should be
placed under their care, planning to educate him for the ministry, and
send him out to preach the gospel of peace to the tribe of Indians who
had murdered his parents. We all objected strongly to giving him up,
but the ladies at length persuaded father that they could do better by
him than one whose life was one of constant change and uncertainty,
and, with a view to the boy's best interests, he yielded to their
entreaties, and our little brother passed into the hands of the orphan
asylum. We remained at the East a year visiting dear friends in New
England and spending some time in New Haven, where a precious little
sister, born at Fort Snelling, died and was laid to rest in the burial
lot of Joseph Brewster, whose wife was our father's much-loved cousin.
When years afterward I went from a frontier post and became a pupil in
Mrs. Apthorp's seminary, in the lovely City of Elms, that little grave
in the beautiful cemetery comforted me in my homesickness.

In 1833 my father made a second visit to the East, and while in New
York hunted up Andrew, whom he found apprenticed to a wagon maker, and
could not learn why the original purpose of fitting him for the
ministry had been abandoned. But the boy seemed doing well and was
happy and content. Three years later, when our father lay on his
death-bed at Fort Winnebago, a letter came to him from relatives of
the Tullys inquiring about these boys, stating that some money from
their mother's family was awaiting them. Father dictated a reply
telling the writer all he knew of them and gave him the address of
Andrew in New York; and for years afterwards we heard nothing of him.
My mother made inquiries by letter of parties whom she thought might
tell her something concerning him and used all available means to find
him, in vain, much to the regret of all our family, and we came to
the conclusion that he was dead. A few years ago, after our mother had
gone to her rest, we saw in an eastern paper the obituary of Rev.
Abraham Tully, of New Jersey, in which reference was made to these
"Tully boys," stating that the only survivor of that branch of the
family was Andrew, a carriage maker in New York city. Immediately we
procured from the New Jersey family his address and communicated with
him. A cousin of his, the Rev. David Tully, well known and beloved as
the pastor of the Presbyterian church in Jacksonville, Florida, spent
a summer in Minnesota, and calling on me told me he th