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A Minnesota solider, Eli Pickett, wrote this to
his wife the day the Indians were hanged:
Indian Post, Mankto Dec 26/62 My Dear Phy [Philena], Tis night, clear bright and lonely, and although
I am somewhat weried with the long and tedious exercises of this day, long to be remembered by
the citizens of Minnesota, and by the red race of the Continent, I will never the less try amid
the nois of an excited crowd to drop you a hasty line -- thinking that you would be anxious to
hear from me, and know that I am still alive and well. Well now to the execution. I wrote to
you yesterday afternoon since which time all has been confusion and busy, the constant arrival of
waggons during the night rendered it almost impossible to sleep which would have been out of the
queston if there had been no nois, for we were obliged to take an other company in to our quarters,
which was so crowded that to have got into a horizontal position would have been at the risk of
being stamped on by the noisy and restless crowd, and the stench was so great that we were obliged to
keep both doors open and even then twas to warm for comfort Twas a long and noisy night but the
morning came at last and with it more nois and more duties -- we were in arms at eight o'clock A.M.
and soon the whole of main street was one soled mass of liveing human beings, there was part of
three regiments present under command of Colonel Miller of the Minnesota 7th our company was
placed at the door of the prison to gather with other companies which made a narrow passage
from the door to the gallos they came out some looking pale and sorrowful and some jumping and
laughing. Some of them were striped with paint and some were painted entirely red, some were
gayly smokeing a pipe or cigars while others were seemingly deeply affected with the awful scene
through which they were about to pass -- among the number I noticed two who held each other
tenderly and almost compulsively by the hand they walked or rather ran by twos through the lane to
the scaffold and as they did so they commenced hooping and singing which most disagreeable nois
they kept up untill the fatal cord was cut and the platforms droped from beneath them and they
were left suspended between the heavens and the earth -- there was 48 [actually 38] of them
all told one of them broke his rope and came down but his neck was broken, still he was hung
up again -- they were covered with a blanket and a white cap of coten cloth, which was drawn
down over the face after the rope had been placed about their neck they were followed to the scaffold by
the Catholic priest who had been with them several days -- they were left to hang nearly an hour
and then taken down and loaded onto wagons and driven to the big grave -- and their ends . . .
I have just mailed a [news]paper to you containing a better account than I can give. We are
ordered to march to henderson tomorrow morning and so I shall not be able to write to you for a
number of days . . . I feel almost sad to leave the folks here that I have not got
aqainted with and especially the Lodge and Sabbath school -- but such is the life of a soldier . . .
Phy, I should be glad to fill this sheet but my
eyes won't let me and the confusion is so grate that I don't know as you can read or keep the run
of what I have allready written but you will excuse all mistakes and blunders so good night my derling
Wife and presious Children.
From your affectionate husband and father.
Eli K. Pickett
from Eli K. Pickett papers, Minnesota Historical Society 
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Last modified: August 29, 2002
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