As soon as this drunken crew espied the baggage-wagon, wending its way toward Kansas, they set up a frightful yell, and, making a rush at the horses, called out, “Hallo, stranger! whar are you going? and what are you toting?” “To Lawrence, with a load of household goods,” they replied. “That’s a damned nest of Yankee abolitionists!” cried one. “We’re gwine to wipe it out,” shouted another. “The goods must be overhauled, boys!” bawled a third. It was vain to remonstrate, and useless to fight against such desperate odds. They unloaded the wagons, tore open the boxes, and pulled out the home treasures, which would have been so precious to Alice. The young men pleaded hard for the letters; but the mob said they must carry them to the Governor, to see if there was treason in them. “The Governor shall be informed of this, and if there’s justice to be obtained in the land, we’ll have it,” said the brothers. “Shut up, you damned rascals!” shouted the rabble. “ Git into yer waggin and be off, or we’ll stop yer jawing!” Poor Alice! The blessed words, warm from her mother’s heart, that would have poured such balm into her own, would be used to light the pipes of Missouri ruffians. The quilts, so neatly made by those dear old hands, would be spread on muddy floors for drunken revels. It was hard to bear; but she knew this was only one of a thousand wrongs, and she said, “I will never murmur while my dear good William is spared to me.” From the time of her betrothal, her loving heart had dreamed of a neat little wedded home, cozy and comfortable, with a few simple adornments of pictures and vases. The loosely-built cabins of Kansas, with their rough “cotton-board” floors, brown with prairie mud, had driven away the illusion; but still it hovered there over Mount Oread, and the Mountain Spirits seemed to sing a prophetic song of love and peace in a sunny future. She found the new home provided with more conveniences than the one she had left; for William, in the midst of all his cares, never forgot her, and snatched an hour, whenever he could, to work for her comfort. It was the morning of a sunny day when they entered their new abode, and all things looked neat and cheerful. William, who was reverential by temperament, viewed all the common duties and affairs of life in a religious light. They stood for a moment, hand in hand, gazing at the humble little cabin, with moistened eyes. Then he removed his hat, and looking earnestly to heaven, he threw water on the roof, saying, “I baptize thee the Freeman’s Home. May the blessing of God descend upon thee!” There was a saddened pleasure in thus consecrating their encampment in the wilderness.