he second anniversary of our
marriage. He lies buried in the ground he donated as "God's acre," with
only this inscription at his head: "John Swisshelm, aged 86." No sign
that he was one of the world's heroes--yet, when our revolution broke
out, his parents had but two children. The oldest enlisted and was
killed, when John caught up his rifle, took his place, and kept it until
the close of the war. He spent the winter in Valley Forge, and once, in
the darkest time, discovered Washington on his knees in a lonely
thicket, praying aloud for his country. This gave him hope, when hope
was well-nigh dead, and he followed his commander across the Jerseys,
one of the two thousand who wrote in blood, from their shoeless feet,
their protest against British rule on the soil they thus consecrated to
Freedom.

CHAPTER IX.

HABITATIONS OF HORRID CRUELTY.--AGE, 23, 24.

On the 6th of June, 1838, the white frost lay on the west side of
Pittsburg roofs as we steamed away from her wharf, bound for Louisville,
where my husband proposed going into a business already established by
his brother Samuel.

On the boat, all the way down the river, the general topic of
conversation was the contrast between the desolate slave-cursed shores
of Kentucky, and the smiling plenty of the opposite bank; but Louisville
was largely settled by Northern people, and was to prove an oasis in the
desert of slavery.

It lay at the head of the Falls of the Ohio, and the general government
had lately expended large sums in building a canal around them. Henry
Clay was in the zenith of his power, slavery held possession of the
national resources, Louisville might count on favors, and she was to be
Queen City of the West. There was an aspiring little place which fancied
itself a rival, a little boat-landing, without natural advantages,
called Cincinnati, where they killed hogs; but it was quite absurd to
think of her competing with the great metropolis at the head of the
canal.

I was quite surprised to find there were a good many houses and folks in
Cincinnati; but our boat did not stop long, and we soon reached our
Eldorado. Before we effected a landing at the crowded wharf, I fell to
wondering if a Pittsburg drayman could take a Louisville dray, its load,
its three horses and ragged driver, pile them on his dray, and with his
one horse take them to their destination--and I thought he could.

Samuel met us, and as we went in a hack to the boarding p