The battle-ground of Tippecanoe, the scene of General Harrison’s dearly-bought triumph, after the lapse of three-quarters of a century, is as quiet and green as a village churchyard. A low white paling fence surrounds it, and the trees are tall and carefully pruned of undergrowth. Mounds, so frequently observed in the west, and here and there a quaint wooden headboard marks the spot of some brave soldier’s fall. The train as it rushes from Lafayette, Indiana, through what was formerly a wilderness, to the west, gives the traveller but a moment to look upon this historic spot, where on that fatal 7th of November morning, the Indians rushed unexpectedly upon the weary troops, sleeping after the exhaustive fatigue of travel, and met with a defeat that made the spot famous. After the battle of Tippecanoe, General Harrison removed his family to Cincinnati, and accepted the position of Major-General in the forces of Kentucky, then about to march to the relief of the Northwestern Territory. Mrs. Harrison was thus left a comparative stranger in Cincinnati, with the sole charge of her young and large family of children during the greater part of the war of 1812. During this time, several of the children were prostrated by long and severe illness, and to this trial was added the painful anxiety attending the fate of her husband. But under these and all afflictions, Mrs. Harrison bore up with the firmness of a Roman matron, and the humility and resignation of a tried Christian mother. In 1814, General Harrison resigned his position in the army and went to live at North Bend, fifteen miles below Cincinnati, on the Ohio. In the limits of this sketch it is impossible to give all the interesting details of Mrs. Harrison’s life during her thirty years’ residence at the old homestead. Many, very many of her acts of neighborly kindness and Christian charity will never be known on earth, for she shrank from any display of benevolence. General Harrison being much from home, engaged in public affairs, she was left in the control of her large family of ten children, and ofttimes the children of her friends and neighbors. Schools in that new and unsettled country were “few and far between,” and Mrs. Harrison always employed a private tutor. The generous hospitality of North Bend being so well known, it was not surprising that many of the children of the neighborhood became inmates of her family for as long as they chose to avail themselves of the privileges of the little school. Although at this time in delicate health, Mrs. Harrison never wearied or complained in the discharge of domestic duties, and forgot the multiplied cares she assumed in the thought of the benefit the children of others would derive from such an arrangement. She was sustained by her husband, and loved by her children and servants, and the burden was lightened spiritually if not materially.