fee mill (one of the old fashioned kind,
fastened to the wall.) I filled it with wheat and went to work. Never
shall I forget those long hours of grinding to furnish bread for five in
the family. Never bread tasted sweeter. Some of the time I would grind
corn for a change and make meal, not, to be sure, the fine meal of
today, but we pronounced it good then. Our coffee was parched rye. While
I was grinding the wheat we had bread only twice a day. At noon, for
three weeks, there was nothing on the table except baked potatoes and
salt. Finally the salt gave out and for four meals we had only potatoes.
At last the flood abated and my father started for Mankato, forty miles
distant, to procure some provisions. The roads were something awful, but
after three days he returned with flour, meal and other needed supplies.
What a rejoicing to see him safely back! I was glad to be released from
my job as miller.

On Aug. 21, '62 a messenger came through our little settlement situated
on East Chain Lakes in Martin County, telling us there seemed to be
trouble at the Indian Agency. It was feared it might prove serious. Our
settlement consisted of six families. As there was scarcely any
ammunition in the neighborhood one of the men started to Mankato, forty
miles distant, to procure some. When he reached Gordon City, half way,
he was told that it would not be safe to proceed. Even if he did he
could get no ammunition, as Gordon City could not secure any and
Minnesota was short. The massacre had begun on outlying country round
New Ulm. Our little settlement awaited anxiously his return. He had left
Saturday morning, Aug. 22nd. Late in the afternoon of that day my father
and mother were away some little distance from the house. I was alone.
Chancing to look out I saw twenty mounted men coming across the prairie.
My heart stood still. Where could I hide? At last I decided to run to
our nearest neighbor's about a quarter of a mile away, warn her and we
could die together. She and her three little children were alone, as it
was her husband who had gone for ammunition. I ran, glancing back once,
I could see the horsemen were increasing their speed. I reached her
house and rushing in said, "Mrs. Fowler, the Indians are coming!"
Calmly, she stood up and with a white face said. "Well we can die here
as well as anywhere." Just then her little girl of eight years with a
child's curiosity ran out and peeped around the corner of the house. She
ca