across the prairies as far as the vision could penetrate. The "Tower" is now a summer resort for the people of Rock Island.

In his autobiography Black Hawk says: "In 1827, a young Sioux Indian got lost on the prairie in a snowstorm, and found his way into our village. Although he was an enemy, he was safe while accepting the hospitality of the Sacs. He remained there for some time on account of the severity of the storm. Becoming well acquainted, he fell in love with the daughter of one of the head men of the village where he had been entertained, and before leaving for his own country, promised to come back for her at a certain time during the next summer.

"In July he made his way to the Rock River village, where he secreted himself in the woods until he could meet the maiden he loved, who came out to the field with her mother to assist her in hoeing corn. Late in the afternoon her mother left her and went to the village. No sooner had she got out of hearing, than he gave a loud whistle, which assured the maiden that he had returned. She continued hoeing leisurely to the end of the row, when her lover came to meet her, and she promised to come to him as soon as she could go to the lodge and get her blanket, and together they would flee to his country. But, unfortunately for the lovers, the girl's two brothers had seen the meeting, and after procuring their guns started in pursuit of them. A heavy thunderstorm was coming on at the time. The lovers hastened to and took shelter under a cliff of rocks, at Black Hawk's Watch Tower. Soon after a loud peal of thunder was heard, the cliff of rocks was shattered in a thousand pieces, and the lovers buried beneath, while in full view of her pursuing brothers. This, their unexpected tomb, still remains undisturbed.

"This tower, to which my name has been applied, was a favorite resort, and was frequently visited by me alone, when I could sit and smoke my pipe and look with wonder and pleasure at the grand scenes that were presented by the sun's rays even across the mighty water. On one occasion a Frenchman, who had been making his home in our village, brought his violin with him to the tower, to play and dance for the amuse

ment of a number of our people, who had assembled there, and, while dancing with his back to the cliff, accidentally fell over it and was killed by the fall. The Indians say that always at the same time of the year soft strains of the violin can be heard near that spot.”

The following beautiful word painting by a recent visitor to the tower we take from the Rock Island Union:

BLACK HAWK'S WATCH TOWER.

BY JENNIE M. FOWLER.

"Beautiful tower! famous in history,
Rich in legend, in old-time mystery,
Graced with tales of Indian lore,

Crowned with beauty from summit to shore.

"Below, winds the river, silent and still,
Nestling so calmly 'mid island and hill,
Above, like warriors, proudly and grand,
Tower the forest trees, monarchs of land.
"A landmark for all to admire and wonder,
With thy history ancient, for nations to ponder,
Boldly thou liftest thy head to the breeze,
Crowned with thy plumes, the nodding trees.
"Years now are gone-forever more fled,
Since the Indian erept with eatlike tread,
With moccasined foot, with eagle eye-
The red men our foes in ambush lie.

"The owl still his nightly vigil keeps,
While the river, below him, peacefully sleeps,
The whippoorwill utters his plaintive cry.
The trees still whisper, and gently sigh.

"The pale moon still creeps from her daily rest,
Throwing her rays o'er the river's dark breast,
The katydid and cricket. I trow,

In days gone by, chirruped, even as now.

**Indian thy camp-fires no longer are smoldering.

Thy bones 'neath the forest moss long have been moldering,
Great Spirit" claims thee. He leadeth thy tribe.

The

To new hunting-grounds not won with a bribe.

** On thy Watch Tow'r the pale face his home now makes,
His dwelling, the site of the forest tree takes.
Gone are thy wigwams, the wild deer long fed,
Black Hawk, with his tribe, lie silent and dead"

"THE WHITE MAN'S FRIEND."

Copy of portrait owned by Judge Geo. M. Hollenback.

CHAPTER XII.

SHABBONA, THE WHITE MAN'S FRIEND-THE CELEBRATED POTTAWATOMIE CHIEF.

Τ

S Saul also among the prophets?" Is Shabbona classed among the famous Indian chiefs? He who was only chief of a small band or village?

Yes, and for the best of reasons.

"Howe 'er it be, it seems to me,

"Tis only noble to be good;

Kind hearts are more than coronets,

And simple faith than Norman blood."

However, we will tell the story of his life, and let the reader judge whether he is rightly classified.

According to his own statement he was born in an Ottawa village about the beginning of the Revolutionary War, in the year 1775 or 1776.

We have before us, as we write, three different sketches of his life, and though they all agree as to the date, they mention three distinct birthplaces, widely separated. Thus we find that Matson, his principal biographer, says "he was born at an Indian village on the Kankakee River, in what is now Will County, Illinois." Caroline M. McIlvane, librarian of the Chicago Historical Society, in her interesting sketch of Shabbona, says, “he was born at an Indian village on the Maumee River"; while one of the speakers at the dedication of the Shabbona monument, which occurred at Morris, Illinois, October 23, 1903, said: "Shabbona was born at the principal village of the Ottawas in Canada." Who shall decide when the doctors disagree?

His father, a nephew of the illustrious Pontiac, was a warchief of the Ottawas, and was undoubtedly a man of ability,