A SUMMER JOURNEY IN THE WEST.




                                   A

                            SUMMER JOURNEY

                                  BY

                             MRS. STEELE.

                            [Illustration]


                               NEW-YORK.

                     PUBLISHED BY JOHN S. TAYLOR,

                          145 Nassau Street.




                      SUMMER JOURNEY IN THE WEST.


                            BY MRS. STEELE,
                 AUTHOR OF HEROINES OF SACRED HISTORY.


              “I write that which I have seen”--LE BAUM.


NEW YORK: JOHN S. TAYLOR, AND CO. (Brick Church Chapel, 145 Nassau-St.)
                                 1841.

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by JOHN S.
   TAYLOR & CO. in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the
                    Southern District of New York.




PREFACE.


This little book assumes to be nothing more than a note book of all that
passed before the observation of the author, during a summer tour of
four thousand miles, through the great lakes; the prairies of Illinois;
the rivers Illinois, Mississippi, and Ohio; and over the Alleghany
mountains to New York. Since she has been ‘urged by friends to print,’
the author has added to her notes and letters, some little information
regarding the western States, in hopes her book may be of use to future
tourists and emigrants, who will here find an account of the distances,
prices, and conveyances, throughout the author’s route. Anxious to guard
against errors, information acquired upon the road, has been compared
with the best Gazeteers. Accuracy, in a newly settled country, is
difficult, and accounts differ much; still the author trusts the
traveller who may honor her by taking her book for his guide, will not
be far mis-led.

_New York, May, 1841._




A SUMMER JOURNEY.

“I write that which I have seen.”--LE BAUM.




LETTER I.


JUNE 14th, 1840.

_My dear E._--The variety of scenes which have passed before my eyes
since I last beheld you, and the crowd of new ideas acquired thereby,
have not obliterated your Shaksperian adieu from my mind:

    “Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply see’st
    Some rare note-worthy object in thy travels,”

were your last words--in consequence of this desire, I hereby send you
all I deem note-worthy. With what delight did I find myself once more
upon the Hudson! Although so often seen, to me it is still lovely, for
custom cannot stale its beauties. I pass along this river as through a
gallery of cabinet pictures. The sunny vista and romantic glen of
Gainsborough--the frowning cliff and murderous dell of Rosa--the Dutch
cottage of Teniers--the Italian villa and graceful trees of classic
Weir--cattle, as if just sprung from out a Berghman and grouped upon the
shore, or standing ‘in the cool translucent wave,’ their ‘loose train of
amber-dropping hair,’ not being ‘braided with lilies,’ but occupied in
flapping the flies away!--all these, and many more are placed side by
side before me as I float along.

You have never seen this famed stream, and I will therefore describe it
to you minutely. Mine will not be ‘notes by the way,’ nor ‘crayoning,’
nor ‘pencil sketches,’ but perfect Daguerrotype likenesses of all I see.

With a bold rush our steamboat was free of the wharf and out into the
stream. Ascend now to the upper deck with me and you will obtain a fine
view of the city of New York and its noble bay. Upon one side lies the
city with its mass of houses, churches, and vessels; beyond is Long
Island. Observe what a pretty back ground is Staten Island: its numerous
white buildings show well against the green elevated ridge behind them;
then turn your eye to the opposite side and you will behold New Jersey,
with its pretty city, and villages, and churches; and in the center of
all this is the glassy water covered with steamboats, brigs, ships of
war, and vessels of all sizes, and dotted with pretty fortress islets.
Hoboken with its neat church and romantic colonade are passed, and the
rugged cliffs of Weehawken rise upon our left as we ascend the river.
These cliffs are the commencement of the Palisade rocks, which soon
retreat into the interior to arise again above. Bull’s Ferry (worthy of
a better name,) next appears, with Fort Lee, pretty rural retreats,
whose white houses, churches, and fences, are pencilled as with white
chalk upon the river’s green and sloping bank.

From the east side, turret and spire have passed away, and villages and
country seats adorn the shores until we arrive at Spuyten Duyvel creek,
rendered famous by the redoubtable Van Corlear, who swore he would pass
it in spigt den Duyvel; and also as being the boundary line of Manhattan
Island. To a hasty observer, the shores beyond this are as lonely and
wild as if we were hundreds of miles from any city; but if you will fix
your eyes steadily upon the woodlands which line the river banks, you
will catch glimpses, between the trees, of Grecian portico, Yankee
piazza, or Dutch gable, telling of many a summer haunt of the city’s
‘tired denizen.’

Upon the west side the Palisade commences, a perpendicular wall, or to
speak more scientifically, ‘a columnar escarpement,’ from three to eight
hundred feet high, and two miles broad, thus continuing for twenty miles
along the New Jersey side of the river. As you dabble in geology, I must
not forget to tell you these rocks are of the trap formation, passing
into green stone. Under it are layers of slate, sandstone, and grey
limestone, much of which is used in the city and its neighborhood.
Sloops were lying at the foot of the rocks, as we passed, taking in
their load of sandstone flagging, or roofing slate for the use of the
citizens. These sloops, which carry masts sixty or seventy feet high,
show the height of these cliffs, as when seen anchored below them they
appear like skiffs. A few stone-cutters have erected cottages upon the
rocks, which might be taken for children’s houses. Shrubbery is seen in
some spots, while a green fringe of trees is waving from the summit.
These rocks have stood the brunt of that mighty torrent which wise men
tell us once rushed over the country from the north-west, as if some
lake had burst its barrier--for bowlders washed from the Palisades are
seen in various parts of Manhattan Island and Long Island. To the
alluvium brought down by this flood, we are indebted for Manhattan
Island and Staten Island. What a pity ‘wise saws’ are out of fashion, or
I could lengthen my epistle by telling what ‘modern instances’ these
islands are, of the ‘good’ brought down by ‘ill winds.’

As we are both now tired of these Palisades, it is very pretty of them
to retire as they do, into the country, making a fine back ground to the
rich land lying upon the river’s bank, adorned with several picturesque
townlets. These are Nyack, reclining upon a verdant slope; Haverstraw,
nestled under a high, green promontory; and Tappan, which ought to have
been first mentioned. This is, however, but the ‘landing’ of the town of
that name, lying a few miles in the interior, and whose ‘heavens’ ought
to be ‘hung with black,’ for the sake of the talented and unfortunate
Andre, whose silver cord was here untimely loosed.

The river swells out into a broad lake, called Tappan sea, which ought
to be spelled Tap-pann Zee. The west side I have described, except that
from these towns the ground rises into an elevated green ridge of
Haverstraw, and then descends gracefully to the water, ending in a low
level spot, covered with a rich velvet sward, dotted with groups of
oaks, and evergreens, among which a silver rivulet winds its happy way.
This is very prettily called Grassy Point.

Upon our right hand we have smooth, lawn-like slopes, over which the
buildings of Yonkers, Tarrytown, and Dobbs’ Ferry (harmonious sounds,)
are straggling, or reposing in graceful groups upon every gentle swell.
Sing Sing, with its long range of prisons, is before us; so called, I
suppose, that the inhabitants of those abodes may have something
cheerful about them. It is a lovely spot commanding a beautiful view of
the river scenery--so lovely that I am almost tempted to be _wicked_,
that I may be ordered to reside there, and sit like a Naiad sing singing
upon a

                      “diamond rock,
    Sleeking her soft alluring lock.”

That is all very well, you will say, when the rock is already cut out
for you to sit upon; but where one is obliged to hew out one’s own rock,
as do these woful sing-singers, it would be as well to abandon the place
to the heroes who there do congregate. They quarry a white granular
limestone which is used as building material. The antique Dutch church
looks very well, seated upon an eminence; and Wolfert’s Roost, with its
Dutch points and gables, the residence of the celebrated Irving, is
another interesting object upon this shore.

Look behind you quickly, if you would take a last farewell of Staten
Island, whose dark outline has, until now, filled up the back ground,
although we are thirty miles from it. As we turn towards the narrow
outlet between Stoney and Verplanck’s Points, the Palisades are sweeping
around to the east, and rapidly shoving in their side scene between us
and the Island. Now it is gone, and the Narrows are fast being covered,
through which you might, if your eyes could see so far, descry the green
ocean and its gallant barks. The river now seems a lake behind us, upon
whose bright bosom a fleet of vessels, like a flock of birds, are
skimming, and ducking, or reposing upon the water. Two _Points_ defend
the entrance to the Highlands: Stony Point on the west, a bold rocky
promontory, formed of fine horneblend granite rock, and surmounted by a
light-house; Verplanck’s on the east presents a small village,
containing a pretty fanciful hotel, and some lordly dwellings upon the
elevated ground above. These are now behind us, and we find ourselves in
the Grand Pass of the Highlands. Beautiful creations they are--high,
green cones, sweeping gradually down to the water’s edge, where they
sometimes appear a verdant precipice nearly two thousand feet high; or
projecting their spurs into the river, and crossing each other so that
the Hudson must wind hither and thither to follow the tortuous path
between them. Various lights give new beauties to these hills. It is
pleasant when the sun shines broad and bright upon them, to penetrate
with your eye their green recesses, or endeavor to distinguish whether
those bushes on the summit are indeed trees or no; and again when a
cloud passes, running rapidly over the surface, the effect is very
beautiful. As we were near the centre of the Pass, the sun was obscured,
and a heavy shower clothed every thing with gloom.--Through the sombre
light they seemed like giant mastadon or mammoth of olden times,
couching down upon each side, musing upon the changes which have taken
place upon this diluvial earth. The rain has ceased, and the mist has
all retired into the mountain caves, save on one spot near the summit,
where it lowering stands, like one of Ossian’s ghosts, whose wont it is,
he tells us, to ‘fly on clouds, and ride on winds.’ Or, it may be the
wandering spirit of some red warrior who has perished on these shores,
and now haunts the scene of his former triumphs.

Upon a promontory jutting out from the river, are situated the Military
Schools of West Point. It is a summer’s day well spent to ramble over
that pretty spot. If you care not for the Schools, nor to see the
orderly young cadets, you may admire the monument dedicated to
Kosciusco, or walk in his garden as they call the spot where he used to
‘sit on rocks’ and muse upon the sweets of Liberty--or you may climb up
to that ruined fortress crowning the summit of the mountain which
overhangs the Point. From thence you have a fine view of all the rugged,
cultivated, wild, adorned and varied country for miles around--and of
that broad silver stream bearing upon its waters many a graceful vessel.
The dusky peaks and dells, and undulations of the several mountains
around are here distinctly seen.

The Dunderberg, where is the thunder’s home, raises its frowning head at
the right, followed by Bare Mountain, Sugar Loaf, Bull’s Hill, Crow’s
Nest, Butter Hill, Breakneck Hill, and many others bearing designations
equally euphonius. Among these hills, beside West Point, are many spots
famous in the history of our country. Do not be afraid, I am not going
to begin ‘In the year 17--’ nor tell of the iron chain which bound
Anthony by the nose to the Fort opposite; nor arouse your indignation
by pointing to the chimneys of Arnold’s house; nor make you sad by
speaking again of Andre; nor arouse your patriotism by relating the
deeds here done in times of old. Let the past be _by-gones_; and turn to
the present whose sun is shining down upon the pretty village of Cold
Spring opposite to us, and upon that romantic white chapel dedicated to
‘Our Lady of Cold Spring,’ which is so tastefully perched upon a rock
washed by the Hudson’s waters. At West Point is a depot of fossil
enfusoria, and sulphur has also been found. Shooting out of the Highland
Pass, we find ourselves in a broad expanse of water, presenting some of
the prettiest views to be seen upon the river. Seated upon the
elevations of the left bank are many towns; Newburgh being the most
conspicuous as it is the largest: and it is built upon a high cliff of
argillaceous slate, thus displaying its numerous houses and churches to
advantage. The opposite shore presents a beautiful green mountain wall,
the highest peak of which is 1689 feet above the river. At its foot
reposes the smiling town of Fishkill.

I must not linger thus by the way. Remember I have four thousand miles
to travel and the summer is passing. Imagine then to yourself a broad
and beautiful river, skirted with cultivated country with often a
mountainous back ground, and rich with ‘summer’s green emblazoned
field’--and wafting upon its waters river-craft of all forms, from the
lazy whaler returning after a four year’s cruise, to the little pleasure
yacht. There are many towns on this river, one of which, Poughkeepsie,
is rendered famous as being the place where Washington, Hamilton, Jay
and Chancellor Livingston met, to compose the Constitution of the
United States. The city of Hudson is agreeably situated upon the summit
of a slaty cliff commanding a view of the Catskill mountains, and the
town of Athens on the opposite bank of the river. Imagine, scattered
like gems upon the borders of the stream, pretty villas of Grecian,
Gothic and nondescript styles, the homes of the Livingstons, Dewitts,
Ellisons, Verplancks, Van Renselears, Schuylers, and other gentlemen of
taste and wealth. I saw nothing of those Dutch elves and fays which the
genius of Irving has conjured up, among the dells and rocks of the
Hudson--those creatures are unfortunately out of fashion; and one might
as well look for them as for high heeled shoes. Perhaps they will come
in with the ancient modes. If I thought so, I would immediately order
hoop, train, cushion, buckle, high heel, and all the odious costume
which rendered my ancestresses so hideous. Alas I fear the ‘mincing
dryades’ with high crowned hats, are all departed--and no more--

    “On the tawny sands and shelves,
    Trip the pert fairies, and the dapper elves.”

Albany appears at great advantage seated upon a side hill, presenting a
mass of imposing buildings surmounted by many a tall steeple, and
crowned by the Capitol and City Hall, from whose gilded dome the evening
sunbeams are brightly streaming.

I have said nothing about my gallant bark, nor my company--the first a
large and rapid steamboat, arranged with satin cushioned and canopied
saloons--the latter a mixture of all countries and sexes.

But we are at the wharf and I must put up my papers. Adieu.




LETTER II.


JUNE 15th, 1840.

_My dear E._--We shall of course remain in Albany during the Sabbath for
the pleasure of worshipping that kind Friend, who has showered upon us
the blessings we are now enjoying. In the morning we walked to the
church of a Baptist clergyman, Mr. W----h, who has been long celebrated
as a very interesting preacher. This church is a handsome marble
structure, surmounted by a dome, and adorned by a colonade of pillars in
front. The lecture room is below, and we ascended to the chapel, a neat
apartment with a good pulpit and commodious seats. Mr. W. sprang from an
obscure station, being a mechanic, and therefore could only obtain a
common education. What he is, he has made himself, or rather was made by
the Holy Spirit; for we all know how religion refines and elevates the
intellect of man, as well as his affections. After his conversion he
rapidly improved, and now one is astonished at the beauty and purity of
his language. He is not an animated preacher, nor does his _forte_ lie
in arousing a sinner; but he shows forth the truth and beauty of
religion, and expounds the Gospel doctrines with a power and grace, and
clearness, which fascinate the hearer. This church is always crowded by
the _elite_ of Albanian society of all sects, and by the strangers who
are in the city.

In the afternoon we attended service in an old Dutch church, one of the
oldest in the city. It is built of brick, and boasts two spires which
give it a singular appearance. The interior is richly fitted up, with
gilded chandeliers and many comforts and elegant conveniences. Here we
found ourselves surrounded by the old Dutch families, whose fathers
emigrated from Holland and settled themselves here; among them were the
family of the Patroon. I looked around with pleasure upon the sober
benevolent faces of the congregation, for I have always felt a very
kindly sentiment toward our Dutch brethren. The peaceful, even tenor of
their lives; their contented spirit, their industry and integrity
entitle them to our most ‘golden opinions.’ The Rev. Mr. Y----, who
officiates here, is an able, solid, preacher, well versed in the
fundamental truths of christianity.

I am happy to say, the people of this city, are a very moral and
religious people. This applies also to the ‘first society’--which is a
singularity in city history. Beneath their influence theatres,
dissipation, and extravagance cannot thrive. Already I seem to breathe
freer, although so little distant from New York; whose atmosphere, rank
with foreign luxuries, is like a hot house over-crowded by fragrant
exotics; stifling us with perfume.

We admire this city, which however we have only been able to see in our
odds and ends of time. Its situation is very fine, it contains many
handsome buildings, and it is generally kept very neat. A broad street
through the centre leads up to a pretty square, surrounded by several
imposing buildings--the Capitol occupies a fine position here; it is of
dark stone, with a neat marble portico supported by four ionic columns.
The City Hall on the opposite side of the square, is a noble edifice,
built of white marble from the quarries of Sing Sing, surmounted by a
gilded dome. The view from this dome is beautiful; embracing the city at
your feet--green hilly country, dotted with country seats and towns,
among which is the city of Troy--the noble Hudson, winding among this
country and a back ground of mountains. The new State Hall is a pretty
building--the Exchange, is a huge mass of granite, giving one a great
idea of the extent of business which requires so large a structure for
its merchants.

What a different place is this to the town which stood upon this two
hundred years since. Then the only public building was a quaint old
Dutch church, with painted glass windows; adorned with the coat of arms
of those ancient worthies, who, clad in trunk hose and steeple crowned
hats, sat demurely below. There are but few of the ancient Dutch houses
left, and these are daily falling before the yankee spirit of
improvement--which improvement by the bye sometimes merely amounts to
_alteration_. At this city is the southern termination of the great Erie
Canal.




LETTER III.


JUNE 17th, 1840.

_My dear E._--We arose at an early hour, and after looking into some of
the public buildings we returned to breakfast, This dispatched, we drove
to the rail road depot, an ugly building at the head of State Street
where we alighted and stood in a large barn-like apartment, among men
and trunks and boys--the latter screaming, Albany Argus’--‘Evening
Journal!’--and among all sorts of confusion, until we were seated in the
cars. Soon however, two fine horses, to whom I render my thanks, dragged
us out of the barn into open day--up through the square, over the hill,
to the Locomotive Depot, giving us on the way many sweet little back
views of Albany and its pretty country and river, and the round tops of
the Catskills in the blue distance beyond. The snort of a steampipe, and
perfume of grease and smoke, announced the vicinity of our locomotive;
and, as if to show off its paces, the engineer whirled the hideous thing
back and forth before our--at least my--nil admirari eyes. Our horses
were unhitched--the engine attached, and away we rushed, leaving our
fine steeds gazing after us with tears in their eyes, to see themselves
outdone by a great tea-kettle.

There are many pretty villas along the road; breathing places for the
heated citizens below, which I would describe to you; but dashing along
at sixteen miles an hour speed I can only catch a glimpse of white
pillar and portico when the next minute we are three miles away. You
must expect no description of the country when I am on a rail road, for
the scenery is all blurred, like a bad lithograph. I only saw groups of
pine trees rushing past and several bright dots which I suppose meant
wild flowers when we came in sight of Schenectady, an antique dutch
town. Before entering it I was struck by the vision of two immense
tarred ropes walking deliberately beside our car, and discovered we were
upon an inclined plain, descending which, cars of stone were brought up
at the other end of our ropes. Our steam horse was once more exchanged
for one of flesh and we set off upon a jog trot. Near the city we passed
a canal basin in which lay several canal boats, for the Erie Canal
passes through here. We entered the city, crossed the end of a long
street filled with bright looking shops, where people and horses were
frisking about in the morning air,--when another large depot received us
in its barn-like expanse. The Ballston and Saratoga train entered at the
other end, and you may imagine the charming confusion as the people of
both trains jumped in and out the carriages, marched and counter marched
until they had settled down into their several seats.

We were not suffered long to look upon this pleasant picture, for at 9
o’clock we were on our way to Utica. We could see but little of
Schenectady while passing through it, but it looked well at a distance.
Upon an eminence above the town stands Union College a fine building of
grey stone.

Schenectady is an Indian name spelt by them Schan-naugh-ta-da; meaning
‘the Pine Plains,’ a fitting name, for the pine is universal here. This
town has been the property of many different nations--the Mohawk, the
French, the Dutch, and the English having each in succession ruled its
destinies.

After leaving the town, we entered at once the glorious valley of the
Mohawk which runs nearly westerly, and whose course we followed eighty
miles to Utica. There may be lovelier vallies in the world, but
certainly not another like this, for it is unique in its kind. Imagine a
long green valley covered with rich farms--through its centre a bright
transparent river, having a rail road on one bank and a canal on the
other; while a range of hills frame in the picture on each side. So
straight is this valley, that canal, river, and rail road run parallel,
and within sight of each other nearly all the way.

It was one of June’s sweetest mornings when we passed the shores of the
pretty Mohawk, and I was never weary of gazing down into its smiling
face, as we glided along; or of watching the lazy canal boat dragging
its rich freight at the foot of those soft green hills opposite; or, of
peeping out the coach at the rugged cliffs, which reared their bare
heads far above our road.

There are many little villages on this route, where we stopped to
refresh ourselves, or to fill the engine. The first was Amsterdam a
small Dutch settlement. Near this place stands a handsome stone edifice
which is renowned in the annals of New York as the residence of Grey
Johnson and his brother Sir William, the dreamer. At these towns there
are hotels, and at other spots refreshment houses, built at the road
side, where you are allowed a few minutes to rest. You are shown into
large rooms set out with long narrow tables, bearing loads of coffee,
oysters, cakes, pies, fruit lemonade, etc.,--you pile your plate with
good things, stir around your coffee or tea, when tingle! goes the bell
‘all aboard!’ rings in your ears, and you have just time to put your 25
cents into the attendants hands and yourself in a car when puff! and
away you go. Some of these towns are pretty, as St Johns, Fonda,
Canajoharie, Herkimer, and many others.--What hungry people these
travellers are! at every refreshment station the tables were crowded and
at the signal they rushed into the cars each with a cake or pie, or
apple, to finish at his leisure. We may say with Horace,

    ‘At Fundi we refused to bait.’

One would imagine he was speaking of our little Fonda, which is here
pronounced as Horace spells it. It was named after the celebrated Col.
Fonda.

Fort Plain is a pretty place on the other bank of the river; here I
longed to ‘stay one turn’ to hammer a specimen from the encrinal
lime-rock which is found there. The little falls of the Mohawk is a
delightful place. The river here forces its way through a rocky country
and falls over successive ledges of rock in pretty cascades. The beauty
of the scene does not consist in altitude, but in number and variety of
these saults; and the foaming river rushing over its rocky bottom or
winding around its tiney islets, and in the towering cliffs around it.
The village is seated upon each side of the river, connected by a
handsome marble aqueduct leading to the canal basin, and by a neat
bridge for carriages. The scene as we approached was very pretty. You
see a frame work of rugged cliffs, enclosing a noisy rushing river with
numerous cascades, its shores crowned with white buildings, and spanned
by a noble bridge; the canal boat is seen creeping at the foot of the
hills opposite, while the steeples, court house and hotels, are peeping
from the trees which cover the sloping bank at our right. Perched upon
every jutting point and grouped around the shores were many shanties
occupied by the children of Erin who have kindly volunteered to make our
rail roads and canals.

When the train stopped before the hotel, instead of the usual sound of
‘Newspapers,’ or ‘Nuts,’ or ‘Apples to sell,’ I heard young voices
asking if we wanted some diamonds! Surprised, I looked out and beheld
several little girls holding up small boxes containing Quartz Crystals.
We of course became purchasers, and found among them some very perfect
and pure. ‘Where do you find these?’ I asked. ‘Oh, all among the cliffs
ma’am,’ she answered in the Hibernian tongue--‘and if its stop ye wud,
I’d show ye to the diamond holes where I often dig up the _ful_ of my
pocket.’ We observed this was a large town, having several churches,
dwellings, a handsome court house, and many large manufacturers.
Geologists tell us this was one shore of that lake of which the
highlands were the southern boundary. How it came to wear through these
hills and run away to the sea no one can ever know. The rocks here are
limestone, principally; but I observed there was with it some fine
granite. There was an old man among our passengers, who had lived here
‘when all this was a wilderness.’ He amused us with some stories of past
times; one of which I think interesting enough to tell you. Here it is
to fill up the page.

During the War of Independence there were two brothers, who, although
they were brothers, could not think alike; they joined opposite sides in
the war. It happened while the Division under Gen. Herkimer was
destitute of arms, ammunition and clothing, he heard of the approach of
the English troops. Fight he could not; fly he would not; and he was
seeking some stratagem to better his situation, when fortunately, for
him, the English brother having strayed too near his camp was taken up
as a spy. The brothers, who had been long separated met once more; but
it was a bitter meeting, for one was a prisoner and condemned to die. In
spite of their different sentiments they loved each other. The prisoner
earnestly entreated his brother, who was the General’s Aid, to use all
the influence in his power to save his life. The Aid was conscious he
could not succeed unless he made the ‘worse appear the better reason;’
for his brother had been fairly captured as a spy, and in consequence of
some bloody deeds of the enemy, his life was to be forfeited. With a
heavy heart and darkened brow he entered the General’s tent.

‘I know what you would ask ere you speak’ said his commander. ‘I have
expected you and have determined upon my course. You come to ask your
brother’s life--it is your’s upon one condition.’ ‘Name it! I am not
afraid to agree to any thing my General may propose!’ ‘I require you to
go over to the enemy as a deserter--tell them exactly of our numbers;
for I have learnt they do not imagine we are so strong; conceal the
state of our arms and provisions; and if I am not much mistaken, they
will immediately withdraw when they know how large is our force. You are
then to find your way back again as you can. When you return your
brother shall be free.’

For one moment the Aid hesitated. To appear as a deserter--to act the
spy--to deceive even an enemy, was adverse to his open noble
nature--there was also danger of discovery when returning, which would
lead to disgrace and death.

‘Well young man! what is your determination?’ asked the General. ‘I will
go, and trust in heaven and in you.’ He sought the enemy’s camp, was
imprisoned as a spy--but his feigned tale procured his liberation. The
enemy retreated before so large a force, which they could have conquered
if they had known their distressed condition. It was many months ere the
Aid rejoined his General. His brother was released, and after a parting
full of sorrow they separated never to meet again.

We arrived at Utica at three o’clock, and repaired immediately to
Baggs’s hotel. Here we found an excellent dinner, just ready, which to
hungry travellers is a cheering sight. As I promised to put down our
expenses, we pay $3,75 each, from Albany to Utica, eighty miles. We here
concluded to leave the train, and spend a few days at the celebrated
Trenton falls. After partaking a very nice dinner at Bagg’s hotel, we
entered a neat carriage for Trenton falls, 14 miles north of Utica. The
drive is a pretty one, and up hill all the way. We arrived at dark at a
small inn in a forest, and were obliged to defer our visit to the
cascade until the next morning.

After breakfast we walked out to visit the falls. Our way was through a
deep forest breathing forth sweet fragrance in the early morning air.
Suddenly, in the midst of the woods, we found ourselves upon the brink
of a precipice, one side of a narrow chasm two hundred feet deep, while,
too far below to be heard, a mountain torrent was rushing and foaming
over the rock. A range of five ladder stairways led down the steep,--and
as we thus hung over the water, we felt very much like some of
Shakespear’s samphire gatherers, and thought what a ‘dreadful trade’ was
hunting waterfalls. Safely down, we found a narrow ravine, so filled
with the roaring torrent, that there was scarcely room for a pathway
beside it. Part of the way a chain was inserted into the rock that we
might, by holding upon it, pass the boiling whirlpool, if our nerves are
strong enough to command our hands and feet--so scrambling, climbing,
swinging, we contrived to reach the uppermost cascade, which is two
miles from the last one. This stream, called the West Canada Creek,
falls down a deep ravine over successive ledges of rock, in six small
cascades of great beauty. The highest is only fifty feet high. The sides
of the ravine are precipitous, and covered with the beautiful foliage of
numerous trees. Among them are many evergreen trees--of these I remarked
the stately white pine, which grows over one hundred feet high and
perfectly straight; the red pine, with its dark green leaves, and yellow
cones; the black spruce and the lofty birch. The rocks are slate and
transition lime stone of the silurian series, abounding with
petrifaction, of which many are perfect trilobites. Quartz crystals are
also found here in great beauty and profusion. This place has been the
scene of some tragic events--one of them most pitiable. A young girl sat
out upon a pleasure tour, accompanied by her mother, father, and
affianced husband. They came to this place, no warning spirit pressing
them back, no drear omen warning them away, and no dream or presentment
checking their steps. Gaily they descended the stairs, and clambered the
rocks--the lover with the hand of his betrothed in his; the father and
mother behind. Being thus led along, did not accord with her playful
spirit, and telling him she could take care of herself, she in an evil
moment withdrew her hand. His charge to be careful was answered by
smiling asseverations of her sure-footedness; he turned with another
admonition and she was gone! Where is she? He looks in every direction.
She has hid herself in play; he calls; no answer but the torrents roar;
she has rejoined her parents; he turns towards them and sees them
quietly reposing together upon a rock. His pallid look--his wildness, as
rooted to the spot, he gazes upon them, tells them the tale of woe, soon
bitterly confirmed by her pretty bonnet of straw, which was at that
moment whirled past their feet. Oh, the agony of those hearts as they
stood beside that dark torrent, away from all help, and powerless to
save their beloved one. The guide was despatched to the village for
help, but not until three days after was she found a mile below; her
tender form having been thus far carried over rocks and whirlpools.

Another family party came to view these scenes. A tender girl of eleven
years was for security consigned to the valet’s arms. One false step
plunged him into the torrent--he struggled to the shore, but the
parent’s pretty fondling was lost to them in life. The body was the next
day found.

As I stood upon the slippery rock, while these events were floating
through my memory, their scenes pointed out to me by the guide; the
place lost all its beauty, and the dashing torrent seemed some huge
monster, seeking whom he might suck beneath his horrid depths. I grew
nervous, and much to my companions surprise, begged him to return. He,
rejoicing in the fresh country air, and released from the city’s dust,
ran over the rocks with, to me, an alarming quickness, and I turned to
depart. Why these beloved ones should be thus snatched away from their
fond relatives; taken from their homes to find their death in this wild
spot, is to us unknown. He who commanded this, has purposes, to us
unscrutable; perhaps it was to read a lesson to those who hear the tale,
to teach them the uncertain hold they have upon life, and all its
pleasures, and to fear that power which can in an unlooked for moment,
bear them from life to eternity. There are hundreds every season who
stand upon this spot, and hear this story, and the heart which is not
affected by it must be as the hearts of the petrified animals around
them.

We spent several days here, riding and walking among the romantic
scenery.

The village of Trenton Falls is a small one, containing a few shops, and
cottages and two churches, one of which is quite pretty. The ride
towards Utica is very beautiful. The ground descends on each side to the
Mohawk valley, and while our road wound down this side, we had the whole
slope of the other side before our eyes, covered with orchards and
fields, and dotted with villages. The town of Clinton with Hamilton
college, stands upon elevated ground, while, below, at the river’s brink
is spread the city of Utica. Here we spent a day looking about its
streets and shops. The ground slopes down to the river, near which are
the business streets, while most of the dwelling houses are upon the
more airy and elevated portion of the city. Genessee street is a fine
wide avenue leading up the hill, lined upon each side with shops,
hotels, churches, libraries, museums, &c. The canal is here crossed by a
pretty bridge. The houses were substantially built, surrounded, many of
them, by gardens, and appeared very comfortable residences. The business
part of the city show rows of well built ware-houses, and were filled
with people and carts passing to and fro, as if their trade was an
active one and their city thriving. The Erie canal has brought much
trade to this place, which now is one of the most flourishing inland
towns in the State. The canal boats, stages, and rail trains which are
constantly arriving and departing give a stirring appearance to the
place. Religion, education, and literature, engage the attention of the
inhabitants who support sixteen churches, and many seminaries and
literary institutions. The population in 1835, was 10,183, to which now
of course, several thousands must be added. It is situated in Oneida
County, which was selected by the celebrated Baron Steuben as his
retreat, and here he was buried.

       *       *       *       *       *

_June 21st._--We left Utica to-day in the three o’clock train for
Auburn. About four miles from the city we passed a small town called
Whitesborough, a pretty place, with two churches, an academy, and a
building called the Oneida Institute. There is also here a manual labor
school. A large unfinished building just outside of Utica, we learned
was to be a lunatic asylum, calculated to accommodate one thousand
patients--God pity them.

Several pretty towns lay upon our route: as Rome, Manlius, Canastola,
etc. Sweet retreats from the confusion of a city without the solitude of
the country. The canal and railroad which run through or near these
towns present facilities for trade or travelling. Rome is a place of
considerable importance, containing five churches, a court house,
academy, several shops and dwellings. The population, five years since,
amounted to 4,800. When arrived at Syracuse we drove up to a large good
looking stone building bearing the name of Syracuse House. There we
stopped to take tea. This place is sixty miles from Utica: enjoys
considerable trade, but is still in its teens, having arisen since the
canal passed through that part of the country. The Oswego canal joins
the Erie here, which, with the salt works near, brings them much
business. The population is 7,000. We observed in passing through it,
several good churches, a pretty court house, substantial ware houses,
numerous shops and dwellings, with a lyceum and high school, so that it
would seem the inhabitants ought to be wealthy, refined, and well
educated. The salt springs are at Salina, one mile and a half from
Syracuse, where there are eighty manufactories of this material. These
salt springs flow from beds of slate, in some places two hundred feet
thick. Among the layers are masses of vermicular rock, whose interstices
are supposed once to have been filled with salt. In this region of
country are extensive gypsum beds; water lime is also found in
profusion. Sandstone, generally old red, and lime-stones, are the
prevailing formations of the county.

It was a beautiful evening when we left Syracuse. The sky, every where
of a clear deep blue, paled gradually as it approached the west, where
it was lost in a rich golden glow. The spires of the town behind us,
reflected this brilliant hue, and the country as we passed, looked like
one of Turner’s _one colored_ pictures. Onondaga lake with the pretty
village reposing upon its shore, and the rich fields around it, were all
touched with this golden pencil. The fields were strewn with salt vats,
where the salt was undergoing evaporation, which were covered with low
sheds, probably taken off in the morning, as it was now late Saturday
afternoon, and this might have been to protect them from the weather. It
was quite dark when we reached Auburn. We left the cars at the railroad
depot, and were provided with carriages to the American Hotel. Here,
large commodious bed rooms, and luxurious mattresses, received your
weary friends. I lingered a while to write you the events of the day,
but must now hasten to bid you--adieu.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sunday, June 22d._--This morning we visited the first presbyterian
church, a large handsome edifice of brick. The pulpit was neat, and the
seats and backs of the pews comfortably lined with horse hair. From Mr.
Lathrop, the clergyman, we heard a very good discourse. The baptist and
several other churches struck us as very neat and tasteful. The
episcopal is in the gothic style, the interior lined with oak, and
containing a handsome monument of Bishop Hobart, who died in this place.
The hotels are showy handsome buildings, particularly the Auburn House,
and the American, where we have taken up our quarters. This last is
built of grey limestone from that neighborhood, and is surrounded by two
rows of piazzas supported by handsome pillars. Opposite to it is the
court house, quite a little palace in appearance. It is in the Parthenon
form with a portico and high pillars, with the questionable addition of
a large dome. From the cupola of an hotel, we obtained a charming view
of this beautiful town and its environs. ‘A palace and a prison on each
hand,’ I exclaimed as I glanced around, for behind was the grand court
house, and in front arose the gloomy walls and towers of our famous
State Prison. We saw from here the Theological Seminary, several
handsome churches, hotels, elegant private dwellings, and streets of
shops; while the outside of the circle presented a charming and varied
range of fields, and hills, and groves and streams. It seemed indeed the
loveliest village of the plain around, and I expressed my surprise at
seeing so large and well built a town ‘so far off.’ My companion told
me it was too near the commencement of our journey to be astonished yet,
I had Rochester, and Buffalo, and Cincinnati to see. This town has a
population of nearly 7,000, I do not know exactly, but refer you to the
Gazetteers. Those of our friends whom we visited gave the place a fine
character for good society, and told us they enjoyed all the
conveniences and elegances of life, with good pastors and good books. In
twenty-four hours any thing can reach them from New York. The prison
presents an imposing appearance. It is built of dark stone with gothic
ornaments, and consist of first, a high wall enclosing a large square,
in the centre of which, rises a massive pile of building surmounted by a
cupola. This building is arranged on three sides of a square, the centre
276, the other 242 feet long. In this are the eating rooms, hospital,
chapel, and cells. The work shops are erected against the wall leaving a
space for the keeper to walk around and gaze upon them through holes for
the purpose, himself unseen. It is a dismal life these poor creatures
lead, not only encarcerated from the world, but confined alone, and
forbidden even to speak to a fellow prisoner when they meet at table or
in the shops. They pass the life of La Trappe monks, except that it is
against their will. At table they sit in rows with their faces one way,
so that they cannot even see each other. However, this solitary and
silent existence is said to be the best and most successful method of
restraining and reforming the unhappy convict. In solitude they have
time for reflection, and silence prevents corruption from their fellow
criminals. They have religious instruction, which has converted
several. I cannot but think it a very efficient arrangement. The guilty
man is stopped in his mad career, and solitude, silence, and time for
reflection, and religious counsel, are blessings placed in his path. In
the mean while his bodily wants are attended to, he is supplied with
nutritious food, well ventillated rooms, with nurses and physicians. He
is obliged to work, and the fruits of his labor go to defray the prison
expenses. We saw carriages, shoes, cabinet-ware, and various other
articles made by them, offered for sale in the shops of the village.[1]




LETTER IV.


JUNE 23d, 1840.

_Dear E._--At ten o’clock, we entered the stage coach for Rochester, 70
miles distant. Among our passengers were two whom we had found extremely
interesting, while journeying from Utica here--a clergyman of
Massachusetts and his daughter. The Rev. N. T----r, was about seventy,
but extremely active, and very cheerful. His conversation was
instructive and agreeable and of course in a pious vein, for he had
occupied the pulpit 47 years, as had his ancestors for 230 years back.
There was such simplicity of heart about him, such piety, and kindness
of manner, joined with elevated thought and deep learning that we lent a
charmed ear to his discourse, during the whole day.

Our route lay through an exquisitely beautiful country, covered with
cultivated farms and varied with pretty lakes and towns. The first lake
we saw was Cayuga lake. It is from one to four miles broad, and
thirty-eight long. It is a bright sheet of water, lying in a deep
valley and from its surface its shores gently rise, covered with a fine
farming country. We crossed the end of the lake over a bridge more than
a mile long. So pure was the water that as we looked down upon it, we
plainly beheld the trout swiming beneath.

Leaving the lake we passed through the pretty villages of Waterloo and
Seneca Falls. Here the dark green Seneca river rushes foaming over a bed
of rock, in a fall of forty seven feet. There are several mills and
manufactories upon its borders, and we observed several churches, an
academy, and many shops. Seneca! fair Seneca Lake, how can I describe
the gentle beauties of thy varied shores, and of that pretty town which
so adorns thy banks. This lake and its surrounding country, present a
very lovely scene. There is nothing grand about the lakelet; you must
not imagine it enclosed in the moutains of lakes George or Champlain;
the style is petite and delicate. Its Indian name was Jensequa, which
has been modernised into its present appellation. It is a placid,
transparent sheet of water, of very great depth, 4 miles by 35 long, and
is said never to be frozen over in the coldest winter. The road lay
around the end of the lake, from whence the eye wound over its fair
pellucid waters to its cultivated shores, adorned with handsome
farm-houses, and country seats, and the massive buldings of the college
which occupies a commanding elevation near the town--and the towers and
steeples of the village peeping through the trees, as if to catch a
glimpse of the waters below. We stopped at a small stage house in the
lower and business end of the town, where we all descended from the
stage while the operation of changing horses and stages was going on. A
good sized parlor furnished with gay landscape paper received the female
part of the passengers, while the restless _mankind part_, repaired to
the shops, to inspect the manufactures of the town, or to refresh
themselves at the soda-water, and ice-cream shops. Once more seated in
our stage coach we ascended the hill, to the better portion of the town,
where we passed through the principal avenue of the place, upon each
side of which were arranged those pretty villas and gardens for which
Geneva is so justly celebrated. There were several churches in view, and
a new presbyterian half built. This, to us, was an interesting object, a
token God was not forgotten by the busy people below, or the wealthy
ones around us.

Canandaigua with its lake and street of villas received our
commendations. There we dined at a very pretty and commodious Hotel,
having a fine view of the lake from its windows. Some of the lake trout
which appeared upon the table we found very fine. This lake is smaller
than those we have passed being 14 miles long. The main street is nearly
two miles long, and we drove through a mile of tasteful ‘garden-houses,’
surrounded by grounds laid out in a pleasing manner, adorned with
flowers and fine shade trees. The country from thence to Rochester is
very beautiful. Spotted with farms and villages, and woodlands covered
with groves of maple, hickory, bass-wood, elm, and evergreen trees. It
was nearly dark around us, when we were told the city was in view, and
against the bright evening sky we beheld in the distance the towers and
spires of Rochester. When we arrived we drove to the Rochester House.
After some refreshment we bade our companions adieu; promising to meet
at an early hour the next morning and drive over the town before we left
it for Lockport--and then were glad to rest, for we had come a long
day’s journey and in spite of good roads and commodious coaches, fine
spirited horses, and good drivers, we were very much fatigued.

Well do the inspired writers compare man and his brief existence to a
flower that early withereth--to a shadow--a cloud that quickly
vanisheth--one day here, and the next gone. Truly saith Job, ‘thine eyes
are upon me and _and I am not_,’ a just figure of man’s fleeting life.
Never have I found the truth of these comparisons more striking than at
the present moment. I told you of the amiable intellectual clergyman,
who with his daughter agreed to meet us early this morning--when that
morning came he was in eternity! At two o’clock last night we were
aroused by a messenger from Miss T. saying her father was very ill. We
followed the servant through the dark and lonely halls into the chamber
where ‘the good man met his fate.’ Yes, all was over. Around the room in
attitudes of mournful musing sat the keeper of the Hotel, some servants,
and several ladies who had arisen to do all in their power to soothe the
sufferer’s pains. All had been done that was possible, but in vain. Upon
the bed, lay a silent corpse, whose countenance bespoke a death of
agony--it was all that now remained of that good and kind old man, that
tender father, whose refined manners and intellectual conversation, had
charmed us so much the day before. But his high intellect, his talents,
his agreeable converse, of what avail were they all to him now, had
they not been joined to deep heart-felt piety, and been devoted to the
interests of religion. He had died far from his home, with no friends
near him except his daughter--his last hour passed away in a hotel among
strangers--yet spare your sympathy, for he died happy. The everlasting
arms were supporting him, a tender father was waiting to receive him in
those heavenly mansions where death and sorrow can never come. He was
going to no unknown region, he was to meet no stranger face, for his
mind and his heart had ever been familiar with that celestial home, now
to be his eternally--he knew a welcome awaited him from that Savior and
that God, with whose spirit he had ever held communion through a long
life spent in devotion and in acts of beneficence. It was the wish of
the celebrated Archbishop Leighton that he might die at an inn, thus to
be more forcibly reminded he was a pilgrim upon the earth--his wish was
fulfilled, for he died at the Bell Inn, London.

With what terms of praise high enough shall I speak of the people of
Rochester. When the news of this sad event spread, they surrounded the
bereaved daughter with sympathizing hearts, and offers of service. The
persons belonging to the house, and the boarders, with many physicians
and clergymen with ther families, were anxious to cheer the heart of the
sad survivor, and to lighten her mournful duties. The services of the
Episcopal church were read over the body by the Rev. Mr. W. a young
English clegyman of great talent and piety. The persons assembled near,
seemed much affected with this solemn event. May God bless this sudden
providence to them and to us. Uniting in a procession we accompanied
the corpse to the canal boat, where bidding adieu to Miss T. we left her
to pursue her dreary journey of five hundred miles, accompanied only
with hired attendants. With what comfort did we see in her the power of
religion elevating the soul above the trials and sorrows of life.
Nothing else could have supported this bereaved daughter through so
heart-rending a dispensation. But she knew in whom she believed. She saw
from whom the blow came, and her faith told her it was done in mercy. As
we were to leave Rochester the next morning, some of our kind friends
called that afternoon and insisted upon driving us through the town. It
being our only chance of seeing this celebrated city, we accepted their
kindness, although the scenes of the morning had unfitted us for
anything but retirement.

As we drove along we were astonished at the extent and beauty of this
city. It was you know founded in 1812, and now contains 22,000
inhabitants. We had heard of its rapid rise, but supposed it must
consist mostly of wooden buildings as is often the case in new
settlements, and our surprise was the greater to find it built in the
most solid manner. Churches, houses, hotels and banks, court house and
arcade, markets were all of marble or stone. There are here fourteen
churches[2] some of them quite handsome. The Episcopal Church of St.
Paul’s, is a fine gothic edifice of grey stone--the church which enjoys
the ministration of the Rev. Mr. W. mentioned above, is also handsome,
of gothic form, neatly edged with brown free stone--the presbyterian is
of grey plaster supported by substantial abutments--the baptist, where
Mr. C. officiates, one of our active friends of the morning; a neat
brick edifice--also catholic, methodist and bethel for the canal men.
The streets are many of them McAdamized. There is a fine park here
surrounded by neat railings where the children of the neighborhood are
brought to take exercise. But what most elicited our admiration were the
private dwellings, which in number and beauty are seldom equalled in our
cities. They are spacious, built of marble or stone, in gothic or
grecian form surrounded by wings and piazzas, and out-buildings and
grounds handsomely laid out, adorned with shade trees, shrubbery and
flowers. They are delightful retreats from the city’s dust and noise;
make fine playgrounds for the children, and altogether evince much taste
and wealth. How much better is it for men of fortune, to secure for
themselves and families, pure air and room for exercise, instead of
squeezing, as they do in our city, into houses only 30 by 100 feet, as
is too much the custom in our cities. The wealth lavished upon gay
entertainments would procure space where their children might gain
health and strength. A frolic upon the green sward is much more
conducive to health, than a sober city walk beside a nurse. I often see
these palid pitiable little creatures in our streets walking as gravely
and demurely as some old octogenarian. A child without gaiety is as
cheerless as a landscape without sun.

The Genesee river divides the city into two parts, and is crossed by
three bridges and the two aqueducts of the Erie canal. The oldest of
these is a very fine piece of hewn stone work 804 feet long supported by
eleven raches. They were building another aqueduct, which is 858 feet
long and 28 in height[3], and the music of the rushing river was almost
drowned by the mason’s hammer.

Beside this canal there is another called the Genesee valley canal from
Rochester to Olean, 119 miles. The Genesee falls are very pretty,
consisting of rapids through the city, and in the suburbs it plunges
over a circular rock into a deep dell. The whole fall through the city
is 268 feet; 97 at the cascade. There is another cataract farther down
the river, which falls 106 feet. This is at Carthage, two miles below,
and here is the port at which the lake steamboats stop. A rail road runs
to this place. There was not much water in the river, and we did not see
the falls in their greatest perfection, but still there was great beauty
in the feathery foam which fell in snowy masses over the dark rock.
These cliffs are old red stone and limestones--with feruginous sand
rock, and argillaceous iron ore; supposed by geologists to be equivalent
to the Caradoc series. Upon the summit of the cliff opposite to us was a
range of solid stone mills, from whence we obtain that fine Genessee
flour, ground from the wheat in the fertile region around. Five hundred
thousand barrels of flour are turned out in a year. There are twenty-two
of these mills. The little streams which trickle down the rocks, are
stolen from the river to turn the wheels. Our kind friends were anxious
to drive us to Mount Hope, a celebrated cemetery a few miles from the
city, but time was wanting for this and many other proposed pleasures. A
distant view of Lake Ontario is said to be obtained from this hill. We
returned home through some of the business streets, which, particularly
Maine and Buffalo, were filled with busy people, waggons of home or
foreign produce, while the long ranges of shops were gay with dry goods
hanging from the doors, and piled with every comfort and luxury. Stages
were landing or taking up passengers, canal boats were arriving and
departing and every thing we saw denoted a striving and thriving
population.




LETTER V.


JUNE 25th, 1840.

_Dear E._--We left Rochester this morning at eight o’clock, in a fine
stage and four horses, for Lockport, 64 miles distant, for which we were
to pay two dollars and fifty cents each, dinner on the road, included.
It was with much regret that we parted from this interesting city, for,
although we had been there but a short time, we had seen enough to be
able to appreciate its beauties, and the sterling qualities of its
beneficent and refined inhabitants. We passed through several pretty
villages, and observed with pleasure the farm houses and even the
meanest cabins were decorated with roses, geraniums, honey-suckles and
other flowers; a pleasing custom which I wish was more followed among
us. In one of the villages, I think its name was Greece, I observed a
neat grave yard enclosed in a handsome stone fence and iron railing,
where ‘the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,’ while around the tombs
the kind hand of surviving friends had planted roses and drooping
willows. A great part of our way lay over the famous ridge road, an
elevation of ground about as wide as a common road formed of sand and
shells, and which is supposed once to have been the shore of Lake
Ontario, now about ten miles distant. The ground has very much this
appearance as the land between us and the lake is much lower, and level,
with marshy spots. It is in some places covered with a dense forest.
There is one thing however, which struck me as singular, the land
declines the other side of the road also, in some places leaving a
narrow ridge to ride upon, which is not the ordinary form of a lake
shore. Why may it not have been a public road, formed by that
indefatigable race of diggers, the _mound builders_, as a thoroughfare
between two of their cities. It might still have been the border of the
lake, but swampy and marshy ground. If we are to believe Mr.
Delafield[4] these people were the descendants of the builders of Babel,
and when dispersed by the confusion of tongues wandered about the world
and at last found themselves in America. Here they have thrown up
pyramidial mounds in imitation of their ruined tower on the plains of
Shinar. The Arabs have a tradition that Nimrod, disappointed in his
purpose of reaching heaven by building a tower, constructed a chariot,
to which he placed a pair of wings, and thus hoped to enter the
celestial regions. Alas! since the days of Nimrod how many like him,
have sought to attain the courts above, by their own strenuous
exertions.

Dear me, how I have wandered from the ridge road. The celebrated
traveller, McKenney, believes this to have been the border of the lake,
which broke away and ran over the State of New York, thus scooping out
the earth at the other side of the ridge. The lakes Geneva, Canandaigua,
Cayuga, etc., he believes to have been left by this flood. This agrees
with Dr. Mitchell’s theory of a vast lake having been once in this part
of the state, which burst through its southern shore at the Little Falls
of the Mohawk, and through the Highlands, flooding the coasts of New
York with alluvion. De Witt Clinton also, in his Canal report, remarks:
‘The general position of the Little Falls, indicate the former existence
of a great lake above connected with the Oneida lake; as the waters
forced a passage here and receded, the flats were formed above, composed
of several acres of alluvion.’ In this alluvion trees are often found
twelve feet under ground. Darby observed marks upon the rocks at Little
Falls fifty feet above the river, showing the water had once stood so
high.

At a distance we saw Brockport upon the canal, and soon after, at
Gainesville, we dined. We reached Lockport at five o’clock in the
afternoon and were shown into a neat comfortable hotel where we awaited
the time of starting in the cars. Lockport is a town of the mushroom
order, having arisen around the locks of the canal within a few years.
The churches, houses, and hotels, looked very respectable, and the
rail-roads and canals gave it quite a stirring appearance. The locks at
the canal here are a great curiosity. There are five double combined
locks which carry the canal over the ridge. There is also a deep cutting
through the solid rock for some miles which is very interesting. Many
specimens of minerals have been discovered here, as carbonate of lime,
selenite, dogtooth spar, petrifactions, etc. I promised to give you an
account of all our expenses, so I will mention now, we are to pay
ninety-four cents each to Niagara, twenty miles, as I shall not think of
such mundane affairs while there. Our expenses at the hotels have been
two dollars a day each, and meals fifty cents each at all our stopping
places. Seated in the rail car we were soon on our road, and fast
dashing through a tolerably cultivated country, with several neat
mansions peeping through the trees. I trembled lest the land should
remain thus until we arrived at Niagara, for I could not bear to
approach it through petty villages and farms, but we soon left all
cultivation behind and found ourselves in a deep forest. While gliding
rapidly along, the engineer’s bell rang to scare some cow or other
animal, as we thought, from the rail track. Several of the passengers
looked out, one pronouncing it a man, another a cow, until, as we
approached, we discovered it was an Indian female. She was enveloped in
a dark mantle from beneath which could be seen her scarlet leggins
richly embroidered with beads. With a slow and stately step she paced
the rail-track, the engineer’s bell and shrill whistle unheeded. That
she heard them was evident, for another Indian woman, her companion, who
walked outside the rail, stretched forth her hand as if in earnest
appeal, but the haughty young princess scorned to fly before her
country’s foe. The engine with slackened speed came near her and
stopped; then, and not until it had quite stopped, she condescended to
walk off the rail-way. As we passed I saw she was young and pretty, and
her dark eye flashed with a triumphant expression which said, ‘You
dared not drive over me! I scorned to be forced from the road by your
bell, like an animal!’

‘Look out for the Falls! Prepare for Niagara!’ is the cry of all in the
coach. My heart began to beat--does not yours? Do be a little romantic,
and feel some emotion, while about to behold one of Nature’s greatest
wonders. I looked out; we were on the river’s bank, a high precipice of
about two hundred feet Far below rushed the river, of a green copper
hue, or verdigris; far up through the defile I caught a view of a
mountain of mist, but I resolutely turned away, for such snatches of
views I have been told to avoid, as bringing disappointment with them.
The road swerved from the river, and in a few minutes we found ourselves
in the midst of the little village of Niagara. When the train stopped we
were surrounded by a host of porters, struggling to secure us for their
several favorite hotels. We chose the Cataract house, from a friend’s
recommendation, and from its appropriate name. We had no cause to repent
our decision as its accommodation and attendance were every thing we
could wish. We were shown into a neat chamber, which to my delight
looked out upon the rushing rapids. The tea bell rang as we entered, and
much to the annoyance of my impatient spirit, my companion made it plain
to me I should refresh myself before visiting the Falls. Tea over, I had
leave to go, and we were soon upon the pathway. Shall I take you at once
into the presence chamber of the divinity, or shall I describe the halls
and corridors as I pass through them to her throne? I think a minute
description will best please you. Niagara river, just before it reaches
the fall is divided into two parts; one rushing past the Canada shore,
plunges over the rocks making the crescent, or horse-shoe fall--this
fall is about one hundred and sixty feet high. The other half of the
river passes around an island, called Goat, or Iris island, and falls
from the American side. This island has been sacred from the foot of man
until a few years since, when a bridge was thrown across the rapids with
much dexterity and daring. Upon this bridge we will walk if you please,
stopping one moment to view the rapids. These constitute a very
beautiful feature of the scene, and, were it not for the falls, would be
well worth a visit on their own account. The river is a mile wide, and
comes rushing and foaming over rocks some ten or twelve feet high,
looking, sea-faring men tell us, very much like breakers, or a sea in a
storm--the green waves heightening the illusion. One is glad to be
safely over this tumultuous water, especially as the former bridge has
been carried away. From the bridge you land upon Bath island, containing
about two acres of land, upon which is erected a toll-house, and shop
for the sale of Indian curiosities and canes. There are also bathing
houses here. A short bridge brings us to Goat Island, one-half a mile
long and a quarter wide. It is also called Iris, and as such I shall
designate it. The increased roar, the mist rising above the trees, urge
you on, and you pass the ‘curiosity shop’ and refreshments here offered,
and hasten on through many a winding forest path, until you gain the
opposite side of the island, where you find yourself upon the brink of a
deep gulf into which an ocean broken loose from its bounds is
precipitated with astounding noise and violence!.... This is the
crescent fall on the Canadian shore. But linger not here. Descend the
island to the brink of the river, and cross the rapids over a tottering,
frail bridge, to the tower, which stands upon the precipice at the edge
of the falls. Ascend to the top, and lean over the railing, look calmly
down if you can, into the fathomless abyss of ocean, where the waves are
dashing; the foam whirling, and the winds rushing, amid the roar of a
thousand thunders eternally ascending. Deafened, confounded, bewildered,
you retreat in haste, fearful every moment the breakers which are
dashing against the tower, will tear it away from its foundation, and
plunge you into the fearful ocean depths below. At this place, and upon
table rock opposite, you see Niagara in all its power and terror. But if
you would behold it in all its ravishing beauty, you must go as we did,
the next morning before sunrise, and view it from the ferry house. To
reach this spot, you do not cross to Iris island, but follow the river
bank to the American fall, near which is the ferryman’s cottage, and at
a little distance the ladder which leads you down to the boat. Seated
upon a rock, in front of the cottage, we feasted our eyes with unearthly
beauty. Beside you is the American fall, tinged with a delicate apple or
beryl green hue. One delights to follow with the eye this fair
translucent arch, as it plunges far down into the water nearly two
hundred feet below us. You have but a sideling view of this fall here.
Looking past it you see the dark foliage of Iris island, and beyond, the
Canadian fall. This immense mass of water falls over rocks in the form
of a crescent, and is tinted with an elysian loveliness which you have
never beheld, and never can conceive, let me write pages upon it. Earth
has never produced water of the like hue: something of the emerald, but
more rich, more vivid. This green, spotted, and embroidered as it is,
with wreaths of snow white foam, presents the most charming and unique
effect imaginable. In some places the water pitches over perfectly
smooth, as if an emerald arch; and so pellucid, that you may distinctly
see through it the white foam that is churned from the rocks over which
it flows. As we reached the spot from whence this is seen, the sun arose
above the trees, and immediately two glorious rainbows spanned the river
from shore to shore! and the mist which was rising high in the air, took
the tint of the rose, which faded, only to be replaced by the most
gorgeous prismatic hues. Never had imagination pictured any thing so
glorious as that scene: a tremendous fall of green and white water; a
gay colored rainbow; rosy mist; azure sky, and shores of various shades.
It was a creation which belonged not to earth. It seemed as if the
celestial city was before us, with its gates and walls of sapphire, of
emerald, of ruby, and of gold. The waters of life that flow through the
city of God, seemed rushing past us, for the scene was altogether
unearthly, and our feelings were elevated to that sublime architect, who
could create such surpassing beauty. Earth and its cares, home and its
joys are all forgotten, and we feel as if we could ever recline before
the throne of that mysterious presence, and watch untiring those clouds
of incense which are rising before it forever. When we left the scene,
we trod in solemn silence, as if on holy ground. The violence with which
the water pours over the rocks has worn them away, and the river has
broken its way up from Lake Ontario at the rate of a rood in three
years. It is supposed, when first discovered, to have been near the
Clifton House on the Canadian shore, and the ferry house at the
American.

_June 26th._--This morning we descended the cliffs by a staircase and
crossed to the Canadian shore. The boat was tossed about like a shell
upon the whirling waves, and as they looked up at the mass of water
tumbling so near them, and at the boiling water two hundred and fifty
feet deep, under us, some of our fellow passengers became a little
nervous. My whole soul was so absorbed in contemplating the wondrous
scene, that I felt no terror. A sentinel in the scotch costume greeted
our eyes when we landed telling us we were now in a strange land among
another people. A winding walk up the cliff, leads you to Clifton House,
a celebrated Canadian hotel. From the balconies of this house, is one of
the most imposing views of the Niagara falls. You see the whole at once,
while from the American side you see only a part at a time. Still, if
not so grand, the view is more varied and more beautiful upon the
opposite shore and from Iris Island. Every one says it is ridiculous to
attempt to describe these falls, but, I have promised to give you
daguerreotype views, and will endeavor to sketch the outlines--the
shading, and the _impressions_ of the scene can only be given by the
place itself. Imagine a crescent of water a mile long, plunging with
awful violence as if the foundations of the great deep had broken up
again, from a cliff nearly 200 feet high. According to McKenney
15,000,000 tons of water are poured over the rocks in 24 hours. A green
island divides this fall into two unequal parts. Table rock, upon the
Canadian shore is at the edge of the falls, and projects over the cliff
where you may stand with nothing between you and the boiling ocean
below. So close is it to the water that the waves wash over part of it,
and it is almost always covered with mist and spray. If it be glory to
be buried in Niagara, you may here hope for that fate, as a portion of
the rock has already fallen, and a large crack shows you the remainder
will soon follow. From this spot, is said to be the finest view, as the
eye embraces the whole circle of waters; but, as it was one of the days
when the mist takes that direction, I saw but little of this. I found
myself upon a slippery rock, a shelf between heaven and earth, with
waves of spray breaking over me, and a furious mist dashing into my
face--a noise of waters was in my ears, a white foam rushed wildly past,
and I felt as if caught up in the sky in a whirlwind and driving snow
storm. We waded back through the wet grass and ran into the Pavilion to
avoid the spray dripping from the eaves. This house besides being a
curiosity shop is the residence of the guide who will conduct you down a
long staircase, and behind the fall if you wish--as I had no penchant
for being drenched, half drowned and suffocated I did not attempt this
exploit. We descended this morning the American side and ventured a
little behind that fall. One feels very much as an Israelite making his
_exode_, with a wall of water at his side ‘where the flood stood
upright.’

When once in, you see a glorious chamber with dome and walls of emerald
rendered transparent by the morning sun. You might imagine yourself in
one of those crystal caves where the sea nymphs congregate, beneath the
arches of the sea. On the road from table rock to Clifton House, there
is another building where there is a fine museum containing 4,000
specimens of Indian curiosities, animals, minerals &c., many of them
from that region. The trees about here are most of them evergreen. The
regular yellow pine grows here and the silver fir with its white lined
leaves and purple cones and the fan leaved larch growing 100 feet high.
The rocks of Niagara are secondary limestone and sandstone, abounding
with veins and nodules of various minerals--among them selenite,
calcareous spar--petrifactions--tufa from the cave, and many others. I
believe I have sketched for you every thing regarding these
falls--_gigantesque phenomene_ as La Vaseur calls them. Still I do not
expect to give you any idea of them, for no one who ever wrote, conveyed
an impression of the reality to me. I might make a pyramid of
expletives, and when all the superbs beautiful’s, majestic’s and
touching’s are expended, you will say when you come, ‘the half has never
been told me!’ Many have been disappointed here chiefly because the
scenery around the falls is not as imposing as they had imagined. Some
would have a range of lofty mountains as a back scene; or a crest of
naked rocks towering above the falls; but I fancy these are of the class
of _contradictionists_ who make a respectable figure in conversation
merely by opposing every thing. They thus obtain a hearing, are able to
enter into an argument, when no other means would gain them a listener.
He who formed this imposing scene is a better judge of the sublime and
beautiful. A range of mountains would materially injure the effect, as
it would by contrast take away from the height of the water. The
cataract would be a secondary object, but seated as it is in a level
region of country, it is the first object that strikes the eye--- a gem
on natures forehead. There are many drives in this neighborhood to
various interesting places, such as springs, whirlpools, battlefields
&c. The parade ground is also a favorite place of resort. A regiment of
700 soldiers are reviewed upon the Canadian shore. We hired a carriage
at the Clifton House and after a short drive found ourselves upon a
beautiful plain above the falls, surrounded by guard houses, and
barracks. The plain was soon filled with soldiers, who came marching up
in separate detachments from every direction. They were tall fine formed
men, all of one height dressed in the Scotch costume, consisting of the
short plaid skirt, stockings laced with red, cap and a cloud of black
plumes. They were well drilled, and marched, counter-marched and went
through all their evolutions as one man. The dress is picturesque, but
must be a cold one in these regions. A pantaloon over the naked knee, I
think would be an improvement. I could see soldiers, although not as
well drilled, at home, so I was glad to turn my course towards that
rolling flood below. From this plain is a fine view of the rapids above
the cataract, and of Iris Island, which seems to have floated to the
brink of the precipice, like one of the Mexican floating islands. We
spent the afternoon upon Iris island. In the little curiosity shop we
refreshed ourselves with delicate white strawberries grown upon the
island, covered with rich cream. Here also we added to our stock of
Indian bags and moccasins. Among the articles in the shops at the
village I admired most a large living eagle which was chained to his
perch. His feathers were black and white, and his beak and claws yellow,
with a ruff of grey about his neck. I pitied the poor captive as he
stood gazing sadly out apparently listening to the roar of the falls,
and longing to be at large in his native forest once more.

The village of Tuscarora Indians is sometimes visited, much against
their wishes however. The Indian nations have never lost the remembrance
of their former power, and their present degradation. They look upon us
as usurpers, who have wrested from them the land of their fathers, and
have never forgiven us. They count themselves our prisoners, and are
indignant that we should come and gaze upon them in their fallen state
as objects of curiosity. Their village is built upon the high shore of
Niagara about eight miles below the falls, commanding a fine prospect of
the river and lake. They are under the care of a missionary who has been
the means of converting fifty out of the three hundred. This tribe once
belonged to the confederacy of five nations, but came originally from
North Carolina, and are living upon the proceeds of the sale of their
land there and their trade. Some of them are prosperous, industrious
farmers, while the women embroider beautifully, with beads and stained
porcupine quills, upon birch bark and deer skin. These they dispose of
at the shops, and to strangers at the Hotels. Upon these occasions, I am
struck with the difference between this proud race and our own. A pedler
or travelling shopman comes in, unpacks his wares, holds up every
article, insists upon its worth and beauty, and urges you to buy--with
the Indian it is otherwise. At our hotel, while ascending after dinner
to the dining room, one is struck by the sight of a row of dark beings
sitting upright upon the settees in the halls envelloped in cloaks of
scarlet or black, richly embroidered with beads or adorned by pieces of
tin cut in flowers and tacked on. Their eyes are fixed upon the ground,
their long hair falls over their faces, and an expression of profound
melancholy sits upon every countenance. You stand before them and gaze
upon them, but silent, grave, and motionless they sit, like the band of
conscript fathers awaiting the approach of Attila. You at last ask,
‘Have you any moccasins!’ with a dignified motion they throw open their
cloaks, and their laps are filled with articles for sale. You ask the
price--a low musical voice tells you the amount in a very foreign
accent, and that is all I could ever obtain from an Indian woman
although I made many efforts while at Niagara, and they can both speak
and understand English.

I never saw but one of them smile. I asked her what she had for sale in
her lap--she threw it open, and behold a pretty Indian cupid asleep in a
birch cradle, swathed and bandaged in their peculiar fashion. Titania
would have quarrelled for it. At my start of surprise and admiration, a
moonbeam smile flashed over her face and then all was dark and gloomy as
before. The celebrated Timothy Flint tells us, ‘the Indians are a
melancholy musing race; whatever emotion or excitement they feel, goes
on in the inner man.’ So close an observer as he was, and living so
long among them, his views can be relied on as being correct. The
Indians have always been noted for their strong attachment to their
children, and a stranger among them has only to praise the papoose to
win his way to the parents heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

_June 27th._--I could not have believed parting with Niagara would have
caused such sorrow. The lofty, and celestial emotions which are produced
when in the presence of this one of God’s most beautiful creations you
are unwilling to lose. You feel ‘it is good to be here’--and you dread
to leave this holy ground to enter again into scenes which will do much
to efface these pure emotions. A glimpse of heaven has been vouchsafed
you, and most reluctantly you return to earth again. Slowly we sat out
this morning to take a last farewell. We had seen it in all its
brightness and we now beheld it in a sombre hue. The heavens were
overcast, the mist, once of a dazzling whiteness now took a dusky tint,
and hung over the cataract like a mourning veil. It was more in
accordance with my feelings than to have bade her adieu while she was
smiling in the ‘bright garish eye of day’--one might fancy she was sad
at losing such true worshippers. But you cannot understand such feelings
now, they no doubt seem ridiculous--come here, and you will experience
the truth of such emotions. At two o’clock, soon after dinner, we sat
out on the rail road for Buffalo. The road for some time is laid along
the river bank, and gives us a fine view of the islands, rapids, and
other objects of interest, as Fort Schlosser, and Chippewa,--and then a
long low wooded island floating upon the bosom of the broad stream was
shown, as Navy island, the head quarters of the Canadian revolutionist
in ’37 and ’38. The band have however now dispersed, and the island has
returned to its parent, promising never to do so any more. It contains
700[5] acres of good land. The river now begins to expand from one mile
to eight, including Grand Island in the centre. This is twelve miles in
length, and contains 17,384 acres of rich land and stately timber. A
neat village called White Haven stands upon its shore, containing among
other buildings, a steam saw mill which furnishes ship stuff from 20 to
70 feet in length. A fine situation, for such an establishment, as there
is plenty of the raw material for this manufacture in sight all around.

There are 15 or 20 islands between the falls and Lake Erie, some of them
very pretty, adorned with clumps of maple, oak, or cedar. Upon one of
them, Tonawanda isle, is a fine mansion with cultivated grounds and
fields around it. Our road lay through a village of the same name
situated upon Tonawanda creek, a small place through which runs the Erie
canal. We had sufficient time to survey the beauties of Rattle-snake
Island at our leisure, for, when just opposite, a part of our engine
gave way, and we came to a sudden pause. The male passengers were soon
out, to discover the cause, and came back with a report that we could
proceed no farther, as the injury was very great. We were declared to be
‘in a pretty fix.’ A horse was procured from a house in sight, and a man
was despatched upon it to Buffalo about eight miles distant. Many of the
passengers sat out to walk to Black rock 4 miles a head, where they
could procure carriages to take them to Buffalo. The rest of us
remained seated in the coaches, with a hot July sun streaming through
the windows. What should we do--scold at the road, or the train, or the
engineers? No, an American never vexes himself about such things--he is
calm and indifferent under every circumstance. Some of us fell to
reading, some to napping and some to rambling. We undertook the latter,
but as we were only surrounded by ploughed fields soon returned to the
coach, where I busied myself in writing the above. Pray read on if it is
only to repay me for my sufferings those two hours in the heat. I think
I had better abuse this rail road a little, for it deserves it. Do not,
however, suppose I am vexed at being left thus ‘sitting on a rail!’ The
iron is ripped up in several places, causing a jolt when we strike
against these land snags, and a man rides beside the engineer with a
hammer to nail them down. It is the worst rail road I ever travelled
over: however, as it is only used a few months in the year when Niagara
is fashionable, perhaps it may not yield sufficient profit to allow much
expense upon it. Something is seen coming up the road--all heads are
out, and we hope to be released from our captive state--it turns out to
be the return train which had been waiting for our engine and cars, and
now has been obliged to take horses instead. As it was impossible to
pass us, the passengers and their baggage were turned out, and placed in
our coaches, to the Niagara end of which their horses were fastened.
They looked very sourly at us while this was passing, thinking perhaps
of the maxim of Pythagoras to his scholars--Do not remain in the
highway. They wondered at us for sitting in their highway, depriving
them of their engine, and condemning them to the loss of a fine
afternoon at Niagara. Some of them perhaps might have been of that
whisking class of tourists who intended to return the next morning
early, and to them it would be quite a loss.

A joyous shout announced the appearance of our horses, and we were soon
on our way again. We passed through Black Rock, a considerable village,
and then followed the Erie canal for some distance. The last two miles
were upon the borders of Lake Erie which stretched away a mighty mass of
green waters, to the horizon. As this was our first view of our great
‘inland seas, we gazed upon it with much interest. There are many
handsome villas in the vicinity of the town commanding fine views of the
lake and city; one of them, a large Gothic stone mansion, promises to be
quite an ornament to the country if ever finished. At Buffalo we drove
of course to the American Hotel, as its fame had reached us at home. It
is a large stone building, well kept, and elegantly furnished. The
drawing room is as handsome as any in the country, and the dining room
is a large airy commodious apartment lighted with five large gilded
chandeliers. The staircases and halls are of oak covered with copper in
some places--the bedrooms, private parlors, table and attendance as good
as we could find in our boasted city. There is here also a public room,
hired sometimes, for concerts and lectures, which is well lighted with
chandeliers and set round with green silk couches. In fact every thing
is good and neat.

       *       *       *       *       *

_June 28th._--Sabbath morning--that blessed day of rest, given in mercy
as a moment of repose in the wearied journey of life to the ‘world’s
tired denizen!’ We felt its benefit, and rejoiced no stage horn could
hurry us onward, and no bell, save the ‘church going bell’, could summon
us forth. The presbyterian church is a plain building, but handsomely
fitted up inside, and very comfortable. Rev. Mr. Lord is the minister,
an able and pious man. We heard in the morning a very interesting
discourse from Mr. Stilwell of the American Bethel Union. He delivered
it in a Baptist church in which the Rev. Mr. Choules officiates when in
the city. It is a neat, commodious building, the pews made of the native
black walnut cushioned and lined with horse hair. A choir of good
singers accompanied by instruments led the music. The society to which
Mr. Stilwell belongs devotes itself to the sailor’s interest. The state
of the boatmen upon the Erie canal he reported to be very wretched.
There are about 25,000 boatmen and sailors employed upon the canal and
in lake navigation, who were of the lowest and most worthless class of
men; seeming inaccessible to all efforts for their reformation or
conversion. These, mixing with the lower population of Buffalo, and
other towns on their route, exerted a baneful influence. The Bethel
Union attempted to send missionaries among them, but they were abused,
insulted and almost discouraged. Still, as they felt it their duty,
these self-denying men persevered every Sunday in addressing the men
along the canal, and in presenting bibles and tracts. They soon began
however to have some hope, for when the canal closed last autumn there
were only two men who had refused tracts, and only three who insulted
them. With this success, small as it was, they were excited to go on,
hoping the Lord was smiling upon their labors. The minister most
successful among them had once been a canal boy himself, and while
sitting upon his horse dragging the boat, employed himself for hours in
inventing new and strange oaths to surprise his fellow boatmen. The men
now readily listened to him. They were conscious of their degradation,
knew they were despised by all good men, and never hoped to rise. Seeing
now, one of their number so bright and shining a light, they trusted a
boatman’s name would not always be an object of scorn. These poor men
complained to him, that they had no day of rest, as there was as much
forwarding upon the Sabbath as upon any other day. The Captains of the
lake boats were also obliged to struggle against this evil, and in some
instances had renounced their trade upon that account, or upon
remonstrance had been turned adrift for some less scrupulous Captain.
The fault then seems to lie upon the forwarding merchants, whom Mr.
Stillwell addressed, begging their forbearance in this respect.

It is to be hoped this address produced its intended effect, and the
merchants who claim a day of repose for themselves, have granted the
same to the unfortunate boatmen.[6]

       *       *       *       *       *

_June 29._--This morning we sent for a carriage and sat out to see the
city and make some visits. Buffalo, although suffering with all our
cities in the stagnation of trade, seems to be doing a great deal of
business. The rows of shops, and handsome ware-houses, seem to contain
every article necessary for comfort or luxury. It is a larger city than
Rochester, but has not its air of elegance and neatness. The town was
burnt by their neighbors, the Canadians, in 1814, but has since been
rebuilt. The streets are wide and airy, Maine street, the principal
avenue, is more than a mile in length. The churches are neat buildings,
one of them, a catholic, promises, when finished, to be handsome. The
court house is a solid well built edifice having pillars up to the roof.
The markets are very good also. The city is well situated upon ground
rising gently from the lake, the upper part being covered with handsome
private dwellings, which thus obtain fine views of the lake and
surrounding country, and secure for themselves room for their gardens
which are very prettily laid out. There is here also a military station
for the United States troops, whose barracks, comfortable brick
buildings, are built around the parade ground and surrounded by a good
wall. Our friend’s cottage was upon elevated ground looking down upon
the green Niagara river, and enjoying a view of the lake in front, and
behind an extent of country covered with the untamed forest. It was the
first time I had seen a forest landscape, and I looked with much
interest upon this vast plain of green leaves reaching to the distant
horizon; a smoke curled in one spot telling of some settler clearing his
way through the green wood. The handsomest private dwellings here do not
affect the Gothic or Grecian, which had prevailed along our road, but
were substantial square stone or brick buildings, having a marble
portico in front, an cupola upon the top, surrounded by a fancy railing.
Our drive around Buffalo was very interesting, and we wondered, as we
marked such a mass of solid buildings, and depots of articles from every
region in the world, and such throngs of human beings deposited in a
wilderness, but a few years redeemed from the Indian, the buffalo, and
the bear. What industry, what energy, has been employed to bring hither
all these materials. Buffalo is a frontier town, and grand portal of the
west, through which is flowing a constant stream of travellers and
emigrants. This mixture of all nations in the streets, give them an
unique appearance. Here you see the Indian beau with his tunic bound
with a crimson sash, his hat surrounded by a circle of feathers; his
deer skin pantaloons richly embroidered in barbaric patterns, while
ribbons and tassels swing out from his dress at every step. After him
will pass a band of United States soldiers; then a rough back-woodsman,
upon a horse looking as wild as himself, its uncut mane and tail waving
in the wind as he gallops violently through the streets. Then follows a
party of comical German emigrants; a scarlet clad British officer; a
Canadian; a Frenchman; a wild looking son of Erin; a sturdy ruddy,
gaiter legged English farmer; a Tonawanda squaw with her papoose upon
her back; and lastly the dainty lady traveller with her foreign abigal,
and fantastically dressed children. Among the crowd I observed a curious
figure--a one legged negro, wearing an old uniform coat with ruffled
cuffs, ringing a bell most energetically. The old English custom of
sending a bell-man to proclaim the loss of any article, prevails here,
as in some of our other towns, I believe. ‘What is lost, Sambo?’
inquired a person. ‘Your wits, massa,’ he replied quickly, setting his
juvenile train off in a fit of laughter. To another inquirer, he
replied, ‘My leg is lost, don’t you see’ holding up the stump. He is, I
suppose a privileged wit, who, if he cannot set the _table_, no doubt
does the _street_ in a roar. The Buffalonians are a gay social people.
The unamiable fashion of exclusiveness being very little known here,
for, living where the population is continually changing and where
strangers are constantly claiming their hospitality, they have acquired
an easy _unsouciant_ manner, and are ever forming social meetings to
entertain the stranger. Our letters procured for us much kind attention,
and we had an opportunity of witnessing this free hospitable spirit. In
the afternoon one of our friends called, and we drove down where a
fanciful yacht awaited us, and a pleasant party of ladies and gentlemen,
for the purpose of taking us over to the ruined fort opposite the city.
This is a favorite picnic haunt of the young citizens. Fort Erie is upon
the Canadian shore, opposite Buffalo, just at the point where the
Niagara river runs out of lake Erie. It was destroyed during the war of
1812.

I have scarcely enjoyed any thing so much as that sail over Lake Erie.
The lake is here five or six miles broad. The water rushes swiftly past,
as if eager to accomplish its glorious destiny of plunging over the
rocks of Niagara, there to be a spectacle which nations come from afar
to gaze upon. We caught the excitement which seemed to animate the
water, as we were tossed upon its wavelets with quick, gay, tilting
motion; and gazed with much delight at the novel objects around us. The
city, with its numerous domes and spires; the bright Niagara rushing and
gurgling at a rapid rate over the ledge of rocks which once was Erie’s
barrier ere the waters burst their bounds--the gulls wheeling above us,
or floating upon the waves; and above all, that immense lake, that
mighty mass of sparkling emerald water, stretching far into the
mysterious west. The air, breathing from the fresh forest and cool lake,
was so refreshing that I was almost sorry when we reached the shore.
Landing upon a sandy beach, we repaired to the fort, where under the
shadow of a ruined wall, we seated ourselves upon the green sward, and
while refreshing ourselves with the contents of our provision baskets,
our discourse fell upon the hapless fate of those whose blood had dyed
the fair turf around us; or upon other scenes which occurred during that
border war. But now all this is over; conqueror and vanquished are both
beneath the ‘clod of the valley’; the echo of the war trump has died
away; the green earth smiles again as peacefully as if it had never
drank the blood of the dying, and wall, and bastion, are fast crumbling
into their parent elements. The lake, the sky, the shore, are no longer
vexed with sights and sounds of strife. Alas! whence come wars and
fighting among us? Must these things always be? Must earth’s children
ever thus hack and tear each other? And we who are brethren, whose homes
are in sight upon either shore of this bright lake, can we not dwell in
unity? They who have opposite creeds, who differ in dress, in manner, in
language, may and will rival, dislike, detest, fight and exterminate
each other; but we, who are sons of the same father, who speak the same
tongue, Oh, must we be ever thus at enmity?

       [7] Though ages long have passed
        Since our fathers left their home;
      Their pilot in the blast
        O’er untravelled seas to roam,--
    Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!

      And still from either beach
      The voice of blood shall reach,
      More audible than speech,
          “We are one!”

I have said this is a favorite place of resort, and here a party of gay
young people came to avoid the noise of the city, and spend a quiet day
with their books and work, upon the fourth of July. Their little feast
was spread under the shade of the fortress, and they were in the act of
drinking to the day, when they were suddenly taken captive by a band of
English soldiers. It was at that unhappy time when Canada was disturbed
by revolutionary projects, and it was naturally imagined they had come
there purposely to insult them. It was an imprudent frolic, and they
paid dearly for it; they were marched off three miles to a military
station, where, after being fully examined and no signs of revolution
being found upon them, they were suffered to depart and return as they
best might. I relate the anecdote to show how easily we may mistake each
other’s motives, and how soon ill-blood may be brewed between those who
are suspicious of each other, and ready to take offence.

While we were thus discoursing, the sky grew gradually dark, and a veil
of blackness was let down over the lake, giving token of a thunder
shower. We were soon in the boat which tossed very much, but we had able
young seamen who landed us safely just as the sun, bursting forth,
smiled at our idle fears. An evening of social pleasure ended our
agreeable day.


_June 30th._--This morning we were again employed in rambling about the
city. The situation of Buffalo is calculated to make it a great
commercial mart. It is upon the high road to the west, and will command
much of the business of the lakes, while the great Erie canal connects
it with the Atlantic. This canal is indeed a ‘herculean achievement.’ It
is three hundred and sixty-three miles in length, forty feet wide, and
four deep; contains six hundred and eighty-eight feet of locks; is
crossed by several fine aqueducts; and all this was completed in eight
years. There are other canals connected with it. This great artery,
bringing up the produce of Europe to the west, through this city, must
increase its prosperity[8] and population.

At twelve o’clock this morning embarked in the steamboat Constellation
for Chicago, through lakes Erie, St. Clair, Huron and Michigan, a
distance of twelve hundred miles, for which we are to pay twenty
dollars, ten each. The wharves as we left them presented a busy scene.
We counted forty steamboats and canal boats, beside several large
vessels. Among the latter was the Queen Charlotte, a stately ship of
war belonging to Canada, but degraded to the ignoble fate of a Buffalo
trader. She had, it is true, lost some of her original brightness ere
thus fallen, for she had been twenty-three years under water, having
been sunk in a naval fight on Lake Erie, and lately raised. The wharves
were loaded with produce and merchandize, while carts, boats, and men,
were loading and being unloaded.

We left Buffalo with regret. Its majestic river and noble lake--its back
ground of forests, gay streets, and social people, have left a vivid and
pleasing picture upon our memories. A fine pier, or breakwater as they
call it, of solid mason work extends 1100 feet, protecting the wharves
from the waves. A light house stands upon the end of the pier. When the
city had completely faded into the distant horizon we turned our gaze on
our companions. Upon one corner of the deck was a promiscuous heap of
chairs, children, pots, kettles, men and women, being a family moving
west. That old man with a cocked hat, and large metal buttons, the young
man in a blue frock, and women with embroidered stomachers and
indescribable caps, sitting upon a pile of strange looking articles of
husbandry, and huge unwieldy chests, is a band of emigrants from central
Europe. A party of English gentleman from Canada were there, bound upon
a hunting expedition to Wisconsin--another of Buffalo young men, were
going to while away the summer months in a fishing excursion upon Lake
Superior, a long light skiff being part of their travelling luggage.
There were also tourists for pleasure, information and health like
ourselves, and some few going to inspect lands which they had bought
unseen. Our steamboat is a very fine one although not of the first
class. There is a handsome saloon for the ladies surrounded by a circle
of state-rooms opening upon the deck--below are the eating rooms and
gentlemen’s cabin, the whole fitted up with comfort and elegance. There
are about 53 steamboats upon lake Erie, some of them of six hundred
tons, and fitted up with every luxury and elegance, many costing from
$15,000 to $120,000 each. They are built upon a fine model, and are well
finished. The upholsterer’s bill sometimes amounts to $4,000. They are
generally built very strong to resist the waves that run high here. The
complement of men for one of these boats amounts to 40; the captain
receiving $100 a month. After an excellent dinner we ascended to the
promenade deck which, like our Hudson river boats is the uppermost deck,
surrounded with seats. We were out upon lake Erie, and gazed around us
with wonder and delight. The water was a fine dark green, which as the
wind was high, was tossed in waves crested with white foam, or sparkling
spray. The shores were in some places low and wooded, alternating with
gentle elevations, at whose foot ran a line of yellow sand--a sky of
purest azure dotted with fleecy clouds was above. What a lovely scene--

    “Where shall we find in foreign land
    So lone a lake, so sweet a strand?”

asks Sir Walter. This lake however is rather larger than his Scottish
lake, it being 290 miles long. It has the character of being the most
tempestuous of all the lakes, a fact we were soon able to verify, for in
the afternoon the wind increased to a gale, and the waves dashing
against our vessel gave us each time a shock as if she had struck a
rock.

The ladies soon began to feel the effects of such tossing, and one after
another retired to their berths quite ill. Forty-five miles from Buffalo
we stopped at the town of Dunkirk, which is the termination of the New
York and Erie rail road. It commences at Hudson river 25 miles above the
city of New York, a distance of 450 miles from its end. This town, under
these circumstances, is rising rapidly. It has a fine circular bay
having two projecting points which protect it, one and a half miles
across--and is one of the best harbors upon the lake. There is also a
pier within the shelter of which five large schooners were moored. We
observed a rail road depot ready for the future engines and train--a
church, tavern and a few stores. Several little boys came on board with
pails of cherries for sale, which they disposed of at four cents a
quart. Here we landed a passenger, an inhabitant of Dunkirk, who, during
the voyage, had been vaunting the advantages of his town. The day would
soon come, he said, when he should no longer resort to Buffalo for his
goods, as the new rail road would bring all the trade to Dunkirk.
Darkness drove us to our state room, which we found replete with every
convenience--a circumstance much to our satisfaction as we were to spend
a week in it ere we reached our destined haven. I would recommend you if
you ever travel this way, to choose, as we did, a state cabin looking
towards the shore, for these boats stop at every considerable town, and
of course keep near the coast. In consequence of this arrangement, we
could, if inclined, sit in our cabin, and through the open door, or
window, behold the scenery at our ease; while those upon the opposite
side, gazed out upon an uniform waste of waters without a shore. I thus
obtained a sight of the town of Erie where we stopped during the night.
Aroused by the noise, I looked from my window and saw the town
distinctly by clear starlight. This town is in Pennsylvania, and is the
termination of the Pittsburg and Erie canal. In the canal basin, beside
canal boats, I saw a large steamboat and several schooners. Presque Isle
defends the harbor. There was a large hotel brightly illuminated, and
some stage coaches, awaiting the arrival of passengers. Erie stands upon
a high mass of Schistose rock surmounted by a stratum of clay--the whole
forty feet above the lake.[9] There is said to be here a neat court
house, and several pretty houses surrounded by trees--the streets are at
right angles, and the trade considerable. There was a bridge spanning
the canal, which I hoped was the one where the revered La Fayette was
feted. It was formed into a large tent by sails and flags, which had
waved in the battle upon the lake, under which was a fine collation.
Several ships of war have been built here. You will surely give me
credit of being a first rate correspondent when I leave my slumbers to
collect items for your amusement and edification.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 1st._--Early this morning we found ourselves off Conneaut, which
we looked upon with interest as belonging to the great state of Ohio. It
is a small place, at the mouth of Conneaut creek near the boundary line
between Pennsylvania and Ohio--is a small but flourishing place. The
next town we passed was Ashtabula, or rather its landing place, the town
being some miles in the interior. A wooden breakwater defends the
harbor. A river of the same harmonious Indian designation empties itself
into the lake sullying its pure acqua-marine, with a dark brown tint
which could be distinctly seen a mile from the shore. The day is
lovely--our boat glides swiftly upon her course. On one hand we have a
line of green waving forest coast, where the oak, the elm, the linden,
and the maple, and stately yellow birch are standing in pretty groups,
or gracefully bending over the water--upon the other we have a shoreless
ocean. For miles there are no signs of human existence, and then some
little village appears with its invariable accompaniment, a pier,
lighthouse and schooner. We passed Fairport, at the mouth of Grand
river, and from thence the ground begins to rise, being a band of
argillaceous schist, which extends to Cleveland. This is a beautiful
town standing upon this formation mixed with sand and pebbles elevated
sixty or seventy feet above the lake of which it commands a fine
prospect. It was a pretty object in our view as we approached, its
steeples and buildings crowning the summit of the picturesque cliff. We
lay here some hours taking merchandise, thus enjoying sufficient time to
examine it. The steamboat passed up, the Cuyahoga river through two
piers each 1200 feet in length. Upon each side the ground arose from the
river covered with the buildings of two rival towns, Cleveland and Ohio
city. The business streets are upon the banks of the Cuyahoga river, and
the wharves were lined with vessels, merchandise and native buckeyes, as
the Ohio people are called after their beautiful tree. Cleveland is
built upon a plain; the streets running at right-angles, wide and airy
with a pretty square in the centre. There are six churches, a neat court
house, banks, public library, and many handsome dwelling houses. The
population is 7,000 and several newspapers and periodicals are published
here.[10] It is 170 miles from Buffalo. We had been a day and a half
reaching it, on account of our frequent stoppages. This being the
northern termination of the Ohio canal a great deal of business is done
here. Their trade in flour and wheat is very great, they having exported
nearly a million of barrels of flour in one season--cotton, tobacco and
other southern merchandise has passed up from the Ohio river through the
canal. This canal runs the whole length of the state of Ohio to
Portsmouth upon the Ohio river a distance of 309 miles. It is forty feet
wide, four deep, and has 152 locks.[11] The Cuyahoga river is sixty
three miles in length, and running down over the sandstone ledges which
abound in that region, it has a fall of 240 feet, affording a fine water
power. From Buffalo to the borders of Michigan there is a band of
alluvion upon the lake shore from three to twenty miles in width. This
is bounded by a ridge of rocks 40 or 50 feet high once, according to
Darby and Schoolcraft, the original boundary of the lake, thus giving
another proof that these lakes were once higher than at present they
are. This ridge is composed of micaceous limestone, and schistose
rocks, covered with farms, and groves of beech and oak which attain to a
large size. Yesterday afternoon while sailing upon the lake, we observed
these hills making a pretty back ground to the towns on the shore--now
it trends too much to the interior to be seen. In this ridge arise
waters which flow each way, some into lake Erie, and others, as the
Muskingum and Alleghany, into the valley of the Ohio. This last river,
becoming the Ohio, falls into the gulf of Mexico ‘upwards of twelve
degrees of latitude from its source.’[12] Successive ledges or _steppes_
of sandstone rock lead down to the lake, over which the rivers flow in
rapids or falls, making the scenery in that region very beautiful. We
took in at Cleveland several barrels of flour, and nails, and Selma
salt, and boxes of merchandise,--landed several passengers, and then
left this interesting town. It must, I imagine be a very delightful
place of residence. The Cuyahoga could be distinctly traced some
distance from the shore in a long dark line.

The swell in the lake still continuing, most of our passengers had
become too ill to leave their berths. A horse which was at the other end
of the vessel also became affected. Our German emigrants felt it least,
as they had been seasoned by crossing the Atlantic. I saw them seated
upon their packages, eating brown bread and cheese as merrily as ever.
Their passage costs them little as they provide their own frugal fare,
and sleep upon their goods on the deck. Several others pursued this
economical plan. The emigrants from the German and Swiss nations are
invaluable to us and ought to be warmly received, for in industry,
economy and patience, they set a very excellent example to our
extravagant people. They always succeed; their settlements and farms
present an admirable order and neatness, and yield a rich reward to
their patient labor. The restless spirit, the excitement, caused by a
hope of rising in the world, of seeing no one above him, which animates
the American bosom, and many of our transplanted brethren, never
agitates them. Where they plant themselves they remain, and in labor and
social duties, pass the even tenor of their way. The motion, rendered it
impossible to walk, or even stand unless supported, and instead of being
unpleasant to me, I have seldom experienced sensations so novel and
delightful. My companion being an old traveller felt no ill effects from
it either. Leaning over the railing, we watched the vessel as she
surmounted one huge wave to sink again as soon. The fresh western
breeze, breathing perfume from the forest clad shores, exhilerated our
spirits, and spread forth our star-spangled banner in a bright canopy
over our heads. Two noble steamboats filled with passengers from the
‘far west’ passed us with their banners flying, the bells of the three
boats ringing out their friendly salutations to each other. They are
gone--the white foam of their track alone remaining to show where so
many human beings had just been wafted away. How glorious was that
sunset on lake Erie! Dark and stormy clouds had gradually gathered from
every quarter, and now dropped down as a veil over the west concealing
the sun from our view, and the lake is one vast gloomy abyss. But
see--some fairy hand has touched the clouds with gold and purple and
every gorgeous hue--the surface of the water is streaked with rose, and
every wave is gilded. The towers of Cleveland now distinctly painted
against the dark horizon, are glittering as if cut from jewelry. Our
fears of storms are vanishing, when suddenly a black terrific cloud
spotted with fiery blood color, appeared in front of us, as if the
Indian Manitou had arisen from the lake to arrest our progress and
forbid our farther entrance into his dominions. Larger and larger it
grew, until the heavens were covered with inky blackness, A terrible
blast lashed the lake into fury--the waves arose in their might as if to
reject us from its bosom--our vessel careened fearfully upon one side,
and confusion ensued. Men hurried forward to remove the merchandise to
the other side and trim the vessel--women’s heads were, from the cabin
doors asking ‘what’s the matter’ and torrents of rain are surging over
the deck. The awnings are buttoned down--all is proclaimed tight and
right, and we retired to our state-room to listen to the wail of the
wind, and write our promised journals.




LETTER VI.


JULY 2, 1840.

_Dear E._--Rocked by the tempest we slept soundly, but arose in time to
witness a glorious sunrise scene upon lake Erie. We were in the centre
of the lake--no land was visible on either side, save two lonely
islands, one of which was just vanishing upon the distant horizon, while
the other one was only a short distance from our vessel. Suddenly a
dazzling radiance shot up from the east, and in a few moments the sun
came rushing from out the water as if in eager haste to greet his
favorite lake. A flood of glory lighted up the green depths of Erie;
tinging the foam with a thousand prismatic hues, and tipping with gold
the white plumage of the birds which were soaring over our heads. The
dark alleys of beech, maple, and hickory which covered the island, and
its pebbly shore covered with diamond spray, were illumined with the
morning rays, receiving new beauty from every touch. We were stretching
from Sandusky bay upon the Ohio shore to the Detroit river; many islands
were passed, some of them quite large. Cuningham island contains 2,000
acres. They are of limestone rock covered with forest trees. Here was
the scene of the famous naval battle upon lake Erie, and these peaceful
glades once echoed with the cannon’s roar. I regretted not seeing
Sandusky, a large and pretty town, situated upon a river and bay of the
same name. Here also is the mouth of the Maumee river, or the Miami of
the lakes, northern termination of the great canal which commences at
Cincinnati, and is connected with the canals of Indiana.

Land began to appear upon our western quarter, and soon the State of
Michigan became visible. The mouth of Detroit river was soon after seen
here, five miles wide from the Canadian shore to Michigan. At
Amherstburg, a small Canadian town, we stopped about seven o’clock, for
the purpose of taking in wood. The flashing of bayonets and the red
uniform, as the sentinel walked up and down the wharf, told us we were
in a land belonging to another nation. Fort Malden is passed soon after.
Upon a platform, in front of the fortress, a file of soldiers were going
through their exercises, their brilliant scarlet dresses and arms,
prettily flashing back the morning sun. A boat, filled with red-coated
soldiers, was passing over to an island to relieve the guard which stood
upon a romantic point, near his little sentry box. A large ship came
rapidly down the river, with all its sails out, looking like a huge bird
of prey winging his flight to the shore, adding to the variety of the
scene. Detroit is a beautiful river, connecting lakes St. Clair and
Erie. Its width is generally about a mile--opposite Detroit city
three-fourths of a mile. The shores are very beautiful, cultivated upon
each side, with several pretty islands in the centre. Upon the Canadian
side we observed several French settlements, their windmills upon every
point giving a novel and unique effect to the scene. We did not reach
Detroit until ten o’clock, although it is only 19 miles from the mouth
of the river, owing to our delay in taking in wood. The city appeared
well, covering a plateau of ground elevated 40 feet above the river.
Three steamboats were in sight as we approached, one being a ferry boat
to the town of Sandwich, opposite. As we were to remain here some time
we landed and walked about the city. The city stands upon a plain which
commands an extensive view of the river and surrounding country. A broad
street runs through the centre called Jefferson avenue, lined on each
side with shops and hotels. At the upper end are several handsome
dwellings surrounded with gardens. The churches are common in their
appearance, except the catholic, which I must say was uncommon. It is a
large building of unpainted wood, having two odd looking steeples
exactly alike, in the centre of the front; at the back is a dome having
on each side a belfrey. Adjoining this is the residence of the Bishop, a
large brick building. I was disappointed in the appearance of this city.
It was built by the French, you know, in 1670, and being so much older
than Rochester or Buffalo, we naturally supposed it would be larger than
it is. But the same causes do not operate here which influence the
prosperity of the other cities. It has not the old and settled state of
New York behind it, nor the great canal. Michigan, of which Detroit is
the capital, has been recently settled, and that only in the southern
parts. The fur trade was for years its main dependence, and that has of
late fallen off very much. As man invades the recesses of the forest,
the animals retreat before him. Detroit has, however, felt the wind in
her sails, and is rapidly following after her southern sisters. Of this,
the increase of population is one proof--2,222 being their number in
1830, and 1839, 9,278. Several railroads are planned out, which, when
the river and lakes are filled with ice, will be of much service. Of
these, the Detroit and St. Joseph are the principal--leading from this
city across the State to lake Michigan, a distance of 194 miles; 33
miles are completed. Many persons take this route to Chicago, in
preference to the more extensive one around the lakes. Besides these,
there are in contemplation the Detroit and Pontiac; Shelby and Detroit,
&c. Michigan will soon fill up, as its population has increased since
1830, seven hundred per cent.; then it was 28,600, and now, in 1840,
they count 211,205. Detroit will then be the great depot of the lakes,
and bids fair to rival the neighboring cities. Here we landed our German
emigrants, who were bound to the rich plains of Michigan. Upon the wharf
were men busily engaged packing white fish salted, with barrels, fifty
of which we took on board. The white fish is a delicious fish, something
the form of our shad, averaging from 4 to 10 lbs. and sometimes weigh 14
lbs. There is a great trade of this fish upon the lakes. 30,000 barrels
were exported from Cleveland this season. While passing the city, when
we had resumed our voyage, we observed several rows of handsome ware
houses, many of which seemed as if newly erected. We also noticed a
large brick building erected for the hydraulic works which supply the
city with water, it being in these lakes fit for cooking, washing and
drinking. This city is the scene of one of Pontiac exploits. He was one
of those brave and haughty spirits who cannot accustom themselves to the
yoke of the white men. Of these, a few have appeared in latter years;
Black Hawk being the last. The French he had become accustomed to, and
suffered their presence in his realms, but when another nation appeared
he determined to root them out the land. They were at peace apparently,
but a deceitful peace, for Pontiac was organizing a confederacy against
the English, who then occupied Detroit. ‘There was no sounding of the
tocsin, no alarm of war given, no motion of the waves were felt,’ to
quote the words of McKenney--‘In this moment of stillness, a scout
returned bringing the intelligence that a large body of Indians were
crossing lake St. Clair in canoes, and coming in the direction of
Detroit, while numerous bands were appearing at every point.’ Pontiac
appeared in the neighborhood with 3,000 warriors, who, in a friendly
manner approached the fort, erected their wigwams, and commenced their
Indian games, to lull all suspicion. That very band, unknown to the
English, had just returned from the bloody massacre of Fort
Michilimackinack, which they had surprised in the manner they now
intended. Major Gladwin, however, suspected them, and admitted only six
Indians at a time in the fort. The wily Pontiac at length succeeded in
having a council held at the fort, and was permitted to attend with
thirty-six chiefs. Their rifles were cut short and hid under their
robes, with which they were to shoot down the officers and seize the
fort. Were it not for the fidelity of a squaw to her master in the
fort, the plan would have succeeded. As it was, they suffered severely
from famine, and many were cut off who came to reinforce them, before
the Indians finally retreated. Ten miles from Detroit the river
gradually expands into lake St. Clair. A pretty lake--a most sweet
lake--appearing small among its larger sisters, and yet it is 90 miles
in circumference. The waters are cool and transparent, fringed with the
graceful ash, the linden, ‘tasseled gentle,’ the beech, and the stately
lioriodendron, and many other varieties. We felt reluctant to enter and
ruffle the glassy surface, and disturb the profound repose which reigned
around. The shores are low and there are no houses in sight. A wood
cutter’s hut, and at its extremity, a light-house, were the only signs
of life we saw. The trees were throwing their flickering shadows upon
the placid water, or leaning over, as if to admire their own reflection
so perfectly painted upon the mirrored surface,--

    In which the massy forest grew,
      As if in upper air;
    More perfect both in shape and hue,
      Than any waving there.

If you do not choose to emigrate to any of those charming spots I have
mentioned along the road; if Auburn, or Rochester, or Cleveland do not
lure you, perhaps you would like to come to the picturesque shores of
St. Clair, and weave you a bower ‘in some sweet solitary nook’ under
those trees of ‘ancient beauty;’ or erect a picturesque hermitage with a
pet skull, and moralize and spiritualize your hours away. I have heard
many declare they could better worship their Creator in the fields and
woods than in temples made with hands, and can ‘look from nature up to
nature’s God.’ I fear such are greatly deceived in the nature of their
feelings, and many a lonely anchorite has thus mistaken adoration of the
beauties of creation for worship of its Creator. His heart may be filled
with the most elevated emotions while contemplating the glory and
grandeur of God’s works, and he may be subdued to tears of tenderness
while reflecting upon that kindness and mercy which has adorned the
residence of man with such exquisite loveliness; but will that
regenerate his heart? will it give him a knowledge of his Savior; shew
him the mysteries of faith and redemption, and subject his will to that
of Christ? If so, let him live upon a mountain top, and gaze at will;
but I much fear these sentiments are but the ‘semblance of sacredness.’

The shores of St. Clair, being low, display the rise which has taken
place in these northern lakes. That there is a rise and fall in this
singular mass of fresh water has been observed for many years; and many
opinions have been hazarded as to its cause. Some of the Indians declare
there is a regular rise and fall every seven years; while the scientific
traveller, Darby, tells us there is a rise once in fifty years. A
person, upon whose knowledge we could rely, told us at Buffalo, one
year, while he resided upon the banks of the St. Lawrence, the current
ran out of lake Ontario at the rate of ten miles, and the next year the
lake had unaccountably risen, and ran thirteen miles an hour. It must
have been one of those extraordinary floods, of course much higher,
which caused the lakes to overflow, as I have mentioned above--that is,
if it were not a diluvial torrent. The captain of our steamboat, who
had navigated these lakes for several years, a man of intelligence and
integrity, agreed with the Indians in the belief of a gradual rise and
fall in seven years. During these last two years the water has risen to
the height of five or six feet. Our captain pointed to many spots, upon
the shore, where the water had overflowed the land. Upon one pretty
place a farm house had been abandoned, and a fine apple orchard,
standing two years in the water, had been destroyed; and now, while all
around was green, their limbs were bare and leafless. A very intelligent
man, a settler upon the river St. Clair, pointed to several noble maple
and beech trees, as we passed the Michigan shore, whose gradual decay he
had watched, while making his spring and fall trips in order to purchase
goods in New York. It was pitiable, he said, to behold such goodly
trees, ‘green robed senators of ancient woods,’ sinking beneath the
subtle destroyer, as some noble heart withering away at the touch of
affliction! He watched them with an interest he would a friend consuming
under a slow decay--their glorious beauty dimmed and faded, until a
lifeless skeleton alone remained.

                    “a huge oak dry and dead,
    Still clad with relics of its trophies old,
    Lifting to heaven its aged hoary head,
    Whose foot on earth hath got but feeble hold.”

This man’s history interested us much, and I will relate it for your
edification. He was a native of our city of New York, one of a large
family straightened for means. While quite young he had married, and
struggled for years to support his family respectably, but sickness and
‘bad times’ rendered his lot a gloomy one. Hearing so often of the
happiness and prosperity of ‘the west,’ he resolved to remove thither,
and accordingly bought a tract of land upon St. Clair river, then
farther west than it now is. He came here twenty years since, with a
wife and several young children, and a mere trifle in money. A little
village has now risen around him, of which he is the owner. He has built
a good tavern for travellers, which he rents out; has erected a
saw-mill; a few shops and houses, and a little church. His children are
married and settled around him; and he is, as he expressed himself,
‘independent of the world.’ Once a year he goes to New York or Buffalo,
to purchase goods for his shop. How much better is this state of things
than to remain, struggling for a morsel, among the hungry crowd of a
large city. I asked him if he never repented renouncing a city life.
‘No, indeed!’ he answered--‘I go there once or twice a year to transact
business, but hurry away, for I feel as if in prison. I want elbow room,
and never breathe free until threading my green lakes and vast forests
again. I am glad to leave such fictitious existence, where each man
models his conduct upon that of his neighbor, and dare not act as his
spirit prompts him.’ We had passed into St. Clair river, and about
sun-down dropped this man and his goods at his little village, which was
seated upon a green slope, cut out of the forest, upon the Michigan
shore. The houses were surrounded by little gardens and seemed
comfortable.

The sign of the village inn was swinging in the summer breeze; a
traveller had just alighted from his horse in front of the piazza, and
the steam from his mill was rising high above the trees tinted purple in
the evening light. From a shop door a young man, probably his son,
accompanied by a neighbor, stepped forth to greet him; while, from the
honeysuckle-covered porch of a neat cottage a woman, whom I fancied his
wife, was looking eagerly out to watch his approach. Every thing denoted
industry, cheerfulness, and independence.

Soon after leaving the village of Clay, we observed a ship at anchor
near the shore, quite a picturesque object. It proved to be the
Milwaukie, a ship of three hundred tons burthen, bound from Buffalo to
Chicago. It was waiting for wind, or steam, to enable it to enter lake
Huron, as this lake pours into the river St. Clair with so strong a
current, that vessels can seldom stem it without a strong wind. She was
soon attached to our steamboat, and we both passed swiftly along. What a
superb western sky! The sun has long left us, and yet we scarcely miss
its light, so golden and so brilliant is the mantle he has left behind
him. It is nearly nine o’clock, and yet I can see to write this, but
fatigue drives me to my cabin, and forces me to say adieu until
to-morrow.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 3d._--Still in the river St. Clair. We stopped some hours in the
night at Newport, to take in a supply of wood. The captain purchased
eighty cords at $1,50 a cord. He told us it was his opinion the
steamboats upon these waters would soon be obliged to burn coal,
although surrounded by such a world of trees, as there is so much time
wasted in stopping for it. I did not regret our detention, as I was
anxious to lose no part of a scenery to me so novel and pleasing. This
is a beautiful river about sixty miles long, and half a mile broad,
having several little towns upon it. Cotrelville and Palmer we had also
passed in the night; the latter a thriving place, from which a rail road
is contemplated to Romeo, twenty-six miles, there to meet the Shelby and
Detroit rail road. A communication will thus be continued with Detroit
through the winter. The country upon the Canadian shore is wild and
uninhabited, while the Michigan side of the river is frequently adorned
with fields of grass or wheat, or thrifty orchards. The houses are
plain, but seemed surrounded by every comfort. Our course ran quite near
this shore, so close, that I might fancy myself transported into the
midst of a farm yard, with all its morning business going on. A pretty
white wood house is before me now, surrounded by fields and barns,
having a row of cherry trees in front whose fruit is glistening red in
the morning sun. In the barn yard a man is chopping wood, to cook the
breakfast, I suppose--another is busy hoeing in a potatoe field--a boy
is leading a horse down to the river for water, while numerous other
children are arrested in their play and stand open mouthed gazing at
us--ducks are dabbling in the wavelets--pigs are rooting up the turf--a
flock of geese are running down the bank at us with beaks and wings
extended in a warlike attitude--while a sober cow chews her cud under a
large hickory nut tree. The next moment all is gone, to give place to
the silent groves of oak, maple and ash. Upon a long narrow island near
the Canadian shore, my eyes were attracted by what seemed a row of
haystacks. I enquired the meaning, and was told I was looking upon an
Indian village, and these were wigwams. I was delighted to behold a
veritable Indian lodge, and to see _real_ Indians, instead of those
half civilized beings I had met at Niagara. They are a body of
Chippeway Indians who reside upon Warpole Island under the care of a
Missionary of the Methodist church. Their wigwams consisted of poles
meeting at top, around which, coarse matting, formed of reeds is
fastened. From the apex of these cones smoke was rising, telling of
culinary operations going on within. Around each lodge was a small patch
of potatoes or corn. A small church, with the missionary cottage and a
few log cabins, were in the midst. Groups of Indians were lounging upon
the bank gazing at us, while others unconcernedly pursued their usual
occupations of fishing or hoeing. How much more graceful were those wild
sons of the forest, than the civilized men I had observed upon the
shores I had passed. Their mantles of cloth or blanket stuff, trimmed
with gay colors, were gracefully thrown around them, and their
ornamented leggins or moccasins glittered as they walked. How dignified
is the tread of an Indian! we remarked as we passed the island, many in
various occupations and attitudes, yet they never moved awkwardly, nor
sprang, nor jumped in a clumsy manner. The missionary cottage was an
object of great interest to us. I had often read of these self-denying
disciples of Jesus, but never before looked upon the scene of their
labors. Here in this lonely shore, away from all they love--their
friends and home--and almost shut out from the face of civilized man,
they spend their days in laboring to ameliorate the lot of these unhappy
children of the forest. In bringing them to the feet of their master,
they are indeed conferring a blessing upon them past all return. As a
recompense for the bright land their fathers have taken from the
bereaved Indian, they are leading them to another, brighter and more
lasting. There is no change, nor shadow of turning--there, no enemy can
destroy their homes--there, the tears are wiped from their eyes, and all
their sorrows soothed. Noble missionary, who can appreciate thy
sacrifice? None but those who have come from a civilized land, where
thou hast passed thy early days, and who now sees thee among the endless
forests with no associates save those wretched savages, can understand
the greatness of thy disinterestedness. During the short summer, a
residence may be tolerable, but when the rivers and lakes are choaked up
by ice, the short glimpse he has obtained of his fellow man, while
whirled past in a steamboat, will be denied him. The roar of the winter
wind will shake his cottage, and the wolf will scare him from his
slumbers. But what are earthly joys or sorrows to a child of Christ? His
meat and drink is to do the will of him that sent him, and in return for
the comforts and pleasures of civilized life, he receives a peace ‘the
world cannot give’--a joy, David in all the glory of his kingly life
sighed for, when he prayed ‘Give me the joy of thy salvation.’ A small
settlement is formed at the mouth of Black river, called Port Huron,
which is to be the termination of another canal across the state.

Here we found another vessel waiting for wind. It was the brig Rocky
Mountain, bound to Green Bay, being attached to our other side we passed
‘doubly armed.’ Near the point where the river leaves lake Huron stands
fort Gratiot, an United States military station whose white walls and
buildings, over which the American flag was waving, looked out brightly
from among the dark forest of the Michigan shore. A line of blue coats
were going through their morning drill; and a few cannons looked out
fiercely upon us. A small white Gothic church, and a cottage stood near;
the whole making a pretty cabinet picture. The river now narrowed to a
quarter of a mile, upon each side a point--the American side crowned by
a light-house, and the Canadian by a cluster of Indian cabins. A bark
canoe, paddled by five Indians, pushed off the shore and came after us
with the greatest rapidity, their long black hair flying wildly behind
them. Our two vessels retarded our motion a little, so that the Indians
overtook us, and kept at our side for some distance. They used their
paddles with astonishing quickness, and we were surprised to see them in
their ‘light canoe,’ keep pace with our large steamboat. It was however
for a short distance only--they were soon fatigued with such great
exertion, and turned towards the point, and sprang out, or rather
stepped out with the greatest dignity, drew the canoe to the shore, and
then _squatted_ down upon the bank evidently enjoying their race. I use
the above inelegant word, as being very expressive of their posture. The
Indian never sits down as we do--with his feet close beside each other,
and his body erect, he sinks slowly down--his blanket is then thrown
over his head and around his feet, so that nothing is seen except his
dark glaring eyes. Through the narrow pass before mentioned, between the
two points, the waters of Huron run with a swift current. Here we were
furnished with another evidence of the rise of these waters.

An officer of the army and his wife were our fellow voyagers, very
intelligent and agreeable persons. They had been stationed at fort
Gratiot a few years since, and had frequently roved over the beach
around the light-house in search of the pretty silecious pebbles, agate,
camelian, and calcedony, which are often found upon these shores. To
their surprise, they now found their favorite point, ‘curtailed of its
fair proportions’ by a rise of nearly five feet of water. Our steamboat
and its two ‘tenders,’ passed between the points out of St. Clair river,
and we found ourselves at once in a large and shoreless lake, with
nothing in front, between us and the bright blue sky, which touched the
green waters in the far horizon beyond. The transition is so sudden from
the narrow opening, to the boundless lake as to produce a grand and
exciting effect. Once out upon the calm waters of Huron, our two guests
were loosened from their tackles, and spreading their huge wings, they
passed one to each shore, and we soon left them far behind. About an
hour after, the bell of our steamboat startled the still lake with its
clamors, denoting the approach of some vessel. We looked out in time to
see the noble steamboat Great Western rush past us as if upon the wings
of a whirlwind. She was on her way from Chicago to Buffalo. Her bell
answered ours, and the deck was crowded with passengers. One of these
standing alone by himself, and taking his hat off attracted our notice
and we discovered in him an old acquaintance from New York. These
meetings in a distant land are very interesting, carrying our feelings
at once to the home we had left. This steamboat is one of the largest
upon the lakes, is finished in a style of great elegance, and is said
to be as long as the English steamship of the same name.

This whole day since ten o’clock--we have been passing through Huron
under a cloudless sky. The lake is two hundred and fifty-five miles
long, and its waters are of a deeper tint than those we have passed,
owing to its great depth, as we are sailing over nine hundred feet of
water, while in some places it is said to be unfathomable. The color is
a dark olive almost black, and it is only when the sun shines through
the waves that we can perceive they are green. The cause of the various
colors of water has produced many a hypothesis. Sir Humphry Davy tells
us the primitive color of water is like the sky, a delicate azure.[13]
He says ‘the finest water is that which falls from the atmosphere--this
we can rarely obtain in its pure state, as all artificial contact gives
more or less of contamination; but, in _snow melted by the sunbeams_
that has fallen upon glaciers, themselves formed from frozen snow, may
be regarded as in its state of greatest purity. Congelation expels both
salt and air from water whether existing below, or formed in the
atmosphere; and in the high and uninhabited region of glaciers, there
can scarcely be any substances to contaminate. Removed from animal and
vegetable life, they are even above the mineral kingdom.’ Water from
melted snow, then considered as the purest, Sir Humphrey goes on to
describe its color. ‘When a mass is seen through, it is a bright blue,
and according to its greater or less depth of substance, it has more or
less of this color.’ ‘In general when examining lakes and masses of
water in high mountains, their color is the same bright azure. Capt.
Parry states that water in the Polar ice has the like beautiful tint.’
The brown, green, and other colors of rivers he imputes to substances
over which they flow, as peat bogs, vegetable and mineral substances. He
allows the sea cannot be colored from any thing upon the bottom, but
imputes the tint to the infusion of iodine, and brome which he has
detected in sea water, the result of decayed marine vegetables. Of this
primitive water are our lakes formed, originating as they do in regions
of snow and ice. Lake Superior, from whence they flow, is a vast basin
of trap rock, of volcanic origin.[14] It is the most magnificent body of
water in the world, five hundred miles long, and nine hundred deep, and
perfectly pellucid. Into this pure, and originally, azure primitive
water, there flow forty rivers, upon the south side alone, according to
Mr. McKenney of the Indian department, who counted this number from St.
Mary’s to the river St. Louis. These rivers he tells us are all _amber
colored_. Why then may not these yellow rivers flowing into blue water,
produce _green_. You see I like to hazard a hypothesis as well as
others. I hope you will not call this absurd. Col. McKenney himself,
imputes the green color to reflection of the ‘rays of light passing
through the foliage of the shores, conveying their own green hue unto
the surface of the water from which they are reflected.’ This might be
the case in small rivers or lakes, but it cannot thus tint such a vast
extent of water. A writer in the American Journal of Science, is of
opinion the color of water is reflected from the sky, and is blue, dull,
black, or golden, as the sky may be--and that ‘green is produced in
water, by the yellow light of the sun mixed with the cerulean blue
through which it shines.’ On the contrary the Count Xavier de
Maistre,[15] does not impute the color of water to any infused
substance, nor to reflection from above, but reflection from the surface
below, ‘as the blue color of the sky is owing to reflection from the
earth beneath.’ ‘Limpid waters, when they have sufficient depth,’ says
the Count, reflect like air, a blue color from below,--and this arises
from a mixture of air, which water always contains to a greater or
lesser amount. This blue color, being the primitive hue of water is
sometimes clouded or lost by earthy infusion, or reflections from a
colored sky. The green tinge which he sometimes observed in water, he
tells us, is occasioned by reflection from a _white_ surface below. This
he proves by his experiment of a sheet of tin painted white let down
beneath the water--and his description of the water in the beautiful
limestone grotto, on the shore of the Mediteranian at Capri. The green
tint observed in the ocean is only seen when it is so shallow, as to
reflect the sun’s rays from the earth beneath it.

As the States surrounding these lakes are more or less underlaid by
limestone, we may suppose the bottoms of the waters are in some places
paved with it; and from this, or the shores under the water and around
it, may be reflected, according to the Count’s theory, the light which
gives the water a green appearance. But I will not trouble you with any
more speculations; they come with an ill grace from me who only pretend
to describe all that passes before my eyes.

In the afternoon we were off Saginaw bay, an indentation in the coast of
Michigan running seventy or eighty miles deep and forty wide, making the
lake here very broad; in one spot we were out of sight of the land. A
river of the same name flows into the bay, upon which, about
twenty-three miles from its mouth, is a small town. A canal is proposed
from this bay, across the state to lake Michigan, at Grand or Washtenog
river. How shall I convey to you an idea of the loveliness which sat
upon earth, air, and water this afternoon! Certainly that sunset upon
lake Huron is the most beautiful I have ever beheld. The vast and
fathomless lake, bounded by the heavens alone, presented an immense
circle, ‘calm as a molten looking-glass,’--to quote from my favorite
Job--surrounded by a band of fleecy clouds, making a frame work of
chased silver. Slowly and gracefully sank the orb, the white clouds
gently dispersing at his approach, and leaving their monarch a free and
glorious path. As he drew near that chrystal floor, all brilliancy faded
from the face of the lake, save one bright pathway from the sun to
us--like the bridge of Giamschid leading from earth to heaven. The sun
which I had always been accustomed to see above, was now below me, near
the water, on the water, under the water! A veil of purple is thrown
over it, and now the sun sleeps on lake Huron. The gold and rose which
painted the western sky have gone. Darkness has stolen over the world
below, and we turn our eyes above. What a high and noble dome of
loveliest blue! Upon one side there hangs a crescent of the purest
pearly white, while at its side steals forth one silver star, soon
followed, as, saith Ezekiel, by ‘all the bright lights of heaven,’ until
night’s star-embroidered drapery is canopied around us. What bosom is
insensible to this gorgeous firmament? Who hath not felt the ‘sweet
influence of the Pleiades’ while gazing at this starry roof above? I
wish I could make you a piece of poetry upon this subject, but as there
is enough already composed upon the stars, I will send you a bit of
Byron and tell you--

    Blue roll the waters--blue the sky
    Spreads like an ocean hung on high,
    Bespangled with those isles of light,
    So wildly spiritually bright,
    Whoever gazed upon them shining,
    And turned to earth without repining.

Do you remember that little hymn our old nurse used to teach us in our
childhood:

    Twinkle, twinkle, pretty star
    Can’t you tell us what you are,
    Up above the world so high
    Like a diamond in the sky.

Yes, from childhood to manhood, we wish to penetrate into the mysteries
of those golden regions, and ever ask them to tell us ‘what you are.’ We
see them gem the night with their lustrous beauty; we watch them as they
pace their azure courts, and lose ourselves in high imaginings, too vast
for us, while earth still keeps our souls its prisoner. How much deeper
must be the interest with which the astrologer of old followed them in
their ‘golden tracks.’ In them he read his destiny, and thought to see
the scenes of earth reflected in their light. How must he have gazed
upon them, as their rays paled or brightened, while reading in them ‘the
fate of man and empires.’ Man’s efforts to penetrate the mysteries of
these glorious creations have not been all in vain. The Almighty
architect, from time to time, graciously bestows upon him, knowledge of
‘parts of his ways.’ How much more has been vouchsafed to us than to the
early nations. Looking back through the vista of the past, we shall see
great men appear, as ‘stars to rule the night’ of our darkness and tell
us of creation’s mysteries. Solomon, Ptolemy, Gallileo, Copernicus,
Tycho Brahe, Paschal, Newton, Herschel, with a host of satellites, have
been graciously shown the book of knowledge, to light man’s pathway
through the earth, and enlarge his ideas of the magnificence and the
benevolence of his Creator. ‘In the beginning,’ it did not enter into
God’s purpose to tell mankind more of the starry host, than that they
were ‘lights to rule the night,’ and for ‘signs and for seasons;’ now
see what amazing things have been shown to us. We know they are worlds
like our own, filled with mountains and seas; having night and day,
summer and winter. We see their fields, now white with snow, now dark
with returning vegetation. How our hearts bound with hopes of future
knowledge; and imagine the time will come, when we can gaze upon their
landscapes, and ‘listen to the hum of their mighty population.’[16] We
have seen nature in all its power and grandeur, while tossed on Erie’s
waves, or listening to the thunder of Niagara; but here she is at rest
in all her quiet loveliness; and would her worshippers behold her in her
fairest mood, let them come and gaze at evening on lake Huron.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 4th._--The sun and I arose at the same time. When I left my
state-room, as if waiting to greet me, it arose majestically from the
bosom of the water, flooding the lake with light. No land was descried
upon the east, but we were near the Michigan shore off Thunder bay. The
Shanewaging islands which stretch across it were distinctly visible, and
presented various beauties of shape and tint. All trace of man has now
disappeared, for the northern part of Michigan has never been settled
owing to the intense cold of the winters. We have passed a long line of
coast without any inhabitant (except a forlorn woodman’s hut in one
spot) stretching for two hundred and fifty miles, covered with boundless
forests, in whose green recesses there are paths ‘which no fowl knoweth,
and which the vultures eye hath not seen.’ Here is the home of the bear,
the elk, and the moose-deer--and upon the aspen, oak, and maple trees,
sport the blue bird, the robin, and yellow hammer, undisturbed by the
foot of man. We have now past the bounds of civilization, and our vessel
is the only spot of life in this vast region of forest and water.

From the entrance of Lake Huron to Mackinac, there were but two places
where man was visible. At the mouth of the Zappa river soon after
entering the lake, there is a cabin where a woodman resides in the
summer season to supply the steamboats; and at Presque Isle where we
stopped in the afternoon there is another cluster of cabins, and
woodpiles. Our Captain did not stop at this latter place, as he did not
like their wood, it being chiefly swamp ash. The shore is low, covered
with trees, having below, a beach of yellow sand, until just before
coming in sight of Michilimackinac when the land becomes a little
elevated. Ten miles this side of the last mentioned place, we passed
Boisblanc, a large wooded island, taking its name of ‘_white wood_’ from
the silver barked birch tree. This island belongs to government, and its
only inhabitants, save a few straggling Ottowas are the family of the
light-house keeper whose pretty tenement, and stately light-house,
appear upon a projecting point. There is also a farm upon the island
given by government to the Missionaries of Michilimackinac, who
sometimes maintain a farmer upon it. O Mackinaw, thou lonely island, how
shall I describe thy various beauties! certainly for situation, history,
and native loveliness, it is the most interesting island in our States.
We approach it through an avenue of islands, Drummond and Manitoulin,
dimly seen on our east, and Boisblanc, and Round, in our western side.
Stretching across our path, far away in front of us, is Mackinaw,
painted against the clear blue sky. The island of Michilimackinac, or
Mackinaw, or Mackinac as it is commonly spelt and pronounced, is a high
and bold bluff of limestone about three hundred feet above the water,
covered with verdure. Its name signifies in the Indian tongue great
turtle, as it is something of the figure of this animal. At the foot of
the bluff are strewed the buildings of the town. Among the most
conspicuous of these are, the agency house and gardens, residence of Mr.
Schoolcraft, Indian Agent--and the church and mission house. Along the
beach were several Indian wigwams, while numerous pretty bark canoes
were going and coming, as this is the Indian stopping place. A very
beautiful, and conspicuous object was the United States fort, presenting
at a distance the appearance of a long white line of buildings
inserted, into the top of the island high above the town. As we
approached, its picturesque block-houses and the pretty balconied
residences of the officers, came out to view, having the banner of the
‘stripes and stars’ waving over them. While gazing at this fair picture,
suddenly a brilliant flame, and volumes of white smoke arose above the
fort, while a booming sound told us they were firing their mid-day
salute in honor of the day. This added much to the beauty and grandeur
of the scene. As our boat was to remain there for some hours, we
disembarked and ascended to the fort to visit our friends the commanding
officer and his family. We found them sitting upon their balcony,
looking down upon the newly arrived steamboat. After the first greetings
and mutual enquiries were over, we were shown all it was thought would
interest us.

The view from our friend’s balcony was beautiful in the extreme. The bay
in front, the lovely islands around covered with a luxurious
vegetation--the town spread out at our feet--the Indian lodges, and the
canoes skimming the bright waters, each called forth our expressions of
admiration. Passing into the interior of the fort, and through the fine
parade ground and a large gateway, we found ourselves upon the summit of
the island. Our path lay through copses of white birch, maple, and
various other trees, and over green sward covered with strawberries and
a variety of wild flowers. Our friends kindly gathered for me a variety
of these, among which was a fine scarlet lilium superbum, blue bells,
and kinni kanic, or Indian tobacco, and a pretty plant called Indian
strawberry. Suddenly the silver tones of woman’s voice, sounded near,
and in a fairy dell we came upon a tent, surrounded by a party of ladies
and gentlemen, busily engaged preparing for a fete in honor of the day.
Among them was the daughter of our host, and some of the celebrated
family of S----t. We were presented to the party, and were quite
chagrined our limited time would not permit us to accept their
invitation to remain and partake of their festivities. The grace and
beauty of Mrs. S----t made great impression upon us. To me she was
peculiarly interesting from the fact of her being descended from the
native lords of the forest; for you know I have always taken the
greatest interest in the fate of our Indian tribes. From the accent, the
deep brunette of her smooth skin, and her dark hair and eyes, I should
have taken her for a Spanish lady. From the tent we wound our way up to
a high peak of the island. When near the summit, we left a grove, and
saw before us one of the most picturesque and singular objects
imaginable. It was a high arched rock of white limestone, stretching
across a chasm before us, making a pretty natural bridge, through which
we gazed far down into the waves of Huron, at least two hundred feet
below. The surprise, the beauty and novelty of this striking object,
brought forth expressions of admiration from us. The white arch was
adorned with tufts of wild flowers, and shrubbery. Ascending the arch,
we gazed down upon the white beach below, whose pebbles could be here
distinctly seen under the limpid water although many feet deep--and out
upon the fair waters, and the pretty islands, which

    “----Like rich and various gems inlay
    The unadorned bosom of the deep.”

We were obliged to be satisfied with a hasty view of this charming
scene, as our time was limited; and we turned reluctantly towards our
boat, without visiting the ruins of fort Holmes, upon the high summit of
the island. While passing through the town we observed several antique
houses which had been erected by the French, who first settled this
place in sixteen hundred and seventy three.

These are frail delapidated buildings, covered with roofs of bark. Upon
the beach a party of Indians had just landed, and we stood while they
took down their blanket sail, and hauled their birch bark canoe about
twenty feet long, upon the shore. These are the Menominies or wild rice
eaters, the ugliest Indians I had ever seen--also Winebagoes, with dark
skin, low foreheads and shaggy hair, and having no pretentions to dress.
I saw a chief however afterwards who was gaily bedizened with tinsel,
beads, and paint, having one side of his face a light pea green, and the
other cheek scarlet. We watched them erect their lodges which was done
very soon--a few poles were placed in a circle, one end of each stood in
the earth, while the others met at the top--coarse matting was folded
around these, leaving an opening for a door, over which a blanket was
hung. Some matting being spread upon the floor inside, the children and
moveables were placed inside, and the canoe drawn up near it. We visited
some of the shops and laid up a store of Indian articles, which are made
by these poor people and sold here. Among them were small baskets called
Mococks, made of birch bark embroidered with porcupine quills, stained
different colors--this was filled with maple sugar. It is pleasant to
meet friends so far from home, but I think the pleasure is almost
counterbalanced by the pain of parting. This we felt keenly, when the
planks had withdrawn, and our friends had been forced to leave us, as we
gazed after them winding their way up to the fort, the shores, and
waters around seemed more desolate, more lonely than before.

Just before the steamboat started we had an opportunity of judging of
the boasted transparency of this water, its depth having prevented this
on our voyage. I looked down into it from the boat, where it was twenty
feet deep, and could scarcely believe there was anything but air between
us and those shining pebbles below. We had also an opportunity of
hearing some Indian music. Upon the shore sat a group of unearthly
beings, one of whom struck several taps upon a sort of drum, accompanied
by the others, in what sounded like a wolf recitative--at the end of
this all united in a yell which dyed away over the lake, much in the
style of a howling blast accompanied by the shrieks of a drowning
traveller. Our fishing party left us here to go up the Sault St. Mary,
into lake Superior, spending their summer days among the picturesque
scenery of that magnificent lake. We bade adieu with much regret to this
pretty island, whose green terraces, fort and picturesque town, Indian
lodges, and light canoes, made a beautiful scene--but the most
interesting point in the view, was that white handkerchief waving
farewell from the fortress balcony.

This island is 615 miles from Buffalo; 319 from Detroit. There are water
marks upon the rocks 200 feet above the lake, proving the water had
once stood so high. The scenery here has been prettily described by an
author of talent, Mrs. Jameson; but, as much pleased as I was with her
book, I must regret she came here under such circumstances. It is with
reluctance I censure one so gifted, but it is with a view of warning
you, and my young friends to whom I know you will show my letters,
against errors to which the very witchery of her genius would blind you.
However passionate a desire you may entertain for the picturesque, I
hope you may never leave the protection of your friends and wander in
search of it alone. May your curiosity to see great men never lead you
to invade the retreat of a world hating bachelor; and may you never
stray in wild forests, through storms and tempests, with no companion
save a rude Indian, or a ‘bronzed, brawney, unshaven, back-woodsman,’
‘very much like a bear upon his hind legs,’ and you ‘a poor, lonely,
shivering woman.’ I quote her words. You had better be a ‘tarry at home
traveller,’ or write ‘voyages around my own room.’ If you do thus, you
must expect the ladies where you visit will look ‘formal and alarmed,’
as she tells us the ladies of Toronto looked upon her. But now I have
done scolding and will pursue my journey. Upon a green slope of the
Michigan shore, a pile of ruins were pointed out as the site of old fort
Mackinac, which was taken by Pontiac with a stratagem and afterwards
every one within were massacred. How must those unfortunates have felt,
upon this desolate shore, hundreds of miles away from their country, and
at the mercy of savages. A band of Chippewa’s or Ojibwa’s were just
passing in canoes thirty feet in length. This tribe stands higher in
rank than the others, and their language, like the French, is the
polite tongue among the Indian tribes. They have a ruler whose office
has been hereditary for ages. He is called Mudjikiwis, and they pride
themselves much upon his and their own rank and lineage. There is an
anecdote, related by Schoolcraft, of one of this tribe, which, if you
have never seen, will amuse you. Chi Waishki, alias the Buffalo, was
presented by the commissioners of the treaty of Fond du Lac, with a
medal as a badge of distinction. ‘What need have I of this?’ he said
haughtily. ‘It is known whence I am descended!’ These canoes are the
prettiest and lightest things imaginable. They are formed of the bark of
the birch tree, sewn together with a thread made from fine roots of
cedar split. The bark is soaked to make it more pliable. Sometimes they
are very gaily painted and ornamented. The paddles are of light wood.
Our Captain placed before us at dinner a very fine lake trout, which he
had purchased at Mackinaw. It was two feet long, and very delicious.
Fine salmon are also taken in these lakes. We were now upon the great
lake Michigan, which stretches from here three hundred and twenty miles,
to the Illinois shore, and is nine hundred feet deep. Our course lay
near the Michigan shore, which presented high bluffs and points of
limestone, with banks of pebbles, and high jagged hills, or _dunes_ of
sand. These pebbles and sand are said to be thrown up by the
north-western winds, but I should rather imagine them left up by the
floods which have swept over the land. Upon our right were Fox and
Beaver isles, beyond which, Green bay runs into Wisconsin, one hundred
and three miles. This northern shore of Michigan is uninhabited, and
covered with dense forests. The ledges and masses of white limestone
upon some of these islands looked like fortresses or other buildings.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 5th._--Sunday upon the lake. When I left my cabin, I found the
morning was misty, and the sun looking like the yolk of an egg, was
bobbing up and down upon the water. It had just peeped above the waves,
which, dashing about, sometimes obscured it from our view. We were lying
at one of the Manitou islands, taking in wood. This is a pretty crescent
shape islet, covered with trees. In the centre we were told is a lake
which is unfathomable, and supposed to be connected with lake Michigan.
It is filled with the large trout, salmon and white fish of the lakes.
There is a woodman’s hut, and several large piles of wood upon the
shore. ‘Oh that the woodman would spare those trees.’ Soon the pretty
island will be denuded and forlorn. It is a sacred island--the Indians
imagining it to be the residence of their Manitou, never dare to land
there, as they believe such an intrusion would be followed by the anger
of their Deity. One Indian, who despised such superstition ventured upon
the shore, and was never heard of since. The forests and lake in the
interior, they imagine is the abode of the blessed after death, whose
hours will there pass in hunting and fishing. The Manitoulin islands in
lake Huron, are also sacred; but they are much larger than these, one of
them being fifty-five miles in length. I secured a handful of pebbles
from the shore, which, like those of other lakes, are agate, chalcedony
and other sileceous minerals. Upon the shores of lake Superior these
are found very fine, mixed with trachte, lava, and other volcanic rocks,
and with masses of native copper. I had brought with me a package of
well selected tracks, which I opened this morning, and laid a few upon
the table of the ladies saloon. Soon after, a pretty little girl knocked
at my state-room door, saying her mother wished to know if I had any
more tracts, as she should like to read one. I asked her where were
those I laid upon the table? those, she replied, some ladies were
reading. I gave her several. The chambermaid next appeared begging for
some; and then the cabin boy came with the same request. While I was
selecting one which I thought might suit him, I observed a brawny dusky
figure, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his person begrimed with
soot and smoke, gazing earnestly towards us. ‘That’s Tom, one of the
fire-men,’ said the cabin boy with a snigger; ‘he heard you had books to
lend and wants one dreadfully.’ I beckoned to him, and he came forward
with alacrity, while behind him I discerned several other ‘grim visaged’
beings peeping out from their compartment towards us. I gave him a
package to distribute among his fellows; and during the day had the
pleasure of observing the greater part of the crew and passengers busily
engaged with my books. During our long voyage, those who had books had
read them out, and those who had none, were getting very weary, so that
they eagerly received any thing in the shape of reading. But some of
them, I trust, read them for the sake of the benefit they hoped to
receive from their contents. It was a source of great satisfaction to
behold so many persons engaged in themes of high import to their soul’s
best interest. These seeds were sown with a prayer for their success;
and who can tell what immortal plants may spring up in some of their
hearts, growing to a tree of life, and bearing fruit to flourish in the
garden of paradise. Let me urge you never to travel without these, or
other useful books to distribute on your way--like the girl in the fairy
tale of our youth, shedding gems and treasures in your path. There is no
library in this boat as upon our Hudson and Eastern steamboats, and we
were often amused with the alacrity with which our books were snatched
up when we laid them down for a strole, or to look at some object upon
the shores. When we returned we were always sure to receive them again,
and felt no vexation, as we knew they meant no impoliteness, and would
be willing to lend us their own in return. My companion had never been
used to such _socialisms_ in his country, and was quite amused at this
free and easy sort of thing. Our books were some of them French, and
upon one occasion we found them in the hands of a simple hearted son of
the forest, to whom books were so rare a treasure he could not resist
examining them. He returned it with a smile, and said, shaking his head,
‘how you can make any sense out of that I can’t see, for I cannot read a
word of it.’

We lost sight of the Michigan shore at ten o’clock, and stretched across
the lake towards the Wisconsin coast, which we first saw at four o’clock
P. M., thus being nearly all day out of the sight of land. This may give
you an idea of the vastness of these lakes. Wisconsin, or Ouisconsin, or
Wiskonsan, here presents a high bank, called ‘red banks,’ from the
color of the soil, covered with forests, and showing no trace of man,
except at the mouth of the river Sheboygan, two hundred and twenty miles
from Mackinaw, where is a small settlement called by the name of the
river.

Fifty miles from Sheboygan we stopped at the town of Milwaukie, towards
which the tide of emigration has been rapidly flowing. As the bay is
crossed by a bar, our large boat could not enter, and a small steamboat
took from us much of our merchandise and most of our emigrants. We did
not go on shore, but contented ourselves with seeing the town from the
boat. It looked neat, with some comfortable dwellings, several shops,
hotel, court house, &c. It stands upon the Milwaukie river. Its
population is 1,000. Several rail-roads and canals are in contemplation
from this place across the territory, as rail-roads to Winnebago lake;
from Belmont to Dubuque; from Belmont to Dodgeville in the mine
district; a canal from Milwaukie to the Black river, and another through
the Fox and Wisconsin to the Mississippi. Wisconsin will be soon covered
with a dense population, as it is now a favorite point for emigration.
The soil is very rich, from one to ten feet deep, the surface undulating
prairie and woodland, consisting of 100,000 square miles of fertile
land. The grassy plains make fine pasture lands, and the lakes and
rivers produce abundance of fish, and give great manufacturing power.
Lakes Superior and Michigan, and the river Mississippi surround three
sides, thus enabling them to send their produce to market. Flour, rye,
corn, barley, white-fish, and many other articles have been exported
this year. Their lead mines are very rich, and their valuable forests of
pine trees will be another source of wealth. These growing to the
height of one hundred and eighty or two hundred feet, crown the heights
of the northern region of the country, which is mountainous, containing
several waterfalls, one of which is two hundred and fifty feet in
height. The scenery is very picturesque. Madison, the capital, is a
pretty, thriving town, surrounded by four transparent lakes, upon the
shore of one of which it is situated; it sometimes goes by the poetical
appellation of ‘city of the four lakes.’ When the roads and canals are
formed, Wisconsin will soon become a thoroughfare to the Mississippi and
the vast regions beyond; and those who have ‘the world before them,’
cannot make a better choice than this. Here we left our Buffalo hunters.
Racine is a town twenty-two miles below Milwaukie. The houses looked
new, and were arranged in rows upon the high green bank. The court-house
was quite showy, having a portico in front, with pillars reaching to the
roof, which was painted red, surmounted by a tin cupola. It stands at
the mouth of Root river. We were now again in sight of Michigan, as the
lake grows narrower towards the end. We have passed completely around
this state, it being in the shape of a triangle. It is destined to be a
great and flourishing State, surrounded as it is by the lakes, crossed
by rivers, canals, and railroads, and covered by a rich soil. It is two
hundred and eighty miles long by one hundred and eighty, and covers
40,000 square miles. It has only been admitted into the Union as a State
in 1837, and now possesses a population of 211,705. The country is
level, except a table land in the center from which the rivers flow into
lakes St. Clair, Huron, and Michigan. The remainder is covered with
grassy prairie land, with transparent lakes, and tracts of woodland.
Here grows the valuable maple from which they obtain their sugar; the
white birch, whose bark is used for making canoes, roofing houses, or
even when split fine, in writing letters by the early settlers; the oak,
the beech, the hickory, sassafras, and various other valuable trees. Its
energetic inhabitants are busily engaged laying out canals and
rail-roads to intersect it in every direction, as means of conveying
their produce to its market. One hundred and thirty-one miles of
rail-road has been contracted for, but only forty-four miles finished,
from Detroit to Ann Arbor. Over this 41,896 barrels of flour were
conveyed this year to Detroit. Three years since the inhabitants of this
state sent to Ohio for their flour, and now they export 125,000 barrels
of flour this year. Education is not neglected; the legislature have
appropriated 1,200,000 acres of land as a school fund, which, as the
land is rapidly rising, will be of great value. The celebrated
Schoolcraft tells us, it was deemed so inaccessible from swamps, that in
1818, it was not thought fit for the soldiers bounty lands. This was,
however, soon discovered to be a mistake. He further informs us, the
soil is an argillaceous soil, mellowed with sands and pebbles, underlaid
with schistose and calcareous rocks, clothed with an open growth of oaks
and hickories, the ridges covered with walnut, ash, beech, and maple,
while the valleys are first rate corn land, diversified with limpid
lakes, grassy prairies and pebbly bottomed brooks.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 6th._--When approaching Chicago, the ‘haven where we would be,’ I
did not so much watch for the appearance of that famed town, as look
back with regret at the beautiful lake I was leaving, for I was well
assured ‘I ne’er should look upon its like again.’ Two days and two
nights I had been sailing over it, never tired of gazing at its varied
shores, or beauteous waters. Those who have never beheld these masses of
pellucid, brilliant, green waters, can never imagine the extraordinary
loveliness of the scene. They cover a surface of 150,000 square miles,
and contain nearly half the fresh water upon the surface of the globe.
That the water is fresh, is of great importance to those who dwell upon
their shores, as it can be of more use for household purposes, and
machinery. The valley in which the lakes repose, is said to have been
hewed out by the deluge, leaving the deep chasms in which the waters
lie; this is called the valley of the St. Lawrence, and very properly;
but I must object to this immense chain of lakes, four and five hundred
miles long, and nine hundred deep, being called the ‘river St.
Lawrence,’ as some fashionable tourists have of late. The St. Lawrence
river is an outlet, but is no more entitled to this designation, than is
Niagara or St. Clair river. These lakes all lie in a valley which
interposes between the primitive and secondary formations. The northern
shores are granite rocks, sterile, and scarcely inhabited; while the
southern is rich alluvion, covering sandstone and limestone.

The bustle of arrival aroused me from these reflections, and we were
soon seated in the parlor of the Lake Hotel, in the famous state of
Illinois, and town of Chicago. The rapid growth of this place you have
heard of: in 1833 it could only count three frame dwellings and two
hundred and fifty inhabitants; and now enumerates six churches, one
hundred shops, several hotels, dwelling houses, and ware-houses, and
between six and seven thousand inhabitants. Chicago, or Tshicawgo, as
the inhabitants and Indians call it, is divided by a river of the same
name into two parts, between which is a free ferry and a bridge. The
shops are upon one side, and the dwellings upon the other. These last
are in the style of country residences, enclosed with white palings,
surrounded by piazzas and gardens; some of brick, but many of wood and
neatly painted. Every thing looks quite new, as indeed it might; for
where now the town stands, was, as late as 1833, a fort, before which
was encamped seven thousand Indians. Fort Dearborn was erected for the
purpose of protecting the frontier. It was attacked in 1812 by the
Indian tribes, and their allies, and those who escaped massacre, sought
protection in fort Wayne. Another fort was built in 1818, but is now
deserted and let out for tenements. There are houses of worship here for
several denominations; among them the Presbyterian church is most
conspicuous. It is of brick and neatly finished. Part of the money
required for its erection, was acquired by the ladies in a Fair. The
Lake House is a very good hotel, situated among the dwelling houses. It
is built of brick, painted white, which, with its green blinds, gives it
a pleasant appearance; every thing within was comfortable and good of
its kind. According to our usual practice, we ascended to the cupola of
the hotel, where is a lovely view of the cottages and gardens at our
feet, the broad prairies beyond, and the bright waters of Michigan
behind us. This town is beautifully situated upon the borders of the
lake, through which it holds constant communication with Buffalo and the
east. The other route I mentioned, from Detroit continues over the
rail-road at that city, and by cross roads to St. Joseph’s upon the
lake, from which place steamboats are continually plying to Chicago. It
is a shorter road, and gives the traveller a view of the interior of
Michigan. The Illinois and Michigan canal commences here, which is to be
carried to Peru on the Illinois river, a distance of one hundred miles,
thus opening a communication with the Mississippi and the Gulf of
Mexico. It is six feet deep and sixty feet wide, and is nearly finished.
The climate here is variable. In the summer the wind will one day blow
over the surface of the prairies, and the weather will become very hot;
but the next day, perhaps, it will come from the lake and cool it again.
In consequence of the vicinity of the lake there is not much snow, and
it is not very cold.

We spent here one day only, but were able to see every thing in and
about the town, and in conversation with those friends residing here,
obtained every information. We intended making a longer stay, but
learned that the regular line of stages left town that evening, which
obliged us to go on or to stay longer than our time would admit. Before
reaching here, it was our intention to go to Michigan City, which is in
Indiana, upon the shores of the lake, and from thence cross Indiana to
Madison, upon the Ohio, through a fine succession of rail and
Macadamized roads. Our friends here, however, seemed to think it so
monstrous a thing to return without beholding the celebrated
Mississippi, when within a few hundred miles only, that we determined
to alter our course and go down the Illinois river.

At nine o’clock at night we entered a commodious stage drawn by four
good horses, which was to take us to Peoria, upon the Illinois, one
hundred and fifty-seven miles distant, for which we were to pay
twenty-two dollars, eleven each, bed and board included. Beside us were
two other passengers. Crossing the bridge, we took up the mail at the
post office, and then drove through a long range of cheerfully lighted
shops until we found ourselves out of town. Here the road crossed the
_wet prairie_, as it is called, which, in some seasons, when the lake is
high, is overflown. Through this wet land we went splash, splash, nearly
half the night. A rail-road is proposed here, which will render
travelling more pleasant. Hour after hour passed away, my companions all
dozing while I sought sleep in vain. The vast plain over which we were
moving, seen through the dusk of a cloudy night, seemed a fitting place
for dark deeds--a fine Hounslow heath, or Indian lurking place. But
there are no bandits here, and the Indians were all over the
Mississippi, and I was bidding such idle fears avaunt, when suddenly a
low plaintive wail sounded over the waste, startling my companions from
their slumbers. ‘What was that unearthly cry?’ I asked. ‘Only a prairie
wolf madam.’ ‘Dear me!’ exclaimed the other passenger, a youth. ‘I hope
there are not many of them, for sometimes wolves attack horses.’ ‘Not in
these prairies, sir,’ replied the other passenger, ‘they are rather shy,
and afraid of us.’ ‘I am glad, at least, to see a light,’ returned the
youth, ‘there must be a house yonder.’ ‘Yes, a bower in the rushes,
nothing else,’ replied the other man. ‘If you follow that light it will
lead you a pretty chase through the marshes; it is a jack-o’lantern.’
The hour, seen by the light of the coach lamp, proved to be twelve, and
each settled in his corner for another doze. A sudden halt of the stage
awakened us. The coachman took down a lamp and began to search for
something on the ground. ‘Halo, driver, what have you lost?’ asked the
youth. ‘Only my road sir,’ he replied. ‘Lost your road!’ exclaimed the
youth in dismay; ‘Lost in these lonely moors among wolverines and
jack-o’lanterns! Here’s a pretty fix!’ ‘Driver you ought to keep the
skin off your eyes in such a dark night, I guess,’ said the other
passenger. I only wondered he could ever keep his road, as there was no
house or tree to mark his course even in the day, and one might easily
pass over the worn pathway in these grassy plains. The driver soon
resumed his seat, having discovered his path; and gave us the agreeable
intelligence, he had gone three miles out of his way. A few hours after
this, a huge body suddenly appeared before the window--it turned out to
be a tree, a sign we were approaching a river. Soon after we found
ourselves before the door of a small house, upon the banks of a narrow
but deep and placid stream fringed with trees. This was the Des Plaines,
a river which rises so near lake Michigan, that in times of its
overflow, boats have passed from one to another. This interlocking of
waters which flow different ways, Darby considers ‘an astonishing
hydrographical anomaly.’ All the waters we had passed, have fallen into
the Atlantic, while those we were now following find their way into the
gulf of Mexico. The Des Plaines is called a branch of the Illinois,
which joins with the Kankakee, and afterwards the Fox, and the united
streams take the name of the Illinois. Many modern writers consider this
as the Illinois, and drop the name of Des Plaines, which I should judge
a proper arrangement. We awakened the drowsy owner of the house,
procured some refreshment, and with fresh horses resumed our journey.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 7th._--I fell asleep, and when I was awakened at dawn this
morning, by my companion, that I might not lose the scene, I started
with surprise and delight. I was in the midst of a prairie! A world of
grass and flowers stretched around me, rising and falling in gentle
undulations, as if an enchanter had struck the ocean swell, and it was
at rest forever. Acres of wild flowers of every hue glowed around me,
and the sun arising from the earth where it touched the horizon, was
‘kissing with golden face the meadows green.’ What a new and wonderous
world of beauty! What a magnificent sight! Those glorious ranks of
flowers! Oh that you could have ‘one glance at their array!’ How shall I
convey to you an idea of a prairie. I despair, for never yet hath pen
brought the scene before my mind. Imagine yourself in the centre of an
immense circle of velvet herbage, the sky for its boundary upon every
side; the whole clothed with a radiant efflorescence of every brilliant
hue. We rode thus through a perfect wilderness of sweets, sending forth
perfume, and animated with myriads of glittering birds and
butterflies:--

    “A populous solitude of bees and birds,
    And fairy formed, and many colored things.”

It was, in fact, a vast garden, over whose perfumed paths, covered with
soil as hard as gravel, our carriage rolled through the whole of that
summer day. You will scarcely credit the profusion of flowers upon these
prairies. We passed whole acres of blossoms all bearing one hue, as
purple, perhaps, or masses of yellow or rose; and then again a carpet of
every color intermixed, or narrow bands, as if a rainbow had fallen upon
the verdant slopes. When the sun flooded this Mosaic floor with light,
and the summer breeze stirred among their leaves, the irredescent glow
was beautiful and wonderous beyond any thing I had ever conceived. I
think this must have been the place where Armida planted her garden, for
she surely could not have chosen a fairer spot. Here are

    ‘Gorgeous flowrets in the sun light shining,
      Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day;
    Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining
      Buds that open only to decay.’

The gentle undulating surface of these prairies, prevent sameness, and
add variety to its lights and shades. Occasionally, when a swell is
rather higher than the rest, it gives you an extended view over the
country, and you may mark a dark green waving line of trees near the
distant horizon, which are shading some gentle stream from the sun’s
absorbing rays, and thus, ‘Betraying the secret of their silent course.’
Oak openings also occur, green groves, arranged with the regularity of
art, making shady alleys, for the heated traveller. What a tender
benevolent Father have we, to form for us so bright a world! How filled
with glory and beauty must that mind have been, who conceived so much
loveliness! If for his erring children he has created so fair a dwelling
place, how well adorned with every goodly show, must be the celestial
home reserved for his obedient people. Eye hath not seen it--ear hath
not heard it--nor can it enter into our hearts to conceive it.

    Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,
      God hath written in those stars above--
    But not less in the bright flowrets under us,
      Stands the revelation of his love.

I observe in all fashionable tours, what is eaten and drank seems to be
matter of immense importance, and perhaps you will be disappointed if I
do not touch upon themes of such high import. We had been warned our
fare upon these ‘lonesome prairies’ would be poor, and of course we did
not expect the tables of a New York hotel. The scarcity of stone, and of
wood--as there are no pine and cedar except in the northern parts of
Wisconsin--forbids much elegance in the few houses scattered along the
road, and the first post house at which we stopped for breakfast was a
rude log cabin. Our detention during the night had prevented our
arriving at the usual breakfast hour, and it was supposed we had taken
our meal elsewhere, and of course we were obliged to wait. ‘Breakfast!
Breakfast!’ was the cry of driver and passengers, as we alighted. ‘Aye,
aye!’ returned the landlord--‘I will scare you up as good a feed as you
could find in Chicago.’ The room we entered was plainly furnished, but I
remarked a pile of books upon a bureau, among which were the life of
Gen. Harrison--Rollins Ancient History--Vicar of Wakefield, and several
religious works. I regretted I could only place a few tracts among them.
When I travel again in such lonely parts, I will endeavor to find a
corner in my trunks for a few good books to leave among this reading
people. The mistress and her daughter were very busy scaring up our
breakfast, of which, I should think the chickens were the most scared.
They soon placed upon the table cloth, some fine smoking potatoes from
their garden--nice indian meal cakes, eggs, milk, cheese, cucumbers,
butter, bread, and ‘chicken fixens.’ Every thing, being native produce,
was very nice, but the coffee being a foreign article, was not as good
as I have seen before, I must confess. The landlady’s method of
preparing it was so novel, that I will write off the recipe for your
edification. I had retreated to the kitchen fire, as I _slept rather
cold_ last night, it being misty, and there observed her process. She
placed some coffee grains in an iron pot, which, being _scared_ about a
little until somewhat brownish, were laid upon the kitchen table, and
pounded with a rolling pin. Boiling water being poured upon it, the
coffee was dished up. Every one drank it contentedly, and I, being
thirsty drank it also. The driver who sat next to me, having lived much
in Chicago and other refined places rather turned up his nose, saying it
was not half as good as he got at the Lake House. My companion contented
himself with milk. While waiting at the door for the stage, our hosts’,
son galloped up, dismounted and tied his horse to the fence. The animal
looked as untamed as if just caught, his wild bright eyes flashed from
beneath his shaggy uncut mane, and he pawed the ground, snorted and
struggled, as if determined to break away and scour the free plains
again. ‘Your horse loves not restraint,’ said I, ‘he wishes to be free.’
‘Aye, aye! the critter snuffs a wolf and wants to be after him.’ ‘A
wolf!’ ‘Yes--he is my wolf hunter, and dearly does he love a chase
after them. When he sees them, nothing can stop him from chasing
them--but they give him a pretty tough run sometimes. I have seen him
follow one for a mile ere he overtook him, and then, with one stroke of
his foot, the wolf is dead.’ I am sure the horse understood his
master--his eye was fixed upon us while he spoke, and when he ended,
tost his mane with a triumphant expression and stamped fiercely upon the
ground, as if his enemy were beneath his foot.

‘All aboard!’ cries the driver, and we were again upon our course, our
horses prancing gaily as if refreshed by their breakfast. A tree
appeared against the horizon, looking exactly like a sail in the
distance--others followed it, and soon beautiful groups of forest trees
were sprinkled over the prairie in front. This was a token of the
vicinity of water, and in a short time we found ourselves upon an
elevated bank from which we looked down upon a verdant valley through
the centre of which, ran a silver stream. This was the valley of the Des
Plaines--having every appearance of being the bed of a broad and deep
river. Many geologists, among them, Prof. Sheppard, thinks this and the
valley of the Illinois, have been scooped out, by a vast torrent pouring
from lake Michigan. Upon the opposite shore of the river and in this
vale, at the foot of the ancient bank, stands the pretty town of Joliet,
improperly spelt Juliet. The whole scene, was one of great beauty. We
descended the bank, which is nearly one hundred feet high, and is
composed of yellow water-worn pebbles. Winding down the road, upon the
high bank opposite, was a long train of covered waggons, filled with a
household upon its way to ‘a new home’ upon the prairies. After fording
the stream, now rendered shallow by the summer heats, passing over the
green sward we found ourselves before the door of the principal hotel in
the town. Joliet takes its name from the old French traveller, father
Joliet, who came here as a missionary in 1673, and stands at the mouth
of a little stream of the same name. This is growing into a place of
some importance, as the Michigan canal crosses the river here, and all
travellers to the Illinois pass through it. It has a fine water power,
for the descent of this river to the rapids at Ottowa, is great--the
lockage of the canal being 142 feet. The population is over 600. There
is here a court house, houses of worship, mills, taverns, and several
shops. We remained here only long enough to change horses. While
standing upon the steps, the covered waggons arrived, from which, looked
forth men, women, children, dogs and cats, while pots, and kettles, and
chairs, were dangling below. A group of sturdy looking men stood around
the door. After our American fashion of asking questions, I addressed
one of them who stood near me, and asked from what country he had
travelled. ‘From St. Thomas, in Canada ma’am,’ he replied. ‘We are sixty
families,’ said another, ‘and have left there because we want more
freedom. We would live where we can say what we choose, and do what we
choose. There our tongues are fettered!’ I learnt they were going to
Rock river, a very fashionable place of emigration now. This is a
beautiful stream, running through the north west part of Illinois into
the Mississippi. The land is prairie upon its borders, which will well
repay the agriculturist’s labors, while its rapids place a great amount
of manufacturing power at the disposal of the settlers. The lead region
is also in its vicinity. At the mouth of Rock river, in the Mississippi,
is a pretty island of limestone, three miles long, which is occupied by
fort Armstrong, garrisoned by United States troops. Dixonville on this
river is a growing town. This I learned from my emigrants, and
afterwards saw confirmed in a Gazetteer. So you see what a nice plan it
is while travelling to extract information from all you meet. I am never
bashful at asking. I bade adieu to the emigrants, hoping they would have
their full of chat from which it seems they were debarred, and let the
prairies ‘prate of their whereabouts.’ We re-crossed the river where we
found the newer part of Joliet built in a solid manner, of the yellow
limestone which is quarried here. The sides of the canal, and viaduct
were also formed of this pretty stone, which gives quite a gay look to
the place. It is said by Professor Shephard to be magnesian limestone,
which occurs also at Chicago, abounding in orthrocera, turbo,
terebratula, caryophillia, &c., and extends he thinks through the lakes.
It is taken out here in stratified layers; and at Chicago, where it has
a slaty structure, it is used for flagging. A few miles from Joliet, we
passed an object, to me of the greatest interest--it was an Indian
mound. This was a perfect gem--as regular, as smooth, and as green as if
cut out of an emerald--being an oblong of fifty rods high, and seventy
or eighty long. Although centuries have passed since it was formed, it
is as perfect in shape, as if just moulded. A beautiful, solitary thing
it is, telling of nations and events now lost in the mists of time. We
saw afterwards, several others, bearing upon their summits ancient oaks,
plain indication of their great antiquity. Flowers again in untold
numbers, were covering the prairies, and here are many of our garden
flowers growing wild, as blue bells, flox, bouncing bet, sweet william,
roses, cocoris, beliotrope, astre, &c., beside wild flowers as fringed
gentean, solidago, orchis, yellow golden rod, scarlet lilly, wild
indigo, superb pink moccasin flower, and scarlet lobelia. There were
many I had never seen--among them was a species of teazle, having a tall
stem, purple head, surrounded by a fringe of long pink leaves--I called
it the Indian fairy, for as its dark head bobbed about, and its pink
mantle flowed around it, it looked like a tiny Indian. In fact, flowers

            ‘rich as morning sunrise hue,
    And gorgeous as the gemmed midnight,’

were smiling and blooming in every direction. What a nice place for some
hortuculturist to transport himself and cottage. Rural Howett would
enjoy the scene--and Miller who loves to ‘babble o’ green fields’ and
flowers, would find fitting subject here for his blossoming pen.

I welcome every flower I see with tender pleasure as if the gift of a
friend--for I know they were planted among us to add to our enjoyment.
Their culture has soothed many a mourning heart, and their blossoming is
as eagerly looked for in the spring, as if their own loved one was
returning from the earth. There is nothing that can so soon transport us
to scenes and friends long gone, and awaken buried memories of former
joy as these brilliant creations. Earth would look dim without them--the
bride would want a grace--the bier would seem more gloomy--while the
sculptor, the artist, and the embroiderer, would lose their prettiest
model of adornment.

A line of trees proclaimed a river near, and we soon dashed through the
Au Sable, the horses dancing with joy, as the clear cool waters curled
about their feet. The sight of a house upon the opposite bank, seemed
quite a novelty, as we had not seen one since leaving Joliet, at nine
o’clock, and it was now one. The house was of boards painted white, and
a hanging sign proclaimed it one of entertainment. Here we dined and
changed horses. The meats were very good, the pies and custards
tolerable, but the vegetables were the finest we had ever tasted. Peas,
beans, potatoes all were very excellent. Every thing we saw was from the
landlords farm, which extended over the prairie some distance from his
house. He and his men, came in from the corn fields when the conch,
sounded for dinner, and without their coats--their shirt sleeves rolled
up, they placed themselves beside us--one does not dress for dinner upon
the prairies. While travelling in unsettled countries one must leave all
one’s nicities at home. It took us some little time to shut our eyes
against soiled table covers, iron knives and forks, &c.,--but once
resolved to overlook it, we succeeded, and ceased to notice it. When we
consider what a life these early settlers have led, we should only
wonder things are as decent as they are. The man comes out here in his
youth, with an axe, upon his shoulder--hews him a space in the forest
and erects a log hut--here upon the floor, spread with the skin of a
beast perhaps, he sleeps, his only companions, his dog, or an Indian--he
gradually acquires furniture of his own making, and when he came to
eating from a table instead of a stone or a stump, he thinks himself
very comfortable. A table cloth is such a luxury that he scarcely
remarks when it gets soiled, as even then it is cleaner than his log
table, and knives of the coarsest description are treasures to him. Our
landlord spoke of his prairie land with the greatest enthusiasm. The
ground is very hard to break, generally requiring several yoke of oxen,
while beneath that the mould is several feet in thickness without
stones, requiring no manuring and apparently inexhaustible. Some of the
old settlements, where farms had been worked for twelve years, it was
still as fertile as ever--giving the tiller very little trouble, and
yielding rich crops. The oasis, or ‘oak openings,’ upon the prairies are
very beautiful. We passed through one this morning. It presented the
appearance of a lawn, or park around some gentleman’s seat. The trees
are generally oak, arranged in pretty clumps or clusters upon the smooth
grass--or in long avenues, as if planted thus by man. From their limbs
hang pretty vines, as the pea vine--lonicera flava, honey-suckle--and
white convolvulus. While our carriage wound among these clumps, or
through the avenues, it was almost impossible to dispel the illusion
that we were not driving through the domain of some rich proprietor, and
we almost expected to draw up before the door of some lordly mansion.
Our afternoon drive from the Au Sable to Ottowa was through a treeless
prairie, looking very much like a vast lake or ocean. So much is this
appearance acknowledged by the country people that they call the stage
coach, a prairie schooner. When the sun shines brightly over the
landscape, its yellow light gives the prairie an azure hue, so that one
can scarcely see where the earth ends, and the sky begins. The
undulations are a very singular feature in the landscape. This is best
seen at early morning or sunset light--the summit of every little swell
is illumined, while the hollow between lies in shadow, thus making the
ground a curious chequer work. We saw many prairie hens, or species of
grouse this afternoon, but no wolves or deer, much to my regret. The
road is so much travelled that they avoid it and retire to more
sequestered places. Birds innumerable, were sporting in the sun’s light
among the flowers, and butterflies clad like Miltons angels, in ‘purple
beams, and azure wings, that up they fly so drest.’

And now you ask, to what is the prairie land owing; fire or water? Many
are the theories upon this subject. The Indian name for prairie, is
scutay, (fire;) and they are in the custom of burning off the grass
every fall. Some will tell you, to this must be traced the dearth of
trees. As the mould is so deep--in some places twenty feet, and there
are in it, except in one or two places, no trace of trees or the huge
stumps they leave, this does not seem probable, at least the trees must
have been burnt from ages. Others will tell you it is the sediment of an
ocean which is spread over the land--or in some places large lakes. In
Illinois it is said there was once as large a lake as Michigan, which,
burst its barrier at the grand tower rocks upon the Mississippi. A chain
of lakes it is said have once stood upon the western land which have
left these basins of deep alluvion covered with herbage. These water
theorists, one of whom is Schoolcraft, point to the bowlder’s of
granite and gneiss which are scattered over the country from the
northern ocean to the gulf of Mexico, lost rocks, as they are called, as
traces of this flood. Why not join the two theories? The land has no
doubt been covered with water; this is proved by the ‘lost rocks,’ by
the hard packed soil like the bottom of a lake; by its inky blackness,
when wet, as we see in marshes, and, by the marsh grasses, and water
plants which are seen growing upon it. This land, when dry was occupied
by the Indians, who kindled a fire at the edges of a circle, among the
rushes, which drove the animals in the centre where they were caught.
The roots of the prairie grass is not destroyed by fire, and it
therefore could not so completely eradicate the roots of those enormous
trees which grow upon the western land. There is nothing in a prairie
land to prevent the growth of trees, as wherever the fire is checked
they immediately spring up. The rivers also protect their trees from
fire.

Prairie land occupies two thirds of the State of Illinois; the dearth of
water, and wood, and stone, will prevent them from being settled very
thickly, except in the vicinity of the rivers; so that these beautiful
plains will long remain undisturbed to gratify the traveller’s eye. The
prairies would of course be underlain with coal, as this great mass of
vegetation which has been destroyed by the floods which have stood upon
them, pressed beneath the incumbent strata and exposed to heat,
moisture, and pressure, will produce fermentation, and afterwards
hardened strata; accordingly it is found that coal is universal every
where in the west. Why should we stop at second causes in considering
the origin of prairies; why speak of Indian fires, or rushing floods?
The Almighty mind who hath conceived this admirable globe, and who, with
such infinite taste, hath formed and beautified it, decking it with
flowers and every other delight, has spread out this fair western world
with lakes immense, and stately forests, wondrous cataracts, smiling
prairies, and broad rolling rivers, to decorate the abode of His loved,
although erring sons. He, in his wisdom, foresaw the time would come,
when the exhausted soil, and crumbling institutions, and crowded homes
of the old world, would require a new field for its overgrown
population, and held this world perdu beneath the ocean caves until the
fitting moment. When the hour had come, it arose fresh and blossoming
from the sea, adorned with a goodly variety of mountain, lake, fair
plain, and noble river, to compensate the lonely wanderer for the home
he has been forced to leave. Now is not that a pretty theory? That this
continent was much longer submerged beneath the diluvial flood, and is
indeed a new world, is, I believe, generally conceded by geologists.
There is something delightful to look upon the earth, as we do here, in
its pristine glory and virgin freshness. The waters may have lingered
longer upon the broad valley which lies between the Alleghany and Rocky
mountains, depositing that rich alluvion which lies so deep upon the
land, and when departing, ploughed its way through those great valleys
where now the western rivers flow. It was then, perhaps before the
deluge, the abode of that monstrous saurian race, some sixty feet in
length, whose bones are now dug up in Texas, and must be under the
soil. When their ‘days were fulfilled,’ they were destroyed and sank
beneath the floods to harden in the limestone; and when the land had
become dry, the mastodon arose and stalked over the western plains; for
since he has been discovered buried in the soil of Missouri, with Indian
arrows sticking in his flesh, he is proved not to be antediluvial. When
his career was over, the Indian tribes were admitted into the new born
world; and whatever interest we may take in their fate--however we may
pity them, we must all agree they have misused their gift. Their _talent
was hid_, the fields were untilled, the stores of marbles and metals,
and materials choice and rare, which were placed there that man might
rear him a comfortable habitation, and lordly temples for his God,
remained unknown in their secret deposites. The Indian was doomed to
share the fate of the mammoth: the barrier which concealed this world
from the older part was loosed, and the waves of human population that
rolled over it, has pushed back the Indians, step by step, and thinned
their ranks, and will thin them, until their race also lies under the
soil whose riches they knew not how to use.

It is a singular and interesting thing to stand, as I do now, upon the
confines of the earth, as it were, ‘at the green earth’s end,’ and gaze
back through the vista of time, over Europe, and Africa, and Asia, upon
the nations that have risen and flourished, and become extinct, each in
its turn, like those animal races, whose story is sculptured, geologists
tell us, upon the ribs and arches of the earth beneath us. There we look
upon the decline and fall of nations--here upon their blossoming
spring-time. And it is a curious thing to look on here and see the
machinery of _world making_ at work--to behold the progress of society
going on under your eyes, from its infancy to its maturity. As in a
panorama we behold the wigwam of the savage pass away to give place to a
log hut; that disappears and a goodly farm appears; then a settlement, a
village, a town in succession, until at last, an imposing city filled
with institutions for all arts and sciences; with temples, academies,
and all appliances of society in its state of culture and maturity.
While thus watching nations rising and setting; moved and transported
upon the earth’s surface as the pieces of a chess-board, a guiding hand
is as distinctly visible, as upon the walls of Beltshazzer’s palace. To
the poor Indian the hand-writing again appears: ‘thou art weighed in the
balance and found wanting!’ Beware ye, who have inherited his land, that
the sentence be not written up against you also!

A _ground swell_, rather higher than the rest, placed us upon an
elevation, from whence we looked down upon the enchanting vale of
Ottowa. A verdant plain lay below us, over which two bright rivers were
winding, the Fox and the Des Plaines, which meeting, formed a broad and
noble stream, which runs 220 miles from this spot to the Mississippi.
The Illinois, first takes that name here. The plain was bounded in the
distance by groves of stately trees, and by the bluffs of the Illinois.
In the centre of this fair valley, just where the ‘bright waters meet,’
is the little town of Ottowa. It is youngling, just come out, and
contains only 1,006 inhabitants, but is rapidly increasing. A gentle
descent of about a mile, brought us to the banks of the Fox, beneath the
shadow of the shrubbery which fringed its shores we drove some time
following its windings and gazing at the bright sheen of its waters
glittering through the foliage. We forded it twice while crossing the
valley, and so pure and transparent was the stream, that the pebbles
which lay upon the sandstone floor, could be seen as distinctly as in
the hand. The canal passes here, and the workmen were building a
handsome viaduct, across the stream. The Fox river is here about 100
yards wide, but is low at this season. It rises in Wisconsin, and is
navigable to within fifteen miles of lake Michigan near Milwaukie. Many
parts of its shore are richly wooded. The rapids upon the stream afford
a great amount of water power, serviceable for machinery. A short drive,
after again crossing the Fox, brought us before the door of the
principal hotel, called the Mansion House. The site of Ottowa only
having been laid out in 1830, ten years since, you cannot expect many
details of its fine streets and churches; I leave that for the next
year’s tourist. The buildings principally consist of shops, arranged in
a square, upon one side of which is our hotel, and upon another side, a
large brick court-house is in progress--this being a county town. The
Ottawans are much disappointed that the canal did not terminate at their
town, instead of Peru, fifteen miles lower down the Illinois.
Notwithstanding this, the town must increase, and enjoys considerable
trade, as it is surrounded by a good farming country, prairie and
woodland, with abundance of limestone and sandstone in its vicinity. Its
water power will in time render it another Rochester for the Genessee
farmers, who will soon be raising their grain in the plains around.
Beside this it is the centre of an extensive coal basin, which crops
out in various places in the neighborhood. Chicago now receives supplies
of that article here, which she once obtained from Ohio. When the
Illinois is high, steamboats from St. Louis reach here, but at present
they ascend no higher than Peru. They gave us a very nice supper here,
which we partook in company with the boarders, travellers, and our
driver. This last attacked the ham and broiled chickens right manfully,
declaring he was as hungry as a prairie wolf. Pray do not expect a bill
of fare at every place--suffice every thing was as good as could be
expected--nay better, for who would look for such city dainties as
orange sweetmeats and iced cakes in this young wilderness settlement.
Every thing desirable can be obtained, by the steamboats here, except
good cooking, and style at table--these will come in time, and their
absence affords _variety_ in our wanderings.

A peep at the ‘Ottowa Republican,’ and several neighboring papers,
amused us until the stage horn sounded--we entered our stage--the
leaders were touched, and we bade adieu to Ottowa I fear forever. I
shall not soon forget that lovely purple evening, which threw such a
charm over the scenery as we drove from Ottowa to Peru, a distance of
fifteen miles. Our road lay beside the bright Illinois, upon prairie or
bottom land, which lines each side of the river throughout its whole
length, making a valley from one to five miles broad, skirted with high
limestone and sandstone bluffs. The ground was gay with flowers, and as
the twilight threw its purple haze over the opposite shore, it became
alive with hundreds of brilliant fire flies, larger and more luminous
than any I had ever seen. Many a time have you and I sat in our early
days upon the banks of the Passaic, watching these brilliant creatures
as they starred the black robe of night, but we never beheld them so
large, and dazzling as these western lights. The river was as smooth as
a mirror, upon which was reflected the trees and rocks with perfect
distinctness, but it had a darker hue than those bright waters we had
passed, being tinted with a brownish topaz. I remarked this to my
companion, who attributed its dark shade to the alluvion and black mould
through which it flowed. ‘It cannot be wholesome,’ I said, ‘I should not
like to drink it.’ ‘I guess if you had been on top of that rock three
hundred years ago,’ said an old man who sat opposite me, peering out the
stage at the opposite bluffs, ‘you’d been glad to drink it ever so muddy
or unhealthy.’ I opened my eyes and stared enquiringly at him. ‘That’s
the rock where the Ingins were starved to death,’ he said in answer to
my look. ‘Indeed!’ I exclaimed, ‘Is that _starved rock_?’ Our heads were
out the window, and we looked with much interest upon the scene of that
Indian tragedy. A high cliff of alternate sandstone and limestone
layers, stands out like a turret from the rocky bluffs one hundred and
forty feet above the river--it was spotted with moss, and fringed with
trees, which the sun’s last rays had tinged with gold, and amber, and
rose. ‘Yes, ma’am, that’s the rock,’ continued our fellow traveller.
‘Down to the river they sunk their kettles with bark ropes, in hopes of
getting water, but the cruel Pottawattamies cut the strings, and so they
died.’ And _so they died_! What images of anguish, sorrow, rage and
despair, does that short sentence convey to our minds!

The fate of the unhappy band of Illini, who dwelt in the fair land which
has taken their name, has been related by Schoolcraft and Flint; but as
I think you have not seen their works, I will tell it you. The Illini
were defeated in battle by the Pottowattamies, and retreated to the top
of this rock, which by a narrow ledge joins the land. This spot they
defended some time, but at length their provisions and water failed.
They scorned to surrender, but one by one lay down in dignified
composure, and, like Cæsar, drawing their mantles over them, died in
silence. The last one who had defended the rock at length expired, and
the enemy seeing no one appear, entered the strong-hold to find them all
at rest. Their bones repose there now. The rock is passed, and upon the
prairie at our right we behold the brazen glare of a fire lighting up a
dozen dark figures which are flitting around it. This is an emigrant
bivouac. Some of their wagons taken from their wheels shelter the center
where the men repose; the women and children remain in the other
vehicles. A fire in the midst keeps off the moschetoes, and perhaps a
prairie wolf, thus affording under the mild sky a comfortable place of
repose without the expense of a hotel. The prairie grass forms a soft
bed for the men, and food for the cattle.

‘I reckon the Ottowa folks are pretty considerably nettled,’ said our
old traveller, in a voice which rendered ‘night hideous’ with its
harshness. ‘They thought the canal would end there, and they would git
all the trade.’ ‘The Ottowa folks don’t depend on no canals, I guess,’
replied another passenger, apparently a neighboring farmer, taking up
the cudgels for his favorite town. ‘Ottawa’s a great and increasing
place, which will beat _Chicorgo_ yet. Wait a while and you’ll see rows
of factories and mills upon the Fox, and you’ll see the rapids scooped
out below, so that the steamboats can come up at all times, and then I
wouldn’t give a cent for your Peru. Ottawa folks keep their eyes skinned
I tell you!’ ‘Oh! you prairie chickens crow loud; you are always laying
out for mills to grind the grain what you mean to raise. You’d better
come and open a shop now, or a bank, at Peru; things will rise when old
Tippecanoe comes to the white house.’ ‘Tip me none of your old ginerals,
if you please,’ said his opponent. ‘Van’s the man for me. Give me Van
Buren for President and things will rise enough.’ The gurgling of water,
as we forded the Little Vermillion, drowned the noise of these village
politicians much to my comfort. Soon after we found ourselves in the
midst of a group of Irish shantees, occupied by the canal laborers,
flanked by a row of low wooden tenements, upon the bank of the
moon-illumined Illinois. ‘This, ladies and gentlemen,’ said the farmer,
in a tone of derision, ‘is the grand town of Peru!’ ‘Yes, and bigger
than Ottawa was, when it was as newly settled as Peru,’ answered the
Peruvian disdainfully. As I looked around me, I thought of Tinkerville
and its public square in the forest; but every thing must have a
beginning. The steamboat frontier was waiting to receive us, and we were
soon, with our luggage, translated to her deck. Fatigued as we were we
could not leave the deck for some time, for the _night sun_, as the
Indians call the moon, was shining brightly down upon the smooth surface
of the Illinois, lighting up her forest glades as we passed, and
throwing fantastic shadows over the silver water. However, a night and a
day in a stage coach has beaten all romance out of us, and we at length
retreated to our snug state-room. The mosquitoe nets were drawn over us,
and we soon bid to nature and to you a fair good-night.




LETTER VII.


PEORIA, July 8th.

_My dear E._--We were detained during the night by a heavy fog, and
instead of reaching Peoria at six, found at breakfast we were many miles
this side of it. Breakfast over, I have seated myself upon the guards, a
sort of balcony which runs around the outside of the steamboat, and with
note-book in hand am prepared to give you a faithful picture of all I
see. The river is still and bright, reflecting every little twig and
leaf. There is no villa, or ruins, or lordly mansion to embellish the
scenery, but it is indebted to its wild forests alone for its
loveliness. It flows and bends in a very graceful manner around the soft
green islets, or low points fringed with trees of new and unknown form
and beauty. Frowning above the trees in the back ground are the cliffs,
waterworn as if once the river’s ancient bound. Occasionally our track
lay close to the shore, and we gazed into the forest’s deep recesses;
now a dark jungle is before us, haunt of the wolf and the panther; and
again, a noble grove of witch elms, or long vistas through which the
early morning sun was streaming, or a patch of brilliant smooth sward
surrounded by a circle of trees, the papaw, or the silvery barked white
maple, its bright green leaves turning up their silver lining to the
breeze. Sometimes a little bay appeared between two promontories,
covered with yellow and white water lillies, and the perfumed nymphea
odorata, the home of the swan or the wild fowl. The willow here occurs
frequently, dipping its leaves in the stream; sometimes the shining
willow with its long and slender brilliant leaves. The locust is
frequent; many varieties of oak, the red bud, cotton wood, and many
other trees festooned with vines of every tint and variety.

I wished much to see a prairie wolf, and looked out eagerly among the
forests in vain. Just now a man who was looking to the shore exclaimed
‘There’s a wolf!’ he pointed to the spot, where some dark animal was
cowering under a log. My companion declared it was a pig, and some one
else a dog, whatever it was, it soon run away into the forest. I
declared it should be a wolf, and to please me, it was unanimously voted
a prairie wolf. A deer I looked for in vain; the noise made by our
puffing high pressure engine, being sufficient to scare every animal
away from our path. We passed Hennepin during the night, and this
morning Lacon and Rome, both small places, situated upon those elevated
banks or plateaus, which alternate with the woodlands along the river.
The two first are both in Putman county containing two hundred and
fifty-two square miles, and a population of two thousand one hundred
and thirty-one. The stream which had become narrower, about a quarter
of a mile in width; now swelled out in an expanse two miles broad and
twenty long, called Peoria lake, by the indians Pin-a-ta-wee. It abounds
with fish we were told, as sturgeon, buffalo, perch, pickerel, and cat
fish and the alligator, garr, seven feet long, covered with scales, the
former we had often seen during the morning, spring from the water, and
plunge back again leaving a silvery circle growing wider and wider upon
the polished surface of the river. The water was now unruffled by a
ripple, the shore at our left covered with forests throwing their
shadows over the water while upon a high bank at our right, was the
pretty town of Peoria. It was a very sweet and tranquil picture. This
has ever been a favorite haunt of the Indians and French. In 1779 a
village stood here called La Ville de Maillet, inhabited by French
courier des bois, Indian hunters, and fur traders, a stopping place for
the French upon the lakes and their settlements on the Mississippi.
Subsequently Fort Clarke was erected here for the United States troops,
and now a pretty town with six houses of worship, several acadamies,
market houses, shops, hotels, breweries, mills, and dwellings and a
handsome court-house with pillared portico and tin covered cupola have
arisen upon the bank. The shore is composed of pebbles, about twenty
feet high, extending back one quarter of a mile, where another step of
six or ten feet brings you to a fine prairie, leading to the bluffs. A
row of buildings surmounted the banks principally shops, but among them
we observed several small taverns, as the Napoleon Coffee House, Union
Hotel, and Washington Hall. Upon a brick house farther in town my
companion espied the sign of the Clinton Hotel, which being the house to
which he had been recommended, he accepted the services of the porters
of that establishment, who with those of the other houses had been
soliciting his custom. How to land, was the next consideration, for upon
rivers which have so great a rise and fall, it is difficult to construct
wharves. After grounding, backing fastening a stake in the mud for a
rope, which immediately came out again, we were at last stationary. A
plank was then projected to the shore, down which we were all trundled.
We had now reached the end of our journey, one hundred and seventy miles
from Chicago, and took leave of the Chicago line, being left to our own
devices to wander farther. We found the Clinton hotel a good house, and
charges low, being only one dollar and twenty-five cents a day each. The
host is a very gentlemanly person, and the ladies of the family well
educated and agreeable. We partook of a very good dinner of native
produce, even to the wild raspberry tarts, which appeared at desert. I
like this much more than being fed upon foreign dainties which one can
procure any where. There was a picture in our dining room which was a
complete _sign of the times_; upon it was painted a cider barrel, from
which a man was drawing ‘hard cider,’ bearing the motto, ‘Old Tip’s
claims to the White House cannot be jumped.’ This had been borne as a
banner by the Peoria delegation at the whig convention of Fort Meigs. If
one might judge by what one sees, Gen. Harrison will have the votes of
all the west, as he seems to be very popular as far as we have been.
Upon returning to the parlor we found a centre table containing
annuals, and several excellent volumes of the best authors, bearing the
names of the young ladies of the house. While I looked over these, my
companion took up the Peoria Democrat, and expressed his surprise to see
such a paper in so new a place, and in it such proofs of the trade of
the place. The type and paper were as good as any in our city, and
contained advertisements of goods, drugs, wines, fruits, and other
articles, which makes one wonder how such things could find their way
there. Another column explains this, where are notices of steamboats
which ply between this place and St. Louis, but three or four days
voyage to New Orleans; consequently, one may command any thing here. In
three years the Michigan canal will be finished, which will open a
communication with the Atlantic through the lakes and the New York
canals. Peoria cannot fail of being a place of much business, for
besides the above named advantages, the land around it is rich prairie,
interspersed with wood land, or timber, as they call it here, crossed by
several mill streams. It is but seventy miles from Springfield, the
capitol of Illinois, a large and handsome town, doing a great deal of
business, and situated in the celebrated county of Sangamon.

Over the level country around Peoria good roads are laid out in every
direction. A railroad is in contemplation from hence to the Mississippi
at Warsaw, while another, the Bloomington and Peoria railroad, is soon
to be laid down from this to the Mackinaw river, forty miles. It is on
the high road from the gulf of Mexico to the north, and already
travellers are taking this route to the eastern States. We found here a
young lady and her father who had come from Mobile. They left there in a
steamboat for New Orleans, from thence other steamboats brought them up
the Mississippi to Quincy, from whence they rode in a stage to Peoria.
They were on their way to New York, and had taken this rout from its
novelty. In the afternoon we ramble down to the shores, where I found
some very pretty pieces of agate, jasper, and other pretty pebbles, and
gathered several singular shells and flowers. The shells were
principally large muscle, lined with pearl, some of them beautifully
irredescent. A neat cottage on the bank with its door open looked so
inviting that we ventured to enter and ask for a glass of water. The
woman willingly filled a pitcher from a cool spring near, and invited us
to sit down. She looked ill, and the children around her were thin and
pale. I asked her the cause, and heard a sad story of fever and ague
sickness. They had removed from Pennsylvania, and had all been ill as
soon as they arrived, but had hopes of being after a while acclimated.
The cause of their sickness was as usual, their exposure to the heavy
fogs which arise from this river at night, which strangers should avoid
for a year at least--and probably other imprudence. Her husband was a
carpenter, who had sufficient employment where they had lived, and there
they were well and happy. To my question of the cause of their removal
she answered, ‘Oh, he had heard of the west, where every one is sure to
get rich, and so he came.’ Most of the emigrants we have met with could
give us no better reason for removing hither than this woman. They hear
the west spoken of as a great, rich, and rising country; pull up their
household by the roots, and, ‘westward hold their way.’ I believe no one
but our people can thus readily leave their homes, and the graves of
their fathers to seek a residence in new and untried regions. Among the
emigrants, we were often surprised to see so many from the neighboring
States. Hoffman met a man during his ‘winter in the west,’ who had
removed his household from one end of the State of Michigan to the
other, merely because, the mould was a foot richer at Kalamazoo--his own
being eighteen inches. A man removes from the eastern border to the west
of Pennsylvania. Perhaps he there erects a house and in a few years sees
a good farm around him; another wishing to remove west, offers him a sum
for it, so much larger than his original outlay, that he is tempted to
sell, and emigrate farther west. He with this money purchases a place of
a man in Ohio, who sells in the same way and passes on. In a few years
the Pensylvanian again sells, and again removes, so that there is a
constant stream going step by step to fill up the immense plains and
valleys which here abound. Fashions for emigration prevail; a place
becomes popular; every one is excited by the accounts of this new
_Dorado_, and westward ho! is the cry. Boon’s, Lick in Missouri, Salt
river, Platte river, Oregon, Rock river, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Iowa,
each have had its run, and its partisans. But there is ‘more than meets
the ear,’ in this; fortunately their destinies are not left to the
guidance of their own variable fancies. There is an overruling Power, at
whose command their steps are hither bent. When I see them on their
march; people from every nation, men, women, and little ones, and cattle
winding down the road in their wagons, filling the steamboats, and
crowding the stages, all pressing in large bodies towards the land of
milk and honey, they remind me of the Hebrews plucked up from an
over-grown country, and led with an Almighty hand, to the land of
promise. May these travellers, study the eventful journey of the
Palestine emigrants, and shun those errors by which they were driven
forth from its fair fields. The Hebrews were told, if they would obey
their heavenly leader, ‘the land shall yield her increase, and the trees
of the field shall yield their fruit’--and ‘ye shall eat your bread to
the full and dwell in the land safely,’ and ‘ye shall lie down and none
shall make you afraid’; ‘I will be your God and ye shall be my
people.’[17] What magnificent promises! And how powerful the promiser!
Oh that these people would lay these words to their heart, and consider
well the Hebrew’s fate! They were also promised to be made ‘high above
all nations which He hath made, in praise, in name, and in honor.’[18]
There be those who predict this for our country; let these read the
conditions by which this maybe obtained, and dread curses[19] which
await a failure! We continued our stroll, back of the town across the
prairie, or _steppe_ upon which it is built, to another about twelve or
fifteen feet above it. From thence is a fine plateau which reaches to
the bluffs. As we sat upon this eminence the view was very pretty. The
sun had been long gone, but a delicate amber shaded with purple tinted
every thing. Below us, was the green prairie crossed with dark purple
paths over which the ‘lowing herds’ were winding slowly, as if loth to
leave their free pastures for the confinement of a barn yard. The
cattle raised upon prairie grass are very fat, and the Illinois beef
commands a ready sale in the New Orleans markets. The butter and milk we
met with here was uncommonly rich, equal to our first rate Goshen
butter. Beyond the prairie is the town, beneath which, flows the quiet
Illinois, bounded by dark forests and elevated bluffs. While we were
thus sitting enjoying the ‘coming on of grateful evening mild,’ the deep
silence was broken by the sweet sound of a church bell, echoing over the
river and the still forests. At once these words of Milton so very
appropriate to our situation sprang to our lips;

    “On a plat of rising ground
    I hear the far off Curfew sound,
    Over some wide watered shore,
    Swinging slow with solem roar.”

There was apparently an evening meeting about to be held, and we
rejoiced we should be enabled to enter the courts of the Lord, a
privilege we had been denied for some time. Our path to the town lay
past several very pretty cottage residences, ornamented with shrubbery
and flowers--thence, following the sound of the bell we found ourselves
before a small meeting house. It happened fortunately to be the meeting
which enjoyed the administration of the Rev. Mr. S----g, of the
presbyterian persuasion, whom we found to be a very pleasing,
intelligent, and pious man. We were very much gratified with his
discourse, which we found very appropriate. He spoke of man as a
traveller, the end of whose journey must certainly one day approach, and
earnestly bade us to take thought for that event, as there were many
there who ‘before the frost is spread over our prairie, may be lying
under its sod.’ He reminded us much of Amos, the herdsman of Tekoa, for
his similies were all drawn from rural objects--the sun, the clouds, the
prairie, the river, and the scenery around him. We no longer wondered at
the accounts we had received of the high religious and moral standing of
the place, and the great amount of good done in it. This last year,
twenty-three thousand dollars were contributed by the people of Peoria
towards charitable and religious institutions. We walked home under a
bright moon, our hearts much refreshed by all we had heard, and we were
rejoiced the Lord had placed such a faithful servant in these fair
prairies, to uphold his name.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 9th._--While wandering along the shore this morning, we descried
the smoke of our expected steamboat, and hastened back to the hotel to
pack our trunks. It was the Home, from Peru to St. Louis, and we were to
take passage in her for Alton, on the Mississippi. We bade adieu to
sweet Peoria with regret. The remembrance of it will long ‘perfume our
minds,’ as old Izaak Walton says. Its situation, its excellent society,
and religious privileges, and its good schools, must certainly make it a
desirable place of residence, or of trade. It is two hundred miles from
St. Louis, and one hundred and seventy from Chicago. When in the saloon
of the Home we were presented with a book in which to write our names,
place of residence, whither bound, and _our politics_. While leaving
this, our eyes fell upon a piece of pink satin, framed, which hung
against the wall, upon which was printed the rules of the boat. Among
other things it forbid ‘any gentleman to go to table without his coat,
or any other garb to disturb the company. No gentleman must pencil-work
or otherwise injure the furniture.’ (I suppose whittling was meant. Upon
our lake boat we saw the boxes of merchandize and barrels on deck, fast
disappearing under the whittling knife. A piece a foot long and two
inches wide would be torn from the box and cut to pieces by a restless
passenger.) Beside these, we were told ‘no gentleman was to lie down in
a berth with his boots on, and none enter the ladies’ saloon without
permission from them.’ We found in this boat, three indications of being
near the south, liquors upon the table, gambling in the gentlemen’s
cabin, and a black chambermaid _slave_ to the captain. Among the
passengers, were a man with his wife and sons, unlike the most I had
met, going west, but making a retrograde motion to the east. They were
driven away they said by the fever and ague, from which they had been
suffering ever since their removal west. Their yellow gaunt appearance
fully testified to the truth of this. He had been a shop keeper in the
State of New York, who experiencing some reverses, was persuaded to
remove to this golden region by his wife, who was now no longer able to
lead the village fashions. He bought a lot, and mill privilege, in an
embryo town--their house was situated under the boughs of a forest
impenetrable to the sunbeams, surrounded by decaying leaves, moist new
soil, and a mill pond. The town’s people were too busily occupied in
building banks and hotels, to dig wells, and drinking out of the marshy
springs, of course all fell ill by turns. Their boy, they said, had been
at ‘death’s door,’ and now, although better, was afflicted with an _ague
cake_, which they wished me to feel in his side. I am convinced a
little prudence and knowledge, will keep many ‘healthy, wealthy, and
wise,’ who, without it are easily discouraged, fall into difficulties,
and wish to try a new place. We have met many upon the road, who have
nearly equalled the old woman on the prairie, who had begun the world
seven times.

The other female passenger was a young girl who had come down the river
in the boat, her home being on the prairie, back of Peru. She was a
pretty innocent country lassie about sixteen, travelling alone, on a
visit to a brother living on the river, whose wife was ill and required
her services. Her travelling dress was a muslin striped with pink; and
her hat one of that description we call Dutch bonnets, made of
pasteboard covered with pink glazed gingham. She was rejoiced to examine
my wardrobe, and cut new patterns, as she lives far from the haunts of
men and mantua-makers. My Mosaic brooch pleased her much, and she asked
me if I had bought it of the pedlar who she heard had lately arrived in
that part of the country with a lot of new goods, and whom she was eager
to see. I was obliged to say I had not purchased it from that
fashionable depositary. She then proposed to show me her clothes; mine
being new to her, she supposed her’s must be new and desirable to me. At
her request the chamber-maid drew from the state-room a huge chest of
black walnut, which she opened, and, among other things, displayed a
pretty straw bonnet trimmed with gay ribbons and flowers. That was her
Sunday bonnet. She also drew forth a topaz pin which had reached here in
a pedlar’s cart, and was a present to her by her brother. ‘This pin has
lasted wonderfully,’ she said, ‘considering how much it has been
borrowed. At every dance or party when I do not go, some of the girls
borrow and wear it. It has been lent for ten miles around.’ This young
lady had been brought when quite young, by her family, from Ohio, whence
they emigrated here. They had all suffered much from the fever and ague,
but were now acclimated, or rather had corrected the causes of their
agues, and she had become fat and rosy. I have remarked in several
instances, that the children born here, or brought here young, grow up
strong and ruddy, and their parents suffer the most. It is only the
first generation who lose their health, as the land improves and
diseases vanish about their homes by the time their children are grown.
This family live upon a large and productive farm which yields, among
other things, according to her account, four hundred bushels of peaches.
In the season of this delicious fruit her mother gives a peach feast,
inviting all their friends and acquaintances, who, after eating as much
as they like, carry away each a basket full. Her family sell several
barrels of dried peaches every year.

Twelve miles below Peoria we stopped at the town of Pekin, built upon a
bank elevated fifteen feet above the water during high tide; but now,
all these places are much higher. The captain told us he should be here
some time taking in merchandize, and we employed the interval in seeing
the lions of the town. I told the little country girl our intention.
‘Lions!’ she said, ‘I guess you mean wolves; there are no lions in these
parts.’

Pekin is a small place and only contains eight or nine hundred
inhabitants, and five or six streets. The shops seemed well filled with
goods, and presented a goodly show of tin, iron-ware, dry-goods,
crockery, provisions, etc. I purchased a green gauze veil here and
several small articles, all of which I found much more expensive than in
our Atlantic shops, freight being high on the Mississippi. In paying for
them I found a new currency here, my shillings and sixpences being
transformed into _bits_ and _pics_ or picayunes. The Pekin Express lay
upon the counter which we amused ourselves looking over while waiting
for change. The person who kept the shop turned out to be the oldest
inhabitant of the place, that important personage who, in a storm,
always determines if there has been ever a greater one or no. He might
very well be the oldest, as the town is but ten years in existence.
‘Pekin,’ he said, ‘would have been ere this far ahead of any town upon
the river, were it not that there were two parties among the
commissioners who were to lay it out; these pulling different ways the
town was nearly lost between them. The rich country behind, and the
river in front, had befriended them, and they soon expected to have
their branch of the railroad finished to Mackinaw river, whose water
power and timber bluffs were very valuable.’ We remarked as we walked, a
large hotel nearly finished; a presbyterian, methodist, and several
other meeting-houses; office of the ‘Tazewell Telegraph’; academy, and
some dwellings. We lay here four hours with a hot sun reflecting from
the sandy bank, impatiently watching the barrels of flour which seemed
as they would never cease rolling from the large store-house upon the
bank, down to our vessel. These barrels are from the steam flour mills,
which turn out two hundred barrels a day. Beside these, we took in a
hundred sacks of corn, and some other merchandize. The captain seemed
well pleased with his morning’s work, saying he had a _streak of luck_
that day. Three miles below this he had another ‘streak.’ At the mouth
of Mackinaw river scows were waiting him, loaded with bundles of laths
and staves, and long dark boards, which I took for mahogany, but which
proved to be black-walnut. The Mackinaw is a clear stream, having rich
bottom land, bounded by bluffs covered with white oak and cedar. The
prairies through which it flows, are rolling and tolerable land with
several mill seats.

The Illinois looked beautiful this afternoon. Its glassy waters scarcely
moved, and it seemed so content with its sweet resting place, and at the
silent admiration of those stately trees, which were sending their cool
flickering shadows over her and gazing down at loveliness, that it would
fain linger upon its course, as some young languid beauty, conscious of
a graceful position which is winning admiring glances from every
beholder.

Among the trees, beside the usual elm, oak and maple, we observed
several enormous wild cherry trees, nearly one hundred feet in height,
and at least fifteen feet in circumference, and the paw paw, the coffee
nut, the red ash, American nettle, a tall, slender tree, with pretty red
berries, and many unknown to us, or to those around us. The islands in
this river are small but covered with soft, luxurious herbage. The birds
and wild fowl were out, enjoying themselves, chattering, pluming their
wings, and visiting each other from tree to tree. Among the wild fowl,
we observed teal and brant, and wild ducks, skimming over the water, or
wheeling in flocks over our heads. One, apparently in a spirit of
daring, would set out to cross our path--leaving his little cove, he
would glide with the utmost rapidity over the river in front of us,
leaving a silver line on the smooth surface of the stream, and after we
had passed, glide back, bobbing up and down upon the waves in our wake.
When he arrived at home, what a quacking and chattering and fluttering
was heard! In one little cove, or bayou, was a little island, covered
with rich grass, and shaded from the sun by the dense grove whose
branches met over it--this seemed to be quite a colony of ducks, who
were going and coming in rapid but graceful evolutions from the main
land. A young man who stood near us named the place Quackville, and
declared when he returned home he would publish a map, and sell off the
lots. We passed several towns to day, as Liverpool, Havanna,
Beardstown--the former a small settlement, but which its inhabitants
intend to make larger, as they have already a railroad in contemplation
across the Mississippi. Beardstown is a place of some importance. It is
a county town, and its commerce greater than any upon the river.
Mechanics of all descriptions are to be found here, as bakers, shoe
makers, tailors, blacksmiths, cabinet makers, silver smiths, carpenters,
joiners, coopers, painters &c. &c. see Peck. There are also here steam
flour mills, saw mills, breweries, distilleries, &c. A canal is
projected here, to connect the Illinois with the Wabash, (which divides
the state of Illinois from Indiana,) by means of the Sangamon and
Vermillion forks. While passing these towns one is surprised at their
rapid growth, for when Schoolcraft rowed his canoe up this river twenty
years since, it was a wilderness only inhabited by Indians. Opposite
Havanna, the Spoon river enters the Illinois. Its Indian name is
Amequeon, which means _ladle_, and is much prettier than its present
name. It is one hundred and forty miles in length, navigable most of the
way, and capable of being cleared further. The soil is dry undulating
prairie, with considerable timber--and some of it upon the forks of the
Spoon is the richest in the state--its forks and tributaries affording
good mill seats. It is in the military bounty land, which commences just
above it, and terminates at the junction of the Illinois with the
Mississippi, making a triangle of five million three hundred and sixty
thousand acres, about ninety miles along the Illinois, and the base of
the triangle, ninety miles across to the Mississippi, near Quincy. This
is appropriated by Congress to the soldiers of the regular army in the
war between the United States and Great Britain. Two thirds of this land
is prairie, and the rest timbered, crossed by a variety of rivers and
creeks. The soil is generally a black vegetable mould from fifteen to
thirty inches deep. Much of the best of this land has been bought up by
a company who have opened an office at Quincy, where they sell it from
three to ten dollars an acre, while other parts are sold at the price
government established for its lands all over the States, one dollar and
twenty-five cents an acre. Government has given to the State of Illinois
every other section. Sangamon river comes gliding down over its pebbly
floor, a pure transparent stream, between Liverpool and Havanna. It runs
through Sangamon county, of whose fertility, beautiful scenery, crowded
population, rich prairies, numerous streams, and valuable timber groves,
we have heard such flourishing accounts. By the way, I can never get
reconciled to the western custom of calling woods timber, woodland, or
groves, or forest, timberland. My young country girl, Maria, in relating
an interesting romantic event which had occurred in her region of
country, instead of speaking of a ramble in the woods said ‘we had gone
to walk in the timber.’ In this famed county is Springfield, the capital
of the State. The Sangamon river is one hundred and eighty miles long,
and navigable nearly to the capitol, seventy-five miles, by small
steamboats. With a small expense it can be cleared. We do not see the
Illinois in all its grandeur, as the water is low. It falls, our captain
says, one and a half inches a day, and has fallen eight feet since June.
It will arise in the autumn, and when its present channel is full
overflows the bottom land to the bluffs. This makes the river shore,
unless very elevated, rather unhealthy, and consequently uninhabited.
Soon after passing the Sangamon, we stopped to take in wood, and we
embraced the opportunity to take a sunset stroll in the forest. A small
cottage embowered among woodpiles, inhabited by a woodman and his
family, were the only signs of human life we saw. These sylvan solitudes
however, are not without their denizens, for the birds were skipping
from bough to bough, the turtle were romantically reclining upon the
logs beside the water, the wild fowls, and the paroquets were chattering
in concert with the mocking bird. There the squirrel also

    “Sits partly on a bough his brown nuts cracking,
    And from the shell the sweet white kernel taking.”

Here however in these pretty nooks he sits undisturbed, for no boys
‘with crooks and bags’ can molest his quiet haunts. We enjoyed the deep
forest walk very much having been now so long cramped in a steamboat,
and wandered along among the stately beech and graceful linden, the
black walnut and locust, swung upon the festoons of the enormous vines
which hung down from the trees, and breathed with much satisfaction the
perfume from the dewy herbage, grape vine buds, and yellow jassamin
which climbed the boughs around us. The steamboat bell recalled us to
the shore in time to see a steamboat pass, being the second we had met
this morning.

There is much travelling upon this river during the summer months. Our
captain told us he had made fifty-eight trips last year from St. Louis
to Peru, carrying ten thousand passengers. This seems a great number,
but we are a travelling people, and with the emigrants going west, it
may be true. I am chary of repeating things heard upon the road as I
know my country people delight in quizzing travellers. I have had some
awful examples of this lately, sufficient to make me cautious, in regard
to certain tourists from abroad to this country; and when told any thing
dubious, remember the _three miles of roast pig_; the _drunken ladies of
Boston_; the _piano with pantalets_ upon its legs; the canvass bags to
hold specie in times of bank troubles, etc. etc. Pretty Maria’s
travelling bonnet, which I described to you, also reminds me of the
misconceptions to which travellers are liable, who take a hasty glance
and go not to the best sources for information. As proof of the poverty
of the country, low style of dress and manners, an European traveller
tells his readers the richest ladies wear hats of their own manufacture,
made of pasteboard covered with calico or gingham. And so they do; but
only to run in the garden, or to a neighbor in the county, for you know
we all, when in the county, use these as garden hats, as they shelter
the face so well from the sun. I wish you could transport yourself here
at this moment, and seat yourself by me upon the hurricane deck, and see
how perfectly the forest shore is reflected upon the quiet polished
Illinois. This stream cannot be called a flowing one for it has scarcely
any current, but reposes in its bed with the tranquility of a lake. Now
it lies in evening’s deep shadow, while, as we look above, the topmost
plumage is tipt with gold--this gradually disappears,--darkness
succeeds, except where one struggling moon-beam, from the Indians Tibic
geezis, _night sun_, streams down the long forest vista, and lies like a
silver ribbon across the river. I always go to bed with the chickens
while on board a steamboat, as a light attracts mosquetoes, and here
river fog forbids us to sit out of doors--so good night.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 10._--Off Meredosia. This is a thriving town, built upon one of
those elevated terraces which occur frequently along the river as if on
purpose to raise the settlements above the damp alluvion, and to give
them a pretty effect. It is in a good situation to rise, as it is a sort
of business port to Jacksonville, to which a railroad of twenty-three
miles is in operation; and Morgan county, upon which it is situated, is
a thickly peopled district, having good timbered lands, mill streams,
quarries of lime and free stone; and is watered by many streams.
Jacksonville is a large town where there are several churches, a court
house, mills and shops. The Quincy and Danville railroad passes through
Meredosia, to the Wabash river, two hundred and twenty miles. Through
this river, communication is held with the lakes. Their exports are
between two and three hundred thousand dollars, and imports five hundred
thousand dollars. Here we took in several passengers. Six miles below
Meredosia is Naples, a small collection of shops and dwellings, situated
upon a high bank. Upon one house, larger than the rest, I read the name
‘Napoleon Coffee House.’ I looked around for Vesuvious, but saw it not,
nor any other Neopolitan traces. The names upon this river are very
ludicrous, and striking monuments of the want of taste in those who
bestowed them. One would imagine, from reading my last letter, I had
been travelling in seven league boats, or in a balloon, as I have
touched at Peru, Pekin, Havanna, Liverpool, Naples, Brussels, Rome,
(part in the night,) &c. While the Indian names are so pretty, why are
they neglected for such worn out European designations. Peoria, and
Illinois, and Ottowa are very pretty; Hennipen is very well, as given in
honor of one of the early discoverers of this county from France, and it
might be thought a debt of gratitude, but every pioneer has not so good
a name, and if this custom is followed, it saddles us with such names as
already abound, viz: Jo Davies’ County, Pike, Cook, Higgonbottom,
Hancock, Buggsville, Toddtown, Dodgeville. Moreover, the Indians were
the first explorers, and if any, they are entitled to this honor. To
obviate this it has been proposed to take something local, but unless
persons of taste are consulted, we shall hear of more Bigbonelicks,
Bloodyruns, Mud Lakes or Crab Orchard’s. I wish Congress would take the
matter in hand, and form a committee of nomanclature to name every new
settlement.

We are constantly passing steamboats. In 1836, at Beardstown, there were
four hundred and fifty arrivals and departures, and at Naples their
account was the first year, 1828, nine; from March to June, 1832, one
hundred and eight, and now, of course all these figures must be doubled.
Among our passengers we have an old Kentucky woman, who has been living
several years upon this river. She was so rejoiced to see a slave again,
that soon she and Violette, our chambermaid, became quite intimate
friends. She frequently borrowed her pipe to have a comfortable smoke
out upon the guards, where, with Violette beside her, she would smoke
and chat for hours. A lady on board, who had lately become a convert to
temperance cause, was extremely offended at the sight of spirits upon
the dining table. Her husband argued for their use upon the ground of
frequent impure water, and fever and ague, from which the stomach is
fortified. The wife, however, was not convinced; when, in the midst of a
high argument, our old woman put her head in at the door, and taking out
her pipe, after slowly puffing off her smoke, uttered this oracular
sentence: ‘For my part, I think there are lots of gnats strained at, and
lots of camels swallowed,’--and disappeared. The husband left the
argument for the card table, whence he arose sometime after, grumbling
at his losses, and galled by the discovery that the winner was a well
known black legg, whose practice was to live in steamboats during
summer, to fleece such silly sheep as himself. In the winter he returned
upon his laurels, to New Orleans or St. Louis, to revel upon his
winnings.

This morning we passed one of those machines employed by government,
during low water for the purpose of clearing away the sandbars. It is a
large wooden ark, worked by steam. A great shovel takes up the mud,
brings it up, and throws it into the scow at the other side which is
emptied upon the shores. The State has appropriated $100,000 to
improvements upon this river. There are several sandbars, and below
Ottowa ledges of sandstone which, if removed, would render the
navigation unimpeded at all seasons of the year quite to Ottowa, two
hundred and ten miles above the mouth of the river. We stopped so often
to take in freight and passengers, that we began to be fearful we should
not reach the mouth of the river and behold its junction with the
stately Mississippi before dark--however, ‘we came a good jog’ this
morning, to use our old Kentucky lady’s phrase, and now after tea we are
sitting upon the guards watching for it. We are continually passing
streams which run into this river--Crooked creek, comes down about one
hundred miles through a very fertile region of country with a soil of
argillaceous mould from one to four feet deep.[20] Its banks are lined
with oak, maple, hickory, black walnut and much other valuable timber.
Bituminous coal, and free stone quarries are also found there. Apple
creek, at whose mouth is a small settlement; Macoupin creek, its name
taken from the Indian Maquapin, a water plant, whose smooth leaf floats
upon the bayous and lakes in this region; its esculent root, after being
baked under heated stones is a favorite food with the native tribes.
There is a settlement upon this last named stream commenced in eighteen
hundred and sixteen, which then was the most northern white settlement
of Illinois. The population of the State four years after, in eighteen
hundred and twenty, was fifty-five thousand two hundred and eleven, and
now, eighteen hundred and forty, it is four hundred and twenty three
thousand nine hundred and thirty four, a great increase in twenty years.
We have now upon each hand, the two last counties which border the
Illinois. Green, on the east, contains excellent land, well settled by
eastern families, many from Vermont. It is one of the richest portions
of land in the State, traversed by fine water courses and bounded by two
large rivers,--containing beautiful prairies, and excellent timber. In
the cliffs which border the Mississippi on this county, bituminous coal
is found among the sandstone and limestone strata, and crystal springs
flow from their sides. Calhoun county on our right is the southern point
of the triangle containing the military bounty lands. The point where
the Mississippi and Illinois meet is low prairie subjected to inundation
and consequently unhealthy; coal has been found here, and the large
trees are famous for their honey. As we were near the mouth of the
river, and my little fellow voyager, Maria, had not yet landed, I asked
her how far we were from her brother’s residence. She said she had been
looking out for it, but every place had a different name from that of
her brother. I recommended her to ask the captain; he sent her word we
had passed it twenty miles back. Poor Maria seemed overwhelmed with
consternation. The town, we found upon enquiry, was in the interior, the
passengers landing at an old tree upon the shore and we all now
remembered a plain country-man, upon the bank who made numerous signs to
the steamboat, flourishing his arms frantically. Maria with the rest
supposed he was in jest, or a madman, but now remembered he was like her
brother, who must have seen her and motioned her to stop. Maria had
expected a town, and did not imagine that her stopping place. As our
boat was so uncertain in its movements the poor man must have spent the
day upon the shore, and was now doubtless very anxious about his young
sister. There was nothing for her to do now but stop in the steamboat at
St. Louis until its return trip. I felt sorry for the poor girl, only
fifteen, and thus left to the tender mercy of the world. We spoke to the
captain and chambermaid, who both promised to take charge of her and
land her at her brothers when he returned next week. The afternoon is
beautiful; we are peeping up the forest glades, as the channel runs near
the shore, or inhaling the rich perfume which the summer breeze shakes
out from the trees. Suddenly the forest is passed and we gaze over the
low prairie which lies between the two rivers, bounded by a line of
round green hills which range across the country. ‘The bluffs of the
Mississippi!’ exclaimed my companion, ‘and we soon shall see its famous
waters.’ We hastened up to the hurricane deck, and placed ourselves in a
good situation for beholding the scenery; a little excited at the
thought of looking upon the grand and celebrated stream. The Illinois
flowed as straight and still as a canal, about four hundred yards wide,
we glided over its waters and soon found ourselves in a broad majestic
stream which came rolling down between a range of bluffs; here, a mile
broad, upon whose bosom some lonely islands stretched across from the
mouth of the Illinois. The view was delightful upon each side; the fair
plains of Missouri at our right, and upon the Illinois side, bold
beautiful cliffs, or green cone like hills, covered with a soft carpet
of verdure, sinking down upon the east side into lovely green dells.
This style of hill is called by the French, Mamelle. In one of these
pretty nooks, nestled at the foot of a bluff, is the town of Grafton,
from whose balconies the inhabitants obtain a fine view up the
Mississippi. This town is only a few years old, but expects soon to
rival Alton, as most of the travelling from the interior to the Missouri
towns opposite, is through it. It has already laid out upon paper a
railroad to Springfield, the capitol. The rapid tide of the ‘father of
waters,’ presented a great contrast to the languid Illinois. The color
is brown, but of a different tint from the Illinois, being a dark coffee
brown, but clear and sparkling. We looked a last farewell to the fair
Illinois, upon whose banks, or on whose water we had travelled for four
days and four nights, a distance of nearly four hundred and fifty miles,
if we include the Des Plaines. The loveliness of the scenery all this
distance merits the encomiums made upon it by the early French writers.
This was a favorite river with the French, and La Salle, Charlevoix, and
Marquette, describe the beauty of its shores in glowing terms.

The bluffs upon the Illinois shore, as we descend the Mississippi,
become more bare and precipitous, and have a waterworn appearance as if
the water had once flowed along their summits. The regular
stratification of the sandstone and limestone of these cliffs, present
the appearance of mason work, crowning the heights with castellated
resemblances, so that we might imagine we were passing beneath some
mountain fastness, with its frowning walls, dungeon keep, and warder’s
tower. Occasionally masses of white limestone are strewed along the
shore, or grouped upon the green sloping bank, as if some large city had
there arisen upon the river’s side. Turning a sharp angle of one of
those bluffs we found ourselves before a large imposing looking town,
built upon the bank of the river, which came sloping down from the
bluffs behind. This we learned was Alton. While our crew were mooring
our boat upon the steep bank, we gazed with great curiosity and interest
upon this place, larger than any we had seen since leaving Detroit
fourteen hundred miles behind. To the left the rocks were crowned by a
large solid looking building which we were told was the penitentiary. In
front was a row of high ware-houses made of limestone, filled with goods
and men; while a mass of houses and steeples at our right were brightly
reflecting the rays of the sinking sun. The shore presented a busy
scene; men and carts and horses were transporting goods or luggage, or
busily employed Macadamizing the bank--a great improvement upon the
wharves we had passed. A large brick building at our right hand, with a
white porch and steps, bearing the sign of ‘Alton House,’ being our
place of destination, we directed our course towards it. The keeper of
the house being absent, and it being no one’s business to take care of
us, we spent some time wandering about the well furnished parlors, and
staring at the waiters who were washing up the tea things in the
dining-room, ere we could find any one to listen to our wants. We had
left behind us the land where a living is only to be obtained by effort,
and where the landlord and porters are on the alert in order to catch
the stranger and take him in. Here, the cool American manner obtains;
and although to the hungry, tired traveller rather annoying, yet, when
we reflect upon the peace, and independence, and plenty, which produces
this indifference, he will do as we did, throw himself upon a sofa, keep
cool, and quietly await the arrival of somebody.

While amusing ourselves looking around at the furniture, we observed a
portrait of, as we afterwards learned, the master of the house. As much
as we had heard of the wild independence, the _devil-me-care_ manners of
our western brethren, we were here taken by surprise. He was without his
coat--actually painted in his shirt sleeves--having upon his head an old
straw hat! It was probably a warm day, or he was in too much of a hurry
to put on his coat when he went to sit; and besides, it was nobody’s
business but his own how he was dressed, or if he were dressed at all,
and I suppose we may be thankful he retained his white robe ‘any way.’
Luxury, refinement, and conventual forms may be carried to excess; but I
am not prepared to say the other extreme is better. A boarder in the
house happening to stray in, we told our wants, and he kindly sent a
waiter for the master of the house. He came instantly and with the
greatest alacrity and wish to oblige, took us up stairs. All the rooms
proving full or engaged, except one too small, we were directed to
another house, which, after a short moonlight walk, we reached. The
Eagle tavern, a favorite name for hotels, I think, in our country, was a
comfortable house, although not pretending to the style and fashion of
the Alton House. And now having finished these last few lines, while our
supper was preparing, I hasten to bid you good-night.




LETTER VIII.


ALTON, July 11th.

_My dear E._--Harassed by no compunctious visitings for the enormous
package which I dismissed to you this morning through the Alton
post-office, I have seated myself deliberately before my little desk to
prepare you another. We have spent a delightful day among our friends
here, and are very much pleased with the towns of Alton, for there are
two of them. We are now, four o’clock, waiting for the steamboat to take
us to St. Louis, and I employ the time in making a few sketches of the
place for you. Alton is built as I told you, upon a sloping bank. This
ground is very uneven, and upon some of the elevated portions are the
public buildings. The churches here are well built and numerous, I think
seven or eight; the streets wide and airy; places reserved for public
squares, and several handsome private dwellings. The town has arisen
rapidly, and from a small town in 1832, it has now fine streets, and
houses, two hundred being built last year; merchants who transact
business to the amount of several hundred thousand dollars, and even
half a million in some instances. Eight or ten steamboats are owned
here, and two railroads in contemplation, and the great national road it
is thought will be conducted through this place. There are several
religious societies here, each having houses of worship; among them the
baptist church is spoken of as being nicely fitted up in the interior;
it is built of stone. Every convenience and comfort of life is at hand;
coal in profusion in the vicinity of the town, which is sold very cheap;
limestone, freestone, and water lime, besides other mineral productions
abound. The markets are stored with wild game--deer, partridges, prairie
hen, and water-fowl; fruits both wild and cultivated; various sorts of
fish; corn, beef, pork, and vegetables of the finest order. Madison
county, in which it stands, is one of the richest in the State, being
most of it upon the American bottom. It contains seven hundred and
ninety square miles, and the value of its productions, exclusive of
capital invested, and cost of buildings, amounts to two millions three
hundred and sixty-nine thousand one hundred and fifty-one dollars and
eighty cents. Of bushels of wheat, they have raised one hundred and
sixty-five thousand five hundred and twenty. Corn one million three
hundred and four thousand three hundred and thirty-five bushels.
Tobacco, eleven thousand two hundred and eighty pounds. Capital invested
in manufactures, two hundred and ten thousand four hundred and
thirty-five dollars. But I suppose you do not care for these details. If
I should come here again in a few years, I expect to see Alton three
times its size, for although it may not rival St. Louis, as the
inhabitants imagine, it must be the most considerable place after it,
west of Cincinnati. The Illinois brings to it the produce of the
northern lakes and States--the Mississippi waft to its doors the exports
of the west, and takes it over to the Ohio, and to the gulf of Mexico,
from which last it is only four or five days distant. The interests of
religion and education employ the benevolent inhabitants to a remarkable
degree and many thousands are expended every year for the furtherance of
these objects. Among these are Shurtliff College, Alton Theological
Seminary, Alton Female Seminary. But enough of statistics, you will say,
and I hasten to our own personal adventures. We ordered a carriage
to-day to take us to Upper Alton, to visit our friends there, and were
quite pleased to see as nice a coach and pair of horses as we could see
in our own Broadway. After leaving the town we drove through some rich
prairie land, interspersed with trees, through which we obtained fine
views of the swift rolling Mississippi, and across it the verdant plains
of Missouri, with green swelling hills beyond. A drive of two miles
brought us to Upper Alton, a pretty small looking village, with spires
and neat dwellings peeping through the trees. This place is very
pleasantly situated upon an elevated plateau of ground about two miles
from the lower town. Families here enjoy great advantages, in regard to
the education of their children, as colleges and schools abound in its
neighborhood. The society of this place is very superior, and its
situation healthy.

We found our friends in a large picturesque house in the cottage style,
surrounded by piazzas, whose pillars were wreathed with the clustering
Michigan rose, and shaded by the graceful cotton wood, and pretty red
bud and locust. Here indeed was a western paradise! upon the Mississippi
banks we found realized, those visions so many have sighed after, a
lodge in the vast wilderness, a secluded retreat from the haunts of men,
where the confusions and follies of the world are only remembered as a
troubled dream. A charming young family, and a well selected library,
render this retirement most delightful. A seminary upon a new plan had
been lately erected near their abode, and with a view of showing us
every thing of interest around them, our friends drove us in their
carriage through a pleasant road in an oak forest, to the Monticello
Female Seminary. The building is of limestone of that region, four
stories in height. It stands within a lawn ornamented with groups of
trees, and a fine garden is laid out in the rear. This extensive
establishment was founded by Benjamin Godfrey, Esq., a gentleman of
Alton, who, to this benevolent purpose devoted a large share of his
property. While a resident of the west, many examples had come before
his eyes, of the miseries arising from the imperfect education of the
young women who settle here. The dearth of servants rendered it
necessary for the young wives around him to superintend, if not assist
in household labor, and he saw how much better it was they should come
prepared for these duties, and quite able to perform them, instead of
wearing themselves out, and pining away over tasks, which, by being new,
appear much more arduous than they are in reality. As the evil lay in a
defective system of education, this generous individual at once saw how
great a desideratum an institution would be, uniting useful with
ornamental accomplishments. With a public spirit to be much applauded,
Mr. Godfrey erected this spacious building, for educating ‘wives for the
west.’ Eighty young ladies is the limited number, all to be over
fourteen years of age. With the course of scientific study usual in
female seminaries, the pupils are taught music, instructed in religion,
and in various _household duties_. Among other lessons, they are taught
to set a table, arrange their rooms, even sweep and scrub them; wash,
starch and iron all their clothes. Some young ladies, who had been bred
in idleness, or who had come from the indulgent homes of Alton, or
luxurious mansions of St. Louis, where slaves await their nod, were very
reluctant at first to undertake these menial employments; but the
advantage which so good a school presented in its other departments,
rendered their mothers deaf to their complaints. They were soon,
however, broken in, and sing as merrily over their wash tubs, as the
other pupils. As gain is not the object of its generous founder, the
price of admission is placed low, still there are some, whose means are
too straightened for even this, and these are allowed to pay for their
instruction, by labor in the house. The eagerness to get admittance for
young persons, is very great, and many thus receive instruction who are
of high respectability, and are enabled to attend to the younger
branches of the family, or even, if required, teach others. Some of
these young persons are beneficiaries of a benevolent society, called
the ‘Ladies’ Association for Educating Females.’ The object of this
society is to ‘encourage and assist young females to qualify themselves
for teaching, and to aid in supporting teachers in those places where
they cannot otherwise be sustained.’ Young females of all ages are
selected from poor families and placed in schools, where they are
watched over by these benevolent ladies, their tuition paid, and to
each, every year, is addressed a circular letter of advice, with the
donation of an appropriate, instructive book. When prepared, they are
placed in situations where they can support themselves. Several have
become missionaries, and at this school are two of the Cherokee tribe
who are preparing to be teachers among their people. The great amount of
good performed by these ladies entitle them to the hearty wishes of the
benevolent and patriotic. The Rev. J. Spalding, in his address before
the seventh annual meeting at Jacksonville, says: ‘Since its
commencement it has aided one hundred and forty-seven young ladies in
their preparation for usefulness and heaven, thirty-one of whom are
professed followers of the Lamb.’ Now that I have thoroughly described
the institution, we will leave the carriage and enter the house. We were
shown into a neatly furnished parlor, where we were soon joined by the
principal of Monticello, the Rev. Theron Baldwin, a gentleman of great
information and piety. He kindly explained to us the principle upon
which the seminary was conducted, and then offered to show us the house.
Every thing was arranged with the greatest order and neatness. The
dining, school, and recitation rooms, were large, clean and airy, and
the bed rooms commodious. Upon the ground floor was a chapel fitted up
with the beautiful black walnut of their woods; here divine service is
performed, by the Rev. Mr. Baldwin, to the school and people of the
neighborhood, who assemble there every Sunday. You see the Illinois
people are determined their people shall enjoy the blessings of
education; and when we reflect how much the destiny of our nation
depends upon the next generation, we cannot devote our time or our money
to a better purpose, than furthering such institutions. We left the
seminary, pleased with its arrangements, and wishing all success to the
generous individual who originated the establishment. It is delightful
to see wealth so well employed, to behold the ‘just steward’ thus ably
disposing of his master’s property. Such disinterestedness shone out in
bold relief from the selfish and reckless waste of fortune which we had
beheld in our pilgrimage, like one of his own ‘oak islands,’ upon a
sunny and treeless prairie.

Once more we experienced the pains of parting, and were forced to leave
our friends that afternoon. We returned to our hotel where we are
awaiting the arrival of our steamboat which is to take us to St. Louis.
When I look around in this interesting country, and upon such towns as
Alton, I wonder why our Atlantic cities are so full of people. How many
young men do I know there, and indeed, whole families, who are
struggling for a living, and denying themselves every comfort that their
spare income may suffice, to give them a showy appearance in public;
crammed into crowded boarding houses, narrow, hot, dusty streets, when
there is here in this wide beautiful land, room, fresh air, fine
scenery, employment, everything to be enjoyed, at half the expense they
are forced to lay out among so many discomforts. The steamboat bell
warns me to put up my note book, and I will resume when aboard.

We found ourselves in a small steam-boat, which makes regular trips
between this town and St. Louis, twenty-five miles. Alton looked very
pretty when we turned to bid a sorrowful adieu, and we regretted our
time would not allow us to remain in this interesting place. We are now
all eagerly looking out, for the giant Missouri, whose junction with the
Mississippi is but two miles below Alton. At length the point is in
view, all gather upon the guards, and bend our eyes towards the right
shore,--we are now before the mouth and behold an extraordinary scene.
The Missouri does not, as travellers tell us, come rushing, and
bounding, and dashing along, striking the Mississippi with such a
concussion that volumes of mist arise in the air,--we beheld nothing so
wonderful--a broad stream rolled down between its verdant banks,
rapidly, and very like a torrent, but in quite a decent and proper
manner. Its color--alas, for our pellucid lakes--is a tint not often
recognized by artists, but generally called gruel or soap-suds hue. It
holds in solution such an extraordinary quantity of clay, that one
wonders how the steamboat can force its way through it. Its rapid
current is distinguished by the curls and little whirlpools among the
mud. Where it meets the Mississippi is a small ridge of clay, and thick
masses push themselves under the clear brown water, coloring it more and
more with its impurity, until at last, the unhappy Mississippi, after
struggling for some time, is completely lost in the clayey stream, as
some pure young heart, striving against temptation, but lost at last.
The streams continue separate for some miles below St. Louis, and there
the river takes the Missouri character. I looked up the vista of this
grand stream, as we passed its mouth, with sentiments of awe. A mighty
mass of water--it came rolling down nearly four thousand miles from its
source in the wild recesses of the Rocky Mountains, bearing upon its
bosom, not a fleet of Argosies, but materials for their construction in
whole forests of gigantic trees.

Such an admirer of water as you know I am, you may be sure I regretted
the soiling of my bright brunette Mississippi. To watch the foam of our
vessel had been a favorite pastime, but alas, what a change from the
diamond and emerald of our lakes, the topaz of the Illinois, the Zircon
of the Mississippi to the soapsuds of the Missouri. I have called the
Mississippi coffee color; it is now coffee-au-lait, and indignant must
the father of waters be under so great an oppression. Several green
islands adorn the stream, and the shores are spotted with a few houses,
and now chimney, and roof, and tower, piled up against each other,
proclaim a city, and we are soon in sight of the city of St. Louis. An
old castellated Spanish mansion is the first relic we have seen of that
brave Castilian race which once reigned over these broad lands. It is, I
think, their _ultima thula_, their most northern point. The appearance
of St. Louis, from the water, is very much like Albany, as it is built
upon rising ground, consisting of two plateaus of land, the last
elevated several feet above the other, but its water craft gave it quite
a different character. We are used in our cities to behold the water
front, bristling with masts, but here we saw steamboats alone, there
being about seventy moored at the wharves, which gave a novel and
western appearance, to the scene. The flat boat, is fast disappearing,
and steamboats, are the only style of boat, with few exceptions, which
we see; of these, five hundred and eighty-eight have been built upon the
western waters.[21] The city of St. Louis stretches a mile along the
elevated shore, and nearly the same distance back. We almost fancied
ourselves in New York again, so great was the stir upon the wharf. The
ware-houses, of brick or limestone, made of the rock upon which they
stand, appeared filled with goods and customers, boxes and bales, carts
and barrows were floating about, and every one seemed active except the
negro slaves who were plodding about their work with the usual
nonchalant gait of this merry but indolent nation. We missed our good
wharves at home, and even the paved bank of Alton, for a shower had
rendered the shore muddy. Surely some Yankee might contrive a more
commodious landing; something that might rise and fall with the river,
or a long pier. We drove to the Missouri House, where we arrived in time
for tea, and at night were lulled to sleep by a Spanish guitar, and
chattering of French voices from the shops and _cafes_ in our
neighborhood.




LETTER IX.


ST. LOUIS, July 12.

_My dear E._--The days we have spent here, we have been very busy,
except Sunday, in examining every thing in and about this place. It is a
very nice city, and one of much importance, has increased much lately,
and will continue to increase. Its population is twenty-four thousand
five hundred and fifty-five. In 1825 it was only six thousand. There are
several good churches here, some of which, we attended to-day, it being
Sunday. There is a pretty episcopal of the Gothic form, a baptist
church, of brick, having a neat white porch in front--an unitarian, of
plaster--a methodist, and a large cathedral belonging to the catholics.
This is an odd picturesque building, and is one hundred and thirty-six
feet by eighty-four broad, built of grey stone. You enter by a porch
supported by four Doric columns. The body of the church is divided by
columns, lighted by elegant chandaliers; the sacristy and altar are very
handsome; the windows of painted glass; and there is in the church a
fine painting of St. Louis, presented by Louis XVIII. The bells are
from Normandy. We had penetrated two thousand miles in the wilderness of
the west, and were glad to find we had not yet ‘travelled beyond the
Sabbath.’

What nice resting spells these Sabbaths are! When whirled upon the
stream of life, our attention occupied in avoiding the snags and sawyers
and cross currents in our channel, how refreshing, how necessary is it
for us to anchor for a little while, and look about, and consider our
future course. The Sabbath is a precious anchor to the soul, giving it
time to meditate upon its future career, and consult those charts which
a kind heaven has sent to direct its route. The Sabbath is necessary to
man, and was given in mercy. Physicians tell us rest is required for the
machinery of man; that the brain and nerves, while forever upon the
stretch will decay much sooner than if sometimes relaxed. It was the
opinion of the great Wilberforce, that the suicide of Lord Londonderry
and that of Sir Samuel Romilly was owing to their neglect of this day of
rest. Speaking of the death of the former he says, ‘he was certainly
deranged--the effect probably of continued wear and tear of the mind.
But the strong impression of my mind is, that it is the effect of the
_non-observance of the Sabbath_, both as abstracting from politics, from
the continual recurrence of the same reflections, and as correcting the
false views of worldly things, and bringing them down to their own
indistinctness. He really was the last man in the world who appeared
likely to be carried away into the commission of such an act, so cool,
so self possessed! It is very curious to hear the newspapers speaking
of incessant application to business, forgetting that by a weekly
admission of a day of rest, which our Maker has graciously enjoined, our
faculties would be preserved from the effects of this constant strain. I
am strongly impressed with the recollection of your endeavors to prevail
upon the lawyers to give up Sunday consultations in which poor Romilly
would not concur. If he had suffered his mind to enjoy such occasional
relaxations it is highly probable the strings would never have snapped,
as they did, from over extension.’

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 13th._--This morning we took a coach and drove about to every
thing worth seeing in the city. In the French part of the town, the
streets are narrow and present quite a foreign and antique appearance.
Here are several neat, white-washed steep roofed dwellings surrounded by
piazzas, and occupied by the French part of the community. Main street,
which corresponds with our Pearl street, runs parallel with the river,
about a mile. It appears a very busy street and here one may obtain
goods from all quarters of the world brought up from New Orleans,--and
domestic wares from the country around. As you ascend from the river the
streets are wider and better built, and the upper end of the city is
laid out in wide streets fast filling up with handsome buildings, public
and private, some of these last, surrounded by courts and adorned by
trees. Here many eastern people dwell. A gentleman of the place, told us
there had been nine hundred houses put up in the city this year, and
from appearances I should think this a true estimate. There is a medical
college in progress, and a large hotel nearly finished, which is said
to be the largest hotel in the States. It is of red brick ornamented
with white marble, and is altogether a handsome building. It is to be
called the ‘St. Louis House.’ Several institutions are conducted by
catholics, as the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and the University of St.
Louis. In the library of the latter are nearly seven thousand volumes.
The court house is of brick, with a circular portico supported by white
columns. It stands in a large court in the centre of the city surrounded
by an iron railing. We entered the hall, and ascending to the cupola,
beheld a very delightful scene. The city is laid out as in a map below
us--behind stretch the verdant prairies, in front the swift rolling
Mississippi, and beyond it, the rich fields of the American bottoms in
Illinois, and the white buildings of Illinois town opposite. While
leaving the court house we were attracted by some advertisements upon
the door, for the sale of slaves. We noticed one for the sale of
‘Theresa, a likely negro girl about twelve years of age.’ This was our
first intimation we were in a land of slavery. You must not expect a
dissertation upon slavery, for whatever my opinions are I shall keep
them to myself, as I cannot mend or alter the state of things by my
advise, nor is it a woman’s province to meddle in such high matters of
State. However I might think, I certainly shall never speak in public
upon the subject, as I have a good old friend, called St. Paul, and he
in one of his letters says ‘It is a shame for a woman to speak in
public,’ and ‘women should be keepers at home.’ It is true I am not a
keeper at home just now, but I am travelling for health, and not to
enlighten the people with my wisdom. The number of slaves in Missouri
is forty eight thousand nine hundred and forty-one--its entire
population is five hundred thousand. We visited a museum here,
celebrated for its collection of organic remains, and we were surprised
at the number and good preservation of these ‘medals of creation.’ The
owner and keeper of this museum is Mr. Koch, a man of great enthusiasm
upon the subject of paleantology. He had just returned from an
expedition to the interior of Missouri from whence he had procured
ninety weight of bones. Seeing our interest in these things he admitted
us into an interior room which had the appearance of a charnel house,
filled with bones and skeletons, which his servant was covering with
preparation to preserve them from the effects of the air. Among them
were gigantic remains of the mastodon and other huge animals, with teeth
in excellent preservation. This museum contained many well preserved
specimens, the most important of all was a huge animal with tusks, which
he called missourium. He found also a head of an unknown animal which is
certainly the largest quadruped whose remains have been discovered,
having two horns each ten feet long, extending out horizontally on each
side, making with the head, a length of twenty-five feet from the tip of
one tusk to that of the other. The missourium, so called from the State
in which it was found, was an animal much larger than the elephant,
having tusks measuring four and a half feet in length, and one and a
half in circumference near the head. These animals, with the
antediluvial rein-deer, and horse of a large size, and myriads of broken
bones, were found by Mr. Koch last May, near the sulphur springs, at
Little Rock creek, twenty-two miles south of St. Louis. They were in a
valley surrounded by high cliffs; this great deposit of bones forming an
‘osseous brescia, such as is found upon the east coast of the
Mediterranean sea.’ ‘The lower strata upon whose surface these bones
were deposited,’ says Mr. Koch in his written description which he gave
us, ‘consists of a bluish sand resembling that which is often found upon
the bottom of the Mississippi.’ These bones were cemented in a layer of
gravel one and a half feet in thickness. The cement is calcareous, of a
yellow grey color, containing saltpeter. It combines the bones and
gravel together, so that it is with the greatest difficulty they can be
separated; this layer is covered with a crust of chrystalization. The
next strata is composed of small pieces of rock, and bones, broken, and
in some instances ground to powder; these rocks are limestone, some of
them weighing several tons. The next strata is blue clay from two to
four feet in thickness, containing few bones; this clay is covered with
broken rocks again, above which is the soil covered with trees. The
whole mass makes a hill, sloping down from the rocky bluff, of thirty or
forty feet, to the creek. Mr. Koch is of opinion these animals herded
together, and sought shelter under these cliffs during some great
convulsion of nature, and here met their death by being crushed by
crumbling rocks, and covered with debris. Here we saw also the remains
of that animal which I mentioned in one of my former letters as having
been killed by human hands. Beneath it had been built a fire of wood,
and around it were Indian axes, and large pieces of stone which had been
thrown at it as if for the purpose of killing it. The animal had
evidently been mired and killed by the inhabitants. This is a discovery
of great importance, proving the mastodon, according to Indian
tradition, had lived since the deluge. He showed us the elephant fish,
or spoonbill, taken from a lake in Illinois, which was saturated with
oil, although it had been cleaned and dried several years; also some
live specimens of prairie animals--the wolverine, the prairie wolf, and
the marmot or prairie dog, a small grey animal, famous for dwelling in
the same nest with the prairie owl. You have heard of this prairie dog,
whose villages extend over many acres in the prairies; they burrow under
the ground, having, over the entrance to their hole, a small mound about
two feet high and eighteen inches wide. Charles Lucien Bonaparte says of
them, ‘It is a very odd circumstance that this owl and dog should share
the same habitation, but so it is; and they present an example of unity
which is quite pleasing.’ Another striking feature in the case of these
animals is, they make the same cry, _cheh_, _cheh_, pronounced several
times in rapid succession.

In the afternoon we strolled out to the suburbs of the town to see the
Indian mounds, several of which are grouped together near the river
bank, in the environs of the city. One of them is enclosed within the
grounds of General Ashley, an ornament as rare as it is beautiful. Upon
another is built the city waterworks. Upon one, about twenty feet high,
a truncated cone, covered with soft grass, we seated ourselves, enjoying
the silence, and watching the Mississippi’s flood rolling below us,
while we mused upon the fate and fortunes of these ancient ‘mound
builders.’ The thermometer had stood at ninety-six all day, and we were
glad to escape the heat and dust of the city. The sun had disappeared,
but had left a soft amber radiance upon shore and river, and a purple
haze upon the tops of the distant bluffs of Illinois. While gazing upon
these monuments, and looking at the relics of a lost race which they
contain, we try in vain to pierce the mists of time and answer the ‘who
were they?’ which we ask ourselves. The vast valley between the
Alleghany mountains, and the Rocky or Chippewayan chain, is studded with
these antique mounds, from three feet to two hundred feet in height.
They are generally in the form of a parallelogram except in the
north-west where they take the shape of a cone, and by a late discovery,
in Wisconsin, they are seen taking the figure of men and animals. There
is a human effigy which is one hundred and twenty-five feet long; the
others are rude resemblances to the buffalo, birds, alligator, etc.;
these are all lying down upon the surface of the earth. Our Indian
tribes each take the name of an animal, as fox, beaver, buffalo, etc.,
which custom might have also prevailed with the effigy builders. There
are several grouped together here, around the one upon which we are
sitting, and several upon the Illinois shore opposite. These last
consist of small ones surrounding a larger one, which has a
circumference of six hundred yards at the base, and is ninety feet in
height; half way down the side is a step, or platform, cut into the hill
about fifteen feet wide. It is called Monk’s hill, from the circumstance
of its having been the residence of some monks of La Trappe, who, during
the troubles of the revolution, fled to this country and built a house
upon this mound. Here they kept a garden and supported themselves
selling its produce at St. Louis, and by repairing clocks and watches.
Their penances were very severe. What an illustration of Shakspeare,
‘patience on a monument,’ were these old men while meditating upon a
tumulus in a howling wilderness. In vain we puzzle our brain as to the
cause of these structures, and ask are they erected for mausoleums,
watch towers, or temples? Those which have been opened contain human
remains, ancient pottery, instruments of war, and are evidently places
of sepulchre. Some of them contain rude earthen vases which had been
filled with food for the use of the deceased. In vases discovered in an
Indian sepulchre, near Steubenville, upon the Mingo Bottom, were bones
of turkies, oppossums, &c., which had been placed there, that their
friends might not want food upon their journey to the land of spirits.
Stone pipes are also found, cut out of their sacred red clay of St.
Peters, or steatite greenstone and limestone, some bearing resemblances
to eagle’s or other bird’s heads. Arrow heads of flint or quartz, are
also found with the former article, with idols, silver and copper rings,
and rosaries. You have heard, I suppose, of the circle of mounds around
which is built the town of Circleville, upon the Scioto river, of Ohio.
Here was an ancient city, enclosed by a double wall of earth, with a
ditch between the walls. The walls and ditch occupy nearly seventy feet,
which gives thirty feet as the base of each wall, and ten for the width
of the ditch. This circular town, or it may be fortification, was three
hundred and fifty yards across. A square fort is near this, the walls of
which were twenty feet wide, without any ditch. The fort is three
hundred yards across, and is an exact square. The present town is laid
out on these ancient and venerable works; the court house, built in the
form of an octagon, stands in the centre of the circular fort, and
occupies the spot once covered by a large and beautiful mound, but which
was levelled to make room for the building. This forms the nucleus,
around which runs a _circular street_, with a spacious common between
the court house and street; on this street the principal taverns and
stores are erected, and most of the business done. Four other streets
run out of the circle, like radii from a centre. On the south side of
this circle stands a conical hill, crowned with an artificial mound; a
street has lately been opened across the mound, and in removing the
earth, many skeletons were found in good preservation. A cranium of one
of them was in my possession, and is a noble specimen of the race which
once occupied these ancient walls. It has a high forehead, large and
bold features, with all the phrenological marks of daring and bravery.
Poor fellow, he died overwhelmed by numbers, as the fracture of the
right parietal bone by a battle-axe, and five large stone arrows
sticking in and about his bones still bear testimony.[22]

We must regret the destruction of these mounds, but in consideration of
those which are allowed to remain undisturbed, and of the taste and
fancy displayed by the citizens of Circleville, in laying out their town
among them, we may forgive them. There is an ancient fortification near
the junction of the river Wisconsin with the Mississippi, in the angles
of which mounds are erected. Upon the plantation of Walter Irvin, Esq.,
about ten miles from Natchez, and seven from the Mississippi, is another
very singular group of fortifications and tumuli. If you desire my
opinion, I should decidedly say they were erected over the slain in
battle. Sometimes they contain but one body, perhaps of some great
chieftain, whom the enemy’s archers have stricken; others are erected
over several bodies, laid in layers, who, as fast as they have fallen,
have been laid upon the mound, the earth placed over them, to receive
another layer, until the tumulus is finished. Where they are grouped
together, and where fortifications remain, the spot may have been the
field of some great battle, whose slaughtered ranks required many mounds
to cover them. We know it was the custom of eastern nations to erect
mounds over the dead. The army of Alexander erected over the body of
Demeratus a monument of earth eight cubits high and of vast
circumference. Semiramis raised a mound to the memory of Ninus. We read
of their erection by the Babylonians in their trenches, during sieges.
Who were the people that erected these tumuli is wrapped in mystery
which I shall not endeavor to penetrate, but refer you to Delafield’s
Antiquities of America, who seems to have discovered much in the Mexican
records, which throws light upon the subject. It is his opinion they
were Sycthians who crossed to this country over Behring’s Straits, and
these people were once the builders of the tower of Babel, and dwelt
upon the plains of Shinar. When dispersed by the confusion of tongues, a
portion of them wandered through Tartary to the ocean, and there
crossed, and gradually passed down the North American continent, to
Mexico and Peru. He deduces his evidence from, 1st. Philology--as
three-fifths of the American dialects resemble the language of northern
Asia, two-fifths the Coptics, and others the Sycthian; which last he
traces in the tribes of South American, and the others to the North
American savages: 2nd, Anatomy, which proves ‘there is much resemblance
between the cranium of the race of the mounds and ancient Peru, with
those of the modern Hindoos;’ mythology and hieroglyphics, architecture,
manners and customs. The pyramids of Mexico, Peru, our country and the
Sycthian nations, are the same, with little variation; some of earth,
and others of stone. Mr. Delafield gives a plan of a building used as a
receptacle of the remains of the princess Tzapotee in Mexico, which much
resembles some of the ruins in Ohio. This is called Mignitlan, the place
of desolation. In the article upon manners and customs, he relates the
discovery of some shells of the pyrula perversa in a tumulus, which are
used in Asia at religious ceremonies, and only found upon the coasts of
Ilindostan. He traces these nations from the plains of Shinar to
Tartary, where are numerous mounds, some in groups as they are found
here, all containing bodies, with idols and implements of war,
provisions, &c. In his interesting book, he exhibits the celebrated
Aztec map, upon which by hieroglyphical figures their course is traced
from Behring’s Straits to Mexico and Peru. Among other figures we see
there a boat, rowed by a man, meaning crossing the water; a large tree,
indicating their arrival from the icy regions to a fertile land; a
rushing river, telling of the Mississippi; and lastly, a Mexican plant,
denotes their arrival in that land. Surrounding, and between these
figures, are hieroglyphics signifying battles, towns built, sacrifices,
councils, feasts, &c., and the number of years that the tribe remained
in one place. He has sustained his hypothesis very ably, and yet we may
say, with Schoolcraft, this is a race ‘whose origin, whose history and
whose annihilation live only in conjecture.’ It is to be hoped the
citizens of St. Louis are aware of the treasures enclosed within the
city and will take measures for their preservation--the place would be
capable of much ornament as a public garden. As our country becomes
settled these interesting reliques will be destroyed if care be not
taken to prevent it. Their number may give us an idea of the myriads who
once roved over these plains, and we may say, while passing through the
regions of the west, we are travelling over a ‘buried world.’ Beside
these races, the Spanish, French, English, and Americans have lived and
died here.

The city of St. Louis which is now so filled with Americans that it is
rapidly assuming an American appearance, was once inhabited by French
alone. The founder M. Auguste Choteau was alive when La Fayette visited
here, but very aged. When young, enterprising, and ardent, he led the
expedition which in seventeen hundred and sixty four ascended the river
to found a city. He selected the site and with his own axe struck down
the first tree; houses soon arose, and the limestone rocks around, as if
by magic, were transformed into ware houses. As the French influence in
the country was lost, the town stood still until the American emigrants
flowed in, and since then it has rapidly arisen to its present
flourishing state, doing a business of six millions of dollars annually.
St Louis is the capitol of the far west, and must continue to increase.
It is the central point of the great valley of the Mississippi which
extends two thousand five hundred miles in width from the Alleghany or
Apalachian mountains to the Chipewayan; and three thousand miles in
length. It is seated upon a noble river, by which it is only three days
voyage to the Mexican gulf,--only eighteen miles from the mouth of the
grand Missouri, thirty six from the great artery of Illinois and two
hundred from the Ohio, through whose waters it has access to every
portion of the States. Behind it is a noble region of land watered by
magnificent rivers, abounding in metals, coal and stone quarries,
covered by a rich soil, and blessed with a mild climate.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 14th._--The morning being fine we were advised to take some of the
fashionable drives, and accordingly sat out for the Prairie House. The
citizens could not choose a pleasanter place to enjoy fresh air and
verdure. As we left the city, we passed several handsome country seats,
and then found ourselves in the prairie, which is of the species of land
called ‘barren,’ covered with dwarf oak, crab apple, hazel bushes and
prairie plums. The road wound through copses, and tufts of shrubbery for
three miles when we arrived at the Prairie House, which is a pretty
building, surrounded by shade trees and gardens. After cooling ourselves
with ice creams, we re-entered the carriage and drove three miles
further to the Sulpher Springs. Leaving the coach at the door of a
large house, we descended a deep dell, shaded by weeping elms, immense
oaks, and beeches, among which ran a brook ‘that to the sleepy woods all
night singeth a quiet tune.’ The water was bright and sparkling, but
very nauseous, and tasted to my companion like the Harrowgate waters.
The walks around this stream are very pleasant, and must be quite
refreshing to the tired and heated citizen. There is much company here
during the summer. We took another road home, and passed through a fine
prairie the commencement of the celebrated Florisante prairie which
stretches from St Louis to the Missouri. Although trees were grouped
upon the plains, we passed several spots,

    “All paved with daisies and delicate bells,
    As fair as the fabulous Asphodels.”

In returning we passed a load of fine looking coal, which, we were told,
came from Manchester, a small town a few miles distant.

At two o’clock we went on board the steamboat Monsoon, in which we were
to go to Cincinnati. Every minute we expected to go, but hour after hour
passed away and still we did not move. To our questions the captain gave
several reasons for the delay which seemed very vexatious to him. We
endured the day, as hot as it was, by amusing ourselves with reading,
writing, looking at the opposite shores, which we should have visited by
means of the steam ferry boats which were crossing continually to
Illinois town, had we not imagined we were soon to depart--and in
watching the busy crowds upon the wharf, among whom was an old negro
before an auction store attracting customers by ringing a bell instead
of using a red flag as with us--but when night came, and we were obliged
to pass it in our hot narrow berths, among mosquetoes which no net would
keep off--listening to the noise and profane converse of the crew of the
boats around, and imbibing the perfume of a dock, we became very much
vexed and very impatient to be on our way.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 15th._ It was ten o’clock this morning before we started, and then
discovered it was the arrival of a large party of St Louis fashionables
which had kept us stationary, and who, instead of coming as expected,
chose to remain to attend a party that night.

We, who had been used to the punctuality of our eastern cities, where
the captain stands, watch in hand, to give the signal for moving at the
appointed moment, were extremely annoyed at such proceedings; but before
we grumble too much it may be as well to look upon the other side of the
question. The steamers upon these rivers make long voyages, and require
much freight, and passengers, to pay their expenses.

From St. Louis to Cincinnati is eight-hundred miles, for which we were
to pay twelve dollars each, and finding only a few passengers engaged,
the captain waited for this party, hoping in the meanwhile, some of the
upper steam-boats would arrive, and bring him some more freight, or
passengers. The only thing we could reasonably complain of was his bad
faith, if he had openly told us, the state of the case, we should have
quietly remained in our hotel, awaiting his summons; instead of placing
the delay to the broken machinery, some hands missing, provisions not
arrived, &c., off at last amids the shouted adieu from the motley crew
of Negro, French, Spaniard, and Yankee, which lined the guards of the
long range of steam-boats, lying along the front of the city. There are
one hundred and sixty steam-boats plying between this city and other
ports. The city and its spires now fades away; and we station ourselves,
in a favorable position for beholding this famous country. The Illinois
shore is low, covered with forest, and is the rich part of the State,
which was called by the Spaniards, American bottom, bottom land being
the alluvion which is found upon the river shores between the water and
the bluffs, and which is usually overflowed at high water. A feature
peculiar to the county is, the land nearest the river is highest owing
to the constant deposit, and when the water retires lakes are left along
the low land, which gradually dry away. This bottom extends from the
Kaskaskiah river to the mouth of the Missouri, two miles from Alton,
eighty miles--and from one half to two miles in length to the bluffs
which bound it, containing two hundred and eighty-eight thousand square
acres. The soil is of inexhaustible fertility, averaging from twenty to
twenty-five feet. Coal is abundant in this alluvion, and in the bluffs.
This is carried to St. Louis in great quantities, over the railroad, to
Illinois town. The Missouri side rises into high limestone bluffs, upon
which is built near the city, Jefferson barracks, a fine quadrangular
building, containing fifteen hundred United States troops, and a few
miles farther Herculaneum, having at the edge of the cliff a high shot
tower. Near this tower is a bowlder of vermiculae limestone fifty feet
by three hundred. Through a cleft in the rocks comes rushing down the
clear bright Maramec. It takes rise among hills covered with pine trees,
so valuable in this region. Its banks are rich with lead, iron and salt,
and has formerly been a favorite haunt of the Indian tribes from the
quantity of pottery, bones, and arrow heads found there. Behind these
cliffs commences the celebrated lead region, where such quantities are
exported. The mineral region of Missouri, Iowa, and Wisconsin, are
stated by Dr. Owen, the State geologists, to be capable of producing
more of this article than the whole of Europe. Missouri sends some to
China, and has exported this year, to that country, five hundred pigs of
lead, to be used for lining tea chests. The rocks appear broken up in
odd fantastic shapes, taking the name of devil’s tea table, backbone
oven, grand tower, etc. This last in a tall solitary rock, about one
hundred feet high, covered by a tuft of cedars, its stratification as
distinct as if it was a stone tower. The cornice rocks are a ledge which
runs along the top of the bluffs for nearly ten miles. These rocks are
said by geologists, to have been once the barrier of a large lake or
inland sea, over them poured another niagara, which, wearing through
them, caused their jagged appearance. When it burst through, it carried
with it and deposited that enormous mass of alluvion which extends an
hundred miles into the gulf of Mexico. The rock along this shore is
mostly a blue compact limestone, thought by Schoolcraft to be the muscle
kalck of the Germans; sometimes it occurs fœtid. Near the city of St.
Louis, in this limestone, were found the impressions of two human feet,
as if the person had stood upon it while soft. The impressions were
perfect, and were not sculptured in the rock. This slab was cut out and
taken to New Harmony, upon the Wabash.

The scenery I am attempting to describe is very beautiful and varied.
The broad river, about a mile wide carries us rapidly along from
promontory to point, crowned by a village, ever showing us new beauties.
The high wall at our right hand is not a mere line of rocks, but
supports the land which commences from their summits, as if the river
once flowing at that height had gradually worn its way down. This,
however is not the case, the deep bed having been scooped out by
diluvial torrents. An amateur of geology at Alton, has another theory,
and attributes the location and course of their rivers to fissures in
the coal measures. One side of the fractured strata is raised and the
other depressed, so that perpendicular rocks do not appear upon both
sides of the rivers. Whether this be the cause of their direction I know
not; but that the cliffs occur upon but one side of the stream, I
observed upon the Illinois and Mississippi. St. Genevieve, which we
passed this afternoon, is one of those old French towns, which were
built during the sway of France over these fertile regions. We stopped
at the landing where are a few houses, while the village is a short
distance up the Gabouri creek, upon which it is built. We could see the
steep slate roofed French houses, neatly white-washed; the court house
and catholic church, whose cross glittered in the afternoon sun. Beside
the river is a fertile portion of land which was allowed to the town by
the Spaniards as _common land_ upon which was raised the produce for
town consumption. The town once stood here beside the Mississippi, but
as the bank began to crumble away they removed farther inland. About
thirty miles in the interior are the celebrated iron mountains, formed
of micaceous iron ore. The pilot knob is three hundred and one feet
high, with a base of a mile in circumference. The iron occurs here in
masses of several tons weight. The other hill is three hundred and fifty
feet high, both ores yielding eighty per cent. Near the town is a quarry
of fine white marble, and a deposit of dazzling white sand which is sent
to Pittsburgh and sold to the glass factories. This is one of the ports
from which the iron and lead is shipped.

Kaskaskia is another French town nearly opposite this place, but being
built four miles up the Kaskaskia river, we could only see its landing.
It was settled by La Salle in 1683, and was supported by the Indian fur
trade, and afterwards by flour, exporting in 1746, eight hundred weight
to New Orleans. There is here a catholic nunnery. The Kaskaskia river is
a fine stream which runs into the Mississippi, a short distance above
St. Genevieve upon the Illinois shore. It is four hundred miles long,
but navigable not quite a hundred, owing to obstructions which could,
with small expense, be cleared away. Some of the best land in the State
is upon its banks.

Chester is a small town a few miles beyond it, seated at the foot of a
high range of cliffs. Although small in appearance it carries on a brisk
trade, its exports by steamboat being, in 1836, one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars. Among other manufactories is one for making castor
oil. Near this is fort Chartres, built by the French in 1720, to defend
themselves against the Spaniards. It was a fine specimen of the style
of Vaubon, and built in the most solid manner, but now lies in ruins,
having large trees growing upon its prostrate walls.

At the mouth of Big Muddy river, forty miles below Kaskaskia, we stopped
to take in wood, and we went on shore to take an evening stroll. The
French named this stream _riviere au vase_, from a vase of earthen ware
discovered upon its banks. There is much good coal upon its shores. We
wandered through the ‘the forest’s leafy labyrinth,’ wondering at the
great size, and luxuriant foliage of the trees. The locust here grows to
the height of eighty or ninety feet; the beeches, oaks, and sycamores,
are enormous. The parsimon grows larger here than with us. We also
observed the Chickasaw plum, the pawpaw, and cotton tree. We seated
ourselves upon the bank of the river, and looked upon it with wonder as
it came rushing wildly past, much like a stream which has just plunged
over some high ledge of rocks. Upon its bosom it bears a forest of
trees, some old and water-worn, shorn of their honors, and some torn
away in all the glory and beauty of their youth. The water comes with
such velocity that it tears away the earth from one side of the river
carrying it to the other, thus constantly changing the shape of the
shores, and varies its channel so that the navigator is often puzzled to
find his course.

I am glad I have looked upon the Mississippi. To read of it and to see
it are two different things. All these wondrous works of the Creator
give us clearer ideas of his power and his goodness. It is indeed an
extraordinary sight--a river over three thousand miles long, and from a
mile to one and a half miles wide, traversing eighteen degrees of
latitude through various climates, from the arctic to the equator, over
‘more degrees of latitude than any other river in the world.’ Some
writers call this river the Miss Sipi, ‘father of waters,’ while others
tell us its name is Namæsi Sipu, Tish river. It flows from Itasca lake,
a transparent cool reservoir of water, fifteen hundred feet above the
gulf of Mexico, a clear beautiful stream; plunges over the falls of St.
Anthony, and then, a broad river one mile and a half wide, it sweeps in
long regular bends through a wide valley adorned with varied scenery,
until it enters the gulf of Mexico. Sometimes it is lined with bluffs
from one hundred to four hundred feet high, or a soft green prairie,
sloping banks, impenetrable marshes, large cities, and pretty villages.
The clay which the Missouri brings with it is heaped upon the shores, or
in a pile at the bottom of the river, upon which a snag, a long trunk of
a tree is flung, which, standing upright, pierces the bottoms of
vessels; or as a sawyer, rises and falls, to strike the unfortunate bark
which happens to pass over it. The danger from these is, however, much
diminished by the ingenuity of Captain Henry M. Shreve, who has
contrived a machine worked by steam, by means of which, when the water
is low, he raises the snags and sawyers from the river. We were told he
this year extracted fifteen hundred, besides tearing away from the banks
many thousands which were ‘topling to a fall.’ It seems a hopeless task
to pull away the hanging trees from the wooded shores of a river three
thousand one hundred and sixty miles long, whose banks are constantly
undermined by the waters; besides the Ohio which runs twelve hundred
miles; and when these are cleared the mad Missouri coming down over
three thousand miles through a forest clad country, continually sends
down fresh victims which it has wrenched from their homes, to consign in
all the ‘pride of life’ to destruction. As if not content with the
mischief, the Mississippi sometimes takes a fancy to make a _cut off_;
instead of following the curve or bend which it has made into the
country for perhaps twenty miles, it dashes with fury against the earth
in front until it cuts its way through and reaches its former channel,
tearing away with it houses, lands, and whatever had stood in its path.
This malicious conduct the Indians impute to its enmity to the white
man, and fills up its channel, plants snags and sawyers to vex and to
wreck him. The earthquake in the year 1811, the year in which Fulton
launched the first boat upon the western waters, they say was caused by
their Manitou, to frighten the white man away from his country. The
earthquake was felt in many places slightly, but at New Madrid, upon the
Mississippi, it was very severe. Houses and chimneys were thrown down;
land raised for some distance down the river, and in many places it
cracked apart vomiting up fire and red hot sand. Lakes were formed of
miles in length which still remain. The introduction of steam is fast
conquering all obstacles. Before its introduction three or four months
were employed in voyages where now it is done in so many weeks. The
flat-boat floated upon the tide, or pushed along with poles; and when a
point was to be cleared the crew landed, and fastening ropes to the
trees drew their bark along; this process was called _cordelling_.
There are now upon these waters four hundred and thirty-seven
steamboats, from thirty to seven hundred and eighty-five tons, besides
flat and keel boats, but no sloops or sail boats, except an occasional
sail put up by the keel boats. These boats are very different from those
used upon our eastern waters. Our cabins and saloon you know are upon
the same deck with the machinery, and dining rooms below, while above is
a fine long promenade deck. When you enter one of these boats you step
upon the lowest deck, having the machinery in the centre, while the ends
are covered with freight, or deck passengers who cannot pay the cabin
fare. Ascending a stair-way you find yourself upon the guards, a walk
extending all around the boat like a narrow piazza, from which several
doors open into the rooms. The whole deck here is thrown into three
apartments; the ladies cabin at the stern having state-rooms around it,
opening upon the deck or into the cabin; from this folding doors lead
into the dining-room surrounded with gentlemen’s berths; beyond is the
bar-room, from which you pass into an open space where, around two smoke
pipes, the male passengers assemble to smoke and chat. The ladies cabin
is handsomely furnished with every convenience, and in some instances
with a piano. Above this is yet another deck called the hurricane deck.
This is the best situation for viewing the scenery, were it not for the
steam-pipe which, as these are high pressure boats, sends out the steam
with a loud burst, like a person short of breath.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 16th._--I arose with the dawn, to obtain a peep at the junction
of the Ohio with the Mississippi. We turned from the wide Mississippi
and its turbid waters, into the glassy Ohio, around a point of land upon
which is built the town of Cairo. The land is low here, and subject to
inundations, but it is expected the art of man will overcome this, and
Cairo, at the junction of these two great rivers, will become a large
city. The central railroad is to commence here, which will cross
Illinois to Galena, from thence to the Mississippi river, a distance of
four hundred and fifty-seven and a half miles. There are several other
towns upon, and near this point, as America, Unity, Trinity, and Fulton,
where a statue to the great steamboat projector will be erected. A
little farther on is another village, called Caledonia.

Our passengers consist of a party of fashionables, on a jaunt of
pleasure to the Sulphur Springs, of Virginia; some travelling merchants,
and several persons visiting the towns upon the river. A state room was
observed to be constantly closed, and a young man about twenty, who
occasionally came from it, squeezed himself in, as if afraid his
companion would be seen from without. The curiosity of the young ladies
was soon excited, and by means of the chambermaid they ascertained it
was the young man’s wife, a young girl, apparently about fourteen, who
was thus carefully secluded. A run-away match was immediately whispered
about; the young people became quite in a fever to obtain a glimpse of
the fair heroine. It was a long time ere their wish was gratified, as
she never left her room, taking even her meals there. Our mornings on
board are generally very social, the ladies sitting with the gentlemen
of their party upon the guards, or gathering in groups with their work,
while the male passengers are smoking, talking politics, or gambling.
The negro banjo, and merry laugh, or joke, of some son of Erin, echoes
up from the lower deck; but in the afternoon the siesta is the fashion,
and every one turns in his berth to take a nap. I did not follow this
custom, as I was unwilling to lose any of the scenery, so that I usually
stole out of my state room, like a mouse from its hole, and after a long
look up and down the river, stole in again, the heat being too great to
allow of a long stay. Yesterday afternoon, oppressed with thirst and
with heat, for the thermometer on board stood at ninety-six, I went into
the ladies’ cabin in search of water, a jar of which filled with lumps
of ice, was placed upon a marble table in one corner of the cabin. The
ladies were all in their berths except two, who were using every ‘means
and appliance,’ to keep themselves cool. They were each in a rocking
chair kept in motion, their feet upon an ottoman, made a table for their
books, while a large feather fan in one hand, and a lump of ice in
another, were tolerable arms against the fire king. Miss Martineau
expatiates upon the indifference of our females to the scenery of
nature, and I dare say, she would place these two upon her list of nil
admirari ladies, but travellers are very apt to look upon the surface of
things; these ladies, and indeed almost all we meet in steamboats, have
been so often over the scene, that they know it by heart, and need not
brave heat and storms to see it, as a stranger would. Our people are a
restless body, and men, women and children are always upon the move. As
thirsty as I was, I hesitated to drink the thick muddy water, for while
standing in our tumblers, a sediment is precipitated of half an inch. Oh
how I longed for a draught of cool spring water, or a lump of Rockland
lake ice! While drinking, one of the ladies advanced for the same
purpose. ‘Dear me! what insipid water!’ she said, ‘it has been standing
too long. I like it right thick.’ I looked at her in surprise. ‘Do you
prefer it muddy, to clear?’ I asked. ‘Certainly I do,’ she replied, ‘I
like the sweet clayey taste, and when it settles it is insipid. Here
Juno!’ calling to the black chambermaid who was busy ironing, ‘get me
some water fresh out of the river, with the true Mississippi relish.’
Every one’s back is indeed fitted to his burden. This person had lived
upon the banks of the Mississippi, had drank its waters all her days,
and now it required to be muddy ere it was palateable. The chambermaid
descended to the lower deck, where a gallant black beau drew a bucket
from the river, and after satisfying the lady, she resumed her ironing.
Against this practice of ironing in the ladies cabin I must uplift my
voice. I suffered from this annoyance upon the Illinois, Mississippi and
Ohio. Constantly there was a woman washing upon the lower deck, where
the water thrown from the wheel, falls upon the deck in a pretty
cascade, and another is ironing above. All the ironing of the boat, and
crew, and often of the passengers, is done in the ladies small sitting
room, the steam and perfume of the wet clothes, charcoal furnace and of
the ironer is extremely disagreeable. In one instance I knew this to be
the case all night, the girls taking it by turns; and I never travelled
one day without this addition to the heat and other discomforts of a
steamboat. In such long voyages it may be necessary to wash for the
captain and crew, but surely bed and table linen enough might be
provided to reach Cincinnati, where they stop long enough to have them
washed. If not, why may there not be a room in some other part of the
deck. The captain in some instances reaps the profits, as the
chambermaids are his by hire or purchase, and if they charge all as they
did us, one dollar and fifty cents a dozen, the profit must be
considerable. It is sometimes, as in our case, a great convenience to
travellers, but another place should be provided. But to go on with my
afternoon adventures. I left the cabin and walked out upon the shady
side of the guards. All was still except the booming steampipe; every
one was asleep or reading. I leaned over the railing and found the banjo
player and his audience all in slumbering attitudes, or swinging in
their hammocks, and every thing denoted silence and repose. Suddenly a
terrific and astounding bang, clang and clatter, as if the boat had been
cracked to atoms, the wheel house was broken in pieces, the boards flew
over me, and a torrent of water flowing from it nearly washed me from
the deck. In a moment every one tumbled out and rushed upon the deck
exclaiming, ‘what’s the matter?’ ‘are we snagged’--‘has the boiler
burst’--‘is it a sawyer.’ The old Kentucky lady who had stepped out
first, took her pipe from her mouth and said quietly, ‘It’s only a log;’
‘Oh, only a log;’ ‘nothing but a log,’ echoed from every mouth, and
returning to their cabins they all stepped into their berths again. I
looked around me in amazement. ‘Only a log!’ said I to myself and what
is a log. The steamboat is broken and stops, all is confusion and crash,
and I am told it is nothing but a log. ‘Madam,’ said I, turning to the
Kentucky woman, ‘will you have the goodness to tell me what a log is.’
‘There they are,’ she said, pointing with her pipe to the river.
Floating along like so many alligators, were long branchless trunks,
which had been wafted along thousands of miles from the Rocky Mountains
perhaps. ‘But, pardon me madam, how are these logs able to create such a
disturbance?’ ‘You seem a _stranger_ child,’ she replied; ‘as these are
floating along, and we are riding among them, what more natural than
that they should get in the water wheel, break it, and stop the boat.
But see, the carpenters are already at work, and I dare say they will
have it repaired in the course of two or three hours.’ So saying she
knocked the ashes out of her pipe, took off her cap, and passed into her
state room, to sleep away the hours we were doomed to pass under a July
southern sun inactive. The most remarkable event connected with this
accident, was the discovery of the fair unknown of the closed
state-room. When the noise was first heard, the young man rushed out,
bearing a plump rosy young girl in his arms who, as soon as he put her
down, began to tell the beads of a long rosary which hung from her neck.
One glance sufficed to tell him the nature of the accident, and he left
her to walk towards the wheel house just as the Kentucky lady
disappeared. Seeing the poor thing’s agitation, I turned towards her and
endeavored to sooth her. ‘I thank the Virgin Mary it is no worse,’ she
said kissing her cross, ‘but something dreadful will come to punish my
wickedness. Oh how could I leave my dear mother Abbess and the sisters!’
Stopping suddenly she gazed around her in affright, for she had
unconsciously said more than she intended. ‘Oh dear, what am I saying!’
she exclaimed ‘where is Edward, why did he leave me!’ I soon succeeded
in soothing her, and when I related my conversation with the old woman,
she laughed merrily at my ignorance. Her young husband returned, and was
so delighted to see her cheerful, that he immediately drew chairs, we
all sat down and were soon as social as old friends. I was much amused
with the surprise of my companion who had come in search of me, when he
saw me upon such familiar terms with this mysterious couple. The little
creature seemed delighted to escape from her confined quarters, and
relished a little chat so much that she this morning came to my room,
and sat some time with me. We passed this morning several islands, one
of them containing ten thousand acres, which, with the rocky shores of
Illinois, make the scenery very pleasing. Paducah, upon the Kentucky
side at the mouth of the Tennessee, is a small town seemingly solidly
built of brick, but chiefly interesting from the romantic story attached
to it. It takes its name from an Indian heroine, who was here sacrificed
in revenge by a party of Pawnees. Fort Massac is a few miles below it
which was taken from the French by an Indian stratagem. The Indians
dressed in bear skins, made their appearance in the vicinity of the
fort, which enticed the Frenchmen out for a chase, when another band
rushed into the fort and took it. All were massacred. From thence to the
mouth of the Cumberland river the shores seem uncultivated, as the
settlements are back from the river, but we were compensated by a
glorious show of trees, vines and foliage of every hue. The sycamore
here grows to enormous height, sixty or seventy feet, full of branches;
these great branches stretch up eighty feet higher and spread out all
around it. The white of its trunk and limbs has a very pretty effect
among the green forests. The white maple is also a beautiful ornament to
the groves, its leaves being a bright green, but every breeze stirring
among them displays the brilliant white lining. Its trunk is silvery
hue.

Upon the Kentucky side of the river we have the pretty yellow locust,
the hackberry with its dark foliage, the mulberry, juneberry, with its
red fruit, and leaves lined with silvery down, and above all the tall
and graceful cotton wood tree, popular angulati, whose bright green
foliage is very beautiful in contrast. The groves of this tree are very
ornamental to a landscape. Among these trees upon both shores, we
observed the brilliant bignonia radicans or Virginia creeper, which
mounted to the tops of the highest trees, and swinging down, arranged
itself in graceful festoons, adorned with its pretty scarlet, trumpet
shaped flowers. The river is more placid than our last, but is not yet
free from the defilement of the Mississippi, and takes a yellowish
tinge. Golconda we passed about twelve o’clock, upon the Illinois side,
a small town, remarkable for nothing but its fiery red brick court
house, with a cupola. There is a small settlement at the mouth of the
Cumberland river, before which was a row of steamboats, which were in
waiting for the rise of the river, to ascend to Nashville, in Kentucky,
which lies upon this river. Illinois, as if wishing to leave a good
impression upon us at parting, rises in masses of limestone, presenting
every variety of scene, overhanging cliffs, promontory, walls, and
castellated appearances, being the foundation of the State, for at the
summit the ground continues in a plain to the lakes. Sometimes our
course lay so near these rocks, that we could distinguish the flowers
spring from the crevices, and the chrystal rills which jumped from rock
to rock. This destroyed the illusion of towers and turrets, but we were
compensated by being able to examine the limestone which presented
various shades from the yellow clay marl to the compact and blue
limestone and light solite. A large cave runs under these rocks, the
mouth of which is surrounded by a grove of graceful cypresses, which
tree we have observed occasionally upon the shore, before and after
this. The mouth of the cave is an arch about thirty feet high. This cave
has in the time of the flat boats been a sort of tavern, where the crew
and passengers have waited sometimes for days, in a storm. It was once
also a robbers’ haunt. Many persons, anxious to descend to posterity,
have cut their names upon the rock, and taken from the wildness and
seclusion of the scene by large black letters, but I shall not minister
to their ambition by writing their names. Shawnee town, is a place of
considerable importance in the southern part of Illinois. It stands upon
a plain, elevated from the river, with a back ground of bluffs, and
seems a considerable place. The situation is most beautiful, and it
makes a pretty picture from the river. A band of Indians of the Shawnee
tribe once lived upon this spot, but at the approach of the white men
retired to the western plains beyond the Mississippi. At Shawnee town,
commences the great saliferous formation which extends through the
valley of the Ohio, to its head waters, and spreads away upon each side
through Ohio and Kentucky, and along the Alleghany mountains. The strata
of this formation consists of sandstone, limestone, coal, argillaceous
rocks, and slate stones, but the peculiar rock from which the salt water
is drawn, is a white calcareous sand rock full of cells and vacant
places, once containing salt. There is also an upper layer of white sand
rock, from which a small quantity is produced.[23] To procure this, the
boring is sometimes carried very deep, several hundred feet, as the
strata generally lie below tide water, in this valley, and some wells
are sunk three hundred feet below the present surface of the ocean.
Where they strike the flint rock strata it is very tedious, the workmen
not being able to bore more than two or three inches in twenty-four
hours. Carburetted Hydrogen gas rises in almost every place where the
salt is found, and wells are often sunk from this evidence alone.
Sometimes the gas comes up with such violence as to drive out the boring
machine, or flows with the water, and again, rushes up in sudden
explosions, at intervals of hours or days, springing up in the air to a
height of a hundred feet. This gas easily takes fire. Petroleom, is also
found accompanying the salt, and is used by the inhabitants for bruises,
or to oil machinery. Filtered through charcoal, it is burned in lamps.
In the country upon the Muskingum river are several deposites of salt
rock, or Muriatiferous rock. In Hockhocking valley, salt is reached by
boring to the depth of five hundred and fifty feet, and at another
place eight hundred feet. Here the water is very pure and strong,
averaging fifteen per cent of muriate of soda, and runs in a constant
stream of twelve thousand gallons in twenty-four hours. Salt is also
found in the Monongahela valley. Upon the Kiskiminitas river, five
hundred thousand bushels are exported annually; it is found upon the
Guyandot, and in the northeastern parts of Kentucky, but the most
extensive salines are upon the Kenawa river where the strata occupy an
extent of twelve or fourteen miles upon the river. Fifty gallons of
water, yield fifty pounds of salt of fine quality. In some places coarse
salt, and in others fine table salt is made. This necessary article was
first discovered by the animals who seem to be very fond of it. The
mastodon, elk, buffalo, and other animals were in the habit of resorting
for it to certain places which retain the name of Lick, as Buffalo Lick,
Big Bone Lick, etc. At the lick upon the Kenawha, the paths worn by
these animals are still visible. For many years salt was brought to the
western valley with great labor over the Alleghany mountains, upon the
backs of horses, and sold for two or three dollars a pound. Now it can
be procured at the salines for half a cent. Around the salines are
fragments of broken pottery and other Indian articles, showing the
aborigines were in the habit of digging for it. Upon Salt creek, near
Shawneetown, is a very ancient salt work, which was once resorted to by
the Indians. Vessels of earthen-ware bearing the impression of a basket
are found there, and one which was evidently used for evaporation is
large enough to contain sixteen gallons. This great deposite of salt
seems to be inexhaustible; for twenty-four years it has been
manufactured at Kenawha, and in these last years one million of bushels
a year, and the supply has not diminished. Two hundred bushels are made
a day. The process used is to convert the water by heat to brine, and
afterwards evaporized.

Ten miles below Shawneetown we pass the mouth of the Wabash, the
boundary line between Illinois and Indiana, a beautiful stream running
six hundred miles through Indiana. Upon the shores of the Ohio near it
are groves of the Pecaun tree, _carya olivæfornis_. It is a beautiful
straight tree, bearing a very pleasant nut. Pecaun, according to
Schoolcraft, is the Chippeway word for nut. At sun down we stopped to
take in wood and to procure milk. As it was rather damp I did not land,
but was much amused with the antics of men and boys, who delighted to
have space, frolicked and jumped about the woods. The southerners in
their thin pink and purple or blue striped coats, added to the gaiety of
the scene. Our steward with his tin kettle entered a small cottage, or
rather log cabin, near, and procured a supply of fresh milk, which we
saw a young country lass draw from their cow she had just driven home.
While our husbands strolled together, my little catholic confided to me
her history, after the fashion of travelling heroines you know. She was
the daughter of a wealthy planter in Kentucky, who, although of the
presbyterian faith, had sent his child to a catholic nunnery to be
educated. She had, as is very common in such cases, become a convert to
the catholic faith, and when her parents came to carry her home,
declared it her intention to take the veil and never leave her convent.
Her parents intreaties and despair were of no use; stay she would, and
did. A convent, however, was not to be her destiny, for she fell in love
with a young gentleman, brother of a friend of her’s at the same
convent, who often came there to see his sister. The attachment being
mutual, they had, with the assistance of the sister, contrived to elope.
They were now on their way to New York, and she was so fearful of being
recognized and brought back, that she would not at first leave her
state-room. ‘Were you not sorry to leave your mother?’ I asked her. ‘Oh
dear yes, she and the sisters were always so kind to me.’ ‘I mean your
mother and your father, not the mother abbess.’ ‘Alas! my parents are
such sad heretics that I ought not to love them. I shall never see them
in the next world, and it is better to be separated here.’ I was shocked
at her answer, but thought the parents were well punished for the
culpable step they had taken in placing their child where she was likely
to embrace a religion different from their own. I wish to say nothing
against the catholic religion, but if parents are unwilling their
children should imbibe its tenets, they certainly do wrong to place them
where they are taught. It is a custom too common in the west and south,
and this is not the first instance I have known of division between
parents and children in consequence.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 17th._--We are now sailing along the coast of Indiana, having bid
adieu to the beautiful State of Illinois, after having travelled through
it and along its coast over eight hundred miles. This State seems to be
endowed by nature with every requisite for the comfort or enjoyment of
life. It is three hundred and eighty miles long and two hundred and
twenty broad. Upon three sides it is bounded by the Mississippi, Ohio,
and Wabash, and upon the fourth by the great lakes; it is crossed by
streams, canals, and roads, and thus is enabled to send its produce in
any direction. The soil which covers it is of inexhaustible fertility,
capable of producing the richest fruits, grains, and vegetables, covered
with woodland and prairie, and abounding with coal, metals, and
quarries. It presents a level plain, inclining gently to the
Mississippi, consisting of thirty-seven million nine hundred and
fifty-two thousand acres.[24] The prairie land occupies two thirds of
the State; the rest is wooded or bottom land. These prairies were once
covered with herds of buffalo, wolves, and panthers; all now, except a
few wolves, are far away over the Mississippi. These grassy pastures are
valuable for cattle, and the soil is easily tilled, and produces trees
where the fire is kept off. All sorts of grain, neat cattle, swine,
horses, tobacco, cotton, and sugar, are raised with ease. The amount of
the productions of this State, according to the tabular statement drawn
up by the United States Marshall, H. Wilton, Esq., is fifty-one million
four hundred and eleven thousand six hundred and six dollars. Take this
account, and the number of its population, four hundred and twenty-three
thousand nine hundred and thirty-four, and then turn to the state of the
country only twenty years since, when it was the home of Indian tribes,
with a few white men scattered over it, and you will obtain some idea of
the sudden increase of the west.

The want of timber and water, as pine is scarce in Illinois, and upon
the prairie there is but little of any kind, has prevented the
settlement of the prairies. It is the opinion of all whom I heard speak
upon the subject, they were the most eligible places of settlement, as
water can be procured at the depth of fifteen or twenty feet, and timber
easily brought over the smooth plains in wagons, while cutting down
forests to clear the land is toilsome, and expensive. The centre of the
prairies is always higher than the skirts, which if it renders them dry,
makes them more healthy places of residence than the dank, humid ground
of a forest. The tobacco, beef, and wheat of Illinois are superior to
that of the neighboring States, and finds a ready sale in the market;
the latter weighing sixty-eight pounds to a bushel.[25] Very good wine
is made there from the sweet grapes which abound in every part of the
State. Coal is found in abundance every where, and will be constantly
discovered; iron and copper occur in some places, while the lead mines
of this State, Wisconsin and Missouri, yield more than the whole of
Europe including England. It is generally a foliated glittering
sulphuret found in cubical crystals, yielding fifty per cent. in log
furnaces, and sixteen more after further process. The masses occur in
clay and veins in the rocks. This rich mineral was so near the surface
that the Indians frequently dug it up, and men in want of money were in
the habit of procuring it, sure of a ready sale at St. Louis. The people
of Illinois obtained their nickname of suckers from the practice of
going up the Mississippi when the spring opened for lead, which was the
period of the annual voyage up the river of the Succar fish.
Thirty-three million lbs., was produced in all the lead region last
year. The scenery of the mineral region is very beautiful and is watered
by the Mississippi, Wisconsin, and other rivers. The interests of
religion and education are not neglected; the State has laid aside in
lands and money, three millions for the latter object. Colleges are
being erected, churches are building, and every thing for the comfort
and refinement of life is here in progress. So if you have a mind to
emigrate come to Illinois. We have to-day passed several villages upon
each side of the river, possessing little of interest to write you,
except Hoarsville upon the Kentucky shore, where we stopped a little
while. There is a coal mine in its vicinity. The Indiana shore presents
an elevated bank upon which we continually saw farms and cottages, but
the opposite shore is low and subject to inundation, which gives it a
lonely appearance. Both sides however are adorned with beautiful trees.
Here beside giant beech, walnut and various oaks, were the pretty red
bud, cercis canadensis, the Ulmus Americana, red maple, sassafras,
cornus florida; upon the Kentucky bank, besides extensive groves of
cotton wood, were the basswood, or American lime with its yellow
tassels, the gum, American nettle with its red berries, June berry and
an endless variety of others, beautiful and rare. Fairy isles are
occasionally passed, covered with pretty shrubs and flowers and fringed
with the soft bushy willow called here _tow_. Indiana shows many pretty
villages, embowered among her trees, or scattered along her sloping
banks, and we have to-day passed Troy, Evansville, Rockport, Rome,
Fredonia, Manchport, while the other side, Westport is quite a
conspicuous and pleasing town, situated upon a high bluff, its houses
perched like eagles nests, upon the high points of the cliff, while the
brick court-house stands upon the bank beneath. The river upon both
sides had for many miles back, presented a succession of these bluffs,
wild and rugged, but after leaving Rockport, the rocks become more like
regular hills, rising gradually to a high summit, cone shaped, covered
with lofty trees and a carpet of verdure. We here saw that singular
feature of Ohio shore scenery, the hills upon one shore faced with a
level plain upon the opposite shore. Each shore presents a succession of
hill and valley, the hills on one side being opposed to the valley of
the other. As if, while the river ran from east to west, the strata
crossed it N. E. and S. W., a rupture in these would leave room for the
river. This agrees with the theory of our Alton friend, that the
location and course of this river was caused by a rupture in the coal
measures. The boys upon the Ohio have imitated the Illinois ducks in
their pastime, of which I wrote you; when our boat has passed, they push
off the shore into the agitated water of our wake, and seem to take much
pleasure in bobbing up and down. We sailed under cliffs this afternoon
of rough, rugged, jagged limestone, with precipices and romantic dells,
quite sufficient to satisfy a whole boarding school of romantic misses.
The setting sun cast his shadows far over the river, leaving us in
shade, while far above the trees which fringed the cliffs were painted
with gold. A ray piercing through a vista in the rocks, fell upon the
windows of the pretty town of Evansville, tipping its spires with
burnished gold, lighting up the windows, as if each house kept high
festival. Tint after tint of all this glory has faded, and see, the
river is white with mist now rising high above the trees. After the
intense heat of the day this strikes you with a chill, and they who know
its fatal effects hasten within--reluctantly I follow them and bid you
good night.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 18th._--We are now approaching the falls of the Ohio, which are
rapids caused by a ledge of blue limestone rocks, which here cross the
river, and impede the navigation except in very high water. To avoid
this, a canal is cut across the bend of the river, two and a half miles
in length to Louisville. This canal is excavated out of the compact
limestone, and the cut is in some places ten feet deep. There are four
locks. The amount of tolls received here from eighteen hundred and
thirty-one to eighteen hundred and thirty-seven, was, according to Judge
Hall, four hundred and seventy-five thousand twenty-five dollars and
fourteen cents, and he gives a list of four hundred and seventeen
steamboats which passed through the canal during the year eighteen
hundred and thirty seven.

There is a small place called Shipping Port, at the mouth of the canal,
where we observed several handsome carriages in waiting, for those who
thus preferred it, to the slower operation of ascending twenty-two feet
of lockage. Here were several steamboats moored. As we entered the
second lock, the North Star, a fine boat, of one hundred and forty-eight
tons came dashing into the lock we had left, and when we had both
ascended, the Maine, which we had passed upon the river yesterday,
entered the first lock, so that we had the novel spectacle of three
large steamboats, filled with merchandize and passengers, all at one
time rising and falling in several locks. The locks are large enough for
first class boats, and the whole of the canal is finished in the most
solid and beautiful manner. It is fifty feet wide at surface. No horses
are used, we passed through by steam. The strata cut through at the
canal presented, 1st. friable slate three inches; five feet of fetid
limestone, containing petrifactions, water lime, blue limestone, compact
grey limestone, with nodules of quartz and limestone. The water lime was
used by the workmen. Cedar trees were dug up, human bones and _fire
places_. When we had left the canal, we beheld before us the sloping
bank, covered with houses, manufactories, churches, &c. This was
Louisville, the capital of Kentucky, seated upon a gradually rising
bank, commanding a fine view of the river and the Indiana shore
opposite. We landed, and as we had but two hours to remain here, we
immediately entered a coach, and directed the man to drive us through
all the streets, past every remarkable building, and in fact show us all
the lions. My head was out the window a dozen times, calling ‘Driver
what building is that?’ The streets are wide and straight, containing
many handsome buildings. Main street is the principal business street,
and is lined with rows of shops upon each side, for, it seemed to me a
mile, and in the suburbs, iron and cotton factories, steam mills, &c.
The private houses are handsome, and some of the new ones, built of the
native limestone, threaten to rival any in the State. The hotels seemed
calculated to accommodate a large number of travellers. The court house
which is now building, is very large, and when finished will be quite an
ornament to the city. It is an oolite limestone found in Indiana. We
passed a high school, seminary, twelve churches, a theatre, three
markets, and a large building with wings, having a portico in front,
supported with marble columns, which is, we were told, the Marine
Hospital. This city carries on a brisk trade. There are twenty-five
steamboats, over a hundred tons burthen, which ply between this port and
Cincinnati, and New Orleans. Louisville is five hundred and thirty-four
miles from St. Louis, and we have one hundred and thirty-two more to go
to Cincinnati. If we are to believe one of their papers, the cause of
education flourishes, as there has been published, this year, by one
firm, one hundred and thirteen thousand volumes of school books, they
having in these and other works expended sixteen thousand dollars worth
of paper. Our driver stopped at the gate of a public garden, which he
said was a fashionable resort. We peeped in, but were more anxious to
behold works of art than nature, and soon re-entered the carriage, and
finding our time expired, returned to the vessel. Here we were obliged
to wait some time, and in the meanwhile amused ourselves, in examining
the shore. Corn Island, with the rapids glittering in the morning sun,
was upon one side, and upon the other, the town of Jeffersonville, is
situated upon an elevated bank, on the Indiana shore. The buildings are
very showy, being of red brick, and some of them pretty. Steam ferry
boats are constantly passing between this place and Louisville. Corn
Island, is said by the Indians to have been the last stand of the last
of the mound builders, who, they say, were driven away from the country
by their ancestors. I forgot to mention New Albany, which we passed a
few miles beyond Louisville. It is a considerable place, doing much
business, and having several churches, lyceum, schools, and other public
institutions. The heat drove me into the ladies’ cabin, which being
empty, I sat down to put down a few notes. I had scarcely seated myself,
when the young catholic runaway, I mentioned before, rushed in, and
throwing herself beside me, hid her head in my lap exclaiming, ‘Oh, they
are here, my mother, my father! they will separate me from Edward
forever!’ I looked towards the door with much anxiety, for I had heard
the southern planters were a gouging, raw head and bloody bones sort of
people, who whipped a slave to death once a week, and I feared for the
fate of the poor young wife. My information however, had been taken from
foreign tourists, and I found this idea like many others I had imbibed
from them, was far from truth. Imagine my surprise, when a pleasant,
good humored looking man entered the room, and seating himself in a
chair, gave way to a hearty fit of laughter. His wife, a tall, slender,
lady-like looking personage, walked directly up to her daughter, and
folded her in her arms, while gentle tears flowed over her cheeks. I
looked at the father in perplexity, wondering at his extraordinary
merriment, and at Edward who stood beside him, having, I thought, a most
unbecoming smirk upon his countenance. The lady looked up to her husband
reproachfully, but said nothing. ‘My dear madam,’ he said at last to me,
‘I understand you have taken a kind interest in my little girl’s
concerns, and I owe it to you to explain the circumstances of the case.
Anxious to give my daughter the best of education, I sent her to a
convent not far from my estate, where there were some very accomplished
ladies from Europe, who could teach her all I wished her to know. But
when I went to take her home, my lady fancied herself a catholic, and
renounced her home and friends forever. I returned home in despair, and
while revolving my future proceedings in this disagreeable affair,
Edward, the son of a dear friend, who several years since had removed to
New York came to make us a visit. In telling him my difficulties, I
added how glad I should have been, had this not occurred, to give her
and my plantation to him. ‘I will scale the convent and carry her off,’
he said, in a jest. The idea struck me as a good one, I pressed it upon
him, and you see here they are, and have my hearty blessing.’ The bride,
as her father spoke, had gradually dried her tears, and raised her head
a little. When she began to understand the denouement, she first blushed
deeply with mortification, then pouted, and at last burst suddenly into
a merry laugh, and ran like a fawn into her father’s outspread arms,
exclaiming, ‘Oh, you naughty papa! you good for nothing papa!’ The party
soon after departed, and I received kind expressions and adieus from
all, and a few tears from the bride. All pressed us to visit them, and
the father said if we would only come to Big Bloody Bone Buffalo Lick,
he would show us the finest blue grass fields, best corn and tobacco,
and heartiest negroes in all old Kentuck. And if I wanted a nice young
girl to wait upon me, I should have the pick of all his slaves. I was
quite delighted to meet with such a romantic adventure, for I had been
looking out for something, as you must be very tired of hearing about
nothing but trees, and rivers, and towns. Pray do not think I made this
out of my fertile brain, I assure you it is true.

After leaving Louisville the shores become more cultivated upon each
side than they have been. Extensive cornfields, in Indiana, show they
are as great ‘corn-crackers’ as their neighbors. The houses are better
built, and always of brick or limestone, as pine is scarce upon the
Ohio. The Kentucky river empties into the Ohio, about sixty miles above
Louisville; it is a beautiful stream coming down from the Cumberland
mountain, running through high limestone cliffs, and a rich country,
containing salt, coal, and iron, in abundance. It is three hundred and
twenty-five miles long, and upon it stands Frankfort. At its mouth is a
town called Port William, a small place. Kentucky shore, now becomes
more cultivated and its blue grass fields nod in concert to the maize of
the opposite side. Nothing could be prettier than the Ohio as we sailed
along its ‘amber tide’ this day. The yellow marl, which occurs so
frequently along its banks gives it a yellowish tinge. The river looked
as if it had been arranged by the hand of a landscape gardener, so
prettily combined was the grand and beautiful. The trees are so many of
them cultivated with us in our ornamented grounds, that it takes from
the wildness of the scene. Here we saw the locust, the horse-chestnut,
the willow, tulip and column like cotton tree. Among these the Virginia
creeper, grape, and other vines are clustering and swinging in the
summer breeze. Springing from spray to spray was the mocking bird, blue
bird, and brilliant green and red paroquet flashing in the mid-day sun.
Among these are pretty towns, farms, and cottages--the whole having a
back ground of jagged precipice, or smooth swelling hills. Madison, upon
the Indiana shore, is the place where we were to strike the Ohio, if we
had journeyed through Indiana as we proposed at first. A railroad leads
from this town to Indianapolis, ninety-five miles, and is completed to
Vernon, twenty-five miles. From Indianapolis to La Fayette is a
McAdamized road, and another rail-road will soon be completed from the
latter place to lake Michigan. That would have been our route, and we
should have seen some of the best towns in Indiana. Madison is a very
pretty town, and larger than any we had passed. It is built principally
of brick, and we counted six churches and a court house, besides banks,
founderies, factories, mills and boat yards. The streets are wide and
McAdamized. It is situated upon a sloping bank of the river, while
behind it, the hills which rose up to nearly three hundred feet, were
covered with farms, dotted with sheep and cottages. Some handsome
mansions were erected among the hills in conspicuous situations and must
have commanded a fine view of the town beneath, and the river winding
away through bluffs and forests in front of them. The population is
about two thousand. Madison is fifty-three miles from Louisville, and
twenty miles farther is Vevay, settled by a party of emigrants from
Switzerland. The river here stretches away to the north, leaving a point
which is the county of Switzerland, bathed upon two sides by the Ohio,
and containing very fertile soil. Here the transplanted Swiss have made
a new home, and it is a very beautiful one, occupying themselves in
raising grapes. Their vineyards are very flourishing and they make much
good wine. They cultivate the blue grape, Madiera grape, and the native
county grape, which makes good wine. The hills here, no doubt, often
resound with the songs of their father land from which they are so many
miles distant. As we approach the State of Ohio we feel as if we were
returning to a cultivated country, for farms and dwellings, of superior
style, denoting wealth and prosperity, occur frequently upon the shores.
One of them was quite elegant, built of brick, faced with marble, and
adorned with a portico in front, of the same material. Our setting sun
is obscured by dark frowning clouds, which threaten us with a storm. It
comes in whirling spray and wind which makes our stout bark rock under
us, and the terrific thunder out-roars our groaning steam-pipe. In the
course of half an hour it was over, but hundreds of lofty trees had been
swept from the banks and now were floating past us in all their leafy
honors. A sudden stop in our boat’s speed sent us all out to ascertain
the cause. I asked if it were another log, but found the engine had met
with some breakage, which would detain us a little while. The steamboat
was laid by the shore, and took this opportunity to get a supply of
wood. As the evening was mild we left the boat for a stroll, and to say
we had been in Indiana. With some little effort we climbed the cliffs,
and when there, found ourselves in front of a neat farm house surrounded
by barns and orchards. The passengers spread themselves about in every
direction, and we were very much provoked to see some of them wantonly
pulling off the young green apples and throwing them to the hogs for
amusement. I do not know what kind of consciences these people had--I
would as soon have stolen the farmer’s pigs as his apples; but I know
men and boys are always rather lax in their morality towards apple
orchards. Prompted by a Yankee curiosity to see the inside of an Indiana
cottage, I opened the gate, and after passing through a small court-yard
adorned with flowers, we entered the open door and found ourselves in a
neat apartment with comfortable carpets, chairs, etc. This room opened
again upon a long piazza at the side of the house, ornamented with a row
of clean bright churns and milk pans. The farmer and his wife now
entered followed by a troop of children bearing pails loaded with
foaming rich milk. They were surprised to find strangers in their house
and quite a crowd in front of it. Soon understanding the case, they
kindly invited us to be seated and offered us a choice of new milk or
hard cider. They had emigrated here from New York State soon after their
marriage, and having hewed themselves a home in the forest, had
gradually, by industry and perseverance, brought every thing around them
to its present flourishing condition. They seemed happy and healthy.
From their door there was a lovely view of the winding river, and the
plains of Kentucky opposite. When we had descended to the shore we
amused ourselves gathering specimens of the rocks. They were a hard dark
brown limestone, and appeared a mass of organic remains, containing
encrini, terabratula, and orthoceratites. We searched the pebbles along
the shore in hopes of finding some of the pretty silecious specimens
which I had found upon the Illinois, but succeeded, however, in picking
up only some small pieces of jasper and a few petrified shells. At a
little distance a flat boat was drawn up to the shore and fastened to a
tree; one of those long odd looking species of water craft which once
was the only kind seen upon these rivers. A man came from it, and as he
reached us, bade us politely good evening, and asked what we were
searching for. Some persons would have found his conduct very improper,
and his question impertinent, but I never mistake the frank, kind,
independent manner of my countrymen for impertinence. We returned his
salute and informed him of the object of our search. ‘You’ll find
nothing here so pretty as is on the Mississippi and lake Superior. I’ve
been pretty much over them regions and found some rale beauties--they
are called cornelions, and red a’most as them what’s used as watch
seals. I found some geodes, I think they call ’em, also.’ I said I had
heard of those and hoped some might have been washed down upon these
shores. ‘My wife’s got some in the boat which she’ll show you ma’am if
you walk there.’ I looked up at the boat from whose windows several
female heads were taking observations, and concluded to go there. We
followed our new acquaintance into his ark, which I found was his house
and shop, he being a floating pedlar, and had anchored, or rather tied
his ark to the rocks here to avoid the storm. His boat was not the
common flat boat, but was of the species called keel boats, and
occasionally carried a sail. In addition to his sail he used oars and
poles to propel it with. It was a rudely built affair, just high enough
within for a man to stand, but every thing was comfortably arranged. His
wife and his other woman were setting the supper table. At his request
she readily displayed her stores, and would have pressed them upon me if
I would have taken them. After we had returned to our boat we looked
towards the shore and beheld the crew assembled for a jumping match.
They were a motly assemblage of fire-men, covered with soot, pilots,
stewards, etc. They formed a line--one of them placing himself in the
centre, holding a stone in each hand, swayed himself backward and
forward, and then sprang, some jumping eighteen, twenty and twenty-two
feet, with the greatest ease. While crew and passengers were thus
amusing themselves, we were aroused by the cry of ‘The Ione is coming!
away boys, away!’ and bounding over the shore they were soon in the
boat. We understood the meaning of this sudden cry, and were much amused
with the amazement and terror depicted in the countenances of those who
did not. ‘What is coming?’ they cried. ‘Bears, wolves, sawyers, what!’
It was soon all explained; the Ione was in view, which we had left
behind us, and it was feared it would arrive at Cincinnati before us.
The hands were working with all their might; the breakage was finished;
the paddle threw up a whirl of foam; steam whizzed; pipes snorted;
engineer’s bell tingled, and away we went, hurry skurry, after our
rivals who had passed us with a triumphant cheer. Straining every rope
and piece of machinery we soon shot ahead of the presumptuous Ione,
ringing our bell and shouting in our turn. She was determined not to be
out done, and a regular race came on. We ladies all determined we would
not go to bed, but would remain up, alarmed and uncomfortable; one went
so far as to threaten to faint if the captain did not slacken his
speed, but we were laughed at by the gentlemen who enjoyed the sport.
Hour after hour of the night passed away while we rushed swiftly through
the waters, with our foe just in our rear. ‘Hurra! fling on more wood!’
was the cry from below. High blazed the furious fire, illuminating the
water around; the steam increased--the engine worked madly--the boat
strained and groaned at every stroke, and seemed actually to spring out
of the water. Behind us came our rival puffing, panting, snorting,
throwing out volumes of flame and sparks like some fiery dragon of old,
and as she came near, we could see into her lower deck, where around the
fierce fire, shadowy forms were rushing, bounding, carrying wood,
heaping it on, shouting and cursing. One strain too much--one upright
snag in our path, and we should all be strewed, some hundred souls, upon
the water, writhing, agonizing, dying--and all for what? that we might
arrive one hour the sooner in the night, at Cincinnati, where we should
be obliged to lie still till morning; or perhaps it was the _honor_ of
beating another boat,--honor here setting the steam in motion as well as
the sword. Our rival, unable to compete with us, abandoned the race, and
was soon left behind; our people satisfied with this wonderful triumph
relaxed in their speed; the ladies recovered from their fears, and one
by one crept into their berths. We had here no such heroine as she who
is going the rounds in the newspapers, who in the excitement of the
race, finding the wood failing, directed her smoked hams to be thrown on
the fire.

Sixteen miles below Cincinnati is the residence of Gen. Harrison, the
candidate for the Presidency. It is said he lived in a log cabin, but it
was a neat country dwelling, which, however, I dimly saw by moonlight.
To judge from what we have seen upon the road, Gen. H. will carry all
the votes of the west, for every one seemed enthusiastic in his favor.
Log cabins were erected in every town, and a small one of wickerwork
stood upon nearly all the steamboats. At the woodyards along the rivers,
it was very common to see a sign bearing the words, ‘Harrison wood’;
‘whig wood,’ or ‘Tippicanoe wood,’ he having gained a battle at a place
of that name. The western States indeed, owe him a debt of gratitude,
for he may be said to be the cause, under Providence, of their
flourishing condition. He subdued the Indians, laid the land out in
sections, thus opening a door for settlers, and in fact, deserves the
name given him of ‘Father of the west.’

We have now passed another State, Indiana, along whose borders by the
winding of the river, we have come three hundred and fifty miles from
the Wabash river. It is a fertile State, like its surrounding sister
States, having but little hilly ground, most of it being undulating
prairie. It is crossed by several fine rivers; has the Ohio for its
southern, and lake Michigan for its northern border. It is two hundred
and seventy-five miles long and one hundred and forty-five broad,
containing thirty-eight thousand square miles. Except the sand hills of
lake Michigan, and swamps of the Kankakee, its soil is of inexhaustible
fertility. Canals to the aggregate length of two hundred and thirty
miles have been completed, or are in a state of forwardness, and
ninety-five of railroads. Indianapolis is the capitol, situated in
Marion county, upon the White river, and in the centre of the State.
This county is a very fertile one, having raised the last year,
according to the marshal’s report, nine hundred thousand bushels of
corn; sixty-seven thousand bushels of oats; thirty thousand bushels of
wheat, and twenty thousand head of hogs. Indianapolis is only twenty
years old, having been, upon its site, a dense forest in 1820; now it
has several public buildings, churches, schools, court-house, etc., and
two thousand inhabitants. The amount of tolls taken upon the canals and
railroads of Indiana amount to twenty-eight thousand five hundred
dollars. Salt of a very fine kind is made in Fountain county. Its
population is six hundred and eighty-three thousand three hundred and
fourteen. At two o’clock at night we arrived at Cincinnati, and took up
our position at the end of a long line of steamers, where we tried to
sleep until morning.




LETTER X.


CINCINNATI, July 19th.

_My dear E._--As much as we had heard of Cincinnati, we were astonished
at its beauty and extent, and of the solidity of its buildings. It well
merits the name bestowed upon it here,--_Queen of the west_. We have
explored it thoroughly by riding and walking, and pronounce it a
wonderful city. The hotel to which we were recommended, the Broadway
House, was commodious and well conducted. The family is a very agreeable
one, and well educated, but remain in their own private apartments.
There are numerous other hotels of all descriptions, but none rival it,
unless it may be the new one called the Henri House. Soon after
breakfast we ordered a carriage, which we found to be quite as handsome
as any we have in our city. We spent the morning slowly driving up and
down each street, along the Miami canal, and in the environs of the city
in every direction, and were quite astonished--not because we had never
seen larger and finer cities, but that this should have arisen in what
was so lately a wilderness. Its date, you know, is only thirty years
back. The rows of stores and ware-houses; the extensive and ornamented
private dwellings; the thirty churches, many of them very handsome, and
other public buildings, excited our surprise. Main street is the
principal business mart. While in the centre of this street, we mark it
for a mile ascending the slope upon which the town is built, and in
front it seems interminable, for the river being low, we do not observe
we are looking across it to the street of the opposite city of
Covington, until a steamboat passing, tells us where the city ends.
Broadway is another main artery of this city; not, however, devoted to
business, but bounded upon each side by rows of handsome dwellings.
Third, Fourth, Seventh, Vine, and many other streets, show private
houses not surpassed by any city we had visited. They are generally
extensive, and surrounded by gardens, and almost concealed from view of
the passers, by groves of shade trees and ornamental shrubbery. An
accidental opening among the trees shows you a glimpse of a piazza or
pavillion, where, among groves and gardens, the air may be enjoyed by
the children or ladies of the family.

We visited a museum in hopes of seeing some Indian relics or organic
remains, but found these curiosities had met with the fate of all things
in America, destruction by fire. The owner of the museum had been
nineteen years collecting it, and it contained, among other things,
bones of mastodon, and mummies, taken from a cave in Kentucky. The last,
we were informed by the wife of the proprietor, were in a sitting
posture, wrapped in mantles, one having red hair, the other black. She
was now doing her best to collect another museum. Their house is a very
nice one, having three tiers of rooms, and is rented to them for one
thousand dollars. ‘How did the fire originate?’ I asked of the lady of
the museum. ‘Why, ma’am,’ said she, ‘you must know the cellar of this
house, unbeknown to me, was let out to a _yellow barber_, who had some
powder for sale which blew up to our garret one day, and set it on fire.
I heard the explosion, but thought it one of the steamboats at the
wharf----’ ‘Pardon me madam,’ I said, ‘but pray how many times a week
do your steamboats blow up?’ ‘Why, I can’t exactly tell----’ ‘Oh, well;
go on with your story.’ ‘That day I came into this room before it was
burnt, and says, George, says I, to the man who is now playing on the
organ just as he was then, George, what is that which smells so much
like burnt paint? Why, missus, says he, it is the back of this yere
bench which was almost a coal afore I put it out. Why, George, says I,
how did that happen? Why, the yaller barber’s stove-pipe was so hot,
says he, it sot it afire. I ran to the bench and found it had been, sure
enough, burnt, and the wall felt quite hot. George, what is that
crackling noise, says I. Why it’s the yaller barber’s stove-pipe what’s
a cooling, says he. But I smelt smoke, and I said to George, George, do
run up _stars_ and see if there aint any fire anyhow. He went, but soon
came thumping down again, making as much noise as if he had been a great
mastydone. George, says I, what’s the matter? Matter! why, gorry, massa
missus! the roof’s burnt and fell on the garret floor, and the garret
floor’s afire and fell on the third story floor---- Pshaw, George,
you’re poking fun at me; but just then up runs my husband as wild as a
prairie wolf. Wife! Good God! the roof is all afire! he cried and ran up
stairs; when, just as he reached the second flight, the third floor fell
down upon him, and he was enveloped in flames. He was dug out, and you
may be sure he was a show; burnt to a mummy; his hat looking a bit of
coke; his dress hanging in scorched tatters, and blind with smoke, he
staggered about like a drunken nigger. He was six weeks before he
recovered from that burning.’ ‘Indeed; this fire has cost you much
suffering.’ ‘I have not told you all. There is a young girl, a distant
relation living with me, to whom I am much attached; she was up stairs,
heard a noise, saw the fire, and went to run down stairs, when behold
the stairs was away--burnt and fell down. She ran about like a wild
Injun, trying to escape, but could not, and at last sank down at the
place where the stairs had been, and expected to die. Just at that
moment, as if sent by Providence, some men from a flat boat ran up to
help us. ‘Why, mother, you’re in a bad fix anyhow,’ said one; ‘what is
your greatest treasure here, and we will try to save that first.’ My
greatest treasure, I said, is a young girl, whom I dearly love, who is
up stairs; but I am afraid you cannot save her. He ran along and looked
up, when, just then, in a fit of despair, she flung herself down,
thinking she might as well die so, as she must die up stairs anyhow, and
he being just under caught her. She was very much bruised, and her head
is still much affected with heat and wounds.’ I truly sympathized with
the unfortunate dillitante, as the loss of a museum which one has been
collecting twenty years is a serious evil. I think it behooves the
citizens of Cincinnati to encourage her endeavors to gather a new
collection, by patronizing her museum. From the upper balcony is a very
beautiful view of the opposite shores of Kentucky. The two towns of
Covington and Newport line the bank with numerous buildings, some of
them very pretty; while behind them arise a range of picturesque hills,
covered with luxuriant herbage. These two towns are separated by the
river Licking, whose bright waters, after flowing for two hundred miles
through the fair plains of Kentucky, enter the Ohio opposite Cincinnati.
Beneath us we looked down upon the wharf, which was a scene of mixed
gaiety and business. A row of steamboats lay along the shore, from and
to which flowed a constant current of men and goods. From some of the
largest, the music of the band which they always carry sounded merrily,
while broad, bright flags floated out upon the summer breeze.

Re-entering our carriage, we drove down to Fulton, a town about two
miles from Cincinnati, but which may be called a part of it, as the road
is one long street leading to it, containing iron founderies, water
works, lumber yards, &c. Omnibuses are constantly passing and re-passing
along this street. We observed here several large steamboats upon the
stocks, some of which were copper bottomed, as a guard against snags.
Fulton looks pretty at a distance, seated at the foot of a round, soft
green hill. After tea, we passed through the city, to the river, along
whose bank, is a very pretty road. This is the fashionable evening
drive, and we passed several carriages, containing ladies and children,
and young persons on horseback, enjoying the bland evening air.
Although the heat had been excessive during the day; it was now
perfectly cool, which is usually the case here. Kentucky looked very
lovely, as the setting sun tinged its hill tops, and threw a rosy haze
over its groves, and fields and pretty cottages. The broad river looked
placid and lustrous, as if rejoicing in the pretty reflections which lay
upon its surface. A small fort opposite, we were told was erected in
honor of the hero of Tippicanoe, Gen. Harrison, who is much beloved
here, and whom they expect to be the next President of the United
States.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 20th._--I am happy to inform you the state of religion and morals
in this place, are such as would please every lover of Jesus and of good
order. One fact speaks for itself, there are here thirty churches. There
are also twelve public schools, and between two and three thousand
scholars, who are there educated. What a blessed thing is it to see a
city, instead of lavishing its surplus wealth upon theatres and places
of dissipation, erecting schools, and such respectable, nay, elegant
houses of public worship as we see in Cincinnati. The consequences are
seen in the circumstances and behaviour of the people. Here is no haunt
of vice, no Faubourg St. Antoine, no _five points_, the people keep the
Sabbath, and are respectable and happy. Sunday morning we attended
service at Christ Church, where we heard the beautiful episcopal service
read by their pastor, the Rev. Mr. Brooks, who afterwards gave us a very
good discourse. This is a very handsome church, in the gothic form,
abounding in spires and abutments, it is a grey brick edged with stone.
The interior is very elegant. The pews are all lined and cushioned with
blue, while the pulpit, and chancel, and reading desk, are a dazzling
mass of bronze, and crimson, and gold; they are of bronze and gilt
Gothic open work, lined with crimson velvet. Some antique chairs, and
benches of oak, carved, lined and cushioned with velvet, stand here,
while the whole is surrounded with a railing, and kneeling cushion of
the same material and lining. The lamps and chandaliers are profuse and
rich, and the organ beautifully built of bronze. In the same street is
another episcopal church called St. Pauls, which is in the Grecian
style, with a pediment in front, supported by columns. There are six
presbyterian churches here, some of which we visited, and which are
handsome and well attended.

In the evening we went to the church of the Rev. Mr. Lynde, a baptist
clergyman, whose church is in a very flourishing condition, he having
baptised five hundred new members last winter. This chapel is in Ninth
street, and is a large brick building having a tall white spire. Every
thing within is plain but neat. The seats are in the sofa style, edged
with mahogany, lined and cushioned with horse hair, and having, several
of them, the owner’s name in brass plates upon the door, as in some of
our churches. The lamps and chandaliers, as in the episcopal church, are
more in number and richer than I have ever seen in our best churches. We
were quite pleased with Mr. L. His manner had a dignity and firmness, as
if thoroughly convinced of the truths he advanced; and his address to
his people came with the power of one who spoke with authority. How
pleasant it is to find this region, which so lately resounded with
savage merriment or war cries, now echoing the truth as it is in Jesus.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 21st._--We arose early, and walked out to see the markets. There
are three, well built. The one on Broadway was filled with a profusion
of meats, fruits and vegetables, which last were uncommonly fine. The
streets around the market, were blocked up with wagons loaded with
country produce. During our rambles through the streets I was struck by
the sight of a building, the oddest I ever beheld. It was a huge ugly
thing, being a strange mixture of styles, and an attempt at Gothic,
Turkish, and Moorish. This was Mrs. Trollop’s erection, built for a
house of pleasure, and rooms were constructed for balls, refreshment,
and dressing rooms, while below were to be shops. These balls were to be
in the style of Almacks, quite exclusive. It is now a ‘Mechanic
Institute,’ and when not using their rooms for the exhibitions, let them
out to lecturers, exhibition of pictures, or a fair. The front is of
brick adorned with Gothic arches, and the roof surmounted with Gothic
ornaments. A square tower rises from the back of the building having a
row of brick pillars in front, this contains a room having windows all
around; on the top of this tower is another, a round one, having as I
said, a sort of moorish top. We saw the time approach for leaving the
‘Queen City,’ with regret. We left it in the steamboat Agnes, a new and
pretty boat, but small, ‘calculated to run any where it was moist,’ as
the river is too low for the larger boats to ascend to Wheeling. The
river’s greatest rise here is sixty-three feet, and it then runs with a
current of six miles an hour. When out in the river we looked sadly
back at Cincinnati, which appears Queen like indeed, while majestically
reposing upon her throne of stately hills, with the glorious river at
her feet. Cincinnati is built upon two plains which rise in gentle
slopes from the river. Fifty years ago, fort Washington stood here, and
now there is a large city of forty-five thousand inhabitants, containing
churches, lyceums, colleges, and doing a business of six million
dollars. There are a great many manufactories, and forges, and the steel
and iron business is carried on to a considerable amount, ‘from
ponderous beam of steam engine, cylenders and steam machinery, to
household articles.’ Its doings in the pork line you have heard of,
several of the largest ware-houses were pointed out to us as ‘pork
ware-houses.’ The Miami canal comes into the Ohio at Cincinnati, thus
bringing to it the produce from lake Erie. The little Miami railroad is
also to terminate here. A bend in the river, and the ‘Queen of the West’
is lost to our eyes. The river scenery is very beautiful to day, lined
with thriving farms, dotted with pretty villas and towns, having a back
ground of those peculiar green hills which occur upon this river called
the Ohio hills. Among the towns we passed were New Richmond, twenty-one
miles from Cincinnati, Moscow, Mechanicsville, Augusta &c. &c. Maysville
is quite a large town in Kentucky which looked very gay as the sun,
setting over the shadowy hills lighted up its scarlet brick houses and
gave a brighter tint to the cotton wood groves with which they were
surrounded.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 21st._--When we left our state-room we found ourselves near
Portsmouth, the largest town we had seen since leaving Cincinnati. It is
seated upon a platform elevated above the river at the foot of a group
of pretty ‘Ohio hills.’ Every one looked very busy here, the shops
displayed a goodly show of merchandise, two large hotels seemed full of
people, drays were travelling about, water carts were being filled in
the river, and little boys and girls were hastening down to come on
board and sell their cakes and fruit. I did not go on shore, as we were
to stay only a short time, but amused myself gazing about, and eating
black and whortleberries which the little buckeye girls sold for ‘a fip
a quart.’ This town is the southern termination of the Ohio canal whose
northern outlet we had passed at Cleaveland upon lake Erie. The Scioto
river also enters the Ohio here. It is a pretty stream 175 miles long.
In the country through which it flows is much iron; and forges and
founderies are established in many places around Portsmouth, which is a
market for their produce. The hills opposite this place are of a grander
character than any we had seen upon the Ohio, and now, with the lights
and shades of early summer morning upon them, formed a charming picture
for the inhabitants of Portsmouth. I remarked several pretty dwellings
surrounded by shrubbery, which showed there were many here who were
‘well to do in the world.’ What delightful residences must these Ohio
towns be, for persons of small fortune, or to tradesmen. All the
comforts of life can be obtained with little expense, while good air,
and good laws, shed health and peace around. Our passengers and freight
exchanged for others, we turned our course from the shore, and followed
the bends of La Belle riviere, (worthy of its name) as it wound through
a well settled country, its shadowy hills now appearing more frequently,
giving a more varied character to the scenery. The water grows purer as
we ascend, and shallower, so that we can at times distinguish the sand
and stones at the bottom. The Buckeye tree is seen in large groves, or
pretty groups or copses, giving a very cultivated air to the shores, as
we had been used to see it, ornamenting our streets, under the ugly name
horse-chesnut. But although much alike in external appearance our tree
is a transplanted one, originally from Asia, the Æsculus Hippocastinum,
while this tree is a native of Ohio, designated by the botanist as the
Æsculus Ohioensis. There are here seven species of this tree, which from
their deep green glossy leaves, and pretty flowers are a great ornament
to the groves of Ohio. It is an useful tree, and from the softness of
its wood is easy to cut. In the early days of Ohio, when the settlers
were in want of many articles of household furniture, they resorted to
the buckeye. After building their log cabins of its branches, they
formed, according to Dr. Drake, cradles, tables, bowls, platters,
spoons, and troughs for gathering maple sap. The covering of the nut can
be used as soap, while starch and medicine are also procured from it.
The nut being brown, with a round white spot upon it, is called buckeye;
and in consequence of their frequent use, and constant praises of this
tree, the people of Ohio received from their neighbors the soubriquet of
Buckeyes. The western people are fond of these nicknames. I told you the
Illinoisians were called Suckers, the Missourians are Pukes; the
Kentuckians, Corncrackers; Virginians, Tuckahoes; Indianians, Hoosiers;
Michiganians, Wolverines, &c.

While sailing, or rather to use the customary phrase here, riding along
these western rivers, one is struck with the destruction of trees. What
magnificent forests we passed to-day, where the huge and towering
sycamore, the dark green buckeye, the lighter cotton wood, the tall and
graceful shaft of the sugar maple, the white elm, with its beautifully
arranged branches and purple flowers, the silvery white maple, the oak,
the beech, woven together by missletoe and other creepers, on the Ohio
shore; and on the Kentucky bank, the blue ash, the coffee tree, stately
tulip, yellow locust, dark leaved hackberry, basswood, and hundreds of
others, make a mass of glorious forest scenery, such as I am sure earth
cannot surpass. But the great rise and fall, and changes of this river,
and its shores, destroy hundreds of these noble creations in a year.
Countless numbers we saw along the banks, with all their roots exposed,
holding but by one slight one, which any blast of wind might loosen,
when it falls and is washed away. The shores were strewed with them in
all stages; many struck down in youth, with their young foliage about
them; others in the sere and yellow leaf, while others again stripped of
leaf and bark, are piled in great ‘wreck heaps,’ where the current has
hurled them, or floating down the stream, in time to become a snag and
lie in wait to impale some unconscious vessel. While looking upon them
in their innocence and beauty, I could not but pity their vampire fate,
so soon to be transformed into malicious snags, to destroy the passing
voyager. The quantity of yellow clay marl which occurs along the
shores, contributes to their destruction, as it easily crumbles away.
This also gives the peculiar rounded form to the Ohio hills, as the marl
is washed down, giving the hills a smooth round shape.

At Sandy river, a stream which runs one hundred and sixty miles through
Virginia, we bade adieu to old Kentuck. The rich and fertile plains of
Kentucky were the favorite hunting grounds of the Aborigines of the
surrounding regions, as there the buffalo, elk, deer, &c. roved in large
herds. Extremely unwilling to surrender it to the white intruders, the
Indians fought long and bravely for it, and so many severe battles took
place there, that Kentucky acquired among the Indians the name of ‘the
dark and bloody ground.’ The inhabitants have long been celebrated for
their valor. Some of the scenery of Kentucky is the most beautiful in
the States, and some of the land the most fertile. It is four hundred
miles long, and contains twenty-six million acres. The wonderful caverns
which occur in the limestone formations, you have heard of. Population,
between six and seven hundred thousand. Virginia, the land of the
cavaliers, and of Pocahontas, looked very inviting, as we sailed past
it; her pretty hills lending beauty to every view. At Guyandot, we
landed a party to visit the Sulphur Springs in Virginia, which are now
quite fashionable. Our springs at Saratoga and Ballston, lose many
southern and western visitors, since these, and so many others have been
discovered in those regions.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 22nd._--Off Gallipolis, a town settled by French people, who came
here to avoid the excesses of the revolution. These persons, brought up
in a delicate, luxurious manner, were obliged to plunge at once into
all the hardships of a woodland life, and suffered much ere their houses
were erected, and all things in order. Upon the opposite shore the
Kenawha enters the Ohio, after coming from the iron mountain in North
Carolina, through Kentucky three hundred miles. It has dug for itself a
deep bed in the limestone rocks, and upon its banks is the most rugged
and picturesque scenery in Kentucky. Coal, and salt springs abound along
its shores. The rapids of the Ohio came in sight after this, and looked
cool and pretty, as the water curled and foamed over the ledges of rocks
and pebbles. The water was very clear and we seemed sailing upon the
bottom; but being so unusually low, our boat, as small as she was,
grounded several times. In these extremities recourse was had to
_cordelling_. A rope was carried ahead by a small boat, and fastened to
a rock, or anchored; and a windlass brought the boat up to the rock.
After passing the rapids, the river becomes shallower and more narrow;
but as our boat only drew twenty inches, we succeeded in going on, while
some larger ones which had accompanied us thus far, were left in the
river, or at some village. The islands are more frequent, and some of
them very lovely, mazes of beautiful forest trees woven together in
natural bowers by pea vines in blossom, scarlet creeper, and many other
pretty and new plants. The island of the unfortunate Blennarhasset, is
the largest and loveliest, containing seven hundred acres. Through the
circle of forest trees which border it, we caught glimpses of the centre
which was level, and once highly cultivated. Here he created a paradise
of lawns and groves, and gardens, surrounding a dwelling, the residence
of his charming family, to which were attached green and hot-houses,
libraries and music rooms. Ambition has rendered this fair spot a
desert; he never rose to the empire which he and his tempter, Burr, had
hoped to create. After all, the saddest part of Herman Blennarhasset’s
fate is, that every tourist who passes the island, must mention his name
and utter an effecting sentimentality about ambition; it seems like
dragging him out of his resting place, to hear our taunts; if you travel
this way, let me beg of you--

    “Breathe not his name, let it sleep in the dust,
    Where cold and unhonored his ashes are laid.”

Parkersburgh at the mouth of the little Kenawha, is a quaint old
fashioned town in Virginia; embosomed in hills. Here we intended to land
and take the mail stage to Winchester, but it had just departed, and
rather than remain there two days, until another stage, we concluded to
go on in the Agnes to Wheeling. Accordingly we and our trunks were again
on board, and we resumed our rambles. At sunset we stopped, at the town
of Marietta, the first spot settled in Ohio. Its name was very prettily
given in honor of the fair and unfortunate Maria Antoinette of France;
in gratitude for the support she gave our cause. The town was laid out
in 1788. The streets are wide, and adorned with forest trees, and parks.
The houses are solidly built, having each its ornamented court and
garden. The exchange, court-house, college, churches, and other public
buildings are handsome structures. It is principally settled by New
Englanders, whose love of good order and morality has not been left
behind, for the motto upon the town seal pledges their ‘support of
religion and learning.’ Marietta is upon the Muskingum, which is between
two and three hundred yards wide, and navigable for one hundred miles
with large boats. It is a remarkably pure, healthy, bright stream,
‘rolling its limpid waves over a sandy and pebbly bottom, variegated in
summer months with the open valves of thousands of red and white shells
scattered among the sand, rivalling in beauty the richest tessellated
pavement of the Romans.’ Upon its banks stands Zanesville, a large and
handsome town, and in the county through which this river and its
branches flow, are quantities of iron, coal, salt, limestone, and many
other useful productions. There are also ancient mounds and
fortifications upon its shores. Marietta appears beautifully as we
approach, seated upon an elevated bank, at the foot of a range of the
picturesque Ohio hills. These are about three hundred feet high, formed
of ‘argillacious earth, based upon sandstone.’ The scenery this
afternoon is of a grander cast than any we had yet seen upon the Ohio.
The hills which have generally risen at some distance from the shore,
now come close down to the water, so that, as we ride along we can look
far up into their recesses. They have the same gracefully regular
appearance, except that now and then a ledge of sandstone or limestone,
breaks the smooth green side.

I have said very little about the cooking and victuals upon these
western boats. The latter are very good, and finer beef, fish, bread,
etc., cannot be found any where; the most fastidious palate might here
be satisfied were it not for one thing--our western brethren are so fond
of fat. Almost every dish of animal food is swiming in a greasy liquor.
Doubtless I should be used to it in time and like it as well as our
young southern friend who used to expatiate upon the delights of hominy
and ‘possum fat.’ However, I cannot expect persons, wherever I may
choose to travel, to shape their table to please me, so I make a point
of taking things as quietly as if I had ordered every thing. I generally
succeeded, by declining gravey, to obtain a piece tolerably dry, and
this, with their excellent vegetables, Indian bread, good butter, and
nice stewed dried peaches, the unfailing accompaniment to every meal, to
secure a pleasant and healthful repast. Tea and coffee we have met, of
all shades and varieties, but none so unique as the prairie coffee, of
which I wrote you. The accommodations are comfortable, and in the ladies
apartment, towels, basins, and water enough, and leave to use your own
brushes. The gentlemen were confined to tin washbowls upon deck, but if
any one chose to ask, he might always have a basin and towel in his
cabin. We found nothing to complain of as serious annoyances, but
received every attention and politeness from captains and servants.




LETTER XI.


WHEELING, VIRGINIA July 23d.

Although weary of the constant jar of these high pressure steamboats,
and glad once more to step upon firm land, yet, when told Wheeling was
in sight, I felt regret that I must now turn my back upon the beautiful
Ohio and the charming western land. I ought not to leave the fair State
of Ohio without saying a few words to give you an idea of its extent and
condition--matters which you may perhaps extract from Gazateers
yourself, but this will save you the trouble. Gazateers and tourists
guides, however, are of little use in a region which so rapidly changes
its appearance, and increases its population. Where you are directed to
remark the beauty of a grand forest, you find a large town, and where,
when the book was written, spread out a fair prairie, you find a country
covered with farm houses, cornfields, fences and orchards. Along the
coast of Ohio we have sailed over an hundred miles on lake Erie, and
upon the Ohio river, four hundred miles. From Cincinnati here, which is
all that distance, except twenty or thirty miles we paid twelve
dollars, six each; which, with board for three days, is not expensive
travelling. The State of Ohio is nearly square, being two hundred and
twenty-two miles long by two hundred broad, and with Indiana and
Illinois, are parts of a great plain which inclines to the Mississippi,
through which the rivers have cut their way into their deep beds. The
geology of these States is very much the same, they being based upon
that great secondary limestone formation which reaches from the eastern
States to the Chippewayan mountains, and from the great lakes to the
alluvion of the southern States. This is doubtless the deposite of the
primitive ocean, as it occurs ‘in layers of chrystaline and sedimentary,
or in broken pieces cemented together.’[26] It is of all shades, from
the dark brown ferruginous, to the light grey, the blue fœtid, the
yellow silecious, and magnesian, the argillaceous, earthy, chrystaline
oolitic, etc. In this limestone formation is a variety of fossil shells
of many species, as the ammonites, spiriferi, encrini, producti,
corallines, gryphea, madrepores, and various others. Its thickness is
enormous, for it has been penetrated one thousand feet without reaching
the primitive rocks.[27] Above this is the sandstone, and slate, and
clay of the coal measures, and muriatiferous rocks. These sandstones are
generally white ash color, or brown; a very little red has been
discovered in this valley. One of our western friends, who has well
studied the geology of that region, was of opinion that all the groups
of fossiliferous secondary strata recognized and determined by European
geologists have not been discovered here; but that they claim the upper
new, red sandstone and oolites, that have not been subdivided; that
above the oolites they have unconsolidated strata of great extent and
thickness, which do not abound in fossils, and have not been
sufficiently observed to justify and attempt to confer names upon them.
Several of the groups of the European secondary are thought to be
wanting here. The chalk group is certainly wanting; nor have any of the
four received divisions of the supercretaceous, or tertiary, been
identified in the western valley. The older pliocene, and it is thought
the newer, have been observed in Alabama. The recent pliocene is here
established; the accumulation of gigantic fossil remains; of mammalia at
Big Bone Lick, Kentucky; at Bucyrus, Ohio; at Pomme de Terre, Missouri;
and at Rocky Spring, near St. Louis, identify this group with certainty.
The recent pliocene is not horizontal, it having been seen fifteen
hundred feet or more above the level of the sea. Its remains of
elephants, tetracaulidons, and other fossils identical with existing
genera upon the earth demonstrates its geological era to be near us.
There are several remarkable deposites in Ohio and the surrounding
States--the sileceous, ferruginous, muriatiferous, and the coal. The
sileceous deposite, sometimes called ‘Flint ridge,’ runs nearly through
the State of Ohio, in a south-westerly direction from the Tuscarawas
river, to the Sciota, near the Ohio. Its greatest width is four or five
miles, being strewed over the ground in broken masses; beneath the soil;
or, which is its most common situation, upon the tops of the hills;
doubtless thrown up from the ocean in a fluid and heated state. This
deposite occurs generally white, but is occasionally streaked with
various hues, and is compact, cellular, and vermicular. The aboriginal
inhabitants made great use of it for arrow heads; and the present
settlers find it very valuable as whet-stones, hones, and mill-stones.
The latter are thought equal to the French buhr stone, and are sold to
the amount of twenty thousand dollars a year. Those from the deposite
upon Raccoon creek, are very celebrated. In this silecious material
occurs marine shells, beautiful and limpid quartz chrystals, veins of
chalcedony, sulphate of barytes, flint, hornstone, and various other
minerals.

The ferruginous deposite crosses the State from north-east to
south-west, commencing at the division line between Ohio and
Pennsylvania, upon lake Erie, to the mouth of the Sciota, and thence
continues into Kentucky, to the Cumberland mountains, its average width
being from fifteen to twenty miles. The iron occurs in several
varieties, as a brown oxide, an argillaceous ore, pure, highly
carbonated ore, etc. Its forms are also various; the ore occurring
lamellated, disseminated in kidney shaped masses, columnar, stalactitic,
cubic, in rhombic fragments, nodules, etc. It is extensively worked in
many furnaces of Ohio and Kentucky. In this iron are marine shells and
plants of a tropical climate.

I have spoken of the muriatiferous rocks, and I will now pass on to the
coal measures. The quantity of coal found in these western States is
wonderful. The valley of the Ohio, and it now appears the valley of the
Mississippi are underlaid with coal. The Alleghany mountains are filled
with it; at their bases it is heaped up in masses, probably of
antediluvial vegetation, by the eddies of the currents. These mountains
seem to divide the anthracite from the bituminous coal. There is enough
of this article in Ohio to last thousands of years, twelve thousand
square miles being underlaid with it in one grand basin. In Indiana,
according to Dr. Owen, the coal formation occupies seven thousand seven
hundred and eighty square miles; in Pennsylvania, the bituminous coal
embraces an area of twenty-one thousand square miles; while in the
States west of these, coal is found in considerable quantities, but it
has not been thoroughly examined. The richest deposit of coal in the
valley of the Ohio, is the basin through which runs the Monongahela
river; it is two hundred miles in length and one hundred in breadth.[28]
It occurs extensively in layers across the hills--that of Coal hill at
Pittsburg, supplies the city, which it uses in its great manufactories.
The coal consumed in this city and its suburbs is estimated at ‘seven
millions six hundred and sixty-five thousand bushels.’ This useful
article is easily procured throughout the west and is consequently very
cheap, being two, four, or eight cents a bushel in different places. The
iron and salt furnaces, and manufactories of the west owe their present
flourishing trade to the abundance of this material. This coal is black
bituminous generally; burns freely, and in some deposits, forms very
good coke which is used in the furnaces. In Licking Co., Ohio is a
deposit of Canal coal, and another in Guernsey Co. Beside these
interesting minerals there are numerous others in the Ohio valley which
are very valuable; upon Wills creek Ohio is a deposit of fine lias
limestone--and there are in the State various other stones suitable for
building,--sandstones of fine quality used for architectural
purposes,--gypsum, lead, copper &c. The coal measures abound in organic
remains; some of them belonging to the tropical palms and ferns are very
beautiful and perfect. When we see how important these articles are to
the western land, and how profusely they are scattered and how easily
obtained, one cannot think they are thus arranged by accidental
convulsions of nature. We know that the greatest coal deposits are above
the thirtieth degree of latitude, and is not this because the
inhabitants below this degree do not so much require it, while the
colder countries would be almost deserts without it, so good and
beneficient is our great Father. You will say I am like the old woman
who praised the goodness of God for making rivers flow by the side of
cities. I think there is double enjoyment in every gift when we feel it
is from His compassionate hand. Ohio is one of the finest agricultural
countries in the world. Her productions are justly celebrated for their
goodness and quantity. Her exports in flour last year is said to be
seven million five hundred thousand dollars. The land belonging to the
government sells here, as in the other States for one dollar and
twenty-five cents an acre. Around large towns the owner of the lots asks
of course more. We must bid Ohio now adieu and look around us a little.
We were approaching Wheeling when I thus digressed. It appears very well
from the water; you see a circle of swelling green hills with the bright
river encircling a large island in the midst. The town runs in a long
line across the slope of one of the hills, while a group of steamboats
looking wonderfully like a flock of geese were floating upon the water
beneath. People are busy taking out coal from the hills, and trundling
it down a wooden rail-way into the vessels below. The hills are between
two, and three hundred feet high; the coal stretches along their face
for fifteen miles and then dips into the earth. It is a kind valuable
for cooking, and some of it is beautifully irridescent. The
manufactories of Wheeling are supplied with it and it is extensively
sold down the river, at the cost of three cents a bushel when delivered
to the boat. One million five hundred thousand bushels of coal are
exported from Wheeling every year. Wheeling is a second Pittsburg
blackened with coal; while the smoke is rising from forge, and furnace,
and chimney, in every direction. Here we found the best landing of any
town upon the river, as the steep bank was walled up, and we ascended by
a long flight of steps. When upon the top of the wharf we found
ourselves before a range of shops and hotels, while before us was the
‘United States,’ where we deposited ourselves and luggage. After tea we
set out for a stroll through the town accompanied by a very agreeable
party who had left the boat with us, the remainder of our passengers
going on to Pittsburg, about ninety miles farther. We had been through
so many new towns that this looked quite antique, it being settled in
seventeen hundred and seventy by Col. Zane and his brothers, who
afterwards founded Zanesville. The streets here run along the face of
the hill, and contain many shops, manufactories, a large court-house,
hotels, banks and dwellings. Among the buildings are seven churches, an
academy, iron and brass founderies, flint glass works, paper and saw
mills, steam engine and machinery works, nail factory, cordage, wire
floorcloth factories &c. Eight stages arrive and depart each day,
Sundays excepted, and various steamboats stop here--so if you know of
any mechanics or trades-people complaining of want of work in your
crowded city tell them to wend their way hitherward. All kind of
laborers will find business enough in the west. I think a society for
exporting over the Alleghanies the poor European emigrants who are
suffering in our large cities, would be of great service to them and to
us. The population we were told nearly numbered ten thousand. Among the
houses we observed one quite large and handsome; this we were told was
built by Col. Zane, when the town was first settled and his descendants
have resided there since. He was an active pioneer of the wilderness,
and encountered many difficulties, and fought many battles with the
Indians ere he was permanently settled in his beautiful abode. In these
attacks the females of Wheeling showed much heroism and took an active
part in the affray. The little settlement was once attacked by three
hundred and eighty Indians when Col. Zane had with him but thirty-three
men, but the women shouldered their rifles, joined in the battle and did
much execution. Once, in despair, the garrison inclined to a surrender,
but a young girl named Betsey Wheat, answered them in such an eloquent
and indignant burst of irony that they rallied and defeated the enemy.
In a second attack Elizabeth, the sister of Col. Zane, saved the fort by
bringing into it a quantity of powder, braving, but passing unhurt
through the whizzing balls directed against her by the Indians. Some of
the buildings here are of the light sandstone of the country.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 24th._--We were aroused early by the trampling of steeds and upon
looking out beheld several fine stages each having four horses which
were soon to start upon their different roads. Our breakfast over we
with the party mentioned above entered a large convenient coach and just
as the clock struck seven left the hotel. Upon reaching the top of the
hill above the town we looked down upon as fair a scene as any we had
seen in our travels. The town was strewed over the hill below us, while
the beautiful Ohio lay like a circlet of silver around a pretty island
covered with waving corn and dotted with farm-houses, and then glided
away in its course winding among the soft green hills until it
disappeared behind one of them. The island is Zane’s island, containing
three hundred and fifty acres. We had now looked our last upon the
lovely valley of the Ohio, and its beautiful river the Belle riviere of
the French, and Ohio Peekhanne of the Indian. This valley is from the
sources of the Ohio to the Mississippi eleven hundred miles in length,
and nearly three hundred miles in breadth. It sweeps down from the
Alleghanies at an elevation of two thousand two hundred and thirty feet
to the Ohio and then ascends gently four hundred feet to the ridge which
divides its waters from those which flow into the gulf of St. Lawrence,
a distance of nearly three hundred miles. Through this valley winds in
graceful bends the noble Ohio eleven hundred miles from its source, and
nine hundred and forty-eight from its junction with the Monongohela at
Pittsburg. It divides the valley in two unequal portions, having one
hundred and sixteen thousand square miles upon the south-east side, and
eighty thousand upon the north-west. This valley enjoys a pleasant
temperature not too cold to paralyze exertion, and not so warm as to
enervate. Its soil is capable of yielding fruits, vegetables, and
grains, of the finest quality and in great profusion, and mineral
products of the utmost importance to man; and it is settled by a free,
virtuous, and enlightened people; add to this the scenery is beautiful
and varied, and I think you will look far to find a region of country
uniting so many advantages. The dark clouds of slavery which shadow its
borders is the only spot in its fair horizon. The valley of the Ohio is
in the centre of a great plain, which as the Appalachian chain was
elevated raised up that portion, and consequently the rivers which flow
over that division come with more impetuosity and dig for themselves
deep trenches in the earth. Many who have carefully examined this region
are of opinion the regular hills which border the Ohio and many of its
tributaries, are parts of the primitive plain, which the streams have
worn down into their present shapes. In this valley lies that great coal
basin which is so ably described by Dr. Hildreth in the American Journal
of Science. It extends over four or five degrees of latitude, and as
many of longitude. A circle drawn from the head waters of the Muskingum
to the sources of the Alleghany, and from thence to those of the
Monongohela and Kenawha would mark the extent of this deposit,
comprising portions of Pennsylvania, Virginia, Ohio and Kentucky.

Adieu to the fair Ohio! It has carried us for nearly nine hundred miles
in safety upon its bosom, unharmed by snag or sawyer; and I say with
Milton,

    “May thy brimmed waves for this,
    Their full tribute never miss,
    From a thousand petty rills,
    That rumble down the snowy hills;
    Summer drought or singed air,
    Never reach thy tresses fair;
    Nor wet October’s torrent flood,
    Thy molten crystal fill with mud.”

Our day’s journey was very delightful. The country is rolling, and
alternately pretty hill and dale scenery, and winding rivulets. The
first part of our ride was through Virginia, but in a short time at the
village of Alexandria, we entered Pennsylvania. We drove over the
national road, which runs from Cumberland, in Maryland, and passes
through the intervening States to Vandalia, Illinois, from whence it is
expected to be finished to Alton. This is a firm McAdamized road, eighty
feet broad, carried over mountains, vallies and rivers, crossing the
latter as well as every ravine and depression by well built stone
bridges. This very useful and well executed work was done by government,
at the suggestion of our statesman, Henry Clay. We passed a neat farm
house, before which stood a bronze statue of Clay, placed there by a
widow lady, owner of the place, in gratitude for the benefit this road
had produced to her property. We of course were in duty bound to admire
the statue, while rolling so rapidly and smoothly over this excellent
road. At Washington, Pa., we dined; a pretty town, having three
churches, hotels, and shops, with a college, a large building, in the
centre of pleasant grounds. A large court-house, of brick, was in
progress. The dinner was good, but plain. The hills which we passed in
the afternoon, were covered with rich pasture land, where sheep and
cattle were making a fine feast. These grassy hills are famous for the
‘glade butter,’ which is celebrated around the country, and which we
found very sweet and fresh. While descending the side of one of these
hills, we were told Brownsville, Pa., was in sight, and looking down, we
beheld a town in the valley, with the pretty Monongohela glistening in
the bright sun, as it wound its way around the hills. Rattling over a
fine, strong, covered bridge, we stopped to change horses before the
principal hotel. This is a large manufacturing town, containing five
thousand inhabitants. Steamboats are here built, and completely fitted
up; and when the river is high, they run to Pittsburg, sixty miles
distant. The hills are high around, abounding in bituminous coal, and
laid with strata of limestone and sandstone. The coal here is very rich.
Dark, heavy masses, after we had left this place, began to appear in the
horizon, and we were rejoiced to hear they were the celebrated Alleghany
mountains. We took tea at Uniontown, Pa., at the foot of the chesnut
ridge, and soon after began to ascend the mountain. Our mountain ride
was delightful, and when near the summit we all descended from the stage
coach, to enjoy the views. What a glorious thing to stand upon the top
of a mountain! How exultingly you gaze upon the world below! You feel so
proud of the great feat you have performed; you breathe freer; the
heavens seem nearer and brighter, and the earth--but do not let me speak
against the earth, for never had it looked more enchanting than when
looking upon it from the summit of the Alleghanies. The fair fields of
Pennsylvania, were spread out below, varied with herbage of every shade;
with groves and villages, and streams, whose waters were tinted with
rose from the setting sun; around in every direction was a green ocean
of hill tops, robed in a vesture of purple haze. You will smile at my
heroics upon the summit of so small a mountain as one of the
Alleghanies, scarcely three thousand feet above the earth, and think it
better applied to the Chimborazo, Popocatapetl, or even Rocky Mountains;
but fortunately, I have never been upon higher ground, and enjoy the
view from the Appalachian range, as much as if I stood upon the Nevados
of our southern continent, twenty-five thousand feet above the sea.
Depend upon it, those who have seen every thing, who have been rowed
down the Nile; climbed the rocks of Petra; worshipped at Jerusalem;
toiled up the Himalayas; and frozen in Siberia, are no happier than we,
who have been creeping about the circle of our home. To everything you
call upon them to admire they answer, ‘J’ai vu;’ they have seen
everything. If you praise a song, they turn away with scorn and speak of
the opera at Naples; if you ask them to visit our springs or our cities,
they talk of the spa’s of Europe, of Paris, of London, and Petersburgh.
They have nothing to do but fold their hands, grumble at the present,
and live upon the past. I have not seen, and therefore may be allowed to
expatiate upon the beauties of the Alleghanies. All that night we drove
up the hills and down the hills, shut up in the stage coach. We were
glad of our cloaks, for it was very cold, and at every stopping place we
found fires, although at the foot of the mountains the thermometer
stood at eighty. We talked merrily at first and kept up each others
spirits, but towards midnight we grew cold and weary, and one after
another sank into silence. There was much nodding and dozing, but little
sleeping; for as soon as one fell into a doze another was sure to ask
you if you could sleep, or how you came on, a question sure to put to
flight your endeavors. At last, hopeless of sleep, we gave it up by
mutual consent, and tried to amuse each other by stories. One of our
party was a western merchant who had frequently travelled over these
mountains, and met with numerous adventures. He told us of an adventure
which befel him twenty years since, when the mountains were little
travelled, and only accessible on horseback. He was carrying a large sum
of money in his saddle-bags, which he feared had been discovered by two
ill looking men whom he had seen in the tavern where he had stopped just
at dusk. He for some time felt a little fear, but the night had nearly
worn away and he had not seen any one; when, soon after midnight, as he
was pacing slowly along, he fancied he caught a glimpse of a man
standing by the road side just before him. He gazed intently through the
darkness and saw distinctly two men who drew farther out of the
moonlight into the shade of the trees as he approached. He knew not what
to do; he was not armed, no house was near, and if he left the road he
must be lost in the pathless woods. Go on he must, and he determined to
put spurs to his horse and dart past them. He gazed forward to see if
his path were clear; a deep silence reigned around, when ‘Dismount and
give up your money!’ resounded like thunder in his ears, echoing away
among the silent aisles of the mountain forest. Two men were before him;
his whip was wrenched from his hands; he was dragged to the ground; the
robbers mounted his steed and rode away. ‘Well, there I was in a pretty
fix, anyhow,’ he said, ‘sitting upon a mound of snow all alone, in a
wild wood at midnight, my two hundred dollars and my horse all gone. I
might have said with Shakspeare’s queen, ‘Here I in sorrow sit,’ etc.,
but I was not in a poetical mood anyhow. Besides, I could blame no one
but myself, for I ought to have kept my eye skinned, and not have been
so blind as not to see the danger of travelling in wild parts with so
much gold. Still, if the parts were wild, we had never heard of any
robbery committed here, and did not expect it.’ ‘Did you ever discover
the robbers?’ we asked. ‘Oh, yes! I went back to the village, and every
one turned out to help me. There was snow on the ground and we were thus
able to track them. I was forced to go all the way to Buffalo, however,
ere one was caught by the police. He had lived like a prince all along
the road and spent his share of the money.’ ‘What became of the other
man?’ ‘Why, ma’am, as I was one day walking through Pratt street, in
Baltimore, some months after, whom should I meet but my man, dressed in
the newest style, parading along as proud as a prairie cock, with a
grand lady upon each arm. I knew him, as I had remarked him at the
tavern, and by the bright moonlight. He also remembered me, and when he
saw my eye so eagerly fixed upon him, without saying good bye to the
ladies, or even waiting upon them home, he scattered at once down the
street, and I after him. If you had seen the ladies stare! Away he went,
up street, down street, along the wharves, in the vessels, out again. At
last, thinking he had dodged me, he sprang into an empty hogshead. But I
wasn’t to be did that way anyhow; so I flung a board over the top, and
standing on it, clapped my arms and crowed in such a tone of triumph,
that all the cocks in the neighboring yards crowed in concert. In short
my man was treed and imprisoned, but my money was gone.’

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 25th._--At day-break I lifted the curtain, and by the uncertain
light of dawn, beheld at my side a wide river, whose opposite shores
were green and hilly. ‘Are we over the mountains already? What river can
this be?’ I asked. With a smile, one of the party informed me we were on
the summit of a high mountain, and the deep valley filled with mist,
with the opposite summits for a shore, made my river. A bright sun soon
dispersed the mist, and we were never tired of the variety of views we
beheld upon every hand. That the mountains are not very high adds to the
beauty of the scene; their heads are not lost in the clouds, and we
frequently see the whole mass at once. While descending one Alleghany we
beheld another before us, like a high green wall reaching to the
heavens, while a line across the summit showed the road we were to
travel; so high and precipitous it seemed, that we wondered how we ever
should reach the road. Descending again this ridge, we gazed out over a
great extent of country, or down into deep valleys, brightened by
winding streams, while trees, and flowers, and vines of every tint and
form, adorned the path. The laurels were out of bloom, but their deep
green glossy leaves shone out continually from the foliage. The chesnut
was also frequent; these two giving names to the two ridges we had
passed, Laurel and Chesnut ridges. We also remarked the pretty striped
maple, whose green bark is striped with black. This is sometimes called
moose wood, as the moose-deer always seeks with avidity its tender
leaves and bark. The box elder also occurs upon these slopes, with the
holly, and varieties of the magnolia, the turpelo, gum tree, besides
noble forests of many other trees. The road although leading over
mountain ridges and passes, is not a lonely one, as stages loaded with
passengers, were continual passing, and huge Pennsylvanian waggons with
the large Normandy horses, high collar, and jingling a bell to give
notice of their approach. The women of the country we often met upon
horseback, sitting upon their gaily embroidered saddles. The fine broad
smooth National road over which we were passing enabled the drivers to
keep their horses upon a very quick trot. I am fond of rapid driving,
but sometimes it made me rather nervous to dash at the rate of eight
miles an hour, within two feet of a precipice down which we looked upon
the tops of trees a thousand feet below. There is, however, very little
danger, as where the descent is steep, the driver can, in a moment, by
putting his foot upon a spring at his side, cramp the wheel, and check
our speed. After ascending a high mountain, we found a tavern, whose
sign bore the hospitable words ‘Welcome from the west.’ We were much
pleased with this kind reception, until upon looking back, perceived
upon the other side of the sign ‘welcome from the east.’ I wish the
good lady who erected a statue to Clay, would place a monument upon the
Alleghanies, to commemorate honest Daniel Boon, who claims to be the
first who discovered the fair western plains. Sir Alexander Spotswood, a
governor of Virginia, penetrated part of the way through the mountains.
There was no National road then, and the hills were almost impassable.
To stimulate discovery, he instituted the order of the golden
horse-shoe, for those who could pass the Blue Ridge. He was anxious to
counteract the influence of the French upon the Mississippi. There
should also be a statue to good old Father Marquette, upon the shore of
Lake Michigan, as, before him, no white man had penetrated farther in
the wilderness. He persevered and discovered the Mississippi. We passed
several towns, as Smythfield, Petersburg, Frostburg, Cumberland, &c.
This last town is in Maryland, upon a branch of the Potomac, one hundred
and forty miles from Baltimore. The scenery around it is beautiful. It
lies in a valley, through which glistens the Potomac river, surrounded
by mountains. We reached it this morning, after descending a slope which
seemed to rise one mass of rocks above us. The town has several large
hotels, a college, court-house, and many shops. We stopped here to
change horses. Here commences the transition formations, the Appalachian
range, dividing the transition from the secondary formations of the
western valley. So clear and distinct is this division, that the
celebrated geologist, Dr. Aikin, fixed upon the ground between
Cumberland and Hancock, forty miles distant, as the spot where the
Appalachian chain emerged from beneath, upheaved by igneous action. The
mountain which we descended to Cumberland, is called the Alleghany by
pre-eminence, it being the highest elevation, and is the ridge which
divides the waters which flow into the Ohio, from those which reach the
Atlantic. The rocks which we had observed upon our road, were the usual
limestone, marl, and conglomerates of the west, mixed with much
bituminous coal, while now we remarked with them, grey wacke and
transition slates. The Baltimore and Ohio railroad will pass through
Cumberland, and the Chesapeake and Ohio canal. Here also the National
commences, and we there left it, but found a very good one which
continued, with some failures, during the day. We dined at Pine Grove, a
small village. Near the hotel is a sulphur spring, which we were obliged
to taste, to gratify the landlord, and which was as nauseous as one
could desire. This afternoon we passed some very pretty mountain
scenery; none so high as those we had left behind, for we were only upon
the steps which lead down from the ridge to the plains below. From
Sidling Hill we looked down into a large valley surrounded by a circle
of hills, through which a river winding its way formed several islands.
In the centre, was a high rounded knoll covered with fields of ripened
grain, its bright yellow contrasting well with the dark woods which
surround it. They have a curious way here of laying the grain when cut,
in squares or circles, which looks very pretty at a distance. We took
tea at Hancock, a town upon the banks of the Potomac. The Chesapeake and
Ohio canal is finished as far as this place. We were but little over
half way to Baltimore here, having come, we were told, one hundred and
sixty miles from Wheeling. Another night was passed in the stage, only
varied by occasional stoppages to change horses. About day-break we
stopped at Hagarstown, a very large, thriving place, containing
churches, academies, and many handsome private dwellings. The hotel
which we entered while the horses were changed, was large, and seemed
very commodious. After leaving it, we found the valley in which it
stands, was very highly cultivated. It is underlaid with a dark blue
limestone; the soil is very rich, and the wheat which it produces, is
sent to Baltimore, and highly esteemed. We saw some of this limestone
which occasionally cropped out; veins of calcareous spar crossed the
blue, in some instances. Quartz pebbles, and large nodules were spread
over the country for miles, between this town and Frederic, as if a
storm of enormous hail had spent its fury over the land. Rounded pieces,
as large as a man’s fist, and white as milk, lay against the fences, or
were piled up by the husbandman. The county to Frederic is very pretty,
undulating, cultivated, and well settled, while dark masses in the
distant horizon told us our pretty mountains were far behind us.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 26th._--At eleven o’clock, we reached Frederick city, where we
breakfasted. This is a very pretty city, having an air of antiquity; as
we now had arrived in an old settled country, and the newly painted
towns were giving place to what are called old, although not what an
European would deem aged. I was almost too sleepy to see much of it, but
as we rattled over paved streets, and looked upon rows of houses, we
seemed quite at home again.

We bade adieu to the stage-coach, and after a good breakfast, entered
the rail-road car, and were whirled along with a rapidity which was
frightful, after our stage-coach pace. The cars were handsomely
finished, having an apartment appropriated to the ladies, where
reclining upon the blue satin sofas we relieved our cramped limbs. The
country, between Frederick and Baltimore, is very pretty. I think it is
about sixty miles from the one place to the other. We passed many good
houses, surrounded with fine farms, having the shining Monocasy river,
winding among them. We crossed this and the Petapsco, over several
bridges. The latter river flows between high banks of granite. Fifteen
miles, from Baltimore, are the celebrated Ellicots mills, built of the
granite of the cliffs, upon which they stand, where is ground the
excellent Baltimore flour, raised from the fertile country around
Frederick and Hagarstown. Some of the deep cuts of the rail-road seem to
be through a mass of debris, of all colours, red, white, and blue, mixed
with talcose slate, and blue limestone, until near Baltimore, when we
entered that granitic belt, which stretched through the Atlantic, border
to Georgia, and which is supposed once to have been the original
Atlantic coast, before the band of alluvion was formed. After passing
many fanciful country seats, and the fine viaduct which leads to
Washington, we beheld Baltimore, an enormous mass of brick and stone
lying upon the shore of Petapsco bay. Our western friends were delighted
and surprised at the sight of so large a city while driving through the
street. We arrived at Barnham’s large and elegant hotel just as they
were eating dinner. We had infringed upon our Sabbath thus far, without
intending it, as we were told we should arrive in Baltimore in time for
morning services. In the afternoon and evening, however, there was
opportunity of joining in public worship, which my husband and some of
the party embraced, leaving us, the weaker part, at home to rest.

       *       *       *       *       *

_July 27th._--As we did not leave Baltimore until half-past nine, we
were enabled to see much of it. Its monuments to Washington, and to the
heroes of the last war, are handsome, and the fountain with its cool
canopy of shadowy elms, pretty; its churches and public buildings very
good, but as you are so well acquainted with it, I will not trouble you
with any details. We entered the rail-road car at half-past nine, and
reached New York at eleven that night, a distance of two hundred miles,
for which we paid eight dollars each. Several long bridges carried us
over Bush creek, Gunpowder river, and the noble Susquehanna. Our western
friends, who had been boasting of their great rivers, seemed surprised
at the little use we made of them in travelling. ‘It seems,’ said our
fair Missouri lady, ‘rivers here are of no consequence--indeed, are in
the way, as you make bridges and drive over them.’

At one o’clock we reached Wilmington, the capitol of Delaware. This
State was a Swedish settlement, named by Gustavus Adolphus, Nova Suecia,
since which time, Dutch, English and Americans, have successively owned
it.

We dined at Wilmington, and then hastening on, passed through Chester,
and a rich level country, to the beautiful city of Philadelphia. Leaving
our railroad at the depot, we drove through the whole length of the
city, where, at five o’clock, we entered the cars again, turned our
faces towards New York, which we reached, as I said, at eleven o’clock,
the road being along the Delaware, and through some rich farms, with
elegant mansions and huge Pennsylvania barns; through Bristol and
Trenton, in New Jersey, when darkness spread over the land and we saw no
more. And now farewell to the

    “Land of the west! green forest land.”


THE END.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Sunday schools have been maintained; and in pursuance of my
recommendation, the cell of each prisoner is always supplied with a
volume of the School District Library. The measure was followed by a
gratifying improvement in the conduct of the prisoners. Many wearisome
hours of solitary time are beguiled,; resolutions of repentance
and reformation are formed, and the minds of the unhappy convicts,
accustomed to the contemplation of virtue, and expanded by knowledge,
are gradually prepared to resist the temptations which await them on
their return to society.--GOV. SEWARD’S MESSAGE, JAN. 1841.

[2] Chapin’s Gazateer.

[3] Tanner.

[4] Antiquities of America.

[5] Gazetteer.

[6] I am glad to see Troy, who is ever forward in the cause of religion
and morality, has abandoned this practice in some instances. There has
been more success in the canal this year. Mr. Eaton, in his report,
mentions 150 conversions. A small number among 25,000, but enough to
cheer on the pious missionary.

[7] America to Great Britain.--ALLSTON.

[8] Amount of flour and wheat which entered the canal from Lake Erie at
Buffalo:--

  From Ohio,   505,262 barrels of flour;  72,525 bushels of wheat.
  Michigan,    112,215     “        “     97,249     “        “
  Indiana,      13,726     “        “     48,279     “        “
  Illinois,      2,259     “        “     10,634     “        “
  Wisconsin,     1,166     “        “


[9] Darby.

[10] Smith’s Western Tourist.

[11] Among the articles arrived at Cleveland from the Ohio Canal this
year were--504,900 barrels of flour; 167,045 bushels of coal; 932 hhds.
tobacco; 2,252,491 lbs., of iron and nails; besides numerous other
articles of merchandise.

[12] Darby.

[13] Salmonia.

[14] Schoolcraft.

[15] Bibliotheque Universelle, translated by J. Griscom, in the
American Journal of Science.

[16] Chalmers.

[17] Lev. xxvi, 4, 12.

[18] Deut. xxvi, 19.

[19] Deut. xxviii, 16.

[20] Becks Gaz., of Ill.

[21] Hall.

[22] Am. Jour. of Scien. vol. 25.

[23] Dr. Hildreth.

[24] Peck.

[25] Judge Hall.

[26] Dr. Owen.

[27] Hildreth.

[28] Hildreth.