THE GIANT WOLF OF BONAPLACE. 



L. C. Bates. 



The name — Bonaplace — a little Iowa 

 hamlet is a puzzler to antiquari- 

 ans. "Bona" is Spanish for 

 "good ;" but "place" is French; and 

 French for " good-place " would be 

 "Bon-place." If the first settlers had 

 been Scotch, it might be a corruption of 

 Bonnieplace. But the first settlers were 

 three families of uneducated Illinois 

 squatters. Besides, the place never was 

 bonnie. There are pleasanter sites 

 almost anywhere along the river. 

 Another and better theory : There is a 

 precipitous bluff on one side of the river 

 valley, at whose base buffalo bones are 

 often plowed up ; and it is said that 

 buffalo skulls were thickly scattered 

 over the surface when the first settlers 

 came. Hence the conjecture that the 

 name, by which the place had been 

 known for years before the first settlers 

 appeared, was Bonyplace, given by 

 wandering hunters. But the early set- 

 tlers wrote it Bonaplace ; and so it re- 

 mains. 



When the war for the Union broke 

 out, in 1861, the northwest immediately 

 began " hewing its way to the sea." For 

 this work Iowa furnished more than her 

 quota of stalwart volunteers. Among 

 those from Bonaplace the first to enlist 

 was Robert Glisson, only son of one of 

 the richest residents. Strong, active, 

 quick-witted, he soon became perfect in 

 military exercises, proving himself a 

 greyhound to march, a terrier to fight 

 and a bull-dog to stay. Healthy, hand- 

 some, always ready for hard or danger- 

 ous service, with a fine, soldierly figure 

 and movement, recklessly brave, he was 

 the model of a private soldier, and might 

 have risen to honorable rank, but for a 

 single fault. He was an irreclaimable 

 scamp ; not a scoundrel, not dishonest, 

 nor dishonorable ; but as full of pranks 

 and with as little sense of dignity as a 

 monkey. Not even a corporalship could 

 be trusted to him without making 

 authority ridiculous. His enlistment 

 was the joy of Bonaplace. It rid the 

 village of an incessant bother, while it 

 gave to the army a bold spirit and a 

 strong arm. 



One of his pranks was inexcusable. 

 The afternoon before leaving the village 

 he took Nelly Cole, whom he had long 

 courted, out for a drive, and the pair 

 did not return until the next day, just 

 as the company was forming to march 

 away, so that he did not have time even 

 to go to his parents and explain. They 

 parted with tears and publicly given 

 kisses, on her part, and she walked, 

 with the parents, wives, sweethearts and 

 friends of the departing heroes, a mile 

 or more along the road ; so that the last 

 object he looked back upon was her tear- 

 wet face and waving kerchief. 



Nelly Cole was a modest, industrious, 

 good girl, an orphan, supporting herself 

 as the village dressmaker and milliner. 

 When the tattle that presently broke out 

 over her escapade came to her ears she 

 was silent ; and when, finally, some good 

 — and curious — women questioned her 

 directly, she declined to explain, simply 

 saying saying that he would speak when 

 he saw fit. No doubt this was foolish ; 

 still there was something admirable in 

 her firm adherence, under such a press- 

 ure, to what were evidently her lover's 

 instructions. So the months passed in 

 doubt, until the day came when she 

 must speak, or forfeit public respect en- 

 tirely. Still she was stubborn, until her 

 boy was born. Then, prostrate with 

 weakness, friendless and alone, save two 

 good women who would not leave her to 

 die, she declared they had driven to 

 Eastville, and were there married by the 

 Reverend James Larkin, with Cyrus 

 Jones, a fellow soldier of Robert's, for 

 witness. That night they stopped at a 

 country hotel which she named. 



Unfortunately, the only point in this 

 statement capable of proof was the night 

 at the hotel. The Reverend James Lar- 

 kin had died a month after the alleged 

 marriage, leaving no record ; Cyrus 

 Jones was killed in the first skirmish 

 of the regiment ; and the girl said that 

 Robert had taken her certificate with 

 him. She showed Robert's letters; but 

 he only wrote at long intervals, and then 

 only addressed her as "Dear Nelly," 

 directing the envelopes to "Miss Nelly 



