4' 
 
 0^' 
 
THE RAMBLER 
 
 IN 
 
 NORTH AMERICA, 
 
 MDCCCXXXII MDCCCXXXIII. 
 
 BY CHARLES JOSEPH LATROBE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE "ALPENSTOCK," ETC. 
 
 " Cflelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt." 
 
 HOR. EPiST. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NE W-YORK: 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET, 
 
 AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT TBB 
 UNITED STATES. 
 
 183 5. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2014 
 
 https://archive.org/details/rfmblerinnortham01latr_0 
 
TO 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING, Esq. 
 
 THESE VOLUMES 
 ARE 
 INSCRIBED, 
 IN TOKEN OF AFFECTIONATE ESTEEM 
 AND REMEMBRANCE, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 or 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Page 
 
 Lettrr I. — Introduction 13 
 
 Letter II. — French Quarantine — Departure from Europe — The 
 Havre Packet-ship — The Voyage — Mates — Emigrants — Live Stock 
 —Mocking-bird — The Bermudas — Sandy Hook— The Quarantine, 
 Staten Island— The New World . 21 
 
 Letter III. — The New World — Renewal of Early Feelings — 
 View from the Heights of Staten Island — The Bay of New-York — 
 Peculiar beauty of New-York — Philadelphia — Baltimore — Wash- 
 ington — The Spring — Distinct Character of the Verdure in Europe 
 and America — Maryland Strawberry-parties — Vale of the Patapsco 
 — The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad — The Point of Rocks — Har- 
 per's Ferry — The River of the Woods — The Manor — Characteris- 
 tics of American Scenery — Absence of the Picturesque — Presence of 
 the SubHme 27 
 
 Letter IV. — Quit New- York for New-England — Vale of the 
 Connecticut — Hartford — Northampton — -Early History of the New 
 England Colonies — Love of the early Settlers for the Mother Coun- 
 try — The Colonies essentially Republican from their Foundation — 
 Boston — New-Hampshire — Winnipisseogee Lake — The White 
 Mountains — Spontaneous Vegetation — The Notch — Mount Wash- 
 ington — Scenery of the White Hills — Vermont — The Green Hills 
 — Royalton, Description of — Character of the Inhabitants of New 
 
 England — Saratoga — Niagara 42 
 
 Letter V. — Absence of Nationality of Character in the United 
 States — Sensitiveness to Foreign Censure — The real Claims of 
 America to Respect . 59 
 
1 
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Letter VI. — Niagara — The Past and Present — Scenery of the 
 Falls — Lake Erie — A change of Plan — Removal of the Indians be- 
 yond the Mississippi — Cincinnati 64 
 
 Letter VII. — Settlement of the West — Character of the early 
 Adventurers — Spirit of Restlessness in the M^orld — The French in 
 America — Boone and his Comrades — Original Scenery of Kentucky 
 — The Dark and Bloody Ground — Emigration from the Settled 
 States to — Position of the Settlers — The Regulators — Camp-Meet- 
 ings — Daniel Boone 72 
 
 Letter VIII. — Cincinnati — Louisville — The Rapids — Canal — 
 The Ohio— The Spring Floods, 1832— Voyage of the first Steam- 
 boat on the Western Waters — Earthquakes, effects of, throughout 
 the West — The Ohio — The Mississippi — St. Louis — Black Ilawk 
 — ^Preparations for departure to the Indian Country — St. Charles 83 
 
 Letter IX. — The Missouri — Tonish — Mode of Travel — Char- 
 acter of the country in the State of Missouri — Buildings — Poul- 
 try-hunt — Thirty mile Prairie — Flora of the Prairies — ^The Santa 
 Fe Traders — Arrival at Independence . 98 
 
 Letter X. — Rendezvous at Independence — Description of a 
 Frontier Town — The Ferry — The Missouri, Features of, and Phe- 
 nomena connected w^ith — -The " Clearing" — A Quilting Frolic — A 
 Farm in the Backwoods — The Commissary- General — Horse-deal- 
 ing — Mr. Elisha Pike — The Shawanese Agency — Final Departure 
 for the Osage Country 103 
 
 Letter XI. — Description of a Frontier March — Characters — The 
 Colonel — The Commissioner — The Doctor — William — The Pre- 
 v6t — Tonish — Dogs — Camping scenes . .115 
 
 Letter XII. — The Prairies — Mission Settlement — Harmony — ' 
 The Great Osage River — Indian Costumes — Morning on the Prai- 
 ries — The Osage Country — " The Destroyer of Cities" — Indian 
 March, and Indian Encampments — The Osage — -The Indian Tribes, 
 their Condition, and probable Fate — The Influence of the Whites — 
 The Indian System— The Neosho — The Saline — Western Creek 
 Agency 122 
 
 Letter XIII. — Preparations for a fresh Departure — Projects 
 abandoned, and projects embraced — The Departure — The Setting 
 Sun — Antoine — Beatte, a half-breed Hunter — The River Arkansas 
 — The Rangers — The Bee-Camp — Bald Hill — The Approach to the 
 Ford— The Red Fork— The Skunk— The Ford of the Arkansas— 
 The Bear's Glen — Cooking Camp 136 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 vii 
 
 Letter XIV. — Cooking Camp — The Rangers — Their Pastimes 
 and Characters — The American Rifle — Enjoyments of Hfe in the 
 Prairies— The Valley of the Red Fork— The Western Desert— The 
 Pawnee — The Bison — Pawnee sign — The Camp of the Wild Horse 
 — Preparations for War — " Uncle Sam" — Beatte and the Wild Horse 
 — Passage of the Red Fork 149 
 
 Letter XV. — The Cross Timbers — An Alarm — Mischances — 
 Character of the Cross Timbers — The Osage Camp — The North 
 Fork — Chase of Wild Horses — Tonish's Exploits — Rencounter with 
 a party of Osage Warriors — The Wet Camp — Proceedings in ditto 
 Uncle Sam"— The Big Prairie— The Bison Chase— A Comrade 
 lost 163 
 
 Letter XVL — Sequel to the Bison Chase — A lost Comrade 
 tracked and found — The Great Canadian — Prairie Dogs — Return to 
 the Fort— Deep Creek — Character of the Return — State of the 
 Party — Western Creek Agency 179 
 
 Letter XVIL — Proceedings after Return to the Agency — Ton- 
 ish — Further Traits of Character — The Rangers — Fort Gibson — 
 The Prairie-Fowl — Arrangements for Return to the Eastward — 
 Adieu to Fort Gibson — The Canoe — The River Arkansas — A week 
 upon its surface — Frenchmen Jack's — State of the Country, past 
 and present — Features of the River — Sergeant Waddle, and Private 
 Connoughty — Flights of Birds of Passage — The Ozark Mountains 
 — Little Rock — Adieu to the Far West — Our Acquisitions — Decoy- 
 ing — Passage from Little Rock to the Mississippi — The Post of 
 Arkansas — White River — Montgomery's Point — The " Father of 
 Waters," its Features and Phenomena .186 
 
 " Letter XVHL — The Cavalier, Steamboat — The Mississippi and 
 Ohio — Sharpers — Distinction between the Eastern and Western 
 Boats — Description of the latter — Scenes on board — Wooding — 
 The Firemen— The Keptucky Swell— The Ohio— Wheeling— Bal- 
 timore 214 
 
 Letter XIX. — Temper of Foreigners in foreign Countries — 
 American Travellers in Europe — English Travellers in America 232 
 
LETTER I 
 
 TO F. B. L. 
 
 We have both, by this time, become aware of a 
 melancholy truth. We have both seen, that, however 
 a common lot may be awarded to the young members 
 of a family in early life ; to whatever degree a common 
 education may strengthen the natural affection im- 
 planted in their bosoms — blend together their youthful 
 associations, and form their tastes on the same models ; 
 — in fine, however potent the spell which pervades 
 their spirits, and seems to unite their hearts indis- 
 solubly together — the approach of manhood rarely fails 
 to scatter the little band to the four winds ; and the 
 time comes when long periods of separation and ab- 
 sence, though they may not choke a generous interest, 
 or stifle affection, must impair, if not destroy inti- 
 macy. Epistolary correspondence may, it is true, offer 
 under most circumstances a partial remedy, and to 
 that we have hitherto had recourse to fill the chasms 
 produced in our intimacy, from having for many years 
 pursued diverging paths. May we never quite neg- 
 lect it ! 
 
 You may recollect, that when boys at school, I 
 seemed, as you were my junior, to have a certain 
 natural right to stretch the sceptre of patronage over 
 you. When fatigued of looking up to my two elder 
 brothers as models of scarcely attainable perfection 
 and wisdom, it was encouraging to turn and cast a 
 glance of complacency on you, with the reflection, 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
 4 
 
14 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 that in your eyes at least, I must appear a' personage 
 of equally superior intelligence. At this later day the 
 doubt may well occur to me, whether the two or three 
 years by which I was your senior, had in fact given 
 me a very decided advantage over you in moral and 
 physical alertness or power. This however I keep in 
 remembrance, that you certainly looked up to me 
 with a far greater degree of respect than I merited, and 
 with a degree of affection, which, whatever may have 
 been the fate of the former sentiment, has in no degree 
 been diminished by added years, different pursuits, and 
 long terms of separation. 
 
 But it may be admitted, that even at the present day, 
 when both are well advanced in manhood, there still 
 exists a certain weakness in my manner of looking 
 upon you. When addressing you as at the present 
 time, I persuade myself that in your breast at least 
 there are sentiments which will prove far stronger than 
 the spirit of criticism. Moreover, I am still, without 
 fear of contradiction, a few years older, and if I dare 
 presume to instruct and amuse any one, it may be 
 yourself. In this spirit I take up my pen to reply to 
 your last letter. 
 
 You say you continue to be interested in every step 
 I take, and feel curiosity to follow me through the 
 scenes which have been presented to my view on the 
 opposite shores of the Atlantic. I will try to answer 
 your interest, and satisfy your curiosity, and, as far as 
 circumstances allow, to give you a history of what my 
 comrade and myself have seen, achieved, or suffered 
 for some time past. A period of tranquil and sedentary 
 existence has succeeded to a long term of travel and 
 constant activity, and a portion of its hours cannot, 
 perhaps, be employed to better purpose. 
 
 I might, it is true, as an alternative, send you a 
 portmanteau, full of papers of all descriptions, printed 
 and manuscript, which, in spite of many efforts to the 
 contrary, has been added to my travelling equipage, 
 and, generously telling you that they contain no se- 
 crets, bid you pick and choose, and burn or read, as 
 
■4r 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 15 
 
 you may feel inclined. But in so acting, I should do 
 you no justice, and myself perhaps yet less. 
 
 I may be mistaken in my estimate of your peculiar 
 taste, and in my judgment as to that part of the heap 
 which would be most in accordance with it. Tastes 
 differ. I received a letter while in America from a 
 common friend of ours, one worthy of both attention 
 and esteem, and one whom I should be proud to 
 oblige. It was in return to one of mine, which I had 
 closed with a well-meant inquiry, whether I could be 
 of any service to him. The following is an extract 
 from the reply : " We have had plenty of descriptions 
 of the American House of Representatives, the Presi- 
 dent's levee. Tell me how the poor are provided 
 for ; — what sort of people are the overseers ? — have 
 they vestry meetings for the relief of the poor ? How 
 are the work-houses arranged and regulated ? What 
 is the bill of fare in such places ? What do the 
 inmates cost per head ? Are they farmed or not ? Is 
 there any remnant of a religious establishment ? Rail- 
 ways, are they increasing ? Do they pay or not V and 
 so forth ; the whole concluding with this pithy piece 
 of advice, " let your letters, in short, be about men, 
 and not about mountains ; and let them inform me of 
 what I have never heard, not what has been presented 
 to the world a hundred times before." 
 
 What do you say to this ? It was, in my humble 
 opinion, treating a gentleman in search of the pic- 
 turesque no better than a church-warden. There was 
 the advantage of having a political economist for a 
 correspondent ! In you I have, at any rate, the com- 
 fort of believing that I may indulge in less prosaic 
 and less matter-of-fact subjects. He might as w^ell 
 have required me to furnish him with a set of essays 
 upon the casuistical divinity of the middle ages ; and 
 well it is for you that I know how to interpret your 
 expressions of curiosity, or you might fare as ill as 
 R., who to this day has never received an answer to 
 his queries, though I was far from being indisposed to 
 gratify him, had I been able. Had he asked me to 
 
16 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 give him intelligence about geological phenomena, the 
 courses of rivers, the Indian tribes-^to inform him 
 which was the most approved mode of hunting a bear, 
 or catching a raccoon, I should have known to whom 
 to apply, and how to obtain the necessary knowledge ; 
 but about poor-rates and poor-houses, the rent of 
 pews, and the success of the voluntary system, I never 
 could get any but the most vague and partial intel- 
 ligence. 
 
 I asked one gentleman, for example, how the poor 
 of his town were provided for ? He answered promptly, 
 " Poor, sir ! — weJiave none." Of course all the suc- 
 ceeding queries which I was fully prepared to put, fell 
 to the ground. 
 
 In other places I perhaps fared better, and found 
 that there were absolutely poor people, and did not fail 
 to make notes of all the information I gleaned. But I 
 soon grew tired of my quest on this and other like 
 points of interest, and the prosaic company into which 
 it introduced me ; and more than all, of the endless 
 shades of distinction in the systems under trial, among 
 a people spread over such a vast extent of country, and 
 under such very different circumstances. This led me 
 to change my mode of proceeding. I got possession 
 of all the books and pamphlets, right and left, which 
 appeared to shed light, or to bear upon these and simi- 
 lar subjects of general interest, and these are all at 
 your service, and especially at that of our worthy friend. 
 Therefore, when you see him, pray tell him so, but ad- 
 vise him not to apply to me either by letter or orally 
 for such information. 
 
 Our brief period of intercourse in town, during the 
 winter of 1831-2, made you aware of the principal 
 objects of my proposed visit to the United States of 
 America ; and also of the feelings which predominated 
 in the anticipation of it. 
 
 Whatever natural regrets were involved in a de- 
 parture from Europe, there was little but pleasure in 
 anticipation. Without a feeling of satiety, much less 
 of disgust, to spur me forward, I was content to turo 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 17 
 
 my back for a season on the society and scenery of 
 the Old World, and look forward with a sensation 
 of undefined pleasure and curiosity to those western 
 climes, whose characteristics were so different from any 
 I had yet seen. I longed to wander among the details 
 of that sublime scenery which the fancy associates with 
 the New World, as so peculiarly her own : her wide- 
 spread streams, interminable forests, and foaming cata- 
 racts ; and to be a guest in the lodges of that race, of 
 whom men speak as doomed speedily to disappear 
 from the face of the earth. 
 
 I desired to follow into their places of refuge and 
 retreat, the crowd of human beings which the last two 
 centuries had sent in annual swarms upon the pathway 
 opened across the great western waters by the con- 
 stancy and patient daring of Columbus ; men of all 
 nations, of all ranks and degrees, — those of unsullied 
 purity of life and character, and others who were 
 steeped to the lips in crime ; — the patriot, the dreamer 
 after Utopian schemes of happiness or liberty; — men 
 goaded by political and religious persecution ; — the 
 disappointed in heart and purpose ; — hundreds incited 
 by speculation, thousands by poverty ;— the tens of 
 thousands who, having all to hope and nothing to lose, 
 had disappeared from the countries of the East, had 
 gone and seemingly buried themselves under the deep 
 shade of the western forest, or beneath the tall grass of 
 the western prairie. 
 
 Preparatory to this visit, my efforts were more 
 negative than positive ; by which expression is meant, 
 that I attempted to keep my imagination and my mind 
 unbiased and uninfluenced by preconceived notions, 
 from whatever source they might be drawn, rather 
 than, by reading the works, or listening to the opinions 
 of preceding travellers, to run the hazard of adding 
 the prejudices of others to my own. As a foreigner, 
 and, above all, an Englishman, about to travel in a 
 country where comparison would force itself on the 
 mind at every turn, it was to be feared that there were 
 obstacles already existing in my own bosom, in the 
 
 2* 
 
18 
 
 LETTER 1. 
 
 way of forming a sound, unbiased judgment of men 
 and things. Education, habit, political bias, and tastes, 
 might all be arrayed on the opposite side, even sup- 
 posing there were an absence of violent and uncon- 
 trollable prejudice. For the rest, I flattered myself 
 that I had some advantages to counterbalance the 
 great disadvantage of being born within the sound of 
 Bow Bells. I laid some claim to the character of an 
 old traveller, having seen divers countries besides my 
 own. Difficulties and asperities which might disgust 
 others from their novelty, might not work with equal 
 eflfect on the temper of one, whose European rambles 
 had made him pretty fully acquainted with both the 
 rough and the smooth passages of a traveller's life. 
 Providential circumstances had, as you are aware, 
 prepared for me a home, and a place in society, 
 as long as I should remain in America. I was, as 
 you may recollect, no very violent politician ; and 
 was inclined, whether from natural indolence or dull 
 good-nature, to allow a very considerable diversity of 
 opinion in my neighbour, as long as he took care not to 
 contradict me. 1 had seen enough of mankind in 
 divers countries, to believe that no system of govern- 
 ment is of general application, and that the govern- 
 ment must be made to suit the people, and not the 
 people to suit the government. I loved my own 
 country and its institutions better than any other on 
 the face of the earth, and had no fear of giving a pre- 
 ference to any other, however its peculiar advantages 
 might excite my admiration : and I need hardly add, 
 that no change has been wrought in this feeling, in 
 which I hope to live and die. I possessed in my 
 friend and your acquaintance, young Count de Pour- 
 tales, a cheerful and accomplished travelling com- 
 panion, who, I believe, was bent like myself on 
 forming opinions from observation. We wished to 
 identify ourselves as much as possible for the time 
 being, with the feelings of the people we were going 
 to visit ; and, as long as we were among them, to 
 try to feel with them as far as it was reasonable 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 19 
 
 to do so. Lastly, I resolved that nothing should 
 tempt me into the manufacture of a book, a resolu- 
 tion which I have magnanimously maintained to this 
 moment. 
 
 And now I still ask your patience, not while I 
 make promises as to what I intend to do, but rather 
 while 1 warn you as to certain things which you must 
 not expect from me. Take my letters for what they 
 are worth. If you find it a trouble to read them, 
 be sure that it has cost me yet more to write them ; 
 and, moreover, if you find me at any time particularly 
 dull, as some one has said before me, be sure that 1 
 have a design in it. 
 
 It is not my intention in a general way to give you 
 descriptions of places and scenes described a thousand 
 times. You will not look to me for elaborate sketches 
 and dissertations on transatlantic politics, for I am 
 quite ready to own my poverty of satisfactory infor- 
 mation on that head. Virulence of party, with all its 
 concomitants of misrepresentation, falsification, and 
 personality, is found within the United States in as 
 great a degree as within the bounds of Britain ; and 
 leaves little for a stranger like myself to do, after at- 
 tempting to pry into the state of politics in America, 
 whether by means of the public prints, or of private 
 inquiry, more than to turn away with mingled disgust 
 and despair. 
 
 You must not expect pages of statistical informa- 
 tion ; relations of stage-coach, steamboat, and tap- 
 room colloquies with Captain This or Judge That; 
 anecdotes abounding in slang, and stories at second- 
 hand ; much less, sly peeps into the interior of families 
 who may have exercised the rites of hospitality towards 
 the stranger. 
 
 As to the first, you may find them elsewhere ; and, 
 moreover, how^ever correct at the time I might have 
 procured them, they would probably be erroneous by 
 the time you might wish to draw deductions from 
 them. The second and third have now neither novelty 
 nor good taste to recommend them ; and as to the last, 
 
20 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 you may miss a great deal of egregious amusement, 
 but I respect myself, even if I did not love my neigh- 
 bour, too much, ever to repay the confiding hospitality 
 of private families by such cold-blooded displays of 
 disloyalty. 
 
 I have been now for ten years more or less a 
 wanderer; and if any man should have learned to 
 revere hospitality, and entertain a horror of the term 
 * ungrateful guest,' surely I should be that man. 
 There is something in the warm, unchecked, and open- 
 hearted conduct of a family circle, which should ever 
 prevent the stranger from judging what he there wit- 
 nesses with a cold eye and heart, as though he had 
 nothing in common with it. Modern philosophy, it is 
 true, finds an apology for this, but what is that to you 
 or me ? 
 
 As to the rest, commonsense and common reflec- 
 tion will show you, the more you see of human society, 
 high or low, at home or abroad, that there exists 
 scarcely any modification of it that has not its 
 ridicules.''^ Few, if any, are regulated by such un- 
 questionable laws of good sense and propriety in every 
 particular, as not to give legitimate cause for ridicule. 
 Every one aflfords matter for caricature. None is so 
 perfect that the satirist and the cynic may not see 
 abundant occasion for a sneer; and, moreover, at the 
 present day, a greater degree of neglect and contempt 
 will frequently be awarded to any ignorance of, or 
 deviation from, rules, fancies, and fashions, the adop- 
 tion of which is but conventional and capricious, than 
 to absolute departures from moral rectitude, and sound 
 principle. 
 
 I regret that my prefatory epistle has proved so long, 
 but I now bring it to a decent conclusion. 
 
FRENCH QUARANTINE. 
 
 21 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 You are aware when and how I left London for 
 Paris in March, 1832 ; having, in consequence of the 
 appearance of the cholera in England, determined to 
 set sail from a French port in preference to an English 
 one. You will doubtless remember also, how, at the 
 very outset, I found myself entrapped with a whole 
 steamboat load of my migratory fellow-countrymen, 
 by our French neighbours at Calais, and that we were 
 cooped up in durance vile, to perform unwilling qua- 
 rantine in an old dilapidated fort without the town 
 walls, in spite of reiterated protestations and expostu- 
 lations of 'Mais, Monsieur, je ne suis pas cholerique ! 
 Mais, Monsieur, mafemmeet moi sommes ires presses P 
 &c. There is something ludicrous, as well as vexa- 
 tious, in disappointment, and there were certain among 
 us who did not fail to extract a good deal of amuse- 
 ment from the unquestionably disagreeable position 
 into which we found ourselves suddenly transported, 
 and which we had subsequently to endure for three 
 long days. 
 
 I might amuse you with sundry pictures of men 
 and manners as they then moved before me ; rejoicing 
 your English heart with sly remarks upon our Gallic 
 neighbours. I might tell you how, on our approach 
 to the wharf, the French craft, great and small, and 
 the rogues in them, got out of our w^ay as if we had 
 been a fire-ship ; how busily fumigation was carried 
 on by a bunch of sanatory officers, peering out of a 
 temporary hut, while, baboon-like, they made a cat's- 
 paw of a poor doctor ; how we were given over 
 by the medical authority to the civil — by the civil to 
 the military — and finally handed over to no authority 
 at all, but shut up pell-mell in the old dismantled fort, 
 to live or die, as it might happen, under the protection 
 of the yellow flag. I might describe the miserable 
 
22 
 
 FRENCH QUARANTINE. 
 
 state of all within the forlorn enclosure : how rude 
 barracks of boards formed the sole accommodation, — 
 and how for these we were indebted to the pestilence- 
 defying cupidity of the hotel-keepers of the town 
 alone, the government having provided absolutely 
 no shelter. These huts were capable of housing but 
 thirty out of the hundred sufferers of all ranks, shut 
 up together, and were, of course, filled to suflbcation. 
 It would excite your commiseration to learn, how 
 * first come' was 'first served,' while the rest had 
 to lie on the grass of the ramparts, under the lee of 
 the counterscarp, or wherever they could ; how, 
 moreover, it rained ; how, where the rats gambolled 
 in long undisturbed possession five days before, milord 
 and milady were now glad to lay their dainty heads. 
 The scramble for beds was only equalled by the 
 scramble for board. Sorrow, but not surprise, might 
 be elicited on reading that some of my wise-headed 
 countrymen insulted the health-inspecting dignitaries 
 at their noontide visit, threatened an appeal to the 
 British government for the national outrage perpe- 
 trated on our sacred persons, and that in consequence 
 the time of sorrow was lengthened instead of abridged. 
 You would have been amused to see our motley band 
 of men and women, of all nations and degrees, English, 
 French, Belgians, and Americans ; and you would 
 have marvelled to hear how the English maundered, 
 grumbled, and groaned together ; to see the Belgians 
 play at dominoes and chuck-farthing from morning 
 to night ; to listen to the French singing, smoking, 
 and jesting, repeating constantly ' d la guerre comme 
 d la guerre;^ and, lastly, to watch the American lie 
 from morning to night on his back in the straw, ab- 
 stracted and speculative, with the rain dropping into 
 his ears. 
 
 Moreover, I might tell you how my post was upon 
 the seaward bastion, overlooking the comic scene of 
 petty misery and amusement on one side, and, on the 
 other, the troubled straits, and the long white sea-wall 
 of my own land, and show you how many a warm and 
 
THE VOYAGE. 
 
 - 23 
 
 anxious thought winged its way thither — but all this is 
 foreign to my present purpose. 
 
 The same observation will apply to any detailed 
 notice of my release — journey to Paris — sojourn there 
 — and final departure with M. de Pourtales from the 
 port of Havre de Grace, in the second week in April, 
 in company with Washington Irving, our future com- 
 panion in many a day's adventure. 
 
 A voyage to America is no longer a circumstance 
 worth signalizing as a marvel. It is, as you know, 
 literally, an every-day occurrence. Hundreds, nay, 
 thousands of white sails now bespangle that wide, blue, 
 and restless ocean, which, a few centuries ago, was, in 
 truth, a solitary sea ; and, though I write to one who 
 was never yet out of the limits of the British Isles, I 
 cannot persuade myself that a sheet full of extracts 
 from ^* my log" will add much either to his amusement 
 or instruction. The Havre, such was the name of the 
 stout New- York packet-ship in which we sailed, was a 
 fine vessel, in no whit inferior to the others of her class 
 in build, or in the commodious arrangement of her 
 interior. She was commanded by a high-spirited, 
 generous-hearted, gentlemanly seaman. He was one 
 whose character could not fail to impress the mind 
 favourably with regard to the service and land to 
 which he belonged. He was accused, but wrongfully 
 I think, of having a tendency, in sailor's phrase, to 
 
 spin a long yarn'* now and then, or, in other words, 
 to exaggerate. You may contrive to swallow a tale of 
 considerable size at sea. We were upwards of two 
 hundred on board, and of these one hundred and 
 seventy were steerage passengers. 
 
 You will doubtless know that on a prosperous pas- 
 sage, — and such in fact we had, though not a quick or 
 a direct one — adverse winds, and now and then a rough 
 gale, producing a fearful destruction of the ship's 
 crockery, — extraordinary sights and events are hardly 
 to be looked for. A week or two was sufficient to 
 make us " au fait," as to every phase of our position. 
 The ability to read, with any degree of steadiness on 
 
24 ^ 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 ship-board, is not granted to every one, and I must say, 
 that, to me, a voyage is in that respect nearly lost time, 
 The study of character, however, both of rational and 
 irrational beings around you, may afford a never-failing 
 source of amusement, and, in this instance was truly 
 such to us. 
 
 None of us have forgotten the first mate, little D., 
 a round; fat, good-humoured man — an off-set of the 
 hardy stock of Nantucket, or Martha's Vinyard, I 
 forget which — a narrator of incredible stories about 
 whales. He was proud of bearing the same patro- 
 nymic as a ci-devant president of Yale College. He 
 had scraped a good deal of information together, and 
 had a very laudable desire to add to the stock — was 
 much given to walk the deck, smoke, and philosophize ; 
 and was altogether an unexceptionable character, 
 though he owned that he had been bred a quaker, but 
 had clipped his broad-brim and painted it white the 
 day he came of age. The young second mate was a 
 special favourite, and was generally called " right and 
 left because if he saw any fight among either sailors 
 or steerage passengers, he dashed into it, and before 
 asking a word of explanation, just knocked down the 
 two men nearest him. Names, descriptive of some 
 peculiarity in form or manner, were soon concocted by 
 our little knot of humorists, for all the more noted 
 characters before the mast. 
 
 The position of the poor emigrants — men, women * 
 and children, Jews, French and Germans, stowed 
 a-midships — was at the best unpleasant. As long as 
 the weather was fine, matters went on tolerably 
 smoothly, and we had then chirping and singing 
 enough : but a gale set them all at loggerheads, and 
 rumours of fights and feuds not unfrequently came 
 aft. Three Frenchmen, (Jews and sharpers if they 
 were not maligned,) seemed to be just so many 
 stumbling-blocks to the honest Germans ; and even 
 the quality in the great cabin took a spite against 
 them. One of their number from his oracular and 
 star-bleached countenance, was dubbed Sidrophel, and 
 
THE YOYAGE. 
 
 it was whispered that they conjured up bad and ad*- 
 verse winds. The majority of the steerage passengers 
 were Alsatians and Bavarians, and were speeding, with 
 their little all collected around them, to settle in a new 
 land. They were most of them musically inclined, 
 and when the level beams of the sun began to glance 
 over the bows, they usually gathered in a knot round 
 the mainmast, and sang the songs of their native land^ 
 which they and theirs had now quitted for ever. Many 
 a pleasant hour did we thus spend, as our vessel was 
 gently heaving beneath us^ and pressing toward the 
 setting sun. 
 
 Of our more immediate companions, 1 say nothing : 
 they were in general too well bred to excite much atten- 
 tion. We had a proportion of females and pretty 
 <:hildren among their number, and I add my testimony 
 to that of many, as to the pleasant, chastened, and 
 agreeable air which their presence dispenses on ship'i^ 
 boarde 
 
 But this is not all— do not think I am going to 
 pass by that most fertile field of harmless amusement, 
 the dumb animals on board, among which we num^ 
 bered a cow, ass, divers pigs ; and a numerous, but 
 daily-decreasing horde of ducks, turkies, geese, and 
 poultry—besides a snappish pointer with two whelps, 
 and a setter ; not to forget a tom-cat, several canaries? 
 and last but not least in favour, a mocking-bird, 
 
 Tom seldom made his appearance till about night- 
 fall, and then he might be seen skulking ^lily along, 
 close under the shadow of the spars lashed to the huh 
 warks, always contriving, however, to retreat if de-^ 
 tected. His movements were never quite free from 
 suspicion— and he was no great favourite aft^ in spite 
 of its being alleged, in excuse of his vespernal excur- 
 sions to our end of the ship, that the mice frequenting 
 our state-rooms were his lawful perquisite i and it was 
 soon found that Tom had, in fact^ other ends in view. 
 It was remarked that he had taken a particular fancy 
 to haunt the purlieus of the large wicker cage In which 
 our little musical favourite, the mocking-bird^ wai 
 
 VOL. I* 3 
 
26 
 
 THE VOYAGE 
 
 confined — in preference to all the allurements held out 
 to his attention by the plumper denizens of the coop : 
 and he was frequently detected in its immediate vi- 
 cinity, sitting with an air of great meekness, eyes half 
 shut, as it were, quite lost to the world in sweet en- 
 trancement, while the pretty bird poured forth its 
 melody. But this was all a sham. He had no more 
 ear for music than the ship's counter, and, in fact, he 
 was twice discovered in the attempt to make a meal 
 of our playmate* The second time the whole cabio 
 was in arms, and Tom received such summary punish- 
 ment that he never visited the round-house again. 
 We thus secured the merry little songster's safety. 
 The latter was somewhat capricious, but very divert- 
 ing — sang like the canarj^ qiiacked like the duck^ 
 chirped and cackled like the poultry, mewed like the 
 cat, and finally tucked his little wings close to his side,, 
 and looked up to the mainmast-head like the Captain- 
 
 I have told you that our voyage was protracted^ 
 After long trying to make our way to the northward^ 
 we stood to the south of the gulf-stream, and soon 
 exchanged bleak blowing weather and stormy seas, for 
 gentle breezes, blue skies, and tranquil waters. 
 
 I cannot forget how pleasingly the monotony of our 
 voyage was broken about the middle of May, by our 
 coming within sight of the Bermudas, that little step- 
 ping-stone in the vast ocean between the continents, 
 and how every animate being on board seemed moved 
 Vv^ith the aspect and atmosphere of the land. 
 
 To cut a long voyage and long letter short, I will 
 close by noting the 21st of May as the day when the 
 former ended, by our arriving off Sand}^ Hook, with 
 the heights of Neversink to the left, Long Island to 
 the right, and the deep outer bay of' New- York before 
 us ; and when the sun set over the land, our ship might 
 be seen with sails furled and anchor a-peak rocking on 
 the threshold of the New World. 
 
 The following morning, we advanced with wind and 
 tide through the outer bay and the Narrows, till abreast 
 
STATEN ISLAND. 
 
 27 
 
 the prettiest quarantine ground under the sun, and 
 dropped our anchor off the shore of Staten Island, 
 
 In consequence of the casual indisposition of my 
 comrade, it was thought advisable to stay on board the 
 Havre for a few days, instead of accompanying our 
 fellow-passengers to the city : and it is very compre- 
 hensible that both curiosity and six weeks imprisonment 
 on board, made me glad to while away a few of the 
 hours of detention in a ramble on the green shores and 
 wooded heights^ which were directly in front of our 
 anchor a ge« 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 The New World ! You may imagine, but yoE 
 cannot feel the degree of curiosity with which I first 
 set foot upon it* It may be readily granted that the 
 emotion of interest with which an American steps upon 
 the shores of Europe, must be of a higher character; 
 yet to me, this change of position from countries where 
 the forms of external nature had in a great measure 
 become familiar, and lost the charm of novelty, to 
 another in which she was to appear clothed in a dif- 
 ferent garb, and develope other phenomena, w^as never- 
 theless an epoch in my existence. It was the renewal 
 of youth and boyhood. Many a sensation, to which I 
 had been a stranger for years* returned to the breast 
 after it might seem to have left me for ever. I felt all 
 that excess of prying curiosity into the productions of 
 nature, which had been a strong principle of my soul 
 twenty years before, when we used to explore the vallies 
 of the Air, Wharf, and Calder in concert, bring home 
 pockets stuffed with plants and stones, and heads filled 
 with supposed discoveries. Such they were indeed to 
 us. These fresh and natural feelings of excitement, 
 which had been of course weakened or lost, when every 
 
28 
 
 STATEN ISLAND, 
 
 object had become familiar, and there were no more 
 discoveries to make, now stimulated me as warmly as 
 ever ; and while eagerly examining every tree, shrub, 
 bud, and reptile, that came across my path during my 
 first solitary stroll, I could almost smile at my boyish 
 and buoyant feelingo 
 
 The spring had been tardy in appearance, and un- 
 friendly in its character ; yet as I rose from the margin 
 of the bay, and surmounted the first slope, covered 
 with the straggling village, the lively green of the enclo- 
 sures, the blossoming peach, and other trees, and the 
 budding forest were all delightful to the eye after the 
 monotony of the ocean* The scenery presented by the 
 outer Bay of New-York is not striking, and however 
 we had been pleased to approach the green shores, and 
 gaze upon the fixed and firm land, we had hardly been 
 able to chime in with the enthusiastic expressions of 
 admiration uttered by our American fellow-passengers, 
 as we sailed up the Bay, at the peculiar beauty of their 
 native country. Yet, when, after an interrupted climb, 
 I gained the bightest point of the wooded range above 
 the Narrows, and looked forth upon the wide extended 
 view then spread before me, I did them justice. The 
 knoll upon which I stood rose above the wooded skirts 
 of the hills, and immediately overlooked the Narrows to 
 the right, with its forts, and the long, green, cultivated 
 shores of Long Island beyond. To the south-west the 
 eye gained a glimpse, over the back of the Island, of 
 the strait separating it from the main shore of New 
 Jersey, the undulating outline of which formed the 
 horizon in that direction. Directly over the village 
 below, rising with its clean white edifices on the mar- 
 gin of the Bay, you saw spread before you, the 
 capacious inner harbour, with the distant city, and the 
 entrance to the Hudson, stretching far inland in the 
 perspective, a broad expanse of water dotted with in- 
 numerable sails. The wind was fair for the passage 
 of the Narrows, and many a noble ship was passing the 
 Quarantine ground, and steering under their white cloud 
 of canvass for the distant outlet into the Ocean, which 
 
BAY OF NEW YORK. 
 
 29 
 
 appeared distinctly to the southward, over the long, low 
 point of Sandy Hook, The feature of the landscape, 
 whose mere outlines I have portrayed, were quite 
 devoid of boldness of character, but they were such as 
 to impress me greatly. 
 
 And it may here be observed, that when exactly two 
 years after, by a singular coincidence, we again en- 
 tered the same port on returning from Vera Cruz, 
 having in the interval penetrated into every part of the 
 Union, and latterly gazed upon many a scene of tro- 
 pical and mountain magnificence in Mexico, I was 
 anew constrained to admit the propriety of the epithet 
 " beautifid," being attached to the Bay of New York. 
 That is its characteristic, whether the observer looks 
 down upon it from the elevated point I had chosen, or 
 from the neighbourhood of the city. And yet it is 
 difficult to define where the main charm lies. The 
 aspect of the latter is far from being picturesque on a 
 near approach. You see a long line of level wharves, 
 and slips crowded by endless tiers of shipping, and 
 tall brick warehouses peering over them ; a few 
 uninteresting church-steeples rearing themselves from 
 the central parts of the city, which rises so gradually 
 from the water's edge, that, at a distance, it seems to 
 be built on a dead flat. There is neither beauty nor 
 sublimity in such an object. Then the adjacent shores 
 of Long Island and New Jersey opposite, though well 
 w^ooded, are not particularly bold ; the small low 
 islands scattered over the nearer portions of the Bay, 
 are far from being either well clothed, or dignified by 
 handsome structures ; the swelling back of Staten 
 Island, is too distant to form a prominent object in the 
 landscape ; still, come from what quarter you may, 
 you are struck with the air of beauty. 
 
 Much is doubtless to be attributed to the extreme 
 mellowness and transparency of the atmosphere, which 
 gives colour to every object on land or water. In this, 
 the climate of New York is truly Italian. There is a 
 freshness in the verdure that covers the sloping and 
 gentle shores, a harmony in the outlines, — and above 
 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 NfiW YORK. 
 
 all, there is a life in the aquatic scenery^ which I never 
 witnessed elsewhere in an equal degree. An air of 
 gaiety and festal enjoyment, which contrasts singularly 
 with the unholiday appearance of men and things in 
 the interior of the country, reigns on the waters of the 
 bays and rivers, in the vicinity of the cities, lo a sur^ 
 prising degree. 
 
 At all times of the tide, at every hour of the day, 
 whatever may be the wind, the Bay and its outlets 
 appear alive with craft and shipping, from the dark 
 mass of the frigate, or line-of-battle ship, which often 
 lie moored abreast of the city, and the colossal steam- 
 boats hourly seen careering over its surface, to the 
 light skilfully-managed wherry of the Whitehaller. 
 
 But we will not for the present linger in New York,, 
 where I only passed a single week subsequent to 
 landing. This city, and its rivals on the waters of the 
 Atlantic, have been frequently described, and they may 
 therefore be passed over with few remarks. 
 
 The acquaintance which my comrade and myself 
 had begun with Mr. Irving at Havre, and cemented 
 on ship-board, was resumed ashore, and led to that 
 series of common projects and common wanderings, 
 which kept us bound together as a trio for the greater 
 part of the summer and autumn of this year. To him 
 all was new again, after seventeen years' absence from, 
 his native countrya 
 
 The month of June was employed in visiting Phila- 
 delphia, Baltimore, and Washington, previous to the 
 assumption of our more extended projects for the 
 summer. 
 
 The arrangements for public convenience in travel- 
 ling by steam-boat and rail-roadj along the whole line 
 of interior communication, from Rhode Island into the 
 very heart of Virginia, demand the admiration of every 
 stranger, and that of an Englishman more than any 
 other, he being of all travellers, the most impatient and 
 unable to endure the loss of precious time with equa- 
 nimity. Each of the cities named, though resembling 
 each other in many pointSj. has its own distinctiye 
 
NEW YORK. 
 
 31 
 
 iiiarks. New York is the most bustling ; Philadelphia 
 the most symmetrical ; Baltimore the most picturesque ; 
 and Washington the most bewildering^ 
 
 At New York you pass hours w ith delight under the 
 trees on that beautiful breezy promenade, which the 
 good taste of the citizens has preserved at the extreme 
 point of their island. You follow the example of more 
 illustrious travellers in doing justice to the ample tables 
 of your hotel or friendsj not forgetting to pass judgment 
 on rock fish, American oysters, and above all, on shad 
 fish, if in seasouo You enjoy many a stroll along the 
 gay and cheerful pavement of Broadway, the principal 
 street, running for miles through the heart of the ciiy^ 
 with its handsome edifices, shops, and public buildings. 
 You admire the commodious disposition of the interior 
 of family mansions, with their folding-doors, clean, 
 cool, indian-matted floors, and the groups of pretty 
 faces by which they are adorned. You marvel at the 
 incessant bustle and proofs of flourishing commerce 
 visible in all the narrower streets devoted to business, 
 diverging right and left toward the North and East 
 rivers ; and on the crowded slips and wharves. You 
 step into a steam-boat, and cross over to Brooklyn, or 
 to the Jersey shore, where you may immediately bury 
 yourself in the delicious walks of Hoboken, where 
 ihe squirrel climbs as free, and apparently as undis* 
 turbed among the grape-vines, as in the depths of the 
 forest. You glance up the Hudson, which laves the 
 grassy margin of the promenade, and see him walled 
 in by the perpendicular pallisadoes and green shores 
 of Manhattan Island, covered with sloops and steamers 
 — and own that in your brightest moment of fancy, 
 you never dreamed of the creation of an equally glo- 
 rious river, or a city whose position is more strongly 
 marked by all those characteristics which are desirable 
 in a great commercial emporium. Returning, you 
 iiear the cry of fire, and repair to the scene of disaster, 
 but go home disappointed, because you find that the 
 good people of New York never give a fire a fair 
 chance, but knock down the house to preserve it from 
 
32 
 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 the flames. You walk out on a Sunday evening, and 
 are fairly elbowed into the gutter by the broad- spread 
 bonnets and gigots de mouton of the sable beauties, 
 who, with their beaux, have then the possession of the 
 pavement. 
 
 At Philadelphia, the city of Brotherly Love," you 
 are struck with the regularity of the streets, — their 
 numberless handsome mansions, — the lavish use of 
 white and gray marble, — pleasant avenues and squares, 
 — noble public institutions, — markets, — the abundance 
 of water, — and the general attention to dress visible in 
 ♦ every one you meet. As in New York and Baltimore, 
 you are surprised with the great proportion of hand- 
 some female faces, and delicately moulded forms which 
 crowd the public walks and saloons, like so many 
 sweet fresh May flowers. You make the usual visits 
 right or left, dictated by taste or reverence ; including 
 the romantic scene at Fairmount, and the spot where 
 the celebrated treaty was concluded between Penn and 
 the Delawares; and you taste that hospitality and 
 frank unostentatious kindness which, with all their 
 faults, proved or imputed, the American ever ofiers to 
 a stranger who conducts himself courteously. 
 
 At Baltimore, the city of Monuments," snugly 
 sheltered within its deep bay, and rising from an oblong 
 basin of the Patapsco toward the amphitheatre of 
 wooded hills on the west, you marvel to hear how, 
 from a period of time within the memory of some yet 
 living, the small village of a dozen houses has sprung 
 up into a large capital, overspreading an extended area, 
 abounding with noble public and private edifices, and 
 possessing an increasing commerce with every port 
 under the sun. You admire the neat style of building, 
 — the bustle of the Bay, — the beauty of the shipping, 
 — and the lovely scenery in the environs. You wel- 
 come a southern climate in the perfume of many 
 odorous flowers, and, more than all, the delightful 
 society for which Maryland is pre-eminent — frank, 
 polished and unafiected. 
 
 At Washington, the city of magnificent distances," 
 
BALTIMORE. 
 
 with the haste and eagerness of a new comer you visit 
 the lions ascend to the capitol ;— criticize its archi- 
 tecture, whether properly authorized to do so or not, — 
 listen to the proceedings in either House for an hour 
 or two, — pay your respects to the President,^ — visit the 
 country-seat and grave of our great and good opponent 
 Washington. You plan, but do not execute, an excur- 
 sion to the Falls of the Potomac, — get more and more 
 bewildered with the study of the city, which seems to 
 have been contrived with an eye for the especial ad- 
 vantage of the hackney coachmen ;— get squeezed out 
 of all equanimity at a Presidential levee ; — retain your 
 appetite, but lose your pcitience at a scram.bling dinner 
 at Gadsby's Hotel,~and finally retrace your steps to 
 Baltimore as we did, with a resolution not to return to 
 Washington till there should be a less suffocating heat 
 in the places of public resort, less dust in Pennsylvania 
 avenue, more water in the Tiber, and more elbow-room 
 in the hotels. 
 
 I have, however, no hesitation in saying, that our 
 first impressions, of America, were everyway pleasings 
 both as to men and things. We saw the country and 
 the society under the best auspices ; and the season at 
 which we made our fi^rst journey, was also one which 
 naturally incited us to contented enjoyment. 
 
 In returning northward, we made a halt of a fort- 
 night in Baltimore and its neighbourhood. Many 
 of the country-seats which stud the environs upon 
 the upland slope, at various points and distances 
 from the city, are singularly well-situated and taste- 
 fully arranged ; and I look back with unalloyed 
 gratification to the hours spent among them, and 
 the hospitality there enjoyed. Rural fetes are ordi- 
 narily given in these villas at this beautiful season 
 of the year, when every tree and shrub appears in 
 its freshest green, and every natural object cites to 
 amusement and recreation. 
 
 The numberless white four-petalled flowers of 
 the dog-wood, which we had left, in the latitude 
 of New York, in full beauty, had, it is true, become 
 
34 
 
 BALTIMORE. 
 
 discoloured, and half hidden by the green foliage 
 which they precede; but the catalpa was in blossom 
 in the vicinity of the country-seats ; the shrubberies 
 were in their beauty, and on the margin of the forest, 
 which generally thickened to the back of these villas, 
 the evening air was perfumed with the rich odour of 
 the magnolia, whose snow-white blossom peeped out 
 from its covert of glossy leaves. A thousand beautiful 
 trees, either transported from their concealment in 
 the woods, or tastefully preserved for the purposes of 
 ornament, surrounded the lawns in front of the open 
 colonnade. 
 
 It was not till my return to Europe, in the height 
 of summer, after a very short passage, that I was 
 struck with the totally different character of the ver- 
 dure, both of the field and forest, on the two Con- 
 tinents. After the bright sward, and the varied sum- 
 mer foliage of the Western woods, with their great 
 ponderance of light greens, the English landscape 
 seemed to exhibit nothing but evergreens, such was 
 the depth of shade observable in the blue verdure 
 of the rounded and heavy masses of foliage, of our 
 ordinary forest trees, and on the dark and thick mea- 
 dow grass of our humid climate. 
 
 A few hours before sunset, the different visitors 
 generally assembled, by far the greater number con- 
 sisting of the young and unmarried of both sexes, 
 under the shade of the trees, tables were covered 
 with the delicacies of the season, — among which the 
 delicious fruit, from which these Strawberry Parties 
 took their name, was ordinarily seen in the greatest 
 profusion, with its appropriate concomitants of cream 
 and champagne. Many an enchanting spectacle of 
 natural beauty and human contentment and pleasure, 
 have I observed spread before me, while sitting in 
 the portico of one of these rural retreats, as the sun 
 sunk slowly to its setting. The view from many of 
 them commanded a wide prospect, to the south-east, 
 over the forests and fine undulating slopes of the coun- 
 try in the direction of the city, whose domes and 
 
BALTIMORE. 
 
 35 
 
 edifices peered over the woods, or were descried bor- 
 dering the irregular lake-like divisions of the river. 
 More remote, lay the wider bay of the Patapsco, glis- 
 tening with white sails, merging far in the distance 
 into the broad Chesapeake ; the long promontory of 
 North Point, with its light-houses glistening in the 
 sunshine ; and, beyond all, the hardly perceptible 
 thread of gold which marked the utmost limit of the 
 horizon, and the eastern shore of Maryland. 
 
 If to this noble view you add as a foreground, 
 the sweet intermingling forest, lawn, and shrubbery 
 in the immediate vicinity of the dwelling, with the 
 gay and graceful groups scattered over it ; you would 
 own with me, that you had rarely gazed upon scenes 
 so truly beautiful and guilelessly cheerful ; so ani- 
 mated, so full of innocent pleasure, and so devoid of 
 false glitter and glare, as those presented by the 
 Maryland Strawberry Parties. Later comes the brief 
 but beautiful twilight, with the wailing cry of the 
 whip-poor-will, the flight of the night-hawk, and 
 above all, myriads of fire-flies filling the air with 
 sparks, dancing in the deep shade, or streaming with 
 their intermittent and gentle light among the groups, 
 as they stroll in the open air, or sit in the porticoes. 
 
 The frank manners and uncontrolled intercourse 
 between the young people of both sexes, and the 
 confidence with which they are on all occasions left to ^ 
 their own discretion, form one remarkable feature in 
 American society, and one that must strike every 
 European. Unattended as this open confidence has 
 hitherto been, with perhaps the rarest exceptions, 
 by unpleasant results, it is a proof that thus far the 
 society of the New World has an advantage over 
 that of the Old, where circumstances throw such difii- 
 culties in the way of most early marriages ; where the 
 poison of libertinism is more generally difliised, and 
 where the whole structure of society warrants the most 
 jealous care in the parent, and the utmost caution and 
 reserve on the part of the daughter. 
 
 Though compared with future tours, a short excur- 
 
36 POINT OF ROCKS. 
 
 sion we made from Baltimore daring this interval, 
 may sink into insignificance ; yet as it was the first 
 which led us away to any distance from the coast, it 
 may not inaptly find a corner before I conclude my 
 third sheet to you. This was a visit to the Point of 
 Rocks on the Potomac, and the village of Harper's 
 Ferry, at the junction of that river with another off* 
 spring of the wooded Alleghany, the Shenandoah, 
 which, in the upper part of its course, waters the 
 lovely valley of Virginia. The celebrated rail-road, 
 planned with an object of forming a junction with the 
 waters of the Chesapeake and the Ohio, had then 
 already been carried as far as the Potomac, upward 
 of seventy miles from the city of Baltimore, and in the 
 first part of its course up the varied and beautiful glen 
 of the Patapsco, presents scenes of great and peculiar 
 beauty. 
 
 The spirit with which such gigantic undertakings 
 are conceived, the millions furnished for their pro- 
 secution, and the immense works which they render 
 necessary, carried forward by private companies, often 
 without even the assistance of a loan from the State 
 Governments, are worthy of great admiration. None 
 is more so than that displayed in the prosecution of the 
 rail-road in question, which is conducted by bridges, 
 viaducts of massive granite, deep excavations, em« 
 bankments of great extent and height, for seven miles 
 to the entrance of the more confined valley of the 
 Patapsco, through which it subsequently winds, fol^ 
 lowing the curvature of the precipitous and rocky hills 
 on both sides for many miles, till it reaches the divid- 
 ing-ridge between the waters of that river, and the 
 tributaries of the Potomac. Here, forty miles from 
 the city, you ascend the first inclined plane, of which 
 there are two on each side, and over which you are 
 conducted by a stationary engine. Fourteen miles 
 from the western slope of the planes, the rail-road 
 traverses the Monocacy valley, and a few miles farther 
 you see the forested ridges of the Catoctin mountains, 
 and the broad stream of the Potomac opening before 
 you. 
 
HARPER'S FERRY. 
 
 37 
 
 At the time when we made this excursion, the traffic 
 and the arrangements on this newly-constructed work 
 were in their infancy, and a few rude barracks put up 
 here and there in close proximity to the forest, were 
 but slender indications of the changes about to be ef- 
 fected along its line ; but long before we quitted the 
 country, a large village with hotels and w^arehouses had 
 sprung up at the Point of Rocks ; the traffic upon the 
 rail-road was incessant ; locomotive engines took the 
 place of horse-power ; and hamlets sprung up along its 
 line. The natural resources of the country began to 
 be available; the inexhaustible stores of the finest 
 granite, iron-ore, and breccia, which lay on its very 
 path were conveyed to the city ; roads sprung up to 
 communicate with it, and it was gradually advancing 
 into the recesses of the Alleghany, side by side with a 
 canal commenced at the city of Washington, with the 
 same ulterior object. 
 
 At Harper's Ferry, where the two combined streams 
 before mentioned, have apparently burst their way 
 through the Blue Ridge, as the advanced chain of the 
 many parallel and continuous ridges of the Apalla- 
 chian series is called, the scenery is deservedly 
 termed romantic. The precipitous and wooded accli- 
 vities of the mountains overhang the wide beds of 
 two noble streams, both interrupted by a long chain 
 of rapids. The picturesque village is situated at the | 
 point of junction at the foot of a steep acclivity. A 
 long wooden bridge, resting on stone piers, traverses 
 the united volume of water immediately below, and a 
 mile lower down, the whole, roaring over the Bull's 
 Ring rapid, rushes impetuously through the Gap. The 
 scene presented from the crest of the mountain above 
 the village, of the course of the rivers both before 
 and after their junction, is one of the most striking 
 in the United States. The channel of the Shenandoah 
 to the right, appears obstructed by low reefs of slate 
 rock, as far as it is visible, and that of the Potomac to 
 the left, furrowed by rapids and broken by wooded 
 islands. The mountains overhanging both vallies, 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
38 POTOMAC. 
 
 are rocky and well wooded, and present fine pic* 
 turesque scenery along the course of the two canals, 
 which have been constructed for the distance of a 
 mile up each for the convenience of the manufactories 
 of carbines and muskets, established here by the Ge- 
 neral Government, allured by the defensible character 
 of the position, the vicinity of coal, and great ' water- 
 power.' The arms furnished by this manufactory, and 
 another in Massachusetts, supply the whole Union- 
 Neatness and economy seem to characterize every de-- 
 jDartment. 
 
 Our return to the Point of Rocks on the Potomac^ 
 gave us a first introduction to American river-scenery. 
 The mode of conveyance was a boat, about seventy 
 feet in length, manned by a mulatto captain, and six or 
 seven coloured men. Its movements were directed by 
 a large oar at either end. These dusky fellows are 
 bred to their business, and under their guidance the 
 unwieldy machine shot like lightning through the 
 passes of the BuH's Ring rapid^ and among the many 
 islands which deck the surface of this River of the 
 w^oods," a name which it w^ell deserves. Once at the 
 Point of Rocks, the rail-road carriages conveyed us on 
 our return to the city. 
 
 Various shorter excursions and visits occupied the 
 remainder of the month — none more interesting and 
 delightful than that of a few days to the Manor, the 
 seat of Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, the only survi- 
 ving subscriber of the Declaration of Independence ^ 
 — a venerable and polished gentleman of the old 
 school, drawing toward the close of a long and active 
 life, and an object of the respect and love of the whole 
 country. We often recalled the events of this visits 
 with interest, as, before our return from our long ex- 
 cursion westward, he too had passed away from among 
 the living. The simple fact of such individuals as 
 himself, Washington, Hamilton, and others, of their 
 known character and excellence in private life, having 
 eventually taken a share in eflecting the separation of 
 the colonies from the mother country, was sufiicient tOs 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF SCENERY. 39 
 
 make me feel desirous to look into the causes. There 
 were faults on both sides, doubtless ; but of one thing 
 I have become convinced, that the convulsion which 
 separated us, was quite as painful to the one as to the 
 other, and little desired or anticipated by thousands in 
 America, till necessity and the course of events left no 
 other choice. 
 
 Immediately upon my return, and that of my two 
 companions, from our trip southward at the close of 
 June, we made conjointly, an excursion up the Hudson 
 river, and to the Kaatskill mountains, lingering for a 
 few days by the way, in a delightful retreat, in the 
 bosom of the Highlands. 
 
 If, after having, with one exception, visited every 
 State and Territory in the Union, I might feel myself 
 authorized to form a judgment, I should venture the 
 opinion, that the United States, taken as a whole, are 
 far from possessing a fair proportion of what we should 
 term picturesque scenery. Italy, Switzerland, Spain, 
 our own group of Islands, and Germany, have, in their 
 character and accessories, those details which render 
 them essentially picturesque; not only because the 
 works of man, by which they are thickly diversified, 
 have made them so, but because the natural disposition 
 of the surface — broken ground, bare rock, wood, 
 water, verdure, mountains and vallies, alternating in 
 quick succession — has stamped that peculiar character 
 upon them. But the abrupt outlines of surface, so 
 usual in the Old World, and the interminable inter- 
 change of the various elements of the picturesqiie, are 
 of much rarer occurrence in the New. I use the epi- 
 thet in its proper sense. It is in vain to look for its 
 common occurrence in the vast alluvial tracts of forest 
 and prairie in the immense valley of the Mississippi, or 
 in the regions of the same geological formation extend- 
 ing from New Jersey, between the Alleghany and the 
 Atlantic, to the Cape of Florida. You would not ex- 
 pect to find it as an ordinary character of the long 
 parallel, rarely broken, and forested ridges, and the 
 intervening vallies, which, under a variety of names, 
 
40 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF SCENERY. 
 
 divide the waters of the East from those of the West. 
 It is hardly to be met with in the undulating, richly 
 cultivated central districts of Pennsylvania, New York, 
 or Maryland. Even in the New England States, 
 though more rocky, and broken, more cut up by inter- 
 nal lakes, and under longer cultivation than the 
 Southern and Western, 1 should be sorry to under- 
 take a solitary pedestrian journey, trusting to the 
 charms and variety of the scenery to while away fatigue 
 or ennui. In a continent where the forest still covers 
 so large a portion of both mountain and plain, where 
 the undisturbed ribs of rock are hidden within the 
 mountain sides by the swelling and even outlines of the 
 mould, protected and increased by the forests of ages, 
 there must be monotony. 
 
 Again, what nature has to a certain degree denied, 
 man has hitherto done but little to remedy. As to 
 ancient architecture, it is not necessary to remind you 
 that there is none ; the styles of building usually 
 adopted in the United States, however commodious 
 and pretty, or adapted to the different climates, have 
 rarely any thing picturesque about them. The first 
 operations of the settler in the primeval forest are pro- 
 ductive of a deformity which years can scarcely 
 remove. 
 
 Still you must not misunderstand me. Though you 
 cannot, in speaking of these vast regions, say that the 
 general character of their scenery is picturesque, — yet 
 go more into detail, and you will find, though they 
 may be far apart, scenes of the most exquisite natural 
 beauty, fully justifying the application of that epithet. 
 The course of the Hudson abounds with them from its 
 source till it meets the ocean. Range all the world 
 over and you will never see a more lovely valley than 
 that of the Mohawk throughout its whole extent ; or 
 sweeter scenes than those reflected in the bright waters 
 of Lake George and its neighbours. Such are many 
 of the slopes and vales in the broken country on both 
 sides of the Alleghany ; — the frequent Gaps burst 
 through the several chains, through which the redun- 
 
CHAllACTEillSTlCS OF SCENERY. 41 
 
 daiit streams roll down over the rapids toward the 
 lower country many of the scenes on the upper 
 coasts of New England, and none more so than the 
 rarely visited and rarely-mentioned Portland. The 
 upper Mississippi, from the falls of St. Anthony, where 
 the mighty river pours down from an elevated region 
 of marsh and lakes, to its junction with the Missouri, 
 abounds in picturesque scenery. Many parts of Michi- 
 gan lay a claim to be included, and other isolated 
 instances might be cited as my memory retraces the 
 steps of the last two or three years. 
 
 But do not suppose that for the rest there is no 
 charm ; — that there is nothing in the Western world to 
 make up for the deficiency of this pleasing attribute. 
 There is a character to which it may proudly lay claim 
 in the face of the East, and that is, sublimity. I know 
 what you would say — I never forget the Alps and their 
 majesty, but they stand almost alone. 
 
 Get to the summit of the Alleghany, and look out 
 upon the dark mantle of primeval forest clothing the 
 swelling ridges which roll toward the deep blue hori- 
 zon, rising and falling like the tempest-stirred ocean ; 
 — bury yourself in their recesses among the giant 
 trees; — look forth on her vast estuaries, her ocean- 
 lakes, and bays indenting the shores for hundreds 
 of miles, sparkling in the sunbeams, or reflecting the 
 deep blue of heaven through her own transparent 
 atmosphere ; — stand upon her boundless prairies 
 stretching to the westward, a thousand miles of un- 
 broken grassy meadow, bespangled with flowers of 
 every hue, where no hand ever reaps, no finger ever 
 €ulls, and but few feet ever tread ;— sail over her inland 
 seas in calm or storm, and know^ yourself, though sur- 
 rounded by the watery horizon for hours, in the centre 
 of a continent! Then mark her numberless rivers, 
 whether thousands of miles from their bourne in the 
 Ocean, spreading under your eye a broad moving 
 mirror of shining water in the vast solitude of the 
 silent forests ; boiling down a rapid for miles as white 
 
 as snow ; contracted among their poplar islands to a 
 
 4# 
 
42 CHARACTERISTICS OF SCENERY. 
 
 torrent — or yet nearer their estuary, amidst the culti- 
 vated fields of the lower and more thickly inhabited 
 lands, when the accumulated waters of a thousand 
 streams press on in one wide reach after the other, and 
 expand into broad tide-stirred bays ere they finally 
 merge in the great deep. 
 
 Well may America be proud of such scenes. All 
 bear the impress of sublimity. The feelings which 
 they convey to the human mind may be less pleasing 
 and less definite, but they are more durable. 
 
 One scene yet remains, which, though you have 
 gazed upon the Alps in all their splendid alternations 
 of high sublimity, and acknowledged the presence of 
 the same feeling while floating on the bosom of the 
 Ocean in calm or tempest, — still stands forward among 
 these, the world's wonders, and vies with them, in 
 claiming its degree of this attribute, — and that is 
 Niagara; the huge step between the waters of an upper 
 and a lower w^orld, whence the' thunder of water has 
 echoed through the forests, and the vapour of the great 
 cataract has ascended for ages, like smoke from an 
 altar to the great Creator of All. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 About the second week in July, after being wit- 
 nesses of the panic caused in New- York by the out- 
 break of the cholera, we prepared to follow Mr. Irving 
 to Boston, where he purposed to give us rendezvous 
 previous to our visit to the White Mountains, the 
 [lightest group in the Union. Accordingly, one rainy 
 morning we put ourselves on board a noble steam-boat, 
 and proceeding through the East River, we glided 
 past the redoubted Hell-Gate, Pot, Frying-Pan, Hog's 
 Back, Hen and Chickens, and other dangers of olden 
 
THE VALE OF CONNECTICUT. 
 
 43 
 
 times, and entered upon the broad surface of Long 
 Island Sound, 
 
 Instead, however, of pursuing the ordinary course to 
 Newport and Providence, we were set ashore at the 
 little port of Newhaven in Connecticut, and subse- 
 quently pursued our journey through the centre of that 
 State to Hartford and Northampton. In landing 
 among these, the early settlements of the New World, 
 after glancing at the States more to the southward, you 
 are struck with the air of comparative antiquity in 
 many objects. The houses, the enclosures, and the 
 trees planted among them, have a much more English 
 appearance. The towns and villages are more thickly 
 strewed over the face of the country, and their outskirts 
 much less ragged and less incumbered with rubbish and 
 building materials. The population seems to be at 
 home on the soil, and children to have succeeded to the 
 inheritance of their fathers for many generations, old 
 houses of imported brick, aged Lombardy poplars, 
 grass-grown and discoloured pavements and thresholds, 
 and orchards full of gray distorted apple-trees, mark 
 the vicinity of many of the earliest settlements. Here 
 or there stands an ancient tree — the sole survivor of 
 the original forest, and a boundary-mark of the first 
 colonists. The cemeteries are more spacious and more 
 decently maintained than you will observe elsewhere, 
 and within their precincts you see many a time-stained 
 tombstone, of the exact pattern and fashion in ornament 
 and inscription, of those picturesque memorials of the 
 dead which crowd the hallowed church-yards of the 
 mother-countr}^ The signs of long and steady culti- 
 vation may be remarked on the face of the landscape, 
 and all these things combined, throw a degree of in- 
 terest over the country apart from the charms of natural 
 scenery, which contrasts agreeably with that air of 
 rawness and newness which is imprinted upon the works 
 of man in other portions of the continent, and which is 
 so opposed to anything like poetry and sentiment. 
 
 The valley of the Connecticut river struck us as one 
 of the most lovely we had ever beheld. Many are the 
 beauties with which nature has decked the verdant, 
 
44 
 
 THE VALE OF CONNECTICUT. 
 
 fertile, and park-like shores of that pastoral stream in 
 its lower course, as it winds among flourishing towns, 
 and bears upon its broad bosom the fruits of the indus- 
 try and commercial activity of a busy population. The 
 numerous villages have a delightful appearance in the 
 distance with their clean-built, white houses ; their gar- 
 dens, and broad streets. The weeping elm is the glory 
 of New England, and trees of great beauty and size 
 not unfrequently line both sides of the streets, and 
 cluster about the older mansions. 
 
 Above Hartford the banks of the river rise to a 
 greater elevation, and the whole style of scenery about 
 Springfield and Northampton is lovely in the extreme. 
 Indeed this river is said to abound in romantic views 
 throughout its long and varied course. In the course 
 of our tour, we again came upon its banks, at the little 
 town of Lancaster in New Hampshire, two hundred 
 miles above Northampton, and still found it a broad 
 deep stream flowing in an exquisite vale, in a country 
 where cultivation was gradually wresting the soil from 
 the dark primeval forests, and surrounded by nearer or 
 distant chains of mountains. 
 
 From Northampton we crossed the state by the 
 direct road to Boston. Stage-coachmen are here, as 
 elsewhere, a peculiar race ; they drive well and fear- 
 lessly, but not in jockey style, and in a manner quite 
 devoid of grace. They display no coquetry in dress, 
 and are evidently fatahsts, taking always the chances 
 of an overturn against the chances of escape. You 
 see them dash over a steep hill in rapid career, some- 
 times driving six in hand, and hardly holding in the 
 horses during the descent, seemingly trusting to their 
 stars, the beds of rough stone, deep sand, or the fre- 
 quent gutters constructed across the roads in the hilly 
 districts to prevent their being washed away, to bring 
 them gradually and safely to the bottom. 
 
 While travelling commodiously to and fro in the 
 New England states, the mind is frequently inclined to 
 occupy itself with the singular and striking circum- 
 stances of its first settlement. Two centuries and a 
 
SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 45 
 
 half have rolled by since the May-Flower and her 
 burden of pilgrims approached the shores of this part 
 of America, then totally unknown and unexplored : 
 and no country on earth can boast a more remarkable 
 and a more chequered history since that period. 
 Whatever may be your modification of religious 
 opinion, you cannot but admire the strength of mind, 
 simplicity of faith and purpose, and almost super- 
 human perseverance and hardihood of character of the 
 early colonists. They were placed truly in fearful 
 circumstances, and it is both instructive and consoling 
 to see how the back became suited to the burden. 
 However rudely transplanted from the bosom of civil- 
 ized society, they ' steeled their souls,' and were gifted 
 with a power of endurance which might be deemed 
 beyond nature by those who have not seen how 
 much strength both of mind and body, man has been 
 endowed with, and is capable of exerting under the 
 excitement of peculiar circumstances, beyond that 
 modicum of either, which he may be called to exert in • 
 the common walks of life. 
 
 Their minds were not only unappalled by the ex- 
 change they had made, between ' a paradise of plea- 
 sure and plenty, and a wilderness of wants,' — the 
 change of clime and scene, unheard-of hardships and 
 privations, cold, hunger, and disease ; — but evidently 
 gaining strength from the very destitution of their 
 position, their being beyond all certain human aid 
 and help — in the fervour of religious dependence on 
 God they struggled on under all these accumulated 
 causes of trial, and those of a yet more fearful char- 
 acter which awaited them in the roused and impla- 
 cable hostility of the tribes whom they supplanted 
 from without, or the fire of fanaticism and schism 
 within their settlements, and finally triumphed. 
 
 You inquire into the origin of most of the pleasant 
 towns and villages of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and 
 Rhode Island, and find few whose early foundations 
 were not laid upon ground bedewed by the sweat and 
 blood of the little band of brothers, which first raised 
 
46 
 
 SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 the axe in that part of the forest. The majority of 
 the settlements had their commencement in a few 
 individuals either taking possession of a tract of land 
 ceded to them by the Indian sachems, or purchasing 
 the same of the companies holding a large district 
 tinder the royal grants and charters. They formed 
 themselves into communities, having their own civil 
 and religious laws and their municipal regulations, 
 and in general submitted to such an unusual scru- 
 tiny into individual conduct and private life, as to 
 be a marvel in the present time. They bound them- 
 selves soberly together into a body politic, the separate 
 settlements by degrees united, and submitted to a 
 commota government. The watchfulness of their 
 magistrates over the public morals was pushed to a 
 most ridiculous extent. But you have only to peruse 
 any of their codes, the Blue Laws of Connecticut 
 for instance, or read any of the chronicles of the time, 
 to satisfy yourself as to that. 
 
 • In those early times, and under those peculiar cir- 
 cumstances, all men expressed themselves with ve- 
 hemence and acted with violence. Scarcely had the 
 first colonists landed, before religious feuds broke out 
 and farther separations occurred. Men who had 
 quitted their native country, hand in hand, for the 
 same holy cause, found in the solitude of their new 
 position fresh subjects of difference, which admitted 
 
 ' of no adjustment and no mutual forbearance and 
 forgiveness ; but proudly drew away from each other 
 deeper into the woods, unappalled by danger and utter 
 loneliness^ The severity of manners and morals prac- 
 tised among them was accompanied by distrust, intrac- 
 tability, and rancour. The emigration of the Quakers 
 and Baptists, lent fuel to the flame, and persecution 
 was added to other troubles. From being the oppres- 
 sed, they became the oppressors. 
 
 Fanaticism brought in the end its own punishment, 
 and a terrible one it was. The belief in witchcraft 
 arose and spread like a contagion in some of the 
 settlements, and it was not till after a number of lives 
 
SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND, 47 
 
 had been sacrificed to it, that the inhabitants awoke as 
 from a dream, and lamented their falling off from rea- 
 son and true Christianity. 
 
 If the history of this people in their relation to one 
 another is worthy of study and full of interest, that 
 of their struggles with the Indian inhabitants of the 
 forest, is not the less so. It is to be lamented that 
 here, as every where else, the superior power and 
 intelligence of the whites only led to the speedier and 
 more certain destruction of the latter ; and much of the 
 misery on both sides is to be traced in its first source 
 to the conduct of the former. It is humiliating to mark 
 how extremes meet, and how the fate of the Indian, 
 under the lash of the unsparing zeal and cupidity of 
 the most bigotted Roman Catholic in the central divi- 
 sions of this Continent, where tens of thousands were 
 sacrificed under the plea of doing God service, was 
 that also the Northern Indian, under the relentless 
 barbarity of the most fanatical among Protestants, who, 
 deeming themselves a peculiar people, turned a war of 
 defence, to which their conduct had mainly given rise, 
 into a war of extermination, and believed they were 
 thus fulfilling the will of God. 
 
 However stern the necessity appeared to be, which 
 bade the Puritans seek elsewhere for a land where they 
 might worship God without molestation, according to 
 their own consciences, abundant testimonials are extant 
 of the ardent love and affection with which these early 
 emigrants looked back to the land of their fathers. 
 'We in this country,' says one of them,^ ' have left 
 our near relations, brothers, sisters, fathers' houses, 
 nearest and dearest friends ; but if we can get nearer 
 to God here, — He will be instead of all, more than 
 all to us. We may take that out of God that we 
 forsook in father, mother, brother and sister, and 
 friend, that hath been near and dear to us as our own 
 soul. Even among the most wicked sinners there may 
 
 * Mr. Whitney, a pastor of Lynn, Massachusetts, from 1636 to 
 1690. 
 
48 SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 be found some righteous, — some corn among the chaff, 
 —some jewels among the sand, — some pearls among a 
 multiiude of shells. Who hath made England to differ 
 from other nations, that more jewels are to be found 
 there than elsewhere ? or, what hath that island that it 
 hath not received ? * The East and the West Indies 
 yield their gold, and pearl, and sweet spices — but I 
 know where the spicy Christians be. England hath 
 ^ yielded these, yet not England, but the grace of God 
 that hath ever been with ihem. We see what hope 
 we may have concerning iVi^i^ England, though we do 
 not deserve to be named the same day with our dear 
 mother.' 
 
 And that this love was real and unfeigned, was 
 proved for years, by their cherished relations with 
 home, as they taught their children to call their mother- 
 country; — by their willingness of dependence; — their 
 very prejudices ; — the blood which they freely shed in 
 the quarrels of their king, and by a multiiude of 
 other testimonials now throw^n aside and forgotten. For 
 a while this affection grew with their growth, and in- 
 creased with their strength. It need not have been 
 estranged, and perhaps never would have been, had 
 England understood her true interests, and always 
 acted with justice. But she was only a stepmother 
 at best. Perhaps temporary oppression from the 
 measures of government on one hand, and a sense of 
 growing strength and importance on the other, would 
 hardly have effected it, despite the democratic feeling 
 which existed in the country from its earliest settle- 
 ments. There are other things which are even more 
 potent than oppression in producing the separation of 
 colonies from the parent states : — offended pride : 
 pique ; the soreness produced by unmerited ridicule ; 
 the disgust consequent upon being undervalued — and 
 other passions of that class whose workings are more 
 hidden, but infinitely more sure and certain in their 
 effects. 
 
 In referring to the early history of this country and 
 the circumstances of its colonization, there is one 
 
SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 49 
 
 fact which it is perhaps well to bear in mind, at a 
 time when the spirit of change seems to pervade the 
 very air we breathe ; and the example of America 
 is frequently quoted, to prove that the advocates for 
 the overthrow of our Constitution, and covertly of our 
 monarchical form of government, are not the rogues 
 or dupes which most honest men would suppose. We 
 are told to look to her, to see how a country may 
 throw aside monarchy, become a democratic republic, 
 — flourish and increase, and give abundant promise of 
 future greatness and power. This is true, the United 
 States do flourish, and they do increase, and they pro- 
 mise great things, — may they fulfil them ! But this 
 is to be gathered from their history, that when the 
 American colonies threw ofi" their allegiance to the 
 monarch of Great Britain and his government, they 
 never threw aside the British constitution, which did 
 not intimately concern them. 
 
 Many suppose that it was not till the Revolution 
 that the Americans began to govern themselves, 
 when, in fact, they had all along been brought up to 
 self-government. The constitution generally agreed to 
 by the diflferent bands of colonists was a pure de- 
 mocracy ; many of them, even down to the time of the 
 Revolution, possessed and exhibited all the essential 
 attributes of free states. The puritans were especially 
 republicans in creed and discipline; and in all their 
 arrangements this principle was predominant. And 
 this the Government at home knew and acknowledged 
 for many years, and had it been always remembered, 
 the bond between us might long before this have 
 changed its character, but it never would have been 
 rudely broken. The royal prerogative of control was 
 wisely and sparingly exercised in the internal affairs of 
 the colonies, even in their earliest and feeblest state ; 
 and it was not till it began to be inauspiciously and 
 oppressively put forward, that there was any avowed 
 disposition on their part to resist. 
 
 If by these disjointed and hasty remarks, I shall suc- 
 
 VOL. I. 5 
 
50 
 
 NEW HAMPSHIRE. 
 
 ceed in directing your attention to an interesting sub- 
 ject, I shall gain my end. 
 
 At Boston, we found our companion awaiting our 
 arrival at the Tremont Hotel, and on chatting over our 
 projects, we resolved to proceed without delay on our 
 tour to the northward, the rather, as all minds were 
 more or less unhinged by the absorbing subject of con- 
 versation and dread, the cholera. We had therefore 
 only time to glance at the Lions. It is a subject of 
 regret, that neither on the present nor a subsequent 
 visit, had we a fitting opportunity of becoming more 
 intimately acquainted w^ith the details and the society 
 of this large axd handsome capital. It is by far the 
 most English looking city of the Union, and has a 
 chara ter for possessing much good, well-educated and 
 acrom lished society, um\e and female. IVly great 
 quarrel (for one may contrive to pick a quarrel every 
 where) is that the good Bostoiiians pertinaciously per- 
 sist in crowing over the battle of Bunker's Hill, as 
 though they had gained anj^ thing on that occasion 
 worth being thankful for. You recollect, doubtless, 
 that we were taught to crow over it also as school-boys, 
 as a victory of King George's. But many of the old, 
 and apparently settled layers of the brain get strangely 
 turned upside down by travelling. 
 
 Much of the country to the north of Boston, with 
 the exception of the fertile lands in immediate con- 
 tiguity to the rivers, might be described in few words, 
 as a labyrinth of forests, lakes, granite rocks, and 
 boulder-stones, dispersed over an undulating surface; 
 with cultivated tracts and flourishing villages and 
 towns, wherever the courses of the clear streams are in- 
 terrupted by rocks, and thus rendered serviceable for 
 the purposes of manufacture, or where the soil is par- 
 ticuliirly rich. Tlie first day^s journey northward 
 brought us over the Merrimac, to the town of Concord, 
 in New Hampshire. The beauty of the ponds or lakes, 
 with which the country is frequently broken, lying 
 deeply sunk in the forests, diversified by islands and 
 promontories, and frequently extending twelve or fifteen 
 
NEW HAMPSHIRE. 
 
 51 
 
 miles in length, was the principal feature which caught 
 our attention. 
 
 The second day we reached the shores of Winnipis- 
 siogee Lake, the largest in New Hampshire, and 
 between twenty and thirty miles long. On our route 
 we visited a Shaker settlement ; clean, orderly and odd, 
 but otherwise in no way distinguished from others of 
 their community dispersed over the Union, and fre- 
 quently described. To what singular and childish 
 vagaries will men resort, when through perverse pride 
 they sacrifice their simple belief in revelation at the 
 shrine of human reason ! How many in our day are 
 content to grope along by the light of their own sorry 
 taper, rather than walk in the glorious light which 
 God has freely offered us ! 
 
 The lake with the long name, as written above, we 
 found less beautiful than many of its inferiors in ex- 
 tent ; but the scenery from thence to the base of the 
 White Mountains at Conway, and still farther in their 
 recesses toward the Notch, is tridy romantic. This 
 detached group occupies the centre of the State of 
 New Hampshire. The country at the base is, for the 
 fnost part, covered with endless pine forests, full of 
 ponds and tangled streams, through which the smaller 
 rivers, proceeding from the slopes, filter slowly toward 
 the more open country. There seems to be going for- 
 ward, in many parts of these uncultivated districts, a 
 continual struggle between the two great elements, 
 earth and water. L^rge tracts are overflowed at one 
 season, and the land and its produce drowned beneath 
 the dark lake ; while on the bosom of many of the lat- 
 ter, banks of sand are gradually thrown up by the 
 action of the waves ; shallows are formed, which teem 
 with aquatic plants, water-snakes, terrapins, and bull- 
 frogs ; piles of floating and rotting timber are stranded 
 upon them; a vegetable mould is formed, and in the 
 course of years an island rises, covered with the ordi- 
 nary forest trees of the climate. The latter, from the 
 predominance of the fir tr ibe among them, are of a much 
 gloomier character than those farther to the south ; 
 
52 
 
 SPONTANEOUS VEGETATION. 
 
 but they abound with many shapely and beautiful trees, 
 none more so than the tall sugar-maple; and many 
 sweet flowers peep out from the marshes, or from the 
 thickets of fern and dwarf oak. How wonderful and 
 how imperfectly understood are many of the ordinary 
 operations of nature ! No sooner does the axe of the 
 woodman, or the accidental burning of the forests, de- 
 stroy one class of trees and brushwood^ — a class that 
 may have apparently covered the soil for centuries — 
 than another race perfectly distinct, rises, as though by 
 magic, from the disturbed and discoloured soil, and 
 covers it with beauty. The proofs of the almost uni- 
 versal principle of spontaneous vegetation throughout 
 both the forest and prairie lands of the New Continent, 
 are so well known and acknowledged, as to need no 
 additional confirmation at the present day. We have 
 met with continual evidences of its truth in every part 
 of the east and west. It would seem that the seeds of 
 one class of plants and forest trees must be deposited 
 by some catastrophe beyond the action of light, heat 
 and atmospheric air ; where they lie, supplanted by 
 another growth, and are forgotten, preserving, how- 
 ever, the vital principle for centuries in a dormant or 
 torpid state, till accident or tillage brings them to a 
 position favourable to their reproduction to light and 
 life. 
 
 One of the most remarkable instances of this extra- 
 ordinary phenomenon, of frequent but well attested 
 occurrence, is that the marl dug from pits thirty feet 
 deep in some parts of the Union, on being spread 
 over the soil, becomes instantly covered with white 
 clover ; and in New Jersey, this is the case with the 
 mud dragged up from the bottom of the Delaware, 
 and used for the purposes of manure. 
 
 From Conway, we followed the valley of the river 
 Saco, as I have already implied, to the Notch or gap 
 in the mountains near which it rises ; a remarkable and 
 romantic pass, frequented in summer by numbers of 
 tourists like ourselves ; and in the winter, when all the 
 mountains and the countries at their base are often 
 
THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 63 
 
 covered for weeks with deep snow, by innumerable 
 sledges laden with cheese and corn, transported 
 through this pass from tlie fertile vallies of Vermont 
 and the upper country, to the coast. 
 
 The ascent of the highest summit of the cluster- 
 Mount Washington, (6234 feet) was attempted by our 
 party, under disadvantageous circumstances: upon 
 gaining the summit, after some hour's toil and much 
 expectation, we were enveloped in heavy mist, which 
 set our patienc e at defiance, and sent us cold and wet 
 on our downward route, A solitary scramble to the 
 summit of the third in rank, situated in the same chain, 
 which I had contrived to accomplish the preceding day, 
 under better auspices, allows me to give you some 
 faint picture of the scenerj^ of the White Hills. 
 
 As a mountain view, it was truly magnificent, 
 though by far the most gloomy I had ever beheld. 
 The entire group, save five or six of the most elevated 
 mountains, which rear their scalps of micacious rock 
 over a belt of dwarf fir, appears invariably clothed to 
 the very summits with the dense northern forest, and 
 excepting here and there in the deepest vallies, or at 
 such a distance that the gazer could but just detect the 
 difference amidst the blue tints of the horizon, where 
 the swelling surface sank imperceptibly down toward 
 the lower country, the eye was scarcel}^ relieved by the 
 sight of cultivation. No rock could be descried ex- 
 cept that which heaped up the highest summits; no 
 bright green pastures were seen on the steep slopes ; 
 130 white cottages shone like stars from afar; but 
 here and there the precipitous declivities were deeply 
 seamed by tremendous earth-slides, appearing like 
 gashes in the dark face of the mountains. A number 
 of misty lakes gleamed in the distance to the south- 
 ward, and occasionally you saw the white smoke rising 
 from some upland valley where a hardy son of the soil 
 had pitched his habitation, and begun his struggle 
 w\ih the wilderness and its iii habitants. 
 
 From my description you will gather that the upper 
 districts of ihi^ mpuntain region are still in the state of 
 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 ROYALTON. 
 
 nature, as wild as when the red warriors, two centuries 
 ago, gathered themselves together in their recesses and 
 leagued for the destruction of the intruders on their 
 coasts ; and, with the exception of the Indian tribes, 
 the district is still tenanted by almost the same inhabi- 
 tants. Here the bear, the catamount, the Siberian 
 ]ynxy the wolf, and the lordly stag, still find harbour. 
 
 By ascending the valley of the Saco, and descend- 
 ing that of the Ammonoosuc,, we cut completely across 
 the chain. Pourtales and myself continued our route 
 as far north as Lancaster ; and then having parted for 
 awhile from our companion, who was obliged to return 
 for a few days to New York, with an intention of join- 
 ing company again in ten days' time at Saratoga 
 Springs, we bent our steps to Montpelier, in Vermont, 
 and took our course southward through the whole 
 range of the Green Hills, the back-bone of that State, 
 to Bennington. 
 
 The interval spent in thus rambling through the 
 fertile valleys of that chain of beautifully wooded hills^ 
 has left a very pleasant class of recollections, but in 
 general of so uniform and ordinary a character, that I 
 do not think you would, thank me for delaying my 
 narrative here. 
 
 We ascended Killington Peak, a prominent summit 
 of the chain, rising four thousand feet above Lake 
 Champlain, which we descried glistening like a sheet 
 of silver in the distant horizon ; and we remained one 
 day in the village of Royalton, upon which I will ven- 
 ture a few remarks ; partly because we were stationary 
 and more at liberty to look at the scene around us, 
 and partly because of all the pretty New England vil- 
 lages, and there are thousands, there is none more 
 lovely than that just named, on the banks of White 
 River. 
 
 Too frequently you have to remark, in travelling in 
 the United States, how utterly, prosaic all the works of 
 man appear ; and it is well if there are exceptions now 
 and then, and if you meet with secluded spots where the 
 
ROYALTON. 
 
 55 
 
 charms of nature are not blurred by the inharmonious 
 works of human design. 
 
 The village in question lay niched in the very heart 
 of the wooded hills on the banks of a crystal stream, 
 flowing over a white pebbly bed, with an occasional 
 mass of slate rock peering above the surface. The hills 
 of medium height, rose steeply on either hand, dis- 
 playing forested summits and sloping green sides 
 denuded of timber, except occasional groups or single 
 trees, and heie and there broken by an isolated mass 
 of rock. ..A conical hill with a solitary tree on its sum- 
 rait overtopped the lower end of the village. The latter 
 was composed, as usual, principally of one street, with 
 houses irregularly posted, and trees and gardens be- 
 tween. A few of the modern houses had a degree of 
 taste to recommend them, and an old fashioned cluster 
 of low cottages.with open galleries toward the street, 
 and steps down to t fie level of the road, directly fronted 
 the inn. 
 
 The church, barn-like, as usual, and built with a 
 scantiness of roof which added to its deformity, stood 
 on the verge of a kind of green, not far from the inn, 
 which was one of the best and most prominent edifices 
 of the place.- It had the ordinary appendage of a huge 
 staring sign, and lofty sign-post in the middle of the 
 street. The unoccupied spaces and corners in the 
 immediate vicinity of ihe houses, which at an earlier 
 day, had doubtk\ss been heaped with rubbish, now 
 bore a rank growth of tall plants, among which the 
 mulberry-coloured blossoms and broad white leaves of 
 the milk-weed wiere conspicuous. There were charm- 
 ing walks along the river bank under the shade of the 
 forest, which hung over the water, from the northern 
 slopes. 
 
 The interior of the inn was more calculated for indi- 
 vidual comfort than those ordinarily met with out of 
 the principal cities in the United States. I was de- 
 lighted to observe a large family Bible with the ordi- 
 nary list of family births, marriages, and deaths, on 
 the side-table of our sitting-room. It was easy to see 
 
56 
 
 THE NEW ENGLANDER. 
 
 that we were in the " land of sober habits," and many 
 things brought England to mind. 
 
 It was here our lot to spend a quiet Sunday. During 
 the earlier hours of the day, a few loungers were seen 
 under the arcade of our inn, else the village appeared 
 deserted. Suddenly divers gigs, light carts, sulkies, 
 and horsemen, came from all sides, and congregated 
 under a line of sheds constructed at the back of the 
 ciiurch. The congregation assembled. A plain and 
 unaffected sermon was delivered by a baptist minister, 
 prefjiced and followed by the congregational singing, 
 led by the feeble notes of a single flute. The service 
 ended, the quiet street of the village appeared, for an 
 instant, full of busy feet ; doors were opened and shut, 
 the gigs and sulkies were filled, and straightway 
 whirled away ; but a few minutes sufficed to restore it 
 to its solitude, and for the remainder of the day, hardly 
 a sound was heard. The good people of Royalton 
 seemed to be quietly digesting the spiritual food thus 
 afforded them, and their Sunday was literally a day of 
 rest. 
 
 The manners and habits of this great eastern divi- 
 sion of the American people are strikingly distinct 
 from those of their fellow citizens to the southward. 
 The character of the inhabitants of New England for 
 diligence, shrewdness, and all those matter-of-fact 
 talents which tell in a country like this, where every 
 man is struggling to get and maintain an indepen- 
 dence, is probably familiar to you. They are specu- 
 lative, at the same time that their caution, clearsighted- 
 ness, and indomitable perseverance, generally ensure 
 success. In politics, their practical conduct is strikingly 
 opposed to the theoretical vagaries of the south. They 
 have often, and not without reason, been compared to 
 the northern inhabitants of our own island : but, I 
 think, the New Englanders have all the steadiness and 
 prudence of the Scotch, with a yet greater degree of 
 ingenuity. Like the Scotch, they foster education ; 
 Hke the Scotch, they are inclined to the more severe 
 forms of religious discipline and worship ; like the 
 
THE NEW ENGLANDER. 
 
 57 
 
 Scotch, they are fearfully long-winded ; like them they 
 are gadders abroad, loving to turn their faces south- 
 ward and westward, pushing their fortunes wherever 
 fortunes are to be pushed, and often in places and by 
 shifts where no one ever dreamed that fortunes were 
 to be gained. They may be found supplanting the 
 less energetic possessor of land and property in every 
 state of the Union. They have a finger upon the rim 
 of ever}^ man's dish, and a toe at every man's heel. 
 They are the pedlers and schoolmasters of the whole 
 country ; and, though careless of good living abroad, 
 when at home and at ease, they are fond of" creature 
 comforts." No where is the stomach of the traveller 
 or visitor put in such constant peril as among the cake- 
 inventive housewives and daughters of New England. 
 Such is the universal attention paid to this particular 
 branch of epicurism in these States, that I greatly sus- 
 pect that some of the Pilgrim Fathers must have come 
 over to the country with the cookery book under one 
 arm and the Bible under the other ; though I find in 
 more than one code of ancient laws made in early times, 
 orders issued that no person should make " cakes or 
 buns, except for solemn festal occasions, such as 
 burials and marriages." There are but few boys 
 among them ; many of their children seem to start up 
 at once to puny men. I should not think they were a 
 fun-loving nation, or had great reverence for holidays ; 
 — jokes are an abomination to many among them. 
 
 Though, in common with all Americans, they are 
 proud and boastful of their claims to unlimited freedom, 
 they are fond of imposing grievous burdens upon the 
 inferior orders of animals within their power ; and you 
 see horses and cows, pigs and geese, labouring under 
 the most singular yokes it is possible to conceive. 
 
 The faults allied to this kind of character are easily 
 recognizable. Where education and religion have had 
 their proper influence, and high-mindedness, and innate 
 sense of honour exist, all this shrewdness and strength of 
 character will add to the respectability of the possessor, 
 and to the good of the social circle. But where they 
 
58 
 
 THE NEW ENGLANDER. 
 
 are allied with meanness and littleness of soul, they 
 must bear the stamp of sordid and low cunning in petty 
 transactions, anrl of uncompromising, ungenerous 
 aggrandisement and selfishness in larger operations. 
 Hence the diverse terms in which you hear the socalled 
 Yankee or Easternman named, and the praise and 
 obh)quy with which the character I have attempted so 
 roughly to sketch is alternately drawn. I was never, 
 to my knowledge, taken in by any of my particular or 
 casual acquaintance in any of the Eastern states, and I 
 am far from believing, though I may have laughed at 
 the thousand-and-one-tales related of the extravagant 
 ingenuity and cunnirig of the Yankee pedlers tramping 
 through every nook of the Union ; but I can easily 
 conceive that there is many an arrant rogue among 
 them, and many an arrant goose among their cus- 
 tomers. 
 
 I have in pure idleness given you as harmless a 
 sketch of the character of one great division of these 
 doughty republicans as was ever penned, and surely so 
 far I should escape having my name held up to national 
 scorn and obloquy, by my Transatlantic acquaintances, 
 should it ever get to their ears. But I must not make 
 too sure; for a man sometimes gets spiteful in spite of 
 himself, and I may possibly by and by, in the progress 
 of my relation, arrive at a place where I was both cross 
 and crossed, had the tooth-ache, was disappointed or 
 contradicted, met with dull weather or a cold breakfast, 
 and then you may find that I occasionally see through 
 a bilious medium, and can find fault, like other English 
 travellers, with all and every thing about me. 
 
 From Royalton, we crossed the chain to Rutland. 
 We were told we should find in the latter a far more 
 elegant town, which we found to mean, more pretend- 
 ing, more scattered, more starin*?, and more bustling. 
 
 We did not forget our promise to ' bvde tryste' at 
 Saratoga on the first days of August, and turning to 
 the westward from Bennington, we crossed the Hudson 
 at Lansinghurg, and were there at the time appointed. 
 
 I shall not however detain you here at present, but 
 
POPULATION OF AMERICA. 
 
 59 
 
 with permission, will leave any allusion to the gay 
 motley crowd at that fashionable resort till another op- 
 portunity, and will carry you forward with me to iNia- 
 gara, which we visited in the month of August, 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 In attempting in this, or any future letter, to give 
 you an idea of ' men and manners' in the United States 
 - — which, by the by, would seem to be a most porten- 
 tous and dangerous subject for any person, male or 
 female, to meddle with, — I would always have you 
 bear in mind, that traits which might be introduced as 
 characteristic of one state of society, or of one class of 
 individuals, will hardly admit of general application to 
 the peop le as a nation. The only distinctive and really 
 characteristic marks exhibited by the mass of the po- 
 pulation are, perhaps, a hearty detestation of monarchi- 
 cal forms of government on the one hand and a bound- 
 less admiration of the republican form under which they 
 live on the other. 
 
 As to the rest, where is their nationality ? The fact 
 is, that, in their present condition, the people of these 
 countries cannot be considered to have a national char- 
 acter. It is even to be doubted whether they will ever 
 amalgamate sufficiently, under the great difference of 
 temperament, style of life and habits consequent upon 
 such diverse climates alone, to admit of one picture, 
 however broadly sketched, being in every particular 
 characteristic of the whole. How can the same de- 
 scription of men and manners be applicable to a mixed 
 population, spread over such a vast extent of country, 
 under such very different circumstances, of such differ- 
 ent blood and origin ? Turn to whichever part of the 
 Union you may, manners perfectly distinct from each 
 other, trticeable to the stock from which the individual 
 
60 ABSENCE OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. 
 
 sprang, in person, dwellings, prejudices, preposses- 
 sions and modes of expression are distinguishable. 
 
 Here you will find the children of the Pilgrim 
 Fathers, and the early colonists from the pure English 
 stock ; whose descendants have also spread over the 
 fresh virgin soil of Ohio, and the other states in the 
 same parallel, and planted themselves in every part of 
 the Union where shrewdness and industry could w^in 
 their way. You may trace the French Refugee in 
 West Chester; the Dutch in New York ; the German 
 in the valley of the Mohawk ; the Swede in New 
 Jersey and Delaware ; the Quaker and the German in 
 Pennsylvania, together with distinct colonies of Irish ; 
 — the descendant of the Cavalier in Virginin, Mary- 
 land, and the States to the south, and the Italian and 
 Spaniard in Florida. On the other hand, between the 
 Creole in Louisiana, and the French Canadian on the 
 Upper Lakes and rivers — you detect many races of 
 men, with peculiar habits and manners, distinct from 
 each other, like all those enumerated, in many particu- 
 lars, though for the time bound together by a common 
 government, and the ties of common interest. 
 
 When, in addition to this evident reason why a given 
 description of 'men and manners' which may be a true 
 picture when applied to one corner of the country, 
 must be inapplicable to another, the unsettled state of 
 a large proportion of the population, the advantages 
 enjoyed by one portion for the attainment of a high 
 degree of civilization, and the disadvantages under 
 which another may labour, are all admitted, who would 
 expect that any description of character or manners 
 I were to be considered national ? Yet, neither foreigners, 
 nor, it might be surmised, the Americans themselves, 
 appear aware of this. Less surprise may be felt, how- 
 ever, at the temper of mind with which a prejudiced or 
 superficial foreigner sets down any particular tiait, 
 (especially if a discreditable one) as characteristic of 
 the whole people from Maine to Florida, — than at the 
 utter perversity and sensitiveness of mind, of by far the 
 greater majority of Americans of whatever class, in 
 
STATE OF NATIONAL FEELING. 
 
 61 
 
 taking to heart and bitterly resenting any chance re- 
 marks upon the *men and manners' of a given district, 
 when perhaps not exactly of a laudatory description, — 
 thus making the quarrel of one division of the com- 
 munity the quarrel of all. In this respect there is 
 doubtless a characteristic nationality of feeling. To 
 see a gentleman of Boston or Baltimore, resenting by 
 word and deed, the sketch published to the world of 
 the society of a district of the West, borders on the 
 ludicrous, the more so, as, if untravelled, they are fre- 
 quently as ignorant of the real state of things there, as a 
 stay-at-home Englishman might be supposed to be. It 
 impresses one with the idea, that the inhabitants of the 
 United States, little mercy as they show each other in 
 their stormy political contests, little measure as they 
 hold in their terms of satire and obloquy, defamation 
 and abuse of parties and individuals in their public 
 prints, are sensitive as a people, beyond example, to 
 criticism from without, and more particularly so when 
 the observation comes from an inhabitant of Britain. 
 This weakness almost amounts to a national disease. 
 A little thought may, perhaps, suggest some reason 
 for it. 
 
 The English have not, as a nation, whatever may be 
 supposed by those who gather their estimate of national 
 feeling from the Reviews, much sympathy with this 
 kind of sensitiveness. We have arrived at that happy 
 pitch of national self-esteem, and our national pride is 
 so little disturbed by unwelcome surmises or suspicions 
 that in this or that particular we are really emulated or 
 surpassed by our neighbours, that we calmly set down 
 any one who comes among us, and tells us that in certain 
 matters John Bull is surpassed by other nations, or an 
 object of ridicule to them, as an ignorant or spiteful 
 twaddler at once, and do not suffer the national temper 
 to be ruffled. Having now, for so many years, been ac- 
 customed to have justice done us by our neighbours on 
 all main points, however unwillingly, we can even afford 
 to be satirized, or, as we would say, caricatured, in 
 some minor particulars, and can magnanimously laugh 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
62 
 
 STATE OF NATIONAL FEELING. 
 
 at the same. But not with America. She feels, 
 and with reason, that jusiii i hns not always been done 
 her in essentials, and by Britain in particular. She 
 knows that ther.e has been a spirit abroad having a 
 tendency to keep the truth and her real praise away 
 from the eye of the world, shrouded behind a vein of 
 course ribaldry, and detail of vulgarities, which, if not 
 positively untrue, were at least so invidiously chosen, 
 and so confirmatory of prejudice, and so far caricature, 
 when applied to the people as a mass, as almost to 
 bear the stigma of untruth. She has felt that the pro- 
 gress made in n very limited period of time, and amidst 
 many disadvantages, in reclaiming an immense conti- 
 nent from the wilderness, in covering it with innumera- 
 ble flourishing settlements; her success in the mechanic 
 arts ; her noble institutions in aid of charitable pur- 
 poses ; the public spirit of her citizens; their gigantic 
 ^undertakings to facilitate interior communication ; their 
 growing commerce in every quarter of the globe ; the 
 indomitable perseverance of her sons ; the general at- 
 tention to education, and tlie reverence for religion, 
 wherever the population has become permanently 
 fixed ; and the generally mild and successful operation 
 of their government; have been overlooked, or only 
 casually mentioned, while the failings, rawness of 
 character, and ill-harmonized state of society in many 
 parts ; the acts of lawless individuals, and the slang 
 and language of the vulgar, have been held promi- 
 nently forward to excite scorn, provoke satire, and 
 strengthen prejudice. In short, she has felt that her 
 true claims upon respect and admiration have been 
 either unknown or undervalued in Europe, and that 
 especially that nation with whom she had the greatest 
 national affinity, was inclined to be the most perse- 
 veringly unjust. 
 
 Hence partly arises, it may be surmised, the queru- 
 lous state of sensitiveness, to which allusion has been 
 made, and also that disposition to swagger and ex- 
 aggerate, which has been laid to the charge of many 
 Americans, not without reason. 
 
STATE OF NATIONAL FEELING. 
 
 63 
 
 As long as the national temper maintains this morbid 
 tone, I have become more and more convinced that it 
 will allow the justice of no criticism; and that no indi- 
 vidual, however honest and striving against prejudice, 
 however conciliatory, however sincerely regarding the 
 people and their institutions with respect, however con- 
 vinced that he who foments the ill-will and prejudice 
 that may exist between the two countries, ill serves his 
 own, the cause of humanity in the world, or the nobler 
 ends of travel and observation — I say, no one will 
 write a book, depicting the state of things in the 
 United States, as they are, with all their unavoidable 
 crudities and anomalies, and give the public mind in 
 that country satisfaction. Moreover it is to be doubted 
 whether any great good is ever to be effected by foreign 
 criticism, especiallj^ in a case like that before you, 
 where the criticized puts hiraself without the circle in 
 which European rules and deductions, whether politi- 
 cal or otherwise, would be deemed decisive. America 
 must correct her failings, by the free course of her own 
 native good sense, and I believe will do it where cor- 
 rection is needful. One thing is certain, she professes 
 to have no more patience with our opinions, or respect 
 for our gratuitous advice, than a painter would have 
 for that of a circle of critics, who surround his easel, 
 to pass judgment upon his projected chef d'oeuvre, of 
 which nothing but the preparatory shades appear on 
 the canvass. 
 
 As to myself, I was neither tempted while in the 
 country to brood over the disagreeable, nor to look on 
 the dark side, neither can I do so now. I was treated 
 every where with courtesy and good humour, and what 
 less can I return ? 
 
 Causes for dissatisfaction and disgust will always 
 be discovered by the seeker, wiioever and wherever 
 he may be. There is no wit in describing as peculiar 
 to America, that which is common to all the world. 
 As to coarseness and vulgarity of mind and manners, 
 it is not, that abundance is not to be found in our own 
 country, but that it is, from circumstances easily under- 
 
64 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 Stood, more obtruded for the present into prominent 
 positions in America: at the same time it must be 
 allowed that in most situations, you may escape from 
 its contemplation if you will. Does it not appear f 
 to you that there is something essentially vulgar in 
 that mind, which in spite of its alleged disgust, can 
 continually occupy itself with coarseness in others, and 
 load itself and the memory with its details? 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 You may recollect my juvenile weakness, that of 
 being a notorious cascade-hunter. There was some- 
 thing in the motion of a waterfall which always made 
 my brain spin with pleasure. Impelled by this passion, 
 as a boy, I ransacked the moorland and mountain 
 districts of the north of England, in quest of the beau- 
 tiful but diminutive specimens of this variety of natu- 
 ral scenery with which they abound ; and at a later 
 period, there was not an accessible waterfall within 
 my range of travel from the Rhine Fall to Tivoli, that 
 I did not contrive to approach, gaze upon, and listen 
 to with infinite pleasure. So you may well ask what 
 impression was made upon me by Niagara. 
 
 I am glad that the position and the general features 
 of this celebrated scene are too well known to need 
 description, and that you will require none from me. 
 
 At the commencement of the present century, Ni- 
 agara, difficult of access, and rarely visited, was still 
 the cataract of the wilderness. The red Indian still 
 lingered in its vicinity, and adored the Great Spirit 
 and 'Master of Life' as he listened to the 'Thunder 
 of the waters.'* The human habitations within sound 
 of its fall were rare and far apart. Its few visitors came^ 
 
 *Such is the signification of the Indian word Niagara, 
 
NIAGARA. 
 
 65 
 
 gazed, and departed in silence and awe, having for 
 their guide the child of the forest or the hardy back- 
 woodsman. No staring, painted hotel rose over the 
 woods and obtruded its pale face over the edge of the 
 boiling river. The journey to it from the east was 
 one of adventure and peril. The scarcely attainable 
 shore of Goat Island, lying between the two great di- 
 visions of the cataract, had only been trodden by a few 
 hardy adventurers, depending upon stout hearts and 
 steady hands for escape from the imminent perils of 
 the passage. — How is it now ? The forest has every- 
 where yielded to the axe. Hotels with their snug 
 shrubberies, out-houses, gardens, and paltry establish- 
 ment stare you in the face : museums, mills, staircases, 
 tolls, and grog-shops, all the petty trickery of Mat- 
 lock- Baths or Ambleside, greet the eye of the travel- 
 ler. Bridges are thrown from island to island ; and 
 Goat Island is reached without adventure. A scheming 
 company on the Canadian side, have planned a ' City 
 of the Falls,' to be filled with snug cottages, symmetri- 
 cally placed, to let for the season ; and in fine, you 
 write to your friend in Quebec, and give him rendez- 
 vous at Niagara for a certain hour, and start yourself 
 from Richmond, in Virginia, for the point proposed, 
 with a moral certainty of meeting at the very day and 
 hour specified, by taking advantage of the improve- 
 ments of the age, and the well-arranged modes of con- 
 veyance by steamers, rail-roads, canals, and coaches. 
 
 In short, Niagara is now as hacknied as Stockgill- 
 Force or Rydal-water, and, all things considered, the 
 observation which an unimaginative ' Eastern man' is 
 said to have made, addressing a young lady tourist, 
 who was gazing breathlessly for the first time at the 
 scene, was not so far out of keeping with it : ' Isn't 
 it nice, Miss.^ Yes, all is nice, very nice, that that 
 active little biped man has done or is doing.' 
 
 But do not imagine that we grew peevish at the 
 sight of the blots upon the landscape, to which I have 
 alluded, and departed in wrath and disgust. We soon 
 found that there was that in and about Niagara which 
 
 6* 
 
66 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 was not to be marred by busy man and all his petty 
 schemes for convenience and self-aggrandisement; and 
 I may truly say, with regard to both our first and 
 second visit, and stay within its precincts, that we 
 were under the influence of its spell. While within 
 the sound of its waters, I will not say you become part 
 and parcel of the cataract, but you find it difficult to 
 think, speak, or dream of any thing else. Its vibra- 
 tions pervade, not only the air you breathe, the bank 
 on which you sit, the paper on which you write, but 
 thrill through your whole frame, and act upon your 
 nervous system in a remarkable, and it may almost be 
 said an unpleasant manner. 
 
 You may have heard of individuals coming back 
 from the contemplation of these Falls, with dissatisfied 
 feelings. To me this is perfectly incomprehensible, 
 and I do not know whether to envy the splendid fancies 
 and expectations of that class of travellers, to whom 
 the sight of Niagara would bring disappointment, or 
 to feel justified in doubting whether they have any 
 imagination or eye for natural scenery at all. How 
 blank the world must be to them of objects of natural 
 interest. What can they expect to see i 
 
 As to expectations, ours were excited and warm, 
 and I shall never forget the real anxiety with which we 
 looked out, on our ascent from Lewistown, for the 
 first appearance of the object of our visit. The broad 
 fathomless blue river, streaked with foam, which, deeply 
 sunk in a colossal channel, hurried to our rencontre, 
 and appeared at every fresh glimpse as we advanced, 
 swifter and in greater commotion, was to us a guar- 
 antee that the scene of its descent from the upper 
 country could be no common one. When about three 
 miles from the village on the American side, you gain 
 your first view of the Falls, together with the river, 
 both above and below, — the island which divides 
 them, — and greater part of the basin at their feet. 
 
 I will not say but that the impression of that first 
 glance was heighiented afterward by our nearer and 
 reiterated survey of every portion of the cataract in 
 
NIAGARA. 
 
 67 
 
 detail ; yet we all agreed that we could even then 
 grasp the idea of its magnitude, and that all we had 
 seen elsewhere, and all we had expected, was far sur- 
 passed by what was then shown to us. And when, the 
 following year, two of us turned aside by common con- 
 sent to pay a second visit to Niagara, after having, in 
 the interval, visited many of the great falls of Lower 
 Canada, — cataracts in comparison to which all Eu- 
 ropean Falls are puerile ; and we felt our curiosity 
 excited to divine what impression a second visit would 
 make — far from being disappointed, we felt that before 
 Niagara, in spite of its comparative inferiority of ele- 
 vation, all shrunk to playthings. 
 
 It is not the mere weight and volume of water that 
 should give this far-famed cataract the first rank. 
 Everj^ surrounding object seems to be on a correspond- 
 ing scale of magnificence. The wide liquid surface of 
 the river above, with its swelling banks, contrasted by 
 the deep blue floods below, as, boiling up from their 
 plunge, into the unfathomed basin they shock against 
 one another, and race down toward the distant lake; 
 the extreme beauty of the forested defile, with its pre- 
 cipices and slopes ; the colouring of the waters, which 
 in the upper part of its descent, is that of the emerald ; 
 the mystery and thick gloom w hich hide the foot of the 
 falls, and add to their apparent height, and the floating 
 clouds of vapour, now hurried over the face of the 
 landscape, as though urged by the breath of a hurri- 
 cane, and then slowly ascending and hovering like a 
 cloud in the blue sky, all combine to form a scene in 
 which sublimity and picturesque beauty are enchant- 
 ingly blended. There is here none of that stiffness 
 either in the scenery, or the form and appearance of 
 the particular object of interest, which engravings too 
 frequently give you the idea of. 
 
 Among the innumerable points of view, that from 
 the precipitous shore of the river, about the distance 
 I have alluded to, is the most satisfactory, if not the 
 most strikmg. In the immediate vicinity of the Falls, 
 the points of interest are so various, that if you would 
 
68 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 require a sketch, I should not know which to select. 
 The grandest, doubtless, is from the Canadian shore, 
 near the Horse-shoe Fall ; but you pass from one to 
 the other, and everywhere the picture presented has 
 no compeer or rival in nature. 
 
 Many things combined to make us prefer choosing 
 the village on the American shore, for our halting place, 
 in preference to the garish hotel on the opposite side. 
 The greater monotony of the right-hand division of 
 the cataract was counterbalanced by the grand distant 
 view of its more varied neighbour, and by the practi- 
 cability of a near approach to both from Goat Island, 
 to which an easy access is aflbrded by a boldly-con- 
 structed bridge over the rapids. Besides, we agreed 
 that the position of that village and its inns, was not 
 only more rural and secluded, but that better taste was 
 exhibited in its details. 
 
 What a glorious scene ! To sit upon the summit 
 of the impending precipice of the island, and see, as 
 we did the morning after our first arrival, the summer 
 mist begin to rise and disengage itself from the heavy 
 white cloud of spray which rose from the depth of the 
 boiling basin of the Great Fall beneath us. By de- 
 grees, the curtain was partially removed, revealing the 
 wall of slowly-descending water behind, now dimly 
 descried, — as, confounded with the floating sheets of 
 foam and spray which the wind of the mighty cataract 
 drove backward and forward over it like innumerable 
 clouds of thin floating gauze, — it mocked us with its 
 constantly varying shape and position ; and then ap- 
 pearing unveiled with its sea-green tints, brilliantly 
 illuminated by the passing sun-beam. An hour after, 
 and the mist had disappeared ; the Falls were spark- 
 ling in the bright sunshine ; and a brilliant Iris was 
 resting on the body of vapour which the wind carried 
 away from the face of the descending columns. The 
 scene at sun-set, day after day, was no way less majes- 
 tic, when the sun, glancing from the Canadian side of 
 the river, lit up the precipices and woods of Goat 
 Island, and the broad face of the American Fall, which 
 
NIAGARA. 
 
 69 
 
 then glowed like a wall of gold ; while half the Fall 
 of the horse-shoe, and the deep recesses of the curve 
 were wrapped in shade. Morning, noon, and night, 
 found us strolling about the shore, and on the island, 
 which is an earthly paradise. 
 
 I remember the quiet hours spent there, when fa- 
 tigued with the glare of the hot bright sun, and the din 
 of the Falls, with peculiar delight. We loved, too, to 
 escape from all those signs of man's presence, and 
 busy-bodying to which I have alluded, and, burying 
 ourselves in the fresh, dark, scarce-trodden forest still 
 covering a great part of its area, to listen to the dead- 
 ened roar of the vast cataracts on either hand, swelling 
 on the air distinct from every other sound. 
 
 There, seated in comparative solitude, you catch a 
 peep, across a long irregular vista of stems, of the 
 white vapour and foam. You listen to the sharp cry 
 of the blue jay, the tap of the red-headed woodpecker, 
 and the playful bark of the squirrel ; you scan the 
 smooth white boles of the beech or birch, checquered 
 with broad patches of dark-green moss, the stately 
 elm and oak, the broad-leaved maple, the silvery white 
 and exquisitely chiselled trunk of the cedar, or the 
 decaying trunk of the huge chesnut, garlanded with 
 creepers ; but you will hardly ever lose the conscious- 
 ness of the locality. Tlie spell of Niagara is still upon 
 and around ^^ou. You glance again and again at the 
 white veil which thickens or grows dim beyond the 
 leafy forest : — the rush of the nearer rapids, the din of 
 falling waters, the murmur of the echoes answering 
 the pulsations of the descending mass, fill your ears, 
 and pervade all nature. 
 
 Every thing around and about you appears to reply 
 to the Cataract, and to partake of it, none more so than 
 the evergreen forest which is bathed from year to year 
 in the dew of the river. These noble trees, as they 
 tower aloft on the soil, are sustained from youth to age 
 by the invigorating spray of the mighty Falls. Their 
 leaves are steeped, summer after summer, in the heavy 
 dew, their trunks echo the falling waters, from the day 
 
70 
 
 LAKE ERIE. 
 
 they rise from the sod, to that in which they are shaken 
 to the ground ; and the fibres of the huge moss-grown 
 trunk, on which you sit, prostrate and mouldering on 
 the rich mould beneath, bedded in the fresh grass and 
 leaves, still vibrate to the sound of its thunders, and 
 crumble gradually to dust. But all this proves nothing 
 — as a matter-of-fact man might say — but that I am 
 Niagara mad. We have much before us and many 
 sublime scenes, though none may vie with that, before 
 which we have been lingering : — allons ! 
 
 On our departure from Buffalo, the thriving port 
 at the eastern extremity of Lake Erie, an important 
 change was effected in the previous plans of our little 
 party. These had in some measure threatened a sepa- 
 ration from our friend Washington Irving, to whom 
 the Canadian provinces, which Pourtales and myself 
 had intended to take as our next step, offered no par- 
 ticular interest. He therefore meditated a return to 
 New-York by the Ohio. Divers and kindly meant 
 were the attempts repeatedly made to bring each other 
 to adopt unity of plan, yet without success, till most 
 fortunately, a few hours before the separation was to 
 take place, an unexpected circumstance was the means 
 of re-uniting us in one common scheme. We had 
 taken our passage on board a steamboat, bound for 
 Detroit, but touching as usual at the intermediate 
 ports, at one of which, on the Ohio shore, Mr. Irving 
 proposed landing, while we accompanied the vessel to 
 the end of the voyage. 
 
 It was our fortune to meet on board with a gentle- 
 man, the communication of whose business and plans 
 instantly reconciled us to any modification of ours 
 which might be necessary to enable us to adopt the 
 same. 
 
 The General Government had at this epoch deter- 
 mined to send out certain gentlemen as commissioners, 
 to arrange various matters connected with the Indian 
 tribes newly congregated on the western frontiers. 
 Prior to this, experience having shown the insurmount- 
 able inconveniences and the evils consequent upon the 
 
CINCINNATI. 
 
 71 
 
 existence of bodies of men in their savage state in the 
 centre of civilization, a resolution had been taken by 
 the people of the United States to extinguish the claims 
 of the Indian tribes to lands east of the Mississippi, by 
 the gradual purchase of their lands or reservations, and 
 to remove beyond that river. This project was now 
 in the course of gradual execution, and divisions of 
 many of the tribes were already ranged along the 
 western boundary of Missouri and Arkansas. Others 
 w^ere on the point of removal. The commission to 
 which I have alluded was to be stationed at the fron- 
 tier-post of Fort Gibson, about eight hundred miles 
 up the Arkansas river, and thither our new acquain- 
 tance. Judge E. of Hartford, one of the three com- 
 missioners, was proceeding by way of St Louis, and 
 the State of Missouri. We learned from him that from 
 this point it was contemplated to dispatch expeditions 
 to various parts of the unexplored region to the West, 
 to examine the surface of the country, and report upon 
 the practicability of any portion of it being set aside 
 for the occupation of the Indian tribes still to be re- 
 moved. To the solicitation made that Mr. Irving 
 would join company, and connect himself with the 
 commission, so far as he might find it agreeable, a 
 prompt acquiescence was yielded on his part, as so 
 doing merely entailed an extension of his plans ; and 
 as far as my comrade and myself were concerned, the 
 frank promise of hearty welcome, if we would also 
 form part of the expedition to further our own projects, 
 offered loo much temptation to be resisted or rejected. 
 
 So the tour in the Canadas was relinquished for the 
 present, and it was now — hurra ! for the Far West ! 
 
 No certain intelligence as to the movements of others 
 connected with the Commission could be gained, till 
 we should reach Louisville in Kentucky, and landing 
 at Ashtabula, we had to repair thither with all becom- 
 ing speed by way of Cleveland, Newark, Columbus, 
 and Cincinnati. 
 
72 
 
 SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 In a recent letter I referred to the circumstances 
 attending the early settlement of New England. 
 Those which distinguished the first colonization of 
 these rich regions of the West beyond the mountains, 
 carry with them a yet greater degree of interest. 
 Neither the history of the English colonists in Vir- 
 ginia, nor of those in the Eastern States, despite their 
 fierce struggles with the red proprietors of the soil, 
 can be said to be distinguished by an equal air of 
 romance. The posts of the advancing column of civili- 
 zation in these instances, were ordinarily pushed 
 forward with a degree of caution, and seldom so 
 far, as to be totally beyond the reach of co-operation 
 and support. Here however the case was different. 
 We see small companies of men, and even single 
 individuals, impelled by a spirit of adventure, and 
 the love of a free unshackled life, venturing some 
 hundred of miles in advance, over a difficult and ele- 
 vated mountain barrier, planting themselves fearlessl}' 
 in the wilderness on the other side, and remaining, 
 without the hope of aid for months in utter solitude, 
 in a region, where nothing but the most sleepless 
 caution could secure their lives against the merciless 
 and wily savage. 
 
 It might be asked by some of the tame gentlemen 
 of Europe, what was the object of these half-savages, 
 and where the utility of encountering such a perilous 
 state of exile. Were they criminals flying from the 
 punishment of misdeeds which imperatively obliged 
 them to get beyond the pale of orderly society ? No. 
 Was it sheer necessity ? No. Was it lust of gain ? 
 Not altogether. Love of glory ? No. Love of science ? 
 Still less. Were they young and ignorant of the 
 perils ? No, Boone was forty years old. More fool 
 
SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 73 
 
 he ! would answer many a one, who never would 
 comprehend the motives and impulses of such vagrants. 
 Yet even in the best regulated, most orderly, and 
 most civilized state of society, in which the prevailing 
 temper is to pursue and to love a quiet state of exist- 
 ence, in which the variations and even extraordinary 
 incidents are so commonplace and so gentle, as hardly 
 to ruffle the monotony of its course, and where any 
 departure from the ordinary boundaries is rather set 
 down as a crime than a virtue, — even there will be 
 found individuals in whose bosom there is a fire of 
 restlessness which cannot endure a life of monotonous 
 regularity. In Europe, in olden time, chivalry with all 
 its romance, war, knight-errantry, minstrelsy, love, and 
 nonsense, provided what was then a legitimate channel 
 for those of this cast; and the temper of the times 
 increased their number. 
 
 Till lately, war served the same purpose, drawing 
 off the humours from the body politic ; and the rest- 
 less spirits of the times found an asylum and occupa- 
 tion in arms. However, in time of peace such ex- 
 citement no longer exists, and little remains but the 
 discipline, which is wormwood to the young and im- 
 petuous. 
 
 It is from among those possessed of this restlessness 
 of body and mind, that you may, in looking over the 
 records of human actions, cull the greatest number of 
 great men of all countries and ages, — men who dare 
 attempt what others dare not ; at the same time, for 
 one individual, who, forsaking the beaten path, has, by 
 striking fortuitously into a more noble one suited to his 
 talents, left a name and a character for high deeds to 
 posterity, thousands, nay, tens of thousands, have only 
 left the hackneyed road to disappear in the swamp, and 
 fall into oblivion or ignominy. 
 
 At the present time, the doors of the temple of 
 Janus remain shut ; chivalry is out of fashion, — ay, 
 not only its absurdities, but many of its noble, gener- 
 ous, courteous, and Christian graces. The increase 
 of population has glutted the professions; modes and 
 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
74 
 
 SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 methods of distinction for the restless, which a century 
 ago would have allured them, are now worn out. 
 Travelling, the love of loconriotion, that great resource 
 for the changeful spirit, is no longer nriade of distinc- 
 tion. It is no longer a solitary being toiling forward 
 in doubt and peril, and earning the right to be the sole 
 narrator of the earth's wonders, but whole squadrons 
 pouring down every European road. Ladies' maids 
 and bandboxes are seen at the cataracts of the Nile, 
 and our wives and sisters make the over-land passage 
 to India. As to forging and highway robbery, there 
 are now so many ways found out of cheating your friend 
 with perfect safety to your person, that it is not worth 
 while to run the risks of either, alluring as some of the 
 pictures lately given to the public might be. 
 
 One consequence of the present state of things ap- 
 pears to be, that the quantum of restlessness, formerly 
 absorbed by a few comparatively, is now thrown into 
 the composition of the whole mass, and, though diluted, 
 produces strange effects. 
 
 Hence these shoals of travellers; the overcrowded 
 watering-places ; those new lights in politics, religion, 
 and education ; the innumerable speculations and con- 
 sequent bankruptcies ; the general impatience of gov- 
 ernment, and of moral as well as physical control. 
 Hence this golden age of roguery and radicalism, cant 
 and charlatanerie ; disunion, disloyalty, want of faith. 
 Well might we say, Alas, for the times of chivalry ! 
 How many men of the present day, had they been 
 born under its star, might have had their restlessness 
 satisfied by giving or receiving many a hearty thwack 
 and bang on the head, instead of doing the mischief to 
 society which they threaten. How many might have 
 run a better chance of honourable mention as stalwart 
 knights and jousters, than they promise to do as politi- 
 cians and reformers. 
 
 But to return from what may well be called a digres- 
 sion. To this spirit of restlessness, more than any 
 other passion, it would seem that the early settlement 
 of Kentucky and the West is to be ascribed. The 
 
SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 75 
 
 hap-hazard and in some measure precarious existence 
 of the Virginian and Carolinian frontier settler, was, as 
 you will imagine, particularly favourable to the devel- 
 opment of this restless feeling. 
 
 The French, who were the greatest pioneers of the 
 country of the Lakes and upper Mississippi, had about 
 the middle of the last century erected a fort at the 
 junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers, where 
 Pittsburg now stands, for the protection of their 
 trade on the Ohio, and the facility of making outfits ; 
 yet up to the defeat of General Braddock, or even 
 ten years after it, nothing seems to have been known 
 to the Anglo-Americans of the country to the west of 
 the mountains and the south of the Ohio river. It is 
 diflicult for one, who, like myself, has seen the teem- 
 ing population of the West at the present day, to be- 
 lieve, that two thirds of a century ago no white man 
 had crossed the mountains of Virginia, to discover 
 what lay on the other side. Yet such was the case ! 
 However, the time was coming when this vast extent 
 of country was also to be brought under the dominion 
 of the white man, and be added to that rich heritage 
 which he should leave his children. 
 
 Ample as the country might seem to be on the 
 eastern side of the Blue Ridge, and other lines of the 
 Apalachian chain dividing the waters of the West 
 from those of the Atlantic, it was beginning to be too 
 crowded for some of the settlers. In their eyes, the 
 country was becoming too thickly settled ; the opera- 
 tion of the law, gentle as it might be, w^as too severe ; 
 the forests, from the increase of population, had be- 
 come two scant of game — they had lived too long in 
 one place. They knew nothing of the unexplored 
 regions beyond the mountains; but, that from that 
 quarter descended the bands of savages, which occa- 
 sionally harried the higher settlements on the upper 
 waters, from the Susquehanna to the Peedee. 
 
 In 1749, a lunatic, w^andering as was his wont 
 during his paroxysms, crossed the dividing ridge 
 beyond the great valley of Virginia, and on his return 
 asserted that he had been upon streams whose waters 
 
76 
 
 SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 ran to the West. No great public notice seems to have 
 been taken of this discovery. Yet it is upon record 
 that a reconnoitring party, crossing the mountains in 
 the same direction, in the'^year 1751, and falling upon 
 the waters of what is now Green Brier river, a tribu- 
 tary of the Kenhawa, found two solitary white men, na- 
 tives of New England, living on its banks, though some 
 hundred yards distant from each other. Even in that 
 wilderness, human passions and pertinacity of opinion 
 had wrought disharmony, and there they had lived 
 apart from the world and from each other, nothing 
 passing between them but the morning salutation, as 
 the one came from out the hollow tree which served 
 him for a shelter, and the other from his log hut. The 
 Virginians subsequently made a small settlement there, 
 which was utterly cut off in 1763 by an incursion of 
 the Indians. 
 
 It was in 1767 when the first adventurer from the 
 banks of the Yadkin, in North Carolina, a man of the 
 name of Finlay, came back to his family, after a long 
 absence, with accounts of the marvellous beauty and 
 riches of the country beyond the mountains. He sub- 
 sequently returned thither the same year, with a party 
 of which the celebrated Daniel Boone was one ; and 
 from that time forward, adventurers from among the 
 restless inhabitants of the outskirts of civilization were 
 occasionally seen to quit the vicinity of the ' clearings' 
 with their rifles, blankets, and dogs, and, entering the 
 forests, disappear for a while in the direction of the 
 mountains. 
 
 One thing is not to be lost sight of — the experience 
 of one hundred years and upward had not been thrown 
 away, and the hardy backwoodsman of this day had 
 that in his favour which the New England settlers had 
 been without. The modes and resources of Indian 
 warfare were perfectly known to him. He had been 
 cradled in the forests, and had been brought up amidst 
 the alarms of Indian incursions. From his earliest 
 youth he had been taught the value of the rifle, the 
 most powerful and convenient weapon in the world for 
 
SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 77 
 
 the use of a single arm. He knew the nature and 
 resources of the country, and unshackled by the edu- 
 cation or the prejudices of the Old World, the forest 
 was now his home. 
 
 Still the hardihood, presence of mind, patience, and 
 invincible resolution of these pioneers cannot be too 
 highly estimated. I can conceive the feelings of won- 
 der and delight of these first solitary adventurers, 
 when, surmounting the several ridges covered with 
 their splendid vegetation of rhododendron, azaleas, and 
 laurels, they looked down upon that wilderness of fer- 
 tility and rich vegetation to the westward ; that beau- 
 tiful region, which, though it now appeared to them as 
 the land of paradise, was soon to verify its Indian ap- 
 pellation of ' the Dark and Bloody Ground' to them 
 also ; and by these fearful epithets was it subsequently 
 long known and stigmatized. 
 
 The early descriptions extant of the original state 
 and appearance of this portion of the vast valley of the 
 Mississippi, and the impressions they suggested, though 
 recorded by no practised hands, have in them a truth 
 and nature more suited to the sublimity of the subject 
 than the attempts made at a later day with all their 
 labour and finish. Truly, he who would portray the 
 West must use other pallet and pencil than that of a 
 miniature painter. It would appear that while the 
 regions to the north of the Ohio aflTorded a home to 
 divers Indian tribes, the wide tract of country stretch- 
 ing on the southern shores toward the Cumberland 
 mountains and the great river Mississippi, watered by 
 so many noble streams, was claimed by none in parti- 
 cular, but formed a kind of hunting ground, in which 
 innumerable herds of wild animals found food and 
 covert, and the bands of hostile Indians met to pursue 
 alternately war and the chase. 
 
 It is easy to conceive, that the sight of those im- 
 mense herds of bison, an animal hitherto unknown to 
 the settlers, the troops of deer, elk, and bears with 
 which the land abounded, should strongly stimulate 
 men, whose subsistence and gains had hitherto in a 
 
78 SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 great degree depended upon the fruits of the chase. 
 But beyond this the productions and forms of external 
 nature seem to have struck the early adventurers with 
 wonder, when compared with those to which they 
 were famihar on their side of the mountains. 
 
 The unexampled growth of the ordinary forest trees; 
 their frequent disposition over the soil in open woods, 
 unencumbered with brushwood ; the interminable 
 cane-brakes, broken only by the narrow pathways 
 trodden down by the bison and deer ; the luxuriance 
 of every form of vegetation, as it sprung from a virgin 
 soil, whose fertility was as exhaustless as its depth was 
 extraordinary — all these things might well excite sur- 
 prise. Then the fruits, the flowers ; — the magnitude 
 of single trees of the poplar or sycamore species, as 
 their mighty shafts rose a hundred feet into the air, 
 bearing with them their gigantic parasites ; the nume- 
 rous 'salt licks,' frequented by game of every species; 
 the abundant springs and streams, and the extreme 
 beauty of the sward in the more open country ; and 
 the discovery in the depths of untrodden forests of 
 huge artificial mounds and fortifications, covered with 
 the growth of centuries, and the extraordinary relics 
 of a race of enormous animals buried under the soil — 
 all combined to produce a species of unwonted excite- 
 ment, and had their effect in nerving these men to the 
 endurance of their perilous situation, as in small par- 
 ties, or even singly, they sat dow^n to spend days and 
 months in the wilderness, totally cut oflf from all com- 
 munication with their race. Such was the lot of Fin- 
 lay, Boone, and others of the same stamp and mould, 
 whose names will be for ever identified with the disco- 
 very and settlement of the West. From the perti- 
 nacity with which these men would cling to their 
 discovery, it would almost seem as if their hearts mis- 
 gave them, that the whole might prove a delusion, and 
 that if they returned over the mountains, they would 
 never be able to find that rich, and pleasant, and fruit- 
 ful^land again. 
 
 However, the news soon spread among the frontier 
 
SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 79 
 
 settlements of Virginia and the Carolinas. Stronger 
 parties ascended and traversed the ridges of the Alle- 
 ghany. The singular breaks, called Gaps, so frequent 
 in them, were explored ; and within five or six years 
 after Boone's first passage of the mountains, during 
 which he and his companions had repeatedly made 
 fearful experiences of the terrors of this terrestrial 
 paradise — a colony, in which his wife and children 
 were included, was settled in the newly discovered 
 region. From this time up to the victory of General 
 Wayne, on the Miami, over the western savages, the 
 country lay open to a steady tide of immigration 
 from the east. But this interval of twenty years, 
 and especially the earlier part, was one of infinite 
 trouble and disaster to the new colonists both in 
 Kentucky and Tennessee. That species of security 
 which was consequent upon the first adventurers on 
 the w^estern side of the mountains being few in num- 
 ber, unexpected by the savages, and without any fixed 
 place of abode, — a security which had in many in- 
 stances failed after a short time to be available, from 
 the naturally observant and practised eye of the 
 Indian in following any uncommon trail ; this was, 
 of course, altogether at an end, from the moment that 
 parties of any number crossed the frontier, and com- 
 menced permanent settlements in the West. Self- 
 defence was, therefore, the first object of the intrud- 
 ers. The new settlers had decided to live beyond 
 the arm and government of the parent State, and they 
 were consequently also beyond its protection, and had 
 to depend entirely upon the goodness of God, and the 
 vigilance of their own character and courage. Their 
 little assemblage of log cabins was accordingly sur- 
 rounded by a tall strong stockade, to serve as a place 
 of retreat and defence. 
 
 And in such isolated positions, open to the guile of 
 the implacable Indian, exposed to famine from the de- 
 struction of their crops in the neighbourhood, — worn 
 out with sickness and constant watching, — frequently 
 attacked, and never sure of the duration of a time of 
 apparent quiet, — murders and burnings on every side, 
 
80 
 
 SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 did the mothers of Kentucky brood over their little 
 ones. Many of the infant colonies were exterminated 
 root and branch, more were deserted, and the panic- 
 struck inhabitants retraced their steps from the 'Dark 
 and Bloody Ground.' To single combats, and skir- 
 mishes between the colonists and small marauding par- 
 ties of the Indians, followed conflicts between larger 
 parties, gathered together for the attack and defence of 
 a given post; and more than once the numbers of the 
 savages prevailed over the whites, and the strength 
 and best defence of the colony seemed to be cut down 
 to the ground. Prior to the year 1790, it was calcu- 
 lated that not less than three thousand persons were 
 murdered, or carried into captivity in the west. Yet 
 they struggled on. They were a peculiar race, and 
 seemed to be fully nerved to their task. The pliancy 
 of the female character, and the facility with which 
 woman, despite her softer sex, will rise superior to 
 the weakness of her nature, when circumstances im- 
 peratively demand sacrifice and exertion, were never 
 more strikingly displayed. She watched and learned 
 to read the signs which betokened danger, and to aid 
 in repelling it. The very horses, dogs, and cattle 
 scented the Indians, and gave warning of their ap- 
 proach by their signs of mute terror. 
 
 Still, numbers poured into the country, allured by 
 the known fertility of the soil ; and where one settle- 
 ment had been abandoned or destroyed, many sprung 
 up. Wagon after wagon was seen climbing up the 
 eastern steep ; the proprietors cast their last look upon 
 the steril hills and exhausted fields of the old States, 
 and then passing down the laurel-covered ridges to 
 the land of promise, with slaves, children, and cattle, 
 chose their ground, and fixed themselves in the wilder- 
 ness. The parents, perchance, might look back in the 
 hour of difficulty to the land where they had lived, 
 hardly, perhaps, but in security, with something like 
 longing and repentance ; but the children grew up in 
 the midst of the excitement of their position, with in- 
 creasing fondness for the soil, and attachment to their 
 
SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 81 
 
 new homes. Thus, farm after farm was brought into 
 cultivation, and the Indian receded, till from their num- 
 bers and position, those farthest removed from the 
 hostile lines began to taste the blessings of peace and 
 security ; hamlets succeeded to single houses ; villages 
 to towns; roads were made, and magistrates appointed, 
 and the infant country taken under the wing of the 
 parent State. 
 
 Still it was not till toward the close of the century, 
 that there was peace on its borders. The Ohio, which 
 formed the principal highway of the immigrants, was 
 for many years the scene of the most horrible tragedies, 
 the Indian still making his incursions from the north- 
 ward, and using every art to harass the intruders. 
 Open tracks, and decoys, in which the m.iserable 
 whites already in their power were constrained under 
 pain of death to allure the passage boats by piteous 
 appeals to their compassion, and outcries lor assist- 
 ance, to approach the shore and fall into certain de- 
 struction, were alternately resorted to, till the strength 
 of the Indian confederacies was broken by signal de- 
 feat and dispersion to a distance. 
 
 As soon as the country found peace and repose, 
 the claims of the young for education, and that of all 
 classes for the regular protection of the law, and for 
 religious instruction, were felt to be urgent. 
 
 Hitherto the want of some power to repress irregu- 
 larities and punish the crimes, which could not fail to 
 spring up with the increase of inhabitants, and under 
 circumstances which allured, not only the enter- 
 prising, but the vicious of the parent States to settle 
 beyond the m.ountains, seems to have given origin to a 
 compact which was made occasionally among the more 
 sober of the male inhabitants of each district, by which 
 they assumed the power both of deciding upon the 
 crimes of individuals and of awarding punishment. 
 The regulators, as they were called, I have every rea- 
 son to believe, were an eminently useful race of men, 
 and, it may be maintained, in most instances just 
 withal; though it must be owned that the summary 
 
82 SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST. 
 
 mode in which cases were disposed of, and even capital 
 punishment administered without legal form, isaUttle 
 startling to the sticklers for fixed laws, judge, and 
 jury. As to religion, though many of the fathers of 
 Kentucky seem to have been very far from immoral 
 characters — their code seems to have been more that 
 of the Indian whom they dispossessed, divested of 
 gross superstition, than that of the Christian ; — and 
 for that matter, Indian religion is of far greater diffu- 
 sion through Christendom than might be imagined. 
 The fashionable religion of the day is neither more 
 nor less. Yet no sooner were families united, than a 
 call for something higher was heard. The want of a 
 more settled provision for the spiritual guidance and 
 instruction of the people, and their scattered position 
 over such a vast extent of surface, gave origin to 
 the ' Camp-meetings' of which you have doubtless 
 heard. That mode of engaging in social worship was 
 not only irreprehensible, but in every way praise- 
 worthy, considering the purpose for which it was in- 
 stituted, and the temper in which it was attended. 
 But it is with that as with every thing human ; and 
 what was good and perhaps necessary at the time, is 
 now, under a very different state of things, decidedly 
 bad in most cases. Instead of the simple gathering to- 
 gether of a number of families under the thick shade 
 of the forestj from every quarter of the compass, to one 
 common centre, to listen to the word of God, offer Him 
 their common supplication and thanksgiving, and have 
 the sacraments administered in sincerity and sobriety ; 
 you may now see, assembled under the same name, 
 and often in parts of the country where you w^ould 
 suppose that such a proceeding was wholly unneces- 
 sary, a crowd of thousands, most of whom, it may be 
 said, without being accused of uncharitableness, meet 
 for any purpose but that of devotion. Even the de- 
 votion that is seen in such assemblages, takes the air 
 of religious excitement ; and as to the rest, intrigue, 
 dissipation, electioneering, chaffering, and cheating, 
 hold their festival at the modern Camp-meeting. In 
 
THE OHIO. 
 
 83 
 
 fact, that arrangement as little suits the present settled 
 state of the country, as the system of the regulators 
 would. I need not tell you that these self-appointed 
 judges have long ago made way for men of worship 
 and learning, who show reason for their authority, 
 whatever they may do for their decisions. lam aware 
 however, that something akin to the regulators still 
 exists in certain out-of-the-way corners of the Missis- 
 sippi valley. 
 
 As to the fine race of backwoodsmen, of whom 
 Boone seems by common consent to have been con- 
 sidered the patriarch, they were evidently raised for 
 a special purpose, and that purpose accomplished, the 
 country was two narrow for them. 
 
 We see him, the battle fought, and the country 
 gained, entangled in the snares of war, driven from 
 that small portion of the rich heritage he and his 
 fellows had secured to his countrymen, which he 
 claimed as personal property, and in his old age, 
 disgusted with the forms and hollow nature of society, 
 once more shouldering his axe and rifle, turning his 
 back upon the thickly peopled region, and followed 
 by his wife, who, thirty years before, had been his 
 companion in his first removal, seeking an asylum in 
 the Far- West, beyond the Mississippi, where he died 
 full of years in 1818. 
 
 LETTER VIIL 
 
 I NOW resume the thread of our personal adventures. 
 Our stay at Cincinnati was only of two days' dura- 
 tion. We found the good citizens of that rising and 
 flourishing city busily ruminating over the first edition 
 of a well-known picture of their domestic manners, 
 which the English press had just sent forth for their 
 especial benefit. Whether the compote was justly 
 
84 THE OHIO. 
 
 and wisely compounded, I was in no way enabled to 
 judge at the time, but it was very evident from the wry 
 faces on all sides, and the aroused spirit of indignation, 
 that the bitter herbs predominated over the sweet. 
 For the rest, such was the crowded state of the only 
 large hotel in the place, two having been burnt in the 
 course of the spring, that we deemed ourselves fortu- 
 nate to fine a speedy opportunity of departure in one 
 of the splendid steamboats with which the landing 
 place was crowded. 
 
 Our next halting- pi ace was Louisville, another large 
 and thriving city, situated on the Kentucky shore, just 
 above the Falls of the Ohio. Its position on one of 
 the great bends of the river, with the islands and 
 rapids below, forms one of the most striking among 
 all the beautiful scenes with which the Ohio abounds. 
 Here we immediately took our passage for St. Louis 
 on the Mississippi, seven hundred miles distant, on 
 board another steamboat, but were ultimately de- 
 tained two or three days by some disarrangement in 
 the machinery. 
 
 The Ohio truly merits the title of 'La belle Rivere,^ 
 which was bestowed upon it by the first French set- 
 lers. Whether you see it from the summits of the little 
 bluflTs, through which it has delved a deep broad bed 
 in this upper part of its course, filling the vale with 
 its expanded waters, and laving the edge of those rich 
 patches of alluvial ground on w^hich the hand of man 
 has spread the sunshine of cultivation among the over- 
 shadowing woods, or from the deck of the floating 
 palace, which bears you with marvellous rapidity from 
 basin to basin, and point to point, it is always * the 
 beautiful river.' Its current, at the time we descended 
 it, was gentle, and comparatively clear, the waters 
 being very low. Yet six months earlier, the whole of 
 the valley of the Ohio, from Pittsburg to the Missis- 
 sippi, had been the theatre of such devastation and 
 distress, from the extraordinary floods, as to be almost 
 incredible to those who, like ourselves, only saw the 
 river flowing gently within its ordinary bounds. It 
 
THE OHIO. 
 
 85 
 
 was difficult to conceive, that such a wide broad bed, 
 sunk thirty or forty feet below the edge of the perpen- 
 dicular banks of the levels should ever be insufficient 
 to contain its water. But in the month of February of 
 this year, after the fall of excessive rains on the moun- 
 tains, at the head of the Alleghany river, the junction 
 of which with the Monongahela at Pittsburg forms the 
 Ohio, the waters rose foot by foot, and hour by hour, till 
 the whole country was inundated. The flood attained 
 its height at Pittsburg on the 11th, and at the Falls 
 on the 19th, moving at the rate of about one hundred 
 miles each day, and bearing forward the accumulated 
 produce of a thousand farms, mills, and villages. At 
 Cincinnati the waters rose sixty-four feet perpendicular 
 above low water mark. A still greater flood is on record 
 as having happened in the year 1772, before the set- 
 tling of the country, but none since. The fertility of 
 spring and summer had done much to remedy and con- 
 ceal the devastation caused by this terrible visitation, 
 yet many convincing signs remained of its power. 
 
 The time of our detention was as pleasantly spent 
 as circumstances admitted of, but we were anxious to 
 proceed, having much in prospect in another region 
 before the close of the year. The shallowness of the 
 water in the rapids not admitting the descent of even 
 the smaller steamboats, we were constrained to pass 
 through the newly constructed canal, which, by the 
 aid of three noble locks at the lower end, secures the 
 uninterrupted navigation of the entire river for vessels 
 of moderate burden, without the delay of unloading, 
 portage, and reloading, which was formerly necessary. 
 All obstacles overcome, we found ourselves once more 
 fairly afloat on the bosom of the river, and straightway 
 proceeded on our voyage. At the lower extremity of 
 the canal, and before the small towns in the immediate 
 vicinity, we left thirty or forty of the most splendid 
 steamers of the first class, waiting for a rise in the 
 water. 
 
 The changes which the successful adoption of navi- 
 gation by steam has operated in a very limited space 
 VOL. r. 8 
 
86 
 
 THE OHIO. 
 
 of time upon the face of the wide regions watered by 
 the Mississippi and its tributaries, are doubtless among 
 the most extraordinary ever achieved by human agency. 
 
 Many things combined to make the year 1811 the 
 annus miribilisof the West. During the earher months, 
 the waters of many of the great rivers overflowed 
 their banks to a vast extent, and the whole country 
 was in many parts covered from blufl" to bluff. Un- 
 precedented sickness followed. A spirit of change, and 
 a restlessness seemed to pervade the very inhabitants 
 of the forest. A countless multitude of squirrels, obey- 
 ing some great and universal impulse, which none can 
 know but the Spirit that gave them being, left their 
 reckless and gambolling life, and their ancient places 
 of retreat in the north, and were seen pressing forward 
 by tens of thousands in a deep and sober phalanx to 
 the south. No obstacles seemed to check this extra- 
 ordinary and concerted movement : the word had 
 been given them to go forth, and they obeyed it, 
 though multitudes perished in the broad Ohio, which 
 lay in their path. The splendid comet of that year 
 long continued to shed its twilight over the forests, 
 and, as the autumn drew to a close, the whole Valley 
 of the Mississippi, from the Missouri to the Gulf, was 
 shaken to its centre by continued earthquakes. It was 
 at this very epoch, in which so many natural phenomena 
 were combining to spread wonder and awe, that man, 
 too, in the exercise of that power with which his Cre- 
 ator has endowed him, was making his first essay in 
 that region, of an art, the natural course and further 
 perfection of which were destined to bring about yet 
 greater changes than those effected by the flood and 
 the earthquake ; and at the same time that the latter 
 were agitating the surface, the very first steamboat was 
 seen descending the great rivers, and the awe-struck 
 Indian on the banks beheld the Pinelore"^ flying 
 through the turbid waters. 
 
 From the time of the battle of the Miami, to which I 
 
 * The Choctaw name for the steamboat, literally * fire-canoe.' 
 
THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 87 
 
 alluded in my last, up to this epoch, the number of 
 inhabitants in Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio, and the 
 adjoining States, had gone on increasing with aston- 
 ishing rapidity, and swarms were pressing forward 
 from the new settlements even beyond the Mississippi. 
 The banks of the Ohio and its tributaries were covered 
 with innumerable farms ; and rafts, and flat-boats, 
 and barges of every description, laden with the pro- 
 duce, floated upon its wide surface, toward the general 
 market of the West, New Orleans. 
 
 Besides the barges and vessels of heavy burden, 
 which made their long annual voyage to and from that 
 city, the river was covered, particularly in time of 
 flood, by thousands of whimsical machines, for boats 
 they could hardly be called, most of which have now 
 disappeared. The greater part of these rude con- 
 structions were broken up, sold, or abandoned when 
 the end of the voyage was attained, and the produce 
 which they bore down to the general market disposed 
 of ; after which the settler returned to his farm, a thou- 
 sand or fifteen hundred miles oflT, as he could. From 
 seventy to eighty days were consumed in thus effecting 
 the long and monotonous voyage from Pittsburg to 
 New-Orleans. But now a change was to be wrought 
 in the facilities of communication between countries so 
 far apart, upon which no one could have calculated, 
 and the vast results of which are not yet fully devel- 
 oped. 
 
 Circumstances gave me the opportunity of becom- 
 ing acquainted with the particulars of the very first 
 voyage of a steamer in the west, and their extraordi- 
 nary character will be my apology to you for filling a 
 page of this sheet with the follo wing brief relation. 
 
 The complete success attending the experiments in 
 steam navigation made on the Hudson and the adjoin- 
 ing waters previous to the year 1809, turned the 
 attention of the principal projectors to the idea of its 
 application on the western rivers ; and in the month of 
 April of that year, Mr. Roosevelt of New York, pursu- 
 ant to an agreement with Chancellor Livingston and 
 
88 THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 
 
 Mr. Fulton, visited those rivers, with the purpose of 
 forming an opinion whether they admitted of steam 
 navigation or not. At this time two boats, the North 
 River and the Clermont, were running on the Hud- 
 son. Mr. R. surveyed the rivers from Pittsburg to 
 New-Orleans, and as his report was favourable, it was 
 decided to build a boat at the former town. This w^as 
 done under his direction, and in the course of 1811 
 the first boat was launched on the waters of the Ohio. 
 It was called the * New Orleans,' and intended to ply 
 between Natchez in the State of Mississippi, and the 
 city whose name it bore. In October it left Pittsburg 
 for its experimental voyage. On this occasion no 
 freight or passengers were taken, the object being 
 merely to bring the boat to her station. Mr. R., his 
 young wife and family, Mr. Baker the engineer, An- 
 drew Jack the pilot, and six hands, with a few domes- 
 tics, formed her whole burden. There were no wood- 
 yards at that time, and constant delays were unavoida- 
 ble. When, as related, Mr. R. had gone down the 
 river to reconnoitre, he had discovered two beds of 
 coal, about one hundred and twenty miles below the 
 Rapids at Louisville, and now took tools to work them, 
 intending to load the vessel with the coal, and to em- 
 ploy it as fuel, instead of constantly detaining the boat 
 while wood was procured from the banks. 
 
 Late at night on the fourth day after quitting Pitts- 
 burg, they arrived in safety at Louisville, having been 
 but seventy hours descending upward of seven hundred 
 miles. The novel appearance of the vessel, and the 
 fearful rapidity with which it made its passage over the 
 broad reaches of the river, excited a mixture of terror 
 and surprise among many of the settlers on the banks, 
 whom the rumour of such an invention had never 
 reached ; and it is related that on the unexpected arri- 
 val of the boat before Louisville, in the course of a fine 
 still moonlight night, the extraordinary sound which 
 filled the air as the pent-up steam was suffered to 
 escape from the valves on rounding to, produced a 
 general alarm, and multitudes in the town rose from 
 
THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 89 
 
 their beds to ascertain the cause. 1 have heard that 
 the general impression among the good Kentuckians 
 was, that the comet had fallen into the Ohio ; but this 
 does not rest upon the same foundation as the other 
 facts which I lay before you, and which, I may at 
 once say, I had directly from the lips of the parties 
 themselves. The small depth of water in the Rapids 
 prevented the boat from pursuing her voyage immedi- 
 ately ; and during the consequent detention of three 
 weeks in the upper part of the Ohio, several trips were 
 successfully made between Louisville and Cincinnati, 
 In fine, the waters rose, and in the course of the last 
 week in November, the voyage was resumed, the 
 depth of water barely admitting their passage. 
 
 When they arrived about five miles above the Yellow 
 Banks, they moored the boat opposite to the first vein 
 of coal, which was on the Indiana side, and had been 
 purchased in the interim of the State government. 
 They found a large quantity already quarried to their 
 hand, and conveyed to the shore by depredators who 
 had not found means to carry it oflT, and with this they 
 commenced loading the boat. While thus engaged, 
 our voyagers w^ere accosted in great alarm by the 
 squatters of the neighbourhood, who inquired if they 
 had not heard strange noises on the river and in the 
 woods in the course of the preceding day, and per- 
 ceived the shores shake — insisting that they had re- 
 peatedly felt the earth tremble. 
 
 Hitherto nothing extraordinary had been perceived. 
 The following day they pursued their monotonous 
 voyage in those vast solitudes. The weather was ob- 
 served to be oppressively hot ; the air misty, still, and 
 dull ; and though the sun was visible, like a glowing 
 ball of copper, his rays hardly shed more than a 
 mournful twilight on the surface of the water. Even- 
 ing drew nigh, and with it some indications of what 
 was passing around them became evident. And as they 
 sat on deck, they ever and anon heard a rushing sound 
 and violent splash, and saw large portions of the shore 
 tearing away from the land and falling into the river. 
 
 8* 
 
90 THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 
 
 It was, as my informant said, ' an awful day ; so still, 
 that you could have heard a pin drop on the deck/ 
 They spoke little, for every one on board appeared 
 thunderstruck. The comet had disappeared about 
 this time, which circumstance was noticed with awe 
 by the crew. 
 
 The second day after their leaving the Yellow Banks, 
 the sun rose over the forests the same dim ball of fire, 
 and the air was thick, dull, and oppressive as before. 
 The portentous signs of this terrible natural convulsion 
 continued and increased. The pilot, alarmed and con- 
 fused, affirmed that he was lost, as he found the chan- 
 nel everywhere altered ; and where he had hitherto 
 known deep water, there lay numberless trees with 
 their roots upward. The trees were seen waving and 
 nodding on the bank, without a wind ; but the adven- 
 turers had no choice but to continue their route. To- 
 w^ards evening they found themselves at a loss for a 
 place of shelter. They had usually brought to under 
 the shore, but everywhere they saw the high banks 
 disappearing, overwhelming many a flat-boat and raft, 
 from which the owners had landed and made their es- 
 cape. A large island in mid-channel, which was 
 selected by the pilot as the better alternative, was 
 sought for in vain, having disappeared entirely. Thus 
 in doubt and terror, they proceeded hour after hour 
 till dark, when they found a small island, and rounded 
 to, mooring themselves to the foot of it. Here they 
 lay, keeping watch on deck during the long autumnal 
 night — listening to the sound of the waters which 
 roared and gurgled horribly around them ; and hearing, 
 from time to time, the rushing earth slide from the 
 shore, and the commotion as the falling mass of earth 
 and trees was swallowed up by the river. The lady 
 of the party, a delicate female, who had just been con- 
 fined on board as they lay off Louisville, was fre- 
 quently awakened from her restless slumber by the jar 
 given to the furniture and loose articles in the cabin, 
 as, several times in the course of the night, the shock of 
 the passing earthquake was communicated from the 
 
THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 91 
 
 island to the bows of the vessel. It was a long night, 
 but morning dawned and showed them that they were 
 near the mouth of the Ohio. The shores and the 
 channel were now equally unrecognizable, for every 
 thing seemed changed. About noon that day they 
 reached the small town of New Madrid, on the right 
 bank of the Mississippi. Here they found the inha- 
 bitants in the greatest distress and consternation ; part 
 of the population had fled in terror to the higher 
 grounds, others prayed to be taken on board, as the 
 earth was opening in fissures on every side, and their 
 houses hourly falhng around them. 
 
 Proceeding from thence, they found the Mississippi, 
 at all times a fearful stream, now unusually swollen, 
 turbid and full of trees, and after many days of great 
 danger, though they felt and perceived no more of the 
 earthquakes, they reached their destination at Natchez, 
 at the close of the first week in January, 1812, to the 
 great astonishment of all, the escape of the boat hav- 
 ing been considered an impossibility. 
 
 At that time you floated for three or four hundred 
 miles on the rivers without seeing a human habitation. 
 
 Such was the voyage of the first steamer. The na- 
 tural convulsion, which commenced at the time of her 
 descent, has been but slightly alluded to, but will 
 never be forgotten in the history of the Vfest ; and the 
 changes wrought by it throughout the whole alluvial 
 region through which the Ohio and Mississippi pour 
 their waters, were perhaps as remarkable as any on 
 record. We hear less of its effects, because the region 
 in w^hich they occurred was of such vast extent and so 
 thinly peopled. That part of the alluvial country 
 which is contiguous to the point of junction of the 
 two rivers, and especially the vicinity of New Madrid, 
 seems to have been the centre of the convulsion. 
 There, during the years 1811 and 1812, the earth 
 broke into innumerable fissures, the church-yard, with 
 its dead, was torn from the bank, and engulfed in 
 the turbid stream. To the present day it would appear 
 that frequent slight shocks of earthquakes are there 
 
92 THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 
 
 felt ; and it is asserted that in the vast swamp at the 
 back of the town, strange sounds may at times be 
 heard, as of some mighty caldron bubbling in the 
 bowels of the earth. Along the banks of the river, 
 thousands of acres with their gigantic growth of forest 
 and cane were swallowed up, and lakes and ponds in- 
 numerable were formed. The earth, in many parts, 
 was observed to burst suddenly open, and jets of sand, 
 mud, and water, to shoot up into the air. The beds 
 of these giant streams seemed totally overturned ; 
 islands disappeared, and in many parts the course of 
 the river was completely changed. Great inunda- 
 tions were the consequence. The clear waters of the 
 St. Francis were obstructed ; the ancient channel de- 
 stroyed, and the river spread over a vast tract of 
 swamp. In many places the gaping earth unfolded its 
 secrets, and the bones of the gigantic Mastodon and 
 Ichthyosaurus, hidden within its bosom for ages, were 
 brought to the surface. Boats and arks without num- 
 ber, were swallowed up ; some buried by the falling 
 in of the banks, others dragged down with the islands 
 to which they were anchored. And finally, you may 
 still meet and converse with those, who were on the 
 mighty river of the West when the whole stream ran 
 towards its sources for an entire hour, and then re- 
 suming its ordinary course, hurried them helpless into 
 its whirling surface with accelerated motion toward 
 the Gulf. 
 
 Six days were now employed by the steamboat on 
 which we had embarked in reaching St. Louis. For 
 many miles below the rapids, the river scenery con- 
 tinued fine but monotonous : the shores were often 
 hilly and always forested, but never rose to any pro- 
 minent outline : while every object on the banks v^as 
 diminished to the eye by the vast breadth of the stream. 
 The lowness of the water, the great changes effected 
 in the channel by the spring floods, and occasionally 
 morning mists, all conspired to interpose impediments 
 to a very continuous progress. Besides, the boat we 
 were in was only a third-rate. However, there was 
 
THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 93 
 
 SO much novelty in our position, that we bore all the 
 misfortunes that fell to our lot with equanimity and 
 fortitude, as became gentlemen ' travelling for pleasure 
 and instruction/ We used to sit for hours in a little 
 group on the high roof of the cabins, far removed 
 from the heat of the fires and the boilers, the chatter 
 of the passengers, or the jar of the engine ; while the 
 lapse of each second was marked by the sonorous rush 
 of the white puff of steam from the pipe above our 
 heads. Each little settlement we passed had its own 
 peculiar interest, and each tributary stream no less — 
 and there were scenes incident to the river which were 
 always pleasing. The frequent landing-places, over- 
 shadowed by fine aged sycamores ; the relics of an- 
 cient and whimsical craft still met with here and there 
 — now a square, or oblong box, floating along with the 
 current, with the outline and the party-coloured vest- 
 ments hung upon the shaft of the rudder or brightly 
 reflected on the water ; — then the broad-horn of an 
 emigrant family, lying in some sheltered cove, while 
 the heterogeneous crew of all ages and colours was 
 passing an hour of activity and relaxation on shore. 
 
 Though greatly diminished in number you still meet 
 with many an ark, for the transport of goods, built as 
 a broad flat-boat with a deck of two or three feet 
 elevation above the level of the water. They have 
 generally a small w^mdow fore and aft, and a door in 
 the middle, a peep into which will show you a goodly 
 store of pots, pans, or flour barrels. A narrow ledge 
 runs round them for the convenience of poleing. A 
 small chimney rises above; raccoon and deer-skins, 
 the produce of the hours spent on shore, are nailed on 
 the sides to dry. The larger are generally propelled 
 by four oars, and I have occasionally seen them sur- 
 mounted by a crooked mast and topmast. Here you 
 will meet with one fitted up as a floating tin-shop, 
 gleaning many a bright dollar from the settlers. Others 
 again are of a still more simple construction, and have 
 merely a temporary deck supported upon rails, through 
 
94 THE FIRST STEAMBOAT IN THE WEST. 
 
 which the sheep and other live stock may be descried. 
 Hay for their consumption will be piled above, and 
 cabbages stowed away in the compartment behind. 
 
 Of the large barge, upon which the greater part of 
 the valuable goods in request on the river were for- 
 merly transported, few are now seen in the lower 
 waters. They required twenty hands to warp them 
 up against the current at the rate of six or seven miles 
 a day, and were frequently of one hundred tons burden. 
 The lighter keel-boat is still in use. 
 
 Farming seemed to be mere pastime, — the seed 
 thrown upon the soil producing a thousand-fold with 
 but little attention and labour, while the forest nou- 
 rishes the cattle and swine of the backwoodsman with- 
 out the expenditure of a cent. 
 
 On the earlier part of the voyage, occasional halts 
 at the wood-yards were agreeable to all, as affording 
 an opportunity for a half-hour's stroll : but when we 
 descended below the Wabash, our opportunities of 
 going on shore became a little too frequent. The high 
 wooded bluffs ceased to border the stream after we 
 had advanced one hundred miles below Louisville ; and 
 we were now following the river as it flowed in an ex- 
 panded bed through that rich alluvial region in which 
 it mingles its waters with those of the Mississippi. 
 The villages were farther apart, though we seldom 
 paddled many miles without descrying the tops of 
 Indian corn, and the fences, roofs, and smoking chim- 
 neys of some backwood settlement. 
 
 The ' Illinois' was certainly not a fortunate boat, in 
 spite of the horse-shoe nailed to the capstan. After 
 many scrapings and bumps upon the sand-bars and 
 shoals with which at low water the Ohio is becoming 
 more and more impeded, from the vast quantity of 
 alluvion washed down into it since the partial clearing 
 of the forests, it was our lot, somewhere above the re- 
 markable cavern called the ' Cave in Rock,' to share the 
 fortune of two other steamers, and get so irreparably 
 shoaled about sunset, that after many hours spent in 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 95 
 
 attempting to extricate ourselves, by carrying out 
 anchor after anchor, the use of the lever, and furious 
 press of steam, it w^as decided, th^t whether the pros- 
 pect were agreeable or not, the vessel must be partially 
 unloaded, and for this purpose lighters were procured 
 from the nearest settlement. After a glorious moon- 
 light night, finding that many hours must elapse before 
 there was any possibility of moving, we went a shore, 
 and passed the morning in the forests of Illinois ; and 
 it was not till after a detention of twenty-four hours 
 that w^e got in motion again. Two more serious de- 
 tentions, from a like cause, occurred at the mouths of 
 the Cumberland and Tennessee rivers, after which we 
 finally reached the mouth of the Ohio on the night be- 
 tween the 10th and 11th of September, and entered 
 the ' Father of Waters.' 
 
 Our progress was now proportionably slow ; that 
 mighty river pouring dow^nward toward the Gulf, a 
 turbid and rapid torrent, in spite of its great breadth, 
 and the low state of its waters. 
 
 By God's providence we escaped all the perils of 
 the navigation, whether in the shape of sawyers, snags, 
 planters, or sand-banks, — also a more sudden and un- 
 pleasant peril, from having been run foul of by a de- 
 scending steamboat in the night, without, however, 
 suffering much injury, and arrived safe at St. Louis on 
 the morning of the 13th. 
 
 1 have found two reasons for hurrying over the de- 
 tails of much of our proceedings hitherto. The diffi- 
 culty of a choice among a mass of recollections and 
 materials, which, however interesting, might not be 
 altogether novel, may pass for the first ; and as to the 
 second, we have not yet done with the West, and 
 opportunity and humour may be found at some future 
 time for the introduction of such entertaining informa- 
 tion as I have hitherto held back. I might give you 
 twenty more reasons, and wind up by saying, that I 
 have had neither time nor patience, which would 
 remind you of the forty reasons given by a notorious 
 gentleman why he did not make a certain purchase, 
 
96 
 
 ST. LOUIS. 
 
 the last of which was — that he had no money ; or what 
 may be considered more pertinent, of the many rea- 
 sons, philosophical, physiological, zoological, and osteo- 
 logical, said to have been given by Mr. Peale of the 
 Philadelphia Museum, why, in opposition to the opin- 
 ion of the learned, the great tusks of the enormous 
 fossil mastodon appeared therein with their points 
 turned down ; the last of which was, that the ceiling 
 of the said museum was not lofty enough for him to 
 place them with the points up. 
 
 I must also procrastinate with regard to St. Louis, 
 for upon our arrival there the commissioner found 
 that he had been long expected by several of the gen- 
 tlemen more or less connected with his purpose of 
 repairing to the westward ; and with the exception of 
 a morning which was set apart for a visit to Jefferson 
 Barracks, to see the Indian Chief, Black Hawk, every 
 hour of our brief stay was fully taken up with a variety 
 of arrangements and preparations. By the defeat of 
 the Indians at the Bad Axe river, and the capture of 
 Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak, and his sons, together with 
 the Prophet and other Chiefs, the war carried on by the 
 tribes of the Sauks and Foxes with the borderers of Illi- 
 nois had been shortly before terminated. The Chief 
 and his party were then in prison, and though kindly 
 treated by his victor, he was an object of interest and 
 pity to us. The fine old warrior was then seemingly 
 near his end, and drooped like the bird whose name 
 he bore, when caged and imprisoned. Little did I 
 then think that six months after I should see him alive 
 and in freedom, on his * progress' through the Atlantic 
 cities after being set at liberty, — wondering at all, and 
 wondered at by all. 
 
 Too many friends and advisers we found to be pro- 
 ductive of great embarrassment, and after much, and 
 to us most unnecessary palaver, it was finally deter- 
 mined that each should travel as it best suited his con- 
 venience or fancy, to another point of rendezvous up 
 the Missouri, namely, the small frontier settlement of 
 Independence, three hundred miles ofT. This was to 
 
ST. CHARLES. 
 
 97 
 
 be our ultimate point of union before turning south 
 into the country occupied by the Osages and other 
 Indian tribes. Colonel C. who had joined us here as 
 our guide to the main seat of the commission at Fort 
 Gibson, made choice of his own mode and time of 
 travelling with his domestics. The Commissioner 
 with a medical gentleman attached to the party, decided 
 to wait for a steam-boat which was expected to leave 
 St. Louis for the Missouri in a few days ; and as for 
 Mr. Irving, de Pourtales and myself, we at once deter- 
 mined to purchase horses and a light wagon to trans- 
 port our baggage, and travel as a trio, as heretofore, 
 by easy day's journeys to the place of rendezvous. 
 Accordingly we furnished ourselves from the American 
 Fur Company's stores, wilh bear-skins and blankets — 
 after endless trouble procured horses, and pronounced 
 ourselves ready to start. We had secured the services 
 of a French creole, accustomed to the country and 
 mode of travelling, who was to serve us in the several 
 capacities of guide, groom, driver, valet, cook, inter- 
 preter, hunter, and jack-of-all-trades ; and as he be- 
 came consequently a prominent character, you shall 
 not have to complain of his being kept in the back- 
 ground. 
 
 There are always some last words to be spoken, and 
 some last things to be done at every departure of con- 
 sequence. So it was with us, and as soon as one hole 
 was patched up another was found ; the horses had to 
 be shod when they ought to have been on the road ; 
 and the wagon, though according to the custom of the 
 times, w^arranted in good repair by the veracious 
 seller, was no sooner put in motion, than it had to be 
 mended by the purchaser. At length, on the evening 
 of the 15th, we got fairly en route, and travelled about 
 twelve miles over a horrible road to the Missouri, op- 
 posite St. Charles, where we found a shelter for the 
 night in a little French inn, which, with its odd diminu- 
 tive bowling-green, skittle-ground, garden-plots, and 
 arbours to booze in, reminded us more of the Old 
 World than any thing we had seen for many weeks. 
 
 VOL. !• 9 
 
98 
 
 STATE OF MISSOUEL 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 The following nine days were spent by m In 
 steadily travelling westward, toward the place of ren- 
 dezvous, through a country but sparingly inhabited by 
 emigrants from the older states. 
 
 Previous to our departure from St. Louis, we had 
 only just caught a glimpse of the face of our future 
 guide and attendant, Antoine, or Tonish, as he was 
 called by his familiar acquaintance. After his services 
 were secured, he pleaded sundry indispensable prepara- 
 tions, and the natural desire to take leave of his family, 
 for his immediate departure for the small village of 
 Florissant, promising faithfully to meet us on the banks 
 of the Missouri, opposite St. Charles, at daybreak the 
 following morning. But it was not till after passing 
 hour after hour at the little French auberge, to which 
 I brought you at the conclusion of my last, in vain ex- 
 pectation of seeing him arrive with a horse which we 
 had agreed to purchase of him, upon strong recom- 
 mendations from impartial people, who knew his super- 
 excellent qualities, and testified to his being an 
 undaunted buffalo-hunter, — and finally losing all pa- 
 tience, we had crossed the river about noon, that 
 Tonish made his appearance, fully equipped, and gave 
 us the first specimen of that dexterous effrontery with 
 which we became at a later period extremely familiar. 
 However, our party was now complete, and turning 
 through the outskirts of St. Charles, we struck into 
 the western road and pursued our journey ; Tonish 
 having charge of the wagon which held our small 
 stock of necessaries ; by which arrangement the three 
 travellers were left at perfect liberty to saunter, halt, 
 hunt, or do what they would. The tent, blankets, and 
 skins, which formed the main bulk of our baggage, 
 were of no use to us in this earlier stage of our autum- 
 nal tour, as up to the point of rendezvous at Indepen- 
 
STATE OF MISSOURI. 
 
 99 
 
 dence, we found that we might always depend upon 
 reaching one or another of the scattered farms, both at 
 the approach of night, and our noon-tide halt. Upon 
 an average, we advanced about thirty miles a day, 
 which was as much as our steeds, — which, to tell you 
 the honest truth, were none of the best,— could well 
 achieve, and a few general sketches of our journey 
 may suffice. 
 
 Our route for the first week led us wide of the river, 
 over an undulating country, the lower parts of which 
 were thickly covered with forest, and the upper spread 
 out into open prairie. Over these the decline of 
 the year was beginning to shed those gorgeous 
 and brilliant hues, which none can fancy or form 
 an idea of, but those who have beheld them. 
 The forests were fine, but not to be compared with 
 the gigantic growth of those on the Ohio. I confess 
 chat at this time, their frequent interchange with the 
 prairie was always welcome, as, after the novelty af^ 
 forded by the peculiar character of the scenery of the 
 latter had passed away, its monotonous, unvarying 
 outline and bright colours were alike fatiguing to the 
 eye and the fancy. We had not then conceived that 
 admiration for this great feature of the West, which we 
 afterward did : indeed, we had not, during this early- 
 period of our western travels, any conception of the 
 great variety and sublimity of the scenes, which they 
 elsewhere exhibited. 
 
 We had every reason to admire the hearty hospitality 
 of those, upon whose kindness and attention we were 
 dail}^ cast for entertainment and shelter. As the con- 
 stitution of Missouri sanctions the possession of slaves, 
 it was a matter of course that the settlers were for the 
 most part adventurers from the central and southern 
 states of the Union, and principally Kentucky and 
 Tennessee, and that in their buildings and family 
 arrangements, they should imitate those of their fathers. 
 The farms were ordinarily reclaimed from the forest, 
 that being the richest soil. The dwelling-house usual- 
 ly appeared built substantially of round or square logs, 
 
100 
 
 STATE OF MISSOURI. 
 
 all the interstices being neatly filled with white plaster^ 
 and they presented two quadrangular apartments, dis- 
 tinct from each other, with a wide open space in the 
 centre, all covered by one common roof. In the better 
 farms, one of the rooms was set apart for guests, and 
 was clean, and furnished with three or four beds. The 
 central division of the dwelling formed the ordinary 
 sitting apartment of the family, and from its being open 
 at both ends, was a pleasant cool retreat. As is the 
 invariable custom of the southern states, the kitchen 
 premises were in separate log-huts in the rear, the 
 whole clearing being surrounded by a zigzag fence of 
 chesnut rails, beyond which might be seen many an 
 acre of tall Indian corn, rising under the girdled trees 
 of the forest. Here the settler apparently lived in 
 peace and plenty ; cattle, swine, poultry, being abun- 
 dant, and costing little or no toil or expense in raisings 
 and that was indeed a poor farm which did not enable 
 the good woman, with half an hour's notice, to spread 
 before her guests a plentiful meal of ham, fried chicken^ 
 eggs, milk, honey, delicious butter, boiled maize, and 
 hot wheaten bread. For the rest, venison and turkeys 
 were plentiful in the w^oods, besides innumerable squir- 
 rels, upon which we made war as we rode along. 
 
 There was one thing, however, connected with our 
 daily repasts, which gave us some concern. The 
 moment we signified our wish to be provided with a 
 meal, was an evil one for the poultry ; for as the ar- 
 rival of travellers, though not an uncommon, was a very 
 uncertain event, ever}^ preparation for their entertain- 
 ment, even that of catching and killing the birds, had 
 to be performed after arrival. The consequence was, 
 that as soon as the black Clorinda, or blacker Juno, in 
 the kitchen, received her orders, a strong detachment of 
 the little woolly-headed urchins of every hue, who 
 swarmed like musquitoes in this land of corn-bread and 
 pumpkins, was upon the alert to secure two or three of 
 the long yellow-legged cacklers within the fence. They 
 were generally aided by a big dog, and not unfrequently 
 backed by one of those noisy^ garrulous, busy old ne- 
 
STATE OF MISSOURI. 
 
 101 
 
 groes, who are to be met with every where, as privileg- 
 ed inmates of the family, in consequence of having 
 known and cared for the master or mistress when a 
 child, and followed his or her fortunes from the old 
 states. The scene of confusion and the uproar con- 
 sequent upon this hunt were indescribably ludicrous ; 
 although we had not yet become savage enough to 
 gaze, without some qualms of pity and sympathy, upon 
 these fugitive portions of our breakfast or supper, as 
 they scudded from one corner to another, followed by 
 a flight of missiles, or the nimble fingers of the grin- 
 ning children. The devoted birds after flying here and 
 there, would often as a last resort get under the house 
 — the flooring being generally raised upon stones or 
 logs about a foot from the ground — but no place was 
 safe, for there the dogs would ferret them out, and it 
 was really a relief to hear that they were relieved from 
 their misery and terror. 
 
 The expectation of this scene often damped our 
 ardour, while advancing cheerily through the forest to 
 the place where we were to break our long fast : and 
 we used to fancy, that, from the poultry having become 
 aware by long experience of the fearful perils conse- 
 quent upon the arrival of hungry travellers, we could 
 sometimes, when just in sight of the farm, spy the whole 
 flock, cocks, hens, and chickens, scudding ofl' in a 
 crowd as quietly as might be, into the tall maize-field, 
 or among the brushwood. Our sleeping quarters were 
 frequently of the roughest description, but we travelled 
 merrily and happily together day by day, and were 
 conscious that we had yet rougher living before us. 
 
 As we proceeded, we began to observe many things 
 which were new to us, such as the large flights of par- 
 roquets, frequent salt springs, and a sensible change in 
 the productions of the forest- Among these the papaw 
 tree, with its heavy luscious fruit, was the greatest 
 curiosity. 
 
 The fourth day we crossed the * Thirty Mile Prairie,' 
 and on the fifth, passing almost wholly through inter- 
 minable forests, reached the town of Franklin, near 
 
 9^ 
 
102 
 
 STATE OF MISSOURL 
 
 the Missouri. We here made a diversion from the 
 usual road to Boone's-Lick, a large and productive 
 salt spring, discovered many years ago by old Daniel 
 Boone. Here he was accustomed to repair in his old 
 age, when his strength would no longer bear him 
 through the fatigues of the chase, to lie in wait, and 
 shoot the deer as they approached near the spring. 
 The Missouri was subsequently crossed at Arrow 
 • Rock Ferry, and our line of route than lay wholly to 
 the south of the river. 
 
 I recollect with delight our escape from a hot and 
 crowded log-cabin, where we had been compelled to halt 
 after dark and pass a restless night, and the following 
 morning's ride over the open pfairies. 
 
 I should despair of being able to convey any idea to 
 yaur mind of the glories of the autumnal Flora, cov- 
 ering these immense natural meadows, like a rich 
 carpet. God has here, with prodigal hand, scattered 
 the seeds of thousands of beautiful plants, each suited 
 to its season, where there are no hands to pluck, and 
 but few eyes to admire. After the early grass ol the 
 spring begins to shoot up through the blackened sur- 
 face of the scorched soil, it becomes spangled with a 
 host of flowers, the prevailing colours of which are 
 white and blue. These, as summer advances, give 
 place to a race in which red predominates : and when 
 the yellow suns of autumn incline over the west, their 
 mild rays are greeted by the appearance of millions of 
 yellow flowers, which, far statelier and of ranker 
 growth than their predecessors, rise over their ruins, 
 and seem to clothe the undulating surface of the prairie 
 with a cloth of gold. The great predominance and 
 variety of the lieliotrojye and solidago species, give 
 this tint to the landscape, while at the same time there 
 are many showy and beautiful plants, products of the 
 same season, of less glaring colours. Such are the 
 asters^ from the large and beautiful species which dis- 
 plays its rich clusters of blue and purple flowers in the 
 brake, to the small delicately-leaved varieties seen on 
 the more open grounds. You observe whole districts 
 
STATE OF MISSOURI. 
 
 103 
 
 covered with the tall and striking flowers of the red or 
 white eiipatorium, and every where among tlie long 
 grass, the liatris, or rattlesnake's-master, shoots np, 
 and displays its spike of red flowers. Then there are 
 the exquisite varieties of the gentiana with their deep 
 blue, and a thousand other flowers which I cannot un- 
 dertake to describe. At this season, the dwarf sumac, 
 in hollows and on such parts of the prairie as have 
 remained untouched by the autumnal fires, becomes a 
 striking feature of the open grounds from the blood- 
 red hue of its leaves and fructification. 
 
 The greater part of the road to Lexington, after 
 trav^ersing the river, layover wide prairies. 
 
 When we were within a few miles of that town we 
 met the long train of trappers, which annually crosses 
 the great western desert toward New Mexico, return- 
 ing from the Rocky Mountains and Santa Fe ; their 
 mules laden with the skins for which they had dared 
 that long and perilous pilgrimage. They were about 
 seventy in number; men worn with toil and travel, 
 bearing in their garb and on their persons evident 
 marks of the adventurous passage of those immense 
 prairies which lie to the westward. Seven of their 
 number had fallen in combat with the Indians on their 
 return. These expeditions, however, hold out the ex- 
 pectation of such enormous profit, that adventurers are 
 never wanting to fill the ranks. 
 
 Having heard nothing of the steam-boat, we were 
 not surprised on our arrival at Independence on the 
 afternoon of the 24th, to find that we were the first at 
 the place of rendezvous. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 Three days yet elapsed before the members of our 
 party were all assembled. The Colonel arrived the 
 
104 
 
 INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 evening of the same day with ourselves, but the Com- 
 missioner and Doctor proved themselves the laggards 
 of the party, and did not join us till the close of the 
 third. They had met with ' moving accidents by flood 
 and field.' You may remember they had resolved to 
 ascend the Missouri in a steam-boat, and loss of both 
 time and patience was the consequence. The waters 
 of this mighty river were low ; they stranded again 
 and again, and finally had been obliged to leave the 
 boat aground, about one hundred miles below Inde- 
 pendence, and get forward through the woods as they 
 might. Judging from the querulous tone which per- 
 vaded their remarks, we concluded that the journey 
 had been far from agreeable. 
 
 However, such misfortunes are soon forgotten, and 
 finding that we had not been idle in the interval, but 
 had got pretty well advanced with the variety of new 
 arrangements deemed necessary, it was resolved to 
 prosecute our journey into the Indian country without 
 delay. 
 
 But before we quit Independence, a few remarks 
 upon our pr^iceedings and occupations while there may 
 be acceptable. 
 
 The town of Independence was full of promise, like 
 most of the innumerable towns springing up in the 
 midst of the forests in the West, many of \Yhich, though 
 dignified by high-sounding epithets, consist of nothing 
 but a ragged congeries of five or six rough log huts, 
 two or three clapboard houses, two or three so-called 
 hotels, alias grogshops ; a few stores, a bank, printing 
 office, and barn-looking church. It lacked at the time 
 I commemorate, the three last edifices, but was never- 
 theless a thriving and aspiring place, in its way ; and 
 the fortune made here already in the course of its brief 
 existence, by a bold Yankee shopkeeper who had sold 
 sixty thousand dollars' worth of goods here in three 
 years, was a matter of equal notoriety, surprise, and 
 envy. It is situated about twenty miles east of the 
 Kansas river, and three south of the Missouri, and was 
 consequently very near the extreme western frontier of 
 
INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 105 
 
 the state. A little beyond this point, all carriage 
 roads ceased, and one deep black trail alone, which 
 might be seen tending to the south-west, was that of 
 the Santa Fe trappers and traders. 
 
 I have felt a momentary temptation to give you a 
 sketch of a deer hunt, in which we were engaged with 
 a number of the sporting inhabitants of the settlement, 
 but recollecting that, though very animated and ex- 
 citing, it was unsuccessful, and that we have more 
 hunting in prospect, I will let it pass. 
 
 It is advantageous to feel that you are a philosopher, 
 even though you may be a sportsman, and that, 
 whether your position be that of a solitary individual, 
 strolling for hours with his gun, or the member of a 
 party, the excitement is reward enough. As to myself, 
 whether I return laden or empty-handed, 1 alwa^^s 
 return gratified. 
 
 On the morning of one of the days spent liere in 
 expectation of our friends' arrival, — mounted on Methu- 
 selah, an old white horse of the innkeepw's, and fol- 
 lowed by a ragged water-dog, called Cash, I left my 
 comrades and our horses to their repose at the town, 
 partly for a morning's pigeon shooting, and partly 
 with the purpose of going down to the ferry on the 
 Missouri, to inquire if any intelligence had come up 
 the river with reference to the expected steam-boat. 
 
 After missing the path, and an hour's rough scram- 
 ble in the thick forest, during which I found means to 
 insinuate my steed, gun, and person, through many a 
 tangled jungle of rope-vine, brush, and creeper, much 
 to my own astonishment and that of the grave old 
 quadruped which I bestrode, I descended the bluft^ 
 which here rises precipitously from the bank of the 
 Missouri, and reached the ferry. 1 met with no intel- 
 ligence, but with an acquaintance from the town above, 
 who proposed to me that we should ride together six or 
 seven miles down the river, and call upon one of his 
 friends, whose 'clearing' was situated at a point where 
 the current is unusually narrow, and of difficult navi^ 
 gation. To this I readily accededj as it would give 
 
106 
 
 THE MISSOURI. 
 
 me a better opportunity of observing the phenomena 
 connected with this stupendous stream, than any I had 
 hitherto enjoyed. Though, geographically considered, 
 1 believe Mr. Flint is right in insisting upon the claim 
 of the Mississippi to be considered the main river of 
 the western region, in spite of its inferiority of length, 
 yet, considered as a river, without reference to the 
 peculiar geological formation of the continent through 
 which it flows, there is no doubt of the pre-eminence of 
 the Missouri. 
 
 The * Father of Waters,' with his clear bright ex- 
 panse and gentle current, is, in fact, swallowed up in 
 the turbid and boiling volume of the * Mother of 
 Floods,' as she comes rushing in at right angles, 
 upon the central valley, a few miles above St. Louis ; 
 and though it must be allowed that the southerly 
 course of the Mississippi is preserved even after the 
 point of junction, and the breadth of the latter is three 
 times that of its mighty tributary — yet the attributes of 
 the Lower ^Mississippi are in fact those of the Mis- 
 souri. 
 
 No European can form an adequate idea of either 
 of these great rivers, expanded like lakes, while their 
 waters are seen rushing forward through the rich for- 
 ested country like mountain torrents, tearing down the 
 banks, changing their beds, and from their turbid 
 colour, and the quantity of mud and slime with which 
 they are heavily charged, having all the appearance 
 of rivers in a state of extraordinary flood : — 3^et so 
 they have boiled on from year to year, and from age 
 to age. 
 
 The turbid character of the waters of the Missouri 
 has been frequently attributed to the volumes of earth 
 and sand brought into it by the Yellow Stone, one of 
 its largest tributaries ; but it is ascertained to have the 
 same character to the very gates of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, where it comes rushing through deep and per- 
 pendicularly walled defiles toward the great plains ; 
 and the fact seems to be established, that in those dis- 
 tant regions the unprotected surface of the earth is 
 
THE MISSOURI. 
 
 107 
 
 undergoing a gradual change, and is gradually being 
 washed down by the action of the rains and ten thou- 
 sand streams. 
 
 There are phenomena connected with the Missouri, 
 and indeed all the great western rivers, which would 
 appear at first consideration almost inexplicable. 
 Among these, none is more remarkable than that pre- 
 sented by the comparatively small volume of water 
 which they appear to contain at the points where they 
 disembogue themselves, after a course of thousands of 
 miles in length, and the reception of so many tributary 
 waters. Take the facts connected with the Missouri* 
 At the Mandan villages, two thousand miles from its 
 sources, and sixteen hundred from the Mississippi, it is 
 said to be as deep and as wide as at St. Charles, a few 
 miles above its mouth. Yet within these points it re- 
 ceives a number of large tributaries, among which we 
 may name the Platte and the Kansas rivers, the former 
 of which brings down from a computed course of two 
 thousand miles, a volume of water as large as that of 
 the Missouri itself. River after river pours in its 
 floods ; yet however great, they appear to produce no 
 effect on the main stream. Various causes are alleged 
 in explanation of this, besides that of great evaporation. 
 The whole bed of the Missouri appears to be a loose 
 shifting sand, through which vast quantities of water 
 are supposed to filter. Farther, it is urged, that the 
 wide alluvial tracts, in connection with the river, are 
 based on a porous soil of sand and loam, which absorbs 
 much of its volume ; conveying large portions into the 
 main valley of the Mississippi by subterraneous chan- 
 nels. In the same way it may be argued that the small 
 quantity of water visibly entering the Gulf by the Mis- 
 sissippi, may be accounted for, by the quantity drawn 
 into that great general reservoir, by many concealed 
 drains of the same character. 
 
 The upward navigation of the Missouri by ordinary 
 boats may be conceived to have been always a most per- 
 ilous and arduous task, and even since the introduction 
 of steam-boats, it is found more uncertain and hazardous 
 
108 
 
 THE MISSOURI. 
 
 than that of any other western river. The vast length 
 of its tributaries, and the distance of its sources, render 
 it liable to frequent floods, of which three are always 
 confidently looked forward to at certain intervals in the 
 course of every year. The first rise that takes place is 
 in the early spring, when the lower tributaries give 
 forth their surplus waters in concert with the Upper 
 Mississippi and her northern tributaries. A month 
 later the Platte and other streams rising in the spurs of 
 the Rocky Mountains, send their tribute to the east- 
 ward ; and the greatest and most regular rise takes 
 place in the course of June, when the accumulated 
 snows on the Rocky Mountains yield to the influence 
 of the sun, and the floods come pouring down from the 
 ' head-waters ' of the main river, over the Great Falls, 
 and joining those from the Yellow Stone, they swell 
 the torrent, flowing through fifteen hundred miles 
 of prairie, and advance day by day, till they gain 
 the frontier of Missouri, and finally pour into the Mis- 
 sissippi. The rise of water in the latter river, at this 
 time at St. Louis, is generally between five and fifteen 
 feet. 
 
 During this latter period of flood, the navigation of 
 the river, by steam, is safe and uninterrupted ; and the 
 American Fur Company's steamer, the ' Yellow Stone,' 
 takes advantage of it to make its yearly trip to their 
 factory at the mouth of the river of that name, eighteen 
 hundred miles from the Mississippi. The duration of 
 the voyage has ordinarily been from eight to ten weeks 
 in ascending, and ten to fifteen days in returning.*' 
 
 It is impossible to note the facts which I have just 
 alluded to, with regard to the distinct periods at which 
 the waters from the several streams connected with 
 both the Missouri and Mississippi are poured into the 
 great valley of the west, without being struck with the 
 great and compassionate providence of God, which by 
 
 * In the summer of 1831, the ' Yellow Stone ' ascended the Missouri, 
 1400 miles, but could not reach its destination. In 1832, they were 
 more successful, and reached the factory, and in 1833, succeeded in 
 ascending yet 300 miles farther, being 2100 miles from the mouth. 
 
THE CLEARING. 
 
 109 
 
 SO dispersing the rivers which drain tliat vast extent of 
 open country, over such various degrees of latitude, 
 secures the valley from the yearly visitation of an over- 
 whelming deluge. If all these mighty rivers were so 
 situated, by similarity of length and position, as to 
 break up simultaneously, there is no doubt that the 
 whole of the extended region, occupied by the alluvial 
 lands, would be uninhabitable. But the deep snows 
 of the Alleghany have sent their tribute to the ocean 
 by the Ohio, before the icy chains which bind the 
 waters of the Upper Mississippi are loosed ; and the 
 floods caused by these and the lower waters and tri- 
 butaries of the Missouri and Mississippi have subsided 
 many days, before the streams of the great Western 
 Chain can, from their vast distance, arrive with their 
 contribution. 
 
 Resuming my narrative : Having rounded a noble 
 and expanded bend of the river, in about an hour's 
 time, we heard by the barking of dogs, and the chat- 
 tering of many voices, that we were approaching the 
 farm in question. The tall leafless boughs of a few 
 girdled trees then appeared, and as we entered the 
 opening on the bank of the river, we descried the 
 rough log huts forming the usual habitation of a 
 squatter or backwoodsman. From the prominent 
 appearance of a long table covered with dinner appa- 
 ratus, which appeared arranged in the open air, a few 
 steps from the door, a number of dogs whining and 
 snuffing around it, and the unusual bustle among the 
 negro dependants toiling about a small fire in advance, 
 we suspected that something extraordinary was going 
 on. A young negro took our horses with that affecta- 
 tion of extreme politeness and good breeding, which is 
 so highly amusing in many of his colour, and which 
 inclines me to think that they appreciate the character 
 of a ' fine gentleman,' more than any other part of the 
 community. The principal log hut was built on a 
 little level, halfway up the steep bank impending over 
 the swift and turbid river below. In immediate prox- 
 imity to it, I noticed the broad, solid stump of a mag- 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
110 
 
 THE CLEARING. 
 
 nificent oak, which had been just felled, and lay pros- 
 trate, with his crown of foliage hanging over the blufi; 
 a piece of labour which appeared to me so gratuitously 
 unnecessary and wanton, that I could not avoid making 
 a remark expressive of my regret, as its position was 
 not only picturesque, but, I should have thought, of 
 real utility to the huts under its shade. The reason 
 given was characteristic, amounting to this, that it 
 might one day fall on the dwelling. 
 
 We were met by the settler with the frank uncere- 
 monious bearing of his race. He informed us that his 
 wife had got a number of her neighbours with her for 
 a 'quilting frolic,' and made us heartily welcome. The 
 interior of the log hut presented a similar scene. A 
 square table was seen to occupy a great part of its 
 floor. It was surrounded by a compact body of 
 females, whose fingers were occupied with all diligence 
 upon the quilt which lay stretched out before them, and 
 which, though neither the smartest nor costliest, pro- 
 mised, judging from the quantity of cotton or wool 
 which I saw stuffed into its inside, and the close 
 lozenge-shaped compartments into which the latter was 
 confined by rapid and successful gobble-stitching,- — to 
 be of real utility and comfort, during the coming 
 winter, to the matron who presided. A life in the 
 woods teaches many lessons, and this among the rest, 
 that you must both give assistance to your neighbour, 
 and receive it in return, without either grudging or 
 pouting. Accordingly, among other usages current 
 among the back-settlers, the necessity and comfort of 
 which each has learned in turn, that of lending a free 
 helping-hand in the spirit of kindness, is both a lauda- 
 ble and a natural one ; and hence arises the custom of 
 which I have given you a specimen, with others of a 
 like character, A family comes to sit down in the 
 forest, — they must have a shelter ; and giving notice 
 far and near, their neighbours for many miles round 
 lay down their employments, shoulder their axes, and 
 come into the ' log-rolling.' They spend the day in 
 hard labour, and the evening in good-humoured 
 
THE CLEARING. 
 
 Ill 
 
 hilarity, and then retire through the forests, each to his 
 own clearing, leaving the new-comers their good 
 wishes, and a habitation. They frequently render one 
 another the same service in rotation at harvest ; and in 
 the case under our eye, the outcry of the good woman 
 for a quilt, had not failed to call together twenty of her 
 neighbours, young and old ; and many hands made 
 light work. Like the generality of women brought up 
 in the backwoods, they were reserved and silent 
 before strangers. I should have said stupidly so, and 
 that there was more harshness in manner than belonged 
 to the sex under any circumstances ; but I had before 
 my eyes a proof that they were at least good neigh- 
 bours, and therefore thought their manners in this 
 respect of little consequence. The meal which followed 
 was plentiful and homely, and was dispatched first by 
 the female and then by the male visitors, with that 
 marvellous rapidity which is generally observable in 
 the West ; and, as I sat apart till our turn should 
 come, I was very much amused with the bustle of the 
 scene. I watched the plates run the gauntlet from the 
 table to the washing-tub, among a set of little negroes 
 of all shapes and sizes, who all strove to act as pre- 
 liminary scourers, much to the disappointment of the 
 dogs that whined, whimpered, scratched, and pushed 
 their sable competitors, and not less to the annoyance 
 of the fat negress who acted as cook, and who, with 
 lustrous visage and goggle-eyes, flourished her dish- 
 clout over the tub in a fume of impatience. 
 
 The settler had, in the course of the preceding 
 spring, bought three hundred acres of land of the state, 
 at a dollar and a quarter per acre. He came to work 
 upon it in the month of April, at which time the sound 
 of the axe had never been heard in these forests. 
 During the course of that month, he girdled the trees 
 on ten acres — built himself a log hut- — and brought 
 his family out from Independence. At the close of 
 May, after burning the brushwood, and slightly break- 
 ing the surface, he sowed the ten acres, upon which 
 the sun now shone freely, unobstructed by the dying 
 
112 
 
 THE CLEARING. 
 
 spring foliage, with a bushel and a half of gourd- seed 
 maize ; and at the time of my visit in September, he 
 showed me a crop upon the ground ready to harvest, 
 of fifty bushels to the acre — the whole return being, 
 consequently, five hundred bushels for the one and a 
 half sown. At the same time the fodder, yielded by 
 stripping the tall stems of the maize of their broad and 
 redundant leaves, amounted to a thousand bundles, 
 sufficient to afford winter-food for fifteen head of cattle, 
 which, during the summer, had lived and fattened in the 
 forest, with their compeers, the swine, without being a 
 charge upon the owner. Besides this produce, the 
 field had yielded fifty wagon-loads of pumpkins, of 
 which great use is made, both for the family, the 
 negroes, and the stock. Such are the amazing fertility 
 of this region, and the facility with which the necessa- 
 ries of life may be procured ! I have given you this 
 single instance out of many of which I took exact and 
 particular note. 
 
 When I add that the whole tract purchased was of 
 the same inexhaustible richness of soil covered with 
 the most exuberant and noble forest, maay trees which 
 I measured being six yards in girth, abounding with 
 excellent water and limestone, situated at a point where 
 there would be no difficulty in transporting any quan- 
 tity of produce to a market, you may well suppose that 
 the owner cannot but become wealthy. There are rea- 
 sons why many who are in equally favourable situa- 
 tions do not. Loss of health is very frequently the 
 lot of those who occupy these teeming lands, and I 
 have ordinarily observed, that the ease and little ex- 
 penditure of labour and anxiety with which men of this 
 class find themselves enabled to gain food, and even 
 superfluities, seem to unnerve their bodies^ and unstring 
 their minds* Many become listless and unenterprising, 
 and lose that energy which can alone secure riches. 
 
 To return to the village, which I re-entered in the 
 course of the evening, and our proceedings there : 
 
 At fhis time, (with all humility be it said,) I held 
 the perplexing but honourable offices of commissary- 
 
INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 113 
 
 general, and minister of finance to our mess. I could 
 never rightly divine whether this was owing to the dis- 
 covery which ray comrades, Irving and Pourtales, had 
 made of my superior skill and activity, — 1 certainly 
 slept less than either of them — or whether their impo- 
 sition of these dignities and duties on me proceeded 
 from the simple and pure intention of sparing them- 
 selves extraordinary trouble of mind or body. Such, 
 however, was the fact : and I was fully empowered to 
 take care of our outward aflairs — to buy and sell — 
 higgle and haggle — chaffer and cheat, and be cheated, 
 for the public good. In Independence, I had my 
 hands full. I purchased bacon and knives and forks, 
 salt, sugar and flour, coffee and camomile flowers, pep- 
 per and potatoes, and a multitude of sundries, accord- 
 ing to my own judgment, or their fancies and wants. 
 Bat all these matters were trifles, compared with the 
 strain upon the mind and conscience consequent upon 
 the purchase of horses. Though I confess to you that 
 this part of a gentlemanly and classical education had 
 been strangely neglected in my case. I had already 
 learned to look wise in the faces of those brought for 
 sale — to speak knowingly and positively about their 
 age — and though, after having had my fingers snapped 
 at in St. Louis, I had grown rather chary of peeping in 
 jockey style into the mouths of unknown steeds, yet 1 
 contrived to keep up my credit as horse-dealer after 
 all ; and now, for your benefit, I will give you a lesson 
 how to choose a horse for the desert. We will pre- 
 sume that a dire necessity exists for the purchase, and 
 that time admits of no longer delay, and that this ne- 
 cessity is a matter of notoriety to every rogue for ten 
 miles round. Not an old nag or irreclaimable horse 
 can exist within that distance, but he will be straight- 
 way brought in from the forest, where he may have 
 been scouted even by the wolves, brushed up, rubbed 
 down, renovated and endowed with every marketable 
 quality and virtue. Suppose yourself standing before 
 Captain Warner's Hotel, in the rising city of Indepen- 
 dence, and up comes a Yankee settler, Mr. Elisha 
 
 10* 
 
114 
 
 INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Pike, with a horse to dispose of. You are perfectly 
 aware of two things — first, that the animal must have 
 grievous faults, else Mr. Pike would have sold him 
 long ago ; and secondly, that however great or griev- 
 ous these faults are, you have now no choice but to 
 purchase the animal. Your only object must be to 
 save your credit as horsedealer. You see ai a glance 
 that whatever bargain you may contrive to make, it 
 cannot fail to be a bad one* After the ordinary pre- 
 liminaries^ I advise you to place yourself for a few 
 moments in speechless reverie (the less you speak the 
 better,) about three yards in advance of the animal^ 
 and look him in the face- Then move slowly round 
 him, muttering something about ' heaves' — * staggers ' 
 — ' spavin ' — and ' wall-eyed.' As you advance to 
 your first position, you may hazard a question. * Does 
 he trot or break ? ' ' Ere a thing what you please y is 
 the ready anss\er of Mr. Pike. ' Mr. Pike,' you pro- 
 ceed, * I think his left eye waters.' ' A mere touch of 
 the whip^^ responds the seller. 
 
 The price is asked and named. * Too much by 
 half, Mr. Pike.' ' Times aint now as they used to 
 was,^ is the prompt rejoinder of the undaunted horse- 
 jobber. After a moment's hesitation, if he looks tame^ 
 you may venture to stoop down and peep at his knees 
 and his fetlocks, always trusting that he will not incon- 
 tinently spring on your back. You may always safely 
 mutter something about * coming down ;' or if you see 
 he turns bis toes out, express your fear that he is a 
 ' speedy cutter.' The next thing is to desire the seller 
 to bare his teeth. If he happens to have none, I should 
 hardly know w^hat to advise you to think, as there is 
 no knowing with some of those Yankee steeds whether 
 the deficit is to be ascribed to extreme age or extreme 
 youth ; perhaps you had better not hazard an opinion, 
 and resort to the main trial, which we generally had 
 recourse to in despair. This is to take your gun and 
 jump on his back. Then put spurs to him, and dash 
 forward for half a mile at a hand-gallop over one of 
 the rough, broken, stump-bestrewn roads leading 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 115 
 
 through the forest, discharging your piece in mid- 
 career ; and depend upon it, if he neither comes down 
 with you as he scrambles among the stumps, nor 
 swerves at the report, you may after all venture to 
 strike the bargain ; hazarding no very decided declara- 
 tion as to your reasons for so doing, and maintaining 
 such a demeanour as may give Mr. Pike the impres- 
 sion that he has only overreached your pocket and not 
 your judgment. 
 
 But, plaisanterie apart, as the laU operation here, we 
 exchanged or swopped for old Methuselah, value five 
 dollars, the gallant steed sold to us by our worthy 
 Tonish for forty- five dollars, but which we discovered 
 to be so lame that the very day after the purchase no 
 one could ride him. The only positively good quality 
 of our new acquisition was, that he was so deaf that the 
 discharge of a piece of ordnance would never have 
 made him start, and his negative plea to be considered 
 a horse of price, was founded upon his having be- 
 longed to the family of old Daniel Boone, in conse- 
 quence of vvhich Pourtales took a fancy to bestride 
 him. 
 
 In the evening of the 27th I accompanied the Com- 
 missioner alone to the Shawanese Agency on the fron- 
 tiers ; and the following day we struck across the wide 
 prairies to overtake our companions, who had mean- 
 while left Independence, cutting the Santa Fe traders' 
 trail, and, finally, bending more to the southward, hit 
 upon that of our own party, which we followed till we 
 found them encamped in the twilight in a low skirting 
 of wood, under the edge of the prairie. 
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 The following morning, by the time the gray dawn 
 was brighteniag into daylight, our lengthened train 
 
116 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 might be seen issuing from the hollow in which we bad 
 passed the night, and proceeding over the rolling sur- 
 face of the prairie beyond. The appearance of our 
 cavalcade was far from being unpicturesque, and had 
 I Chaucer's wit or Stothard's pencil, I might contrive 
 to furnish you with a picture of almost as much inter- 
 est as the ' Pilgrimage to Canterbury.' It is to be 
 hoped that you will agree with me in accounting the 
 time spent in the Far West, both this and the following 
 year, as the most interesting portion of my late travels. 
 I cannot suspect you of longing, like my other very 
 sensible correspondent, to win me back from the sketches 
 of character and natural scenery to which my own in- 
 clination and temper led me, to the purlieus of alms- 
 houses, the prices of beef and coals, and converse con- 
 cerning parish beadles and overseers. If you should, 
 the sooner you tell me the better, — in the meantime 
 take a sketch of a day on the Missouri frontier. 
 
 Our cavalcade consisted of the Colonel and his two 
 servants, viz. a black boy William, and a little thin 
 lack-a-daisical Frenchman named Prevot, who gene- 
 rally took charge of our two wagons while on the 
 march ; then the Commissioner, the Doctor, Washing- 
 ton Irving, Count Pourtales, and your humble servant, 
 and lastly our scape-grace Tonish, together with an- 
 other half-breed, whose services were principally re- 
 quired to care for a number of led horses. 
 
 Slight traits may suffice to delineate the principal 
 personages. 
 
 The Colonel, whom we considered for the time be- 
 ing the head of the party, generally led the van ; a fine, 
 good-humoured, shrewd man, of French descent, with 
 claims both to fortune and family in Missouri. As our 
 conductor, we were all beholden to his courteous man- 
 ners, and extensive information on everj^ subject con- 
 nected with the country and its red inhabitants, for 
 much of our comfort and entertainment. In the pur- 
 suit of his profession of Indian trader, he had often 
 dared captivity and death. Among the Osages, whose 
 principal trader, and organ with government, he had 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 117 
 
 long been, he was supposed, and I believe justly, to pos- 
 sess the greatest influence. In fact he had been brought 
 iip from his early boyhood, more or less in their camps ; 
 had hunted, feasted, fought with and for them, and 
 was considered by them as a chief and a brother. From 
 him we were glad to take our first lessons in hunting, 
 camping, and backwoodsman's craft, and enjoy our 
 first peep at that kind of life, which, judging from his 
 fine vigorous person, and the health shining on his 
 sun-burnt features, was, with all its hardships, conge- 
 nial to health and good humour. He was to be our 
 guide to the Western Creek Agency, about three hun- 
 dred miles to the southward. The Commissioner, with 
 whom we had long become intimately acquainted, was 
 worthy of the respect which all entertained for him. 
 His kindliness of spirit won our regard ; and we all did 
 justice to the singleness of purpose with which he, a 
 happy husband and parent, and truly a lover of quiet, 
 had left his family and the comforts of an Eastern 
 home, to become a peacemaker among the rude tribes 
 and inhabitants of the West. 
 
 The Doctor was, 1 am happy to say, quite an unne- 
 cessary appendage, and I believe he would have felt 
 no disappointment, had his lot been cast otherwise, as 
 this kind of adventurous life was not consonant with 
 his tastes. He had not made up his mind to all those 
 petty troubles which are unavoidable beyond the pale 
 of civilization, and you will always find that such men 
 are sure to meet vi^ith more mischances than their neigh- 
 bours. As to our trio, I need say nothing here, but 
 pass on to the domestics, a far richer field for descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 The black boy was only distinguished by his good- 
 nature, and by his sleeping like a racoon, while he held 
 the reins and pretended to drive. The Colonel's little 
 French retainer, Prevot, was the scape-goat of the 
 party. He had certainly been born under some very 
 unfortunate aspect of the heavenly signs, and seemed 
 unable to shake off their malignant influence. Nothing 
 could be more diverting to others, than the composed 
 
118 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 melancholy which seemed to reign in his features and 
 sentences, as his weak nasal voice was heard in the 
 brake, or at the camp-fire, deploring his unhappy lot. 
 Did a horse kick — Prevot's shin-bones or fingers bore 
 testimony to the fact. Did it happen that the passage 
 of a rivulet was difficult for the wagon, — look but 
 back, and you might be sure that the legs and skirts 
 disappearing in the brushwood, as the possessor tipped 
 back from the inclined seat, were the appurtenances of 
 little Prevot : and so to the very end of the journey, 
 when we left him on the Neosho with a terrible catarrh. 
 
 These worthies, however, w^ill all be forgotten ere 
 long, and probably you may hear no more mention 
 made of them, but Tonish will not so soon sink into 
 oblivion. Light, active, in the prime of life, no horse 
 could take him by surprise ; no inclined plane could 
 throw him off his balance. He was a man of no mean 
 qualifications. Full of make-shifts, and unspeakably 
 useful in the woods, they were his home. A house 
 was an abomination to him^ and he was at a loss what 
 to do with himself when he got within one. He pos- 
 sessed, however, a wife and family at Florissant, to 
 whom his visits would seem to have been * few and far 
 between.' He w^as garrulous to excess, in spite of an 
 impediment in his speech, in the form of a barrier, 
 which it was necessary to break down by an effort, 
 after which the words composing the meditated sen- 
 tence came tumbling out headlong. He was a weaver 
 of interminable stories, all about himself and his hunt- 
 ing exploits. We soon found out that he was a deter- 
 mined and audacious braggart ; but it was sometime 
 before we all came to the unanimous conclusion, that, 
 for lying effrontery, none of us had ever seen his 
 equal. In fact, such was the ingenious and whimsical 
 way in which he would bring a host of little lies to 
 cover a big one, that it became a matter of amusement 
 with us to watch his manoeuvres. 
 
 Following our march as fancy dictated, or stowed 
 away in the rear of the wagons, we had a train of eight 
 dogs, all belonging to the Colonel, who was something 
 
THE MISSOURI FRONTIER. 
 
 119 
 
 of a humourist, and accordingly they all had appropri- 
 ate names, dictated by love, hate, and political feeling, 
 among which note Henry Clay, a greyhound; Jack- 
 son, a bulldog ; and Mrs. TroUope, a hound with a 
 number of whelps. 
 
 In the south-westerly course which we now followed, 
 the farms or clearings were few in number, and of rare 
 occurrence ; the general character of the country 
 being that of wide open prairies, with long lines of 
 timber trees skirting the course of the creeks and 
 rivers, many of which rose in this elevated corner of 
 the country. The road was merely a track over the 
 natural sod of the prairie, and though practicable 
 in the dry season for such light four-wheeled vehicles 
 as those in our train, the swollen state of the streams 
 often rendered it impassable for weeks. 
 
 Our mode of proceeding was pretty uniform. We 
 struck the tent early ; travelled about fifteen or twenty 
 miles at a sober pace, after which we made halt for an 
 hour, allowing the horses to pick up a little food, and 
 then proceeded ten or twelve miles more, till about an 
 hour before sun-down, when we sought a convenient 
 camping-ground, affording wood, grass, and water. 
 This was the general order of the day's march. If a 
 suitable spot was found in the neighbourhood of one of 
 the scattered farms, it was well ; if not, no one 
 lamented it, for we were much more comfortable and 
 at home in the forest, than under the crowded roof of 
 the settler. We had always egregious appetites, plenty 
 of provisions, absence from care, and sound sleep on 
 a bear-skin ; and what more could we wish ? 
 
 Many of our encampments were eminently pictu- 
 resque, but as I may have subsequently much of this 
 kind of life to describe, I will not now allude to any in 
 particular. 
 
 Tou may suppose us drawing toward the close of a 
 day's journey, and the sun sinking fast down the 
 western horizon. The broken line of the cavalcade, 
 the great intervals between the horsemen, the wagons 
 toiling far in the rear, and the difBculty of keeping the 
 
120 
 
 THE MISSOUft,! FRONTIER. 
 
 ^pare horses on the track, as they Seke upon every 
 opportunity to diverge from it, to feed upon the rank 
 grass, all betoken the propriety of making choice of 
 our night-quarters. 
 
 The streams and creeks, meandering among these 
 vast prairies, are generally deeply sunk, and bordered 
 by a belt of rich forest, of greater or less breadth, 
 and upon such our choice always fell, as we had here 
 wood, water, shelter, and fodder for our steeds. If 
 possible, we halt before the sun is down, that we may 
 get every thing comfortably settled before night-fall, 
 choosing an open space among the trees, within a 
 stone's throw of the water. 
 
 The spot being fixed upon, we drive and ride in 
 among the tall grass and dismount : each unsaddles 
 his steed, hobbles it, as the term is, by tying the two 
 fore-feet close together, and sends it hopping into the 
 forest like a kangaroo, crashing and scrambling 
 through the gigantic and entangled brushwood, which 
 rises under the heavier timber. Here, at this season, 
 they feed upon the pea-vine, a very nutritious plant 
 which abounds in all the wooded alluvial grounds or 
 ' bottoms ' of the Western Prairies. 
 
 As soon as this first duty is performed, we think of 
 ourselves. While the half-breed and the black cut 
 wood, Tonish makes a fire against some fallen tree or 
 log, and flits to and fro in the smoke, like a goblin, 
 while preparing his poles and spits for cookery. Mean- 
 while other hands are employed in pitching the tent, 
 and laying down the bear-skins and blankets within or 
 without as suits convenience. 
 
 By the time this is all fairly arranged, and our arms 
 and accoutrements are carefully hung arbund, night 
 has closed in ; and the fire gleams bright and cheerily 
 upon the huge trunk of the oak, butter-nut and beech, 
 which rise from the tall jungle of towering weeds 
 springing around us far over our heads. Tonish is 
 now by far the most important personage, and we, in 
 common with Henry Clay, Jackson, Mrs. Trollope, 
 
THE MISSOURI FRONTIER. 
 
 121 
 
 and the rest of the Uck-Hp fraternity, await the result 
 of his operations. 
 
 Now and then Clay advances his sharp nose too 
 near certain tempting spits, which, stuck into the earth, 
 and leaning toward the bright embers, support slices 
 of savoury venison, the plump prairie-hen, or squirrel, 
 and gets a sudden knock upon it from Tonish's knife 
 handle. Jackson stands doggedly under the tail of 
 the nearest wagon, with goggle eyes sparkling in the 
 fire light, in eager expectation of the coming feast ; 
 and Mrs. Trollope keeps up a constant snarl at her 
 four whelps, as, incited by the maternal example, they 
 push their noses from underneath the saddles, and 
 from behind the great log, toward the point of general 
 attraction. 
 
 At length the Colonel's sonorous voice is heard, 
 * Messieurs^ le soupe est pare /' and each rousing him- 
 self to the willing toil, contrives a seat around a tent 
 cloth, and partakes of the banquet. And banquet it 
 was ; for we lived at this time like princes, as coffee, 
 biscuit, and bread, were plentiful in the camp, in addi- 
 tion to our other luxuries, among which I would re- 
 count that despised dish, fried pumpkins. 
 
 Then follows the second table, at which the dogs 
 think themselves entitled to partake, and the half-breed 
 and the black are kept busy in alternately bestowing 
 right-handed morsels to their own mandibles, and left- 
 handed thumps to Henry Clay and company. 
 
 The table withdrawn, we sit half an hour round the 
 fire, listen to each other's tales, and, between whiles, 
 to the distant howl of the prairie wolf, the shriek of the 
 owl, the chirp of innumerable grasshoppers and crick- 
 ets, the cry of the bustards going to sleep in the neigh- 
 bouring marsh, or speculate upon some odd nondescript 
 out-of-the-way noise in the deep forest; till in fine, 
 growing gradually sleepy, we steal off to rest. 
 
 I cannot say that silence always held her sceptre 
 over us, even when sound asleep, for little Prevot and 
 the black snored so loud, that the dogs would sit up and 
 bark at the noise. 
 
 VOL. I. il 
 
122 THE MISSOURI FRONTIER. 
 
 Long before daybreak there was generally a wake- 
 ful spirit among us; the fire was stirred up — the 
 breakfast prepared — the horses caught and brought 
 into camp, and before sunrise we were on the road 
 again. 
 
 LETTER XIL 
 
 The character of the country, over which our 
 whole journey from Independence to the Arkansas 
 river was effected, with the exception of a few casual 
 settlements where cultivation had changed the natural 
 face of the soil, was that which distinguishes the whole 
 of that immense territory between the Mississippi and 
 the Rocky mountains. We skirted for several days 
 the eastern limits of those boundless plains which 
 know no settled inhabitants, and over the other ex- 
 tremity of which, at five or six hundred miles distance, 
 the gigantic summit of Mount Pike serves as a land- 
 mark to the scouting Indian or trapper. 
 
 The scenery exhibited by these vast grass-covered 
 prairies, with but the occasional break afforded by a 
 wooded creek, is monotonous to a certain degree ; yet 
 as all those over which we passed belonged to the class 
 called ' rolling prairies,' where a constant gentle ele- 
 vation and depression of the soil gives some variety, 
 besides inducing a variety in the character of the vege- 
 tation, we did not find our journey wearisome. You 
 may have some idea of this class of open country, by 
 recollecting the general outline of our higher and 
 more extensive moorlands — allowing your fancy to 
 clothe them with a deep rich soil, instead of dark peat, 
 and with a carpet of the brightest flowers and grass 
 from six inches to six feet in height, according to cir- 
 cumstances, instead of monotonous purple heather. 
 
 The creeks were abundant in this part of the coun- 
 
THE MISSOURI FRONTIER. 
 
 123 
 
 try, so that we were rarely out of sight of trees at a 
 greater or less distance from our Hne of route, but as 
 much as thirty miles were passed without seeing any. 
 Here and there the country swelled up into a higher 
 level than ordinary, into singular ranges of lime-stone 
 hills, surmounted by what are called ' flint knobs,' 
 which rise not unfrequently some hundred feet above 
 the general level of the country. Over such a chain, 
 called the Mounds, we passed on the last day of the 
 month, and were greatly struck with the regular form 
 and mould of the southernmost excrescence in particu- 
 lar, which rose up in the exact form of a truncated cone. 
 No feature of the western country has been more 
 striking and embarrassing to me than its natural and 
 artificial mounds, of which there exists a regular chain, 
 from such as this just mentioned, about which we feel 
 convinced, in spite of its singular position and regular 
 form, that God was its only artificer, to those whose 
 immense size and shapelessness are attended with in- 
 controvertible proofs that they are wholly the work of 
 human hands. 
 
 We made a halt of half a day in the mission settle- 
 ment of Harmony, an establishment under the direction 
 of the American Board of Missions. It is situated on 
 the banks of the Great Osage river, about seventy-six 
 miles from the village of that division of the Osage 
 tribe knowif1:/y the name of the band of White Hairs. 
 In both this and the sister settlement of Union on the 
 Neosho, which we passed a week later, it appeared 
 that the ends aimed at by the missionaries were chiefly 
 the establishment and maintenance of a school for the 
 Indian children, and the introduction of a taste for agri- 
 culture, and that their views of usefulness were limited 
 to these objects. 
 
 At the time of our halt the settlement was sur- 
 rounded by a number of strolling Indians of the Pian- 
 kashaw tribe, and these excited the more interest, as 
 they were the first of the children of the forest we had 
 seen in the vicinity of their own settlements, and in 
 their own guise. Among the men there were many 
 
124 THE MISSOURI FRONTIER. 
 
 fine picturesque figures ; but the mixture of Indian and 
 European costumes was strikingly grotesque. The ap- 
 parel of three warriors, whom curiosity attracted to u» 
 during the morning, may give you an idea of Indian taste 
 and coxcombry. The oldest, Big Fish, appeared clad 
 in the usual Indian leggins and moccasins or shoes, of 
 tanned deer-skin, and his smoke-stained blanket was 
 thrown negligently over a soiled cotton shirt, furnished 
 with a superabundance of frill, while his head was en- 
 veloped in a shawl-turban of gaudy colours. The 
 second of the group wore a fanciful green cotton shirt 
 under his blanket, his lower limbs being clothed like 
 those of his fellows ; but he depended on the paint 
 lavished upon his dark features to win the hearts of 
 the squaws in the train, having adorned himself with 
 bright blue and vermilion in two irregular square 
 patches, the one on the left temple, and the other on 
 the right eye. The third was really a handsome 
 fellow, with a bunch of stained eagle feathers on his 
 crown, a dark blue shirt, blanket, and red cloth leggins. 
 Their squaws were hideous to behold. 
 
 The day after we passed Harmony, our route, which 
 had hitherto lain within the Missouri line, crossed the 
 frontier by bearing more to the west, and we entered 
 the country then appertaining to the Osages, As we 
 advanced, the surface of the prairies became more 
 and more stony. 
 
 My general custom during this portion of our tour, 
 was every morning, as soon as I had saddled my 
 horse, a duty which each took upon himself, to shoul- 
 der my gun, and leave the encampment on foot, both 
 for the sake of varying the mode of travel, botanizing, 
 and the chance of meeting with game, before the noise 
 of our advancing train should have driven it at a dis- 
 tance from our path. At this early hour the sweetness 
 and freshness of the air were indescribably delicious ; 
 and though the gaudy Flora of the declining year was 
 in a great degree void of perfume, yet it seemed as if 
 every sense partook of enjoyment. It is just at this 
 time when the sun's level beams begin to warm the 
 
THE MISSOURI FRONTIER. 
 
 135 
 
 dank surface of these wide meadows, that the ah' is 
 filled with the mournfully sweet and glassy notes of the 
 yellow-breasted meadow-lark, as she rises from her 
 covert in the tall grass, and flies, as you advance, from 
 one tuft of wild indigo to another. It is then that 
 groups of that fine species of grouse, the prairie-fowl,* 
 are to be seen sitting upon the trampled sod of the 
 track, sunning themselves, while with outstretched 
 neck and expanded ruff" the watchful cock-bird gives 
 careful notice of the approach of a human foot. It is 
 then that the deer may be met with, bounding to 
 covert ; and that the white and black autumnal moths 
 are seen fluttering among the flowers and grass in 
 myriads. 
 
 As the sun gets higher, the falcon may be observed 
 on the alert, with his level wing and piercing eye, 
 slanting along the trail, peeping into every rut, and 
 prying into every tuft of grass for the grouse, who 
 instantly bury themselves in the wilderness of plants, 
 and thus escape his rapacious gripe. At the same time 
 the moths disappear, and in their place numbers of 
 winged grasshoppers, yellow, green, and red, rise from 
 the side of the road, take their short flight of half a 
 dozen yards, play the butterfly for an instant, and then 
 drop heavily among the flowers. 
 
 I believe it was on the afternoon of the second of 
 October, that we arrived at the limit of a long swell in 
 the country of greater elevation than ordinary. An 
 old Osage warrior of the Gray Hairs' band, whose 
 name was ' the Destroyer of Cities,' alias ' the Burner 
 of Wigwams,' then attached to our party, and acting 
 as our guide, was riding at the head of our small 
 column. When he arrived at the brink of the ascent, 
 he paused, reined in his pony, and turning half round 
 as he beckoned us forward, spread his arms, signifying 
 to us the wide expanse that burst upon his sight ; and 
 that this broad extent of country, dimly descried in 
 the deep red haze, was the present domain of his tribe* 
 
 Tetrao pratensis. 
 
 11* 
 
126 
 
 THE OSAGE COUNTRY. 
 
 And truly that apparently illimitable ocean of meadow, 
 wreathed in the smokes ascending from a hundred 
 burning tracts, with its numberless lines of forest, 
 stretching like capes and promontories into it, mingling 
 with the dun and misty horizon, toward which the sun 
 was sinking like a glowing ball of fire, formed a sub- 
 lime scene. 
 
 His tribe had broken up from its summer resi- 
 dence on the Neosho ; the warriors forming the great 
 hunting party had gone off with their chief toward 
 the Buffalo-range and the great Salt Plains, many days' 
 journey to the westward, for their autumnal hunt ; and 
 the rest of the band were dispersing to their several 
 hunting-grounds within the limit of their own ter- 
 ritory. 
 
 The following day, as we proceeded southward, we 
 saw ourselves surrounded by the smoke of their fires. 
 It rose on every hand, over the level horizon of prai- 
 rie, or through the forest along the creeks. About 
 noon many groups appeared in sight, pursuing their 
 way in long files, or in single small bodies over the 
 country, with squaws, papooses, and laden ponies. 
 
 With the exception of a blanket and a few orna- 
 ments, there was little European clothing observable 
 among the males. The warrior was generally seen 
 marching first, with his firm straight step and upright 
 bearing, burdened with nothing but his rifle. Many 
 of them were good specimens of the North American 
 Indian ' brave/ and wore the head shaved, with the 
 exception of the scalp-lock on the crown, and painted 
 vermilion. In general they were tall, and in a cer- 
 tain degree martial in gait and bearing : yet, though 
 straight-limbed, too spare to be handsome. The coun- 
 tenances of the squaws, on ::he contrary, after true 
 savage fashion, were bent toward the earth, from the 
 burden of skins or other articles imposed upon their 
 shoulders, and secured in its position by a strap of 
 leather over the temples. The Indian ponies had also 
 their burden of baskets and utensils ; and the round 
 head and glistening eyes of many a httle papoose 
 
THE OSAGE COUNTRY. 
 
 127 
 
 bobbed up and down among the motley bundles of 
 which the load was composed ;— the boys and elder 
 children brought up the rear. 
 
 At this time, our encampments were continually 
 surrounded by this tribe. The moment the Indian 
 proclaimed a halt to his family, he drew to one side — 
 grounded his rifle — twisted his blanket closer over his 
 attenuated person, and looked on with listlessness and 
 apathy at the labours of the squaws, who meanwhile 
 were busily employed in bending the twigs of the 
 underwood into a skeleton hut — covering them with 
 mats and skins — making their fires, and cooking. In 
 every thing they seem to be the drudges of the males. 
 As to personal appearance, with very few exceptions, 
 I can only specify three degrees, — horrible, more 
 horrible, most horrible ! 
 
 Of all the Indian tribes at which we got a glance, 
 this and the following year, the Osage came nearest to 
 our idea of the North American Indian. The Southern 
 Indian struck us as being more effeminate ; and the 
 more northern tribes, though I own they were in ap- 
 pearance far finer specimens of manly beauty, yet 
 wanted much of the dignity of march and demeanour 
 of the poor Osage. He is truly the child of the desert ; 
 and while the Creek and the Cherokee, whom circum- 
 stances have brought into his neighbourhood, are in 
 some degree showing an inclination to bend to their 
 circumstances, and cultivate the ground, and may 
 attain to a certain degree of civilization, the Osages 
 still scorn the alternative of labour to famine. Their 
 Great Father at Washington sends them milch cows, 
 draught oxen, and farming utensils, and delegates to 
 instruct them in their management and use. The 
 Missionaries provide schools, and by labouring them- 
 selves, attempt to show that labour and freedom are 
 compatible with each other. The squaw is cajoled 
 to send her son to school ; but what is the consequence 
 of all these well-meant attempts to civilize them ? The 
 crows are killed to get the milk — and the oxen are 
 killed because the Indian cannot see the wisdom of 
 
128 
 
 THE OSAGE. 
 
 Starving while so much food is walking about. The 
 Indian attempt at ploughing, which begins with seven 
 able-bodied warriors assisting the coulter in its opera- 
 tion, ends with the machine being broken or thrown 
 aside in disgust. The agent, who, seeing the impos- 
 sibility of getting them to do any thing when the object 
 is not manifest and of speedy fulfilment, encloses a 
 large tract, sows it with maize, keeps it in his own 
 hands till ripe, and then, summoning the band, says — 
 'My brethren! your village is composed of twenty 
 lodges — here are twenty acres of ripe corn — take it, 
 and divide it justly.' The chiefs grunt their approba- 
 tion — ' It is all good— very good !' The satisfied agent 
 goes to bed, and when he gets up at sunrise the next 
 morning, sees three hundred hobbled horses eating, 
 fighting, and trampling the corn into the earth : one 
 of the joint proprietors having had the bright idea 
 that by hobbling his horse and putting him into the 
 field, the share appertaining to him might be gathered 
 without any manual labour or mental exertion on his 
 part ; a felicitous idea, which is soon hailed and fol- 
 lowed by the rest. This is a fact ! Again — instead 
 of feeling under an obligation for the instruction of- 
 fered to their young, the Osage father thinks the boy 
 ought to receive wages for going to school. Even 
 in the case when the Missionaries, through circum- 
 stances, have contrived to keep a young Indian half- 
 breed (for a full-blood Indian can hardly ever be 
 detained beyond childhood) for a few years, and given * 
 him some insight into the most common laws and uses 
 of agriculture ; the only consequence is, that when he 
 goes back to his tribe, he is worth nothing — he is 
 neither able to subsist in the manner of the Pale-faces, 
 nor to hunt with his red brethren, and frequently be- 
 comes an outcast. Yet, though this seems to be the 
 unsuccessful issue of most attempts to civilize the Osage 
 — I am aware that there is one trial making on the 
 Neosho, by a person of great tact, prudence, and 
 Christian principle, where he has a fine fertile tract 
 under his own cultivation, and the control of a small 
 
THE OSAGE. 
 
 129 
 
 band of Osages, which promises well. But few of his 
 Indians join the great spring and autumnal hunts, or 
 the war parties of the tribe — and that is certainly a 
 proof of success ; for, in general, you might as soon 
 expect the young wolf, whom you bring up from a cub, 
 in apparent gentleness and attachment to your person, 
 to remain so, when, having come to his full strength, he 
 has once strayed beyond his chain — seen the round 
 moon — snuffed the night air — and heard the howl of 
 his compeers in the mountains, as you can that the 
 young Indian should lie by and labour the earth with 
 the spade and harrow, when he sees his brethren dance 
 the buffalo'dance, and turn their faces to the broad 
 desert — or hears the war-whoop of his tribe. For the 
 rest, the life of the Indian is well known, and I need 
 not dwell upon it. 
 
 I have noticed elsewhere the determination enter- 
 tained by the government of the United States to 
 remove all the scattered remnants of the Indian tribes 
 dwelling on their reserved lands in the different parts 
 of the Union east of the Mississippi, to the country 
 west of the same great river. At the time of which 
 these letters treat, this had been in a great measure 
 effected, and by the sale and cession of their lands to the 
 east, many tribes found themselves dispersed upon the 
 frontier, from about the 91st to the 95th degree of longi- 
 tude, in the Missouri and Arkansas Territory, while 
 yearly additions have since been made to their number. 
 Thus, portions of the Creeks, Cherokees, Choctaws, 
 Quappaws, Delawares, Senecas, and Shawanees, with 
 many minor tribes, were ranged along that parallel ; the 
 Osages forming, as it were, the advanced line. The 
 Seminoles of Florida, by this time, have left their homes 
 on the waters and barrens of the Peninsula, and have 
 gone to sit down on the edge of the great desert, by 
 the side of their brethren the Creeks. The three first- 
 named tribes certainly hold out a promise of the gradual 
 attainment of civilization — many not only cultivating 
 large tracts, but holding in their own persons many 
 slaves, and living altogether by agriculture. They 
 
130 
 
 THE INDIAN TRIBES. 
 
 may become permanent possessors of the soil they now 
 cultivate. The recent invention of written characters, 
 by a fuil-blooded Cherokee, consisting of eighty-four 
 signs, expressing all the dominant sounds of that lan- 
 guage, and the great number of half-breeds among 
 thenij are both favourable to this change of life. The 
 best proof that they are advancing from their savage 
 state to a higher grade, is that their numbers increase ; 
 while almost all other Indian tribes spread over the 
 American Continent, far and near, are known to di- 
 minish in number so rapidly, that common observation 
 alone enables any one to predict their utter extinction 
 before the lapse of many years. 
 
 There are certainly causes operating to produce this 
 ultimate disappearance of the red tribes of America, 
 which are not fully understood. It is pretty well 
 ascertained, that at the time of the discovery of this 
 continent, their numbers were diminishing, and the 
 same is observed at the present day of tribes as yet far 
 removed from either direct or indirect influence of the 
 white man. However, we need not seek for hidden 
 causes why those in contact with European blood 
 should wither and eventually pass away, leaving no 
 vestige behind them. 
 
 The gifts which the Pale-faces brought to the Chil- 
 dren of the Forest have indeed been fatal ones, and 
 by them the seeds of misery and death have been 
 sown to a terrible extent. 
 
 I do not believe that at the time they first saw the 
 vessels of the discoverers and their followers come over 
 the Great Ocean, they were either a happy race or one 
 of simple habits. The life of fierce extremes which 
 they were even then found to lead ; the close acquaint- 
 ance with all the extremities of war, disease, and famine, 
 which even then they endured ; the uncontrolled sway 
 of violent passions ; the degradation of their women, all 
 tend positively to contradict the supposition that this 
 might be or was the case. Whatever may have been 
 written, said, or sung, they were never the rivals of the 
 Arcadians. Their system of religious faith was, it is 
 
THE INDIAN TRIBES. 131 
 
 true, perhaps in itself, the purest that has anywhere been 
 found among savages, and eminently distinguished 
 them from their neighbours to the southward. Their 
 faith did not, perhaps, like that of many heathen 
 nations, aggravate and stimulate the force of their 
 animal passions ; but it does not seem to have had the 
 power to check and chasten them. 
 
 What the influence of their contact and intercourse 
 with the European has been, we all know. Where he 
 found them poor, he left them poorer ; where one scene 
 of violence and vengeance has been seen, there many 
 have been acted ; where he found one evil passion, 
 he planted many ; where one fell disease had thinned 
 their ranks, he brought those of his blood and land to 
 reap a more abundant harvest. His very gifts were 
 poison : selfish and inconsiderate in his kindness, he 
 was very bitter in his revenge and anger : he excited 
 the passions of the savage for his own purposes, and 
 when it raged against him, he commenced the work of 
 extermination. He then read that the day of the abo- 
 riginal inhabitant of the soil had come, and that the 
 white man was destined to take the place of the red, and 
 perhaps he divined well and truly ; but he had no right 
 to presume upon it, or that he was to be the active 
 instrument in forwarding that mysterious dispensation 
 of God. 
 
 We read the history of the conquest of the pro- 
 vinces in the southern division of the Western Hemis- 
 phere and the Islands, and execrate the bloodthirstiness 
 of the Spaniard, who exterminated whole tribes at once 
 by the sword, under the banner of the blessed Cross ; 
 and yet the conduct of the Pilgrim Fathers and their 
 children towards the aborigines of the North is hardly 
 less culpable or less execrable. Like the Spaniard, the 
 Puritan warred under the banner of his faith, and con- 
 sidered the war as holy. No one who reads the history 
 of these countries since their first settlement, can draw 
 any other conclusion, than that the white man secretly, 
 with his grasping hand, selfish policy, and want of faith, 
 has been, in almost every case, directly or indirectly 
 
132 
 
 THE INDIAN TRIBES. 
 
 the cause of the horrors which he afterward rose 
 openly to retahate. How often did he return evil for 
 good ] That the wrath of the Indian, when excited, was 
 terrible, his anger cruel, and his blows indiscriminate, 
 falling almost always on the comparatively innocent ; 
 and that defence, and perhaps retaliation, then became 
 necessary, to save the country from repetitions of those 
 fearful scenes of murder and torture which make the 
 early settlements a marvel and a romance, is also to be 
 allowed : — but the settlement of the various portions of 
 America, with but few exceptions, is equally in the 
 north and the south a foul blot upon Christendom. 
 
 But the evil is now done, and unfortunately irre- 
 parable, in that part of the continent of America in 
 which I am now writing to you. The Indian tribes 
 have melted like snow from before the steady march of 
 the white, and diminished in number and power, beaten 
 back, they first gave way and retired beyond the Moun- 
 tains, and then beyond the Great River and to the 
 westward of the Great Lakes. If you ask, where is 
 that noble race whom Smith found in Virginia, the race 
 of Powhatan, which then overspread that fair country 
 between the Alleghany and the sea? — where the pow- 
 erful tribes of the East, — the posterity of Uncas or 
 Philip, — the white man's friend or the white man's foe, 
 — or the tribes that clustered round the base of the White 
 Mountains? — the same answer suits all ; they are gone ! 
 — and scanty remnants scattered here and there, hardly 
 preserve their name. We shall hear no more of the 
 Indian patriot or the Indian statesman. You seek for 
 the scions of that famous confederacy, the Five Nations, 
 the Romans of the West, as they have been termed. 
 In the depth of a narrow wooded vale, retired from the 
 flourishing settlements of the whites, in the western 
 parts of the state of New-York, lingering on the spot 
 where the Great Council-fire of the confederacy burnt 
 for centuries, I have seen the handful of degenerate 
 children who call themselves Onondagas. A few of 
 the Oneidas still occupy a small reservation in the same 
 neighbourhood. The sweet vale of the Mohawk has 
 
THE INDIAN TRIBES. 
 
 133 
 
 long ceased to call that tribe master. Queen Anne's 
 Chapel, built for their especial use, never sees an Indian 
 within its walls. A scattered remnant of their tribe 
 and of their confederates has settled down in Upper 
 Canada; and as to their powerful antagonists, the De- 
 laware, with its branches, so celebrated for their ora- 
 tory, — and the Shawanees, the tribe of Tecumseh, what 
 a feeble and scattered remnant are now distinguished 
 by those lofty names ! 
 
 It is my conviction that the government of the United 
 States, as well as the population of its settled districts, 
 are very sincere in their desire to see justice done to 
 the remnant of these tribes, and, as far as is consistent 
 with the general welfare of the community, to favour 
 and succour them. The main difficulty is, how and by 
 what means these ends are to be attained. The mea- 
 sure now generally adopted, of buying their various 
 lands and reservations, where surrounded by the popu- 
 lation of the States, and principally those of the east 
 of the Mississippi, has met with much condemnation 
 from Europeans, especially from those who know the 
 secret of these purchases. The only valid apology 
 which can be made for it, is that of stern and absolute 
 necessity. If the existence of that be proved, the policy 
 may be defended, however many things may seem to 
 cast doubt on the expediency or the justice of thus 
 expatriating the wrecks of these tribes from their small 
 heritage of the land of their forefathers ; for though the 
 land is virtually bought, and the tribe to a certain 
 degree well remunerated, it is still expatriation. This 
 plea I have, however unwillingly, been led at length to 
 admit. The white man and the Indian cannot be near 
 neighbours. They never will and never can amalga- 
 mate. Feuds, murders, disorders will spring up; 
 mutual aggression among the dissolute and ignorant of 
 both classes will give rise to yet greater evils. If the 
 Indian turns his back upon the alternative of civiliza- 
 tion, he must recede ; and were it not even advan- 
 tageous to the white, it would be mercy in the latter to 
 
 12 
 
134 
 
 THE INDIAN TRIBES. 
 
 attempt by all lawful means to arrange matters in sircfi 
 a way as to avoid the possibility of collision. 
 
 Yet, granting that this policy is sound because 
 imperious, no one can look upon the slate of the 
 Indian, struggling for existence on the frontier, without 
 commiseration. He is perhaps removed from an im- 
 poverished country as far as the game is concerned, to 
 one abounding in it, and of greater extent and richness 
 of soil than that which he relinquishes. The annuity 
 granted by government, the provision made for schools 
 and agricultural instruction, would seem to place him 
 in a more enviable situation, even though he were 
 removed a thousand miles from the graves of his fathers. 
 Yet here he is, if any thing, more exposed to oppression ; 
 from that portion of the white population with whom 
 he is in contact being in general the most abandoned. 
 And it is in this that the Indian system pursued by the 
 government is yet defective. I would ask, are the 
 majority of the agents appointed by government to live 
 among the Indians, — to carry its benevolent designs 
 into execution, just, honest, and good men — men of 
 character and probity — above profiting by the defence- 
 less state of the tribes, and superior to the temptations 
 held out on everj^ hand for self-aggrandizement? I 
 think I might answer without fear of contradiction in 
 the negative. The ^Indians are surrounded by bad 
 men, as the hungry wolves of the desert surround a 
 troop of horses. The government of the United^States 
 shows by its conduct to these agents that it does not 
 put confidence in them; and the hard measure which it 
 deals out to them is but a bad apology for much of the 
 iniquity practised by them. The position of both Indian 
 agent and Indian trader is one of overwhelming temp- 
 tation to a man of lax principle. 
 
 As long as matters are so, and the Indian tribes are 
 not put under the inspection of irreproachable men, 
 this difiiculty of essentially benefiting them, must be 
 felt by the well-meaning and honest-hearted people of 
 the older States. Men of character are sent out, it is 
 true, from time to time, to see for themselves, and 
 
THE NEOSHO. 
 
 135 
 
 report upon this or the other question ; but they seldom 
 know any thing of Indian affairs from personal expe- 
 rience ; and those that do, and the only men who can, 
 instruct them, are the very Indian agents and traders, 
 few of whom, for very evident reasons, are to be trusted. 
 Such are the great impediments in the way of obtaining 
 correct information of the real state of affairs, as those 
 best informed are for the most part inclined to be in- ^ 
 fluenced by private views, and those best intentioned 
 least likely to arrive at the truth. The system con- 
 demns itself. 
 
 What check is there upon an unprincipled agent, 
 who knows that for a bottle of whiskey an Indian will 
 sign or say anything, and at the same time that his 
 testimony is not valid in a court of justice ? 
 
 As to the Missionaries on this frx^ntier, my general 
 impression was, that they were worthy men ; rather 
 upright than sound in their views for the civilization 
 and moral improvement of the tribes among whom 
 they were sent to labour ; and, like many of their 
 brethren all over the worJd^^far too weak handed and 
 deficient in worldly wisdom, to cope effectually with the 
 difficulties thrown in their way by the straggling but 
 powerful community of traders, agents, and adventurers 
 of every kind, with whom they must be associated in 
 their intercourse with the Indians. Their work must 
 be a work of faith and humble dependence on God, for 
 by their own strength and wisdom they will achieve 
 nothing. He can effect what men would pronounce 
 impossible. In the lawless, licentious conduct of most 
 of the nominal Christians connected with them, the 
 Indian finds sufficient excuse for not quitting the faith 
 of his fathers, as that proffered in exchange seems to 
 produce such evil fruit. But I must bring this long 
 letter to a close. 
 
 On the 6th of October we reached the Neosho, or 
 Grand River, a tributary of the Arkansas. We found 
 the great village of the band of Grey Hairs deserted 
 and despoiled of all its contents, as we had been given 
 tp expect ; we paid a short visit to the small settlement 
 
136 
 
 THE NEOSHO. 
 
 of Osage Indians, under the care of Mr* Riquois, the 
 gentleman alluded to above, and then pushed on to the 
 Saline. 
 
 This was an estate situated on the romantic bank of 
 the Neosho, about fifty miles above Fort Gibson. It 
 was the property of the Colonel, whose welcome home 
 amid a crowd of Negroes, Indians of divers tribes and of 
 both sexes, dogs, pigs, cats, turkies, horses, ducks, al! 
 looking fat and happy, was an extremely amusing sight. 
 
 We were his guests for a day or two, long enough 
 to see that we were on a fine estate, producing but 
 little"^^ surplus after feeding the biped and quadruped 
 ' varmint' living upon it ; and to witness the coalition 
 formed between the squadron of new dogs and the old 
 retainers, who behaved with great urbanity and kindness 
 to the new comers. We then proceeded, by way of 
 Union, to the Western Creek Agency on the river Ver- 
 digris, not far distant from the fort. 
 
 LETTER XIII, 
 
 I MIGHT have mentioned in my last, that on our arri- 
 val at the Saline, the Commissioner and Mr. Irving 
 had pushed forward in advance of us, to Fort Gibson, 
 the former being anxious to reach his future head-quar- 
 ters, to learn whether his coadjutors had found their 
 way thither from the eastward. Both the Neosho, 
 upon which the fort was situated, and the Verdigris 
 at the agency, upon whose banks Pourtales and myself 
 had halted at the close of my last, discharge themselves 
 into the Arkansas within a few rods of one another, 
 the posts mentioned above, being four or five miles from 
 the points of junction, and in the line about six from 
 each other. 
 
 The original idea of my comrade and myself had 
 been to attach ourselves to one of the two great bands 
 
WESTERN CREEK AGENCY. 
 
 137 
 
 of the Osage tribe, the Grey Hairs or Clermont, and to 
 accompany them on their autumnal hunt. This pro- 
 ject was however eventually defeated, and you would 
 hardly be interested by my going into the history of 
 the disappointment, which, in truth, was a grievous 
 one, especially to my companion. Both bands had 
 already raised camp, and gone off to the westward, 
 and we were glad to accept the invitation we received \ 
 on our arrival at the agency, from our companions at 
 the fort, to join them in overtaking, and subsequently 
 accompanying, an armed expedition to the westward, 
 which had been despatched a day or two previously in 
 that direction, by the commander of the cantonment. 
 An Indian runner had been sent after the body of ran- 
 gers composing it, with orders to the officers to halt till 
 the commissioner and his party should come up with 
 them. 
 
 The intimation of this new plan was conveyed to us 
 on the afternoon of our arrival at the agency, and as 
 the next morning was appointed for departure, the 
 interval was one of great hurry and bustle of prepa- 
 ration. 
 
 The excursion we were upon the eve of commencing, 
 differed from that which we had but just concluded in 
 many ways. It was to carry us beyond all human ha- 
 bitations, white or Indian, into a tract of country but 
 imperfectly known even to our guides. It was out of 
 the line of the usual Indian trails, and the luxury of a 
 baggage-wagon was out of the question. The party 
 in advance were all men inured to the semi-savage life 
 of the backwoodsman, and carried their whole stock of 
 conveniences and necessaries on their saddles : and as 
 to ourselves, a few spare saddle-horses, and three or 
 four beasts of burden for the transport of our tent, cook- 
 ing apparatus, and little hoard of luxuries, were all 
 that it was deemed advisable to be added to the train. 
 
 Of all our former company, the indespensable Tonish 
 alone was retained ; the others having reached the point 
 of their destination. None of the gallant steeds we 
 had brought from St. Louis and Independence were 
 
 12* 
 
138 
 
 WESTERN CREEK AGENCY. 
 
 thought in a condition to undertake this fresh campaign 
 in their state of exhaustion, with the exception of those 
 hitherto used for the wagons, and these were now 
 pressed into the service as sumpter-horses, and furnisli- 
 ed with pack-saddles. 
 
 So here was a grievous duty again : and fresh calls 
 for the display of jockeyship and cunning. The worst 
 was, that all the rogues about us, and they were many, 
 knew that we were in a cleft-stick. They knew, as I 
 have described elsewhere, that horses must be had, and 
 as is usual in such cases, showed their sympathy by 
 fleecing us without conscience. However, bargains 
 were concluded, letters written and despatched on 
 their long journey to our European friends — provisions 
 bought and packed — the indispensable buck-skin leg- 
 gins, moccasins, and hunting-shirts procured — the 
 thousand and one odd jobs which always imperatively 
 claim a man's attention when he has hardly time to 
 turn himself, disposed of somehow or other — arms 
 cleaned — ^ammunition looked to — balls and buckshot 
 provided in sufficient quantity for a regular battle — 
 horses shod — and saddle-bags stuffed to repletion. 
 Besides our ordinary saddle-horses, we contrived to 
 procure two excellent steeds for extraordinary service ; 
 and as matters turned out, you will see how much we 
 stood in need of them. In fine, imagine us ready just 
 in time to join our two friends, who arrived from the 
 fort at the hour appointed, and finally, about noon, 
 October 10th, under the escort of an invalid lieuten- 
 ant, and twelve or fourteen invalid rangers, setting 
 forth with our beasts of burden in quest of the party 
 some fifty or sixty miles in advance. Imagine us 
 sleeping in the court yard of one of the frontier farms 
 on the first night, passing through the Creek nation 
 and by the very last white habitation at noon of the 
 second day, and finally, relinquishing the hope of fall- 
 ing in with the Osages, bending our steps with our 
 companions undauntedly toward the unknown desert 
 region before us. 
 
 The setting sun! You may have remarked how 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 139 
 
 steadily for nearly the whole of this year we turned 
 our faces toward that glorious spectacle ; — ^how spring 
 found us day after day with our hopes and wishes 
 directed there at the hour of eve, while we listened to 
 the songs of the emigrant on the bosom of the sea ; 
 how evening after evening, we saw the purple and gold 
 of the summer sky reflected upon the vast liquid sur- 
 face of the rivers of the New World ; and now, when 
 autumn was spreading its gorgeous hues over the forest 
 and prairie, we still pressed forward toward the glow- 
 ing sky, and camped with our faces to the west. 
 
 Practice makes perfect, and by degrees the disorder 
 which almost always accompanies a hasty departure, 
 was succeeded by something like order in our train 
 and its details. 
 
 Every article, however ill adapted for packing and 
 transportation on the back of a horse, seemed after a 
 while to get accustomed to the position allotted it by the 
 sharp-witted Tonish and his coadjutors, of whom more 
 anon. 
 
 I recollect one exception, however, and that was an 
 odd boot, (a yet more melancholy spectacle than an 
 odd glove,) which was a complete eye-sore as it 
 dangled hour after hour from the crupper of one of the 
 pack-saddles. We were perfectly at a loss to know 
 what had become of its fellow for some time, till on 
 the arrival of the commissioner's new attache as guide, 
 hunter, and interpreter, who had lagged in the rear, 
 we heard, that many miles back, he had descried a 
 Creek Indian with a moccasin on one foot, and my friend 
 Pourtales' fashionable boot on the other, very patiently 
 hunting about in the long grass for the fellow. 
 
 I have named the guide, Beatte, and as he will, per- 
 haps, figure on divers occasions on my paper, you 
 shall here have his character. In consequence of the 
 arrangements made by one or other of the party, he 
 and another half-breed, named Antoine, had been 
 added to the number of personal attendants. In the 
 character of the latter, indolence seemed to be the pre- 
 vailing feature. It was depicted in his h^avy, sleepy, 
 
140 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 dark eye ; and the Indian blood evidently predomi^ 
 nated over the French. He was willing and active 
 enough when excited, but it was no common occasion 
 that would incite him to action. For an hour together 
 he would stand at the camp-fire, with his cloak tightly 
 twisted round his body, his arms motionless within, 
 and gaze upon nothing with a fixed glance, in which 
 there was neither life nor speculation. In form, he 
 was an object of admiration to us all, and I suspect to 
 himself no less. His body and limbs were most sym- 
 metrically moulded. His bust was that of an Antinous. 
 Indeed, I may here observe, that the finest living 
 models of the human figure I ever saw, were among 
 the Indian half-breeds. 
 
 Beatte was the son of a French Creole, by a Quo- 
 paw mother. He was of medium height, and of a 
 light compact form and good features. His clothes, 
 poor as they might be in quality, always appeared 
 well draped on his person, and there was something in 
 his whole character and manner, which answered to 
 the picture my fancy paints of Robin Hood. Way- 
 ward and distant till he became attached to our 
 persons, we were all inclined to misjudge him at first ; 
 but before we had been a week together in the wilder- 
 ness we found his value. He was by far the best 
 hunter of the whole party engaged in the expedition. 
 The very reverse of Tonish, who used to spread the 
 tidings of his own going forth to the chase throughout 
 the camp, with huge predictions of extraordinary suc- 
 cess, which were very rarely fulfilled ; Beatte, seeing 
 that the horses were hobbled, and his services not in 
 immediate demand, took his rifle, stole forth quietly, 
 and seldom came back empty-handed. Further, he 
 was the only one in the whole company who had any 
 knowledge of the country, and his information and 
 guidance might in general be depended on ; moreover 
 there was that feeling about him, that he would be true 
 to you in a strait, and stand by you either in a bear- 
 fight or an Indian skirmish ; and that was not to be 
 undervalued. That he had met with rough adventures 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 141 
 
 enough in the course of his chequered existence was 
 proved by the state of his limbs and ribs, most of 
 which had been broken or dislocated again and again. 
 In short, when the time of parting came, we all looked 
 upon Beatte as a friend, and Tonish as a scaramouch. 
 
 The objects proposed by the expedition were to 
 penetrate into the country lying between the river 
 Arkansas, eighty or one hundred miles above the 
 Neosho, and the Great Canadian to the southward. 
 The idea had been entertained of reserving that part 
 of the country for the ulterior occupation of the tribes 
 on the point of removal from the southern states of the 
 Union, and for this purpose it was necessary to ascer- 
 tain its real character. The course of the intermediate 
 streams, principally that of the Red Fork, and the 
 tributaries of the Great Canadian were but indifferently 
 known, few besides trappers and hunters having hitherto 
 visited their banks. 
 
 An ulterior project of reaching the Great Red River 
 by pursuing a southerly course after gaining the bank 
 of the Canadian was included, but you will find that 
 the expedition failed to accomplish this, from the late- 
 ness of the season and other causes. 
 
 On the evening of the third day after quitting the 
 Agency, as we carefully followed the trail of the party 
 in advance, chiefly through the wooded belt of country 
 a little north of the Arkansas, we came to the bank 
 of that river, — a mighty stream descending from the 
 highest summits of the Rocky Mountains, through salt 
 and grassy plains, upwards of two thousand miles, to 
 join the ' Father of Waters,' of which it forms the 
 largest tributary, with the exception of the Missouri. 
 
 We passed at the same hour an Osage encampment, 
 learning by the way that the Rangers had been seen 
 some miles ahead. Yet we were unable to come up 
 with them before night-fall ; and had, in fine, to encamp 
 in an indifferent spot for that night. The following 
 morning, however, we joined them after a ride of an 
 hour, and found them snugly posted in a rich well- 
 timbered levelj about two miles from the river. They 
 
142 
 
 THE RANGERS. 
 
 had halted here already two days, awaiting our an- 
 nounced approach, and here the officer in command of 
 our escort gave his charge up to his superior officer, 
 Captain B. 
 
 The body of men to which we were now attached, 
 formed a company of eighty Rangers in the pay of the 
 government, enlisted for the service of the frontier, 
 among the young backwoodsmen of Missouri and 
 Arkansas, for a given time ; each providing, however, 
 his own horse, rifle, and clothing. Food and ammu- 
 nition w^ere furnished to them ; the nature of the ser- 
 vice being of the roughest, uniforms were dispensed 
 with, and each appeared garbed as his fancy or finances 
 dictated. Among them there was an amusing variety 
 of character, and I have a suspicion that, intermingled 
 with some very sober and worthy members of society, 
 allured to enlist by a desire to see the world, and to 
 lead a holiday kind of life away from their farms for a 
 twelvemonth, there was a very large sprinkling of 
 prodigal sons and ne'er-do-weels. 
 
 As aids to the Captain, who was an experienced 
 backwoodsman, two or three Lieutenants, of like 
 qualifications and credit, were added ; and a medical 
 man, — the very reverse of our scientific querulous 
 companion in the former part of our tour, — being a 
 man of a thousand ; of sound mind and body ; and 
 moreover an excellent marksman, and fully accustomed 
 to the life of hap-hazard and adventure we wore prose- 
 cuting. The men carried rations for a certain number 
 of days, after which it was expected that we should 
 come within the Buffalo-range, and amply provide 
 ourselves there with the necessary food. 
 
 The camp, on our arrival, formed a strange wild 
 scene. The hunters had been successful, and nine 
 deer were added to the stock of provisions. The bee- 
 hunters also had been on the alert, and eighteen bee- 
 trees were discovered, cut down, and rifled of their 
 hoard of sweets : besides, turkeys and smaller game 
 were plentiful in the vicinity of the camp, — so that 
 abundance reigned there. 
 
THE BEE Camp. 
 
 Groups were seen on every hand, among the tram- 
 pled thicket, and in the midst of the labyrinth of pea- 
 vine, brush, green-briar, and other creepers, engaged 
 in some chosen occupation ; drying venison, preparing 
 the skins, mending their accoutrements, firing at a 
 mark, or casting balls; and, when night set in, the 
 scene presented by the huge blazing watch-fires in the 
 deep forest, was not the less striking and beautiful. 
 
 The reveille was sounded at early dawn, and by sun- 
 rise our long line put itself in motion, proceeding at a 
 slow, even pace, through brake and bush, and over 
 rocky hill and prairie. According to the usage of the 
 country, we travelled in Indian file, one following the 
 other, and never abreast, thus indicating our line of 
 march by a narrow, deeply indented trail across the 
 country. Our course was much to the north of west, 
 and lay over a line of wooded hills, rough on the sides 
 and summits with fragments of sandstone, and of con- 
 siderable elevation above the deep bed of the river to 
 our left. We left the Bald Hill, a notable saddle- 
 shaped eminence, rising from an elevated plateau, 
 about half a mile to the right ; and about three o'clock 
 in the afternoon, struck the Arkansas again. Its hue 
 was here of a deep red, and the stream, apparently 
 about half a mile in breadth, flowed with a rapid 
 whirling current among shoals and sand-bars. On its 
 long sweep of sandy beach, we noticed the track of in- 
 numerable elk, bears, turkeys, and racoons ; and were 
 glad to perceive that the flood of the preceding week 
 was gradually subsiding. Our camp was pitched in a 
 rich hollow in the forest, at a convenient distance from 
 the river. Here we killed our first elk, besides other 
 game. 
 
 It would not answer any purpose for me to sketch 
 each succeeding day's proceedings, though I delight 
 to retrace every step in fancy. However, the next 
 day was too important in the history of our enterprise, 
 not to claim a short notice. I have already alluded to 
 the general purposes of the expedition. The more 
 detailed orders received at the garrison, directed the 
 
144 
 
 THE FORD. 
 
 Captain to cross the Arkansas at or near its point of 
 junction with the Red Fork, flowing from the south- 
 ward, and then to ascend the valley of the latter river 
 for a given distance. 
 
 As nothing was known of the ford, the attempt at 
 crossing had been looked forward to with no small in- 
 terest. 
 
 By calculating the distance already traversed, since 
 we left the agency, up to the commencement of this 
 day's march, it was surmised we must now be within 
 a few leagues of the point of junction; but for a few 
 hours we were obliged in proceeding, to keep wide of 
 the river, over a range of wooded sandstone hills, in 
 order to overcome the obstacle to a more direct course, 
 which presented itself, in a very high rocky promon- 
 tory. From the heights above it, however, we caught 
 a view of the whole country for many miles round, 
 including a glimpse of the river of which we were in 
 search. 
 
 The Red Fork appeared worthy of its name, pour- 
 ing down into the main river at our feet, a turbid 
 bright red stream, broken by wide level sand-bars and 
 mud-banks. We soon struck into an old Indian trail, 
 and descending into the entangled jungle to the north 
 of the promontory, gained the densely wooded bank 
 of the Arkansas again. Here several halts were made 
 for consultation, and after many trials as to the prac- 
 ticability of effecting our passage, it was found that 
 the river in the immediate vicinity of its tributary, was 
 extremely turbid and deep, and it was therefore con- 
 sidered advisable to ascend higher in search of a ford. 
 
 While we were breaking our way through the en- 
 tangled brushwood, it happened that our approach 
 roused a poor skunk from his noontide slumber under 
 a fallen tree. His destruction was speedily effected 
 by Tonish and Beatte, not however before it had 
 avenged itself by filling the air with such a subtle and 
 fetid odour as was almost beyond human endurance. 
 Considerable wrath was excited among the more deli- 
 cately-nosed portion of the party by this procedure, 
 
THE FORD. 
 
 145 
 
 though the feeling was mingled with surprise on observ- 
 ing that after having been divested of its skin, the ani- 
 mal was appended to the saddle of Beatte as a welcome 
 addition to his next supper. He was in a wayward 
 humour, and while Tonish, — who usually arrogated to 
 himself the credit of every valuable capture, — was ex- 
 citing the appetite of my curious comrade with a 
 descent upon its peculiar delicacy, he pushed forward 
 to his place at the head of the line, without offering 
 either explanation or apology. Some how or other, 
 the skunk never made its appearance at table ; and 
 upon inquiry it was ascertained, that in the midst of 
 the bustle consequent upon the passage of the river, it 
 had disappeared in a most unaccountable manner, and 
 though hunted for by Beatte with the same eagerness 
 as a cat will hunt for a mouse which may have escaped 
 after having been long in her possession, was not to 
 be found. We had a shrewd suspicion that our friend 
 Irving, whose spite against the dead animal had been 
 concentrated and uncompromising, knew more about 
 the disappearance than he chose to publish. We never 
 fairly brought him to his confession ; but from a sly 
 twinkle of the eye, and restlessness about the muscles 
 of the lips, whenever the subject was mentioned, I have 
 no doubt but he was the delinquent, and that some day 
 the truth will out. I may still mention that, as we all 
 got considerably less refined, and more savage in our 
 tastes, in a week or ten days' time this Indian delicacy 
 was several times served up at our mess without rais- 
 ing any great disturbance. 
 
 After a farther advance of two or three miles with 
 no inconsiderable toil, appearances being more favour- 
 able, another halt was proclaimed. The river was here 
 about a quarter of a mile wide. Beatte made the essay, 
 and it was seen that the passage might be effected with 
 a swim of perhaps a dozen yards in the middle. As 
 it was doubtful whether we should better ourselves 
 by farther advance, the captain finally resolved to 
 attempt the passage at this spot. The men were 
 ordered to prepare rafts for their arms and baggage, 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
146 
 
 THE FORD. 
 
 and to swim their horses as they might. All the axes 
 were put in immediate requisition. While the forest 
 was echoing to the first strokes of the axe ever heard 
 in this solitude, and all hands were busied with hurried 
 preparations for what threatened to be in the opinion 
 of the rangers a doubtful and laborious piece of ser- 
 vice, Beatte, Tonish, and Antoine were occupied with 
 their own peculiar schemes and projects for the speedy 
 passage of our effects. I might still smile at recollect- 
 ing my own surprise, and that of divers of the rangers 
 in my vicinity, when, ten minutes after the resolution to 
 cross was announced, I scrambled through the brush 
 to the brink of the river, with my saddle and other ac- 
 coutrements which I had been preparing for transpor- 
 tation, and descried a pile of our effects already on the 
 level sands of the opposite shore, while our three half 
 savages were to be seen swimming, whooping, and 
 yelling in mid-current round a buffalo skin which they 
 had quickly transformed into a canoe, by simply tying 
 up the ends, and putting light sticks athwart the open- 
 ing, to make it keep its shape. Into this clever make- 
 shift they continued to tumble every thing in turn~ 
 saddles, pack-saddles, provisions, clothing, tent, and 
 guns, and, in fine, in six or seven crossings, brought all 
 dry to the opposite shore, crowning their labours 
 during the last two trips by seating the commissioner 
 and Mr. Irving in turn on the top of the load, and 
 landing them safe and sound on the right bank. 
 
 Meanwhile, with the exception of the captain and- -^^^^ 
 the doctor, who were close at hand working dog- 
 gedly upon their raft, we were left alone, for the news 
 having been brought of the discovery of a yet better 
 ford, half a mile higher up, all the rangers had repaired 
 thither ; thus Pourtales and myself, after seeing that 
 we could be of no assistance, and having confided 
 every superfluous article about us to the care of the 
 canoe party, jumped on the bare backs of our horses, 
 and followed their trail, eventually crossing, half 
 wading and half swimming, as others had done before 
 us. 
 
THE BEAR'S GLEN. 
 
 147 
 
 The whole scene was highly picturesque, as you 
 looked upon the river, gliding at the base of a range of 
 high rocky hills, with the thick forests arrayed in the 
 glorious hues of autumn, and saw the bright flame- 
 coloured sands sprinkled by groups of horsemen and 
 piles of baggage. 
 
 The day was altogether one of considerable excite- 
 ment, and when, toward the close, we found ourselves 
 snugly encamped among the trees in a most romantic 
 dell, surrounded by precipitous rocks, which, from the 
 abundant signs afforded of our having dislodged a 
 number of those animals, we called the Bear's Glen, 
 we felt both happy and thankful that this first difficulty 
 had been fortunately overcome without serious deten- 
 tion or accident. 
 
 I remember strolling with my gun over the head of 
 the hill to the left, as the sun went down, throwing his 
 golden light over the valley of the Arkansas, and think- 
 ing our position one of uncommon beauty and romance. 
 We seemed to be once more in a hilly region. To 
 the north-west a deep dun smoke on the horizon beto- 
 kened the burning prairies and the presence of the 
 Indian in that quarter, while directly below me, in the 
 twilight of the deep shaded glen, the camp-fires were 
 gleaming red beneath their wreaths of smoke, and the 
 voices of the rangers, and the bells of the horses, rose 
 to the ear. 
 
 On calling the muster-roll after dark, all the human 
 beings belonging to the party were present ; but Mr. 
 Irving's horse, one or two of our pack-horses, and a 
 few others belonging to the rangers were missing ; and 
 as several of them were reported to have been descried 
 in the dusk, floundering in the mud of a deep creek on 
 the other side of the river, we were not without our 
 fears for their safety. Whatever the morrow might 
 betide, we knew that this day's labours were at an end, 
 and soon terminated it by lying down on our bear-skins 
 before the fire. 
 
 Beatte was up at early dawn, and over the river 
 with Antoine, The former returned soon after sun- 
 
148 
 
 COOKING CAMP. 
 
 rise with all the horses that were missing belonging to 
 our mess. The latter, who had gone off in search of 
 them in another direction, did not overtake us till the 
 following morning. On returning to the Bear's Glen, 
 with some of the rangers, from his fruitless quest after 
 the horses, a few hours after we had evacuated it, it 
 was found that the rightful possessors had begun to 
 resume their old quarters, grumbling no doubt most 
 heartily at the inconvenience they had been put to, to 
 make way for such saucy and thankless intruders. 
 Poor fellows ! they were badly remunerated for the 
 use of their lodgings, for two were straightway killed, 
 and the laggards came up loaded with their venison. 
 
 They found us encamped in a little secluded penin- 
 sula, formed by a creek ^n the vicinity of the Red 
 Pork. The stream as it strayed from one deep clear 
 pool, over broken rock and tangled grass, to another 
 within high banks, formed a kind of natural entrench- 
 ment for us. 
 
 From this point, a few of the party who were inva- 
 lids, were allowed to retrace their steps to the Fort, 
 from which we might now be about one hundred miles 
 distant. From the banks of the Arkansas we had tra- 
 versed a number of elevated ridges, partly open prairie, 
 and partly covered with forest, from the crest of which 
 we often surveyed a most extensive horizon. 
 
 Four deer and an elk having been killed the even- 
 ing of our arrival, and large troops of the latter seen, 
 it was proposed to rest a day here and hunt. So, what 
 between our proportion of the bears' meat, and other 
 venison, and abundance of turkeys and fresh provi- 
 sion brought in the following day, — messes No. 1 and 
 No. 2 were plenteously supplied during the day of 
 rest, (Oct. 17th) and the whole camp appeared like a 
 kitchen. Man has been defined as a ' cooking animal,' 
 and in that particular clearly distinct from any other on 
 the face of the globe. There could be no doubt of 
 our belonging to the race ; for continual trussing and 
 spitting, drying and smoking, carving and cooking, 
 was the order of the day of repose. We found that 
 
THE RANGERS. 
 
 149 
 
 we all belonged to the hunter tribe, and that there was 
 to be no medium between a feast and a fast. 
 
 My next shall give you some further sketch of the 
 organization of our party, and details connected there- 
 with. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 You will have supposed, without my having per- 
 haps expressly mentioned it, that, when in camp, our 
 trio, with the commissioner and our several attendants, 
 formed a separate mess, having but little connection 
 with the others, but such as friendly courtesy and our 
 association as fellow-adventurers dictated. 
 
 From the moment the signal for encampment was 
 given, to the bugle-call that gave notice of our morn^ 
 ing departure, we were in fact as much chez nous, as 
 though we had inhabited separate houses. We were 
 dependant upon our own arrangements for comfort, 
 and upon our success, or rather 1 should say upon that 
 of our retainers, for our supplies of provisions, beyond 
 those few necessaries, or luxuries if you will, that we 
 contrived to carry with us. The captain and his offi- 
 cers formed also a mess apart, and ordinarily pitched 
 their camp-fire a dozen yards or so from our own. 
 The men were divided, according to friendship or 
 fancy, into ten or a dozen parties, each having its own 
 rations, and an equal share of the venison which thq 
 hunters, appointed in rotation, brought into camp. 
 
 You will also, perhaps, have understood, with re- 
 gard to the Rangers, that, though in the pay of gov- 
 ernment, neither the officers, nor the men, were con- 
 sidered to belong to any class of regular troops ; and 
 that neither one nor the other had any great idea of 
 military discipline. 
 
 To keep the file, when on march ; never to leave 
 the camp without express permission, and to obey the 
 
 13* ^ 
 
150 
 
 THE RANGERS. 
 
 general orders, was all that the captain required : and 
 considering this to have been the case, I am astonished 
 at the almost unbroken good conduct of such a number 
 of young men, brought together with no very definite 
 idea of what it was to submit their will to that of a 
 superior, or of the necessity which teaches men the 
 value of discipline. As it was, we heard and saw noth- 
 ing bordering on either insubordination or coercion. 
 They were for the most part sons of substantial farm- 
 ers and settlers, and some certainly accustomed from 
 their earliest years to study the craft of a backwoods- 
 man. Such was Ryan, a fine old man, who, out of 
 love to the hunter's life, had joined the expedition and 
 the messes of those far younger and less experienced 
 than himself. He was a fine specimen of that race for 
 which the frontier has been celebrated ever since Dan- 
 iel Boone led the way across the mountains. He had 
 begun to hunt and kill the deer, when yet so young 
 that his father's rifle had to be supported upon his little 
 shoulder by both hands ; when the paternal hunting- 
 pocket hung far under his loins, and when he had to 
 get upon a tree stump to ram the ball home. 
 
 A dozen of the men, perhaps, turned out really good 
 hunters ; and, in the skilful use of the rifle, might do 
 justice to the fame which has been earned by the back- 
 woodsman. 
 
 The whole science of rifle-shooting, and the rifles in 
 use in America, are so different from those of Europe, 
 and of Switzerland and the Tyrol in particular, that 
 you can hardly draw a comparison between the merits 
 of the rival parties. The rifle of central Europe is a 
 much heavier weapon, and carries a much heavier ball, 
 — not unfrequently twenty to the pound. The groov- 
 ing is deeper, and a greater degree of force necessary 
 for the introduction of the ball. Skill in its use con- 
 sists rather in hitting a man or an animal at three hun- 
 dred paces, than in cutting the jugular vein with cer- 
 tainty at fifty feet. The American weapon is, perhaps, 
 as long or longer, carrying generally a small ball of 
 eighty, or of even one hundred to the pound. It ad- 
 
THE RANGERS. 
 
 151 
 
 mils the ball being sent home from the very muzzle 
 by a mere rod ; and is further peculiar in there being 
 no kind of attention paid to balancing the length and 
 weight of the barrel by the size and make of the stock. 
 Practice alone will teach you to hold it with ease to 
 yourself. There is a great deal more coquetry dis- 
 played in the use of the American rifle ; and the nicety 
 with which an object may be struck at fifty or a hun- 
 dred feet by a knowing hand is undoubtedly extraor- 
 dinary. 
 
 The Captain, the Doctor, and Ryan, were, perhaps, 
 the best shots of the party. But still, a word of the 
 Rangers. I have told you that the military duties 
 were not severe. With the exception of the sentinels, 
 of whom three or four were commonly posted round 
 the camp, more for the sake of keeping up an air of 
 discipline at this period of the expedition, than from 
 any real necessity for such a precaution, — from the 
 moment their horses were hobbled, and sent hopping 
 into the adjoining forest, to the hour preceding depar- 
 ture, when they had to be sought for and brought into 
 camp, — the men had their time to themselves. A large 
 portion was spent in eating and sleeping, and the ex- 
 citement incident to our position made some portion fly 
 fast, yet sufficient remained upon their hands to render 
 its occupation no easy matter. Books they had none ; 
 they were neither botanists, nor humorists, nor admi- 
 rers of the picturesque ; so when neither their horses, 
 nor persons, nor accoutrements demanded further atten- 
 tion, they had little to do, you will think, but to lie on 
 their backs, and look up at the sky, or at the burning 
 logs. Far from it. We found before we had been a 
 week in the camp, that the most decided appetite of 
 barter, or as it was termed ' swopping,' had descended, 
 or I should perhaps say, arisen among them ; and this 
 increased to a perfect contagion. It was a never-failing 
 source of amusement to the lookers-on, in messes No. 
 1, and No. 2, to see the daily metamorphoses that took 
 place. Nothing but the actual person seemed to be 
 exempt from the influence of swopping. Horses, sad- 
 
152 
 
 THE RANGERS. 
 
 dies, rifles, clothes of every kind, exchanged masters, and 
 you could never be certain of an individual till you 
 sa.w his face. There was a notable green blanket-coat 
 which was borne forth from the garrison on the back 
 of a man named Guess, whom I had hired, as orderly, 
 to take charge of my spare horse, and which, before 
 we reached the Fort on our return, bad clothed the 
 shoulders of half the Rangers in succession. Though 
 in general we were considered beyond the influence of 
 this epidemic, on one occasion I had it offered to me 
 by a Ranger, who took a fancy to my buckskin hunt- 
 ing-shirt, and wished to beguile me into a swop. — 
 Many tales reached our ears of the superior cunning 
 and calculation of divers among them ; but of these I 
 will only mention the case of one man who was con- 
 tinually swopping his horse, and on our return to Fort 
 Gibson, possessed the very animal he had started with, 
 and sixty dollars into the bargain. I need not indicate 
 from what part of the Union such a sly fox must have 
 come. One or two of the older and steadier rangers 
 kept aloof out of the vortex, and among these Ryan, 
 and a comical old fellow, the butt of the troop, of the 
 name of Sawyer. He was one of those strange mix- 
 tures of simplicity and shrewdness that you sometimes 
 meet with. Dame nature seems every now and then 
 to turn out a few individuals made up of scraps and 
 leavings ; some as far as their physique is concerned, 
 others as to the intellect : and in the same manner as 
 you may have noted a man here and there whose 
 head, feet, and hands were evidently intended for a 
 personage of large dimensions, while the trunk might 
 be puny, disproportioned, and insignificant — in the 
 same manner the most inconsistent and incongruous 
 ingredients seem to have been thrown together to fash- 
 ion the minds of certain individuals. Sawyer generally 
 asked for a furlough three times a day when in camp, 
 and was celebrated for losing himself, and spending 
 the night nobody knew where. He was used as a 
 * cat's-paw' by the men, whenever they wished to pry 
 into the plans and designs of the oflScers. 
 
LIFE BEYOND THE SETTLEMENTS. 
 
 153 
 
 As to ourselves, we had amusement and excite- 
 ment enough without swopping-. We had agreed 
 from the outset, that as the three domestics had 
 their hands full with the care of the general dispo- 
 sition of our affairs while in camp, and the charge 
 of loading and unloading pack-horses, that each of 
 us should continue to look to his own steed — un- 
 saddling and hobbling him in the first instance, and 
 when brought into camp the following morning, 
 taking off the vile hobbles and preparing him for 
 the start. There was no hardship in this, if I ex- 
 cept unhobbling, as the knot with which the feet 
 were strongly secured, during the course of a long 
 night spent in hopping through the damp grass, 
 became often hard as iron, and as wet as a sponge ; 
 and many a time have I begun to lose my equanimity, 
 and been on the point of using my knife, after five 
 minutes were thrown away with alternate application 
 of teeth and fingers, vainly attempting to unloose 
 the Gordian tie. For the rest, all seemed to inspire 
 pleasure ; and when we subsequently met in the 
 gay saloons of the eastern cities, we often recalled 
 those days of adventure and light heartedness. 
 
 We had left the busy world to the eastward seeth- 
 ing like a caldron with excitement. To the or- 
 dinary bustle and stir of a people straining with 
 soul and body for the acquisition of wealth — that 
 attendant upon the pending election of a President, 
 and the presence of that fearful scourge, the cholera, 
 which had just then reached the line of the western 
 waters, was added. Here, alone, in the midst of the 
 great wilderness, we moved day by day ; lay down 
 at night, and rose in the morning in peace and quiet. 
 We were like a vessel moored in a sheltered haven, 
 within the breakers, and out of the reach of the tem- 
 pest raging in the open sea. Those who have never 
 moved out of the narrow sphere in which all is arti- 
 ficial ; where'^the possession of much makes the at- 
 tainment of more an absolute necessity ; where 
 luxuries appear to be necessaries ; — can hardly con- 
 ceive^ how little is in reality essential, not only for 
 
154 LIFE BEYOND THE SETTLEMENTS. 
 
 existence, but for contentment ; or what a pliant and 
 easily moulded mind and body we possess. Get only- 
 over your prejudice and try, and there are thou- 
 sands of so-called comforts that you can do without 
 — and of things which you can do for yourself. 
 
 I look back with peculiar delight to our mode of life, 
 and our intercourse with a few trusty friends, on these 
 and our succeeding autumnal wanderings. Both were 
 spent far away beyond the noise and bustle of the great 
 highways of existence. Surely, without having expe- 
 rienced it, you can find excuse for my enthusiasm. 
 
 Our connection with the world being cut off, we en- 
 joyed a perfect absence of annoyance from without. 
 The year was too far advanced for insect plagues, at 
 the same time that the season was so mild and genial 
 that, with few exceptions, our tent was thrown aside 
 as useless. 
 
 To quit one trampled and despoiled camp just when 
 the morning light began to reveal its loss of beauty, 
 and turning our faces toward the west with the assur- 
 ance that, please God, though none could say where, 
 we should find another place of repose in the day's 
 decline in all its pristine loveliness; — to hold our march 
 hour after hour over the untrodden waste, or through 
 the forest — now breaking our way through a thick 
 grove, then breathing the free air of the open prairie, 
 or the scented brake of mint and sumac — beguiling the 
 hours in conversation, and losing sight of the mono- 
 tony of the scenery presented for weeks to our view, in 
 the excitement afforded by the constant lookout for 
 game, or speculation upon the trails of the Indians 
 now and then fallen in with — who they were — of what 
 tribe — hostile or friendly — when they passed ; — to 
 watch the fleet course of the startled deer over the un- 
 dulating prairie — or to listen to the wailing cry of the 
 cranes above our heads, descried like so many white 
 specks floating in the blue ether; finally, to choose our 
 new abode in the tall deep forest by the river side, or 
 among those exquisite groups on the higher grounds, 
 where the forest merges into the prairie, and forms 
 landscapes teeming with all the charming varieties of 
 
LIFE BEYOND THE SETTLEMENTS. I55 
 
 English park-scenery — was not all this delightful ? 
 Andj when the little share of toil and care which fell to 
 the lot of each alike was concluded ; and the hours in- 
 tervening before sunset, which each passed as he list- 
 ed, were ended, — when each came dropping in from 
 his walk or the chase, and the fire grew momentarily- 
 brighter and brighter, as, enjoying our hunters' repast, 
 the twilight gloom settled down among the trees, — 
 when the evening tale and sober mirth were prolonged, 
 till each in turn stole to his chosen nook in the tall 
 grass, or on the thick leaves which the autumnal forest 
 shed — were not our pleasures equally simple and 
 guileless ? 
 
 The blessing of sound sleep seemed to be denied to 
 none who needed it : and yet I delighted to wake in 
 the stillness of the long night, and to rouse my spirit 
 from its lethargy ; to open my eyes upon the deep blue 
 sky, with its host of stars, over-head ; to glance upon 
 the dying fires and sleeping camp; to muse upon the 
 past and the present : to raise my heart to heaven ; 
 and, without taking care for the future, to bless God 
 for a portion of those sweet and healthful thoughts 
 which spring from a calm and contented spirit, and in- 
 cite my soul to gratitude for this lull and calm in the 
 midst of the heaving and restless sea of existence. 
 
 Previous to October 22d, when we crossed the Red 
 Fork, having proceeded about eighty miles up the 
 country on the left bank in a south-west direction, 
 — our advance was rather broken, and the numbers 
 of our company became diminished by divers among 
 the Rangers having been obHged to return eastward, 
 either through ill health or as bearers of despatches. 
 Five or six of the horses belonging to the men had 
 also taken it into their heads to hobble away from us, 
 so that our line was often a very straggling one, and 
 the laggards were more than once a whole day's 
 journey in the rear. 
 
 The character of the country thus far had been more 
 hilly than usual in these western regions. Along the 
 immediate banks of the river, rich alluvial bottoms 
 
156 THE PRAIRIES OF THE FAR WEST. 
 
 were ordinarily met with ; but the greater part of the 
 upper and open country was barren in the extreme ; 
 nothing but a scanty soil covering the bright red sand- 
 stone which frequently protruded to the surface, and ap- 
 peared strewed with pebbles of rich nodulous iron-ore. 
 
 For the first ten or twelve days of our march the 
 horses had found a sufficiency of pasturage in the 
 rich brakes of the lower ground, the pea-vine being still 
 plentiful, and the grass green and sweet. Deer were 
 also numerous, and smaller game ; and moreover the 
 men had been furnished with rations for a fortnight. 
 At or before the expiration of that term, they confident- 
 ly calculated upon reaching the buffalo-range, and 
 there procuring the necessary provisions for the prose- 
 cution of the enterprise and subsequent return ; so that 
 upon our coming in contact with the herds of that 
 animal, not only much of our anticipated gratification 
 depended, but even the success of the expedition. 
 
 As we advanced, therefore, deeper into the country 
 from the Arkansas, we looked out anxiously for some 
 indications of our vicinity to the buffalo ; and to this 
 object of constant speculation and attention, yet ano- 
 ther was added, and that was ^Pawnee-sign.' The 
 region into which we were now advancing might not 
 unaptly be termed the Debateable Land of this part of 
 the continent: an arena upon which parties of the hos- 
 tile tribes of the east and the west continually scouted 
 in pursuit oYthe buffalo and elk, which they accounted 
 common property, and to earn their claim to the war- 
 eagle's feather, the skunk-skin, and the necklace of 
 grisly bears' claws of the warrior, by the bringing 
 away the scalps of those whom they meet and can sur- 
 prise. Few years pass but blood is shed upon these 
 deserts, and many a spot is marked by the scenes of 
 Indian surprise and unprovoked murder, or by the still 
 more fearful harvest of revenge and retaliation. From 
 the Osage, Creeks, and Cherokees, of course we had 
 nothing to fear, however they might no wand then shed 
 each otfier's blood. Their interests are too nearly in- 
 volved with that of the Pale-face, for them to meditate 
 
THE PAWNEES. 
 
 157 
 
 further wrong than perhaps the theft of a stray horse. 
 But with the Pawnee, who would appear to be the Arab 
 of the West, whose hand is against every one, from their 
 far settlements on the tributaries of the Missouri to the 
 Great Red River, — and with the bands of the Comman- 
 ches, who make incursions into the same plains from the 
 Mexican border, the case was different. These tribes 
 differ from those near the Mississippi in many res- 
 pects ; and though, from their less frequent intercourse 
 with Europeans, they are seldom found to be furnished 
 with fire-arms, and are in so far less formidable, yet 
 the excellence of their horses, the celerity of their move- 
 ments, and their personal address and numbers, give 
 them advantages which the others have not. In their 
 roving existence north and south, as they follow the 
 trail of the immense herds of buffalo in their annual 
 migration, they are often found six or seven hundred 
 miles from their villages ; and in seeking the one, you 
 always run a chance of falling in with the other. It 
 may occur to you, that even if we fell in with a horde 
 of a few hundreds of them, a body of sixty armed men, 
 under proper disciphne, would have little to fear from 
 their hostility ; yet, setting aside the danger of surprise, 
 there were contingent circumstances, which, if not po- 
 sitively as disagreeable and dangerous as losing a fight 
 and coming immediately into their power, might even- 
 tually prove nearly as bad. Such would be the loss of 
 any number of our horses, the murder of the stragglers 
 and hunters, when our very numbers would be against 
 us rather than for us, especially at this advanced sea- 
 son. So you may well imagine that our scouts did 
 right to use their eyes, and that singular intelligence 
 which is taught by a hfe of constant exposure to want 
 and danger ; and that the higher we advanced up the 
 country the more interest was attached to Indian trails, 
 marks of Indian encampments, and any moving speck 
 upon the vast rolling prairie around us. 
 
 As to the buffalo, our eagerness to fall in with him 
 increased day by day. Its habits are well known, and 
 I need hardly tell you that the vulgar name is a misno- 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
158 
 
 THE BISON. 
 
 mer, as this animal differs in many essential points from 
 either the Itahan or the African species of urus bear- 
 ing it. The hump on the shoulders, the mane and beard, 
 and the form of the horns, which are short and sharp, 
 all distinguish the bison of America from the other 
 species, not to speak of anatomical distinctions. They 
 were now known to be moving from the north, whither 
 their vast herds had followed the genial growth of the 
 fresh grass, as it sprung up under one degree of lati- 
 tude after another, and to be repairing to the southern 
 rivers and plains to seek their winter food. 
 
 Like the Indian, they too have had to forsake their 
 original domains and retire into the waste. Anciently, 
 they were known to have roamed over the western parts 
 of the State of New York. At the time that the first 
 adventurers crossed the Alleghany, sixty years ago, 
 the rich forests and cane-brakes of Kentucky and Ten- 
 nessee swarmed with them. Now there is not one to 
 be found east of the Mississippi : and as man has pen- 
 etrated, year by year, hundreds of miles to the west- 
 ward, so the bison has fled his presence, and yearly 
 interposes a good hundred miles between its pathway 
 and the nearest settlements, in contradistinction to the 
 ' white man's fly,' as the Indian terms the bee, which is 
 said always to move in advance of the encroaching Pale- 
 face. A very few years back, and the bison might be met 
 with and killed in the centre of the Arkansas Terri 
 tory ; but we had now advanced a hundred miles be- 
 yond its remotest limit, and had not yet met with them. 
 Their jealousy of the approach of man is no safeguard 
 to them ; and their vast strength and fierceness when 
 attacked are of no avail against the perseverance and 
 means of annoyance of their numerous enemies. The 
 Indians, the trapper, and the white hunter, kill thou- 
 sands yearly. The wolves hunt the straggling cows 
 and calves in packs. Nearer the mountains the grisly- 
 bear fattens upon their flesh ; but as yet their numbers 
 appear undiminished and undiminishable. Ten thou- 
 sand in a single drove have frequently been seen 
 further west toward the head- waters of the Arkansas ; 
 
THE PRAIRIES OF THE FAR WEST. 159 
 
 and their trample and roaring, when pursued, is said 
 to shake the earth long before they are seen, and to fill 
 the air with a sound like distant thunder. 
 
 How it is, that an enterprising people like the Amer- 
 icans have not long ago domesticated this animal, and 
 crossed the breed of European cattle, is to me a mys- 
 tery. However frequently asserted, we never heard 
 of a well-accredited instance of its being attempted 
 successfully. 
 
 But to resume the history of our adventures and 
 achievements : 
 
 Two days before we crossed the Red Fork, the re- 
 cent signs of the bison, which had hitherto been very 
 dubious, became more and more evident, frequent, and 
 certain; and at length the joyful report of a few bulls 
 and wild horses having been actually seen, was brought 
 into camp by some of the stragglers. Dung, bones, 
 and innumerable hoof-inarks^ were first descried ; then 
 hollow places in the plains, where the animals had wal- 
 lowed ; then, tracts of many acres where thousands had 
 trampled and crowded for years in their passage, allured 
 by a spring or a salt-lick, appeared depressed far below 
 the general level of the country. At the same time, 
 Beatte proclaimed ' Pawnee-sign/ and for the first time, 
 by way of precaution, the horses were tied up at night, 
 and the sentinel began to find that he must not doze on 
 his post, as he had hitherto done as a matter of course. 
 
 The following day, after traversing apparently inter- 
 minable prairies, furrowed by the deep straight trails 
 of the bison, which, with the tokens of mounted Indians 
 having been on their traces, kept us on the ' qui vive^ 
 all day, we collected our scattered party towards even- 
 ing in a deep-wooded copse, and prepared to ford the 
 adjoining river early the following morning ; passing 
 the remaining hours of daylight in some kind of general 
 preparation— cleaning our arms, melting balls, and 
 listening with m.ore than even usual indulgence to the 
 egotistical rhapsodies of Tonish, which always ended 
 w^ith a huge indefinite promise for the future, couched 
 in the words : * Ah, qu-qu-que vous verez /' 
 
160 
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. 
 
 It was amusing to see the effect of the life we were 
 leading, and the company we were associated with, on 
 the spirits of the most peaceable among us. There was 
 the good, kind-hearted commissioner, whose career had 
 never been stained up to the present time by act of 
 violence to beast or bird, girding himself in his own 
 quiet way for the expected rencontre with biped or 
 quadruped savages, and breathing destruction to the 
 innocent skunks and turkeys. There too was to be 
 seen our friend Irving — the kindly impulse of w^hose 
 nature is to love every living thing — ramming a couple 
 of bullets home into a brace of old brass-barrelled pis- 
 tols which had been furnished him from the armory at 
 Fort Gibson, with a flourish of the ramrod, a compres- 
 sion of the lip, and a twinkle of the eye, which decidedly 
 betokened mischief. As to my comrade, incited by the 
 marvellous tales of Tonish, it was dangerous to hunt in 
 a jungle with him, such was his anxiety to have a shot 
 at the bison. 
 
 You may recollect I mentioned in a former letter, a 
 certain double-barrelled fowling-piece which the com- 
 missioner had brought away from a government agent 
 on the Missouri. It had kept us company ever since, 
 going among us usually by the name of ' Uncle Sam,' 
 such was the soubriquet given by the Americans to the 
 General Government, from the usual initials U. S. or 
 United States, affixed upon government property. 
 
 It was a piece of respectably ancient mould and fa- 
 bric, about four inches across the breech^ and two at 
 the muzzle ; and, when its old-fashioned locks were at 
 full-cock, looked sufficiently formidable, from tfie man- 
 ner in which they appeared strained to the uttermost, 
 lying down upon their backs previous to taking the 
 spring. Hitherto, however, it had been the most inno- 
 cent piece in the whole troop. At the time we got 
 possession of it, it had been found to be in a most ridi- 
 culous state of repletion, being full of successive charges 
 of powder and ball, and vice versa^ nearly to the muz- 
 zle. Being the property of the commonwealth, nobody 
 in particular had thought it his business to look after 
 
UNCLE SAM. 
 
 161 
 
 it. Three weeks prior to the time I commemorate, it 
 had been put into my hands in order to decide what 
 was the matter with it ; as, in spite of every appearance 
 of being heavily loaded, it obstinately refused to go off. 
 I had found three buck-shot under the powder in one 
 barrel, and a roll of dogwood shavings and tow in 
 the chamber of the other. How they came there no 
 one could tell ; but it appeared, that whoever had an 
 idle moment and nothing to occupy his fingers upon, 
 amused himself by ramming something or other down 
 into ' Uncle Sam.' Weil, this evening a bright thought 
 struck the commissioner ; the piece was straightway 
 poked out from among the baggage, where he had 
 been accustomed to see it, projecting like a stern-chaser 
 over the crupper of old Gombo, one of the baggage 
 horses, and serious intentions were evidently enter- 
 tained of using it against the buffalo or the Pawnees. 
 But to war against any living thing seemed to be quite 
 contrary to its principles. It was found again to be 
 heavily loaded, but again refused to go off. It was of 
 course without a ramrod. One of dogwood, and that 
 a crooked one, was manufactured for it by the patient 
 hands of the commissioner, which with great trouble 
 was inserted. It was yet with greater difficulty with- 
 drawn, and a good hour was passed in attempting to 
 make it disgorge a mass of unknown contents. At 
 length, having been put into some kind of trim, it was 
 included in the sum of effective weapons in the field, 
 and you shall not fail to hear of ' Uncle Sam's' further 
 adventures. 
 
 Just before we descended to covert from the higher 
 grounds, we had seen a wild horse dashing across our 
 line of march. It was the first we had met with, but, 
 however its appearance seemed to excite general atten- 
 tion at the time, after getting to camp, no more was 
 thought of it. The breed of horses which are scat- 
 tered in numbers over these plains, is a cross between 
 those introduced by the Spaniards and French, but 
 are, with single exceptions, rather a degenerate race 
 both in appearance and power. 
 
 14* 
 
162 THE WILD HORSE. 
 
 According to his custom, Beatte, after seeing that 
 his services could be dispensed with, disappeared, and 
 shortly after dark returned, to the great surprise of all, 
 with a wild horse in his lasso. He had dashed off on 
 the trail of that we had seen ; had crossed the Red 
 Fork, and met both with horses and a troop of bison. 
 He had run down one of the former in the dusk, noosed 
 him, detained him while his comrades fled deeper into 
 the wilderness, and succeeded in bringing him home 
 in triumph, much to the astonishment of the rangers, 
 by whom such a feat was hardly considered possible. 
 The captive was a pretty cream-coloured animal, with 
 flowing mane and tail^ and a large full eye, beaming 
 with terror and surprise, as well it might, at its unex- 
 pected loss of liberty, and introduction among the 
 camp-fires to the scene of so much noise and bustle. 
 
 The next morning, when the bugle gave order to 
 resume our Indian file, the * desert-born' appeared in 
 the midst of us, to begin his life of servitude. The 
 lasso was still round his neck. His eye, naturally full 
 of gentleness, dilated with terror whenever the fond 
 hands of the bystanders approached him ; and this 
 feeling seemed to be increased to agony, when the 
 captor succeeded in securing a light burden on his 
 back. But even to this sad alternative to perfect free- 
 dom, he yielded at last with a tolerably good grace, 
 after a few last groans, and a roll on the ground. I 
 believe that there was more than one amongst us v/ho 
 felt his sympathies strongly moved for the gentle crea- 
 ture, and heartily inclined to regret the capture. 
 
 Our passage of the Fork was made without delay 
 or accident, in spite of the deep red mud which formed 
 the bed of the river. We crossed on the trails of a 
 large herd of bison, w^hich seemed to have chosen the 
 same ford, and now stood on Pawnee ground. The 
 colour of this river [ have already alluded to. The 
 briny taste of its waters, as they poured down from a 
 region abounding, not only in salt springs, but in 
 masses of pure rock-salt, rendered it thoroughly un- 
 potable. 
 
THE CROSS TIMBERS. 
 
 163 
 
 Our direction was now to the southward, leaving the 
 course of the river tending much more to the west than 
 it had hitherto done. My next shall give you a con- 
 densed sketch of our proceedings to the close of the 
 ensuing week, when we halted in the vicinity of the 
 Great Canadian. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 The dark brown horizon which appeared before us 
 as we emerged from the deep bed of the river, was 
 known to be the Cross Timbers, a broad belt of dwarf 
 oak forest, rarely interrupted by prairie, extending 
 across the country, from the Red Fork to the Great 
 Canadian, in the direction of North and South. Its 
 mean breadth, by the report of the Indians, was twelve 
 or fourteen miles, and it was now our object to cross it 
 in a south-westerly direction. None of our party, 1 
 think, will ever forget that hilly stony region, with its 
 almost impenetrable forest of the closest and harshest 
 growth, whose low, rugged branches, black and hard as 
 iron with the alternate extremes of frost and fire, cost 
 us many a fierce scramble and struggle on our passage 
 both to and from the Canadian. 
 
 During the greater part of the first day, while skirt- 
 ing the Cross Timbers, we appeared to be in the line 
 of march of thousands of bison. The banks of the 
 Red Fork were in many places perfectly broken down 
 by their tracks, as, in long lines, one after the other, in 
 Indian file, they had proceeded southward. From 
 this time we continued to fall in with divers parties 
 of the stragglers, all males. On the evening of this 
 day, one circumstance broke in upon the monotony of 
 our proceedings. We had pitched our camp. In 
 doing this latterly, more attention had been paid to 
 the choice of a defensible position. As was my cus- 
 
164 
 
 THE CROSS TIMBERS. 
 
 torn after seeing my horse provided for, I was scout- 
 ing over the country at some distance from the camp, 
 about an hour before sundown, when I met the cap- 
 tain returning in great haste. He said he had reason 
 to believe that there were Indians in our neighbour- 
 hood, and urged my immediate return. The alarm 
 soon spread, and the scene of confusion which ensued 
 was amusing enough, as, in hasty preparation for a 
 fight, the horse-bells were instantly muffled, fires ex- 
 tinguished, arms prepared, and the horses brought in 
 and resaddled. An anxious uncertainty prevailed for 
 a few hours, till most of the stragglers came in ; and 
 it was believed, after comparing notes, that the cap- 
 tain and some of his own party had been dodging one 
 another in the misty haze, and thus the mistake had 
 arisen. However, a night alarm ensued by a sentinel 
 shooting, as he said, at a wolf, and I believe the panic 
 was of some use, as it made all parties more watchful 
 and alert. 
 
 We were now employed for several days in strug- 
 gling through the Cross Timbers. At the same time 
 matters began to change with us rather for the worse. 
 The encampment became poorer and poorer, aflfording 
 neither pasture for the horses, nor even water, in any 
 great quantity, and the little we found was generally 
 bad. We began to look after one of the thousands of 
 * sweet and curious brooks' which gush forth on the 
 Atlantic side of the Alleghany. We found no more 
 deer. The bison hitherto seen had been males only ; 
 and even when shot had been killed far from camp, so 
 that but little of the meat could be transported thither. 
 The supplies of fresh provision were therefore a little 
 irregular and uncertain. Of course, the rations brought 
 from the garrison had long ago disappeared. The 
 bears truly were plentiful and fat, from feeding upon 
 tlie rich harvest of acorns which covered the ground ; 
 but though as many as nine were seen in the vicinity of 
 one camp, they were a cowardly set, and'never waited 
 to be killed ; but slunk away among the entangled 
 brushwood, till out of sight, and then shambled off 
 
THE CROSS TIMBERS. 
 
 165 
 
 with their ungainly gallop, so that we had no chance of 
 another feast of bear's venison. But the most serious 
 matter after all, was the fact, that many of the horses 
 began to fail. Mr. Irving's strong and handsome bay 
 had sprained his shoulder before we crossed the Red 
 Fork, and had been, of necessity, abandoned. One 
 of my two steeds had been useless from indisposition 
 for many days. Two or three of the Rangers' horses 
 were irrecoverably lost, and among them, one, whose 
 master, having taken a fancy to hunt wild horses, had 
 the vexation to find himself thrown and abandoned 
 by his steed, while the latter galloped off to the desert 
 with the troop. In short, some of the party were 
 already on foot, and others were speedily threatened 
 with a like fate. 
 
 In the Cross Timbers themselves, no animal but the 
 bear could find sustenance. They w^ere, as I have 
 before said, composed almost entirely of oak, of which 
 I enumerated seven distinct species, besides varieties ; 
 from the diminutive pin-oak, bearing acorns at two 
 years growth, to the large-cupped burr-oak. Properly 
 speaking there was no undergrowth but a coarse grass. 
 From this iron-bound region, we generallycontrived to 
 escape towards night-fall, and to seek for a resting- 
 place in one of those spots of verdure in the valleys, 
 where the fading green and yellow foliage of the cot- 
 ton-wood poplar forming a pleasing contrast to the 
 leafless oak, and held out promise of our obtaining 
 the indispensable necessaries of wood and water. 
 
 In these little oases, we commonly found some rem- 
 nant of the riches of autumn, and burying ourselves 
 and our horses in the thicket, made our position as 
 comfortable as we could. 
 
 Besides the above-mentioned poplar, together with 
 hickory, walnut, and willows, and the black and honey- 
 locust, we found a rich undergrowth of dogwood, per- 
 simmon, haws, vines with sweet and sour grapes, 
 Chickasaw plums of various colours, sassafras, and 
 abundance of green-brier or tear-blanket, as it isfami- 
 
166 
 
 THE DESERTED CAMP. 
 
 liarly called — besides sumac, the delight of the bears 
 at this season. 
 
 Such a camp we occupied on the evening of the 
 twenty-fourth, and a beautiful one it was ; we killed in 
 its neighbourhood four buffalo bulls and twenty turkeys, 
 a piece of good fortune which we knew how to profit 
 by, and lighting our fires among the skeleton bowers 
 remaining from a large Osage camp of the preceding 
 year, we here spent a contented night, with the feeling, 
 that our horses would get at least one night's good 
 pasturage. 
 
 You will easily conceive, after the description I have 
 given you of the Cross Timbers, that we always hailed 
 the prospect of entering upon a tract of open prairie 
 with delight. 
 
 It was something to breathe the pure air, and have 
 before us one of the expanded views of the prairie, 
 upon whose surface every object was a matter of curi- 
 osity and speculation. Their hue, it is true, at this late 
 season, when the grass is dead, was one monotonous 
 brown — but there were variations produced by the 
 alternations of sun and shade, which were truly sublime 
 and beautiful. 
 
 The morning after we left the deserted Osage camp, 
 after two hours' most laborious struggle in the forest, 
 we came unexpectedly in sight of the North Fork of 
 the Canadian. The coup d'oeil was one of the most 
 peculiar I ever beheld. We saw before us a meadow 
 of about four miles long by one in breadth, bounded 
 towards the river by a gigantic grove of cotton-wood 
 trees indicating the course of the river. To the right 
 appeared a large troop of wild horses, and to the left, 
 towards the lower end of the prairie, were seen the 
 huge backs of a number of bison. Measures were im- 
 mediately taken to encircle the horses, one division of 
 the party proceeding up the prairie towards them, 
 under shelter of the woods, and another, of which my 
 companions and myself formed part, moving cautious- 
 ly in a long line .across towards the river. It was, 
 however, useless to attempt to take them by surprise ; 
 
THE NORTH FORK. 
 
 167 
 
 they were seen instantly to snuff the air, and burst off 
 towards the river. Their passagewas cut off in that 
 direction, when turning southward they rushed at the 
 top of their speed towards our scattered line, charged 
 it unmindful of our shouts, of course broke through it, 
 and were pursued by the whole party, pell-mell, towards 
 the lower end of the plain ; scudding down with them, 
 and for a moment entangled in the rout, I could not 
 avoid keeping my eye upon the buffaloes, to see what 
 they would decide upon doing. They seemed to have 
 been taking a nap, for they lay very quiet in the long 
 grass, till the tumult coming down from the upper part 
 of the prairie was within half a mile of them : when, 
 with more promptitude than I should have given them 
 credit for, they appeared to have made up their minds 
 that there was something more than ordinary in the 
 wind, and gaining their legs, began to shamble off 
 into the forest in such good earnest, that no one could 
 get a shot at them. When the race was terminated by 
 the horses gaining the wooded country, we found that 
 two of their number had been captured ; one of the 
 rangers having secured a fallen mare, while Tonish, 
 mounted on my friend's racer, old Crop, had actually 
 noosed a young foal ; an achievement which gave him 
 a subject for self-praise and self-esteem, for the rest of 
 the expedition. 'Ah ! qu-queje vous ai ditP reiterated 
 the vainglorious Tonish ! 
 
 On the 26th, we met a party of Osage warriors com- 
 ing back from a predatory expedition against the 
 Pawnees. Horse-stealing seemed to be more the ob- 
 ject of their adventure than scalps. They gave us to 
 understand that, as far as they knew, the Pawnees were 
 at present more to the southward, in the vicinity of 
 Red River; intimating that having been unsuccessful 
 in their buffalo hunt, they were suffering greatly from 
 famine, to alleviate which they had fed upon many of 
 their horses. 
 
 These thieving Osage warriors were fine looking 
 men, and much persuasion was used to tempt them to 
 turn back with us and be our guides, without success. 
 
168 
 
 THE WET CAMP. 
 
 The reasons they gave for preferring to go back to 
 their tribe, rather than repairing with us to hunt the 
 bison on the Big Prairie, and get presents of tobacco, 
 blankets, and vermiHon, were sensible enough. They 
 said if they did not return to their comrades, they 
 would be forthwith supposed dead ; their relations would 
 then shave their heads ; their squaws would remarry, 
 the chiefs take possession of their gear, and all that 
 would be a great misfortune. To this we had nothing 
 to say ; but gave them some tobacco, shook hands, 
 grunted our adieu in Indian fashion, and saw them no 
 more. They had directed us to bend our course more 
 to the S. S. W. and to gain the source of the creek 
 called the Grand Bayou, a tributary of the Great 
 Canadian, which we did ; and encamped early in a 
 very low, damp piece of ground, just contriving to get 
 our tent up, and our accoutrements under shelter, be- 
 fore the heavy rain which had long threatened, set in. 
 Every thing seemed to bode a long continuance of it. 
 The season had hitherto been most genial. It was at 
 once decided by our chiefs to remain in our present 
 position both this and the following day ; to rest the 
 horses, to send out scouts and hunters, and to arrange 
 the plans of the party for the return. To that we were 
 now imperatively urged to turn our thoughts. The 
 horses wanted food more than rest ; the pea-vine was 
 dead ; grass scarce, and likely to be more so, as we 
 knew that the prairies were on fire between us and the 
 garrison. As to pushing across the Great Canadian 
 to the Red River, that was utterly out of the question. 
 
 It was supposed that we could not now be far from 
 the former stream, and we confidently hoped that on 
 the Big Prairie, on its northern bank, we should be 
 enabled to lay in provisions for the return. 
 
 The evening and night of this first wet day, long as 
 they were, were soon over ; the former by din of hard 
 eating and conversation within the shelter of our tent ; 
 and the latter by twelve hours' unbroken sleep, such 
 as even a raccoon might have envied. 
 
THE WET CAMP. 
 
 169 
 
 In the course of the evening we were vastly enter- 
 tained by a visit from old Sawyer, who, by reason of 
 his age, his willingness to give a helping hand to our 
 half-breeds when needed, and the originality of his 
 character, was licensed beyond his fellows. 
 
 The Rangers, as was natural, began to look to their 
 officers for a decided change of plan, as their own com- 
 mon sense showed the impracticability of our proceed- 
 ing much deeper into the country in the present ad- 
 vanced state of the season ; and Sawyer was as usual 
 pushed forward to sound the intentions of the Commis- 
 sioner. Like most inordinately inquisitive people, he 
 thought his best way was to be very open-hearted and 
 communicative himself, and thereby to win us over to 
 his own humour. He accordingly, without provocation, 
 gave us the history of his wiiole life and former adven- 
 tures : — how he had, after sowing his wild oats, been 
 incited to turn a methodist, and remained such some 
 time, till seeing, as he expressed it, 'the error of his 
 wa}^,' lie had become shaking quaker, and so forth. The 
 first change was assuredly better than the second. I 
 am obliged to say, however, that all this ^penditure of 
 confidence elicited no sympathetic disclosures from our 
 quiet friend the Commissioner, and Sawyer at length 
 made a retreat to announce his discomfiture to his 
 comrades. 
 
 The following day we opened our eyes and senses 
 to the disagreeable certainty that we were to have yet 
 another day of unceasing rain ; and I assure you it 
 was quite long enough, and dreary beyond any thing 
 we had yet experienced. 
 
 Both Tonish and Beatte were sent out at an early 
 hour in one direction, to reconnoitre the country, and 
 to get provisions ; and the Captain with a comrade set 
 out in another with the same purposes. 
 
 As hour stole lazily after hour, the Camp became 
 more and more comfortless. To stir out of the tent 
 was to get both wet and covered with mud. The fires 
 burned without cheerfulness. The rivulet at our side 
 became a turbid yellow torrent. The Rangers lay 
 
 VOL. 1. 15 
 
170 
 
 THE WET CAMP. 
 
 swopping under their blanket awnings, Imitating, m 
 the intervals, to divert ennui, the cry of the birds of the 
 forest, the hooting of the owl, or the gobble of the tur- 
 key. Now and then a hasty stroke of the axe was 
 heard, as one or other of their number stole out to get 
 fresh fuel. The poor horses, instead of ranging far and 
 wide from tlie Camp, as at an earlier part of the jour- 
 ney, with bells tinkling merrily as they tore down the 
 succulent pea-vine^ now drew near the fires, and stood 
 nibbling and gnawing the bark of the trees. There 
 was my poor Sorrel, with a clouded yellow eye, and a 
 show of sharp ribs, suffering from a pleurisy — the very 
 picture of misery ! 
 
 As to the inhabitants of our tent,- — we lay watching 
 the preparations for breakfast like so many cats, and 
 when ready, devoured it like so many tigers. Pour- 
 tales was unwell, having indulged largely in the luxu- 
 ries of persimmons, sloes, skunks, and sour grapes, and 
 refused both medicine and comfort. In the intervals of 
 conversation^ the Commisioner sat the very image of 
 patience, and gave himself up to speculation. Mr. Ir~ 
 ving dozed by«fits and starts, or perused the only volume 
 of which our camp library was composed ; and between 
 whiles, peeped out from the folds of the tent upon the 
 groups around,, scanning the individuals composing 
 them with his own good-natured and humoursome eye^. 
 
 As to your capricious correspondent, what between 
 the use of pen and pencil, and to other modes of tem- 
 porary occupation, the mornlug stole away quicker than 
 could have been expected. I then, out of pure idleness^ 
 engaged in the praiseworthy operation of inquiry into 
 the disposition of ' Uncle Sam,' as, after doing wonders 
 these latter days, — wounding a dying bison, killing a 
 turkey and a skunk, he was again reported on the sick 
 list. And no wonder. By an overthrow he had been 
 filled up to the very muzzle with mud ; and after a good 
 hour's work, 1 succeeded in extracting three inches of 
 ramrod, and made him disgorge another load of ball^ 
 buck-shot, and wet powder. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to remark that the lateness of 
 
Tl^he wet camp. 
 
 171 
 
 tlie season, as well as our present mode of travelling", 
 precluded my adding to those collections of plants and 
 insects, which I had commenced at an earlier period, 
 and found a source of so much interest and amusement. 
 The only prizes now within my reach, were seeds, for 
 the reception of which I kept a bag at my saddle bow ; 
 and crammed into it pell-mell all that can^e in my way, 
 from those of the largest tree to that of the meanest 
 grass. 
 
 As to insects, all now were mute : even the grass- 
 liopper chirped no more, — the loquacious catydid had 
 sung his last song, — the wood-bug was dead or asleep, 
 and there w^as not even a musquito to sound his small 
 horn in our sleepy ears. 
 
 Towards night-fall, the various scouts came drop- 
 in g in, and at length Beatte and Tonish, loaded with 
 real bison meat, of the superexcellence of which we 
 had hitherto heard much, but had so far withheld our 
 opinion ; for it was not to be expected that the old 
 pursy bull-beef, which Tonish had served up to us, 
 was the best specimen, nor that we should sing the 
 praises of the meat w^iich we cou'd not masticate. But 
 here we had the choice pieces, the hump and ribs of the 
 fattest cows ; — and into the bargain a hunter's tale of 
 their having seen the Big Prairie, which, it appeared, 
 was close at hand, covered with herds of thousands 
 and thousands of bison and wild horses^ 
 
 ' Ah ! qu-qu-qu-que des bceitfs saucages I Ah ! qu'^ 
 qu-qu-vous verrez demain P screamed the delighted To- 
 nish, as sharpening a stick for a spit, he set inconti- 
 nently about preparing supper. 
 
 Had our pleasures not been consulted, necessity 
 would have obliged us to break out from our cover 
 the following morning, and move in search of another 
 camp; as by this time the low jungle, in which the 
 whole parly had been lying, soaked with rain for the 
 last forty hours, had become a perfect Slough of Des- 
 pond, and not a blade of grass was left. 
 
 We therefore merrily took our departure, and defiled 
 with our draggled train over the turbid stream, and up 
 
172 
 
 THE BIG PRAIRIE. 
 
 towards the higher country and the Big Prairie to the 
 southward. 
 
 I promised you a sketch of a bison chase, and you 
 shall now have one. I could not choose for descrip- 
 tion, the attack made by nearly the whole troop, upon 
 seven old bulls, reposing peaceably in a swamp, at 
 which, being a mile or two in their rear on the trail of 
 a bear, I was not present : — nor even that on the banks 
 of the North Fork, when, becoming entangled in a rout 
 of wild horses, the objects of our greatest ambition got 
 to covert, before any of the amateurs could fire a shot ; 
 but our hunt on the Big Prairie aforesaid, when we 
 fairly overtook the rearguard of the migratory herd, 
 afi'ords me the desired opportunity. 
 
 It was about noon, (Oct. 29th,) when, at the head 
 of the line, we got out of the wood,, and saw before us 
 the free and wide liorizon of the prairie. A long day's 
 journey was not in contemplation, as our main object 
 was now to hunt and cure sufficient beef to support us 
 on our return through a gameless country towards the 
 Fort ; and it was resolved to halt upon the first favoura- 
 ble spot upon the banks of one of the many tributary 
 creeks of the Grand B?iyou, arising on the Prairie, and 
 flowing north, and there to pitch camp. 
 
 Consequently, after an hour's advance, the Commis- 
 sioner, Washington Irving, Pourtales, and myself, ac- 
 companied by Beatte, agreed to draw off' from the main 
 body towards the Great Canadian, with a general idea 
 of the quarter in which we should eventually find our 
 companions and their camp. ^ 
 
 We had not ridden many miles before we discovered 
 divers groups of bison and wild horses, scattered at a 
 greater or less distance over the wide undulating sur- 
 face of the country. Beatte proposed that we should 
 halt, while he attempted to noose a horse out of a group 
 about two mWes to the westward of us ; and on the in- 
 stant, laying his rifle across the saddle of the Commisr* 
 sioner's horse, he dashed off* at a wild gallop, and soon 
 neared the herd ; when, after appearing and disappear- 
 ing alternately in mad career, as they fled over the bro- 
 
THE BISON CHASE. 173 
 
 ken surface, both the pursuer and the pursued were 
 finally lost sight of. We had m anwhile been moving 
 quietly forward on his trail, when, coming to one of 
 the hollows, filled with low bushes, frequent on the 
 edges of the prairie, two old bison bulls issued from 
 their covert and began to run up the opposite rise. 
 This was too great a temptation for Washington Irving 
 and Pourtales, who were a hundred feet in advance ; 
 and both, afier a moment's hesitation, gallopped after 
 them. My position was one of the most unenviable 
 constraint, as though burning with desire to follow, I 
 was withheld by a feeling of respect for the Commis- 
 sioner, by whose side I was riding, and who, at the same 
 time that he was no hunter, appeared burdened with 
 Beatte's rifle in addition to ' Uncle Sam.' However, 
 seeing my comrades disappear, my impatience got the 
 better of my sense of decorum, and begging ten thou- 
 sand pardons, 1 set spurs to my horse and dashed after 
 them. I remember comforting myself with the hope 
 that Beatte would return to him in a few minutes ; — • 
 but, however excusable, liad any harm come to our 
 worthy friend in consequence of my desertion, I should 
 never have forgiven myself. 
 
 In narrating the events of a battle or a hunt, every 
 man is, to a certain degree, of necessit}^ an egotist, for 
 the simple reason that he knows perfectly well his own 
 resolves and the part which he pla\s, and next to noth- 
 ing about those of his comrades. So I must make the 
 narrative of my own feelings and movements, the thread 
 w hereon to weave a notice of those of others. 
 
 A scamper of a mile over the broken surface of the 
 plain brought me in contact with one of the bulls just 
 mentioned, which had seemingly escaped pursuit by a 
 sidelong course. It appeared probable that neither of 
 my companio\is had as yet ventured near enough to 
 take effectual aim ; for though this powerful and terri- 
 ble animal will put forth all his strength to escape the 
 pursuit of man, yet, if brought to bay, or approached 
 too near, he is greatly to be dreaded in the moment of 
 savage ire and desperation ; and if great caution be nc^ 
 
 15* 
 
174 
 
 THE BISON CHASE. 
 
 used, by horse and rider, one or both may fall victims 
 to their temerity, unskilfuhiess, or folly. 
 
 1 am far, however, from wishing to magnify my cou- 
 rage above theirs — for to tell the honest truth, though 
 my horse was both strong and generous, 1 had received 
 many warnings about tlie possibility of his taking fright 
 — as he had never before hunted the bison ; and be- 
 sides this reason for caution, there was something in 
 the immense shaggy head, mane, and beard of my game 
 — the deep eye that gleamed like a coal of fire from be- 
 neath the curls, and his unwieldy bulk, that made me 
 rein in, and rather follow than hunt him ; — nay, as 
 often as, shambling on, he turned his head and glanced 
 revengefully on me, 1 thought it might be more conve- 
 venient to be off, lest he might take it into that capa- 
 cious head of his to hunt me. However, my blood was 
 excited and I followed him, to watch the effect on the 
 horse, who in fact showed that he entered into the chase 
 with all his heart; till tne oison tumbled head over heels 
 into a deep, red, muddy creek, and waddled through ; 
 w^hen I thought I might leave him without compromis- 
 ing my valour^ comforting myself with the reflection, that 
 after all done and said, bull-beef was very far from be- 
 ing palatable. 
 
 A second chase, which Pourtales and myself at first 
 sustained in company, with laudable perseverance, in a 
 hard run of some miles, ended alike unsuccessfully to both 
 of us. The herd of nine bulls which we had followed, split 
 into several small bands. My companion pursued those 
 on the right, and I continued to gallop after a single bison 
 which I had selected as the object of my attack. After 
 a headlong chase up one swell and down anoiher, over 
 broken ground, and through hollows filled with wa- 
 ter, and deep red clay, into which m}^ unwieldy quar- 
 ry precipitately plunged with such unhesitating good- 
 will, that I could not but imitate his example, however 
 little I should have fancied it at another moment, — he 
 led me into a deep marsh, where, spent and breathless, 
 he was brought to bay, and turned upon me. Here we 
 bothered one another a good deal by our several ma- 
 
THE BISON CHASE. 
 
 175 
 
 iioeuvres for attack and defence, and though I did my 
 best to kill him, I failed to do so. Two of my balls 
 had struck him on the hind-quarters as he ran, but 
 seemed only to act as a spur, for he merely gave his 
 tail a flourish, glanced round at me, and scampered on. 
 Unless you strike the animal at a given spot, below the 
 hump and behind tlie shoulder, or on the spine, such 
 is the toughness of the skin and the elasticity of the mus- 
 cles, that the ball seems to be thrown away ; and so all 
 mine appeared to be. I was annoyed with my non- 
 success thus far, and with the idea of the clumsy piece 
 of butchery I was attempting; and in fine, extricating 
 myself from the marsh, left him to his fate. Some time 
 elapsed before 1 rejoined my two comrades, who had 
 both hitherto been unsuccessful. Beatte had also re- 
 turned from a fruitless chase. He liad noosed a horse, 
 but in some of the subsequent evolutions necessary to 
 secure his prize, he had lost his hold on the lasso, and 
 the animal gallopped off. At a later hour, we found 
 he had been again in pursuit for the recovery of the 
 lasso, wliich he had achieved, l)Ut at tlie expense of the 
 poor animal's life. In attempting to 'crease' the ani- 
 mal, that is, to touch it with a ball on the back of the 
 neck, which stuns it without materially injuring it, he 
 did what many a hunter does in attempting that deli- 
 cate operation — he shot it dead. 
 
 To follow the Commissioner v^^as now his business ; 
 but, finding that we were bent on retrieving our for- 
 tunes, he directed our attention to a far more numerous 
 herd of bison than we had yet seen. They were at such 
 a distance on the prairie that they looked like a dotted 
 line under the horizon ; but nevertheless we determined 
 to go in chase. We frequently laughed at a later day 
 when we recalled the boyish eagerness and thirst for 
 blood which certainly possessed the soberest and most 
 peaceful amongst us as long as we were within the vi- 
 cinity of the bison. To many, this would be unaccoun- 
 table, — but all such 1 invite to a month's sojourn in the 
 western wilderness, and an excursion into the Buffalo- 
 range. 
 
176 
 
 THE BISON CHASE. 
 
 It must be recollected that none of us had been at 
 the camp, and we had but a general idea of the posi^ 
 lion and course of the creek upon which it was in all 
 probability to be found. We knew that it had been the 
 intention of our companions to pilch it upon one of the 
 streams rising on the Prairie, and running to the north- 
 ward, while the Great Canadian lay about eight miles 
 to tfie south of us. Fixing upon certain land-marks, 
 and especially upon the particular aspect of the stream, 
 by following which we hoped to come to our night- 
 quarters, we turned our faces to the opposite point of 
 the compass, and agreed to get if possible to the south 
 of the herd, before we approached them, so that the 
 probable direction of our chase to the norih might bring 
 us nearer to the camp, wherever it might be, rather than 
 remove us from it. After a ride of some miles, we found 
 ourselves in near proximity to the herd, and almost in 
 the desired position, when two bulls at a distance from 
 the rest took ihe alarm, and beginning to run, the whole 
 body, which might consist of fifty head, got wind of us, 
 and began to put themselves in motion. 
 
 The bison-bull has a most ludicrous movement in 
 gallopping, owing to the great disproportion of the head 
 and shoulders compared with the hind-quarters, but for 
 all that he shuffles on at a considerable pace. The cow 
 is much fleeter, and a horse must gallop well that keeps 
 steadily up with her. The latter are generally killed 
 for their meat. But to my tale. We had a fine dash- 
 ing run of a mile before we neared them. It was my 
 fortune to take the first chance for a shot, as, spurring 
 my horse past an old overgrown bull panting in the 
 rear, I approached the centre of the herd, and came 
 within a proper distance of an animal, bringing it to 
 the ground by a ball which broke the spine. There is 
 no necessity for me to determine exactly how far my 
 good fortune preponderated over my skill ; as I agree, 
 that to aim with precision at a time when both you and 
 your quarry are gallopping for your lives is not the 
 easiest matter ; however, as I obtained a certain degree 
 of credit in the west, for having killed a bison in true 
 
THE BISON CHASE. 
 
 irr 
 
 Indian style, 1 wish to keep the same with you. My 
 comrades were brouglit to a momentary halt at the fall 
 of the animal, but recollecting themselves, spurred for* 
 ward after the flying troopo A mile further, Mr. Ir- 
 ving had his short-lived hunting mania satisfied, as a 
 ball from his gun brought down a second of the herd ; 
 and halting as was natural by his game, Pourtales was 
 then left alone in chase, which he continued with un- 
 daunted perseverance* 
 
 I had alighted to despatch the first, and to possess 
 myself of the usual trophies, the principal of which is 
 the tongue. To the trample and rush of the chase, a 
 dead silence had succeeded, and I was occupied in my 
 labours, when a slight yelp drew my attention, and, rais- 
 ing my eyes, I saw at a few hundred feet distance, the 
 head of a grey wolf pushed cautiously upwards through 
 the grass. This apparition was followed in the course 
 of a quarter of an hour by as many as half a dozen of 
 a similar character, appearing, as though by magic, on 
 the verge of a circle which they formed around me ; till, 
 having secured my trophy, and being convinced that 
 assistance from the camp was out of the question, and 
 that I must leave my prey where it had fallen, I rode 
 off. 1 then could see them stealing forward cautiously 
 to their meal. The hunter is the wolf's and vulture's 
 provider on these great plains; and they know it, and 
 follow his trail on the Buflfalo-range, with the certainty 
 of having their share of the spoil. 
 
 After rejoining Mr. Irving, whom I found standing 
 sentinel over his spoil, we did not immediately recol- 
 lect that the early twilight of a dull autumnal day was 
 drawing on, and that we had still to find our way to 
 the camp. But where was Pourtales ? Before us were 
 the deeply indented tracks of the herd, but they and 
 their solitary pursuer had long ago vanished over the 
 remotest swell of the horizon. We waited and waited, 
 and conjectured, till we dared wait no longer; and then, 
 haying looked carefully around us, and recognised some 
 of our land-marks, we began to move slowly north- 
 ward ; pausing often to scan the horizon, and ascend- 
 
178 
 
 The bison chase. 
 
 ing each elevation to look out for the two objects of 
 interest, our camp and our young friend. 
 
 We did not find the former without very considera- 
 ble difficulty, about seven miles from the place where 
 our bison had fallen, and that long after the twilight 
 had deepened into night. Here we found the Commis- 
 sioner safe and sound ; but, contrary to our firm expec- 
 tation, Pourtales was absent, and had neither been heard 
 nor seen by an}^ of the hunting parties. The bugle was 
 sounded again and again, guns fired from time to time, 
 and larger fires than ordinary kept up, all without suc- 
 cess ; till tired with conjecture, and knowing that no 
 effort of ours could avail anything till day-light, we 
 were constrained to give up all hopes of seeing him for 
 that night. 
 
 The day's hunt had been successful on every hand^ 
 and including our own spoil, we counted ten or eleven 
 bison killed. Abundance of meat had been brought 
 into camp, — sufficient, indeed, to last the whole com- 
 pany for a month if properly cured and stored, — and 
 lapon the Prairie lay remaining masses over which the 
 wolves were holding their stormy jubilee. One or two 
 of the huge animals had been killed within half a mile 
 of the camp, and a large number of these depredators 
 seemed to have been congregated to the feast. Such a 
 hubbub of detestable sounds as filled our ears, that and 
 the following night, I think I never heard. It was now 
 a faint melancholy sound; and then the whole pack 
 would break out into full cry. You could distinguish 
 the ^harp yell of the prairie-wolf rising over the long- 
 continued howl of the large grey species, as they fed, 
 and snarled, and fought together through the long dark 
 night. I remember it well, for the absence of my com- 
 panion hung heav}^ on me, and prevented much sleep ; 
 and as Beatte and I sat over the fire in the dead of the 
 night, musing and planning for the morrow, that me- 
 lancholy concert sounded dolefully in my ears. 
 
SEQUEL TO THE BISON CHASE. 
 
 179 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 There were three ways of accounting for the disap- 
 pearance of my friend. The first, and the most proba- 
 ble was, that he had pursued the herd without thought 
 or attention to direction or distance, or the approach 
 of evening, and had eventually been unable to find the 
 creek upon which we lay. No one could wonder at 
 this, as the commencement of one creek on the upper 
 lands was hardly to be distinguished from another, and 
 you will recollect that none of us had been at the camp 
 previous to the chase. The second surmise was, that 
 he had been turned upon and gored by one or other of 
 the herd ; and the third, that he had been fallen in with 
 by some roving band of Indians. However, our duty 
 was clear, and as soon as it was day, a party was in 
 readiness to go on the scout, consisting of Mr. Irving 
 and myself, twelve of the best Rangers, and our three 
 domestics. The general orders in camp were: that the 
 men should employ themselves in drying sufficient beef 
 to last them for eight or ten days, and that none of 
 them should hunt to the south or east, lest their trails 
 might be an embarrassment to us in the pursuit of our 
 object. We had no difficulty in leading our compa- 
 nions to that part of the country which had been the 
 scenes of our chase, as we had fixed upon sure land- 
 marks ; nor yet in putting them upon the trail, — as 
 there lay the bison over which the wolves and vultures 
 were still quarrelling; nor did we meet any great in- 
 terruption in following the track of the animals for a 
 few miles, as the soil was soft, and it was seen that the 
 marks of a horse's hoofs bore them faithful company. 
 
 We had proceeded perhaps half an hour in this man- 
 ner to the south-east, when the appearance of a number 
 of bison in full gallop, over a distant swell of the Prai- 
 rie, brought us to a stand. 
 
 ' Qu-qu-qu'il est la^^ exclaimed Tonish, whose real 
 zeal and anxiety on this occasion made us forgive him 
 many of his peccadilloes, — and so we all thoughtj when 
 
180 
 
 SEQUEL TO THE BISON CHASE. 
 
 a human figure mounted and in full career appeared 
 swiftly passing and vanishing in pursuit. But when a 
 second figure immediately followed, the general impres- 
 sion with us all was, that they were Indians, and that 
 idea linking itself with the fate of our companion, with 
 one impulse we setofl^in a mad gallop across the coun- 
 try towards the point w^here they had been seen. We 
 soon crossed their trail ; became satisfied at once that 
 they could not be the Pawnees at any rate, as the hor- 
 ses were evidently shod ; and after following the track 
 a short distance, found in a hollow two of the rangers, 
 who, by disobeying orders, had given us this unneces- 
 sary panic. We had now to detect the real trail again, 
 and half an hour was lost in doing it. 
 
 By following it further, we shortly after came to the 
 place where it was evident that the object of our search 
 had given up the chase, as the deeply-indented hoof- 
 marks of the herd had wheeled off to the northward, and 
 the solitary footsteps of the hunttT were seen to diverge 
 south. Now the greatest care was necessarj^ and our 
 anxiety was proportionably great. The trail continued 
 good, leading us towards the Canadian, till we came 
 upon hard stony ground, and the country gradually 
 declined to the bed of a creek running due south to- 
 wards the river. For an hour longer the search con- 
 tinued with increasing interest and anxiety. Our com- 
 rade seemed now to have wandered to and fro on the 
 swell, and then down in the hollow among the thickets. 
 We could almost divine the thoughts of the rider from 
 the appearance of the trail. Here he was undecided, 
 and stood to look around him ; and there got a bright 
 idea, and trotted briskly on. Sometimes the marks 
 were altogether lost from the nature of the ground; and 
 then our lynx-eyed half-breeds would find it again, by 
 the mere depression of a blade of grass, or a small peb- 
 ble uprooted from the soil, or a scratch upon the stones. 
 
 We had seen game enough during the morning, — 
 bison, horses, antelopes, and deer; but having a supe- 
 rior chase in view, had passed them all by. However, 
 about noon, a herd of deer, led by a noble buck, rose 
 
SEQUEL TO THE BISON CHASE. 181 
 
 SO near us, that Beatte could not withhold a shot. The 
 report of his piece was followed by a distant halloo. — 
 No object appearing in sight, each spurred his horse 
 in the direction from which the sound came to his ears, 
 and an instant after we saw our lost comrade galloping 
 towards us ; I need not tell you that the meeting was 
 a joyous one, and that none could feel it in a greater 
 degree than myself. 
 
 His tale was a simple and straight-forward one. The 
 fall of the second bison had given him the spur, and he 
 followed the herd, and bombarded them till he had no 
 ammunition left. He then began to think of rejoining 
 us, or at least of finding the camp. As had been sur- 
 mised, he had been deceived by the similarity of the 
 different creeks, and had taken one leading to the wrong 
 point of the compass. Night came on ; he became 
 convinced he was lost, and, after divers wanderings to 
 and fro on the broken ground, in the bushes about the 
 hollow, and in the creek, he wisely resolved not to add 
 to his own fatigue, and to our difficulties in trailing him, 
 by further struggles. He therefore fixed upon a large 
 tree within sight of the place where we eventually met, 
 dismounted, tied the forelegs of his horse together with 
 a handkerchief, and let him go loose to shift for himself. 
 A fire he could not make, so he climbed up with the 
 saddle into a commodious fork of the tree, succeeded 
 in making himself a safe and easy seat, and, in spite of 
 appetite, cold, and a serenade of wolves, contrived, by 
 his own account, to get ten hours' sound sleep. The 
 early hours of this day had been passed in comparative 
 tranquillity of mind, as he never doubted but we should 
 be on his trail, and therefore did not move to any great 
 distance from his night quarters. As noon approached, 
 and he had seen nothing of us, I believe some anxiety 
 began to creep into his mind, when the shot was heard, 
 and his rescue from his hungry and anxious position 
 followed as related. He deserved and got great credit 
 for his good sense and philosophy. 
 
 Our return to the camp was a matter of course. The 
 Grand Canadian lay about three miles south, and some 
 
 VOL. I. 16 
 
182 
 
 PRAIRIE BOGS. 
 
 of US made a circuit in returning towards its banks. It 
 is a powerful stream, and by far the longest tributary 
 of the Arkansas. At this point it is surrounded on both 
 sides by open prairies, and bounded by high sand-hills, 
 from the top of which a large extent of its valley was 
 to be seen, with groups of bison and wild horses scat- 
 tered over it. This part of the country, as you will 
 have gathered, still abounds in game. A small group 
 of goats or antelopes was pointed out to me, but 1 was 
 unable to approach them to give their figure or appear- 
 ance with any distinctness. Large flights of starlings 
 were everywhere seen, and numerous bands of snow- 
 white cranes. 
 
 But, as an object of natural history, nothing diverted 
 us more than a part of the smooth prairies near our 
 camp, where, for the space of many acres, the surface 
 "was marked by the mounds raised by a strange little 
 animal, vulgarly and absurdly called the prairie-dog.* 
 They are a species of marmot, of small size, rarely mea- 
 suring more than fifteen or twenty inches from the top 
 of their nose to the extremity of the tail, with a large 
 head, short ears, and longish body. Like the beaver, 
 they appear to be republicans, living in large commu- 
 nities, in burrows spread under a wide extent of prairie. 
 The sod within their territories was everywhere w^ell 
 shaven and dry, and had all the appearance of being 
 well trodden. The opening to each burrow was seen 
 at the top of a little flattened mound of the earth, 
 removed in making the necessary subterraneous excava- 
 tions. In these they are said to live in families. They 
 were very shy and difficult of approach for a man on 
 foot, while, at the same time, a horseman could ride in 
 among them without giving half the alarm ; which was 
 attributed to their being accustomed to the presence of 
 the wild horses of the prairie. 
 
 It was amusing to watch their sprightly movements 
 from a distance, and the cautious manner in which they 
 would, on ascending from their burrows, raise them- 
 
 * Arctomys Ludoviciana. 
 
RETURN TO THE FORT. 
 
 183 
 
 selves upon their hindlegs like a squirrel, and make a 
 long neck, to see if the coast was clear. If they noticed 
 distant danger, they uttered a sharp and singular bark, 
 and never failed to make good their retreat. I noticed 
 that they were very apt to fall foul of each other, and 
 squabble and wrangle together like some of their re- 
 publican neighbours more to the eastward. 
 
 Their burrows, however, serve for places of retreat 
 to others besides themselves. The burrowing-owl, a 
 distinct species, is frequently found in them, and the 
 rattlesnake and badger also. Our friend Irving threw 
 light upon this singular fact, by shrewdly surmising that 
 these strange gentry were probably the ambassadors 
 and plenipotentiaries of foreign powers at the seat of 
 the republic ; and I believe you will hardly find a more 
 plausible one. 
 
 Our camp was that night once more a scene of good- 
 humour, contentment, and joyous pastime. Tonish had 
 crowned the success of the day, by capturing another 
 foal ; and, in the best humour with himself, put forth all 
 his cu«ning in tl>e preparation of sundry delicacies, to 
 the enjoyment of which no one had as good a right as 
 PourtaleSj after the preceding day's fast and redundant 
 exercise. Though the barking, howling, and yelping 
 of the wolves seemed to be yet greater on this second 
 night of their feast than the preceding, no one com- 
 plained of being disturbed by it. 
 
 The sun rose bright and clear for the season on the 
 following day ; and shortly after, the turkeys and quails, 
 whose call from the edge of the forest would have al- 
 lured us to go after them at any other period of our tour, 
 had returned to covert ; and as the morning advanced, 
 preparations were made for a remove from our resting 
 place. It was the last day of October, and we were 
 now to set out on our return home. Our actual dis- 
 tance from the fort was not known ; and, in fact, we 
 found subsequently that we both had farther to go, and 
 more to go through, than we expected— in good truth, 
 that the roughest part of our expedition was yet before 
 OS. I shall compress the history of the following eight 
 
184 
 
 RETURN TO THE FORT. 
 
 days' uninterrupted march to the N. N. E. The great- 
 er part of the first four we were employed in breaking 
 a painful pathway with many a tear, scratch, and grum- 
 ble, through the Cross Timbers. Before we reached 
 the vicinity of the Arkansas River we had to recross 
 the Grand Bayou, though much lower down than be- 
 fore, — the North Fork, and the Deep Creek, which 
 seems to identify itself with the Little North Fork of 
 the Canadian. It was by far the most serious impedi- 
 ment in our course, as its great depth and swiftness 
 precluded all idea of fording. With a few hours' de- 
 lay, however, this obstacle was also overcome ; — the 
 horses were swam across, and a temporary bridge con- 
 trived by felling two gigantic trees on either side, in 
 such a manner, that when they fell across the stream, 
 their top branches interlocked upon, and below the sur- 
 face ; so that you might, with a little care, scramble 
 along the trunk, and from the boughs of the one into 
 the other. 
 
 Between the two last-mentioned streams, we struck 
 upon a good Indian trail known to Beatte ; and two 
 days before we actually arrived upon the Arkansas, we 
 gained the edge of the hilly country, and came to a 
 sudden break, whence we gained a view of boundless 
 expanse over the half-burned and defaced prairies for 
 forty or fifty miles towards the great river. 
 
 At this time our appearance was that of a discomfited 
 host. Divers of the horses were irrecoverably lost, and 
 the greater part of the rangers were on foot, their steeds 
 being unable to carry them. In fact, the poor animals 
 had nothing to eat ; the grass was dead or burnt, and 
 we met with no cane before we reached the Arkansas. 
 Added to this, many of the men, with whom it was al- 
 ways a feast or a fast, had proved themselves improvi- 
 dent to the last degree. Some had dried no meat at 
 the Big Prairie, trusting to find abundance for their 
 daily consumption ; others had even, as we heard, 
 thrown away their provisions the first day of our re- 
 turn, to avoid the trouble of carrying it^ with the same 
 false expectation. 
 
RETURN TO THE FORT. 
 
 185 
 
 But the fact was, that from the day after we left the 
 vicinity of the Great Canadian, we saw no more bison, 
 turkeys were far from plentiful, and deer became ex- 
 tremely scarce ; and I believe that if no absolute hun- 
 ger was the consequence, there was sufficient scarcity 
 in the camp to make the general situation far from 
 enviable. 
 
 Our mess was also rather upon short commons, and 
 at our last encampment in a small forest, through which 
 a hurricane had passed and levelled many a noble tree, 
 about twenty miles from the Arkansas, we too con- 
 gratulated one another that it was our last. Our small 
 stock of flour, sugar, and salt, was all exhausted ; the 
 bundle of ^ solidago odora^ which we had made use of 
 as tea, had long been expended. Two of our pack- 
 horses, Old Gombo and his companion, had been left 
 to their fate. Pourtales' crop, Mr. Irving's generous 
 bay, and my own gallant hunter, had each in turn been 
 left behind through sheer necessity, and the horses which 
 still accompanied us were so emaciated, that, at last, 
 we could not think of riding them. As to our personal 
 appearance, though we all enjoyed excellent health, 
 our wardrobe had reached the lowest degree of pover- 
 ty, and had I patience to describe how men of dignity 
 and worship like ourselves were attired in each parti- 
 cular, I have no doubt your surprise would be excited. 
 The commissioner's dignity was completely shrouded 
 in a common soldier's great-coat and pantaloons. Mr. 
 Irving was clad in a suit of shirt armour, or, to speak 
 plainly, wore a strong holland shirt over his surtout ; 
 and one tail of the latter had been left in the embraces 
 of the Cross Timbers. Certain of Pourtales' integu- 
 ments fluttered in the wind ; and as to myself, though 
 cased in buck-skin from head to foot, there were too 
 many signs of wear and tear in my vestments to allow 
 me any degree of self-congratulation over my fellows. 
 
 The weather, too, had given tokens of change and 
 of the approach of the southern winter ; and as we lay 
 round our fires at night, we heard the whistling pinions 
 of innumerable geese and ducks, winging their way 
 
 16* 
 
186 
 
 RETURN TO THE FORT. 
 
 from the north to a more genial climate. The beauty 
 of the year had indeed passed away. 
 
 Thus the sight of the first frontier * clearing' on the 
 Arkansas, about six miles above the Western Creek 
 Agency, was cheering to both animals and men. We 
 reached it about noon on the 10th of November. The 
 Rangers and their ofl[icers resolved to proceed no far- 
 ther, but commenced a fearful slaughter among the 
 pigs, hens, and geese, with which they as usual found 
 the log-hut of the backwoodsman surrounded ; while 
 their poor jaded horses were regaled with the first good 
 feed they had had for many a long day. Our party, 
 however, determined to push on to the Agency — pass- 
 ing the river in a canoe, and swimming our horses ; 
 and at sundown reached the Verdigris, after exactly a 
 month's absence, during w^hich we had made a circuit 
 of about four hundred miles. 
 
 We were welcomed to the luxuries of maize-bread, 
 sugar, salt, and log-huts ; and to as much intelligence 
 with regard to the great world from which we had 
 been for a short period so completely cut off, as could 
 be afforded by those dwelling so far from the scene 
 of important events. 
 
 LETTER XVIL 
 
 The object of the expedition, as far as it had ex- 
 tended, had been in one respect accomplished, in that 
 the character of the country between the two great 
 rivers had been ascertained, and found to be such as 
 to preclude all idea of settling the eastern Indians upon 
 it. As you may have gathered, with the exception of 
 the rich alluvial lands of the Arkansas, and a few strips 
 of a like character along the tributary streams, the 
 whole district we had passed over was in fact a desert, 
 •with an ungrateful soil and stinted vegetation. The 
 
RETURN TO THE FORT. 
 
 187 
 
 rock, wherever seen, appeared under the form of a loose 
 friable sandstone, loaded with iron. Both the soil and 
 the waters were generally vermilion in colour, and the 
 latter so salt, as to be unpotable in time of flood. There 
 is reason to believe that this is the character of the 
 country for yet hundreds of miles to the westward. 
 
 Divers proceedings and arrangements followed our 
 return to this outpost of civilization. Our retainers were 
 dismissed. Indians were sent after the stray horses, 
 and we had the pleasure to see most of them brought in 
 after a few days' delay, and sent to live in cane and 
 clover like their fellows. The commissioner and Mr. 
 Irving repaired to the fort on the Neosho, six miles east 
 of the agency. It forms an open square, surrounded 
 by a strong log-barricade, on the high bank of the river, 
 with two block-houses at opposite angles, and contains 
 the usual barracks, storehouses, and officers' quarters : — 
 many other buildings, belonging to the government, or 
 private adventurers, lying under the protection of its 
 guns. Circumstances made Pourtales and myself fix 
 our quarters on the Verdigris, but frequent visits to the 
 garrison w^ere always a source of pleasure, from the 
 agreeable society we there met with among the officers, 
 many of whom had their families with them. We 
 now heard of the dire visit of the cholera throughout 
 the West, of the great distress it had caused on board 
 the numerous steamboats, and more especially of the 
 ravages made by the simultaneous appearance of both 
 this mysterious pestilence and the yellow^ fever at New- 
 Orleans ; besides divers items of intelligence, domestic, 
 foreign, and political, which, though old enough, were 
 all new to us. 
 
 Two days after our return, a small steamboat arrived v 
 at the fort with stores, and we were sorry to see our 
 friend and companion, Washington Irving, resolve to 
 take advantage of it to commence his return to the 
 East ; the more so, as we were obliged, from divers 
 reasons, to delay our departure for a fortnight. 
 
 The commissioner, finding that his two coadjutors 
 had not yet arrived, took up his quarters for the winter 
 
188 
 
 TONISH. 
 
 at the fort, together with Tonish, who was now taken 
 into his particular service, as head cook, valet de cham- 
 bre, master of the horse, and of course as grand veneur. 
 To aid him in the latter capacity, ' Uncle Sam' was 
 given into his special keeping. The morning after our 
 arrival at the Verdigris, this veracious personage had 
 made the inhabitants of the little assemblage of log-huts 
 aware of his being in a state of very grievous mental 
 or physical distress, by uttering the most piteous cries 
 and ejaculations, — calling to horse and jumping about 
 like one distracted, while he vociferously called on his 
 comrade Beatte for assistance. The words which he 
 sung to this most unaccountable solo were, as far as we 
 could understand — ^Ah! qu-quefai perdu ma viande ! 
 malheureux que je suis ! ma viande de bceuf sauvage /' 
 The upshot was, that he professed to have lost a small 
 parcel of dried bison meat, which he had guarded with 
 uncommon care during our hungry retreat, as an accept- 
 able gift to his two patrons, the colonel at the Agency, 
 and the commandant at Fort Gibson, to both of whom 
 it seems he had, in his usual braggart strain, made a 
 gratuitous promise at the moment of starting a month 
 before. He was with great difficulty consoled, and pre- 
 vented getting on horseback to ride back fifty or sixty 
 miles to seek it. His very natural and very amiable 
 disappointment was sympathized with; and having been 
 gradually reconciled to the unavoidable and most unin- 
 tentional failure of his sacred promise, the sorrowful 
 Tonish proceeded with an air of painful resignation 
 with his master to the fort ; when lo ! on following him 
 there the day after, the truth comes out. All the while 
 that Tonish was acting the tragic scene just described, 
 the meat in question was to his certain knowledge 
 stowed safely in the centre of the bundle which con- 
 tained his worldly effects, and was safely braced on the 
 crupper of his horse. The simple fact was, Tonish had 
 eaten the greater part of the intended gift, and knowing 
 that what remained would not bear division between 
 his two patrons, he took this mode of satisfying the 
 
THE RANGERS. 
 
 189 
 
 colonel at the Verdigris, while he got the credit of 
 keeping his promise to the colonel at the Neosho. 
 
 I forget whether it was precisely at this period of our 
 intercourse that he got nfiy companion to indite a letter 
 for him to his lonely partner in the village of Florissant, 
 every sentence of which began in his terse and charac- 
 teristic manner, thus — ' Dis, qu-queje suis Men! Que 
 fespere qu^elle ma femme se porte bien — que les enfans 
 se portent tous bien^ et que tout le monde se porte bien. 
 Dis, que fen ai tue beaucoup de gibier — de daims, et 
 infiniment de bceufs sauvages P SfC, This singular per- 
 sonage continued to be a study for me as long as we 
 were in the neighbourhood. He has been hitherto de- 
 scribed in the wilds as pert, noisy, active, and slashing. 
 He now became an altered man. He got a fit of the 
 horribles and rheumatism, both the fruits, as he said^ 
 of sleeping in a house. He went about wrapped up in 
 an old gray top-coat, with the collar hoisted high over 
 his ears, and lost both his appetite and spirits. Even 
 his extraordinary success in shooting pigeons and prai- 
 rie-hens with * Uncle Sam,' seemed to have no power to 
 nerve his tongue, or to re-open that mine of self-esteem 
 and applause, which lay covered up in some corner of 
 his brain. In the midst of plenty, he was longing after 
 the peculiar dainties of the prairies ; and the last trait 
 I have upon record concerning him at this time, was, 
 his great and exceeding affection for a skunk which 
 lived under the flooring of the ruinous log-hut, where 
 he carried on his culinary processes. I detected him 
 feeding it faithfully, morning, noon, and night ; explain- 
 ing, however, his reasons to me aside for so doing, by 
 saying — ^ Qu-qu-quHl devient gras ! alorsje le mange /' 
 So much for the purity of Tonish's affections. 
 
 The Rangers went into quarters in a rich and retired 
 nook of the shady vale of the Neosho, about six miles 
 above the Fort, where they built themselves huts, and 
 had, doubtless, during the, course of the winter months, 
 time enough to swop at their leisure. Two other com- 
 panies, one commanded by a son of Daniel Boone, ar- 
 rived shortly after, and went into similar quarters nearer 
 
190 WESTERN CREEK AGENCY. 
 
 the Fort, to be in readiness for an expedition, which it 
 was proposed to send out in far greater force in the ear- 
 ly spring towards the Red River and the Pawnee coun- 
 try, so that the Httle garrison to which they were at- 
 tached, and considered as out-pensioners, now mustered 
 eight hundred men. Doubts were entertained by 
 many even at that time, as to this description of troops 
 being of any real utiHty, or calculated to render effec- 
 tive service ; and these were strengthened by the expe- 
 rience gained the following year, with which we subse- 
 quently became acquainted. The government seems 
 ultimately to have come to the same conclusion. They 
 were disbanded the following summer, and a regiment 
 of dragoons, subject to severe military discipline, orga- 
 nized for the frontier service. Of their adventures I 
 know nothing, yet should be inclined to douE)t whether 
 at any season of the year, or however organized, a large 
 body of men could maintain itself in the wide plains of 
 the West, in the presence of hostile tribes, who, employ- 
 ing their means of annoyance in continually harassing 
 them, cutting off their stragglers and hunters, and steal- 
 ing their horses^ might reduce those to distress whom 
 they never could or would attempt to subdue otherwise. 
 
 The fortnight which I have mentioned as interven- 
 ing between our return to the outskirts of civilization 
 and our departure from thence, was spent by each as 
 he listed. A fall of snow, and two or three days' cold 
 weather, were succeeded by a fine genial season of 
 comparative warmth and comfort. We lived in a log- 
 hut attached to the trading establishments of our old 
 conductor, the colonel, and there were strange scenes 
 and sights daily passing before our eyes among the 
 concourse of Indians of various tribes, with whom this 
 was a point of rendezvous. 
 
 After the weather had become pleasant again, the 
 squirrel, which had disappeared for a while, and was 
 supposed to have gambolled to his heart's content, and 
 to have slunk to the shelter of his storehouse in the 
 hollow branch for the winter, was again heard and seen 
 amon^ the dead leaves at the foot of th^ hickory and 
 
THE PRAIRIE FOWL. 
 
 191 
 
 peccan-trees : and those countless bands of water-fowl 
 and flights of pigeons, which had been constantly ob- 
 served passing to the southward during the prevalence 
 of the cold wind, ceased to attract the attention. 
 
 The prairie-fowls had now completely thrown aside 
 their summer habits. Instead of keeping apart in dis- 
 tinct families scattered over a vast extent of country, 
 like our own grouse at an earlier season, they now ap- 
 peared congi egated in immense flocks in the immediate 
 vicinity of the farms. I had plenty of opportunity of 
 studying their habits, but to shoot a few brace, as they 
 were extremely wild, required frequently hours of pa- 
 tient and wary exertion ; whereas, at an earlier season, 
 a sportsman, if aided by a dog, might bag any quan- 
 tity, from the pertinacity with which they will lie close 
 till forced to fly. 
 
 It appeared that at this time of the year all the birds 
 within an area of three or four miles square, congre- 
 gated together by consent at sundown on a given spot 
 in the rank dry grass of the unburnt prairie, to sleep. 
 Many a time have I seen them coming at sunset from 
 every point of the compass, with their remarkably 
 level and even flight over the swells of the prairie ; 
 towards the place of rendezvous, which a few days' 
 observation enabled me to determine upon within a 
 quarter of a mile, and twice I was on the prairie early 
 enough to hear and see them rise, and the sight was 
 such as might make an English sportsman's mouth wa- 
 ter. Their number must have amounted to many thou- 
 sands, and the sound of their wings might be heard a 
 very great distance. After rising, for about half an 
 hour, they crowd the scattered trees on the edge of the 
 prairie by hundreds at a time, after which they disperse. 
 Their wariness at this time is extreme ; and the slight- 
 est indication of the approach of man, even at a great 
 distance, is noticed by the cock ; who, perched on the 
 topmost twig, elongates his neck, and peeps first on one 
 side, and then on another, with the most provoking 
 caution. How often have I been foiled, when, after 
 the most cautious approach, either in serpent-fashion 
 
192 WESTERN CREEK AGENCY. 
 
 like the Indian, dragging myself through the grass 
 inch by inch, or in an upright position, striving to 
 counterfeit a tree stump ; never stirring till the senti- 
 nel looked another way, and then by imperceptible ap- 
 proaches, and five more feet and five more minutes 
 would have brought the tree within range, — the careful 
 bird began to grow more and more doubtful and rest- 
 less, and finally set up that clear tremulous crow 
 which said : * There's a rogue with a gun almost within 
 shot !' as plainly as though he had spoken English. The 
 instant and complete dispersion of the whole covey to a 
 great distance would be the immediate consequence. 
 The plumage of this large species of grouse is not so 
 bright as that of our moor-fowl, though composed of the 
 same colours ; yet it is a beautiful bird. While I counted 
 the prairie as my hunting ground, it would have amused 
 you to see my companion prowling round the bayous 
 and lakes nearer the Arkansas, to get a shot at the ducks 
 and geese which covered them ; employing, by-the- 
 way, an Indian urchin to act the water-dog, and bring 
 them out when killed. But this and other equally 
 trivial modes of whiling away that time which we were 
 constrained to stay here, soon brought satiety ; and 
 we turned our thoughts with some impatience to the 
 manner of our return to civilized society. We had 
 been given to understand that another steamboat would 
 probably ascend from the Mississippi within the fort- 
 night, provided the state of the weather and the depth 
 of w^ater in the river permitted it. As this period drew 
 towards aclose,however, the general impression among 
 our acquaintance was, that none would dare to risk it. 
 The roads to the southward, if roads they could be 
 called, were pronounced impassable: and, as we still 
 lingered day after day, in the vain hope that the boat 
 might yet arrive, it began to look a little probable, 
 that, having missed the opportunity of return which 
 Mr. Irving had embraced, we should have to winter in 
 the log-huts of this distant settlement. The season was 
 now far advanced : but still there was one alternative 
 left us, namely, a descent by canoe ; and after much 
 
THE ARKANSAS RIVER. 
 
 193 
 
 contrivance, thanks to the hearty assistance of many 
 hospit rjle acquaintances at the fort and the agency, 
 we got every thing finally arranged, and on the 23d of 
 November, repaired early to the fort to take our 
 departure. 
 
 A good, sound, stray canoe; about thirty-four feet 
 long, and ihree wide in the centre, had been picked up 
 by some of the soldiers. This we purchased, and with 
 the concurrence of the officers at the garrison, made an 
 arrangement with two discharged soldiers desirous of 
 going down the river, to act as our oarsmen and caterers. 
 
 In the afternoon we bid adieu to Fort Gibson, and 
 took our places face to face upon our bear-skins and 
 blankets, in the centre of our trusty canoe; while our 
 baggage was carefully stowed fore and aft, leaving 
 place for the two paddlers, Sergeant Waddle and Pri- 
 vate M'Connaughy at either extremity, and put forth 
 into the main current of the Neosho. We were fol- 
 lowed from the bank by many a kind farewell from our 
 worthy and respected friend the Commissioner ; a 
 grimace of utter despair, accompanied by a blessing, 
 which sounded like an imprecation, from Tonish, and 
 the best wishes of the little knot of gallant officers, to 
 whose frank hospitality we had been greatly indebted. 
 
 We were soon carried down into the winding turbid 
 stream of the Arkansas, and began our paddle of five 
 hundred miles with good courage. Our mode of tra- 
 velling had at that time the charm of novelty, and we 
 were not long in coming to the opinion, that of all 
 modes of water-conveyance, this was the most perfectly 
 free from annoyance. Our light vessel glided noise-^ 
 lessly over the broad surface, or shot down the rapids. 
 Custom made us perfectly at ease to move in her, and 
 change our position without throwing her off her ba- 
 lance. If any thing on shore attracted our attention 
 there was no difficulty in landing instantly^ If she 
 grounded, we either poled her off; or if the shoal was 
 extensive, got into the water and dragged her into the 
 main channel again. We carried a quantity of provi* 
 sions with us; though in general we contrived towards 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
194 
 
 THE ARKANSAS RIVER. 
 
 night-fall to reach one of the Indian or half-breed clear- 
 ings, dispersed at long intervals along the banks, and 
 to remain there till morning. Indeed, we were only 
 once obliged, by the approach of night, to lie in the 
 woods. 
 
 For the rest, great were our amusement and the op- 
 portunities we had of seeing human nature under sin- 
 gular aspects in our descent towards the more civilized 
 world. 
 
 At the approach of the first night we landed just at 
 the head of the rapid called the Devil's raceground, 
 and found shelter in a Cherokee hut buried in a wilder- 
 ness of canes, and on the edge of a clearing of perhaps 
 ten acres, covered with the most gigantic crop of maize 
 we ever saw, the average height being twenty feeta 
 The produce was here on the lowest calculation a 
 thousand-fold. 
 
 On the second, no clearing appearing in sight, 
 though we continued to glide swiftly down the current 
 far into the twilight: we therefore landed in the belt of 
 tall cotton-wood poplars on the river shore, secured the 
 canoe, made a huge fire, cooked and eat our supper, 
 and lay down to court sleep on our bear-skins. Tent 
 we had none. I recollect, that we had no sooner got 
 every thing arranged for the night, wl.en we became 
 aware, by the sounds of cattle and the barking of dogs 
 at a distance on the opposite side of the river, that we 
 were only a mile from a farm: and also that one of 
 those restless nights followed, as far as I was concerned^ 
 when the mind appears to be too active to allow repose 
 to settle down upon the body ; so that listening to the 
 strange noises from the forest and darkened surface of 
 the river; one moment watching the glare of the fires 
 from the burning prairies on the sky, another looking 
 at the bright stars over-head, twinkling through the 
 branches of the poplars, I fed the fire, pondered many 
 sweet and bitter subjects of recollection or reflection in 
 my wakeful brain, and kept watch. 
 
 On the following day, wild and sudden gusts of wind 
 on the river making our advance dangerous, after per- 
 
FRENCHMAN JACK, 
 
 195 
 
 severing till about noon, we paddled to the left shore to 
 a thriving Cherokee settlement, and took up our quar- 
 ters at a half-breed's, called Frenchman Jack, Of all 
 the odd families I ever beheld, this was surely the 
 oddest. The father of the tamily — a thickset athletic 
 figure, in whom the Indian blood predominated, — was 
 son of a Cherokee woman by a French settler; the 
 mother a full-blooded Indian. Of several children, 
 the eldest was a girl of about ten, of a beautifully fair 
 complexion, with flaxen ringlets and blue eyes, and all 
 the others had the dark lineaments of the maternal tribe. 
 None of the family spoke either French or English, 
 with the exception of a negro slave girl, who acted as 
 our interpreter. The dwelling-house was a substantial 
 log-building of one single apartment, in wiiich there 
 was the strangest mixture of European furniture and 
 Indian apparatus and contrivances. It was constructed 
 without windows, with abundance of crockery, clothes, 
 and saddles, all nicely stowed away on shelves and 
 pegs. Two large low bedsteads filled up the angles on 
 either side of the door, and the deficiency of stools was 
 made up by boxes of various dimensions which seemed 
 to contain t1ie wardrobe and other treasures of the 
 family. Five other distinct erections of different shapes 
 and dimensions surrounded the principal hut, and 
 served as kitchen, smoke-house, store-house, he. be- 
 sides a shed covering the room in which the ordinary 
 garments of the family were woven. Ever}' thing about 
 the premises bore an air of negligent thriftiness; skins 
 of domestic animals, or those killed in the chase, were 
 faung to dry on one side — stacks of fodder rose on the 
 other; cattle and horses rustled in the neighbouring 
 cane-brake; and the fierce-looking pigs, with bristling 
 mane, and erect, pointed ears, eyed you a moment with 
 straddling legs, as you strolled through the forest paths, 
 and then, grunting savage defiance, scampered away 
 over the dead leaves. As usual, the dogs were nume- 
 rous, and seemingly si cross between the dog and the 
 wolf. Every thing had an air of half-breed, and from 
 this the fowls were not an exception ; the bodies of the 
 
196 
 
 FRENCHMAN JACiC. 
 
 hens were raised up upon long, yellow, unsightly legi 
 to an unusual height, and a peculiar breed of ducks 
 was not wanting to complete the picture. The whole 
 of the premises stood on the bluff bank of the river, at 
 the angle of a clearing, surrounded by a zigzag frnce^ 
 and just above the junction of a small creek with the 
 Arkansas. Two or three canoes appeared within the 
 mouth of the former, which was overhung by a group 
 of contorted hut noble sycamores, the onl}^ trees that 
 were left near ihe buildings, with the exception of a few 
 tall leafless ones among the huts, which afforded roosts 
 for the numerous cocks and hens. 
 
 The storm of wind conluiuing without abatement^ 
 we were content to remain here. As evening ap- 
 proached, our attention was rivetted to the opposite 
 banks of tlie river, from the prairie beyond wliich a 
 dense smoke had been driving along the horizon the 
 whole day. It was evident that the flames were ap- 
 proaching ihe river, and as it became dark, they gained 
 the edge of the prairie. They first got into the cane- 
 brake, crackling like a coniinued peal of musketry, 
 and then burst into the wood of cotton trees over 
 against us. Here, urged by the wind, they coniinued 
 raging for an hour with the greatest violence, produ- 
 cing a splendid effect on both the river and the lower- 
 ing sky, till driven more to the northward, they began 
 to fail for want of equally suitable fuel. We then 
 slunk to our blankets, lying down on the floor of the 
 common apartment, the crowded state of which how- 
 ever rendered it a perfect stove. 
 
 The following day we were enabled to proceed. 
 We got beyond the Indian lands, and at noon reached 
 ihe small hamlet rising upon the site of the abandoned 
 Fort Smith, at which we made but a momentary halt. 
 We were now gradually approaching a region where 
 white settlements were more frequent ; ferries began to 
 be observable on the banks, and the site of future towns 
 marked by the court houses. What the back parts of 
 Kentucky were some fifty years ago, and the Mexi- 
 can province of Texas is now, the country through 
 
THE ARKANSAS TERRITORY. 
 
 197 
 
 which we were passing had been in the intermediate 
 period, and indeed till within a very few years back ; 
 namely, the sink into which the offscourings of the 
 more settled parts of the country precipitated them- 
 selves. 
 
 Hither came the restless man, whose impulses led 
 him to keep the outskirts of society, and whose inter- 
 est in the clearing he had made, the soil he had re- 
 claimed from the thick forest, and the hut he had built, 
 became stifled as soon as the yet distant axe of a 
 neighbour was heard to resound in his neighbourhood, 
 and the smoke of additional clearings arose from the 
 deep blue horizon. He fell no strong tie to the place. 
 His adoption of it had been capricious, his relinqnish- 
 ment of it was no less so ; and all the more agreeable 
 associations connected with it were disturbed the mo- 
 ment others came to share the thinned game, and the 
 trees of the forest could no longer be felled into his 
 very yard. He would complain of the country becom- 
 ing too crowded, because he could count upon ten 
 neighbours within a circuit of twice as many miles. 
 The sight of a surveyor, and the approach of the law 
 with all its concomitants, would be a source of trouble 
 and disgust to him. Accordingly, he would dispose of 
 his ' improvement' and his live stock to some new- 
 comer for a few hundred dollars ; pack up his house- 
 hold stuff, collect his moveables, summon his wife to 
 follow, and, shouldering his axe and his rifle, lead his 
 family forth with comparative pleasure to new scenes 
 of labour ; and interposing the mighty * Father of 
 Waters' between him and the advancing line of civili- 
 !zation, dive deep and bury himself in the forests of 
 Arkansas. In the same wilds, the murderer, red with 
 crime, and branded by the laws he thus evaded, sought 
 and obtained a sanctuary from their vengeance. The 
 public defaulter ; criminals of all degrees; the specu- 
 lator ; the loose adventurer ; — all flocked to the same 
 shades, scattering themselves in the solitudes of the 
 forest, or on the edge of the turbid river; or collected 
 together round the Indian trading establishments, 
 
 17* 
 
198 
 
 THE ARKANSAS TERRITORY. 
 
 scandalizing their white and Christian parentage by 
 shameless and vicious lives 5 oppressing the Indian^ 
 and often waging the war of the knife and rifle upon 
 another in the spirit of revenge and bitter hatred. In 
 the wake of these would follow a host of disorderly 
 folk ; men whom crime, perhaps, had not forced to fly 
 from the precincts of civilization, but whom the hopes of 
 a free and unshackled life spent in impunity here, if 
 not that of redeeming their fortunes, would bring across 
 the Mississippi. The spendthrift, the debtor, he who 
 had been enticed to enter into composition with his 
 creditors, and he that had made none. Many a man 
 born and educated for better things, but who, living 
 badly or too freely in the old States, lastly mortgaging 
 his estate, and plunging irrecoverably in debt, made 
 over debts and property to his eldest son, stole ahorse, 
 and oflf to Arkansas! 
 
 To these might be added, a goodly proportion of 
 the speculative and industrious scions from the ' north- 
 ern hive' of New England, here represented by a 
 single, plodding, sharp-witted pedler ; there by the 
 owner of aflat, advancing lazily up the river from farm 
 to farm, with a tempting assortment of wares ; and 
 again, by a small knot of more stationary adventurers, 
 who, fixing upon a favourable locality, build a log- 
 store, and set up as a respectable firm of five partners, 
 with a joint stock of goods to the value of a few hun- 
 dred dollars, and a negro slave. At this stage the 
 honest portion of the community, and it is a growing 
 one, feel the inconvenience of having transported them- 
 selves beyond the arm of the law. They band toge- 
 ther, and co-operate for their mutual security, often 
 under the name of Regulators, forming among them- 
 selves that rough court for the protection of the inno- 
 cent, and the punishment of the guilty, to which I have 
 alluded in a former letter. They begin also to dream 
 of glory, and to form volunteer companies. Thus 
 thirty settlers will enrol themselves into a rifle com- 
 pany, and elect their own ofl5cers in such a manner 
 th^i every individual among them has a title to prefix 
 
THE ARKANSAS TERRITORY. 
 
 199 
 
 to his name. From the time the good and orderly 
 predominate, the increase of population advances with 
 accelerated pace. The steady operation of tiib law 
 follows; the country is taken under the wing of the 
 General Government. It is then surveyed ; the au- 
 thorized sale of lands succeeds, and the possessor of a 
 tract is either confirmed in permanent possession of that 
 which he had taken from the wilderness, by purchase 
 at a low price ; or disposing of his improvement, cakes 
 the step which I had described at the commencement 
 of this digression. Roads are laid out, districts deter* 
 mined upon, court-houses built, and strong log-built 
 jails in their vicinity : chapels rise in the middle of 
 the woods, and hamlets thicken into villages, antici- 
 pating in their lofty sounding names their future glories, 
 as mighty towns and cities. Then comes the land- 
 speculator, with a host of expectant and hopeful fol- 
 lowers, led on by a puff, advancing and fixing them- 
 selves in close contiguity, in some paradise of fertility, 
 and in their wake hundreds and thousands of others. 
 At the same time the views of the inhabitants advance 
 beyond mere subsistence, and the rivers begin to be 
 chequered by the fiats and other craft loaded with the 
 rich produce of the field and forest, dropping down 
 with the current to the distant market: and the sono- 
 rous breathing of the steam-boat is heard in solitudes, 
 where ten years before no crat\ had ever floated but the 
 light and rude canoe. This is a state of things not 
 genial to the views, tempers, and characters of the first 
 inhabitants. And though the great distance between 
 the various seats of justice and the scattered population 
 would continue for a while to be friendly to crime, and 
 insure it a degree of impunity in many cases, yet the 
 country could not longer be considered an asylum for 
 it as heretofore; and at this day, the Province of Texas 
 has taken the place of the Arkansas Territory. 
 
 But we are still on the surface of the river, and its 
 features may demand a few lines of description. As> 
 to our two fellow-voyagers for the time being, both 
 were originals in their way, though the private, M'Con- 
 
200 
 
 THE ARKANSAS RIVER. 
 
 naughy, was more distinguished for his general good 
 conduct, and his paddling and chewing incessantly, 
 than anything else. As to the Sergeant, he being of 
 Yankee blood, had more than one iron in the Are : 
 and to tell the truth, loved peddling far better than 
 paddling. He had thriftily taken advantage of an 
 offer made him by a trader at the garrison, to take two 
 dollars-worth of goods, in return for one in cash, and 
 having made the speculation, he was now bent upon 
 improving it. The consequence was, that we were 
 fully initiated into the mysteries of peddling, by wit- 
 nessing his daily attempts to get rid of his chest of 
 finery to the good wives along the river. He was 
 honest, as times go ; but could not avoid essaying to 
 give his traffic a lift by many an audacious, but well- 
 meaning lie. I need hfirdl}^ mention, that the lower 
 we descended, the more frequent the farms became ; 
 though they still continued so far scattered, that we 
 had more than once been benighted in our attempt to 
 get over the ten or twelve miles between one and the 
 other, at the close of a day's labour; as, besides the 
 distance, it became very difficult to descry them after 
 dusk, as they were ordinarily a little removed from the 
 bank. However, necessity taught us to betake our- 
 selves to a very simple and infallible expedient for 
 attaining this object, whenever we were belated ; which 
 consisted in our setting up a rough imitation of canine 
 yelping and howling, which as soon as they could dis- 
 tinguish it on the long reaches of the river, was in- 
 stantly answered by the dogs at the farms. As we 
 descended, the style of architecture gradually improved, 
 and after a long acquaintance with nothing but log- 
 huts, we began to meet with frame and clapboard 
 houses of various dimensions, though it was not till we 
 reached Little Rock, five hundred miles from the fort, 
 that we met with anything of a yet more permanent 
 character. On the sixth day after the commencement 
 of our voyage, we reached the point called the Darda- 
 nelles, and met two steamboats toiling up the river, — 
 the waters of which had been on the increase ever since 
 
THE ARKANSAS RIVEH. 
 
 201 
 
 the day of our departure; straining every nerve to 
 ascend the stream, and deposit their cargoes either at 
 Fort Smith or Fort Gibson, before the failure of the 
 present rise should leave tl>em aground, to calculate 
 the balance between profit and loss. 
 
 Hitherto the scener}^ had been extremely varied. Our 
 position on the deep bosom of the river, it is true, never 
 allowed us an extended view upon the adjacent country^ 
 and was frequently bounded for many miles together, 
 by the forests, sand-bars, and low alluvial lands in the 
 immediate vicinity of its bed, with their green bands of 
 cane, frequented by bears and turkeys, and long lines 
 of sober gray poplars. Among these the river swept 
 majestically along, sometimes in one broad channel of 
 a third of a mile in breadth, and at others in many 
 difl'erent currents, spread over a far greater surface, as 
 its vast bed was obstructed by poplar-covered islands 
 and shoals. At such time frequent breaks were ob- 
 servable in the banks, through which the surplus waters 
 are discharged in the rainy months, into innumerable 
 ponds and bayous. The bright shoals were at this 
 season covered with long lines of ducks, geese, and 
 brants. The extreme vigilance and trumpet voice of 
 the latter gigantic species, rendered approach within 
 shot an utter impossibility. Flights of these birds were 
 seen continually winging their wedge-like phalanx 
 over our heads. Swans were occasionally met with, 
 and such immense flights of pigeons as I dare not de- 
 scribe, lest I should be accused of sharing the inventive 
 powers and disposition of many of my class. They 
 passed over our heads at irregular intervals, with a 
 very swift flight to the southward; their numbers in- 
 creasing greatly whenever the sky was overcast. While 
 in America, I never succeeded in seeing one of their 
 roosts, but met much evidence confirmatory of the 
 singular appearance presented by the place of their 
 retreat, where millions seem to congregate, breaking 
 down the arms of the trees by their mere weight, and 
 covering the ground to a great depth with their manure. 
 Ill many parts of the Midland States, the crows are 
 
202 
 
 THE ARKANSAS RIVER. 
 
 known to congregate in the winter season in the depth 
 of the forest in almost equal numbers. 
 
 Whenever the river took a large sw^eep, we were 
 sure to find acui-off, or straight channel, opened in the 
 bank, and forming a chord to the arc, by which much 
 of the water of the river passed downward in time of 
 flood, but at other times is mostly choked with immense 
 quantities of rubbish; and many were our debates and 
 arguments for or against yielding to the temptation of 
 attempting to take advantage of these seducing short- 
 cuts. 
 
 Huge accumulations of bleaching driftwood tmd 
 timber lay piled up at the heads of the islands and on 
 the sand-bars. Snags were abundant, but we were 
 preserved from serious accidents. 
 
 Upon the rich alluvial soil displayed to a great depth 
 on the perpendicular banks, we had a section-map of 
 the different depositions for many centuries. They 
 were dark red, yellow, or light-coloured, according to 
 the tributary stream down which the flood, which had 
 deposited them, had come. Thus we knew that the 
 white lines had been deposited by a rise of the Neosho 
 or Verdigris, and the deep red by those of the Red 
 Fork, or Canadian, to the southward. Yet you must 
 not imagine from what I have stated above, that the 
 general surface of the country was level ; in fact, this 
 was far from being the case. A chain of hills, called 
 the Ozark mountains, of considerable extent to the 
 northward, rise in this part of the great western valley, 
 and often abut upon the Arkansas, presenting steep 
 wooded acclivities on either side, with a small appear- 
 ance of pine-covered rocks toward the summit. At 
 the Dardanelles, the river cuts through a spur of this 
 chain of greater height than ordinary, and forms by far 
 the most picturesque scene found along its course. 
 Below this point, it holds a monotonous and rather 
 uninteresting course for many miles. On the eighth 
 night, we entered with the twilight a singular division 
 of the stream, forming a long basin, broad and tranquil 
 as a lakcj with a high pine-covered rocky shore on one 
 
LITTLE ROCK.. 
 
 203 
 
 side, and a uniform grove of cotton-wood trees bending 
 over tlie water for five or six miles in a straight line on 
 the other; and from this point to Little Rock, or 
 Acropolis, as the learned prefer to call it, the capital 
 town or seat of government of the territory, twenty or 
 thirty miles distant, the river flowed for the most part 
 in contiguity to the hills, which here and there pre- 
 sented rather a picturesque outline. 
 
 We arrived at Little Rock on the morning of Dec. 
 9th, and, finding the common inns very discreditable 
 resorts, were received with courtesy into a clean and 
 decent boarding-house, kept by a respectable baptist 
 minister. 
 
 Though we were aware that the steamboats which 
 we had seen on their passage up the river, would 
 shortly return to Little Rock, and that we might con- 
 tinue our voyage to the Mississippi by their means, 
 yet we had become so partial to our canoe, and the 
 perfect independence and absence from annoyance 
 which it enabled us to maintain, that we felt inclined to 
 pursue our voyage to the mouth of the Arkansas in her. 
 The distance to Montgomery's Point was yet between 
 two and three hundred miles. An unexpected obstacle 
 to our intention, however, arose in the conduct of our 
 paddler, M'Connaughy, who, true to the impulses of 
 his warm Irish blood, unfortunately fell into bad com- 
 pany the moment he got ashore ; and partly terrified 
 by the idea of confronting the cholera, which was still 
 reported to rage in some of the Mississippi steamboats; 
 partly cajoled by the hope of lucrative employment, 
 and lastly, through the incapacitating effects of whiskey, 
 resolved to remain here. 
 
 We had therefore, whether we would or no, to wait 
 for the first steamboat. It came down the river the 
 following day, after we had passed a quiet Sunday in 
 very comfortable quarters. Of Little Rock, I can say 
 little, but that it is one of those thriving places fre- 
 quently n^et with, where society is still in a ferment; 
 the good and the evil being strangely mixed up to- 
 gether. 
 
204 
 
 LITTLE ROCK. 
 
 The * Reindeer' made but a short pause, and early 
 the foliowuig morning st.irted with its freight and 
 passengers on its downward course. 
 
 So here, in a measure, we finished our wanderings 
 in the Far West, and tliat with real regret. Every 
 species of travelling has its lessons, and this had not 
 been wanting in such. During our journey of a thou- 
 sand miles in this region, we had become acquainted 
 with much of that species of knowledge which is the 
 stay of the hunter, and gives him assurance in the vast 
 solitudes of the the trackless forest and prairie. Many 
 a secret of horse-craft and wood-craft had been revealed 
 to us. We had been taught to distinguish the trail of one 
 animal from another, — to steer according to the tokens 
 afforded in sunless days by the trees of the forest and 
 the plants of the prairie of the side from which the north 
 wind blows, or the sun should appear, — to know the 
 track of Indian friend or Indian enemy, — to distinguish 
 their forsaken camps and to read their hieroglyphic 
 signs graven on the trees. We had found that to sleep 
 unhoused, night after night, for a month together, in 
 the damp air of the deep forest, is not necessarily fol- 
 lowed by colds, sneezing, or consumption ; and that 
 one may contrive to live on animal food without bread 
 or salt, without indigestion. We had been shown how 
 to follow the bee from the flower to his distant hive in 
 the hollow oak ; and when the tree was felled, how to 
 despoil and rifle the gathered sweets. Whether always 
 successful hunters or no, we had learned to be patient 
 and good tempered ones ; to provide fire under many 
 disadvantages, and to kill and cook our supper under 
 as many more. Lastly, we had learned to paddle a 
 canoe ; make our own moccasins, and bag a bison. 
 Were not these accomplishments worth crossing six 
 thousand miles of sea and land to acquire? 
 
 There was one art, however, among some others that 
 shall be nameless, in which I honestly confess for my 
 part, that frequently as I have tried to perfect myself in 
 it, I never could attain the most distant success. That 
 is the art of decoying, which is at best an evil one. As 
 
LITTLE ROCK. 
 
 205 
 
 to thf jode in which the hunter raid the Indian will 
 attract the deer to their destruction, by ' bleating;' — 
 taking the gentle animal's life by treacherously exciting 
 its natural sympathies, — there is something so heartless 
 and diabolical about it, that I trust nothing w^ould 
 tempt me to practise it. Yet 1 plead guilty to having 
 sometimes tried to coax the turkeys in rather an extra- 
 ordinary way. Those feelings of pity and compassion 
 which were easily excited in behalf of the deer, were 
 certainly a little obtuse in the case of these feathered 
 bipeds, and it seemed as though the}^ had been without 
 the pale of my sympathies. The practised hunter will ^ 
 induce them to approach nim as he steals through the 
 grass, by a skilful imitation of their gobble and piping. 
 But often, as buried in the thick cane brake, and 
 watching one of those little openings where the birds 
 sun themselves, I heard the tread, rustle, and voices of 
 the turkeys around me, and have attempted to allure 
 them to me by an imitation of their notes, 1 never suc- 
 ceeded in a single instance. I set up, for example, a 
 weak, amorous, sentimental piping like the female — it 
 was in vain ! no broad-backed, round-tailed, burly 
 turkey-cock made his appearance. I gobbled in the 
 most seducing fashion, throwing as much devotion into 
 my tones as 1 could contrive ; I essayed to compress a 
 thousand blandishments into the few gutteral sounds 
 that were permissible, but these, far from dieting any 
 sympathetic response, seemed to put the whole gang to 
 instant though cautious flight; for I invariably observed 
 that very briefly, after an attempt of the latter kind, 
 every sound became hushed, but the beating of my own 
 impatient and disappointed heart. It was evident that 
 there was no mistaking me for a turkey, and all the 
 birds that I ever brought to the mess, were the fruits of 
 a less guileful, more straightforward and summary mode 
 of proceeding. 
 
 But you have now the sum of our attainments. 
 What use we were to make of them on our return to 
 civilized society, we could not tell ; but we were well 
 satisfied with our adventure>, and the acquisitions con^ 
 
 VOL. I. 18 
 
206 
 
 LITTLE ROCK. 
 
 sequent upon them ; and, 1 trust, not unmindful of, or 
 ungrateful for, the merciful preservation we had expe- 
 rienced from many evils, hidden and apparent, and for 
 undiminished health and strength. 
 
 Though we had now determined to repair in all 
 haste to the Atlantic cities to pass our winter, we at this 
 time meditated a return for a second campaign in the 
 Buffalo-range the following year — but you will see, if 
 our paiience is mutual, how that project was defeated ; 
 and how, though we again visited the West, we even- 
 tually bent our attention and steps in another direc- 
 tion, and towards another remarkable feature of the 
 American Continent. 
 
 Below Little Kock, the river seems to have escaped 
 from the hilly country, and, with few exceptions, to 
 roll his red waters through a comparatively monoto- 
 nous region. A few pine-covered bluifs of moderate 
 elevation appear on the shore from time to time ; for 
 the rest, the eternal forest and the belt of cotton-wood 
 poplar bound the view on both sides. The latter tall 
 and shapely tree is the spontaneous growth of the soil 
 throughout the rich alluvial plains of the West. When- 
 ever the earth is torn from the outer edge of the sweep, 
 and thrown up on the inner, they instantly spring up 
 in a thick and even grove, and in six or eight years 
 are large enough to be cut for the use of the steam- 
 boats. The beauty and regularity of the semi-circular 
 bends of the Arkansas are very striking. The w^idth 
 does not increase proportionably, as might be experted 
 from its great length of course, and the volume of 
 many of its tributary streams, — but this, as remarked 
 before, is one of the singular features of all the great 
 western rivers. A large quantity of surplus water is 
 drawn off into the numerous lakes and bayous by which 
 the lower region is intersected. These bayous appear 
 covered with aquatic plants, many of them most strik- 
 ing in size and beauty of flower,- — and they formerly 
 were the favourite resort of the alligator,^ though few 
 are now found as high as this latitude. 
 
 The only remarkable town below Little Rock, is 
 
THE ARKANSAS RIVER. 
 
 207 
 
 the post of Arkansas situated on the left bank, and 
 that, less on account of any thing in its appearance, 
 than for its antiquity, having been settled by the fol- 
 lowers of Ferdinand de Soto, the first discoverer of 
 these southern regions, from Florida to the frontiers of 
 Texas, as early as 1540. He penetrated, v^^ith a thou- 
 sand men, from the peninsula of Florida, across Ala- 
 bama and the Chickasaw country to the Mississippi. 
 He was probably the first white man who beheld that 
 river. Since that time, the town has been in continued 
 occupation by the Spanish and French Creoles ; the 
 latter of whom form the bulk of its population to the 
 present day. 
 
 Our steamboat was of small size, but otherwise com- 
 modious, and had it not been for a large and heavily 
 laden ark which she towed alongside, our voyage 
 would have been both agreeable and speedy. About 
 noon on the second day, we turned out of the river into 
 the singular natural canal or bayou, called the Grand 
 Cut, which connects the waters of the Arkansas with 
 those of White River. It is about six miles long, and 
 serves in time of flood to discharge a portion of the 
 surplus water of either river into the other. At this 
 time the Arkansas was flowing into White River, 
 mingling a turbid stream with the pure current of its 
 neighbour. A subsequent descent of a few miles 
 brought us to the Mississippi once more, and after 
 stemtning its current for an hour, we reached the store- 
 houses at Point Montgomery, where we landed to await 
 the arrival of the first steamboat ascending the river. 
 * The Reindeer' then wheeled round and pursued its 
 voyage towards New-Orleans, six hundred miles dis- 
 tant. 
 
 We were detained nearly two days at the Point, 
 looking with anxious eyes on the broad bosom of the 
 mighty river, which is here of great width, casting up 
 immense beds of sand, in which may be seen the wrecks 
 of numberless boats, rafts and arks, half imbedded in 
 the soil between high and low watermark. Truly, this 
 is the * terrible Mississippi !' 
 
208 
 
 MONTGOMERY'S POlNT. 
 
 Montgomerj^'s Point did not, at the time I speak ofj 
 rank either in fact or courtesy above a small hamlet^ 
 and was apparently merely of importance as the point 
 where goods might be deposited ; and whence the 
 steamboats ascending the Arkansas and Wliite River 
 could take tlieir departure. In this portion ot^ the 
 valley of the Mississippi, the settlements are yet wide 
 apart — but if the events of the future can at all be 
 augured by the past, many years cannot elapse before 
 the whole of this immensely fertile region will teem 
 with inhabitants. 1 remember listening in the dusk of 
 the evening to the sounds which were borne across the 
 wide river, indicative of the presence of man — the axe, 
 the horse-bells in the cane,— the cry of the women fol- 
 lowing the cattle ; those sounds which are the first to 
 break the silence of the forest, and soon to be followed 
 by the hum of crowds and the din of manufactories. 
 
 Forty years ago, there were but 150,000 white in- 
 habitants sprinkled throughout the confines of the great 
 valley of the Mississippi ; and now probably four 
 millions and a half, at the same time thnt every 
 avenue, from the east and sotith is crowded with fresh 
 accessions. 
 
 It would be utterly out of the question to compress 
 into a sheet or two of post paper, even the outlines of 
 those topics of interest which have a reference to the 
 phenomena, features, and past and present condition of 
 this great valley. Leaving you to consult Flint's 
 Geography for a vast mass of information which the 
 patient and worthy author has collected, I can only 
 throw together a few hints for your present perusal. 
 
 Of all the rivers wliich drain that great central valley, 
 which occupies the whole of the interior of the North 
 American continent, from the Rocky Mountains to the 
 Alleghany, and from the Mexican Gulf to the Icy Sea, 
 the Mississippi is doubtless the most remarkable, both 
 from the length of its course and that of its confluents ; 
 its individual character ; the natural phenomena con- 
 nected with it, and the great fertility of the region 
 through which it flows. 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 209 
 
 The central part of the basin from which both the 
 Mississippi, and the other great drains of the Valley 
 diverge to the north, east, and south, you must look 
 for in that wide extent of level couniry, covered with 
 innumerable lakes and swamps, which lies to the north 
 and west of the great lakes. There, interlocking with 
 one another without any intervening ridges, the innu- 
 merable sources of the Mississippi, St. Lawrence, the 
 rivers of Hudson's Bay, and those of the Icy Sea, ai^ 
 to be found; at first filtering, or flowing sluggishly 
 from one wide lake to another, and through rice covered 
 swamps, — the home of myriads of water-fowl, till the 
 accumulated waters take a decided bed, and the direc- 
 tion which God has marked for each. Many of these 
 rivers, by turning to the northward, run further and 
 further from those temperate regions where man has fixed 
 his main seat ; and little or nothing of them is known* 
 With the two principal, however, the Mississippi and 
 the St. Lawrence, it is otherwise ; and though, as yet, 
 but a small part of the immense regions which they 
 water are fully explored, and still less brought under 
 the hand of man ; yet, the day appears to be approach- 
 ing when in all probabi-lity they will be the seat of 
 millions. The idea which has been entertained by 
 many, that the whole of these central parts of the con- 
 tinent were once submerged, and that the entire breadth 
 of the region between the Alleghany and Mountains of 
 Labrador on the one hand, and the Rocky Mountains 
 on the other, was one unbroken sea, may appear extra- 
 vagant to those who have had no opportunity of visiting 
 the West, or vievt ing the phenomena which ihey present 
 in detail. I can only add one to the number of those 
 who would feel inclined to maintain the probability. 
 The whole region through which the Mississippi flows, 
 from the Falls of St. Anthony, which we reached, as 
 you will find, in the following year, bears ample evi- 
 dence of this having been the case, or at least such as 
 it would be very difficult to refer to any other theory 
 than that of the ocean having gradually retired, leaving 
 #ie waters gushing out on the surface of the earth to 
 
 18* 
 
210 
 
 THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 follow and wear themselves channels through the io- 
 dined plane, as they pursued the retiring footsteps of 
 their great parent to the several points of the compass. 
 If not to this great natural revolution, to what shall we 
 refer the evident proofs of the gradual descent of the 
 bed of the Mississippi, to be gathered from the marks 
 of the gentle, but long-continued action of water in the 
 upper part of iis course, where the river has worn 
 itself a bed many hundred feet deep; or the regular 
 horizontal deposition of earthy strata. What will ac- 
 count for the appearances afforded by the wide open 
 prairies, or the vast salt-covered plains of the Far West, 
 and as you descend towards the Gulf to those portions 
 of the country from the surface of which the waters 
 of the ocean must have retired the latest, and upon 
 which time has not yet laid the same load of alluvion 
 which covers the country more to the north — whence 
 those vast collections of gigantic sea shells^ on and 
 under the surface, to the depth of forty and fifty feet? 
 
 Leaving the St. Lawrence for the present, my sub- 
 ject is now the Valley of the Mississippi, which, taken 
 in its wide sense, comprises the whole of the region 
 between the Lakes and the Gulf, and the Rocky 
 Mountains and Alleghany, and as such, is the hirgest 
 on the globe. As to the propriety of the Mississippi 
 retaining its pre-eminence as the main river, in spite of 
 the greater length of the Missouri, I have elsewhere 
 remarked that it is evidently the central river of the 
 region. 
 
 The whole Valley is considered as lying between 
 two great planes. The eastern is comparatively nar- 
 row, and consequently the tributaries to the main river 
 on that side have a shorter course than those on the 
 opposite, which extends to the base of the Rocky 
 mountains, and over which flow the Missouri, Arkan- 
 sas, Red river, Sic. and their own tributaries. 
 
 Of the Mississippi, above the junction of the Mis- 
 souri, I may find an opportunity and leisure to tell you 
 more at a future d^y. It may be said to be a beauti- 
 ful river throughout the greater part of its upper course; 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 211 
 
 but that epithet is no longer suited to it, after its pure 
 waters have been discoloured by the junction of its 
 great tributary, the Missouri. Then, from a compara- 
 tively calm, transparent stream, flowing with a silvery 
 surface between varied shores, among islands and bright 
 sand-banks, — it becomes for the remaining part of its 
 course, a dark, turbid, and boiling torrent, sweeping 
 forward with irresistible fury ; covered with large con- 
 vex swells and whirls, like a boiling cauldron ; and in 
 its terrible alternations between Hood and low water, 
 producing such sudden changes in the surface of the 
 alluvial region through which it flows, as no one can 
 have an idea of who has Hot seen and marked them. 
 
 In the part of the bed of the river below its junction 
 with the Ohio, enormous wreck-heaps, shores cut down 
 perpendicularly to the water's edge; vast deposits of 
 mud and rubbish ; land-slips caused by the undermin- 
 ing of the banks — when the soil, with all its rich bur- 
 den of cane and forest, goes headlong into the flood, 
 and is carried away to be deposited elsewhere, — are 
 throughout to be seen. Here the stranger is shown a 
 bed of sand and soil extending over four or five thou- 
 sand acres, deposited where four years before the river 
 had its bed ; there a ' cut-ofl^,' w here, in time of flood, 
 the headlong torrent had burst over the narrow neck 
 of land which separated the opposite points of the great 
 curve which it had hitherto followed. These regular 
 semicircular sweeps, often twenty miles in circuit, are 
 a common feature of the parent stream as well as of its 
 tributaries, and display the same phenomena on a yet 
 greater scale. There you see the perpendicular outer 
 line eating into the land, and the inner, where the new 
 deposits are made, with the smooth bar swelling from 
 the water's edge, covered by its plantation of cotton- 
 wood trees, rising in regular degrees, from the red scions 
 of last year's growth, to the gray trunks of the full 
 grown tree. Innumerable ponds and bayous beyond 
 the present course of the river, choked by accumulations 
 of timber and aquatic plants, mark the spots over which 
 it had formerly run, but which have been forsaken in its 
 
212 
 
 THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Strangely capricious movements. Man has profited by 
 this inclination, and by the application of a little labour 
 at the Grand Cut-ofF, the steamboats now pass through 
 an isthmus of less than a mile in length, instead of mak- 
 ing a circuit of twenty. 
 
 Like all its great tributaries, the Mississippi is as 
 broad, a thousand miles from its mouth, as at the point 
 where it disembogues ; and even at its junction w^ith 
 the Missouri, fifteen hundred miles from the Gulf, it is 
 broader than at New-Orleans. Still eight hundred 
 miles higher, at the foot of the Falls, it is only one- 
 third less in breadth than before that city. As you de- 
 scend it, you see it receiving r'ver after river, one broad 
 stream after another, but you notice no accession to its 
 width. The Missouri, — the Ohio, — the Arkansas, — 
 the Red river, pour in their floods of waters — all seem 
 swallowed up in a bottomless channel. The mud of 
 the Missouri, and bright red of the Arkansas, colour 
 its waters, and perhaps add to its impatience and swift- 
 ness, but not to its expanse. After its junction with the 
 Red river, the Mississippi carries its greatest volume; 
 as about two leagues below, the first important bayou 
 opens in the right bank, which, though four hundred 
 miles from the ocean, carries off a portion of the waters 
 to the Gulf. This is the bayou Atchafalaya, which is 
 believed to be the ancient bed by which the Red river 
 communicated with the Gulf, ere it became a tributary 
 of the Mississippi. Below this point the outlets are 
 numerous. 
 
 The medium breadth of the river below the Missouri 
 may be considered as a mile from bank to bank, with a 
 current of four miles an hour in ordinary stages of the 
 same ; but it often expands to a much greater width ; 
 and seen from the bluffs of Memphis, for example, with 
 its wide shoals, islands, and indented shores, it struck 
 me as much more resembling an arm of the sea than an 
 inland river. 
 
 As to insurmountable impediments to the navigation 
 from the Gulf to the Falls, there is none beyond those 
 which are caused by occasional low waters at the Des 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 213 
 
 Moines Rapids, fifteen hundred miles from its mouth, 
 and the severity of the winter, in the higher parts of its 
 course. 
 
 Those vast accumulations of drift timber, which are 
 remarked on some of its tributaries, growing year by 
 year, so as entirely to impede the navigation, are not 
 found in any part of the main river. Toward the 
 delta they indeed form the basis upon which the sand 
 and mud subsides, and give rise to the innumerable 
 acres of new land, by which the continent is yearly en- 
 croaching upon the domain of the ocean. By far the 
 most remarkable accumulation of this kind in the West, 
 I may observe, was the great raft obstructing the na- 
 vigation of Red river a few hundred miles above its 
 point of junction with the Mississippi, where, owicg to 
 natural causes, a compact body of floating timber, one 
 hundred and forty miles long, and from half a mile to 
 a mile in breadth, interposed, till lately, a stupendous 
 and yearly increasing barrier to the navigation of the 
 higher parts of the river. That this should ever decay 
 or be cut away would have seemed a hopeless expecta- 
 tion, and so any one would have said in 1832 ; but in 
 the course of the succeeding year, an attempt was made 
 by Captain Shreve, who by making a few judicious 
 cuts, succeeded in actually clearing away seventy miles 
 of the raft, and the steamboats then ascended as far as 
 the Caddo Agency, a point seventy-one miles higher 
 than could be reached by them in the spring. The 
 raft was found to cover full one-third of the whole sur- 
 face of the river, with a medium depth of twenty -five 
 feet of timber, often compact and solid to the very bot- 
 tom. Seventy miles still remained to be removed, but 
 that has been probably done by this time. In the Mis- 
 souri and Mississippi, the greatest danger to navigation 
 arising from natural causes, may be justly attributed to 
 the position of trees deeply imbedded with their roots 
 in the river, and called according to their fixed or 
 moveable position, snags, planters, or sawyers; and so 
 great lias been the loss of life and property by the 
 steamboats striking on them, that, herculean as the task 
 
214 
 
 THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 may appear, the attempt has been made to free the 
 river from this imoediment, partly by destroying the 
 snafus, and partly by cutting down the timber on the 
 banks. For the former purpose, two steamboats of 
 peculiar construction have been employed for some 
 years, under the direction of the above-mentioned en- 
 gineer, and much has already been done. In the 
 twelve months terminating in September, 1833, the 
 two snag-boats under his direction had raised and cut 
 off I960 snags, and in the intervals, when high water 
 prevented the pursuing this branch of their labour, 
 the crews had felled ten thousand trees from the banks. 
 But it is time to bring this letter with its various con- 
 tents to a conclusion. 
 
 LETTER XVIIL 
 
 On the evening of the second day, a small cloud of 
 white steam, seen like a star in the dark blue shade of 
 the forests, seven or eight miles off, announced the ap- 
 proach of a steamboat toiling up the river. In half 
 an hour's time we could distinguish the sonorous 
 breathing of the scape-pipe, and by the time that the 
 wild song or the negro firemen reached the ear, all 
 was bustle and preparation. The bell on shore w^as 
 rung to bring the steamer to ; and jumping into a 
 wherry, we found ourselves on board the * Cavalier,' 
 a boat of the second or third class, bound from New 
 Orleans to Pittsburg, and took possession of the berths 
 which we eventually retained till our arrival at Wheel- 
 ing a fortnight after. We found that since they had 
 left the city, they had had no case of cholera on board, 
 and thanked God with all our hearts. 
 
 You may imagine us then toiling for thirteen hun- 
 dred miles and upwards against the rapid currents of 
 the Mississippi and Ohio. This, at a season when 
 
THE CAVALIER STEAMBOAT. 
 
 215 
 
 natural scenery had lost its charm, you will suppose 
 must necessarily have proved a trial of patience. In 
 some degree I grant that it was such, nevertheless not 
 so great as might be argued by those who know the 
 impatience of modern travellers ; and now that it is 
 over, I look with interest upon all that we learned or 
 experienced. 
 
 1 will not, however, present you with any thing in 
 the form of a journal. It was the 3th of December 
 when we left Montgomery's Point : we halted at 
 Memphis in Tennessee on the 7ih, and reached the 
 Mouth of the Ohio on the 10th. Little did we fore- 
 see that that very day twelvemonth we should be again 
 at the same spot on our descent from the Falls of St. 
 Anthony to New Orleans. 
 
 We found that the Ohio was in flood, and at Louis- 
 ville, which we reached on the 13th, the steamboat 
 passed straight up the Rapids, instead of going 
 through the canal. The 15th was spent at Cincinnati, 
 and finally on the 21st we landed at Wheeling, and 
 continued our route by land over the Alleghany to 
 Baltimore. But I have still some scenes and events to 
 record before we quit the West. 
 
 Poor M'Connaughy ! He made his appearance on 
 board the ' Cavalier' in piteous plight. A few daj^s 
 before, he was sober — possessed of a good character — 
 with good prospects ; home before him and ninety 
 dollars ready money in his pocket. He was now 
 stripped of clothes, sense, character, and cash. At 
 Little Rock he had met with one of the numerous 
 gangs of sharpers always lying in wait for the weak 
 and unwary. He quarrelled with his companion for 
 giving him good advice ; and after being well flattered 
 and then made tipsy, he became the complete dupe of 
 the unprincipled crew. He first, as related, broke his 
 engagement with us and wished to stay. He then 
 suddenly made a tipsy resolve to descend the river and 
 continue his voyage home by steamboat : but his new- 
 found acquaintances sturk to him like blood-suckers. 
 The sharper, whose dupe he had principally been, 
 
216 THE CAVALIER STEAMBOAT. 
 
 had come on board the * Reindeer,' ragged from head 
 to foot, half-drunk, with his head tied up in a dirty 
 cloth, his linen sprinkled with the blood of the last 
 broil : — but as M'Connaughy waned he waxed, and 
 after a day spent in gaming, swopping, and debauch 
 at Montgomery's Point, the two parties were seen in 
 very altered guise, to wit : Private M'Connaughy, so 
 exceedingly tipsy that he could not tell his shoulder 
 from his elbow, — flushed, — without shoes or waistcoat, 
 - — attired in a torn blue surtout with a faded velvet 
 collar, for which he had given twenty dollars, a pair 
 of old drawers hanging over his heels, no hat, and 
 pennyless. Mr. M'Sharper, exceedingly decent and 
 sober ; garbed in a good pair of military trowsers, an 
 excellent blanket coat, a pair of span new boots, a 
 pocket full of money, and a chest full of clothes. All 
 his backers too looked the better for this fortuitous 
 gleam of sunshine. 
 
 The upshot of the business was that our poor tipsy 
 paddler was left ashore, through his own carelessness, 
 at some landing place, about three hundred miles up 
 the river, and thus had probably to begin the world 
 anew : and as to the principal swindler, the bandaged 
 ruffian, he, being detected before he had been a day on 
 board in the act of theft, was, on the whole affair 
 being represented to the Captain, promptly set on 
 shore on a sand-bar in the middle of the river, to shift 
 for himself Prompt justice and well-earned, — almost 
 worthy of the good old reign of the Regulators. 
 
 No sketch of mine could give you an adequate idea 
 of the steamboat of the West. From the epoch of the 
 launch of that solitary Wanderer, whose first voyage I 
 have elsewhere recorded, up to the close of 1833, it is 
 computed that about five hundred boats of various 
 sizes, from one to five hundred tons burden, had been 
 constructed or run upon the Mississippi and its tribu- 
 taries. A very small portion of these were built prior 
 to 1820, and the number of new boats launched yearly, 
 for several years back, is stated to have been upwards 
 of fifty. 
 
THE CAVALIER STEAMBOAT. 
 
 217 
 
 There is a great difference between the build and 
 interior arrangement of the Eastern and Western 
 steamboat, and both are essentially distinct from those 
 unadorned but compact vessels, which, propelled in the 
 same manner, buffet the boisterous and dangerous bil- 
 lows of our narrow seas, straits, and roadsteads. 
 
 As to the Enstern steamboat, the whole of the hold 
 is converted into cabins — the transport of heavy freight 
 being no part of the speculation ; they are superior in 
 finish and durability, but not in appearance, to those of 
 the West, and cost much more ; being, moreover, al- 
 most invariably furnished with low-pressure engines. 
 On the contrary, the whole of the hull of the steam- 
 boat of the West being appropriated for the transport 
 of goods, the cabins are generally constructed upon 
 the main-deck. The vessels consequently appear much 
 higher out of the w^ater, and every one must be greatly 
 struck at the first sight of these huge floating palaces, 
 with their double tiers of gay cabins. The boilers, 
 which are cylindrical, and vary from four to double 
 that number, are placed forward on the main-deck ; 
 and behind them the machinery is arranged towards 
 the centre of the vessel, enclosed between the huge 
 paddle-boxes, and a row of offices on either side. 
 The great cylinder lying in a horizontal position, 
 the piston works on the same plane. Thus in the 
 Western boat the whole arrangement and movement of 
 the engine is horizontal, while in the East it is perpen- 
 dicular. Sometimes a ladies' cabin is constructed on 
 the same deck, in the stern of the boat ; but, more 
 generally, this part is given up to the so-called deck- 
 passengers, and the whole range of superior cabins is 
 built upon an upper deck, extending from the stern 
 over that part of the vessel where the boilers are situ- 
 ated, the portion most in advance being called the 
 boiler-deck. Through the latter, the great chimney 
 pipes conducting the smoke from the fires below ascend, 
 and as the range of cabins does not extend quite so far, 
 the open space and the view afforded by it renders it a 
 favourite lounge. Of the disposition of the cabins little 
 
 VOL. I. 19 
 
218 THE CAVALIER STEAMBOAT. 
 
 need be said. The ladies' apartment is aft, and opens 
 with sliding doors and curtains into the main, or gen- 
 tlemen's cabin, which is frequently fifty or sixty feet in 
 length. Both are furnished with handsome tiers of 
 upper and lower berths, canopied with ample chintz 
 or moreen curtains, and the former cabin is frequently 
 fitted up with state-rooms. A gallery runs round the 
 whole exterior. Between the forward end of the great 
 cabin and the boiler-deck, ten or fifteen feet of the 
 deck is ordinarily occupied by a bar, washing-room, 
 captain's and stewards' offices, ranged on either side of 
 an antechamber. On some of the larger class of 
 steamers, there is j^et a third deck and range of cabins 
 before you come to the roof, or hurricane-deck — upon 
 the forward extremity of which the glazed and painted 
 cabinet, containing the tiller, is placed, affording a lofty 
 and unimpeded view of the channel. 
 
 As to the question often started with regard to the 
 safety of the principle upon w^hich the machinery is 
 generally constructed in the West, much might be said 
 in favour of high-pressure engines ; and in spite of my 
 full consciousness of the great danger attending them, 
 when placed, as they frequently are, under the care of 
 incompetent and careless persons, I think that the rea- 
 sons given are good. These are chiefly founded upon 
 the character of the w^aters navigated ; their turbid 
 state, their extraordinary swiftness, requiring the ap- 
 plication of great power; the far greater simplicity of 
 construction of the high-pressure engine, — all the com- 
 plicated condensing apparatus being dispensed with, 
 which is of great consequence in a navigation where a 
 boat must proceed five or eight hundred miles without 
 the possibility of repair ; — its superior lightness, and its 
 being calculated to work off all the steam which is 
 generated ; and lastly, the mud is not apt to accumu- 
 late so fast in the boiler of the high-pressure engine, 
 being blown out at the safety-valve, while under the 
 low-pressure system it must continue in the boiler, and 
 by interposing a stratum between the water and the 
 
THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 219 
 
 iron, the latter is sometimes burnt through, and explo- 
 sion takes place. 
 
 Yet, though it may thus be well maintained that the 
 high-pressure engine is belter fitted for the Western na- 
 vigation, — as long as the accidents upon those waters 
 are so frequent, and the loss of human life so great as 
 it has been for some years past, it is no wonder that 
 great prejudice must exist in the minds of many with 
 regard to the system pursued. It is not, however, the 
 principle which is wrong — it is the careless use of it. 
 The history of steamboat disaster is one of the most 
 terrible and revolting imaginable ; and the disregard 
 of human life which is as yet, generally speaking, a 
 feature of the West, is a sure proof that the standard 
 of moral feeling is low. 
 
 I have seen so much during four or five thousand 
 miles of steam navigation in this part of the country, as 
 to believe, that there are few voyages of more evident 
 peril in the world than that from St. Louis or Louis- 
 ville to New-Orleans, or vice versa ; for, leaving out of 
 the question the casualties incident to the navigation, 
 arising from snags, ice, rocks, fire, or being run down, 
 in consequence of which numbers have perished, — 
 the peril which impends over you from a tremendous 
 power like that of steam, being left under the direc- 
 tion of incompetent or careless men, is a constant and 
 fearful one."^ 
 
 The sketch of a day's proceedings on board will 
 perhaps give you a livelier idea of our position, and of 
 the scenes connected with it, than can be otherwise 
 conveyed. 
 
 State-rooms are not always to be had by gentlemen, 
 
 * By a published list of the steamboats lost on the western waters, 
 from July, 1831, to July, 1833, their number would appear to be sixty- 
 seven, viz. — Seven burnt under way ; nine in port ; twenty-two snag- 
 ged ; two sunk by rocks ; five by running foul ; seven by ice ; and 
 fifteen abandoned as unfit : and previous to that time, out of one hun- 
 dred and eighty-two, which had been on the river, but did not exist 
 in 1831, sixty-six had been worn out ; thirty-seven snagged ; sixteen 
 burnt ; three run down ; four or five stove by ice or rocks ; and thirty 
 destroyed otherwise. 
 
220 THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 as they are commonly found to be attached to the la- 
 dies' cabin alone — but in case they are unoccupied they 
 may be secured, and your position is so far more than 
 ordinarily a favoured one, as you have private access 
 to them by the outward gallery. Otherwise it must be 
 conceded that nothing is omitted that the known inge- 
 nuity of this people can contrive, to render the berths 
 in the main cabin as tidy and ornamental in appearance 
 by day, and as secluded and convenient by night as 
 circumstances permit of. They are so arranged, that 
 when you retire to rest, the thick curtains with their 
 vallance can slide forward upon brass rods, two or three 
 feet from the berth itself, and thus form a kind of draped 
 dormitory for you and your companions. 
 
 About an hour before the time appointed for break- 
 fast, after the broom has been heard performing its 
 duty for some time, a noisy bell rung vociferously at 
 the very porches of your ear, as the domestic marches 
 from one end of the cabin to the other, gives notice that 
 the hour of rising has arrived, and it is expected that 
 every one will obey it, and be attired in such time as to 
 allow the berths to be arranged, and the whole cabin 
 put in its day dress, before the breakfast, which like all 
 the other meals is set out in the gentlemen's cabin, is 
 laid upon the table. In vain you wish to indulge in a 
 morning doze, and thus to cut short the day ; every 
 moment your position becomes more untenable. Noises 
 of all kinds proceed from w^ithout. You persevere — 
 shut your eyes from the bright light which glares upon 
 you through the httle square window which illumines 
 your berth, and your ears to all manner of sounds. 
 Suddenly your curtains are drawn unceremoniously 
 back, the rings rattle along the rods, and you see your 
 place of concealment annihilated and become a part of 
 the common apartment, while the glistening face and 
 bright teeth of the black steward are revealed, with 
 eyes dilated with well acted surprise, as he says, ' Beg 
 pardon. Colonel ; thought him war up: breakfast al- 
 most incessantly on de table.' He retrogrades with a 
 bow, half-closing the curtains ; but you have no choice, 
 
THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 221 
 
 rise you must. Happy he whose foresight has secured 
 to him all the enjoyment of the luxury of his own clean 
 towels, as none but the disagreeable alternative of dry- 
 ing his person by the heat of the stove, can be the fate 
 of him who has not done this. As to making use of 
 the common articles, hung up for the accommodation 
 of some thirty citizens in rotation, no one need blush 
 at being termed fantastically delicate in avoiding that. 
 There exist yet certain anomalies in a position, and 
 under a state of society, like that found on board these 
 boats, which, though they may not surprise a thinking 
 mind, and maybe accounted for, are far from being 
 either pleasant or usual elsewhere. And the arrange- 
 ments made of the above class are surely of this kind. 
 
 But I do not dwell much on these fertile subjects for 
 a traveller's maunderings, for four reasons. First, be- 
 cause they are but blots on the general picture, and as 
 blots they are considered by all those Americans whose 
 opinions are worthy of attention. Secondly, others, 
 more competent to the task, have contrived to make 
 them sufficiently notorious. I'hirdly, time and a sense of 
 common propriety may have already produced changes 
 for the better ; and, lastly, they are disagreeable both 
 to recollect and to detail. 
 
 During the interval which elapses between your be- 
 ing thus unceremoniously ousted from your quarters 
 and forced to begin the day, and the ringing of the 
 breakfast-bell, you may walk forward to the boiler-deck, 
 and satisfy yourself as to the progress which has been 
 made during the hours of darkness ; or, if you choose 
 to follow the custom of the country, and the example 
 of a great majority of the passengers, you may linger 
 in the antechamber opposite the bar, and take the glass 
 of wine and bitters, which the prevalence of that com- 
 mon complaint of the United States, dyspepsia, finds a 
 bad apology for. The Americans, as a people, are far 
 from being intemperate ; if by intemperance you mean 
 absolute inebriety, of which less is seen, as far as a 
 casual observer, like myself, might judge, than in any 
 country in Europe. But if by intemperance you ua- 
 
 19* 
 
223 
 
 THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 derstand a habit of the frequent unnecessary indulgence 
 in stimulants and dram-drinking, then do they richly 
 deserve the stigma ; though the improvement and the 
 return to sound feeling in this respect, has been so 
 general in many parts of the Atlantic States, that the 
 stricture can hardly be applied to them. But in the 
 West and South, the custom prevails to a degree ruin- 
 ous to the moral and physical strength of a great part 
 of the male population. And whoever has been w^it- 
 ness to the mode and the marvellous rapidity with which 
 the hot cakes and viands of the plentiful tables of steam- 
 boats and hotels are cleared and consigned to the stom- 
 ach, without the possibility of having undergone the 
 natural process of preparation, which nature has indi- 
 cated as advisable, both from the number and construc- 
 tion of the human teeth, and the original smallness of 
 the sw^allow, need seek no further into the arcana of 
 natural causes to account for the pale faces, contracted 
 chests, and lack-lustre eyes of a great number of citizen 
 travellers in all parts of the West. Compared w ith this, 
 what are the effects of climate or sedentary life ? or 
 even the possible hinderance to a natural and easy di- 
 gestion consequent upon the internal heat generated by 
 republicanism, and the weight of democratic cares ? 
 
 But I have anticipated breakfast by alluding to its 
 principal feature. The table is spread with substantials, 
 both in profusion and variety ; and considerable impa- 
 tience is generally observable to secure places, as it 
 frequently happens that the number of cabin passengers 
 is greater than can be seated with comfort at the table, 
 however spacious. The steward, or his assistant, after 
 many a considerate glance at his preparations, to see 
 that all is right, goes to the ladies' cabin, and announces 
 breakfast — an announcement which is generally fol- 
 lowed by their appearance. They take their places at 
 the upper end of the table, and then, and not till then, 
 the bell gives notice that individuals of the rougher sex 
 may seat themselves. The meal I leave to your lively 
 imagination to picture. I have noted its chief charac- 
 teristic. You might imagine that the beings engaged 
 
THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 223 
 
 in it were, for the time, part of the engine, which is 
 sighing and working underneath at the rate of one 
 hundred strokes in the minute, so hltle does their oc- 
 cupation admit of interruption. There is little or no 
 conversation, excepting of the monosyllabic and ejacu- 
 latory kind which is absolutely necessary ; and instead 
 of the social hour, during which, in other lands, the 
 feast of the body is often found to be compatible with 
 the feast of the soul, — you spend, in fact, an uneasy ten 
 minutes, in which the necessary act of eating is cer- 
 tainly stripped of all the graces under which supercul- 
 tivation contrives to shroud its sensuality, and is re- 
 duced to the plain homely realities of bestial feeding. 
 Wo to the poor gentleman of habitually slow and care- 
 ful mastication — he who was taught to ' denticate, mas- 
 ticate, champ, chew, and swallow !' Wo to the man 
 of invariable habits— he whose conversational powers 
 are the greatest during repast — the proser — the senti- 
 mental bon-vivant who loves to eat and think — or the 
 gentleman with stiff jaw-bones and slow deglutition ! 
 Wo to the epicure, whose eye might well else dilate at 
 the sight of the well covered board, and its crowd of 
 western delicacies. Wo to the hungry gallant, whose 
 chivalry cannot suffer him to enjoy a morsel till he has 
 seen the ladies well served and attended through the 
 meal. Small credit gets the good-natured soul who 
 deftly carves for all, and ever carves in vain. There 
 is no quarter given. Many of the males will leave the 
 table the moment they are satisfied — the ladies leave it 
 as soon as they well can : — and then in come the bar- 
 keepers, engineers, carpenter, pilot, and inferior officers 
 of the boat: the table again groans with its load of 
 plenty, and is again stripped and forsaken, to be a third 
 time the scene of feasting for the black steward and 
 coloured servants of both sexes. During these latter 
 scenes of the same act of the same play, 1 need hardly 
 press you to quit the cabin for the seats on the boiler- 
 deck, or still better, for the hurricane-deck above. 
 
 In fine warm weather, more especially during your 
 first voyage in the West, both curiosity and comfort 
 
 / 
 
224 THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 will lead you to spend by far the greater part of your 
 time in the open air ; where the gentle breeze, fresh- 
 ened by the rapid motion of the boat, and the magical 
 manner in which scenes rise and disappear, will al- 
 ways cheer you, while with conversation and reading 
 you while away the monotonous hours of a long morn- 
 ing. Should the boat be one of the first class for power, 
 well commanded and carefully engineered, and the sea- 
 son fine, few situations could be named of an equally 
 exciting character. It is possible that you may meet 
 with a few well-bred, intelligent travellers — that you 
 may be both in good health and good-humour — that 
 the general run of the voyage may be prosperous and 
 without accidents or detention. The steamboat may 
 have an engine which works smoothly and without 
 jarring, so that the use of your pen may be easy ; you 
 may have contrived to keep a few books in your trav- 
 elling equipage ; — the cabin may be fully adequate to 
 the comfortable accommodation of those having a claim 
 to its use. Above all, favourable circumstances may 
 have given you friends in the ladies' cabin ; by occa- 
 sional visits to whom at proper seasons, you may 
 please and be pleased. If so, well and good — but you 
 may chance to fare otherwise, and for the sake of illus- 
 tration we will suppose that the very contrary is the 
 case in almost every particular ; that, heated in body 
 and mind by confinement and disappointment, you 
 are peevish as a pea-hen ; that the society is decidedly 
 ill-bred and vicious — that the boat jars so with every 
 stroke of the piston that you cannot write a line — fur- 
 ther, that you have no books — the cabin is crowded — 
 the machinery wants constant repair — the boilers want 
 scraping. This hour you get upon a sand-bank, the 
 next you are nearly snagged — drift-wood in the river 
 breaks your paddies — the pilot is found to be a toper, 
 — the engineer an ignoramus — the steward an econo- 
 mist — the captain a gambler — the black fireman insur- 
 gent, and the deck-passengers riotous. This moment 
 you have too little steam, and hardly advance against 
 the current ; another, too much, and the boat trembles 
 
THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 225 
 
 with the tremendous force exerted by the power that 
 impels her. To complete your dismay, the captain 
 agrees to take a disabled steamboat, or a couple of 
 heavily-laden barges, in tow for the next four or five 
 hundred miles. Instead of accomplished females, such 
 as at another time you might have as fellow-passengers, 
 we will suppose the ladies' cabin to be tenanted by a 
 few grotesque, shy, uninteresting beings, never seen 
 but when marshalled in by the steward to their silent 
 and hurried repast, and never heard, but when, shut up 
 in their own apartment, a few sounds occasionally es- 
 cape through the orifice of the stove-pipe, making up 
 in strength for what they want in sweetness. 
 
 What are you to do in such cases ? You may lounge 
 in the antechamber, and watch the progress of stimu- 
 lating at the bar — you may re-enter the cabin, and 
 strive to get possession of a chair and a gleam from 
 the stove ; or you may ascend to a small apartment 
 found in some steamboats, called Social Hall, in other 
 words a den of sharpers and blacklegs, where from 
 morning to night the dirty pack of cards is passed 
 from hand to hand. For the rest, you may study 
 human nature in many forms, and one thing will not 
 fail to strike you, and that is the marvellous rapidity 
 with which the meals follow, and the world of import- 
 ant preparation which passes before your eyes for an 
 end so little worthy of it. 
 
 The time occupied by the supple-limbed black boys, 
 Proteus and William, in drawing out the long table, 
 laying the cloth, and other preliminary preparations, 
 will not be far short of an hour ; while a quarter of 
 that time suffices for the demolition of the various 
 courses, — the whole meal, as already described, con- 
 sisting of a shove to the table, a scramble, and a shove 
 from the table. Things are cleared away, and the 
 sliding table pushed together again ; William and 
 Proteus placing themselves at either end, twenty feet 
 apart, and straining with might and main till the ends 
 meet. You take a dozen turns across the floor, — you 
 read a little, write a little, yawn a little — when, before 
 
226 THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 you could have believed it possible, the stew^ard's 
 myrmidons, with looks of infinite importance, enter 
 again — seize on the two ends of the table, strain them 
 once more asunder, and the work of preparation re- 
 commences. 
 
 The mass of the society met with upon the Western 
 boats is, as far as a transient traveller may be allowed 
 to plead his individual experience, to be designated by 
 the single term, bad. It is one thing to deny the truth 
 of a statement in which, I believe, most travellers of 
 any pretensions to education and moral feeling agree, 
 whether they be from the Eastern or Midland States, 
 or from Europe ; and another to find palliative reasons 
 why it cannot be otherwise for the present. A man 
 may make up his mind to glance good-humouredly 
 around him, and to look upon the unwonted society 
 into which he is here introduced, with equanimity, 
 studying neither to give nor take oflfence ; but nothing 
 can make him believe that what appears before him as 
 absolute vice, is in fact virtue in disguise, — or that 
 consummate vulgarity is, in fact, any thing else. My 
 impression was, that in these boats we came in contact 
 with much of the scum of the population, and in judg- 
 ing them to be such, I was far from believing that they 
 were a fair sample of the people of the West generally. 
 On the contrary, it was not the uncouth and unculti- 
 vated, but honest bearing of the people ' belonging to 
 the river,' which was offensive, — rusticity and vulgar- 
 ity are far from being synonymous terms — nor that of 
 the young Kentuckian, noisy and intemperate as he 
 might be, stunning your ears with an amusing and 
 fanciful lingo, which, however some who should know 
 better may attempt to dignify and perpetuate, is, after 
 all, nothing but slang. The decidedly worst company 
 was, I found, invariably made up of those who should, 
 considering their pretensions to education, public em- 
 ployment, or the sober lives and civilization of the 
 stock from which they came, have known better. And 
 to this class belong many of the Americans, who travel 
 on business connected with commercial houses in the 
 
THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 227 
 
 large or small towns. They are as busy as wasps 
 in a sugar cask as long as they are about their busi- 
 ness, and the most listless of human beings when not 
 so employed. They have apparently no thought, no 
 reading, no information, no speculation but about their 
 gains — dollar is the word most frequently in their 
 mouths ; and judging from them and their numbers, the 
 proportion of men with money and without manners 
 would appear to be greater in this part of the globe 
 than elsewhere. 
 
 There is one operation connected with your daily 
 progress, which may be signalized, as it affords some 
 variety, and breaks the monotony of your proceedings. 
 This is wooding, or the hour's halt at one of the 
 innumerable farms or wood-yards, for the purpose of 
 laying in the necessary stock of fuel ; the quantity of 
 which that is burned in the course of twenty-four 
 hours on board a steamboat of four or five hundred 
 tons, is almost incredible. 
 
 This halt generally takes place twice a day, morn- 
 ing and evening, when the whole of the bow of the 
 boat, and on either side of the furnaces, is covered with 
 regular piles. Besides the opportunity thus afforded 
 of going ashore, the scene is always a busy and lively 
 one, as in addition to the crew being engaged in it, 
 the major part of the deck passengers lend a hand, in 
 consideration of a reduction in the passage money, 
 which it is to the advantage of the proprietors to make, 
 as this procedure is productive of a great saving of 
 time. During the night, immense fires are kept blazing 
 at the wood-yards, to direct the boats where to find 
 them, and the scene then presented in wooding is 
 highly wild and picturesque. 
 
 Among the beings attached to a Western steamer, 
 there is one class too remarkable to be passed by, and 
 this is composed of the firemen, the sphere of whose 
 labour is directly on the bow of the boat, upon which 
 the long row of gaping furnaces open. They are almost 
 invariably athletic negroes or mulattoes. The labour, 
 which would be considered pretty severe by all but 
 
228 
 
 THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 themselves, is generally performed amid bursts of bois- 
 terous merriment, jests, and songs ; and the peculiar 
 character of the latter has often made me hang over 
 the boiler-deck railing to listen ; particularly after dark, 
 when the scene was very striking from the bright ruddy 
 glare thrown upon and around them, while with a 
 thousand grimaces they grasped the logs and whirled 
 them into the blazing throat of the furnaces. Their 
 ordinary song might strictly be said to be divided into 
 a rapid alternation of recitative and chorus — the solo 
 singer uttering his part with great volubility and alert- 
 ness, while the mass instantly fell in with the burden, 
 which consisted merely of a few words and notes in 
 strictly harmonious unison. 
 
 As usual we were not without our quantum of K(3n- 
 tucky boatmen and backwoodsmen on board, that race 
 whose portrait sketched by himself as ' half horse, half 
 alligator, with a dash of the steamboat,' and filled up 
 by the wondering and aw^e-struck travellers from the 
 Old World, has been so often the subject of mirth and 
 obloquy. I fear the genuine breed is getting rather 
 scarce ; at least, though I saw many boisterous doings, 
 and many an amusing specimen of rough manners, I 
 never saw any one stabbed or gouged. Take, how- 
 ever, the portrait of the extraordinary ' Kentucky 
 Swell,' who was our fellow-passenger for a day or 
 two in the Cavalier. He came up with the boat from 
 New-Orleans, accompanied by his father, a fine, hale, 
 sensible old man, clad in a suit of home-spun from the 
 loom of his wife and daughters. He had perhaps also 
 been a * swell' in his youth, but all had sobered down 
 into an independent, staid demeanour. Every word 
 he spoke was full of good, sound sense — that kind 
 which age and experience can alone produce ; and my 
 slight intercourse with him added to the respect w^hich 
 I feel to those of his class, in whom generous feeling, 
 sound practical sense, and shrewd judgment, are often 
 found united with unassuming manners and simple- 
 heartedness. His maxim, the wisdom of which he 
 upheld, after bringing up a fine family of sons, was — 
 
THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 229 
 
 * I give my boys seven years' play, seven years' labour, 
 and seven years' instruction ;' and though his youngest, 
 whose figure will be before you anon, evidently showed 
 that a few years more must pass, before all the good 
 fruits of this system were fully developed, I am not at 
 all inclined to dispute it. 
 
 They were returning from New-Orleans to their plan- 
 tation. The dress of the parent I have alluded to. That 
 of the son bore no resemblance to it. He was strong 
 and well built, having what is rather a rarity in the 
 West, shoulders of a breadth proportionate to his height. 
 His countenance, which was good, with a bold aqui- 
 line nose, bore a strong resemblance to that of his 
 parent, though it was for the present destitute of the 
 expresssion of good sense and honest-heartedness by 
 which the latter was eminently distinguished. His 
 whole dress and manner were peculiar. A coat of 
 strong blue cloth of the Jehu cut, with white bone but- 
 tons of the Jehu size, the standing collar of which wa^ 
 always pulled up over the ears, and concealed them be- 
 neath its shade, served at the same time, in consequence 
 of its being tightly buttoned from throat to waist, to hide 
 the neckcloth and waistcoat, of the existence of neither 
 of which am I therefore able to make affidavit. This 
 upper garment, which was certainly typical of the horse 
 part of his nature, impended over a pair of full corduroy 
 pantaloons. The legs of the same, though constructed 
 by the artist of amplitude sufficient to reach the ankle, 
 if they had been allowed to do so, having apparently 
 been elevated to midleg in the act of drawing on a pair 
 of half boots, remained hitched on the top of the latter 
 during the whole of the first day of my observations, no 
 effort having being made to induce them to descend to 
 the ordinary position. On the second, one descended 
 and the other did not, and in this way Tom Lavender 
 sported his Nimrod-looking person. I never saw his 
 hands ; as whether sitting, standing, or walking, they 
 were always thrust decidedly to the bottom of the large 
 flap pockets of his Jehu coat. 
 
 In the manner in which he disposed his person in the 
 
 VOL. I. 20 
 
230 
 
 THE WESTERN STEAMBOAT. 
 
 cabin, when inactive, upon two or three chairs, basking 
 before the fire, with his nose erect in the air, I thought 
 I detected something of the alligator part of his origin ; 
 while in the impetuous manner in which, striding for- 
 ward with outstretched limbs, he perambulated the 
 cabin or the deck to take exercise, alternately inflating 
 his cheeks, and blowing forth the accumulated air, I 
 could not fail to detect the steamboat, by which the 
 purity of the race had been recently crossed. He was 
 a man of no conversation, but he made up for it by an in- 
 cessant hoarse laugh, filling up the pauses in that of three 
 or four trusty young cronies, who seemed to hold him 
 in great respect and consideration. 1 should not forget 
 to mention, that at a later period I was informed, that 
 the mode of wearing the pantaloons hoisted half leg high, 
 as described above, was premeditated, and intended to 
 give an ^ air distingue T 
 
 About noon on the second day, the steamboat was 
 directed to the right hand, or Kentucky shore, at a point 
 w4iere the forest appeared cleared from the bank for 
 many hundred yards in front, and the long line of 
 fencing peered over the edge, denoting a large and ex- 
 tensive clearing. As we approached the landing-place, 
 I noticed a little group gathering at the corner of a pile 
 of cut wood, ranged on the high bank above. Over the 
 landing-place, inclined a single sycamore, supported by 
 his main, perpendicular root over the river, with all his 
 leafless branches surrounded by the sweeping folds of a 
 gigantic grape vine. A fine handsome man stood in 
 advance, and upon our mooring, came slowly down to- 
 wards the boat. His resemblance to the old man on 
 board was too striking to leave us in doubt as to his 
 relationship to the parties I have described, being that 
 of an elder son and brother. Our companions had then 
 reached their home. While a knot of negroes and col- 
 oured men descended to the boat, with their teeth dis- 
 played in the broad grin of welcome, and laid officious 
 hands upon the pile of baggage which lay on the boiler 
 deck in readiness, I noticed the wife and daughter of the 
 good old man, half sheltered by the woodstack, standing 
 
RETURN TO BALTIMORE. 
 
 231 
 
 coyly in the rear, till the whole group had ascended the 
 bank, when they all proceeded in joy and contentment 
 to the house. The dwelling was situated a few hundred 
 paces in the rear — good and substantial, w^ith an open 
 conripartment in the centre, such as I have described 
 elsewhere. I got a glimpse of it by following the party 
 up the bank; for to tell the truth, the meeting was both 
 a pleasant one to see, and one calculated to make travel- 
 lers like ourselves, thousands of miles from our native 
 countries, feel a little homesick ; and, notwithstanding 
 the amusement I had extracted from the * Swell,' 1 could 
 have found it in my heart to envy him the snug home 
 and warm welcome which we saw him receive. 
 
 But I must draw to a conclusion. Through God's 
 good providence, we escaped dangers and difficulties of 
 every kind, — and there were many encountered before 
 we reached Wheeling, just as the river was filling with 
 ice. There we took a stage, and proceeded over the 
 Alleghany into Maryland. We arrived early on Chiist- 
 mas-day, within a few miles of what was to be the termi- 
 nation of a ver} long and singular ramble; when we 
 got unexpectedly overturned in descending the Catoctia 
 Mountain, into a deep ditch ; and though we all escaped 
 with limbs and lives, I got a sounder blow on the head 
 than ever fell to my lot before ;— which was all very 
 well ; as it made me, perhaps, think more seriously than 
 I should else have done, of the many dangers which the 
 hand of God had led us through, in peace, health, and 
 safety. 
 
232 
 
 TRAVELLER!^. 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 It was but the other day I was in company with a 
 gentlemanly foreigner — a Prussian ; acute, reasonable, 
 and polite, travelling for his instruction and amusement, 
 to see with his own eyes, and to hear with his own ears. 
 The conversation turned upon the difference of the crim- 
 inal law in our respective countries, and the mode of 
 procedure in criminal cases. Two things had struck 
 him with reference to that of England ; first, the weight 
 which we gave to mere circumstantial evidence, in the 
 absence of positive truth; and, secondly, the horrible 
 severity of our code, and the administration of it. He 
 stated he had been seated for hours in the court of ses- 
 sions in one of our southern cities, and that out of 
 twenty or thirty cases under consideration, not a single 
 prisoner was acquitted. He was quite horrified ! Ac- 
 cusation and conviction seemed to go hand-in-hand. 
 The time occupied in any one case was, as he stated, 
 quite insufl5cient for patient investigation ; but his blood 
 curdled as he heard — Guilty — guilty — guilty ! pro- 
 nounced again and again by the foreman of the jury, 
 before he had had time to make himself master of the 
 bare accusation. The idea fixed, by the evidence of 
 his own senses on his mind, was this : that, in Eng- 
 land, every man who was accused, must be, and was 
 condemned. And 1 wish you could have seen how wide 
 he opened his eyes, when he was forced unwillingly to 
 relinquish his belief by a calm explanation of the series 
 of preparatory steps through which every individual 
 ease had passed, before it had come to the point where 
 he had seen it arrive, for positive decision. Of the ex- 
 amination before a magistrate, the reconsideration of 
 cases by a grand jury, he of course had, till now, no 
 
TRAVELLERS. 
 
 233 
 
 opportunity of hearing; but he was brought to confess, 
 after a while, that, all things considered, it was hardly 
 to be conceived that innocence, if innocence there were, 
 would not have been made evident in the previous 
 stages of inquiry, and that nothing but uncontrovertible 
 evidence of guilt could be received and made the cause 
 of condemnation. 
 
 However, something was to be learned from this, and 
 I trust I was not myself above profiting by the lesson, 
 which many years of travel have assisted in impressing 
 upon my mind ; namely, that a stranger in a strange 
 land sees with strange and partial eyes, and that the 
 difficulty of forming a correct judgment, even with close 
 observation, and without any disposition to distort facts, 
 is far greater than might be supposed. 
 
 Much has been said by Americans of the temper and 
 manners of English travellers among them, and there is 
 hardly a book published hitherto, bearing upon their 
 social and political state, which has not been followed 
 by a host of aagry criticisms in the periodicals from 
 Maine to Georgia. I grant it, they have had much to 
 complain of; and considering all things, the chuckle of 
 gratification which agitated ihe people of the Union, 
 when lately, his transparency Prince Pucklar Muskau 
 first drank our wine, and then wrote a libel on us, was 
 such as might be sympathized with. 
 
 Their visiters are accused, and, it must be allowed, 
 frequently with justice, of coming with minds influenced 
 by prejudice, and carrying away, perhaps, an honest, 
 but certainly an unlucky bundle of false estimates, false 
 impressions, and false conclusions. Might it not be ad- 
 mitted, that travellers from both sides of the Atlantic 
 have hitherto been, with but rare exceptions, of minds 
 and characters little calculated to carry back to their 
 own land just notions of the countries they have been 
 pleased to visit, and further pleased to write about. 
 
 It is to be lamented, that, at the present day, when 
 travelling forms, as it were, not only part of the educa- 
 tion of a gentleman in our own country — the main recre- 
 ation of thousands of those who have the means in the 
 
 20^ 
 
234 AMERICAN TRAVELLERS IN EUROPE- 
 
 middle classes, and almost the business of hundreds— 
 that so few understand anything of the philosophy of 
 travel. How few show, by their mode of passing 
 through a foreign country, and their occupations and 
 temper, that they are actuated by the nobler ends attain- 
 able by the survey of other countries than their own ; 
 and for one who will show by his conversations and 
 writings, on his return home, that his mind and views 
 have been participants in that expansion which his range 
 of travel has procured for his natural observation, how 
 many come back with confirmed prejudices and nar- 
 rowed souls 1 
 
 And with regard to Great Britain and the United 
 States of America, but little has been done hitherto by 
 the travellers from either side of the Atlantic to do 
 away with that dust of angry passion and prejudice 
 which filled and blinded the eyes of our fathers, both 
 before and after the struggle which burst the ties which 
 till then existed between them. Still, though family 
 quarrels are said, and perhaps with reason, to be of a 
 more bitter nature than any other, it is surely time that 
 between the inhabitants of the British isles and those of 
 the opposite shores of America — speaking the same lan- 
 guage, claiming the same literature, the same early his- 
 tory ; both possessing the same ardent love of liberty, 
 though the one may incline to the monarchical, and the 
 other to the democratic form of government, — wor- 
 shipping God after the same manner ; each containing 
 thousands of real Christians, united together as brethren 
 by the closest bonds of the Gospel, with common hopes, 
 desires, and ends in living ; and the one receiving yearly 
 accessions of thousands from the shores of the other — ' 
 should cease to deem one another natural enemies. 
 
 I am among those whose personal experience inclines 
 me to believe, that the impulse in America in particular, 
 is towards a renewal of confidence, and the return of 
 kindly feeling towards the country from which they 
 have taken the broader features of their constitutions 
 and character, and whose blood was the blood of their 
 fathers ; and this in spite of the irritation kept up by 
 
AMERICAN TRAVELLERS IN EUROPE. 235 
 
 the press on either side. Yet how little have travellers, 
 either American or English, done hitherto to foster this 
 natural feeling. 
 
 Of the English travellers niore anon z in the mean 
 time I would ask, were I at the elbow of one of my 
 friends beyond the water, who might join the general 
 voice of his countrymen in condemning our injustice and 
 illiberality, — whether, as Europeans, and more, as Eng- 
 lishmen, our position, political, moral, and domestic, had 
 been subjected to examination of eyes and minds less 
 clouded by self-love, prejudice, and ignorance ? I grant 
 the overweening love of John Bull for his country — - 
 (may it never diminish !) his sober contempt for all others 
 — his excess of prejudice, — the ignorance which he will 
 frequently expose as to the real situation of another 
 country ; yet is Brother Jonathan less prejudiced and 
 less ignorant? To judge their words by works of the 
 Americans, are they more disposed to hear good of 
 England than we of America? Are their hackneyed 
 and senseless tirades against our monarchical form of 
 government and aristocracy more just than ours against 
 their democracy ? From whom is the citizen of the 
 United States to get his knowledge of the true state of 
 society, political or moral, in England? From the dis- 
 affected who come over to him ? From the radical or 
 democratic prints which are the favourites, and from 
 which most of the information given to the American 
 public is culled ? From the novels of the present day, 
 reprinted and spread through America from east to west 
 with such haste and avidity, — the feverish outpourings 
 of the flimsy philosophers and would-be 'master-spirits' 
 of the age, which are given forth to a gaping public as 
 true portraitures of the manners and morals of the 
 * best society V Is America to judge of the Old World 
 from the testimony of her own citizen travellers ? Of 
 these my limited observation has shown me three classes; 
 besides the young merchant who takes a short run while 
 his vessel lies in port, and comes back with the credit of 
 having travelled in Europe. 
 
 The first is the most numerous, and consists of young 
 
236 AMERICAN TRAVELLERS IN EUROPE. 
 
 men having the wealth at command, who, either from 
 curiosity, or for the sake of doing as others have done, 
 or for the sake of learning: the European languages, pass 
 a few years in travel. They visit France ; breakfast at 
 the cafes ; dine at the reslaurans ; linger in Paris and 
 taste its follies, till health and funds begin to fail ; they 
 run off to Italy, and scour back by Switzerland and the 
 Rhine, taking England on their way home. In the latter 
 country they sneer at everything, see no society beyond 
 the bagmen and the roue at the hotels, — a dinner at their 
 merchant's the topmost round of their ladder. They 
 grumble at their consuls and ambassadors for not show- 
 ing them more respect, and not dancing attendance upon 
 them ; they go out in a fuss and come back in a fume. 
 At home they boast of having travelled — having dined 
 at Abellard's, supped at Bery's, intrigued with some 
 hanger-on at the operas or theatres, and sported a Stullz, 
 Their republicanism has been preserved undiluted, or 
 even been concentrated by the feeling that Europe had 
 no grade of society where they could feel quite at home. 
 They do no credit to their own country, and are little 
 capable of communicating just notions of Europe or 
 European society ; while unfortunately these are the 
 very men from whom the popular idea of American gen- 
 tlemen has been taken. 
 
 The second class are those who come to Europe with 
 a disposition and the means to enjoy European life and 
 luxury. They return in a few years unfortunately 
 spoiled for their own country. They complain of ennui 
 — want of excitement. Dazzled by the false glare of 
 society in Europe, without the talent which would teach 
 them to look beyond it, and form an accurate judgment 
 of its peculiar advantaoes, they have become blind to 
 the charms of their own country, and its claims upon 
 their love and duty. The healthy, but less polished 
 society of the United States, is tasteless to them. The 
 simplicity and matter-of-fact qualities of their country- 
 men become odious. They only breed and receive dis- 
 gust, and by showing how little they have gained from 
 
AMERICAN TRAVELLERS IN EUROPE. 
 
 237 
 
 European travel, they strengthen prejudice in the nainds 
 of their fellow-citizens. 
 
 The third class, hitherto a very small one, but I know 
 it to be increasing — equally distinct from the republican 
 flippancy of the first, and the mawkish pretence to 
 super-cultivation of the second. The individuals com- 
 osing this class have not only the means, but they 
 ave the minds that fit them for travel. Education 
 has sown seeds which the latter matures. They step 
 upon the shores of Europe with bosoms filled with eager 
 and natural enthusiasm, and upon that of England with 
 a feeling, which, if it cannot be called love, is, at least, 
 veneration. They may pass years abroad, revelling in 
 classic, historic, and poetic association ; visiting many 
 climes ; peeping into many degrees of society, the high- 
 est and the lowest; looking calmly at men and things, 
 and learning that God has not averted his face from the 
 Old World, because he has turned it on the New. 
 They may form many ties, and linger till it might be 
 prophesied, that, flattered, caressed, and accustomed to 
 the excitement and luxury of Europe, their thoughts 
 and hopes were weaned from America ; and yet such 
 will return with panting bosoms to their own land — 
 their eyes will glisten so as they have not glistened for 
 years at the sight of their own verdant shores — and 
 they calmly sit down in the bosom of society, and show, 
 by every wo^'d and action, that their birthright and 
 home have never been relinquished. The excitement of 
 Europe has passed away ; but they find sufficient in 
 the return to early scenes — the faces of ancient friends 
 — the marvels which an absentee for a few years must 
 discover in this land of promise, and in the glorious 
 prospects for the future, sufficient to fill both head and 
 heart. Having brought away a just conception of Eu- 
 rope, and of its deficiencies or advantages, they may be 
 su[)posed to have formed a just estimate of America ; 
 and having been temperate in their use of the luxuries 
 of the former, their palate is not so depraved that they 
 cannot enjoy the more simple advantages of the latter. 
 
238 
 
 ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA. 
 
 They were an honour to their country abroad, they are 
 calculated to be an honour to her on their return, and 
 wherever the influence of their tennper of mind is felt, 
 society will be essentially benefited. 
 
 Such examples, and I could name many among those 
 whom I esteem as friends, make you not only honour 
 the individuals themselves, but the country they call 
 their home. 
 
 With regard to English travellers in the United 
 States, do not imagine that I am without a list of them 
 also, which I shall forthwith find and lay before you, 
 leaving you to detect that to which I may be supposed 
 to belong. Though our countrymen are found by 
 swarms upon the teeming roads of France, Switzerland, 
 and Italy, here their appearance is rarer, and therefore 
 more marked. I mention first the Porcine English 
 traveller, as personifying in the eyes of Brother Jona- 
 than the identical John Bull. A few of this class are 
 met with on the steamboats and railroads, and a strag- 
 gler or two in the interior of the country, marching on- 
 ward to the music of their own dissatisfied grumbling, 
 like a bear with a sore head. They are seldom long 
 visitants. They arrive from England on a hurried tour, 
 sometimes accompanied by a companion in training, 
 one of those who travel over the world with their eyes 
 shut and mouths open. They are sure to be disgusted 
 with the United States, where they have neither room 
 nor time to do any thing. They complain of crowded 
 steamboats; crowded hotels and boarding-houses; 
 crowded carriages ; of the sharpness of people's el- 
 bows ; the quickly satisfied appetites and the unre- 
 strained gaze of all — the impertinent inquiries of a few. 
 They see nothing but want of polish, want of taste, and 
 want of politeness. They ask how many of the states 
 are included in the term Christendom. They rush from 
 New- York to Saratoga ; from Saratoga to Niagara ; 
 thence to Detroit ; and then, in utter disgust, determine 
 to quit the land of eq'.iality, and, in a paroxysm of loyalty 
 
ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA. 239 
 
 find rekindled toryism, get themselves set ashore in 
 Upper Canada ; little dreaming, that the backwoods^ 
 whether of Canada or tlie United States, are alike 
 devoid of convenience; and that every new country, 
 whether under democratic or monarchical rule, presents 
 pretty much the same phases of society, and the same 
 natural features. We met with such a one: a decent 
 gentleman, but in a paroxysm of despair, not knowing 
 how to extricate himself from a position, into which a 
 crudely conceived desire of travel had beguiled him. 
 We had advantages over him in every way as old trav- 
 ellers — laughing at a certain degree of privation — and 
 our commiseration was, I own, mingled with a good 
 deal of amusement, the more as his case was in no way 
 a desperate one : but his complaints of the people, and 
 the roads, and the fare, and the morals, were unceas- 
 ing. After having been squeezed in a narrow wagon 
 with others during a whole day's journey, and hardly 
 allowed time to eat the unwonted food set before him — 
 he had been compelled to sleep, as all must in such a 
 country, in a cluster of log-huts, half open to the air. 
 He had, from his description, out of compliment, (I 
 never had such a piece of good fortune,) been permitted 
 to occupy a small compartment by himself ; and after 
 describing the bad accommodations, he went on to say, 
 with a very slow mysterious intonation, as though com- 
 municating a horrible incident, ' And, sir, will you 
 believe it, I found that in the end 1 had to sleep with 
 two ladies inside of me !' Now, stout as the gentleman 
 was, by this he meant nothing, but that two ladies, trav- 
 ellers like himself, had had to retire to a compartment 
 beyond his own. This, however, was to him the acme 
 of barbarism. What good can be the result of such a 
 traveller's lucubrations? 
 
 But to go on with my list. You see here the specu- 
 lator, the theorist, and the utilitarian ; often men who, 
 unable to take care of their own individual affairs, begin 
 to feel great anxiety for those of mankind in general ; 
 as you may have seen in days gone by, a tipsy gentle- 
 man, when just upon the point of losing his reason, begin 
 
MO 
 
 ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA. 
 
 to hold forth in a strain of maudlin philanthropy about 
 his neighbours, and sigh deeply for the welfare of the 
 whole human race; crowning his folly, by ofFerin^]: his 
 services to conduct an equally tipsy companion home. 
 Such men frequently make their appearance in Amer- 
 ica ; disappointed and indigent; having lost character 
 in their own country, and full of a newborn fervour in 
 favour of a land and a people of which they know 
 nothing. Their indignation at having divulged their 
 theories in the former to deaf ears, will only be equalled 
 by their surprise in finding that, of all countries in the 
 world, the United States contains the greatest number 
 of matter-of-fact men ; and that neither admiration nor 
 support will be granted to crude and untried notions. 
 And, like the demagogue, the freethinker in politics and 
 religion, and many a one who leaves his country in high 
 dudgeon, after long tampering with petty treason — men 
 of this class frequently alter their opinions and language 
 after their arrival here, as they find a sobriety of de- 
 meanour and sentiment in the people, which ill accords 
 with their views ; and then they abuse the country with 
 just as much reason as they lauded it before. But what 
 good is to be expected from these, or their reports, on 
 either side of the Atlantic? 
 
 Next comes the hasty traveller — the young oflScer on 
 furlough — the young gentleman on his return home from 
 the West India Islands, who lands at New- York, deter- 
 mines to take advantage of the packet to Liverpool on 
 the first of the succeeding month, say a fortnight hence, 
 and in the mean time to visit the most interesting points 
 of the United States and Canada. He flies to Niagara 
 by the canal or the road ; then takes the line of Ontario 
 steamboats, descends the Saint Lawrence to Montreal, 
 perhaps visits Quebec, returns panting by w-ay of Cham- 
 plain and Lake George, to the Hudson, and thus to his 
 port in the very nick of time. Something he has seen, 
 but can carry away no very definite notion of the people, 
 or the state of the country. 
 
 Another class — the prejudiced and pompous travel- 
 ler, travelling, as he says, for information, but seeing 
 
ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA. 241 
 
 every thing through a bilious medium, and neither 
 pleasing himself nor others. In the cities he will 
 grumble at the hotels ; he will say that Bunker's and the 
 City Hotel in New York are odious ; that Gadsby's 
 at Washington is a bear-garden, — in which by the 
 way he will not be far from the truth, particularly dur- 
 ing the meeting of Congress, — and that of all the 
 sojourning places for the traveller in the Union, the 
 Tremont at Boston is the only one that is not offensive 
 to a degree. In the country he will be horrified by 
 the number of badly made coats he may see, forgetful 
 that at least he meets with no beggars, and sees no 
 marks of penury and want. With a mind morbidly 
 inquisitive, he will wish to persuade himself that he 
 understands the true colours of every thing, at the same 
 time he looks at all through a piece of smoked glass. 
 In his observations upon the politics and government 
 of the country, he is totally at fault, not having taken 
 care to draw the distinction between the operations of 
 the General Government, and those of the separate 
 State Governments ; and in his observations upon 
 society, he will be equally far from just, because he 
 makes his own education, breeding, and feelings, the 
 standard of comparison, and what he does not or cannot 
 understand, must be wrong. The very absence of 
 beggars will be to him a proof of a low degree of civi- 
 lization. He will condemn the Americans for not every 
 where showing that cultivation to which he may have 
 supposed we have attained, being perhaps of two lofty 
 a temper to reflect, that some of the points appertaining 
 to the decencies or elegancies of life, upon which he 
 dilates with the most cutting and supercilious sarcasm, 
 are precisely those, to an acquaintance with which we 
 ourselves, as a nation, have been but very recently 
 introduced, and whose general adoption dates from a 
 yet later period. An Englishman of this cast will be 
 thunderstruck, nay, petrified, at hearing the oft-reiter- 
 ated assertion, that English is spoken better in America 
 than in the mother country, and with some reason, as 
 nothing but his own observation and reflection will 
 VOL. I. 21 
 
242 
 
 ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA 
 
 show him what foundation can possibly exist for such 
 an assumption. 
 
 If he stays long enough in the country, and travels 
 sufficiently, he will grant that throughout America he 
 will generally hear Enghsh pronounced, as he may 
 readily understand it. Further, that the dialects which 
 prevail in many of our counties do not exist, though in 
 some parts of the Eastern states, a language very much 
 approaching to a dialect is spoken ; for the rest, he 
 will find that though as far as the general pronunciation 
 of the language goes, all may be at least intelligible, 
 there will be a great deal which an Englishman can 
 hardly be expected to understand ; that slang, quite 
 as incomprehensible to him as the gipsy lingo of our 
 own hedge-sides, forms the common mode of communi- 
 cation in some parts of the country; and that, generally 
 speaking, there are few ranks of society in which a 
 certain degree of this base coin is not current. He 
 will find from the style of conversation of Americans of 
 a literary turn, that out of the main cities, and in remote 
 parts of the country, it is evident that the difference 
 between written and conversational language is scarcely 
 understood, — which may arise from the speakers having 
 to draw their language more from books than from the 
 interchange of ideas with men of their own stamp ; 
 and that consequently the use of big and pompous 
 words, such as load the newspaper paragraphs, is much 
 more common than good taste would admit. But 
 enough of the pompous traveller. He may do very 
 little harm, but he will do no great good. 
 
 You may further meet here with the sentimental 
 traveller, who having read Rousseau and Chateau- 
 briand, and become enamoured of the image of man 
 in a state of nature, unsophisticated and unspoiled by 
 civilization, or of some sweet picture of savage life, 
 dives his way through the forests to the Indian settle- 
 ments, to find an amiable ' Chactas,^ or still more ami- 
 able ^AtalaJ 'Tis a bootless errand ! The bland 
 traveller also, good-natured to excess, losing half his 
 time in asking questions of those who cannot answer 
 
ENGLISH TRAVELLERS IN AMERICA. 
 
 243 
 
 them, and running right and left to see common places ; 
 — the book-maker, he who comes with the purpose of 
 writing a book which shall contradict one in the mar- 
 ket : — the inquisitive gentleman, a bore, and bored in 
 turn. Then one or two travellers who having long 
 and hotly advocated some change in our political or 
 ecclesiastical government, come here at last, to do what 
 should have been done first — namely, to see how It 
 works. What can you expect but ex-parte statements 
 from such people f They are like geological theorists, 
 who having concocted their system in their librarj- 
 chair, come forth and make a tour, in which they would 
 refer all the phenomena which come in their way to the 
 test of their own petty conception. 
 
 And now I fancy I hear you ask, and to what 
 order of English travellers in America did you belong ? 
 The Porcine ? No. The speculator, theorist, or 
 demagogue ? Neither the one nor the other. The 
 hasty traveller ? Not altogether. The prejudiced and 
 pompous ? I trust not. The sentimental ? Decidedly 
 not. 
 
 Then you travelled as a cosmopolitan ? — No : I 
 dislike the word. I love, and prefer, and uphold the 
 political, social, moral, and religious superiority of my 
 own native country too sincerely, to claim the title of 
 ' a citizen of the world,' if by that term you mean one 
 who is equally at home and without preferences where 
 ever he wanders over its broad surface ; but if by it you 
 would designate one who reconciles himself easily for 
 a time to change of place and scene ; — one whose im- 
 pulse is rather to sing with the native of a foreign land 
 than to quarrel with him ; to see good ever^'where ra- 
 ther than evil ; — one with a facility to form ties with the 
 natives of every clime, and enter into their usages and 
 feelings not only with charity but with pleasure, so long 
 as they are not forbidden by his Bible, and by the sense 
 of right and wrong which sound education and good 
 examples may have given him — so far I am a Cosmo- 
 politan, and as such I visited America. 
 
 E?vD OP VOL. r. 
 
* 
 
/ i/ 
 
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