he request of Colonel Sanders:

My brother Malcolm Clark was the oldest child of our parents and their
only son. He was born July 22d, 1817, at Fort Wayne, Indiana. When he
was two years old our home was at Fort Snelling, where we remained for
eight years. He was a handsome, bright-eyed, brave and venturesome
boy, and soon began to develop a very decided taste for field sports
of all kinds, becoming a ready pupil and prime favorite of Captain
Martin Scott, widely known as the veritable Nimrod of those days. He
was constantly running risks even in his plays, and had some
miraculous escapes. But his fortitude and endurance of pain were very
remarkable, and his great ambition was to bear himself under all
circumstances like a true soldier.

One of my earliest recollections of him is seeing him mounted on his
beautiful pony, riding without saddle or bridle, his arms extended,
his eyes flashing, and his soft brown hair waving in the wind. This
early training in daring horsemanship made him, as all who knew him
can testify, a perfect rider. He was very quick to resent anything
that looked like an imposition, or an infringement of his rights, it
mattered not who was the aggressor. On one occasion, during the
temporary absence of the Surgeon, he fell and cut his mouth so badly
that it was feared the injury might be very serious.

Colonel Snelling, who had some knowledge of surgery, volunteered to
repair the damaged feature, but when he attempted to use the needle,
Malcolm, who felt he was not duly authorized, refused to let him touch
it, shaking his tiny fist in his face, by way of menace. The Colonel
laughingly retreated, and recommended sticking-plaster, which answered
an admirable purpose.

A few years later I assisted the Surgeon in dressing a wound which
Malcolm had accidentally inflicted on his own arm with a knife, and,
although the operation of probing and cleansing it was perfect
torture, he submitted to it patiently and without a sound of
complaint.

He was a loving, affectionate boy, full of real chivalry and true
nobility. Being next in age, I was his constant companion, and his
kind, loving consideration of me is deeply impressed upon me. When for
some years Cincinnati was our home, he attended a classical school in
that city, taught by Alexander Kinmont, a Scotchman, somewhat
celebrated as an educator of boys, and by his high sense of honor and
his engaging manners he endeared himself to his teacher and fell