nd prison. She recalls distinctly the
interest the people felt in seeing the savages who had been the authors
of such atrocities.

In February of 1863, our regiment was sent to Forest City to build a
stockade for the protection of the settlers. From there we marched
across country to Camp Pope, where the main forces were being assembled,
preparatory to our expedition across the plains to the Missouri river a
few miles below where Bismarck now stands. We had no fresh water on this
trip and were also on half rations for two months. When we finally
reached the river we rushed in to fill our canteens, when the Indians
suddenly opened fire on us from the opposite bank. Fortunately they
fired over our heads with but few casualties. While we were halted at
the river, Gen. Sibley, who had remained at his headquarters, two miles
in our rear, sent a message to Col. Crooks, carried by an officer with
his orderly. Col. Crooks received the message, wrote his answer leaning
on his saddle, and the messengers started back to Gen. Sibley with the
reply. On our return trip we found the bodies of this officer and his
orderly horribly mutilated. The Indians had come up in our rear and
encountered them as they rode back to camp.

MINNEAPOLIS CHAPTER

CAROLINE ROGERS SHEPLEY

(Mrs. O. H. Shepley)

FLORENCE SHEPHERD LITTLE

(Mrs. F. W. Little)

MARY SHERRARD PHILLIPS

(Mrs. Alonzo Phillips)

Mrs. Helen Godfrey Berry--1849.

My part in the history of the Godfrey house is the first chapter. My
idea of geography in 1847--at the age of eight years--was that Maine was
the only state and that Bangor was not far from Boston in size and
importance. "Out West" was a wonderland in my child mind. I did not
realize when or how my father, Ard Godfrey, went so far from home as to
St. Anthony Falls, but I did realize his return to take my mother and us
children west. My father was obliged to leave us with our relatives,
Alex. Gordon's family. We stayed in Beloit, Wisconsin for the winter.
He, with Capt. John Rollins and some others went through on ponies, or
as best they could travel. Cold weather had stopped the boats from
running. That trip was one they did not forget and often told of it.

In the spring of '49 we took a stage coach from Beloit, with our baggage
strapped on behind. I remember well the black mucky mud we rode through,
the wheels sinking in to the hubs first on one side then the other.
Father met us in St. Paul and we