A Winter in the Far West

Preface

. In preparing these letters for publication, the author has thought proper to illustrate some of the facts contained in them by observations de rived from other sources, or made subsequent to their date. These additions the writer has preferred to place in an Appendix, rather than em body them with the original matter, as he feared that whatever attraction his sketches of scenery and manners might possess would evaporate upon throwing them into a different form, and their chief merit as first and faithful impressions would be lost. The eloquent writings of Mr. Flint, the graphic sketches of Judge Hall, and the valuable scientific researches of Mr. Schoolcraft, Professor Keating, and the lamented Say, have already made the regions described in these pages well known to the public ; but there is an ever saliant

PREFACE.

. freshness in the theme of " The Far West," which prevents its becoming trite or tiresome; and as the author believes himself to be the first tourist who has taken a winter view of scenes upon the Indian frontier, he trusts that this circumstance will impart some degree of novelty to his descrip tions in that quarter, while the romantic beauty of the region described nearer home will bear its own recommendation with it. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Letter VI

Western Society. — Wheeling. — An old Negro. — A Travel ling Companion. — Shores of the Ohio. — Scenery of the Ohio* — Rapp's Settlement. — Approach to Pittsburg. — The Monon gahela. — Our Landing. . . . . .50

Letter VII

An Excursion. — Field of Action. — An Ambuscade. — The Battle. — Fall of Braddock. — Character of Braddock. — Speech of an Indian Chief. — The Battle-field. — Relic-hunters. — Steam-engines. . . . . . .60

Letter VIII

Rapid Rise of Pittsburg. — Trade of Pittsburg. — Early Set tlers. — Unrivalled View. — Remains of the Fort. — Water works. — Grant's Grave. — A Morning Ride. — A Coal-pit. — Remains of a Mill-dam. . . . .74

Letter IX

Stage-coach Companions. — Leave Pittsburg. — The Journey. — Breakfast. — Rapp's Community. — Religious Freedom. — Terrible Example. — Magnificent Vegetation. — Cleaveland. — Pleasant Ride. — Treacherous Shore. . . .87

Letter X

Scene of Confusion. — New-York Steam-boat. — Canine Pas sengers. — Emigrant Passengers. — Family Relics. — Emigrants. — Steamers. — Detroit River. — City of Detroit. — Public Build ings. — Military Remains. — General Hull. — A Conversation. An Adventure. — French in Canada. — Characters of the French. — Horses. — New Arsenal. — Deer-hunting. . .100 CONTENTS. IX

LETTER XL

The Huron River. — Village of Monroe. — New Bank. — Po sition of Monroe. — Public Improvements. — A Launch. — Te cumseh. — A Massacre. — Anecdote. — The Diana. — The River Raisin. — Canals and Railroads. — Public Projects.*— Garden of the Union. . ... . . Page 123

Letter XII

A Log Cabin. — Stage-coach Travelling. — Banks of the Rai sin. — Forests. — A Forest Cabin. — Start on our Journey. — Swapping. — Pet Fawns. — A Canine Mourner. — Pet Fawn. — Pretty Village. — Cemeteries. — The Grand River. — Intelligent Community. . . . . . .137

Letter XIII

Healthfulness of Michigan. — A Settler's choice of Land. — Aspect of the Country. — Indians. — A Metamorphosis. — Gro tesque Company. — Love of Spirituous Liquors. — Africans and Indians. — Indian Civilization. — Narrative. . . 151

Letter XIV

Proposed Excursion. — The Short Hills. — An Accident. — Loss of my Horse. — Floral Beauties. — My Horse again. — So litary Shantee. — Chase of a Buck. — Prairie on Fire.— Terror of my Horse. — Grim-looking Savage. — Snow-storm. — Hospi table Reception. — Wild Country. — Indian Graves. — Primi tive Guide-posts. — Smiling Landscape. — Cabin Dormitory. 165

Letter XV

New Inn of Marshall. — A Rail-road Meeting. — Projected Route. — Internal Communication. — A Pioneer's Speech. — Po pulation of Michigan. — Price of Land. — Causes of Sickness. — Lonely Scenes. — Jumpers. — Lodge in the Wilderness. — X CONTENTS. Growth of Society.— Lyon Lake.— Hunting-ground. — Camp of Warpkesick. — Motley Group. — Warpkesick. — Rifle-shooting. — An Indian Dandy. — Our Departure. — Death of a Buck. ...... Page 184

Letter XVI

Invitation. — New Acquaintances. — Yankee Talk. — Wed ding Company. — The Kekalamazoo. — Prairie Ronde. — Mi chigan Scenery. — Rope Ferry. — English Settlers. — Beautiful Hills. — Agriculture. — Lakes. — Want of Society. — Internal Communication. ..... 207

Letter XVII

Rail-road Travelling. — Our Journey. — Land of the Hoo shiers. — Forest Scene. — A French Driver. — His Disaster. — Poor Victor. — Lake Michigan. — The Lake Shore. — Rustic Hostelrie. — Travelling Companions. — Journey resumed. — Chicago. — A Ball. — Chicago Cotillons. — The Ladies. — A Puzzle. — Wishes. . . . . .221

Letter XVIII

Intense Cold. — Situation of Chicago. — Rapid Rise of Chi cago. — Projected Canal. — A Pacing-match. — A Hunt. — Mis sion of Charity. — A fine Chase. — Escape of the Wolf. — New Game. — Death of a Wolf. — Value of Horses. . .239

Letter XIX

Fellow-passengers. — Our Journey. — Our new Equipage. — Walker's Grove. — A Disaster. — Illimitable Scene. — Prairie Loo. — Accident. — Log-cabin Library. — Intellectual Culture. Grouse. — Ottawa. — Fatal Affair. — Indian-haters. . CONTENTS. XI

Letter XX

Frozen Cascade. — Banks of Vermilion River. — Icy Descent. — Indian Trails. — Slippery Bluffs. — Picturesque Spot. — Starved Rock. — Our Hostess. — Boundless Plain. — Beautiful Scene. — Frozen Gully. — Critical Situation. — Danger from Frost. — A flourishing Farmer. — Wolves. — A Travelling Bride. ...... Page 270

Letter XXI

Lonely Prospect. — Painted Pottawattamies. — A Borderer. — Supper. — Indian Language. — Indian Encampment. — A Run away. — A Wolf. — Dixon's Ferry. — Buffalo Grove. — Fatal Am bush. — Secluded Dells. — Deserted Cottage. — Galena. 287

Letter XXII

Journey resumed — Old Indian Trader. — Picturesque Cos tume. — Striking Landscape. — Literary Backwoodsman. — Hos tile Tribes. — A Challenge. — Beautiful Country. — Sale of Lands. — Miners. — Desolate Region .—Upper Mississippi. — Prairie du Chien. . . . . . .302 Appendix. . A WINTER IN THE WEST.

Letter I

Easton, Pennsylvania, Oct. 17, 1833. My DEAR , My journey has not as yet furnished an incident worthy of being entered into the diary of the most unambitious tourist. Still I take the first oppor tunity of fulfilling the promise given, when start ing on the wide excursion I meditate, of writing to my friends from the different stages of the route, and describing its features with sufficient minuteness for those who take an interest in my letters to accompany their writer in his wanderings. With which of my friends — with whom breathing, my dearest , can I better commence my little narrative, than with one who will only regard its details with the eye of affection — unmindful alike of their want of intrinsic interest, and the unat- VOL. I. B OUR ROUTE. tractive form in which they may be conveyed, so they be but a faithful record of my wayfaring ?

Our route hither from New-Brunswick (or Rougemont, as some one proposes calling it, from the colour of the soil,) was as uninviting as a rainy, disagreeable day, bad roads, and a country neither fertile nor picturesque, could make it. Occasion ally, indeed, glimpses of the Raritan gave anima tion to the scene, as, sparkling restlessly between its cold brown banks, it rushes like an ill-matched bride from their dreary embrace to sully its pure waters in the marsh through which it passes to the sea. These glimpses, however, are but transient; and for the remainder of the drive but few natural objects presented themselves to induce one to dis pute that quaint Indian tradition which avers, that when the Manitou had finished making the rest of this mighty continent, he slapped from his fingers the mud and gravel which form this part of New- Jersey.

We reached a straggling village, called Jackson ville, about nightfall, at a low-roofed unpretending looking stone inn, where we had a capital supper — of which buckwheat-cakes, not quite so large as a New-York grass-plat, formed no mean ingredient — and slept in sheets of snow. To this auspicious characteristic their properties in other respects BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY. bore a resemblance, as I afterward discovered, which might readily be dispensed with. I awoke at dawn, with rheumatic pains in every part of my bones, and found, what had escaped me the night before, that every particle of the covering of my bed was as wet as if it had been transferred at once from the hands of the laundress, without undergoing the dilatory process of drying. I was glad to get at once into the saddle ; and mounting one of the led horses, it took a warm trot of a dozen miles to relax my aching muscles, and make me anticipate my breakfast with any thing like satisfaction.

The morning, though cloudy, broke beautifully. The country, as we approached the borders of Pennsylvania, increased in interest. Richly-wooded hills, with here and there a fertile slope evincing a high state of cultivation, shone out beneath the fitful sky. Farm-houses, built of grey stone, and standing sometimes in a clump of sycamores aloof from the road, had an air of quiet comfort. The streams from the uplands were more frequent, and their currents flowed with heightened animation. The roads indeed were worse than indifferent ; but that, though a sudden rain soon set in, did not prevent our enjoying the clouded but still beautiful landscape. b2 THE GREAT DAM. We crossed the bridge over the Delaware to Easton at about two o'clock, and put up at an excellent inn. Having ordered dinner, we strolled out to see the lions of the place.

The roar of a waterfall was the first thing which attracted my notice, and, following the sound, I soon found my self near the great dam over the Lehigh, where, at its junction with the Delaware, back-water is created for the sake of supplying the Lehigh Ca nal. The pond thus formed, with its abrupt banks, and frowning limestone cliffs wooded to the top, might almost pass for a small natural lake. It is filled with small craft, — the lubberly looking ark, and sharp clean-built Durham boat, lying moored by the shore, with numerous light skiffs drawn up near them. I easily procured one of the latter, and shooting under the chain-bridge which crosses the Lehigh, the wind and current carried me in a moment past stone wharfs heaped with anthracite coal to the brink of the dam. The sudden slope of the water here had an awkward look about it, which reminded me vividly of a peep I once took from a row-boat into " the Pot," at Hell-gate, when its screwing eddies carried the eye with a strange fascination deep into the boiling caldron.

Bending heartily to my oars, I was glad HARDY BOATMEN. to leave the glassy brim that sloped so smoothly to destruction. The operations of a keel-boat working up against the rapid current of the Delaware next caught my attention. She had four men to manage her — the roughest, hardiest-looking set of fellows I ever saw, broad-shouldered and brawny, with complexions like copper, and having no covering to their heads but coarse curly hair, matted so thick that it looked as if the stroke of a sabre might almost be turned by it. The strength and agility of these fellows is very striking, as they stride along the gunwale with their long poles, and twist them selves into all sorts of positions while urging their unwilling craft against the foaming current. After they had gained and passed the lock, and floated into the basin where my boat was lying, I could not help rowing near theirs to examine their iron frames more narrowly.

Such a collection of bold, reckless, impudent faces I had never before seen ; and my surmises in physiognomy were fully con firmed by a volley of billingsgate which one of them let fly at me. It being perfectly in charac ter, I was of course much amused at it, and by gently lying on my oars and looking at him, in censed my amiable acquaintance to a degree that PICTURESQUE VILLAGE. was irresistibly ludicrous. I waited till he was exhausted ; and when he wound up by " d— ing my spectacles," I reflected with Dr. Franklin, that it was not the first time they had saved my eyes ; and mentally consigning the fellow to the tender mercies of Hall and Trollope, pulled for the berth of my little shallop, and soon after regained my quarters. The situation of this village is eminently happy —almost picturesque, and the country around it delightful.

The chief buildings are the County Court-house, situated in a fine square in the centre of the place, and the Lafayette College, which, from a com manding position over the Bushkill, faces one of the principal streets. The latter is a Manual la bour institution (a term I need hardly explain to you), recently incorporated, and likely to flourish under the energetic superintendence of the Rev. Mr. Junkin, its able principal. Easton is cele brated for the rich mineralogical specimens found in its vicinity. The salubrity of the place, as I am informed by an eminent physician, is remark able ; and one can readily believe in its exemption from most of the fevers of the country, from the fact of there being no woodcock-ground within five miles of the Court-house. The site was chosen EASTON. 7 and the town-plat laid out by Penn.

The de scendants of the great colonizer are still said to own property in Easton ; while the peaceful mem bers of his brotherhood, in our day, bless his memory when turning up the jasper arrow-head within the precincts of the village, and thank Heaven for the teacher whose gentle counsels with drew for ever from this lovely valley the red archers that shot them. Eagerly as I am now treading on the steps of that fated race to their fleeting home in the far west, with what emotions of pleasure shall I not count every returning mile that will bring me near you ! OUR INN.

Letter II

Rodrocksville, Pa., Oct. 19. The last red hues of sunset were just dying over the western extremity of the road we had long been following, when a herd of cattle, under the guidance of a woolly-headed urchin, collecting in dolently around an extensive farm-yard, reminded us alike that it was time to seek shelter, and that one was at hand. A few paces farther brought us to the door of a large stone building, displaying, with the usual insignia of an inn, an unwonted neatness in all its out-door arrangements : un harnessing our four-footed fellow-travellers, we proceeded, in spite of the threatening outcry of a huge ban-dog chained at its entrance, to bestow them comfortably in a stable near at hand. A Canadian pony, with a couple of goats, the com panionable occupants, seemed hardly to notice the intrusion ; and leaving an active mulatto ostler to reconcile any difficulties which might arise be tween our pampered steeds and a sorry-looking jade which just then entered to claim a share of FARMING IN PHILADELPHIA. the comforts at hand, we soon ensconced ourselves before a crackling wood-fire in the comfortable apartment where I am now writing.

Every mile of our route to-day has given some new occasion to admire the scale upon which farming is conducted in Pennsylvania. The fences, indeed, are not remarkable for the order in which they are kept ; but while the enclosures them selves are tilled with a nicety which preserves the utmost verge of a field from shooting up into weeds or brushwood, the barns into which their harvests are gathered are so spaciously and solidly built, that they want only architectural design to rival in appearance the most ambitious private mansions. Stone is almost the only material used here in building ; and the massive profusion in which not only the barns, but the smallest out houses upon the premises of these sturdy hus bandmen, are piled upon their fertile acres, is such as would astonish and delight the agriculturist accustomed only to the few and frail struc tures with which the farmers of most other sections of our country content themselves.

The establishment of our host is admirably supplied with these lordly appurtenances in which a true tiller of the soil may so justly show his pride. The huge cathedral-looking edifice which towers b PICTURESQUE COUNTRY. 10 above his farm-yard would make as proud a temple as could be well reared to Ceres, even by Triptolemus himself. The most picturesque country we have yet seen is that immediately around Easton. Indeed, the first view that opened upon us when gaining the brow of a wooded hill, about half a mile from the town, was so fine as to make us forget the regret with which we had a few moments before bid adieu to our prince of landlords and his blooming daughters. The Lehigh, for about half a mile in extent, lay in the form of a crescent beneath us — a wooded ravine striking down to either horn, and un dulating fields, some ruddy with buckwheat stub ble, and some green from the newlysprouting wheat, filled up the curves.

A grey-stone barn stood here and there on an eminence against the bright morning sky ; while, sheltered below on the alluvial flats formed by the river, a white-walled cottage might be seen reposing by its cheerful current. The Lehigh Canal, winding through the valley, side by side with the river, like a younger sister bent on the same errand, added not a little, when viewed at such a distance, to the beauties of the scene. We took our breakfast at Bethlehem, and avail- MORAVIAN INSTITUTIONS. ing myself of an hour's delay while the horses were feeding, I left my friend puzzling himself over a German newspaper, and strolled off to look at the village. It is a place of considerable in terest, not less on account of its ancient and peculiar appearance than the Moravian institutions which have rendered it so celebrated.

I was for tunate enough to meet with Mr. Seidel, the prin cipal of the female seminary, who, upon my ask ing him some trivial question about that excellent establishment, offered in the most polite man ner, though I was wholly unknown to him, to show me through the building. It is a plain stone structure, of some eighty feet in length, subdivided internally into lecture-rooms and dor mitories, like some of our colleges ; one range of small apartments being used entirely as washing rooms by the pupils, and having all the necessary furniture for that purpose neatly arranged about each. These, like every other part of the esta blishment, have their peculiar superintendent ; and standing thus distinctly by themselves, form an essential feature in the economy of the insti tution, and, with the extensive play-grounds in the rear of the building, evince the attention which is paid to the health and personal habits, as well as the intellectual improvement, of its inmates.

I was BURIAL-GROUND. shown into the school-rooms of the several classes, and had ample opportunity, as the ruddy bright eyed occupants rose to receive my conductor, to observe the happy effect of the life they led upon their personal appearance. A fresher, fairer as semblage of youthful beauty has rarely greeted my eyes. Several of the apartments were furnished with pianos, and my curious entrance into these smiling domains startled more than one young musician from her morning's practising. I was, as you may suppose, a little, a very little, confused at being thus exposed to the full broad side gaze of a hundred " boarding-school misses." This, though, however it might forbid my ex amining their features in detail, did not prevent me from observing that their general expression was happy and natural — two sources of attraction not so very common in the sex but that they will still strike one even when displayed, as was the case in this instance, in mere children.

I subsequently visited the burial-ground of the place, which I contemplated with no slight interest. The disposal of the dead is as true a test of civilization in a community as the social relations of the living. The taste which embellishes life passes with the arts attendant upon it from one nation to another, like a merchantable commo- BURIAL-GROUND. dity ; but the sentiment that would veil the drea riness of the grave, and throw a charm even around the sepulchre; that would hide the forbidding features of that formal mound, and shelter the ashes beneath it from contumely ; this is a characteristic springing from some peculiar tone of national feeling, and radically distinctive of the com munity that possesses it. The philosopher, it is true, may sneer at our care of this bodily machine when the principle that gave it motion has ceased to actuate it ; but how stolid is he who can look upon the ruin of a noble edifice, even though made irretrievably desolate, with apathy ; or who would not fence up from intrusive dilapidation halls hallowed, whether by the recollection of our own per sonal enjoyments or the memory of the great and good of other times.

It is one and the same feel ing which arrests our steps beneath a mouldering fortress, and which induces a pilgrimage to the tomb of a departed poet ; which kindles our in dignation against the plunderer of the Parthenon — that " titled pilferer of what Time and Turks had spared ; and which makes it ready to consume the wretches who tore the bones of Milton from his sepulchre. The Bethlehem burial-ground stands aloof from the bustling part of the village, near a noble THE DEAD-HOUSE. church, which still faces on one of the principal streets. The approach from the church, which has grounds of its own, in the form of an orna mented terrace around it, is through a narrow ereen lane. At the entrance of this, shaded by a clump of willows, stands a small stone building, called, I believe, from the purposes to which it is applied, " The Dead House."

Here the bodies of the dead are deposited for many hours previous to interment. The head is left uncovered ; and life, if by any possibility it be yet remaining, has a chance of renewing its energies before the tomb closes for ever over its victim. I looked through the grated windows, but saw nothing except an empty bier in the centre, and several shells adapted to coffins of different sizes leaning against the wall. With the usual perversity of human nature, I half regretted that the solemn chamber was at the moment un tenanted, and passed on to the place of which it is the threshold. There my eye was met by the same neat appearances and severe taste which seem to prevail throughout the economy of the Moravians. The graves, arranged in rows, with an avenue through the centre dividing the males from the females, are in the form of an oblong square, flattened on the top, with a small slab reposing in the centre.

MORAVIAN GRAVES. 15 On this are cut simply the name of the deceased, and the dates of his birth and death ; a meagre memorial, but enough : and I could r.ot help — after deciphering a number of these moss-covered stones, upon which the dews of more than a century had wept — turning with distaste from a few flaring marble slabs at the farther end of the yard, upon which the virtues of those beneath were em blazoned in the most approved modern forms. I left the spot, thinking it a pity that a greater number of trees did not, by shading the grounds, complete their beauty ; and felt willing that the young locusts which skirt them round should have time to fling their branches farther towards the centre, before I should have occasion to claim the hospitality of the place. Need I say how truly, until then, I am Yours. HARRISBURGH.

Letter III

Harrisburgh, Pa., Oct. 22. I write to you from the banks of the Susque hannah. A dull steady rain prevails out of doors ; and after wading through the mud about the pur lieus of this place for an hour, I am glad to be housed at last for the rest of the day. I see the capital of Pennsylvania under every disadvantage, but still am pleased with it. Although a city in miniature (and this contains only four or five thousand inhabitants) is generally odious to one who has resided in a metropolis — reminding him perhaps of Goose Gribbie in jack-boots, at the Review of Tillietudlem — there is much in the ap pearance of Harrisburgh to reconcile the most captious to its assumption of civic honours. The manner in which the place is laid out and built, the substantial improvements going forward and the degree of wealth and enterprise manifested in those already made, and, above all, its beautiful site, make it an exception to the generally unin teresting character of country towns.

HARRISBURGH. The chief part of the town lies on a piece of champaign land, about forty feet above the level of the Susquehannah ; the handsomest street in the place, though occupied chiefly by petty trades men and mechanics, verging on the waters of that lovely stream. The other streets run at right angles to, and parallel with, the river, which is nearly straight, except where it washes the town with a graceful bend near the suburbs of either end. Facing the Susquehannah, at the upper part of the town, and only a few hundred yards from the river, is a sudden elevation, rising into a level platform, about sixty feet above the surrounding plain. Upon this eminence, fronting the river through a broad street, stands the capitol and state buildings, containing the chief public offices. The centre edifice, and one standing detached on either side, are all ornamented with Grecian porti cos ; and their size, their simple design, and just architectural proportions, would make an imposing display, and impress a stranger favourably until he ascertained the paltry material of which they are built.

But I defy any one, unless he may have written sonnets to Time in the ruins of Babel, to have one respectful association with a structure of brick. Putting the perishable nature of the material entirely out of the question, al- MASONRY. |, though a sufficient objection to its use in a public building, its size alone is fatal to effect in a structure of any pretension. For it is massiveness in the details, as well as in combination, which de lights the beholder in architectural forms; and the pyramids of Egypt themselves, if reared of boyish marbles, though they might be so inge niously put together as to awaken curiosity, could never inspire awe. The disciple of Malthus per haps might busy himself in calculating how many urchins it took — supposing every one in the do minions of Cheops to have contributed his mite to complete the fabric — but where would have been all those ingenious surmises with which antiqua rians, since the days of old Herodotus — and who knows how many centuries before — have puzzled the brains of their readers ?

Where would be that reverence with which mankind in every known age have regarded these monuments of the power of their race in the early vigour of its creation ? Where would be the awe with which we now regard these artificial mountains that rear their stupendous forms in proportions that mock at modern art ; and, rivalling in their heaped-up rocky masses the masonry of Nature herself, speak of the labours of a race for whom the mastodon of our own continent would have been a fitting beast of burden ? VILLAGE OF READING. What a singular perversion of taste is that existing in the towns and villages through which I am passing, which induces the inhabitants to make their barns and cowsheds of solid stone, and their ornamental buildings of brick and stucco. I sometimes see Gothic churches of the first, and Grecian fronts of the last ; and these not unfre quently planted in the midst of a cluster of grey mansions, whose towering gables, huge stone but tresses, and deep-cut narrow windows, make the former show like some pert poplar thrusting his dandy figure among a clump of hoary oaks.

Still one cannot but admire the air of comfort — I might almost say of opulence — which prevails through out the country I am traversing. This, in the village of Reading, through which we passed yesterday, is particularly the case. It has a population of about seven thousand inhabitants ; and the numerous coaches filled with passengers which pass daily through it, the waggons loaded with produce that throng the streets of the place, and the rich display of goods and fancy articles in the shops, give Reading a most flourishing appearance. It is prettily situated on the Schuyl kill, with a range of high rocky hills in the rear ; but its position wants the picturesque beauty of Harrisburgh. Here the Susquehannah is, I A GERMAN PREACHER. 20 should think, full half a mile wide. It is studded with wooded islets, and flows between banks which, though not very bold in themselves, yet rise with sufficient dignity from the margin, and blend with the undulating country, until the arable slopes and sunny orchards are bounded by a distant range of mountains.