“Oh! sweet is the longed-for haven of rest! And dear are the loved ones we oft have caressed! And fair are the home scenes that gladden the view-- The far-wooded hills stretching up to the blue, The lake’s limpid splendor, the circling shore, The fell and the forest, the mead and the moor, Are clustered with mem’ries and, though we may roam, Their charm ever guides us and whispers of home!” --Anna C. Scanlan. The thought of returning to their home filled the girls’ hearts with such joy as was possible under their circumstances. When they arose on the morning of their departure from Gratiot’s Grove, everything was inspiring. Never before had the birds sung more sweetly nor had the flowers looked more beautiful. The whole village was astir early, and probably there was not one of the inhabitants who failed to appear to bid the girls good-bye. Capt. Gratiot’s wife made the girls some nice presents and had so endeared herself to them that although they had known her but a very short time, they left her with tears, and in tears. Finally, all being ready, with a convoy of soldiers the girls continued their journey to White Oak Springs (10 miles northeast of Galena), near which they formerly lived and where they had many friends. It was then a mining village of considerable size, but not so charming as Gratiot’s Grove. There was a fort with soldiers at the place, and all was in readiness to receive the girls. As some of their relatives lived near the place, going there seemed to them like going home. One of the first surprises that the girls had, was to meet their brother John who they thought had been murdered at Indian Creek. He had been mustered into the militia and was stationed at Galena, but was granted indefinite absence to go to meet his sisters and accompany them home. At White Oak Springs they received a letter from their former pastor, Rev. R. Horn, who had a mission on the Illinois River where Robert Scott, an uncle of the girls, lived. The letter was full of kindness and invited the girls to come to the Horn residence and make it their home. From that time on, all arrangements were made to that end. On the night of June sixteenth, great excitement was caused by a messenger riding into the town and announcing that the battle of the Peckatonica (18 miles northeast) had been fought, that all the Indians that participated in it had been killed, and that many of the whites had fallen. The shocking particulars, which were loathing to the girls, were told and retold. They had seen human blood spilled and they knew what such a sight meant, so it simply renewed their horror.