cessible Man suddenly became accessible. Nay, he became
gracious, smiling, full of loving-kindness, charitable. Certain
dickerings followed by a bargain passed between the American Minister and
Monsieur Barbe-Marbois. Then Mr. Livingston and Mr. Monroe dined with
the hitherto inaccessible. And the Man, after the manner of Continental
Personages, asked questions. Frederick the Great has started this
fashion, and many have imitated it.

Louisiana became American at last. Whether by destiny or chance, whether
by the wisdom of Jefferson or the necessity of Napoleon, who can say? It
seems to me, David Ritchie, writing many years after the closing words of
the last chapter were penned, that it was ours inevitably. For I have
seen and known and loved the people with all their crudities and faults,
whose inheritance it was by right of toil and suffering and blood.

And I, David Ritchie, saw the flags of three nations waving over it in
the space of two days. And it came to pass in this wise.

Rumors of these things which I have told above had filled Kentucky from
time to time, and in November of 1803 there came across the mountains the
news that the Senate of the United States had ratified the treaty between
our ministers and Napoleon.

I will not mention here what my life had become, what my fortune, save to
say that both had been far beyond my expectations. In worldly goods and
honors, in the respect and esteem of my fellow-men, I had been happy
indeed. But I had been blessed above other men by one whose power it was
to lift me above the mean and sordid things of this world.

Many times in the pursuit of my affairs I journeyed over that country
which I had known when it belonged to the Indian and the deer and the elk
and the wolf and the buffalo. Often did she ride by my side, making
light of the hardships which, indeed, were no hardships to her, wondering
at the settlements which had sprung up like magic in the wilderness,
which were the heralds of the greatness of the Republic,--her country
now.

So, in the bright and boisterous March weather of the year 1804, we found
ourselves riding together along the way made memorable by the footsteps
of Clark and his backwoodsmen. For I had an errand in St. Louis with
Colonel Chouteau. A subtle change had come upon Kaskaskia with the new
blood which was flowing into it: we passed Cahokia, full of memories to
the drummer boy whom she loved. There was the church, the garrison, the