barbarous Indians, who
killed his dear ones, begged them to spare the baby, and not hurt his
mother; then he would seem to be hurrying Andrew out of the way of the
murderers, and hiding him as well as he could. He suffered terrible
mental agony, but he had been carefully taught by Mrs. Snelling, whom
he learned to love very dearly, and, reason returning before he died,
he gave clear evidence that he loved the Savior, and felt sure that he
would take him to heaven, where his father and mother, and precious
little sister were awaiting him.

Little Andrew grew finely and proved a perfectly healthy child. His
preservation and rescue were so remarkable that my father gave him the
name of "Marvel," and almost always addressed him as "Andrew Marvel."
He had been our little playmate and brother for two years when our
father obtained a furlough and took us all to New England to visit our
relatives there, and we went by the way of New Orleans, that being the
only comfortable and continuous route to New York at that time. It was
our first journey since we children could remember, and we were all
delighted beyond measure at the thought of it. A keel-boat was fitted
up nicely for the occasion, and in addition to our immediate family,
including Andrew of course, we had as fellow travelers Captain
Leonard, his wife and two children, making quite a large party. I
remember distinctly our starting, the good-byes from those who stood
on shore, the slow progress of the boat as it was poled along by the
crew, and it was not without a quiver of sadness that we turned the
point where we lost sight of the flag. We felt then that we were away
from home an