Chi-ca-gou; 213. The Chicago Massacre of 1812 IN TWO PARTS AND AN APPENDIX. PART I. Saturday, August Fifteenth, 1812--Narratives of the Massacre. PART II. Historical and Biographical--How the Fort and City were Begun, and Who were the Beginners. APPENDIX. A.--John Baptiste Pointe de Saible. B.--Fort Dearborn in the War Department. C.--The Whistler Family. D.--The Kinzie Family. E.--The Wells and Heald Families. F.--The Bones of John Lalime. G.--Letters From A. H. Edwards. H.--Billy Caldwell, "The Sauganash." I.--Indian War Dance. K.--The Bronze Memorial Group. PART FIRST. SATURDAY, AUGUST FIFTEENTH, 1812. THE morning of Fort Dearborn's fatal day dawned bright and clear over Lake Michigan and the sandy flat. The "reveille" doubtless was sounded before sun-rise; and one can imagine the rattle of the drum and scream of the fife as they broke the dewy stillness and floated away, over the sand-spit and out on the lake; across the river to the Kinzie house and its outbuilding, the Ouillemette house; and up stream to the Indian encampments, large, dark and lowering. Quite possibly the tune then prescribed was the same as that now used for the drum-fife reveille, together with the words that have attached themselves to it of late years: Wake ye lazy soldiers, rouse up and be killed, Hard tack and salt horse, get your gizzard filled. Then go to fighting--fire your forty round-- Fall dead and lay there buried under ground. If this time-honored (and much hated) tune has come down to us from so long, the words had on that morning a significance even more perfect than that ordinarily belonging to them. Early the company cooks must have been at work, boiling whole barrels of salt pork which had been in soak for days beforehand, and as much fresh beef as could possibly be used before spoiling. Bread had doubtless been baked and packed earlier in the week, and now all imaginable preparations for a march of nearly a month must be completed and the utensils packed and loaded into the company wagons. At each of the other, smaller households outside the fort similar toils and cares were going on. How were the lately weaned little ones to be cared for? Perhaps some parents hoped that they could drive their milch-cows with the caravan, seeing that grass was plenty and progress would be necessarily slow. What did the prospective mothers hope and fear? The wife of Phelim Corbin; how did she arm her soul for the month of rough travel, with the travail of child birth as one of its terrors? Certainly the happiest of the crowd were the unconscious little ones, sure of love and care, full of hope and curiosity--a round dozen of them in one wagon, beginning the first journey of their innocent lives--the first and last. Fancy the mothers tucking them in! The eager little faces upturned for good-bye kisses!