Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

226 ANNALS OF OUR ANCESTORS
black. Soon we were walking down the gangplank, and our
feet touched the soil of a new world — the great Northwest.
The coaches, we learned, were those of the Burbank line,
and did the freighting from St. Paul to the far North in winter,
as well as carrying passengers from Prairie du Chien to the
farthest forts. With our trunks in the boot, we were now
comfortably rolling about on the heavy, elliptical springs and
on our way to Anoka. The vast amount of freighting done
by that company, even fifty years ago, would make an interesting
page in history. They owned the entire route along the
upper Mississippi, although when that river was open and
entirely free from ice there was not so much need of the stage
coach; but in winter they were a necessity. With their four
horses, their fine fur robes, and fur-coated drivers they made a
picture of luxury which lent a charm to winter voyaging over
the sparkling snow. I remember to have met one of these
luxurious turnouts on our way along the river bank. Sometimes
in the cold winters of the North they used the river as a
highway. Stories are told of airholes, of horses falling through
into the water, and of their rescue by means of halters thrown
over their heads to raise them and keep them from sinking till
they could be helped out alive. Many a tragic tale is told of
airholes in the ice of the Mississippi.
All along the trail, every few miles, was a fine hostelry
prepared to entertain travelers or, as an old settler is quoted
as saying, "to detain travelers in a hostile manner." With
boats in summer and stage coaches in winter the track was
kept open all the year around. Thus the frontier forts were
fed by Burbank freight wagons up as far north as Fort Abercrombie.
We met them every hour in the day as they toiled
through the deep sand along the river road; we saw on this
wedding trip of ours the primitive methods of traffic in the
great state of Minnesota.
On Saturday we reached Anoka and stayed all night with
an old friend and teacher of Mr. Frost — Mrs. Hattie Waterhouse.
My husband's people were living in St. Francis, and
he walked the fifteen miles over there to see them, returning
with a horse and buggy for me. As we drove along I found