A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS by AMANDA M. DOUGLAS Author of “A Little Girl in Old Boston,” “A Little Girl in Old Detroit,” “A Little Girl in Old Washington,” etc. New York Dodd, Mead & Company 1903 Copyright, 1903. By Dodd, Mead and Company. Published, September, 1903. Burr Printing House, New York. CONTENTS CHAPTER I—RENÉE DE LONGUEVILLE CHAPTER II—OLD ST. LOUIS CHAPTER III—A NEW HOME CHAPTER IV—THE SOWING OF A THORN CHAPTER V—WITH A TOUCH OF SORROW CHAPTER VI—BY THE FIRESIDE CHAPTER VII—AT THE KING’S BALL CHAPTER VIII—THE SURPRISE CHAPTER IX—PRISONERS CHAPTER X—IN THE WILDERNESS CHAPTER XI—WAS EVER WELCOME SWEETER CHAPTER XII—HER ANSWER CHAPTER XIII—PASSING YEARS CHAPTER XIV—AT THE BALL CHAPTER XV—GATHERING THISTLES CHAPTER XVI—THE RISE IN THE RIVER CHAPTER XVII—RIVALS CHAPTER XVIII—A FINE ADJUSTMENT CHAPTER XIX—THIS WAY AND THAT CHAPTER XX—WHEN A WOMAN WILL CHAPTER XXI—FROM ACROSS THE SEA CHAPTER XXII—A NEW ST. LOUIS Cities that have grown from small hamlets seldom keep register of their earlier days, except in the legends handed down in families. St. Louis has the curious anomaly of beginning over several times. For the earliest knowledge of how the little town looked I wish to express my obligations for some old maps and historical points to Mr. Frederick M. Crunden, Public Librarian, Miss Katharine I. Moody, and Colonel David Murphy. A. M. Douglas. CHAPTER I RENÉE DE LONGUEVILLE The bell had clanged and the gates of the stockade were closed. There were some houses on the outside; there was not so much fear of the Indians here, for the French had the art of winning them into friendship. Farms were cultivated, and the rich bottom lands produced fine crops. Small as the town was twenty years before the eighteenth century ended, it was the headquarters of a flourishing trade. The wisdom of Pierre Laclede had laid the foundation of a grand city. The lead mines even then were profitably worked, and supplied a large tract of the Mississippi River east and west. Antoine Freneau stood a few moments in the door of his log hut, down by the old Mill Creek, listening with his hand to one ear. There were sounds of spring all about, but he was not heeding them. Then he turned, closed the door, which was braced on the inner side with some rough iron bands; fastened it with the hook, and let down a chain. He was seldom troubled with unexpected evening visitors. The log hut was hidden at the back with trees enough to form a sort of grove. It had two rooms. This at the front was a sort of miscellaneous storehouse. Freneau did quite a trade with the Indians and the boatmen going up and down the river. There was no real attempt at orderly store-keeping. Articles were in heaps and piles. One had almost to stumble over them.